10517	----	GOVERNMENT AND REBELLION A sermon delivered in the North Broad Street Presbyterian Church, Sunday Morning, April 28 1861, By Rev. E. E. Adams. Published by Request. 1861. Government and Rebellion. An evil man seeketh only rebellion; therefore a cruel messenger shall be sent against him.--Prov. xvii. 11. We have in these words this plain announcement--that Rebellion is a crime, and shall be visited with terrible judgment. Solomon here speaks his own convictions; God declares his thought, and utters his sanction of law. This is also the expression of natural conscience,--vindicating in our breast the Divine procedure, when the majesty of insulted government is asserted, and penalty applied. God never overlooks rebellion against his throne--never pardons the rebel until he repent and submit. God does not command us to forgive our offending fellow-men, unless they repent. "If thy brother trespass against thee seven times in a day, and seven times in a day turn to thee, saying, I repent, thou shalt forgive him." God is in a forgiving attitude; so ought we to be. But he does not _express_ forgiveness until the rebel expresses penitence; neither are we under obligation to _pronounce_ an enemy forgiven until he signify his compunction and sorrow, and desist from his injurious conduct. If my child rebel against my law and my rightful discipline, I am not allowed by the spirit of love to pursue him with vengeance; neither am I bound by the law of God to release him from the penalty of his sin, until he shall have exhibited signs of submission, of sorrow, and of obedience. I may pity him, and cherish toward him the _spirit_ of forgiveness; but for his own sake, for the order of the household, and on account of my innate sense of justice, I must not pronounce his acquittal, nor declare the controversy ended, until he shall have satisfied my governmental authority, and the sentiment of justice which both his own conscience and mine, constitutionally, and therefore by necessity, cherish. And I do not see that Government can safely pardon a rebel against its statutes, its honor and its common brotherhood, until his rebellion cease; until he bow to law, confess his crime, and signify his sorrow. I speak not of oppressive government, of iniquitous law; but of _good_ government, of statutes healthful, humane, equal. Although in the former case rebellion cannot be justified until every constitutional measure has been resorted to for redress,--then, if redress be not given, the voice of the people in all representative governments may legally change oppressive for just laws, and oppressors for rulers who shall regard the popular will. And in despotisms, when the people have the _power_ to redress their wrongs, and to enter on a career of development in mind and morals, in the arts of civilization,--when every other course fails--"resistance to tyrants is obedience to God!" Man was not _made_ for tyranny. He was not made for any form of government that crushes out his intellect and his religious capabilities. He was made to be governed morally; to be under righteous law; law which, while it restrains passion, selfishness and crime, gives a man all the freedom that he is able and willing to _use_ safely for himself, and for the commonwealth; all that is consistent with individual development and the national good. I am not one of those who believe that the voice of the people is, without exception, the voice of God. It was not so at the Deluge, but quite the reverse. It was not so when Israel clamored for a king--not in mercy but in anger, God gave them their request. It was not so when Absalom stole the hearts of the people, and stirred up rebellion against his father. And yet, when a nation, independent of party, free from the excitements of momentary interest, without the influence of ambitious leaders, under the calm guidance of reason, history, and the spirit of the age,--rises spontaneously against oppression, against iniquity, and _demands_ just laws; rights for all; free thought, free speech, free labor, free worship; when compacts are not violated; when moderation is maintained; when the spirit of humanity is preserved,--_then_, I believe, "the voice of the people _is_ the voice of God." I have no question that, in the great principle, Cromwell and his puritan hosts were right in their revolutionary action. I could never doubt that our fathers did a noble, glorious, and Christian deed in throwing off the yoke of Britain, and proclaiming a new government for themselves and their posterity. It was right to contend and bleed for equal representation, for freedom of conscience, and for an independent nationality in which these high ends could be secured. The first government of which we have account was a Theocracy--that is, "the government of God." _He_ was the only King. He revealed the law, appointed leaders, gave rules for worship, instruction and warfare. Thus in the outset did he set up his claims among men. He established the great precedent, which men ought to have followed, which the world has ignored; but to which the thoughts and the will of the race shall ultimately return. It is true _now_ that government, as such, is ordained of God. All government, in its elemental authority, is a theocracy. All power is of God; he ordains law. He originates the idea of civil compact. While, therefore, the principles of governments among men may be defective, and the administration wrong and hurtful, the great _fact_ of government is a _Divine fact. Good_ government is _emphatically God's_ government--intended to suppress evil, to promote holiness and happiness. "The powers that be are ordained of God." "Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation." Despisers of government are enumerated by the Apostle as among the most flagitious of men. There are _statutes_ in almost every government which may not be absolutely right; some which may be oppressive. These are to be distinguished from the principles, from the general bearing of a government, and endured for the good therein, or be rid of by constitutional and safe methods. It is a duty of each subject and citizen to surrender some of his desires and preferences--some of his convictions possibly--for the _general_ sentiment--the comprehensive good; while he has the privilege of convincing by fair argument all others, and winning them to his views and measures if possible, without violence, without infringement of law. It is not to be expected that every man should be absolutely satisfied with any government. If he is called to yield only his share of personal interest and preference, for the sake of all the protection and blessing in which he participates in common with the state, his reason, his conscience, his patriotism will joyfully acquiesce; he will freely make so much sacrifice for the interests of the whole, knowing very well that every other citizen is likely to be under an equal sacrifice. Natural, individual liberty, without law, is only barbarism. Where every man is free to do whatever his worst passions prompt, there is in fact no freedom; there is tyranny; for the strong will subdue the weak, bone and muscle will govern mind and conscience. In laws and governments men have their best thoughts; human _law_ is likely to be better than human nature. Men feel the need of restraint--are convinced of the necessity of law. They therefore make laws in self-defence; if thereby they would _not_ restrain their own selfishness, they _would_ restrain the selfishness of others; but that which is made a barrier to _one_ bad subject is also a defence against all;--thus men do restrain themselves by their defences against others. Thus it is that, with healthful convictions, men may control diseased passion; with a right _ideal_ is intimately joined a safe actuality; with good law, a comparatively good condition. Even in the worst administration, and when the public mind is most demoralized, there may remain the purity of law; the sublime thought. If the mind finds itself sinking into lawlessness and disorganism, and borne away by the pressure of evil, it can look upward, and, catching new energy from the unquenched light-- "Spring into the realm of the ideal." Our destiny is ideal. We are on our way to the Unseen. The ideal draws us upward,--_real_ now, to the spirits of just men made perfect--to be real to us when we are perfect--_once_ ideal to them, as now to us. We must keep above us the model of life and of law which we have not yet attained. Let it never be dim. It is a star shining through time's night! A banner waving from the throne of God. It tells us of the goal. It points out our futurity--the altitude of our virtue, our exaltation, our bliss. Our subject is GOVERNMENT AND MAN. We proceed to consider it in a three-fold aspect, inquiring I. _What is good government?_ II. _What constitutes rebellion against such government?_ III. _What is the duty of each citizen when rebellion exists?_ I. _What is a good government_? No citizen looks for an absolutely perfect form of nationality--of law. But we have a right to ask for good government. We have been accustomed to think that it depends more on administration than on principle; and the line of the poet, "That which is best administered, is best," is a proverb, to the sentiment of which we too freely yield. No doubt a government with bad statutes and wrong laws, may be so administered as to produce a tolerable degree of national comfort and development for a season; while a Constitution perfect in its theories and principles, may be so maladministered as to corrupt and distract, impoverish and demoralize, a people. And yet, I agree with an old patriot of the past century who said, "There is no foundation to imagine that the goodness or badness of any government depends solely upon its administration. It must be allowed that the ultimate design of government is to restrain the corruptions of human nature; and, since human nature is the same at all times and in all places, the same form of government which is best for one nation is best for all nations, if they would _only agree to adopt_ it." There is a deep thought in this remark. We often say, for example, "France is not fit for a republican form of government," and it is true; but that is _not_ to say, "A republican form of government is not fit for France," if the population would agree to adopt and preserve it. Man, in his fallen state, is not fit for the holy government of God; but that holy government is, nevertheless, the _only_ one that is fit for man as a moral being; and it is man's ignorance and folly, his guilt and ruin, that he does not adopt it. It is owing to the ignorance and wickedness of the world that it is not fit for a representative government; and that all do not choose Christ to be their King. Were a score of the professional politicians of our land to frame a Constitution for us in full accordance with their own schemes and choice, we would soon find ourselves under an oligarchy of schemers, who cared for the Republic only so far as to secure from it their own fame and emolument. Were as many brokers or merchants to make and administer our laws, without regard to other industrial interests, we should have an oligarchy of trade. Were as many husbandmen, or mechanics, or lawyers, to have full control of our legislation and government, we would have one interest towering above all others, and true equalization, true brotherhood, just representation, healthful nationality would be impossible. Or, were we dependent on officers in the army or navy for our government, legislative and administrative, we would be likely to have many of our rights circumscribed. Were as many clergymen to frame a Constitution, and administer laws, we might be under a crushing priesthood. A government of mere scholars, poets or orators, would be only a sublime dream. A Constitution of philosophies alone, would glitter with abstractions beautiful, cold, grand as the snow-capt Alps, and as distant, too, from the actualities of men! A government of mere gentlemen who have nothing to do but think for slaves, to enjoy the chase and the race-ground, to extol their pedigree, and traduce labor, and lead retainers to war--would be a government for the few over the many, an aristocracy of blood and privilege, of curled moustache and taper fingers; but not a republic of patriots, of self-made men, of equal privilege and just laws. It would be a return to semi-barbarism, to the age of Louis XIV., or even of Charles I. This is now the strong tendency in the Rebel States: even along our free border, but below it, such is the system of representation, that a county containing only about 3,000 inhabitants, sends as many representatives to the legislature as another county of 30,000, and a single proprietor casts as many votes as a whole commune. So much liberty of citizens is already sacrificed to the chevalier, to the system of forced service. But were a select number of experienced men, of true statesmen, embracing different pursuits and professions, educated in different parts of the world, and drawn together by grand national events,--statesmen born in the age when liberty had its first grand revival, and was guarded by soberness of thought, and tried by every variety and extent of sacrifice--by men who had no professional, exclusive interest to provide for, but who expected to fight and die for their convictions, who sought only to lay the foundation of a nationality for future generations, and for the world; who aimed at a healthful union of all popular interests, both among poor and rich, among masters and dependents; who provided for freedom of action under law; of worship and education, of commerce, agriculture, and the arts; for the easy and equitable support of government,--for its perpetuity indeed, infusing into it elements that appeal powerfully, both to the self-interest and the patriotism of the citizens,--I say, were such men, with such ends in view, by such sacrifice, to frame such a government, containing the most delicate balance of interests, with strong checks against the encroachment of any branch, either the legislative, executive or judicial, giving all trades and professions, and all men, an equal chance for excellence, influence, and honor; you would not hesitate to pronounce that a good government, even though you might find slight exception to some of its terms, though you might not interpret as others do, all its constitutional phrases. In view of the protection which such a constitution affords, especially if it had been tested, for a period of eighty years, by all the inward strain of domestic evils, and all the outward pressure of invasion; by the influence of foreign envy, of intrigue, of hostility; by the debasing power of disloyalty, the incompetency of rulers, and the general degeneracy of human nature; I say, in view of all these untoward influences, the government which could still retain its majesty and power, still stretch its Aegis over every national and individual right--you would pronounce the best, both for ruler and people, that ever blessed a nation. And you would not hesitate to declare _that_ man a _traitor_, who should attempt _to weaken_ and destroy it! Now we pretend to say that _our_ government was thus formed by the choicest wisdom and patriotism of the world, with the largest liberty in view, under the restraint of law, giving equitable privilege to all its citizens, and so balancing its different departments that they are mutually a defence. We pretend to claim for our government the loftiest purpose, the most comprehensive views, and the best practical results. We claim for it justice, equality, and power. It does not stand out--a thing distinct from the people and the states. It is not an objective power only, but subjective; it is in every State and in every freeman. It is not in machinery, which can be set in motion and work out certain results, as if every part of it were iron or steel, and put into action by applied heat; but in _men_, in minds, in hearts, in the family circle, in the church, in every throb of patriotism, in every fibre of the husbandman and the artizan, in the pastor's prayers, and the student's living thoughts. It is in the _nation_ like latent fire, like a hidden life--evoked in time of peril, and flashing along the telegraph, breathed in song, uttered in oratory, thundered from the cannon's mouth, hung out in streaming banners whose "every hue was born in heaven," felt in firm resolve, illustrated in response to the call of country and of law. Where is our government? Not at Washington alone. That is but its symbol. It is throughout all our Loyal States. It is enthroned on the granite hills of New Hampshire, sends its voice along the Alleghanies, and on the swelling floods of the Mississippi, and spreads its wing over the children of the West, even to the shores of Oregon. It lives in every cottage, and every mansion, and has a throne in every true, free, noble, Christian heart. That it is a _good_ government, you have only in imagination to blot from the face of the earth whatever has grown up under its protection and encouragement, by the will and the blessing of the Almighty, during the fourscore years of its existence; level all the cities, sink the commerce, prostrate the schools and churches, obliterate all the science, history and thought it has fostered, quench the light of oratory, turn back the wheel of improvement, and leave us at the opening of 1776; estimate all the freedom of act, of utterance, of industry; reckon the sum of human comforts, even of luxuries, it has brought to our hand. Look at all our ships, our mechanism, our homes, our sanctuaries, our institutions of morality, of mercy and of religion; our wealth, intelligence, order, power; consider the elevation given to millions in the worst form of civilization in the land, showing that such is the vitalizing force of our national life, that even slavery here, bad as it is--and we know of nothing worse as a system--lifts men above the natural license of savage existence. Consider all this, and much more, that I may not stop to utter, and you cannot--you _do_ not--no sane mind _can_ question the supreme excellence--I had almost said the _divine_ excellence--of our government. And if there were need of other proof, we have only to remind you with what promptness the call of our noble Chief Magistrate was answered from every free State--from the city and the hamlet; from the bank, the bar, the press and the pulpit; from the workshop and the soil; from the calm and comfort of home and ease and affluence, and from the cottage of the poor, as if the pulse of the government were beating in every vein, and the will of the Cabinet had its home in every bosom! Strong men, young men, aged men, men of leisure, Christian men--all ready to march under the stars and stripes, or to pour out their treasure for others. Mothers and wives and sisters, with breaking hearts and tremulous benedictions, bidding the heroes go--offering them on their country's altar. Oh, it would not be thus but for the true manhood which our government infuses into loyal citizens. It would not be so, but for the Christianity it protects without dictation, and acknowledges without ostentation. II. We come now to the question, _What constitutes rebellion against good government_? There may be criminal rebellion even against a wicked and oppressive government. The people may take the law into their own hands, and put to death, or imprison their rulers, without _first_ having tried constitutional methods of redress. But I speak of rebellion against _good_ government--such as we have already had in review. There is a difference between insurrection and rebellion. The former is an act of a people or population against a single statute, or against a portion of the legislative enactments, without necessarily growing into warfare, or revolt against the whole constitution and the laws. This may become rebellion. There is also a difference between rebellion and revolution. The latter, in a political sense, is a change, either wholly or in part, of the constitution. This may be effected by argument and a peaceful vote--by abdication, by a change of national policy in view of some new relation, and by general consent, or by warfare. "The revolution in England in 1688, was occasioned by the abdication of James II., the establishment of the House of Orange on the throne, and the restoring of the constitution to its primitive state." Our revolution of '76, and onward, was not a rebellion; it was resistance of oppression, of burdensome taxation without equal representation, and it resulted in our distinct nationality. The revolutions of France have been of a similar character; they have sprung from oppression of the most severe and unnatural kind. This was the fact, at least, in 1797 and in 1830. In 1848, when it was my lot to be in the midst of it, the revolution arose from the selfish conduct of Louis Philippe, who enriched himself and his family out of the national treasury, and encouraged his sons in a course which was at war with national precedent, with the commercial interests and democratic individualism of the French; for with their imperial prestiges and tastes they are extreme in their personal democracy. But all these revolutions resulted in good to the people. Education, public spirit, enterprise, labor, all the arts of civilization, and even evangelical Christianity received a new impulse. Mind was opened and enlarged; the people thought for themselves, and sighed for knowledge and a better faith. Revolution is going on silently, from year to year, in England. The nobility yield by slow, almost imperceptible degrees, to the demands of the people. It is by this process that the Government avoids the shocks which startle Austria, France and Italy. Such is the variety of honest opinion among men on all subjects; so different are the degrees of information, and the opportunities of judging with regard to the best measures of government; such a diversity exists in the interests and abilities of a people,--that they may be good citizens without being satisfied altogether with the constitution, or with those who administer its laws. There will be different political parties. It is the glory of a government that the people are allowed to think and vote as they please, and to express their honest opinions. Perhaps with us, expression is too free, especially in regard to public men and measures. We may have diverse views and convictions, and yet feel and act loyally. But men who endeavor by any influence or means to lessen the loyalty of others, to alienate the love of the people from the government, and who signify their own aversion, not by condemning a single statute and seeking its lawful repeal, but by heaping abuse on the constitution and on those who are chosen to administer the laws, by avowing their hostility to the government and its policy, or their purpose to resist and war against it,--are in a posture of rebellion. Those who, being in office, commanding the arms and other property of the government, cause them to be removed so as to weaken its power and strengthen those in actual rebellion, or who are threatening the same; those who aid and comfort a population or soldiery who are in a state of actual resistance, and finally, those who do openly and avowedly renounce the authority of the government to which they have sworn allegiance, or take up arms to attack its strongholds, seize or destroy its property, or injure the soldiers and citizens who are sent to protect it,--are in a state of rebellion against its laws and against the commonwealth over which it holds the shield of its authority. Korah was a rebel and a traitor, who having, by intrigue, inspired some other leaders with the spirit of sedition, succeeded in drawing from their allegiance to Moses and Aaron, a large number of the people, who came together in a mob to demand a different administration. They were invited to refer the matter to the Divine decision, but they stoutly refused, accusing Moses of assumption, thus endeavoring to destroy his authority over the nation. That was rebellion. Again, in the reign of David, his son Absalom drew the people from their allegiance, then seized the reins of government and pursued his father with an army. That was rebellion against wholesome law, against the will of God. Now we have the painful fact before us, that rebellion has sprung up against our good government. Men in many quarters have secretly plotted, and openly avowed hostility to our Federal Union. Eight of our States have passed the Ordinance of Secession, four or five others are assuming an attitude of hostility to the General Government, or refusing to comply with the Executive, who calls on them to aid in the defence of the Capital. This state of things has been preceded by acts of treachery on the part of leading men in the States, by seizure of arms, money, and public defences,--the property of the government. A new Confederacy is formed, contrary to oaths and compacts, for the purpose of destroying our Union, and giving perpetuity to slavery. It has attacked our forts, adulterated our coin, stolen our arms, proclaimed piracy against our commerce, set a price on the head of our Chief Magistrate, threatened our Capital, and raised armies to exterminate, if possible, our nationality. And all this it has done without one act of the Government to provoke such procedure; without any oppression; without any threat; but in the face of every honorable proposal on our part, after long and patient endurance of their encroachment and plunders; even until foreign journals deride us for our forbearance, and the rebels themselves insult our delay. There are those who have compared this rebellion with our revolution of '76. There could hardly be a wider distinction, both in principle and in fact, than between these two movements. The Colonies, had been oppressed by "navigation laws," intended by the British Parliament to crush out their commerce for a whole century, from 1660 to 1775. Their weakness during that period did not allow of resistance. They were taxed oppressively, while they were not allowed a representation. This was in violation of Magna Charta; for the government of Great Britain was representative. Having been aided by the Colonists during the Seven Years' War, in the subjugation of Canada, the Parent Government--without asking taxation through the regular action of the Colonial Government--assumed the right to tax our expanding commerce, and commenced a vigorous enforcement of revenue laws. "Writs of Assistance" were issued, whereby officers of the king were allowed to break open any citizen's store or dwelling, to search for, and seize foreign merchandise; sheriffs also were compelled to assist in the work. The sanctions of private life might, by this act be invaded at any time by hirelings; and bad as it was in itself, it was liable to more monstrous abuse. Then came the "_sugar bill_," imposing enormous duties on various articles of merchandise from the West Indies, and greatly crippling Colonial commerce: then the infamous Stamp Act, by which every legal instrument, in order to validity, must have the seal of the British Government--deeds, diplomas, &c., costing from thirty-six cents to ten dollars apiece: then the duty on tea; and, finally, the quartering of soldiers on our citizens in time of peace, for the express purpose of subjugating our industry and energy to the selfish purposes of the crown. It is enough to say, that the rebels against our Government have suffered no oppression. They do not set forth any legal ground of Secession. The government has done nothing to call out their indignation, or to inflict on them a wrong. They have had more than their share of public office; they have had a larger representation, in proportion to their free citizens, than we have; they have been protected in their claims, even against the convictions of the North; we yielding, as a political demand, what we do not wholly admit as a Christian duty. We have assisted them by enactments, by money, and by arms, in the preservation of a system at war with our conscience, and with our liberties. We have paid for lands which they occupy; and after all their indignities and taunts, and attacks on our citizens, their plunders, and their warlike demonstrations, we have been patient; and are even now imposing on ourselves restraint from the execution of that chastisement, which many of their sober and awed citizens acknowledge to be just, and which, if the call were made by the Executive, would at once be hurled on the rebels by an indignant people, like the rush of destiny. Now, I grant, for I do not wish to make the matter worse than it is against them, that in the North, individuals have demanded more than the South were able, at once, to give. Some have pushed reform faster than it would bear, faster than the laws of Providence would allow; but it was honestly and conscientiously done. We have sometimes in our warmth, uttered irritating words; but all this has been returned by blows, and by savage vindictiveness. We have shown a willingness, of late, to yield some things; to abide by the sense of the whole people; but these States are, by their rulers, declared _out of the Union_, without appeal to the people; they have commenced the war, and now they are regarded by the whole world as in a state of rebellion, not of justifiable revolution. They would submit to no method of adjustment that we could honorably allow. They desired war, as they have been for years preparing for it, at the expense of the Government, and in its service and trust, drawing their life from the bosom which they now sting; and because freedom will no longer bow, as it has done for a whole generation, to their will, they rebel, proclaim a system of piracy, and threaten the subjugation of the whole American people. It is a deep, and long determined treason, running into the whole national life, and is become to ourselves a question of _personal_ liberty. III. What then, we ask, _is the duty of all citizens when good government is assailed by rebellion_? Doubtless, _one_ duty is to inquire whether they have in any way contributed criminally to the occasion or the causes of such rebellion; whether they have demanded too much of the disaffected, or encouraged a wrong spirit in them by coinciding with views leading to their present attitude; whether they have participated in any way with a policy calculated to irritate, to defy, to provoke honest minds to anger? Whether as individuals, as Christians, they have been bitter and harsh, and vengeful, or are so now; and if they find any such spirit, it becomes them to repent, and school themselves into Christian charity and moderation. But, notwithstanding any possible error in the past, the Christian citizen must consecrate himself to the defence of the government and its _policy_; for however, there is a distinction ordinarily between the two; in a crisis that involves a nation's life, the policy which would save it, is the spirit of government and order. The true Christian will pray, and speak, and write, and labor, and die for its success! Will give assurance of his sympathy and support, and refuse to do any act that can be construed into _comfort_ to the rebels. He will encourage troops called to support the government, and its policy, giving them food, clothing, advice, BIBLES AND ARMS. He will rouse their patriotism, and call down on them the benediction of heaven. This is the duty of ministers, and magistrates, of churches and individual Christians. And if the rebellion continue, it is their duty to advocate and help to form armies of sufficient numbers and power to utterly subjugate the rebels, and, if they cannot otherwise be brought to submit, put an end to their existence. That is what God did by the hand of Israel, to Korah and Absalom; and it is the legitimate issue, if needs be, of all successful resistance,--of all defensive warfare. To deny it, is to deny the right of self-defence. It is to put a man in a position where he must love his enemy better than himself and children, which even Christianity does not demand, though it does enjoin forbearance, charity, and sacrifice. To deny this is to condemn the principles of our Revolution, and to sanction the plunder and destruction of national property and being. What, therefore, is our duty, now that rebellion actually rages against our mild, equal, good Government--the best, on the whole, that the world ever saw? rebellion without cause; with no legitimate ground of offence; rebellion for the sake of a dark and demoralizing system, that has robbed half the nation of its conscience, and cursed it with an inveterate idolatry. What is our duty? What is mine as a citizen, a Christian, a minister of God--as a man? What is yours? Plainly to ask, What have I--either by demanding too much, not in abstract right, but in the light of present possibility--contributed towards this fearful condition? What by my love of money, my sanction of oppression, my apologies for wrong, my complaint against government, my support of wrong principles, my neglect to vote and pray for the right, my boast of national greatness, my worship of power and neglect of goodness, my forgetfulness of God? What by all these, and more that I do not think of, have I done palpably, possibly, toward bringing on this terrible crime against justice, humanity and law? Then it is my duty to repent of all this and deplore it. It is also my duty to strive against personal hatred and revenge, and to pray for my country's enemies just as I would for my own, and _because_ they are my own--not that they prosper in their rebellion, but that they repent and find mercy, and acknowledge the authority against which they are at war. It is our duty specially to pity and pray for the multitudes of good citizens and their families, who cannot escape from among the rebels, and who are in great jeopardy; men who love law and the Constitution, and the whole country; who are either resisting, under the greatest pressure, the evil that is upon them, or yielding through fear and force. We feel for them; we call them our brothers. But it is also my duty and yours to support our government--our administration; to pray for and sympathize with our President and his Cabinet in their most trying posture, in the midst of such perils, and with so meagre means for the moment, of establishing order, and setting the nationality in permanent security. It is our duty to report traitors to the police, that they may be lawfully cared for; to help our militia and volunteers with every comfort and defence; to hold up the arm of government so long as rebels remain. This is _our_ country, bought with blood. It is second only to the redemption which Christ purchased for us! And if we are called to contend with principalities and powers, and spiritual wickedness in high places, for the safety of our souls, surely we may contend with flesh and blood, with rebels and traitors, to save this glorious inheritance from the gulf of anarchy and the bonds of a lasting servitude. _War is terrible_, but slavery and plunder and the silent gangrene of national dishonor, bribery and perverted conscience are worse. The burst of a thunder cloud may break down a forest of lofty pines, but the slow delving of the mole may undermine a thousand habitations. The secret corrosions of the ship-worm will sink a fleet. This deep-working, inward ruin is appearing on the face of society. The stupendous fact is, that from Baltimore, onward throughout the disaffected States, the population is under the guidance of mad leaders, and exposed to mob power. Thousands of good citizens are flying to us for protection; thousands more forced into the war against the country, and other thousands sighing and praying in secret that God will give success to our arms and rescue themselves and their families from ruin. For these, as well as for our liberties and honors are we summoned to war; it were a crime to be inactive. The Bible is militant. Christianity is a warfare with sin. Life is militant,--a perpetual fight with death. If our blessings are worth praying for and praising for, they are worth _fighting_ for, and if not to be otherwise secured, _must be fought for_. I want this country to live! I want my children to grow up under its shield! I want to see constitutional liberty mount above the obstacles of ages, and rise higher and higher here, I want Italy to look toward us now with hope! I cannot bear to hear the cry of shame that will come over the Atlantic from the vineyards of France, from the glaciers of Switzerland, and from the steppes of Russia, if we permit the walls of our blood-bought inheritance to be broken down. For the sake of God, liberty, religion, all over the earth, I want our flag to be honored abroad. In the French revolution of '48, a deputation came to me to demand the American church at Havre, for the purpose of holding a political meeting, I refused. They intimated that it would be torn down. I had only to assure them that I would plant our flag on it, and if they touched it with rude hands, they would have to answer to our government. That was the last of the matter. This power we must have still; and to secure this the whole North and West must awake, and act--for the multitudes who in the Border States demand our aid; for the thousands of laboring, suffering poor who tremble beneath the glance of the proud chevalier; for the sake of our education, our lands, our homes, our Christianity. We are sure that success on our part now will demonstrate to the world the inherent power of our nation. They cannot behold the united action and offering of _nineteen millions_ in the free States--all animated with the spirit of liberty, religion and law, and resolved to crush treason and rebellion at any cost--without a deeper conviction of our real might, without a new impression of the majesty that reposes in a people's will! All Europe approves of this war; and struggling nationalities look with anxious expectancy for the issue. It is a war for government, for order. It is against the power and rage of the mob, led on by ambitious men who are mad at the loss of power. There is nothing more sublime than law; holding unseen the hearts and interests of millions, protecting their rights, and giving them full, happy development. Our flag represents law, liberty, sublime sacrifice, national life. It is therefore right even for the Christian to fight for its perpetuity. If I may defend myself and family, the nation is greater than my family and myself; and calls more powerfully for my service. And this war, entered on by necessity, and with the grand purpose of protecting order and law, and rescuing a whole population from ruin, is inspiring in its motive, and therefore elevating in its influence. We are consciously better, nobler, in proportion as we forget ourselves in the sublime idea of our nationality, and all that this nationality can do. When men fight for plunder, or victory alone, they labor downward, they become brutish; but a war for true liberty, for national life, for our homes and our inheritance, and for the oppressed, is elevating, purifying. War is terrible in itself, and in some of its consequences, but there is a bow on the cloud. When the bolt has spent itself in the pestiferous air, all nature is bright and glorious. With true discipline, soldiers are made vigorous in body; they are also quickened in mind by the tactics and incitements of warfare, they are ennobled by high motives, and may leave the campaign better than when they entered it. Courage is awakened; love of liberty and order inspired; benevolence increased; and loyalty exalted by this war. What men bleed for they value. I have been delighted with the eagerness with which many soldiers whom I have visited, listened to Christian address, and received the word of God. It is a matter of gratulation that but few arrests are made in our city in these days, not because the police are less watchful, but because the debased portion of the population are inspired with a better thought. It is also hopeful to find, that many who entered our city as volunteers, or as drafted soldiers, are actually being reformed from their evil habits, under the greater strictness of camp discipline. We are cheered also by the fact that the people generally are more earnest than formerly in their attendance on divine worship; more solemn, and full of feeling, and disposed to study the Bible, They need God. They look to God. We all feel the Bible to be more than ever precious. Its solemn prophecies are swelling into fulfillment. The day of God is approaching, and the kingdoms of the earth are giving way for the coming of the Great King! The feeling is, and ought to be, intense for the conflict. Let the question be decided. Let half a million of freemen be called, when the time shall indicate, to form a line of fire along the boundary that separates Secession from loyalty. Let them take up their mighty march through the revolted territory, if it will not otherwise submit, and proclaim as they go, "Liberty throughout the land!" Let the flag that waved over the suffering heroes of Valley Forge, and the conquerors of Yorktown, wave forever on the Capitol, and over every village and subject in the land! Nay, it must be so. We must bow, if we do not conquer. They have proclaimed it. Come down, then, from the Northern mountains, and out from the forests and the fields, ye sons of the Pilgrims, with your firm force of will, and your achieving arms! Come up from the marts of commerce, ye daring children of the Empire State, and ye firm hearts of New Jersey and of Delaware! Come forth from the echoes of Erie, and the shores of Michigan and Superior! Come from the free air of Western Virginia and Ohio, from the loyal districts of Maryland, Kentucky, and Tennessee! Come forth from the great West! and with them, go, ye strong and true of my adopted State and City, who listened even in your cradles, to the bell which gives out its tones over the birth-place of our liberties! Go forth, and live the epic that future ages shall sing: be yours the glory of _rooting this treason out_! And as they go, bless them, aged fathers with tremulous voice! and mothers, bid them God speed! wives and sisters and Christian hearts, load them with your gifts and your prayers! And when they are gone, remember them at the home altar, and bless God that your country does not want defenders; and when your tears are dried up, and your cause is proclaimed triumphant, weep again tears of joy as you clasp the returning heroes to your arms! Or, if they shall be borne home to you wounded and worn in their country's service, be grateful that your eye can watch over them, and your hand minister to their necessities and griefs. Or finally, should they fall in battle, you will have the consolation of knowing that they saved your country; that they did something to consolidate its strength, and illustrate its glory before the world. For we are destined to conquer,--and after this trial the nation will come forth as gold. We need to suffer that we may value our liberties. From the valley of tears arise notes of victory and hallelujahs. Nations as well as saints, come up out of great tribulation. "None die in vain Upon their country's war-fields! Every drop Of blood, thus poured for faith and freedom, hath A tone, which from the night of ages, from the gulf Of death, shall burst, and make its high appeal Sound unto earth and heaven." The motto now is--"No compromise! _Submission_! Give up the leaders of rebellion! Bow to law! Nay, more--no longer _ask_ us to protect your dark system!" But it is possible that, while we stir ourselves up to a fierce belligerency against rebellion, and rush into hot condemnation of those whom we once called "_brethren," we_ are rebels against God! Some of you who are equipping for the war, and ready to take the field in defence of your country and her laws, are in heart at war with holiness and God! You may see in the fever of our whole population what men think of treason against a good earthly government! See also in the commands of God, in the life and death of Jesus, in the declared interest and anxious watchfulness of angels, in the whole glorified army that shall attend the Great King when he comes to set up his final assize,--what the Principalities and Powers in Heaven think of your treason against the holy government of Jehovah! Behold in the uplifted arm of Justice--hear in the voice of the Judge, what shall be done to him who will not repent! Now the offers of pardon are made through the death and sacrifice of Jesus. Repent; forsake your sin; lay down your arms; retire from your rebellious attitude; and from the throne of Mercy shall the fact be proclaimed, that _you_ are pardoned and restored! 
10326	----	Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk DAVID: FIVE SERMONS NOTE:--The first four of these Sermons were preached before the University of Cambridge. SERMON I. DAVID'S WEAKNESS Psalm lxxviii. 71, 72, 73. He chose David his servant, and took him away from the sheep-folds. As he was following the ewes great with young ones, he took him; that he might feed Jacob his people, and Israel his inheritance. So he fed them with a faithful and true heart, and ruled them prudently with all his power. I am about to preach to you four sermons on the character of David. His history, I take for granted, you all know. I look on David as an all but ideal king, educated for his office by an all but ideal training. A shepherd first; a life--be it remembered--full of danger in those times and lands; then captain of a band of outlaws; and lastly a king, gradually and with difficulty fighting his way to a secure throne. This was his course. But the most important stage of it was probably the first. Among the dumb animals he learnt experience which he afterwards put into practice among human beings. The shepherd of the sheep became the shepherd of men. He who had slain the lion and the bear became the champion of his native land. He who followed the ewes great with young, fed God's oppressed and weary people with a faithful and true heart, till he raised them into a great and strong nation. So both sides of the true kingly character, the masculine and the feminine, are brought out in David. For the greedy and tyrannous, he has indignant defiance: for the weak and helpless, patient tenderness. My motives for choosing this subject I will explain in a very few words. We have heard much of late about 'Muscular Christianity.' A clever expression, spoken in jest by I know not whom, has been bandied about the world, and supposed by many to represent some new ideal of the Christian character. For myself, I do not understand what it means. It may mean one of two things. If it mean the first, it is a term somewhat unnecessary, if not somewhat irreverent. If it mean the second, it means something untrue and immoral. Its first and better meaning may be simply a healthy and manful Christianity, one which does not exalt the feminine virtues to the exclusion of the masculine. That certain forms of Christianity have committed this last fault cannot be doubted. The tendency of Christianity, during the patristic and the Middle Ages, was certainly in that direction. Christians were persecuted and defenceless, and they betook themselves to the only virtues which they had the opportunity of practising--gentleness, patience, resignation, self-sacrifice, and self-devotion--all that is loveliest in the ideal female character. And God forbid that that side of the Christian life should ever be undervalued. It has its own beauty, its own strength too made perfect in weakness; in prison, in torture, at the fiery stake, on the lonely sick-bed, in long years of self-devotion and resignation, and in a thousand womanly sacrifices unknown to man, but written for ever in God's book of life. But as time went on, and the monastic life, which, whether practised by man or by woman, is essentially a feminine life, became more and more exclusively the religious ideal, grave defects began to appear in what was really too narrow a conception of the human character. The monks of the Middle Ages, in aiming exclusively at the virtues of women, generally copied little but their vices. Their unnatural attempt to be wiser than God, and to unsex themselves, had done little but disease their mind and heart. They resorted more and more to those arts which are the weapons of crafty, ambitious, and unprincipled women. They were too apt to be cunning, false, intriguing. They were personally cowardly, as their own chronicles declare; querulous, passionate, prone to unmanly tears; prone, as their writings abundantly testify, to scold, to use the most virulent language against all who differed from them; they were, at times, fearfully cruel, as evil women will be; cruel with that worst cruelty which springs from cowardice. If I seem to have drawn a harsh picture of them, I can only answer that their own documents justify abundantly all that I have said. Gradually, to supply their defects, another ideal arose. The warriors of the Middle Ages hoped that they might be able to serve God in the world, even in the battle-field. At least, the world and the battle-field they would not relinquish, but make the best of them. And among them arose a new and a very fair ideal of manhood: that of the 'gentle, very perfect knight,' loyal to his king and to his God, bound to defend the weak, succour the oppressed, and put down the wrong-doer; with his lady, or bread-giver, dealing forth bounteously the goods of this life to all who needed; occupied in the seven works of mercy, yet living in the world, and in the perfect enjoyment of wedded and family life. This was the ideal. Of course sinful human nature fell short of it, and defaced it by absurdities; but I do not hesitate to say that it was a higher ideal of Christian excellence than had appeared since the time of the Apostles, putting aside the quite exceptional ideal of the blessed martyrs. A higher ideal, I say, was chivalry, with all its shortcomings. And for this reason: that it asserted the possibility of consecrating the whole manhood, and not merely a few faculties thereof, to God; and it thus contained the first germ of that Protestantism which conquered at the Reformation. Then was asserted, once for all, on the grounds of nature and reason, as well as of Holy Scripture, the absolute sanctity of family and national life, and the correlative idea, namely, the consecration of the whole of human nature to the service of God, in that station to which God had called each man. Then the Old Testament, with the honour which it puts upon family and national life, became precious to man, as it had never been before; and such a history as David's became, not as it was with the mediaeval monks, a mere repertory of fanciful metaphors and allegories, but the solemn example, for good and for evil, of a man of like passions and like duties with the men of the modern world. These great truths, once asserted, could not but conquer; and they will conquer to the end. All attempts to restore the monastic and feminine ideal, like that of good Nicholas Ferrar at Little Gidding, failed. They withered like hot-house exotics in the free, keen, bracing English air; and in our civil wars, Cavalier and Puritan, in whatever they differed, never differed in their sound and healthy conviction that true religion did not crush, but strengthened and consecrated a valiant and noble manhood. Now if all that 'Muscular Christianity' means is that, then the expression is altogether unnecessary; for we have had the thing for three centuries--and defective likewise, for it is not a merely muscular, but a human Christianity which the Bible taught our forefathers, and which our forefathers have handed down to us. But there is another meaning sometimes attached to this flippant expression, 'Muscular Christianity,' which is utterly immoral and intolerable. There are those who say, and there have been of late those who have written books to shew, that provided a young man is sufficiently brave, frank, and gallant, he is more or less absolved from the common duties of morality and self-restraint. That physical prowess is a substitute for virtue is certainly no new doctrine. It is the doctrine of every red man on the American prairies, of every African chief who ornaments his hut with human skulls. It was the doctrine of our heathen forefathers, when they came hither slaying, plundering, burning, tossing babes on their spear-points. But I am sorry that it should be the doctrine of any one calling himself a gentleman, much more a Christian. It is certainly not the doctrine of the Catechism, which bids us renounce the flesh, and live by the help of God's Spirit a new life of duty to God and to our neighbour. It is certainly not the doctrine of the New Testament. Whatsoever St. Paul meant by bidding his disciples crucify the flesh, with its affections and lusts, he did not mean thereby that they were to deify the flesh, as the heathen round them did in their profligate mysteries and in their gladiatorial exhibitions. Neither, though the Old Testament may seem to put more value on physical prowess than does the New Testament, is it the doctrine of the Old Testament, as I purpose to show you from the life and history of David. Nothing, nothing, can be a substitute for purity and virtue. Man will always try to find substitutes for it. He will try to find a substitute in superstition, in forms and ceremonies, in voluntary humility and worship of angels, in using vain repetitions, and fancying that he will be heard for his much speaking; he will try to find a substitute in intellect, and the worship of intellect, and art, and poetry; or he will try to find it, as in the present case, in the worship of his own animal powers, which God meant to be his servants and not his masters. But let no man lay that flattering unction to his soul. The first and the last business of every human being, whatever his station, party, creed, capacities, tastes, duties, is morality: Virtue, Virtue, always Virtue. Nothing that man will ever invent will absolve him from the universal necessity of being good as God is good, righteous as God is righteous, and holy as God is holy. Believe it, young men, believe it. Better would it be for any one of you to be the stupidest and the ugliest of mortals, to be the most diseased and abject of cripples, the most silly, nervous incapable personage who ever was a laughingstock for the boys upon the streets, if only you lived, according to your powers, the life of the Spirit of God; than to be as perfectly gifted, as exquisitely organised in body and mind as David himself, and not to live the life of the Spirit of God, the life of goodness, which is the only life fit for a human being wearing the human flesh and soul which Christ took upon him on earth, and wears for ever in heaven, a Man indeed in the midst of the throne of God. And therefore it is, as you will yourselves have perceived already, that I have chosen to speak to you of David, his character, his history. It is the character of a man perfectly gifted, exquisitely organised. He has personal beauty, daring, prowess, and skill in war; he has generosity, nobleness, faithfulness, chivalry as of a mediaeval and Christian knight; he is a musician, poet, seemingly an architect likewise; he is, moreover, a born king; he has a marvellous and most successful power of attracting, disciplining, ruling his fellow-men. So thoroughly human a personage is he, that God speaks of him as the man after his own heart; that our blessed Lord condescends to call himself especially the Son of David. For there is in this man (as there is said to be in all great geniuses) a feminine, as well as a masculine vein; a passionate tenderness; a keen sensibility; a vast capacity of sympathy, sadness, and suffering, which makes him truly the type of Christ, the Man of sorrows; which makes his Psalms to this day the text-book of the afflicted, of tens of thousands who have not a particle of his beauty, courage, genius; but yet can feel, in mean hovels and workhouse sick-beds, that the warrior-poet speaks to their human hearts, and for their human hearts, as none other can speak, save Christ himself, the Son of David and the Son of man. A man, I say, of intense sensibilities; and therefore capable, as is but too notorious, of great crimes, as well as of great virtues. And when I mention this last fact, I must ask you to pause, and consider with me very solemnly what it means. We may pervert, or rather misstate the fact in more than one way, to our own hurt. We may say cynically, David had his good points and his bad ones, as all your great saints have. Look at them closely, and in spite of all their pretensions you will find them no better than their neighbours. And so we may comfort ourselves, in our own mediocrity and laziness, by denying the existence of all greatness and goodness. Nathan the prophet said that David's conduct would be open to this very interpretation, and would give great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme. But I trust that none of you wish to be numbered among the enemies of the Lord. Again, we may say, sentimentally, that these great weaknesses are on the whole the necessary concomitants of great strength; that such highly organised and complex characters must not be judged by the rule of common respectability; and that it is a more or less fine thing to be capable at once of great virtues and great vices. Books which hint, and more than hint this, will suggest themselves to you at once. I only advise you not to listen to their teaching, as you will find it lead to very serious consequences, both in this life and in the life to come. But if we do say this, or anything like this, we say it on our own responsibility. David's biographers say nothing of the kind. David himself says nothing of the kind. He never represents himself as a compound of strength and weakness. He represents himself as weakness itself--as incapacity utter and complete. To overlook that startling fact is to overlook the very element which has made David's Psalms the text-book for all human weaknesses, penitences, sorrows, struggles, aspirations, for nigh three thousand years. But this subject is too large for me to speak of to-day; and too deep for me to attempt an explanation till I have turned your thoughts toward another object, which will explain to you David, and yourselves, and, it seems to me at times, every problem of humanity. Look not at David, but at David's greater Son; and consider Christ upon his Cross. Consider him of whom it is written, 'Thou art fairer than the children of men: full of grace are thy lips, because God hath blessed thee for ever. Gird thee with thy sword upon thy thigh, O thou most Mighty, according to thy worship and renown. Good luck have thou with thine honour; ride on, because of the word of truth, of meekness, and righteousness; and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things. Thy arrows are very sharp, and the people shall be subdued unto thee, even in the midst among the King's enemies.' Consider him who alone fulfilled these words, who fulfils them even now eternally in heaven, King over all, God blessed for ever. And then sit down at the foot of his Cross: however young, strong, proud, gallant, gifted, ambitious you may be- -sit down at the foot of Christ's Cross, and look thereon, till you see what it means, and must mean for ever. See how he nailed to that Cross, not in empty metaphor but in literal fact, in agonising soul and body, all of human nature which the world admires--youth, grace, valour, power, eloquence, intellect: not because they were evil, for he possessed them doubtless himself as did none other of the sons of men--not, I say, because they were evil, but because they were worthless and as nothing beside that divine charity which would endure and conquer for ever, when all the noblest accidents of the body and the mind had perished, or seemed to perish. In the utmost weakness and shame of human flesh he would shew forth the strength and glory of the Divine Spirit; the strength and the glory of duty and obedience; of patience and forgiveness; of benevolence and self-sacrifice; the strength and glory of that burning love for human beings which could stoop from heaven to earth that it might seek and save that which was lost. Yes. Look at Christ upon his Cross; the sight which melted the hearts of our fierce forefathers, and turned them from the worship of Thor and Odin to the worship of 'The white Christ;' and from the hope of a Valhalla of brute prowess, to the hope of a heaven of righteousness and love. Look at Christ upon his Cross, and see there, as they saw, the true prowess, the true valour, the true chivalry, the true glory, the true manhood, most human when most divine, which is self-sacrifice and love--as possible to the weakest, meanest, simplest, as to the strongest, most gallant, and most wise. Look upon him, and learn from him, and take his yoke upon you, for he is meek and lowly of heart, and you shall find rest unto your souls; and in you shall be fulfilled the prophecy of Jeremiah, which he spake, saying, 'Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither the mighty man glory in his might, neither let the rich man glory in his wealth: but let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the Lord, who exercises loving-kindness, judgment, and righteousness in the earth: for in these things I delight, saith the Lord.' SERMON II. DAVID'S STRENGTH Psalm xxvii. 1. The Lord is my light, and my salvation; whom then shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid? I said, last Sunday, that the key-note of David's character was not the assertion of his own strength, but the confession of his own weakness. And I say it again. But it is plain that David had strength, and of no common order; that he was an eminently powerful, able, and successful man. From whence then came that strength? He says, from God. He says, throughout his life, as emphatically as did St. Paul after him, that God's strength was made perfect in his weakness. God is his deliverer, his guide, his teacher, his inspirer. The Lord is his strength, who teaches his hands to war, and his fingers to fight; his hope and his fortress, his castle and deliverer, his defence, in whom he trusts; who subdueth the people that is under him. To God he ascribes, not only his success in life, but his physical prowess. By God's help he slays the lion and the bear. By God's help he has nerve to kill the Philistine giant. By God's help he is so strong that his arms can break even a bow of steel. It is God who makes his feet like hart's feet, and enables him to leap over the walls of the mountain fortresses. And we must pause ere we call such utterances mere Eastern metaphor. It is far more probable that they were meant as and were literal truths. David was not likely to have been a man of brute gigantic strength. So delicate a brain was probably coupled to a delicate body. Such a nature, at the same time, would be the very one most capable, under the influence--call it boldly, inspiration--of a great and patriotic cause, of great dangers and great purposes; capable, I say, at moments, of accesses of almost superhuman energy, which he ascribed, and most rightly, to the inspiration of God. But it is not merely as his physical inspirer or protector that he has faith in God. He has a deeper, a far deeper instinct than even that; the instinct of a communion, personal, practical, living, between God, the fount of light and goodness, and his own soul, with its capacity of darkness as well as light, of evil as well as good. In one word, David is a man of faith and a man of prayer--as God grant all you may be. It is this one fixed idea, that God could hear him, and that God would help him, which gives unity and coherence to the wonderful variety of David's Psalms. It is this faith which gives calm confidence to his views of nature and of man; and enables him to say, as he looks upon his sheep feeding round him, 'The Lord is my Shepherd, therefore I shall not want.' Faith it is which enables him to foresee that though the heathen rage, and the kings of the earth stand up, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord and his Anointed, yet the righteous cause will surely prevail, for God is king himself. Faith it is which enables him to bear up against the general immorality, and while he cries, 'Help me, Lord, for there is not one godly man left, for the faithful fail from among the children of men'--to make answer to himself in words of noble hope and consolation, 'Now for the comfortless troubles' sake of the needy, and because of the deep sighing of the poor, I will up, saith the Lord, and will help every one from him that swelleth against him, and will set him at rest.' Faith it is which gives a character, which no other like utterances have, to those cries of agony--cries as of a lost child--which he utters at times with such noble and truthful simplicity. They issue, almost every one of them, in a sudden counter-cry of joy as pathetic as the sorrow which has gone before. 'O Lord, rebuke me not in thine indignation: neither chasten me in thy displeasure. Have mercy upon me, O Lord, for I am weak: O Lord, heal me, for my bones are vexed. My soul also is sore troubled: but, Lord, how long wilt thou punish me? Turn thee, O Lord, and deliver my soul: O save me for thy mercy's sake. For in death no man remembereth thee: and who will give thee thanks in the pit? I am weary of my groaning; every night wash I my bed: and water my couch with my tears. My beauty is gone for very trouble: and worn away because of all mine enemies. Away from me, all ye that work vanity, for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping. The Lord hath heard my petition: the Lord will receive my prayer.' Faith it is, in like wise, which gives its peculiar grandeur to that wonderful 18th Psalm, David's song of triumph; his masterpiece, and it may be the masterpiece of human poetry, inspired or uninspired, only approached by the companion-Psalm, the 144th. From whence comes that cumulative energy, by which it rushes on, even in our translation, with a force and swiftness which are indeed divine; thought following thought, image image, verse verse, before the breath of the Spirit of God, as wave leaps after wave before the gale? What is the element in that ode, which even now makes it stir the heart like a trumpet? Surely that which it itself declares in the very first verse: 'I will love thee, O Lord, my strength; the Lord is my stony rock, and my defence: my Saviour, my God, and my might, in whom I will trust, my buckler, the horn also of my salvation, and my refuge.' What is it which gives life and reality to the magnificent imagery of the seventh and following verses? 'The earth trembled and quaked: the very foundations also of the hills shook, and were removed, because he was wroth. There went a smoke out in his presence: and a consuming fire out of his mouth, so that coals were kindled at it. He bowed the heavens also, and came down: and it was dark under his feet. He rode upon the cherubims, and did fly: he came flying upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness his secret place: his pavilion round about him with dark water, and thick clouds to cover him. At the brightness of his presence his clouds removed: hailstones, and coals of fire. The Lord also thundered out of heaven, and the Highest gave his thunder: hailstones, and coals of fire. He sent out his arrows, and scattered them: he cast forth lightnings, and destroyed them. The springs of waters were seen, and the foundations of the round world were discovered, at thy chiding, O Lord: at the blasting of the breath of thy displeasure. He shall send down from on high to fetch me: and shall take me out of many waters.' What protects such words from the imputation of mere Eastern exaggeration? The firm conviction that God is the deliverer, not only of David, but of all who trust in God; that the whole majesty of God, and all the powers of nature, are arrayed on the side of the good and of the oppressed. 'The Lord shall reward me after my righteous dealing: according to the cleanness of my hands shall he recompense me. Because I have kept the ways of the Lord: and have not forsaken my God, as the wicked doth. For I have an eye unto all his laws: and will not cast out his commandments from me. I was also uncorrupt before him: and eschewed mine own wickedness. Therefore shall the Lord reward me after my righteous dealing: and according unto the cleanness of my hands in his eyesight. With the holy thou shalt be holy: and with a perfect man thou shalt be perfect.' Faith, again, it is, to turn from David's highest to his lowest phase--faith in God it is which has made that 51st Psalm the model of all true penitence for evermore. Faith in God, in the spite of his full consciousness that God is about to punish him bitterly for the rest of his life. Faith it is which gives to that Psalm its peculiarly simple, deliberate, manly tone; free from all exaggerated self-accusations, all cowardly cries of terror. He is crushed down, it is true. The tone of his words shews us that throughout. But crushed by what? By the discovery that he has offended God? Not in the least. For the sake of your own souls, as well as for that of honest critical understanding of the Scriptures, do not foist that meaning into David's words. He never says that he had offended God. Had he been a mediaeval monk, had he been an average superstitious man of any creed or time, he would have said so, and cried, I have offended God; he is offended and angry with me, how shall I avert his wrath? Not so. David has discovered not an angry, but a forgiving God; a God of love and goodness, who desires to make his creatures good. Penitential prayers in all ages have too often wanted faith in God, and therefore have been too often prayers to avert punishment. This, this--the model of all truly penitent prayers--is that of a man who is to be punished, and is content to take his punishment, knowing that he deserves it, and far more beside. And why? Because, as always, David has faith in God. God is a good and just being, and he trusts him accordingly; and that very discovery of the goodness, not the sternness of God, is the bitterest pang, the deepest shame to David's spirit. Therefore he can face without despair the discovery of a more deep, radical inbred evil in himself than he ever expected before. 'Behold, I was shapen in wickedness: and in sin hath my mother conceived me;' because he could say also, 'Thou requirest truth in the inward parts; and shalt make me to understand wisdom secretly.' He can cry to God, out of the depths of his foulness, 'Make me a clean heart, O God: and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence: and take not thy holy Spirit from me. O give me the comfort of thy help again: and stablish me with thy free Spirit. Then shall I teach thy ways unto the wicked: and sinners shall be converted unto thee.' He can cry thus, because he has discovered that the will of God is not to hate, not to torture, not to cast away from his presence, but to restore his creatures to goodness, that he may thereby restore them to usefulness. David has discovered that God demands no sacrifice, much less self-torturing penance. What he demands is the heart. The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit. A broken and a contrite heart he will not despise. It is such utterances as these which have given, for now many hundred years, their priceless value to the little book of Psalms ascribed to the shepherd outlaw of the Judaean hills. It is such utterances as these which have sent the sound of his name into all lands, and his words throughout all the world. Every form of human sorrow, doubt, struggle, error, sin; the nun agonising in the cloister; the settler struggling for his life in Transatlantic forests; the pauper shivering over the embers in his hovel, and waiting for kind death; the man of business striving to keep his honour pure amid the temptations of commerce; the prodigal son starving in the far country, and recollecting the words which he learnt long ago at his mother's knee; the peasant boy trudging a- field in the chill dawn, and remembering that the Lord is his shepherd, therefore he will not want--all shapes of humanity have found, and will find to the end of time, a word said to their inmost hearts, and more, a word said for those hearts to the living God of heaven, by the vast humanity of David, the man after God's own heart; the most thoroughly human figure, as it seems to me, which had appeared upon the earth before the coming of that perfect Son of man, who is over all, God blessed for ever. Amen. It may be said, David's belief is no more than the common belief of fanatics. They have in all ages fancied themselves under the special protection of Deity, the object of special communications from above. Doubtless they have; and evil conclusions have they drawn therefrom, in every age. But the existence of a counterfeit is no argument against the existence of the reality; rather it is an argument for the existence of the reality. In this case it is impossible to conceive how the idea of communion with an unseen being ever entered the human mind at all, unless it had been put there originally by fact and experience. Man would never have even dreamed of a living God, had not that living God been a reality, who did not leave the creature to find his Creator, but stooped from heaven, at the very beginning of our race, to find his creature. And a reality you will surely find it--that living and practical communication between your souls, and that Father in heaven who created them. It will not be real, but morbid, even imaginary, just in proportion as your souls are tainted with self-conceit, ambition, self-will, malice, passion, or any wilful vice; especially with the vice of bigotry, which settles beforehand for God what he shall teach the soul, and in what manner he shall teach it, and turns a deaf ear to his plainest lessons if they cannot be made to fit into some favourite formula or theory. But it will be real, practical, healthy, soul-saving, in the very deepest sense of that word, just in proportion as your eye is single and your heart pure; just in proportion as you hunger and thirst after righteousness, and wish and try simply and humbly to do your duty in that station to which God has called you, and to learn joyfully and trustingly anything and everything which God may see fit to teach you. Then as your day your strength shall be. Then will the Lord teach you, and inform you with his eye, and guide you in the way wherein you should go. Then will you obey that appeal of the Psalmist, 'Be ye not like to horse and mule, which have no understanding, whose mouths must be held in with bit and bridle, lest they fall upon thee. Great plagues remain for the ungodly. But whoso putteth his trust in the Lord, mercy embraceth him on every side.' For understand this well, young men, and settle it in your hearts as the first condition of human life, yea, of the life of every rational created being, that a man is justified only by faith; and not only a man, but angels, archangels, and all possible created spirits, past, present, and to come. All stand, all are in their right state, only as long as they are consciously dependent on God the Father of spirits and his Son Jesus Christ the Lord, in whom they live and move and have their being. The moment they attempt to assert themselves, whether their own power, their own genius, their own wisdom, or even their own virtue, they ipso facto sin, and are justified and just no longer; because they are trying to take themselves out of their just and right state of dependence, and to put themselves into an unjust and wrong state of independence. To assert that anything is their own, to assert that their virtue is their own, just as much as to assert that their wisdom, or any other part of their being, is their own, is to deny the primary fact of their existence--that in God they live and move and have that being. And therefore Milton's Satan, though, over and above all his other grandeurs, he had been adorned with every virtue, would have been Satan still by the one sin of ingratitude, just because and just as long as he set up himself, apart from that God from whom alone comes every good and perfect gift. Settle it in your hearts, young men, settle it in your hearts--or rather pray to God to settle it therein; and if you would love life and see good days, recollect daily and hourly that the only sane and safe human life is dependence on God himself, and that-- Unless above himself he can Exalt himself, how poor a thing is man. SERMON III. DAVID'S ANGER Psalm cxliii. 11, 12. Quicken me, O Lord, for thy name's sake: for thy righteousness' sake bring my soul out of trouble. And of thy mercy cut off mine enemies, and destroy all them that afflict my soul: for I am thy servant. There are those who would say that I dealt unfairly last Sunday by the Psalms of David; that in order to prove them inspired, I ignored an element in them which is plainly uninspired, wrong, and offensive; namely, the curses which he invokes upon his enemies. I ignored it, they would say, because it was fatal to my theory! because it proved David to have the vindictive passions of other Easterns; to be speaking, not by the inspiration of God, but of his own private likes and dislikes; to be at least a fanatic who thinks that his cause must needs be God's cause, and who invokes the lightnings of heaven on all who dare to differ from him. Others would say that such words were excusable in David, living under the Old Law; for it was said by them of old time, 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy:' but that our Lord has formally abrogated that permission; 'But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, and do good to those who despitefully use you and persecute you.' How unnecessary, and how wrong then, they would say, it is of the Church of England to retain these cursing Psalms in her public worship, and put them into the mouths of her congregations. Either they are merely painful, as well as unnecessary to Christians; or if they mean anything, they excuse and foster the habit too common among religious controversialists of invoking the wrath of heaven on their opponents. I argue with neither of the objectors. But the question is a curious and an important one; and I am bound, I think, to examine it in a sermon which, like the present, treats of David's chivalry. What David meant by these curses can be best known from his own actions. What certain persons have meant by them since is patent enough from their actions. Mediaeval monks considered but too often the enemies of their creed, of their ecclesiastical organisation, even of their particular monastery, to be ipso facto enemies of God; and applied to them the seeming curses of David's Psalms, with fearful additions, of which David, to his honour, never dreamed. 'May they feel with Dathan and Abiram the damnation of Gehenna,' {285} is a fair sample of the formulae which are found in the writings of men who, while they called themselves the servants of Jesus Christ our Lord, derived their notions of the next world principally from the sixth book of Virgil's AEneid. And what they meant by their words their acts shewed. Whenever they had the power, they were but too apt to treat their supposed enemies in this life, as they expected God to treat them in the next. The history of the Inquisition on the continent, in America, and in the Portuguese Indies--of the Marian persecutions in England--of the Piedmontese massacres in the 17th century--are facts never to be forgotten. Their horrors have been described in too authentic documents; they remain for ever the most hideous pages in the history of sinful human nature. Do we find a hint of any similar conduct on the part of David? If not, it is surely probable that he did not mean by his imprecations what the mediaeval clergy meant. Certainly, whatsoever likeness there may have been in language, the contrast in conduct is most striking. It is a special mark of David's character, as special as his faith in God, that he never avenges himself with his own hand. Twice he has Saul in his power: once in the cave at Engedi, once at the camp at Hachilah, and both times he refuses nobly to use his opportunity. He is his master, the Lord's Anointed; and his person is sacred in the eyes of David his servant--his knight, as he would have been called in the Middle Age. The second time David's temptation is a terrible one. He has softened Saul's wild heart by his courtesy and pathos when he pleaded with him, after letting him escape from the cave; and he has sworn to Saul that when he becomes king he will never cut off his children, or destroy his name out of his father's home. Yet we find Saul, immediately after, attacking him again out of mere caprice; and once more falling into his hands. Abishai says--and who can wonder?--'Let me smite him with the spear to the earth this once, and I will not smite a second time.' What wonder? The man is not to be trusted--truce with him is impossible; but David still keeps his chivalry, in the true meaning of that word: 'Destroy him not, for who can stretch forth his hand against the Lord's Anointed, and be guiltless? As the Lord liveth, the Lord shall smite him, or his day shall come to die; or he shall go down into battle, and perish. But the Lord forbid that I should stretch forth my hand against the Lord's Anointed.' And if it be argued, that David regarded the person of a king as legally sacred, there is a case more clear still, in which he abjures the right of revenge upon a private person. Nabal, in addition to his ingratitude, has insulted him with the bitterest insult which could be offered to a free man in a slave- holding country. He has hinted that David is neither more nor less than a runaway slave. And David's heart is stirred by a terrible and evil spirit. He dare not trust his men, even himself, with his black thoughts. 'Gird on your swords,' is all that he can say aloud. But he had said in his heart, 'God do so and more to the enemies of David, if I leave a man alive by the morning light of all that pertain to him.' And yet at the first words of reason and of wisdom, urged doubtless by the eloquence of a beautiful and noble woman, but no less by the Spirit of God speaking through her, as all who call themselves gentlemen should know already, his right spirit returns to him. The chivalrous instinct of forgiveness and duty is roused once more; and he cries, 'Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, which sent thee this day to meet me; and blessed be thou, which hast kept me this day from shedding blood, and from avenging myself with mine own hand.' It is plain then, that David's notion of his duty to his enemies was very different from that of the monks. But still they are undeniably imprecations, the imprecations of a man smarting under cruel injustice; who cannot, and in some cases must not avenge himself, and who therefore calls on the just God to avenge him. Are we therefore to say that these utterances of David are uninspired? Not in the least: we are boldly to say that they are inspired, and by the very Spirit of God, who is the Spirit of justice and of judgment. Doubtless there were, in after ages, far higher inspirations. The Spirit of God was, and is gradually educating mankind, and individuals among mankind, like David, upward from lower truths to higher ones. That is the express assertion of our Lord and of his Apostles. But the higher and later inspiration does not make the lower and earlier false. It does not even always supersede it altogether. Each is true; and, for the most part, each must remain, and be respected, that they may complement each other. Let us look at this question rationally and reverently, free from all sentimental and immoral indulgence for sin and wrong. The first instinct of man is the Lex Talionis. As you do to me-- says the savage--so I have a right to do to you. If you try to kill me or mine, I have a right to kill you in return. Is this notion uninspired? I should be sorry to say so. It is surely the first form and the only possible first form of the sense of justice and retribution. As a man sows so shall he reap. If a man does wrong he deserves to be punished. No arguments will drive that great divine law out of the human mind; for God has put it there. After that inspiration comes a higher one. The man is taught to say, I must not punish my enemy if I can avoid it. God must punish him, either by the law of the land or by his providential judgments. To this height David rises. In a seemingly lawless age and country, under the most extreme temptation, he learns to say, 'Blessed be God who hath kept me from avenging myself with my own hand.' But still, it may be said, David calls down God's vengeance on his enemies. He has not learnt to hate the sin and yet love the sinner. Doubtless he has not: and it may have been right for his education, and for the education of the human race through him, that he did not. It may have been a good thing for him, as a future king; it may be a good thing for many a man now, to learn the sinfulness of sin, by feeling its effects in his own person; by writhing under those miseries of body and soul, which wicked men can, and do inflict on their fellow-creatures. There are sins which a good man will not pity, but wage internecine war against them; sins for which he is justified, if God have called him thereto, to destroy the sinner in his sins. The traitor, the tyrant, the ravisher, the robber, the extortioner, are not objects of pity, but of punishment; and it may have been very good for David to be taught by sharp personal experience, that those who robbed the widow and put the fatherless to death, like the lawless lords of his time; those like Saul, who smote the city of the priests for having given David food--men and women, children and sucklings, oxen and asses and sheep, with the edge of the sword; those who, like the nameless traitor who so often rouses his indignation--his own familiar friend who lifted up his heel against him--sought men's lives under the guise of friendship: that such, I say, were persons not to be tolerated upon the face of God's earth. We do not tolerate them now. We punish them by law. We even destroy them wholesale in war, without inquiring into their individual guilt or innocence. David was taught, not by abstract meditation in his study, but by bitter need and agony, not to tolerate them then. If he could have destroyed them as we do now, it is not for us to say that he would have been wrong. And what if he were indignant, and what if he expressed that indignation? I have yet to discover that indignation against wrong is aught but righteous, noble, and divine. The flush of rage and scorn which rises, and ought to rise in every honest heart, when we see a woman or a child ill-used, a poor man wronged or crushed--What is that, but the inspiration of Almighty God? What is that but the likeness of Christ? Woe to the man who has lost that feeling! Woe to the man who can stand coolly by, and see wrong done without a shock or a murmur, or even more, to the very limits of the just laws of this land. He may think it a fine thing so to do; a proof that he is an easy, prudent man of the world, and not a meddlesome enthusiast. But all that it does prove is: That the Spirit of God, who is the Spirit of justice and judgment, has departed from him. I say the Spirit of God and the likeness of Christ. Instead of believing David's own statement of the wrong doings of these men about him, we may say cynically, and as it seems to me most unfairly, 'Of course there were two sides to David's quarrels, as there are to all such; and of course he took his own side; and considered himself always in the right, and every one who differed from him in the wrong;' and such a speech will sound sufficiently worldly-wise to pass for philosophy with some critics; but, unfortunately, he who says that of David, will be bound in all fairness to say it of our Lord Jesus Christ. For you must remember that there was a class of sinners in Judaea, to whom our Lord speaks no word of pity or forgiveness: namely, the very men who were his own personal enemies, who were persecuting him, and going about to kill him; and that therefore, by any hard words toward them, he must have laid himself open, just as much as David laid himself open, to the imputation of personal spite. And yet, what did he say to the scribes and Pharisees: 'Ye go about to kill me, and therefore I am bound to say nothing harsh concerning you'? What he did say was this: 'Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?' Yes; in the Son of David, as in David's self, there was, and is, and will be for ever and ever, no weak, and really cruel indulgence; but a burning fire of indignation against all hypocrisy, tyranny, lust, cruelty, and every other sin by which men oppress, torment, deceive, degrade their fellow-men; and still more, still more, remember that, all young men, their fellow-women. That fire burns for ever--the Divine fire of God; the fire not of hatred, but of love to mankind, which will therefore punish, and if need be, exterminate all who shall dare to make mankind the worse, whether in body or soul or mind. But David prays God to kill his enemies. No doubt he does. Probably they deserved to be killed. He does not ask, you will always remember, if you be worthy of the name of critical students of the Bible--he does not ask, as did the mediaeval monks, that his enemies should go to endless torments after they died. True or false, that is a more modern notion--and if it be applied to the Psalms, an interpolation--of which David knew nothing. He asks simply that the men may die. Probably he knew his own business best, and the men deserved to die; to be killed either by God or by man, as do too many in all ages. If we take the Bible as it stands (and we have no right to do otherwise), these men were trying to kill David. He could not, and upon a point of honour, would not kill them himself. But he believed, and rightly, that God can punish the offender whom man cannot touch, and that He will, and does punish them. And if he calls on God to execute justice and judgment upon these men, he only calls on God to do what God is doing continually on the face of the whole earth. In fact, God does punish here, in this life. He does not, as false preachers say, give over this life to impunity, and this world to the devil, and only resume the reins of moral government and the right of retribution when men die and go into the next world. Here, in this life, he punishes sin; slowly, but surely, God punishes. And if any of you doubt my words, you have only to commit sin, and then see whether your sin will find you out. The whole question turns on this, Are we to believe in a living God, or are we not? If we are not, then David's words are of course worse than nothing. If we are, I do not see why David was wrong in calling on God to exercise that moral and providential government of the world, which is the very note and definition of a living God. But what right have we to use these words? My friends, if the Church bids us use these words, she certainly does not bid us act upon them. She keeps them, I believe most rightly, as a record of a human experience, which happily seems to us special and extreme, of which we, in a well-governed Christian land, know nothing, and shall never know. Special and extreme? Alas, alas! In too many countries, in too many ages, it has been the common, the almost universal experience of the many weak, enslaved, tortured, butchered at the wicked will of the few strong. There have been those in tens of thousands, there may be those again who will have a right to cry to God, 'Of thy goodness slay mine enemies, lest they slay, or worse than slay, both me and mine.' There were thousands of English after the Norman Conquest; there were thousands of Hindoos in Oude before its annexation; there are thousands of negroes at this moment in their native land of Africa, crushed and outraged by hereditary tyrants, who had and have a right to appeal to God, as David appealed to him against the robber lords of Palestine; a right to cry, 'Rid us, O God; if thou be a living God, a God of justice and mercy, rid us not only of these men, but of their children after them. This tyrant, stained with lust and wine and blood; this robber chieftain who privily in his lurking dens murders the innocent, and ravishes the poor when he getteth him into his net; this slave-hunting king who kills the captives whom he cannot sell; and whose children after him will inevitably imitate his cruelties and his rapine and treacheries--deal with him and his as they deserve. Set an ungodly man to be ruler over him; that he may find out what we have been enduring from his ungodly rule. Let his days be few, and another take his office. Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow. Let his children beg their bread out of desolate places. Let there be no man to pity him or take compassion on his fatherless children--to take his part, and breed up a fresh race of tyrants to our misery. Let the extortioner consume all he hath, and the stranger spoil his labour--for what he has is itself taken by extortion, and he has spoiled the labour of thousands. Let his posterity be destroyed, and in the next generation his name be clean put out. Let the wickedness of his father and the sin of his mother be had in remembrance in the sight of the Lord; that he may root out the memorial of them from the earth, and enable law and justice, peace and freedom to take the place of anarchy and tyranny and blood.' That prayer was answered--if we are to believe the records of Norman, not English, monks in England after the Conquest, by the speedy extinction of the most guilty families among the Norman conquerors. It is being answered, thank God, in Hindostan at this moment. It will surely be answered in Africa in God's good time; for the Lord reigneth, be the nations never so unquiet. And we, if we will read such words rationally and humanly, remembering the state of society in which they were written--a state of society, alas! which has endured, and still endures over a vast portion of the habitable globe; where might is right, and there is little or no principle, save those of lust and greed and revenge--then instead of wishing such words out of the Bible, we shall be glad to keep them there, as testimonies to the moral government of the world by a God and a Christ who will surely avenge the innocent blood; and as a Gospel of comfort to suffering millions, when the news reaches them at last, that they may call on God to deliver them from their tormentors, and that he will hear their cry, and will help them. SERMON IV. DAVID'S DESERTS 2 Samuel i. 26. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. Passing the love of woman? How can that be, we of these days shall say. What love can pass that, saving the boundless love of him who stooped from heaven to earth, that he might die on the Cross for us? No. David, when he sang those words, knew not the depth of woman's love. And we shall have a right so to speak. The indefeasible and Divine right which is bestowed by fact. As a fact, we do not find among the ancient Jews that exalting and purifying ideal of the relations between man and woman, which is to be found, thank God, in these days, in almost every British work of fiction or fancy. It is enunciated, remember always, in the oldest Hebrew document. On the very threshold of the Bible, in the very first chapters of Genesis, it is enunciated in its most ideal purity and perfection. But in practice it was never fulfilled. No man seems to have attempted to fulfil it. Man becomes a polygamist, lower than the very birds of the air. Abraham, the father of the faithful, has his Sarah, his princess-wife: but he has others beside, as many as he will. And so has David in like wise, to the grief and harm of both him and Abraham. So, it would seem, had the majority of the Jews till after the Captivity; and even then the law of divorce seems to have been as indulgent toward the man as it was unjust and cruel toward the woman. Then our blessed Lord reasserted the ideal and primaeval law. He testified in behalf of woman, the puppet of a tyrant who repudiated her upon the most frivolous pretext, and declared that in the beginning God made them male and female; the one husband for the one wife. But his words fell on unwilling ears. His disciples answered, that if the case of a man with his wife be such, it is not good for a man to marry. And such, as a fact, was the general opinion of Christendom for many centuries. But of that, as of other sayings of our Lord's, were his own words fulfilled, that the kingdom of God is as if a man should put seed into the ground, and sleep and wake, and the seed should spring up, and bear fruit, he knew not how. In due course of time, when the Teutonic nations were Christianised, there sprang up among them an idea of married love, which showed that our Lord's words had at last fallen on good ground, and were destined to bear fruit an hundredfold. Gradually, with many confusions, and sometimes sinful mistakes, there arose, not in the cloister, not in the study--not even, alas! in the churches of God, as they were then; but in the flowery meads of May; under the forest boughs, where birds sang to their mates; by the side of the winter hearth; from the lips of wandering minstrels; in the hearts of young creatures, whom neither the profligacy of worldlings, nor the prudery of monks, had yet defiled: from them arose a voice, most human and yet most divine, reasserting once more the lost law of Eden, and finding in its fulfilment, strength and purity, self-sacrifice and self-restraint. That voice grew clearer and more strong as time went on. It was purged from youthful mistakes and youthful grossnesses; till, at the Reformation, it could speak clearly, fully, once and for all--no longer on the ground of mere nature and private fancy, but on the ground of Scripture, and reason, and the eternal laws of God; and the highest ideal of family life became possible to the family and to the nation, in proportion as they accepted the teaching of the Reformation: and impossible, alas! in proportion as they still allowed themselves to be ruled by a priesthood who asserted the truly monstrous dogma, that the sexes reach each their highest excellence only when parted from each other. But these things were hidden from David. One can well conceive that he, so gifted outwardly and inwardly, must have experienced all that was then possible of woman's love. In one case, indeed, he was notably brought under that moral influence of woman, which we now regard, and rightly, as one of the holiest influences of this life. The scene is unique in Scripture. It reads like a scene out of the Middle Age. Abigail's meeting with David under the covert of the hill; her turning him from his purpose of wild revenge by graceful compliments, by the frank, and yet most modest expression of her sympathy and admiration; and David's chivalrous answer to her chivalrous appeal--all that scene, which painters have so often delighted to draw, is a fore-feeling, a prophecy, as it were, of the Christian chivalry of after ages. The scene is most human and most divine: and we are not shocked to hear that after Nabal's death the fair and rich lady joins her fortune to that of the wild outlaw, and becomes his wife to wander by wood and wold. But amid all the simple and sacred beauty of that scene, we cannot forget, we must not forget that Abigail is but one wife of many; that there is an element of pure, single, all-absorbing love absent at least in David's heart, which was present in the hearts of our forefathers in many a like case, and which they have handed down to us as an heirloom, as precious as that of our laws and liberties. And all this was sin unto David; and like all sin, brought with it its own punishment. I do not mean to judge him: to assign his exact amount of moral responsibility. Our Lord forbids us positively to do that to any man; and least of all, to a man who only acted according to his right, and the fashion of his race and his age. But we must fix it very clearly in our minds, that sins may be punished in this life, even though he who commits them is not aware that they are sins. If you are ignorant that fire burns, your ignorance will not prevent your hand from suffering if you put it into the fire. If you are of opinion that two and two make five, and therefore spend five pounds while you only possess four, your mistake will not prevent your being in debt. And so with all mortal affairs. Sin, [Greek], means first, it seems to me, a missing the mark, end, or aim of our existence; a falling short of the law, the ideal, the good works which God has prepared beforehand for us to walk in; and every such sin, conscious or unconscious, must avenge itself by the Divine laws of the universe, whether physical or spiritual. No miracle is needed; no intervention of God with his own laws. His laws are far too well made for him to need to break them a second time, because a sinner has broken them already. They avenge themselves. And so does polygamy. So it did in the case of David. It is a breach of the ideal law of human nature; and he who breaks that law must suffer, as David suffered. Look at the latter history of David, and at what it might have been. One can conceive so noble a personage under such woman's influence as, thank God, is common now, going down into an honoured old age, and living together with a helpmate worthy of him in godly love and honesty to his life's end; seeing his children Christianly and virtuously brought up, to the praise and honour of God. And what was the fact? The indulgence of his passions--seemingly harmless to him at first-- becomes most harmful ere he dies. He commits a crime, or rather a complication of crimes, which stains his name for ever among men. I do not think that we shall understand that great crime of David's, if we suppose it, with some theologians, to have been merely a sudden and solitary fall, from which he recovered by repentance, and became for the time to come as good a man as he had ever been. Such a theory, however well it may fit certain theological systems, does not fit the facts of human life, or, as I hold, the teaching of Scripture. Such terrible crimes are not committed by men in a right state of mind. Nemo repente fuit turpissimus. He who commits adultery, treachery, and murder, must have been long tampering, at least in heart, with all these. Had not David been playing upon the edge of sin, into sin he would not have fallen. He may have been quite unconscious of bad habits of mind; but they must have been there, growing in secret. The tyrannous self-will, which is too often developed by long success and command: the unscrupulous craft, which is too often developed by long adversity, and the necessity of sustaining oneself in a difficult position-- these must have been there. But even they would not have led David to do the deed which he did, had there not been in him likewise that fearful moral weakness which comes from long indulgence of the passions--a weakness which is reckless alike of conscience, of public opinion, and of danger either to earthly welfare or everlasting salvation. It has been said, 'But such a sin is so unlike David's character.' Doubtless it was, on the theory that David was a character mingled of good and evil. But on David's own theory, that he was an utterly weak person without the help of God, the act is perfectly like David. It is David's self. It is what David would naturally do when he had left hold of God. Had he left hold of God in the wilderness he would have become a mere robber-chieftain. He does leave hold of God in his palace on Zion, and he becomes a mere Eastern despot. And what of his sons? The fearful curse of Nathan, that the sword shall never depart from his house, needs, as usual, no miracle to fulfil it. It fulfils itself. The tragedies of his sons, of Amnon, of Absalom, are altogether natural--to have been foreseen, but not to have been avoided. The young men have seen their father put no restraint upon his passions. Why should they put restraint on theirs? How can he command them when he has not commanded himself? And yet self- restraint is what they, above all men, need. Upstart princes--the sons of a shepherd boy--intoxicated with honours to which they were not born; they need the severest discipline; they break out into the most frantic licence. What is there that they may not do, and dare not do? Nothing is sacred in their eyes. Luxury, ambition, revenge, vanity, recklessness of decency, open rebellion, disgrace them in the sight of all men. And all these vices, remember, are heightened by the fact that they are not brothers, but rivals; sons of different mothers, hating each other, plotting against each other; each, probably, urged on by his own mother, who wishes, poor fool, to set up her son as a competitor for the throne against all the rest. And so are enacted in David's house those tragedies which have disgraced, in every age, the harems of Eastern despots. But most significant is the fact, that those tragedies complete themselves by the sin and shame of David's one virtuous and famous son. Significant truly, that in his old age Solomon the wise should love strange women, and deserting for their sakes the God of his fathers, end as an idolater and a dotard, worshipping the abominations of the heathen, his once world-famous wisdom sunk into utter folly. But, it may be said, the punishment of David's sin fell on his sons, and not upon himself. How so? Can there be a more heavy punishment, a more bitter pain, than to be punished in and by his children; to see his own evil example working out their shame and ruin? But do not fancy that David's own character did not suffer for his sin. The theory that he became, instantly on his repentance, as good and great a man as he was before his fall, was convenient enough to certain theologians of past days; but it is neither warranted by the facts of Scripture, nor by the noble agonies, however noble, of the 51st Psalm. It is a prayer for restoration, and that of the only right and true kind: 'Take not thy Holy Spirit from me;' and, as such, it was doubtless heard: but it need not have been fulfilled instantly and at once. It need not have been fulfilled, it may be, till that life to come, of which David knew so little. It is a fact, it was not fulfilled in this life. We read henceforth of no noble and heroical acts of David. From that time forth--I speak with all diffidence, and merely as it seems to me--he is a broken man. His attitude in Absalom's rebellion is all but imbecile. No act is recorded of him to the day of his death but what is questionable, if not mean and crafty. The one sudden flash of the old nobleness which he has shewn in pardoning Shimei, he himself stultifies with his dying lips by a mean command to Solomon to entrap and slay the man whom he has too rashly forgiven. The whole matter of the sacrifice of Saul's sons is so very strange, so puzzling, even shocking to our ideas of right and wrong, that I cannot wonder at, though I dare not endorse, Coleridge's bold assertion, that they were sacrificed to a plot of State policy, and the suspicion of some critics, that the whole scene was arranged between David and a too complaisant priesthood, and God's name blasphemously taken in vain to find a pretext for a political murder. And so David shivers pitiably to his grave, after a fashion which has furnished a jest for cynics and infidels, but which contains, to the eyes of a wise man, the elements of the deepest tragedy; one more awful lesson that human beauty, valour, wit, genius, success, glory, are vanity of vanities: that man is nothing, and God is all in all. But some may ask, What has all this to do with us? To do with us? Do you think that the Scripture says in vain, 'All these things are written for our example'? As long as human nature is what it is now, and was three thousand years ago, so long shall we be tempted to commit the same sins as David: different in outward form, according to the conditions of society; but the same in spirit, the same in sinfulness, and the same in the sure punishment which they bring. And above all, will men to the end be tempted to the sin of self-indulgence, want of self-control. In many ways, but surely in some way or other, will every man's temptation be, to lose self- control. Therefore settle it in your minds, young men, that the first and the last of all virtues and graces of which God can give is self- control; as necessary for the saint and the sage, lest they become fanatics or pedants, as for the young man in the hey-day of youth and health; but as necessary for the young man as for the saint and the sage, lest, while they become only fanatics and pedants, he become a profligate, and a cumberer of the ground. Remember this--remember it now in the glorious days of youth which never will return, but in which you are sowing seed of which you will reap the fruit until your dying day. Know that as you sow, so will you reap. If you sow to the flesh, you will of the flesh reap corruption; corruption--deterioration, whether of health, of intellect, of character in some shape or other. You know not, and no man knows, what the curse will be like; but the curse will surely come. The thing which is done cannot be undone; and you will find that out before, and not merely after your dying day. Therefore rejoice in your youth, for God has given it to you; but remember, that for it, as for each and all of his gifts, God will bring you into judgment. And when the hour of temptation comes, go back--go back, if you would escape--to what you all were taught at your mother's knee concerning the grace of God; for that alone will keep you safe, or angel, or archangel, or any created being safe, in this life and in all lives to come. SERMON V. FRIENDSHIP; OR, DAVID AND JONATHAN 2 Samuel i. 26. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. Passing the love of woman! That is a hard saying. What love can pass that? Yet David doubtless spoke truth. He was a man who must have had reason enough to know what woman's love was like; and when he said that the love of Jonathan for him passed even that, he bestowed on his friend praise which will be immortal. The name of Jonathan will remain for ever as the perfect pattern of friendship. Let us think a little to-day over his noble character and his tragical history. It will surely do us good. If it does nothing but make us somewhat ashamed of ourselves, that is almost the best thing which can happen to us or to any man. We first hear of Jonathan as doing a very gallant deed. We might expect as much. It is only great-hearted men who can be true friends; mean and cowardly men can never know what friendship means. The Israelites were hidden in thickets, and caves, and pits, for fear of the Philistines, when Jonathan was suddenly inspired to attack a Philistine garrison, under circumstances seemingly desperate. 'And that first slaughter, which Jonathan and his armour-bearer made, was about twenty men, within, as it were, an half-acre of land, which a yoke of oxen might plough.' That is one of those little hints which shews that the story is true, written by a man who knew the place--who had probably been in the great battle of Beth-aven, which followed, and had perhaps ascended the rock where Jonathan had done his valiant deed, and had seen the dead bodies lying as they had fallen before him and his armour-bearer. Then follows the story of David's killing Goliath, and coming back to Saul with the giant's head in his hand, and answering modestly to him, 'I am the son of thy servant Jesse the Bethlehemite.' 'And it came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. 'Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul. 'And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was upon him, and gave it to David, and his garments, even to his sword, and to his bow, and to his girdle.' He loved him as his own soul. And why? Because his soul was like the soul of David; because he was modest, he loved David's modesty; because he was brave, he loved David's courage; because he was virtuous, he loved David's virtue. He saw that David was all that he was himself, and more; and therefore he loved him as his own soul. And therefore I said, that it is only noble and great hearts who can have great friendships; who admire and delight in other men's goodness; who, when they see a great and godlike man, conceive, like Jonathan, such an affection for him that they forget themselves, and think only of him, till they will do anything for him, sacrifice anything for him, as Jonathan did for David. For remember, that Jonathan had cause to hate and envy David rather than love him; and that he would have hated him if there had been any touch of meanness or selfishness in his heart. Gradually he learnt, as all Israel learnt, that Samuel had anointed David to be king, and that he, Jonathan, was in danger of not succeeding after Saul's death. David stood between him and the kingdom. And yet he did not envy David--did not join his father for a moment in plotting his ruin. He would oppose his father, secretly indeed, and respectfully; but still, he would be true to David, though he had to bear insults and threats of death. And mark here one element in Jonathan's great friendship. Jonathan is a pious man, as well as a righteous one. He believes the Lord's messages that he has chosen David to be king, and he submits; seeing that it is just and right, and that David is worthy of the honour, though it be to the hurt of himself and of his children after him. It is the Lord's will; and he, instead of repining against it, must carry it out as far as he is concerned. Yes; those who are most true to their fellow-men are always those who are true to God; for the same spirit of God which makes them fear God makes them also love their neighbour. When David escapes from Saul to Samuel, it is Jonathan who does all he can to save him. The two friends meet secretly in the field. 'And Jonathan said unto David, O Lord God of Israel, when I have sounded my father about to-morrow any time, or the third day, and, behold, if there be good toward David, and I then send not unto thee, and shew it thee; the Lord do so and much more to Jonathan.' Then David and Jonathan agree upon a sign between them, by which David may know Saul's humour without his bow-bearer finding out David. He will shoot three arrows toward the place where David is in hiding; and if he says to his bow-bearer, The arrows are on this side of thee, David is to come; for he is safe. But if he says, The arrows are beyond thee, David must flee for his life, for the Lord has sent him away. Then Jonathan goes in to meat with his father Saul, and excuses David for being absent. 'Then Saul's anger was kindled against Jonathan, and he said unto him, Thou son of the perverse, rebellious woman, do not I know that thou hast chosen the son of Jesse to thine own confusion, and unto the confusion of thy mother? For as long as the son of Jesse liveth upon the ground, thou shalt not be established, nor thy kingdom. Wherefore now send and fetch him unto me, for he shall surely die. And Jonathan answered Saul his father, and said unto him, Wherefore shall he be slain? what hath he done? And Saul cast a javelin at him to smite him; whereby Jonathan knew that it was determined of his father to slay David.' He goes to the field and shoots the arrows, and gives the sign agreed on. He sends his bow-bearer back to the city, and David comes out of his hiding-place in the rock Ezel. 'And as soon as the lad was gone, David arose out of a place toward the south, and fell on his face to the ground, and bowed himself three times; and they kissed one another, and wept one with another, until David exceeded. And Jonathan said to David, Go in peace, forasmuch as we have sworn both of us in the name of the Lord, saying, The Lord be between me and thee, and between my seed and thy seed for ever. And he arose and departed: and Jonathan went into the city.' And so the two friends parted, and saw one another, it seems, but once again, when Jonathan went to David in the forest of Ziph, and 'strengthened his hand in God,' with noble words. After that, Jonathan vanishes from the story of David. We hear only of him that he died fighting by his father's side, upon the downs of Gilboa. The green plot at their top, where the Israelites' last struggle was probably made, can be seen to this day; and there most likely Jonathan fell, and over him David raised his famous lamentation: 'O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!' So ends the beautiful and tragical story of a truly gallant man. Seldom, indeed, will there be seen in the world such perfect friendship between man and man, as that between Jonathan and David. Seldom, indeed, shall we see anyone loving and adoring the very man whom his selfish interest would teach him to hate and to supplant. But still every man may have, and ought to have a friend. Wretched indeed, and probably deservedly wretched, is the man who has none. And every man may learn from this story of Jonathan how to choose his friends. I say, to choose. No one is bound to be at the mercy of anybody and everybody with whom he may come in contact. No one is bound to say, That man lives next door to me, therefore he must be my friend. We are bound not to avoid our neighbours. They are put near us by God in his providence. God intends every one of them, good or bad, to help in educating us, in giving us experience of life and manners. We are to learn from them, live with them in peace and charity, and only avoid them when we find that their company is really doing us harm, and leading us into sin and folly. But a friend--which is a much deeper and more sacred word than neighbour--a friend we have the right and the power to choose; and our wisest plan will be to copy Jonathan, and choose our friends, not for their usefulness, but for their goodness; not for their worth to us, but for their worth in themselves; and to choose, if possible, people superior to ourselves. If we meet a man better than ourselves, more wise than ourselves, more learned, more experienced, more delicate-minded, more high-minded, let us take pains to win his esteem, to gain his confidence, and to win him as a friend, for the sake of his worth. Then in our friendship, as in everything else in the world, we shall find the great law come true, that he that loseth his life shall save it. He who does not think of himself and his own interest will be the very man who will really help himself, and further his own interest the most. For the friend whom we have chosen for his own worth, will be the one who will be worth most to us. The friend whom we have loved and admired for his own sake, will be the one who will do most to raise our character, to teach us, to refine us, to help us in time of doubt and trouble. The higher-minded man our friend is, the higher-minded will he make us. For it is written, 'As iron sharpeneth iron, so a man sharpeneth the face of his friend.' Nothing can be more foolish, or more lowering to our own character, than to choose our friends among those who can only flatter us, and run after us, who look up to us as oracles, and fetch and carry at our bidding, while they do our souls and characters no good, but merely feed our self-conceit, and lower us down to their own level. But it is wise, and ennobling to our own character, to choose our friends among those who are nearer to God than we are, more experienced in life, and more strong and settled in character. Wise it is to have a friend of whom we are at first somewhat afraid; before whom we dare not say or do a foolish thing, whose just anger or contempt would be to us a thing terrible. Better it is that friendship should begin with a little wholesome fear, till time and mutual experience of each other's characters shall have brought about the perfect love which casts out fear. Better to say with David, 'He that telleth lies shall not stay in my sight; I will not know a wicked person. Yea, let the righteous rather smite me friendly and reprove me. All my delight is in the saints that are in the earth, and in such as excel in virtue.' And let no man fancy that by so doing he lowers himself, and puts himself in a mean place. There is no man so strong-minded but what he may find a stronger-minded man than himself to give him counsel; no man is so noble-hearted but what he may find a nobler-hearted man than himself to keep him up to what is true and just and honourable, when he is tempted to play the coward, and be false to God's Spirit within him. No man is so pure-minded but what he may find a purer- minded person than himself to help him in the battle against the world, the flesh, and the devil. My friends, do not think it a mean thing to look up to those who are superior to yourselves. On the contrary, you will find in practice that it is only the meanest hearts, the shallowest and the basest, who feel no admiration, but only envy for those who are better than themselves; who delight in finding fault with them, and blackening their character, and showing that they are not, after all, so much superior to other people; while it is the noblest-hearted, the very men who are most worthy to be admired themselves, who, like Jonathan, feel most the pleasure, the joy, and the strength of reverence; of having some one whom they can look up to and admire; some one in whose company they can forget themselves, their own interest, their own pleasure, their own honour and glory, and cry, Him I must hear; him I must follow; to him I must cling, whatever may betide. Blessed and ennobling is the feeling which gathers round a wise teacher or a great statesman all the most earnest, high-minded, and pious youths of his generation; the feeling which makes soldiers follow the general whom they trust, they know not why or whither, through danger, and hunger, and fatigue, and death itself; the feeling which, in its highest perfection, made the Apostles forsake all and follow Christ, saying, 'Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life'--which made them ready to work and to die for him whom the world called the son of the carpenter, but whom they, through the Spirit of God bearing witness with their own pure and noble spirits, knew to be the Son of the Living God. Ay, a blessed thing it is for any man or woman to have a friend; one human soul whom we can trust utterly; who knows the best and the worst of us, and who loves us, in spite of all our faults; who will speak the honest truth to us, while the world flatters us to our face, and laughs at us behind our back; who will give us counsel and reproof in the day of prosperity and self-conceit; but who, again, will comfort and encourage us in the day of difficulty and sorrow, when the world leaves us alone to fight our own battle as we can. If we have had the good fortune to win such a friend, let us do anything rather than lose him. We must give and forgive; live and let live. If our friend have faults, we must bear with them. We must hope all things, believe all things, endure all things, rather than lose that most precious of all earthly possessions--a trusty friend. And a friend, once won, need never be lost, if we will only be trusty and true ourselves. Friends may part--not merely in body, but in spirit, for a while. In the bustle of business and the accidents of life they may lose sight of each other for years; and more--they may begin to differ in their success in life, in their opinions, in their habits, and there may be, for a time, coldness and estrangement between them; but not for ever, if each will be but trusty and true. For then, according to the beautiful figure of the poet, they will be like two ships who set sail at morning from the same port, and ere nightfall lose sight of each other, and go each on its own course, and at its own pace, for many days, through many storms and seas; and yet meet again, and find themselves lying side by side in the same haven, when their long voyage is past. And if not, my friends; if they never meet; if one shall founder and sink upon the seas, or even change his course, and fly shamefully home again: still, is there not a Friend of friends who cannot change, but is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever? What says the noble hymn:-- 'When gathering clouds around I view, And days are dark and friends are few, On him I lean, who, not in vain, Experienced every human pain: He sees my griefs, allays my fears, And counts and treasures up my tears.' Passing the love of woman was his love, indeed; and of him Jonathan was but such a type, as the light in the dewdrop is the type of the sun in heaven. He himself said--and what he said, that he fulfilled--'Greater love hath no man than this--that a man lay down his life for his friends.' In treachery and desertion; in widowhood and childlessness; in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment, when each soul must stand alone before its God, one Friend remains, and that the best of all. {285} From a charter quoted by Ingulf--and very probably a spurious one. 
13824	----	SER. XXVI. REV. DR. LELAND. SER. XXVII. REV. MR. BALDWIN Vol. 2 No. 7 Dec. 1827. THE NATIONAL PREACHER: OR _ORIGINAL MONTHLY SERMONS_ EDITED BY REV. AUSTIN DICKINSON, NEW YORK. * * * * * POSTAGE--_One Cent and a half_, not over 100 miles; _Two Cents and a half_, any distance over 100. TO THE REVEREND CLERGY:-- The undersigned proposes to commence another Periodical, of original plan and character, provided that adequate pledges of supplies shall be furnished. The Work to bear the following title, or something similar, viz.: =THE AMERICAN PASTOR'S JOURNAL:= OR _Original Sketches of real Characters, Conversations, and striking Facts. Furnished chiefly by Clergymen._ The following imperfect sketch of topics to be embraced, may serve to illustrate the plan:--1. Instances of very early piety.--2. Striking results of Parental faithfulness, or unfaithfulness; of filial respect, or disrespect.--3. Cases of individuals raised from deep obscurity, or wickedness, to eminent usefulness.--4. Remarkable cases of conviction.--5. Cases of great hardness of heart, from resisting convictions.--6. Distinctly marked cases of submission and conversion to God.--7. Cases of awful relapse into sin.--8. Cases of strong temptation and trial.--9. Cases of strong faith and confidence in God.--10. Peculiarly manifest interpositions of Providence, in mercy or judgment.--11. Instances of the wrath of man being made to praise God.--12. Cases illustrative of the influence of piety on the intellectual powers.--13. Instances of extraordinary beneficence or covetousness.--14. Death-bed scenes, of the Christian, the backslider, the infidel, the universalist, the profane man, or the worldling. It is conceived that the very existence of such a Periodical might be the means of leading Clergymen, in their pastoral intercourse, to be more observant of character, more discriminating in their views of human nature, and more disposed to record and rescue from oblivion striking conversations and facts. No species of knowledge can be more interesting or more useful, than that thus drawn from real life;--especially from portions of life most intimately connected with spiritual and eternal realities. If it is all-important that masters in surgery and medicine record, for mutual improvement, and for the benefit of mankind, striking cases which occur in their practice; it cannot, surely, be less important, that those who watch for the life of souls, should preserve similar records. It would seem as though, from the daily intercourse of several thousand Clergymen, such materials, of the character contemplated, might be furnished, as, if well condensed and judiciously arranged in an elegant Periodical, would not fail to be read with intense and general interest. And who can tell, but that God, who is rich in wisdom, may thus employ the simplest means for collecting, condensing, and reflecting rays of sacred truth, in the form of practical results, which may carry conviction and saving instruction to uncounted millions--not merely in our own land, but in more populous countries, where the importance of experimental religion is not appreciated? But, for rendering such a work pre-eminently useful, or even commencing it, there must be union of effort. As it is intended to consist wholly of original matter, and that of a specific character, such as no genius can originate, it is obvious that it cannot be commenced, without being furnished with numerous pledges of supplies. And it will be important to have a considerable number of communications on hand, at the commencement, as well as afterwards, that due regard may be had to order in the arrangement of subjects, and an interesting variety be presented in every Number. It will not be necessary to publish the names of writers, nor of individuals alluded to in communications; though in many cases it may be desirable and expedient. But, in every case, the name of the writer, or some respectable reference for attesting the accuracy of statements, must be furnished to the Editor; as he must be responsible to the public for the correctness of whatever may appear in the work. He will moreover think it his duty to present Contributors a generous compensation. MINISTERS, of different Christian denominations, willing to aid in executing the design, are affectionately requested _to write as soon as practicable_--either furnishing matter for publication, or stating definitely, _when and how much aid may be expected_. If the work is ably supported by the co-operation of Clergymen, the Editor does not hesitate to say, that he will at least circulate thousands and tens of thousands of copies gratuitously, and thus afford Contributors the best of all rewards--the opportunity of doing extensive good. That the blessing of God Almighty may crown the enterprise, is the humble prayer of His servant, AUSTIN DICKINSON. =CONTRIBUTORS.= Upwards of fifty Clergymen, of five Christian denominations, and belonging to sixteen different States, most of whom are well known to the public as Authors, have encouraged the Editor to expect from them Sermons for the Preacher. * * * * * =TO THE ENTERPRISING.= Persons having expressed a disposition to circulate this Work, provided postage could be avoided; we would say to such, that for _ten_ or more Subscribers, _who pay at one time_ in advance, or on first receiving Numbers, a deduction from the price of One Dollar a year may be made, equal to the annual postage. And in such cases money may be forwarded without being post-paid. Experience shows, there is no mode of conveyance safer than the Mail. [_Ordinary Terms, other leaf_.] THE =NATIONAL PREACHER.= Go ... Teach all Nations.... _Matt_. xxviii. 19. VOL. II. NEW-YORK, DECEMBER, 1827. NO. 7. =SERMON XXVI.= By AARON W. LELAND, D.D. CHARLESTON, S. CAROLINA. THE PURE GOSPEL REJECTED BY THE PERISHING. 1 COR. I. 18.--_For the preaching of the cross is, to them that perish, foolishness_. In the Christian revelation, there is an evident purpose of infinite wisdom, that in all the provisions for man's salvation, his moral agency should be left free and uncontrolled. Instead of accommodation to human prejudices, there is ample scope for captious objections. And if additional proof were needed, of the divine origin of the Bible, it would be found in this characteristic. Were it a system agreeable to the narrow views, in unison with the selfish feelings, and gratifying to the depraved taste of human nature, it would more resemble the fabrication of man, than the workmanship of God. But as the current of its doctrines is so entirely opposed to our natural inclinations, as to render a moral renovation indispensable to a perception of the glory of revealed truth; all such ground of skepticism is removed. Thus the obscurities and difficulties of revelation are admirably adapted to exhibit human character, and constitute this state of existence a real probation. For if the light of truth came upon the mind with resistless energy, and the operations of the divine government were clearly disclosed; if the motives and designs of infinite wisdom were fully explained, and the realities of the spiritual world completely laid open to view; one principal aim of this dispensation would be frustrated. On the one hand, there would be no field for the exercise of faith and humble confidence on the part of Christians; and thus a precious test of their submission and obedience would be destroyed. On the other, there could not be a full disclosure of the true feelings of the unrenewed heart. Because, as all would be evident as the noon-day sun, there would remain no choice in the matter of embracing the truth--no means of evincing whether its reception were cordial or compulsory. In this respect; there is displayed a matchless skill, as well as a gracious condescension, in adapting revelation to the actual character and condition of our race. While sufficient light is afforded to guide the sincere inquirer, there is an obscurity to perplex and offend the proud and self-confident. While the truth is accompanied by evidence abundantly satisfactory to every mind open to conviction, enough of mystery remains, to form an impassable barrier to those who are inclined to disbelieve the testimony of God. While to the eye of faith there appears a glorious system of wisdom and mercy, depraved reason and prejudice may discover little else than an assemblage of inconsistencies and absurdities. It is not without design, then, that the great facts of revelation are made liable to misrepresentation; that its essential principles are arrayed against the pride of human wisdom; and that its blessed institutions are so obnoxious to abuse and opposition. Such a constitution of things is evidently intended to furnish a decisive criterion of human character--to exhibit, in striking contrast, the humble votaries of faith, who reverently bow to the authority of Scripture; and the adherents of a haughty, self-confident rationality, who will receive the testimony of God himself, no farther than it accords with their opinions and prejudices--and thus to elicit a fair and full manifestation of every man's real disposition and feelings. Such, uniformly, has been the effect of the Bible, wherever its sacred contents have been made known. To all who have received it with penitence, humility, and confidence, as the infallible word of God, it has proved their pleasure and delight--their fountain of consolation--their guide to peace: while the self-righteous and unbelieving have transformed it into a subject of perplexity and disputation--_a cause of deeper guilt and more aggravated ruin_. The Gospel has appeared transcendently beautiful and glorious to all who have been savingly enlightened by the Holy Spirit--while, to the impenitent and skeptical, it seems obscure, irrational, and incomprehensible. The former rejoice in the scriptures, just as they are, and willingly yield to the obedience of faith: the latter are ever anxious to lower the standard of divine truth to the level of their views of fitness, and to mould its materials into a form suited to their unholy inclinations. On these principles it is easy to perceive the real nature and causes of the insidious warfare, which is maintained, in various forms, against the essential doctrines of the Gospel. It is just an effusion of the malignity of the unsanctified heart. Its prevalence is an exact fulfilment of prophecy; and therefore an irrefragable proof of the truth and divine authority of that system which it is labouring to destroy. The emphatic declaration of the apostle, in the text, strikingly describes the state of feeling which now actually prevails, among many who enjoy all the external privileges of the Christian dispensation--_The preaching of the cross is, to them that perish, foolishness._ In illustration of this passage, it will be attempted, to explain the import of the phrase, _the preaching of the cross_--to enumerate some of the _instances_ and _causes_ of such preaching being accounted _foolishness_--and to describe the _fearful state and prospects_ of those who hold it in such low estimation. The preaching of the cross is a plain and full announcement of all the essential truths of that system which provides pardon and salvation for the lost and guilty. The cross is the symbol of that amazing expedient of infinite wisdom and mercy, by which a treaty of reconciliation is offered to convicted traitors against Jehovah's government. Its exhibition therefore must require a developement of the principles, and a defence of the doctrines, peculiar to this gracious dispensation. The grand fact, which constitutes the very essence and glory of the Gospel, and which it is the leading object of the Christian ministry to announce; is, that He, who took upon himself the form of a servant, and offered up the sacrifice of Calvary, is _God over all, blessed for ever_. This gives to the cross all its glory and efficacy. It is on the supreme Deity of Christ--on the expiation made for sin by the Maker and Sovereign of worlds--that the whole fabric of evangelical truth rests. On any other supposition, the sacrifice of the cross was a very ordinary affair. If the Saviour of sinners be not God--if he be a created being, of whatever grade,--where is the _mystery of Godliness?_--Where those unfathomable depths of divine love, _into which the angels desire to look_? If Christ be only a servant of God, however exalted, what was there, in his appearance on our world, to constitute a new era in heaven, and to fill its inhabitants with astonishment and ecstasy? Did the heavenly host descend in rapture, and cause the mountains of Judea to reecho with their acclamations, because a _dependent creature_ had _consented_ to do his Maker's will? Whence the ascription of _glory to God in the highest_, and why do the courts above resound with a new song of praise to God for his redeeming mercy, if this redemption was effected by the labours and sufferings of one inferior to the Deity? Was such a dispensation as that of Moses, designed simply to prepare the way for a messenger of God to declare his will, and to seal the testimony with his blood, as many good men have done, both before and since? Why did patriarchs and prophets foretell his coming, and celebrate his praises?--Why did the continual offering of divinely appointed sacrifices, for many centuries, typify his sufferings?--And why did nature shudder, and shroud herself in darkness, at the consummation of those sufferings? All these things are utterly inexplicable, on the supposition that Christ is a created dependent being. But view him as _God manifest in the flesh_--view him as voluntarily laying aside his glory, and descending from the throne of infinite majesty, to assume the nature, and expiate the guilt of a ruined race;--and we are struck with the appropriateness of all the attending circumstances. The splendid ceremonials of the Jewish ritual, and the raptured songs of prophets and of angels were well employed to prepare the way for the visible manifestation of Deity among men. The annunciation of the divine nature of the Redeemer must, therefore, be an essential part of _the preaching of the cross_. Equally indispensable is a decided testimony to that perfect _atonement for sin_, which was made by this great offering. Here is the only foundation of human hope. This was the grand object accomplished by the Saviour's sufferings. Thus was completely solved the mysterious problem, which all created intelligences had deemed inexplicable--how sin could be remitted, without infringing the rights and tarnishing the honour of the divine government--and how the guilty could be rescued from wrath, without a forfeiture of the divine veracity. Never indeed was the divine law so completely vindicated, or the claims of justice so awfully asserted, as when the Lawgiver offered himself as a ransom. And no other possible manifestation of the malignity and atrocity of sin, of the divine abhorrence of all iniquity, and, at the same time, of the exhaustless treasures of redeeming mercy, could equal that which was witnessed on Calvary. As, therefore, Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so is the cross to be held up now, by its heralds, to a perishing world. Its atoning sacrifice is to be proclaimed, and its purchased blessings offered to lost sinners, as their only hope--their only remedy. Another important part of _the preaching of the cross_ consists in a full disclosure of _the entire depravity and helplessness of our fallen nature_. This doctrine lies at the foundation of Christianity. It is from the corruption of our race, the dominion of spiritual death, and the actual sentence of condemnation, that the necessity arises for so _great salvation_. If hope could have been afforded from any other source, if there had been any possibility of the sinner's expiating his own guilt, and restoring himself to the divine favour, the great Sacrifice would never have been offered. But until men are convinced of their apostacy and corruption, they will never be persuaded of the truth and necessity of the great atonement. And until they feel themselves justly condemned, and utterly helpless, they will never come as humble suppliants to a Saviour's feet. The work of the _Holy Spirit, in enlightening and renewing the hearts of sinners_, and thus carrying on to their accomplishment the purposes of divine mercy, forms also an important portion of the message of the Gospel. It is the glorious achievement of the cross, to slay the enmity and subdue the stubbornness of the sinful heart: and the infinite blessing purchased by the Saviour's blood, is the gift of the Holy Spirit, to effectuate that transformation of character, that spiritual regeneration, without which salvation is utterly impossible. The preaching of the cross, therefore, must include an unwavering declaration, that _the working of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost_ are indispensable to salvation. It is moreover essential to a faithful _preaching of the cross_, that _justification by faith in Christ_, should be distinctly declared as the only ground of a sinner's hope. That view of the Gospel which represents it as bestowing upon man a power of fulfilling God's holy law--or as so lowering its demands as to render his imperfect obedience acceptable--is most dishonourable to God, and ruinous to the souls of men. No such provisions are found in the treaty of reconciliation sent from Heaven. So far from abrogating, the Gospel exalts and honours the law. So far from diminishing its strictness, it adds emphasis to its claims, and fully meets its unmitigated requisitions. Most gloriously has Christ vindicated the divine justice, by receiving its avenging sword in his own bosom, as the Substitute, or surety for sinners; and most effectually has he provided for their salvation, by rendering the exercise of pardoning mercy consistent with the principles of the divine government, and by working out for them a perfect righteousness, which may render them just before God. By faith, the penitent sinner receives all these blessings--is rescued from wrath, delivered from the guilt and bondage of sin, and made a child of God, and an heir of eternal life. Thus the triumph of the cross is complete, the pride of human merit is humbled in the dust, and all the glory of the salvation of sinners is rendered to the riches of redeeming mercy. In fine, _the preaching of the cross_ includes a faithful denunciation of _eternal misery_, as the inevitable doom of all who pass from this state of probation, unrenewed by the Spirit of grace, unwashed in the blood of the Lamb. Such are the essential principles of that system of redemption, which engaged the counsels of heaven from eternity; and which was carried into effect, not like the work of creation, by a single word of the Son of God, but by his assuming human nature, enduring a long exile of toil and reproach, and humbling himself unto death, even the death of the cross. With what gratitude, then, ought this Gospel to be received by the guilty, perishing creatures, for whose rescue from perdition it is designed. How should this display of divine compassion melt and captivate the hearts of those, whose sins have been thus expiated, and for whom an offer of free pardon and endless blessedness has been thus dearly purchased. But _be astonished, O heavens, at this_--these tidings of salvation are received by many with chilling indifference--the sufferings of the cross are regarded with unconcern--the treaty of reconciliation, written in atoning blood, is by some contemptuously disregarded--by others repelled with determined opposition. These appalling facts display more of the malignity of sin, its blinding, deadening influence, and more of the rancorous enmity of the carnal heart against God, than all the other enormities which blacken the world's history. All other crimes appear less atrocious than this scorn of a Saviour's love--this _trampling under foot the blood of the covenant_. While no finite mind could have conceived it possible, that Almighty love should be so slighted, yet the Spirit of prophecy announced this impious ingratitude, long before the incarnation. When Isaiah _saw the glory of Christ, and spake of him_, he also saw that he would be _despised and rejected of men_. And by all their hostility to the doctrines of grace, sinners are only verifying the description, which inspiration gave long ago, of their blindness and perverseness. By all their vain reasonings and presumptuous objections, they just corroborate revealed truth, and evince the desperate wickedness of the natural heart. As in the days of the apostles, so in this period of increased light, _the preaching of the cross_ is esteemed _foolishness_. The message of redeeming mercy is often received with utter listlessness--often with an evident disgust--and sometimes with an openly avowed hostility. In the apostolic age, it might be supposed that the resistance, with which the Gospel had to contend, arose from the prejudices of a Heathen or Jewish education, and from a very imperfect knowledge of Christianity. But, at the present period, the undiminished hostility, which is displayed against the pure doctrines of redemption, can be attributed to nothing, but that hatred to the ways of God, which the Scriptures represent as rankling in the natural heart, and for which they contain the only remedy. It requires but a transient view of the religious state, even of enlightened and refined society, to see that to very many, now, _the preaching of the cross is foolishness_. While any temporal interest excites feeling, this theme is listened to with apathy. O, how often are those statements, which fill heaven with ecstasy, rehearsed to vacant, listless hearers! How many weep at fictitious woes, who contemplate the bloody scene of Calvary without a tear! How many hearts glow in admiration of the benevolence or heroism of a fellow worm, while entirely unaffected alike by the sacrifice or the triumph of the Son of God! How often do men express sentiments of the most fervent gratitude towards earthly benefactors, who would be ashamed of uttering one emotion of thanks to Him who _gave himself to die_ for them! And is not this treating the Gospel as _foolishness_? But this heartless unconcern, criminal as it undoubtedly is, in the sight of God, is not so fearfully impious--affords not so appalling a disclosure of depravity, as the absolute disgust and contempt, with which the doctrines of the cross are sometimes received. In almost every community, there are those who utterly despise the whole system--who do not disguise their abhorrence--and who evidently hate the very mention of the subject. How indignant are such at any effort, in private conversation, to urge upon their attention themes connected with the dying love of Christ! How chilling is the effect, when such discourse is attempted, in many circles of refinement and elegance? And what a brand of infamy is affixed to the human character, by the fact, that from most such circles all these topics are absolutely excluded! Let a man confine his conversation to such subjects as engaged the attention of Christ and his apostles--such subjects as now employ the hosts of heaven,--let him be accustomed in company, to bring forward the holy mysteries of redemption,--and by how many would he be shunned like a pestilence? And with what scornful hatred are those churches avoided by many, where nothing is heard but _Jesus Christ and him crucified_? Such are the open, unequivocal expressions of contempt and disgust, with which many treat the doctrines of the cross. Do not _they_ esteem them _foolishness_? But there is a class of the contemners of evangelical truth, characterized by more active zeal and decided measures. Far from the giddy thoughtlessness of those who hardly reflect upon the subject at all, and from the strange inconsistency of such, as profess to respect what they really despise and hate,--these feel and express a deep interest in religious opinions; devote time and attention to theological studies; and, as the result of their investigations, avow their utter disbelief of the peculiar doctrines of the cross; and undertake to demonstrate their falsehood and absurdity. They tell you, they have maturely examined the whole subject--that they have brought to the investigation all the aid that extensive reading and critical research can furnish--that they have carried the lights of science and philosophy into the dark regions of fanaticism--and have become perfectly convinced, that the whole system is an assemblage of the grossest errors. When, however, the array of argument is produced, its force seems to consist in the unwelcome impressions which the pure Gospel itself makes upon their minds. They can see no wisdom or fitness in such an atonement. They see nothing so very terrible in sin, as to require such an expiation. Pardoning mercy, say they, is one of the natural attributes of Deity; and the doctrine of eternal punishment seems to them too horribly inconsistent with divine justice to bear reflection. As for the substitution of the innocent for the guilty, and satisfying the claims of law by the blood of a sinless victim, they are amazed that any rational man can credit such absurd notions. Tell them of the maladies and wounds of the soul, which can only be healed by the Physician of Calvary--they can hardly conceal their contempt. Tell them plainly, as the Bible does, that they are lost, perishing sinners--that the wrath of God is revealed against them--that the avenging sword is uplifted, and that, unless they fly to the cross and embrace it by a living faith, they must sink to perdition--and you will witness the smile of derision or the frown of indignation. They esteem the doctrine of the Trinity as a monument of human credulity and folly. Their feelings are shocked beyond measure, at the incarnation of Deity, in the person of Jesus Christ. The personality and direct influences of the Holy Spirit appear useless and incredible; and the necessity of a change of heart excites their utter scorn. They cannot endure it. Their disgust is inexpressible. Instead, therefore, of these offensive principles, they substitute a system, not modelled from the Bible, but from what they consider reason and propriety. This they adorn with all that is beautiful and attractive to the carnal eye. Before this fair and flattering idol, of their own workmanship, they bow down in delighted homage. This is a religion they can love, for it flatters, exalts, and dignifies human nature! But as for human depravity, and other hated doctrines of the orthodox creed, they want words to express their aversion. The simple account of the matter is, that _the preaching of the cross_, in their estimation, _is foolishness_. Such are the various grades of hostility to the vital principles of the Gospel, from contemptuous indifference, to malignant and rancorous opposition. We now proceed to enumerate some of the causes, of this deplorable state of feeling towards the _truth as it is in Jesus_. The depravity--the unholiness--of human nature, may be considered the grand cause of all the enmity which has appeared against the doctrines of grace. It is true, nevertheless, that the various degrees and forms, in which this enmity is manifested, depend upon the peculiarities of individual character and situation. Destitution of early religious instruction, generally leads to an entire indifference to the whole subject. Persons who are brought up in prayerless, worldly families--whose young minds are not moulded by a pious influence--are usually found very insusceptible of religious impressions. In such hearts the power of ungodliness reigns uncontrolled. Uncultivated and waste, they produce nothing but _thorns and briers_. Nor is it surprising, that this numerous class of the hearers of the Gospel should exhibit an utter disregard and contempt of its authority. _The preaching of the cross is foolishness_ to them, because they do not understand it, and will not take the trouble to examine it. A similar apathy is frequently observed in persons who have been well instructed, when their whole souls have become engrossed in some worldly pursuit. Their heads and hands are so entirely occupied, that serious reflection is absolutely excluded. Contempt of evangelical religion is sure to be exhibited in places where its professors are asleep or dead. In communities where real religion flourishes, where its power is felt, and its votaries are consistent and decided; whatever hatred may rankle in the breasts of opposers, they are not apt to indulge in contemptuous derision. But where formality and worldliness prevail, and no conspicuous standard of Christian character is visible--the hearts of sinners will be manifested. They will, without hesitation, avow, in how low and degrading a light they regard the doctrines of the cross. Their contempt and loathing are wholly irrepressible. In many instances, the pride of rank and intellect is the cause why _the preaching of the cross is_ utterly despised and accounted _foolishness_. The lofty speculations of an aspiring intellect can with difficulty come down to the simplicity of the Gospel. The command, to come to the Saviour's feet with the humility of a little child, fills the proud heart of those _who are wise in their own eyes_, with indignation. They cannot endure doctrines, which level all vain distinctions, and require the noble, the affluent, and the learned, to assume the same station of penitence and contrition, with the lowliest peasant. They cannot consent to lay their honours in the dust, and address themselves only to sovereign mercies. It is beyond endurance, that the messages of grace should come _to them_, as condemned, guilty, and perishing sinners; and that as such they should be invited to the cross. Hence the scornful air, the undissembled disgust, with which so many, in high life, turn their backs upon _the preaching of the cross_. And hence, encouraged by their example, multitudes cluster round the standard of a haughty and malignant opposition to the Gospel. While thus so many regard _the preaching of the cross as foolishness_, and earnestly wish it were utterly false; it is not wonderful, that efforts should be made to prove that it actually is so. Probably some, engaged in this opposition, are perfectly sincere, and actually suppose, as Saul of Tarsus did, that they are _doing God service_, by combating the doctrines of the cross. But whoever obeys the natural dictates of his own heart, and submits himself to the guidance of his own perverted, blinded reason, refusing to supplicate the illuminations of divine grace, will be likely to come under the power of _strong delusion to believe a lie_. One other cause of opposition to the Gospel is found in the absolute contrariety of its requisitions, to the habits of life, which men have contracted, and which they are resolved not to abandon. While _the preaching of the cross_ prescribes, as indispensable to salvation, conditions with which many, who have no doubt of being saved, wholly refuse to comply; and while it declares that eternal perdition will be the result of a course, which they are determined to pursue; it must be the object of their settled detestation. Hence the love of sinful pursuits and gratifications, and an invincible repugnance to a life of devotion, are the true reasons why many esteem _the preaching of the cross foolishness_. It ought, however, to be kept in mind, while these causes are recounted, that the operation of each of them is rendered more efficacious, by the agency of that spirit of darkness, _that worketh in the children of disobedience_. To increase disgust against the plan of redemption, to exasperate the natural enmity of the carnal heart, to give a specious appearance to objections, and to enforce, with seductive arguments, the cause of unbelief, is the untiring employment of the grand foe of God and man. It is indeed the darling achievement of infernal skill, to inflate a poor worm with pride of talent, and fill his heart with hatred to the Gospel, and then persuade him that his hatred arises from its falsehood and absurdity. No event can afford the tempter greater joy, than success in persuading perishing sinners to reject the only possible way of escape from eternal death, and to contemn, as foolishness, that doctrine which is the _wisdom of God and the power of God to salvation to every one that believeth_. It only remains, that we briefly describe the fearful condition and prospects of all to whom _the preaching of the cross is foolishness_. And here we have only to repeat the decision of the Searcher of hearts--the Judge of the quick and dead. His infallible Spirit has, in our text, divulged the tremendous fact, that the indifference, contempt, and disgust, which have now been described, are characteristics of THEM THAT PERISH. This authority, as well as the nature of the case, renders it certain, that all, who indulge such feelings, are _in the gall of bitterness and under the bond of iniquity_--_dead in trespasses and sins_--_treasuring up wrath against the day of wrath_. Nothing short of utter blindness of mind can be insensible to the glory of the Gospel--nothing but entire depravity of heart can render its doctrines offensive--and nothing but the most obdurate impenitency can resist the melting influence of a Saviour's dying love. It is utterly impossible, that a scornful neglect or disregard of the preaching of the cross should exist, without fearful guilt and imminent danger. All those, among the hearers of the gospel, who will finally be children of wrath, are now characterized by such guilt. And all the lost spirits in the world of wo, who once enjoyed the offers of mercy, cherished the same fatal feelings towards the plan of redemption. It was _foolishness_ to them. Many, even in this land of light, seem to be ripening for the same tremendous doom. Whether in the ranks of open opposition, or under the false colours of pretended regard, the deadly symptom is upon them--a settled disgust and aversion to the _preaching of the cross._ Say not, 'It is no matter what a man believes, provided he is sincere.' God has settled this question.--"_Because they received not the love of the truth_, _that they might be saved_; _God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie_; _that they all might be damned, who believed not the truth_, _but had pleasure in unrighteousness_." Is there not then, appalling evidence, that those, who hold such preaching in contempt, occupy very perilous ground, and exhibit fearful tokens of the divine abandonment? And especially might not the angels in heaven tremble for those, who have enjoyed great light and privileges--have witnessed rich displays of divine grace--and have once felt a deep solicitude for their own souls--but who now despise and hate those truths, and that cause, which they were once _almost persuaded_ to embrace? How clearly and terribly, my hearers, does this subject discover the ungodliness of the unrenewed heart. Those feelings of contempt and hostility, towards what is most precious and glorious in the view of God, constitute the summit of human guilt. That feeble worms of the dust should thus dare to sit in judgment on the divine administration, and pronounce that needless which God has declared indispensable, and call that folly which God esteems the highest wisdom, is not merely presumptuous;--it is inexpressibly _impious_. How resistless is the evidence, hence arising, of the necessity of an entire change of heart--an entire change of feeling--to prepare men to dwell with God. No wonder then, that our Lord should declare with such emphasis, _Ye must be born again_, or ye _cannot see the kingdom of God_. I beseech you, fellow sinners, lay these things seriously to heart. Do any of you habitually hear the preaching of the cross with heartless indifference--with a light and trifling temper? Beware, lest your heart become fatally hardened through the deceitfulness of sin. Are any of you conscious of disgust and aversion, produced by such doctrines? O, beware, lest that come upon you which is spoken in the prophets, Behold, ye dispisers, and wonder, and perish: Beware lest you convert the bread of life into the poison of death! Have any of you already attained such a degree of blindness and perversity, as to persuade yourselves that the doctrines of the cross are really irrational and absurd, and that you are doing right in opposing and deriding them? Recollect, I pray you, with whose word you are contending;--whose wisdom you are despising! Let the chaff contend with the tempest, and the stubble with the devouring flame; let the glow-worm despise all the lamps of heaven;--but Oh, let not a worm contend with Omnipotence; let not dim reason reject all the splendours of the Sun of righteousness. _The redemption of the soul is precious_--Its rescue from perdition, and elevation to God's right hand, are objects too momentous, to be sacrificed to the pride of intellect, or to the fashion of a world which passeth away. _Receive_, then, _with meekness the ingrafted word, which is able to save your souls. But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves_. SERMON XXVII. BY ELIHU W. BALDWIN, A.M. NEW-YORK. THE FINAL JUDGMENT. HEBREWS, IX. 29.--_After this the Judgment_. Whilst another year is ending, and time itself, as it respects us, is fast hastening to its close, the question very naturally arises, _What shall come after death_? The voice of inspiration replies, _After this the Judgment_. There is no need of entering upon a laboured proof of the doctrine so plainly declared, _That there will be a day of Judgment for mankind_. It is what seems written by the finger of God himself upon the consciences of men. The impression is nearly universal, with Pagans and Mahomedans, as well as Jews and Christians, that _every one of us shall give account of himself to God_. This impression is strengthened by a view of the very unequal and indiscriminate allotments of the present life. Here the virtuous are often the objects of hatred and relentless persecution. Here the man of ambition and dark intrigue, circumvents and treads down his more honest rivals. Here Providence often afflicts even the most pious; while the licentious, and proud, and oppressive, are, perhaps, suffered to enjoy uninterrupted prosperity. Now we believe, assuredly, that "God is just;" and we infer, that he will so exhibit himself by another and more equal distribution of his favours and frowns. We conclude with the wise man, "that God shall judge both the righteous and the wicked." Conscience and reason, then, unite with revelation, in saying, that "God hath appointed a day, in which he will judge the world in righteousness." No language can be plainer, and no event more reasonably anticipated. With this absolute certainty before us, then, of a judgment for all mankind, it would be unnatural--it would betray awful insensibility to eternal concerns, not to inquire with all seriousness--When will this universal judgment take place? What objects is it designed to accomplish? What connexion will it have with our future and eternal condition? We inquire then, I. _When will the universal Judgment take place?_ The precise time, God has wisely concealed from every intelligent creature. "Of that day and that hour knoweth no man. No; not the angels that are in heaven." But the text speaks of it, in general terms, as that which is to take place _after our death_. Other passages are somewhat more explicit, as to the time. The apostle Peter declares, "The heavens and the earth which now are, by the same word are kept in store, reserved unto fire, against _the day of judgment_, and perdition of ungodly men." According to this account of the judgment, it will occur at the same time with the destruction of the world; "when," as the same apostle declares, "the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth, also, and the works that are therein shall be burnt up." Paul gives a similar account of the _time_, as he comforts the church at Thessalonica, under persecution, with the prospect of the judgment, "when the Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven with his mighty angels, in flaming fire, taking vengeance on them that know not God, and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ." Indeed, if God is to "judge the whole world in righteousness," what other occasion would seem so proper, as when the last of our race have finished their work on the earth, and the world itself is about to be destroyed? Would it not appear most suitable, that the public and final decision of our destiny, should immediately succeed the winding up of this world's drama?--the termination of all earthly allotments? When, if not at that deeply interesting crisis, will all things be ready for the great trial? _The final judgment, then, will take place after our death, and at the end of the world_. We next inquire, II. _What are the objects, which the Judgment is designed to accomplish?_ On this point, it becomes creatures of yesterday to speak with profound humility, and especially to beware of contradicting what is revealed. The objects which Jehovah will accomplish by the universal judgment, are unquestionably vast and momentous, beyond all conception. Yet some of them are obvious to reason, or are plainly revealed. Every person has experienced inconvenience and perplexity from the circumstance, that the real characters of men, in the present life, are but partially disclosed. Much the larger portion of human actions pass unobserved by the world; or the motives which prompt them are concealed. One design of the judgment, then, is to uncover these hidden springs, and lay open every dark retreat of human conduct. We are told, "there is nothing hid which shall not be revealed;" that "God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil;" that he "will both bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels the heart." Another design of the judgment, is publicly to assign to men their proper deserts. This, we have before suggested, is not done on the earth. "All things here come alike to all." "There is one event to the righteous and to the wicked." But the future judgment is characterized, as the day of "revelation of the righteous judgment of God;" "in the which he will judge the world in righteousness;" and will "render to every man according to his deeds." The mystery involved in the prosperity of the wicked, and in the unequal allotments, which have here marked the dispensations of Providence, will then cease for ever; and it will then be seen and felt, that every one is treated according to the strictest principles of wisdom and justice. Another special design of the judgment, is to manifest and gloriously exalt the perfections of Jehovah. Revelation has indeed proclaimed his perfections, in language which need not be misunderstood. But his providence has often interposed a cloud between them and the eyes of men. We do not comprehend the wisdom of present occurrences. We see not the end from the beginning. A complete disclosure of both, will show to the universe the deep counsels of God, and the consistent and benevolent character of all his operations. He will then appear in the greatness of his _power_, and _majesty_--as he summons the dead from their graves, and folds up the earth and the heavens, like a decayed garment, to be laid aside. He will then appear in the glory of his _justice_, his _holiness_, and his _truth_,--while he examines, before his dread tribunal, the risen and assembled millions of our race, and renders to every one according to his works. All his perfections will then be illustriously displayed; for, says the apostle, "He shall come to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired in all them that believe." But this glory of the Divinity is specially to shine forth in the person of the Son. He it was, that "being found in fashion as a man, humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God hath highly exalted him, and given him a name, which is above every name: that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Accordingly, "the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son." It is the _Son_ who will come "in the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory"; whom "every eye shall see;" and who, "in his own glory, and in the glory of the Father, and of the holy angels," shall "judge the world in righteousness." Then will he who humbled himself, and "became obedient unto death," be publicly recognised as "the Mighty God," "by whom, and for whose pleasure, all things are, and were created." Then will "every tongue confess that he is Lord." The conviction will then be universal, "that all men should honour the Son even as they honour the Father." This leads us to inquire, III. _What connexion will the Judgment have with our future and eternal condition?_ Here let us not indulge in vain speculations, but examine simply the word of God. According to the Scriptures, the judgment will result in assigning to men _very different allotments_. It will recognise among them two entirely different and opposite classes of character. One of these classes, which the Bible denominates "the righteous," will be graciously acquitted by the Judge, and publicly treated as his friends. The other, comprising all the impenitent, will be as publicly condemned, and driven from his presence. They "will have judgment without mercy." Such is plainly the account which Christ and the sacred writers have given of the final awards to the righteous and the wicked. We have the account in detail. Says the Saviour himself, "When the Son of Man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory: and before him shall be gathered all nations; and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats; and he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left. Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." "Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." And again; "The hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth; _they that have done good_, unto the resurrection of _life_; and _they that have done evil_, unto the resurrection of _damnation_". Thus broad and fearful is the discrimination which the great day will make between the righteous and the wicked. So entirely different are the awards in reserve for the two different classes of mankind. The difference will be great, as between holiness and sin; between cheerful submission to the will and providence of God, and unyielding rebellion against him; between cordial faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and wilful rejection of the only Saviour; between the splendour and joy of the celestial Paradise, and the gloominess and misery of hell. No wonder, then, that "as Paul reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled." There will, indeed, be fearful reason for "weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth," with those who shall then "see Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, and themselves thrust out." We are not to forget, my hearers, that these different awards of the judgment day will be _irreversible_ and literally _endless_. All admit this conclusion, with respect to the _righteous_. But if the righteous are _finally acquitted_ at the judgment, so are the wicked _finally condemned_. If the righteous are said to enter into "_life eternal_," so are the wicked to "go away into _everlasting punishment_." The Scriptures say not one word of any reprieve from this condemnation, or of any other period of merciful visitation. But they close with the most solemn assurance, that, from that awful day, he that is unjust shall be unjust still; and he that is filthy shall be filthy still; and he that is righteous shall be righteous still; and he that is holy shall be holy still. Other passages, of similar import, might be quoted: but if men will pour contempt on a single declaration of Jehovah--if they will _make God a liar_--they would not be persuaded, though his voice from the heavens were a thousand times repeated. And _because they receive not the love of the truth_, _that they might be saved_, most justly may he _send them strong delusion_, _that they should believe a lie_, and _be damned._ I have thus endeavoured, with much brevity, to give a scriptural view of the final Judgment. On a subject so tremendously awful, I have chosen to present simply God's testimony. A practical inference from the whole is,--that the present life must be regarded as probationary. We are living here as responsible agents, continually adding to the number of actions, for which we must give account to God. How solemnly interesting, then, is this scene of our earthly pilgrimage! How inexpressibly valuable is time! How infinitely precious are the means of grace!--particularly those invitations of mercy, which meet us in the word of God, and address us from the sacred desk. You, my fellow sinners, are the very individuals who must stand at the judgment-seat of Christ. You must mingle in that vast multitude, which the voice of the archangel and the trump of God shall assemble. And when your characters are all laid open, you must pass off to the right hand, or to the left, accordingly as it shall appear, that you have repented, and believed on the Son of God, or have neglected this great salvation. And are you diligently preparing for that day? Are you working out your salvation with fear and trembling? Are you _agonizing_ to enter in at the strait gate? Are you escaping for your life? Fellow mortals, your time of preparation may be far more brief than you now think. A few, _very few_ more opportunities for prayer, and reconciliation with God, and your account is sealed up. While you hesitate, the recording angel may be writing your condemnation. In such circumstances, what are worldly honours, or wealth, or all your hopes of enjoyment here? The life, the _eternal life_ of the _soul_, is the _one thing needful_--the _only_ thing really important. You will realize this truth, when the last trumpet is sounding through the universe, and, with increasing agony or ecstasy, millions of ages after the final sentence is pronounced. O, then, consider it _now_. Prepare for that judgment, _now_. To-morrow! where is it? Repent _to-morrow_! You may have far other work to do. God, and conscience, and your immortal interests plead, "_To-day_, if you will hear his voice, harden not your heart." "Behold, _now_ is the accepted time; behold, _now_ is the day of salvation." _Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. 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11713	----	THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS _COMPILED BY_ GRENVILLE KLEISER Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in Public," Etc. With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other Theologians INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D. Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University VOLUME III MASSILLON TO MASON 1908 CONTENTS VOLUME III MASSILLON (1663-1742). The Small Number of the Elect SAURIN (1677-1730). Paul Before Felix and Drusilla EDWARDS (1703-1758). Spiritual Light WESLEY (1703-1791). God's Love to Fallen Man WHITEFIELD (1714-1770). The Method of Grace BLAIR (1718-1800). The Hour and the Event of all Time DWIGHT (1752-1817). The Sovereignty of God ROBERT HALL (1764-1831). Marks of Love to God EVANS (1766-1838). The Fall and Recovery of Man SCHLEIERMACHER (1768-1834). Christ's Resurrection an Image of our New Life MASON (1770-1829). Messiah's Throne MASSILLON THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE ELECT BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Jean Baptiste Massillon was born in 1663, at Hyères, in Provence, France. He first attracted notice as a pulpit orator by his funeral sermons as the Archbishop of Vienne, which led to his preferment from his class of theology at Meaux to the presidency of the Seminary of Magloire at Paris. His conferences at Paris showed remarkable spiritual insight and knowledge of the human heart. He was a favorite preacher of Louis XIV and Louis XV, and after being appointed bishop of Clermont in 1719 he was also nominated to the French Academy. In 1723 he took final leave of the capital and retired to his see, where he lived beloved by all until his death in 1742. MASSILLON 1662-1742 THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE ELECT _And many lepers were in Israel in the time of Eliseus the prophet; and none of them was cleansed, saving Naaman the Syrian_.--Luke iv., 27. Every day, my brethren, you continue to ask of us, whether the road to heaven is really so difficult, and the number of the saved really so small as we represent? To a question so often proposed, and still oftener resolved, our Savior answers you here, that there were many widows in Israel afflicted with famine; but the widow of Sarepta was alone found worthy the succor of the prophet Elias; that the number of lepers was great in Israel in the time of the prophet Eliseus; and that Naaman was only cured by the man of God. Were I here, my brethren, for the purpose of alarming, rather than instructing you, I had only to recapitulate what in the holy writings we find dreadful with regard to this great truth; and, running over the history of the just, from age to age, show you that, in all times, the number of the saved has been very small. The family of Noah alone saved from the general flood; Abraham chosen from among men to be the sole depositary of the covenant with God; Joshua and Caleb the only two of six hundred thousand Hebrews who saw the Land of Promise; Job the only upright man in the land of Uz; Lot, in Sodom. To representations so alarming, would have succeeded the sayings of the prophets. In Isaiah you would see the elect as rare as the grapes which are found after the vintage, and have escaped the search of the gatherer; as rare as the blades which remain by chance in the field, and have escaped the scythe of the mower. The evangelist would still have added new traits to the terrors of these images. I might have spoken to you of two roads--of which one is narrow, rugged, and the path of a very small number; the other broad, open, and strewed with flowers, and almost the general path of men: that everywhere, in the holy writings, the multitude is always spoken of as forming the party of the reprobate; while the saved, compared with the rest of mankind, form only a small flock, scarcely perceptible to the sight. I would have left you in fears with regard to your salvation; always cruel to those who have not renounced faith and every hope of being among the saved. But what would it serve to limit the fruits of this instruction to the single point of setting forth how few persons will be saved? Alas! I would make the danger known, without instructing you how to avoid it; I would allow you, with the prophet, the sword of the wrath of God suspended over your heads, without assisting you to escape the threatened blow; I would alarm but not instruct the sinner. My intention is, to-day, to search for the cause of this small number, in our morals and manner of life. As every one flatters himself he will not be excluded, it is of importance to examine if his confidence be well founded. I wish not, in marking to you the causes which render salvation so rare, to make you generally conclude that few will be saved, but to bring you to ask yourselves if, living as you live, you can hope to be saved. Who am I? What am I doing for heaven? And what can be my hopes in eternity? I propose no other order in a matter of such importance. What are the causes which render salvation so rare? I mean to point out three principal causes, which is the only arrangement of this discourse. Art, and far-sought reasonings, would be ill-timed. Oh, attend, therefore, be ye whom ye may. No subject can be more worthy your attention, since it goes to inform you what may be the hopes of your eternal destiny. Few are saved, because in that number we can only comprehend two descriptions of persons: either those who have been so happy as to preserve their innocence pure and undefiled, or those who, after having lost, have regained it by penitence. This is the first cause. There are only these two ways of salvation: heaven is only open to the innocent or to the penitent. Now, of which party are you? Are you innocent? Are you penitent? Nothing unclean shall enter the kingdom of God. We must consequently carry there either an innocence unsullied, or an innocence regained. Now to die innocent is a grace to which few souls can aspire; and to live penitent is a mercy which the relaxed state of our morals renders equally rare. Who, indeed, will pretend to salvation by the chain of innocence? Where are the pure souls in whom sin has never dwelt, and who have preserved to the end the sacred treasure of grace confided to them by baptism, and which our Savior will redemand at the awful day of punishment? In those happy days when the whole Church was still but an assembly of saints, it was very uncommon to find an instance of a believer who, after having received the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and acknowledged Jesus Christ in the sacrament which regenerates us, fell back to his former irregularities of life. Ananias and Sapphira were the only prevaricators in the Church of Jerusalem; that of Corinth had only one incestuous sinner. Church penitence was then a remedy almost unknown; and scarcely was there found among these true Israelites one single leper whom they were obliged to drive from the holy altar, and separate from communion with his brethren. But since that time the number of the upright diminishes in proportion, as that of believers increases. It would appear that the world, pretending now to have become almost generally Christian, has; brought with it into the Church its corruptions and its maxims. Alas! we all go astray, almost from the breast of our mothers! The first use which we make of our heart is a crime; our first desires. are passions; and our reason only expands and increases on the wrecks of our innocence. The earth, says a prophet, is infected by the corruption of those who inhabit it: all have violated the laws, changed the ordinances, and broken the alliance which should have endured forever: all commit sin, and scarcely is there one to be found who does the work of the Lord. Injustice, calumny, lying, treachery, adultery, and the blackest crimes have deluged the earth. The brother lays snares for his brother; the father is divided from his children; the husband from his wife: there is no tie which a vile interest does not sever. Good faith and probity are no longer virtues except among the simple people. Animosities are endless; reconciliations are feints, and never is a former enemy regarded as a brother: they tear, they devour each other. Assemblies are no longer but for the purpose of public and general censure. The purest virtue is no longer a protection from the malignity of tongues. Gaming is become either a trade, a fraud, or a fury. Repasts--those innocent ties of society--degenerate into excesses of which we dare not speak. Our age witnesses horrors with which our forefathers were unacquainted. Behold, then, already one path of salvation shut to the generality of men. All have erred. Be ye whom ye may, listen to me now, the time has been when sin reigned over you. Age may perhaps have calmed your passions, but what was your youth? Long and habitual infirmities may perhaps have disgusted you with the world; but what use did you formerly make of the vigor of health? A sudden inspiration of grace may have turned your heart, but do you not most fervently entreat that every moment prior to that inspiration may be effaced from the remembrance of the Lord? But with what am I taking up time? We are all sinners, O my God! and Thou knowest our hearts! What we know of our errors is, perhaps, in Thy sight, the most pardonable; and we all allow that by innocence we have no claim to salvation. There remains, therefore, only one resource, which is penitence. After our shipwreck, say the saints, it is the timely plank which alone can conduct us into port; there is no other means of salvation for us. Be ye whom ye may, prince or subject, high or low, penitence alone can save you. Now permit me to ask where are the penitent? You will find more, says a holy father, who have never fallen, than who, after their fall, have raised themselves by true repentance. This is a terrible saying; but do not let us carry things too far: the truth is sufficiently dreadful without adding new terrors to it by vain declamation. Let us alone examine as to whether the majority of us have a right, through penitence, to salvation. What is a penitent? According to Tertullian, a penitent is a believer who feels every moment his former unhappiness in forsaking and losing his God; one who has his guilt incessantly before his eyes; who finds everywhere the traces and remembrance of it. A penitent is a man instrusted by God with judgment against himself; one who refuses himself the most innocent pleasures because he had formerly indulged in those the most criminal; one who puts up with the most necessary gratification with pain; one who regards his body as an enemy whom it is necessary to conquer--as an unclean vessel which must be purified--as an unfaithful debtor of whom it is proper to exact to the last farthing. A penitent regards himself as a criminal condemned to death, because he is no longer worthy of life. In the loss of riches or health he sees only a withdrawal of favors that he had formerly abused: in the humiliations which happen to him, only the pains of his guilt: in the agonies with which he is racked, only the commencement of those punishments he has justly merited. Such is a penitent. But I again ask you--Where, among us, are penitents of this description? Now look around you. I do not tell you to judge your brethren, but to examine what are the manners and morals of those who surround you. Nor do I speak of those open and avowed sinners who have thrown off even the appearance of virtue. I speak only of those who, like yourselves, live as most live, and whose actions present nothing to the public view particularly shameful or depraved. They are sinners and they admit it: you are not innocent, and you confess it. Now are they penitent? or are you? Age, vocation, more serious employments, may perhaps have checked the sallies of youth. Even the bitterness which the Almighty has made attendant on our passions, the deceits, the treacheries of the world, an injured fortune, with ruined constitution, may have cooled the ardor, and confined the irregular desires of your hearts. Crimes may have disgusted you even with sin itself--for passions gradually extinguish themselves. Time, and the natural inconstancy of the heart will bring these about; yet, nevertheless, tho detached from sin by incapability, you are no nearer your God. According to the world you are become more prudent, more regular, to a greater extent what it calls men of probity, more exact in fulfilling your public or private duties. But you are not penitent. You have ceased your disorders but you have not expiated them. You are not converted: this great stroke, this grand operation on the heart, which regenerates man, has not yet been felt by you. Nevertheless, this situation, so truly dangerous, does not alarm you. Sins which have never been washed away by sincere repentance, and consequently never obliterated from the book of life, appear in your eyes as no longer existing; and you will tranquilly leave this world in a state of impenitence, so much the more dangerous as you will die without being sensible of your danger. What I say here is not merely a rash expression, or an emotion of zeal; nothing is more real, or more exactly true: it is the situation of almost all men, even the wisest and most esteemed of the world. The morality of the younger stages of life is always lax, if not licentious. Age, disgust, and establishment for life, fix the heart and withdraw it from debauchery: but where are those who are converted? Where are those who expiate their crimes by tears of sorrow and true repentance? Where are those who, having begun as sinners, end as penitents? Show me, in your manner of living, the smallest trace of penitence! Are your graspings at wealth and power, your anxieties to attain the favor of the great--and by these means an increase of employments and influence--are these proofs of it? Would you wish to reckon even your crimes as virtues?--that the sufferings of your ambition, pride, and avarice, should discharge you from an obligation which they themselves have imposed? You are penitent to the world, but are you so to Jesus Christ? The infirmities with which God afflicts you, the enemies He raised up against you, the disgraces and losses with which He tries you--do you receive them all as you ought, with humble submission to His will? Or, rather, far from finding in them occasions of penitence, do you not turn them into the objects of new crimes? It is the duty of an innocent soul to receive with submission the chastisements of the Almighty; to discharge with courage the painful duties of the station allotted to him, and to be faithful to the laws of the gospel. But do sinners owe nothing beyond this? And yet they pretend to salvation! Upon what claim? To say that you are innocent before God, your own consciences will witness against you. To endeavor to persuade yourselves that you are penitent, you dare not; and you would condemn yourselves by your own mouths. Upon what then dost thou depend, O man! who thus livest so tranquil? These, my brethren, as I have already told you, are not merely advices and pious arts; they are the most essential of our obligations. But, alas! who fulfils them? Who even knows them? Ah! my brethren, did you know how far the title you bear, of Christian, engages you; could you comprehend the sanctity of your state, the hatred of the world, of yourself, and of everything which is not of God that it enjoys, that gospel life, that constant watching, that guard over the passions, in a word, that conformity with Jesus Christ crucified, which it exacts of you--could you comprehend it, could you remember that you ought to love God with all your heart, and all your strength, so that a single desire that has not connection with Him defiles you--you would appear a monster in your own sight. How! you would exclaim. Duties so holy, and morals so profane! A vigilance so continual, and a life so careless and dissipated! A love of God so pure, so complete, so universal, and a heart the continual prey of a thousand impulses, either foreign or criminal! If thus it is, who, O my God! will be entitled to salvation? Few indeed, I fear, my dear hearers! At least it will not be you (unless a change takes place) nor those who resemble you; it will not be the multitude! Who shall be saved? Those who work out their salvation with fear and trembling; who live in the world without indulging in its vices. Who shall be saved? That Christian woman who, shut up in the circle of her domestic duties, rears up her children in faith and in piety; divides her heart only between her Savior and her husband; is adorned with delicacy and modesty; sits not down in the assemblies of vanity; makes not a law of the ridiculous customs of the world, but regulates those customs by the law of God; and makes virtue appear more amiable by her rank and her example. Who shall be saved? That believer who, in the relaxation of modern times, imitates the manners of the first Christian--whose hands are clean and his heart pure--who is watchful--who hath not lifted up his soul to vanity, but who, in the midst of the dangers of the great world, continually applies himself to purify it; just--who swears not deceitfully against his neighbor, nor is indebted to fraudulent ways for the aggrandizement of his fortune; generous--who with benefits repays the enemy who sought his ruin; sincere--who sacrifices not the truth to a vile interest, and knows not the part of rendering himself agreeable by betraying his conscience; charitable--who makes his house and interest the refuge of his fellow creatures, and himself the consolation of the afflicted; regards his wealth as the property of the poor; humble in affliction--a Christian under injuries, and penitent even in prosperity. Who will merit salvation? You, my dear hearer, if you will follow these examples; for such are the souls to be saved. Now these assuredly do not form the greatest number. While you continue, therefore, to live like the multitude, it is a striking proof that you disregard your salvation. These, my brethren, are truths which should make us tremble! nor are they those vague ones which are told to all men, and which none apply to themselves. Perhaps there is not in this assembly an individual who may not say of himself, "I live like the great number; like those of my rank, age, and situation; I am lost, should I die in this path." Now, can anything be more capable of alarming a soul, in whom some remains of care for his salvation shall exist? It is the multitude, nevertheless, who tremble not. There is only a small number of the just who work out severally their salvation with fear and trembling. All the rest are tranquil. After having lived with the multitude, they flatter themselves they shall be particularized at death. Every one augurs favorably for himself, and vainly imagines that he shall be an exception. On this account it is, my brethren, that I confine myself to you who are now here assembled. I include not the rest of men; but consider you as alone existing on the earth. The idea which fills and terrifies me is this--I figure to myself the present as your last hour, and the end of the world! the heavens opening above your heads--the Savior, in all His glory, about to appear in the midst of His temple--you only assembled here as trembling criminals, to wait His coming, and hear the sentence, either of life eternal, or everlasting death! for it is vain to flatter yourselves that you shall die more innocent than you are at this hour. All those desires of change with which you are amused, will continue to amuse you till death arrives. The experience of all ages proves it. The only difference you have to expect will most likely be only a larger balance against you than what you would have to answer for now; and from what would be your destiny, were you to be judged in this moment, you may almost decide upon what it will be at death. Now, I ask you--and, connecting my own lot with yours, I ask it with dread--were Jesus Christ to appear in this temple, in the midst of this assembly, to judge us, to make the awful separation between the sheep and the goats, do you believe that the most of us would be placed at His right hand? Do you believe that the number would at least be equal? Do you believe that there would even be found ten upright and faithful servants of the Lord, when formerly five cities could not furnish that number? I ask you! You know not! I know it not! Thou alone, O my God, knowest who belong to Thee. But if we know not who belong to Him, at least we know that sinners do not. Now, who are the just and faithful assembled here at present? Titles and dignities avail nothing; you are stript of all these in the presence of your Savior! Who are they? Many sinners who wish not to be converted; many more who wish, but always put it off; many others who are only converted in appearance, and again fall back to their former course; in a word, a great number, who flatter themselves they have no occasion for conversion. This is the party of the reprobate! Ah! my brethren, cut off from this assembly these four classes of sinners, for they will be cut off at the great day! And now stand forth ye righteous:--where are ye? O God, where are Thine elect! What remains as Thy portion! My brethren, our ruin is almost certain! Yet we think not of it! If in this terrible separation, which will one day take place; there should be but one sinner in the assembly on the side of the reprobate, and a voice from heaven should assure us of it, without particularizing him, who of us would not tremble, lest he be the unfortunate and devoted wretch? Who of us would not immediately apply to his conscience, to examine if its crimes merited not this punishment? Who of us, seized with dread, would not demand of our Savior, as did the apostles, crying out, "Lord, is it I?" And should a small respite be allowed to our prayers, who of us would not use every effort, by tears, supplication, and sincere repentance, to avert the misfortune? Are we in our senses, my dear hearers? Perhaps among all who listen to me now, ten righteous ones would not be found. It may be fewer still. What do I perceive, O my God! I dare not, with a fixt eye, regard the depths of Thy judgments and justice! Not more than one, perhaps, would be found among us all! And this danger affects you not, my dear hearer! You persuade yourself that in this great number who shall perish, you will be the happy individual! You, you have less reason, perhaps, than any other to believe it! You, upon whom alone the sentence of death should fall, were only one of all who hear me to suffer! Great God! how little are the terrors of Thy law known to the world? In all ages the just have shuddered with dread in reflecting on the severity and extent of Thy judgments, touching the destinies of men! Alas! what are they laying up in store for the sons of men! But what are we to conclude from these awful truths? That all must despair of salvation? God forbid! The impious alone, to quiet his own feelings in his debaucheries, endeavors to persuade himself that all men shall perish as well as he. This idea ought not to be the fruit of the present discourse. It is intended to undeceive you with regard to the general error, that any one may do whatever is done by others. To convince you that, in order to merit salvation, you must distinguish yourself from the rest; that in the midst of the world you are to live for God's glory, and not follow after the multitude. When the Jews were led in captivity from Judea to Babylon, a little before they quitted their own country, the prophet Jeremiah, whom the Lord had forbidden to leave Jerusalem, spoke thus to them: "Children of Israel, when you shall arrive at Babylon, you will behold the inhabitants of that country, who carry upon their shoulders gods of silver and gold. All the people will prostrate themselves and adore them. But you, far from allowing yourselves, by these examples, to be led to impiety, say to yourselves in secret, It is Thou, O Lord! whom we ought to adore." Let me now finish by addressing to you the same words. At your departure from this temple, you go to enter into another Babylon. You go to see the idols of gold and silver, before which all men prostrate themselves. You go to regain the vain objects of human passions, wealth, glory, and pleasure, which are the gods of this world and which almost all men adore. You will see those abuses which all the world permits, those errors which custom authorizes, and those debaucheries, which an infamous fashion has almost constituted as laws. Then, my dear hearer, if you wish to be of the small number of true Israelites, say, in the secrecy of your heart, "It is Thou alone, O my God! whom we ought to adore. I wish not to have connection with a people which know Thee not; I will have no other law than Thy holy law; the gods which this foolish multitude adore are not gods; they are the work of the hands of men; they will perish with them; Thou alone, O my God! art immortal; and Thou alone deservest to be adored. The customs of Babylon have no connection with the holy laws of Jerusalem. I will continue to worship Thee, with that small number of the children of Abraham which still, in the midst of an infidel nation, composes Thy people; with them I will turn all my desires toward the holy Zion. The singularity of my manners will be regarded as a weakness; but blest weakness, O my God! which will give me strength to resist the torrent of customs, and the seduction of example. Thou wilt be my God in the midst of Babylon, as Thou wilt one day be in Jerusalem above!" Ah! the time of the captivity will at last expire. Thou wilt call to Thy remembrance Abraham and David. Thou wilt deliver Thy people. Thou wilt transport us to the holy city. Then wilt Thou alone reign over Israel, and over the nations which at present know Thee not. All being destroyed, all the empires of the earth, all the monuments of human pride annihilated, and Thou alone remaining eternal, we then shall know that Thou art the Lord of hosts, and the only God to be adored. Behold the fruit which you ought to reap from this discourse! Live apart. Think, without ceasing, that the great number work their own destruction. Regard as nothing all customs of the earth, unless authorized by the law of God, and remember that holy men in all ages have been looked upon as a peculiar people. It is thus that, after distinguishing yourselves from the sinful on earth, you will be gloriously distinguished from them in eternity! SAURIN PAUL BEFORE FELIX AND DRUSILLA BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Jacques Saurin, the famous French Protestant preacher of the seventeenth century, was born at Nismes in 1677. He studied at Geneva and was appointed to the Walloon Church in London in 1701. The scene of his great life work was, however, the Hague, where he settled in 1705. He has been compared with Bossuet, tho he never attained the graceful style and subtilty which characterize the "Eagle of Meaux." The story is told of the famous scholar Le Clerc that he long refused to hear Saurin preach, on the ground that he gave too much attention to mere art. One day he consented to hear him on the condition that he should be permitted to sit behind the pulpit where he could not see his oratorical action. At the close of the sermon he found himself in front of the pulpit, with tears in his eyes. Saurin died in 1730. SAURIN 1677--1730 PAUL BEFORE FELIX AND DRUSILLA _And before certain days, when Felix came with his wife Drusilla, which was a Jewess, he sent for Paul, and heard him concerning the faith of Christ. And as he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled, and answered, Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee_.--Acts xxiv., 24, 25. My brethren, tho the kingdoms of the righteous be not of this world, they present, however, amidst their meanness, marks of dignity and power. They resemble Jesus Christ. He humbled Himself so far as to take the form of a servant, but frequently exercised the rights of a sovereign. From the abyss of humiliation to which He condescended, emanations of the Godhead were seen to proceed. Lord of nature, He commanded the winds and seas. He bade the storm and tempest subside. He restored health to the sick, and life to the dead. He imposed silence on the rabbis; He embarrassed Pilate on the throne; and disposed of Paradise at the moment He Himself was pierced with the nails, and fixt on the cross. Behold the portrait of believers! "They are dead. Their life is hid with Christ in God." (Col. iii., 3.) "If they had hope only in this life, they were of all men most miserable." (I Cor. xv., 19.) Nevertheless, they show I know not what superiority of birth. Their glory is not so concealed but we sometimes perceive its luster! just as the children of a king, when unknown and in a distant province, betray in their conversation and carriage indications of illustrious descent. We might illustrate this truth by numerous instances. Let us attend to that in our text. There we shall discover that association of humility and grandeur, of reproach and glory, which constitutes the condition of the faithful while on earth. Behold St. Paul, a Christian, an apostle, a saint. See him hurried from tribunal to tribunal, from province to province; sometimes before the Romans, sometimes before the Jews, sometimes before the high-priest of the synagog, and sometimes before the procurator of Caesar. See him conducted from Jerusalem to Caesarea, and summoned to appear before Felix. In all these traits, do you not recognize the Christian walking in the narrow way, the way of tribulation, marked by his Master's feet? But consider him nearer still. Examine his discourse, look at his countenance; there you will see a fortitude, a courage, and a dignity which constrain you to acknowledge that there was something really grand in the person of St. Paul. He preached Jesus Christ at the very moment he was persecuted for having preached Him. He preached even when in chains. He did more; he attacked his judge on the throne. He reasoned, he enforced, he thundered. He seemed already to exercise the function of judging the world, which God has reserved for His saints. He made Felix tremble. Felix felt himself borne away by a superior force. Unable to hear St. Paul any longer without appalling fears, he sent him away. "After certain days, when Felix came with his wife Drusilla, he sent for Paul, and heard him concerning the faith in Christ," etc. We find here three considerations which claim our attention: An enlightened preacher, who discovers a very peculiar discernment in the selection of his subject; a conscience appalled and confounded on the recollection of its crimes and of that awful judgment where they must be weighed, a sinner alarmed, but not converted; a sinner who desires to be saved, but delays his conversion: a case, alas! of but too common occurrence. You perceive already, my brethren, the subject of this discourse: first, that St. Paul reasoned before Felix and Drusilla of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come; second, that Felix trembled; third, that he sent the apostle away; three considerations which shall divide this discourse. May it produce on your hearts, on the hearts of Christians, the same effects St. Paul produced on the soul of this heathen; but may it have a happier influence on your lives. Amen. Paul preached before Felix and Drusilla "on righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come." This is the first subject of discussion. Before, however, we proceed further with our remarks, we must first sketch the character of this Felix and this Drusilla, which will serve as a basis to the first proposition. After the scepter was departed from Judah, and the Jewish nation subjugated by Pompey, the Roman emperors governed the country by procurators. Claudius filled the imperial throne while St. Paul was at Caesarea. This emperor had received a servile education from his grandmother Lucia, and from his mother Antonia; and having been brought up in obsequious meanness, evinced, on his elevation to the empire, marks of the inadequate care which had been bestowed on his infancy. He had neither courage nor dignity of mind. He who was raised to sway the Roman scepter, and consequently to govern the civilized world, abandoned his judgment to his freedmen, and gave them a complete ascendency over his mind. Felix was one of those freedmen. "He exercised in Judea the imperial functions with a mercenary soul." Voluptuousness and avarice were the predominant vices of his heart. We have a proof of his avarice immediately after our text, where it is said he sent for Paul,--not to hear him concerning the truth of the gospel which this apostle had preached with so much power; not to inquire whether this religion, against which the Jews raised the standard, was contrary to the interest of the State; but because he hoped to have received money for his liberation. Here is the effect of avarice. Josephus recited an instance of his voluptuousness. It is his marriage with Drusilla. She was a Jewess, as is remarked in our text. King Azizus, her former husband, was a heathen; and in order to gain her affections, he had conformed to the most rigorous ceremonies of Judaism. Felix saw her, and became enamored of her beauty. He conceived for her a violent passion; and in defiance of the sacred ties which had united her to her husband, he resolved to become master of her person. His addresses were received. Drusilla violated her former engagements, and chose rather to contract with Felix an illegitimate marriage than to adhere to the chaste ties which united her to Azizus. Felix the Roman, Felix the procurator of Judea and the favorite of Caesar appeared to her a noble acquisition. It is indeed a truth, we may here observe, that grandeur and fortune are charms which mortals find the greatest difficulty to resist, and against which the purest virtue has need to be armed with all its constancy. Recollect these two characters of Felix and Drusilla. St. Paul, before those two personages, treated concerning "The faith in Christ"; that is, concerning the Christian religion, of which Jesus Christ is the sum and substance, the author and the end: and from the numerous doctrines of Christianity, he selected "righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come." Here is, my brethren, an admirable text; but a text selected with discretion. Fully to comprehend it, recollect the character we have given of Felix. He was covetous, luxurious, and governor of Judea. St. Paul selected three subjects, correspondent to the characteristics. Addressing an avaricious man, he treated of righteousness. Addressing the governor of Judea, one of those persons who think themselves independent and responsible to none but themselves for their conduct, he treated of "judgment to come." But who can here supply the brevity of the historian, and report the whole of what the apostle said to Felix on these important points? It seems to me that I hear him enforcing those important truths he has left us in his works, and placing in the fullest luster those divine maxims interspersed in our Scriptures. "He reasoned of righteousness." There he maintained the right of the widow and the orphan. There he demonstrated that kings and magistrates are established to maintain the rights of the people, and not to indulge their own caprice; that the design of the supreme authority is to make the whole happy by the vigilance of one, and not to gratify one at the expense of all; that it is meanness of mind to oppress the wretched, who have no defense but cries and tears; and that nothing is so unworthy of an enlightened man as that ferocity with which some are inspired by dignity, and which obstructs their respect for human nature, when undisguised by worldly pomp; that nothing is so noble as goodness and grandeur, associated in the same character; that this is the highest felicity; that in some sort it transforms the soul into the image of God; who, from the high abodes of majesty in which He dwells, surrounded with angels and cherubim, deigns to look down on this mean world which we inhabit, and "Leaves not Himself without witness, doing good to all." "He reasoned of temperance." There he would paint the licentious effects of voluptuousness. There he would demonstrate how opposite is this propensity to the spirit of the gospel; which everywhere enjoins retirement, mortification, and self-denial. He would show how it degrades the finest characters who have suffered it to predominate. Intemperance renders the mind incapable of reflection. It debases the courage. It debilitates the mind. It softens the soul. He would demonstrate the meanness of a man called to preside over a great people, who exposes his foibles to public view; not having resolution to conceal, much less to vanquish them. With Drusilla, he would make human motives supply the defects of divine; with Felix, he would make divine motives supply the defects of human. He would make this shameless woman feel that nothing on earth is more odious than a woman destitute of honor, that modesty is an attribute of the sex; that an attachment, uncemented by virtue, can not long subsist; that those who receive illicit favors are the first, according to the fine remark of a sacred historian, to detest the indulgence: "The hatred wherewith 'Ammon, the son of David,' hated his sister, after the gratification of his brutal passion, was greater than the love wherewith he had loved her" (II Sam. xiii., 15). He would make Felix perceive that, however the depravity of the age might seem to tolerate a criminal intercourse with persons of the other sex, with God, who has called us all to equal purity, the crime was not less heinous. "He reasoned," in short, "of judgment to come." And here he would magnify his ministry. When our discourses are regarded as connected only with the present period, their force, I grant, is of no avail. We speak for a Master who has left us clothed with infirmities, which discover no illustrious marks of Him by whom we are sent. We have only our voice, only our exhortations, only our entreaties. Nature is not averted at our pleasure. The visitations of Heaven do not descend at our command to punish your indolence and revolts: that power was very limited, even to the apostle. The idea of a future state, the solemnities of a general judgment, supply our weakness, and St. Paul enforced this motive; he proved its reality, he delineated its luster, he displayed its pomp. He resounded in the ears of Felix the noise, the voices, the trumpets. He showed him the small and the great, the rich man and Lazarus, Felix the favorite of Caesar, and Paul the captive of Felix, awakened by that awful voice: "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment." But not to be precipitate in commending the apostle's preaching. Its encomiums will best appear by attending to its effects on the mind of Felix. St. Jerome wished, concerning a preacher of his time, that the tears of his audience might compose the eulogy of his sermons. We shall find in the tears of Felix occasion to applaud the eloquence of our apostle. We shall find that his discourses were thunder and lightning in the congregation, as the Greeks used to say concerning one of their orators. While St. Paul preached, Felix felt I know not what agitations in his mind. The recollection of his past life; the sight of his present sins; Drusilla, the object of his passion and subject of his crime; the courage of St. Paul--all terrified him. His heart burned while that disciple of Jesus Christ expounded the Scriptures. The word of God was quick and powerful. The apostle, armed with the two-edged sword, divided the soul, the joints, and the marrow, carried conviction to the heart. Felix trembled, adds our historian, Felix trembled! The fears of Felix are our second reflection. What a surprizing scene, my brethren, is here presented to your view. The governor trembled, and the captive spoke without dismay. The captive made the governor tremble. The governor shuddered in the presence of the captive. It would not be surprizing, brethren, if we should make an impression on your hearts (and we shall do so, indeed, if our ministry is not, as usual, a sound of empty words); it would not be surprizing if we should make some impression on the hearts of our hearers. This sanctuary, these solemnities, these groans, this silence, these arguments, these efforts,--all aid our ministry, and unite to convince and persuade you. But here is an orator destitute of these extraneous aids: behold him without any ornament but the truth he preached. What do I say? that he was destitute of extraneous aids? See him in a situation quite the reverse,--a captive, loaded with irons, standing before his judge. Yet he made Felix tremble. Felix trembled! Whence proceeded this fear, and this confusion? Nothing is more worthy of your inquiry. Here we must stop for a moment: follow us while we trace this fear to its source. We shall consider the character of Felix under different views; as a heathen, imperfectly acquainted with a future judgment, and the life to come; as a prince, or governor, accustomed to see every one humble at his feet; as an avaricious magistrate, loaded with extortions and crimes; in short, as a voluptuous man, who has never restricted the gratification of his senses. These are so many reasons of Felix's fears. First, we shall consider Felix as a heathen, imperfectly acquainted with a future judgment and the life to come: I say, imperfectly acquainted, and not as wholly ignorant, the heathens having the "work of the law written in their hearts" (Rom. ii., 15). The force of habit had corrupted nature, but had not effaced its laws. They acknowledged a judgment to come, but their notions were confused concerning its nature. Such were the principles of Felix, or rather such were the imperfections of his principles, when he heard this discourse of St. Paul. You may infer his fears from his character. Figure to yourselves a man hearing for the first time the maxims of equity and righteousness inculcated in the gospel. Figure to yourselves a man who heard corrected the immorality of pagan theology; what was doubtful, illustrated; and what was right, enforced. See a man who knew of no other God but the incestuous Jupiter, the lascivious Venus, taught that he must appear before Him, in whose presence the seraphim veil their faces, and the heavens are not clean. Behold a man, whose notions were confused concerning the state of souls after death, apprized that God shall judge the world in righteousness. See a man who saw described the smoke, the fire, the chains of darkness, the outer darkness, the lake of fire and brimstone; and who saw them delineated by one animated by the Spirit of God. What consternation must have been excited by these terrific truths! This we are incapable adequately of comprehending. We must surmount the insensibility acquired by custom. It is but too true that our hearts--instead of being imprest by these truths, in proportion to their discussion--become more obdurate. We hear them without alarm, having so frequently heard them before. But if, like Felix, we had been brought up in the darkness of paganism, and if another Paul had come and opened our eyes, and unveiled those sacred terrors, how exceedingly should we have feared! This was the case with Felix. He perceived the bandage which conceals the sight of futurity drop in a moment. He heard St. Paul, that herald of grace and ambassador to the Gentiles, he heard him reason on temperance and a judgment to come. His soul was amazed; his heart trembled; his knees smote one against another. Amazing effects, my brethren, of conscience! Evident argument of the vanity of those gods whom idolatry adorns after it has given them form! Jupiter and Mercury, it is true, had their altars in the temples of the heathens; but the God of heaven and earth has His tribunal in the heart: and, while idolatry presents its incense to sacrilegious and incestuous deities, the God of heaven and earth reveals His terrors to the conscience, and there loudly condemns both incest and sacrilege. Secondly, consider Felix as a prince; and you will find in this second office a second cause of his fear. When we perceive the great men of the earth devoid of every principle of religion, and even ridiculing those very truths which are the objects of our faith, we feel that faith to waver. They excite a certain suspicion in the mind that our sentiments are only prejudices, which have become rooted in man, brought up in the obscurity of humble life. Here is the apology of religion. The Caligulas, the Neros, those potentates of the universe, have trembled in their turn as well as the meanest of their subjects. This independence of mind, so conspicuous among libertines, is consequently an art,--not of disengaging themselves from prejudices, but of shutting their eyes against the light, and of extinguishing the purest sentiments of the heart. Felix, educated in a court fraught with the maxims of the great instantly ridicules the apostle's preaching. St. Paul, undismayed, attacks him, and finds a conscience concealed in his bosom: the very dignity of Felix is constrained to aid our apostle by adding weight to his ministry. He demolishes the edifice of Felix's pride. He shows that if a great nation was dependent on his pleasure, he himself was dependent on a Sovereign in whose presence the kings of the earth are as nothing. He proves that dignities are so very far from exempting men from the judgment of God that, for this very reason, their account becomes the more weighty, riches being a trust which Heaven has committed to the great: and "where much is given, much is required." He makes him feel this awful truth, that princes are responsible, not only for their own souls, but also for those of their subjects; their good or bad example influencing, for the most part, the people committed to their care. See then Felix in one moment deprived of his tribunal. The judge became a party. He saw himself rich and in need of nothing; and yet he was "blind, and naked, and poor." He heard a voice from the God of the whole earth, saying unto him, "Thou profane and wicked prince, remove the diadem and take off the crown. I will overturn, overturn, overturn it, and it shall be no more" (Ezekiel xxi., 25-27). "Tho thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and tho thou set thy nest among the stars, thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord" (Obadiah, 4). Neither the dignity of governor, nor the favor of Caesar, nor all the glory of empire shall deliver thee out of My hand. Thirdly, I restrict myself, my brethren, as much as possible in order to execute without exceeding my limits the plan I have conceived; and proceed to consider Felix as an avaricious man: to find in this disposition a further cause of his fear. Felix was avaricious, and St. Paul instantly transported him into a world in which avarice shall receive its appropriate and most severe punishment. For you know that the grand test by which we shall be judged is charity. "I was hungry, and ye gave me meat"; and of all the constructions of charity covetousness is the most obstinate and insurmountable. This unhappy propensity renders us insensible of our neighbor's necessities. It magnifies the estimate of our wants; it diminishes the wants of others. It persuades us that we have need of all, that others have need of nothing. Felix began to perceive the iniquity of this passion, and to feel that he was guilty of double idolatry: idolatry, in morality, idolatry in religion; idolatry in having offered incense to gods, who were not the makers of heaven and earth; idolatry in having offered incense to Mammon. For the Scriptures teach, and experience confirms, that "covetousness is idolatry." The covetous man is not a worshiper of the true God. Gold and silver are the divinities he adores. His heart is with his treasure. Here then is the portrait of Felix: a portrait drawn by St. Paul in the presence of Felix, and which reminded this prince of innumerable prohibitions, innumerable frauds, innumerable extortions; of the widow and the orphan he opprest. Here is the cause of Felix's fears. According to an expression of St. James, the "rust of his gold and silver began to witness against him, and to eat his flesh as with fire" (James v., 3). Fourthly, consider Felix as a voluptuous man. Here is the final cause of his fear. Without repeating all we have said on the depravity of this passion, let one remark suffice, that, if the torments of hell are terrible at all, they must especially be so to the voluptuous. The voluptuous man never restricts his sensual gratification; his soul dies on the slightest approach of pain. What a terrific impression must not the thought of judgment make on such a character. Shall I, accustomed to indulgence and pleasure, become a prey to the worm that dieth not and fuel to the fire which is not quenched? Shall I, who avoid pain with so much caution, be condemned to eternal torments? Shall I have neither delicious meats nor voluptuous delights? This body, my idol, which I habituate to so much delicacy, shall it be "cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, whose smoke ascendeth up forever and ever?" And this effeminate habit I have of refining on pleasure, will it render me only the more sensible of my destruction and anguish? Such are the traits of Felix's character; such are the causes of Felix's fear. Happy, if his fear had produced that "godly sorrow, and that repentance unto salvation not to be repented of." Happy if the fear of hell had induced him to avoid its torments. But, ah no! he feared, and yet persisted in the causes of his fear. He trembled, yet said to St. Paul, "Go thy way for this time." This is our last reflection. How preposterous, my brethren, is the sinner! What absurdities does he cherish in his heart! For, in short, had the doctrines St. Paul preached to Felix been the productions of his brain:--had the thought of a future judgment been a chimera, whence proceeded the fears of Felix? Why was he so weak as to admit this panic of terror? If, on the contrary, Paul had truth and argument on his side, why did Felix send him away? Such are the contradictions of the sinner. He wishes; he revolts; he denies; he grants; he trembles; and says, "Go thy way for this time." Speak to him concerning the truths of religion, open hell to his view, and you will see him affected, devout, and appalled: follow him in life, and you will find that these truths have no influence whatever on his conduct. But are we not mistaken concerning Felix? Did not the speech of St. Paul make a deeper impression upon him than we seem to allow? He sent the apostle away, it is true, but it was "for this time" only. And who can censure this delay? The infirmities of human nature require relaxation and repose. Felix could afterward recall him. "Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will send for thee." It pains me, I confess, my brethren, in entering on this head of my discourse, that I should exhibit to you in the person of Felix the portrait of whom? Of wicked men? Alas! of nearly the whole of this assembly; most of whom seem to us living in negligence and vice, running with the children of this world "to the same excess of riot." One would suppose that they had already made their choice, having embraced one or the other of these notions: either that religion is a fantom, or that, all things considered, it is better to endure the torments of hell than to be restricted to the practise of virtue. Oh no! that is not their notion. Ask the worse among them. Ask whether they have renounced their salvation. You will not find an individual who will say that he has renounced it. Ask them again whether they think it attainable by following this way of life. They will answer, No. Ask them afterward how they reconcile things so opposite as their life and their hopes. They will answer that they are resolved to reform, and by and by they will enter on the work. They will say, as Felix said to St. Paul, "Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee." Nothing is less wise than this delay. At a future period I will reform. But who has assured me that at a future period I shall have opportunities of conversion? Who has assured me that God will continue to call me, and that another Paul shall thunder in my ears? I will reform at a future period. But who has told me that God at a future period will accompany His word with the powerful aids of grace? While Paul may plant and Apollos may water, is it not God who gives the increase? How then can I flatter myself that the Holy Spirit will continue to knock at the door of my heart after I shall have so frequently obstructed His admission? I will reform in future. But who has told me that I shall ever desire to be converted? Do not habits become confirmed in proportion as they are indulged? And is not an inveterate evil very difficult to cure? If I can not bear the excision of a slight gangrene, how shall I sustain the operation when the wound is deep? I will reform in future! But who has told me that I shall live to a future period? Does not death advance every moment with gigantic strides? Does he not assail the prince in his palace and the peasant in his cottage? Does he not send before him monitors and messengers: acute pains, which wholly absorb the soul; deliriums, which render reason of no avail; deadly stupors, which benumb the brightest and most piercing geniuses? And what is still more awful, does He not daily come without either warning or messenger? Does He not snatch away this man without allowing him time to be acquainted with the essentials of religion; and that man, without the restitution of riches ill acquired; and the other, before he is reconciled to his enemy? Instead of saying "Go thy way for this time" we should say, Stay for this time. Stay, while the Holy Spirit is knocking at the door of my heart; stay, while my conscience is alarmed; stay, while I yet live; "while it is called to-day." The arguments confounded my conscience: no matter. "Thy hand is heavy upon me": no matter still. Cut, strike, consume; provided it procure my salvation. But, however criminal this delay may be, we seem desirous to excuse it. "Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee." It was Felix's business then which induced him to put off the apostle. Unhappy business! Awful occupation! It seems an enviable situation, my brethren, to be placed at the head of a province; to speak in the language of majesty; to decide on the fortunes of a numerous people; and in all cases to be the ultimate judge. But those situations, so happy and so dazzling in appearance, are in the main dangerous to the conscience. Those innumerable concerns, this noise and bustle, entirely dissipate the soul. While so much engaged on earth, we can not be mindful of heaven. When we have no leisure we say to St. Paul, "Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee." Happy he who, amid the tumult of the most active life, has hours consecrated to reflection, to the examination of his conscience, and to insure the "one thing needful." Or, rather, happy he who, in the repose of the middle classes of society,--places between indigence and affluence, far from the courts of the great, having neither poverty nor riches according to Agur's wish,--can in retirement and quietness see life sweetly glide away, and make salvation, if not the sole, yet his principal, concern. Felix not only preferred his business to his salvation, but he mentions it with evasive disdain. "When I have a convenient season, I will call for thee." "When I have a convenient season!" Might we not thence infer that the truths discust by St. Paul were not of serious importance? Might we not infer that the soul of Felix was created for the government of Judea; and that the grand doctrines of righteousness, temperance, and a judgment to come ought to serve at most but to pass away the time, or merely to engross one's leisure--"when I have a convenient season?" ... Yes, Christians, this is the only moment on which we can reckon. It is, perhaps, the only acceptable time. It is, perhaps, the last day of our visitation. Let us improve a period so precious. Let us no longer say by and by--at another time; but let us say to-day--this moment--even now. Let the pastor say: I have been insipid in my sermons, and remiss in my conduct; having been more solicitous, during the exercise of my ministry, to advance my family than to build up the Lord's house, I will preach hereafter with fervor and zeal. I will be vigilant, sober, rigorous, and disinterested. Let the miser say: I have riches ill acquired. I will purge my house of illicit wealth. I will overturn the altar of Mammon and erect another to the supreme Jehovah. Let the prodigal say: I will extinguish the unhappy fires by which I am consumed and kindle in my bosom the flame of divine love. Ah, unhappy passions, which war against my soul; sordid attachments; irregular propensities; emotions of concupiscence; law in the members,--I will know you no more. I will make with you an eternal divorce, I will from this moment open my heart to the eternal Wisdom, who condescends to ask it. If we are in this happy disposition, if we thus become regenerate, we shall enjoy from this moment foretastes of the glory which God has prepared. From this moment the truths of religion, so far from casting discouragement and terror on the soul, shall heighten its consolation and joy; from this moment heaven shall open to this audience, paradise shall descend into your hearts, and the Holy Spirit shall come and dwell there. He will bring that peace, and those joys, which pass all understanding. EDWARDS SPIRITUAL LIGHT BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Jonathan Edwards, the New England divine and metaphysician, was born at East Windsor, Connecticut, in 1703. He was graduated early from Yale College, where he had given much attention to philosophy, became tutor of his college, and at nineteen began to preach. His voice and manner did not lend themselves readily to pulpit oratory, but his clear, logical, and intense presentation of the truth produced a profound and permanent effect upon his hearers. He wrote what were considered the most important philosophical treatises of his time. His place among the thinkers of the world is high and indisputable. He had many gifts of intellect and imagination, and a uniform gravity that left no doubt as to his deeply earnest nature. He was one of the greatest preachers of his age. His most widely quoted sermon, "Sinners in the Eyes of an Angry God," while powerful and impressive, does not do him justice. It is believed the sermon presented here discloses to greater advantage the tender and saintly side of his character. He died in 1758. EDWARDS 1703-1758 SPIRITUAL LIGHT _And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven._--Matthew xvi., 17. Christ says these words to Peter upon occasion of his professing his faith in Him as the Son of God. Our Lord was inquiring of His disciples, who men said He was; not that He needed to be informed, but only to introduce and give occasion to what follows. They answer, that some said He was John the Baptist, and some Elias, and others Jeremias, or one of the prophets. When they had thus given an account of who others said He was, Christ asks them, who they said He was? Simon Peter, whom we find always zealous and forward, was the first to answer: he readily replied to the question, Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God. Upon this occasion Christ says as He does to him, and of him in the text: in which we may observe, 1. That Peter is pronounced blest on this account. "Blessed art Thou."--"Thou art a happy man, that thou art not ignorant of this, that I am Christ, the Son of the living God. Thou art distinguishingly happy. Others are blinded, and have dark and deluded apprehensions, as you have now given an account, some thinking that I am Elias, and some that I am Jeremias, and some one thing and some another; but none of them thinking right, all of them misled. Happy art thou, that art so distinguished as to know the truth in this matter." 2. The evidence of this his happiness declared; viz., that God, and He only, had revealed it to him. This is an evidence of his being blest. First. As it shows how peculiarly favored he was of God above others: "How highly favored art thou, that others that are wise and great men, the scribes, Pharisees, and rulers, and the nation in general, are left in darkness, to follow their own misguided apprehensions; and that thou shouldst be singled out, as it were, by name, that my heavenly Father should thus set His love on thee, Simon Barjona. This argues thee blest, that thou shouldst thus be the object of God's distinguishing love." Secondly. It evidences his blessedness also, as it intimates that this knowledge is above any that flesh and blood can reveal. "This is such knowledge as my Father which is in heaven only can give: it is too high and excellent to be communicated by such means as other knowledge is. Thou art blest, that thou knowest that which God alone can teach thee." The original of this knowledge is here declared, both negatively and positively. Positively, as God is here declared the author of it. Negatively, as it is declared, that flesh and blood had not revealed it. God is the author of all knowledge and understanding whatsoever. He is the author of the knowledge that is obtained by human learning: He is the author of all moral prudence, and of the knowledge and skill that men have in their secular business. Thus it is said of all in Israel that were wise-hearted, and skilful in embroidering, that God had filled them with the spirit of wisdom. (Exod. xxviii., 3.) God is the author of such knowledge; but yet not so but that flesh and blood reveals it. Mortal men are capable of imparting that knowledge of human arts and sciences, and skill in temporal affairs. God is the author of such knowledge by those means: flesh and blood is made use of by God as the mediate or second cause of it; he conveys it by the power and influence of natural means. But this spiritual knowledge, spoken of in the text, is that God is the author of, and none else: he reveals it, and flesh and blood reveals it not. He imparts this knowledge immediately, not making use of any intermediate natural causes, as he does in other knowledge. What has passed in the preceding discourse naturally occasioned Christ to observe this; because the disciples had been telling how others did not know Him, but were generally mistaken about Him, and divided and confounded in their opinions of Him: but Peter had declared his assured faith, that He was the Son of God. Now it was natural to observe, how it was not flesh and blood that had revealed it to him, but God: for if this knowledge were dependent on natural causes or means, how came it to pass that they, a company of poor fishermen, illiterate men, and persons of low education, attained to the knowledge of the truth; while the scribes and Pharisees, men of vastly higher advantages and greater knowledge and sagacity in other matters, remained in ignorance? This could be owing only to the gracious distinguishing influence and revelation of the Spirit of God. Hence, what I would make the subject of my present discourse from these words, is this doctrine. That there is such a thing as a spiritual and divine light, immediately imparted to the soul by God, of a different nature from any that is obtained by natural means. 1. Those convictions that natural men may have of their sin and misery is not this spiritual and divine light. Men in a natural condition may have convictions of the guilt that lies upon them, and of the anger of God, and their danger of divine vengeance. Such convictions are from light or sensibleness of truth. That some sinners have a greater conviction of their guilt and misery than others, is because some have more light, or more of an apprehension of truth than others. And this light and conviction may be from the Spirit of God; the Spirit convinces men of sin: but yet nature is much more concerned in it than in the communication of that spiritual and divine light that is spoken of in the doctrine; it is from the Spirit of God only as assisting natural principles, and not as infusing any new principles. Common grace differs from special, in that it influences only by assisting of nature; and not by imparting grace, or bestowing anything above nature. The light that is obtained is wholly natural, or of no superior kind to what mere nature attains to, tho more of that kind be obtained than would be obtained if men were left wholly to themselves: or, in other words, common grace only assists the faculties of the soul to do that more fully which they do by nature, as natural conscience or reason will by mere nature, make a man sensible of guilt, and will accuse and condemn him when he has done amiss. Conscience is a principle natural to men; and the work that it doth naturally, or of itself, is to give an apprehension of right and wrong, and to suggest to the mind the relation that there is between right and wrong and a retribution. The Spirit of God, in those convictions which unregenerate men sometimes have, assist conscience to do this work in a further degree than it would do if they were left to themselves: He helps it against those things that tend to stupify it, and obstruct its exercise. But in the renewing and sanctifying work of the Holy Ghost, those things are wrought in the soul that are above nature, and of which there is nothing of the like kind in the soul by nature; and they are caused to exist in the soul habitually, and according to such a stated constitution or law that lays such a foundation of exercises in a continued course, as is called a principal of nature. Not only are remaining principles assisted to do their work more freely and fully, but those principles are restored that were utterly destroyed by the fall; and the mind thenceforward habitually exerts those acts that the dominion of sin has made it as wholly destitute of, as a dead body is of vital acts. The Spirit of God acts in a very different manner in the one case, from what He doth in the other. He may indeed act upon the mind of a natural man, but He acts in the mind of a saint as an indwelling vital principle. He acts upon the mind of an unregenerate person as an extrinsic, occasional agent; for in acting upon them, He doth not unite Himself to them; for notwithstanding all His influences that they may be the subjects of, they are still sensual, having not the Spirit (Jude 19). But He unites Himself with the mind of a saint, takes him for his temple, actuates and influences him as a new supernatural principle of life and action. There is this difference, that the Spirit of God, in acting in the soul of a godly man, exerts and communicates Himself there in his own proper nature. Holiness is the proper nature of the spirit of God. The Holy Spirit operates in the minds of the godly, by uniting Himself to them, and living in them, and exerting His own nature in the exercise of their faculties. The Spirit of God may act upon a creature, and yet not in acting communicate Himself. The Spirit of God may act upon inanimate creatures; as, the Spirit moved upon the face of the waters, in the beginning of the creation; so the Spirit of God may act upon the minds of men many ways, and communicate Himself no more than when He acts upon an inanimate creature. For instance, He may excite thoughts in them, may assist their natural reason and understanding, or may assist other natural principles, and this without any union with the soul, but may act, as it were, as upon an external object. But as He acts in His holy influences and spiritual operations, He acts in a way of peculiar communication of Himself; so that the subject is thence denominated spiritual. This spiritual and divine light does not consist in any impression made upon the imagination. It is no impression upon the mind, as tho one saw anything with the bodily eyes: it is no imagination or idea of an outward light or glory or any beauty of form or countenance, or a visible luster or brightness of any object. The imagination may be strongly imprest with such things; but this is not spiritual light. Indeed, when the mind has a lively discovery of spiritual things, and is greatly affected by the power of divine light, it may, and probably very commonly doth, much affect the imagination; so that impressions of an outward beauty or brightness may accompany those spiritual discoveries. But spiritual light is not that impression upon the imagination, but an exceeding different thing from it. Natural men may have lively impressions on their imaginations; and we can not determine but the devil, who transforms himself into an angel of light, may cause imaginations of an outward beauty, or visible glory, and of sounds and speeches, and other such things; but these are things of a vastly inferior nature to spiritual light. This spiritual light is not the suggesting of any new truths or propositions not contained in the Word of God. This suggesting of new truths or doctrines to the mind, independent of any antecedent revelation of those propositions, either in word or writing, is inspiration; such as the prophets and apostles had, and such as some enthusiasts pretend to. But this spiritual light that I am speaking of is quite a different thing from inspiration; it reveals no new doctrine, it suggests no new proposition to the mind, it teaches no new thing of God, or Christ, or another world, not taught in the Bible, but only gives a due apprehension of those things that are taught in the Word of God. It is not every affecting view that men have of the things of religion that is this spiritual and divine light. Men by mere principles of nature are capable of being affected with things that have a special relation to religion as well as other things. A person by mere nature, for instance, may be liable to be affected with the story of Jesus Christ, and the sufferings He underwent, as well as by any other tragical story; he may be the more affected with it from the interest he conceives mankind to have in it; yea, he may be affected with it without believing it; as well as a man may be affected with what he reads in a romance, or sees acted in a stage play. He may be affected with a lively and eloquent description of many pleasant things that attend the state of the blest in heaven, as well as his imagination be entertained by a romantic description of the pleasantness of fairy-land, or the like. And that common-belief of the truth of the things of religion, that persons may have from education or otherwise, may help forward their affection. We read in Scripture of many that were greatly affected with things of a religious nature, who yet are there presented as wholly graceless, and many of them very ill men. A person therefore may have affecting views of religion, and yet be very destitute of spiritual light. Flesh and blood may be the author of this; one man may give another an affecting view of divine things but common assistance: but God alone can give a spiritual discovery of them. But I proceed to show positively what this spiritual and divine light is. And it may be thus described: a true sense of the divine excellency of the things revealed in the Word of God, and a conviction of the truth and reality of them thence arising. This spiritual light primarily consists in the former of these--viz., a real sense and apprehension of the divine excellency of things revealed in the Word of God. A spiritual and saving conviction of the truth and reality of these things arises from such a sight of their divine excellency and glory; so that this conviction of their truth is an effect and natural consequence of this sight of their divine glory. There is therefore in this spiritual light, 1. A true sense of the divine and superlative excellency of the things of religion; a real sense of the excellency of God and Jesus Christ, and of the work of redemption, and the ways and works of God revealed in the gospel. There is a divine and superlative glory in these things; an excellency that is of a vastly higher kind, and more sublime nature than in other things; a glory greatly distinguishing them from all that is earthly and temporal. He that is spiritually enlightened truly apprehends and sees it, or has a sense of it. He does not merely rationally believe that God is glorious, but he has a sense of the gloriousness of God in his heart. There is not only a rational belief that is holy, and that holiness is a good thing, but there is a sense of the loveliness of God's holiness. There is not only a speculative judging that God is gracious, but a sense how amiable God is upon that account, or a sense of the beauty of this divine attribute. There is a twofold understanding or knowledge of good that God has made the mind of man capable of. The first, that which is merely speculative and notional; as when a person only speculatively judges that anything is, which, by the agreement of mankind, is called good or excellent, viz., that which is most to general advantage, and between which and a reward there is a suitableness, and the like. And the other is, that which consists in the sense of the heart: as when there is a sense of the beauty, amiableness, or sweetness of a thing; so that the heart is sensible of pleasure and delight in the presence of the idea of it. In the former is exercised merely the speculative faculty, or the understanding, strictly so called, or as spoken of in distinction from the will or disposition of the soul. In the latter, the will, or inclination, or heart is mainly concerned. Thus there is a difference between having an opinion that God is holy and gracious, and having a sense of the loveliness and beauty of that holiness and grace. There is a difference between having a rational judgment that honey is sweet, and having a sense of its sweetness. A man may have the former that knows not how honey tastes; but a man can not have the latter unless he has an idea of the taste of honey in his mind. So there is a difference between believing that a person is beautiful and having a sense of his beauty. The former may be obtained by hearsay, but the latter only by seeing the countenance. There is a wide difference between mere speculative rational judging anything to be excellent, and having a sense of its sweetness and beauty. The former rests only in the head, speculation only is concerned in it; but the heart is concerned in the latter. When the heart is sensible of the beauty and amiableness of a thing, it necessarily feels pleasure in the apprehension. It is implied in a person's being heartily sensible of the loveliness of a thing, that the idea of it is sweet and pleasant to his soul; which is a far different thing from having a rational opinion that it is excellent. 2. There arises from this sense of divine excellency of things contained in the word of God a conviction of the truth and reality of them; and that either directly or indirectly. First, indirectly, and that two ways. (1) As the prejudices that are in the heart, against the truth of divine things, are hereby removed; so that the mind becomes susceptive of the due force of rational arguments for their truth. The mind of man is naturally full of prejudices against the truth of divine things: it is full of enmity against the doctrines of the gospel; which is a disadvantage to those arguments that prove their truth, and causes them to lose their force upon the mind. But when a person has discovered to him the divine excellency of Christian doctrines, this destroys the enmity, removes those prejudices, and sanctifies the reason, and causes it to lie open to the force of arguments for their truth. Hence was the different effect that Christ's miracles had to convince the disciples from what they had to convince the scribes and Pharisees. Not that they had a stronger reason, or had their reason more improved; but their reason was sanctified, and those blinding prejudices, that the scribes and Pharisees were under, were removed by the sense they had of the excellency of Christ and His doctrine. (2) It not only removes the hindrances of reason, but positively helps reason. It makes even the speculative notions the more lively. It engages the attention of the mind, with the more fixedness and intenseness to that kind of objects; which causes it to have a clearer view of them, and enables it more clearly to see their mutual relations, and occasions it to take more notice of them. The ideas themselves that otherwise are dim and obscure, are by this means imprest with the greater strength, and have a light cast upon them, so that the mind can better judge of them; as he that beholds the objects on the face of the earth, when the light of the sun is cast upon them, is under greater advantage to discern them in their true forms and mutual relations, than he that sees them in a dim starlight or twilight. The mind having a sensibleness of the excellency of divine objects, dwells upon them with delight; and the powers of the soul are more awakened and enlivened to employ themselves in the contemplation of them, and exert themselves more fully and much more to the purpose. The beauty and sweetness of the objects draw on the faculties, and draw forth their exercises; so that reason itself is under far greater advantages for its proper and free exercises, and to attain its proper end, free of darkness and delusion. Secondly. A true sense of the divine excellency of these things is so superlative as more directly and immediately to convince of the truth of them; and that because the excellency of these things is so superlative. There is a beauty in them that is so divine and godlike, that it greatly and evidently distinguishes them from things merely human, or that men are the inventors and authors of; a glory that is so high and great, that when clearly seen, it commands assent to their divinity and reality. When there is an actual and lively discovery of this beauty and excellency, it will not allow of any such thought as that it is a human work, or the fruit of men's invention. This evidence that they who are spiritually enlightened have of the truth of the things of religion, is a kind of intuitive and immediate evidence. They believe the doctrines of God's word to be divine, because they see divinity in them; _i.e._, they see a divine, and transcendent, and most evidently distinguishing glory in them; such a glory as, if clearly seen, does not leave room to doubt of their being of God, and not of men. Such a conviction of the truth of religion as this, arising, these ways, from a sense of the divine excellency of them, is that true spiritual conviction that there is in saving faith. And this original of it, is that by which it is most essentially distinguished from that common assent, which unregenerated men are capable of. I proceed now to show how this light is immediately given by God, and not obtained by natural means. 1. It is not intended that the natural faculties are not made use of in it. The natural faculties are the subject of this light: and they are the subject in such a manner that they are not merely passive, but active in it; the acts and exercises of men's understanding are concerned and made use of in it. God, in letting in this light into the soul, deals with man according to his nature, or as a rational creature; and makes use of his human faculties. But yet this light is not the less immediately from God for that; tho the faculties are made use of, it is as the subject and not as the cause; and that acting of the faculties in it is not the cause, but is either implied in the thing itself (in the light that is imparted) or is the consequence of it; as the use that we make of our eyes in beholding various objects, when the sun arises, is not the cause of the light that discovers those objects to us. 2. It is not intended that outward means have no concern in this affair. As I have observed already, it is not in this affair, as it is in inspiration, where new truths are suggested: for here is by this light only given a due apprehension of the same truths that are revealed in the word of God; and therefore it is not given without the word. The gospel is made use of in this affair: this light is the light of the glorious gospel of Christ. (II Cor. iv., 4.) The gospel is as a glass, by which this light is conveyed to us (I Cor. xiii., 12). Now we see through a glass. 3. When it is said that this light is given immediately by God, and not obtained by natural means, hereby is intended that it is given by God without making use of any means that operate by their own power, or a natural force. God makes use of means; but it is not as mediate causes to produce this effect. There are not truly any second causes of it; but it is produced by God immediately. The Word of God is no proper cause of this effect: it does not operate by any natural force in it. The Word of God is only made use of to convey to the mind the subject matter of this saving instruction, and this indeed it doth convey to us by natural force or influence. It conveys to our minds these and those doctrines; it is the cause of the notion of them in our heads, but not of the sense of the divine excellency of them in our hearts. Indeed, a person can not have spiritual light without the Word. But that does not argue that the Word properly causes the light The mind can not see the excellency of any doctrine unless that doctrine be first in the mind; but the seeing of the excellency of the doctrine may be immediately from the Spirit of God; tho the conveying of the doctrine or proposition itself may be by the Word. So that the notions that are the subject-matter of this light are conveyed to the mind by the Word of God; but that due sense of the heart, wherein this light formally consists, is immediately by the Spirit of God. As for instance, that notion that there is a Christ, and that Christ is holy and gracious, is conveyed to the mind by the Word of God; but the sense of the excellency of Christ by reason of that holiness and grace, is nevertheless immediately the work of the Holy Spirit. This is the most excellent and divine wisdom that any creature is capable of. It is more excellent than any human learning; it is far more excellent than all the knowledge of the greatest philosophers or statesmen. Yea, the least glimpse of the glory of God in the face of Christ doth more exalt and ennoble the soul than all the knowledge of those that have the greatest speculative understanding in divinity without grace. This knowledge has the most noble object that is or can be, viz., the divine glory or excellency of God and Christ. The knowledge of these objects is that wherein consists the most excellent knowledge of the angels, yea, of God himself. This knowledge is that which is above all others sweet and joyful. Men have a great deal of pleasure in human knowledge, in studies of natural things; but this is nothing to that joy which arises from this divine light shining into the soul. This light gives a view of those that are immensely the most exquisitely beautiful, and capable of delighting the eye of the understanding. This spiritual light is the dawning of the light of glory in the heart. There is nothing so powerful as this to support persons in affliction, and to give the mind peace and brightness in this stormy and dark world. This light is such as effectually influences the inclination, and changes the nature of the soul. It assimilates the human nature to the divine nature, and changes the soul into an image of the same glory that is beheld (II Cor. iii., 18), "But we all with open face, beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." This knowledge will wean from the world, and raise the inclination to heavenly things. It will turn the heart to God as the fountain of good, and to choose him for the only portion. This light, and this only, will bring the soul to a saving close with Christ. It conforms the heart to the gospel, mortifies its enmity and opposition against the schemes of salvation therein revealed: it causes the heart to embrace the joyful tidings, and entirely to adhere to, and acquiesce in the revelation of Christ as our Savior: it causes the whole soul to accord and symphonize with it, admitting it with entire credit and respect; cleaving to it with full inclination and affection; and it effectually disposes the soul to give up itself entirely to Christ. This light, and this only, has its fruit in a universal holiness of life. No merely notional or speculative understanding of the doctrines of religion will ever bring us to this. But this light, as it reaches the bottom of the heart, and changes the nature, so it will effectually dispose to a universal obedience. It shows God's worthiness to be obeyed and served. It draws forth the heart in a sincere love to God, which is the only principle of a true, gracious, and universal obedience; and it convinces of the reality of those glorious rewards that God has promised to them that obey him. WESLEY GOD'S LOVE TO FALLEN MAN BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Wesley was born at Epworth rectory in Lincolnshire, England, in 1703. He was educated at Charterhouse school and in 1720 entered Christ Church College, Oxford, where he graduated in 1724. He was noted for his classical taste as well as for his religious fervor, and on being ordained deacon by Bishop Potter, of Oxford, he became his father's curate in 1727. Being recalled to Oxford to fulfil his duties as fellow of Lincoln he became the head of the Oxford "Methodists," as they were called. He had the characteristics of a great general, being systematic in his work and a lover of discipline, and established Methodism in London by his sermons at the Foundery. His speaking style suggested power in repose. His voice was clear and resonant, his countenance kindly, and his tone extremely moderate. His sermons wore carefully written, altho not read in the pulpit. They moved others because he was himself moved. At an advanced age he preached several times a day, and traveled many miles on horseback. At seventy years of age he had published thirty octavo volumes. He composed hymns on horseback, and studied French and mathematics in spare hours, and was never a moment idle until his death, in 1791. WESLEY 1703--1791 GOD'S LOVE TO FALLEN MAN _Not as the transgression, so is the free gift_.--Romans v., 15. How exceedingly common, and how bitter is the outcry against our first parent, for the mischief which he not only brought upon himself, but entailed upon his latest posterity! It was by his wilful rebellion against God "that sin entered into the world." "By one man's disobedience," as the apostle observes, the many, as many as were then in the loins of their forefathers, were made, or constituted sinners: not only deprived of the favor of God, but also of His image; of all virtue, righteousness, and true holiness, and sunk partly into the image of the devil, in pride, malice, and all other diabolical tempers; partly into the image of the brute, being fallen under the dominion of brutal passions and groveling appetites. Hence also death entered into the world, with all his forerunners and attendants; pain, sickness, and a whole train of uneasy as well as unholy passions and tempers. "For all this we may thank Adam," has been echoed down from generation to generation. The self-same charge has been repeated in every age and every nation where the oracles of God are known, in which alone this grand and important event has been discovered to the children of men. Has not your heart, and probably your lips too, joined in the general charge? How few are there of those who believe the Scriptural relation of the Fall of Man, and have not entertained the same thought concerning our first parent? severely condemning him, that, through wilful disobedience to the sole command of his Creator, Brought death into the world and all our wo. Nay, it were well if the charge rested here: but it is certain it does not. It can not be denied that it frequently glances from Adam to his Creator. Have not thousands, even of those that are called Christians, taken the liberty to call His mercy, if not His justice also, into question, on this very account? Some indeed have done this a little more modestly, in an oblique and indirect manner: but others have thrown aside the mask, and asked, "Did not God foresee that Adam would abuse his liberty? And did He not know the baneful consequences which this must naturally have on all his posterity? And why then did He permit that disobedience? Was it not easy for the Almighty to have prevented it?" He certainly did foresee the whole. This can not be denied. "For known unto God are all His works from the beginning of the world." And it was undoubtedly in His Power to prevent it; for He hath all power both in heaven and earth. But it was known to Him at the same time, that it was best upon the whole not to prevent it. He knew that, "not as the transgression, so is the free gift"; that the evil resulting from the former was not as the good resulting from the latter, not worthy to be compared with it. He saw that to permit the fall of the first man was far best for mankind in general; that abundantly more good than evil would accrue to the posterity of Adam by his fall; that if "sin abounded" thereby over all the earth, yet grace "would much more abound"; yea, and that to every individual of the human race, unless it was his own choice. It is exceedingly strange that hardly anything has been written, or at least published, on this subject: nay, that it has been so little weighed or understood by the generality of Christians: especially considering that it is not a matter of mere curiosity, but a truth of the deepest importance; it being impossible, on any other principle, To assert a gracious Providence, And justify the ways of God with men: and considering withal, how plain this important truth is, to all sensible and candid inquirers. May the Lover of men open the eyes of our understanding, to perceive clearly that by the fall of Adam mankind in general have gained a capacity, First, of being more holy and happy on earth, and, Secondly, of being more happy in heaven than otherwise they could have been. And, first, mankind in general have gained by the fall of Adam a capacity of attaining more holiness and happiness on earth than it would have been possible for them to attain if Adam had not fallen. For if Adam had not fallen, Christ had not died. Nothing can be more clear than this: nothing more undeniable: the more thoroughly we consider the point, the more deeply shall we be convinced of it. Unless all the partakers of human nature had received that deadly wound in Adam it would not have been needful for the Son of God to take our nature upon Him. Do you not see that this was the very ground of His coming into the world? "By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin. And thus death passed upon all" through him, "in whom all men sinned." (Rom. v., 12.) Was it not to remedy this very thing that "the Word was made flesh"? that "as in Adam all died, so in Christ all might be made alive"? Unless, then, many had been made sinners by the disobedience of one, by the obedience of one many would not have been made righteous (ver. 18); so there would have been no room for that amazing display of the Son of God's love to mankind. There would have been no occasion for His "being obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." It would not then have been said, to the astonishment of all the hosts of heaven, "God so loved the world," yea, the ungodly world, which had no thought or desire of returning to Him, "that he gave his Son" out of His bosom, His only begotten Son, to the end that "whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Neither could we then have said, "God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself"; or that He "made him to be sin," that is, a sin-offering "for us, who know no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God through him." There would have been no such occasion for such "an advocate with the Father" as "Jesus Christ the Righteous"; neither for His appearing "at the right hand of God, to make intercession for us." What is the necessary consequence of this? It is this: there could then have been no such thing as faith in God, thus loving the world, giving His only Son for us men, and for our salvation. There could have been no such thing as faith in the Son of God, as loving us and giving Himself for us. There could have been no faith in the Spirit of God, as renewing the image of God in our hearts, as raising us from the death of sin unto the life of righteousness. Indeed, the whole privilege of justification by faith could have no existence; there could have been no redemption in the blood of Christ: neither could Christ have been "made of God unto us," "wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, or redemption." And the same grand blank which was in our faith, must likewise have been in our love. We might have loved the Author of our being, the Father of angels and men, as our Creator and Preserver: we might have said, "O Lord our Governor, how excellent is Thy name in all the earth!" But we could not have loved Him under the nearest and dearest relation, as delivering up His Son for us all. We might have loved the Son of God, as being the "brightness of his Father's glory," the express image of His person (altho this ground seems to belong rather to the inhabitants of heaven than earth). But we could not have loved Him as "bearing our sins in his own body on the tree," and "by that one oblation of himself once offered, making a full oblation, sacrifice, and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world." We would not have been "made conformable to his death," nor have known "the power of his resurrection." We could not have loved the Holy Ghost as revealing to us the Father and the Son, as opening the eyes of our understanding, bringing us out of darkness into His marvelous light, renewing the image of God in our soul, and sealing us unto the day of redemption. So that, in truth, what is now "in the sight of God, even the Father," not of fallible men "pure religion and undefiled," would then, have had no being: inasmuch as it wholly depends on those grand principles, "By grace ye are saved through faith"; and "Jesus Christ is of God made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption." We see then what unspeakable advantage we derive from the fall of our first parent, with regard to faith: faith both in God the Father, who spared not His own Son, His only Son, but wounded Him for our transgressions and bruised Him for our iniquities; and in God the Son, who poured out His soul for us transgressors, and washed us in His own blood. We see what advantage we derive therefrom with regard to the love of God, both of God the Father and God the Son. The chief ground of this love, as long as we remain in the body, is plainly declared by the apostle, "We love him, because he first loved us." But the greatest instance of His love had never been given if Adam had not fallen. And as our faith, both in God the Father and the Son, receives an unspeakable increase, if not its very being, from this grand event, as does also our love both of the Father and the Son: so does the love of our neighbor also, our benevolence to all mankind: which can not but increase in the same proportion with our faith and love of God. For who does not apprehend the force of that inference drawn by the loving apostle, "Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another." If God so loved us--observe, the stress of the argument lies on this very point: so loved us! as to deliver up His only Son to die a curst death for our salvation. "Beloved, what manner of love is this," wherewith God hath loved us? So as to give His only Son! In glory equal with the Father: in majesty coeternal! What manner of love is this wherewith the only begotten Son of God hath loved us, as to empty Himself, as far as possible, of His eternal Godhead; as to divest Himself of that glory, which He had with the Father before the world began; as to take upon Him "the form of a servant, being found in fashion as a man"! And then to humble Himself still further, "being obedient unto death, even the death of the cross"! If God so loved us, how ought we to love one another? But this motive to brotherly love had been totally wanting if Adam had not fallen. Consequently we could not then have loved one another in so high a degree as we may now. Nor could there have been that height and depth in the command of our blest Lord. "As I have loved you, so love one another." Such gainers may we be by Adam's fall, with regard both to the love of God and of our neighbor. But there is another grand point, which, tho little adverted to, deserves our deepest consideration. By that one act of our first parent, not only "sin entered into the world," but pain also, and was alike entailed on his whole posterity. And herein appeared, not only the justice, but the unspeakable goodness of God. For how much good does He continually bring out of this evil! How much holiness and happiness out of pain! How innumerable are the benefits which God conveys to the children of men through the channel of sufferings! so that it might well be said, "What are termed afflictions in the language of men, are in the language of God styled blessings." Indeed, had there been no suffering in the world, a considerable part of religion, yea, and in some respects, the most excellent part, could have no place therein: since the very existence of it depends on our suffering: so that had there been no pain it could have had no being. Upon this foundation, even our suffering, it is evident all our passive graces are built; yea, the noblest of all Christian graces, love enduring all things. Here is the ground for resignation to God, enabling us to say from the heart, and in every trying hour, "It is the Lord: let him do what seemeth him good." "Shall we receive good at the hand of the Lord, and shall we not receive evil?" And what a glorious spectacle is this? Did it not constrain even a heathen to cry out, "_Ecce spectaculum Deo dignum!_ See a sight worthy of God: a good man struggling with adversity, and superior to it." Here is the ground for confidence in God, both with regard to what we feel, and with regard to what we should fear, were it not that our soul is calmly stayed on him. What room could there be for trust in God if there was no such thing as pain or danger? Who might not say then, "The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" It is by sufferings that our faith is tried, and, therefore, made more acceptable to God. It is in the day of trouble that we have occasion to say, "Tho he slay me, yet will I trust in him." And this is well pleasing to God, that we should own Him in the face of danger; in defiance of sorrow, sickness, pain, or death. Again: Had there been neither natural nor moral evil in the world, what must have become of patience, meekness, gentleness, long-suffering? It is manifest they could have had no being: seeing all these have evil for their object. If, therefore, evil had never entered into the world, neither could these have had any place in it. For who could have returned good for evil, had there been no evil-doer in the universe? How had it been possible, on that supposition, to overcome evil with good? Will you say, "But all these graces might have been divinely infused into the hearts of men?" Undoubtedly they might: but if they had, there would have been no use or exercise for them. Whereas in the present state of things we can never long want occasion to exercise them. And the more they are exercised, the more all our graces are strengthened and increased. And in the same proportion as our resignation, our confidence in God, our patience and fortitude, our meekness, gentleness, and long-suffering, together with our faith and love of God and man increase, must our happiness increase, even in the present world. Yet again: As God's permission of Adam's fall gave all his posterity a thousand opportunities of suffering, and thereby of exercising all those passive graces which increase both their holiness and happiness, so it gives them opportunities of doing good in numberless instances, of exercising themselves in various good works, which otherwise could have had no being. And what exertions of benevolence, of compassion, of godlike mercy, had then been totally prevented! Who could then have said to the lover of men, Thy mind throughout my life be shown, While listening to the wretches' cry, The widow's or the orphan's groan; On mercy's wings I swiftly fly The poor and needy to relieve; Myself, my all, for them to give? It is the just observation of a benevolent man, --All worldly joys are less, Than that one joy of doing kindnesses. Surely in keeping this commandment, if no other, there is great reward. "As we have time, let us do good unto all men;" good of every kind and in every degree. Accordingly the more good we do (other circumstances being equal), the happier we shall be. The more we deal our bread to the hungry, and cover the naked with garments; the more we relieve the stranger, and visit them that are sick or in prison; the more kind offices we do to those that groan under the various evils of human life; the more comfort we receive even in the present world; the greater the recompense we have in our own bosom. To sum up what has been said under this head: As the more holy we are upon earth, the more happy we must be (seeing there is an inseparable connection between holiness and happiness); as the more good we do to others, the more of present reward rebounds into our own bosom: even as our sufferings for God lead us to rejoice in Him "with joy unspeakable and full of glory"; therefore, the fall of Adam, first, by giving us an opportunity of being far more holy; secondly, by giving us the occasions of doing innumerable good works, which otherwise could not have been done; and, thirdly, by putting it into our power to suffer for God, whereby "the spirit of glory and of God rests upon us": may be of such advantage to the children of men, even in the present life, as they will not thoroughly comprehend till they attain life everlasting. It is then we shall be enabled fully to comprehend not only the advantages which accrue at the present time to the sons of men by the fall of their first parent, but the infinitely greater advantages which they may reap from it in eternity. In order to form some conception of this, we may remember the observation of the apostle, "As one star differeth from another star in glory, so also is the resurrection of the dead." The most glorious stars will undoubtedly be those who are the most holy; who bear most of that image of God wherein they were created. The next in glory to these will be those who have been most abundant in good works: and next to them, those that have suffered most, according to the will of God. But what advantages in every one of these respects will the children of God receive in heaven, by God's permitting the introduction of pain upon earth, in consequence of sin? By occasion of this they attained many holy tempers, which otherwise could have had no being: resignation to God, confidence in him in times of trouble and danger, patience, meekness, gentleness, long-suffering, and the whole train of passive virtues. And on account of this superior holiness they will then enjoy superior happiness. Again: every one will then "receive his own reward, according to his own labor." Every individual will be "rewarded according to his work." But the Fall gave rise to innumerable good works, which could otherwise never have existed, such as ministering to the necessities of the saints, yea, relieving the distrest in every kind. And hereby innumerable stars will be added to their eternal crown. Yet again: there will be an abundant reward in heaven, for suffering as well as for doing, the will of God: "these light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Therefore that event, which occasioned the entrance of suffering into the world, has thereby occasioned to all the children of God, an increase of glory to all eternity. For altho the sufferings themselves will be at an end: altho The pain of life shall then be o'er, The anguish and distracting care; The sighing grief shall weep no more; And sin shall never enter there:-- yet the joys occasioned thereby shall never end, but flow at God's right hand for evermore. There is one advantage more that we reap from Adam's fall, which is not unworthy our attention. Unless in Adam all had died, being in the loins of their first parent, every descendant of Adam, every child of man, must have personally answered for himself to God: it seems to be a necessary consequence of this, that if he had once fallen, once violated any command of God, there would have been no possibility of his rising again; there was no help, but he must have perished without remedy. For that covenant knew not to show mercy: the word was, "The soul that sinneth, it shall die." Now who would not rather be on the footing he is now; under a covenant of mercy? Who would wish to hazard a whole eternity upon one stake? Is it not infinitely more desirable, to be in a state wherein, tho encompassed with infirmities, yet we do not run such a desperate risk, but if we fall, we may rise again? Wherein we may say, My trespass is grown up to heaven! But, far above the skies, In Christ abundantly forgiven, I see Thy mercies rise! In Christ! Let me entreat every serious person, once more to fix his attention here. All that has been said, all that can be said, on these subjects, centers in this point. The fall of Adam produced the death of Christ! Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth! Yea, Let earth and heaven agree, Angels and men be joined, To celebrate with me The Saviour of mankind; To adore the all-atoning Lamb, And bless the sound of Jesus' name! If God had prevented the fall of man, the Word had never been made flesh: nor had we ever "seen his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father." Those mysteries had never been displayed, "which the very angels desire to look into." Methinks this consideration swallows up all the rest, and should never be out of our thoughts. Unless "by one man, judgment had come upon all men to condemnation," neither angels nor men could ever have known "the unsearchable riches of Christ." See then, upon the whole, how little reason we have to repine at the fall of our first parent, since herefrom we may derive such unspeakable advantages, both in time and eternity. See how small pretense there is for questioning the mercy of God in permitting that event to take place, since therein, mercy, by infinite degrees, rejoices over judgment! Where, then, is the man that presumes to blame God for not preventing Adam's sin? Should we not rather bless Him from the ground of the heart, for therein laying the grand scheme of man's redemption, and making way for that glorious manifestation of His wisdom, holiness, justice, and mercy? If indeed God had decreed before the foundation of the world that millions of men should dwell in everlasting burnings, because Adam sinned, hundreds or thousands of yours before they had a being, I know not who could thank him for this, unless the devil and his angels: seeing, on this supposition, all those millions of unhappy spirits would be plunged into hell by Adam's sin, without any possible advantage from it. But, blest be God, this is not the case. Such a decree never existed. On the contrary, every one born of a woman may be an unspeakable gainer thereby; and none ever was or can be a loser, but by his own choice. We see here a full answer to that plausible account "of the origin of evil," published to the world some years since, and supposed to be unanswerable: that it "necessarily resulted from the nature of matter, which God was not able to alter." It is very kind in this sweet-tongued orator to make an excuse for God! But there is really no occasion for it: God hath answered for Himself. He made man in His own image, a spirit endued with understanding and liberty. Man abusing that liberty, produced evil, brought sin and pain into the world. This God permitted, in order to a fuller manifestation of His wisdom, justice, and mercy, by bestowing on all who would receive it an infinitely greater happiness than they could possibly have attained if Adam had not fallen. "Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!" Altho a thousand particulars of His judgments, and of His ways are unsearchable to us, and past our finding out, yet we may discern the general scheme running through time into eternity. "According to the council of his own will," the plan He had laid before the foundation of the world, He created the parent of all mankind in His own image. And He permitted all men to be made sinners by the disobedience of this one man, that, by the obedience of One, all who receive the free gift may be infinitely holier and happier to all eternity! WHITEFIELD THE METHOD OF GRACE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE George Whitefield, evangelist and leader of Calvinistic Methodists, who has been called the Demosthenes of the pulpit, was born at Gloucester, England, in 1714. He was an impassioned pulpit orator of the popular type, and his power over immense congregations was largely due to his histrionic talent and his exquisitely modulated voice, which has been described as "an organ, a flute, a harp, all in one," and which at times became stentorian. He had a most expressive face, and altho he squinted, in grace and significance of gesture he knew perfectly how to "suit the action to the word." But he had not the style or scholarship of Wesley, and his printed sermons do not fully bear out his reputation. Whitefield died in 1770. WHITEFIELD 1714--1770 THE METHOD OF GRACE _They have healed also the hurt of the daughter of my people slightly, saying, Peace, peace, when there is no peace_.--Jeremiah vi., 14. As God can send a nation or people no greater blessing than to give them faithful, sincere, and upright ministers, so the greatest curse that God can possibly send upon a people in this world is to give them over to blind, unregenerate, carnal, lukewarm, and unskilful guides. And yet, in all ages, we find that there have been many wolves in sheep's clothing, many that daubed with untempered mortar, that prophesied smoother things than God did allow. As it was formerly, so it is now; there are many that corrupt the word of God and deal deceitfully with it. It was so in a special manner in the prophet Jeremiah's time; and he, faithful to his Lord, faithful to that God who employed him, did not fail from time to time to open his mouth against them, and to bear a noble testimony to the honor of that God in whose name he from time to time spake. If you will read his prophecy, you will find that none spake more against such ministers than Jeremiah, and here especially in the chapter out of which the text is taken he speaks very severely against them. He charges them with several crimes; particularly he charges them with covetousness: "For," says he, in the thirteenth verse, "from the least of them even to the greatest of them, every one is given to covetousness; and from the prophet even unto the priest, every one dealeth falsely." And then, in the words of the text, in a more special manner he exemplifies how they had dealt falsely, how they had behaved treacherously to poor souls: says he, "They have healed also the hurt of the daughter of my people slightly, saying, Peace, peace, when there is no peace." The prophet, in the name of God, had been denouncing war against the people; he had been telling them that their house should be left desolate, and that the Lord would certainly visit the land with war. "Therefore," says he, in the eleventh verse, "I am full of the fury of the Lord; I am weary with holding in; I will pour it out upon the children abroad, and upon the assembly of young men together; for even the husband with the wife shall be taken, the aged with him that is full of days. And their houses shall be turned unto others, with their fields and wives together; for I will stretch out my hand upon the inhabitants of the land, saith the Lord." The prophet gives a thundering message, that they might be terrified and have some convictions and inclinations to repent; but it seems that the false prophets, the false priests, went about stifling people's convictions, and when they were hurt or a little terrified, they were for daubing over the wound, telling them that Jeremiah was but an enthusiastic preacher, that there could be no such thing as war among them, and saying to people, Peace, peace, be still, when the prophet told them there was no peace. The words, then, refer primarily unto outward things, but I verily believe have also a further reference to the soul, and are to be referred to those false teachers who, when people were under conviction of sin, when people were beginning to look toward heaven, were for stifling their convictions and telling them they were good enough before. And, indeed, people generally love to have it so; our hearts are exceedingly deceitful and desperately wicked; none but the eternal God knows how treacherous they are. How many of us cry, Peace, peace, to our souls, when there is no peace! How many are there who are now settled upon their lees, that now think they are Christians, that now flatter themselves that they have an interest in Jesus Christ; whereas if we come to examine their experiences we shall find that their peace is but a peace of the devil's making--it is not a peace of God's giving--it is not a peace that passeth human understanding. It is a matter, therefore, of great importance, my dear hearers, to know whether we may speak peace to our hearts. We are all desirous of peace; peace is an unspeakable blessing; how can we live without peace? And, therefore, people from time to time must be taught how far they must go and what must be wrought in them before they can speak peace to their hearts. This is what I design at present, that I may deliver my soul, that I may be free from the blood of all those to whom I preach--that I may not fail to declare the whole counsel of God. I shall, from the words of the text, endeavor to show you what you must undergo and what must be wrought in you before you can speak peace to your hearts. But before I come directly to this give me leave to premise a caution or two. And the first is, that I take it for granted you believe religion to be an inward thing; you believe it to be a work of the heart, a work wrought in the soul by the power of the Spirit of God. If you do not believe this, you do not believe your Bibles. If you do not believe this, tho you have got your Bibles in your hand, you hate the Lord Jesus Christ in your heart; for religion is everywhere represented in Scripture as the work of God in the heart. "The kingdom of God is within us," says our Lord; and, "he is not a Christian who is one outwardly; but he is a Christian who is one inwardly." If any of you place religion in outward things, I shall not perhaps please you this morning; you will understand me no more when I speak of the work of God upon a poor sinner's heart than if I were talking in an unknown tongue. I would further premise a caution, that I would by no means confine God to one way of acting. I would by no means say that all persons, before they come to have a settled peace in their hearts, are obliged to undergo the same degrees of conviction. No; God has various ways of bringing His children home; His sacred Spirit bloweth when, and where, and how it listeth. But, however, I will venture to affirm this: that before ever you can speak peace to your heart, whether by shorter or longer continuance of your convictions, whether in a more pungent or in a more; gentle way, you must undergo what I shall hereafter lay down in the following discourse. First, then, before you can speak peace to your hearts, you must be made to see, made to feel, made to weep over, made to bewail, your actual transgressions against the law of God. According to the covenant of works, "the soul that sinneth it shall die"; curst is that man, be he what he may, be he who he may, that continueth not in all things that are written in the book of the law to do them. We are not only to do some things, but we are to do all things, and we are to continue to do so, so that the least deviation from the moral law, according to the covenant of works, whether in thought, word, or deed, deserves eternal death at the hand of God. And if one evil thought, if one evil word, if one evil action deserves eternal damnation, how many hells, my friends, do every one of us deserve whose whole lives have been one continued rebellion against God! Before ever, therefore, you can speak peace to your hearts, you must be brought to see, brought to believe, what a dreadful thing it is to depart from the living God. And now, my dear friends, examine your hearts, for I hope you came hither with a design to have your souls made better. Give me leave to ask you, in the presence of God, whether you know the time, and if you do not know exactly the time, do you know there was a time when God wrote bitter things against you, when the arrows of the Almighty were within you? Was ever the remembrance of your sins grievous to you? Was the burden of your sins intolerable to your thoughts? Did you ever see that God's wrath might justly fall upon you, on account of your actual transgressions against God? Were you ever in all your life sorry for your sins? Could you ever say, My sins are gone over my head as a burden too heavy for me to bear? Did you ever experience any such thing as this? Did ever any such thing as this pass between God and your soul? If not, for Jesus Christ's sake, do not call yourselves Christians; you may speak peace to your hearts, but there is no peace. May the Lord awaken you, may the Lord convert you, may the Lord give you peace, if it be His will, before you go home! But, further, you may be convinced of your actual sins, so as to be made to tremble, and yet you may be strangers to Jesus Christ, you may have no true work of grace upon your hearts. Before ever, therefore, you can speak peace to your hearts, conviction must go deeper; you must not only be convinced of your actual transgressions against the law of God, but likewise of the foundation of all your transgressions. And what is that? I mean original sin, that original corruption each of us brings into the world with us, which renders us liable to God's wrath and damnation. There are many poor souls that think themselves fine reasoners, yet they pretend to say there is no such thing as original sin; they will charge God with injustice in imputing Adam's sin to us; altho we have got the mark of the beast and of the devil upon us, yet they tell us we are not born in sin. Let them look abroad and see the disorders in it, and think, if they can, if this is the paradise in which God did put man. No! everything in the world is out of order. I have often thought, when I was abroad, that if there were no other arguments to prove original sin, the rising of wolves and tigers against man, nay, the barking of a dog against us, is a proof of original sin. Tigers and lions durst not rise against us unless it were as much as to say, "You have sinned against God, and we take up our master's quarrel." If we look inwardly, we shall see enough of lusts and man's temper contrary to the temper of God. There is pride, malice, and revenge in all our hearts; and this temper can not come from God; it comes from our first parent, Adam, who, after he fell from God, fell out of God into the devil. However, therefore, some people may deny this, yet when conviction comes, all carnal reasonings are battered down immediately, and the poor soul begins to feel and see the fountain from which all the polluted streams do flow. When the sinner is first awakened, he begins to wonder, How came I to be so wicked? The Spirit of God then strikes in, and shows that he has no good thing in him by nature; then he sees that he is altogether gone out of the way, that he is altogether become abominable, and the poor creature is made to lie down at the foot of the throne of God and to acknowledge that God would be just to damn him, just to cut him off, tho he never had committed one actual sin in his life. Did you ever feel and experience this, any of you--to justify God in your damnation--to own that you are by nature children of wrath, and that God may justly cut you off, tho you never actually had offended Him in all your life? If you were ever truly convicted, if your hearts were ever truly cut, if self were truly taken out of you, you would be made to see and feel this. And if you have never felt the weight of original sin, do not call yourselves Christians. I am verily persuaded original sin is the greatest burden of a true convert; this ever grieves the regenerate soul, the sanctified soul. The indwelling of sin in the heart is the burden of a converted person; it is the burden of a true Christian. He continually cries out: "Oh! who will deliver me from this body of death, this indwelling corruption in my heart?" This is that which disturbs a poor soul most. And, therefore, if you never felt this inward corruption, if you never saw that God might justly curse you for it, indeed, my dear friends, you may speak peace to your hearts, but I fear, nay, I know, there is no true peace. Further, before you can speak peace to your hearts you must not only be troubled for the sins of your life, the sins of your nature, but likewise for the sins of your best duties and performances. When a poor soul is somewhat awakened by the terrors of the Lord, then the poor creature, being born under the covenant of works, flies directly to a covenant of works again. And as Adam and Eve hid themselves among the trees of the garden and sewed fig-leaves together to cover their nakedness, so the poor sinner when awakened flies to his duties and to his performances, to hide himself from God, and goes to patch up a righteousness of his own. Says he, I will be mighty good now--I will reform--I will do all I can; and then certainly Jesus Christ will have mercy on me. But before you can speak peace to your heart you must be brought to see that God may damn you for the best prayer you ever put up; you must be brought to see that all your duties--all your righteousness--as the prophet elegantly expresses it--put them all together, are so far from recommending you to God, are so far from being any motive and inducement to God to have mercy on your poor soul, that He will see them to be filthy rags, a menstruous cloth--that God hates them, and can not away with them, if you bring them to Him in order to recommend you to His favor. My dear friends, what is there in our performance to recommend us unto God? Our persons are in an unjustified state by nature; we deserve to be damned ten thousand times over; and what must our performance be? We can do no good thing by nature: "They that are in the flesh can not please God." You may do things materially good, but you can not do a thing formally and rightly good; because nature can not act above itself. It is impossible that a man who is unconverted can act for the glory of God; he can not do anything in faith, and "whatsoever is not of faith is sin." After we are renewed, yet we are renewed but in part, indwelling sin continues in us, there is a mixture of corruption in every one of our duties, so that after we are converted, were Jesus Christ only to accept us according to our works, our works would damn us, for we can not put up a prayer but it is far from that perfection which the moral law requireth. I do not know what you may think, but I can say that I can not pray but I sin--I can not preach to you or any others but I sin--I can do nothing without sin; and, as one expresseth it, my repentance wants to be repented of, and my tears to be washed in the precious blood of my dear Redeemer. Our best duties are so many splendid sins. Before you can speak peace to your heart you must not only be sick of your original and actual sin, but you must be made sick of your righteousness, of all your duties and performances. There must be a deep conviction before you can be brought out of your self-righteousness; it is the last idol taken out of our heart. The pride of our heart will not let us submit to the righteousness of Jesus Christ. But if you never felt that you had no righteousness of your own, if you never felt the deficiency of your own righteousness, you can not come to Jesus Christ. There are a great many now who may say, Well, we believe all this; but there is a great difference betwixt talking and feeling. Did you ever feel the want of a dear Redeemer? Did you ever feel the want of Jesus Christ, upon the account of the deficiency of your own righteousness? And can you now say from your heart Lord, thou mayest justly damn me for the best duties that ever I did perform? If you are not thus brought out of self, you may speak peace to yourselves, but yet there is no peace. But then, before you can speak peace to your souls, there is one particular sin you must be greatly troubled for, and yet I fear there are few of you think what it is; it is the reigning, the damning sin of the Christian world, and yet the Christian world seldom or never think of it. And pray what is that? It is what most of you think you are not guilty of--and that is, the sin of unbelief. Before you can speak peace to your heart, you must be troubled for the unbelief of your heart But can it be supposed that any of you are unbelievers here in this churchyard, that are born in Scotland, in a reformed country, that go to church every Sabbath? Can any of you that receive the sacrament once a year--oh, that it were administered oftener!--can it be supposed that you who had tokens for the sacrament, that you who keep up family prayer, that any of you do not believe in the Lord Jesus Christ? I appeal to your own hearts, if you would not think me uncharitable, if I doubted whether any of you believed in Christ: and yet, I fear upon examination, we should find that most of you have not so much faith in the Lord Jesus Christ as the devil himself. I am persuaded that the devil believes more of the Bible than most of us do. He believes the divinity of Jesus Christ; that is more than many who call themselves Christians do; nay, he believes and trembles, and that is more than thousands amongst us do. My friends, we mistake a historical faith for a true faith, wrought in the heart by the Spirit of God. You fancy you believe because you believe there is such a book as we call the Bible--because you go to church; all this you may do and have no true faith in Christ. Merely to believe there was such a person as Christ, merely to believe there is a book called the Bible, will do you no good, more than to believe there was such a man as Caesar or Alexander the Great. The Bible is a sacred depository. What thanks have we to give to God for these lively oracles! But yet we may have these and not believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. My dear friends, there must be a principle wrought in the heart by the Spirit of the living God. Did I ask you how long it is since you believed in Jesus Christ, I suppose most of you would tell me you believed in Jesus Christ as long as ever you remember--you never did misbelieve. Then, you could not give me a better proof that you never yet believed in Jesus Christ, unless you were sanctified early, as from the womb; for they that otherwise believe in Christ know there was a time when they did not believe in Jesus Christ. You say you love God with all your heart, soul, and strength. If I were to ask you how long it is since you loved God, you would say, As long as you can remember; you never hated God, you know no time when there was enmity in your heart against God. Then, unless you were sanctified very early, you never loved God in your life. My dear friends, I am more particular in this, because it is a most deceitful delusion, whereby so many people are carried away, that they believe already. Therefore it is remarked of Mr. Marshall, giving account of his experiences, that he had been working for life, and he had ranged all his sins under the ten commandments, and then, coming to a minister, asked him the reason why he could not get peace. The minister looked to his catalog. "Away," says he, "I do not find one word of the sin of unbelief in all your catalog." It is the peculiar work of the Spirit of God to convince us of our unbelief--that we have got no faith. Says Jesus Christ, "I will send the comforter; and when he is come, he will reprove the world" of the sin of unbelief; "of sin," says Christ, "because they believe not on me." Now, my dear friends, did God ever show you that you had no faith? Were you ever made to bewail a hard heart of unbelief? Was it ever the language of your heart, Lord, give me faith; Lord, enable me to lay hold on Thee; Lord, enable me to call Thee my Lord and my God? Did Jesus Christ ever convince you in this manner? Did he ever convince you of your inability to close with Christ, and make you to cry out to God to give you faith? If not, do not speak peace to your heart. May the Lord awaken you and give you true, solid peace before you go hence and be no more! Once more, then: before you can speak peace to your heart, you must not only be convinced of your actual and original sin, the sins of your own righteousness, the sin of unbelief, but you must be enabled to lay hold upon the perfect righteousness, the all-sufficient righteousness, of the Lord Jesus Christ; you must lay hold by faith on the righteousness of Jesus Christ, and then you shall have peace. "Come," says Jesus, "unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." This speaks encouragement to all that are weary and heavy laden; but the promise of rest is made to them only upon their coming and believing, and taking Him to be their God and their all. Before we can ever have peace with God we must be justified by faith through our Lord Jesus Christ, we must be enabled to apply Christ to our hearts, we must have Christ brought home to our souls, so as His righteousness may be made our righteousness, so as His merits may be imputed to our souls. My dear friends, were you ever married to Jesus Christ? Did Jesus Christ ever give Himself to you? Did you ever close with Christ by a lively faith, so as to feel Christ in your hearts, so as to hear Him speaking peace to your souls? Did peace ever flow in upon your hearts like a river? Did you ever feel that peace that Christ spoke to His disciples? I pray God he may come and speak peace to you. These things you must experience. I am now talking of the invisible realities of another world, of inward religion, of the work of God upon a poor sinner's heart. I am now talking of a matter of great importance, my dear hearers; you are all concerned in it, your souls are concerned in it, your eternal salvation is concerned in it. You may be all at peace, but perhaps the devil has lulled you asleep into a carnal lethargy and security, and will endeavor to keep you there till he gets you to hell, and there you will be awakened; but it will be dreadful to be awakened and find yourselves so fearfully mistaken when the great gulf is fixt, when you will be calling to all eternity for a drop of water to cool your tongue and shall not obtain it. BLAIR THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Hugh Blair, the preacher and divine, was born in Edinburgh, 1718. He entered the university of his native town and graduated in 1739. Two years later he was licensed to preach; he was ordained minister of Colossie, Fife, in 1742, but returned to Edinburgh and in 1762 was made regius professor of rhetoric and belles-lettres to the university. He became a member of the great literary club, the Poker, where he associated with Hume, A. Carlyle, Adam Ferguson, Adam Smith and others, and enjoyed a high reputation as a preacher and critic. The lectures he published on style are elegantly written, but weak in thought, and his sermons share the same fault. They are composed with great care, and sometimes a single discourse cost him a week's labor, but they are formal and destitute of feeling and sometimes even affected in style. Blair was notable for fastidiousness in dress and manners, and took very seriously the reputation he was given for refinement and common-sense as one of the moderate divines. He died in 1800. BLAIR 1718--1800 THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME _Jesus lifted up His eyes to heaven, and said, Father! the hour is come_.--John xvii., 1. These were the words of our blest Lord on a memorable occasion. The feast of the Passover drew nigh, at which He knew that He was to suffer. The night was arrived wherein He was to be delivered into the hands of His enemies. He had spent the evening in conference with His disciples, like a dying father in the midst of his family, mingling consolations with His last instructions. When He had ended His discourse to them, "he lifted up his eyes to heaven," and with the words which I have now read, began that solemn prayer of intercession for the Church, which closed His ministry. Immediately after, He went forth with His disciples into the garden of Gethsemane and surrendered Himself to those who came to apprehend Him. Such was the situation of our Lord at the time of His pronouncing these words. He saw His mission on the point of being accomplished. He had the prospect full before Him of all that He was about to suffer--"Father! the hour is come." What hour? An hour the most critical, the most pregnant with great events, since hours had begun to be numbered, since time had begun to run. It was the hour at which the Son of God was to terminate the labors of His important life by a death still more important and illustrious; the hour of atoning, by His sufferings, for the guilt of mankind; the hour of accomplishing prophecies, types, and symbols, which had been carried on through a series of ages; the hour of concluding the old and of introducing into the world the new dispensation of religion; the hour of His triumphing over the world, and death, and hell; the hour of His creating that spiritual kingdom which is to last forever. Such is the hour. Such are the events which you are to commemorate in the sacrament of our Lord's Supper. I. This was the hour in which Christ was glorified by His sufferings. The whole of His life had discovered much real greatness under a mean appearance. Through the cloud of His humiliation, His native luster often broke forth; but never did it shine so bright as in this last, this trying hour. It was indeed the hour of distress and of blood. He knew it to be such; and when He uttered the words of the text, He had before His eyes the executioner and the cross, the scourge, the nails, and the spear. But by prospects of this nature His soul was not to be overcome. It is distress which ennobles every great character; and distress was to glorify the Son of God. He was now to teach all mankind by His example, how to suffer and to die. He was to stand forth before His enemies as the faithful witness of the truth, justifying by His behavior the character which He assumed, and sealing by His blood the doctrines which He taught. What magnanimity in all His words and actions on this great occasion! The court of Herod, the judgment-hall of Pilate, the hill of Calvary, were so many theaters prepared for His displaying all the virtues of a constant and patient mind. When led forth to suffer, the first voice which we hear from Him is a generous lamentation over the fate of His unfortunate tho guilty country; and to the last moment of His life we behold Him in possession of the same gentle and benevolent spirit. No upbraiding, no complaining expression escaped from His lips during the long and painful approaches of a cruel death. He betrayed no symptom of a weak or a vulgar, of a discomposed or impatient mind. With the utmost attention of filial tenderness He committed His aged mother to the care of His beloved disciple. With all the dignity of a sovereign He conferred pardon on a fellow-sufferer. With a greatness of mind beyond example, He spent His last moments in apologies and prayers for those who were shedding His blood. By wonders in heaven and wonders on earth, was this hour distinguished. All nature seemed to feel it; and the dead and the living bore witness of its importance. The veil of the temple was rent in twain. The earth shook. There was darkness over all the land. The graves were opened, and "many who slept arose, and went into the holy city." Nor were these the only prodigies of this awful hour. The most hardened hearts were subdued and changed. The judge who, in order to gratify the multitude, passed sentence against Him, publicly attested His innocence. The Roman centurion who presided at the execution, "glorified God," and acknowledged the Sufferer to be more than man. "After he saw the things which had passed, he said, Certainly this was a righteous person: truly this was the Son of God." The Jewish malefactor who was crucified with Him addrest Him as a king, and implored His favor. Even the crowd of insensible spectators, who had come forth as to a common spectacle, and who began with clamors and insults, "returned home smiting their breasts." Look back on the heroes, the philosophers, the legislators of old. View them, in their last moments. Recall every circumstance which distinguished their departure from the world. Where can you find such an assemblage of high virtues, and of great events, as concurred at the death of Christ? Where so many testimonials given to the dignity of the dying person by earth and by heaven? II. This was the hour in which Christ atoned for the sins of mankind, and accomplished our eternal redemption. It was the hour when that great sacrifice was offered up, the efficacy of which reaches back to the first transgression of man, and extends forward to the end of time; the hour when, from the cross, as from a high altar, the blood was flowing which washed away the guilt of the nations. This awful dispensation of the Almighty contains mysteries which are beyond the discovery of man. It is one of those things into which "the angels desire to look." What has been revealed to us is, that the death of Christ was the interposition of heaven for preventing the ruin of human kind. We know that under the government of God misery is the natural consequence of guilt. After rational creatures had, by their criminal conduct, introduced disorder into the divine kingdom, there was no ground to believe that by their penitence and prayers alone they could prevent the destruction which threatened them. The prevalence of propitiatory sacrifices throughout the earth proclaims it to be the general sense of mankind that mere repentance was not of sufficient avail to expiate sin or to stop its penal effects. By the constant allusions which are carried on in the New Testament to the sacrifices under the law, as pre-signifying a great atonement made by Christ, and by the strong expressions which are used in describing the effects of His death, the sacred writers show, as plainly as language allows, that there was an efficacy in His sufferings far beyond that of mere example and instruction. The nature and extent of that efficacy we are unable as yet fully to trace. Part we are capable of beholding; and the wisdom of what we behold we have reason to adore. We discern, in this plan of redemption, the evil of sin strongly exhibited and the justice of the divine government awfully exemplified, in Christ suffering for sinners. But let us not imagine that our present discoveries unfold the whole influence of the death of Christ. It is connected with causes into which we can not penetrate. It produces consequences too extensive for us to explore. "God's thoughts are not as our thoughts." In all things we "see only in part"; and here, if anywhere, we see also "as through a glass. darkly." This, however, is fully manifest, that redemption is one of the most glorious works of the Almighty. If the hour of the creation of the world was great and illustrious, that hour when, from the dark and formless mass, this fair system of nature arose at the divine command, when "the morning-stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy," no less illustrious is the hour of the restoration of the world; the hour when, from condemnation and misery, it emerged into happiness and peace. With less external majesty it was attended; but it is, on that account, the more wonderful that, under an appearance so simple, such great events were covered. III. In this hour the long series of prophecies, visions, types, and figures were accomplished. This was the center in which they all met: this the point toward which they had tended and verged, throughout the course of so many generations. You behold the law and the prophets standing, if we may speak so, at the foot of the cross, and doing homage. You behold Moses and Aaron bearing the Ark of the Covenant; David and Elijah presenting the oracle of testimony. You behold all the priests and sacrifices, all the rites and ordinances, all the types and symbols assembled together to receive their consummation. Without the death of Christ, the worship and ceremonies of the law would have remained a pompous, but unmeaning, institution. In the hour when He was crucified, "the book with the seven seals" was opened. Every rite assumed its significancy; every prediction met its event; every symbol displayed its correspondence. The dark and seemingly ambiguous method of conveying important discoveries under figures and emblems was not peculiar to the sacred books. The spirit of God in presignifying the death of Christ, adopted that plan, according to which the whole knowledge of those early ages was propagated through the world. Under the veil of mysterious allusion, all wisdom was then concealed. From the sensible world images were everywhere borrowed to describe things unseen. More was understood to be meant than was openly exprest. By enigmatical rites the priests communicated his doctrines; by parables and allegories the philosopher instructed his disciples; even the legislator, by figurative sayings, commanded the reverence of the people. Agreeably to this prevailing mode of instruction, the whole dispensation of the Old Testament was so conducted as to be the shadow and figure of a spiritual system. Every remarkable event, every distinguished personage, under the law, is interpreted in the New Testament, as bearing reference to the hour of which we treat. If Isaac was laid upon the altar as an innocent victim; if David was driven from his throne by the wicked, and restored by the hand of God; if the brazen serpent was lifted up to heal the people; if the rock was smitten by Moses, to furnish drink in the wilderness; all were types of Christ and alluded to His death. In predicting the same event the language of ancient prophecy was magnificent, but seemingly contradictory: for it foretold a Messiah, who was to be at once a sufferer and a conquerer. The Star was to come out of Jacob, and the Branch to spring from the stem of Jesse. The Angel of the Covenant, the desire of all nations, was to come suddenly to His temple; and to Him was to be "the gathering of the people." Yet, at the same time, He was to be "despised and rejected of men"; He was to be "taken from prison and from judgment," and to be "led as a lamb to the slaughter." Tho He was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief," yet "the Gentiles were to come to his light, and kings to the brightness of his rising." In the hour when Christ died, those prophetical riddles were solved: those seeming contradictions were reconciled. The obscurity of oracles, and the ambiguity of typos vanished. The "sun of righteousness" rose; and, together with the dawn of religion those shadows passed away. IV. This was the hour of the abolition of the law, and the introduction of the gospel; the hour of terminating the old and of beginning the new dispensation of religious knowledge and worship throughout the earth. Viewed in this light, it forms the most august era which is to be found in the history of mankind. When Christ was suffering on the cross, we are informed by one of the evangelists that He said, "I thirst"; and that they filled a sponge with vinegar, and put it to His mouth. "After he had tasted the vinegar, knowing that all things were now accomplished, and the Scriptures fulfilled, he said, It is finished"; that is, this offered draft of vinegar was the last circumstance predicted by an ancient prophet that remained to be fulfilled. The vision and the prophecy are now sealed: the Mosaic dispensation is closed. "And he bowed his head and gave up the ghost." "It is finished." When He uttered these words He changed the state of the universe. At that moment the law ceased, and the gospel commenced. This was the ever memorable point of time which separated the old and the new worlds from each other. On one side of the point of separation you behold the law, with its priests, its sacrifices, and its rites, retiring from sight. On the other side you behold the gospel, with its simple and venerable institutions, coming forward into view. Significantly was the veil of the temple rent in this hour; for the glory then departed from between the cherubim. The legal high priest delivered up his urim and thummim, his breast-plate, his robes, and his incense: and Christ stood forth as the great high priest of all succeeding generations. By that one sacrifice which He now offered, He abolished sacrifices forever. Altars on which the fire had blazed for ages, were now to smoke no more. Victims were no more to bleed. "Not with the blood of bulls and goats, but with his own blood he now entered into the holy place, there to appear in the presence of God for us." This was the hour of association and union to all the worshipers of God. When Christ said, "It is finished," He threw down the wall of partition which had so long divided the Gentile from the Jew. He gathered into one all the faithful out of every kindred and people. He proclaimed the hour to be come when the knowledge of the true God should be no longer confined to one nation, nor His worship to one temple; but over all the earth, the worshipers of the Father should serve Him "in spirit and in truth." From that hour they who dwelt in the "uttermost ends of the earth, strangers to the covenant of promise," began to be "brought nigh." In that hour the light of the gospel dawned from afar on the British Islands. During a long course of ages, Providence seemed to be occupied in preparing the world for this revolution. The whole Jewish economy was intended to usher it in. The knowledge of God was preserved unextinguished in one corner of the world, that thence, in due time, might issue forth the light which was to overspread the earth. Successive revelations gradually enlarged the views of men beyond the narrow bounds of Judea, to a more extensive kingdom of God. Signs and miracles awakened their expectation and directed their eyes toward this great event. Whether God descended on the flaming mountain, or spoke by the prophet's voice; whether He scattered His chosen people into captivity, or reassembled them in their own land, He was still carrying on a progressive plan, which was accomplished at the death of Christ. Not only in the territories of Israel, but over all the earth, the great dispensations of Providence respected the approach of this important hour. If empires rose or fell; if war divided, or peace united, the nations; if learning civilized their manners, or philosophy enlarged their views; all was, by the secret decree of Heaven, made to ripen the world for that "fulness of time," when Christ was to publish the whole counsel of God. The Persian, the Macedonian, the Roman conqueror, entered upon the stage each at his predicted period. The revolutions of power, and the succession of monarchies, were so arranged by Providence, as to facilitate the progress of the gospel through the habitable world, after the day had arrived, "when the stone which was cut out of the mountain without hands, should become a great mountain and fill the earth." This was the day which Abraham saw afar off, and was glad. This was the day which "many prophets, and kings, and righteous men desired to see, but could not"; the day for which "the earnest expectation of the creature," long opprest with ignorance, and bewildered in superstition, might be justly said to wait. V. This was the hour of Christ's triumph over all the powers of darkness; the hour in which He overthrew dominions and thrones, "led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men." The contest which the kingdom of darkness had long maintained against the kingdom of light was now brought to its crisis. The period was come when "the seed of the woman shall bruise the head of the serpent" For many ages the most gross superstition had filled the earth. "The glory of the incorruptible God" was everywhere, except in the land of Judea, "changed into images made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and beasts, and creeping-things." The world, which the Almighty created for Himself, seemed to have become a temple of idols. Even to vices and passions altars were raised; and what was entitled religion, was in effect a discipline of impurity. In the midst of this universal darkness, Satan had erected his throne, and the learned and the polished, as well as the savage nations, bowed down before him. But at the hour when Christ appeared on the cross, the signal of His defeat was given. His kingdom suddenly departed from Him; the reign of idolatry passed away: He was beheld to fall "like lightning from heaven." In that hour the foundation of every pagan temple shook. The statue of every false god tottered on its base. The priest fled from his falling shrine; and the heathen oracles became dumb forever. As on the cross Christ triumphed over Satan, so He overcame His auxiliary, the world. Long had it assailed Him with its temptations and discouragements; in this hour of severe trial He surmounted them all. Formerly He had despised the pleasures of the world. He now baffled its terrors. Hence He is justly said to have "crucified the world." By His sufferings He ennobled distress; and He darkened the luster of the pomp and vanities of life. He discovered to His followers the path which leads, through affliction, to glory and to victory; and He imparted to them the same spirit which enabled Him to overcome. "My kingdom is not of this world. In this world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." Death also, the last foe of man, was the victim of this hour. The formidable appearance of the specter remained; but his dart was taken away. For, in the hour when Christ expiated guilt, He disarmed death, by securing the resurrection of the just. When He said to His penitent fellow sufferer, "To-day thou shalt be with me in paradise," He announced to all His followers the certainty of heavenly bliss. He declared the cherubim to be dismissed and the flaming sword to be sheathed, which had been appointed at the fall, to keep from man "the way of the tree of life." Faint, before this period, had been the hope, indistinct the prospect, which even good men enjoyed of the heavenly kingdom. Life and immortality were now brought to light. From the hill of Calvary the first clear and certain view was given to the world of the everlasting mansions. Since that hour they have been the perpetual consolation of believers in Christ. Under trouble, they soothe their minds; amid temptation, they support their virtue; and in their dying moments enable them to say, "O death! where is thy sting? O grave! where is thy victory"? VI. This was the hour when our Lord erected that spiritual kingdom which is never to end. How vain are the counsels and designs of men! How shallow is the policy of the wicked! How short their triumphing! The enemies of Christ imagined that in this hour they had successfully accomplished their plan for His destruction. They believed that they had entirely scattered the small party of His followers, and had extinguished His name and His honor forever. In derision they addrest Him as a king. They clothed Him with purple robes; they crowned Him with a crown of thorns; they put a reed into His hand; and, with insulting mockery, bowed the knee before Him. Blind and impious men! How little did they know that the Almighty was at that moment setting Him as a king on the hill of Zion; giving Him "the heathen for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for his possession"! How little did they know that their badges of mock royalty were at that moment converted into the signals of absolute dominion, and the instruments of irresistible power! The reed which they put into His hands became "a rod of iron," with which He was to "break in pieces his enemies," a scepter with which He was to rule the universe in righteousness. The cross which they thought was to stigmatize Him with infamy, became the ensign of His renown. Instead of being the reproach of His followers, it was to be their boast and their glory. The cross was to shine on palaces and churches throughout the earth. It was to be assumed as the distinction of the most powerful monarchs, and to wave in the banner of victorious armies when the memory of Herod and Pilate should be accurst, when Jerusalem should be reduced to ashes, and the Jews be vagabonds over all the world. These were the triumphs which commenced at this hour. Our Lord saw them already in their birth; He saw of the travail of His soul, and was satisfied. He beheld the Word of God going forth, conquering, and to conquer; subduing, to the obedience of His laws, the subduers of the world; carrying light into the regions of darkness, and mildness into the habitations of cruelty. He beheld the Gentiles waiting below the cross, to receive the gospel. He beheld Ethiopia and the Isles stretching out their hands to God; the desert beginning to rejoice and to blossom as the rose; and the knowledge of the Lord filling the earth, as the waters cover the sea. Well pleased, He said, "It is finished." As a conqueror He retired from the field, reviewing His triumphs: "He bowed his head and gave up the ghost." From that hour, Christ was no longer a mortal man, but "Head over all things to the Church," the glorious King of men and angels, of whose dominion there shall be no end. His triumphs shall perpetually increase. "His name shall endure forever; it shall last as long as the sun; men shall be blest in him, and all nations shall call him blest" Such were the transactions, such the effects, of this ever-memorable hour. With all those great events was the mind of our Lord filled, when He lifted His eyes to heaven, and said, "Father! the hour is come." From this view which we have taken of this subject, permit me to suggest what ground it affords to confide in the mercy of God for the pardon of sin; to trust to His faithfulness for the accomplishment of all His promises; and to approach to Him, with gratitude and devotion, in acts of worship. In the first place, the death of Christ affords us ground to confide in the divine mercy for the pardon of sin. All the steps of that high dispensation of Providence, which we have considered, lead directly to this conclusion, "He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" This is the final result of the discoveries of the gospel. On this rests the great system of consolation which it hath reared up for men. We are not left to dubious and intricate reasonings concerning the conduct which God may be expected to hold toward His offending creatures: but we are led to the view of important and illustrious facts which strike the mind with evidence irresistible. For it is possible to believe that such great operations, as I have endeavored to describe, were carried on by the Almighty in vain? Did He excite in the hearts of His creatures such encouraging hopes, without any intention to fulfil them? After so long a preparation of goodness, could He mean to deny forgiveness to the penitent and the humble? When overcome by the sense of guilt, man looks up with an astonished eye to the justice of his Creator, let him recollect that hour of which the text speaks, and be comforted. The signals of divine mercy, erected in his view, are too conspicuous to be either distrusted or mistaken. In the next place, the discoveries of this hour afford the highest reason to trust in the divine faithfulness for the accomplishment of every promise which remains yet unfulfilled. For this was the hour of the completion of God's ancient covenant. It was the "performance of the mercy promised to the fathers." We behold the consummation of a great plan, which, throughout a course of ages, had been uniformly pursued; and which, against every human appearance, was, at the appointed moment, exactly fulfilled. No length of time alters His purpose. No obstacles can retard it. Toward the ends accomplished in this hour, the most repugnant instruments were made to operate. We discern God bending to His purpose the jarring passions, the opposite interests, and even the vices of men; uniting seeming contrarieties in His scheme; making "the wrath of man to praise him"; obliging the ambition of princes, the prejudices of Jews, the malice of Satan, all to concur, either in bringing forward this hour, or in completing its destined effects. With what entire confidence ought we to wait for the fulfilment of all His other promises in their due time, even when events are most embroiled and the prospect is most discouraging: "Altho thou sayst thou canst not see him, yet judgment is before him; therefore trust thou in him." Be attentive only to perform thy duty; leave the event to God, and be assured that, under the direction of His Providence, "all things shall work together" for a happy issue. Lastly, the consideration of this whole subject tends to excite gratitude and devotion, when we approach to God in acts of worship. The hour of which I have discust, presents Him to us in the amiable light of the deliverer of mankind, the restorer of our forfeited hopes. We behold the greatness of the Almighty, softened by the mild radiance of condescension and mercy. We behold Him diminishing the awful distance at which we stand from His presence, by appointing for us a mediator and intercessor, through whom the humble may, without dismay, approach to Him who made them. By such views of the divine nature, Christian faith lays the foundation for a worship which shall be at once rational and affectionate; a worship in which the light of the understanding shall concur with the devotion of the heart, and the most profound reverence be united with the most cordial love. Christian faith is not a system of speculative truths. It is not a lesson of moral instruction only. By a train of high discoveries which it reveals, by a succession of interesting objects which it places in our view, it is calculated to elevate the mind, to purify the affections, and by the assistance of devotion, to confirm and encourage virtue. Such, in particular, is the scope of that divine institution, the sacrament of our Lord's Supper. To this happy purpose let it conduce, by concentering in one striking point of light all that the gospel has displayed of what is most important to man. Touched with such contrition for past offenses, and filled with a grateful sense of divine goodness, let us come to the altar of God, and, with a humble faith in His infinite mercies, devote ourselves to His service forever. DWIGHT THE SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Timothy Dwight was born at Northampton, Massachusetts, in 1752. He graduated from Yale in 1769, served as chaplain in the army during the Revolutionary War and was chosen president of his university in 1795. He died, after holding that office for twelve years, in 1817. Lyman Beecher, who attributed his conversion to him, says: "He was of noble form, with a noble head and body, and had one of the sweetest smiles that ever you saw. When I heard him preach on 'the harvest is passed, the summer is ended, and we are not saved,' a whole avalanche rolled down on my mind. I went home weeping every step." DWIGHT 1752--1817 THE SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD _O Lord, I know that the way of man is not in himself: it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps_.--Jeremiah x., 23. Few of this audience will probably deny the truth of a direct Scriptural declaration. With as little reason can it be denied that most of them apparently live in the very manner in which they would live if the doctrine were false: or that they rely, chiefly at least, on their own sagacity, contrivance and efforts for success in this life and that which is to come. As little can it be questioned that such self-confidence is a guide eminently dangerous and deceitful. Safe as we may feel under its direction, our safety is imaginary. The folly of others in trusting to themselves we discern irresistibly. The same folly they perceive, with equal evidence, in us. Our true wisdom lies in willingly feeling, and cheerfully acknowledging, our dependence on God; and in committing ourselves with humble reliance to His care and direction. With these observations I will now proceed to illustrate the truth of the doctrine. The mode which I shall pursue will, probably, be thought singular. I hope it will be useful. Metaphysical arguments, which are customarily employed for the purpose of establishing this and several other doctrines of theology, are, if I mistake not, less satisfactory to the minds of men at large than the authors of them appear to believe. Facts, wherever they can be fairly adduced for this end, are attended with a superior power of conviction; and commonly leave little doubt behind them. On these, therefore, I shall at the present time rely for the accomplishment of my design. In the first place, the doctrine of the text is evident from the great fact that the birth and education of all men depend not on themselves. The succeeding events of life are derived, in a great measure at least, from our birth. By this event, it is in a prime degree determined whether men shall be princes or peasants, opulent or poor, learned or ignorant, honorable or despised; whether they shall be civilized or savage, freemen or slaves, Christians or heathens, Mohammedans or Jews. A child is born of Indian parents in the western wilderness. By his birth he is, of course, a savage. His friends, his mode of life, his habits, his knowledge, his opinions, his conduct, all grow out of this single event. His first thoughts, his first instructions, and all the first objects with which he is conversant, the persons whom he loves, the life to which he assumes are all savage. He is an Indian from the cradle; he is an Indian to the grave. To say that he could not be otherwise, we are not warranted; but that he is not is certain. Another child is born of a Bedouin Arab. From this moment he begins to be an Arabian. His hand is against every man; and every man's hand is against him. Before he can walk, or speak, he is carried through pathless wastes in search of food; and roams in the arms of his mother, and on the back of a camel, from spring to spring, and from pasture to pasture. Even then he begins his conflict with hunger and thirst; is scorched by a vertical sun; shriveled by the burning sand beneath; and poisoned by the breath of the simoom. Hardened thus through his infancy and childhood, both in body and mind, he becomes, under the exhortations and example of his father, a robber from his youth; attacks every stranger whom he is able to overcome; and plunders every valuable thing on which he can lay his hand. A third receives his birth in the palace of a British nobleman; and is welcomed to the world as the heir apparent of an ancient, honorable and splendid family. As soon as he opens his eyes on the light, he is surrounded by all the enjoyments which opulence can furnish, ingenuity contrive, or fondness bestow. He is dandled on the knee of indulgence; encircled by attendants, who watch and prevent alike his necessities and wishes; cradled on down; and charmed to sleep by the voice of tenderness and care. From the dangers and evils of life he is guarded with anxious solicitude. To its pleasures he is conducted by the ever-ready hand of maternal affection. His person is shaped and improved by a succession of masters; his mind is opened, invigorated and refined by the assiduous superintendence of learning and wisdom. While a child he is served by a host of menials and flattered by successive trains of visitors. When a youth he is regarded by a band of tenants with reverence and awe. His equals in age bow to his rank; and multitudes, of superior years acknowledge his distinction by continual testimonies of marked respect. When a man, he engages the regard of his sovereign; commands the esteem of the senate; and earns the love and applause of his country. A fourth child, in the same kingdom, is begotten by a beggar, and born under a hedge. From his birth he is trained to suffering and hardihood. He is nursed, if he can be said to be nursed at all, on a coarse, scanty and precarious pittance; holds life only as a tenant at will; combats from the first dawnings of intellect with insolence, cold and nakedness; is originally taught to beg and to steal; is driven from the doors of men by the porter or the house dog; and is regarded as an alien from the family of Adam. Like his kindred worms, he creeps through life in the dust; dies under the hedge, where he is born; and is then, perhaps, cast into a ditch, and covered with earth by some stranger, who remembers that, altho a beggar, he still was a man. A child enters the world in China; and unites, as a thing of course, with his sottish countrymen in the stupid worship of the idol Fo. Another prostrates himself before the Lama, in consequence of having received his being in Tibet, and of seeing the Lama worshiped by all around him. A third, who begins his existence in Turkey, is carried early to the mosque; taught to lisp with profound reverence the name of Mohammed; habituated to repeat the prayers and sentences of the Koran as the means of eternal life; and induced, in a manner irresistible, to complete his title to Paradise by a pilgrimage to Mecca. The Hindu infant grows into a religious veneration for the cow; and perhaps never doubts that, if he adds to this solemn devotion to Juggernaut, the Gooroos, and the Dewtahs, and performs carefully his ablutions in the Ganges, he shall wash away all his sins, and obtain, by the favor of Brahma, a seat among the blest. In our own favored country, one child is born of parents devoted solely to this world. From his earliest moments of understanding, he hears and sees nothing commended but hunting, horse-racing, visiting, dancing, dressing, riding, parties, gaming, acquiring money with eagerness and skill, and spending it in gaiety, pleasure and luxury. These things, he is taught by conversation and example, constitute all the good of man. His taste is formed, his habits are riveted, and the whole character of his soul is turned to them before he is fairly sensible that there is any other good. The question whether virtue and piety are either duties or blessings he probably never asks. In the dawn of life he sees them neglected and despised by those whom he most reverences; and learns only to neglect and despise them also. Of Jehovah he thinks as little, and for the same reason as a Chinese or a Hindu. They pay their devotions to Fo and to Juggernaut: he his to money and pleasure. Thus he lives, and dies, a mere animal; a stranger to intelligence and morality, to his duty and his God. Another child comes into existence in the mansion of knowledge and virtue. From his infancy, his mind is fashioned to wisdom and piety. In his infancy he is taught and allured to remember his Creator; and to unite, first in form and then in affection, in the household devotions of the morning and evening. God he knows almost as soon as he can know anything. The presence of that glorious being he is taught to realize almost from the cradle; and from the dawn of intelligence to understand the perfections and government of his Creator. His own accountableness, as soon as he can comprehend it, he begins to feel habitually, and always. The way of life through the Redeemer is early, and regularly explained to him by the voice of parental love; and enforced and endeared in the house of God. As soon as possible, he is enabled to read, and persuaded to "search the Scriptures." Of the approach, the danger and the mischiefs of temptations, he is tenderly warned. At the commencement of sin, he is kindly checked in his dangerous career. To God he was solemnly given in baptism. To God he was daily commended in fervent prayer. Under this happy cultivation he grows up "like an olive-tree in the courts of the Lord"; and, green, beautiful and flourishing, he blossoms; bears fruit; and is prepared to be transplanted by the divine hand to a kinder soil in the regions above. How many, and how great, are the differences in these several children! How plainly do they all, in ordinary circumstances, arise out of their birth! From their birth is derived, of course, the education which I have ascribed to them; and from this education spring in a great measure both character and their destiny. The place, the persons, the circumstances, are here evidently the great things which, in the ordinary course of Providence, appear chiefly to determine what the respective men shall be; and what shall be those allotments which regularly follow their respective characters. As, then, they are not at all concerned in contriving or accomplishing either their birth or their education; it is certain that, in these most important particulars, the way of man is not in himself. God only can determine what child shall spring from parents, wise or foolish, virtuous or sinful, rich or poor, honorable or infamous, civilized or savage, Christian or heathen. I wish it to be distinctly understood, and carefully remembered, that "in the moral conduct of all these individuals no physical necessity operates." Every one of them is absolutely a free agent; as free as any created agent can be. Whatever he does is the result of choice, absolutely unconstrained. Let me add, that not one of them is placed in a situation in which, if he learns and performs his duty to the utmost of his power, he will fail of being finally accepted. Secondly. The doctrine is strikingly evident from this great fact, also, that the course of life, which men usually pursue, is very different from that which they have intended. Human life is ordinarily little else than a collection of disappointments. Rarely is the life of man such as he designs it shall be. Often do we fail of pursuing, at all, the business originally in our view. The intentional farmer becomes a mechanic, a seaman, a merchant, a lawyer, a physician, or a divine. The very place of settlement, and of residence through life, is often different, and distant, from that which was originally contemplated. Still more different is the success which follows our efforts. All men intend to be rich and honorable; to enjoy ease; and to pursue pleasure. But how small is the number of those who compass these objects! In this country, the great body of mankind are, indeed, possest of competence; a safer and happier lot than that to which they aspire; yet few, very few are rich. Here, also, the great body of mankind possess a character, generally reputable; but very limited is the number of those who arrive at the honor which they so ardently desire, and of which they feel assured. Almost all stop at the moderate level, where human efforts appear to have their boundary established in the determination of God. Nay, far below this level creep multitudes of such as began life with full confidence in the attainment of distinction and splendor. The lawyer, emulating the eloquence, business, and fame of Murray or Dunning, and secretly resolved not to slacken his efforts, until all his rivals in the race for glory are outstript is often astonished, as well as broken-hearted, to find business and fame pass by his door, and stop at the more favored mansion of some competitor, in his view less able, and less discerning, than himself. The physician, devoted to medical science, and possest of distinguished powers of discerning and removing diseases, is obliged to walk; while a more fortunate empiric, ignorant and worthless, rolls through the streets in his coach. The legislator beholds with anguish and amazement the suffrages of his countrymen given eagerly to a rival candidate devoid of knowledge and integrity; but skilled in flattering the base passions of men, and deterred by no hesitations of conscience, and no fears of infamy, from saying and doing anything which may secure his election. The merchant often beholds with a despairing eye his own ships sunk in the ocean; his debtors fail; his goods unsold, his business cramped; and himself, his family and his hopes ruined; while a less skilful but more successful neighbor sees wealth blown to him by every wind, and floated on every wave. The crops of the farmer are stinted; his cattle die; his markets are bad; and the purchaser of his commodities proves to be a cheat, who deceives his confidence and runs away with his property. Thus the darling schemes and fondest hopes of man are daily frustrated by time. While sagacity contrives, patience matures, and labor industriously executes, disappointment laughs at the curious fabric, formed by so many efforts and gay with so many brilliant colors, and while the artists imagine the work arrived at the moment of completion, brushes away the beautiful web, and leaves nothing behind. The designs of men, however, are in many respects not infrequently successful. The lawyer and physician acquire business and fame; the statesman, votes; and the farmer, wealth. But their real success, even in this case, is often substantially the same with that already recited. In all plans, and all labors, the supreme object is to become happy. Yet, when men have actually acquired riches and honor, or secured to themselves popular favor, they still find the happiness, which they expected, eluding their grasp. Neither wealth, fame, office, nor sensual pleasure can yield such good as we need. As these coveted objects are accumulated, the wishes of man always grow faster than his gratifications. Hence, whatever he acquires, he is usually as little satisfied as before, and often less. A principal design of the mind in laboring for these things is to become superior to others. But almost all rich men are obliged to see, and usually with no small anguish, others richer than themselves; honorable men, others more honorable; voluptuous men, others who enjoy more pleasure. The great end of the strife is therefore unobtained; and the happiness expected never found. Even the successful competitor in the race utterly misses his aim. The real enjoyment existed, altho it was unperceived by him, in the mere strife for superiority. When he has outstript all his rivals the contest is at an end: and his spirits, which were invigorated only by contending, languish for want of a competitor. Besides, the happiness in view was only the indulgence of pride, or mere animal pleasure. Neither of these can satisfy or endure. A rational mind may be, and often is, so narrow and groveling as not to aim at any higher good, to understand its nature or to believe its existence. Still, in its original constitution, it was formed with a capacity for intellectual and moral good, and was destined to find in this good its only satisfaction. Hence, no inferior good will fill its capacity or its desires. Nor can this bent of its nature ever be altered. Whatever other enjoyment, therefore, it may attain, it will, without this, still crave and still be unhappy. No view of the ever-varying character and success of mankind in their expectations of happiness, and their efforts to obtain it, can illustrate this doctrine more satisfactorily than that of the progress and end of a class of students in this seminary. At their first appearance here they are all exactly on the same level. Their character, their hopes and their destination are the same. They are enrolled on one list; and enter upon a collegiate life with the same promise of success. At this moment they are plants, appearing just above the ground; all equally fair and flourishing. Within a short time, however, some begin to rise above others; indicating by a more rapid growth a structure of superior vigor, and promising both more early and more abundant fruit.... Were I to ask the youths who are before me what are their designs and expectations concerning their future life, and write down their several answers, what a vast difference would ultimately be found between those answers and the events which would actually befall them! To how great a part of that difference would facts, over which they could have no control, give birth! How many of them will in all probability be less prosperous, rich, and honorable than they now intend: how many devoted to employments of which at present they do not even dream; in circumstances, of which they never entertained even a thought, behind those whom they expected to outrun, poor, sick, in sorrow or in the grave. First. You see here, my young friends, the most solid reasons for gratitude to your Creator. God, only, directed that you should be born in this land, and in the midst of peace, plenty, civilization, freedom, learning and religion; and that your existence should not commence in a Tartarian forest or an African waste. God, alone, ordered that you should be born of parents who knew and worshiped Him, the glorious and eternal Jehovah; and not of parents who bowed before the Lama or the ox, an image of brass or the stock of a tree. In the book of His counsels, your names, so far as we are able to judge, were written in the fair lines of mercy. It is of His overflowing goodness that you are now here; surrounded with privileges, and beset with blessings, educated to knowledge, usefulness and piety, and prepared to begin an endless course of happiness and glory. All these delightful things have been poured into your lap, and have come, unbidden, to solicit your acceptance. If these blessings awaken not gratitude, it can not be awakened by the blessings in the present world. If they are not thankfully felt by you, it is because you know not how to be thankful. Think what you are, and where you are; and what and where you just as easily might have been. Remember that, instead of cherishing tender affections, imbibing refined sentiments, exploring the field of science, and assuming the name and character of the sons of God, you might as easily have been dozing in the smoke of a wigwam, brandishing a tomahawk, or dancing round an emboweled captive; or that you might yourself have been emboweled by the hand of superstition, and burnt on the altars of Moloch. If you remember these things, you can not but call to mind, also, who made you to differ from the miserable beings who have thus lived and died. Secondly. This doctrine forcibly demands of you to moderate desires and expectations. There are two modes in which men seek happiness in the enjoyments of the present world. "Most persons freely indulge their wishes, and intend to find objects sufficient in number and value to satisfy them." A few "aim at satisfaction by proportioning their desires to the number and measure of their probable gratifications." By the doctrine of the text, the latter method is stamped with the name of wisdom, and on the former is inscribed the name of folly. Desires indulged grow faster and farther than gratifications extend. Ungratified desire is misery. Expectations eagerly indulged and terminated by disappointment are often exquisite misery. But how frequently are expectations raised only to be disappointed, and desires let loose only to terminate in distress! The child pines for a toy: the moment he possesses it, he throws it by and cries for another. When they are piled up in heaps around him, he looks at them without pleasure, and leaves them without regret. He knew not that all the good which they could yield lay in expectation; nor that his wishes for more would increase faster than toys could be multiplied, and is unhappy at last for the same reason as at first: his wishes are ungratified. Still indulging them, and still believing that the gratification of them will furnish the enjoyment for which he pines, he goes on, only to be unhappy. Men are merely taller children. Honor, wealth and splendor are the toys for which grown children pine; but which, however accumulated, leave them still disappointed and unhappy. God never designed that intelligent beings should be satisfied with these enjoyments. By his wisdom and goodness they were formed to derive their happiness and virtue. Moderated desires constitute a character fitted to acquire all the good which this world can yield. He who is prepared, in whatever situation he is, therewith to be content, has learned effectually the science of being happy, and possesses the alchemic stone which will change every metal into gold. Such a man will smile upon a stool, while Alexander at his side sits weeping on the throne of the world. The doctrine of the text teaches you irresistibly that, since you can not command gratifications, you should command your desires; and that, as the events of life do not accord with your wishes, your wishes should accord with them. Multiplied enjoyments fall to but few men, and are no more rationally expected than the highest prize in a lottery. But a well-regulated mind, a dignified independence of the world, and a wise preparation to possess one's soul in patience, whatever circumstances may exist, is in the power of every man, and is greater wealth than that of both Indies, and greater honor than Caesar ever required. Thirdly. As your course and your success through life are not under your control, you are strongly urged to commit yourselves to God, who can control both. That you can not direct your course through the world, that your best concerted plans will often fail, that your sanguine expectations will be disappointed, and that your fondest worldly wishes will terminate in mortification can not admit of a momentary doubt. That God can direct you, that He actually controls all your concerns, and that, if you commit yourselves to His care, He will direct you kindly and safely, can be doubted only of choice. Why, then, do you hesitate to yield yourselves and your interests to the guidance of your Maker? There are two reasons which appear especially to govern mankind in this important concern; they do not and will not realize the agency of God in their affairs; and they do not choose to have them directed as they imagine He will direct them. The former is the result of stupidity; the latter, of impiety. Both are foolish in the extreme, and not less sinful than foolish. The infinitely wise, great and glorious benefactor of the universe has offered to take men by the hand, lead them through the journey of life, and conduct them to His own house in the heavens. The proof of His sincerity in making this offer has been already produced. He has given His own Son to live, and die, and rise, and reign, and intercede for our race. "Herein is love," if there ever was love; "not that we have loved him, but that he has loved us." That He, who has done this, should not be sincere is impossible. St. Paul, therefore, triumphantly asks what none can answer: "He, that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" Trust, then, His word with undoubting confidence; take His hand with humble gratitude, and with all thy heart obey His voice, which you will everywhere hear, saying, "this is the way, walk ye therein." In sickness and in health, by night and by day, at home and in crowds, He will watch over you with tenderness inexpressible. He will make you lie down in green pastures, lead you beside the still waters and guide you in paths of righteousness, for His name's sake. He will prepare a table before you in the presence of your enemies, and cause your cup to run over with blessings. When you pass through the waters of affliction He will be with you, and through the rivers they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle on you. From their native heavens He will commission those charming twin sisters, goodness and mercy, to descend and "follow you all your days." But if you wish God to be your guide and your friend, you must conform to his pleasure. Certainly you can not wonder that the infinitely Wise should prefer His own wisdom to yours, and that he should choose for His children their allotments, rather than leave them to choose for themselves. That part of His pleasure, which you are to obey, is all summed up in the single word duty, and it is perfectly disclosed in the Scriptures. The whole scheme is so formed as to be plain, easy, profitable, and delightful; profitable in hand, delightful in the possession. Every part and precept of the whole is calculated for this end, and will make you only wise, good, and happy. Life has been often styled an ocean, and our progress through it a voyage. The ocean is tempestuous and billowy, overspread by a cloudy sky, and fraught beneath with shelves and quicksands. The voyage is eventful beyond comprehension, and at the same time full of uncertainty, and replete with danger. Every adventurer needs to be well prepared for whatever may befall him, and well secured against the manifold hazards of losing his course, sinking in the abyss, or of being wrecked against the shore. These evils have all existed at all times. The present, and that part of the past which is known to you by experience, has seen them multiplied beyond example. It has seen the ancient and acknowledged standards of thinking violently thrown down. Religion, morals, government, and the estimate formed by man of crimes and virtues, and of all the means of usefulness and enjoyment, have been questioned, attacked, and in various places, and with respect to millions of the human race, finally overthrown. A licentiousness of opinion and conduct, daring, outrageous, and rending asunder every bond formed by God or man, has taken place of former good sense and sound morals, and has long threatened the destruction of human good. Industry, cunning, and fraud have toiled with unrivaled exertions to convert man into a savage and the world into a desert. A wretched and hypocritical philanthropy, also, not less mischievous, has stalked forth as the companion of these ravages: a philanthropy born in a dream, bred in a hovel, and living only in professions. This guardian genius of human interests, this friend of human rights, this redresser of human wrongs, is yet without a heart to feel, and without a hand to bless. But she is well furnished with lungs, with eyes, and a tongue. She can talk, and sigh, and weep at pleasure, but can neither pity nor give. The objects of her attachment are either knaves and villains at home, or unknown sufferers beyond her reach abroad. To the former, she ministers the sword and the dagger, that they may fight their way into place, and power, and profit. At the latter she only looks through a telescope of fancy, as an astronomer searches for stars invisible to the eye. To every real object of charity within her reach she complacently says, "Be thou warmed, and be thou filled; depart in peace." By the daring spirit, the vigorous efforts, and the ingenious cunning so industriously exerted on the one hand, and the smooth and gentle benevolence so softly profest on the other, multitudes have been, and you easily may be, destroyed. The mischief has indeed been met, resisted, and overcome; but it has the heads and the lives of the hydra, and its wounds, which at times have seemed deadly, are much more readily healed than any good man could wish, than any sober man could expect. Hope not to escape the assaults of this enemy: To feel that you are in danger will ever be a preparation for your safety. But it will be only such a preparation; your deliverance must ultimately and only flow from your Maker. Resolve, then, to commit yourselves to Him with a cordial reliance on His wisdom, power, and protection. Consider how much you have at stake, that you are bound to eternity, that your existence will be immortal, and that you will either rise to endless glory or be lost in absolute perdition. Heaven is your proper home. The path, which I have recommended to you, will conduct you safely and certainly to that happy world. Fill up life, therefore, with obedience to God, with faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and repentance unto life, the obedience to the two great commands of the gospel, with supreme love to God and universal good-will to men, the obedience to the two great commands of the law. On all your sincere endeavors to honor Him, and befriend your fellow men, He will smile; every virtuous attempt He will bless; every act of obedience He will reward. Life in this manner will be pleasant amid all its sorrows; and beams of hope will continually shine through the gloom, by which it is so often overcast. Virtue, the seed that can not die, planted from heaven, and cultivated by the divine hand, will grow up in your hearts with increasing vigor, and blossom in your lives with supernal beauty. Your path will be that of the just, and will gloriously resemble the dawning light, "which shines brighter and brighter, to the perfect day." Peace will take you by the hand, and offer herself as the constant and delightful companion of your progress. Hope will walk before you, and with an unerring finger point out your course; and joy, at the end of the journey, will open her arms to receive you. You will wait on the Lord, and renew your strength; will mount up with wings as eagles; will run, and not be weary; will walk, and not faint. ROBERT HALL MARKS OF LOVE TO GOD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Robert Hall, Baptist divine, was born at Arnesby, near Leicester, England, in 1764. Destined for the ministry, he was educated at the Baptist Academy at Bristol, and preached for the first time in 1779. In 1783 he began his ministry in Bristol and drew crowded congregations of all classes. The tradition of Hall's pupit oratory has secured his lasting fame. Many minds of a high order were fascinated by his eloquence, and his conversation was brilliant. His treatment of religious topics had the rare merit of commending evangelical doctrine to people of taste. Dugald Stewart declares that his writings and public utterances exhibited the English language in its perfection. He died in 1831. ROBERT HALL 1764--1831 MARKS OF LOVE TO GOD _But I know you, that ye have not the love of God in you._--John v., 42. The persons whom our Lord addrest in these words made a high profession of religion, valued themselves upon their peculiar opportunities of knowing the true God and His will, and proclaimed themselves as the Israel and the temple of the Lord, while they despised the surrounding pagans as those who were strangers to the divine law. Yet the self-complacent Pharisees of our Savior's age were as far from the love of God, he assures them in the text, as any of those who had never heard of His name. In this respect, many of "the first were last, and the last first." The rejection of the gospel evinces a hardness of heart which is decisive against the character; and, in the case of the Pharisees, it gave ample evidence that they possest no love of God. Had they really known God, as our Lord argues, they would have known Himself to be sent by God: whereas, in proving the bitter enemies of Christ, they proved that they were in a state of enmity against God. By parity of reason, we, my brethren, who know God and His Word in the way of Christian profession, ought not to take it for granted that we possess the love of God, and are in the way of eternal life: the same self-delusion may overtake us also; and similar admonitions may be no less necessary to many present, than to the Pharisees of old. Suffer then, my brethren, the word of exhortation, while I invite each individual seriously to consider this subject, with a view to the discovery of his real character. In proceeding to lay down certain marks of grace, let it be premised, that either these marks partake of the nature of true religion, or they do not. If they do, they must be identified with it, and here the mark is the thing: if they do not partake of its nature, some of them may exist as indications where genuine religion is not. It is necessary, then, that we combine a variety of particular signs of grace: any one taken by itself, may, or may not, exist, without true religion; but where many are combined, no just doubt can remain. Whether you have the love of God in your soul presents a most critical subject of inquiry; since the love of God will be acknowledged by all to be the great, the essential, principle of true religion. The simple question, then, to which I would call your attention, is this: "Am I, or am I not, a sincere lover of the Author of my being?" In endeavoring to assist you in the decision of this momentous question, as it respects yourselves. I shall entreat your attention while I suggest a variety of marks which indicate love to God; and supposing the conviction produced by the statement to be, that you have not the love of God, I shall point out the proper improvement of such a conviction. In suggesting various marks by which you may ascertain whether you love God or not, I would mention the general bent and turn of your thoughts, when not under the immediate control of circumstances; for these, you are aware, give a new and peculiar bias to our thoughts, and stamp them with an impress of their own. There is an infinite variety of thoughts continually passing through the mind of every individual: of these, some are thrown up by occasions; but others, and often the greater part, follow the habitual train of our associations. It is not to thoughts of the former kind that I refer; it is to those of the latter class--those involuntary thoughts which spring up of themselves in the mind of every person: it is these, not the former, that afford clear indication of the general temper and disposition. The question I would propose to you is, What is the bent of your thoughts when, disengaged from the influence of any particular occurrence, you are left to yourselves, in the intervals of retirement and tranquillity, in the silence of the midnight watches, and, in short, whenever your mind is left free to its own spontaneous musings? Are the thoughts most familiar to your mind, at such times, thoughts of God and the things of God--or are they thoughts that turn upon the present world and its transient concerns? Are they confined, for the most part, within the narrow circle of time and sense; or do they make frequent and large excursions into the spiritual and eternal world? The answer to this question will go far to decide whether you have, or have not, the love of God. It is impossible that such an object as the divine Being should be absent long from your thoughts; impossible that His remembrance should long remain merged in the stream of other imaginations; unless you are supposed chargeable with a decided indifference to divine things! Unless you are destitute of love to God you can never be so utterly uncongenial in sentiment and feeling with the psalmist, when he says, "My mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips, while I meditate upon thee in the night watches." "How precious are thy thoughts unto me, O God!" When that man of God gazed upon the starry heavens, his mind was not merely wrought into astonishment at the physical energy there displayed; he was still more deeply lost in grateful admiration of the mercy of Providence as manifested to man--a sinful child of dust, and yet visited by God in the midst of so magnificent a universe! But when day passes after day, and night after night, without any serious thoughts of God, it is plain that He is not the home of your mind, not your portion, center, and resting-place: and if this is the case, it is equally plain that you are not in a state of acceptance with Him; since nothing can be more certain than that, as our thoughts are, such must be our character. I do not ask what are your thoughts at particular times, or under the influence of some particular event: there may be little difference, on some occasions, between those who remember, and those who neglect, God habitually. The charge against the ungodly is, that "God is not in all their thoughts." If there are any here who feel this charge as bearing against themselves, let them take that solemn warning given by God himself at the close of the fiftieth psalm, "Oh, consider this, ye that forget God, lest I tear you in pieces, and there be none to deliver you!" Let me request you to consider seriously how you stand disposed to the exercises of religion. If God is the object of your love, you will gladly avail yourselves of the most favorable opportunities of cultivating a closer friendship with the Father of your spirits: on the contrary, he who feels no regard for these opportunities, proves that he has no love to God, and will never be able to establish the conviction that God is his friend. Wherever there exists a sincere friendship, opportunities of cultivating it are gladly embraced, and the opposite privations are regretted. Where a habitual neglect of sacred exercises prevails it must be interpreted as if it said, like those whom the prophet describes, "Cause the Holy One of Israel to cease from amongst us. Depart from us, for we desire not the knowledge of thy way!" If your closets seldom witness your private devotions, if your moments in retirement are languid and uninteresting--your religion can have no hold on your heart; and the reason why your religion has no hold on your heart is because you have no love of God. There are some whose religion sits easy and delightful upon them; its acts and functions are free and lively: there are others who seem to bear their religion as a burden, to drag their duties as a chain--as no vital part of themselves, but rather a cumbrous appendage: this is a decisive and melancholy symptom of a heart alienated from God. There is no genuine religion, no real contact of the heart with the best of beings, unless it makes us continually resort to Him as our chief joy. The psalmist is always expressing his fervent desires after God: after the light of the divine countenance, and the sense of the divine favor: but do you suppose such desires peculiar to the state of believers under the Old Testament? No, my brethren; there exist more abundant reasons than ever, since the gospel of Christ has been displayed in all the glorious fulness of its blessings, why our souls should be inflamed with such feelings as those which inspired the psalmist, when he exclaimed, "As the hart panteth for the water-brooks, so longeth my soul after thee, O God!" If you would ascertain whether you love God, consider how you stand affected toward the Word of God. We can entertain no just thoughts of God, but such as we derive from His own Word: we can acquire no true knowledge of God, nor cherish any suitable affections toward Him, unless they are such as His own revelation authorizes. Otherwise we must suppose that revelation insufficient for its specific purposes, and set the means against the end. All, therefore, who sincerely love God, are students of His Word; they here, also accord in soul with the psalmist, and like him, can say, "O how I love thy word! in it is my meditation all the day:" they eat it as food for their souls, and find it sweeter than honey. They go to it as to an inexhaustible fountain, and drink from it streams of sacred light and joy. A neglected Bible is too unambiguous a sign of an unsanctified heart; since that blest book can not fail to attract every one that loves its divine Author. How is it possible to delight in God, and yet neglect that Word which alone reveals Him in His true and glorious character--alone discovers the way by which He comes into unison with us, and condescends to pardon us, to love us, and to guide us through all this mysterious state of being? It is observable that the only persons who are inattentive to their own sacred books are to be found among Christians. Mohammedans commit large portions of the Koran to memory; the Jews regard the Old Testament with reverence; the Hindu Brahmans are enthusiastically attached to their Shastra; while Christians alone neglect their Bible. And the reason is, that the Scriptures are so much more spiritual than the religious books received by others; they afford so little scope for mere amusement or self-complacency; they place the reader alone with God; they withdraw him from the things that are seen and temporal, and fix him among the things that are unseen and eternal; they disclose to his view at once the secret evils of his own condition, and the awful purity of that Being with whom he has to do. No wonder the ungodly man hates their light, neither comes to their light, but retires from it farther and farther into the shades of guilty ignorance. How melancholy the infatuation of such a character! Estimate your character in respect to your love of God, by reflecting, with what sentiments you regard the people of God. God has a people peculiarly His own: they are not of that world to which they outwardly belong--not conformed to it in the spirit of their mind; they stand apart, many of them at least, in conspicuous conformity to Jesus Christ, and in earnest expectation of the glory which He had promised. How, then, do you regard these decided followers of God? Do you shun their society with aversion and secret shame; or do you enjoy their communion as one of the most delightful among your Christian privileges? Are you content merely to be the companion of those who "have a name to live, but are dead": or can you say with the psalmist, "My delight is in the excellent of the earth"? or, with the beloved disciple, "We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren"? for, as he adds, "He that loveth him that begot, loveth him that is begotten"; if you do not love the image which you have seen, how can you love the unseen original? If the features of holiness and grace in the creature are not attractive to your view, how can your affections rise to the perfect essence? How can you ascend to the very sun itself, when you can not enjoy even the faint reflection of its glory? He who knew the heart, could alone say to those around Him, "I know you, that ye have not the love of God in you": but tho none can address you now in the same tone of divine authority, yet we may hear it uttered by a voice--the voice of your own conscience: you may know, without any perturbations of hope or fear, by the spiritual insensibility and inaction of your soul--by this you may know, with equal certainty as by a voice from heaven, that you have not the love of God in you. Consider the disposition you entertain toward the person and office of the Son of God. "If ye had loved the Father, ye would have loved me also," was the constant argument of Jesus Christ to those Pharisees whom He addresses in the text For Jesus Christ is the express image of God: the effulgence of the divine character is attempered in Him, to suit the views of sinful humanity. In the life of Jesus Christ we see how the divine Being conducts Himself in human form and in our own circumstances: we behold how He bears all the sorrows, and passes through all the temptations, of flesh and blood. Such, indeed, is the identity, so perfect the oneness of character, between the man Christ Jesus and the divine Being--that our Savior expressly assures us, "He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father; I and my Father are one." The purpose for which God was manifested in the flesh was not to reveal high speculations concerning the nature of the Deity: it was to bear our sorrows, and to die for our sins. But can you contemplate Him, thus stooping to your condition, thus mingling with every interest of your own, and not be moved by such a spectacle?--not be attracted, fixt, filled with grateful astonishment and devotion--crucified, as it were, on the cross of Christ, to the flesh, and to the world? What mark, then, of our possessing no love of God can equal this, that we are without love to Jesus Christ?--that neither the visibility of His divine excellence, nor His participation of all our human sufferings, can reach our hearts and command our affections? In examining whether you love God, examine how you are affected by His benefits. These are so numerous and so distinguished that they ought to excite our most ardent gratitude: night and day they are experienced by us; they pervade every moment of our being. We know that favors from an enemy derive a taint from the hands through which they are received, and excite alienation rather than attachment: but the kindness of a friend, by constantly reminding us of himself, endears that friend more and more to our hearts; and thus, he that has no love to God receives all His favors without the least attraction toward their Author, whom he regards rather as an enemy than as a friend. But the Christian feels his love of God excited by every fresh goodness. The mercies of God have accompanied you through every stage of your journey; and they are exhibited to you in His word as stretching through a vast eternity. Are these the only benefits you can receive without gratitude, and suffer to pass unregarded How, then, can any love of God dwell in your bosom? Consider, in the next place, in what manner you are imprest by the sense of your sins. The question is not whether you have any sins,--none can admit a doubt on this point; the only inquiry is, how you are affected by those sins? Are they remembered by you with a sentiment of tender regret, of deep confusion and humiliation, that you should ever have so requited such infinite goodness? And is this sentiment combined with a sacred resolution to go and sin no more,--to devote yourself to the service of your divine Benefactor? If you can live without an habitual sense of penitential tenderness and reverential fear, be assured you can not love God; you have no experience of those Scripture declarations: "They shall fear the Lord and his goodness in the latter days;" "There is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayst be feared;" you know not that "the goodness of God leadeth to repentence." If the mind is softened by the love of God, all His favors serve to inflame its gratitude, and confirm its devotion to His will: but he who has no love of God in his soul, thinks of nothing but how he may escape from God's hand, and selfishly devours all His favors, without an emotion of gratitude to the Giver. Finally, let me remind you to consider how you are affected to the present world. If you could only be exempt from its afflictions, would you wish it to be your lasting home? If you could surround yourself with all its advantages and enjoyments, would you be content to dwell in it forever? Yet you know that it is a place of separation and exile from the divine majesty; that it is a scene of darkness, in comparison with heaven, very faintly illuminated with the beams of His distant glory; that its inhabitant is constrained to say, "I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but mine eye hath not yet seen thee";--while heaven is the proper dwelling-place of God and His people! Could you then consent to remain here always, without ever seeing as you are seen--seeing light in His light--without ever beholding His glory; without ever drinking at the fountain, and basking in that presence which is fulness of joy, and life forevermore? always to remain immersed in the shadows of time--entombed in its corruptible possessions? never to ascend up on high to God and Christ and the glories of the eternal world? If such is the state of your spirit, you want the essential principle of a Christian--you want the love of God. The genuine Christian, the lover of God, is certain to feel himself a "stranger on the earth." No splendor, no emolument of this world,--not all the fascinations of sensual pleasure,--can detain his heart below the skies, or keep him from sympathizing with the sentiment of the psalmist: "As for me, I shall behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I wake in thy likeness." I do not ask whether you have, at present, "a desire to depart": perhaps you may not be as yet sufficiently prepared and established to entertain so exalted a desire; but still, if you have received a new heart, you will deprecate nothing so much as having your portion in this life,--as having your eternal abode on earth. It is the character of faith to dwell much in eternity: the apostle says, in the name of all real believers, "We look not at the things that are seen, but the things that are not seen; for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal." And now, my brethren, supposing the preceding remarks to have produced in any of you the conviction that you have not the love of God in you, permit me very briefly to point out the proper improvement of such a conviction. First, it should be accompanied with deep humiliation. If you labored under the privation of some bodily organ, requisite to the discharge of an animal function, you would feel it as in some degree a humiliating circumstance; but what would be any defect of this kind, however serious, in comparison with that great want under which you labor--the want of piety, the calamity of a soul estranged from the love of God! What are the other subjects of humiliation compared with this--a moral fall, a spiritual death in sin: and this, unless it be removed, the sure precursor of the second death--eternal ruin! "This is a lamentation indeed, and it shall be for a lamentation." Suppose the children of a family, reared and provided for by the most affectionate of parents, to rise up in rebellion against their father, and cast off all the feelings of filial tenderness and respect; would any qualities those children might possess, any appearance of virtue they might exhibit in other respects, compensate for such an unnatural, such an awful deformity of character? Transfer this representation to your conduct in relation to God: "If I," says He, "am a father, where is my fear? if I am a master, where is my honor?" "Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth! I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me: the ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib: but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider." And let your humiliation be accompanied with concern and alarm. To be alienated from the great Origin of being; to be severed, or to sever yourself from the essential Author and element of all felicity, must be a calmity which none can understand, an infinite wo which none can measure or conceive. If the stream is cut off from the fountain, it soon ceases to flow, and its waters are dissipated in the air: and if the soul is cut off from God, it dies! Its vital contact with God,--its spiritual union with the Father of spirits through the blest Mediator, is the only life and beauty of the immortal soul. All, without this, are dead--"dead in trespasses and sins"! A living death--a state of restless wanderings, and unsatisfied desires! What a condition theirs! And, oh! what a prospect for such, when they look beyond this world! who will give them a welcome when they enter an eternal state? What reception will they meet with, and where? What consolation amid their losses and their sufferings, but that of the fellow-sufferers plunged in the same abyss of ruin? Impenitent sinners are allied to evil spirits, they have an affinity with the kingdom of darkness; and when they die, they are emphatically said to "go to their own place"! This is an awful state for any to be in at present; but, blest be God, it is not yet a hopeless situation. Let no person say, "I find by what I have heard, that I do not love God, and therefore I can entertain no hope." There is a way of return and recovery open to all. Jesus Christ, my dear brethren, proclaims to you all, "I am the way. No man can come to the Father but by me":--but every one that will may come by this new and living way; and, if you lose life eternal, you lose it because--according to his words just before the text--because "you will not come to Christ that you may have life." If you feel the misery, deformity, and danger of your state, then listen to His invitation, and embrace His promise. See the whole weight of your guilt transferred to His cross! See how God can be at once the just and the justifier! Take of the blood of sprinkling, and be at peace! His blood cleanseth from all sin: He will send that Spirit into your heart which will manifest Him to you; and where that Spirit is, there is liberty and holy love. He is the mystical ladder, let down from heaven to earth, on which angels are continually ascending and descending, in token of an alliance established between God and man. United by faith to Jesus Christ, you shall become a habitation of God through the Spirit; the Father will make you a partaker of His love, the Son of His grace, angels of their friendship; and you shall be preserved, and progressively sanctified, until, by the last change, all remains of the great epidemic source of evils shall be forever removed from your soul; and the love of God shall constitute your eternal felicity. EVANS THE FALL AND RECOVERY OF MAN BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Christmas Evans, a Welsh Baptist preacher, was born at Isgaerwen, Cardiganshire, South Wales, in 1766. Brought up as a Presbyterian, he turned Baptist in 1788, and was ordained the following year and ministered among the Baptists in Carmaerthenshire. In 1792 he became a sort of bishop to those of his denomination in Anglesey, where he took up his residence. After a somewhat stormy experience with those he undertook to rule, he removed to Carmaerthen in 1832. He distinguished himself by his debt-raising tours, in which his eloquence brought him much success. It is said that once when he was preaching on the subject of the prodigal son, he pointed to a distant mountain as he described the father seeing him while yet a great way off, whereupon thousands in his congregation turned their heads in evident expectation of seeing the son actually coming down the hills. He died in 1838. EVANS 1766--1838 THE FALL AND RECOVERY OF MAN _For if, through the offense of one, many be dead, much more the grace of God, and the gift by grace, which is by one man, Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto many._--Romans v., 15. Man was created in the image of God. Knowledge and perfect holiness were imprest upon the very nature and faculties of his soul. He had constant access to his Maker, and enjoyed free communion with Him, on the ground of his spotless moral rectitude. But, alas! the glorious diadem is broken; the crown of righteousness is fallen. Man's purity is gone, and his happiness is forfeited. "There is none righteous; no, not one." "All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God." But the ruin is not hopeless. What was lost in Adam is restored in Christ. His blood redeems us from the bondage, and His gospel gives us back the forfeited inheritance. "For if, through the offense of one, many be dead; much more the grace of God, and the gift by grace, which is by one man, Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto many." Let us consider, first, the corruption and condemnation of man; and secondly, his gracious restoration to the favor of his offended God. I. To find the cause of man's corruption and condemnation, we must go back to Eden. The eating of the "forbidden tree" was "the offense of one," in consequence of which "many are dead." This was the "sin," the act of "disobedience," which "brought death into the world, and all our wo." It was the greatest ingratitude to the divine bounty, and the boldest rebellion against the divine sovereignty. The royalty of God was contemned; the riches of His goodness slighted; and His most desperate enemy preferred before Him, as if he were a wiser counsellor than infinite wisdom. Thus man joined in league with hell against heaven; with demons of the bottomless pit against the almighty maker and benefactor; robbing God of the obedience due to His command and the glory due to His name; worshiping the creature instead of the creator; and opening the door to pride, unbelief, enmity, and all the wicked and abominable passions. How is the "noble vine," which was planted "wholly a right seed," "turned into the degenerate plant of a strange vine"! Who can look for pure water from such a fountain? "That which is born of the flesh is flesh." All the faculties of the soul are corrupted by sin; the understanding dark; the will perverse; the affections carnal; the conscience full of shame, remorse, confusion, and mortal fear. Man is a hard-hearted and stiff-necked sinner; loving darkness rather than light, because his deeds are evil; eating sin like bread, and drinking iniquity like water; holding fast deceit, and refusing to let it go. His heart is desperately wicked; full of pride, vanity, hypocrisy, covetousness, hatred of truth, and hostility to all that is good. This depravity is universal. Among the natural children of Adam, there is no exemption from the original taint. "The whole world lieth in wickedness." "We are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousness is as filthy rags." The corruption may vary in the degrees of development, in different persons; but the elements are in all, and their nature is everywhere the same; the same in the blooming youth, and the withered sire; in the haughty prince, and the humble peasant; in the strongest giant, and the feeblest invalid. The enemy has "come in like a flood." The deluge of sin has swept the world. From the highest to the lowest, there is no health or moral soundness. From the crown of the head to the soles of the feet, there is nothing but wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores. The laws, and their violation, and the punishments everywhere invented for the suppression of vice, prove the universality of the evil. The bloody sacrifices, and various purifications, of the pagans, show the handwriting of remorse upon their consciences; proclaim their sense of guilt, and their dread of punishment. None of them are free from the fear which hath torment, whatever their efforts to overcome it, and however great their boldness in the service of sin and Satan. "Menel Tekel!" is written on every human heart. "Wanting! wanting!" is inscribed on heathen fanes and altars; on the laws, customs, and institutions of every nation; and on the universal consciousness of mankind. This inward corruption manifests itself in outward actions. "The tree is known by its fruit." As the smoke and sparks of the chimney show that there is fire within; so all the "filthy conversation" of men, and all "the unfruitful works of darkness" in which they delight, evidently indicate the pollution of the source whence they proceed. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." The sinner's speech betrayeth him. "Evil speaking" proceeds from malice and envy. "Foolish talking and jesting" are evidence of impure and trifling thoughts. The mouth full of cursing and bitterness, the throat an open sepulcher, the poison of asps under the tongue, the feet swift to shed blood, destruction and misery in their paths, and the way of peace unknown to them, are the clearest and amplest demonstration that men "have gone out of the way," "have together become unprofitable." We see the bitter fruit of the same corruption in robbery, adultery, gluttony, drunkenness, extortion, intolerance, persecution, apostasy, and every evil work--in all false religions; the Jew, obstinately adhering to the carnal ceremonies of an abrogated law; the Mohammedan, honoring an impostor, and receiving a lie for a revelation from God; the papist, worshiping images and relics, praying to departed saints, seeking absolution from sinful men, and trusting in the most absurd mummeries for salvation; the pagan, attributing divinity to the works of his own hands, adoring idols of wood and stone, sacrificing to malignant demons, casting his children into the fire or the flood as an offering to imaginary deities, and changing the glory of the incorruptible God into the likeness of the beast and the worm. "For these things' sake the wrath of God cometh upon the children of disobedience." They are under the sentence of the broken law; the malediction of eternal justice. "By the offense of one, judgment came upon all men unto condemnation." "He that believeth not is condemned already." "The wrath of God abideth on him." "Curst is every one that continueth not in all things written in the book of the law, to do them." "Wo unto the wicked; it shall be ill with him, for the reward of his hands shall be given him." "They that plow iniquity, and sow wickedness, shall reap the same." "Upon the wicked the Lord shall rain fire, and snares, and a horrible tempest; this shall be the portion of their cup." "God is angry with the wicked every day; if he turn not he will whet his sword; he hath bent his bow, and made it ready." Who shall describe the misery of fallen man! His days, tho few, are full of evil. Trouble and sorrow press him forward to the tomb. All the world, except Noah and his family, are drowning in the deluge. A storm of fire and brimstone is fallen from heaven upon Sodom and Gomorrah. The earth is opening her mouth to swallow up alive Korah, Dathan, and Abiram. Wrath is coming upon "the beloved city," even "wrath unto the uttermost." The tender and delicate mother is devouring her darling infant. The sword of men is executing the vengeance of God. The earth is emptying its inhabitants into the bottomless pit. On every hand are "confused noises, and garments rolled in blood." Fire and sword fill the land with consternation and dismay. Amid the universal devastation wild shrieks and despairing groans fill the air. God of mercy! is Thy ear heavy, that Thou canst not hear? or Thy arm shortened, that Thou canst not save? The heavens above are brass, and the earth beneath is iron; for Jehovah is pouring His indignation upon His adversaries, and He will not pity or spare. Verily, "the misery of man is great upon him"! Behold the wretched fallen creature! The pestilence pursues him. The leprosy cleaves to him. Consumption is wasting him. Inflammation is devouring his vitals. Burning fever has seized upon the very springs of life. The destroying angel has overtaken the sinner in his sins. The hand of God is upon him. The fires of wrath are kindling about him, drying up every well of comfort, and scorching all his hopes to ashes. Conscience is chastizing him with scorpions. See how he writhes! Hear how he shrieks for help! Mark what agony and terror are in his soul, and on his brow! Death stares him in the face, and shakes at him his iron spear. He trembles, he turns pale, as a culprit at the bar, as a convict on the scaffold. He is condemned already. Conscience has pronounced the sentence. Anguish has taken hold upon him. Terrors gather in battle array about him. He looks back, and the storms of Sinai pursue him; forward, and hell is moved to meet him; above, and the heavens are on fire; beneath, and the world is burning. He listens, and the judgment trump is calling; again, and the brazen chariots of vengeance are thundering from afar; yet again, the sentence penetrates his soul with anguish unspeakable--"Depart! ye accurst! into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels!" Thus, "by one man, sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned." They are "dead in trespasses and sins," spiritually dead, and legally dead; dead by the mortal power of sin, and dead by the condemnatory sentence of the law; and helpless as sheep to the slaughter, they are driven fiercely on by the ministers of wrath to the all-devouring grave and the lake of fire! But is there no mercy? Is there no means of salvation? Hark! amid all this prelude of wrath and ruin, comes a still small voice, saying: "Much more the grace of God, and the gift by grace, which is by one man, Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto many." II. This brings us to our second topic, man's gracious recovery to the favor of his offended God. I know not how to present to you this glorious work, better than by the following figure. Suppose a vast graveyard, surrounded by a lofty wall, with only one entrance, which is by a massive iron gate, and that is fast bolted. Within are thousands and millions of human beings, of all ages and classes, by one epidemic disease bending to the grave. The graves yawn to swallow them, and they must all perish. There is no balm to relieve, no physician there. Such is the condition of man as a sinner. All have sinned; and it is written, "The soul that sinneth shall die." But while the unhappy race lay in that dismal prison, Mercy came and stood at the gate, and wept over the melancholy scene, exclaiming--"Oh, that I might enter! I would bind up their wounds; I would relieve their sorrows; I would save their souls!" An embassy of angels, commissioned from the court of heaven to some other world, paused at the sight, and heaven forgave that pause. Seeing Mercy standing there, they cried:--"Mercy! canst thou not enter? Canst thou look upon that scene and not pity? Canst thou pity, and not relieve?" Mercy replied: "I can see!" and in her tears she added, "I can pity, but I can not relieve!" "Why canst thou not enter?" inquired the heavenly host. "Oh!" said Mercy, "Justice has barred the gate against me, and I must not--can not unbar it!" At this moment, Justice appeared, as if to watch the gate. The angels asked, "Why wilt thou not suffer Mercy to enter?" He sternly replied: "The law is broken, and it must be honored! Die they, or Justice must!" Then appeared a form among the angelic band like unto the Son of God. Addressing Himself to Justice, He said: "What are thy demands?" Justice replied: "My demands are rigid; I must have ignominy for their honor, sickness for their health, death for their life. Without the shedding of blood there is no remission!" "Justice," said the Son of God, "I accept thy terms! On me be this wrong! Let Mercy enter, and stay the carnival of death!" "What pledge dost thou give for the performance of these conditions?" "My word; my oath!" "When wilt thou perform them?" "Four thousand years hence, on the hill of Calvary, without the walls of Jerusalem." The bond was prepared, and signed and sealed in the presence of attendant angels. Justice was satisfied, the gate was opened, and Mercy entered, preaching salvation in the name of Jesus. The bond was committed to patriarchs and prophets. A long series of rites and ceremonies, sacrifices and obligations, was instituted to perpetuate the memory of that solemn deed. At the close of the four thousandth year, when Daniel's "seventy weeks" were accomplished, Justice and Mercy appeared on the hill of Calvary. "Where," and Justice, "is the Son of God?" "Behold him," answered Mercy, "at the foot of the hill!" And there He came, bearing His own cross, and followed by His weeping church. Mercy retired, and stood aloof from the scene. Jesus ascended the hill like a lamb for the sacrifice. Justice presented the dreadful bond, saying, "This is the day on which this article must be canceled." The Redeemer took it. What did He do with it? Tear it to pieces, and scatter it to the winds? No! He nailed it to His cross, crying, "It is finished!" The victim ascended the altar. Justice called on Holy Fire to come down and consume the sacrifice. Holy Fire replied: "I come! I will consume the sacrifice, and then I will burn up the world!" It fell upon the Son of God, and rapidly consumed His humanity; but when it touched His deity, it expired. Then was there darkness over the whole land, and an earthquake shook the mountain; but the heavenly host broke forth in rapturous song--"Glory to God in the highest! on earth peace! good will to man!" Thus grace has abounded, and the free gift has come upon all, and the gospel has gone forth proclaiming redemption to every creature. "By grace ye are saved, through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God; not of works, lest any man should boast." By grace ye are loved, redeemed, and justified. By grace ye are called, converted, reconciled and sanctified. Salvation is wholly of grace. The plan, the process, the consummation are all of grace. "Where sin abounded, grace hath much more abounded." "Through the offense of one, many were dead." And as men multiplied, the offense abounded. The waters deluged the world, but could not wash away the dreadful stain. The fire fell from heaven, but could not burn out the accurst plague. The earth opened her mouth, but could not swallow up the monster sin. The law thundered forth its threat from the thick darkness on Sinai, but could not restrain, by all its, terrors, the children of disobedience. Still the offense abounded, and multiplied as the sands on the seashore. It waxed bold, and pitched its tents on Calvary, and nailed the Lawgiver to a tree. But in that conflict sin received its mortal wound. The victim was the victor. He fell, but in His fall He crusht the foe. He died unto sin, but sin and death were crucified upon His cross. Where sin abounded to condemn, grace hath much more abounded to justify. Where sin abounded to corrupt, grace hath much more abounded to purify. Where sin abounded to harden, grace hath much more abounded to soften and subdue. Where sin abounded to imprison men, grace hath much more abounded to proclaim liberty to the captives. Where sin abounded to break the law and dishonor the Lawgiver, grace hath much more abounded to repair the breach and efface the stain. Where sin abounded to consume the soul as with unquenchable fire and a gnawing worm, grace hath much more abounded to extinguish the flame and heal the wound. Grace hath abounded! It hath established its throne on the merit of the Redeemer's sufferings. It hath put on the crown, and laid hold of the golden scepter, and spoiled the dominion of the prince of darkness, and the gates of the great cemetery are thrown open, and there is the beating of a new life-pulse throughout its wretched population and immortality is walking among the tombs! This abounding grace is manifested in the gift of Jesus Christ, by whose mediation our reconciliation and salvation are effected. With Him, believers are dead unto sin, and alive unto God. Our sins were slain at His cross, and buried in His tomb. His resurrection hath opened our graves, and given us an assurance of immortality. "God commendeth his love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us; much more, then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from the wrath through him; for if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life." "The carnal mind is enmity against God; it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be." Glory to God, for the death of His Son, by which this enmity is slain, and reconciliation is effected between the rebel and the law! This was the unspeakable gift that saved us from ruin; that wrestled with the storm, and turned it away from the devoted head of the sinner. Had all the angels of God attempted to stand between these two conflicting seas, they would have been swept to the gulf of destruction. "The blood of bulls and goats, on Jewish altars slain," could not take away sin, could not pacify the conscience. But Christ, the gift of divine grace, "Paschal Lamb by God appointed," a "sacrifice of nobler name and richer blood than they," bore our sins and carried our sorrows, and obtained for us the boon of eternal redemption. He met the fury of the tempest, and the floods went over His head; but His offering was an offering of peace, calming the storms and the waves, magnifying the law, glorifying its Author, and rescuing its violator from the wrath and ruin. Justice hath laid down his sword at the foot of the cross, and amity is restored between heaven and earth. Hither, O ye guilty! come and cast away your weapons of rebellion! Come with your bad principles and wicked actions; your unbelief, and enmity, and pride; and throw them off at the Redeemer's feet! God is here waiting to be gracious. He will receive you; He will east all your sins behind His back, into the depths of the sea; and they shall be remembered against you no more forever. By Heaven's "unspeakable gift," by Christ's invaluable atonement, by the free, infinite grace of the Father and Son, we persuade you, we beseech you, we entreat you, "be ye reconciled to God"! It is by the work of the Holy Spirit with us that we obtain a personal interest in the work wrought on Calvary for us. If our sins are canceled, they are also crucified. If we are reconciled in Christ, we fight against our God no more. This is the fruit of faith. "With the heart man believeth unto righteousness." May the Lord inspire in every one of us that saving principle! But those who have been restored to the divine favor may sometimes be cast down and dejected. They have passed through the sea, and sung praises on the shore of deliverance; but there is yet between them and Canaan "a waste howling wilderness," a long and weary pilgrimage, hostile nations, fiery serpents, scarcity of food, and the river of Jordan. Fears within and fightings without, they may grow discouraged, and yield to temptation and murmur against God, and desire to return to Egypt. But fear not, thou worm Jacob! Reconciled by the death of Christ; much more, being reconciled, thou shalt be saved by His life. His death was the price of our redemption; His life insures liberty to the believer. If by His death He brought you through the Red Sea in the night, by His life He can lead you through the river Jordan in the day. If by His death He delivered you from the iron furnace in Egypt, by His life He can save you from all perils of the wilderness. If by His death He conquered Pharaoh, the chief foe, by His life He can subdue Sihon, king of the Amorites, and Og, the king of Bashan. "We shall be saved by his life." Because He liveth, we shall live also. "Be of good cheer!" The work is finished; the ransom is effected; the kingdom of heaven is open to all believers. "Lift up your heads and rejoice," "ye prisoners of hope!" There is no debt unpaid, no devil unconquered, no enemy within your hearts that has not received a mortal wound! "Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ!" SCHLEIERMACHER CHRIST'S RESURRECTION AN IMAGE OF OUR NEW LIFE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Friedrich Ernst Daniel Schleiermacher, German theologian and philosopher, was born at Breslau in 1768. He was brought up in a religious home and in 1787 went to the University of Halle, and in 1789 became a Privat-Docent. In 1794 he was ordained and preached successively at Landsberg and Berlin. The literary and philosophical side of his intellect developed itself in sympathy with the Romanticists, but he never lost his passion for religion, a subject on which he published five discurses in 1799. We find in them a trace of the pantheism of Spinoza. His translation of Plato, accomplished between 1804 and 1806, gave him high rank as a classical scholar. In 1817 he joined the movement toward the union of the Lutheran and Reformed churches. As a preacher he was unprepossessing in appearance, being sickly and hunchbacked, but his simplicity of manner, and his clear, earnest style endeared him to many thousands. He died in Berlin in 1834. SCHLEIERMACHER 1768--1834 CHRIST'S RESURRECTION AN IMAGE OF OUR NEW LIFE _As Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we should walk in newness of life._--Romans vi., 4. It is natural, my friends, that the glorious festival of our Savior's resurrection should attract the thoughts of believers to a far remote time, and that it should make them rejoice to think of the time when they shall be with Him who, after He had risen from the dead, returned to His and our Father. But the apostle, in the words of our text, recalls us from what is far off to what is close to us--to the immediate present of our life here. He takes hold of what is the most immediate concern, of what we are at once to share in and which is to form us, even here, into the likeness of Christ's resurrection. We are buried with Him, He says, unto death, that as He was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we also might walk in newness of life. And this new life is that which, as the Lord Himself says, all who believe in Him possess even now as having passed through death to life. The apostle compares this with those glorious days of our Lord's resurrection; and how could we more appropriately keep this feast--a feast in which, above all others, many Christians draw renewed strength for this new life from the most intimate union with our heavenly Head--how could we better celebrate it than by endeavoring to receive this directly for ourselves from the words of the apostle? Let us then, according to the teaching of these words, consider the resurrection life of our Lord, as the apostle presents it to us, as a glorious, tho it may be unattainable, model of the new life in which we are all to walk through Him. 1. This new life is like that of our risen Savior, first, in the manner of His resurrection. In order to appear to His disciples in that glorified form, which already bore in it the indications of the eternal and immortal glory, it was necessary that the Savior should pass through the pains of death. It was not an easy transformation; it was necessary for Him, tho not to see corruption, yet to have the shadow of death pass over Him; and friends and enemies vied with each other in trying to retain Him in the power of the grave; the friends rolling a stone before it, to keep the beloved corpse in safety, the enemies setting a watch lest it should be taken away. But when the hour came which the Father had reserved in His own power, the angel of the Lord appeared and rolled away the stone from the tomb, and the watch fled, and at the summons of omnipotence life came back into the dead form. Thus, my friends, we know what is the new life that is to be like the resurrection life of the Lord. A previous life must die; the apostle calls it the body of sin, the law of sin in our members, and this needs no lengthened discussion. We all know and feel that this life, which Scripture calls a being dead in sins, pleasant and splendid as may be the form it often assumes, is yet nothing but what the mortal body of the Savior also was, an expression and evidence of the power of death, because even the fairest and strongest presentation of this kind lacks the element of being imperishable. Thus with the mortal body of the Savior, and thus also with the natural life of man, which is as yet not a life from God. And this our old man must die a violent death in the name of the law, such as the Savior died, not without severe suffering and painful wounds. For if the body of sin dies out in a man of itself, through satiety of earthly things, and because no excitement can any longer affect his exhausted powers, that is a death from which we see no new life proceed. The power of sin must be slain in a man by violence; a man must go through the torture of self-knowledge, showing him the contrast between his wretched condition and the higher life to which he is called; he must hear the cry, and accept it as an irrevocable sentence; that an end is to be put to this life; he must groan and almost sink under the preparations for the execution of that sentence; all his accustomed habits of life must cease; he must be conscious of the wish that he were safely through it all, and it were at an end. And when he has yielded up the old life to a welcome death, and the old man is crucified with Christ, then the world, which knows nothing better than that previous life, if it only goes on well and easily, uses all kinds of efforts to hinder the rising up of the new life, some of them well-meaning, others self-interested and therefore hostile. Some, with good intentions, like those friends of the Savior, consult together, and try all in their power, keeping away all extraneous influences, to preserve at least the appearance of their friend from being defaced, and tho no joyful movement can ever again be awakened, to preserve the form of the old life. Others, seeking their own interest and pleasure in a way by which they almost certainly accuse themselves, try to prevent an abuse being practised in this state of things, and also to guard against the gay, merry life which they lead, and into which they like so much to lead others, being brought into contempt by a question of a new life arising after this dying off of the old man, when, as they think, there is really nothing else and nothing better here on earth and when it is a vain pretense for some to assert that they know this new life, and a mischievous delusion for others to attempt attaining it. Therefore wherever they perceive such a state of things, they have their spies to watch against every deception that might be practised about such a new life, or at least at once to discover and publish what kind of delusions prevail in connection with it. But when the hour has come which the Father has kept in His own power, then in one form or another His life-bringing angel appears to such a soul. Yet how little do we know about what part the angel had in the Savior's resurrection! We do not know if the Savior saw him or not; we can not determine the moment at which he rolled away the stone from the tomb and the reanimated Savior came forth; no one witnessed it, and the only persons of whom we are told that they might have been able to see it with their bodily eyes were smitten with blindness. And in like manner, neither do we know how the soul, lying, so to speak, in the tomb of self-destruction, is wrought upon by the angel of the Lord in order to call forth the life of God in it. It arises unseen in that grave-like silence, and can not be perceived until it is actually present; what is properly the beginning of it is hidden, as every beginning usually is, even from him to whom the life is imparted. But this is certain, as the apostle says, that the Lord was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, and thus also, according to the words of the Savior, no man comes to the Son except the Father draw him; that same glory of the Father, which then called forth the Savior from the tomb, still awakens in the soul that has died to sin the new life, like the resurrection life of the Lord. Indeed, among all the proofs of the Father's glory in heaven and earth, there is none greater than this, that he has no pleasure in the death-like condition of the sinner, but that at some time or another the almighty, mysterious, life-giving call sounds in his ears--Arise and live. 2. And, secondly, this new life resembles its type and ideal, the resurrection life of Christ, not only in being risen from death, but also in its whole nature, way and manner. First, in this respect, that tho a new life, it is, nevertheless, the life of the same man, and in the closest connection with his former life. Thus, with our Savior; He was the same, and was recognized by His disciples as the same, to their great joy; His whole appearance was the very same; even in the glory of His resurrection He bore the marks of His wounds as a remembrance of His sufferings and as the tokens of His death; and the remembrance of His former state was most closely and constantly present with Him. And just so it is with the new life of the Spirit. If the old man has died in sin, and we now live in Christ, and with Him in God, yet we are the same persons that we were before. As the resurrection of the Lord was no new creation, but the same man, Jesus, who had gone down into the grave, come forth again from it; so in the soul before it died the death which leads to life in God, there must have lain the capability of receiving that life when the body of sin should die and perish; and that life is developed in the same human soul amid the same outward circumstances as before, and with its other powers and faculties remaining unchanged. We are entirely the same persons, only that the fire of the higher life is kindled in us, and also that we all bear the signs of death, and that the remembrance of our former state is present with us. Yes, in manifold ways we are often reminded of what we were and what we did before the call to new life sounded in our hearts; and it is not so easy to efface the scars of the wounds, and the numberless traces of the pains under which the old man had to die that the new man might live. And as the glad faith of the disciples rested on the very fact that they recognized the Lord as being, in the glory of His resurrection, the same person that He was before; so also in us, the confidence in this new life, as a permanent and now natural state with us, rests only on this--that we recognize ourselves in it as the same persons that we were before; that there are the same faculties, lower and higher, of the human soul, which formerly served sin, but are now created anew as instruments of righteousness. Indeed, all the traces of that death, as well as of the former life, make us more vividly conscious of the great change that the life-giving call of God has produced in us, and call for the most heartfelt gratitude. And as the Savior was the same person in the days of His resurrection, so His life was also again of course a vigorous and active life; indeed, we might almost say it bore the traces of humanity, without which it could be no image of our new life, even in this, that it gradually grew stronger and acquired new powers. When the Savior first appeared to Mary, He said, as if His new life had been, as it were, timid and sensitive, "Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended to my God and your God." But after a few days He showed Himself to Thomas, and bade him boldly touch Him, put his hand in the Master's side, and his fingers into the marks left by the nails of the cross, so that He did not shrink from being touched even on the most sensitive spots. And also even in the earliest days, and as if the new life were to be fully strengthened by doing so, we find Him walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus, and from Emmaus back to Jerusalem, as well as going before His disciples into Galilee, and leading them back to Jerusalem, where He then ascended to heaven in their sight. And as He thus walked among them, living a life with them, human in every part, and exercising a human influence on them; so also His most important business was to talk with them of the kingdom of God, to reprove and rouse them up from their slowness of heart, and to open the eyes of their minds. Now so it is, my friends, with our new life--that is like the resurrection life of the Lord. Oh, how very gradually it gains its faculties in us, grows and becomes strong, only bearing still more than the new life of the Lord the traces of earthly imperfection. I can appeal on this point to the feeling of us all, for assuredly it is the same in all. How intermittent at first are the manifestations of this new life, and how limited the sphere of its action! How long does it retain its sensitive spots, which can not be touched without pain, or even without injurious consequences, and those are always the places in which the old man has been most deeply wounded in his dying hours! But in proportion as it becomes stronger, this new life ought the less to give the impression of being a mere fantom life,--the impression the Lord's disciples had when in the first moments they thought in their fear that they saw a spirit, so that He was obliged to appeal to the testimony of all their senses, that they might perceive He was no spirit, but had flesh and bones. And thus if our new life in God consisted in mere states of feeling and emotions, which were not in the least capable of passing into action, or perhaps did not even aim at doing so; which were too peculiar and special to ourselves to be actually communicated to others or to move them with good effect, but rather might touch them with a chill sense of awe; what would such a life be but a ghost-like apparition that would no doubt excite attention, but would find no credence, and would make men uneasy in their accustomed course, but without producing any improvement in it? No, it is a life of action, and ought to be ever becoming more so; not only being nourished and growing stronger and stronger through the word of the Lord and through heart-communion with Him, to which He calls us, giving Himself to us as the meat and drink of eternal life, but every one striving to make his new life intelligible to others about him, and to influence them by it. Oh, that we had our eyes more and more steadily fixt on the risen Savior! Oh, that we could ever be learning more and more from Him to breathe out blessing, as He did when He imparted His Spirit to the disciples! Oh, that we were more and more learning like Him to encourage the foolish and slow of heart to joyful faith in the divine promises, to active obedience to the divine will of their Lord and Master, to the glad enjoyment and use of all the heavenly treasures that He has thrown open to us! Oh, that we were ever speaking more effectively to all connected with us, of the kingdom of God and of our inheritance in it, so that they might see why it was necessary for Christ to suffer, but also into what glory He has gone! These are our desires, and they are not vain desires. The life-giving Spirit, whom He has obtained for us, effects all this in each in the measure that pleases Him; and if once the life of God is kindled in the human soul if we have once, as the apostle says, become like Him in His resurrection, then His powers are also more and more abundantly and gloriously manifested in us through the efficacy of His Spirit for the common good. But along with all this activity and strength, the life of the risen Savior was yet, in another sense, a secluded and hidden life. It is probable that when, in order to show Himself to His disciples, He went here and there from one part of the land to another, he was seen by many besides them, who had known Him in His previous life. How could it be otherwise? But the eyes of men were holden, that they did not recognize Him; and He made Himself known only to those who belonged to Him in faithful love. At the same time, however, He said to them, Blest are they who do not see, yet believe! And what was the little number of those who were counted worthy of seeing Him, even if we add to them the five hundred whom Paul mentions, compared with the number of those who afterward believed in their testimony to the Lord's resurrection? And thus it is also, my friends, with the new life in which we walk, even if it is, as it ought to be, strong and vigorous, and ever at work for the kingdom of God; yet it is at the same time an unknown and hidden life, unrecognized by and hidden from the world, whose eyes are holden; and he who should set himself to force the knowledge of it upon them, who should hit upon extraordinary proceedings in order to attract their attention to the difference between the life of sin and the resurrection life, would not be walking in the likeness of the Lord's resurrection. As the people in the time of Christ had opportunity enough to inquire about His resurrection, in seeing how His disciples continued to hold together, so our neighbors also see our close alliance, which has nothing to do with the affairs of this world; and if they, because of this, inquire about what unites us, the answer will not be lacking to them. But our inner history we will as little thrust upon them as the risen Christ thrust His presence on those who had slain Him, and who had therefore no desire to see Him. Instead of this, as He showed Himself only to His own, we also will make known our inner life only to those who are just in the same way our own; who, glowing with the same love, and cheered by the same faith, can tell us in return how the Lord has revealed Himself to them. Not by any means as if we followed some mysterious course, and that those only whose experiences had been entirely alike should separate themselves into little exclusive groups; for even the days of the Lord's resurrection present examples of various kinds of experience, and of one common inner fellowship connected with them all. And not only so, but even those who as yet have experienced nothing at all are not sent empty away. Only they must first become aware, by what they see without our thrusting it upon them, that here a spirit is breathing to which they are strangers, that here is manifested a life as yet unknown to them. Then will we, as was done then, lead them by the word of our testimony to the foundation of this new life; and as, when the word of preaching pierced men's hearts, when to some of them the old man began to appear as he really is, and they felt the first pangs that precede the death of the sinful man, there also sprang up faith in the resurrection of Him whom they had themselves crucified; so will it always be with the knowledge of the new life proceeding from Him who has risen. Therefore let us have no anxiety; the circle of those who recognize this life will always be widening, just because they are beginning to share in it. And as soon as even the slightest premonition of it arises in a man's soul, as soon as he has come only so far as to be no longer pleased and satisfied with the perishing and evil things of the world, as soon as his soul absorbs even the first ray of heavenly light, then his eyes are opened, so that he recognizes this life, and becomes aware what a different life it is to serve righteousness, from living in the service of sin. 3. And lastly, my friends, we can not feel all these comforting and glorious things in which our new life resembles the resurrection life of our Lord, without being at the same time, on another side, moved to sorrow by this resemblance. For if we put together all that the evangelists and apostles of the Lord have preserved for us about His resurrection life, we still can not out of it all form an entirely consecutive history. There are separate moments and hours, separate conversations and actions, and then the Risen One vanishes again from the eyes that look for Him; in vain we ask where He can have tarried, we must wait till He appears again. Not that in Himself there was anything of this broken or uncertain life, but as to our view of it, it is and can not be but so; and we try in vain to penetrate into the intervals between those detached moments and hours. Well, and is it not, to our sorrow, with the new life that is like Christ's resurrection life? I do not mean that this life is limited to the few hours of social worship and prayer, glorious and profitable as they are; for in that case there would be cause to fear that it was a mere pretense; nor to the services, always but small and desultory, that each of us, actively working through the gifts of the Spirit, accomplishes, as it were, visibly and tangibly according to his measure, for the kingdom of God. In manifold ways besides these we become conscious of this new life; there are many quieter and secret moments in which it is strongly felt, tho only deep in our inmost heart. But notwithstanding this, I think all, without exception, must confess that we are by no means conscious of this new life as an entirely continuous state; on the contrary, each of us loses sight of it only too often, not only among friends, among disturbances and cares, but amid the commendable occupations of this world. But this experience, my dear friends, humbling as it is, ought not to make us unbelieving, as if perhaps our consciousness of being a new creature in Christ were a delusion, and what we had regarded as indications of this life were only morbid and overstrained emotions. As the Lord convinced His disciples that He had flesh and bones, so we may all convince ourselves and each other that this is an actual life; but in that case we must believe that, tho in a hidden way and not always present to our consciousness, yet it is always in existence, just as the Lord was still in existence even at the times when He did not appear to His disciples; and had neither returned to the grave, nor as yet ascended to heaven. Only let us not overlook this difference. In the case of Christ we do not apprehend it as a natural and necessary thing that during those forty days He led a life apparently so interrupted; but each of us must easily understand how, as the influence of this new life on our outward ways can only gradually become perceptible, it should often and for a long time be quite hidden from us, especially when we are very busy with outward work, and our attention is taken up with it. But this is an imperfection from which as time goes on we should be always becoming more free. Therefore always go back, my friends, to Him who is the only fountain of this spiritual life! If, ever and anon, we can not find it in ourselves, we always find it in Him, and it is always pouring forth afresh from Him the Head to us His members. If every moment in which we do not perceive it is a moment of longing, as soon as we become conscious of the void, then it is also a moment in which the Risen One appears to our spirit, and breathes on us anew with His life-giving power. And thus drawing only from Him, we shall attain to having His heavenly gifts becoming in us more and more an inexhaustible, continually flowing fountain of spiritual and eternal life. For this He rose from the dead by the glory of the Father, that we should be made into the likeness of His resurrection. That was finished in His return to the Father; our new life is to become more and more His and the Fathers return into the depths of our souls; there they desire to make their abode; and the life of God is to be ever assuming a more continuous, active and powerful form in us, that our life in the service of righteousness may become, and continue even here, according to the Lord's promise, an eternal life. MASON MESSIAH'S THRONE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Mitchell Mason, the eminent divine of the Reformed Presbyterian Church, was born in New York City in 1770. He completed his studies and took his degree at Columbia College and thence proceeded to take a theological course at Edinburgh. Ordained in 1793, he took charge of the Cedar Street Church, New York City, of which his father had been pastor. In 1807 he became editor of the _Christian Herald_, and in 1821 was made president of Dickinson College, Carlisle, Pennsylvania. He died in 1829. MASON 1770--1829 MESSIAH'S THRONE _Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever_.--Heb. i., 18. In the all-important argument which occupies this epistle, Paul assumes, what the believing Hebrews had already profest, that Jesus of Nazareth is the true Messiah. To prepare them for the consequences of their own principle--a principle involving nothing less than the abolition of their law, the subversion of their state, the ruin of their city, the final extinction of their carnal hopes--he leads them to the doctrine of their Redeemer's person, in order to explain the nature of his offices, to evince the value of his spiritual salvation, and to show, in both, the accomplishment of their economy which was now "ready to vanish away." Under no apprehension of betraying the unwary into idolatrous homage by giving to the Lord Jesus greater glory than is due unto His name, the apostle sets out with ascribing to Him excellence and attributes which belong to no creature. Creatures of most elevated rank are introduced; but it is to display, by contrast, the preeminence of Him who is "the brightness of the Father's glory and the express image of his person." Angels are great in might and in dignity; but "unto them hath he not put in subjection the world to come. Unto which of them said he, at any time, Thou art my son?" To which of them, "Sit thou at my right hand." He saith they are spirits, "ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation. But unto the Son," in a style which annihilates competition and comparison--"unto the Son, he saith, Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever." Brethren, if the majesty of Jesus is the subject which the Holy Ghost selected for the encouragement and consolation of His people, when He was shaking the earth and the heavens, and diffusing His gospel among the nations, can it be otherwise than suitable and precious to us on this occasion? Shall it not expand our views, and warm our hearts, and nerve our arm in our efforts to exalt His fame? Let me implore, then, the aid of your prayers, but far more importunately the aids of His own Spirit, while I speak of the things which concern the King: those great things contained in the text--His personal glory--His sovereign rule. His personal glory shines forth in the name by which He is revealed; a name above every name: "Thy throne, O God." ... Messiah's throne is not one of those airy fabrics which are reared by vanity and overthrown by time: it is fixt of old; it is staple, and can not be shaken, for it is the throne of God. He who sitteth on it is the Omnipotent. Universal being is in His hand. Revolution, force, fear, as applied to His kingdom, are words without meaning. Rise up in rebellion, if thou hast courage. Associate with thee the whole mass of infernal power. Begin with the ruin of whatever is fair and good in this little globe. Pass hence to pluck the sun out of his place, and roll the volume of desolation through the starry world. What hast thou done unto Him? It is the puny menace of a worm against Him whose frown is perdition. "He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh." With the stability which Messiah's Godhead communicates to His throne, let us connect the stability resulting from His Father's covenant. His throne is founded not merely in strength, but in right. God hath laid the government upon the shoulder of His holy child Jesus, and set Him upon Mount Zion as His King forever. He has promised and sworn to build up His throne to all generations; to make it endure as the days of heaven; to beat down His foes before His face, and plague them that hate Him. "But my faithfulness," adds He, "and my mercy shall be with him, and in my name shall his horn be exalted. Hath he said it, and will he not do it? Hath he spoken it, and shall it not come to pass?" Whatever disappointments rebuke the visionary projects of men, or the more crafty schemes of Satan, "the counsel of the Lord, that shall stand." The blood of sprinkling, which sealed all the promises made to Messiah, and binds down His Father's faithfulness to their accomplishment, witnesses continually in the heavenly sanctuary. "He must," therefore, "reign till he have put all his enemies under his feet." And altho the dispensation of His authority shall, upon this event, be changed, and He shall deliver it up, in its present form, to the Father, He shall still remain, in His substantial glory, a priest upon His throne, to be the eternal bond of our union, and the eternal medium of our fellowship with the living God. Seeing that the throne of our King is as immovable as it is exalted, let us with joy draw water out of that well of salvation which is opened to us in the administration of His kingdom. Here we must consider its general characters, and the means by which it operates. The general characters which I shall illustrate are the following: 1. Mystery. He is the unsearchable God, and His government must be like Himself. Facts concerning both He has graciously revealed. These we must admit upon the credit of His own testimony; with these we must satisfy our wishes and limit our inquiry. To intrude into those things which he hath not seen because God has not disclosed them, whether they relate to His arrangements for this world or the next, is the arrogance of one vainly puffed up by his fleshly mind. There are secrets in our Lord's procedure which He will not explain to us in this life, and which may not perhaps be explained in the life to come. We can not tell how He makes evil the minister of good; how He combines physical and moral agencies of different kind and order, in the production of blessings. We can not so much as conjecture what bearings the system of redemption, in every part of its process, may have upon the relations of providence in the occurrences of this moment, or of the last. Such knowledge is too wonderful for us: it is high, we can not attain it. Our Sovereign's way is in the sea, and His path in the deep waters; and His footsteps are not known. When, therefore, we are surrounded with difficulty, when we can not unriddle His conduct in particular dispensations, we must remember that He is God--that we are to "walk by faith"; and to trust Him as implicitly when we are in the valley of the shadow of death, as when His candle shines upon our heads. We must remember that it is not for us to be admitted into the cabinet of the King of kings; that creatures constituted as we are could not sustain the view of His unveiled agency; that it would confound, and scatter, and annihilate our little intellects. As often, then, as He retires from our observation, blending goodness with majesty, let us lay our hands upon our mouths and worship. This stateliness of our King can afford us no just ground of uneasiness. On the contrary, it contributes to our tranquillity. 2. For we know that if His administration is mysterious, it is also wise. "Great is our Lord, and of great power; his understanding is infinite." That infinite understanding watches over, and arranges, and directs all the affairs of His Church and of the world. We are perplexed at every step, embarrassed by opposition, lost in confusion, fretted by disappointment, and ready to conclude, in our haste, that all things are against our own good and our Master's honor. But "this is our infirmity"; it is the dictate of impatience and indiscretion. We forget the "years of the right hand of the Most High." We are slow of heart in learning a lesson which shall soothe our spirits at the expense of our pride. We turn away from the consolation to be derived from believing that tho we know not the connections and results of holy providence, our Lord Jesus knows them perfectly. With Him there is no irregularity, no chance, no conjecture. Disposed before His eye in the most luminous and exquisite order, the whole series of events occupy the very place and crisis where they are most effectually to subserve the purposes of His love. Not a moment of time is wasted, nor a fragment of action misapplied. What He does, we do not indeed know at present, but, as far as we shall be permitted to know hereafter, we shall see that his most inscrutable procedure was guided by consummate wisdom; that our choice was often as foolish as our petulance was provoking; that the success of our own wishes would have been our most painful chastisement, would have diminished our happiness, and detracted from His praise. Let us study, therefore, brethren, to subject our ignorance to His knowledge; instead of prescribing, to obey; instead of questioning, to believe: to perform our part without that despondency which betrays a fear that our Lord may neglect His, and tacitly accuses Him of a less concern than we feel for the glory of His own name. Let us not shrink from this duty as imposing too rigorous a condition upon our obedience. 3. A third character of Messiah's administration is righteousness. "The scepter of his kingdom is a right scepter." If "clouds and darkness are around about him, righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne." In the times of old, His redeemed "wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way; but, nevertheless, he led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of habitation." He loves His Church and the members of it too tenderly to lay upon them any burdens, or expose them to any trials, which are not indispensable to their good. It is right for them to go through fire and through water, that He may bring them out into a healthy place--right to endure chastening, that they may be partakers of His holiness--right to have the sentence of death in themselves, that they may trust in the living God, and that His strength may be perfect in their weakness. It is right that He should endure with much long-suffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction; that He should permit iniquity to abound, the love of many to wax cold, and the dangers of His Church to accumulate, till the interposition of His arm be necessary and decisive. In the day of final retribution, not one mouth shall be opened to complain of injustice. It will be seen that the Judge of all the earth has done right; that the works of His hands have been verity and judgment, and done, every one of them, in truth and uprightness. Let us then think not only respectfully but reverently of His dispensations, repress the voice of murmur, and rebuke the spirit of discontent; wait, in faith and patience, till He become His own interpreter, when "the heavens shall declare his righteousness, and all the people see his glory." You will anticipate me in enumerating the means which Messiah employs in the administration of His kingdom: 1. The gospel, of which Himself, as an all-sufficient and condescending Savior, is the great and affecting theme. Derided by the world, it is, nevertheless, effectual to the salvation of them who believe. "We preach Christ crucified: to the Jews a stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness; but to them who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God." The doctrine of the cross connected with evangelical ordinances--the ministry of reconciliation; the holy Sabbath; the sacraments of His covenant: briefly, the whole system of instituted worship--is the rod of the Redeemer's strength, by which He subdues sinners to Himself, rules even in the midst of His enemies, exercises His glorious authority in His Church, and exhibits a visible proof to men and angels that He is King in Zion. 2. The efficient means to which the gospel owes its success, and the name of Jesus its praise, is the agency of the Holy Ghost. Christianity is the ministration of the spirit. All real and sanctifying knowledge of the truth and love of God is from His inspiration. It was the last and best promise which the Savior made to His afflicted disciples at the moment of parting, "I will send the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth; he shall glorify me, for he shall take of mine and shall show it unto you." It is He who convinces the world of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment: who infuses resistless vigor into means otherwise weak and useless. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God, God the Spirit, to the pulling down of strongholds. Without His benediction, the ministry of an archangel would never convert one sinner from the error of his way. But when He descends with His life-giving influence from God out of heaven, then "foolish things of the world confound the wise; and weak things of the world confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, yea, and things which are not, bring to naught things which are." It is this ministration of the Spirit which renders the preaching of the gospel to men dead in trespasses and sins a reasonable service. When I am set down in the valley of vision, and view the bones, very many and very dry, and am desired to try the effects of my own ability in recalling them to life, I will fold my hands and stand mute in astonishment and despair. But when the Lord God commands me to speak in His name, my closed lips shall be opened; when He calls upon the breath from the four winds to breathe upon the slain that they may live, I will prophesy without fear, "Oh, ye dry bones, hear the words of the Lord"; and, obedient to His voice, they shall come together, bone to His bone--shall be covered with sinews and flesh--shall receive new life, and stand up upon their feet, an exceeding great army. In this manner, from the graves of nature, and the dry bones of natural men, does the Holy Spirit recruit the "armies of the living God," and make them, collectively and individually, a name, and a praise, and a glory to the Captain of their salvation. 3. Among the instruments which the Lord Jesus employs in the administration of His government, are the resources of the physical and moral world. Supreme in heaven and in earth, "upholding all things by the word of his power," the universe is His magazine of means. Nothing which acts or exists, is exempted from promoting in its own place the purposes of His kingdom. Beings rational and irrational, animate and inanimate; the heavens above, and the earth below; the obedience of sanctified, and the disobedience of unsanctified men; all holy spirits; all damned spirits; in one word, every agency, every element, every atom, are but the ministers of His will, and concur in the execution of His designs. And this He will demonstrate to the confusion of His enemies, and the joy of His people, in that great and terrible day when He shall sit upon the throne of His glory, and dispense ultimate judgment to the quick and the dead. Upon these hills of holiness the stability of Messiah's throne, and the perfect administration of His kingdom, let us take our station, and survey the prospects which rise up before the Church of God. When I look upon the magnificent scene, I can not repress the salutation, "Hail, thou that art highly favored!" She has the prospect of preservation, of increase and of triumph. The long existence of the Christian Church would be pronounced, upon common principles of reasoning, impossible. She finds in every man a natural and inveterate enemy. To encounter and overcome the unanimous hostility of the world, she boasts no political stratagem, no disciplined legions, no outward coercion of any kind. Yet her expectation is, that she shall live forever. To mock this hope and blot out her memorial from under heaven, the most furious efforts of fanaticism, the most ingenious arts of statesmen, the concentrated strength of empires, have been frequently and perseveringly applied. The blood of her sons and her daughters has streamed like water; the smoke of the scaffold and the stake, where they won the crown of martyrdom in the cause of Jesus, has ascended in thick volumes to the skies. The tribes of persecutors have sported over her woes and erected monuments, as they imagined, of her perpetual ruin. But where are her tyrants, and where their empires? The tyrants have long since gone to their own place; their names have descended upon the roll of infamy; their empires have passed, like shadows over the rock--they have successively disappeared, and left not a trace behind. But what became of the Church? She rose from her ashes fresh in beauty and in might. Celestial glory beamed around her; she dashed down the monumental marble of her foes, and they who hated her fled before her. She has celebrated the funeral of kings and kingdoms that plotted her destruction; and, with the inscriptions of their pride, has transmitted to posterity the record of their shame. How shall this phenomenon be explained? We are, at the present moment, witnesses of the fact; but who can unfold the mystery? This blest book, the book of truth and life, has made our wonder to cease. The Lord her God in the midst of her is mighty. His presence is a fountain of health, and his protection a wall of fire. He has betrothed her, in eternal covenant, to Himself. Her living head, in whom she lives, is above, and His quickening Spirit shall never depart from her. Armed with divine virtue, His gospel, secret, silent, unobserved, enters the hearts of men and sets up an everlasting kingdom. It eludes all the vigilance, and baffles all the power of the adversary. Bars and bolts, and dungeons are no obstacle to its approach. Bonds, and tortures, and death can not extinguish its influence. Let no man's heart tremble, then, because of fear. Let no man despair, in these days of rebuke and blasphemy, of the Christian cause. The ark is launched, indeed, upon the floods; the tempest sweeps along the deep; the billows break over her on every side. But Jehovah-Jesus has promised to conduct her in safety to the haven of peace. She can not be lost unless the Pilot perish. Why, then, do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing? Hear, O Zion, the word of thy God, and rejoice for the consolation. "No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper, and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord." Mere preservation, however, tho a most comfortable, is not the only hope of the Church; she has the prospect of increase. Increase--from an effectual blessing upon the means of grace in places where they are already enjoyed; the Lord saith, "I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground: I will pour my Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine offering; and they shall spring up as among the grass, as willows by the watercourses." Increase--from the diffusion of evangelical truth through pagan lands. "For behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people; but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising. Lift up thine eyes round about, and see: all they gather themselves together, they come to thee: thy sons shall come from far, and thy daughters shall be nursed at thy side. Then thou shalt see and flow together, and thy heart shall fear, and be enlarged; because the abundance of the sea shall be converted unto thee, the forces of the Gentiles shall come unto thee." Increase--from the recovery of the rejected Jews to the faith and privileges of God's dear children. Blindness in part has happened unto Israel; they have been cut off, for their unbelief, from the olive-tree. Age has followed age, and they remain to this hour spread over the face of the earth, a fearful and affecting testimony to the truth of God's word. They are without their sanctuary, without their Messiah, without the hope of their believing ancestors. But it shall not be always thus. They are still "beloved for the father's sake." When the "fulness of the Gentiles shall come in," they too shall be gathered. They shall discover, in our Jesus, the marks of the promised Messiah; and with from darkness to light, from the power of Satan unto God; it must make you meet for the inheritance of the saints, or it shall fearfully aggravate your condemnation at last. You pray, "Thy kingdom come." But is the "kingdom of God within you?" Is the Lord Jesus "in you the hope of glory?" Be not deceived. The name of Christian will not save you. Better had it been for you not to have known the way of righteousness; better to have been the most idolatrous pagan; better, infinitely better, not to have been born, than to die strangers to the pardon of the Redeemer's blood and the sanctifying virtue of His Spirit. From His throne on high He calls--calls to you, "Look unto me, and be ye saved; for I am God, and there is none else. Seek ye the Lord while he may be found; call ye upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." On the other hand, such as have fled for refuge to lay hold on the hope set before them, are commanded to be joyful in their King. He reigns, O believer, for thee. The stability of His throne is thy safety. The administration of His government is for thy good; and the precious pledge is, that He "will perfect that which concerneth thee." In all thy troubles, and in all thy joy, commit thy way unto Him. He will guard the sacred deposit. Fear not that thou shalt lack any good thing. Fear not that thou shalt be forsaken. Fear not that thou shalt fall beneath the arm of the oppressor. "He went through the fires of the pit to save thee." Sing, then, thou beloved, "Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid; for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; he also is become my salvation." And if we have "tasted that he is gracious"; if we look back with horror and transport upon the wretchedness and the wrath which we have escaped, with what anxiety shall we not hasten to the aid of our fellow men, who are sitting in "the region and shadow of death." What zeal will be too ardent, what labor too persevering, what sacrifice too costly, if, by any means, we may tell them of Jesus, and the resurrection, and the life eternal? Who shall be daunted by difficulties, or deterred by discouragement? If but one pagan shall be brought, savingly, by your instrumentality, to the knowledge of God and the kingdom of heaven, will you not have an ample recompense? Is there here a man who would give up all for lost because some favorite hope has been disappointed, or who regrets the wordly substance which he has expended on so divine an enterprise? Shame on thy coward spirit and thine avaricious heart! Do the holy Scriptures, does the experience of ages, does the nature of things justify the expectation that we shall carry war into the central regions of delusion and crime, without opposition, without trial? Show me a plan which encounters not fierce resistance from the prince of darkness and his allies in the human heart, and I will show you a plan which never came from the inspiration of God. If missionary effort suffer occasional embarrassment; if impressions on the heathen be less speedy, and powerful, and extensive than fond wishes have anticipated; if particular parts of the great system of operation be, at times, disconcerted; if any of the ministers of grace fall a sacrifice to the violence of those whom they go to bless in the name of the Lord--these are events which ought to exercise our faith and patience, to wean us from self-sufficiency, to teach where our strength lies, and where our dependence must be fixt; but not to enfeeble hope nor relax diligence. Let us not "despise the day of small things." Let us not overlook, as an important matter, the very existence of that missionary spirit which has already awakened Christians in different countries from their long and dishonorable slumbers, and bids fair to produce, in due season, a general movement of the Church upon earth. Let us not, for one instant, harbor the ungracious thought that the prayers, and tears, and wrestlings of those who make mention of the Lord, form no link in that vast chain of events by which He "will establish, and will make Jerusalem a praise in the earth." That dispensation which is most repulsive to flesh and blood, the violent death of faithful missionaries, should animate Christians with new resolution. "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." The cry of martyred blood ascends the heavens: it enters into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. It will give Him no rest till He rain down righteousness upon the land where it has been shed, and which it has sealed as a future conquest for Him who "in his majesty rides prosperously because of truth, and meekness and righteousness." For the world, indeed, and perhaps for the Church, many calamities and trials are in store, before the glory of the Lord shall be so revealed that all flesh shall see it together. "I will shake all nations," is the divine declaration--"I will shake all nations, and the desire of all nations shall come." The vials of wrath which are now running, and others which remain to be poured out, must be exhausted. The "supper of the great God" must be prepared, and his "strange work" have its course. Yet the missionary cause must ultimately succeed. It is the cause of God and shall prevail. The days, O brethren, roll rapidly on, when the shout of the isles shall swell the thunder of the continent; when the Thames and the Danube, when the Tiber and the Rhine, shall call upon Euphrates, the Ganges, and the Nile; and the loud concert shall be joined by the Hudson, the Mississippi, and the Amazon, singing with one heart and one voice, "Alleluia, salvation! The Lord God omnipotent reigneth." Comfort one another with this faith and with these words. Now, "Blest be the Lord God, the God of Israel, who only doth wondrous things. And blest be his glorious name forever: Let the whole earth be filled with his glory. Amen and amen." END OF VOL. III. 
10325	----	Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk The Gospel of the Pentateuch: A set of Parish Sermons PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION OF THE GOSPEL OF THE PENTATEUCH TO THE REV. CANON STANLEY. My Dear Stanley, I dedicate these Sermons to you, not that I may make you responsible for any doctrine or statement contained in them, but as the simplest method of telling you how much they owe to your book on the Jewish Church, and of expressing my deep gratitude to you for publishing that book at such a time as this. It has given to me (and I doubt not to many other clergymen) a fresh confidence and energy in preaching to my people the Gospel of the Old Testament as the same with that of the New; and without it, many of these Sermons would have been very different from, and I am certain very inferior to, what they are now, by the help of your admirable book. Brought up, like all Cambridge men of the last generation, upon Paley's Evidences, I had accepted as a matter of course, and as the authoritative teaching of my University, Paley's opinions as to the limits of Biblical criticism, {0a} quoted at large in Dean Milman's noble preface to his last edition of the History of the Jews; and especially that great dictum of his, 'that it is an unwarrantable, as well as unsafe rule to lay down concerning the Jewish history, that which was never laid down concerning any other, that either every particular of it must be true, or the whole false.' I do not quote the rest of the passage; first, because you, I doubt not, know it as well as I; and next, in order that if any one shall read these lines who has not read Paley's Evidences, he may be stirred up to look the passage out for himself, and so become acquainted with a great book and a great mind. A reverent and rational liberty in criticism (within the limits of orthodoxy) is, I have always supposed, the right of every Cambridge man; and I was therefore the more shocked, for the sake of free thought in my University, at the appearance of a book which claimed and exercised a licence in such questions, which I must (after careful study of it) call anything but rational and reverent. Of the orthodoxy of the book it is not, of course, a private clergyman's place to judge. That book seemed dangerous to the University of Cambridge itself, because it was likely to stir up from without attempts to abridge her ancient liberty of thought; but it seemed still more dangerous to the hundreds of thousands without the University, who, being no scholars, must take on trust the historic truth of the Bible. For I found that book, if not always read, yet still talked and thought of on every side, among persons whom I should have fancied careless of its subject, and even ignorant of its existence, but to whom I was personally bound to give some answer as to the book and its worth. It was making many unsettled and unhappy; it was (even worse) pandering to the cynicism and frivolity of many who were already too cynical and frivolous; and, much as I shrank from descending into the arena of religious controversy, I felt bound to say a few plain words on it, at least to my own parishioners. But how to do so, without putting into their heads thoughts which need be in no man's head, and perhaps shaking the very faith which I was trying to build up, was difficult to me, and I think would have been impossible to me, but for the opportune appearance of your admirable book. I could not but see that the book to which I have alluded, like most other modern books on Biblical criticism, was altogether negative; was possessed too often by that fanaticism of disbelief which is just as dangerous as the fanaticism of belief; was picking the body of the Scripture to pieces so earnestly, that it seemed to forget that Scripture had a spirit as well as a body; or, if it confessed that it had a spirit, asserting that spirit to be one utterly different from the spirit which the Scripture asserts that it possesses. For the Scripture asserts that those who wrote it were moved by the Spirit of God; that it is a record of God's dealings with men, which certain men were inspired to perceive and to write down: whereas the tendency of modern criticism is, without doubt, to assert that Scripture is inspired by the spirit of man; that it contains the thoughts and discoveries of men concerning God, which they wrote down without the inspiration of God; which difference seems to me (and I hope to others) utterly infinite and incalculable, and to involve the question of the whole character, honour, and glory of God. There is, without a doubt, something in the Old Testament, as well as in the New, quite different in kind, as well as in degree, from the sacred books of any other people: an unique element, which has had an unique effect upon the human heart, life and civilization. This remains, after all possible deductions for 'ignorance of physical science,' 'errors in numbers and chronology,' 'interpolations' 'mistakes of transcribers' and so forth, whereof we have read of late a great deal too much, and ought to care for them and for their existence, or non-existence, simply nothing at all; because, granting them all--though the greater part of them I do not grant, as far as I can trust my critical faculty--there remains that unique element, beside which all these accidents are but as the spots on the sun compared to the great glory of his life-giving light. The unique element is there; and I cannot but still believe, after much thought, that it--the powerful and working element, the inspired and Divine element which has converted and still converts millions of souls--is just that which Christendom in all ages has held it to be: the account of certain 'noble acts' of God's, and not of certain noble thoughts of man--in a word, not merely the moral, but the historic element; and that, therefore, the value of the Bible teaching depends on the truth of the Bible story. That is my belief. Any criticism which tries to rob me of that I shall look at fairly, but very severely indeed. If all that a man wants is a 'religion,' he ought to be able to make a very pretty one for himself, and a fresh one as often as he is tired of the old. But the heart and soul of man wants more than that, as it is written, 'My soul is athirst for God, even for the living God.' Those whom I have to teach want a living God, who cares for men, works for men, teaches men, punishes men, forgives men, saves men from their sins; and Him I have found in the Bible, and nowhere else, save in the facts of life which the Bible alone interprets. In the power of man to find out God I will never believe. The 'religious sentiment,' or 'God-consciousness,' so much talked of now-a-days, seems to me (as I believe it will to all practical common-sense Englishmen), a faculty not to be depended on; as fallible and corrupt as any other part of human nature; apt (to judge from history) to develop itself into ugly forms, not only without a revelation from God, but too often in spite of one--into polytheisms, idolatries, witchcrafts, Buddhist asceticisms, Phoenician Moloch-sacrifices, Popish inquisitions, American spirit- rappings, and what not. The hearts and minds of the sick, the poor, the sorrowing, the truly human, all demand a living God, who has revealed himself in living acts; a God who has taught mankind by facts, not left them to discover him by theories and sentiments; a Judge, a Father, a Saviour, and an Inspirer; in a word, their hearts and minds demand the historic truth of the Bible--of the Old Testament no less than of the New. What I needed therefore, for my guidance, was a book which should believe and confess all this, without condemning or ignoring free criticism and its results; which should make use of that criticism not to destroy but to build up; which employed a thorough knowledge of the Old Testament history, the manners of the Jews, the localities of the sacred events, to teach men not what might not be in the Bible, but what was certainly therein; which dealt with the Bible after the only fair and trustful method; that is, to consider it at first according to the theory which it sets forth concerning itself, before trying quite another theory of the commentator's own invention; and which combined with a courageous determination to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, that Christian spirit of trust, reverence and piety, without which all intellectual acuteness is but blindness and folly. All this, and more, I found in your book, enforced with a genius which needs no poor praise of mine; and I hailed its appearance at such a crisis as a happy Providence, certain that it would be, what I now know by experience it has been, a balm to many a wounded spirit, and a check to many a wandering intellect, inclined, in the rashness of youth, to throw away the truth it already had, for the sake of theories which it hoped that it might possibly verify hereafter. With your book in my hand, I have tried to write a few plain Sermons, telling plain people what they will find in the Pentateuch, in spite of all present doubts, as their fathers found it before them, and as (I trust) their children will find it after them, when all this present whirlwind of controversy has past, 'As dust that lightly rises up, And is lightly laid again.' I have told them that they will find in the Bible, and in no other ancient book, that living working God, whom their reason and conscience demand; and that they will find that he is none other than Jesus Christ our Lord. I have not apologised for or explained away the so-called 'Anthropomorphism' of the Old Testament. On the contrary, I have frankly accepted it, and even gloried in it as an integral, and I believe invaluable element of Scripture. I have deliberately ignored many questions of great interest and difficulty, because I had no satisfactory solution of them to offer; but I have said at the same time that those questions were altogether unimportant, compared with those salient and fundamental points of the Bible history on which I was preaching. And therefore I have dared to bid my people relinquish Biblical criticism to those who have time for it; and to say of it with me, as Abraham of the planets, 'O my people, I am clear of all these things! I turn myself to him who made heaven and earth.' I do not wish, believe me, to make you responsible for any statement or opinion of mine. I am painfully conscious, on reviewing for the Press Sermons which would never have been published save by special request, how imperfect, poor, and weak they seem to me--how much worse, then, they will appear to other people; how much more may be said which I have not the wit to say! But the Bible can take care of itself, I presume, without my help. All I can do is, to speak what I think, as far as I see my way; to record the obligation toward you under which I, with thousands more, now lie; and to express my hope that we shall be always found together fellow- workers in the cause of Truth, and that to you and in you may be fulfilled those noble and tender words, in which you have spoken of Samuel, and of those who work in Samuel's spirit: 'In later times, even in our own, many names spring to our recollection of those who have trodden or (in different degrees, some known, and some unknown) are treading the same thankless path in the Church of Germany, in the Church of France, in the Church of Russia, in the Church of England. Wherever they are, and whosoever they may be, and howsoever they may be neglected or assailed, or despised, they, like their great prototype and likeness in the Jewish Church, are the silent healers who bind up the wounds of their age in spite of itself; they are the good physicians who bind together the dislocated bones of a disjointed time; they are the reconcilers who turn the hearts of the children to the fathers, or of the fathers to the children. They have but little praise and reward from the partisans who are loud in indiscriminate censure and applause. But, like Samuel, they have a far higher reward, in the Davids who are silently strengthened and nurtured by them in Naioth of Ramah--in the glories of a new age which shall be ushered in peacefully and happily after they have been laid in the grave.' {0b} That such, my dear Stanley, may be your work and your destiny, is the earnest hope of Yours affectionately, C. KINGSLEY. EVERSLEY RECTORY, July 1, 1863. SERMON I. GOD IN CHRIST (Septuagesima Sunday.) GENESIS i. I. In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. We have begun this Sunday to read the book of Genesis. I trust that you will listen to it as you ought--with peculiar respect and awe, as the oldest part of the Bible, and therefore the oldest of all known works--the earliest human thought which has been handed down to us. And what is the first written thought which has been handed down to us by the Providence of Almighty God? 'In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.' How many other things, how many hundred other things, men might have thought fit to write down for those who should come after; and say-- This is the first knowledge which a man should have; this is the root of all wisdom, all power, all wealth. But God inspired Moses and the Prophets to write as they have written. They were not to tell men that the first thing to be learnt was how to be rich; nor how to be strong; nor even how to be happy: but that the first thing to be learnt was that God created the heaven and the earth. And why first? Because the first question which man asks--the question which shows he is a man and not a brute--always has been, and always will be-- Where am I? How did I get into this world; and how did this world get here likewise? And if man takes up with a wrong answer to that question, then the man himself is certain to go wrong in all manner of ways. For a lie can never do anything but harm, or breed anything but harm; and lies do breed, as fast as the blight on the trees, or the smut on the corn: only being not according to nature, or the laws of God, they do not breed as natural things do, after their kind: but, belonging to chaos, the kingdom of disorder and misrule, they breed fresh lies unlike themselves, of all strange and unexpected shapes; so that when a man takes up with one lie, there is no saying what other lie he may not take up with beside. Wherefore the first thing man has to learn is truth concerning the first human question, Where am I? How did I come here; and how did this world come here? To which the Bible answers in its first line- - 'In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.' How God created, the Bible does not tell us. Whether he created (as doubtless he could have done if he chose) this world suddenly out of nothing, full grown and complete; or whether he created it (as he creates you and me, and all living and growing things now) out of things which had been before it--that the Bible does not tell us. Perhaps if it had told us, it would have drawn away our minds to think of natural things, and what we now call science, instead of keeping our minds fixed, as it now does, on spiritual things, and above all on the Spirit of all spirits; Him of whom it is written, 'God is a Spirit' For the Bible is simply the revelation, or unveiling of God. It is not a book of natural science. It is not merely a book of holy and virtuous precepts. It is not merely a book wherein we may find a scheme of salvation for our souls. It is the book of the revelation, or unveiling of the Lord God, Jesus Christ; what he was, what he is, and what he will be for ever. Of Jesus Christ? How is he revealed in the text, 'In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth?' Thus:--If you look at the first chapter of Genesis and the beginning of the second, you will see that God is called therein by a different name from what he is called afterwards. He is called God, Elohim, The High or Mighty One or Ones. After that he is called the Lord God, Jehovah Elohim, which means properly, The High or Mighty I Am, or Jehovah, a word which I will explain to you afterwards. That word is generally translated in our Bible, as it was in the Greek, 'The Lord;' because the later Jews had such a deep reverence for the name Jehovah, that they did not like to write it or speak it: but called God simply Adonai, the Lord. So that we have three names for God in the Old Testament. First El, or Elohim, the Mighty One: by which, so Moses says, God was known to the Jews before his time, and which sets forth God's power and majesty--the first thing of which men would think in thinking of God. Next Jehovah. The I Am, the Eternal, and Self-existent Being, by which name God revealed himself to Moses in the burning bush--a deeper and wider name than the former. And lastly, Adonai, the Lord, the living Ruler and Master of the world and men, by which he revealed himself to the later Jews, and at last to all mankind in the person of our Lord Jesus Christ. Now I need not to trouble your mind or my own with arguments as to how these three different names got into the Bible. That is a matter of criticism, of scholarship, with which you have nothing to do: and you may thank God that you have not, in such days as these. Your business is, not how the names got there, which is a matter of criticism, but why they have been left there by the providence of God, which is a matter of simple religion; and you may thank God, I say again, that it is so. For scholarship is Martha's part, which must be done, and yet which cumbers a man with much serving: but simple heart religion is the better part which Mary chose; and of which the Lord has said, that it shall not be taken from her, nor from those who, like her, sit humbly at the feet of the Lord, and hear his voice, without troubling their souls with questions of words, and endless genealogies, which eat out the hearts of men. Therefore all I shall say about the matter is that the first chapter of Genesis, and the first three verses of the second, may be the writing of a prophet older than Moses, because they call God Elohim, which was his name before Moses' time; and that Moses may have used them, and worked them into a book of Genesis; while he, in the part which he wrote himself, called God at first by the name Jehovah Elohim, The Lord God, in order to show that Jehovah and El were the same God, and not two different ones; and after he had made the Jews understand that, went on to call God simply Jehovah, and to use the two names, as they are used through the rest of the Old Testament, interchangeably: as we say sometimes God, sometimes the Lord, sometimes the Deity, and so forth; meaning of course always the same Being. That, I think, is the probable and simple account which tallies most exactly with the Bible. As for the first five books of the Bible, the Pentateuch, having been written by Moses, or at least by far the greater part of them, I cannot see the least reason to doubt it. The Bible itself does not say so; and therefore it is not a matter of faith, and men may have their own opinions on the matter, without sin or false doctrine. But that Moses wrote part at least of them, our Lord and his Apostles say expressly. The tradition of the Jews (who really ought to know best) has always been that Moses wrote either the whole or the greater part. Moses is by far the most likely man to have written them, of all of whom we read in Scripture. We have not the least proof, and, what is more, never shall or can have, that he did not write them. And therefore, I advise you to believe, as I do, that the universal tradition of both Jews and Christians is right, when it calls these books, the books of Moses. {7} But now no more of these matters: we will think of a matter quite infinitely more important, and that is, WHO is this God whom the Bible reveals to us, from the very first verse of Genesis? At least, he is one and the same Being. Whether he be called El, Jehovah, or Adonai, he is the same Lord. It is the Lord who makes the heaven and the earth, the Lord who puts man in a Paradise, lays on him a commandment, and appears to him in visible shape. It is the Lord who speaks to Abraham: though Abraham knew him only as El-Shaddai, the Almighty God. It is the Lord who brings the Israelites out of Egypt, who gives them the law on Sinai. It is the Lord who speaks to Samuel, to David, to all the Prophets, and appears to Isaiah, while his glory fills the Temple. In whatever 'divers manners' and 'many portions,' as St. Paul says in the Epistle to the Hebrews, he speaks to them, he is the same Being. And Psalmists and Prophets are most careful to tell us that he is the God, not of the Jews only, but of the Gentiles; of all mankind-- as indeed, he must be, being Jehovah, the I Am, the one Self- existent and Eternal Being; that from his throne he is watching and judging all the nations upon earth, fashioning the hearts of all, appointing them their bounds, and the times of their habitation, if haply they may seek after him and find him, though he be not far from any one of them; for in him they live and move and have their being. This is the message of Moses, of the Psalmists and the Prophets, just as much as of St. Paul on Mars' Hill at Athens. So begins and so ends the Old Testament, revealing throughout The Lord. And how does the New Testament begin? By telling us that a Babe was born at Bethlehem, and called Jesus, the Saviour. But who is this blessed Babe? He, too, is The Lord. 'A Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.' And from thence, through the Gospels, the Acts, the Epistles, the Revelation of St. John, he is the Lord. There is no manner of doubt of it. The Apostles and Evangelists take no trouble to prove it. They take it for granted. They call Jesus Christ by the name by which the Jews had for hundreds of years called the El of Abraham, the Jehovah of Moses. The Babe who is born at Bethlehem, who grows up as other human beings grow, into the man Christ Jesus, is none other than the Lord God who created the universe, who made a covenant with Abraham, who brought the Israelites out of Egypt, who inspired the Prophets, who has been from the beginning governing all the earth. It is very awful. But you must believe that, or put your Bibles away as a dream--New Testament and Old alike. Not to believe that fully and utterly, is not to believe the Bible at all. For that is what the Bible says, and has been sent into the world to say. It is, from beginning to end, the book of the revelation, or unveiling of Jesus Christ, very God of very God. But some may say, 'Why tell us that? Of course we believe it. We should not be Christians if we did not.' Be it so. I hope it is so. But I think that it is not so easy to believe it as we fancy. We believe it, I think, more firmly than our forefathers did five hundred years ago, on some points; and therefore we have got rid of many dark and blasphemous superstitions about witches and devils, about the evil of the earth and of our own bodies, of marriage, and of the common duties and bonds of humanity, which tormented them, because they could not believe fully that Jesus Christ had created, and still ruled the world and all therein. But we are all too apt still to think of Jesus Christ merely as some one who can save our souls when we die, and to forget that he is the Lord, who is and has been always ruling the world and all mankind. And from this come two bad consequences. People are apt to speak of the Lord Jesus--or at least to admire preachers who speak of him--as if he belonged to them, and not they to him; and, therefore, to speak of him with an irreverence and a familiarity which they dared not use, if they really believed that this same Jesus, whose name they take in vain, is none other than the Living God himself, their Creator, by whom every blade of grass grows beneath their feet, every planet and star rolls above their heads. And next--they fancy that the Old Testament speaks of our Lord Jesus Christ only in a few mysterious prophecies--some of which there is reason to suspect they quite misinterpret. They are slow of heart to believe all that the Scriptures have spoken of him of whom Moses and the Prophets did write, not in a few scattered texts, but in every line of the Old Testament, from the first of Genesis to the last of Malachi. And therefore they believe less and less, that Jesus Christ is still the Lord in any real practical sense--not merely the Lord of a few elect or saints, but the Lord of man and of the earth, and of the whole universe. They think of him as a Lord who will come again to judgment--which is true, and awfully true, in the very deepest sense: but they do not think of him--in spite of what he himself and his apostles declared of him--as The Living, Working Lord, to whom all power is given in heaven and earth, and not merely over the souls of a few regenerate; as the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, of whom St. Paul says, 'that the mystery of Christ has been hid from the beginning of the world in God, who created all things by Jesus Christ.' * * * 'That, in the dispensation of the fulness of times, he might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven, and which are in earth.' They fill their minds with fancies about the book of Revelation, most of which, there is reason to fear, are little else but fancies: while they overlook what that book really does say, and what is the best news that the world ever heard, that he is the Prince of the kings of the earth. Therefore they have fears for Christ's Bible, fears for Christ's Church, fears for the fate of the world, which they could not have if they would recollect who Christ is, and believe that he is able to take care of his own kingdom and power and glory, better than man can take care of it for him. Surely, surely, faith in the living Lord who rules the world in righteousness is fast dying out among us; and many who call themselves Christians seem to know less of Christ, and of the work which he is carrying on in the world, than did the old Psalmist, who said of him, 'The Lord shall endure for ever; he hath also prepared his seat for judgment. For he shall judge the world in righteousness, and minister true judgment among the people.' He fashioneth 'the hearts of all of them, and understandeth all their works.' Who can say that he believes that, who holds that this world is the devil's world, and that sinful man and evil spirits are having it all their own way till the day of judgment? Who can say that he believes that, who falls into pitiable terror at every new discovery of science or of scholarship, for fear it should destroy the Bible and the Christian faith, instead of believing that all which makes manifest is light, and that all light comes from the Father of lights, by the providence of Jesus Christ his only- begotten Son, who is the light of men, and the inspiration of his Spirit, who leadeth into all truth? And how, lastly, can those say that they believe that, who will lie, and slander, and have recourse to base intrigues, in order to defend that truth, and that Church, of which the Lord himself has said that he has founded it upon a rock, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it? But if you believe indeed the message of the Bible, that Jesus Christ is the Lord who made heaven and earth, then it shall be said of you, as it was of St. Peter, 'Blessed art thou: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it to thee, but my Father which is in heaven.' Yes. Blessed indeed is he who believes that; who believes that the same person who was born in a stable, had not where to lay his head, went about healing the sick and binding up the broken heart, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried, and rose again the third day, and ascended into heaven--ascended thither that he might fill all things; and is none other than the Lord of the earth and of men, the Creator, the Teacher, the Saviour, the Guide, the King, the Judge, of all the world, and of all worlds past, present, and to come. For to him who thus believes shall be fulfilled the promise of his Lord, 'Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' He will find rest unto his soul. Rest from that first and last question, of which I said that all men, down to the lowest savage, ask it, simply because they are men, and not beasts. Where am I? How came I here? How came this world here likewise? For he can answer-- 'I am in the kingdom of the Babe of Bethlehem. He put me here. And he put this world here likewise: and that is enough for me. He created all I see or can see--I care little how, provided that HE created it; for then I am sure that it must be very good. He redeemed me and all mankind, when we were lost, at the price of his most precious blood. He the Lord is King, therefore will I not be moved, though the earth be shaken, and the hills be carried into the midst of the sea. Yea, though the sun were turned to darkness, and the moon to blood, and the stars fell from heaven, and all power and order, all belief and custom of mankind, were turned upside down, yet there would still be One above who rules the world in righteousness, whose eye is on them that fear him and put their trust in his mercy, to deliver their soul from death, and to feed them in the time of dearth. Darkness may cover the land for awhile, and gross darkness the people. But while I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be my light, till the day when he shall say once more, "Let there be light," and light shall be.' Yes. To the man who is a good man and true; who has any hearty Christian feeling for his fellow-men, and is not merely a selfish superstitious person, caring for nothing but what he calls the safety of his own soul; to the man, I say, who has anything of the loving spirit of Christ in him, what question can be more important than this, Is the world well made or ill? Is it well governed or ill? Is it on the whole going right or going wrong? And what can be more comforting to such a man, than the answer which the Bible gives him at the outset?-- This world is well made, in love and care; for Christ the Lord made it, and behold it was very good. This world is going right and not wrong, in spite of all appearances to the contrary; for Christ the Lord is King. He sitteth between the cherubim, be the earth never so unquiet. He is too strong and too loving to let the world go any way but the right. Parts of it will often go wrong here, and go wrong there. The sin and ignorance of men will disturb his order, and rebel against his laws; and strange and mad things, terrible and pitiable things will happen, as they have happened ever since the day when the first man disobeyed the commandment of the Lord. But man cannot conquer the Lord; the Lord will conquer man. He will teach men by their neighbours' sins. He will teach them by their own sins. He will chastise them by sore judgments. He will make fearful examples of wilful and conceited sinners; and those who seem to escape him in this life, shall not escape him in the life to come. But he is trying for ever every man's work by fire; and against that fire no lie will stand. He will burn up the stubble and chaff, and leave only the pure wheat for the use of future generations. His purpose will stand. His word will never return to him void, but will prosper always where he sends it. He has made the round world so sure that it cannot be moved either by man or by worse than man. His everlasting laws will take effect in spite of all opposition, and bring the world and man along the path, and to the end, which he purposed for them in the day when God made the heavens and the earth, and in that even greater day, when he said, 'Let us make man in our image, after our likeness,' and man arose upright, and knew that he was not as the beasts, and asked who he was, and where? feeling with the hardly opened eyes of his spirit after that Lord from whom he came, and to whom he shall return, as many as have eternal life, in the day when Christ the Lord of life shall have destroyed death, and put all enemies under his feet, and given up the kingdom to God, even the Father, that God may be all in all. SERMON II. THE LIKENESS OF GOD (Trinity Sunday.) GENESIS i. 26. And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. This is a hard saying. It is difficult at times to believe it to be true. If one looks not at what God has made man, but at what man has made himself, one will never believe it to be true. When one looks at what man has made himself; at the back streets of some of our great cities; at the thousands of poor Germans and Irish across the ocean bribed to kill and to be killed, they know not why; at the abominable wrongs and cruelties going on in Poland at this moment--the cry whereof is going up to the ears of the God of Hosts, and surely not in vain; when one thinks of all the cries which have gone up in all ages from the victims of man's greed, lust, cruelty, tyranny, and shrillest of all from the tortured victims of his superstition and fanaticism, it is difficult to answer the sneer, 'Believe, if you can, that this foolish, unjust, cruel being called man, is made in the likeness of God. Man was never made in the image of God at all. He is only a cunninger sort of animal, for better for worse--and for worse as often as for better.' Another says, not quite that. Man was in the likeness of God once, but he lost that by Adam's fall, and now is only an animal with an immortal soul in him, to be lost or saved. There is more truth in that latter notion than in the former: but if it be quite right; if we did lose the likeness of God at Adam's fall, how comes the Bible never to say so? How comes the Bible never to say one word on what must have been the most important thing which ever happened to mankind before the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ? And how comes it also that the New Testament says distinctly that man is still made in the likeness of God? For St. Paul speaks of man as 'the likeness and glory of God.' And St. James says of the tongue, 'Therewith bless we God, even the Father; and therewith' (to our shame) 'curse we men, which are made in the likeness of God.' But the great proof that man is made in the image and likeness of God is the incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ; for if human nature had been, as some think, something utterly brutish and devilish, and utterly unlike God, how could God have become man without ceasing to be God? Christ was man of the substance of his mother. That substance had the same human nature as we have. Then if that human nature be evil, what follows? Something which I shall not utter, for it is blasphemy. Christ has taken the manhood into God. Then if manhood be evil, what follows again? Something more which I shall not utter, for it is blasphemy. But man is made in the image of God; and therefore God, in whose image he is made, could take on himself his own image and likeness, and become perfect man, without ceasing to be perfect God. Therefore, my friends, it is a comfortable and wholesome doctrine, that man is made in the image of God, and one for which we must thank the Bible. For it is the Bible which has revealed that truth to us, in its very beginning and outset, that we might have, from the first, clear and sound notions concerning man and God. The Bible, I say; for the sacred books of the heathen say, most of them, nothing thereof. Man has, in all ages, been tempted, when he looks at his own wickedness and folly, not only to despise himself--which he has good reason enough to do--but to despise his own human nature, and to cry to God, 'Why hast thou made me thus?' He has cursed his own human nature. He has said, 'Surely man is most miserable of all the beasts of the field.' He has said, 'I must get rid of my human nature--I must give up wife, family, human life of all kinds, I must go into the deserts and the forests, and there try to forget that I am a man, and become a mere spirit or angel.' So said the Buddhists of Asia, the deepest thinkers concerning man and God of all the heathens, and so have many said since their time. But so does the Bible not say. It starts by telling us that man is made in God's likeness, and that therefore his human nature is originally and in itself not a bad, but a perfectly good thing. All that has to be done to it is to be cured of its diseases; and the Bible declares that it can be cured. Howsoever man may have fallen, he may rise. Howsoever the likeness may be blotted and corrupted, it can be cleansed and renewed. Howsoever it may be perverted and turned right round and away from God and goodness to selfishness and evil, it can be converted, and turned back again to God. Howsoever utterly far gone man may be from original righteousness, still to original righteousness he can return, by the grace of baptism and the renewing of the Holy Spirit. And what in us is the likeness of God? That is a deep question. Only one answer will I make to it to-day. Whatever in us is, or is not, the likeness of God, at least the sense of right and wrong is; to know right and wrong. So says the Bible itself: 'Behold the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil.' Not that he got the likeness of God by his fall--of course not; but that he became aware of his likeness, and that in a very painful and common way--by sinning against it; as St. Paul says in one of his deepest utterances, 'By sin is the knowledge of the law.' And you may see for yourselves how human nature can have God's likeness in that respect, and yet be utterly fallen and corrupt. For a man may--and indeed every man does--know good and yet be unable to do it, and know evil, and yet be a slave to it, tied and bound with the chains of his sins till the grace of God release him from them. To know good and evil, right and wrong--to have a conscience, a moral sense--that is the likeness of God of which I wish to preach to-day. Because it is through THAT knowledge of good and evil, and through it alone, that we can know God, and Jesus Christ whom he has sent. It is through our moral sense that God speaks to us; through our sense of right and wrong; through that I say, God speaks to us, whether in reproof or encouragement, in wrath or in love; to teach us what he is like, and to teach us what he is not like. To know God. That is the side on which we must look at this text on Trinity Sunday. If man be made in the image of God, then we may be able to know something at least of God, and of the character of God. If we have the copy, we can guess at least at what the original is like. From the character, therefore, of every good man, we may guess at something of the character of God. But from the character of Jesus Christ our Lord, who is the very brightness of his Father's glory and the express image of his person, we may see perfectly--at least perfectly enough for all our needs in this life, and in the life to come--what is the character of God, who made heaven and earth. I beseech you to remember this--I beseech you to believe this, with your whole hearts, and minds, and souls, and especially just now. For there are many abroad now who will tell you, man can know nothing of God. Answer them: 'If your God be a God of whom I can know nothing, then he is not my God, the God of the Bible. For he is the God who has said of old, "They shall not teach each man his brother, saying, Know the Lord, for all shall know Me, from the least unto the greatest." He is the God, who, through Jesus Christ our Lord, accused and blamed the Jews because they did NOT know him, which if they COULD NOT know him would have been no fault of theirs. Of doctrines, and notions, and systems, it is written, and most truly, "I know in part, and I prophesy in part," and again, "If a man thinketh that he knoweth anything, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know." But of God it is written, "This is life eternal, to know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent."' But they will say, man is finite and limited, God is infinite and absolute, and how can the finite comprehend the infinite? Answer: 'Those are fine words: I do not understand them; and I do not care to understand them; I do not deny that God is infinite and absolute, though what that means I do not know. But I find nothing about his being infinite and absolute in the Bible. I find there that he is righteous, just, loving, merciful, and forgiving; and that he is angry too, and that his wrath is a consuming fire, and I know well enough what those words mean, though I do not know what infinite and absolute mean. So that is what I have to think of, for my own sake and the sake of all mankind.' But, they will say, you must not take these words to the letter; man is so unlike God, and God so unlike man, that God's attributes must be quite different from man's. When you read of God's love, justice, anger, and so forth, you must not think that they are anything like man's love, man's justice, man's anger; but something quite different, not only in degree, but in kind: so that what might be unjust and cruel in man, would not be so in God. My dear friends, beware of that doctrine; for out of it have sprung half the fanaticism and superstition which has disgraced and tormented the earth. Beware of ever thinking that a wrong thing would be right if God did it, and not you. And mind, that is flatly contrary to the letter of the Bible. In that grand text where Abraham pleads with God, what does he say? Not, 'Of course if Thou choosest to do it, it must be right,' but 'Shall not the Judge of all the earth do RIGHT?' Abraham actually refers the Almighty God to his own law; and asserts an eternal rule of right and wrong common to man and to God, which God will surely never break. Answer: 'If that doctrine be true, which I will never believe, then the Bible mocks and deceives poor miserable sinful man, instead of teaching him. If God's love does not mean real actual love,--God's anger, actual anger,--God's forgiveness, real forgiveness,--God's justice, real justice,--God's truth, real truth,--God's faithfulness, real faithfulness, what do they mean? Nothing which I can understand, nothing which I can trust in. How can I trust in a God whom I cannot understand or know? How can I trust in a love or a justice which is not what _I_ call love or justice, or anything like them? 'The saints of old said, _I_ KNOW in whom I have believed. And how can I believe in him, if there is nothing in him which I can know; nothing which is like man--nothing, to speak plainly, like Christ, who was perfect man as well as perfect God? If that be so, if man can know nothing really of God, he is indeed most miserable of all the beasts of the field, for I will warrant that he can know nothing really of anything else. And what is left for him, but to remain for this life, and the life to come, in the outer darkness of ignorance and confusion, misrule and misery, wherein is most literally--as one may see in the history of every heathen nation upon earth--wailing and gnashing of teeth. 'If God's goodness be not like man's goodness, there is no rule of morality left, no eternal standard of right and wrong. How can I tell what I ought to do; or what God expects of me; or when I am right and when I am wrong, if you take from me the good, plain, old Bible rule, that man CAN be, and MUST be, like God? The Bible rule is, that everything good in man must be exactly like something good in God, because it is inspired into him by the Spirit of God himself. Our Lord Jesus, who spoke, not to philosophers or Scribes and Pharisees, but to plain human beings, weeping and sorrowing, suffering and sinning, like us,--told them to be perfect, as our Father in heaven is perfect, by being good to the unthankful and the evil. And if man is to be perfect, as his Father in heaven is perfect, then his Father in heaven is perfect as man ought to be perfect. He told us to be merciful as our Father in heaven is merciful. Then our Father in heaven is merciful with the same sort of mercy as we ought to show. We are bidden to forgive others, even as God for Christ's sake has forgiven us: then if our forgiveness is to be like God's, God's forgiveness is like ours. We are to be true, because God is true: just, because God is just. How can we be that, if God's truth is not like what men call truth, God's justice not like what men call justice? 'If I give up that rule of right and wrong, I give up all rules of right and wrong whatsoever.' No, my friends; if we will seek for God where he may be found, then we shall know God, whom truly to know is everlasting life. But we must not seek for him where he is not, in long words and notions of philosophy spun out of men's brains, and set up as if they were real things, when words and notions they are, and words and notions they will remain. We must look for God where he is to be found, in the character of his only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, who alone has revealed and unveiled God's character, because he is the brightness of God's glory, and the express image of his person. What Christ's character was we can find in the Holy Gospels; and we can find it too, scattered and in parts, in all the good, the holy, the noble, who have aught of Christ's spirit and likeness in them. Whatsoever is good and beautiful in any human soul, that is the likeness of Christ. Whatsoever thoughts, words, or deeds are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, of good report; whatsoever is true virtue, whatsoever is truly worthy of praise, that is the likeness of Christ; the likeness of him who was full of all purity, all tenderness, all mercy, all self-sacrifice, all benevolence, all helpfulness; full of all just and noble indignation also against oppressors and hypocrites who bound heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, but touched them not themselves with one of their fingers; who kept the key of knowledge, and neither entered in themselves, or let those who were trying enter in either. The likeness of an all-noble, all-just, all-gracious, all-wise, all- good human being; that is the likeness of Christ, and that, therefore, is the likeness of God who made heaven and earth. All-good; utterly and perfectly good, in every kind of goodness which we have ever seen, or can ever imagine--that, thank God, is the likeness and character of Almighty God, in whom we live and move, and have our being. To know that he is that--all-good, is to know his character as far as sinful and sorrowful man need know; and is not that to know enough? The mystery of the ever-blessed Trinity, as set forth so admirably in the Athanasian Creed, is a mystery; and it we cannot KNOW--we can only believe it, and take it on trust: but the CHARACTER of the ever-blessed Trinity--Father, Son, and Holy Ghost--we can know: while by keeping the words of the Athanasian Creed carefully in mind, we may be kept from many grievous and hurtful mistakes which will hinder our knowing it. We can know that they are all good, for such as the Father is such is the Son, and such is the Holy Ghost. That goodness is their one and eternal substance, and majesty, and glory, which we must not divide by fancying with some, that the Father is good in one way and the Son in another. That their goodness is eternal and unchangeable; for they themselves are eternal, and have neither parts nor passions. That their goodness is incomprehensible, that is, cannot be bounded or limited by time or space, or by any notions or doctrines of ours, for they themselves are incomprehensible, and able to do abundantly more than we can ask or think. This is our God, the God of the Bible, the God of the Church, the God who has revealed himself in Jesus Christ our Lord. And him we can believe utterly, for we know that he is faithful and true; and we know what THAT means, if there is any truth or faithfulness in us. We know that he is just and righteous; and we know what THAT means, if there is any justice and uprightness in ourselves. Him we can trust utterly; to him we can take all our cares, all our sorrows, all our doubts, all our sins, and pour them out to him, because he is condescending; and we know what THAT means, if there be any condescension and real high-mindedness in ourselves. We can be certain too that he will hear us, just because he is so great, so majestic, so glorious; because his greatness, and majesty, and glory is a moral and spiritual greatness, which shows itself by stooping to the meanest, by listening to the most foolish, helping the weakest, pitying the worst, even while it is bound to punish. Him we can trust, I say, because him we can know, and can say of him, Let the Infinite and the Absolute mean what they may, I know in whom I have believed--God the Good. Whatever else I cannot understand, I can at least 'understand the lovingkindness of the Lord;' however high his dwelling may be, I know that he humbleth himself to behold the things in heaven and earth, to take the simple out of the dust, and the poor out of the mire. Whatever else God may or may not be, I know that gracious is the Lord, and righteous, yea, our God is merciful. The Lord preserveth the simple, for _I_ was in misery, and he helped ME. Whatsoever fine theories or new discoveries I cannot trust, I can trust him, for with him is mercy, and with the Lord is plenteous redemption; and he shall redeem his people from all their sins. However dark and ignorant I may be, I can go to him for teaching, and say, Teach me to do the thing that pleaseth thee, for thou art my God; let thy loving Spirit lead me forth into the land of righteousness. The land of righteousness. The one true heavenly land, wherein God the righteous dwelleth from eternity to eternity, righteous in all his ways, and holy in all his works, and therefore adorable in all his ways, and glorious in all his works, with a glory even greater than the glory of his Almighty power. On that glory of his goodness we can gaze, though afar off in degree, yet near in kind, while the glory of his wisdom and power is far, far beyond my understanding. Of the intellect of God we can know nothing; but we can know what is better, the heart of God. For THAT glory of goodness we can understand, and KNOW, and sympathize with in our heart of hearts, and say, If THIS be the likeness of God, he is indeed worthy to be worshipped, and had in honour. Praise the Lord, O my soul, for the Lord is GOOD. Kings and all people, princes and all judges of the world, young men and maidens, old men and children, praise the name of the Lord, for his name only is excellent, because his name is GOOD. Lift up your eyes, and look upon the face of Christ the God- man, crucified for you; and behold therein the truth of all truths, the doctrine of all doctrines, the gospel of all gospels, that the 'Unknown,' and 'Infinite,' and 'Absolute' God, who made the universe, bids you know him, and know this of him, that he is GOOD, and that his express image and likeness is--Jesus Christ, his Son, our Lord. SERMON III. THE VOICE OF THE LORD GOD (Preached also at the Chapel Royal, St. James, Sexagesima Sunday.) GENESIS iii. 8. And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day. These words would startle us, if we heard them for the first time. I do not know but that they may startle us now, often as we have heard them, if we think seriously over them. That God should appear to mortal man, and speak with mortal man. It is most wonderful. It is utterly unlike anything that we have ever seen, or that any person on earth has seen, for many hundred years. It is a miracle, in every sense of the word. When one compares man as he was then, weak and ignorant, and yet seemingly so favoured by God, so near to God, with man as he is now, strong and cunning, spreading over the earth and replenishing it; subduing it with railroads and steamships, with agriculture and science, and all strange and crafty inventions, and all the while never visited by any Divine or heavenly appearance, but seemingly left utterly to himself by God, to go his own way and do his own will upon the earth, one asks with wonder, Can we be Adam's children? Can the God who appeared to Adam, be our God likewise, or has God's plan and rule for teaching man changed utterly? No. He is one God; the same God yesterday, to-day, and for ever. His will and purpose, his care and rule over man, have not changed. That is a matter of faith. Of the faith which the holy Church commands us to have. But it need not be a blind or unreasonable faith. That our God is the God of Adam; that the same Lord God who taught him teaches us likewise, need not be a mere matter of faith: it may be a matter of reason likewise; a thing which seems reasonable to us, and recommends itself to our mind and conscience as true. Consider, my friends, a babe when it comes into the world. The first thing of which it is aware is its mother's bosom. The first thing which it does, as its eyes and ears are gradually opened to this world, is to cling to its parents. It holds fast by their hand, it will not leave their side. It is afraid to sleep alone, to go alone. To them it looks up for food and help. Of them it asks questions, and tries to learn from them, to copy them, to do what it sees them doing, even in play; and the parents in return lavish care and tenderness on it, and will not let it out of their sight. But after a while, as the child grows, the parents will not let it be so perpetually with them. It must go to school. It must see its parents only very seldom, perhaps it must be away from them weeks or months. And why? Not that the parents love it less: but that it must learn to take care of itself, to act for itself, to think for itself, or it will never grow up to be a rational human being. And the parting of the child from the parents does not break the bond of love between them. It learns to love them even better. Neither does it break the bond of obedience. The child is away from its parents' eye. But it learns to obey them behind their back; to do their will of its own will; to ask itself, What would my parents wish me to do, were they here? and so learns, if it will think of it, a more true, deep, honourable and spiritual obedience, than it ever would if its parents were perpetually standing over it, saying, Do this, and do that. In after life, that child may settle far away from his father's home. He may go up into the temptations and bustle of some great city. He may cross to far lands beyond the sea. But need he love his parents less? need the bond between them be broken, though he may never set eyes on them again? God forbid. He may be settled far away, with children, business, interests of his own; and yet he may be doing all the while his father's will. The lessons of God which he learnt at his mother's knee may be still a lamp to his feet and a light to his path. Amid all the bustle and labour of business, his father's face may still be before his eyes, his father's voice still sound in his ears, bidding him be a worthy son to him still; bidding him not to leave that way wherein he should go, in which his parents trained him long, long since. He may feel that his parents are near him in the spirit, though absent in the flesh. Yes, though they may have passed altogether out of this world, they may be to him present and near at hand; and he may be kept from doing many a wrong thing and encouraged to do many a right one, by the ennobling thought, My father would have had it so, my mother would have had it so, had they been here on earth. And though in this world he may never see them again, he may look forward steadily and longingly to the day when, this life's battle over, he shall meet again in heaven those who gave him life on earth. My friends, if this be the education which is natural and necessary from our earthly parents, made in God's image, appointed by God's eternal laws for each of us, why should it not be the education which God himself has appointed for mankind? All which is truly human (not sinful or fallen) is an image and pattern of something Divine. May not therefore the training which we find, by the very facts of nature, fit and necessary for our children, be the same as God's training, by which he fashioneth the hearts of the children of men? Therefore we can believe the Bible when it tells us that so it is. That God began the education of man by appearing to him directly, keeping him, as it were, close to his hand, and teaching him by direct and open revelation. That as time went on, God left men more and more to themselves outwardly: but only that he might raise their minds to higher notions of religion--that he might make them live by faith, and not merely by sight; and obey him of their own hearty free will, and not merely from fear or wonder. And therefore, in these days, when miraculous appearances have, as far as we know, entirely ceased, yet God is not changed. He is still as near as ever to men; still caring for them, still teaching them; and his very stopping of all miracles, so far from being a sign of God's anger or neglect, is a part of his gracious plan for the training of his Church. For consider--Man was first put upon this earth, with all things round him new and strange to him; seeing himself weak and unarmed before the wild beasts of the forest, not even sheltered from the cold, as they are; and yet feeling in himself a power of mind, a cunning, a courage, which made him the lord of all the beasts by virtue of his MIND, though they were stronger than he in body. All that we read of Adam and Eve in the Bible is, as we should expect, the history of CHILDREN--children in mind, even when they were full- grown in stature. Innocent as children, but, like children, greedy, fanciful, ready to disobey at the first temptation, for the very silliest of reasons; and disobeying accordingly. Such creatures-- with such wonderful powers lying hid in them, such a glorious future before them; and yet so weak, so wilful, so ignorant, so unable to take care of themselves, liable to be destroyed off the face of the earth by their own folly, or even by the wild beasts around--surely they needed some special and tender care from God to keep them from perishing at the very outset, till they had learned somewhat how to take care of themselves, what their business and duty were upon this earth. They needed it before they fell; they needed it still more, and their children likewise, after they fell: and if they needed it, we may trust God that he afforded it to them. But again. Whence came this strange notion, which man alone has of all the living things which we see, of RELIGION? What put into the mind of man that strange imagination of beings greater than himself, whom he could not always see, but who might appear to him? What put into his mind the strange imagination that these unseen beings were more or less his masters? That they had made laws for him which he must obey? That he must honour and worship them, and do them service, in order that they might be favourable to him, and help, and bless, and teach him? All nations except a very few savages (and we do not know but that their forefathers had it like the rest of mankind) have had some such notion as this; some idea of religion, and of a moral law of right and wrong. Where did they get it? Where, I ask again, did they get it? My friends, after much thought I answer, there is no explanation of that question so simple, so rational, so probable, as the one which the text gives. "And they heard the voice of the Lord God." Some, I know, say that man thought out for himself, in his own reason, the notion of God; that he by searching found out God. But surely that is contrary to all experience. Our experience is, that men left to themselves forget God; lose more and more all thought of God, and the unseen world; believe more and more in nothing but what they can see and taste and handle, and become as the beasts that perish. How then did man, who now is continually forgetting God, contrive to remember God for himself at first? How, unless God himself showed himself to man? I know some will say, that mankind invented for themselves false gods at first, and afterwards cleared and purified their own notions, till they discovered the true God. My friends, there is a homely old proverb which will well apply here. If there had been no gold guineas, there would be no brass ones. If men had not first had a notion of a true God, and then gradually lost it, they would not have invented false gods to supply his place. And whence did they get, I ask again, the notion of gods at all? The simplest answer is in the Bible: God taught them. I can find no better. I do not believe a better will ever be found. And why not? Why not? I ask. To say that God cannot appear to men is simply silly; for it is limiting God's Almighty power. He that made man and all heaven and earth, cannot he show himself to man, if he shall so please? To say that God will not appear to man because man is so insignificant, and this earth such a paltry little speck in the heavens, is to limit God's goodness; nay, it is to show that a man knows not what goodness means. What grace, what virtue is there higher than condescension? Then if God be, as he is, perfectly good, must he not be perfectly condescending--ready and willing to stoop to man, and all the more ready and the more willing, the more weak, ignorant, and sinful this man is? In fact, the greater need man has of God, the more certain is it that God will help him in that need. Yes, my friends, the Bible is the revelation of a God who condescends to men, and therefore descends to men. And the more a man's reason is spiritually enlightened to know the meaning of goodness and holiness and justice and love, the more simple, reasonable, and credible will it seem to him that God at first taught men in the days of their early ignorance, by the only method by which (as far as we can conceive) he could have taught them about himself; namely, by appearing in visible shape, or speaking with audible voice; and just as reasonable and credible, awful and unfathomable mystery though it is, will be the greater news, that that same Lord at last so condescended to man that he was conceived by the Holy Ghost; born of the Virgin Mary; suffered under Pontius Pilate; was crucified, dead, and buried; and rose the third day, and ascended into heaven. Credible and reasonable, not indeed to the natural man who looks only at nature, which he can see and hear and handle; but credible and reasonable enough to the spiritual man, whose mind has been enlightened by the Spirit of God, to see that the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal; even justice and love, mercy and condescension, the divine order, and the kingdom of the Living God. And now one word on a matter which is tormenting the minds of many just now. It is often said that all that I have been saying is contrary to science. That this science and understanding of the world around us, which has improved so marvellously in our days, proves that the apparitions and miracles spoken of in the Bible cannot be true; that God, or the angels of God, can never have walked with man in visible shape. Now, my friends, I do not believe this. I believe the very contrary. I entreat you to set your minds at rest on this point; and to believe (what is certainly true) there is nothing in this new science to contradict the good old creed, that the Lord God of old appeared to his human children. It would take too much time, of course, to give you my reasons for saying this: and I must therefore ask you to take on trust from me when I tell you solemnly and earnestly that there is nothing in modern science which can, if rightly understood, contradict the glorious words of St. Paul, that God at sundry times and in divers manners spake to the fathers by the prophets, and hath at last spoken unto us by a Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things: by whom also he made the worlds, who is the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholdeth all things by the word of his power: even Jesus Christ, God blessed for ever. Amen. What then shall we think of these things? Shall we say, 'How much better off were our forefathers than we! Ah, that we were not left to ourselves! Ah, that we lived in the good old times when God and his angels walked with men!' My friends, what says Solomon the Wise?--'Inquire not why the former times were better than these, for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this.' It is very natural for us to think that we could become more easily good men, more certain of going to heaven, if we saw divine apparitions and heard divine voices. A very natural thought. But natural things are not always the best or wisest things. Spiritual things are surely higher and deeper than natural things. It is natural to wish to see Christ, or some heavenly being, with our natural eyes and senses. But it is spiritual and therefore better for our souls, to be content to see him by faith, with the spiritual eyes of our heart and mind, to love him with all our heart and mind and soul, to worship him, to put our whole trust in him, to call upon him, to honour his holy name and his word, and to serve him truly all the days of our life. Natural, indeed, to wish that we were back again in the old times. But we must recollect that these old times were not good times, but bad times, and for that very reason the Lord took pity on them. That they were times of darkness, and therefore it was that the people who sat in great darkness, and in the valley of the shadow of death, were allowed to see a great light. And that after that, the fulness of time, the very time which the Lord chose that he might be incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and came down upon this earth in human form, was not a good time. On the contrary, the fulness of time, 1863 years ago, was the very wickedest, most faithless, most unjust time that the world had ever seen--a time of which St. Paul said that there were none who did good, no, not one; that adders' poison was under all lips, and all feet swift to shed blood, and that the way of peace none had known. Better, far better, to live in times like these, in which there is (among Christian nations at least) no great darkness, even though there be no great light; times in which the knowledge of the true God and his Son Jesus Christ is spreading, slowly but surely, over all the earth; and with it, the fruit of the knowledge of the Lord, justice, mercy, charity, fellow-feeling, and a desire to teach and improve all mankind, such as the world never saw before. These are the fruits of the Scriptures of the Lord, and the Sacraments of the Lord, and of the Holy Spirit of the Lord; and if that Holy Spirit be in our hearts, and we yield our hearts to his gracious motions and obey them, then we are really nearer to the Lord Jesus Christ than if we saw him, as Adam did, with our bodily eyes, and yet rebelled against him, as Adam did, in our hearts, and disobeyed him in our actions. Of old the Lord treated men as babes, and showed himself to their bodily eyes, that so they might learn that he was, and that he was near them. But us he treats as grown men, who know that he is, and that he is with us to the end of the world. And if he treats us as men, my friends, let us behave ourselves like men, and not like silly children, who cannot be trusted by themselves for a moment lest they do wrong or come to harm. Let us obey God, not with eye-service, just as long as we fancy that his eye is on us, but with the deeper, more spiritual, more honourable obedience of faith. Let us obey him for obedience' sake, and honour him for very honour's sake, as the young emigrant in foreign lands obeys and honours the parents whom he will never see again on earth; and let us look forward, like him, to the day when him whom we cannot see on earth we may, perhaps, be permitted to see in heaven, as the reward- -and for what higher reward can man wish?--of faith and obedience. SERMON IV. NOAH'S FLOOD (Quinquagesima Sunday.) GENESIS ix. 13. I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. We all know the history of Noah's flood. What have we learnt from that history? What were we intended to learn from it? What thoughts should we have about it? There are many thoughts which we may have. We may think how the flood came to pass; what means God used to make it rain forty days; what is meant by breaking up the fountains of the great deep. We may calculate how large the ark was; and whether the Bible really means that it held all kinds of living things in the world, or only those of Noah's own country, or the animals which had been tamed and made useful to man. We may read long arguments as to whether the flood spread over the whole world, or only over the country where Noah and the rest of the sons of Adam then lived. We may puzzle ourselves concerning the rainbow of which the text speaks. How it was to be a sign of a covenant from God. Whether man had ever seen a rainbow before. Whether there had ever been rain before in Noah's country; or whether he did not live in that land of which the second chapter of Genesis says that the Lord had not caused it to rain upon the earth, but there went up a mist from the earth and watered the face of the ground, as it does still in that high land in the centre of Asia, in which old traditions put the garden of Eden, and from which, as far as we yet know, mankind came at the beginning. We may puzzle our minds with these and a hundred more curious questions, as learned men have done in all ages. But--shall we become really the wiser by so doing? More learned we may become. But being learned and being wise are two different things. True wisdom is that which makes a man a better man. And will such puzzling questions and calculations as these, settle them how we may, make us BETTER men? Will they make us more honest and just, more generous and loving, more able to keep our tempers and control our appetites? I cannot see that. Will it make us better men merely to know that there was once a flood of waters on the earth? I cannot see that. If we look at the hills of sand and gravel round us, a little common sense will show us that there have been many floods of waters on the earth, long, long before the one of which the Bible speaks: but shall we be better men for knowing that either? I cannot see why we should. Now the Bible was sent to make us better men. How then will the history of the flood do that? Easily enough, my friends, if we will listen to the Bible, and thinking less about the flood itself, think more about him who, so the Bible tells us, sent the flood. The Bible, I have told you, is the revelation of the living Lord God, even Jesus Christ; who, in his turn, reveals to us the Father. And what we have to think of is, how does this story of the flood reveal, unveil to us the living Lord of the world, and his living government thereof? Let us look at the matter in that way, instead of puzzling ourselves with questions of words and endless genealogies which minister strife. Let us look at the matter in that way, instead of (like too many men now, and too many men in all ages) being so busy in picking to pieces the shell of the Bible, that we forget that the Bible has any kernel, and so let it slip through our hands. Let us look at the matter in that way, as a revelation of the living God, and then we shall find the history of the flood full of godly doctrine, and profitable for these times, and for all times whatsoever. God sent a flood on the earth. True; but the important matter is that GOD sent it. God set the rainbow in the cloud, for a token. True; but the important matter is that GOD set it there. Important? Yes. What more important than to know that the flood did not come of itself, that the rainbow did not come of itself, and therefore that no flood comes of itself, no rainbow comes of itself; nothing comes of itself, but all comes straight and immediately from the one Living Lord God? A man may say, But the flood must have been caused by clouds and rain; and there must have been some special natural cause for their falling at that place and that time? What of that? Or that the fountains of the great deep must have been broken up by natural earthquakes, such as break up the crust of the earth now. What of that? Or that the rainbow must have been caused by the sun's rays shining through rain-drops at a certain angle, as all rainbows are now. What of that? Very probably it was: but if not, What of that? What we ought to know, and what we ought to care for is, what the Bible tells us without a doubt, that however they came, God sent them. However they were made, God made them. Their manner, their place, their time was appointed exactly by God for a MORAL purpose. To do something for the immortal souls of men; to punish sinners; to preserve the righteous; to teach Noah and his children after him a moral lesson, concerning righteousness and sin; concerning the wrath of God against sin; concerning God, that he governs the world and all in it, and does not leave the world, or mankind, to go on of themselves and by themselves. You see, I trust, what a message this was, and is, and ever will be for men; what a message and good news it must have been especially for the heathen of old time. For what would the heathen, what actually did the heathen think about such sights as a flood, or a rainbow? They thought of course that some one sent the flood. Common sense taught them that. But what kind of person must he be, thought they, who sent the flood? Surely a very dark, terrible, angry God, who was easily and suddenly provoked to drown their cattle and flood their lands. But the rainbow, so bright and gay, the sign of coming fine weather, could not belong to the same God who made the flood. What the fancies of the heathen about the rainbow were matters little to us: but they fancied, at least, that it belonged to some cheerful, bright and kind God. And so with other things. Whatever was bright, and beautiful, and wholesome in the world, like the rainbow, belonged to kind gods; whatever was dark, ugly, and destroying, like the flood, belonged to angry gods. Therefore those of the heathen who were religious never felt themselves safe. They were always afraid of having offended some god, they knew not how; always afraid of some god turning against them, and bringing diseases against their bodies; floods, drought, blight against their crops; storms against their ships, in revenge for some slight or neglect of theirs. And all the while they had no clear notion that these gods made the world; they thought that the gods were parts of the world, just as men are, and that beyond the gods there was the some sort of Fate, or necessity, which even gods must obey. Do you not see now what a comfort--what a spring of hope, and courage, and peace of mind, and patient industry--it must have been to the men of old time to be told, by this story of the flood, that the God who sends the flood sends the rainbow also? There are not two gods, nor many gods, but one God, of whom are all things. Light and darkness, storm or sunshine, barrenness or wealth, come alike from him. Diseases, storm, flood, blight, all these show that there is in God an awfulness, a sternness, an anger if need be--a power of destroying his own work, of altering his own order; but sunshine, fruitfulness, peace, and comfort, all show that love and mercy, beauty and order, are just as much attributes of his essence as awfulness and anger. They tell us he is a God whose will is to love, to bless, to make his creatures happy, if they will allow him. They tell us that his anger is not a capricious, revengeful, proud, selfish anger, such as that of the heathen gods: but that it is an orderly anger, a just anger, a loving anger, and therefore an anger which in its wrath can remember mercy. Out of God's wrath shineth love, as the rainbow out of the storm; if it repenteth him that he hath made man, it is only because man is spoiling and ruining himself, and wasting the gifts of the good world by his wickedness. If he see fit to destroy man out of the earth, he will destroy none but those who deserve and need destroying. He will save those whom, like Noah, he can trust to begin afresh, and raise up a better race of men to do his work in the world. If God send a flood to destroy all living things, any when or anywhere, he will show, by putting the rainbow in the cloud, that floods and destruction and anger are not his rule; that his rule is sunshine, and peace, and order; that though he found it necessary once to curse the ground, once to sweep away a wicked race of men, yet that even that was, if one dare use the words of God, against his gracious will; that his will was from the beginning, peace on earth, and not floods, and good will to men, and not destruction; and that in his HEART, in the abyss of his essence, and of which it is written, that God is Love--in his heart I say, he said, 'I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake, even though the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth. Neither will I again smite everything living, as I have done. While the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest, summer and winter, and day and night, shall not cease.' This is the God which the book of Genesis goes on revealing and unveiling to us more and more--a God in whom men may TRUST. The heathen could not trust their gods. The Bible tells men of a God whom they can trust. That is just the difference between the Bible and all other books in the world. But what a difference! Difference enough to make us say, Sooner that every other book in the world were lost, and the Bible preserved, than that we should lose the Bible, and with the Bible lose faith in God. And now, my friends, what shall we learn from this? What shall we learn? Have we not learnt enough already? If we have learnt something more of who God is; if we have learnt that he is a God in whom we can trust through joy and sorrow, through light and darkness, through life and death, have we not learnt enough for ourselves? Yes, if even those poor and weak words about God which I have just spoken, could go home into all your hearts, and take root, and bear fruit there, they would give you a peace of mind, a comfort, a courage among all the chances and changes of this mortal life, and a hope for the life to come, such as no other news which man can tell you will ever give. But there is one special lesson which we may learn from the history of the flood, of which I may as well tell you at once. The Bible account of the flood will teach us how to look at the many terrible accidents, as we foolishly call them, which happen still upon this earth. There are floods still, here and there, earthquakes, fires, fearful disasters, like that great colliery disaster of last year, which bring death, misery and ruin to thousands. The Bible tells us what to think of them, when it tells us of the flood. Do I mean that these disasters come as punishments to the people who are killed by them? That is exactly what I do not mean. It was true of the flood. It is true, no doubt, in many other cases. But our blessed Lord has specially forbidden us to settle when it is true to say that any particular set of people are destroyed for their sins: forbidden us to say that the poor creatures who perish in this way are worse than their neighbours. 'Thinkest thou,' he says, 'that those Galilaeans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices, were sinners above all the Galilaeans? Or those eighteen, on whom the tower in Siloam fell, and killed them; think you that they were sinners above all who dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you nay.' 'Judge not,' he says, 'and ye shall not be judged,' and therefore we must not judge. We have no right to say, for instance, that the terrible earthquake in Italy, two years ago, came as a punishment for the sins of the people. We have no right to say that the twenty or thirty thousand human beings, with innocent children among them by hundreds, who were crushed or swallowed up by that earthquake in a few hours, were sinners above all that dwelt in Italy. We must not say that, for the Lord God himself has forbidden it. But this we may say (for God himself has said it in the Bible), that these earthquakes, and all other disasters, great or small, do not come of themselves--do not come by accident, or chance, or blind necessity; but that he sends them, and that they fulfil his will and word. He sends them, and therefore they do not come in vain. They fulfil his will, and his will is a good will. They carry out his purpose, but his purpose is a gracious purpose. God may send them in anger; but in his anger he remembers mercy, and his very wrath to some is part and parcel of his love to the rest. Therefore these disasters must be meant to do good, and will do good to mankind. They may be meant to teach men, to warn them, to make them more wise and prudent for the future, more humble and aware of their own ignorance and weakness, more mindful of the frailty of human life, that remembering that in the midst of life we are in death, they may seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him while he is near. They may be meant to do that, and to do a thousand things more. For God's ways are not as our ways, or his thoughts as our thoughts. His ways are unsearchable, and his paths past finding out. Who hath known the mind of the Lord, that he may instruct him, or even settle what the Lord means by doing this or that? All we can say is--and that is a truly blessed thing to be able to say--that floods and earthquakes, fire and storms, come from the Lord whose name is Love; the same Lord who walked with Adam in the garden, who brought the children of Israel out of Egypt, who was born on earth of the Virgin Mary, who shed his life-blood for sinful man, who wept over Jerusalem even when he was about to destroy it so that not one stone was left on another, and who, when he looked on the poor little children of Judaea, untaught or mistaught, enslaved by the Romans, and but too likely to perish or be carried away captive in the fearful war which was coming on their land, said of them, 'It is not the will of your Father in heaven, that one of these little ones shall perish.' Him at least we can trust, in the dark and dreadful things of this world, as well as in the bright and cheerful ones; and say with Job, 'Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him. I have received good from the hands of the Lord, and shall I not receive evil?' SERMON V. ABRAHAM (First Sunday in Lent) GENESIS xvii. 1, 2. And when Abram was ninety years old and nine, the Lord appeared to Abram, and said unto him, I am the Almighty God; walk before me, and be thou perfect. I have told you that the Bible reveals, that is, unveils the Lord God, Jesus Christ our Lord, and through him God the Father Almighty. I have tried to show you how the Bible does so, step by step. I go on to show you another step which the Bible takes, and which explains much that has gone before. From whom did Moses and the holy men of old whom Moses taught get their knowledge of God, the true God? The answer seems to be--from Abraham. God taught Moses more, much more than he taught Abraham. It was Moses who bade men call God Jehovah, the I AM; but who, hundreds of years before, taught them to call him the Almighty God? The answer seems to be, Abraham. God, we read, appeared to Abraham, and said to him, 'Get thee out of thy country, and from thy father's house, unto a land that I shall show thee, and I will make of thee a great nation.' And again the Lord said to him, 'I am the Almighty God, walk before me and be thou perfect, and thou shalt be a father of many nations.' 'And Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him for righteousness. And he was called the friend of God.' But from what did Abraham turn to worship the living God? From idols? We are not certain. There is little or no mention of idols in Abraham's time. He worshipped, more probably, the host of heaven, the sun and moon and stars. So say the old traditions of the Arabs, who are descended from Abraham through Ishmael, and so it is most likely to have been. That was the temptation in the East. You read again and again how his children, the Jews, turned back from God to worship the host of heaven; and that false worship seems to have crept in at some very early time. The sun, you must remember, and the moon are far more brilliant and powerful in the East than here; their power of doing harm or good to human beings and to the crops of the land is far greater; while the stars shine in the East with a brightness of which we here have no notion. We do not know, in this cloudy climate, what St. Paul calls the glory of the stars; nor see how much one star differs from another star in glory; and therefore here in the North we have never been tempted to worship them as the Easterns were. The sun, the moon, the stars, were the old gods of the East, the Elohim, the high and mighty ones, who ruled over men, over their good and bad fortunes, over the weather, the cattle, the crops, sending burning drought, pestilence, sun-strokes, and those moon-strokes which we never have here; but of which the Psalmist speaks when he says, 'The sun shall not smite thee by day, neither the moon by night.' And them the old Easterns worshipped in some wild confused way. But to Abraham it was revealed that the sun, the moon, and the stars were not Elohim--the high and mighty Ones. That there was but one Elohim, one high and mighty One, the Almighty maker of them all. He did not learn that, perhaps, at once. Indeed the Bible tells us how God taught him step by step, as he teaches all men, and revealed himself to him again and again, till he had taught Abraham all that he was to know. But he did teach him this; as a beautiful old story of the Arabs sets forth. They say how (whether before or after God called him, we cannot tell) Abraham at night saw a star: and he said, 'This is my Lord.' But when the star set, he said, 'I like not those who vanish away.' And when he saw the moon rising, he said, 'This is my Lord.' But when the moon too set, he said, 'Verily, if my Lord direct me not in the right way, I shall be as one who goeth astray.' But when he saw the sun rising, he said, 'This is my Lord: this is greater than star or moon.' But the sun went down likewise. Then said Abraham, 'O my people, I am clear of these things. I turn my face to him who hath made the heaven and the earth.' And was this all that Abraham believed--that the sun and moon and stars were not gods, but that there was a God besides, who had made them all? My friends, there have been thousands and tens of thousands since, I fear, who have believed as much as that, and yet who cannot call Abraham their spiritual father, who are not justified by faith with faithful Abraham. For merely to believe that, is a dead faith, which will never be counted for righteousness, because it will never make man a righteous man doing righteous and good deeds as Abraham did. Of Abraham it is written, that what he knew, he did. That his faith wrought with his works. And by his works his faith was made perfect. That when he gained faith in God, he went and acted on his faith. When God called him he went out, not knowing whither he went. His faith is only shown by his works. Because he believed in God he went and did things which he would not have done if he had not believed in God. Of him it is written, that he obeyed the voice of the Lord, and kept his charge, his commandments, his statutes, and his laws. In a word, he had not merely found out that there was one God, but that that one God was a good God, a God whom he must obey, and obey by being a good man. Therefore his faith was counted to him for righteousness, because it was righteousness, and made him do righteous deeds. He believed that God was helping him; therefore he had no need to oppress or overreach any man. He believed that God's eye was on him; therefore he dared not oppress or overreach any man. His faith in God made him brave. He went forth he knew not whither; but he had put his trust in God, and he did not fear. He and his three hundred slaves, born in his house, were not afraid to set out against the four Arab kings who had just conquered the five kings of the vale of Jordan, and plundered the whole land. Abraham and his little party of faithful slaves follow them for miles, and fall on them and defeat them utterly, setting the captives free, and bringing back all the plunder; and then, in return for all that he has done, Abraham will take nothing--not even, he says, 'a thread or a shoe-latchet--lest men should say, We have made Abraham rich.' And why? Because his faith in God made him high-minded, generous, and courteous; as when he bids Lot go whither he will with his flocks and herds. 'Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between thee and me. If thou wilt take the left hand, I will go to the right.' He is then, as again with the king of Sodom, and with the three strangers at the tent door, and with the children of Heth, when he is buying the cave of Machpelah for a burying-place for Sarah-- always and everywhere the same courteous, self-restrained, high- bred, high-minded man. It has been said that true religion will make a man a more thorough gentleman than all the courts in Europe. And it is true: you may see simple labouring men as thorough gentlemen as any duke, simply because they have learned to fear God; and fearing him, to restrain themselves, and to think of other people more than of themselves, which is the very root and essence of all good breeding. And such a man was Abraham of old--a plain man, dwelling in tents, helping to tend his own cattle, fetching in the calf from the field himself, and dressing it for his guests with his own hand; but still, as the children of Heth said of him, a mighty prince--not merely in wealth of flocks and herds, but a prince in manners and a prince in heart. But faith in God did more for Abraham than this: it made him a truly pious man--it made him the friend of God. There were others in Abraham's days who had some knowledge of the one true God. Lot his nephew, Abimelech, Aner, Eshcol, Mamre, and others, seem to have known whom Abraham meant when he spoke of the Almighty God. But of Abraham alone it is said that he believed God; that he trusted in God, and rested on him; was built up on God; rested on God as a child in the mother's arms--for this we are told, is the full meaning of the word in the Bible--and looked to God as his shield and his exceeding great reward. He trusted in God utterly, and it was counted to him for righteousness. And of Abraham alone it is said that he was the friend of God; that God spoke with him, and he with God. He first of all men of whom we read, at least since the time of Adam, knew what communion with God meant; knew that God spoke to him as a friend, a benefactor, a preserver, who was teaching and training him with a father's love and care; and felt that he in return could answer God, could open his heart to him, tell him not only of his wants, but of his doubts and fears. Yes, we may almost say, on the strength of the Bible, that Abraham was the first human being, as far as we know, who prayed with his heart and soul; who knew what true prayer means--the prayer of the heart, by which man draws near to God, and finds that God is near to him. This--this communion with God, is the especial glory of Abraham's character. This it is which has given him his name through all generations, The friend of God. Or, as his descendants the Arabs call him to this day, simply, 'The Friend.' This it is which gained him the name of the Father of the Faithful; the father of all who believe, whether they be descended from him, or whether they be, like us, of a different nation. This it is which has made a wise man say of Abraham, that if we will consider what he knew and did, and in what a dark age he lived, we shall see that Abraham may be (unless we except Moses) the greatest of mere human beings--that the human race may owe more to him than to any mortal man. But why need we learn from Abraham? we who, being Christians, know and believe the true faith so much more clearly than Abraham could do. Ah, my friends, it is easier to know than to believe, and easier to know than to do. Easier to talk of Abraham's faith than to have Abraham's faith. Easier to preach learned and orthodox sermons about how Abraham was justified by his faith, than to be justified ourselves by our own faith. And say not in your hearts, 'It was easy for Abraham to believe God. I should have believed of course in his place. If God spoke to me, of course I should obey him.' My friends, there is no greater and no easier mistake. God has spoken to many a man who has not believed him, neither obeyed him, and so he may to you. God spoke to Abraham, and he believed him and obeyed him. And why? Because there was in Abraham's heart something which there is not in all men's hearts--something which ANSWERED to God's call, and made him certain that the call was from God--even the Holy Spirit of God. So God may call you, and you may obey him, if only the Spirit of God be in you; but not else. MAY call you, did I say? God DOES call you and me, does speak to us, does command us, far more clearly than he did Abraham. We know the mystery of Christ, which in other ages was NOT made known to the sons of men as it is now revealed to his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit. God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spoke to the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken to us by his SON, Jesus Christ our Lord, and told us our duty, and the reward which doing our duty will surely bring, far more clearly than ever he did to Abraham. But do we listen to him? Do we say with Abraham, 'O my people, I am clear of all these things which rise and set, which are born and die, which begin and end in time, and turn my face to him that made heaven and earth!' If so, how is it that we see people everywhere worshipping not idols of wood and stone, but other things, all manner of things beside God, and saying, 'These are my Elohim. These are the high and mighty ones whom I must obey. These are the strong things on which depend my fortune and my happiness. I must obey THEM first, and let plain doing right and avoiding wrong come after as it can.' One worships the laws of trade, and says, 'I know this and that is hardly right; but it is in the way of business, and therefore I must do it.' One worships public opinion, and follows after the multitude to do evil, doing what he knows is wrong, simply because others do it, and it is the way of the world. One worships the interest of his party, whether in religion or in politics; and does for their sake mean and false, cruel and unjust things, which he would not do for his own private interest. Too many, even in a free country, worship great people, and put their trust in princes, saying, 'I am sorry to have to do this. I know it is rather mean; but I must, or I shall lose such and such a great man's interest and favour.' Or, 'I know I cannot afford this expense; but if I do not I shall not get into good society, and this person and that will not ask me to his house.' All, meanwhile, except a few, rich or poor, worship money; and believe more or less, in spite of the Lord's solemn warning to the contrary, that a man's life does consist in the abundance of the things which he possesses. These are the Elohim of this world, the high and mighty things to which men turn for help instead of to the living God, who was before all things, and will be after them; and behold they vanish away, and where then are those that have put their trust in them? But blessed is he whose trust is in God the Almighty, and whose hope is in the Lord Jehovah, the eternal I Am. Blessed is he who, like faithful Abraham, says to his family, 'My people, I am clear of all these things. I turn my face from them to him who hath made earth and heaven. I go through this world like Abraham, not knowing whither I go; but like Abraham, I fear not, for I go whither God sends me. I rest on God; he is my defence, and my exceeding great reward. To have known him, loved him, obeyed him, is reward enough, even if I do not, as the world would say, succeed in life. Therefore I long not for power and honour, riches and pleasure. I am content to do my duty faithfully in that station of life to which God has called me, and to be forgiven for all my failings and shortcomings for the sake of Jesus Christ our Lord, and that is enough for me; for I believe in my Father in heaven, and believe that he knows best for me and for my children. He has not promised me, as he promised Abraham, to make of me a great nation; but he has promised that the righteous man shall never be deserted, or his children beg their bread. He has promised to keep his covenant and mercy to a thousand generations with those who keep his commandments and do them; and that is enough for me. In God have I put my trust, and I will not fear what man, or earth, or heaven, or any created thing can do unto me.' Blessed is that man, whether he inherit honourably great estates from his ancestors, or whether he make honourably great wealth and station for himself; whether he spend his life quietly and honestly in the country farm or in the village shop, or whether he simply earn his bread from week to week by plough and spade. Blessed is he, and blessed are his children after him. For he is a son of Abraham; and of him God hath said, as of Abraham, 'I know him that he will command his children and household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment, that the Lord may bring on him the blessing which he has spoken.' Yes; blessed is that man. He has chosen his share of Abraham's faith; and he and his children after him shall have their share of Abraham's blessing. SERMON VI. JACOB AND ESAU (Second Sunday in Lent.) GENESIS xxv. 29-34. And Jacob sod pottage: and Esau came from the field, and he was faint: And Esau said to Jacob, Feed me, I pray thee, with that same red pottage; for I am faint: therefore was his name called Edom. And Jacob said, Sell me this day thy birthright. And Esau said, Behold, I am at the point to die: and what profit shall this birthright do to me? And Jacob said, Swear to me this day; and he sware unto him: and he sold his birthright unto Jacob. Then Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentiles; and he did eat and drink, and rose up, and went his way: thus Esau despised his birthright. I have been telling you of late that the Bible is the revelation of God. But how does the story of Jacob and Esau reveal God to us? What further lesson concerning God do we learn therefrom? I think that if we will take the story simply as it stands we shall see easily enough. For it is all simple and natural enough. Jacob and Esau, we shall see, were men of like passions with ourselves; men as we are, mixed up of good and evil, sometimes right and sometimes wrong: and God rewarded them when they did right, and punished them when they did wrong, just as he does with us now. They were men, though, of very different characters: we may see men like them now every day round us. Esau, we read, was a hunter--a man of the field; a bold, fierce, active man; generous, brave, and kind-hearted, as the end of his story shows: but with just the faults which such a man would have. He was hasty, reckless, and fond of pleasure; passionate too, and violent. Have we not seen just such men again and again, and liked them for what was good in them, and been sorry too that they were not more sober and reasonable, and true to themselves? Jacob was the very opposite kind of man. He was a plain man--what we call a still, solid, prudent, quiet man--and a dweller in tents: he lived peaceably, looking after his father's flocks and herds; while Esau liked better the sport and danger of hunting wild beasts, and bringing home venison to his father. Now Jacob, we see, was of course a more thoughtful man than Esau. He kept more quiet, and so had more time to think: and he had plainly thought a great deal over God's promise to his grandfather Abraham. He believed that God had promised Abraham that he would make his seed as the sand of the sea for multitude, and give them that fair land of Canaan, and that in his seed all the families of the earth should be blessed; and that seemed to him, and rightly, a very grand and noble thing. And he set his heart on getting that blessing for himself, and supplanting his elder brother Esau, and being the heir of the promises in his stead. Well--that was mean and base and selfish perhaps: but there is somewhat of an excuse for Jacob's conduct, in the fact that he and Esau were twins; that in one sense neither of them was older than the other. And you must recollect, that it was not at all a regular custom in the East for the eldest son to be his father's heir, as it is in England. You find that few or none of the great kings of the Jews were eldest sons. The custom was not kept up as it is here. So Jacob may have said to himself, and not have been very wrong in saying it: 'I have as good a right to the birthright as Esau. My father loves him best because he brings him in venison; but I know the value of the honour which is before my family. Surely the one of us who cares most about the birthright will be most fit to have it, and ought to have it; and Esau cares nothing for it, while I do.' So Jacob, in his cunning, bargaining way, took advantage of his brother's weak, hasty temper, and bought his birthright of him, as the text tells. That story shows us what sort of a man Esau was: hasty, careless, fond of the good things of this life. He had no reason to complain if he lost his birthright. He did not care for it, and so he had thrown it away. Perhaps he forgot what he had done; but his sin found him out, as our sins are sure to find each of us out. The day came when he wanted his birthright and could not have it, and found no place for repentance--that is, no chance of undoing what he had done--though he sought it carefully with tears. He had sown, and he must reap; he had made his bed, and he must lie on it. And so must Jacob in his turn. Now this, I think, is just what the story teaches us concerning God. God chooses Abraham's family to grow into a great nation, and to be a peculiar people. The next question will be: If God favours that family, will he do unjust things to help them?--will he let them do unjust things to help themselves? The Bible answers positively, No. God will not be unjust or arbitrary in choosing one man and rejecting another. If he chooses Jacob, it is because Jacob is fit for the work which God wants done. If he rejects Esau, it is because Esau is not fit. It is natural, I know, to pity poor Esau; but one has no right to do more. One has no right to fancy for a moment that God was arbitrary or hard upon him. Esau is not the sort of man to be the father of a great nation, or of anything else great. Greedy, passionate, reckless people like him, without due feeling of religion or of the unseen world, are not the men to govern the world, or help it forward, or be of use to mankind, or train up their families in justice and wisdom and piety. If there had been no people in the world but people like Esau, we should be savages at this day, without religion or civilization of any kind. They are of the earth, earthy; dust they are, and unto dust they will return. It is men like Jacob whom God chooses--men who have a feeling of religion and the unseen world; men who can look forward, and live by faith, and form plans for the future--and carry them out too, against disappointment and difficulty, till they succeed. Look at one side of Jacob's character--his perseverance. He serves seven years for Rachel, because he loves her. Then when he is cheated, and Leah given him instead, he serves seven years more for Rachel--'and they seemed to him a short time, for the love he bore to her;' and then he serves seven years more for the flocks and herds. A slave, or little better than a slave, of his own free will, for one-and-twenty years, to get what he wanted. Those are the men whom God uses, and whom God prospers. Men with deep hearts and strong wills, who set their minds on something which they cannot see, and work steadfastly for it, till they get it; for God gives it to them in good time--when patience has had her perfect work upon their characters, and made them fit for success. Esau, we find, got some blessing--the sort of blessing he was fit for. He loved his father, and he was rewarded. 'And Isaac his father answered and said unto him, Behold, thy dwelling shall be the fatness of the earth, and of the dew of heaven from above; and by thy sword shalt thou live, and shalt serve thy brother; and it shall come to pass when thou shalt have the dominion, that thou shalt break his yoke from off thy neck.' He was a brave, generous-hearted man, in spite of his faults. He was to live the free hunter's life which he loved; and we find that he soon became the head of a wild powerful tribe, and his sons after him. Dukes of Edom they were called for several generations; but they never rose to any solid and lasting power; they never became a great nation, as Jacob's children did. They were just what one would expect--wild, unruly, violent people. They have long since perished utterly off the face of the earth. And what did Jacob get, who so meanly bought the birthright, and cheated his father out of the blessing? Trouble in the flesh; vanity and vexation of spirit. He had to flee from his father's house; never to see his mother again; to wander over the deserts to kinsmen who cheated him as he had cheated others; to serve Laban for twenty-one years; to crouch miserably in fear and trembling, as a petitioner for his life before Esau whom he had wronged, and to be made more ashamed than ever, by finding that generous Esau had forgiven and forgotten all. Then to see his daughter brought to shame, his sons murderers, plotting against their own brother, his favourite son; to see his grey hairs going down with sorrow to the grave; to confess to Pharaoh, after one hundred and twenty years of life, that few and evil had been the days of his pilgrimage. Then did his faith in God win no reward? Not so. That was his reward, to be chastened and punished, till his meanness was purged out of him. He had taken God for his guide; and God did guide him accordingly; though along a very different path from what he expected. God accepted his faith, delivered his soul, gave him rest and peace at last in his old age in Egypt, let him find his son Joseph again in power and honour: but all along God punished his own inventions--as he will punish yours and mine, my friends, all the while that he may be accepting our faith and delivering our souls, because we trust in him. So God rewarded Jacob by giving him more light: by not leaving him to himself, and his own darkness and meanness, but opening his eyes to understand the wondrous things of God's law, and showing him how God's law is everlasting, righteous, not to be escaped by any man; how every action brings forth its appointed fruit; how those who sow the wind will reap the whirlwind. Jacob's first notion was like the notion of the heathen in all times, 'My God has a special favour for me, therefore I may do what I like. He will prosper me in doing wrong; he will help me to cheat my father.' But God showed him that that was just not what he would do for him. He would help and protect him; but only while he was doing RIGHT. God would not alter his moral laws for him or any man. God would be just and righteous; and Jacob must be so likewise, till he learnt to trust not merely in a God who happened to have a special favour to him, but in the righteous God who loves justice, and wishes to make men righteous even as he is righteous, and will make them righteous, if they trust in him. That was the reward of Jacob's faith--the best reward which any man can have. He was taught to know God, whom truly to know is everlasting life. And this, it seems to me, is the great revelation concerning God which we learn from the history of Jacob and Esau. That God, how much soever favour he may show to certain persons, is still, essentially and always, a just God. And now, my friends, if any of you are tempted to follow Jacob's example, take warning betimes. You will be tempted. There are men among you--there are in every congregation--who are, like Jacob, sober, industrious, careful, prudent men, and fairly religious too; men who have the good sense to see that Solomon's proverbs are true, and that the way to wealth and prosperity is to fear God, and keep his commandments. May you prosper; may God's blessing be upon your labour; may you succeed in life, and see your children well settled and thriving round you, and go down to the grave in peace. But never forget, my good friends, that you will be tempted as Jacob was--to be dishonest. I cannot tell why; but professedly religious men, in all countries, in all religions, are, and always have been, tempted in that way--to be mean and cunning and false at times. It is so, and there is no denying it: when all other sins are shut out from them by their religious profession, and their care for their own character, and their fear of hell, the sin of lying, for some strange reason, is left open to them; and to it they are tempted to give way. For God's sake--for the sake of Christ, who was full of grace and truth--for your own sakes--struggle against that. Unless you wish to say at last with poor old Jacob, 'Few and evil have been the days of my pilgrimage;' struggle against that. If you fear God and believe that he is with you, God will prosper your plans and labour; but never make that an excuse for saying in your hearts, like Jacob, 'God intends that I should have these good things; therefore I may take them for myself by unfair means.' The birthright is yours. It is you, the steady, prudent, God-fearing ones, who will prosper on the earth, and not poor wild, hot-headed Esau. But do not make that an excuse for robbing and cheating Esau, because he is not as thoughtful as you are. The Lord made him as well as you; and died for him as well as for you; and wills his salvation as well as yours; and if you cheat him the Lord will avenge him speedily. If you give way to meanness, covetousness, falsehood, as Jacob did, you will rue it; the Lord will enter into judgment with you quickly, and all the more quickly because he loves you. Because there is some right in you--because you are on the whole on the right road--the Lord will visit you with disappointment and affliction, and make your own sins your punishment. If you deceive other people, other people shall deceive you, as they did Jacob. If you lay traps, you shall fall into them yourselves, as Jacob did. If you fancy that because you trust in God, God will overlook any sin in you, as Jacob did, you shall see, as Jacob did, that your sin shall surely find you out. The Lord will be more sharp and severe with you than with Esau. And why? Because he has given you more, and requires more of you; and therefore he will chastise you, and sift you like wheat, till he has parted the wheat from the tares. The wheat is your faith, your belief that if you trust in God he will prosper you, body and soul. That is God's good seed, which he has sown in you. The tares are your fancies that you may do wrong and mean things to help yourselves, because God has an especial favour for you. That is the devil's sowing, which God will burn out of you by the fire of affliction, as he did out of Jacob, and keep your faith safe, as good seed in his garner, for the use of your children after you, that you may teach them to walk in God's commandments and serve him in spirit and in truth. For God is a God of truth, and no liar shall stand in his sight, let him be never so religious; he requires truth in the inward parts, and truth he will have; and whom he loves he will chasten, as he chastened Jacob of old, till he has made him understand that honesty is the best policy; and that whatever false prophets may tell you, there is not one law for the believer and another for the unbeliever; but whatsoever a man sows, that shall he reap, and receive the due reward of the deeds done in the body, whether they be good or evil. SERMON VII. JOSEPH (Preached on the Sunday before the Wedding of the Prince of Wales. March 8th, third Sunday in Lent.) GENESIS xxxix. 9. How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God? The story of Joseph is one which will go home to all healthy hearts. Every child can understand, every child can feel with it. It is a story for all men and all times. Even if it had not been true, and not real fact, but a romance of man's invention, it would have been loved and admired by men; far more then, when we know that it is true, that it actually did so happen; that is part and parcel of the Holy Scriptures. We all, surely, know the story--How Joseph's brethren envy him and sell him for a slave into Egypt--how there for a while he prospers-- how his master's wife tempts him--how he is thrown into prison on her slander--how there again he prospers--how he explains the dreams of Pharaoh's servants--how he lies long forgotten in the prison--how at last Pharaoh sends for him to interpret a dream for him, and how he rises to power and great glory--how his brothers come down to Egypt to buy corn, and how they find him lord of all the land--how subtilly he tries them to see if they have repented of their old sin--how his heart yearns over them in spite of all their wickedness to him--how at last he reveals himself, and forgives them utterly, and sends for his poor old father Jacob down into Egypt. Whosoever does not delight in that story, simply as a story, whenever he hears it read, cannot have a wholesome human heart in him. But why was this story of Joseph put into Holy Scripture, and at such length, too? It seems, at first sight, to be simply a family history--the story of brothers and their father; it seems, at first sight, to teach us nothing concerning our redemption and salvation; it seems, at first sight, not to reveal anything fresh to us concerning God; it seems, at first sight, not to be needed for the general plan of the Bible history. It tells us, of course, how the Israelites first came into Egypt; and that was necessary for us to know. But the Bible might have told us that in ten verses. Why has it spent upon the story of Joseph and his brethren, not ten verses, but ten chapters? Now we have a right to ask such questions as these, if we do not ask them out of any carping, fault-finding spirit, trying to pick holes in the Bible, from which God defend us and all Christian men. If we ask such questions in faith and reverence--that is, believing and taking for granted that the Bible is right, and respecting it, as the Book of books, in which our own forefathers and all Christian nations upon earth for many ages have found all things necessary for their salvation--if, I say, we question over the Bible in that child-like, simple, respectful spirit, which is the true spirit of wisdom and understanding, by which our eyes will be truly opened to see the wondrous things of God's law: then we may not only seek as our Lord bade us, but we shall find, as our Lord prophesied that we should. We shall find some good reason for this story of Joseph being so long, and find that the story of Joseph, like all the rest of the Bible, reveals a new lesson to us concerning God and the character of God. I said that the story of Joseph looks, at first sight, to be merely a family history. But suppose that that were the very reason why it is in the Bible, because it is a family history. Suppose that families were very sacred things in the eyes of God. That the ties of husband and wife, parent and child, brother and sister, were appointed, not by man, but by God. Then would not Joseph's story be worthy of being in the Bible? Would it not, as I said it would, reveal something fresh to us concerning God and the character of God? Consider now, my friends: Is it not one great difference--one of the very greatest--between men and beasts, that men live in families, and beasts do not? That men have the sacred family feeling, and beasts have not? They have the beginnings of it, no doubt. The mother, among beasts, feels love to her children, but only for a while. God has implanted in her something of that deepest, holiest, purest of all feelings--a mother's love. But as soon as her young ones are able to take care of themselves, they are nothing to her--among the lower animals, less than nothing. The fish or the crocodile will take care of her eggs jealously, and as soon as they are hatched, turn round and devour her own young. The feeling of a FATHER to his child, again, you find is fainter still among beasts. The father, as you all know, not only cares little for his offspring, even if he sometimes helps to feed them at first, but is often jealous of them, hates them, will try to kill them when they grow up. Husband and wife, again: there is no sacredness between them among dumb animals. A lasting and an unselfish attachment, not merely in youth, but through old age and beyond the grave--what is there like this among the animals, except in the case of certain birds, like the dove and the eagle, who keep the same mate year after year, and have been always looked on with a sort of affection and respect by men for that very reason? But where, among beasts, do you ever find any trace of those two sacred human feelings--the love of brother to brother, or of child to father? Where do you find the notion that the tie between husband and wife is a sacred thing, to be broken at no temptation, but in man? These are THE feelings which man has alone of all living animals. These then, remember, are the very family feelings which come out in the story of Joseph. He honours holy wedlock when he tells his master's wife, 'How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?' He honours his father, when he is not ashamed of him, wild shepherd out of the desert though he might be, and an abomination to the Egyptians, while he himself is now in power and wealth and glory, as a prince in a civilized country. He honours the tie of brother to brother, by forgiving and weeping over the very brothers who have sold him into slavery. But what has all this to do with God? Now man, as we know, is an animal with an immortal spirit in him. He has, as St. Paul so carefully explains to us, a flesh and a spirit--a flesh like the beasts which perish; a spirit which comes from God. Now the Bible teaches us that man did not get these family feelings from his flesh, from the animal, brute part of him. They are not carnal, but spiritual. He gets them from his spirit, and they are inspired into him by the Spirit of God. They come not from the earth below, but from the heaven above; from the image of God, in which man alone of all living things was made. For if it were not so, we should surely see some family feeling in the beasts which are most like men. But we do not. In the apes, which are, in their shape and fleshly nature, so strangely and shockingly like human beings, there is not as much family feeling as there is in many birds, or even insects. Nay, the wild negroes, among whom they live, hold them in abhorrence, and believe that they were once men like themselves, who were gradually changed into brute beasts, by giving way to detestable sins; while these very negroes themselves, heathens and savages as they are, HAVE the family feeling--the feeling of husband for wife, father for child, brother for brother; not, indeed, as strongly and purely as we, or at least those of us who are really Christian and civilized, but still they have it; and that makes between the lowest man and the highest brute a difference which I hold is as wide as the space between heaven and earth. It is man alone, I say, who has the idea of family; and who has, too, the strange, but most true belief that these family ties are appointed by God--that they are a part of his religion--that in breaking them, by being an unfaithful husband, a dishonest servant, an unnatural son, a selfish brother, he sins, not only against man, and man's order and laws, but against God. Parent and child, brother and sister--those ties are not of the earth earthy, but of the heaven of God, eternal. They may begin in time; of what happened before we came into this world we know nought. But having begun, they cannot end. Of what will happen after we leave this world, that at least we know in part. Parent and child; brother and sister; husband and wife likewise; these are no ties of man's invention. They are ties of God's binding; they are patterns and likenesses of his substance, and of his being. Of the eternal Father, who says for ever to the eternal Son, 'This day have I begotten THEE.' Of the Son who says for ever to the Father, 'I come to do thy will, O God.' Of the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who is not ashamed to call us his brethren; but like a greater Joseph, was sent before by God to save our lives with a great deliverance when our forefathers were but savages and heathens. Husband and wife likewise--are not they two divine words- -not human words at all? Has not God consecrated the state of matrimony to such an excellent mystery, that in it is signified and represented the mystical union between Christ and his Church? Are not husbands to love their wives, and give themselves for them as Christ loved the Church and gave himself for it? That, indeed, was not revealed in the Old Testament, but it is revealed in the New; and marriage, like all other human ties, is holy and divine, and comes from God down to men. Yes. These family ties are of God. It was to show us how sacred, how Godlike they are--how eternal and necessary for all mankind-- that Joseph's story was written in Holy Scripture. They are of God, I say. And he who despises them, despises not man but God; who hath also given us his Holy Spirit to make us know how sacred these bonds are. He who looks lightly on the love of child to parent, or brother to brother, or husband to wife, and bids each man please himself, each man help himself, and shift for himself, would take away from men the very thing which raises them above the beasts which perish, and lower them again to the likeness of the flesh, that they may of the flesh reap corruption. They who, under whatever pretence of religion part asunder families; or tell children, like the wicked Pharisees of old, that they may say to their parents, Corban--'I have given to God the service and help which, as your child, I should have given to you'--shall be called, if not by men, at least by God himself, hypocrites, who draw near to God with their mouths, and honour him with their lips, while their heart is far from him. I think now we may see that I was right when I said--Perhaps the history of Joseph is in the Bible because it IS a family history. For see, it is the history of a man who loved his family, who felt that family life was holy and God-appointed; whom God rewarded with honour and wealth, because he honoured family ties; because he refused his master's wife; because he rewarded his brothers good for evil; because he was not ashamed of his father, but succoured him in his old age. It is the history of a man who--more than four hundred years before God gave the ten commandments on Sinai, saying, Honour thy father and mother, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not kill in revenge, Thou shalt not covet aught of thy neighbours--It is the history, I say, of a man who had those laws of God written in his heart by the Holy Spirit of God; and felt that to break them was to sin against God. It is the history of a man who, sorely tempted and unjustly persecuted, kept himself pure and true; who, while all around him, beginning with his own brothers, were trampling under foot the laws of family, felt that the laws were still there round him, girding him in with everlasting bands, and saying to him, Thou shalt and Thou shalt not; that he was not sent into the world to do just what was pleasant for the moment, to indulge his own passions or his own revenge; but that if he was indeed a man, he must prove himself a man, by obeying Almighty God. It is the history of a man who kept his heart pure and tender, and who thereby gained strange and deep wisdom; that wisdom which comes only to the pure in heart; that wisdom by which truly good men are enabled to see farther, and to be of more use to their fellow-creatures than many a cunning and crooked politician, whose eyes are blinded, because his heart is defiled with sin. And now, my friends, if we pray--as we are bound to pray--for that great Prince who is just entering on the cares and the duties, as well as the joys and blessings of family life--what better prayer can we offer up for him, than that God would put into his heart that spirit which he put into the heart of Joseph of old--the spirit to see how divine and God-appointed is family life? God grant that that spirit may dwell in him, and possess him more and more day by day. That it may keep him true to his wife, true to his mother, true to his family, true, like Joseph, to all with whom he has to deal. That it may deliver him, as it delivered Joseph, from the snares of wicked women, from selfish politicians, if they ever try to sow distrust and opposition between him and his kindred, and from all those temptations which can only be kept down by the Spirit of God working in men's hearts, as he worked in the heart of Joseph. For if that spirit be in the Prince--and I doubt not that that spirit is in him already--then will his fate be that of Joseph; then will he indeed be a blessing to us, and to our children after us; then will he have riches more real, and power more vast, than any which our English laws can give; then will he gain, like Joseph, that moral wisdom, better than all worldly craft, which cometh from above--first pure, then gentle, easy to be entreated, without partiality, and without hypocrisy; then will he be able, like Joseph, to deliver his people in times of perplexity and distress; then will he by his example, as his noble mother has done before him, keep healthy, pure, and strong, our English family life--and as long as THAT endures, Old England will endure likewise. SERMON VIII. THE BIBLE THE GREAT CIVILIZER (Fourth Sunday in Lent.) PHILIPPIANS iv. 8. Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. It may not be easy to see what this text has to do with the story of Joseph, which we have just been reading, or with the meaning of the Bible of which I have been speaking to you of late. Nevertheless, I think it has to do with them; as you will see if you will look at the text with me. Now the text does not say 'Do these things.' It only says 'THINK of these things.' Of course St. Paul wished us to do them also; but he says first THINK of them; not once in a way, but often and continually. Fill your mind with good and pure and noble thoughts; and then you will do good and pure and noble things. For out of the abundance of a man's heart, not only does his mouth speak, but his whole body and soul behave. The man whose mind is filled with low and bad thoughts will be sure, when he is tempted, to do low and bad things. The man whose mind is filled with lofty and good thoughts will do lofty and good things. For thoughts are the food of a man's mind; and as the mind feeds, so will it grow. If it feeds on coarse and foul food, coarse and foul it will grow. If it feeds on pure and refined food, pure and refined it will grow. There are those who do not believe this. Provided they are tolerably attentive to the duties of religion, it does not matter much, they fancy, what they think of out of church. Their souls will be saved at last, they suppose, and that is all that they need care for. Saved? They do not see that by giving way to foul, mean, foolish thoughts all the week they are losing their souls, destroying their souls, defiling their souls, lowering their souls, and making them so coarse and mean and poor that they are not worth saving, and are no loss to heaven or earth, whatever loss they may be to the man himself. One man thinks of nothing but money--how he shall save a penny here and a penny there. I do not mean men of business; for them there are great excuses; for it is by continual saving here and there that their profits are made. I speak rather of people who have no excuse, people of fixed incomes--people often wealthy and comfortable, who yet will lower their minds by continually thinking over their money. But this I say, and this I am sure that you will find, that when a man in business or out of business accustoms himself, as very many do, to think of nothing but money, money, money from Monday morning to Saturday night, he thinks of money a great part of Sunday likewise. And so, after a while, the man lowers his soul, and makes it mean and covetous. He forgets all that is lovely and of good report. He forgets virtue--that is manliness; and praise--that is the just respect and admiration of his fellow-men; and so he forgets at last things true, honest, and just likewise. He lowers his soul; and therefore when he is tempted, he does things mean and false and unjust, for the sake of money, which he has made his idol. Take another case, too common among men and women of all ranks, high and low. How many there are who love gossip and scandal; who always talk about people, and never about things--certainly not about things pure and lovely and of good report, but rather about things foul and ugly and of bad report; who do not talk, because they do not think of virtue, but of vice; or of praise either, because they are always finding fault with their neighbours. The man who loves a foul story, or a coarse jest--the woman who gossips over every tittle tattle of scandal which she can pick up against her neighbour--what do these people do but defile their own souls afresh, after they have been washed clean in the blood of Christ? Foul their souls are, and therefore their thoughts are foul likewise, and the foulness of them is evident to all men by their tongues. Out of their hearts proceed evil thoughts about their neighbours, out of the abundance of their hearts their mouths speak them. Now let such people, if there be any such here, seriously consider the harm which they are doing to their own characters. They may give way to the habits of scandal, or of coarse talk, without any serious bad intention; but they will surely lower their own souls thereby. They will grow to the colour of what they feed on and become foul and cruel, from talking cruelly and foully, till they lose all purity and all charity, all faith and trust in their fellow-men, all power of seeing good in any one, or doing anything but think evil; and so lose the likeness of God and of Christ, for the likeness of some foul carrion bird, which cares nothing for the perfume of all the roses in the world, but if there be a carcase within miles of it, will scent it out eagerly and fly to it ravenously. The truth is, my friends, that these souls of ours instead of being pure and strong, are the very opposite; and the article speaks plain truth when it says, that we are every one of us of our own nature inclined to evil. That may seem a hard saying; but if we look at our own thoughts we shall find it true. Are we NOT inclined to take, at first, the worst view of everybody and of everything? Are we NOT inclined to suspect harm of this person and of that? Are we NOT inclined too often to be mean and cowardly? to be hard and covetous? to be coarse and vulgar? to be silly and frivolous? Do we not need to cool down, to think a second time, and a third time likewise; to remember our duty, to remember Christ's example, before we can take a just and kind and charitable view? Do we not want all the help which we can get from every quarter, to keep ourselves high-minded and refined; to keep ourselves from bad thoughts, mean thoughts, silly thoughts, violent thoughts, cruel and hard thoughts? If we have not found out that, we must have looked a very little way into ourselves, and know little more about ourselves than a dumb animal does of itself. How then shall we keep off coarseness of soul? How shall we keep our souls REFINED? that is, true and honest, pure, amiable, full of virtue, that is, true manliness; and deserve praise, that is, the respect and admiration of our fellow-men? By thinking of those very things, says St. Paul. And in order to be able to think of them, by reading of them. There are very few who can easily think of these things of themselves. Their daily business, the words and notions of the people with whom they have to do, will run in their minds, and draw them off from higher and better thoughts; that cannot be helped. The only thing that most men can do, is to take care that they are not drawn off entirely from high and good thoughts, by reading, were it but for five minutes every day, something really worth thinking of, something which will lift them above themselves. Above all, it is wise, at night, after the care and bustle of the day is over, to read, but for a few minutes, some book which will compose and soothe the mind; which will bring us face to face with the true facts of life, death, and eternity; which will make us remember that man doth not live by bread alone; which will give us, before we sleep, a few thoughts worthy of a Christian man, with an immortal soul in him. And, thank God, no one need go far to look for such books. I do not mean merely religious books, excellent as they are in these days: I mean any books which help to make us better and wiser and soberer, and more charitable persons; any books which will teach us to despise what is vulgar and mean, foul and cruel, and to love what is noble and high-minded, pure and just. We need not go far for them. In our own noble English language we may read by hundreds, books which will tell us of all virtue and of all praise. The stories of good and brave men and women; of gallant and heroic actions; of deeds which we ourselves should be proud of doing; of persons whom we feel, to be better, wiser, nobler than we are ourselves. In our own language we may read the history of our own nation, and whatsoever is just, honest and true. We may read of God's gracious providences toward this land. How he has punished our sins and rewarded our right and brave endeavours. How he put into our forefathers the spirit of courage and freedom, the spirit of truth and justice, the spirit of loyalty and order; and how, following the leading of that spirit, in spite of many mistakes and failings, we have risen to be the freest, the happiest, the most powerful people on earth, a blessing and not a curse to the nations around. In our own English tongue, too, we may read such poetry as there is in no other language in the world; poetry which will make us indeed see the beauty of whatsoever things are lovely and of good report. Some people have still a dislike of what they call foolish poetry books. If books are foolish, let us have nothing to do with them. But poetry ought not to be foolish; for God sent it into the world to teach men not foolishness, but the highest wisdom. He gave man alone, of all living creatures, the power of writing poetry, that by poetry he might understand, not only how necessary it was to do right, but how beautiful and noble it was to do right. He sent it into the world to soften men's rough hearts, and quiet their angry passions, and make them love all which is tender and gentle, loving and merciful, and yet to rouse them up to love all which is gallant and honourable, loyal and patriotic, devout and heavenly. Therefore whole books of the Bible--Job, for example, Isaiah, and the Psalms-- are neither more nor less than actual poetry, written in actual verse, that their words might the better sink down into the ears and hearts of the old Jews, and of us Christians after them. And therefore also, we keep up still the good old custom of teaching children in school as much as possible by poetry, that they may learn not only to know, but to love and remember whatsoever things are lovely and of good report. Lastly, for those who cannot read, or have really no time to read, there is one means left of putting themselves in mind of what every one must remember, lest he sink back into an animal and a savage. I mean by pictures; which, as St. Augustine said 1400 years ago, are the books of the unlearned. I do not mean grand and expensive pictures; I mean the very simplest prints, provided they represent something holy, or noble, or tender, or lovely. A few such prints upon a cottage-wall may teach the people who live therein much, without their being aware of it. They see the prints, even when they are not thinking of them; and so they have before their eyes a continual remembrancer of something better and more beautiful than what they are apt to find in their own daily life and thoughts. True, to whom little is given, of them is little required. But it must be said, that more--far more--is given to labouring men and women now than was given to their forefathers. A hundred, or even fifty years ago, when there was very little schooling; when the books which were put even into the hands of noblemen's children were far below what you will find now in any village school; when the only pictures which a poor woman could buy to lay on her cottage- wall were equally silly and ugly: then there were great excuses for the poor, if they forgot whatsoever things were lovely and of good report; if they were often coarse and brutal in their manners, and cruel and profligate in their amusements. But even in the rough old times there always were a few at least, men and women, who were above the rest; who, though poor people like the rest, were still true gentlemen and ladies of God's making. People who kept themselves more or less unspotted from the world; who thought of what was honest and pure and lovely and of good report; and who lived a life of simple, manful, Christian virtue, and received the praise and respect of their neighbours, even although their neighbours did not copy them. There were always such people, and there always will be--thank God for it, for they are the salt of the earth. But why have there always been such people? and why do I say confidently, that there always will be? Because they have had the Bible; and because, once having got the Bible in a free country, no man can take it from them. The Bible it is which has made gentlemen and ladies of many a poor man and woman. The Bible it is which has filled their minds with pure and noble, ay, with heavenly and divine thoughts. The Bible has been their whole library. The Bible has been their only counsellor. The Bible has taught them all they know. But it has taught them enough. It has taught them what God is, and what Christ is. It has taught them what man is, and what a Christian man should be. It has taught them what a family means, and what a nation means. It has taught them the meaning of law and duty, of loyalty and patriotism. It has filled their minds with things honest and just and lovely and of good report; with the histories of men and women like themselves, who sinned and sorrowed and struggled like them in this hard battle of life, but who conquered at last, by trusting and obeying God. This one story of Joseph, which we have been reading again this Sunday, I do not doubt that it has taught thousands who had no other story-book to read--who could not even read themselves, but had to listen to others' reading; that it has taught them to be good sons, to be good brothers; that it has taught them to keep pure in temptation, and patient and honest under oppression and wrong; that it has stirred in them a noble ambition to raise themselves in life; and taught them, at the same time, that the only safe and sure way of rising is to fear God and keep his commandments; and so has really done more to civilize and refine them--to make them truly civilized men and gentlemen, and not vulgar savages--than if they had known a smattering of a dozen sciences. I say that the Bible is the book which civilizes and refines, and ennobles rich and poor, high and low, and has been doing so for fifteen hundred years; and that any man who tries to shake our faith in the Bible, is doing what he can--though, thank God, he will not succeed--to make such rough and coarse heathens of us again as our forefathers were five hundred years ago. And I tell you, labouring people, that if you want something which will make up to you for the want of all the advantages which the rich have--go to your Bibles and you will find it there. There you will find, in the history of men like ourselves--and, above all, in the history of a man unlike ourselves, the perfect Man--perfect Man and perfect God together--whatsoever is true, whatsoever is honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report; every virtue, and every just cause of praise which mortal man can desire. Read of them in your Bible, think of them in your hearts, feed on them with your souls, that your souls may grow like what they feed on; and above all, read and study the story and character of Jesus Christ himself, our Lord, that beholding, as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, you may be changed into his likeness, from grace to grace, and virtue to virtue, and glory to glory. And that change and that growth are as easy for the poor as for the rich, and as necessary for the rich as for the poor. SERMON IX. MOSES (Fifth Sunday in Lent.) EXODUS iii. 14. And God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM. And now, my friends, we are come, on this Sunday, to the most beautiful, and the most important story of the whole Bible-- excepting of course, the story of our Lord Jesus Christ--the story of how a family grew to be a great nation. You remember that I told you that the history of the Jews, had been only, as yet, the history of a family. Now that family is grown to be a great tribe, a great herd of people, but not yet a nation; one people, with its own God, its own worship, its own laws; but such a mere tribe, or band of tribes as the gipsies are among us now; a herd, but not a nation. Then the Bible tells us how these tribes, being weak I suppose because they had no laws, nor patriotism, nor fellow-feeling of their own, became slaves, and suffered for hundreds of years under crafty kings and cruel taskmasters. Then it tells us how God delivered them out of their slavery, and made them free men. And how God did that (for God in general works by means), by the means of a man, a prophet and a hero, one great, wise, and good man of their race--Moses. It tells us, too, how God trained Moses, by a very strange education, to be the fit man to deliver his people. Let us go through the history of Moses; and we shall see how God trained him to do the work for which God wanted him. Let us read from the account of the Bible itself. I should be sorry to spoil its noble simplicity by any words of my own: 'And the children of Israel were fruitful, and increased abundantly, and multiplied, and waxed exceeding mighty; and the land was filled with them. Now there arose up a new king over Egypt, which knew not Joseph. And he said unto his people, Behold, the people of the children of Israel are more and mightier than we: Come on, let us deal wisely with them; lest they multiply, and it come to pass, that, when there falleth out any war, they join also unto our enemies, and fight against us, and so get them up out of the land. Therefore they did set over them taskmasters to afflict them with their burdens. And they built for Pharaoh treasure cities, Pithon and Raamses. . . . And Pharaoh charged all his people, saying, Every son that is born ye shall cast into the river, and every daughter ye shall save alive. And there went a man of the house of Levi, and took to wife a daughter of Levi. And the woman conceived and bare a son: and when she saw him that he was a goodly child, she hid him three months. And when she could no longer hide him, she took for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch, and put the child therein: and she laid it in the flags by the river's brink. And his sister stood afar off, to wit what would be done to him. And the daughter of Pharaoh came down to wash herself at the river; and her maidens walked along by the river's side; and when she saw the ark among the flags, she sent her maid to fetch it. And when she had opened it, she saw the child; and behold the babe wept. And she had compassion on him, and said, This is one of the Hebrews' children. Then said his sister to Pharaoh's daughter, Shall I go and call to thee a nurse of the Hebrew women, that she may nurse the child for thee? And Pharaoh's daughter said to her, Go. And the maid went and called the child's mother. And Pharaoh's daughter said unto her, Take this child away, and nurse it for me, and I will give thee thy wages. And the woman took the child, and nursed it. And the child grew, and she brought him unto Pharaoh's daughter, and he became her son. And she called his name Moses: and she said, Because I drew him out of the water.' Moses, the child of the water. St. Paul in the Epistle to the Hebrews says that Moses was called the son of Pharaoh's daughter; that is, adopted by her. We read elsewhere that he was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, of which there can be no doubt from his own writings, especially that part called Moses' law. So that Moses had from his youth vast advantages. Brought up in the court of the greatest king of the world, in one of the greatest cities of the world, among the most learned priesthood in the world, he had learned, probably, all statesmanship, all religion, which man could teach him in those old times. But that would have been little for him. He might have become merely an officer in Pharaoh's household, and we might never have heard his name, and he might never have done any good to his own people and to all mankind after them, as he has done, if there had not been something better and nobler in him than all the learning and statesmanship of the Egyptians. For there was in Moses the spirit of God; the spirit which makes a man believe in God, and trust God. 'And therefore,' says St. Paul, 'he refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter; esteeming the reproach of CHRIST better than all the treasures in Egypt.' And how did he do that? In this wise. The spirit of God and of Christ is also the spirit of justice, the spirit of freedom; the spirit which hates oppression and wrong; which is moved with a noble and Divine indignation at seeing any human being abused and trampled on. And that spirit broke forth in Moses. 'And it came to pass in those days, when Moses was grown, that he went out unto his brethren, and looked on their burdens: and he spied an Egyptian smiting an Hebrew, one of his brethren. And he looked this way and that way, and when he saw that there was no man, he slew the Egyptian, and hid him in the sand.' If he cannot get justice for his people, he will do some sort of rough justice for them himself, when he has an opportunity. But he will see fair play among his people themselves. They are, as slaves are likely to be, fallen and base; unjust and quarrelsome among themselves. 'And when he went out the second day, behold, two men of the Hebrews strove together: and he said to him that did the wrong, Wherefore smitest thou thy fellow? And he said, Who made thee a prince and a judge over us? intendest thou to kill me as thou killedst the Egyptian? And Moses feared, and said, Surely this thing is known. Now when Pharaoh heard this thing, he sought to slay Moses. But Moses fled from the face of Pharaoh, and dwelt in the land of Midian'--the wild desert between Egypt and the Holy Land. So he bore the reproach of Christ; the reproach which is apt to fall on men in bad times, when they try, like our Lord Jesus Christ, to deliver the captive, and let the oppressed go free, and execute righteous judgment in the earth. He had lost all, by trying to do right. He had been powerful and honoured in Pharaoh's court. Now he was an outcast and wanderer in the desert. He had made his first trial, and failed. As St. Stephen said of him after, he supposed that his brethren would have understood how God would deliver them by his hand; but they understood not. Slavish, base, and stupid, they were not fit yet for Moses and his deliverance. And so forty years went on, and Moses was an old man of eighty years of age. Yet God had not had mercy on his poor countrymen in Egypt. It must have been a strange life for him, the adopted son of Pharaoh's daughter; brought up in the court of the most powerful and highly civilized country of the old world; learned in all the learning of the Egyptians; and now married into a tribe of wild Arabs, keeping flocks in the lonely desert, year after year: but, no doubt, thinking, thinking, year after year, as he fed his flocks alone. Thinking over all the learning which he had gained in Egypt, and wondering whether it would ever be of any use to him. Thinking over the misery of his people in Egypt, and wondering whether he should ever be able to help them. Thinking, too, and more than all, of God--of God's promise to Abraham and his children. Would that ever come true? Would GOD help these wretched Jews, even if HE could not? Was God faithful and true, just and merciful? That Moses thought of God, that he never lost faith in God for that forty years, there can be no doubt. If he had not thought of God, God would not have revealed himself to him. If he had lost faith in God, he would not have known that it was God who spoke to him. If he had lost faith in God, he would not have obeyed God at the risk of his life, and have gone on an errand as desperate, dangerous, hopeless--and, humanly speaking, as wild as ever man went upon. But Moses never lost faith or patience. He believed, and he did not make haste. He waited for God; and he did not wait in vain. No man will wait in vain. When the time was ready; when the Jews were ready; when Pharaoh was ready; when Moses himself, trained by forty years' patient thought, was ready; then God came in his own good time. And Moses led the flock to the back of the desert, and came to the mountain of God, even to Horeb. And there he saw a bush--probably one of the low copses of acacia--burning with fire; and behold the bush was not consumed. Then out of the bush God spoke to Moses with an audible voice as of a man; so the Bible says plainly, and I see no reason to doubt that it is literally true. 'Moreover he said, I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. And Moses hid his face; for he was afraid to look upon God. And the Lord said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows; and I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land and a large, unto a land flowing with milk and honey; unto the place of the Canaanites, and the Hittites, and the Amorites, and the Perizzites, and the Hivites, and the Jebusites.' Then followed a strange conversation. Moses was terrified at the thought of what he had to do, and reasonably: moreover, the Israelites in Egypt had forgotten God. 'And Moses said unto God, Behold, when I come unto the children of Israel, and shall say unto them, The God of your fathers hath sent me unto you; and they shall say to me, What is his name? what shall I say unto them? And God said unto Moses, I Am that I Am: and he said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I Am hath sent me unto you.' I Am; that was the new name by which God revealed himself to Moses. That message of God to Moses was the greatest Gospel, and good news which was spoken to men, before the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Ay, we are feeling now, in our daily life, in our laws and our liberty, our religion and our morals, our peace and prosperity, in the happiness of our homes, and I trust that of our consciences, the blessed effects of that message, which God revealed to Moses in the wilderness thousands of years ago. And Moses took his wife, and his sons, and set them upon an ass, and returned into the land of Egypt, to say to Pharaoh, 'Thus saith the Lord, Israel is my son, even my firstborn, Let my son go that he may serve me, and if thou let not my firstborn go, then I will slay thy firstborn.' A strange man, on a strange errand. A poor man, eighty years old, carrying all that he had in the world upon an ass's back, going down to the great Pharaoh, the greatest king of the old world, the great conqueror, the Child of the Sun (as his name means), one of the greatest Pharaohs who ever sat on the throne of Egypt; in the midst of all his princes and priests, and armies with which he had conquered the nations far and wide; and his great cities, temples, and palaces, on which men may see at this day (so we are told) the face of that very Pharaoh painted again and again, as fresh, in that rainless air, as on the day when the paint was laid on; with the features of a man terrible, proud, and cruel, puffed up by power till he thought himself, and till his people thought him a god on earth. And to that man was Moses going, to bid him set the children of Israel free; while he himself was one of that very slave-race of the Israelites, which was an abomination to the Egyptians, who held them all as lepers and unclean, and would not eat with them; and an outcast too, who had fled out of Egypt for his life, and who might be killed on the spot, as Pharaoh's only answer to his bold request. Certainly, if Moses had not had faith in God, his errand would have seemed that of a madman. But Moses HAD faith in God; and of faith it is said, that it can remove mountains, for all things are possible to them who believe. So by faith Moses went back into Egypt; how he fared there we shall hear next Sunday. And what sort of man was this great and wonderful Moses, whose name will last as long as man is man? We know very little. We know from the Bible and from the old traditions of the Jews that he was a very handsome man; a man of a noble presence, as one can well believe; a man of great bodily vigour; so that when he died at the age of one hundred and twenty, his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated. We know, from his own words, that he was slow of speech; that he had more thought in him than he could find words for--very different from a good many loud talkers, who have more words than thoughts, and who get a great character as politicians and demagogues, simply because they have the art of stringing fine words together, which Moses, the true demagogue, the leader of the people, who led them indeed out of Egypt, had not. Beyond that we know little. Of his character one thing only is said: but that is most important. 'Now the man Moses was very meek.' Meek: we know that that cannot mean that he was meek in the sense that he was a poor, cowardly, abject sort of man, who dared not speak his mind, dared not face the truth, and say the truth. We have seen that that was just what he was not; brave, determined, out-spoken, he seems to have been from his youth. Indeed, if his had been that base sort of meekness, he never would have dared to come before the great king Pharaoh. If he had been that sort of man he never would have dared to lead the Jews through the Red Sea by night, or out of Egypt at all. If he had been that sort of man, indeed, the Jews would never have listened to him. No; he had--the Bible tells us that he had--to say and do stern things again and again; to act like the general of an army, or the commander of a ship of war, who must be obeyed, even though men's lives be the forfeit of disobedience. But the man Moses was very meek. He had learned to keep his temper. Indeed, the story seems to say that he never lost his temper really but once; and for that God punished him. Never man was so tried, save One, even our Lord Jesus Christ, as was Moses. And yet by patience he conquered. Eighty years had he spent in learning to keep his temper; and when he had learned to keep his temper, then, and not till then, was he worthy to bring his people out of Egypt. That was a long schooling, but it was a schooling worth having. And if we, my friends, spend our whole lives, be they eighty years long, in learning to keep our tempers, then will our lives have been well spent. For meekness and calmness of temper need not interfere with a man's courage or justice, or honest indignation against wrong, or power of helping his fellow-men. Moses' meekness did not make him a coward or a sluggard. It helped him to do his work rightly instead of wrongly; it helped him to conquer the pride of Pharaoh, and the faithlessness, cowardice, and rebellion of his brethren, those miserable slavish Jews. And so meekness, an even temper, and a gracious tongue, will help us to keep our place among our fellow-men with true dignity and independence, and to govern our households, and train our children in such a way that while they obey us they will love and respect us at the same time. SERMON X. THE PLAGUES OF EGYPT (Palm Sunday.) EXODUS ix. 13, 14. Thus saith the Lord God of the Hebrews, Let my people go, that they may serve me. For I will at this time send all my plagues upon thine heart, and upon thy servants, and upon thy people; that thou mayest know that there is none like me in all the earth. You will understand, I think, the meaning of the ten plagues of Egypt better, if I explain to you in a few words what kind of a country Egypt is, what kind of people the Egyptians were. Some of you, doubtless, know as well as I, but some here may not: it is for them I speak. Egypt is one of the strangest countries in the world; and yet one which can be most simply described. One long straight strip of rich flat land, many hundred miles long, but only a very few miles broad. On either side of it, barren rocks and deserts of sand, and running through it from end to end, the great river Nile--'The River' of which the Bible speaks. This river the Egyptians looked on as divine: they worshipped it as a god; for on it depended the whole wealth of Egypt. Every year it overflows the whole country, leaving behind it a rich coat of mud, which makes Egypt the most inexhaustibly fertile land in the world; and made the Egyptians, from very ancient times, the best farmers of the world, the fathers of agriculture. Meanwhile, when not in flood, the river water is of the purest in the world; the most delightful to drink; and was supposed in old times to be a cure for all manner of diseases. To worship this sacred river, the pride of their land, to drink it, to bathe in it, to catch the fish which abound in it, and which formed then, and forms still, the staple food of the Egyptians, was their delight. And now I have told you enough to show you why the plagues which God sent on Egypt began first by striking the river. The river, we read, was turned into blood. What that means--whether it was actual animal blood--what means God employed to work the miracle--are just the questions about which we need not trouble our minds. We never shall know: and we need not know. The plain fact is, that the sacred river, pure and life-giving, became a detestable mass of rottenness--and with it all their streams and pools, and drinking water in vessels of wood and stone--for all, remember, came from the Nile, carried by canals and dykes over the whole land. 'And the fish that were in the river died, and the river stunk, and there was blood through all the land of Egypt.' The slightest thought will show us what horror, confusion, and actual want and misery, the loss of the river water, even for a few days or even hours, would cause. But there is more still in this miracle. These plagues are a battle between Jehovah, the one true and only God Almighty, and the false gods of Egypt, to prove which of them is master. Pharaoh answers: 'Who is Jehovah (the Lord) that I should let Israel go?' I know not the Jehovah. I have my own god, whom I worship. He is my father, and I his child, and he will protect me. If I obey any one it will be him. Be it so, says Moses in the name of God. Thou shalt know that the idols of Egypt are nothing, that they cannot deliver thee nor thy people. Thus saith Jehovah, Thou shalt know which is master, I or they. 'Thou shalt know that I am the Lord.' So the river was turned into blood. The sacred river was no god, as they thought. Jehovah was the Lord and Master of the river on which the very life of Egypt depended. He could turn it into blood. All Egypt was at his mercy. But Pharaoh would not believe that. 'The magicians did likewise with their enchantments'--made, we may suppose, water seem to turn to blood by some juggling trick at which the priests in Egypt were but too well practised; and Pharaoh seemed to have made up his mind that Moses' miracle was only a juggling trick too. For men will make up their minds to anything, however absurd, when they choose to do so: when their pride, and rage, and obstinacy, and covetousness, draw them one way, no reason will draw them the other way. They will find reasons, and make reasons to prove, if need be, that there is no sun in the sky. Then followed a series of plagues, of which we have all often heard. Learned men have disputed how far these plagues were miracles. Some of them are said not to be uncommon in Egypt, others to be almost unknown. But whether they--whether the frogs, for instance, were not produced by natural causes, just as other frogs are; and the lice and the flies likewise; that I know not, my friends, neither need I know. If they were not, they were miraculous; and if they were, they were miraculous still. If they came as other vermin come, they would have still been miraculous: God would still have sent them; and it would be a miracle that God should make them come at that particular time in that particular country, to work a truly miraculous effect upon the souls of Pharaoh and the Egyptians on the one hand, and of Moses and the Israelites on the other. But if they came by some strange means as no vermin ever came before or since, all I can say is--Why not? And the Lord said unto Moses, 'Say unto Aaron, Stretch out thy rod and smite the dust of the land, that it may become lice throughout all the land of Egypt.' Whether that was meant only as a sign to the Egyptians, or whether the dust did literally turn into lice, we do not know, and what is more, we need not know; if God chose that it should be so, so it would be. If you believe at all that God made the world, it is folly to pretend to set any bounds to his power. As a wise man has said, 'If you believe in any real God at all, you must believe that miracles can happen.' He makes you and me and millions of living things out of the dust of the ground continually by certain means. Why can he not make lice, or anything else out of the dust of the ground, without those means? I can give no reason, nor any one else either. We know that God has given all things a law which they cannot break. We know, too, that God will never break his own laws. But what are God's laws by which he makes things? We do not know. Miracles may be--indeed must be--only the effect of some higher and deeper laws of God. We cannot prove that he breaks his law, or disturbs his order by them. They may seem contrary to some of the very very few laws of God's earth which we do know. But they need not be contrary to the very many laws which we do not know. In fact, we know nothing about the matter, and had best not talk of things that we do not understand. As for these things being too wonderful to be true--that is an argument which only deserves a smile. There are so many wonders in the world round us already, all day long, that the man of sense will feel that nothing is too wonderful to be true. The truth is, that, as a wise man says, CUSTOM is the great enemy of Faith, and of Reason likewise; and one of the worst tricks which custom plays us is, making us fancy that miraculous things cease to be miraculous by becoming common. What do I mean? This: which every child in this church can understand. You think it very wonderful that God should cause frogs to come upon the whole land of Egypt in one day. But that God should cause frogs to come up every spring in the ditches does not seem wonderful to you at all. It happens every year; therefore, forsooth, there is nothing wonderful in it. Ah, my dear friends, it is custom which blinds our eyes to the wisdom of God, and the wonders of God, and the power of God, and the glory of God, and hinders us from believing the message with which he speaks to us from every sunbeam and every shower, every blade of grass and every standing pool. 'Is anything too hard for the Lord?' If any man here says that anything is too hard for the Lord, let him go this day to the nearest standing pool, and look at the frog-spawn therein, and consider it till he confesses his blindness and foolishness. That spawn seems to you a foul thing, the produce of mean, ugly, contemptible creatures. Be it so. Yet it is to the eyes of the wise man a yearly MIRACLE; a thing past understanding, past explaining; one which will make him feel the truth of that great 139th Psalm: 'Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it. Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there also.' That every one of those little black spots should have in it LIFE-- What is life? How did it get into that black spot? or, to speak more carefully, is the life IN the black spot at all? Is not the life in the Spirit of God, who is working on that spot, as I believe? How has that black spot the power of GROWING, and of growing on a certain and fixed plan, merely by the quickening power of the sun's heat, and then of feeding itself, and of changing its shape, as you all know, again and again, till--and if that is not wonderful, what is?--it turns into a frog, exactly like its parent, utterly unlike the black dot at which it began? Is that no miracle? Is it no miracle that not one of those black spots ever turns into anything save a frog? Why should not some of them turn into toads or efts? Why not even into fishes or serpents? Why not? The eggs of all those animals, in their first and earliest stages are exactly alike; the microscope shows no difference. Ay, even the mere animal and the human being, strange and awful as it may be, SEEM, under the microscope, to have the same beginning. And yet one becomes a mere animal, and the other a member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven. What causes this but the power of God, making of the same clay one vessel to honour and another to dishonour? And yet people will not believe in miracles! Why does each kind turn into its kind? Answer that. Because it is a law of nature? Not so! There are no laws OF nature. God is a law TO nature. It is his WILL that things so should be; and when it is his will they will not be so, but otherwise. Not LAWS of nature, but the SPIRIT of God, as the Psalms truly say, gives life and breath to all things. Of him and by him is all. As the greatest chemist of our time says, 'Causes are the acts of God-- creation is the will of God.' And he that is wise and strong enough to create frogs in one way in every ditch at this moment, is he not wise and strong enough to create frogs by some other way, if he should choose, whether in Egypt of old, or now, here, this very day? Whatsoever means, or no means at all, God used to produce those vermin, the miracle remains the same. He sent them to do a work, and they did it. He sent them to teach Egyptian and Israelite alike that he was the Maker, and Lord, and Ruler of the world, and all that therein is; that he would have his way, and that he COULD have his way. Intensely painful and disgusting these plagues must have been to the Egyptians, for this reason, that they were the most cleanly of all people. They had a dislike of dirt, which had become quite a superstition to them. Their priests (magicians as the Bible calls them) never wore any garments but linen, for fear of their harbouring vermin of any kind. And this extreme cleanliness of theirs the next plague struck at; they were covered with boils and diseases of skin, and the magicians could not stand before Pharaoh by reason of the boils. They became unclean and unfit for their office; they could perform no religious ceremonies, and had to flee away in disgrace. After plagues of thunder, hail, and rain, which seldom or never happen in that rainless land of Egypt; after a plague of locusts, which are very rare there, and have to come many hundred miles if they come at all; of darkness, seemingly impossible in a land where the sun always shines: then came the last and most terrible plague of all. After solemn warnings of what was coming, the angel of the Lord passed through the land of Egypt, and smote all the first-born in Egypt, from the first-born of Pharaoh upon his throne to the first-born of the captive in the dungeon; and there arose a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house in which there was not one dead. A terrible and heart-rending calamity in any case, enough to break the heart of all Egypt; and it did break the heart of Egypt, and the proud heart of Pharaoh himself, and they let the people go. But this was a RELIGIOUS affliction too. Most of these first-born children--probably all the first-born of the priests and nobles, and of Pharaoh himself--were consecrated to some god. They bore the name of the god to whom they belonged; that god was to prosper and protect them, and behold, he could not. The Lord Jehovah, the God of the Hebrews, was stronger than all the gods of Egypt; none of them could deliver their servants out of his hand. He was the only Lord of life and death; he had given them life, and he could take it away, in spite of all and every one of the gods of the Egyptians. So the Lord God showed himself to be the Master and Lord of all things. The Lord of the sacred river Nile; the Lord of the meanest vermin which crept on the earth; the Lord of the weather--able to bring thunder and hail into a land where thunder and hail was never seen before; the Lord of the locust swarms--able to bring them over the desert and over the sea to devour up every green thing in the land, and then to send a wind off the Mediterranean Sea, and drive the locusts away to the eastward; the Lord of light--who could darken, even in that cloudless land, the very sun, whom Pharaoh worshipped as his god and his ancestor; and lastly, the Lord of human life and death--able to kill whom he chose, when he chose, and as he chose. The Lord of the earth and all that therein is; before whom all men, even proud Pharaoh, must bow and confess, 'Is anything too hard for the Lord?' And now, I always tell you that each fresh portion of the Old Testament reveals to men something fresh concerning the character of God. You may say, These plagues of Egypt reveal God's mighty power, but what do they reveal of his character? They reveal this: that there is in God that which, for want of a better word, we must call anger; a quite awful sternness and severity; not only a power to punish, but a determination to punish, if men will not take his warnings--if men will not obey his will. There is no use trying to hide from ourselves that awful truth--God is not weakly indulgent. Our God can be, if he will, a consuming fire. Upon the sinner he will surely rain fire and brimstone, storm and tempest of some kind or other. This shall be their portion too surely. Vengeance is his, and vengeance he will take. But upon whom? On the proud and the tyrannical, on the cruel, the false, the unjust. So say the Psalms again and again, and so says the history of these plagues of Egypt. Therefore his anger is a loving anger, a just auger, a merciful anger, a useful anger, an anger exercised for the good of mankind. See in this case why did God destroy the crops of Egypt--even the first-born of Egypt? Merely for the pleasure of destroying? God forbid. It was to deliver the poor Israelites from their cruel taskmasters; to force these Egyptians by terrible lessons, since they were deaf to the voice of justice and humanity-- to force them, I say--to have mercy on their fellow-creatures, and let the oppressed go free. Therefore God was, even in Egypt, a God of love, who desired the good of man, who would do justice for those who were unjustly treated, even though it cost his love a pang; for none can believe that God is pleased at having to punish, pleased at having to destroy the works of his own hands, or the creatures which he has made. No; the Lord was a God of love even when he sent his sore plagues on Egypt, and therefore we may believe what the Bible tells us, that that same Lord showed, as on this day, a still greater proof of his love, when, as on this day, he entered into Jerusalem, meek and lowly, sitting on an ass, and going, as he well knew, to certain death. Before the week was over he would be betrayed, mocked, scourged, crucified by the very people whom he came to save; and yet he did it, he endured it. Instead of pouring out on them, as on the Egyptians of old, the cup of wrath and misery, he put out his hand, took the cup of wrath and misery to himself, and drank it to its very dregs. Was not that, too, a miracle? Ay, a greater miracle than all the plagues of Egypt. They were physical miracles; this a moral miracle. They were miracles of nature; this of grace. They were miracles of the Lord's power; these of the Lord's love. Think of that miracle of miracles which was worked in this Passion Week--the miracle of the Lord Jehovah stooping to die for sinful man, and say after that there is anything too hard for the Lord. SERMON XI. THE GOD OF THE OLD TESTAMENT IS THE GOD OF THE NEW (Palm Sunday.) Exodus ix. 14. I will at this time send all my plagues upon thine heart, and upon thy servants, and upon thy people, that thou mayest know that there is none like me in all the earth. We are now beginning Passion Week, the week of the whole year which ought to teach us most theology; that is, most concerning God, his character and his spirit. For in this Passion Week God did that which utterly and perfectly showed forth his glory, as it never has been shown forth before or since. In this week Jesus Christ, the incarnate God, died on the cross for man, and showed that his name, his character, his glory was love--love without bound or end. It was to teach us this that the special services, lessons, collects, epistles, and gospels of this week were chosen. The second lesson, the collects, the epistles, the gospel for to- day, all set before us the patience of Christ, the humility of Christ, the love of Christ, the self-sacrifice of Christ, the Lamb without spot, enduring all things that he might save sinful man. But if so, what does this first lesson--the chapter of Exodus from which my text is taken--what does it teach us concerning God? Does it teach us that his name is love? At first sight you would think that it did not. At first sight you would fancy that it spoke of God in quite a different tone from the second lesson. In the second lesson, the words of Jesus the Son of God are all gentleness, patience, tenderness. A quiet sadness hangs over them all. They are the words of one who is come (as he said himself), not to destroy men's lives, but to save them; not to punish sins, but to wash them away by his own most precious blood. But in the first lesson how differently he seems to speak. His words there are the words of a stern and awful judge, who can, and who will destroy whatsoever interferes with his will and his purpose. 'I will at this time send all my plagues upon thine heart, and on thy servants, and all thy people, that thou mayest know that there is none like me in all the earth.' The cattle and sheep shall be destroyed with murrain; man and beast shall be tormented with boils and blains; the crops shall be smitten with hail; the locusts shall eat up every green thing in the land; and at last all the first-born of Egypt shall die in one night, and the land be filled with mourning, horror, and desolation, before the anger of this terrible God, who will destroy and destroy till he makes himself obeyed. Can this be he who rode into Jerusalem, as on this day, meek and lowly, upon an ass's colt; who on the night that he was betrayed washed his disciples' feet, even the feet of Judas who betrayed him? Who prayed for his murderers as he hung upon the cross, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do?' Can these two be the same? Is the Lord Jehovah of the Old Testament the Lord Jesus of the New? They are the same, my friends. He who laid waste the land of Egypt is he who came to seek and to save that which was lost. He who slew the children in Egypt is he who took little children up in his arms and blessed them. He who spoke the awful words of the text is he who was brought as a lamb to the slaughter; and as a sheep before the shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. This is very wonderful. But why should it NOT be wonderful? What can God be but wonderful? His character, just because it is perfect, must contain in itself all other characters, all forms of spiritual life which are without sin. And yet again it is not so very wonderful. Have we not seen--I have often--in the same mortal man these two different characters at once? Have we not seen soldiers and sailors, brave men, stern men, men who have fought in many a bloody battle, to whom it is a light thing to kill their fellow-men, or to be killed themselves in the cause of duty; and yet most full of tenderness, as gentle as lambs to little children and to weak women; nursing the sick lovingly and carefully with the same hand which would not shrink from firing the fatal cannon to blast a whole company into eternity, or sink a ship with all its crew? I have seen such men, brave as the lion and gentle as the lamb, and I saw in them the likeness of Christ--the Lion of Judah; and yet the Lamb of God. Christ is the Lamb of God; and in him there are the innocence of the lamb, the gentleness of the lamb, the patience of the lamb: but there is more. What words are these which St. John speaks in the spirit?-- 'And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together, and every mountain and island were moved out of their places; and the kings of the earth, and the great, and the rich, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman and every freeman hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; and said to the mountains and to the rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb; for the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?' Yes, look at that awful book of Revelation with which the Bible ends, and see if the Bible does not end as it began, by revealing a God who, however loving and merciful, long-suffering, and of great goodness, still wages war eternally against all sin and unrighteousness of man, and who will by no means clear the guilty; a God of whom the apostle St. Paul, who knew most of his mercy and forgiveness to sinners, could nevertheless say, just as Moses had said ages before him, 'Our God is a consuming fire.' Now I think it most necessary to recollect this in Passion Week; ay, and to do more--to remember it all our lives long. For it is too much the fashion now, and has often been so before, to think only of one side of our Lord's character, of the side which seems more pleasant and less awful. People please themselves in hymns which talk of the meek and lowly Jesus, and in pictures which represent him with a sad, weary, delicate, almost feminine face. Now I do not say that this is wrong. He is the same yesterday, to- day, and for ever; as tender, as compassionate now as when he was on earth; and it is good that little children and innocent young people should think of him as an altogether gentle, gracious, loveable being; for with the meek he will be meek; but again, with the froward, the violent, and self-willed, he will be froward. He will show the violent that he is the stronger of the two, and the self- willed that he will have his will and not theirs done. So it is good that the widow and the orphan, the weary and the distressed, should think of Jesus as utterly tender and true, compassionate and merciful, and rest their broken hearts upon him, the everlasting rock. But while it is written, that whosoever shall fall on that rock he shall be broken, it is written too, that on whomsoever that rock shall fall, it will grind him to powder. It is good that those who wish to be gracious themselves, loving themselves, should remember that Christ is gracious, Christ is loving. But it is good also, that those who do NOT wish to be gracious and loving themselves, but to be proud and self-willed, unjust and cruel, should remember that the gracious and loving Christ is also the most terrible and awful of all beings; sharper than a two-edged sword, piercing asunder the very joints and marrow, discerning the most secret thoughts and intents of the heart; a righteous judge, strong and patient, who is provoked every day: but if a man WILL not turn he will whet his sword. He hath bent his bow and made it ready, and laid his arrows in order against the persecutors. What Christ's countenance, my friends, was like when on earth, we do NOT know; but what his countenance is like now, we all may know; for what says St. John, and how did Christ appear to him, who had been on earth his private and beloved friend? 'His head and his hair were white as snow, and his eyes were like a flame of fire, and his voice like the sound of many waters; and out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword, and his countenance was as the sun when he shineth in his strength. And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead.' That is the likeness of Christ, my friends; and we must remember that it is his likeness, and fall at his feet, and humble ourselves before his unspeakable majesty, if we wish that he should do to us at the last day as he did to St. John--lay his hand upon us, saying, 'Fear not, I am the first and the last, and behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen. I have the keys of death and hell.' Yes, it is good that we should all remember this. For if we do not, we may fall, as thousands fall, into a very unwholesome and immoral notion about religion. We may get to fancy, as thousands do, rich and poor, that because Christ the Lord is meek and gentle, patient and long-suffering, that he is therefore easy, indulgent, careless about our doing wrong; and that we can, in plain English, trifle with Christ, and take liberties with his everlasting laws of right and wrong; and so fancy, that provided we talk of the meek and lowly Jesus, and of his blood washing away all our sins, that we are free to behave very much as if Jesus had never come into the world to teach men their duty, and free to commit almost any sin which does not disgrace us among our neighbours, or render us punishable by the law. My friends, it is NOT SO. And those who fancy that it is so, will find out their mistake bitterly enough. Infinite love and forgiveness to those who repent and amend and do right; but infinite rigour and punishment to those who will not amend and do right. This is the everlasting law of God's universe; and every soul of man will find it out at last, and find that the Lord Jesus Christ is not a Being to be trifled with, and that the precious blood which he shed on the cross is of no avail to those who are not minded to be righteous even as he is righteous. 'But Christ is so loving, so tender-hearted that he surely will not punish us for our sins.' This is the confused notion that too many people have about him. And the answer to it is, that just BECAUSE Christ is so loving, so tender-hearted, therefore he MUST punish us for our sins, unless we utterly give up our sins, and do right instead of wrong. That false notion springs out of men's selfishness. They think of sin as something which only hurts themselves; when they do wrong they think merely, 'What punishment will God inflict on ME for doing wrong?' They are wrapt up in themselves. They forget that their sins are not merely a matter between them and Christ, but between them and their neighbours; that every wrong action they commit, every wrong word they speak, every wrong habit in which they indulge themselves, sooner or later, more or less hurts their neighbours-- ay, hurts all mankind. And does Christ care only for THEM? Does he not care for their neighbours? Has he not all mankind to provide for, and govern and guide? And can he allow bad men to go on making this world worse, without punishing them, any more than a gardener can allow weeds to hurt his flowers, and not root them up? What would you say of a man who was so merciful to the weeds that he let them choke the flowers? What would you say of a shepherd who was so merciful to the wolves that he let them eat his sheep? What would you say of a magistrate who was so merciful to thieves that he let them rob the honest men? And do you fancy that Christ is a less careful and just governor of the world than the magistrate who punishes the thief that honest men may live in safety? Not so. Not only will Christ punish the wolves who devour his sheep, but he will punish his sheep themselves if they hurt each other, torment each other, lead each other astray, or in any way interfere with the just and equal rule of his kingdom; and this, not out of spite or cruelty, but simply because he is perfect love. Go, therefore, and think of Christ this Passion Week as he was, and is, and ever will be. Think of the whole Christ, and not of some part of his character which may specially please your fancy. Think of him as the patient and forgiving Christ, who prayed for his murderers, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.' But remember that, in this very Passion Week, there came out of those most gentle lips--the lips which blessed little children, and cried to all who were weary and heavy laden, to come to him and he would give them rest--that out of those most gentle lips, I say, in this very Passion Week, there went forth the most awful threats which ever were uttered, 'Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites. Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?' Think of him as the Lamb who offered himself freely on the cross for sinners. But think of him, too, as the Lamb who shall one day come in glory to judge all men according to their works. Think of him as full of boundless tenderness and humanity, boundless long-suffering and mercy. But remember that beneath that boundless sweetness and tenderness there burns a consuming fire; a fire of divine scorn and indignation against all who sin, like Pharaoh, out of cruelty and pride; against all which is foul and brutal, mean and base, false and hypocritical, cruel and unjust; a fire which burns, and will burn against all the wickedness which is done on earth, and all the misery and sorrow which is suffered on earth, till the Lord has burned it up for ever, and there is nothing but love and justice, order and usefulness, peace and happiness, left in the universe of God. Oh, think of these things, and cast away your sins betimes, at the foot of his everlasting cross, lest you be consumed with your sins in his everlasting fire! SERMON XII. THE BIRTHNIGHT OF FREEDOM (Easter Day.) Exodus xii. 42. This is a night to be much observed unto the Lord, for bringing the children of Israel out of Egypt. To be much observed unto the Lord by the children of Israel. And by us, too, my friends; and by all nations who call themselves FREE. There are many and good ways of looking at Easter Day. Let us look at it in this way for once. It is the day on which God himself set men FREE. Consider the story. These Israelites, the children of Abraham, the brave, wild patriarch of the desert, have been settled for hundreds of years in the rich lowlands of Egypt. There they have been eating and drinking their fill, and growing more weak, slavish, luxurious, fonder and fonder of the flesh-pots of Egypt; fattening literally for the slaughter, like beasts in a stall. They are spiritually dead--dead in trespasses and sins. They do not want to be free, to be a nation. They are content to be slaves and idolaters, if they can only fill their stomachs. This is the spiritual death of a nation. I say, they do not want to be free. When they are oppressed, they cry out--as an animal cries when you beat him. But after they are free, when they get into danger, or miss their meat, they cry out too, and are willing enough to return to slavery; as the dog which has run away for fear of the whip, will go back to his kennel for the sake of his food. 'Because there were no graves in Egypt, hast thou taken us away to die in the wilderness? Wherefore hast thou dealt thus with us to carry us out of Egypt?' And again, 'Would God we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, where we did sit by the flesh-pots, and eat meat to the full!' BRUTALIZED, in one word, were these poor children of Israel. Then God took their cause into his own hand; I say emphatically into his own hand. If that part of the story be not true, I care nothing for the rest. If God did not personally and actually interfere on behalf of those poor slaves; if the plagues of Egypt are not TRUE-- the passage of the Red Sea be not TRUE--the story tells me and you nothing; gives us no hope for ourselves, no hope for mankind. For see. One says, and truly, God is good; God is love; God is just; God hates oppression and wrong. BUT if God be love, he must surely show his love by doing loving things. If God be just, he must show his justice by doing just things. If God hates oppression, then he must free the oppressed. If God hates wrong, then he must set the wrong right. For what would you think of a man who professed to be loving and just, and to hate oppression and wrong, and yet never took the trouble to do a good action, or to put down wrong, when he had the power? You would call him a hypocrite; you would think his love and justice very much on his tongue, and not in his heart. And will you believe that God is like that man? God forbid! Comfortable scholars and luxurious ladies may content themselves with a DEAD God, who does not interfere to help the oppressed, to right the wrong, to bind up the broken-hearted; but men and women who work, who sorrow, who suffer, who partake of all the ills which flesh is heir to--they want a LIVING God, an acting God, a God who WILL interfere to right the wrong. Yes--they want a living God. And they have a living God--even the God who interfered to bring the Israelites out of Egypt with signs and wonders, and a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, and executed judgment upon Pharaoh and his proud and cruel hosts. And when they read in the Bible of that God, when they read in their Bibles the story of the Exodus, their hearts answer, THIS is right. This is the God whom we need. This is what ought to have happened. This is true: for it must be true. Let comfortable folks who know no sorrow trouble their brains as to whether sixty or six hundred thousand fighting men came out of Egypt with Moses. We care not for numbers. What we care for is, not how many came out, but who brought them out, and that he who brought them out was GOD. And the book which tells us that, we will cling to, will love, will reverence above all the books on earth, because it tells of a living God, who works and acts and interferes for men; who not only hates wrong, but rights wrong; not only hates oppression, but puts oppressors down; not only pities the oppressed, but sets the oppressed free; a God who not only wills that man should have freedom, but sent freedom down to him from heaven. Scholars have said that the old Greeks were the fathers of freedom; and there have been other peoples in the world's history who have made glorious and successful struggles to throw off their tyrants and be free. And they have said, We are the fathers of freedom; liberty was born with us. Not so, my friends! Liberty is of a far older and far nobler house; Liberty was born, if you will receive it, on the first Easter night, on the night to be much remembered among the children of Israel--ay, among all mankind--when God himself stooped from heaven to set the oppressed free. Then was freedom born. Not in the counsels of men, however wise; or in the battles of men, however brave: but in the counsels of God, and the battle of God--amid human agony and terror, and the shaking of the heaven and the earth; amid the great cry throughout Egypt when a first-born son lay dead in every house; and the tempest which swept aside the Red Sea waves; and the pillar of cloud by day, and the pillar of fire by night; and the Red Sea shore covered with the corpses of the Egyptians; and the thunderings and lightnings and earthquakes of Sinai; and the sound as of a trumpet waxing loud and long; and the voice, most human and most divine, which spake from off the lonely mountain peak to that vast horde of coward and degenerate slaves, and said, 'I am the Lord thy God who brought thee out of the land of Egypt. Thou shalt obey my laws, and keep my commandments to do them.' Oh! the man who would rob his suffering fellow-creatures of that story--he knows not how deep and bitter are the needs of man. Then was freedom born: but not of man; not of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of the will of God, from whom all good things come; and of Christ, who is the life and the light of men and of nations, and of the whole world, and of all worlds, past, present, and to come. From God came freedom. To be used as his gift, according to his laws; for he gave, and he can take away; as it is written, 'He shall take the kingdom of God from you, and give it to a people bringing forth the fruits thereof.' 'For there be many first that shall be last; and last that shall be first.' It is this which makes the Jews indeed a peculiar people: the thought that the living God had actually and really done for them what they could not do for themselves; that he had made them a nation, and not they themselves. It is this which makes the Old Testament an utterly different book, with an utterly different lesson, to the written history of any other nation in the world. And yet it is this which makes the history of the Jews the key to every other history in the world. For in it Jesus Christ our Lord, the living God who makes history, who governs all nations, reveals and unveils himself, and teaches not the Jews only, but us and all nations, that it is he who hath made us, and not we ourselves; that we got not the land in possession by our own sword, nor was it our own strength that helped us, but thou, O Lord, because thou hadst a favour unto us; that not to us, not to us is the praise of any national greatness or glory, but to God, from whom it comes as surely a free gift as the gift of liberty to the Jews of old. I say, the history of the Jews is the history of the whole Church, and of every nation in Christendom. As with the Jews, so with the nations of Europe; whenever they have trusted in themselves, their own power and wisdom, they have ended in weakness and folly. Whenever they have trusted in Christ the living God, and said, 'It is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves,' they have risen to strength and wisdom. When they have forgotten the living God, national life and patriotism have died in them, as they died in the Jews. When they have remembered that the most high God was their Redeemer, then in them, as in the Jews, have national life and patriotism revived. And as it was with the Jews in the wilderness, so it has been with them since Christ's resurrection. They fancied that they were going at once into the promised land. So did the first Christians. But the Jews had to wander forty years in the wilderness; and Christendom has had to wander too, in strange and bloodstained paths, for one thousand eight hundred years and more. For why? The Israelites were not worthy to enter at once into rest; no more have the nation of Christ's Church been worthy. The Israelites brought out of Egypt base and slavish passions, which had to be purged out of them; so have we out of heathendom. They brought out, too, heathen superstitions, and mixed them up with the worship of God, bearing about in the wilderness the tabernacle of Moloch and the image of their god Remphan, and making the calf in Horeb; and so, alas! again and again, has the Church of Christ. Nay, the whole generation, save two, who came out of Egypt, had to die in the wilderness, and leave their bones scattered far and wide. And so has mankind been dying, by war and by disease, and by many fearful scourges besides what is called now-a-days, natural decay. But all the while a new generation was springing up, trained in the wilderness to be bold and hardy; trained, too, under Moses' stern law, to the fear of God; to reverence, and discipline, and obedience, without which freedom is merely brutal license, and a nation is no nation, but a mere flock of sheep or a herd of wolves. And so, for these one thousand eight hundred years have the generations of Christendom, by the training of the Church and the light of the Gospel, been growing in wisdom and knowledge; growing in morality and humanity, in that true discipline and loyalty which are the yoke-fellows of freedom and independence, to make them fit for that higher state, that heavenly Canaan, of which we know not WHEN it will come, nor whether its place will be on this earth or elsewhere; but of which it is written, 'And I John saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. 'And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it; and the kings of the earth do bring their glory and honour into it. And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day: for there shall be no night there. And they shall bring the glory and honour of the nations into it. And there shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination or maketh a lie: but they which are written in the Lamb's book of life.' That, the perfect Easter Day, seems far enough off as yet; but it will come. As the Lord liveth, it will come; and to it may Christ in his mercy bring us all, and our children's children after us. Amen. SERMON XIII. KORAH, DATHAN, AND ABIRAM (First Sunday after Easter, 1863.) Numbers xvi. 32-35. And the earth opened her mouth, and swallowed them up, and their houses, and all the men that appertained unto Korah, and all their goods. They, and all that appertained to them, went down alive into the pit, and the earth closed upon them: and they perished from among the congregation. And all Israel that were round about them fled at the cry of them: for they said, Lest the earth swallow us up also. And there came out a fire from the Lord, and consumed the two hundred and fifty men that offered incense. I will begin by saying that there are several things in this chapter which I do not understand, and cannot explain to you. Be it so. That is no reason why we should not look at the parts of the chapter which we can understand and can explain. There are matters without end in the world round us, and in our own hearts, and in the life of every one, which we cannot explain; and therefore we need not be surprised to find things which we cannot explain in the life and history of the most remarkable nation upon earth--the nation whose business it has been to teach all other nations the knowledge of the true God, and who was specially and curiously trained for that work. But the one broad common-sense lesson of this chapter, it seems to me, is one which is on the very surface of it; one which every true Englishman at least will see, and see to be true, when he hears the chapter read; and that is, the necessity of DISCIPLINE. God has brought the Israelites out of Egypt, and set them free. One of the first lessons which they have to learn is, that freedom does not mean license and discord--does not mean every one doing that which is right in the sight of his own eyes. From that springs self-will, division, quarrels, revolt, civil war, weakness, profligacy, and ruin to the whole people. Without order, discipline, obedience to law, there can be no true and lasting freedom; and, therefore, order must be kept at all risks, the law obeyed, and rebellion punished. Now rebellion may be and ought to be punished far more severely in some cases than in others. If men rebel here, in Great Britain or Ireland, we smile at them, and let them off with a slight imprisonment, because we are not afraid of them. They can do no harm. But there are cases in which rebellion must be punished with a swift and sharp hand. On board a ship at sea, for instance, where the safety of the whole ship, the lives of the whole crew, depend on instant obedience, mutiny may be punished by death on the spot. Many a commander has ere now, and rightly too, struck down the rebel without trial or argument, and ended him and his mutiny on the spot; by the sound rule that it is expedient that one man die for the people, and that the whole nation perish not. And so it was with the Israelites in the desert. All depended on their obedience. God had given them a law--a constitution, as we should say now--perfectly fitted, no doubt, for them. If they once began to rebel and mutiny against that law, all was over with them. That great, foolish, ignorant multitude would have broken up, probably fought among themselves--certainly parted company, and either starved in the desert, or have been destroyed piecemeal by the wild warlike tribes, Midianites, Moabites, Amalekites--who were ready enough for slaughter and plunder. They would never have reached Canaan. They would never have become a great nation. So they had to be, by necessity, under martial law. The word must be, Obey or die. As for any cruelty in putting Korah, Dathan, and Abiram to death, it was worth the death of a hundred such--or a thousand--to preserve the great and glorious nation of the Jews to be the teachers of the world. Now this Korah, Dathan, and Abiram rebel. They rebel against Moses about a question of the priesthood. It really matters little to us what that question was--it was a question of Moses' law, which, of course, is now done away. Only remember this, that these men were princes--great feudal noblemen, as we should say; and that they rebelled on the strength of their rank and their rights as noblemen to make laws for themselves and for the people; and that the mob of their dependents seem to have been inclined to support them. Surely if Moses had executed martial law on them with his own hand, he would have been as perfectly justified as a captain of a ship of war or a general of an army would be now. But he did not do so. And why? Because MOSES did not bring the people out of Egypt. Moses was not their king. GOD brought them out of Egypt. God was their king. That was the lesson which they had to learn, and to teach other nations also. They have rebelled, not against Moses, but against God; and not Moses, but God must punish, and show that he is not a dead God, but a living God, one who can defend himself, and enforce his own laws, and execute judgment--and, if need be, vengeance--without needing any man to fight his battles for him. And God does so. The powers of Nature--the earthquake and the nether fire--shall punish these rebels; and so they do. 'And Moses said, Hereby ye shall know that the Lord hath sent me to do all these works; for I have not done them of mine own mind. If these men die the common death of all men, or if they be visited after the visitation of all men; then the Lord hath not sent me. But if the Lord make a new thing, and the earth open her mouth and swallow them up, with all that appertain to them and they go down quick into the pit; then ye shall understand that these men have provoked the Lord.' Men have thought differently of the story; but I call it a righteous story, and a noble story, and one which agrees with my conscience, and my reason, and my notion of what ought to be, and my experience also of what is--of the way in which God's world is governed unto this day. What then are we to think of the earth opening and swallowing them up? What are we to think of a fire coming out from the Lord, and consuming two hundred and fifty men that offered incense? This first. That discipline and order are so absolutely necessary for the well-being of a nation that they must be kept at all risks, and enforced by the most terrible punishments. It seems to me (to speak with all reverence) as if God had said to the Jews, 'I have set you free. I will make of you a great nation; I will lead you into a good land and large. But if you are to be a great nation, if you are to conquer that good land and large, you must obey: and you shall obey. The earthquake and the fire shall teach you to obey, and make you an example to the rest of the Israelites, and to all nations after you.' But how hard, some may think, that the wives and the children should suffer for their parents' sins. My friends, we do not know that a single woman or child died then for whom it was not better that he or she should die. That is one of the deep things which we must leave to the perfect justice and mercy of God. And next--what is it after all, but what we see going on round us all the day long? God does visit the sins of the fathers on the children. There is no denying it. Wives do suffer for their husbands' sins; children and children's children for whole generations after generations suffer for their parents' sins, and become unhealthy, or superstitious, or profligate, or poor, or slavish, because their parents sinned, and dragged down their children with them in their fall. It is a law of the world; and therefore it is a law of God. And it is reasonable to be believed that God might choose to teach the Israelites, once and for all, that it WAS a law of his world. For by swallowing up those women and children with the men, God said to the Israelites, it seems to me in a way which could not be mistaken, 'This is the consequence of lawlessness and disorder--that you not only injure yourselves, but your children after you, and involve your families in the same ruin as yourselves.' But there was another lesson, and a deep lesson, in the earthquake and in the fire. And what was this? that the earthquake and the fire came out from the Lord. Earthquakes have swallowed up not hundreds merely, but many thousands, in many countries, and at many times. Fire has come forth, and still comes forth from the ground, from the clouds, from the consequences of man's own carelessness, and destroys beast and man, and the works of man's hands. Then men ask in terror and doubt, 'Who sends the earthquake and the fire? Do they come from the devil--the destroyer? Do they come by chance, from some brute and blind powers of nature?' This chapter answers, 'No. They come from the Lord, from whom all good things do come; from the Lord who delivered the Israelites out of Egypt; who so loved the world that he spared not his only begotten Son, but freely gave him for us.' Now I say that is a gospel, and good news, which we want now as much as ever men did; which the children of Israel wanted then, though not one whit more than we. Many hundreds of years had these Israelites been in Egypt. Storm, lightning, earthquake, the fires of the burning mountains, were things unknown to them. They were going into Canaan--a good land and fruitful, but a land of storms and thunders; a land, too, of earthquakes and subterranean fires. The deepest earthquake-crack in the world is the valley of the Jordan, ending in the Dead Sea--a long valley, through which at different points the nether fires of the earth even now burst up at times. In Abraham's time they had destroyed the five cities of the plain. The prophets mention them, especially Isaiah and Micah, as breaking out again in their own times; and in our own lifetime earthquake and fire have done fearful destruction in the north part of the Holy Land. Now what was to prevent the Israelites worshipping the earthquake and the fire as gods? Nothing. Conceive the terror and horror of the Jews coming out of that quiet land of Egypt, the first time they felt the ground rocking and rolling; the first time they heard the roar of the earthquake beneath their feet; the first time they saw, in the magnificent words of Micah, the mountains molten and the valleys cleft as wax before the fire, like water poured down a steep place; and discovered that beneath their very feet was Tophet, the pit of fire and brimstone, ready to burst up and overwhelm them they knew not when. What could they do, but what the Canaanites did who dwelt already in that land? What but to say, 'The fire is king. The fire is the great and dreadful God, and to him we must pray, lest he devour us up.' For so did the Canaanites. They called the fire Moloch, which means simply the king; and they worshipped this fire-king, and made idols of him, and offered human sacrifices to him. They had idols of metal, before which an everlasting fire burned; and on the arms of the idol the priests laid the children who were to be sacrificed, that they might roll down into the fire and be burnt alive. That is actual fact. In one case, which we know of well, hundreds of years after Moses' time, the Carthaginians offered two hundred boys of their best families to Moloch in one day. This is that making the children pass through the fire to Moloch--burning them in the fire to Moloch--of which we read several times in the Old Testament; as ugly and accursed a superstition as men ever invented. What deliverance was there for them from these abominable superstitions, except to know that the fire-kingdom was God's kingdom, and not Moloch's at all; to know with Micah and with David that the hills were molten like wax BEFORE THE PRESENCE OF THE LORD; that it was the blast of his breath which discovered the foundations of the world; that it was HE who made the sea flee and drove back the Jordan stream; that it was before HIM that the mountains skipped like rams and the little hills like young sheep; that the battles of shaking were God's battles, with which he could fight for his people; that it was he who ordained Tophet, and whose spirit kindled it. That it was he--and that too in mercy as well as anger--who visited the land in Isaiah's time with thunder and earthquake, and great noise, and storm and tempest, and the flame of devouring fire. That the earth opened and swallowed up those whom God chose, and no others. That if fire came forth, it came forth from the Lord, and burned where and what God chose, and nothing else. Yes. If you will only understand, once and for all, that the history of the Jews is the history of the Lord's turning a people from the cowardly, slavish worship of sun and stars, of earthquakes and burning mountains, and all the brute powers of nature which the heathen worshipped, and teaching them to trust and obey him, the living God, the Lord and Master of all, then the Old Testament will be clear to you throughout; but if not, then not. You cannot read your Bibles without seeing how that great lesson was stamped into the very hearts of the Hebrew prophets; how they are continually speaking of the fire and the earthquake, and yet continually declaring that they too obey God and do God's will, and that the man who fears God need not fear them--that God was their hope and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore would they not fear, though the earth was moved, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea. And we, too, need the same lesson in these scientific days. We too need to fix it in our hearts, that the powers of nature are the powers of God; that he orders them by his providence to do what he will, and when and where he will; that, as the Psalmist says, the winds are his messengers and the flames of fire his ministers. And this we shall learn from the Bible, and from no other book whatsoever. God taught the Jews this, by a strange and miraculous education, that they might teach it in their turn to all mankind. And they have taught it. For the Bible bids us--as no other book does--not to be afraid of the world on which we live; not to be afraid of earthquake or tempest, or any of the powers of nature which seem to us terrible and cruel, and destroying; for they are the powers of the good and just and loving God. They obey our Father in heaven, without whom not a sparrow falls to the ground, and our Lord Jesus Christ, who came not to destroy men's lives, but to save them. And therefore we need not fear them, or look on them with any blind superstition, as things too awful for us to search into. We may search into their causes; find out, if we can, the laws which they obey, because those laws are given them by God our Father; try, by using those laws, to escape them, as we are learning now to escape tempests; or to prevent them, as we are learning now to prevent pestilences: and where we cannot do that, face them manfully, saying, 'It is my Father's will. These terrible events must be doing God's work. They may be punishing the guilty; they may be taking the righteous away from the evil to come; they may be teaching wise men lessons which will enable them years hence to save lives without number; they may be preparing the face of the earth for the use of generations yet unborn. Whatever they are doing they are and must be doing good; for they are doing the will of the living Father, who willeth that none should perish, and hateth nothing that he hath made.' This, my friends, is the lesson which the Bible teaches; and because it teaches that lesson it is the Book of books, and the inspired word or message, not of men concerning God, but of God himself, concerning himself, his kingdom over this world and over all worlds, and his good will to men. SERMON XIV. BALAAM NUMBERS xxiii. 19. God is not a man, that he should lie; neither the son of man, that he should repent: hath he said, and shall he not do it? or hath he spoken, and shall he not make it good? If I was asked for any proof that the story of Balaam, as I find it in the Bible, is a true story, I should lay my hand on this one only--and that is, the deep knowledge of human nature which is shown in it. The character of Balaam is so perfectly natural, and yet of a kind so very difficult to unravel and explain, that if the story was invented by man, as poems or novels are, it must have been invented very late indeed in the history of the Jews; at a time when they had grown to be a far more civilised people, far more experienced in the cunning tricks of the human heart than they were, as far as we can see from the Bible, before the Babylonish captivity. But it was NOT invented late; for no Jew in these later times would have thought of making Balaam a heathen, to be a prophet of God, or a believer in the true God at all. The later Jews took up the notion that God spoke to and cared for the Jews only, and that all other nations were accursed. There is no reason, therefore, against simply believing the story as it stands. It seems a very ancient story indeed, suiting exactly in its smallest details the place where Moses, or whoever wrote the Book of Numbers, has put it. We, in these days, are accustomed to draw a sharp line between the good and the bad, the converted and the unconverted, the children of God and the children of this world, those who have God's Spirit and those who have not, which we find nowhere in Scripture; and therefore when we read of such a man as Balaam we cannot understand him. He is a bad man, but yet he is a prophet. How can that be? He knows the true God. More, he has the Spirit of God in him, and thereby utters deep and wonderful prophecies; and yet he is a bad man and a rogue. How can that be? The puzzle, my friends, is one of our own making. If, instead of taking up doctrines out of books, we will use our own eyes and ears and common sense, and look honestly at this world as it is, and men and women as they are, we shall find nothing unnatural or strange in Balaam; we shall find him very like a good many people whom we know; very like--nay, probably, too like--ourselves in some particulars. Now bear in mind, first, that Balaam is no impostor or magician. He is a wise man, and a prophet of God. God really speaks to him, and really inspires him. And bear in mind, too, that Balaam's inspiration did not merely open his mouth to say wonderful words which he did not understand, but opened his heart to say righteous and wise things which he did understand. 'Remember,' says the prophet Micah, 'O my people, what Balak, king of Moab, consulted, and what Balaam, the son of Beor, answered him from Shittim unto Gilgal, that ye may know the righteousness of the Lord. Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before the high God? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgressions, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good, and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God.' Why, what deeper or wiser words are there in the whole Old Testament? This man Balaam had seen down into the deepest depths of all morality, unto the deepest depths of all religion. The man who knew that, knew more than ninety-nine in a hundred do even in a Christian country now, and more than nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine in a million knew in those days. Let no one, after that speech, doubt that Balaam was indeed a prophet of the Lord; and yet he was a bad man, and came deservedly to a bad end. So much easier, my friends, is it to know what is right than to do what is right. What then was wrong in Balaam? This, that he was double-minded. He wished to serve God. True. But he wished to serve himself by serving God, as too many do in all times. That was what was wrong with him--self-seeking; and the Bible story brings out that self-seeking with a delicacy, a keenness, and a perfect knowledge of human nature, which ought to teach us some of the secrets of our own hearts. Watch how Balaam, as a matter of course, inquires of the Lord whether he may go, and refuses, seemingly at first honestly. Then how the temptation grows on him; how, when he feels tempted, he fights against it in fine-sounding professions, just because he feels that he is going to yield to it. Then how he begins to tempt God, by asking him again, in hopes that God may have changed his mind. Then when he has his foolish wish granted he goes. Then when the terrible warning comes to him that he is on the wrong road, that God's wrath is gone out against him, and his angel ready to destroy him, he is full still of hollow professions of obedience, instead of casting himself utterly upon God's mercy, and confessing his sin, and entreating pardon. Then how, instead of being frightened at God's letting him have his way, he is emboldened by it to tempt God more and more, and begins offering bullocks and rams on altars, first in this place and then in that, in hopes still that GOD may change his mind, and let him curse Israel; in hopes that God may be like one of the idols of the heathen, who could (so the heathen thought) be coaxed and flattered round by sacrifices to do whatever their worshippers wished. Then, when he finds that all is of no use; that he must not curse Israel, and must not earn Balak's silver and gold, he is forced to be an honest man in spite of himself; and therefore he makes the best of his disappointment by taking mighty credit to himself for being honest, while he wishes all the while he might have been allowed to have been dishonest. Oh, if all this is not poor human nature, drawn by the pen of a truly inspired writer, what is it? Moreover, it is curious to watch how as Balaam is forced step by step to be an honest man, so step by step he rises. A weight falls off his mind and heart, and the Spirit of God comes upon him. He feels for once that he must speak his mind, that he must obey God. As he looks down from off the mountain top, and sees the vast encampment of the Israelites spread over the vale below, for miles and miles, as far as the eye can see, all ordered, disciplined, arranged according to their tribes, the Spirit of God comes upon him, and he gives way to it and speaks. The sight of that magnificent array wakens up in him the thought of how divine is older, how strong is order, how order is the life and root of a nation, and how much more, when that order is the order of God. 'How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, O Israel! As the valleys are they spread forth, as gardens by the river's side, as the trees of lign aloes which the Lord hath planted, and as cedar trees beside the waters. His king shall be higher than Agag,' and all his wild Amalekite hordes. He will be a true nation, civilized, ordered, loyal and united, for God is teaching him. Who can resist such a nation as that? 'God has brought him out of Egypt. He has the strength of an unicorn.' 'I shall see him,' he says, 'but not now; I shall behold him, but not nigh: there shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel, and shall smite the corners of Moab, and destroy all the children of Sheth.' And when he looked on Amalek, he took up his parable, and said, 'Amalek was the first of the nation; but his latter end shall be that he perish for ever.' And he looked on the Kenites, and took up his parable, and said, 'Strong is thy dwelling-place, and thou puttest thy nest in a rock. Nevertheless, the Kenite shall be wasted, till Asshur shall carry thee away captive.' 'Alas, who shall live when God doeth this!' And then, beyond all, after all the Canaanites and other Syrian races have been destroyed, he sees, dimly and afar off, another destruction still. In his home in the far east the fame of the ships of Chittim has reached him; the fame of the new people, the sea-roving heroes of the Greeks, of whom old Homer sang; the handsomest, cunningest, most daring of mankind, who are spreading their little trading colonies along all the isles and shores, as we now are spreading ours over the world. Those ships of Chittim, too, have a great and glorious future before them. Some day or other they will come and afflict Asshur, the great empire of the East, out of which Balaam probably came; and afflict Eber too, the kingdom of the Jews, and they too shall perish for ever. Dimly he sees it, for it is very far away. But that it will come he sees; and beyond that all is dark. He has said his say; he has spoken the whole truth for once. Balak's house full of silver and gold would not have bought him off and stopped his mouth when such awful thoughts crowded on his mind. So he returns to his place--to do what? If he cannot earn Balak's gold by cursing Israel, he can do it by giving him cunning and politic advice. He advises Balak to make friends with the Israelites and mix them up with his people by enticing them to the feasts of his idols, at which the women threw themselves away in shameful profligacy, after the custom of the heathens of these parts. In the next chapter we read how Moses, and Phinehas, Aaron's grandson, put down those filthy abominations with a high hand; and how Balaam's detestable plot, instead of making peace, makes war; and in chapter xxxi. you read the terrible destruction of the whole nation of the Midianites, and among it this one short and terrible hint: 'Balaam also, the son of Beor, they slew with the sword.' But what may we learn from this ugly story? Recollect what I said at first, that we should find Balaam too like many people now-a-days; perhaps too like ourselves. Too like indeed. For never were men more tempted to sin as Balaam did than in these days, when religion is all the fashion, and pays a man, and helps him on in life; when, indeed, a man cannot expect to succeed without professing some sort of religion or other. Thereby comes a terrible temptation to many men. I do not mean to hypocrites, but to really well-meaning men. They like religion. They wish to be good; they have the feeling of devotion. They pray, they read their Bibles, they are attentive to services and to sermons, and are more or less pious people. But soon--too soon-- they find that their piety is profitable. Their business increases. Their credit increases. They are trusted and respected; their advice is asked and taken. They gain power over their fellow-men. What a fine thing it is, they think, to be pious! Then creeps in the love of the world; the love of money, or power, or admiration; and they begin to value religion because it helps them to get on in the world. They begin more and more to love Piety not for its own sake, but for the sake of what it brings; not because it pleases God, but because it pleases the world; not because it enables them to help their fellow-men, but because it enables them to help themselves. So they get double-minded, unstable, inconsistent, as St. James says, in all their ways; trying to serve God and Mammon at once. Trying to do good--as long as doing good does not hurt them in the world's eyes; but longing oftener and oftener to do wrong, if only God would not be angry. Then comes on Balaam's frame of mind, 'If Balak would give me his house full of silver and gold, I cannot go beyond the commandment of the Lord.' Oh no. They would not do a wrong thing for the world--only they must be quite sure first that it is wrong. Has God really forbidden it? Why should they not take care of their interest? Why should they not get on in the world? So they begin, like Balaam, to tempt God, to see how far they can go; to see if God has forbidden this and that mean, or cowardly, or covetous, or ambitious deed. So they soon settle for themselves what God has forbidden and what he has not; and their rule of life becomes this--that whatsoever is safe and whatsoever is profitable is pretty sure to be right; and after that no wonder if, like Balaam, they indulge themselves in every sort of sin, provided only it is respectable, and does not hurt them in the world's eyes. And all the while they keep up their religion. Ay, they are often more attentive than ever to religion, because their consciences pinch them at times, and have to be silenced and drugged by continual church-goings and chapel-goings, and readings and prayings, in order that they may be able to say to themselves with Balaam, 'Thus saith Balaam, he who heard the word of God, and had the knowledge of the Most High.' So they say to themselves, 'I must be right. How religious I am; how fond of sermons, and of church services, and church restorations, and missionary meetings, and charitable institutions, and everything that is good and pious. I MUST be right with God.' Deceiving their ownselves, and saying to themselves, 'I am rich and increased with goods, I have need of nothing,' and not knowing that they are wretched, and miserable, and blind, and naked. Would God that such people, of whom there are too many, would take St. John's warning and buy of the Lord gold tried in the fire--the true gold of honesty--that they may be truly rich, and anoint their eyes with eye-salve that they may see themselves for once as they are. But what does this story teach us concerning God? For remember, as I tell you every Sunday, that each fresh story in the Pentateuch reveals to us something fresh about the character of God. What does Balaam's story reveal? Balaam himself tells us in the text, 'God is not a man that he should lie, nor the son of man that he should repent. Hath he said, and shall he not do it?' Yes. Fancy not that any wishes or prayers of yours can persuade God to alter his everlasting laws of right and wrong. If he has commanded a thing, he has commanded it because it is according to his everlasting laws, which cannot change, because they are made in his eternal image and likeness. Therefore if God has commanded you a thing, DO IT heartily, fully, without arguing or complaining. If you begin arguing with God's law, excusing yourself from it, inventing reasons why YOU need not obey it in this particular instance, though every one else ought, then you will end, like Balaam, in disobeying the law, and it will grind you to powder. But if you obey God's law honestly, with a single eye and a whole heart, you will find in it a blessing, and peace, and strength, and everlasting life. SERMON XV. DEUTERONOMY (Third Sunday after Easter.) Deut. iv. 39, 40. Know therefore this day, and consider it in thine heart, that the Lord he is God in heaven above, and upon the earth beneath: there is none else. Thou shall keep therefore his statutes and his commandments, which I command thee this day, that it may go well with thee, and with thy children after thee, and that thou mayest prolong thy days upon the earth, which the Lord thy God giveth thee, for ever. Learned men have argued much of late as to who wrote the book of Deuteronomy. After having read a good deal on the subject, I can only say that I see no reason why we should not believe the ancient account which the Jews give, that it was written, or at least spoken by Moses. No doubt there are difficulties in the book. If there had not been, there would never have been any dispute about the matter; but the plain, broad, common-sense case is this: The book of Deuteronomy is made up of several great orations or sermons, delivered, says the work itself, by Moses, to the whole people of the Jews, before they left the wilderness and entered into the land of Canaan; wherefore it is called Deuteronomy, or the second law. In it some small matters of the law are altered, as was to be expected, when the Jews were going to change their place and their whole way of life. But the whole teaching and meaning of the book is exactly that of Exodus and Leviticus. Moreover, it is, if possible, the grandest and deepest book of the Old Testament. Its depth and wisdom are unequalled. I hold it to be the sum and substance of all political philosophy and morality of the true life of a nation. The books of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, grand as they are, are, as it were, its children; growths out of the root which Deuteronomy reveals. Now if Moses did not write it, who did? As for the style of it being different from that of Exodus and Leviticus, the simple answer is, Why not? They are books of history and of laws. This is a book of sermons or orations, spoken first, and not written, which, of course, would be in a different style. Besides, why should not Moses have spoken differently at the end of forty years' such experience as never man had before or since? Every one who thinks, writes, or speaks in public, knows how his style alters, as fresh knowledge and experience come to him. Are you to suppose that Moses gained nothing by HIS experience? As for a few texts in it being like Isaiah or Jeremiah, they are likely enough to be so; for if (as I believe) Deuteronomy was written long before those books, what more likely than that Isaiah and Jeremiah should have studied it, and taken some of its words to themselves when they were preaching to the Jews just what Deuteronomy preaches? As for any one else having written it in Moses' name, hundreds of years after his death, I cannot believe it. If there had been in Israel a prophet great and wise enough to write Deuteronomy, we must have heard more about him, for he must have been famous at the time when he did live; while, if he were great enough to write Deuteronomy, he would have surely written in his own name, as Isaiah and all the other prophets wrote, instead of writing under a feigned name, and putting words into Moses' mouth which he did not speak, and laws he did not give. Good men are not in the habit of telling lies: much less prophets of God. Men do not begin to play cowardly tricks of that kind till after they have lost faith in the LIVING God, and got to believe that God was with their forefathers, but is not with them. A Jew of the time of the Apocrypha, or of the time of our Lord, might have done such a thing, because he had lost faith in the living God; but then his work would have been of a very different kind from this noble and heart-stirring book. For the pith and marrow, the essence and life of Deuteronomy is, that it is full of faith in the living God; and for that very reason I am going to speak to you to-day. For the rest, whether Moses wrote the book down, and put it together in the shape in which we now have it, we shall never be able to tell. The several orations may have been put together into one book. Alterations may have crept in by the carelessness of copiers; sentences may have been added to it by later prophets--as, of course, the grand account of Moses' death, which probably was at first the beginning of the book of Joshua. And beyond that we need know nothing--even if we need know that. There the book is; and people, if they be wise, will, instead of trying to pick it to pieces, read and study it in fear and trembling, that the curses pronounced in it may NOT come, and the blessings pronounced in it may come upon this English land. Now these Jews were to worship and obey Jehovah, the one true God, and him only. And why? Why, indeed? You MUST understand why, or you will never understand this book of Deuteronomy or any part of the Old Testament, and if you do not, then you will understand very little, if anything, of the New. You must understand that this was not to be a mere matter of RELIGION with the old Jews, this trusting and obeying the true God. Indeed, the word religion, so far as I know, is never mentioned once in the Old Testament at all. By religion we now mean some plan of believing and obeying God, which will save our souls after we die. But Moses said nothing to the Jews about that. He never even anywhere told them that they would live again after this life. We do not know the reason of that. But we may suppose that he knew best. And as we believe that God sent him, we must believe that God knew best also; and that he thought it good for these Jews not to be told too much about the next life; perhaps for fear that they should forget that God was the living God; the God of now, as well as of hereafter; the God of this life, as well as of the life to come. My friends, I sometimes think we need putting in mind of that in these days as much as those old Jews did. However that may be, what Moses promised these Jews, if they trusted in the living God, was that they should be a great nation, they and their children after them; that they should drive out the Canaanites before them; that they should conquer their enemies, and that a thousand should flee before one of them; that they should be blessed in their crops, their orchards, their gardens; that they should have none of the evil diseases of Egypt; that there should be none barren among them, or among their cattle. In a word, that they should be thoroughly and always a strong, happy, prosperous people. This is what God promised them by Moses, and nothing else; and therefore this is what we must think about, and see whether it has anything to do with us, when we read the book of Deuteronomy, and nothing else. On the other hand, God warned them by the mouth of Moses that if they forgot the Lord God, and went and worshipped the things round them, men or beasts, or sun and moon and stars, then poverty, misery, and ruin of every kind would surely fall upon them. And that this last was no empty threat is proved by the plain facts of their sacred history. For they DID forget God, and worshipped Baalim, the sun, moon, and stars; and ruin of every kind DID come upon them, till they were carried away captive to Babylon. And this we must think of when we read the book of Deuteronomy, and nothing else. If they wished to prosper, they were to know and consider in their hearts that Jehovah was God, and there was none else. Yes-- this was the continual thought which a true Jew was to have. The thought of a God who was HIS God; the God of his fathers before him, and the God of his children after him; the God of the whole nation of the Jews, throughout all their generations. But not their God only. No. The God of the Gentiles also, of all the nations upon the earth. He was to believe that his God alone, of all the gods of the nations, was the true and only God, who had made all nations, and appointed them their times and the bounds of their habitations. We cannot understand now, in these happier days, all that that meant; all the strength and comfort, all the godly fear, the feeling of solemn responsibility which that thought ought to have given, and did give to the Jews--that they were the people of Jehovah, the one true God. For you must remember that all the nations round them then, and all the great heathen nations afterwards, were, as far as we know, the people of some god or other. Religion and politics were with them one and the same thing. They had some god, or gods, whom they looked to as the head or king of their nation, who had a special favour to them, and would bless and prosper them according as they showed him special reverence, and after that god the whole nation was often named. The Ammonites' god was Ammon, the hidden god, the lord of their sheep and cattle. The Zidonians had Ashtoreth, the moon. The Phoenicians worshipped Moloch, the fire. Many of the Canaanites worshipped Baal, the lord, or Baalim, the lords--the sun, moon, and stars. The Philistines afterwards (for we read nothing of Philistines in Moses' time) worshipped Dagon, the fish-god, and so forth. The Egyptians had gods without number--gods invented out of beasts, and birds, and the fruits of the earth, and the season, and the weather, and the sun and moon and stars. Each class and trade, from the highest to the lowest, and each city and town throughout the land seems to have had its special god, who was worshipped there, and expected to take care of that particular class of men or that particular place. What a thought it must have been for the Jews--all these people have their gods, but they are all wrong. We have the RIGHT God; the only true God. They are the people of this god, or of that; we are the people of the one true God. They look to many gods; we look to the one God, who made all things, and beside whom there is none else. They look to one god to bless them in one thing, and another in another; one to send them sunshine, one to send them fruitful seasons, one to prosper their crops, another their flocks and herds, and so forth. We look to one God to do all these things for us, because he is Lord of all at once, and has made all. Therefore we need not fear the gods of the heathen, or cry to any of them, even in our utmost distress; for we belong to him who is before all gods, the God of gods, of whom it is written, 'Worship him, all ye gods;' and 'It is the Lord who made the heaven and the earth, the sea and all that therein is. Him only shalt thou worship, and him only shalt thou serve.' If we obey him, and keep his commandments; if we trust in him, utterly, through good fortune and through bad--then we must prosper in peace and war, we and our children after us; because our prosperity is grounded on the real truth, and that of the heathen on a lie; and all that the heathen expect their false gods to do for them, one here and another there, all that, the one real God will do for us, himself alone. Do you not see what a power and courage that thought must have given to the Jews? Do you not see how worshipping God, and loving God, and serving God, must have been a very different, a much deeper, and a truly holier matter to them than the miserable selfish thing which is miscalled religion by too many people now-a-days, by which a man hopes to creep out of this world into heaven all by himself, without any real care or love for his fellow-creatures, or those he leaves behind him? No. An old Jew's faith in God, and obedience to God, was part of his family life, part of his politics, part of his patriotism. If he obeyed God, and clave earnestly to God, then a blessing would come on him in the field and in the house, on his crops and on his cattle, going out and coming in; and on his children and his children's children to a thousand generations. He would be helping, if he obeyed and trusted God, to advance his country's prosperity; to insure her success in war and peace, to raise the name and fame of the Jewish people among all the nations round, that all might say, 'Surely this great nation is a wise and an understanding people.' Thus the duty he owed to God was not merely a duty which he owed his own conscience or his own soul; it was a duty which he owed to his family, to his kindred, to his country. It was not merely an opinion that there was one God and not two; it was a belief that the one and only true God was protecting him, teaching him, inspiring him and all his nation. That the true God would teach their hands to war and their fingers to fight. That the true God would cause their folds to be full of sheep. That their valleys should stand rich with corn, that they should laugh and sing. That the true God would enable them to sit every man under his own vine and his own fig-tree, and eat the labour of his hands, he and his children after him to perpetual generations. This was the message and teaching which God gave these Jews. It is very different from what many people now-a-days would have given them, if they had had the ordering of the matter, and the making of those slaves into a free nation. But perhaps there is one proof that God DID give it them, and that the Bible speaks truth, when it says that not man, but God gave them their law. No doubt man would have done it differently. But God's ways are not as man's ways, nor God's thoughts as man's thoughts. And God's ways have proved themselves to be the right ways. His purpose has come to pass. This little nation of the Jews, inhabiting a country not as large as Wales, without sea-port towns and commerce, without colonies or conquests--and at last, for its own sins, conquered itself, and scattered abroad over the whole civilized world--has taught the whole civilized world, has converted the whole civilized world, has influenced all the good and all the wise unto this day so enormously, that the world has actually gone beyond them, and become Christian by fully understanding their teaching and their Bible, while they have remained mere Jews by not fully understanding it. Truly, if that is not a proof that God revealed something to the Jews which they never found out for themselves, which was too great for them to understand, which was God's boundless message and not any narrow message of man's invention--if that does not prove it, I say--I know not what proof men would have. But now I have told you that God bade these Jews to look for blessings in THIS life, and blessings on their whole nation, and on their children after them, if they obeyed and served him. Does God NOT bid us to look for any such blessings? The Jews were to be blessed in THIS world. Are we only to be blessed in the next? To that the Seventh Article of our Church gives a plain and positive answer. For it says that those are not to be heard who pretend that the old Fathers, i.e. Moses and the Prophets, looked only for transitory promises--i.e. for promises which would pass away. No. They looked for eternal promises which could not pass away, because they were according to the eternal laws of God, which stand good both for this world and for all worlds for this life and for the life everlasting. Yes, my friends, settle in your hearts that the book of Deuteronomy is meant for you, and for all the nations upon earth, as much as for the old Jews. That its promises and warnings are to you and to your children as surely as they were to the old Jews. Ay, that they are meant for every nation that is, or ever was, or ever will be upon earth. If you would prosper on the earth, fear God and keep his commandments; and know and consider it in your heart that the Lord Jesus Christ he is God in heaven above and on the earth beneath: there is none else. He it is who gives grace and honour. He it is who delivers us out of the hands of our enemies. He it is who blesses the fruit of the womb, and the fruit of the flock, and the fruit of the garden and the field. He is the living God, in whom this world, as well as the world to come, lives and moves and has its being; and only by obeying his laws can man prosper, he and his children after him, upon this earth of God. SERMON XVI. NATIONAL WEALTH (Fifth Sunday after Easter.) Deut. viii. 11-18. Beware that thou forget not the Lord thy God, in not keeping his commandments, and his judgments, and his statutes, which I command thee this day: lest when thou hast eaten and art full, and hast built goodly houses, and dwelt therein; and when thy herds and thy flocks multiply, and thy silver and thy gold is multiplied, and all that thou hast is multiplied; then thine heart be lifted up, and thou forget the Lord thy God, which brought thee forth out of the land of Egypt, from the house of bondage; who led thee through that great and terrible wilderness, wherein were fiery serpents, and scorpions, and drought, where there was no water; who brought thee forth water out of the rock of flint; who fed thee in the wilderness with manna, which thy fathers knew not, that he might humble thee and that he might prove thee, to do thee good at thy latter end: and thou say in thine heart, My power and the might of mine hand hath gotten me this wealth. But thou shall remember the Lord thy God: for it is he that giveth thee power to get wealth, that he may establish his covenant which he sware unto thy fathers, as it is this day. I told you before that the book of Deuteronomy was the foundation of all sound politics--as one would expect it to be, if its author were Moses, the greatest lawgiver whom the world ever saw. But here, in this lesson, is a proof of the truth of what I said. For here, in the text, is Moses' answer to the first great question in politics, What makes a nation prosperous? To that wise men have always answered, as Moses answered, 'Good government; government according to the laws of God.' That alone makes a nation prosperous. But the multitude--who are not wise men, nor likely to be for some time to come--give a different answer. They say, 'What makes a nation prosperous is its wealth. If Britain be only RICH, then she must be safe and right.' To which Moses, being a wise lawgiver, and having, moreover, in him the Spirit of the Lord who knoweth what is in man, makes a reasonable, liberal, humane answer. Moses does not deny that wealth is a good thing. He does not bid them not try to be rich. He takes for granted that they will grow rich; that the national fruit of their good government will be that they will increase in cattle and in crops and in money, and in all which makes an agricultural people rich. He takes for granted, I say, that these Jews will grow very rich; but he warns them that their riches, like all other earthly things, may be a curse or a blessing to them. Nay, that they are not good in themselves, but mere tools which may be used for good or for evil. He warns them of a very great danger that riches will bring on them. And herein he shows his knowledge of the human heart; for it is a certain fact that whenever any nation has prospered, and their flocks and herds, and silver and gold, all that they had, have multiplied, then they have, as Moses warned the Jews, forgotten the Lord their God, and said, 'My power and the might of my hand hath gotten me this wealth.' And it is true, also, that whenever any nation has begun to say that, they have fallen into confusion and misery, and sometimes into utter ruin, till they repented, and turned and remembered the Lord their God, and found out that the strength of a nation did not consist in riches, but in VIRTUE. For it is he that giveth the power to get wealth. He gives it in two ways: First, God gives the raw material; secondly, he gives the wit to use it. You will all agree that God gives the first; that he gives the soil, the timber, the fisheries, the coal, the iron. Do you believe it? I hope and trust that you do. But I fear that now-a-days many do not; for they boast of the resources of Britain as if we ourselves had made Britain, and not Almighty God; as if we had put the coal and the iron into the rocks, and not Almighty God ages before we were born. And if they will not say that openly, at least they will say, 'But the coal, and iron, and all other raw material would have been useless, if it had not been for the genius and energy of the British race.' Of course not. But who gave them that genius and energy? Who gave them the wit to find the coal and iron? God; and God gave it to us when we needed it, and not before. Think of this, I beseech you; for it is true, and wonderful, and a thing of which I may say, 'Come, and I will reason with you of the righteous acts of the Lord.' Men say, 'As long as England is ahead of the world in coal and iron she may defy the world.' I do not believe it; for if she became a wicked nation all the coal and iron in the universe would not keep her from being ruined. But even if it were true, which it is not, that the strength of Britain lies in coal and iron, and not in British hearts, what right have we to boast of coal and iron? Did our forefathers know of them when they came into this land? Did they come after coal and iron? Not they. They came here to settle as small yeomen; to till miserable little patches of corn, of which we should be now ashamed, and to feed cattle on the moors, and swine in the forests--and that was all they looked to. Then they found that there was iron, principally down south, in Sussex and Surrey; and they worked it, clumsily enough, with charcoal; and for more than twelve hundred years they were here in England, with no notion of the boundless wealth in iron and coal lying together in the same rocks which God had provided for them; or if they did guess at it, they could not use it, because they could not work deep mines, being unable to pump out the water; for God had not opened their eyes and shown them how to do it. But just when it was wanted, God did show them. About the middle of the last century the iron in the Weald was all but worked out; the charcoal wood was getting scarcer and scarcer, and there was every chance that England, instead of being ahead of all nations in iron, would have fallen behind other nations; and then where should we have been now? But, just about one hundred years ago, it pleased God to open the eyes of certain men, and they invented steam-engines. Then they could pump the mines, then they could discover and use the vast riches of our coal-mines. Then, too, sprung up a thousand useful arts and manufactures; while the land, not being wanted for charcoal and firewood, as of old, could be cleared of wood, and thousands of acres set free to grow corn. Population, which had been all but standing still, without increasing, has now more than doubled, and wealth inestimable has come to this generation, of which our forefathers never dreamed. Now what have we to boast of in that? What, save to confess ourselves a very stupid race, who for twelve hundred years could not discover, or at least use the boundless wealth which God had given us, because we had not wit enough to invent so simple a thing as a steam-engine. All we should do, instead of boasting, is to bless God that he revealed to us just what we needed, and at the very time at which we needed it, and confess that it is HE that giveth us power to get wealth. It is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves. Look again at another case, even more extraordinary, which has happened during our own times--indeed within the last ten years--the discovery of gold in Australia. There had been rumours and whispers of gold for years before; and yet no one looked for gold, cared for it, hardly believed in it. God had dulled their understanding and blinded their eyes for some good purpose of his own. That is what the Bible would have said of such a matter, and that is what we should say. And at last some man finds lying out upon the downs a huge lump of gold--by accident (as men call it; by the special providence of God, as they ought to call it); and at that every one starts up and awakes, and begins looking for gold. And now that their eyes are opened, behold! the gold is everywhere. Not merely in lonely forests and unexplored mountains, but on farms where the sheep have been pastured for years past; ay, even Melbourne streets were full of gold, under the feet of the passengers and the wheels of the carriages; there had the gold been all along, but men could not see it till God opened their eyes. Verily, verily, God is great, and man is small. I do not say that this was a miracle in the common meaning of the word; but I do say that this was a striking instance of that everlasting and special providence of the living God, who ordereth all things in heaven and earth, from the rise of a nation to the fall of a sparrow; and does so, not by breaking his own laws, but by making his laws work exactly as he will, when he will, and where he will; and I say that it is a fresh proof of the great saying, that no man can see a thing unless God shows it to him. For it is the Lord who gives us power to get wealth. It is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; and in him we live and move, and have our being. This, then, was what Moses commanded--to remember that they owed all to God. What they had, they had of God's free gift. What they were, they were by God's free grace. Therefore they were not to boast of themselves, their numbers, their wealth, their armies, their fair and fertile land. They were to make their boast of God, and of God's goodness. He that gloried was to glory in the Lord, and confess that a Syrian ready to perish was their father Jacob, when the Lord had mercy on him, and made him the head of a great tribe, and the father of a great nation; that not themselves, but God had brought them out of Egypt with signs and wonders; that they got not the land in possession by their own bow, neither was it their own sword that helped them, but that God had driven out before them nations greater and mightier than they. This they were to remember, because it was true. And this we are to remember, because it is more or less true of us. God has put us where we are. God has made of us a great nation; God has discovered to us the immense riches of this land. It is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves. But more. You will see that Moses warns them that if they forget God, the Lord who brought them out of the land of Egypt, they would go after other gods. He cannot part the two things. If they forget that God brought them out of Egypt, they will turn to idolatry, and so end in ruin. Now why was this? Why should not the Jews have gone on worshipping one God, even if they had forgotten that he brought them out of the land of Egypt? Some people now-a-days think that they would, and that they might have very well been what is called Monotheists, without believing all the story of the signs and wonders in Egypt, and the passage of the Red Sea, and the giving of the law to Moses. Such men may be very learned; but there is one thing of which they know very little, and that is, human nature. Moses knew human nature; and he knew that if men forgot that God was the living God, the acting God, who had helped them once, and was helping them always, and only believed about there being one God far away in heaven, and not two, that THAT sort of dead faith in a dead God would never keep them from idols. They would want gods who WOULD help them, who WOULD hear their prayers, to whom they could feel gratitude and trust; and they would invent them for themselves, and begin to worship things in the heavens above, and the earth beneath, because they had forgotten their true friend and helper, the living God. And so shall we. If we forget that God is the living God, who brought our forefathers into this land; who has revealed to us the wealth of it step by step, as we needed it; who is helping and blessing us now, every day and all the year round--then we shall begin worshipping other gods. I do not mean that we shall worship idols, though I do not see why our children's children should not do so a few hundred years hence if we teach them to forget the living God. There are too many Christians at this day who worship saints, and idols of wood and stone; and so may our descendants do--or do even worse. But we ourselves shall begin--indeed we are doing it too much already--worshipping the so-called laws of nature, instead of God who made the laws, and so honouring the creature above the creator; or else we shall worship the pomps and vanities of this world, pride and power, money and pleasure, and say in our hearts, 'These are our only gods which can help us--these must we obey.' Which if we do, this land of England will come to ruin and shame, as surely as did the land of Israel in old time. If we do not believe in the living God, we shall believe in something worse than even a dead god. For in a dead god--a god who does nothing, but lets mankind and the world go their own way--no man nor nation ever will care to believe. And now, nay dear friends, remember that a nation is, after all, only the people in that nation: you, and I, and our neighbours, and our neighbours' neighbours, and so forth; and that therefore, in as far as we are wrong, we do our worst to make the British nation wrong. If we give way to ungodly pride and self-sufficiency, then we are injuring ourselves; and not only that, but injuring our neighbours and our children after us, as far as we can. And therefore our duty is, if we wish well to our nation, not to judge our neighbour, nor our neighbour's neighbour, but to judge ourselves. If we go on trusting in ourselves rather than God; if we keep within us the hard self-sufficient spirit, and boast to ourselves (though we may be ashamed to boast to our neighbours), 'My power and the strength of my hands have got me this and that;' and in fact live under the notion, which too many have, that we could do very well without God's help if God would let us alone--then we are heaping up ruin and shame for ourselves and for our children after us. Ruin and shame, I say. We are apt to forget how easy and common it is for God to turn the wisdom of men into folly; to frustrate the tokens of the liars, and make the prophets mad. How men blow great bubbles, and God bursts them with the slightest touch. How, when all seems well, and men cry peace and safety, sudden destruction comes upon them unawares. How, when men say, 'Soul, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry; thou hast much goods laid up for many years,' God answers, 'Thou fool, this night shall thy soul be required of thee.' My friends, we see God doing thus in these very days by great nations, by great branches of industry. Look at the American war, look at the Manchester cotton famine, and see how God can confound the strong and cunning, and blind their eyes to the ruin which is coming till it is come in all its might. And then think, If it be so easy for him to confound such as them, is it less easy for him to confound you and me, if we begin to fancy that we can do without him, and ask, 'Doth God perceive it? Or is there knowledge in the Most High? We are they that ought to speak. Who is Lord over us?' Yes, in this sense God is indeed a jealous God, who will not give his honour to another. And a blessed thing for men it is that God IS a jealous God, that he WILL punish us for trusting in anything but him--will punish us for trusting in ourselves, or in our wisdom, or in wealth, or in science, or in armies and navies, or in constitutions and laws; in anything, in short, save the living God. For if he left us alone to go our own way without trusting or fearing him, we should surely go down and down (as the Chinese seem to have gone down), generation after generation, till we became only a mere cunning and spiteful sort of animals, hateful and hating one another. But when we are chastened for our folly, we are chastened by him that we may be partakers of his holiness; that we may be his children, looking up to him as our father, from whom comes every good and perfect gift; the Father of Lights, with whom is no variableness or shadow of turning; and who therefore will and can give us, his children, light, more and more to understand those his invariable and eternal laws, by which he has made earth and heaven; who has given us his Son Jesus Christ our Lord, and will with him likewise freely give us all things. SERMON XVII. THE GOD OF THE RAIN (Fifth Sunday after Easter.) DEUT. xi. 11, 12. The land, whither ye go to possess it, is a land of hills and valleys, and drinketh water of the rain of heaven. A land which the Lord thy God careth for: the eyes of the Lord thy God are always upon it, from the beginning of the year, even unto the end of the year. I told you, when I spoke of the earthquakes of the Holy Land, that it seems as if God had meant specially to train that strange people the Jews, by putting them into a country where they MUST trust him, or become cowards and helpless; that so they might learn not to fear the powers of Nature which the heathen worshipped, but to fear him the living God. In this chapter is another instance of the same. They were to be an agricultural people. Their very worship was (if you can understand such a thing now-a-days) to be agricultural. Pentecost was a feast of the first-fruits of the harvest. The Feast of Tabernacles was a great national harvest home. The Passover itself, though not at first an agricultural festival, became one by the waving of the Paschal sheaf, which gave permission to the people to begin their spring-harvest--so thoroughly were they to be an agricultural and cattle-feeding people. They were going into a good land, a land of milk and honey and oil olive; a land of vines and figs and pomegranates; a rich land; but a most uncertain land--a land which might yield a splendid crop one year, and be almost barren the next. It was not as the land of Egypt--a land which was, humanly speaking, sure to be fertile, because always supplied with water, brought out of the Nile by dykes and channels which spread in a network over every field, and where--as I believe is done now--the labourer turned the water from one land to the other simply by moving the earth with his foot. It was a mountain land, a land of hills and valleys, and drank water of the rain of heaven; a land of fountains of water, which required to be fed continually by the rain. In that hot climate it depended entirely on God's providence from week to week whether a crop could grow. Therefore it was a land which the Lord cared for--a land which needed his special help, and it had it. 'The eyes of the Lord God were always upon it, from the beginning of the year unto the end of the year.' Beautiful, simple, noble, true words--deeper than all the learned words, however true they may be (and true they are, and to be listened to with respect), which men talk about the laws of Nature and of weather. Who would change them for all the scientific phrases in the world? The eyes of the Lord were upon the land. It needed his care; and therefore his care it had. Therefore the Jew was to understand from his first entry into the land, that his prosperity depended utterly on God. The laws of weather, by which the rain comes up off the sea, were unknown to him. They are all but unknown to us now. But they were known to God. Not a drop could fall without his providence and will; and therefore they were utterly in his power. 'And it shall come to pass, if ye shall hearken diligently unto my commandments which I command you this day, to love the Lord your God, and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul, that I will give you the rain of your land in his due season, the first rain and the latter rain, that thou mayest gather in thy corn, and thy wine, and thine oil. And I will send grass in thy fields for thy cattle, that thou mayest eat and be full. Take heed to yourselves, that your heart be not deceived, and ye turn aside and serve other gods, and worship them; and then the Lord's wrath be kindled against you, and he shut up the heaven, that there be no rain, and that the land yield not her fruit; and lest ye perish quickly from off the good land which the Lord giveth you.' Now the Bible story is, that this warning came true. More than once we read of drought--long, and severe, and ruinous. In one famous case, there was no rain for three years; and Ahab has to go out to search through the land for a scrap of pasture. 'Peradventure we shall find grass enough to save the horses and mules alive.' And most distinctly does the Bible say that these droughts came at times when the Jews had fallen into idolatry, and profligacy therewith. That is the Scripture account. And if you believe in the living God, whose providence ordereth all things in heaven and earth, that account will seem reasonable and credible to you. What special means God used to bring about these great droughts we cannot know, any more than we can know why a storm or a shower should come one week and not another. And we need not know. God made the world, and God governs the world, and that is enough for us. Be that as it may, Moses goes down to the very root and ground and true cause of the riches of the land, and of the rainfall, and of the prosperity of the Jews, and of the prosperity of any living nation on earth, when he says, 'Therefore shall ye lay up these my words in your heart and in your soul, and bind them for a sign upon your hand, that they may be as frontlets between your eyes.' 'Ye shall lay up these my words in your heart and your soul, and teach them your children when thou sittest in thine house and when thou walkest by the way, when thou liest down and when thou risest up.' That is, thou shalt believe continually in a living God--a God who is working everywhere at every moment, about thy path and about thy bed, and spying out all thy ways; and not only about thee, but about all that thou seest. From him comes alike rain and sunshine; from him comes the life of man; from him comes all which makes it possible for man to live upon the earth. And it is a plain fact that the Jews for a long time did believe this--at least the prophets, psalmists and good men among them--to the most intense degree; to a degree in which perhaps no nation has believed it since. With them God is everything, and man nothing. Man finds out nothing: God reveals it to him. Man's intellect does nothing: the Spirit of God gives him understanding to do it--even, says Isaiah, understanding to plough, and to sow, and to reap his crops in due season. It is the Spirit of God, according to the prophets and psalmists, which makes the difference between a man and a beast. But upon the beasts too, and the green things of the earth, and on all nature, the Spirit of God works. He is the Lord and giver of life. Take only those four Psalms, the 8th, 18th, 29th, 104th, and learn from them what the old Jews thought of this wonderful world in which we live. 'These all wait upon thee'--all living things by land and sea--'that thou mayest give them meat in due season. When thou givest it them they gather it. When thou openest thy hand they are filled with good. When thou hidest thy face they are troubled. When thou takest away their breath they die, and are turned again to their dust. When thou lettest thy breath go forth they shall be made, and thou shalt renew the face of the earth.' So again, in the world of man, God is the living Judge, the living overlooker, rewarder, punisher of every man, not only in the life to come, but in this life. His providence is a special providence. But not such a poor special providence as men are too apt to dream of now-a-days, which interferes only now and then on some great occasion, or on behalf of some very favoured persons, but a special providence looking after every special act of man, and of the whole universe, from the fall of a sparrow to the fall of an empire. And it is this intense faith in the living God, which can only come by the inspiration of the Spirit of God, which proves the old Testament to be truly inspired. This it is which makes it different from all books in the world. This it is, I hold, which marks the canon of Scripture. For in the Apocrypha--true, noble, and good as most of it is--you do not find the same intense faith in the living God, or anything to be compared therewith; and that for the simple reason that the Jews, at the time the Apocrypha was written, were losing that faith very fast. They felt themselves that there was an immense difference between anything that they could write and what the old psalmists and prophets had written. They felt that they could not write Scripture. All they could do was to write commentaries about it, and to carry out in their own fashion Moses' command, 'Thou shalt bind my words for a sign upon your hands, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes, and thou shalt write them upon the doorposts of thine house.' They were right in that; but as they lost faith in the living God, they began to observe the command in the letter, and neglect it in the spirit. You know--some of you, at least--how these words were misused afterwards; how the scribes and the Pharisees, in their zeal to carry out the letter of the law, went about with texts of Scripture on their foreheads, and wrists, and the hems of their robes, enlarging their phylacteries, as our Lord said of them. But all the time they did not understand the texts, or love them, or get any good from them; but only made them excuses for hating and scoffing at the rest of the world. They had them written only on their foreheads, not on their hearts--an outside and not an inside religion. They had lost all faith in the living God. God had spoken, of course, to their forefathers; but they could not believe that he was speaking to them--not even when he spoke by his only begotten Son, the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person. God, so they held, had finished his teaching when Malachi uttered his last prophecy. And now it was for them to teach, and expound the law at secondhand. There could be no more prophets, no more revelation; and when one came and spoke with authority, at first hand, out of the depth of his own heart, he was to be persecuted, stoned, crucified. No. They had the key of knowledge; and no man could enter in, unless they chose to open the door. Nothing new could be true. John the Baptist came neither eating nor drinking, and they said, 'He hath a devil.' The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they said, 'Behold a gluttonous man and a wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners.' And meanwhile the poor, the ignorant, those whose hearts were really in earnest, were looking out for a prophet and a deliverer--often going after false prophets, with Theudas and Barcochab, into the wilderness; but going, too, to be baptized with the baptism of John, and crowding in thousands to hear our Lord preach to them of the living God of whom Moses had preached of old; while the scribes and Pharisees sat at home, wrapped up in their narrow, shallow book- divinity, and said, 'This people, who knoweth not the law, is accursed.' Nothing new could be true. It must be put down, persecuted down, lest the Romans should come and take away their place and nation. But they did not succeed. Our Lord and his truth, whom they crucified and buried, rose again the third day and conquered; and the Romans came after all, and took away their place and nation. And so they failed, as all will fail, who will not believe in the living God. My friends, all these things were written for our example. As it was then, so may it be again. There may come a time in this land when people shall profess to worship the word of God; and yet, like those old scribes, make it of none effect by their own commandments and traditions. When they shall command men, like the scribes, to honour every word and letter of the Bible, and yet forbid them to take the Bible simply and literally as it stands, but only their interpretation of the Bible; when they shall say, with the scribes, 'Nothing new can be true. God taught the Apostles, and therefore he is not teaching us. God worked miracles of old; but whosoever thinks that God is working miracles now is a Pantheist and a blasphemer. God taught men of old the thing which they knew not; but whosoever dares to say that he does so now is bringing heresy and false doctrine, and undermining the Christian faith by science falsely so called.' And all because they have lost all faith in the living God--the ever-working, ever-teaching, ever-inspiring, ever-governing God whom our Lord Jesus Christ revealed to men; in whom the Apostles, and the Fathers, and the great middle-age Schoolmen, and the Reformers believed, and therefore learned more and more, and taught men more and more concerning God and the dealings of God, as time went on. And then, when they see ignorant people running after quacks and impostors, spirit-rappers and table-turners, St. Simonians and Mormons, and false prophets of every kind, they will have nothing to say but 'This people which knoweth not the law is accursed.' While when they see anything like new truth, or new teaching from God appear, instead of welcoming the light, and going to meet the light, and accepting the light, they will say, 'What shall we do? For all men will believe on him, and then the powers of this world will come and take away our station and our order?' As if Christ could not take better care of his Church for which he died than they can in his stead! And so they will persecute God's servants, in the name of God, and call upon the law to put down by force the men whom they cannot put down by reason. From ever falling into that state of stupid lip-belief, and outward religion, and loss of faith in the living God: Good Lord, deliver us. From all blindness of heart; from pride, vainglory, and hypocrisy; from envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness: Good Lord, deliver us. From all false doctrine, heresy, and schism; from hardness of heart and contempt of thy word and commandment: Good Lord, deliver us. For if people ever fall into that frame of mind (as did the scribes and Pharisees), and the good Lord do not deliver them from it, it will surely happen to them as it is written in the Bible. The powers of this world will come and take away their place, and their power, and their station: but meanwhile the truth which they think that they have stifled will rise again, for Christ, who is the truth, will raise it again; and it shall conquer and leaven the hearts of men till all be leavened; and while the scribes and Pharisees shall be cast into the outer darkness of discontented and hopeless bigotry, the kingdoms of the world, which they fancied were the devil's dominion, shall become the kingdoms of God and of his Christ, and be adopted into that holy and ever-growing Church, of which it is written, that the gates of hell shall not prevail against it, for in it is the Spirit of God to lead it into all truth. To which blessed end may God bring us, and our children after us. Amen. SERMON XVIII. THE DEATH OF MOSES (First Sunday after Trinity.) DEUT. xxxiv. 5, 6. So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord. And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day. Some might regret that the last three chapters of Deuteronomy are not read among our Sunday lessons. There was not, however, room for them; and I do not doubt that those who chose our lessons knew better than I what chapters they ought to choose. We may, however, read them for ourselves, not only in the daily lessons, but as often as we choose. And well worth reading they are. For I know of no stronger proof of the truth of the book of Deuteronomy, and of the whole Pentateuch, than its ending so differently from what we should have expected, or indeed wished. If things went in this world, as they do in novels and fables, according to man's notion of what is right and good, then Moses and his history would have had a very different ending. And if the story of Moses had been of man's invention, we should have heard--I think, from what we know of the fables, 'myths' as they call them now, which nations have invented about themselves, and their own early history, we may guess fairly what we should have heard--how Moses brought the Jews into the land of Canaan, and established his laws, and reigned over them, and died in honour and great glory--if he died at all, and was not taken up into the skies, and changed into a star, or into a god; and how he was buried with great pomp; and how his sepulchre did remain among the Jews until that day; and probably how men worshipped at it, and miracles were worked at it, and so forth. Also, we should have heard how, as soon as the Israelites came into the land of Canaan, they began forthwith to serve the Lord with all their heart and soul, as they never did afterwards, and to keep Moses' law, while it was yet fresh in their minds, more exactly than ever they did afterwards; and in short, we should have had one of those stories of a 'golden age,' a 'good old time,' a pattern-time of early purity and devotion, of which nations and Churches, of all tongues and all creeds, have been so ready to dream in their own case; and which they have used, not altogether ill, to rebuke vice in their own day, by saying, 'Look how perfect your forefathers were. Look how you, their unworthy children, have fallen from their faith and their virtue.' This, I think, is what we should have been told if the Pentateuch had been the invention of man. This is exactly what we are NOT told; but, on the contrary, the very opposite. What we are told is disappointing, sad, gloomy, full of dark fears and warnings about what the Jews will be and what they will have to endure. But it is far more true to human nature, and to the facts which we see in the world about us, than any story of a good old time would have been. They are still wandering in the land of Moab, when the time draws near when Moses must die. He is a hundred and twenty years old, but hale and vigorous still. His eye is not dim, nor his natural force abated. But the Lord has told him that his death is near. He gives the command of the army of Israel to Joshua the son of Nun, and then he speaks his last words. Songs they are, dark and rugged, like all the higher Hebrew poetry; but, like it, full of the very Spirit of God--the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of faith and of the fear of the Lord. There are three of these songs which seem to belong to those last days of his. The Prayer of Moses the man of God--which is our 90th Psalm, our burial Psalm. We all know the sadness of that Psalm; its weariness, as of one who had laboured long, and would fain be at rest; its confession of man's frailty--fading away suddenly like the grass; its confession of God's strength, God from everlasting, before the mountains were brought forth; its eternal gospel of hope and comfort, that the strength of God takes pity on the weakness of man, 'Lord, thou hast been our refuge, from one generation to another.' Then comes the Song of the Rock--the song of which (it seems) the Lord said to him, 'Write this song, and teach it the children of Israel, that it may be a witness for me against them.' And so Moses writes; and seemingly before all the congregation of Israel, according to the custom of those times, he chants his death- song, the Song of the Rock. It is such a song as we should expect from him. God is the Rock. He was thinking, it may be, of the everlasting rocks of Sinai, where God had appeared to him of old. But God is the true, everlasting Rock, on which all things rest; the Eternal, the Self-existent, the I Am, whom he was sent to preach to men. But he is a good and righteous God likewise. His work is perfect. 'A God of truth, and without iniquity, just and right is he.' In him Moses can trust, but not in the children of Israel; they are a perverse and crooked generation, who have waxen fat and kicked. God has done all for them, but they will not obey him. Even in the wilderness they have worshipped strange gods, and sacrificed to devils, not to God; and so they will do after Moses is gone; and then on them will come all the curses of which he has so often warned them. 'The sword without, and terror within, shall destroy both the young man and the virgin, the suckling also with the man of gray hairs. O that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end! How should one chase a thousand; and two put ten thousand to flight?' What a people they might be, and what a future there is before them, if they would but be true to God! But they will not. And so Moses' death-song, like his life's wish, ends in disappointment and sadness, and dread of the evils which are coming upon his beloved countrymen. Lastly, he blesses them, tribe by tribe, in strange and grand words, such as dying men utter, who, looking earnestly across the dark river of death, see further than they ever saw amid the cares and temptations of life. And he blesses them. He will say nothing of them but good. He will speak not of what they will be, but of what they ought to be and can be. But not in their own strength--only in the strength of God. Man is to be nothing to the last; and God is all in all. 'There is none like unto the God of Jeshurun, who rideth upon the heaven in thy help, and in his excellency on the sky. The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. 'Happy art thou, O Israel: who is like unto thee, O people saved by the Lord, the shield of thy help and who is the sword of thy excellency! and thine enemies shall be found liars unto thee; and thou shalt tread upon their high places.' Those are the last words of Moses. Then he goes up into the mountain top, never to return; and the children of Israel are left alone with God and their own souls, to obey and prosper, or disobey and die. The time of their schooling is past, and their schoolmaster is gone for ever. They are no more to be under a human tutor. They are come to man's estate and man's responsibility, and they are to work out their own fortunes by their own deeds, like every other soul of man. For Moses himself must not enter into the promised land. In spite of all his faith, his courage, his endurance, his patriotism, he has sinned against God, and he must be punished; and punished, too, in kind--in the very thing which he will feel most deeply, in being shut out from the very happiness on which he has set his heart all along. He who has brought the Jews to the edge of the promised land must not have the honour and glory of taking them into it. He must have no honour and glory. That must be God's alone. Man must be nothing, and God all in all. Moses must die in faith, not having received the promises, as many another saint of God has died. And why? To teach him and the Jews and us that man IS nothing, and God is all in all. Moses had given way to the very temptation which would beset such a man. He had spoken unadvisedly with his lips, and said, 'Hear now, ye rebels, or ye fools, must WE bring you water out of this rock?' WE, and not God. He had claimed for himself the power and glory of working miracles. The miracles, he thought for a moment, were his, and not God's. And it may be that this was not the only time that he had so sinned. He may naturally have thought that he had some special power and influence with God. But be that as it may, the Jews were trained to believe that the miracles were God's, God's immediate work, and not performed by the wisdom or sanctity or supernatural power of any saint or prophet whatsoever. Let the Jews once learn to give the honour and glory to Moses, and not to God, and the whole of their strange education went for nothing. Instead of worshipping God they would begin to worship saints. Instead of trusting in God, they would begin to trust in men; whether on earth or in heaven matters not. If Moses was to have the honour and glory, the Jews would surely grow into a superstitious, saint- worshipping, miracle-mongering people, and come to ruin and slavery thereby. They were to fear God and nought else. To trust in God and nought else. So Moses must vanish out of their sight, sadly and mysteriously. All they know of him is, that he is punished for a sin which he committed long ago, as you and I may be. All they know of his death and burial is, that his body was not left foully to the birds of the air and the beasts of the field; for the Lord buried him. They know not how, and did not need to know. And we need not know. Enough for them and for us to know that no dishonour was done to the grand old man; that as he died far away on the lonely mountain top without a child to close his eyes, his last look fixed upon the good land and large which lay spread out below, of entering which he had been dreaming for forty--it may be for more than forty--years. Enough for us to know that the kindly earth received his body again into her bosom, and that the true Moses--the immortal spirit of the man-- returned to God who created him, and inspired him, and sustained him to be perhaps the greatest man--save One who was more than man--who ever trod this earth. So our human feelings, like those of the Jews, are satisfied. But Moses is not to be worshipped by them or by us; no splendid temple is to rise over his bones; no lamps are to burn, or priest to chant round his shrine; no miracles are to be worked by his relics; no man is to invoke his patronage and intercession in their prayers. The people whom he has brought out of Egypt are to be free--free from the slavery of the body, free from the more degrading slavery of the soul. And so they go on over Jordan to fulfil their strange destiny, to fight their way into the promised land, to root out the Canaanite tribes, whose iniquity was full, whose sins had made them a nuisance not to be suffered on the earth of God. But do they go to establish a golden age; to become a perfect people? Nothing less. To become, according to the book of Judges, just what Moses foretold--an ignorant, selfish, often profligate and disorderly people, doing each what is right in his own eyes, falling continually into idolatry, civil war, and slavery to the heathens round about. Nothing more shows the truth of this history than its humility, its continual confession of sin, its readiness to confess the ugly truth that the Jews are a foolish, ignorant, unmanageable, lawless, sensual race, stiffnecked and rebellious, always resisting the Holy Spirit. The immense difference between the Old Testament history and that of all other nations is, that it is a history not of their virtues, but of their sins; and a history, on the other hand, of God's punishments and mercies. God in the Old Testament is all, and the Jews are nothing; and one may say that it differs from all other histories in this, that it is not a history of the Jews themselves at all, but a history of God's dealings with them. If any man chooses to explain that, by saying that the story was all invented by priests and prophets afterwards, to rebuke the people for falling into idolatry, he must have his fancy. Thought is free- -for the present, at least--though it is written that for every idle word that men speak, they shall give account at the day of judgment. But one question I must ask, and I am sure that British common sense and British honesty will ask it too: If these prophets were really good men, fearing God, and wishing to make their countrymen fear him likewise, would it not have been a rather strange way of showing that they feared God to tell their countrymen a set of fables and lies? Good men are not in the habit of telling lies now, and never have been; for no lie is of the truth, or can possibly help the truth in any way; and all liars have their portion in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone. And that such men as the prophets of whom we read in the Old Testament did not know that, and therefore invented this history, or invented anything else, is a thing incredible and absurd. Here we have the Old Testament, an infinitely good book, giving us infinitely good advice and good news, and news too concerning God-- God's laws, God's providence, God's dealings, such as we get nowhere else. And shall we believe that this infinitely good book is founded upon falsehood? or that the good men who wrote it could fancy it necessary to stoop to falsehood, and take the devil's tools wherewith to do God's work? That they may have been imperfectly informed on some points there is no doubt; for the Bible tells us that they were men of like passions with ourselves, and they may not always have been true to the Spirit of God who was teaching them, even as we are not, though he teaches us. They only knew in part and prophesied in part; and now that which is perfect is come, that which is in part is done away; the mystery of Christ was not revealed to them as it has been to us by the holy apostles and prophets of the new dispensation, of which St. Paul says, comparing it with the knowledge which the old Jews had when the gospel came, That the glory of the law had no glory, by reason of the more excellent glory of the gospel. They may, I say, have made slight errors in unimportant matters, though it is far more probable that those errors have crept into the text, as the Scriptures were copied again and again through many centuries by different scribes, of whose perfect good sense and honesty we cannot be certain. But who that really values his Bible cares for them any more than he cares for the spots on the sun which he can find through a telescope? The sun still shines, and gives light to the whole earth, and the Bible still shines, and gives light to every soul of man who will read it in reverence and faith. But that the prophets ever invented, or ever dared to tamper with truth, is a thing not to be believed of men whose writings are plainly, by their own meaning and end, inspired by the Holy Spirit of God. One more reason--and a reason which to me is unanswerable--for believing, like our forefathers, that the Old Testament is true. The Old Testament, as well as the New, tells us of the 'noble acts' of the Lord--of certain gracious and merciful and just things which the Lord did to the children of Israel. But if that be not true, what follows? That God has not done the noble acts which men thought he had, and therefore that God is not as noble as men thought he was; that men have actually fancied for themselves a better God than the God who exists already. Absurd. Absurd, truly; and if you choose to call it by a harder name still, you have a right to do so. Do not you think that God must be better, not worse; more generous, not less; more condescending, not less; more just, not less; more helpful, not less, than man can fancy or describe? Are not the riches of Christ unsearchable, and the mercies of the Lord boundless? Is he not able and willing to do exceeding abundantly beyond all that we can ask or think? Did not even St. Paul say that he only knew in part and prophesied in part? And must it not be true of the whole Bible what the beloved apostle St. John says of his own Gospel, 'And there are many other things which Jesus did, the which if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written?' Bear that in mind, remembering always that the God of the Old Testament is the God of the New likewise; and whenever you read, either in the Old or New Testament, of the noble acts of the Lord, say boldly, as millions of hearts have said already, when the good news of the Bible came to them, 'This is so beautiful that it must be true. The Spirit of God in the Bible, and the judgment of the Church in all ages, bears witness with my spirit that this is true. So ought God to have done, and therefore surely so hath God done. Shall not the Judge of all the earth do RIGHT?' Footnotes: {0a} Evidences, Part III. Cap. iii. {0b} Lectures on the Jewish Church, Lect. xviii. p. 401. {7} I must say that all attempts to put a later date on these books seems to me to fail simply from want of evidence. I must say, also, that all attempts to distinguish between 'Jehovistic' and 'Elohistic' documents (with the exception, perhaps, of the first chapter of Genesis) seem to me to fail likewise; and that the theory of an Elohistic and a Jehovistic sect has received its reductionem ad absurdum in a certain recent criticism of the Psalms. 
11381	----	Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk SERMONS FOR THE TIMES Contents: Fathers and Children Salvation A Good Conscience Names Sponsorship Justification by Faith Duty and Superstition Sonship The Lord's Prayer The Doxology Ahab and Naboth The Light of God Providence England's Strength The Life of God God's Offspring Death in Life Shame Forgiveness The True Gentleman Toleration Public Spirit SERMON I. 'FATHERS AND CHILDREN' Malachi iv. 5, 6. Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord: And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse. These words are especially solemn words. They stand in an especially solemn and important part of the Bible. They are the last words of the Old Testament. I cannot but think that it was God's will that they should stand where they are, and nowhere else. Malachi, the prophet who wrote them, did not know perhaps that he was the last of the Old Testament prophets. He did not know that no prophet would arise among the Jews for 400 years, till the time when John the Baptist came preaching repentance. But God knew. And by God's ordinance these words stand at the end of the Old Testament, to make us understand the beginning of the New Testament. For the Old Testament ends by saying that God would send to the Jews Elijah the prophet. And the New Testament begins by telling us of John the Baptist's coming as a prophet, in the spirit and power of Elias; and how the Lord Jesus himself declared plainly that John the Baptist was Elijah who was to come; that is, the Elijah of whom Malachi prophesies in my text. Therefore, we may be certain that this text tells us what John the Baptist's work was; that John the Baptist came to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the hearts of the children to the fathers; lest the Lord should come and smite the land with a curse. Some may be ready to answer to this, 'Of course John the Baptist came to warn parents of behaving wrongly to their children, if they were careless or cruel; and children to their parents, if they were disobedient or ungrateful. Of course he would tell bad parents and children to repent, just as he came to tell all other kinds of sinners to repent. But that was only a part of John the Baptist's work. He came to be the forerunner of the Messiah, the Saviour, the Redeemer.' Be it so, my friends. I only hope that you really do believe that John the Baptist did come to proclaim that a Saviour was born into the world--provided only that you remember all the while who that Saviour was. John the Baptist tells you who He was. If you will only remember that, and get the thought of it into your hearts, you will not be inclined to put any words of your own in place of the prophet Malachi's, or to fancy that you can describe better than Malachi what John the Baptist's work was to be; and that turning the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the hearts of the children to the fathers, was only a small part of John the Baptist's work, instead of being, as Malachi says it was, his principal work, his very work, the work which must be done, lest the Lord, instead of saving the land, should come and smite it with a curse. Yes--you must remember who it was that John the Baptist came to bear record of, and to manifest or show to the Jews. The Angels on the first Christmas Eve told us--they said it was _The Lord_, 'Unto you,' they said, 'is born a Saviour, who is Christ, _The Lord_.' John the Baptist told you and all mankind who it was--that it was The Lord. 'The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of _the Lord_!' _The Lord_. What Lord--Which Lord? John the Baptist knew. Simeon, Anna, Nathaniel, all righteous and faithful hearts who waited for the salvation of the Lord, knew. The Pharisees and Sadducees did not know. The men who wrote our Creeds, our Prayer Book, our Church Catechism, knew. The Pharisees and the Sadducees in our day, who fancy themselves wiser than the Creeds, and the Prayer Book, and the Church Catechism, do not know. May God grant that we may all know, not only with our lips, but with our hearts, our faith, our love, our lives, who The Lord is. Jesus Christ, the babe of Bethlehem, is The Lord. But who is He? The Bible tells us; when we have heard what the Bible tells us we shall be able better to understand the text. The Lord is He of whom it is written, 'And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.' And who is God's image and God's likeness? The New Testament tells us--Jesus Christ. In Him man was made. He is the Son of Man, who is in heaven--the true perfect pattern of man: but He is also the image and likeness of God, the brightness of His Father's glory, and the express image of His person. He is The Lord. He is the Lord who instituted marriage, and said, 'It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help-meet for him.' He is the Lord who said to man, 'Be fruitful and multiply: fill the earth and subdue it.' He is the Lord who said to the first murderer, 'Thy brother's blood crieth against thee from the ground.' He is the Lord who talked with Abraham face to face as a man talks with his friend; who blest him by giving him a son in his old age, that he might be the father of many nations. He is the Lord who, on Mount Sinai, gave those Ten Commandments, the foundation of all law and right order between man and God, between man and man:--'Thou shalt honour thy father and thy mother. Thou shalt do no murder. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not bear false witness in courts of law or elsewhere. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's property.' This is The Lord. Not a God far away from men; who does not feel for them, nor feel with them; not a God who despises men, or has an ill-will to men, and must be won over to change his mind, and have mercy on them, by many supplications and tears, and fear and trembling, and superstitious ceremonies. But this is The Lord, this is the babe of Bethlehem, this is He whose way John the Baptist came to prepare--even He of whom it is written, that He possessed wisdom, the simple, practical human wisdom, useful for this everyday earthly life of ours, which Solomon sets forth in his Proverbs, in the beginning before His works of old; and that when He appointed the foundations of the earth, that Wisdom was by Him, as one brought up with Him, and she was daily His delight; rejoicing alway before Him; rejoicing in the _habitable_ parts of the earth; and her delights were _with the sons of men_. In one word, He is the Lord, in whose likeness man is made. Man's justice is a pattern of His; man's love is a pattern of His; man's industry a pattern of His; man's Sabbath-rest, in some unspeakable and eternal way, a pattern of His. Man's family ties are patterns of His. God the Father is He, said St. Paul, from whom every fathership in heaven and earth is named, that we may be such fathers to our children as God is to us. God The Son is He who is not ashamed to call us brethren, and to declare to us the glorious news, that in Him we, too, are the sons of God, that we may be such sons to our heavenly Father--ay, and to our earthly fathers also, as the Lord Jesus was to His Father. Yes--and even more wonderful still, and more blessed still, the Lord is not ashamed to call himself a husband. Our human wedlock and married love is a pattern of some divine mystery. 'Husbands love your wives, as Christ also loved the Church, and gave Himself for it, that He might present it to Himself a glorious Church, not having spot or wrinkle, but that it should be holy and without blemish.' Blessed words, which we cannot pretend to explain or understand, but can only believe and adore, and find, as we shall find, in proportion as we are loving and faithful in wedlock, that God's Spirit bears witness with our spirit, that they are reasonable, blessed, true; true for ever. This, then, was the Lord who was coming to judge these Jews; not merely a god, but _The_ God. The Lord, in whose likeness man was made; who had appointed men to be fathers, sons, husbands, citizens of a nation, owners of property, subject to laws, and yet _makers_ of laws; because all these things, in some wonderful way, are parts of His likeness. He was coming to this nation of the Jews first, and then to all the nations of the earth, to judge them, Malachi said, with a great and terrible day. To lay the axe to the root of the tree; to cut down from the very root the evil principles which were working in society. His fan was in His hand; and He would thoroughly purge His floor; and gather His wheat into the garner, for the use of future generations: but the chaff, all that was empty, light, and useless, He would burn up and destroy utterly out of the way, with unquenchable fire. He would inquire of every man, How have you kept my image; my likeness, in which I made you? What sort of husbands, fathers, sons, neighbours, subjects, and governors, have you been? And above all, Malachi says, the root question of all would be, what sort of fathers have you been to your children? What sort of children to your fathers? Does that seem to you a small question, my friends? Would you have rather expected to hear John the Baptist ask, what sort of saints they had been? What sort of doctrines they were professing? A small question? Look at these two little words, Father and Son. Father and Son! Are they not the most deep and awful, as well as the most blessed and hopeful words on earth? Do they not tell us the very mystery of God's being? Are they not the very name of God, God The Father and God The Son, knit together by one Holy Spirit of Love to each other and to all, who proceeds alike from The Father and from The Son? And then, will you think it a light matter to ask fallen creatures made in the likeness of that perfect Father and that perfect Son, what sort of fathers and sons they have been? God help us all, and give us grace to ask ourselves that question morning and night, before the great and terrible day of the Lord come, lest He come and smite this land with a curse. I have been led to think deeply and to speak openly upon this solemn matter, my friends, by seeing, as who can help seeing, the great division and estrangement between the old and the young which is growing up in our days. I do not, alas! I cannot, deny the complaints which old people commonly make. Old people complain that young people are grown too independent, disobedient, saucy, and what not. It is too true, frightfully, miserably true, that there is not the same reverence for parents as there was a generation back;--that the children break loose from their parents, spend their parents' money, choose their own road in life, their own politics, their own religion, alas! too often, for themselves;--that young people now presume to do and say a hundred things which they would not have dreamed in old times. And they are ready enough to cry out that all this is a sign of the last days, of which, they say, St. Paul speaks in 2 Tim. iii. 4--when men 'shall be disobedient to parents, unthankful, boasters, heady, high-minded, despisers of those who are good, lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God.' My friends, my friends, it is far better for us who have children, instead of prying into the times and seasons which God has kept in His own hand, to read our Bibles faithfully, and when we quote a text, quote the whole of it, and not just those bits of it which help us to throw blame on other people. What St. Paul really says, is that 'in the last days evil times will come;' just as they had come, he shows, when he wrote; and what he means I will try and show you presently. And, moreover, remember that Malachi says, that the hearts of the parents in Judea needed turning to their children, as well as the hearts of the children to their parents. Take care lest it be not so in England now. Remember that St. Paul, in that same solemn passage, gives other marks of 'last days,' which have to do with parents as well as with children, and some which can only have to do with parents--for they are the sins of grown-up and elderly people, and not of young ones. He says, that in those days men shall also be 'covetous, proud, without natural affection, breakers of their word, blasphemers; having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.' Will none of these hard words hit some grown people in our day? Will not they fill some of us with dread, lest the parents now-a-days should be as much in fault as the children of whom they complain; lest the parents' sins should be but too often the cause of the children's sins? Read through St. Paul's sad list of sins, and see how every young man's sin in it has some old man's sin corresponding to it. St. Paul does not part his list, and I dare not, and cannot. St. Paul mixes the parents' and the children's sins together in his words, and I fear that we do the same in our actions. Oh! beware, beware, you who complain of the behaviour of children now-a-days, lest your children have as much cause to complain of you. Are your children selfish, lovers of themselves?--See that you have not set them the example by your own covetousness or laziness. Are they boastful?--See that your pride has not taught them. Incontinent and profligate?--See that your own fierceness has not taught them. If they see you unable to master your own temper, they will not care to try to master their appetites. Are they disobedient and unthankful?--See, well, then that your want of natural affection to them, your neglect, and harshness, and want of feeling and tenderness, has not made the balance of unkindness fearfully even between you. Are your children disobedient to you?-- See that you have not taught them to be so, by breaking your word to them, by letting them see you deceitful to others, till they have lost all trust in you, all reverence for you. Above all, are your children lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God?--Oh! beware, beware, lest you have made them so,--lest you have been blasphemers against God, even when you have been fancying that you talked religion. Beware lest you have been teaching them dark, cruel, superstitious thoughts about God,--making them look up to Him not as their heavenly Father, but as a stern taskmaster whom they must obey, not from gratitude, but from fear of hell, and so have made God look so unlovely in their eyes that 'there is no beauty in Him that they should desire Him.' Can you wonder at their loving pleasure rather than loving God, when you show them nothing in God's character to love, but everything to dread and shrink from? And last of all, are your children despisers of those who are good, inclined to laugh at religion, to suspect and sneer at pious people, and call them hypocrites? Oh! beware, beware, lest your lip- religion, your dead faith, your inconsistent practice, has not been the cause of it. If you, as St. Paul says, have a form of godliness, and yet in your life and actions deny the power of it, by living without God in the world, and following the lowest maxims of the world in everything but what you call the salvation of your souls, what wonder if your children grow up despisers of those who are good? If they see you preaching one thing, and practising another, they will learn to fancy that all godly people do the same. If they see your religion a sham, they will learn to fancy all religion false also. Oh! woe, woe, most terrible, to those who thus harden their own children's hearts, and destroy in them, as too many do, all faith in God and man, all hope, all charity! Woe to them! for the Lord Himself, who came to lay the axe to the root of the tree, said of such, 'If any man cause one of these little ones to offend, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depths of the sea.' So it is too often now-a-days, and so it will be, until people condescend to learn over again that simple old Church Catechism which they were taught when they were little, and to teach it to their children, not only with their lips but in their lives. 'The Church Catechism!' some here will say to themselves with a smile, 'that is but a paltry medicine for so great a disease--a pitiful ending, forsooth, to such a severe sermon as this, to recommend just the Church Catechism!' Let those laugh who will, my friends. If you think you can bring up your children to be blessings to you,--if you think you can live so as to be blessings to your children, without the Church Catechism, you can but try. I think that you will fail. More and more, year by year, I find that those who try do fail. More and more, year by year, I find that even religious people's education of their children fails, and that pious men's sons now-a-days are becoming more and more apt to be scandals to their parents and to religion. If any choose to say that the reason is, that the pious men's sons were not of the number of the elect, though their fathers were, I can only answer, that God is no respecter of persons, and that they say that He is; that God is not the author of the evil, and that they say that He is. If a child of mine turns out ill, I am bound to lay the fault first on myself, and certainly never on God,--and so is every man, unless the inspired Scripture is wrong where it says, 'Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.' And the fault _is_ in ourselves. Very few people really teach their children now-a-days the Church Catechism; very few really believe the Church Catechism; very few really believe that God is such an one as the Church Catechism declares to us; very few believe in the Lord, in whose image and likeness man is made, whose way John the Baptist prepared by turning the hearts of the fathers to the children. They put, perhaps, religious books into their children's hands, and talk to them a great deal about their souls: but they do not tell their children what the Church Catechism tells them, because they do not believe what the Church Catechism tells them. What that is; what the Church Catechism does tell us, which the favourite religious books now-a-days do not tell us; and what that has to do with turning the hearts of the fathers to the children, I must tell you hereafter. God grant that my words may sink into all hearts, as far as they are right and true; if sooner or later we are not all brought to understand the meaning of those two simple words, Father and Son, neither Baptism, nor Confirmation, nor Schools, nor this Church, nor the very body and blood of Him who died for us, to share which you are all called this day, will be of avail for the well-being of this parish, or of this country, or any other country upon earth. For where the root is corrupt, the fruit will be also; and where family life and family ties, which are the root and foundation of society, are out of joint, there the Nation and the Church will decay also; as it is written, 'If the foundations be cast down, what can the righteous do?' And whensoever, in any family, or nation and church, the root of the tree (which is the conduct of parents to children, and of children to parents) grows corrupt and rotten, then 'last days,' as St. Paul calls them, are indeed come to it, and evil times therewith; for the Lord will surely lay the axe to the root of it, and cut it down and cast it into the fire: neither will the days of that family, or that people, or that Church, be long in the land which the Lord their God has given them. So it has been as yet, in all ages and in all countries on the face of God's earth, and so it will be until the end. Wheresoever the hearts of the fathers are not turned to the children, and the hearts of the children to the fathers, there will a great and terrible day of the Lord come; and that nation, like Judaea of old, like many a fair country in Europe at this moment, will be smitten with a curse. SERMON II. SALVATION John xvii. 3. This is life eternal, that they may know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent. Before I can explain what this text has to do with the Church Catechism, I must say to you a little about what it means. Now if I asked any of you what 'salvation' was, you would probably answer, 'Eternal life.' And you would answer rightly. That is exactly what salvation is, and neither more nor less. No more than that; for nothing greater than that can belong to any created being. No less than that; for God's love and mercy are eternal and without bound. But what is eternal life? Some will answer, 'Going to heaven when we die.' But what before you die? You do not know? cannot tell? Let us listen to what God Himself says. Let us listen to what the Lord Jesus Christ, the Word of God, says. Let us listen to what He who spake as man never spake, says. Surely His words must be the clearest, the simplest, the most exact, the deepest, the widest; the exactly fit and true words, the complete words, the perfect words, which cannot be improved on by adding to them or taking away one jot or tittle. What did the Lord Jesus Christ say that eternal life was? 'This is eternal life, that they may know Thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent.' To know God and Jesus Christ; that is eternal life. That is all the eternal life which any of us will ever have, my friends. Unless our Lord's words are not complete and perfect, and do not tell us the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, about eternal life, that is all the eternal life any one will ever have; and we must make up our minds to be content therewith. To which some will answer, almost angrily, 'Of course. The way to obtain eternal life is to know God and Jesus Christ; for if we do not, we cannot obtain it.' What words are these, my friends? what rash words are these, which men thrust into Scripture out of their own carnal conceits, as if they could improve upon the speech of the Son of Man Himself? He says, not that to know God is the way to eternal life: but rather that eternal life is the way to know God. He does not say, This is to know God and Jesus Christ, _in order that_ they may have eternal life. Whatever He says, He does not say that. Nay, more, if we are to be very exact (and can we be too exact?) with the Lord's words, He says, that 'This is eternal life, _in order that_ they may know God and Jesus Christ.' Not that we are to know God that we may obtain eternal life, but that we must have eternal life in order that we may know God; that eternal life is the means, and the knowledge of God the end and purpose for which eternal life is given us. However this may be, at least He says what the noble collect which we repeat every Sunday says, 'That our eternal life stands in the knowledge of God,' depends on it, and will fall without it. 'That we may know God.' Not merely that we may know doctrines about salvation, and the ways of winning God's favour, and turning away His vengeance; not merely to know what God has done ages ago, or may do ages hence, for us: but to know God Himself; to know His person, His likeness, His character; and what He is, and what He does, now and always; to know His righteousness, His goodness, His truth, His love, His mercy, His strength, His willingness and mightiness to save; in a word, what the Bible calls His glory; and therefore to admire and delight in Him utterly. That is what our eternal life stands in; that is why God has given to us eternal life in His Son, that we may know that. Oh, believe your Saviour simply, like little children, and enter into the joy of your Lord. Acquaint yourselves with God, and be at peace. To know God; and also to know Jesus Christ whom He has sent. For St. John, when he tells us that God has already given to us eternal life, says also, that this life is in His Son. To know the Son of God, in whom the Father is well pleased, because He is His perfect Son; His exact likeness, the likeness of that glory of His, and the express image of that person and character of His, which I described to you just now; One whose life was and is and ever will be eternally all love, and mercy, and self-sacrifice, and labour, for lost and sinful men; all trust and obedience to His Father. To know Him and His life, and to come to Him, and receive from Him an eternal life, which this world did not give us, and cannot take away from us; which neither man, devil, nor angel, nor the death of our bodies, the ruin of empires, the destruction of the whole universe, and of time, and space, and all things whereof man can conceive or dream, can alter in the slightest, because it is a life of goodness, and righteousness, and love, which are eternal as the God from whom they spring; eternal as Christ, who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever; and nothing but our own sinful wills can rob us of them. This is eternal life, and therefore this is salvation. A very different account of it (though it is the Bible account) from that narrow and paltry one which too many have in their minds now-a-days; a narrow and paltry notion that it means only being saved from the punishment of our sins after we die; and a very unbelieving, and godless, and atheistical notion too; which, like all unbelief hurts and spoils men's lives. For too many say to themselves, 'God must save me after I am dead, of course, for no one else can: but as long as I am alive I must save myself. God must save me from hell; but I must save myself from poverty, from trouble, from what the world may say of me or do to me, if I offend it.' And so salvation seems to have to do altogether with the next life, and not at all with this; and people lose entirely the belief that God is our deliverer, our protector, our guide, our friend, now, here, in this life; and do not really think that they can get on better in this world by knowing God and Jesus Christ; and so they set to work to help themselves by cunning, by covetousness, by cowardly truckling to the wicked ways of the very world which they renounced at baptism, by following after a multitude to do evil, and standing by, saying, 'I saw it not,' when they see wrong and cruelty done upon the earth; afraid to fight God's battles like men of God, because they say it is 'dangerous.' And so, in these evil days, thousands who call themselves Christians live on, worldly and selfish, _without God in the world_; while they talk busily enough of 'preparing to meet God,' in the world to come; dreaming, poor souls, of arriving at what they call 'salvation' after they die, while they are too often, I fear, deep enough in what the Scripture calls 'damnation,' before they die. 'But,' say some, 'is not salvation going to a place called heaven?' My friends, let the Bible speak. It tells us that salvation is not in a place at all, but in a person, a living, moving, acting person, who is none other than the Lord Jesus Christ. Let the Psalmists speak, and shame us, who ought to know (being Christians) even better than they, that The Lord Himself is Salvation. The whole Book of Psalms, what is it but the blessed discovery that salvation is not merely in a place, or a state, not even in some 'beatific vision' after men die; but in the Lord Himself all day long in this world; that salvation is a life in God and with God? 'The Lord is my light, and my salvation, of whom then shall I be afraid? The Lord is the strength of my life, and my portion for ever.' This is their key-note. Shame on us Christians, that we should have forgotten it for one so much lower. 'The name of the Lord,' says Solomon, 'is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe.' Into it: not merely into some pleasant place after he dies, but all day long; and is safe: not merely after he dies, but in every chance and change of this mortal life. My friends, I am ashamed to have to put Christian men in mind of these things. Truly, 'Evil communications have corrupted good manners; awake to righteousness and sin not, for some have not the knowledge of God.' I am ashamed, I say; for there are old hymns in the mouths of every one to this day, which testify against their want of faith; which say, 'Christ is my life,' 'Christ is my salvation;' and which were written, I doubt not, by men who meant literally what they said, whatever those who sing them now-a-days may mean by them. Now what do those hymns mean by such words, if they mean anything at all? Surely what I have been preaching to you, and what seems to some of you, I fear, strange and new doctrine. And what else does the Church Catechism mean, when it bids every child thank God for having brought him into a state of salvation? For mind, throughout the whole Church Catechism there is not one word about what people commonly call heaven and hell; not one word though 'heaven and hell' are now-a-days generally the first things about which children are taught. Not one word is the child taught about what will happen to him after death, except that his body will rise again, and that Christ will be his Judge after he is dead as well as while he is alive: but not one word about that salvation after he is dead, which is almost the only thing of which one hears in many pulpits. And why, but because the Catechism teaches the child to believe that Jesus Christ is his salvation now, in this life, and believes that to be enough for him to know? For if Christ be eternal, His salvation must be eternal also. If Christ's life be in the child, eternal life must be in the child; for Christ's life must be eternal, even as Christ Himself; and that is enough for the child, and for us also. And with this agrees that great text of Scripture, 'When the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive.' People now-a-days are apt to make two mistakes about that one text. First they forget the 'when,' and read it as if it stood, 'If the wicked man turn away from his wickedness in this life, he shall save his soul in the next life:' but the Bible says much more than that. It says, that when he turns, then and there, that moment he shall save his soul alive. And next, they read the text as if it stood, 'he shall save his soul.' Here again, my friends, the Bible says a great deal more; it says, that he shall save his soul alive. Perhaps that does not seem to you any great difference? Alas, alas, my friends, I fear that there are too many now, as there have been in all times, who do not care for the difference. Provided 'their souls are saved,' by which they mean, provided they escape torment after they die, it matters nothing to them whether their souls are saved alive, or saved dead; they do not even know the difference between a dead soul and a live soul; because they know nothing about eternal death and eternal life, which are the death and the life of eternal persons such as souls are; they say to themselves, if they be Protestants, 'I hope I shall have faith enough to be saved;' or if they be Papists, 'I hope I shall have good works enough to be saved;' valuing faith and works not for themselves; yea, valuing--for I must say it--Almighty God Himself, not for Himself and His own glory, but valuing faith and works, and the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, only because, as they dream, they are so many helps to a life of pleasure beyond the grave; not knowing this, that living faith and good works do not merely lead to heaven, but are heaven itself, that true, real eternal heaven wherein alone men really live; that true, real eternal life which was with the Father, and was manifested in Jesus Christ, whom St. John saw living upon earth that same Eternal Life, and bore witness of Him that His life was the light of men; that eternal life whereof it is written, that God hath brought us to life together with Christ, and raised us up, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus:--not knowing this, that the only life which any soul ought to live, is the life of God and of Christ, and of the Spirit of God and Christ; a life of righteousness, and justice, and truth, and obedience, and mercy, and love; a life which God has given to us, that we may know and copy Him, and do His works, and live His life, for ever:--not knowing this also that eternal death is not merely some torture of fire and worms beyond the grave: but that this is eternal death, not to live the eternal life which is the only possible life for souls, the life of righteousness and love; a death which may come on respectable people, and high religious professors, while they are fancying themselves sure to be saved, as easily and surely as it may on thieves and harlots, wallowing in the mire of sins. For what is this same eternal death? The opposite surely to eternal life. Eternal life is to know God, and therefore to obey Him. Eternal life is to know God, whose name is love; and therefore, to rejoice to fulfil His law, of which it is written, 'Love is the fulfilling of the law;' and therefore to be full of love ourselves, as it is written, 'We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren;' and again, 'Every one that loveth, knoweth God, for God is love.' And on the other hand, eternal death is not to know God, and therefore not to care for His law of love, and therefore to be without love; as it is written on the other hand, 'He that loveth not his brother abideth in death.' 'Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer;' and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him; and again, 'He that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is love.' Eternal death, then, is to love no one; to be shut up in the dark prison-house of our own wilful and wayward thoughts and passions, full of spite, suspicion, envy, fear; in fact, in one word, to be a devil. Oh, my friends, is not that damnation indeed, to be a devil here on earth, and for aught we know, for ever and ever? Do you not know what frame of mind I mean? Thank God, none of us, I suppose, is ever utterly without some grain of love left for some one; none of us, I suppose, is ever utterly shut up in himself; and as long as there is love there is life and as long as there is life there is hope: but yet there have been moments when one has felt with horror how near, and how terrible, and how easy was this same eternal death which some fancy only possible after they die. For, my friends, were you ever, any one of you, for one half hour, completely angry, completely _sulky_? displeased and disgusted with everybody and everything round you, and yet displeased and disgusted with yourself all the while; liking to think everyone wrong, liking to make out that they were unjust to you; feeling quite proud at the notion that you were an injured person: and yet feeling in your heart the very opposite of all these fancies: feeling that you were wrong, that you were unjust to them, and feeling utterly ashamed at the thought that they were the injured persons, and that you had injured them. And perhaps, to make all worse, the person about whom all this storm had arisen in your heart, was some dear friend or relation whom you loved (strange contradiction, yet most true) at the very moment that you were trying to hate. Oh, my friends, if one such dark hour has ever come home to you; if you have ever let the sun go down upon your wrath, and so given place to the devil, then you know something at least of what eternal death is. You know how, in such moments, there is a worm in the heart, and a fire in the heart, compared with which all bodily torment would be light and bearable; a worm in the heart which does not die: and a fire in the heart which you cannot quench: but which if they remained there would surely destroy you. So intolerable are they, that you feel that you will actually and really die, in some strange unspeakable way, if you continue in that temper long. Do not there open at such times within our hearts black depths of evil, a power of becoming wicked, a chance of being swept off into sin if one gives way, which one never suspected till then; and yet with all these, the most dreadful sense of helplessness, of slavery, of despair?--God grant that may not remain, for then comes the mad hope to escape death by death, to try by one desperate stroke to rid oneself of that self which is for the time one's torment, worm, fire, death, and hell. And what is this dark fight within us? What does the Bible call it? It is death and life, eternal death and eternal life, salvation and damnation, hell and heaven, fighting together within our hapless hearts, to see which shall be our masters. It is the battle of the evil spirit, who is the Devil, fighting with the good spirit, who is God. Nothing less than that, my friends. Yes, in those hateful and shameful moments of pride, or spite, or contempt, or self-will, or suspicion, or sneering, on which when they are past we look back with shame and horror, and wonder how we could have been such wretches even for a moment,--at such times, I say, our heart is a battle-field, on which no less than the Devil himself, and God Himself are fighting for our souls. On one side, Satan trying to bring us into that state of eternal death in which he lives himself; Satan, the loveless one, the self-willed one, the accuser, the slanderer, slandering God to us, slandering man to us, slandering to us the friends we love best and trust most utterly; yea, slandering our own selves to us, trying to make us believe that we are as bad, ought to be as bad, and must always be as bad as we seem for the time to be; that we cannot shake off our evil passions, that we cannot rise again out of the eternal death of sin into the eternal life of righteousness. And on the other side, the Spirit of God and of His Christ, the Spirit of eternal life, the Spirit of justice, and righteousness, love, joy, peace, duty, self-sacrifice, trying to make us know Him and see His beauty, and obey Him, and be at peace; trying to raise us again into that eternal life and state of salvation which the Lord Jesus Christ has bought for us with His most precious blood. Oh, awful thought! Life and death, the Devil himself, and the Lord Jesus Christ Himself, fighting in your heart and in mine, and in the heart of every human being round us! And yet most blessed thought, hopeful, glorious,--full of the promise of eternal victory! For greater is He that is with us, than he that is against us; and He who conquered Satan for Himself, can and will conquer him for us also. No thing can separate us from the love of Christ; no thing, yea no angel, or devil, principality, or power; no thing, but only ourselves, only our own proud and wayward will and determination to the Devil's voice in our hearts, and not the voice of Christ, the Word of Life, who is nigh us, in our hearts, even in our darkest moments, loving us still, pitying us, ready, able and willing to help all who cast themselves on Him, and raise us, there and then, the very moment we cry to Him and renounce the Devil and our own foolish will, out of self-will into God's will, out of darkness into light, out of hatred into love, out of despair into hope, out of doubt into faith, out of tempest into peace, out of the death of sin into the life of righteousness, the life of love and charity, which abideth for ever. Oh, listen not to the lying, slanderous Devil, who tells you that by your own sin you have lost your share in Christ, lost baptismal grace, lost Christ's love--Lost His love? His, who, were you in the very lowest depths of hell, would pity you still? His love, who Himself went down into hell, and preached to the spirits in prison, to show that he did care even for them? Not so: into Him you have been baptized. His cross is on your foreheads, His Father is your Father:--and can a father desert his child, even though he sinned seventy and seven times, if seventy and seven times he turn and repent? Can man weary God? Can the creature conquer and destroy the love of his Creator? Can Christ deny Himself? Not so; whosoever thou art, however sorely tempted, however deeply fallen, however disgusted and terrified at thyself, turn only to that blessed face which wept over Jerusalem, to that great heart which bled for thee upon the cross, and thou shalt find him unchanged, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever, the Lord of life and love, able and willing to save to the uttermost all who come to God through Him, and the accusing Devil shall turn and flee, and thou shalt know that thy Redeemer liveth still, and in thy flesh thou shalt see the salvation of God, and cry, 'Rejoice not against me, Satan, mine enemy; for when I fall I shall arise.' SERMON III. A GOOD CONSCIENCE 1 Peter iii. 21. The like figure whereunto baptism doth now save us (not the putting away the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good conscience toward God,) by the resurrection of Jesus Christ. These words are very wide words; too wide to please most people. They preach a very free grace; too free to please most people. Such free and full grace, indeed, that some who talk most about free grace, and insist most on man's being saved only by free grace, are the very men who shrink from these words most, and would be more comfortable in their minds, I suspect, if they were not in the Bible at all, because the grace they preach is too free. But so it always has been, and so it is, and so, I suppose, it always will be. Man preaches his notions of God's forgiveness, his notions of what he thinks God ought to do; but when God proclaims His own forgiveness, and tells men what He has actually done, and bids His apostle declare boldly that baptism doth now save us, then man is frightened at the vastness of God's generosity, and thinks God's grace too free, His forgiveness too complete; and considers this text and many another in the Bible as 'dangerous' forsooth, if it is 'preached unreservedly,' and not to be quoted without some words of man's invention tacked to it, to water it down, and narrow it, and take all the strength and life out of it; and if he be asked whether he believes the words of Scripture,--for instance, whether St. Paul spoke truth when he told the heathen Athenians that they and all men were the offspring of God;--or when he told the Romans that as by the offence of one, judgment came on all men to condemnation, even so by the righteousness of One, the free gift came upon all men to justification of life;--or when he told the Corinthians, that as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive;--or whether St. Peter spoke truth when he said, that 'baptism doth also now save us,'--then they answer, that the words are true 'in a sense;' that is, not in their plain sense; true, if they were only true; true, and yet somehow at the same time not true; and not to be preached 'unreservedly:' as if man could be more cautious and correct in his language than the Spirit of God, who inspired the Apostles; as if man could be more careful of God's honour than God is of His own; as if man could hate sin and guard against sin more carefully than God Himself. Just in the same way do people stumble at certain invaluable words in the Church Catechism, which teach children to thank God for having brought them into that state of salvation. Even very good people, and people who really wish to believe and honour the Church Catechism, and the Sacrament of Baptism, find these words too strong to please them, and say, that of course a child's being in a state of salvation cannot mean that he is saved, but that he may be saved after he dies. My friends, I never could find that we have a right to take liberties with the Bible and the Prayer Book which we dare not take with any other book, and to put meanings into the words of them which, in the case of any other book, would be contrary to plain grammar and the English tongue, if not to common sense and honesty. If you say of a man, 'he is in a state of happiness,' you mean, do you not, that he is happy now, not that he may perhaps be happy some day? If you came to me and told me that you were in a state of hunger, you would think it a very strange answer to receive if I say, 'Very well then, if you become hungry, come to me, and I will feed you?' You all know that a man's being in a state of poverty, or of misery, means that he is poor or miserable now, here, at this very time; that if a man is in a state of sickness, he is sick; if he is in a state of health, he is healthy. Then what can a man's being in a state of salvation mean, by all rules of English, but that he is saved? If I were to say to any one of the good people who do not think so, 'My friend, you are in a state of damnation,' he would answer me quickly enough, 'I am not, for I am not damned.' He would agree that a man's being in a state of damnation means that the man is damned; why will he not agree that a man's being in a state of salvation means that he is saved? Because, my friends, God's grace is too full for fallen man's notions; and therefore there is an evil fashion abroad in the world, that where a text speaks of wrath, and misery and punishment, you are to interpret it exactly, and to the very letter: but where it speaks of love, and mercy, and forgiveness, you are to do no such thing, but narrow it, and fence it, and explain it away, for fear you should make sinners too comfortable,--a plan which seems wise enough, but which, like other plans of man's wisdom, has not succeeded too well, to judge by the number of sinners who are already too comfortable though they hear the Bible misused, and God's grace narrowed in this way every Sunday of their lives. But, my friends, we call ourselves Englishmen and churchmen; let us be honest Englishmen and plain churchmen, and take our Catechism as it stands. For rightly or wrongly, truly or falsely, it does teach every christened child to thank God, not merely that it has some chance of being saved, when it dies, but that it is saved already, now, here on earth. Whether that is true or false is another question. I believe it to be true. I believe the text to be true; I believe that why people shrink from it is, that they have got into their minds a wrong, unscriptural, superstitious notion of what being saved, and saving one's soul alive, and salvation mean. And I beg all of you who read your Bibles to search the Scriptures from beginning to end, and try to find out what these words mean, and whether the Catechism has not kept close, after all, to the words of Scripture. It will be better for you, my friends; it will be worth your while, to know exactly what being saved means; for to judge by the signs of the times, there are, very probably, days coming in which it will be as needful for you and for your children to save your souls alive lest you die, as ever it was for the Jews in Isaiah's or Jeremiah's time, or for the Romans in St. Paul's time; and that in that day you will find the Catechism wider, and deeper, and sounder than you have ever suspected it to be, and see, I trust, that in these very words it preaches to you, and me, and our children after us, the one true Gospel and good news, which will stand, and grow, and shine brighter and brighter for ever, when all the paltry, narrow, counterfeit gospels which man invents in its place have been burnt up by the unquenchable fire with which the merciful Lord purges the chaff from His floor. I told you this morning what I believe that salvation was,--to know God, and Jesus Christ, whom He has sent. To know God's likeness, God's character, what God has shown of His own character, what He has done for us. To know His boundless love, and mercy, and knowing that, to trust in Him utterly, and submit to Him utterly, and obey Him utterly, sure that He loves us, that His will to us is goodwill, that His commandments must be life. To know God, and therefore to love Him and to serve Him, that is salvation. Now what hinders a little child, from the very moment that it can think or speak, from entering into that salvation? Not the child's own heart. There is evil in the child--true. Is there none in you and me? There is a corrupt nature in the child--true. Is there not in you and me? Woe to us if we have not found it out: woe to us if we dare to think that we are in ourselves--or out of ourselves either--one whit better than our own children. What should hinder any child whom you or I ever saw from knowing God, and His Name, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit? Has he not an earthly father, through whom he may know _The_ Father? Is he not an earthly son; and through that may he not know _The_ Son? Has he not a conscience, a spirit in him which knows good from evil? holiness from wickedness--far more clearly and tenderly than the souls of most grown people do? and can he not, therefore, understand you when you speak of a Holy Spirit, a Spirit which puts good desires into his heart, and can enable him to bring those good desires into practice? I know one hindrance at least; and that is his parents' sins; when the parents' harshness or neglect tempts the child to fancy that God The Father is such a Father to him as his parents are, and that to be a child of God is to look up to his heavenly Father with dread and suspicion as to a hard taskmaster whose anger has to be turned away, and not with that perfect love, and trust, and respect, and self-sacrifice, with which the Lord Jesus Christ fulfilled His Father's will and proclaimed His Father's glory: or when the parents' unholiness and lip-religion teach the child to fancy that the Holy Spirit means only certain religious fancies and feelings, or the learning by heart of certain words and doctrines, or, worst of all, a spirit of bondage unto fear; instead of knowing Him to be, as He is, the Spirit of righteousness, and love, and joy, and peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, meekness, temperance: or when, again, parents by their own teaching, do despite to the Spirit of Grace in their own child, and destroy their child's good conscience toward God, by telling the child that it does not really love God, when it loves Him, perhaps, far better than they do; by telling the child that its sins have parted it from God, when its sins are light, yea, are as nothing in the balance compared to the sins they themselves commit every day, while they claim for themselves clearer light and knowledge than the child, and thereby condemn themselves rather than the child; when they darken and defile the pure and beautiful trust and admiration for its Heavenly Father, which God's Spirit puts into the child's heart, by telling it that it is doomed to I know-not-what horrible misery and torture when it dies; but that it can escape from that wretched end by thinking certain thoughts, and feeling certain feelings; and so (after stirring up in the child all manner of dreadful doubts of God's love and justice, and perhaps driving it away from religion altogether by making it believe that it has committed sins which it has not committed, and deserves horrible tortures which it has not deserved), do perhaps at last awaken in it a new love for God, but one which is not like that first love, that childlike love; one which, I fear, is hardly a love for God at all, but principally a selfish joy and delight at having escaped from coming torments. This is the reason, my friends; and this hindrance, at least, I know. I will not copy those parents, my friends, and tell them, as they tell their children, that they are bringing on themselves endless torture; but I must tell them, for the Lord Christ has told them, that they are bringing on themselves something--I know not what--of which it is written, that it were better for them that a millstone were hanged about their necks, and that they were drowned in the depth of the sea. Oh, my friends, if I speak sternly, almost bitterly, when I speak of parents' sins, it is because I speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. I plead for Christ's little ones: I plead for the souls and consciences of those little children of whom Christ said, 'Suffer the little children to come unto me;' not that they might become His, but because they were His already; not that they might win His love, but because He loved them from all eternity: not that they might enter into the kingdom of heaven, but, because they were in the kingdom of heaven already; because the kingdom of heaven was made up of such as them, and the angels who ministered unto them always beheld the face of our Father who is in heaven. Yes; I plead for those children, of whom the Lord said, 'Except ye be converted,' that is, utterly turned and changed, 'and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.' Deep and blessed words, which are the root-rule of all true righteousness; which so few really believe at heart, any more than the Pharisees, and Sadducees, and Herodians of old did. Up and down, all over England, I hear men of all denominations saying, not, 'Except we grown people be converted and become as little children;' but, 'except the little children be converted, and become like us, grown people.' God grant that the little children may not become like too many grown people! God grant it, I say. God grant that our children may not become like us! God grant that they may keep through youth and manhood, and through the grave, and through all worlds to come, the tender and childlike heart, which we too often have hardened in ourselves by bigotry and superstition, and dead faith, and lip-worship! And I can have good hope that God will grant it. I can have hope that God will teach our children and our children's children truly to know Him whose name is Love and Righteousness, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, as long as I see His providence preserving for us this old Church Catechism, to teach our children what we forget to teach them, or what we have not faith enough to teach them. Yes, I can have hope for England; and hope for those mighty nations across the seas, whose earthly mother God has ordained that she should be, as long as the Catechism is taught to her children. For see. This Catechism does not begin with telling children that they are sinners: they will find that out soon enough for themselves, poor little things, from their own wayward and self- willed hearts. Nor by telling them that man is fallen and corrupt: they will find out that also soon enough, from the way in which they see people go on around them. It does not even begin by telling them that they ought to be good, or what goodness and righteousness is; because it takes for granted that they know that already; it takes for granted that The Light who lights every man who comes into the world is in them; even the Lord Jesus Christ Himself, stirring up in their hearts, as He does in the heart of every child, the knowledge of good and the love of good. But it begins at once by teaching the child the name of God. It goes at once to the root of the matter; to the fountain of goodness itself; even to God, the Father of lights. It is so careful of God's honour, so careful that the child should learn from the first to look up to God with love and trust, that it dare not tell the child that God can destroy and punish, before it has told him that God is a Father and a Maker; the Father of spirits, who has made him and all the world. It dare not tell him that mankind is fallen, before it has told him that all the world is redeemed. It dare not talk to him of unholiness, before it has taught him that the Holy Spirit of God is with him, to make him holy. It tells him of a world, a flesh, and a devil: but he has renounced them. He has neither part nor lot in them; and he is not to think of them yet. He is to think of that in which he has part and lot, of which he is an inheritor. He is to know where he is and ought to be, before he knows where he is not and ought not to be: he is to think of the name of God, by which he can trample world, flesh, and devil under foot, if they dare hereafter meddle with his soul. In its God-inspired tenderness and prudence, it dare not darken the heart of one little child, or tempt him to hard thoughts of God, or to cry, 'Why hast thou made me thus?' lest it put a stumbling-block in the way of Christ's little ones, and dishonour the name and glory of God. It tells him of the love, before it tells him of the wrath; of the order, before it tells him of the disorder; of the right, before the wrong; of the health, before the disease; of the freedom, before the bondage; of the truth, before the lies; of the light, before the darkness; in one word, it tells him first of the eternal and good God, who was, and is, and shall be to all eternity, before and above the evil devil. It tells him of the name of God; and tells him that God is with him, and he with God, and bids him believe that, and be saved, from his birth-hour, to endless ages. It does not tell him to pray that he may become God's child; but to pray, because he is God's child already. It does not tell him to love God, in order that he may make God love him; but to love God because God loves him already, and has loved him from all eternity. It does not tell him to obey Jesus Christ, in order that Christ may save him; but to obey Christ because Christ has saved him, and bought him with his own blood. It does not tell him to do good works, in order that God's Spirit may be pleased with him, and come to him, and make him one of the elect; neither does it tell him, that some day or other, if he is converted, and feels certain religious experiences, he will have a right to consider himself one of God's elect: but it tells him to look man and devil in the face, he, the poor little ignorant village child, and say boldly in the name of God, 'I am one of God's elect. The Holy Spirit of God is sanctifying me, and making me holy. God has saved me; and I heartily thank my Heavenly Father, who has called me to this state of salvation.' It tells him to believe that he is safe-- safe in the ark of Christ's Church, as Noah was safe in the ark at the deluge; and that the one way to keep himself within that ark is to obey Him to whom it belongs, who judges it and will guide it for ever, Jesus Christ, the likeness of God; and that as long as he does that, neither world, flesh, nor devil, can harm him; even as Noah was safe in the ark, and nothing could drown him but his own wilful casting himself out of the ark, and trying to free the flood of waters by his own strength and cunning. It tells him, I say, that he is safe, and saved, even as David, and Isaiah, and all holy men who ever lived have been, as long as he trusts in God, and clings to God, and obeys God; and that only when he forsakes God, and follows his own selfishness and pride, can anything or being in earth or hell harm him. And do not fancy, my friends, that this is a mere unimportant question of words and doctrines, because a baptized and educated child may be lost after all, and fall from his state of salvation into a state of damnation. Still more, do not fancy that if a child is taught that he is already a child of God, regenerated in baptism, and elect by God's Spirit, that therefore he will neglect either vital faith or good works--heaven forbid! Is it likely to make a child careless, and inclined to neglect vital truth, to tell him that God is his Father and loves him utterly, and has given His only begotten Son to die for him? Is it not the very way, the only way, to stir up in him faith, and real hearty trust and affection towards God? How can you teach him to trust God, but by telling him that God has shown himself boundlessly and perfectly worthy to be trusted by every soul of man; or to love God, but by showing him that God loves him already? Is it likely to make a child careless of good works, to tell him that God has elected and chosen him, and all his brothers and schoolfellows, to be conformed into the likeness of Jesus Christ, and that every good, and honourable, and gentle thought or feeling which ever crosses his little heart, does not come from himself, is not part of his own nature or character, but is nothing less than the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, nothing less than the voice of Almighty God Himself, speaking to the child's heart, that he may answer with Samuel-- 'Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth?' Is it likely to make a child careless about losing eternal life, to tell him that God has already given to him eternal life, and that that life is in His Son Jesus Christ, to whom the child belongs, body, soul, and spirit? Judge for yourselves, my friends. Think what awe, what reverence, purity, dread of sin, would grow up in a child who was really taught all this, and yet what faith and love to God, what freedom, and joyfulness, and good courage about his own duty and calling in life. And then look at the fruits which in general follow a religious education, as it is miscalled; and take warning. For if you really train up your children in the way in which they should go, be sure that when they are old they will not depart from it--a promise which is not fulfilled to most religious education which we see around us now-a-days; from which sad fact, if Scripture be inspired and infallible, we can only judge that such is not the way in which the children should go; and that because it is a wrong way, therefore God will not, and man cannot, keep them in it. SERMON IV. NAMES Matthew i. 21. And thou shall call his name Jesus. Did it ever seem to you a curious thing that the Catechism begins by asking the child its name? 'What is your name?' 'Who gave you this name?' I think that if you were not all of you accustomed to the Church Catechism from your childhood, that would seem a strange way of beginning to teach a child about religion. But the more I consider, the more sure I am that it is the right way to begin teaching a child what the Catechism wishes to teach. Do not fancy that it begins by asking the child's name just because it must begin somehow, and then go on to religion afterwards. Do not fancy that it merely supposes that the clergyman does not know the child's name, and must ask it; for this Catechism is intended to be taught by parents to their children, and masters to their apprentices and servants; by people, therefore, who know the child's name perfectly well already, and yet they are to begin by asking the child his name. Now, why is this? What has a child's name to do with his Faith and duty as a Christian? You may answer, Because his Christian name is given him when he is baptized. But _why_ is his Christian name given him when he is baptized? Why then rather than at any other time? Because it is the old custom of the Church. No doubt it is: and a most wise and blessed custom it is; and one which shows us how much more about God and man the churchmen in old times knew, than most of our religious teachers now-a-days. But how did that old custom arise? What put into the minds of church people, for the last sixteen hundred years at least, that being baptized and being named had anything to do with each other? Men had names of their own long before the Lord Jesus came, long before His Baptism was heard of on earth;--the heathens of old had their names--the heathens have names still;--why, then, did church people feel it right to mix a new thing like baptism with a world-old thing like giving a name? My friends, I feel and say honestly, that there is more in this matter than I understand; and what little I do understand, I could not explain fully in one sermon, or in many either. But let this be enough for to-day. God grant that I may be able to make you understand me. Any one's having a name--a name of his own, a Christian name, as we rightly call it--signifies that he is a person; that is, that he has a character of his own, and a responsibility, and a calling and duty of his own, given him by God; in one word, that he has an immortal soul in him, for which he, and he alone, must answer, and receive the rewards of the deeds which it does in the body, whether they be good or evil. But names are not given at random, without cause or meaning. When Adam named all the beasts, we read that whatsoever he called any beast, that _was_ the name of it. The names which he gave _described_ each beast, were taken from something in its appearance, or its ways and habits, and so each was its right name, the name which expressed its nature. And so now, when learned men discover animals or plants in foreign countries, they do not give them names at random, but take care to invent names for them which may describe their natures, and make people understand what they are like, as Adam did for the beasts of old. And much more, in old times, had the names of men each of them a meaning. If it was reasonable to give names full of meaning to each kind of dumb animal, which are mere things, and not persons at all, how much more to each man separately, for each man is a person of himself; each man has a character different from all others, a calling different from all others, and therefore he ought to have his own name separate from all others: and therefore in old times it was the custom to give each child a separate name, which had a meaning in it, was, as it were, a description of the child, or of something particular about the child. Now, we may see this, above all, in The adorable Name of Jesus. That name, above all others, ought to show us what a name means; for it is the name of the Son of Man, the one perfect and sinless man, the pattern of all men; and therefore it must be a perfect name, and a pattern for all names; and it was given to the Lord not by man, but by God; not after He was born, but before He was conceived in the womb of the blessed Virgin. And therefore, it must show and mean not merely some outward accident about Him, something which He seemed to be, or looked like, in men's eyes: no, the Name of Jesus must mean what the Lord was in the sight of His Father in Heaven; what He was in the eternal purpose of God the Father; what He was, really and absolutely, in Himself; it must mean and declare the very substance of His being. And so, indeed, it does; for The adorable Name of Jesus means nothing else but God the Saviour--God who saves. This is His name, and was, and ever will be. This Name He fulfilled on earth, and proved it to be His character, His exact description, His very Name, in short, which made Him different from all other beings in heaven or earth, create or uncreate; and therefore, He bears His name to all eternity, for a mark of what He has been, and is, and will be for ever--God the Saviour; and this is the perfect name, the pattern of all other names of men. Now though the Christian names which we give our children here in England, have no especial meaning to them, and have nothing to do with what we expect or wish the children to be when they grow up, yet the names of people in most other countries in the world have. The Jewish names which we find in the Bible have almost all of them a meaning. So Simeon, I believe, means 'Obedient'; Jehoshaphat means, 'The Lord will judge'; Daniel, 'God is my judge'; Isaiah means, 'The Salvation of the Lord'; Isaac means, 'She laughs,' as a memorial of Sarah's laughing, when she heard that she was to have a child; Ishmael means, 'The Lord hears,' in remembrance of God's hearing Hagar's cry in the wilderness, when Ishmael was dying of thirst. Especially those names of which we read that God commanded them to be given, have meanings, and to tell the persons who bore those names what God expected of them, or would do for them. So Abraham means, 'The father of many nations.' So the children of both Isaiah and Hosea had names given them by God, each of them meaning something which God was going to do to the nation of the Jews. And so John means, 'Given by the Lord,' which name was given to John the Baptist by the Angel, before his strange birth, in his mother's old age. But we must remember that the heathens also gave names to their children, though they did not know that their children owed any duty to God, or belonged to God, and therefore we cannot call their names Christian names. Yes, the heathens did give their children names; some of them give their children names still. And there is to me something most sad and painful in those heathen names, and yet most full of meaning. A solemn lesson to us, to show us what the fall means; what man becomes, when he gives way to his fallen nature, and is parted from Christ, the Head of man. First, these heathens had a dim remembrance that man was made in the likeness of God, and lived by Faith in God, and therefore that men's names were to express that, as indeed many of their old names do. But, alas! the likeness of God in fallen man is like a tree without roots, or rather a tree without soil to grow in. God's likeness in man can only flourish as long as he is joined to Christ, the perfect likeness of God, the true life and the true light of men, the foundation which is already laid, and the soil in which man was meant to grow and flourish for ever, and as long as he is fed by the Spirit of God, the Lord and Giver of Life, who proceeds--never forget that, or you will lose the understanding both of who God is and what man is--proceeds not only from God the Father, but also from God the Son, the Lord Jesus Christ. And therefore, in the heathen, God's likeness withered and decayed, as a tree withers and decays when torn up from the soil. And first, they began to call themselves after the names of false gods, which they had invented out of their own carnal fancies. Then they called themselves after the names of their dumb animal's. So, Pharaoh means, 'The Sun-God'; the Ammonites mean, 'The people who worshipped the ram as a god'; Potiphar means, 'A fat bull,' which the Egyptians used to worship; and I could tell you of hundreds of heathen names more, like these, which are ridiculous enough to make one smile, if we did not keep in mind what tokens they are of sin and ignorance, and the likeness not of God, but of the beasts which perish. Then comes another set of names, showing a lower fall still, when heathens have quite forgotten that man was originally made in God's likeness, and are not only content to live after the likeness of the beasts which perish, but pride themselves on being like beasts, and therefore name their children after dumb animals,--the girls after the gentler and fairer animals, and the boys after ravenous and cruel beasts of prey. That has been the custom among many heathen nations; perhaps among almost all of them, at some time or other. It is the custom now among the Red Indians in North America, where you will find one man in a tribe called 'The Bull,' another 'The Panther,' and another 'The Serpent,' and so on; showing that they would like to be, if they could, as strong as the bull, as cruel as the panther, as venomous as the serpent. What wonder that those Red Indians, who have so put on the likeness of the beasts, are now dying off the face of the earth like the beasts whom they admire and imitate? And this was the way with our own heathen forefathers before the blessed Gospel was preached to them. It is frightful, in reading old histories, to find how many Englishmen, our own forefathers, were named after fierce wild beasts, and tried, alas! to be like their names--children of wrath, whose feet were swift to shed blood, under whose lips was the poison of adders, and destruction and bloodshed following in their paths, not knowing the way of peace. The wolf was the common wild beast of England then; and there are, I should say, twenty common old English names ending in wolf, besides as many more ending in bear, and eagle, and raven. Fearful sign! that men of our own flesh and blood should have gloried in being like the wolf, the cruellest, the greediest, the most mean of savage beasts! How shall we thank God enough, who sent to them the knowledge of His Son Jesus Christ, and called them to be new men in Christ Jesus, and called them to holy baptism, to receive new names, and begin new lives in the righteous likeness of God Himself?--that as by nature they had been the children of wrath, so in baptism they might become the children of grace; that as from their forefathers they had inherited a corrupt nature, original sin, and the likeness of the foul and ravenous beasts which perish, they might have power from the Spirit of God to become the sons of God, conformed into the likeness of Jesus Christ, in peace, and love, and righteousness, and all holiness. And yet, in names there is a lower depth still among fallen and heathen men; when they lose utterly the last dim notion that God intends men to be persons, even as God the Father is a person, and God the Son a person, and God the Holy Spirit is a person, and so lose the custom of giving their children personal names at all; either giving them, after they grow up, mere nicknames, taken from some peculiarity of their bodies, or something which they have done, or some place where they happen to live; or else, like many tribes of heathen negroes, just name them after the day of the week on which they were born, as some way of knowing them apart; or, last and most shocking of all, give them no names at all, and have no names themselves, knowing each other apart as the dumb animals do, only by sight. I can conceive no deeper fall into utter brutishness than that; and yet some few of the most savage tribes, both in Africa and in the Indian islands, are said--God help them!--to live in that way, and to have no names;--blotted, indeed, out of the book of life! But is this the right state for men? No; it is the wrong state. It is a disease into which men are fallen; a disease out of which Christ came to raise men; and out of which He does raise us in Holy Baptism. Baptism puts the child into its right state--into the right state for a human being, a human soul, a human person. And baptism declares what that right state is--a member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven. A member of Christ, and therefore a person, because Christ is a person. A child of God, and therefore a person, because a child's duty is to love and trust and obey his father--and only a person can do that, not an animal or a thing. An inheritor of the kingdom of heaven, and therefore bound to cherish all heavenly thoughts and feelings, all righteousness, love, and obedience, which only spirits and persons, not animals or things, can feel. Now can you not see why baptism is the proper time for giving the child a name? Because then Christ claims the child for His own;-- because having a name shows that the child is a person who has a soul, a will, a conscience, a duty; a person who must answer himself for himself alone for what he does in the body, whether it be good or evil. And that will, and soul, and conscience were given the child by Christ, by whom all things are made, who is the Light which lights every man who comes into the world. Thus in holy baptism God adopts the child for His own in Jesus Christ. He declares that the child is regenerate, and has a new life, a life from above, a seed of eternal personal life which he himself has not by nature. And that seed of eternal life is none other but the Holy Spirit of God, the Spirit of the Father and of the Son, the Lord and Giver of Life, who does verily and indeed regenerate the child in holy baptism, and dwells with his soul, his person, his very self, that He may educate the child's character, and raise his affections, and subdue his will, and raise him up daily from the death of sin to the life of righteousness. Therefore, when in the Catechism you solemnly ask the child its name, you ask it no light question. You speak as a spirit, a person, to its spirit, to its very self, which God wills should never perish, but live for ever. You single the child out from all its schoolfellows, from all the millions of human beings who have ever lived, or ever will live; and you make the child, by answering to his name, confess that he is a person, an immortal soul, who must stand alone before the judgment seat of God; a person who has a duty and a calling upon God's earth, which he must fulfil or pay the forfeit. And then you ask the child who gave him his name, and make him declare that his name was given him in baptism, wherein he was made a member of Christ and a child of God. You make the child confess that he is a person in Jesus Christ, that Christ has redeemed him, his very self, and taken him to Himself, and made him not merely God's creature, or God's slave, but God's child. You make the child confess that his duty as a person is not towards himself, to do what _he_ likes, and follow his own carnal lusts; but toward God and toward his neighbours, who are in God's kingdom of heaven as well as he. And then you go on in the rest of the Catechism to teach him how he himself, the person to whom you are speaking, may live for ever and ever as a person, by faith in other Persons beside himself, even in God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, as you teach him in the Creed; by doing his duty to other persons beside himself, even to God and man, as you teach him in the Ten Commandments; and by diligent prayer to another Person beside himself, even to God his heavenly Father, to feed and strengthen him day by day with that eternal life which was given to him in baptism. Thus the whole Catechism turns upon the very first question in it-- 'What is thy name?' It explains to the child what is really meant, in the sight of God, and of the Lord Jesus Christ, and of the whole Church in earth and heaven, by the child's having a name of his own, and being a person, and having that name given to him in holy baptism. And if this is true of our children, my friends, it is equally true of us. You and I are persons, and persons in Christ; each stands alone day and night before the judgment-seat of Christ. Each must answer for himself. None can deliver his brother, nor make agreement unto God for him. Each of us has his calling from his heavenly Father; his duty to do which none can do instead of him. Each has his own sins, his own temptations, his own sorrows, which he must bring single-handed and alone to God his Father, as it is written, 'The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.' There is a world, a flesh, and a devil, near to us, ready to drag us down, and destroy our personal and spiritual life, which God has given us in Christ; a flesh which tempts us to follow our own appetites and passions, blindly and lawlessly, like the beasts which perish; a world which tempts us to become mere things, without free-wills of our own, or consciences of our own, without personal faith and personal holiness; the puppets of the circumstances and the customs which happen to be round us; blown about like the dead leaf, and swept helplessly down the stream of time. And there is a devil, too, near us, tempting us to the deepest lie of all,--to set up ourselves apart from God, and to try, as the devil tries, to be persons in our own strength, each doing what he chooses, each being his own law, and his own master; that is, his own lawlessness, and his own tyrant: and if we listen to that devil, that spirit of lawlessness and self-will, we shall become his slaves, persons in him, doing his work, and finding torment and misery and slavery in it. Awful thought, that so many enemies should be against us; yea, that we ourselves should be our own enemies! But here baptism gives us hope, baptism gives us courage; we are in Christ; God is our Father, and He can and will give us power to have victory, and to triumph against the world, the flesh, and the devil. His Spirit is given to us in baptism--that Spirit of God who is not merely a force or an influence, but a person, a living, loving, holy Person. He is with us, to give our persons, our souls, eternal life from His life, eternal holiness from His holiness; that so, not merely some part of us, but we our very selves and souls--we the very same persons who were christened, and had a name given us in holy baptism, and have been answering to that name all our life, and were reminded, whenever we heard that name, that we had a duty of our own, a history of our own, hopes, fears, joys, sorrows of our own, which none could share with us,-- that we, I say, our own persons, our very selves, may be raised up again at the last day, free, pure, strong, filled with the life of God, which is eternal life. And then, what blessed words are these from the Lord Jesus, which we read in the book of Revelation? 'And I will give to him that overcometh, a new name.' A new name for him that overcometh world, flesh, and devil; that shall be our portion in the world to come. A new name, perfect like the name of the Lord Jesus, which shall express and mean all that we are to do hereafter, and all that we have done well on earth. A name which shall declare to us our calling and work in God's Church triumphant, throughout all ages and worlds to come: and yet a name which no man knoweth saving he who receiveth it. Yes, if we may dare to guess at the meaning of those deep words, perhaps in that new name shall be recorded for each man all that went on, in the secret depths of the man's own heart, between himself and his God, unknown and unnoticed even by the wife of his bosom. The cup of cold water given in Christ's name; the little private acts of love, and kindness, and self-sacrifice, of which none but God knew; the secret prayers, the secret acts of contrition, the secret hungerings and thirstings after righteousness, the secret struggles and agonies of heart, which he could not, dare not, ought not to tell to any human being. All these, he shall find, will go to make up his character in the life to come, to determine what work he is to do for God in the world to come; as it is written, 'Be thou faithful over a few things, and I will make thee ruler over many things.' All these, perhaps, shall be expressed and declared in that new name, the full meaning of which none will know but the man himself, because none but he knows the secret experiences and struggles which went toward the making of it; none but he and God; for God will know all, He who is the Lord and Saviour of our souls, our persons, our very selves, and can preserve them utterly to the fulness of eternal life, because He knows them thoroughly and utterly; because He judges not according to appearance, but judges righteous judgment; because He sees us not merely as we seem to others to be, not even as we seem at times to ourselves to be;--but searches the heart, and can be touched with the feeling of its infirmities, seeing that He himself has been tempted even as we are, yet without sin; because, blessed thought! He can pierce through the very marrow of our being, and discern the thoughts and intents of our hearts, and see what we long to be, and what we ought to be; so that we can safely and hopefully commend our spirits to His hand, day by day and hour by hour, and can trust Him to cleanse us from our secret faults, and to renew and strengthen our very selves day by day with that eternal life which He gives to all who cast themselves utterly upon Him. SERMON V. SPONSORSHIP 1 Cor. xii. 26, 27. Whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or whether one member be honoured, all the members rejoice with it. Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in particular. I have to tell you that there will be a confirmation held at . . . on the . . . All persons of fit age who have not yet been confirmed ought to be ready, and I hope and trust that most of them will be ready, on that day to profess publicly their faith and loyalty to the Lord who died for them. I hope and trust that they will, as soon as possible, tell me that they intend to do so, and come to me to talk over the matter, and to learn what I can teach them about it. They will find in me, I hope, nothing but kindness and fellow- feeling. But I have not only to tell young persons of the Confirmation: I have to tell all godfathers and godmothers of it also. Have any of you here ever stood godfather or godmother to any young person in this parish who is not yet confirmed? If you have, now is the time for you to fulfil your parts as sponsors. You must help me, and help the children's parents, in bringing your godchildren to confirmation. It really is your duty. It will be better for you if you fulfil it. Better for you, not merely by preventing a punishment, but by bringing a blessing. Let me try to show you what I mean. Now godparents must have some duty, some responsibility or other;-- that is plain. If you or I promise and vow things in another person's name, we must be bound more or less to see that that other person fulfils the promise which we made for him: and so the baptism service warns the sponsors as soon as the child is christened, 'Forasmuch as this child has promised,' &c.; and then we have a plain explanation of what a godfather and godmother's duties are. 'And that your godchild may know these things the better,' &c.: and finally, 'you shall take care that this child be brought to the bishop to be confirmed.' That is the duty of godfathers and godmothers. Those who stand for any child do it on that understanding, and take upon themselves knowingly that duty. Now, I will not threaten you, my friends; I will not pretend to tell you how God will punish those godfathers and godmothers who do not do their duty; because I do not know how he will punish them. He has not told us in the Bible; and who am I, to deal out God's thunders as if they belonged to me, and judge people of whose real merits and dements in God's sight I have no fair means of judging? I always dread and dislike threatening any sinner out of this pulpit, except those who plainly break the plain laws which are written in those Ten Commandments, and hypocrites: because I stand in awe of our Lord's own words--'Woe unto you Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, for ye bind heavy burdens, and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men's shoulders, while you yourselves touch them not with one of your fingers.' There is too much of that now-a-days, my friends, and I have no mind to add my share to it. And sure I am, that any godfathers and godmothers who do their duty, only because they are afraid that God will punish them if they do not, will not do their duty at all. But sure I am also, and thankful to God, that we cannot neglect any duty whatsoever without being punished in some way or other for our neglect of it. That is not a curse, but a blessing: it is a blessing to us to be punished. The only real curse of God in this life is to be left unpunished for our sins. It is a blessing for us that our sins find us out. For if our sins did not find _us_ out, we should very often, I fear, not find our sins out. And, therefore, when I tell godfathers and godmothers, not that God will perhaps punish them for their neglect, but that He does punish them for it already, I am telling them good news, if they will only open their hearts to that good news. For God does punish people for neglecting their godchildren. Those who have eyes to see may see it round us now, in this very parish, and in every parish in England, in the selfishness, distrust, divisions, and quarrels which prevail. I do not mean that this parish is worse than others, or England worse than other countries. That is no concern of ours: our own parish, and our own evils, are quite concern enough for us. Are people happy together? Do they pull well together? Look at the old-standing quarrels, misunderstandings, grudges, prejudices, suspicions, which part one man from another, one family from another; every man for his own house, and very few for the kingdom of God;--no, not even for the general welfare of the parish! Do not men try to better themselves at the expense of the parish--to the injury of the parish? Do not men, when they try to raise their own family, seem to think that the simplest way to do it is to pull down their neighbour's family; to draw away their custom; oust them from their places, or hurt their characters in order to rise upon their fall? so that though they are brothers, members of the same church, nation and parish, the greater part of them are, in practice, at war with each other--trying to live at each other's expense. Now, is this profitable? So far from it, that if you will watch the history, either of the whole world, or of this country, or of this one parish, you will find that by far the greater part of the misery in it has sprung from this very selfishness and separateness--from the perpetual struggle between man and man, and between family and family: so that there have been men, and those learned, and thoughtful, and well-meaning men enough, who have said that the only cure for the world's quarrelling and selfishness was to take all children away from their parents, and bring them up in large public schools; ay, and even to try plans which are sinful, foul, and wicked, all in order to prevent parents knowing which were their own children, that they might care for all the children in the parish as much as if they were their own. A foolish plan, my friends, and for this one reason, that it is driving out one evil by a still greater one. It destroys the root to get the fruit; by destroying family life, and love, and obedience, to get at the communion of saints, or rather at some ghost of it. The real communion of saints is founded on the Fifth Commandment--'Thou shalt honour thy father and thy mother;' and grows out of it, not by destroying it, but by fulfilling it, as the tree grows out of the root, without taking away from the life of the root, but rather by nourishing and increasing it. Now, the ancient institution of godfathers and godmothers would, it seems to me, if it were carried out honestly and really, do for us what we certainly have not done for ourselves as yet, and bind us all together as one family. It would do all the good which those fanciful philosophers of whom I first spoke, have dreamt, without any of the evil; and it would do it because it goes simply on the belief that the foundation is already laid, and that that foundation is Christ. It says, because this child is not merely the child of his father and mother, but the child of God, the universal Father, therefore other people besides his parents have an interest in him: all who are children of God as well as he have an interest in him; for they are all his brothers, and have a brother's interest in his welfare. Because this child is not merely a member of the family whose surname he bears, but a member of Christ, a member of God's great adopted family, in the hearts of every one of whom His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, is working; therefore this child ought to be an object of awe, and of interest, and love, and care to every other member of Christ's Church. Moreover, the child is an inheritor of a heavenly kingdom--a kingdom of grace--a kingdom of God,--which is love and justice, and peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit--all personal, spiritual, heavenly, God-given graces;--and he cannot have them without being a blessing to all around him; and he cannot be without them, without being a curse to all around him. If, in after life, when he comes to be confirmed, he claims his inheritance in this heavenly kingdom, he will be full of love, justice, peace, joy in the Holy Spirit. If he refuses to claim his inheritance, and despises his heavenly birthright, and lives as if he were a mere earthly creature, only to please himself, and help himself, he will not be full of those graces. And what then? That he will be full of their opposites, of course. If he has not love, he will be unloving, selfish, hard, cold--to _you_ and yours. If he has not justice he will be unjust--to you and yours. If he is not at peace he will be at war, quarrelling, grudging, envying, backbiting--you and yours. If he has not joy in the Holy Spirit, he will have joy in an unholy spirit, for he must have joy in some spirit; he must take pleasure in some sort of way of thinking and feeling, and some sort of life--in short, in some sort of spirit; and whatsoever is not holy is unholy, whatsoever is not good is bad, whatsoever is not of God's Holy Spirit is of the Devil;--and therefore, if the child as he grows up has not joy in the Holy Spirit, and does not enjoy doing right and pleasing God, and being like the Lord Jesus Christ, then he will enjoy doing wrong, and pleasing himself, and being unlike the Lord Jesus Christ; and so he will set a bad example, and be a temptation to all young people of his own age, ready to lead them into sin, and draw them away to those sinful and unholy pleasures in which he takes delight,--whether it be to rioting and drinking, or to uncleanness and unchastity, or to sneering and laughing at godliness, and at good people. And that, as you know by experience, may be the worse for you and the worse for your children. Is that the sort of young person with whom you would wish to see your children keeping company? Is that the sort of young person next door to whom you would wish to live? Is not such a person a curse, just because he is a person, a spiritual being with an evil spirit in him, which can harm you, and tempt you, and act on you for evil; just as if he had been a righteous person, with the holy and good Spirit in him, he would have helped you, and taught you, and worked on you for good? But so it is: we are members one of another, and if one member goes wrong, and gets diseased, and suffers, all the other members are sure to suffer more or less with it, sooner or later: you feel it so in your bodies--be sure it is so in God's church. But if one member is sound and healthy, all the other members must and will be the better for its health, and rejoice with it, and be able to do their own work the more freely, and strongly, and heartily. Just think for yourselves; consider, you who are grown up, and have had experience of life, the harm you have known one bad man do, the sorrow he will cause, even to people who never saw him; and the good which you have seen one good man, not merely do with his own hands, but put into other people's hearts by his example. Is not both the good and the harm which is done on earth like the ripple of a stone dropt into water, which spreads and spreads for a vast distance round, however small the stone may be? Indeed, bold as it may seem to say it, I believe that, if we could behold all hearts as the Lord Jesus does, we should find that there never was a good man but that the whole of Christendom, perhaps all mankind, was sooner or later, more or less, the better for him; and that there never was a bad man but that all Christendom, perhaps all mankind, was the worse for him. So fully and really true it is in everyday practice, that we are members one of another. Now this is the principle on which the Church acts. For the little unconscious infant is treated as what it is, a most solemn and important person, who has other relations beside its father and mother, as a person who is the brother of all the people round it, and of all the Church of God, and who, too, may hereafter do to them boundless good or harm, and they to it. Therefore we must have some persons to bear witness of that, to remind the child himself, and the whole Church, that he is not merely a soul by itself to be saved, but that he is a brother, a member of a family; that he is bound to that family henceforth, for good and for evil. And this the godfathers and godmothers do: they represent and stand in the place of the whole Church. In one sense, every Christian who meets that child through life, or hears of it, ought to behave, as far as he can, as its godfather; ought to help and improve it if he can. But what is everybody's business, says the proverb, is nobody's business; and therefore these godfathers and godmothers are called out from the rest, as examples to the rest, to watch over the child, and to help and advise its father and mother in guiding and training it: but not by interfering with a parent's rights, God forbid! or by drawing away the child's affections from its own flesh and blood; for if a child be not taught first to honour its father and mother, there is little use in teaching it anything else whatsoever; and a godfather's first duty is to see that his godchild obeys its earthly parents for the Lord's sake, for that is right, and God's will, whatever else is not. Now just conceive--I am sure that you easily may--what a blessing to this parish, or this part of the country, it would be, were the duties of godfathers really carried out and practised. Every child, beside his father and mother, would have some two or three elder friends at least, whom he had known from his childhood, whom he could trust, to whom he could go in trouble as to his own flesh and blood. The orphan would have, if not relations, still godparents, to comfort and protect him. No one could go abroad without meeting, if not a godparent, yet the godparent or godchild of a friend or a relation; someone, in short, who had an interest in him, and he in them. All would be bound together in threefold cords of interest and affection. How many spites, family quarrels, mistakes, and ignorances about each other would be done away, if people would but thus simply enter into that communion of saints to which, by right, they belong, and bear each other's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.--Unless you think that men are such ill-conditioned creatures that the less they mix with each other the better. I do not. I believe that the more we mix with each other, and the better we know each other, the more we shall feel for each other: that the more we help people, the more we shall find that they are worth helping; that the more, in a word, we try to live, not after the likeness of the beasts, selfish and apart, but after the order and constitution of God's Church, to which we belong, and which is, that we are all fellow-members of one body, then the more we shall find that God's order is the right, good, blessed order, by obeying which we enter into comfort of which we never dream as long as we lead selfish, separate, worldly lives; as it is written, 'Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive, the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.' This may seem a fanciful dream, too fair to be possible; but what prevents it from being possible, save and except our own selfishness and laziness? And as for what fruit will spring from it, I have seen, by experience, the blessing of godfathership and godmothership, where it is really carried out; how it will knit together, in sacred bonds of friendship, not merely the children, but the grown persons of different families, and give them a fellow-feeling, a mutual interest, which will prevent a hundred quarrels and coldnesses among frail human creatures. And to those who are childless themselves, what a blessing to have their love and self-sacrifice called out, by being bound in holy bonds, if not to children of their own, at least to children of God!--to have young people to care for, to teach, to guide, and so to win for themselves in the Church of God a name better than that of sons and daughters. And have no fear that by bringing your kindness to bear especially upon your godchildren you will narrow your love, and care less for children in general. Not so, my friends; you will find that your love to your godchildren, like love to your own children, will make all children lovable in your eyes: you will learn how worthy of your love children are, what capacities of good there are in them, how truly of such are the kingdom of heaven; and their simplicity will often teach you more than you can teach them. Their God-given instincts of right and wrong, truth and falsehood, which come from the indwelling Word of God, Jesus the Lord, will often enough shame us, will teach us more and more the depth of that great saying, 'Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, Thou, O God, hast perfected Thy praise.' Now try, I entreat you, all godfathers and godmothers, to carry out these hints of mine, and so fulfil your duty to your godchildren, sure that you will find it a blessing to yourselves as well as to them. After all it is your duty. But do not let the slandering Devil slander to you that blessed word, Duty, and make you afraid of it, and shrink from it, as if it meant something burdensome, and troublesome, and thankless, which you suppose you must do for fear of punishment, while you have a right to see how little of it you can do, and try to be let off as cheaply as possible. Beware of that evil spirit, my friends, for he is very near you, and me, and every man, whenever we think of our duty. Very near us he is, that evil Jesuit spirit, that spirit of bondage unto fear, which is continually setting us on to find out with how _little_ service God will be contented, how human slaves may make the cheapest bargain with some stern taskmaster above, of whom they dream. And from that temptation there is no escape, save into the blessed name of God Himself--our Father. Our Father!--whenever you think of your duty to God or man, think but of those two words. Remember that all duty is duty to a Father; your Father; and such a Father! Who gave His only begotten Son to die for you, who showed what He was in that Son--full of goodness, perfectly loving, perfectly merciful, perfectly just; and then you will not be inclined to ask how _little_ obedience, how _little_ love, how _little_ service, He will allow you to pay to Him; but how much He will help you to pay to Him. Then you will feel that His service is perfect freedom, because it is service to a Father who loves you, and will help you to do His will. Then you will feel that His commandments are not grievous, because they are a Father's commandments, because you are bound to do them, not by dread and superstition, but by gratitude, honour, affection, respect, trust. Then you will not be thinking of what punishment will come if you disobey--no, nor of what reward will come if you obey--but you will be thinking of the commandment itself, and how to carry it out most perfectly, and let the consequences take care of themselves, because you know that your _Father_ takes care of them; that He loves you, and therefore what He commands must be good for you, utterly the best thing for you; that He only gives you a commandment because it is good for you; that you are made in God's image, and therefore God's will must be for you the path of life, the only rule by which you can prosper now and for ever. Do try, now, all you who are godfathers and godmothers, and for once look on your duty in this light. Be sure that in trying to do your duty you will bring a blessing on yourselves, because your duty is to a Father in heaven. Be sure that, in trying to better your godchildren, you will better yourselves; in trying to teach them, you will teach yourselves; in trying to bring them to confirmation, you will indeed confirm, root, and strengthen yourselves the more deeply in all that is good; because your godchildren are indeed God's children, and whatsoever you do for them you do for His only begotten Son Jesus Christ, as He Himself says, 'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these little ones, ye did it unto Me.' Do not be afraid of trying; you will have a hundred reasons for not trying rise in your mind, the Devil will find you a hundred lying excuses: 'It will be so difficult; and you do not like to interfere with other people's children; and you have never cared about your godchildren yet, and it will seem so odd to begin now; and the children may not listen to you; and besides, you do not know enough to teach them; you are not good scholar enough, good liver enough, you can't preach where you don't practice.' Oh, how ready the Devil is to help a man to excuses for not doing his duty; how careful he is to keep out of a man's mind the one thought which would sweep all those excuses to the wind--the thought that this same duty, which he is trying to make look so ugly, is duty to a loving Father. Do not listen to his lies; look up to your good Father in heaven; and try. It is God's will that these children should be confirmed; it is His will that you should help to bring them to confirmation; and if it is His will, He will help you to do that will of His. It may seem difficult: but try, and the difficulty will vanish, for God will make it easy for you. You may be afraid of interfering: believe that God's Spirit is working in the hearts of your godchildren, and of their parents also; and trust to God's Spirit to make them kindly and thankful to you about the matter, and glad to see that you take an interest in their children. You may seem not to know enough: O, my friends, you know enough, every one of you, if you have courage to confess how much you know. Ask God for courage to speak out, and He will give it you. And even if you are no scholar, be sure that, as the old proverb says, 'Teaching is the best way of learning.' Any parent, or godfather, or godmother, who will try to teach their children God's truth and their duty, will find that in so doing they will teach themselves even more than they teach the children. I say it because I know it from my own experience. And for the rest, again I say, is not God your Father? Therefore, if any man be in want of wisdom, or courage, or any other heavenly gift, let him ask of God, who giveth liberally and upbraideth not, and he shall receive it. For after all, when you ask God to teach you, and strengthen you to do your duty, you do but ask Him for a part of that very inheritance which He has already given you; a part of your inheritance in that kingdom of heaven which is a kingdom of spiritual gifts and graces, into which you were baptized as well as your godchildren. Try then, each of you, what you can do to bring your own godchildren to confirmation, and what you can do to make them fit for confirmation; for you are members one of another, and if you will act as such, you will find strength to do your duty, and a blessing in your day from that heavenly Father from whom every fatherhood in heaven and earth, and yours among the rest, is named. SERMON VI. JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH Ephesians ii. 5. By grace ye are saved. We all hold that we are justified by faith, that is, by believing; and that unless we are justified we cannot be saved. And of all men who ever believed this, perhaps those who gave us the Church Catechism believed it most strongly. Nay, some of them suffered for it; endured persecution, banishment, and a cruel death, because they would persist in holding, contrary to the Romanists, that men were justified by faith only, and not by the works of the law; and that this was one of the root-doctrines of Christianity, which if a man did not believe, he would believe nothing else rightly. Does it not seem, then, something strange that they should never in this Catechism of theirs mention one word about justifying or justification? They do not ask the child, 'How is a man justified?' that he may answer, 'By faith alone;' they do not even teach him to say, 'I am justified already. I am in a state of justification;' but not saying one word about that, they teach him to say much more-- they teach him to say that he is in a state of salvation, and to thank God boldly because he is so; and then go on at once to ask him the articles of his belief. And even more strange still, they teach him to answer that question, not by repeating any doctrines, but by repeating the simple old Apostles' Creed. They do not teach him to say, as some would now-a-days, 'I believe in original sin, I believe in redemption through Christ's death, I believe in justification by faith, I believe in sanctification by the Holy Spirit,'--true as these doctrines are; still less do they bid the child say, 'I believe in predestination, and election, and effectual calling, and irresistible grace, and vicarious satisfaction, and forensic justification, and vital faith, and the three assurances.' Whether these things be true or false, it seemed to the ancient worthies who gave us our Catechism that children had no business with them. They had their own opinions on these matters, and spoke their opinions moderately and wisely, and the sum of their opinions we have in the Thirty-nine Articles, which are not meant for children, not even for grown persons, excepting scholars and clergymen. Of course every grown person is at liberty to study them; but no one in the Church of England is required to agree to them, and to swear that they are true, except scholars at our old Universities, and clergymen, who are bound to have studied such questions. But for the rest of Englishmen all the necessary articles of belief (so the old divines considered) were contained in the simple old Apostles' Creed. And why? Because, it seems to me, they were what Englishmen ought to be--what too many Englishmen are too apt to boast of being in these days, while they are not so, or anything like it--and that is, honest men and practical men. They had taught the children to say that they were members of Christ, children of God, and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven; and they had taught the children, when they said that, to mean what they said; for they had no notion that 'I am,' meant 'I may possibly be;' or that 'I was made,' meant 'There is a chance of my being made some time or other.' They would not have dared to teach children to say things which were most probably not true. So believing really what they taught, they believed also that the children were justified. For if a child is not justified in being a member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven, what is he justified in being? Is not that exactly the just, right, and proper state for him, and for every man?--the very state in which all men were meant originally to be, in which all men ought to have been? So they looked on these children as being in the just, right, and proper way, on which God looks with satisfaction and pleasure, and in which alone a man can do just, right, and proper things, by the Spirit of Christ, which He gives daily and hourly to those who belong to Him and trust in Him and in His Father. But they knew that the children could only keep in this just, and right, and proper state by trusting in God, and looking up to Him daily in faith, and love, and obedience. They knew that if the children, whether for one hour or for their whole lives, lost trust in God, and began trusting in themselves, they would that very moment, then and there, become not justified at all, because they would be doing a thing which no man is justified in doing, and fall into a state into which no man is justified in remaining for one hour--that is, into an unjustifiable state of self-will, and lawlessness, and forgetfulness of who and of what they were, and of what God was to them; in one word, into a sinful state, which is not a righteous, or just, or good, or proper state for any man, but an utterly unrighteous, unjust, wrong, improper, mistaken, diseased state, which is certain to breed unrighteous, unjust, improper actions in a man, as a limb is certain to corrupt if it be cut off from the body, as a little child is certain to come to harm if it runs away from its parents, and does just what it likes, and eats whatsoever pleases its fancy. So these old divines, being practical men, said to themselves, 'These children are justified and right in being what they are, therefore our business is to keep them what they are, and we can only do that as long as they have faith in God and in His Christ.' Now, if they had been mere men of books, they would have said to themselves, 'Then we must teach the children very exactly what faith is, that they may know how to tell true faith from false, and may be able to judge every day and hour whether they have the right sort of faith which will justify them, or some wrong sort which will not.' And many wise and good men in those times did say so, and tormented their own minds, and the minds of weak brethren, with long arguments and dry doctrines about faith, till, in their eagerness to make out what sort of thing faith ought to be, they seemed quite to forget that it must be faith in God, and so seemed to forget too who God was, and what He was like. Therefore, they ended by making people believe (as too many, I fear, do now-a-days) not that they were justified freely by the grace of God, shown forth in the life, and death, and resurrection of his Son Jesus Christ; no: but that they were justified by believing in justification by faith, and that their salvation depended not on being faithful to God and trusting in Him, but in standing up fiercely for the doctrine of justification by faith. And so they destroyed the doctrine of free grace, while they thought they were fighting for it; for they taught men not to look to God for salvation, so much as to their own faith, their own frames, and feelings, and experiences; and these, as common sense will show you, are just as much something in a man, as acts of his own, and part of him, as his good works would be; and so by making people fancy that it was having the right sort of feelings which justified them, they fell back into the very same mistake as the Papists against whom they were so bitter, namely, that it is something in a man's self which justifies him, and not simply Christ's merits and God's free grace. But our old Reformers were of a different mind; and everlasting thanks be to Almighty God that they were so. For by being so they have made the Church of England (as I always have said, and always will say) almost the only Church in Europe, Protestant or other, which thoroughly and fully stands up for free grace, and justification by faith alone. For these old Reformers were practical men, and took the practical way. They knew, perhaps, the old proverb, 'A man need not be a builder to live in a house.' At least they acted on it, and instead of trying to make the children understand what faith was made up of, they tried to make them live in faith itself. Instead of saying, 'How shall we make the children have faith in God by telling them what faith is?' they said, 'How shall we make them have faith in God by telling them what God is?' And therefore, instead of puzzling and fretting the children's minds with any of the controversies which were then going on between Papists and Protestants, or afterwards between Calvinists and Arminians, they taught the children simply about God; who He was, and what He had done for them and all mankind; that so they might learn to love Him, and look up to Him in faith, and trust utterly to Him, and so remain justified and right, saved and safe for ever. By doing which, my friends, they showed that they knew more about faith and about God than if they had written books on books of doctrinal arguments (though they wrote those too, and wrote them nobly and well); they showed that they had true faith in God, such trust in Him, and in the beauty and goodness, justice and love, which He had shown, that they only needed to tell the children of it, and they would trust Him too, and at once have faith in so good a God. They showed that they had such trust in the excellencies, and reasonableness, and fitness of His Gospel, that they were sure that it would come home at once to the children's hearts. They showed that they had such trust in the power of His grace, in His love for the children, in the working of His Spirit in the children, that He would bring His Gospel home to their hearts, and stir them up by the spirit of adoption to feel that they were indeed the children of God, to whom they might freely cry, 'My Father!' And I say that they were not deceived. I say that experience has shown that they were right; that the Church Catechism, where it is really and honestly taught, gives the children an honest, frank, sober, English temper of mind which no other training which I have seen gives. I have seen, alas! Church schools fail, ere now, in training good children; but as far as I have seen, they have failed either because the Catechism was neglected for the sake of cramming the children's brains with scholarship, or because the Catechism was not honestly taught: because the words were taught by rote, but the explanations which were given of it were no explanations at all, but another doctrine, which our forefathers knew not: either Dissenting or Popish; either a religion of fancies, and feelings, and experiences, or one of superstitious notions and superstitious ceremonies which have been borrowed from the Church of Rome, and which, I trust in God, will be soon returned to their proper owner, if the free, truthful, God-trusting English spirit is to remain in our children. I know that there are good men among Dissenters, my friends; good men among Romanists. I have met with them, and I thank God for them; and what may not be good for English children may be good for foreign ones. I judge not; to his own master each man stands or falls. But I warn you frankly, from experience (not of my own merely--Heaven forbid!--but from the experience of centuries past), that if you expect to make the average of English children good children on any other ground than the Church Catechism takes, you will fail. Of course there will be some chosen ones here and there, whose hearts God will touch; but you will find that the greater part of the children will not be made better at all; you will find that the cleverer, and more tender-hearted will be made conceited, Pharisaical, self-deceiving (for children are as ready to deceive themselves, and play the hypocrite to their own consciences, as grown people are); they will catch up cant words and phrases, or little outward forms of reverence, and make a religion for themselves out of them to drug their own consciences withal; while, when they go out into the world, and meet temptation, they will have no real safeguard against it, because whatsoever they have been taught, they have not been taught that God is really and practically their Father, and they His children. I have seen many examples of this kind. Perhaps those who have eyes to see may have seen one or two in this very parish. Be that as it may, I tell you, my friends, that your children shall be taught the Church Catechism, with the plain, honest meaning of the words as they stand. No less: but as God shall give me grace, no more. If it be not enough for them to know that God, He who made heaven and earth, is their Father; that His Son Jesus Christ redeemed them and all mankind by being born of the Virgin Mary, suffering under Pontius Pilate, being crucified, dead, and buried, descending into hell, rising again the third day from the dead, ascending into Heaven, and sitting on the right hand of God the Father Almighty, in the intent of coming from thence to judge the living and the dead; to believe in the Holy Spirit, in the holy universal Church in which He keeps us, in the fellowship of all Saints in which He knits us together; in the forgiveness of our sins which He proclaims to us, in the resurrection of our body which He will quicken at the last day, in the life everlasting which is His life,--if, I say, this be not enough for them to believe, and on the strength thereof to trust God utterly, and so be justified and saved from this evil world, and from the doom and punishment thereof, then they must go elsewhere; for I have nothing more to offer them, and trust in God that I never shall have. SERMON VII. DUTY AND SUPERSTITION Micah vi. 6-8. Wherewith shall I come before the Lord and bow myself before the most High God? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings? . . . Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams? . . . Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression; the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God? There are many now-a-days who complain of that part of the Church Catechism which speaks of our duty to God and to our neighbour; and many more, I fear, who shrink from complaining of the Church Catechism, because it is part of the Prayer-book, yet wish in their secret hearts that it had said something different about Duty. Some wonder why it does not say more about what are called 'religious duties,' and 'acts of worship,' 'mortification,' 'penitence,' and 'good works.' Others wonder no less why it says nothing about what are called 'Christian frames and feelings,' and 'inward experiences.' For there is a notion abroad in the world, as there is in all evil times, that a man's chief duty is to save his own soul after he is dead; that his business in this world is merely to see how he can get out of it again, without suffering endless torture after his body dies. This is called superstition: anxiety about what will happen to us after we die. Now if you look at the greater number of religious books, whether Popish or Protestant, you will find that in practice the main thing, almost the one thing, which they are meant to do, is to show the reader how he may escape Hell-torments, and reach Heaven's pleasures after he dies: not how he may do his Duty to God and his neighbour. They speak of that latter, of course: they could not be Christian books at all, thank God, without doing so; but they seem to me to tell men to do their Duty, not simply because it is right, and a blessing in itself, and worth doing for its own sake, but because a man may gain something by it after he dies. Therefore, to help their readers to gain as much as possible after they die, they are not content with the plain Duty laid down in the Bible and in the Catechism, but require of men new duties over and above; which may be all very good if they help men to do their real Duty, but are simply worth nothing if they do not. Let me explain myself. I said just now that superstition means anxiety about what will happen to us after we die. But people commonly understand by superstition, religious ceremonies, like the Popish ones, which God has not commanded. And that is not a wrong meaning either; for people take to these ceremonies from over- anxiety about the next life. The one springs out of the other; the outward conduct out of the inward fear; and both spring alike out of a false notion of God, which the Devil (whose great aim is to hinder us from knowing our Father in Heaven) puts into men's minds. Man feels that he is sinful and unrighteous; the light of Christ in his heart shows him that, and it shows him at the same time that God is sinless and righteous. 'Then,' he says, 'God must hate sin;' and there he says true. Then steps in the slanderer, Satan, and whispers, 'But you are sinful; therefore God hates you, and wills you harm, and torture, and ruin.' And the poor man believes that lying voice, and will believe it to the end, whether he be Christian or heathen, until he believes the Bible and the Sacraments, which tell him, 'God does not hate you: He hates your sins, and loves you; He wills not your misery but your happiness; and therefore God's will, yea, God's earnest endeavour, is to raise you out of those sins of yours, which make you miserable now, and which, if you go on in them, must bring of themselves everlasting misery to you.' Of themselves; not by any arbitrary decree of God (whereof the Bible says not one single word from beginning to end), that He will inflict on you so much pain for so much sin: but by the very nature of sin; for to sin is to be parted from God, in whose presence alone is life, and therefore sin is, to be in death. Sin is, to be at war with God, who is love and peace; and therefore to be in lovelessness, hatred, war, and misery. Sin is, to act contrary to the constitution which God gave man, when He said, 'Let us make man in our image, after our likeness;' and therefore sin is a disease in human nature, and like all other diseases, must, unless it is checked, go on everlastingly and perpetually breeding weakness, pain and torment. And out of that God is so desirous to raise you, that He spared not His only begotten Son, but freely gave Him for you, if by any means He might raise you out of that death of sin to the life of righteousness--to a righteous life; to a life of Duty--to a dutiful life, like His Son Jesus Christ's life; for that must go on, if you go on in it, producing in you everlastingly and perpetually all health and strength, usefulness and happiness in this world and all worlds to come. But men will not hear that voice. The fact is, that simply to do right is too difficult for them, and too humbling also. They are too proud to like being righteous only with Christ's righteousness, and too slothful also; and so they go about like the old Pharisees, to establish a righteousness of their own; one which will pamper their self-conceit by seeming very strange, and farfetched, and difficult, so as to enable them to thank God every day that they are not as other men are; and yet one which shall really not be as difficult as the plain homely work of being good sons, good fathers, good husbands, good masters, good servants, good subjects, good rulers. And so they go about to establish a righteousness of their own (which can be no righteousness at all, for God's righteousness is the only righteousness, and Christ's righteousness is the only pattern of it), and teach men that God does not merely require of men to do justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly with their God, but requires of them something more. But by this they deny the righteousness of God; for they make out that he has not behaved righteously and justly to men, nor showed them what is good, but has left them to find it out or invent it for themselves. For is it not establishing a righteousness of one's own, to tell people that God only requires these Ten Commandments of Christians in general, but that if any one chooses to go further, and do certain things which are not contained in the Ten Commandments, 'counsels of perfection,' as they are called, and 'good works' (as if there were no other good works in the world), and so do more than it is one's duty to do, and lead a sort of life which is called (I know not why) 'saintly' and 'angelic,' then one will obtain a 'peculiar crown,' and a higher place in Heaven than poor commonplace Christian people, who only do justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly with their God? And is it not, on the other hand, establishing a righteousness of one's own, to say that God requires of us belief in certain doctrines about election, and 'forensic justification,' and 'sensible conversion,' and certain 'frames and feelings and experiences;' and that without all these a man has no right to expect anything but endless torture; and all the while to say little or nothing about God's requiring of men the Ten Commandments? For my part, I am equally shocked and astonished at the doctrine which I have heard round us here--openly from some few, and in practice from more than a few--that because the Ten Commandments are part of the Law, they are done away with, because we are not now under the Law but under Grace. What do they mean? Is it not written, that not one jot or tittle of the Law shall fail; and that Christ came, not to destroy the Law, but to fulfil it? What do they mean? That it was harm to break the Ten Commandments before Christ came, but no harm to break them now? Do they mean that Jews were forbid to murder, steal, and commit adultery, but that Christians are not forbidden? One thing I am afraid they do mean, for I see them act up to it steadily enough. That Jews were forbidden to covet, but that Christians are not; that Jews might not commit fornication, but Christians may; that Jews might not lie, but Christians may; that Jews might not use false weights and measures, or adulterate goods for sale, but that Christians may. My friends, if I am asked the reason of the hypocrisy which seems the besetting sin of England, in this day;--if I am asked why rich men, even high religious professors, dare speak untruths at public meetings, bribe at elections, and go into parliament each man with a lie in his right hand, to serve neither God nor his country, but his political party and his religious sect, by conduct which he would be ashamed to employ in private life;--if I am asked why the middle classes (and the high religious professors among them, just as much as any) are given over to cheating, coveting, puffing their own goods by shameless and unmanly boasting, undermining each other by the dirtiest means, while the sons of religious professors, both among the higher and the middle classes, seem just as liable as any other young men to fall into unmanly profligacy;--if I am asked why the poor profess God's gospel and practise the Devil's works; and why, in this very parish now, there are women who, while they are drunkards, swearers, and adulteresses, will run anywhere to hear a sermon, and like nothing better, saving sin, than high-flown religious books;--if I am asked, I say, why the old English honesty which used to be our glory and our strength, has decayed so much of late years, and a hideous and shameful hypocrisy has taken the place of it, I can only answer by pointing to the good old Church Catechism, and what it says about our duty to God and to our neighbour, and declaring boldly, 'It is because you have forgotten that. Because you have despised that. Because you have fancied that it was beneath you to keep God's plain human commandments. You have been wanting to "save your souls," while you did not care whether your souls were saved alive, or whether they were dead, and rotten, and damned within you; you have dreamed that you could be what you called "spiritual," while you were the slaves of sin; you have dreamed that you could become what you call "saints," while you were not yet even decent men and women.' And so all this superstition has had the same effect as the false preaching in Ezekiel's time had. It has strengthened the hands of the wicked, that he should not turn from his wicked way, by promising him life; and it has made the heart of the righteous sad, whom God has not made sad. Plain, respectable, God-fearing men and women, who have wished simply to do their duty where God has put them, have been told that they are still unconverted, still carnal-- that they have no share in Christ--that God's Spirit is not with them--that they are in the way to endless torture: till they have been ready one minute to say, 'Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die'--'Surely I have cleansed my hands in vain, and washed my heart in innocency;' and the next minute to say, with Job, angrily, 'Though I die, thou shalt not take my righteousness from me! You preachers may call me what names you will; but I know that I love what is right, and wish to do my duty;' and so they have been made perplexed and unhappy, one day fancying themselves worse than they really were, and the next fancying themselves better than they really were; and by both tempers of mind tempted to disbelieve God's Gospel, and throw away the thought of vital religion in disgust. And now people are raising the cry that Popery is about to overrun England. It may be so, my friends. If it is so, I cannot wonder at it; if it is so, Englishmen have no one to blame but themselves. And whether Popery conquers us or not, some other base superstition surely will conquer us if we go on upon our present course, and set up any new-fangled, self-invented righteousness of our own, instead of the plain Ten Commandments of God. For I tell you plainly they are God's everlasting law, the very law of liberty, wherewith Christ has made us free; and only by fulfilling them, as Christ did, can we be free--free from sin, the world, the flesh, and the Devil. For to break them is to sin: and whosoever commits sin is the slave of sin; and whosoever despises these commandments will never enjoy that freedom, but be entangled again in the yoke of bondage, and become a slave, if not to open and profligate sins, still surely to an evil and tormenting conscience, to superstitious anxieties as to whether he shall be saved or damned, which make him at last ask, 'Wherewithal shall I come before the Lord? Will the Lord be pleased with this, that and the other fantastical action, or great sacrifice of mine?' or at last, perhaps, the old question, 'Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? Shall I cheat my own family, leave my property away from my children, desert them to shut myself up in a convent, or to attempt some great religious enterprise?'--Things which have happened a thousand times already, and worse, far worse, than them; things which will happen again, and worse, far worse than them, as soon as a hypocritical generation is seized with that dread and terror of God which is sure to arise in the hearts of men who try to invent a righteousness of their own, and who forget what God's righteousness is like, and who therefore forget what God is like, and who therefore forget what God's name is, and who therefore forget that Jesus Christ is God's likeness, and that the name of God is 'Love.' Now, I say that the Church Catechism, from beginning to end, is the cure for this poison, and in no part more than where it tells us our duty to God and our neighbour; and that it does carry out the meaning of the text as no other writing does, which I know of, save the Bible only. For what says the text? 'He hath showed thee, O man, what is good.' Who has showed thee? Who but this very God, from whom thou art shrinking; to whom thou art looking up in terror, as at a hard taskmaster, reaping where He has not sown, who willeth the death of a sinner, and his endless and unspeakable torment? The very God whom thou dreadest has stooped to save and teach thee. He hath sent His only begotten Son to thee, to show thee, in the person of a man, Jesus Christ, what a perfect man is, and what He requires of thee to be. This Lord Jesus is with thee, to teach thee to live by faith in thy heavenly Father, even as He lived, and to be justified thereby, even as He was justified by being declared to be God's well-beloved Son, and by being raised from the dead. He will show thee what is good; He has shown thee what is good, when He showed thee His own blessed self, His story and character written in the four Gospels. This is thy God, and this is thy Lord and Master; not a silent God, not a careless God, but a revealer of secrets, a teacher, a guide, a 'most merciful God, who showeth to man the thing which he knew not;' that same Word of God who talked with Adam in the garden, and brought his wife to him; who called Abraham, and gave him a child; who sent Moses to make a nation of the Jews; who is the King of all the nations upon earth, and has appointed them their times and the bounds of their habitation, if haply they may feel after Him and find Him; who meanwhile is not far from any one of them, seeing that in Him they live, and move, and have their being, and are His offspring; who has not left Himself without witness, that they may know that He is one who loves, not one who hates, one who gives, not one who takes, one who has pity, not one who destroys, in that He gives them rain and fruitful seasons, filling their hearts with food and gladness. This is thy God, O man! from whose face thou desirest to flee away. Next, 'He hath showed thee, O _man_.' Not merely, 'He hath showed thee, O deep philosopher, or brilliant genius;'--not merely, 'He hath showed thee, O eminent saint, or believer who hast been through many deep experiences:' but, 'He hath showed thee, O _man_.' Whosoever thou art, if thou be a man, subsisting like Jesus Christ the Son of Man, of a reasonable soul and human flesh; thou labourer at the plough, tradesman in thy shop, soldier in the battle-field, poor woman working in thy cottage, God hath showed thee, and thee, and thee, what is good, as surely and fully as He has shown it to scholars and divines, to kings and rulers, and the wise and prudent of the earth. And He hath showed _thee_; not you. Not merely to the whole of you together; not merely to some of you so that one will have to tell the other, and the greater part know only at second-hand and by hearsay: but He hath showed to thee, to each of you; to each man, woman, and child, in this Church, alone, privately, in the depths of thy own heart, He hath showed what is good. He hath sent into thine heart a ray of The Light who lighteth every man who comes into the world. He has given to thy soul an eye by which to see that Light, a conscience which can receive what is good, and shrink from what is evil; a spiritual sense, whereby thou canst discern good and evil. That conscience, that soul's eye of thine, God has regenerated, as He declares to thee in baptism, and He will day by day make it clearer and tenderer by the quickening power of His Holy Spirit; and that Spirit will renew Himself in thee day by day, if thou askest Him, and will quicken and soften thy soul more and more to love what is good, and strengthen it more and more to hate and fly from what is evil. Next, 'He hath showed thee, O man, what is GOOD.' Not merely what will turn away God's punishments, and buy God's rewards; not merely what will be good for thee after thou diest: but what is good, good in itself, good for thee now, and good for thee for ever; good for thee in health and sickness, joy and sorrow, life and death; good for thee through all worlds, present and to come; yea, what would be good for thee in hell, if thou couldst be in hell and yet be good. Not what is good enough for thy neighbours and not good enough for thee, good enough for sinners and not good enough for saints, good enough for stupid persons and not good enough for clever ones; but what is good in itself and of itself. The one very eternal and absolute Good which was with God, and in God, and from God, before all worlds, and will be for ever, without changing or growing less or greater, eternally The Same Good. The Good which would be just as good, and just, and right, and lovely, and glorious, if there were no world, no men, no angels, no heaven, no hell, and God were alone in his own abyss. That very good which is the exact pattern of His Son Jesus Christ, in whose likeness man was made at the beginning, God hath showed thee, O man; and hath told thee that it is neither more nor less than thy Duty, thy Duty as a man; that thy duty is thy good, the good out of which, if thou doest it, all good things such as thou canst not now conceive to thyself, must necessarily spring up for thee for ever; but which if thou neglectest, thou wilt be in danger of getting no good things whatsoever, and of having all evil things, mishap, shame, and misery such as thou canst not now conceive of, spring up for thee necessarily for ever. This seems to me the plain meaning of the text, interpreted by the plain teaching of the rest of Scripture. Now see how the Catechism agrees with this. It takes for granted that God has showed the child what is good: that God's Spirit is sanctifying and making good, not only all the elect people of God, but him, that one particular child; and it makes the child say so. Therefore, when it asks him, 'What is thy duty to God and to thy neighbour?' it asks him, 'My child, thou sayest that God's Spirit is with thee, sanctifying thee and showing thee what is good, tell me, therefore, what good the Holy Spirit has showed thee?--tell me what He has showed thee to be good, and therefore thy duty?' But some may answer, 'How can you say that the Holy Spirit teaches the children their Duty, when it is their schoolmaster, or their father, who teaches them the Ten Commandments and the Catechism?' My friends, we may teach our children the Ten Commandments, or anything else we like, but we cannot teach them that that is their _duty_. They must first know what Duty means at all, before they can learn that any particular things are parts of their Duty. And, believe me, neither you nor I, nor all the men in the world put together, no, nor angel, nor archangel, nor any created being, nor the whole universe, can teach one child, no, nor our own selves, the meaning of that plain word DUTY, nor the meaning of those two plain words, I OUGHT. No; that simple thought, that thought which every one of us, even the most stupid, even the most sinful has more or less, comes straight to him from God the Father of Lights, by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit of God, the Spirit of Duty, Faith, and Obedience. For mind--when you teach a child, 'If you do this wrong thing-- stealing, for instance--God will punish you: but if you are honest, God will reward you,' you are not teaching the child that it is his Duty to be honest, and his Duty not to steal. You are teaching him what is quite right and true; namely, that it is profitable for him to be honest, and hurtful to him to steal: but you are not teaching him as high a spiritual lesson as any soldier knows when he rushes upon certain death, knowing that he shall gain nothing, and may lose everything thereby, but simply because it is his Duty. You are only enticing your child to do right, and frightening him from doing wrong; quite necessary and good to be done: but if he is to be spiritually honest, honest at heart, honest from a sense of honour, and not of fear; in one word, if he is to be really honest at all, or even to try to be really honest, something must be done to that child's heart which nothing but the Spirit of God can do; he must be taught that it is his DUTY to be honest; that honesty is RIGHT, the perfectly right, and proper, and beautiful thing for him and for all beings, yea, for God Himself; he must be taught to love honesty, and whatsoever else is right, for its own sake, and therefore to feel it his Duty. And I say that God does that by your children. I say that we cannot watch our children without seeing that, though there is in them, as in us, a corrupt and wilful flesh, which tempts them downward to selfish and self-willed pleasures: yet there is in them generally, more than in us their parents, a Spirit which makes them love and admire what is right, and take pleasure in it, and feel that it is good to be good, and right to do right; which makes them delight in reading and hearing of loving, and right, and noble actions; which makes them shocked, they hardly know why, at bad words, and bad conduct, and bad people. And woe to those who deaden that tenderness of conscience in their own children, by their bad examples, or by false doctrines which tell the children that they are still unregenerate, children of the Devil, not yet Christians; and who so put a stumbling-block in the way of Christ's little ones, and do despite to the Spirit of Grace by which they are sealed to the day of redemption. I see parents thinking that their children are to learn the deceitfulness of the human heart from themselves, and the working of God's Spirit from their parents; but I often think that the teachers ought to be converted indeed, that is, turned right round and become the learners instead of the teachers, and learn the workings of God's Spirit from their children, and the deceitfulness of the human heart from themselves; if at least the Lord Jesus's words have any real force or meaning at all, when He said, not, 'Except the little children be converted, and become as you,' but, 'Except ye be converted, and become as one of these little children, ye' (and not they) 'shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.' Believe me, my friends, that your children's angels do indeed behold the face of their Father which is in heaven; that there is a direct communication between Him and them; and that the sign and proof of it is, the way in which they understand at once what you tell them of their duty, and take to it, as it were, only too readily and hopefully, and confidently, as if it were a thing natural and easy to them. Alas! it is neither natural nor easy, and they will find out that too soon by sad experience: but still, the Divine Light is there, the sense of duty is in their minds, and the law of God is written in their hearts by the Holy Spirit of God, who is sanctifying them, not merely by teaching them to hope for heaven, or to dread hell, but by showing them what is good. And herein, I say, the simple and noble old Church Catechism, by faith in God's Spirit, does indeed perfect praise out of the mouths of babes. Without one word about rewards or punishments, heaven or hell, it begins to talk to the child, like a true English Catechism as it is, about that glorious old English key word, DUTY. It calls on the child to confess its own duty, and teaches it that its duty is something most human, simple, everyday, commonplace, if you will call it so. I rejoice that it is commonplace; I rejoice that in what it says about our duty to God, and to our neighbour, it says not one word about those counsels of perfection, or those frames and feelings, which depend, believe me, principally on the state of people's bodily health, on the constitution of their nerves, and the temper of their brain: but that it requires nothing except what a little child can do as well as a grown person, a labouring man as well as a divine, a plain farmer as well as the most refined, devout, imaginative lady. May God bless them all; may God help them all to do their Duty in that station of life to which it has pleased God to call them; but may God grant to them never to forget that there is but one Duty for all, and that all of them can do that Duty equally well, whatever their constitution, or scholarship, or station of life may be, provided they will but remember that God has called them to that station, and not try to invent some new and finer one for themselves; provided they remember that they are to do in that station neither more nor less than every one else is to do in theirs, namely, to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with their God. In a word, to be perfect, even as their Father in heaven is perfect. To do justly, because God is just, faithful, and true, rewarding every man according to his works, and no partial accepter of persons; so that in every nation he that feareth God and worketh righteousness is accepted by Him. To love mercy, because God loves mercy; to be merciful, because our Father in heaven is merciful; because He willeth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should turn from his wickedness and live; because God came to seek and to save that which is lost, and is good to the unthankful and the evil; and because God so loved sinful man, that when man hated God, God's answer to man's hate, God's vengeance upon man's rebellion, was, to send His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believed in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. And to walk humbly with your God, because--and what shall I say now? Does God walk humbly? Can there be humility in God? Can God obey? And yet it must be so. If, as is most certain from Holy Scripture, man, as far as he is what man ought to be, is the image and glory of God; if man's justice ought to be a copy of God's justice, and man's mercy a copy of God's mercy, and all which is good in man a copy of something good in God: if, as is most certain, all good on earth is God's likeness, and only good because it is God's likeness, and is given by God's Spirit,--then our walking humbly with God, if it be good, must be a copy of something in God. But of what? That, my friends, is a question which can never be answered but by those who believe in the mystery of the ever-blessed Trinity, The Father, The Son, and The Holy Ghost. It is too solemn and great a matter to be spoken of hastily at the end of a sermon. I will tell you what little I seem to see of it next Sunday, with awe and trembling, as one who enters upon holy ground. But this I will tell you, to bear in mind meanwhile, that if you wish to know or to do what is right, you must firmly believe and bear in mind this,--that God's justice is exactly like what would be just in you and me, without any difference whatsoever: that God's mercy is exactly like what would be merciful in you and me; and that, as I hope to show you next Sunday, God's humility, wonderful as it may seem, is exactly like what would be humble in you and me. For I warn you, that if you do not believe this, you will be tempted to forget God's righteousness, and to invent a righteousness of your own, which is no righteousness at all, but unrighteousness. For there can be but one righteousness--mind what I say--only one righteousness, as there can be only one truth, and only one reason. Forget that, and you will be tempted to invent for yourselves a false justice, which is dishonest and partial; a false mercy, which is cruel; a false humility, which is vain and self-conceited; and you will be tempted also, as men of all religions and denominations have been, to impute to God actions, and thoughts, and tempers, which are (as your own consciences, if you would listen to God's Word in them, would tell you) unjust, cruel, and proud; and then you will be tempted to say that things are justifiable in God, which you would not excuse in any other being, by saying: 'Of course it must be right in Him, because He is God, and can do what He will.' As if the Judge of all the earth would not do Right; as if He could be anything, or could do anything, but the Eternal _Good_ which is His very being and essence, and which He has shown forth in His Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who went about doing good because God was with Him. We all know what the good which He did was like. Let us believe that God the Father's goodness is the same as Jesus Christ's goodness. Let us believe really what we say when we confess that Jesus was the brightness of His Father's Glory, and the express image of His Person. SERMON VIII. SONSHIP John v. 19, 20, 30. Then answered Jesus, Verily, verily, I say unto you, The Son can do nothing of Himself, but what He seeth the Father do: for what things soever He doeth, these also doeth the Son likewise. For the Father loveth the Son, and sheweth Him all things that Himself doeth. I can of mine own self do nothing: as I hear, I judge: and my judgment is just; because I seek not mine own will, but the will of my Father which is in Heaven. This, my friends, is why man should walk humbly and obediently with his God; because humility and obedience are the likeness of the Son of God, who, though He is equal to His Father, yet to do His Father's will humbled Himself, and took on Him the form of a slave, and though He is a Son, yet learned obedience by the things which He suffered; sacrificing Himself utterly and perfectly to do the commands of His Father and our Father, of His God and our God; and sacrificing Himself to His Father not as a man merely, but as a son; not because He was in the likeness of sinful flesh, but because He was The Everlasting Son of His Father; not once only on the cross, but from all eternity to all eternity, the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world. This is a great mystery; we may understand somewhat more of it by thinking over the meaning of those great words, Father and Son. Now, first, a son must be of the same nature as his father,--that is certain. Each kind of animal brings forth after its kind: the lion begets lions, the sheep, sheep; the son of a man must be a man, of one substance with his earthly father; and by the same law, the Son of God must be God. Take away that notion: say that the only- begotten Son of God is not very God of very God, of one substance with His Father, and the word son means nothing. If a son be not of the same substance as his father, he is not a son at all. And more, a perfect son must be as great and as good as his father, exactly like his father in everything. That is the very meaning of father and son; that like should beget like. Among fallen and imperfect men, some sons are worse and weaker than their fathers: but we all feel that that is an evil, a thing to be sorry for, a sad consequence of our fallen state. Our reasons and hearts tell us that a son ought to be equal to his father, and that it is in some way an affliction, almost a shame, to a father, if his children are weaker or worse than he is. But we cannot fancy such a thing in God; the only-begotten perfect Son of the Almighty and perfect Father must be at least equal to His Father, as great as His Father, as good as His Father; the brightness of His Father's glory, and the express image of His Father's person. But there is another thing about father and son which we must look at, and that is this: a good son loves and obeys his father, and the better son he is, the more he loves and obeys his father; and therefore a perfect son will perfectly love and perfectly obey his father. Now, here is the great difference between animals and men. Among the higher animals, the mothers always, and the fathers sometimes, feed, and help, and protect their young: but we seldom or never find that young animals help and protect their parents; certainly, they never obey their fathers when they are full grown, but are as ready to tear their fathers in pieces as their fathers are to tear them: so that the love and obedience of full-grown sons to their fathers is so utterly human a thing, so utterly different from anything we find in the brutes, that we must believe it to be part of man's immortal soul, part of God's likeness in man. And in the text our Lord declares that it is so; He declares that His obedience to His Father, and His Father's love to Him, is the perfect likeness of what goes on between a good son and a good father among men; only that it is _perfect_, because it is between a perfect Father and a perfect Son. Father and Son! Let philosophers and divines discover what they may about God, they will never discover anything so deep as the wonder which lies in those two words, Father and Son. So deep, and yet so simple! So simple, that the wayfaring man, though poor, shall not err therein. 'Who is God? What is God like? Where shall we find Him, or His likeness?'--so has mankind been crying in all ages, and getting no answer, or making answers for themselves in all sorts of superstitions, idolatries, false philosophies. And then the Gospel comes, and answers to every man, to every poor and unlearned labourer: Will you know the name of God? It is a Father, a Son, and a Holy Spirit of love, joy, peace; a Spirit of perfect satisfaction of the Father in the Son, and perfect satisfaction of the Son with the Father, which proceeds from both the Father and the Son. It needs no scholarship to understand that Name; every one may understand it who is a good father; every one may understand it who is a good son, who looks up to and obeys his father with that filial spirit of love, and obedience, and satisfaction with his father's will, which is the likeness of the Holy Spirit of God, and can only flourish in any man by the help of the Holy Spirit which proceeds from the Father and the Son. Father and Son! what more beautiful words are there in the world? What more beautiful sight is there in the world than a son who really loves his father, really trusts his father, really does his duty to his father, really looks up to and obeys his father's will in all things? who is ready to sacrifice his own credit, his own pleasure, his own success in life, for the sake of his father's comfort and honour? How much more fair and noble must be the love and trust which is between God the Father and God the Son! I wish that some of those who now write so many excellent books for young people, would write one made up entirely of stories of good sons who have obeyed, and worked for, and suffered for their parents. Sure I am that such a book, wisely and well written, would teach young people much of the meaning of the blessed name of God, much of their duty to God. And yet, after all, my friends, is not such a book written already? Have we not the four Gospels, which tell us of Jesus Christ, the perfect Son, who came to do the will of a perfect Father? Read that; read your Bibles. Read the history of the Lord Jesus Christ, keeping in mind always that it is the history of the Son of God, and of His obedience to His Father. And when in St. John's most wonderful Gospel you meet with deep texts, like the one which I have chosen, read them too as carefully, if possible more carefully, than the rest; for they are meant for all parents and for all children upon earth. Read how The Father loves The Son, and gives all things into His hand, and commits all judgment to The Son, and gives Him power to have life in Himself, even as The Father has life in Himself, and shows Him all things that Himself doeth, that all men may honour The Son even as they honour The Father. Read how The Son came only to show forth His Father's glory; to be the brightness of His glory and the express image of His person: to establish His Father's kingdom; to declare the goodness of His Father's Name, which is _The_ Father. How He does nothing of Himself, but only what He sees His Father do; how He seeks not His own will, but the will of the Father who sent Him; how He sacrificed all, yea even His most precious body and soul upon the cross, to finish the work which His Father gave Him to do. How, being in the form of God, and thinking it no robbery to be equal with God, He could boldly say, 'As the Father knoweth me, even so know I the Father. I and my Father are one:' and still, in the fulness of His filial love and obedience, declared that He had no will, no wish, no work, no glory, but His Father's; and in the hour of His agony cried out, 'Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not my will but thine be done.' My friends, you will be able to understand more and more of the meaning of these words just in proportion as you are good sons and good fathers; and therefore, just in proportion as you are led and taught by the Holy Spirit of God, without whose help no man can be either a good father or a good son. A bad son; a disobedient, self- willed, self-conceited son, who is seeking his own credit and not his father's, his own pleasure and not his parent's comfort; a son who is impatient of being kept in order and advised, who despises his parent's counsel, and will have none of his reproof,--to him these words of our Lord, the deepest, noblest words which were ever spoken on earth, will have no more meaning than if they were written in a foreign language; he will not know what our Lord means; he will not be able to see why our Lord came and suffered; he will not see any beauty in our Lord's character, any righteousness in His sacrificing Himself for His Father; and because he has forgotten his duty to his earthly father, he will never learn his duty to God. For what is the duty of the Lord Jesus Christ is our duty, if we are the sons of God in Him. He is The Son of God by an eternal never- ceasing generation; we are the sons of God by adoption. The way in which we are to look up to God, The Holy Spirit must teach us; what is our duty to God The Holy Spirit must teach us. And who is The Holy Spirit? He is The Spirit who proceeds from The Son as well as from The Father. He is The Spirit of Jesus Christ, The Spirit of the Son of God, the Spirit who descended on the Lord Jesus when He was baptized, the Spirit which God gave to Him without measure. He is the Spirit of The Son of God; and we are sons of God by adoption, says Saint Paul; and because we are sons, he says, God has sent forth into our hearts the Spirit of His Son, by whom we look up to God as our Father; and this Spirit of God's Son, by whom we cry to God, Abba, Father, St. Paul calls, in another place, the Spirit of adoption; and declares openly that He is the very Spirit of God. Therefore, in whatsoever way the Spirit of God is to teach you to look up to God, He will teach you to look up to Him as a Father; the Father of Spirits, and therefore your Father; for you are a spirit. Whatsoever duty to God the Holy Spirit teaches you, He teaches you first, and before all things, that it is filial duty, the duty of a son to a father, because you are the son of God, and God is your Father. Therefore, whatsoever man or book tells you that your duty to God is anything but the duty of a son to his father does not speak by the Spirit of God. Whatsoever thoughts or feelings in your own hearts tell you that your duty to God is anything but the duty of a son to his father, and tempt you to distrust God's forgiveness, and shrink from Him, and look up to Him as a taskmaster, and an austere and revengeful Lord, are not the Spirit of God; no, nor your own spirit, 'the spirit of a man,' which is in you; for that was originally made in the likeness of God's Spirit, and by it rebellious sons arise and go back to their earthly fathers, and trust in them when they have nothing else left to trust, and say to themselves, 'Though all the world has cast me off, my parents will not. Though all the world despise and hate me, my parents love me still; though I have rebelled against them, deserted them, insulted them, I am still my father's child. I will go home to my own people, to the house where I was born, to the parents who nursed me on their knee, I will go to my father.' Fathers and mothers! if your son or daughter came home to you thus, though they had insulted you, disgraced you, and spent their substance in riotous living, would you shut your doors upon them? Would not all be forgiven and forgotten at once? Would not you call your neighbours to rejoice with you, and say, 'It is good to be merry and glad, for this our son was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found?' And would not that penitent child be more precious to you, though you cannot tell why, than any other of your children? Would you not feel a peculiar interest in him henceforth? And do you not know that so to forgive would be no weak indulgence, but the part of a good father; a good, and noble, and human thing to do? Ay, a human thing, and therefore a divine thing, part of God's likeness in man. For is it not the likeness of God Himself? Has not God Himself, in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, declared that He does so forgive His penitent children, at once and utterly, and that 'There is more joy among the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety and nine just persons who need no repentance?' So says the Lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God. Let who dare dispute His words, or try to water them down, and explain them away. And why should it not be so? Do you fancy God less of a father than you are? Is He not _The_ Father, the perfect Father, 'from whom every fatherhood in heaven and earth is named?' Oh, believe that He is indeed a Father; believe that all the love and care which you can show to your children is as much poorer than the love and care God shows to you, as your obedience to your earthly parents is poorer and weaker than the love and obedience of Jesus Christ to His Father. God is as much better a Father than you are, as Jesus Christ is a better Son than you are. There is a sum of proportions; a rule-of-three sum; work it out for yourselves, and then distrust God's love if you dare. And believe, that whatsoever makes you distrust God's love is neither the Spirit of God who is the spirit of sonship, nor the spirit of man: but the spirit of the Devil, who loves to slander God to men, that they may shrink from Him, and be afraid to arise and go to their Father, to be received again as sons of God; that so, being kept from true penitence, they may be kept from true holiness, and from their duty to God, which is the duty of sons of God to their Father in heaven. Believe no such notions, my friends; howsoever humble and reverent they may seem, they are but insults to God; for under pretence of honouring Him, they dishonour Him; for He is love, and he who feareth, that is, who looks up to God with terror and distrust, is not made perfect in love. So says St. John, in the very chapter wherein he tells us that God is love, and has manifested His love to us by sending His Son to be the Saviour of the world; and that the very reason for our loving God is, that He loves us already; and that therefore He who loveth not knoweth not God, for God is love. Yes, my friends, God is your Father; and God is love; and your duty to God is a duty of love and obedience to a Father who so loved you and all mankind that He spared not His only begotten Son, but freely gave Him for you. 'Our Father which art in heaven,' is to be the key-note of all your duty, as it is to be the key-note of all your prayers: and therefore the Catechism is right in teaching the child that God is his Father, and Jesus Christ the perfect Son of God his pattern, and the Holy Spirit of the Father and of the Son his teacher and inspirer, before it says one word to the child about duty to God, or sin against God. How indeed can it tell him what sin is, until it has told him against whom sin is committed, and that if he sins against God he sins against a Father, and breaks his duty to his Father? And how can it tell him that till it has told him that God is his Father? How can it tell him what sin is till it has told him what righteousness is? How can it tell him what breaking his duty is till it has told him what the duty itself is? But the child knows already that God is his Father; and therefore, when the Catechism asks him, 'What is his duty to God?' it is as much as to say, 'My child, thou hast confessed already that thou hast a good Father in heaven, and thou knowest as well as I (perhaps better) what a father means. Tell me, then, how dost thou think thou oughtest to behave to such a Father?' And the whole answer which is put into the child's mouth, is the description of duty to a father; of things which there would be no reason for his doing to anyone who was not his father; nay, which he could not do honestly to anyone else, but only hypocritically, for the sake of flattering, and which differs utterly from any notion of duty to God which the heathen have ever had just in this, that it is a description of how a son should behave to a father. Read it for yourselves, my friends, and judge for yourselves; and may God give you all grace to act up to it--not in order that you, by 'acts of faith,' or 'acts of love,' or 'acts of devotion,' may persuade God to love you; but because He loves you already, with a love boundless as Himself; because in Him you live, and move, and have your being, and are the offspring of God; because His mercy is over all His works, and because He loved the world, and sent His Son, not to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved; because He is The Giver, The Father of lights, from whom comes every good and perfect gift; because all which makes this earth habitable--all justice, order, wisdom, goodness, mercy, humbleness, self-sacrifice-- all which is fair, or honourable, or useful, in men or angels, in kings on their thrones or in labourers at the plough, in divines in their studies or soldiers in the field of battle--all in the whole universe, which is not useless, and hurtful, and base, and damnable, and doomed (blessed thought that it is so!) to be burned up in unquenchable fire--all, I say, comes forth from the Father of the spirits of all flesh, the Lord of Hosts, who is wonderful in counsel and excellent in working; who spared not His only begotten Son, but freely gave Him for us, and will with Him freely give us all things. SERMON IX. THE LORD'S PRAYER Matt. vi. 9, 10. After this manner pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven. I have shown you what a simple account of our duty to God and to our neighbour the Catechism gives us. I now beg you to remark, that simple and everyday as this same duty is, the Catechism warns us that we cannot do it without God's special grace, and I beg you to remark further, that the Catechism does not say that we cannot do these things well without God's special grace, but that we cannot do them at all. It does not say that we cannot do all these things of ourselves, but that we can do none of them. But I want you to remark one thing more, which is very noteworthy: that in this case, for the first time throughout the Catechism, the teacher tells the child something. All along the teacher has, as I have often shown you, been making the child tell him what is right, calling out in the child's heart thoughts and knowledge which were there already. Now he in his turn tells the child something which he takes for granted is not in the child's heart, of which, if it is, has been put into it by his teachers, and of which he must be continually reminded, lest he should forget it; namely, that he cannot do these of himself; that, as St. Paul says, 'in him,' that is, in his flesh, 'dwells no good thing;' that he is not able to think or to do anything as of himself, but his sufficiency is of God, who works in him to will and to do of His good pleasure, who has also given him His Holy Spirit. The Catechism, in short, takes for granted that the child knows his duty; but it takes for granted also that he does not know how to do that duty. It takes for granted, that in every child there is as St. Paul says, 'a law in his members warring against the law of his mind, and bringing him into captivity to the law of sin' (literally, of short coming, or missing the mark) 'which is in his members.' Now man's natural inclination is to suppose that good thoughts are part of himself, and therefore that a good will to put them in practice is in his own power. I blame no one for making that mistake: but I warn them, in the name of the Bible and of the Catechism, that it is a mistake, and one which every man, woman, and child will surely discover to be a mistake, if they try to act on it. Good thoughts are not our own; they are Jesus Christ's; they come from Him, The Life and The Light of men; they are His voice speaking to our hearts, informing us of His laws, showing us what is good. And good desires are not our own: they come from the Holy Spirit of God, who strives with men, and labours to lift their hearts up from selfishness to love; from what is low and foul, to what is noble and pure; from what is sinful and contrary to God's will, to what is right and according to God's will. This is the lesson which you and I and every man have to learn: that in ourselves dwells no good thing; but that there is One near us mightier than we, from whom all good things do come; and that He loves us, and will not only teach us what is good, but give us the power to do the good we know. But if we forget that, if we take any credit whatsoever to ourselves for the good which comes into our minds, then we shall be surely taught our mistake by sore afflictions and by shameful falls; by God's leaving us to ourselves, to try our own strength, and to find it weakness; to try our own wisdom, and find it folly; to try our own fancied love of God, and find that after all our conceit of ourselves, we love ourselves better, when it comes to a trial, than we love what is right; until, in short, we are driven with St. Paul to feel that, howsoever much our hearts may delight in the Law of God, there is a corrupt nature in us which fights against our delight in God's law, and will surely conquer it, and make us slaves to our own fancies, slaves to our passions, slaves to ourselves, ay, slaves to the very lowest and meanest part of ourselves: unless we can find a deliverer; unless we can find some one stronger than us, who can put an end to this hateful, shameful war within us between good wishes and bad deeds. And then, if we will but cry with St. Paul, 'Oh, wretched man that I am, _who_ shall deliver me from the body of this death?' we shall surely, sooner or later, hear a voice within our hearts, a voice full of love, of comfort, of fellow-feeling for us,--'_I_ will deliver thee, my child; _I_, even I thy Father in heaven; I will teach thee, and inform thee in the way wherein thou shouldest go; and I will guide thee with mine eye.' And then with St. Paul we shall be able to answer our own question, and say, 'Who will deliver me? I thank God, that God Himself will deliver me, through Jesus Christ our Lord.' This, then, is the reason why we need to pray: because we need to be delivered from ourselves. This is the reason why we may pray, because God is willing to deliver us from ourselves, if we be willing. But every human being round us needs to be delivered from themselves, just as much as we do. Without that deliverance we cannot do our duty, neither can they. And just in proportion as men are delivered from themselves, will mankind do its duty, and the world go right. Now their duty is the same as ours; and therefore the prayer which is right and good for us is equally right and good for them. And what is more, we cannot pray rightly for ourselves unless we pray for them in the very same breath; for the Catechism tells us that there is one duty for all of us, to love and obey and serve our heavenly Father, and to love our neighbour as ourselves, because they are our brothers, children of one common Father, members of the same God's family as we are, and their interest and ours are bound up together. Yes, to love all mankind as ourselves; for though too many of them, alas! are not yet in God's family, and strangers to His covenant, yet God's will is that they too should come to the knowledge of the truth; and therefore for them we can pray hopefully and trustfully, 'Lord have mercy on all men, on Jews, Turks, Infidels, and heretics; and bring them home, blessed Lord, to Thy flock, that they may be saved and made one fold under one Shepherd, through Jesus Christ our Lord, in whom Thou hast declared Thy good will to all the children of men.' This is the right prayer. That all men may do their duty where God has put them. That those who, like the heathen, do not know their duty, may be taught it; that we who do know it, may have strength to do it. And therefore it is that the Catechism teaches us the need of prayer, immediately after making us confess our duty; and therefore it is that it begins by teaching the Lord's Prayer, because that prayer is the one, of all prayers which ever have been offered upon earth, which perfectly expresses the duty of man, and man's relation to Almighty God. It is throughout a prayer for strength. It confesses throughout what we want strength for, to what use we are to put God's grace if He bestows it on us. Our delight in the Lord's Prayer will depend on what we consider our duty here on earth to be. If we look upon this earth principally as a place where we are to pray for all the good things which we can get, our first prayer will be, of course, 'Give us this day our daily bread.' If we look at this earth principally as a place where we have a chance of being saved from punishment and torment after we die, then our first prayer will be, 'Forgive us our sins.' And, in fact, that is all that too many of our prayers now-a-days seem to consist of,-- 'Oh, my Maker, give me. my daily bread. Oh, my Judge, forgive me my sins.' Right prayers enough, but spoilt by being taken out of their place; spoilt by being prayed before all other prayers; spoilt, too, by being prayed for ourselves alone, and not for other people also. But if we believe, as the Bible and the Catechism tell us, that we and all Christian people are God's children, members of God's family, set on earth in God's kingdom to do His work by doing our duty, each in that station of life to which God has called us, in the hope of a just reward hereafter according to our works, then our great desire will be for strength to do our duty, and the Lord's Prayer will seem to us the most perfect way of asking for that strength; and if we believe that we are God's children and He our Father, we shall feel sure that we must get strength from Him, and sure that we must ask for that strength; and sure that He will give it us if we do ask. But if His will is to give it us, why ask Him at all? Why pray at all, if God already knows our necessities, and is able and willing to supply them? My friends, the longer I live, the more certain I am that the only reason for praying at all is because God is our Father; the more certain I am that we shall never have any heart to pray unless we believe that God is our Father. If we forget that, we may utter to Him selfish cries for bread; or when we look at His great power, we may become terrified, and utter selfish cries to Him not to harm us, without any real shame or sorrow for sin: but few of us will have any heart to persevere in those cries. People will say to themselves, 'If God is evil, He will not care to have mercy on me: and if He is good, there is no use wearying Him by asking Him what He has already intended to give me: why should I pray at all?' The only answer is, 'Pray, because God is your Father, and you His child.' The only answer; but the most complete answer. I will engage to say, that if anyone here is ever troubled with doubts about prayer, those two simple words, 'Our Father,' if he can once really believe them in their full richness and depth, will make the doubts vanish in a moment, and prayer seem the most natural and reasonable of all acts. It is because we are God's children, not merely His creatures, that He will have us pray. Because He is educating us to know Him; to know Him not merely to be an Almighty Power, but a living, loving Person; not merely an irresistible Fate, but a Father who delights in the love of His children, who wishes to shape them into His own likeness, and make them fellow-workers with Him; therefore it is that He will have us pray. Doubtless he _could_ have given us everything without our asking; for He _does_ already give us almost everything without our asking. But He wishes to educate us as His children; to make us trust in Him; to make us love Him; to make us work for Him of our own free wills, in the great battle which He is carrying on against evil; and that He can only do by teaching us to pray to Him. I say it reverently, but firmly. As far as we can see, God cannot educate us to know Him, The living, willing, loving Father, unless He teaches us to open our hearts to Him, and to ask Him freely for what we want, just _because_ He knows what we want already. If I have not made this plain enough to any of you, my friends, let me go back to the simple, practical explanation of it which God Himself has given us in those two words--father and child. Should you like to have a child who never spoke to you, never asked you for anything? Of course not. And why? 'Because,' you would say, 'one might as well have a dumb animal in one's family instead of a child, if it is never to talk and ask questions and advice.' Most true and reasonable, my friends. And as you would say concerning your children, so says God of His. You feel that unless you teach your children to ask you for all they want, even though you know their necessities before they ask, and their ignorance in asking, you will never call out their love and trust towards you. You know that if you want really to have your child to please and obey you, not as a mere tame animal, but as a willing, reasonable, loving child, you must make him know that you are training him; and you must teach him to come to you of his own accord to be trained, to be taught his duty, and set right where he is wrong: and even so does God with you. If you will only consider the way in which any child must be educated by its human parents, then you will at once see why prayer to our Heavenly Father is a necessary part of our education in the kingdom of heaven. Now the Lord's Prayer, just this sort of prayer, is man's cry to his Heavenly Father to train him, to educate him, to take charge of him, daily and hourly, body and soul and spirit. It is a prayer for grace, for special grace; that is, for help, daily and hourly, in each particular duty and circumstance; for help from God specially suited to enable us to do our duty. And the whole of the prayer is of this kind, and not, as some think, the latter part only. It is too often said that the three first sentences are not prayers for man, but rather praises to God. My friends, they cannot be one without being the other. You cannot, I believe, praise God aright without praying for men; you cannot pray for men aright without praising God; at least, you cannot use the Lord's Prayer without doing both at once, without at once declaring the glory of God and praying for the welfare of all mankind. 'Hallowed be Thy name.' Is not that a prayer for men as well as praise to God? Yes, my friends, when you say, 'Our Father, hallowed be Thy name,' you pray that all men may come at last to look up to God as their Father, to love, serve, and obey God as His children; and for what higher blessing can you pray? Ay, and you pray, too, that men may learn at last the deep meaning of that word--father; that they may see how Godlike and noble a trust God lays on them when He gives them children to educate and make Christian men; you pray that the hearts of all fathers may be turned to the children, and the hearts of all children to the fathers; you pray for the welfare, and the holiness, and the peace of every home on earth; you pray for the welfare of generations yet unborn, when you pray, 'Our Father, hallowed be Thy name.' 'Thy kingdom come.' Is not that too, if we will look at it steadfastly, prayer for our neighbours, prayer for all mankind, and still prayer for ourselves; prayer for grace, prayer for the life and health of our own souls? 'Thy kingdom come.'--That kingdom of the Father which Jesus Christ proved by His works on earth to be a kingdom of justice and righteousness, of love and fellow-feeling. When we pray, 'Thy kingdom come,' it is as if we said, 'Son of God, root out of this sinful earth all self-will and lawlessness, all injustice and cruelty; root out all carelessness, ignorance, and hardness of heart; root out all hatred, envy, slander; root them out of all men's hearts; out of my heart, for I have the seeds of them in me. Make me, and all men round me, day by day, more sure that Thou art indeed our King; that Thou hast indeed taught us the laws of Thy Father's kingdom; and that, only in keeping them and loving them is there health, and righteousness, and safety for any soul of man, for any nation under the sun.' 'Thy will be done;'--no, not merely 'Thy will be done;' but done 'on earth as it is in heaven;' done, not merely as the trees and the animals, the wind and clouds, do Thy will, by blindly following their natures, but done as angels and blessed spirits do it, of their own will. They obey Thee as living, willing, loving persons; as Thy sons: teach us to obey Thee in like manner; lovingly, because we love Thy will; willingly, because our wills are turned to Thy will; and therefore, oh Heavenly Father, take charge of these wayward wills and minds of ours, of these selfish, self-willed, ignorant, hasty hearts of ours, and cleanse them and renew them by Thy Spirit, and change them into Thy likeness day by day. Make us all clean hearts, oh God, and renew within us a right spirit, the copy of Thine own Holy Spirit. Cast us not away from Thy presence, for from Thee alone comes our soul's life; take not from us Thy Holy Spirit, who is The Lord and Giver of Life; whose will is Thy will; who alone can strengthen and change us to do Thy will on earth, as saints and angels do in heaven, and to be fellow-workers with each other, fellow-workers with Thee, O God, even as those blessed spirits are who minister day and night to all Thy creatures. 'Give us this day our daily bread.' People sometimes divide the Lord's Prayer into two parts--the ascriptions and the petitions--and consider that after we have sufficiently glorified and praised God in the first three sentences of the prayer, then we are at liberty to begin asking something for ourselves, and to say 'Give us day by day our daily bread.' I cannot think so, my friends. I have been showing you that 'Hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,' if we do but recollect that they are spoken to our Father, are just as much prayers for all mankind, as they are hymns of honour to God; and so I say of these latter: 'Give us--Forgive us-- Lead us not--Deliver us'--that if we will but remember that they, too, are spoken to our Father, we shall find that they are just as much hymns of honour to God as prayers for mankind. Yes, my friends, when we say, 'Give us this day our daily bread,' we do indeed honour God and the name of God. We declare that He is Love, that He is The Giver, The absolutely and boundlessly _generous and magnanimous_ Being. And what higher glory and honour or praise can we ascribe, even to God Himself, than to say that of Him? Next, we pray not for ourselves only, but for our neighbours; for England, for Christendom, for the heathen who know not God, and for generations yet unborn. We pray that God would so guide, and teach, and preserve the children of men, as to enable them to fulfil in every country and every age the work which He gave them to do, when He said, 'Be fruitful, and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it.' We know that our Father has commanded us to labour. We know that our Father has so well ordered this glorious earth, that whosoever labours may reap the just fruit of his labour; therefore we pray that God would prosper our righteous plans for earning our own living. We pray to Him not only so to order the earth that it may bring forth its fruits in due season, but that men may be in a fit state to enjoy those fruits, that God may not be forced for their good to withhold from them blessings which they might abuse to their ruin. But we pray, also, 'Give _us_:' not me only, but _us_; and therefore we pray that He would prosper our neighbour's plans as well as ours. So we confess that we believe God to be no respecter of persons; we confess that we believe He will not take bread out of others' mouths to give it to us; we declare that God's curse is on all selfishness and oppression of man by man; we renounce our own selfishness, the lust which our fallen nature has to rise upon others' fall, and say, 'Father, we are all children at Thy common table. Thou alone canst prosper the richest and the wisest; Thou alone canst prosper the poorest and the weakest; Thou wilt do equal justice to all some day, and we confess that Thou art just in so doing; we only ask Thee to do it now, and to give us and all mankind that which is good for them.' Thus we pray not for this generation only, but for generations yet unborn; not for this nation of England only, but for heathens and savages beyond the seas. When we say, 'Give us our daily bread,' we pray for every child here and on earth, that he may receive such an education as may enable him to get his daily bread. We pray for learned men in their studies, that they may discover arts and sciences which shall enrich and comfort nations yet unborn. We pray for merchants on the seas, that they may discover new markets for trade, new lands to colonize and fill with Christian men, and extend the blessings of industry and civilization to the savage who lives as the beasts which perish and dwindles down off the face of the earth by famine, disease, and war, the victim of his own idleness, ignorance, and improvidence. And all the while we are praying for the widow and the orphan, that God would send them friends in time of need; for the houseless wanderer, for the shipwrecked sailor, for sick persons, for feeble infants, that God would send help to them who cannot help themselves, and soften our hearts and the hearts of all around us, that we may never turn our faces away from any poor man, lest the face of the Lord be turned away from us. So far we have been praying to our Heavenly Father, first as a Father, then as a King, then as an Inspirer, then as a Giver; and next we pray to Him as a _For_giver--'Forgive us our trespasses.' We have been confessing in these four petitions what God's goodwill to man is; what God wishes man to be, how man ought to live and believe. And then comes the recollection of sin. We must confess what God's law is before we can confess that we have broken it; and now we do confess that we have broken it. We know that God is our Father. How often have we forgotten that He is a father; how often have we forgotten to be good fathers ourselves. We are in God's kingdom. How often have we behaved as if we were our own kings, and had no masters over us but our own fancies, tempers, appetites! We are to do His will on earth as it is done in heaven. How have we been doing our own will!--pleasing ourselves, breaking loose from His laws, trying to do right of our own wills and in our own strength, instead of asking His Spirit to strengthen, and cleanse, and renew our wills, and so have ended by doing not the right which we knew to be right, but the wrong which we knew to be wrong. God is a giver. How often have we looked on ourselves as takers, and fancied that we must as it were steal the good things of this world from God, lest He should forget to give us what was fitting! How often have we forgotten that God gives to all men, as well as to us; and while we were praying, give _me_ my daily bread, kept others out of their daily bread! Oh, my friends, we cannot blame ourselves too much for all these sins; we cannot think them too heinous. We cannot confess them too openly; we cannot cry too humbly and earnestly for forgiveness. But we never shall feel the full sinfulness of sin; we never shall thoroughly humble ourselves in confession and repentance, unless we remember that all our sins have been sins against a Father, and a forgiving Father, and that it is His especial glory, the very beauty and excellence in Him, which ought to have kept us from disobeying Him, that He does forgive those who disobey Him. And, lastly, in like manner, when you say, 'Lead us not into temptation, but deliver,' &c., you are not only entreating God to lead you, but you are honouring and praising Him, you are setting forth His glory, and declaring that He is a God who does _lead_, and a God who does not leave His poor creatures to wander their own foolish way, but guides men, in spite of all their sins, full of condescension and pity, care and tender love. You do not only ask God to deliver you from evil, but you declare that He is righteous, and hates evil; that He is love, and desires to deliver you from evil; One who spared not His only-begotten Son, but gave Him freely for us, to deliver us from evil; and raised Him up, and delivered all power into His hand, that He might fight His Father's battle against all which is hurtful to man and hateful to God, till death itself shall be destroyed, and all enemies put under the feet of the Saviour God. SERMON X. THE DOXOLOGY Psalm viii. 1 and sqq. O Lord our Governor, how excellent is Thy name in all the earth, Thou that hast set Thy glory above the heavens! Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast Thou ordained strength, because of Thine enemies, that Thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger. This is the text which I have chosen to-day, because I think it will help us to understand the end of the Lord's Prayer, which tells us to say to our Father in Heaven, 'Father, Thine is the kingdom; Father, Thine is the power; Father, Thine is the glory.' The man who wrote this psalm had been looking up at the sky, spangled with countless stars, with the moon, as if she were the queen of them all, walking in her brightness. He had been looking round, too, on this wonderful earth, with its countless beasts, and birds, and insects, trees, herbs, and flowers, each growing, and thriving, and breeding after their kind, according to the law which God had given to each of them, without any help of man. And then he had thought of men, how small, weak, ignorant, foolish, sinful they were, and said to himself, 'Why should God care for men more than for these beasts, and birds, and insects round? Not because he is the largest and strongest thing in the world; for I will consider Thy heavens, even the work of Thy hands, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained, how much greater, more beautiful they are than poor human beings. May not glorious beings, angels, be dwelling in them, compared to whom man is no better than a beast?' And yet he says to himself, 'I know that God, though He has put man lower than the angels, has crowned him with glory and honour. I know that, whatever glorious creatures may live in the sun, and moon, and stars, God has given man the dominion and power here, on _this_ world. I know that even to babes and sucklings God has given a strength, because of His enemies--that He may silence the enemy and the avenger; and I know that by so doing, God has set His glory _above_ the heavens, and has shown forth His glory more in these little children, to whom He gives strength and wisdom, than He has in sun, and moon, and stars.' Now how is that? The Catechism, I think, will tell us. The Doxology, at the end of the Lord's Prayer, will tell us, if we consider it. If you will listen to me, I will try and show you what I mean. Suppose I took one of your children, and showed him that large bright star, which you may see now every evening, shining in the south-west, and said to him, 'My child, that star, which looks to you only a bright speck, is in reality a world--a world fourteen hundred times as big as our world. We have but one moon to light our earth; that little speck has four moons, each of them larger than ours, which light it by night. That little speck of a star seems to you to be standing still; in reality, it is travelling through the sky at the rate of 25,000 miles an hour.' What do you think the child's feeling would be? If he were a dull child, he might only be astonished; but if he were a sensible and thoughtful child, do you not think that a feeling of awe, almost of fear, would come over him, when he thought how small and weak and helpless he was, in comparison of those mighty and glorious stars above his head? And next, if I turned the child round, and bade him look at that comet or fiery star, which has appeared lately low down in the north-west, and said, 'My child, that comet, which seems to you to hang just above the next parish, is really eighty millions of miles off from us. That bright spot at the lower part of it is a fiery world as large as the moon,--that tail of fiery light which you see streaming up from it, and which looks a few feet long, is a stream of fiery vapour, stretching, most likely, hundreds of thousands of miles through the boundless space. It seems to you to be sinking behind the trees, so slowly that you cannot see it move. It is really rushing towards us now, with its vast train of light, at the rate of some eighty thousand miles an hour.' And suppose then, if, to make the child more astonished than ever, I went on--'Yes, my child, every single tiny star which is twinkling over your head is a sun, a sun as large, or larger than our own sun, perhaps with worlds moving round it, as our world moves round our sun, but so many millions of miles far off, that the strongest spy-glass cannot make these stars look any larger, or show us the worlds which we believe are moving round them.' Do you not think that just in proportion to the child's quickness and understanding, he would be awed, almost terrified? And lastly, suppose that to puzzle and astonish him still more, I took a chance drop of water out of any standing pool, and showed him through a magnifying-glass, in that single drop of water, dozens, perhaps hundreds, of living creatures so small that it is impossible to see them with the naked eye, each of them of some beautiful and wonderful shape, unlike anything which you ever saw or dreamed of, but each of them alive, each of them moving, feeding, breeding, after its kind, each fulfilling the nature which God has given to them, and told him, 'All the whole world, the air which you breathe, the leaves on the trees, the soil under your feet, ay, even often the food which you eat, and your own flesh and blood, are as full of wonderful things as that drop of water is. You fancy that all the life in the world is made up of the men and women in it, and the few beasts, and birds, and insects, which you see about you in the fields. But these living things which you do see are not a millionth part of the whole number of God's creatures; and not one smallest plant or tiniest insect dies, but what it passes into a new life, and becomes food for other creatures, even smaller than, though just as wonderful as itself. Every day fresh living creatures are being discovered, filling earth, and sea, and air, till men's brains are weary with counting them, and dizzy with watching their unspeakable beauty, and strangeness, and fitness for the work which God has given each of them to do.' And then suppose I said to the child, 'God cares for each of these tiny living creatures. How do you know that He does not care for them as much as He does for you? God made them for His own pleasure, that He might rejoice in the work of His own hands. How do you know that He does not rejoice in them as much as in you? Those mighty worlds and suns above your head, which you call stars, how do you know that they are not as much more glorious and precious in God's sight than you are, as they are larger and more beautiful than you are? And mind! all these things, from the tiniest insects in the water-drop, to the most vast star or comet in the sky, all obey God. They have not fallen, as you have; they have not sinned, as you have; they have not broken the law, by which God intended them to live, as you have. The Bible tells you so; and the discoveries of learned men prove that the Bible is right, when it declares that they all continue to this day according to His ordinance; for all things serve Him; that sun, and moon, and stars, and light are praising Him; that fire and hail, snow and vapour, wind and storm, mountains and all hills, fruitful trees and all cedars, beasts and all cattle, worms and feathered fowl, are showing forth His glory day and night; because He has made them sure for ever and ever, each according to its kind, and given them a law which shall not be broken; for all His works praise Him, and show the glory of His kingdom, and the mightiness of His power, that His power, His glory, and the mightiness of His kingdom might be known unto the children of men. And you!--They keep God's ordinance, and you have broken it; they fulfil God's word, you fulfil your own fancies. They have a law which shall not be broken, you break God's law daily. Are not they better than you? Is not, not merely sun and stars, but even the meanest gnat which hums in the air, better than man, more worthy of God's love than man? For man has sinned, and they have not.' Do you not think that I should sadden, and terrify the child, and make him ready to cry out, 'Whither shall I flee from the wrath of this great Almighty God; who has made this wondrous heaven and earth, and all of it obeys Him, except me--I a rebel against Him who made and rules all this?' My friends, I only say, suppose that I spoke thus to your children. For God forbid that I should speak thus to any human being, without having first taught him the Lord's Prayer, without first having taught him to say, 'I believe in Jesus Christ, Very God of Very God, who was born of the Virgin Mary, and took man's nature on Him;' without having taught him to say, 'Our Father which art in heaven, Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever, Amen.' So it is, and so let it be: for so it is well, and so I am safe, sinner and rebel though I be. I would not say it, unless I had taught him this; for then I should be speaking the Devil's words, and doing the Devil's work: for these are the thoughts of which he always takes advantage, whenever he finds them in men's hearts; because he is the enemy who hates men, and the avenger who punishes them for their bad thoughts, by leading them on into dark and fearful deeds; because he is the Devil, the Slanderer, as his name means, and slanders God to men, and tries always to make them believe that God does not care for men, and grudges them blessings; in order that he may make men dread God, and shrink from Him into their own pride, or their own carnal lusts and fancies. These are the thoughts of which the Devil took advantage in the heathen in old times, and tempted them to forget God--God, who had not left Himself without a witness, in that He gave them rain and fruitful seasons, filling their hearts with food and gladness--God, whose unseen glory, even His eternal power and Godhead, may be clearly seen from the creation of the world, being understood from the things which are made--God, in whom, as St. Paul told the heathen, they lived and moved, and had their being, and were the offspring of God. This--that man is the offspring of God, and has a Father in heaven--is the great truth which the Devil has been trying to hide from men in every age, and by a hundred different devices. By making them forget this, he tempted them to worship the creature instead of the Creator; to pray to sun and moon and stars, to send them fair weather, good crops, prosperous fortune: to look up to the heaven above them, and down to the earth beneath their feet, in slavish dread and anxiety: and pray to the sun, not to blast them to the seas, not to sweep them away; to the rivers and springs, not to let them perish from drought; to earthquakes, not to swallow them up; ay, even to try to appease those dark fierce powers, with whom they thought the great awful world was filled, by cruel sacrifices of human beings; so that they offered their sons and their daughters to devils, and burned their own children in the fire to Moloch, the cruel angry Fire King, whom they fancied was lord of the earthquakes and the burning mountains. So did the Canaanites of old, and so did the Jews after them; whensoever they had forgotten that God was their Father, who had bought them, and that the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, throughout heaven and earth, were His, then at once they began to be afraid of heaven and earth, and worshipped Baalim, and Astaroth, and the Host of Heaven, which were the sun and moon and stars, and Moloch the Fire King, and Thammuz the Lord of the Spring-time, and with forms of worship which showed plainly enough, either by their cruelty or their filthy profligacy, who was the author of them, and that man, when he forgets that heaven and earth belong to his Father, is in danger of becoming a slave to his own lowest lusts and passions. And do not fancy, my friends, that because you and I are not likely to worship sun and moon and stars as the old heathen did, that therefore we cannot commit the same sin as they did. My friends, I believe that we are in more danger of committing it in England just now than ever we were; that learned men especially are in danger of so doing, because they know so far more of the wonders and the vastness of God's creation than the heathens of old knew. But you are not learned, you will say: you are plain people, who know nothing about these wonderful discoveries which men make by telescopes and magnifying-glasses, but use your own eyes in a plain way to get your daily bread, and you feel no such temptations. You believe, of course, that the kingdom and power and glory of all we see is God's. Yes; but do you believe too that He whom people are too apt to call God, just because they have no other name to call Him, is your Father? That it is your Father's will which governs the weather, which makes the earth bear fruit and gladden the heart of man with good and fruitful seasons? Alas, my friends, if we will open our eyes, see things in their true light, and call things by their true name, we shall see many a man in England now honouring the creature more than the Creator; trusting in the seasons and the soil more than he does in God, and so sinning in just the same way as the heathen of old. When people say to themselves, 'I must get land, I must get money, by any means; honestly if I can, if not, dishonestly; for have it I must;' what are they doing then but denying that the kingdom, the power, and the glory of this earth belong to the Righteous God, and that He, and not the lying Devil, gives them to whomsoever He will? When people say to themselves (as who does not at moments?) 'To be rich is to be safe; a man's life does consist in the abundance of what he possesses;' what are they doing but saying that man does _not_ live by every word which proceeds out of the mouth of God, but by what he can get for himself and keep for himself? When they are fretful and anxious about their crops, when they even repine and complain of Providence, as I have known men do because they do not prosper as they wish, what are they doing but saying in their hearts, 'The weather and the seasons are the lords and masters of my good fortune, or bad fortune. I depend on them, and not on God, for comfort and for wealth, and my Heavenly Father does _not_ know what I have need of?' When parents send their girls out to field-work, without any care about whom they talk with, to have their minds corrupted by hearing filthiness and seeing immodest behaviour, what are they doing but offering their daughters in sacrifice, not even to Moloch, but to Mammon; saying to themselves, 'My daughter's modesty, my daughter's virtue, is not of as much value as the paltry money which I can earn by leaving her alone to learn wickedness, instead of keeping watch over her, if she does work, that she may be none the worse for her day's labour.' I might go on and give you a thousand instances more, but they all come alike to this; that whensoever you fancy that you cannot earn your daily bread without doing wrong yourself, or leaving your children to learn wrong, then you do not believe that the kingdom, the power, and the glory of this earth on which you work is your Heavenly Father's. For if you did, you would be certain that gains, large or small, got by breaking the least of His commandments, could never prosper you, but must bring a curse and a punishment with them; and you would be sure also, that because God is your Father, and this earth and all herein is His, that He would feed you with food sufficient for you, if you do but seek first His kingdom--that is, try to learn His laws; and seek first His righteousness--that is, strive and pray day by day to become righteous even as He is righteous. Yes, my friends, this is one meaning, though only one, of St. John's words, 'This is the victory which overcometh the world, even our faith.' We all see the world full of pleasant things, for which we long; of necessary things, too, without which we should starve and die. And then the temptation comes to us to snatch at these things for ourselves by any means in our power, right or wrong; like the dumb animals who break out of their owners' field into the next, if they do but see better pasturage there, or fight and quarrel between themselves for food, each trying to get the most for himself and rob his neighbour. So live the beasts, and so you and I, and every human being shall be tempted to live, if we follow our natures, if we forget that we are God's children, in God's kingdom, under the laws of a Heavenly Father, who has shown forth His own love and justice, His own kingdom, and power, and glory, in the person of the Lord Jesus Christ. But if we remember that, if we remember daily that the kingdom, and power, and glory is our Father's, then we shall neither fear storms and blights, bad crops, or anything else which is of the earth earthly. We shall fear nothing of that kind, which can only kill the body, but only fear the evil Devil, lest, by making us distrust and disobey our Heavenly Father, he should, after he has killed, destroy both body and soul in hell. And as long as we fear him, as long as we renounce him, as long as we trust utterly in our Heavenly Father's love and justice, and in the love and justice of His dear Son, the Man Christ Jesus, to whom all power is given in heaven and earth--then out of the youngest child among us will God's praise be perfected; for the youngest child among us, by faith in God his Father, may look upon all heaven and earth, and say, 'Great, and wonderful, and awful as this earth and skies may be, I am more precious in the sight of God than sun, and moon, and stars; for they are things: but I am a person, a spirit, an immortal soul, made in the likeness of God, redeemed into the likeness of God, sanctified into the likeness of God. This great earth was here thousands and thousands of years before I was born, and it will be here perhaps millions and millions of years after I am dead; but it cannot harm _me_; it cannot kill _me_. When earth, and sun, and stars are past away, I shall live for ever; for I am the immortal child of an Immortal Father, the child of the everlasting God. These things He only made: but me He begot unto everlasting life, in Jesus Christ my Lord. I seem to depend on this earth for food, for clothing, for comfort, for life itself: and yet I do not do so in reality; for man doth not live by bread alone, but by _every_ word which proceeds out of the mouth of God my Father. In Him I have eternal life: a life which this earth did not give, and cannot take away; a life which, by the mercy of my Father in heaven, I trust and hope to be living when sun and earth, stars and comets, are returned again to their dust, and blotted from the face of heaven. For the kingdom, the glory, and the power of this world, and all other worlds, past, present, and to come, belong to Him who spared not His only-begotten Son, but freely gave Him for us, and will with Him freely give us all things.' And thus, my friends, may God's praise be perfected out of the mouth of any Christian child, when He declares that God put man a little lower than the angels only to crown him with the glory and worship of having the only-begotten Son of God take man's nature upon Him, and walk this earth as a man, and live, and die, and rise again as a man, that so He might raise fallen man again to the glory and honour which God appointed for men from the beginning, when He said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and the fowl of the air, and the beast of the earth; and be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth and subdue it. SERMON XI. AHAB AND NABOTH 1 Kings xxi. 2, 3. And Ahab spake unto Naboth, saying, Give me thy vineyard, that I may have it for a garden of herbs, because it is near unto my house: and I will give thee for it a better vineyard than it; or, if it seem good to thee, I will give thee the worth of it in money. And Naboth said unto Ahab, The Lord forbid it me, that I should give the inheritance of my fathers unto thee. You heard to-day read for the first lesson, the story of Naboth and King Ahab. Most of you know it well. Naboth's vineyard has passed into a proverb for something which we covet. It is good that it should be so. We cannot know our Bible too well; we cannot have Bible words and Bible thoughts too much worked into our ways of talking and thinking about everyday matters. As far as I can see, the best days of England, the best days of every Christian country of which I ever read, have been days when men were not ashamed of their Bibles; when they were ready to live by their Bibles; to ask advice of their Bibles about buying and selling, about making war and peace, about all the business of life; and were not ashamed to quote texts of Scripture in the parliament, and in the market, and in the battle-field, as God's law, God's rule, God's word about the matter in hand, which was, therefore, sure to be the right word and the right rule. People are grown ashamed of doing so now-a-days; but that does not alter the matter one jot. We may deny God, but He cannot deny Himself. His laws are everlasting, and He is ruling and judging us by them now, all day long, just as much as He ruled and judged those Jews by them of old. The God of Abraham is our God; the God of Moses is our God; the God of Ahab and Naboth is our God; neither He nor His government are altered in the least since their time, and they never will alter for ever, and ever, and ever; and if we do not choose to believe that now in this life, we shall be made to believe it by some very ugly and painful schooling in the life to come. What laws of God, now, can we learn from this story? First, we may learn what a sacred thing _property_ is. That a man's possessions (if they be justly come by) belong to him, in the sight of God as well as in the sight of man, and that God will uphold and avenge the man's right. Naboth, you see, stands simply on his right to his own property. 'The Lord forbid it me, that I should give the inheritance of my fathers unto thee.' I do not think that he meant that God had actually forbidden him: it seems to have been only some sort of oath which he used. He may certainly have had reasons for thinking it wrong to part with his lands; hurtful, perhaps, to his family after him. Yet, as Ahab had promised him a better vineyard for it, or its worth in money, I cannot help thinking that Naboth's reason was the one which shows on the face of his words. It was the inheritance of his fathers, this vineyard. They had all worked in it, generation after generation; perhaps, according to the Jewish custom, they were buried somewhere in it; at least, it had been theirs and now was his; he had worked in it, and played in it-- perhaps since he was a child--and he loved it; it was part and parcel of his father's house to him, a sacred spot. And so it should be. It is a holy feeling which makes a man cling to the bit of land which he has inherited from his parents, even to the cottage, though it be only a hired one, where he has lived for many a year, and where he has planted and tilled, perhaps with some that he loved, who are now dead and gone, or grown up and gone out into the world, till the little old cottage-garden is full of remembrances to him of past joys and past sorrows. The feeling which makes a man cling to his home and to his own land is a good feeling, and breeds good in the man. It makes him respect himself; it keeps him from being reckless and unsettled. It is a feeling which should not be broken through. It is seldom pleasant to see land change hands; it is seldom pleasant to see people turned out of their cottages. It must often be so, but let it be as seldom as possible. One likes to see a family take root in a place, and grow and thrive there, one generation after another; and you will find, my friends, that families do take root and thrive in a place just in proportion as they fear God and do righteousness. The Psalms tell you, again and again, that the way to abide in the land, and prosper in it, is to trust in the Lord and be doing good; and that the wicked are soon rooted out, and their names perish out of the land. One sees that come true daily. But to return to Naboth. He loved his own land, and therefore he had a right to keep it. We may say it was but a fancy of his, if he could have a better vineyard, or the worth of it in money. Remember, at least, that God respected that fancy of his, and justified it, and avenged it. When (after Naboth's death) Elijah accused Ahab, in God's name, he put two counts into the indictment; for Ahab had committed two sins. 'Hast thou killed, and also taken possession?' Killing was one sin; taking possession was another. And so Ahab learnt two weighty and bitter lessons. He learnt that God's Law stands for ever, though man's law be broken or be forgotten by disuse. For you must understand, that these Jews were a free people, even as we are. They were not like the nations round about them, or as the Russians are now--slaves to their king, and holding their property only at his will. The law of Moses had made them a free people, who held their property each man from God, by God's Law, which had said, 'Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not covet. Cursed is he who removes his neighbour's landmark.' And their kings were bound to govern by Moses' law, just as our kings and rulers are bound to govern by the old constitutions of England, and to do equal justice by rich and poor. But the wicked kings of Israel were trying to break through that law, and make themselves tyrants and despots, such as the Czar of Russia is now. First, Jeroboam began by trying to wean his people from Moses' law, by preventing their going up to worship at Jerusalem, and making them worship instead the golden calves at Dan and at Bethel. For he knew that if he could make idolaters of them, he should soon make slaves of them; and he succeeded; and the kingdom of Israel grew more miserable year by year; and now Ahab, his wicked successor, was breaking down the laws of property and wrongfully taking away his subjects' lands. Perhaps he said in his heart, 'I am king; there is no law stronger than I. I have a right to do what I like.' If he did so, he found that he was mistaken. He found that though he forgot Moses' law, God had not; that the law stood there still, because it was founded on eternal justice, which proceeds for ever out of the mouth of God; and by the Law, which he had chosen to forget, he was judged; by the Law of God, which deals equal justice to rich and poor, which is, like God Himself, no acceptor of persons; but says, 'Thou shalt not covet,' to the king upon his throne as sternly as to the beggar on the dunghill. And that Law stands still, my friends, doubt it not. Thanks to the wisdom and justice of our forefathers who built the laws of England on those old Ten Commandments, which hang for a sign thereof in every church to this day. Thanks to them, I say, and to God, the root of the law of England is, equal justice between man and man, be he high or low; and it is a thing to bless God for every day of our lives, that here the poor man's little is as safe as the rich man's wealth: but there is many a sin of oppression, many a sin of covetousness, my friends, which no law of man can touch. Make laws as artfully as you will, bad men can always slip through them, and escape the spirit of them, while they obey the letter: and I suppose it will be so to the world's end; and that, let the laws be as perfect as they may, if any man wishes to cheat or oppress his neighbour, he will surely be able to work his wicked will in some way or other. Well then, my friends, if man's law is weak, God's is not;--if man's law has flaws and gaps in it, through which covetousness can creep, God's has none;--even if (which God forbid) man's law died out, and sinners were left to sin without fear of punishment, still God's Law stands sure, and the eye of the living God slumbers not, and the hand of the living God never grows weary, and out of the everlasting heaven His voice is saying, day and night, for ever, 'I endure for ever. I sit on the throne judging right; a sceptre of righteousness is the sceptre of My kingdom. I judge the world in justice, and minister true judgment unto the people. I also will be a refuge for the oppressed, even a refuge in due time of trouble.' O hear those words, my friends! hear and obey, if you love life, and wish to see good days; and never, never say a thing is right, simply because the law cannot punish you for it. Never say in your hearts when you are tempted to be hard, cruel, covetous, over-reaching, 'What harm? I break no law by it.' There is a law, whether you see it or not; you break a law, whether you confess it or not; a law which is as a wall of iron clothed with thunder, though man's law be but a flimsy net of thread; and that law, and not any Acts of Parliament, shall judge you in the day when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, and every man shall receive the due reward of the deeds done in the body, not according as they were allowed or not by the Statute Book, but according as they were good or evil. Another lesson we may learn from this story: that if we give way to our passions, we give way to the Devil also. Ahab gave way to his passion; he knew that he was wrong; for when Naboth refused to sell him the vineyard, he did not dare openly to rob him of it; he went to his house heavy of heart, and fretted, like a spoilt child, because he could not get what he wanted. It was but a little thing, and he might have been content to go without it. He was king of all Israel, and what was one small vineyard more or less to him? But prosperity had spoilt him; he must needs have every toy on which he set his heart, and he was weak enough to fret that he could not get more, when he had too much already. But he knew that he could not get it; that, king as he was, Naboth's property was his own, and that God's everlasting Law stood between him and the thing he coveted. Well for him if he had been contented with fretting. But, my friends--and be you rich or poor, take heed to my words--whenever any man gives way to selfishness, and self-seeking, to a proud, covetous, envious, peevish temper, the Devil is sure to glide up and whisper in his ear thoughts which will make him worse--worse, ay, than he ever dreamt of being. First comes the flesh, and then the Devil; and if the flesh opens the door of the heart, the Devil steps in quickly enough. First comes the flesh: fleshly, carnal pride at being thwarted; fleshly, carnal longing for a thing, which longs all the more for it because one cannot have it; fleshly, carnal peevishness and ill-temper, at not having just the pleasant thing one happens to like. That is a state of mind which is a bird-call for all the devils; and when they see a man in that temper, they flock to him, I believe, as crows do to carrion. It is astonishing, humbling, awful, my friends, what horrible thoughts will cross one's mind if once one gives way to that selfish, proud, angry, longing temper; thoughts of which we are ashamed the next moment; temptations to sin at which we shudder, they seem so unlike ourselves, not parts of ourselves at all. When the dark fit is past, one can hardly believe that such wicked thoughts ever crossed one's mind. I don't think that they are part of ourselves; I believe them to be the whispers of the Devil himself; and when they pass away, I believe that it is the Lord Jesus Christ who drives them away. But if any man gives way to them, determines to keep his sullenness, and so gives place to the Devil; then those thoughts do not pass; they take hold of a man, possess him, as the Bible calls it, and make him in his madness do things which--alas! who has not done things in his day, of which he has repented all his life after?--things for which he would gladly cut off his right hand for the sake of being able to say, 'I never did that?' But the thing is done--done to all eternity: he has given place to the Devil, and the Devil has made him do in five minutes work which he could not undo in five thousand years; and all that is left is, when he comes to himself, to cast himself on God's boundless mercy, and Christ's boundless atonement, and cry, 'My sins are like scarlet, Thou alone canst make them whiter than snow: my sin is ever before me; only let it not be ever before Thee, O God! Punish me, if thou seest fit; but oh forgive, for there is mercy with Thee, and infinite redemption!' And, thanks be to God's great love, he will not cry in vain. Yet, oh, my friends, do not give place to the Devil, unless you wish, forgiven or not, to repent of it to the latest day you live. And this was Ahab's fate. He knew, I say, that he was wrong; he knew that Naboth's property was his own, and dare not openly rob him of it; and he went to his house, heavy of heart, and refused to eat; and while he was in such a temper as that, the Devil lost no time in sending an evil spirit to him. It was a woman whom he sent, Jezebel, Ahab's own wife: but she was, as far as we can see, a woman of a devilish spirit, cruel, proud, profligate, and unjust, as well as a worshipper of the filthy idols of the Canaanites. Ahab's first sin was in having married this wicked heathen woman: now his sin punished itself; she tempted him through his pride and self- conceit; she taunted him into sin: 'Dost thou now govern the kingdom of Israel? I will give thee the vineyard of Naboth.' You all remember how she did so; by falsely accusing Naboth of blasphemy. Ahab seems to have taken no part in Naboth's murder. Perhaps he was afraid; but he was a weak man, and Jezebel was a strong and fierce spirit, and ruled him, and led him in this matter, as she did in making him worship idols with her; and he was content to be led. He was content to let others do the wickedness he had not courage to carry out himself. He forgot that, as is well said, 'He who does a thing by another, does it by himself;' that if you let others sin for you, you sin for yourself. Would to God, my friends, that we would all remember this! How often people wink at wrong-doing in those with whom they have dealings, in those whom they employ, in their servants, in their children, because it is convenient to them. They shut their eyes, and their hearts too, and say to themselves, 'At all events, it is his doing and not mine; and it is his concern; I am not answerable for other people's sins. I would not do such a thing myself, certainly; but as it is done, I may as well make the best of it. If I gain by it, I need not be so very sharp in looking into the matter.' And so you see men who really wish to be honest and kindly themselves, making no scruple of profiting by other people's dishonesty and cruelty. Now the law punishes the receiver of stolen goods almost as severely as the thief himself: but there are many receivers of stolen goods, my friends, whom the law cannot touch. The world, at times, seems to me to be full of them; for every one, my friends, who hushes up a cruel or a dishonest matter, because he himself is a gainer by it, he is no better than the receiver of stolen goods, and he will find in the day of the Lord, that the sin will lie at his door, as Jezebel's sin lay at Ahab's. There was no need for Ahab to say, 'Jezebel did it, and not I.' The prophet did not even give him time to excuse himself: 'Thus saith the Lord, Hast thou killed, and also taken possession?' By taking possession of Naboth's vineyard, and so profiting by his murder, he made himself partaker in that murder, and had to hear the terrible sentence, 'In the place where dogs licked the blood of Naboth, dogs shall lick thy blood, even thine.' Oh, my friends, whatsoever you do, keep clean hands and a pure heart. If you touch pitch, it will surely stick to you. Let no gain tempt you to be partaker of others men's sins; never fancy that, because men cannot lay the blame on the right person, God cannot. God will surely lay the burden on the man who helped to make the burden; God will surely require part payment from the man who profited by the bargain; so keep yourselves clear of other men's sins, that you may be clear also of their condemnation. So Ahab had committed a horrible and great sin, and had received sentence for it, and now, as I said before, there was nothing to be done but to repent; and he did so, after his fashion. Ahab, it seems, was not an utterly bad man; he was a weak man, fond of his own pleasure, a slave to his own passions, and easily led, sometimes to good, but generally to evil. And God did not execute full vengeance on him: his repentance was a poor one enough; but such as it was, the good and merciful God gave him credit for it as far as it went, and promised him that the worst part of his sentence, the ruin of his family, should not come in his time. But still the sentence against him stood, and was fulfilled. Not long after, as we read in the second lesson, he was killed in battle, and that not bravely and with honour (for if he had been, that would have been but a slight punishment, my friends), but shamefully by a chance shot, after he had disguised himself, in the cowardice of his guilty conscience, and tried to throw all the danger on his ally, good King Jehoshaphat of Judah; 'and they washed his chariot in the pool of Samaria, and the dogs licked up his blood, according to the word of the Lord, which he spake by Elijah the prophet.' So ends one of the most clear and terrible stories in the whole Bible, of God's impartial justice. May God give us all grace to lay it to heart! We are all tempted, as Ahab was; rich or poor, our temptation is alike to give place to the Devil, and let him lead us into dark and deep sin, by giving way to our own fancies, longings, pride, and temper. We are all tempted, as Ahab was, to over-reach our neighbours in some way; I do not mean always in cheating them, but in being unfair to them, in caring more for ourselves than for them; thinking of ourselves first, and of them last; trying to make ourselves comfortable, or to feed our own pride, at their expense. Oh, my friends, whenever we are tempted to be selfish and grasping, be sure that we are opening a door to the very Devil of hell himself, though he may look so smooth, and gentle, and respectable, that perhaps we shall not know him when he comes to us, and shall take his counsels for the counsel of an angel of light. But be sure that if it is selfishness which has opened the door of our heart, not God, but the Devil, will come in, let him disguise himself as cunningly as he will; and our only hope is to flee to Him in whom there was no selfishness, the Lord Jesus Christ, who came not to do His own will, but His Father's; not to glorify Himself, but His Father; not to save His own life, but to sacrifice it freely, for us, His selfish, weak, greedy, wandering sheep. Pray to Him to give you His Spirit, that glorious spirit of love, and duty, and self- sacrifice, by which all the good deeds on earth are done; which teaches a man not to care about himself, but about others; to help others, to feel for others, to rejoice in their happiness, to grieve over their sorrows, to give to them, rather than take from them--in one word, The Holy Spirit of God, which may He pour out on you, and me, and all mankind, that we may live justly and lovingly, as children of one just and loving Father in heaven. SERMON XII. THE LIGHT OF GOD [Preached for the Chelsea National Schools.] Ephesians v. 13. All things which are reproved are made manifest by the light: for whatsoever is made manifest is light. This is a noble text, a royal text; one of those texts which forbid us to clip and cramp Scripture to suit any narrow notions of our own; which open before us boundless vistas of God's love, of human knowledge, of the future of mankind. There are many such texts, many more than we fancy; but this is one which is especially valuable at the present time; one especially fit for a sermon on education; for it is, as it were, the scriptural charter of the advocate of education. It enables him boldly to say, 'There is nothing I will refuse to teach; there is nothing which man shall forbid me to teach; there is nothing which God has made in heaven or earth about which I will not tell the truth boldly to the young.' For light comes from God. God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. And therefore He wishes to give light to His children. He willeth not that the least of them should be kept in darkness about any matter. Darkness is of the Devil; and he who keeps any human soul in darkness, let his pretences be as reverent and as religious as they may, is doing the Devil's work. Nothing, then, which God has made will we conceal from the young. True, there are errors of which we will not speak to the young; but they are not made by God: they are the works of darkness. Our duty is to teach the young what God has made, what He has done, what He has ordained; to make them freely partakers of whatsoever light God has given us. Then, by means of that light, they will be able to reprove the works of darkness. For whatsoever is made manifest is light. Our version says; 'Whatsoever makes manifest is light.' That is true, a noble truth; but I should not be honest, if I did not confess that that is not what St. Paul says here. He says, 'That which _is_ made manifest is light.' On this the best commentators and scholars agree. Our old translators have made a mistake, though in grammar only, and have substituted one great truth for another equally great. 'Whatsoever is made manifest is light.' We should have expected this, if we are really Christians. If we have faith in God; if we believe that God is worthy of our faith--a God whom we can trust; in whom is neither caprice, deceit, nor darkness, but pure and perfect light;--if we believe that we are His children, and that He wishes us to be, like Himself, full of light, knowing what we are and what the world is, because we know who God is;--if we believe that He sent His Son into the world to reveal Him, to unveil Him, to draw aside the veil which dark superstition and ignorance had spread between man and God, and to show us the glory of God;--if we believe this, then we shall be ready to expect that whatsoever is made manifest would be light; for if God be light, all that He has made must be light also. Like must beget like, and therefore light must beget light, good beget good, love beget love; and therefore we ought to expect that as true and sound knowledge increases, our views of God will be more full of light. Yes, my friends; under the influence of true science God will be no longer looked upon, as He was in those superstitions which we well call dark, as a proud, angry, capricious being, as a stern taskmaster, as one far removed from the sympathy of men: but as one of whom we may cheerfully say, Thy name be hallowed, for Thy name is Father; Thy kingdom come, for it is a Father's kingdom; Thy will be done, for it is a Father's will; and in doing Thy will alone men claim their true dignity of being the sons of God. Our views of our fellow-men will be more cheerful also; more full of sympathy, comprehension, charity, hope; in one word, more full of light. If it be true (and it is true) that God loves all, then we should expect to find in all something worthy of our love. If it be true that God willeth that none should perish, we should expect to find in each man something which ought not to perish. If it be true that God stooped from heaven, yea stoops from heaven eternally, to seek and to save that which is lost, then we should have good hope that our efforts to seek to save that which is lost will not be in vain. We shall have hope in every good work we undertake, for we shall know that in it we are fellow-workers with God. Our notions of the world--of God's whole universe, will become full of light likewise. Do we believe that this earth was made by Jesus Christ?--by Him who was full of grace and truth? Do we believe our Bibles, when they tell us, that He hath given all created things a law which cannot be broken; that they continue as at the beginning, for all things serve Him? Do we believe this? Then we must look on this earth, yea on the whole universe of God, as, like its Master, full of grace and truth; not as old monks and hermits fancied it, a dark, deceiving, evil earth, filled with snares and temptations; a world from which a man ought to hide himself in the wilderness, and find his own safety in ignorance. Not thus, but as the old Hebrews thought of it, as a glorious and a divine universe, in which the Spirit of God, the Lord and Giver of life, creates eternal melody, bringing for ever life out of death, light out of darkness, letting his breath go forth that new generations may be made, and herein renew the face of the earth. And experience teaches us that this has been the case; that for near one thousand eight hundred years there has been a steady progress in the mind of the Christian race, and that this progress has been in the direction of light. Has it not been so in our notions of God? What has the history of theology been for near one thousand eight hundred years? Has it not been a gradual justification of God, a gradual vindication of His character from those dark and horrid notions of the Deity which were borrowed from the Pagans, and from the Jewish Rabbis? a gradual return to the perfect good news of a good God, which was preached by St. John and by St. Paul?--In one word, a gradual manifestation of God; and a gradual discovery that when God is manifested, behold, God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all? That progress, alas! is not yet perfect. We still see through a glass darkly, and we are still too apt to impute to God Himself the darkness of those very hearts of ours in which He is so dimly mirrored. And there are men still, even in Protestant England, who love darkness rather than light, and teach men that God is dark, and in Him are only scattered spots of light, and those visible only to a favoured few; men who, whether from ignorance, or covetousness, or lust of power, preach such a deity as the old Pharisees worshipped, when they crucified the Lord of Glory, and offer to deliver men, forsooth, out of the hands of this dreadful phantom of their own dark imaginations. Let them be. Let the dead bury their dead, and let us follow Christ. Believe indeed that He is the likeness of God's glory, and the express image of God's person, and you will be safe from the dark dreams with which they ensnare diseased and superstitious consciences. Let them be. Light is stronger than darkness; Love stronger than cruelty. Perfect God stronger than fallen man; and the day shall come when all shall be light in the Lord; when all mankind shall know God, from the least unto the greatest, and lifting up free foreheads to Him who made them, and redeemed them by His Son, shall in spirit and in truth, worship The Father. Does not experience again show us that in the case of our fellow- men, whatsoever is made manifest, is light? How easy it was, a thousand years ago--a hundred years ago even, to have dark thoughts about our fellow-men, simply because we did not know them! Easy it was, while the nations were kept apart by war, even by mere difficulty of travelling, for Christians to curse Jews, Turks, Infidels, and Heretics, and believe that God willed their eternal perdition, even though the glorious collect for Good Friday gave their inhumanity the lie. Easy to persecute those to whose opinions we could not, or would not, take the trouble to give a fair hearing. Easy to condemn the negro to perpetual slavery, when we knew nothing of him but his black face; or to hang by hundreds the ragged street-boys, while we disdained to inquire into the circumstances which had degraded them; or to treat madmen as wild beasts, instead of taming them by wise and gentle sympathy. But with a closer knowledge of our fellow-creatures has come toleration, pity, sympathy. And as that sympathy has been freely obeyed, it has justified itself more and more. The more we have tried to help our fellow-men, the more easy we have found it to help them. The more we have trusted them, the more trustworthy we have found them. The more we have treated them as human beings, the more humanity we have found in them. And thus man, in proportion as he becomes manifest to man, is seen, in spite of all defects and sins, to be hallowed with a light from God who made him. And if it has been thus, in the case of God and of humanity, has it not been equally so in the case of the physical world? Where are now all those unnatural superstitions--the monkish contempt for marriage and social life, the ghosts and devils; the astrology, the magic, and other dreams of which I will not speak here, which made this world, in the eyes of our forefathers, a doleful and dreadful puzzle; and which made man the sport of arbitrary powers, of cruel beings, who could torment and destroy us, but over whom we could have no righteous power in return? Where are all those dark dreams gone which maddened our forefathers into witch-hunting panics, and which on the Continent created a priestly science of witch-finding and witch-destroying, the literature whereof (and it is a large one) presents perhaps the most hideous instance known of human cruelty, cowardice, and cunning? Where, I ask, are those dreams now? So utterly vanished, that very few people in this church know what a great part they played in the thoughts of our forefathers; how ghosts, devils, witches, magic, and astrology, filled the minds, not only of the ignorant, but of the most learned, for centuries. And now, behold, nature being made manifest, is light. Science has taught men to admire where they used to dread; to rule where they used to obey; to employ for harmless uses what they were once afraid to touch; and, where they once saw only fiends, to see the orderly and beneficent laws of the all-good and almighty God. Everywhere, as the work of nature is unfolded to our eyes, we see beauty, order, mutual use, the offspring of perfect Love as well as perfect Wisdom. Everywhere we are finding means to employ the secret forces of nature for our own benefit, or to ward off physical evils which seemed to our forefathers as inevitable, supernatural; and even the pestilence, instead of being, as was once fancied, the capricious and miraculous infliction of some demon--the pestilence itself is found to be an orderly result of the same laws by which the sun shines and the herb grows; a product of nature; and therefore subject to man, to be prevented and extirpated by him, if he will. Yes, my friends, let us teach these things to our children, to all children. Let us tell them to go to the Light, and see their Heavenly Father's works manifested, and know that they are, as He is, _Light_. I say, let us teach our children freely and boldly to know these things, and grow up in the light of them. Let us leave those to sneer at the triumphs of modern science, who trade upon the ignorance and the cowardice of mankind, and who say, 'Provided you make a child religious, what matter if he does fancy the sun goes round the earth? Why occupy his head, perhaps disturb his simple faith, by giving him a smattering of secular science?' Specious enough is that argument: but shortsighted more than enough. It is of a piece with the wisdom which shrinks from telling children that God is love, lest they should not be sufficiently afraid of Him; which forbids their young hearts to expand freely towards their fellow-creatures: which puts into their mouths the watchwords of sects and parties, and thinks to keep them purer Christians by making them Pharisees from the cradle. My friends, we may try to train up children as Pharisees: but we shall discover, after twenty years of mistaken labour, that we have only made them Sadducees. The path to infidelity in manhood is superstition in youth. You may tell the child never to mind whether the sun moves round the earth or not: but the day will come when he will mind in spite of you; and if he then finds that you have deceived him, that you have even left him in wilful ignorance, all your moral influence over him is gone, and all your religious lessons probably gone also. So true is it, that lies are by their very nature self-destructive. For all truth is of God; and no lie is of the truth, and therefore no lie can possibly help God or God's work in any human soul. For as the child ceases to respect his teachers he ceases to respect what they believe. His innate instinct of truth and honour, his innate longing to believe, to look up to some one better than himself, have been shocked and shaken once and for all; and it may require long years, and sad years, to bring him back to the faith of his childhood. Again I say it, we must not fear to tell the children the whole truth; in these days above all others which the world has yet seen. You cannot prevent their finding out the truth: then for our own sake, let us, their authorized teachers, be the first to tell it them. Let them in after life connect the thought of their clergyman, their schoolmaster, their church, with their first lessons in the free and right use of their God-given faculties, with their first glimpses into the boundless mysteries of art and science. Let them learn from us to regard all their powers as their Heavenly Father's gift; all art, all science, all discoveries, as their Heavenly Father's revelation to men. Let them learn from us not to shrink from the light, not to peep at it by stealth, but to claim it as their birthright; to welcome it, to live and grow in it to the full stature of men--rational, free, Christian English men. This, I believe, must be the method of a truly Protestant education. I said Protestant--I say it again. What is the watchword of Protestantism? It is this. That no lie is of the truth. There are those who complain of us English that we attach too high a value to TRUTH. They say that falsehood is an evil: but not so great a one as we fancy. We accept the imputation. We answer boldly that there can be no greater evil than falsehood, no greater blessing than truth; and that by God's help we will teach the same to our children, and to our children's children. Free inquiry, religious as well as civil liberty--this is the spirit of Protestantism. This our fathers have bequeathed to us; this we will bequeath to our children;--to know that all truth is of God, that no lie is of the truth. Our enemies may call us heretics, unbelievers, rebellious, political squabblers. They may say in scorn, You Protestants know not whither you are going; you have broken yourselves off from the old Catholic tree, and now, in the wild exercise of your own private judgment, you are losing all that standard of doctrine, all unity of belief. Our answer will be--It is not so: but even if it were so-- even if we did not know whither we were going--we should go forward still. For though we know not, God knows. We have committed ourselves to God, the living God; and He has led us; and we believe that He will lead us. He has taught us; and we believe that He will teach us still. He has prospered us, and we believe that He will prosper us still: and therefore we will train up our children after us to go on the path which has brought us hither, freely to use their minds, boldly to prove all things, and hold fast that which is good; manfully to go forward, following Truth whithersoever she may lead them; trusting in God, the Father of Lights, asking Him for wisdom, who giveth to all liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given them. I have been asked to preach this day for the National Schools of this parish. I do so willingly, because I believe that in them this course of education is pursued, that conjoined with a sound teaching in the principles of our Protestant church, and a wholesome and kindly moral training, there is free and full secular instruction as far as the ages of the children will allow. Were it not the case, I could not plead for these schools; above all at this time, when the battle between ancient superstition and modern enlightenment in this land seems fast coming to a crisis and a death struggle. I could not ask you to help any school on earth in which I had not fair proof that the teachers taught, on physical and human as well as on moral subjects, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help them God. SERMON XIII. PROVIDENCE Matthew vi. 31, 32, 33. Be not anxious, saying, What shall we eat? or, what shall we drink, or wherewithal shall we be clothed? (for after all these things do the heathen seek:) for your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you. We must first consider carefully what this text really means; what 'taking no thought for the morrow' really is. Now, it cannot mean that we are to be altogether careless and imprudent; for all Scripture, and especially Solomon's Proverbs, give us the very opposite advice, and one part of God's Word cannot contradict the other. The whole of Solomon's Proverbs is made up of lessons in prudence and foresight; and surely our Lord did not come to do away with Solomon's Proverbs, but to fulfil them. And more, Solomon declares again and again, that prudence and foresight are the gifts of God; and God's gifts are surely meant to be used. Isaiah, too, tells us that the common work of the farm, tilling the ground, sowing, and reaping, were taught to men by God; and says of the ploughman, that 'His God doth instruct him to discretion and doth teach him.' Neither can God mean us to sit idle with folded hands waiting to be fed by miracles. Would He have given to man reason, and skill, and the power of bettering his mortal condition by ten thousand instructions if He had not meant him to use those gifts? We find that, at the beginning, Adam is put into the garden, not to sit idle in it, nor to feed merely on the fruits which fall from the trees, as the dumb animals do, but to dress it, and to keep it; to use his own reason to improve his own condition, and the land on which God had placed him. Was not the very first command given to man to replenish the earth and subdue it? And do we not find in the very end of Scripture the Apostles working with their own hands for their daily bread? But what use of many words? It is absurd to believe anything else; absurd to believe that man was meant to live like the butterfly, flitting without care from flower to flower, and, like the butterfly, die helpless at the first shower or the first winter's frost. Whatever the text means, it cannot mean that. And it does not mean that. I suppose, that three hundred years ago (when the Bible was translated out of the Greek tongue, in which the Apostles wrote, into English), 'taking thought' meant something different from what it does now: but the plain meaning of the text, if it be put into such English as we talk now, is, 'Do not _fret_ about the morrow. Be not anxious about the morrow.' There is no doubt at all, as any scholar can tell you, that that is the plain meaning of the word in our modern English, and that our Lord is not telling us to be imprudent or idle, but not to be anxious and fretful about the morrow. And more, I think if we look carefully at these words, we shall find that they tell us the very reason why we are to work, and to look forward, and to believe that God will bless our labour. And what is this reason? It is this, that we have a _Father_ in heaven; not a mere Maker, not a mere Master, but a _Father_. All turns on that one Gospel of all Gospels, _your Father in heaven_. For our Lord seems to me to say, 'Be not anxious for your life, what ye shall eat, or drink, or wear. Is not the life more than meat? Has not your Heavenly Father given you a higher life than the mere life which must be kept up by food, which He has given to the animals? He has made you reasonable souls; He has given to you wisdom from His own wisdom, and a share of the Light which lights every man who comes into the world, the Light of Christ His Son; He has created you in His own likeness, that like Him you may make things, be makers and inventors, each in his place and calling, each according to his talents and powers, even as your Heavenly Father, the Maker and Creator of all things. And if He has given you all these wonderful powers of mind and soul, surely He has given you the less blessing, the mere power to earn your own food? If He has made you so much wiser than the beasts, surely He has made you as wise as the beasts.' 'And is not the body more than raiment?' Has He not given you bodies which can speak, write, build, work, plant, in a thousand cunning and wonderful ways; bodies which can do a thousand nobler things than merely keep themselves warm, as the beasts do? Then be sure, if He has given you the greater power, He has given you the less also. And as for fine clothes and rich ornaments, 'Is not the body more than raiment?' Is not your body a far more beautiful and nobler thing than all the gay clothes with which you can bedizen it? If your bodies be fair, strong, healthy, useful, it matters little what clothes you put upon them. Why will you not have faith in your Heavenly Father? Why will you not have faith in the great honour which He put on you when He said at first, 'Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, and let him have dominion over all things on the earth'? Be sure, that God would not have made man, and given him all these powers, and sent him upon this earth, unless this earth had been a right good and fit place for him. Be sure that if you obey the laws of this earth where God has put you, you will never need to be anxious or fret; but you will prosper right well, you and your children after you. For 'Consider the fowls of the air, they neither sow, nor reap, and gather into barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them; and are ye not much better than they?' Surely you are, for you _can_ sow, and reap, and gather into barns. And if God makes the earth work so well that it feeds the fowls who cannot help themselves, how much more will the earth feed you who _can_ help yourselves, because God has given you understanding and prudence? But as for anxiety, fretting, repining, complaining to God, 'Why hast Thou made me thus?' what use in that? 'Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit to his stature?' Will all the fretting and anxiety in the world make you one foot or one inch taller than you are? Will it make you stronger, wiser, more able to help yourself? You are what you are: you can do what God has given you power to do. Trust Him that He has made you strong enough and wise enough to earn your daily bread, and to prosper right well, if you will, upon this earth which He has made. And why be anxious about clothing? 'Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.' But man _can_ toil, man _can_ spin; your Heavenly Father has given to man the power of providing clothes for himself, and not for himself only, but for others; so that while the man who tills the soil feeds the man who spins and weaves, the man who spins and weaves shall clothe the man who tills the soil; and the town shall work for the country, while the country feeds the town; and every man, if he does but labour where God has put him, shall produce comforts for human beings whom he never saw, who live perhaps in foreign lands across the sea. For the Heavenly Father has knit together the great family of man in one blessed bond of mutual need and mutual usefulness all over the world; so that no member of it can do without the other, and each member of it--each individual man--let him work at what thing he will, can make many times more of that thing than he needs for himself, and so help others while he earns his own living; and so wealth and comfort ought to increase year by year among the whole family of men, ay, and would increase, if it were not for sin. Yes, my friends, if it were not for that same _sin_--if it were not that men do not seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, there would be no end, no bound to the wealth, the comfort, the happiness of the children of men. Even as it is, in spite of all man's sin, the world does prosper marvellously, miraculously; in spite of all the waste, destruction, idleness, ignorance, injustice, and folly which goes on in the world, mankind increases and replenishes the earth, and improves in comfort and in happiness; in spite of all, God is stronger than the Devil, life stronger than death, wisdom stronger than folly, order stronger than disorder, fruitfulness stronger than destruction; and they will be so, more and more, till the last great day, when Christ shall have put all enemies under His feet, and death is swallowed up in victory, and all mankind is one fold under one Shepherd, Jesus Christ, the righteous King of all. But some may ask, What does our Lord mean when He says, 'That if we sought first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, all these things should be added to us?' I cannot tell you altogether, my friends; for eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive what God has prepared for those who love Him. But this I can tell you, that these things are taken _from_ men, instead of being added to them, by their not seeking first God's kingdom and His righteousness. I can tell you, as the Prophet does, that it is the sins of man which withhold good things from him; because though, as the Prophet says in the same place, God sends the good things, and the former and latter rain in their season, and reserves to men still the appointed weeks of harvest, yet men will not fear that same Lord their God; and therefore those good things are wasted, and mankind remains too often miserable in spite of God's goodness, and starving in the midst of God's plenty. If you wish to know what I mean, look but once at this present war. I do not complain of the war. I honour the war. I thank God from the bottom of my heart for this great and glorious victory, and I call on you to thank Him, too, for it. I am none of those who think war sinful. I cannot do so, for I swore at my baptism to fight manfully under Christ's banner against the world, the flesh, and the Devil; and if we cannot reach the Devil and his works by any other means, we must reach them as we are doing now, by sharp shot and cold steel, and we must hold it an honourable thing, and few things more honourable on earth, for a man to die fighting against evil men, and an evil world-devouring empire, like that of Babylon of old, or this of Russia now, that he may save not merely us who sit here now, but our children's children, and generations yet unborn, from Russian tyranny, and Russian falsehood, and Russian profligacy, and Russian superstition. I say, I do not complain of this war; but I ask you to look at the mere waste which it brings, the mere waste of God's blessings. Consider all the skilful men now employed in making cannon, shot, and powder to kill mortal men, who might every one of them, in time of peace, have been employed in making things which would feed, and clothe, and comfort mortal man. Consider that very powder and shot itself, the fruit of so much labour and money, made simply to be shot away, once for all, as if a man should spend months in making some precious vessel, and then dash it to pieces the moment it was made. Consider that Sevastopol alone; the millions of money which it must have cost--the stone, the timber, the iron, all used there--in making a mere robber's den, which might all have been spent in giving employment and sustenance to whole provinces of poor starving Russians. Consider those tens of thousands of men, labouring day and night for months at those deadly earthworks, whose strong arms might have been all tilling God's earth, and growing food for the use of man. And then see the waste, the want, the misery which that one place, Sevastopol, has caused upon God's earth. And consider, too, the souls of mortal men, who have been wasted there--no man knows how many, nor will know till the judgment day. Two hundred thousand, at the least, they say, wasted about that accursed place, within the last twelve months. Two hundred thousand cunning brains, two hundred thousand strong right hands, two hundred thousand willing hearts: what good might not each of those men have done if he had been labouring peacefully at home, in his right place in God's family! What might he not have invented, made, carried over land and sea? None dead there but might have been of use in his generation; and doubtless many a one who would have done good with all his might, who would have been a blessing to those around him; and now what is left of him on earth but a few bones beneath the sod? Wasted--utterly wasted! Oh, consider how precious is one man; consider how much good the weakest and stupidest of us all might do, if he set himself with his whole soul to do good; consider that the weakest and stupidest of us, even if he has no care for good, cannot earn his day's wages without doing some good to the bodies of his fellow-men; and then judge of the loss to mankind by this one single siege of one single town; and think how many stomachs must be the emptier, how many backs the barer, for this one war; and then see how man wastes God's gifts, and wastes most of all that most precious gift of all, men, living men, with minds, and reasons, and immortal souls. And whence has all this waste come? Simply because these Russian rulers have chosen to seek first, not God's kingdom, but their own. Instead of behaving like God's ministers and God's stewards, and asking, 'How would God our King have us rule His kingdom?' they have laboured for their own power, conquering all the nations round them, removing their neighbour's landmark, and wasting the wealth of their country on armies, and fortresses, and fleets, with which they intended to conquer more and more of the earth which did not belong to them. Because, instead of seeking God's righteousness, and saying to themselves, 'How shall we be righteous, even as our Heavenly Father is righteous, and how shall we teach this great people to be righteous likewise?' they have sought their own pleasure, and lived in profligacy, covetous and cheating almost beyond belief; and instead of behaving righteously to the people, or teaching them to be righteous, they have crushed down the people, stupefied and corrupted them by slavery, and maddened them by superstitions which are not the righteousness of God, till they have made them easy tools in their unjust wars, and are able to drive them, even by force, like sheep to the slaughter, to die miserably in a cause in which, even if those unhappy slaves conquered, they would only rivet their own chains more tightly, and put more power into the hands of the very rulers who are robbing them of their earnings, dishonouring their daughters, and driving off their sons to die in a foreign land. Ah, my friends, if these men had but sought first the kingdom of God and His righteousness; if the great wealth, and the wonderful industry and prudence of Russia had been but spent in doing justly, and loving mercy, what a rich and honourable country of brave and industrious Christian men might Russia be; a blessing, and not a curse, to half the earth of God! Let us pray that she will become so, some day; and we may have hope for her, for she is but young, and has time yet for repentance. But some may say--indeed, we are all ready enough to say--'Then the evil of this war is the Russians' fault, and not ours; and so in every other case. In every other evil and misery they are rather other people's fault than ours. If we do our duty well enough, and if other people would but do theirs, all would be well.' We are all apt to say this in our hearts. But our Lord does not say so. His promise is to all mankind: but His promise is to each of us also. When He says, Seek ye first God's kingdom and righteousness, He speaks to you and to me, to every soul now here. Believe it, my friends. The more that I see of life, the more I see how much of our sorrow is our own fault; how much of our happiness is in our own hands; and the more I see how little use there is in finding fault with this government, or that, the more I see how much use there is in every man's finding fault with himself, and taking his share of the blame. I do not doubt that if the whole people of England, for the last forty years, had sought first God's kingdom and God's righteousness, and said to themselves in every matter, not merely 'What is profitable for us to do?' but 'What is _right_ for us to do?' we should have been spared the expenses and the sorrows of this war: but as for blaming our government, my friends,--what they are we are; we choose them, Englishmen like ourselves, and they truly _represent us_. Not one complaint can we make against them, which we may not as justly make against ourselves; and if we had been in their places, we should have done what they did; for the seeds of the same sins are in us; and we yield, each in his own household and his own business, to the same temptations as they, to the sins which so easily beset Englishmen at this present time. I say, frankly, I see not one charge brought against them in the newspapers which might not quite as justly be brought against me, and, for aught I know, against every one of us here; and while we are not faithful over a few things, what right have we to complain of them for not having been faithful over many things? Believe, rather (I believe it), that if we had been in their place, we should have done far worse than they; and ask yourselves, 'Do _I_ seek first God's kingdom and God's righteousness; for if I do not, what right have I to lay the blame of my bad success on other men's not seeking them?' To each of us, as much as to our government, or to the Russian empire, is Christ's command; and each of us must take the consequences, if we break it. Let us look at ourselves, and mend ourselves, and try whether God's promise will not hold true for us, each in his station, let the world round us go as it will. Be sure that God is just, and that every man bears his own burden: that the righteous should be as the wicked, that be far from Thee, O God! Shall not the judge of all the earth do right? Be sure that those who trust in Him shall never be confounded, though the earth be moved, and the mountains carried into the midst of the sea, as it is written, 'Trust in the Lord, and be doing good; dwell in the land, and work where God has placed thee, and verily thou shalt be fed.' But have we done so, my friends? have we sought first God's kingdom and His righteousness? have we not rather forgotten the meaning of the text, and what God's kingdom is, and what His righteousness is? Do not most people fancy that God's kingdom only means some pleasant place to which people are to go after they die? and that seeking God's righteousness only means having Christ's righteousness imputed to us (as they call it), without our being righteous and good ourselves? Do not most of us fancy that this very text means, 'Do you take care of your souls, and God will take care of your bodies; do you see after the salvation of your souls, and God will see after the salvation of your bodies'? a meaning which, in the first place, is not true, for God will do no such thing; and all the religion in the world will not prevent a man's having to work for his daily bread, or pay his debts for him without money; and a meaning which, in the second place, people themselves do not believe; for religious professors in general now are just as keen about money as irreligious ones, and even more so; so that covetousness and cunning, ambition and greediness to rise in life, seem now-a-days to go hand in hand with a high religious profession; and those who fancy themselves the children of light have become just as wise in their generation as the children of this world whom they despise. No, my friends, that is not the meaning of the text; and when I ask you, Have you obeyed the text? I do not ask you that question; but one which I believe is something far more spiritual and more deep, something at least which is far more heart-searching, and likely to prick a man's conscience, perhaps to make him angry with me who ask. Do you seek first God's kingdom, or your own profit, your own pleasure, your own reputation? Do you believe that you are in God's kingdom, that He is your King, and has called you to the station in which you are to do good and useful work for Him upon this earth of His? Whatever be your calling, whether you be servant, labourer, farmer, tradesman, gentleman, maid, wife, or widow, father, son, or husband, do you ask yourself every day, 'Now what are the laws of God's kingdom about this station of mine? what is my duty here? how can I obey God, and His laws here, and do what He requires of me, and so be a good servant, a good labourer, a good tradesman, a good master, a good parish officer, a good wife, a good parent, pleasing to God, useful to my neighbours and to my countrymen?' Or do you say to yourselves, 'How can I get the greatest quantity of money and pleasure out of my station, with the least trouble to myself?' My dearest friends, ask yourselves, each of you, in which of these two ways do you look at your own station in life? And do you seek first God's righteousness? There can be no mistake as to what God's righteousness is; for God's righteousness must be Christ's righteousness, seeing that He is the express image of His Father. Now do you ask yourselves, 'How am I to be righteous in my station, as Christ was in His? how can I do my Heavenly Father's will, as Christ did? how can I behave like Christ in my station? how would the Lord Jesus Christ have behaved, if He had been in my place, when He was on earth?' My friends, that is the question, the searching question, the question which must convince us all of sin, and show us so many faults of our own to complain of, that we shall find no time to throw stones at our neighbours. How would the Lord Jesus Christ have behaved, if He had been in my place when He was upon earth? My dear friends, till we can all of us answer that question somewhat better than we can now, we have no need to look as far as Russia, or as our forefathers' mistakes, or our rulers' mistakes, to find out why this trouble and that trouble come upon us: for we shall find the reason in our own selfish, greedy, self-willed hearts. Oh, my friends, let us each search our own lives, and repent, and amend, and resolve to do our duty, as sons of God, in the station to which God has called us, by the help of the Spirit of God, which He has promised freely to those who ask Him. And now, this day, as we thank God for this great victory, let us thank Him, not with our lips merely, but with our lives, by living such lives as He loves to see, such lives as He meant us to live, lives of loyalty to God, and of usefulness to our brethren, and of industry and prudence in our calling, and so help forward, each of us, however humble our station, the glory of God; because we shall each of us, in the cottage and in the field, in the shop and in the mansion, in this our little parish, and therefore in the great nation of which it is a part, help forward the fulfilment of those blessed words, Our Father which art in heaven; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven; and therefore, also, the fulfilment of the words which come after them, and not before them; Give us this day our daily bread. SERMON XIV. ENGLAND'S STRENGTH 2 Kings xix. 34. I will defend this city, to save it for mine own sake. The first lesson for this morning's service is of the grandest in the whole Old Testament; grander perhaps than all, except the story of the passage of the Red Sea, and the giving of the Law on Sinai. It follows out the story which you heard in the first lesson for last Sunday afternoon, of the invasion of Judea by the Assyrians. You heard then how this great Assyrian conqueror, Sennacherib, after taking all the fortified towns of Judah, and sweeping the whole country with fire and sword, sent three of his generals up to the very walls of Jerusalem, commanding King Hezekiah to surrender at discretion, and throw himself and his people on Sennacherib's mercy; how proudly and boastfully he taunted the Jews with their weakness; how, like the Russian emperor now, he called in religion as the excuse for his conquests and robberies, saying, as if God's blessings were on them, 'Am I now come up without the Lord against this place to destroy it? The Lord said to me, Go up against this place to destroy it;' while all the time what he really trusted in (as his own words showed) was what the Russian emperors trust in, their own strength and the number of their armies. Jerusalem was thus in utter need and danger; the vast army of the Assyrians was encamped at Lachish, not more than ten miles off; and however strong the walls of Jerusalem might be, and however advantageously it might stand on its high hill, with lofty rocks and cliffs on three sides of it, yet Hezekiah knew well that no strength of his could stand more than a few days against Sennacherib's army. For these Assyrians had brought the art of war to a greater perfection than any nation of the old world: they lived for war, and studied, it seems, only how to conquer. And they have left behind them very remarkable proofs of what sort of men they were, of which I think it right to tell you all; for they are most instructive, not merely because they prove the truth of Isaiah's account, but because they explain it, and help us in many ways to understand his prophecies. They are a number of sculptures and paintings, representing Sennacherib, his army, and his different conquests, which were painted by his command, in his palace; and having been lately discovered there, among the ruins of Nineveh, have been brought to England, and are now in the British Museum, while copies of many of them are in the Crystal Palace. There we see these terrible Assyrian conquerors defeating their enemies, torturing and slaughtering their prisoners, swimming rivers, beating down castles, sweeping on from land to land like a devouring fire, while over their heads fly fierce spirits who protect and prosper their cruelties, and eagles who trail in their claws the entrails of the slain. The very expression of their faces is frightful for its fierceness; the countenances of a 'bitter and hasty nation,' as the Prophet calls them, whose feet were swift to shed blood. And as for the art of war, and their power of taking walled towns like Jerusalem, you may see them in these pictures battering down and undermining forts and castles, with instruments so well made and powerful, that all other nations who came after them, for more than two thousand years, seem to have been content to copy from them, and hardly to have improved on the old Assyrian engines. Such, and so terrible, they came up against Jerusalem: to attempt to fight them would have been useless madness; and Hezekiah had but one means of escaping from them, and that was to cast himself and his people upon the boundless mercy, and faithfulness, and power of God. And Hezekiah had his answer by Isaiah the prophet: and more than an answer. The Lord took the matter into His own hand, and showed Sennacherib which was the stronger, his soldiers and horses and engines, or the Lord God; and so that terrible Assyrian army came utterly to nought, and vanished off the face of the earth. Now, my friends, has this noble history no lesson in it for us? God forbid! It has a lesson which ought to come nearer to our hearts than to the hearts of any nation: for though we or our forefathers have never been, for nearly three hundred years, in such utter need and danger as Jerusalem was, yet be sure that we might have been so, again and again, had it not been for the mercy of the same God who delivered Jerusalem from the Assyrians. It is now three hundred years ago that the Lord delivered this country from as terrible an invader as Sennacherib himself; when He three times scattered by storms the fleets of the King of Spain, which were coming to lay waste this land with fire and sword: and since then no foreign foe has set foot on English soil, and we almost alone, of all the nations of Europe, have been preserved from those horrors of war, even to speak of which is dreadful! Oh, my friends! we know not half God's goodness to us! And if you ask me, why God has so blest and favoured this land, I can only answer--and I am not ashamed or afraid to answer--I believe it is on account of the Church of England; it is because God has put His name here in a peculiar way, as He did among the Jews of old, and that He is jealous for His Church, and for the special knowledge of His Gospel and His Law, which He has given us in our Prayer-book and in our Church Catechism, lighting therein a candle in England which I believe will never be put out. It is not merely that we are a Protestant country,--great blessing as that is,--it is, I believe, that there is something in the Church of England which there is not in Protestant countries abroad, unless perhaps Sweden: for every one of them (except Sweden and ourselves) has suffered, from time to time, invading armies, and the unspeakable horrors of war. In some of them the light of the Gospel has been quenched utterly, and in others it lingers like a candle flickering down into the socket. By horrible persecutions, and murder, and war, and pillage, have those nations been tormented from time to time; and who are we, that we should escape? Certainly from no righteousness of our own. Some may say, It is our great wealth which has made us strong. My friends, believe it not. Look at Spain, which was once the richest of all nations; and did her riches preserve her? Has she not dwindled down into the most miserable and helpless of all nations? Has not her very wealth vanished from her, because she sold herself to work all unrighteousness with greediness? Some may say, It is our freedom which makes us strong. My friends, believe it not. Freedom is a vast blessing from God, but freedom alone will preserve no nation. How many free nations have fallen into every sort of misery, ay, into bitter slavery, in spite of all their freedom. How many free nations in Europe lie now in bondage, gnawing their tongues for pain, and weary with waiting for the deliverance which does not come? No, my friends, freedom is of little use without something else--and that is loyalty; reverence for law and obedience to the powers that be, because men believe those powers to be ordained of God; because men believe that Christ is their King, and they His ministers and stewards, and that He it is who appoints all orders and degrees of men in His Holy Church. True freedom can only live with true loyalty and obedience, such as our Prayer-book, our Catechism, our Church of England preaches to us. It is a Church meant for free men, who stand each face to face with their Heavenly Father: but it is a Church meant also for loyal men, who look on the law as the ordinance of God, and on their rulers as the ministers of God; and if our freedom has had anything to do (as no doubt it has) with our prosperity, I believe that we owe the greater part of our freedom to the teaching and the general tone of mind which our Prayer-book has given to us and to our forefathers for now three hundred years. Not that we have listened to that teaching, or acted up to it: God knows, we have been but too like the Jews in Isaiah's time, who had the Law of God, and yet did every man what was right in his own eyes; we, like them, have been hypocritical; we, like them, have neglected the poor, and the widow, and the orphan; we, like them, have been too apt to pay tithe of mint and anise, and neglect the weightier matters of the law, justice, mercy, and judgment. When we read that awful first chapter of Isaiah, we may well tremble; for all the charges which he brings against the Jews of his time would just as well apply to us; but yet we can trust in the Lord, as Isaiah did, and believe that He will be jealous for His land, and for His name's sake, and not suffer the nations to say of us, 'Where is now their God?' We can trust Him, that if He turn His hand on us, as He did on the Jews of old, and bring us into danger and trouble, yet it will be in love and mercy, that He may purge away our dross, and take away all our alloy, and restore our rulers as at the first, and our counsellors as at the beginning, that we may be called, 'The city of righteousness, the faithful city.' True, we must not fancy that we have any righteousness of our own, that we merit God's favour above other people; our consciences ought to tell us that cannot be; our Bibles tell us that is an empty boast. Did we not hear this morning, 'Bring forth fruits meet for repentance: and think not to say within yourselves, We have Abraham to our father; for God is able of these stones to raise up children to Abraham.' But we may comfort ourselves with the thought that there is One standing among us (though we see Him not) who will, ay, and does, 'baptize us with the Holy Ghost and with fire, whose fan is in His hand, and He will thoroughly purge His floor, and gather the wheat into His garner,' for the use of our children after us, and the generations yet unborn, while the chaff, all among us which is empty, and light, and rotten, and useless, He will burn up (thanks be to His holy name) with fire unquenchable, which neither the falsehood and folly of man, nor the malice of the Devil, can put out, but which will purge this land of all its sins. This is our hope, and this is the cause of our thankfulness. For who but we should be thankful this day that we are Englishmen, members of Christ's Church of England, inhabitants of, perhaps, the only country in Europe which is not now perplexed with fear of change, while men's hearts fail them for dread, and looking for those things which are coming on the earth? a country which has never seen, as all the countries round have seen, a foreign army trampling down their crops, burning their farms, cutting down their trees, plundering their towns, destroying in a day the labour of years, while women are dishonoured, men tortured to make them give up their money, the able-bodied driven from their homes, ruined and wanderers, and the sick and aged left to perish of famine and neglect. My friends, all these things were going on but last year upon the Danube. They are going on now in Asia: even with all the mercy and moderation of our soldiers and sailors, we have not been able to avoid inflicting some of these very miseries upon our own enemies; and yet here we are, going about our business in peace and safety in a land in which we and our forefathers have found, now for many a year, that just laws make a quiet and prosperous people; that the effect of righteousness is peace, and the fruit of righteousness, quietness and assurance for ever;--a land in which the good are not terrified, the industrious hampered, and the greedy and lawless made eager and restless by expectation of change in government; but every man can boldly and hopefully work in his calling, and 'whatsoever his hand finds to do, do it with all his might,' in fair hope that the money which he earns in his manhood he will be able to enjoy quietly in his old age, and hand it down safely to his children, and his children's children;--a land which for hundreds of years has not felt the unspeakable horrors of war; a land which even now is safely and peacefully gathering in its harvest, while so many countries lie wasted with fire and sword. Oh, my friends, who made us to differ from others, or what have we that we did not receive? Not to ourselves do we owe our blessings; hardly even to our wise forefathers: but to God Himself, and the Spirit of God which was with them, and is with us still, in spite of all our shortcomings. We owe it to our wise Constitution, to our wise Church, the principle of which is that God is Judge and Christ is King, in peace as well as in war, in times of quiet as well as in times of change; I say, to our wise Constitution and to our wise Church, which teach us that all power is of God; that all men who have power, great or small, are His stewards; that all orders and degrees of men in His Holy Church, from the queen on the throne to the labourer in the harvest-field, are called by God to their ministry and vocation, and are responsible to God for their conduct therein. How then shall we show forth our thankfulness, not only in our lips, but in our lives? How, but by believing that very principle, that very truth which He has taught us, and by which England stands, that we are God's people, and God's servants? He has indeed showed us what is good, and our fathers before us; and what does the Lord require of us in return, but to do the good which He has showed us, to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God? Oh, my friends, come frankly and joyfully to the Lord's Table this day. Confess your sins and shortcomings to Him, and entreat Him to enable you to live more worthily of your many blessings. Offer to Him the sacrifice of your praise and thankfulness, imperfect though it is, and join with angels and archangels in blessing Him for what He is, and what He has been to you: and then receive your share of _His_ most perfect sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, the bread and the wine which tell you that you are members of His Church; that His body gives you whatsoever life and strength your souls have; that His blood washes out all your sins and shortcomings; that His Spirit shall be renewed in you day by day, to teach you to do the good work which He has prepared already for you, and to walk in the old paths which have led our forefathers, and will lead us too, I trust, safe through the chances and changes of this mortal life, and the fall of mighty kingdoms, towards that perfect City of God which is eternal in the heavens. SERMON XV. THE LIFE OF GOD Ephesians iv. 17, 18. That ye walk not as other Gentiles walk, in the vanity of their mind, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart. You heard these words read in the Epistle for to-day. I cannot expect that you all understood them. It is no shame to you that you did not. Some of them are long and hard Latin words. Some of them, though they are plain English enough, are hard to understand because they have to do with deep matters, which can only be understood by the help of God's Spirit. And even with the help of God's Spirit we cannot any of us expect to understand _all_ which they mean: we cannot expect to be as wise as St. Paul; for we must be as good as St. Paul before we can be as wise about goodness as he was. I do not pretend to understand all the text myself: no, not half, nor a tenth part of what it very likely means. But I do seem to myself to understand a little about it, by the help and blessing of God; and what little of it I do understand, I will try to make you understand also. For the words in the text belong to you as much as to me, or to St. Paul himself. What is true for one man, is true for every man. What is right for one man, is right for every man. What God promises for one man, He promises to every man. Man or woman, black or white, rich or poor, scholar or unlearned, there is no respect of persons with Him. 'In Christ Jesus,' says St. Paul, 'there is neither male nor female, slave nor freeman, Jew who fancies that God's promises belong to him alone, or Gentile who knows nothing about them, clever learned Greek, or stupid ignorant Barbarian.' It is enough for God that we are all men and women bearing the flesh, and blood, and human nature which His Son Jesus Christ wore on earth. If we are baptized, we belong to Him: if we are not baptized, we ought to be; for we belong to Him just as much. Every man may be baptized; every man may be regenerate; God calls all to His grace and adoption and holy baptism, which is the sign and seal of His adoption; and therefore, what is right for the regenerate baptized man, is right for the unregenerate unbaptized man; for the Christian and for the heathen there is but one way, one duty, one life for both, and that is the life of God, of which St. Paul speaks in the text. Now of this life of God I will speak hereafter; but I mention it now, because it is the thing to which I wish to bring your thoughts before the end of the sermon. But first, let us see what St. Paul means, when he talks about the Gentiles in his day. For that also has to do with us. I said that every man, Christian or heathen, has the same duty, and is bound to do the same right; every man, Christian or heathen, if he sins, breaks his duty in the same way, and does the same wrong. There is but one righteousness, the life of God; there is but one sin, and that is being alienated from the life of God. One man may commit different sorts of sins from another; one may lie, another may steal: one may be proud, another may be covetous: but all these different sins come from the same root of sin; they are all flowers of the same plant. And St. Paul tells us what that one root of sin, what that same Devil's plant, is, which produces all sin in Christian or Heathen, in Churchman or Dissenter, in man or woman-- the one disease, from which has come all the sin which ever was done by man, woman, or child since the world was made. Now, what is this one disease, to which every man, you and I, are all liable? Why it is that we are every one of us worse than we ought to be, worse than we know how to be, and, strangest of all, worse than we wish and like to be. Just as far as we are like the heathen of old, we shall be worse than we know how to be. For we are all ready enough to turn heathens again, at any moment, my friends; and the best Christian in this church knows best that what I say is true; that he is beset by the very same temptations which ruined the old heathens, and that if he gave way to them a moment they would ruin him likewise. For what does St. Paul say was the matter with the old heathens? First he says, 'Their understanding was darkened.' But what part of it? What was it that they had got dark about and could not understand? For in some matters they were as clever as we, and cleverer. What part of their understanding was it which was darkened? St. Paul tells us in the first chapter of the Epistle to the Romans. It was their hearts--their reason, as we should say. It was about God, and the life of God, that they were dark. They had not been always dark about God, but they were _darkened_; they grew more and more dark about Him, generation after generation; they gave themselves up more and more to their corrupt and fallen nature, and so the children grew worse than their fathers, and their children again worse than them, till they had lost all notion of what God was like. For from the very first all heathens have had some notion of what God is like, and have had a notion also, which none but God could have given them, that men ought to be like God. God taught, or if I may so speak, tried to teach, the heathen, from the very first. If God had not taught them, they would not have been to blame for knowing nothing of God. For as Job says, 'Can man by searching find out God?' Surely not; God must teach us about Himself. Never forget that man cannot find God; God must show Himself to man of His own free grace and will. God must reveal and unveil Himself to us, or we shall never even fancy that there is a God. And God did so to the heathen. Even before the Flood, God's Spirit strove with man; and after the Flood we read how the Lord, Jesus Christ the Son of God, revealed Himself in many different ways to heathens. To Pharaoh, king of Egypt, in Abraham's times; and again to Abimelech, king of Gerar; and again to Pharaoh and his servants, in Joseph's time; and to Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, and to Cyrus, king of Persia; and no doubt to thousands more. Indeed, no man, heathen or Christian, ever thought a single true thought, or felt a single right feeling, about God or man, or man's duty to God and his neighbour, unless God revealed it to him (whether or not He also revealed _Himself_ to the man and showed him _who_ it was who was putting the right thought into his mind): for every right thought and feeling about God, and goodness, and duty, are the very voice of God Himself, the word of God whereof St. John speaks, and Moses and the prophets speak, speaking to the heart of sinful man, to enlighten and to teach him. And therefore, St. Paul says, the sinful heathen were without excuse, because, he says, 'that which may be known of God is manifest, that is plain, among them, for God hath showed it to them. For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things which are made, even His eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse.' 'But these heathens,' he says, 'did not like to retain God in their knowledge; and when they knew God, did not glorify Him as God, and changed the glory of the Incorruptible God into the likeness of corruptible man, and beasts and creeping things.' And so they were alienated from the life of God; that is, they became strangers to God's life; they forgot what God's life and character was like: or if they even did awake a moment, and recollect dimly what God was like, they hated that thought. They hated to think that God was what He was, and shut their eyes, and stopped their ears as fast as possible. And what happened to them in the meantime? What was the fruit of their wilfully forgetting what God's life was? St. Paul tells us that they fell into the most horrible sins--sins too dreadful and shameful to be spoken of; and that their common life, even when they did not run into such fearful evils, was profligate, fierce, and miserable. And yet St. Paul tells us all the while they knew the judgment of God, that those who do such things are worthy of death. Now we know that St. Paul speaks truth, from the writings of heathens; for God raised up from time to time, even among the heathen Greeks and Romans, witnesses for Himself, to testify of Him and of His life, and to testify against the sins of the world, such men as Socrates and Plato among the Greeks, whose writings St. Paul knew thoroughly, and whom, I have no doubt, he had in his mind when he wrote his first chapter of Romans, and told the heathen that they were without excuse. And among the Romans, also, He raised up, in the same way, witnesses for Himself, such as Juvenal and Persius, and others, whom scholars know well. And to these men, heathens though they were, God certainly did teach a great deal about Himself, and gave them courage to rebuke the sins of kings and rich men, even at the danger of their lives; and to some of them he gave courage even to suffer martyrdom for the message which God had given them, and which their neighbours hated to hear. And this was the message which God sent by them to the heathen: that God was good and righteous, and that therefore His everlasting wrath must be awaiting sinners. They rebuked their heathen neighbours for those very same horrible crimes which St. Paul mentions; and then they said, as St. Paul does, 'How you make your own sins worse by blasphemies against God! You sin yourselves, and then, to excuse yourselves, you invent fables and lies about God, and pretend that God is as wicked as you are, in order to drug your own consciences, by making God the pattern of your own wickedness.' These men saw that man ought to be like God; and they saw that God was righteous and good; and they saw, therefore, that unrighteousness and sin must end in ruin and everlasting misery. So much God had taught them, but not much more; but to St. Paul he had taught more. Those wise and righteous heathen could show their sinful neighbours that sin was death, and that God was righteous. But they could not tell them how to rise out of the death of sin, into God's life of righteousness. They could preach the terrors of the Law, but they did not know the good news of the Gospel, and therefore they did not succeed; they did not convert their neighbours to God. Then came St. Paul and preached to the very same people, and he did convert them to God; for he had good news for them, of things which prophets and kings had desired to see, and had not seen them, and to hear, and had not heard them. For God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spoke to the fathers by the prophets, at last spoke to all men by a Son, His only-begotten Son, the exact likeness of His Father, the brightness of His glory, and the express image of His person. He sent Him to be a man: very man of the substance of His mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary, at the same time that He was Very God, of the substance of His Father, begotten before all worlds. And so God, and the life of God, was manifested in the flesh and reasonable soul of a man; and from that time there is no doubt what the life of God is; for the life of God is the life of Jesus Christ. There is no doubt now what God is like, for God is like Jesus Christ. No one can now say, 'I cannot see God, how then can you expect me to be like God?' for He who has seen Jesus Christ, as His character stands in the Gospels, has seen God the Father. No one can say now, 'How can a man be like God, and live a life like God's life?' for if any one of you say that, I can answer him: 'A man can be like God; you can be like God; for there was once a man on earth, Jesus, the son of the Blessed Virgin, who was perfectly like God.' And if you answer, 'But He was like God, because He was God,' I can say, 'And that is the very reason why you can be like God also.' If Jesus Christ had been only a man, you could no more become like Him than you can become clever because another man is clever, or strong because another man is strong: but because He was God The Son of God, He can give you, to make you like God, the same Holy Spirit which made Him like God; for that Holy Spirit proceeds from Him, the Son, as well as from the Father, and the Father has committed all power to the Son; and therefore that same Man Christ Jesus has power to change your heart, and renew it, and shape it to be like Him, and like His Father, by the power of His Spirit, that you may be like God as He was like God, and live the life of God which He lived; so that the Lord Jesus Christ, because He was a man like God, showed that all men can become like God; and because He was God, Very God of Very God, He is able to make all who come to Him men like Himself, men like God, and raise them up body and soul to the everlasting life of God, that He may be the firstborn among many brethren. Now what is this everlasting life of God, which the Lord Jesus Christ lived perfectly, and which He can and will make every one of us live, in proportion as we give up our hearts and wills to Him, and ask Him to take charge of us, and shape us, and teach us? When we read that blessed story of Him who was born in a stable, and laid in a manger, who went about doing good, because God was with Him, who condescended of His own freewill to be mocked, and scourged, and spit upon, and crucified, that He might take away the sins of the whole world, who prayed for His murderers, and blest those who cursed Him--what sort of life does this life of God, which He lived, seem to us? Is it not a life of love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, patience, meekness? Surely it is; then that is the likeness of God. God is love. And the Lord Jesus' life was a life of love--utter, perfect, untiring love. He did His Father's will perfectly, because He loved men perfectly, and to the death. He died for those who hated Him, and so He showed forth to man the name and glory of God; for God is love. The name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost is love; for love is justice and righteousness, as it is written, 'Love worketh no ill to his neighbour: therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.' And God is perfect love, because He is perfect righteousness; and perfect righteousness, because He is perfect love; for His love and His justice are not two different things, two different parts of God, as some say, who fancy that God's justice had to be satisfied in one way, and His love in another, and talk of God as if His justice fought against His love, and desired the death of a sinner, and then His love fought against His justice, and desired to save a sinner. No wonder that those who hold such doctrines go further still, and talk as if God the Father desired to destroy mankind, and would have done it if God the Son had not interposed, and suffered Himself instead; till they can fancy that they are Christians, and know God, while they use the hideous words of a certain hymn, which speaks of 'The streaming drops of Jesu's blood Which calmed the Father's frowning face.' May God deliver and preserve us and our children from all such blasphemous fables, which, like the fables of the old heathen, change the glory of the Incorruptible God into the likeness of a corruptible man, which deny the true faith, that God has neither parts nor passions, by talking of His love and His justice as two different things; which confound His persons by saying that the Son alone does what the Father and the Holy Spirit do also, while they divide His substance by making the will of the Son different from the will of the Father, and deny that such as the Father is, such is the Son, and such is the Holy Ghost, all three one perfect Love, and one perfect Justice, because they are all three one God, and God is love, and love is righteousness. Believe me, my friends, this is no mere question of words, which only has to do with scholars in their libraries; it is a question, the question of life and death for you, and me, and every living soul in this church,--Do we know what the life of God is? are we living it? or are we alienated from it, careless about it, disliking it? For, as I said at the beginning of my sermon, we are all ready enough to turn heathens again; and if we grow to forget or dislike the life of God, we shall be heathen at heart. We may talk about Him with our lips, we may quarrel and curse each other about religious differences; but let us make as great a profession as we may, if we do not love the life of God we shall be heathen at heart, and we shall, sooner or later, fall into sin. The heathens fell into sin just in proportion as their hearts were turned away from the life of God, and so shall we. And how shall we know whether our hearts are turned away, or whether they are right with God? Thus: What are the fruits of God's Spirit? what sort of life does the Spirit of God make man live? For the Spirit of God is God, and therefore the life of God is the life which God's Spirit makes men live; and what is that? a life of love and righteousness. The old heathens did not like such a life, therefore they did not like to retain God in their knowledge. They knew that man ought to be like God: and St. Paul says, they ought to have known what God was like; that He was Love; for St. Paul told them He left not Himself without witness, in that He sent them rain and fruitful seasons, filling their hearts with food and gladness. That was, in St. Paul's eyes, God's plainest witness of Himself--the sign that God was Love, making His sun shine on the just and on the unjust, and good to the unthankful and the evil--in one word, perfect, because He is perfect Love. But they preferred to be selfish, covetous, envious, revengeful, delighting to indulge themselves in filthy pleasures, to oppress and defraud each other. Do you? For you can, I can, every baptized man can take his choice between the selfish life of the heathens and the loving life of God: we may either keep to the old pattern of man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts; or we may put on the new pattern of man, which is after God's likeness, and founded upon righteousness and truthful holiness. Every baptized man may choose. For he is not only bound to live the life of God: every man, as the old heathen philosophers knew, is bound to live it: but more. The baptized man _can_ live it: that is the good news of his baptism. _You can_ live the life of God, for you know what the life of God is--it is the life of Jesus Christ. _You can_ live the life of God, for the Spirit of God is with you, to cleanse your soul and life, day by day, till they are like the soul and life of Christ. Then you will be, as the apostle says, 'a partaker of a divine nature.' Then--and it is an awful thing to say--a thing past hope, past belief, but I must say it--for it is in the Bible, it is the word of the Blessed Lord Himself, and of His beloved apostle, St. John: 'If a man love Me, he will keep my commandments, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our abode with him.' 'And this is His commandment,' says St. John, 'That we should love one another.' 'God is Love, and he who dwelleth in Love dwelleth in God, and God in him.' God is Love. As I told you just now, the heathens of old might have known that, if they had chosen to open their eyes and see. But they would not see. They were dark, cruel, and unloving, and therefore they fancied that God was dark, cruel, and unloving also. They did not love Love, and therefore they did not love God, for God is Love. And therefore they did not love loving: they did not enjoy loving; and so they lost the Spirit of God, which is the Spirit of Love. And therefore they did not love each other, but lived in hatred and suspicion, and selfishness, and darkness. They were but heathen. But if even they ought to have known that God was Love, how much more we? For we know of a deed of God's love, such as those poor heathen never dreamed of. God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son to die for it. Then God showed what His eternal life was--a life of love: then God showed what our eternal life is-- to know Him who is Love, and Jesus Christ, whom He sent to show forth His love: then God showed that it is the duty and in the power of every man to live the life of God, the life of Love; for He sent forth into the world His Spirit, the Spirit of Love, to fill with love the heart of every man and woman who sees that Love is the image of God, and longs to be loving, and therefore longs to be like God; as it is written, 'Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled:' for righteousness is keeping Christ's commandment, and Christ's commandment is, that we love one another. And to those who long to do that, God's Spirit will come to fill them with love; and where the Spirit of God is, there is also the Father, and there is also the Son; for God's substance cannot be divided, as the Athanasian creed tells us (and blessed and cheering words they are); and he who hath the Holy Spirit of Love with him hath both the Father and the Son; as it is written: 'If a man love Me, my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.' And then, if we have God abiding with us, and filling us with His Eternal Life, what more do we need for life, or death, or eternity, or eternities of eternities? For we shall live in and with and by God, who can never die or change, an everlasting life of love, whereof St. Paul says, that though prophecies shall fail, and tongues shall cease, and knowledge shall vanish away, because all that we know now is but in part, and all that we see now is through a glass darkly, yet Love shall never fail, but abide for ever and ever. SERMON XVI. GOD'S OFFSPRING Galatians iv. 7. Wherefore thou art no more a servant, but a son; and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ. I say, writes St. Paul, in the epistle which you heard read just now, 'that the heir, as long as he is a child, differs nothing from a servant, though he be lord of all; but is under tutors and governors, until the time appointed by his father. Even so,' he says, we, 'when we were children, were in bondage under the elements of the world: but when the fulness of time was come, God sent forth His Son made of a woman, made under a law, to redeem them that were under a law, that we might receive the adoption of sons.' When we were children. He is not speaking of the Jews only; for these Galatians to whom he was writing were not Jews at all, any more than we are. He was speaking to men simply as men. He was speaking to the Galatians as we have a right to speak to all men. Nor does he mean merely when we were children in age. The Greek word which he uses, means infants, people not come to years of discretion. Indeed, the word which he uses means very often a simpleton, an ignorant or foolish person; one who does not know who and what he is, what is his duty, or how to do it. Now this, he says, was the state of men before Christ came; this is the state of all men by nature still; the state of all poor heathens, whether in England or in foreign countries. They are children--that is, ignorant and unable to take care of themselves; because they do not know what they are. St. Paul tells us what they are. That they are all God's offspring, though they know it not. He likens them to young children, who, though they are their father's heirs, have no more liberty than slaves have; but are kept under tutors and masters, till they have arrived at years of discretion, and are fit to take their places as their father's _sons_, and to go out into the world, and have the management of their own affairs, and a share in their father's property, which they may use for themselves, instead of being merely fed and clothed by, and kept in subjection to him, whether they will or not. This is what he means by receiving the adoption of sons. He does not mean that we are not God's children till we find out that we are God's children. That is what some people say; but that is the very exact contrary to what St. Paul used to say. He told the heathen Athenians that they were God's children. He put them in mind that one of their own heathen poets had told them so, and had said, 'We are also God's offspring.' And so in this chapter he says, You were God's children all along, though you did not know it. You were God's heirs all along, although you differed nothing from slaves; for as long as you were in your heathen ignorance and foolishness, God had to treat you as His slaves, not as His children; and so you were in bondage under the elements of the world, till the fulness of time was come. And, then, God sent His Son, born of a woman, born under a law, to redeem those who were under a law--that is, all mankind. The Jews were keeping, or pretending to keep, Moses' law, and trying to please God by that. The heathens were keeping all manner of old superstitious laws and customs about religion which their forefathers had handed down to them. But heathens, and indeed Jews too, at that time, all agreed in one thing. These laws and customs of theirs about religion all went upon the notion of their being God's slaves, and not his children. They thought that God did not love them; that they must buy His favours. They thought religion meant a plan for making God love them. Then appeared the love of God in Jesus Christ. As at this very Christmas time, the Son of God, Jesus Christ the Lord, in whose likeness man was made at the beginning, was born into the world, to redeem us and all mankind. He told them of their Heavenly Father; He preached to them the good news of the kingdom of God; that God had not forgotten them, did not hate them, would freely forgive them all that was past; and why? Because He was their Father, and loved them, and loved them so that He spared not His only begotten Son, but freely gave Him for them. And now God looks at us human beings, not as we are in ourselves, sinful and corrupt, but he looks at us in the light of Jesus Christ, who has taken our nature upon Him, and redeemed it, and raised it up again, so that God can look on it now without disgust, and henceforth no one need be ashamed of being a man; for to be a man is to be in the likeness of God. Man was created in the image and likeness of God, and who is the image and likeness of God but Jesus Christ? Therefore man was created at first in Jesus Christ, and now, as St. Paul says, he is created anew in Jesus Christ; and now to be a man is to partake of the same flesh and blood which the Lord Jesus Christ wore for us, when He was made very man of the substance of his mother, and that without spot of sin, to show that man need not be sinful, that man was meant by God to be holy and pure from sin, and that by the Holy Spirit of Jesus Christ we, every one of us, can become pure from sin. This is the blessedness of Christmas-day. That one man, at least, has been born into the world spotless and free from sin, that He might be the firstborn of many brethren. This is the good news of Christmas-day. That now, in Christ's light, and for Christ's sake, our Father looks on us as His sons, and not His slaves. Therefore is every child who comes into the world baptized freely into the name of God. Baptism is a sign and warrant that God loves that child; that God looks on it as His child, not for itself or its own sake, but because it belongs to Jesus Christ, who, by becoming a man, redeemed all mankind, and made them His property and His brothers. Therefore every child, when it is brought to be baptized, promises, by its godfathers and godmothers, repentance and faith, when it comes to years of understanding. It is not God's slave, as the beasts are. It is God's child. But God does not wish it to remain merely His child, under tutors and governors, forced to do what is right outwardly, and whether it likes or not. God wishes each of us to become His son, His grown-up and reasonable son. To know who we are;--to work in His kingdom for Him;--to guide and manage our own wills, and hearts, and lives in obedience to Him;--to claim and take our share as men of God of the inheritance which He has given us. And that we can only do by faith in Jesus Christ. We must trust in Him, our Lord, our King, our Saviour, our Pattern. We must confess that we are nothing in ourselves, that we owe all to Him. We must follow in his footsteps, giving up our wills to God's will, doing not our own works, but the good works which God has prepared for us to walk in; and then we shall be truly confirmed; not mere children of God, under tutors, governors, schoolmasters and lawgivers, but free, reasonable, willing, hearty Christians, perfect men of God, the sons of God without rebuke. Oh, my friends, will you claim your share in the Spirit of God, whom the Lord bought for us with His precious blood, that Spirit who was given you at your baptism, which may be daily renewed in you, if you pray for it; who will strengthen and lift you up to lead lives worthy of your high calling? Or will you, like Esau of old, despise your birthright, and neglect to pray that God's Spirit may be renewed in you, and so lose more and more day by day the thought that God is your Father, and the love of holy and godlike things? Alas! take care that, like Esau, you hereafter find no room for repentance, though you seek it carefully with tears! It is a fearful thing to despise the mercies of the living God; and when you are called to be His sons, to fall back under the terrors of His law, in slavish fears and a guilty conscience, and remorse which cannot repent. And do not give way to false humility, says St. Paul. Do not say, 'This is too high an honour for us to claim.' Do not say, 'It seems too conceited and assuming for us miserable sinners to call ourselves sons of God. We shall please God better, and show ourselves more reverent to Him, by calling ourselves His slaves, and crouching and trembling before Him, as if we expected Him to strike us dead, and making all sorts of painful and tiresome religious observances, and vain repetitions of prayers, to win His favour;' or by saying, 'We dare not call ourselves God's children yet; we are not spiritual enough; but when we have gone through all the necessary changes of heart, and frames, and feeling, and have been convinced of sin, and converted, and received the earnest, God's Spirit, by which we cry, Abba, Father! _then_ we shall have a right to call ourselves God's children.' Not so, says St. Paul, all through this very Epistle to the Galatians. That is not being reverent to God. It is insulting Him. For it is despising the honour which He has given you, and trying to get another honour of your own invention, by observances, and frames, and feelings of your own. Do not say, 'When we have received the earnest of God's Spirit, by which we can cry, Abba, Father! _then_ we shall become God's children;' for it is just because you _are_ God's children already--just because you have been God's children all along, that God has taught you to call Him Father. The Lord Jesus Christ told men that God was their Father. Not merely to the Apostles, but to poor, ignorant, sinful wretches, publicans and harlots, He spoke of their Father in heaven, who, because He is a perfect Father, sends His sun to shine on the evil and the good, and His rain to fall on the just and on the unjust. The Lord Jesus Christ taught men--all men, not merely saints and Apostles, but all men, when they prayed--to begin, 'Our Father.' He told them that that was the manner in which they were to pray, and therefore no other way of praying can we expect God to hear. No slavish, terrified, superstitious coaxing and flattering will help you with God. He has told you to call Him your Father; and if you speak to Him in any other way, you insult Him, and trample under foot the riches of His grace. This is the good news which the Bible preaches. This is the witness of God's Spirit, proclaiming that we are the sons of God; and, says St. Paul in another place, 'our spirit witnesses' to that glorious news as well. We feel, we know--why, we cannot tell, but we feel and know that we are the sons of God. When we are most calm, most humble, most free from ill-temper and self-conceit, most busy about our rightful work, then the feeling comes over us--I have a Father in heaven. And that feeling gives us a strength, a peace, a sure trust and hope, which no other thought can give. Yes, we are ready to say, I may be miserable and unfortunate, but the Great God of heaven and earth is my Father; and what can happen to me? I may be borne down with the remembrance of my great sins; I may find it almost too hard to fight against all my bad habits; but the Great God who made heaven and earth is my Father, and I am His son. He will forgive me for the past; He will help me to conquer for the future. If I do but remember that I am God's son, and claim my Father's promises, neither the world, nor the devil, nor my own sinful flesh, can ever prevail against me. This thought, and the peace which it brings, St. Paul tells us is none of our own; we did not put it into our own hearts; from God it comes, that blessed thought, that He is our Father. We could never have found it out for ourselves. It is the Spirit of the Son of God, the Spirit of the Lord Jesus Christ, which gives us courage to say, 'Our Father which art in heaven,' which makes us feel that those words are true, and must be true, and are worth all other words in the world put together--that God is our Father, and we his sons. Oh, my friends, believe earnestly this blessed news! the news of Christmas-day, that you are not God's slaves, but his sons, heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ;--joint-heirs with Christ! In what? Who can tell? But what an inheritance of glory and bliss that must be, which the Lord Jesus Christ Himself is to inherit with us--an inheritance such as eye hath not seen, and incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, preserved in heaven for us; an inheritance of all that is wise, loving, noble, holy, peaceful--all that can make us happy, all that can make us like God Himself. Oh, what can we expect, if we neglect so great salvation? What can we expect, if when the Great God of heaven and earth tells us that we are His children, we turn away and fall down, become like the brutes, and the savages, or worse, like the evil spirits who rebel against God, instead of growing up to become the sons of God, perfect even as our Father in heaven is perfect? May He keep us all from that great sin! May He awaken each and every one of you to know the glory and honour which Jesus Christ brought for you when He was born at Bethlehem--the glory and honour which was proclaimed to belong to you when you were christened at that font! May He awaken you to know that you are the sons of God, and to look up to Him with loving, trustful, obedient souls, saying from your hearts, morning and night 'Our Father which art in heaven,' and feeling that those words give you daily strength to conquer your sins, and feel assurance of hope that your Heavenly Father will help and prosper you, His family, every time you struggle to obey His commandments, and follow the example of His perfect and spotless Son, Jesus Christ the Lord! SERMON XVII. DEATH IN LIFE Romans viii. 12, 13. Brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh. For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live. Does it seem strange to you that St. Paul should warn you, that you are not debtors to your own flesh? It is not strange, when you come to understand him; certainly not unnecessary: for as in his time, so now, most people do live as if they were debtors to their own flesh, as if their great duty, their one duty in life, was to please their own bodies, and brains, and tempers, and fancies, and feelings. Poor people have not much time to indulge their brains; and no time at all, happily for them, to indulge their fancies and feelings, as rich people do when they grow idle, and dainty, and luxurious. But still, too many of them live as if they were debtors to their own flesh; as if their own bodies and their own tempers were the masters of them, and ought to be their masters. Young men, for instance, how often they do things in secret of which it is a shame even to speak, just because it is pleasant. Young women, how often do they sell themselves and their own modesty, just for the pleasure of being flattered and courted, and of getting a few fine clothes. How often do men, just for the pleasure of drink, besot their souls and bodies, madden their tempers, neglect their families, make themselves every Saturday night, and often half the week, too, lower than the beasts which perish. And then, when a clergyman complains of them, they think him unreasonable; and by so thinking, show that he is right, and St. Paul right: for if I say to you, My dear young people (and I do say it), if you give way to filthy living and filthy talking, and to drunkenness, and to vanity about fine clothes, you will surely die--do you not say in your hearts, 'How unreasonable: how hard on us! If we can enjoy ourselves a little, why should we not? It is our right, and do it we will; and if it is wrong, it ought not to be wrong.' Why, what is that but saying, that you ought to do just what your body likes: that you are debtors to your flesh; and that your flesh, and not God's law, is your master. So again, when people grow older, perhaps they are more prudent about bad living, and more careful of their money: but still they live after the flesh. One man sets his heart on making money, and cares for nothing but that; breaks God's law for that, as if that was the thing to which he was a debtor, bound by some law which he could not avoid to scrape and scrape money together for ever. Another (and how often we see that) is a slave to his own pride and temper, which are just as much bred in his flesh: if he has been injured by any one, if he has taken a dislike against any one, he cannot forget and forgive: the man may be upright and kindly on many other points; prudent, too, and sober, and thoroughly master of himself on most matters; and yet you will find that when he gets on that one point, he is not master of himself; for his flesh is master of him: he may be a strong-minded, shrewd man upon most matters but just that one point: some old quarrel, or grudge, or suspicion, is, as we say, his weak point: and if you touch on that, the man's eye will kindle, and his face redden, and his lip tremble, and he will show that he is not master of himself: but that he is over-mastered by his fleshly passion, by the suspiciousness, or revengefulness, or touchiness, which every dumb animal has as well as he, which is not part of his man's nature, not part of God's image in him, but which is like the beasts which perish. Now, my friends, suppose I said to you, 'If you give way to such tempers; if you give way to pride, suspicion, sullen spite, settled dislike of any human being, you will surely die;' should you not, some of you, be inclined to think me very unreasonable, and to say in your hearts, 'Have I not a right to be angry? Have I not a right to give a man as good as he brings?' so confessing that I am right, after all, and that some of you think that you are debtors to your flesh, and its tempers, and do not see that you are meant to be masters, and not slaves, of your tempers and feelings. Again. Among poor women, as well as among rich ones, as they grow older, how much gossiping, tale-bearing, slandering, there is, and that too among people who call themselves religious. Yes, I say slandering; I put that in too; for I am certain that where the first two grow, the third is not far off. If gossiping is the root, tale- bearing and harsh judgment is the stem, and plain lying and slandering, and bearing false witness against one's neighbour, is the fruit. Now I say, because St. Paul says it, 'that those who do such things shall surely die.' And do not some of you think me unreasonable in that, and say in your heart, 'What! are we to be tongue-tied? Shall we not speak our minds?' Be it so, my good women, only remember this: that as long as you say that, you confess that you are not masters of your tongues, but your tongues are masters of you, and that you freely confess you owe service to your tongue, and not to God. Do not therefore complain of me for saying the very same thing, namely, that you think you are debtors to your flesh--to the tongues in your mouths, and must needs do what those same little unruly members choose, of which St James has said, 'The tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity, and it sets on fire the whole course of nature, and is set on fire of hell.' And again: 'If any person among you seem to be religious, and bridles not his tongue, but deceives himself, that person's religion is vain.' Again:--and, my good women, you must not think me hard on you, for you know in your hearts that I am not hard on you; but I must speak a word on a sin which I am afraid is growing in this parish, and in too many parishes in England; and that is deceiving kind and charitable persons, in order to get more help from them. God knows the temptation must be sore to poor people at times. And yet you will surely find in the long run, that 'honesty is the best policy.' Deceit is always a losing game. A lie is sure to be found out; as the Lord Jesus Himself says, 'There is nothing hid which shall not be made manifest;' and what we do in secret, is sure, unless we repent and amend it, to be proclaimed on the housetop: and many a poor soul, in her haste and greediness to get much, ends by getting nothing at all. And if it were not so;--if you were able to deceive any human being out of the riches of the world: yet know, that a man's life does _not_ consist in the abundance of the things which he possesses. And know that if you will not believe that,--if you will fancy that your business is to get all you can for your mortal bodies, by fair means or foul,--if you will fancy that you are thus debtors to your own flesh, you will surely die: but if you, through the Spirit, do mortify the deeds of the body, you shall live. And by this time some of you are asking, 'Live? Die? What does all this mean? When we die we shall die, good or bad; and in the meantime we shall live till we die. And you do not mean to tell us that we shall shorten our lives by our own tempers, or our tale- bearing, though we might, perhaps, by drunkenness?' My friends, if such a question rises in your mind, be sure that it, too, is a hint that you think yourself a debtor to the flesh--to live according to the flesh. For tell me, tell yourselves fairly, is your flesh, your body, the part of yourself which you can see and handle, _You_?--You know that it is not. When a neighbour's body dies, you say, perhaps, '_He_ is dead,' but you say it carelessly; and when one whom you know well, and love, dies,--when a parent, a wife, a child, dies, you feel very differently about them, even if you do not speak differently. You feel and know that he, the person whom you loved and understood, and felt with, and felt for, here on earth, is not dead at all; you feel (and in proportion as the friend you have lost was loving, and good, and full of feeling for you, you feel it all the more strongly) that your friend, or your child, or the wife of your bosom, is alive still--where you know not, but you feel they are alive; that they are very near you;--that they are thinking of you, watching you, caring for you,--perhaps grieving over you when you go wrong--perhaps rejoicing over you when you go right,--perhaps helping you, though you cannot see them, in some wonderful way. You know that only their mortal flesh is dead. That their mortal flesh was all you put into the grave; but that _they_ themselves, their souls and spirits, which were their very and real selves, are alive for evermore; and you trust and hope to meet them when you die;--ay, to meet them body and soul too, at the last day, the very same persons whom you knew here on earth, though the flesh which they wore here in this life has crumbled into dust years and ages before. Is not this true? Is not this a blessed life-giving thought--I had almost said the most blessed and life-giving thought man can have-- that those whom we have loved and lost are not dead, but only gone before; that they live still to God and with God; that only their flesh has perished, and they themselves are alive for evermore? Now believe me, my friends, as surely as a man's flesh can die and be buried, while he himself, his soul, lives for ever, just so a man's self, his soul, can die, while his flesh lives on upon earth. You do not think so, but the Bible thinks so. The Bible talks of men being _dead_ in trespasses and sins, while their flesh and body is alive and walking this earth. It talks, too, of a worse state, of men twice dead; of men, who, after God has brought their souls to life, let those souls of theirs die down again within them, and rot away, as far as we can see, hopelessly and for ever. And what is it which kills a man's soul within him on this side the grave, and makes him dead while he has a name to live? _Sin_, evil-doing, the disease of the soul, the death of the soul, yea, the death of the man himself. And what is sin but living according to the flesh, and not according to the spirit? What is sin but living as the dumb animals do, as if we were debtors to our own flesh, to fulfil its lusts, and to please our own appetites, fancies, and tempers, instead of remembering that we are debtors to God, who made us, and blesses us all day long;--debtors to our Lord Jesus Christ, who bought us with His own blood, that we might please Him and obey Him;--debtors to God's Holy Spirit, who puts into our minds good desires;--debtors to our baptism vows, in which we were consecrated to God, that He, and not this flesh of ours, might be our Master for ever? This is sin; to give way to those selfish and evil tempers, against which I warned you in the beginning of my sermon, and which, if any man indulges in them, will surely and steadily, bit by bit, kill that man's soul within him, and leave the man dead in trespasses and sins, while his body walks this earth. My friends, do not fancy these are merely farfetched words out of a book, made to sound difficult and terrible in order to frighten you. God forbid! When Scripture says this, it speaks a plain and simple truth, and one which I know to be a truth from experience. I speak that which I know, and testify that which I have seen. I have seen (and what sadder or more fearful sight?) dead men and dying walk this earth in flesh and blood; men busy enough, shrewd enough upon some points, priding themselves, perhaps, upon their cleverness and knowledge of the world, of whom all one could say was, The man is dead; the man is lost, unless God brings him to life again by His quickening Spirit: for goodness is dead in him; the powers of his soul are dead in him; the hope of being a better man is dead in him; all that God wishes to see him be and do, is dead; God's likeness and glory in him is dead: he thinks himself wise, and he is a fool in God's sight; for he sees not God's law, which is the only wisdom: he thinks himself strong, but he is utterly weak and helpless; for he is the slave of his own tempers, the slave of his own foul lust, the slave of his own pride and vanity, the slave of his own covetousness. Oh, my friends, people are apt to be afraid of what they call seeing a ghost--that is, a spirit without a body: they fancy that it would be a very shocking thing to meet one; but as for me, I know a far more dreadful sight; and that is, a careless and a hardened sinner--a body without a spirit. Which is uglier and ghastlier--a spirit without a body, or a body without a spirit? And yet such one meets, I dare not think how often. What sadder sight, if you recollect that men need not be thus; that God hates seeing them thus; that they become thus, and die down in sin, in spite of God, with all heaven above, and God the Lord thereof, crying to them, Why wilt thou die? What sadder sight? How many have I seen, living, to all intents and purposes, as if they had no souls; as if there were no God, no Law of God, no Right, no Wrong; caring for nothing, perhaps, but drink and bad women; or caring for nothing but scraping together a little more money than their neighbours; or caring for nothing but dress, and vanity, and gossiping, and tale-bearing; and yet, when one came to know them, one saw that _that_ was not what God intended them to be; that He had given them hearts which they had hardened, good feelings which they had crushed, sound brains which they had left idle, till one was ready to weep over them, as over something beautiful and noble ruined and lost; and looked on them as one would on a grand tree struck by lightning, decayed and dead, useless, and only fit to be burned, with just enough of its proper shape to show what a tree it ought to have been. And so it is with men and women: hardly a day passes but one sees some one of whom one says, with a sigh, 'What a worthy, loveable, useful person, that might have been! what a blessing to himself and all around him! and now, by following his fallen nature, and indulging it, he is neither worthy, nor loveable, nor useful; neither a blessing to himself nor to any human being: he might have been good for so much, and now he is good for nothing; for the spirit, the immortal soul which God gave him, is dead within him.' My friends, I would not say this, unless I could say more. I would not say sad words, if I could not follow them up by joyful and hopeful ones. It is written, 'If ye live after the flesh, ye shall die;' but it is written also, 'If ye, through the Spirit, do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live.' It is promised--promised, my friends, 'Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.' Through the Spirit, through God's Spirit, every soul here can live, now and for ever. Through God's Spirit, Christ not only can, but will, give you light. And that Spirit is near you, with you. Your baptism is the blessed sign, the everlasting pledge, that God's Spirit is with you. Oh, believe that, and take heart. I will not say, you do not know how much good there is in you; for in us dwells no good thing, and every good thought and feeling comes only from the Spirit of God: but I will say boldly to every one of you, you do not know how much good there may be in you, if you will listen to those good thoughts of God's Spirit; you do not know how wise, how right, how strong, how happy, how useful, you may become; you do not know what a blessing each of you may become to yourselves, and to all around you. Only make up your mind to live by God's law; only make up your mind, in all things, small and great, to go God's way, and not your own. Only make up your mind to listen, not to your own flesh, temper, and brain, which say this and that is pleasant, but to listen to God's Spirit, which says this is right, and that is wrong: this is your duty, do it. Search out your own besetting sins; and if you cannot find them out for yourself, ask God to show you them; ask Him to give you truth in the inward parts, and make you to understand wisdom in the secret places of your heart. Pray God's Spirit to quicken your soul, and bring it to life, that it may see and love what is good, and see and hate what is wrong; and instead of being most hard on your neighbour's sin, to which you are not tempted, be most hard on your own sin, on the sin to which you are most tempted, whatsoever that may be. You have your besetting sin, doubt it not; every one has. I know that I have. I know that I have inclinations, tempers, longings, to which if I gave way, my soul would rot and die within me, and make me a curse to myself, and you, and every one I came near; and all I can do is to pray God's Spirit to help me to fight those besetting sins of mine, and crush them, and stamp them down, whenever they rise and try to master me, and make me live after the flesh. It is a hard fight; and may God forgive me, for I fight it ill enough: but it is my only hope for my soul's life, my only hope of remaining a man worth being called a man, or doing my duty at all by myself and you, and all mankind. And it is your only hope, too. Pray for God's Spirit, God's strength, God's life, to give your souls life, day by day, that you may fight against your sins, whatsoever they are, lest they kill your souls, long before disease and old age kill your bodies. Make up your minds to it. Make up your minds to mortify the deeds of the body; to say to your own bodies, tempers, longings, fancies, 'I will not go your way: you shall go God's way. I am not your debtor; I owe you nothing; I am God's debtor, and owe Him everything, and I will pay Him honestly with the service of my body, soul, and spirit. I will do my duty, and you, my flesh, must and shall do it also, whether it is pleasant at first, or not:' and be sure it will be pleasant at last, if not at first. Keep God always before your eyes. Ask yourself in every action, 'What is right, what is my duty, what would God have me do?' And so far from finding it unpleasant, you will find that you are saving yourself a thousand troubles, and sorrows, and petty anxieties which now torment you; you will find that in God's presence is life, the only life worth having, and that at His right hand are pleasures for evermore. Oh, be sure, my friends, that in real happiness you will not lose, but gain without end. If to have a clear conscience, and a quiet mind; if to be free from anxiety and discontent, free from fear and shame; if to be loved, respected, looked up to, by all whose good word is worth having, and to know that God approves of you, that all day long God is with you, and you with God, that His loving and mighty arms are under you, that He has promised to keep you in all your ways, to prosper all you do, and reward you for ever,--if this be not happiness, my friends, what is? SERMON XVIII. SHAME Romans x. 11. For the Scripture saith, Whosoever believeth on Him shall not be ashamed. My friends, what this text really means is one thing; what we may choose to think it means is another thing--perhaps a very different thing. I will try and show you what I believe it really means. 'Whosoever believeth on Him shall not be ashamed.' It seems as if St. Paul thought, that not being ashamed had to do with salvation, and being saved; ay, that they were almost the same thing: for he says just before, if thou doest so and so, thou shalt be saved; for with the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation; _for_ the Scripture saith, 'Whosoever believeth on Him shall not be ashamed;' as if being ashamed was the very thing from which we were to be saved. And certainly that wise and great man, whoever he was (some say he was St. Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, in Italy), who wrote the Te Deum, thought the same; for how does he end the Te Deum? 'O Lord, in Thee have I trusted: let me never be confounded,' that is, brought to shame. You see, after he has spoken of God, and the everlasting glory of God, of Cherubim and Seraphim, that is, all the powers of the earth and the powers of the heavens, of Apostles, Prophets, Martyrs, the Holy Church, all praising God, and crying 'Holy, holy, holy. Lord God of Hosts, Heaven and Earth are full of the majesty of Thy glory;' after he has spoken of the mystery of the Trinity, Father and Son and Holy Ghost, of Christ's redemption and incarnation, and ascension and glory; of His judging the world; of His government, and His lifting up His people for ever; after he has prayed God to keep them this day without sin, and to let His mercy lighten upon them; after all this, at the end of this glorious hymn, all that he has to say is, 'O Lord, in Thee have I trusted: let me never be confounded.'--All he has to say: but that is a great deal: he does not say that merely because he wants to say something more, and has nothing else to say. Not so. In all great hymns and writings like this, the end is almost sure to be the strongest part of all, to have the very pith and marrow of the whole matter in it, as I believe this end of the Te Deum has; and I believe that whoever wrote it thought that being confounded, and brought to shame, was just the most horrible and wretched thing which could happen to him, or any man, and the thing above all others from which he was most bound to pray God to save him and every human being. Now, how is this? First, let us look at what coming to shame is; and next, how believing in Christ will save us from it. Now, every man and woman of us here, who has one spark of good feeling in them, will surely agree, that coming to shame is dreadful; and that there is no pain or torment on earth like the pain of being ashamed of oneself: nothing so painful. And I will prove it to you. You call a man a brave man, if he is afraid of nothing: but there is one thing the very bravest man is afraid of, and that is of disgrace, of coming to shame. Ay, my friends, so terrible is the torment of shame, that you may see brave men,--men who would face death in battle, men who would have a limb cut off without a groan, you may see such, in spite of all their courage, gnash their teeth, and writhe in agony, and weep bitter tears, simply because they are ashamed of themselves, so terrible and unbearable is the torment of shame. It may drive a man to do good or evil: it may drive him to do good; as when, rather than come to shame, and be disgraced, soldiers will face death in battle willingly and cheerfully, and do deeds of daring beyond belief: or it may drive him to do evil; rather than come to shame, men have killed themselves, choosing, unhappy and mistaken men, rather to face the torment of hell than the torment of disgrace. They are mistaken enough, God knows. But shame, like all powerful things, will work for harm as well as for good; and just as a wholesome and godly shame may be the beginning of a man's repentance and righteousness, so may an unwholesome and ungodly shame be the cause of his despair and ruin. But judge for yourselves; think over your past lives. Were you ever once--were it but for five minutes-- utterly ashamed of yourself? If you were, did you ever feel any torment like _that_? In all other misery and torment one feels hope; one says, 'Still life is worth having, and when the sorrow wears away I shall be cheerful and enjoy myself again:' but when one has come to shame, when one is not only disgraced in the eyes of other people, but disgraced (which is a thousand times worse) in one's own eyes; when one feels that people have real reason to despise one, then one feels for the time as if life was _not_ worth having; as if one did not care whether one died or not, or what became of one: and yet as if dying would do one no good, change of place would do one no good, time's running on would do one no good; as if what was done could not be undone, and the shame would be with one still, and torment one still, wherever one was, and if one was to live a million years: ay, that it would be everlasting: one feels, in a word, that real shame and deserved disgrace is verily and indeed an everlasting torment. And it is this, and the feeling of this, which explains why poor wretches will kill themselves, as Judas Iscariot did, and rush into hell itself, under the horror and pain of shame and disgrace. They feel a hell within them so hot, that they actually fancy that they can be no worse off beyond the grave than they are on this side of it. They are mistaken: but that is the reason; the misery of disgrace is so intolerable, that they are willing, like that wretched Judas, to try any mad and desperate chance to escape it. So much for shame's being a dreadful and horrible thing. But again, it is a spiritual thing: it grows and works not in our fleshly bodies, but in our spirits, our consciences, our immortal souls. You may see this by thinking of people who are not afraid of shame. You do not respect them, or think them the better for that. Not at all. If a man is not afraid of shame; if a man, when he is found out, and exposed, and comes to shame, does not care for it, but 'brazens out his own shame,' as we say, we do not call him brave; we call him what he is, a base impudent person, lost to all good feeling. Why, what harder name can we call any man or woman, than to say that they are 'shameless,' dead to shame? We know that it is the very sign of their being dead in sin, the very sign of God's Spirit having left them; that till they are made to feel shame there is no hope of their mending or repenting, or of any good being put into them, or coming out of them. So that this feeling of shame is a spiritual feeling, which has to do with a man's immortal soul, with his conscience, and the voice of God in his heart. Now, consider this: that there will surely come to you and me, and every living soul, a day of judgment; a day in which we shall be judged. Think honestly of those two words. First, a day, not a mere time, much less a night. Now, in a day there is light, by which men can see, and a sun in heaven which shows all things clearly. In that day, that brightest and clearest of all days, we shall see what we really have been, and what we really have done; and for aught we know, every one round us, every one with whom we have ever had to do, will see it also. The secrets of all our hearts will be disclosed; and we shall stand before heaven and earth simply for what we are, and neither more nor less. That is a fearful thought! Shall we come to shame in that day? And it will be a day of judgment: in it we shall be judged. I do not mean merely condemned, for we may be acquitted: or punished, for we may be rewarded; those things come after being judged. First, let us think of what being judged is. A judge's business is to decide on what we have done, or whether we have broken the law or not; to hear witnesses for us and against us, to sum up the evidence, and set forth the evidence for us and the evidence against us. And our judge will be the Son of Man, the Lord Jesus Christ, who is sharper than a two-edged sword, piercing through the very joints and marrow, and discerning the secret intents of the heart; neither is anything hid from Him, for all things are naked and open in the sight of Him with whom we have to do. With whom we _have_ to do, mind: not merely with whom we _shall_ have to do; for He sees all _now_, He knows all now. Ever since we were born, there has not been a thought in our heart but He has known it altogether. And He is utterly just--no respecter of persons; like His own wisdom, without partiality and without hypocrisy. O Lord! who shall stand in that day? O Lord! if thou be extreme to mark what is done amiss, who shall abide it? O Lord! in thee have I trusted: let me never be confounded! For this is being confounded; this is shame itself. This is the intolerable, horrible, hellish shame and torment, wherein is weeping and gnashing of teeth; this is the everlasting shame and contempt to which, as Daniel prophesied, too many should awake in that day--to be found guilty in that day before God and Christ, before our neighbours and our relations, and worst of all, before ourselves. Worst of all, I say, before ourselves. It would be dreadful enough to have all the bad things we ever did or thought told openly against us to all our neighbours and friends, and to see them turn away from us;--dreadful to find out at last (what we forget all day long) that God knows them already; but more dreadful to know them all ourselves, and see our sins in all their shamefulness, in the light of God, as God Himself sees them;--more dreadful still to see the loving God and the loving Christ turn away from us;--but most dreadful of all to turn away from ourselves; to be utterly discontented with ourselves; ashamed of ourselves; to see that all our misery is our own fault, that we have been our own enemies; to despise ourselves, and hate ourselves for ever; to try for ever to get rid of ourselves, and escape from ourselves as from some ugly and foul place in which we were ashamed to be seen for a moment: and yet not to be able to get rid of ourselves. Yes, that will be the true misery of a lost soul, to be ashamed of itself, and hate itself. Who shall deliver a man from the body of that death? I thank God, through Jesus Christ our Lord. I thank God, that at least now, here, in this life, we can be delivered. There is but one hope for us all; one way for us all, not to come to utter shame. And this is in the Lord Jesus Christ, who has said, 'Though your sins be red as scarlet they shall be white as wool; and their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.' One hope, to cast ourselves utterly on His boundless love and mercy, and cry to Him, 'Blot these sins of mine out of Thy book, by Thy most precious blood, which is a full atonement for the sins of the whole world; and blot them out of my heart by Thy Holy Spirit, that I may hate them and renounce them, and flee from them, and give them up, and be Thy servant, and do Thy work, and have Thy righteousness, and do righteous things like Thee.' And then, my friends, how or why we cannot understand; but it is God's own promise, who cannot lie, that He will really and actually forgive these sins of ours, and blot them out as if we had never done them, and give us clean hearts and right spirits, to live new lives, right lives, lives like His own life; so that our past sinful lives shall be behind us like a dream, and we shall find them forgotten and forgiven in the day of judgment;--wonderful mercy! but listen to it--it is God's own promise--'If the wicked man turneth away from all his sins that he hath committed, and keep all my statutes, and do that which is lawful and right, he shall surely live, he shall not die. All his transgressions that he hath committed, they shall not be mentioned to him: in his righteousness that he hath done he shall live.' They shall not be mentioned to him. My friends, if, as I have been showing, the great misery, the great horror of all, is having our sins mentioned to us in That Day, and being made utterly ashamed by them, what greater mercy can we want than this--not to have them mentioned to us, and not to come to shame; not to be plagued for ever with the hideous ghosts of our past bad thoughts, bad words, bad deeds, coming all day long to stare us in the face, and cry to us while the accusing Devil holds them up to us, as if in a looking- glass--'Look at your own picture. This is what you are. This fool, this idler, this mean, covetous, hard-hearted man, who cared only for himself;--this stupid man, who never cared to know his duty or do his duty;--this proud, passionate, revengeful man, who returned evil for evil, took his brothers by the throat, and exacted from them the uttermost farthing;--this ridiculous, foolish, useless, disagreeable, unlovely, unlovable person, who went through the world neither knowing what he ought to do, nor whither he was going, but was utterly blind and in a dream; this person is you yourself. Look at your own likeness, and be confounded, and utterly ashamed for ever!' What greater misery than that? What greater blessing than to escape that? What greater blessing than to be able to answer the accusing Devil, 'Not so, liar! This is not my likeness. This ugly, ridiculous, hateful person is not I. I was such a one once, but I am not now. I am another man now; and God knows that I am, though you may try to shame me by telling me that I am the same man. I was wrong, but I am right now; I was as a sheep going astray, but now I am returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of my soul, to whom I belonged all the while; and now I am right, in the right road; for with the heart I have believed God unto righteousness, and He has given me a clean heart, and a right spirit, and has purged me, and will purge me, till I am clean, and washed me till I am whiter than snow; I do not deny one of my old sins; I did them, I know that; I confess them to thee now, oh accusing Devil; but I confessed them to God, ay, and to man too, long ago, and by confessing them to Him I was saved from them; for with the mouth confession is made unto salvation. And what is more; I have not only confessed my own sins, but I have confessed Christ's righteousness; and I confess it now. I confess, I say, that Christ is perfectly righteous and good, the Perfect Pattern of what I ought to be; and because He is perfectly good, He does not wish to see me remain bad and sinful, that He may taunt me and torment me with my sins, as thou the accusing Devil dost: but He wishes to make me and every man good like Himself, blest like Himself; and He can do it, and will do it, if we will but give up our hearts to Him; and I have given up my heart to Him. All I ask of Him is to be made good and kept good, set right and kept right; and I can trust in Him utterly to do that; for He is faithful and just to forgive me my sins, and cleanse me from all unrighteousness. Therefore, accuse me not, Devil! for thou hast no share in me: I belong to Christ, and not to thee. And set not my old sins before my face; for God has set them behind His back, because I have renounced them, and sworn an oath against them, and Christ has nailed them to His cross, and now they are none of mine and none of thine, but are cast long ago into the everlasting fire of God, and burnt up and done with for ever; and I am a new man, and God's man; and He has justified me, and will justify me, and make me just and right; and neither thou, nor any man, has a right to impute to me my past sins, for God does not impute them to me; and neither thou, nor any man, has a right to condemn me, for God has justified me. And if it please God to humble me more (for I know I want humbling every day), and to show me more how much I owe to Him--if it please Him, I say, to bring to light any of my past sins, I shall take it patiently as a wholesome chastening of my Heavenly Father's; and I trust to all God's people, and to angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect, that they will look on my past sins as God looks on them, mercifully and lovingly, as things past and dead, forgiven and blotted out of God's book, by the precious blood of Christ, and look on me as I am in Christ, not having any righteousness of my own, but Christ's righteousness, which comes by the inspiration of His own Holy Spirit.' Thus, my friends, we may answer the Devil, when he stands up to accuse us, and confound us in the Day of Judgment. Thus we may answer him now, when, in melancholy moments, he sets our sins before our face, and begins taunting us, and crying, 'See what a wretch you are, what a hypocrite, too. What would all the world think of you, if they knew as much against you as I do? What would the world think of you, if they saw into that dirty heart of yours?' For we can answer him--'Whatever the world would think, I know what God Himself thinks: He thinks of me as of a son who, after wasting his substance, and feeding on husks with the swine, has come home to his Father's house, and cried, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before Thee, and am no more worthy to be called Thy son; and I know that that same good Heavenly Father, instead of shaming me, reproaching me, shutting His doors against me, has seen me afar off, and taken me home again without one harsh word, and called to all the angels in heaven, saying, "It is meet that we rejoice and be glad, for this My son was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found." And while Almighty God, who made heaven and earth, is saying that of me, it matters little what the lying Devil may say.' Only, only, if you be wandering from your Father's house, come home; if you be wrong, entreat to be made right. If you are in your Father's house, stay there; if you are right, pray and struggle to keep right; if the old account is blotted out, then, for your soul's sake, run up no fresh account to stand against you after all in the Day of Judgment; if you have the hope in you of not coming to shame, you must purify yourselves, even as God is pure; if you believe really with your heart, you must believe unto righteousness; that is, you must trust God to make you righteous and good: there is no use trusting Him to make you anything else, for He will make you nothing else; being good Himself, He will only make you good: but as for trusting in Him to leave you bad, to leave you quiet in your sins, and then to save you after all, that is trusting that God will do a most unjust, and what is more, a most cruel thing to you; that is trusting God to do the Devil's work; that is a blasphemous false trust, which will be utterly confounded in the Day of Judgment, and will cover you with double shame. The whole question for each of us is, 'Do we believe unto righteousness?' Is righteousness what we want? Is to be made good men what we want? If not, no confessing with the mouth will be unto salvation, for how can a man be saved in his sins? If an animal is diseased can it be saved from dying without curing the disease? If a tree be decayed, can it be saved from dying without curing the decay? If a man be bad and sinful, can he be saved from eternal death without curing his badness and sinfulness? How can a man be saved from his sins but by becoming sinless? As well ask, Can a man be saved from his sins without being saved from his sins? But if you wish really to be saved from your sins, and taken out of them, and cured of them, that you may be made good men, righteous men, useful men, just men, loving men, Godlike men;--then trust in God for that, and you will find that your trust will be unto righteousness, for you will become righteous men; and confess God with your mouth for that, saying, 'I believe in God my Father; I believe in Jesus Christ His Son, who died, and rose, and ascended on high for me; I believe in God's Holy Spirit, which is with me, to make me right;' and your confession will be unto salvation, for you will be saved from your sins. Always say to yourself this one thing, 'Good I will become, whatever it cost me; and in God's goodness I trust to make me good, for I am sure He wishes to see me good, more than I do myself; and you will find that because you have confessed, in that best and most honest of ways, that God is good, and have so given Him real glory, and real honour, and real praise, He will save you from the sins which torment you: and that because you have really trusted in Him, you shall never come, either in this world, or the world to come, to that worst misery, the being ashamed of yourself. SERMON XIX. FORGIVENESS Psalm li. 16, 17. Thou desirest not sacrifice; else would I give it: thou delightest not in burnt offering. The sacrifice of God is a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise. You all heard just now the story of Nathan and David, and you must have all felt how beautiful, and noble, and just it was; how it declares that there is but one everlasting God's law of justice, which is above all men, even the greatest; and that what is right for the poor man is right for the king upon his throne, for God is no respecter of persons. And you must have admired, too, the frankness, and fulness, and humbleness of David's repentance, and liked and loved the man still, in spite of his sins, as much almost as you did when you heard of him as a shepherd boy slaying the giant, or a wanderer and an outlaw among the hills and forests of Judaea. But did it now seem strange to you that David's repentance, which was so complete when it did come, should have come no sooner? Did he need Nathan to tell him that he had done wrong? He seduced another man's wife, and that man one of his most faithful servants, one of the most brave and loyal generals of his army; and then, over and above his adultery, he had plotted the man's death, and had had him killed and put out of the way in as base, and ungrateful, and treacherous a fashion as I ever heard of. His whole conduct in the matter had been simply villanous. There is no word too bad for it. And do you fancy that he had to wait the greater part of a year before the thought came into his head that that was not the fashion in which a man ought to behave, much more a king?--that God's blessing was not on such doings as those?--and after all not find out for himself that he was wrong, but have to be told of it by Nathan? Surely, if he had any common sense, any feeling of right and wrong left in him, he must have known that he had done a bad thing; and his guilty conscience must have tormented him many a time and oft during those months, long before Nathan came to him. Now, that he had the feeling of right and wrong left in him, we cannot doubt; for when Nathan told him the parable of the rich man who spared all his own flocks and herds, and took the poor man's one ewe lamb, his heart told him that _that_ was wrong and unjust, and he cried out, 'The man who has done this thing shall surely die.' And surely that feeling of right and wrong could not have been quite asleep in him all those months, and have been awakened then for the first time. But more; if we look at two psalms which he wrote about that time, we shall find that his conscience had _not_ been dead in him, but had been tormenting him bitterly; and that he had been trying to escape from it, and afterwards to repent--only in a wrong way. If we look at the Thirty-second Psalm, we shall see there he had begun, by trying to deceive himself, to excuse himself before God. But that had only made him the more miserable. 'When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my daily complaining. For Thy hand was heavy on me night and day: my moisture was turned to the drought of summer.' Then he had tried sacrifices. He had fancied, I suppose, that he could make God pleased with him again by showing great devoutness, by offering bullocks and goats without number, as sin-offerings and peace-offerings; but that made him no happier. At last he found out that God required no sacrifice but a broken heart. That was what God wanted--a broken and a contrite heart; for David to be utterly ashamed of himself, utterly broken down and silenced, so that he had nothing left to plead--neither past good deeds, nor present devoutness, nor sacrifices: nothing but, 'O God, I deserve all Thou canst lay on me, and more. Have mercy on me--mercy is all I ask.' There was nothing for him, you see, but to make a clean breast of it; to face his sin, and all its shame and abomination, and confess it all, and throw himself on God's mercy. And when he did that, there, then, and at once, as Nathan told him, God put away his sin. As David says himself, 'I said, I will confess my sins unto the Lord, and so Thou forgavest the wickedness of my sin.' As it is written, 'If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' And now, my friends, what lesson may we learn from this? It is easy to say, We have not sinned as deeply as David, and therefore his story has nothing to do with us. My friends, whether we have sinned as deeply as David or not, his story has to do with you, and me, and every soul in this church, and every soul in the whole world, or it would not be in the Bible. For no prophecy of Scripture is of private interpretation; that is, it does not only point at one man here and another there: but those who wrote it were moved by the Holy Ghost, who lays down the eternal universal laws of holiness, of right and good, which are right and good for you, and me, and all mankind; and therefore David's story has to do with you and me every time we do wrong, and know that we have done wrong. Now, my friends, when you have done a wrong thing, you know your conscience torments you with it; you are uneasy, and discontented with yourselves, perhaps cross with those about you; you hardly know why: or rather, though you do know why, you do not like to tell yourself why. The bad thing which you have done, or the bad tempers which you have given way to, or the person whom you have quarrelled with, hang in your mind, and darken all your thoughts: and you try not to remember them: but conscience _makes_ you remember them, and will not let the dark thought fly away; till you can enjoy nothing, because your heart is not clean and clear; there is something in the background which makes you sad whenever you try to be happy. Then a man tries first to deceive himself. He says to himself, 'No, that sin is not what makes me unhappy--not that;' and he tries to find out any and every reason for his uncomfortable feelings, except the very thing which he knows all the while in the bottom of his heart _is_ the real reason. He says, 'Well, perhaps I am unhappy because I have done something wrong: what wrong can I have done?' And so he sets to work to find out every sin except _the_ sin which is the cause of all, because that one he does not like to face: it is too real, and ugly, and humbling to his proud spirit; and perhaps he is afraid of having to give it up. So I have known a man confess himself a sinner, a miserable sinner, freely enough, and then break out into a rage with you, if you dare to speak a word of the one sin which you know that he has actually committed. 'No, sir,' he will say, 'whatever I may be wrong in, I am right _there_. I have committed sins too many, I know: but you cannot charge me with that, at least;'--and all the more because he knows that everybody round _is_ charging him with it, and that the thing is as notorious as the sun in heaven. But that makes him, in his pride, all the more determined not to confess himself in the wrong on that one point; and he will go and confess to God, and perhaps to man, all manner of secret sins, nay, even invent sins for himself out of things which are no sins, and confess himself humbly in the wrong where perhaps he is all right, just to drug his conscience, and be able to say, 'I have repented,'--repented, that is, of everything but what he and all the world know that he ought to repent of. But still his conscience is not easy: he has no peace of mind: he is like David: 'While I held my peace, my bones waxed old through my daily complaining.' God's hand is heavy on him day and night, and his moisture is like the drought in summer: his heart feels hard and dry; he cannot enjoy himself; he is moody; he lies awake and frets at night, and goes listlessly and heavily about his business in the morning; his heart is not right with God, and he knows it; God and he are not at peace, and he knows it. Then he tries to repent: but it is a false, useless sort of repentance. He says to Himself, as David did, 'Well, then, I will make my peace with God: I will please Him. I have done one wrong thing. I will do two right ones to make up for it.' If he is a rich man, he perhaps tries David's plan of burnt-offerings and sacrifices. He says, 'I will give away a great deal in charity; I will build a church; I will take a great deal of trouble about societies, and speak at religious meetings, and show God how much I really do care for Him after all, and what great sacrifices I can make for Him.' Or, if he is a poor man, he will say, 'Well, then, I will try and be more religious; I will think more about my soul, and come to church as often as I can, and say my prayers regularly, and read good books; and perhaps that will make my peace with God. At all events, God shall see that I am not as bad as I look; not altogether bad; that I do care for Him, and for doing right.' But, rich or poor, the man finds out by bitter experience how truly David said, 'Thou requirest no sacrifice, else would I give it Thee. Thou delightest not in burnt-offerings.' Not that they are not good and excellent; but that they are not good coming from him, because his heart is still unrepentant, because, instead of confessing his sin and throwing himself on God's mercy, he is trying to win God round to overlook his sin. So almsgiving, and ordinances, and prayer give the poor man no peace. He rises from his knees unrefreshed. He goes out of church with as heavy a heart as he went in, and he finds that for all his praying he does not become a better man, any more than a happier man. There is still that darkness over his soul, like a black cloud spread between him and God. My friends, if any of you find yourselves in this sad case, the only remedy which I can give you, the only remedy which I ever found do _me_ any good, or give me back my peace of mind, is David's remedy; the one which he found out at last, and which he spoke of in these blessed Psalms. Confess your sin to God. Bring it all out. Make a clean breast of it--whatever it may cost you, make a clean breast of it. Only be but _honest_ with God, and all will come right at once. Say, not with your lips only, but from the very bottom of your heart, say, 'Oh, good God, Heavenly Father, I have _nothing_ to say; I am wrong, and yet I do not know how wrong I am; but Thou knowest. Thou seest all my sin a thousand times more clearly than I do; and if I look black and foul to myself, oh God, how much more black and how foul must I look to Thee! I know not. All I know is, that I am utterly wrong, and Thou utterly right. I am shapen in sin, conceived in iniquity. My heart it is that is wrong. Not merely this or that wrong which I have done; but my heart, my temper, which will have its own way, which cares for itself, and not for Thee. I have nothing to plead; nothing to throw into the other scale. For if I have ever done right, it was Thou didst right in me, and not me myself, and only my sins are my own doing; so the good in me is all Thine, and the bad in me all my own, and in _me_ dwells no good thing. And as for excusing myself by saying that I love Thee, I had better tell the truth, since Thou knowest it already--I do _not_ love Thee. Oh God, I love myself, my pitiful, miserable self, well enough, and too well: but as for loving Thee--how many of my good deeds have been done for love of Thee? I have done right from fear of hell, from hope of heaven; or to win Thy blessings: but how often have I done right really and purely for Thy sake? I am ashamed to think! My only comfort, my only hope, is, that whether I love Thee or not, Thou lovest me, and hast sent Thy Son to seek and save me. Help me now. Save me now out of my sin, and darkness, and self-conceit. Show Thy love to me by setting this wrong heart of mine right. Give me a clean heart, oh God, and renew a right spirit within me. If I be wrong myself, how can I make myself right? No; Thou must do it. Thou must purge me, or I shall never be clean; Thou must make me to understand wisdom in the secret depth of my heart, or I shall never see my way. Thou must, for I cannot; and base and bad as I am, I can believe that Thou wilt condescend to help me and teach me, because I know Thy love in Jesus Christ my Lord. And _then_ Thou wilt be pleased with my sacrifices and oblations, because they come from a right heart--a truly humble, honest, penitent heart, which is not trying to deceive God, or plaster over its own baseness and weakness, but confesses all, and yet trusts in God's boundless love. Then my alms will rise as a sweet savour before Thee, oh God; then sacraments will strengthen me, ordinances will teach me, good books will speak to my soul, and my prayers will be answered by peace of mind, and a clear conscience, and the sweet and strengthening sense that I am in my Heavenly Father's house, about my Heavenly Father's business, and that His smile is over me, and His blessing on me, as long as I remain loyal to Him and to His laws.' Feel thus, my friends, and speak to God thus, and see if the dark stupefying cloud does not pass away from your heart--see if there and then does not come sunshine and strength, and the sweet assurance that you are indeed forgiven. But how about this old sin, which caused the man all this trouble? He began by trying to forget it. I think, if he be a true penitent, he will not wish to forget it any more. He will not torment himself about it, for he knows that God has forgiven him. But the more he feels God has forgiven him, the less likely he will be to forgive himself. The more sure he feels of God's love and mercy, the more utterly ashamed of himself he will be. And what is more, it is not wise to forget our own sins, when God has not forgotten them. For God does not forget our sins, though He forgives them; and a very bad thing it would be for us if He did, my friends. For the wages of sin is death: and even if God does not slay us for our sins, He is certain to punish us for them in some way, lest we should forget that sin is sin, and fancy that God's mercy is only careless indulgence. So God did to David. He then told him that though he was forgiven he would still be punished, 'The Lord has put away thy sin; nevertheless, the child that shall be born unto thee shall surely die.' Punishment and forgiveness went together. Ay, if we will look at it rightly, David's being punished was the very sign that God had forgiven him. Oh, believe that, my friends; face it; thank God for it. I at least do, when I look back upon my past life, and see that for every wrong I have ever done, I have been punished: not punished a tenth part as much as I deserve; but still punished, more or less, and made to smart for my own folly, and to learn, by hard unmistakable experience, that it will not pay me, or any man, to break the least of God's laws; and I thank God for it. I tell you to thank God also, whensoever you are punished for your sins. It is a sign that God cares for you, that God loves you, that God is training and educating you, that God is your Father, and He is dealing with you as with His sons. For what son is there whom His Father does not chastise? It is a bitter lesson, no doubt; but we have deserved it: then let us bear it like men. No doubt it is bitter: but there is a blessing in it. No chastisement at first seems pleasant, says the Apostle, but rather grievous: yet afterwards it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness to those who are exercised thereby. Be exercised by it, then. Let God teach you in His own way, even if it seem a harsh and painful way. We have had earthly fathers, says the Apostle, who corrected us, and we gave them reverence. Shall we not much rather be in subjection to God, the Father of Spirits, and live? For suffering and punishment is the way to Eternal Life--to that true Eternal Life which is knowing God and God's love, and becoming like God. As the Apostle says, God chastens us only for our profit, that we may be partakers of His holiness. And as king Hezekiah says of affliction, 'Lord, by _these_ things,' by sorrow and chastisement, 'men live; and in all these things is the life of the spirit.' May God give to you, and me, and all mankind, as often as we do wrong, honest and good hearts to confess our sins thoroughly, and take our punishment meekly, and trust in God's boundless mercy, in order that if we humble ourselves under His rod, and learn His lessons faithfully in this life, we may not need a worse punishment in the life to come, but be accepted in the last great Day for the sake of Jesus Christ, our blessed Lord and Saviour. SERMON XX. THE TRUE GENTLEMAN 1 Cor. xii. 31; xiii. 1. Covet earnestly the best gifts: and yet shew I unto you a more excellent way. Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. My friends, let me say a few plain words this morning to young and old, rich and poor, upon this text. Now you all, I suppose, think it a good thing to be gentlemen and ladies. All of you, I say. There is not a poor man in this church, perhaps, who has not before now said in his heart, 'Ah, if I were but a gentleman!' or a poor woman who has not said in her heart, 'Ah, if I were but a lady!' You see round you in the world thousands plotting and labouring all their lives long to make money and grow rich, that they may become (as they think) gentlemen, or, at least, their sons after them. And those here who are what the world calls gentlemen and ladies, know very well that those names are names which are very precious to them; and would sooner give up house, land, money, all the comforts upon earth, than give up being called gentlemen and ladies; and these last know, I trust, what some poor people do not know, and what no man knows who fancies that he can make a gentleman of himself merely by gaining money, and setting up a fine house, and a good table, and horses and carriages, and indulging the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eye, and the pride of life; for these last ought to know that the right to be called gentlemen and ladies is something which this world did not give, and cannot take away; so that if they were brought to utter poverty and rags, or forced to dig the ground for their own livelihood, they would be gentlemen and ladies still, if they ever had been really and truly such; and what is more, they would make every one who met them feel that they were gentlemen and ladies, in spite of all their poverty. Now, people do not often understand clearly why this is. They feel, more or less, that so it is; but they cannot explain it. I could tell you why they cannot; but I will not take up your time. But if they cannot explain it, there are those who can. St. Paul explains it in the Epistle. The Lord Jesus Himself explains it in the Gospel. They tell us why money will not make a gentleman. They tell us why poverty will not unmake one: but they tell us more. They tell us the one only thing which makes a true gentleman. And they tell us more still. They tell us how every one of us, down to the poorest and most ignorant man and woman in this church, may become true gentlemen and ladies, in the sight of God and of all reasonable men; and that, not only in this life, but after death, for ever, and ever, and ever. And that is by charity, by love. Now, if you will look two or three chapters back, in the Epistle to the Corinthians--at the 11th and 12th chapters--you will see that these Corinthians were behaving to each other very much as people are apt to do in England now. They all wanted to rise in life, and they wanted to rise upon each other's shoulders. Each man and woman wanted to set themselves up above their neighbours, and to look down upon them. The rich looked down on the poor, and kept apart from them at the Lord's Supper; and no doubt the poor envied the rich heartily enough in return. And these Corinthians were very religious, and some of them, too, very clever. So those who, being poor, could not set themselves up above their neighbours on the score of wealth, wanted to set themselves up on the score of their spiritual gifts. One looked down on his neighbours because he was a deeper scholar than they; another, because he had the gift of tongues, and understood more languages than they; another could prophesy better than any of them, and so, because he was a very eloquent preacher, he tried to get power over his neighbours, and abuse the talents which God had given him, to pamper his own pride and vanity, and love of managing and ordering people, and of being run after by silly women (as St. Paul calls them), ever learning and never coming to the knowledge of the truth. And of the rest, one party sided with one preacher, or one teacher, and another with another; and each party looked down on the other, and judged them harshly, and said bitter things of them, till, as St. Paul says, they were all split up by heresies, that is, by divisions, party spirit, envying, and grudging in the very Church of God, and at the very Table of The Lord. Now says St. Paul, 'Covet earnestly the best gifts: and yet show I you a more excellent way;' and that is charity; love. As much as to say, I do not complain of any of you for trying to be the best that you can, for trying to be as wise as you can be, as eloquent as you can be, as learned as you can be: I do not complain of you for trying to rise; but I _do_ complain of you for trying to rise upon each other's shoulders. I do complain of you for each trying to set up himself, and trying to make use of his neighbours instead of helping them; and, when God gives you gifts to do good to others with, trying to do good only to yourselves with them. For he says, you are all members of one body; and all the talents, gifts, understanding, power, money, which God has bestowed on you, He has given you only that you may help your neighbours with them. Of course there is no harm in longing and praying for great gifts, longing and praying to be very wise, or very eloquent; but only that you may do all the more good. And, after all, says St. Paul, there is something more worth longing for, not merely than money, but more worth longing for than the wisdom of a prophet, or the tongue of an angel; and that is charity. If you have _that_, you will be able to do as much good as God requires of you in your station; and if you have not that, you will not do what God requires of you, even though you spoke with the tongues of men and of angels. Even though you had the gift of prophecy, and understood all mysteries, and all knowledge; even though you had all faith, so that you could remove mountains; even though you had all good works, and gave all your goods to feed the poor, and your body to be burned as a martyr for the sake of religion, and had not charity, you would be nothing. Nothing, says St. Paul, but sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal--an empty vessel, which makes the more noise the less there is in it. If you have charity, says St. Paul, you will be able to do your share of good where God has put you, though you may be poor, and ignorant, and stupid, and weak; but if you have not charity, all the wisdom and learning, righteousness and eloquence in the world, will only give you greater power of doing harm. Yes, he says, I show you a more excellent way to be really great; a way by which the poorest may be as great as the richest,--the simple cottager's wife as great as the most accomplished lady; and that is charity, which comes from the Spirit of God. Pray for that--try after that; and if you want to know what sort of a spirit it is that you are to pray for and try after, I will tell you. Charity is the very opposite of the selfish, covetous, ambitious, proud, grudging spirit of this world. Charity suffers long, and is kind: charity does not envy: charity does not boast, is not puffed up: does not behave itself unseemly; that is, is never rude, or overbearing, or careless about hurting people's feelings by hard words or looks: seeketh not its own; that is, is not always looking on its own rights, and thinking about itself, and trying to help itself; is not easily provoked: thinketh no evil, that is, is not suspicious, ready to make out the worst case against every one; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; that is, is not glad, as too many are, to see people do wrong, and to laugh and sneer over their failings: but rejoiceth in the truth, tries to find out the truth about every one, and judge them honestly, and make fair allowances for them: covereth all things; that is, tries to hide a neighbour's sins as far as is right, instead of gossiping over them, and blazoning them up and down, as too many do: believeth all things; that is, gives every one credit for meaning well as long as it can: hopeth all things; that is, never gives any one up as past mending: endureth all things, keeps its temper, and keeps its tongue; not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing, but, on the contrary, blessing; and so overcomes evil with good. In one word, while the spirit of the world thinks of itself, and helps itself, Charity, which is the Spirit of God, thinks of other people, and helps other people. And now:--to be always thinking of other people's feelings, and always caring for other people's comfort, what is that but the mark, and the only mark, of a true gentleman, and a true lady? There is none other, my friends, and there never will be. But the poorest man or woman can do that; the poorest man or woman can be courteous and tender, careful not to pain people, ready and willing to help every one to the best of their power; and therefore, the poorest man or woman can be a true gentleman or a true lady in the sight of God, by the inspiration of the Spirit of God, whose name is Charity. They can be. And thanks be to the grace of God, they often are. I can say that I have seen among plain sailors and labouring men as perfect gentlemen (of God's sort) as man need see; but then they were _always_ pious and God-fearing men; and so the Spirit of God had made up to them for any want of scholarship and rank. They were gentlemen, because God's Spirit had made them gentle. For recollect all, both rich and poor, what that word gentleman means. It is simply a man who is gentle; who, let him be as brave or as wise as he will, yet, as St. Paul says, 'suffers long and is kind; does not boast, does not behave himself unseemly; is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil.' And recollect, too, what that word lady means. Most of you perhaps do not know. I will tell you. It means, in the ancient English tongue, a person who gives away bread; who deals out loaves to the poor. I have often thought that most beautiful, and full of meaning, a very message from God to all ladies, to tell them what they ought to be; and not to them only, but to the poorest woman in the parish; for who is too poor to help her neighbours? You see there is a difference between a Christian man's duty in this and a Christian woman's duty, though they both spring from the same spirit. The man, unless he be a clergyman, has not so much time as a woman for actually helping his neighbours by acts of charity. He must till the ground, sail the seas, attend to his business, fight the Queen's enemies; and the way in which the Holy Spirit of Charity will show in him will be more in his temper and his language; by making him patient, cheerful, respectful, condescending, courteous, reasonable, with every one whom he has to do with: but the woman has time to show acts of charity which the man has not. She can teach in the schools, sit by the sick bed, work with her hands for the suffering and the helpless, even though she cannot with her head. Above all, she can give those kind looks and kind words which comfort the broken heart better than money and bodily comforts can do. And she does do it, thank God! I do not merely mean in such noble instances of divine charity and self-sacrifice as those ladies who have gone out to nurse the wounded soldiers in the East--true ladies, indeed, of whom I fear more than one, ere they return, will be added to the noble army of martyrs, to receive in return for the great love which they have shown on earth, the full enjoyment of God's love in heaven:--not these only, but poor women--women who could not write their own names--women who had hardly clothes wherewith to keep themselves warm--women who were toiling all day long to feed and clothe their own children, till one wondered when in the twenty-four hours they could find five spare minutes for helping their neighbours;--such poor women have I seen, who in the midst of their own daily work and daily care, had still a heart open to hear every one's troubles; a head always planning little comforts and pleasures for others; and hands always busy in doing good. Instead of being made hard and selfish by their own troubles, they had been taught by them, as the Lord Jesus was, to feel for the troubles of all around them, and went about like ministering angels in the Spirit of God, which is peace on earth and goodwill towards men. Oh, my friends, such poor women seemed to me most glorious, most honourable, most venerable! What was all rank or fashion, beauty or accomplishments, when compared with the great honour which the Lord Jesus Christ was putting upon those poor women, by transforming them thus into His own most blessed likeness, and giving them grace to go about, as He the Lord Jesus did, doing good, because God was with them! Then I felt that such women, poor, and worn, and hard-handed as they were, were ladies in the sight of that Heavenly Father, who is no respecter of persons; and felt how truly a wise ancient has said,-- 'It is virtue, yea, virtue, gentlemen, which maketh gentlemen; which maketh the poor rich, the strong weak, the simple wise, the base- born noble. This rank neither the whirling wheel of Fortune can destroy, nor the deceitful cavillings of worldlings separate; neither sickness abate, nor time abolish.' No; for it is written, that though prophecies shall fail, tongues cease, knowledge vanish away, and all that we now know is but in part, yet charity shall never fail those who are full of the Spirit of Love, but abide with them for ever and ever, bringing forth fruit through all eternity to everlasting life. But what sort of virtue? Do not mistake that. Not what the world calls virtue; not mere legal respectability, which says, I do unto others as they do unto me; which is often merely the whitening outside the sepulchre, and leaves the heart within unrenewed, unrighteous, full of pride and ambition, conceit, cunning, and envy, and unbelief in God: not that virtue, but the virtue which the Apostle tells us to add to our faith, the virtue from above, which is the same as the wisdom from above, which is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated; in one word, the Holy Spirit of God, the Spirit of Divine Love and Charity, which seeketh not its own, which St. Paul has described to us in this epistle; the Holy Spirit of God, with which the Lord Jesus was filled without measure, and which He manifested to all the world in His most blessed life and death. Ah, my friends, this is not an easy lesson to learn. Christ's disciples and apostles could not learn it all at once. They tried to hinder little children from coming to Him. They rebuked the blind man who called after Him. How could the great Prophet of Nazareth stoop to trouble Himself about such poor insignificant people? They could not conceive, either, why the Lord Jesus should choose to die shamefully, when He might have lived in honour: it seemed unworthy of Him. They were shocked at His words. 'That be far from Thee, Lord,' said Peter. Afterwards, when they really understood what that word 'Lord,' meant, and what sort of a man a true and perfect Lord ought to be, then they saw how fit, and proper, and glorious, Christ's self-sacrifice was. When, too, they learnt to look on Him, not merely as a great prophet, but as the Son of the Living God, then they understood His conduct, and saw that it behoved an only-begotten Son of God to suffer all these things before He entered into His glory. But the Scribes and Pharisees never understood it. To the last they were puzzled and angered by that very self-sacrifice of His: He must be a bad man, they thought, or He would not care so much for bad men. 'A friend of publicans and sinners,' they called Him, thinking that a shameful blame to Him, while it was really the very highest praise. But if they could not see the beauty of His conduct, can we? It is very difficult, I do not deny it, my friends, for the selfishness and pride of fallen man: it is difficult to see that the Cross was the most glorious throne that was even set up on earth, and that the crown of thorns was worth all the crowns of czars and emperors: difficult, indeed, not to stumble at the stumbling-block of the Cross, and to say, 'It cannot surely be more blessed to give than to receive:' difficult, not to say in our hearts, 'The way to be great is surely to rise above other men, not to stoop below them; to make use of them, and not to make ourselves slaves to them.' And yet the Lord Jesus Christ did so; He took on Himself the form of a slave, and made Himself of no reputation: and what was fit and good for Him, must surely be fit and good for us. But it is a hard lesson to the pride of fallen creatures: very hard. And nothing, I believe, but sorrow will teach it us: sorrow is teaching it some of us now. We surely are beginning to see, that to suffer patiently for conscience sake, is the most beautiful thing on earth or in heaven: we begin to see that those poor soldiers, dying by inches of cold and weariness, without a murmur, because it was their Duty, were doing a nobler work even than they did when they fought at Alma and Inkermann; and that those ladies who are drudging in the hospitals, far away from home, amid filth and pestilence, are doing, if possible, a nobler work still, a nobler work than if they were queens or empresses, because they have taken up the Cross and followed Christ; because they are not seeking their own good, but the good of others. And if we will not learn it from those glorious examples, God will force us to learn it, I trust, every one of us, by sorrow and disappointment. Ah, my friends, might one not learn it at once, if one would but open one's eyes and look at things as they are? Every one is longing for something; each has his little plan for himself, of what he would like to be, and like to do, and says to himself all day long, 'If I could but get _that_ one thing, I should be happy: If I could but get that, then I should want no more!' Foolish man, self- deceived by his own lusts! Perhaps he cannot get what he wants, and therefore he cannot enjoy what he has, and is moody, discontented, peevish, a torment to himself, and perhaps a torment to his family. Or perhaps he does get what he wants: and is he happy after all? Not he. He is like the greedy Israelites of old, when they longed for the quails; and God sent the quails: but while the meat was yet in their mouths, they loathed it. So it is with a man's fancy. He gets what he fancies; and he plays with it for a day, as a child with a new toy, and most probably _spoils_ it, and next day throws it away to run after some new pleasure, which will cheat him in just the same way as the last did; and so happiness flits away ahead before him; and he is like the simple boy in the parable, who was to find a crock of gold where the rainbow touched the ground: but as he moved on, the rainbow moved on too, and kept always a field off from him. You may smile: but just as foolish is every soul of us, who fancies that he will become happy by making himself great; admired, rich, comfortable, in short, by making himself anything whatsoever, or getting anything whatsoever for himself. Just as foolish is every poor soul, and just as unhappy, as long as he will go on thinking about himself, instead of copying the Lord Jesus Christ, and thinking about others; as long as he will keep to the pattern of the old selfish Adam, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, the longings and fancies which deceive a man into expecting to be happy when he will not be happy; instead of putting on the new man, which after God's likeness is created in righteousness and true holiness: and what is true holiness but that very charity of which St. Paul has been preaching to us, the spirit of love, and mercy, and gentleness, and condescension, and patience, and active benevolence? Ah, my friends, do not forget what I said just now; that a man could not become happy by making himself anything. No. Not by making himself anything: but he may by letting God make him something. If he will let God make him a new creature in Jesus Christ, then he will be more than happy--he will be blessed: then he will be a blessing to himself, and a blessing to every one whom he meets: then all vain longing, and selfishness, and pride, and ambition, and covetousness, and peevishness and disappointment, will vanish out of his heart, and he will work manfully and contentedly where God has placed him--cheerful and open-hearted, civil and patient, always thinking about others, and not about himself; trying to be about his Master's business, which is doing good; and always finding too, that his Master Christ sets him some good work to do day by day, and gives him strength to do it. And how can a man get that blessed and noble state of mind? By prayer and practice. You must ask for strength from God: but then you must believe that He answers your prayer, and gives you that strength; and therefore you must try and use it. There is no more use in praying without practising than there is in practising without praying. You cannot learn to walk without walking: no more can you learn to do good without trying to do good. Ask, then, of God, grace and help to do good: Pray to Him this very day to take all selfishness and meanness out of your hearts, and to give you instead His Holy Spirit of Love and Charity, which alone can make you noble in His sight; and try this day, try every day of your lives, to do some good to those around you. Oh make a rule, and pray to God to help you to keep it, never, if possible, to lie down at night without being able to say, 'I have made one human being at least a little wiser, or a little happier, or a little better this day.' You will find it easier than you think, and pleasanter: easier, because if you wish to do God's work, God will surely find you work to do; and pleasanter, because in return for the little trouble it may cost you, or the little choking of foolish vulgar pride it may cost you, you will have a peace of mind, a quiet of temper, a cheerfulness and hopefulness about yourself and all around you, such as you never felt before; and over and above that, if you look for a reward in the life to come, recollect this--what we have to hope for in the life to come is, to enter into the joy of our Lord. And how did He fulfil that joy, but by humbling Himself, and taking the form of a slave, and coming not to be ministered to but to minister, and to give His whole life, even to the death upon the cross, a ransom for many? Be sure, that unless you take up His cross, you will not share His crown. Be sure, that unless you follow in His footsteps, you will never reach the place where He is. If you wish to enter into the joy of your Lord, be sure that His joy is now, as it was in Judaea of old, over every sinner that repenteth, every mourner that is comforted, every hungry mouth that is fed, every poor soul, sick or in prison, who is visited. That is the joy of your Lord--to show mercy; and that must be your joy too, if you wish to enter into His joy. Surely that is plain. You must rejoice in doing the same work that He rejoices in, and then His joy and yours will be the same; then you will enter into His joy, and He will enter into yours; then, as St. John says, you will dwell in Christ, and Christ in you, because you love the brethren; and you will hear through all eternity the blessed words, 'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these little ones, ye did it unto Me.' SERMON XXI. TOLERATION [Preached at Bideford, 1854] Philippians iii. 15, 16. And if in any thing ye shall be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this to you. Nevertheless, whereto we have already attained, let us walk by the same rule, let us mind the same thing. My friends, allow me to speak a few plain and honest words, ere we part, on a matter which is near to, and probably important to, many of us here. We all know how the Christian Church has in all ages been torn in pieces by religious quarrels; we all know too well how painfully these religious quarrels have been brought home to our very doors and hearts of late. Now, we all deplore, or profess to deplore, these differences and controversies. But we may do that in two ways: we may say, 'I am very sorry that all Christians do not think alike,' when all we mean is, 'I am very sorry that all Christians do not think just as I do, for I am right and infallible, whosoever else is wrong.' The fallen heart of man is too apt to say that, my friends, in its pride and narrowness, and while it cries out against the Pope of Rome, sets itself up as Pope in his stead. But there is surely another and a better way of deploring these differences: and that is, to say to oneself, 'I am sorry, bitterly sorry, that Christians cannot differ without quarrelling and hating one another over and above.' And then comes the deeper home- thought, 'And how much more sorry I am that I myself cannot differ from my fellow-Christians without growing angry with them, suspecting them, despising them, treating them as if they were not my fellow-Christians at all.' Yes, my friends, this is what we have to do first when we think of religious controversies, to examine our own hearts and deeds and words; to see whether we too have not been making bitterness more bitter, and, as the old proverb says, 'stirring the fire with a sword;' and to repent humbly and utterly of every harsh word, hasty judgment, ungenerous suspicion, as sins, not only against men, but against God the Father of Lights, who worketh in each of His children to will and to do of His good pleasure. But some will say, 'We cannot give up what we believe to be right and true.' God forbid that you should try to do so, my friends; for if you really believe it, you cannot, even if you try; and by trying you will only make yourselves dishonest. But does not that hold as good of the man who differs from you? God will not surely lay down one law for you, and another for him? 'But we are right, and he is wrong.' Be it so. You do not surely mean that you are quite right; perfect and infallible? You mean that you are right on the whole, and as far as you see. And how can you tell but that he is right on the whole, and as far as he sees? You will answer that both cannot be right; that yes and no cannot be both true; that a thing cannot be black and white also. My friends, my friends--but where is the religious controversy, the two sides whereof are as clearly opposite to each other as yes and no, black and white? I know none now; I have hardly found one in the records of the Protestant Church since first Luther and our Reformers protested against Romish idolatry. On that last matter there should be no doubt, as long as the first two commandments stand in the Decalogue; but, with that exception, it would be difficult to find a dispute in which the truth lay altogether with one party. The truth rather lies, in general, not so much halfway between the two combatants, as in some third place, which neither of them sees; which perhaps God does not intend them to see in this life, while He leaves his servants each to work out some one side of Christian truth, dividing to every man severally as He will, according to the powers of each mind, and the needs of each situation. True we have the infallible rule of Scripture: but are our own interpretations of it so sure to be infallible? Inspired, infinite, inexhaustible as it is, can we pretend to have fathomed all its abysses, to have comprehended all its boundless treasures? The pretence is folly. True, again, it contains all things necessary to salvation; and those so plainly set forth, that he who runs may read, and the wayfaring man, though poor, shall not err therein. And yet does it not contain things whereof even St. Paul himself said, that he only knew in part, and prophesied in part, and saw as through a glass darkly; and are we to suppose that they are among the truths necessary to salvation? Now are not the points about which there has been, and is still, most dispute, just of this very number? Do they belong to the simple fundamental truths of the Gospel? No. Are they such plain matters that the wayfaring man, though poor, can make up his mind on them for himself? No. Are they one of them laid down directly in Scripture, like the Ten Commandments, the Lord's Prayer, or the Creeds? No. They are every one, as it seems to me, whether they be right or wrong, abstruse deductions, delicate theories, built up on single and obscure texts. Surely, if they had been necessary for salvation, the Lord would have spoken on them in a tone and in words about which there should be no more mistake than about the thunders of Sinai, and the tables of stone fresh from the finger-mark of God. And He has spoken to us, my friends, on other matters, if not on these. His promises are clear enough, and short enough, though high as heaven and wide as the universe. There is one God, and one Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus, the only-begotten Son of God; and whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ, is born of God; and if any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous, and He is the propitiation for our sins. And again, 'If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth liberally, and upbraideth not, and he shall receive it.' 'For if ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, much more shall your Heavenly Father give His Holy Spirit to them who ask Him.' These are God's promises--simple and clear enough: and what are God's demands? Are they numerous, intricate, burdensome, a yoke which neither we nor our fathers have been able to bear? God forbid again!--'He hath showed thee, oh man, what is good. And what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?' And lest thou shouldest mistake in the least the meaning of these words, He hath showed thee all this, and more, by a living example fairer than all the sons of men, and through lips full of grace, in the blessed life and blessed death of His Son Jesus Christ, the brightness of His glory, and the express image of His person. To this, at least, we have already attained. Let us walk by this rule, let us all mind this same thing, and if in anything else we are differently minded, God in His own good time will reveal even that to us. Is not this enough, my friends? Then why should we bite and tear each other about that which is over and above this? If any man believes this, and acts on it, let us hail him as a brother. After all, let our differences be what they will, have we not one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in us all? If this is not bond enough between man and man, what bond would we have? Oh, my friends, when we consider this our little life, how full of ignorance it is and darkness; within us, rebellion, inconstancy, confusion, daily sins and shortcomings; and without us, disappointment, fear of loneliness, loss of friends, loss of all which makes life worth having,--who are we that we should deny proudly one single tie which binds us to any other human being? Who are we that we should refuse one hand stretched out to grasp our own? Who are we that we should say, 'Stand back, for I am holier than thou?' Who are we that we should judge another? to his own master let him stand or fall--'yea, and he shall stand,' says the Apostle, 'for God is able to make him stand.' Think of those last words, my friends, they are strong and startling; but we must not shrink from them. They tell us that God may be as near those whom we heap with hard names, as He is near to us; that He may intend that they should triumph, not over us, but with us over evil. And if God be with them, who dare be against them? Shall we be more dainty than God? And therefore I have never been able to hear, without a shudder, words which I have heard, and from really Christian men too: 'I can wish well to a pious man of a different denomination from mine; I can honour and admire the fruits of God's Spirit in him; but I cannot co-operate with him.' When I hear such language from really good men, I confess I am puzzled. I have no doubt that their reasons seem to them very sound; but what they are I cannot conceive. I cannot conceive why I should not hold out the right hand of fellowship and brotherhood to every man who fears God and works righteousness, of whatsoever denomination he may be. We believe the Apostles' Creed, surely? Then think of the meaning of that one word, The Holy Spirit. To whom are we to attribute any man's good deeds, except to the Holy Spirit? We dare not say that he does them by an innate and natural virtue of his own, for that would be to fall at once into the Pelagian heresy; neither dare we attribute his good deeds to an evil spirit, and say, 'However good they may look, they must be bad, for he belongs to a denomination who cannot have God's Spirit.' We dare not; for that would be to approach fearfully near to the unpardonable sin itself, the sin against the Holy Ghost, the bigotry which says, 'He casteth out devils by the Prince of the devils.' Surely if we be Christians, and Churchmen, we confess (for the Bible and the Prayer- book declare) that every good deed of man comes down from the One Fountain of Good, from God, the Father of Lights, by the inspiration of His Holy Spirit. Then think, my friends, think what words we have said. We confess that the great, absolute, almighty, eternal God, in whose hand suns and stars, ages and generations, hell and heaven, and all which is and has been, and ever will be, are but as a grain of sand; who has but to take away His breath, and the whole universe would become nothing and nowhere; the utterly holy and righteous God, who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, who charges His angels with folly, and the heavens are not clean in His sight--we confess, I say, that this great God has condescended to visit that man's soul, and cherish it, and teach it, and shape it (be it ever so little) into His own likeness: and shall we dare to stand aloof from him from whom God does not stand aloof? Shall we refuse to walk with one who walks with God? Shall we refuse to work with one who is a fellow-worker with God, to love one whom God loves, to take by the hand one whose guest God has become? Shall we be more dainty than God? more fastidious than God? more righteous than God? more separate from sinners than God? Oh, my friends, let us pray that we may love God better, and know His likeness more clearly; that we may be more ready to recognise, and admire, and welcome every, even the smallest trace of that likeness in any human being, remembering that it is the likeness of Christ, who was not merely The Teacher of all in every nation who fear God and work righteousness, but the Saviour who ate and drank with publicans and sinners: and then we shall be more careful how we call unclean what God Himself has cleansed with His own presence, His own grace, His own quickening and renewing and sanctifying Spirit. Be sure, be sure, my friends, that in proportion as we really love the Lord Jesus Christ, we shall love those who love Him, be it in never so clumsy or mistaken a fashion; and love those too whom He loved enough to die for them, and whom He loves now enough to teach and strengthen. We shall say to them, not 'Wherein do we differ?' but 'Wherein do we agree?' Not, 'Because I cannot worship with you, therefore I will not work with you;' but rather, 'I wish that I could worship with you; I will whenever and wherever I can, as far as you allow me, as far as the law allows me, as far as your worship is not in my eyes an actually sinful thing: but, be that as it may, we can at least do together something better even than worshipping, and that is, working. We can surely do good together. Together, let our denomination or party be what it may, we can feed the hungry, clothe the naked, reform the prisoner, humanize the degraded, save yearly the lives of thousands by labouring for the public health, and educate the minds and morals of the masses, though our religious differences (shame on us that it should be so!) force us to part when we begin to talk to them about the world to come.' For are we not brothers after all? Has not God made us of one blood, English men, with English hearts? Has not Christ redeemed us with one and the same sacrifice? Has not the Holy Spirit given us one and the same desire of doing good? And shall we not use that spirit hand in hand? Look, look at the opportunities of doing good which are around you; look at God's field of good works, white already to the harvest; and the labourers are few. Shall these few, instead of going manfully to work, stand idly quarrelling about the shape of their instruments, and their favourite modes of using them? God forbid! True, there are errors against which we are bound to protest to the uttermost; but how few? The one real enemy we have all to fight is sin--evil-doing. If any man or doctrine makes men worse--makes men do worse deeds, protest then, if you will, and spare not, and shrink not: for sin must be of the Devil, whatever else is not. And therefore we are bound to protest against any doctrine which parts man from God, and, under whatsoever pretence of reverence or purity, draws again the veil between him and his Heavenly Father, and denies him free access to the Throne of Grace, and the feet of Jesus, that he may carry thither his own sins, his own doubts, his own sorrows, and speak (wondrous condescension of redeeming grace!) speak with God face to face, and yet live. For this we must protest; for this we must die, if needs be; for if we lose this, we lose all which our reforming forefathers won for us at the stake, ay, we lose our own souls; for we lose righteousness and strength, and the power to do the will of God. For to shut a man out from free access to God and Christ is to make him certainly false, dishonest, cowardly, degraded, slavish, and sinful; as modern Popery has made, and always will make, those over whom it really gains power. This is the root of our hereditary protest against Popery; not merely because we do not agree with certain of its doctrines, but because we know from experience, that as now taught by the Jesuits, with whom it has identified itself, its general tendency is to make men bad men, ignorant, dishonest, rebellious; unworthy citizens of a free and loyal state. And there are practices against which congregations have a right to protest, not only as Christians, but as free Englishmen. Congregations have a right to protest against any minister who introduces obsolete ceremonies which empty his church and drive away his people. Those ceremonies may be quite harmless in themselves, as I really believe most of them are; many of them may be beautiful, and, if properly understood, useful, as I think they are; but a thing may be good in itself, and yet become bad by being used at a wrong time, and in a way which produces harm. And it is shocking, to say the least, to see churches emptied and parishes thrown into war for the sake of such matters. The lightest word which can be used for such conduct is, pedantry; but I fear at times lest the Lord in heaven should be using a far more awful word, and when He sees weak brethren driven from the fold of the Church by the self- will and obstinacy of the very men who profess to desire to bring all into the Church, as the only place where salvation is to be found,--I fear, I say, when I see such deeds, lest the Lord should repeat against them His own awful words: 'If any man scandalize one of these little ones who believeth on Me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depths of the sea.' What sadder mistake? Those who have sworn to seek out Christ's lambs scattered up and down this wicked world, shall they be the very ones to frighten those lambs out of the fold, instead of alluring them back into it? Shall the shepherd play the part, not even of the hireling who flees and leaves the sheep to themselves, but of the very wolf who scatters the flock? God forbid! The Church, like the Sabbath, was made for man, my friends: not man for the Church; and the Son of Man, as He is Lord of the Sabbath, is Lord of the Church, and will have mercy in its dealings rather than sacrifice. The minister, my friends, was made for the people: and not the people for the minister. What else does the very name 'minister' mean? Not a lord who has dominion, but a servant, a servant to all, who must give up again and again his private notions of what he thinks best in itself for the sake of what will be best for his flock; who must be, like St. Paul, a Jew to the Jews; under the law to those who are still under the law; and yet again without law to those who are without law (though not without law to God, but under the law to Christ); weak with the weak; strong with the strong; that he may gain men of all sorts of opinions and characters by agreeing with them as far as he honestly can, and showing his sympathy with each as much as he can; and so become all things to all men, that he may by all means save some. Oh, my friends, who can read honestly that glorious First Epistle to the Corinthians and not see how a man may have the most intense earnestness, the strongest doctrinal certainty, and yet at the same time the greatest freedom, and charity, and liberality about minor matters of ceremonies and Church arrangements, and practical methods of usefulness; glad even that Christ be preached by his enemies, and out of spite to him, because any way Christ is preached? But, my friends, if it is the right of free Englishmen to protest against such doings, how shall it be done? Surely in gentleness, calmness, reverence, as by men who know that they are standing on holy ground, and dealing with sacred things, before the Throne of God, and beneath the eye of Jesus Christ. Not surely, as it has been too often done, in bitterness, and wrath, and clamour, and evil-speaking, with really unjust suspicions, exaggerations, slanders, (and those, too, anonymous,) in the columns of the public prints. My friends, these are not God's weapons. Not such is Ithuriel's magic spear, the very touch of which unmasks falsehood. This is to try to cast out Satan by Satan, to make evil worse by fighting it with fresh evil. Oh, my friends, if there is one counsel which I would press on all here more earnestly than another, it is this--never, never, howsoever great may be the temptation, to indulge in anonymous attacks on any human being. No man has a right to do it who prays daily to his Father in heaven, Lead us not into temptation. For it is to lead oneself into temptation, and that too sore to resist; into the temptation to say something which one dare not say, and ought not to say, were one's name known; the temptation to forget not only the charity of Christians, but even the courtesies of civilized life; and to shoot, from behind the safe hedge of anonymousness, coward and envenomed shafts, of which we should be ashamed, did the world know that they were ours; of which we shall surely be ashamed in that great day, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed. I speak strongly: but only because I know by bitter experience the terrible truth of my own words. And consider, my friends, can any good result come from handling sacred matters with such harsh and fierce hands as they have been handled of late? For ourselves, such evil tempers only excite, irritate, blind us: they prevent our doing justice to the opposite side--(I speak of all parties)--they put us into an unwholesome state of suspicion, and tempt us to pass harsh judgments upon men as righteous, and perhaps far more righteous, than ourselves: they stir up our pride to special plead our case, to make the best of our own side, and the worst of our opponents': they defile our very prayers; till, when we ought to be praying God to bless all mankind, we catch ourselves unawares calling on Him to curse our enemies. For those who are without--for the infidel, the profligate, the careless--oh, what a scandal to them! What an excuse for them to blaspheme the holy name whereby we are called, and ask, as of old, 'Is this then the Gospel of Peace? See how these Christians hate one another!' While for the young, oh, my friends, what a scandal, again, to them! If you had seen (as I have) pious parents destroying in their own childrens' minds all faith, all reverence for holy things, by mixing themselves up in religious controversies, and indulging by their own firesides in fierce denunciations of men no worse than themselves;-- if you will watch (as you may) young people taking refuge, some in utter frivolity, saying, 'What am I to believe? When religionists have settled what religion is, it will be time enough for me to think of it: meanwhile, let me eat and drink, for to-morrow I die;'--and others, the children of strong Protestant parents, taking refuge in the apostate Church of Rome, and saying, 'If Englishmen do not know what to believe, Rome does; if I cannot find certainty in Protestantism, I can in Popery;'--if you will consider honestly and earnestly these sad tragedies, you will look on it as a sacred duty to the children whom God has given you, to keep aloof as much as possible from all those points on which Christians differ, and make your children feel from their earliest years that there are points, and those the great, vital root points, on which all more or less agree, which many members of the Romish Church have held, and, I doubt not, now hold, as firmly as Protestants,--adoption by one common Father, justification by the blood of one common Saviour, sanctification by one common Holy Spirit. And believe me, my friends, that just in proportion as you delight in, and live by, these great doctrines, all controversies will become less and less important in your eyes. The more you value the living body of Christianity, the less you will think of its temporary garments; the more you feel the power of God's Spirit, the less scrupulous will you be about the peculiar form in which He may manifest Himself. Personal trust in Christ Jesus, personal love to Christ Jesus, personal belief that He and He only, is governing this poor diseased and confused world; that He is really fighting against all evil in it; that He really rules all nations, and fashions the hearts of all of them, and understands all their works, and has appointed them their times and the bounds of their habitation, if haply they may feel after Him and find Him: personal and living belief that the just and loving Lord Christ reigneth, be the peoples never so unquiet;--this, this will keep your minds clear, and sober, and charitable, and will make you turn with disgust from platform squabbles and newspaper controversies, to do the duty which lies nearest you; to walk soberly and righteously with your God, and train up your children in His faith and fear, not merely to be scholars, not merely to be devotees, but to be Christian Englishmen; courteous and gentle, and yet manful and self-restraining; fearing God and regarding man; growing up healthy under that solemn sense of national duty which is the only safeguard of national freedom. And, meanwhile, you will leave all who differ from you in the hands of a God who wills their salvation far more than you can do; who accepts, in every nation, those who fear Him and work righteousness; who is merciful in this--that He rewards every man according to his work; and who, if our brothers be otherwise minded from us, will reveal even that to them, if we be right: or, again, to us, if they be right. For we may have to learn from them, as well as they from us; and both have to learn much from God, in the day when all controversies and doubts shall vanish like a cloud; when we shall see no longer in part, and through a glass darkly, but face to face; while all things shall be bright in the sunshine of God's presence and of the countenance of His Son Jesus Christ our Lord. SERMON XXII. PUBLIC SPIRIT (Preached at Bideford, 1855.) 1 Corinthians xii. 25, 26. That there should be no division in the body; but that the members should have the same care, one of another. And whether one member suffer, all suffer with it; or whether one member be honoured, all rejoice with it. I have been asked to preach in behalf of the Provident Society of this town. I shall begin by asking you to think over with me a matter which may seem at first sight to have very little to do with you or with a provident society, but which, nevertheless, I believe has very much to do with both, and is full of wholesome spiritual instruction for us all. Did it ever happen to any of you, to see a mob of several thousands put to instant flight by a mere handful of soldiers? And did you ever ask yourself how that apparent miracle could come to pass? The first answer which occurred to you, perhaps, was, that the soldiers were well armed, and the mob was not: but soon, I am sure, you felt that you were doing the soldiers an injustice; that they would have behaved just as bravely if every man in that mob had been as well armed as they, and have resisted till they were overpowered by mere numbers. You felt, I am sure, that there was something in the hearts and spirits of those soldiers which there was not in the hearts of the mob; that though the mob might be boiling over with the greediest passions, the fiercest fury, while the soldiers were calm, cheerful, and caring for nothing but doing their duty, yet that there was a thought within them which was stronger than all the rage and greediness of the thousands whom they faced; that, in short, the seeming miracle was a moral and a spiritual miracle. What, then, is this wonder-working thought which makes the soldier strong? Courage, you answer, and the sense of duty. True; but what has called out the sense of duty? What has inspired the courage? There was a time, perhaps, when each of those soldiers was no braver or more steady than the mob in front of them. Has it never happened to you to know some young country lad, both before and after he has become a soldier? Look at him in his native village (if you will let me draw for you the sketch of a history, which, alas! is the history of thousands), perhaps one of the worst and idlest lads in it--unwilling to work steadily, haunting the public-house and the worst of company; wandering out at night to poach and caring for nothing but satisfying his gross animal appetites; afraid to look you in the face, hardly able to give an intelligible, certainly not a civil answer; his countenance expressing only vacancy, sensuality, cunning, suspicion, utter want of self-respect. It is a sad sight, but how common a sight, even in this favoured land! At last he vanishes; he has been engaged in some drunken affray, or in some low intrigue, and has fled for fear of the law, and enlisted as a soldier. A year or two passes, and you meet the same lad again--if indeed he is the same. For a strange change has come over him: he walks erect, he speaks clearly, he looks you boldly in the face, with eyes full of intelligence and self-respect; he is become civil and courteous now; he touches his cap to you 'like a soldier;' he can afford now to be respectful to others, because he respects himself, and expects you to respect him. You talk to him, and find that the change is not merely outward, but inward; not owing to mere mechanical drill but to something which has been going on in his heart; and ten to one, the first thing that he begins to talk to you about, with honest pride, is his regiment. His regiment. Yes, there is the secret which has worked these wonders; there is the talisman which has humanized and civilized and raised from the mire the once savage boor. He belongs to a regiment; in one word, he has become the member of a body. The member of a body, in which if one member suffers, all suffer with it; if one member be honoured, all rejoice with it. A body, which has a life of its own, and a government of its own, a duty of its own, a history of its own, an allegiance to a sovereign, all which are now his life, his duty, his history, his allegiance; he does not now merely serve himself and his own selfish lusts: he serves the Queen. His nature is not changed, but the thought that he is the member of an honourable body has raised him above his nature. If he forgets that, and thinks only of himself, he will become selfish sluttish, drunken, cowardly, a bad soldier; as long as he remembers it, he is a hero. He can face mobs now, and worse than mobs: he can face hunger and thirst, fatigue, danger, death itself, because he is the member of a body. For those know little, little of human nature and its weakness, who fancy that mere brute courage, as of an angry lion, will ever avail, or availed a few short weeks ago, to spur our thousands up the steeps of Alma, or across the fatal plain of Balaklava, athwart the corpses of their comrades, upon the deadly throats of Russian guns. A nobler feeling, a more heavenly thought was needed (and when needed, thanks to God, it came!) to keep each raw lad, nursed in the lap of peace, true to his country and his Queen through the valley of the shadow of death. Not mere animal fierceness: but that tattered rag which floated above his head, inscribed with the glorious names of Egypt or Corunna, Toulouse or Waterloo, that it was which raised him into a hero: he had seen those victories; the men who conquered there were dead long since: but the regiment still lived, its history still lived, its honour lived, and that history, that honour were his, as well as those old dead warriors': he had fought side by side with them in spirit, though not in the flesh; and now his turn was come, and he must do as they did, and for their sakes, and count his own life a worthless thing for the sake of the body which he belonged to: he, but two years ago the idle, selfish country lad, now stumbling cheerful on in the teeth of the iron hail, across ground slippery with his comrades' blood, not knowing whether the next moment his own blood might not swell the ghastly stream. What matter? They might kill him, but they could not kill the regiment: it would live on and conquer; ay, and should conquer, if his life could help on its victory; and then its honour would be his, its reward be his, even when his corpse lay pierced with wounds, stiffening beneath a foreign sky. Here, my friends, is one example of the blessed power of fellow feeling, public spirit, the sense of belonging to a body whose members have not merely a common interest, but a common duty, a common honour. This Christian country, thank God! gives daily many another example of the same: and every place, and every station affords to each one of us opportunities,--more, alas, I fear, than we shall ever take full advantage of: but I have chosen the case of the soldier, not merely because it is perhaps the most striking and affecting, but because I wish to see, and trust in God that I shall see, those who remain at home in safety emulating the public spirit and self- sacrifice which our soldiers are showing abroad; and by sacrifices more peaceful and easy, but still well-pleasing unto God, showing that they too have been raised above selfishness, by the glorious thought that they are members of a body. For, are we not members of a body, my friends? Are we not members of the Body of bodies, members of Christ, children of God, inheritors of the Kingdom of Heaven? Members of Christ--we, and the poor for whom I plead, as well as we; perhaps, considering their many trials and our few trials, more faithfully and loyally by far than we are. There are some here, I doubt not, to whom that word, that argument, is enough: to whom it is enough to say, Remember that the Lord whom you love loves that shivering, starving wretch as well as He loves you, to open and exhaust at once their heart, their purse, their labour of love. God's blessing be upon all such! But it would be hypocrisy in me, my friends, to speak to this, or any congregation, as if all were of that temper of mind. It is not one in ten, alas! in the present divided state of religious parties, who feels the mere name of Christ enough of a bond to make him sacrifice himself for his fellow Christians, as a soldier does for his fellow soldiers. Not one in ten, alas! feels that he owes the same allegiance to Christ as the soldier does to his Queen; that the honour of Christianity is his honour, the history of Christianity his history, the life of Christianity his life. Would that it were so: but it is not so. And I must appeal to feelings in you less wide, honourable and righteous though they are: I must appeal to your public spirit as townsmen of this place. I have a right as a clergyman to do so: I have a duty as a clergyman to do so. For your being townsmen of this place is not a mere material accident depending on your living in one house instead of another. It is a spiritual matter; it is a question of eternity. Your souls and spirits influence each other; your tastes, opinions, tempers, habits, make those of your neighbours better or worse; you feel it in yourselves daily. Look at it as a proof that, whether you will or not, you are one body, of which all the members must more or less suffer and rejoice together; that you have a common weal, a common interest; that God has knit you together; that you cannot part yourselves even if you will; and that you can be happy and prosperous only by acknowledging each other as brothers, and by doing to each other as you would they should do unto you. It may be hard at times to bring this thought home to our minds: but it is none the less true because we forget it; and if we do not choose to bring it home to our own minds, it will be sooner or later brought home to them whether we choose or not. For bear in mind, that St. Paul does not say, if one member suffers, all the rest ought to suffer with it: he says that they do suffer with it. He does not say merely, that we ought to feel for our fellow townsmen; he says, that God has so tempered the body together as to force one member to have the same care of the others as of itself; that if we do not care to feel for them, we shall be made to feel with them. One limb cannot choose whether or not it will feel the disease of another limb. If one limb be in pain, the whole body _must_ be uneasy, whether it will or not. And if one class in a town, or parish, or county, be degraded, or in want, the whole town, or parish, or county, must be the worse for it. St. Paul is not preaching up sentimental sympathy: he is telling you of a plain fact. He is not saying, 'It is a very fine and saintly thing, and will increase your chance of heaven, to help the poor.' He is saying, 'If you neglect the poor, you neglect yourself; if you degrade the poor, you degrade yourself. His poverty, his carelessness, his immorality, his dirt, his ill-health, will punish _you_; for you and he are members of the same body, knit together inextricably for weal or woe, by the eternal laws according to which the Lord Jesus Christ has constituted human society; and if you break those laws, they will avenge themselves.'--My friends, do we not see them avenge themselves daily? The slave-holder refuses to acknowledge that his slave is a member of the same body as himself; but he does not go unpunished: the degradation to which he has brought his slave degrades him, by throwing open to him. the downward path of lust, laziness, ungoverned and tyrannous tempers, and the other sins which have in all ages, slowly but surely, worked the just ruin of slave-holding states. The sinner is his own tempter, and the sinner is his own executioner: he lies in wait for his own life (says Solomon) when he lies in wait for his brother's. Do you see the same law working in our own free country? If you leave the poor careless and filthy, you can obtain no good servants: if you leave them profligate, they make your sons profligate also: if you leave them tempted by want, your property is unsafe: if you leave them uneducated, reckless, improvident, you cannot get your work properly done, and have to waste time and money in watching your workmen instead of trusting them. Why, what are all poor-rates and county-rates, if you will consider, but God's plain proof to us, that the poor are members of the same body as ourselves; and that if we will not help them of our own free will, we shall find it necessary to help them against our will: that if we will not pay a little to prevent them becoming pauperized or criminal, we must pay a great deal to keep them when they have become so? We may draw a lesson--and a most instructive one it is--from the city of Liverpool, in which it was lately proved that crime--and especially the crime of uneducated boys and girls--had cost, in the last few years, the city many times more than it would cost to educate, civilize, and depauperize the whole rising generation of that city, and had been a tax upon the capital and industry of Liverpool, so enormous that they would have submitted to it from no Government on earth; and yet they had been blindly inflicting it upon themselves for years, simply because they chose to forget that they were their brothers' keepers. Look again at preventible epidemics, like cholera. All the great towns of England have discovered, what you I fear are discovering also, that the expense of a pestilence, and of the widows and orphans which it creates, is far greater than the expense of putting a town into such a state of cleanliness as would defy the entrance of the disease. So it is throughout the world. Nothing is more expensive than penuriousness; nothing more anxious than carelessness; and every duty which is bidden to wait, returns with seven fresh duties at its back. Yes, my friends, we are members of a body; and we must realize that fact by painful experience, if we refuse to realize it in public spirit and brotherly kindness, and the approval of a good conscience, and the knowledge that we are living like our Lord and Master Jesus Christ, who laboured for all but Himself, cared for all but Himself; who counted not His own life dear to Himself that by laying it down He might redeem into His own likeness the beings whom He had made; and who has placed us on this earth, each in his own station, each in his own parish, that we might follow in His footsteps, and live by His Spirit, which is the spirit of love and fellow-feeling, that new and risen life of His, which is the life of duty, honour, and self-sacrifice. Yes. Let us look rather at this brighter side of the question, my friends, than at the darker. I will preach the Gospel to you rather than the Law. I will appeal to your higher feelings rather than to your lower; to your love rather than your fear; to your honour rather than your self-interest. It will be pleasanter for me: it will meet with a more cordial response, I doubt not, from you. Some dislike appeals to honour. I cannot, as long as St. Paul himself appeals to it so often, both in the individual and in bodies. His whole Epistle to Philemon is an appeal, most delicate and graceful, to Philemon's sense of honour--to the thought of what he owed Paul, of what Paul wished him to repay, not with money, but with generosity. And his appeal to the Corinthians is a direct appeal to their honour: not to fears of any punishment, or wrath of God, but to the respect which they owed to themselves as members of a body, the Church of Corinth; and to the respect which they owed to that body as a whole, and which they had disgraced by allowing an open scandal in it. And his appeal was successful: they took it just as it was meant; and he rejoices in the thought that they did so. 'For this, that ye sorrowed after a godly sort, what carefulness it wrought in you, yea, what clearing of yourselves, what indignation, what fear, what vehement desire, what zeal, what revenge! In all things you have approved yourselves to be clear in this matter,' Noble words, and nobly answered. My friends, you, too, are members of a body: go, and do likewise in the matter of this Society's failing funds. * * * * * May I boldly ask you to alter this to-day? This, remember, is no common day. It is a day of thankfulness. The thankfulness which you professed, and I doubt not many of you felt, on Thursday night, has not evaporated, I trust, by Sunday morning. You have not yet forgotten--I trust that there is many a one who will never forget-- what you owe as townsmen of this place, to God who has preserved you safe through the dangers and sorrows of the past autumn. You owe more than one debt to God. You owe, all England owes, thanks to Him for the late bounteous harvest, thanks to Him for the present prosperous seed-time: think what our state might have been with scarcity, as well as war, upon us, and pay part of your debt this day. You owe a thank-offering for the cessation of the cholera; a thank-offering for the sparing of your own lives;--pay it now. You owe a thank-offering for the glorious victories of our armies:--pay it now. You belong, too, to an honourable body, which has a noble history, and sets you many a noble example; show yourselves worthy of that body, that history, those examples, now. And what fitter place than this very church to awaken within you the thought of duty and of public spirit?--this church which stands as God's own sign that you are the townsmen, the representatives, ay, some of you the very descendants, of many a noble spirit of old time?--this church, in which God's blessing has been invoked on deeds of patriotism and enterprise, of which the whole world now bears the fruit?--these walls, in which Elizabeth's heroes, your ancestors, have prayed before sailing against the Spanish Armada,-- these walls, which saw the baptism of the first red Indian convert, and the gathering in, as it were, of the firstfruits of the heathen,--these walls, in which the early settlers of Virginia have invoked God's blessing on those tiny ventures which were destined to become the seeds of a mighty nation, and the starting-point of the United States,--these walls, which still bear the monument of your heroic townsman Strange, who expended for his plague-stricken brethren, talents, time, wealth, and at last life itself. For, to return, and to apply, I hope, to your consciences, the example of the soldier with which I began this Sermon:--shall it be only on the battle-field that the power of fellow-feeling is shown forth? Shall public spirit be only strong when it has to destroy, and not when it has to save and comfort? God forbid! Surely you here have a common corporate life, common history, common allegiance, common interest, which should inspire you to do your duty, whatsoever it may be, for the good of your native place, and to show that you feel an honourable self-respect in the thought that you belong to an ancient and once famous town, which though it may be outstripped awhile in the race of commerce, need never be outstripped, if you will be worthy sons of your worthy ancestors, in that race to which St. Paul exhorts us; the race of justice and benevolence, the noble rivalry of noble deeds. Oh, look, I beseech you, upon this church as its old worshippers, the forefathers of many of you who sit here this day, were wont to look on it. Remember that this church is the sign that you are one town, one parish, one body; that century after century, this church has stood to witness to your fathers, and your fathers' fathers, that all who kneel within these walls are brothers, rich or poor; that all are children of one Father, redeemed by one Saviour, taught by one Spirit. This, this is the blessed truth of which the parish church is token, as nought else can be--that you are one body, members one of another, and that God's blessing is on your union and fellow-feeling; that God smiles on your bearing each other's burdens, and so fulfilling the law of Christ. Look on this church, and do to others as this church witnesses that God has done for you. And now, some of you may perhaps have been disappointed, some a little scornful, at my having used so many words about so small a matter, and talked of battles, legends, heroes of old time, all merely to induct you to help this Society with a paltry extra thirty pounds. Be it so. I shall be glad if you think so. If the matter be so small, it is the more easily done; if the sum be paltry, it is the more easily found. If my reasons are very huge and loud- sounding, and the result at which I aim very light, the result ought to follow all the more certainly; for believe me, my friends, the reasons are good ones, Scriptural ones, practical ones, and ought to produce the result. I give you the strongest arguments for showing your Christian, English public spirit; and then I ask you to show it in a very small matter. But be sure that to do what I ask of you to do to-day is just as much your duty, small as it may seem, as it would be, were you soldiers, to venture your lives in the cause of your native land. Duty, be it in a small matter or a great, is duty still; the command of Heaven, the eldest voice of God. And, believe me, my friends, that it is only they who are faithful in a few things who will be faithful over many things; only they who do their duty in everyday and trivial matters who will fulfil them on great occasions. We all honour and admire the heroes of Alma and Balaklava; we all trust in God that we should have done our duty also in their place. The best test of that, my friends, is, can we do our duty in our own place? Here the duty is undeniable, plain, easy. Here is a Society instituted for one purpose, which has, in order to exist, to appropriate the funds destined for quite a different purpose. Both purposes are excellent; but they are different. The Offertory money is meant for the sick, the widow, and the orphan; for those who _cannot_ help themselves. The Provident Society is meant to encourage those who _can_ help themselves to do so. Every farthing, therefore, taken from the Offertory money is taken from the widow and the orphan. I ask you whether this is right and just? I appeal, not merely to your prudence and good sense, in asking you to promote prudence and good sense among the poor by the Provident Society; I appeal to your honour and compassion, on behalf of the sick, the widow, and orphan, that they may have the full enjoyment of the funds intended for them. Again, I say, this may seem a small matter to you, and I may seem to be using too many words about it. Small? Nothing is small which affects not merely the temporal happiness, but the eternal welfare, of an immortal soul. My friends, my friends, if any one of you had to support yourself and your children on four, seven, or even (mighty sum!) ten shillings a week, it would not seem a small matter to you then. A few shillings more or less would be to you _then_ a treasure won or lost; a matter to you of whether you should keep a house over your children's heads, whether you should keep shoes upon their feet, and clothes upon their backs; whether you should see them, as they grew up, tempted by want into theft or profligacy; whether you should rise in the morning free enough from the sickening load of anxiety, and the care which eats out the core of life, and makes men deaf and blind (as it does many a one) to all pleasant sights, and sounds, and thoughts, till the very sunlight seems blotted out of heaven by that black cloud of care--care--care-- which rises with you in the morning, and dogs you at your work all day (even if you are happy enough to have work), and sits on your pillow all night long, ready to whisper in your ear each time you wake; '_Be_ anxious and troubled about many things! What wilt thou eat, and what wilt thou drink, and wherewithal wilt thou be clothed? For thou hast _no_ Heavenly Father, none above who knowest that thou needest these things before thou askest Him.' Oh, my friends, if you had felt but for a single day, that terrible temptation, the temptation of poverty, and debt, and care, which leads so many a one to sell their souls for a few paltry pence, to them of as much value as pounds would be to you;--if, I say, you had once felt that temptation in all its weight, you would not merely sacrifice, as I ask you now to do, some superfluity, which you will never miss; you would, I do believe, if you had human hearts within you, be ready to sacrifice even the comforts of life to prevent him whose heart may be breaking slowly, not a hundred yards from your own door, (and more hearts break in this world than you fancy, my friends,) from passing through that same dark shadow of want, and care, and temptation where the Devil stands calling to the poor man all day long, 'Fall down, and worship me; and I will relieve those wants of thine which man neglects!' I have no more to say. I leave the rest to your own good feeling, as townsmen of this ancient and honourable place,--remembering always who it was who said, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.' 
11760	----	Team THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS COMPILED BY GRENVILLE KLEISER Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in Public," Etc. With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other Theologians INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D. Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University IN TEN VOLUMES VOLUME X DRUMMOND TO JOWETT General Index 1908 CONTENTS VOLUME X. DRUMMOND (1851--1897). The Greatest Thing in the World WAGNER (Born in 1851). I Am a Voice GORDON (Born in 1853). Man in the Image of God DAWSON (Born in 1854). Christ Among the Common Things of Life SMITH (Born in 1856). Assurance in God GUNSAULUS (Born in 1856). The Bible vs. Infidelity HILLIS (Born in 1858). God the Unwearied Guide JEFFERSON (Born in 1860). The Reconciliation MORGAN (Born in 1863). The Perfect Ideal of Life CADMAN (Born in 1864). A New Day for Missions JOWETT (Born in 1864). Apostolic Optimism Index to Preachers and Sermons Index to Texts DRUMMOND THE GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Henry Drummond, author and evangelist, was born at Stirling, Scotland, in 1851. His book, "Natural Law in the Spiritual World," caused much discussion and is still widely read. His "Ascent of Man" is regarded by many as his greatest work. The address reprinted here has appeared in hundreds of editions, and has been an inspiration to thousands of peoples all over the world. There is an interesting biography of Drummond by Professor George Adam Smith, his close friend and colaborer. He died in 1897. DRUMMOND 1851--1897 THE GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD[1] [Footnote 1: Reprinted by permission of James Pott & Co.] _Tho I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, &c._--I Cor. xiii. Everyone has asked himself the great question of antiquity as of the modern world: What is the _summum bonum_--the supreme good? You have life before you. Once only you can live it. What is the noblest object of desire, the supreme gift to covet? We have been accustomed to be told that the greatest thing in the religious world is faith. That great word has been the key-note for centuries of the popular religion; and we have easily learned to look upon it as the greatest thing in the world. Well, we are wrong. If we have been told that, we may miss the mark. I have taken you, in the chapter which I have just read, to Christianity at its source; and there we have seen, "The greatest of these is love." It is not an oversight. Paul was speaking of faith just a moment before. He says, "If I have all faith, so that I can remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing." So far from forgetting, he deliberately contrasts them, "Now abideth faith, hope, love," and without a moment's hesitation the decision falls, "The greatest of these is love." And it is not prejudice. A man is apt to recommend to others his own strong point. Love was not Paul's strong point. The observing student can detect a beautiful tenderness growing and ripening all through his character as Paul gets old; but the hand that wrote, "The greatest of these is love," when we meet it first, is stained with blood. Nor is this letter to the Corinthians peculiar in singling out love as the _summum bonum_. The masterpieces of Christianity are agreed about it. Peter says, "Above all things have fervent love among yourselves." Above all things. And John goes further, "God is love." And you remember the profound remark which Paul makes elsewhere, "Love is the fulfilling of the law." Did you ever think what he meant by that? In those days men were working their passage to heaven by keeping the ten commandments, and the hundred and ten other commandments which they had manufactured out of them. Christ said, I will show you a more simple way. If you do one thing, you will do these hundred and ten things, without ever thinking about them. If you love, you will unconsciously fulfil the whole law. And you can readily see for yourselves how that must be so. Take any of the commandments. "Thou shalt have no other gods before me." If a man love God, you will not require to tell him that. Love is the fulfilling of that law. "Take not his name in vain." Would he ever dream of taking His name in vain if he loved Him? "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy." Would he not be too glad to have one day in seven to dedicate more exclusively to the object of his affection? Love would fulfil all these laws regarding God. And so, if he loved man, you would never think of telling him to honor his father and mother. He could not do anything else. It would be preposterous to tell him not to kill. You could only insult him if you suggested that he should not steal--how could he steal from those he loved? It would be superfluous to beg him not to bear false witness against his neighbor. If he loved him it would be the last thing he would do. And you would never dream of urging him not to covet what his neighbors had. He would rather that they possest it than himself. In this way "Love is the fulfilling of the law." It is the rule for fulfilling all rules, the new commandment for keeping all the old commandments, Christ's one secret of the Christian life. Now, Paul had learned that; and in this noble eulogy he has given us the most wonderful and original account extant of the _summum bonum_. We may divide it into three parts. In the beginning of the short chapter, we have love contrasted; in the heart of it, we have love analyzed; toward the end, we have love defended as the supreme gift. Paul begins contrasting love with other things that men in those days thought much of. I shall not attempt to go over those things in detail. Their inferiority is already obvious. He contrasts it with eloquence. And what a noble gift it is, the power of playing upon the souls and wills of men, and rousing them to lofty purposes and holy deeds. Paul says, "If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal." And we all know why. We have all felt the brazenness of words without emotion, the hollowness, the unaccountable unpersuasiveness, of eloquence behind which lies no love. He contrasts it with prophecy. He contrasts it with mysteries. He contrasts it with faith. He contrasts it with charity. Why is love greater than faith? Because the end is greater than the means. And why is it greater than charity? Because the whole is greater than the part. Love is greater than faith, because the end is greater than the means. What is the use of having faith? It is to connect the soul with God. And what is the object of connecting man with God? That he may become like God. But God is love. Hence faith, the means, is in order to love, the end. Love, therefore, obviously is greater than faith. It is greater than charity, again, because the whole is greater than a part. Charity is only a little bit of love, one of the innumerable avenues of love, and there may even be, and there is, a great deal of charity without love. It is a very easy thing to toss a copper to a beggar on the street; it is generally an easier thing than not to do it. Yet love is just as often in the withholding. We purchase relief from the sympathetic feelings roused by the spectacle of misery, at the copper's cost. It is too cheap--too cheap for us, and often too dear for the beggar. If we really loved him we would either do more for him, or less. Then Paul contrasts it with sacrifice and martyrdom. And I beg the little band of would-be missionaries--and I have the honor to call some of you by this name for the first time--to remember that tho you give your bodies to be burned, and have not love, it profits nothing--nothing! You can take nothing greater to the heathen world than the impress and reflection of the love of God upon your own character. That is the universal language. It will take you years to speak in Chinese; or in the dialects of India. From the day you land, that language of love, understood by all, will be pouring forth its unconscious eloquence. It is the man who is the missionary, it is not his words. His character is his message. In the heart of Africa, among the great lakes, I have come across black men and women who remembered the only white man they ever saw before--David Livingstone; and as you cross his footsteps in that dark continent, men's faces light up as they speak of the kind doctor who passed there years ago. They could not understand him; but they felt the love that beat in his heart. Take into your new sphere of labor, where you also mean to lay down your life, that simple charm, and your life-work must succeed. You can take nothing greater, you need take nothing less. It is not worth while going if you take anything less. You may take every accomplishment; you may be braced for every sacrifice; but if you give your body to be burned, and have not love, it will profit you and the cause of Christ nothing. After contrasting love with these things, Paul, in three verses, very short, gives us an amazing analysis of what this supreme thing is. I ask you to look at it. It is a compound thing, he tells us. It is like light. As you have seen a man of science take a beam of light and pass it through a crystal prism, as you have seen it come out on the other side of the prism broken up into its component colors--red, and blue, and yellow, and violet, and orange, and all the colors of the rainbow--so Paul passes this thing, love, through the magnificent prism of his inspired intellect, and it comes out on the other side broken up into its elements. And in these few words we have what one might call the spectrum of love, the analysis of love. Will you observe what its elements are? Will you notice that they have common names; that they are virtues which we hear about every day, that they are things which can be practised by every man in every place in life; and how, by a multitude of small things and ordinary virtues, the supreme thing, the _summum bonum_, is made up? The spectrum of love has nine ingredients: Patience--"Love suffereth long." Kindness--"And is kind." Generosity--"Love envieth not." Humility--"Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up." Courtesy--"Doth not behave itself unseemly." Unselfishness--"Seeketh not her own." Good temper--"Is not easily provoked." Guilelessness--"Thinketh no evil." Sincerity--"Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth." Patience, kindness, generosity, humility, courtesy, unselfishness, good temper, guilelessness, sincerity--these make up the supreme gift, the stature of the perfect man. You will observe that all are in relation to men, in relation to life, in relation to the known to-day and the near to-morrow, and not to the unknown eternity. We hear much of love to God; Christ spoke much of love to man. We make a great deal of peace with heaven; Christ made much of peace on earth. Religion is not a strange or added thing, but the inspiration of the secular life, the breathing of an eternal spirit through this temporal world. The supreme thing, in short, is not a thing at all, but the giving of a further finish to the multitudinous words and acts which make up the sum of every common day. There is no time to do more than to make a passing note upon each of these ingredients. Love is patience. This is the normal attitude of love; love passive, love waiting to begin; not in a hurry; calm; ready to do its work when the summons comes, but meantime wearing the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit. Love suffers long; beareth all things; believeth all things; hopeth all things. For love understands, and therefore waits. Kindness. Love active. Have you ever noticed how much of Christ's life was spent in doing kind things--in merely doing kind things? Run over it with that in view, and you will find that He spent a great proportion of His time simply in making people happy, in doing good turns to people. There is only one thing greater than happiness in the world, and that is holiness; and it is not in our keeping; but what God has put in our power is the happiness of those about us, and that is largely to be secured by our being kind to them. "The greatest thing," says some one, "a man can do for his Heavenly Father is to be kind to some of his other children." I wonder why it is that we are not all kinder than we are? How much the world needs it. How easily it is done. How instantaneously it acts. How infallibly it is remembered. How superabundantly it pays itself back--for there is no debtor in the world so honorable, so superbly honorable, as love. "Love never faileth." Love is success, love is happiness, love is life. "Love," I say, with Browning, "is energy of life." For life, with all it yields of joy or wo And hope and fear, Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love-- How love might be, hath been indeed, and is. Where love is, God is. He that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God. God is love. Therefore love. Without distinction, without calculation, without procrastination, love. Lavish it upon the poor, where it is very easy; especially upon the rich, who often need it most; most of all upon our equals, where it is very difficult, and for whom perhaps we each do least of all. There is a difference between trying to please and giving pleasure. Give pleasure. Lose no chance of giving pleasure. For that is the ceaseless and anonymous triumph of a truly loving spirit. "I shall pass through this world but once. Any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again." Generosity. "Love envieth not." This is love in competition with others. Whenever you attempt a good work you will find other men doing the same kind of work, and probably doing it better. Envy them not. Envy is a feeling of ill-will to those who are in the same line as ourselves, a spirit of covetousness and detraction. How little Christian work even is a protection against unchristian feeling! That most despicable of all the unworthy moods which cloud a Christian's soul assuredly waits for us on the threshold of every work, unless we are fortified with this grace of magnanimity. Only one thing truly needs the Christian envy, the large, rich, generous soul which "envieth not." And then, after having learned all that, you have to learn this further thing, humility--to put a seal upon your lips and forget what you have done. After you have been kind, after love has stolen forth into the world and done its beautiful work, go back into the shade again and say nothing about it. Love hides even from itself. Love waives even self-satisfaction. "Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up." The fifth ingredient is a somewhat strange one to find in this _summum bonum_: Courtesy. This is love in society, love in relation to etiquette. "Love doth not behave itself unseemly." Politeness has been defined as love in trifles. Courtesy is said to be love in little things. And the one secret of politeness is to love. Love can not behave itself unseemly. You can put the most untutored persons into the highest society, and if they have a reservoir of love in their hearts, they will not behave themselves unseemly. They simply can not do it. Carlyle said of Robert Burns that there was no truer gentleman in Europe than the plowman-poet. It was because he loved everything--the mouse, the daisy, and all the things, great and small, that God had made. So with this simple passport he could mingle with any society, and enter courts and palaces from his little cottage on the banks of the Ayr. You know the meaning of the word "gentleman." It means a gentle man--a man who does things gently with love. And that is the whole art and mystery of it. The gentle man can not in the nature of things do an ungentle and ungentlemanly thing. The ungentle soul, the inconsiderate, unsympathetic nature can not do anything else. "Love doth not behave itself unseemly." Unselfishness. "Love seeketh not her own." Observe: Seeketh not even that which is her own. In Britain the Englishman is devoted, and rightly, to his rights. But there come times when a man may exercise even the higher right of giving up his rights. Yet Paul does not summon us to give up our rights. Love strikes much deeper. It would have us not seek them at all, ignore them, eliminate the personal element altogether from our calculations. It is not hard to give up our rights. They are often external. The difficult thing is to give up ourselves. The more difficult thing still is not to seek things for ourselves at all. After we have sought them, bought them, won them, deserved them, we have taken the cream off them for ourselves already. Little cross then perhaps to give them up. But not to seek them, to look every man not on his own things, but on the things of others--_id opus est_. "Seekest thou great things for thyself?" said the prophet; "seek them not." Why? Because there is no greatness in things. Things can not be great. The only greatness is unselfish love. Even self-denial in itself is nothing, is almost a mistake. Only a great purpose or a mightier love can justify the waste. It is more difficult, I have said, not to seek our own at all, than, having sought it, to give it up. I must take that back. It is only true of a partly selfish heart. Nothing is a hardship to love, and nothing is hard. I believe that Christ's yoke is easy. Christ's "yoke" is just His way of taking life. And I believe it is an easier way than any other. I believe it is a happier way than any other. The most obvious lesson in Christ's teaching is that there is no happiness in having and getting anything, but only in giving. I repeat, there is no happiness in having or in getting, but only in giving. And half the world is on the wrong scent in the pursuit of happiness. They think it consists in having and getting, and in being served by others. It consists in giving and serving others. He that would be great among you, said Christ, let him serve. He that would be happy, let him remember that there is but one way--it is more blest, it is more happy, to give than to receive. The next ingredient is a very remarkable one: good temper. "Love is not easily provoked." Nothing could be more striking than to find this here. We are inclined to look upon bad temper as a very harmless weakness. We speak of it as a mere infirmity of nature, a family failing, a matter of temperament, not a thing to take into very serious account in estimating a man's character. And yet here, right in the heart of this analysis of love, it finds a place; and the Bible again and again returns to condemn it as one of the most destructive elements in human nature. The peculiarity of ill temper is that it is the vice of the virtuous. It is often the one blot on an otherwise noble character. You know men who are all but perfect, and women who would be entirely perfect, but for an easily ruffled, quick-tempered, or "touchy" disposition. This compatibility of ill temper with high moral character is one of the strangest and saddest problems of ethics. The truth is, there are two great classes of sins--sins of the body, and sins of the disposition. The Prodigal Son may be taken as a type of the first, the Elder Brother of the second. Now society has no doubt whatever as to which of these is the worse. Its brands fall without a challenge, upon the Prodigal. But are we right? We have no balance to weigh one another's sins, and coarser and finer are but human words; but faults in the higher nature may be less venial than those in the lower, and to the eye of Him who is love, a sin against love may seem a hundred times more base. No form of vice, not worldliness, not greed of gold, not drunkenness itself, does more to unchristianize society than evil temper. For embittering life, for breaking up communities, for destroying the most sacred relationships, for devastating homes, for withering up men and women, for taking the bloom off childhood, in short, for sheer gratuitous misery-producing power, this influence stands alone. Look at the Elder Brother, moral, hard-working, patient, dutiful--let him get all credit for his virtues--look at this man, this baby, sulking outside his own father's door. "He was angry," we read, "and would not go in." Look at the effect upon the father, upon the servants, upon the happiness of the guests. Judge of the effect upon the Prodigal--and how many prodigals are kept out of the kingdom of God by the unlovely character of those who profess to be inside? Analyze, as a study in temper, the thunder-cloud itself as it gathers upon the Elder Brother's brow. What is it made of? Jealousy, anger, pride, uncharity, cruelty, self-righteousness, touchiness, doggedness, sullenness--these are the ingredients of this dark and loveless soul. In varying proportions, also, these are the ingredients of all ill temper. Judge if such sins of the disposition are not worse to live in, and for others to live with, than sins of the body. Did Christ indeed not answer the question Himself when He said, "I say unto you, that the publicans and the harlots go into the kingdom of heaven before you." There is really no place in heaven for a disposition like this. A man with such a mood could only make heaven miserable for all the people in it. Except, therefore, such a man be born again, he can not, he simply can not, enter the kingdom of heaven. For it is perfectly certain--and you will not misunderstand me--that to enter heaven a man must take it with him. You will see then why temper is significant It is not in what it is alone, but in what it reveals. This is why I take the liberty now of speaking of it with such unusual plainness. It is a test for love, a symptom, a revelation of an unloving nature at bottom. It is the intermittent fever which bespeaks unintermittent disease within; the occasional bubble escaping to the surface which betrays some rottenness underneath; a sample of the most hidden products of the soul dropt involuntarily when off one's guard; in a word, the lightning form of a hundred hideous and unchristian sins. For a want of patience, a want of kindness, a want of generosity, a want of courtesy, a want of unselfishness, are all instantaneously symbolized in one flash of temper. Hence it is not enough to deal with the temper. We must go to the source, and change the inmost nature, and the angry humors will die away of themselves. Souls are made sweet not by taking the acid fluids out, but by putting something in--a great love, a new spirit, the spirit of Christ. Christ, the spirit of Christ, interpenetrating ours, sweetens, purifies, transforms all. This only can eradicate what is wrong, work a chemical change, renovate and regenerate, and rehabilitate the inner man. Will-power does not change men. Time does not change men. Christ does. Therefore, "Let that mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus." Some of us have not much time to lose. Remember, once more, that this is a matter of life or death. I can not help speaking urgently, for myself, for yourselves. "Whoso shall offend one of these little ones, which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea." That is to say, it is the deliberate verdict of the Lord Jesus that it is better not to live than not to love. _It is better not to live than not to love._ Guilelessness and sincerity may be dismissed almost without a word. Guilelessness is the grace for suspicious people. And the possession of it is the great secret of personal influence. You will find, if you think for a moment, that the people who influence you are people who believe in you. In an atmosphere of suspicion men shrivel up; but in that other atmosphere they expand, and find encouragement and educative fellowship. It is a wonderful thing that here and there in this hard, uncharitable world there should still be left a few rare souls who think no evil. This is the great unworldliness. Love "thinketh no evil," imputes no bad motive, sees the bright side, puts the best construction on every action. What a delightful state of mind to live in! What stimulus and benediction even to meet with it for a day! To be trusted is to be saved. And if we try to influence or elevate others, we shall soon see that success is in proportion to their belief of our belief in them. For the respect of another is the first restoration of the self-respect a man has lost; our ideal of what he is becomes to him the hope and pattern of what he may become. "Love rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth." I have called this sincerity from the words rendered in the Authorized Version by "rejoiceth in the truth." And, certainly, were this the real translation, nothing could be more just. For he who loves will love truth not less than men. He will rejoice in the truth--rejoice not in what he has been taught to believe; not in this Church's doctrine or in that; not in this ism or in that ism; but "in the truth." He will accept only what is real; he will strive to get at facts; he will search for truth with an humble and unbiased mind, and cherish whatever he finds at any sacrifice. But the more literal translation of the Revised Version calls for just such a sacrifice for truth's sake here. For what Paul really meant is, as we there read, "Rejoiceth not in unrighteousness, but rejoiceth with the truth," a quality which probably no one English word--and certainly not sincerity--adequately defines. It includes, perhaps more strictly, the self-restraint which refuses to make capital out of others' faults; the charity which delights not in exposing the weakness of others, but "covereth all things"; the sincerity of purpose which endeavors to see things as they are, and rejoices to find them better than suspicion feared or calumny denounced. So much for the analysis of love. Now the business of our lives is to have these things in our characters. That is the supreme work to which we need to address ourselves in this world to learn love. Is life not full of opportunities for learning love? Every man and woman every day has a thousand of them. The world is not a playground; it is a schoolroom. Life is not a holiday, but an education. And the one eternal lesson for us all is how better we can love. What makes a man a good cricketer? Practise. What makes a man a good artist, a good sculptor, a good musician? Practise. What makes a man a good linguist, a good stenographer? Practise. What makes a man a good man. Practise. Nothing else. There is nothing capricious about religion. We do not get the soul in different ways, under different laws, from those in which we get the body and the mind. If a man does not exercise his arm he develops no biceps muscle; and if he does not exercise his soul, he acquires no muscle in his soul, no strength of character, no vigor of moral fiber nor beauty of spiritual growth. Love is not a thing of enthusiastic emotion. It is a rich, strong, manly, vigorous expression of the whole round Christian character--the Christlike nature in its fullest development. And the constituents of this great character are only to be built up by ceaseless practise. What was Christ doing in the carpenter's shop? Practising. Tho perfect, we read that He learned obedience, and grew in wisdom and in favor with God. Do not quarrel, therefore, with your lot in life. Do not complain of its never-ceasing cares, its petty environment, the vexations you have to stand, the small and sordid souls you have to live and work with. Above all, do not resent temptation; do not be perplexed because it seems to thicken round you more and more, and ceases neither for effort nor for agony nor prayer. That is your practise. That is the practise which God appoints you; and it is having its work in making you patient, and humble, and generous, and unselfish, and kind, and courteous. Do not grudge the hand that is molding the still too shapeless image within you. It is growing more beautiful, tho you see it not, and every touch of temptation may add to its perfection. Therefore keep in the midst of life. Do not isolate yourself. Be among men, and among things, and among troubles, and difficulties, and obstacles. You remember Goethe's words: _Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille, Doch ein Character in dem Strom der Welt_. "Talent develops itself in solitude; character in the stream of life." Talent develops itself in solitude--the talent of prayer, of faith, of meditation, of seeing the unseen; character grows in the stream of the world's life. That chiefly is where men are to learn love. How? Now how? To make it easier, I have named a few of the elements of love. But these are only elements. Love itself can never be defined. Light is a something more than the sum of its ingredients--a glowing, dazzling, tremulous ether. And love is something more than all its elements--a palpitating, quivering, sensitive, living thing. By synthesis of all the colors, men can make whiteness, they can not make light. By synthesis of all the virtues, men can make virtue, they can not make love. How then are we to have this transcendent living whole conveyed into our souls? We brace our wills to secure it. We try to copy those who have it. We lay down rules about it. We watch. We pray. But these things alone will not bring love into our nature. Love is an effect. And only as we fulfil the right condition can we have the effect produced. Shall I tell you what the cause is? If you turn to the Revised Version of the First Epistle of John you will find these words: "We love because he first loved us." "We love," not "We love him." That is the way the old version has it, and it is quite wrong. "We love--because he first loved us." Look at that word "because." It is the cause of which I have spoken. "Because he first loved us," the effect follows that we love, we love Him, we love all men. We can not help it. Because He loved us, we love, we love everybody. Our heart is slowly changed. Contemplate the love of Christ, and you will love. Stand before that mirror, reflect Christ's character, and you will be changed into the same image from tenderness to tenderness. There is no other way. You can not love to order. You can only look at the lovely object, and fall in love with it, and grow into likeness to it. And so look at this perfect character, this perfect life. Look at the great sacrifice as He laid down Himself, all through life, and upon the cross of Calvary; and you must love Him. And loving Him, you must become like Him. Love begets love. It is a process of induction. Put a piece of iron in the presence of an electrified body, and that piece of iron for a time becomes electrified. It is changed into a temporary magnet in the mere presence of a permanent magnet, and as long as you leave the two side by side they are both magnets alike. Remain side by side with Him who loved us, and gave Himself for us, and you too will become a permanent magnet, a permanently attractive force; and like Him you will draw all men unto you; like Him you will be drawn unto all men. That is the inevitable effect of love. Any man who fulfils that cause must have that effect produced in him. Try to give up the idea that religion comes to us by chance, or by mystery, or by caprice. It comes to us by natural law, or by spiritual law, for all law is divine. Edward Irving went to see a dying boy once, and when he entered the room he just put his hand on the sufferer's head, and said, "My boy, God loves you," and went away. And the boy started from his bed, and called out to the people in the house, "God loves me! God loves me!" It changed that boy. The sense that God loved him overpowered him, melted him down, and began the creating of a new heart in him. And that is how the love of God melts down the unlovely heart in man, and begets in him the new creature, who is patient and humble and gentle and unselfish. And there is no other way to get it. There is no mystery about it. We love others, we love everybody, we love our enemies, because He first loved us. Now I have a closing sentence or two to add about Paul's reason for singling out love as the supreme possession. It is a very remarkable reason. In a single word it is this: it lasts. "Love," urges Paul, "never faileth." Then he begins one of his marvelous lists of the great things of the day, and exposes them one by one. He runs over the things that men thought were going to last, and shows that they are all fleeting, temporary, passing away. "Whether there be prophecies, they shall fail." It was the mother's ambition for her boy in those days that he should become a prophet. For hundreds of years God had never spoken by means of any prophet, and at that time the prophet was greater than the king. Men waited wistfully for another messenger to come, and hung upon his lips when he appeared as upon the very voice of God. Paul says, "Whether there be prophecies, they shall fail." This book is full of prophecies. One by one they have "failed"; that is, having been fulfilled their work is finished; they have nothing more to do now in the world except to feed a devout man's faith. Then Paul talks about tongues. That was another thing that was greatly coveted. "Whether there be tongues, they shall cease." As we all know, many, many centuries have passed since tongues have been known in this world. They have ceased. Take it in any sense you like. Take it, for illustration merely, as languages in general--a sense which was not in Paul's mind at all, and which tho it can not give us the specific lesson will point the general truth. Consider the words in which these chapters were written--Greek. It has gone. Take the Latin--the other great tongue of those days. It ceased long ago. Look at the Indian language. It is ceasing. The language of Wales, of Ireland, of the Scottish Highlands is dying before our eyes. The most popular book in the English tongue at the present time, except the Bible, is one of Dickens' works, his "Pickwick Papers." It is largely written in the language of London street-life, and experts assure us that in fifty years it will be unintelligible to the average English reader. Then Paul goes further, and with even greater boldness adds, "Whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away." The wisdom of the ancients, where is it? It is wholly gone. A schoolboy today knows more than Sir Isaac Newton knew. His knowledge has vanished away. You put yesterday's newspaper in the fire. Its knowledge has vanished away. You buy the old editions of the great encyclopedias for a few cents. Their knowledge has vanished away. Look how the coach has been superseded by the use of steam. Look how electricity has superseded that, and swept a hundred almost new inventions into oblivion. One of the greatest living authorities, Sir William Thompson, said the other day, "The steam-engine is passing away." "Whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away." At every workshop you will see, in the back yard, a heap of old iron, a few wheels, a few levers, a few cranks, broken and eaten with rust. Twenty years ago that was the pride of the city. Men flocked in from the country to see the great invention; now it is superseded, its day is done. And all the boasted science and philosophy of this day will soon be old. But yesterday, in the University of Edinburgh, the greatest figure in the faculty was Sir James Simpson, the discoverer of chloroform. The other day his successor and nephew, Professor Simpson, was asked by the librarian of the university to go to the library and pick out the books on his subject that were no longer needed. And his reply to the librarian was this: "Take every textbook that is more than ten years old, and put it down in the cellar." Sir James Simpson was a great authority only a few years ago; men came from all parts of the earth to consult him; and almost the whole teaching of that time is consigned by the science of today to oblivion. And in every branch of science it is the same. "Now we know in part. We see through a glass darkly." Can you tell me anything that is going to last? Many things Paul did not condescend to name. He did not mention money, fortune, fame; but he picked out the great things of his time, the things the best men thought had something in them, and brushed them peremptorily aside. Paul had no charge against these things in themselves. All he said about them was that they would not last. They were great things, but not supreme things. There were things beyond them. What we are stretches past what we do, beyond what we possess. Many things that men denounce as sins are not sins; but they are temporary. And that is a favorite argument of the New Testament. John says of the world, not that it is wrong, but simply that it "passeth away." There is a great deal in the world that is delightful and beautiful; there is a great deal in it that is great and engrossing; but it will not last. All that is in the world, the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life, are but for a little while. Love not the world therefore. Nothing that it contains is worth the life and consecration of an immortal soul. The immortal soul must give itself to something that is immortal. And the immortal things are: "Now abideth faith, hope, love, but the greatest of these is love." Some think the time may come when two of these three things will also pass away--faith into sight, hope into fruition. Paul does not say so. We know but little now about the conditions of the life that is to come. But what is certain is that love must last. God, the eternal God, is love. Covet therefore that everlasting gift, that one thing which it is certain is going to stand, that one coinage which will be current in the universe when all the other coinages of all the nations of the world shall be useless and unhonored. You will give yourselves to many things, give yourselves first to love. Hold things in their proportion. _Hold things in their proportion._ Let at least the first great object of our lives be to achieve the character defended in these words, the character--and it is the character of Christ--which is built round love. I have said this thing is eternal. Did you ever notice how continually John associates love and faith with eternal life? I was not told when I was a boy that "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should have everlasting life." What I was told, I remember, was, that God so loved the world that, if I trusted in Him, I was to have a thing called peace, or I was to have rest, or I was to have joy, or I was to have safety. But I had to find out for myself that whosoever trusteth in Him--that is, whosoever loveth Him, for trust is only the avenue to love--hath everlasting life. The gospel offers a man life. Never offer men a thimbleful of gospel. Do not offer them merely joy, or merely peace, or merely rest, or merely safety; tell them how Christ came to give men a more abundant life than they have, a life abundant in love, and therefore abundant in salvation for themselves, and large in enterprise for the alleviation and redemption of the world. Then only can the gospel take hold of the whole of a man, body, soul, and spirit, and give to each part of his nature its exercise and reward. Many of the current gospels are addrest only to a part of man's nature. They offer peace, not life; faith, not love; justification, not regeneration. And men slip back again from such religion because it has never really held them. Their nature was not all in it. It offered no deeper and gladder life-current than the life that was lived before. Surely it stands to reason that only a fuller love can compete with the love of the world. To love abundantly is to live abundantly, and to love forever is to live forever. Hence, eternal life is inextricably bound up with love. We want to live forever for the same reason that we want to live tomorrow. Why do we want to live tomorrow? It is because there is some one who loves you, and whom you want to see tomorrow, and be with, and love back. There is no other reason why we should live on than that we love and are beloved. It is when a man has no one to love him that he commits suicide. So long as he has friends, those who love him and whom he loves, he will live; because to live is to love. Be it but the love of a dog, it will keep him in life; but let that go and he has no contact with life, no reason to live. He dies by his own hand. Eternal life is to know God, and God is love. This is Christ's own definition. Ponder it. "This is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." Love must be eternal. It is what God is. On the last analysis, then, love is life. Love never faileth, and life never faileth, so long as there is love. That is the philosophy of what Paul is showing us; the reason why in the nature of things love should be the supreme thing--because it is going to last; because in the nature of things it is an eternal life. It is a thing that we are living now, not that we get when we die; that we shall have a poor chance of getting when we die unless we are living now. No worse fate can befall a man in this world than to live and grow old all alone, unloving and unloved. To be lost is to live in an unregenerate condition, loveless and unloved; and to be saved is to love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth already in God; for God is love. Now I have all but finished. How many of you will join me in reading this chapter once a week for the next three months? A man did that once and it changed his whole life. You might begin by reading it every day, especially the verses which describe the perfect character. "Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself." Get these ingredients into your life. Then everything that you do is eternal. It is worth doing. It is worth giving time to. No man can become a saint in his sleep; and to fulfil the condition required demands a certain amount of prayer and meditation and time, just as improvement in any direction, bodily or mental, requires preparation and care. Address yourselves to that one thing; at any cost have this transcendent character exchanged for yours. You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments that stand out, the moments when you have really lived, are the moments when you have done things in a spirit of love. As memory scans the past, above and beyond all the transitory pleasures of life, there leap forward those supreme hours when you have been enabled to do unnoticed kindnesses to those around about you, things too trifling to speak about, but which you feel have entered into your eternal life. I have seen almost all the beautiful things God has made; I have enjoyed almost every pleasure that He has planned for man; and yet as I look back I see standing out above all the life that has gone four or five short experiences when the love of God reflected itself in some poor imitation, some small act of love of mine, and these seem to be the things which alone of all one's life abide. Everything else in all our lives is transitory. Every other good is visionary. But the acts of love which no man knows about, or can ever know about, they never fail. In the Book of Matthew, where the judgment day is depicted for us in the imagery of One seated upon a throne and dividing the sheep from the goats, the test of a man then is not, "How have I believed?" but "How have I loved?" The test of religion, the final test of religion, is not religiousness, but love. I say the final test of religion at that great day is not religiousness, but love; not what I have done, not what I have believed; not what I have achieved, but how I have discharged the common charities of life. Sins of commission in that awful indictment are not even referred to. By what we have not done, by sins of omission, we are judged. It could not be otherwise. For the withholding of love is the negation of the spirit of Christ, the proof that we never knew Him, that for us He lived in vain. It means that He suggested nothing in all our thoughts, that He inspired nothing in all our lives, that we were not once near enough to Him to be seized with the spell of His compassion for the world. It means that I lived for myself, I thought for myself, For myself, and none beside-- Just as if Jesus had never lived, As if He had never died. It is the Son of Man before whom the nations of the world shall be gathered. It is in the presence of humanity that we shall be charged. And the spectacle itself, the mere sight of it, will silently judge each one. Those will be there whom we have met and helped; or there, the unpitied multitude whom we neglected or despised. No other witness need be summoned. No other charge than lovelessness shall be preferred. Be not deceived. The words which all of us shall one day hear sound not of theology but of life, not of churches and saints but of the hungry and the poor, not of creeds and doctrines but of shelter and clothing, not of Bibles and prayer-books but of cups of cold water in the name of Christ. Thank God the Christianity of today is coming nearer the world's need. Live to help that on. Thank God men know better, by a hairbreadth, what religion is, what God is, who Christ is, where Christ is. Who is Christ? He who fed the hungry, clothed the naked, visited the sick. And where is Christ? Where?--Whoso shall receive a little child in My name receiveth Me. And who are Christ's? Every one that loveth is born of God. WAGNER I AM A VOICE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Charles Wagner, French Protestant pastor and moral essayist, was born in 1851 in Alsace. He is at present rector of the Reformed Church in Fontenay-Lous-Bois, in the Department of Seine. He received a comprehensive education at the universities of Paris, Strasburg and Goettingen, and after undertaking many cures in the provinces he went to Paris in 1882, where he occupied himself in a crusade against the degrading tendency of life, art and literature in certain of their Parisian phases. He has been a founder of several popular universities under the auspices of the Society for the Promotion of Morality. He has published many books, and "La Vie Simple" ("The Simple Life") was crowned by the French Academy and has been translated into many European languages, as well as into Japanese. Wagner has been styled the French Tolstoy, but he is less visionary and much more popular and practical in his views than the Russian mystic. The author of "The Simple Life" was greeted with many expressions of warm appreciation on his visit to the United States a few years ago. He was a guest at the Presidential mansion by invitation of President Roosevelt, who has highly commended "The Simple Life." WAGNER Born in 1851 I AM A VOICE[1] [Footnote 1: From "The Gospel of Life," by Charles Wagner, by permission of the McClure Company, publishers. Copyright, 1905, by McClure, Phillips & Co.] _I am the voice[2] of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord_.--John i., 23. [Footnote 2: In the French version of the Scriptures it is "_a_ voice," and it is necessary to retain this reading in order to render precisely Pastor Wagner's thought.--_Translator_.] Nothing is rarer than a personality. So many causes, both interior and exterior, hinder the normal development of human beings, so many hostile forces crush them, so many illusions lead them astray, that there is required a concurrence of extraordinary circumstances to render possible the existence of an independent character. But when, God alone knows at the cost of what efforts and of what happy accidents, a vigorous and original personality has been able to unfold, nothing is rarer than not to see it degenerate into a mere personage. History teaches us that men exceptional in will and energy almost always become obstructive and mischievous. They commence by serving a cause and end by taking possession of it so completely that, from being its servants, they become its masters. Instead of being men of a cause, they make the cause that of a man, and they degrade the most sacred realities to the paltry level of their ambitious egoism. Thus, when we meet with strong natures, endowed with the secret of leadership and command, yet able to resist the subtle temptation to which so many of the finer spirits have succumbed, it behooves us to bow and to salute in them a greatness before which all that it is customary to call by that name fades into nothingness. If ever soul encompassed this greatness, it was that of John the Baptist. John is little known. Of him there remain only a few traits of physiognomy and a few snatches of discourse. But these snatches are full of character, these traits possess a sculptural relief; just as with broken trunks of columns, with fragments of stones, all that is left of temples that were once the marvels of ancient art, they enable us to conceive of the grandeur of the whole edifice to which they once belonged. John was at once strong and humble, energetic and self-detached. Never has an individuality so well-tempered been less personal. Identifying himself completely with his rôle as precursor, he found perfect happiness in effacing himself in the glory of Christ, just as the dawn disappears in the splendors of the morning. History is full of precursors who impede and withstand those whom they had first announced. When the time comes to retire and to give way to those for whom they have prepared the way, they do not have the courage to sacrifice themselves. They go on forever, and often become the worst enemies of the cause they have defended. John knew nothing of these failings which are the perpetual scandal in the development of the kingdom of God. Not only did he say, speaking of Jesus: "He must increase, but I must decrease," but he made all his acts conform to these words. "This my joy is therefore fulfilled," he said, as he dwelt upon the first advances of the gospel, and he exprest thus a sweetness of sacrifice forever unknown to personal souls that remain vulgar in spite of their genius. Finally, John described himself metaphorically in that inimitable prophetic speech which explains in full the idea that he formed for himself of his ministry. Under the sway of a morbid curiosity, the crowd, more perplexed by the appearance of the worker than attentive to the work, prest him with questions. Who then art thou, mysterious preacher? Art thou one of the old prophets of Israel, escaped from his rocky tomb? Or art thou perchance He whom we await? No, answered John, I am neither one of the prophets nor the Messiah himself, I am no one: I am a voice! I am a voice! This is not a formula that sums up the vocation of the prophets solely, or of all those who, in the pulpit or in the tribune, by the pen or by the public discourse, exert an influence upon their contemporaries. These words are addrest to every one. They define for every man, the humble yet great duty of truth that he is called to fulfil in his sphere and according to the measure of his ability. At the epoch in which we live, such a device is so applicable to the time being, so pressing, so needful for us to hear, that it is wise to engrave it in the very foreground of our consciousness. To become a voice we must begin by keeping still. We must listen. The whole world is a tongue of which the spirit is the meaning. God engraved its fiery capitals in the immensity of the heavens, and traced its delicate smaller letters on the flower, on the grass, on the human soul, as rich, as incommensurable as the abysses of space. Whosoever you are, brother, before letting yourself utter one word, lend your ear to that voice that seeks you, I might almost add, that implores you. Listen!--Listen to the confused murmur that arises from the human depths, and that, comprising in it all tears, all torments, as well as all joys, becomes the sigh of creation. Listen in your heart to remorse, the sad and poignant echo that sin, traversing life, leaves everywhere upon its passage. Shut your ear to no sound, however unobtrusive, however sad, it may be. There are voices that issue from the tombs, others that call to you from out the abyss of past ages; repel them not, listen! One and all, they have something to say to you. But do not be content with listening to man. Pierce nature, and, in visible creation as in the invisible sanctuary of souls, watch attentively for the revelation of Him whose eternal thought every living thing, humble or sublime, translates after its own fashion. He speaks to you in the dark nights and in the bright light of dawn, in the infinite radiance of the worlds beyond all reckoning, and in the humble stalk that awaits, in the valley bottom, its ray of light and its drop of dew. Listen!--If there is anguish in the voice of poor humanity, there are in great nature profound words of soothing, of hope. Look at the flower in the fields, listen to the birds in the skies! After the distrest voices that perturb you, you shall know the voices that relieve and console. There shall befall you that which befell the nun whose memory is preserved for us in the old legends. Listening to the forest voices she had gone, following them always, as far as the thick solitudes where nothing any longer comes to trouble the collected soul. There, in the shade of a tree where she had seated herself, she heard a song till then unknown to her ears. It was the song of the mystic bird. This song said, in marvelous modulations, all that man thinks and feels, all that he suffers, all that he seeks, all that falls short of fulfilment for him. It summed up in harmonies the destinies of living beings and the immense pity that is at the root of things. Softly, on light, strong wings, it lifted the soul to the heights where it looks upon reality. And the nun, her hands clasped, listened, listened without end, forgetting earth, sky, time, forgetting herself. She listened for centuries without ever growing tired, finding in the song that charmed her a sweetness forever new. Dear and truthful image of what the soul experiences when, mute, as respectful as a child and as ready of belief, it listens in the universal silence to the voices that translate for it the things that are eternal! All those who have become voices have traveled this way. At Patmos or in the desert, on Horeb or on Sinai, they have trembled with fright or started with joy. But everything has its time. There comes a day when all voices, soft or terrible, that man has heard, grow still, to let henceforth only one be heard, which cries to him: "Go! go now and be a witness of the things you have heard! Go! I send you forth as lambs among wolves! Go! I send you toward men whose brow is harsh, whose heart is wicked, but fear nothing, I shall embolden your face, I shall give you a heart of brass and a forehead of diamond." When that moment has come, one must, in order to remain faithful to his mission, remember that after all he is only a voice. Truth does not belong to us, it is we who belong to truth! Wo to him who possesses it and treats it as something that belongs to himself. Happy is he who is possest by it! No preference, no kinship, no sympathy counts here. Alas! it is not thus that men understand it. It is for this reason that they degrade truth and that it becomes without power in their hands. Instead of winging its way heavenward in vigorous flight, it crawls along the earth, like an eagle whose wings have been broken. Nothing is sadder than to see how those who ought to lend their voice to truth, turn it to their own uses and play with it. The voice, human speech, that sacred organ, whose whole worth lies in sincerity, has in all ages been the victim of odious profanations. But in this age it is more than ever attainted. The evil from which it suffers is defilement. At certain epochs a word was as good as a man. It was an act total, supreme, guaranteed by the whole of life. There was no need to sign, to stamp, to legalize. Speech was held between friends and enemies alike, more sacred than any sanctuary, and man maintained it, with the obscure but just sentiment that it is at the base of society, and that if words lose their value, there is no longer any society possible. Later the written word was considered sacred. And coming nearer to our own day, we have been able to see the masses, guided ever by that quite legitimate sentiment of the holiness of speech, regard everything printed as gospel truth. Those times are no more. We have lied too much, by the living word, the pen, and the press. We have said and printed too much that is light, false, wittingly disfigured. Armed with an instrumentality that multiplies thought and spreads it broadcast to the four corners of the earth with a rapidity unknown to our fathers, we have made use of it, for the most part, to extend slander more widely and to cause a greater amount of doubtful intelligence to swarm upon the earth. So well have we spun speech out in all our mouths, so thoroughly have we deprived it of its proper nature and caused it to become sophisticated, that it is no longer of the least value. The confidence of the masses in authority, which is one of the slowest and most difficult conquests of humanity, we have lost like a thing of no worth. They no longer say to any one who now lifts up his voice: Who are you? But: What end have you in view? What party do you serve? By what interest are you led? By whom have you been bought? That there may be a sacred truth, loved, respected, adored; a truth that is worth more than life, to which one may give himself wholly and with happiness--this idea diverts the cynics and makes those whom the cruel experiences of life have rendered distrustful, shake their heads. If ever an epoch has needed to rehabilitate human speech, it is our own. What good are we if it is good for nothing, since it is at the root of all our institutions? Who will give it back its potency?--They who will know how to resign themselves to being but a voice! Permit me to bring home to you, by means of a very modest example, what man may gain in force by being but a voice. Look at that clock. When the hour has come, it marks it. Whether it be the hour of birth or of death, the hour of joy or of sorrow, the hour of longed-for meetings, or of heart-breaking farewells, the clock strikes that hour. It is only a mechanism, but it is scrupulously exact, it measures that time which descends to us drop by drop from the bosom of eternity, and when the hammer falls on the brazen bell, the entire universe confirms what it announces. The suns and the worlds mark at this very moment, in the immortal light, the same point of time that is indicated below on earth, some starless night, by the humblest village clock. We must imitate the clock. In full consciousness, through absolute submission, man should make himself the humble instrument of truth, and go through supreme servitude to supreme power. When he does not do this, he is only an imperfect timepiece. But when, bound by his word, chained to the truth that he serves, he has become its slave, and when, without hate, without preference, without human fear, without other desire than that of being faithful, he proclaims what is just, true, right, good, the rocks are less firm on their base than this man: for he is a voice! A voice is, if you like, a slight thing. Stilled as soon as it awakened, it is heard only by a few and for a little while. It is said that singers are greatly to be pitied, since posterity can not hear them. Nothing of them remains. And yet how many marvelous forces underlie this apparent fragility! The thunder has its roar, the breeze has its tenderness, but their power is transitory; they are sounds and not voices. A voice is a living sound, it is the vibrant echo of a soul. It is doubtless that most fragile thing, a breath, but joined to that which is most durable, spirit. And it is for this reason that, if the instant when it is born sees it die, centuries of centuries can not destroy its effect. The truth which is in it confers immortality upon it, and when this voice escapes from a human breast, he who speaks, sings or weeps, feels indeed that eternity has concluded an alliance with him. Peeling his fragile testimony confirmed by all that endures and can not die, he says with Christ: "Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away!" The holy labors entrusted to the voice can never be counted. Because of the very fact that it lives and that it contains a soul, it is the great awakener, the incomparable evoker. When, obscure still and unknown, a thought distracts us and slumbers at the bottom of our being, a voice is all that is needed to make it emerge into the light. With maternal tenderness, the voice borrows all the energies of incubation, to infuse with warmth, to fortify, the nascent germs of spiritual life. In it lives and breaks forth what, in the evolving soul, tends feebly and furtively toward the flowering. In short, the voice, speech, the tongue, condenses in a single focus incalculable quantities of rays. Only think of the efforts that human thought must have made to reach that clearness that enables it to become speech. Every word that you utter without giving it a thought is a monument toward which centuries and multitudes of minds have wrought. A world is contained in it. Poor words! one man decks himself out in them, another wraps himself up in them, but how few know of the warmth of life and love that has put them into the world that they may be forever the witnesses of the past for posterity! No matter, for when they have been made sufficiently to resound like an inanimate cymbal, there comes an hour when they revive under the breath of a true and living being, and they depart to spread life. Then they fulfil their rôle as educators. To educate is to explain a being to itself. And this is the benign service that the voice performs. It tells us what we think better than we can ourselves. It unbinds the chains of the captive soul and permits it to take its flight. Happy the child, happy the young man who meets with a voice to decipher him to himself! This is what Christ did in those blest hours when He reunited the children of His people, as a bird reunites its brood under its wings! What the voice does in detail, it continues to accomplish on the larger scale. At certain moments societies seem a prey to a sort of chaos. A number of contrary forces clash and perturb them, as they perturb and rend individual souls. Men seek, feeling their way, a road that seems to elude them. A crowd of spirits, by the very fact of their contemporaneity, feel themselves distracted and agitated all in the same way. Confusedly and provoked by the same sufferings they elaborate the same ideal and formulate the same desires. But they all wander along twilit paths on the side of the night where the light seems to be breaking through, without, however, being able to pierce the darkness. These are the preliminary agonies of the great historical epochs. Then let a being more powerful, more vital, an elect soul that has passed through this phase and conquered these shadows, become incarnate in a voice! That is enough. The personal word which expresses the soul of that epoch and responds to its needs, is found. It sounds through the world like a new _fiat lux_! Everywhere, in those who listen to it and feel secret affinities with it in themselves, it constitutes a magnificent revelation of light and life. All these hearts vibrate in unison with one; and, gathering up all these scattered notes into a single harmony, he who expresses the sentiments of all, renders an account of the wonderful power of which he is the instrument. No, it is no longer a man that speaks: what sounds upon his lips, is the whole soul of a people, is a whole epoch, is a new world. A voice is also that inimitable sigh, that pure sob which tells of grief because it issues from a suffering heart. It is pity and compassion, it is the angel of God arriving among us on the caressing breath, a messenger of mercy, and pouring into the tortured depths of our poor heart its healing dew. It is Jesus saying to Mary, and, in her, to all those whom grief afflicts: "Why weepest thou?" It is David singing: "Why art thou cast down, O my soul?" It is Isaiah crying: "Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people; speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem!" A voice is, on the solitary path where our will strays, the faithful shepherd calling his sheep; it is every sign, even tho it be made by the hand of a child, which in the days of forgetfulness and unrestraint, suddenly wakes us and warns us that our feet skirt the abysses. Then, after the work of education, of creation, of pity, comes the work of severity, of punishment, of destruction. The voice has been compared to a sword. Like it, it flames and punishes. A voice is Nathan rising up before the criminal king and calling down upon his head the avenging lightning of this word: "Thou art the man!" The sword attacks, destroys, but it defends, also, and this is its fairest work. Never is the voice more touching than when it is lifted in favor of the weak, and, when, suddenly, in the midst of the iniquities of brute force that it denounces, marks with its stigma, it causes justice to shine forth and the truth to be felt, in the holy soul-traversing thrill, that God Himself is there and that His hour has come! A voice has its echo. When this echo is sympathetic, it is endowed with the sweetest recompense and obliterates the memory of many sorrows. But this echo is often hostile. It arises from wrath and is increased by hatred. Then it is resistance, riot, that rumbles. It is the passions and the scourged vices that twist and bellow like deer under the lash of the trainer. How many times, O, faithful voices, souls of peace and truth, has the spirit that animates you driven you to these fearful encounters--you who have heard in the silence of your hearts the holy verities and who know their worth, you are obliged to go bearing them in the face of menace, of mockery, of trembling rage where they seem to us like Daniel in the lion's den! A terrible ordeal! but one before which the testifying voices have never recoiled. Luther, who knew the emotions of the great battles of the spirit where one man is alone in the face of a thousand, where tinder the growing clamors and the cries of death ... a voice struggles like a torch in a tempest, has given to the servants of truth a counsel that is the alpha and omega of their austere mission. When they have said all, done all, essayed all, put all their being and all their love into the proclamation of what they have to announce, then, he says, "let them be ready to be hooted at and spat upon!" And not only should they be ready but they should accept this lot with happiness. Christ says to them: "Happy are they that are outraged and persecuted for the sake of justice!" Alas, the rudest proof for him who speaks the truth is not to arouse indignation. That, at least, is a result, and however sad it may be, it bears witness to him who has spoken. Certain protests, despite their fury, are a sort of involuntary homage. The supreme trial for a voice is indifference. When John called himself a voice in the wilderness, he alluded to that external solitude where his voice was raised. But this solitude, on certain days was full of life and the gospel cites for our benefit certain facts which prove that the words with which it resounded were not lost in the empty spaces. They moved and struck home from the humblest regions of society to the exalted spheres, to the royal throne itself. John garnered love and hate, blessing and curse, the desirable fruits of all energetic action. Since that time and before, more than one voice has been able, applying them to itself, to give to those prophetic words, "voices in the wilderness," another very melancholy significance. The supreme image of despair is a voice that is lost in the silence, as is lost, in the bosom of dead solitudes, the call that no one hears, for succor that will never come. After having spoken of the different voices, of their power, of their effects, let us bestow a compassionate remembrance upon the lost voices, on those who were or who are still, in the most lamentable sense of that word, voices in the wilderness.--To be a man, a soul, to have felt the lighting of a holy flame within oneself; to love truth and justice; to feel the pain of contact with a life ruled over by falsehood and violence; at the heart of this poignant contrast between a divine ideal and a heart-rending reality, to receive from his conscience, from God himself, the command to speak; to put his life into this work, to renounce everything to be only a voice ... and after all this to see himself forsaken, neglected, despised! To wear oneself out slowly in a strife obscure and without issue; to perish without having aroused either sympathy or opposition, to disappear into oblivion before disappearing in the tomb ... ah! all the furies, all the bloody reprisals, the dungeons, the gibbets, the massacres, all the martyrdoms by which human wickedness strove to stifle the voice of the just, are less horrible than this extermination by apathy. And yet, not to press things to this cruel extremity, but remembering the parable of the sower, where so many seeds are lost for the few that take root and flourish, ought we not be willing to be, in the greatest number of cases, voices in the wilderness, only too happy if our thankless labors are recompensed elsewhere by an encouraging echo? Have we not here, on the contrary, the image of human life? we are always aspiring toward an ideal more elevated than that which we realize. We are always precursors, and it becomes us to accept humbly what that destiny holds both of pain and of beauty. Besides, do we know whether voices that seem to be lost, are so in reality? Are the stones that are hidden in the foundations of a beautiful edifice, and thanks to which the whole fabric is supported, lost because no one sees them? In the same way it must be that many voices are forgotten apparently, until such time as, added together and finding in each other mutual support, they end by emerging into the full light of day. To wait and to work; to do his duty, and leave the rest to God; to journey through life, gathering truth into his heart, and then into the family, the Church, the city; to be its faithful voice; this is the best use a man can make of his mortal days. And should it be your lot to be voices in the wilderness; among your children deaf to your cries; among your compatriots insensible to your warnings, console yourselves. Greater than you have suffered the same fate. Unite yourself in spirit to their company and be happy to suffer with them. At least as you come to understand more and more from day to day that truth can not perish, and that it is potent even on feeble lips; you will establish in your hearts faith in the world that endures, and you will be less astonished and less disconcerted when you see the face of this world pass away. You will live by the sacred fire cherished in your souls. Let your furrow close, your hope will not perish! Like Moses on Nebo, you will enter into the silence, having filled your dying eyes with the spectacle of the promised land! GORDON MAN IN THE IMAGE OF GOD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE George Angier Gordon, Congregational divine, was born in Scotland, 1853. He was educated at Harvard, and has been minister of Old South Church, Boston, Massachusetts, since 1884. His pulpit style is conspicuous for its directness and forcefulness, and he is considered in a high sense the successor of Philip Brooks. He was lecturer in the Lowell Institute Course, 1900; Lyman Beecher Lecturer, Yale, 1901; university preacher to Harvard, 1886-1890; to Yale, 1888-1901; Harvard overseer. He is the author of "The Witness to Immortality" (1897), and many other works. GORDON Born in 1853 MAN IN THE IMAGE OF GOD[1] [Footnote 1: Printed here by kind permission of Dr. Gordon.] _And God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him_.--Genesis i., 27. It must never be forgotten that all truth lies in the order of life itself. There is a natural environment, and in it have been, real and mighty from the beginning, the laws and forces which science has but recently discovered. Copernicus discovered the true order of the solar system; but the order itself has been there from the morning of time. Newton discovered the force of gravity, but that force has been in the natural situation since creation. Chemists have been able to make out sixty-five or sixty-six irreducible elements; but while chemistry is young, the elements are everlasting. Electricity is the discovery of yesterday, and yet it has been at play in man's environment from the foundation of the world. The continuity of life, from the lowest forms of it up to man, has been a fact from the first; but not until this century has the fact meant anything. Few things impress the imagination more powerfully than the sense of the forces that have surrounded man from his first appearance on the earth, and that have been noted and utilized only in recent times. There stands the immemorial force, and men have had no eyes for it till yesterday. Thoughtful men begin to look upon the environment in a new spirit. They begin to walk within it in amazement and hope. All the forces of the material universe are here, and only a few things about them have been discovered. The natural environment is rich beyond all calculation or dream; it is exhaustless. Here in the field of man's life is the alluring object of science. Here in the natural situation are the everlasting and benign energies that wait to be discovered and prest into human service. There is a human environment, and all the fundamental truth about man has been present in it from the start. Moses gave his nomadic brethren the ten words; but they were written in the human heart ages before they were inscribed upon stone. The great Hebrew prophets gave to the world the vision of one God, His righteous government of the world, and His election of a single race for the service of all the races; but God and His government and His method in the education of man were real and mighty before Amos, and Hosea, and Isaiah, and Jeremiah beheld them. Christ revealed the Father through His own divine Sonhood; but the Fatherhood of God is an eternal truth. Nowhere is the divineness of Christ more obvious than in the ease and adequacy with which He, and He alone, is able to read the meaning of the human situation. Christ as Prophet, as Seer and Discoverer, is most amazing to the most gifted. His eye for fact is divine. He notes the falling sparrow, and at once reaches the universal fatherly foresight and control of God. His consuming vision goes everywhere, turning the hidden truth of life into light and joy in His parables. His teaching is revelation, the unveiling of the aboriginal divine order. He makes nothing; He reveals what God made. And when He increases life it is by showing the path to that increase ordained of God, insight and obedience. The will of God is the final law for heaven and earth; the vision of it and surrender to it are the path of life. Here we touch the depth of the old faith. God the Father creates, and the Son reveals. The order of the Spirit is eternal; the revelation of it is in time and for sense-bound men. Here we see in a mirror and dimly; there they behold face to face. And Christ drew forth into light the divine significance of man's life, as God originally made it; and that divine meaning of existence thus drawn out is the gospel of Christ. In the text we are carried by a true seer back of all traditions, behind all conventions, beyond all beliefs about life to life itself as it lies in its own freshness and fulness. We are led to look upon human life newly made, still warm with the touch of the creative hand, and yet containing in it that very hour all that the Lord eventually drew out of it. If the first man had understood himself he would have been essentially a Christian. And therefore I propose to evolve from the original human situation, as described in the text, the outline of what I take to be a great faith. I. If the first man had understood himself, he would have seen in himself the interpreter of nature. From the first command, "Let there be light," to the final, "Let us make man in our image," there are two things to be noted. There is continuity in the creative process, and there is an ascension from the lower to the higher. The first duty of our self-comprehending Adam will be to look backward. He will look across the wide field whose farther limit lies in cloud and whose hither border touches his feet. He will survey the creative process that has led up to and that has come to its climax in him. And as he thinks of himself as the product of nature, must he not conclude that as reason is the result, reason must have preceded the process and governed it? Humanity is the issue; therefore humanity must have planned the issue and secured it. Back of this march of life, behind this developing and ascending order, out in the darkness, before the light was created, there was the Mind that accounts for man. Thus the last becomes the first, the man that ends the creative process sees that a human God must have preceded the process. This truth is one of the greater insights of the time. The continuity of life, from the lowest forms to the highest, has received during the last fifty years an unparalleled recognition. So, too, with the fact of the steady ascent of life. Not indeed in a literal and yet in a true way, the modern scientific conception is a wonderful parallel to the sublime hymn with which the Bible opens. In the beginning was the fire-mist. In that fire-mist began the process of development. It became worlds, systems innumerable, a stellar universe, and within this whole a solar order, an earth beating forward in preparation for the advent of life. Life when it came flowed into countless forms. From the shapeless mass it pushed on upward into successively higher and finer structures, ever aspiring toward man. Ages preceded the advent of man. There were upon the part of life ages of preparation, ages of climbing. Before life rose the mountain of the Lord; it must be scaled and its summit reached before man could put in an appearance. But the hour for which the whole cosmos had been travailing in pain could not be indefinitely delayed. In the fulness of time, as the tree bursts into bloom, as the tide rolls to the flood, as the light breaks in through the gates of morning, nature came to her supreme expression in man. Man is not here on his own strength. He is not in the bosom of things unaccounted for. He is the child of nature; her last act, her highest product, the best that is in her power to bring forth, the son in whose wondrous being her own motherhood is to undergo total transformation. That is the modern scientific conception; look for a moment at its greatness. Man as final issue of nature must turn round and look backward. He must look down the long line of life to the far-off first beginning. He must pass beyond the earliest forms in which the vital movement began to the mysterious, formless, eternal power behind all. And it is here that nature is lifted into a new character by her human product. In that eternal power there must be a reason to account for man's reason, conscience to account for his conscience, love to account for his love, spirit to explain his spirit. Nature as mother must become spirit to account for the soul of her son. The flower shows what was in the seed, the oak is the revelation of what was in the heart of the acorn; and man as the last and best outcome of nature is the authoritative expression of the power that is behind nature. Thus the mind that is the final product of nature discovers the mind that is the source of nature. Man seeking the origin of his being finds it on the farther side of nature in One like unto a son of man. He learns later to distinguish between the reality and the image, between God and godlike man. And then a wireless telegraphy is established between them across the vast untraveled distances of nature. The life near to God can not send the tokens of His inmost character upward to man; the brute life near to man can not carry downward to God man's thoughts and hopes. The animal life that stretches in an expanse so wide between the Creator and His best work can not connect the human and the divine. But when the spirit to which nature comes in man has once seen the Spirit in which nature must begin, then the wireless telegraphy comes into play. The heart, that is the last product of life, sends out its mysterious currents, its aspirations, its gladness, its grief, and its hope; and these repeat themselves in the great heart of God. And forth from the Spirit behind nature issue the messages of recognition, of sympathy, of intimated ideals and endless incentive, that register themselves in the soul of man. Nature is a solid, sympathetic, and now and then glorified, and yet dumb, highway between God and man. Her beauty belongs to the Spirit that she does not know, and it speaks to the Spirit that is older than her child. She is a mute, unconscious sacrament between the infinite reason and the finite, a path for the lightning that plays backward and forward between the soul of man and the soul of God. The great primal fact in the human environment is that man is the interpreter of nature. In this character of interpreter of nature he receives his first message from God, and makes his first response. II. The second fact in the human situation is that religion is the interpreter of man. As man looks backward he beholds beyond nature a face like his own, only diviner; and ever afterward the noblest aspiration of his soul is to win the smile of that face and to escape its frown. Our self-comprehending Adam would confess that he knew himself only when he noted within him the lover of the infinite. And here history leads the way. You look into "The Book of the Dead," and you see what high and serious things religion meant for the early Egyptian. The pyramids are monuments to religion. The art of the ancient races was chiefly homage to the divine. The Athenian Parthenon would never have been but for faith in the goddess that shielded the city. Greek art, the greatest art in the world, is primarily a tribute to faith. Those marvelous statues were likenesses of the gods; those incomparable temples were dwelling-places for the gods. Religion is in the warp and woof of the world's love and sorrow, its art and literature, its patriotism and history. The life of man is the cathedral window, and religion is the colored figure that stands in it. The two are inseparable. You can not abolish the figure without breaking the window; you can not banish religion without destroying humanity. Try to explain Homer's world without Olympus; account for Mohammedanism and make no reference to faith; write the history of the Middle Ages and take no note of the "Divine Comedy"; sum up the meaning of Persian and Indian civilization and pay no heed to religion; show what Hebraism is and leave unnoticed its consciousness of God, and you will create a parallel to the philosopher who should endeavor to trace the significance of human life apart from man's passion for the infinite. Here then is the key to manhood. He is a being over whom the unseen wields an endless fascination. There is in him a thirst that nothing can quench save the living God. His chief attribute is an attribute of wo, an incapacity for content within the limits of the visible and temporal. His differentiation from the brute is at this point absolute. Between man and the lower orders of life there is a line of likeness; there is also from the beginning a line of unlikeness. In physical structure man is both similar and dissimilar to the animal. As bread-winner and economist he is kindred and he is in contrast to the creatures below him. In the home, in society, and in the state in which both home and society are set and protected, the line of likeness grows less and less distinct, while the line of unlikeness becomes bolder and plainer. It is impossible to deny observation to the dog and impossible to grant to it science. The instinct for beauty belongs to the bird, but art in the full sense of the word, as the self-conscious expression of beautiful ideas, is no part of its life. One can not decline to note method in the existence of the brute, and one is compelled to withold from it philosophy. In these higher activities the line of likeness between man and the animal is of the faintest description; while the line of contrast becomes more and more pronounced and significant. When we come to the summit of man the likeness vanishes utterly. Among the lower life of the world there is no _Magnificat_, there is no _Nunc Dimittis_; the beginning and the end do not link themselves to the Eternal. The brute has no religion, no temple, no priest, no Bible, no sacrament of love between itself and the invisible. The tower of this church tells at once, and from afar, that it is a church. Near at hand, much besides the tower tells the same story. There is the cruciform foundation; there is the structure of its walls. There is the outside with distinct note; there is the inside with its joyous beauty. Look at the church closely and you need no tower to proclaim what it is. And yet the tower is its most conspicuous witness: at a distance it is the sole witness. Religion is similarly the eminent token that man belongs to a divine order. The basis of his being in sacrifice should repeat the same tale. Civilization as a struggle after social righteousness should announce the same fact. Man's thoughts and feelings, and their manifold and marvelous expression in art, in institutions, and in systems of opinion, utter the same testimony. And yet the tower of his being, high soaring and far seen, is his feeling for the invisible. You do not know man until you behold him worshiping. III. The third fact in our human situation is that Christianity is the interpretation of religion. You see the devout old Jew, Simeon, who met Jesus as His mother brought Him for the first time into the temple; and there you behold the old faith interpreted by the new. All that was best in the Hebrew religion is conserved and carried higher in the Christian religion. Everywhere the devoutest Jews were conscious of wants which the national faith did not meet. They waited for the consolation of Israel, and when Christ came he supplied satisfactions which Hebraism could not supply. Christianity commended itself to the disciples of Christ because it seemed to be their own faith at its best. They were carried over into it by the logic of their previous belief and their deep human need. Paul sought righteousness as a Jew; when he became a Christian, righteousness was still his great quest. And Christianity commended itself to him because the national ideal of righteousness was set before him in a sublimer form, and because a new inspiration came to him in his pursuit of it. The old immemorial goal of human endeavor was exalted, and the everlasting incentives were filled with the freshness of a divine life. Thus the religious Jew, when Christ came, was like a convalescent patient. The process of recovery was going on, but in a way that was discouragingly slow. The longing was for the higher altitudes of the spirit, for the pure and bracing atmosphere of some exalted leader, for an environment richer in healing ministry and in restoring power. That longing Christ met. He carried His believing countrymen on to the heights. He surrounded them with the freshness of His own spirit. He put over them a new sky. He took them into a new environment, rich with His truth and grace, tender with infinite sympathy, stored with the forces that work for spiritual vigor, filled with the love of His Father. Ask Peter or James or John or Paul, ask any believing Jew and he will tell you that Christianity is simply the consummation of his faith as a Jew. The gospel moves along the same line of self-verification with reference to all the great religions. The Persian believes in eternal light, and he hates the contending darkness. Christianity says that God is light, and that in Him is no darkness at all; that Jesus is the Light of the world, and that whosoever followeth Him shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life. The Greek was full of humanity, and he could not help making his gods and goddesses simply larger and more beautiful men and women. What is the soul of that amazingly beautiful and seemingly fantastic mythology of the Greeks? Why do they worship Apollo and Aphrodite, Hermes and Athene? Because they can think of nothing higher than ideal humanity. And Christ comes, the ideal man. The beauty of the Lord is upon Him. His thoughts and feelings and purpose and character are the most perfect things in the world. He identifies Himself with man, and He identifies Himself with God. He is the Son of man, and as such He is the Son of God. And thus a human. God, a human universe, a human religion is offered to the Greek, and in place of the wonderful mythology the clear, warm, divine fact. The Mohammedan believes in will; and the gospel puts before him that ultimate irresistible Will as a Will to all good, eternally burdened with love, and nothing but love, for man. The Hindu is smitten with an endless craving after rest, and he thinks the path to peace lies in the diminution and final extinction of being. Christ goes to the Hindu and says: "Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." He sets before the Hindu an infinite social peace; he calls into play the moral will that for ages has been allowed to slumber. The goal is high social harmony; the path to it is the intelligent will in faithful, inspired, victorious obedience. The need of the Hindu is not less but more and better existence. The way out of his despair is through fulness of life. His misery is but the dumb prayer for eternal life, that is, for existence supreme in its character and in its volume. Thus Christianity is everywhere the interpreter of religion. Everywhere it carries the world's faith to its best. It is the consummation both of the human need and the divine answer. And to-day, in our own world, it goes on the same high errand. The intuitions of righteousness, the sympathies with goodness, the wish for the more abundant life, the ideals and the struggles, the hope and the fear, without which man would not be man, find their interpreter in Christianity. It is the soul carried to the utmost depth of its need and the loftiest height of its desire, and then made conscious that below its profoundest weakness and above its highest dream is the infinite Love that is educating its life. It is the best wisdom of history speaking to the highest interests of man. As mothers brought their children to Jesus that He might reveal the inmost meaning of childhood, open its treasure to the hearts that loved it, and by His consecrating touch assure it of perpetual increase; so are the nations bringing their religions to Him, and the noble among men their uncomprehended longing and hope. He walks among us still as the Revealer, the Conserver, and the Consummator of life. IV. Lastly, Christianity finds it own interpretation in God. We have seen man looking backward and finding the origin of his soul in the Soul that is behind nature. We have seen his religion telling him that he can not live by bread alone, that he can rest only under the shelter of the unseen, that he is infinitely more akin to the invisible than to the visible, that he has a spirit and must therefore hunger for the fellowship of the eternal Spirit. We see Christianity lifting this religious capacity to its highest, and bringing in the divine appeal in its sublimest form. We behold the earth transfigured in this Christian dream, the ladder set that reaches from the dreamer to heaven, and upon it, going up and coming down, the great prayers of the soul and the tender responses of the Most High. To what shall we refer this sublime, transfiguring dream? Is it the delusion of the sleeper, or the whisper of God? Is the ladder set up from the earth, or is it let down from above? Did man shape it out of his abysmal desire, or did God make and establish it out of His love. What can we say of that which is the highest wisdom, the widest sympathy, the divinest love, and the mightiest power in human history? What can we do with that which is the true life of man? Can the trees of the field, as they clap their hands and sing in the freshening breeze, do other than refer it to heaven? And man, as he sees the light of Christ upon the Spirit behind nature, beholds in the gospel that which interprets his highest dreams, feels in Christianity the power to understand and to become his own best self--can he do other than say that his Christian faith is the gift of God? The star in the brook refers you for the explanation of its being to the star in the sky; and the glory of the gospel living in the depths of man's soul has no other origin than the love of God. The hope of science lies in exploring the natural environment. All material reality is here, and here science has found all her truth, and every season reminds her that inexpressible wonders still wait her search. In the heavens above, and in the earth beneath, and in the waters under the earth are hidden the treasure for which she is to toil. Earth and sea and sky; the waveless depths and the windless heights, and the wide expanse between, now sunlit and again stormswept, are the field of her enterprise and hope. And in the same way the human environment is the region that the spirit must explore. The meaning of humanity must be found in and through humanity. "Say not in thy heart, Who shall ascend into heaven? that is, to bring Christ down; or who shall descend into the abyss? that is, to bring Christ up from the dead. The word is nigh thee, in thy mouth and in thy heart." The divine reality offers itself to faith in and through the scope and sweep of life. The order of God is in the life of society. The ideal for man, the method by which it is realized, and the power, are set in the spiritual tissues of the race. If you see no God, no soul, no genuine religion, believe rather that you are blind than that your human environment does not contain them. You are the product of nature. It follows that nature must be great enough to account for you and your race and the Christ who is your race at its best. Back of the nature that gave birth to you, that bore your kind, and brought forth Christ, there must be the sufficient Spirit. You are sure that you can not live by bread alone. You have thoughts that wander through eternity. You can not rest until you rest in God. You are a being made for religion, and again here is the gospel that meets your intelligence with its wisdom, your heart with its love, your will with its moral authority. Nothing puts your being in tune, and nothing rings out the best music that is in you, as the gospel does. It is omnipresent in our civilization, working everywhere to crush the beast and to free the man. It is in a mother's love, the soul of its tenderness; it is in a father's heart as ideal and incentive. The history and the experience and the hope of our homes are transfigured in its light, as if the earth should repose in an everlasting evening glow. Patriotism is alive with its fire, and the new and growing passion for humanity is the great token of its quickening spirit. It is the box of ointment, very precious, which has been broken in society and all Christendom is filled with its perfume. Birth and death, love and sorrow, achievement and failure, human life and its immemorial content, the old room and the dear and dreary things in it, take on new dignity and grace. To detect the new spirit in the old dwelling is the best and most rewarding of all intuitions. To live in the human homestead consecrated by the diffusion of Christ's gospel is to undergo an unconscious conformation to exalted ideals. Because of our Christian civilization, behind every morning is the Father, who makes His sun to shine upon the evil and the good, and who sends His rain upon the just and the unjust. Nature has been lifted into a servant of the divine beneficence. And man's wild but imperishable passion for the unseen has been brought to see its last and best self in the love of Christ. Wherever we look, this gospel is the master light of all our seeing; and once more, is it not light from heaven? We know where to look for the belt of Orion, and clear and grand as the stars that constitute it are the great saving truths which are set in the human sky. There is nothing arbitrary in this sublime faith, nothing that does not rise out of the human order, nothing that is a mere import from the world of fancy or wild belief. The faith is the translation of fact into thought and speech. The eyes of Christ pass over and through the order of the universe, and His vision is our faith. Man is the interpreter of nature; religion is the interpreter of man; Christianity is the interpreter of religion; and God the Father is the interpreter of Christianity. DAWSON CHRIST AMONG THE COMMON THINGS OF LIFE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE William James Dawson, Congregational preacher and evangelist, was born in Towcester, Northamptonshire, in 1854. He was educated at Kingswood School, Bath, and Didsbury College, Manchester. He has long been known as an author of originality and pure literary style. In 1906 he received the pastorate of Highbury Quadrant Congregational Church, London, and accepted an invitation to do general evangelistic work under the auspices of the National Council of the Congregational churches of the United States. He now resides in this country. DAWSON Born in 1854: CHRIST AMONG THE COMMON THINGS OF LIFE[1] [Footnote 1: Reprinted by kind permission of Messrs. Fleming H. Revell & Co., New York.] _As soon then as they were come to land they saw a fire of coals there, and fish laid thereon, and bread. Jesus saith unto them, Come and dine_.--John xxi., 9, 12. I can not read these words without indulging for a moment in a reminiscence. Not long ago, in the early morning, while all the world slept, I stood beside the Sea of Tiberias, just as the morning mist lifted, and watched a single brown-sailed fishing-boat making for the shore, and the tired fishermen dragging their net to land. In that moment it seemed to me as if more than the morning mist lifted--twenty centuries seemed to melt like mist, and the last chapter of St. John's gospel seemed to enact itself before my eyes. For so vivid was the sense of something familiar in the scene, so mystic was the hour, that I should scarce have been surprized had I seen a fire of coals burning on the shore, and heard the voice of Jesus inviting these tired fishermen to come and dine. Now if I felt that, if I was sensible of the haunting presence of Christ by that Galilean shore, how much more these disciples, in whose minds every aspect of the Galilean lake was connected with some intimate and thrilling memory of the ministry of Jesus. Christ once more stands among the common things of life; the fire, the fish, the bread--all common things; a group of tired, hungry fishers--all common men; and He is there to affirm that in His resurrection He had not broken His bond with men, but strengthened it--wherever common life goes on there is Jesus still. I. Notice the words with which the story opens, and you will see at once that this is the real clue to its interpretation. "When morning had now come, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples knew not that it was Jesus." A strange thing that! Why did they not know Him? Because they were not looking for Him in such a scene. It had seemed a natural thing, if Jesus should appear at all, that He should appear in the garden, a vision of life at the very altar of death. It seemed yet more probable and appropriate that He should appear in the upper room, that room made sacred by holiest love and memory. If any words of Christ yet lingered in the mind and had power to thrill them, they were surely these words, "Ye shall see the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven," glorified, triumphant, lifted far above the earth and its humble life. And so, if they were looking for Christ at all that morning, I think they watched the morning clouds, expecting Him to come down the resplendent staircase of the sunbeams to call the nations together and vindicate Himself in acts of universal judgment. And behold! Jesus comes as a fisherman standing on the lakeside, busy over a little fire, where the morning meal is cooking; and behold! Jesus speaks, and it is not of the eternal mysteries of God, not of the solemn secrets of the grave, but of nets and fishing and how to cast the nets--the simple concerns of simple men engaged in humble tasks. No wonder they did not recognize Him. Once more the Son of Man comes eating and drinking, and even the eyes that knew Him best can not see in this human figure by the lakeside the only begotten Son of the Father, full of grace and truth. They looked and saw but a fellow fisherman, cooking his meal upon the shore, and they knew not that it was Jesus. II. Think for a moment of the earthly life of Christ, and you will see that it was designedly linked with all the common and even the commonest things of life. If you or I could have conceived the great thought of some human creature that should be the very incarnation of God, what would have been the shape of our imaginings? Surely we should have chosen for this earthly temple of the Highest some human form perfected in grace and beauty by the long refinements of exalted ancestry; the child of kings or scholars; the delicate flower of life, in whom the elements were so subtly mixed that we should recognize them as special and miraculous--so we might think of God manifest in man. But God chooses for the habitation of His Spirit a peasant woman of Nazareth, humble, poor, unconsidered. If we could have forecast the training of such a life, how should we have pictured it? Surely as sheltered from the coarseness of the world, delicately nourished, sedulously cultured; but God orders that this life should manifest itself in the house of the village carpenter, out of reach of schools, in a little wicked town, under the commonest conditions of poverty, obscurity, and toil. If you and I could have imagined the introduction of this life of lives to the world, how should we picture that? Surely we should have pictured it coming with pomp and display that would at once have attracted all eyes; but God orders that it shall come without observation, unfolding its quiet beauty like the wayside flower, which there are few to see and very few to love. Commonness: that is the great note of the incarnation and the purposed feature of Christ's earthly life. He reaffirms His fraternity in common life. The disciples could not imagine that as possible; nor can we. And why not? For two reasons, one of which is that we have forgotten the dignity of common life. 1. Dignity is for us almost synonymous with some kind of separation from common life; it dwells in palaces, not in cottages; it inheres in culture, but is inconceivable in narrow knowledge; and to the great mass of men it is, alas! the attribute of wealth, of fine raiment, of social isolation. But we have not learned even the alphabet of Christ's gospel unless we have come to see that the only true _in_dignity in human life is sin, meanness, malevolence, and small-heartedness; and that all life is dignified where there are love, purity, and piety in it, whatever be its social category. I read the other day that it is probable that the very mire of the London streets contains that mysterious substance known as radium, the most tremendous agent of light and heat ever yet discovered by man; so in man himself, however low his state, there is the spark of God, an ember lit at the altar fires of the Eternal, and it is because we forget this that we forget the dignity of common life. For we do forget it. We may make our boast that a single human soul is of more value than all the splendors and immensities of matter; but in our actions we treat the boast as a mere rhetorical expression. There is nothing so cheap as men and women--let the lords of commerce answer if it be not so. But Christ acted as tho the boast were true. He deliberately inwove His life into all that is commonest in life. He has made it impossible for us, if indeed we have His spirit, to think of any salient aspect of human life without thinking of Him. Where childhood is, there is Bethlehem; where sorrow is, there is Gethsemane; where death is, there is Calvary; where the toiler is, there is the poor man of Nazareth; and where the beggar is, there is He who had no place where to lay His head. There is not a drop of blood of Christ, nor a throb of thought in our brains that is not thrilling with the impact of this divine life of lives. And so the true dignity of life is this, that Christ is in all men, faintly outlined it may be, defaced, half-obliterated, but there, and the Church that forgets this has neither impulse nor mandate for Christ's work among men. 2. And then, again, there is a second reason: we have not learned to look for Christ among the common things of life. "Let us build three tabernacles," said the wondering disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration, and the speech betrayed a tendency of thought which was in time to prove fatal to the Church. The Christ without a tabernacle, the free, familiar Christ of the lake or the wayside was everybody's Christ; but the moment Christ is shut up in a church or a tabernacle He becomes the priest's Christ, the thinker's Christ, the devotee's Christ, but He ceases to be the people's Christ. I remember five years ago standing in the great church of Assisi, which has been erected over and encloses the little humble chapel where Francis first received his call. You will scarcely be surprized if I confess that I turned with a sense of heart-sick indignation from the pomp of that splendid service in the gorgeous church to the thought of Francis, in his worn robe, going up and down these neighboring roads, touching the lepers, calling them "God's patients," pouring out his life for the poor; and I knew Christ nearer to me on the roads that Francis trod than in that church, which is his mausoleum rather than his monument. And as I felt that day in far-off Umbria, so I have felt to-day in England; my heart goes out to Catherine Booth; to Father Dolling, to these Christs of the wayside, and it turns more and more from the kind of Christ who lives in churches and nowhere else. My brethren, you will let me say that we do but make the church Christ's prison when we forget that all the realm of life is His. Oh, you good people, you do love your church, but often think and act as tho the presence of Christ can be found nowhere else. Lift up your eyes and see this risen Christ, a fisherman upon the shore, busy in no loftier task than to have a meal prepared for hungry fishermen. Unlock your church doors, let Christ go out among common people; nay, go yourselves, for it is here that He would have you be. Remember that wherever there is toil, there is the Christ who toiled; and there you should be, with the kind glance, the warm hand-grasp, and the loving warmth of brotherhood. Christ stands amid the common things of life; where the fire is lit, there is He; where the bread is broken, there is He; where the net of business gain is drawn, there is He; and only as we learn to see Him everywhere shall we understand the dignity and the divinity of human life. III. "And Jesus said unto them, Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find. They cast, and now they were not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes." Here is another strange thing. Christ knows more about the management of their own business than they do. They had toiled all night and caught nothing; is not that a significant description of many human lives? "Children, have ye any meat?" asks that quiet Voice from the shore, and they answer "No." Is not that yet more pathetically significant? All the heartbreak and disappointment of the world cry aloud in that confession. Oh, I could fill an hour with the mere recital of the names of great and famous people who have toiled through a long life, and as the last gray hour came over their dim sea of life, "brackish with the salt of human tears," have acknowledged with infinite bitterness that they have caught nothing. Listen to the voice of Goethe, "In all my seventy-five years I have not had four weeks of genuine well-being;" to the confession of our own famous poet, My life is in the yellow leaf, The flowers, the fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone. to the ambitious and successful statesman who says, "Youth is folly, manhood is struggle, old age regret"; to one of our most brilliant women of genius in our own generation, wife of a still more brilliant husband, who cries, "I married for ambition, and I am miserable." Surely there is some tragic mismanagement of the great business of living here. Oh, brother, is it true of you, that after all the painful years happiness is not yours? You have no meat, no food on which the heart feeds, no green pasture in the soul, no table in the wilderness, and the last gray day draws near and will find you still hungering for what life Has never given you. Learn, then, that Christ knows more about the proper management of your life than you do. "Cast your net on the right side of the ship," speaks that quiet Voice from the shore. And you know what happened. And it is so still. Just because Christ stands among the common things of life, He knows most about life, and, above all, He knows where the golden fruit of happiness is found and where the secret wells of peace. And to some of us whom God has called to be fishers of men the issue is yet more solemn. We have the boat and the nets, all this elaborate organization of the Church, but have we caught anything this year? Where is the draft of fishes? Where are the men and women saved by our triumphant effort? I will make my humble confession this morning, that for five-and-twenty years I have cast the net, but only lately have I found the right side of the ship; only lately have I discovered how easy it is to get the great draft of fishes by simply going to work in Christ's way. I do not believe in the indifference of the masses in religion; the indifference is not in the masses, but in the churches. You will never catch many fish if you stand upon the shore of cold respectability and wait for them to come; launch out into the deep and you will find them. Go for them--that is Christ's method. Compel them to come in, for remember Christ's ideal was, as Bishop Lightfoot so nobly put it, "the universal compulsion of the souls of men." And if your experience is like mine, you will find that there is strangely little compulsion needed to bring men and women to Christ. I stood but lately in a house where fifty fallen women lived; I went there to rescue three of its unhappy inmates. When the moment came to take these three women from their life of sin, their comrades lined the passage to shake my hand; there were tears and prayers, and messages like these, "Be good. You'll be a good woman," "We wish we had your chance"; and these poor souls in their inferno wished me "a happy New-year." Compulsion! There was small need for compulsion there! I believe I could have rescued all of these fifty women at one stroke had I known where to take them. But to the shame of the Free Churches in London I confess that, with the exception of the Wesleyans and the Salvation Army, I do not know a single Free Church Rescue Home in London. And I put it to you this morning whether you can any longer tolerate that omission? I ask you whether you really want a great draft of fishes, for you can have them if you want them. Christ knows the business better than you do; and if you will come out of the cloister of the church and seek the people in His spirit, I promise you that very soon you will not be able to drag the net for the multitude of fishes. IV. "And Jesus said unto them, Come and dine." Dine on what? Not the fish which they had caught. They had caught one hundred and fifty-three great fishes; but notice Christ's fire was kindled before they came. Christ's fish was already laid thereon, and all they had to do was to come and dine. It is all you have to do, all the churches have to do. Did not Christ so put it in the parable of the Great Supper?--"Come, for all things are ready." Is not the last word of Scripture the great invitation?--"The Spirit and the Bride say, Come, and whosoever will, let him come, and take of the water of life freely." Many a church can not say to a hungry world, "Come and dine," because it will not let Christ prepare the meal. It will not live in His spirit, it has no real faith in His gospel, it does not understand that its true strength is not in elaborate organization or worship, but in simple reliance on His grace. And so there is the table covered with elaborate confections, which are not bread, and when it says, "Come and dine," men will not come, for they know that there is nothing there for them. Let Christ prepare the meal and all is different then. When He says, "Come and dine," there is "enough for each, enough for all, enough for evermore." And as Jesus spoke, I think there flashed upon the memory of these men the scene when Jesus fed the five thousand, and by that memory they knew their Jesus. No one else ever spoke like that, with such certainty and such authority. And the same Voice speaks even now to your hunger-bitten soul, to your famished heart, "Come and dine." V. "Then Jesus taketh bread and giveth them, and fish likewise." There is no mistaking the act; it was a sacramental act. Here, upon the lake shore, without a church, without an altar, the true feast of the Lord was observed. For what does the Holy Supper, which is the bond and seal of the Church's fellowship, stand for, if it is not for this, the sanctification of the common life? Bread and wine, the commonest of all foods to an Oriental, are elements indeed, because they are necessary to the most elementary form of physical life, things used daily in the humblest home. By linking Himself imperishably with these commonest elements of life, Christ makes it impossible to forget Him. Once more the thought shines clear, Jesus among the common things of life. And then there comes one last touch in the beautiful story. While these things happened, the day was breaking. Is there one of us long tossed on sunless seas of doubt, long conscious of failure and disappointment in life? Are there those of us whose sorrow lies deeper than that which is personal--sorrow over our failure in Christ's work, pain over a life's ministry for Christ that has known no victorious evangel? Turn your eyes from that barren sea to Him who stands upon the shore; He shall yet make you a fisher of men. Turn your eyes from that bleak, dark sea of wasted effort where you have fared so ill; it is always dark till Jesus comes, it is always light when He has come. There is a new day breaking for the churches--a day of widespread evangelistic triumphs that shall eclipse all the greatest triumphs of the past, if we will but go back to Christ's school and learn of Him how to save the people. And to each of us He says to-day: "I am the living bread; I am the bread of life come down from heaven. If any man eat of this bread, he shall live forever." "Come and dine." Will you come? SMITH ASSURANCE IN GOD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE GEORGE ADAM SMITH, divine, educator and author, was born at Calcutta in 1856, and educated at New College, Edinburgh, Scotland. He is at present professor of Old Testament Language, Literature and Theology in the United Free Church College, Glasgow. He is author of "The Historical Geography of the Holy Land," "Jerusalem, the Topography, Economics and History from the Earliest Time to A.D. 70" (1908). He is generally regarded as one of the most gifted preachers of Scotland. SMITH Born in 1856 ASSURANCE IN GOD _Preserve me, O God._--Psalm xvi., 16. The psalmist lived in a period when belief in the reality of many gods was still strong, and when a man who would follow the one true God had to prefer to do so against the attractions of other deities and against the convictions of a great number of his fellow countrymen that these deities were living and powerful. That stage of religion is so distant from ourselves that we may imagine the psalmist's example to be of no practical value for our faith, yet in such an imagination we should be very much mistaken indeed, for, to begin with, consider how much you and I to-day owe to those believers who so many centuries ago rejected all the gods that offered themselves to the hearts of men except the true God, and who chose to cleave to Him alone with all that passionate loyalty which breathes through these verses. But for them you and I could not be standing where we are in religion to-day. As the eleventh of Hebrews reminds us, we are the spiritual heir of such believers. It is to their struggles and their faith and their victories that we greatly owe it that we have been born into an atmosphere in which no religious belief is possible to us save in one God who is Spirit and Righteousness and all Truth. That, then, was the great choice that the psalmist's faith was turning to--a choice that was no mere assent to a creed that had been fought for and established by previous generations of believers. It was the man's own proving of things unseen and his own preference of those against the crowd and a system of things seen, palpable, and very powerful in their attraction for the senses of humanity. But we are not to suppose that the rival deities, from which this man turned to the unseen God, were to his mind or to the mind of his day the heap of dead and ugly idols which we know them to be. They were not dead things that he could kick away with his feet that these believers had to reject when they sought the living God, but things which he and his contemporaries felt to be alive and powerful; powerful alike in their seduction and in their vengeance. They were believed to be identical, as you know, with the forces of nature; they were supposed to be indispensable to the welfare of the individual and of society, and they were fanatically supported at the time by the mass of this man's own countrymen; so that to break from them in those days meant to abandon ancient opinions and habits, to resist many pleasant and natural temptations and to incur the hostility, as was believed, of the powers of nature, to break with customs and with rites that had fortified and consoled the individual heart for generations and been the support and sanction of society and of the state as well. Yet this man did it. From all that living crowd and system, from all those visible temptations and terrors he turned to the unseen, fully conscious of his danger, for he opens his Psalm with a great cry, "Preserve me, preserve me, O God!" but yet deliberately, and with all his heart: "I have said unto the Lord, Thou art my Lord." I have no goodness, no happiness, that is outside Thee or outside the saints that are in the land, "the excellent in whom is all my delight." Here we touch another great characteristic of all true faith which is full of example to ourselves. It is remarkable how, when a man really turns to God, he turns to God's people as well, and how he includes them in the loyalty and in the devotion which he feels toward his Redeemer. His confidence and the sensitiveness of his faith in and toward God become almost an equal confidence and an equal sensitiveness toward his fellow believers. So it is throughout Scripture; you remember that other psalmist who tells us how he had been tempted to doubt God's providence and God's power to help the good man--"does God know and is there knowledge in the Most High? Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain and washed my hands in innocency." The psalmist immediately adds: "If I had spoken thus, behold I had dealt treacherously with the generation of God's children." If I had spoken thus, denying God, I had dealt treacherously with the generation of God's children. Unbelief toward God meant to him treason toward God's people; and the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews affirms the same double character of true faith when he emphasizes just these two points in the faith of Moses: "choosing to suffer affliction with the people of God," and "enduring as seeing Him who is invisible," and God Himself through Jesus Christ has accepted this partnership of His people in our loyalty--"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren ye have done it unto me." I do not believe in the full faith of any man who does not extend the loyalty he professes to God to God's people as well, who does not feel as sensitive to his brethren on earth as he does to his Father in heaven, who does not practise piety toward the Church as he does toward her Head, or find in her fellowship and her service a joy and a gladness which is one with his deep joy in God, his Redeemer. Nay, is it not just in loving people who are still imperfect, often disappointing, and far from their ideal it may be, that in our relations to them we are to find the greater proof and test of our religious faith? In these days such a duty is unfortunately more complicated than with the psalmist. The lines between God's Church and the world is not so clear as it was to him, and the Church is divided into many and often hostile factions. All the more it becomes the test of our religion if our hearts feel and rejoice in the fellowship of God's simpler and more needy and more devoted believers, however unattractive they may otherwise be. Consider the way in which the psalmist reached this pure faith in God and in His people. A factor in the process was distaste for the ugly rites of idolatry--"Their drink-offerings of blood will I not offer." Idolatry always develops a loathsome ritual. Sometimes it is cruel and sometimes it is horribly unclean, but it always debases the worshiper's mind, confuses his conscience, and hampers his freedom and energy by the burdensome ceremonies it imposes upon them. Standing afar off from them as we do, and knowing that there is no heathen religion but has something good in it, we are apt to think that it does not in the least matter how crude or how material a nation's faith be if only it be faith in something more powerful than themselves, if it satisfy their consciences and have some influence in disciplining society and helping the individual to control himself. But you have only to see idolatry at work, and at work with the habits of ages upon it, to recognize how terrible it can be in its identification of sheer filth and cruelty with the interests of religion, and how it at once demoralizes and paralyzes its adherents. To see it thus is to understand the passionate horror of these words: "Their drink-offering of blood will I not offer." It is, however, no mere recoil from the immoral which started the spring of this psalmists's faith in God. That faith was formed on personal experience of God Himself. In simple but pregnant phrases the psalmist tells us how sure he has become, first, of God's providence in his life; secondly, of God's intimate communion with his soul. God, he says, had been everything in his life. One does not know whether the psalmist was a prosperous man or a poor one; the inference that he was prosperous and rich has sometimes been drawn, but wrongly drawn, from one of the verses of the Psalm. His indifference to that is clear, but what he did have he knew he had from God. God, he says, is all his happiness and all his strength--"The Lord is the portion of mine inheritance and of my cup; thou maintainest my lot." Whether poor or prosperous he could say: "The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage." Now that assurance of divine leading is not analyzable, but we know that it does grow up solid and sure in the experience of simple men who have put their trust in God, who have felt life to be a commission from Him and who have done their duty obeying His call. With such men "all things work together for good." Tho life about them shake and darken, they feel their own solidity and have light enough to read the future. Tho stript and stark, they feel the Lord Himself to be the portion of their inheritance and of their cup. The portion of my inheritance the Lord is, i.e., the little bit of land that fell to each Israelite as his share in the promised inheritance of the nation. "The Lord is the portion of mine inheritance," as we might say in our Scotch language, "The Lord is my croft and my cup," so they find in Him all the ground and the freedom they need to do their work, fulfil their relationships, and develop their manhood. It is, however, with the psalmist's second reason for his faith we have most to do. "I will bless the Lord, who hath given me counsel: my reins also instruct me in the night seasons." This man held close communion with God. Is it not great to find the testimony of a brother man coming down all through those ages, from that dim and distant past, clear and sure as to this, that he had God's counsel and that God kept communion with him? God had spoken to this man and shown him His will. Yes, he had received what we call inspiration and revelation, and had proved the truth of these in his life. They had led and they had lifted him. Nor had they come to him as many men falsely suppose revelation and inspiration exclusively have come to mankind, by means, namely, that were extraordinary and miraculous. The psalmist tells us of no vision of angels, of no voice from heaven. The Lord had not appeared to him in dreams nor by any marvelous signs; on the other hand, he tells us simply that the divine counsel of which he was so sure, and which he passes on to us, came to him through the workings of his inner spiritual life. That is what he means by the emphatic statement "yea, my reins instruct me in the night seasons," which he adds parallel with the thought, "I will bless the Lord, who hath given me counsel." According to the primitive physiology of this man's nation and times, the reins of a man fulfil the same intellectual function which we, with our larger knowledge, know are discharged by the brain. This was how God's revelation came to this brother of ours, through the working of his mind and conscience, but it was in the night seasons that they worked, not in the day and in the sunshine, but in the night when a man is left to himself with only this advantage to his thought: that like the blind he is yet undistracted by the influences which are seen. When he lies down he thinks soberly and quietly about himself and about life and about God, and about the great hidden future that is waiting for him. He was communing with God, who had made his brain and used it as an instrument of revelation. In these thoughts God was communing with man through his reason and through his conscience. You and I are always contrasting God's providence and His grace. We are always attempting to oppose reason and revelation; to this man they were one. God's great grace had come to him through God's own providence, and God's revelation was ministered to him through the reason with which he had endowed the creature He had made in His own image. This psalmist's chief and practical help to us men and women today is that he became sure of God not because of any miracle or supernatural sign, on his report of which we might be content indolently to rest our faith, but in God's own providence in his life and in God's quiet communion with him through the organs God Himself has created in every one of us. For all time, whether before or after Christ, these are the chief grounds and foundations of faith in God. So it was in the Old Testament--"stand in awe and sin not," "commune with your own heart upon your bed and be still," "be still and know that I am God." So with Christ, "for the kingdom of heaven cometh not with observation, but the kingdom of heaven is within you," and so with Paul, "the Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God, and if children then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ." "For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, ... that he would grant you according to the riches of his glory to be strengthened with might by his spirit in the inner man; that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith, to the end that ye being rooted and grounded in love may come to apprehend with all saints what is the breadth and length and depth and height and to know the love of Christ." God's guidance of his life, first of all, produces in a man a great sense of stability. "I have set the Lord always before me: because he is at my right hand I shall not be moved." He who has found God so careful of him, he whom God hath regarded as worth speaking to and counseling and disciplining, will be certain that he shall endure, provided he is sure of his own loyalty. The life so loved of God, so provided for, and in such close communion with the Eternal is not, can not be the creature of the day, and this assurance stands firm in face of even death and the horrible corruption of the body. The psalmist refuses to believe that he is to dwell in the horrible under-world forever--either himself or any of God's believers. "Thou must not, thou wilt not leave my soul in sheol, thou must not, thou wilt not suffer thy loved ones to see the pit." To this man it is incredible, and our hearts bear witness to the truth if we have had any experience of God's blessing and guidance. To this man it is incredible that the life God has cared for and guided and spoken to and brought into such intimate communion with himself can find its end in death. Those whom God has loyally loved and who have loyally loved God--for this word badly translated "holy" in the psalms really has that actual significance--those whom God has loyally loved and who have loyally loved God shall never die. As He lives so shall they; they shall never be absent from His presence. Be the future unknown and unknowable, be we ourselves incapable of conceiving the processes by which this mortal shall put on immortality, or where heaven is, or what eternity can possibly be to those who have never lived outside time, yet that future is secure and its immortal character is indubitable--where God is there shall His servants be, and because He is there their life shall be peace and joy, and because He is eternal it shall last forevermore. That thought is the whole of the hope and argument. We are assured of the future life because we have known God, and as we have found Him to be true to us and proved ourselves true to Him. GUNSAULUS THE BIBLE VS. INFIDELITY BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Frank Wakely Gunsaulus was born at Chesterville, Ohio, in 1856. He graduated from Ohio Wesleyan University in 1875. For some years he was pastor of Plymouth Church, Chicago, and since 1899 pastor of Central Church, Chicago. He is also president of the Armour Institute of Technology. He is a fascinating speaker, having a clear, resonant voice, and a dignified presence. His mind is a storehouse of the best literature, and his English style is noteworthy for its purity and richness. He is the author of several books and is in popular demand as a lecturer. GUNSAULUS Born in 1856 THE BIBLE VS. INFIDELITY[1] [Footnote 1: Preached as an impromptu reply to R.G. Ingersoll. Printed from an unrevised stenographic report.] _There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of them is without signification_.--I Cor. xiv., 10. Ours is a voiceful era. Perhaps, as the ages come and go and man's life grows richer, its questions more restless for answer, its moral supports called upon to bear heavier interests of faith, its enterprises more often and searchingly compelled to defend themselves, the voices of time will be increasingly potent and worthy of his attention. A singularly suggestive collection of messages fills the air today, and all of these voices speak of one theme--the Bible. Anarchy, which is always atheistic, holds its converse in the places of evil which this book's message would close forever; the foes of that civilization builded on its laws and stimulated by its hopes asks us to condemn it as worthy only of caricature, vituperation, and hate. Let us find a path of duty today, not refusing to listen to any of these voices, but asking that other voices also may help us to the truth. The preacher's message is a book called the Bible. That is only the literary form of his message--telling its history. Even that form, which is much less divine as paper and ink are less lofty in the scale than humanity, has worked wonders. To-day, the Bible offers the nineteenth-century infidel as testimony of the influence it has. It has force enough to make infidelity preach tearfully and well about man, woman, and child. Skepticism did not do so well until the Bible came. The Bible has furnished the eloquence of infidelity with such a man as Shakespeare to talk about; no student of literature could imagine Shakespeare without the Bible and the Bible's influence upon him as he created his dreams. It furnished an Abraham Lincoln for an orator to compare favorably with incomplete ideas of Almighty God; but it seems to have been unable to show the critic that Christian ideas of Almighty God made Lincoln so love the Lord's Prayer that he wanted a church builded with this as its creed. It would seem that any general denunciation or humorous caricature of a book which has worked such an amazing effect in literature as has the Bible would be tempered by some recognition of the fact that these other minds--poets, orators, sages, and scientists--have found illumination and help in its pages. Liberal Christianity will be intellectually broad. Certainly the greatest of modern pagans, Goethe, will not be accused of favoritism toward the Bible, yet he said: "I esteem the gospels to be thoroughly genuine, for there shines forth from them the reflected splendor of a sublimity, proceeding from the person of Jesus Christ, of so divine a kind as only the divine could ever have manifested upon earth." The Earl of Rochester saw that the only liberalism which objects to the Bible, in its true uses, is the liberalism of licentiousness; and he left this saying: "A bad heart is the great argument against this holy book." And Faraday, weeping, said: "Why will people go astray when they have this blest book to guide them?" If we turn to literature we encounter many such liberal thinkers as Theodore Parker, who calmly informs us: "This collection of books has taken such a hold upon the world as has no other. The literature of Greece, which goes up like incense from that land of temples and heroic deeds, has not half the influence of this book. It goes equally to the cottage of the plain man and the palace of the king. It is woven into the literature of the scholar and colors the talk of the street." That is the voice of the liberalism which includes rather than excludes. These were men not of the band of evangelical Christian preachers, who are roughly classed as a set of persons unable to tell the truth about the Bible, for fear they may lose their means of subsistence; these are men who know the true mission of the Bible. It is not to furnish a picture of life in the time of Moses such as life ought to be, a portrait of a David for the imitation of men, a statue of a warrior in a time of barbarism who shall command my obedience to his commands now, an idea of God wrought out in ignorance and darkness, which has no self-development within it. The mission of the Bible is to furnish a humanly written account of a people, just as human as we, in whom, by divine inspiration, the soul of truth so lived and worked as to develop, in gradual course, by laws, by hopes, by loves, by life, a living, and, at last, perfectly authoritative ideal of righteousness, but more than all a gradual growth of such moral power as would be commanding in the redeeming self-sacrifice and love of Jesus Christ. Every page of the Old Testament was only preparatory, as the thorny bush is preparatory for the rose. Christ is the end of the long, weary human history that leads to Him. If the laws of Sinai had been enough, there never would have been a Calvary. No one for a moment dreams that the God of nature could have brought forth such a fruit as the life and ideas of Jesus without a tree of such a history, a tree rooted in the ground, storm-twisted, gnarled, and valuable only for its fruit. We are not asked to eat the roots and bark and branches; only the fruit has an appeal to us. Its appeal is to our hunger, its authority lies in the fact that it satisfies our hunger. It has satisfied the hunger of men whose liberalism came from their being made liberally. Large and capacious souls of mighty yearnings are they. They stand in contrast with the puny critics who assert that the Bible fails to feed them, because they have never tasted its nourishment. Liberal Christianity, separating itself from the dogmatism which would make Christianity a book religion, worshiping a literary idol rather than loving a human revelation of the divine, knows it is not an ignorant lot of men and women who have received most from the Bible and spoken most gratefully of its message. When we think of sending the Bible to barbarism, with the hope of creating in its stead civilization, we can look into the face of John Selden, one of the most illustrious of English lawyers, when he says: "I have surveyed most of the learning that is among the sons of men, yet at this moment I can recall nothing in them on which to rest my soul, save one from the sacred Scriptures, which rises much on my mind. It is this: 'The grace of God, which bringeth salvation, hath appeared unto all men, teaching us that denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world, looking for that blest hope and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us that he might redeem us unto himself, a peculiar people zealous of good works.'" Liberal religion must include Selden. We will not be deterred from giving the Bible to heathenism of any kind when we remember that Sir William Jones has left these words: "The Scriptures contain more true sublimity, more exquisite beauty, and finer strains of poetry and eloquence than could be collected from all other books that were ever composed in any age or in any idiom." Liberal religion must be as broad as Sir William Jones. This is a very needy world, and many are the institutions of evil that need to be changed for institutions of goodness. If we are to believe the eloquence of hopeless unbelief, we ourselves will only be the slaves of a fatalism which says that man is but a result of forces; that what we call crime is but a part of the necessary course of things, and that there is no such thing as moral responsibility. This makes all reform or efforts at staying the tide of evil useless. Oftentimes the heart of the man who has ceased to read his Bible gets the victory over this dreadful philosophy, and it is not remarkable that the skeptic becomes the exponent of freedom, charging like a host of war upon all institutions of slavery. Liberal theology puts its one hand on the dogmatist who tells him to accept literal infallibility, and its other on the sincere lover of men who has lost his Bible entirely. And liberalism says: It is in just such moments that we trust our Bible the most, and we remember that William Wilberforce, who lifted the chains from the bondmen, has said: "I never knew happiness until I found Christ as a Savior. Read the Bible! Bead the Bible! Through all my perplexities and distresses I never read any other book, I never knew the want of any other." We are certainly not despising the science which is worthy of a name, nor are we forgetting any proposition which has found a place in the world's thought, if we look into the face of Sir John Herschel, who tells us that "all human discoveries seem to be made only for the purpose of confirming more and more strongly the truths contained in the holy Scriptures." It is truly no part of wisdom for us to conclude that for scientific reasons we ought to forsake our Bible when Professor Dana avers: "The grand old book of God still stands; and this old earth, the more its leaves are turned and pondered, the more will it sustain and illustrate the sacred Word." Surely it is not the hour dogmatically to withdraw this book, which has proved the basis of civilization. Professor Lyell, the great English geologist, tells us: "In the year 1806 the French Institute enumerated no less than eighty geological theories which were hostile to the Scriptures, but not one of these theories is held today." Bacon's remark is still true: "There never was found in any age of the world either religion or law that did so highly exalt the public good as the Bible." And John Marshall and Prince Bismarck agree with Daniel Webster when he says: "If we abide by the principles taught in the Bible our country will go on prospering and to prosper; but if we and our posterity neglect its instructions and authority no man can tell how sudden a catastrophe may overwhelm us and bury all our glory in profound obscurity." There is not an anarchist in America who does not clap his hands when he hears a Bible with the Ten Commandments and the Sermon on the Mount denounced. Indeed, the civilization in which we stand, as compared with the barbarism out of which we have been led by the Bible, would make William Henry Seward's assertion only a mild statement of the truth when he says: "The whole hope of human progress is suspended on the ever-growing influence of the Bible." I prefer lawyers like these to lead American public opinion. Part of the service of these men has been that they have shown theology that the Bible is not a set of texts on a dead level of authority and equal value, but the revealing, slow and sure, of an inspiration obeyed by a certain people in the realm of morals like that inspiration obeyed by another people in the realm of art, and its test is: Does the Bible's ultimate message, its crowning commandment of Christ's life and love, produce goodness in morals? just as the test of the long revelation of beauty in his ancestors and the Greek is, does its ultimate commandment produce goodness in art. Christianity does not ask: "What think ye of the Bible?" It asks: "What think ye of Christ?" There the throne is set, and so majestic is His glory that the moment we come into His presence we are judged. The Judge of the earth has taken His place in thought, history and hope. He is not on trial, and He asks no question as to what man thinks of the book which has enthroned Him in literature. The test is placed in my conduct and yours; each may say with Michael Bruce, who left these words on the fly-leaf of his Bible: 'Tis very vain of me to boast How small a price this Bible cost; The day of judgment will make clear 'Twas very cheap or very dear. Shall we go forward with our Bible or backward without it? Infidelity has always forgotten that, so far as it has an eye for liberty and humanity, the Christianity not of sects but of the Bible has furnished it and trained it. The liberalism which puts its Bible aside will acknowledge that a Christless humanity culminated in Rome. Skepticism is often eloquent when it tries to show how much "fragments of Roman art" had to do with the making of modern civilization. Now, as Rome marks the height to which humanity without a Bible ascended, it would seem that this would be just the point where free and untrammeled thought and the fullest intellectual liberty would be found. Right there, where a Christless race was supreme, ought to be the place where the liberty abounded which the religion of Christ is said to destroy. Whose program for the production of intellectual and spiritual liberty can liberals accept? Hoarse is the cry: The Bible is to be cast out. We look and behold men who have these opinions sitting on the throne of the Caesars. Now, one would suppose the intellect of that whole realm would have fair play. There was no Bible there to fetter or to annoy. This ought to be the halcyon age for "the liberty of man, woman and child." These rulers have the same dignified abhorrence for all kinds of religion. The skeptic Lucretius says: "The fear of the lower world must be sent headlong forth. It poisons life to its lowest depths; it spreads over all things the blackness of death; it leaves no pleasure unalloyed." I match the Roman with the phrase of a recent orator of this school who spoke of the soldiers dead, as now "sleeping beneath the shadows of the clouds, careless alike of sunshine or of storm, each in the windowless palace of rest." There was no window in the grave when more illustrious and original skeptics talked about it. Modern infidelity has many expressions on the future after death which sound like the old Roman distich, "I was not, and became; I was, and am no more." Its orator, bending over the body of his dear brother, said nothing more touching than did Tacitus over the grave of Agricola, as he wrote: "If there is a place for the spirits of the pious; if, as the wise suppose, great souls do not become extinct with their bodies; if"--oh, that age of "if" ought to have been an age when every brain was free and no thought or sentiment were a chain. The Bible of Christianity was not powerful enough to throttle anybody. Its pages were not all written; its authors were hunted and outcast. Morals, too, ought to have been all right, for we are told that they are independent of God and Christ. But what is the fact? Strangely enough, in that age, when nearly every monarch, or poet, or philosopher was a humorous skeptic and they had no Christian religion to "bind their hands," in an age when nothing but this sort of infidelity was supreme, Seneca, to whom connoisseurs in ethics blandly turn when they grow weary of the strenuous Paul or the pensive John, Seneca, while he wrote a book on poverty, has a fortune of $15,000,000, with a house full of citrus tables made of veined wood brought from Mount Atlas. While he framed moral precepts which we are besought to substitute for the Sermon on the Mount, he was openly accused of constant and shameless iniquity, and was leading his distinguished and tender pupil, Nero, into those practises and preparing him for those atrocities which Seneca himself had upon his own soul while he wrote his book on clemency. At that hour the Bible Christianity offered to the world's heart and aspiration, not a book, not a theorist of morals, but a man for the leadership of humanity, and, of that Man the literary and calm French skeptic says: "Jesus will never be surpassed." In the age of Rome, when people were not burdened by churches or Bibles, Lucian says: "If any one loves wealth and is dazed by gold; if any one measures happiness by purple and power; if any one brought up among flatterers and slaves has never had a conception of liberty, frankness and truth; if any one has wholly surrendered himself to pleasure, full tables, carousals, lewdness, sorcery, and deceit, let him go to Rome." There was no Bible either to preach against it or to interfere with it. These things were the product then, as they are now, of infidelity. Whenever the world wishes a civilization so barbarous as that, the reviler of the Bible must create it, for they have the applause of evil and the good-will of crime. In the age of Rome, when this skepticism was the creed of the State, Nero got tired of the goddess Astarte, and murdered his own brother, his wife, and his mother, and the senate was so affected with the same opinion that they heard his justification and proceeded to heap new honors upon him. He threw the preacher Paul into jail, but there Paul wrought out the impulse of Europe. In the age when the great Livy said that "neglect of gods" had come, Caligula let loose his imperial frenzy, and every stream of blood that could be sent toward the sea carried its red tide. In that age when, like later eloquent critics, Ennius said that he did not believe that the gods thought of human beings, "for if the gods concerned themselves about the human race the good would prosper and the bad suffer," the courtesan was kept for pleasure and the wife for domestic slavery. In that happy age of unbelief, when Menander sung "the gods do not care for men," "the homes were," according to Juvenal, "broken up before the nuptial garland faded"; and according to Tertullian, "they married only to be divorced." Friends exchanged wives; infanticide and other hellish crimes were common. This is what that spirit, in its purity, did for the home, when there was no Bible to read at its hearthstone and no New Testament to put into the hands of young lovers departing to make a new rooftree. Labor will some day be too liberal to give up its Bible. In that age, when "God was dead"; in that age, when "the gods had abdicated"; they said, "the mechanic's occupation is degrading. A workshop is incompatible with anything noble." The curse of slavery had blotted the name of labor, and they agreed that "a purchased laborer is better than a hired one," and thousands of prison-like dwellings rose to conceal the myriads of slaves. In that age Nero, who had the same opinion about God which the vaunting spirit which calls itself liberal has today, had a "golden house" as large as a city, with colonnades a mile long, and within it a statue of Nero 120 feet high. That is what the theory of infidelity did for labor and the working man when it was on the throne. Do you wonder that from that day to this the "carpenter's son" of the Bible has been scoffed at by this infidelity? In that age, when the theories of infidelity ruled, the gladiators made wet with their blood the great enclosure of the arena. The women and timid girls of Rome gave lightly the sign of death. The crowd shook the building with applause as the palpitating body was dragged by a hook into the death-chamber, and slaves turned up the bloody soil and covered the blood-dabbled earth with sand that the awful amusement might go on. All this was allowed by infidelity in its purity, before it had been influenced by the Christian's Bible into believing that such things are atrocious. Oh, when I hear infidelity prate of the horrors of slavery and defend a Godless theory of the State, I remember that those who had it in its purity did not regard the slave as a man. When I read the story of slavery and hear an exponent of free thought say, "The doctrine that woman is a slave or serf of man--whether it comes from hell or heaven, from God or demon, from the golden streets of the New Jerusalem, or the very Sodom of perdition--is savagery pure and simple," I say, "That is so, but just that was the ruling idea when infidelity was on the throne of Rome." And only where the Bible has gone and triumphed has woman the privileges which are thus praised. When I hear it said: "Slavery includes all other crimes. It is the joint product of the kidnaper, pirate, thief, murderer, and hypocrite. It degrades labor and corrupts leisure. To lacerate the naked back, to sell wives, to steal babes, to debauch your soul--this is slavery," I answer: "That is so," and I add that all these and a thousand other damnable features of slavery were seen in Rome when the whole Roman people felt and spoke about the message of the Bible just as your type of liberalism does today. To all this wretched state of man what offers came from Seneca, whom skepticism quotes as a moralist? Why, he said: "Admire only thyself"; and when he saw that a man must get out of himself, he said: "Give thyself to philosophy." Not philosophy, but the power of the Bible's Christ has lifted man upward to his highest life. If ever anti-Christianity had a chance to show its beauty, it was when it was at its supreme strength, and when Christianity was a babe in the manger; and these are only suggestions of the hell it dug for man at Rome. You say that it was not what skepticism is at the present day, and I acknowledge that it is so. Why? Because nineteen centuries have rolled like waves of light between, and Christ has improved it in spite of itself. Never had the world so good a chance to see what almost absolute skepticism and unbelief could and would do for the liberty of the human soul as then. But when the thrones of Rome were occupied with men who held the same opinion of the Bible as he does today, what was the freedom of the race? The scene all comes back. Here is a little, obscure set of poor people who follow the words and life of the son of a carpenter. They are powerful in nothing that Rome calls power. But Rome says that they shall not think that way. Celsus, from whom our less scholarly skepticism is ready to borrow arguments, was not enough for the new thought in the arena of debate, and they cried for another arena. Let us remember that unbelief, in its purity at that date, was so offended at nothing as at the fact that the Church said: "Christian justice makes all equal who bear the name of man," and that Paul said: "There is neither bond nor free, but ye are all one in Christ Jesus." Nothing so offended the representative of free thought in that period as the fact that a rich Roman, in the time of Trajan, having become a Christian, presented freedom to his 1,250 slaves on an Easter day. And, in all that time, when poor Christians with the funds of the Church were privately buying the freedom of slaves, I do not find that a base liberalism believed in liberty. Neither did it believe in freedom of thought. It is the blossom of egotism; it has nothing to which it bows; it beholds no majesty to which it can look up. It is sublime self-conceit, and it has no hesitancy in telling the whole human race that at its grandest moments it has been wrong. This egotism dared to become active in Rome, and it asked the Christians, in the person of the Emperor, to worship him, and to strew incense about him. "I will honor the Emperor," said Theophilus, "not by worshiping him, but by praying for him." Such men as that infidelity kindly put to death. Around their quivering limbs the infidelity of that day made the fagots to flame, and it taught the red tongues of cruel death to creep about their smoking bodies. Men who believed that the Bible's influence was what infidelity says it is, made the funeral pyre for Polycarp, the populace bringing fuel for the fire, and while the flames made a glory of their lambent glare, he cried out: "Six and eighty years have I served him and he has done me nothing but good, and how could I curse him, my Lord and Savior. If you would know what I am, I tell you frankly, I am a Christian." He did his own thinking, and was brave enough to avow his opinion, for which hate of Christianity duly burned him. This was the way infidelity treated free speech. In that way it unchained the soul of Polycarp. Infidelity's idea of Christianity sent the martyrs of Numidia and Paulus out of the world while they were praying for their murderers. Who believed in freedom then? Infidelity's idea of the message of the Bible followed the Christian like a wild beast, and in the catacomb of Calixtus drew from the pursued soul the pathetic exclamation: "Oh, sorrowful times, when we can not even in caves escape our foes!" And all this was true, because they said, "Recompense to no man evil for evil"; "Pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you." This spirit of hate has had at least one holiday at the expense of Christian faith. On the night of the 18th of July, 64, Rome was swept with fire. Six days and nights it raged. Ruined was the world's metropolis and excited were the wo-stricken people. Nero, whose opinions of Christianity, by the way, were wonderfully like the orator's, was king, and the people suspected that this royal monster did it. Men told of how he exulted over the sea of flame as he watched it from the tower of Maecenas; and whatever the truth of this may be, it is certain that for the rage of the people Nero must have a victim, and Tacitus tells us that he charged the Christians with the crime. Then opened in Rome the awful carnival of bloodshed that the orator never mentions, in which horrible modes of torture and excruciating methods of producing pain vied with each other in satisfying the demands of death. Women bound to raging bulls and dragged to death were not without the companionship of others who, in the evening, in Nero's garden, were coated with pitch, covered with tar, bound to stakes of pine, lighted with fire, and sent to run aflame with the hatred of Christianity. Through the crowd of sufferers a gentleman, who was ultra-liberal as the orator, drove about, fantastically attired as a charioteer, and the people were wild with delight. Domitian had the same ideas, and severe were his persecutions of the new heresy. This was the day on which infidelity was so full of the love of freedom that it cried: "The Christians to the lions!" And so I might recount to you how for hundreds of years the Church found out how early and unchristianized infidelity loved freedom of thought. To a type of liberals, it has for years seemed a joy to go to the places in the old world and note how intolerant the Church has been. Now I suggest to any one that he go and visit some of the places where men who thought of Christianity as negativism thinks showed their faith and its fruits. Let him go to the Colosseum and ask the winds that moan over its ruins what they know of the history of infidelity. The winds will hush in that wreck of stupendous magnificence, and with an eloquence gathered from seventeen centuries they will tell him a story that will cause a flow of tears, for much of infidelity is of noble heart. They will tell him how the marble seats were crowded with thousands; again will sweep upward the shout of the excited throng; before him there will lie a half-dead Christian martyr, and near that pool of blood will stand a lion who has satiated his horrid thirst. They will tell him how infidelity made that splendid place a temple of the furies, how it laughed and yelled and applauded, as it amused itself with that spectacle of horror. They will tell him how the underground passages served to keep and cage wild beasts, and how those who then hated Christianity starved the fierce lion until his eyes rolled in hot hunger and his teeth were sharpened with its agony. They will tell him how the infidelity of that day put balls of fire on the backs of the lions, and how the madness of their passion was increased by scattering hated colors about, tearing the beasts with iron hooks and beating them with cruel whips. They will tell how the Christian was made to fight these infuriated beasts without weapons, while infidelity was frantic with applause. It said "no" to the torn body yonder, that was mangled and supplicating in blood for life. I would have him stand there until, in after years, in a nobler strain than that of Byron, he could say: And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon All this, and cast a wide and tender light, Which softened down the hoar austerity Of rugged desolation. * * * * * Till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old! The dead but sceptered sovereigns who still rule Our spirits from their urns. So long as I know what this book has been and done, so long as man's history will not allow me to risk the interests of society with the infidelity which has so often demoralized it, so long will I yearn to get the Bible and its message to all men. It has been our world's best book. With this book as inspiration and resource, William Tyndale and Miles Coverdale were so to continue and complete the task of The Venerable Bede and John Wyclif as to make an epoch in the history of that language to be used by Shakespeare and Burke--an era as distinct as that which Luther's Bible so soon should mark in the history of a language to be such a potent instrument in the hands of Goethe and Hegel. For this very act of heresy, Tyndale was to be called "a full-grown Wyclif," and Luther "the redeemer of his mother-tongue." With the Bible, Calvin was to conceive republics at Geneva, and Holbein to paint, in spite of the iconoclasm of the Reformation, the faces of Holy Mother and Saint, and in spite of the cruelty of the Church, scripturally conceived satires illustrating the sale of indulgences. With that book Gustavus Vasa was to protect and nurture the freedom of the land of flowing splendors, while Angelo was transcribing sacred scenes upon the Sistine vault or fixing them in stone. Reading this book, More was to die with a smile; Latimer, Cranmer, and Ridley to perish while illuminating with living torches, and the Anabaptist to arouse the sympathies of Christendom by his agonies. With this book in hand, Shakespeare was to write his plays; Raleigh was to die, knight, discoverer, thinker, statesman, martyr; Bacon to lay the foundation of modern scientific research--three stars in the majestic constellation about Henry's daughter. With this Bible open before them the English nation would behold the Spanish Armada dashed to pieces upon the rocks, while Edmund Spenser mingled his delicious notes with the tumult of that awful wreck. This book was to produce the edict of Nantes, while John of Barneveld would give new life to the command of William the Silent--"Level the dikes; give Holland back to the ocean, if need be," thus making preparation for the visit of the Mayflower pilgrims to Leyden or Delfthaven. Their eyes resting upon its pages, Selden and Pym were to go to prison, while Grotius dreamed of the rights of man in peace and war, and Guido and Rubens were painting the joys of the manger or the sorrows of Calvary. His hand resting upon this book, Oliver Cromwell would consolidate the hopes and convictions of Puritanism into a sword which should conquer at Nasby, Marston Moor and Dunbar, leave to the throne of Charles I, a headless corpse, and create, if only for an hour's prophecy, a commonwealth of unbending righteousness. With that volume in their homes, the Swede and the Huguenot, the Scotch-Irishman and the Quaker, the Dutchman and the freedom-loving cavalier, were to plan pilgrimages to the West, and establish new homes in America. With that book in the cabin of the _Mayflower_, venerated and obeyed by sea-tossed exiles, was to be born a compact from which should spring a constitution and a government for the life of which all these nationalities should willingly bleed and struggle, under a conqueror who should rise from the soil of the cavaliers, and unsheath his sword in the colony of the Puritans. Out of that Bible were to come the "Petition of Right," the national anthem of 1628, the "Grand Remonstrance," and "Paradise Lost." With it, Blake and Pascal should voyage heroically in diverse seas. In its influence Jeremy Taylor should write his "Liberty of Prophesying," Sir Matthew Hale his fearless replies, while Rembrandt was placing on canvas little Dutch children, with wooden shoes, crowding to the feet of a Jewish Messiah. Its lines, breathing life, order, and freedom, would inspire John Bunyan's dream, Algernon Sidney's fatal republicanism, and Puffendorf's judicature. With them, William Penn would meet the Indian of the forest, and Fénelon, the philosopher, in his meditative solitude. Locke and Newton and Leibnitz would carry it with them in pathless fields of speculation, while Peter the Great was smiting an arrogant priest in Russia, and William was ascending the English throne. From its poetry Cowper, Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning would catch the divine afflatus; from its statesmanship Burke, Romilly, and Bright would learn how to create and redeem institutions; from its melodies Handel, Bach, Mendelssohn, and Beethoven would write oratorios, masses, and symphonies; from its declaration of divine sympathy Wilberforce, Howard, and Florence Nightingale were to emancipate slaves, reform prisons, and mitigate the cruelties of war; from its prophecies Dante's hope of a united Italy was to be realized by Cavour, Garibaldi, and Victor Emmanuel. Looking upon the family Bible as he was dying, Andrew Jackson said: "That book, sir, is the rock on which the Republic rests"; and with her hand upon that book, Victoria, England's queen, was to sum up her history as a power amid the nations of the earth, when, replying to the question of an ambassador: "What is the secret of England's superiority among the nations?" she would say: "Go tell your prince that this is the secret of England's political greatness," Beloved friends, when spurious liberalism, with all her literature, produces such a roll-call as this; when out of her pages I may see coming a nobler set of forces for the making of manhood, then, and only then, will I give up my Bible; then, and only then, will I cease to pray and labor that it may be given to all the world. HILLIS GOD THE UNWEARIED GUIDE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Newell Dwight Hillis was born at Magnolia, Iowa, in 1858. He first became known as a preacher of the first rank during his pastorate over the large Presbyterian church in Evanston, Illinois. This reputation led to his being called to the Central Church, Chicago, in which he succeeded Dr. David Swing, and where from the first he attracted audiences completely filling one of the largest auditoriums in Chicago. In 1899 he was called to Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, to succeed Dr. Lyman Abbott in the pulpit made famous by the ministry of Henry Ward Beecher. By his strong personality and mental gifts he draws to his church a large and eager following. His best known books are "A Man's Value to Society," and "The Investment of Influence." HILLIS Born in 1858 GOD THE UNWEARIED GUIDE[1] [Footnote 1: By permission of the _Brooklyn Daily Eagle_. Copyright, 1905.] _Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God, &c._--Isaiah xl., 1-31. _He shall not fail, nor be discouraged_.--xliv., 4. This is an epic of the unwearied God, and the fainting strength of man. For splendor of imagery, for majesty and elevation, it is one of the supreme things in literature. Perhaps no other Scripture has exerted so profound an influence upon the world's leaders. Luther read it in the fortress of Salzburg, John Brown read it in the prison at Harper's Ferry. Webster made it the model of his eloquence, Wordsworth, Carlyle and a score of others refer to its influence upon their literary style, their thought and life. Like all the supreme things in eloquence, this chapter is a spark struck out of the fires of war and persecution. Its author was not simply an exile--he was a slave who had known the dungeon and the fetter. Bondage is hard, even for savages, naked, ignorant, and newly drawn from the jungle, but slavery is doubly hard for scholars and prophets, for Hebrew merchants and rulers. This outburst of eloquence took its rise in a war of invasion. When the northern host swept southward, and overwhelmed Jerusalem, the onrushing wave was fretted with fire; later, when the wave of war retreated, it carried back the detritus of a ruined civilization. The story of the siege of Jerusalem, the assault upon its gates, the fall of the walls, all the horrors of famine and of pestilence, are given in the earlier chapters of this wonderful book. The homeward march of the Persian army was a kind of triumphal procession in which the Hebrew princes and leaders walked as captives. The king marched in the guise of a slave, with his eyes put out, followed by sullen princes, with bound hands, and unsubdued hearts. As slaves the Hebrews crossed the Euphrates at the very point where Xenophon crossed with his immortal ten thousand. In the land of bondage the exiles were planted, not in military prisons, but in gangs, working now in the fields, now in the streets of the city, and always under the scourge of soldiers. When thirty years had passed the forty thousand captives were scattered among the people, one brother in the palace, and another a slave in the fields. Soon their religion became only a memory, their language was all but forgotten, their old customs and manner of life were utterly gone. But God raised up two gifted souls for just such an emergency as this. One youth, through sheer force of genius, climbed to the position of prime minister, while a young girl through her loveliness came to the king's palace. One day an emancipation proclamation went forth, from a king who had come to believe in the unseen God who loved justice, and would overwhelm oppression and wrong. The good news went forth on wings of the wind. Making ready for their return to their homeland, all the captives gathered on the outskirts of the desert. It was a piteous spectacle. The people were broken in health, their beauty marred, their weapon a staff, their garments the leather coat, their provisions pieces of moldy bread, and their path fifteen hundred miles of sands, across the desert. To such an end had come a disobedient and sinful generation! In that hour, beholding these exiles and captives, a flood of emotions rushed over the poet; he saw those bound who should conquer; he saw that men were slaves who should be kings. Then, with a rush, an immeasurable longing shivers through him like a trumpet call. Oh, to save them! To perish for their saving! To die for their life, to be offered for them all! In an abandon of grief and sympathy, he began to speak to them in words of comfort and hope. At first these exiles, dumb with pain and grief, listened, but listened with no light quivering in the eye, and no hope flitting like sunshine across the face. Their yesterdays held bondage, blows and degradation; their tomorrow held only the desert and the return to a ruined land. Then the word of the Lord came upon the poet. What if the night winds did go mourning through the deserted streets of their capital! What if their language had decayed and their institutions had perished? What if the farmer's field was only a waste of thorns and thickets, and the towns become heaps and ruins! What if the king of Babylon and his army has trampled them under foot, as slaves trample the shellfish, crushing out the purple dye that lends rich color to a royal robe? "Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people." Is the way long and through a desert? "Every valley shall be exalted, every mountain and hill shall be made low." Has slavery worn man's strength to nothingness until he is as weak as the broken reed and the withered grass? The spirit of the Lord will revive the grass, trampled down by the hoofs of war horses. Soon the bruised root shall redden into the rose and the fluted stem climb into the tree. And think you if God's winds can transform a spray and twig into a trunk fit for foundation of house or mast of ship, that eternal arms can not equip with strength the hand of patriot? Is the Shepherd and Leader of His little flock unequal to their guidance across the desert? "Behold the Lord will come with a strong arm; he shall feed his flock like a shepherd and he shall gather the lambs in his arms and carry them in his bosom." What! Man's hand unequal to the task of rebuilding Jerusalem? Hath not God pledged His strength to the worker, that God whose arm strikes out worlds as the smith strikes out sparks upon the anvil? Is not man's helper that God who dippeth up the seas in the hollow of His hand? Who weighs the mountains with scales and the hills in the balance? What! Thine enemies too strong for thee? Why, God looketh upon all the nations and enemies of the earth as but a drop in the bucket. He sendeth forth His breath, and the tribes disappear as dust is blown from the balance. Then the trumpet call shivered through these exiles. "Hast thou not known? Have the sons of the fathers never heard of the everlasting God, the Lord, Creator of the ends of the earth? Fainteth not, neither is weary!" Heavy is the task, but the Eternal giveth power and strength. Even tho young patriots and heroes faint and fall, they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. While fulfilling their task of rebuilding they shall mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. Oh, what a word is this! What page in literature is comparable to it for comfort! Wonderful the strength of the warrior! Mighty the influence of the statesman! All powerful seems the inventor, but greater still the poet who dwells above the clang and dust of time, with the world's secret trembling on his lips. He needs no converse nor companionship, In cold starlight, whence thou can not come, The undelivered tidings in his breast, Will not let him rest. He who looks down upon the immemorable throng, And binds the ages with a song. And through the accents of our time, There throbs the message of eternity. And so the unwearied God comforted the fainting strength of man. Primarily, this glorious outburst was addrest to the exiles as heads of families. The father's strength was broken and his children had been crusht and ground to earth. The ancient patrimony was gone; he had gathered his little ones in from the huts where slaves dwelt. He was leading his little band of pilgrims into a desert. But the prophet spoke to the exiles as to men who believed that the family was the great national institution. With us, the family is important, but with these Hebrew exiles the family was everything. For them the home was the spring from whence the mighty river rolled forth. The family was the headwaters of national, industrial, social and religious life. Every father was revered as the architect of the family fortune. The first ambition of every young Hebrew was to found a family. Just as abroad, a patrician gentleman builds a baronial mansion, fills it with art treasures, hangs the shields and portraits of his ancestors upon the walls, hoping to hand the mansion forward to generations yet unborn, so every worthy Hebrew longed to found a noble family. How keen the anguish, therefore, of this exile in the desert! What a scene is that of the exiles upon the edge of the desert. Darkness is upon the land and the fire burns low into coals. Worn and exhausted, children are sleeping beside the mother. Here is an old man, lying apart, broken and bitter in spirit--one son stands forth a dim figure--looking down upon his aged parents, upon the wife of his bosom and upon his little children. Standing under the stars, he meditates his plans. How shall he care for these, when he returns to his ruined estate? In the event of death, what arm shall lift a shield above these little ones? What if sickness or death pounce upon a home as an eagle upon a dove, as wolves upon lambs, or as brigands descend from the mountains upon sleeping herdsmen! Every founder of a family knows the agony of such an hour! We are in a world where men are never more than a few weeks from, possible poverty and want; little wonder then that all men seek to provide for the future of the home and the children. But to the exile standing in the darkness, with love that broods above his babes, there comes this word of comfort: God's solicitude for you and yours will not let Him slumber or sleep! God will lift up a highway for the feet of the little band of pilgrims. The eternal God shall be thy guide in the march through the desert. His pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night shall stand in the sky; He shall lead the flock like a shepherd; He shall gather the little ones in His arms, and carry the children in His bosom. And if the father fall on the march, the wings of the Eternal shall brood the babes that are left. His right arm shall be a sword and His left arm a shield. The eternal God fainteth not, neither is weary. Having time to care for the stars, and to lead them forth by name, He hath time and thought also for His children. What a word is this for the home! What comfort for all whose hearts turn toward their children! What a pledge to fathers for generations yet unborn! This truth arms every parent for any emergency. For God is round about every home as the mountains are round about Jerusalem, for bounty and protection. But the sage was also thinking of men whose hopes were broken, and whose lives were baffled and beaten. These exiles, crossing the desert, might have claimed for themselves the poet's phrase, "Lo, henceforth I am a prisoner of hope." Like Dante, they might have cried, "For years my pillow by night has been wet with tears, and all day long have I held heartbreak at bay." For these whose glorious youth had been exhausted by bondage, life had run to its very dregs. Gone the days of glorious strength! Gone all the opportunities that belong to the era when the heart is young, the limitations of life had become severe! Environment often is a cage against whose iron bars the soul beats bloody wings in vain! How many men are held back by one weak nerve, or organ! How many are shut in, and limited, and just fall short of supreme success because of an hereditary weakness, handed on by the fathers! How many made one mistake in youth in choosing the occupation and discovered the error when it was too late! How many erred in judgment in their youth, through one critical blunder, that has been irretrievable, and whose burden is henceforth lasht to the back! In such an hour of depression, Isaiah assembles the exiles, and exclaims, "Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people. Tho your young men faint and be weary, tho the strong utterly fail, yet God is the unwearied one; with his help thou shalt take thy burden, and mount up with wings as eagles; with his unwearied strength thou shalt run with thy load and not be weary, and walk and not faint." For this is the experience of persecution and the reward of sorrow, bravely borne that the fainting strength of man is supplemented by the sure help of the unwearied God. Therefore, in retrospect, exiles, prisoners, martyrs, who have believed in God seem fortunate. The endungeoned heroes often seem the children of careful good fortune and happiness. The saints, walking through the fire, stand forth as those who are dear unto God. How the point of view changes events. Kitto was deaf, and in his youth his deafness broke his heart, but because his ears were closed to the din of life, he became the great scholar of his time, and swept the treasures of the world into a single volume, an armory of intellectual weapons. Fawcett was blind, but through that blindness became a great analytic student, a master of organization, and served all England in her commerce. John Bright was broken-hearted, standing above the bier, but Richard Cobden called him from his sorrow to become a voice for the poor, to plead the cause of the opprest, and bring about the Corn Laws for the hungry workers in the factories and shops. Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people. Let the exile say unto himself: "Your warfare is accomplished; your iniquity is pardoned; the Lord's hand will give unto thee double for all thy sins that are forgiven." The great faiths and convictions of the prophets and law-givers, your language and your laws and your liberties, have not been destroyed by captivity; rather slavery has saved them. At last you know their value; in contrast with the idolatry of the Euphrates, the jargon of tongues, the inequality of rights, the organization of justice and oppression, how wonderful the equity of the laws of Moses! How beautiful the faith of the fathers! How surely founded the laws of God. Henceforth idolatry, injustice and sin became as monstrous in their ugliness as they were wicked in their essence. Everything else might go, but not the faith of the fathers. Persecution was like fire on the vase; it burned the colors in. Little wonder that the tradition tells us that for the next hundred years, at stated periods, all the people in the land came together, while a reader repeated this chapter on the unwearied God and the fainting strength of man that had recovered unto hope, men whose hopes had been baffled and beaten. The thought of an unwearied God is also the true antidote to despondency. The ground of optimism is in God. When that great thinker described certain people as without God and without hope, there was sure logic in his phrase, for the Godless man is always the hopeless man. Between no God anywhere and the one God who is everywhere, there is no middle ground. Either we are children, buffeted about by fate and circumstances, with events tossing souls about in an eternal game of battledore and shuttlecock, or else the world is our Father's house, and God standeth within the shadow, keeping watch above His own. For the man who believes in God, who allies himself to nature, who makes the universe his partner, there is no defeat, and no death, and no interruption of his prosperity. Concede that there is a God, and it follows as a logical necessity that He will not permit any enemy to ruin your life and His plans. For a man who holds this faith it follows that there can be no defeat, or failure. Indeed, the essential difference between men is the difference in their relation toward God. Here are the biographies of two great men. Both are men of genius, both are marvelously equipped, but their end was, oh, how different. One is Martin Luther, who stood forth alone, affirming his religious freedom, in the face of enemies and devils thick as the tiles on the roofs of the houses. The few friends Luther had shut him up in a fortress to save his life, but Luther mightily believed in God. With the full consent of his marvelous gifts, he surrendered his life to the will of God. Knowing that his days were as brief as the withering grass, he allied himself with the Eternal. In his discouragement he read these words, "The Everlasting God fainteth not, neither is weary." In that hour Martin Luther shouted for joy. The beetling walls of the fortress were as tho they were not. Victorious he went forth, in thought, ranging throughout all Germany. And going out, he went up and down the land telling the people that God would protect him, and soon Germany was free. Goethe tells us that Luther was the architect of modern German language and literature, and stamped himself into the whole national life. The Germany of the Kaiser is simply Martin Luther written large in fifty millions of men. But what made Luther? There was some hidden energy and spirit within him! What was this spirit in him? The spirit of beauty turned a lump of mud into that Grecian face about which Keats wrote his poem. The spirit of truth changes a little ink into a beautiful song. The spirit of strength and beauty in an architect changes a pile of bricks into a house or cathedral or gallery. And the thought of our unwearied God changed the collier's son into the great German emancipator. But over against this man, who never knew despondency, after his vision hour, stands another German. He, too, was a philosopher, clothed with ample power, and blest with opportunity. But he did evil in his life, and then the heart lost its faith, and hope utterly perished. The more he loved pleasure and pursued self, the more cynical and bitter he became. Pessimism set a cold, hard stamp upon his face, and marred his beauty. Cynicism lies like a black mark across his pages. At last, in his bitterness, the philosopher tells us the whole universe is a mirage, and that yonder summer-making sun is a bubble that repeats its iridescent tints in the colors of the rainbow. Despair ate out his heart. He became the most miserable of men, and knew no freedom from sorrow and pain. And lo, now the man's philosophy has perished like a bubble, his influence has utterly disappeared, for his books are unread, while only an occasional scholar chances upon his name, tho the great summer-making sun still shines on and Luther's eternal God fainteth not, neither is weary. Are you weak, oh, patriot? Remember God is strong. Do your days of service seem short, until your life is scarcely longer than the flower that blooms to-day and is gone tomorrow? God is eternal, and He will take care of your work. Are you sick with hope long deferred? Hope thou in God; He shall yet send succor. Have troubles driven happiness from thee, as the hawk drives the young lark or nightingale from its nest? Return unto thy rest, troubled heart, for the Lord will deal bountifully with thee. Are you anxious for your children? God will bring the child back from the far country. For the child hath wandered far, the golden thread spun in a mother's heart is an unbroken thread that will draw him home! For things that distress you to-day, you shall thank God to-morrow. Nothing shall break the golden chain that binds you to God's throne. Are you hopeless and despondent because of your fainting strength? Remember that the antidote for despondency is the thought of the unwearied God who is doing the best He can for you, and whose ceaseless care neither slumbers nor sleeps. Little wonder therefore that God became all and in all to this feeble band of captives, journeying across the desert back to their ruined life and land. God had taken away earthly things from them, that He might be their all and in all. When the earth is made poor for us, sometimes the heavens become rich. God closed the eyes of Milton to the beauty in land and sea and sky, that he might see the companies of angels marching and countermarching on the hills of God. He closed the ears of Beethoven, that he might hear the music of St. Cecilia falling over heaven's battlements. He gave Isaiah a slave's hut, that he might ponder the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. How is it that this prophet and poet has become companion of the great ones of the earth? At the time Isaiah rebelled against his bondage, but when it was all over, and the fitful fever had passed, and the fleshly fetters had fallen, he smiled at the things that once alarmed him, as he recalled his fainting strength and the unwearied God. Gone--that ancient capital. Babylon is a heap. Jerusalem a ruin! But this epic of the unwearied Guide still lives! Isaiah, can never die! Can a chapter die that has cheered the exile in his loneliness, that has comforted the soldier upon his bivouac, that has braced the martyr for his execution, that has given songs at midnight to the prisoners in the dungeon? Out of suffering and captivity came this song of rest and hope. At last the poet praised the eternal God for his bonds and his imprisonment. Oh, it is darkness that makes the morning light so welcome to the weary watcher. It is hunger that makes bread sweet. It is pain and sickness that gives value to the physician and his medicine. It is business trouble that makes you honor your lawyer and counselor, and it is the sense of need that makes God near. Are there any merchants here who are despondent? Remember the eternal God and make your appeal to the future. Are there any parents whose children have wandered far? When they are old, the children will return to the path of faith and obedience. Are there any in whom the immortal hope burns low? The smoking flax He will not quench, but will fan the flame into victory. Look up to-day; be comforted once more. Work henceforth in hope. Live like a prince. Scatter sunshine. Let your atmosphere be happiness. If troubles come, let them be the dark background that shall throw your hope and faith into bolder relief. God hath set His heart upon you to deliver you. Tho your hand faint, and the tool fall, the eternal God fainteth not, neither is weary. He will bring thy judgment unto victory, immortalize thy good deeds, and crown thy career with everlasting renown. JEFFERSON THE RECONCILIATION BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Charles Edward Jefferson was born at Cambridge, Ohio, in 1860. He came to public attention by the effectiveness of his preaching during a most successful pastorate in Chelsea, Mass., from which he was called to the Broadway Tabernacle, New York, in 1897. During his New York pastorate the Tabernacle at 34th Street has been sold and a unique structure, including an apartment tower ten stories high, has been built farther up-town. Dr. Jefferson has published several successful books. He has a mellow, sympathetic voice, of considerable range and flexibility, and he speaks in an easy, conversational style. JEFFERSON Born in 1860 THE RECONCILIATION[1] [Footnote 1: Reprinted by permission from "Doctrine and Deed," Copyright, 1901, by Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.] _Christ died for our sins_.--1 Cor. xv., 3. I want to think with you this morning about the doctrine of the Atonement. Having used that word atonement once, I now wish to drop it. It is not a New Testament word, and is apt to lead one into confusion. You will not find it in your New Testament at all, providing you use the Revised Version. It is found in the King James Version only once, and that is in the fifth chapter of Paul's letter to the Romans; but a few years ago, when the revisers went to work, they rubbed out the word and would allow it no place whatever in the entire New Testament. They substituted for it a better word--reconciliation--and that is the word that will probably be used in the future theology of the Church. It is my purpose, then, this morning, to think with you about the doctrine of the reconciliation, or, to put it in a way that will be intelligible to all the boys and girls, I want to think with you about the "making up" between God and man. Christianity is distinctly a religion of redemption. Its fundamental purpose is to recover men from the guilt and power of sin. All of its history and its teachings must be studied in the light of that dominating purpose. We are told sometimes that Jesus was a great teacher, and so He was, but the apostles never gloried in that fact. We are constantly reminded that He was a great reformer, and so He was, but Peter and John and Paul seemed to be altogether unconscious of that fact. It is asserted that He was a great philanthropist, a man intensely interested in the bodies and the homes of men, and so of course He was, but the New Testament does not seem to care for that. It has often been declared that He was a great martyr, a man who laid down His life in devotion to the truth, and so He was and so He did, but the Bible never looks at Him from that standpoint or regards Him in that light. It refuses to enroll Him among the teachers or reformers or philanthropists or the martyrs of our race. According to the apostolic writers, Jesus is the world's Redeemer, He was manifested to take away sin. He is the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world. The vast and awful fact that broke the apostles' hearts and sent them out into the world to baptize the nations into His name, was the fact which Paul was all the time asserting, "He died for our sins." No one can read the New Testament without seeing that its central and most conspicuous fact is the death of Jesus. Take, for instance, the gospels, and you will find that over one-quarter of their pages are devoted to the story of His death. Very strange is this indeed, if Jesus was nothing but an illustrious teacher. A thousand interesting events of His career are passed over, a thousand discourses are never mentioned, in order that there may be abundant room for the telling of His death. Or take the letters which make up the last half of the New Testament; in these letters there is scarcely a quotation from the lips of Jesus. Strange indeed is this if Jesus is only the world's greatest teacher. The letters seem to ignore that He was a teacher or reformer, but every letter is soaked in the pathos of His death. There must be a deep and providential reason for all this. The character of the gospels and the letters must have been due to something that Jesus said or that the Holy Spirit inbreathed. A study of the New Testament will convince us that Jesus had trained His disciples to see in His sufferings and death the climax of God's crowning revelation to the world. The key-note of the whole gospel story is struck by John the Baptist in his bold declaration, "Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world." In that declaration there was a reference to His death, for the "lamb" in Palestine lived only to be slain. As soon as Jesus began His public career He began to refer in enigmatic phrases to His death. He did not declare His death openly, but the thought of it was wrapt up inside of all He said. Nicodemus comes to Him at night to have a talk with Him about His work, and among other things, Jesus says, "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness so shall the Son of man be lifted up." Nicodemus did not know what He meant--we know. He goes into the temple and drives out the men who have made it a den of thieves, and when an angry mob surrounds Him He calmly says, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." They did not know what He meant--we know. He goes into the city of Capernaum, and is surrounded by a great crowd who seem to be eager to know the way of life. He begins to talk to them about the bread that comes down from heaven, and among other things He says, "The bread which I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." They did not understand what He said--we understand it now. One day in the city of Jerusalem He utters a great discourse upon the good shepherd. "I am the good shepherd," He says; "the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep." They did not understand Him--we do. In the last week of His earthly life it was reported that a company of Greeks had come to see Him. He falls at once into a thoughtful mood, and when at last He speaks it is to say that "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me." The men standing by did not understand what He said--we understand. All along His journey, from the Jordan to the cross, He dropt such expressions as this: "I have a baptism to be baptized with; and how am I straitened till it be accomplished." Men did not know what He was saying--it is all clear now. But while He did not talk openly to the world about His death, He did not hesitate to speak about it to His nearest friends. As soon as He found a man willing to confess that He was indeed the world's Messiah, the Son of the living God, He began to initiate His disciples into the deeper mysteries of His mission. "From that time," Matthew says, "he began to show, to unfold, to set forth the fact that he must suffer many things and be killed." Peter tried to check Him in this disclosure, but Jesus could not be checked. It is surprising how many times it is stated in the gospels that Jesus told His disciples He must be killed. Matthew says that while they were traveling in Galilee, on a certain day when the disciples were much elated over the marvelous things which He was doing, He took them aside and said "Let these words sink into your ears: I am going to Jerusalem to be killed." Later on, when they were going through Perea, Jesus took them aside and said, "The Son of man must suffer many things, and at last be put to death." On nearing Jerusalem His disciples became impatient for a disclosure of His power and glory. He began to tell them about the grace of humility. "The Son of man," He said, "is come, not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many." On the last Tuesday of His earthly life He sat with His disciples on the slope of the Mount of Olives, and in the midst of His high and solemn teaching He said, "It is only two days now until I shall be crucified." And on the last Thursday of His life, on the evening of His betrayal, He took His disciples into an upper room, and taking the bread and blessing it, He gave it to these men, saying, "This is my body which is given for you." Likewise after supper He took the cup, and when He had blest it gave it to them, saying, "This is my blood of the covenant which is shed for you and for many for the remission of sins. Do this in remembrance of me." It would seem from this that the one thing which Jesus was desirous that all His followers should remember was the fact that He had laid down His life for them. One can not read the gospels without feeling that he is being borne steadily and irresistibly toward the cross. When we get out of the gospels into the epistles we find ourselves face to face with the same tragic and glorious fact. Peter's first letter is not a theological treatise. He is not writing a dissertation on the person of Christ, or attempting to give any interpretation of the death of Jesus; he is dealing with very practical matters. He exhorts the Christians who are discouraged and downhearted to hold up their heads and to be brave. It is interesting to see how again and again he puts the cross behind them in order to keep them from slipping back. "Endure," he says, "because Christ suffered for us. Who his own self bore our sins in his own body on the tree." The Christians of that day had been overtaken by furious persecution. They were suffering all sorts of hardships and disappointments. But "suffer," he says, "because Christ has once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God." Certainly the gospel, according to St. Peter, was: Christ died for our sins. Read the first letter of St. John, and everywhere it breathes the same spirit which we have found in the gospels and in St. Peter. John punctuates almost every paragraph with some reference to the cross. In the first chapter he is talking about sin. "The blood of Jesus Christ," he says, "cleanses us from all sins." In the second chapter he is talking about forgiveness, and this leads him to think at once of Jesus Christ, the righteous, "who is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but for the sins of the whole world." In the third chapter he is talking about brotherly love. He is urging the members of the Church to lay down their lives, one for another, "Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us." In the fourth chapter he tells of the great mystery of Christ's love: "Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins." To the beloved disciple evidently the great fact of the Christian revelation is that Christ died for our sins. But it is in the letters of Paul that we find the fullest and most emphatic assertion of this transcendent fact. It will not be possible for me to quote to you even a half of what he said on the subject. If you should cut out of his letters all the references to the cross, you would leave his letters in tatters. Listen to him as he talks to his converts in Corinth: "First of all I delivered unto you that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins." That was the foremost fact, to be stated in every letter and to be unfolded in every sermon. To Saul of Tarsus, Jesus is not an illustrious Rabbi whose sentences are to be treasured up and repeated to listening congregations; He is everywhere and always the world's Redeemer. And throughout all of Paul's epistles one hears the same jubilant, triumphant declaration, "I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." Let us now turn to the last book of the New Testament, the Book of the Revelation. What does this prophet on the Isle of Patmos see and hear, as he looks out into future ages and coming worlds? The book begins with a doxology: "Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever." John looks, and beholds a great company of the redeemed. He asks who these are, and the reply comes back, "These are they who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." He listens, and the song that goes up from the throats of the redeemed is, "Worthy art thou to take the book, and to open the seals thereof; for thou wast slain and didst purchase us for God with thy blood." At the center of the great vision which bursts upon the soul of the exiled apostle, there is a Lamb that was slain. Whatever we may think of Jesus of Nazareth, there is no question concerning what the men who wrote the New Testament thought. To the men who wrote the book, Jesus was not a Socrates or a Seneca, a Martin Luther or an Abraham Lincoln. His life was not an incident in the process of evolution, His death was not an episode in the dark and dreadful tragedy of human history. His life is God's. greatest gift to men, His death is the climax and the crowning revelation of the heart of the eternal. You can not open the New Testament anywhere without the idea flying into your face, "Christ died for our sins." How different all this is from the atmosphere of the modern Church. When you go into the average church to-day, what great idea meets you? Do you find yourselves face to face with the fact that Christ died for our sins? I do not think you will often hear that great truth preached. In all probability you will hear a sermon dealing with the domestic graces, or with business obligations, or with political duties and complications. You may hear a sermon on city missions, or on foreign missions; you may hear a man dealing with some great evil, or pointing out some alarming danger, or discussing some interesting social problem, or urging upon men's consciences the performance of some duty. It is not often in these modern days that you will hear a sermon dealing with the thought that set the apostles blazing and turned the world upside down. And right there, I think, lies one of the causes of the weaknesses of the modern Church. We have been so busy attending to the things that ought to be done, we have had no time to feed the springs that keep alive these mighty hopes which make us Christian men. What is the secret of the strength of the Roman Catholic Church? How is it that she pursues her conquering way, in spite of stupidities and blunders that would have killed any other institution? I know the explanations that are usually offered, but it seems to me they are far from adequate. Somebody says, But the Roman Catholic Church does not hold any but the ignorant. That is not true. It may be true of certain localities in America, but it is not true of the nations across the sea. In Europe she holds entire nations in the hollow of her hand; not only the ignorant, but the learned; not only the low, but the high; not only the rude, but the cultured, the noble, and the mighty. It will not do to say that the Roman Catholic Church holds nobody but the ignorant. But even if it were true, it would still be interesting to ascertain how she exercises such an influence over the minds and hearts of ignorant people--for ignorant people are the hardest of all to hold. When you say that the Church can hold ignorant men, you are giving her the very highest compliment, for you are acknowledging that she is in the possession of a power which demands an explanation. The very fact that she is able to bring out such hosts of wage-earning men and women in the early hours of Sunday morning, men and women who have worked hard through the week, and many of them far into the night, but who are willing on the Lord's Day to wend their way to the house of God and engage in religious worship, is a phenomenon which is worth thinking about. How does the Roman Catholic Church do it? Somebody says she does it all by appealing to men's fears, she scares men into penitence and devotion. Do you think that that is a fair explanation? I do not think so. I can conceive how she might frighten people for one generation, or for two, but I can not conceive how she could frighten a dozen generations. One would suppose that the spell would wear off by and by. There is a deeper explanation than that The explanation is to be found in the spiritual nature of man. The Roman Catholic leaders, notwithstanding their blunders and their awful sins, have always seen that the central fact of the Christian revelation is the death of Jesus, and around that fact they have organized all their worship. Roman Catholics go to mass; what is the mass? It is the celebration of the Lord's Supper. What is the Lord's Supper? It is the ceremony that proclaims our Lord's death until He comes. The hosts of worshipers that fill our streets in the early Sunday morning hours are not going to church to hear some man discuss an interesting problem, nor are they going to listen to a few singers sing; they are going to celebrate once more the death of the Savior of the world. In all her cathedrals Catholicism places the stations of the cross, that they may tell to the eye the story of the stages of His dying. On all her altars she keeps the crucifix. Before the eyes of every faithful Catholic that crucifix is held until his eyes close in death. A Catholic goes out of the world thinking of Jesus crucified. So long as a Church holds on to that great fact, she will have a grip on human minds and hearts that can not be broken. The cross, as St. Paul said, a stumbling-block to the Jews and foolishness to the Greeks, is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believes. The Catholic Church has picked up the fact of Jesus' death and held it aloft like a burning torch. Around the torch she has thrown all sorts of dark philosophies, but through the philosophies the light has streamed into the hearts and homes of millions of God's children. Protestantism has prospered just in proportion as she has kept the cross at the forefront of all her preaching. The missionaries bring back the same report from every field, that it is the story of Jesus' death that opens the hearts of the pagan world. Every now and then a denomination has started, determined to get rid of the cross of Jesus, or at least to pay scant attention to it, and in every case these denominations have been at the end of the third or fourth generation either decaying or dead. There is no interpretation of the Christian religion that has in it redeeming power which ignores or belittles the death of Christ. If Protestantism to-day is not doing what it ought to do, and is manifesting symptoms which are alarming to Christian leaders, it is because she has in these recent years been engaged so largely in practical duties as to forget to drink inspiration from the great doctrines which must forever furnish life and strength and hope. If you will allow me to prophesy this morning, I predict that the preaching of the next fifty years will be far more doctrinal than the preaching of the last fifty years has been. I imagine some of you will shudder at that. You say you do not like doctrinal preaching, you want preaching that is practical. Well, pray, what is practical preaching? Practical preaching is preaching that accomplishes the object for which preaching is done, and the primary object of all Christian preaching is to reconcile men to God. The experience of 1900 years proves that it is only doctrinal preaching that reconciles the heart to God. If, then, you really want practical preaching, the only preaching that is deserving the name is preaching that deals with the great Christian doctrines. But somebody says, I do not like doctrinal preaching. A great many people have said that within recent years. I do not believe they mean what they say. They are not expressing with accuracy what is in their mind. They do like doctrinal preaching if they are intelligent, faithful Christians, for doctrinal preaching is bread to hearts that have been born again. When people say they do not like doctrinal preaching, they often mean that they do not like preaching which belongs to the eighteenth or seventeenth or sixteenth centuries. They are not to be blamed for this. There is nothing that gets stale so soon as preaching. We can not live upon the preaching of a bygone age. If preachers bring out the interpretations and phraseology which were current a hundred years ago, people must of necessity say, "Oh, please do not give us that, we do not like such doctrinal preaching." But doctrinal preaching need not be antiquated or belated, it may be fresh, it may be couched in the language in which men were born, it may use for its illustrations the images and figures and analogies which are uppermost in men's imagination. And whenever it does this there is no preaching which is so thrilling and uplifting and mighty as the preaching which deals with the great fundamental doctrines. In one sense, the Christian religion never changes, in another sense it is changing all the time. The facts of Christianity never change, the interpretations of those facts alter from age to age. It is with religion as it is with, the stars, the stars never change. They move in their orbits in our night sky as they moved in the night sky of Abraham when he left his old Chaldean home. The constellations were the same at the opening of our century as they were when David watched his flocks on the old Judean hills. But the interpretations of the stars have always changed, must always change. Pick up the old charts which the astrologers made and compare them with the charts of astronomers of our day. How vast the difference! Listen to our astronomers talk about the magnitudes and disunites and composition of the stars, and compare with their story that which was written in the astronomy of a few centuries ago. The stellar universe has not changed, but men's conceptions have changed amazingly. The facts of the human body do not change. Our heart beats as the heart of Homer beat, our blood flows as the blood of Julius Caesar flowed, our muscles and nerves live and die as the nerves and muscles have lived and died in the bodies of men in all the generations--and yet, how the theories of medicine have been altered from time to time. A doctor does not want to hear a medical lecturer speak who persists in using the phraseology and conceptions which were accepted by the medical science of fifty years ago. Conceptions become too narrow to fit the growing mind of the world, and when once outgrown they must be thrown aside. As it is in science, so it is in religion. The facts of Christianity never change, they are fixt stars in the firmament of moral truth. Forever and forever it will be true that Christ died for our sins, but the interpretations of this fact must be determined by the intelligence of the age. Men will never be content with simple facts, they must go behind them to find out an explanation of them. Man is a rational being, he must think, he will not sit down calmly in front of a fact and be content with looking it in the face, he will go behind it and ask how came it to be and what are its relations to other facts. That is what man has always been doing with the facts of the Christian revelation, he has been going behind them and bringing out interpretations which will account for them. The interpretations are good for a little while, and then they are outgrown and cast aside. A good illustration of the progressive nature of theology is found in the doctrine of the atonement. All of the apostles taught distinctly that Christ died for our sins. The early Christians did not attempt to go behind that fact, but by and by men began to attempt explanations. In the second century a man by the name of Irenaeus seized upon the word "ransom" in the sentence, "The Son of man is come to give his life a ransom for many," and found in that word "ransom" the key-word of the whole problem. The explanation of Irenaeus was taken up in the third century by a distinguished preacher, Origen. And in the fourth century the teaching of Origen was elaborated by Gregory of Nyssa. According to the interpretation of these men, Jesus was the price paid for the redemption of men. Paul frequently used the word redemption, and the word had definite meanings to people who lived in the first four centuries of the Christian era. If Christ was indeed a ransom, the question naturally arose, who paid the price? The answer was, God. A ransom must be paid to somebody--to whom was this ransom paid? The answer was, the devil. According to Origen and to Gregory, God paid the devil the life of Jesus in order that the devil might let humanity go free. The devil, by deceit, had tricked man, and man had become his slave--God now plays a trick upon the devil, and by offering him the life of Jesus, secures the release of man. That was the interpretation held by many theologians for almost a thousand years, but in the eleventh century there arose a man who was not satisfied with the old interpretation. The world had outgrown it. To many it seemed ridiculous, to some it seemed blasphemous. There was an Italian by the name of Anselm who was an earnest student of the Scriptures, and he seized upon the word "debt" as the key-word of the problem. He wrote a book, one of the epoch-making books of Christendom, which he called "_Cur Deus Homo_." In this book Anselm elaborated his interpretation of the reconciliation. "Sin," he said, "is debt, and sin against an infinite being is an infinite debt. A finite being can not pay an infinite debt, hence an infinite being must become man in order that the debt may be paid. The Son of God, therefore, assumes the form of man, and by his sufferings on the cross pays the debt which allows humanity to go free." The interpretation was an advance upon that of Origen and Gregory, but it was not final. It was repudiated by men of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and finally, in the day of the Reformation, it was either modified or cast away altogether. Martin Luther, Calvin, and the other reformers seized upon the word "propitiation," and made that the starting-point of their interpretation. According to these men, God is a great governor and man has broken the divine law--transgressors must be punished--if the man who breaks the law is not punished, somebody else must be punished in his stead. The Son of God, therefore, comes to earth to suffer in His person the punishment that rightly belongs to sinners. He is not guilty, but the sins of humanity are imputed to Him, and God wreaks upon Him the penalty which rightfully should have fallen on the heads of sinners. That is known as "the penal substitution theory." It was not altogether satisfactory, many men revolted from it, and in the seventeenth century a Dutchman, Hugo Grotius, a lawyer, brought forth another interpretation, which is known in theology as "the governmental theory." He would not admit that Christ was punished. His sufferings were not penal, but illustrative. "God is the moral governor," said Grotius, "his government must be maintained, law can not be broken with impunity. Unless sin is punished the dignity of God's government would be destroyed. Therefore, that man may see how hot is God's displeasure against sin, Christ comes into the world and suffers the consequences of the transgressions of the race. The cross is an exhibition of what God thinks of sin." That governmental theory was carried into England and became the established doctrine of the English Church for almost three hundred years. It was carried across the ocean and became the dominant theory in the New Haven school of theologians, as represented by Jonathan Edwards, Dwight, and Taylor. The Princeton school of theology still clung to the penal substitution theory, and it was the clashing of the New Haven school and the Princeton school which caused such a commotion in the Presbyterian Church of sixty years ago. They are antiquated. They are too little. They seem mechanical, artificial, trivial. We can say of the governmental theory what Dr. Hodge said, "It degrades the work of Christ to the level of a governmental contrivance." If I should attempt to preach to you the governmental theory as it was preached by theologians fifty years ago, you would not be interested in it There is nothing in you that would respond to it. You would simply say, "I do not like doctrinal preaching." Or if I should go back and take up the penal substitution theory in all its nakedness and hideousness, and attempt to give it to you as the correct interpretation of the gospel, you would rise up in open rebellion and say, "We will not listen to such preaching." If I should go back and take up the Anselmic theory and attempt to show how an infinite debt must be paid by infinite suffering, you would say: "Stop, you are converting God into a Shylock, who is demanding His pound of flesh. We prefer to think of Him as our heavenly Father." If I should go further back and take up the old ransom theory of Origen and Gregory, I suspect that some of you would want to laugh. You could not accept an interpretation which represents God as playing a trick upon Satan in order to get humanity out of his grasp. No, those theories have all been outgrown. We have come out into larger and grander times. We have higher conceptions of the Almighty than the ancients ever had. We see far deeper into the Christian revelation than Martin Luther or John Calvin ever saw. These old interpretations are simply husks, and men and women will not listen to the preaching of them. If, now and then, a belated preacher attempts to preach them, the people say, "If that is doctrinal preaching, please give us something practical." And so the Church is to-day slowly working out a new interpretation of the great fact that Christ died for our sins. The interpretation has not yet been completed, and will not be for many years. I should like this morning simply to outline in a general way some of the more prominent features of the new interpretation. The Holy Ghost is at work. He is taking the things of Christ and showing them unto us. The interpretation of the reconciliation of the future will be superior in every point to any of the interpretations of the past. The new interpretation is going to be simple, straightforward, and natural. The death of Christ is not going to be made something artificial, mechanical, or theatrical. It is going to be the natural conception of the outflowing life of God. The new interpretation is going to start from the Fatherhood of God. The old theories were all born in the counting-room, or the court-house. Jesus went into the house to find His illustrations for the conduct of the heavenly Father. He never went into the court-house, nor can we go there for analogies with which to image forth His dealings with our race. It was His custom to say, "If you, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him." The new interpretation is going to be comprehensive. It is going to be built, not on a single metaphor, but on everything that Jesus and the apostles said. Right there is where the old interpretations went astray. They seized upon one figure of speech and made that the determining factor in the entire interpretation. Jesus said many things, and so did His apostles, and all of them must contribute to the final interpretation. Two things are to be hereafter made very clear: The first is that God reveals Himself in Jesus Christ. The old views were always losing sight of that great fact. There was always a dualism between God and Christ. I remember what my conception was when I was a boy. I thought that God was a strict and solemn and awful king, who was very angry because men had broken His law. He was just, and His justice had no mercy in it. Christ, His Son, was much better-natured and more compassionate, and He came forth into our world to suffer upon the cross that God's justice might relax a little, and His heart be opened to forgive our race. I supposed that that was the teaching of the New Testament, it certainly was the teaching of the hymns in the hymn-book, if not of the preachers. And when I became a young man, I supposed that that was the teaching of the Christian religion. My heart rebelled against it. I would not accept it. I became an infidel. A man can not accept an interpretation of God that does not appeal to the best that is in him. No man can accept a doctrine that darkens his moral sense, or that confuses the distinction between right and wrong. I would not accept the old interpretation because my soul rose in revolt against it. I shall never forget how, one evening in his study, a minister, who had outgrown the old traditions, explained to me the meaning of the reconciliation. He assured me that God is love, invisible, eternal. Christ, His Son, is also love. In becoming at one with the Son we become at one with the Father. This is the at-one-ment. And when that truth broke upon me my heart began to sing: Just as I am--Thy love unknown Hath broken every barrier down; Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone, O Lamb of God, I come! I wonder in telling this if I have not spoken the experience of many of you this morning. It is impossible to love God if we feel that He is stern and despotic, and must be appeased by the sufferings of an innocent man. The New Testament nowhere lends any support to that idea. Everywhere the New Testament assures us that God is the lover of men, that He initiates the movement for man's redemption. "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son...." "Herein is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us." "God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." "The Father spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all." "He that hath seen me hath seen the Father." "I and my Father are one." These are only a few of the passages in which we are told that God is our Savior. When an old Scotchman once heard the text announced, "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son," he exclaimed, "Oh, that was love indeed! I could have given myself, but I never could have given my boy." This, then, is the very highest love of which it is possible for the human mind to think: the love of a father that surrenders his son to sufferings and death. And this brings us to the second great truth which is outgrowing increasingly clear in the consciousness of the Church. The death of Jesus is the revelation of an experience in the heart of God. God is the sin-bearer of the world. He bears our sins on His mind and heart. There are three conceptions of God: the savage, the pagan, and the Christian. God, according to the savage conception, is vengeful, and capricious, and vindictive. He is a great savage hidden in the sky. We have all outgrown that. According to the pagan idea, He is indifferent to the wants and woes of men. He does not care for men. He is not interested in them. He does not sympathize with them. He does not suffer over their griefs. He does not feel pain or sorrow. I am afraid that many of us have never gotten beyond the pagan conception of the Almighty. But according to the Christian conception, God suffers. He feels, and because He feels, He sympathizes, and because He sympathizes, He suffers. He feels both pain and grief. He carries a wound in His heart. We men and women sometimes feel burdened because of the sin we see around us; shall not the heavenly Father be as sensitive and responsive as we men? But somebody says that God can not be happy then. Of course he can not be happy. Happiness is not an adjective to apply to God. Happy is a word that belongs to children. Children are happy, grown people never are. One can be happy when the birds are singing and the dew is on the grass, and there is no cloud in all the sky, and the crape has not yet hung at the door. But after we have passed over the days of childhood, there is happiness no longer. Some of us have lived too long and borne too much ever to be happy any more. But it is possible for us to be blest. We may pass into the very blessedness of God. The highest form of blessedness is suffering for those we love, and shall not the Father of all men have in His own eternal heart that experience which we confess to be the highest form of blessedness? This is the truth which is dawning like a new revelation on the Church: the humanity of God. It is revealed in the New Testament, but as yet we have only begun to take it in. God is like us men. We are like Him. We are made in His image. We are His children, and He is our Father. If we are His children, then we are His heirs, and joint heirs with Christ. Not only our joys, but our sorrows also, are intimations and suggestions of experiences in the infinite heart of the Eternal. MORGAN THE PERFECT IDEAL OF LIFE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE George Campbell Morgan, Congregational divine and preacher, was born in Tetbury, Gloucestershire, England, in 1863, and was educated at the Douglas School, Cheltenham. He worked as a lay-mission preacher for the two years ending 1888, and was ordained to the ministry in the following year, when he took charge of the Congregational Church at Stones, Staffordshire. After occupying the pulpit in several pastorates, in 1904 he became pastor of the Westminster Congregational Chapel, Buckingham Gate, London, a position which he still occupies. Besides being highly successful as a pulpit orator, Dr. Morgan has published many works of a religious character, among which may be enumerated: "Discipleship"; "The Hidden Years of Nazareth"; "Life's Problems"; "The Ten Commandments." His last work, "The Christ of To-day," has passed through several editions. MORGAN Born in 1863 THE PERFECT IDEAL OF LIFE _Jesus therefore said, When ye have lifted up the son of man, then shall ye know that I am he, and that I do nothing of myself, but as the Father taught me, I speak these things. And he that sent me is with me; he hath not left me alone; for I do always the things that are pleasing to him. As he spake these things, many believed on him_.--John viii., 28-30. The Master, you will see, in this verse lays before us three things. First of all, He gives us the perfect ideal of human life in a short phrase, and that comes at the end, "the things that please him." Those are the things that create perfect human life, living in the realm of which man realizes perfectly all the possibilities of his wondrous being--"the things that please him." So I say, in this phrase, the Master reveals to us the perfect ideal of our lives. Then, in the second place, the Master lays claim--one of the most stupendous claims that He ever made--that He utterly, absolutely, realizes that ideal. He says, "I do always the things that please him." And then, thirdly, we have the revelation of the secret by which He has been able to realize the ideal, to make the abstract concrete, to bring down the fair vision of divine purpose to the level of actual human life and experience, and the secret is declared in the opening words: "He that sent me is with me; my Father hath not left me alone." The perfect ideal for my life, then, is that I live always in the realm of the things that please God; and the secret by which I may do so is here unfolded--by living in perpetual, unbroken communion with God: communion with which I do not permit anything to interfere. Then it shall be possible for me to pass into this high realm of actual realization. It is important that we should remind ourselves in a few sentences that the Lord has indeed stated the highest possible ideal for human life in these words: "The things that please him." Oh, the godlessness of men! The godlessness that is to be found on every hand! The godlessness of the men and women that are called by the name of God! How tragic, how sad, how awful it is! because godlessness is always not merely an act of rebellion against God, but a falling-short in our own lives of their highest and most glorious possibilities. Here is my life. Now, the highest realm for me is the realm where all my thoughts, and all my deeds, and all my methods, and everything in my life please God. That is the highest realm, because God only knows what I am; only perfectly understands the possibilities of my nature, and all the great reaches of my being. You remember those lines that Tennyson sang--very beautifully, I always think: Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies;-- Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little Flower--but if I could understand What you art, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is. Beautiful confession! Absolutely true. I hold that flower in my hand, and I look at it, flower and leaves and stem and root. I can botanize it, and then I tear it to pieces--that is what the botanist mostly does--and you put some part of it there, and some part of it there, and some part of it there. There is the root, there the stem, and there are the leaves, and there is everything; but where is the flower? Gone. How did it go? When did it go? Why, when you ruthlessly tore it to bits. But how did you destroy it? You interfered with the principle that made it what it was--you interfered with the principle of life. What is life? No man can tell you. "If I could but know what you are, little flower, root and all, and all in all," I would know what life is, what God is, what man is. I can not. Now, if you lift that little parable of the flower into the highest realm of animal life, and speak of yourself--we don't know ourselves; down in my nature there are reaches that I have not fathomed yet. They are coming up every day. What a blest thing it is to have the Master at hand, to hand them over to Him as they come up, and say, "Lord, here is another piece of Thy territory; govern it; I don't know anything about it." But there is the business. I don't know myself, but God knows me, understands all the complex relationships of my life, knows how matter affects mind, and physical and mental and spiritual are blended in one in the high ideal of humanity. Oh, remember, man is the crowning and most glorious work of God of which we know anything as yet. And God only knows man. But here is a Man that stands amid His enemies, and He looks out upon His enemies, and He says, "I do the things that please him"--not "I teach them," not "I dream them," not "I have seen them in a fair vision," but "I do them." There never was a bigger claim from the lips of the Master than that: "I do always the things that please him." You would not thank me to insult your Christian experience, upon whatever level you live it, by attempting to define that statement of Christ. History has vindicated it. We believe it with all our hearts--that He always did the things that pleased God. But I have got on to a level that I can touch now. The great ideal has come from the air to the earth. The fair vision has become concrete in a Man. Now, I want to see that Man; and if I see that Man I shall see in Him a revelation of what God's purpose is for men, and I shall see, therefore, a revelation of what the highest possibility of life is. Now this is a tempting theme. It is a temptation to begin to contrast Him with popular ideals of life. I want to see Him; I want, if I can, to catch the notes of the music that make up the perfect harmony which was the dropping of a song out of God's heaven upon man's earth, that man might catch the key-note of it and make music in his own life. What are the things in this Man's life? He says: "I have realized the ideal--I do." There are four things that I want to say about Him, four notes in the music of His life. First, spirituality. That is one of the words that needs redeeming from abuse. He was the embodiment of the spiritual ideal in life. He was spiritual in the high, true, full, broad, blest sense of that word. It may be well for a moment to note what spirituality did not mean in the life of Jesus Christ. It did not mean asceticism. During all the years of His ministry, during all the years of His teaching, you never find a single instance in which Jesus Christ made a whip of cords to scourge Himself. And all that business of scourging oneself--an attempt to elevate the spirit by the ruin of the actual flesh--is absolutely opposed to His view of life. Jesus Christ did not deny Himself. The fact of His life was this--that He touched everything familiarly. He went into all the relationship of life. He went to the widow. He took up the children and held them in His arms, and looked into their eyes till heaven was poured in as He looked. He didn't go and get behind walls somewhere. He didn't get away and say: "Now, if I am going to get pure I shall do it by shutting men out." You remember what the Pharisees said of Him once. They said: "This man receiveth sinners." You know how they said it. They meant to say: "We did hope that we should make something out of this new man, but we are quite disappointed. He receives sinners." And what did they mean? They meant what you have so often said: "You can't touch pitch without being defiled." But this Man sat down with the publican and He didn't take on any defilement from the publican. On the other hand, He gave the publican His purity in the life of Jesus Christ. Things worked the other way. He was the great negative of God to the very law of evil that you have--evil contaminates good. If you will put on a plate one apple that is getting bad among twelve others that are pure, the bad one will influence the others. Christ came to drive back every force of disease and every force of evil by this strong purity of His own person, and He said: "I will go among the bad and make them good." That is what He was doing the whole way through. So His spirituality was not asceticism. And if you are going to be so spiritual that you see no beauty in the flowers and hear no music in the song of the birds; if the life which you pass into when you consent to the crucifixion of self does not open to you the very gates of God, and make the singing of the birds and the blossoming of the flowers infinitely more beautiful, you have never seen Jesus yet. What was His spirituality? The spirituality of Jesus Christ was a concrete realization of a great truth which He laid down in His own beatitudes. What was that? "Blest are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Now, the trouble is we have been lifting all the good things of God and putting them in heaven. And I don't wonder that you sing: My willing soul would stay In such a frame as this, And sit and sing itself away To everlasting bliss. No wonder you want to sing yourself away to everlasting bliss, because everything that is worth having you have put up there. But Jesus said: "Blest are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." If you are pure you will see Him everywhere--in the flower that blooms, in the march of history, in the sorrows of men, above the darkness of the darkest cloud; and you will know that God is in the field when He is most invisible. Second, subjection. The next note in the music of His life is His absolute subjection to God. You can very often tell the great philosophies which are governing human lives by the little catchwords that slip off men's tongues: "Well, I thank God I am my own master." That is your trouble, man. It is because you are your own master that you are in danger of hell. A man says: "Can't I do as I like with my own?" You have got no "own" to do what you like with. It is because men have forgotten the covenant of God, the kingship of God, that we have all the wreckage and ruin that blights this poor earth of ours. Here is the Man who never forgot it. Did you notice those wonderful words: "I do nothing of myself, but as my Father taught me, I speak." He neither did nor spoke anything of Himself. It was a wonderful life. He stood forevermore between the next moment and heaven. And the Father's voice said, "Do this," and He said "Amen, I came to do thy will," and did it. And the Father's voice said, "Speak these words to men," and He, "Amen," and He spoke. You say: "That is just what I do not want to do." I know that. We want to be independent; have our own way. "The things that please God--this Man was subject to the divine will." You know the two words--if you can learn to say them, not like a parrot, not glibly, but out of your heart--the two words that will help you "Halleluiah" and "Amen." You can say them in Welsh or any language you like; they are always the same. When the next dispensation of God's dealings faces you look at it and say: "Halleluiah! Praise God! Amen!" That means, "I agree." Third, sympathy. Now, you have this Man turned toward other men. We have seen something of Him as He faced God: Spirituality, a sense of God; subjection, a perpetual amen to the divine volition. Now, He faces the crowd. Sympathy! Why? Because He is right with God, He is right with men; because He feels God near, and knows Him, and responds to the divine will; therefore, when He faces men He is right toward men. The settlement of every social problem you have in this country and in my own land, the settlement of the whole business, will be found in the return of man to God. When man gets back to God he gets back to men. What is behind it? Sympathy is the power of putting my spirit outside my personality, into the circumstances of another man, and feeling as that man feels. I take one picture as an illustration of this. I see the Master approaching the city of Nain, and around Him His disciples. He is coming up. And I see outside the city of Nain, coming toward the gate a man carried by others, dead, and walking by that bier a mother. Now, all I want you to look at is that woman's face, and, looking into her face, see all the anguish of those circumstances. She is a widow, and that is her boy, her only boy, and he is dead. Man can not talk about this. You have got to be in the house to know what that means. But look at her face--there it is. All the sorrow is on her face. You can see it. Now, turn from her quickly and look into the face of Christ. Why, I look into His face--there is her face. He is feeling all she is feeling; He is down in her sorrow with her; He has got underneath the burden, and He is feeling all the agony that that woman feels because her boy is dead. He is moved with compassion whenever human sorrow crosses His vision and human need approaches Him. And now I see Him moving toward the bier. I see Him as He touches it. And He takes the boy back and gives him to his mother. Do you see in yon mountain a cloud, so somber and sad, and suddenly the sun comes from behind the cloud, and all the mountain-side laughs with gladness? That is that woman's face. The agony is gone. The tear that remains there is gilded with a smile, and joy is on her face. Look at Him. There it is. He is in her joy now. He is having as good a time as the woman. He has carried her grief and her sorrow. He has given her joy. And it is His joy that He has given to her. He is with her in her joy. Wonderful sympathy! He went about gathering human sorrow into His own heart, scattering His joy, and having fellowship in agony and in deliverance, in tears and in their wiping away. Great, sympathetic soul! Why? Because He always lived with God, and, living with God, the divine love moved Him with compassion. Ah, believe me, our sorrows are more felt in heaven than on earth. And we had that glimpse of that eternal love in this Man, who did the things that pleased God, and manifested such wondrous sympathy. Fourth, strength. The last note is that of strength. You talk about the weakness of Jesus, the frailty of Jesus. I tell you, there never was any one so strong as He. And if you will take the pains of reading His life with that in mind you will find it was one tremendous march of triumph against all opposing forces. About His dying--how did He die? "At last, at last," says the man in his study that does not know anything about Jesus; "At last His enemies became too much for Him, and they killed Him." Nothing of the sort. That is a very superficial reading. What is the truth? Hear it from His own lips: "No man taketh my life from me. I lay it down of myself. And if I lay it down I have authority to take it again." What do you think of that? How does that touch you as a revelation of magnificence in strength? And then, look at Him, when He comes back from the tomb, having fulfilled that which was either an empty boast or a great fact--thank God, we believe it was a great fact! Now He stands upon the mountain, with this handful of men around Him, His disciples, and He is going away from them. "All authority," He says, "is given unto me. I am king not merely by an office conferred, but by a triumph won. I am king, for I have faced the enemies of the race--sin and sorrow and ignorance and death--and my foot is upon the neck of every one. All authority is given to me." Oh, the strength of this Man! Where did He get it? "My Father hath not left me alone. I have lived with God. I have walked with God. I always knew him near. I always responded to his will. And my heart went out in sympathy to others, and I mastered the enemies of those with whom I sympathized. And I come to the end and I say, All authority is given to me." Oh, my brother, that is the pattern for you and for me! Ah, that is life! That is the ideal! Oh, how can I fulfil it? I am not going to talk about that. Let me only give you this sentence to finish with, "Christ in you, the hope of glory." If Christ be in me by the power of the Spirit, He will keep me conscious of God's nearness to me. If Christ be in me by the consciousness of the spirit reigning and governing, He will take my will from day to day, blend it with His, and take away all that makes it hard to say, "God's will be done." CADMAN A NEW DAY FOR MISSIONS BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE S. Parkes Cadman is one of the many immigrant clergymen who have attained to fame in American pulpits. He was born in Shropshire, England, December 18, 1864, and graduated from Richmond College, London University, in 1889. Coming to this country about 1895 he was appointed pastor of the Methodist Episcopal Metropolitan Tabernacle, New York. From this post he was called to Central Congregational Church, Brooklyn, with but one exception the largest Congregational Church in the United States. He has received the degree of D.D. from Wesleyan University and the University of Syracuse. The sermon here given, somewhat abridged, was delivered before the National Council of Congregational Churches, in Cleveland, Ohio, and is from Dr. Cadman's manuscript. CADMAN Born in 1864 A NEW DAY FOR MISSIONS _God forbid that I should glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ: by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world_.--Gal. vi., 14. The pivotal conception of missionary enterprise is the conception of Christ as the eternal priest of humanity. If any need of the world's heart is before us now, it is the need of the Cross. There is a deep and anxious desire in men for the saving forces of sacrificial Christianity. The ideals of the New Testament concerning Gethsemane and Calvary are being thrust upon our attention by the upward strugglings of the people. They, at any rate, have not forgotten the forsaken Man in the night of awful silence in the garden, nor His exceeding bitter agony, nor the perfect ending that made His death His victory. The wastes of eccentricity, whether orthodox or heterodox, and the over curious speculations of theologies remote from the habitations of men, have had little influence upon the multitudes we seek to serve. And if I had to choose a sphere where one could rediscover the central forces of Christian life and of Christian practise, I would lean toward the enlightened democracies which to-day are vibrant with the plea that the shepherdless multitudes shall have social ameliorations and new incentives and selfless leaders. We are all very jealous for the honor and success of the propagandism we sustain at home and abroad, and I hold that its honor and success alike depend upon the priesthood and redemptive efficacies of Jesus. These sovereign forces are correlated with His victories for the twenty past centuries, and they constitute the distinctive genius of the faith. We shall gain nothing for the rule or for the ethics of Jesus by derogating that peculiar office of the divine Victim which is, to me, at any rate, the most sublime reason for the Incarnation and the ineffable height and depth and mystery of all love and all strength blessedly operative in every ruined condition by means of sacrifice. The missionary fields confessedly can not be conquered by the unaided teacher; he must have more than a system of truth, more than a program, more than a reasoned discourse. Their vast inert mass demands vitalization; and the life which is given for the life of men, the divinest gift of all, is alone sufficient for this regeneration. Moreover, can we rest the absolutism and finality of Jesus upon anything less than the last complete outpouring of His soul unto voluntary death for men's salvation? I do not think we can, and it is a requisite that we place larger emphasis upon this holy mystery of our life through Christ's death, the substantial soul and secret of all missionary progress in all ages of the Church. Before we can see the miracle of nations entering the kingdom of God, before we can dismiss the black death of apathy which rests on so many professedly Christian communities, before we can dominate the social structure in righteousness and justice, the Church must be raised nearer to the standards of New Testament efficiency. And New Testament efficiency rested upon the perfect divinity and all-persuasive mediatorship of "Christ and him crucified." The personality of Christ involves for many of us the entire relation of God to His universe; He is "the central figure in all history," and Pie is "the central figure of our personal experience," creative in us, by His inaugural experience, of all we are in Him and for our fellows. Thus we make great claims for the Lord of the harvest, and we make them soberly, and we know them true for our spiritual consciousness, and we are prepared to defend them. Yet I, for one, do not hesitate to admit that the theological necessities of missionary work are many, and that they must be recognized and met before it can fully accomplish its infinite design. Indeed, the rule of Jesus in all these aspects of His mission clarifies and simplifies the gospel. It is plain that such a gospel, wherein the living personality of the Christ deals with the living man to whom we minister, is not to be beset by complications and abstractions. Its spiritual topography embraces the height of good, the depth of love, the breadth of sympathy, and the width of catholicity. It was meant for the race and for the far-reaching reciprocities and inexpressible necessities of the race. It is attuned to the cry of the common heart. Its interpretations have the sanctions of an authoritative human experience which has never failed in its witness. Sometimes I have challenged these honored servants of the evangel who have come back to us from quarters where they were busy on the errands of the cross. Almost pathetically, with the painful interest of one inquiring for a long absent friend of whom no news has been received, I have solicited the missionaries. They came from the south of our own dear land, where they administered to the negro; from the arctic zone, from the farther East. Their wider vision, their more imperial instinct, were plain to me, and my usual question was, "What do you teach the impulsive colored man and the stolid Eskimo and the pensive Hindu and the inscrutable Asiatic?" And they replied, "We teach them, that God is a personal spirit and Father, whose character is holiness and whose heart is love; that Jesus Christ is the designed and supreme Son of God, who lived in sinlessness and died in perfect willing sacrifice for the eternal life of all men, that by the will of God and in the power of His spirit men may have everlasting life and, better still, everlasting goodness, if they will accept and trust in Jesus Christ for all." And this gospel obtains the day of overcoming for which we plead and pray. For tho an angel from heaven had any other, men do not respond; the charisma rests on no other message. Possest of it, and possessing it, under the covenant of heaven and led by the Shepherd and Bishop of souls, we shall go forth determined to give it place in us and in our presentations as never before. May nothing mar the solemn splendor of such a message from God unto men. Let us subordinate our undue intellectualism and place our boasted freedom under restraints, so that the evangel may be preached without reserve and with abandon. "For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, himself man, Christ Jesus, who gave himself a ransom for all." Such in one grand passage is the creed that breathes the very life and spirit of the most significant and overwhelming missionary period in the history of the Christian Church. There is a new day due in missions because of the immense superiority in missionary methods. The _personnel_ of our administrations has been superb, and of nearly all the honored servants of God who have labored in domestic and foreign departments it could be said, "Thou hast loved righteousness and hated iniquity." But I presume these seasoned veterans would be the first to show us how the whole conception of propagandism has been readapted, and its vehicles of communication multiplied in various directions. The onfall and sally of the earler evangelistic campaigns are now aided by the investment and siege of educational and medical work. The trackways of a policy embedded in the wider interpretation of the gospel are laid and the new era takes shape before our comprehension. Travel, exploration, and commerce have demanded and obtained the _Lusitania_ on the sea; the railroad from the Cape to Cairo on the land, and they have left no spot of earth untrodden, no map obscure, no mart unvisited. Keeping step with this stately and unprecedented development, and often anticipating it, the widening frontiers of our missionary kingdom have demonstrated again and again how the Church can make a bridal of the earth and sky, linking the lowliest needs to the loftiest truths. And best of all in respect of methods is the dispersal of our native egotism. We have come to see that the types of Christianity in Europe and America are perhaps aboriginal for us, but can not be transplanted to other shores. "Manifest destiny" is a phrase that sits down when Japan and China wake up. Not thus can Jesus be robbed of the fruits of His passion in any branch of the human family. We are to plant and water, labor in faith, and die in hope, scattering the seed of the gospel in the hearts of these brothers of regions outside. But God will ordain their harvests as it pleaseth Him. What will be the joy of that harvest? Throw your imagination across this new century, and as it dies and gives place to its successor, review the race whose devotion has then fastened on the divine ruler and the federal Man, Christ Jesus. For nearly a hundred years the barriers that segregated us will have been a memory. The Church will have discovered not only fields of labor, but forces for her replenishing. Then will our posterity rejoice in the larger Christ who is to be. The virtuous elements of all other faiths will be placed under the purification and control of the priesthood and authority of Jesus. And tho in these ancient religions that await the Bridegroom, the mortal stains the immortal and the human mars the beauty of the divine, in the light of His appearing they will assume new attitudes and receive His quickening and thrill with His pulse. When I conceive of this reward for our Daysman I protest that all other triumphs seem as tinsel and sham. The Desire of all nations shall then see of the travail of His soul and shall be satisfied. The subtle patience of China, the fierce resistance of Japan, the brooding soul that haunts the Ganges valley, the tumult of emotion of the Ethiopian breast, all are for His appearing; they must be saved unto noble ends by His sanctification. For that time there will be a Church whose canonization of the infinite is beyond our dreams, enriched on every side, with common allegiance and diversity of gifts, and every gift the boon of all, and Christ's dower in His bride increased beyond compare. This is the ideal of the new day; may it become our personal ideal. Then shall we fight with new courage for the right, and abhor the imperfect, the unjust, and the mean. Our leaders will care nothing for flattery and praise or odium and abuse. Enthusiasm can not be soured, nor courage diminished. The Almighty has placed our hand on the greatest of His plows, in whose furrow the nations I have named are germinating religiously. And to drive forward the blade if but a little, and to plant any seed of justice and of joy, any sense of manliness or moral worth, to aid in any way the gospel which is the friend of liberty, the companion of the conscience and the parent of the intellectual enlightenment--is not that enough? Is it not a complete justification of our plea? We shall do well to remember that no evangel can prosper without the evangelical temper. The parsing of grammarians is of little avail here, and to have all critical knowledge of the prophets and apostles of the faith without their fervor and consecration is profitable merely for study, and useless mainly for the larger life. Our culture must be the passion-flower of Christ Jesus. To be more anxious about intellectual pre-eminence or ecclesiastical origins than about "the trial of the immigrant" and the condition of the colored races is not helpful. "There is a sort of orthodoxy that revels in the visions of apocalypses and refuses to fight the beast," says Dr. Nurgan. Such barren indulgence is excluded from any glory to follow. Technicalities, niceties, knowledge remote and knowledge general must be appropriated and made dynamic in this life-and-death conflict; any that can not be thus used can be sent to the rear for a further debate. Diplomacies in church government and adjustments in church creeds can wait on this consecration, this baptism of unction. I never heard that the statesman who formulated the peace at Paris in 1815 got in the way of the Household Brigades and the Highlanders at Waterloo and Hougomont. They played their commendable game, but they could not have swept that awful slope of flame in which Ney and the Old Guard staggered on at Mont St. Jean. Let us redeem our creeds at the front, and prove the welding of our weapons and their tempered blades upon every evil way and darkness and superstition that afflict humankind. And have you not seen with moistened eyes and beating hearts the pathetic surgings of harassed and broken sons and daughters of God toward His son Jesus Christ? I have watched them until I felt constrained to cry aloud and spare not; and while viewing them here and yonder, and refusing to be localized in our love toward them, have not our spirits been rebuked, have they not known fear for ourselves, have they not pensively echoed the charge of some that we have no real roots in democracy, but are as plants in pots, and not as oaks in the soil of earth? If independency is a barrier to the essence of which it is supposedly a form, if superiority shuts us off from assimilation with popular movements and delivers us over to cliques, then these churches of ours[1] will end in a record of shame and confusion. While we are busy in trivial things, our energy and our might will be deflected, and the living God will hand over the crusade to those who have proven worthier and who knew the day when it did come, even the day of their visitation. [Footnote 1: The special reference is to the Congregational churches.] We must arise with courage undismayed, and join in the cry of the ages: When wilt thou save the people, O God of mercy, when? The people! Lord, the people! Not crowns, nor thrones, but men. Flower of thy heart, O Lord, are they, Their heritage a sunless day. Let them like weeds not fade away; Lord, save the people. If our hearts are thus enlarged, we shall run in the way of His commandments; fatherhood and brotherhood and sonship will not be symbols, shibboleths of pious intercourse, but ways of God's reaching out through us for the total brotherhood. We shall silence the caviler against missions; we shall raise the negro in the face of those who say he can not be raised; we shall see the latter-day miracles, and the lame man healed and rejoicing at the Temple gate. Thus may the breath of God sweep across our pastorates and dismiss timidity, provincialism, ease, and narrowness of outlook. And thus may the power be demonstrated as of heaven because it is the power unto salvation. Let us fear not men who shall die, nor be content to fill our peaceful lot and occupy a respectable grave. The new world needs the renewed baptism, and the "modernism" of which medievalists complain is the robe of honor for the Christ of this epoch. So that there shall come unto the Church the flame of sacred love, and, kindling on every heart and altar, there shall it burn for the glory of Christ, the High Priest, with inextinguishable blaze. We can rest content, for, behold! the day cometh and in its light. Let us go hence. JOWETT APOSTOLIC OPTIMISM BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Henry Jowett, Congregational divine, was born at Barnard Castle, Durham, in 1864, and educated at Edinburgh and Oxford universities. In 1889 he was ordained to St. James's Congregational Church, Newcastle-on-Tyne, and in 1895 was called to his present pastorate of Carr's Lane Congregational Church, Birmingham, where he has taken rank among the leading preachers of Great Britain. He is the author of several important books. JOWETT Born in 1864 APOSTOLIC OPTIMISM[1] [Footnote 1: Reprinted by permission of A.C. Armstrong & Son.] _Rejoicing in hope_.--Romans xii., 12. That is a characteristic expression of the fine, genial optimism of the Apostle Paul. His eyes are always illumined. The cheery tone is never absent from his speech. The buoyant and springy movement of his life is never changed. The light never dies out of his sky. Even the gray firmament reveals more hopeful tints, and becomes significant of evolving glory. The apostle is an optimist, "rejoicing in hope," a child of light wearing the "armor of light," "walking in the light" even as Christ is in the light. This apostolic optimism was not a thin and fleeting sentiment begotten of a cloudless summer day. It was not the creation of a season; it was the permanent pose of the spirit. Even when beset with circumstances which to the world would spell defeat, the apostle moved with the mien of a conqueror. He never lost the kingly posture. He was disturbed by no timidity about ultimate issues. He fought and labored in the spirit of certain triumph. "We are always confident." "We are more than conquerors through Him that loved us." "Thanks be unto God who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." This apostolic optimism was not born of sluggish thinking, or of idle and shallow observation. I am very grateful that the counsel of my text lifts its chaste and cheery flame in the twelfth chapter of an epistle of which the first chapter contains as dark and searching an indictment of our nature as the mind of man has ever drawn. Let me rehearse the appalling catalog that the radiance of the apostle's optimism may appear the more abounding: "Senseless hearts," "fools," "uncleanness," "vile passions," "reprobate minds," "unrighteousness, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, malignity, whisperers, backbiters, hateful to God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil things, without understanding, covenant breakers, without natural affection, unmerciful." With fearless severity the apostle leads us through the black realms of midnight and eclipse. And yet in the subsequent reaches of the great argument, of which these dark regions form the preface, there emerges the clear, calm, steady light of my optimistic text. I say it is not the buoyancy of ignorance. It is not the flippant, light-hearted expectancy of a man who knows nothing about the secret places of the night. The counselor is a man who has steadily gazed at light at its worst, who has digged through the outer walls of convention and respectability, who has pushed his way into the secret chambers and closets of life, who has dragged out the slimy sins which were lurking in their holes, and named them after their kind--it is this man who when he has surveyed the dimensions of evil and misery and contempt, merges his dark indictment in a cheery and expansive dawn, in an optimistic evangel, in which he counsels his fellow-disciples to maintain the confident attitude of a rejoicing hope. Now, what are the secrets of this courageous and energetic optimism? Perhaps, if we explore the life of this great apostle, and seek to discover its springs, we may find the clue to his abounding hope. Roaming then through the entire records of his life and teachings, do we discover any significant emphasis? Preeminent above all other suggestions, I am imprest with his vivid sense of the reality of the redemptive work of Christ. Turn where I will, the redemptive work of the Christ evidences itself as the base and groundwork of his life. It is not only that here and there are solid statements of doctrine, wherein some massive argument is constructed for the partial unveiling of redemptive glory. Even in those parts of his epistles where formal argument has ceased, and where solid doctrine is absent, the doctrine flows as a fluid element into the practical convictions of life, and determines the shape and quality of the judgments. Nay, one might legitimately use the figure of a finer medium still, and say that in all the spacious reaches of the apostle's life the redemptive work of his Master is present as an atmosphere in which all his thoughts and purposes and labors find their sustaining and enriching breath. Take this epistle to the Romans in which my text is found. The earlier stages of the great epistle are devoted to a massive and stately presentation of the doctrines of redemption. But when I turn over the pages where the majestic argument is concluded, I find the doctrine persisting in a diffused and rarefied form, and appearing as the determining factor in the solution of practical problems. If he is dealing with the question of the "eating of meats," the great doctrine reappears and interposes its solemn and yet elevating principle: "destroy not him with thy meat for whom Christ died." If he is called upon to administer rebuke to the passionate and unclean, the shadow of the cross rests upon his judgment. "Ye are not your own; ye are bought with a price." If he is portraying the ideal relationship of husband and wife, he sets it in the light of redemptive glory: "Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself up for it." If he is seeking to cultivate the grace of liberality, he brings the heavenly air around about the spirit. "Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that tho he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor." It interweaves itself with all his salutations. It exhales in all his benedictions like a hallowing fragrance. You can not get away from it. In the light of the glory of redemption all relationships are assorted and arranged. Redemption was not degraded into a fine abstract argument, to which the apostle had appended his own approval, and then, with sober satisfaction, had laid it aside, as a practical irrelevancy, in the stout chests of orthodoxy. It became the very spirit of his life. It was, if I may be allowed the violent figure, the warm blood in all his judgment. It filled the veins of all his thinking. It beat like a pulse in all his purposes. It determined and vitalized his decisions in the crisis, as well as in the lesser trifles of the common day. His conception of redemption was regulative of all his thought. But it is not only the immediacy of redemption in the apostle's thought by which I am imprest. I stand in awed amazement before its vast, far-stretching reaches into the eternities. Said an old villager to me concerning the air of his elevated hamlet, "Ay, sir, it's a fine air is this westerly breeze; I like to think of it as having traveled from the distant fields of the Atlantic!" And here is the Apostle Paul, with the quickening wind of redemption blowing about him in loosening, vitalizing, strengthening influence, and to him, in all his thinking, it had its birth in the distant fields of eternity! To the apostle redemption was not a small device, an afterthought, a patched-up expedient to meet an unforseen emergency. The redemptive purpose lay back in the abyss of the eternities, and in a spirit of reverent questioning the apostle sent his trembling thoughts into those lone and silent fields. He emerged with, whispered secrets such as these: "fore-knew," "fore-ordained," "chosen in him before the foundation of the world," "eternal life promised before times eternal," "the eternal purpose which he purposed in Christ Jesus our Lord." Brethren, does our common thought of redemptive glory reach back into this august and awful presence? Does the thought of the modern disciple journey in this distant pilgrimage? Or do we now regard it as unpractical and irrelevant? There is no more insidious peril in modern religious life than the debasement of our conception of the practical. If we divorce the practical from the sublime, the practical will become the superficial, and will degenerate into a very lean and forceless thing. When Paul went on this lonely pilgrimage his spirit acquired the posture of a finely sensitive reverence. People who live and move beneath great domes acquire a certain calm and stately dignity. It is in companionship with the sublimities that awkwardness and coarseness are destroyed. We lose our reverence when we desert the august. But has reverence no relationship to the practical? Shall we discard it as an irrelevant factor in the purposes of common life? Why, reverence is the very clue to fruitful, practical living. Reverence is creative of hope; nay, a more definite emphasis can be given to the assertion; reverence is a constituent of hope. Annihilate reverence, and life loses its fine sensitiveness, and when sensitiveness goes out of a life the hope that remains is only a flippant rashness, a thoughtless impetuosity, the careless onrush of the kine, and not a firm, assured perception of a triumph that is only delayed. A reverent homage before the sublimities of yesterday is the condition of a fine perception of the hidden triumphs of the morrow. And, therefore, I do not regard it as an accidental conjunction that the psalmist puts them together and proclaims the evangel that "the Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear him, in them that hope in his mercy." To feel the days before me I must revere the purpose which throbs behind me. I must bow in reverence if I would anticipate in hope. Here, then, is the Apostle Paul, with the redemptive purpose interweaving itself with all the entanglements of his common life, a purpose reaching back into the awful depths of the eternities, and issuing from those depths in amazing fulness of grace and glory. No one can be five minutes in the companionship of the Apostle Paul without discovering how wealthy is his sense of the wealthy, redeeming ministry of God. What a wonderful consciousness he has of the sweep and fulness of the divine grace! You know the variations of the glorious air: "the unsearchable riches of Christ"; "riches in glory in Christ Jesus"; "all spiritual blessings in the heavenly places in Christ"; "the riches of his goodness and forbearance and long-suffering." The redemptive purpose of God bears upon the life of the apostle and upon the race whose privileges he shares, not in an uncertain and reluctant shower, but in a great and marvelous flood. And what to him is the resultant enfranchisement? What are the spacious issues of the glorious work? Do you recall those wonderful sentences, scattered here and there about the apostle's writings, and beginning with the words "but now"? Each sentence proclaims the end of the dominion of night, and unveils some glimpse of the new created day. "But now!" It is a phrase that heralds a great deliverance! "But now, apart from the law the righteousness of God hath been manifested," "But now, being made free from sin and become servants to God." "But now in Christ Jesus ye that once were far off are made nigh in the blood of Christ." "But now are ye light in the Lord." "Now, no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus." These represent no thin abstractions. To Paul the realities of which they speak were more real than the firm and solid earth. And is it any wonder that a man with such a magnificent sense of the reality of the redemptive works of Christ, who felt the eternal purpose throbbing in the dark background and abyss of time, who conceived it operating upon our race in floods of grace and glory, and who realized in his own immediate consciousness the varied wealth of the resultant emancipation--is it any wonder that for this man a new day had dawned, and the birds had begun to sing and the flowers to bloom, and a sunny optimism had taken possession of his heart, which found expression in an assured and rejoicing hope? I look abroad again over the record of this man's life and teachings, if perchance I may discover the secrets of his abiding optimism, and I am profoundly imprest by his living sense of the reality and greatness of his present resources. "By Christ redeemed!" That is not a grand finale; it is only a glorious inauguration. "By Christ redeemed; in Christ restored"; it is with these dynamics of restoration that his epistles are so wondrously abounding. In almost every other sentence he suggests a dynamic which he can count upon as his friend. Paul's mental and spiritual outlook comprehended a great army of positive forces laboring in the interests of the kingdom of God. His conception of life was amazingly rich in friendly dynamics! I do not wonder that such a wealthy consciousness was creative of a triumphant optimism. Just glance at some of the apostle's auxiliaries: "Christ liveth in me!" "Christ liveth in me! He breathes through all my aspirations. He thinks through all my thinking. He wills through all my willing. He loves through all my loving. He travails in all my labors. He works within me 'to will and to do of his good pleasure.'" That is the primary faith of the hopeful life. But see what follows in swift and immediate succession. "If Christ is in you, the spirit is life." "The spirit is life!" And therefore you find that in the apostle's thought dispositions are powers. They are not passive entities. They are positive forces vitalizing and energizing the common life of men. My brethren, I am persuaded there is a perilous leakage in this department of our thought. We are not bold enough in our thinking concerning spiritual realities. We do not associate with every mode of the consecrated spirit the mighty energy of God. We too often oust from our practical calculations some of the strongest and most aggressive allies of the saintly life. Meekness is more than the absence of self-assertion; it is the manifestation of the mighty power of God. To the Apostle Paul love exprest more than a relationship. It was an energy productive of abundant labors. Faith was more than an attitude. It was an energy creative of mighty endeavor, Hope was more than a posture. It was an energy generative of a most enduring patience. All these are dynamics, to be counted as active allies, cooperating in the ministry of the kingdom. And so the epistles abound in the recital of mystic ministries at work. The Holy Spirit worketh! Grace worketh! Faith worketh! Love worketh! Hope worketh! Prayer worketh! And there are other allies robed in less attractive garb. "Tribulation worketh!" "This light affliction worketh." "Godly sorrow worketh!" On every side of him the apostle conceives cooperative and friendly powers. "The mountain is full of horses and chariots of fire round about him." He exults in the consciousness of abounding resources. He discovers the friends of God in things which find no place among the scheduled powers of the world. He finds God's raw material in the world's discarded waste. "Weak things," "base things," "things that are despised," "things that are not," mere nothings; among these he discovers the operating agents of the mighty God. Is it any wonder that in this man, possessed of such a wealthy consciousness of multiplied resources, the spirit of a cheery optimism should be enthroned? With what stout confidence he goes into the fight! He never mentions the enemy timidly. He never seeks to underestimate his strength. Nay, again and again he catalogs all possible antagonisms in a spirit of buoyant and exuberant triumph. However numerous the enemy, however subtle and aggressive his devices, however towering and well-established the iniquity, however black the gathering clouds, so sensitive is the apostle to the wealthy resources of God that amid it all he remains a sunny optimist, "rejoicing in hope," laboring in the spirit of a conqueror even when the world was exulting in his supposed discomfiture and defeat. And, finally, in searching for the springs of this man's optimism, I place alongside his sense of the reality of redemption and his wealthy consciousness of present resources his impressive sense of the reality of future glory. Paul gave himself time to think of heaven, of the home of God, of his own home when time should be no more. He loved to contemplate "the glory that shall be revealed." He mused in wistful expectancy of the day "when Christ who is our life shall be manifested," and when we also "shall be manifested with him in glory." He pondered the thought of death as "gain," as transferring him to conditions in which he would be "at home with the Lord," "with Christ, which is far better." He looked for "the blest hope and appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ," and he contemplated "that great day" as the "henceforth," which would reveal to him the crown of righteousness and glory. Is any one prepared to dissociate this contemplation from the apostle's cheery optimism? Is not rather the thought of coming glory one of its abiding springs? Can we safely exile it from our moral and spiritual culture? I know that this particular contemplation is largely absent from modern religious life, and I know the nature of the recoil in which our present impoverishment began. "Let us hear less about the mansions of the blest and more about the housing of the poor!" Men revolted against an effeminate contemplation, which had run to seed, in favor of an active philanthropy which sought the enrichment of the common life. But, my brethren, pulling a plant up is not the only way of saving it from running to seed. You can accomplish by a wise restriction what is wastefully done by severe destruction. I think we have lost immeasurably by the uprooting, in so many lives, of this plant of heavenly contemplation. We have built on the erroneous assumption that the contemplation of future glory inevitably unfits us for the service of man. It is an egregious and destructive mistake. I do not think that Richard Baxter's labors were thinned or impoverished by his contemplation of "The Saint's Everlasting Rest." When I consider his mental output, his abundant labors as father-confessor to a countless host, his pains and persecutions and imprisonments, I can not but think he received some of the powers of his optimistic endurance from contemplations such as he counsels in his incomparable book. "Run familiarly through the streets of the heavenly Jerusalem; visit the patriarchs and prophets, salute the apostles, and admire the armies of martyrs; lead on the heart from street to street, bring it into the palace of the great king; lead it, as it were, from chamber to chamber. Say to it, 'Here must I lodge, here must I die, here must I praise, here must I love and be loved. My tears will then be wiped away, my groans be turned to another tune, my cottage of clay be changed to this palace, my prison rags to these splendid robes'; 'for the former things are passed away.'" I can not think that Samuel Rutherford impoverished his spirit or deadened his affections, or diminished his labors by mental pilgrimages such as he counsels to Lady Cardoness: "Go up beforehand and see your lodging. Look through all your Father's rooms in heaven. Men take a sight of the lands ere they buy them. I know that Christ hath made the bargain already; but be kind to the house ye are going to, and see it often." I can not think that this would imperil the fruitful optimisms of the Christian life. I often examine, with peculiar interest, the hymn-book we use at Carr's Lane. It was compiled by Dr. Dale. Nowhere else can I find the broad perspective of his theology and his primary helpmeets in the devotional life as I find them there. And is it altogether unsuggestive that under the heading of "Heaven" is to be found one of the largest sections of the book. A greater space is given to "Heaven" than is given to "Christian duty." Is it not significant of what a great man of affairs found needful for the enkindling and sustenance of a courageous hope? And among the hymns are many which have helped to nourish the sunny endeavors of a countless host. There is a land of pure delight Where saints immortal reign; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. What are these, arrayed in white, Brighter than the noonday sun? Foremost of the suns of light, Nearest the eternal throne. Hark! hark, my soul! Angelic songs are swelling O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat shore. Angelic songs to sinful men are telling Of that new life when sin shall be no more. My brethren, depend upon it, we are not impoverished by contemplations such as these. They take no strength out of the hand, and they put much strength and buoyancy into the heart. I proclaim the contemplation of coming glory as one of the secrets of the apostle's optimism which enabled him to labor and endure in the confident spirit of rejoicing hope. These, then, are some of the springs of Christian optimism; some of the sources in which we may nourish our hope in the newer labors of a larger day: a sense of the glory of the past in a perfected redemption, a sense of the glory of the present in our multiplied resources, a sense of the glory of tomorrow in the fruitful rest of our eternal home. O blest hope! with this elate Let not our hearts be desolate; But, strong in faith and patience, wait Until He come! GENERAL INDEX INDEX TO PREACHERS AND SERMONS Abbott, Lyman, The Divinity in Humanity Abraham's Imitators; or The Activity of Faith. By Thomas Hooker Affection, The Expulsive Power of a New. By Thomas Chalmers Argument, The, from Experience. By Robert William Dale Arnold, Thomas, Alive in God Ascension, The, of Christ. By Girolamo Savonarola Assurance in God. By George Adam Smith Atonement, Eternal. By Roswell Dwight Hitchcock Atonement, The Prominence of the. By Edwards Amasa Park Augustine, St., The Recovery of Sight by the Blind Bacon, Leonard Woolsey, God Indwelling Basil "The Great," The Creation of the World Baxter, Richard, Making Light of Christ and Salvation Beecher, H.W., Immortality Beecher, Lyman, The Government of God Desirable Bible, The, vs. Infidelity. By Frank Wakely Gunsaulus Blair, Hugh, The Hour and the Event of All Time Blind, The Recovery of Sight by the. By St. Augustine Bones, The Valley of Dry. By Frederick Denison Maurice Bossuet, Jacques Benigne, The Death of the Grande Condé Bounty, The Royal. By Alexander McKenzie Bourdaloue, Louis, The Passion of Christ Broadus, John A., Let us Have Peace with God Brooks, Memorial Discourse on Phillips. By Henry Codman Potter Brooks, Phillips, The Pride of Life Bunyan, John, The Heavenly Footman Burrell, David James, How to Become a Christian Bushnell, Horace, Unconscious Influence Cadman, S. Parkes, A New Day for Missions Caird, John, Religion in Common Life Calvin, John, Enduring Persecution for Christ Campbell, Alexander, The Missionary Cause Carlyle, Thomas,--In Memoriam. By Arthur Penrhyn Stanley Carpenter, William Boyd, The Age of Progress Chalmers, Thomas, The Expulsive Power of a New Affection Charming, William Ellery, The Character of Christ Chapin, Edwin Hubbell Nicodemus: The Seeker after Religion Character, The, of Christ. By William Ellery Charming Christ and Salvation, Making Light of. By Richard Baxter Christ Among the Common Things of Life. By William James Dawson Christ Before Pilate--Pilate Before Christ. By William Mackergo Taylor Christ, Enduring Persecution for. By John Calvin Christ, The Ascension of. By Girolamo Savonarola Christ, The Character of. By William Ellery Channing Christ, The First Temptation of. By John Knox Christ, The Loneliness of. By Frederick William Robertson Christ, The Passion of. By Louis Bourdaloue Christ--_The_ Question of the Centuries. By Robert Stuart MacArthur Christ, The Spirit of. By Charles H. Fowler Christ, What Think ye of. By Dwight Lyman Moody Christ, Zeal in the Cause of. By William Morley Punshon Christ's Advent to Judgment. By Jeremy Taylor Christ's Real Body not in the Eucharist. By John Wyclif Christ's Resurrection an Image of our New Life. By Frederich Ernst Schleiermacher Christian, How to Become a. By David James Burrell Christian Victory. By Christopher Newman Hall Christianity, The Mysteries of. By Alexander Vinet Christianity, The Transient and Permanent in. By Theodore Parker Chrysostom, Excessive Grief at the Death of Friends Church, The Mother. By Ernest Roland Wilberforce Church, The Triumph of the. By Henry Edward Manning Clifford, John, The Forgiveness of Sins Colonization, The, of the Desert. By Edward Everett Hale Common Life, Religion in. By John Caird Common Things of Life, Christ Among the. By William James Dawson Condé, The Funeral Sermon on the Death of the Grande. By Jacques Benigne Bossuet Creation, The, of the World. By Basil Creation, Work in the Groaning. By Frederick William Farrar Crosby, Howard, The Prepared Worm Cuyler, Theodore Ledyard, The Value of Life Dale, Robert William, The Argument from Experience Day, A, in the Life of Jesus of Nazareth, By Francis Wayland Dawson, William James, Christ Among the Common Things of Life Death, Glorification Through. By Francis Landey Patton Desert, The Colonization of the. By Edward Everett Hale Divinity, The, in Humanity. By Lyman Abbott Drummond, Henry, The Greatest Thing in the World Dwight, Timothy, The Sovereignty of God Earth, The Shaking of the Heavens and the. By Charles Kingsley Education and the Future of Religion. By John Lancaster Spalding Edwards, Jonathan, Spiritual light Elect, The Small Number of the. By Jean Baptiste Massillon Eternal Atonement. By Roswell Dwight Hitchcock Eucharist, Christ's Real Body not in the. By John Wyclif Evans, Christmas, The Fall and Recovery of Man Event, The Hour and the, of all Time. By Hugh Blair Experience. By Alexander Whyte Experience, The Argument from. By Robert William Dale Expulsive Power, The, of a New Affection. By Thomas Chalmers Faith, Constructive. By Charles Henry Parkhurst Faith, The Activity of; or, Abraham's Imitators. By Thomas Hooker Faith, The Story of a Disciple's. By Henry Scott Holland Fall, The, and Recovery of Man. By Christmas Evans Farrar, Frederick William, Work in the Groaning Creation Fénelon, Francois de Salignac de la Mothe, The Saints Converse with God Footman, The Heavenly. By John Bunyan Forgiveness, The, of Sins. By John Clifford. Fowler, Charles H., The Spirit of Christ Funeral Sermon, The, on the Death of the Grande Condé, by Jacques Benigne Bossuet Gethsemane, The Rose Garden of God. By William Robertson Nicoll Gladden, Washington, The Prince of Life Glorification Through Death. By Francis Landey Patton God, Alive in. By Thomas Arnold God Calling to Man. By Charles John Vaughan God Indwelling. By Leonard Woolsey Bacon. God, Marks of Love to. By Robert Hall God, Preparation for Consulting the Oracles of. By Edward Irving God, The Government of, Desirable. By Lyman Beecher God, The Image of, in Man. By Robert South God, The Saints Converse with. By Francois Fénelon God, The Sovereignty of. By Timothy Dwight God the Unwearied Guide. By Newell Dwight Hillis God's Love to Fallen Man. By John Wesley God's Will the End of Life. By John Henry Newman Gordon, George Angier, Man in the Image of God Government, The, of God Desirable. By Lyman Beecher Grace, The Method of. By George Whitefield Greatest Thing, The, in the World. By Henry Drummond Grief, Excessive, at the Death of Friends. By Chrysostom Guide, God the Unwearied. By Newell Dwight Hillis Gunsaulus, Frank Wakely, The Bible vs. Infidelity Guthrie, Thomas, The New Heart Hale, Edward Everett, The Colonization of the Desert Hall, Christopher Newman, Christian Victory Hall, John, Liberty only in Truth Hall, Robert, Marks of Love to God Heart, The New. By Thomas Guthrie Heavens, The Shaking of the, and the Earth. By Charles Kingsley Hillis, Newell Dwight, God the Unwearied Guide Hitchcock, Roswell Dwight, The Eternal Atonement Holland, Henry Scott, The Story of a Disciple's Faith Holy Spirit, Influence of the. By Henry Parry Liddon Hooker, Thomas, The Activity of Faith; or Abraham's Imitators Hour, The, and the Event of all Time. By Hugh Blair Howe, John, The Redeemer's Tears over Lost Souls Humanity, The Divinity in. By Lyman Abbott Ideal of Life, The Perfect. By George Campbell Morgan Immortality. By H.W. Beecher Infidelity, The Bible vs. By Frank Wakely Gunsaulus Influence, Unconscious. By Horace Bushnell Influences of the Holy Spirit. By Henry Parry Liddon Inheritance, The Heavenly. By John Summerfield Irving, Edward, Preparation for Consulting the Oracles of God Jefferson, Charles Edward, The Reconciliation Jesus of Nazareth, A Day in the Life of. By Francis Wayland Jowett, John Henry, Apostolic Optimism Judgment, Christ's Advent to. By Jeremy Taylor Judgment, The Reversal of Human. By James B. Mozley Justification, The Method and Fruits of. By Martin Luther Kingsley, Charles, The Shaking of the Heavens and the Earth Knox, John, The First Temptation of Christ Knox-Little, William John, Thirst Satisfied Latimer, Hugh, Christian Love Life, Christ's Resurrection an Image of our New By Frederich Ernst Schleiermacher Life, God's Will the End of. By John Henry Newman Life, The Perfect Ideal of. By George Campbell Morgan Life, The Pride of. By Phillips Brooks Life, The Prince of. By Washington Gladden Life, The Value of. By Theodore Ledyard Cuyler Liberty only in Truth. By John Hall Liddon, Henry Parry, Influences of the Holy Spirit Light, Spiritual. By Jonathan Edwards Loneliness, The, of Christ. By Frederick William Robertson Lord, The Resurrection of Our. By Matthew Simpson Lorimer, George C. The Fall of Satan Love, Christian. By Hugh Latimer Love, Marks of, to God. By Robert Hall Luther, Martin, The Method and Fruits of Justification MacArthur, Robert Stuart, Christ--The Question of the Centuries McKenzie, Alexander, The Royal Bounty Maclaren, Alexander, The Pattern of Service Macleod, Norman, The True Christian Ministry Magee, William Connor, The Miraculous Stilling of the Storm Man, God Calling to. By Charles John Vaughan Man, God's Love to Fallen. By John Wesley Man in the Image of God. By George Angier Gordon Man, The Fall and Recovery of. By Christmas Evans Man, The Image of God in. By Robert South Manhood, The Meaning of. By Henry Van Dyke Manning, Henry Edward, The Triumph of the Church Martineau, James, Parting Words Mason, John Mitchell, Messiah's Throne Massillon, Jean Baptiste, The Small Number of the Elect Maurice, Frederick Denison, The Valley of Dry Bones Melanchthon, Philip, The Safety of the Virtuous Memorial Discourse on Phillips Brooks. By Henry Codman Potter Messiah's Throne. By John Mitchell Mason Ministry, The True Christian. By Norman Macleod Missions, A New Day for. By. S. Parkes Cadman Missionary Cause, The. By Alexander Campbell Missionary Work, The Permanent Motive in. By Richard S. Storrs Monster, A Bloody. By Thomas DeWitt Talmage Moody, Dwight Lyman, What Think ye of Christ? Morgan, George Campbell, The Perfect Ideal of Life Motive, The Permanent, in Missionary Work. By Richard S. Storrs Mozley, James B., The Reversal of Human Judgment Mysteries. The, of Christianity. By Alexander Vinet Newman, John Henry, God's Will the End of Life Nicodemus: The Seeker after Religion. By Edwin Hubbell Chapin Nicoll, William Robertson, Gethsemane, The Rose Garden of God Optimism, Apostolic. By John Henry Jowett Optimism. By John Watson Oracles, Preparation for Consulting the, of God. By Edward Irving Park, Edwards Amasa, The Prominence of the Atonement Parker, Joseph, A Word to the Weary Parker, Theodore, The Transient and Permanent in Christianity Parkhurst, Charles Henry, Constructive Faith Passion, The, of Christ. By Louis Bourdaloue Patton, Francis Landey, Glorification Through Death Paul Before Felix and Drusilla. By Jacques Saurin Peace with God, Let us Have. By John A. Broadus Permanent, The Transient and the, in Christianity. By Theodore Parker Persecution for Christ, Enduring, John Calvin Pilate Before Christ--Christ Before Pilate. By William Mackergo Taylor Potter, Henry Codman, Memorial Discourse on Phillips Brooks Pride, The, of Life. By Phillips Brooks Prince, The, of Life. By Washington Gladden Progress, The Age of. By William Boyd Carpenter Punshon, William Morley, Zeal in the Cause of Christ Reconciliation, The. By Charles E. Jefferson Recovery, The Fall and, of Man. By Christmas Evans Redeemer's Tears, The, over Lost Souls. By John Howe Religion, Education and the Future of. By John Lancaster Spaldin Religion in Common Life. By John Caird Religion, Nicodemus: The Seeker after. By Edwin Hubbell Chapin Resurrection, Christ's, an Image of our New-Life. By Frederick Ernst Schleiermacher Resurrection, The, of Our Lord. By Matthew Simpson Resurrection, The Reasonableness of a. By John Tillotson Reversal, The, of Human Judgment. By James B. Mozley Robertson, Frederick William, The Loneliness of Christ Royal Bounty, the. By Alexander McKenzie Sackcloth, The Transfigured. By William L. Watkinson Saints Converse with God, The. By Francis Fénelon Salvation, Making Light of Christ and. By Richard Baxter Satan, The Fall of. By George C. Lorimer Saurin, Jacques, Paul Before Felix and Drusilla Savonarola, Girolamo, The Ascension of Christ Schleiermacher, Frederick Ernst, Christ's Resurrection an Image of our New Life Seiss, Joseph A., The Wonderful Testimonies Service, The Pattern of. By Alexander Maclaren Shaking, The, of the Heavens and the Earth. By Charles Kingsley Sight, The Recovery of, by the Blind By St Augustine Simpson, Matthew, The Resurrection of Our Lord. Sins, The Forgiveness of By John Clifford Smith, George Adam Assurance in God Songs in the Night By Charles Haddon Spurgeon Souls, The Redeemer's Tears Over Lost By John Howe South, Robert, The Image of God in Man Sovereignty, The of God By Timothy Dwight Spalding, John Lancaster, Education and the Future of Religion Spiritual Light By Jonathan Edwards Spurgeon, Charles Haddon Songs in the Night Stalker, James Temptation Stanley, Arthur Penrhyn, In Memoriam--Thomas Carlyle Stilling of the Storm, The Miraculous By William Connor Magee Storm, The Miraculous Stilling of the By William Connor Magee Storrs, Richard S. The Permanent Motive in Missionary Work Summerfield, John The Heavenly Inheritance Talmage, Thomas DeWitt A Bloody Monster Taylor, Jeremy Christ's Advent to Judgment Taylor, William Mackergo Christ Before Pilate--Pilate Before Christ Temptation By James Stalker Temptation, The First, of Christ By John Knox Testimonies The Wonderful By Joseph A Seiss Thirst Satisfied By William John Knox Little Time, The Hour and the Event of all By Hugh Blair Tillotson, John, The Reasonableness of a Resurrection Transfigured Sackcloth, The By William L. Watkinson Transient, The, and Permanent in Christianity. By Theodore Parker Triumph, The, of the Church. By Henry Edward Manning Truth, Liberty Only in. By John Hall Valley, The, of Dry Bones By Frederick Derrison Maurice Van Dyke, Henry, The Meaning of Manhood Vaughan, Charles John, God Calling to Man Victory, Christian By Christopher Newman Hall Vinet, Alexander, The Mysteries of Christianity Virtuous, The Safety of the. By Philip Melanchthon Voice, I am a. By Charles Wagner Wagner, Charles, I am a Voice Watkinson, William L, The Transfigured Sackcloth Watson, John, Optimism Wayland, Francis, A Day in the Life of Jesus of Nazareth Weary, A Word to the. By Joseph Parker Wesley, John, God's Love to Fallen Man. Whitefield, George, The Method of Grace Whyte, Alexander, Experience Wilberforce, Ernest Roland, The Mother Church Words, Parting By James Martineau Work in the Groaning Creation. By Frederick William Farrar World, The Greatest Thing in the. By Henry Drummond Worm, The Prepared. By Howard Crosby INDEX TO TEXTS VOLUME Genesis i., 2 I i., 27 II i., 31 VII i., 31 VII iii., 9 VI xxxvii., 33 VIII I Kings x., 13 VII x., 36 IX II Kings vi., 1,2 IX Esther iv., 2 VIII Job xxxiii., 4 IX xxxv., 10 VIII Psalms xvi., 16 X xlii., 2 VIII cxix., 45 VII cxix., 129 VII Proverbs xi., 30 IV Isaiah xl., 1-31 X l, 4 VII lvii., 15 VII Jeremiah vi., 14 III x., 23 III Ezekiel xxxvi., 26 V xxxvii., 1-3 V Jonah iv., 7 VII Matthew iv., 1 I vi., 10 IV viii., 25, 26 VII xii., 12 IX xiii., 24 VI xvi., 17 III xvii., 5 IV xix., 30 V xx., 30 I xxii., 5 II xxii., 32 IV xxii., 42 VIII xxii., 42 IX xxvi., 26 I xxvii., 22 VII xxviii., 19 IX Mark vii., 33 VII xvi., 15 VI Luke iv. 27 III ix., 10-17 IV x., 18 VIII xix., 41, 42 II xxi., 33 V xxiii., 27, 28 II xxiv., 51 I John i., 23 X iii. 1, 2 VI iii., 8 VII v., 39 IV v., 42 III vi., 38 IV vi., 63 VIII vi., 64 IX viii., 28-30 X x., 28 I x., 34-36 VIII xii., 24 IX xiv. 27 V xv., 12 I xvi., 31, 32 VI xvii., 1 III xvii., 20, 21 V xx., 8 IV xx., 8 IX xxi., 9, 12 X Acts iii., 15 VIII xix., 23 IX xxiv., 24, 25 III xxvi., 8 II xxvi., 8 IX Romans iv., 12 II v., 1 IX v., 4 VIII v., 15 III v., 15 III vi., 4 III viii., 9 VIII viii., 22 VII xii., 11 VI xii., 12 X I Corinthians ii., 2 V ii., 9 IV ix., 24 II xiii., X xiv., 10 X xv., 3 X xv., 19 VI xv., 20 V xx., 13 IX II Corinthians ii., 14-16 V v., 10 II v., 13-15 VI Galatians iv., 1-7 I vi., 14 X I Thessalonians iv., 13 I v., 17 II Hebrews i., 18 III xii., 26-29 VI xiii., 13 I II Peter i., 11 IV I John, ii., 16 VIII v., 15 IV Revelations ii., 17 VI xiii., 8 VI xxii., 3 VII Apostles' Creed VIII 
18329	----	SERMON XXV. FROM REV. MR. PATTON. Vol. 2. No. 6. Nov. 1827. THE NATIONAL PREACHER: OR _ORIGINAL MONTHLY SERMONS_ FROM LIVING MINISTERS. EDITED BY REV. AUSTIN DICKINSON, _No. 144 Nassau-street,_ NEW-YORK. * * * * * SPECIAL NOTICE.--Subscribers in cities, as well as in the country, are expected to _send in_ their payments, agreeably to terms stated on the next page, either to the Editor, or to some Agent named on the last page. To candid men this notice need not be repeated. * * * * * POSTAGE. This Periodical contains but one sheet: the monthly Postage is, of course, _One Cent and a half_, not over 100 miles; _Two Cents and a half_, any distance over 100. * * * * * NEW-YORK: PRINTED BY J. & J. HARPER, 82 CLIFF-STREET. 1827. Persons receiving this gratis, are desired to give it circulation. TERMS OF THE NATIONAL PREACHER. I. Each Monthly Number to contain one long Sermon, or two of moderate length, on superfine paper. The Volume to commence annually the last week in June. II. 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LUKE xxiv. 47.--_And that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among all nations_, BEGINNING AT JERUSALEM. Here the apostles receive from Christ a commission to commence in one of the chief cities of the world the great business of preaching the gospel to mankind. The fulfilment of prophecy required them to begin at Jerusalem. "Out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem." "And it shall be in that day, that living waters shall go out from Jerusalem." But there were other and more special reasons. It was at Jerusalem that the death and resurrection of the Son of God took place:--facts, on which Christianity rested all its claims: and it was fit that the enemies of truth should have every possible advantage for controverting those facts. In commencing at Jerusalem, an immediate and striking illustration was also afforded of the forgiving spirit of Christianity--'Go at once, and preach unto these mine enemies repentance and remission of sins. Let them have the opportunity of salvation through my blood--even that blood which their own wicked hands have shed.' This direction to the first preachers of the cross, to begin at Jerusalem, suggests the general thought, THAT IT BECOMES CHRISTIANS, IN ALL AGES, TO MAKE SPECIAL EFFORTS FOR THE CONVERSION OF CITIES AND LARGE TOWNS. This thought may be illustrated and enforced, from the example and instructions of Christ and his apostles; from the early and signal visitations of the Spirit on cities; from the power with which Satan reigns in them; and from their relative importance, and influence on the world. I. _Our Saviour devoted his personal ministry very much to cities and large towns._ Says Matthew, "And it came to pass, when Jesus had made an end of commanding his twelve disciples, he departed thence to teach and to preach in their cities." Mark speaks of Him as follows: "And in the morning, rising up a great while before day, he departed into a solitary place, and there prayed: and Simon, and they that were with him, followed after him. And when they had found him, they said unto him, All men seek for thee. And he said unto them, Let us go into the next towns, that I may preach there also: for therefore came I forth." Luke informs us, that, on another occasion, He said unto those who sought him, and who urged him that he should not depart from them, "I must preach the kingdom of God to other cities also, for therefore am I sent." From many other passages of Scripture, also, we learn of Christ's preaching in cities. "And behold, the whole city came out to meet Jesus." "And all the city was moved, saying, Who is this?" "And many of the Samaritans of that city believed on him." He is also found in Jericho, and in Capernaum. His wonders are made known at Chorazin and Bethsaida. His walks are along the shores, where commerce and trade had congregated vast multitudes. Jerusalem he repeatedly visits--especially on the anniversaries of religious festivals; when his instructions might fall upon the ear of assembled thousands; and through them be conveyed to every town and village of the land. On one occasion, when he was come near to the city, "he beheld and wept over it, saying, if thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong to thy peace; but now are they hid from thine eyes.--Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!" On another occasion, it is said, "Then began he to upbraid the cities, wherein most of his mighty works were done, because they repented not. Wo unto thee, Chorazin; wo unto thee, Bethsaida; for if the mighty works which were done in you, had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. And thou Capernaum, which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be brought down to hell; for if the mighty works which have been done in thee, had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day. But I say unto you, that it shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom, in the day of judgment, than for thee." Thus it appears that the All-wise Saviour thought it proper to devote much of his ministry to cities and large towns. II. _Christ, in his instructions to his disciples, particularly directs their attention to cities and large towns._ "These twelve Jesus sent forth, and commanded them, saying, Into whatsoever city or town ye shall enter, inquire who in it is worthy; and there abide till ye go thence. And whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your words, when ye depart out of that house or city, shake off the dust of your feet. Verily, I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah, in the day of judgment, than for that city." How solemn, yet well defined were these instructions. How strongly must the twelve have been impressed with the importance of special exertion in large towns and cities. "After these things, the Lord appointed seventy also, and sent them two and two before his face, into every city and place, whither he himself would come. And he said unto them, Into whatsoever city ye enter, and they receive you, eat such things as are set before you, and heal the sick that are therein, and say unto them, the kingdom of God is come nigh unto you. But into whatsoever city ye enter, and they receive you not, go your ways out into the streets of the same, and say, even the very dust of your city, which cleaveth on us, we do wipe off against you. But I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable in that day for Sodom and Gomorrah, than for that city." Wherefore should so much stress be laid upon cities, unless it was peculiarly important that they should be converted? And wherefore so heavy a curse, unless the power of their example was great? But still more particular and urgent are his instructions--The disciples, when sent forth, were admonished that they would be "as sheep in the midst of wolves;"--that they would be exposed to many and severe trials. And surely, under such circumstances, human nature would plead, that, when persecuted in the city, they might turn to the less prejudiced inhabitants of the country. But no: the command is, "When they persecute you in one city, flee ye into another; for, verily, I say unto you, ye shall not have gone over the cities of Israel, till the Son of Man be come." It is true, that in the last great commission, in which the world was spread before them as the field, every limitation was taken off, save that they should begin at Jerusalem. Still the example of the apostles is worthy of notice. For whilst several of them continued for years in Jerusalem,--notwithstanding the persecutions which they experienced--others went forth, and immediately preached the gospel of their ascended Saviour in other great cities of the world. Paul and Barnabas are found at Antioch, the capital of Pisidia. From Antioch they went to Iconium, the metropolis of Lyconia. Thence to Derbe, another city of Lyconia. In that embassy, they also preached at Lystra, and Perga, and many other cities. Soon after this, Paul said unto Barnabas, "Let us go again, and visit our brethren in every city where we have preached the word of the Lord, and see how they do." Paul expressed an ardent desire to be at Jerusalem on the feast-days:--"For he hasted, if it were possible for him, to be at Jerusalem, the day of Pentecost;" for then thousands of strangers would be there assembled--"Parthians, Medes, and Elamites, and the dwellers of Mesopotamia," and of many other places. In Rome, too, that imperial city, did this apostle continue for two years, preaching the gospel of Christ. There he established a Christian church, to which he addressed the noblest epistle ever written. Of Philip it is recorded, that "passing through, he preached in all the cities, till he came to Cesarea." The apostles and disciples, then directed their attention very particularly to cities. III. _Cities were the theatres of the Holy Spirit's first and most illustrious achievements._ Open the book of the Acts, and mark how and where the Spirit of God accompanied the labours of the apostles. It was at Jerusalem, the city whose million voices had just before demanded the death of their Lord, and imprecated his blood upon their own heads, that the first and greatest effusion of the Holy Spirit took place. _There_ was spiritual wickedness in high places. There iniquity was strongly intrenched. The strong arm of the civil as well as ecclesiastical power was its defence; and human calculation could look for no visits of mercy. Still the Savior's command, to begin at Jerusalem, was obeyed. Nor was it long before that city was filled with the presence of the Most High--before the Spirit came down in power, and thousands were converted to Christ. But this is not a solitary case. At Antioch, also, the Spirit was poured out. Indeed, there are two places of this name mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles;--both visited in saving mercy. One, the capital of Syria, a city of great note. It was about ten miles in circumference; and, in population, wealth, and splendour, esteemed the third city of the age. Here Paul and Barnabas preached. Here the disciples were first called Christians. Here the Church continued long to flourish. Here the eloquent Chrysostom, at the close of the fourth century, preached with great power and success: and here the Holy Spirit descended. "Now they, which were scattered abroad, upon the persecution that arose about Stephen, travelled as far as Phenice, and Cyprus, and Antioch, preaching the word to none but the Jews only. And some of them were men of Cyprus and Cyrene, which, when they were come to Antioch, spake unto the Grecians, preaching the Lord Jesus. And the hand of the Lord was with them: and a great number believed and turned unto the Lord. Then tidings of these things came unto the ears of the Church which was in Jerusalem; and they sent forth Barnabas, that he should go as far as Antioch. Who, when he came and had seen the grace of God, was glad, and exhorted them all, that with purpose of heart they would cleave unto the Lord." So great was this work, so important this field of usefulness, that to secure the best assistance, "Barnabas departed to Tarsus to seek Saul; and when he had found him, he brought him unto Antioch. And it came to pass, that a whole year they assembled themselves with the church, and taught much people." So powerful was this work of God, as to demand, for a whole year, the special labours of two of his most favoured servants. The other Antioch, mentioned in the Acts, was the capital of Pisidia; a place where many things opposed the advance of holiness. But there also Paul and Barnabas laboured; and there souls were born into the kingdom. The record is, "They came to Antioch, in Pisidia, and went into the synagogue on the Sabbath day." And Paul preached of Jesus and the resurrection, and faithfully warned against lightly esteeming the work of God. "Beware, therefore, lest that come upon you, which is spoken in the prophets: Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish; for I work a work in your days, which ye shall in nowise believe though a man declare it unto you. And when the Jews were gone out of the synagogue, the Gentiles besought that these words might be preached unto them the next Sabbath. And the next Sabbath day came almost the whole city together, to hear the word of God. And when the Gentiles heard this, they were glad, and glorified the word of the Lord; and as many as were ordained to eternal life believed. And the word of the Lord was published throughout all the region, and the disciples were filled with joy and with the Holy Ghost." Ephesus, too, was visited by the Holy Spirit. This was one of the most famous cities of Asia Minor. By historians, it has been called the ornament of Asia--the greatest and most frequented emporium of the continent. Here stood one of the seven wonders of the world--the idolatrous temple of Diana. Paul paid two visits to this city: the first, a very short one. After some months, he returned, and continued for three years, and had great success. Many things opposed the influence of truth. Iniquity was deeply rooted: their established religion was a source of revenue; and countenanced them in unhallowed courses. But the Spirit of grace prevailed. The result was, "that many that believed, came, and confessed, and showed their deeds. Many of them, also, which used curious arts, brought their books together, and burned them before all men. And they counted the price of them, and found it fifty thousand pieces of silver;" or, according to our currency, nearly twenty-eight thousand dollars. Thus multitudes made a public renunciation of idolatry, and a public profession of their faith in Christ. "So mightily grew the word of God, and prevailed." The last city that we shall mention, as blessed with a revival, is Corinth, the capital of Achaia. Here stood the temple of Venus; for the support of whose costly and debasing services, a thousand human victims were continually kept!--The multitude in this city were given to a species of crime, most deadening to the conscience, and damning to the soul. Yet all this did not discourage the intrepid apostle. For, about the year of our Lord fifty-two, he came to Corinth, and "reasoned in the synagogue every Sabbath day, and persuaded the Jews and the Greeks." The persecuting spirit of the Jews was marshalled against him. Yet he was successful, for _God was with him_. "Crispus, the chief ruler of the synagogue, believed on the Lord with all his house; and many of the Corinthians, hearing, believed and were baptized. Then spake the Lord to Paul in the night by a vision, Be not afraid, but speak, and hold not thy peace, for I am with thee, and no man shall set on thee to hurt thee; for I have much people in this city." And so great was the work, and so important the station, that "he continued there a year and six months, teaching the word of God among them." Here a large church was gathered, to which he addressed two epistles. We could mention other ancient cities as blessed with revivals. We could tell you of Athens, the eye and glory of Greece; of Philippi, the chief city of Macedonia; of Iconium, "where a great multitude, both of the Jews and also of the Greeks, believed;" of Rome too, and many others; but we forbear, since enough is already before you to illustrate the position, that cities were the theatres of the Holy Spirit's first and most illustrious achievements. Indeed, what is the book of the Acts, but one continued history of revivals in cities and populous places? IV. _We should seek the conversion of Cities, because in them the Adversary reigns with peculiar power._ Experienced Generals bend their most powerful forces against those positions most strongly intrenched; well knowing, that if these are subdued, the courage of the enemy is daunted, his plans marred, and that what remains may fall an easy conquest. Why then should Christians leave to Satan the quiet dominion of cities? He would rather give up a thousand inland posts, than these strong holds of his empire. But, Oh, could he be dislodged from these, how paralyzed would be his arm--how feeble his resistance--how lost his influence! Would you see the power of Satan in cities? Cast your eye back upon the past. What were Sodom and Gomorrah? What were Tyre, and Sidon, and Ninevah? What was Babylon? What was Jerusalem in its latter days, when given up accursed of God? What were they, but sinks of pollution and fountains of ruin? And could we draw aside the curtains of darkness, what might we see in modern cities! Oh, the pollution, and dark waters, that are open to the eye of God! Oh, the thousand lures to vice! Oh, the frauds, the oppressions, the numberless wrongs, which break down the integrity of the young; which harden the middle-aged, and cover gray hairs with shame, and wretchedness, and ruin! Oh, the dissipations, over which custom has thrown an influence well nigh omnipotent! Oh, the tauntings, and the high looks, the stiff neck, and the contemptuous sneer, with which wealth and station conduct themselves towards the lowliness of Christian meekness! Oh, the power that nerves itself against holiness! Wealth and imposing splendour, eloquence and numbers, are in its ranks. Perjury and cruel mockings are among its weapons. Oh, the chains of darkness and gates of death, with which the strong man armed here holds his prisoners! How loudly then do these demand the commiseration and special effort of those, who would proclaim liberty to the captives, and life to the dead! And for the encouragement of the faithful, we add, V. _There are peculiar advantages for the promotion of Religion in cities._ God is wont to accompany the efforts of his people with special grace, whenever they are exposed to extraordinary hazards. So, where peculiar difficulties obstruct the advance of truth, there will also be found other circumstances, which, if properly seized, will greatly facilitate the work of reformation. In cities, ministers and good men can readily and effectually co-operate in plans of usefulness. The inhabitants of smaller towns and villages are too scattered to allow of ready co-operation; but in our cities, a few minutes may assemble many of those who love the Lord. The dangers which threaten, or the hopes which gladden, quickly circulate. The weakness of one portion may be readily sustained by the greater strength of some other portion. In the multitude of professing Christians, may be found men of wisdom, of wealth, of enterprise, of leisure, of devotedness; all of whose varied gifts and talents may be concentrated for good. Surely these are advantages peculiar to cities. Too long have we looked upon the might of opposing interests, and neglected the power which God hath given us. Too long have churches stood alone, and feebly exerted their separate influences. But in a union of the efforts of churches the increase of power may be immense; for whilst "one shall chase a thousand, two shall put ten thousand to flight." It is by the means which cities afford for ready co-operation, that Satan and his followers have in all ages achieved so much. _They_ make common cause. They suffer no differences to divide their strength; knowing "that an house divided against itself cannot stand." They combine their forces, in any plan which promises injury to the Christian interest. Cities furnish to Christians the very same opportunities for united effort, and thus present peculiar advantages. Again, cities also furnish advantages for individual exertion. Here a minister's influence may at once reach, not merely to his own congregation, but far beyond. Every month he is brought in contact with some thousands, who may be affected by his faithfulness. And under his influence, many benevolent and pious institutions may rise and shine to bless the world. But it is not to ministers alone, that cities present large fields for exertion. Private Christians also have abundant opportunities for usefulness. In the walks of business, the influence of one inflexibly just man is felt as far as his name is known. If Christians, in our cities, would conduct themselves agreeably to the Bible, how awful to the wicked would be their example! What reformations would be wrought among the worldly and profane! How many haunts of poverty and wretchedness would be searched out! How many souls, once in communion with the saints, would be brought back from their wanderings! How many children, rescued from vice, would be brought to the Sabbath school; and there, perhaps, be taught of God to become themselves angels of mercy! How many meetings for prayer and exhortation would every week be sustained among the poor and the wretched! How many of these degraded immortals might be rescued from temporal and eternal darkness, to become lights in the world, and stars in the kingdom of our Father's glory! What field then offers so rich and large an harvest to faithful labour? The same exertion, that would instruct hundreds in the country, may reach thousands in the city. Public sentiment has too long checked the movements of sympathy for these congregated thousands. A voice, almost unbroken, has sounded out; 'Peculiar and insuperable difficulties prevent a general revival in cities: such are the occupations, such the habits, such the temptations, and such the superabounding iniquity, that it were visionary to hope for any general and powerful work of mercy.' Well, then, had we not better give all up; and let human nature here sink into its natural channels; and let multitudes before our eyes continue to crowd the gates of the second death! O God, forbid such cowardice, cruelty, and treachery in thy servants! No; we will not thus surrender immortals. While there is grace or even nature in our hearts, we will not. We have, indeed, heard of difficulties, till the heart is pained, and the soul is wearied. But where are these insuperable difficulties to be found? Not in the Scriptures of God, surely; not in the result of apostolic labours; but in the unbelief and inaction of modern Christians. "God is no more hostile to cities than to villages: his Spirit is as free, and his offers of salvation as full, to the people of the crowded city, as of the open country." Let the advantages then be embraced. Let the power be concentrated. Let the sacramental host arise; and the work is done. And instead of being overwhelmed with shame and deserved reproach, we may joyfully say to such as pass by; "Walk about Zion, and go round about her: tell the towers thereof; mark ye well her bulwarks, consider her palaces; that ye may tell it to the generation following. For this God is our God for ever and ever." "Then the sons also of them that afflicted Zion shall come bending unto her; and all they that despised her shall bow themselves down at the soles of her feet; and they shall call her the City of the Lord--the Zion of the Holy One of Israel." VI. _A sixth reason for special efforts in behalf of Cities is, the influence which they exert on the country and on the world._ Look to any nation, whether ancient or modern; throw the map before you; fix your eye upon the spots that bear rule; that command the attention of the enterprising, and busy the thoughts of statesmen. You have fixed it upon the cities of the world. Where was the strength of Italy, if not in Rome, once mistress of the world? Where the strength of Greece, if not in Athens, the mother of arts and refinement? And where is the strength of our Republic, if not in our cities and large towns? There talent in every art and profession is fostered, and exerts peculiar influence. There wealth concentrates its millions upon millions, to exert extensively a blasting or brightening influence on society. There the press daily sends out its thousands and its tens of thousands of winged messengers, to excite the passions, to influence the opinions, to control the energies of a nation. Powerful as is this engine, for corrupting or sanctifying the people, who does not know that its munitions and magazines of strength are placed principally in cities; and that the character which the press there sustains is diffused throughout the land? In cities, commerce is concentrated. The products of the soil flow from every county, town, and village, to the cities; and thence they are distributed to the world. The riches, the luxuries, the products of other climes and nations are brought to cities, and thence distributed through the land. How manifest then, that cities must exert a mighty influence on the country and on the world. Who, that reflects on their extended intercourse, does not know, that they regulate the prices of commodities; that their fashions are imitated; that their maxims of trade are common law; and that their moral habits and opinions, good or bad, have an influence on the whole community? Their influence is great, whether we consider them in a moral or political point of view. The capture of a city has decided the destiny of nation. When Babylon was taken, a mighty empire was given to the invader. When Jerusalem was vanquished, all Judea was subdued. When ill-fated France was tossed with revolutions and counter-revolutions, the possession of her metropolis gave to either party the supreme command. Now suppose that all this influence of cities is of a worldly, immoral, irreligious character; what must be its blasting power on the general interests of religion! It was when the pretended successor of Peter established his authority in Rome, that that mystical Babylon became "the mother of harlots," and "made the nations drunk with the wine of the wrath of her fornications." And not until the angel shall "cry, with a mighty and strong voice, _Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen_," will the strong man armed be vanquished, and the earth be encompassed with glory. Not until the evil influence of cities shall be arrested, will the mighty obstacles to the world's redemption be removed. How immeasurably important then, that great efforts be made for their conversion; and how merciful in God to destroy such of them as will not repent. Oh, it was mercy infinite, that rained down fire upon Sodom, and poured it heavily upon Gomorrah; and thus saved millions from the contagion of their wickedness! But suppose that all the influence of cities were of an heavenly character--suppose the intelligence could be circulated along all our navigable rivers and canals--suppose it could be communicated from village to village, and from family to family, throughout the country, that the Spirit of God, as on the day of Pentecost, had come down in awful majesty and power among us; that all our men of business, and youth of folly, had been arrested in their worldly career; that all our theatres and resorts for vain pleasure had been forsaken; that our temples were crowded and overflowing with devout worshippers, and anxious inquirers; that the universal voice of our city's population had become, What shall we do, that we may glorify God and extend his kingdom? Suppose, I say, that this mighty change in our city could be told throughout the country; who can estimate the overwhelming influence it would carry along with it? Where is the solitary village that would not feel the impulse, and have its eye and heart lifted to Heaven, in view of the bright cloud of incense, ascending from these hundred temples, and these thrice ten thousand family altars? And to extend our view still further; suppose that every city of our land--that every city of the world--should experience such a change; what almighty strength and zeal would it give to the Angel having the everlasting Gospel to publish! How soon would the universal acclamation of mankind be, "Glory, and honour, and power be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne!" And how soon would that blessed voice be heard from the heaven of heavens, "The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of the Lord, and his Christ; and he shall reign for ever and ever!" These are not mere pictures of the imagination. The realities are at hand. And the influence of cities, in introducing them, must be felt. For "they of the city shall flourish like the grass of the earth." "The name of the city from that day shall be, _The Lord is there_." "Thus saith the Lord of hosts, it shall yet come to pass, that there shall come people, and the inhabitants of many cities; and the inhabitants of one city shall go to another, saying, let us go speedily to pray before the Lord, and to seek the Lord of hosts." Thus the day shall yet be, when the presence and power of the Holy God in cities shall so absorb the affections, and command the energies of their inhabitants, that, throughout the land, they shall be known and celebrated, not for their wealth, their splendour, their numbers, or their worldly enterprise, but _as the places where God has fixed his tabernacle_. Yes, the day shall yet come when the intercourse between cities shall be chiefly for purposes of religious improvement--when combinations for political intrigue, or mercantile speculation, which now waken such intensity of interest in our cities, shall dwindle to their comparative nothingness; and when the world's redemption shall assume its proper magnitude; and all be stimulated to more holy devotedness, and more heavenly effort. Oh, what a day, when all our increasing facilities of intercourse with the land, and with foreign nations, shall be used mainly for advancing that kingdom which consists in righteousness and peace!--when thousands shall prayerfully wait the arrival of every post, and hail the coming in of every vessel, for intelligence, not of this world's riches and glories, but of the glories and victories of Zion. Such, however, is the present power of the adversary in cities, that no ordinary effort will dispossess him. Still it must be done. The triumph of the cross, the salvation of the world can never be perfected without it. I know there are difficulties;--that cities do congregate vast assemblies of active depravity;--that they present multiplied enchantments to ruin;--that in every city wickedness displays a stern and lofty front. But I also know, that before the coming Spirit of God these obstacles shall melt away like wax, and vanish like smoke; "for strong is his hand and high is his right hand." It was when revivals prevailed in cities, that the gospel spread with such amazing rapidity: and so, when the Spirit shall again descend upon them, will the work of reformation move forward with such power and grandeur, as shall make manifest that God is in Zion; "that the chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thousands of angels;" and that "the Lord is among them, as in Sinai, in the holy place." Let all, then, who love Zion, seek for the reviving influences of the Spirit upon cities. While every hand is faithful in the discharge of duty, let every heart be impressed with the sentiment, _Not by might, nor by power, but by my_ SPIRIT, _saith the Lord of hosts_; and let every eye be directed to Him who hath promised, that _when iniquity cometh in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard_. In urging the importance of special effort and prayer for the renovation of cities, we do not overlook the interests of the country; but would thus guard every town and village from an influence heavily impregnated with moral poison and death. The merchants of the interior, in the prosecution of their business, regularly visit the metropolis. Many of them, on the enticement of friends and acquaintance, attend the theatres, and other places of vain amusement and sin; they become familiar with their glare and dissipation. They return, and tell what their eyes have seen, and what their ears have heard, and thus create in the bosom of the young, the ardent, the rich, and the worldly, a thirst for similar pastimes, and a disrelish for sober realities. Many faithful pastors in the land weep over the growing immoralities occasioned by the influence of cities. Many churches lament the defection of their members, having become worldly in their spirit, and vain in their imaginations, by reason of their frequent intercourse with cities. If such, then, is their influence upon the country, well may the churches, planted throughout the land, feel deeply interested in the moral character of cities, and pray for their conversion to God. Let our cities become places of holiness: let holiness to the Lord be written upon the heart of every merchant, of every mechanic, of every statesman, of every counsellor, of every officer, upon every hall of legislation, and every splendid edifice; and an influence sweet, holy, and happy, shall go forth to revive the hearts of God's people, to awe and confound opposers, and to dress up the wilderness "like the garden of God." O, what a scene of grandeur and glory, when the thousands of the saints shall wrestle in the spirit of Jacob for the blessing: when they shall rise up in the spirit of their Master, and display an untiring zeal for the salvation of man! O, what a scene, when the immense crowds of immortal beings, who throng our streets, shall be deeply impressed with the conviction of their accountability!--When every man shall feel that he is acting continually under the eye of God, and in full prospect of the judgment. Let these scenes be realized, and already I see "the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband." And I hear "a great voice out of heaven, saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God." Friends of the Redeemer, the hastening of this blessed consummation depends very much upon your will. God has intrusted great power in your hands. In the revelation of his Son, he has given you that word, which is "as a fire, and like a hammer, that breaketh the rock in pieces." In shedding down a spirit of union, and guiding to the formation of great benevolent associations, he has given you facilities for extended influence hitherto unparalleled. He has given you wealth, and knowledge, and all the means for using these facilities. And in the article of prayer, he has endued you with a power well nigh omnipotent. His condescending language is, "Concerning the work of my hands COMMAND YE ME." I see among you men of wealth, who can count your tens, your fifties, and your hundreds of thousands,--all of which has been solemnly consecrated to God. I see among you men of talent,--"capable of intimidating the collective vices of a nation or an age." I see among you men of enterprise, and courage, and resistless perseverance. I see among you men, who have strong confidence in God. And shall these varied powers of resistance and aggression be circumscribed by the walls of individual churches? Shall they not rather be combined for raising a higher and higher tone of moral feeling, and Christian enterprise? Shall they not send a strong, concentrated light into every dark retreat of wickedness? Shall not the tide of dissipation, and crime, that would overflow and mar every thing sacred, be met and turned back? Shall not thousands and tens of thousands on our borders, and in our midst, be rescued from the iron sway of the destroyer, and be saved from going down to the pit? Shall not new temples be opened for their reception? and shall not "God, even our God, be a wall of fire round about them, and a glory in the midst of them?" Do you ask more particularly, how this shall be done? Plant, for instance, an able and devoted minister in the most degraded portion of our city. Let him employ his time in the cultivation of one thousand of these minds. Let him, by the aid of self-denying brethren, assemble them in one place on the holy sabbath. Let him visit their houses, and pray with them, every month. Let him collect the children and youth into sabbath schools and bible classes. Let him encourage among them every means of intellectual as well as spiritual elevation; and how astonishing will be the change wrought, even in the course of one year. Instead of being objects of pity, shame, and aversion; many of them become pillars of light, and exert a purifying influence upon others. Is not this elevation worth more than all the necessary expense, even leaving out of the account all the eternal results? Let, then, another and another degraded portion be selected, and in like manner be regenerated and ennobled. Especially let no one who feeds at the table of our common Lord, and lives from week to week on the provisions of his house, refuse, promptly and vigorously to co-operate in the work of mercy, while a soul is perishing in ignorance and sin! In the mean time, let our civil fathers look well to the execution of laws, which themselves have made, for the suppression of sabbath-breaking and immorality. And let them inquire seriously, Whether all our children and youth may not be brought under the influence of instructors of good character, and other moral restraints, a thousand-fold more efficacious, for preventing crime, than statutes, and prisons, and chains. Our hearts rejoice to see new blocks of buildings going up to decorate our city. But what is that to the present and eternal elevation of these thousand minds? Should we not then exult in the privilege of lifting all the degraded portions of our city, and of our land, into intellectual and moral grandeur? What object of ambition could there be, equal to that of thus creating an empire of righteousness--a world of intellect? Such monuments of glory shall remain, when earthly governments shall be no more, and the earth itself shall have passed away. Never, methinks, was the language of God more distinct, than at the present crisis. To the rich he is manifestly saying, "Bring ye all the tithes into the store-house, that there may be meat in my house, and prove me now herewith, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it. And I will rebuke the devourer for your sakes; and all nations shall call you blessed." To the ministers of religion, and to all his chosen, he is manifestly saying, "O Zion, that bringest good tidings, get thee up into the high mountain: O Jerusalem, that bringest good tidings, lift up thy voice with strength; lift it up; be not afraid; say unto the cities; Behold your God! Behold the Lord God will come with strong hand, and his arm shall rule for him: behold, his reward is with him, and his work before him." "When the Lord shall build up Zion, he shall appear in his glory. He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and not despise their prayer. This shall be written for the generation to come: and the people which shall be created, shall praise the Lord. For he hath looked down from the height of his sanctuary, to hear the groaning of the prisoner; to loose those that are appointed to death; to declare the name of the Lord in Zion, and his praise in Jerusalem." These are great privileges for God to confer on such worms as we are. Yet God has indeed placed them within reach. And if we will but do our duty here, we are only ripening for infinitely greater privileges and higher honours. He that is _faithful over a few things_, shall be made _ruler over many things_. Yes; when all our cities, and the earth itself, and these heavens shall be "wrapt in consuming fire," we may, "with the great multitude found faithful," enter that _City, which hath foundations, whose Builder and Maker is God_. In _that_ City, "THERE SHALL BE NO MORE CURSE, BUT THE THRONE OF GOD AND THE LAMB SHALL BE IN IT, AND HIS SERVANTS SHALL SERVE HIM. AND THERE SHALL BE NO NIGHT THERE; AND THEY NEED NO CANDLE, NEITHER LIGHT OF THE SUN; FOR THE LORD GOD GIVETH THEM LIGHT: AND THEY SHALL REIGN FOR EVER AND EVER." APPENDIX. The population of New-York city, in 1820, was 123,706. In 1825, it was 166,086: making an increase, in 5 years, of 42,380. Allowing the same ratio of increase, there is now a population of 185,000. There are in the city 101 churches, or houses of public worship: Of which 4 are Roman Catholic, 1 New-Jerusalem, 2 Unitarian, 2 Universalist, 2 Jews' Synagogues, 15 Baptist, 13 Methodist, 17 Episcopalian, and 34 Presbyterian churches, including the Scotch and Reformed Dutch. The remainder are Lutheran, Moravian, Friends, German Reformed, and Independents. The average number of regular attendants is estimated, by such as have made it a subject of special examination, not to exceed 400 to each house; which makes the number of those statedly attending public worship 40,400. After deducting 50,000, for children, for the sick, and for others necessarily absent, there will still remain NINETY-FOUR THOUSAND AND SIX HUNDRED, or _more than half the population, absenting themselves from the public worship of God!_ There are in the city 4 theatres and 2 circuses: most of which are opened from 4 to 6 nights every week. The number of shops and other places licensed to sell liquor by the small measure, is three thousand; or about one to every SEVENTH DWELLING-HOUSE! In addition to the violations of holy time, occasioned by steam-boats, and other public conveyances, by butchers, grocers, and other traders purchasing their stock from boats arriving from the country, upwards of ONE THOUSAND _shops, and other places, are opened for the sale of liquor or other things on the Sabbath_! Nor is this view peculiar to New-York. A critical investigation of facts in other cities will develop similar results. In London, the whole number of churches and chapels of all denominations is estimated at 400. "If we calculate," says a late English writer, "that the average attendance is 500; which is certainly the greatest extent we can allow, and add 250 more for the fluctuating hearers, it will give a result of 300,000 persons. The population of this metropolis is estimated at 1,274,800. From which subtract the feeble minority above, and we find NINE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FOUR THOUSAND EIGHT HUNDRED _persons neglecting the public worship of God_! It appears that of the commercial papers published in London on the Sunday, there are circulated, on the lowest estimate, 45,000 copies; and that upon the most moderate computation, between two and three hundred thousand readers of these papers are to be found in the metropolis alone. While the great number of pressmen, distributers, master-venders, hawkers, and subordinate agents, of both sexes, and of all ages, who are employed on the Sabbath, all tend to the most flagrant breach of the day of rest." In the mean time, the number of deaths in New-York is about _five thousand_ annually: in London, about _thirty-three thousand_. CONTRIBUTORS. The following Gentlemen, (of five different Denominations,) among others, are expected to contribute Sermons for this Work: _Rev. Drs. Mason_, _Milnor_, _Mathews_, _Spring_, and _Bangs_, and _Rev. Mr. De Witt_, New-York City; _Rev. Dr. Richards_, Professor in the Theological Seminary at Auburn; _Rev. Dr. Proudfit_, Salem; _Rev. Dr. Chester_, Albany, and _Rev. Mr. Beman_, Troy; _Rev. Dr. M'Dowell_, Elizabethtown, N.J.; _Rev. Dr. Miller_, Professor in Princeton Theological Seminary; _Rev. Drs. Green_, _Staughton_, _Janeway_, and _Skinner_, and _Rev. Mr. Bedell_, Philadelphia; _Rev. 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20430	----	THE AFTERGLOW OF A GREAT REIGN Four Addresses Delivered in St. Paul's Cathedral by the RIGHT REV. A. F. WINNINGTON INGRAM, D.D. Bishop Suffragan of Stepney, and Canon of St. Paul's Cathedral London Wells Gardner, Darton & Co. 3, Paternoster Buildings, E C 1901. CONTENTS. PAGE I. HER TRUTHFULNESS II. HER MORAL COURAGE III. THE RAINBOW ROUND ABOUT THE THRONE IV. THE LAW OF KINDNESS The After-glow of a Great Reign. I. HER TRUTHFULNESS. "Behold, Thou requirest truth in the inward parts."--_Psalm li. 6._ We stand to-day like men who have just watched a great sunset. On some beautiful summer evening we must all of us have watched a sunset, and we know how, first of all, we see the great orb slowly decline towards the horizon; then comes the sense of coming loss; then it sets amid a blaze of glory, and then it is buried, buried for ever so far as that day is concerned, to reappear as the leader of a new dawn. In exactly the same way have we for years been watching with loving interest the declining years of our Queen, years that declined so slowly towards the horizon that we almost persuaded ourselves we should have her with us for ever. Then came, but a few weeks ago, a sudden sense of coming loss, then her sun set in a blaze of glory, and yesterday she was buried, buried from our sight, to reappear, as we believe, as a bright particular star in another world. We do not grudge her her rest. Few words can express more beautifully the thoughts of thousands than these words just put into my hand-- "Leave her in peace, her time is fully come, Her empire's crown All day she bore, nor asked to lay it down, Now God has called her home. Let sights and sounds of earth be all forgot, Her cares and tears She hath endured thro' her allotted years, Now they can touch her not. From that fierce light which beats upon a throne Now has she passed Into God's stillness, cool and deep and vast, Let Heaven for earth atone. All gifts but one He gave, but kept the best Till now in store; Now He doth add to all He gave before His perfect gift of rest." [1] But, just as in the sunset a beautiful and tender after-glow remains long after the sun has set, so we are gathered to-day in the tender after-glow. And I propose that we should try and gather up one by one--to learn ourselves and to tell our children, and the generations yet unborn, as some explanation of the marvellous influence which she exercised--some of the qualities of the Queen whom we have lost. And let us first fix our minds upon something which at first sight seems so simple, but yet seems to have struck every generation of statesmen as a thing almost supernatural--and that is _her marvellous truthfulness_. Said a great statesman, "She is the most perfectly truthful being I have ever met." "Perfect sincerity" is the description of another. Now what that must have meant to England, for generation after generation of statesmen to have had at the centre of the empire a truthful person, a person who never used intrigue, who never was plotting or planning, or working behind the backs of those who were responsible to advise her--to have had someone perfectly sincere to deal with in the great things of state--that is something which must be left for the historian who chronicles the Victorian era thoroughly to paint. No, my friends, our task now is far simpler: it is to ask what is the secret of this marvellous truthfulness, can we obtain it ourselves, and does God demand it? Let us take the last question first, and we take it first because it is the question directly answered in our text. The answer is given by someone who understood human nature, by someone who had sinned, had been forgiven, had been roused out of the conventionalities of life by a great experience, who had looked out of the door of his being and had seen God. And he tells us, as the result of his experience, and as the basis of his repentance, these words "Behold, Thou requirest truth in the inward parts." It is one thing to say words which, understood in a certain sense, are true, it is one thing to avoid direct breaches in our action of the law of honour, but it is another thing to be in ourselves absolutely sincere, to look up into the eyes of God, as a truthful child looks up into the eyes of its mother, to possess our own hearts like a flawless gem, with nothing to hide, nothing to keep back, and nothing to be ashamed of--that is to have truth in the inward parts, and that is what God demands. It is what He found in Christ, one of the things which made Him say time after time, "This is My beloved Son, in Whom I am well pleased"; He found ever reflecting back His Face as He looked down upon Him a perfectly sincere Person, true through and through. That was the secret of His marvellous influence, that was why little children came and crept under the ample folds of His love, that was why young men came and told Him their secrets, that was why everybody, except the bad, felt at home with Him, that was why women were at their best with Him, that was why Herod the worldly found he could not flatter Him, and Pilate the coward found Him devoid of fear; it was because right through, not only in His words and actions, but in His being He not only had, but He was, Truth in the inward parts. And it is because our Queen, with her simple and beautiful faith in her Saviour, caught from childhood this attribute of her Lord, because she worked it out into her character, made it the foundation of everything she did--it is for that reason she was able to keep the Court pure, and the heart of the country true, to get rid of flattery, meanness and intrigue, and to chase away the sycophant and the traitor. Is it not a lesson which the country needs, is there any nobler monument that we could build to her than this--to incorporate into the character of the nation the first and great characteristic of her own character, and to try and plant in society, in trade, and in Christian work, truth in the inward parts? Take, first, _society_. It is a cheap sneer, which speaks perpetually of the hollowness of so-called society, as if rich people could not make and did not make as honest friendships as the poor and middle class; but, at the same time, few would deny how much of what would be such a good thing is disfigured by display and insincerity, that miserable attempting to be thought richer than we are, that pitiable struggle to get into a smarter set than happens to be ours, the unreal compliments, the insincere expressions, the sometimes hideous treachery. If society were purged from these, it would not be the dull thing which some people imagine, just as if this insincerity and frivolity and unreality constituted the brightness of it. No, it is these things which constitute the dulness and the stupidity. If they were done away with, then society would be a gathering of true men and women, true to themselves, true to one another, and true to God, and would be a society which God could bless. Secondly, take _trade_ and _commerce_. Speaking in the very centre of a city reared upon a basis of honourable commerce, it would be more than wicked to refuse to acknowledge the splendid honour and trust on which such commerce is based; but when we clergy, not once or twice, but constantly, get letters from those employed in firms and in business up and down the country, saying, "How can I live a Christian life, when I am obliged by my employer to do dishonest things in business, when I am told to tell lies, or I shall lose my place?" When we have, even within the last few months, terrible instances of breach of trust among those who have been entrusted with the most sacred interests by the widow and the orphan, must we not acknowledge that a second great monument which we might build to our Queen would be to restore to the trade and commerce of the country those principles of honour and integrity on which the great firms were built up, and to make it true again from end to end of the world that an Englishman's word is as good as his bond. And so, again--would to God we had not to add it!--what a revolution would be worked in _Christian work_ itself--Christian work that is supposed to demand from everyone who undertakes it perfect forgetfulness of self, and entire self-abnegation, to have as its workers men and women conspicuous for humility, for thinking of others before themselves, for being ready to bear the cross on the way to the crown. And yet can we deny--would God we could!--that in Christian work there is an amount of self-advertisement, of jealousy among workers, and of insincerity which lowers our cause, and damages the progress of Christianity? Think for a moment what it would be if all Christians were really united as Christ meant them to be, if they worked with one another, showing a common front to the world, one great society, as Christ conceived it, without jealousy, without conceit, without pride, but throwing themselves into one magnificent common cause. Why, nothing could stand before the Christian Church if it were like that. Can we not in this coming reign, and the century just begun, try and plant in the heart of every Christian worker truth in the inward parts? How are we, then--that comes to be the last question--how are we to attain this wonderful gift, the secret of a strong character? And, first of all, let us be perfectly clear as to the first essential. The first essential is _detachment of mind_. Oh! what cowards we are with regard to the opinion of others! You will find time after time men and women, who think themselves free, living under the most degrading tyranny of fear as to what will be thought of them by others. Not to care at all what anybody thinks is inhuman, but to be bound by a kind of trembling terror as to what people will say or think, is a degrading slavery. Bit by bit it creates in the character a habit of insincerity; little by little the question is in the heart and in the mind, "Will this be popular or not? Shall I be liked for this?" We speak or do something according to the reflection it will make in the thoughts of others. There may be some here who know that that is their temptation, who know that they are not true, that they are never themselves, they are always somebody else, or the reflection of the mind of somebody else. Let the example of our truthful Queen speak like a trumpet note the old words of the New Testament, "Stand upright on thy feet," and be a man. And, if the first secret is detachment of mind, putting aside self-consciousness, which is very often other-people-consciousness, the second secret is _an increasing consciousness of God_. Is it not an extraordinary thing that when we are only here for a few fleeting years, and everybody around us is hurrying to his grave as fast as he can, and when the only person whose opinion matters the least is the eternal God, Who goes on generation after generation, and before Whom everyone must appear at the last--is it not an extraordinary thing how little we think of Him at all? How often during the past week have you thought of God? To actually acquire a continual sense of His presence, to be conscious that His eyes, the eyes of Him Who is from everlasting to everlasting, are always fixed upon us, to rise in the morning with the feeling, "One more day's work for God," and to go to bed in the evening with only one care, "How have we done it?"--that is to gradually foster in the character the second great thing which will produce truth in the inward parts--a consciousness and love of God. And then, thirdly, _learn truth like a lesson_. If we did not learn it as the Queen did as a child, let us begin now. Watch every word. Are we in the habit of boasting, are we in the habit of lying, are we in the habit of being insincere? Not "What did we do?" but "Why did we do it?" is the real question. Why did we give that donation to something? For the good of the cause or to see our name in the paper? Why did we do this thing? Was it done from a true and pure motive? And if, as we try and learn truth like a lesson, step by step, in word and deed, we also pray continually, "Give me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me," then there shall emerge gradually something that will last beyond the grave--an image, which is also the pattern, the character of the child, slowly won, but which was the prototype to start with; and thus we may hope to be sincere, and without offence until the day of Christ. [1] Lines by the Rev. W. H. Draper, Rector of Adel, Leeds. II. HER MORAL COURAGE. "Why are ye fearful? O! ye of little faith."--_St. Matthew viii. 26._ We saw last Sunday that we were like men who had just watched a great sunset, that we were standing, as it were, in the beautiful and tender after-glow, which so often follows a beautiful sunset, and we set ourselves to try and gather up and meditate upon some of the great qualities in the character of her whom we have lost, as some explanation, of the influence which made her reign so great. And we have already contemplated together what it was to have _truth in the inward parts_. We thought over the truthfulness of one, of whom it was said by a great statesman, that she was the most truthful being he had ever met. And we saw what a revolution it would work in society, in commerce, and in Christian work, if every one of us had that downright sincerity and straightforwardness which characterized her. We now take another quality, and I suppose I shall carry most of you with me when I mention, as a second great quality for us to try and incorporate into our own characters, and so into the life of the nation for the new reign--her moral courage. She had plenty of physical courage. She was a fearless horsewoman in her youth, she was proud of being the daughter of a soldier, she loved her own soldiers and sailors, and marked to the very last day of her life their gallant deeds with delight. But there was throughout her life something more than physical courage, and that was her moral courage. Take, first of all, the way in which she bore her own personal troubles. If there was anyone who could say with the Psalmist, "All Thy waves and storms have gone over me," it was our late Queen. What the loss of her husband was to her, you may gather from this beautiful letter published in Lord Selborne's Life, which she addressed to him years afterwards on the loss of his own wife: "To lose the loved companion of one's life is losing half one's own existence. From that time everything is different, every event seems to lose its effect; for joy, which cannot be shared by those who feel everything with you, is no joy, and sorrow is redoubled when it cannot be shared and soothed by the one who alone could do so. No children can replace a wife or a husband, may they be ever so good and devoted. One must bear one's burden alone. That our Heavenly Father may give you strength in this heavy affliction, and that your health may not suffer, is the sincere prayer of yours most truly, Victoria, R.I." [1] There could hardly have been penned, one would have thought, a more touching or more beautiful letter, and penned years after the loss of her husband. It revealed to the heart of the nation what that loss was to her. It was followed in the years afterwards by the loss of children and grandchildren. And the first thing, therefore, that strikes us is that, in the midst of this personal sorrow, one stroke following after another, with a moral courage which is an example to us all, she never gave up her work; without fainting or failing, that huge pile of documents, which, in a few days of cessation from her work, mounted up--a great statesman tells us--so high, was dealt with, those ceaseless interviews, that constant correspondence--were carried through up to the last by one who proved herself faithful unto death. And, as with personal sorrow, so with public anxiety. It has become now common property that, in the dark days of December, 1899, the Queen was the one who refused to be depressed in her court; when disaster followed disaster it was the Queen who, by her moral courage, kept up the spirits of those around her, and who, with a perfect trust in her soldiers and sailors, and with an absolute confidence in the justice of her cause, went steadily, brightly, and cheerfully on with her work, upheld by the moral courage which I put before you and before myself as our example for to-day. And so, once again, her moral courage took the form--a rare form, too, in these days--of the courage of her own opinions. One statesman has told us that he never differed from a matured opinion of his Sovereign without a great sense of responsibility; another, that when he once acted directly against it he found that he was wrong and she was right. Another has pointed out how we have lost among the crowned heads of Europe, in her personal influence among them, one of the strongest influences in Europe for peace and righteousness. And, therefore, when we think to ourselves of the difficulty of acting always constitutionally and yet strongly, and to know that our Queen, on all hands, is admitted to have done this through a long lifetime, we see a third aspect of the moral courage which we have to seek to emulate. Now, the question is--for these sermons are meant in no sense to be mere panegyrics--In what way can we, gathered here on a Sunday afternoon, incorporate into our characters something of the moral courage which characterized the Queen? And the first thing which strikes us is this: What a vast field it is on which we have to exercise it. To those who have to see a great deal of the sorrows of others, sometimes life simply seems one series of undeserved calamities. Take, for instance, that unhappy man who, recently, in this cathedral, shot himself, and by his own act passed into the other world. Look into his history, and you will find nothing specially wrong that he had done up to then. He had just been one of the unfortunates amongst us. He had been for years a steady workman, able to keep himself; then his joints got stiff, too stiff for work. "I cannot go on living on your husband's earnings, Rose," he said, on the morning that he died, and without, no doubt, a proper understanding of the guilt of self-murder, by his own act he passed--so he thought--out of trouble into rest. We do well to pray that we comfortable people in the world may be pardoned for any carelessness and selfishness on our part which makes the world so intolerable to many of our fellow creatures. But still, though we may soften by our pity the act which he did, and even for such an one we can only speak softly about the dead; though we know full well that some of the best men that ever lived, in a fit of insanity, or under depression quite impossible for them to control, have passed, by their own hand, out of this world, yet we cannot hide from ourselves that self-destruction is an act of cowardice, that where men and women break down is not in physical courage, but in moral courage, and that those lines penned long ago are true to-day: "When all the blandishments of life are gone, The coward slinks to death, the brave live on!" But we need not go to such an exceptional occurrence as that to find a field for this exercise of moral courage. Take all those incidents of life which happen day after day--the little child snatched from us in all its beauty and its innocence: the bright lad shot upon the field of battle in a moment, taken away with all his brightness, and his laughter, and his merriment; the man who loses in middle life his money and has to begin the hard struggle of saving all over again--how are we to explain it? What can we say to light up in any degree so vast a problem? There is, my dear brothers and sisters, I believe, no full explanation here, but there is a belief which comforts us, and that is, that these calamities of life are all being used for a great purpose; that when the Scripture says of God that "He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver," it does give us some sort of clue which nerves us to bear what we have to bear. Those who pass from us, pass, we believe, into what has been called, "God's great Convalescent Home" in another world, but to us who have to suffer, who receive these strokes, the suffering is not useless; it is a furnace which has to fashion that heavenly tempered thing which we call "moral courage," and to produce it any suffering is worth bearing. Do think over that, you who may be going through the furnace now, do remember that you have not lost that lad, that child, for ever, that it is only a few years until you see him again; but, meanwhile, while he is prepared there, you are being prepared here. The character is everything, and if there can be produced in you and in me that moral courage which makes us like our Saviour, we shall not be sorry for it in the days to come. And so, again, take that awful trial which comes at times of having to suffer under a false accusation. I saw someone this week whom I believe to be lying under a most terrible accusation which is absolutely false. And, if anyone of you has ever been through that terrible trial of suffering under an imputation on your honour, which you know to be false, but cannot prove to be false, you realize what a field such a state as that presents for moral courage. What are we to say to anyone we see who is under that most terrible trial? What are we to say to ourselves if such a misfortune and trial comes to us? Why, we can only say this, and it is enough--that if it is true that a general places his bravest soldiers in the hottest part of the battle, if it is true that it is only certain strokes which can reach the most sensitive parts of our character, if it is true that this very trial came to Jesus Christ Himself, and He had it said of Him--"He works through Beelzebub, the prince of the devils," "He saved others, Himself He cannot save"--then, my brother, the secret of your strange punishment is out, it means that it is a special mark of favour, it is a Victoria Cross for service, it is Christ coming to you and bringing the very cup out of which He drank Himself, and saying, "Are ye able to drink of the cup that I drink of, and to be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" Pray hard, pray with all your strength, for the moral courage to answer back, "I am able." "Therefore," as the poet so beautifully says:-- "Therefore gird up thyself, and come to stand Unflinching under the unfaltering hand That waits to prove thee to the uttermost. It were not hard to suffer by His hand If thou could see His face; but in the dark! That is the one last trial--be it so; Christ was forsaken, so must thou be too: How couldst thou suffer but in seeming else? Thou wilt not see the face, nor feel the hand, Only the cruel crushing of the feet, When, thro' the bitter night, the Lord comes down To tread the wine-press. Not by sight but faith, Endure, endure; be faithful to the end." And so, once again, looking out upon our ordinary life, what shall we need to put backbone into life? What do we need to give a little more strength to it, to enable us to be braver and firmer and stronger? It is just that power of being able to take our own line against others; it is just that courage of our opinions; it is consistent with being perfectly humble, and ever ready to learn; it implies no conceit, and no contempt of others, but it enables this one in the workshop to stand up for the faith in which he believes, that one in the drawing-room to take a strong moral line when people are sneering at virtue; it nerves us to stand by our colours and to cry to the last, "Faith of our fathers, living still, We will be true to thee till death." How then are we to gain the secret? What is the secret of moral courage? And, in answering that question, let us be perfectly fair to those who, like the Stoics of old, showed a wonderful endurance with no knowledge whatever of Christ, and very little belief in another world; let us be perfectly honest and frank with regard to the virtue of those in our day who, having lost, to their infinite misfortune, their childish faith, still say to themselves: "I will cling to my morality, I will try and keep a clean hand and a pure heart"; let us give full allowance to what we have heard of this morning in this cathedral--the power and the influence of secondary motives, secondary motives allowed sometimes to save us for the time before the primary motive comes in--but still, making all allowance for that, what is the secret of the best moral courage? It is not the highest moral courage merely to endure, it is not the highest moral courage, like the old Roman, just to fold our toga round us and die. There has come a new thing into the world, a new kind of moral courage, and that moral courage is full of inspiration and full of cheerfulness: it does not merely bear the cross, it takes up the cross. It has in the midst of its own sorrow a force and a power which shake the world; it has in the midst of personal trouble, "A heart at leisure from itself To soothe and sympathize." And what is the secret of that? And I would dare anyone here, whatever may be their private belief, to doubt or to dispute this, that it is produced and shown by no one else but those who believe that Jesus is with them in the ship; and that when you see some woman going through the most terrible trouble, perfectly calm, quiet, brave and cheerful; when some man, over whom all the waves and storms are bursting, stands there brave, and cheerful, and happy in the hour of trial, it is because, unheard by the world, he hears a voice in his ear saying, "Why are ye fearful? O ye of little faith," because, unseen by the world, he sees Someone standing with His hand upon the tiller, Someone Whom he believes to have supreme power in the last resort over the waves, and Who he knows, at exactly the right moment when it is best for him, will say the word before which every billow and every storm sinks to rest, "Peace be still." The trial is that Jesus often seems asleep; the trial is that when the ship of State labours on in the trough of the waves there seems no steersman in view; the trial is that when the Church seems overwhelmed by controversy, and about to be buried under its waves, Jesus makes no sign; the trial is that Lazarus actually dies and lies dead, and Jesus still stays two days in the same place where He was; but the magnificent truth which we Christians believe is this--that, though apparently asleep, He never is asleep; that He rises from time to time and shows His strength; that He rose once and burst into fragments the power of death. They thought He was quite asleep in the grave, but He rose with all His power, and broke for every mourner throughout the ages that were to come, the power of death for ever. He rises in the midst of the Church, He brings the Church in His own time into a peace and calm which seemed at one time impossible; He rises in our own personal life, and while the world thinks how that poor man or poor woman is overwhelmed with trouble, we know that we are in a wonderful and supernatural calm. And, therefore, the whole question is this: Have we got, or do we believe we have got, Jesus in the ship with us? Do we hear His voice saying, "Be of good cheer; it is I, be not afraid?" As we watch, then, the moral courage produced in our Queen by her simple, but strong faith, I beg you with me to pray God to grant us a living faith in Jesus Christ, which is the secret of strength, and we shall find that it will give us moral courage, not of earth, which the world can neither give nor take away. [1] "Memorials: Personal and Political of the Earl of Selborne." Vol. IV., 161. III. THE RAINBOW ROUND ABOUT THE THRONE. "And there was a rainbow round about the throne."--_Rev. iv. 3._ We are taking, you will remember, one by one--picturing ourselves in the after-glow which succeeds a great sunset--the qualities which made the influence of the Queen that we have lost so great, and we have taken them, not as constituting a prolonged panegyric, but as practical lessons, and much-needed lessons, for ourselves. And we first contemplated the truthfulness of one of whom it has been said, that she was the most truthful being that the speaker--a great statesman--had ever met. Then we traced in trouble, in public anxiety, amid a multitude of advisers, the effect and the power of moral courage. We saw that moral courage is only strong enough to stand up against overwhelming trouble, when anxieties and difficulties are thick around us, if we really believe that our Lord Jesus Christ is with us in the ship, and that we hear His voice say to us, "Why are ye so fearful, O ye of little faith?" And yet, as we go on, we become more and more aware that we have not yet penetrated to the central secret of her power; nor shall we. Can any man name the real secret of influence, or analyse the strength of personality? But, if we cannot hope to penetrate to the central secret, we can, with firm and reverent gaze, gather more than we have yet done of how it was that the Court of Queen Victoria was the purest Court in the world, and why her influence was so unique among all civilized nations. And, as we take our third glance, we find that round her throne, so far as it is possible for human things to copy the divine, there was a reflection of what the inspired Seer, with open eyes, saw round the throne of God--a rainbow round about the throne. What do we understand by a rainbow? Four things, at least. First, the colours of the rainbow, beautiful and various as they are, blend into the purest white; secondly, a rainbow, even for the most careless, and those most untouched by natural beauty, is one of the most inherently attractive things in the world; thirdly--a rainbow is God's appointed sign of hope, hope founded on the faithfulness of God: "While the earth remaineth, winter and summer, seed time and harvest shall not cease"; and, fourthly--strange paradox at first, but true--a rainbow is one of the most awful things in the world, because it reminds us that what has created it is the terrible light which, without the atmosphere, would scorch to nothingness; for, while the sun, through the medium of the atmosphere, blesses, let its flames, mountains high, touch a planet that has drifted from its course, and it scorches to death. With those four thoughts in our minds, let us first contemplate the rainbow round the throne of God. And we shall now understand that the first thing which we can learn is, that there is around the throne of God a circle of unblemished purity. We might have known it; we have been told it over and over again. "God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all." "With the clean thou must be clean, and with the holy thou must learn holiness." We know it, yet where we fail is in not realizing the awful bearing which it has upon our lives. A rainbow of perfect purity bars the way of entrance to the throne of God, except for the pure. And then, secondly, to temper, as it were, the awfulness of the first revelation, we find that the light of God is brought us through a medium; the glory, grace, and truth of God are shown us in the face of Jesus Christ. And, as we follow Him during these coming six weeks, let us remember that we are watching the rainbow, that we are watching the medium through which the light of God reaches us in all its inherent attractiveness. If the heavenly rainbow is not produced by the light shining upon the tears of human penitence, where is hope for the world? But because it is so produced, the rainbow round the throne of God wins us to God. "Come unto Me," it seems to signify, "all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Thirdly, the rainbow round the throne of God speaks of hope. Just as the husbandman, getting anxious about his harvest, troubled by the variableness of the season, looks up on some showery day and sees the rainbow in the sky, and it reminds him of the faithfulness of God, and His promise that seed time and harvest shall not cease, so the father with his son snatched suddenly from him in the battle, so the soul waiting so long year after year, for something to come which does not come, so the tempted one at home or at work, looks upon the rainbow round the throne of God, and that rainbow speaks of God's faithfulness. "His righteousness standeth," that is what the rainbow says, "like the strong mountains, and His judgments are like the great deep." And, founded on the faithfulness of God, we can hope. And yet, in spite of the attractiveness and in spite of the hope, the rainbow round the throne of God is still awful, for it reminds us of what, in our soft age, we are apt to forget--that "our God is a consuming fire," that never, from generation to generation, does He lower His standard for a moment, that not because in one age or another sins are condoned or thought lightly of does He vary for an instant the standard of holiness He demands, because He has appointed a day when He will judge the world by the standard of that Man Whom He has ordained. And when, therefore, we turn from the prototype in Heaven to the copy of it which we have been lately seeing on earth, we are not surprised to find the same mingled elements of attractiveness and awfulness in the rainbow which encircled the throne of the empire for three and sixty years. In the first place, we find it a rainbow of unsullied purity. No one could go down, even for a few hours, to preach at the Court, without being struck by the goodness of the men, as well as the goodness of the women, who surrounded the Queen. There was an atmosphere of goodness, of innocence, of pure home life, which constituted a beautiful rainbow round the throne. It had what we should expect--an attractive power throughout the world. Everyone felt, for that reason, at home with their Queen, because they were conscious that, at her home, there were just the very qualities, and the very characteristics, of a pure, and true, and good home. It gave an impulse of hope to the whole empire. Young mothers in Canada, Australia, and the islands of the sea, mothers of grown-up sons and daughters who found it difficult to keep the standard high in their own homes, thousands of them, without knowing it, were helped and inspired and enlightened by the sight of the far-away rainbow round about the throne at the centre of the empire. "She did it, she has managed it; in the midst of Court life, in the midst of all difficulties and duties, her home is pure: mine shall be pure; the Queen, God bless her!" That was the thought of thousands of hearts, and the inspiration of thousands of homes throughout the empire. And yet, who shall deny that there was an awe about it all? The man or woman was not born who dared to take a liberty in the presence of Queen Victoria. And can we wonder that the awful purity which shone round the throne chased away, as evil birds are chased away by the light, all things bad, all things loathsome, and all things even questionable! Our lesson, then, is this: How can we keep in the nation, in the home, in the individual soul, a rainbow round the throne; how can we incorporate into the national life, and home life, and the individual life, the spotless purity that we saw in the Queen whom we have lost? And, first of all, believe in the possibility of it. Those men who, in their clubs, or before younger men, talk as if virtue and purity were impossible; those women who allow into their drawing-rooms, or into the society of those they love, men known to be bad, are doing all that lies in their power to make the rainbow impossible; they are doing all in their power to make it impossible for us to have in the nation, in the home, or in the individual life, purity at all. Those who look out upon scenes which disgrace our social system, and our city, and, with a shrug of the shoulders, lead people to believe they constitute a necessary evil which cannot be faced, are not only unconsciously believing in the blasphemy that God made His physical laws so that they could not obey His moral laws; they are not only condoning the most unblushing cruelty which is going on in our midst to-day, but, also, they are not realizing that Jesus Christ came with the very purpose among others of proving that the pure life was a possible one. What is the Incarnation but the taking of a human body, with all its passions, with all its impulses, a real Human body, and wearing it perfectly untarnished to the end? We must take hold, by meditation and by prayer, of the teaching of the Incarnation, that we may live as children of the Incarnation. We were sent into the world with a rainbow round our souls. "Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory, do we come, From God, Who is our home." And we may be perfectly certain that God does not send us into this world with a rainbow round our souls if it is impossible to preserve the brightness and the purity of that rainbow in the world to which He sent us. Having realized the possibility of it, the next thing to realize is that it is absolutely essential. No one without that rainbow can pass to the throne of God. There are many here, perhaps, who say, "Ah! it is too late to teach me that now; my rainbow, if I ever had one, faded from round my brow long ago." My brother or sister, did we not see that a rainbow was made by the light shining upon rain, and do we not believe that, if any single one here brings the tears of real penitence, that there shall be round him again, or round her, the most beautiful rainbow, the rainbow of the light of forgiveness shining upon penitence? During these six weeks, let us then look into our own souls, and ask ourselves in the light of God, "Where are we! how about our thoughts? how about our words? how about our characters? where is the pristine purity of youth? what about our lives today?" If such questions draw us on to our knees, with tears of penitence, to beg God again of His mercy to make a rainbow shine around us, there shall still be a rainbow round the throne in our hearts. And, while we look into our own hearts, and remember the rigorous demand of God for the pure heart, lastly, let us safeguard our children. "Whoso shall cast a stumbling block in the way of one of these little ones, it were better that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depths of the sea." Why? Because it robs them of the joy of the rainbow, because that subtle suggestion, that careless talk, that stumbling block placed in the way, dims the children's view of Heaven, "where their angels do always behold the face of our Father Which is in Heaven." I pray you, then, my friends, safeguard the rainbow for your children, as well as for yourselves. Many careful writers, among others the Head Master of Haileybury, recommend, as a great safeguard, the teaching to children, before knowledge is conveyed to them from impure sources, the simple facts of life. "They are innocent," says the latter writer, "of impurity, indescribably eager for wholesome knowledge, perfectly trustful of their parents, and, though self-absorbed, are capable of being easily trained to a tone of mind to which sympathy is congenial and cruelty abhorrent. Such a description is literally true of the great majority of quite young children, and we believe that qualities such as these elicited the great saying, 'Of such is the kingdom of Heaven.'" He goes on to say that "such a trustful, innocent frame of mind is the very frame of mind to receive from the father and mother this simple instruction in the facts of life which would save many a fall and many a misery in the days to come; and is far," he says, "from sullying the purity of the child's mind." "People sometimes speak of the indescribable beauty of the children's innocence, and insist that there is nothing which calls for more constant thanksgiving than their influence on mankind, but I will venture to say that no one quite knows what it is who has foregone the privilege of being the first to set before them the true meaning of life and birth, and the mystery of their own being. Not only do we fail to build up sound knowledge in them, but we put away from ourselves the chance of learning something that must be divine." [1] God help us, then, for ourselves, in our home, in the nation, and, above all, among the children, to secure that in the coming reign, and through the coming century, there may be a rainbow round about the throne. [1] Rev. E. Lyttelton, "Training of the Young in Laws of Sex," pp. 16, 17, 109. IV. THE LAW OF KINDNESS. "In her tongue is the law of kindness."--_Prov. xxxi. 26._ We have reached our last lesson from the life and character of Queen Victoria. Some will be surprised that this lesson should have been kept for the last one, as the kindness and sympathy of the late Queen was a proverb among her people. But, if we come to think of it, it is far best to have kept it to the last. Mere kindness, apart from sincerity, apart from moral courage, without the rainbow of purity, counts low among the virtues. We have known kind people, have we not, who were weak, who were fickle, who were even treacherous, and there is a sad truth in that half-cynical statement that it is the province of the wise to remedy the mistakes of the good. But what captivated the whole Empire in the sympathy of Queen Victoria was its strength; that one so strong should be so kind; that one so fearless should have so much sympathy; that one whose moral standard was so high should be full of mercy and gentleness. It was that which gave a force to those many stories which came to us about the visits to the little lonely cottages in the Highlands; the telegrams to the women huddled by the pit-mouth in their misery; the letter to the mother of the young officer who had died for his country--what gave force to it all was its strength, the fact that it was no passing impulse, but the deep beating of a true mother's heart, that it was the outcome of character; and that, as is so beautifully said in this description of the virtuous woman in the Book of Proverbs: "In her tongue was the law of kindness." And when we turn from the pattern to the prototype--and never, for a moment, during Lent, can we afford to take our eyes off Jesus Christ Himself--when we turn from the Queen to the Saviour, in Whom she had so simple and so touching a faith, the first thing we find to our comfort is that He, too, felt the need of sympathy. Is there any picture in the whole of the New Testament more touching than that which shows us how He goes just before His greatest trial to seek sympathy from His followers, how He, the Head, the Leader, does not disdain to turn to the very followers who trusted in Him for sympathy? "Couldst thou not watch with Me one hour?" And the picture is so comforting, because it tells us that that craving for sympathy, which all of us feel at times, is a true human instinct, that there is nothing wrong in it, that one of the things that we can do for one another is to be like comrades on a night march, when one or another is stricken down, to stand over him, and be ready, at any moment, with the cup of sympathy to give him. And when Jesus goes to His own disciples to ask them for sympathy, it is a lesson that the need for sympathy is a true need, and the desire for it a true instinct of the human heart. But, then, remember, the sympathy He looks for is the sympathy which He always gave, something as tender and gentle as the touch of a good surgeon's hand upon a wounded limb, but also something as strong, and as firm, and as helpful. Why sympathy gets discredited, why people speak of "a morbid craving for sympathy," is because so much sympathy is sympathy of the wrong sort. There is some sympathy which enervates instead of strengthening. It thinks of itself, it thinks of the happiness of having to itself the object of its sympathy, it seeks merely to soothe. But the true sympathy goes far beyond that; the true sympathy never thinks of itself at all. It is simply concentrated upon one thought--how can I, in this trial-time, when my brother or my sister is stricken down by my side, how can I nerve and strengthen him or her to rise to the glorious vocation to which God has called him or called her, to strengthen them to be what God would have them be? And that was the sympathy, was it not, that Christ gave perpetually. It was within Him like a spring working by law, a spring which had all the regularity, as well as the spontaneity, of some beautiful spring among the hills, and it was at the service of every sufferer that came to Him; but He never hurt people when He tried to comfort them, because He gave them the nerving and strengthening sympathy of love. And then, again, notice how constant it was with Him. He was never too tired to be kind. He might be disappointed forty-nine times, but the fiftieth time found Him perfectly ready still. Wake Him up from His sleep, and He is ready to do an act of mercy. Place Him, tired, by the well, and He is ready there to try and help a sinful soul. Let Him have a little quiet time far away but the multitude find Him out, and then sympathy for them is ready to spring to His lips, for "He had compassion on the multitude," we are told, and in His tongue was the law of kindness. Therefore, among the virtues which we set ourselves to acquire during Lent, let us set ourselves, with the help of God, and by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, to see if we cannot acquire in our characters, as part of them, this power of sympathy; and, as we test ourselves, one by one, by the laws which ought to govern our lives during these six weeks, let us test ourselves by that law which more than any other goes to the root of our characters--the law of kindness. We ought to obey this law, first, in our own home lives; secondly, in our private charities; and, thirdly, in our public responsibilities. And, first of all, have we got such a perpetual spring of sympathy in our hearts ready for emergencies, ready for every sufferer, ready for every sinner who comes to us? Have we such a perpetual spring within us, ready and accessible for use in our home lives? It seems that the one thing a Christian should never be without is this spring of sympathy. "The water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up to everlasting life." It is hard to see what good a Christian is doing in the world at all if this primary function of his Christianity is undischarged. If he fails in that, he is failing in his primary duty. This, then, is the first question I would press upon everyone, as I would press it upon myself: Have I at the disposal of the brother who needs me the sympathy he wants, and if not, of what use am I in the world? Think what some lives are in the home circle; all the other members of the family have to devote themselves to keeping some one in a good humour. The children are anxious lest the father or perhaps the mother should be ill-tempered to-day. This so-called Christian, with the primary duty of being loving, sympathetic, considerate, is a creature of moods; father is ill-tempered to-day, and the whole house is miserable; or mother, for some reason unexplained to the children of the family, for days together allows herself to be under a cloud of gloom. And you see in a family--who has not seen it?--an amount of restless, anxious, watching, to try and prevent the ill-temper creeping over this one whose temper is of such importance to the whole family circle. And do we not constantly see that most unjust tyranny which the ill-tempered or ill-controlled member of the family has over the rest? Is such a one seated among us in this church to-day? Let him go down on his knees, and pray to be forgiven for failing in the primary duty of life, the duty of being loving and sympathetic at home. There are many courteous enough and popular enough outside, who yet at home utterly break every day of their lives the law of kindness. Let us face it on our knees, if it is so, and pray to be forgiven. It is self that does it, that miserable self which stops and chokes, as it were, the spring from working. We are so anxious to have a little more credit or a little more comfort. And it is because our eyes are fixed upon ourselves that we do not see that wounded man in front of us, and do not hear his cry for aid. It is a first condition of having sympathy to have a heart "at leisure from itself to soothe and sympathize." There are some whose lives are confined to their home circle; some girl, perhaps, who longs to go outside, but is thought too young to work for others, and thus she can do nothing in her home that seems worthy of being done for her Saviour. I would say to such, what an aim to be in the home circle, the most unselfish girl there! What an inspiration to have brothers and sisters say what a brother that one is! what a sister that one is! he or she never fails us in our hour of need. And then in our private charity, is not this the secret of the worthlessness of so much so-called charity that constantly we give not really to help the sufferer, but to save ourselves? That careless gift to the beggar in the street, or to someone who asks us for a gift--is it not constantly, not really to help that person, but to ease our own minds and consciences? It is really given to ourselves. No; what we must practise--and God knows it is hard enough in this crowded city and in this crowded life we live--what we must practise is getting down by our brother's side. We must save him from the temptation which is a curse to him; from the temptation to drink, it may be, that is ruining him. Get down by his character, look at him as Christ would look at him. What does he need? How can we help him, that poor wounded man brought across our path? We must try and give him, in the name of Christ, the very thing he needs, the character which he lacks. And so, again, with our public responsibilities. There are three figures very prominently before our eyes just now. There is, first, the overcrowded dweller in our slums--poor men and women and boys and girls, dwelling as they do nine and ten and even more in a room--that room the only place for them to eat and sleep in. It is astonishing how good and pure the boys and girls come out of such homes; but there the evil is, and it is not getting better, it is getting worse; every year makes it worse. And as we face it what are we to do? I do sometimes think, my friends, you who come from comfortable homes, you who belong to the better class, and are going from this Church to beautiful homes of your own, do not realize what it is to those brothers and sisters of yours to have only one little room to live in, what immorality it must lead to, and does lead to, what terribly stunted frames among the children, and what stunted characters. We have been, some of us, for weeks past, considering, in conference, the great problem. One of the best experts, who has studied the question for years, has made up his mind that the most hopeful remedy is to have from the centre of our great city, to every part of the great circumference of London, underground and overground means of transit to whirl away from the centre to something which may be called home the poor people who work for us. Others are still in favour of building in the slums better buildings at a cheap rate, which, as a Conservative paper this week advocated, should be helped by the State. But the point is this: Whatever plan is fixed upon by the experts and those responsible, are we ready to rise to it? Does the law of kindness touch us in our municipal work? Are we prepared, as a great Christian city, to rise to the self-sacrifice which it involves? We believe that all these schemes eventually will pay, but undoubtedly at the first there may be a call upon the self-sacrifice of Londoners to carry them out. And I would ask you to put it to your consciences whether we should gauge the rates only according to their amount. We have to watch carefully whether our public money is wasted, we have to take our share in deciding what shall be done, but we have also to consider when we are called upon as Christian citizens, to pay a little more towards a well-considered scheme to cure one of the most terrible evils in our midst, whether the law of kindness does not bid us do so. Let us send this week on to our central Council--by whatever party name they call themselves--men who have the time and the brains, and, above all, the heart, to deal with these great problems. Then we have before us prominently one we miscall the Hooligan. And we must freely admit when street ruffianism has reached a certain point, there is but one thing to do, and that is to bring in firmly and strongly the arm of the law. But can we as Christian citizens be content with the arm of the law? Is there no other arm, no other law that we are bound to try before these young lads grow up indeed ruffians who must be dealt with by the law? Are we so hopeless and helpless as to have no other power to bring in upon them? Can we not transform them as boys? Must we be content to transport them as men? And so on Friday there was inaugurated at the Mansion House a scheme for dealing with the roughest lads of our town in such a way as experience has shown does transform them from the possibility of becoming young ruffians into respectable and honest men; in other words, to apply to them in their youth the law of kindness, and so make it unnecessary to apply to them for their discipline the penalty for the breach of any other law throughout their lives. I ask you whether you as Christian citizens cannot rise to a great scheme like this to plant down in every little slum some place beside the public-house into which the lads so lovable and so full of good and so open to influence, if you will only take them in time, may come to in the evening to be trained and disciplined and taught, and so be changed that their lives may be more worthy of children of God. You cannot all personally help, but we shall be asking some of you young men to give up one evening a week and go and work these clubs. The older ones can give money; we want from you your personal help. Will you give it? And lastly, we have to-day before us the untaught child. After all is said and done, these schemes for dealing with Hooligans would be unnecessary if we really had from the very beginning an efficient scheme for teaching the young Christian principles. You are asked today to give your alms to the National Society. It is a grand thing for us of the Church of England to think that we have given for the education of the people for the last eighty years more than 10,000 pounds a week. And yet the work is failing. In God's name, because we are interested in a new scheme, let us not forsake or starve the old. And a liberal contribution to the National Society is a true response to the law of kindness. Let us take home, then, these four great lessons from the character of our late Queen--Truth in the inward parts, Moral courage throughout life, The rainbow of purity round the throne of the heart, and In the tongue the law of kindness. May God send them home to us and incorporate them into the national character, and then we shall have with us for years to come the after-glow of a great reign. 
10116	----	Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk ALL SAINTS' DAY AND OTHER SERMONS "Inheriting the zeal And from the sanctity of elder times Not deviating;--a priest, the like of whom If multiplied, and in their stations set, Would o'er the bosom of a joyful land Spread true religion, and her genuine fruits." The excursion--Book vi. PREFATORY NOTE {1} The following Sermons could not be arranged according to any proper sequence. Those, however, which refer to doctrine and the Church Seasons will mostly be found at the beginning of the volume, whilst those which deal with practical subjects are placed at the close. A few of the Sermons have already appeared in "Good Words;" but by far the greater number were never prepared by their author for the press. They were written out very roughly--sometimes at an hour's notice, as occasion demanded--and were only intended for delivery from the pulpit. The original MSS. have been adhered to as closely as possible. It is thought that many to whom the late Rector of Eversley was dear will welcome the publication of these earnest words, and find them helpful in the Christian life. "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them." SERMON I. ALL SAINTS' DAY Westminster Abbey. November 1, 1874. Revelation vii. 9-12. "After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands; and cried with a loud voice, saying, Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb. And all the angels stood round about the throne, and about the elders and the four beasts, and fell before the throne on their faces, and worshipped God, saying, Amen: Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour, and power, and might, be unto our God for ever and ever. Amen." To-day is All Saints' Day. On this day we commemorate--and, as far as our dull minds will let us, contemplate--the saints; the holy ones of God; the pure and the triumphant--be they who they may, or whence they may, or where they may. We are not bidden to define and limit their number. We are expressly told that they are a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and peoples, and tongues; and most blessed news that is for all who love God and man. We are not told, again--and I beg you all to mark this well--that this great multitude consists merely of those who, according to the popular notion, have "gone to heaven," as it is called, simply because they have not gone to hell. Not so, not so! The great multitude whom we commemorate on All Saints' Day, are SAINTS. They are the holy ones, the heroes and heroines of mankind, the elect, the aristocracy of grace. These are they who have kept themselves unspotted from the world. They are the pure who have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb, which is the spirit of self-sacrifice. They are those who carry the palm- branch of triumph, who have come out of great tribulation, who have dared, and fought, and suffered for God, and truth, and right. Nay, there are those among them, and many, thank God--weak women, too, among them--who have resisted unto blood, striving against sin. And who are easy-going folk like you and me, that we should arrogate to ourselves a place in that grand company? Not so! What we should do on All Saints' Day is to place ourselves, with all humility, if but for an hour, where we can look afar off upon our betters, and see what they are like, and what they do. And what are they like, those blessed beings of whom the text speaks? The Gospel for this day describes them to us; and we may look on that description as complete, for He who gives it is none other than our Lord Himself. "Blessed are the poor in spirit; for their's is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peace- makers: for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for their's is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven." This is what they are like; and what we, I fear, too many of us, are not like. But in proportion as we grow like them, by the grace of God, just so far shall we enter into the communion of saints, and understand the bliss of that everlasting All Saints' Day which St John saw in heaven. And what do they do, those blessed beings? Whatever else they do, or do not do, this we are told they do--they worship. They satisfy, it would seem, in perfection, that mysterious instinct of devotion--that inborn craving to look upward and adore, which, let false philosophy say what it will, proves the most benighted idolater to be a man, and not a brute--a spirit, and not a merely natural thing. They have worshipped, and so are blest. They have hungered and thirsted after righteousness, and now they are filled. They have longed for, toiled for, it may be died for, the true, the beautiful, and the good; and now they can gaze upward at the perfect reality of that which they saw on earth, only as in a glass darkly, dimly, and afar; and can contemplate the utterly free, the utterly beautiful, and the utterly good in the character of God and the face of Jesus Christ. They entered while on earth into the mystery and the glory of self-sacrifice; and now they find their bliss in gazing on the one perfect and eternal sacrifice, and rejoicing in the thought that it is the cause and ground of the whole universe, even the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world. I say not that all things are clear to them. How can they be to any finite and created being? They, and indeed angels and archangels, must walk for ever by faith, and not by sight. But if there be mysteries in the universe still hidden from them, they know who has opened the sealed book of God's secret counsels, even the Lamb who is the Lion, and the Lion who is the Lamb; and therefore, if all things are not clear to them, all things at least are bright, for they can trust that Lamb and His self-sacrifice. In Him, and through Him, light will conquer darkness, justice injustice, truth ignorance, order disorder, love hate, till God be all in all, and pain and sorrow and evil shall have been exterminated out of a world for which Christ stooped to die. Therefore they worship; and the very act of worship--understand it well--is that great reward in heaven which our Lord promised them. Adoration is their very bliss and life. It must be so. For what keener, what nobler enjoyment for rational and moral beings, than satisfaction with, and admiration of, a Being better than themselves? Therefore they worship; and their worship finds a natural vent in words most fit though few, but all expressing utter trust and utter satisfaction in the worthiness of God. Therefore they worship; and by worship enter into communion and harmony not only with each other, not only with angels and archangels, but with all the powers of nature, the four beings which are around the throne, and with every creature which is in heaven and in earth, and under the earth, and in the sea. For them, likewise, St John heard saying, "Blessing and glory, and honour, and power, be unto Him that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever." And why? I think, with all humility, that the key to all these hymns-- whether of angels or of men, or of mere natural things--is the first hymn of all; the hymn which shows that, however grateful to God for what He has done for them those are whom the Lamb has redeemed by His blood to God, out of every kindred, and nation, and tongue; yet, nevertheless, the hymn of hymns is that which speaks not of gratitude, but of absolute moral admiration--the hymn which glorifies God, not for that which He is to man, not for that which He is to the universe, but for that which He is absolutely and in Himself--that which He was before all worlds, and would be still, though the whole universe, all created things, and time, and space, and matter, and every created spirit likewise, should be annihilated for ever. And what is that? "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come." Ah! what a Gospel lies within those words! A Gospel? Ay, if you will receive it, the root of all other possible Gospels, and good news for all created beings. What a Gospel! and what an everlasting fount of comfort! Surely of those words it is true, "blessed are they who, going through the vale of misery, find therein a well, and the pools are filled with water." Know you not what I mean? Happier, perhaps, are you--the young at least among you--if you do not know. But some of you must know too well. It is to them I speak. Were you never not merely puzzled--all thinking men are that--but crushed and sickened at moments by the mystery of evil? Sickened by the follies, the failures, the ferocities, the foulnesses of mankind, for ages upon ages past? Sickened by the sins of the unholy many--sickened, alas! by the imperfections even of the holiest few? And have you never cried in your hearts with longing, almost with impatience, Surely, surely, there is an ideal Holy One somewhere, or else how could have arisen in my mind the conception, however faint, of an ideal holiness? But where, oh where? Not in the world around, strewed with unholiness. Not in myself--unholy too, without and within--seeming to myself sometimes the very worst company of all the bad company I meet, because it is the only bad company from which I cannot escape. Oh, is there a Holy One, whom I may contemplate with utter delight? and if so, where is He? Oh, that I might behold, if but for a moment, His perfect beauty, even though, as in the fable of Semele of old, the lightning of His glance were death. Nay, more, has it not happened to some here--to clergyman, lawyer, physician, perhaps, alas! to some pure-minded, noble- hearted woman--to be brought in contact perforce with that which truly sickens them--with some case of human folly, baseness, foulness--which, however much their soul revolts from it, they must handle, they must toil over many weeks and months, in hope that that which is crooked may be made somewhat straight, till their whole soul was distempered, all but degraded, by the continual sight of sin, till their eyes seemed full of nothing but the dance of death, and their ears of the gibbering of madmen, and their nostrils with the odours of the charnel house, and they longed for one breath of pure air, one gleam of pure light, one strain of pure music, to wash their spirits clean from those foul elements into which their duty had thrust them down perforce? And then, oh then, has there not come to such an one--I know that it has come--that for which his spirit was athirst, the very breath of pure air, the very gleam of pure light, the very strain of pure music, for it is the very music of the spheres, in those same words, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come;" and he has answered, with a flush of keenest joy, Yes. Whatever else is unholy, there is an Holy One, spotless and undefiled, serene and self-contained. Whatever else I cannot trust, there is One whom I can trust utterly. Whatever else I am dissatisfied with, there is One whom I can contemplate with utter satisfaction, and bathe my stained soul in that eternal fount of purity. And who is He? Who save the Cause and Maker, and Ruler of all things, past, present, and to come? Ah, Gospel of all gospels, that God Himself, the Almighty God, is the eternal and unchangeable realisation of all that I and all mankind, in our purest and our noblest moments, have ever dreamed concerning the true, the beautiful, and the good. Even though He slay me, the unholy, yet will I trust in Him. For He is Holy, Holy, Holy, and can do nothing to me, or any creature, save what He OUGHT. For He has created all things, and for His pleasure they are and were created. Whosoever has entered, though but for a moment, however faintly, partially, stupidly, into that thought of thoughts, has entered in so far into the communion of the elect; and has had his share in the everlasting All Saints' Day which is in heaven. He has been, though but for a moment, in harmony with the polity of the Living God, the heavenly Jerusalem; and with an innumerable company of angels, and the church of the first-born who are written in heaven; and with the spirits of just men made perfect, and with all past, present, and to come, in this and in all other worlds, of whom it is written, "Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are they who are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for their's is the kingdom of heaven." Great indeed is their reward, for it is no less than the very beatific vision to contemplate and adore. That supreme moral beauty, of which all earthly beauty, all nature, all art, all poetry, all music, are but phantoms and parables, hints and hopes, dim reflected rays of the clear light of that everlasting day, of which it is written--that "the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof." SERMON II. PREPARATION FOR ADVENT Westminster Abbey. November 15, 1874. Amos iv. 12. "Prepare to meet thy God, O Israel." We read to-day, for the first lesson, parts of the prophecy of Amos. They are somewhat difficult, here and there, to understand; but nevertheless Amos is perhaps the grandest of the Hebrew prophets, next to Isaiah. Rough and homely as his words are, there is a strength, a majesty, and a terrible earnestness in them, which it is good to listen to; and specially good now that Advent draws near, and we have to think of the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, and what His coming means. "Prepare to meet thy God," says Amos in the text. Perhaps he will tell us how to meet our God. Amos is specially the poor man's prophet, for he was a poor man himself; not a courtier like Isaiah, or a priest like Jeremiah, or a sage like Daniel; but a herdsman and a gatherer of sycamore fruit in Tekoa, near Bethlehem, where Amos was born. Yet to this poor man, looking after sheep and cattle on the downs, and pondering on the wrongs and misery around, the word of the Lord came, and he knew that God had spoken to him, and that he must go and speak to men, at the risk of his life, what God had bidden, against all the nations round and their kings, and against the king and nobles and priests of Israel, and the king and nobles and priests of Judah, and tell them that the day of the Lord is at hand, and that they must prepare to meet their God. And he said what he felt he must say with a noble freedom, with a true independence such as the grace of God alone can give. Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, who was worshipping (absurd as it may seem to us) God and the golden calf at the same time in King Jeroboam's court, complained loudly, it would seem, of Amos's plain speaking. How uncourteous to prophesy that Jeroboam should die by the sword, and Israel be carried captive out of their own land! Let him go home into his own land of Judah, and prophesy there; but not prophesy at Bethel, for it was the king's chapel and the king's court. Amos went, I presume, in fear of his life. But he left noble words behind him. "I was no prophet," he said to Amaziah, "nor a prophet's son, but a herdsman, and a gatherer of wild figs. And the Lord took me as I followed the flock, and said, Go, prophesy unto my people Israel." And then he turned on that smooth court-priest Amaziah, and pronounced against him, in the name of the Lord, a curse too terrible to be repeated here. Now what was the secret of this inspired herdsman's strength? What helped him to face priests, nobles, and kings? What did he believe? What did he preach? He believed and preached the kingdom of God and His righteousness; the simple but infinite difference between right and wrong; and the certain doom of wrong, if wrong was persisted in. He believed in the kingdom of God. He told the kings and the people of all the nations round, that they had committed cruel and outrageous sins, not against the Jews merely, but against each other. In the case of Moab, the culminating crime was an insult to the dead. He had burned the bones of the king of Edom into lime. In the case of Ammon, it was brutal cruelty to captive women; but in the cases of Gaza, of Tyre, and of Edom, it was slave-making and slave-trading invasions of Palestine. "Thus saith the Lord: For three transgressions of Gaza, and for four, I will not turn away the punishment thereof; because they carried away captive the whole captivity, to deliver them up to Edom. But I will send a fire upon the wall of Gaza, which shall devour the palaces thereof." Yes. Slave-hunting and slave-trading wars--that was and is an iniquity which the just and merciful Ruler of the earth would not, and will not, pardon. And honour to those who, as in Africa of late, put down those foul deeds, wheresoever they are done; who, at the risk of their own lives, dare free the captives from their chains; and who, if interfered with in their pious work, dare execute on armed murderers and manstealers the vengeance of a righteous God. For the Lord God was their King, and their Judge, whether they knew it or not. And for three transgressions of theirs, and for four, the Lord would not turn away their punishment, but would send fire and sword among them, and they should be carried away captive, as they had carried others away. But to go back. Amos next turns to his own countrymen--to Judah and Israel, who were then two separate nations. For three transgressions of Judah, and for four, the Lord would not turn away their punishment, because they had despised the law of the Lord, and had not walked in His commandments. Therefore He would send a fire on Judah, and it should devour the palaces of Jerusalem. But Amos is most bitter against Israel, against the court of King Jeroboam at Samaria, and against the rich men of Israel, the bulls of Bashan, as he calls them. For three transgressions, and for four, the Lord would not turn away their punishment. And why? Now see what I meant when I said that Amos believed not only in the kingdom of God, but in the righteousness of God. It was not merely that they were worshipping idols--golden calves at Dan, and Bethel, and Samaria, at the same time that they worshipped the true God. That was bad, but there was more behind. These men were bad, proud, luxurious, cruel; they were selling their countrymen for slaves--selling, he says so twice, as if it was some notorious and special case, an honest man for silver, and the poor for a pair of shoes. They were lying down on clothes taken on pledge by every altar. They were breaking the seventh commandment in an abominable way. They were falsifying weights and measures, and selling the refuse of the wheat. They stored up the fruits of violence and robbery in their palaces. They hated him who rebuked them, and abhorred him that spoke uprightly. They trod upon the poor and crushed the needy, and then said to their stewards, "Bring wine, and let us drink." Therefore though they had built houses of hewn stone, they should not live in them. They had planted pleasant vineyards, but should not drink of them. And all the while these superstitious and wicked rich men were talking of the day of the Lord, and hoping that the day of the Lord would appear. You, if you have read your Bibles carefully and reverently, must surely be aware that the day of the Lord, either in the Old Testament or in the New, does not mean merely the final day of judgment, but any striking event, any great crisis in the world's history, which throws a divine light upon that history, and shows to men--at least to those who have eyes wherewith to see--that verily there is a God who judges the earth in righteousness, and ministers true judgment among the people;--a God whom men, and all their institutions, should always be prepared to meet, lest coming suddenly, He find them sleeping. If you are not aware of this, the real meaning of a day of the Lord, a day of the Son of Man, let me entreat you to go and search the Scriptures for yourselves; for in them ye think ye have eternal life, and they are they which testify of the Lord, of that Eternal Son of whom the second Psalm speaks, in words which mobs and tyrants, the atheist and the superstitious, are alike willing to forget. In the time of Amos, the rich tyrants of Israel seem to have meant by the day of the Lord some vague hope that, in those dark and threatening times, God would interfere to save them, if they were attacked by foreign armies. But woe to you that desire the day of the Lord, says Amos the herdsman. What do you want with it? You will find it very different from what you expect. There is a day of the Lord coming, he says, therefore prepare to meet your God. But you are unprepared, and you will find the day of the Lord very different from what you expect. It will be a day in which you will learn the righteousness of God. Because He is righteous He will not suffer your unrighteousness. Because He is good, He will not permit you to be bad. The day of the Lord to you will be darkness and not light, not as you dream deliverance from the invaders, but ruin by the invaders, from which will be no escape. "As if a man did flee from a lion, and a bear met him; or went into the house and leaned his hand on the wall, and a serpent bit him." There will be no escape for those wicked men. Though they dug into hell, God's hand would take them; though they climbed up into heaven, God would fetch them down; though they hid in the bottom of the sea, God would command the serpent, and it should bite them. He would sift the house of Israel among all nations like corn in a sieve, and not a grain should fall to the earth. And all the sinners among God's people should die by the sword, who say, "The evil shall not overtake us." This was Amos's notion of the kingdom of God and His righteousness. These Israelites would not obey the laws of God's kingdom, and be righteous and good. But Amos told them, they could not get rid of God's kingdom. The Lord was King, in spite of them, and they would find it out to their sorrow. If they would not seek His kingdom and His government, His government would seek them and find them, and find their evil-doings out. If they would not seek God's righteousness, His righteousness would seek them, and execute righteous judgment on them. No wonder that the Israelites thought Amos a most troublesome and insolent person. No wonder that the smooth priest Amaziah begged him to begone and talk in that way somewhere else. He saw plainly enough that either Amos must leave Samaria, or he must leave it. The two could no more work together than fire and water. Amos wanted to make men repent of their sins, while Amaziah wanted only to make them easy in their minds; and no man can do both at once. So it was then, my friends, and so it will be till the end of this wicked world. The way to please men, and be popular, always was, and always will be, Amaziah's way; to tell men that they may worship God and the golden calf at the same time, that they may worship God and money, worship God and follow the ways of this wicked world which suit their fancy and their interest; to tell them the kingdom of God is not over you now, Christ is not ruling the world now; that the kingdom of God will only come, when Christ comes at the last day, and meanwhile, if people will only believe what they are told, and live tolerably respectable lives, they may behave in all things else as if there was no God, and no judgments of God. Seeking the righteousness of God, say these preachers of Amaziah's school, only means, that if Christ's righteousness is imputed to you need not be righteous yourselves, but will go to heaven without having been good men here on earth. That is the comfortable message which the world delights to hear, and for which the world will pay a high price to its flatterers. But if any man dares to tell his fellow-men what Amos told them, and say, The kingdom of God is among you, and within you, and over you, whether you like or not, and you are in it; the Lord is King, be the people never so unquiet; and all power is given to Him in heaven and earth already; and at the last great day, when He comes in glory, He will show that He has been governing the world and the inhabitants thereof all along, whether they cared to obey Him or not:--if he tell men, that the righteousness of God means this--to pray for the Spirit of God and of Christ, that they may be perfect as their Father in heaven is perfect, and holy as Christ is holy, for without holiness no man shall see the Lord: if he tell men, that the wrath of God was revealed from heaven at the fall of man, and has been revealed continuously ever since, against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, that indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish will fall upon every soul of man that doeth evil; and glory, honour, and peace to every man that worketh good:--when a man dares to preach that, he is no more likely to be popular with the wicked world (for it is a wicked world) than Amos was popular, or St Paul was popular, or our Lord Jesus Christ, who gave both to Amos and to St Paul their messages, was popular. False preachers will dislike that man, because he wishes to make sinners uneasy, while they wish to make them easy. Philosophers, falsely so-called, will dislike that man, because he talks of the kingdom of God, the providence of God, and they are busy--at least, just now--in telling men that there is no providence and no God-- at least, no living God. The covetous and worldly will dislike that man, for they believe that the world is governed, not by God, but by money. Politicians will dislike that man, because they think that not God, but they, govern the world, by those very politics and knavish tricks, which we pray God to confound, whenever we sing "God save the Queen." And the common people--the masses--who ought to hear such a man gladly, for his words are to them, if they would understand them, a gospel, and good news of divine hope and deliverance from sin and ignorance, oppression and misery--the masses, I say, will dislike that man, because he tells them that God's will is law, and must be obeyed at all risks: and the poor fools have got into their heads just now that not God's will, but the will of the people, is law, and that not the eternal likeness of God, but whatever they happen to decide by the majority of the moment, is right. And so such a preacher will not be popular with the many. They will dismiss him, at best, as they might a public singer or lecturer, with compliments and thanks, and so excuse themselves from doing what he tells them. And he must look for his sincere hearers in the hearts of those-- and there are such, I verily believe, in this congregation--who have a true love and a true fear of Christ, their incarnate God--who believe, indeed, that Christ is their King, and the King of all the earth; who think that to please Him is the most blessed, as well as the most profitable, thing which man can do; to displease Him the most horrible, as well as the most dangerous, thing which man can do; and who, therefore, try to please Him by becoming like Him, by really renouncing the world and all its mean and false and selfish ways, and putting on His new pattern of man, which is created after God's likeness in righteousness and true holiness. Blessed are they, for of them it is written, "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled." Even Christ Himself shall fill them. Blessed are they, and all that they take in hand, for of them it is written, "Blessed are all they that fear the Lord, and walk in His ways. For thou shalt eat the labours of thine hands." "The Lord is righteous in all His ways, and holy in all His works. The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon Him, yea, all such as call upon Him faithfully. He will fulfil the desire of them that fear Him. He also will hear their cry"--ay, "and will help them." Happy, ay, blest will such souls be, let the day of the Lord appear when it will, or how it will. It may appear--the day of the Lord, as it has appeared again and again in history--in the thunder of some mighty war. It may appear after some irresistible, though often silent revolution, whether religious or intellectual, social or political. It will appear at last, as that great day of days, which will conclude, so we believe, the drama of human history, and all men shall give account for their own works. But, however and whenever it shall appear, they at least will watch its dawning, neither with the selfish assurance of modern Pharisaism, nor with the abject terror of mediaeval superstition; but with that manful faith with which he who sang the 98th Psalm saw the day of the Lord dawn once in the far east, more than two thousand years ago, and cried with solemn joy, in the glorious words which you have just heard sung--words which the Church of England has embodied in her daily evening service, in order, I presume, to show her true children how they ought to look at days of judgment; and so prepare to meet their God:-- "Show yourselves joyful unto the Lord, all ye lands: sing, rejoice, and give thanks. "Let the sea make a noise, and all that therein is: the round world, and they that dwell therein. "Let the floods clap their hands, and let the hills be joyful together before the Lord: for He cometh to judge the earth. "With righteousness shall He judge the world: and the people with equity. "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost; "As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen." SERMON III. THE PURIFYING HOPE Eversley, 1869. Windsor Castle, 1869. 1 John iii. 2. "Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is. And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure." Let us consider this noble text, and see something, at least, of what it has to tell us. It is, like all God's messages, all God's laws, ay, like God's world in which we live and breathe, at once beautiful and awful; full of life-giving hope; but full, too, of chastening fear. Hope for the glorious future which it opens to poor human beings like us; fear, lest so great a promise being left us, we should fall short of it by our own fault. Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed on us, that we should be called the sons of God. There is the root and beginning of all Christianity,--of all true religion. We are the sons of God, and the infinite, absolute, eternal Being who made this world, and all worlds, is our Father. We are the children of God. It is not for us to say who are not God's children. That is God's concern, not ours. All that we have to do with, is the awful and blessed fact that we are. We were baptised into God's kingdom, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Let us believe the Gospel and good news which baptism brings us, and say each of us;--Not for our own goodness and deserving; not for our own faith or assurance; not for anything which we have thought, felt, or done, but simply out of the free grace and love of God, seeking out us unconscious infants, we are children of God. "Beloved now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be." It doth not yet appear what the next life will be like, or what we shall be like in it. That there will be a next life,--that death does not end all for us, the New Testament tells us. Yea, our own hearts and reasons tell us. That sentiment of immortality, that instinct that the death of our body will not, cannot destroy our souls, or ourselves--all men have had that, except a few; and it is a question whether they had it not once, and have only lost it by giving way to their brute animal nature. But be that as it may, it concerns us, I think, very little. For we at least believe that we shall live again. That we shall live again in some state or other, is as certain to our minds as it was to the minds of our forefathers, even while they were heathens; as certain to us as it is that we are alive now. But in that future state, what we shall be like, we know not. St. John says that he did not know; and we certainly have no more means of knowing than St. John. Therefore let us not feed our fancies with pictures of what the next world will be like,--pictures, I say, which are but waking dreams of men, intruding into those things which they have not seen, vainly puffed up in their fleshly minds--that is in their animal and mortal brain. Let us be content with what St. John tells us, which is a matter not for our brains, but for our hearts; not for our imaginations, but for our conscience, which is indeed our highest reason. Whatever we do not know about the next world, this, he says, we do know,--that when God in Christ shall appear, we shall be like Him. Like God. No more: No: but no less. To be like God, it appears, is the very end and aim of our being. That we might be like God, God our Father sent us forth from His eternal bosom, which is the ground of all life, in heaven and in earth. That we might be like God, He clothed us in mortal flesh, and sent us into this world of sense. That we might be like God, He called us, from our infancy, into His Church. That we might be like God, He gave us the divine sense of right and wrong; and more, by the inspiration of His holy spirit, that inward witness, that Light of God, which lightens every man that cometh into the world, He taught us to love the right and hate the wrong. That we might be like God, God is educating us from our cradle to our grave, by every event, even the smallest, which happens to us. That we might be like God, it is in God that we live, and move, and have our being; that as the raindrop which falls from heaven, rises again surely, soon or late, to heaven again; so each soul of man, coming forth from God at first, should return again to God, as many of them as have eternal life, having become like to God from whom it came at first. And how shall we become like God? or rather like Christ who is both God and man? To become like God the Father,--that is impossible for finite and created beings as we are. But to become somewhat, at least, like God the Son, like Jesus Christ our Lord, who is the brightness of His Father's glory, and the express image of His person, that is not impossible. For He has revealed Himself as a man, in the soul and body of a man, that our sinful souls might be made like His pure soul; our sinful bodies like His glorious body; and that so He might be the first born among many brethren. And how? "We know that when He appears, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is." For we shall see Him as He is. Herein is a great mystery, and one which I do not pretend to fathom. Only this I can try to do--to shew how it may seem possible and reasonable, from what is called analogy, that is by judging of an unknown thing from a known thing, which is, at least, something like it. Now do we not all know how apt we are to become like those whom we see, with whom we spend our hours--and, above all, like those whom we admire and honour? For good and for evil, alas! For evil- -for those who associate with evil or frivolous persons are too apt to catch not only their low tone, but their very manner, their very expression of face, speaking, and thinking, and acting. Not only do they become scornful, if they live with scorners; false, if they live with liars; mean, if they live with covetous men; but they will actually catch the very look of their faces. The companions of affected, frivolous people, men or women, grow to look affected frivolous. Indulging in the same passions, they mould their own countenances and their very walk, also the very tones of their voice, as well as their dress, into the likeness of those with whom they associate, nay, of those whose fashions (as they are called) they know merely by books and pictures. But thank God, who has put into the hearts of Christian people the tendency towards God--just in the same way does good company tend to make men good; high- minded company to make them high-minded; kindly company to make them kindly; modest company to make them modest; honourable company to make them honourable; and pure company to make them pure. If the young man or woman live with such, look up to such as their ideal, that is, the pattern which they ought to emulate--then, as a fact, the Spirit of God working in them does mould them into something of the likeness of those whom they admire and love. I have lived long enough to see more than one man of real genius stamp his own character, thought, even his very manner of speaking, for good or for evil, on a whole school or party of his disciples. It has been said, and truly, I believe, that children cannot be brought up among beautiful pictures,--I believe, even among any beautiful sights and sounds,--without the very expression of their faces becoming more beautiful, purer, gentler, nobler; so that in them are fulfilled the words of the great and holy Poet concerning the maiden brought up according to God, and the laws of God-- "And she shall bend her ear In many a secret place, Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty, born of murmuring sound, Shall pass into her face." But if mere human beings can have this "personal influence," as it is called, over each others' characters, if even inanimate things, if they be beautiful, can have it--what must be the personal influence of our Lord Jesus Christ? Of Him, who is the Man of all men, the Son of Man, the perfect and ideal Man--and more, who is very God of very God; the Author of all life, power, wisdom, genius, in every human being, whether they use to good, or abuse to ill, His divine gifts; the Author, too, of all natural beauty, from the sun over our heads to the flower beneath our feet? Think of that steadily, accurately, rationally. Think of who Christ is, and what Christ is--and then think what His personal influence must be--quite infinite, boundless, miraculous. So that the very blessedness of heaven will not be merely the sight of our Lord; it will be the being made holy, and kept holy, by that sight. If only we be fit for it. For let us ask ourselves the question,--If St John's words come true of us, if we should see Him as He is, would the sight of His all- glorious countenance warm us into such life, love, longing for virtue and usefulness, as we never felt before? Or would it crush us into the very earth with utter shame and humiliation, full and awful knowledge of how weak and foolish, sinful and unworthy we were?--as it does to Gerontius in the poem, when he dreams that, after death, he demanded, rashly and ambitiously, to see our Lord, and had his wish. That is the question which every one must try to answer for himself in fear and trembling, for, he that hath this hope in Him purifieth himself, even as He is pure. The common sense of men--which is often their conscience and highest reason--has taught them this, more or less clearly, in all countries and all ages. There are very few religions which have not made purifying of some kind a part of their duty. The very savage, when he enters (as he fancies) the presence of his god, will wash and adorn himself that he may be fit, poor creature, for meeting the paltry god which he has invented out of his own brain; and he is right as far as he goes. The Englishman, when he dresses himself in his best to go to church, obeys the same reasonable instinct. And, indeed, is not holy baptism a sign that this instinct is a true one?--that if God be pure, he who enters the presence of God must purify himself, even as God is pure? Else why, when each person, whether infant or adult, is received into Christ's Church, is washing with water, whether by sprinkling, as now, or, as of old, by immersion, the very sign and sacrament of his being received into God's kingdom? The instinct, I say, is reasonable, and has its root in the very heart of man. Whatsoever we respect and admire we shall also try to copy, if it be only for a time. If we are going into the presence of a wiser man than ourselves, we shall surely recollect and summon up what little wisdom or knowledge we may have; if into the presence of a holier person, we shall try to call up in ourselves those better and more serious thoughts which we so often forget, that we may be, even for a few minutes, fit for that good company. And if we go into the presence of a purer person than ourselves, we shall surely (unless we be base and brutal) call up our purest and noblest thoughts, and try to purify ourselves, even as they are pure. It is true what poets have said again and again, that there are women whose mere presence, whose mere look, drives all bad thoughts away--women before whom men dare no more speak, or act, nay, even think, basely, than they would dare before the angels of God. But if it be so--and so it is--what must we be, to be fit to appear before Him who is Purity itself?--before that spotless Christ in whom is no sin and who knows what is in man; who is quick and piercing as a two- edged sword, even to the dividing asunder of the joints and marrow, so that all things are naked and open in the sight of Him with whom we have to do? What purity can we bring into His presence which will not seem impure to Him? What wisdom which will not seem folly? What humility which will not seem self-conceit? What justice which will not seem unjust? What love which will not seem hardness of heart, in the sight of Him who charges His angels with folly, and the very heavens are not clean in His sight? Who loved Him better, and whom did He love better, than St John? Yet, what befel St John when, in the spirit, he saw Him even somewhat as He is?--"And I fell at His feet as dead." If St John himself was struck down with awe, what shall we feel, even the best and purest among us? All we can do is to cast ourselves, now and for ever, in life, in death, and in the day of judgment, on His boundless mercy and love-- who stooped from heaven to die for us and cry, God be merciful to me a sinner. Therefore, I have many fears for some who are ready enough to talk of their fulness of hope and their assurance of salvation, and to join in hymns which express weariness of this life and longings for the joys of heaven, and prayers that they may depart and be with Christ. If they are not in earnest in such words they mock God; but if they are in earnest, some of them, I fear much, tempt God. What if He took them at their word? What if He gave them their wish? What if they departed and entered the presence of Christ, only to meet with a worse fate than that of Gerontius? Only to be overwhelmed with shame and terror, because, though they have been talking of being with Christ, they have not been trying to be like Christ; because they have not sought after holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord; because they have not tried to purify themselves, even as He is pure; and have, poor, heedless souls, gone out of the world, with all their sins upon their head, to enter a place for which they will find themselves utterly unfit, because it is a place into which nothing can enter which defileth, or committeth abomination, or maketh a lie, and from which the covetous are specially excluded; and in which will be fulfilled the parable of the man who came to the feast, not having on a wedding garment,--Take him, bind him hand and foot, and cast him into the outer darkness. There shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Assurance, my friends, may be reasonable enough when it is founded on repentance and hatred of evil, and love and practice of what is good. But, again, assurance may be as unreasonable as it is offensive. We blame a man who has too much assurance about earthly things. Let us beware that we have not too much assurance about heavenly things. For our assurance will surely be too great, unreasonable, built upon the sand, if it be built on mere self-conceit of our own orthodoxy, and our own privileges, or our own special connection with God. Meanwhile it has been my comfort to meet with some--would God they were more numerous--who, instead of talking of their assurance of salvation, lived in a state of noble self-discontent and holy humility; who could see nothing but their own faults and failings; who, though they were holier than others, considered themselves as unholy; though they were doing more good than others, thought themselves useless; whose standard of duty was so lofty, that they could think of nothing, but how far they had failed in reaching it; who measured themselves, not by other men, but by Christ Himself; and, doing that, had nought to say, save, "God be merciful to me a sinner." And for such people I have had full assurance, just because they had no assurance themselves. And I have said in my heart, These are worthy, just because they think themselves unworthy. These are fit to appear in the presence of God, just because they believe themselves unfit. These are they who will cry at the day of judgment, in wondering humility,--Lord, when saw we Thee hungry, or thirsty, or naked, or in prison, and visited Thee? And will receive for answer,--"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me." "Thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of thy Lord." To which end may God of His mercy bring us, and all we love. Amen. SERMON IV. THE LORD COMING TO HIS TEMPLE Westminster Abbey. November, 1874. Malachi iii. 1, 2. "The Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to His temple. . . . But who may abide the day of His coming? and who shall stand when He appeareth? for He is like a refiner's fire, and like fuller's sope." We believe that this prophecy was fulfilled at the first coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. We believe that it will be fulfilled again, in that great day when He shall judge the quick and the dead. But it is of neither of these events I wish to speak to you just now. I wish to speak of an event which has not (as far as we know) happened; which will probably never happen; but which is still perfectly possible; and one, too, which it is good for us to face now and then, and ask ourselves, If this thing came to pass, what should I think, and what should I do? I shall touch the question with all reverence and caution. I shall try to tread lightly, as one who is indeed on hallowed ground. For the question which I have dared to ask you and myself is none other than this--If the Lord suddenly came to this temple, or any other in this land; if He appeared among us, as He did in Judea eighteen hundred years ago, what should we think of Him? Should we recognise, or should we reject, our Saviour and our Lord? It is an awful thought, the more we look at it. But for that very reason it may be the more fit to be asked, once and for all. Now, to put this question safely and honestly, we must keep within those words which I just said--as He appeared in Judea eighteen hundred years ago. We must limit our fancy to the historic Christ, to the sayings, doings, character which are handed down to us in the four Gospels; and ask ourselves nothing but--What should I think if such a personage were to meet me now? To imagine Him--as has been too often done--as doing deeds, speaking words, and even worse, entertaining motives, which are not written in the four Gospels, is as unfair morally, as it is illogical critically. It creates a phantom, a fictitious character, and calls that Christ. It makes each writer, each thinker--or rather dreamer--however shallow his heart and stupid his brain--and all our hearts are but too shallow, and all our brains too stupid--the measure of a personage so vast and so unique, that all Christendom for eighteen hundred years has seen in Him, and we of course hold seen truly, the Incarnate God. No; we must think of nothing save what is set down in Holy Writ. And yet, alas! we cannot use in our days, that which eighteen hundred years ago was the most simple and obvious test of our Lord's truthfulness, namely His miraculous powers. The folly and sin of man have robbed us of what is, as it were, one of the natural rights of reasoning, man. Lying prodigies and juggleries, forged and pretended miracles, even--oh, shame!--imitations of His most sacred wounds, have, up to our own time, made all rational men more and more afraid of aught which seems to savour of the miraculous; till most of us, I think, would have to ask forgiveness--as I myself should have to ask,--if, tantalized and insulted again and again by counterfeit miracles, we failed to recognise real miracles, and Him who performed them. Therefore, for good or evil, we should be driven back upon that test alone, which, after all, perhaps, is the most sure as well as the most convincing--the moral test- -the test of character. What manner of personage would He be did He condescend to appear among us? Of that, thank God, the Gospels ought to leave us in no doubt. What acts He might condescend to perform, what words He might condescend to speak, it is not for such beings as we to guess. But how He would demean Himself we know; for Holy Writ has told us how He demeaned Himself in Judea eighteen hundred years ago; and He is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever, and can be only like Himself. But should we know Him merely by His bearing and character? Should we see in Him an utterly ideal personage--The Son of Man, and therefore, ere we lost sight of Him once more, the Son of God? Let us think. First, therefore, we must believe that--as in Judea of old--Christ would meet men with all consideration and courtesy. He would not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax. He would not strive, nor cry, nor let His voice be heard in the streets. He would not cause any of God's little ones to offend, to stumble. In plain words, He would not shock and repel them by any conduct of His. Therefore, as in Judea of old, He would be careful of, even indulgent to, the usages of society, as long as they were innocent. He would never outrage the code of manners, however imperfect, however conventional, which this or any other civilised nation may have agreed on, to express and keep up respect, self-restraint, delicacy, of man toward man, of man toward woman, of the young ward the old, of the living toward the dead. No. As I said just now, He would never cause, by any act or word of His, one of God's little ones to stumble and fall away. I used just now that word MANNERS. Let me beg your very serious attention to it. I use it, remember, in its true, its ancient--that is, in its moral and spiritual sense. I use it as the old Greeks, the old Romans, used their corresponding words; as our wise forefathers used it, when they said well, that "Manners maketh man;" that manners are at once the efficient cause of a man's success, and the proof of his deserving to succeed: the outward and visible sign of whatsoever inward and spiritual grace, or disgrace, there may be in him. I mean by the word what our Lord meant when He reproved the pushing and vulgar arrogance of the Scribes and Pharisees, and laid down the golden rule of all good manners, "Whosoever will be great among you, let him be your minister; and whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant." Next, I beg you to remember that all, or almost all, good manners which we have among us--courtesies, refinements, self-restraint, and mutual respect--all which raises us, socially and morally, above our forefathers of fifteen hundred years ago--deep-hearted men, valiant and noble, but coarse, and arrogant, and quarrelsome--all that, or almost all, we owe to Christ, to the influence of His example, and to that Bible which testifies of Him. Yes, the Bible has been for Christendom, in the cottage as much as in the palace, the school of manners; and the saying that he who becomes a true Christian becomes a true gentleman, is no rhetorical boast, but a solid historic fact. Now imagine Christ to reappear on earth, with that perfect outward beauty of character--with what Greeks and Romans, and our own ancestors, would have called those perfect manners--which, if we are to believe the Gospels, He shewed in Judea of old, which won then so many hearts, especially of the common people, sounder judges often of true nobility than many who fancy themselves their betters. Conceive--but which of us can conceive?--His perfect tenderness, patience, sympathy, graciousness, and grace, combined with perfect strength, stateliness, even awfulness, when awe was needed. Remember that, if, again, the Gospels are to be believed. He alone, of all personages of whom history tells us, solved in His own words and deeds the most difficult paradox of human character- -to be at once utterly conscious, and yet utterly unconscious, of self; to combine with perfect self-sacrifice a perfect self-assertion. Whether or not His being able to do that proved Him to have been that which He was, the Son of God, it proves Him at least to have been the Son of Man-- the unique and unapproachable ideal of humanity, utterly inspired by the Holy Spirit of God. But again: He condescended, in His teaching of old, to the level of Jewish, knowledge at that time. We may, therefore, believe that He would condescend to the level of our modern knowledge; and what would that involve? It would leave Him, however less than Himself, at least master of all that the human race has thought or discovered in the last eighteen hundred years. Think of that. And think again, that if He condescended, as in Judea of old, to employ that knowledge in teaching men--He who knew what was in man, and needed not that any should bear witness to Him of man--He would manifest a knowledge of human nature to which that of a Shakspeare would be purblind and dull; a knowledge of which the Scripture nobly says that "The Word of God is quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart;" so that all "things are naked and opened unto the eyes of Him with whom we have to do." And consider that, in the light of that knowledge, He might adapt himself as perfectly to us of this great city, as He did to the villagers of Galilee, or to the townsmen of Jerusalem. Consider, again, that He who spoke as never man yet spake in Jerusalem, might speak as man never yet spoke on English soil; that He who was listened to gladly once, because He spake with authority, and not as the scribes, at second hand, and by rule and precedent, might be listened to gladly here once more. For He might speak here, not as we poor scribes can speak at best, but with an authority, originality, earnestness, as well as an eloquence, which might exercise a fascination, which would be, to all with whom He came in contact, what Malachi calls it, "a refiner's fire"--most purifying, though often most painful to the very best; a fascination which might be to every one who came under its spell a veritable Judgment and Day of the Lord, shewing each man with fearful clearness to which side he really inclined at heart in the struggle between truth and falsehood, good and evil; a fascination, therefore, equally attractive to those who wished to do right, and intolerable to those who wished to do wrong. Consider that last thought. And consider, too, that those to whom the fascination of such a personage might be so intolerable, that it might turn to utter hate, would probably be those whose moral sense was so perverted, that they thought they were doing right when they were doing wrong, and speaking truth when they were telling lies. It is an awful thought. But we know that there were such men, and too many, among the scribes and Pharisees of Jerusalem. And human nature is the same in every age. Be that as it may--however retired His life, He could not long be hid. He would shortly exercise, almost without attempting it, an enormous public influence. But yet, as in Judea of old, would He not be only too successful? Would He not be at once too liberal for some, and too exacting for others? Would He not, as in Judea of old, encounter not merely the active envy of the vain and the ambitious, which would follow one who spoke as never man spoke; not merely the active malignity of those who wish their fellow- creatures to be bad and not good; not merely the bigotry of every sect and party; but that mere restless love of new excitements, and that dull fear and suspicion of new truths, and even of old truths in new words, which beset the uneducated of every rank and class, and in no age more than in our own? And therefore I must ask, in sober sadness, how long would His influence last? It lasted, we know, in Judea of old, for some three years. And then--. But I am not going to say that any such tragedy is possible now. It would be an insult to Him; an insult to the gracious influences of His Spirit, the gracious teaching of His Church, to say that of our generation, however unworthy we may be of our high calling in Christ. And yet, if He had appeared in any country of Christendom only four hundred years ago, might He not have endured an even more dreadful death than that of the cross? But doubtless, no personal harm would happen to Him here. Only there might come a day, in which, as in Judea of old, "after He had said these things, many were offended, and walked no more with Him:" when his hearers and admirers would grow fewer and more few, some through bigotry, some through envy, some through fickleness, some through cowardice, till He was left alone with a little knot of earnest disciples; who might diminish, alas, but too rapidly, when they found at He, as in Judea of old, did not intend to become the head of a new sect, and to gratify their ambition and vanity by making them His delegates. And so the world, the religious world as well as the rest, might let Him go His way, and vanish from the eyes and minds of men, leaving behind little more than a regret that one so gifted and so fascinating should have proved--I hardly like to say the words, and yet they must be said--so unsafe and so unsound a teacher. I shall not give now the reasons which have led me, and not in haste, to this melancholy conclusion. I shall only say that I have come to it, with pain, and shame, and fear. With shame and fear. For when I ask you the solemn question, Would you know Christ if He came among you? do I not ask myself a question which I dare not answer? How can I tell whether I should recognise, after all, my Saviour and my Lord? How do I know that if He said (as He but too certainly might), something which clashed seriously with my preconceived notions of what He ought to say, I should not be offended, and walk no more with Him? How do I know that if He said, as in Judea of old, "Will ye too go away?" I should answer with St Peter, "Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life, and we believe and are sure that thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God?" I dare not ask that question of myself. How then dare I ask it of you? I know not. I can only say, "Lord, I believe: help thou mine unbelief." I know not. But this I know--that in this or any other world, if you or I did recognise Him, it would be with utter shame and terror, unless we had studied and had striven to copy either Himself, or whatsoever seems to us most like Him. Yes; to study the good, the beautiful, and the true in Him, and wheresoever else we find it--for all that is good, beautiful, and true throughout the universe are nought but rays from Him, the central sun--to obey St. Paul of old, and "whatsoever things are true, venerable, just, pure, lovely, and of good report--if there be any virtue and if there be any praise, to think on these things,"--on these scattered fragmentary sacraments of Him whose number is not two, nor seven, "but seventy-times seven;" that is the way--I think, the only way--to be ready to recognise our Saviour, and to prepare to meet our God; that He may be to us, too, as a refiner's fire, and refine us--our thoughts, our deeds, our characters throughout. And I think, too, that this is the way, perhaps the only way, to rid ourselves of the fancy that we can be accounted righteous before God for any works or deservings of our own. Those in whom that fancy lingers must have but a paltry standard of what righteousness is, a mean conception of moral--that is, spiritual--perfection. But those who look not inwards, but upwards; not at themselves, but at Christ and all spiritual perfection--they become more and more painfully aware of their own imperfections. The beauty of Christ's character shows them the ugliness of their own. His purity shows them their own foulness. His love their own hardness. His wisdom their own folly. His strength their own weakness. The higher their standard rises, the lower falls their estimate of themselves; till, in utter humiliation and self-distrust, they seek comfort ere alone it can be found--in FAITH--in utter faith and trust in that very moral perfection of Christ which shames and dazzles them, and yet is their only hope. To trust in Him for themselves and all they love. To trust that, just because Christ is so magnificent, He will pity, and not despise, our meanness. Just because He is so pure, and righteous, and true, and lovely, He will appreciate, and not abhor, our struggles after purity, righteousness, truth, love, however imperfect, however soiled with failure--and with worse. Just because He is so unlike us, He will smile graciously upon out feeblest attempts to be like Him. Just because He has borne the sins and carried the sorrows of mankind, therefore those who come to Him He will in no wise cast out. Amen. SERMON V. ADVENT LESSONS Westminster Abbey, First Sunday in Advent, 1873. Romans vii. 22-25. "I delight in the law of God after the inward man: but I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death? I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord." This is the first Sunday in Advent. To-day we have prayed that God would give us grace to put away the works of darkness, and put on us the armour of light. Next Sunday we shall pray that, by true understanding of the Scriptures, we may embrace and hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life. The Sunday after that the ministers and stewards of God's mysteries may prepare His way by turning the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just--the next, that His grace and mercy may speedily help and deliver us from the sins which hinder us in running the race set before us. But I do not think that we shall understand those collects, or indeed the meaning of Advent itself, or the reason why we keep the season of Advent year by year, unless we first understand the prayer which we offered up last Sunday, "Stir up, O Lord, the wills of Thy faithful people,"--and we shall understand that prayer just in proportion as we have in us the Spirit of God, or the spirit of the world, which is the spirit of unbelief. Worldly people say--and say openly, just now--that this prayer is all a dream. They say God will not stir up men's wills to do good any more than to do harm. He leaves men to themselves to get through life as they can. This Heavenly Father of whom you speak will not give His holy spirit to those who ask Him. He does not, as one of your Collects says, put into men's minds good desires--they come to a man entirely from outside a man, from his early teaching, his youthful impressions, as they are called now-a-days. He does not either give men grace and power to put these desires into practice. That depends entirely on the natural strength of a man's character; and that, again, depends principally on the state of his brain. So, says the world, if you wish your own character to improve, you must improve it yourself, for God will not improve it for you. But, after all, why should you try to improve? why not be content to be just what you are? you did not make yourself, and you are not responsible for being merely what God has chosen to make you. This is what worldly men say, or at least what they believe and act on; and this is the reason why there is so little improvement in the world, because men do not ask God to improve their hearts and stir up their wills. I say, very little improvement. Men talk loudly of the enlightenment of the age, and the progress of the species, and the spread of civilisation, and so forth: but when I read old books, and compare old times with these, I confess I do not see so much of it as all this hopeful talk would lead me to expect. Men in general have grown more prudent, more cunning, from long experience. They have found out that certain sins do not pay--that is, they interfere with people's comfort and their power of making money, and therefore they prudently avoid them themselves, and put them down by law in other men's cases. Men have certainly grown more good-natured, in some countries, in that they dislike more than their ancestors did, to inflict bodily torture on human beings; but they are just as ready, or even more ready, to inflict on those whom they dislike that moral and mental torture which to noble souls is worse than any bodily pain. As for any real improvement in human nature--where is it? There is just as much falsehood, cheating, and covetousness, I believe, in the world as ever there was; just as much cant and hypocrisy, and perhaps more; just as much envy, hatred, malice and all uncharitableness. Is not the condition of the masses in many great cities as degraded and as sad as ever was that of the serfs in the middle ages? Do not the poor still die by tens of thousands of fevers, choleras, and other diseases, which we know perfectly how to prevent, and yet have not the will to prevent? Is not the adulteration of food just now as scandalous as it is unchecked? The sins and follies of human nature have been repressed in one direction only to break out another. And as for open and coarse sin, people complain even now, and I fear with justice, that there is more drunkenness in England at this moment than there ever was. So much for our boasted improvement. Look again at the wars of the world. Five-and-twenty years ago, one used to be told that the human race was grown too wise to go to war any more, and that we were to have an advent of universal peace and plenty, and since then we have seen some seven great wars, the last the most terrible of all,--and ever since, all the nations of Europe have been watching each other in distrust and dread, increasing their armaments, working often night and day at forging improved engines of destruction, wherewith to kill their fellow-men. Not that I blame that. It is necessary. Yes! but the hideous thing is, that it should be necessary. Does that state of things look much like progress of the human race? Can we say that mankind is much improved, either in wisdom or in love, while all the nations of Europe are spending millions merely to be ready to fight they know not whom, they know not why? No, my good friends, obey the wise man, and clear your minds of cant-- man's pretensions, man's boastfulness, man's power of blinding his own eyes to plain facts--above all, to the plain fact that he does not succeed, even in this world of which he fancies himself the master, because he lives without God in the world. All this saddens, I had almost said, sickens, a thoughtful man, till he turns away from this noisy sham improvement of mankind--the wages of sin, which are death, to St John's account of the true improvement of mankind, the true progress of the species,--the gift of God which is eternal life. "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away. And I saw the Holy City--New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away." Does that sound much like a general increase of armaments? or like bills for the prevention of pestilence, or of drunkenness,--which, even if they pass, will both probably fail to do the good which they propose? No. And if this wicked world is to be mended, then God must stir up the wills of His faithful people, and we must pray without ceasing for ourselves, and for all for whom we are bound to pray, that He would stir them up. For what we want is not knowledge; we have enough of that, and too much. Too much; for knowing so much and doing so little, what an account will be required of us at the last day! No. It is the will which we want, in a hundred cases. Take that of pestilential dwelling-houses in our great towns. Every one knows that they ought to be made healthy; every one knows that they can be made healthy. But the will to make them healthy is not here, and they are left to breed disease and death. And so, as in a hundred instances, shallow philosophers are proved, by facts, to be mistaken, when they tell us that man will act up to the best of his knowledge without God's help. For that is exactly what man does not. What is wrong with the world in general, is wrong likewise more or less with you and me, and with all human beings; for after all, the world is made up of human beings; and the sin of the world is nothing save the sins of each and all human beings put together; and the world will be renewed and come right again, just as far and no farther, as each human being is renewed and comes right. The only sure method, therefore, of setting the world right, is to begin by setting our own little part of the world right--in a word, setting ourselves right. But if we begin to try, that, we find, is just what we cannot do. When a man begins to hunger and thirst after righteousness, and, discontented with himself, attempts to improve himself, he soon begins to find a painful truth in many a word of the Bible and the Prayer Book to which he gave little heed, as long as he was contented with himself, and with doing just what pleased him, right or wrong. He soon finds out that he has no power of himself to help himself, that he is tied and bound with the burden of his sins, and that he cannot, by reason of his frailty, stand upright--that he actually is sore let and hindered by his own sins, from running the race set before him, and doing his duty where God has put him. All these sayings come home to him as actual facts, most painful facts, but facts which he cannot deny. He soon finds out the meaning and the truth of that terrible struggle between the good in him and the evil in him, of which St Paul speaks so bitterly in the text. How, when he tries to do good, evil is present with him. How he delights in the law of God with his inward mind, and yet finds another law in his body, warring against the law of God, and bringing him into captivity to the law of sin. How he is crippled by old bad habits, weakened by cowardice, by laziness, by vanity, by general inability of will, till he is ready,--disgusted at himself and his own weakness,--to cry, Who shall deliver me from the body of this death? Let him but utter that cry honestly. Let him once find out that he wants something outside himself to help him, to deliver him, to strengthen him, to stir up his weak will, to give him grace and power to do what he knows instead of merely admiring it, and leaving it undone. Let a man only find out that. Let him see that he needs a helper, a deliverer, a strengthener--in one word, a Saviour--and he will find one. I verily believe that, sooner or later, the Lord Jesus Christ will reveal to that man what He revealed to St Paul; that He Himself will deliver him; and that, like St Paul, after crying "O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" he will be able to answer himself, I thank God--God will, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Christ will deliver me from the bonds of my sins, Christ will stir up this weak will of mine, Christ will give me strength and power, faithfully to fulfil all my good desires, because He Himself has put them into my heart not to mock me, not to disappoint me--not to make me wretched with the sight of noble graces and virtues to which I cannot attain, but to fulfil His work in me. What He has begun in me He will carry on in me. He has sown the seed in me, and He will make it bear fruit, if only I pray to Him, day by day, for strength to do what I know I ought to do, and cry morning and night to Him, the fount of life, Stir up my will, O Lord, that I may bring forth the fruit of good works, for then by Thee I shall be plentifully rewarded. So the man gains hope and heart for himself, and so, if he will but think rationally and humbly, he may gain hope and heart for this poor sinful world. For what has come true for him may come true for any man. Who is he that God should care more for him than for others? Who is he that God should help him when he prays, more than He will help His whole church if it will but pray? He says to himself, all this knowledge of what is right; all these good desires, all these longings after a juster, purer, nobler, happier state of things; there they are up and down the world already, though, alas! they have borne little enough fruit as yet. Be it so. But God put them into my heart. And who save God has put them into the world's heart? It was God who sowed the seed in me; surely it is God who has sowed it in other men? And if God has made it bear even the poorest fruit in me, why should He not make it bear fruit in other men and in all the world? All they need is that God should stir up their wills, that they may do the good they know, and attain the blessedness after which they long. And then, if the man have a truly human, truly reasonable heart in him-- he feels that he can pray for others as well as for himself. He feels that he must pray for them, and cry,--Thou alone canst make men strong to do the right thing, and Thou wilt make them. Stir up their wills, O Lord! Thou canst not mean that all the good seed which is sown about the world should die and wither, and bring no fruit to perfection. Surely Thy word will not return to Thee void, but be like the rain which comes down from heaven, and gives seed to the sower and bread to the eater. Oh, strengthen such as stand, and comfort and help the weak-hearted, and raise up them that fall, and, finally, beat down Satan and all the powers of evil under our feet, and pour out thy spirit on all flesh, that so their Father's name may be hallowed, His kingdom come, His will be done on earth as it is in heaven. And so will come the one and only true progress of the human race--which is, that all men should become faithful and obedient citizens of the holy city, the kingdom of God, which is the Church of Christ. To which may God in His mercy bring us all, and our children after us. Amen. This, then, is the lesson why we are met together this Advent day. We are met to pray that God would so help us by His grace and mercy that we may bring forth the fruit of good works, and that when our Lord Jesus Christ shall come in His glorious majesty to judge the quick and the dead, we, and our descendants after us, may be found an acceptable people in His sight. We are met to pray, in a National Church, for the whole nation of England, that all orders and degrees therein may, each in his place and station, help forward the hallowing of God's name, the coming of His kingdom, the doing of His will on earth. We are met to pray for the Queen and all that are in authority, that these Advent collects may be fulfilled in them, and by them, for the good of the whole people; for the ministers and stewards of Christ's mysteries, that the same collects may be fulfilled by them and in them, till they turn the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just; for the Commons of this nation, that each man may he delivered, by God's grace and mercy, from the special sin which besets him in this faithless and worldly generation and hinders him from running the race of duty which is set before him, and get strength from God so to live that in that dread day he may meet his Judge and King, not in tenor and in shame, but in loyalty and in humble hope. But more--we are here to worship God in Christ, both God and man. To confess that without Him we can do nothing, that unless He enlighten our understandings we are dark, unless He stir up our wills we are powerless for good. To confess that though we have forgotten Him, yet He has not forgotten us. That He is the same gracious and generous Giver and Saviour. That though we deny Him He cannot deny Himself. That He is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever as when He came to visit this earth in great humility. That the Lord is King, though the earth be moved. He sitteth upon His throne, be the nations never so unquiet. We are here to declare to ourselves and all men, and the whole universe, that we at least believe that the heavens and earth are full of His glory. We are here to declare that, whether or not the kings of the earth are wise enough, or the judges of it learned enough, to acknowledge Christ for their king, we at least will worship the Son lest He be angry, and so we perish from the right way; for if His wrath be kindled, yea but a little, then blessed are they, and they only, who put their trust in Him. We are here to join our songs with angels round the throne, and with those pure and mighty beings who, in some central sanctuary of the universe, cry for ever, "Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for Thou hast created all things, and for Thy pleasure they are and were created." We do so in ancient words, ancient music, ancient ceremonies, for a token that Christ's rule and glory is an ancient rule and an eternal glory; that it is no new discovery of our own, and depends not on our own passing notions and feelings about it, but is like Christ, the same now as in the days of our forefathers, the same as it was fifteen hundred years ago, the same as it has been since the day that He stooped to be born of the Virgin Mary, the same that it will be till He shall come in His glory to judge the quick and the dead. Therefore we delight in the ancient ceremonial, as like as we can make it, to that of the earlier and purer ages of the Church, when Christianity was still, as it were, fresh from the hand of its Creator, ere yet it had been debased and defiled by the idolatrous innovations of the Church of Rome. For so we confess ourselves bound by links of gratitude to the Apostles, and the successors of the Apostles, and to all which has been best, purest, and truest in the ages since. So we confess that we worship the same God-man of whom Apostles preached, of whom fathers philosophised, and for whom martyrs died. That we believe, like them, that He alone is King of kings and Lord of lords; that there is no progress, civilization, or salvation in this life or the life to come, but through His undeserved mercy and His strengthening grace; that He has reigned from the creation of the world, reigns now, and will reign unto that last dread day, when He shall have put all enemies under His feet, and delivered up the kingdom to God, even the Father, that God may be all in all. Unto which day may He in His mercy bring us all through faith and good works: Amen. SERMON VI. CAPITAL PUNISHMENT Eversley. Quinquagesima Sunday, 1872. Genesis ix. 1, 3, 4, 5, 6. "And God blessed Noah and his sons, and said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth. . . . Every moving thing that liveth shall be meat for you . . . But flesh with the life thereof, which is the blood thereof, shall ye not eat. And surely your blood of your lives will I require: at the hand of every beast will I require it, and at the hand of man; at the hand of every man's brother will I require the life of man. Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man." This is God's blessing on mankind. This is our charter from God, who made and rules this earth. This is the end and duty of our mortal life:- -to be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth, and subdue it. But is that all? Is there no hint in this blessing of God of something more than our mortal life--something beyond our mortal life? Surely there is. Those words--"in the image of God made He man," must mean, if they mean anything, that man can, if he will but be a true man, share the eternal life of God. But I will not speak of that to-day, but rather of a question about his mortal life in this world, which is this:--What is the reason why man has a right over the lives of animals? why he may use them for his food? and at the same time, what is the reason why he has not the same right over the lives of his fellow-men? why he may not use them for food? It is this--that "in the image of God made He man." Man is made in the image and likeness of God, therefore he is a sacred creature; a creature, not merely an animal, and the highest of all animals, only cunninger than all animals, more highly organised, more delicately formed than all animals; but something beyond an animal. He is in the likeness of God, therefore he is consecrated to God. He is the one creature on earth whom God, so far as we know, is trying to make like Himself. Therefore, whosoever kills a man, sins not only against that man, nor against society: he sins against God. And God will require that man's blood at the hand of him who slays him. But how? At the hand of every beast will He require it, and at the hand of every man. What that first part of the law means I cannot tell. How God will require from the lion, or the crocodile, or the shark, who eats a human being, the blood of their victims, is more than I can say. But this I can say--that the feeling, not only of horror and pity, but of real rage and indignation, with which men see (what God grant you never may see) a wild beast kill a man, is a witness in man's conscience that the text is true somehow, though how we know not. I received a letter a few weeks since from an officer, a very remarkable person, in which he described his horror and indignation at seeing a friend of his struck down and eaten by a tiger, and how, when next day he stood over what had been but the day before a human being, he looked up to heaven, and kept repeating the words of the text, "in the image of God made He man," in rage and shame, and almost accusing God for allowing His image to be eaten by a brute beast. It shook, for the moment, his faith in God's justice and goodness. That man was young then, and has grown calmer and wiser now, and has regained a deeper and sounder faith in God. But the shock, he said, was dreadful to him. He felt that the matter was not merely painful and pitiable, but that it was a wrong and a crime; and on the faith of this very text, a wrong and a crime I believe it to be, and one which God knows how to avenge and to correct when man cannot. Somehow-- for He has ways of which we poor mortals do not dream--at the hand of every beast will He require the blood of man. But more; at the hand of every man will He require it. And how? The text tells us, "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made He man." Now, I do not doubt but that the all-seeing God, looking back on what had most probably happened on this earth already, and looking forward to what would happen, and happens, alas! too often now, meant to warn men against the awful crime of cannibalism, of eating their fellow-men as they would eat an animal. By so doing, they not only treated their fellow-men as beasts, but they behaved like beasts themselves. They denied that their victim was made in the likeness of God; they denied that they were made in the likeness of God; they willingly and deliberately put on the likeness of beasts, and as beasts they were to perish. Now, this is certain, that savages who eat men--and alas! there are thousands even now who do so--usually know in their hearts that they are doing wrong. As soon as their consciences are the least awakened, they are ashamed of their cannibalism; they lie about it, try to conceal it; and as soon as God's grace begins to work on them, it is the very first sin that they give up. And next, this is certain, that there is a curse upon it. No cannibal people, so far as I can find, have ever risen or prospered in the world; and the cannibal peoples now-a-days, and for the last three hundred years, have been dying out. By their own vices, diseases, and wars, they perish off the face of the earth, in the midst of comfort and plenty; and, in spite of all the efforts of missionaries, even their children and grand-children, after giving up the horrid crime, and becoming Christians, seem to have no power of living and increasing, but dwindle away, and perish off the earth. Yes, God's laws work in strange and subtle ways; so darkly, so slowly, that the ungodly and sinners often believe that there are no laws of God, and say--"Tush, how should God perceive it? Is there knowledge in the Most High?" But the laws work, nevertheless, whether men are aware of them or not. "The mills of God grind slowly," but sooner or later they grind the sinner to powder. And now I will leave this hateful subject and go on to another, on which I am moved to speak once and for all, because it is much in men's minds just now--I mean what is vulgarly called "capital punishment," the punishing of murder by death. Now the text, which is the ancient covenant of God with man, speaks very clearly on this point. "Whosoever sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed." Man is made in the likeness of God. That is the ground of our law about murder, as it is the ground of all just and merciful law; that gives man his right to slay the murderer; that makes it his duty to slay the murderer. He has to be jealous of God's likeness, and to slay, in the name of God, the man who, by murder, outrages the likeness of God in himself and in his victim. You all know that there is now-a-days a strong feeling among some persons about capital punishment; that there are those who will move heaven and earth to interfere with the course of justice, and beg off the worst of murderers, on any grounds, however unreasonable, fanciful, even unfair; simply because they have a dislike to human beings being hanged. I believe, from long consideration, that these persons' strange dislike proceeds from their not believing sufficiently that man is made in the image of God. And, alas! it proceeds, I fear, in some of them, from not believing in a God at all--believing, perhaps, in some mere maker of the world, but not in the living God which Scripture sets forth. For how else can they say, as I have known some say, that capital punishment is wrong, because "we have no right to usher a man into the presence of his Maker." Into the presence of his Maker! Why, where else is every man, you and I, heathen and Christian, bad and good, save in the presence of his Maker already? Do we not live and move and have our being in God? Whither can we go from His spirit, or whither can we flee from His presence? If we ascend into heaven, He is there. If we go down to hell He is there also. And if the law puts a man to death, it does not usher him into the presence of his Maker, for he is there already. It simply says to him, "God has judged you on earth, not we. God will judge you in the next world, not we. All we know is, that you are not fit to live in this world. All our duty is to send you out of it. Where you will go in the other world is God's matter, not ours, and the Lord have mercy on your soul." And this want of faith in a living God lies at the bottom of another objection. We are to keep murderers alive in order to convert and instruct and amend them. The answer is, We shall be most happy to amend anybody of any fault, however great: but the experience of ages is that murderers are past mending; that the fact of a man's murdering another is a plain proof that he has no moral sense, and has become simply a brute animal Our duty is to punish not to amend, and to say to the murderer, "If you can be amended; God will amend you, and so have mercy on your soul. God must amend you, if you are to be amended. If God cannot amend you, we cannot. If God will not amend you, certainly we cannot force Him to do so, if we kept you alive for a thousand years." That would seem reasonable, as well as reverent and faithful to God. But men now-a-days fancy that they love their fellow creatures far better than God loves them, and can deal far more wisely and lovingly with them than God is willing to deal. Of these objections I take little heed. I look on them as merely loose cant, which does not quite understand the meaning of its own words, and I trust to sound, hard, English common sense to put them aside. But there is another objection to capital punishment, which we must deal with much more respectfully and tenderly; for it is made by certain good people, people whom we must honour, though we differ from them, for no set of people have done more (according to their numbers) for education, for active charity, and for benevolence, and for peace and good will among the nations of the earth. And they say, you must not take the life of a murderer, just because he is made in God's image. Well, I should have thought that God Himself was the best judge of that. That, if God truly said that man was made in His image, and said, moreover, as it were at the same moment, that, therefore, whoso sheds man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed--our duty was to trust God, to obey God, and to do our duty against the murderer, however painful to our feelings it might be. But I believe these good people make their mistake from forgetting this; that if the murderer be made in God's image and likeness, so is the man whom he murders; and so also is the jury who convict him, the judge who condemns him, and the nation (the society of men) for whom they act. And this, my dear friends, brings us to the very root of the meaning of law. Man has sense to make laws (which animals cannot do), just because he is made in the likeness of God, and has the sense of right and wrong. Man has the right to enforce laws, to see right done and wrong punished, just because he is made in the likeness of God. The laws of a country, as far as they are just and righteous, are the copy of what the men of that country have found out about right and wrong, and about how much right they can get done, and how much wrong punished. So, just as the men of a country are (in spite of all their sins) made in the likeness of God, so the laws of a country (in spite of all their defects) are a copy of God's will, as to what men should or should not do. And that, and no other, is the true reason why the judge or magistrate has authority over either property, liberty, or life. He is God's servant, the servant of Christ, who is King of this land and of all lands, and of all governments, and all kings and rulers of the earth. He sits there in God's name, to see God's will done, as far as poor fallible human beings can get it done. And, because he is, not merely as a man, but, by his special authority, in the likeness of God, who has power over life and death, therefore he also, as far as his authority goes, has power over life and death. That is my opinion, and that was the opinion of St. Paul. For what does he say--and say not (remember always) of Christian magistrates in a Christian country, but actually of heathen Roman magistrates? "Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God. Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation." Thus spoke out the tenderest-hearted, most Christ-like human being, perhaps, who ever trod this earth, who, in his intense longing to save sinners, endured a life of misery and danger, and finished it by martyrdom. But there was no sentimentality, no soft indulgence in him. He knew right from wrong; common sense from cant; duty from public opinion; and divine charity from the mere cowardly dislike of witnessing pain, not so much because it pains the person punished, as because it pains the spectator. He knew that Christ was King of kings, and what Christ's kingdom was like. He had discovered the divine and wonderful order of men and angels. He saw that one part of that order was--"the soul that sinneth, it shall die." But some say that capital punishment is inconsistent with the mild religion of Christ--the religion of mercy and love. "The mild religion of Christ!" Do these men know of Whom they talk? Do they know that, if the Bible be true, the God who said, "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed," is the very same Being, the very same God, who was born of the Virgin Mary, crucified under Pontius Pilate--the very same Christ who took little children up in His arms and blessed them, the very same Word of God, too, of whom it is written, that out of His mouth goeth a two-edged sword, that He may smite the nations, and He shall rule them with a rod of iron, and He treadeth the wine press of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God? These are awful words, but, my dear friends, I can only ask you if you think them too awful to be true? Do you believe the Christian religion? Do you believe the Creeds? Do you believe the Bible? For if you do, then you believe that the Lord Christ, who was born of the Virgin Mary, and crucified under Pontius Pilate, is the Maker, the Master, the Ruler of this world, and of all worlds. By what laws He rules other worlds we know not, save that they are, because they must be--just and merciful laws. But of the laws by which He rules this world we do know, by experience, that His laws are of most terrible and unbending severity, as I have warned you again and again, and shall warn you, as long as there is a liar or an idler, a drunkard or an adulteress in this parish. And if this be so--if Christ be a God of severity as well as a God of love, a God who punishes sinners as well as a God who forgives penitents- -what then? We are, He tells us, made in His likeness. Then, according to His likeness we must behave. We must copy His love, by helping the poor and afflicted, the weak and the oppressed. But we must copy His severity, by punishing whenever we have the power, without cowardice or indulgence, all wilful offenders; and, above all, the man who destroys God's image in himself, by murdering and destroying the mortal life of a man made in the image of God. And more; if we be made in the likeness of God and of Christ, we must remember, morning and night, and all day long, that most awful and most blessed fact. We must say to ourselves, again and again, "I am not a mere animal, and like a mere animal I must not behave; I dare not behave like a mere animal, for I was made in the likeness of God; and when I was baptised the Spirit of God took possession of me to restore me to God's likeness, and to call out and perfect God's likeness in me all my life long. Therefore, I am no mere animal; and never was intended to be. I am the temple of God; my body and soul belong to God, and not to my own fancies and passions and lusts, and whosoever defiles the temple of God, him will God destroy." Therefore, this is our duty, this is our only hope or safety--to do our best to keep alive and strong the likeness of God in ourselves; to try to grow, not more and more mean, and brutal, and carnal, but more and more noble, and human, and spiritual; to crush down our base passions, our selfish inclinations, by the help of the Spirit of God, and to think of and to pray for, whatsoever is like Christ and like God; to pray for a noble love of what is good and noble, for a noble hate of what is bad; and whatsoever things are pure and lovely and of good report to think of these things. And to pray, too, for forgiveness from Christ, and for the sake of Christ, whenever we have yielded to our low passions, and defiled the likeness of God in us, and grieved His Spirit, lest at the last day it be said to us, if not in words yet in acts, which there will be no mistaking, no escaping,--"I made thee in My likeness in the beginning of the creation, I redeemed thee into My likeness on the cross, I baptised thee into My likeness by my Holy Spirit; and what hast thou hast done with My likeness? Thou hast cast it away, thou hast let it die out in thee, thou hast lived after the flesh and not after the spirit, and hast put on the likeness of the carnal man, the likeness of the brute. Thou hast copied the vanity of the peacock, the silliness of the ape, the cunning of the fox, the rapacity of the tiger, the sensuality of the swine; but thou hast not copied God, thy God, who died that thou mightest live, and be a man. Then, thou hast destroyed God's likeness, for thou hast destroyed it in thyself. Thou hast slain a man, for thou hast slain thy own manhood, and art thine own murderer, and thine own blood shall be required at thy hand. That which thou hast done to God's likeness in thee, shall be done to that which remains of thee in a second death." And from that may Christ in His mercy deliver us all. Amen. SERMON VII. TEMPTATION Eversley, 1872. Chester Cathedral, 1872. St Matt. iv. 3. "And when the tempter came to Him, he said, If Thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread." Let me say a few words to-day about a solemn subject, namely, Temptation. I do not mean the temptations of the flesh--the temptations which all men have to yield to the low animal nature in them, and behave like brutes. I mean those deeper and more terrible temptations, which our Lord conquered in that great struggle with evil which is commonly called His temptation in the wilderness. These were temptations of an evil spirit-- the temptations which entice some men, at least, to behave like devils. Now these temptations specially beset religious men--men who are, or fancy themselves, superior to their fellow-men, more favoured by God, and with nobler powers, and grander work to do, than the common average of mankind. But specially, I say, they beset those who are, or fancy themselves, the children of God. And, therefore, I humbly suppose our Lord had to endure and to conquer these very temptations because He was not merely a child of God, but the Son of God--the perfect Man, made in the perfect likeness of His Father. He had to endure these temptations, and to conquer them, that He might be able to succour us when we are tempted, seeing that He was tempted in like manner as we are, yet without sin. Now it has been said, and, I think, well said, that what proves our Lord's three temptations to have been very subtle and dangerous and terrible, is this--that we cannot see at first sight that they were temptations at all. The first two do not look to us to be wrong. If our Lord could make stones into bread to satisfy His hunger, why should He not do so? If He could prove to the Jews that He was the Son of God, their divine King and Saviour, by casting Himself down from the pinnacle of the temple, and being miraculously supported in the air by angels--if He could do that, why should He not do it? And lastly, the third temptation looks at first sight so preposterous that it seems silly of the evil spirit to have hinted at it. To ask any man of piety, much less the Son of God Himself, to fall down and worship the devil, seems perfectly absurd--a request not to be listened to for a moment, but put aside with contempt. Well, my friends, and the very danger of these spiritual temptations is-- that they do not look like temptations. They do not look ugly, absurd, wrong, they look pleasant, reasonable, right. The devil, says the apostle, transforms himself at times into an angel of light. If so, then he is certainly far more dangerous than if he came as an angel of darkness and horror. If you met some venomous snake, with loathsome spots upon his scales, his eyes full of rage and cunning, his head raised to strike at you, hissing and showing his fangs, there would be no temptation to have to do with him. You would know that you had to deal with an evil beast, and must either kill him or escape from him at once. But if, again, you met, as you may meet in the tropics, a lovely little coral snake, braided with red and white, its mouth so small that it seems impossible that it can bite, and so gentle that children may take it up and play with it, then you might be tempted, as many a poor child has been ere now, to admire it, fondle it, wreathe it round the neck for a necklace, or round the arm for a bracelet, till the play goes one step too far, the snake loses its temper, gives one tiny scratch upon the lip or finger, and that scratch is certain death. That would be a temptation indeed; one all the more dangerous because there is, I am told, another sort of coral snake perfectly harmless, which is so exactly like the deadly one, that no child, and few grown people, can know them apart. Even so it is with our worst temptations. They look sometimes so exactly like what is good and noble and useful and religious, that we mistake the evil for the good, and play with it till it stings us, and we find out too late that the wages of sin are death. Thus religious people, just because they are religious, are apt to be specially tempted to mistake evil for good, to do something specially wrong, when they think they are doing something specially right, and so give occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme; till, as a hard and experienced man of the world once said: "Whenever I hear a man talking of his conscience, I know that he is going to do something particularly foolish; whenever I hear of a man talking of his duty, I know that he is going to do something particularly cruel." Do I say this to frighten you away from being religious? God forbid. Better to be religious and to fear and love God, though you were tempted by all the devils out of the pit, than to be irreligious and a mere animal, and be tempted only by your own carnal nature, as the animals are. Better to be tempted, like the hermits of old, and even to fall and rise again, singing, "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy, when I fall I shall arise;" than to live the life of the flesh, "like a beast with lower pleasures, like a beast with lower pains." It is the price a man must pay for hungering and thirsting after righteousness, for longing to be a child of God in spirit and in truth. "The devil," says a wise man of old, "does not tempt bad men, because he has got them already; he tempts good men, because he has NOT got them, and wants to get them." But how shall we know these temptations? God knows, my friends, better than I; and I trust that He will teach you to know, according to what each of you needs to know. But as far as my small experience goes, the root of them all is pride and self-conceit. Whatsoever thoughts or feelings tempt us to pride and self-conceit are of the devil, not of God. The devil is specially the spirit of pride; and, therefore, whatever tempts you to fancy yourself something different from your fellow-men, superior to your fellow men, safer than them, more favoured by God than them, that is a temptation of the spirit of pride. Whatever tempts you to think that you can do without God's help and God's providence; whatever tempts you to do anything extraordinary, and show yourself off, that you may make a figure in the world; and above all, whatever tempts you to antinomianism, that is, to fancy that God will overlook sins in you which He will not overlook in other men--all these are temptations from the spirit of pride. They are temptations like our Lord's temptations. These temptations came on our Lord more terribly than they ever can on you and me, just because He was the Son of Man, the perfect Man, and, therefore, had more real reason for being proud (if such a thing could be) than any man, or than all men put together. But He conquered the temptations because He was perfect Man, led by the Spirit of God; and, therefore, He knew that the only way to be a perfect man was not to be proud, however powerful, wise, and glorious He might be; but to submit Himself humbly and utterly, as every man should do, to the will of His Father in Heaven, from whom alone His greatness came. Now the spirit of pride cannot understand the beauty of humility, and the spirit of self-will cannot understand the beauty of obedience; and, therefore, it is reasonable to suppose the devil could not understand our Lord. If He be the Son of God, so might Satan argue, He has all the more reason to be proud; and, therefore, it is all the more easy to tempt Him into shewing His pride, into proving Himself a conceited, self-willed, rebellious being--in one word, an evil spirit. And therefore (as you will see at first sight) the first two temptations were clearly meant to tempt our Lord to pride; for would they not tempt you and me to pride? If we could feed ourselves by making bread of stones, would not that make us proud enough? So proud, I fear, that we should soon fancy that we could do without God and His providence, and were masters of nature and all her secrets. If you and I could make the whole city worship and obey us, by casting ourselves off this cathedral unhurt, would not that make us proud enough? So proud, I fear, that we should end in committing some great folly, or great crime in our conceit and vainglory. Now, whether our Lord could or could not have done these wonderful deeds, one thing is plain--that He would not do them; and, therefore, we may presume that He ought not to have done them. It seems as if He did not wish to be a wonderful man: but only a perfectly good man, and He would do nothing to help Himself but what any other man could do. He answered the evil spirit simply out of Scripture, as any other pious man might have done. When He was bidden to make the stones into bread, He answers not as the Eternal Son of God, but simply as a man. "It is written:"--it is the belief of Moses and the old prophets of my people that man doth not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God:--as much as to say, If I am to be delivered out of this need, God will deliver me by some means or other, just as He delivers other men out of their needs. When He was bidden cast Himself from the temple, and so save Himself, probably from sorrow, poverty, persecution, and the death on the cross, He answers out of Scripture as any other Jew would have done. "It is written again, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." He says nothing--this is most important--of His being the eternal Son of God. He keeps that in the background. There the fact was; but He veiled the glory of His godhead, that He might assert the rights of His manhood, and shew that mere man, by the help of the Spirit of God, could obey God, and keep His commandments. I say these last words with all diffidence and humility, and trusting that the Lord will pardon any mistake which I may make about His Divine Words. I only say them because wiser men than I have often taken the same view already. Of course there is more, far more, in this wonderful saying than we can understand, or ever will understand. But this I think is plain--that our Lord determined to behave as any and every other man ought to have done in His place; in order to shew all God's children the example of perfect humility and perfect obedience to God. But again, the devil asked our Lord to fall down and worship him. Now how could that be a temptation to pride? Surely that was asking our Lord to do anything but a proud action, rather the most humiliating and most base of all actions. My friends, it seems to me that if our Lord had fallen down and worshipped the evil spirit, He would have given way to the spirit of pride utterly and boundlessly; and I will tell you why. The devil wanted our Lord to do evil that good might come. It would have been a blessing, that all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of man should be our Lord's,--the very blessing for this poor earth which He came to buy, and which He bought with His own precious blood. And here the devil offered Him the very prize for which He came down on earth, without struggle or difficulty, if He would but do, for one moment, one wrong thing. What temptation that would be to our Lord as God, I dare not say. But that to our Lord as Man, it must have been the most terrible of all temptations, I can well believe: because history shews us, and, alas! our own experience in modern times shews us, persons yielding to that temptation perpetually; pious people, benevolent people, people who long to spread the Bible, to convert sinners, to found charities, to amend laws, to set the world right in some way or other, and who fancy that therefore, in carrying out their fine projects, they have a right to do evil that good may come. This is a very painful subject; all the more painful just now, because I sometimes think it is the special sin of this country and this generation, and that God will bring on us some heavy punishment for it. But all who know the world in its various phases, and especially what are called the religious world, and the philanthropic world, and the political world, know too well that men, not otherwise bad men, will do things and say things, to carry out some favourite project or movement, or to support some party, religious or other, which they would (I hope) be ashamed to say and do for their own private gain. Now what is this, but worshipping the evil spirit, in order to get power over this world, that they may (as they fancy) amend it? And what is this but self- conceit--ruinous, I had almost said, blasphemous? These people think themselves so certainly in the right, and their plans so absolutely necessary to the good of the world, that God has given them a special licence to do what they like in carrying them out; that He will excuse in them falsehoods and meannesses, even tyranny and violences which He will excuse in no one else. Now, is not this self-conceit? What would you think of a servant who disobeyed you, cheated you, and yet said to himself--No matter, my master dare not turn me off: I am so useful that he cannot do without me. Even so in all ages, and now as much as, or more than ever, have men said, We are so necessary to God and God's cause, that He cannot do without us; and therefore though He hates sin in everyone else, He will excuse sin in us, as long as we are about His business. Therefore, my dear friends, whenever we are tempted to do or say anything rash, or vain, or mean, because we are the children of God; whenever we are inclined to be puffed up with spiritual pride, and to fancy that we may take liberties which other men must not take, because we are the children of God; let us remember the words of the text, and answer the tempter, when he says, If thou be the Son of God, do this and that, as our Lord answered him--"If I be the Child of God, what then? This--that I must behave as if God were my Father. I must trust my God utterly, and I must obey Him utterly. I must do no rash or vain thing to tempt God, even though it looks as if I should have a great success, and do much good thereby. I must do no mean or base thing, nor give way for a moment to the wicked ways of this wicked world, even though again it looks as if I should have a great success, and do much good thereby. In one word, I must worship my Father in heaven, and Him only must I serve. If He wants me, He will use me. If He does not want me, He will use some one else. Who am I, that God cannot govern the world without my help? My business is to refrain my soul, and keep it low, even as a weaned child, and not to meddle with matters too high for me. My business is to do the little, simple, everyday duties which lie nearest me, and be faithful in a few things; and then, if Christ will, He may make me some day ruler over many things, and I shall enter into the joy of my Lord, which is the joy of doing good to my fellow men. But I shall never enter into that by thrusting myself into Christ's way, with grand schemes and hasty projects, as if I knew better than He how to make His kingdom come. If I do, my pride will have a fall. Because I would not be faithful over a few things, I shall be tempted to be unfaithful over many things; and instead of entering into the joy of my Lord, I shall be in danger of the awful judgment pronounced on those who do evil that good may come, who shall say in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works? And then will He protest unto them--I never knew you. Depart from me, ye that work iniquity." Oh, my friends, in all your projects for good, as in all other matters which come before you in your mortal life, keep innocence and take heed to the thing that is right. For that, and that alone, shall bring a man peace at the last. To which, may God in His mercy bring us all. Amen. SERMON VIII. MOTHER'S LOVE Eversley, Second Sunday in Lent, 1872. St Matthew xv. 22-28. "And, behold, a woman of Canaan came out of the same coasts, and cried unto him, saying, Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou son of David; my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil. But he answered her not a word. And his disciples came and besought him, saying, Send her away; for she crieth after us. But he answered and said, I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Then came she and worshipped him, saying, Lord, help me. But he answered and said, It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs. And she said, Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's table. Then Jesus answered and said unto her, O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt. And her daughter was made whole from that very hour." If you want a proof from Scripture that there are two sides to our blessed Lord's character--that He is a Judge and an Avenger as well as a Saviour and a Pardoner--that He is infinitely severe as well as infinitely merciful--that, while we may come boldly to His throne of grace to find help and mercy in time of need, we must, at the same time, tremble before His throne of justice--if you want a proof of all this, I say, then look at the Epistle and the Gospel for this day. Put them side by side, and compare them, and you will see how perfectly they shew, one after the other, the two sides. The Epistle for the day tells men and women that they must lead moral, pure, and modest lives. It does not advise them to do so. It does not say, It will be better to do so, more proper and conducive to the good of society, more likely to bring you to heaven at last. It says, You must, for it is the commandment of the Lord Jesus, and the will of God. Let no man encroach on or defraud his brother in the matter, says St Paul; by which he means, Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife. And why? "Because that the Lord is the avenger of all such, as we also have forewarned you and testified." My friends, people talk loosely of the Thunder of Sinai and the rigour of Moses' law, and set them against what they call the gentle voice of the Gospel, and the mild religion of Christ. Why, here are the Thunders of Sinai uttered as loud as ever, from the very foot of the Cross of Christ; and the terrible, "Thou shalt not," of Moses' law, with the curse of God for a penalty on the sinner, uttered by the Apostle of Faith, and Freedom, in the name of Christ and of God. St Paul is not afraid to call Christ an Avenger. How could he be? He believed that it was Christ who spoke to Moses on Sinai--the very same Christ who prayed for His murderers, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." And he knew that Christ was the eternal Son of God, the same yesterday, to- day, and for ever; that He had not changed since Moses' time, and could never change; that what He forbade in Moses' time, hated in Moses' time, and avenged in Moses' time, He would forbid, and hate, and avenge for ever. And that, therefore, he who despises the warnings of the Law despises not man merely, but God, who has also given to us His Holy Spirit to know what is unchangeable, the everlastingly right, from what is everlastingly wrong. So much for that side of our Lord's character; so much for sinners who, after their hardness and impenitent hearts, treasure up for themselves wrath against the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God, in the day when God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ, according to St Paul's Gospel. But, when we turn to the Gospel for the day, we see the other side of our Lord's character, boundless condescension and boundless charity. We see Him there still a Judge, as He always is and always will be, judging the secrets of a poor woman's heart, and that woman a heathen. He judges her openly, in public, before His disciples. But He is a Judge who judges righteous judgment, and not according to appearances; who is no respecter of persons; who is perfectly fair, even though the woman be a heathen: and, instead of condemning her and driving her away, He acquits her, He grants her prayer, He heals her daughter, even though that daughter was also a heathen, and one who knew Him not. I say our Lord judged the woman after He had tried her, as gold is tried in the fire. Why He did so, we cannot tell. Perhaps He wanted, by the trial, to make her a better woman, to bring out something noble which lay in her heart unknown to her, though not to Him who knew what was in man. Perhaps He wished to shew his disciples, who looked down on her as a heathen dog, that a heathen, too, could have faith, humility, nobleness, and grace of heart. Be that as it may, when the poor woman came crying to Him, He answered her not a word. His disciples besought Him to send her away--and I am inclined to think that they wished Him to grant her what she asked, simply to be rid of her. "Send her away," they said, "for she crieth after us." Our Lord, we learn from St Mark, did not wish to be known in that place just then. The poor woman, with her crying, was drawing attention to them, and, perhaps, gathering a crowd. Somewhat noisy and troublesome, perhaps she was, in her motherly eagerness. But our Lord was still seemingly stern. He would not listen, it seemed, to His disciples any more than to the heathen woman. "I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel." So our Lord said, and (what is worth remembering) if He said so, what He said was true. He was the King of the people of Israel, the Royal Prince of David's line; and, as a man, His duty was only to His own people. And this woman was a Greek, a Syro- phenician by nation--of a mixed race of people, notoriously low and profligate, and old enemies of the Jews. Then, it seems, He went into a house, and would have no man know it. But, says St Mark, "He could not be hid." The mother's wit found our Lord out, and the mother's heart urged her on, and, in spite of all His rebuffs, she seems to have got into the house and worshipped Him. She "fell at His feet," says St Mark--doubtless bowing her forehead to the ground, in the fashion of those lands--an honour which was paid, I believe, only to persons who were royal or divine. So she confessed that He was a king--perhaps a God come down on earth--and again she cried to Him. "Lord, help me." And what was our Lord's answer--seemingly more stern than ever? "Let the children first be filled: for it is not meet to take the children's bread and cast it unto the dogs." Hard words. Yes: but all depends on how they were spoken. All depends on our Lord's look as He spoke them, and, even more, on the tone of His voice. We all know that two men may use the very same words to us;--and the one shall speak sneeringly, brutally, and raise in us indignation or despair; another shall use the same words, but solemnly, tenderly, and raise in us confidence and hope. And so it may have been--so, I fancy, it must have been--with the tone of our Lord's voice, with the expression of His face. Did He speak with a frown, or with something like a smile? There must have been some tenderness, meaningness, pity in His voice which the quick woman's wit caught instantly, and the quick mother's heart interpreted as a sign of hope. Let Him call her a dog if He would. What matter to a mother to be called a dog, if she could thereby save her child from a devil? Perhaps she was little better than a dog. They were a bad people these Syrians, quick- witted, highly civilised, but vicious, and teaching vice to other nations, till some of the wisest Romans cursed the day when the Syrians first spread into Rome, and debauched the sturdy Romans with their new- fangled, foreign sins. They were a bad people, and, perhaps, she had been as bad as the rest. But if she were a dog, at least she felt that the dog had found its Master, and must fawn on Him, if it were but for the hope of getting something from Him. And so, in the poor heathen mother's heart, there rose up a whole heaven of perfect humility, faith, adoration. If she were base and mean, yet our Lord was great, and wise, and good; and that was all the more reason why He should be magnanimous, generous, condescending, like a true King, to the basest and meanest of His subjects. She asked not for money, or honour, or this world's fine things: but simply for her child's health, her child's deliverance from some mysterious and degrading illness. Surely there was no harm in asking for that. It was simply a mother's prayer, a simply human prayer, which our Lord must grant, if He were indeed a man of woman born, if He had a mother, and could feel for a mother, if He had human tenderness, human pity in Him. And so, with her quick Syrian wit, she answers our Lord with those wonderful words-- perhaps the most pathetic words in the whole Bible--so full of humility, of reverence, and yet with a certain archness, almost playfulness, in them, as it were, turning our Lord's words against Him; and, by that very thing, shewing how utterly she trusted Him,--"Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters' table." Those were the beautiful words--more beautiful to me than whole volumes of poetry--which our Lord had as it were crushed out of the woman's heart. Doubtless, He knew all the while that they were in her heart, though not as yet shaped into words. Doubtless, He was trying her, to shew His disciples--and all Christians who should ever read the Bible-- what was in her heart, what she was capable of saying when it came to the point. So He tried her, and judged her, and acquitted her. Out of the abundance of her heart her mouth had spoken. By her words she was justified. By those few words she proved her utter faith in our Lord's power and goodness--perhaps her faith in His godhead. By those words she proved the gentleness and humility, the graciousness and gracefulness of her own character. By those words she proved, too,--and oh, you that are mothers, is that nothing?--the perfect disinterestedness of her mother's love. And so she conquered--as the blessed Lord loves to be conquered-- as all noble souls who are like their blessed Lord, love to be conquered- -by the prayer of faith, of humility, of confidence, of earnestness, and she had her reward. "O woman," said He, the Maker of all heaven and earth, "great is thy faith. For this saying go thy way. Be it unto thee even as thou wilt. The devil is gone out of thy daughter." She went, full of faith; and when she was come to her house, she found the devil gone out, and her daughter laid upon the bed. One word more, and I have done. I do not think that any one who really took in the full meaning of this beautiful story, would ever care to pray to Saints, or to the Blessed Virgin, for help; fancying that they, and specially the Blessed Virgin, being a woman, are more humane than our Lord, and can feel more quickly, if not more keenly, for poor creatures in distress. We are not here to judge these people, or any people. To their own master they stand or fall. But for the honour of our Lord, we may say, Does not this story shew that the Lord is humane enough, tender enough, to satisfy all mankind? Does not this story shew that even if He seem silent at first, and does not grant our prayers, yet still He may be keeping us waiting, as He kept this heathen woman, only that He may be gracious to us at last? Does not this story shew us especially that our Lord can feel for mothers and with mothers; that He actually allowed Himself to be won over--if I may use such a word in all reverence--by the wit and grace of a mother pleading for her child? Was it not so? "O woman, great is thy faith. For this saying go thy way. Be it unto thee even as thou wilt." Ah! are not those gracious words a comfort to every mother, bidding her, in the Lord's own name, to come boldly where mothers--of all human beings--have oftenest need to come, to the throne of Christ's grace, to find mercy, and grace to help in time of need? Yes, my friends, such is our Lord, and such is our God. Infinite in severity to the scornful, the proud, the disobedient: infinite in tenderness to the earnest, the humble, the obedient. Let us come to Him, earnest, humble, obedient, and we shall find Him, indeed, a refuge of the soul and body in spirit and in truth. Thou, O Lord, art all I want. All and more in thee I find. Amen. SERMON IX. GOOD FRIDAY Eversley, 1856. St. Luke xxiv. 5, 6. "Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen." This is a very solemn day; for on this day the Lord Jesus Christ was crucified. The question for us is, how ought we to keep it? that is, what sort of thoughts ought to be in our minds upon this day? Now, many most excellent and pious persons, and most pious books, seem to think that we ought to-day to think as much as possible of the sufferings of our Blessed Lord; and because we cannot, of course, understand or imagine the sufferings of His Spirit, to think of what we can, that is, His bodily sufferings. They, therefore, seem to wish to fill our minds with the most painful pictures of agony, and shame, and death, and sorrow; and not only with our Lord's sorrows, but with those of His Blessed Mother, and of the disciples, and the holy women who stood by His cross; they wish to stir us up to pity and horror, and to bring before us the saddest parts of Holy Scripture, such as the Lamentations of Jeremiah; as well as dwell at great length upon very painful details, which may be all quite true, but of which Scripture says nothing; as so to make this day a day of darkness, and sorrow, and horror, just such as it would have been to us if we had stood by Christ's cross, like these holy women, without expecting Him to rise again, and believing that all was over--that all hope of Israel's being redeemed was gone, and that the wicked Jews had really conquered that perfectly good, and admirable Saviour, and put Him out of the world for ever. Now, I judge no man; to his own master he standeth or falleth; yea, and he shall stand, for God is able to make him stand. But it does seem to me that these good people are seeking the living among the dead, and forgetting that Christ is neither on the cross nor in the tomb, but that He is risen; and it seems to me better to bid you follow to-day the Bible and the Church Service, and to think of what they tell you to think of. Now the Bible, it is most remarkable, never enlarges anywhere upon even the bodily sufferings of our dear and blessed Lord. The evangelists keep a silence on that point which is most lofty, dignified, and delicate. What sad and dreadful things might not St. John, the beloved apostle as he was, have said, if he had chosen, about what he saw and what he felt, as he stood by that cross on Calvary--words which would have stirred to pity the most cruel, and drawn tears from a heart of stone? And yet all he says is, "They crucified Him, and two other with him, on either side one, and Jesus in the midst." He passes it over, as it were, as a thing which he ought not to dwell on; and why should we put words into St. John's mouth which he did not think fit to put into his own? He wrote by the Spirit of God; and therefore he knew best what to say, and what not to say. Why should we try and say anything more for him? Scripture is perfect. Let us be content with it. The apostles, too, in their Epistles, never dwell on Christ's sufferings. I entreat you to remark this. They never mention His death except in words of cheerfulness and triumph. They seem so full of the glorious fruits of His death, that they have, as it were, no time to speak of the death itself. "Who, for the joy which was set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God." That is the apostles' key-note. For God's sake let it be ours too, unless we fancy that we can improve on Scripture, or that we can feel more for our Lord than St. Paul did. In the Lessons, the Psalms, the Epistle, and Gospel for this day, you find just the same spirit. All except one Psalm are songs of hope, joy, deliverance, triumph. The Collects for this day, which are particularly remarkable, being three in number, and evidently meant to teach us the key-note of Good Friday, make no mention of our Lord's sufferings, save to say that He was CONTENTED, "contented to be betrayed, and given up into the hands of wicked men, and to suffer death upon the cross," but are full of prayers that the glorious fruits of His death may be fulfilled, not only in us and all Christians, but in the very heathen who have not known Him; drawing us away, as it were, from looking too closely upon the cross itself, lest we should forget what the cross meant, what the cross conquered, what the cross gained, for us and mankind. Surely, this was not done without a reason. And I cannot but think the reason was to keep us from seeking the living among the dead; to keep us from knowing Christ any longer after the flesh, and spending tears and emotions over His bodily sufferings; to keep us from thinking and sorrowing too much over the dead Christ, lest we should forget, as some do, that He is alive for evermore; and while they weep over the dead Christ or the crucifix, go to the blessed Virgin and the saints to do for them all that the living Christ is longing to do for them, if they would but go straight to Him to whom all power is given in heaven and earth; whom St John saw, no longer hanging on the accursed tree, but with His hair as white as snow, and His eyes like a flame of fire, and His voice like the sound of many waters, and His countenance as the sun when he shineth in his strength, saying unto him, "Fear not, I am the first and the last; I am He that liveth and was dead, and behold I am alive for evermore." This is what Christ is now. In this shape He is looking at us now. In this shape He is hearing me speak. In this shape He is watching every feeling of your hearts, discerning your most secret intents, seeing through and through the thoughts which you would confess to no human being, hardly even to yourselves. This is He, a living Christ, an almighty Christ, an all-seeing Christ, and yet a most patient and loving Christ. He needs not our pity; but our gratitude, our obedience, our worship. Why seek Him among the dead? He is not there, He is risen! He is not there, He is here! Bow yourselves before Him now; for He is in the midst of you; and those eyes of His, more piercing than the mid-day sunbeams, are upon you, and your hearts, and your thoughts, and upon mine also. God have mercy upon me a sinner. Yes, my friends, why seek the living among the dead? He is not there, but here. We may try to put ourselves in the place of the disciples and the Virgin Mary, as they stood by Jesus' cross; but we cannot do it, for they saw Him on the cross, and thought that He was lost to them for ever; they saw Him die, and gave up all hope of His rising again. And we know that Christ is not lost to us for ever. We know Christ is not on the cross, but at the right hand of God in bliss and glory unspeakable. We may be told to watch with the three Maries at the tomb of Christ: but we cannot do as they did, for they thought that all was over, and brought sweet spices to embalm His body, which they thought was in the tomb; and we know that all was not over, that His body is not in the tomb, that the grave could not hold Him, that His body is ascended into heaven; that instead of His body needing spices to embalm it, it is His body which embalms all heaven and earth, and is the very life of the world, and food which preserves our souls and bodies to everlasting life. We are not in the place of those blessed women; God has not put us in their place, and we cannot put ourselves into their place; and if we could and did, by any imaginations of our own, we should only tell ourselves a lie. Good Friday was to them indeed a day of darkness, horror, disappointment, all but despair; because Easter Day had not yet come, and Christ had not yet risen. But Good Friday cannot be a day of darkness to us, because Christ has risen, and we know it, and cannot forget it; we cannot forget that Easter dawn, when the Sun of Righteousness arose, never to set again. Has not the light of that Resurrection morning filled with glory the cross and the grave, yea the very agony in the Garden, and hell itself, which Christ harrowed for us? Has it not risen a light to lighten the Gentiles, a joy to angels and archangels, and saints, and all the elect of God; ay, to the whole universe of God, so that the very stars in their courses, the trees as they bud each spring, yea, the very birds upon the bough, are singing for ever, in the ears of those who have ears to hear, "Christ is risen?" And shall we, under pretence of honouring Christ and of bestowing on Him a pity which He needs least of all, try to spend Good Friday and Passion Week in forgetting Easter Day; try to think of Christ's death as we should if He had not risen, and try to make out ourselves and the world infinitely worse off than we really know that we are? Christ has died, but He has risen again; and we must not think of one without the other. Heavenly things are too important, too true, too real--Christ is too near us, and too loving to us, too earnest about our salvation, for us to spend our thoughts on any such attempts (however reverently meant) at imaginative play-acting in our own minds about His hanging on His cross, while we know that He is not on His cross; and about watching by His tomb, when we know that He is not in His tomb. Let us thank Him, bless Him, serve Him, die for Him, if need be, in return for all He endured for us: but let us keep our sorrow and our pity, and our tears, for our own daily sins--we have enough of them to employ all our sorrow, and more;--and not in voluntary humility and will-worship, against which St Paul warns us, lose sight of our real Christ, of Him who was dead and is alive for evermore, and dwells in us by faith; now and for ever, amen; and hath the keys of death and hell, and has opened them for us, and for our fathers before us, and for our children after us, and for nations yet unborn. True, this is a solemn day, for on it the Son of God fought such a fight, that He could only win it at the price of His own life's blood; and a humiliating day, for our sins helped to nail Him on the cross--and therefore a day of humiliation and of humility. Proud, self-willed thoughts are surely out of place to-day (and what day are they in place?) On this day God agonised for man: but it is a day of triumph and deliverance; and we must go home as men who have stood by and seen a fearful fight--a fight which makes the blood of him who watches it run cold; but we have seen, too, a glorious victory--such a victory as never was won on earth before or since; and we therefore must think cheerfully of the battle, for the sake of the victory that was won; and remember that on this day death was indeed swallowed up in victory--because death was the victory itself. The question on which the fate of the whole world depended was, whether Christ dare die; and He dared die. Whether Christ would endure to the end; and He did endure. Whether He would utterly drink the cup which His Father had given Him; and He drank it to the dregs; and so by His very agony He showed Himself noble, beautiful, glorious, adorable, beyond all that words can express. And so the cross was His throne of glory; the prints of the nails in His hands and feet were the very tokens of His triumph; His very sorrows were His bliss; and those last words, "It is finished," were no cry of despair, but a trumpet-call of triumph, which rang from the highest heaven to the lowest hell, proclaiming to all created things, that the very fountain of life, by dying, had conquered death, that good had conquered evil, love had conquered selfishness, God had conquered man, and all the enemies of man; and that He who died was the first begotten from the dead, and the King of all the princes of the earth, who was going to fulfil, more and more, as the years and the ages rolled on, the glorious prayer which we have prayed this day, graciously to behold that family for whom He had been contented to die; and wisely and orderly to call each man to a vocation and a ministry, in which he might duly serve God and be a blessing to all around him, by the inspiration of Christ's Holy Spirit; and to have mercy, in His own good time, upon all Jews, Turks, heathens, and infidels, and bring them home to His flock, that they may be saved, and made one fold under one Shepherd--Him who was dead and is alive for evermore. Therefore, my dear friends, if we wish to keep Good Friday in spirit and in truth, we cannot do so better than by trying to carry out the very end for which Christ died on this day; and doing our part, small though it be, toward bringing those poor heathens home into Christ's fold, and teaching them the gospel and good news that for them, too, Christ died, and over them, too, Christ reigns alive for evermore; and bringing them home into His flock, that they, too, may find a place in His great family, and have their calling and ministry appointed to them among the nations of those who are saved and walk in the light of God and of the Lamb. I have refrained till now from speaking to you much about missionaries, and the duty which lies on us all of helping missions. It seemed to me that I must first teach you to understand these first and second collects before I went on. to the third; that I must first teach you that you belonged to Christ's family, and that He had called each of you, and appointed each of you to some order and degree in His Holy Church. But now, if indeed you have learnt that--if my preaching here for fourteen years has had any effect to teach you who and what you are, and what your duty is, let me entreat you to go on, and take the lesson of that third collect, and think of those poor Jews, Turks, infidels, and heretics, who still--many a million of them--sit, or rather wander, and fall, and lie, miserably wallowing in darkness and the shadow of death, and think whether you cannot do something toward helping them. What you can do, and how it is to be done, I will tell you hereafter; and, by God's grace, I hope to see men of God in this pulpit, who having been missionaries themselves, can tell you better than I, what remains to be done, and how you can help to do it. But take home this one thought with you, this Good Friday,--Christ, who liveth and was dead, and behold He is alive for evermore, if He be indeed precious to you, if you indeed feel for His sufferings, if you indeed believe that what He bought by those sufferings was a right to all the souls on earth, then do what you can toward repaying Him for His sufferings, by seeing of the travail of His soul, and being satisfied. All the reward He asks, or ever asked, is the hearts of sinners, that He may convert them; the souls of sinners, that He may save them; and they belong to Him already, for He bought them this day with His own most precious blood. Do something, then, toward helping Christ to His own. SERMON X. THE IMAGE OF THE EARTHLY AND THE HEAVENLY Eversley, Easter Day, 1871. 1 Cor. xv. 49. "As we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly." This season of Easter is the most joyful of all the year. It is the most comfortable time, in the true old sense of that word; for it is the season which ought to comfort us most--that is, it gives us strength; strength to live like men, and strength to die like men, when our time comes. Strength to live like men. Strength to fight against the temptation which Solomon felt when he said: "I have seen all the works which are done under the sun, and behold all is vanity and vexation of spirit. For what has a man of all his labour, and of the vexation of his heart, wherein he has laboured under the sun? For all his days are sorrow, and his travail grief. Yea, his heart taketh not rest in the night. This also is vanity. For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts: as the one dieth, so dieth the other: yea, they have all one breath: so that a man has no pre-eminence over a beast; for all is vanity. All go to one place: all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. Who knoweth the spirit of man that it goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that it goeth downward to the earth?" So thought Solomon in his temptation, and made up his mind that there was nothing better for a man than that he should eat and drink, and make his soul enjoy good in his labour. So thought Solomon, in spite of all his wisdom, because he had not heard the good news of Easter day. And so think many now, who are called wise men and philosophers; because they, alas! for them, will not believe the good news of Easter day. But what says Easter day? Easter day says, Man has pre-eminence over a beast. The man is redeemed from the death of the beasts by Christ, who rose on Easter day. Easter day says, Wherever the spirit of the beast goes, wherever the spirit of the brutal and the wicked man goes, the spirit of the true Christian goes upward, to Christ, who bought it with His precious blood. Easter day says, The body may turn to the dust from which it was taken, but the spirit lives for ever before God, who shall give it another body, as it shall please Him, as He gives to every seed its own body. And, therefore, Easter day says, There is something better for a man than to eat and drink and enjoy himself, for to-morrow he may die, and all be over; and that something is, to labour not merely for the meat which perishes with the perishing body, but to labour after the fruits of the spirit--love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance. These the life of the body does not give us; and these the death of the body not take away from us; for they are spiritual and heavenly, eternal and divine; and he who has them cannot die for ever. And therefore, we may comfort ourselves in all our labour, if only we labour at the one useful work on earth, to be good, and to do good, and to make others good likewise. True it is, as St. Paul says, that if in this life only we have hope in Christ we are of all men most miserable. For we do not care to be of the earth, earthy: we long to be of the heaven, heavenly. We do not care to spend our time in eating and drinking, mean covetousness, ambition, and the base pleasures of the flesh: we long after high and noble things, which we cannot get on earth, or at best only in fragments, and at rare moments; after the holiness and the blessedness of ourselves and our fellow-creatures. But we have hope in Christ for the next life as well as for this. Hope that in the next life He will give us power to succeed, where we failed here; that He will enable us to be good and to do good, and, if not to make others good (for there, we trust, all will be good together), to enjoy the fulness of that pleasure for which we have been longing on earth--the pleasure of seeing others good, as Christ is good and perfect, as their Father in heaven is perfect. To be good ourselves, and to live for ever in good company--ah my friends, that is true bliss. If we cannot reach that after death, it were better for us that death should make an end of us, and that when our body decays in the grave we should be annihilated, and become nothing for ever. But Easter day says to us, If you labour to create good company in this life, by trying to make other people round you good, you shall enjoy for ever in the next world the good company which you have helped to make. If you labour to make yourself good in this life, you shall enjoy the fruit of your labour in the next life by being good, and, therefore, blessed for ever. Easter day says, Your labour is not vanity and vexation of spirit. It is solid work, which shall receive solid pay from God hereafter. Easter day is a pledge--I may say a sacrament--from God to us, that He will righteously reward all righteous work; and that, therefore, it is worth any man's while to labour, to suffer, if need be even to die, in trying to be good, noble, useful, self-sacrificing, as Christ toiled and suffered and died and sacrificed Himself to do good. For then he will share Christ's reward, as he has shared Christ's labour, and be rewarded, as Christ was, by resurrection to eternal life. And so Easter day should give us strength to live like men--the only truly manly, truly human life; the life of being good and doing good. And strength to die. Men are afraid of dying, principally, I believe, because they fear the unknown. It is not that they are afraid of the pain of dying. It is not that they are afraid of going to hell; for in all my experience, at least, I have met with but one person who thought that he was going to hell. Neither is it that they are afraid of not going to heaven. Their expectation almost always is, that they are going thither. But they do not care much to go to heaven. They are willing enough to go there, because they know that they must go somewhere. But their notions of what heaven will be like are by no means clear. They have sung rapturous hymns in church or chapel about the heavenly Jerusalem, and passing Jordan safe to Canaan's shore, with no very clear notion of what the words meant--and small blame to them. But when they think of actually dying, they feel as if to go into the next world was to be turned out into the dark night, into an unknown land, away from house and home, and all they have known, and all they have loved; and they are ready to say with the good old heathen emperor, when he lay a-dying-- "Little soul of mine, wandering, kindly, Companion and guest of my body; Into what place art thou now departing, Shivering, naked, and pale?" And so they shrink from death. They must shrink from death, unless they will believe with their whole hearts the good news of Easter day. The more thoughtful and clever they are, the more they will shrink from death, and dread the thought of losing their bodies. They have always had bodies here on earth. They only know themselves as souls embodied, living in bodies; and they cannot think of themselves in the next world with any comfort, if they may not think of themselves as having bodies. And the more loving and affectionate they are, the more they will shrink from death, unless they believe with their whole hearts the good news of Easter day. For those whom they have loved on earth have bodies. Through their bodies--through their voices, their looks, their actions, they have known them, and thus they have loved them; and if their beloved ones are to have no bodies in the world to come, how shall they see them? how shall they know them? how shall they converse with them? It seems to them in that case neither they, nor those they love, would be the same persons in the world to come they are here; and that thought is lonely and dreadful, till they accept the good news of Easter day, the thrice blessed words of St. Paul, in his Epistle to the Corinthians, which they hear at the burial of those whom they love and lose. Oh, blessed news for us, and for those we love; those without whose company the world to come would be lonely and cheerless to us. For now we can say, Tell me not that as the beast dies, so dies the man. Tell me not that as Adam died because of sin, so must I die, and all I love. Tell me not that it is the universal law of nature that all things born in time must die in time; and that every human being, animal, and plant carries in itself from its beginning to its end a law of death, the seed of its own destruction. I know all that; but I care little for it, because I know more than that. I know that the man's body dies as the beast's body dies; but I know that the body is not the man, but only the husk, the shell of the man; that the true man, the true woman, lives on after the loss of his mortal body; and that there is an eternal law of life, which conquers the law of death; and by that law a fresh body will grow up round the true man, the immortal spirit, and will be as fit--ay, far fitter--to do his work, than this poor mortal body which has turned to death on earth. Tell me not that because I am descended from a mortal and sinful old Adam, of whom it is written that he was of the earth, earthly, therefore my soul is a part of my body, and dies when my body dies. I belong not to the old Adam, but to the new Adam--the new Head of men, who is the Lord from heaven, the author of eternal life to all who obey Him. Do not tell me that I have nothing in me but the likeness of the old Adam, for that seems to me and to St. Paul nothing but the likeness of the fallen savage and the brute in human form. I know I have more in me--infinitely more--than that. What may be in store for the savage, the brutal, the wicked, is God's concern, not mine. But what is in store for me I know--that as I have borne the image of the earthly, so shall I bear the image of the heavenly, if only the Spirit of Christ, the new Adam, be in me. For if Christ be in us, "the body is dead because of sin; but the Spirit is life because of righteousness." And if the Spirit of Him which raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in us, He that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken our mortal bodies by His Spirit that dwelleth in us. How He will do it I know not; neither do I care to know. When He will do it I know not; but it will be when it ought to be; and that is enough for me. That He can do it I know, for He is the Maker of the universe, and to Him all power is given in heaven and earth; and as for its being strange, wonderful, past understanding, that matters little to me. That will be but one wonder more in a world where all is wonderful--one more mystery in an utterly mysterious universe. And so, as Easter day has given us strength to live, let Easter day, too, give us strength to die. SERMON XI. EASTER DAY Chester Cathedral. 1870. St John xii. 24, 25. "Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal." This is our Lord's own parable. In it He tells us that His death, His resurrection, His ascension, is a mystery which we may believe, not only because the Bible tells us of it, but because it is reasonable, and according to the laws of His universe; a fulfilment, rather say the highest fulfilment, of one of those laws which runs through the world of nature, and through the spiritual and heavenly world likewise. "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone;"--barren, useless, and truly dead to the rest of the world around it, because it is shut up in itself, and its hidden life, with all its wondrous powers of growth and fertility, remains undeveloped, and will remain so, till it decays away, a worthless thing, into worthless dust. But if it be buried in the earth a while, then the rich life which lay hid in it is called out by that seeming death, and it sprouts, tillers, and flowers, and ripens its grain--forty-fold, sixty-fold, an hundred-fold; and so it shows God's mind and will concerning it. It shows what is really in it, and develops the full capabilities of its being. Even so, says our Lord, would His death, His resurrection, His ascension be. He speaks of His own resurrection and ascension; yes, but He speaks first of His own death. Before the corn can bring forth fruit, and show what is in it, fulfilling the law of its being, it must fall into the ground and die. Before our Lord could fulfil the prophecy, "Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell, neither wilt Thou suffer Thy Holy One to see corruption," He must fulfil the darker prophecy of that awful 88th Psalm, the only one of all the psalms which ends in sorrow, in all but despair, "My soul is full of trouble, and my life draweth nigh unto hell. I am counted as one of them that go down into the pit: and I have been even as a man that hath no strength. Free among the dead, like unto them that are wounded and lie in the grave, who are out of remembrance, and are cut away from thy hand." So it was to be. So, we may believe, it needed to be. Christ must suffer before He entered into His glory. He must die, before He could rise. He must descend into hell, before He ascended into heaven. For this is the law of God's kingdom. Without a Good Friday, there can be no Easter Day. Without self-sacrifice, there can be no blessedness, neither in earth nor in heaven. He that loveth his life will lose it. He that hateth his life in this paltry, selfish, luxurious, hypocritical world, shall keep it to life eternal. Our Lord Jesus Christ fulfilled that law; because it is the law, the law not of Moses, but of the kingdom of heaven, and must be fulfilled by him who would fulfil all righteousness, and be perfect, even as his Father in heaven is perfect. Bear this in mind, I pray you, and whenever you think of our Lord's resurrection and ascension, remember always that the background to His triumph is--a tomb. Remember that it is the triumph over suffering; a triumph of One who still bears the prints of the nails in His hands and in His feet, and the wound of the spear in His side; like many a poor soul who has followed Him triumphant at last, and yet scarred, and only not maimed in the hard battle of life. Remember for ever the adorable wounds of Christ. Remember for ever that St John saw in the midst of the throne of God the likeness of a lamb, as it had been slain. For so alone you will learn what our Lord's resurrection and ascension are to all who have to suffer and to toil on earth. For if our Lord's triumph had had no suffering before it,--if He had conquered as the Hindoos represent their gods as conquering their enemies, without effort, without pain, destroying them, with careless ease, by lightnings, hurled by a hundred hands and aided by innumerable armies of spirits,--what would such a triumph have been to us? What comfort, what example to us here struggling, often sinning, in this piecemeal world? We want--and blessed be God, we have--a Captain of our salvation, who has been made perfect by sufferings. We want--and blessed be God, we have--an High Priest who can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, because He has been tempted in all things like as we are, yet without sin. We want--and blessed be God, we have--a King who was glorified by suffering, that, if we are ever called on to sacrifice ourselves, we may hope, by suffering, to share His glory. And when we have remembered this, and fixed it in our minds, we may go on safely to think of His glory, and see that (as I said at first) His resurrection and ascension satisfy our consciences,-- satisfy that highest reason and moral sense within us, which is none other than the voice of the Holy Spirit of God. For see. Our Lord proved Himself to be the perfectly righteous Being, by His very passion. He proved it by being righteous utterly against His own interest; by enduring shame, torment, death, for righteousness' sake. But we feel that our Lord's history could not, must not, end there. Our conscience, which is our highest reason, shrinks from that thought. If our Lord had died and never risen, then would His history be full of nothing but despair to all who long to copy Him and do right at all costs. Our consciences demand that God should be just. We say with Abraham, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" Shall not He, who suffered without hope of reward, have His reward nevertheless? Shall not He who cried, "My God! my God! why hast Thou forsaken Me?" be justified by having it proved to all the world that God had not forsaken Him? But we surely cannot be more just than God. If we expect God to do right, we shall surely "find that He has done right, and more right than we could expect or dream. Therefore we may believe--I say that we must believe, if we be truly reasonable beings--what the Bible tells us; that Christ, who suffered more than all, was rewarded more than all; that Christ, who humbled Himself more than all, was exalted more than all; and that His resurrection and ascension, as St Paul tells us again and again, was meant to show men this,--to show them that God the Father has been infinitely just to the infinite merits of God the Son, Jesus Christ our Lord,--to justify our Lord to all mankind by His triumph over death and hell, and in justifying Him to justify His Father and our Father, his God and our God. And what is true of Christ must be true of us, the members of Christ. He is entered into His rest, and you desire to enter into it likewise. You have a right to desire it, for it is written, "There remaineth a rest for the people of God." Remember, then, that true rest can only be attained as He attained it, through labour. You desire to be glorified with Christ. Remember that true glory can only be attained in earth or heaven through self-sacrifice. Whosoever will save his life shall lose it; whosoever will lose his life shall save it. If that eternal moral law held good enough for the sinless Christ, who, though He were a son, yet learned obedience by the things which He suffered, how much more must it hold good of you and me and all moral and rational beings,--yea, for the very angels in heaven. They have not sinned. That we know; and we do not know; and I presume cannot know, that they have ever suffered. But this at least we know, that they have submitted. They have obeyed and have given up their own wills to be the ministers of God's will. In them is neither self-will nor selfishness; and therefore by faith, that is, by trust and loyalty, they stand. And so, by consenting to lose their individual life of selfishness, they have saved their eternal life in God, the life of blessedness and holiness; just as all evil spirits have lost their eternal life by trying to save their selfish life, and be something in themselves and of themselves without respect to God. This is a great mystery; indeed, it is the mystery of the eternal, divine, and blessed life, to which God of His mercy bring us all. And therefore Good Friday, Easter Day, Ascension Day, are set as great lights in the firmament of the spiritual year,--to remind us that we are not animals, born to do what we like, and fulfil the sinful lusts of the flesh, the ways whereof are death; but that we are moral and rational beings, members of Christ, children of God, inheritors of the kingdom of heaven; and that, therefore, I say it again, like Christ our Lord, we must die in order to live, stoop in order to conquer. They remind us that honour must grow out of humility; that freedom must grow out of discipline; that sure conquest must be born of heavy struggles; righteous joy out of righteous sorrow; pure laughter out of pure tears; true strength out of the true knowledge of our own weakness; sound peace of mind out of sound contrition; and that the heart which has a right to cry, "The Lord is on my side, I will not fear what man doeth unto me," must be born out of the heart which has cried, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" They remind us that in all things, as says our Lord, there cannot be joy, because a man is born into the world, unless there first be sorrow, because the hour of birth is come; and that he who would be planted into the likeness of Christ's resurrection, must, like the corn of wheat, be first planted into the likeness of His death, and die to sin and self, that he may live to righteousness and to God; and, like the corn of wheat, become truly living, truly strong, truly rich, truly useful, and develop the hidden capabilities of his being, fulfilling the mind and will of God concerning him. Again, I say, this is a great mystery. But again, I say, this is the law, not Moses' law, but the Gospel law;--the law of liberty, by which a man becomes truly free, because he has trampled under foot the passions of his own selfish flesh, till his immortal spirit can ascend free into the light of God, and into the love of God, and into the beneficence of God. My dear friends, remember these words, for they are true. Remember that St Paul always couples with the resurrection and ascension of our bodies in the next life the resurrection and ascension of our souls in this life; for without that, the resurrection of our bodies would be but a resurrection to fresh sin, and therefore to fresh misery and ruin. Remember his great words about that moral resurrection and ascension of our wills, our hearts, our characters, our actions. "God," he says, "who is rich in mercy, for His great love, wherewith He loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace are ye saved;) and hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus." And what are those heavenly places? And what is our duty in them? Let St Paul himself answer. "If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God." And what are they? Let St Paul answer once more; who should know better than he, save Christ alone? "Whatsoever things are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, of good report. If there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." Yes, think of these things,--and, thinking of them, ask the Holy Spirit of God to inspire you, and make a Whitsuntide in your hearts, even as He has made, I trust, a Good Friday and an Eastertide and an Ascension Day; that so, knowing these things, you may be blessed in doing them; that so- -and so only--may be fulfilled in you and me or any rational being, those blessed promises which were fulfilled in Christ our Lord. "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy." "He that now goeth on his way weeping, and beareth forth good seed, shall doubtless come again with joy, and bring his sheaves with him." "Blessed is the man whose strength is in Thee, in whose heart are Thy ways; who going through the vale of misery, use it for a well, and the pools are filled with water. They will go from strength to strength: and unto the God of gods appeareth every one of them in Sion." To which may God in His great mercy bring us all. Amen. SERMON XII. PRESENCE IN ABSENCE Eversley, third Sunday after Easter. 1862. St John xvi. 16. "A little while, and ye shall not see me: and again, a little while, and ye shall see me, because I go to the Father." Divines differ, and, perhaps, have always differed, about the meaning of these words. Some think that our Lord speaks in them of His death and resurrection. Others that He speaks of His ascension and coming again in glory. I cannot decide which is right. I dare not decide. It is a very solemn thing--too solemn for me--to say of any words of our Lord's they mean exactly this or that, and no more. For if wise men's words have (as they often have) more meanings than one, and yet all true, then surely the words of Jesus, the Son of God, who spake as never man spake--His words, I say, may have many meanings; yea, meanings without end, meanings which we shall never fully understand, perhaps even in heaven, and yet all alike true. But I think it is certain that most of the early Christians understood these words of our Lord's ascension and coming again in glory. They believed that He was coming again in a very little while during their own life-time, in a few months or years, to make an end of the world and to judge the quick and the dead. And as they waited for His coming, one generation after another, and yet He did not come, a sadness fell upon them. Christ seemed to have left the world. The little while that He had promised to be away seemed to have become a very long while. Hundreds of years passed, and yet Christ did not come in glory. And, as I said, a sadness fell on all the Church. Surely, they said, this is the time of which Christ said we were to weep and lament till we saw Him again--this is the time of which He said that the bridegroom should be taken from us, and we should fast in those days. And they did fast, and weep, and lament; and their religion became a very sad and melancholy one--most sad in those who were most holy, and loved their Lord best, and longed most for His coming in glory. What happened after that again I could tell you, but we have nothing to do with it to-day. We will rather go back, and see what the Lord's disciples thought He meant when He said,--"A little while, and ye shall not see me; and again, a little while, and ye shall see me, because I go to the Father." One would think, surely, that they must have taken those words to mean His death and resurrection. They heard Him speak them on the very night that He was betrayed. They saw Him taken from them that very night. In horror and agony they saw Him mocked and scourged, crucified, dead, and buried, as they thought for ever, and the world around rejoicing over His death. Surely they wept and lamented then. Surely they thought that He had gone away and left them then. And the third day, beyond all hope or expectation, they beheld Him alive again, unchanged, perfect, and glorious--as near them and as faithful to them as ever. Surely that was seeing Him again after a little while. Surely then their sorrow was turned to joy. Surely then a man, the man of all men, was born into the world a second time, and in them was fulfilled our Lord's most exquisite parable--most human and yet most divine--of the mother remembering no more her anguish for joy that a man is born into the world. I think, too, that we may see, by the disciples' conduct, that they took these words of the text to speak of Christ's death and resurrection. For when He ascended to heaven out of their sight, did they consider that was seeing Him no more? Did they think that He had gone away and left them? Did they, therefore, as would have been natural, weep and lament? On the contrary, we are told expressly by St Luke that they "returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and were continually in the temple," not weeping and lamenting, but praising and blessing God. Plainly they did not consider that Christ was parted from them when He ascended into heaven. He had been training them during the forty days between Easter Day and Ascension Day to think of Him as continually near them, whether they saw Him or not. Suddenly He came and went again. Mysteriously He appeared and disappeared. He showed them that though they saw not Him, He saw them, heard their words, knew the thoughts and intents of their hearts. He was always near them they felt; with them to the end of the world, whether in sight or out of sight. And when they saw Him ascend into heaven, it seemed to them no separation, no calamity, no change in His relation to them. He was gone to heaven. Surely He had been in heaven during those forty days, whenever they had not seen Him. He had gone to the Father. Might He not have been with the Father during those forty days, whenever they had not seen Him? Nay; was He not always in heaven? Was not heaven very near them? Did not Christ bring heaven with Him whithersoever He went? Was He not always with the Father, the Father who fills all things, in whom all created things live, and move, and have their being? How could they have thought otherwise about our Lord, when almost His last words to them were not, Lo, I leave you alone, but, "Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world." My friends, these may seem deep words to some--doubtless they are, for they are the words of the Bible--so deep that plain, unlearned people can make no use of them, and draw no lesson from them. I do not think so. I think it is of endless use and endless importance to you how you think about Christ; and, therefore, how you think about these forty days between our Lord's resurrection and ascension. You may think of our Lord in two ways. You may think of Him as having gone very far away, millions of millions of miles into the sky, and not to return till the last day,-- and then, I do not say that you will weep and lament. There are not many who have that notion about our Lord, and yet love Him enough to weep and lament at the thought of His having gone away. But your religion, when it wakes up in you, will be a melancholy and terrifying one. I say, when it wakes up in you--for you will be tempted continually to let it go to sleep. There will come over you the feeling--God forgive us, does it not come over us all but too often?--Christ is far away. Does He see me? Does He hear me? Will He find me out? Does it matter very much what I say and do now, provided I make my peace with Him before I die? And so will come over you not merely a carelessness about religious duties, about prayer, reading, church-going, but worse still, a carelessness about right and wrong. You will be in danger of caring little about controlling your passions, about speaking the truth, about being just and merciful to your fellow-men. And then, when your conscience wakes you up at times, and cries, Prepare to meet thy God! you will be terrified and anxious at the thought of judgment, and shrink from the thought of Christ's seeing you. My friends, that is a fearful state, though a very common one. What is it but a foretaste of that dreadful terror in which those who would not see in Christ their Lord and Saviour will call on the mountains to fall on them, and the hills to cover them, from Him that sitteth on the throne, and from the anger of the Lamb? But, again: you may think of Christ as His truest servants, though they might have been long in darkness, in all ages and countries have thought of Him, sooner or later. And they thought of Him, as the disciples did; as of One who was about their path and about their bed, and spying out all their ways; as One who was in heaven, but who, for that very reason, was bringing heaven down to earth continually in the gracious inspirations of His Holy Spirit; as One who brought heaven down to them as often as He visited their hearts and comforted them with sweet assurance of His love, His faithfulness, His power--as God grant that He may comfort those of you who need comfort. And that thought, that Christ was always with them, even to the end of the world, sobered and steadied them, and yet refreshed and comforted them. It sobered them. What else could it do? Does it not sober us to see even a picture of Christ crucified? How must it have sobered them to carry, as good St Ignatius used to say of himself, Christ crucified in his heart. A man to whom Christ, as it were, showed perpetually His most blessed wounds, and said, Behold what I have endured--how dare he give way to his passion? How dare he be covetous, ambitious, revengeful, false? And yet it cheered and comforted them. How could it do otherwise, to know all day long that He who was wounded for their iniquities, and by whose stripes they were healed, was near them day and night, watching over them as a father over his child, saying to them,--"Fear not, I am He that was dead, and am alive for evermore, and I hold the keys of death and hell. Though thou walkest through the fires, I will be with thee. I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." Yes, my friends, if you wish your life--and therefore your religion, which ought to be the very life of your life--to be at once sober and cheerful, full of earnestness and full of hope, believe our Lord's words which He spoke during these very forty days,--"Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world." Believe that heaven has not taken Him away from you, but brought Him nearer to you; and that He has ascended up on high, not that He, in whom alone is life, might empty this earth of His presence, but that He might fill all things, not this earth only, but all worlds, past, present, and to come. Believe that wherever two or three are gathered together in Christ's name, there He is in the midst of them; that the holy communion is the sign of His perpetual presence; and that when you kneel to receive the bread and wine, Christ is as near you--spiritually, indeed, and invisibly, but really and truly--as near you as those who are kneeling by your side. And if it be so with Christ, then it is so with those who are Christ's, with those whom we love. It is the Christ in them which we love; and that Christ in them is their hope of glory; and that glory is the glory of Christ. They are partakers of His death, therefore they are partakers of His resurrection. Let us believe that blessed news in all its fulness, and be at peace. A little while and we see them; and again a little while and we do not see them. But why? Because they are gone to the Father, to the source and fount of all life and power, all light and love, that they may gain life from His life, power from His power, light from His light, love from His love--and surely not for nought? Surely not for nought, my friends. For if they were like Christ on earth, and did not use their powers for themselves alone, if they are to be like Christ when they shall see Him as He is, then, more surely, will they not use their powers for themselves, but, as Christ uses His, for those they love. Surely, like Christ, they may come and go, even now, unseen. Like Christ, they may breathe upon our restless hearts and say, Peace be unto you--and not in vain. For what they did for us when they were on earth they can more fully do now that they are in heaven. They may seem to have left us, and we, like the disciples, may weep and lament. But the day will come when the veil shall be taken from our eyes, and we shall see them as they are, with Christ, and in Christ for ever; and remember no more our anguish for joy that a man is born into the world, that another human being has entered that one true, real, and eternal world, wherein is neither disease, disorder, change, decay, nor death, for it is none other than the Bosom of the Father. SERMON XIII. ASCENSION DAY Eversley. Chester Cathedral. 1872. St John viii. 58. "Before Abraham was, I am." Let us consider these words awhile. They are most fit for our thoughts on this glorious day, on which the Lord Jesus ascended to His Father, and to our Father, to His God, and to our God, that He might be glorified with the glory which He had with the Father before the making of the world. For it is clear that we shall better understand Ascension Day, just as we shall better understand Christmas or Eastertide, the better we understand Who it was who was born at Christmas, suffered and rose at Eastertide, and, as on this day, ascended into heaven. Who, then, was He whose ascent we celebrate? What was that glory which, as far as we can judge of divine things, He resumed as on this day? Let us think a few minutes, with all humility, not rashly intruding ourselves into the things we have not seen, or meddling with divine matters which are too hard for us, but taking our Lord's words simply as they stand, and where we do not understand them, believing them nevertheless. Now it is clear that the book of Exodus and our Lord's words speak of the same person. The Old Testament tells of a personage who appeared to Moses in the wilderness, and who called Himself "the Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob." But this personage also calls Himself "I AM." "I AM THAT I AM:" "and He said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you." In the New Testament we read of a personage who calls Himself the Son of God, is continually called the Lord, and who tells His disciples to call Him by that name without reproving them, though they and He knew well what it meant--that it meant no less than this, that He, Jesus of Nazareth, poor mortal man as He seemed, was still the Lord, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. I do not say that the disciples saw that at first, clearly or fully, till after our Lord's resurrection. But there was one moment shortly before His death, when they could have had no doubt who He assumed Himself to be. For the unbelieving Jews had no doubt, and considered Him a blasphemer; and these were His awful and wonderful words,--I do not pretend to understand them--I take them simply as I find them, and believe and adore. "Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day, and he saw it, and was glad. Then said the Jews unto Him, Thou art not yet fifty years old, and hast Thou seen Abraham?" One cannot blame them for asking that question, for Abraham had been dead then nearly two thousand years. But what is our Lord's solemn answer? "Verily, verily, I say unto you, before Abraham was, I am." "I Am." The same name by which our Lord God had revealed Himself to Moses in the wilderness, some sixteen hundred years before. If these words were true,--and the Lord prefaces them with Verily, verily, Amen, Amen, which was as solemn an asseveration as any oath could be--then the Lord Jesus Christ is none other than the God of Abraham, the God of Moses, the God of the Jews, the God of the whole universe, past, present, and to come. Let us think awhile over this wonder of all wonders. The more we think over it, we shall find it not only the wonder of all wonders, but the good news of all good news. The deepest and soundest philosophers will tell us that there must be an "I Am." That is, as they would say, a self-existent Being; neither made nor created, but who has made and created all things; who is without parts and passions, and is incomprehensible, that is cannot be comprehended, limited, made smaller or weaker, or acted on in any way by any of the things that He has made. So that this self-existing Being whom we call God, would be exactly what He is now, if the whole universe, sun, moon, and stars, were destroyed this moment; and would be exactly what He is now, if there had never been any universe at all, or any thing or being except His own perfect and self-existent Self. For He lives and moves and has His being in nothing. But all things live and move and have their being in Him. He was before all things, and by Him all things consist. And this is the Catholic Faith; and not only that, this is according to sound and right reason. But more: the soundest philosophers will tell you that God must be not merely a self-existent Being, but the "I Am:" that if God is a Spirit, and not merely a name for some powers and laws of brute nature and matter, He must be able to say to Himself, "I Am:" that He must know Himself, that He must be conscious of Himself, of who and what He is, as you and I are conscious of ourselves, and more or less of who and what we are. And this, also, I believe to be true, and rational, and necessary to the Catholic Faith. But they will tell you again--and this, too, is surely true--that I Am must be the very name of God, because God alone can say perfectly, "I Am," and no more. You and I dare not, if we think accurately, say of ourselves, "I am." We may say, I am this or that; I am a man; I am an Englishman; but we must not say, "I am;" that is, "I exist of myself." We must say--not I am; but I become, or have become; I was made; I was created; I am growing, changing; I depend for my very existence on God and God's will, and if He willed, I should be nothing and nowhere in a moment. God alone can say, I Am, and there is none beside Me, and never has, nor can be. I exist, absolutely, and simply; because I choose to exist, and get life from nothing; for I Am the Life, and give life to all things. But you may say, What is all this to us? It is very difficult to understand, and dreary, and even awful. Why should we care for it, even if it be true? Yes, my friends; philosophy may be true, and yet be dreary, and awful, and have no gospel and good news in it at all. I believe it never can have; that only in Revelation, and in the Revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ, can poor human beings find any gospel and good news at all. And sure I am, that that is an awful thought, a dreary thought, a crushing thought, which makes a man feel as small, and worthless, and helpless, and hopeless, as a grain of dust, or a mote in the sunbeam--that thought of God for ever contained in Himself, and saying for ever to Himself, "I Am, and there is none beside Me." But the Gospel, the good news of the Old Testament, the Gospel, the good news of the New Testament, is the Revelation of God and God's ways, which began on Christmas Day, and finished on Ascension Day: and what is that? What but this? That God does not merely say to Himself in Majesty, "I Am;" but that He goes out of Himself in Love, and says to men, "I Am." That He is a God who has spoken to poor human beings, and told them who He was; and that He, the I Am, the self-existent One, the Cause of life, of all things, even the Maker and Ruler of the Universe, can stoop to man--and not merely to perfect men, righteous men, holy men, wise men, but to the enslaved, the sinful, the brutish--that He may deliver them, and teach them, and raise them from the death of sin, to His own life of righteousness. Do you not see the difference, the infinite difference, and the good news in that? Do you not see a whole heaven of new hope and new duty is opened to mankind in that one fact--God has spoken to man. He, the I Am, the Self-Existent, who needs no one, and no thing, has turned aside, as it were, and stooped from the throne of heaven, again and again, during thousands of years, to say to you, and me, and millions of mankind, I Am your God. How do you prosper?--what do you need?--what are you doing?-- for if you are doing justice to yourself and your fellow-men, then fear not that I shall be just to you. And more. When that I Am, the self-existent God, could not set sinful men right by saying this, then did He stoop once more from the throne of the heavens to do that infinite deed of love, of which it is written, that He who called Himself "I Am," the God of Abraham, was conceived of the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, crucified under Pontius Pilate, rose again the third day, and ascended into heaven,--that He might send down the Spirit of the "I Am," the Holy Spirit who proceedeth from the Father and the Son, upon all who ask Him; that they may be holy as God is holy, and perfect as God is perfect. Yes, my dear friends, remember that, and live in the light of that; the gospel of good news of the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, very God of very God begotten. Know that God has spoken to you as He spoke to Abraham, and said,--I am the Almighty God, walk before Me, and be thou perfect. Know that He has spoken to you as He spoke to Moses, saying,--I am the Lord thy God, who have brought you, and your fathers before you, out of the spiritual Egypt of heathendom, and ignorance, sin, and wickedness, into the knowledge of the one, true, and righteous God. But know more, that He has spoken to you by the mouth of Jesus Christ, saying,--I am He that died in the form of mortal man upon the cross for you. And, behold, I am alive for evermore; and to me all power is given in heaven and earth. Yes, my friends, let us lay to heart, even upon this joyful day, the awful warnings of the Epistle to the Hebrews,--God, the I Am, has spoken to us; God, the I Am, is speaking to us now. See that you refuse not Him that speaketh; for if they escaped not who refused Moses that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape if we turn away from Him that speaketh from heaven; wherefore follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord, and have grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably, with reverence and godly fear. For our God is a consuming fire. To those who disobey Him, eternal wrath; to those who love Him, eternal love. Yes, my friends. Let us believe that, and live in the light of that, with reverence and godly fear, all the year round. But let us specially to-day, as far as our dull feelings and poor imaginations will allow us; let us, I say, adore the ascended Saviour, who rules for ever, a Man in the midst of the throne of the universe, and that Man--oh, wonder of wonders!--slain for us; and let us say with St Paul of old, with all our hearts and minds and souls:--Now to the King of the Ages, immortal, invisible, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be honour and glory, for ever and ever. Amen! SERMON XIV. THE COMFORTER Eversley. Sunday after Ascension Day. 1868. St John xv. 26. "When the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you from the Father, even the Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of me." Some writers, especially when they are writing hymns, have fallen now-a- days into a habit of writing of the Holy Spirit of God, in a tone of which I dare not say that it is wrong or untrue; but of which I must say, that it is one-sided. And if there are two sides to a matter, it must do us harm to look at only one of them. And I think that it does people harm to hear the Holy Spirit of God, the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, spoken of in terms, not of reverence, but of endearment. For consider: He is the "Creator-Spirit, by whose aid The world's foundations first were laid," the life-giving Spirit of whom it is written, Thou sendest forth Thy Spirit, and things live, and Thou renewest the face of the earth. But He is the destroying Spirit too; who can, when He will, produce not merely life, but death; who can, and does send earthquakes, storm, and pestilence; of whom Isaiah writes--"All flesh is as grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth; because the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it." I think it does people harm to hear this awful and almighty being, I say, spoken of merely as the "sweet Spirit," and "gentle dove"--words which are true, but only true, if we remember other truths, equally true of Him, concerning whom they are spoken. The Spirit of God, it seems to me, is too majestic a being to be talked of hastily as "sweet." Words may be true, and yet it may not be always quite reverent to use them. An earthly sovereign may be full of all human sweetness and tenderness, yet we should not dare to address him as "sweet." But, indeed, some of this talk about the Holy Spirit is not warranted by Scripture at all. In one of the hymns, for instance, in our hymn-book-- an excellent hymn in other respects, there is a line which speaks of the Holy Spirit as possessing "The brooding of the gentle dove." Now, this line is really little but pretty sentiment, made up of false uses of Scripture. The Scripture speaks once of the Holy Spirit of God brooding like a bird over its nest. But where? In one of the most mysterious, awful, and important of all texts. "And the earth was without form and void. And the Spirit of God moved (brooded) over the face of the deep." What has this--the magnificent picture of the Life- giving Spirit brooding over the dead world, to bring it into life again, and create from it sea and land, heat and fire, and cattle and creeping things after their kind, and at last man himself, the flower and crown of things;--what has that to do with the brooding of a gentle dove? But the Holy Spirit is spoken of in Scripture under the likeness of a dove? True, and here is another confusion. The Dove is not the emblem of gentleness in the Bible: but the Lamb. The dove is the emblem of something else, pure and holy, but not of gentleness; and therefore the Holy Spirit is not spoken of in Scripture as brooding as a gentle dove; but very differently, as it seems to me. St Matthew and St John say, that at our Lord's baptism the Holy Spirit was seen, not brooding, but descending from heaven as a dove. To any one who knows anything of doves, who will merely go out into the field or the farm-yard and look at them, and who will use his own eyes, that figure is striking enough, and grand enough. It is the swiftness of the dove, and not its fancied gentleness that is spoken of. The dove appearing, as you may see it again and again, like a speck in the far off sky, rushing down with a swiftness which outstrips the very eagle; returning surely to the very spot from which it set forth, though it may have flown over hundreds of miles of land, and through the very clouds of heaven. It is the sky- cleaving force and swiftness, the unerring instinct of the dove, and not a sentimental gentleness to which Scripture likens that Holy Spirit, which like the rushing mighty wind bloweth whither it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth;--that Holy Spirit who, when He fell on the apostles, fell in tongues of fire, and shook all the house where they were sitting; that Holy Spirit of whom one of the wisest Christians who ever lived, who knew well enough the work of the Spirit, arguing just as I am now against the fancy of associating the Holy Spirit merely with pretty thoughts of our own, and pleasant feelings of our own, and sentimental raptures of our own, said, "Wouldst thou know the manner of spiritual converse? Of the way in which the Spirit of God works in man? Then it is this: He hath taken me up and dashed me down. Like a lion, I look, that He will break all my bones. From morning till evening, Thou wilt make an end of me." But people are apt to forget this. And therefore they fall into two mistakes. They think of the Holy Spirit as only a gentle, and what they call a dove-like being; and they forget what a powerful, awful, literally formidable being He is. They lose respect for the Holy Spirit. They trifle with Him; and while they sing hymns about His gentleness and sweetness, they do things which grieve and shock Him; forgetting the awful warning which He, at the very outset of the Christian Church, gave against such taking of liberties with God the Holy Ghost:--how Ananias and Sapphira thought that the Holy Spirit was One whom they might honour with their lips, and more, with their outward actions, but who did not require truth in the inward parts, and did not care for their telling a slight falsehood that they might appear more generous than they really were in the eyes of men; and how the answer of the Holy Spirit of God was that He struck them both dead there and then for a warning to all such triflers, till the end of time. Another mistake which really pious and good people commit, is, that they think the Holy Spirit of God to be merely, or little beside, certain pleasant frames, and feelings, and comfortable assurances, in their own minds. They do not know that these pleasant frames and feelings really depend principally on their own health: and, then, when they get out of health, or when their brain is overworked, and the pleasant feelings go, they are terrified and disheartened, and complain of spiritual dryness, and cry out that God's Spirit has deserted them, and are afraid that God is angry with them, or even that they have committed the unpardonable sin: not knowing that God is not a man that He should lie, nor a son of man that He should repent; that God is as near them in the darkness as in the light; that whatever their own health, or their own feelings may be, yet still in God they live, and move, and have their being; that to God's Spirit they owe all which raises them above the dumb animals; that nothing can separate them from the love of Him who promised that He would not leave us comfortless, but send to us His Holy Ghost to comfort us, and exalt us to the same place whither He has gone before. Now, why do I say all this? To take away comfort from you? To make you fear and dread the Spirit of God? God forbid! Who am I, to take away comfort from any human being! I say it to give yon true comfort, to make you trust and love the Holy Spirit utterly, to know Him--His strength and His wisdom as well as His tenderness and gentleness. You know that afflictions do come--terrible bereavements, sorrows sad and strange. My sermon does not make them come. There they are, God help us all, and too many of them, in this world. But from whom do they come? Who is Lord of life and death? Who is Lord of joy and sorrow? Is not that the question of all questions? And is not the answer the most essential of all answers? It is the Holy Spirit of God; the Spirit who proceedeth from the Father and the Son; the Spirit of the Father who so loved the world that He spared not His only begotten Son; the Spirit of the Son who so loved the world, that He stooped to die for it upon the Cross; the Spirit who is promised to lead you into all truth, that you may know God, and in the knowledge of Him find everlasting life; the Spirit who is the Comforter, and says, I have seen thy ways and will heal thee, I will lead thee also, and restore comforts to thee and to thy mourners. I speak peace to him that is near, and to him that is far off, saith the Lord; and I will heal him. Is it not the most blessed news, that He who takes away, is the very same as He who gives? That He who afflicts is the very same as He who comforts? That He of whom it is written that, "as a lion, so will He break all my bones; from day even to night wilt Thou make an end of me;" is the same as He of whom it is written, "He shall gather the lambs in His arms, and carry them, and shall gently lead those that are with young;" and, again, "as a beast goeth down into the valley, so the Spirit of the Lord caused him to rest?" That He of whom it is written, "Our God is a consuming fire," is the same as He who has said, "When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned?" That He who brings us into "the valley of the shadow of death," is the same as He of whom it is said, "Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me?" Is not that blessed news? Is it not the news of the Gospel; and the only good news which people will really care for, when they are tormented, not with superstitious fears and doctrines of devils which man's diseased conscience has originated, but tormented with the real sorrows, the rational fears of this stormy human life. We all like comfort. But what kind of comfort do we not merely like but need? Merely to be comfortable?--To be free from pain, anxiety, sorrow?- -To have only pleasant faces round us, and pleasant things said to us? If we want that comfort, we shall very seldom have it. It will be very seldom good for us to have it. The comfort which poor human beings want in such a world as this, is not the comfort of ease, but the comfort of strength. The comforter whom we need is not one who will merely say kind things, but give help--help to the weary and heavy laden heart which has no time to rest. We need not the sunny and smiling face, but the strong and helping arm. For we may be in that state that smiles are shocking to us, and mere kindness,--though we may be grateful for it--of no more comfort to us than sweet music to a drowning man. We may be miserable, and unable to help being miserable, and unwilling to help it too. We do not wish to flee from our sorrow, we do not wish to forget our sorrow. We dare not; it is so awful, so heartrending, so plain spoken, that God, the master and tutor of our hearts must wish us to face it and endure it. Our Father has given us the cup--shall we not drink it? But who will help us to drink the bitter cup? Who will be the comforter, and give us not mere kind words, but strength? Who will give us the faith to say with Job, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him?" Who will give us the firm reason to look steadily at our grief, and learn the lesson it was meant to teach? Who will give us the temperate will, to keep sober and calm amid the shocks and changes of mortal life? Above all, I may say--Who will lead us into all truth? How much is our sorrow increased-- how much of it is caused by simple ignorance! Why has our anxiety come? How are we to look at it? What are we to do? Oh, that we had a comforter who would lead us into all truth:--not make us infallible, or all knowing, but lead us into truth; at least put us in the way of truth, put things in their true light to us, and give us sound and rational views of life and duty. Oh, for a comforter who would give us the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and ghostly strength, the spirit of knowledge and true godliness, and fill us with that spirit of God's holy fear, which would make us not superstitious, not slavish, not anxious, but simply obedient, loyal and resigned. If we had such a Comforter as that, could we not take evil from his hands, as well as good? We have had fathers of our flesh who corrected us, and we gave them reverence. They chastised us, but we loved and trusted them, because we knew that they loved and trusted us--chastised us to make us better--chastised us because they trusted us to become better. But if we can find a Father of our spirits, of our souls, shall we not rather be in subjection to Him and live? If He sent us a Comforter, to comfort and guide, and inspire, and strengthen us, shall we not say of that Comforter--"Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." If we had such a Comforter as that, we should not care, if He seemed at times stern, as well as kind; we could endure rebuke and chastisement from Him, if we could only get from Him wisdom to understand the rebuke, and courage to bear the chastisement. Where is that Comforter? God answers:--That Comforter am I, the God of heaven and earth. There are comforters on earth who can help thee with wise words and noble counsel, can be strong as man, and tender as woman. Then God can be more strong than man, and more tender than woman likewise. And when the strong arm of man supports thee no longer, yet under thee are the everlasting arms of God. Oh, blessed news, that God Himself is the Comforter. Blessed news, that He who strikes will also heal: that He who gives the cup of sorrow, will also give the strength to drink it. Blessed news, that chastisement is not punishment, but the education of a Father. Blessed news, that our whole duty is the duty of a child--of the Son who said in His own agony, "Father, not my will, but thine be done." Blessed news, that our Comforter is the Spirit who comforted Christ the Son Himself; who proceeds both from the Father and from the Son; and who will therefore testify to us both of the Father and the Son, and tell us that in Christ we are indeed, really and literally, the children of God who may cry to Him, "Father," with full understanding of all that that royal word contains. Blessed, too, to find that in the power of the Divine Majesty, we can acknowledge the unity, and know and feel that the Father, Son and Holy Ghost are all one in love to the creatures whom they have made-- their glory equal, for the glory of each and all is perfect charity, and their majesty co-eternal, because it is a perfect majesty; whose justice is mercy, whose power is goodness, its very sternness love, love which gives hope and counsel, and help and strength, and the true life which this world's death cannot destroy. SERMON XV. THOU ART WORTHY Eversley, 1869. Chester Cathedral, 1870. Trinity Sunday. Revelation iv. 11. "Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for Thou hast created all things, and for Thy pleasure they are and were created." I am going to speak to you on a deep matter, the deepest and most important of all matters, and yet I hope to speak simply. I shall say nothing which you cannot understand, if you will attend. I shall say nothing, indeed, which you could not find out for yourselves, if you will think, and use your own common sense. I wish to speak to you of Theology--of God Himself. For this Trinity Sunday of all the Sundays of the year, is set apart for thinking of God Himself--not merely of our own souls, though we must never forget them, nor of what God has done for our souls, though we must never forget that--but of what God is Himself, what He would be if we had no souls--if there were, and had been from the beginning, no human beings at all upon the earth. Now, if we look at any living thing--an animal, say, or a flower, and consider how curiously it is contrived, our common sense will tell us at once that some one has made it; and if any one answers--Oh! the flower was not made, it grew--our common sense would tell us that that was only a still more wonderful contrivance, and that there must be some one who gave it the power of growing, and who makes it grow. And so our common sense would tell us, as it told the heathens of old, that there must be GODS--beings whom we cannot see, who made the world. But if we watch things more closely, we should find out that all things are made more or less upon the same plan; that (and I tell you that this is true, strange as it may seem) all animals, however different they may seem to our eyes, are made upon the same plan; all plants and flowers, however different they may seem, are made upon the same plan; all stones, and minerals, and earths, however different they may seem, are made upon the same plan. Then common sense would surely tell us, one God made all the animals, one God made all the plants, one God made all the earths and stones. But if we watch more closely still, we should find that the plants could not live without the animals, nor the animals without the plants, nor either of them without the soil beneath our feet, and the air and rain above our heads. That everything in the world worked together on one plan, and each thing depended on everything else. Then common sense would tell us, one God must have made the whole world. But if we watched more closely again, or rather, if we asked the astronomers, who study the stars and heavens, they would tell us that all the worlds over our heads, all the stars that spangle the sky at night, were made upon the same plan as our earth--that sun and moon, and all the host of heaven, move according to the same laws by which our earth moves, and as far as we can find out, have been made in the same way as our earth has been made, and that these same laws must have been going on, making worlds after worlds, for hundreds of thousands of years, and ages beyond counting, and will, in all probability, go on for countless ages more. Then common sense will tell us, the same God has made all worlds, past, present, and to come. There is but one God, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. So we should learn something of how all things were made; and then would come a second question, why all things were made? Why did God make the worlds? Let us begin with a very simple example. Simple things will often teach us most. You see a flower growing, not in a garden, but wild in a field or wood. You admire its beautiful colours, or if it is fragrant, its sweet scent. Now, why was that flower put there? You may answer, "to please me." My dear friends, I should be the last person to deny that. I can never see a child picking a nosegay, much less a little London child, born and bred and shut up among bricks and mortar, when it gets for the first time into a green field, and throws itself instinctively upon the buttercups and daisies, as if they were precious jewels and gold;--I never can see that sight, I say, without feeling that there are such things as final causes--I mean that the great Father in heaven put those flowers into that field on purpose to give pleasure to His human children. But then comes the question, Of all the flowers in a single field, is one in ten thousand ever looked at by child or by men? And yet they are just as beautiful as the rest; and God has, so to speak, taken just as much pains with the many beautiful things which men will never see, as with the few, very few, which men may see. And when one thinks further about this--when one thinks of the vast forests in other lands which the foot of man has seldom or never trod, and which, when they are entered, are found to be full of trees, flowers, birds, butterflies, so beautiful and glorious, that anything which we see in these islands is poor and plain in comparison with them; and when we remember that these beautiful creatures have been going on generation after generation, age after age, unseen and unenjoyed by any human eyes, one must ask, Why has God been creating all that beauty? simply to let it all, as it were, run to waste, till after thousands of years one traveller comes, and has a hasty glimpse of it? Impossible. Or again--and this is an example still more strange, and yet it is true. We used to think till within a very few years past, that at the bottom of the deep sea there were no living things--that miles below the surface of the ocean, in total darkness, and under such a weight of water as would crush us to a jelly, there could be nothing, except stones, and sand, and mud. But now it is found out that the bottom of the deepest seas, and the utter darkness into which no ray of light can ever pierce, are alive and swarming with millions of creatures as cunningly and exquisitely formed, and in many cases as brilliantly coloured, as those which live in the sunlight along the shallow shores. Now, my dear friends,--surely beautiful things were made to be seen by some one, else why were they made beautiful? Common sense tells us that. But who has seen those countless tribes, which have been living down, in utter darkness, since the making of the world? Common sense, I think, can give but one answer--GOD. He, and He only, to whom the night is as clear as the day, to whom the darkness and the light are both alike. But more--God has not only made things beautiful; He has made things happy; whatever misery there may be in the world, there is no denying that. However sorrow may have come into the world, there is a great deal more happiness than misery in it. Misery is the exception; happiness is the rule. No rational man ever heard a bird sing, without feeling that that bird was happy; and, if so, his common sense ought to tell him that if God made that bird, He made it to be happy; He intended it to be happy, and He takes pleasure in its happiness, though no human ear should ever hear its song, no human heart should ever share in its joy. Yes, the world was not made for man; but man, like all the world, was made for God. Not for man's pleasure merely, not for man's use, but for God's pleasure all things are, and for God's pleasure they were created. And now, surely, common sense will tell us why God made all things. For His own pleasure. God is pleased to make them, and pleased with what He has made, because what He has made is worth being pleased with. He has seen all things that He has made, and, behold, they are very good, and right, and wise, and beautiful, and happy, each after its kind. So that, as the Psalmist says, "The Lord shall rejoice in His works." And Scripture tells that it must be so, if we only recollect and believe one word of St. John's that "God is Love"--for it is the very essence of love, that it cannot be content to love itself. It must have something which is not itself to love that it may go out of itself, and forget itself, and spend itself in the good and in the happiness of what it loves. All true love of husband and wife, mother and child, sister and brother, friend and friend, man to his country,--what does it mean but this? Forgetting one's selfish happiness in doing good to others, and finding a deeper, higher happiness in that. The man who only loves himself knows not what Love means. In truth, he does not even love himself. He is his own worst enemy: his selfishness torments him with discontent, disgust, pride, fear, and all evil passions and lusts; and in him is fulfilled our Lord's saying, that he that will save his life shall lose it. But the man who is full of love, as God is full of love, who forgets himself in making others happy, who lives the eternal life of God, which is alone worth living, he is the only truly happy man; and in him is fulfilled that other saying of our Lord, that he who loseth his life shall save it. And the loving, unselfish man too is the only sound theologian, for he who dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. He alone will understand the mystery of who God is, and why He made all things. The loving man alone, I say, will understand the mystery--how because God is love He could not live alone in the abyss, but must create all things, all worlds and heavens, yea, and the heaven of heavens, that He might have something beside Himself, whereon to spend His boundless love. And why? Because love can only love what is somewhat like itself, He made all things according to the idea of His own eternal mind. Because He is unchangeable, and a God of order and of law, He made all things according to one order, and gave them a law which cannot be broken, that they might continue this day as they were at the beginning, serving Him and fulfilling His word. Because He is a God of justice, He made all things just, depending on each other, helping each other, and compelled to sacrifice themselves for each other, and minister to each other whether they will or not. Because He is a God of beauty, He made all things beautiful, of a variety and a richness unspeakable, that He might rejoice in all His works, and find a divine delight in every moss which grows upon the moor, and every gnat which dances in the sun. Because He is a God of love, He gave to every creature a power of happiness according to its kind, that He might rejoice in the happiness of His creatures. And lastly, because God is a spirit--a moral and a rational Being--therefore He created rational beings to be more like Him than any other creatures, and constituted the services of men and angels in a most wonderful order, that they might reverence law as He does, and justice as He does--that they might love to be loving as He loves, and to be useful as He is useful--that they might rejoice in the beauty of His works as He rejoices in them Himself; and, catching from time to time fuller and fuller glimpses of that Divine and wonderful order according to which He has made all things and all worlds, may see more and more clearly, as the years roll on, that all things are just, and beautiful, and good; and join more and more heartily in the hymn which goes up for ever from every sun, and star, and world, and from the tiniest creature in these worlds: "Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power; for Thou hast created all things, and for Thy pleasure they are and were created." Now, to God the Father, who, out of His boundless love, ordains the making of all things; and to God the Son, who, out of His boundless love, performs the making of all things; and to God the Holy Spirit, who, out of His boundless love, breathes law and kind, life and growth into all things, three Persons in one, ever-blessed Trinity, be all glory, and honour, and praise, for ever and ever. Amen. SERMON XVI. THE GLORY OF THE TRINITY Eversley, 1868. St Mary's Chester, 1871. Trinity Sunday. Psalm civ. 31, 33. "The glory of the Lord shall endure for ever: The Lord shall rejoice in his works. I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live: I will sing praise to my God while I have my being." This is Trinity Sunday, on which we think especially of the name of God. A day which, to a wise man, may well be one of the most solemn, and the most humiliating days of the whole year. For is it not humiliating to look stedfastly, even for a moment, at God's greatness, and then at our own littleness; at God's strength and at our own weakness; at God's wisdom, and at our own ignorance; and, most of all, at God's righteousness, and at our own sins? I do not say that it should not be so. Rather, I say, it should be so. For what is more wholesome for you and me, and any man, than to be humiliated--humbled--and brought to our own level--that all may see who, what, and where we are? What more wholesome than to be made holy and humble men of heart? What more wholesome for us, who are each of us tempted to behave as if we were the centre of the universe, to judge ourselves the most important personages in the world, and to judge of everything according as it is pleasant or unpleasant to us, each in our own family, our own sect, our own neighbourhood; what more wholesome than to be brought now and then face to face with God Himself, and see what poor, little, contemptible atoms we are at best, compared with Him who made heaven and earth?--to see how well God and God's world have gone on for thousands of years without our help;--how well they will go on after we are dead and gone? Face to face with God! And how far shall we have to go to find ourselves face to face with God? Not very far, according to St Paul. God, he says, is "not far from every one of us; for in Him we live, and move, and have our being." In God, in the ever blessed Trinity--Father, Son, and Holy Ghost--we, and not we only, but every living thing--each flower, each insect--lives, and moves, and has its being. So it is--strange as it may seem, and we cannot make it otherwise. You fancy God far off--somewhere in the skies, beyond suns and stars. Know that the heavens, and the heaven of heavens, cannot contain Him. Rather, in the very deepest sense, He contains them. In God, suns and stars, and all the host of heaven, live, and move, and have their being; and if God destroyed them all at this very moment, and the whole universe became nothing once more, as it was nothing at first, still God would remain, neither greater nor less, neither stronger nor weaker, neither richer nor poorer, than He was before. For He is the self-existent I Am; who needs nought save Himself, and who needs nought save to assert Himself in His Word, Jesus Christ our Lord, and say "I Am," in order to create all things and beings, save Himself. He is the infinite; whom nothing, however huge, and vast, or strong, can comprehend--that is, take in and limit. He takes in and limits all things; giving to each thing, form according to its own kind, and life and growth according to its own law; appointing to all (as says St Paul) their times, and the bounds of their habitation; that if they be rational creatures, as we are, they may feel after the Lord and find Him; and if they be irrational creatures, like the animals and the plants, mountains and streams, clouds and tempests, sun and stars, they may serve God's gracious purposes in the economy of His world. Therefore, everything which you see, is, as it were, a thought of God's, an action of God's; a message to you from God. Therefore you can look at nothing in the earth without seeing God Himself at work thereon. As our Lord said, "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work." You can look neither at the sun in the sky, nor at the grass beneath your feet, without being brought face to face with God, the ever blessed Trinity. The tiniest gnat which dances in the sun, was conceived by God the Father, in whose eternal bosom are the ideas and patterns of all things, past, present, and to come; it was created by God the Son, by whom the Father made all things, and without whom nothing is made: and it is kept alive by God the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life, of whom it is written, "Thou sendest forth thy Spirit, they are created; and thou renewest the face of the earth." Oh that we could all remember this. That when we walk across the field, or look out into the garden, we could have the wisdom to remember, Whither, O God, can I go from Thy presence? For Thou art looking down on the opening of every bud and flower, and without Thee not a sparrow falls to the ground. Whither can I flee from Thy Spirit? For Thy Spirit is giving life perpetually, alike to me and to the insect at my feet; without Thy Spirit my lungs could not breathe one breath, my heart could not beat one pulse. In Thee, I and all things live, move, and have our being. And shall I forget Thee, disobey Thee, neglect to praise, and honour, and worship Thee, and thank Thee day and night, for Thy great glory? If we could but remember that, there would be no fear of our being ungodly, irreligious, undevout. We look too often, day after day, month after month, on the world around us just as the dumb beasts do, as a place out of which we can get something to eat, and forget that it is also a place out of which we can get, daily and hourly, something to admire, to adore, to worship, even the thought of God's wisdom, God's power, God's goodness, God's glory. Oh blind and heedless that we are. Truly said the wise man--"An undevout astronomer is mad." And truly said another wise man, an Englishman--the saintly philosopher Faraday, now with God,--"How could he be otherwise than religious; when at every step he found himself brought more closely face to face with the signs of a mind constructed like his own, with an aim and a purpose which he could understand, employing ways and means, and tending clearly to an end, and methodically following out a system which he could both perceive and grasp." Such a man's whole life is one act of reverence to that God in whose inner presence he finds himself illuminated and strengthened; and if there be revelation of divine things on earth, it is when the hidden secrets of nature are disclosed to the sincere and self-denying seeker after truth. Yes, that is true. The more you look into the world around you, and consider every flower, and bird, and stone, the more you will see that a Mind planned them, even the mind of God; a Mind like yours and mine; but how infinitely different, how much deeper, wiser, vaster. Before that thought we shrink into the nothingness from whence He called us out at first. The difference between our minds and the Mind of God is--to what shall I liken it? Say, to the difference between a flake of soot and a mountain of pure diamond. That soot and that diamond are actually the same substance; of that there is no doubt whatsoever; but as the light, dirty, almost useless soot is to the pure, and clear, hard diamond, ay, to a mountain, a world, a whole universe made of pure diamond--if such a thing were possible--so is the mind of man compared with that Mind of the ever blessed Trinity, which made the worlds, and sustains them in life and order to this day. My friends, it is not in great things only, but in the very smallest, that the greatest glory of the ever blessed Trinity is seen. Ay, most, perhaps, in the smallest, when one considers the utterly inconceivable wisdom, which can make the smallest animal--so made as to be almost invisible under the strongest microscope--as perfect in all its organs as the hugest elephant. Ay, more, which can not only make these tiny living things, but, more wonderful still, make them make themselves? For what is growth, but a thing making itself? What is the seed growing into a plant, the plant into a flower, the flower to a seed again, but that thing making itself, transforming itself, by an inward law of life which God's Spirit gives it. I tell you the more earnestly and carefully you examine into the creation, birth, growth of any living thing, even of the daisy on the grass outside; the more you inquire what it really is, how it came to be like what it is, how it got where it is, and so forth; you will be led away into questions which may well make you dizzy with thinking, so strange, so vast, so truly miraculous is the history of every organised creature upon earth. And when you recollect (as you are bound to do on this day), that each of these things is the work of the ever blessed Trinity; that upon every flower and every insect, generation after generation of them, since the world was made, the ever blessed Trinity has been at work, God the Father thinking and conceiving each thing, in His eternal Mind, God the Son creating it and putting it into the world, each thing according to the law of its life, God the Holy Ghost inspiring it with life and law, that it may grow and thrive after its kind--when such thoughts as these crowd upon you, and they ought to crowd upon you, this day of all the year, at sight of the meanest insect under your feet; then what can a rational man do, but bow his head and worship in awful silence, adoring humbly Him who sits upon the throne of the universe, and who says to us in all His works, even as He said to Job of old, "Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea? or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow of death? Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven? Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, that abundance of waters may cover thee? Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go, and say unto thee, Here we are? Wilt thou hunt the prey for the lion? or fill the appetite of the young lions? Gavest thou the goodly wings unto the peacocks? or wings and feathers unto the ostrich? Hast thou given the horse strength? hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Doth the hawk fly by thy wisdom? doth the eagle mount up at thy command?" When God speaks thus to us--and He does thus speak to us, by every cloud and shower, and by every lightning flash and ray of sunshine, and by every living thing which flies in air, or swims in water, or creeps upon the earth--what can we say, save what Job said--"Behold, I am vile; what shall I answer thee? I will lay mine hand upon my mouth." But if God be so awful in the material world, of which our five senses tell us, how much more awful is He in that spiritual and moral world, of which our senses tell us nought? That unseen world of justice and truthfulness, of honour and duty, of reverence and loyalty, of love and charity, of purity and self-sacrifice; that spiritual world, I say, which can be only seen by the spiritual eye of the soul, and felt by the spiritual heart of the soul? How awful is God in that eternal world of right and wrong; wherein cherubim, seraphim, angel and archangel cry to Him for ever, not merely Mighty, mighty, mighty, but "Holy, holy, holy." How awful to poor creatures like us. For then comes in the question--not merely is God good? but, am not I bad? Is God sinless? but, am not I a sinner? Is God pure? but am not I impure? Is God wise? then am not I a fool? And when once that thought has crossed our minds, must we not tremble, must we not say with Isaiah of old, "Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts." Yes; awful as is the thought of God's perfection in the material world about us, more awful still is the thought of His perfection in the spiritual world. So awful, that we might well be overwhelmed with dread and horror at the sight of God's righteousness and our sinfulness; were it not for the gracious message of revelation that tells us, that God, the Father of heaven, is OUR Father likewise, who so loved us that He gave for us His only begotten, God the Son; that for His sake our sins might be freely forgiven us; that God the Son is our Atonement, our Redeemer, our King, our Intercessor, our Example, our Saviour in life and death; and God the Holy Ghost, our Comforter, our Guide, our Inspirer, who will give to our souls the eternal life which will never perish, even as He gives to our bodies the mortal life which must perish. On the mercy and the love of the ever blessed Trinity, shown forth in Christ upon His cross, we can cast ourselves with all our sins; we can cry to Him, and not in vain, for forgiveness and for sanctification; for a clean heart and a right spirit; and that we may become holy and humble men of heart. We can join our feeble praises to that hymn of praise which goes up for ever to God from suns and stars, clouds and showers, beasts and birds, and every living thing, giving Him thanks for ever for His great glory. O all ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord; praise Him and magnify Him for ever. O ye holy and humble Men of heart, bless ye the Lord; praise Him and magnify Him for ever. SERMON XVII. LOVE OF GOD AND MAN FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Eversley. Chester Cathedral, 1872. 1 John iv. 16, 21. "God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. . . . And this commandment have we from Him, That he who loveth God love his brother also." This is the first Sunday after Trinity. On it the Church begins to teach us morals,--that is, how to live a good life; and therefore she begins by teaching us the foundation of all morals,--which is love,--love to God and love to man. But which is to come first,--love to God, or love to man? On this point men in different ages have differed, and will differ to the end. One party has said, You must love God first, and let love to man come after as it can; and others have contradicted that and said, You must love all mankind, and let love to God take its chance. But St John says, neither of the two is before or after the other; you cannot truly love God without loving man, or love man without loving God. St John says so, being full of the Spirit of God: but alas! men, who are not full of the Spirit of God, but only let themselves be taught by Him now and then and here and there, have found it very difficult to understand St John, and still more difficult to obey him; and therefore there always have been in God's Church these two parties; one saying, You must love God first, and the other, You must love your neighbour first,--and each, of course, quoting Scripture to prove that they are in the right. The great leader of the first party--perhaps the founder of it, as far as I am aware--was the famous St Augustine. He first taught Christians that they ought to love God with the same passionate affection with which they love husband or wife, mother or child; and to use towards God the same words of affection which those who love really utter one to each other. I will not say much of that; still less will I mention any of the words which good men and women who are of that way of thinking use towards God. I should be sorry to hold up such language to blame, even if I do not agree with it; and still more sorry to hold it up to ridicule from vulgar-minded persons if there be any in this Church. All I say is, that all which has been written since about this passionate and rapturous love toward God by the old monks and nuns, and by the Protestant Pietists, both English and foreign, is all in St Augustine better said than it ever has been since. Some of the Pietist hymns, as we know, are very beautiful; but there are things in them which one wishes left out; which seem, or ought to seem, irreverent when used toward God; which hurt, or ought to hurt, our plain, cool, honest English common-sense. A true Englishman does not like to say more than he feels; and the more he feels, the more he likes to keep it to himself, instead of parading it and talking of it before men. Still waters run deep, he holds; and he is right for himself; only he must not judge others, or think that because he cannot speak to God in such passionate language as St Augustine, who was an African, a southern man, with much stronger feelings than we Englishmen usually have, that therefore St Augustine, or those who copy him now, do not really feel what they say. But, nevertheless, plain common-sense people, such as most Englishmen are, are afraid of this enthusiastical religion. They say, We do not pretend to feel this rapturous love to God, how much-soever we may reverence Him, and wish to keep His commandments; and we do not desire to feel it. For we see that people who have talked in this way about God have been almost always monks and nuns; or brain-sick, disappointed persons, who have no natural and wholesome bent for their affections. And even though this kind of religion may be very well for them, it is not the religion for a plain honest man who has a wife and family and his bread to earn in the world, and has children to provide for, and his duty to do in the State as well as in the Church. And more, they say, these enthusiastic, rapturous feelings do not seem to make people better, and more charitable, and more loving. Some really good and charitable people say that they have these feelings, but for all that we can see they would be just as good and charitable without the feelings, while most persons who take up with this sort of religion are not the better for it. They do not control their tempers; they can be full,--as they say,--of love and devotion to God one minute, but why are they the next minute peevish, proud, self-willed, harsh and cruel to those who differ from them? Their religion does not make them love their neighbours. In old times (when persecution was allowed), it made them, or at least allowed them, to persecute, torment, and kill their neighbours, and fancy that by such conduct they did God service; and now it tempts them to despise their neighbours--to look on every one who has not these strange, intense feelings which they say they have, as unconverted, and lost, and doomed to everlasting destruction. Not, says the plain man, that we are more satisfied with the mere philanthropist of modern times,--the man who professes to love the whole human race without loving God, or indeed often believing that there is a God to love. To us he seems as unloving a person as the mere fanatic. Meanwhile, plain people say, we will have nothing to do with either fanaticism or philanthropy,--we will try to do our duty where God has put us, and to behave justly and charitably by our neighbours; but beyond that we cannot go. We will not pretend to what we do not feel. My friends, there is, as usual, truth on both sides,--both are partly right, and both are partly wrong. And both may go on arguing against each other, and quoting texts of Scripture against each other till the last day; if they will not listen to St John's message in the text. One party will say, It is written, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and soul, and strength, and mind; and if thou doest that, and thy soul is filled with love for the Creator, thou canst have no love left for the creature; or if thy heart is filled with love for the creature, there is no room left for love to God. And then thou wilt find that God is a jealous God, and will take from thee what thou lovest, because He will not have His honour given to another. And to that the other party will answer, Has not God said, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself?" Has He not commanded us to love our wives, our children? And even if He had not, would not common sense tell us that He intended us to do so? Do you think that God is a tempter and a deceiver? He has given us feelings and powers. Has He not meant us to use them? He has given us wife and child. Did He mean us not to love them, after He has made us love them, we know not how or why? You say that God is a jealous God. Yes, jealous He may be of our worshipping false gods, and idols, saints, or anything or person save Himself,-- jealous of our doing wrong, and ruining ourselves, and wandering out of the path of His commandments, in which alone is life; but jealous of our loving our fellow creature as well as Himself, never. That sort of jealousy is a base and wicked passion in man, and dare we attribute it to God? What a thing to say of the loving God, that He takes away people's children, husbands, and friends, because they love them too much! Then the first party will say, But is it not written, "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him?" And to that, the second party will answer, And do you say that we are not to love this fair and wonderful earth which God has made for our use, and put us into it? Why did He make it lovely? Why did He put us into it, if He did not mean us to enjoy it? That is contrary to common sense, and contrary to the whole teaching of the Old Testament. But if by the world you mean the world of man, the society in which we live--dare you compare a Christian and civilized country like England with that detestable Roman world, sunk in all abominable vices, against which St John and St Paul prophesied? Are not such thoughts unjust and uncharitable to your neighbours, to your country, to all mankind? Then the first party will say, But you do away with all devoutness; and the second party will answer, And you do away with all morality, for you tell people that the only way to please God is to feel about Him in a way which not one person in a thousand can feel; and therefore what will come, and does come, of your binding heavy burdens and grievous to be borne and laying them on men's shoulders is this,--that the generality of people will care nothing about being good or doing right, because you teach them that it will not please God, and will leave all religion to a few who have these peculiar fancies and feelings. And so they may argue on for ever, unless they will take honestly the plain words of St John, and see that to love their neighbour is to love God, and to love God is to love their neighbour. So says St John clearly enough twice over. "God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him." The two things are one, and the one cannot be without the other. Does this seem strange to you? Oh, my friends, it need not seem strange, if you will but consider who God is, and who man is. Thou lovest God? Then, if thou lovest Him, thou must needs love all that He has made. And what has He made? All things, except sin; and what sin is He has told thee. He has given thee ten commandments, and let no man give thee an eleventh commandment out of his own conceit and will worship; calling unclean what God hath made clean, and cursing what God hath blessed. Thou lovest God? Then thou lovest all that is good; for God is good, and from Him all good things come. But what is good? All is good except sin; for it is written, "God saw every thing that He had made, and, behold, it was very good." Therefore, if thou lovest God, thou must love all things, for all things are of Him, and by Him, and through Him; and in Him all live and move and have their being. Then thou wilt truly love God. Thou wilt be content with God; and so thy love will cast out fear. Thou wilt trust God; thou wilt have the mind of God; thou wilt be satisfied with God's working, from the rise and fall of great nations to the life and death of the smallest gnat which dances in the sun; thou wilt say for ever, and concerning all things, I know in whom I have believed. It is the good Lord, let Him do what seemeth Him good. Again. Thou lovest thy neighbour; thou lovest wife and child; thou lovest thy friends; thou lovest or wishest to love all men, and to do them good. Then thou lovest God. For what is it that thou lovest in thy neighbour? Not that which is bad in him? No, but that which is good. Thou lovest him for his kindliness, his honesty, his helpfulness,--for some good quality in him. But from whom does that good come, save from Christ and from the Spirit of Christ, from whom alone come all good gifts? Yes, if you will receive it;--when we love our neighbours, it is God in them, Christ in them, whom we love,--Christ in them, the hope of glory. What, some one will ask, when a man loves a fair face, does he love Christ then? Ah! my friends, that is not true love, as all know well enough if they will let their own hearts tell them truth. True love is when two people love each other for the goodness which is in them. True love is the love which endures after beauty has faded, and youth, and health, and all that seems to make life worth having is gone. Have we not seen ere now two old people, worn, crippled, diseased, yet living on together, helping each other, nursing each other, tottering on hand in hand to the grave, dying, perhaps, almost together,--because neither cared to live when the other is gone before, and loving all the while as truly and tenderly as in the days of youth? They know not why. No; but God knows why. It is Christ in each other whom they love;--Christ, the hope of glory. Yes, we have seen that, surely; and seen in it one of the most beautiful, the most divine sights upon earth,--one which should teach us, if we will look at it aright, that when we love our neighbour truly, it is the divine part in him, the spark of eternal goodness in him,--what St Paul says is Christ in him,--which we admire, and cling to, and love. But by that rule we cannot love every one, for every one is not good. Be not too sure of that. All are not good, alas! but in all there is some good. It may be a very little,--a hope of glory in them, even though that hope be very faint. It may be dying out; it may die altogether, and their souls may become utterly base and evil, and be lost for ever. Still, while there is life there is hope, even for the worst; and just as far as our hearts are full of the Spirit of God, we shall see the Spirit of God striving with the souls even of the worst men, and love them for that. Just as far as we have the likeness of Christ in us, we shall be quick to catch the least gleam of His likeness in our neighbours, and love them for that. Just as far as our hearts are full of love we shall see something worth loving in every human being we meet, and love them for that. I know it is difficult. It is not gotten in a day, that wide and deep spirit of love to all mankind which St Paul had; which made him weep with those who wept and rejoice with those who rejoiced, and become all things to all men, if by any means he might save some. Before our eyes are cleansed and purged to see some trace of good in every man, our hearts must be cleansed and purged from all selfishness, and bigotry, and pride, and fancifulness, and anger, so that they may be filled with the loving Spirit of God. As long as a taint of selfishness or pride remains in us, we shall be in continual danger of hating those whom God does not hate, despising those whom God does not despise, and condemning those whom God does not condemn. But if self is cast out of us, and the Spirit of God and of Christ enthroned in our hearts, then we shall love our brother, and in loving him love God, who made him; and so, dwelling in love, we shall dwell in God, and God in us:--to which true and only everlasting life may He of His mercy bring us, either in this world or in the world to come. Amen. SERMON XVIII. COURAGE Chester Cathedral, 1871. Acts iv. 13, 18-20. "Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were unlearned and ignorant men, they marvelled; and they took knowledge of them, that they had been with Jesus. . . . And they called them, and commanded them not to speak at all nor teach in the name of Jesus. But Peter and John answered and said unto them, Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye. For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard." Last Thursday was St Peter's Day. The congregation on that day was, as far as I could perceive, no larger than usual; and this is not a matter of surprise. Since we gave up at the Reformation the superstitious practice of praying to the saints, saints' days have sunk--and indeed sunk too much--into neglect. For most men's religion has a touch of self-interest in it; and therefore when people discovered that they could get nothing out of St Peter or St John by praying to them, they began to forget the very memory, many of them, of St Peter, St John, and other saints and apostles. They forget, too often, still, that though praying to any saint, or angel, or other created being, is contrary both to reason and to Scripture; yet it is according to reason and to Scripture to commemorate them. That is to remember them, to study their characters, and to thank God for them--both for the virtues which He bestowed on them, and the example which He has given us in them. For these old saints lived and died for our example. They are, next of course to the Lord Himself, the ideals, the patterns, of Christian life-- the primeval heroes of our holy faith. They shew to us of what stuff the early Christians were made; what sort of stone--to use St Paul's own figure,--the Lord chose wherewith to build up His Church. They are our spiritual ancestors, for they spread the Gospel into all lands; and they spread it, remember always, not only by preaching what they knew, but by being what they were. Their characters, their personal histories, are as important to us as their writings; nay, in the case of St Peter, even more important. For if these two epistles of his had been lost, and never handed down to us, St Peter himself would have remained, as he is drawn in the Gospels and the Acts, a grand and colossal human figure, every line and feature of which is full of meaning and full of teaching to us. Now I think that the quality--the grace of God--which St Peter's character and story specially force on our notice, is, the true courage which comes by faith. I say, the courage which comes by faith. There is a courage which does not come by faith. There is brute courage, which comes from hardness of heart, from stupidity, obstinacy, or anger, which does not see danger, or does not feel pain. That is the courage of the brute. One does not blame it, or call it wrong. It is good in its place, as all natural things are, which God has made. It is good enough for the brutes, but it is not good enough for man. You cannot trust it in man. And the more a man is what a man should be, the less he can trust it. The more mind and understanding a man has, so as to be able to foresee danger, and measure it, the more chance there is of his brute courage giving way. The more feeling a man has, the more keenly he feels pain of body, or pain of mind, such as shame, loneliness, the dislike, ridicule, and contempt of his fellow men; in a word, the more of a man he is, and the less of a mere brute, the more chance there is of his brute courage breaking down, just when he wants it most to keep him up, by leaving him to play the coward and come to shame. Yes. To go through with a difficult and dangerous undertaking, a man wants more than brute courage. He wants spiritual courage--the courage which comes by faith. He needs to have faith in what he is doing; to be certain that he is doing his duty, to be certain that he is in the right. Certain that right will conquer, certain that God will make it conquer, by him or by some one else; certain that he will either conquer honourably, or fail honourably, for God is with him. In a word, to have true courage, man needs faith in God. To give one example. Look at the class of men who, in all England, undergo the most fearful dangers; who know not at what hour of any night they may not be called up to the most serious labour and responsibility, with the chance of a horrible and torturing death. I mean the firemen of our great cities, than whom there are no steadier, braver, nobler-hearted men. Not a week passes without one or more of these firemen, in trying to save life and property, doing things which are altogether heroic. What do you fancy keeps them up to their work? High pay? The amusement and excitement of fires? The vanity of being praised for their courage? My friends, those would be but paltry weak motives, which would not keep a man's heart calm and his head clear under such responsibility and danger as theirs. No. It is the sense of duty,--the knowledge that they are doing a good and a noble work in saving the lives of human beings and the wealth of the nation,--the knowledge that they are in God's hands, and that no real evil can happen to him who is doing right,--that to him even death at his post is not a loss, but a gain. In short, faith in God, more or less clear, is what gives those men their strong and quiet courage. God grant that you and I, if ever we have dangerous work to do, may get true courage from the same fountain of ghostly strength. Now, St Peter's history is, I think, a special example of this. He was naturally, it seems, a daring man,--a man of great brute courage. So far so good; but he had to be taught, by severe lessons, that his brute courage was not enough,--that he wanted spiritual courage, the courage which came by faith, and that if that failed him, the brute courage would fail too. He throws himself into the lake, to walk upon the water to Christ; and as soon as he is afraid he begins to sink. The Lord saves him, and tells him why he had sank. Because he had doubted, his faith had failed him. So he found out the weakness of courage without faith. Then, again, he tells our Lord, "Though all men shall be offended of Thee, yet will I never be offended. I am ready to go with Thee both into prison, and to death." And shortly after, his mere animal courage breaks out again, and does what little it can do, and little enough. He draws sword, single- handed, on the soldiers in the garden, and cuts down a servant of the high priest's, and perhaps would have flung his life away, desperately and uselessly, had not our Lord restrained him. But when the fit of excitement is past, his animal courage deserts him, and his moral courage too, and he denies his Lord. So he found out that he was like too many,- -full of bodily courage, perhaps, but morally weak. He had to undergo a great change. He had to be converted by the Holy Spirit of God, and strengthened by that Spirit, to have a boldness which no worldly courage can give. Then, when he was strong himself, he was able to strengthen his brethren. Then he was able, ignorant and unlearned man as he was, to stand up before the high priests and rulers of his nation, and to say, simply and firmly, without boasting, without defiance, "Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye. For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard." Yes, my friends, it is the courage which comes by faith which makes truly brave men,--men like St Peter and St John. He who can say, I am right, can say likewise, God is on my side, and I will not fear what man can do to me. "We will not fear," said the Psalmist, "though the earth be removed, and though the hills be carried into the midst of the sea." "The just man, who holds firm to his purpose," says a wise old heathen, "he will not be shaken from his solid mind by the rage of the mob bidding him do base things or the frowns of the tyrant who persecutes him. Though the world were to crumble to pieces round him, its ruins would strike him without making him tremble." "Whether it be right," said Peter and John to the great men and judges of the Jews, "to hearken to God more than to you, judge ye. We cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard." We cannot but speak what we know to be true. It was that courage which enabled our forefathers,--and not the great men among them, not the rich, not even the learned, save a few valiant bishops and clergy, but for the most part poor, unlearned, labouring men and women,--to throw off the yoke of Popery, and say, "Reason and Scripture tell us that it is absurd and wrong to worship images and pray to saints,--tell us that your doctrines are not true. And we will say so in spite of the Pope and all his power,--in spite of torture and a fiery death. We cannot palter; we cannot dissemble; we cannot shelter ourselves under half-truths, and make a covenant with lies. 'Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than to God, judge ye. We cannot but speak the things which we know to be true.'" So it has been in all ages, and so it will be for ever. Faith, the certainty that a man is right, will give him a courage which will enable him to resist, if need be, the rich ones, the strong ones, the learned ones of the earth. It has made poor unlearned men heroes and deliverers of their countrymen from slavery and ignorance. It has made weak women martyrs and saints. It has enabled men who made great discoveries to face unbelief, ridicule, neglect, poverty; knowing that their worth would be acknowledged at last, their names honoured at last as benefactors by the very men who laughed at them and reviled them. It has made men, shut up in prison for long weary years for doing what was right and saying what was true, endure manfully for the sake of some good cause, and say,- - "Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage. If I have freedom in my thought, And in my love am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty." Yes; settle it in your hearts, all of you. There is but one thing which you have to fear in earth or heaven,--being untrue to your better selves, and therefore untrue to God. If you will not do the thing you know to be right, and say the thing you know to be true, then indeed you are weak. You are a coward, and sin against God, and suffer the penalty of your cowardice. You desert God, and therefore you cannot expect Him to stand by you. But if you will do the thing you know to be right, and say the thing you know to be true, then what can harm you? Who will harm you, asks St Peter himself, "if you be followers of that which is good? For the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and His ears are open to their prayers. But if ye suffer for righteousness' sake, happy are ye; and be not afraid of those who try to terrify you, neither be troubled, but sanctify the Lord God in your hearts. Remember that He is just and holy, and a rewarder of all who diligently seek Him. Worship Him in your hearts, and all will be well. For says David again, "Lord, who shall dwell in Thy tabernacle, or who shall rest upon Thy holy hill? Even he that leadeth an uncorrupt life, and doeth the thing which is right, and speaketh the truth from his heart. Whoso doeth these things shall never fall." Yes, my friends; there is a tabernacle of God in which, even in this life, He will hide us from the strife of tongues. There is a hill of God on which, even in the midst of labour and anxiety, we may rest both day and night. Even Jesus Christ, the Rock of Ages,--He who is the Righteousness itself, the Truth itself; and whosoever does righteousness and speaks truth dwells in Christ in this life, as well as in the life to come; and Christ will strengthen him by His Holy Spirit to stand in the evil day, if it shall come, and having done all, to stand. My dear friends, if any of you are minded to be good men and women, pray for the Holy Spirit of God. First for the spirit of love to give you good desires; then the spirit of faith, to make you believe deeply in the living God, who rewards every man according to his work; and then for the spirit of strength, to enable you to bring these desires to good effect. Pray for that spirit, I say; for we all need help. There are too many people in the world--too many, perhaps, among us here--who are not what they ought to be, and what they really wish to be, because they are weak. They see what is right, and admire it; but they have not courage or determination to do it. Most sad and pitiable it is to see how much weakness of heart there is in the world--how little true moral courage. I suppose that the reason is, that there is so little faith; that people do not believe heartily and deeply enough in the absolute necessity of doing right and being honest. They do not believe heartily and deeply enough in God to trust Him to defend and reward them, if they will but be true to Him, and to themselves. And therefore they have no moral courage. They are weak. They are kind, perhaps, and easy; easily led right; but, alas! just as easily led wrong. Their good resolutions are not carried out; their right doctrines not acted up to; and they live pitiful, confused, useless, inconsistent lives; talking about religion, and yet denying the power of religion in their daily lives; playing with holy and noble thoughts and feelings, without giving themselves up to them in earnest, to be led by the Spirit of God, to do all the good works which God has prepared for them to walk in. Pray all of you, then, for the spirit of faith, to believe really in God; and for the spirit of ghostly strength, to obey God honestly. No man ever asked earnestly for that spirit but what he gained it at last. And no man ever gained it but what he found the truth of St Peter's own words, "Who will harm you if ye be followers of that which is good?" SERMON XIX. GOOD DAYS Eversley, 1867. Westminster, Sept. 27, 1872. 1 Peter iii. 8-12. "Be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous: Not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing: but contrariwise blessing; knowing that ye are thereunto called, that ye should inherit a blessing. For he that will love life and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile: Let him eschew evil, and do good; let him seek peace, and ensue it. For the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and His ears are open unto their prayers: but the face of the Lord is against them that do evil." This is one of the texts which is apt to puzzle people who do not read their Bibles carefully enough. They cannot see what the latter part of it has to do with the former. St. Peter says that we Christians are called that we should inherit a blessing. That means, of course, they say, the blessing of salvation, everlasting life in heaven. But then St. Peter quotes from the 34th Psalm. "For he that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile." Now that Psalm, they say, speaks of blessing and happiness in this life. Then why does St. Peter give it as a reason for expecting blessing and happiness in the life to come? And then, they say, to make it fit in, it must be understood spiritually; and what they mean by that, I do not clearly know. Their notion is, that the promises of the Old Testament are more or less carnal, because they speak of God's rewarding men in this life; and that the promises of the New Testament are spiritual, because they speak of God's rewarding men in the next life; and what they mean by that, again, I do not clearly know. For is not the Old Testament spiritual as well as the New? I trust so, my friends. Is not the Old Testament inspired, and that by the Spirit of God? and if it be inspired by the Spirit, what can it be but spiritual? Therefore, if we want to find the spiritual meaning of Old Testament promises, we need not to alter them to suit any fancies of our own; like those monks of the fourth and succeeding centuries, who saw no sanctity in family or national life; no sanctity in the natural world, and, therefore, were forced to travesty the Hebrew historians, psalmists, and prophets, with all their simple, healthy objective humanity, and politics, and poetry, into metaphorical and subjective, or, as they miscalled them, spiritual meanings, to make the Old Testament mean anything at all. No; if we have any real reverence for the Holy Scriptures, we must take them word for word in their plain meaning, and find the message of God's Spirit in that plain meaning, instead of trying to put it in for ourselves. Therefore it is that the VII. Article bids us beware of playing with Scripture in this way. It says the Old Testament is not contrary to the New, for both in the Old and New Testament everlasting life is offered to mankind by Christ. Wherefore they are not to be heard who feign that the old fathers did look only for transitory promises, that is temporary promises, promises which would be fulfilled only in this life, and end and pass away when they died. But some one will say, how can that be, when so many of the old Hebrews seem to have known nothing about the next life? Moses, for instance, always promises the Children of Israel that if they do right, and obey God, they shall be rewarded in this life, with peace and prosperity, fruitfulness and wealth; but of their being rewarded in the next life he never says one word--which last statement is undeniably true. Is not then the Old Testament contrary to the New, if the Old Testament teaches men to look for their reward in this life, and the New Testament in the next? No, it is not, my friends. And I think we shall see that it is not, and why it is not, if we will look honestly at this very important text. If we do that we shall see that what St. Peter meant-- what the VII. Article means is the only meaning which will make sense of either one or the other; is simply this--that what causes a man to enjoy this life, is the same that will cause him to enjoy the life to come. That what will bring a blessing on him in this life, will bring a blessing on him in the life to come. That what blessed the old Jews, will bless us Christians. That if we refrain our tongue from evil, and our lips from speaking deceit; it we avoid evil and do good; if we seek peace and follow earnestly after it; then shall we enjoy life, and see good days, and inherit a blessing; whether in this life or in the life to come. And why? Because then we shall be living the one and only everlasting life of goodness, which alone brings blessings; alone gives good days; and is the only life worth living, whether in earth or heaven. My dear friends, lay this seriously to heart, in these days especially, when people and preachers alike have taken to part earth and heaven, in a fashion which we never find in Holy Scripture. Lay it to heart, I say, and believe that what is right, and therefore good, for the next life, is right, and therefore good, for this. That the next life is not contrary to this life. That the same moral laws hold good in heaven, as on earth. Mark this well; for it must be so, if morality, that is right and goodness, is of the eternal and immutable essence of God. And therefore, mark this well again, there is but one true, real, and right life for rational beings, one only life worth living, and worth living in this world or in any other life, past, present, or to come. And that is the eternal life which was before all worlds, and will be after all are passed away--and that is neither more nor less than a good life; a life of good feelings, good thoughts, good words, good deeds, the life of Christ and of God. It is needful, I say, to bear this in mind just now. People are, as I told you, too apt to say that the Old Testament saints got their rewards in this life, while we shall get them in the next. Do they find that in Scripture? If they will read their Bible they will find that the Old Testament saints were men whom God was training and educating, as He does us, by experience and by suffering. That David, so far from having his reward at once in this life, had his bitter sorrows and trials; that Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Job, all, indeed, of the old prophets, had to be made perfect by suffering, and (as St. Paul says) died in faith NOT having received the promises. So that if they had their reward in this life, it must have been a spiritual reward, the reward of a good conscience, and of the favour of Almighty God. And that is no transitory or passing reward, but enduring as immortality itself. But people do not usually care for that spiritual reward. Their notion of reward and happiness is that they are to have all sorts of pleasures, they know not what, and know not really why. And because they cannot get pleasant things enough to satisfy them in this life, they look forward greedily to getting them in the next life; and meanwhile are discontented with God's Providence, and talk of God's good world as if some fiend and not the Lord Jesus Christ was the maker and ruler thereof. Do not misunderstand me. I am no optimist. I know well that things happen in this world which must, which ought to make us sad--so sad that at moments we envy the dead, who are gone home to their rest; real tragedies, real griefs, divine and Christlike griefs, which only loving hearts know--the suffering of those we love, the loss of those we love, and, last and worst, the sin of those we love. Ah! if any of those swords have pierced the heart of any soul here, shall I blame that man, that woman, if they cry at times, "Father, take me home, this earth is no place for me." Shall I bid them do aught but cling to the feet of Christ and cry, "If it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt." Oh, not of such do I speak; not of such sharers of Christ's unselfish suffering here, that they may be sharers of His unselfish joy hereafter. Not of them do I speak; but of those who only wish to make up for selfish discomforts and disappointments in this life by selfish comforts and satisfaction in the next; and who therefore take up (let me use the honest English word) some maundering form of religion, which, to judge from their own conduct, they usually only half believe; those who seem, on six days of the week, as fond of finery and frivolity as any other gay worldlings, and on the seventh join eagerly in hymns in which (in one case at least) they inform the Almighty God of truth, who will not be mocked, that they lie awake at night, weeping because they cannot die and see "Jerusalem the golden," and so forth. Or those, again, who for six days in the week are absorbed in making money-- honestly if they can, no doubt, but still making money, and living luxuriously on their profits--and on the seventh listen with satisfaction to preachers and hymns which tell them that this world is all a howling wilderness, full of snares and pitfalls; and that in this wretched place the Christian can expect nothing but tribulation and persecution till he "crosses Jordan, and is landed safe on Canaan's store," and so forth. My friends, my friends, as long as a man talks so, blaspheming God's world--which, when He made it, behold it was all very good--and laying the blame of their own ignorance and peevishness on God who made them, they must expect nothing but tribulation and sorrow. But the tribulation and the sorrow will be their own fault, and not God's. If religious professors will not take St. Peter's advice and the Psalmist's advice; if they will go on coveting and scheming about money, and how they may get money; if they will go on being neither pitiful, courteous, nor forgiving, and hating and maligning whether it be those who differ from them in doctrine, or those who they fancy have injured them, or those who merely are their rivals in the race of life; then they are but too likely to find this world a thorny place, because they themselves raise the thorns; and a disorderly place, because their own tempers and desires are disorderly; and a wilderness, because they themselves have run wild, barbarians at heart, however civilised in dress and outward manners. St. James tells them that of old. "From whence," he says, "come wars and quarrels among you? Come they not hence, even of the lusts which war in your members? You long, and have not. You fight and war, yet you have not, because you ask not. You ask, and have not. You pray for this and that, and God does not give it you. Because you ask amiss, selfishly to consume it on your lusts." And then you say, This world is an evil place, full of temptations. What says St. James to that? "Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth He any man. But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed." So it was in the Old Testament times, and so it is in these Christian times. God is good, and God's world is good; and the evil is not in the world around us, but in our own foolish hearts. If we follow our own foolish hearts, we shall find this world a bad place, as the old Jews found it--whenever they went wrong and sinned against God--because we are breaking its laws, and they will punish us. If we follow the commandments of God, we shall find this world a good place, as the old Jews found it--whenever they went right, and obeyed God--because we shall be obeying its laws, and they will reward us. This is God's promise alike to the old Jewish fathers and to us Christian men. And this is no transitory or passing promise, but is founded on the eternal and everlasting law of right, by which God has made all worlds, and which He Himself cannot alter, for it springs out of His own essence and His own eternal being. Hear, then, the conclusion of the whole matter: God hath called you that you might inherit a blessing. He hath made you of a blessed race, created in His own likeness, to whom He hath put all things in subjection, making man a little lower than the angels, that He might crown him with glory and worship: a race so precious in God's eyes--we know not why--that when mankind had fallen, and seemed ready to perish from their own sin and ignorance, God spared not His only begotten Son, but freely gave Him for us, that the world by Him might be saved. And God hath put you in a blessed place, even His wondrous and fruitful world, which praises God day and night, fulfilling His word; for it continues this day as in the beginning, and He has given it a law which cannot be broken. He has made you citizens of a blessed kingdom, even the kingdom of heaven, into which you were baptised; and has given you the Holy Bible, that you might learn the laws of the kingdom, and live for ever, blessing and blest. And the Head of this blessed race, the Maker of this blessed world, the King of this blessed kingdom, is the most blessed of all beings, Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son, both God and man. He has washed you freely from your sins in His own blood; He has poured out on you freely His renewing Spirit. And He asks you to enter into your inheritance; that you may love your life, and see good days, by living the blessed life, which is the life of self-sacrifice. But not such self-sacrifices as too many have fancied who did not believe that mankind was a blessed race, and this earth a blessed place. He does not ask you to give up wife, child, property, or any of the good things of this life. He only asks you to give up that selfishness which will prevent you enjoying wife, child, or property, or anything else in earth, or in heaven either. He asks you not to give up anything which is AROUND you, for that which cometh from without defileth not a man; but to give up something which is within you, for that which cometh from within, that defileth a man. He asks you to give up selfishness and all the evil tempers which that selfishness breeds. To give up the tongue which speaks evil of your fellow-men; and the lips which utter deceit; and the brain which imagines cunning; and the heart which quarrels with your neighbour. To give these up and to seek peace, and pursue it by all means reasonable or honourable; peace with all around you, which comes by having first peace with God; next, peace with your own conscience. This is the peace which passeth understanding; for if you have it, men will not be able to understand why you have it. They will see you at peace when men admire you and praise you, and at peace also when they insult you and injure you; at peace when you are prosperous and thriving, and at peace also when you are poor and desolate. And that inward peace of yours will pass their understanding as it will pass your own understanding also. You will know that God sends you the peace, and sends it you the more the more you pray for it: but how He sends it you will not understand; for it springs out of those inner depths of your being which are beyond the narrow range of consciousness, and is spiritual and a mystery, and comes by the inspiration of the holy Spirit of God. But remember that all your prayers will not get that peace if your heart be tainted with malice and selfishness and covetousness, falsehood and pride and vanity. You must ask God first to root those foul seeds out of your heart, or the seed of His Spirit will not spring up and bear fruit in you to the everlasting life of love and peace and joy in the holy Spirit. But if your heart be purged and cleansed of self, then indeed will the holy Spirit enter in and dwell there; and you will abide in peace, through all the chances and changes of this mortal life, for you will abide in God, who is for ever at peace. And you will inherit a blessing; for you will inherit Christ, your light and your life, who is blessed for ever. And you will love life; for life will be full to you of hope, of work, of duty, of interest, of lessons without number. And you will see good days; for all days will seem good to you, even those which seem to the world bad days of affliction and distress. And so the peace of God will keep you in Jesus Christ, in this life, and in the life to come. Amen. SERMON XX. GRACE Eversley. 1856. St. John i. 16, 17. "Of His fulness have all we received, and grace for grace. For the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." I wish you to mind particularly this word GRACE. You meet it very often in the Bible. You hear often said, The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Now, what does this word grace mean? It is really worth your while to know; for if a man or a woman has not grace, they will be very unhappy people, and very disagreeable people also; a torment to themselves, and a torment to their neighbours also; and if they live without grace, they will live but a poor life; if they die without grace, they will come to a very bad end indeed. What, then, does this word mean? Some of you will answer that grace means God's Holy Spirit, or that it means what God gives to our souls by His Spirit. But what does that mean? What does God's Spirit give us? What is the grace of Jesus Christ like, and how is it the same as the grace of God's Spirit? Now, to know what grace means, we must know what St John and St Paul meant by it, and what the word meant in their time, and what the Ephesians, and Corinthians, and Romans, to whom they wrote, would have understood by this word grace. Now these heathens, to whom the apostles preached, before they heard the gospel, knew that word grace very well indeed, often used it; and saw it written up in their heathen temples all about them. And they meant by it just what we mean, when we talk of a graceful person, or a graceful tree or flower; and what we mean, too, when we say that any one is gracious; that they do things gracefully, and have a great deal of grace in their way of speaking and behaving. We mean by that that they are handsome, agreeable, amiable, pleasant to look at, and talk to, and deal with. And so these heathens meant, before they were Christians. The Romans used to talk about some one called a Grace. The Greeks called her CHARIS; which is exactly the word which St John and St Paul use, and from it come our words charity and charitable. But more; they used to talk of three Graces: they fancied that they were goddesses--spirits of some kind in the shape of beautiful, and amiable, and innocent maidens, who took delight in going about the world and making people happy and amiable like themselves; and they used to make images of these graces, and pray to them to make them lovely, and happy, and agreeable. And painters and statuaries, too, used to pray to these graces, and ask them to put beautiful fancies into their minds, that they might be able to paint beautiful pictures, and carve beautiful statues. So when St Paul or St John talked to these heathens about grace, or Charis (as the Testament calls it), they knew quite well what the apostles meant. Did the apostles, then, believe in these three goddesses? Heaven forbid. They came to teach these heathens to turn from those very vanities, and worship the living-God. And so they told them,--You are quite right in thinking that grace comes from heaven, and is God's gift; that it is God who makes people amiable, cheerful, lovely, and honourable; that it is God who gives happiness and all the joys of life: but which god? Not those three maidens; they are but a dream and fancy. All that is lovely and pleasant in men and women--and our life here, and our everlasting life after death, in this world and in all worlds to come--all comes from Jesus Christ and from Him alone. God has gathered together all things in Him, whether things in heaven or things on earth; and He bestows blessings and graces on all who will ask Him, to each as much as is good for him. He is full of grace--more full of it than all the human beings in the world put together. All the goodness and sweetness, and all the graciousness which you ever saw in all the men and women whom you ever met; all the goodness and sweetness which you ever fancied for yourselves, all put together is not to be compared to Him. For He is the perfect brightness of God's glory, and the express image of God's person; and in Him is gathered together all grace, all goodness, all which makes men or angels good, and lovely, and loving. All is in Him, and He gives it freely to all, said the apostles; we know that He speaks truth, we have seen Him; our eyes saw Him, our hands touched Him, and there was a glory about Him such as there never could be about any other person. A glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. A person whom we could not help loving; could not help admiring; could not help trusting; could not help giving ourselves up to--to live for Him, and if need be, die for Him. And, said the apostles, there was a grace of truth in another of your heathen fancies. You thought that these goddesses, because they were amiable and innocent themselves, liked to make every one amiable, innocent, and happy also. Your conscience, your reason were right there. That is the very nature of grace, not to keep itself to itself, but to spend itself on every one round it, and try to make every one like itself. If a man be good, he will long to make others good; if tender, he will long to make others tender; if gentle, he will long to make others gentle; if cheerful, he will long to make others cheerful; if forgiving, he will long to make others forgiving; if happy, he will long to make others happy. Then said the apostles, only believe that the Lord Jesus Christ, just because He is full of grace, wishes to fill you with grace, ten thousand times better grace than you ever fancied those false goddesses could give you--of His fulness you may all receive, and grace for grace. All the grace of this world comes from Him--health, and youth, and happiness, and all the innocent pleasures of life, and He delights in giving you them. But, over and above that, comes a deeper and nobler grace--spiritual grace, the grace of the immortal soul, which will last on, and make you loving and loveable, pure and true, gracious and generous, honourable and worthy of respect, when the grace of the body is gone, and the eye is grown dim, and the hair is grey, and the limbs, feeble; a grace which will make you gracious in old age, gracious in death, gracious for ever and ever, after the body has crumbled again to its dust. Whatsoever things are honourable, lovely, and of good report; whatsoever tempers of mind make you a comfort to yourselves and all around you; Christ has them all, and He can give you them all, one after the other, till Christ be formed in you, till you come to be perfect men and women, to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ. Come, then, boldly to His throne of grace, to find mercy, and grace to help you in the time of need. This was what the apostles taught the heathen, and their words were true. You may see them come true round you every day. For, my friends, just as far as people pray for Christ's grace, and give themselves up to be led by God's Spirit, they become full of grace themselves, courteous and civil, loving and amiable, true and honourable--a pleasure to themselves and to all round them. While, on the other hand; all rudeness, all ill- temper, all selfishness, all greediness are just so many sins against the grace of Christ, which grieve the Spirit of God, at the same time that they grieve our neighbours for whom Christ died, and cut us off, as long as we give way to them, from the communion of saints. Well would it be for married people, if they would but remember this. Well for them, for their own sake and for their children's. "Heirs together," St Peter says they are, "of the grace of life." Think of those words; for in them lies the true secret of happiness. Not in the mere grace of youth, which pleases the fancy at first; that must soon fade; and then comes, too often, coldness between man and wife; neglect, rudeness, ill-temper, because the grace of life is not there--the grace of the inner life, of the immortal soul, which alone makes life pleasant, even tolerable, to two people who are bound together for better or for worse. But yet, unless St Peter be mistaken, the fault in such sad case is on the man's side. Yes, we must face that truth, we men; and face it like men. If we are unhappy in our marriage it is our own fault. It is the woman who is the weaker, says St Peter, and selfish men are apt to say, "Then it is the woman's fault, if we are not happy." St Peter says exactly the opposite. He says,--Because she is the weaker you are the stronger; and therefore it is your fault if she is not what she should be; for you are able to help her, and lead her; you took her to your heart for that very purpose, you swore to cherish her. Because she is the weaker, you can teach her, help her, improve her character, if you will. You have more knowledge of life and the world than she has. Dwell with her according to knowledge, says St Peter; use your experience to set her right if she be wrong; and use your experience and your strength, too, to keep down your own temper and your own selfishness toward her, to bear and forbear, to give and forgive, live and let live. Remember that you are heirs TOGETHER of the grace of life; and if the grace of life is not in you, you cannot expect it to be in her. And what is the grace of life? It must be the grace of Christ. St John says that Christ IS the Life. And what is the grace of Christ? Christ's grace, Christ's gracefulness, Christ's beautiful and noble and loving character--the grace of Christ is Christ's likeness. Do you ask what will Christ give me? He will give you Himself. He will make you like Himself, partaker of His grace; and what is that? It is this--to be loving, gentle, temperate, courteous, condescending, self-sacrificing. Giving honour to those who are weaker than yourself, just because they are weaker; ready and willing, ay, and counting it an honour to take trouble for other people, to be of use to other people, to give way to other people; and, above all, to the woman who has given herself to you, body and soul. That is the grace of Christ; that is the grace of life; that is what makes life worth having: ay, makes it a foretaste of heaven upon earth; when man and wife are heirs together of the grace of life, of all those tempers which make life graceful and pleasant, giving way to each other in everything which is not wrong; studying each other's comfort, taking each other's advice, shutting their eyes to each other's little failings, and correcting each other's great failings, not by harsh words, but silently and kindly, by example. And if the man will do that, there is little fear but that the woman will do it also. And so, their prayers are not hindered. Married people cannot pray, they have no heart to pray, while they are discontented with each other. They feel themselves wrong, and because they are parted from each other, they feel parted from God too; and their selfishness or anger rises as a black wall, not merely between them, but between each of them and God. And so the grace of life is indeed gone away from them, and the whole world looks dark and ugly to them, because it is not bright and cheerful in the light of Christ's grace, which makes all the world full of sunshine and joy. But it need not be so, friends. It would not be so, if married people would take the advice which the Prayer Book gives them, and come to Holy communion. Would to God, my friends, that all married people would understand what that Holy communion says to them; and come together Sunday after Sunday to that throne of grace, there to receive of Christ's fulness, and grace upon grace. For that Table says to you: You are heirs together of the grace of life; you are not meant merely to feed together for a few short years, at the same table, on the bread which perishes, but to feed for ever together on the bread which comes down from heaven, even on Christ Himself, the life of the world; to receive life from His life, that you may live together such a life as He lived, and lives still; to receive grace from the fulness of His grace, that you may be full of grace as He is. That Table tells you that because you both must live by the same life of Christ, you must live the same life as each other, and grow more and more like each other year by year; that as you both receive the same grace of Christ, you will become more and more gracious to each other year by year, and both grow together, nearer and dearer to each other, more worthy of each other's respect, more worthy of each other's trust, more worthy of each other's love. And then "till death us do part" may mean what it will. Let death part what of them he can part, the perishing mortal body; he has no power over the soul, or over the body which shall rise to life eternal. Let death do his worst. They belong to Christ who conquered death, and they live by His everlasting life, and their life is hid with Christ in God, where death cannot reach it or find it; and therefore their life and their love, and the grace of it, will last as long as Christ's life and Christ's love, and Christ's grace last- -and that will be for ever and ever. SERMON XXI. FATHER AND CHILD Eversley. 1861. 1 Cor. i. 4, 5, 7. "I thank my God always on your behalf, for the grace of God which is given you by Jesus Christ. That in every thing ye are enriched by Him, in all utterance, and in all knowledge . . . So that ye come behind in no gift; waiting for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Who shall also confirm you unto the end, that ye may be blameless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ." This text is a very important one. It ought to teach me how I should treat you. It ought to teach you how you should treat your children. It ought to teach you how God, your heavenly Father, treats you. You see at the first glance how cheerful and hopeful St Paul is about these Corinthians. He is always thanking God, he says, about them, for the grace of God which was given them by Jesus Christ, that in everything they were enriched by Him, in all utterance and in all knowledge. And he has good hope for them. Nay, he seems to be certain about them, that they will persevere, and conquer, and be saved; for Christ Himself will confirm them (that is strengthen them) to the end, that they may be blameless in the way of our Lord Jesus Christ. If we knew no more of these Corinthians than what these words tell us, we should suppose that they were very great saints, leading holy and irreproachable lives before God and man. But we know that it was not so. That they were going on very ill. That this is the beginning of an epistle in which St Paul is going to rebuke them very severely; and to tell them, that unless they mend, they will surely become reprobates, and be lost after all. He is going to rebuke them for having heresies among them, that is religious parties and religious quarrels--very much as we have now; for being puffed up with spiritual self-conceit; for despising and disparaging him; for loose lives, allowing (in one case) such a crime among them as even the heathen did not allow; for profaning the Lord's Supper, to such an extent that some seem even to have got drunk at it; for want of charity to each other; for indulging in fanatical excitement; for denying, some of them, the resurrection of the dead; on the whole, for being in so unwholesome a state of mind that he has to warn them solemnly of the fearful example of the old Israelites, who perished in the wilderness for their sins--as they will perish, he hints, unless they mend. And yet he begins by thanking God for them, by speaking of them, and to them, in this cheerful and hopeful tone. Does that seem strange? Why should it seem strange, my friends, to us, if we are in the habit of training our children, and rebuking our children, as we ought? If we have to rebuke our children for doing wrong, do we begin by trying to break their hearts? by raking up old offences, by reproaching them with all the wrong they ever did in their lives, and giving them to understand that they are thoroughly bad, and have altogether lost our love, so that we will have nothing more to do with them unless they mend? Or do we begin by making them feel that however grieved we are with them, we love them still; that however wrong they have been, there is right feeling left in them still; and by giving them credit for whatever good there is in them--by appealing to that; calling on them to act up to that; to be true to themselves, and to their better nature; saying, You can do right in one thing--then do right in another--and do right in all? If we do not do this we do wrong; we destroy our children's self-respect, we make them despair of improving, we make them fancy themselves bad children: that is the very surest plan we can take to make them bad children, by making them reckless. But if we be wise parents--such parents to our children as St Paul was to his spiritual children, the Corinthians--we shall do by them just what St Paul did by these Corinthians. Before he says one harsh word to them, he will awaken in them faith and love. He will make them trust him and love him, all the more because he knows that through false teaching they do not trust and love him as they used to do. But till they do, he knows that there is no use in rebuking them. Till they trust him and love him, they will not listen to him. And how does he try to bring them round to him? By praising them:--by telling them that he trusts them and loves them, because in spite of all their faults there is something in them worthy to be loved and trusted. He begins by giving them credit for whatever good there is in them. They are rich in all utterance and all knowledge; that is, they are very brilliant and eloquent talkers about spiritual things, and also very deep and subtle thinkers about spiritual things. So far so good. These are great gifts--gifts of Christ, too,-- tokens that God's spirit is with them, and that all they need is to be true to His gracious inspirations. Then, when he has told them that, or rather made them understand that he knows that, and is delighted at it, then he can go on safely and boldly to tell them of their sins also in the plainest and sternest and yet the most tender and fatherly language. This is very important, my friends. I cannot tell you fully how important I think it, in more ways than one. I am sure that if we took St Paul's method with our children we should succeed with them far better than we do. And I think, I have thought long, that if we could see that St Paul's method with those Corinthians was actually the same as God's method with us, we should have far truer notions of God, and God's dealings with us; and should reverence and value far more that Holy Catholic Church into which we have been, by God's infinite mercy, baptized, and wherein we have been educated. For, and now I entreat you to listen to me carefully, you who have sound heads and earnest hearts, ready and willing to know the truth about God and yourselves, if St Paul looked at the Corinthians in this light, may not God have looked at them in the same light? If St Paul accepted them for the sake of the good which was in them, in spite of all their faults, may not God have accepted them for the sake of the good which was in them, in spite of all their faults? and may not He accept us likewise? I think it must be so. For was not St Paul an inspired apostle? and are not these words of his inspired by the Holy Spirit of God? But if so, then the Spirit of God must have looked at these Corinthians in the same light as St Paul, and therefore God must do likewise, because the Holy Spirit is God. Must it not be so? Can we suppose that God would take one view of these Corinthians, and then inspire St Paul to take another view? What does being inspired mean at all, save having the mind of Christ and of God,--being taught to see men and things as God sees them, to feel for them and think of them as God does? If inspiration does not mean that, what does it mean? Therefore, I think, we have a right to believe that St Paul's words express the mind of God concerning these Corinthians; that God was pleased with their utterance and their knowledge, and accepted them for that; and that in the same way God is pleased with whatsoever He sees good in us, and accepts us for that. But, remember, not for our own works or deservings any more than these Corinthians. They were, and we are accepted in Christ, and for the merits of Christ. And any good points in us, or in these Corinthians, as St Paul says expressly (here and elsewhere), are not our own, but come from Christ, by the inspiration of His Holy Spirit. I know many people do not think thus. They think of God as looking only at our faults; as extreme to mark what is done amiss; as never content with us; as always crying to men, Yes, you have done this and that well, and yet not quite well, for even in what you have done there are blots and mistakes; but this and that you have not done, and therefore you are still guilty, still under infinite displeasure. And they think that they exalt God's holiness by such thoughts, and magnify His hatred of sin thereby. And they invent arguments to prove themselves right, such as this: That because God is an infinite being, every sin committed against Him is infinite; and therefore deserves an infinite punishment; which is a juggle of words of which any educated man ought to be ashamed. I do not know where, in the Bible, they find all this. Certainly not in the writings of St Paul. They seem to me to find it, not in the Bible at all, but in their own hearts, judging that God must be as hard upon His children as they are apt to be upon their own. I know that God is never content with us, or with any man. How can He be? But in what sense is He not content? In the sense in which a hard task-master is not content with his slave, when he flogs him cruelly for the slightest fault? Or in the sense in which a loving father is not content with his child, grieving over him, counselling him, as long as he sees him, even in the slightest matter, doing less well than he might do? Think of that, and when you have thought of it, believe that in this grand text St Paul speaks really by the Spirit of God, and according to the mind of God, and teaches not these old Corinthians merely, but you and your children after you, what is the mind of God concerning you, what is the light in which God looks upon you. For, if you will but think over your own lives, and over the Catechism which you learned in your youth, has not God's way of dealing with you been just the same as St Paul's with those Corinthians, teaching you to love and trust Him almost before He taught you the difference between right and wrong? I know that some think otherwise. Many who do not belong to the Church, and many, alas! who profess to belong to the Church, will tell you that God's method is, first to terrify men by the threats of the law and the sight of their sins and the fear of damnation, and afterwards to reveal to them the gospel and His mercy and salvation in Christ. Now I can only answer that it is not so. Not so in fact. These preachers themselves may do it; but that is no proof that God does it. What God's plan is can only be known from facts, from experience, from what actually happens; first in God's kingdom of nature, and next in God's kingdom of grace, which is the Church. And in the kingdom of nature how does God begin with mankind? What are a child's first impressions of this life? Does he hear voices from heaven telling little children that they are lost sinners? Does he see lightning come from heaven to strike sinners dead, or earthquakes rise and swallow them up? Nothing of the kind. A child's first impressions of this life, what are they but pleasure? His mother's breast, warmth, light, food, play, flowers, and all pleasant things,--by these God educates the child, even of the heathen and the savage:--and why? If haply he may feel after God and find Him, and find that He is a God of love and mercy, a giver of good things, who knows men's necessities before they ask,--a good and loving God, and not a being such as I will not, I dare not speak of. I say with the very heathen God deals thus. We have plain Scripture for that. For we have, and thanks be to God that we have, in such times as these, a missionary sermon preached by St Paul to the heathen at Lystra. And in that is not one word concerning these terrors of the law. He says, I preach to you God, whom you ought to have known of yourselves, because He has not left Himself without witness. And what is this witness of which the apostle speaks? Wrath and terror and destruction? Not so, says St Paul. This is His witness, that He has sent you rain and fruitful seasons, filling your heart with food and gladness. His goodness, His bounty,--it is the witness of God and of the character of God. There is wrath and terror enough, says St Paul elsewhere, awaiting those who go on in sin. But then what does he say is their sin? Despising the goodness of God, by which He has been trying to win mankind to love and trust Him, before He threatens and before He punishes at all. So much for the terrors of the law coming before the good news of the gospel in God's kingdom of nature. And still less do the terrors of the law come first in God's kingdom of grace, which is the Church. They did not come first to you or to me, or to any one in His Church who has been taught, as churchmen should be, their Catechism. If any have been, unhappily for them, brought up to learn Catechisms and hymns which do not belong to the Church, and which terrify little children with horrible notions of God's wrath, and the torments prepared not merely for wicked men, but for unconverted children, and then teach them to say,-- "Can such a wretch as I Escape this dreadful end?" so much the worse for them. We, who are Church people, are bound to believe that God speaks to us through the Church books, and that it was His will that we should have been brought up to believe the Catechism. And in that Catechism we heard not one word of these terrors of the law or of God's wrath hanging over us. We were taught that before we even knew right from wrong, God adopted us freely as His children, freely forgave us our original sin for the sake of Christ's blood, freely renewed us by His Holy Spirit, freely placed us in His Church;--that we might love Him, because He first loved us; trust Him because He has done all that even God could do to win our trust; and obey Him, because we are boundlessly in debt to Him for boundless mercies. This is God's method with us in His Church, and what is it but St Paul's method with these Corinthians? Believe this, then, you who wish to be Churchmen in spirit and in truth. Believe that St Paul's conduct is to you a type and pattern of what God does, and what you ought to do. That God's method of winning you to do right is to make you love Him and trust Him; and that your method of winning your children to do right is to make them love and trust you. Let us remember that if our children are not perfect, they at least inherited their imperfections from us; and if our Father in heaven, from whom we inherit no sin, but only good, have patience with us, shall we not have patience with our children, who owe to us their fallen nature? Ah! cast thy bread upon the waters,--the bread which even the poorest can give to their children abundantly and without stint,--the bread of charity,--human tenderness, forbearance, hopefulness,--cast that bread upon the waters, and thou shalt find it after many days. SERMON XXII. GOD IS OUR REFUGE Westminster Abbey, 1873. Psalm xlvi. 1. "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." This is a noble psalm, full of hope and comfort; and it will be more and more full of hope and comfort, the more faithfully we believe in the incarnation, the passion, the resurrection, and the ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ. For if we are to give credit to His express words, and to those of every book of the New Testament, and to the opinion of that Church into which we are baptised, then Jesus Christ is none other than the same Jehovah, Lord, and God who brought the Jews out of Egypt, who guided them and governed them through all their history--teaching, judging, rewarding, punishing them and all the nations of the earth. This psalm, therefore, is concerning our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom all power is given in heaven and earth, and who ascended up on high; that He might be as He had been from the beginning, King of kings and Lord of lords, the Master of this world and all the nations in it. This psalm, therefore, is a hymn concerning the kingdom of Christ and of God. It tells us something of the government which Christ has been exercising over the world ever since the beginning of it, and which He is exercising over this world now. It bids us be still, and know that He is God--that He will be exalted among the nations, and will be exalted in the earth, whether men like it or not; but that they ought to like it and rejoice in it, and find comfort in the thought that Christ Jesus is their refuge and their strength--a very present help in trouble--as the old Jew who wrote this psalm found comfort. When this psalm was written, or what particular events it speaks of, I cannot tell, for I do not think we have any means of finding out. It may have been written in the time of David, or of Solomon, or of Hezekiah. It may possibly have been written much later. It seems to mo probably to refer--but I speak with extreme diffidence--to that Assyrian invasion, and that preservation of Jerusalem, of which we heard in the magnificent first lesson for this morning and this afternoon; when, at the same time that the Assyrians were crushing, one by one, every nation in the East, there was, as the elder Isaiah and Micah tell us plainly, a great volcanic outbreak in the Holy Land. But all this matters very little to us; because events analogous to those of which it speaks have happened not once only, but many times, and will happen often again. And this psalm lays down a rule for judging of such startling and terrible events whenever they happen, and for saying of them, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." It seems from the beginning of the psalm that there had been earthquakes or hurricanes in Judea--more probably earthquakes, which were and are now frequent there. It seems as if the land had been shaken, and cliffs thrown into the sea, which had rolled back in a mighty wave, such as only too often accompanies an earthquake. But the Psalmist knew that that was God's doing; and therefore he would not fear, though the earth was moved, and though the hills were earned into the very midst of the sea. It seems, moreover, that Jerusalem itself had, as in Hezekiah's time, not been shaken, or at least seriously injured, by the earthquake. But why? "God is in the midst of her, therefore shall she not be removed." It seems, also, as if the earthquake or hurricane had been actually a benefit to Jerusalem-- which was often then, and has been often since, in want of water--that either fresh springs had broken out, or abundant rain had fallen, as occurs at times in such convulsions of nature. But that, too, was God's doing on behalf of His chosen city. "The rivers of the flood" had made "glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacle of the most highest." Moreover, there seem to have been great disturbances and wars among the nations round. The heathen had made much ado, and the kingdoms had been moved. But whatever their plans were, it was God who had brought them to naught. God had shewed His voice, and the earth melted away; and (we know not how) discomfiture had fallen upon them, and a general peace had followed. "O come hither," says the Psalmist, "and behold the works of the Lord, what desolations He has made in the earth." Not a desolation of cruelty and tyranny: but a desolation of mercy and justice; putting down the proud, the aggressive, the ruthless, and helping the meek, the simple, the industrious, and the innocent. It is He, says the Psalmist, who has made wars to cease in all the world, who has broken the bow and snapped the spear in sunder, and burned the chariots in the fire; and so, by the voice of fact, said to these kings and to their armies, if they would but understand it, "Be still, and know that I am God"--that I, not you, will be exalted among the nations--that I, not you, will be exalted in the earth. Such is the 46th Psalm, one of the noblest utterances of the whole Old Testament. And is it not as true for us now, ay, for all nations and all mankind now, as it was when it was uttered? Is not Jesus Christ the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever? Have His words passed away? Did He say in vain, "All power is given unto me in heaven and earth?" Did He say in vain, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world?" I trust not. I trust and I hope that you, or at least some here, believe that Christ is ruling and guiding the world, the church, and every individual soul who trusts in Him toward-- "One far off divine event, To which the whole creation moves." I hope you do have that trust, for your own sakes, for the sake of your own happiness, your own sound peace of mind; for then, and then only, you can afford to be hopeful concerning yourselves, your families, your country, and the whole human race. It must be so. If you believe that He who hung upon the cross for all mankind is your refuge and strength, and the refuge and strength of all mankind, then, amid all the changes and chances of this mortal life, you can afford to be still calm in sudden calamity, patient in long afflictions; for you know that He is God, He is the Lord, He is the Redeemer, He is the King. He knows best. He must be right, whosoever else is wrong. Let Him do what seemeth Him good. Now I cannot but feel (what wiser and better men than I am feel more deeply), that this old-fashioned faith in the living Christ is dying out among us. That men do not believe as they used to do in the living Lord and in His government, in that perpetual divine providence which the Scriptures call "the kingdom of God." They have lost faith in Christ's immediate and personal government of the world and its nations; and, therefore, they are tempted more and more, either to try to misgovern the world themselves, or to fancy that Christ has entrusted His government, as to a substitute and vicar, to an aged priest at Rome. They have lost faith, likewise, in Christ's immediate government of themselves; their own fortunes, their own characters, and inmost souls; and, therefore, they are tempted either to follow no rule or guidance save their own instincts, passions, fancies; or else, in despair at their own inward anarchy, to commit the keeping of their souls to directors and confessors, instead of to Christ Himself, the Lord of the spirits of all flesh. Yes, the faith which keeps a man ever face to face with God and with Christ, in the least as well as in the greatest events of life; which says in prosperity and in adversity, in plenty and scarcity, in joy and sorrow, in peace and war,--It is the Lord's doing, it is the Lord's sending, and therefore we can trust in the Lord--that faith is growing, I fear, very rare. That faith was more common, I think, a generation or two back, in old-fashioned church people than in any other. It could not help being so; for the good old Prayer-Book upon which they were brought up is more full of that simple and living faith in the Lord, from beginning to end, than any other book on earth except the Bible. It was more common, too, and I suppose always will be, among the poor than among the rich; for the poor soon find out how little they have to depend upon except the Lord and His good providence; while the rich are tempted, and always will be, to depend upon their own wealth and their own power, to trust in uncertain riches, and say, "Soul, take thine ease, thou hast much goods laid up for many years." It was more common, too, and I suppose always will be, among the old than among the young; for the young are tempted to trust not in the Lord, but in their own health, strength, wit, courage, and to put their hopes, not on God's Providence, but on the unknown chapter of accidents in the future, most of which will never come to pass; while the old have learned by experience and disappointment the vanity of human riches, the helplessness of human endeavour, the blindness of human foresight, and are content to go where God leads them, and say, "I will go forth in the strength of the Lord God, and will make mention of Thy righteousness only. Thou, O God, hast taught me from my youth up until now: therefore will I tell of Thy wondrous works. Forsake me not, O God, in mine old age, when I am grey-headed; until I have showed Thy strength unto this generation, and Thy power to all them which are yet for to come." But, for some reason or other, this generation does not seem to care to see God's strength; and those that are yet for to come seem likely to believe less and less in God's power--believe less and less that they are in Christ's kingdom, and that Christ is ruling over them and all the world. They have not faith in the Living Lord. But they must get back that faith, if they wish to keep that wealth and prosperity after which every one scrambles so greedily now-a-days; for those who forget God are treading, they and their children after them, not, as they fancy, the road to riches--they are treading the road to ruin. So it always was, so it always will be. Yet the majority of mankind will not see it, and the preacher must not expect to be believed when he says it. Nevertheless it is true. Those who forget that they are in Christ's kingdom, Christ does not go out of His way to punish them. They simply punish themselves. They earn their own ruin by the very laws of human nature. They must find hope in something and strength in something; and if they will not see that God is their hope, they will hope to get rich as fast as possible, and make themselves safe so. If they will not see that God is their strength, they will find strength in cunning, in intrigue, in flattery of the strong and tyranny over the weak, and in making themselves strong so. They want a present help in trouble; and if they will not believe that God is a present help in trouble, they will try to help themselves out of their trouble by begging, lying, swindling, forging, and all those meannesses which fill our newspapers with shameful stories day by day, and which all arise simply out of want of faith in God. Moreover, it is written, "Be still, and know that I am God." And if men will not be still, they will not know that He is God. And if they do not know that the gracious Christ is God, they will not be still; and therefore they will grow more and more restless, discontented, envious, violent, irreverent, full of passions which injure their own souls, and sap the very foundations of order and society and civilised life. And what can come out of all these selfish passions, when they are let loose, but that in which selfishness must always end, but that same mistrust and anarchy, ending in that same poverty and wretchedness, under which so many countries of the world now lie, as it were, weltering in the mire. Alas! say rather weltering in their own life-blood--and all because they have forgotten the living God? Oh, my dear friends, take these words solemnly to heart--for yourselves, and for your children after you. If you wish to prosper on the earth, let God be in all your thoughts. Remember that the Lord is on your right hand; and then, and then alone, will you not be moved, either to terror or to sin, by any of the chances and changes of this mortal life. "Fret not thyself," says the Psalmist, "else shalt thou be moved to do evil." And the only way not to fret yourselves is to remember that God is your refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. "He that believeth," saith the Prophet, "shall not make haste"--not hurry himself into folly and disappointment and shame. Why should you hurry, if you remember that you are in the kingdom of Christ and of God? You cannot hurry God's Providence, if you would; you ought not, if you could. God MUST know best; God's Laws MUST work at the right pace, and fulfil His Will in the right way and at the right time. As for what that Will is, we can know from the angels' song on Christmas Eve, which told us how God's Will was a good will towards men. For who is our Lord? Who is our King? Who is our Governor? Who is our Lawgiver? Who is our Guide? Christ, who died for us on Calvary; who rose again for us; who ascended into heaven for us; who sits at God's right hand for us; who sent down His Holy Spirit at the first Whitsuntide; and sends Him down for ever to us; that by His gracious inspiration we may both perceive and know what we ought to do, and also may have grace and power faithfully to fulfil the same. With such a King over us, how can the world but go right? With such a King over us, what refuge or strength or help in trouble do we need but Him Himself?--His Providence, which is Love, and His Laws, which are Life. SERMON XXIII. PRIDE AND HUMILITY Eversley, 1869. Chester Cathedral, 1870. 1st. Peter v. 5. "God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble." Let me, this evening, say a few words to you on theology, that is, on the being and character of God. You need not be afraid that I shall use long or difficult words. Sound theology is simple enough, and I hope that my words about it will be simple enough for the worst scholar here to understand. "God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble." Now, this saying is an old one. It had been said, in different words, centuries before St Peter said it. The old prophets and psalmists say it again and again. The idea of it runs through the whole of the Old Testament, as anyone must know who has read his Bible with common care. But why should it be true? What reason is there for it? What is there in the character of God which makes it reasonable, probable, likely to be true? That God would give grace to the humble, and reward men for bowing down before His Majesty, seems not so difficult to understand. But why should God resist the proud? How does a man's being proud injure God, who is "I AM THAT I AM;" perfectly self-sufficient, having neither parts nor passions, who tempteth no man, neither is tempted of any? "Why should God go out of His way, as it were, to care for such a paltry folly as the pride of an ignorant, weak, short-sighted creature like man? Now, let us take care that we do not give a wrong answer to this question--an answer which too many have given, in their hearts and minds, though not perhaps in words, and so have fallen into abject and cruel superstitions, from which may God keep us, and our children after us. They have said to themselves, God is proud, and has a right to be proud: and therefore He chooses no one to be proud but Himself. Pride in man calls out His pride, and makes Him angry. They have thought of God as some despotic Sultan of the Indies, who is surrounded, not by free men, but by slaves; who will have those slaves at his beck and nod. In one word, they have thought of God as a tyrant. They have thought of God, and, may God forgive them, have talked of God as if He were like Nebuchadnezzar of old, who, when the three young men refused to obey him, was filled with rage and fury, and cast them into a burning fiery furnace. That is some men's God--a God who must be propitiated by crouching and flattery, lest he should destroy them--a God who holds all men as his slaves, and therefore hates pride in them. For what has a slave to do with pride? But that is not the God of the Bible, my friends, nor the God of Nature either, the God who made the world and man. For He is not a tyrant, but a Father. He wishes men not to be His slaves, but His children. And if He resists the proud, it is because children have no right to be proud. If He resists the proud, it is in fatherly love, because it is bad for them to be proud. Not because the proud are injuring God, but because they are injuring themselves, does God resist them, and bring them low, and show them what they are, and where they are, that they may repent, and be converted, and turned back into the right way. Remember always that God is your Father. This question, like all questions between God and man, is a question between a father and a child; and if you see it in any other light, and judge it by any other rule, you see it and judge it wrongly, and learn nothing about it, or worse than nothing. If God were really angry with, really hated, the proud man, or any other man, would He need only to resist him? would He have to wait till the next life to punish him? My dear friends, if God really hated you or me, do you not suppose that He would simply destroy us--get rid of us--abolish us and annihilate us off the face of the earth, just as we crush a gnat when it bites us? That God can do; and more--He does it now and then. He will endure with much long suffering vessels of wrath, fitted to destruction: but a moment sometimes comes when He will endure them no longer, and He destroys them with the destruction for which they have fitted themselves. In them is fulfilled the parable of the rich man, who said to himself, "Soul, thou hast much good laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry. But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee." But for the most part, thanks to the mercy of our Heavenly Father, we are not destroyed by our pride and for our pride. We are only chastened, as a father chastens his child. And that we are chastised for pride, who does not know? What proverb more common, what proverb more true, than that after pride comes a fall? Do we not know (if we do not, we shall know sooner or later) that the surest way to fail in any undertaking is to set about it in self-will and self-conceit; that the surest way to do a foolish thing, is to fancy that we are going to do a very wise one; that the surest way to make ourselves ridiculous in the eyes of our fellow-men, is to assume airs, and boast, shew ourselves off, and end by shewing off only our own folly? Why is it so? Why has God so ordered the world and human nature, that pride punishes itself? Because, I presume, pride is begotten and born of a lie, and God hates a lie, because all lies lead to ruin, and this lie of pride above all. It is as it were the root lie of all lies. The very lie by which, as old tales tell, Satan fell from heaven, and when he tried to become a god in his own right, found himself, to his surprise and disappointment, only a devil. For pride and self-conceit contradict the original constitution of man and the universe, which is this--that of God are all things, and in God are all things, and for God are all things. Man depends on God. Self tells him that he depends on himself. Man has nothing but what he receives from God. Self tells him that what he has is his own, and that he has a right to do with it what he likes. Man knows nothing but what God teaches him. Self tells him that he has found out everything for himself, and can say what he thinks fit without fear of God or man. Therefore the proud, self-willed, self-conceited man must come to harm, like Malvolio in the famous play, merely because he is in the blackest night of ignorance. He has mistaken who he is, what he is, where he is. He is fancying himself, as many mad men do, the centre of the universe; while God is the centre of the universe. He is just as certain to come to harm as a man would be on board a ship, who should fancy that he himself, and not the ship, was keeping him afloat, and step overboard to walk upon the sea. We all know what would happen to that man. Let us thank God our Father that He not only knows what would happen to such men: but desires to save them from the consequences of their own folly, by letting them feel the consequences of their own folly. Oh my friends, let us search our hearts, and pray to our Father in Heaven to take out of them, by whatever painful means, the poisonous root of pride, self-conceit, self-will. So only shall we be truly strong--truly wise. So only shall we see what and where we are. Do we pride ourselves on being something? Shall we pride ourselves on health and strength? A tile falling off the roof, a little powder and lead in the hands of a careless child, can blast us out of this world in a moment--whither, who can tell? What is our cleverness--our strength of mind? A tiny blood vessel bursting on the brain, will make us in one moment paralytic, helpless, babblers, and idiots. What is our knowledge of the world? That of a man, who is forcing his way alone through a thick and pathless wood, where he has never been before, to a place which he has never seen. What is our wisdom--What does a wise man say of his? "So runs my dream; but what am I? An infant crying in the night; An infant crying for the light; And with no language but a cry." Yes. Our true knowledge is to know our own ignorance. Our true strength is to know our own weakness. Our true dignity is to confess that we have no dignity, and are nobody, and nothing in ourselves, and to cast ourselves down before the Dignity of God, under the shadow of whose wings, and in the smile of whose countenance, alone, is any created being safe. Let us cling to our Father in Heaven, as a child, walking in the night, clings to his father's hand. Let us take refuge on the lowest step of the throne of Christ our Lord, and humble ourselves under His mighty hand; and, instead of exalting ourselves in undue time, leave Him to exalt us again in due time, when the chastisement has told on us, and patience had her perfect work; casting all our care on Him, who surely cares for us still, if He cared for us once, enough to die for us on the cross; caring for God's opinion and not for the opinion of the world. And then we shall be among the truly humble, to whom God gives grace-- first grace in their own hearts, that they may live gracious lives, modest and contented, dignified and independent, trusting in God and not in man; and then, grace in the eyes of their fellow-men, for what is more graceful, what is more gracious, pleasant to see, pleasant to deal with, than the humble man, the modest man? I do not mean the cringing man, the flattering man, the man who apes humility for his own ends, because he wants to climb high, by pretending to be lowly. He is neither graceful or gracious. He is only contemptible, and he punishes himself. He spoils his own game. He defeats his own purpose. For men despise him, and use him, and throw him away when they have done with him, as they throw away a dirty worn-out tool. Not him do I mean by the humble man, the modest man. I mean the man who, like a good soldier, knows his place and keeps it, knows his duty, and does it; who expects to be treated as a man should be, with fairness, consideration, respect, kindness--and God will always treat him so, whether man does or not: but who, beyond that, does not trouble his mind with whether he be private or sergeant, lieutenant or colonel, but with whether he can do his duty as private, his duty as sergeant, his duty as lieutenant, his duty as colonel; who has learnt the golden lesson, which so few learn in these struggling, envious, covetous, ambitious days, namely, to abide in the calling to which he is called, and in whatsoever state he is, therewith to be content. To be sure that in God's world, the only safe way to become ruler over many things is to be a good ruler over a few things; that if he is fit for better work than he is doing now, God will find that out, sooner and more surely than he, or any man will, and will set him about it; and that, meanwhile, God has set him about work which he can do, and that the true wisdom is to do that and do it well, and so approve himself alike to man and God, humbling himself under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt him in good time, by giving him grace and strength to do great things, as He has given him grace and strength to do small things. Am I speaking almost to deaf ears? I fear that few here will take my advice. I fear that many here will have excellent excuses and plain reasons, why they should not take it. Be it so. They cannot alter eternal fact. In one word, they cannot alter Theology. They cannot alter the laws of God. They cannot alter the character of God. And sooner or later, in this world or in the next, they will find out that Theology is right: and St Peter is right: that God DOES resist the proud, that God DOES give grace to the humble. SERMON XXIV. WORSHIP Eversley, September 4, 1870. Revelation xi. 16, 17. "And the four and twenty elders, which sat before God on their seats, fell upon their faces, and worshipped God, saying, We give thee thanks, O Lord God Almighty, which art, and wast, and art to come; because thou hast taken to thee thy great power, and hast reigned." My dear friends,--I wish to speak a few plain words to you this morning, on a matter which has been on my mind ever since I returned from Chester, namely,--The duty of the congregation to make the responses in Church. Now I am not going to scold--even to blame. To do so would be not only unjust, but ungrateful in me, to a congregation which is as attentive and as reverent as you are. Indeed, I am the only person to blame, for I ought to have spoken on the subject long ago. As it is, coming fresh from Chester, and accustomed to hear congregations, in that city and in the country round, reading the responses aloud throughout the service with earnestness, and reverence, I was painfully struck by the silence in this church. I had before grown so accustomed to it that I did not perceive it, just as one grows accustomed to a great many things which ought not to be, till one forgets that, however usual they may be, wrong they are, and ought to be amended. Now, it is always best to begin at the root of a matter. So to begin at the root of this. Why do we come to church at all? Some will say, to hear the sermon. That is often too true. Some folks do come to church to hear a man get up and preach, just as they go to a concert to hear a man get up and sing, to amuse and interest them for half-an-hour. Some go to hear sermons, doubtless, in order that they may learn from them. But are there not, especially in these days of cheap printing, books of devotion, tracts, sermons, printed, which contain better preaching than any which they are likely to hear in church? If TEACHING is all that they come to church for, they can get that in plenty at home. Moreover, nine people out of ten who come to church need no teaching at all. They know already, just as well as the preacher, what is right and what is wrong; they know their duty; they know how to do it. And if they do not intend to do it, all the talking in the world (as far as I have seen) will not make them do it. Moreover, if the teaching in the sermon be what we come to church for, why have we prayer-books full of prayers, thanksgivings, psalms, and so forth, which are not sermons at all? What is the use of the service, as we call it, if the sermon is the only or even the principal object for which we come? I trust there are many of you here who agree with me so fully, that you would come regularly to church, as I should, even if there were no sermon, knowing that God preaches to every man, in the depths of his own heart and conscience, far more solemn and startling sermons than any mortal man can utter. Others will answer that they come to church to say their prayers. Well: that is a wiser answer than the last. But if that be all, why can they not say their prayers at home? God is everywhere. God is all-seeing, all-hearing, about our path and about our bed, and spying out all our ways. Is He not as ready to hear in the field, and in the workshop and in the bed-chamber, as in the church? "When thou prayest," says our Lord, "enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." Those are not my words, they are the words of our Lord Jesus Christ Himself; and none can gainsay them. None dare take from them or add to them; and our coming to church, therefore, must be for more reasons than for the mere saying of our prayers. Others will answer--very many, indeed, will answer--we come to church because--because, we hardly know why, but because we ought to come to church. Some may call that a silly answer, only fit for children: but I do not think so. It seems to me a very rational answer: perhaps a very reverent and godly answer. A man comes to church for reasons which he cannot explain to himself: just so--and many of the deepest and best feelings of our hearts, are just those that we cannot explain to ourselves, though we believe in them, would fight for them, die for them. The man who frankly confesses that he does not quite know why he comes to church is most likely to know at last why he does come; most likely to understand the answer which Scripture gives to the question why we come to church. And what answer is that? Strange to say, one which people now-a-days, with their Bibles in their hands, have almost forgotten. We come to church, according to the Bible, to worship God. To worship. Think awhile what that ancient and deep and noble word signifies. So ancient is it, that man learnt to worship even before he learnt to till the ground. So deep, that even to this day no man altogether understands what worshipping means. So noble, that the noblest souls on earth delight most in worshipping; that the angels, and archangels, and the spirits of just men made perfect, find no nobler occupation, no higher enjoyment, in the heavenly world than worshipping for ever Him whose glory fills all earth and heaven. To worship. That power of worship, that longing to worship, that instinct that it is his duty to worship something, is--if you will receive it--the true distinction between men and brutes. Philosophers have tried to define man as this sort of animal and that sort of animal. The only sound definition is this: man is THE one animal who worships; and he worships, just because he is NOT merely an animal, but a man, with an immortal soul within him. Just in as far as man sinks down again to the level of the brute--whether in some savage island of the South Seas, or in some equally savage alley of our own great cities--God forgive us that such human brutes should exist here in Christian England--just so far he feels no need to worship. He thinks of no unseen God or powers above him. He cares for nothing but what his five senses tell him of; he feels no need to go to church and worship. Just in as far as a man rises to the true standard of a man; just in as far as his heart and his mind are truly cultivated, truly developed, just so far does he become more and more aware of an unseen world about him; more and more aware that in God he lives and moves and has his being--and so much the more he feels the longing and the duty to worship that unseen God on whom he and the whole universe depend. I know what seeming exceptions there are to this rule, especially in these days. But I say that they are only seeming exceptions. I never knew yet (and I have known many of them) a virtuous and high-minded unbeliever: but what there was in him the instinct of worshipping--the longing to worship--he knew not what, the spirit of reverence, which confesses its own ignorance and weakness, and is ready to set up, like the Athenians of old, an altar--in the heart at least--to the unknown God. But how to worship Him? The word itself, if we consider what it means, will tell us that. Worship, without doubt, is the same word as worth- ship. It signifies the worth of Him whom we worship, that He is worthy,- -a worthy God, not merely because of what He has done, but because of what He is worth in Himself. Good, excellent, and perfect in Himself, and therefore to be admired, praised, reverenced, adored, worshipped-- even if He had never done a kindness to you or to any human being. Remember this last truth. For true it is; and we remember it too little. Of course we know that God is good; first and mainly by His goodness to us. Because He is good enough to give us life and breath and all things, we conclude that He is a good being. Because He is good enough to have not spared His only begotten Son, but freely given Him for us, when we were still sinners and rebels, we conclude Him to be the best of all beings, a being of boundless goodness. But it is because God is so perfectly and gloriously good in Himself, and not merely because He has done US kindnesses, yea, heaped us with undeserved benefits, that we are to worship Him. For His kindnesses we owe Him gratitude, and gratitude without end. But for His excellent and glorious goodness, we owe Him worship, and worship without end. There are some hearts, surely, among you here who know what I mean: some here who have felt reverence and admiration for some great and good human being, and who have felt, too, that that reverence and admiration is one of the most elevating and unselfish of all feelings, and quite distinct from any gratitude, however just, for favours done; who can say, in their hearts, of some noble human being: "If he never did me a kindness, never spoke to me, never knew of my existence, I should honour him and love him just the same, for the noble and good personage that he is, irrespective of little me, and my paltry wants." Then, even such ought to be our feeling toward God, our worship of God. Even so should we adore Him who alone is worthy of glory, and honour, and praise, and thanksgiving, because He is good, and beautiful, and wise Himself, and the cause and source of all goodness, and beauty, and wisdom, in all created beings, and in the whole universe, past, present, and to come. Consider, I beseech you, those glimpses of the Eternal Worship in heaven which St John gives us in the Book of Revelation--How he saw the elders fall down before Him who sat upon the throne, and worship Him that liveth for ever, and cast their crowns before the throne, saying: "Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory, and honour, and power; for Thou hast created all things, and for Thy pleasure they are and were created." Consider that--Those blessed spirits of just men made perfect, confessing that they are nothing, but that Christ is all; that they have nothing, but that they owe all to Christ; and declaring Him worthy--not merely for any special mercies and kindnesses to themselves, not even for that crowning mercy of His incarnation, His death, His redemption; even that seems to have vanished from their minds at the sight of Him as He is. They glorify Him and worship Him simply for what He is in Himself, for what He would have been even if--which God forbid--He had never stooped from heaven to live and die on earth--for what He is and was and will be through eternity, the Creator and the Ruler, who has made all things, and for whose pleasure they are and were created. Consider that one text. The more I consider it, the more awful and yet most blessed depths of teaching do I find therein: and consider this text also, another glimpse of the worship which is in heaven. "I heard a great voice of much people in heaven, singing Alleluia; salvation, and glory, and honour, and power, unto the Lord our God; for true and righteous are His judgments." What the special judgment was, for which these blessed souls worshipped God, I shall not argue here. It is enough for us that they worshipped God, as we should worship Him, because His judgments were righteous and true, were like Himself, proved Him to be what He was, worthy in Himself, because He is righteous and true. And consider then, again--the text. Before Him, the righteous and true Being who has created all things for His pleasure, and therefore has made them wisely and well; before Him who reigns, and will reign till He has put all His enemies under His foot; before Him, I say, bow down yourselves, and find true nobleness in confessing your own paltriness, true strength in confessing your own weakness, true wisdom in confessing your own ignorance, true holiness in confessing your own sins. And not alone merely, each in your own chamber, or in your own heart. That is the place for private confessions of sin, for private prayers for help; for all the secrets which we dare not, and need not tell to any human being. They indeed are not out of place here in church. Those who composed our Prayer Book felt that, and have filled our services, the Litany especially, with prayers in which each of us can offer up his own troubles to God, if he but remember that he is offering up to God his neighbour's troubles also, and the troubles of all mankind. For this is the reason why we pray together in church; why all men, in all ages, heathen as well as Christian, have had the instinct of assembling together for public worship. They may have fancied often that their deity dwelt in one special spot, and that they must go thither to find him. They may have fancied that he or she dwelt in some particular image, and that they must visit, and pray to that particular image, if they wished their prayers to be heard. All this, however, have men done in their foolishness; but beneath that foolishness there have been always more rational ideas, sounder notions. They felt that it was God who had made them into families, and therefore whole families met together to worship in common Him of whom every family in heaven and earth is named. That God had formed them into societies whether into tribes, as of old, or into parishes, as here now; and therefore whole parishes came together to worship God, whose laws they were bound to obey in their parochial society. They felt that it was God who had made them into Nations (as the psalm says which we repeat every Sunday morning), and not they themselves; and therefore they conceived the grand idea of National churches, in which the whole nation should, if possible, worship Sunday after Sunday, at the same time, and in the same words, that God to whom they owed their order, their freedom, their strength, their safety, their National unity and life. And not in silence merely. These blessed souls in heaven are not silent. They in heaven follow out the human instinct which they had on earth, which all men (when they recollect themselves, will have), when they feel a thing deeply, when they believe a thing strongly, to speak it--to speak it aloud. They do not fancy in heaven, as the priests of Baal did on earth, that they must cry aloud, or God could not hear them. They do not fancy, as the heathen do, that they must make vain repetitions, and say the same words over and over again by rote, because they will be heard for their much speaking; neither need you and I. But yet they spoke aloud, because out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh; and so should you and I. And this brings me to the special object of my sermon. I have told you what (as it seems to me) Worship means; why we worship; why we worship together; and why we ought to worship aloud. Believe me, this last is your duty just as much as mine. The services of the Church of England are so constructed that the whole congregation may take part in them, that they may answer aloud in the responses, that they may say Amen at the end of each prayer, just as they read or chant aloud the alternate verses of the Psalms. The minister does not say prayers for them, but with them. He is only their leader, their guide. And if they are not to join in with their voices, there is really no reason why he should use his voice, why he should not say the prayers in silence and to himself, if the congregation are to say Amen in silence and to themselves. Each person in the congregation ought to join aloud, first for the sake of his neighbours, and then for his own sake. For the sake of his neighbours: for to hear each other's voices stirs up earnestness, stirs up attention, keeps off laziness, inattention, and by a wholesome infection, makes all the congregation of one mind, as they are of one speech, in glorifying God. And for his own sake, too. For, believe me, when a man utters the responses aloud, he awakens his own thoughts and his own feelings, too. He speaks to himself, and he hears himself remind himself of God, and of his duty to God, and acknowledge himself openly (as in confirmation) bound to believe and do what he, by his own confession, has assented unto. Believe me, my dear friends, this is no mere theory. It is to me a matter of fact and experience. I cannot, I have long found, keep my attention steady during a service, if I do not make the responses aloud;- -if I do not join in with my voice, I find my thoughts wandering; and I am bound to suppose that the case is the same with you. Do not, therefore, think me impertinent or interfering, if I ask you all to take your due share in worshipping God in this church with your voices, as well as with your hearts. Let these services be more lively, more earnest, more useful to us all than they have been, by making them more a worship of the whole congregation, and not of the minister alone. I have read of a great church in the East, in days long, long ago, in which the responses of the vast congregation were so unanimous, so loud, that they sounded (says the old writer) like a clap of thunder. That is too much to expect in our little country church: but at least, I beg you, take such an open part in the responses, that you shall all feel that you are really worshipping together the same God and Christ, with the same heart and mind; and that if a stranger shall come in, he may say in his heart: Here are people who are in earnest, who know what they are about, and are not ashamed of trying to do it; people who evidently mean what they say, and therefore say what they mean. SERMON XXV. THE PEACE OF GOD Baltimore, U.S., 1874. Westminster Abbey. November 8, 1874. Colossians. iii 15. "Let the peace of God rule in your hearts." The peace of God. That is what the priest will invoke for you all, when you leave this abbey. Do you know what it is? Whether you do or not, let me tell you in a few words, what I seem to myself to have learned concerning that peace. What it is? how we can obtain it? and why so many do not obtain it, and are, therefore, not at peace? It is worth while to do so. For these are not peaceful times. The peace of God is rare among us. Some say that it is rarer than it was. I know not how that may be; but I see all manner of causes at work around us which should make it rare. We live faster than our forefathers. We hurry, we bustle, we travel, we are eager for daily, almost for hourly news from every quarter, as if the world could not get on without us, or we without knowing a hundred facts which merely satisfy the curiosity of the moment; and as if the great God could not take excellent care of us all meanwhile. We are eager, too, to get money, and get more money still--piercing ourselves through too often, as the Apostle warned us-- with many sorrows, and falling into foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. We are luxurious--more and more fond of show; more apt to live up to our incomes, and probably a little beyond; more and more craving for this or that gew-gaw, especially in dress and ornament, which if our neighbour has, we must have too, or we shall be mortified, envious. Nay, so strong is this temper of rivalry, of allowing no superiors, grown in us, that we have made now-a-days a god of what used to be considered the basest of all vices--the vice of envy-- and dignify it with the names of equality and independence. Men in this temper of mind cannot be at peace. They are not content; they cannot be content. But with what are they not content? That is a question worth asking. For there is a discontent (as I have told you ere now) which is noble, manful, heroic, and divine. Just as there is a discontent which is base, mean, unmanly, earthly--sometimes devilish. There is a discontent which is certain, sooner or later, to bring with it the peace of God. There is a discontent which drives the peace of God away, for ever and a day. And the noble and peace-bringing discontent is to be discontented with ourselves, as very few are. And the mean peace-destroying discontent is to be discontented with things around us, as too many are. Now, my friends, I cannot see into your hearts; and I ought not to see. For if I saw, I should be tempted to judge; and if I judged, I should most certainly judge rashly, shallowly, and altogether wrong. Therefore examine yourselves, and judge yourselves in this matter. Ask yourselves each, Am I at peace? And if not, then apply to yourselves the rule of old Epictetus, the heroic slave, who, heathen though he was, sought God, and the peace of God, and found them, doubt it not, long, long ago. Ask yourselves with Epictetus, Am I discontented with things which are in my own power, or with things which are not in my own power?--that is, discontented with myself, or with things which are not myself? Am I discontented with myself, or with things about me, and outside of me? Consider this last question well, if you wish to be true Christians, true philosophers, and, indeed, true men and women. But what is it that troubles you? What is it you want altered? On what have you set your heart and affections? Is it something outside you?-- something which is NOT you yourself? If so, there is no use in tormenting your soul about it; for it is not in your own power, and you will never alter it to your liking; and more, you need not alter it, for you are not responsible for it. God sends it as it is, for better, for worse, and you must make up your mind to what God sends. Do I mean that we are to submit slavishly to circumstances, like dumb animals? Heaven forbid. We are not, like Epictetus, slaves, but free men. And we are made in God's image, and have each our spark, however dim, of that creative genius, that power of creating or of altering circumstances, by which God made all worlds; and to use that, is of our very birthright, or what would all education, progress, civilisation be, save rebellion against God? But when we have done our utmost, how little shall we have done! Canst thou,--asks our Lord, looking with loving sadness on the hurry and the struggle of the human anthill--canst thou by taking thought add one cubit to thy stature? Why, is there a wise man or woman in this abbey, past fifty years of age, who does not know that, in spite of all their toil and struggle, they have gone not whither they willed, but whither God willed? Have they not found out that for one circumstance of their lives which they could alter, there have been twenty which they could not, some born with them, some forced on them by an overruling Providence, irresistible indeed--but, as I hold, most loving and most fatherly, though often severe--even to agony--but irresistible still-- till what they have really gained by fighting circumstance, however valiantly, has been the MORAL gain, the gain in character?--the power to live the heroic life, which "Is not as idle ore, But heated hot with burning fears, And bathed in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd, with the shocks of doom, To shape and use." Ah! if a man be learning that lesson, which is the primer of eternal life, then I hardly pity him, though I see him from youth to age tearing with weak hands at the gates of brass, and beating his soul's wings to pieces against the bars of the iron cage. But, alas! the majority of mankind tear at the gates of brass, and beat against the iron cage, with no such good purpose, and therefore with no such good result. They fight with circumstances, not that they may become better themselves, not that they may right the wrongs or elevate the souls of their fellow-men, not even that they may fulfil the sacred duty of maintaining, and educating, and providing for the children whom they have brought into the world, and for whom they are responsible alike to God and to man; but simply because circumstances are disagreeable to them; because the things around them do not satisfy their covetousness, their luxury, their ambition, their vanity. And therefore the majority of mankind want to be, and to do, and to have a hundred things which are not in their own power, and of which they have no proof that God intends to give them; no proof either that if they had them, they would make right use of them, and certainly no proof at all that if they had them they would find peace. They war and fight, and have not, because they ask not. They ask, and have not, because they ask amiss, to consume it on their lusts; and so they spend their lives without peace, longing, struggling for things outside them, the greater part of which they do not get, because the getting them is not in their own power, and which if they got they could not keep, for they can carry nothing away with them when they die, neither can their pomp follow them. And therefore does man walk in a vain shadow, and disquiet himself in vain, looking for peace where it is not to be found--in everything and anything save in his own heart, in duty, and in God. But happy are they who are discontented with the divine discontent, discontented with themselves. Happy are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, that they may become righteous and good men. Happy are they who have set their hearts on the one thing which is in their own power--being better than they are, and doing better than they do. Happy are they who long and labour after the true riches, which neither mobs nor tyrants, man nor devil, prosperity nor adversity, or any chance or change of mortal life, can take from them--the true and eternal wealth, which is the Spirit of God. The man, I say, who has set his heart on being good, has set his heart on the one thing which is in his own power; the one thing which depends wholly and solely on his own will; the one thing which he can have if he chooses, for it is written, "If ye then being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him?" Moreover, he has set his heart on the one thing which cannot be taken from him. God will not take it from him; and man, and fortune, and misfortune, cannot take it from him. Poverty, misery, disease, death itself, cannot make him a worse man, cannot make him less just, less true, less pure, less charitable, less high-minded, less like Christ, and less like God. Therefore he is at peace, for he is, as it were, intrenched in an impregnable fortress, against all men and all evil influences. And that castle is his own soul. And the keeper of that castle is none other than Almighty God, Jesus Christ our Lord, to whose keeping he has committed his soul, as unto a faithful and merciful Saviour, able to keep to the uttermost that which is committed to Him in faith and holiness. Therefore that man is at peace with himself, for his conscience tells him that he is, if not doing his best, yet trying to do his best, better and better day by day. He is at peace with all the world; for most men are longing and quarrelling for pleasant things outside them, for which he does not greatly care, while he is longing and striving for good things inside him in his own heart and soul; and so the world goes one way, and he another, and their desires do not interfere with each other. But, more, that man is at peace with God. He is at peace with God the Father; for he is behaving as the Father wishes His children to behave. He is at peace with God the Son; for he is trying to do that which God the Son did when He came not to do His own will, but His Father's; not to grasp at anything for himself, but simply to sacrifice himself for duty, for the good of man. And he is at peace with God the Holy Spirit; for he is obeying the gracious inspirations of that Spirit, and growing a better man day by day. And so the peace of God keeps that man's heart free from vain desires and angry passions, and his mind from those false and foolish judgments which make the world think things important which are quite unimportant; and, again, fancy things unimportant which are more important to them than the riches of the whole world. My dear friends, take my words home with you, and if you wish for the only true and sound peace, which is the peace of God, do your duty. Try to be as good as you can, each in his station in life. So help you God. Take an example from the soldier on the march; and if you do that, you will all understand what I mean. The bad soldier has no peace, just because he troubles himself about things outside himself, and not in his own power. "Will the officers lead us right?" That is not in his power. Let him go where the officers lead him, and do his own duty. "Will he get food enough, water enough, care enough, if he is wounded?" I hope and trust in God he will; but that is not in his own power. Let him take that, too, as it comes, and do his duty. "Will he be praised, rewarded, mentioned in the newspapers, if he fights well?" That, too, is not in his own power. Let him take that, too, as it comes, and do his duty; and so of everything else. If the soldier on the march torments himself with these matters which are not in his own power, he is the man who will be troublesome and mutinous in time of peace, and in time of war will be the first to run away. He will tell you, "A man must have justice done him; a man must see fair play for himself; a man must think of himself." Poor fool! He is not thinking of himself all the while, but of a number of things which are outside him, circumstances which stand round him, and outside him, and are not himself at all. Because he thinks of them--the things outside him--he is a coward or a mutineer, while he fancies he is taking care of himself--as it is written, "Whosoever shall seek to save his life shall lose it." But if the man will really think of himself, of that which is inside him, of his own character, his own honour, his own duty--then he will say, Well fed or ill fed, well led or ill led, praised and covered with medals, or neglected and forgotten, and dying in a ditch, I, by myself I, am the same man, and I have the same work to do. I have to be--myself, and I have to do--my duty. So help me God. And therefore, so help me God, I will be discontented with no person or thing, save only with myself; and I will be discontented with myself, not when I have left undone something extraordinary, which I know I could not have done, but only when I have left undone something ordinary, some plain duty which I know I could have done, had I asked God to help me to do it. Then in that soldier would be fulfilled--has been fulfilled, thank God, a thousand times, by men who lie in this abbey, and by men, too, of whom we never heard, "whose graves are scattered far and wide, by mount, by stream, by sea,"--in him would be fulfilled, I say, the words, "He that will lose his life shall save it." Then would he have in his heart, and in his mind likewise, a peace which victory and safety cannot give, and which defeat, and wounds, ay, death itself, can never take away. And are not you, too, soldiers--soldiers of Jesus Christ? Then even as that good soldier, you may be at peace, through all the battles, victories, defeats of mortal life, if you will be discontented with nothing save yourselves, and vow, in spirit and in truth, the one oath which is no blasphemy, but an act of faith, and an act of prayer, and a confession of the true theology--So help me God. For then God will help you. Neither you nor I know how; and I am sure neither you nor I know why--save that God is utterly good. God, I say, will help you, by His Holy Spirit the Comforter, to do your duty, and to be at peace. And then the peace of God will rule in your hearts and make you kings to God. For He will enable YOU each to rule, serene, though weary, over a kingdom-- or, alas! rather a mob, the most unruly, the most unreasonable, the most unstable, and often the most fierce, which you are like to meet on earth. To rule, I say, over a mob, of which you each must needs be king or slave, according as you choose. And what is that mob? What but your own faculties, your own emotions, your own passions--in one word, your own selves? Yes, with the peace of God ruling in your hearts, you will be able to become what without it you will never be--and that is--masters of yourselves. SERMON XXVI. SINS OF PARENTS VISITED Eversley. 19th Sunday after Trinity, 1868. Ezekiel xviii. 1-4. "The word of the Lord came unto me again, saying, What mean ye, that ye use this proverb concerning the land of Israel, saying, The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge? As I live, saith the Lord God, ye shall not have occasion any more to use this proverb in Israel. Behold, all souls are mine; as the soul of the father, so also the soul of the son is mine: the soul that sinneth, it shall die." This is a precious chapter, and a comfortable chapter likewise, for it helps us to clear up a puzzle which has tormented the minds of men in all ages whenever they have thought of God, and of whether God meant them well, or meant them ill. For all men have been tempted. We are tempted at times to say,--The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge. That is, we are punished not for what we have done wrong, but for what our fathers did wrong. One man says,--My forefathers squandered their money, and I am punished by being poor. Or, my forefathers ruined their constitutions, and, therefore, I am weakly and sickly. My forefathers were ignorant and reckless, and, therefore, I was brought up ignorant, and in all sorts of temptation. And so men complain of their ill-luck and bad chance, as they call it, till they complain of God, and say, as the Jews said in Ezekiel's time, God's ways are unequal--partial--unfair. He is a respecter of persons. He has not the same rule for all men. He starts men unequally in the race of life--some heavily weighted with their father's sins and misfortunes, some helped in every way by their father's virtue and good fortune--and then He expects them all to run alike. God is not just and equal. And then some go on,--men who think themselves philosophers, but are none--to say things concerning God of which I shall say nothing here, lest I put into your minds foolish thoughts, which had best be kept out of them. But, some of you may say, Is it not so after all? Is it not true? Is not God harder on some than on others? Does not God punish men every day for their father's sins? Does He not say in the Second Commandment that He will do so, and visit the sins of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth generation; and how can you make that agree with what Ezekiel says,--"The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father." My dear friends, I know that this is a puzzle, and always has been one. Like the old puzzle of God's foreknowledge and our free will, which seem to contradict each other. Like the puzzle that we must help ourselves, and yet that God must help us, which seem to contradict each other. So with this. I believe of it, as of the two others I just mentioned, that there is no real contradiction between the two cases; and that some-when, somehow, somewhere, in the world to come, we shall see them clearly reconciled; and justify God in all His dealings, and glorify Him in all His ways. But surely already, here, now, we may see our way somewhat into the depths of this mystery. For Christ has come to give us light, and in His light we may see light, even into this dark matter. For see: God visits the sins of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation--but of whom?--of them that hate Him. Now, by those who hate God is meant, those who break His commandments, and are bad men. If so, then, I say that God is not only just but merciful, in visiting the sins of the fathers on the children. For, consider two cases. Suppose these bad men, from father to son, and from son to grandson, go on in the same evil ways, and are incorrigible. Then is not God merciful to the world in punishing them, even in destroying them out of the world, where they only do harm? The world does not want fools, it wants wise men. The world does not want bad men, it wants good men; and we ought to thank God, if, by His eternal laws, He gets rid of bad men for us; and, as the saying is, civilizes them off the face of the earth in the third or fourth generation. And God does so. If a family, or a class, or a whole nation becomes incorrigibly profligate, foolish, base, in three or four generations they will either die out or vanish. They will sink to the bottom of society, and become miserably poor, weak, and of no influence, and so unable to do harm to any but themselves. Whole families will sink thus, I have seen it; you may have seen it. Whole nations will sink thus; as the Jews sank in Ezekiel's time, and again in our Lord's time; and be conquered, trampled on, counted for nothing, because they were worth nothing. But now suppose, again, that the children, when their father's sins are visited on them, are NOT incorrigible. Suppose they are like the wise son of whom Ezekiel speaks, in the 14th verse, who seeth all his father's sins, and considereth, and doeth not such like--then has not God been merciful and kind to him in visiting his father's sins on him? He has. God is justified therein. His eternal laws of natural retribution, severe as they are, have worked in love and in mercy, if they have taught the young man the ruinousness, the deadliness of sin. Have the father's sins made the son poor? Then he learns not to make his children poor by his sin. Have his father's sins made him unhealthy? Then he learns not to injure his children's health. Have his father's sins kept him ignorant, or in anywise hindered his rise in life? Then he learns the value of a good education, and, perhaps, stints himself to give his children advantages which he had not himself--and, as sure as he does so, the family begins to rise again after its fall. This is no fancy, it is fact. You may see it. I have seen it, thank God. How some of the purest and noblest women, some of the ablest and most right-minded men, will spring from families, will be reared in households, where everything was against them--where there was everything to make them profligate, false, reckless, in a word--bad--except the grace of God, which was trying to make them good, and succeeded in making them good; and how, though they have felt the punishment of their parents' sins upon them in many ways during their whole life, yet that has been to them not a mere punishment, but a chastisement, a purifying medicine, a cross to be borne, which only stirred them up to greater watchfulness against sin, to greater earnestness in educating their children, to greater activity and energy in doing right, and giving their children the advantages which they had not themselves. And so were fulfilled in them two laws of God. The one which Ezekiel lays down--that the bad man's son who executes God's judgments and walks in God's statutes shall not die for the iniquity of his father, but surely live; and the other law which Moses lays down--that God shews mercy unto thousands of generations, as I believe it means--that is, to son after father, and son after father again, without end--as long as they love Him and keep His commandments. I do not, therefore, see that there is any real contradiction between what Moses says in the second commandment and what Ezekiel says in this chapter. They are but two different sides of the same truth; and Moses is shewing the Jews one side, because they needed most to be taught that in his time, and Ezekiel showing them the other, because that was the teaching which they needed most then. For they were fancying themselves, in their calamities, the victims of some blind and cruel fate, and had forgotten that, when God said that He visited the sins of the fathers on the children, He qualified it by saying, "of them that hate Me." Therefore, be hopeful about yourselves, and hopeful about your children after you. If any one here feels--I am fallen very low in the world-- here all has been so much against me--my parents were the ruin of me--Let him remember this one word of Ezekiel. "Have I any pleasure at all that the wicked should die? saith the Lord God: and not that he should return from his ways, and live?" Let him turn from his father's evil ways, and do that which is lawful and right, and then he can say with the Prophet, in answer to all the strokes of fortune and the miseries of circumstance, "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall I shall arise." Provided he will remember that God requires of all men something, which is, to be as good as they can be; then he may remember also that our Lord Himself says, "Unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required;" implying that to whom little is given, of him will little be required. God's ways are not unequal. He has one equal, fair, and just rule for every human being; and that is perfect understanding, perfect sympathy, perfect good will, and therefore perfect justice and perfect love. And if any one of you answers in his heart--these are good words, and all very well: but they come too late. I am too far gone. I ate the sour grapes in my youth, and my teeth must be on edge for ever and ever. I have been a bad man, or I have been a foolish woman too many years to mend now. I am down, and down I must be. I have made my bed, and I must lie on it, and die on it too. Oh my dear brother or sister in Christ, whoever you are who says that, unsay it again for it is not true. Ezekiel tells you that it is not true, and one greater than Ezekiel, Jesus Christ, your Saviour, your Lord, your God, tells you it is not true. For what happens, by God's eternal and unchangeable laws of retribution, to a whole nation, or a whole family, may happen to you--to each individual man. They fall by sin; they rise again by repentance and amendment. They may rise punished by their sins, and punished for a long time, heavily weighted by the consequences of their own folly, and heavily weighted for a long time. But they rise--they enter into their new life weak and wounded, from their own fault. But they enter in. And from that day things begin to mend--the weather begins to clear, the soil begins to yield again--punishment gradually ceases when it has done its work, the weight lightens, the wounds heal, the weakness strengthens, and by God's grace within them, and by God's providence outside them, they are made men of again, and saved. So you will surely find it in the experience of life. No doubt in general, in most cases, The child is father of the man for good and evil. A pious and virtuous youth helps, by sure laws of God, towards a pious and virtuous old age. And on the other hand, an ungodly and profligate youth leads, by the same laws, toward an ungodly and profligate old age. That is the law. But there is another law which may stop that law--just as the stone falls to the ground by the natural law of weight, and yet you may stop that law by using the law of bodily strength, and holding it up in your hand. And what is the gracious law which will save you from the terrible law which will make you go on from worse to worse? It is this,--"when the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive." It is not said that his soul shall come in a moment to perfect health and strength. No. There are old bad habits to be got rid of, old ties to be broken, old debts (often worse debts than any money debts) to be paid. But he shall save his soul alive. His soul shall not die of its disease. It shall be saved. It shall come to life, and gradually mend and be cured, and grow from strength to strength, as a sick man mends day by day after a deadly illness, slowly it may be, but surely:--for how can you fail of being cured if your physician is none other than Jesus Christ your Lord and your God? Oh, recollect that last word. If you will but recollect that, you will never despair. How dare any man say--Bad I am, and bad I must remain-- while the God who made heaven and earth offers to make you good? Who dare say,--I cannot amend--when God Himself offers to amend you? Who dare say,--I have no strength to amend--when God offers to give you strength, strength of His strength, and life of His life, even His Holy Spirit? Who dare say,--God has given me up; He has a grudge against me which He will not lay by, an anger against me which cannot be appeased, a score against me which will never be wiped out of His book? Oh foolish and faint-hearted soul. Look, look at Christ hanging on His cross, and see there what God's grudge, God's anger, God's score of your sins is like. Like love unspeakable, and nothing else. To wash out your sins, He spared not His only begotten Son, but freely gave Him for you, to shew you that God, so far from hating you, has loved you; that so far from being your enemy, He was your father; that so far from willing the death of a sinner, He willed that you and every sinner should turn from his wickedness and live. For that, Jesus the only begotten Son of God, came down and preached, and sorrowed, and suffered, and died upon the cross. He died that you may live; He suffered that you may be saved; He paid the debt, because you could never pay it; He bore your sins upon the cross, that you might not have to bear them for ever and for ever in eternal death. Now, even if you suffer somewhat in this life for your sins, that suffering is not punishment, but wholesome chastisement, as when a father chastens the son in whom he delighteth. All He asks of you is to long and try to give up your sins, for He will help you to give them up. All He asks of you is to long and try to lead a new life, for He will give you power to lead a new life. Oh, say not--I cannot--when Christ who died for you says you can. Say not--I dare not--when Christ bids you dare come boldly to His throne of grace. Say not--I must be as I am-- when Christ died that you should NOT be as you are. Say not--there is no hope--when Christ died and rose again, and reigns for ever, to give hope to you and all mankind, that when the wicked man turns away from his wickedness that he has committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive, and all his transgressions shall not be mentioned unto him, but in his righteousness that he hath done shall he live. SERMON XXVII. AGREE WITH THINE ADVERSARY Eversley, 1861. Windsor Castle, 1867. St. Matthew v. 25, 26. "Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing." This parable our Lord seems to have spoken at least twice, as He did several others. For we find it also in the 12th chapter of St. Luke. But it is there part of quite a different discourse. I think that by seeing what it means there, we shall see more clearly what it means here. Our Lord there is speaking of the sins of the whole Jewish nation. Here He is speaking rather of each man's private sins. But He applies the same parable to both. He gives the same warning to both. Not to go too far on the wrong road, lest they come to a point where they cannot turn back, but must go on to just punishment, if not to utter destruction. That is what He warned the Jews all through the latter part of the 12th chapter of Luke. He will come again, He says, at an hour they do not think of, and then if their elders, the Scribes and Pharisees, are going on as they are now, beating the man-servants and maid-servants, and eating and drinking with the drunken, oppressing the people, and living in luxury and profligacy, He will cut them asunder, and appoint them their portion with the unbelievers. In this, and in many other parables, He had been warning them that their ruin was near; and, at last, turning to the whole crowd, He appeals to them, to their common sense. "When ye see a cloud rise out of the west, straightway ye say, There cometh a shower; and so it is. And when ye see the south wind blow, ye say, There will be heat; and it cometh to pass. Ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky and of the earth; but how is it that ye do not discern this time?" If God can give you common sense about one thing, why not about another? Why can you not open your eyes and of yourselves judge what is right? "Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing." So He spoke; and they did not fully understand what He meant. They thought that by their adversary He meant the Roman governor. For they immediately began to talk to Him about some Galileans whose blood Pilate, the Roman governor, had mingled with their sacrifices (I suppose in some of those wars which were continually breaking out in Judea). I think He meant more than that. "Suppose ye that these Galilaeans were sinners above all the Galilaeans? Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." As much as to say, though ye did not rebel against the Romans like these Galilaeans, you have your sins, which will ruin YOU. As long as you are hypocrites, with your mouths full of the cant of religion, and your hearts full of all mean and spiteful passions; as long as you cannot of yourselves discern what is right, and have lost conscience, and the everlasting distinction between right and wrong, so long are you walking blindfold to ruin. There is an adversary against you, who will surely deliver you to the judge some day, and then it will be too late to cry for mercy. And who was that adversary? Who but the everlasting law of God, which says, Thou shalt do justly?--and you Jews are utterly unjust, false, covetous, and unrighteous. Thou shalt love all men; and you are cruel and spiteful, hating each other, and making all mankind hate you. Thou shalt walk humbly with thy God; and you Jews are walking proudly with God; fancying that God belongs only to you; that because you are His chosen people, He will let you commit every sin you choose, as long as you keep His name on your lips, and keep up an empty worship of Him in the temple. That is your adversary, the everlasting moral law of God. And who is the Judge but God Himself, who is set on His throne judging right, while you are doing wrong? And who is the officer, to whom that judge will deliver you? There indeed the Jews were right. It was the Romans whom God appointed to punish them for their sins. All which our Lord had foretold, as all the world knows, came true forty years after in that horrible siege of Jerusalem, which the Jews brought on themselves entirely by their own folly, and pride, and wicked lawlessness. In that siege, by famine and pestilence, by the Romans' swords, by crucifixion, and by each other's hands (for the different factions were murdering each other wholesale up to the very day Jerusalem was taken), thousands of Jews perished horribly, and the rest were sold as slaves over the face of the whole earth, and led away into a captivity from which they could not escape till they had paid the uttermost farthing. Now let us look at this same parable in the 5th chapter of St Matthew. Remember first that it is part of the sermon on the Mount, which is all about not doctrine, but morality, the law of right and wrong, the law of justice and mercy. You will see then that our Lord is preaching against the same sins as in the 12th chapter of St. Luke. Against a hypocritical religion, joined with a cruel and unjust heart. Those of old time, the Scribes and Pharisees, said merely, Thou shalt not kill. And as long as thou dost not kill thy brother, thou mayest hate him in thy heart and speak evil of him with thy lips. But our Lord says, Not so. Whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause is in danger of the judgment. Whosoever shall say to him Raca, or worthless fellow, shall speak insolently, brutally, cruelly, scornfully to him, is in danger of the council. But whosoever shall say unto him, Thou fool, is in danger of hell fire. For using that word to the Jews, so says the Talmudic tradition, Moses and Aaron were shut out of the land of promise, for it means an infidel, an atheist, a godless man, or rebel against God, as it is written, "The fool hath said in his heart there is no God." Whosoever shall curse his brother, who is trying to be a good Christian man to the best of his light and power, because he does not happen to agree with him in all things, and call him a heretic, and an infidel, and an atheist, and an enemy of God--he is in danger of hell fire. Let him agree with his adversary quickly, whiles he is in the way with him, lest he be delivered to God the judge, and to the just punishment of him who has not done justly, not loved mercy, not walked humbly with his God. But who is the adversary of that man, and who is the judge, and who is the officer? Our adversary in every case, whenever we do wrong, knowingly or unknowingly, is the Law of God, the everlasting laws, by which God has ordered every thing in heaven and earth; and as often as we break one of these laws, let us agree with it again as quickly as we can, lest it hale us before God, the judge of all, and He deliver us over to His officer--to those powers of nature and powers of spirit, which He has appointed as ministers of His vengeance, and they cast us into some prison of necessary and unavoidable misery, from which we shall never escape till we have paid the uttermost farthing. Do you not understand me? Then I will give you an example. Suppose the case of a man hurting his health by self-indulgence of any kind. Then his adversaries are the laws of health. Let him agree with them quickly, while he has the power of conquering his bad habits, by recovering his health, lest the time come when his own sins deliver him up to God his judge; and God to His terrible officers of punishment, the laws of Disease; and they cast him into a prison of shame and misery from which there is no escape--shame and misery, most common perhaps among the lower classes: but not altogether confined to them--the weakened body, the bleared eye, the stupified brain, the premature death, the children unhealthy from their parents' sins, despising their parents, and perhaps copying their vices at the same time. Many a man have I seen in that prison, fast bound with misery though not with iron, and how he was to pay his debt and escape out of it I know not, though I hope that God does know. Are any of you, again, in the habit of cheating your neighbours, or dealing unfairly by them? Your adversary is the everlasting law of justice, which says, Do as you would be done by, for with what measure you mete to others, it shall be measured to you again. This may show you how a bodily sin, like self-indulgence punishes itself by bringing a man into bondage of bodily misery, from which he cannot escape; and in the same way a spiritual sin, like want of charity, will bring a man into spiritual bondage from which he cannot escape. And this, as in bodily sins, it will do by virtue of that mysterious and terrible officer of God, which we call Habit. Habit, by which, we cannot tell how, our having done a thing once becomes a reason for our doing it again, and again after that, till, if the habit be once formed, we cannot help doing that thing, and become enslaved to it, and fast bound by it, in a prison from which there is no escape. Look for instance at the case of the untruthful man. Let him beware in time. Who is his adversary? Facts are his adversary. He says one thing, and Fact says another, and a very stubborn and terrible adversary Fact is. The day will come, most probably in this life, when Facts will bring that untruthful man before God and before men likewise--and cry,--Judge between us which of us is right; and there will come to that false man exposure and shame, and a worse punishment still, perhaps, if he have let the habit grow too strong on him, and have not agreed with his adversary in time. For have you not seen (alas, you have too surely seen) men who had contracted such a habit of falsehood that they could not shake it off-- who had played with their sense of truth so long that they had almost forgotten what truth meant; men who could not speak without mystery, concealment, prevarication, half-statements; who were afraid of the plain truth, not because there was any present prospect of its hurting them, but simply because it was the plain truth--children of darkness, who, from long habit, hated the light--and who, though they had been found out and exposed, could not amend--could not become simple, honest, and truthful--could not escape from the prison of their own bad habits, and the net of lies which they had spread round their own path, till they had paid the uttermost penalty for their deceit? Look, again, at the case of the uncharitable man, in the habit of forming harsh and cruel judgments of his neighbours. Then his adversary is the everlasting law of Love, which will surely at last punish him, by the most terrible of all punishments--loss of love to man, and therefore to God. Are we not (I am, I know, may God forgive me for it) apt to be angry with our brethren without a cause, out of mere peevishness? Let us beware in time. Are we not apt to say to them "Raca"--to speak cruelly, contemptuously, fiercely of them, if they thwart us? Let us beware in time still more. Are we not worst of all, tempted (as I too often am) to say to them "Thou fool;" to call better men, more useful men more pure men, more pious men than ourselves, hard and cruel names, names from which they would shrink with horror because they cannot see Christian truth in just exactly the same light that we do? Oh! let us beware then. Beware lest the everlasting laws of justice and fairness between man and man, of love and charity between man and man, which we have broken, should some day deliver us up, as they delivered those bigoted Jews of old to God our Judge, and He deliver our souls to His most terrible officers, who are called envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness; and they thrust us into that blackest of all prisons, on the gate of which is written, Hardness of heart, and Contempt of God's Word and commandments, and within which is the outer darkness into which if a man falls, he cannot see the difference between right and wrong: but calls evil good, and good evil, like his companions in the outer darkness-- namely, the devil and his angels. Oh! let us who are coming to lay our gift upon God's altar at this approaching Christmas tide, consider whether our brother hath aught against us in any of these matters, and, if so, let us leave our gift upon the altar, and be first reconciled to our brother, in heart at least, and with inward shame, and confession, and contrition, and resolution to amend. But we can only do that by recollecting what gift we are to leave on Christ's altar,--that it is the gift of SELF, the sacrifice of ourselves, with all our selfishness, pride, conceit, spite, cruelty. Ourselves, with all our sins, we are to lay upon Christ's altar, that our sins may be nailed to His cross, and washed clean in His blood, everlastingly consumed in the fire of His Spirit, the pure spirit of love, which is the Charity of God, that so, self being purged out of us, we may become holy and lively sacrifices to God, parts and parcels of that perfect sacrifice which Christ offered up for the sins of the whole world--even the sacrifice of Himself. SERMON XXVIII. ST JOHN THE BAPTIST Chester Cathedral. 1872. St Luke iii. 2, 3, 7, 9-14. "The Word of God came unto John the son of Zacharias in the wilderness. And he came into all the country about Jordan, preaching the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins. . . . Then said he to the multitude that came forth to be baptized of him, O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bring forth therefore fruits worthy of repentance. . . . And now also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees: every tree therefore that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire. And the people asked him saying, What shall we do then? He answereth and saith unto them, He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise. Then came also publicans to be baptized unto them, and said unto him, Master, what shall we do? And he said, Exact no more than that which is appointed you. And the soldiers likewise demanded of him, saying, And what shall we do? And he said unto them, Do violence to no man, neither accuse any falsely, and be content with your wages." This is St John Baptist's day. Let me say a very few words--where many might be said--about one of the noblest personages who ever has appeared on this earth. Our blessed Lord said, "Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist, notwithstanding, he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he." These are serious words; for which of us dare to say that we are greater than John the Baptist? But let us at least think a while what John the Baptist was like. So we shall gain at least the sight of an ideal man. It is not the highest ideal. Our Lord tells us that plainly; and we, as Christians, should know that it is not. The ideal man is our Lord Christ Himself, and none other. Still, he that has not mounted the lower step of the heavenly stair, has certainly not mounted the higher; and therefore, if we have not attained to the likeness of John the Baptist, still more, we have not attained to the likeness of Christ. What, then, was John the Baptist like? What picture of him and his character can we form to ourselves in our own imaginations? for that is all we have to picture him by--helped-- always remember that--by the Holy Spirit of God, who helps the imagination, the poetic and dramatic faculty of men; just as much as He helps the logical and argumentative faculty to see things and men as they really are, by the spirit of love, which also is the spirit of true understanding. How, then, shall we picture John the Baptist to ourselves? Great painters, greater than the world seems likely to see again, have exercised their fancy upon his face, his figure, his actions. We must put out of our minds, I fear, at once, many of the loveliest of them all: those in which Raffaelle and others have depicted the child John, in his camel's hair raiment, with a child's cross in his hand, worshipping the infant Christ. There is also one exquisite picture, by Annibale Caracci, if I recollect rightly, in which the blessed babe is lying asleep, and the blessed Virgin signs to St John, pressing forward to adore him, not to awaken his sleeping Lord and God. But such imaginations, beautiful as they are, and true in a heavenly and spiritual sense, which therefore is true eternally for you, and me, and all mankind, are not historic fact. For St John the Baptist said himself, "and I knew him not." He may have been, we must almost say, he must have been, brought up with or near our Lord. He may have seen in Him such a child (we must believe that), as he never saw before. He knew Him at least to be a princely child, of David's royal line. But he was not conscious of who and what He was, till the mysterious inner voice, of whom he gives only the darkest hints, said to him, "Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending, and remaining on Him, the same is He which baptizeth with the Holy Ghost. And I saw and bare record that this is the Son of God." But what manner of man was St John the Baptist in the meantime? Painters have tried their hands at drawing him, and we thank them. Pictures, says St Augustine, are the books of the unlearned. And, my friends, when great painters paint, they are the books of the too-learned likewise. They bring us back, bring us home, by one glance at a human face, a human figure, a human scene of action, out of our philosophies, and criticisms, and doctrines, which narrow our hearts, without widening our heads, to the deeper facts of humanity, and therefore to the deeper facts of theology likewise. But what picture of St John the Baptist shall we choose whereby to represent him to ourselves, as the forerunner of the incarnate God? The best which I can recollect is the great picture by Guido--ah, that he had painted always as wisely and as well--of the magnificent lad sitting on the rock, half clad in his camel's hair robe, his stalwart hand lifted up to denounce he hardly knows what, save that things are going all wrong, utterly wrong to him; his beautiful mouth open to preach, he hardly knows what, save that he has a message from God, of which he is half-conscious as yet--that he is a forerunner, a prophet, a foreteller of something and some one which is to come, and which yet is very near at hand. The wild rocks are round him, the clear sky is over him, and nothing more. He, the gentleman born, the clergyman born--for you must recollect who and what St John the Baptist was, and that he was neither democrat nor vulgar demagogue, nor flatterer of ignorant mobs, but a man of an ancestry as ancient and illustrious as it was civilised, and bound by long ties of duty, of patriotism, of religion, and of the temple worship of God:--he, the noble and the priest, has thrown off--not in discontent and desperation, but in hope and awe--all his family privileges, all that seems to make life worth having; and there aloft and in the mountains, alone with nature and with God, feeding on locusts and wild honey and whatsoever God shall send, and clothed in skins, he, like Elijah of old, renews not merely the habits, but the spirit and power of Elijah, and preaches to a generation sunk in covetousness and superstition, party spirit, and the rest of the seven devils which brought on the fall of his native land, and which will bring on the fall of every land on earth, preaches to them, I say--What? The most common, let me say boldly, the most vulgar--in the good old sense of the word--the most vulgar morality. He tells them that an awful ruin was coming unless they repented and mended. How fearfully true his words were, the next fifty years proved. The axe, he said, was laid to the root of the tree; and the axe was the heathen Roman, even then master of the land. But God, not the Roman Caesar merely, was laying the axe. And He was a good God, who only wanted goodness, which He would preserve; not badness, which He would destroy. Therefore men must not merely repent and do penance, they must bring forth fruits meet for penance; do right instead of doing wrong, lest they be found barren trees, and be cut down, and cast into that everlasting fire of God, which, thanks be to His Holy name, burns for ever--unquenchable by all men's politics, and systems, and political or other economies, to destroy out of God's Kingdom all that offendeth and whatsoever loveth and maketh a lie-- oppressors, quacks, cheats, hypocrites, and the rest. The people--the farming class--came to him with "What shall we do?" The young priest and nobleman, in his garment of camel's hair, has nothing but plain morality for them. "He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise." The publicans, the renegades, who were farming the taxes of the Roman conquerors, and making their base profit out of their countrymen's slavery, came to him,--"Master, what shall we do?" He does not tell them not to be publicans. He does not tell his countrymen to rebel, though he must have been sorely tempted to do it. All he says is, Make the bad and base arrangement as good as you can; exact no more than that which is appointed you. The soldiers, poor fellows, come to him. Whether they were Herod's mercenaries, or real gallant Roman soldiers, we are not told. Either had unlimited power under a military despotism, in an anarchic and half-enslaved country; but whichever they were, he has the same answer to them of common morality. You are what you are; you are where you are. Do it as well as you can. Do no violence to any man, neither accuse any man falsely, and be content with your wages. Ah, wise politician, ah, clear and rational spirit, who knows and tells others to do the duty which lies nearest them; who sees (as old Greek Hesiod says), how much bigger the half is than the whole; who, in the hour of his country's deepest degradation, had divine courage to say, our deliverance lies, not in rebellion, but in doing right. But he has sterner words. Pharisees, the separatists, the religious men, who think themselves holier than any one else; and Sadducees, materialist men of the world, who sneer at the unseen, the unknown, the heroic, come to him. And for Pharisee and Sadducee--for the man who prides himself on believing more than his neighbours, and for the man who prides himself on believing less--he has the same answer. Both are exclusives, inhuman, while they are pretending to be more than human. He knew them well, for he was born and bred among them, and he forestalls our Lord's words to them, "O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come?" At last his preaching of common morality is put to the highest test. The king--the tyrant as we should call him--the Herod of the day, an usurper, neither a son of David, nor a king chosen by the people, tries to patronize him. The old spirit of his forefather Aaron, of his forefather Phineas, the spirit of Levi, which (rightly understood), is the Spirit of God, flashes up in the young priestly prophet, in the old form of common morality. "It is not lawful for thee to have thy brother's wife." We know the rest; how, at the request of Herodias' daughter, Herod sent and beheaded John in prison, and how she took his head in a charger and brought it to her mother. Great painters have shown us again and again the last act--outwardly hideous, but really beautiful--of St John's heroic drama, in a picture of the lovely dancing girl with the prophet's head in a charger--a dreadful picture; and yet one which needed to be painted, for it was a terrible fact, and is still, and will be till this wicked world's end, a matter for pity and tears rather than for indignation. The most perfect representations, certainly the most tragical I know of it, are those which are remarkable, not for their expression, but for their want of expression--the young girl in brocade and jewels, with the gory head in her hands, thinking of nothing out of those wide vacant foolish eyes, save the triumph of self-satisfied vanity; for the spite and revenge is not in her, but in her wicked mother. She is just the very creature, who, if she had been better trained, and taught what John the Baptist really was, might have reverenced him, worshipped him, and ministered unto him. Alas! alas! how do the follies of poor humanity repeat themselves in every age. The butterfly has killed the lion, without after all meaning much harm. Ah, that such human butterflies would take warning by the fate of Herodias' daughter, and see how mere vanity will lead, if indulged too long and too freely, to awful crime. One knows the old stories,--how Herod, and Herodias, and the vain foolish girl fell into disgrace with the Emperor, and were banished into Provence, and died in want and misery. One knows too the old legends, how Herodias' daughter reappears in South Europe--even in old German legends--as the witch-goddess, fair and ruinous, sweeping for ever through wood and wold at night with her troop of fiends, tempting the traveller to dance with them till he dies; a name for ever accursed through its own vanity rather than its own deliberate sin, from which may God preserve us all, men as well as women. So two women, one wicked and one vain, did all they could to destroy one of the noblest human beings who ever walked this earth. And what did they do? They did not prevent his being the forerunner and prophet of the incarnate Son of God. They did not prevent his being the master and teacher of the blessed Apostle St John, who was his spiritual son and heir. They did not prevent his teaching all men and women, to whom God gives grace to understand him, that the true repentance, the true conversion, the true deliverance from the wrath to come, the true entrance into the kingdom of heaven, the true way to Christ and to God, is common morality. And now let us bless God's holy name for all His servants departed in His faith and fear, and especially for His servant St John the Baptist, beseeching Him to give us grace, so to follow his doctrine and holy life, that we may truly repent after his preaching and after his example. May the Lord forgive our exceeding cowardice, and help us constantly to speak the truth, boldly rebuke vice, and patiently suffer for the truth's sake; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. SERMON XXIX. THE PRESENT RECOMPENSE Chester Cathedral, Nave Service, Evening. May 1872. Proverbs xi. 31. "Behold, the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth: much more the wicked and the sinner." This is the key-note of the Book of Proverbs--that men are punished or rewarded according to their deeds in this life; nay, it is the key-note of the whole Old Testament. "The eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and His ears are open unto their prayers; the countenance of the Lord is against them that do evil, to root out the remembrance of them from the earth." But here, at the beginning of my sermon, I can fancy some one ready to cry--Stay! you have spoken too strongly. That is not the key-note of the whole Old Testament. There are words in it of quite a different note-- words which complain to God that the good are not rewarded, and the wicked are not punished: as for instance, when the Psalmist says how the ungodly men of this evil world are filled with God's hid treasure, and how they have children at their desire, and leave the rest of their substance for their babes. And again, "I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. For there are no bands in their death; but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other men; neither are they plagued like other men. . . . They set their mouth against the heavens, and their tongue walketh through the earth. Therefore his people return hither; and waters of a full cup are wrung out to them. And they say, How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the most High?" And though the Psalmist says that such persons will come to a sudden and fearful end, yet he confesses that so long as they live they have prospered, while he had been punished all day long, and chastened every morning. And do we not know that so it is? Is it not obvious now, and has it not been notorious in every country, and in all times, that so it is? Do not good men often lead lives of poverty and affliction? Do not men make large fortunes, or rise to fame and power, by base and wicked means? and do not those same men often enough die in their beds, and leave children behind them, and found families, who prosper for generations after they are dead? How were they recompensed in the earth? Now this is one of the puzzles of life, which tries a man's faith in God, as it tried the psalmists and prophets in old time. But that the text speaks truth I do not doubt. I believe that the prosperous bad man is recompensed in the earth--is punished in this life- -often with the most terrible of all punishments--Impunity; the not being punished at all; which is the worst thing in this life which can happen to a sinner. But I am not going to speak of that, but rather of the first part of the text, "The righteous shall be recompensed in the earth." Now is not the answer to the puzzle this: That God is impartial; that He is no respecter of persons, but causing His sun to shine on the evil and on the good, and His rain to fall on the just and on the unjust; and so rewarding every man according to his work, paying him for all work done, of whatever kind it may be? Some work for this world, which we do see, and God gives them what they earn in this life; some work for the world above, which we cannot see, and God gives them what they earn in this life, for ever and ever likewise. If a man wishes for treasure on earth, he can have it if he will, and enjoy it as long as it lasts. If a man wishes for treasure in heaven, he can have it if he will, and enjoy it as long as it lasts. God deals fairly with both, and pays both what they have earned. Some set their hearts on this world; some want money, some want power, some want fame and admiration from their fellow-men, some want merely to amuse themselves. Then they will have what they want if they will take the right way to get it. If a man wishes to make a large fortune, and die rich, he will very probably succeed, if he will only follow diligently the laws and rules by which God has appointed that money should be made. If a man longs for power and glory, and must needs be admired and obeyed by his fellow-men, he can have his wish, if he will go the right way to get what he longs for; especially in a free country like this, he will get most probably just as much of them as he deserves--that is, as much as he has talent and knowledge enough to earn. So did the Pharisees in our Lord's time. They wanted power, fame, and money as religious leaders, and they knew how to get them as well as any men who ever lived; and they got them. Our Lord did not deny that. They had their reward, He said. They succeeded--those old Pharisees--in being looked up to as the masters of the Jewish mob, and in crucifying our Lord Himself. They had their reward; and so may you and I. If we want any earthly thing, and have knowledge of the way to get it, and have ability and perseverance enough, then we shall very probably get it, and much good it will do us when we have got it after all. We shall have had our treasure upon earth and our hearts likewise; and when we come to die we shall leave both our treasure and our hearts behind us, and the Lord have mercy on our souls. But again, there are those, thank God, who have, or are at least trying to get, treasure in heaven, which they may carry away with them when they die, and keep for ever. And who are they? Those who are longing and trying to be true and to be good; who have seen how beautiful it is to be true and to be good; to know God and the will of God; to love God and the will of God; and therefore to copy His likeness and to do His will. Those who long for sanctification, and who desire to be holy, even as their Father in heaven is holy, and perfect, even as their Father in heaven is perfect; and who therefore think, as St Paul bade them, of whatsoever things are just, true, pure, lovely, and of good report, if there be any true manhood, and if there be any just praise--in three words--who seek after whatsoever is true, beautiful, and good. These are they that have treasure in heaven. For what is really true, really beautiful, really good, is also really heavenly. God alone is perfect, good, beautiful, and true; and heaven is heaven because it is filled with the glory of His goodness, His beauty, and His truth. But wherever there is a soul on earth led by the Spirit of God, and filled by the Spirit of God with good and beautiful and true graces and inspirations, there is a soul which, as St Paul says, is sitting in heavenly places with Christ Jesus--a soul which is already in heaven though still on earth. We confess it by our own words. We speak of a heavenly character; we speak even of a heavenly countenance; and we speak right. We see that that character, though it be still imperfect, and marred by human weaknesses, is already good with the goodness which comes down from heaven; and that that countenance, though it may be mean and plain, is already beautiful with the beauty which comes down from heaven. But how are such souls recompensed in the earth? Oh! my friends, is not a man recompensed in the earth whenever he can lift up his heart above the earth?--whenever he can lift up his heart unto the Lord, and behold His glory above all the earth? Does not this earth look brighter to him then? The world of man looks brighter to him, in spite of all its sins and sorrows, for he sees the Lord ruling it, the Lord forgiving it, the Lord saving it. He sees, by the eye of faith, the Lord fulfilling His own promise--"where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them"; and he takes heart and hope for the poor earth, and says, The earth is not deserted; mankind is not without a Father, a Saviour, a Teacher, a King. Bad men and bad spirits are not the masters of the world; and men are not as creeping things, as the fishes of the sea, which have no ruler over them. For Christ has not left His church. He reigns, and will reign, till He has put all enemies under His feet, and cast out of His kingdom all that offend, and whatsoever loveth and maketh a lie; and then the heavenly treasure will be the only treasure; for whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are true, pure, lovely, and of good report, if there be any valour, and if there be any praise, those things, and they alone, will be left in the kingdom of Christ and of God. Is not that man recompensed in the earth? Must he not rise each morning to go about his daily work with a more cheerful heart, saying, with Jeremiah, in like case, "Upon this I awaked, and beheld, and my sleep was sweet to me?" Yes, I see in experience that the righteous man is recompensed in the earth, every day, and all day long. In proportion as a man's mind is heavenly, just so much will he enjoy this beautiful earth, and all that is therein. I believe that if a man walks with God, then he can walk nowhither without seeing and hearing what the ungodly and bad man will never see and hear, because his eyes are blinded, and his heart hardened from thinking of himself, his own selfish wants, his own selfish sins. Which, for instance, was the happier man--which the man who was the more recompensed in the earth this very day--the poor man who went for his Sunday walk into the country, thinking of little but the sins and the follies of the week past, and probably of the sins and the follies of the week to come; or the man who went with a clear conscience, and had the heart to thank God for the green grass, and the shining river, and the misty mountains sleeping far away, and notice the song of the birds, and the scent of the flowers, as a little child might do, and know that his Father in heaven had made all these? Yes, my friends, Christ is very near us, though our eyes are holden by our own sins, and therefore we see Him not. But just in proportion as a man walks with God, just in proportion as the eyes of his soul are opened by the Spirit of God, he recovers, I believe, the privilege which Adam lost when he fell. He hears the Word of the Lord walking among the trees of the garden in the cool of the day; and instead of trying, like guilty Adam, to hide himself from his Maker, answers, with reverence and yet with joy, Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth. Nay, I would go further still, and say, Is not the righteous man recompensed on the earth every time he hears a strain of noble music? To him who has his treasure in heaven, music speaks about that treasure things far too deep for words. Music speaks to him of whatsoever is just, true, pure, lovely, and of good report, of whatsoever is manful and ennobling, of whatsoever is worthy of praise and honour. Music, to that man, speaks of a divine order and a divine proportion; of a divine harmony, through all the discords and confusions of men; of a divine melody, through all the cries and groans of sin and sorrow. What says a wiser and a better man than I shall ever be, and that not of noble music, but of such as we may hear any day in any street? "Even that vulgar music," he says, "which makes one man merry, another mad, strikes in me a deep fit of devotion, and a profound contemplation of God, the first composer. There is something more of divinity in it than the ear discovers. It is an hieroglyphical and shadowed lesson of the whole world, and of the creatures of God. Such a melody to the ear as the whole world, well understood, would afford to the understanding." That man, I insist, was indeed recompensed on the earth, when music, which is to the ungodly and unrighteous the most earthly of all arts, which to the heathens and the savages, to frivolous and profligate persons, only tempts to silly excitement or to brutal passion, was to him as the speech of angels, a remembrancer to him of that eternal and ever-present heaven, from which all beauty, truth, and goodness are shed forth over the universe, from the glory of the ever-blessed Trinity--Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Does any one say--These things are too high for me; I cannot understand them? My dear friends, are they not too high for me likewise? Do you fancy that I understand them, though my reason, as well as Holy Scripture, tells me that they are true? I understand them no more than I understand how I draw a single breath, or think a single thought. But it is good for you, and for me, and for every man, now and then, to hear things which we do NOT understand; that so we may learn our own ignorance, and be lifted up above ourselves, and renounce our fancied worldly wisdom, and think within ourselves:--Would it not be wiser to confess ourselves fools, and take our Lord's advice, and be converted, and become as little children? For otherwise, our Lord says, we shall in nowise enter into this very kingdom of heaven of which I have been telling you. For this is one of the things which God hides from the wise and prudent, and yet revealeth unto babes. Yes, that is the way to understand all things, however deep--to become as little children. A little child proves that all I say is true, and that it knows that all I say is true. Though it cannot put its feelings into words, it acts on them by a mere instinct, which is the gift of God. Why does a little child pick flowers? Why does a little child dance when it hears a strain of music? And deeper still, why does a little child know when it has done wrong? Why does it love to hear of things beautiful and noble, and shrink from things foul and mean, if what I say is not true? The child does so, because it is nearer heaven, not further off, than we grown folk. Ah! that we would all lay to heart what one said of old, who walked with God:-- "Dear soul, could'st thou become a child, Once more on earth, meek, undefiled, Then Paradise were round thee here, And God Himself for ever near." SERMON XXX. THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN Chapel Royal, St James'. 1873. St. Matt. xxii. 2-7. "The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king, which made a marriage for his son, and sent forth his servants to call them that were bidden to the wedding: and they would not come. Again, he sent forth other servants, saying, Tell them which are bidden, Behold, I have prepared my dinner: my oxen and fatlings are killed, and all things are ready: come unto the marriage. But they made light of it, and went their ways, one to his farm, another to his merchandise: And the remnant took his servants, and entreated them spitefully, and slew them. But when the king heard thereof, he was wroth: and he sent forth his armies, and destroyed those murderers, and burned up their city." This parable, if we understand it aright, will help to teach us theology- -that is, the knowledge of God, and of the character of God. For it is a parable concerning the kingdom of heaven, and the laws and customs of the kingdom of heaven--that is, the spiritual and eternal laws by which God governs men. Now, what any kingdom or government is like must needs depend on what the king or governor of it is like; at least if that king is all-powerful, and can do what he likes. His laws will be like his character. If he be good, he will make good laws. If he be bad, he will make bad laws. If he be harsh and cruel--if he be careless and indulgent--so will his laws be. If he be loving and generous, delighting in seeing his subjects happy, then his laws will be so shaped that his subjects will be happy, if they obey those laws. But also--and this is a very serious matter, and one to which foolish people in all ages have tried to shut their eyes, and false preachers in all ages have tried to blind men's eyes-- also, I say, if his laws be good, and bountiful, and sure to make men happy, then the good king will have those laws obeyed. He will not be an indulgent king, for in his case to be indulgent will be cruelty, and nothing less. The good king will not say,--I have given you laws by which you may live happy; but I do not care whether you obey them or not. I have, as it were, set you up, in life, and given you advantages by which you may prosper if you use them; but I do not care whether you use them or not. For to say that would be as much as to say that I do not care if you make yourselves miserable, and make others miserable likewise. The good king will say,--You shall obey my laws, for they are for your good. You shall use my gifts, for they are for your good. And if you do not, I will punish you. You shall respect my authority. And if you do not--if you go too far, if you become wanton and cruel, and destroy your fellow-subjects unjustly off the face of the earth; then I will destroy you off the face of he earth, and burn up your city. I will destroy any government or system of society which you set up in opposition to my good and just laws. And if you merely despise the gifts, and refuse to use them--then I will cast you out of my kingdom, inside which is freedom and happiness, and light and knowledge, into the darkness outside, bound hand and foot, into the ignorance and brutal slavery which you have chosen, where you may reconsider yourself, weeping and gnashing your teeth as you discover what a fool you have been. Our Lord's parable has fulfilled itself again and again in history, and will fulfil itself as long as foolish and rebellious persons exist on earth. This is one of the laws of the kingdom of heaven. It must be so, for it arises by necessity out of the character of Christ, the king of heaven.--Infinite bounty and generosity; but if that bounty be despised and insulted, or still more, if it be outraged by wanton tyranny or cruelty, then--for the benefit of the rest of mankind--awful severity. So it is, and so it must be; simply because God is good. At least, this is the kind of king which the parable shows to us. The king in it begins, not by asking his subjects to pay him taxes, or even to do him service, but to come to a great feast--a high court ceremonial- -the marriage of his son. Whatsoever else that may mean, it certainly means this--that the king intended to treat these men, not as his slaves, but as his guests and friends. They will not come. They are too busy; one over his farm, another over his merchandise. They owe, remember, safe possession of their farm, and safe transit for their merchandise, to the king, who governs and guards the land. But they forget that, and refuse his invitation. Some of them, seemingly out of mere insolence, and the spirit of rebellion against authority, just because it is authority, go a step too far. To show that they are their own masters, and intend to do what they like, they take the king's messengers, and treat them spitefully, and kill them. Then there arises in that king a noble indignation. We do not read that the king sentimentalised over these rebels, and said,--"After all, their evil, like all evil, is only a lower form of good. They had a fine instinct of freedom and independence latent in them, only it was in this case somewhat perverted. They are really only to be pitied for knowing no better; but I trust, by careful education, to bring them to a clearer sense of their own interests. I shall therefore send them to a reformatory, where, in consideration of the depressing circumstances of their imprisonment, they will be better looked after, and have lighter work, than the average of my honest and peaceable subjects." If the king had spoken thus, he would have won high applause in these days; at least till the farms and the merchandise, the property and the profits of the rest of his subjects, were endangered by these favoured objects of his philanthropy; who, having found that rebellion and even murder was pardonable in one case, would naturally try whether it was not pardonable in other cases likewise. But what we read of the king--and we must really remember, in fear and trembling, who spoke this parable, even our Lord Himself,--is this--He sent forth his armies, soldiers, men disciplined to do their duty at all risks, and sworn to carry out the law, and destroyed those murderers, and burned up their city. Yes, the king was very angry, as he had a right to be. Yes, let us lay that to heart, and tremble, from the very worst of us all to the very best of us all. There is an anger in God. There is indignation in God. Our highest reason ought to tell us that there must be anger in God, as long as sin and wrong exist in any corner of the universe. For all that is good in man is of the likeness of God. And is it not a good feeling, a noble feeling, in man, to be indignant, or to cry for vengeance on the offender, whenever we hear of cruelty, injustice, or violence? Is that not noble? I say it is. I say that the man whose heart does not burn within him at the sight of tyranny and cruelty, of baseness and deceit, who is not ready to say, Take him, and do to him as he has done to others; that man's heart is not right with God, or with man either. His moral sense is stunted. He is on the way to become, first, if he can, a tyrant, and then a slave. And shall there be no noble indignation in God when He beholds all the wrong which is done on earth? Shall the just and holy God look on carelessly and satisfied at injustice and unholiness which vexes even poor sinful man? God forbid! To think that, would, to my mind, be to fancy God less just, less merciful, than man. And if any one says, Anger is a passion, a suffering from something outside oneself, and God can have no passions; God cannot be moved by the sins and follies of such paltry atoms as we human beings are: the answer is, Man's anger--even just anger--is, too often, a passion; weak-minded persons, ill-educated persons, especially when they get together in mobs, and excite each other, are carried away when they hear even a false report of cruelty or injustice, by their really wholesome indignation, and say and do foolish, and cruel, and unjust things, the victims of their own passion. But even among men, the wiser a man is, the purer, the stronger-minded, so much the more can he control his indignation, and not let it rise into passion, but punish the offender calmly, though sternly, according to law. Even so, our reason bids us believe, does God, who does all things by law. His eternal laws punish of themselves, just as they reward of themselves. The same law of God may be the messenger of His anger to the bad, while it is the messenger of His love to the good. For God has not only no passions, but no parts; and therefore His anger and His love are not different, but the same. And His love is His anger, and His anger is His love. An awful thought and yet a blessed thought. Think of it, my friends-- think of it day and night. Under God's anger, or under God's love, we must be, whether we will or not. We cannot flee from His presence. We cannot go from His spirit. If we are loving, and so rise up to heaven, God is there--in love. If we are cruel, and wrathful, and so go down to hell, God is there also--in wrath: with the clean He will be clean, with the froward man He will be froward. In God we live and move, and have our being. On us, and on us alone, it depends, what sort of a life we shall live, and whether our being shall be happy or miserable. On us, and on us alone, it depends, whether we shall live under God's anger, or live under God's love. On us, and on us alone, it depends whether the eternal and unchangeable God shall be to us a consuming fire, or light, and life, and bliss for evermore. We never had more need to think of this than now; for there has spread over the greater part of the civilised world a strong spirit of disbelief in the living God. Men do not believe that God punishes sin and wrong- doing, either in this world or in the world to come. And it is not confined to those who are called infidels, who disbelieve in the incarnation and kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ. Would to God it were so! Everywhere we find Christians of all creeds and denominations alike, holding the very same ruinous notion, and saying to themselves, God does not govern this present world. God does not punish or reward in this present life. This world is all wrong, and the devil's world, and therefore I cannot prosper in the world unless I am a little wrong likewise, and do a little of the devil's work. So one lies, another cheats, another oppresses, another neglects his plainest social duties, another defiles himself with base political or religious intrigues, another breaks the seventh commandment, or, indeed, any and every one of the commandments which he finds troublesome. And when one asks in astonishment--You call yourselves Christians? You believe in God, and the Bible, and Christianity? Do you not think that God will punish YOU for all this? Do you not hear from the psalmists, and prophets, and apostles, of a God who judges and punishes such generations as this? Of a wrath of God which is revealed from heaven against all unrighteousness of men, who, like you, hold down the truth in unrighteousness, knowing what is right and yet doing what is wrong? Then they answer, at least in their hearts, Oh dear no! God does not govern men now, or judge men now. He only did so, our preachers tell us, under the old Jewish dispensation; and such words as you quote from our Lord, or St Paul, have only to do with the day of judgment, and the next life, and we have made it all right for the next life. I, says one, regularly perform my religious duties; and I, says another, build churches and chapels, and give large sums in charity; and I, says another, am converted, and a member of a church; and I, says another, am elect, and predestined to everlasting life--and so forth, and so forth. Each man turning the grace of God into a cloak for licentiousness, and deluding himself into the notion that he may break the eternal laws of God, and yet go to heaven, as he calls it, when he dies: not knowing, poor foolish man, that as the noble commination service well says, the dreadful judgments of God are not waiting for certain people at the last day, thousands of years hence, but hanging over all our heads already, and always ready to fall on us. Not knowing that it is as true now as it was two thousand years ago, that "God is a righteous judge, strong and patient." "If a man will not turn, He will whet His sword; He hath bent His bow, and made it ready," against those who travail with mischief, who conceive sorrow, and bring forth ungodliness. They dig up pits for their neighbours, and fall themselves into the destruction which they have made for others; not knowing that it is as true now as it was two thousand years ago, that God is for ever saying to the ungodly, "Why dost thou preach my laws, and takest my covenant in thy mouth; whereas thou hatest to be reformed, and hast cast my words behind thee? Thou hast let thy mouth speak wickedness, and with thy tongue thou hast set forth deceit. These things hast thou done, and I held my tongue, and thou thoughtest, wickedly, that I am even such a one as thyself. But I will reprove thee, and set before thee the things which thou hast done. O consider this, ye that forget God: lest I pluck you away, and there be none to deliver you." Let us lay this to heart, and say, there can be no doubt--I at least have none--that there is growing up among us a serious divorce between faith and practice; a serious disbelief that the kingdom of heaven is about us, and that Christ is ruling us, as He told us plainly enough in His parables, by the laws of the kingdom of heaven; and that He does, and will punish and reward each man according to those laws, and according to nothing else. We pride ourselves on our superior light, and our improved civilisation, and look down on the old Roman Catholic missionaries, who converted our forefathers from heathendom in the Middle Ages. Now, I am a Protestant, if ever there was one, and I know well that these men had their superstitions and false doctrines. They made mistakes, and often worse than mistakes, for they were but men. But this I tell you, that if they had not had a deep and sound belief that they were in the kingdom of God, the kingdom of heaven; and that they and all men must obey the laws of the kingdom of heaven; and that the first law of it was, that wrongdoing would be punished, and rightdoing rewarded, in this life, every day, and all day long, as sure as Christ the living Lord reigned in righteousness over all the earth; if they had not believed that, I say, and acted on it, we should probably have been heathen at this day. As it is, unless we Protestants get back the old belief, that God is a living God, and that His judgments are abroad in the earth, and that only in keeping His commandments can we get life, and not perish, we shall be seriously in danger of sinking at last into that hopeless state of popular feeling, into which more than one nation in our own time has fallen,--that, as the prophet of old says, a wonderful and horrible thing is committed in the land; the prophets--that is, the preachers and teachers--prophesy falsely; and the priests--the ministers of religion--bear rule by their means; and my people love to have it so--love to have their consciences drugged by the news that they may live bad lives, and yet die good deaths. "And what will ye do in the end thereof?" asks Jeremiah. What indeed! What the Jews did in the end thereof you may read in the book of the prophet Jeremiah. They did nothing, and could do nothing--with their morality their manhood was gone. Sin had borne its certain fruit of anarchy and decrepitude. The wrath of God revealed itself as usual, by no miracle, but through inscrutable social laws. They had to submit, cowardly and broken-hearted, to an invasion, a siege, and an utter ruin. I do not say, God forbid, that we shall ever sink so low, and have to endure so terrible a chastisement: but this I say, that the only way in which any nation of which I ever read in history, can escape, sooner or later, from such a fate, is to remember every day, and all day long, that the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ill-doing of men, who hold the truth in unrighteousness, knowing what is true and what is right, yet telling lies, and doing wrong. Let us lay this to heart, with seriousness and godly fear. For so we shall look up with reverence, and yet with hope, to Christ the ascended king, to whom all power is given in heaven and earth; for ever asking Him for His Holy Spirit, to put into our minds good desires, and to enable us to bring these desires to good effect. And so we shall live for ever under our great taskmaster's eye, and find out that that eye is not merely the eye of a just judge, not merely the eye of a bountiful king, but more the eye of a loving and merciful Saviour, in whose presence is life even here on earth; and at whose right hand, even in this sinful world, are pleasures for evermore. SERMON XXXI. THE UNCHANGEABLE CHRIST Eversley. 1845. Hebrews xiii. 8. "Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever." Let me first briefly remind you, as the truth upon which my whole explanation of this text is built, that man is not meant either for solitude or independence. He is meant to live WITH his fellow-men, to live BY them, and to live FOR them. He is healthy and godly, only when he knows all men for his brothers; and himself, in some way or other, as the servant of all, and bound in ties of love and duty to every one around him. It is not, however, my intention to dwell upon this truth, deep and necessary as it is, but to turn your attention to one of its consequences; I mean to the disappointment and regret of which so many complain, who try, more or less healthily, to keep that truth before them, and shew it forth in their daily life. It has been, and is now, a common complaint with many who interest themselves about their fellow-creatures, and the welfare of the human race, that nothing in this world is sure,--nothing is permanent; a continual ebb and flow seems to be the only law of human life. Men change, they say; their friendships are fickle; their minds, like their bodies, alter from day to day. The heart whom you trust to-day, to- morrow may deceive; the friend for whom you have sacrificed so much, will not in his turn endure the trial of his friendship. The child on whom you may have reposed your whole affection for years, grows up and goes forth into the world, and forms new ties, and you are left alone. Why then love man? Why care for any born of woman, if the happiness which depends on them is exposed to a thousand chances--a thousand changes? Again; we hear the complaint that not only men, but circumstances change. Why knit myself, people will ask, to one who to-morrow may be whirled away from me by some eddy of circumstances, and so go on his way, while I see him no more? Why relieve distress which fresh accidents may bring back again to-morrow, with all its miseries? Why attach ourselves to a home which we may leave to-morrow,--to pursuits which fortune may force us to relinquish,--to bright hopes which the rolling clouds may shut out from us,--to opinions which the next generation may find to have been utterly mistaken,--to a circle of acquaintances who must in a few years be lying silent and solitary, each in his grave? Why, in short, set our affections on anything in this earth, or struggle to improve or settle aught in a world where all seems so temporary, changeful, and uncertain, that "nought doth endure but mutability?" Such is and has been the complaint, mixed up of truth and falsehood, poured out for ages by thousands who have loved (as the world would say) "too well"--who have tried to build up for themselves homes in this world; forgetting that they were strangers and pilgrims in it; and so, when the floods came, and swept away that small fool's paradise of theirs, repined, and were astonished, as though some strange thing had happened to them. The time would fail me did I try fully to lay before you how this dread and terror of change, and this unsatisfied craving after an eternal home and an unchanging friendship embittered the minds of all the more thoughtful heathens before the coming of Christ, who, as the apostle says, all their lives were in bondage to the fear of death. How all their schemes and conceptions of the course of this world, resolved themselves into one dark picture of the terrible river of time, restless, pitiless, devouring all life and beauty as fast as it arose, ready to overwhelm the speakers themselves also with the coming wave, as it had done all they loved before them, and then roll onward for ever, none knew whither! The time would fail me, too, did I try to explain how after He had appeared, Who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever, men have still found the same disappointment in all the paths of life. Many, not seeing that the manifestation of an incarnate God was the answer to all such doubts, the healer of all such wounds, have sickened at this same change and uncertainty, and attempted self-deliverance by all kinds of uncouth and most useless methods. Some have shielded themselves, or tried to shield themselves, in an armour of stoical indifference--of utter selfishness, being sure that at all events there was one friendship in the world which could neither change nor fade--Self-love. Others, again, have withdrawn themselves in disgust, not indeed from their God and Saviour, but from their fellow-men, and buried themselves in deserts, hoping thereby to escape what they despaired of conquering, the chances and changes of this mortal life. Thus they, alas, threw away the gold of human affections among the dross of this world's comfort and honour. Wiser they were, indeed, than those last mentioned; but yet shew I you a more excellent way. It is strange, and mournful, too, that this complaint, of unsatisfied hopes and longings should still be often heard from Christian lips! Strange, indeed, when the object and founder of our religion, the king and head of all our race, the God whom we are bound to worship, the eldest brother whom we are bound to love, the Saviour who died upon the cross for us, is "the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever!" Strange, indeed, when we remember that God was manifest in the flesh, that He might save humanity and its hopes from perpetual change and final destruction, and satisfy all those cravings after an immutable object of man's loyalty and man's love. Yes, He has given us, in Himself, a king who can never misgovern, a teacher who can never mislead, a priest whose sacrifice can never be unaccepted, a protector who can never grow weary, a friend who can never betray. And all that this earth has in it really worth loving,--the ties of family, of country, of universal brotherhood--the beauties and wonders of God's mysterious universe--all true love, all useful labour, all innocent enjoyment--the marriage bed, and the fireside circle--the bounties of harvest, and the smiles of spring, and all that makes life bright and this earth dear--all these things He has restored to man, spiritual and holy, deep with new meaning, bright with purer enjoyment, rich with usefulness, not merely for time, but for eternity, after they had become, through the accumulated sin and folly of ages, foul, dead, and well nigh forgotten. He has united these common duties and pleasures of man's life to Himself, by taking them on Himself on earth; by giving us His spirit to understand and fulfil those duties; by making it a duty to Him to cultivate them to the uttermost. He has sanctified them for ever, by shewing us that they are types and patterns of still higher relations to Himself, and to His Father and our Father, from whom they came. Christ our Lord and Saviour is a witness to us of the enduring, the everlasting nature of all that human life contains of beauty and holiness, and real value. He is a witness to us that Wisdom is eternal; that that all-embracing sight, that all-guiding counsel, which the Lord "possessed in the beginning of His way, before His works of old," He who "was set up from everlasting," who was with Him when He made the world, still exists, and ever shall exist, unchanged. The word of the Lord standeth sure! That Word which was "in the beginning," and "was with God," and "was God!" Glorious truth! that, amid all the inventions which man has sought out, while every new philosopher has been starting some new method of happiness, some new theory of human life and its destinies, God has still been working onward, unchecked, unaltered, "the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever." O, sons of men! perplexed by all the apparent contradictions and cross purposes and opposing powers and principles of this strange, dark, noisy time, remember to your comfort that your King, a man like you, yet very God, now sits above, seeing through all which you cannot see through; unravelling surely all this tangled web of time, while under His guiding eye all things are moving silently onward, like the stars in their courses above you, toward their appointed end, "when He shall have put down all rule and all authority, and power, for He must reign, till He hath put all enemies under His feet." And then, at last, this cloudy sky shall be all clear and bright, for He, the Lamb, shall be the light thereof. Christ is the witness to us also of the eternity of Love,--Of God's love- -the love of the Father who wills, of Himself who has purchased, of the Holy Ghost who works in us our salvation; and of the eternity of all love; that true love is not of the flesh, but of the spirit, and therefore hath its root in the spiritual world, above all change and accidents of time or circumstance. Think, think, my friends. For what is life that we should make such ado about it, and hug it so closely, and look to it to fill our hearts? What is all earthly life with all its bad and good luck, its riches and its poverty, but a vapour that passes away?--noise and smoke overclouding the enduring light of heaven. A man may be very happy and blest in this life; yet he may feel that, however pleasant it is, at root it is no reality, but only a shadow of realities which are eternal and infinite in the bosom of God, a piecemeal pattern, of the Light Kingdom--the city not made with hands--eternal in the heavens. For all this time-world, as a wise man says, is but like an image, beautifully and fearfully emblematic, but still only an emblem, like an air image, which plays and flickers in the grand, still mirror of eternity. Out of nothing, into time and space we all came into noisy day; and out of time and space into the silent night shall we all return into the spirit world--the everlasting twofold mystery--into the light- world of God's love, or the fire-world of His anger--every like unto its like, and every man to his own place. "Choose well, your choice is Brief but yet endless; From Heaven, eyes behold you In eternity's stillness. There all is fullness, Ye brave to reward you; Work and despair not." SERMON XXXII. REFORMATION LESSONS Eversley. 1861. 2 Kings xxiii. 3, 4, 25, 26. "And the king stood by a pillar, and made a covenant before the Lord, to "walk after the Lord, and to keep his commandments and his testimonies and his statutes with all their heart and all their soul, to perform the words of this covenant that were written in this book. And all the people stood to the covenant. And the king commanded Hilkiah the high priest, and the priests of the second order, and the keepers of the door, to bring forth out of the temple of the Lord all the vessels that were made for Baal, and for the grove, and for all the host of heaven: and he burned them without Jerusalem in the fields of Kidron, and carried the ashes of them unto Beth-el. . . . And like unto him was there no king before him, that turned to the Lord with all his heart, and with all his soul, and with all his might, according to all the law of Moses; neither after him arose there any like him. Notwithstanding the Lord turned not from the fierceness of his great wrath, wherewith his anger was kindled against Judah, because of all the provocations that Manasseh had provoked him withal." You heard this chapter read as the first lesson for this afternoon's service; and a lesson it is indeed--a lesson for you and for me, as it was a lesson for our forefathers. If you had been worshipping in this church three hundred years ago, you would have understood, without my telling you, why the good and wise men who shaped our prayer-book chose this chapter to be read in church. You would have applied the words of it to the times in which you were living. You would have felt that the chapter spoke to you at once of joy and hope, and of sorrow and fear. There is no doubt at all what our forefathers would have thought of, and did think of, when they read this chapter. The glorious reformation which young King Josiah made was to them the pattern of the equally glorious Reformation which was made in England somewhat more than three hundred years ago. Young King Josiah, swearing to govern according to the law of the Lord, was to them the pattern of young King Edward VI. determining to govern according to the laws of the Bible. The finding of the law of the Lord in Josiah's time, after it had been long lost, was to them the pattern of the sudden spread among them of the Bible, which had been practically hidden from them for hundreds of years, and was then translated into English and printed, and put freely into the hands of every man, rich and poor, who was able to read it. King Josiah's destruction of the idols, and the temples of the false gods, and driving out the wizards and workers with familiar spirits, were to them a pattern of the destruction of the monasteries and miraculous images and popish superstitions of every kind, the turning the monks out of their convents, and forcing them to set to honest work--which had just taken place throughout England. And the hearts of all true Englishmen were stirred up in those days to copy Josiah and the people of Jerusalem, and turn to the Lord with all their heart, and with all their soul, and with all their might, according to God's law and gospel, in the two Testaments, both Old and New. One would have thought that at such a time the hearts of our forefathers would be full of nothing but hope and joy, content and thankfulness. And yet it was not so. One cannot help seeing that in the prayer-book, which was put together in those days, there is a great deal of fear and sadness. You see it especially in the Litany, which was to be said not only on Sundays, but on Wednesdays and Fridays also. Some people think the Litany painfully sad--too sad. It was not too sad for the time in which it was written. Our forefathers, three hundred years ago, meant what they said when they cried to God to have mercy upon them, miserable sinners, and not to remember their offences nor the offences of their forefathers, &c. They meant, and had good reason to mean, what they said, when they cried to God that those evils which the craft and subtilty of the devil and men were working against them might be brought to nought, and by the providence of His goodness be dispersed--to arise and help and deliver them for His name's sake and for His honour; and to turn from them, for the glory of His name, all those evils which they righteously had deserved. They were in danger and in terror, our forefathers, three hundred years ago. And when they heard this lesson read in church, it was not likely to make their terror less. For what says the 26th verse of this chapter? "Notwithstanding," in spite of all this reformation, and putting away of idols and determining to walk according to the law of the Lord, "the Lord turned not from the fierceness of His great wrath, wherewith His anger was kindled against Judah." And what followed? Josiah was killed in battle--by his own fault too--by Pharaoh Nechoh, King of Egypt. And then followed nothing but disaster and misery. The Jews were conquered first by the King of Egypt, and taxed to pay to him an enormous tribute; and then, in the wars between Egypt and Babylon, conquered a second time by the King of Babylon, the famous Nebuchadnezzar, in that dreadful siege in which it is said mothers ate their own children through extremity of famine. And then after seventy years, after every one of that idolatrous and corrupt generation had died in captivity, the poor Jews were allowed to go back to their native land, chastened and purged in the fire of affliction, and having learnt a lesson which, to do them justice, they never forgot again, and have not forgotten to this day; that to worship a graven image, as well as to work unrighteousness, is abomination to the Lord-- that God, and God alone, is to be worshipped, and worshipped in holiness and purity, in mercy and in justice. And it was some such fate as this, some terrible ruin like that of the Jews of old, that our forefathers feared three hundred years ago. Their hearts were not yet altogether right with God. They had not shaken off the bad habits of mind, or the bad morals either, which they had learnt in the old Romish times--too many of them were using their liberty as a cloak of licentiousness; and, under pretence of religion, plundering not only God's Church, but God's poor. And many other evils were rife in England then, as there are sure to be great evils side by side with great good in any country in times of change and revolution. And so our forefathers needed chastisement, and they had it. King Edward, upon whom the Protestants had set their hopes, died young; and then came times which tried them literally as by fire. First came the terrible persecutions in Queen Mary's time, when hundreds of good men and women were burnt alive for their religion. And even after her death, for thirty years, came times, such as Hezekiah speaks of--times of trouble and rebuke and blasphemy, plots, rebellions, civil war, at home and abroad; dangers that grew ever more and more terrible, till it seemed at last certain that England would be conquered, in the Pope's name, by the King of Spain: and if that had come to pass (and it all but came to pass in the famous year 1588), the King of Spain would have become King of England; the best blood of England would have been shed upon the scaffold; the best estates parted among Spaniards and traitors; England enslaved to the most cruel nation of those times; and the Inquisition set up to persecute, torture, and burn all who believed in what they called, and what is, the gospel of Jesus Christ. That was to have happened, and it was only, as our forefathers confessed, by the infinite mercy of God that it did not happen. They were delivered strangely and suddenly, as the Jews were. For forty years they had been, chastised, and purged and humbled for their sins; and then, and not till then, came times of safety and prosperity, honour and glory, which have lasted, thanks be to God, ever since. And now, my dear friends, what has this to do with us? If this chapter was a lesson to our forefathers, how is it to be a lesson to us likewise? I have always told you (as those who have really understood their Bibles in all ages have told men) that the Bible sets forth the eternal laws of God's kingdom--the laws by which God, that is, our Lord Jesus Christ, governs nations and kingdoms--and not only nations and kingdoms, but you and me, and every individual Christian man; "all these things," says St Paul, are "written for our admonition." The history of the Jews is, or may be, your history or mine, for good or for evil; as God dealt with them, so is He dealing with you and me. By their experience we must learn. By their chastisements we must be warned. So says St Paul. So have all preachers said who have understood St Paul--and so say I to you. And the lesson that we may learn from this chapter is, that we may repent and yet be punished. I know people do not like to believe that; I know that it is much more convenient to fancy that when a man repents, and, as he says, turns over a new leaf, he need trouble himself no more about his past sins. But it is a mistake; not only is the letter and spirit of Scripture against him, but facts are against him. He may not choose to trouble himself about his past sins; but he will find that his past sins trouble him, whether he chooses or not,--and that often in a very terrible way, as they troubled those poor Jews in their day, and our forefathers after the Reformation. "What?" some will say, "is it not expressly written in Scripture that 'when the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive?' and 'all his transgressions that he hath committed they shall not be mentioned unto him,' but that 'in his righteousness which he hath done he shall live?'" No doubt it is so written, my friends. And no doubt it is perfectly and literally true: but answer me this, when does the wicked man do that which is lawful and right? The minute after he has repented? or the day after? or even seven years after?--the minute after he is forgiven, and received freely back again as God's child, as he will be, for the sake of that precious blood which Christ poured out upon the cross? Would to God it were so, my friends. Would to God it were so easy to do right, after having been accustomed to do wrong. Would to God it were so easy to get a clean heart and a right spirit. Would to God it were so easy to break through all the old bad habits--perhaps the habits of a whole life-time. But it is in vain to expect this sudden change of character. As well may we expect a man, who has been laid low with fever, to get up and go about to his work the moment his disease takes a favourable turn. No. After the forgiveness of sin must come the cure of sin. And that cure, like most cures, is a long and a painful process. The sin may have been some animal sin, like drunkenness; and we all know how difficult it is to cure that. Or it may have been a spiritual sin--pride, vanity, covetousness. Can any man put off these bad habits in a moment, as he puts off his coat? Those who so fancy, can know very little of human nature, and have observed their own hearts and their fellow creatures very carelessly. If you will look at facts, what you will find is this:- -that all sins and bad habits fill the soul with evil humours, just as a fever or any other severe disease fills the body; and that, as in the case of a fever, those evil humours remain after the acute disease is past, and are but too apt to break out again, to cause relapses, to torment the poor patient, perhaps to leave his character crippled and disfigured all his life--certainly to require long and often severe treatment by the heavenly physician, Christ, the purifier as well as the redeemer of our sin-sick souls. Heavy, therefore, and bitter and shameful is the burden which many a man has to bear after he has turned from self to God, from sin to holiness. He is haunted, as it were, by the ghosts of his old follies. He finds out the bitter truth of St Paul's words, that there is another law in his body warring against the law of his mind, of his conscience, and his reason; so that when he would do good, evil is present with him. The good that he would do he does not do; and the evil that he would not do he does. Till he cries with St Paul, "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" and feels that none can deliver him, save Jesus Christ our Lord. Yes. But there is our comfort, there is our hope--Christ, the great healer, the great physician, can deliver us, and will deliver us from the remains of our old sins, the consequences of our own follies. Not, indeed, at once, or by miracle; but by slow education in new and nobler motives, in purer and more unselfish habits. And better for us, perhaps, that He should not cure us at once, lest we should fancy that sin was a light thing, which we could throw off whenever we chose; and not what it is, an inward disease, corroding and corrupting, the wages whereof are death. Therefore it is, that because Christ loves us He hates our sins, and cannot abide or endure them, will punish them, and is merciful and loving in punishing them, as long as a tincture or remnant of sin is left in us. Let us then, if our consciences condemn us of living evil lives, turn and repent before it be too late; before our consciences are hardened; before the purer and nobler feelings which we learnt at our mothers' knees are stifled by the ways of the world; before we are hardened into bad habits, and grown frivolous, sensual, selfish and worldly. Let us repent. Let us put ourselves into the hands of Christ, the great physician, and ask Him to heal our wounded souls, and purge our corrupted souls; and leave to Him the choice of how He will do it. Let us be content to be punished and chastised. If we deserve punishment, let us bear it, and bear it like men; as we should bear the surgeon's knife, knowing that it is for our good, and that the hand which inflicts pain is the hand of one who so loves us, that He stooped to die for us on the cross. Let Him deal with us, if He see fit, as He dealt with David of old, when He forgave his sin, and yet punished it by the death of his child. Let Him do what He will by us, provided He does--what He will do--make us good men. That is what we need to be--just, merciful, pure, faithful, loyal, useful, honourable with true honour, in the sight of God and man. That is what we need to be. That is what we shall be at last, if we put ourselves into Christ's hand, and ask Him for the clean heart and the right spirit, which is His own spirit, the spirit of all goodness. And provided we attain, at last, to that--provided we attain, at last, to the truly heroic and divine life, which is the life of virtue, it will matter little to us by what wild and weary ways, or through what painful and humiliating processes, we have arrived thither. If God has loved us, if God will receive us, then let us submit loyally and humbly to His law. "Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth." SERMON XXXIII. HUMAN SOOT Preached for the Kirkdale Ragged Schools, Liverpool, 1870. St Matt, xviii. 14. "It is not the will of your Father which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish." I am here to plead for the Kirkdale Industrial Ragged School, and Free School-room Church. The great majority of children who attend this school belong to the class of "street arabs," as they are now called; and either already belong to, or are likely to sink into, the dangerous classes--professional law-breakers, profligates, and barbarians. How these children have been fed, civilized, christianized, taught trades and domestic employments, and saved from ruin of body and soul, I leave to you to read in the report. Let us take hold of these little ones at once. They are now soft, plastic, mouldable; a tone will stir their young souls to the very depths, a look will affect them for ever. But a hardening process has commenced within them, and if they are not seized at once, they will become harder than adamant; and then scalding tears, and the most earnest trials, will be all but useless. This report contains full and pleasant proof of the success of the schools; but it contains also full proof of a fact which is anything but pleasant--of the existence in Liverpool of a need for such an institution. How is it that when a ragged school like this is opened, it is filled at once: that it is enlarged year after year, and yet is filled and filled again? Whence comes this large population of children who are needy, if not destitute; and who are, or are in a fair way to become, dangerous? And whence comes the population of parents whom these children represent? How is it that in Liverpool, if I am rightly informed, more than four hundred and fifty children were committed by the magistrates last year for various offences; almost every one of whom, of course, represents several more, brothers, sisters, companions, corrupted by him, or corrupting him. You have your reformatories, your training ships, like your Akbar, which I visited with deep satisfaction yesterday- -institutions which are an honour to the town of Liverpool, at least to many of its citizens. But how is it that they are ever needed? How is it--and this, if correct, or only half correct, is a fact altogether horrible--that there are now between ten and twelve thousand children in Liverpool who attend no school--twelve thousand children in ignorance of their duty to God and man, in training for that dangerous class, which you have, it seems, contrived to create in this once small and quiet port during a century of wonderful prosperity. And consider this, I beseech you--how is it that the experiment of giving these children a fair chance, when it is tried (as it has been in these schools) has succeeded? I do not wonder, of course, that it has succeeded, for I know Who made these children, and Who redeemed them, and Who cares for them more than you or I, or their best friends, can care for them. But do you not see that the very fact of their having improved, when they had a fair chance, is proof positive that they had not had a fair chance before? How is that, my friends? And this leads me to ask you plainly--what do you consider to be your duty toward those children; what is your duty toward those dangerous and degraded classes, from which too many of them spring? You all know the parable of the Good Samaritan. You all know how he found the poor wounded Jew by the wayside; and for the mere sake of their common humanity, simply because he was a man, though he would have scornfully disclaimed the name of brother, bound up his wounds, set him on his own beast, led him to an inn, and took care of him. Is yours the duty which the good Samaritan felt?--the duty of mere humanity? How is it your duty to deal, then, with these poor children? That, and I think a little more. Let me say boldly, I think these children have a deeper and a nearer claim on you; and that you must not pride yourselves, here in Liverpool, on acting the good Samaritan, when you help a ragged school. We do not read that the good Samaritan was a merchant, on his march, at the head of his own caravan. We do not read that the wounded man was one of his own servants, or a child of one of his servants, who had been left behind, unable from weakness or weariness to keep pace with the rest, and had dropped by the wayside, till the vultures and the jackals should pick his bones. Neither do we read that he was a general, at the head of an advancing army, and that the poor sufferer was one of his own rank and file, crippled by wounds or by disease, watching, as many a poor soldier does, his comrades march past to victory, while he is left alone to die. Still less do we hear that the sufferer was the child of some poor soldier's wife, or even of some drunken camp-follower, who had lost her place on the baggage-waggon, and trudged on with the child at her back, through dust and mire, till, in despair, she dropped her little one, and left it to the mercies of the God who gave it her. In either case, that good Samaritan would have known what his duty was. I trust that you will know, in like case, what your duty is. For is not this, and none other, your relation to these children in your streets, ragged, dirty, profligate, sinking and perishing, of whom our Lord has said--"It is not the will of your Father which is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish?" It is not His will. I am sure that it is not your will either. I believe that, with all my heart. I do not blame you, or the people of Liverpool, nor the people of any city on earth, in our present imperfect state of civilisation, for the existence among them of brutal, ignorant, degraded, helpless people. It is no one's fault, just because it is every one's fault--the fault of the system. But it is not the will of God; and therefore the existence of such an evil is proof patent and sufficient that we have not yet discovered the whole will of God about this matter; that we have not yet mastered the laws of true political economy, which (like all other natural laws) are that will of God revealed in facts. Our processes are hasty, imperfect, barbaric--and their result is vast and rapid production: but also waste, refuse, in the shape of a dangerous class. We know well how, in some manufactures, a certain amount of waste is profitable--that it pays better to let certain substances run to refuse, than to use every product of the manufacture; as in a steam mill, where it pays better not to consume the whole fuel, to let the soot escape, though every atom of soot is so much wasted fuel. So it is in our present social system. It pays better, capital is accumulated more rapidly, by wasting a certain amount of human life, human health, human intellect, human morals, by producing and throwing away a regular percentage of human soot--of that thinking, acting dirt, which lies about, and, alas! breeds and perpetuates itself in foul alleys and low public houses, and all dens and dark places of the earth. But, as in the case of the manufactures, the Nemesis comes, swift and sure. As the foul vapours of the mine and the manufactory destroy vegetation and injure health, so does the Nemesis fall on the world of man; so does that human soot, these human poison gases, infect the whole society which has allowed them to fester under its feet. Sad, but not hopeless! Dark, but not without a gleam of light on the horizon! For I can conceive a time when, by improved chemical science, every foul vapour which now escapes from the chimney of a manufactory, polluting the air, destroying the vegetation, shall be seized, utilised, converted into some profitable substance; till the black country shall be black no longer, the streams once more crystal clear, the trees once more luxuriant, and the desert which man has created in his haste and greed shall, in literal fact, once more blossom as the rose. And just so can I conceive a time when, by a higher civilisation, formed on a political economy more truly scientific, because more truly according to the will of God, our human refuse shall be utilised, like our material refuse, when man, as man, even down to the weakest and most ignorant, shall be found to be (as he really is) so valuable, that it will be worth while to preserve his health, to develop his capabilities, to save him alive, body, intellect, and character, at any cost; because men will see that a man is, after all, the most precious and useful thing on the earth, and that no cost spent on the development of human beings can possibly be thrown away. I appeal, then, to you, the commercial men of Liverpool, if there are any such in this congregation. If not, I appeal to their wives and daughters, who are kept in wealth, luxury, refinement, by the honourable labours of their husbands, fathers, brothers, on behalf of this human soot. Merchants are (and I believe that they deserve to be) the leaders of the great caravan, which goes forth to replenish the earth and subdue it. They are among the generals of the great army which wages war against the brute powers of nature all over the world, to ward off poverty and starvation from the ever-teeming millions of mankind. Have they no time--I take for granted that they have the heart--to pick up the footsore and weary, who have fallen out of the march, that they may rejoin the caravan, and be of use once more? Have they no time--I am sure they have the heart--to tend the wounded and the fever-stricken, that they may rise and fight once more? If not, then must not the pace of their march be somewhat too rapid, the plan of their campaign somewhat precipitate and ill-directed, their ambulance train and their medical arrangements somewhat defective? We are all ready enough to complain of waste of human bodies, brought about by such defects in the British army. Shall we pass over the waste, the hereditary waste of human souls, brought about by similar defects in every great city in the world? Waste of human souls, human intellects, human characters--waste, saddest of all, of the image of God in little children. That cannot be necessary. There must be a fault somewhere. It cannot be the will of God that one little one should perish by commerce, or by manufacture, any more than by slavery, or by war. As surely as I believe that there is a God, so surely do I believe that commerce is the ordinance of God; that the great army of producers and distributors is God's army. But for that very reason I must believe that the production of human refuse, the waste of human character, is not part of God's plan; not according to His ideal of what our social state should be; and therefore what our social state can be. For God asks no impossibilities of any human being. But as things are, one has only to go into the streets of this, or any great city, to see how we, with all our boasted civilisation, are, as yet, but one step removed from barbarism. Is that a hard word? Why, there are the barbarians around us at every street corner! Grown barbarians--it may be now all but past saving--but bringing into the world young barbarians, whom we may yet save, for God wishes us to save them. It is not the will of their Father which is in heaven that one of them should perish. And for that very reason He has given them capabilities, powers, instincts, by virtue of which they need not perish. Do not deceive yourselves about the little dirty, offensive children in the street. If they be offensive to you, they are not to Him who made them. "Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven." Is there not in every one of them, as in you, the Light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world? And know you not Who that Light is, and what He said of little children? Then, take heed, I say, lest you despise one of these little ones. Listen not to the Pharisee when he says, Except the little child be converted, and become as I am, he shall in nowise enter into the kingdom of heaven. But listen to the voice of Him who knew what was in man, when He said, "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." Their souls are like their bodies, not perfect, but beautiful enough, and fresh enough, to shame any one who shall dare to look down on them. Their souls are like their bodies, hidden by the rags, foul with the dirt of what we miscall civilisation. But take them to the pure stream, strip off the ugly, shapeless rags, wash the young limbs again, and you shall find them, body and soul, fresh and lithe, graceful and capable--capable of how much, God alone who made them knows. Well said of such, the great Christian poet of your northern hills-- "Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home." Truly, and too truly, alas! he goes on to say-- "Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing boy." Will you let the shades of that prison-house of mortality be peopled with little save obscene phantoms? Truly, and too truly, he goes on-- "The youth, who daily further from the east Must travel, still is Nature's priest, And by the vision splendid, Is on his way attended." Will you leave the youth to know nature only in the sense in which an ape or a swine knows it; and to conceive of no more splendid vision than that which he may behold at a penny theatre? Truly again, and too truly, he goes on-- "At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day." Yes, to weak, mortal man the prosaic age of manhood must needs come, for good as well as for evil. But will you let that age be--to any of your fellow citizens--not even an age of rational prose, but an age of brutal recklessness; while the light of common day, for him, has sunk into the darkness of a common sewer? And all the while it was not the will of their Father in heaven that one of these little ones should perish. Is it your will, my friends; or is it not? If it be not, the means of saving them, or at least the great majority of them, is easier than you think. Circumstances drag downward from childhood, poor, weak, fallen, human nature. Circumstances must help it upward again once more. Do your best to surround the wild children of Liverpool with such circumstances as you put round your own children. Deal with them as you wish God to deal with your beloved. Remember that, as the wise man says, the human plant, like the vegetable, thrives best in light; and you will discover, by the irresistible logic of facts, by the success of your own endeavours, by seeing these young souls grow, and not wither, live, and not die--that it is not the will of your Father which is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish. SERMON XXXIV. NATIONAL SORROWS AND NATIONAL LESSONS On the illness or the Prince of Wales. Chapel Royal, St James's, December 17th, 1871. 2 Sam. xix. 14. "He bowed the heart of all the men of Judah, even as the heart of one man." No circumstances can be more different, thank God, than those under which the heart of the men of Judah was bowed when their king commander appealed to them, and those which have, in the last few days, bowed the heart of this nation as the heart of one man. But the feeling called out in each case was the same--Loyalty, spontaneous, contagious, some would say unreasoning: but it may be all the deeper and nobler, because for once it did not wait to reason, but was content to be human, and to feel. If those men who have been so heartily loyal of late--respectable, business-like, manful persons, of a race in nowise given to sentimental excitement--had been asked the cause of the intense feeling which they have shown during the last few days, they would probably, most of them, find some difficulty in giving it. Many would talk frankly of their dread lest business should be interfered with; and no shame to them, if they live by business. Others would speak of possible political complications; and certainly no blame to them for dreading such. But they would most of them speak, as frankly, of a deeper and less selfish emotion. They would speak, not eloquently it may be, but earnestly, of sympathy with a mother and a wife; of sympathy with youth and health fighting untimely with disease and death--they would plead their common humanity, and not be ashamed to have yielded to that touch of nature, which makes the whole world kin. And that would be altogether to their honour. Honourably and gracefully has that sympathy showed itself in these realms of late. It has proved that in spite of all our covetousness, all our luxury, all our frivolity, we are not cynics yet, nor likely, thanks be to Almighty God, to become cynics; that however encrusted and cankered with the cares and riches of this world, and bringing, alas, very little fruit to perfection, the old British oak is sound at the root--still human, still humane. But there is, I believe, another and an almost deeper reason for the strong emotion which has possessed these men; one most intimately bound up with our national life, national unity, national history; one which they can hardly express to themselves; one which some of them are half ashamed to express, because they cannot render a reason for it; but which is still there, deeply rooted in their souls; one of those old hereditary instincts by which the histories of whole nations, whole races, are guided, often half-unconsciously, and almost in spite of themselves; and that is Loyalty, pure and simple Loyalty--the attachment to some royal race, whom they conceived to be set over them by God. An attachment, mark it well, founded not on their own will, but on grounds very complex, and quite independent of them; an attachment which they did not make, but found; an attachment which their forefathers had transmitted to them, and which they must transmit to their children as a national inheritance,--at once a symbol of and a support to the national unity of the whole people, running back to the time when, in dim and mythic ages, it emerged into the light of history as a wandering tribe. This instinct, as a historic fact, has been strong in all the progressive European nations; especially strong in the Teutonic; in none more than in the English and the Scotch. It has helped to put them in the forefront of the nations. It has been a rallying point for all their highest national instincts. Their Sovereign was to them the divinely appointed symbol of the unity of their country. In defending him, they defended it. It did not interfere, that instinct of loyalty, with their mature manhood, freedom, independence. They knew that if royalty were indeed God's ordinance, it had its duties as well as its rights. And when their kings broke the law, they changed their kings. But a king they must have, for their own sakes; not merely for the sake of the nation's security and peace, but for the sake of their own self-respect. They felt, those old forefathers of ours, that loyalty was not a degrading, but an ennobling influence; that a free man can give up his independence without losing it; that--as the example of that mighty German army has just shown an astounded world--independence is never more called out than by subordination; and that a free man never feels himself so free as when obeying those whom the laws of his country have set over him; an able man never feels himself so able as when he is following the lead of an abler man than himself. And what if, as needs must happen at whiles, the sovereign were not a man, but a woman or a child? Then was added to loyalty in the hearts of our forefathers, and of many another nation in Europe, an instinct even deeper, and tenderer, and more unselfish--the instinct of chivalry; and the widowed queen, or the prince, became to them a precious jewel committed to their charge by the will of their forefathers and the providence of God; an heirloom for which they were responsible to God, and to their forefathers, and to their children after them, lest their names should be stained to all future generations by the crime of baseness toward the weak. This was the instinct of the old Teutonic races. They were often unfaithful to it--as all men are to their higher instincts; and fulfilled it very imperfectly--as all men fulfil their duties. But it was there-- in their heart of hearts. It helped to make them; and, therefore, it helped to make us. It ennobled them; it called out in them the sense of unity, order, discipline, and a lofty and unselfish affection. And I thank God, as an Englishman, for any event, however exquisitely painful, which may call out those true graces in us, their descendants. And, therefore, my good friends, if any cynic shall sneer, as he may, after the present danger is past, at this sudden outburst of loyalty, and speak of it as unreasoning and childish, answer not him. "Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you." But answer yourselves, and answer too your children, when they ask you what has moved you thus--answer, I say, not childishly, but childlike: "We have gone back, for a moment at least, to England's childhood--to the mood of England when she was still young. And we are showing thereby that we are not yet decayed into old age. That if we be men, and not still children, yet the child is father to the man; and the child's heart still beats underneath all the sins and all the cares and all the greeds of our manhood." More than one foreign nation is looking on in wonder and in envy at that sight. God grant that they may understand all that it means. God grant that they may understand of how wide and deep an application is the great law, "Except ye be converted," changed, and turned round utterly, "and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." God grant that they may recover the childlike heart, and replace with it that childish heart which pulls to pieces at its own irreverent fancy the most ancient and sacred institutions, to build up ever fresh baby-houses out of the fragments, as a child does with its broken toys. Therefore, my friends, be not ashamed to have felt acutely. Be not ashamed to feel acutely still, till all danger is past, or even long after all danger is past; when you look back on what might have been, and what it might have brought, ay, must have brought, if not to you, still to your children after you. For so you will show yourselves worthy descendants of your forefathers: so you will show yourselves worthy citizens of this British empire. So you will show yourselves, as I believe, worthy Christian men and women. For Christ, the King of kings and subjects, sends all sorrow, to make us feel acutely. We do not, the great majority of us, feel enough. Our hearts are dull and hard and light, God forgive us; and we forget continually what an earnest, awful world we live in--a whole eternity waiting for us to be born, and a whole eternity waiting to see what we shall do now we are born. Yes; our hearts are dull and hard and light; and, therefore, Christ sends suffering on us to teach us what we always gladly forget in comfort and prosperity--what an awful capacity of suffering we have; and more, what an awful capacity of suffering our fellow-creatures have likewise. We sit at ease too often in a fool's paradise, till God awakens us and tortures us into pity for the torture of others. And so, if we will not acknowledge our brotherhood by any other teaching, He knits us together by the brotherhood of common suffering. But if God thus sends sorrow to ennoble us, to call out in us pity, sympathy, unselfishness, most surely does He send for that end such a sorrow as this, which touches in all alike every source of pity, of sympathy, of unselfishness at once. Surely He meant to bow our hearts as the heart of one man; and He has, I trust and hope, done that which He meant to do. God grant that the effect may be permanent. God grant that it may call out in us all an abiding loyalty. God grant that it may fill us with some of that charity which bears all things, hopes all things, believes all things, which rejoices not in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; and make us thrust aside henceforth, in dignified disgust, the cynic and the slanderer, the ribald and the rebel. But more. God grant that the very sight of the calamity with which we have stood face to face, may call out in us some valiant practical resolve, which may benefit this whole nation, and bow all hearts as the heart of one man, to do some one right thing. And what right thing? What but the thing which is pointed to by plain and terrible fact, as the lesson which God must mean us to learn, if He means us to learn any, from what has so nearly befallen? Let our hearts be bowed as the heart of one man, to say--that so far as we have power, so help us God, no man, woman, or child in Britain, be he prince or be he beggar, shall die henceforth of preventable disease. Let us repent of and amend that scandalous neglect of the now well-known laws of health and cleanliness which destroys thousands of lives yearly in this kingdom, without need and reason; in defiance alike of science, of humanity, and of our Christian profession. Two hundred thousand persons, I am told, have died of preventable fever since the Prince Consort's death ten years ago. Is that not a sin to bow our hearts as the heart of one man? Ah, if this foul and needless disease, by striking once at the very highest, shall bring home to us the often told, seldom heeded fact that it is striking perpetually at hundreds among the very lowest, whom we leave to sicken and die in dens unfit for men--unfit for dogs; if this tragedy shall awaken all loyal citizens to demand and to enforce, as a duty to their sovereign, their country, and their God, a sanatory reform in town and country, immediate, wholesale, imperative; if it shall awaken the ministers of religion to preach about that, and hardly aught but that-- till there is not a fever ally or a malarious ditch left in any British city;--then indeed this fair and precious life will not have been imperilled in vain, and generations yet unborn will bless the memory of a prince who sickened as poor men sicken, and all but died, as poor men die, that his example--and, it may be hereafter, his exertions--might deliver the poor from dirt, disease, and death. For him himself I have no fear. We have committed him to God. It may be that he has committed himself to God. It may be that he has already learned lessons which God alone can teach. It may be that those lessons will bring forth hereafter royal fruit right worthy of a royal root. At least we can trust him in God's hands, and believe that if this great woe was meant to ennoble us it was meant to ennoble him; that if it was meant to educate us it was meant to educate him; that God is teaching him; and that in God's school-house he is safe. For think, my friends, if we, who know him partly, love him much; then God, who knows him wholly, loves him more. And so God be with him, and with you, and with your prayers for him. Amen. SERMON XXXV. GRACE AND GLORY Chapel Royal, Whitehall. 1865. For the consumptive hospital. St John ii. 11. "This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifested forth his glory." This word glory, whether in its Greek or its Roman shape, had a very definite meaning in the days of the Apostles. It meant the admiration of men. The Greek word, as every scholar knows, is derived from a root signifying to seem, and expresses that which a man seems, and appears to his fellow men. The Latin word glory is expressly defined by Cicero to mean the love, trust, and admiration of the multitude; and a consequent opinion that the man is worthy of honour. Glory, in fact, is a relative word, and can be only used of any being in relation to other rational beings, and their opinion of him. The glory of God, therefore, in Scripture, must needs mean that admiration which men feel, or ought to feel for God. There is a deeper, an altogether abysmal meaning for that word: "And now, O Father, glorify thou me with thy own self, with the glory which I had with thee before the world was." But on that text, speaking of the majesty of the ever- blessed Trinity, I dare not attempt to comment; though, could I explain it, I should. When St. John says that Christ manifested forth His glory, and His disciples believed on Him, it is plain that He means by His glory that which produced admiration and satisfaction, not alone in the mind of God the Father, but in the minds of men. Now, what the Romans thought glorious in their days is notorious enough. No one can look upon the picture of a Roman triumph without seeing that their idea of glory was force, power, brute force, self-willed dominion, selfish aggrandizement. But this was not the glory which St. John saw in Christ, for His glory was full of grace, which is incompatible with self- will and selfishness. The Greek's meaning of glory is equally notorious. He called it wisdom. We call it craft--the glory of the sophist, who could prove or disprove anything for gain or display; the glory of the successful adventurer, whose shrewdness made its market out of the stupidity and vice of the barbarian. But this is not the glory of Christ, for St. John saw that it was full of truth. Therefore, neither strength nor craft are the glory of Christ; and, therefore, they are not the glory of God. For the glory of Christ is the glory of God, and none other, because He is very God, of very God begotten. In Christ, man sees the unseen, and absolute, and eternal God as He is, was, and ever will be. "No man hath seen God at any time; the only begotten Son, which is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him:"--and that perfectly and utterly; for in Him dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, so that He Himself could say, "He that hath seen me hath seen the Father." This is the Catholic Faith. God grant that I may believe it with my whole heart. God grant that you may believe it with your whole hearts likewise, and not merely with your intellects and brains. But, it may be said, though God be not glorious and admirable for selfish force, which it were blasphemous to attribute to Him, He is still admirable for His power. Though He be not glorious for craft, He is still glorious for His wisdom. I deny both. I deny that power is any object of admiration, unless it be used well for good ends. To admire power for its own sake is one of those errors, which has been well called Titanolatry, the worship of giants. Neither is wisdom an object of admiration, unless it be used for good ends. To worship it for its own sake is a common error enough--the idolatry of Intellect. But it is none the less an error, and a grievous one. God's power and wisdom are glorious only in as far as they are used (as they are utterly) for good ends; only, in plain words, as far as God is (as He is perfectly) good. And the true glory of God is that God is good. So says the Scripture; and so I bid you all remember, for it is a truth which you and I and all mankind are perpetually ready to forget. Let me but ask you one question as a test whether or not I am right. If the Supreme Being used His power, as the Roman Caesar used his; if He used His wisdom as the Greek sophist used his, would He be glorious then and worthy of admiration? The old heathen AEschylus answered that question for mankind long ago on the Athenian stage. I should be ashamed to answer it again in a Christian pulpit. And when I say GOOD, I mean good, even as man can be, and ought to be, and is, more or less, good. The theory that because God's morality is absolute, it may, therefore, be different from man's morality, in KIND as well as in DEGREE, is equally contrary to the letter and to the spirit of Scripture. Man, according to Scripture, is made in God's moral image and likeness, and however fallen and degraded that image may be, still the ultimate standard of right and wrong is the same in God and in man. How else dare Abraham ask of God, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" How else has God's command to the old Jews any meaning, "Be ye holy, for I am holy?" How else have all the passages in the Psalms, Prophets, Evangelists, Apostles, which speak of God's justice, mercy, faithfulness, any honest or practical meaning to human beings? How else can they be aught but a mockery, a delusion, and a snare to the tens of thousands who have found in them hope and trust, that God would deliver them and the world from evil? What means the command to be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect? What mean the words that we partake of a divine nature? How else is the command to love God anything but an arbitrary and impossible demand,--demanding love, which every writer of fiction tells you, and tells you truly, cannot be compelled--can only go forth toward a being who shows himself worthy of our love, by possessing those qualities which we admire in our fellow men? No. Against such a theory I must quote, as embodying all that I would say, and corroborating, on entirely independent ground, the Scriptural account of human morality--against such a theory, I say I must quote the words of our greatest living logician. "Language has no meaning for the words Just, Merciful, Benevolent" (he might have added truthful likewise) "save that in which we predicate them of our fellow creatures; and unless that is what we intend to express by them, we have no business to employ the words. If in affirming them of God we do not mean to affirm these very qualities, differing only as greater in degree, we are neither philosophically nor morally entitled to affirm them at all . . . What belongs to" God's goodness "as Infinite (or more properly Absolute) I do not pretend to know; but I know that infinite goodness must be goodness, and that what is not consistent with goodness is not consistent with infinite goodness. . . . Besides," he says--and to this sound reductio ad absurdum I call the attention of all who believe their Bibles--"unless I believe God to possess the same moral attributes which I find, in however inferior a degree, in a good man, what ground of assurance have I of God's veracity? All trust in a Revelation presupposes a conviction that God's attributes are the same, in all but degree, with the best human attributes. If, instead of the 'glad tidings' that there exists a Being in whom all the excellences which the highest human mind can conceive, exist in a degree inconceivable to us, I am informed that the world is ruled by a being whose attributes are infinite, but what they are we cannot learn, nor what are the principles of his government, except that 'the highest human morality which we are capable of conceiving' does not sanction them; convince me of it and I will bear my fate as I may. But when I am told that I must believe this, and at the same time call this being by the names which express and affirm the highest human morality, I say in plain terms that I will not. Whatever power such a being may have over me, there is one thing which he shall not do: he shall not compel me to worship him. I will call no being good, who is not what I mean when I apply that epithet to my fellow creatures." That St. John would have assented to these bold and honest words, that such is St. John's conception of human and divine morality, the story in the text shows, to my mind, especially. It is, so to speak, a crucial experiment, by which the truth of the Scripture theory is verified. The difficulty in all ages about a standard of morality has been--How can we fix it? Even if we agree that man's goodness ought to be the counterpart of God's goodness, we know that in practice it is not, as mankind has differed in all ages and countries about what is right and wrong. The Hindoo thinks it right to burn widows, wrong to eat animal food; and between such extremes there are numberless minor differences. Hardly any act is conceivable which has not been thought by some man, somewhere, somehow, morally right or morally wrong. If all that we can do is, to choose out those instances of morality which seem to us most right, and impute them to God, shall we not have an ever-shifting, probably a merely conventional standard of right and wrong? And worse--shall we not be always in danger of deifying our own superstitions--perhaps our own vices: of making a God in our own image, because we cannot know that God in whose image we are made? Most true, unless "we believe rightly the incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ," "perfect God and perfect man." In Him, says the Bible, the perfect human morality is manifested, and shown by His life and conduct to be identical with the divine. He bids us be perfect even as our Father in heaven is perfect; and He only has a right- -in the sense of a sound and fair reason--for so doing; because He can say, and has said, "He that hath seen me hath seen the Father." At least, such is the doctrine of St. John. He tells us that the Word, who was God, was made flesh, and dwelt in his land and neighbourhood; and that he and his fellows beheld His glory; and saw that it was the glory of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. And then, in the next chapter, he goes on to tell us how that glory was first manifested forth--by turning water into wine at a marriage feast. On the truth of the story, I say simply, in passing, that I believe it fully and literally; as I do also St. John's assertions about our Lord's Divinity. But I only wish to point out to you why I called this miracle the crucial experiment, which proved God's goodness to be identical with that which we call (and rightly) goodness in man. It is by the seeming insignificance thereof, by the seeming non-necessity, by the seeming humbleness of its circumstances, by the seeming smallness of its results, issuing merely (as far as Scripture tells us, and therefore as far as we need know, or have a right to imagine) in the giving of a transitory and unnecessary physical pleasure. In short, by the very absence of that Dignus deo vindice nodus, that knot which only a God could untie, which heathens demanded ere a god was allowed to interfere in the plot of a tragedy; which too many who call themselves Christians demand before the living God is allowed to interfere in that world in which without Him not a sparrow falls to the ground. In a moral case of this kind, if you will consider, that which seems least is often the greatest. That which seems the lowest, because the simplest and meanest manifestation of a moral law, may be--probably is--the deepest, the highest, the most universal. Life is made up of little things, say the practically wise, and they say true, for our Lord says so likewise. "He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much." If you look on morality, virtue, goodness, holiness, sanctification--call it what you will--as merely the obligation of an EXTERNAL law, you will be tempted to say, "Let me be faithful to it in its greater and more important cases, and that is enough. The pettier ones must take care of themselves, I have not time enough to attend to them, and God will not, it may be, require them of me." But if the morality, goodness, holiness be in you what it was in Christ, without measure--a SPIRIT, even the spirit of God--a spirit within you, possessing you, and working on you, and in you--then that which seems most petty and unimportant will often be most important, the test of the soundness of your heart, of the reality of your feelings. We all know--every writer of fiction, at least, should know--how true this is in the case of love between man and woman, between parent and child: how the little kindnesses, the half-unconscious gestures, the petty labours of love, of which their object will never be aware, the scrupulousness which is able "to greatly find quarrel in a straw, when honour is at stake,"--how these are the very things which show that the affection is neither the offspring of dry and legal duty, nor of selfish enjoyment, but lies far down in the unconscious abysses of the heart and being itself:--as Christ--to compare (for He Himself permits, nay commands, us to do so in His parables) our littleness with His immensity- -as Christ, I say, showed, when He chose first to manifest His glory--the glory of His grace and truth--by increasing for a short hour the pleasures of a village feast. I might say much more on the point; how He showed these by His truth; how He proved that He, and therefore His Father and your Father, was not that Deus quidam deceptor, whom some suppose Him, mocking the intellect of His creatures by the FACTS of nature which He has created, tempting the souls of His creatures by the very faculties and desires which He Himself has given them. But I wish now to draw your minds rather to that one word GRACE--Grace, what it means, and how it is a manifestation of glory. Few Scriptural expressions have suffered more that this word Grace from the storms of theological controversy. Springing flesh in the minds of Apostles, as did many other noble words in that heaven-enriched soil, the only adequate expressions of an idea which till then had never fully possessed the mind of man, it meant more than we can now imagine; perhaps more that we shall ever imagine again. We, alas! only know the word with its fragrance battered out, its hues rubbed off, its very life anatomized out of it by the battles of rival divines, till its mere skeleton is left, and all that grace means to most of us is simply and dryly a certain spiritual gift of God. Doubtless it means that; but if it meant nothing more at first, why was not the plain word Gift enough for the Apostles? Why did they use Grace? Why did they use, too, in the sense of giving and gifts, nouns and verbs derived from that root-word, CHARIS, grace, which plainly signified so much to them? A word, the root-meaning of which was neither more nor less than a certain heathen goddess, or goddesses--the inspirer of beauty in art, the impersonation of all that is pure, charming, winning, bountiful--in one word, of all that is graceful and gracious in the human character. The fact is strange, but the fact is there; and being there, we must face it and explain it. Of course, the Apostles use the word grace in a far deeper and loftier meaning; raise it, mathematically speaking, to a far higher power. There is no need to remind you of that. But why did they choose and use the word at all--a word whose old meaning every heathen knew--unless for some innate fitness in it to express something in the character of God? To tell men that there was in God a graciousness, as of the most gracious of all human beings, which gave to His character a moral beauty, a charm, a winningness, which, as even the old Jewish prophet, before the Incarnation, could perceive and boldly declare, drew them with the cords of a man and with the bands of love, attracting them by the very human character of its graciousness. "The glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace." Meditate on those words. "Full of grace,"--of that spirit which we, like the old heathens, consider rather a feminine than a masculine excellence; the spirit, which, as St. James says of God the Father, gives simply and upbraideth not; gives gracefully, as we ourselves say--in the right and happy use of the adverb; does not spoil its gifts by throwing them in the teeth of the giver, but gives for mere giving's sake; pleases where it can be done, without sin or harm, for mere pleasing's sake; most human and humane when it is most divine; the spirit by which Christ turned the water into wine at the marriage feast, and so manifested forth His absolute and eternal glory. And how? How? Thus, if you will receive it; if you will believe a truth which is too often hidden from the wise and prudent, and yet revealed unto babes; which will never be understood by the proud Pharisee, the sour fanatic, the ascetic who dreads and distrusts his Father in heaven; but which is clear and simple enough to many a clear and simple heart, honest and single-eyed, sunny itself, and bringing sunshine wherever it comes, because it is inspired by the gracious spirit of God, and delights to show kindness for kindness' sake, and to make happy for happiness' sake, taking no merit to itself for doing that, which is as instinctive as its very breath. This,--that the graciousness which Christ showed at that marriage feast is neither more nor less than the boundless love of God, who could not live alone in the abyss, but must needs, out of His own Divine Charity, create the universe, that He might have somewhat beside Himself whereon to pour out the ocean of His love, which finds its own happiness in giving happiness to all created things, from the loftiest of rational beings down to the gnat which dances in the sun, and for aught we know, to the very lichen which nestles in the Alpine rock. This is the character of God, unless Scripture be a dream of man's imagination. Thus far you may know God; thus far you may see God as He is; and know and see that He is just with the justice of a man, only more just; merciful with the mercy of a man, only more merciful; truthful with the truthfulness of a man, only more truthful; gracious with the graciousness of a man, only more gracious; and loving? That we dare not say: for if we say so much, the Scripture commands us to say more. The Scripture tells us that the whole absolute morality of God is summed up-- as our own human morality ought to be--in His Love. That love is the fulfilment of the Moral Law in Him as in us; that it is the root and cause and spirit of His justice, mercy, truth, and graciousness; that it belongs not to His attributes, as they may be said to be, but to His essence and His spirit; that we must not, if we be careful of our words, say, God is loving, because we are bidden to say, "God is Love." Thus, the commands, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God--and thy neighbour as thyself, are shown to be not arbitrary and impossible demands, miscalled moral obligations, while they are merely legal and external ones; but true moral obligations, in the moral sense, to which heart and spirit can answer, "I rejoice to do thy will, O God; Thy law is within my heart." You ought to love God, because He is supremely loveable and worthy of your love. You can love God, because you can appreciate and know God; for you are His child, made in His moral likeness, and capable of seeing Him as He is morally, and of seeing in Him the full perfection of all that attracts your moral sense, when it is manifested in any human being. And you can love your neighbour as yourselves, because, and in as far as you have in you the Spirit of God, the spirit of universal love, which proceedeth out for ever both from the Father and the Son to all beings and things which They have made. And of one thing I am sure, that in proportion as you are led and inspired by that Spirit of God which showed in our Lord, in the very deepest and truest sense, as the spirit of humanity, just so you will feel a genial and hearty pleasure in lessening all human suffering, however slight; in increasing all harmless human pleasure, however transitory; and in copying Him who, at the marriage feast, gracefully and graciously turned the water into wine. I do not, of course, mean that you are to do no more than that; to prefer sentiment to duty, to amuse and glorify yourselves by paying tithe of mint, anise, and cummin, and neglect the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith. But I do mean that you are not to distrust your own sentiments, not to crush your own instinctive sympathies. The very lowest of them--that which makes you shrink at the sight of pain, and rejoice in the sight of pleasure, is not natural, and common to you with the animals; it is supernatural and divine. It is a schoolmaster to bring you to Christ, to that higher inspiration of His, which tells your heart to alleviate the unseen woes which will never come into painful contact with your sensibilities, to bestow pleasures in which you yourself have no immediate share. It will tell your hearts especially in the case of this very Hospital for Consumption not to be slack in giving, because so much of what you will give--it is painful to recollect how much--will be spent, not in prevention, not even in cure, but in mere alleviation, mere increased bodily ease, mere savoury food, even mere passing amusements for wearied minds. Be it so. If (which God forbid) we could do nothing SAVE alleviate; if (which God forbid) permanent cure, even lengthening of life, were impossible, I should say just as much, Give. Give money to alleviate; give, even though what you give were, in the strictly economic sense, WASTED. We are ready enough, most of us, to waste upon ourselves. It is well for us to taste once in a way the luxury of wasting on others; though I have yet to learn that anything can be called wasted which lessens, even for a moment, the amount of human suffering. A plan, for instance, is on foot for sending twenty of the patients to Madeira for the winter. The British Consul, to his honour, guarantees their maintenance, if the Hospital will pay their passage out and home. Some may say--An unnecessary expense--a problematical benefit. Be it so. I believe that it will not be such; that it may save many lives--they may revive: but were it not so, I would still say Give. Let them go, even if every soul in that ship were doomed. Let them go. Let them drink the fresh sea breeze before they die; let them see the green tropic world; let them forget their sorrow for a while; let them feel springing up afresh in them the celestial fount of hope. We let the guilty criminal eat and drink well the morn ere he is led forth to die--shall we not do as much by those who are innocent? But especially would I say, try to lessen such suffering as that for which I plead to-day, because it is undeserved in the true sense of that word--not earned by any act of their own. These poor souls suffer for no sins of their own; they have done nothing to bring on themselves a disease which attacks too often the fairest, the seemingly strongest and healthiest, the most temperate and most pure. They suffer, some it may be for the sins of their forefathers, some from causes of disease which science cannot as yet control, cannot even discover. They are objects of unmixed pity and sympathy: they should be so to us; for they are so to Him who made them. On this disease God does bestow a special alleviation--a special mark of His pity, of His tenderness, in a word of His grace. That unclouded intellect, that unruffled temper, that cheerful resignation, that brave and yet calm facing of the inevitable future, that ever-fresh hope, which is no delusion but a token that God Himself has taken away the sting of death and the victory of the grave, till the very thought of death has vanished, or is looked on merely as the gate to a life of health, and strength, and peace, and joy:--all these symptoms, so common, so normal, all but universal--this Euthanasia which God has provided for those who, humanly speaking, are innocent, yet must, for the general good of humanity, leave this world for another;-- what are they but the voice of God to us, telling that He loves, that He pities, that He alleviates; and bidding us go and do likewise? God has alleviated where we cannot. He has bidden us thereby, if His likeness and spirit be indeed in us, to alleviate where we can; and believe that by every additional comfort, however petty, which we provide, we are copying the Ideal Man, who, because He was very God of very God, could condescend, at the marriage feast, to turn the water into wine. SERMON XXXVI. USELESS SACRIFICE Preached at Southsea for the Mission of the Good Shepherd. October 1871. Isaiah i. 11-17. "To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the Lord: . . . When ye come to appear before me, who hath required this at your hand, to tread my courts? Bring no more vain oblations; incense is an abomination to me; the new moons and sabbaths, the calling of assemblies, I cannot away with; it is iniquity, even the solemn meeting. Your new moons and your appointed feasts my soul hateth: they are a trouble to me; I am weary to bear them. And when ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you: yea, when ye make many prayers, I will not hear: your hands are full of blood. Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine eyes; cease to do evil; learn to do well; seek judgement, relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow." I have been asked to plead to-day for the mission of the Good Shepherd in Portsea. I am informed that Portsea contains some thirteen thousand souls, divided between two parishes. That they, as I feared, include some of the most ignorant and vicious of both sexes which can be found in the kingdom; that there are few or no rich people in the place; that the rich who have an interest in the labour of these masses live away from the place, and from the dwellings of those whom they employ--a social evil new to England; but growing, alas! fearfully common in it; and that vice, and unthrift, uncertain wages, and unhealthy dwellings produce there, as elsewhere, misery and savagery most deplorable. I am told, too, that this mission has been working, nobly and self-denyingly, among these unhappy people for some years past. That it can, and ought to largely extend its operations; that it is in want of fresh funds; that it is proposed to build a new church, which, it is hoped, will be a centre of civilization and organization, as well as of religion and morality, for the district; and I am bidden to invite you, as close neighbours of Portsea, to help in the good work. I, of course, know too little of local facts, or of the temper of the people of Southsea. But I am bound to believe it to be the same as I have found it elsewhere. And I therefore shall confine myself to general questions, and shall treat this case of Portsea, as what it is, alas! one among a hundred similar ones, and say to you simply what I have said for twenty-five years, wherever and whenever I can get a hearing. And therefore if I seem here and there to speak sharply and sternly, recollect that I pay you a compliment in so doing--first, that I speak not to you, but to all English men and women; and next, that I speak as to those who have noble instincts, if they will be only true to them:--as to English people, who are not afraid of being told the truth; to English people who do wrong rather from forgetfulness and luxury, than from meanness and cruelty aforethought; who, as far as I have seen, need, for the most part, only to be reminded that they are doing wrong, to reawaken them to their better selves, and set them trying honestly and bravely to do right. Let me then begin this sermon with a parable. Alas! that the parable should represent a common and notorious fact. Suppose yourselves in some stately palace, amid marbles and bronzes, statues and pictures, and all that cunning brain and cunning hand, when wedded to the high instinct of beauty, can produce. The furniture is of the very richest, and kept with the most fastidious cleanliness. The floors of precious wood are polished like mirrors. The rooms have every appliance for the ease of the luxurious inmates. Everywhere you see, not mere brute wealth, but taste, purity, and comfort. There is no lack of intellect either:--wise and learned books fill the library shelves; maps and scientific instruments crowd the tables. Nor of religion either;--for the house contains a private chapel, fitted up in the richest style of mediaeval ecclesiastical art. And as you walk along from polished floor to polished floor, you seem to pass in review every object which the body, or the mind, or the spirit, of the most civilized human being can need for its satisfaction. But, next to the chapel itself, a scent of carrion makes you start. You look, against the will of your smart and ostentatious guide, through a half-open door, and see another sight--a room, dark and foul, mildewed and ruinous; and, swept carelessly into a corner, a heap of dirt, rags, bones, waifs and strays of every kind, decaying all together. You ask, with astonishment and disgust, how comes that there? and are told, to your fresh astonishment and disgust, that that is only where the servants sweep the litter. But crouching behind the litter, in the darkest corner, something moves. You go up to it, in spite of the entreaties of your guide, and find an aged idiot gibbering in her rags. Who is she? Oh, an old servant--or a child, or possibly a grand-child, of some old servant--your guide does not remember which. She is better out of the way there in the corner. At all events she can find plenty to eat among the dirt-heap; and as for her soul, if she has one, the clergyman is said to come and see her now and then, so probably it will be saved. Would you not turn away from that palace with the contemptuous thought-- Civilized? Refined? These people's civilization is but skin-deep. Their refinement is but an outside show. Look into the first back room, and you find that they are foul barbarians still. And yet such, literally such and no better, is the refinement of modern England; such, and no better, is the civilization of our great towns. Such I fear from what I am told, is the civilization of Southsea, beside the barbarism to be found in Portsea close at hand. Dirt and squalor, brutality and ignorance close beside such luxury as the world has not seen, it may be, since the bad days of Heathen Rome. But more, if you turned away, you would say to yourselves, if you were thoughtful persons--not only what barbarism, but what folly. The owner and his household are in daily danger. The idiot in discontent, or even in mere folly, may seize a lighted candle, burn petroleum, as she did in Paris of late, and set the whole palace on fire. And more, the very dirt is in itself inflammable, and capable, as it festers, of spontaneous combustion. How many a stately house has been burnt down ere now, simply by the heating of greasy rags, thrust away in some neglected closet. Let the owner of the house beware. He is living, voluntarily, over a volcano of his own making. But more--what if you were told that the fault lay not so much in the negligence of servants as in that of the owner himself, that the master of that palace had over him a King, to whom all that was foul, neglectful, cruel, was inexpressibly hateful, so hateful that He once had actually stepped off the throne of the universe to die for such creatures as that poor idiot and her forgotten parents? Would you not question whether the prayers offered up in that chapel would have any answer from Him, save that awful answer He once gave? "When ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes: yea, when ye make many prayers, I will not hear; your hands are full of blood." Oh, my friends, you who understand my parable, has the awful thought never struck you that such may be God's answer to the prayers of a nation which leaves in its midst such barbarism, such heathenism, as exists in every great town of this realm? And what if you were told next that the laws of His kingdom were eternal and inexorable, and that one of His cardinal laws is--that as a man sows, so shall he reap; that every sin punishes itself, even though the sinner does not know that he has sinned; that he who knew not his master's will, and did it not, shall be beaten with few stripes; that the innocent babe does not escape unburnt, because it knew not that fire burns; that the good man who lives in a malarious alley does not escape fever and cholera, because he does not know that dirt breeds pestilence; that, in a word, he who knew not his master's will, and did it not, shall be beaten with few stripes; but that he who knew his master's will, and did it not, shall be beaten with many stripes? Then of how many and how heavy stripes, think you, will the inhabitant of that palace be counted worthy, who has been taught by Christianity for the last fifteen hundred years, and by physical science and political economy for the last fifty years, and yet persists, in defiance of his own knowledge, in leaving his used-up servants, and their children and grand-children after them, to rot, body, mind, and soul, in the very precincts of the palace, having no other excuse to offer for this than that it is too much trouble to treat them better, and that, on the whole, he can make money more rapidly by thus throwing away that human dirt, and leaving it to decay where it can, regardless what it pollutes and poisons; just as the manufacturer can make money more rapidly by not consuming his own smoke, but letting it stream out of the chimney to poison with blackness and desolation the green fields where God meant little children to gather flowers? Ladies, to you I appeal, not merely as women, but as Ladies, if (as I am assured by those who know you), ladies you are, in the grand old meaning of that grand old word. If so--you know then, what it is to be a lady and what not. You know that it is not to go, like the daughters of Zion in Isaiah's time, with mincing gait, and borrowed head-gear, and tasteless finery, the head well-nigh empty, the heart full of little save vanity and vexation of spirit, busy all the week over cheap novels and expensive dresses, and on Sunday over a little dilettante devotion. You know, I take for granted, that whatever the world may think or say, that to be that, is not to be a lady. For you know, I take for granted, what that word lady meant at first. That it meant she who gave out the loaves, the housewife who provided food and clothes; the stewardess of her household and dependants; the spinner among her maidens; the almsgiver to the poor; the worshipper in the chapel, praying for wild men away in battle. The being from whom flowed forth all gracious influences of thought and order, of bounty and compassion, of purity and piety, civilizing and Christianizing a whole family, a whole domain. This it was to be a lady, in the old days when too many men had little care save to make war. And this it is to be a lady still, in the new days in which too many men have little care save to make money. Show then that you can be ladies still. That the spirit is the spirit of your ancestresses, though the form in which it must show itself is changed with the change of society. To you I appeal; to as many in this church as are ladies, not in name only, but in spirit and in truth. Say to your fathers, husbands, brothers, sons, and say too, and that boldly, to the tradesmen with whom you deal--Do you hear this? Do you hear that there are savages and heathens, generations of them, within a rifle-shot of the house? And you cannot exterminate them; cannot drive them out, much less kill them. You must convert them, improve them, make them civilized and Christian, if not for their own sakes, at least for our sakes, and for our children. And if they should answer: My dears, it is too true. But we did not make them or put them there, and they are not in our parish. They are no concern of ours, and besides they will not hurt us. Answer them: Not made by our fault! True, our hands are more or less clean: but what of that? There they are. If you had a tribe of Red Indians on the frontier of your settlement, would you take the less guard against them, because you did not put them there? Not in our parish, and what of that? They are in our county; they are in England. Has man the right, has man the power in the sight of God to draw any imaginary line of demarcation between Englishman and Englishman, especially when that line is drawn between rich and poor? England knows no line of demarcation, save the shore of the great sea; and even that her generosity is overleaping at this moment at the call of mere humanity, in bounty to sufferers by the West Indian hurricane, and by the Chicago fire. Will you send your help across the Atlantic; and deny it to the sufferers at your own doors? At least, if the rich be confined by an imaginary line across, the poor on the other side will not--they will cross it freely enough; and what they will bring with them will be concern enough of ours. Would it not be our concern if there was small- pox, scarlet fever, cholera among them? Should we not fear lest that might hurt us? Would you not bestir yourselves then? And do you not know that it is among such people as these that pestilence is always bred? And if not, is not the pestilence of the soul more subtle and more contagious than any pestilence of the body? What is the spreading power of fever to the spreading power of vice, which springs from tongue to tongue, from eye to eye, from heart to heart? What matter whether they be one mile off or five? Will not they corrupt our servants; and those servants again our children? And say to them, if you be prudent and thrifty housewives, Do not tell us that their condition costs you nothing. Even in pocket you are suffering now--as all England is suffering--from the existence of heathens and savages, reckless, profligate, pauperized. For if you pay no poor-rates for their support, the shop-keepers with whom you deal pay poor-rates; and must and do repay themselves, out of your pockets, in the form of increased prices for their goods. And when you have said all this, ladies, and more,--for more will suggest itself to your woman's wit,--say to them with St Paul--"And yet show we unto you a more excellent way,"--a nobler argument--and that is Charity. Not almsgiving. I had almost said, anything but that; making bad worse, the improvident more improvident, the liar more ready to lie, the idler more ready to idle. But the Charity which is Humanity, which is the spirit of pure pity, the Spirit of Christ and of God. Say then, Even if these poor creatures did us no harm, as they must and will do--civilize and christianize them for their own sakes, simply because they must be so very miserable--miserable too often with acute and conscious misery; too often with a worse misery, dull and unconscious, which knows not, stupified by ignorance and vice, that it is miserable, and ought to be more miserable still. For who is so worthy of our pity, as he who knows not that he is pitiable?--who takes ignorance, dirt, vice, passion, and the wretchedness which vice and passion bring, as all in the day's work, as he takes the rain and hail, the frost and snow,--as unavoidable necessities of mortal life, for which the only temporary alleviation is--drink? If the refined and pure-minded lady does not pity such beings as that, I know not of what her refinement is made. If the religious lady will not bestir herself, and make sacrifices to teach such people that that is not what God meant them to be--to stir up in them a noble self-discontent, a noble self-abhorrence, which may be the beginning of repentance and amendment of life--I know not of what her religion is made. One word more--I know that such thoughts as I have put before you to-day are painful. I know that we all--I as much as anyone in this church--are tempted to put them by, and say, I will think of things beautiful, not of things ugly; of art, poetry, science--all that is orderly, graceful, ennobling; and not of dirt, ignorance, vice, misery, all that is disorderly, degrading. Nay, even the most pious at times are tempted to say, I will think of heaven and not of earth. I will lift up my heart, and try to behold the glory and the goodness of God, and not the disgrace and sin of man. But only for a time may they thus think and speak. Happy if they can, at moments, lift up their hearts unto the Lord, and catch one glimpse of Him enthroned in perfect serenity and perfect order, governing the worlds with that all-embracing justice, which is at the same time all-embracing love, and so, giving Him thanks for His great glory, gain heart and hope to--what? To descend again, even were it from the beatific vision itself, to this disordered earth, to work a little--and, alas how little- -at lessening the sum of human ignorance, human vice, human misery--even as their Lord and Saviour stooped from the throne of the universe, and from the bosom of the Father, to toil and die for such as curse about the streets outside. SERMON XXXVII. THE SURPRISE OF THE RIGHTEOUS Preached at Southsea for the Mission of the Good Shepherd. October 1871. St Matt. xxv. 34-37. "Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we Thee an hungred, and fed Thee? or thirsty, and gave Thee drink?" Let us consider awhile this magnificent parable, and consider it carefully, lest we mistake its meaning. And let us specially consider one point about it, which is at first sight puzzling, and which has caused, ere now, many to miss (as I believe, with some of the best commentators, ) the meaning of the whole--which is this: that the righteous in the parable did not know that when they did good to their fellow-creatures, they did it to Christ the Lord. Now there are two kinds of people who do know that, because they have been taught it by Holy Scripture, who would make two very different answers to the Lord, when He spoke in such words to them. At least so we may suppose, for they are ready to make such answers here on earth; and therefore, we may suppose that if they dared, they would answer so at the day of judgment. One party would--or at least might say, "Yes, Lord, I knew that whatever I did to the poor, I did to Thee; and therefore I did all I could for the poor. I started charitable institutions, I spoke at missionary meetings, I put my name down for large sums in every subscription list, I built churches and chapels, schools and hospitals; I gained the reputation among men of being a leading philanthropist, foremost in every good work." What answer the man who said that would receive from the Lord, I know not; for who am I that I should put words into the mouth of my Creator and my God? But I think that the awful majesty of the Lord's very countenance might strike such a man dumb, ere he had time to say those vain proud words, and strike his conscience through with the thought, Yes, I have been charitable: but have I been humane? I have been a philanthropist: but have I really loved my fellow-men? Have I not made my interest in the heathen whom I have not seen, an excuse for despising and hating my countrymen whom I have seen, if they dared to differ from me in religion or in politics? I have given large sums in charity: but have I ever sacrificed anything for my fellow-men? I have given Christ back a pound in every hundred--perhaps even out of every ten which He has given me: but what did I do with the other nine pounds save spend them on myself? Is there a luxury in which a respectable man could safely indulge, which I have denied myself? What have I been after all, with all my philanthropy and charity, but a selfish, luxurious, pompous personage? an actor doing my alms to be seen of men? I did my good works as unto Christ?--No; I did them as unto myself--to get honour from men while I lived, and to save my selfish soul when I died. God be merciful to me a sinner! That such thoughts ought to pass through too many persons' hearts in this generation, I fear is too certain. God grant that they may do so before it is too late. But it is plain, at least, that these are not the sheep of whom Christ speaks. Again, there are another, and a very different kind of persons, who we have a right to fancy, would answer the Lord somewhat thus: "Oh Lord, speak not of it. It may be I have tried to do a little good to a poor suffering creature here and there; to feed a few hungry, clothe a few naked, visit a few sick and prisoners. But Lord, how could I do less? after all that Thou hast done and suffered for me; and after Thy own gracious saying, that inasmuch as I did anything to the least of Thy brethren, I did it to Thee. What less could I do, Lord?--and after all, what a pitifully small amount I have done! Thou did'st hunger for me-- for whom have I ever hungered? Thou did'st suffer for me--for whom have I ever suffered? Thou did'st die for me--for whom have I ever died? And I did not--I fear in the depth of my heart--do what I did really for Thee; but for the very pleasure of doing it. I began to do good from a sense of duty to Thee; but after a while I did good, I fear, only because it was so pleasant--so pleasant to see human faces looking up into mine with gratitude; so pleasant to have little children, even though they were none of my own, clinging to me in trust; so pleasant when I went home at night to feel that I had made one human being a little happier, a little better, even only a little more comfortable; so pleasant to give up my own pleasure, in order to give pleasure to others, that I fear I forgot Thee in my own enjoyment. If I sinned in that, Lord forgive. But at least, I have had my reward. My work among Thy poor was its own reward, a reward of inward happiness beyond all that earth can give--and now Thou speakest of rewarding me over and above, with I know not what of undeserved bliss. Thou art too good, O Lord, as is Thy wont from all eternity. Let me go and hide myself--a more than unprofitable servant, who has not done the hundredth part of that which it was my duty to do." What answer the Lord would make to the modest misgivings of that sweet soul, I cannot say; for again, who am I, that I should put words into the mouth of my Creator and my God? But this I know, that I had rather be-- what I am not, and never shall be--such a soul as that in the last day, than own all the kingdoms of the world and the glory thereof. Still, it is plain that such persons, however holy, however loving, are not those of whom our Lord speaks in this parable. For they, too, know, and must know, that inasmuch as they showed mercy unto one of the least of the Lord's brethren, they showed it unto Him. But the special peculiarity of the persons of whom our Lord speaks, is that they did not know, that they had no suspicion, that in showing kindness to men, they were showing kindness to Christ. "Lord," they answer, "when saw we Thee?" It is a revelation to them, in the strictest and deepest sense of the word. A revelation, that is an unveiling, a drawing away of a veil which was before their eyes and hiding from them a divine and most blessed fact, of which they had been unaware. But who are they? I think we must agree with some of the best commentators, among others with that excellent divine and excellent man, now lost to the Church on earth, the late Dean of Canterbury, that they are persons who, till the day of judgment, have never heard of Christ; but who then, for the first time, as Dean Alford says, "are overwhelmed with the sight of the grace which has been working in and for them, and the glory which is now their blessed portion." Such persons, perhaps, as those two poor negresses--to remind you of a story which was famous in our fathers' time--those two poor negresses, I say, who found the African traveller, Mungo Park, dying of fever and starvation, and saved his life, simply from human love--as they sung to themselves by his bedside-- "Let us pity the poor white man; He has no mother to make his bed, No wife to grind his corn." Perhaps it is such as those, who have succoured human beings they knew not why, simply from a divine instinct, from the voice of Christ within their hearts, which they felt they must obey, though they knew not whose voice it was. Perhaps, I say, it is such as those, that Christ will astonish at the last day by the words, "Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." If this be the true meaning of our Lord's words, what comfort and hope they may give us, when we think, as we are bound to think, if we have a true humanity in us, of the hundreds of millions of heathen now alive, and of the thousands of millions of heathen who have lived and died. Sinful they are as a whole. Sinning, it may be, without law, but perishing without law. For the wages of sin are death, and can be nothing else. But may not Christ have His elect among them? May not His Spirit be working in some of them? May He not have His sheep among them, who hear His voice though they know not that it is His voice? They hear a voice within their hearts whispering to them, "Be loving, be merciful, be humane, in one word be just, and do to others as you would they should do to you." And whose voice can that be but the voice of Christ, and the Spirit of God? Those loving instincts come not from the fleshly fallen nature, or natural man. That says to us, "Be selfish; do not be loving. Do to others not what you would they should do to you, but do to others whatever is pleasant and profitable to yourselves." And alas! the heathen, and too many who call themselves Christians, listen to that carnal voice, and live the life of selfishness and pleasure, of anger and revenge, of tyranny and cruelty--the end of which is death. But if any among those heathen--hearing within their hearts the other voice, the gracious voice which says, "Do unto others as you would they should do unto you,"--feel that that voice is a good voice and a right command, which must be obeyed, and which it is beautiful and delightful to obey, and so obey it; may we not hope then, that Christ, who has called them, will perfect His own work; and in His own good way, and His own good time, deliver them from their sin and ignorance, and vouchsafe to them at last that knowledge of the true and holy God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, whom truly to know is everlasting life? They are Christ's lost sheep: but they are still His sheep who hear His voice. May He not fulfil His own words to them, and go forth and seek such souls, and lay them on His shoulder, and bring them home; saying to His Church on earth, and to His Church in heaven, "Rejoice with Me: for I have found my sheep which was lost?" Now if we can thus have hope for some among the heathen abroad, shall we not have hope, too, for some among the heathen at home? for some among that mass of human corruption which welters around the walls of so many of our cities? I am not going to make vain excuses for them; and say they are but the victims of circumstance. The great majority of them are the victims of their own low instincts. They have chosen the broad and easy road of animalism, which leads to destruction. They have sown to the flesh, and they will of the flesh reap corruption. For the laws of God are inexorable; and the curse of the law is sure, namely, "The wages of sin are death." Neither dare I encourage too vast hopes and say, If we had money enough, if we had machinery enough, if we had zeal enough, we might convert them all, and save them all. I dare not believe it. The many, I fear, will always go the broad road; the few the narrow one. And all we dare say is, if we have faith enough, we can convert some. We can at least fulfil our ordination vow. We can seek out Christ's sheep scattered abroad about this naughty world, and tell them of His fold, and try to bring them home. But how shall we know Christ's sheep when we see them? How, but by the very test which Christ has laid down, it seems to me, in this very parable? Is there in one of them the high instincts--even the desire to do a merciful act? Let us watch for that: and when in the most brutal man, and--alas that I should have to use the words--in the most brutal woman, we see any touch of nobleness, justice, benevolence, pity, tenderness--in one word, any touch, however momentary, of unselfishness,- -let us spring at that, knowing that there is the soul we seek; there is a lost sheep of Christ; there is Christ Himself, working unknown upon a human soul; there is a soul ready for the gospel, and not far from the kingdom of God. But what shall we say to that lost sheep? Shall we terrify it by threats of hell? Shall we even allure it by promises of heaven? Not so--not so at least at first--for that would be to appeal to bodily fear and bodily pleasure, to the very selfishness from which Christ is trying to deliver it; and to neglect the very prevenient grace, the very hold on the soul which Christ Himself offers us. Let us determine with St. Paul to know nothing among our fellow-men but Christ crucified. Let us appeal just to that in the soul which is unselfish; not to the instincts of loss and gain, but to those nobler instincts of justice and mercy; just because they are not the man's or the woman's instincts; but Christ's within them, the light of Christ and the Spirit of Christ, the spirit of love and justice saying, "Do unto others as you would they should do unto you." Do you doubt that? I trust not. For to doubt that is to doubt whether God be truly the Giver of all good things. To doubt that is to begin to disbelieve St. Paul's great saying, "In me, that is, in my flesh, dwelleth no good thing." To doubt that is to lay our hearts and minds open to the insidious poison of that Pelagian heresy which, received under new shapes and names, is becoming the cardinal heresy of modern disbelief. No; we will have faith in Christ, faith in our creeds, faith in catholic doctrine; and will say to that man or that woman, even as they wallow still in the darkness and the mire, "Behold your God! That cup of cold water which you gave, you knew not why,-- Christ told you to give it, and to Him you gave. That night watch beside the bed of a woman as fallen as yourself,--Christ bade you watch, and you watched by Him. For that drunken ruffian, whom you, a drunken ruffian yourself, leaped into the sea to save, Christ bade you leap, and like St. Christopher of old, you bore, though you knew it not, your Saviour and your God to land." And if they shall make answer, "And who is He that I did not know Him? who is He that I should know Him now?" Let us point them--and whither else should we point them in heaven or earth?--to Christ upon the cross, and say, "Behold your God! This He did, this He condescended, this He dared, this He suffered for you, and such as you. This is what He, the Maker of the universe, is like. This is what He has been trying to make you like, in your small degree, every time a noble, a generous, a pitiful, a merciful emotion crossed your heart; every time you forgot yourself, even for a moment, and thought of the welfare of a fellow-man." If that tale, if that sight, if that revelation and unveiling of Christ to the poor sinful soul does not work in it an abhorrence of past sin, a craving after future holiness, an admiration and a reverence for Christ Himself, which is, ipso facto, saving faith; if that soul does not reply- -it may not be in words, but in feelings too deep for words,--"Yes; this is indeed noble, indeed Godlike, worthy of a God, and worthy therefore to be at once imitated and adored:" then, indeed, the Cross of Christ must have lost that miraculous power which it has possessed, for more than eighteen hundred years, as the highest "moral ideal" which ever was seen, or ever can be seen, by the reason and the heart of man. SERMON XXXVIII. THE LORD'S PRAYER Windsor Castle, 1867. Chester Cathedral, 1870. Matthew vi. 9, 10. "After this manner, therefore, pray ye, Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." Let us think for a while on these great words. Let us remember that some day or other they will certainly be fulfilled. Let us remember that Christ would not have bidden us use them, unless He intended that they should be fulfilled. And let us remember, likewise, that we must help to fulfil them. We need to be reminded of this from time to time, for we are all inclined to forget it. We are inclined to forget that mankind has a Father in heaven, who is ruling, and guiding, and educating us, His human children, to "One far off divine event, Toward which the whole creation moves." We are apt to fancy that the world will always go on very much as it goes on now; that it will be guided, not by the will of God, but by the will of man; by man's craft; by man's ambition; by man's self-interest; by man's cravings after the luxuries, and even after the mere necessities of this life. In a word, we are apt to fancy that man, not God, is the master of this earth on which we live, and that men have no king over them in heaven. The Lord's Prayer tells us that men HAVE a king over them in heaven, and that that king is a Father likewise--a Father whose name will one day be hallowed above all names. That the world will not always go on as it goes on now, but that the Father's kingdom will come. That above the will of man, there is a will of God, which must be done, and therefore will be done some day. In a word, the Lord's Prayer tells us that this world is under a Divine government; that the Lord, even Jesus Christ our Saviour, is King, be the people never so impatient. That He sitteth between the cherubim, master of all the powers of nature, be the earth never so unquiet. That His power loves justice. That He has prepared equity. That He has executed, and therefore will execute to the end, judgment and righteousness in the earth. That Christ reigns in justice and in love. That He has for those who disobey His laws the most terrible penalties; for those who obey them blessings such as eye hath not seen nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive. That He must reign till He has put all enemies under His feet and delivered up the kingdom to God, even the Father. That on that great day He will prove His royalty, and His Father's royalty, in the sight of all heaven and earth, and make every soul of man aware, in a fashion which none shall mistake, that He is Lord and King. This is the message which the Lord's Prayer brings--a message of mingled fear and joy. But a message of more joy than fear. Else why does our Lord bid us pray for it that it may come to pass?--pray daily, before we even pray for our daily bread, or the forgiveness of our sins--that His Father's name may be hallowed, His Father's kingdom come, His Father's will be done? He bids us pray for that because it will bring blessings. Blessings to every soul of man who desires to be good and true. Because it will satisfy every aspiration which has ever risen up from the heart of man after what is noble, what is generous, what is just, what is useful, what is pure. Surely it is so. Consider but these short words of my text, and think what the world would be like if they were fulfilled; what the next world will actually be like when they are fulfilled. "Hallowed be thy name." But what name? The name of Father. If that name were hallowed by men, there would be an end of all superstitions. The root of all superstitions, fanaticisms, and false religions is this-- that they do not hallow the name of Father. They do not see that it is a Holy name, a beautiful and tender as well as an awful and venerable name. They think of fathers, like too many among themselves, proud, and arbitrary, selfish and cruel. They say in their hearts, even such fathers as we are, such is God. Therefore, they shrink from God, and turn from Him to idols, to the Virgin Mary, or Saints, or any other beings who can deliver them (as they fancy) out of the hands of their Father in heaven. If men once learnt to hallow the name of Father, to think of a father as one who not only possessed power but felt love, who not only had rights which he would enforce, and issued commands which must be obeyed, but who felt yearning sympathy for his children's weakness, an active interest in their education, and was ready to labour for, to sacrifice himself for, his family--That would be truly to hallow the name of Father, and look on it as a holy thing, whether in heaven above or in earth beneath. To hallow the Father's name would abolish all the superstition of the world. And so the coming of the Father's kingdom would abolish all the misrule and anarchy of the world. For the kingdom of God the Father is a kingdom of perfect order, perfect justice, perfect usefulness. Surely the first consequences of that kingdom's coming would be, that every one would be exactly in his right place, and that every one would get his exact deserts. That would indeed be the kingdom of God on earth. The prospect of such a kingdom would be painful enough to those who were in their wrong place, to those who were undeserving. All who were useless, taking wages either from man or from God, without doing any work in return, all these would have but too good reason to dread the coming of the kingdom of God. But those who were trying earnestly to do their work, though amid many mistakes and failures, why should they dread the coming of the kingdom of God? Why should they shrink from remembering that, though God's kingdom is not come in perfection and fulness, it is here already, and they are in it? Why should they shrink from that thought? They will find it full of comfort, of strength, and hope, if they will but hallow their Father's name, and remember the fact of all facts--that they have a Father in heaven. There are thousands on earth, from the highest to the lowest, who can say honestly--to take the commonest instance--every parent can say it--"I have a heavy work to do, a heavy responsibility to fulfil. God knows I did not seek it, thrust myself into it; it was thrust upon me. It came to me in the course of nature or of society, and circumstances over which I had no control. In one word it was MY DUTY. But now that I have my duty to do, behold I cannot do it. I try my best, but I fail. I come short daily of my own low standard of duty. How much more of God's perfect standard of it! And the burden of responsibility, the regret for failure, is more than I can bear. To such we may answer, hallow your Father's name, and be of good cheer. YOUR FATHER has given you your work. Because He is a Father, He is surely educating you for your work. Because He is a Father, He will surely set you no task which you are unable to fulfil. Because He is a Father, He will help you to fulfil your task. Your station and calling is His will; and because it is a Father's will it is a good will. And the Judge of your work--He is no stern taskmaster, no unfeeling tyrant, but Jesus Christ, your Lord, who died for you on the Cross. He knows what is in man. He remembereth that we are but dust. Else the spirit would fail before Him and the souls which He has made. He can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, seeing that He was tempted in all things like as we are, yet without sin. He can sympathise utterly; He can make all just allowances; He will judge not by outward results, but by the inward will and desire. He will judge not by the hearing of the ear, nor the seeing of the eye, as the shallow cruel world judges, but He will judge righteous judgment. Trust your cause to Him, and trust yourself to Him. Believe that if He can sympathise, He can also help; for from Him, as well as from His Father, proceeds the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of power and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord, and He will inspire you to see your duty, and do your duty, and rejoice in your duty, in spite of weariness and failure, and all the burdens of the flesh and of the spirit. "Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." If that were done, it would abolish all the vice of the world, and therefore the misery which springs from vice. Ah, that God's will were but done on earth as it is in the material heaven overhead, in perfect order and obedience, as the stars roll in their courses, without rest, yet without haste; as all created things, even the most awful, fire and hail, snow and vapour, wind and storm, fulfil God's word, who hath made them sure for ever and ever, and given them a law which shall not be broken. But above them; above the divine and wonderful order of the material universe, and the winds which are God's angels, and the flames of fire which are His messengers; above all, the prophets and apostles have caught sight of another divine and wonderful order of RATIONAL beings, of races, loftier and purer than man--angels and archangels, thrones and dominions, principalities and powers, fulfilling God's will in heaven as it is not alas! fulfilled on earth. And beside them, beside the innumerable company of angels, are there not the spirits of just men made perfect, freed from the fetters of the gross animal body, and now somewhere in that boundless universe in which this earth is but a tiny speck, doing God's will, as they longed to do it on earth, with clearer light, fuller faith, deeper love, mightier powers of usefulness? Ah, that we were like to them! Ah, that we could perform the least part of our day's work on earth as it is performed by saints and angels for ever in heaven! When we think of what this poor confused world is, and then what it might be, were God's will done therein as it is done in heaven; what it might be if even the little of God's will which we already know, the little of God's laws which are proved already to be certain, were carried out with any earnestness by the majority of mankind, or even of one civilized nation--when we think--to take the very lowest ground--of the health and wealth, the peace and happiness, which would cover this earth did men only do the will of God; then, if we have human hearts within us--if we care at all for the welfare of our fellow- men--ought not this to be the prayer of all our prayers, and ought we not to welcome any event, however awful, which would bring mankind to reason and to virtue, and to God, and abolish the sin and misery of this unhappy world? To abolish the superstition, the misrule, the vice, the misery of this world. That is what Christ will do in the day when He has put all enemies under His feet. That is what Christ has been doing, step by step, ever since that day when first He came to do His Father's will on earth in great humility. Therefore, that is what we must do, each in our place and station, if we be indeed His subjects, fellow-workers with Him in the improvement of the human race, fellow-soldiers with Him in the battle against evil. But what we wish to do for our fellow-creatures, we must do first for ourselves. We can give them nothing save what God has already given us. We must become good before we can make them good, and wise before we can make them wise. Let us pray, then, the Lord's Prayer in spirit and in truth. Let us pray that we may hallow the name of God, our Father. Let us pray that His kingdom may come in our own hearts. Let us pray that we may do His will on earth as those whom we love and honour do it in heaven. Let us keep that before us, day and night, as the aim and purpose of our lives. Let us pray for forgiveness of our failures in that; for help to do that better as our years run on. So we shall be ready for the day in which Christ shall have accomplished the number of His elect, and hastened His kingdom. So we shall be found in that dread day, not on the side of evil, but of God; not on the side of darkness, anarchy, and vice, but on the side of light, of justice, and of virtue, which is the side of Christ and of God. And so we, with all those that are departed in the faith of His holy name, shall have our perfect consummation and bliss in His eternal and everlasting glory, to which may He, of His great mercy, bring us all. Amen. SERMON XXXIX. THE DISTRACTED MIND Eversley. 1871. Matthew vi. 34. "Take no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." Scholars will tell you that the words "take no thought" do not exactly express our Lord's meaning in this text. That they should rather stand, "Be not anxious about to-morrow." And doubtless they are right on the whole. But the truth is, that we have no word in English which exactly expresses the Greek word which St Matthew uses in his gospel, and which we are bound to believe exactly expresses our Lord's meaning, in whatever language He spoke. The nearest English word, I believe, is--distracted. Be ye not distracted about to-morrow. I do not mean the vulgar sense of the word--which is losing one's senses. But the old and true sense, which is still used by those who speak good English. To distract, means literally to pull a thing two different ways--even to pull it asunder. We speak of distracting a man's attention, when we call him off from looking at one thing to make him look at something else, and we call anything which interrupts us in our business, or puts a thought suddenly out of our heads, a distraction. Now the Greek word which St Matthew uses, means very nearly this--Be not divided in your thoughts--do not think of two things at once--do not distract your attention from to- day's work, by fearing and hoping about to-morrow. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof; and you will have quite trouble enough to get through to-day honestly and well, without troubling yourself with to- morrow--which may turn out very unlike anything which you can dream. This, I think, is the true meaning of the text; and with it, I think, agrees another word of our Lord's which St Luke gives--And be ye not of doubtful mind. Literally, Do not be up in the air--blown helpless hither and thither, by every gust of wind, instead of keeping on the firm ground, and walking straight on about your business, stoutly and patiently, step after step. Have no vain fears or vain hopes about the future; but do your duty here and now. That is our Lord's command, and in it lies the secret of success in life. For do we not find, do we not find, my friends, in practice, that our Lord's words are true? Who are the people who get through most work in their lives, with the least wear and tear, not merely to their bodily health, but to their tempers and their characters? Are they the anxious people? Those who imagine to themselves possible misfortunes, and ask continually--What if this happened--or that? What would become of me then? How should I be able to pull through such a trouble? Where shall I find friends? How shall I make myself safe against the chances and changes of life? Do we not know that those people are the very ones who do little work, and often less than none, by thus distracting their attention and their strength from their daily duty, daily business? That while they are looking anxiously for future opportunities, they are neglecting the opportunities which they have already. While they are making interest with others to help them, they forget to help themselves. That in proportion as they lose faith in God and His goodness, they lose courage and lose cheerfulness; and have too often to find a false courage and a false cheerfulness, by drowning their cares in drink, or in mean cunning and plotting and planning, which usually ends in failure and in shame? Are those who do most work, either the plotting or intriguing people? I do not mean base false people. Of them I do not speak here. But really good and kind people, honest at heart, who yet are full of distractions of another sort; who are of double mind--look two ways at once, and are afraid to be quite open, quite straightforward--who like to COMPASS their ends, as the old saying is, that is to go round about, towards what they want, instead of going boldly up to it; who like to try two or more ways of getting the same thing done; and, as the proverb has it, have many irons in the fire; who love little schemes, and plots, and mysteries, even when there is no need for them. Do such people get most work done? Far, far from it. They take more trouble about getting a little matter done, than simpler and braver men take about getting great matters done. They fret themselves, they weary themselves, they waste their brains and hearts--and sometimes their honesty besides--and if they fail, as in the chances and changes of this mortal life they must too often fail, have nothing for all their schemings save vanity and vexation of spirit. But the man who will get most work done, and done with the least trouble, whether for himself, for his family, or in the calling and duty to which God has called him, will be the man who takes our Lord's advice. Who takes no thought for the morrow, and leaves the morrow to take thought for itself. That man will believe that this world is a well-ordered world, as it needs must be, seeing that God made it, God redeemed it, God governs it; and that God is merciful in this--that He rewardeth every man according to his works. That man will take thought for to-day, earnestly and diligently, even at times anxiously and in fear and trembling; but he will not distract, and divide, and weaken his mind by taking thought for to-morrow also. Each day he will set about the duty which lies nearest him, with a whole heart and with a single eye, giving himself to it for the time, as if there was nothing else to be done in the world. As for what he is to do next, he will think little of that. Little, even, will he think of whether his work will succeed or not. That must be as God shall will. All that he is bound to do is to do his best; and his best he can only do by throwing his whole soul into his work. As his day, he trusts his strength will be; and he must not waste the strength which God has given him for to-day on vain fears or vain dreams about to-morrow. To-day is quite full enough of anxiety, of care, of toil, of ignorance. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. Yes; and sufficient for the day is the good thereof likewise. To-day, and to-morrow, too, may end very differently from what he hoped. Yes; but they may end, too, very differently from what he feared. Let him throw his whole soul into the thing which he is about, and leave the rest to God. For so only will he come to the day's end in that wholesome and manful temper, contented if not cheerful, satisfied with the work he has had to do, if not satisfied with the way in which he has done it, which will leave his mind free to remember all his comforts, all his blessings, even to those commonest of all blessings, which we are all too apt to forget, just because they are as necessary as the air we breathe; which will show him how much light there is, even on the darkest day. He has not got this or that fine thing, it may be, for which he longed: but he has at least his life, at least his reason, at least his conscience, at least his God. Are not they enough to possess? Are not they enough wherewith to lie down at night in peace, and rise to-morrow to take what comes to-morrow, even as he took what came to-day? And will he not be most fit to take what comes to-morrow like a Christian man, whether it be good or evil, with his spirit braced and yet chastened, by honest and patient labour, instead of being weakened and irritated by idling over to-day, while he dreamed and fretted about to-morrow? Ah! I fancy that I hear some one say--perhaps a woman--"So easy to preach, but so difficult to practise. So difficult to think of one thing at a time. So difficult not to plot, not to fret, with a whole family of children dependent on you! What does the preacher know of a woman's troubles? How many things she has to think of, day by day, not one of which she dares forget--and yet can seldom or never, for all her recollecting, contrive to get them all done? How can she help being distracted by the thought of to-morrow? Can he feel for frail me? Does he know what I go through?" Yes. I do know; and I wonder, and admire. To me the sight of any poor woman managing her family respectably and thriftily, is one of the most surprising sights on earth, as it is one of the most beautiful sights on earth. How she finds time for it, wit for it, patience for it, courage for it, I cannot conceive. I have wondered often why many a woman does not lie down and die, for sheer weariness of body and soul. I have fancied often that God must give some special grace to all good mothers, to enable them to do all that they do, and bear all they bear. But still, the women who do most, who bring up their families best, are surely those who obey their Lord's command, who give their whole souls to each day's work, and think as little as they can of to-morrow. With them, surely, the true wisdom is, not to fret, not to plot, to do the duty which lies nearest them, and leave the rest to God; to get each week's bill paid, trusting to God to send money for the week to come; to get their children every day to school; to correct in them each fault as it shews itself, without looking forward too much to how the child will turn out at last. For them, and for parents of all ranks, the wisest plan, I believe, is to make no far-fetched plans for their children's future, certainly no ambitious intrigues for their marriage: but simply to educate them--that is, to bring out in them, day by day, all that is purest and best, wisest and ablest, and leave the rest to God; sure that if they are worth anything, their Father in heaven will find them work to do, and a place at His table, in this life and in the life to come. Yes, my dear friends, this is the true philosophy, the philosophy which Christ preaches to us all--to old and young, rich and poor, ploughman and scholar, maid, wife, and widow, all alike. Fret not. Plot not. Look not too far ahead. Fret not--lest you lose temper, and be moved to do evil. Plot not--lest you lose faith in God, and be moved to be dishonest. Look not too far ahead--So far only, as to keep yourselves out of open and certain danger- -lest you see what is coming before you are ready for the sight. If we foresaw the troubles which may be coming, perhaps it would break our hearts; and if we foresaw the happiness which is coming, perhaps it would turn our heads. Let us not meddle with the future, and matters which are too high for us, but refrain our souls, and keep them low, like little children, content with the day's food, and the day's schooling, and the day's play-hours, sure that the Divine Master knows that all is right, and how to train us, and whither to lead us, though we know not, and need not know, save this--that the path by which He is leading each of us--if we will but obey and follow, step by step--leads up to Everlasting Life. SERMON XL. THE LESSON OF LIFE Fifth Sunday in Lent. Chester Training College, 1870. Windsor Castle, 1871. Hebrews v. 7, 8. "Who in the days of His flesh, when He had offered up prayers and supplications with strong crying and tears, unto Him that was able to save Him from death, and was heard in that He feared; though He were a Son, yet learned He obedience by the things which He suffered." This is the lesson of life. This is God's way of educating us, of making us men and women worthy of the name of men and women, worthy of the name of children of God. As Christ learnt, so must we. If it was necessary for Him who know no sin, how much more for us who have sins enough and to spare. Though He was the eternal Son of God, yet He learnt obedience by the things which He suffered. Though we are God's adopted children, we must learn obedience by what we suffer. He had to offer up prayer with strong crying. So shall we have to do again and again before we die. He was heard in that He feared God, and said, "Father not my will, but Thine be done." And so shall we. He was perfected by sufferings. God grant that we may be so likewise. He had to do like us. God grant that we may do like Him. God grant it. That is all I can say. I cannot be sure of it, for myself or for any of you. I can only hope, and trust in God. Life is hard work--any life at least which is worth being called life, which is not the life of a swine, who thinks of nothing but feeding himself, or of a butterfly which thinks of nothing but enjoying itself. Those are easy lives enough: but the end thereof is death. The swine goes to the slaughter. The butterfly dies of the frost--and there is an end of them. But the manly life, the life of good deeds and noble thoughts, and usefulness, and purity, the life which is discontented with itself, and which the better it is, longs the more to be better still; the life which will endure through this world into the world to come, and on and upward for ever and for ever.--That life is not an easy life to live; it is very often not a pleasant life; very often a sad life--so sad that that is true of it which the great poet says-- "Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who never in the midnight hours Sat weeping on his lonely bed, He knows you not, you Heavenly Powers." You may say this is bad news. I do not believe it is. I believe it is good news, and the very best of news: but if it is bad news, I cannot help it. I did not make it so. God made it so. And God must know best. God is love. And we are His children, and He loves us. And therefore His ways with us must be good and loving ways, and any news about them must be good news, and a gospel, though we cannot see it so at first. In any case, if it is so, it is better to remember that it is so. And Lent, and Passion Week, and Good Friday are meant to put us in mind of it year by year, because we are all of us only too ready to forget it, and shut our eyes to it. Lent and Passion Week, I say, are meant to put us in mind. And the preacher is bound to put you in mind of it now and then. He is bound, not too often perhaps, lest he should discourage young hearts, but now and then, to put you in mind of the old Greek proverb, the very words of which St. Paul uses in the text, that ta pa??æata æa??æata--sorrows are lessons; and that the most truly pitiable people often are those who have no sorrows, and ask for no man's pity. For so it is. The very worst calamity, I should say, which could befall any human being would be this--To have his own way from his cradle to his grave; to have everything he liked for the asking, or even for the buying; never to be forced to say, "I should like that: but I cannot afford it. I should like this: but I must not do it"--Never to deny himself, never to exert himself, never to work, and never to want. That man's soul would be in as great danger as if he were committing great crimes. Indeed, he would very probably before he died commit great crimes--like certain negroes whom I have seen abroad, who live a life of such lazy comfort and safety, and superabundance of food, that they are beginning more and more to live the life of animals rather than men. They are like those of whom the Psalmist says, "Their eyes swell out with fatness, and they do even what they lust." So do they, and indulge in gross vices, which, if not checked in some way, will end in destroying them off the face of the earth in a few generations more. I had rather, for the sake of my character, my manhood, my immortal soul, I had rather, I say, a hundred times over, be an English labourer, struggling on on twelve shillings a week, and learning obedience, self-denial, self- respect, and trust in God, by the things suffered in that hard life here at home, than be a Negro in Tropic islands, fattening himself in sloth under that perpetual sunshine, and thinking nought of God, because, poor fool, he can get all he wants without God's help. No, my dear young friends, this is good for a man. It is necessary for a man, if he is to be a man and a child of God, and not a mere animal, to have to work hard whether he likes or not. It is good for a man to bear the yoke in his youth, as Jeremiah told the Jews, when, because they would not bear God's light yoke in their youth, but ran riot into luxury and wantonness, and superstition and idolatry which come thereof, they had to bear the heavy yoke of the Babylonish captivity in their old age. It is good for a man to be checked, crossed, disappointed, made to feel his own ignorance, weakness, folly; made to feel his need of God; to feel that, in spite of all his cunning and self-confidence, he is no better off in this world than a lost child in a dark forest, unless he has a Father in Heaven, who loves him with an eternal love, and a Holy Spirit in Heaven, who will give him a right judgment in all things; who will put into his mind good desires, and enable him to bring those desires to good effect; and a Saviour in Heaven who can be touched with the feeling of his infirmities, because He too was made perfect by sufferings; He too was tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin. And, therefore, my dear friends, those words which we read in the Visitation of the Sick about this matter are not mere kind words, meant to give comfort for the moment. They are truth and fact and sound philosophy. They are as true for the young lad in health and spirits as for the old folk crawling towards their graves. It is true, and you will find it true, that sickness and all sorts of troubles, are sent to correct and amend in us whatever doth offend the eyes of our Heavenly Father. It is true, and you will find it true, that whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth. It is true, and you will find it true (though God knows it is a difficult lesson enough to learn), that there should be no greater comfort to Christian persons, than to be made like Christ, by suffering patiently not only the hard work of every-day life, but adversities, troubles, and sicknesses, and our Heavenly Father's correction, whensoever, by any manner of adversity, it shall please His gracious goodness to visit them. For Christ Himself went not up to joy, but first He suffered pain; He entered not into His glory, before He was crucified. So truly our way to eternal joy is to labour and to suffer here with Christ. It is true, and you will find it true, when years hence you look back, as I trust you all will, calmly and intelligently, on the events of your own lives--you will find, I say, that the very events in your lives which seemed at the time most trying, most vexing, most disastrous, have been those which wore most necessary for you, to call out what was good in you, and to purge out what was bad; that by those very troubles your Lord, who knows the value of suffering, because He has suffered Himself, was making true men, true women of you; hardening your heads, while He softened your hearts; teaching you to obey Him, while He taught you not to obey your own fancies and your own passions; refining and tempering your characters in the furnace of trial, as the smith refines soft iron into trusty steel; teaching you, as the great poet says-- "That life is not as idle ore, But heated hot with burning fears, And bathed in baths of hissing tears, And battered with the strokes of doom, To shape and use." Yes, you will learn that, and more than that, and say in peace--"Before I was troubled I went wrong, but now have I kept thy commandments." And to such an old age may our Lord Jesus Christ bring you and me and all we love. Amen. SERMON XLI. SACRIFICE TO CAESAR OR TO GOD Eversley, 1869. Chester Cathedral, 1872. Matthew xxii. 21. "Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's." Many a sermon has been preached, and many a pamphlet written, on this text, and (as too often has happened to Holy Scripture), it has been made to mean the most opposite doctrines, and twisted in every direction, to suit men's opinions and superstitions. Some have found in it a command to obey tyrants, invaders, any and every government, just or unjust. Others have found in it rules for drawing a line between the authority of the State and of the Church, i.e., between what the Government have a right to command, and what the Clergy have a right to demand; and many more matters have they fancied that they discovered in the text which I do not believe are in it at all. For to understand the original question--Is it lawful to pay tribute to Caesar or no? we must imagine to ourselves a state of things in Judea utterly different, thank God, from anything which has been in these realms for now eight hundred years. The Caesar, or Emperor of Rome, had obtained by conquest an authority over the Jews very like that which we have over the Hindoos in India. And what was working in the mind of the Jews was very like that which was working in the minds of the Hindoos in the Sepoy Rebellion--whether it was not a sacred and religious duty to rise against their conquerors and drive them out. We know from the New Testament that both our Lord and His apostles again and again warned them not to rebel, warned them that they would not succeed: but ruin themselves thereby; for that those who took the sword would perish by the sword. And we know, too, that the Jews would not take our Lord's advice, nor the apostles', but did rise again and again, both in Judea and elsewhere, gallantly and desperately enough, poor creatures, in mad useless rebellion, till the Romans all but destroyed them off the face of the earth. But what has that to do with us, free self-governed Englishmen, in this peaceful and prosperous land? In the early middle age, when the clergy represented and defended Roman pure Christianity and civilization against the half-heathen and half-barbaric Teutons who had conquered the Roman Empire, then doubtless the text became once more full of meaning, and the clergy had again and again to defend the things which belonged to God against the rapacity or the wilfulness of many a barbaric Caesar. But what has that, again, to do with us? Those who apply the text to any questions which can at present arise between the Church and the State, mistake alike, it seems to me, the nature and functions of an Established Church, and the nature and functions of a free Government. Do I mean, then, that the text has nothing to do with us? God forbid! I believe that every word of our Lord's has to do with us, and with every human being, for their meaning is infinite, eternal, and inexhaustible. And what the latter half of the text has to do with us, I will try to show you, while I tell you openly, that the first half of it, about rendering to Caesar the things which are Caesar's, has nothing to do with us, and never need, save through our own cowardice and effeminacy, or folly. We have no Caesar over us in free England, and shall not have, while Queen Victoria, and her children after her reign; but if ever one, or many (which God forbid!), should arise and try to set themselves up as despots over us, I trust we shall know how to render them their due, be they native or foreigner, in the same coin in which our forefathers have always paid tyrants and invaders. No. The only Caesar which we have to fear--and he is a tyrant who seems ready, nowadays, to oppose and exalt himself above all that is called God, or is worshipped,--patronizing, of course, Religion, as a harmless sanction for order and respectability, but dictating morality, while telling us all day long, with a thousand voices and a thousand pens--"Right is not the eternal law of God. Whatever profits me, whatever I like, whatever I vote--that and that alone is right, and you must do it at your peril." Do you know who that Caesar is, my friends? He is called Public Opinion--the huge anonymous idol which we ourselves help to make, and then tremble before the creation of our own cowardice; whereas, if we will but face him, in the fear of God and the faith of Christ, determined to say the thing which is true, and do the thing which is right, we shall find the modern Caesar but a phantom of our own imagination; a tyrant, indeed, as long as he is feared, but a coward as soon as he is defied. To that Caesar let us never bow the knee. Render to him all that he deserves--the homage of common courtesy, common respectability, common charity--not in reverence for his wisdom and strength, but in pity for his ignorance and weakness. But render always to God the things which are God's. That duty, my good friends, lies on us, as on all mankind still, from our cradle to our grave, and after that through all eternity. Let us go back, or rather, let us go home to the eternal laws of God, which were, ages before we were born, and will be, ages after we are dead--to the everlasting Rock on which we all stand, which is the will and mind of our Lord Jesus Christ the Son of God, to whom all power is given (as He said Himself) in heaven and on earth. And we have need to do so, for in such times of change as these are, there will always be too many who fancy that changes in society and government change their duty about religion, and are, some of them, sorely puzzled as to their duty to God: and others ready to take advantage of the change to throw off their duty to God, and run into licence and schism and fanaticism. Now let all people clearly understand, and settle it in their hearts, that no change in Church or in State can change in the least their duty to God and to man. If the world were turned upside down, God would still be where He is, and we where we are--in His presence. Right would still be right, my friends, and wrong wrong, though all the loud voices in the world shouted that wrong is right and right wrong. No change of time, place, society, government, circumstance of any kind, can alter our duty to God, and our power of doing that duty. Whatever the Caesar of the hour may require us to render to him, what we are bound to render to God remains the same. The two things are different IN KIND, so different, that they never need interfere with each other. Even if, which God forbid, the connection between Church and State were dissolved; even if, which God forbid, the Church of England were destroyed for a while--if all Churches were destroyed--yea, if not a place of worship were left for a while in this or any other land; yet even then, I say, we could still render to God the things which are God's, and offer to Him spiritual sacrifices, more pleasing to Him than the most gorgeous ceremonies which the devotion, and art, and wealth of man ever devised--sacrifices, by virtue of which the Church would arise out of her ruins, like the Jewish Church after the captivity, more pure, more glorious, and more triumphant than ever. What do I mean? I mean this--that there are three sacrifices which every man, woman, and child can offer, and should offer, however lowly, however uneducated in what the world calls education nowadays. Those they can offer to God, and with them they can worship God, and render to God the things which are God's, wherever they are, whatever they are doing, whatever be the laws of their country, or the state of society round them. For of these sacrifices our Lord Himself said, The true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship Him. Now what are these spiritual sacrifices? First and foremost, surely, the sacrifice of repentance, of which it is written, "The sacrifice of God is a broken spirit. A broken and a contrite heart, oh God, Thou wilt not despise." Surely when we--even the best of us--look back on our past lives; when we recollect, if not great and positive sins and crimes, yet the opportunities which we have neglected; the time, and often the money which we have wasted; the meannesses, the tempers, the spite, the vanity, the selfishness, which we have too often indulged--When we think of what we have been, and what we might have been, what we are, and what we might be; when we measure ourselves, not by the paltry, low, and often impure standard of the world around us, but by the pure, lofty, truly heroical standard of our Lord Jesus Christ--what can we say, but that we are miserable--that is, pitiful and pitiable sinners, who have left undone what we ought to have done, and done that which we ought not to have done, till there is no health in us? And if you ask me, How is it a sacrifice to God to confess to Him that we are sinners? the answer is simple. It is a sacrifice to God, and a sacrifice well-pleasing to Him, simply because it is The Truth. God wants nothing from us; we can give Him nothing. The wild beasts of the forest are His, and so are the cattle on a thousand hills. If He be hungry He will not tell us for the whole world is His and all that is therein. But what He asks is, that for our own sakes we should see the truth about ourselves, see what we really are, and sacrifice that self- conceit which prevents our seeing ourselves as God our Father sees us. And why does that please God? Simply because it puts us in our right state, and in our right place, where we can begin to become better men, let us be as bad as we may. If a man be a fool, the best possible thing for him is that he should find out that he is a fool, and confess that he is a fool, as the first, and the absolutely necessary first step to becoming wise. Therefore repentance, contrition, humility, is the very foundation-stone of all goodness, virtue, holiness, usefulness; and God desires to see us contrite, simply because He desires to see us good men and good women. Next, the sacrifice of thankfulness, of which it is written, "I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the Lord." And again--By Christ let us offer the sacrifice of praise continually, that is, the fruit of our lips, giving thanks unto His name. Ah! my friends, if we offered that sacrifice oftener, we should have more seldom need to offer the first sacrifice of repentance. I am astonished when I look at my own heart, by which alone I can judge the hearts of others, to see how unthankful one is. How one takes as a matter of course, without one aspiration of gratitude to our Father in heaven--how one takes, as a matter of course, I say, life, health, reason, freedom, education, comfort, safety, and all the blessings of humanity, and of this favoured land. How we never really feel that these are all God's undeserved and unearned mercies; and then, how, if we set our hearts on anything which we have not got, forget all that we have already, and begin entreating God to give us something which, if we had, we know not whether it would be good for us; like children crying peevishly for sweets, after their parents have given them all the wholesome food they need. Ah! that we would offer to God more frankly the sacrifice of thanksgiving! So we should do God justice, by confessing all we owe to Him; and so, we must believe, we should please God; for if God be indeed our Father in heaven, as surely as a parent is pleased with the affection and gratitude of his child, so will our Father in heaven be pleased when He sees us love Him, who first loved us. Next--the sacrifice of righteousness, of which it is written, "Present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service." To be good and to do good, even to long to be good and to long to do good, to hunger and thirst after righteousness, is the best and highest sacrifice which any human being can offer to his Father in heaven. For so he honours his father most truly; for he longs and strives to be like that Father; to be good as God is good, holy as God is holy, beneficent and useful even as God is infinitely beneficent and useful; being, in one word, perfect, as his Father in heaven is perfect. This is the best and highest act of worship, the truest devotion. For pure worship (says St James), and undefiled before God and the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep ourselves unspotted from the world. Yes--every time we perform an act of kindness to any human being, aye, even to a dumb animal; every time we conquer our own worldliness, love of pleasure, ease, praise, ambition, money, for the sake of doing what our conscience tells us to be our duty, we are indeed worshipping God the Father in spirit and in truth, and offering him a sacrifice which He will surely accept, for the sake of His beloved Son, by whose spirit all good deeds and thoughts are inspired. Think of these things, my friends, always, but, above all, think of them as often as you come--as would to God all would come--to the altar of the Lord, and the Holy Communion of His body and blood. For there, indeed, you render to God that which is God's--namely, yourselves; there you offer to God the true sacrifice, which is the sacrifice of yourselves-- the sacrifice of repentance, the sacrifice of thanksgiving, the sacrifice of righteousness, or at least of hunger and thirst after righteousness; and there you receive in return your share of God's sacrifice, the sacrifice which you did not make for Him, but which He made for you, when He spared not His only-begotten Son but freely gave Him for us. That is the sacrifice of all sacrifices, the wonder of all wonders, the mystery of all mysteries; and it is also the righteousness of all righteousness, the generosity of all generosity, the nobleness of all nobleness, the beauty of all beauty, the love of all love. Thinking of that, beholding in that bread and wine the tokens of the boundless love of God, then surely, surely, our repentance for past follies, our thankfulness for present blessings, our longing to be good, pure, useful, humane, generous, high-minded--in one word, to be holy--ought to rise up in us, into a passion, as it were, of noble shame at our own selfishness, and admiration of God's unselfishness, a longing to follow His divine example, and to live, not for ourselves, but for our fellow-men. If we could but once understand the full meaning of those awful yet glorious words, "He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?" then, indeed, we should understand that the one overpowering reason for being unselfish and doing good is this--that we are God's children, and that God our Father is utterly unselfish, and utterly does good, even at the sacrifice of Himself; and that therefore when we are unselfish, and do good, even at the sacrifice of ourselves, we do indeed, in spirit and in truth, "render unto God the things that are God's." SERMON XLII. THE UNJUST STEWARD Eversley, 1866. NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Luke xvi. 8. "And the Lord commended the unjust steward, because he had done wisely." None of our Lord's parables has been as difficult to explain as this one. Learned and pious men have confessed freely, in all ages, that there is much in the parable which they cannot understand; and I am bound to confess the same. The puzzle is, plainly, why our Lord should SEEM to bid us to copy the conduct of a bad man and a cheat. For this is the usual interpretation. The steward has been cheating his master already. When he is found out and about to be dismissed, he cheats his master still further, by telling his debtors to cheat, and so wins favour with them. But does our Lord bid us copy a cheat? I cannot believe that; and the text I should have said ought to give us a very different notion. We read that the lord--that is, the steward's master--commended the unjust steward. What? Commended him for cheating him a second time, and teaching his debtors to cheat him? He must have been a man of a strange character--very unlike any man whom we know, or, at all events, any man whom we should wish to know--to have done that. But it is said--he commended him for having acted wisely. Now that word "wisely" may merely mean prudently, sensibly, and with common sense. But if the master thought that to cheat, or to teach others to cheat, was acting either wisely or prudently, then he was a very foolish and short-sighted man, and altogether mistaken. For be sure and certain, and settle it in your minds, that neither falsehood or dishonesty is ever either wise or prudent, but short-sighted, foolish, certain to punish itself. Such teaching is totally contrary to our Lord's own teaching. Agree with thine adversary quickly, He says, while thou art in the way with him, lest he deliver thee to the Judge. If thou hast done wrong, right it again as soon as possible; for your sin will surely find you out, and avenge itself. Give the devil his due, says the good old proverb. Pay him at once and be done with him: but never think to escape out of his clutches, as too many wretched and foolish sinners do, by running up a fresh score with him, and trying to hide old sins by new ones. Be sure that if the steward cheated his master a second time, the master was foolish and mistaken, and as it were a partner in the steward's sin by commending him. But if so; why does our Lord mention it? What had our Lord to do, what have we to do, with the opinion of so foolish a man? It seems to me that the only reason for our Lord's using the words of the text, must be, that the master was right, not wrong, in commending the steward. But it seems to me, also, that the master could be right only, if the steward was right also--if the steward had done the right and just thing at last, and, instead of cheating his master a second time, had done his best to make restitution for his own sins. But how could that be? We know nothing of what these debtors were. All we know is that one believed that he owed the Lord a hundred measures of oil; and another believed that he owed him a hundred measures of wheat; and that the steward told one to put down in his bill eighty, and the other fifty. Now suppose that the steward had been cheating and oppressing these men, as was common enough in those days with stewards, and has been common enough since; suppose that he had been charging them more than they really owed, and, it may be, putting the surplus into his own pocket, and so wasting his master's goods--that the one really owed only eighty measures of oil, and the other really owed only fifty of wheat; what could be more simple, or more truly wise either, when he was found out, than to do this--to go round to the debtors and confess: I have been overcharging you; you do not owe what I have demanded of you; take your bill and write four-score, for that is what you really owe? This is but a guess on my part. But all other explanations are only guesses likewise, because we do not know how business was transacted in those days and in that country. We do not know whether these debtors were tenants, paying rent in kind, or traders to whom goods had been advanced, or what they were. We do not know whether the steward was agent of the estate, or house steward, or what he was. But this we do know--that to mend one act of villainy by committing a fresh one, is not wisdom, but foolishness; and we may be sure that our Lord would never have held up the unjust steward as an example to us, or quoted his master's opinion of him, if all he did was to commit fraud on fraud, and make bad worse, thereby risking his own more utter ruin. And this view of the parable surely agrees with our Lord's own lesson, which He draws from it. "And I say unto you, Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of righteousness." But what does that mean? Wise men have been puzzled by that text as much as by the parable; but surely our Lord Himself explains it in the verses which follow: "He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much; and he that is unjust in that which is least, is unjust also in much." He that is FAITHFUL. The unjust steward was commended for acting wisely. Now, it seems the way to act wisely is to act faithfully--that is honestly. Our Lord bids us copy the unjust steward, and make ourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness. Now, it seems, He tells us that the way to make friends of men by money transactions is to deal faithfully and honestly by them. This then was perhaps why the Lord commended the unjust steward, because he had been converted in time, and seen his true interest; and for once at least in his life become just. He had found out that after all, honesty is the best policy; as God grant all of us may find out if any of us have not found it out already. Honesty is the best policy. Faithfulness, as our Lord calls it, is the true wisdom. And in that, as our Lord says, the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light. The children of this world, the plain worldly men of business, find that to conduct their business they must be faithful, diligent, punctual, accurate, cautious, business-like. They must have practical common sense, which is itself a kind of honesty. They must be men of their word, just and true in their dealings, or sooner or later, they will fail. Their schemes, their money, their credit, their character, will fail them, and they will be overwhelmed by ruin. And that is just what too often the children of light forget. The children of light have a higher light, a deeper teaching from God, than the children of the world. They have a great insight into what ought to be; they see that mankind might be far wiser, happier, better, holier than they are; they have noble and lofty hopes for the future; they desire the welfare and the holiness of mankind. But they are too apt to want practical common sense. And so they are laughed at (and deservedly) as dreamers, as fanatics, as foolish unpractical people, who are wasting their talents on impossible fancies. Often while their minds are full of really useful and noble schemes, they neglect their business, their families, their common duties, till they cause misery to those around them, and shame to themselves. Often, too, they are tempted to be actually dishonest, to fancy that the means sanctify the end; that it is lawful to do evil that good may come; and so, in order to carry out some fine scheme of theirs, to say false things, or do mean or cruel things, not for their own interest, but, as they fancy, for the cause of God: as if God, and God's cause, could ever be helped by the devil and his works. And so they cast a scandal on religion, and give the enemies of the Lord reason to blaspheme. So it was, it seems, in our Lord's time--so it has been too often since. The children of light--those who ought to be of most use to their own generation--are sometimes of least use to it, through their own weaknesses and follies. They will not remember that he that is not faithful in that which is least, in the every-day concerns of life, is not likely to be faithful in that which is greatest; that if they will not be faithful in the unrighteous mammon--that is, if they cannot resist the temptations to meanness and unfairness which come with all money transactions, God will not commit to them the true riches--the power of making their fellow creatures wiser, happier, better. If they will not be faithful in that which is another man's--in plain English, if they will not pay their debts honestly, who will give them that which is their own--the inspiration of God's indwelling Spirit? Would to God all high religious professors would recollect that, and be just and honest, before they pretend to higher graces and counsels of perfection. This lesson, then, I think our Lord means to teach us. I do not say it is the only lesson in the parable; God forbid. But I think that our Lord's own words show us that this IS one lesson. That, however pious we are, however enlightened we are, however useful we wish to be; in one word, however much we are, or fancy ourselves to be, children of light, our first duty as Christian men is the duty which lies nearest us--that of which it is written: "If a man know not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the Church of God?" And again, "If any provide not for his own and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." Our first duty, I say, as Christian men, is to be just and honest in money matters and every-day business; and over and above that, to be generous and liberal therein. Not merely to pay--which the very publicans in our Lord's time did--but to give, generously, liberally; lending, if we can afford it, as our Lord bids us, hoping for nothing again; and remembering that he who giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord, and whatsoever he layeth out, it shall be repaid him again. Yes, my friends, we must all needs take our Lord's advice--make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness, that when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations. WHEN YE FAIL-- literally, when you are eclipsed, as the sun is eclipsed. That must happen to all of us, to the best, the wisest, the most famous. Each must be eclipsed, and passed in the race of life, and forgotten for some younger man. Each in turn must fail. One may fail in money--the mammon for which he toiled may take to itself wings and fly away; or he may fail in his plans, noble plans, and useful though they seemed; and he may find, as he grows old, that the world has not gone HIS way, but quite another one; or he may fail in health, and be cut down and crippled, and laid by in the midst of his work. And even if he escapes all these disasters, he must needs fail at last, by mere old age, when the days come "when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them;" when the sun and the light are darkened, and the clouds return after the rain, when the strong men bow themselves, and those who look out of the windows are dark; and he shall rise up at the voice of a bird, and fears shall be in the way, and the grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail: because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets. Think for yourselves. What would you wish your end to be-- lonely, unhappy, without the love, the respect, the care of your fellow- men; or surrounded by friends who comfort your failing body and soul on earth, and receive you at last into everlasting habitations? Make friends, make friends against that day, whether or not you make them out of the mammon of unrighteousness. If you have been unrighteous, bring friends back to you, as the steward did, by being just and fair, by confessing your faults freely, by doing your best to atone for them. And if you have no share in the mammon of unrighteousness, still make friends. Make them by truth and justice, make them by generosity and usefulness. To ease every burden, and let the oppressed go free, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and what the very poorest can do--comfort the mourner; to nurse the sick, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and so keep ourselves unspotted from the selfishness of the world--This is that true Religion, acceptable in the sight of God the Father--and happy he who has so served God. Happy for him, when he begins to fail, to see round him attached hearts, and grateful faces, hands ready to tend him, as he has tended others. And happier still to remember that on the other side of the dark river of death are other grateful faces, other loving hearts, ready to welcome him into everlasting habitations--and among them, and above them all, one whose form is as the Son of Man, full of all humanity Himself, and loving and rewarding all humanity in His creatures, saying, "Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me." SERMON XLIII. THE RICH AND THE POOR Chapel Royal, Whitehall, 1871. Proverbs xxii. 2. "The rich and poor meet together: the Lord is the maker of them all." I have been asked to preach here this afternoon on behalf of the Parochial Mission Women's Fund. I may best describe the object for which I plead, as an attempt to civilise and Christianise the women of the lower classes in the poorer districts of London and other great towns, by means of women of their own class--women, who have gone through the same struggles as they have, and who will be trusted by them to understand and to sympathize with their needs and difficulties. These mission women are in communication with lady-superintendents in each ecclesiastical district. These are, I understand, usually the wives of small tradesmen, or of clerks. They, again, are in communication with ladies at the West End of London, who are willing to give personal help and money for certain objects, but not indiscriminate alms. And thus a series of links is established between the most prosperous and the least prosperous classes, by means of which the rich and the poor may meet together, and learn--to the infinite benefit of both--that the Lord is the maker of them all. Considering this excellent scheme, I could not help seeing as a background to it, a very different and a far darker scene. I could not help remembering that during these very days, the poorer classes of another great city had taken up an attitude full of awful lessons to us, and to every civilized country upon earth. We have been reading of a hundred thousand armed men encamped in the suburbs of Belleville and Montmartre, with cannon and mitrailleuses, uttering through their organs, threats which leave no doubt that the meaning of this movement is--as some of them boldly phrase it,--a war of the poor against the rich. There is no mistaking what that means. This madness has been stopped for the time, we are told, principally (as was to be expected), by the superior common sense of their wives. But only, I fear, for a time. Such men will go far, if not this time, then some other time. For they believe what they say, and know what they want. They have done with phrases, done with illusions. They are no longer deceived and hampered by party cries against this and that grievance, real or imaginary, the abolition of which the working classes demand so eagerly from time to time, in the vain belief that if it were only got rid of the millennium would be at hand. They have done long ago with remedial half-measures. Landed aristocracy, Established Church, military classes, privileged classes, restricted suffrage, and all the rest, have been abolished in their country for two generations and more: but behold, the poor man finds himself (or fancies himself, which is just as dangerous) no richer, safer, happier after all, and begins to see a far simpler remedy for all his ills. He has too little of this world's goods, while others have too much. What more fair, more simple, than that he should take some of the rich man's goods, and if he resists, kill him, crying, "Thou sayest, let me eat and drink, for to-morrow I die. Then I too will eat and drink, for to-morrow _I_ die?" And so will the rich and poor meet together with a vengeance, simply because neither of them has learnt that the Lord is the maker of them all. This is a hideous conclusion. But it is one towards which the poor will tend in every country in which the rich are merely rich, spending their wealth in self-enjoyment, atoned for by a modicum of alms. I said a modicum of alms. I ought to have said, any amount of alms, any amount of charity. Throughout the great cities of Europe--in London as much as anywhere--hundreds of thousands are saying, "We want no alms. We intend to reconstitute society, even at the expense of blood, so that no man, woman, or child, shall need the rich man's alms. We do not choose, for it is not just, that he should take credit to himself for giving us a shilling when he owes us a pound, ten, a hundred pounds--owes us, in fact, all by which he and his class are richer than us and our class. And we will make him pay his debt." I do not say that such words are wise. I believe them to be foolish-- suicidal. I believe that it is those who patiently wait on the Lord, and not the discontented who fret themselves till they do evil, who will inherit the land, and be refreshed in peace. I believe that all those who take the sword will perish by the sword; that those who appeal to brute force will always find it--just because it is brute force--always strongest on the side of the rich, who can hire it for evil, as for good. I only say, that so hundreds of thousands think; so they speak, and will speak more and more loudly, as long as the present tone of society endures,--good-natured and well meaning, but luxurious, covetous, ignoble, frivolous, ignorant; believing--all classes alike, not only that money makes the man, but worse far--that money makes the woman also; and all the while half-ashamed of itself, half-distrustful of itself, and trying to buy off man by alms, and God by superstition. So long as the great mass of the poor of any city know nothing of the great mass of the rich of that city, save as folk who roll past them in their carriages, seemingly easy while they are struggling, seemingly happy while they are wretched, so long will the rich of that city be supposed, however falsely, to be what the French workmen used to call mangeurs d'hommes--exploiteurs d'hommes--to get their wealth by means of the poverty, their comfort by means of the misery of their fellow-men; and so long will they be exposed to that mere envy and hatred which pursues always the more prosperous, till, in some national crisis, when the rich and poor meet together, both parties will be but too apt to behave, through mutual fear and hate, as if not God, but the devil, was the maker of them all. These words are strong. How can they be too strong, in face of what is now passing in a neighbouring land? Not too strong, either, in view of the actual state of vast masses of the poor in London itself, and indeed of any one of our great cities. That matter has been reported on, preached on, spoken on, till all other civilized countries reproach Britain with the unique contrast between the exceeding wealth of some classes and the exceeding poverty of others; till we, instead of being startled by the reproach, take the present state of things as a matter of course, a physical necessity, a law of nature and society, that there should be, in the back streets of every great city, hordes of, must I say, savages? neither decently civilized nor decently Christianized, uncertain, most of them, of regular livelihood, and therefore shiftless and reckless, extravagant in prosperity, and in adversity falling at once into want and pauperism. You may ask any clergyman, any minister of religion of any denomination, whether the thing is not so. Or if you want to read the latest news about the degradation of your fellow-subjects, read a little book called "East and West," and judge for yourselves, whether such a population, numbered by hundreds of thousands, are in a state pleasing to God, or safe for those classes of whom they only know that they pay them wages, and that these wages are as small as they can be forced to take. Read that book; and then ask yourselves, is it wonderful that, in one district, before the mission of the society for which I plead was established, the poor used seriously to believe that it was the wish and endeavour of the rich to grind them down, and keep them poor. We, of course, know that the poor folk were mistaken but do we not know, too-- some of us--that there are political economists in the world, who, though they would not willingly make the poor poorer than they are, are still of opinion that it is good for the nation, on the whole, that the present state of things should continue; that there should be always a reserve of labour, in plain English, a vast multitude who have not quite work enough to live on, ready to be called on in any emergency of business, and used, to beat down, by their competition, the wages of their fellow-workmen? Is this theory altogether novel and unheard of? Or this theory also, that for this very reason, Emigration, which looks the very simplest remedy for most of this want,--while nine-tenths of the bounteous earth is waiting to be subdued and replenished by the poor wretches who cannot get at it--that Emigration, I say, is an unnecessary movement--that the people are all wanted at home--to be such as the parson and the mission women find them? And it may be that the poor folk have heard--for a bird of the air may carry the matter in these days of a free press--that some rich folk, at least, hold this opinion, and translate it freely out of the delicate language of political economy, into the more vigorous dialect used in the fever alleys and smallpox courts in which the poor are left to wait for work. But if there be any rich persons in this congregation who hold these peculiar economic doctrines, let me recommend to them, more than to any other persons present, that they would support a society which alleviates the hard pressure of their system; which helps to make it tolerable and prudent by teaching the poor to save; by teaching them, in London alone,--how to save �54,000 in the last eleven years. Let them help this society heartily. The children of this world are--in their generation--wiser than the children of light. But how long their generation will last, depends mainly (we are told) on how far they make themselves friends out of the mammon of unrighteousness. But if, again, there be rich people in this congregation, as I trust there are many and many, who start, indignant, at such an imputation, and utterly deny its truth--then,--if it be false, why in the name of God, and of humanity, and of common prudence, why do they not go to these people and tell them so? Why do they not prove that it is not so, by showing a little more human sympathy, not merely for them behind their backs, but sympathy with them face to face? If they wish to know how much can be done by only a little active kindness, they have only to read the pages of that painful, and yet pleasant, book--"East and West,"-- which I have just quoted; and to read, also, an appendix to it--a Paper originally read at the Church Congress, Manchester, by the present Lord Chancellor--a document which it would be an impertinence in me to recommend or praise. Bring yourselves then boldly into contact with these classes, and especially into contact with the women--with the wives and mothers. For it is through the women, through them mainly, if not altogether, that civilization and religion can be introduced among any degraded class. It was so in the Middle Age. The legends which tell us how woman was then the civilizer, the softener, the purifier, the perpetual witness to fierce and coarse men, that there were nobler aims in life than pleasure, and power, and the gratification of revenge; that not self-assertion, but self-sacrifice was the Divine ideal, toward which all must aspire. These old legends are immortal; for they speak of facts and laws which will endure as long as there are women upon earth. Through the woman, the civilizer and the Christianizer must reach the man. Through the wife, he must reach the husband. Through the mother, he must reach the children. I say he must. It is easy to complain that the clergy in every age and country have tried to obtain influence over women. They have been forced to do so, because otherwise they could obtain no influence at all. And if a priesthood should arise hereafter, whose calling was to teach not religion but irreligion, not the good news that there is a good God, and that we can know Him; but the bad news that there is no God, or, if there is, we cannot know Him; then would that priesthood find it necessary to appeal like all other priesthoods, to the women, and to teach them how to teach their children. But more. It is not religion only which must be taught through the wives and mothers, but sound science also, and sound economy. If you intend (as I trust some here intend) to teach the labouring classes those laws of health and life, on which depend the comfort, the wholesomeness, often the decency and the morality of the poor man's home, then you must teach those laws first to the house-mother, who brings the children into the world, and brings them up, who puts them to bed at night, and prepares their food by day. If you wish to teach habits of thrift, and sound notions of economy to the labouring classes, you must teach them first to the housewife, who has to make the weekly earnings cover, if possible, the week's expenses. If you wish to soften and to purify the man, you must first soften and purify the woman, or at least encourage her not to lose what womanliness she has left, amid sights, and sounds, and habits which tend continually to destroy her womanhood. You must encourage her, I say, to remember always that she is a woman still, and let her teach-- as none can teach like her--true manfulness to her husband and her sons. And how can you best do that? Not by giving her shillings, not by preaching at her, not by scolding her: but by behaving to her as what she is--a woman and a sister--and cheering her heavy heart by simple human kindliness. What she wants amid all her poverty and toil, her child-bearing and child-rearing, what she wants, I say, to keep her brave and strong, is to know by actual sight and speech that she is still not an outcast; not alone; that she is still a member of the human family, that her fellow-woman has not forgotten her; and that, therefore, it may be, He that was born of woman has not forgotten her either. That she has, after all, a God in heaven, who can be touched with the feeling of her infirmities, and can help her and those she loves, to struggle through all their temptations, seeing that He too was tempted in all things like them, yet without sin. It is only personal intercourse with them--only the meeting of the rich and poor together, in the belief that God is the maker of them all, that will do that. But it will do it. Only personal intercourse will reconcile these people to their condition, in as far as they OUGHT to be reconciled to it. But personal intercourse will reconcile them to it, as far as it ought, but no further. And I think that the system of personal intercourse attempted by this Society is, on the whole, the best yet devised. It is imperfect, as all attempts to make that straight which is crooked, and to number that which is wanting--to patch, in a word, a radically vicious system of society,-- must be imperfect; but it is the best plan which I have yet seen. I find no fault with other plans, God forbid! Wisdom is justified of all her children; and the amount of evil is so great, and (as I believe, so dangerous), that I must bid God-speed to any persons who will do anything, always saving and excepting indiscriminate almsgiving. But it seems to me that the soothing and civilizing, and in due time Christianising, effect of personal intercourse cannot begin better than through a woman, herself of the working class, who has struggled as these poor souls have struggled, and conquered, more or less, where they are failing. That through her they should be brought in contact with women of the more comfortable and cultivated class, who are their immediate employers, if not their immediate neighbours; and through them, again, brought in contact with women of that class, of whom I shall only say, that if they were not meant for some such noble work as this--and not for mere pleasure and mere display, then for what purpose, in heaven or earth, were they made? and why has Providence taken the trouble (as it were) to elaborate, by long ages of civilization, that most exquisite of all products of nature and of art--A Lady? Ah! what the ladies of England might do, and that without interfering in the least with their duties as wives and mothers, if they would work together, as a class! If they would work as well and humanly while they are in towns, as most of them do work while they are in the country; as some of them do, to their honour, in the towns already! But how many? what proportion do those who do good bear to those who do nothing? What a small amount of humanizing and civilizing intercourse with some women of the labouring class is there in the case of the wives of rich men who come up to town, merely for the season, and forget that it is their temporary and uncertain stay in London which causes much of the temporary and uncertain employment of the London poor, and their consequent temptation to unthrift and recklessness! How little humanizing and civilizing intercourse with the poor is carried on by the wives of those employers of labour who surely, surely owe something more to their husband's work people, than to be aware (by hearsay) that they are duly paid every Saturday night? But I shall be told: We need not fear--we can justify ourselves before God and man. I shall be reminded of all that has been done, and done well too, for the poor during the last generation, and bidden not to calumniate my countrymen. True, much has been done; and done well. And true also it is that no effort to make the rich and poor meet together, to bring the different classes of society into contact with each other, but has succeeded--has sown good seed--which I trust may bring forth good fruit in the day when every tree shall be judged by its fruit. The events of 1830, startling and warning, and those of 1848, more pregnant, if possible, with warning than the former, awakened a spirit of humanity in England, which was also a spirit of prudence and of common sense. But I cannot conceal from myself, or you, that the earnestness which was awakened in those days is dying out in these. The richer classes of every country are tempted from time to time to fits of laziness--fits of frivolity and luxury, surfeits, in which men say, with a shrug and a yawn--"Why be very much in earnest? Why take so much trouble? Somebody must always be rich, why should not I? Somebody must enjoy the money, why should not I? At all events, things will last my time." And that such a surfeit has fallen upon the rich of this land, is a fact; for that this is the tone of to-day, and that the tone increases, none can deny who knows that which calls itself the WORLD, and calls itself so only too truly; the world of which it is written, that all that is in the world-- the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life-- is not of the Father, but of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof. But he who doeth the will of God, he alone abideth for ever. God grant that we, who have just seen the most cunningly organized and daintily bedizened specimen of a world, which ever flaunted on the earth since men began to build their towers of Babel, collapse and crumble at a single blow, may take God's hint, that the fashion of this world passeth away. Let the idle, the frivolous, the sensual, and those who, like Figaro's Marquis, have earned all earthly happiness by only taking the trouble to be born--let them look back on this last awful Christmas-tide, and hear, speaking in fact unmistakeable, the voice of the Lord. Think ye that they whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices were sinners above all the Galilaeans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, "Nay: but except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." There are those who will hear such words with a smile, even with a sneer, and say, Such wholesale judgments of God, even granting that there are such things, are, after all, very rare: it is very seldom that a whole class, a whole system of society, is punished in mass--and why then need we trouble ourselves about so remote a probability? Then know this--that as surely as God sometimes punishes wholesale, so surely is He always punishing in detail. By that infinite concatenation of moral causes and effects, which makes the whole world one mass of special Providences, every sin of ours will punish itself, and probably punish itself in kind. Are we selfish? We shall call out selfishness in others. Do we neglect our duty? Then others will neglect their duty to us. Do we indulge our passions? Then others, who depend on us, will indulge theirs, to our detriment and misery. Do we squander our money? Then our children and our servants will squander our money for us. Do we?--but what use to go on reminding men of truths which no one believes, because they are too painful and searching to be believed in comfort? What use to tell men what they never will confess to be true-- that by every crime, folly, even neglect of theirs, they drive a thorn into their own flesh, which will trouble them for years to come, it may be to their dying day? And yet so it is. Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all. As those who neglect their fellow-creatures will discover, by the most patent undeniable proofs, in that last great day, when the rich and poor shall meet together, and then, at least, discover that the Lord is the maker of them all. Footnotes: {1} These sermons by the Rev. Charles Kingsley M.A., late rector of Eversley and Canon of Westminster, were edited by the Rev. W. Harrison, M.A., rector of Brington.--DP. 
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14497	----	Proofreading Team ADDRESSES BY THE RIGHT REVEREND PHILLIPS BROOKS BISHOP OF MASSACHUSETTS PHILADELPHIA HENRY ALTEMUS 1895 CONTENTS. PAGE I. THE BEAUTY OF A LIFE OF SERVICE 9 II. THOUGHT AND ACTION 34 III. THE DUTY OF THE CHRISTIAN BUSINESS MAN 63 IV. TRUE LIBERTY 88 V. THE CHRIST IN WHOM CHRISTIANS BELIEVE 110 VI. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 140 I. THE BEAUTY OF A LIFE OF SERVICE. I should like to read to you again the words of Jesus from the 8th chapter of the Gospel of St. John:-- "Then said Jesus to those Jews which believed on Him, if ye continue in My word, then are ye My disciples indeed; and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. They answered him, We be Abraham's seed, and were never in bondage to any man; how sayest Thou, ye shall be made free? Jesus answered them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin. And the servant abideth not in the house forever, but the Son abideth ever. If the Son, therefore, shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed." I want to speak to you to-day about the purpose and the result of the freedom which Christ gives to His disciples and the freedom into which man enters when he fulfils his life. The purpose and result of freedom is service. It sounds to us at first like a contradiction, like a paradox. Great truths very often present themselves to us in the first place as paradoxes, and it is only when we come to combine the two different terms of which they are composed and see how it is only by their meeting that the truth does reveal itself to us, that the truth does become known. It is by this same truth that God frees our souls, not from service, not from duty, but into service and into duty, and he who makes mistakes the purpose of his freedom mistakes the character of his freedom. He who thinks that he is being released from the work, and not set free in order that he may accomplish that work, mistakes the Christ from whom the freedom comes, mistakes the condition into which his soul is invited to enter. For if I was right in saying what I said the other day, that the freedom of a man simply consists in the larger opportunity to be and to do all that God makes him in His creation capable of being and doing, then certainly if man has been capable of service it is only by the entrance into service, by the acceptance of that life of service for which God has given man the capacity, that he enters into the fulness of his freedom and becomes the liberated child of God. You remember what I said with regard to the manifestations of freedom and the figures and the illustrations, perhaps some of them which we used, of the way in which the bit of iron, taken out of its uselessness, its helplessness, and set in the midst of the great machine, thereby recognizes the purpose of its existence, and does the work for which it was appointed, for it immediately becomes the servant of the machine into which it was placed. Every part of its impulse flows through all of its substance, and it does the thing which it was made to do. When the ice has melted upon the plain it is only when it finds its way into the river and flows forth freely to do the work which the live water has to do that it really attains to its freedom. Only then is it really liberated from the bondage in which it was held while it was fastened in the chains of winter. The same freed ice waits until it so finds its freedom, and when man is set free simply into the enjoyment of his own life, simply into the realization of his own existence, he has not attained the purposes of his freedom, he has not come to the purposes of his life. It is one of the signs to me of how human words are constantly becoming perverted that it surprises us when we think of freedom as a condition in which a man is called upon to do, and is enabled to do, the duty that God has laid upon him. Duty has become to us such a hard word, service has become to us a word so full of the spirit of bondage, that it surprises us at the first moment when we are called upon to realize that it is in itself a word of freedom. And yet we constantly are lowering the whole thought of our being, we are bringing down the greatness and richness of that with which we have to deal, until we recognize that God does not call us to our fullest life simply for ourselves. The spirit of selfishness is continually creeping in. I think it may almost be said that there has been no selfishness in the history of man like that which has exhibited itself in man's religious life, showing itself in the way in which man has seized upon spiritual privileges and rejoiced in the good things that are to come to him in the hereafter, because he had made himself the servant of God. The whole subject of selfishness, and the way in which it loses itself and finds itself again, is a very interesting one, and I wish that we had time to dwell upon it. It comes into a sort of general law which we are recognizing everywhere--the way in which a man very often, in his pursuit of the higher form of a condition in which he has been living, seems to lose that condition for a little while and only to reach it a little farther on. He seems to be abandoned by that power only that he may meet it by and by and enter more deeply into its heart and come more completely into its service. So it is, I think, with the self-devotion, consecration, and self-forgetfulness in which men realize their life. Very often in the lower stages of man's life he forgets himself, with a slightly emphasized individual existence, not thinking very much of the purpose of his life, till he easily forgets himself among the things that are around him and forgets himself simply because there is so little of himself for him to forget; but do not you know perfectly well how very often when a man's life becomes intensified and earnest, when he becomes completely possessed with some great passion and desire, it seems for the time to intensify his selfishness? It does intensify his selfishness. He is thinking so much in regard to himself that the thought of other persons and their interests is shut out of his life. And so very often when a man has set before him the great passion of the divine life, when he is called by God to live the life of God, and to enter into the rewards of God, very often there seems to close around his life a certain bondage of selfishness, and he who gave himself freely to his fellow-men before now seems, by the very intensity, eagerness, and earnestness with which his mind is set upon the prize of the new life which is presented to him--it seems as if everything became concentrated upon himself, the saving of his soul, the winning of his salvation. That seat in heaven seems to burn so before his eyes that he cannot be satisfied for a moment with any thought that draws him away from it, and he presses forward that he may be saved. But by and by, as he enters more deeply into that life, the self-forgetfulness comes to him again and as a diviner thing. By and by, as the man walks up the mountain, he seems to pass out of the cloud which hangs about the lower slopes of the mountain, until at last he stands upon the pinnacle at the top, and there is in the perfect light. Is it not exactly like the mountain at whose foot there seems to be the open sunshine where men see everything, and on whose summit there is the sunshine, but on whose sides, and half way up, there seems to linger a long cloud, in which man has to struggle until he comes to the full result of his life? So it is with self-consecration, with service. You easily do it in some small ways in the lower life. Life becomes intensified and earnest with a serious purpose, and it seems as if it gathered itself together into selfishness. Only then it opens by and by into the largest and noblest works of men, in which they most manifest the richness of their human nature and appropriate the strength of God. Those are great and unselfish acts. We know it at once if we turn to Him who represents the fulness of the nature of our humanity. When I turn to Jesus and think of Him as the manifestation of His own Christianity--and if men would only look at the life of Jesus to see what Christianity is, and not at the life of the poor representatives of Jesus whom they see around them, there would be so much more clearness, they would be rid of so many difficulties and doubts. When I look at the life of Jesus I see that the purpose of consecration, of emancipation, is service of His fellow-men. I cannot think for a moment of Jesus as doing that which so many religious people think they are doing when they serve Christ, when they give their lives to Him. I cannot think of Him as simply saving His own soul, living His own life, and completing His own nature in the sight of God. It is a life of service from beginning to end. He gives himself to man because He is absolutely the Child of God, and He sets up service, and nothing but service, to be the ultimate purpose, the one great desire, on which the souls of His followers should be set, as His own soul is set, upon it continually. What is it that Christ has left to be His symbol in the world, that we put upon our churches, what we wear upon our hearts, that stands forth so perpetually us the symbol of Christ's life? Is it a throne from which a ruler utters his decrees? Is it a mountain top upon which some rapt seer sits, communing with himself and with the voices around him, and gathering great truth into his soul and delighting in it? No, not the throne and not the mountain top. It is the cross. Oh, my brethren, that the cross should be the great symbol of our highest measure, that that which stands for consecration, that that which stands for the divine statement that a man does not live for himself and that a man loses himself when he does live for himself--that that should be the symbol of our religion and the great sign and token of our faith? What sort of Christians are we that go about asking for the things of this life first, thinking that it shall make us prosperous to be Christians, and then a little higher asking for the things that pertain to the eternal prosperity, when the Great Master, who leaves us the great law, in whom our Christian life is spiritually set forth, has as His great symbol the cross, the cross, the sign of consecration and obedience? It is not simply suffering too. Christ does not stand primarily for suffering. Suffering is an accident. It does not matter whether you and I suffer. "Not enjoyment and not sorrow" is our life, not sorrow any more than enjoyment, but obedience and duty. If duty brings sorrow, let it bring sorrow. It did bring sorrow to the Christ, because it was impossible for a man to serve the absolute righteousness in this world and not to sorrow. If it had brought joy, and glory, and triumph, if it had been greeted at its entrance and applauded on the way, He would have been as truly the consecrated soul that He was in the days when, over a road that was marked with the blood of His footprints, He found His way up at last to the torturing cross. It is not suffering; it is obedience. It is not pain; it is consecration of life. It is the joy of service that makes the life of Christ, and for us to serve Him, serving fellow-man and God--as he served fellow-man and God--whether it bring pain or joy, if we can only get out of our souls the thought that it matters not if we are happy or sorrowful, if only we are dutiful and faithful, and brave and strong, then we should be in the atmosphere, we should be in the great company of the Christ. It surprises me very often when I hear good Christian people talk about Christ's entrance into this world, Christ's coming to save this world. They say it was so marvellous that Jesus should be willing to come down from His throne in heaven and undertake all the strange sorrow and distress that belonged to Him when He came to save the world from its sins. Wonderful? There was no wonder in it; no wonder if we enter up into the region where Jesus lives and think of life as He must have thought of life. It is the same wonder that people feel about the miracles of Jesus. Is it a wonder that when a divine life is among men, nature should have a response to make to Him, and He should do things that you and I, in our little humanity, find it impossible to do? No, indeed, there is no wonder that God loved the world. There is no wonder that Christ, the Son of God, at any sacrifice undertook to save the world. The wonder would have been if God, sitting in His heaven, the wonder would have been if Jesus, ready to come here to the earth and seeing how it was possible to save man from sin by suffering, had not suffered. Do you wonder at the mother, when she gives her life without a hesitation or a cry, when she gives her life with joy, with thankfulness, for her child, counting it her privilege? Do you wonder at the patriot, the hero, when he rushes into the battle to do the good deed which it is possible for him to do? No; read your own nature deeper and you will understand your Christ. It is no wonder that He should have died upon the cross; the wonder would have been if, with the inestimable privilege of saving man, He had shrunk from that cross and turned away. It sets before us that it is not the glories of suffering, it is not the necessity of suffering, it is simply the beauty of obedience and the fulfilment of a man's life in doing his duty and rendering the service which it is possible for him to render to his fellow-man. I said that a man when he did that left behind him all the thought of the life which he was willing to live within himself, even all the highest thought. It is not your business and mine to study whether we shall get to heaven, even to study whether we shall be good men; it is our business to study how we shall come into the midst of the purposes of God and have the unspeakable privilege in these few years of doing something of His work. And yet so is our life all one, so is the kingdom of God which surrounds us and infolds us one bright and blessed unity, that when a man has devoted himself to the service of God and his fellow-man, immediately he is thrown back upon his own nature, and he sees now--it is the right place for him to see--that he must be the brave, strong, faithful man, because it is impossible for him to do his duty and to render his service, except it is rendered out of a heart that is full of faithfulness, that is brave and true. There is one word of Jesus that always comes back to me as about the noblest thing that human lips have ever said upon our earth, and the most comprehensive thing, that seems to sweep into itself all the commonplace experience of mankind. Do you remember when He was sitting with His disciples, at the last supper, how He lifted up His voice and prayed, and in the midst of His prayer there came these wondrous words: "For their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified"? The whole of human life is there. Shall a man cultivate himself? No, not primarily. Shall a man serve the world, strive to increase the kingdom of God in the world? Yes, indeed, he shall. How shall he do it? By cultivating himself, and instantly he is thrown back upon his own life. "For their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified." I am my best, not simply for myself, but for the world. My brethren, is there anything in all the teachings that man has had from his fellow-man, all that has come down to him from the lips of God, that is nobler, that is more far-reaching than that--to be my best not simply for my own sake, but for the sake of the world into which, setting my best, I shall make that world more complete, I shall do my little part to renew and to recreate it in the image of God? That is the law of my existence. And the man that makes that the law of his existence neither neglects himself nor his fellow-men, neither becomes the self-absorbed student and cultivator of his own life upon the one hand, nor does he become, abandoning himself, simply the wasting benefactor of his brethren upon the other. You can help your fellow-men: you must help your fellow-men; but the only way you can help them is by being the noblest and the best man that it is possible for you to be. I watch the workman build upon the building which by and by is to soar into the skies, to toss its pinnacles up to the heaven, and I see him looking up and wondering where those pinnacles are to be, thinking how high they are to be, measuring the feet, wondering how they are to be built, and all the time he is cramming a rotten stone into the building just where he has set to work. Let him forget the pinnacles, if he will, or hold only the floating image of them in his imagination for his inspiration; but the thing that he must do is to put a brave, strong soul, an honest and substantial life into the building just where he is now at work. It seems to me that that comes home to us all. Men are questioning now as they never have questioned before whether Christianity is indeed the true religion which is to be the salvation of the world. They are feeling how the world needs salvation, how it needs regeneration, how it is wrong and bad all through and through, mixed with the good that is in it everywhere. Everywhere there is the good and the bad, and the great question that is on men's minds to-day, as I believe it has never been upon men's minds before, is this: Is this Christian religion, with its high pretensions, this Christian life that claims so much for itself, is it competent for the task that it has undertaken to do? Can it meet all these human problems, and relieve all these human miseries, and fulfil all these human hopes? It is the old story over again, when John the Baptist, puzzled in his prison, said to Jesus, "Art thou He that should come? or look we for another?" It seems to me that the Christian Church is hearing that cry in its ears to-day: "Art thou He that should come?" Can you do this which the world unmistakably needs to be done? Christian men, it is for us to give our bit of answer to that question. It is for us, in whom the Christian Church is at this moment partially embodied, to declare that Christianity, that the Christian faith, the Christian manhood, can do that for the world which the world needs. You say, "What can I do?" You can furnish one Christian life. You can furnish a life so faithful to every duty, so ready for every service, so determined not to commit every sin, that the great Christian Church shall be the stronger for your living in it, and the problem of the world be answered, and a certain great peace come into this poor, perplexed phase of our humanity as it sees that new revelation of what Christianity is. Yes, Christ can give the world the thing it needs in unknown ways and methods that we have not yet begun to suspect. Christianity has not yet been tried. My friends, no man dares to condemn the Christian faith to-day, because the Christian faith has not been tried. Not until men get rid of the thought that it is a poor machine, an expedient for saving them from suffering and pain, not until they get the grand idea of it as the great power of God present in and through the lives of men, not until then does Christianity enter upon its true trial and become ready to show what it can do. Therefore we struggle against our sin in order that men may be saved around us, and not simply that our own souls may be saved. Tell me you have a sin that you mean to commit this evening that is going to make this night black. What can keep you from committing that sin? Suppose you look into its consequences. Suppose the wise man tells you what will be the physical consequences of that sin. You shudder and you shrink, and, perhaps, you are partially deterred. Suppose you see the; glory that might come to you, physical, temporal, spiritual, if you do not commit that sin. The opposite of it shows itself to you--the blessing and the richness in your life. Again there comes a great power that shall control your lust and wickedness. Suppose there comes to you something even deeper than that, no consequence on consequence at all, but simply an abhorrence for the thing, so that your whole nature shrinks from it as the nature of God shrinks from a sin that is polluting and filthy and corrupt and evil. They are all great powers. Let us thank God for them all. He knows that we are weak enough to need every power that can possibly be brought to bear upon our feeble lives; but if, along with all of them, there could come this other power, if along with them there could come the certainty that if you refrain from that sin to-night you make the sum of sin that is in the world, and so the sum of all temptation that is in the world, and so the sum of future evil that is to spring out of temptation in the world, less, shall there not be a nobler impulse rise up in your heart, and shall you not say: "I will not do it; I will be honest, I will be sober, I will be pure, at least, to-night"? I dare to think that there are men here to whom that appeal can come, men who, perhaps, will be all dull and deaf if one speaks to them about their personal salvation; who, if one dares to picture to them, appealing to their better nature, trusting to their nobler soul, that there is in them the power to save other men from sin, and to help the work of God by the control of their own passions and the fulfilment of their own duty, will be stirred to the higher life. Men--very often we do not trust them enough--will answer to the higher appeal that seems to be beyond them when the poor, lower appeal that comes within the region of their selfishness is cast aside, and they will have nothing to do with it. Oh, this marvellous, this awful power that we have over other people's lives! Oh! the power of the sin that you have done years and years ago! It is awful to think of it. I think there is hardly anything more terrible to the human thought than this--the picture of a man who, having sinned years and years ago in a way that involved other souls in his sin, and then, having repented of his sin and undertaken another life, knows certainly that the power, the consequence of that sin is going on outside of his reach, beyond even his ken and knowledge. He cannot touch it. You wronged a soul ten years ago. You taught a boy how to tell his first mercantile lie; you degraded the early standards of his youth. What has become of that boy to-day? You may have repented. He has passed put of your sight. He has gone years and years ago. Somewhere in this great, multitudinous mass of humanity he is sinning and sinning and reduplicating and extending the sin that you did. You touched the faith of some believing soul years ago with some miserable sneer of yours, with some cynical and sceptical disparagement of God and of the man who is the utterance of God upon the earth. You taught the soul that was enthusiastic to be full of scepticisms and doubts. You wronged a woman years ago, and her life has gone out from your life, you cannot begin to tell where. You have repented of your sin. You have bowed yourself, it may be, in dust and ashes. You have entered upon a new life. You are pure to-day. But where is the sceptical soul? Where is the ruined woman whom you sent forth into the world out of the shadow of your sin years ago? You cannot touch that life. You cannot reach it. You do not know where it is. No steps of yours, quickened with all your earnestness, can pursue it. No contrition of yours can drawback its consequences. Remorse cannot force the bullet back again into the gun from which it once has gone forth. It makes life awful to the man who has ever sinned, who has ever wronged and hurt another life because of this sin, because no sin ever was done that did not hurt another life. I know the mercy of our God, that while He has put us into each other's power to a fearful extent, He never will let any soul absolutely go to everlasting ruin for another's sin; and so I dare to see the love of God pursuing that lost soul where you cannot pursue it. But that does not for one moment lift the shadow from your heart, or cease to make you tremble when you think of how your sin has outgrown itself and is running far, far away where you can never follow it. Thank God the other thing is true as well. Thank God that when a man does a bit of service, however little it may be, of that too he can never trace the consequences. Thank God that that which in some better moment, in some nobler inspiration, you did ten years ago to make your brother's faith a little more strong, to let your shop boy confirm and not doubt the confidence in man which he had brought into his business, to establish the purity of a soul instead of staining it and shaking it, thank God, in this quick, electric atmosphere in which we live, that, too, runs forth. Do not say in your terror, "I will do nothing." You must do something. Only let Christ tell you--let Christ tell you that there is nothing that a man rests upon in the moment, that he thinks of, as he looks back upon it when it has sunk into the past, with any satisfaction, except some service to his fellow-man, some strengthening and helping of a human soul. Two men are walking down the street together and talking away. See what different conditions those two men are in. One of them has his soul absolutely full of the desire to help his fellow-man. He peers into those faces as he goes, and sees the divine possibility that is in them, and he sees the divine nature everywhere. They are talking about the idlest trifles, about the last bit of local Boston politics. But in their souls one of those men has consecrated himself, with the new morning, to the glorious service of God, and the other of them is asking how he may be a little richer in his miserable wealth when the day sinks. Oh, we look into the other world and read the great words and hear it said, Between me and thee, this and that, there is a great gulf fixed; and we think of something that is to come in the eternal life. Is there any gulf in eternity, is there any gulf between heaven and hell that is wider, and deeper, and blacker, that is more impassable than that gulf which lies between these two men going upon their daily way? Oh, friends, it is not that God is going to judge us some day. That is not the awful thing. It is that God knows us now. If I stop an instant and know that God knows me through all these misconceptions and blunders of my brethren, that God knows me--that is the awful thing. The future judgment shall but tell it. It is here, here upon my conscience, now. It is awful to think how the commonplace things that men can do, the commonplace thoughts that men can think, the commonplace lives that men can live, are but in the bosom of the future. The thing that impresses me more and more is this--that we only need to have extended to the multitude that which is at this moment present in the few, and the world really would be saved. There is but the need of the extension into a multitude of souls of that which a few souls have already attained in their consecration of themselves to human good, and to the service of God, and I will not say the millennium would have come, I don't know much about the millennium, but heaven would have come, the new Jerusalem would be here. There are men enough in this church this morning, there are men enough sitting here within the sound of my voice to-day, if they were inspired by the spirit of God and counted it the great privilege of their life, to do the work of God--there are men enough here to save this city, and to make this a glowing city of our Lord, to relieve its poverty, to lighten its darkness, to lift up the cloud that is upon hearts, to turn it into a great, I will not say psalm-singing city, but God-serving, God-abiding city, to touch all the difficult problems of how society and government ought to be organized then with a power with which they should yield their difficulty and open gradually. The light to measure would be clear enough, if only the spirit is there. Give me five hundred men, nay, give me one hundred men of the spirit that I know to-day in three men that I well understand, and I will answer for it that the city shall be saved. And you, my friend, are one of the five hundred--you are one of the one hundred. "Oh, but," you say, "is not this slavery over again? You have talked about freedom, and here I am once more a slave. I had about got free from the bondage of my fellow-men, and here I am right in the midst of it again. What has become of my personality, of my independence, if I am to live thus?" Ay, you have got to learn what every noblest man has always learned, that no man becomes independent of his fellow-men excepting in serving his fellow-men. You have got to learn that Christianity comes to us not simply as a luxury but as a force, and no man who values Christianity simply as a luxury which he possesses really gets the Christianity which he tries to value. Only when Christianity is a force, only when I seek independence of men in serving men, do I cease to be a slave to their whims. I must dress as they think I ought to dress; I must walk in the streets as they think I ought to walk; I must do business just after their fashion; I must accept their standards; but when Christ has taken possession of me and I am a total man, I am more or less independent of these men. Shall I care about their little whims and oddities? Shall I care about how they criticise the outside of my life? Shall I peer into their faces as I meet them in the street, to see whether they approve of me or not? And yet am I not their servant? There is nothing now I will not do to serve them, there is nothing now I will not do to save them. If the cross comes, I welcome the cross, and look upon it with joy, if, by my death upon the cross in any way, I may echo the salvation of my Lord and save them. Independent of them? Surely. And yet their servant? Perfectly. Was ever man so independent in Jerusalem as Jesus was? What cared He for the sneer of the Pharisee, for the learned scorn of the Sadducee, for the taunt of the people and the little boys that had been taught to jeer at Him as He went down the street, and yet the very servant of all their life? He says there are two kinds of men--they who sit upon a throne and eat, and they who serve. "I am among you as he that serveth." Oh, seek independence. Insist upon independence. Insist that you will not be the slave of the poor, petty standards of your fellow-men. But insist upon it only in the way in which it can be insisted upon, by becoming absolutely the servant of their needs. So only shall you be independent of their whims. There is one great figure, and it has taken in all Christian consciousness, that again and again this work with Christ has been asserted to be the true service in the army of a great master, of a great captain, who goes before us to his victory, that it is asserted that in that captain, in the entrance into his army, every power is set free. Do you remember the words that a good many of us read or heard yesterday in our churches, where Jesus was doing one of His miracles, and it is said that a devil was cast out, the dumb spake? Every power becomes the man's possession, and he uses it in his freedom, and he fights with it with all his force, just as soon as the devil is cast out of him. I have tried to tell you the noblest motive in which you should be a pure, an upright, a faithful, and a strong man. It is not for the salvation of your life, it is not for the salvation of yourself. It is not for the satisfaction of your tastes. It is that you may take your place in the great army of God and go forward having something to do with the work that He is doing in the world. You remember the days of the war, and how ashamed of himself a man felt who never touched with his finger the great struggle in which the nation was engaged. Oh, to go through this life and never touch with my finger the vast work that Christ is doing, and when the cry of triumph arises at the end to stand there, not having done one little, unknown, unnoticed thing to bring about that which is the true life of the man and of the world, that is awful. And I dare to believe that there are young men in this church this morning who, failing to be touched by every promise of their own salvation and every threatening of their own damnation, will still lift themselves up and take upon them the duty of men, and be soldiers of Jesus Christ, and have a part in the battle, and have a part somewhere in the victory that is sure to come. Don't be selfish anywhere. Don't be selfish, most of all, in your religion. Let yourselves free into your religion, and be utterly unselfish. Claim your freedom in service. II. THOUGHT AND ACTION. I want once more to read to you these words from the eighth chapter of the Gospel of St. John: "As He spake these words, many believed on Him. Then said Jesus to those Jews which believed on Him, If ye continue in My word, then are ye My disciples indeed; And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. They answered Him, We be Abraham's seed, and were never in bondage to any man: how sayest Thou, Ye shall be made free? Jesus answered them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin. And the servant abideth not in the house for ever: but the Son abideth ever. If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed." There are two great regions in which the life of every true man resides. They are the region of action and the region of thought. It is impossible to separate these two regions from one another and to bid one man live in one of them alone and the other man live only in the other of them. It is impossible to say to the business man that he shall live only in the region of action, it is impossible to say to the scholar that he shall live only in the region of thought, for thought and action make one complete and single life. Thought is not simply the sea upon which the world of action rests, but, like the air which pervades the whole solid substance of our globe, it permeates and fills it in every part. It is thought which gives to it its life. It is thought which makes the manifestation of itself in every different action of man. I hope we are not so deluded as men have been sometimes, as some men are to-day, that we shall try to separate these two lives from one another, and one man say, "Everything depends upon my action, and I care not what I think," or, as men have said, at least, in other times, "If I think right, it matters not how I act." But the right thought and the right action make one complete and single man. Now we have been speaking, upon these Monday noons, with regard to the freedom of that highest life which is lived under the inspiration of Jesus Christ and which we call the Christian life. We have claimed that it is the highest of all lives because it is the freest of all lives, that it is the freest of all lives because it is the highest, and it may be that we have thought that it was true with regard to the active life in which men live, it may be that we have somehow persuaded ourselves, that it has seemed to us as if there were evidence that a man who lived his life in the following of Jesus Christ was a free man in regard to his activity. But now there comes to us the other thought, and it is impossible for us to meet together as we have met together again and again here without asking with regard to the other region of man's life and how it is with man there, for there are a great many people, I believe, who think that while the Christian faith offers to man a noble sphere of action and sets free powers that would otherwise remain unchanged, yet when we come to the region of thought or belief, there it is inevitable that man should know himself, when he accepts the faith of Jesus Christ, it is inevitable that there the man should become less free than it has been thought that he was before the blessed Saviour was accepted as the Master and the ruler of his life. Men say to themselves and to one another, "Yes, I shall be freer to act, I shall be nobler in my action, but I shall certainly enchain mind and spirit, I shall certainty bind myself to think, away from the rich freedom of thought in which I have been inclined to live." We make very much of free thought in these days. Let us always remember that free thought means the opportunity to think, and not the opportunity not to think. We rejoice in the way in which our fathers came to this country and in their children perpetuated the purpose of their coming, in order that they might have freedom to worship God. Do we worship God? Simply to have attained freedom and not to use freedom for its true purpose, not to live within the world of freedom according to the life which is given to us there--that is to do dishonor to the freedom, to disown the purpose for which the freedom has been given to us. I want to speak to you then, while I may speak to-day, with regard to the freedom of the Christian thought. I want to claim, that which I believe with all my soul, that he who lives in the faith of Jesus Christ lives in the freest action of his mental powers, and there sees before him and makes himself a part of the large world into which man shall enter, in which he has perfect liberty and can exercise his powers as he could never have exercised them without. It is not very strange to think that men should have sometimes come to think that the religion of Jesus Christ was a slavery that was laid upon the mind of man, because very often those who have been the disciples of that religion, those who have been the preachers and exponents of that religion, have claimed just exactly that thing. They have seemed to say to themselves and to one another, to the world to which they speak, that man does give up the powers of his reason when he enters into the powers of his faith, when he enters into the great realm of faith. Led by some sort of influence, led by some heresy with regard to the capacity of man, or with regard to the dealing of God with man, or with regard to the purposes of man's life upon the earth, they have been content to say that man must give up the power of thought in order that he might enter into the Christian life and attain to all the purposes of the Christian discipline, they have been content to say that man must give up the noblest power of his nature in order to enter upon the highest life. Well might a man hesitate, hesitate whatever the blessings that were offered to him in the fulness of the Christian experience, if he were called upon to give up that which made the very centre and glory of his life, that which linked him most immediately to the God from whom he sprang. It would be as if in the storm the ship should cast over its engine in order to save its own life. The ship might be saved a little while from going down in the depths of despair, but it never would reach the port to which it had been bound; it never would accomplish the purpose of the voyage upon which it had set forth. Let us put absolutely away from, us all such thoughts. Let us come under the inspiration of Jesus Christ Himself, who says to us, in these words which we have repeatedly read to one another, that it is the truth that is to make us free, and that the entrance of the man therefore into that freedom is the largest freedom, of every region of man's life. I want to speak to you of the way in which my Master, Jesus Christ, appeals to the intelligence of man, of the way in which He comes to us in the noblest part of our nature, and claims us there for our true life within Himself. I would feel altogether wrong if I let you depart, if I allowed you to meet here with me week after week and say these words which I am privileged to speak to you unless I did thus claim that the Christian life is the largest life of the human intellect, that in it the noblest and central powers of man shall attain to their true liberty. It is given for us perhaps to ask ourselves for one moment why it is that man thinks, is ready to think, that he must give up the very noblest part of his life, his powers of thinking, in order that he may enter into Christianity. It seems to me that there are certain reasons for it which we can see; but how fallacious those reasons are! Is it not partly because man, when he is called upon to live Jesus' life, when he is called upon to be a spiritual creature, immediately sees that he is entering into a new and different region from that in which his reason has always been exercised. He has been dealing with those things that belong to this earth, with the different duties and opportunities and pleasures that present themselves to him every day, and that higher and loftier region into which he has entered seems to have no capacity to call forth those powers which he has been using in this lower region. And then I think again there is upon the souls of men who deal with Christianity one great conviction which is very deep and strong. It is that the Christian religion cannot be absolutely that which it presents itself to human mankind as being, because it is so rich in the blessings that it offers, because it comes with such a large enjoyment to our human life, and opens such great opportunities for human living. Is it not because it seems to us too good to be true that we sometimes turn away from Christianity, and think that if we enter it at all we must enter it in the dark, that it cannot possibly appeal to these human natures and make them understand its truth, and let them take it into their intelligence that thence it may issue into the soul and become the guiding power of the life? Sometimes it seems as if Christianity were so high that it was impossible that man should attain to it, as if it were something altogether beyond our human powers. Do you want me, a creature with this human body and this human relationship, with this body and with these perpetual bindings and connections with my fellow-men, do you want me to mount up and live among the stars and hold communion with the God of all? And if you want me to, is there any possibility of my doing it? Such a life is glorious, but not for me. It goes beyond any capacity that I possess. Ask yourselves, my friends, if something like this which I have tried to describe is not very often in your minds as you hear the magnificent invitations which Christ gives to the human soul to live its fullest life, to man to be his fullest being. There are, no doubt, other reasons which present themselves to men, and of those I do not speak. I will not think that the men who are listening here to me now, in a base and low way shrink from the evidence of Christianity and from the life of Christ because they do not want to enter into that religion because it would make too great demands upon them in the sacrifices that they would be called upon to make. It is said sometimes, and I doubt not that it is sometimes true, that men will not see the power and truth of Christianity because they do not want to see it. It seems to me that the other is also often true, and it is that upon which we would much rather dwell. Men sometimes hesitate at Christianity and tremble, and will not enter into the great region that is open to them, because they do not want it so intimately. The critical, the sceptical disposition is very often born just of man's perception of the glory of the life that is offered to him, and of the intense desire that is at the bottom of his soul to enter into that life. Who is the man that criticises the ship most carefully as she lies at the wharf, that will see what capacity she has for the great voyage that she has set before her? Is he the man who means to linger carelessly upon the bank and never sail away, or the man who is obliged, if she can sail across the ocean, to go with her? Just in proportion to the depth of interest with which we look upon all Christian truth we must be deep questioners with regard to the truth of that truth. We must search into all its evidence. We must try to understand how it commends itself to all our minds. But first of all we want to know certainly what Christianity is, if it is able to deal with the thing with which we are puzzling or never to give an intelligent definition of it. How is it now? I go to a certain man and ask him, "Why do you not believe in Christianity?" and he says, "It is incredible. I cannot believe in it." "What is it that you cannot believe in?" and then he takes forsooth some little point of Christian doctrine, some speculation of some Christian teacher, some dogma of some Christian church, and says, "That is incredible," as if that were Christianity. Over and over again men are telling that they do not believe in Christianity, when the real thing that they do not believe in is something that is no essential part of Christian faith whatsoever. They never have given to themselves a real definition of what the Christ and the Christianity in which they are called upon to believe, into which they are invited to enter, really is. The lecturer goes up and down the land and in the face of mighty audiences he denounces Christianity. He declares it to be unintelligible and absurd, to be monstrous and brutal. And when you ask what it is that he is thus denouncing, what it is that he is thus convicting over and over again, you find that it is something not simply which makes no part of Christianity, but which is absolutely hostile to the spirit of Christianity itself. Many and many a sceptical lecturer is denouncing that which Christian men would, with all their hearts, denounce; is declaring that to be untrue which no true Christian thinker really believes, that which is no real part of the great Christian faith, which is our glory. Do not think when I speak thus, when I say that there are things attached to Christianity which men do not believe, that they do not believe in the great truth of Jesus, without them, which men denouncing think that they are denouncing the religion which is saving the world. Do not think that I am simply paring away our great Christian faith, and making it mean just as little as possible in order that men may accept it into their lives. I am coming to the heart and soul of it. I want to know, if my life is all bound up with this religion of Jesus Christ, I want to know intrinsically what that religion is. I will scatter a thousand things which in the devout thought of men have fastened themselves to it. It is but clearing the ship for action, the making it ready that it may do its work, the binding everything tight just before the storm comes on, for that is just the moment when nothing essential to the ship itself must be cast away, when I make sure, if I can, that every plank and timber, that every iron and brass is in its true place and ready for the strain that may be put upon it. But what, then, is the Christian religion? It is the simple following of the divine person, Jesus Christ, who, entering into our humanity, has made evident two things--the love of God for that humanity, and the power of that humanity to answer to the love of God. The one thing that the eye of the Christian sees and never can lose is that majestic, simple figure, great in its simplicity, in its innocence, in its purity and in its unworldliness, that walked once on this earth and that walks forever through the lives of men, showing Himself to human kind, manifest in human kind. The power to receive it, the divine life wakened in every child of man by the divine life manifested in Jesus Christ. That is the great Christian faith, and the man becomes a Christian in his belief when he assures himself that that manifestation of the divine life has been made and is perpetually being made, and he answers to that appeal of the Christ. He manifests his belief in action when he gives himself to the education and the guiding of that Christ, that in him there may be awakened the life of divinity, which is his true human life. Is it not glorious, this absolute simplicity of the Christian faith? It is not primarily a truth; it is a person, it is He who walked in Galilee and Judea, who sat in the houses of mankind, who hung upon the cross, in order that He might perfectly manifest how God could live and how man could suffer in the obedience to the life of God, and then sent forth out of that inspiration and said, "Lo, I am with you always, doing this very thing, being this very Saviour, even to the end of the world." That which the Christian man believes to-day as a Christian, whatever else he may believe in his private speculation, in his personal opinion, is this: The life of God manifest in Jesus of Nazareth and thenceforth going out into the world wakening the divine capacity in every man. You say, "How can a man believe that? What evidence is there of it?" The personal evidence of Jesus Christ himself. It is the self testimony of Christ that makes the assurance of the Christian faith. Does that sound to you all unreasonable? Do you turn here in your pew or in your aisle and say, "After all, it is the old story which I have tested and know to be untrue." Suppose yourself back there in Jerusalem. Suppose the self testimony came to you from the very person of Jesus Christ. Suppose the words that He absolutely said and the deeds that He absolutely did bore to you a testimony that some greater than a human life was there, and that then, as you pressed close to Him and became a part of His life, you found your own life awakened and became a nobler man, ashamed to sin, aspiring after holiness, thinking noble thoughts, lifting yourself not above the earth, but lifting yourself with the whole great earth, which then is taken up into the presence of God and made sacred through and through. I know no man in whom I trust except by the personal evidence that he bears to me of himself. I know no man's nature finally but by that testimony which the nature gives me of him. Bring me all evidence that the man is trustworthy, and then when I am convinced I will go and stand in the presence of that man himself, and he shall tell me. So the world stood, so the world stands to-day in the presence of Jesus Christ. His presence on earth is an historic fact. The words that He spoke are written down in a true record. The deeds that He did are the history of the manifestations of His character, and the story of His christendom is the continued manifestation of His life, the divine life in the life of man, made divine through Him. Now, a question that comes in the Christian's mind is "Why don't people believe this?" Why should they not? Is it not written in the historical record? Has it not manifested itself in the experience of mankind? If it has, surely then it appeals to man's reason, and is not merely the act of the blind, stupid thing which we call faith, but it is the noblest action of that hour in which I believe, in the heavens above me and in the earth under my feet, in the brother with whom I have to do in the long course of history, in the total humanity which has grandly lived. The reason that men do not believe it is that of course there seems to be to them some strange and previous presumption with regard to it, something which makes the story incredible. They say it is the supernatural in it, that it goes beyond the ordinary experience of man. Ah! it seems also strange to me, the ordinary experience of man. Who dares to dream that human life has lived its completest and shown the noblest power of receiving God into itself? Who dares to think that these few thousand years have exhausted this majestic and mysterious being that we call man? Who dares to think of his own life that, in these few thirty, forty, fifty years that he has lived, he has known and shown all that God can do in and for him? Who dares to say that it is impossible, that it is improbable, that he who is the child of God shall receive some newer and closer access to his father, that there shall come some new revelation which shall be written not in a book, not upon the skies, not in the history of human kind, not on the rocks under our feet, but here in our human flesh, that there shall be an incarnation, that the God who is perpetually trying to manifest Himself to human kind should find at last, should take at last the most exquisite, the most sensitive, the most perfect, the most divine of all material on which to write His message, and in that human nature show at once what God was and what man is? Until there be some exhaustive sight of human nature as that, it is in no wise improbable that there would be that which outgoes our observation, that once in the long music of our human life the great key-note of humanity shall be struck, that once in our great groping after the God who made us He shall seem to draw the veil aside, nay, more than that, shall come and like the sunlight crowd Himself through every cloud until He takes possession of our humanity. "Ay," but you say, "those miracles in the life of Jesus Christ, how strange those are; how strange that He should have touched the water and the water become wine; how strange that He should have called to the dead man and he should have come forth from the tomb; how strange that He should have spoken to the waters and the storm grow still!" Ah, my friends, it seems to me that there again we are dishonoring nature as just before we did dishonor man. There again we are thinking that we have exhausted the capacity of this wondrous world in which we live. What is the glory of that world? That it answers to human kind. In the mystic tradition of the Book of Genesis it is told how, when God first made man, He set him master of this world and all its powers; and, ever since, the world has been answering to man, who is its master, and every message that comes back to him, every response that the field makes to the farmer, or that the rock makes to the scientist, is but an assertion and the culmination and the fulfilment of that which God did back there. As man has been, so has the world responded to his touch and call. Suppose that to-morrow morning the perfect man should come, not the man simply of the twentieth century or of the twenty-first, who shall be greater in his humanity than we, but suppose the perfect man, the perfect man because the divine man, comes. I cannot dream that nature shall not have words to say and a response to make to him that it will not make to these poor hands of mine. I can do something with the rock and field, I can do something with the sea and sky. What shall he do who is to my humanity what the perfect is to the absolutely and dreadfully imperfect? What shall the divine man do? When Paul speaks in that great verse of his and tells us how the whole creation groaneth and travaileth waiting for the manifestation of the Son of God, the whole future history of human science, of man's knowledge and use of the world, is in his words. The world shall know man as fast as man shows himself, and when the Son of God shall be manifested, then the groaning and travailing creation shall set all its powers free, and with the knowledge with which it floods him and with the usages and service with which it supplies him, it shall claim at last its glory as the servant, the obedient servant of man. The Son of man has come. You may at least suppose it if you do not believe it. And if He came to-morrow morning, would not this whole world lift itself up and answer Him? Who can say what the hills and valleys and trees and oceans and seas would have to say to Him who at last manifested that which the world had been waiting and groaning for, the manifestation, the complete manifestation, of the Son of God? That is the reason why I claim that miracles--I do not know that there have not been fastened upon the miraculous power of Jesus stories of things, thinking that they were done miraculously, which He did by what we choose in our ignorance to call the ordinary powers of nature--but I do know that the coming into the world must have been more to this world, that it would have been the most unnatural and incredible thing if the divine man coming here had been to the world and the world had been to him only what it is to us. And now the question comes to each one of us--for I must hasten on--how shall a man get within the region of that which perhaps you recognize, which I do not see how you can help believing, how shall a man get within the region of that higher power and let it be the rule of his life, let it manifest itself through him? How do you get within the power of any force, my friends? Here is Christ, a force if He is anything, not a spectacle, not a miracle, not a marvel, not wonderful to look at, but a force to feel. How do you get within the power of any force? You look out of your window, and men say the frost is freezing, and you see your neighbors wrapping their cloaks about them and going down the street as if they were cold. Men say that a storm is blowing, and you see them shelter themselves against the storm that blows. How will you make that storm a true thing for yourself? Go out into it. Let the frost smite your cheek, let the rain beat into your face, let the wind blow upon your back, and then you know by personal experience what you had known by your observation before. And so I say that only when a man puts himself where he can feel the power of the Christ, where it is possible for him, if there be a Christ, if Christ be all that the Christian religion claims that He is, only when a man puts himself where he needs and must have and must certainly feel that Christ, if there be a Christ, only then has he a right to disbelieve if the Christ be not there, only then has he a right to believe if the Christ find him there. And where is that? When a man takes up the highest duties, when he accepts the noblest life, when he lays open his soul to the great exactions and obligations which belong to him in his spiritual nature, when he tries to be a pure man, a devoted man, a noble man, only then has he a chance to know that force which only then comes into its activity. Only when a man tries to live the divine life can the divine Christ manifest Himself to him. Therefore the true way for you to find Christ is not to go groping in a thousand books. It is not for you to try evidences about a thousand things that people have believed of Him, but it is for you to undertake so great a life, so devoted a life, so pure a life, so serviceable a life, that you cannot do it except by Christ, and then see whether Christ helps you. See whether there comes to you the certainty that you are a child of God, and the manifestation of the child of God becomes the most credible, the most certain thing to you in all of history. It may have been that such moments have been in some of your lives. Think of the noblest moment that you ever passed, of the time when, lifted up to the heights of glory, or bowed down into the very depths of sorrow, every power that was in you was called forth to meet the exigency or to do the work. Think of the time when you stood upon the mountain top or plunged into the gulf. Remember that time--it may have been the death of your little child, it may have been your own sickness, it may have been your failure in business, it may have been the moment of your complete success in business, when you were solemnized as the great shower of wealth poured down upon you, and you felt that now you really had some work for God to do in the world. Ah, look back to that moment and see if then it seemed so strange to you that God should come into the presence and person of His universe, of His children, and take possession of their life. We grow so easily to forget our noblest and most splendid times. It seems to me there is no maxim for a noble life like this: Count always your highest moments your truest moments. Believe that in the time when you were the greatest and most spiritual man, then you were your truest self. Men do just the other thing. They say it was "an exception, a derangement of my nature, an exultation, a frenzy, it was something that I must not expect again." How about the time when they plunged into baseness and made their soul like a dog's soul? They shudder at the thought of that because they think it would come again. Nay, nay, shudder if you will at the thought of that, but believe that the highest you ever have been you may be all the time, and vastly higher still if only the power of the Christ can occupy you and fill your life all the time. I said that there were many things that people attached to Christianity that did not belong to Christianity. I know there are. It is impossible that a great system like the system of Christ, a great person like the great person of Christ, should be in the world, and men not have speculated and thought in regard to Him. Those are not Christianity. I want to-day, if I may do nothing else, to tell you absolutely how simple and single the Christian faith, the Christ, really is. It is not the inspiration of this book or any theory in regard to its inspiration. It is not the election of certain souls and the perdition of other souls. It is not the length of man's punishment, whether it is going to be forever and ever, or whether man is to go to his restoration. It is not even the constitution of the divine life, the great truth of the way in which God lives within His own nature. None of these are the essence of the Christian faith, but simply this: The testimony of the divine in man to the divine in man that lifts the man up and says: "For me to be brutal is unmanly; to be divine is to be my only true self." Why do I believe in God? If some man asked me, when on the street, I think I should have an answer to give him. I could give one great reason--two great reasons which are really but one great reason--why I believe in God. I believe in God, my friends, I believe in God with all my soul, because this world is inexplicable without Him and explicable with Him, and because Jesus Christ believed in Him; and it was Jesus Christ that showed me that this world demanded God and was inexplicable without Him; that made certain every suspicion and dream that I had had before, and Jesus Christ believed in Him. Shall I go to the expert about chemistry or geology and ask him the truth with regard to the structure of the world and the meeting of its atoms and forces? And shall not I go to the spiritual expert, to him in whom the spiritual life of man has been clearest, and say, "O Christ, tell me what is the centre and source and end of all?" When he says, "God," shall I not believe Him? It is impossible, as I have suggested to you again and again in what I have been saying, that a man can have his mind open to the receipt of the truth of a person unless he be a certain kind of man himself. I do not know but the basest and the wickedest man who lives may believe in the Copernican theory, or that two and two make four, yet I cannot help believing that if he were a better and truer man he would believe even those truths, outside of himself, of science and arithmetic, more fully and deeply. Men were not all astray in the first thing that they were seeking after, though they were wofully astray in many things that they said about it, when they talked about faith and works. Faith enters in through the soul that does a noble deed, and in the coming in of that faith the higher deed becomes possible to him. Hear the words that Jesus said, words that our age must take to itself until it shall be wiser than it is to-day: "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." "If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God." Ponder those words, my friends. See how reasonable they are. See how important they are. See how they have the secret of your own life, of what it is to do, of what it is to be, forever and ever sealed up in them. These two things, I am sure, are true with regard to the method of belief--that no man can ever go forward to a higher belief until he is true to the faith which he already holds. Be the noblest man that your present faith, poor and weak and imperfect as it is, can make you to be. Live up to your present growth, your present faith. So, and so only, as you take the next straight step forward, as you stand strong where you are now, so only can you think the curtain will draw back and there will be revealed to you what lies beyond. And then live in your positives and not in your negatives. I am tired of asking man what his religious faith is and having him tell me what he don't believe. He tells me that he don't believe in baptism or inspiration or in the trinity. If I asked a man where he was going and he told me he was not going to Washington, what could I know about where he was going? He would not go anywhere so long as he simply rested in that mere negative. Be done with saying what you don't believe, and find somewhere or other the truest, divinest thing to your soul that you do believe to-day, and work that out: work it out in all the action and consecration of the soul in the doing of your work. This I take to be the real freedom of Christian thought--when the man goes forward always into a fuller and fuller belief as he becomes obedient to that which he already holds. But yet I know I have not touched the opinion, the feeling, nay, I will say the black prejudice that is upon many, many minds. "Ah, but you have bound yourself," you say. "You have given your assent to a certain creed, you believe certain dogmas. To put it as simply as you have put it to us this morning, you believe a certain person. I, I am free, I believe nothing, I can go wandering here and everywhere and disbelieve to my heart's content." Yes, I do believe something, and I thank God for it. But I deny with all my intelligence and soul the very idea that in believing that something I have shut my soul to evidence. I am ready to hear any man living, any man living to-day who will prove to me that the Christ has never lived and that he is not the Lord of men. I will listen to any man who is in earnest and who is sincere. I will not listen to any trifler, caviller, who is merely trying to make a point and to get ahead of the poor arguments that I can use; but let any fellow-man come to me with an earnest face, either of puzzled doubt, or of earnest and convinced unbelief, and say to me, "Are you not wrong?" or "I believe that you are wrong," and I, of course, will talk to him. Do I want to believe anything that cannot be proved to be true, anything that my intelligence shall not receive? Why should I believe it? Shall I trust myself to the ship merely because I have refused to examine its timbers, when men tell me that it is unsound? Shall I throw away my truthfulness simply for the sake of holding what I want, what I choose to call the truth? It is not because it is safe, it is not because it is pleasant, it is because it seems to the Christian man to be true, that the Christian man believes in the presence, the life, the power of Jesus Christ. Therefore come, let me hear every one of you what you have to say. Let me see where that upon which my soul rests for its very life breaks down; but, until I hear, I will go forward, strong in the assurance of that which takes hold of all my life, convinces my reason, lays hold of my affections, enlarges my actions, and opens my whole being to the freedom of the child of God. And why should not you, my friends, why should not you? I honor the sceptic, the faithful and devout sceptic, with all my soul. I am no scorner of the man who, without scorn, finds it impossible to accept that which to my soul seems to be the absolute truth. I will scorn only that which God scorns. He scorns the scorner, and only the scorning man is worthy of the scorn of human kind. But while I honor the sceptic, while I invite him to make manifest his scepticism, not merely for his sake but for my own, I will not hold, I cannot hold that he is living a larger life than the man whom the Christ invites to every noble duty, to every faithful fulfilment of himself. I will feel that he, perhaps by the necessity of his nature, perhaps by his circumstances, perhaps by something which came down to him from his ancestors, is shut in, is a contained and hampered and hindered man, and I will long for the day when he, lifting up his eyes, sees that Christ walking in the midst of humanity, and yet at the head of humanity, manifesting our human nature, but outgoing our human nature, glorifying our streets while He interprets our streets for the first time into their full meaning, giving to our shops and houses a radiancy which they have expected and dreamed of, but never felt, and tempting us always into a deeper belief in Him, which, embodying itself in a completer consecration to the right and true, shall lead us on into the fulness which he fills. Can I, can you, have Christ in human history, Christ in the world, and live as if He were not here? Will you not give yourself to that of Him which you know to-day? Will you not at least lay hold of the very skirts of His garment and say, "I see that Thou art good, I see that Thou art true. Lead me into the goodness and truth which by communion and sympathy shall know Thee more. Lord, I believe. I believe just a little. Lord, I know that that must come which Thou hast said has come in Thee. I would enter into Thee, to see whether it has indeed come in Thee, and Thou shalt lead me, Thou shalt teach me. Lord, I believe. I have not grasped Thee. No man has grasped Thee. The man who says that he has grasped Thee proves thereby that he does not know Thee. I know that I have not grasped Thee, but I will follow Thee by doing righteousness, by serving truth, by knowing and acknowledging Thee until all of that shall become clear to me. I will follow Thee, and Thou shalt lead me into the glory which Thou Thyself abidest in. Lord, I believe, Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief." The story of the present, the hope, the pure, certain hope of the future is in those great words: "Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief." III. THE DUTY OF THE CHRISTIAN BUSINESS MAN. I will read to you once again the words which I have read before, the words of Jesus in the eighth chapter of the Gospel of St. John: "As He spake these words, many believed on Him. Then said Jesus to those Jews which believed on Him, if ye continue in My word, then are ye My disciples indeed; and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. They answered Him, We be Abraham's seed, and were never in bondage to any man: how sayest Thou, Ye shall be made free? Jesus answered them, Verily, verily, I say unto you. Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin. And the servant abideth not in the house forever: but the Son abideth ever. If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed." I do not know how any man can stand and plead with his brethren for the higher life, that they will enter into and make their own the life of Christ and God, unless he is perpetually conscious that around them with whom he pleads there is the perpetual pleading and the voice of God Himself. Unless a man believes that, everything that he has to say must seem, in the first place, impertinent, and, in the second place, almost absolutely hopeless. Who is man that he shall plead with his fellow-man for the change of a life, for the entrance into a whole new career, for the alteration of a spirit, for the surrounding of himself with a new region in which he has not lived before? But if it be so, that God is pleading with every one of His children to enter into the highest life; if it be so, that God is making His application and His appeal to every soul to know Him, and in Him to know himself, then one may plead with earnestness and plead with great hopefulness before his brethren. And so it is. The great truth of Jesus Christ is that, that God is pleading with every soul, not merely in the words which we hear from one another, not merely in the words which we read from His book, but in every influence of life; and, in those unknown influences which are too subtle for us to understand or perceive, God is forever seeking after the souls of His children. I cannot stand before you for the last time that I shall stand In these meetings, my friends, without reminding myself and without reminding you of that; without reminding myself also and without trying to remind you of how absolutely conformable it is to everything that man does in this world. The great richness of nature, the great richness of life, comes when we understand that behind every specific action of man there is some one of the more elemental and primary forces of the universe that are always trying to express themselves. There is nothing that man does that finds its beginning within itself, but everything, every work of every trade, of every occupation, is simply the utterance of some one of those great forces which lie behind all life, and in the various ways of the different generations and of the different men are always trying to make their mark upon the world. Behind the power that the man exercises there always lies the great power of life, the continual struggle of nature to write herself in the life and work of man, the power of beauty struggling to manifest itself, the harmony that is always desiring to make itself known. To the merchant there are the great laws of trade, of which his works are but the immediate expression. To the mechanic there are the continual forces of nature, gravitation uttering itself in all its majesty, made no less majestic because it simply takes its expression for the moment in some particular exercise of his art. To the ship that sails upon the sea there are the everlasting winds that come out of the treasuries of God and fulfil His purpose in carrying His children to their destination. There is no perfection of the universe and of the special life of man in the universe until it comes to this. The greatest of all forces are ready without condescension, are ready as the true expression of their life, to manifest themselves in the particular activities which we find everywhere, and which are going on everywhere. The little child digs his well in the sea-shore sand, and the great Atlantic, miles deep, miles wide, is stirred all through and through to fill it for him. Shall it not be so then here to-day, and shall it not be the truth, upon which we let our minds especially dwell, and which we keep in our souls all the time that I am speaking and you are listening, that however He may be hidden from our sight God is the ultimate fact and the final purpose and power of the universe, and that everything that man tries to do for his fellow-man is but the expression of that love of God which is everywhere struggling to utter itself in blessing, to give itself away to the soul of every one for whom He cares? It is in this truth that I find the real secret, the deepest meaning, of the everlasting dissatisfaction of man that is always ready to be stirred. We moralize, we philosophize about the discontent of man. We give little reasons for it; but the real reason of it all is this, that which everything lying behind it really signifies: that man is greater than his circumstances, and that God is always calling to him to come up to the fulness of his life. Dreadful will be the day when the world becomes contented, when one great universal satisfaction spreads itself over the world. Sad will be the day for every man when he becomes absolutely contented with the life that he is living, with the thoughts that he is thinking, with the deeds that he is doing, when there is not forever beating at the doors of his soul some great desire to do something larger, which he knows that he was meant and made to do because he is the child of God. And there is the real secret of the man's struggle with his sins. It is not simply the hatefulness of the sin, as we have said again and again, but it is the dim perception, the deep suspicion, the real knowledge at the heart of the man, that there is a richer and a sinless region in which it is really meant for him to dwell. Man stands separated from that life of God, as it were, by a great, thick wall, and every effort to put away his sin, to make himself a nobler and a purer man, is simply his beating at the inside of that door which stands between him and the life of God, which he knows that he ought to be living. It is like the prisoner hidden in his cave, who feels through all the thick wall that shuts him out from it the sunlight and the joyous life that is outside, who knows that his imprisonment is not his true condition, and so with every tool that his hands can grasp and with his bleeding hands themselves beats on the stone, that he may find his way out. And the glory and the beauty of it is that while he is beating upon the inside of the wall there is also a noble power praying upon the outside of that wall, The life to which he ought to come is striving in its turn, upon its side, to break away the hindrance that is keeping him from the thing he ought to be, that is keeping him from the life he ought to live. God, with His sunshine and lightning, with the great majestic manifestations of Himself, and with all the peaceful exhibitions of His life, is forever trying, upon His side of the wall, to break away the great barrier that separates the sinner's life from Him. Great is the power, great is the courage of the sinner, when through the thickness of the walls he feels that beating life of God, when he knows that he is not working alone, when he is sure that God is wanting him just as truly, far more truly, than he wants God. He bears himself to a nobler struggle with his enemy and a more determined effort to break down the resistance that stands between him and the higher life. Our figure is all imperfect, as all our figures are so imperfect, because it seems to be the man all by himself, working by himself, until he shall come forth into the life of God, as if God waited there to receive him when he came forth the freed man, and as if the working of the freedom upon the sinner's side had not something also of the purpose of God within him. God is not merely in the sunshine; God is in the cavern of the man's sin. God is with the sinner wherever he can be. There is no soul so black in its sinfulness, so determined in its defiant obstinacy, that God has abandoned his throne room at the centre of the sinner's life, and every movement is the God movement and every effort is the God force, with which man tries to break forth from his sin and come forth into the full sunlight of a life with God. Do you not think how full of hope it is? Do you not see that when this great conception of the universe, which is Christ's conception, which beamed in every look that He shed upon the world, which was told in every word that He spoke and which was in every movement of His hand--do you not see how, when this great conception of the universe takes possession of a man, then all his struggle with his sin is changed, it becomes a strong struggle, a glorious struggle. He hears perpetually the voice of Christ, "Be of good cheer. I have overcome the world. You shall overcome it by the same strength which overcame with Me." And then another thing. When a man comes forth into the fulness of that life with God, when at last he has entered God's service and the obedience to God's will, and the communion with God's life, then there comes this wonderful thing, there comes the revelation of the man's past. We dare to tell the man that if he enters into the divine life, if he makes himself a servant of God and does God's will out of obedient love, he shall then be strong and wise. One great element of his strength is going to be this: A marvellous revelation that is to come to him of how all his past has been filled with the power of that spirit with which he has at last entered into communion, to which he has at last submitted himself. Man becomes the child of God, becomes the servant of Jesus Christ, and this marvellous revelation amazes him. He sees that back through all the years of his most obstinate and careless life, through all his wilfulness and resistance, through all his profligacy and black sin, God has been with him all the time, beating himself upon his life, showing him how He desired to call him to Himself, and that the final submission does not win God. It simply submits to the God who has been with the soul all the time. Can there be anything more winning to the soul than that, anything that brings a deeper shame to you, than to have it revealed to you, suddenly or slowly, that from the first day that you came into this world, nay, before your life was an uttered fact in this world, God has been loving you, and seeking you, and planning for you, and making every effort that He could make in consistency with the free will with which He endowed you from the centre of His own life, that you might become His and therefore might become truly yourself? Through all the years in which you were obstinate and rebellious, through all the years in which you defied Him, nay, through the years in which you denied Him and said that He did not exist, He was with you all the time. What shall I say to my friend who is an atheist? Shall I believe that until he comes to a change of his opinions and recognizes that there is indeed a ruling love, a great and fatherly God for all the world, that he has nothing to do with that God? Shall I believe that God has nothing to do with him until he acknowledges God? God would be no God to me if He were that, if He left the man absolutely unhelped until the man beat at the doors of His divine helpfulness and said, "I believe in Thee at last. Now help me." And to the atheist there appears the light of the God whom he denies. Into every soul, just so far and just so fast as it is possible for that soul to receive it, God beats His life and gives His help. That is what makes a man hopeful of all his fellow-men as he looks around upon them and sees them in all the conditions of their life. And this could only be if that were true, if that is true, which we are dwelling upon constantly, the absolute naturalness of the Christian life, that it is man's true life, that it is no foreign region into which some man may be transported and where he lives an alien to all his own essential nature and to all the natural habitudes in which he is intending to exist. There are two ideas of religion which always have abounded, and our great hope is, our great assurance for the future of the world is, that the true and pure idea of religion some day shall grow and take possession of the life of man. One idea, held by very earnest people, embodied in very faithful and devoted lives, is the strangeness of religion to the life of man, as if some morning something dropped out of the sky that had had no place upon our earth before, as if there came the summons to man to be something entirely different from what the conditions of his nature prophesied and intended that he should be. The other idea is that religion comet by the utterance of God from the heavens, but comes up out of the human life of man; that man is essentially and intrinsically religious; that he does not become something else than man when he becomes the servant of Jesus Christ, but then for the first time he becomes man; that religion is not something that is fastened upon the outside of his life, but is the awakening of the truth inside of his life; the Church is but the true fulfilment of human life and society; heaven is but the New Jerusalem that completes all the old Jerusalem and Londons and Bostons that have been here upon our earth. Man, in the fulfilment of his nature by Jesus Christ, is man--not to be something else, our whole humanity is too dear to us. I will cling to this humanity of man, for I do love it, and I will know nothing else. But when man is bidden to look back into his humanity and see what it means to be a man, that humanity means purity, truthfulness, earnestness, and faithfulness to that God of which humanity is a part, that God which manifested that humanity was a part of it, when the incarnation showed how close the divine and human belonged together--when man hears that voice, I do not know how he can resist, why he shall not lift himself up and say, "Now I can be a man, and I can be man only as I share in and give my obedience to and enter into communion with the life of God," and say to Christ, to Christ the revealer of all this, "Here I am, fulfil my manhood." And do not you see how immediately this sweeps aside, as one gush of the sunlight sweeps aside the darkness, do not you see how it sweeps aside all the foolish and little things that people are saying? I say to my friend, "Be a Christian." That means to be a full man. And he says to me, "I have not time to be a Christian. I have not room. If my life was not so full. You don't know how hard I work from morning to night. What time is there for me to be a Christian? What time is there, what room is there for Christianity in such a life as mine?" But does not it come to seem to us so strange, so absurd, if it was not so melancholy, that man should say such a thing as that? It is as if the engine had said it had no room for the steam. It is as if the tree had said it had no room for the sap. It is as if the ocean had said it had no room for the tide. It is as if the man said that he had no room for his soul. It is as if life said that it had no time to live, when it is life. It is not something that is added to life. It is life. A man is not living without it. And for a man to say that "I am so full in life that I have no room for life," you see immediately to what absurdity it reduces itself. And how a man knows what he is called upon by God's voice, speaking to him every hour, speaking to him every moment, speaking to him out of everything, that which the man is called upon to do because it is the man's only life! Therefore time, room, that is what time, that is what room is for--life. Life is the thing we seek, and man finds it in the fulfilment of his life by Jesus Christ. Now, until we understand this and take it in its richness, all religion seems, becomes to us such a little thing that it is not religion at all. You have got to know that religion, the service of Christ, is not something to be taken in in addition to your life; it is your life. It is not a ribbon that you shall tie in your hat, and go down the street declaring yourself that you have accepted something in addition to the life which your fellow-men are living. It is something which, taken into your heart, shall glow in every action so that your fellow-men shall say, "Lo, how he lives! What new life has come into him?" It is that insistence upon the great essentialness of the religious life, it is the insistence that religion is not a lot of things that a man does, but is a new life that a man lives, uttering itself in new actions because it is the new life. "Except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God." So Jesus said to Nicodemus the ruler, Nicodemus the amateur in religions, who came and said, "Perhaps this teacher has something else that I can bind into my catalogue of truths and hold it." Jesus looked him in the face and said: "It is not that, my friend, it is not that; it is to be a new man, it is to be born again. It is to have the new life, which is the old life, which is the eternal life. So alone does man enter into the kingdom of God." I cannot help believing all the time that if our young men knew this, religion would lift itself up and have a dignity and greatness--not a thing for weak souls, but a thing for the manliest soul. Just because of its manliness it is easy. "Is it easy or is it hard, this religion of yours?" people say to us. I am sure I do not know the easy and the hard things. I cannot tell the difference. What is easier than for a man to breathe? And yet, have you never seen a breathless man, a man in whom the breathing was almost stopped, a drowning man, an exhausted man? have you never seen, when the breath was put once more to his nostrils and brought down once more into his empty lungs, the struggle with which he came back to it? It was the hardest thing for him to do, so much harder for him to live than it was for him to die. But by and by see him on his feet, going about his work, helping his fellow-men, living his life, rejoicing in his days, guarding against his dangers, full of life. Is life a hard thing for him? You don't talk about its being hard or easy any more than you talk about life itself. The man who lives in God knows no life except the life of God. Let men know that it is not mere trifling, it is not a thing to be dallied with for an instant, it is not a thing for a man to convince himself by an argument, and then keep as it were locked in a shelf: it is something that is so deep and serious, so deep and serious that when a man has once tested it there is no more chance of his going out of it than there is of his going out of the friendship and the love which holds him with its perpetual expression, with the continued deeper and deeper manifestation of the way in which the living being belongs to him who has a right to his life. Now in the few moments that remain I want to take it for granted most seriously, most earnestly, that the men who are listening to me are in earnest, and I want to try to tell them as a brother might tell a brother, as I might tell to you or try to tell to you if sitting before my fireside, I want to try to answer the question which I know is upon your hearts. "What shall I do about this?" I know you say; "Is this all in the clouds? Is there anything I can do in the right way?" If you are in earnest, I shall try to tell you what I should do, if I were in your place, that I might enter into that life and be the free man that we have tried to describe, of whom we believe certain special and definite things. What are they? In the first place I would put away my sin. There is not a man listening to me now who has not some trick of life, some habit that has possession of him, which he knows is a wrong thing. The very first thing for a man to do is absolutely to set himself against them. If you are foul, stop being licentious, at least stop doing licentious things. If you, in any part of your business, are tricky, and unsound, and unjust, cut that off, no matter what it costs you. There is something clear and definite enough for every man. It is as clear for every man as the sunlight that smites him in his eyes. Stop doing the bad thing which you are doing. It is drawing the bolt away to let whatever mercy may come in come in. Stop doing your sin. You can do that if you will. Stop doing your sin, no matter how mechanical it seems, and then take up your duty, whatever you can do to make the world more bright and good. Do whatever you can to help every struggling soul, to add new strength to any staggering cause, the poor sick man that is by you, the poor wronged man whom you with your influence might vindicate, the poor boy in your shop that you may set with new hope upon the road of life that is beginning already to look dark to him. I cannot tell you what it is. But you know your duty. No man ever looked for it and did not find it. And then the third thing--pray. Yes, go to the God whom you but dimly see and pray to Him in the darkness, where He seems to sit. Ask Him, as if He were, that He will give you that which, if He is, must come from Him, can come from Him alone. Pray anxiously. Pray passionately, in the simplest of all words, with the simplest of all thoughts. Pray, the manliest thing that a man can do, the fastening of his life to the eternal, the drinking of his thirsty soul out of the great fountain of life. And pray distinctly. Pray upon your knees. One grows tired sometimes of the free thought, which is yet perfectly true, that a man can pray anywhere and anyhow. But men have found it good to make the whole system pray. Kneel down, and the very bending of these obstinate and unused knees of yours will make the soul kneel down in the humility in which it can be exalted in the sight of God. And then read your Bible. How cold that sounds! What, read a book to save my soul? Read an old story that my life in these new days shall be regenerated and saved? Yes, do just that, for out of that book, if you read it truly, shall come the divine and human person. If you can read it with your soul as well as with your eyes, there shall come the Christ there walking in Palestine. You shall see Him so much greater than the Palestine in which he walks, that at one word of prayer, as you bend over the illuminated page, there shall lift up that body-being of the Christ, and come down through the centuries and be your helper at your side. So read your Bible. And then seek the Church--oh, yes, the Church. Do you think, my friends, you who stand outside the Church, and blame her for her inconsistencies, and tell of her shortcomings, and point out the corruptions that are in her history, all that are in her present life to-day--do you really believe that there is an earnest man in the Church that does not know the Church's weaknesses and faults just as well as you do? Do you believe that there is one of us living in the life and heart of the Church who don't think with all his conscience, who don't in every day in deep distress and sorrow know how the Church fails of the great life of the Master, how far she is from being what God meant she should be, what she shall be some day? But all the more I will put my life into that Church, all the more I will drink the strength that she can give to me and make what humble contribution to her I can bring of the earnestness and faithfulness of my life. Come into the Church of Jesus Christ. There is no other body on the face of the earth that represents what she represents--the noble destiny of the human soul, the great capacity of human faith, the inexhaustible and unutterable love of God, the Christ, who stands to manifest them all. Now those are the things for a man to do who really cares about all this. Those are the things for an earnest man to do. They have no power in themselves, but they are the opening of the windows. And if that which I believe is true, God is everywhere giving himself to us, the opening of the windows is a signal that we want Him and an invitation that He will be glad enough to answer, to come. Into every window that is open to Him and turned His way, Christ comes, God comes. That is the only story. There is put aside everything else. Election, predestination, they can go where they please. I am sure that God gives Himself to every soul that wants Him and declares its want by the open readiness of the signal which He knows. How did the sun rise on our city this morning? Starting up in the east, the sun came in its majesty into the sky. It smote on the eastward windows, and wherever the window was all closed, even if it were turned eastward, on the sacred side of the city's life, it could not come in; but wherever any eastward window had its curtains drawn, wherever he who slept had left the blinds shut, so that the sun when it came might find its way into his sleepiness, there the sun came, and with a shout awoke its faithful servant who had believed in him even before he had seen him, and said, "Arise, arise from the dead, and I will give thee life." This is the simplicity of it all, my friends. A multitude of other things you need not trouble yourselves about. I amaze myself when I think how men go asking about the questions of eternal punishment and the duration of man's torment in another life, of what will happen to any man who does not obey Jesus Christ. Oh, my friends, the soul is all wrong when it asks that. Not until the soul says, "What will come if I do obey Jesus Christ?" and opens its glorified vision to see all the great things that are given to the soul that enters into the service of the perfect one, the perfect love, not until then the perfect love, the perfect life, come in. A man may be--I believe it with all my heart--so absolutely wrapped up in the glory of obedience, and the higher life, and the service of Christ, that he never once asks himself, "What will come to me if I do not obey?" any more than your child asks you what you will do to him if he is not obedient. Every impulse and desire of his life sets toward obedience. And so the soul may have no theory of everlasting or of limited punishment, or of the other life. Simply now, here, he must have that without which he cannot live, that without which there is no life. Jesus the soul must have, the one yesterday, to-day, and forever; He that is and was and is to be. Men dwell upon what He was, upon what He is; I rather think to-day of what He is to be. And when I see these young men here before me looking to the future and not to the past,--nay, looking to the future and not to the present, valuing the present only as it is the seed ground of the future, the foundation upon which the structure is to rise whose pinnacle shall some day pierce the sky,--I want to tell them of the Jesus that shall be. In fuller comprehension of Him, with deeper understanding of His life, with a more entire impression of what He is and of what He may be to the soul, so men shall understand Him in the days to be, and yet He shall be the same Christ still. The future belongs to Jesus Christ, yes, the same Christ that I believe in and that I call upon you to believe in to-day, but a larger, fuller, more completely comprehended Christ, the Christ that is to be, the same Christ that was and suffered, the same Christ that is and helps, but the same Christ also who, being forever deeper and deeper and more deeply received into the souls of men, regenerates their institutions, changes their life, opens their capacities, surprises them with themselves, makes the world glorious and joyous every day, because it has become the new incarnation, the new presence of the divine life in the life of man. Men are talking about the institutions in which you are engaged, my friends, about the business from which you have come here to worship for this little hour. Men are questioning about what they care to do, what they can have to do with Christianity. They are asking everywhere this question: "Is it possible for a man to be engaged in the activities of our modern life and yet to be a Christian? Is it possible for a man to be a broker, a shopkeeper, a lawyer, a mechanic, is it possible for a man to be engaged in a business of to-day, and yet love his God and his fellow-man as himself?" I do not know. I do not know what transformations these dear businesses of yours have got to undergo before they shall be true and ideal homes for the child of God; but I do know that upon Christian merchants and Christian brokers and Christian lawyers and Christian men in business to-day there rests an awful and a beautiful responsibility: to prove, if you can prove it, that these things are capable of being made divine, to prove that a man can do the work that you have been doing this morning and will do this afternoon, and yet shall love his God and his fellow-man as himself. If he cannot, if he cannot, what business have you to be doing them? If he can, what business have you to be doing them so poorly, so carnally, so unspiritually, that men look on them and shake their heads with doubt? It belongs to Christ in men first to prove that man may be a Christian and yet do business; and, in the second place, to show how a man, as he becomes a greater Christian, shall purify and lift the business that he does and make it the worthy occupation of the Son of God. What shall be our universal law of life? Can we give it as we draw toward our last moment? I think we can. I want to live, I want to live, if God will give me help, such a life that, if all men in the world were living it, this world would be regenerated and saved. I want to live such a life that, if that life changed into new personal peculiarities as it went to different men, but the same life still, if every man were living it, the millennium would be here; nay, heaven would be here, the universal presence of God. Are you living that life now? Do you want your life multiplied by the thousand million so that all men shall be like you, or don't you shudder at the thought, don't you give hope that other men are better than you are? Keep that fear, but only that it may be the food of a diviner hope, that all the world may see in you the thing that man was meant to be, that is, the Christ. Ah, you say, that great world, it is too big; how can I stretch my thought and imagination and conscience to the poor creatures in Africa and everywhere? Then bring it home. Ah, this dear city of ours, this city that we love, this city in which many of us were born, in which all of us are finding the rich and sweet associations of our life, this city, whose very streets we love because they come so close to everything we do and are, cannot we do something for it? Cannot we make its life diviner? Cannot we contribute something that it has not to-day? Cannot you put in it, some little corner of it, a life which others shall see and say, "Ah, that our lives may be like that!" And then the good Boston in which we so rejoice, which we so love, which we would so fain make a part of the kingdom of God, a true city of Jesus Christ, we shall not die without having done something for it. I linger, and yet I must not linger. Oh, my friends, oh, my fellow-men, it is not very long that we shall be here. It is not very long. This life for which we are so careful--it is not very long; and yet it is so long, because, long, long after we have passed away out of men's sight and out of men's memory, the world, with something that we have left upon it, that we have left within it, will be going on still. It is so long because, long after the city and the world have passed away, we shall go on somewhere, somehow, the same beings still, carrying into the depths of eternity something that this world has done for us that no other world could do, something of goodness to get now that will be of value to us a million years hence, that we never could get unless we got it in the short years of this earthly life. Will you know it? Will you let Christ teach it to you? Will you let Christ tell you what is the perfect man? Will you let Him set His simplicity and graciousness close to your life, and will you feel their power? Oh! be brave, be true, be pure, be men, be men in the power of Jesus Christ. May God bless you! May God bless you! Let us pray. IV. TRUE LIBERTY. An earnest appeal to all that enter that Liberty. May I read to you a few words from the eighth chapter of St. John? "Then said Jesus to those Jews which believed on Him, If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." Let us not think, my friends, that there is anything strange about the spectacle which we witnessed this morning. The only strange thing that there could be about it is that anybody should think that it is strange that men should turn aside for half an hour from their ordinary business pursuits, that they should come from the details of life to inquire in regard to the principles, the everlasting principles and purposes of life; that they should turn aside from those things which are occupying them from day to day and make one single hour in the week consecrated to the service of those great things which underlie all life--surely there is nothing very strange. There is nothing more absolutely natural. Every man does it in his own sort of way, in his own choice of time. We have chosen to do it together, on one day of the week during these few weeks which the Christian Church has so largely set apart for special thought and prayer and earnest attempt to approach the God to whom we belong. It is simply as if the stream turned back again to its fountain, that it might refresh itself and make itself strong for the great work that it had to do in watering the fields and turning the wheels of industry. It is simply as if men plodding along over the flat routine of their life chose once in a while to go up into the mountain top, whence they might once in a while look abroad over their life, and understand more fully the way in which they ought to work. These are the principles, these are the pictures which represent that which we have in mind as we come together for a little while each Monday in these few weeks, in order that we may think about things of God and try to realize the depth of our own human life. The first thing that we ought to understand about it is that when we turn aside from life it is only that we go deeper into life. This hour does not stand apart from the rest of the hours of the week, in that we are dealing with things in which the rest of the week has no concern. He who understands life deeply and fully, understands life truly; he has forever renewed his life; and if there comes into our hearts, in the life which we are living, a perpetual sense that life needs renewal, a richening and refreshing, then it is in order that we may go down into the depths and see what lies at the root of things--things that we are perpetually doing and thinking. It is this that brought us together here: it is that we may open to ourselves some newer, higher life. It is that we may understand the life that we may live, along side of and as a richer development of that life which we are living from day to day, which we have been living during the years of our life. How that idea has haunted men in every period of their existence, how it is haunting you, that there is some higher life which it is possible to live! There has never been a religion that has not started there, lifted up its eyes and seen, afar off, what it was possible for man to do from day to day, in contrast with the things which men immediately and presently are. There is not any moment of the human soul which has not rested upon some great conception that man was a nobler being than he was ordinarily conceiving himself to be; that he was not destined to the things which were ordinarily occupying his life; that he might be living a greater and nobler life. It is because the Christian Scriptures have laid most earnestly hold of this idea, it is because it was represented not simply in the words which Christ said, but in the very being which Christ was, that we go to them to get the inspiration and the indication, the revelation and the enlightenment which we need. I have read to you these few words in which Christ declares the whole subject, the whole character of which His life is and what His work is about to do, because it seems to me that they strike at once the key-note of that which we want to understand. They let us enter into the full conception of that which the new life which is offered to man really is. There are two conceptions which come to every man when he is entering upon a new life, changing his present life to something that is different from the present life, and being a different sort of creature and living in a different sort of a way. The first way in which it presents itself to him--almost always at the beginning of every religion, perhaps--is in the way of restraint and imprisonment. Man thinks of every change that is to come to him as in the nature of denial of something that he is at the present doing and being, as the laying hold upon himself of some sort of restraint, bringing to him something which says: "I must not do the thing which I am doing. I must lay upon myself restraints, restrictions, commandments, and prohibitions. I must not let myself be the man that I am." You see how the Old Testament comes before the New Testament, the law ringing from the mountain top with the great denials, the great prohibitions, that come from the mouth of God. "Thou shalt not do this, that, or the other--Thou shalt not murder. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods." That is the first conception which comes to a man of the way in which he is to enter upon a new life, of the way in which the denial in his experience is to take effect. It is as if the hands were stretched out in order that fetters might be placed upon them. The man says, "Let some power come that is to hinder me from being this thing that I am." And the whole notion is the notion of imprisonment, restraint So it is with all civilization. It is perfectly possible for us to represent civilization as compared with barbarism, as accepted by mankind, as a great mass of restrictions and prohibitions that have been laid upon human life, so that the freedom of life has been cast aside, and man has entered into restricted, restrained, and imprisoned condition. So it is with every fulfilment of life. It is possible for a man always to represent it to himself as if it were the restriction, restraint, and prohibition of his life. The man passes onward into the fuller life which belongs to a man. He merges his selfishness into that richer life which is offered to human kind. He makes himself, instead of a single, selfish man, a man of family; and it is easy enough to consider that marriage and the family life bring immediately restraints and prohibitions. The man may not have the freedom which he used to have. So all development of education, in the first place, offers itself to man, or seems to offer itself to man, as prohibition and imprisonment and restraint. There is no doubt truth in such an idea. We never lose sight of it. No other richer and fuller idea which we come to by and by ever does away with the thought that man's advance means prohibition and self-denial, that in order that man shall become the greater thing he must cease to be the poorer and smaller thing he has been. But yet there is immediately a greater and fuller. When we hear those words of Jesus, we see immediately that not the idea of imprisonment but the idea of liberty, not the idea of restraint but that of setting free, is the idea which is really in His mind when he offers the fullest life to human kind. Have you often thought of how the whole Bible is a Book of Liberty, of how It rings with liberty from beginning to end, of how the great men are the men of liberty, of how the Old Testament, the great picture which forever shines, is the emancipator, leading forth out of imprisonment the people of God, who were to do the great work of God in the very much larger and freer life in which they were to live? The prophet, the psalmist, are ever preaching and singing about liberty, the enfranchisement of the life of man, that man was not imprisoned in order to fulfil himself, but shall open his life, and every new progress shall be into a new region of existence which lie has not touched as yet. When we turn from the Old Testament to the New Testament, how absolutely clear that idea is! Christ is the very embodiment of human liberty. In His own personal life and in everything that He did and said, He was forever uttering the great gospel that man, in order to become his completest, must become his freest, that what a man did when he entered into a new life was to open a new region in which new powers were to find their exercise, in which he was to be able to be and do things which he could not be and do in more restricted life. It is the acceptance of that idea, it seems to me, that makes us true disciples of Christ and of that great gospel, and that transfigures everything. When my friend turns over some new leaf, as we say, and begins to live a new life, what shall we think of him? I learn that he has become a Christian man, that he is doing something, that he is working in a way and living a life which I have not known before. What is my impression in regard to him? Is not your impression, as you look upon that man, that somehow or other he has entered into a slavery or bondage, that he has taken upon his life restrictions and imprisonments which he did not have before? And you think of him, perhaps, as a man who has done a wise and prudent thing, who has done something that is going to be for his benefit some day in some distant and half-realized world, but as a man who, for the present, has laid a burden and bondage upon his life. That is never the tone of Christ; it is never the tone of the Christian gospel. When a man turns away from his sins and enters into energetic holiness, when a man sacrifices his own self-indulgence and goes forth a pure servant of his God and his fellow-men, there is only one cry in the whole gospel of that man, and that is the cry of freedom. As soon as he can catch that, as soon as I can feel about my friend, who has become a better man, that he has become a larger and not a smaller, a freer and not a more imprisoned man, as soon as I lift up my voice and say that the man is free, then I understand him more fully, and he becomes a revelation to me in the higher and richer life which is possible for me to live. But think of it for yourselves, for a moment, and ask what freer life really is. Try to give a definition of liberty, and I know not what it can be said to be except something of this kind: Liberty is the fullest opportunity for man to be and do the very best that is possible for him. I know of no definition of liberty, that oldest and dearest phrase of men, and sometimes the vaguest also, except that. It has been perverted, it has been distorted and mystified, but that is what it really means: the fullest opportunity for a man to do and be the very best that is in his personal nature to do and to be. It immediately follows that everything which is necessary for the full realization of a man's life, even though it seems to have the character of restraint for a moment, is really a part of the process of his enfranchisement, is the bringing forth of him to a fuller liberty. You see a man coming forward and offering himself as one of the defenders of his country in his country's need. You see him standing at the door where men are being received as recruits into the army of the country. He wants liberty. He wants to be able to do that which he cannot do in his poor, personal isolation here at home. He wants the badge which will give him the right to go forth and meet the enemies of his country, and he enrolls himself among these men. He makes himself subject to obligations, duties, and drill. They are a part of his enfranchisement. They are really the breaking of the fetters upon his slavery, the sending him forth into freedom. He is like a bit of iron or steel that lies upon the ground. It lies neglected and perfectly free. You see it is made by the adjustment of the end of it so that it can be set into a great machine and become part of a great working system. But there it lies. Will you call it free? It is bound to be nothing there. It is absolutely separate, and with its own personality distinct and individual and all alone. What is to make that bit of iron a free bit of iron, to let it go forth and do the thing which it was meant to do, but the taking of it and the binding of it at both ends into the structure of which it was made to be a part? It seems to me the binding of a man,--it seems to me that the binding of the iron is not the yielding of its freedom. It is not merely after finding its place within the system that it first achieves its freedom and so joins in the music and partakes of the courses with which the whole enginery is filled. Is not it, then, for the first time a free bit of iron, having accomplished all that it was made to do when it came forth from the forge of the master, who had this purpose in his mind? This, then, is freedom; everything is part of the enfranchisement of a man which helps to put him in the place where he can live his best. Therefore every duty, every will of God, every commandment of Christ, every self-surrender that a man is called upon to obey or to make--do not think of it as if it were simply a restraint to liberty, but think of it as the very means of freedom, by which we realize the very purpose of God and the fulfilment of our life. It is interesting to see how all that is true in regard to the matter of belief, doctrine, and opinions which we are apt to accept. How strange it very often seems that men go to the Church, or to one another, and say: "Must I believe this doctrine in order that I can enter into the Church?" "Must I believe this doctrine in order that I may be saved?" men say, with a strange sort of notion about what salvation is. How strange it seems, when we really have got our intelligence about us and know what it is to believe! To believe a new truth, if it be really truth and we really believe it, is to have entered into a new region, in which our life shall find a new expansion and a new youth. Therefore, not "Must we believe?" but "May I believe?" is the true cry of the human creature who is seeking for the richest fulfilment of his life, who is working that his whole nature may find its complete expansion and so its completest exercise. We talk a great deal in these days and in this place about a liberal faith. What is a liberal faith, my friends? It seems to me that by every true meaning of the word, by every true thought of the idea, a liberal faith is a faith that believes much, and not a faith that believes little. The more a man believes, the more liberally he exercise his capacity of faith, the more he sends forth his intelligence into the mysteries of God, the more he understands those things which God chooses to reveal to his creatures, the more liberally he believes. Let yourselves never think that you grow liberal in faith by believing less; always be sure that the true liberality of faith can only come by believing more. It is true, indeed, that as soon as a man becomes eager for belief, for the truth of God and for the mysteries with which God's universe is filled, he becomes all the more critical and careful. He will hot any longer, if he were before, be simply greedy of things to believe, so that if any superstition comes offering itself to him he will not gather it in indiscriminately and believe it without evidence, without examination. He becomes all the more critical and careful, the more he becomes assured that belief, and not unbelief, is the true condition of his life. The truth that God has entered into this world in wondrous ways and filled its life with Jesus Christ, the truth that man has a soul and not simply a body, that he has a spiritual need, that God cares for him and he is to care for himself, that there is an immortal life, and that that which we call faith is but the opening of a gate, the pushing back of a veil,--shall a man believe those things as imprisonments of his nature, and shall it not make him larger? Shall it not be the indulgence of his life when he enters into the great certainties which so are offered to his belief, believing them in his own way? Let us always feel that to accept a new belief is no to build a wall beyond which we cannot pass, but is to open the door to a great fresh, free region, in which our souls are to live. And just so it is when we come to the moral things of life. The man puts aside some sinfulness. He breaks down the wall that has been shutting his soul out of its highest life. He has been a drunkard, and he becomes a sober man. He has been a cheat, and becomes a faithful man. He has been a liar, and becomes a truthful man. He has been a profligate, and he becomes a pure man. What has happened to that man? Shall he simply think of himself as one who has crushed this passion, shut down this part of his life? Shall he simply think of himself as one who has taken a course of self-denial? Nay. It is self-indulgence that a man has really entered upon. It is an indulgence of the deepest part of his own nature, not of his unreal nature. He has risen and shaken himself like a lion, so that the dust has fallen from his mane, and all the great range of that life which God gave him to live lies before him. This is the everlasting inspiration. This is the illumination. I don't wonder that men refuse to give up evil if it simply seems to them to be giving up the evil way, and no vision opens before them of the thing that they may be and do. I don't wonder that, if the negative, restricting, imprisoning conception of the new life is all that a man gets hold of, he lingers again and again in the old life. But just as soon as the great world opens before him then it is like a prisoner going out of the prison door. Is there no lingering? Does not the baser part of him cling to the old prison, to the ease and the provision for him, to the absence of anxiety and of energy? I think there can hardly be a prisoner who, with any leap of heart, goes out of the prison door, when his term is finished, and does not even look into that black horror where he has been living, cast some lingering, longing look behind. He comes to the exigencies, to the demands of life, to the necessity of making himself once more a true man among his fellow-men. But does he stop? He comes forth, and if there be the soul of a man in him still, he enters into the new life with enthusiasm, and finds the new powers springing in him to their work. And if it be so with every special duty, then with that great thing which you and I are called upon to do--the total acceptance by our nature of the will of God, the total acceptance by our nature of the mastery of Jesus Christ. Oh! how this world has perverted words and meanings, that the mastery of Jesus Christ should seem to be the imprisonment and not the enfranchisement of the soul! When I bring a flower out of the darkness and set it in the sun, and let the sunlight come streaming down upon it, and the flower knows the sunlight for which it was made and opens its fragrance and beauty; when I take a dark pebble and put it into the stream and let the silver water go coursing down over it and bringing forth the hidden color that was in the bit of stone, opening the nature that is in them, the flower and stone rejoice. I can almost hear them sing in the field and in the stream. What then? Shall not man bring his nature out into the fullest illumination, and surprise himself by the things that he might do? Oh! the littleness of the lives that we are living! Oh! the way in which we fail to comprehend, or when we do comprehend, deny to ourselves the bigness of that thing which it is to be a man, to be a child of God! Sometimes it dawns upon us that we can see it opening into the vision of these men and women in the New Testament. Sometimes there opens to us the picture of this thing that we might be, and then there are truly the trial moments of our life. Then we lift up ourselves and claim our liberty or, dastardly or cowardly, slink back into the sluggish imprisonment in which we have been living. How does all this affect that which we are continually conscious of, urging upon ourselves and upon one another? How does it affect the whole question of a man's sins? Oh! these sins, the things we know so well! As we sit here and stand here one entire hour, as we talk in this sort of way, everybody knows the weaknesses of his own nature, the sins of his own soul. Don't you know it? What shall we think about those sins? It seems to me, my friends, that all this great picture of the liberty into which Christ sets man, in the first place does one thing which we are longing to see done in the world. It takes away the glamour and the splendor from sin. It breaks that spell by which men think that the evil thing is the glorious thing. If the evil thing be that which Christ has told us that the evil thing is--which I have no time to tell you now--if every sin that you do is not simply a stain upon your soul, but is keeping you out from some great and splendid thing which you might do, then is there any sort of splendor and glory about sin? How about the sins that you did when you were young men? How can you look back upon those sins and think what your life might have been if it had been pure from the beginning, think what you might have been if from the very beginning you had caught sight of what it was to be a man? And then your boy comes along. What are the men in this town doing largely in many and many a house, but letting their boys believe that the sins of their early life are glorious things, except that those things which they did, the base and wretched things that they were doing when they were fifteen and twenty and twenty-five and thirty years old, are the true career of a human nature, are the true entrance into human life? The miserable talk about sowing wild oats, about getting through the necessary conditions of life before a man comes to solemnity! Shame upon any man who, having passed through the sinful conditions and habits and dispositions of his earlier life, has not carried out of them an absolute shame for them, that shall let him say to his boy, by word and by every utterance of his life within the house where he and the boy live together, "Refrain, for they are abominable things!" To get rid of the glamour of sin, to get rid of the idea that it is a glorious thing to be dissipated instead of being concentrated to duty, to get rid of the idea that to be drunken and to be lustful are true and noble expressions of our abounding human life, to get rid of any idea that sin is aught but imprisonment, is to make those who come after us, and to make ourselves in what of life is left for us, gloriously ambitious for the freedom of purity, for a full entrance into that life over which sin has no dominion. And yet, at the same time, don't you see that while sin thus becomes contemptible when we think about the great illustration of the will of God and Jesus Christ, don't you see how also it puts on a new horror? That which I thought I was doing in the halls of my imprisonment I have really been doing within the possible world of God in which I might have been free. The moment I see what life might have been to me, then any sin becomes dreadful to me. Have you ever thought of how the world has stood in glory and honor before the sinless humanity of Jesus Christ? If any life could prove, if any argument could show on investigation to-day that Jesus did one sin in all his life, that the perfect liberty which was his perfect purity was not absolutely perfect, do you realize what a horror would seem to fall down from the heavens, what a constraint and burden would be laid upon the lives of men, how the gates of men's possibilities would seem to close in upon them? It is because there has been that one life which, because absolutely pure from sin, was absolutely free; it is because man may look up and see in that life the revelation and possibility of his own; it is because that life, echoing the great cry throughout the world that man everywhere is the son of God, offers the same purity--and so the same freedom--to all mankind; it is for that reason that a man rejoices to cling to, to believe in, however impure his life is, the perfect purity, the sinlessness of the life of Jesus. When you sin, my friends, it is a man that sins, and a man is a child of God; and for a child of God to sin is an awful thing, not simply for the stain that he brings into the divine nature that is in him, but for the life from which it shuts him out, for the liberty which he abandons, for the inthrallment which it lays upon the soul. There is one thing that people say very carelessly that always seems to me to be a dreadful thing for a man to say. They say it when they talk about their lives to one another, and think about their lives to themselves, and by and by very often say it upon their death-bed with the last gasp, as though their entrance into the eternal world had brought them no deeper enlightenment. One wonders what is the revelation that comes to them when they stand upon the borders of the other side and are in the full life and eternity of God. The thing men say is, "I have done the very best I can." It is an awful thing for a man to say. The man never lived, save he who perfected our humanity, who ever did the very best he could. You dishonor your life, you not simply shut your eyes to certain facts, you not simply say an infinitely absurd and foolish thing, but you dishonor your human life if you say that you have done in any day of your life or in all the days of your life put together, the very best that you could, or been the very best man that you could be. You! what are you? Again I say, The child of God, and this which you have been, what is it? Look over it, see how selfish it has been, see how material it has been, how it has lived in the depths when it might have lived on the heights, see how it has lived in the little narrow range of selfishness when it might have been as broad as all humanity, nay, when it might have been as the God of humanity. Don't dare to say that in any day of your life, or in all your life together, you have done the best that you could. The Pharisee said it when he went up into the temple, and all the world has looked on with mingled pity and scorn at the blindness of the man who stood there and paraded his faithfulness; while all the world has bent with a pity that was near to love, a pity that was full of sympathy because man recognized his condition and experience, for the poor creature grovelling upon the pavement, unwilling and unable even to look upon the altar, but who, standing afar off, said, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" Whatever else you say, don't say, "I have been the very best I could." That means that you have not merely lived in the rooms of your imprisonment, but that you have been satisfied to count them the only possible rooms of your life, and that the great halls of your liberty have never opened themselves before you. Shall not they open themselves somehow to us to-day, my friends? Shall we not turn away from this hour and go back into our business, into our offices, into the shops, into the crowded streets, bearing new thoughts of the lives that we might live, feeling the fetters on our hands and feet, feeling many things as fetters which we have thought of as the ornament and glory of our life, determined to be unsatisfied forever until these fetters shall be stricken off and we have entered into the full liberty which comes to those alone who are dedicated to the service of God, to the completion of their own nature, to the acceptance of the grace of Christ, and to the attainment of the eternal glory of the spiritual life, first here and then hereafter, never hereafter, it may be, except here and now, certainly here and now, as the immediate, pressing privilege and duty of our lives? So let us stand up on our feet and know ourselves in all the richness and in all the awfulness of our human life. Let us know ourselves children of God, and claim the liberty which God has given to every one of his children who will take it. God bless you and give some of you, help some of us, to claim, as we have never claimed before, that freedom with which the Son makes free! V. THE CHRIST IN WHOM CHRISTIANS BELIEVE. I want to read to you again the words of Jesus in the eighth chapter of the Gospel of St. John: "Then said Jesus to those Jews which believed on Him, If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. They answered him, We be Abraham's seed, and were never in bondage to any man: how sayest thou, Ye shall be made free? Jesus answered them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin. And the servant abideth not in the house for ever: but the Son abideth ever. If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed." The service of God is not self-restraint, but self-indulgence. That is the first truth of all religion. That is the truth which we found uttered in those words of Jesus when we were thinking of them the other day. That is the truth to which we return as we come back again to think of those words and all that they mean and all that the speaker of them means to us and to our lives. When we remember that truth, when we recognize that no man is ever to be saved except by the fulfilment of his own nature, and not by the restraint of his nature, when we recognize that no man, no personal, individual man, is ever to be ransomed from his sins except by having opened to him a larger and fuller life into which he has entered, we seem to have displayed to us a large region, into which we are tempted to enter, and which is so rich and inviting to us that we immediately begin to ask ourselves if it is possible that there should be such a region. It is simply a great dream that we set before us. It is something that we imagine, something that comes out of the imaginations and anticipations of our own hearts, simply stimulated by the possibilities of the life in which we are living. It would be very much indeed, if it were only that. It would bear a certain testimony of itself, if it simply came out of the perpetual dissatisfaction of men's souls, even if there were no distinct manifestation of that life and no possibility of entering into it at once with our own personal consecration, with the resolution of our own wills. But if it were simply a dream, ultimately it must fade away out of the thoughts of men. It is impossible that men should keep on, year after year, age after age, this simple dream of something which does not exist. It would be like those pictures which the poet has drawn, something which appeals to nothing in our human nature and stands only as a parable of something that is a great deal lower than itself. The poet pictures to us in his imagination those things which do not appeal to our life, because they find nothing to correspond to their high portraits, to show those transformations of nature into something that is entirely different and foreign to itself. If religion be simply the dream that some men hold it to be, if it simply be the cheating of man's soul with that which has no reality to correspond to it, then it will be no more than this. Is there any assurance that is given to us, that is before the soul of man, of some great new life which it is given for man to seek, without which it is given for no man to be satisfied? I do not know where any man could find that assurance absolutely and entirely, unless there had stood forth before us the person of Him who spoke these words and who manifested them in His life. And therefore it is that, having pictured to you the richness of the life which is open to every man, his own true life, the large freedom into which he may go if, giving up his sins he enters into the fulness of the life of God, I cannot help now calling you to think about Him who gives, not merely by His words, but by the whole of His own person and life, that manifestation of the reality of the divine existence and tempts us to follow after Him. In other words, we come to-day to think of Christ, Christ who claims to be the master of the world, Christ from whom the revelation of that higher life has come, not in its first instance in the manifestation of the words which he spoke, for it had been the dream of human hearts through all the ages, but who made it so distinct and clear that ever since the time of Christ men have been able to cease to seek after it, men have never been able to give up the hope and dream that it was there. It is our Christ in whom we Christians believe. It is the Christ in whom a great many of you listening to me now claim to believe--I do myself--in whom many of you do believe, whom many of you have followed into that newer life. I would to God that I could so set Him before you to-day, could so make you feel his actual presence in the life which we are living, which we may be living, that there should be no question in any man of the power that is open before him to enter into the higher life and to fulfil his soul to God. What I want to do, in the few moments which I may speak to you this morning, is--laying aside all the theological conceptions regarding Him, laying aside everything that attaches to the complications and mysteries in which His nature has been involved in men's dreams of Him, laying aside everything which the churches are holding as the special doctrine of their especial creed--to go back to the very beginning and see if we can understand anything of what it is--this personal Christ, who lives here in the world and manifests the power of God and opens the possibility of every man. Surely it is good that we should know something about Him of whom we speak so much, that there should be some clear and directest conception of one whose name has been upon the lips of men for eighteen hundred years; and it is possible for us, in the simplest way, to understand how His power has come into the world and to see where it is possible that it should come and enrich our lives and make us different men. We go back, then, to the very beginning of the aspiration after God, which is in the heart of man everywhere. There has never been a race that has been without it. There has never been a generation that has not reached forward and thought there was a higher life, a fuller liberty, to which it could come. It has been in all the religions which have been not simply fears, but which have been the highest utterances of all the different races in all the different generations of mankind and all the different countries of the world; and there was one especial race in one especial part of the world in whom that aspiration was especially strong. We will not ask how it came to be there. There it was in this strange people living on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean Sea, and in all its history marked out by the strange peculiarity that it was a spiritual people, that in the midst of all its sins, blunders, and weaknesses it was forever lifting up its soul to God and striving to find Him out. Very often it blundered strangely and sadly. Very often it failed to get that for which it was seeking, by the very impetuousness, rashness, and earnestness of search. But it was always seeking after Him. And the years rolled by, and by and by in the midst of that great nation there was a little company of men who, accompanying one another from the beginning of their lives, had been searching after this God and trying everywhere if they could find Him. And one day they heard that down by the river which ran through their country, which was sacred to them from the multitude of old national associations, there was a great teacher come, who was declaring that for which the human soul was forever reaching after, the need of escaping from sin and entering upon and leading a higher life. This little company went down and met two disciples of John the Baptist, and learned from them everything that they had to teach them. Their souls were stirred by that which he had to say. But one day, while he was teaching them, it seemed as if they had come to an end of that which he could teach them. He looked up, and there upon the hill just above the river there was passing one upon whom the gaze of the fishermen by the river immediately kindled, and he lifted his hand and said, "He is the one who is to teach you now. You must go after him. Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." Great and mysterious words, that filled in that which men had believed in all the records they had read and the thinking they had done before! And they turned away from John and went after this new teacher and, following to His house, there they abode with Him during that day and the days that followed after. Little by little, as we read the story of their being with him, we can see them taken into His power, we can see how there was a certain fascination in His presence which laid hold upon them. It seemed at first to be purely human, to be the way in which one strong man takes possession of his fellow-man and compels him to rely upon him. It was upon purely human ground. It was in the manifestation of the excellence of this human nature of ours that they believed in Jesus and gradually became His disciples. Little by little it so commanded them that at last the moment came when it was impossible for them to separate themselves from Him; and one day, when the people were turning away from Him when He was preaching and saying things that it was hard for them to understand, He looked around upon them and said, "Are you going also, will you leave me now?" And then there burst forth from the lips of one of them, the most strong and characteristic act of the little company, those great words that declared how He had become necessary to them: "Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life." You see the power that Jesus had acquired over these men. You see the way in which He had taken them absolutely into His dominion, simply because of the manifestation of character and life, simply because He had shown them what man might be and opened the springs of the better life in themselves by the words He had spoken to them. And then they lived on with Him still, and by and by they had become so convinced by His truth and wisdom, His character had so taken possession of them, that they were ready to believe anything that He said. One day He lifted up His voice and declared that which had gradually been dawning upon them all the time, that He was more than they were, that He had brought in some mysterious way a divine life into this world and had much to communicate to them. He told them that He was the Father from whom His life and their life had come. He told them that He and the Father were one. He told them, not in theological statement, not as men have worked out since in their desire to know it fully, but in the simple statement of the truth that could be the inspiration of their life, that in His presence there was here the very presence of God among them. It was not strange to them, though human creatures, though men, that the highest aspiration of their humanity had never thought God so far from this world that it seemed to them strange that there should be in very human presence the divine life here with them. They could not explain it and did not try to explain it. Here it was, that which they had seen shadowed in the divinest men whom they had known, that which they had recognized. Here it was before them in this being who had won such a power over them that they were ready to accept His testimony with regard to Himself. Oh! my friends, let us not feel that the evidence of our Christian faith fails when it is seen to rest upon the word of Christ Himself. My neighbor knows more of himself than I know of him. I know more of myself than any man can know of me, if only I be earnest and sincere. And that the greatest of men who ever trod this earth should not know more of His nature than any other man should know, and that therefore His word should not be the richest revelation of that which is in His life and makes His power over mankind, that is incredible. Therefore the men were right when they believed Jesus' own word and looked to Him for the divinity which He said was present with Him upon the earth. Then His life went on, and by and by fulfilled itself in the one great action in which He declared those two things which He longed to know, the life and newness of God and the power of their human nature. He gave His life for them, indeed, in the awful suffering that preceded and that culminated upon the cross. He gave His life in crucifixion for them, and in that crucifixion opened the divinest doors of His life, when opening a sanctuary of sorrow; and He bade them enter in and know there the absolute life of God and the great capacity of human nature to sacrifice itself for God. And before He died, and afterward, He again appeared to them. He spoke great words which said that this was not the end of things, that after they had ceased to see Him and touch Him and hear His voice He still was to be present in the world. He said that the mysterious presence of those who had passed away, which all had known, was to culminate and be fulfilled in Him. "I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Wherever you "are together in my name, there am I." Words and words and words again like those He spoke, in which He declared that He was to be an everlasting presence among mankind, and therefore that which had taken place in the life of those disciples might forever take place; that that which Jesus had done in the days when He was present upon the earth should be continually repeated, in that He was forever to do that which He had been doing, giving Himself to human kind for their inspiration, for their elevation, for their correction, for their reproof, as He had been doing, their salvation, as He had been doing in those days in which He was here among them. Men have believed that simply. They have recognized that word of Christ, and found the fulfilment of it in their own lives; and that has been the Christian religion,--just exactly what it was in the old days when Jesus was present in Jerusalem and Galilee. Just exactly what men did then men have been doing in all the generations that have come since. Just exactly what was possible then is possible for them now--that we may become the followers of that same Christ and the receivers through Him of the divine life, by which alone the human life is perfected and fulfilled. That is the Christian religion. That is the Christian faith. Is it not clear and simple, whether it be true or not? My friends, you may believe it or you may disbelieve it, but the Christian faith is clear and simple enough surely in this statement, stripped of a thousand difficulties, perplexities, and bewilderments. That is it, that there is in the world to-day the same Christ who was in the world eighteen hundred and more years ago, and that men may go to Him and receive His life and the inspiration of His presence and the guidance of His wisdom just exactly as they did then. If you and I had been in Jerusalem in those old days, what would we have done, if we were more than mere creatures of others, more than men merely absorbed in our business, if there were any stirring in our souls after the deeper and diviner desires, could we, would we have been satisfied until we had gone wherever He might be,--in the temple, in the courts, or on the country road,--and found that Jesus, and entered into some sympathy with His life, that He might give to us what revelation of life and what guidance of will it might be possible should come from Him to men who trusted Him, until we had entered into sympathy with Him and the fascinations of His character? That is the Christian life, my friends, the thing we make so vague and mysterious and difficult. That is the Christian life, the following of Jesus Christ. What is the Christian? Everywhere the man who, so far as he comprehends Jesus Christ, so far as he can get any knowledge of Him, is His servant, the man who makes Christ a teacher of his intelligence and the guide of his soul, the man who obeys Christ as far as he has been able to understand Him. What, you say, the man who imperfectly understands Christ, who don't know anything about His divinity, who denies the great doctrines of the Church in regard to Him, is he a Christian? Certainly he is, my friends. There is no other test than this, the following of Jesus Christ. So far as any soul deeply consecrated to Him, and wanting the influence that it feels that He has to give, follows Christ, enters into His obedience and His company, and receives His blessings, just so far He is able to bestow it. I cannot sympathize with any feeling that desires to make the name of Christian a narrower name. I would spread it just as wide as it can be possibly made to spread. I would know any man as a Christian, rejoice to know any man as a Christian, whom Jesus would recognize as a Christian, and Jesus Christ, I am sure, in those old days recognized His followers even if they came after Him with the blindest sight, with the most imperfect recognition and acknowledgment of what He was and of what He could do. And then, again, is it not very strange, certainly, that there should be, in these later days, in all these centuries that have passed between the day of Jesus Christ and us, that there should have come a vast accumulation of speculation and conjecture, of theorizing and thought with regard to Christ and what He was, and that a great deal of it should have been very strange and should seem to us to-day to have been very silly, a great part of it should have seemed to be but a work of intelligences that were half dulled and blinded, full of prejudice, and shrinking from the error and the danger in which they stood? What does it mean--all these complicated theologies that we say are keeping us away from the simple following of the grandest figure that has ever presented Himself before human kind? I know not how else it can be when I see what has been the power of Jesus over thoughts and homes and hearts of men through all these years. It seems to be a previous necessity that He who most fastens the heart and life of man, who seems to be most necessary to the soul of men, shall so attract their thought, shall so draw them all to Himself that their crudest speculations, that their most erroneous conceptions, shall fasten upon him, and they shall be in some true way a testimony of the way in which He has always held the human heart. This is the way in which all crudities of theology, all the weaknesses of speculation, all even of the most strange and foul thoughts in regard to the life of Jesus and His manifestation in the world, have accumulated around that gracious figure, so simple and strong, which walks through our human life and manifests to us the God. Surely it is in one conception of it, and the true conception of it, the great perpetual testimony of how men have cared about Jesus, that they have speculated about Him in such strange perplexing ways. But He about whom the world does not care walks through the world and bears His simple being. There is nothing that fastens upon Him, that perplexes His life, that makes mysterious and strange the life He lives. But where is the great man in all the history of human kind that has not gathered about his person and work the speculations of those whom we find, with their crude and unguided minds, have formed their theories in regard to Him? It is the very abundance of the strange speculations with regard to Christ, it is the very strangeness of the theories that have been formed with regard to Him, that has shown me how He has drawn the hearts of men, how He has not let them go, but compelled them to fasten themselves to Him, to think about Him and try to follow Him in such poor, blind ways as they were able to give themselves to Him in. This, then, is the Christian faith. This is the way in which the larger life opens before mankind, by the following of a person, by the giving of the life into the dominion and the guidance and the obedience of one who goes forward into that life, himself thoroughly believing in it--for Jesus believed in it with all His human soul. But then, we ask ourselves, is it possible that we can gather from such a life as Jesus lived so long ago, a life that was lived back in the very dust of history and that has come down to us in records which seem sometimes to be flecked with tradition and obscured with the distance in which they lived, is it possible that I should get from him a guidance of my daily life here? Am I, a man of the nineteenth century, when everything has changed, in Boston, in this modern civilization,--can Jesus really be my teacher, my guide, in the actual duties and perplexities of my daily life and lead me into the larger land in which I know he lives? Ah! the man knows very little about the everlasting identity of human nature, little of how the world in all these changeless ages is the same, who asks that; very little, also, of how in every largest truth there are all particulars and details of human life involved; little of how everything that a man is to-day, upon every moment, rests upon some eternal foundation and may be within the power of some everlasting law. The wonder of the life of Jesus is this--and you will find it so and you have found it so if you have ever taken your New Testament and tried to make it the rule of your daily life--that there is not a single action that you are called upon to do of which you need be, of which you will be, in any serious doubt for ten minutes as to what Jesus Christ, if He were here, Jesus Christ being here, would have you do under those circumstances and with the material upon which you are called to act. Men have tried to go back and imitate the very activities of the life of Jesus Christ, to do the very things that He did. Souls have fled across the sea and tried upon the hills and in the plains where Jesus lived to reproduce the life that has so fascinated them. They were poor and unphilosophic souls. The soul that takes in Jesus' word, the soul that through the words of Jesus enters into the very person of Jesus, the soul that knows Him as its daily presence and its daily law--it never hesitates. Do I doubt--I, who see myself called upon to be the slave of these conditions which are around me--to do this thing? Because it is the custom of the business in which I am engaged, do I doubt fora moment if I turn aside and open this New Testament, which is Jesus' law with regard to that thing? I, with my passion boiling in my veins, leading me to do some foul act of outrageous lust, have I a single moment's doubt what Jesus would have me do if He were here--what Jesus, being here, really wants me to do? There is no single act of your life, my friend, there is no single dilemma in which you find yourself placed, in which the answer is not in Jesus Christ. I do not say that you will find some words in Jesus' teachings in the Gospel of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John that will detail exactly the condition in which you find yourself placed; but I do say that if, with your human sympathies and your devoted love, you can feel the presence of that Jesus behind the words that He said, the personal perfectness, the divine life manifested in the human life, there is not a single sin or temptation to sin that will not be convicted. There is where we rest when we claim that Jesus Christ is the master of the world, that He opens the great richness and infinite distances of the human life, that He shows us what it is to be men. It would be little if He did that simply with the painting of some glorious vision upon the skies beyond; but that He comes into your life and mine, into our homes and our shops, into our offices and on our streets, and there makes known in the actual circumstances of our daily life what we ought to do and what we ought not to do--that is the wonder of his revelation; that is what proclaims him to be the Son of God and the Son of man. Think, as you sit here, of anything that you are doing that is wrong, of any habit of your life, of your self-indulgence, or of that great, pervasive habit of your life which makes you a creature of the present instead of the eternities, a creature of the material earth instead of the glorious skies. Ask of yourself of any habit that belongs to your own personal life, and bring it face to face with Jesus Christ and see if it is not judged. A judgment day that is far away, that is off in the dim distance when this world is done--it shall come, no doubt. I know none of us can know much with regard to it, except that it is sure. But the judgment day that is here now is Christ; the judgment day that is right close to your life and rebukes you, if you will let Him rebuke you every time you sin, the judgment day that is here and praises you and bids you be of good courage, when you do a thing that men disown and despise, is Christ. Therefore it is no figure of speech, it is no mere ecstasy of the imagination of the preacher, when we say that in the midst of these streets of ours, more real than the men that walk in them, more real than the sidewalks that are under our feet, and the buildings that tower over us, there walks an unseen presence. An unseen presence? Yes. Are you and I going to be such creatures of our senses that we shall not believe that there are powers that touch us that we cannot see? Am I going to be so bound down to these poor fingers and to these poor eyes that I shall know myself in no larger connection with the great, unseen world? I will not. No great man, no manly man, has ever allowed such a limitation of himself. There is the unseen presence in the midst of our life, and he who will feel it may feel it, and that unseen presence speaks to him continually. It knows every one of us. It knows the rich man and knows what his wealth has made of him. It knows whether it has made him selfish. Shall I say it? He, the Christ, the present Christ, knows whether the rich man's riches have made him selfish and base and mean, covetous and poor and little-souled, or whether he has been glad to rise to the greatness of his privilege, and be the very utterance of the beneficence of God upon the earth. He knows the poor man and his struggles, he knows the poor man and his self-respect. He speaks to the poor man's soul, who has been kept poor because he will not enter into the baser methods and motives of our modern life, and is despised, and says to him, "Be of good courage, for I know what you are." He speaks to the poor in distress and poverty. He speaks to the wretched in their disappointment and their pain. He is their comforter. He knows every sin. He knows every sorrow of our life. He goes, unseen on earth, into the chambers where the dead lie dead, and where the sick lie dying, and He speaks His words of consolation, He opens up the glory of the perfect life. He lays his hand upon the mourner whose soul is bowed down to the earth and says, "Look up," and points into eternity and heaven. All these things Christ can do not merely, but Christ is doing. He is the inspiring power of this life, that keeps it from rotting in its corruption and degradation. We dwell too much, I think, upon some of these things; we cannot dwell too much, perhaps, but we dwell out of proportion, it may be, to the thought of Jesus Christ, the comforter of sorrow. He is the comforter of sorrow, for he knew and he knows what sorrow is. In His own crucifixion, in that which came before His crucifixion, He knew the suffering of this earthly life. There is no human being who ever has known the misery of man as Jesus knows it, and so He comes to all sorrows with tender consolation. God grant, God grant He may come to any of you who have come into these doors to-day with a sorrow, with a fear, with a dread upon your hearts, with souls that are wrung, with bodies that are suffering! God grant that the Christ may comfort you, may comfort you! But not only that. Shall there be no Christ for those who for the moment seem to need no comfort? Shall there be no Christ for the strong men who have before them the duties of their life, and who want the strength with which to do them? Shall there be no Christ for the young men, the young men standing in danger, but also standing in such magnificent and splendid chances? It is great to think of Christ standing by the sorrowing and comforting them. It is great,--we will not say it is greater,--it is very great, when by the side of the young man just entering into life there stands the Christ, saying to his soul, with the voice that he cannot fail to hear: "Be pure, be strong, be wise, be independent; rejoice in Me and My appreciation. Let the world go, if it is necessary that the world should go. Serve the world, but do not be the servant of the world. Make the world your servant by helping the world in every way in which you can minister to its life. Be brave, be strong, be manly by My strength." Oh! young man, if you can hear the Christ speak to you like that behind all the traditions of the street, behind the teachings of the books, behind all that the wise and successful men say to you, behind all the cynics and sneerers say to you, the great, strong, healthy voice of Jesus Christ, who believes in man because He has known man filled with divinity, and believes in you because He knows that which has been set before you by your Father in the sending out of your life, and who longs and prays and waits to strengthen you, that you may do your work, that you may escape from sin, that you may live your life, this great figure of the present Christ that Christianity can produce--it is not the memory of something that is away back in the past, it is not the anticipation of something to come in the future. We talk about Christ the Saviour, and think about Calvary long ago. We talk about the Christ the Judge, and think of a great white throne set in some mystic valley of Jehoshaphat, where some day the world is to be judged. We do not so get hold of Christ. The Christ who is in the past is not our Christ unless His power holds forth, the power of His spirit, which is the whole knowledge of the life in which we live. We think of the Christ of the future, for whom all the world is waiting. He will never enter into us and lead us unless we know that He is here and now. It does seem to me sometimes that if men would only take religion as a real and present thing, and if, instead of worshipping it in the past and expecting it with fear and dread and vain hope in the future, it could be a real thing with them here and now, something in which they are to live, not to which they are to flee in moments of doubt, not of which they should make rescue, but in which they should do all their work and live, then religion would be to the soul of man so that it could not be cast aside, so that they must enter into it and take it into themselves and make it their own. Religion is not the simple fire-escape that you build, in anticipation of a possible danger, upon the outside of your dwelling and leave there until danger comes. You go to it some morning when a fire breaks out in your house, and the poor old thing that you built up there, and thought you could use some day, is so rusty and broken, and the weather has so beaten upon it, and the sun so turned its hinges, that it will not work. That is the condition of a man who has built himself what seems to be a creed of faith, a trust in God in anticipation of the day when danger is to overtake him, and has said to himself, I am safe, for I will take refuge in it then. But religion is the house in which we live, it is the table at which we sit, it is the fireside to which we draw near, the room that arches its graceful and familiar presence over us; it is the bed on which we lie and think of the past and anticipate the future and gather our refreshment. There is no Christ except the present Christ for every man, unto whom all the power of the historic Christ is always appearing, and who is great with all the sweet solemnity that comes from the knowledge of what in the future He is to be to the world and to the soul. I am anxious to-day to impress this upon you: that the Christian faith is not a dogma, it is not primarily a law, but is a personal presence and an immediate life that is right here and now. I am anxious to have you know that to be a Christian does not mean primarily to believe this or that. It does not mean primarily, although it means necessarily afterward, to do this or that. But it means to know the presence of a true personal Christ among us and to follow. Here is the only true power by which a religion can become perpetual. Men outgrow many dogmas which they hold. The lines in which they try to live change their application to their lives. But I know a person with a deep, true life; I enter into a friendship with one who is worthy I should be his friend, and he is mine always. What is the meaning of this sort of talk that we hear about a faith that they held once, but they have outgrown? What is the reason of this expectation that seems to have spread itself abroad, of necessity that the boy who had a religion should lose his religion some time or other, and that by and by he should take up a man's religion somewhere upon the other side of the gulf of infidelity and godlessness, through which he has passed in the mean while? You expect your boy of ten years old to be religious with a child's sweet, trusting faith; and you hope that your man of forty and fifty, beaten by the world, is to have found a God who can be his salvation. But the years between? What do you think of your young men of fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, and thirty years old? To have outgrown the boy's faith, and not to have come to the man's faith? That seems almost to be an awful fate and destiny which you expect for them. But if our faith be this, then there shall be no need, no chance that a man shall outgrow it. Know Christ with the first conceptions, imperfect and crude, of his boy's life, and he shall go on knowing more and more of that Christ. That friend, the Christ he knows at twenty-five, shall be different from the Christ he knew at ten, just exactly as the friend I know at fifty is different from the friend I knew at thirty, twenty years ago; and yet He is the same friend still, forever opening the richness of an ever richer life, filling it with new experiences, with new manifestations of Himself. Let him drop something which seemed to him to be a part of the religion, but was only a temporary phase or condition of it, going forward with the soul all through the opening stages of life, and at last going forward with the soul into the life where it shall see as all along it has been seen, and know as it has been known. The old legend was that the clothes of the Israelites, which the Bible said waxed not old upon them in the desert during those forty years, not merely waxed not old those forty years, but grew with their growth, so that the little Hebrew who crossed the Red Sea in his boy's clothes wore the same clothes when he entered into the Promised Land. It is the parable of that which comes to the man who has a true Christian faith, a faith which comes in the personal friendship of Christ, a faith which comes not in the belief of certain things about Him, not in the doing slavishly of certain things which it seemed as if it had been said by Him that we must do, but in the personal entrance into His nature in a life for Him, in which He is able to send His life down into us. Then there is another thing that people are always thinking, that I hear very often from men, and that I have no doubt that I should hear from many of you, one by one. You talk about your earlier religion as if it had been some sort of a bondage from which you had escaped. How common it is to hear men, especially in this region, say: "I would be, perhaps, religious, except that there was so much religion forced upon me in my earliest days. I was driven to church when I was a boy, in those old Puritan days. I went to school, where they forced prayers upon me all the time. I was made to be religious, so now I cannot be religious." Was there ever a more dreadful thing than for a soul to say that, because, it may be, of the unwisdom, or the imprudence, the overzeal and the mistaken zeal of other men, we have not got the full blessing of that rich, open, free life with Christ which the youth may have, and therefore we will abandon the privileges of our higher life which is given to us in our manlier years? It all comes of this awful way of talking as if religion were the duty and not the inestimable privilege of human kind. The Christ stands before us and says, "Come to me." You say, "Must I?" And He answers, "You may." He will not even say, "You must." You may. And duty loses itself in privilege, and the soul enters into independence and escapes from its sins, fulfils its life, lays hold of its salvation, becomes eternal, begins to live an eternal life in the accepted and loving service of Christ. Now just one word, my friends. If this be so, whether you to-day are ready to make Christ your master and your friend or not, do not, I beg you, let yourself say that it is a silly or unreasonable belief, thus to know of a spiritual presence which is here among us, in which God is really in humanity. Do not let yourselves say, my friends, that the man who gives himself to Jesus Christ and earnestly tries to enter in deeper and deeper into his life and tries to do his will, that he may know the Christ and know himself in the Christ more and more--dare not call that brother a fool, as you have sometimes called your Christian man who watched scrupulously over his life and prayed, yes, prayed, the thing you think perhaps the foolishest thing that man can do, the thing that is the most reasonable act that any man does upon God's earth. If man is man and God is God, to live without prayer is not merely an awful thing: it is an infinitely foolish thing. When a man for the first time bows down upon his knees and prays, "Oh! Christ, come unto me, reveal Thyself to me, make me to know Thee, that I may receive Thee, make me to be obedient that I may take Thee into my life," then that man has claimed his manhood. I beg you, I implore you, I adjure you that, if you be not ready to be Christian, you at least will know that the Christian life is the only true human life, and that the man who becomes thoroughly a Christian sets his face toward the fulfilment of his humanity, and so for the first time truly is a man. "As many as received Him,"--so the great Scripture word runs of this Christ of whom we have been talking,--"As many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God." Just think of it!--the sons of God! The power to become that to as many as will receive the present Christ. VI. ABRAHAM LINCOLN.[1] "He chose David also His servant, and took him away from the sheepfolds; that he might feed Jacob His people, and Israel His inheritance. So he fed them with a faithful and true heart, and ruled them prudently with all his power."--PSALM lxxviii. 71, 72, 73. While I speak to you to-day, the body of the President who ruled this people, is lying, honored and loved, in our city. It is impossible with that sacred presence in our midst for me to stand and speak of ordinary topics which occupy the pulpit. I must speak of him to-day; and I therefore undertake to do what I had intended to do at some future time, to invite you to study with me the character of Abraham Lincoln, the impulses of his life and the causes of his death. I know how hard it is to do it rightly, how impossible it is to do it worthily. But I shall speak with confidence, because I speak to those who love him, and whose ready love will fill out the deficiencies in a picture which my words will weakly try to draw. We take it for granted, first of all, that there is an essential connection between Mr. Lincoln's character and his violent and bloody death. It is no accident, no arbitrary decree of Providence. He lived as he did, and he died as he did, because he was what he was. The more we see of events, the less we come to believe in any fate or destiny except the destiny of character. It will be our duty, then, to see what there was in the character of our great President that created the history of his life, and at last produced the catastrophe of his cruel death. After the first trembling horror, the first outburst of indignant sorrow, has grown calm, these are the questions which we are bound to ask and answer. It is not necessary for me even to sketch the biography of Mr. Lincoln. He was born in Kentucky fifty-six years ago, when Kentucky was a pioneer State. He lived, as boy and man, the hard and needy life of a backwoodsman, a farmer, a river boatman, and, finally, by his own efforts at self-education, of an active, respected, influential citizen, in the half-organized and manifold interests of a new and energetic community. From his boyhood up he lived in direct and vigorous contact with men and things, not as in older States and easier conditions with words and theories; and both his moral convictions and his intellectual pinions gathered from that contact a supreme degree of that character by which men knew him, that character which is the most distinctive possession of the best American nature, that almost indescribable quality which we call in general clearness or truth, and which appears in the physical structure as health, in the moral constitution as honesty, in the mental structure as sagacity, and in the region of active life as practicalness. This one character, with many sides, all shaped by the same essential force and testifying to the same inner influences, was what was powerful in him and decreed for him the life he was to live and the death he was to die. We must take no smaller view than this of what he was. Even his physical conditions are not to be forgotten in making up his character. We make too little always of the physical; certainly we make too little of it here if we lose out of sight the strength and muscular activity, the power of doing and enduring, which the backwoods-boy inherited from generations of hard-living ancestors, and appropriated for his own by a long discipline of bodily toil. He brought to the solution of the question of labor in this country not merely a mind, but a body thoroughly in sympathy with labor, full of the culture of labor, bearing witness to the dignity and excellence of work in every muscle that work had toughened and every sense that work had made clear and true. He could not have brought the mind for his task so perfectly, unless he had first brought the body whose rugged and stubborn health was always contradicting to him the false theories of labor, and always asserting the true. As to the moral and mental powers which distinguished him, all embraceable under this general description of clearness of truth, the most remarkable thing is the way in which they blend with one another, so that it is next to impossible to examine them in separation. A great many people have discussed very crudely whether Abraham Lincoln was an intellectual man or not; as if intellect were a thing always of the same sort, which you could precipitate from the other constituents of a man's nature and weigh by itself, and compare by pounds and ounces in this man with another. The fact is, that in all the simplest characters that line between the mental and moral natures is always vague and indistinct. They run together, and in their best combinations you are unable to discriminate, in the wisdom which is their result, how much is moral and how much is intellectual. You are unable to tell whether in the wise acts and words which issue from such a life there is more of the righteousness that comes of a clear conscience, or of the sagacity that comes of a clear brain. In more complex characters and under more complex conditions, the moral and the mental lives come to be less healthily combined. They co-operate, they help each other less. They come even to stand over against each other as antagonists; till we have that vague but most melancholy notion which pervades the life of all elaborate civilization, that goodness and greatness, as we call them, are not to be looked for together, till we expect to see and so do see a feeble and narrow conscientiousness on the one hand, and a bad, unprincipled intelligence on the other, dividing the suffrages of men. It is the great boon of such characters as Mr. Lincoln's, that they reunite what God has joined together and man has put asunder. In him was vindicated the greatness of real goodness and the goodness of real greatness. The twain were one flesh. Not one of all the multitudes who stood and looked up to him for direction with such a loving and implicit trust can tell you to-day whether the wise judgments that he gave came most from a strong head or a sound heart. If you ask them, they are puzzled. There are men as good as he, but they do bad things. There are men as intelligent as he, but they do foolish things. In him goodness and intelligence combined and made their best result of wisdom. For perfect truth consists not merely in the right constituents of character, but in their right and intimate conjunction. This union of the mental and moral into a life of admirable simplicity is what we most admire in children; but in them it is unsettled and unpractical. But when it is preserved into manhood, deepened into reliability and maturity, it is that glorified childlikeness, that high and reverend simplicity, which shames and baffles the most accomplished astuteness, and is chosen by God to fill his purposes when he needs a ruler for his people, of faithful and true heart, such as he had who was our President. Another evident quality of such a character as this will be its freshness or newness; if we may so speak. Its freshness or readiness--call it what you will--its ability to take up new duties and do them in a new way, will result of necessity from its truth and clearness. The simple natures and forces will always be the most pliant ones. Water bends and shapes itself to any channel. Air folds and adapts itself to each new figure. They are the simplest and the most infinitely active things in nature. So this nature, in very virtue of its simplicity, must be also free, always fitting itself to each new need. It will always start from the most fundamental and eternal conditions, and work in the straightest even although they be the newest ways, to the present prescribed purpose. In one word, it must be broad and independent and radical. So that freedom and radicalness in the character of Abraham Lincoln were not separate qualities, but the necessary results of his simplicity and childlikeness and truth. Here then we have some conception of the man. Out of this character came the life which we admire and the death which we lament to-day. He was called in that character to that life and death. It was just the nature, as you see, which a new nation such as ours ought to produce. All the conditions of his birth, his youth, his manhood, which made him what he was, were not irregular and exceptional, but were the normal conditions of a new and simple country. His pioneer home in Indiana was a type of the pioneer land in which he lived. If ever there was a man who was a part of the time and country he lived in, this was he. The same simple respect for labor won in the school of work and incorporated into blood and muscle; the same unassuming loyalty to the simple virtues of temperance and industry and integrity; the same sagacious judgment which had learned to be quick-eyed and quick-brained in the constant presence of emergency; the same direct and clear thought about things, social, political, and religious, that was in him supremely, was in the people he was sent to rule. Surely, with such a type-man for ruler, there would seem to be but a smooth and even road over which he might lead the people whose character he represented into the new region of national happiness and comfort and usefulness, for which that character had been designed. But then we come to the beginning of all trouble. Abraham Lincoln was the type-man of the country, but not of the whole country. This character which we have been trying to describe was the character of an American under the discipline of freedom. There was another American character which had been developed under the influence of slavery. There was no one American character embracing the land. There were two characters, with impulses of irrepressible and deadly conflict. This citizen whom we have been honoring and praising represented one. The whole great scheme with which he was ultimately brought in conflict, and which has finally killed him, represented the other. Beside this nature, true and fresh and new, there was another nature, false and effete and old. The one nature found itself in a new world, and set itself to discover the new ways for the new duties that were given it. The other nature, full of the false pride of blood, set itself to reproduce in a new world the institutions and the spirit of the old, to build anew the structure of the feudalism which had been corrupt in its own day, and which had been left far behind by the advancing conscience and needs of the progressing race. The one nature magnified labor, the other nature depreciated and despised it. The one honored the laborer, and the other scorned him. The one was simple and direct; the other, complex, full of sophistries and self-excuses. The one was free to look all that claimed to be truth in the face, and separate the error from the truth that might be in it; the other did not dare to investigate, because its own established prides and systems were dearer to it than the truth itself, and so even truth went about in it doing the work of error. The one was ready to state broad principles, of the brotherhood of man, the universal fatherhood and justice of God, however imperfectly it might realize them in practice; the other denied even the principles, and so dug deep and laid below its special sins the broad foundation of a consistent, acknowledged sinfulness. In a word, one nature was full of the influences of Freedom, the other nature was full of the influences of Slavery. In general, these two regions of our national life were separated by a geographical boundary. One was the spirit of the North, the other was the spirit of the South. But the Southern nature was by no means all a Southern thing. There it had an organized, established form, a certain definite, established institution about which it clustered. Here, lacking advantage, it lived in less expressive ways and so lived more weakly. There, there was the horrible sacrament of slavery, the outward and visible sign round which the inward and spiritual temper gathered and kept itself alive. But who doubts that among us the spirit of slavery lived and thrived? Its formal existence had been swept away from one State after another, partly on conscientious, partly on economical grounds, but its spirit was here, in every sympathy that Northern winds carried to the listening ear of the Southern slave-holder, and in every oppression of the weak by the strong, every proud assumption of idleness over labor which echoed the music of Southern life back to us. Here in our midst lived that worse and falser nature, side by side with the true and better nature which God meant should be the nature of Americans, of which he was shaping out the type and champion in his chosen David of the sheepfold. Here then we have the two. The history of our country for many years is the history of how these two elements of American life approached collision. They wrought their separate reactions on each other. Men debate and quarrel even now about the rise of Northern Abolitionism, about whether the Northern Abolitionists were right or wrong, whether they did harm or good. How vain the quarrel is! It was inevitable. It was inevitable in the nature of things that two such natures living here together should be set violently against each other. It is inevitable, till man be far more unfeeling and untrue to his convictions than he has always been, that a great wrong asserting itself vehemently should arouse to no less vehement assertion the opposing right. The only wonder is that there was not more of it. The only wonder is that so few were swept away to take by an impulse they could not resist their stand of hatred to the wicked institution. The only wonder is, that only one brave, reckless man came forth to cast himself, almost single-handed, with a hopeless hope, against the proud power that he hated, and trust to the influence of a soul marching on into the history of his countrymen to stir them to a vindication of the truth he loved. At any rate, whether the Abolitionists were wrong or right, there grew up about their violence, as there always will about the extremism of extreme reformers, a great mass of feeling, catching their spirit and asserting it firmly, though in more moderate degrees and methods. About the nucleus of Abolitionism grew up a great American Anti-Slavery determination, which at last gathered strength enough to take its stand to insist upon the checking and limiting the extension of the power of slavery, and to put the type-man, whom God had been preparing for the task, before the world, to do the work on which it had resolved. Then came discontent, secession, treason. The two American natures, long advancing to encounter, met at last, and a whole country, yet trembling with the shock, bears witness how terrible the meeting was. Thus I have tried briefly to trace out the gradual course by which God brought the character which He designed to be the controlling character of this new world into distinct collision with the hostile character which it was to destroy and absorb, and set it in the person of its type-man in the seat of highest power. The character formed under the discipline of Freedom and the character formed under the discipline of Slavery developed all their difference and met in hostile conflict when this war began. Notice, it was not only in what he did and was towards the slave, it was in all he did and was everywhere that we accept Mr. Lincoln's character as the true result of our free life and institutions. Nowhere else could have come forth that genuine love of the people, which in him no one could suspect of being either the cheap flattery of the demagogue or the abstract philanthropy of the philosopher, which made our President, while he lived, the centre of a great household land, and when he died so cruelly, made every humblest household thrill with a sense of personal bereavement which the death of rulers is not apt to bring. Nowhere else than out of the life of freedom could have come that personal unselfishness and generosity which made so gracious a part of this good man's character. How many soldiers feel yet the pressure of a strong hand that clasped theirs once as they lay sick and weak in the dreary hospital! How many ears will never lose the thrill of some kind word he spoke--he who could speak so kindly to promise a kindness that always matched his word! How often he surprised the land with a clemency which made even those who questioned his policy love him the more for what they called his weakness,--seeing how the man in whom God had most embodied the discipline of Freedom not only could not be a slave, but could not be a tyrant! In the heartiness of his mirth and his enjoyment of simple joys; in the directness and shrewdness of perception which constituted his wit; in the untired, undiscouraged faith in human nature which he always kept; and perhaps above all in the plainness and quiet, unostentatious earnestness and independence of his religious life, in his humble love and trust of God--in all, it was a character such as only Freedom knows how to make. Now it was in this character, rather than in any mere political position, that the fitness of Mr. Lincoln to stand forth in the struggle of the two American natures really lay. We are told that he did not come to the Presidential chair pledged to the abolition of Slavery. When will we learn that with all true men it is not what they intend to do, but it is what the qualities of their natures bind them to do, that determines their career! The President came to his power full of the blood, strong in the strength of Freedom. He came there free, and hating slavery. He came there, leaving on record words like these spoken three years before and never contradicted. He had said, "A house divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this Government cannot endure permanently, half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved; I do not expect the house to fall; but I expect it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing or all the other." When the question came, he knew which thing he meant that it should be. His whole nature settled that question for him. Such a man must always live as he used to say he lived (and was blamed for saying it) "controlled by events, not controlling them." And with a reverent and clear mind, to be controlled by events means to be controlled by God. For such a man there was no hesitation when God brought him up face to face with Slavery and put the sword into his hand and said, "Strike it down dead." He was a willing servant then. If ever the face of a man writing solemn words glowed with a solemn joy, it must have been the face of Abraham Lincoln, as he bent over the page where the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863 was growing into shape, and giving manhood and freedom as he wrote it to hundreds of thousands of his fellow-men. Here was a work in which his whole nature could rejoice. Here was an act that crowned the whole culture of his life. All the past, the free boyhood in the woods, the free youth upon the farm, the free manhood in the honorable citizen's employments--all his freedom gathered and completed itself in this. And as the swarthy multitudes came in, ragged, and tired, and hungry, and ignorant, but free forever from anything but the memorial scars of the fetters and the whip, singing rude songs in which the new triumph of freedom struggled and heaved below the sad melody that had been shaped for bondage; as in their camps and hovels there grew up to their half-superstitious eyes the image of a great Father almost more than man, to whom they owed their freedom,--were they not half right? For it was not to one man, driven by stress of policy, or swept off by a whim of pity, that the noble act was due. It was to the American nature, long kept by God in his own intentions till his time should come, at last emerging into sight and power, and bound up and embodied in this best and most American of all Americans, to whom we and those poor frightened slaves at last might look up together and love to call him, with one voice, our Father. Thus, we have seen something of what the character of Mr. Lincoln was, and how it issued in the life he lived. It remains for us to see how it resulted also in the terrible death which has laid his murdered body here in our town among lamenting multitudes to-day. It is not a hard question, though it is sad to answer. We saw the two natures, the nature of Slavery and the nature of Freedom, at last set against each other, come at last to open war. Both fought, fought long, fought bravely; but each, as was perfectly natural, fought with the tools and in the ways which its own character had made familiar to it. The character of Slavery was brutal, barbarous, and treacherous; and so the whole history of the slave power during the war has been full of ways of warfare brutal, barbarous, and treacherous, beyond anything that men bred in freedom could have been driven to by the most hateful passions. It is not to be marvelled at. It is not to be set down as the special sin of the war. It goes back beyond that. It is the sin of the system. It is the barbarism of Slavery. When Slavery went to war to save its life, what wonder if its barbarism grew barbarous a hundred-fold! One would be attempting a task which once was almost hopeless, but which now is only needless, if he set himself to convince a Northern congregation that Slavery was a barbarian institution. It would be hardly more necessary to try to prove how its barbarism has shown itself during this war. The same spirit which was blind to the wickedness of breaking sacred ties, of separating man and wife, of beating women till they dropped down dead, of organizing licentiousness and sin into commercial systems, of forbidding knowledge and protecting itself with ignorance, of putting on its arms and riding out to steal a State at the beleaguered ballot-box away from freedom--in one word (for its simplest definition is its worst dishonor), the spirit that gave man the ownership in man in time of peace, has found out yet more terrible barbarisms for the time of war. It has hewed and burned the bodies of the dead. It has starved and mutilated its helpless prisoners. It has dealt by truth, not as men will in a time of excitement, lightly and with frequent violations, but with a cool, and deliberate, and systematic contempt. It has sent its agents into Northern towns to fire peaceful hotels where hundreds of peaceful men and women slept. It has undermined the prisons where its victims starved, and made all ready to blow with one blast their wretched life away. It has delighted in the lowest and basest scurrility even on the highest and most honorable lips. It has corrupted the graciousness of women and killed out the truth of men. I do not count up the terrible catalogue because I like to, nor because I wish to stir your hearts to passion. Even now, you and I have no right to indulge in personal hatred to the men who did these things. But we are not doing right by ourselves, by the President that we have lost, or by God who had a purpose in our losing him, unless we know thoroughly that it was this same spirit which we have seen to be a tyrant in peace and a savage in war, that has crowned itself with the working of this final woe. It was the conflict of the two American natures, the false and the true. It was Slavery and Freedom that met in their two representatives, the assassin and the President; and the victim of the last desperate struggle of the dying Slavery lies dead to-day in Independence Hall. Solemnly, in the sight of God, I charge this murder where it belongs, on Slavery. I dare not stand here in His sight, and before Him or you speak doubtful and double-meaning words of vague repentance, as if we had killed our President. We have sins enough, but we have not done this sin, save as by weak concessions and timid compromises we have let the spirit of Slavery grow strong and ripe for such a deed. In the barbarism of Slavery the foul act and its foul method had their birth. By all the goodness that there was in him; by all the love we had for him (and who shall tell how great it was); by all the sorrow that has burdened down this desolate and dreadful week,--I charge this murder where it belongs, on Slavery. I bid you to remember where the charge belongs, to write it on the door-posts of your mourning houses, to teach it to your wondering children, to give it to the history of these times, that all times to come may hate and dread the sin that killed our noblest President. If ever anything were clear, this is the clearest. Is there the man alive who thinks that Abraham Lincoln was shot just for himself; that it was that one man for whom the plot was laid? The gentlest, kindest, most indulgent man that ever ruled a State! The man who knew not how to speak a word of harshness or how to make a foe! Was it he for whom the murderer lurked with a mere private hate? It was not he, but what he stood for. It was Law and Liberty, it was Government and Freedom, against which the hate gathered and the treacherous shot was fired. And I know not how the crime of him who shoots at Law and Liberty in the crowded glare of a great theatre differs from theirs who have levelled their aim at the same great beings from behind a thousand ambuscades and on a hundred battle-fields of this long war. Every general in the field, and every false citizen in our midst at home, who has plotted and labored to destroy the lives of the soldiers of the Republic, is brother to him who did this deed. The American nature, the American truths, of which our President was the anointed and supreme embodiment, have been embodied in multitudes of heroes who marched unknown and fell unnoticed in our ranks. For them, just as for him, character decreed a life and a death. The blood of all of them I charge on the same head. Slavery armed with Treason was their murderer. Men point out to us the absurdity and folly of this awful crime. Again and again we hear men say, "It was the worst thing for themselves they could have done. They have shot a representative man, and the cause he represented grows stronger and sterner by his death. Can it be that so wise a devil was so foolish here? Must it not have been the act of one poor madman, born and nursed in his own reckless brain?" My friends, let us understand this matter. It was a foolish act. Its folly was only equalled by its wickedness. It was a foolish act. But when did sin begin to be wise? When did wickedness learn wisdom? When did the fool stop saying in his heart, "There is no God," and acting godlessly in the absurdity of his impiety? The cause that Abraham Lincoln died for shall grow stronger by his death,--stronger and sterner. Stronger to set its pillars deep into the structure of our nation's life; sterner to execute the justice of the Lord upon his enemies. Stronger to spread its arms and grasp our whole land into freedom; sterner to sweep the last poor ghost of Slavery out of our haunted homes. But while we feel the folly of this act, let not its folly hide its wickedness. It was the wickedness of Slavery putting on a foolishness for which its wickedness and that alone is responsible, that robbed the nation of a President and the people of a father. And remember this, that the folly of the Slave power in striking the representative of Freedom, and thinking that thereby it killed Freedom itself, is only a folly that we shall echo if we dare to think that in punishing the representatives of Slavery who did this deed, we are putting Slavery to death. Dispersing armies and hanging traitors, imperatively as justice and necessity may demand them both, are not killing the spirit out of which they sprang. The traitor must die because he has committed treason. The murderer must die because he has committed murder. Slavery must die, because out of it, and it alone, came forth the treason of the traitor and the murder of the murderer. Do not say that it is dead. It is not, while its essential spirit lives. While one man counts another man his born inferior for the color of his skin, while both in North and South prejudices and practices, which the law cannot touch, but which God hates, keep alive in our people's hearts the spirit of the old iniquity, it is not dead. The new American nature must supplant the old. We must grow like our President, in his truth, his independence, his religion, and his wide humanity. Then the character by which he died shall be in us, and by it we shall live. Then peace shall come that knows no war, and law that knows no treason; and full of his spirit a grateful land shall gather round his grave, and in the daily psalm of prosperous and righteous living, thank God forever for his life and death. So let him lie here in our midst to-day, and let our people go and bend with solemn thoughtfulness and look upon his face and read the lessons of his burial. As he paused here on his journey from the Western home and told us what by the help of God he meant to do, so let him pause upon his way back to his Western grave and tell us with a silence more eloquent than words how bravely, how truly, by the strength of God, he did it. God brought him up as he brought David up from the sheepfolds to feed Jacob, his people, and Israel, his inheritance. He came up in earnestness and faith, and he goes back in triumph. As he pauses here to-day, and from his cold lips bids us bear witness how he has met the duty that was laid on him, what can we say out of our full hearts but this--"He fed them with a faithful and true heart, and ruled them prudently with all his power." The _Shepherd of the People_! that old name that the best rulers ever craved. What ruler ever won it like this dead President of ours? He fed us faithfully and truly. He fed us with counsel when we were in doubt, with inspiration when we sometimes faltered, with caution when we would be rash, with calm, clear, trustful cheerfulness through many an hour when our hearts were dark. He fed hungry souls all over the country with sympathy and consolation. He spread before the whole land feasts of great duty and devotion and patriotism, on which the land grew strong. He fed us with solemn, solid truths. He taught us the sacredness of government, the wickedness of treason. He made our souls glad and vigorous with the love of liberty that was in his. He showed us how to love truth and yet be charitable--how to hate wrong and all oppression, and yet not treasure one personal injury or insult. He fed _all_ his people, from the highest to the lowest, from the most privileged down to the most enslaved. Best of all, he fed us with a reverent and genuine religion. He spread before us the love and fear of God just in that shape in which we need them most, and out of his faithful service of a higher Master who of us has not taken and eaten and grown strong? "He fed them with a faithful and true heart." Yes, till the last. For at the last, behold him standing with hand reached out to feed the South with mercy and the North with charity, and the whole land with peace, when the Lord who had sent him called him and his work was done! He stood once on the battle-field of our own State, and said of the brave men who had saved it words as noble as any countryman of ours ever spoke. Let us stand in the country he has saved, and which is to be his grave and monument, and say of Abraham Lincoln what he said of the soldiers who had died at Gettysburg. He stood there with their graves before him, and these are the words he said:-- "We cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men who struggled here have consecrated it far beyond our power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living rather to be dedicated to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; and this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, and for the people shall not perish from the earth." May God make us worthy of the memory of Abraham Lincoln! FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 1: A sermon preached in Philadelphia, while the body of the President was lying in the city.] 
14139	----	Proofreading Team. NEW TABERNACLE SERMONS BY T. DE WITT TALMAGE, D.D. AUTHOR OF "_CRUMBS SWEPT UP_," "_THE ABOMINATIONS OF MODERN SOCIETY_," etc. Delivered in the Brooklyn Tabernacle. VOL. I NEW YORK: GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 17 TO 27 VANDEWATER STREET. 1886. [Illustration: T. De Witt Talmage] _Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1885, by_ GEORGE MUNRO, _in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C._ CONTENTS. PAGE BRAWN AND MUSCLE 7 THE PLEIADES AND ORION 21 THE QUEEN'S VISIT 34 VICARIOUS SUFFERING 45 POSTHUMOUS OPPORTUNITY 59 THE LORD'S RAZOR 72 WINDOWS TOWARD JERUSALEM 83 STORMED AND TAKEN 95 ALL THE WORLD AKIN 108 A MOMENTOUS QUEST 119 THE GREAT ASSIZE 134 THE ROAD TO THE CITY 147 THE RANSOMLESS 158 THE THREE GROUPS 171 THE INSIGNIFICANT 184 THE THREE RINGS 197 HOW HE CAME TO SAY IT 209 CASTLE JESUS 221 STRIPPING THE SLAIN 233 SOLD OUT 246 SUMMER TEMPTATIONS 259 THE BANISHED QUEEN 274 THE DAY WE LIVE IN 285 CAPITAL AND LABOR 297 DESPOTISM OF THE NEEDLE 311 TOBACCO AND OPIUM 325 WHY ARE SATAN AND SIN PERMITTED? 339 BRAWN AND MUSCLE. "And Samson went down to Timnath."--JUDGES xiv: 1. There are two sides to the character of Samson. The one phase of his life, if followed into the particulars, would administer to the grotesque and the mirthful; but there is a phase of his character fraught with lessons of solemn and eternal import. To these graver lessons we devote our morning sermon. This giant no doubt in early life gave evidences of what he was to be. It is almost always so. There were two Napoleons--the boy Napoleon and the man Napoleon--but both alike; two Howards--the boy Howard and the man Howard--but both alike; two Samsons--the boy Samson and the man Samson--but both alike. This giant was no doubt the hero of the playground, and nothing could stand before his exhibitions of youthful prowess. At eighteen years of age he was betrothed to the daughter of a Philistine. Going down toward Timnath, a lion came out upon him, and, although this young giant was weaponless, he seized the monster by the long mane and shook him as a hungry hound shakes a March hare, and made his bones crack, and left him by the wayside bleeding under the smiting of his fist and the grinding heft of his heel. There he stands, looming up above other men, a mountain of flesh, his arms bunched with muscle that can lift the gate of a city, taking an attitude defiant of everything. His hair had never been cut, and it rolled down in seven great plaits over his shoulders, adding to his bulk, fierceness, and terror. The Philistines want to conquer him, and therefore they must find out where the secret of his strength lies. There is a dissolute woman living in the valley of Sorek by the name of Delilah. They appoint her the agent in the case. The Philistines are secreted in the same building, and then Delilah goes to work and coaxes Samson to tell what is the secret of his strength. "Well," he says, "if you should take seven green withes such as they fasten wild beasts with and put them around me I should be perfectly powerless." So she binds him with the seven green withes. Then she claps her hands and says: "They come--the Philistines!" and he walks out as though they were no impediment. She coaxes him again, and says: "Now tell me the secret of this great strength?" and he replies: "If you should take some ropes that have never been used and tie me with them I should be just like other men." She ties him with the ropes, claps her hands, and shouts: "They come--the Philistines!" He walks out as easily as he did before--not a single obstruction. She coaxes him again, and he says: "Now, if you should take these seven long plaits of hair, and by this house-loom weave them into a web, I could not get away." So the house-loom is rolled up, and the shuttle flies backward and forward and the long plaits of hair are woven into a web. Then she claps her hands, and says: "They come--the Philistines!" He walks out as easily as he did before, dragging a part of the loom with him. But after awhile she persuades him to tell the truth. He says: "If you should take a razor or shears and cut off this long hair, I should be powerless and in the hands of my enemies." Samson sleeps, and that she may not wake him up during the process of shearing, help is called in. You know that the barbers of the East have such a skillful way of manipulating the head to this very day that, instead of waking up a sleeping man, they will put a man wide awake sound asleep. I hear the blades of the shears grinding against each other, and I see the long locks falling off. The shears or razor accomplishes what green withes and new ropes and house-loom could not do. Suddenly she claps her hands, and says: "The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!" He rouses up with a struggle, but his strength is all gone. He is in the hands of his enemies. I hear the groan of the giant as they take his eyes out, and then I see him staggering on in his blindness, feeling his way as he goes on toward Gaza. The prison door is open, and the giant is thrust in. He sits down and puts his hands on the mill-crank, which, with exhausting horizontal motion, goes day after day, week after week, month after month--work, work, work! The consternation of the world in captivity, his locks shorn, his eyes punctured, grinding corn in Gaza! I. First of all, behold in this giant of the text that physical power is not always an index of moral power. He was a huge man--the lion found it out, and the three thousand men whom he slew found it out; yet he was the subject of petty revenges and out-gianted by low passion. I am far from throwing any discredit upon physical stamina. There are those who seem to have great admiration for delicacy and sickliness of constitution. I never could see any glory in weak nerves or sick headache. Whatever effort in our day is made to make the men and women more robust should have the favor of every good citizen as well as of every Christian. Gymnastics may be positively religious. Good people sometimes ascribe to a wicked heart what they ought to ascribe to a slow liver. The body and the soul are such near neighbors that they often catch each other's diseases. Those who never saw a sick day, and who, like Hercules, show the giant in the cradle, have more to answer for than those who are the subjects of life-long infirmities. He who can lift twice as much as you can, and walk twice as far, and work twice as long, will have a double account to meet in the judgment. How often it is that you do not find physical energy indicative of spiritual power! If a clear head is worth more than one dizzy with perpetual vertigo--if muscles with the play of health in them are worth more than those drawn up in chronic "rheumatics"--if an eye quick to catch passing objects is better than one with vision dim and uncertain--then God will require of us efficiency just in proportion to what he has given us. Physical energy ought to be a type of moral power. We ought to have as good digestion of truth as we have capacity to assimilate food. Our spiritual hearing ought to be as good as our physical hearing. Our spiritual taste ought to be as clear as our tongue. Samsons in body, we ought to be giants in moral power. But while you find a great many men who realize that they ought to use their money aright, and use their intelligence aright, how few men you find aware of the fact that they ought to use their physical organism aright! With every thump of the heart there is something saying, "Work! work!" and, lest we should complain that we have no tools to work with, God gives us our hands and feet, with every knuckle, and with every joint, and with every muscle saying to us, "Lay hold and do something." But how often it is that men with physical strength do not serve Christ! They are like a ship full manned and full rigged, capable of vast tonnage, able to endure all stress of weather, yet swinging idly at the docks, when these men ought to be crossing and recrossing the great ocean of human suffering and sin with God's supplies of mercy. How often it is that physical strength is used in doing positive damage, or in luxurious ease, when, with sleeves rolled up and bronzed bosom, fearless of the shafts of opposition, it ought to be laying hold with all its might, and tugging away to lift up this sunken wreck of a world. It is a most shameful fact that much of the business of the Church and of the world must be done by those comparatively invalid. Richard Baxter, by reason of his diseases, all his days sitting in the door of the tomb, yet writing more than a hundred volumes, and sending out an influence for God that will endure as long as the "Saints' Everlasting Rest." Edward Payson, never knowing a well day, yet how he preached, and how he wrote, helping thousands of dying souls like himself to swim in a sea of glory! And Robert M'Cheyne, a walking skeleton, yet you know what he did in Dundee, and how he shook Scotland with zeal for God. Philip Doddridge, advised by his friends, because of his illness, not to enter the ministry, yet you know what he did for the "rise and progress of religion" in the Church and in the world. Wilberforce was told by his doctors that he could not live a fortnight, yet at that very time entering upon philanthropic enterprises that demanded the greatest endurance and persistence. Robert Hall, suffering excruciations, so that often in his pulpit while preaching he would stop and lie down on a sofa, then getting up again to preach about heaven until the glories of the celestial city dropped on the multitude, doing more work, perhaps, than almost any well man in his day. Oh, how often it is that men with great physical endurance are not as great in moral and spiritual stature! While there are achievements for those who are bent all their days with sickness--achievements of patience, achievements of Christian endurance--I call upon men of health to-day, men of muscle, men of nerve, men of physical power, to devote themselves to the Lord. Giants in body, you ought to be giants in soul. II. Behold also, in the story of my text, illustration of the fact of the damage that strength can do if it be misguided. It seems to me that this man spent a great deal of his time in doing evil--this Samson of my text. To pay a bet which he had lost by guessing of his riddle he robs and kills thirty people. He was not only gigantic in strength, but gigantic in mischief, and a type of those men in all ages of the world who, powerful in body or mind, or any faculty of social position or wealth, have used their strength for iniquitous purposes. It is not the small, weak men of the day who do the damage. These small men who go swearing and loafing about your stores and shops and banking-houses, assailing Christ and the Bible and the Church--they do not do the damage. They have no influence. They are vermin that you crush with your foot. But it is the giants of the day, the misguided giants, giants in physical power, or giants in mental acumen, or giants in social position, or giants in wealth, who do the damage. The men with sharp pens that stab religion and throw their poison all through our literature; the men who use the power of wealth to sanction iniquity, and bribe justice, and make truth and honor bow to their golden scepter. Misguided giants--look out for them! In the middle and the latter part of the last century no doubt there were thousands of men in Paris and Edinburgh and London who hated God and blasphemed the name of the Almighty; but they did but little mischief--they were small men, insignificant men. Yet there were giants in those days. Who can calculate the soul-havoc of a Rousseau, going on with a very enthusiasm of iniquity, with fiery imagination seizing upon all the impulsive natures of his day? or David Hume, who employed his life as a spider employs its summer, in spinning out silken webs to trap the unwary? or Voltaire, the most learned man of his day, marshaling a great host of skeptics, and leading them out in the dark land of infidelity? or Gibbon, who showed an uncontrollable grudge against religion in his history of one of the most fascinating periods of the world's existence--the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire--a book in which, with all the splendors of his genius, he magnified the errors of Christian disciples, while, with a sparseness of notice that never can be forgiven, he treated of the Christian heroes of whom the world was not worthy? Oh, men of stout physical health, men of great mental stature, men of high social position, men of great power of any sort, I want you to understand your power, and I want you to know that that power devoted to God will be a crown on earth, to you typical of a crown in heaven; but misguided, bedraggled in sin, administrative of evil, God will thunder against you with His condemnation in the day when millionaire and pauper, master and slave, king and subject, shall stand side by side in the judgment, and money-bags, and judicial ermine, and royal robe shall be riven with the lightnings. Behold also, how a giant may be slain of a woman. Delilah started the train of circumstances that pulled down the temple of Dagon about Samson's ears. And tens of thousands of giants have gone down to death and hell through the same impure fascinations. It seems to me that it is high time that pulpit and platform and printing-press speak out against the impurities of modern society. Fastidiousness and Prudery say: "Better not speak--you will rouse up adverse criticism; you will make worse what you want to make better; better deal in glittering generalities; the subject is too delicate for polite ears." But there comes a voice from heaven overpowering the mincing sentimentalities of the day, saying: "Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet, and show my people their transgressions and the house of Jacob their sins." The trouble is that when people write or speak upon this theme they are apt to cover it up with the graces of belles-lettres, so that the crime is made attractive instead of repulsive. Lord Byron in "Don Juan" adorns this crime until it smiles like a May queen. Michelet, the great French writer, covers it up with bewitching rhetoric until it glows like the rising sun, when it ought to be made loathsome as a small-pox hospital. There are to-day influences abroad which, if unresisted by the pulpit and the printing-press, will turn New York and Brooklyn into Sodom and Gomorrah, fit only for the storm of fire and brimstone that whelmed the cities of the plain. You who are seated in your Christian homes, compassed by moral and religious restraints, do not realize the gulf of iniquity that bounds you on the north and the south and the east and the west. While I speak there are tens of thousands of men and women going over the awful plunge of an impure life; and while I cry to God for mercy upon their souls, I call upon you to marshal in the defense of your homes, your Church and your nation. There is a banqueting hall that you have never heard described. You know all about the feast of Ahasuerus, where a thousand lords sat. You know all about Belshazzar's carousal, where the blood of the murdered king spurted into the faces of the banqueters. You may know of the scene of riot and wassail, when there was set before Esopus one dish of food that cost $400,000. But I speak now of a different banqueting hall. Its roof is fretted with fire. Its floor is tesselated with fire. Its chalices are chased with fire. Its song is a song of fire. Its walls are buttresses of fire. Solomon refers to it when he says: "Her guests are in the depths of hell." Our American communities are suffering from the gospel of Free Loveism, which, fifteen or twenty years ago, was preached on the platform and in some of the churches of this country. I charge upon Free Loveism that it has blighted innumerable homes, and that it has sent innumerable souls to ruin. Free Loveism is bestial; it is worse--it is infernal! It has furnished this land with about one thousand divorces annually. In one county in the State of Indiana it furnished eleven divorces in one day before dinner. It has roused up elopements, North, South, East, and West. You can hardly take up a paper but you read of an elopement. As far as I can understand the doctrine of Free Loveism it is this: That every man ought to have somebody else's wife, and every wife somebody else's husband. They do not like our Christian organization of society, and I wish they would all elope, the wretches of one sex taking the wretches of the other, and start to-morrow morning for the great Sahara Desert, until the simoom shall sweep seven feet of sand all over them, and not one passing caravan for the next five hundred years bring back one miserable bone of their carcasses! Free Loveism! It is the double-distilled extract of nux vomica, ratsbane, and adder's tongue. Never until society goes back to the old Bible, and hears its eulogy of purity and its anathema of uncleanness--never until then will this evil be extirpated. IV. Behold also in this giant of the text and in the giant of our own century that great physical power must crumble and expire. The Samson of the text long ago went away. He fought the lion. He fought the Philistines. He could fight anything, but death was too much for him. He may have required a longer grave and a broader grave; but the tomb nevertheless was his terminus. If, then, we are to be compelled to go out of this world, where are we to go to? This body and soul must soon part. What shall be the destiny of the former I know--dust to dust. But what shall be the destiny of the latter? Shall it rise into the companionship of the white-robed, whose sins Christ has slain? or will it go down among the unbelieving, who tried to gain the world and save their souls, but were swindled out of both? Blessed be God, we have a Champion! He is so styled in the Bible: A Champion who has conquered death and hell, and he is ready to fight all our battles from the first to the last. "Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah, mighty to save?" If we follow in the wake of that Champion death has no power and the grave no victory. The worst man trusting in Him shall have his dying pangs alleviated and his future illumined. V. In the light of this subject I want to call your attention to a fact which may not have been rightly considered by five men in this house, and that is the fact that we must be brought into judgment for the employment of our physical organism. Shoulder, brain, hand, foot--we must answer in judgment for the use we have made of them. Have they been used for the elevation of society or for its depression? In proportion as our arm is strong and our step elastic will our account at last be intensified. Thousands of sermons are preached to invalids. I preach this sermon this morning to stout men and healthful women. We must give to God an account for the right use of this physical organism. These invalids have comparatively little to account for, perhaps. They could not lift twenty pounds. They could not walk half a mile without sitting down to rest. In the preparation of this subject I have said to myself, how shall I account to God in judgment for the use of a body which never knew one moment of real sickness? Rising up in judgment, standing beside the men and women who had only little physical energy, and yet consumed that energy in a conflagration of religious enthusiasm, how will we feel abashed! Oh, men of the strong arm and the stout heart, what use are you making of your physical forces? Will you be able to stand the test of that day when we must answer for the use of every talent, whether it were a physical energy, or a mental acumen, or a spiritual power? The day approaches, and I see one who in this world was an invalid, and as she stands before the throne of God to answer she says, "I was sick all my days. I had but very little strength, but I did as well as I could in being kind to those who were more sick and more suffering." And Christ will say, "Well done, faithful servant." And then a little child will stand before the throne, and she will say, "On earth I had a curvature of the spine, and I was very weak, and I was very sick; but I used to gather flowers out of the wild-wood and bring them to my sick mother, and she was comforted when she saw the sweet flowers out of the wild-wood. I didn't do much, but I did something." And Christ shall say, as He takes her up in His arm and kisses her, "Well done, well done, faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." What, then, will be said to us--we to whom the Lord gave physical strength and continuous health? Hark! it thunders again. The judgment! the judgment! I said to an old Scotch minister, who was one of the best friends I ever had, "Doctor, did you ever know Robert Pollock, the Scotch poet, who wrote 'The Course of Time'?" "Oh, yes," he replied, "I knew him well; I was his classmate." And then the doctor went on to tell me how that the writing of "The Course of Time" exhausted the health of Robert Pollock, and he expired. It seems as if no man could have such a glimpse of the day for which all other days were made as Robert Pollock had, and long survive that glimpse. In the description of that day he says, among other things: "Begin the woe, ye woods, and tell it to the doleful winds And doleful winds wail to the howling hills, And howling hills mourn to the dismal vales, And dismal vales sigh to the sorrowing brooks, And sorrowing brooks weep to the weeping stream, And weeping stream awake the groaning deep; Ye heavens, great archway of the universe, put sack-cloth on; And ocean, robe thyself in garb of widowhood, And gather all thy waves into a groan, and utter it. Long, loud, deep, piercing, dolorous, immense. The occasion asks it, Nature dies, and angels come to lay her in her grave." What Robert Pollock saw in poetic dream, you and I will see in positive reality--the judgment! the judgment! THE PLEIADES AND ORION. "Seek Him that maketh the Seven Stars and Orion."--AMOS. v. 8 A country farmer wrote this text--Amos of Tekoa. He plowed the earth and threshed the grain by a new threshing-machine just invented, as formerly the cattle trod out the grain. He gathered the fruit of the sycamore-tree, and scarified it with an iron comb just before it was getting ripe, as it was necessary and customary in that way to take from it the bitterness. He was the son of a poor shepherd, and stuttered; but before the stammering rustic the Philistines, and Syrians, and Phoenicians, and Moabites, and Ammonites, and Edomites, and Israelites trembled. Moses was a law-giver, Daniel was a prince, Isaiah a courtier, and David a king; but Amos, the author of my text, was a peasant, and, as might be supposed, nearly all his parallelisms are pastoral, his prophecy full of the odor of new-mown hay, and the rattle of locusts, and the rumble of carts with sheaves, and the roar of wild beasts devouring the flock while the shepherd came out in their defense. He watched the herds by day, and by night inhabited a booth made out of bushes, so that through these branches he could see the stars all night long, and was more familiar with them than we who have tight roofs to our houses, and hardly ever see the stars except among the tall brick chimneys of the great towns. But at seasons of the year when the herds were in special danger, he would stay out in the open field all through the darkness, his only shelter the curtain of the night, heaven, with the stellar embroideries and silvered tassels of lunar light. What a life of solitude, all alone with his herds! Poor Amos! And at twelve o'clock at night, hark to the wolf's bark, and the lion's roar, and the bear's growl, and the owl's te-whit-te-whos, and the serpent's hiss, as he unwittingly steps too near while moving through the thickets! So Amos, like other herdsmen, got the habit of studying the map of the heavens, because it was so much of the time spread out before him. He noticed some stars advancing and others receding. He associated their dawn and setting with certain seasons of the year. He had a poetic nature, and he read night by night, and month by month, and year by year, the poem of the constellations, divinely rhythmic. But two rosettes of stars especially attracted his attention while seated on the ground, or lying on his back under the open scroll of the midnight heavens--the Pleiades, or Seven Stars, and Orion. The former group this rustic prophet associated with the spring, as it rises about the first of May. The latter he associated with the winter, as it comes to the meridian in January. The Pleiades, or Seven Stars, connected with all sweetness and joy; Orion, the herald of the tempest. The ancients were the more apt to study the physiognomy and juxtaposition of the heavenly bodies, because they thought they had a special influence upon the earth; and perhaps they were right. If the moon every few hours lifts and lets down the tides of the Atlantic Ocean, and the electric storms of last year in the sun, by all scientific admission, affected the earth, why not the stars have proportionate effect? And there are some things which make me think that it may not have been all superstition which connected the movements and appearance of the heavenly bodies with great moral events on earth. Did not a meteor run on evangelistic errand on the first Christmas night, and designate the rough cradle of our Lord? Did not the stars in their courses fight against Sisera? Was it merely coincidental that before the destruction of Jerusalem the moon was eclipsed for twelve consecutive nights? Did it merely happen so that a new star appeared in constellation Cassiopeia, and then disappeared just before King Charles IX. of France, who was responsible for St. Bartholomew massacre, died? Was it without significance that in the days of the Roman Emperor Justinian war and famine were preceded by the dimness of the sun, which for nearly a year gave no more light than the moon, although there were no clouds to obscure it? Astrology, after all, may have been something more than a brilliant heathenism. No wonder that Amos of the text, having heard these two anthems of the stars, put down the stout rough staff of the herdsman and took into his brown hand and cut and knotted fingers the pen of a prophet, and advised the recreant people of his time to return to God, saying: "Seek Him that maketh the Seven Stars and Orion." This command, which Amos gave 785 years B.C., is just as appropriate for us, 1885 A.D. In the first place, Amos saw, as we must see, that the God who made the Pleiades and Orion must be the God of order. It was not so much a star here and a star there that impressed the inspired herdsman, but seven in one group, and seven in the other group. He saw that night after night and season after season and decade after decade they had kept step of light, each one in its own place, a sisterhood never clashing and never contesting precedence. From the time Hesiod called the Pleiades the "seven daughters of Atlas" and Virgil wrote in his �neid of "Stormy Orion" until now, they have observed the order established for their coming and going; order written not in manuscript that may be pigeon-holed, but with the hand of the Almighty on the dome of the sky, so that all nations may read it. Order. Persistent order. Sublime order. Omnipotent order. What a sedative to you and me, to whom communities and nations sometimes seem going pell-mell, and world ruled by some fiend at hap-hazard, and in all directions maladministration! The God who keeps seven worlds in right circuit for six thousand years can certainly keep all the affairs of individuals and nations and continents in adjustment. We had not better fret much, for the peasant's argument of the text was right. If God can take care of the seven worlds of the Pleiades and the four chief worlds of Orion, He can probably take care of the one world we inhabit. So I feel very much as my father felt one day when we were going to the country mill to get a grist ground, and I, a boy of seven years, sat in the back part of the wagon, and our yoke of oxen ran away with us and along a labyrinthine road through the woods, so that I thought every moment we would be dashed to pieces, and I made a terrible outcry of fright, and my father turned to me with a face perfectly calm, and said: "De Witt, what are you crying about? I guess we can ride as fast as the oxen can run." And, my hearers, why should we be affrighted and lose our equilibrium in the swift movement of worldly events, especially when we are assured that it is not a yoke of unbroken steers that are drawing us on, but that order and wise government are in the yoke? In your occupation, your mission, your sphere, do the best you can, and then trust to God; and if things are all mixed and disquieting, and your brain is hot and your heart sick, get some one to go out with you into the starlight and point out to you the Pleiades, or, better than that, get into some observatory, and through the telescope see further than Amos with the naked eye could--namely, two hundred stars in the Pleiades, and that in what is called the sword of Orion there is a nebula computed to be two trillion two hundred thousand billions of times larger than the sun. Oh, be at peace with the God who made all that and controls all that--the wheel of the constellations turning in the wheel of galaxies for thousands of years without the breaking of a cog or the slipping of a band or the snap of an axle. For your placidity and comfort through the Lord Jesus Christ I charge you, "Seek Him that maketh the Seven Stars and Orion." Again, Amos saw, as we must see, that the God who made these two groups of the text was the God of light. Amos saw that God was not satisfied with making one star, or two or three stars, but He makes seven; and having finished that group of worlds, makes another group--group after group. To the Pleiades He adds Orion. It seems that God likes light so well that He keeps making it. Only one being in the universe knows the statistics of solar, lunar, stellar, meteoric creations, and that is the--Creator Himself. And they have all been lovingly christened, each one a name as distinct as the names of your children. "He telleth the number of the stars; He calleth them all by their names." The seven Pleiades had names given to them, and they are Alcyone, Merope, Celæno, Electra, Sterope, Taygete, and Maia. But think of the billions and trillions of daughters of starry light that God calls by name as they sweep by Him with beaming brow and lustrous robe! So fond is God of light--natural light, moral light, spiritual light. Again and again is light harnessed for symbolization--Christ, the bright and morning star; evangelization, the daybreak; the redemption of nations, Sun of Righteousness rising with healing in His wings. Oh, men and women, with so many sorrows and sins and perplexities, if you want light of comfort, light of pardon, light of goodness, in earnest, pray through Christ, "Seek Him that maketh the Seven Stars and Orion." Again, Amos saw, as we must see, that the God who made these two archipelagoes of stars must be an unchanging God. There had been no change in the stellar appearance in this herdsman's life-time, and his father, a shepherd, reported to him that there had been no change in his life-time. And these two clusters hang over the celestial arbor now just as they were the first night that they shone on the Edenic bowers, the same as when the Egyptians built the Pyramids from the top of which to watch them, the same as when the Chaldeans calculated the eclipses, the same as when Elihu, according to the Book of Job, went out to study the aurora borealis, the same under Ptolemaic system and Copernican system, the same from Calisthenes to Pythagoras, and from Pythagoras to Herschel. Surely, a changeless God must have fashioned the Pleiades and Orion! Oh, what an anodyne amid the ups and downs of life, and the flux and reflux of the tides of prosperity, to know that we have a changeless God, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. Xerxes garlanded and knighted the steersman of his boat in the morning, and hanged him in the evening of the same day. Fifty thousand people stood around the columns of the national capitol, shouting themselves hoarse at the presidential inaugural, and in four months so great were the antipathies that a ruffian's pistol in Washington depot expressed the sentiment of a great multitude. The world sits in its chariot and drives tandem, and the horse ahead is Huzza, and the horse behind is Anathema. Lord Cobham, in King James' time, was applauded, and had thirty-five thousand dollars a year, but was afterward execrated, and lived on scraps stolen from the royal kitchen. Alexander the Great after death remained unburied for thirty days, because no one would do the honor of shoveling him under. The Duke of Wellington refused to have his iron fence mended, because it had been broken by an infuriated populace in some hour of political excitement, and he left it in ruins that men might learn what a fickle thing is human favor. "But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting to them that fear Him, and His righteousness unto the children's children of such as keep His covenant, and to those who remember His commandments to do them." This moment "seek Him that maketh the Seven Stars and Orion." Again, Amos saw, as we must see, that the God who made these two beacons of the Oriental night sky must be a God of love and kindly warning. The Pleiades rising in mid-sky said to all the herdsmen and shepherds and husbandmen: "Come out and enjoy the mild weather, and cultivate your gardens and fields." Orion, coming in winter, warned them to prepare for tempest. All navigation was regulated by these two constellations. The one said to shipmaster and crew: "Hoist sail for the sea, and gather merchandise from other lands." But Orion was the storm-signal, and said: "Reef sail, make things snug, or put into harbor, for the hurricanes are getting their wings out." As the Pleiades were the sweet evangels of the spring, Orion was the warning prophet of the winter. Oh, now I get the best view of God I ever had! There are two kinds of sermons I never want to preach--the one that presents God so kind, so indulgent, so lenient, so imbecile that men may do what they will against Him, and fracture His every law, and put the cry of their impertinence and rebellion under His throne, and while they are spitting in His face and stabbing at His heart, He takes them up in His arms and kisses their infuriated brow and cheek, saying, "Of such is the kingdom of heaven." The other kind of sermon I never want to preach is the one that represents God as all fire and torture and thundercloud, and with red-hot pitch-fork tossing the human race into paroxysms of infinite agony. The sermon that I am now preaching believes in a God of loving, kindly warning, the God of spring and winter, the God of the Pleiades and Orion. You must remember that the winter is just as important as the spring. Let one winter pass without frost to kill vegetation and ice to bind the rivers and snow to enrich our fields, and then you will have to enlarge your hospitals and your cemeteries. "A green Christmas makes a fat grave-yard," was the old proverb. Storms to purify the air. Thermometer at ten degrees above zero to tone up the system. December and January just as important as May and June. I tell you we need the storms of life as much as we do the sunshine. There are more men ruined by prosperity than by adversity. If we had our own way in life, before this we would have been impersonations of selfishness and worldliness and disgusting sin, and puffed up until we would have been like Julius Cæsar, who was made by sycophants to believe that he was divine, and the freckles on his face were as the stars of the firmament. One of the swiftest transatlantic voyages made last summer by the "Etruria" was because she had a stormy wind abaft, chasing her from New York to Liverpool. But to those going in the opposite direction the storm was a buffeting and a hinderance. It is a bad thing to have a storm ahead, pushing us back; but if we be God's children and aiming toward heaven, the storms of life will only chase us the sooner into the harbor. I am so glad to believe that the monsoons, and typhoons, and mistrals, and siroccos of the land and sea are not unchained maniacs let loose upon the earth, but are under divine supervision! I am so glad that the God of the Seven Stars is also the God of Orion! It was out of Dante's suffering came the sublime "Divina Commedia," and out of John Milton's blindness came "Paradise Lost," and out of miserable infidel attack came the "Bridgewater Treatise" in favor of Christianity, and out of David's exile came the songs of consolation, and out of the sufferings of Christ came the possibility of the world's redemption, and out of your bereavement, your persecution, your poverties, your misfortunes, may yet come an eternal heaven. Oh, what a mercy it is that in the text and all up and down the Bible God induces us to look out toward other worlds! Bible astronomy in Genesis, in Joshua, in Job, in the Psalms, in the prophets, major and minor, in St. John's Apocalypse, practically saying, "Worlds! worlds! worlds! Get ready for them!" We have a nice little world here that we stick to, as though losing that we lose all. We are afraid of falling off this little raft of a world. We are afraid that some meteoric iconoclast will some night smash it, and we want everything to revolve around it, and are disappointed when we find that it revolves around the sun instead of the sun revolving around it. What a fuss we make about this little bit of a world, its existence only a short time between two spasms, the paroxysm by which it was hurled from chaos into order, and the paroxysm of its demolition. And I am glad that so many texts call us to look off to other worlds, many of them larger and grander and more resplendent. "Look there," says Job, "at Mazaroth and Arcturus and his sons!" "Look there," says St. John, "at the moon under Christ's feet!" "Look there," says Joshua, "at the sun standing still above Gibeon!" "Look there," says Moses, "at the sparkling firmament!" "Look there," says Amos, the herdsman, "at the Seven Stars and Orion!" Don't let us be so sad about those who shove off from this world under Christly pilotage. Don't let us be so agitated about our own going off this little barge or sloop or canal-boat of a world to get on some "Great Eastern" of the heavens. Don't let us persist in wanting to stay in this barn, this shed, this outhouse of a world, when all the King's palaces already occupied by many of our best friends are swinging wide open their gates to let us in. When I read, "In my Father's house are many mansions," I do not know but that each world is a room, and as many rooms as there are worlds, stellar stairs, stellar galleries, stellar hallways, stellar windows, stellar domes. How our departed friends must pity us shut up in these cramped apartments, tired if we walk fifteen miles, when they some morning, by one stroke of wing, can make circuit of the whole stellar system and be back in time for matins! Perhaps yonder twinkling constellation is the residence of the martyrs; that group of twelve luminaries is the celestial home of the Apostles. Perhaps that steep of light is the dwelling-place of angels cherubic, seraphic, archangelic. A mansion with as many rooms as worlds, and all their windows illuminated for festivity. Oh, how this widens and lifts and stimulates our expectation! How little it makes the present, and how stupendous it makes the future! How it consoles us about our pious dead, that instead of being boxed up and under the ground have the range of as many rooms as there are worlds, and welcome everywhere, for it is the Father's house, in which there are many mansions! Oh, Lord God of the Seven Stars and Orion, how can I endure the transport, the ecstasy, of such a vision! I must obey my text and seek Him. I will seek Him. I seek Him now, for I call to mind that it is not the material universe that is most valuable, but the spiritual, and that each of us has a soul worth more than all the worlds which the inspired herdsman saw from his booth on the hills of Tekoa. I had studied it before, but the Cathedral of Cologne, Germany, never impressed me as it did this summer. It is admittedly the grandest Gothic structure in the world, its foundation laid in 1248, only two or three years ago completed. More than six hundred years in building. All Europe taxed for its construction. Its chapel of the Magi with precious stones enough to purchase a kingdom. Its chapel of St. Agnes with masterpieces of painting. Its spire springing five hundred and eleven feet into the heavens. Its stained glass the chorus of all rich colors. Statues encircling the pillars and encircling all. Statues above statues, until sculpture can do no more, but faints and falls back against carved stalls and down on pavements over which the kings and queens of the earth have walked to confession. Nave and aisles and transept and portals combining the splendors of sunrise. Interlaced, interfoliated, intercolumned grandeur. As I stood outside, looking at the double range of flying buttresses and the forest of pinnacles, higher and higher and higher, until I almost reeled from dizziness, I exclaimed; "Great doxology in stone! Frozen prayer of many nations!" But while standing there I saw a poor man enter and put down his pack and kneel beside his burden on the hard floor of that cathedral. And tears of deep emotion came into my eyes, as I said to myself: "There is a soul worth more than all the material surroundings. That man will live after the last pinnacle has fallen, and not one stone of all that cathedral glory shall remain uncrumbled. He is now a Lazarus in rags and poverty and weariness, but immortal, and a son of the Lord God Almighty; and the prayer he now offers, though amid many superstitions, I believe God will hear; and among the Apostles whose sculptured forms stand in the surrounding niches he will at last be lifted, and into the presence of that Christ whose sufferings are represented by the crucifix before which he bows; and be raised in due time out of all his poverties into the glorious home built for him and built for us by 'Him who maketh the Seven Stars and Orion.'" THE QUEEN'S VISIT. "Behold, the half was not told me."--I KINGS x: 7. Solomon had resolved that Jerusalem should be the center of all sacred, regal, and commercial magnificence. He set himself to work, and monopolized the surrounding desert as a highway for his caravans. He built the city of Palmyra around one of the principal wells of the East, so that all the long trains of merchandise from the East were obliged to stop there, pay toll, and leave part of their wealth in the hands of Solomon's merchants. He manned the fortress Thapsacus at the chief ford of the Euphrates, and put under guard everything that passed there. The three great products of Palestine--wine pressed from the richest clusters and celebrated all the world over; oil which in that hot country is the entire substitute for butter and lard, and was pressed from the olive branches until every tree in the country became an oil well; and honey which was the entire substitute for sugar--these three great products of the country Solomon exported, and received in return fruits and precious woods and the animals of every clime. He went down to Ezion-geber and ordered a fleet of ships to be constructed, oversaw the workmen, and watched the launching of the flotilla which was to go out on more than a year's voyage, to bring home the wealth of the then known world. He heard that the Egyptian horses were large and swift, and long-maned and round-limbed, and he resolved to purchase them, giving eighty-five dollars apiece for them, putting the best of these horses in his own stall, and selling the surplus to foreign potentates at great profit. He heard that there was the best of timber on Mount Lebanon, and he sent out one hundred and eighty thousand men to hew down the forest and drag the timber through the mountain gorges, to construct it into rafts to be floated to Joppa, and from thence to be drawn by ox-teams twenty-five miles across the land to Jerusalem. He heard that there were beautiful flowers in other lands. He sent for them, planted them in his own gardens, and to this very day there are flowers found in the ruins of that city such as are to be found in no other part of Palestine, the lineal descendants of the very flowers that Solomon planted. He heard that in foreign groves there were birds of richest voice and most luxuriant wing. He sent out people to catch them and bring them there, and he put them into his cages. Stand back now and see this long train of camels coming up to the king's gate, and the ox-trains from Egypt, gold and silver and precious stones, and beasts of every hoof, and birds of every wing, and fish of every scale! See the peacocks strut under the cedars, and the horsemen run, and the chariots wheel! Hark to the orchestra! Gaze upon the dance! Not stopping to look into the wonders of the temple, step right on to the causeway, and pass up to Solomon's palace! Here we find ourselves amid a collection of buildings on which the king had lavished the wealth of many empires. The genius of Hiram, the architect, and of the other artists is here seen in the long line of corridors and the suspended gallery and the approach to the throne. Traceried window opposite traceried window. Bronzed ornaments bursting into lotus and lily and pomegranate. Chapiters surrounded by network of leaves in which imitation fruit seemed suspended as in hanging baskets. Three branches--so Josephus tells us--three branches sculptured on the marble, so thin and subtle that even the leaves seemed to quiver. A laver capable of holding five hundred barrels of water on six hundred brazen ox-heads, which gushed with water and filled the whole place with coolness and crystalline brightness and musical plash. Ten tables chased with chariot wheel and lion and cherubim. Solomon sat on a throne of ivory. At the seating place of the throne, on each end of the steps, a brazen lion. Why, my friends, in that place they trimmed their candles with snuffers of gold, and they cut their fruits with knives of gold, and they washed their faces in basins of gold, and they scooped out the ashes with shovels of gold, and they stirred the altar fires with tongs of gold. Gold reflected in the water! Gold flashing from the apparel! Gold blazing in the crown! Gold, gold, gold! Of course the news of the affluence of that place went out everywhere by every caravan and by wing of every ship, until soon the streets of Jerusalem are crowded with curiosity seekers. What is that long procession approaching Jerusalem? I think from the pomp of it there must be royalty in the train. I smell the breath of the spices which are brought as presents, and I hear the shout of the drivers, and I see the dust-covered caravan showing that they come from far away. Cry the news up to the palace. The Queen of Sheba advances. Let all the people come out to see. Let the mighty men of the land come out on the palace corridors. Let Solomon come down the stairs of the palace before the queen has alighted. Shake out the cinnamon, and the saffron, and the calamus, and the frankincense, and pass it into the treasure house. Take up the diamonds until they glitter in the sun. The Queen of Sheba alights. She enters the palace. She washes at the bath. She sits down at the banquet. The cup-bearers bow. The meat smokes. The music trembles in the dash of the waters from the molten sea. Then she rises from the banquet, and walks through the conservatories, and gazes on the architecture, and she asks Solomon many strange questions, and she learns about the religion of the Hebrews, and she then and there becomes a servant of the Lord God. She is overwhelmed. She begins to think that all the spices she brought, and all the precious woods which are intended to be turned into harps and psalteries and into railings for the causeway between the temple and the palace, and the one hundred and eighty thousand dollars in money--she begins to think that all these presents amount to nothing in such a place, and she is almost ashamed that she has brought them, and she says within herself: "I heard a great deal about this place, and about this wonderful religion of the Hebrews, but I find it far beyond my highest anticipations. I must add more than fifty per cent. to what has been related. It exceeds everything that I could have expected. The half--the half was not told me." Learn from this subject what a beautiful thing it is when social position and wealth surrender themselves to God. When religion comes to a neighborhood, the first to receive it are the women. Some men say it is because they are weak-minded. I say it is because they have quicker perception of what is right, more ardent affection and capacity for sublimer emotion. After the women have received the Gospel then all the distressed and the poor of both sexes, those who have no friends, accept Jesus. Last of all come the people of affluence and high social position. Alas, that it is so! If there are those here to-day who have been favored of fortune, or, as I might better put it, favored of God, surrender all you have and all you expect to be to the Lord who blessed this Queen of Sheba. Certainly you are not ashamed to be found in this queen's company. I am glad that Christ has had His imperial friends in all ages--Elizabeth Christina, Queen of Prussia; Maria Feodorovna, Queen of Russia; Marie, Empress of France; Helena, the imperial mother of Constantine; Arcadia, from her great fortunes building public baths in Constantinople and toiling for the alleviation of the masses; Queen Clotilda, leading her husband and three thousand of his armed warriors to Christian baptism; Elizabeth of Burgundy, giving her jeweled glove to a beggar, and scattering great fortunes among the distressed; Prince Albert, singing "Rock of Ages" in Windsor Castle, and Queen Victoria, incognita, reading the Scriptures to a dying pauper. I bless God that the day is coming when royalty will bring all its thrones, and music all its harmonies, and painting all its pictures, and sculpture all its statuary, and architecture all its pillars, and conquest all its scepters; and the queens of the earth, in long line of advance, frankincense filling the air and the camels laden with gold, shall approach Jerusalem, and the gates shall be hoisted, and the great burden of splendor shall be lifted into the palace of this greater than Solomon. Again, my subject teaches me what is earnestness in the search of truth. Do you know where Sheba was? It was in Abyssinia, or some say in the southern part of Arabia Felix. In either case it was a great way off from Jerusalem. To get from there to Jerusalem she had to cross a country infested with bandits, and go across blistering deserts. Why did not the Queen of Sheba stay at home and send a committee to inquire about this new religion, and have the delegates report in regard to that religion and wealth of King Solomon? She wanted to see for herself, and hear for herself. She could not do this by work of committee. She felt she had a soul worth ten thousand kingdoms like Sheba, and she wanted a robe richer than any woven by Oriental shuttles, and she wanted a crown set with the jewels of eternity. Bring out the camels. Put on the spices. Gather up the jewels of the throne and put them on the caravan. Start now; no time to be lost. Goad on the camels. When I see that caravan, dust-covered, weary, and exhausted, trudging on across the desert and among the bandits until it reaches Jerusalem, I say: "There is an earnest seeker after the truth." But there are a great many of you, my friends, who do not act in that way. You all want to get the truth, but you want the truth to come to-you; you do not want to go to it. There are people who fold their arms and say: "I am ready to become a Christian at any time; if I am to be saved I shall be saved, and if I am to be lost I shall be lost." A man who says that and keeps on saying it, will be lost. Jerusalem will never come to you; you must go to Jerusalem. The religion of the Lord Jesus Christ will not come to you; you must go and get religion. Bring out the camels; put on all the sweet spices, all the treasures of the heart's affection. Start for the throne. Go in and hear the waters of salvation dashing in fountains all around about the throne. Sit down at the banquet--the wine pressed from the grapes of the heavenly Eschol, the angels of God the cup-bearers. Goad on the camels; Jerusalem will never come to you; you must go to Jerusalem. The Bible declares it: "The Queen of the South"--that is, this very woman I am speaking of--"the Queen of the South shall rise up in judgment against this generation and condemn it; for she came from the uttermost parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon: and, behold! a greater than Solomon is here." God help me to break up the infatuation of those people who are sitting down in idleness expecting to be saved. "Strive to enter in at the strait gate. Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you." Take the Kingdom of Heaven by violence. Urge on the camels! Again, my subject impresses me with the fact that religion is a surprise to any one that gets it. This story of the new religion in Jerusalem, and of the glory of King Solomon, who was a type of Christ--that story rolls on and on, and is told by every traveler coming back from Jerusalem. The news goes on the wing of every ship and with every caravan, and you know a story enlarges as it is retold, and by the time that story gets down into the southern part of Arabia Felix, and the Queen of Sheba hears it, it must be a tremendous story. And yet this queen declares in regard to it, although she had heard so much and had her anticipations raised so high, the half--the half was not told her. So religion is always a surprise to any one that gets it. The story of grace--an old story. Apostles preached it with rattle of chain; martyrs declared it with arm of fire; death-beds have affirmed it with visions of glory, and ministers of religion have sounded it through the lanes, and the highways, and the chapels, and the cathedrals. It has been cut into stone with chisel, and spread on the canvas with pencil; and it has been recited in the doxology of great congregations. And yet when a man first comes to look on the palace of God's mercy, and to see the royalty of Christ, and the wealth of this banquet, and the luxuriance of His attendants, and the loveliness of His face, and the joy of His service, he exclaims with prayers, with tears, with sighs, with triumphs: "The half--the half was not told me!" I appeal to those in this house who are Christians. Compare the idea you had of the joy of the Christian life before you became a Christian with the appreciation of that joy you have now since you have become a Christian, and you are willing to attest before angels and men that you never in the days of your spiritual bondage had any appreciation of what was to come. You are ready to-day to answer, and if I gave you an opportunity in the midst of this assemblage, you would speak out and say in regard to the discoveries you have made of the mercy and the grace and the goodness of God: "The half--the half was not told me!" Well, we hear a great deal about the good time that is coming to this world, when it is to be girded with salvation. Holiness on the bells of the horses. The lion's mane patted by the hand of a babe. Ships of Tarshish bringing cargoes for Jesus, and the hard, dry, barren, winter-bleached, storm-scarred, thunder-split rock breaking into floods of bright water. Deserts into which dromedaries thrust their nostrils, because they were afraid of the simoom--deserts blooming into carnation roses and silver-tipped lilies. It is the old story. Everybody tells it. Isaiah told it, John told it, Paul told it, Ezekiel told it, Luther told it, Calvin told it, John Milton told it--everybody tells it; and yet--and yet when the midnight shall fly the hills, and Christ shall marshal His great army, and China, dashing her idols into the dust, shall hear the voice of God and wheel into line; and India, destroying her Juggernaut and snatching up her little children from the Ganges, shall hear the voice of God and wheel into line; and vine-covered Italy, and wheat-crowned Russia, and all the nations of the earth shall hear the voice of God and fall into line; then the Church, which has been toiling and struggling through the centuries, robed and garlanded like a bride adorned for her husband, shall put aside her veil and look up into the face of her Lord the King, and say: "The half--the half was not told me." Well, there is coming a greater surprise to every Christian--a greater surprise than anything I have depicted. Heaven is an old story. Everybody talks about it. There is hardly a hymn in the hymn-book that does not refer to it. Children read about it in their Sabbath-school book. Aged men put on their spectacles to study it. We say it is a harbor from the storm. We call it our home. We say it is the house of many mansions. We weave together all sweet, beautiful, delicate, exhilarant words; we weave them into letters, and then we spell it out in rose and lily and amaranth. And yet that place is going to be a surprise to the most intelligent Christian. Like the Queen of Sheba, the report has come to us from the far country, and many of us have started. It is a desert march, but we urge on the camels. What though our feet be blistered with the way? We are hastening to the palace. We take all our loves and hopes and Christian ambitions, as frankincense and myrrh and cassia, to the great King. We must not rest. We must not halt. The night is coming on, and it is not safe out here in the desert. Urge on the camels. I see the domes against the sky, and the houses of Lebanon, and the temples and the gardens. See the fountains dance in the sun, and the gates flash as they open to let in the poor pilgrims. Send the word up to the palace that we are coming, and that we are weary of the march of the desert. The King will come out and say: "Welcome to the palace; bathe in these waters, recline on these banks. Take this cinnamon and frankincense and myrrh and put it upon a censer and swing it before the altar." And yet, my friends, when heaven bursts upon us it will be a greater surprise than that--Jesus on the throne, and we made like Him! All our Christian friends surrounding us in glory! All our sorrows and tears and sins gone by forever! The thousands of thousands, the one hundred and forty-and-four thousand, the great multitudes that no man can number, will cry, world without end: "The half--the half was not told us!" VICARIOUS SUFFERING. "Without shedding of blood is no remission."--HEB. ix: 22. John G. Whittier, the last of the great school of American poets that made the last quarter of a century brilliant, asked me in the White Mountains, one morning after prayers, in which I had given out Cowper's famous hymn about "The Fountain Filled with Blood," "Do you really believe there is a literal application of the blood of Christ to the soul?" My negative reply then is my negative reply now. The Bible statement agrees with all physicians, and all physiologists, and all scientists, in saying that the blood is the life, and in the Christian religion it means simply that Christ's life was given for our life. Hence all this talk of men who say the Bible story of blood is disgusting, and that they don't want what they call a "slaughter-house religion," only shows their incapacity or unwillingness to look through the figure of speech toward the thing signified. The blood that, on the darkest Friday the world ever saw, oozed, or trickled, or poured from the brow, and the side, and the hands, and the feet of the illustrious sufferer, back of Jerusalem, in a few hours coagulated and dried up, and forever disappeared; and if man had depended on the application of the literal blood of Christ, there would not have been a soul saved for the last eighteen centuries. In order to understand this red word of my text, we only have to exercise as much common sense in religion as we do in everything else. Pang for pang, hunger for hunger, fatigue for fatigue, tear for tear, blood for blood, life for life, we see every day illustrated. The act of substitution is no novelty, although I hear men talk as though the idea of Christ's suffering substituted for our suffering were something abnormal, something distressingly odd, something wildly eccentric, a solitary episode in the world's history; when I could take you out into this city, and before sundown point you to five hundred cases of substitution and voluntary suffering of one in behalf of another. At two o'clock to-morrow afternoon go among the places of business or toil. It will be no difficult thing for you to find men who, by their looks, show you that they are overworked. They are prematurely old. They are hastening rapidly toward their decease. They have gone through crises in business that shattered their nervous system, and pulled on the brain. They have a shortness of breath, and a pain in the back of the head, and at night an insomnia that alarms them. Why are they drudging at business early and late? For fun? No; it would be difficult to extract any amusement out of that exhaustion. Because they are avaricious? In many cases no. Because their own personal expenses are lavish? No; a few hundred dollars would meet all their wants. The simple fact is, the man is enduring all that fatigue and exasperation, and wear and tear, to keep his home prosperous. There is an invisible line reaching from that store, from that bank, from that shop, from that scaffolding, to a quiet scene a few blocks, a few miles away, and there is the secret of that business endurance. He is simply the champion of a homestead, for which he wins bread, and wardrobe, and education, and prosperity, and in such battle ten thousand men fall. Of ten business men whom I bury, nine die of overwork for others. Some sudden disease finds them with no power of resistance, and they are gone. Life for life. Blood for blood. Substitution! At one o'clock to-morrow morning, the hour when slumber is most uninterrupted and most profound, walk amid the dwelling-houses of the city. Here and there you will find a dim light, because it is the household custom to keep a subdued light burning: but most of the houses from base to top are as dark as though uninhabited. A merciful God has sent forth the archangel of sleep, and he puts his wings over the city. But yonder is a clear light burning, and outside on the window casement a glass or pitcher containing food for a sick child; the food is set in the fresh air. This is the sixth night that mother has sat up with that sufferer. She has to the last point obeyed the physician's prescription, not giving a drop too much or too little, or a moment too soon or too late. She is very anxious, for she has buried three children with the same disease, and she prays and weeps, each prayer and sob ending with a kiss of the pale cheek. By dint of kindness she gets the little one through the ordeal. After it is all over, the mother is taken down. Brain or nervous fever sets in, and one day she leaves the convalescent child with a mother's blessing, and goes up to join the three in the kingdom of heaven. Life for life. Substitution! The fact is that there are an uncounted number of mothers who, after they have navigated a large family of children through all the diseases of infancy, and got them fairly started up the flowering slope of boyhood and girlhood, have only strength enough left to die. They fade away. Some call it consumption; some call it nervous prostration; some call it intermittent or malarial disposition; but I call it martyrdom of the domestic circle. Life for life. Blood for blood. Substitution! Or perhaps the mother lingers long enough to see a son get on the wrong road, and his former kindness becomes rough reply when she expresses anxiety about him. But she goes right on, looking carefully after his apparel, remembering his every birthday with some memento, and when he is brought home worn out with dissipation, nurses him till he gets well and starts him again, and hopes, and expects, and prays, and counsels, and suffers, until her strength gives out and she fails. She is going, and attendants, bending over her pillow, ask her if she has any message to leave, and she makes great effort to say something, but out of three or four minutes of indistinct utterance they can catch but three words: "My poor boy!" The simple fact is she died for him. Life for life. Substitution! About twenty-four years ago there went forth from our homes hundreds of thousands of men to do battle for their country. All the poetry of war soon vanished, and left them nothing but the terrible prose. They waded knee-deep in mud. They slept in snow-banks. They marched till their cut feet tracked the earth. They were swindled out of their honest rations, and lived on meat not fit for a dog. They had jaws all fractured, and eyes extinguished, and limbs shot away. Thousands of them cried for water as they lay dying on the field the night after the battle, and got it not. They were homesick, and received no message from their loved ones. They died in barns, in bushes, in ditches, the buzzards of the summer heat the only attendants on their obsequies. No one but the infinite God who knows everything, knows the ten thousandth part of the length, and breadth, and depth, and height of anguish of the Northern and Southern battlefields. Why did these fathers leave their children and go to the front, and why did these young men, postponing the marriage-day, start out into the probabilities of never coming back? For the country they died. Life for life. Blood for blood. Substitution! But we need not go so far. What is that monument in Greenwood? It is to the doctors who fell in the Southern epidemics. Why go? Were there not enough sick to be attended in these Northern latitudes? Oh, yes; but the doctor puts a few medical books in his valise, and some vials of medicine, and leaves his patients here in the hands of other physicians, and takes the rail-train. Before he gets to the infected regions he passes crowded rail-trains, regular and extra, taking the flying and affrighted populations. He arrives in a city over which a great horror is brooding. He goes from couch to couch, feeling of pulse and studying symptoms, and prescribing day after day, night after night, until a fellow-physician says: "Doctor, you had better go home and rest; you look miserable." But he can not rest while so many are suffering. On and on, until some morning finds him in a delirium, in which he talks of home, and then rises and says he must go and look after those patients. He is told to lie down; but he fights his attendants until he falls back, and is weaker and weaker, and dies for people with whom he had no kinship, and far away from his own family, and is hastily put away in a stranger's tomb, and only the fifth part of a newspaper line tells us of his sacrifice--his name just mentioned among five. Yet he has touched the furthest height of sublimity in that three weeks of humanitarian service. He goes straight as an arrow to the bosom of Him who said: "I was sick and ye visited Me." Life for life. Blood for blood. Substitution! In the legal profession I see the same principle of self-sacrifice. In 1846, William Freeman, a pauperized and idiotic negro, was at Auburn, N.Y., on trial for murder. He had slain the entire Van Nest family. The foaming wrath of the community could be kept off him only by armed constables. Who would volunteer to be his counsel? No attorney wanted to sacrifice his popularity by such an ungrateful task. All were silent save one, a young lawyer with feeble voice, that could hardly be heard outside the bar, pale and thin and awkward. It was William H. Seward, who saw that the prisoner was idiotic and irresponsible, and ought to be put in an asylum rather than put to death, the heroic counsel uttering these beautiful words: "I speak now in the hearing of a people who have prejudged prisoner and condemned me for pleading in his behalf. He is a convict, a pauper, a negro, without intellect, sense, or emotion. My child with an affectionate smile disarms my care-worn face of its frown whenever I cross my threshold. The beggar in the street obliges me to give because he says, 'God bless you!' as I pass. My dog caresses me with fondness if I will but smile on him. My horse recognizes me when I fill his manger. What reward, what gratitude, what sympathy and affection can I expect here? There the prisoner sits. Look at him. Look at the assemblage around you. Listen to their ill-suppressed censures and their excited fears, and tell me where among my neighbors or my fellow-men, where, even in his heart, I can expect to find a sentiment, a thought, not to say of reward or of acknowledgment, or even of recognition? Gentlemen, you may think of this evidence what you please, bring in what verdict you can, but I asseverate before Heaven and you, that, to the best of my knowledge and belief, the prisoner at the bar does not at this moment know why it is that my shadow falls on you instead of his own." The gallows got its victim, but the post-mortem examination of the poor creature showed to all the surgeons and to all the world that the public were wrong, and William H. Seward was right, and that hard, stony step of obloquy in the Auburn court-room was the first step of the stairs of fame up which he went to the top, or to within one step of the top, that last denied him through the treachery of American politics. Nothing sublimer was ever seen in an American court-room than William H. Seward, without reward, standing between the fury of the populace and the loathsome imbecile. Substitution! In the realm of the fine arts there was as remarkable an instance. A brilliant but hypercriticised painter, Joseph William Turner, was met by a volley of abuse from all the art galleries of Europe. His paintings, which have since won the applause of all civilized nations, "The Fifth Plague of Egypt," "Fishermen on a Lee Shore in Squally Weather," "Calais Pier," "The Sun Rising Through Mist," and "Dido Building Carthage," were then targets for critics to shoot at. In defense of this outrageously abused man, a young author of twenty-four years, just one year out of college, came forth with his pen, and wrote the ablest and most famous essays on art that the world ever saw, or ever will see--John Ruskin's "Modern Painters." For seventeen years this author fought the battles of the maltreated artist, and after, in poverty and broken-heartedness, the painter had died, and the public tried to undo their cruelties toward him by giving him a big funeral and burial at St. Paul's Cathedral, his old-time friend took out of a tin box nineteen thousand pieces of paper containing drawings by the old painter, and through many weary and uncompensated months assorted and arranged them for public observation. People say John Ruskin in his old days is cross, misanthropic, and morbid. Whatever he may do that he ought not to do, and whatever he may say that he ought not to say between now and his death, he will leave this world insolvent as far as it has any capacity to pay this author's pen for its chivalric and Christian defense of a poor painter's pencil. John Ruskin for William Turner. Blood for blood. Substitution! What an exalting principle this which leads one to suffer for another! Nothing so kindles enthusiasm or awakens eloquence, or chimes poetic canto, or moves nations. The principle is the dominant one in our religion--Christ the Martyr, Christ the celestial Hero, Christ the Defender, Christ the Substitute. No new principle, for it was as old as human nature; but now on a grander, wider, higher, deeper, and more world-resounding scale! The shepherd boy as a champion for Israel with a sling toppled the giant of Philistine braggadocio in the dust; but here is another David who, for all the armies of churches militant and triumphant, hurls the Goliath of perdition into defeat, the crash of his brazen armor like an explosion at Hell Gate. Abraham had at God's command agreed to sacrifice his son Isaac, and the same God just in time had provided a ram of the thicket as a substitute; but here is another Isaac bound to the altar, and no hand arrests the sharp edges of laceration and death, and the universe shivers and quakes and recoils and groans at the horror. All good men have for centuries been trying to tell whom this Substitute was like, and every comparison, inspired and uninspired, evangelistic, prophetic, apostolic, and human, falls short, for Christ was the Great Unlike. Adam a type of Christ, because he came directly from God; Noah a type of Christ, because he delivered his own family from deluge; Melchisedec a type of Christ, because he had no predecessor or successor; Joseph a type of Christ, because he was cast out by his brethren; Moses a type of Christ, because he was a deliverer from bondage; Joshua a type of Christ, because he was a conqueror; Samson a type of Christ, because of his strength to slay the lions and carry off the iron gates of impossibility; Solomon a type of Christ, in the affluence of his dominion; Jonah a type of Christ, because of the stormy sea in which he threw himself for the rescue of others; but put together Adam and Noah and Melchisedec and Joseph and Moses and Joshua and Samson and Solomon and Jonah, and they would not make a fragment of a Christ, a quarter of a Christ, the half of a Christ, or the millionth part of a Christ. He forsook a throne and sat down on His own footstool. He came from the top of glory to the bottom of humiliation, and changed a circumference seraphic for a circumference diabolic. Once waited on by angels, now hissed at by brigands. From afar and high up He came down; past meteors swifter than they; by starry thrones, Himself more lustrous; past larger worlds to smaller worlds; down stairs of firmaments, and from cloud to cloud, and through tree-tops and into the earners stall, to thrust His shoulder under our burdens and take the lances of pain through His vitals, and wrapped himself in all the agonies which we deserve for our misdoings, and stood on the splitting decks of a foundering vessel, amid the drenching surf of the sea, and passed midnights on the mountains amid wild beasts of prey, and stood at the point where all earthly and infernal hostilities charged on Him at once with their keen sabers--our Substitute! When did attorney ever endure so much for a pauper client, or physician for the patient in the lazaretto, or mother for the child in membranous croup, as Christ for us, and Christ for you, and Christ for me? Shall any man or woman or child in this audience who has ever suffered for another find it hard to understand this Christly suffering for us? Shall those whose sympathies have been wrung in behalf of the unfortunate have no appreciation of that one moment which was lifted out of all the ages of eternity as most conspicuous, when Christ gathered up all the sins of those to be redeemed under His one arm, and all their sorrows under His other arm, and said: "I will atone for these under my right arm, and will heal all those under my left arm. Strike me with all thy glittering shafts, O Eternal Justice! Roll over me with all thy surges, ye oceans of sorrow"? And the thunderbolts struck Him from above, and the seas of trouble rolled up from beneath, hurricane after hurricane, and cyclone after cyclone, and then and there in presence of heaven and earth and hell, yea, all worlds witnessing, the price, the bitter price, the transcendent price, the awful price, the glorious price, the infinite price, the eternal price, was paid that sets us free. That is what Paul means, that is what I mean, that is what all those who have ever had their heart changed mean by "blood." I glory in this religion of blood! I am thrilled as I see the suggestive color in sacramental cup, whether it be of burnished silver set on cloth immaculately white, or rough-hewn from wood set on table in log-hut meeting-house of the wilderness. Now I am thrilled as I see the altars of ancient sacrifice crimson with the blood of the slain lamb, and Leviticus is to me not so much the Old Testament as the New. Now I see why the destroying angel passing over Egypt in the night spared all those houses that had blood sprinkled on their door-posts. Now I know what Isaiah means when he speaks of "one in red apparel coming with dyed garments from Bozrah;" and whom the Apocalypse means when it describes a heavenly chieftain whose "vesture was dipped in blood;" and what Peter, the apostle, means when he speaks of the "precious blood that cleanseth from all sin;" and what the old, worn-out, decrepit missionary Paul means when, in my text, he cries, "Without shedding of blood is no remission." By that blood you and I will be saved--or never saved at all. In all the ages of the world God has not once pardoned a single sin except through the Saviour's expiation, and He never will. Glory be to God that the hill back of Jerusalem was the battle-field on which Christ achieved our liberty! The most exciting and overpowering day of last summer was the day I spent on the battle-field of Waterloo. Starting out with the morning train from Brussels, Belgium, we arrived in about an hour on that famous spot. A son of one who was in the battle, and who had heard from his father a thousand times the whole scene recited, accompanied us over the field. There stood the old Hougomont Château, the walls dented, and scratched, and broken, and shattered by grape-shot and cannon-ball. There is the well in which three hundred dying and dead were pitched. There is the chapel with the head of the infant Christ shot off. There are the gates at which, for many hours, English and French armies wrestled. Yonder were the one hundred and sixty guns of the English, and the two hundred and fifty guns of the French. Yonder the Hanoverian Hussars fled for the woods. Yonder was the ravine of Ohain, where the French cavalry, not knowing there was a hollow in the ground, rolled over and down, troop after troop, tumbling into one awful mass of suffering, hoof of kicking horses against brow and breast of captains and colonels and private soldiers, the human and the beastly groan kept up until, the day after, all was shoveled under because of the malodor arising in that hot month of June. "There," said our guide, "the Highland regiments lay down on their faces waiting for the moment to spring upon the foe. In that orchard twenty-five hundred men were cut to pieces. Here stood Wellington with white lips, and up that knoll rode Marshal Ney on his sixth horse, five having been shot under him. Here the ranks of the French broke, and Marshal Ney, with his boot slashed of a sword, and his hat off, and his face covered with powder and blood, tried to rally his troops as he cried: 'Come and see how a marshal of French dies on the battle-field.' From yonder direction Grouchy was expected for the French re-enforcement, but he came not. Around those woods Blucher was looked for to re-enforce the English, and just in time he came up. Yonder is the field where Napoleon stood, his arm through the reins of the horse's bridle, dazed and insane, trying to go back." Scene of a battle that went on from twenty-five minutes to twelve o'clock, on the eighteenth of June, until four o'clock, when the English seemed defeated, and their commander cried out; "Boys, can you think of giving way? Remember old England!" and the tides turned, and at eight o'clock in the evening the man of destiny, who was called by his troops Old Two Hundred Thousand, turned away with broken heart, and the fate of centuries was decided. No wonder a great mound has been reared there, hundreds of feet high--a mound at the expense of millions of dollars and many years in rising, and on the top is the great Belgian lion of bronze, and a grand old lion it is. But our great Waterloo was in Palestine. There came a day when all hell rode up, led by Apollyon, and the Captain of our salvation confronted them alone. The Rider on the white horse of the Apocalypse going out against the black horse cavalry of death, and the battalions of the demoniac, and the myrmidons of darkness. From twelve o'clock at noon to three o'clock in the afternoon the greatest battle of the universe went on. Eternal destinies were being decided. All the arrows of hell pierced our Chieftain, and the battle-axes struck Him, until brow and cheek and shoulder and hand and foot were incarnadined with oozing life; but He fought on until He gave a final stroke with sword from Jehovah's buckler, and the commander-in-chief of hell and all his forces fell back in everlasting ruin, and the victory is ours. And on the mound that celebrates the triumph we plant this day two figures, not in bronze or iron or sculptured marble, but two figures of living light, the Lion of Judah's tribe and the Lamb that was slain. POSTHUMOUS OPPORTUNITY. "If the tree fall toward the south or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth there it shall be."--ECCLES. xi: 3. There is a hovering hope in the minds of a vast multitude that there will be an opportunity in the next world to correct the mistakes of this; that, if we do make complete shipwreck of our earthly life, it will be on a shore up which we may walk to a palace; that, as a defendant may lose his case in the Circuit Court, and carry it up to the Supreme Court or Court of Chancery and get a reversal of judgment in his behalf, all the costs being thrown over on the other party, so, if we fail in the earthly trial, we may in the higher jurisdiction of eternity have the judgment of the lower court set aside, all the costs remitted, and we may be victorious defendants forever. My object in this sermon is to show that common sense, as well as my text, declares that such an expectation is chimerical. You say that the impenitent man, having got into the next world and seeing the disaster, will, as a result of that disaster, turn, the pain the cause of his reformation. But you can find ten thousand instances in this world of men who have done wrong and distress overtook them suddenly. Did the distress heal them? No; they went right on. That man was flung of dissipations. "You must stop drinking," said the doctor, "and quit the fast life you are leading, or it will destroy you.". The patient suffers paroxysm after paroxysm; but, under skillful medical treatment, he begins to sit up, begins to walk about the room, begins to go to business. And, lo! he goes back to the same grog-shops for his morning dram, and his even dram, and the drams between. Flat down again! Same doctor. Same physical anguish. Same medical warning. Now, the illness is more protracted; the liver is more stubborn, the stomach more irritable, and the digestive organs are more rebellious. But after awhile he is out again, goes back to the same dram-shops, and goes the same round of sacrilege against his physical health. He sees that his downward course is ruining his household, that his life is a perpetual perjury against his marriage vow, that that broken-hearted woman is so unlike the roseate young wife that he married, that her old schoolmates do not recognize her; that his sons are to be taunted for a life-time by the father's drunkenness, that the daughters are to pass into life under the scarification of a disreputable ancestor. He is drinking up their happiness, their prospects for this life, and, perhaps, for the life to come. Sometimes an appreciation of what he is doing comes upon him. His nervous system is all a tangle. From crown of head to sole of foot he is one aching, rasping, crucifying, damning torture. Where is he? In hell on earth. Does it reform him? After awhile he has delirium tremens, with a whole jungle of hissing reptiles let out on his pillow, and his screams horrify the neighbors as he dashes out of his bed, crying: "Take these things off me!" As he sits, pale and convalescent, the doctor says: "Now I want to have a plain talk with you, my dear fellow. The next attack of this kind you will have you will be beyond all medical skill, and you will die." He gets better and goes forth into the same round again. This time medicine takes no effect. Consultation of physicians agree in saying there is no hope. Death ends the scene. That process of inebriation, warning, and dissolution is going on within stone's throw of this church, going on in all the neighborhoods of Christendom. Pain does not correct. Suffering does not reform. What is true in one sense is true in all senses, and will forever be so, and yet men are expecting in the next world purgatorial rejuvenation. Take up the printed reports of the prisons of the United States, and you will find that the vast majority of the incarcerated have been there before, some of them four, five, six times. With a million illustrations all working the other way in this world, people are expecting that distress in the next state will be salvatory. You can not imagine any worse torture in any other world than that which some men have suffered here, and without any salutary consequence. Furthermore, the prospect of a reformation in the next world is more improbable than a reformation here. In this world the life started with innocence of infancy. In the case supposed the other life will open with all the accumulated bad habits of many years upon him. Surely, it is easier to build a strong ship out of new timber than out of an old hulk that has been ground up in the breakers. If with innocence to start with in this life a man does not become godly, what prospect is there that in the next world, starting with sin, there would be a seraph evoluted? Surely the sculptor has more prospect of making a fine statue out of a block of pure white Parian marble than out of an old black rock seamed and cracked with the storms of a half century. Surely upon a clean, white sheet of paper it is easier to write a deed or a will than upon a sheet of paper all scribbled and blotted and torn from top to bottom. Yet men seem to think that, though the life that began here comparatively perfect turned out badly, the next life will succeed, though it starts with a dead failure. "But," says some one, "I think we ought to have a chance in the next life, because this life is so short it allows only small opportunity. We hardly have time to turn around between cradle and tomb, the wood of the one almost touching the marble of the other." But do you know what made the ancient deluge a necessity? It was the longevity of the antediluvians. They were worse in the second century of their life-time than in the first hundred years, and still worse in the third century, and still worse all the way on to seven, eight, and nine hundred years, and the earth had to be washed, and scrubbed, and soaked, and anchored, clear out of sight for more than a month before it could be made fit for decent people to live in. Longevity never cures impenitency. All the pictures of Time represent him with a scythe to cut, but I never saw any picture of Time with a case of medicines to heal. Seneca says that Nero for the first five years of his public life was set up for an example of clemency and kindness, but his path all the way descended until at sixty-eight he became a suicide. If eight hundred years did not make antediluvians any better, but only made them worse, the ages of eternity could have no effect except prolongation of depravity. "But," says some one, "in the future state evil surroundings will be withdrawn and elevated influences substituted, and hence expurgation, and sublimation, and glorification." But the righteous, all their sins forgiven, have passed on into a beatific state, and consequently the unsaved will be left alone. It can not be expected that Doctor Duff, who exhausted himself in teaching Hindoos the way to heaven, and Doctor Abeel, who gave his life in the evangelization of China, and Adoniram Judson, who toiled for the redemption of Borneo, should be sent down by some celestial missionary society to educate those who wasted all their earthly existence. Evangelistic and missionary efforts are ended. The entire kingdom of the morally bankrupt by themselves, where are the salvatory influences to come from? Can one speckled and bad apple in a barrel of diseased apples turn the other apples good? Can those who are themselves down help others up? Can those who have themselves failed in the business of the soul pay the debts of their spiritual insolvents? Can a million wrongs make one right? Poneropolis was a city where King Philip of Thracia put all the bad people of his kingdom. If any man had opened a primary school at Poneropolis I do not think the parents from other cities would have sent their children there. Instead of amendment in the other world, all the associations, now that the good are evolved, will be degenerating and down. You would not want to send a man to a cholera or yellow fever hospital for his health; and the great lazaretto of the next world, containing the diseased and plague-struck, will be a poor place for moral recovery. If the surroundings in this world were crowded of temptation, the surroundings of the next world, after the righteous have passed up and on, will be a thousand per cent. more crowded of temptation. The Count of Chateaubriand made his little son sleep at night at the top of a castle turret, where the winds howled and where specters were said to haunt the place; and while the mother and sisters almost died with fright, the son tells us that the process gave him nerves that could not tremble and a courage that never faltered. But I don't think that towers of darkness and the spectral world swept by Sirocco and Euroclydon will ever fit one for the land of eternal sunshine. I wonder what is the curriculum of that college of Inferno, where, after proper preparation by the sins of this life, the candidate enters, passing on from freshman class of depravity to sophomore of abandonment, and from sophomore to junior, and from junior to senior, and day of graduation comes, and with diploma signed by Satan, the president, and other professorial demoniacs, attesting that the candidate has been long enough under their drill, he passes up to enter heaven! Pandemonium a preparative course for heavenly admission! Ah, my friends, Satan and his cohorts have fitted uncounted multitudes for ruin, but never fitted one soul for happiness. Furthermore, it would not be safe for this world if men had another chance in the next. If it had been announced that, however wickedly a man might act in this world, he could fix it up all right in the next, society would be terribly demoralized, and the human race demolished in a few years. The fear that, if we are bad and unforgiven here, it will not be well for us in the next existence, is the chief influence that keeps civilization from rushing back to semi-barbarism, and semi-barbarism from rushing into midnight savagery, and midnight savagery from extinction; for it is the astringent impression of all nations, Christian and heathen, that there is no future chance for those who have wasted this. Multitudes of men who are kept within bounds would say, "Go to, now! Let me get all out of this life there is in it. Come, gluttony, and inebriation, and uncleanness, and revenge, and all sensualities, and wait upon me! My life may be somewhat shortened in this world by dissoluteness, but that will only make heavenly indulgence on a larger scale the sooner possible. I will overtake the saints at last, and will enter the Heavenly Temple only a little later than those who behaved themselves here. I will on my way to heaven take a little wider excursion than those who were on earth pious, and I shall go to heaven _via_ Gehenna and _via_ Sheol." Another chance in the next world means free license and wild abandonment in this. Suppose you were a party in an important case at law, and you knew from consultation with judges and attorneys that it would be tried twice, and the first trial would be of little importance, but that the second would decide everything; for which trial would you make the most preparation, for which retain the ablest attorneys, for which be most anxious about the attendance of witnesses? You would put all the stress upon the second trial, all the anxiety, all the expenditure, saying, "The first is nothing, the last is everything." Give the race assurance of a second and more important trial in the subsequent life, and all the preparation for eternity would be _post-mortem_, post-funeral, post-sepulchral, and the world with one jerk be pitched off into impiety and godlessness. Furthermore, let me ask why a chance should be given in the next world if we have refused innumerable chances in this? Suppose you give a banquet, and you invite a vast number of friends, but one man declines to come, or treats your invitation with indifference. You in the course of twenty years give twenty banquets, and the same man is invited to them all, and treats them all in the same obnoxious way. After awhile you remove to another house, larger and better, and you again invite your friends, but send no invitation to the man who declined or neglected the other invitations. Are you to blame? Has he a right to expect to be invited after all the indignities he has done you? God in this world has invited us all to the banquet of His grace. He invited us by His Providence and His Spirit three hundred and sixty-five days of every year since we knew our right hand from our left. If we declined it every time, or treated the invitation with indifference, and gave twenty or forty or fifty years of indignity on our part toward the Banqueter, and at last He spreads the banquet in a more luxurious and kingly place, amid the heavenly gardens, have we a right to expect Him to invite us again, and have we a right to blame Him if He does not invite us? If twelve gates of salvation stood open twenty years or fifty years for our admission, and at the end of that time they are closed, can we complain of it and say, "These gates ought to be open again. Give us another chance"? If the steamer is to sail for Hamburg, and we want to get to Germany by that line, and we read in every evening and every morning newspaper that it will sail on a certain day, for two weeks we have that advertisement before our eyes, and then we go down to the docks fifteen minutes after it has shoved off into the stream and say: "Come back. Give me another chance. It is not fair to treat me in this way. Swing up to the dock again, and throw out planks, and let me come on board." Such behavior would invite arrest as a madman. And if, after the Gospel ship has lain at anchor before our eyes for years and years, and all the benign voices of earth and heaven have urged us to get on board, as she might sail away at any moment, and after awhile she sails without us, is it common sense to expect her to come back? You might as well go out on the Highlands at Neversink and call to the "Aurania" after she has been three days out, and expect her to return, as to call back an opportunity for heaven when it once has sped away. All heaven offered us as a gratuity, and for a life-time we refuse to take it, and then rush on the bosses of Jehovah's buckler demanding another chance. There ought to be, there can be, there will be no such thing as posthumous opportunity. Thus, our common sense agrees with my text--"If the tree fall toward the south, or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be." You see that this idea lifts this world up from an unimportant way-station to a platform of stupendous issues, and makes all eternity whirl around this hour. But one trial for which all the preparation must be made in this world, or never made at all. That piles up all the emphases and all the climaxes and all the destinies into life here. No other chance! Oh, how that augments the value and the importance of this chance! Alexander with his army used to surround a city, and then would lift a great light in token to the people that, if they surrendered before that light went out, all would be well; but if once the light went out, then the battering-rams would swing against the wall, and demolition and disaster would follow. Well, all we need do for our present and everlasting safety is to make surrender to Christ, the King and Conqueror--surrender of our hearts, surrender of our lives, surrender of everything. And He keeps a great light burning, light of Gospel invitation, light kindled with the wood of the cross and flaming up against the dark night of our sin and sorrow. Surrender while that great light continues to burn, for after it goes out there will be no other opportunity of making peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Talk of another chance! Why, this is a supernal chance! In the time of Edward the Sixth, at the battle of Musselburgh, a private soldier, seeing that the Earl of Huntley had lost his helmet, took off his own helmet and put it upon the head of the earl; and the head of the private soldier uncovered, he was soon slain, while his commander rode safely out of the battle. But in our case, instead of a private soldier offering helmet to an earl, it is a King putting His crown upon an unworthy subject, the King dying that we might live. Tell it to all points of the compass. Tell it to night and day. Tell it to all earth and heaven. Tell it to all centuries, all ages, all millenniums, that we have such a magnificent chance in this world that we need no other chance in the next. I am in the burnished Judgment Hall of the Last Day. A great white throne is lifted, but the Judge has not yet taken it. While we are waiting for His arrival I hear immortal spirits in conversation. "What are you waiting here for?" says a soul that went up from Madagascar to a soul that ascended from America. The latter says: "I came from America, where forty years I heard the Gospel preached, and Bible read, and from the prayer that I learned in infancy at my mother's knee until my last hour I had Gospel advantage, but, for some reason, I did not make the Christian choice, and I am here waiting for the Judge to give me a new trial and another chance." "Strange!" says the other; "I had but one Gospel call in Madagascar, and I accepted it, and I do not need another chance." "Why are you here?" says one who on earth had feeblest intellect to one who had great brain, and silvery tongue, and scepters of influence. The latter responds: "Oh, I knew more than my fellows. I mastered libraries, and had learned titles from colleges, and my name was a synonym for eloquence and power. And yet I neglected my soul, and I am here waiting for a new trial." "Strange," says the one of the feeble earthly capacity; "I knew but little of worldly knowledge, but I knew Christ, and made Him my partner, and I have no need of another chance." Now the ground trembles with the approaching chariot. The great folding-doors of the Hall swing open. "Stand back!" cry the celestial ushers. "Stand back, and let the Judge of quick and dead pass through!" He takes the throne, and, looking over the throng of nations, He says: "Come to judgment, the last judgment, the only judgment!" By one flash from the throne all the history of each one flames forth to the vision of himself and all others. "Divide!" says the Judge to the assembly. "Divide!" echo the walls. "Divide!" cry the guards angelic. And now the immortals separate, rushing this way and that, and after awhile there is a great aisle between them, and a great vacuum widening and widening, and the Judge, turning to the throng on one side, says: "He that is righteous, let him be righteous still, and he that is holy, let him be holy still;" and then, turning toward the throng on the opposite side, He says: "He that is unjust, let him be unjust still, and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still;" and then, lifting one hand toward each group, He declares: "If the tree fall toward the south or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be." And then I hear something jar with a great sound. It is the closing of the Book of Judgment. The Judge ascends the stairs behind the throne. The hall of the last assize is cleared and shut. The high court of eternity is adjourned forever. THE LORD'S RAZOR. "In the same day shall the Lord shave with a razor that is hired, namely, by them beyond the river, by the King of Assyria."--ISAIAH vii: 20. The Bible is the boldest book ever written. There are no similitudes in Ossian or the Iliad or the Odyssey so daring. Its imagery sometimes seems on the verge of the reckless, but only seems so. The fact is that God would startle and arouse and propel men and nations. A tame and limping similitude would fail to accomplish the object. While there are times when He employs in the Bible the gentle dew and the morning cloud and the dove and the daybreak in the presentation of truth, we often find the iron chariot, the lightning, the earthquake, the spray, the sword, and, in my text, the razor. This keen-bladed instrument has advanced in usefulness with the ages. In Bible times and lands the beard remained uncut save in the seasons of mourning and humiliation, but the razor was always a suggestive symbol. David says of Doeg, his antagonist: "Thy tongue is a sharp razor working deceitfully;" that is, it pretends to clear the face, but is really used for deadly incision. In this morning's text the weapon of the toilet appears under the following circumstances: Judea needed to have some of its prosperities cut off, and God sends against it three Assyrian kings--first Sennacherib, then Esrahaddon, and afterward Nebuchadnezzar. Those three sharp invasions, that cut down the glory of Judea, are compared to so many sweeps of the razor across the face of the land. And these circumstances were called a hired razor because God took the kings of Assyria, with whom He had no sympathy, to do the work, and paid them in palaces and spoils and annexations. These kings were hired to execute the divine behests. And now the text, which on its first reading may have seemed trivial or inapt, is charged with momentous import: "In the same day shall the Lord shave with a razor that is hired--namely, by them beyond the river, by the King of Assyria." Well, if God's judgments are razors, we had better be careful how we use them on other people. In careful sheath these domestic weapons are put away, where no one by accident may touch them, and where the hands of children may not reach them. Such instruments must be carefully handled or not handled at all. But how recklessly some people wield the judgments of God! If a man meet with business misfortune, how many there are ready to cry out: "That is a judgment of God upon him because he was unscrupulous, or arrogant, or overreaching, or miserly. I thought he would get cut down! What a clean sweep of everything! His city house and country house gone! His stables emptied of all the fine bays and sorrels and grays that used to prance by his door! All his resources overthrown, and all that he prided himself on tumbled into demolition! Good for him!" Stop, my brother. Don't sling around too freely the judgments of God, for they are razors. Some of the most wicked business men succeed, and they live and die in prosperity, and some of the most honest and conscientious are driven into bankruptcy. Perhaps his manner was unfortunate, and he was not really as proud as he looked to be. Some of those who carry their head erect and look imperial are humble as a child, while many a man in seedy coat and slouch hat and unblacked shoes is as proud as Lucifer. You can not tell by a man's look. Perhaps he was not unscrupulous in business, for there are two sides to every story, and everybody that accomplishes anything for himself or others gets industriously lied about. Perhaps his business misfortune was not a punishment, but the fatherly discipline to prepare him for heaven, and God may love him far more than He loves you, who can pay dollar for dollar, and are put down in the commercial catalogues as A1. Whom the Lord loveth He gives four hundred thousand dollars and lets die on embroidered pillows? No: whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth. Better keep your hand off the Lord's razors, lest they cut and wound people that do not deserve it. If you want to shave off some of the bristling pride of your own heart do so; but be very careful how you put the sharp edge on others. How I do dislike the behavior of those persons who, when people are unfortunate, say: "I told you so--getting punished--served him right." If those I-told-you-so's got their desert they would long ago have been pitched over the battlements. The mote in their neighbor's eyes--so small that it takes a microscope to find it--gives them more trouble than the beam which obscures their own optics. With air sometimes supercilious and sometimes Pharisaical, and always blasphemous, they take the razor of the divine judgment and sharpen it on the hone of their own hard hearts, and then go to work on men sprawled out at full length under disaster, cutting mercilessly. They begin by soft expressions of sympathy and pity and half praise, and, lather the victim all over before they put on the sharp edge. Let us be careful how we shoot at others lest we take down the wrong one, remembering the servant of King William Rufus who shot at a deer, but the arrow glanced against a tree and killed the king. Instead of going out with shafts to pierce, and razors to cut, we had better imitate the friend of Richard Coeur de Lion, who, in the war of the Crusades, was captured and imprisoned, but none of his friends knew where. So his loyal friend went around the land from stronghold to stronghold, and sung at each window a snatch of song that Richard Coeur de Lion had taught him in other days. And one day, coming before a jail where he suspected his king might be incarcerated, he sung two lines of song, and immediately King Richard responded from his cell with the other two lines, and so his whereabouts were discovered, and immediately a successful movement was made for his liberation. So let us go up and down the world with the music of kind words and sympathetic hearts, serenading the unfortunate, and trying to get out of trouble men who had noble natures, but, by unforeseen circumstances, have been incarcerated, thus liberating kings. More hymn-book and less razor. Especially ought we to be apologetic and merciful toward those who, while they have great faults, have also great virtues. Some people are barren of virtues. No weeds verily, but no flowers. I must not be too much enraged at a nettle along the fence if it be in a field containing forty acres of ripe Michigan wheat. At the present time, naturalists tell us, there is on the sun a spot twenty thousand miles long, but from the brightness and warmth I conclude it is a good deal of a sun yet. Again, when I read in my text that the Lord shaves with the hired razor of Assyria the land of Judea, I bethink myself of the precision of God's providence. A razor swung the tenth part of an inch out of the right line means either failure or laceration, but God's dealings never slip, and they do not miss by the thousandth part of an inch the right direction. People talk as though things in this world were at loose ends. Cholera sweeps across Marseilles and Madrid and Palermo, and we watch anxiously. Will the epidemic sweep Europe and America? People say, "That will entirely depend on whether inoculation is a successful experiment; that will depend entirely on quarantine regulations; that will depend on the early or late appearance of frost; that epidemic is pitched into the world, and it goes blundering across the continents, and it is all guess-work and an appalling perhaps." My friends, I think, perhaps, that God had something to do with it, and that His mercy may have in some way protected us--that He may have done as much for us as the quarantine and the health officers. It was right and a necessity that all caution should be used, but there has come enough macaroni from Italy, and enough grapes from the south of France, and enough rags from tatterdemalions, and hidden in these articles of transportation enough choleraic germs to have left by this time all Brooklyn mourning at Greenwood, and all Philadelphia at Laurel Hill, and all Boston at Mount Auburn. I thank all the doctors and quarantines; but, more than all, and first of all, and last of all, and all the time, I thank God. In all the six thousand years of the world's existence there has not one thing merely "happened so." God is not an anarchist, but a King, a Father. When little Tod, the son of President Lincoln, died, all the land sympathized with the sorrow in the White House. He used to rush into the room where the cabinet was in session, and while the most eminent men of the land were discussing the questions of national existence. But the child had no care about those questions. Now God the Father, and God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost are in perpetual session in regard to this world and kindred worlds. Shall you, His child, rush in to criticise or arraign or condemn the divine government? No; the Cabinet of the Eternal Three can govern and will govern in the wisest and best way, and there never will be a mistake, and like razor skillfully swung, shall cut that which ought to be cut, and avoid that which ought to be avoided. Precision to the very hair-breadth. Earthly time-pieces may get out of order and strike wrong, saying that it is one o'clock when it is two, or two when it is three. God's clock is always right, and when it is one it strikes one, and when it is twelve it strikes twelve, and the second hand is as accurate as the minute hand. Further, my text tells us that God sometimes shaves nations: "In the same day shall the Lord shave with the razor that is hired." With one sharp sweep He went across Judea and down went its pride and its power. In 1861 God shaved our nation. We had allowed to grow Sabbath desecration, and oppression, and blasphemy, and fraud, and impurity, and all sorts of turpitude. The South had its sins, and the North its sins, and the East its sins, and the West its sins. We had been warned again and again, and we did not heed. At length the sword of war cut from the St. Lawrence to the Gulf, and from Atlantic seaboard to Pacific seaboard. The pride of the land, not the cowards, but the heroes, on both sides went down. And that which we took for the sword of war was the Lord's razor. In 1862, again, it went across the land. In 1863 again. In 1864 again. Then the sharp instrument was incased and put away. Never in the history of the ages was any land more thoroughly shaved than during those four years of civil combat; and, my brethren, if we do not quit some of our individual sins, national sins, the Lord will again take us in hand. He has other razors within reach besides war: epidemics, droughts, deluges, plagues--grasshopper and locust; or our overtowering success may so far excite the jealousy of other lands that, under some pretext, the great nations of Europe and Asia may combine to put us down. This nation, so easily approached on north and south and from both oceans, might have on hand at once more hostilities than were ever arrayed against any power. We have recently been told by skillful engineers that all our fortresses around New York harbor could not keep the shells from being hurled from the sea into the heart of these great cities. Insulated China, the wealthiest of all nations, as will be realized when her resources are developed, will have adopted all the modes of modern warfare, and at the Golden Gate may be discussing whether Americans must go. If the combined jealousies of Europe and Asia should come upon us, we should have more work on hand than would be pleasant. I hope no such combination against us will ever be formed, but I want to show that, as Assyria was the hired razor against Judea, and Cyrus the hired razor against Babylon, and the Huns the hired razor against the Goths, there are now many razors that the Lord could hire if, because of our national sins, He should undertake to shave us. In 1870, Germany was the razor with which the Lord shaved France. England is the razor with which very shortly the Lord will shave Russia. But nations are to repent in a day. May a speedy and world-wide coming to God hinder, on both sides the sea, all national calamity. But do not let us, as a nation, either by unrighteous law at Washington, or bad lives among ourselves, defy the Almighty. One would think that our national symbol of the eagle might sometimes suggest another eagle, that which ancient Rome carried. In the talons of that eagle were clutched at one time Britain, France, Spain, Italy, Dalmatia, Rhactia, Noricum, Pannonia, Moesia, Dacia, Thrace, Macedonia, Greece, Asia Minor, Syria, Phoenicia, Palestine, Egypt, and all Northern Africa, and all the islands of the Mediterranean, indeed, all the world that was worth having, an hundred and twenty millions of people under the wings of that one eagle. Where is she now? Ask Gibbon, the historian, in his prose poem, the "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." Ask her gigantic ruins straggling their sadness through the ages, the screech owl at windows out of which world-wide conquerors looked. Ask the day of judgment when her crowned debauchees, Commodus and Pertinax, and Caligula and Diocletian, shall answer for their infamy? As men and as nations let us repent, and have our trust in a pardoning God, rather than depend on former successes for immunity! Out of thirteen greatest battles of the world, Napoleon had lost but one before Waterloo. Pride and destruction often ride in the same saddle. But notice once more, and more than all in my text, that God is so kind and loving, that when it is necessary for Him to cut, He has to go to others for the sharp-edged weapon. "In the same day shall the Lord shave with a razor that is hired." God is love. God is pity. God is help. God is shelter. God is rescue. There are no sharp edges about Him, no thrusting points, no instruments of laceration. If you want balm for wounds, He has that. If you want salve for divine eyesight, He has that. But if there is sharp and cutting work to do which requires a razor, that He hires. God has nothing about Him that hurts, save when dire necessity demands, and then He has to go clear off to some one else to get the instrument. This divine geniality will be no novelty to those who have pondered the Calvarean massacre, where God submerged Himself in human tears, and crimsoned Himself from punctured arteries, and let the terrestrial and infernal worlds maul Him until the chandeliers of the sky had to be turned out, because the universe could not endure the indecency. Illustrious for love He must have been to take all that as our substitute, paying out of His own heart the price of our admission at the gates of heaven. King Henry II., of England, crowned his son as king, and on the day of coronation put on a servant's garb and waited, he, the king, at the son's table, to the astonishment of all the princes. But we know of a more wondrous scene, the King of heaven and earth offering to put on you, His child, the crown of life, and in the form of a servant waiting on you with blessing. Extol that love, all painting, all sculpture, all music, all architecture, all worship! In Dresdenian gallery let Raphael hold Him up as a child, and in Antwerp Cathedral let Rubens hand Him down from the cross as a martyr, and Handel make all his oratorio vibrate around that one chord--"He was wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquity." But not until all the redeemed get home, and from the countenances of all the piled-up galleries of the ransomed shall be revealed the wonders of redemption, shall either man or seraph or archangel know the height, and depth, and length, and breadth of the love of God. At our national capital, a monument in honor of him who did more than any one to achieve our American Independence, was for scores of years in building, and most of us were discouraged and said it never would be completed. And how glad we all were when in the presence of the highest officials of the nation, the work was done! But will the monument to Him who died for the eternal liberation of the human race ever be completed? For ages the work has been going up; evangelists and apostles and martyrs have been adding to the heavenly pile, and every one of the millions of the redeemed going up from earth, has made to it contribution of gladness, and weight of glory is swung to the top of other weight of glory, higher and higher as the centuries go by, higher and higher as the whole millenniums roll, sapphire on the top of jasper, sardonyx on the top of chalcedony, and chrysoprasus above topaz, until, far beneath shall be the walls and towers and domes of the great capitol, a monument forever and forever rising, and yet never done. "Unto Him who hath loved us and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and made us kings and priests forever." Allelujah, amen. WINDOWS TOWARD JERUSALEM. "His windows being open and his chamber toward Jerusalem."--DAN. vi: 10. The scoundrelly princes of Persia, urged on by political jealousy against Daniel, have succeeded in getting a law passed that whosoever prays to God shall be put under the paws and teeth of the lions, who are lashing themselves in rage and hunger up and down the stone cage, or putting their lower jaws on the ground, bellowing till the earth trembles. But the leonine threat did not hinder the devotion of Daniel, the Coeur-de-Lion of the ages. His enemies might as well have a law that the sun should not draw water or that the south wind should not sweep across a garden of magnolias or that God should be abolished. They could not scare him with the red-hot furnaces, and they can not now scare him with the lions. As soon as Daniel hears of this enactment he leaves his office of Secretary of State, with its upholstery of crimson and gold, and comes down the white marble steps and goes to his own house. He opens his window and puts the shutters back and pulls the curtain aside so that he can look toward the sacred city of Jerusalem, and then prays. I suppose the people in the street gathered under and before his window, and said: "Just see that man defying the law; he ought to be arrested." And the constabulary of the city rush to the police head-quarters and report that Daniel is on his knees at the wide-open window. "You are my prisoner," says the officer of the law, dropping a heavy hand on the shoulder of the kneeling Daniel. As the constables open the door of the cavern to thrust in their prisoner, they see the glaring eyes of the monsters. But Daniel becomes the first lion-tamer, and they lick his hand and fawn at his feet, and that night he sleeps with the shaggy mane of a wild beast for his pillow, while the king that night, sleepless in the palace, has on him the paw and teeth of a lion he can not tame--the lion of a remorseful conscience. What a picture it would be for some artist; Darius, in the early dusk of morning, not waiting for footmen or chariot, hastening to the den, all flushed and nervous and in dishabille, and looking through the crevices of the cage to see what had become of his prime-minister! "What, no sound!" he says: "Daniel is surely devoured, and the lions are sleeping after their horrid meal, the bones of the poor man scattered across the floor of the cavern." With trembling voice Darius calls out, "Daniel!" No answer, for the prophet is yet in profound slumber. But a lion, more easily awakened, advances, and, with hot breath blown through the crevice, seems angrily to demand the cause of this interruption, and then another wild beast lifts his mane from under Daniel's head, and the prophet, waking up, comes forth to report himself all unhurt and well. But our text stands us at Daniel's window, open toward Jerusalem. Why in that direction open? Jerusalem was his native land, and all the pomp of his Babylonish successes could not make him forget it. He came there from Jerusalem at eighteen years of age, and he never visited it, though he lived to be eighty-five years. Yet, when he wanted to arouse the deepest emotions and grandest aspirations of his heart, he had his window open toward his native Jerusalem. There are many of you to-day who understand that without any exposition. This is getting to be a nation of foreigners. They have come into all occupations and professions. They sit in all churches. It may be twenty years ago since you got your naturalization papers, and you may be thoroughly Americanized, but you can't forget the land of your birth, and your warmest sympathies go out toward it. Your windows are open toward Jerusalem. Your father and mother are buried there. It may have been a very humble home in which you were born, but your memory often plays around it, and you hope some day to go and see it--the hill, the tree, the brook, the house, the place so sacred, the door from which you started off with parental blessing to make your own way in the world; and God only knows how sometimes you have longed to see the familiar places of your childhood, and how in awful crises of life you would like to have caught a glimpse of the old, wrinkled face that bent over you as you lay on the gentle lap twenty or forty or fifty years ago. You may have on this side of the sea risen in fortune, and, like Daniel, have become great, and may have come into prosperities which you never could have reached if you had stayed there, and you may have many windows to your house--bay-windows, and sky-light-windows, and windows of conservatory, and windows on all sides--but you have at least one window open toward Jerusalem. When the foreign steamer comes to the wharf, you see the long line of sailors, with shouldered mail-bags, coming down the planks, carrying as many letters as you might suppose would be enough for a year's correspondence, and this repeated again and again during the week. Multitudes of them are letters from home, and at all the post-offices of the land people will go to the window and anxiously ask for them, hundreds of thousands of persons finding that window of foreign mails the open window toward Jerusalem. Messages that say: "When are you coming home to see us? Brother has gone into the army. Sister is dead. Father and mother are getting very feeble. We are having a great struggle to get on here. Would you advise us to come to you, or will you come to us? All join in love, and hope to meet you, if not in this world, then in a better. Good-bye." Yes, yes; in all these cities, and amid the flowering western prairies, and on the slopes of the Pacific, and amid the Sierras, and on the banks of the lagoon, and on the ranches of Texas there is an uncounted multitude who, this hour, stand and sit and kneel with their windows open toward Jerusalem. Some of them played on the heather of the Scottish hills. Some of them were driven out by Irish famine. Some of them, in early life, drilled in the German army. Some of them were accustomed at Lyons or Marseilles or Paris to see on the street Victor Hugo and Gambetta. Some chased the chamois among the Alpine precipices. Some plucked the ripe clusters from Italian vineyard. Some lifted their faces under the midnight sun of Norway. It is no dishonor to our land that they remember the place of their nativity. Miscreants would they be if, while they have some of their windows open to take in the free air of America and the sunlight of an atmosphere which no kingly despot has ever breathed, they forgot sometime to open the window toward Jerusalem. No wonder that the son of the Swiss, when far away from home, hearing the national air of his country sung, the malady of home-sickness comes on him so powerfully as to cause his death. You have the example of the heroic Daniel of my text for keeping early memories fresh. Forget not the old folks at home. Write often; and, if you have surplus of means and they are poor, make practical contribution, and rejoice that America is bound to all the world by ties of sanguinity as is no other nation. Who can doubt but it is appointed for the evangelization of other lands? What a stirring, melting, gospelizing theory that all the doors of other nations are open toward us, while our windows are open toward them! But Daniel, in the text, kept this port-hole of his domestic fortress unclosed because Jerusalem was the capital of sacred influences. There had smoked the sacrifice. There was the Holy of Holies. There was the Ark of the Covenant. There stood the temple. We are all tempted to keep our windows open on the opposite side, toward the world, that we may see and hear and appropriate its advantages. What does the world say? What does the world think? What does the world do? Worshipers of the world instead of worshipers of God. Windows open toward Babylon. Windows open toward Corinth. Windows open toward Athens. Windows open toward Sodom. Windows open toward the flats, instead of windows open toward the hills. Sad mistake, for this world as a god is like something I saw the other day in the museum of Strasburg, Germany--the figure of a virgin in wood and iron. The victim in olden time was brought there, and this figure would open its arms to receive him, and, once infolded, the figure closed with a hundred knives and lances upon him, and then let him drop one hundred and eighty feet sheer down. So the world first embraces its idolaters, then closes upon them with many tortures, and then lets them drop forever down. The highest honor the world could confer was to make a man Roman emperor; but, out of sixty-three emperors, it allowed only six to die peacefully in their beds. The dominion of this world over multitudes is illustrated by the names of coins of many countries. They have their pieces of money which they call sovereigns and half sovereigns, crowns and half crowns, Napoleons and half Napoleons, Fredericks and double Fredericks, and ducats, and Isabellinos, all of which names mean not so much usefulness as dominion. The most of our windows open toward the exchange, toward the salon of fashion, toward the god of this world. In olden times the length of the English yard was fixed by the length of the arm of King Henry I., and we are apt to measure things by a variable standard and by the human arm that in the great crises of life can give us no help. We need, like Daniel, to open our windows toward God and religion. But, mark you, that good lion-tamer is not standing at the window, but kneeling, while he looks out. Most photographs are taken of those in standing or sitting posture. I now remember but one picture of a man kneeling, and that was David Livingstone, who in the cause of God and civilization sacrificed himself; and in the heart of Africa his servant, Majwara, found him in the tent by the light of a candle, stuck on the top of a box, his head in his hands upon the pillow, and dead on his knees. But here is a great lion-tamer, living under the dash of the light, and his hair disheveled of the breeze, praying. The fact is, that a man can see further on his knees than standing on tiptoe. Jerusalem was about five hundred and fifty statute miles from Babylon, and the vast Arabian Desert shifted its sands between them. Yet through that open window Daniel saw Jerusalem, saw all between it, saw beyond, saw time, saw eternity, saw earth, and saw heaven. Would you like to see the way through your sins to pardon, through your troubles to comfort, through temptation to rescue, through dire sickness to immortal health, through night to day, through things terrestrial to things celestial, you will not see them till you take Daniel's posture. No cap of bone to the joints of the fingers, no cap of bone to the joints of the elbow, but cap of bone to the knees, made so because the God of the body was the God of the soul, and especial provision for those who want to pray, and physiological structure joins with spiritual necessity in bidding us pray, and pray, and pray. In olden time the Earl of Westmoreland said he had no need to pray, because he had enough pious tenants on his estate to pray for him; but all the prayers of the church universal amount to nothing unless, like Daniel, we pray for ourselves. Oh, men and women, bounded on one side by Shadrach's red-hot furnace, and the other side by devouring lions, learn the secret of courage and deliverance by looking at that Babylonish window open toward the south-west! "Oh," you say, "that is the direction of the Arabian Desert!" Yes; but on the other side of the desert is God, is Christ, is Jerusalem, is heaven. The Brussels lace is superior to all other lace, so beautiful, so multiform, so expensive--four hundred francs a pound. All the world seeks it. Do you know how it is made? The spinning is done in a dark room, the only light admitted through a small aperture, and that light falling directly on the pattern. And the finest specimens of Christian character I have ever seen or ever expect to see are those to be found in lives all of whose windows have been darkened by bereavement and misfortune save one, but under that one window of prayer the interlacing of divine workmanship went on until it was fit to deck a throne, a celestial embroidery which angels admired and God approved. But it is another Jerusalem toward which we now need to open our windows. The exiled evangelist of Ephesus saw it one day as the surf of the Icarian sea foamed and splashed over the bowlders at his feet, and his vision reminded me of a wedding-day when the bride by sister and maid was having garlands twisted for her hair and jewels strung for her neck just before she puts her betrothed hand into the hand of her affianced: "I, John, saw the Holy City, New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven prepared as a bride adorned for her husband." Toward that bridal Jerusalem are our windows opened? We would do well to think more of heaven. It is not a mere annex of earth. It is not a desolate outpost. As Jerusalem was the capital of Judae, and Babylon the capital of the Babylonian monarchy, and London is the capital of Great Britain, and Washington is the capital of our own republic, the New Jerusalem is the capital of the universe. The king lives there, and the royal family of the redeemed have their palaces there, and there is a congress of many nations and the parliament of all the worlds. Yea, as Daniel had kindred in Jerusalem of whom he often thought, though he had left home when a very young man, perhaps father and mother and brothers and sisters still living, and was homesick to see them, and they belonged to the high circles of royalty, Daniel himself having royal blood in his veins, so we have in the New Jerusalem a great many kindred, and we are sometimes homesick to see them, and they are all princes and princesses, in them the blood imperial, and we do well to keep our windows open toward their eternal residence. It is a joy for us to believe that while we are interested in them they are interested in us. Much thought of heaven makes one heavenly. The airs that blow through that open window are charged with life, and sweep up to us aromas from gardens that never wither, under skies that never cloud, in a spring-tide that never terminates. Compared with it all other heavens are dead failures. Homer's heaven was an elysium which he describes as a plain at the end of the earth or beneath, with no snow nor rainfall, and the sun never goes down, and Rhadamanthus, the justest of men, rules. Hesiod's heaven is what he calls the islands of the blessed, in the midst of the ocean, three times a year blooming with most exquisite flowers, and the air is tinted with purple, while games and music and horse-races occupy the time. The Scandinavian's heaven was the hall of Walhalla, where the god Odin gave unending wine-suppers to earthly heroes and heroines. The Mohammedan's heaven passes its disciples in over the bridge Al-Sirat, which is finer than a hair and sharper than a sword, and then they are let loose into a riot of everlasting sensuality. The American aborigines look forward to a heaven of illimitable hunting-ground, partridge and deer and wild duck more than plentiful, and the hounds never off the scent, and the guns never missing fire. But the geographer has followed the earth round, and found no Homer's elysium. Voyagers have traversed the deep in all directions, and found no Hesiod's islands of the blessed. The Mohammedan's celestial debauchery and the Indian's eternal hunting-ground for vast multitudes have no charm. But here rolls in the Bible heaven. No more sea--that is, no wide separation. No more night--that is, no insomnia. No more tears--that is, no heart-break. No more pain--that is, dismissal of lancet and bitter draught and miasma, and banishment of neuralgias and catalepsies and consumptions. All colors in the wall except gloomy black; all the music in the major-key, because celebrative and jubilant. River crystalline, gate crystalline, and skies crystalline, because everything is clear and without doubt. White robes, and that means sinlessness. Vials full of odors, and that means pure regalement of the senses. Rainbow, and that means the storm is over. Marriage supper, and that means gladdest festivity. Twelve manner of fruits, and that means luscious and unending variety. Harp, trumpet, grand march, anthem, amen, and hallelujah in the same orchestra. Choral meeting solo, and overture meeting antiphon, and strophe joining dithyramb, as they roll into the ocean of doxologies. And you and I may have all that, and have it forever through Christ, if we will let Him with the blood of one wounded hand rub out our sin, and with the other wounded hand swing open the shining portals. Day and night keep your window open toward that Jerusalem. Sing about it. Pray about it. Think about it. Talk about it. Dream about it. Do not be inconsolable about your friends who have gone into it. Do not worry if something in your heart indicates that you are not far off from its ecstasies. Do not think that when a Christian dies he stops, for he goes on. An ingenious man has taken the heavenly furlongs as mentioned in Revelation, and has calculated that there will be in heaven one hundred rooms sixteen feet square for each ascending soul, though this world should lose a hundred millions yearly. But all the rooms of heaven will be ours, for they are family rooms; and as no room in your house is too good for your children, so all the rooms of all the palaces of the heavenly Jerusalem will be free to God's children and even the throne-room will not be denied, and you may run up the steps of the throne, and put your hand on the side of the throne, and sit down beside the king according to the promise: "To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne." But you can not go in except as conquerors. Many years ago the Turks and Christians were in battle, and the Christians were defeated, and with their commander Stephen fled toward a fortress where the mother of this commander was staying. When she saw her son and his army in disgraceful retreat, she had the gates of the fortress rolled shut, and then from the top of the battlement cried out to her son, "You can not enter here except as conqueror!" Then Stephen rallied his forces and resumed the battle and gained the day, twenty thousand driving back two hundred thousand. For those who are defeated in the battle with sin and death and hell nothing but shame and contempt; but for those who gain the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ the gates of the New Jerusalem will hoist, and there shall be an abundant entrance into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord, toward which you do well to keep your windows open. STORMED AND TAKEN. "And Abimelech gat him up to Mount Zalmon, he and all the people that were with him, and Abimelech took an ax in his hand, and cut down a bough from the trees, and took it, and laid it on his shoulder.... And all the people likewise cut down every man his bough, and followed Abimelech, and put them to the hold, and set the hold on fire upon them; so that all the men of the tower of Shechem died also, about a thousand men and women."--JUDGES ix: 48, 49. Abimelech is a name malodorous in Bible history, and yet full of profitable suggestion. Buoys are black and uncomely, but they tell where the rocks are. The snake's rattle is hideous, but it gives timely warning. From the piazza of my summer home, night by night I saw a lighthouse fifteen miles away, not placed there for adornment, but to tell mariners to stand off from that dangerous point. So all the iron-bound coast of moral danger is marked with Saul, and Herod, and Rehoboam, and Jezebel, and Abimelech. These bad people are mentioned in the Bible, not only as warnings, but because there were sometimes flashes of good conduct in their lives worthy of imitation. God sometimes drives a very straight nail with a very poor hammer. The city of Shechem had to be taken, and Abimelech and his men were to do it. I see the dust rolling up from their excited march. I hear the shouting of the captains and the yell of the besiegers. The swords clack sharply on the parrying shields, and the vociferation of two armies in death-grapple is horrible to hear. The battle goes on all day, and as the sun is setting Abimelech and his army cry "Surrender!" to the beaten foe. And, unable longer to resist, the city of Shechem falls; and there are pools of blood, and dissevered limbs, and glazed eyes looking up beggingly for mercy that war never shows, and dying soldiers with their head on the lap of mother, or wife, or sister, who have come out for the last offices of kindness and affection: and a groan rolls across the city, stopping not, because there is no spot for it to rest, so full is the place of other groans. A city wounded! A city dying! A city dead! Wail for Shechem, all ye who know the horrors of a sacked town! As I look over the city I can find only one building standing, and that is the temple of the god Berith. Some soldiers outside of the city, in a tower, finding that they can no longer defend Shechem, now begin to look out for their own personal safety, and they fly to this temple of Berith. They get within the door, shut it, and they say, "Now we are safe. Abimelech has taken the whole city, but he can not take this temple of Berith. Here we shall be under the protection of the gods." Oh, Berith, the god! do your best now for these refugees. If you have eyes, pity them. If you have hands, help them. If you have thunderbolts, strike for them. But how shall Abimelech and his army take this temple of Berith and the men who are there fortified? Will they do it with sword? Nay. Will they do it with spear? Nay. With battering-ram, rolled up by hundred-armed strength, crashing against the walls? Nay. Abimelech marches his men to a wood in Zalmon. With his ax he hews off a limb of a tree, and puts that limb upon his own shoulder, and then he says to his men, "You do the same." They are obedient to their commander. Oh, what a strange army, with what strange equipment! They come to the foot of the temple of Berith, and Abimelech takes his limb of a tree and throws it down; and the first platoon of soldiers come up and they throw down their branches; and the second platoon, and the third, until all around about the temple of Berith there is a pile of tree-branches. The Shechemites look out from the windows of the temple upon what seems to them childish play on the part of their enemies. But soon the flints are struck, and the spark begins to kindle the brush, and the flame comes up all through the pile, and the red elements leap to the casement, and the woodwork begins to blaze, and one arm of flame is thrown up on the right side of the temple, and another arm of flame is thrown up on the left side of the temple, until they clasp their lurid palms under the wild night sky, and the cry of "Fire!" within, and "Fire!" without announces the terror, and the strangulation, and the doom of the Shechemites, and the complete overthrow of the temple of the god Berith. Then there went up a shout, long and loud, from the stout lungs and swarthy chests of Abimelech and his men, as they stood amid the ashes and the dust, crying: "Victory! Victory!" Now, I learn first from this subject the folly of depending upon any one form of tactics in anything we have to do for this world or for God. Look over the weaponry of olden times--javelins, battle-axes, habergeons--and show me a single weapon with which Abimelech and his men could have gained such complete victory. It is no easy thing to take a temple thus armed. I saw a house where, during revolutionary times, a man and his wife kept back a whole regiment hour after hour, because they were inside the house, and the assaulting soldiers were outside the house. Yet here Abimelech and his army come up, they surround this temple, and they capture it without the loss of a single man on the part of Abimelech, although I suppose some of the old Israelitish heroes told Abimelech: "You are only going up there to be cut to pieces." Yet you are willing to testify to-day that by no other mode--certainly not by ordinary modes--could that temple so easily, so thoroughly have been taken. Fathers and mothers, brethren and sisters in Jesus Christ, what the Church most wants to learn this day is that any plan is right, is lawful, is best, which helps to overthrow the temple of sin, and capture this world for God. We are very apt to stick to the old modes of attack. We put on the old-style coat of mail. We come up with the sharp, keen, glittering steel spear of argument, expecting in that way to take the castle, but they have a thousand spears where we have ten. And so the castle of sin stands. Oh, my friends, we will never capture this world for God by any keen saber of sarcasm, by any glittering lances of rhetoric, by any sapping and mining of profound disquisition, by any gunpowdery explosions of indignation, by sharp shootings of wit, by howitzers of mental strength made to swing shell five miles, by cavalry horses gorgeously caparisoned pawing the air. In vain all the attempts on the part of these ecclesiastical foot soldiers, light horsemen, and grenadiers. My friends, I propose this morning a different style of tactics. Let each one go to the forest of God's promise and invitation, and hew down a branch and put it on his shoulder, and let us all come around these obstinate iniquities, and then, with this pile, kindled by the fires of a holy zeal and the flames of a consecrated life, we will burn them out. What steel can not do, fire may. And I, this morning, announce myself in favor of any plan of religious attack that succeeds--any plan of religious attack, however radical, however odd, however unpopular, however hostile to all the conventionalities of Church and State. We want more heart in our song, more heart in our alms-giving, more heart in our prayers, more heart in our preaching. Oh, for less of Abimelech's sword, and more of Abimelech's conflagration! I have often heard "There is a fountain filled with blood" sung artistically by four birds perched on their Sunday roost in the gallery, until I thought of Jenny Lind, and Nilsson, and Sontag, and all the other warblers; but there came not one tear to my eye, nor one master emotion to my heart. But one night I went down to the African Methodist meeting-house in Philadelphia, and at the close of the service a black woman, in the midst of the audience, began to sing that hymn, and all the audience joined in, and we were floated some three or four miles nearer heaven than I have ever been since. I saw with my own eyes that "fountain filled with blood"--red, agonizing, sacrificial, redemptive--and I heard the crimson plash of the wave as we all went down under it: "For sinners plunged beneath that flood Lose all their guilty stains." Oh, my friends, the Gospel is not a syllogism; It is not casuistry, it is not polemics, or the science of squabble. It is blood-red fact; it is warm-hearted invitation; it is leaping, bounding, flying good news; it is efflorescent with all light; it is rubescent with all glow; it is arborescent with all sweet shade. I have seen the sun rise on Mount Washington, and from the Tip-top House; but there was no beauty in that compared with the day-spring from on high when Christ gives light to a soul. I have heard Parepa sing; but there was no music in that compared with the voice of Christ when He said: "Thy sins are forgiven thee; go in peace." Good news! Let every one cut down a branch of this tree of life and wave it. Let him throw it down and kindle it. Let all the way from Mount Zalmon to Shechem be filled with the tossing joy. Good news! This bonfire of the Gospel shall consume the last temple of sin, and will illumine the sky with apocalyptic joy that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. Any new plan that makes a man quit his sin, and that prostrates a wrong, I am as much in favor of as though all the doctors, and the bishops, and the archbishops, and the synods, and the academical gownsmen of Christianity sanctioned it. The temple of Berith must come down, and I do not care how it comes. Still further, I learn from this subject the power of example. If Abimelech had sat down on the grass and told his men to go and get the boughs, and go out to the battle, they would never have gone at all, or, if they had, it would have been without any spirit or effective result; but when Abimelech goes with his own ax and hews down a branch, and with Abimelech's arm puts it on Abimelech's shoulder, and marches on--then, my text says, all the people did the same. How natural that was! What made Garibaldi and Stonewall Jackson the most magnetic commanders of this century? They always rode ahead. Oh, the overcoming power of example! Here is a father on the wrong road; all his boys go on the wrong road. Here is a father who enlists for Christ; his children enlist. I saw, in some of the picture-galleries of Europe, that before many of the great works of the masters--the old masters--there would be sometimes four or five artists taking copies of the pictures. These copies they were going to carry with them, perhaps to distant lands; and I have thought that your life and character are a masterpiece, and it is being copied, and long after you are gone it will bloom or blast in the homes of those who knew you, and be a Gorgon or a Madonna. Look out what you say. Look out what you do. Eternity will hear the echo. The best sermon ever preached is a holy life. The best music ever chanted is a consistent walk. I saw, near the beach, a wrecker's machine. It was a cylinder with some holes at the side, made for the thrusting in of some long poles with strong leverage; and when there is a vessel in trouble or going to pieces out in the offing, the wreckers shoot a rope out to the suffering men. They grasp it, and the wreckers turn the cylinder, and the rope winds around the cylinder, and those who are shipwrecked are saved. So at your feet to-day there is an influence with a tremendous leverage. The rope attached to it swings far out into the billowy future. Your children, your children's children, and all the generations that are to follow, will grip that influence and feel the long-reaching pull long after the figures on your tombstone are so near worn out that the visitor can not tell whether it was in 1885, or 1775, or 1675 that you died. Still further, I learn from this subject the advantages of concerted action. If Abimelech had merely gone out with a tree-branch the work would not have been accomplished, or if ten, twenty, or thirty men had gone; but when all the axes are lifted, and all the sharp edges fall, and all these men carry each his tree-branch down and throw it about the temple, the victory is gained--the temple falls. My friends, where there is one man in the Church of God at this day shouldering his whole duty there are a great many who never lift an ax or swing a blow. Oh, we all want our boat to get over to the golden sands, but the most of us are seated either in the prow or in the stern, wrapped in our striped shawl, holding a big-handled sunshade, while others are blistered in the heat, and pull until the oar-locks groan, and the blades bend till they snap. Oh, religious sleepy-heads, wake up! While we have in our church a great many who are toiling for God, there are some too lazy to brush the flies off their heavy eyelids. Suppose, in military circles, on the morning of battle the roll is called, and out of a thousand men only a hundred men in the regiment answered. What excitement there would be in the camp! What would the colonel say? What high talking there would be among the captains, and majors, and the adjutants! Suppose word came to head-quarters that these delinquents excused themselves on the ground that they had overslept themselves, or that the morning was damp and they were afraid of getting their feet wet, or that they were busy cooking rations. My friends, this is the morning of the day of God Almighty's battle! Do you not see the troops? Hear you not all the trumpets of heaven and all the drums of hell? Which side are you on? If you are on the right side, to what cavalry troop, to what artillery service, to what garrison duty do you belong? In other words, in what Sabbath-school do you teach? in what prayer-meeting do you exhort? to what penitentiary do you declare eternal liberty? to what almshouse do you announce the riches of heaven? What broken bone of sorrow have you ever set? Are you doing nothing? Is it possible that a man or woman sworn to be a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ is doing nothing? Then hide the horrible secret from the angels. Keep it away from the book of judgment. If you are doing nothing do not let the world find it out, lest they charge your religion with being a false-face. Do not let your cowardice and treason be heard among the martyrs about the throne, lest they forget the sanctity of the place and curse your betrayal of that cause for which they agonized and died. May the eternal God rouse us all to action! As for myself, I feel I would be ashamed to die now and enter heaven until I have accomplished something more decisive for the Lord that bought me. I would like to join with you in an oath, with hand high uplifted to heaven, swearing new allegiance to Jesus Christ, and to work more for His kingdom. Are you ready to join with me in some new work for Christ? I feel that there is such a thing as claustral piety, that there is such a thing as insular work; but it seems to me that what we want now is concerted action. The temple of Berith is very broad, and it is very high. It has been going up by the hands of men and devils, and no human enginery can demolish it; but if the fifty thousand ministers of Christ in this country should each take a branch of the tree of life, and all their congregations should do the same, and we should march on and throw these branches around the great temples of sin, and worldliness and folly, it would need no match, or coal, or torch of ours to touch off the pile; for, as in the days of Elijah, fire would fall from heaven and kindle the bonfire of Christian victory over demolished sin. It is kindling now! Huzzah! The day is ours! Still further, I learn from this subject the danger of false refuges. As soon as these Shechemites got into the temple they thought they were safe. They said: "Berith will take care of us. Abimelech may batter down everything else; he can not batter down this temple where we are now hid." But very soon they heard the timbers crackling, and they were smothered with smoke, and they miserably died. And you and I are just as much tempted to false refuges. The mirror this morning may have persuaded you that you have a comely cheek; your best friends may have persuaded you that you have elegant manners. Satan may have told you that you are all right; but bear with me if I tell you that, if unpardoned, you are all wrong. I have no clinometer by which to measure how steep is the inclined plane you are descending, but I know it is very steep. "Well," you say, "if the Bible is true I am a sinner. Show me some refuge; I will step right into it." I suppose every person in this audience this moment is stepping into some kind of refuge. Here you step in the tower of good works. You say: "I shall be safe here in this refuge." The battlements are adorned; the steps are varnished; on the wall are pictures of all the suffering you have alleviated, and all the schools you have established, and all the fine things you have ever done. Up in that tower you feel you are safe. But hear you not the tramp of your unpardoned sins all around the tower? They each have a match. They are kindling the combustible material. You feel the heat and the suffocation. Oh, may you leap in time, the Gospel declaring: "By the deeds of the law shall no flesh living be justified." "Well," you say, "I have been driven out of that tower; where shall I go?" Step into this tower of indifference. You say: "If this tower is attacked, it will be a great while before it is taken." You feel at ease. But there is an Abimelech, with ruthless assaults, coming on. Death and his forces are gathering around, and they demand that you surrender everything, and they clamor for your immortal overthrow, and they throw their skeleton arms in the windows, and with their iron fists they beat against the door; and while you are trying to keep them out you see the torches of judgment kindling, and every forest is a torch, and every mountain a torch, and every sea a torch; and while the Alps, the Pyrenees, and Himalayas turn into a live coal, blown redder and redder by the whirlwind breath of a God omnipotent, what will become of your refuge of lies? "But," says some one, "you are engaged in a very mean business, driving us from tower to tower." Oh, no. I want to tell you of a Gibraltar that never has been and never will be taken; of a wall that no satanic assault can scale; of a bulwark that the judgment earthquakes can not budge. The Bible refers to it when it says: "In God is thy refuge, and underneath thee are the everlasting arms." Oh, fling yourself into it! Tread down unceremoniously everything that intercepts you. Wedge your way there. There are enough hounds of death and peril after you to make you hurry. Many a man has perished just outside the tower, with his foot on the step, with his hand on the latch. Oh, get inside! Not one surplus second have you to spare. Quick, quick, quick! Great God, is life such an uncertain thing? If I bear a little too hard with my right foot on the earth, does it break through into the grave? Is this world, which swings at the speed of thousands of miles an hour around the sun, going with tenfold more speed toward the judgment-day? Oh, I am overborne with the thought; and in the conclusion I cry to one and I cry to the other: "Oh, time! Oh, eternity! Oh, the dead! Oh, the judgment-day! Oh, Jesus! Oh, God!" But, catching at the last apostrophe, I feel that I have something to hold on to: for "in God is thy refuge, and underneath thee are the everlasting arms." And, exhausted with my failure to save myself, I throw my whole weight of body, mind, and soul on this divine promise, as a weary child throws itself into the arms of its mother; as a wounded soldier throws himself on the hospital pillow; as a pursued man throws himself into the refuge; for "in God is thy refuge, and underneath thee are the everlasting arms." Oh, for a flood of tears with which to express the joy of this eternal rescue! ALL THE WORLD AKIN. "And hath made of one blood all nations of men."--ACTS xvii: 26. Some have supposed that God originally made an Asiatic Adam and a European Adam and an African Adam and an American Adam, but that theory is entirely overthrown by my text, which says that all nations are blood relatives, having sprung from one and the same stock. A difference in climate makes much of the difference in national temper. An American goes to Europe and stays there a long while, and finds his pulse moderating and his temper becoming more calm. The air on this side the ocean is more tonic than on the other side. An American breathes more oxygen than a European. A European coming to America finds a great change taking place in himself. He walks with more rapid strides, and finds his voice becoming keener and shriller. The Englishman who walks in London Strand at the rate of three miles the hour, coming to America and residing for a long while here, walks Broadway at the rate of four miles the hour. Much of the difference between an American and a European, between an Asiatic and an African, is atmospheric. The lack of the warm sunlight pales the Greenlander. The full dash of the sunlight darkens the African. Then, ignorance or intelligence makes its impression on the physical organism--in the one case ignorance flattening the skull, as with the Egyptian; in the other case intelligence building up the great dome of the forehead, as with the German. Then the style of god that the nation worships decides how much it shall be elevated or debased, so that those nations that worship reptiles are themselves only a superior form of reptile, while those nations that worship the natural sun in the heavens are the noblest style of barbaric people. But whatever be the difference of physiognomy, and whatever the difference of temperament, the physiologist tells us that after careful analysis he finds out that the plasma and the disk in the human blood have the same characteristics: so that if you should put twenty men from twenty nationalities abreast in line of battle, and a bullet should fly through the hearts of the twenty men, the blood flowing forth would, through analysis, prove itself to be the same blood in every instance. In other words, the science of the day confirming the truth of my text that "God hath made of one blood all nations of men." I have thought, my friends, it might be profitable this morning if I gave you some of the moral and religious impressions which I received when, through your indulgence, I had transatlantic absence. First, I observe that the majority of people in all lands are in a mighty struggle for bread. While in nearly all lands there are only a few cases of actual starvation reported, there is a vast population in every country I visited who have a limited supply of food, or such food as is incompetent to sustain physical vigor. This struggle in some lands is becoming more agonizing, while here and there it is lightened. I have joy in reporting that Ireland, about the sufferings of which we have heard so much, has far better prospects than I have seen there in previous visits. In 1879, coming home from that land, I prophesied the famine that must come upon, and did come upon, the deluged fields of that country. This year the crops are large, and both parties--those who like the English Government and those who don't like it--are expecting relief. I said to one of the intelligent men of Ireland: "Tell me in a few words what are the sufferings of Ireland, and what is the Land Relief enactment?" He replied: "I will tell you. Suppose I am a landlord and you a tenant. You rent from me a place for ten pounds a year. You improve it. You turn it from a bog into a garden. You put a house upon it. After a while I, the landlord, come around, and I say to my agent: 'How much rent is this man paying;' He answers, 'Ten pounds.' 'Is that all? Put his rent up to twenty pounds.' The tenant goes on improving his property, and after awhile I come around and I say to my agent, 'How much rent is this man paying?' He says, 'Twenty pounds.' 'Put his rent up to twenty-five pounds.' The tenant protests and says, 'I can't pay it.' Then I, the landlord, say, 'Pay it or get out;' and the tenant is helpless, and, leaving the place, the property in its improved condition turns over to the landlord. Now, to stop that outrage the Relief Enactment comes in and appoints commissioners who shall see that if the tenant is turned out, he shall receive the difference of value between the farm as he got it and the farm as he surrenders it. Moreover, the government loans money to the tenant, so that he may buy the property out and out if the landlord will sell." Mighty advancement toward the righting of a great wrong! But there and in all lands, not excepting our own, there is a far-reaching distress. And let those who broke their fast this morning, and those who shall dine to-day, remember those who are in want, and by prayer and practical beneficence do all they can to alleviate the hunger swoon of nations. Another impression was--indeed the impression carried with me all the summer--the thought already suggested, the brotherhood of man. The fact is that the differences are so small between nations that they may be said to be all alike. Though I spent the most of the summer in silence, I spoke a few times and to people of different nations, and how soon I noticed that they were very much alike! If a man knows how to play the piano, it does not make any difference whether he finds it in New Orleans or San Francisco or Boston or St. Petersburg or Moscow or Madras; it has so many keys, and he puts his fingers right on them. And the human heart is a divine instrument, with just so many keys in all cases, and you strike some of them and there is joy, and you strike some of them and there is sorrow. Plied by the same motives, lifted up by the same success, depressed by the same griefs. The cab-men of London have the same characteristics as the cab-men of New York, and are just as modest and retiring. The gold and silver drive Piccadilly and the Boulevards just as they drive Wall Street. If there be a great political excitement in Europe, the Bourse in Paris howls just as loudly as ever did the American gold-room. The same grief that we saw in our country in 1864 you may find now in the military hospitals of England containing the wounded and sick from the Egyptian wars. The same widowhood and orphanage that sat down in despair after the battles of Shiloh and South Mountain poured their grief in the Shannon and the Clyde and the Dee and the Thames. Oh, ye men and women who know how to pray, never get up from your knees until you have implored God in behalf of the fourteen hundred millions of the race just like yourselves, finding life a tremendous struggle! For who knows but that as the sun to-day draws up drops of water from the Caspian and the Black seas and from the Amazon and the Mississippi, after a while to distill the rain, these very drops on the fields--who knows but that the sun of righteousness may draw up the tears of your sympathy, and then rain them down in distillation of comfort o'er all the world? Who is that poor man, carried on a stretcher to the Afghan ambulance? He is your brother. If in the Pantheon at Paris you smite your hand against the wall among the tombs of the dead, you will hear a very strange echo coming from all parts of the Pantheon just as soon as you smite the wall. And I suppose it is so arranged that every stroke of sorrow among the tombs of bereavement ought to have loud, long, and oft-repeated echoes of sympathy all around the world. Oh, what a beautiful theory it is--and it is a Christian theory--that Englishman, Scotchman, Irishman, Norwegian, Frenchman, Italian, Russian, are all akin. Of one blood all nations. That is a very beautiful inscription that I saw a few days ago over the door in Edinburgh, the door of the house where John Knox used to live. It is getting somewhat dim now, but there is the inscription, fit for the door of any household--"Love God above all, and your neighbor as yourself." I was also impressed in journeying on the other side the sea with the difference the Bible makes in countries. The two nations of Europe that are the most moral to-day and that have the least crime are Scotland and Wales. They have by statistics, as you might find, fewer thefts, fewer arsons, fewer murders. What is the reason? A bad book can hardly live in Wales. The Bible crowds it out. I was told by one of the first literary men in Wales: "There is not a bad book in the Welsh language." He said: "Bad books come down from London, but they can not live here." It is the Bible that is dominant in Wales. And then in Scotland just open your Bible to give out your text, and there is a rustling all over the house almost startling to an American. What is it? The people opening their Bibles to find the text, looking at the context, picking out the referenced passages, seeing whether you make right quotation. Scotland and Wales Bible-reading people. That accounts for it. A man, a city, a nation that reads God's Word must be virtuous. That Book is the foe of all wrong-doing. What makes Edinburgh better than Constantinople? The Bible. Oh, I am afraid in America we are allowing the good book to be covered up with other good books! We have our ever-welcome morning and evening newspapers, and we have our good books on all subjects--geological subjects, botanical subjects, physiological subjects, theological subjects--good books, beautiful books, and so many good books that we have not time to read the Bible. Oh, my friends, it is not a matter of very great importance that you have a family Bible on the center-table in your parlor! Better have one pocket New Testament, the passages marked, the leaves turned down, the binding worn smooth with much usage, than fifty pictorial family Bibles too handsome to read! Oh, let us take a whisk-broom and brush the dust off our Bibles! Do you want poetry? Go and hear Job describe the war-horse, or David tell how the mountains skipped like lambs. Do you want logic? Go and hear Paul reason until your brain aches under the spell of his mighty intellect. Do you want history? Go and see Moses put into a few pages stupendous information which Herodotus, Thucydides, and Prescott never preached after. And, above all, if you want to find how a nation struck down by sin can rise to happiness and to heaven, read of that blood which can wash away the pollution of a world. There is one passage in the Bible of vast tonnage: "God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Oh, may God fill this country with Bibles and help the people to read them! I was also impressed in my transatlantic journeys with the wonderful power that Christ holds among the nations. The great name in Europe to-day is not Victoria, not Marquis of Salisbury, not William the Emperor, not Bismarck; the great name in Europe to-day is Christ. You find the crucifix on the gate-post, you find it in the hay field, you find it at the entrance of the manor, you find it by the side of the road. The greatest pictures in all the galleries of Italy, Germany, France, England, and Scotland are Bible pictures. What were the subjects of Raphael's great paintings? "The Transfiguration," "The Miraculous Draught of Fishes," "The Charge to Peter," "The Holy Family," "The Massacre of the Innocents," "Moses at the Burning Bush," "The Nativity," "Michael the Archangel," and the four or five exquisite "Madonnas." What are Tintoretto's great pictures? "Fall of Adam," "Cain and Abel," "The Plague of the Fiery Serpent," "Paradise," "Agony in the Garden," "The Temptation," "The Adoration of the Magi," "The Communication," "Baptism," "Massacre of the Innocents," "The Flight into Egypt," "The Crucifixion," "The Madonna." What are Titian's great pictures? "The Flagellation of Christ," "The Supper at Emmaus," "The Death of Abel," "The Assumption," "The Entombment," "Faith," "The Madonna." What are Michael Angelo's great pictures? "The Annunciation," "The Spirits in Prison," "At the feet of Christ," "The Infant Christ," "The Crucifixion," "The Last Judgment." What are Paul Veronese's great pictures? "Queen of Sheba," "The Marriage in Cana," "Magdalen Washing the Feet of Christ," "The Holy Family." Who has not heard of Da Vinci's "Last Supper"? Who has not heard of Turner's "Pools of Solomon"? Who has not heard of Claude's "Marriage of Isaac and Rebecca"? Who has not heard of Dürer's "Dragon of the Apocalypse"? The mightiest picture on this planet is Rubens' "Scourging of Christ." Painter's pencil loves to sketch the face of Christ. Sculptor's chisel loves to present the form of Christ. Organs love to roll forth the sorrows of Christ. The first time you go to London go into the Doré picture gallery. As I went and sat down before "Christ Descending the Steps of the Prætorium," at the first I was disappointed. I said: "There isn't enough majesty in that countenance, not enough tenderness in that eye;" but as I sat and looked at the picture it grew upon me until I was overwhelmed with its power, and I staggered with emotion as I went out into the fresh air, and said; "Oh, for that Christ I must live, and for that Christ I must be willing to die!" Make that Christ your personal friend, my sister, my brother. You may never go to Milan to see Da Vinci's "Last Supper;" but, better than that, you can have Christ come and sup with you. You may never get to Antwerp to see Rubens' "Descent of Christ from the Cross," but you can have Christ come down from the mountain of His suffering into your heart and abide there forever. Oh, you must have Him! We are all so diseased with sin that we want that which hurts us, and we won't have that which cures us. The best thing for you and for me to do to-day is to get down on our bended knees before God and say: "Oh, Almighty Son of God, I am blind! I want to see. My arms are palsied. I want to take hold of thy cross. Have mercy on me, O Lord Jesus!" Why will you live on husks when you may sit down to this white bread of heaven? Oh, with such a God, and with such a Christ, and with such a Holy Spirit, and with such an immortal nature, wake up! Once more, I was impressed greatly on the other side the sea with the wonderful triumphs of the Christian religion. The tide is rising, the tide of moral and spiritual prosperity in the world. I think that any man who keeps his eyes open, traveling in foreign lands, will come to that conclusion. More Bibles than ever before, more churches, more consecrated men and women, more people ready to be martyrs now than ever before, if need be; so that instead of there being, as people sometimes say, less spirit of martyrdom now than ever before, I believe where there was once one martyr there would be a thousand martyrs if the fires were kindled--men ready to go through flood and fire for Christ's sake. Oh, the signs are promising! The world is on the way to millennial brightness. All art, all invention, all literature, all commerce will be the Lord's. These ships that you see going up and down New York harbor are to be brought into the service of God. All those ships I saw at Liverpool, at Southampton, at Glasgow, are to be brought into the service of Christ. What is that passage, "Ships of Tarshish shall bring presents"? That is what it means. Oh, what a goodly fleet when the vessels of the sea come into the service of God! No guns frowning through the port-holes, no pikes hung in the gangway, nothing from cut-water to taffrail to suggest atrocity. Those ships will come from all parts of the seas. Great flocks of ships that never met on the high sea but in wrath, will cry, "Ship ahoy!" and drop down beside each other in calmness, the flags of Emmanuel streaming from the top-gallants. The old slaver, with decks scrubbed and washed and glistened and burnished--the old slaver will wheel into line; and the Chinese junk and the Venetian gondola, and the miners' and the pirates' corvette, will fall into line, equipped, readorned, beautified, only the small craft of this grand flotilla which shall float out for the truth--a flotilla mightier than the armada of Xerxes moving in the pomp and pride of Persian insolence; mightier than the Carthaginian navy rushing with forty thousand oarsmen upon the Roman galleys, the life of nations dashed out against the gunwales. Rise, O sea! and shine, O heavens! to greet this squadron of light and victory! On the glistening decks are the feet of them that bring good tidings, and songs of heaven float among the rigging. Crowd on all the canvas. Line-of-battle ship and merchantmen wheel into the way. It is noon. Strike eight bells. From all the squadron the sailors' songs arise. "Surely the isles shall wait for thee, and the ships of Tarshish to bring thy sons from afar, their silver and their gold with them, to the name of the Lord thy God, and the Holy One of Israel." A MOMENTOUS QUEST. "Seek ye the Lord while he may be found."--ISA. lv: 6. Isaiah stands head and shoulders above the other Old Testament authors in vivid descriptiveness of Christ. Other prophets give an outline of our Saviour's features. Some of them present, as it were, the side face of Christ; others a bust of Christ; but Isaiah gives us the full-length portrait of Christ. Other Scripture writers excel in some things. Ezekiel more weird, David more pathetic, Solomon more epigrammatic, Habakkuk more sublime; but when you want to see Christ coming out from the gates of prophecy in all His grandeur and glory, you involuntarily turn to Isaiah. So that if the prophecies in regard to Christ might be called the "Oratorio of the Messiah," the writing of Isaiah is the "Hallelujah Chorus," where all the batons wave and all the trumpets come in. Isaiah was not a man picked up out of insignificance by inspiration. He was known and honored. Josephus, and Philo, and Sirach extolled him in their writings. What Paul was among the apostles, Isaiah was among the prophets. My text finds him standing on a mountain of inspiration, looking out into the future, beholding Christ advancing and anxious that all men might know Him; his voice rings down the ages: "Seek ye the Lord while He may be found." "Oh," says some one: "that was for olden times." No, my hearer. If you have traveled in other lands you have taken a circular letter of credit from some banking-house in New York, and in St. Petersburg, or Venice, or Rome, or Antwerp, or Brussels, or Paris; you presented that letter and got financial help immediately. And I want you to understand that the text, instead of being appropriate for one age, or for one land, is a circular letter for all ages and for all lands, and wherever it is presented for help, the help comes: "Seek ye the Lord while He may be found." I come, to-day, with no hair-spun theories of religion, with no nice distinctions, with no elaborate disquisition; but with a plain talk on the matters of personal religion. I feel that the sermon I preach this morning will be the savor of life unto life, or of death unto death. In other words, the Gospel of Christ is a powerful medicine: it either kills or cures. There are those who say: "I would like to become a Christian, I have been waiting a good while for the right kind of influences to come;" and still you are waiting. You are wiser in worldly things than you are in religious things. If you want to get to Albany, you go to the Grand Central Depot, or to the steam-boat wharf, and, having got your ticket, you do not sit down on the wharf or sit in the depot; you get aboard the boat or train. And yet there are men who say they are waiting to get to heaven--waiting, waiting, but not with intelligent waiting, or they would get on board the line of Christian influences that would bear them into the kingdom of God. Now you know very well that to seek a thing is to search for it with earnest endeavor. If you want to see a certain man in New York, and there is a matter of $10,000 connected with your seeing him, and you can not at first find him, you do not give up the search. You look in the directory, but can not find the name; you go in circles where you think, perhaps, he may mingle, and, having found the part of the city where he lives, but perhaps not knowing the street, you go through street after street, and from block to block, and you keep on searching for weeks and for months. You say: "It is a matter of $10,000 whether I see him or not." Oh, that men were as persistent in seeking for Christ! Had you one half that persistence you would long ago have found Him who is the joy of the forgiven spirit. We may pay our debts, we may attend church, we may relieve the poor, we may be public benefactors, and yet all our life disobey the text, never seek God, never gain heaven. Oh, that the Spirit of God would help this morning while I try to show you, in carrying out the idea of my text, first, how to seek the Lord, and in the next place, when to seek Him. "Seek ye the Lord while He may be found." I remark, in the first place, you are to seek the Lord through earnest and believing prayer. God is not an autocrat or a despot seated on a throne, with His arms resting on brazen lions, and a sentinel pacing up and down at the foot of the throne. God is a father seated in a bower, waiting for His children to come and climb on His knee, and get His kiss and His benediction. Prayer is the cup with which we go to the "fountain of living water," and dip up refreshment for our thirsty soul. Grace does not come to the heart as we set a cask at the corner of the house to catch the rain in the shower. It is a pulley fastened to the throne of God, which we pull, bringing the blessing. I do not care so much what posture you take in prayer, nor how large an amount of voice you use. You might get down on your face before God, if you did not pray right inwardly, and there would be no response. You might cry at the top of your voice, and unless you had a believing spirit within, your cry would not go further up than the shout of a plow-boy to his oxen. Prayer must be believing, earnest, loving. You are in your house some summer day, and a shower comes up, and a bird, affrighted, darts into the window, and wheels about the room. You seize it. You smooth its ruffled plumage. You feel its fluttering heart. You say, "Poor thing, poor thing!" Now, a prayer goes out of the storm of this world into the window of God's mercy, and He catches it, and He feels its fluttering pulse, and He puts it in His own bosom of affection and safety. Prayer is a warm, ardent, pulsating exercise. It is the electric battery which, touched, thrills to the throne of God! It is the diving-bell in which we go down into the depths of God's mercy and bring up "pearls of great price." There was an instance where prayer made the waves of the Gennesaret solid as Russ pavement. Oh, how many wonderful things prayer has accomplished! Have you ever tried it? In the days when the Scotch Covenanters were persecuted, and the enemies were after them, one of the head men among the Covenanters prayed: "Oh, Lord, we be as dead men unless Thou shalt help us! Oh, Lord, throw the lap of Thy cloak over these poor things!" And instantly a Scotch mist enveloped and hid the persecuted from their persecutors--the promise literally fulfilled: "While they are yet speaking I will hear." Oh, impenitent soul, have you ever tried the power of prayer? God says: "He is loving, and faithful, and patient." Do you believe that? You are told that Christ came to save sinners. Do you believe that? You are told that all you have to do to get the pardon of the Gospel is to ask for it. Do you believe that? Then come to Him and say: "Oh, Lord! I know Thou canst not lie. Thou hast told me to come for pardon, and I could get it. I come, Lord. Keep Thy promise, and liberate my captive soul." Oh, that you might have an altar in the parlor, in the kitchen, in the store, in the barn, for Christ will be willing to come again to the manger to hear prayer. He would come in your place of business, as He confronted Matthew, the tax commissioner. If a measure should come before Congress that you thought would ruin the nation, how you would send in petitions and remonstrances! And yet there has been enough sin in your heart to ruin it forever, and you have never remonstrated or petitioned against it. If your physical health failed, and you had the means, you would go and spend the summer in Germany, and the winter in Italy, and you would think it a very cheap outlay if you had to go all round the earth to get back your physical health. Have you made any effort, any expenditure, any exertion for your immortal and spiritual health? No, you have not taken one step. O that you might now begin to seek after God with earnest prayer. Some of you have been working for years and years for the support of your families. Have you given one half day to the working out of your salvation with fear and trembling? You came here this morning with an earnest purpose, I take it, as I have come hither with an earnest purpose, and we meet face to face, and I tell you, first of all, if you want to find the Lord, you must pray, and pray, and pray. I remark again, you must seek the Lord through Bible study. The Bible is the newest book in the world. "Oh," you say, "it was made hundreds of years ago, and the learned men of King James translated it hundreds of years ago." I confute that idea by telling you it is not five minutes old, when God, by His blessed Spirit, retranslates it into the heart. If you will, in the seeking of the way of life through Scripture study, implore God's light to fall upon the page, you will find that these promises are not one second old, and that they drop straight from the throne of God into your heart. There are many people to whom the Bible does not amount to much. If they merely look at the outside beauty, why it will no more lead them to Christ than Washington's farewell address or the Koran of Mohammed or the Shaster of the Hindoos. It is the inward light of God's Word you must get or die. I went up to the church of the Madeleine, in Paris, and looked at the doors which were the most wonderfully constructed I ever saw, and I could have stayed there for a whole week; but I had only a little time, so, having glanced at the wonderful carving on the doors, I passed in and looked at the radiant altars, and the sculptured dome. Alas, that so many stop at the outside door of God's Holy Word, looking at the rhetorical beauties, instead of going in and looking at the altars of sacrifice and the dome of God's mercy and salvation that hovers over penitent and believing souls! O my friends! if you merely want to study the laws of language, do not go to the Bible. It was not made for that. Take "Howe's Elements of Criticism"--it will be better than the Bible for that. If you want to study metaphysics, better than the Bible will be the writings of William Hamilton. But if you want to know how to have sin pardoned, and at last to gain the blessedness of Heaven, search the Scriptures, "for in them ye have eternal life." When people are anxious about their souls--and there are some such here to-day--there are those who recommend good books. That is all right. But I want to tell you that the Bible is the best book under such circumstances. Baxter wrote "A Call to the Unconverted," but the Bible is the best call to the unconverted. Philip Doddridge wrote "The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul," but the Bible is the best rise and progress. John Angell James wrote "Advice to the Anxious Inquirer," but the Bible is the best advice to the anxious inquirer. O, the Bible is the very book you need, anxious and inquiring soul! A dying soldier said to his mate: "Comrade, give me a drop!" The comrade shook up the canteen, and said: "There isn't a drop of water in the canteen." "Oh," said the dying soldier, "that's not what I want; feel in my knapsack for my Bible," and his comrade found the Bible, and read him a few of the gracious promises, and the dying soldier said: "Ah, that's what I want. There isn't anything like the Bible for a dying soldier, is there, my comrade?" O blessed book while we live! Blessed book when we die! I remark, again, we must seek God through church ordinances. "What," say you, "can't a man be saved without going to church?" I reply, there are men, I suppose, in glory, who have never seen a church: but the church is the ordained means by which we are to be brought to God; and if truth affects us when we are alone, it affects us more mightily when we are in the assembly--the feelings of others emphasizing our own feelings. The great law of sympathy comes into play, and a truth that would take hold only with the grasp of a sick man, beats mightily against the soul with a thousand heart-throbs. When you come into the religious circle, come only with one notion, and only for one purpose--to find the way to Christ. When I see people critical about sermons, and critical about tones of voice, and critical about sermonic delivery, they make me think of a man in prison. He is condemned to death, but an officer of the government brings a pardon and puts it through the wicket of the prison, and says: "Here is your pardon. Come and get it." "What! Do you expect me to take that pardon offered with such a voice as you have, with such an awkward manner as you have? I would rather die than so compromise my rhetorical notions!" Ah, the man does not say that; he takes it! It is his life. He does not care how it is handed to him. And if, this morning, that pardon from the throne of God is offered to our souls, should we not seize it, regardless of all criticism, feeling that it is a matter of heaven or hell? But I come now to the last part of my text. It tells us when we are to seek the Lord. "While He may be found." When is that? Old age? You may not see old age. To-morrow? You may not see to-morrow. To-night? You may not see to-night. Now! O if I could only write on every heart in three capital letters, that word N-O-W--Now! Sin is an awful disease. I hear people say with a toss of the head and with a trivial manner: "Oh, yes, I'm a sinner." Sin is an awful disease. It is leprosy. It is dropsy. It is consumption. It is all moral disorders in one. Now you know there is a crisis in a disease. Perhaps you have had some illustration of it in your family. Sometimes the physician has called, and he has looked at the patient and said: "That case was simple enough; but the crisis has passed. If you had called me yesterday, or this morning, I could have cured the patient. It is too late now; the crisis has passed." Just so it is in the spiritual treatment of the soul--there is a crisis. Before that, life! After that, death! O my dear brother, as you love your soul do not let the crisis pass unattended to! There are some here who can remember instances in life when, if they had bought a certain property, they would have become very rich. A few acres that would have cost them almost nothing were offered them. They refused them. Afterward a large village or city sprung up on those acres of ground, and they see what a mistake they made in not buying the property. There was an opportunity of getting it. It never came back again. And so it is in regard to a man's spiritual and eternal fortune. There is a chance; if you let that go, perhaps it never comes back. Certainly, that one never comes back. A gentleman told me that at the battle of Gettysburg he stood upon a height looking off upon the conflicting armies. He said it was the most exciting moment of his life; now one army seeming to triumph, and now the other. After awhile the host wheeled in such a way that he knew in five minutes the whole question would be decided. He said the emotion was almost unbearable. There is just such a time to-day with you, O impenitent soul!--the forces of light on the one side, and the siege-guns of hell on the other side, and in a few moments the matter will be settled for eternity. There is a time which mercy has set for leaving port. If you are on board before that, you will get a passage for heaven. If you are not on board, you miss your passage for heaven. As in law courts a case is sometimes adjourned from term to term, and from year to year till the bill of costs eats up the entire estate, so there are men who are adjourning the matter of religion from time to time, and from year to year, until heavenly bliss is the bill of costs the man will have to pay for it. Why defer this matter, oh, my dear hearer? Have you any idea that sin will wear out? that it will evaporate? that it will relax its grasp? that you may find religion as a man accidentally finds a lost pocket-book? Ah, no! No man ever became a Christian by accident, or by the relaxing of sin. The embarrassments are all the time increasing. The hosts of darkness are recruiting, and the longer you postpone this matter the steeper the path will become. I ask those men who are before me this morning, whether, in the ten or fifteen years they have passed in the postponement of these matters, they have come any nearer God or heaven? I would not be afraid to challenge this whole audience, so far as they may not have found the peace of the Gospel, in regard to the matter. Your hearts, you are willing frankly to tell me, are becoming harder and harder, and that if you come to Christ it will be more of an undertaking now than it ever would have been before. Oh, fly for refuge! The avenger of blood is on the track! The throne of judgment will soon be set; and, if you have anything to do toward your eternal salvation, you had better do it now, for the redemption of your soul is precious, and it ceaseth forever! Oh, if men could only catch just one glimpse of Christ, I know they would love Him! Your heart leaps at the sight of a glorious sunrise or sunset. Can you be without emotion as the Sun of Righteousness rises behind Calvary, and sets behind Joseph's sepulcher? He is a blessed Saviour! Every nation has its type of beauty. There is German beauty, and Swiss beauty, and Italian beauty, and English beauty; but I care not in what land a man first looks at Christ, he pronounces Him "chief among ten thousand, and the One altogether lovely." O my blessed Jesus! Light in darkness! The Rock on which I build! The Captain of Salvation! My joy! My strength! How strange it is that men can not love Thee! The diamond districts of Brazil are carefully guarded, and a man does not get in there except by a pass from the government; but the love of Christ is a diamond district we may all enter, and pick up treasures for eternity. Oh, cry for mercy! "To-day, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts." There is a way of opposing the mercy of God too long, and then there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin, but a fearful looking for judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversary. My friends, my neighbors, what can I say to induce you to attend to this matter--to attend to it now? Time is flying, flying--the city clock joining my voice this moment, seeming to say to you, "Now is the time! Now is the time!" Oh, put it not off! Why should I stand here and plead, and you sit there? It is your immortal soul. It is a soul that shall never die. It is a soul that must soon appear before God for review. Why throw away your chance for heaven? Why plunge off into darkness when all the gates of glory are open? Why become a castaway from God when you can sit upon the throne? Why will ye die miserably when eternal life is offered you, and it will cost you nothing but just willingness to accept it? "Come, for all things are now ready." Come, Christ is ready, pardon is ready! The Church is ready. Heaven is ready. You will never find a more convenient season, if you should live fifty years more, than this very one. Reject this, and you may die in your sins. Why do I say this? Is it to frighten your soul? Oh, no! It is to persuade you. I show you the peril. I show you the escape. Would I not be a coward beyond all excuse, if, believing that this great audience must soon be launched into the eternal world, and that all who believe in Christ shall be saved, and that all who reject Christ will be lost--would I not be the veriest coward on earth to hide that truth or to stand before you with a cold, or even a placid manner? My dear brethren, now is the day of your redemption. It is very certain that you and I must soon appear before God in judgment. We can not escape it. The Bible says: "Every eye shall see Him, and they also which pierced Him, and all the kindreds of the earth shall wail because of Him." On that day all our advantages will come up for our glory or for our discomfiture--every prayer, every sermon, every exhortatory remark, every reproof, every call of grace; and while the heavens are rolling away like a scroll, and the world is being destroyed, your destiny and my destiny will be announced. Alas! alas! if on that day it is found that we have neglected these matters. We may throw them off now. We can not then. We will all be in earnest then. But no pardon then. No offer of salvation then. No rescue then. Driven away in our wickedness--banished, exiled, forever! Have you ever imagined what will be the soliloquy of the soul on that day unpardoned, as it looks back upon its past life? "Oh," says the soul, "I had glorious Sabbaths! There was one Sabbath in autumn when I was invited to Christ. There was a Sabbath morning when Jesus stood and spread out His arm and invited me to His holy heart. I refused Him. I have destroyed myself. I have no one else to blame. Ruin complete! Darkness unpitying, deep, eternal! I am lost! Notwithstanding all the opportunities I have had of being saved, I am lost! O Thou long-suffering Lord God Almighty, I am lost! O day of judgment, I am lost! O father, mother, brother, sister, child in glory, I am lost!" And then as the tide goes out, your soul goes out with it--further from God, further from happiness, and I hear your voice fainter, and fainter, and fainter: "Lost! Lost! Lost! Lost! Lost!" O ye dying, yet immortal men, "seek the Lord while He may be found." But I want you to take the hint of the text that I have no time to dwell on--the hint that there is a time when He can not be found. There is a man in New York, eighty years of age, who said to a clergyman who came in, "Do you think that a man at eighty years of age can get pardoned?" "Oh, yes," said the clergyman. The old man said: "I can't; when I was twenty years of age--I am now eighty years--the Spirit of God came to my soul, and I felt the importance of attending to these things, but I put it off. I rejected God, and since then I have had no feeling." "Well," said the minister, "wouldn't you like to have me pray with you?" "Yes," replied the old man, "but it will do no good. You can pray with me if you like to." The minister knelt down and prayed, and commended the man's soul to God. It seemed to have no effect upon him. After awhile the last hour of the man's life came, and through his delirium a spark of intelligence seemed to flash, and with his last breath he said; "I shall never be forgiven!" "O seek the Lord while He may be found." THE GREAT ASSIZE. DOCTOR TALMAGE'S SERMON, PREACHED AT CORK, IRELAND, SUNDAY MORNING, SEPT 6th, 1885. "When the Son of Man shall come in His glory, and all the holy angels with Him, then shall He sit upon the throne of His glory: and before Him shall be gathered all nations: and He shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats."--MATTHEW xxv: 31, 32. Half-way between Chamouny, Switzerland, and Martigny, I reined in the horse on which I was riding, and looked off upon the most wonderful natural amphitheater of valley and mountain and rock, and I said to my companion, "What an appropriate place this would be for the last judgment. Yonder overhanging rock the place for the judgment seat. These galleries of surrounding hills occupied by attendant angels. This vast valley, sweeping miles this way and miles that, the audience-room for all nations." But sacred geography does not point out the place. Yet we know that somewhere, some time, somehow, an audience will be gathered together stupendous beyond all statistics, and just as certainly as you and I make up a part of this audience to-day, we will make up a part of that audience on that day. A common sense of justice in every man's heart demands that there shall be some great winding-up day, in which that which is now inexplicable shall be explained. Why did that good man suffer, and that bad man prosper? You say, "I don't know, but I must know." Why is that good Christian woman dying of what is called a spider cancer, while that daughter of folly sits wrapped in luxury, ease, and health? You say, "I don't know, but I must know." There are so many wrongs to be righted that if there were not some great righting-up day in the presence of all ages, there would be an outcry against God from which His glory would never recover. If God did not at last try the nations, the nations would try Him. We are, therefore, ready for the announcement of the text. The world never saw Christ except in disguise. If once when He was on earth He had let out His glory, instead of the blind eyes being healed, all visions would have been extinguished. No human eye could have endured it. And instead of bringing the dead to life, all around about him would have been the slain under that overpowering effulgence. Disguise of human flesh. Disguise of seamless robe. Disguise of sandal. Disguise of voice. From Bethlehem caravansary to mausoleum in the rock, a complete disguise. But on the day of which I speak the Son of Man will come in His glory. No hiding of luster. No sheathing of strength. No suppression of grandeur. No wrapping out of sight of the Godhead. Any fifty of the most brilliant sunsets that you ever saw on land or sea would be dim as compared with the cerulean appearance on that day when Christ rolls through, and rolls on, and rolls down in His glory. The air will be all abloom with His presence, and everything from horizon to horizon aflame with His splendor. Elijah rode up the sky-steep in a chariot, the wheels of whirling fire and the horses of galloping fire, and the charioteer drawing reins of fire on bits of fire; but Christ will need no such equipage, for the law of gravitation will be laid aside, and the natural elements will be laid aside, and Christ will descend swiftly enough to make speedy arrival, but slowly enough to allow the gaze of millions of spectators. In his glory! Glory of form, glory of omnipotence, glory of holiness, glory of justice, glory of love. In His glory! An unveiled, an uncovered God descending to meet the human race in an interview which will be prolonged only for a few hours, and yet which shall settle all the past and all the present and all the future, and be closed before the end of that day, which will close, not with setting sun, but with the destruction of the planet as a snuffers takes off the top of a burned wick. It is a solemn time in a court-room when there is an important case on hand, and the judge of the Supreme Court enters, and he sits down, and with gavel strikes on the desk commanding bar and jury and witnesses and audience into silence. All voices are hushed, all heads are uncovered. But how much more impressive when Christ shall take the judgment seat on the last day of the last week of the last month of the last year of the world's existence, and with gavel of thunder-bolt shall smite the mountains, commanding all the land and all the sea into silence. Can you have any doubt about who it is on the seat on the judgment day? Better make investigation, to see whether there are any scars about Him that reveal His person. Apparel may change. You can not always tell by apparel. But scars will tell the story after all else fails. I find under His left arm a scar, and on His right hand a scar, and on His left hand a scar, and on His right foot a scar, and on His left foot a scar. Oh, yes, He is the Son of Man in His glory. Every mark of wound now a badge of victory, every ridge showing the fearful gash now telling the story of pain and sacrifice which He suffered in behalf of the human race. But what is all that commotion and flutter, and surging to and fro above Him and on either side of Him? It is a detailed regiment of heaven, a constabulary angelic, sent forth to take part in that scene, and to execute the mandates that shall be issued. Ten regiments, a hundred regiments, a thousand regiments of angels; for on that day all heaven will be emptied of its inhabitants to let them attend the scene. All the holy angels. From what a center to what a circumference. Widening out and widening out, and higher up and higher up. Wings interlocking wings. Galleries of cloud above galleries of cloud, all filled with the faces of angels come to listen and come to watch, and come to help on that day for which all other days were made. Who are those two taller and more conspicuous angels? The one is Michael, who is the commander of all those who come out to destroy sin. The other is Gabriel, who is announced as commander of all those who come forth to help the righteous. Who is that mighty angel near the throne? That is the resurrection angel, his lips still aquiver and his cheek aflush with the blast that shattered the cemeteries and woke the dead. Who is that other great angel, with dark and overshadowing brow? That is the one who in one night, by one flap of his wing, turned one hundred and eighty-five thousand of Sennacherib's host into corpses. Who are those bright immortals near the throne, their faces partly turned toward each other as though about to sing? Oh, they are the Bethlehem chanters of the first Christmas night! Who are this other group standing so near the throne? They are the Saviour's especial bodyguard, which hovered over Him in the wilderness and administered to Him in the hour of martyrdom, and heaved away the rock of His sarcophagus, and escorted Him upward on Ascension Day, now appropriately escorting Him down. Divine glory flanked on both sides by angelic radiance. But now lower your eye from the divine and angelic to the human. The entire human race is present. All nations, says my text. Before that time the American Republic, the English Government, the French Republic, all modern modes of government may be obliterated for something better; but all nations, whether dead or alive, will be brought up into that assembly. Thebes and Tyre and Babylon and Greece and Rome as wide awake in that assembly as though they had never slumbered amid the dead nations. Europe, Asia, Africa, North and South America, and all the nineteenth century, the eighteenth century, the twelfth century, the tenth century, the fourth century--all centuries present. Not one being that ever drew the breath of life but will be in that assembly. No other audience a thousandth part as large. No other audience a millionth part as large. No human eye could look across it. Wing of albatross and falcon and eagle not strong enough to fly over it. A congregation, I verily believe, not assembled on any continent, because no continent would be large enough to hold it. But, as the Bible intimates, in the air. The law of gravitation unanchored, the world moved out of its place. As now sometimes on earth a great tent is spread for some great convention, so over that great audience of the judgment shall be lifted the blue canopy of the sky, and underneath it for floor the air made buoyant by the hand of Almighty God. An architecture of atmospheric galleries strong enough to hold up worlds. Surely the two arms of God's almightiness are two pillars strong enough to hold up any auditorium. But that audience is not to remain in session long. Most audiences on earth after an hour or two adjourn. Sometimes in court-rooms an audience will tarry four or five hours, but then it adjourns. So this audience spoken of in the text will adjourn. My text says, "He will separate them one from another as a shepherd divideth the sheep from the goats." "No," says my Universalist friend, "let them all stay together." But the text says, "He shall separate them." "No," say the kings of this world, "let men have their choice, and if they prefer monarchical institutions, let them go together, and if they prefer republican institutions, let them go together." "No," say the conventionalities of this world, "let all those who moved in what are called high circles go together, and all those who on earth moved in low circles go together. The rich together, the poor together, the wise together, the ignorant together." Ah! no. Do you not notice in that assembly the king is without his scepter, and the soldier without his uniform, and the bishop without his pontifical ring, and the millionaire without his certificates of stock, and the convict without his chain, and the beggar without his rags, and the illiterate without his bad orthography, and all of us without any distinction of earthly inequality? So I take it from that as well as from my text that the mere accident of position in this world will do nothing toward deciding the questions of that very great day. "He will separate them as a shepherd divideth the sheep from the goats." The sheep, the cleanliest of creatures, here made a symbol of those who have all their sins washed away in the fountain of redeeming mercy. The goat, one of the filthiest of creatures, here a type of those who in the last judgment will be found never to have had any divine ablution. Division according to character. Not only character outside, but character inside. Character of heart, character of choice, character of allegiance, character of affection, character inside as well as character outside. In many cases it will be a complete and immediate reversal of all earthly conditions. Some who in this world wore patched apparel will take on raiment lustrous as a summer noon. Some who occupied a palace will take a dungeon. Division regardless of all earthly caste, and some who were down will be up, and some who were up will be down. Oh, what a shattering of conventionalities! What an upheaval of all social rigidities, what a turning of the wheel of earthly condition, a thousand revolutions in a second! Division of all nations, of all ages, not by the figure 9, nor the figure 8, nor the figure 7, nor the figure 6, nor the figure 5, nor the figure 4; but by the figure 2. Two! Two characters, two destinies, two estates, two dominions, two eternities, a tremendous, an all-comprehensive, an all-decisive, and everlasting two! I sometimes think that the figure of the book that shall be opened allows us to forget the thing signified by the symbol. Where is the book-binder that could make a volume large enough to contain the names of all the people who have ever lived? Besides that, the calling of such a roll would take more than fifty years, more than a hundred years, and the judgment is to be consummated in less time than passes between sunrise and sunset. Ah! my friends, the leaves of that book of judgment are not made out of paper, but of memory. One leaf in every human heart. You have known persons who were near drowning, but they were afterward resuscitated, and they have told you that in the two or three minutes between the accident and the resuscitation, all their past life flashed before them--all they had ever thought, all they had ever done, all they had ever seen, in an instant came to them. The memory never loses anything. It is only a folded leaf. It is only a closed book. Though you be an octogenarian, though you be a nonagenarian, all the thoughts and acts of your life are in your mind, whether you recall them now or not, just as Macaulay's history is in two volumes, although the volumes may be closed, and you can not see a word of them, and will not until they are opened. As in the case of the drowning man, the volume of memory was partly open, or the leaf partly unrolled; in the case of the judgment the entire book will be opened, so that everything will be displayed from preface to appendix. You have seen self-registering instruments which recorded how many revolutions they had made and what work they had done, so the manufacturer could come days after and look at the instrument and find just how many revolutions had been made, or how much work had been accomplished. So the human mind is a self-registering instrument, and it records all its past movements. Now that leaf, that all-comprehensive leaf in your mind and mine this moment, the leaf of judgment, brought out under the flash of the judgment throne, you can easily see how all the past of our lives in an instant will be seen. And so great and so resplendent will be the light of that throne that not only this leaf in my heart and that leaf in your heart will be revealed at a flash, but all the leaves will be opened, and you will read not only your own character and your own history, but the character and history of others. In a military encampment the bugle sounded in one way means one thing, and sounded in another way it means another thing. Bugle sounded in one way means, "Prepare for sudden attack." Bugle sounded in another way means, "To your tents, and let all the lights be put out." I have to tell you, my brother, that the trumpet of the Old Testament, the trumpet that was carried in the armies of olden times, and the trumpet on the walls in olden times, in the last great day will give significant reverberation. Old, worn-out, and exhausted Time, having marched across decades and centuries and ages, will halt, and the sun and the moon and the stars will halt with it. The trumpet! the trumpet! Peal the first: Under its power the sea will stretch itself out dead, the white foam on the lip, in its crystal sarcophagus, and the mountains will stagger and reel and stumble, and fall into the valleys never to rise. Under one puff of that last cyclone all the candles of the sky will be blown out. The trumpet! the trumpet! Peal the second: The alabaster halls of the air will be filled with those who will throng up from all the cemeteries of all the ages--from Greyfriar's Churchyard and Roman Catacomb, from Westminster Abbey and from the coral crypts of oceanic cave, and some will rend off the bandage of Egyptian mummy, and others will remove from their brow the garland of green sea-weed. From the north and the south and the east and the west they come. The dead! The trumpet! the trumpet! Peal the third: Amid surging clouds and the roar of attendant armies of heaven, the Lord comes through, and there are lightnings and thunder-bolts, and an earthquake, and a hallelujah, and a wailing. The trumpet! the trumpet! Peal the fourth: All the records of human life will be revealed. The leaf containing the pardoned sin, the leaf containing the unpardoned sin. Some clapping hands with joy, some grinding their teeth with rage, and all the forgotten past becomes a vivid present. The trumpet! the trumpet! Peal the last: The audience breaks up. The great trial is ended. The high court of heaven adjourns. The audience hie themselves to their two termini. They rise, they rise! They sink, they sink! Then the blue tent of the sky will be lifted and folded up and put away. Then the auditorium of atmospheric galleries will be melted. Then the folded wings of attendant angels will be spread for upward flight. The fiery throne of judgment will become a dim and a vanishing cloud. The conflagration of divine and angelic magnificence will roll back and off. The day for which all other days are made has closed, and the world has burned down, and the last cinder has gone out, and an angel flying on errand from world to world will poise long enough over the dead earth to chant the funeral litany as he cries, "Ashes to ashes!" That judgment leaf in your heart I seize hold of this moment for cancellation. In your city halls the great book of mortgages has a large margin, so that when the mortgagor has paid the full amount to the mortgagee, the officer of the law comes, and he puts down on that margin the payment and the cancellation; and though that mortgage demanded vast thousands before, now it is null and void. So I have to tell you that that leaf in my heart and in your heart, that leaf of judgment, that all-comprehensive leaf, has a wide margin for cancellation. There is only one hand in all the universe that can touch that margin. That hand this moment lifted to make the record null and void forever. It may be a trembling hand, for it is a wounded hand, the nerves were cut and the muscles were lacerated. That record on that leaf was made in the black ink of condemnation; but if cancellation take place, it will be made in the red ink of sacrifice. O judgment-bound brother and sister! let Christ this moment bring to that record complete and glorious cancellation. This moment, in an outburst of impassioned prayer, ask for it. You think it is the fluttering of your heart. Oh, no! it is the fluttering of that leaf, that judgment leaf. I ask you not to take from your iron safe your last will and testament, but I ask for something of more importance than that. I ask you not to take from your private papers that letter so sacred that you have put it away from all human eyesight, but I ask you for something of more meaning than that. That leaf, that judgment leaf in my heart, that judgment leaf in your heart, which will decide our condition after this world shall have five thousand million years been swept out the heavens, an extinct planet, and time itself will be so long past that on the ocean of eternity it will seem only as now seems a ripple on the Atlantic. When the goats in vile herd start for the barren mountains of death, and the sheep in fleeces of snowy whiteness and bleating with joy move up the terraced hills to join the lambs already playing in the high pastures of celestial altitude, oh, may you and I be close by the Shepherd's crook! "When the Son of Man shall come in His glory, and all the holy angels with Him, then shall He sit upon the throne of His glory; and before Him shall be gathered all nations; and He shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth the sheep from the goats." Oh, that leaf, that one leaf in my heart, that one leaf in your heart! That leaf of judgment! Oh, those two tremendous words at the last, "Come!" "Go!" As though the overhanging heavens were the cup of a great bell, and all the stars were welded into a silvery tongue and swung from side to side until it struck, "Come!" As though all the great guns of eternal disaster were discharged at once, and they boomed forth in one resounding cannonade of "Go!" Arithmetical sum in simple division. Eternity the dividend. The figure two the divisor. Your unalterable destiny the quotient. THE ROAD TO THE CITY. "And an highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called the way of holiness; the unclean shall not pass over it; but it shall be for those: the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein. No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon, it shall not be found there; but the redeemed shall walk there; and the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away."--ISAIAH xxxv: 8-10. There are hundreds of people in this house this morning who want to find the right road. You sometimes see a person halting at cross roads, and you can tell by his looks that he wishes to ask a question as to what direction he had better take. And I stand in your presence this morning conscious of the fact that there are many of you here who realize that there are a thousand wrong roads, but only one right one; and I take it for granted that you have come in to ask which one it is. Here is one road that opens widely, but I have not much faith in it. There are a great many expensive toll-gates scattered all along that way. Indeed at every road you must pay in tears, or pay in genuflexions, or pay in flagellations. On that road, if you get through it at all, you have to pay your own way; and since this differs so much from what I have heard in regard to the right way, I believe it is the wrong way. Here is another road. On either side of it are houses of sinful entertainment, and invitations to come in, and dine and rest; but, from the looks of the people who stand on the piazza I am very certain that it is the wrong house and the wrong way. Here is another road. It is very beautiful and macadamized. The horses' hoofs clatter and ring, and they who ride over it spin along the highway, until suddenly they find that the road breaks over an embankment, and they try to halt, and they saw the bit in the mouth of the fiery steed, and cry "Ho! ho!" But it is too late, and--crash!--they go over the embankment. We shall turn, this morning, and see if we can not find a different kind of a road. You have heard of the Appian Way. It was three hundred and fifty miles long. It was twenty-four feet wide, and on either side the road was a path for foot passengers. It was made out of rocks cut in hexagonal shape and fitted together. What a road it must have been! Made of smooth, hard rock, three hundred and fifty miles long. No wonder that in the construction of it the treasures of a whole empire were exhausted. Because of invaders, and the elements, and time--the old conqueror who tears up a road as he goes over it--there is nothing left of that structure excepting a ruin. But I have this morning to tell you of a road built before the Appian Way, and yet it is as good as when first constructed. Millions of souls have gone over it. Millions more will come. "The prophets and apostles, too, Pursued this road while here below; We therefore will, without dismay Still walk in Christ, the good old way." "An highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called the way of holiness; the unclean shall not pass over it; but it shall be for those: the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein. No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon, it shall not be found there; but the redeemed shall walk there; and the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away!" I. First, this road of the text is the King's highway. In the diligence you dash over the Bernard pass of the Alps, mile after mile, and there is not so much as a pebble to jar the wheels. You go over bridges which cross chasms that make you hold your breath; under projecting rock; along by dangerous precipices; through tunnels adrip with the meltings of the glaciers; and, perhaps for the first time, learn the majesty of a road built and supported by government authority. Well, my Lord the King decided to build a highway from earth to heaven. It should span all the chasms of human wretchedness; it should tunnel all the mountains of earthly difficulty; it should be wide enough and strong enough to hold fifty thousand millions of the human race, if so many of them should ever be born. It should be blasted out of the "Rock of Ages," and cemented with the blood of the Cross, and be lifted amid the shouting of angels and the execration of devils. The King sent His Son to build that road. He put head and hand and heart to it, and, after the road was completed, waved His blistered hand over the way, crying, "It is finished!" Napoleon paid fifteen million francs for the building of the Simplon Road, that his cannon might go over for the devastation of Italy; but our King, at a greater expense, has built a road for a different purpose, that the banners of heavenly dominion might come down over it, and all the redeemed of earth travel up over it. Being a King's highway, of course it is well built. Bridges splendidly arched and buttressed have given way and crushed the passengers who attempted to cross them. But Christ, the King, would build no such thing as that. The work done, He mounts the chariot of His love, and multitudes mount with Him, and He drives on and up the steep of heaven amid the plaudits of gazing worlds! The work is done--well done--gloriously done--magnificently done. II. Still further: this road spoken of is a clean road. Many a fine road has become miry and foul because it has not been properly cared for; but my text says the unclean shall not walk on this one. Room on either side to throw away your sins. Indeed, if you want to carry them along, you are not on the right road. That bridge will break, those overhanging rocks will fall, the night will come down, leaving you at the mercy of the mountain bandits, and at the very next turn of the road you will perish. But if you are really on this clean road of which I have been speaking, then you will stop ever and anon to wash in the water that stands in the basin of the eternal rock. Ay, at almost every step of the journey you will be crying out: "Create within me a clean heart!" If you have no such aspirations as that, it proves that you have mistaken your way; and if you will only look up and see the finger-board above your head, you may read upon it the words: "There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof is death." Without holiness no man shall see the Lord; and if you have any idea that you can carry along your sins, your lusts, your worldliness, and yet get to the end of the Christian race, you are so awfully mistaken that, in the name of God, this morning I shatter the delusion. III. Still further, the road spoken of is a plain road. "The wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein." That is, if a man is three fourths an idiot, he can find this road just as well as if he were a philosopher. The imbecile boy, the laughing-stock of the street, and followed by a mob hooting at him, has only just to knock once at the gate of heaven, and it swings open: while there has been many a man who can lecture about pneumatics, and chemistry, and tell the story of Farraday's theory of electrical polarization, and yet has been shut out of heaven. There has been many a man who stood in an observatory and swept the heavens with his telescope, and yet has not been able to see the Morning Star. Many a man has been familiar with all the higher branches of mathematics, and yet could not do the simple sum, "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" Many a man has been a fine reader of tragedies and poems, and yet could not "read his title clear to mansions in the skies." Many a man has botanized across the continent, and yet not know the "Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley." But if one shall come in the right spirit, crying the way to heaven, he will find it a plain way. The pardon is plain. The peace is plain. Everything is plain. He who tries to get on the road to heaven through the New Testament teaching will get on beautifully. He who goes through philosophical discussion will not get on at all. Christ says: "Come to Me, and I will take all your sins away, and I will take all your troubles away." Now what is the use of my discussing it any more? Is not that plain? If you wanted to go to Albany, and I pointed you out a highway thoroughly laid out, would I be wise in detaining you by a geological discussion about the gravel you will pass over, or a physiological discussion about the muscles you will have to bring into play? No. After this Bible has pointed you the way to heaven, is it wise for me to detain you with any discussion about the nature of the human will, or whether the atonement is limited or unlimited? There is the road--go on it. It is a plain way. "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." And that is you and that is me. Any little child here can understand this as well as I can. "Unless you become as a little child, you can not see the kingdom of God." If you are saved, it will not be as a philosopher, it will be as a little child. "Of such is the kingdom of Heaven." Unless you get the spirit of little children, you will never come out at their glorious destiny. IV. Still further: this road to heaven is a safe road. Sometimes the traveler in those ancient highways would think himself perfectly secure, not knowing there was a lion by the way, burying his head deep between his paws, and then, when the right moment came, under the fearful spring the man's life was gone, and there was a mauled carcass by the roadside. But, says my text, "No lion shall be there." I wish I could make you feel, this morning, your entire security. I tell you plainly that one minute after a man has become a child of God, he is as safe as though he had been ten thousand years in heaven. He may slip, he may slide, he may stumble; but he can not be destroyed. Kept by the power of God, through faith, unto complete salvation. Everlastingly safe. The severest trial to which you can subject a Christian man is to kill him, and that is glory. In other words, the worst thing that can happen a child of God is heaven. The body is only the old slippers that he throws aside just before putting on the sandals of light. His soul, you can not hurt it. No fires can consume it. No floods can drown it. No devils can capture it. "Firm and unmoved are they Who rest their souls on God; Fixed as the ground where David stood, Or where the ark abode." His soul is safe. His reputation is safe. Everything is safe. "But," you say, "suppose his store burns up?" Why, then, it will be only a change of investments from earthly to heavenly securities. "But," you say, "suppose his name goes down under the hoof of scorn and contempt?" The name will be so much brighter in glory. "Suppose his physical health fails?" God will pour into him the floods of everlasting health, and it will not make any difference. Earthly subtraction is heavenly addition. The tears of earth are the crystals of heaven. As they take rags and tatters and put them through the paper-mill, and they come out beautiful white sheets of paper, so, often, the rags of earthly destitution, under the cylinders of death, come out a white scroll upon which shall be written eternal emancipation. There was one passage of Scripture, the force of which I never understood until one day at Chamounix, with Mont Blanc on one side, and Montanvent on the other, I opened my Bible and read: "As the mountains are around about Jerusalem, so the Lord is around about them that fear Him." The surroundings were an omnipotent commentary. "Though troubles assail, and dangers affright; Though friends should all fail, and foes all unite; Yet one thing secures us, whatever betide, The Scriptures assure us the Lord will provide." V. Still further: the road spoken of is a pleasant road. God gives a bond of indemnity against all evil to every man that treads it. "All things work together for good to those who love God." No weapon formed against them can prosper. That is the bond, signed, sealed, and delivered by the President of the whole universe. What is the use of your fretting, O child of God, about food? "Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them." And will He take care of the sparrow, will He take care of the hawk, and let you die? What is the use of your fretting about clothes? "Consider the lilies of the field. Shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?" What is the use worrying for fear something will happen to your home? "He blesseth the habitation of the just." What is the use of your fretting lest you will be overcome of temptations? "God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it." O this King's highway! Trees of life on either side, bending over until their branches interlock and drop midway their fruit and shade. Houses of entertainment on either side the road for poor pilgrims. Tables spread with a feast of good things, and walls adorned with apples of gold in pictures of silver. I start out on this King's highway, and I find a harper, and I say: "What is your name?" The harper makes no response, but leaves me to guess, as, with his eyes toward heaven and his hand upon the trembling strings this tune comes rippling on the air: "The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?" I go a little further on the same road and meet a trumpeter of heaven, and I say: "Haven't you got some music for a tired pilgrim?" And wiping his lip and taking a long breath, he puts his mouth to the trumpet and pours forth this strain: "They shall hunger no more, neither shall they thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat, for the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall lead them to living fountains of water, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." I go a little distance further on the same road, and I meet a maiden of Israel. She has no harp, but she has cymbals. They look as if they had rusted from sea-spray; and I say to the maiden of Israel: "Have you no song for a tired pilgrim?" And like the clang of victors' shields the cymbals clap as Miriam begins to discourse: "Sing ye to the Lord, for He hath triumphed gloriously; the horse and the rider hath He thrown into the sea." And then I see a white-robed group. They come bounding toward me, and I say: "Who are they? The happiest, and the brightest, and the fairest in all heaven--who are they?" And the answer comes: "These are they who came out of great tribulations, and had their robes washed and made white with the blood of the Lamb." I pursue this subject only one step further. What is the terminus? I do not care how fine a road you may put me on, I want to know where it comes out. My text declares it: "The redeemed of the Lord come to Zion." You know what Zion was. That was the King's palace. It was a mountain fastness. It was impregnable. And so heaven is the fastness of the universe. No howitzer has long enough range to shell those towers. Let all the batteries of earth and hell blaze away; they can not break in those gates. Gibraltar was taken, Sebastopol was taken, Babylon fell; but these walls of heaven shall never surrender either to human or Satanic besiegement. The Lord God Almighty is the defense of it. Great capital of the universe! Terminus of the King's highway! Doctor Dick said that, among other things, he thought in heaven we should study chemistry, and geometry, and conic sections. Southey thought that in heaven he would have the pleasure of seeing Chaucer and Shakespeare. Now, Doctor Dick may have his mathematics for all eternity, and Southey his Shakespeare. Give me Christ and my old friends--that is all the heaven I want, that is heaven enough for me. O garden of light, whose leaves never wither, and whose fruits never fail! O banquet of God, whose sweetness never palls the taste, and whose guests are kings forever! O city of light, whose walls are salvation, and whose gates are praise! O palace of rest, where God is the monarch and everlasting ages the length of His reign! O song louder than the surf-beat of many waters, yet soft as the whisper of cherubim! O my heaven! When my last wound is healed, when the last heart-break is ended, when the last tear of earthly sorrow is wiped away, and when the redeemed of the Lord shall come to Zion, then let all the harpers take down their harps, and all the trumpeters take down their trumpets, and all across heaven there be chorus of morning stars, chorus of white-robed victors, chorus of martyrs from under the throne, chorus of ages, chorus of worlds, and there be but one song sung, and but one name spoken, and but one throne honored--that of Jesus only. THE RANSOMLESS. "Beware lest He take thee away with His stroke: then a great ransom can not deliver thee."--JOB xxxvi: 18. Trouble makes some men mad. It was so with Job. He had lost his property, he had lost his physical health, he had lost his dear children, and the losses had led to exasperation instead of any spiritual profit. I suppose that he was in the condition that many are now in who sit before me. There are those here whose fortunes have begun to flap their wings, as though to fly away. There is a hollow cough in some of your dwellings. There is a subtraction of comfort and happiness, and you feel disgusted with the world, and impatient with many events that are transpiring in your history, and you are in the condition in which Job was when the words of my text accosted him: "Beware lest He take thee away with His stroke and then a ransom can not deliver thee." I propose to show you that sometimes God suddenly removes from us our gospel opportunities, and that, when He has done so, our case is ransomless. "Beware lest He take thee away with His stroke: then a great ransom can not deliver thee." I. Sometimes the stroke comes in the removal of the intellect. "Oh," says some man, "as long as I keep my mind I can afford to adjourn religion." But suppose you do not keep it? A fever, the hurling of a missile, the falling of a brick from a scaffolding, the accidental discharge of a gun--and your mind is gone. If you have ever been in an anatomical room, and have examined the human brain, you know what a delicate organ it is. And can it be possible that our eternity is dependent upon the healthy action of that which can be so easily destroyed? "Oh," says some one, "you don't know how strong a mind I have." I reply: Losses, accident, bereavement, and sickness may shipwreck the best physical or mental condition. There are those who have been ten years in lunatic asylums who had as good a mind as you. While they had their minds they neglected God, and when their intellect went, with it went their last opportunity for heaven. Now they are not responsible for what they do, or for what they say; but in the last day they will be held responsible for what they did when they were mentally well; and if, on that day, a soul should say: "Oh, God, I was demented, and I had no responsibility," God will say: "Yes, you were demented; but there were long years when you were not demented. That was your chance for heaven, and you missed it." Oh, better be, as the Scotch say, a little "daft," nevertheless having grace in the heart; better be like poor Richard Hampson, the Cornish fool, whose biography has just appeared in England--a silly man he was, yet bringing souls to Jesus Christ by scores and scores--giving an account of his own conversion, when he said: "The mob got after me, and I lost my hat, and climbed up by a meat-stand, in order that I might not be trampled under foot, and while I was there, my heart got on fire with love toward those who were chasing me, and, springing to my feet, I began to exhort and to pray." Oh, my God, let me be in the last, last day the Cornish fool, rather than have the best intellect God ever created unillumined by the Gospel of Jesus Christ! Consider what an uncertain possession you have in your intellect, when there are so many things around to destroy it; and beware, lest before you use it in making the religious choice, God takes it away with a stroke. I know a good many of my friends who are putting off religion until the last hour. They say when they get sick they will attend to it, but generally the intellect is beclouded; and oh; what a doleful thing it is to stand by a dying bed, and talk to a man about his soul, and feel, from what you see of the motion of his head, and the glare of his eye, and from what you hear of the jargon of his lips, that he does not understand what you are saying to him. I have stood beside the death-bed of a man who had lived a sinful life, and was as unprepared for eternity as it is possible for a man to be, and I tried to make him understand my pastoral errand; but all in vain. He could not understand it, and so he died. Oh! ye who are putting off until the sick hour preparation for eternity, let me tell you that in all probability, you will not be able in your last hour to attend to it at all. There are a great many people who say they will repent on the death-bed. I have no doubt there are many who have repented on the death-bed, but I think it is the exception. Albert Barnes, who was one of the coolest of men, and gave no rash statistics, said thus: that in a ministry of nearly half a century--he was over seventy when he went up to glory--he had known a great many people who said they repented on the dying bed, but, unexpectedly to themselves, got well; and he says, How many of those, do you suppose, who thought it was their dying bed, and who, after they repented on that dying bed, having got well, lived consistently, showing that it was real repentance, and not mock repentance--how many? not one! not one! II. Again: this stroke may come to you in the withdrawal of God's spirit. I see people before me who were, twenty years ago, serious about their souls. They are not now. They have no interest in what I am saying. They will never have any anxiety in what any minister of the Gospel says about their souls. Their time seems to have passed. I know a man, seventy-five years of age, who, in early life, became almost a Christian, but grieved away the spirit of God, and he has never thought earnestly since, and he can not be roused. I do not believe he will be roused until eternity flashes on his astonished vision. It does seem as if sometimes, in quite early life, the Holy Spirit moves upon a heart, and being grieved away and rejected, never comes back. You say that is all imaginary? A letter, the address of which I will not give, dated last Monday morning, came to me on Tuesday, saying this: "Your sermon last night (that is, last Sabbath night) did not fit my case, although I believe it did all others in the Academy; but your sermon of a week ago did fit my case, for I am 'past feeling.' I am not ashamed to be a Christian. I would as soon be known to be a Christian as anything else. Indeed, I wish I was, but I have not the least power to become one. Don't you know that with some persons there is a tide in their spiritual natures which, if taken at the flood, leads on to salvation? Such a tide I felt two years ago. I want you to pray for me, not that I may be led to Christ--for that prayer would not be answered--but that I may be kept from the temptation to suicide!" What I had to say to the author of that I said in a private letter; but what I have to say to this audience is: Beware lest you grieve the Holy Ghost, and He be gone, and never return. Next Wednesday, at two or three o'clock, a Cunard steamer will put out from Jersey City wharf for Liverpool. After it has gone one hour, and the vessel is down by the Narrows, or beyond, go out on the Jersey City wharf, and wave your hand, and shout, and ask that steamer to come back to the wharf. Will it? Yes, sooner than the Holy Ghost will come back when once He has taken his final flight from thy soul. With that Holy Spirit some of you have been in treaty, my dear friends. The Holy Spirit said: "Come, come to Christ." You said: "No, I won't." The Spirit said, more importunately: "Come to Christ." You said: "Well, I will after awhile, when I get my business fixed up; when my friends consent to my coming; when they won't laugh at me--then I'll come." But the Holy Spirit more emphatically said: "Come now." You said: "No, I can't. I can't come now." And that Holy Spirit stands in your heart to-night, with His hand on the door of your soul, ready to come out. Will you let Him depart? If so, then, with a pen of light, dipped in ink of eternal blackness, the sentence may be now writing: "Ephraim is joined to his idols. Let him alone! Let him alone!" When that fatal record is made, you might as well brace yourselves up against the sorrows of the last day, against the anguish of an unforgiven death-bed, against the flame and the overthrow of an undone eternity; for though you might live thirty years after that in the world, your fate would be as certain as though you had already entered the gates of darkness. That is the dead line. Look out how you cross it! "'There is a line by us unseen, That crosses every path; The hidden boundary between God's patience and His wrath.'" And some of you, to-night, have come up to that line. Ay, you have lifted your foot, and when you put it down, it will be on the other side! Look out how you cross it! Oh, grieve not the Spirit of God, lest He never come back! III. This fatal stroke spoken of in the text may be our exit from this world. I hear aged people sometimes saying: "I can't live much longer." But do you know the fact that there are a hundred young people and middle-aged people who go out of this life to one aged person, for the simple reason that there are not many aged people to leave life? The aged seem to stand around like stalks--separate stalks of wheat at the corner of the field; but when death goes a-mowing, he likes to go down amid the thick of the harvest. What is more to the point: a man's going out of this world is never in the way he expects--it is never at the time he expects. The moment of leaving this world is always a surprise. If you expect to go in the winter, it may be in the summer; if in the summer, it may be in the winter; if in the night, it maybe in the day-time; if you think to go in the day-time, it may be in the night. Suddenly the event will rush upon you, and you will be gone. Where? If a Christian--into joy. If not a Christian--into suffering. The Gospel call stops outside of the door of the sepulcher. The sleeper within can not hear it. If that call should be sounded out with clarion voice louder than ever rang through the air, that sleeper could not hear it. I suppose every hour of the day, and now, while I am speaking, there are souls rushing into eternity unprepared. They slide from the pillow, or they slip from the pavement, and in an eye-twinkling they are gone. Elegant and eloquent funeral oration will not do them any good. Epitaph, cut on polished Scotch granite, will not do them any good. Wailing of beloved kindred can not call them back. But, says some one: "I'll keep out of peril; I will not go on the sea, I will not go into battle--I'll keep out of all danger." That is no defense. Thousands of people, last night, on their couches, with the front door locked, and no armed assassin anywhere around, surrounded by all defended circumstances, slipped out of this life into the next. If time had been on one side of the shuttle and eternity on the other side of the shuttle, they could not have shot quicker across it. A man was saying: "My father was lost at sea, and my grandfather, and my great-grandfather. Wasn't it strange?" A man, talking to him, said: "You ought never to venture on the sea, lest you, yourself, be lost at sea." The man turned to the other, and said: "Where did your father die?" He replied: "In his bed." "Where did your grandfather die?" "In his bed." "Where did your great-grandfather die?" "In his bed." "Then," he said, "be careful, lest some night, while you are asleep on your couch, your time may come!" Death alone is sure. Suddenly, you and I will go out of life. I am not saying anything to your soul that I am not going to say to my own soul. We have got to go suddenly out of this life. If I am prepared for that change, I do not care where my body is taken from--at what point I am taken out of this life. If I am ready, all is well. If I am not ready, though I might be at home, and though my loved ones might be standing around me, and though there might be the best surgical and medical ability in the room, I tell you, if I were not prepared, I would be frightened more than tongue can tell. It may seem like cowardice, but I am not ashamed to say that I should have the most indescribable horror about going out of this world if I thought I was unprepared for the next--if I had no Christ in my soul; for it would be a plunge compared with which a leap from the top of Mont Blanc would be nothing. But this brings me to the most tremendous thought of my text. The text supposes that a man goes into ruin, and that an effort is made afterward for his rescue, and then says the thing can not be done. Is that so? After death seizes upon that soul, is there no resurrection? If a man topples off the edge of life, is there nothing to break his fall? If an impenitent man goes overboard, are there no grappling-hooks to hoist him into safety? The text says distinctly: "Then a great ransom can not deliver thee." I know there are people who call themselves "Restorationists," and they say a sinful man may go down into the world of the lost; he stays there until he gets reformed, and then comes up into the world of light and blessedness. It seems to me to be a most unreasonable doctrine--as though the world of darkness were a place where a man could get reformed. Is there anything in the society of the lost world--the abandoned and the wretched of God's universe--to elevate a man's character and lift him at last to heaven? Can we go into companionship of the Neroes and the Herods, and the Jim Fisks, and spend a certain number of years in that lost world, and then by that society be purified and lifted up? Is that the kind of society that reforms a man and prepares him for heaven? Would you go to Shreveport or Memphis, with the yellow fever there, to get your physical health restored? Can it be that a man may go down into the diseased world--a world overwhelmed by an epidemic of transgressions--and by that process, and in that atmosphere, be lifted up to health and glory? Your common sense says: "No! no!" In such society as that, instead of being restored, you would go down worse and worse, plunging every hour into deeper depths of suffering and darkness. What your common sense says the Bible reaffirms, when it says: "These shall go away into three months of punishment." I have quoted it wrong. "These shall go away into ten years of punishment." I have quoted it wrong. "These shall go into a thousand years of punishment." I have quoted it wrong. "These shall go into _everlasting_ punishment." And now I have quoted it right; or, if you prefer, in the words of my text: "Then a great ransom can not deliver thee." Now just suppose that a spirit should come down from heaven and knock at the gates of woe and say: "Let that man out! Let me come in and suffer in his stead. I will be the sacrifice. Let him come out." The grim jailer would reply: "No, you don't know what a place this is, or you would not ask to come in; besides that, this man had full warning and full opportunity of escape. He did not take the warning, and now a great ransom shall not deliver him." Sometimes men are sentenced to imprisonment for life. There comes another judge on the bench, there comes another governor in the chair, and in three or four years you find the man who was sentenced for life in the street. You say: "I thought you were sentenced for life." "Oh!" he says, "politics are changed, and I am now a free man." But it will not be so for a soul at the last. There will be no new judge or new governor. If at the end of a century a soul might come out, it would not be so bad. If at the end of a thousand years it might come out, it would not be so bad. If there were any time in all the future, in quadrillions and quadrillions of years, that the soul might come out, it would not be so bad; but if the Bible be true, it is a state of unending duration. Far on in the ages one lost soul shall cry out to another lost soul: "How long have you been here?" and the soul will reply: "The years of my ruin are countless. I estimated the time for thousands of years; but what is the use of estimating when all these rolling cycles bring us no nearer the terminus." Ages! Ages! Ages! Eternity! Eternity! Eternity! The wrath to come! The wrath to come! The wrath to come! No medicine to cure that marasmus of the soul. No hammer to strike off the handcuff of that incarceration. No burglar's key to pick the locks which the Lord hath fastened. Sir Francis Newport, in his last moment, caught just one glimpse of that world. He had lived a sinful life. Before he went into the eternal world he looked into it. The last words he ever uttered were, as he gathered himself up on his elbows in the bed: "Oh, the insufferable pangs of hell!" The lost soul will cry out: "I can not stand this! I can not stand this! Is there no way out?" and the echo will answer: "No way out." And the soul will cry: "Is this forever?" and the echo will answer: "Forever!" Is it all true? "These shall go away into everlasting punishment, while the righteous go into life eternal." Are there two destinies? and must all this audience share one or the other? Shall I give an account for what I have told you to-night? Have I held back any truth, though it were plain, though it were unpalatable? Must I meet you there, oh, you dying but immortal auditory? I wish that my text, with all its uplifted hands of warning, could come upon your souls: "Beware lest He take thee away with His stroke: then a great ransom can not deliver thee." Glory be to God, there is a ransom that can now deliver you, braver than Grace Darling putting out in a life-boat from Eddystone Light-house for the rescue of the crew of the Forfarshire steamer--Christ the Lord launched from heaven, amid the shouting of the angels. Thirty-three years afterward, Christ the Lord launched from earth to heaven, amid human and infernal execration; yet staying here long enough to save all who will believe in Him. Do you hear that? To save all who will believe in Him. Oh, that pierced side! Oh, that bleeding brow! Oh, that crushed foot! Oh, that broken heart! That is your hope, sinner. That is your ransom from sin, and death, and hell. Why have I told you all these things to-night, plainly and frankly? It is because I know there is redemption for you, and I would have you now come and get it. Oh, men and women long prayed for, and striven with, and coaxed of the mercy of God--have you concentrated all your physical, mental, and spiritual energies in one awful determination to be lost? Is there nothing in the value of your soul, in the graciousness of Christ, in the thunders of the last day, in the blazing glories of heaven, and the surging wrath of an undone eternity to start you out of your indifference, and make you pray? Oh, must God come upon you in some other way? Must He take another darling child from your household? Must He take another installment from your worldly estate? Must life come upon you with sorrow after sorrow, and smite you down with sickness before you will be moved, and before you will feel? Oh, weep now, while Jesus will count the tears! Sigh, now in repentance, while Jesus will hear the grief. Now clutch the cross of the Son of God before it be swept away. Beware, lest the Holy Spirit leave thy heart. Beware, lest this night thy soul be required of thee. "Beware, lest he take thee away with His stroke: then a great ransom can not deliver thee." Oh, Lord God of Israel, see these impenitent souls on the verge of death ready to topple over! See them! Is there no help? Is this plea all in vain? I can not believe it, blessed God. Oh, thou mighty One, whose garments are red with the wine-press of Thine own sufferings, in the greatness of Thy strength ride through this audience, and may all this people fall into line, the willing captives of Thy grace. Men and women immortal! I lay hold of you to-night with both hands of entreaty and of prayer, and I beg of you, prepare for death, judgment, and eternity. THE THREE GROUPS. "And they sat down in ranks by hundreds and by fifties."--MARK vi: 40. The sun was far down in the west, night was coming on, and there were five thousand people tired, hungry, shelterless. You know how Washington felt at Valley Forge, when his army was starving and freezing. You may imagine how any great-hearted general would feel while his troops were suffering. Imagine, then, how Christ, with His great heart, must have felt as He saw these five thousand hunger-bitten people. Yes, I suppose there were ten thousand there, for the Bible says there were five thousand men, besides women and children. The case is put in that way, not because the women and children were of less importance than the men, but because they would eat less; and the whole force of the miracle turns on the amount of food required. How shall this great multitude be supplied? I see a selfish man in that crowd pulling a luncheon out of his own pocket, and saying: "Let the people starve. They had no business to come out here in the desert without any provisions. They are improvident, and the improvident ought to suffer." There is another man, not quite so heartless, who says: "Go up into the village and buy bread." What a foolish proposition! There is not enough food in all the village for this crowd; besides that, who has the money to pay for it? Xerxes' army, one million strong, was fed by a private individual of great wealth for only one day, but it broke him. Who, then, shall feed this multitude? I see a man rising in that great crowd and asking: "Is there any one here who has bread or meat?" A kind of moan goes through the whole throng. "No bread--no meat." But just at that time a lad steps up. You know when a great crowd goes off upon an excursion, there are always men and boys to go along for the purpose of merchandise and to strike a bargain: and so, I suppose, this boy had gone along for the purpose of merchandise; but he was nearly all sold out, having only five loaves and two fishes left. He is a generous boy, and he turns them over to Christ. But these loaves would not feed twenty people, how much less ten thousand! Though the action was so generous on the part of the boy, so far as satisfying the multitude, it was a dead failure. Then Jesus comes to the rescue. He is apt to come when there is a dead lift. He commands the people that they sit down "in ranks, by hundreds and by fifties," as much as to say: "Order! order! so that none be missed." It was fortunate that that arrangement was made; otherwise, at the very first appearance of bread, the strong ones would have clutched it, while the feeble and the modest would have gone unsupplied. I suppose it was no easy work to get that crowd seated, for they all wanted to be in the front row, lest the bread give out before their turn come. No sooner are they seated than there comes a great hush over all the people. Jesus stands there, His light complexion and auburn locks illumined by the setting sun. Every eye is on Him. They wonder what He will do next. He takes one of the loaves that the boy furnished and breaks off it a piece, which immediately grows to as large a size as the original loaf, the original loaf staying as large as it was before the piece was broken off. And they leaned forward with intense scrutiny, saying: "Look! look!" When some one, anxious to see more minutely what is going on, rises in front, they cry: "Sit down in front! Let us look for ourselves." And then, when the bread is passed around, they taste of it skeptically and inquiringly, as much as to say: "Is it bread? Really, is it bread?" Yes, the best bread that was ever made, for Christ made it. Bread for the first fifty and second fifty. Bread for the first hundred and the second hundred. Bread for the first thousand and the second thousand. Pass it all around the circle: there, where that aged man sits leaning on his staff, and where that woman sits with the child in her arms. Pass it all around. Are you all fed? "Ay! ay!" respond the ten thousand voices; "all fed." One basket would have held the loaves before the miracle; it takes twelve baskets now. Sound it through all the ages of earth and heaven, that Christ the Lord comes to our suffering race with the bread of this life in one hand, and the bread of eternal life in the other hand. You have all immediately run out the analogy between that scene and this. There were thousands there; there are thousands here. They were in the desert; many of you are in the desert of trouble and sin. No human power could feed them; no human power can feed you. Christ appeared to them; Christ appears to you. Bread enough for all in the desert; bread enough for all who are here. And, as on that occasion, so in this: we have the people "sit down in ranks by hundreds and by fifties;" for the fact that many of you stand is no fault of ours, for we have tried to give you seats. As Christ divided that company into groups, so I divide this audience into three groups: the pardoned, the seeking, the careless. I. And, first, I speak to the pardoned. It is with some of you half past five in the morning, and some faint streaks of light. With others it is seven o'clock, and thus full dawn. With others it is twelve o'clock at noon, and you sit in full blaze of Gospel pardon. I bring you congratulation. Joseph delivered from Potiphar's dungeon; Daniel lifted from the lion's den; Saul arrested and unhorsed on the road to Damascus. Oh, you delivered captives, how your eyes should gleam, and your souls should bound, and your lips should sing in this pardon! From what land did you come? A land of darkness. What is to be your destiny? A land of light. Who got you out? Christ, the Lord. Can you sit so placidly and unmoved while all heaven comes to your soul with congratulation, and harps are strung, and crowns are lifted, and a great joy swings round the heavens at the news of your disinthrallment? If you could realize out of what a pit you have been dug, to what height you are to be raised, and to what glory you are destined, you would spring to your feet with "Hosanna!" In 1808 there was a meeting of the emperors of France and Russia at Erfurt. There were distinguished men there also from other lands. It was so arranged that when any of the emperors arrived at the door of the reception-room, the drum should beat three times; but when a lesser dignitary should come, then the drum would sound but twice. After awhile the people in the audience-chamber heard two taps of the drum. They said: "A prince is coming." But after awhile there were three taps, and they cried: "The emperor!" Oh, there is a more glorious arrival at your soul to-night! The drum beats twice at the coming in of the lesser joys and congratulations of your soul; but it beats once, twice, thrice at the coming in of a glorious King--Jesus the Saviour, Jesus the God! I congratulate you. All are yours--things present and things to come. II. I come now to speak of the second division--those who are seeking; some of you with more earnestness, some of you with less earnestness. But I believe that to-night, if I should ask all those who wish to find the way to heaven to rise, and the world did not scoff at you, and your own proud heart did not keep you down, there would be a thousand souls who would cry out as they rose up: "Show me the way to heaven!" That young man who smiled to the one next to him, as though he cared for none of these things, would be on his knees crying for mercy. Why this anxious look? Why this deep disquietude in the soul? Why, at the beginning of this service, did you do what you have not done for years--bow your head in prayer? You are seeking. "I am a gambler," says one man. There is mercy for you. "I am a libertine," says another. There is mercy for you. "I have plunged into every abomination." Mercy for you. The door of grace does not stand ajar to-night, nor half swung around on the hinges. It is wide, wide open; and there is nothing in the Bible, or in Christ, or God, or earth, or heaven, or hell, to keep you out of the door of safety, if you want to go in. Christ has borne your burdens, fought your battles, suffered for your sins. The debt is paid, and the receipt is handed to you, written in the blood of the Son of God--will you have it? Oh, decide the matter now! Decide it here! Fling your exhausted soul down at the feet of an all-compassionate, all-sympathizing, all-pitying, all-pardoning Jesus. The laceration on His brow, the gash in His side, the torn muscles and nerves of His feet beg you to come. But remember that one inch outside the door of pardon, and you are in as much peril as though you were a thousand miles away. Many a shipwrecked sailor has got almost to the beach, but did not get on it. There are thousands in the world of the lost who came very near being saved--perhaps as near as you are to-night--but were not saved. On the eastern coast of England, a few weeks ago, in a fishing-village, there was a good deal of excitement. While people were in church, the sailors and fishermen hearing the Gospel on the Sabbath, there was a cry: "To the beach!" and the minister closed the Bible, and with his congregation went out to help, and they saw in the offing a ship in trouble; but there was some disorder amid the fishing-smacks, and amid all the boats, and it was almost impossible to get anything launched. But after awhile they did, and they pulled away for the wreck, and came almost up, when suddenly the distressed bark in the offing capsized, and they all went down. Oh, if the lifeboats had only been ten minutes quicker! And how many a life-boat has been launched from the Gospel shore! It has come almost up to the drowning, and yet, after all, they were not rescued. Somehow they did not get into it! I suppose there are people who have asked for our prayers, and I suppose there were some in the side room, last Sabbath night, talking about their souls, who will miss heaven. They do not take the last step, and all the other steps go for nothing until you have taken the last step, for I have here, in the presence of God and this people, to announce the solemn truth, that to be almost saved is to be lost forever. That is all I have to say to the second division. III. I come now to speak to the careless. You look indifferent, and I suppose you are indifferent. You say: "I came in here because a friend invited me to see what is going on, but with no serious intentions about my soul. I have so much work, and so much pleasure on hand, don't bother me about religion." And yet you are gentlemanly, and you are lady-like, in your behavior, and, therefore, I know that you will listen respectfully if I talk courteously. Christian people are sometimes afraid to talk to men and women of the world lest they be insulted. If they talk courteously to people of the world, they will listen courteously. So now I try to come in that way, and in that spirit, and talk to those of you who tell me that you are careless about your soul. Then you have a soul, have you? Yes, precious, with infinite capacity for joy or suffering, winged for flight somewhere. Beckoned upward, beckoned downward. Fought after by angels and by fiends. Immortal! "The sun is but a spark of fire, A transient meteor in the sky: The soul, immortal as its Sire, Can never die." Your body will soon be taken down, the castle will be destroyed, the tower will be in the dust, the windows will be broken out, and the place where your body sleeps will be forgotten; but your soul, after that, will be living, acting, feeling, thinking--where? where? Oh, there must be something of incomputable worth in that for which heaven gave up its best inhabitant, and Christ went into martyrdom, and at the coming of which angels chant an eternal litany and devils rush to the gate. When everything above you, and beneath you, and around you, is intent upon that soul, you can not afford to be careless, especially when I think, this moment while I speak, there are thousands of souls in heaven rejoicing that they attended to this matter in time, while at this very instant there are souls in the lost world mourning that they did not attend to it in time. Hark to the howling of the damned! Oh, if this room could be vacated of this audience, and you were all gone, and the wan spirits of the lost could come up and occupy this place, and I could stand before them with offers of pardon through Jesus Christ, and then ask them if they would accept it, there would come up an instantaneous, multitudinous, overwhelming cry: "Yes! yes! yes! yes!" No such fortune for them. They had their day of grace, and sacrificed it. You have yours; will you sacrifice it? I wish that I could have you see these things as you will one day see them. Suppose, on your way home, a runaway horse should dash across the street, or between the dock and the boat you should accidentally slip, where would you be at twelve o'clock to-night or seven o'clock to-morrow morning? Or for all eternity where would you be? I do not answer the question. I just leave it to you to answer. But suppose you escape fatal accident. Suppose you go out by the ordinary process of sickness. I will just suppose now that your last hour has come. The doctor says, as he goes out of the room: "Can't get well." There is something in the faces of those who stand around you that prophesies that you can not get well. You say within yourself: "I can't get well." Where are your comrades now? Oh, they are off to the gay party that very night! They dance as well as they ever did. They drink as much wine. They laugh as loud as though you were not dying. They destroyed your soul, but do not come to help you die. Well, there are father and mother in the room. They are very quiet, but occasionally they go out into the next room and weep bitterly. The bed is very much disheveled. They have not been able to make it up for two or three days. There are four or five pillows lying around, because they have been trying to make you as easy as they could. On the one side of your bed are all the past years of your life--the Bibles, the sermons, the communion-tables, the offers of mercy. You say: "Take them away." Your mother thinks you are delirious. She says: "There is nothing there, my dear, nothing there." There is something there! It is your wasted opportunities. It is your procrastinations. It is those years you gave to the world that you ought to have given to Christ. They are there; and some of them put their fingers on your aching temples, and some of them feel for the strings of your heart, and some put more thorns in your tumbled pillow, and you say: "Turn me over." And they turn you over, but, alas! there is a more appalling vision. You say: "Take that away!" They say: "There is nothing there, nothing there." There is--an open grave there! the judgment is there! a lost eternity is there! Take it away! They can not take it away. You say: "How dark it is getting in the room!" Why, the burners are all lighted. Your family come up one by one, and tenderly kiss you good-bye. Your feet are cold, and the hands are cold, and the lips are cold, and they take a small mirror and they put it over your mouth to see if there is any breathing, and that mirror is taken away without a single blur upon it; and they whisper through the room: "She is gone." And then the door of the body opens and the soul flashes out. Make room for the destroyed spirit. Push back that door! Lost! Let it come into its eternal residence. Woe! woe! No cup of merriment now, but cup of the wrath of Almighty God. The last chance for heaven gone. The door of mercy shut. The doom sealed. The blackness of darkness forever! Voltaire is there. Herod is there. Robespierre is there. The debauchees are there. The murderers are there. All the rejectors of Jesus Christ are there. And you will be there unless you repent. You can not say, my dear brother, that you were not warned. This sermon would be a witness against you. You can not say that God's Holy Spirit never strove with your heart. He is striving now. You can not say that you had no chance for heaven, for the Omnipotent Son of God offers you His rescue. You can not say: "I had no warning about that world; I didn't know there was any such place," for the Bible distinctly rings in your ears to-day, saying: "At the end of the world the angels shall separate the wicked from among the just, and shall cast them into a furnace of fire." And again that book says: "The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God." And again it says: "The smoke of their torment ascendeth for ever and ever." You can not say that you did not hear about heaven, the other alternative, for you hear of it now: "The Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall lead them to living fountains of water, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." No sorrow, no suffering, no death. Oh, will you be careless any longer, when I tell you that Christ, the Conqueror of earth and hell, offers you now escape from all peril, and offers to introduce you this very hour into the peace and pardon of the Gospel, preparing you for that good land? The sides of Calvary run blood for you. Jesus, who had not where to lay His head, offers you His heart as a pillow of rest. Christ offers with His own body to bridge over the chasm of death, saying: "Walk over Me; I am the way." O suffering Jesus! the thief scoffed at Thee, and the malefactor spat on Thee, and the soldiers stabbed Thee; but these who sit before Thee to-day have no heart to do that. O Jesus! tell them of Thy love, tell them of Thy sympathy, tell them of the rewards Thou wilt give them in the better land. Groan again, O blessed Jesus! groan again, and perhaps when the rocks fall, their hard hearts may break. "Nothing brought Him from above, Nothing but redeeming love." The promise is all free, the path all clear. Come, Mary, and sit to-night at the feet of Jesus. Come, Bartimeus, and have your eyes opened. Come, O prodigal! and sit at thy father's table. Come, O you suffering, sinning, dying the soul! and find rest on the heart of Jesus. The Spirit and Bride say "Come," and Churches militant and triumphant say "Come," and all the voices of the past, mingling with all the voices of the future, in one great thunder of emphasis, bid you "Come now!" Are not those of you who are in the third class ready to pass over into the second division, and become seekers after Christ? Ay, are you not ready to pass over into the first division, and become the pardoned sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty? I can do no more than offer you, through Jesus Christ, peace on earth and everlasting residence in His presence. "When God makes up His last account Of natives in His holy mount, 'Twill be an honor to appear As one new-born and nourished there." Good-night! The Lord bless you! Go to your homes seeking after Christ. Sleep not until you have made your peace with God. Good-night--a deep, hearty, loving, Christian good-night! THE INSIGNIFICANT. "And she went, and came, and gleaned in the field after the reapers: and her hap was to light on a part of the field belonging unto Boaz, who was of the kindred of Elimelech."--RUTH ii: 3. The time that Ruth and Naomi arrive at Bethlehem is harvest-time. It was the custom when a sheaf fell from a load in the harvest-field for the reapers to refuse to gather it up: that was to be left for the poor who might happen to come along that way. If there were handfuls of grain scattered across the field after the main harvest had been reaped, instead of raking it, as farmers do now, it was, by the custom of the land, left in its place, so that the poor, coming along that way, might glean it and get their bread. But, you say, "What is the use of all these harvest-fields to Ruth and Naomi? Naomi is too old and feeble to go out and toil in the sun; and can you expect that Ruth, the young and the beautiful, should tan her cheeks and blister her hands in the harvest-field?" Boaz owns a large farm, and he goes out to see the reapers gather in the grain. Coming there, right behind the swarthy, sun-browned reapers, he beholds a beautiful woman gleaning--a woman more fit to bend to a harp or sit upon a throne than to stoop among the sheaves. Ah, that was an eventful day! It was love at first sight. Boaz forms an attachment for the womanly gleaner--an attachment full of undying interest to the Church of God in all ages; while Ruth, with an ephah, or nearly a bushel of barley, goes home to Naomi to tell her the successes and adventures of the day. That Ruth, who left her native land of Moab in darkness, and traveled through an undying affection for her mother-in-law, is in the harvest-field of Boaz, is affianced to one of the best families in Judah, and becomes in after-time the ancestress of Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory! Out of so dark a night did there ever dawn so bright a morning? I. I learn, in the first place, from this subject how trouble develops character. It was bereavement, poverty, and exile that developed, illustrated, and announced to all ages the sublimity of Ruth's character. That is a very unfortunate man who has no trouble. It was sorrow that made John Bunyan the better dreamer, and Doctor Young the better poet, and O'Connell the better orator, and Bishop Hall the better preacher, and Havelock the better soldier, and Kitto the better encyclopædist, and Ruth the better daughter-in-law. I once asked an aged man in regard to his pastor, who was a very brilliant man, "Why is it that your pastor, so very brilliant, seems to have so little heart and tenderness in his sermons?" "Well," he replied, "the reason is, our pastor has never had any trouble. When misfortune comes upon him, his style will be different." After awhile the Lord took a child out of that pastor's house; and though the preacher was just as brilliant as he was before, oh, the warmth, the tenderness of his discourses! The fact is, that trouble is a great educator. You see sometimes a musician sit down at an instrument, and his execution is cold and formal and unfeeling. The reason is that all his life he has been prospered. But let misfortune or bereavement come to that man, and he sits down at the instrument, and you discover the pathos in the first sweep of the keys. Misfortune and trials are great educators. A young doctor comes into a sick-room where there is a dying child. Perhaps he is very rough in his prescription, and very rough in his manner, and rough in the feeling of the pulse, and rough in his answer to the mother's anxious question; but years roll on, and there has been one dead in his own house; and now he comes into the sick-room, and with tearful eye he looks at the dying child, and he says, "Oh, how this reminds me of my Charlie!" Trouble, the great educator. Sorrow--I see its touch in the grandest painting; I hear its tremor in the sweetest song; I feel its power in the mightiest argument. Grecian mythology said that the fountain of Hippocrene was struck out by the foot of the winged horse Pegasus. I have often noticed in life that the brightest and most beautiful fountains of Christian comfort and spiritual life have been struck out by the iron-shod hoof of disaster and calamity. I see Daniel's courage best by the flash of Nebuchadnezzar's furnace. I see Paul's prowess best when I find him on the foundering ship under the glare of the lightning in the breakers of Melita. God crowns His children amid the howling of wild beasts and the chopping of blood-splashed guillotine and the crackling fires of martyrdom. It took the persecutions of Marcus Aurelius to develop Polycarp and Justin Martyr. It took the pope's bull and the cardinal's curse and the world's anathema to develop Martin Luther. It took all the hostilities against the Scotch Covenanters and the fury of Lord Claverhouse to develop James Renwick, and Andrew Melville, and Hugh McKail, the glorious martyrs of Scotch history. It took the stormy sea, and the December blast, and the desolate New England coast, and the war-whoop of savages, to show forth the prowess of the Pilgrim Fathers-- "When amid the storms they sung, And the stars heard, and the sea, And the sounding aisles of the dim wood Rang to the anthems of the free." It took all our past national distresses, and it takes all our present national sorrows, to lift up our nation on that high career where it will march along after the foreign aristocracies that have mocked and the tyrannies that have jeered, shall be swept down under the omnipotent wrath of God, who hates despotism, and who, by the strength of His own red right arm, will make all men free. And so it is individually, and in the family, and in the Church, and in the world, that through darkness and storm and trouble men, women, churches, nations, are developed. II. Again, I see in my text the beauty of unfaltering friendship. I suppose there were plenty of friends for Naomi while she was in prosperity; but of all her acquaintances, how many were willing to trudge off with her toward Judah, when she had to make that lonely journey? One--the heroine of my text. One--absolutely one. I suppose when Naomi's husband was living, and they had plenty of money, and all things went well, they had a great many callers; but I suppose that after her husband died, and her property went, and she got old and poor, she was not troubled very much with callers. All the birds that sung in the bower while the sun shone have gone to their nests, now the night has fallen. Oh, these beautiful sun-flowers that spread out their color in the morning hour! but they are always asleep when the sun is going down! Job had plenty of friends when he was the richest man in Uz; but when his property went and the trials came, then there were none so much that pestered as Eliphaz the Temanite, and Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite. Life often seems to be a mere game, where the successful player pulls down all the other men into his own lap. Let suspicions arise about a man's character, and he becomes like a bank in a panic, and all the imputations rush on him and break down in a day that character which in due time would have had strength to defend itself. There are reputations that have been half a century in building, which go down under some moral exposure, as a vast temple is consumed by the touch of a sulphurous match. A hog can uproot a century plant. In this world, so full of heartlessness and hypocrisy, how thrilling it is to find some friend as faithful in days of adversity as in days of prosperity! David had such a friend in Hushai; the Jews had such a friend in Mordecai, who never forgot their cause; Paul had such a friend in Onesiphorus, who visited him in jail; Christ had such in the Marys, who adhered to Him on the cross; Naomi had such a one in Ruth, who cried out: "Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God; where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me." III. Again, I learn from this subject that paths which open in hardship and darkness often come out in places of joy. When Ruth started from Moab toward Jerusalem, to go along with her mother-in-law, I suppose the people said: "Oh, what a foolish creature to go away from her father's house, to go off with a poor old woman toward the land of Judah! They won't live to get across the desert. They will be drowned in the sea, or the jackals of the wilderness will destroy them." It was a very dark morning when Ruth started off with Naomi; but behold her in my text in the harvest-field of Boaz, to be affianced to one of the lords of the land, and become one of the grandmothers of Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory. And so it often is that a path which often starts very darkly ends very brightly. When you started out for heaven, oh, how dark was the hour of conviction--how Sinai thundered, and devils tormented, and the darkness thickened! All the sins of your life pounced upon you, and it was the darkest hour you ever saw when you first found out your sins. After awhile you went into the harvest-field of God's mercy; you began to glean in the fields of divine promise, and you had more sheaves than you could carry, as the voice of God addressed you, saying: "Blessed is the man whose transgressions are forgiven, and whose sins are covered." A very dark starting in conviction, a very bright ending in the pardon and the hope and the triumph of the Gospel! So, very often in our worldly business or in our spiritual career, we start off on a very dark path. We must go. The flesh may shrink back, but there is a voice within, or a voice from above, saying, "You must go;" and we have to drink the gall, and we have to carry the cross, and we have to traverse the desert and we are pounded and flailed of misrepresentation and abuse, and we have to urge our way through ten thousand obstacles that have been slain by our own right arm. We have to ford the river, we have to climb the mountain, we have to storm the castle; but, blessed be God, the day of rest and reward will come. On the tip-top of the captured battlements we will shout the victory; if not in this world, then in that world where there is no gall to drink, no burdens to carry, no battles to fight. How do I know it? Know it! I know it because God says so: "They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat, for the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall lead them to living fountains of water, and God shall wipe all tears from their eyes." It was very hard for Noah to endure the scoffing of the people in his day, while he was trying to build the ark, and was every morning quizzed about his old boat that would never be of any practical use; but when the deluge came, and the tops of the mountains disappeared like the backs of sea-monsters, and the elements, lashed up in fury, clapped their hands over a drowned world, then Noah in the ark rejoiced in his own safety and in the safety of his family, and looked out on the wreck of a ruined earth. Christ, hounded of persecutors, denied a pillow, worse maltreated than the thieves on either side of the cross, human hate smacking its lips in satisfaction after it had been draining His last drop of blood, the sheeted dead bursting from the sepulchers at His crucifixion. Tell me, O Gethsemane and Golgotha! were there ever darker times than those? Like the booming of the midnight sea against the rock, the surges of Christ's anguish beat against the gates of eternity, to be echoed back by all the thrones of heaven and all the dungeons of hell. But the day of reward comes for Christ; all the pomp and dominion of this world are to be hung on His throne, uncrowned heads are to bow before Him on whose head are many crowns, and all the celestial worship is to come up at His feet, like the humming of the forest, like the rushing of the waters, like the thundering of the seas, while all heaven, rising on their thrones, beat time with their scepters: "Hallelujah, for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth! Hallelujah, the kingdoms of this world have become the kingdoms of our Lord Jesus Christ!" "That song of love, now low and far, Ere long shall swell from star to star; That light, the breaking day which tips The golden-spired Apocalypse." IV. Again, I learn from my subject that events which seem to be most insignificant may be momentous. Can you imagine anything more unimportant than the coming of a poor woman from Moab to Judah? Can you imagine anything more trivial than the fact that this Ruth just happened to alight--as they say--just happened to alight on that field of Boaz? Yet all ages, all generations, have an interest in the fact that she was to become an ancestor of the Lord Jesus Christ, and all nations and kingdoms must look at that one little incident with a thrill of unspeakable and eternal satisfaction. So it is in your history and in mine: events that you thought of no importance at all have been of very great moment. That casual conversation, that accidental meeting--you did not think of it again for a long while; but how it changed all the phase of your life! It seemed to be of no importance that Jubal invented rude instruments of music, calling them harp and organ; but they were the introduction of all the world's minstrelsy; and as you hear the vibration of a stringed instrument, even after the fingers have been taken away from it, so all music now of lute and drum and cornet is only the long-continued strains of Jubal's harp and Jubal's organ. It seemed to be a matter of very little importance that Tubal Cain learned the uses of copper and iron; but that rude foundry of ancient days has its echo in the rattle of Birmingham machinery, and the roar and bang of factories on the Merrimac. It seemed to be a matter of no importance that Luther found a Bible in a monastery; but as he opened that Bible, and the brass-bound lids fell back, they jarred everything, from the Vatican to the furthest convent in Germany, and the rustling of the wormed leaves was the sound of the wings of the angel of the Reformation. It seemed to be a matter of no importance that a woman, whose name has been forgotten, dropped a tract in the way of a very bad man by the name of Richard Baxter. He picked up the tract and read it, and it was the means of his salvation. In after-days that man wrote a book called "The Call to the Unconverted," that was the means of bringing a multitude to God, among others Philip Doddridge. Philip Doddridge wrote a book called "The Rise and Progress of Religion," which has brought thousands and tens of thousands into the kingdom of God, and among others the great Wilberforce. Wilberforce wrote a book called "A Practical View of Christianity," which was the means of bringing a great multitude to Christ, among others Legh Richmond. Legh Richmond wrote a tract called "The Dairyman's Daughter," which has been the means of the salvation of unconverted multitudes. And that tide of influence started from the fact that one Christian woman dropped a Christian tract in the way of Richard Baxter--the tide of influence rolling on through Richard Baxter, through Philip Doddridge, through the great Wilberforce, through Legh Richmond, on, on, on, forever, forever. So the insignificant events of this world seem, after all, to be most momentous. The fact that you came up that street or this street seemed to be of no importance to you, and the fact that you went inside of some church may seem to be a matter of very great insignificance to you, but you will find it the turning-point in your history. V. Again, I see in my subject an illustration of the beauty of female industry. Behold Ruth toiling in the harvest-field under the hot sun, or at noon taking plain bread with the reapers, or eating the parched corn which Boaz handed to her. The customs of society, of course, have changed, and without the hardships and exposure to which Ruth was subjected, every intelligent woman will find something to do. I know there is a sickly sentimentality on this subject. In some families there are persons of no practical service to the household or community; and though there are so many woes all around about them in the world, they spend their time languishing over a new pattern, or bursting into tears at midnight over the story of some lover who shot himself! They would not deign to look at Ruth carrying back the barley on her way home to her mother-in-law, Naomi. All this fastidiousness may seem to do very well while they are under the shelter of their father's house; but when the sharp winter of misfortune comes, what of these butterflies? Persons under indulgent parentage may get upon themselves habits of indolence; but when they come out into practical life their soul will recoil with disgust and chagrin. They will feel in their hearts what the poet so severely satirized when he said: "Folks are so awkward, things so impolite, They're elegantly pained from morning until night." Through that gate of indolence how many men and women have marched, useless on earth, to a destroyed eternity! Spinola said to Sir Horace Vere: "Of what did your brother die?" "Of having nothing to do," was the answer. "Ah!" said Spinola, "that's enough to kill any general of us." Oh! can it be possible in this world, where there is so much suffering to be alleviated, so much darkness to be enlightened, and so many burdens to be carried, that there is any person who cannot find anything to do? Madame de Staël did a world of work in her time; and one day, while she was seated amid instruments of music, all of which she had mastered, and amid manuscript books which she had written, some one said to her: "How do you find time to attend to all these things?" "Oh," she replied, "these are not the things I am proud of. My chief boast is in the fact that I have seventeen trades, by any one of which I could make a livelihood if necessary." And if in secular spheres there is so much to be done, in spiritual work how vast the field! How many dying all around about us without one word of comfort! We want more Abigails, more Hannahs, more Rebeccas, more Marys, more Deborahs consecrated--body, mind, soul--to the Lord who bought them. VI. Once more I learn from my subject the value of gleaning. Ruth going into that harvest-field might have said: "There is a straw, and there is a straw, but what is a straw? I can't get any barley for myself or my mother-in-law out of these separate straws." Not so said beautiful Ruth. She gathered two straws, and she put them together, and more straws, until she got enough to make a sheaf. Putting that down, she went and gathered more straws, until she had another sheaf, and another, and another, and another, and then she brought them all together, and she threshed them out, and she had an ephah of barley, nigh a bushel. Oh, that we might all be gleaners! Elihu Burritt learned many things while toiling in a blacksmith's shop. Abercrombie, the world-renowned philosopher, was a philosopher in Scotland, and he got his philosophy, or the chief part of it, while, as a physician, he was waiting for the door of the sick-room to open. Yet how many there are in this day who say they are so busy they have no time for mental or spiritual improvement; the great duties of life cross the field like strong reapers, and carry off all the hours, and there is only here and there a fragment left, that is not worth gleaning. Ah, my friends, you could go into the busiest day and busiest week of your life and find golden opportunities, which, gathered, might at last make a whole sheaf for the Lord's garner. It is the stray opportunities and the stray privileges which, taken up and bound together and beaten out, will at last fill you with much joy. There are a few moments left worth the gleaning. Now, Ruth, to the field! May each one have a measure full and running over! Oh, you gleaners, to the field! And if there be in your household an aged one or a sick relative that is not strong enough to come forth and toil in this field, then let Ruth take home to feeble Naomi this sheaf of gleaning: "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." May the Lord God of Ruth and Naomi be our portion forever! THE THREE RINGS. "Put a ring on his hand."--LUKE xv: 22. I will not rehearse the familiar story of the fast young man of the parable. You know what a splendid home he left. You know what a hard time he had. And you remember how after that season of vagabondage and prodigality he resolved to go and weep out his sorrows on the bosom of parental forgiveness. Well, there is great excitement one day in front of the door of the old farmhouse. The servants come rushing up and say: "What's the matter? What _is_ the matter?" But before they quite arrive, the old man cries out: "Put a ring on his hand." What a seeming absurdity! What can such a wretched mendicant as this fellow that is tramping on toward the house want with a ring? Oh, he is the prodigal son. No more tending of the swine-trough. No more longing for the pods of the carob-tree. No more blistered feet. Off with the rags! On with the robe! Out with the ring! Even so does God receive every one of us when we come back. There are gold rings, and pearl rings, and carnelian rings, and diamond rings; but the richest ring that ever flashed on the vision is that which our Father puts upon a forgiven soul. I know that the impression is abroad among some people that religion bemeans and belittles a man; that it takes all the sparkle out of his soul; that he has to exchange a roistering independence for an ecclesiastical strait-jacket. Not so. When a man becomes a Christian, he does not go down, he starts upward. Religion multiplies one by ten thousand. Nay, the multiplier is in infinity. It is not a blotting out--it is a polishing, it is an arborescence, it is an efflorescence, it is an irradiation. When a man comes into the kingdom of God he is not sent into a menial service, but the Lord God Almighty from the palaces of heaven calls upon the messenger angels that wait upon the throne to fly and "put a ring on his hand." In Christ are the largest liberty, and brightest joy, and highest honor, and richest adornment. "Put a ring on his hand." I remark, in the first place, that when Christ receives a soul into His love, He puts upon him the ring of adoption. Eight or ten years ago, in my church in Philadelphia, there came the representative of the Howard Mission of New York. He brought with him eight or ten children of the street that he had picked up, and he was trying to find for them Christian homes; and as the little ones stood on the pulpit and sung, our hearts melted within us. At the close of the services a great-hearted wealthy man came up and said: "I'll take this little bright-eyed girl, and I'll adopt her as one of my own children;" and he took her by the hand, lifted her into his carriage, and went away. The next day, while we were in the church gathering up garments for the poor of New York, this little child came back with a bundle under her arm, and she said: "There's my old dress; perhaps some of the poor children would like to have it," while she herself was in bright and beautiful array, and those who more immediately examined her said that she had a ring on her hand. It was a ring of adoption. There are a great many persons who pride themselves on their ancestry, and they glory over the royal blood that pours through their arteries. In their line there was a lord, or a duke, or a prime minister, or a king. But when the Lord, our Father, puts upon us the ring of His adoption, we become the children of the Ruler of all nations. "Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God." It matters not how poor our garments may be in this world, or how scant our bread, or how mean the hut we live in, if we have that ring of Christ's adoption upon our hand we are assured of eternal defenses. Adopted! Why, then, we are brothers and sisters to all the good of earth and heaven. We have the family name, the family dress, the family keys, the family wardrobe. The Father looks after us, robes us, defends us, blesses us. We have royal blood in our veins, and there are crowns in our line. If we are His children, then princes and princesses. It is only a question of time when we get our coronet. Adopted! Then we have the family secrets. "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear Him." Adopted! Then we have the family inheritance, and in the day when our Father shall divide the riches of heaven we shall take our share of the mansions and palaces and temples. Henceforth let us boast no more of an earthly ancestry. The insignia of eternal glory is our coat of arms. This ring of adoption puts upon us all honor and all privilege. Now we can take the words of Charles Wesley, that prince of hymn-makers, and sing: "Come, let us join our friends above, Who have obtained the prize, And on the eagle wings of love To joy celestial rise. "Let all the saints terrestrial sing With those to glory gone; For all the servants of our King, In heaven and earth, are one." I have been told that when any of the members of any of the great secret societies of this country are in a distant city and are in any kind of trouble, and are set upon by enemies, they have only to give a certain signal and the members of that organization will flock around for defense. And when any man belongs to this great Christian brotherhood, if he gets in trouble, in trial, in persecution, in temptation, he has only to show this ring of Christ's adoption, and all the armed cohorts of heaven will come to his rescue. Still further, when Christ takes a soul into His love He puts upon it a marriage-ring. Now, that is not a whim of mine: "And I will betroth thee unto Me forever; yea, I will betroth thee unto Me in righteousness, and in judgment, and in loving-kindness, and in mercies." (Hosea ii: 19.) At the wedding altar the bridegroom puts a ring upon the hand of the bride, signifying love and faithfulness. Trouble may come upon the household, and the carpets may go, the pictures may go, the piano may go, everything else may go--the last thing that goes is that marriage-ring, for it is considered sacred. In the burial hour it is withdrawn from the hand and kept in a casket, and sometimes the box is opened on an anniversary day, and as you look at that ring you see under its arch a long procession of precious memories. Within the golden circle of that ring there is room for a thousand sweet recollections to revolve, and you think of the great contrast between the hour when, at the close of the "Wedding March," under the flashing lights and amid the aroma of orange-blossoms, you set that ring on the round finger of the plump hand, and that other hour when, at the close of the exhaustive watching, when you knew that the soul had fled, you took from the hand, which gave back no responsive clasp, from that emaciated finger, the ring that she had worn so long and worn so well. On some anniversary day you take up that ring, and you repolish it until all the old luster comes back, and you can see in it the flash of eyes that long ago ceased to weep. Oh, it is not an unmeaning thing when I tell you that when Christ receives a soul into His keeping He puts on it a marriage-ring. He endows you from that moment with all His wealth. You are one--Christ and the soul--one in sympathy, one in affection, one in hope. There is no power in earth or hell to effect a divorcement after Christ and the soul are united. Other kings have turned out their companions when they got weary of them, and sent them adrift from the palace gate. Ahasuerus banished Vashti; Napoleon forsook Josephine; but Christ is the husband that is true forever. Having loved you once, He loves you to the end. Did they not try to divorce Margaret, the Scotch girl, from Jesus? They said: "You must give up your religion." She said: "I can't give up my religion." And so they took her down to the beach of the sea, and they drove in a stake at low-water mark, and they fastened her to it, expecting that as the tide came up her faith would fail. The tide began to rise, and came up higher and higher, and to the girdle, and to the lip, and in the last moment, just as the wave was washing her soul into glory, she shouted the praises of Jesus. Oh, no, you can not separate a soul from Christ! It is an everlasting marriage. Battle and storm and darkness can not do it. Is it too much exultation for a man, who is but dust and ashes like myself, to cry out this morning: "I am persuaded that neither height, nor depth, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor any other creature shall separate me from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus my Lord"? Glory be to God that when Christ and the soul are married they are bound by a chain, a golden chain--if I might say so--a chain with one link, and that one link the golden ring of God's everlasting love. I go a step further, and tell you that when Christ receives a soul into His love He puts on him the ring of festivity. You know that it has been the custom in all ages to bestow rings on very happy occasions. There is nothing more appropriate for a birthday gift than a ring. You delight to bestow such a gift upon your children at such a time. It means joy, hilarity, festivity. Well, when this old man of the text wanted to tell how glad he was that his boy had got back, he expressed it in this way. Actually, before he ordered sandals to be put on his bare feet; before he ordered the fatted calf to be killed to appease the boy's hunger, he commanded: "Put a ring on his hand." Oh, it is a merry time when Christ and the soul are united! Joy of forgiveness! What a splendid thing it is to feel that all is right between me and God. What a glorious thing it is to have God just take up all the sins of my life and put them in one bundle, and then fling them into the depths of the sea, never to rise again, never to be talked of again. Pollution all gone. Darkness all illumined. God reconciled. The prodigal home. "Put a ring on his hand." Every day I find happy Christian people. I find some of them with no second coat, some of them in huts and tenement houses, not one earthly comfort afforded them; and yet they are as happy as happy can be. They sing "Rock of Ages" as no other people in the world sing it. They never wore any jewelry in their life but one gold ring, and that was the ring of God's undying affection. Oh, how happy religion makes us! Did it make you gloomy and sad? Did you go with your head cast down? I do not think you got religion, my brother. That is not the effect of religion. True religion is a joy. "Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." Why, religion lightens all our burdens. It smooths all our way. It interprets all our sorrows. It changes the jar of earthly discord for the peal of festal bells. In front of the flaming furnace of trial it sets the forge on which scepters are hammered out. Would you not like to-day to come up from the swine-feeding and try this religion? All the joys of heaven would come out and meet you, and God would cry from the throne: "Put a ring on his hand." You are not happy. I see it. There is no peace, and sometimes you laugh when you feel a great deal more like crying. The world is a cheat. It first wears you down with its follies, then it kicks you out into darkness. It comes back from the massacre of a million souls to attempt the destruction of your soul to-day. No peace out of God, but here is the fountain that can slake the thirst. Here is the harbor where you can drop safe anchorage. Would you not like, I ask you--not perfunctorily, but as one brother might talk to another--would you not like to have a pillow of rest to put your head on? And would you not like, when you retire at night, to feel that all is well, whether you wake up to-morrow morning at six o'clock, or sleep the sleep that knows no waking? Would you not like to exchange this awful uncertainty about the future for a glorious assurance of heaven? Accept of the Lord Jesus to-day, and all is well. If on your way home some peril should cross the street and dash your life out, it would not hurt you. You would rise up immediately. You would stand in the celestial streets. You would be amid the great throng that forever worship and are forever happy. If this day some sudden disease should come upon you, it would not frighten you. If you knew you were going you could give a calm farewell to your beautiful home on earth, and know that you are going right into the companionship of those who have already got beyond the toiling and the weeping. You feel on Saturday night different from the way you feel any other night of the week. You come home from the bank, or the store, or the shop, and you say: "Well, now my week's work is done, and to-morrow is Sunday." It is a pleasant thought. There is refreshment and reconstruction in the very idea. Oh, how pleasant it will be, if, when we get through the day of our life, and we go and lie down in our bed of dust, we can realize: "Well, now the work is all done, and to-morrow is Sunday--an everlasting Sunday." "Oh, when, thou city of my God, Shall I thy courts ascend? Where congregations ne'er break up, And Sabbaths have no end." There are people in this house to-day who are very near the eternal world. If you are Christians, I bid you be of good cheer. Bear with you our congratulations to the bright city. Aged men, who will soon be gone, take with you our love for our kindred in the better land, and when you see them, tell them that we are soon coming. Only a few more sermons to preach and hear. Only a few more heart-aches. Only a few more toils. Only a few more tears. And then--what an entrancing spectacle will open before us! "Beautiful heaven, where all is light, Beautiful angels clothed in white, Beautiful strains that never tire, Beautiful harps through all the choir; There shall I join the chorus sweet, Worshiping at the Saviour's feet." I stand before you on this Sabbath, the last Sabbath preceding the great feast-day in this Church. On the next Lord's-day the door of communion will be open, and you will all be invited to come in. And so I approach you now with a general invitation, not picking out here and there a man, or here and there a woman, or here and there a child; but giving you an unlimited invitation, saying: "Come, for all things are now ready." We invite you to the warm heart of Christ, and the inclosure of the Christian Church. I know a great many think that the Church does not amount to much--that it is obsolete; that it did its work and is gone now, so far as all usefulness is concerned. It is the happiest place I have ever been in except my own home. I know there are some people who say they are Christians who seem to get along without any help from others, and who culture solitary piety. They do not want any ordinances. I do not belong to that class. I can not get along without them. There are so many things in this world that take my attention from God, and Christ, and heaven, that I want all the helps of all the symbols and of all the Christian associations; and I want around about me a solid phalanx of men who love God and keep His commandments. Are there any here who would like to enter into that association? Then by a simple, child-like faith, apply for admission into the visible Church, and you will be received. No questions asked about your past history or present surroundings. Only one test--do you love Jesus? Baptism does not amount to anything, say a great many people; but the Lord Jesus declared, "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved," putting baptism and faith side by side. And an apostle declares, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you." I do not stickle for any particular mode of baptism, but I put great emphasis on the fact that you ought to be baptized. Yet no more emphasis than the Lord Jesus Christ, the Great Head of the Church, puts upon it. The world is going to lose a great many of its votaries next Sabbath. We give you warning. There is a great host coming in to stand under the banner of the Lord Jesus Christ. Will you be among them? It is going to be a great harvest-day. Will you be among the gathered sheaves? Some of you have been thinking on this subject year after year. You have found out that this world is a poor portion. You want to be Christians. You have come almost into the kingdom of God; but there you stop, forgetful of the fact that to be almost saved is not to be saved at all. Oh, my brother, after having come so near to the door of mercy, if you turn back, you will never come at all. After all you have heard of the goodness of God, if you turn away and die, it will not be because you did not have a good offer. "God's spirit will not always strive With hardened, self-destroying man; Ye who persist His love to grieve May never hear his voice again." May God Almighty this hour move upon your soul and bring you back from the husks of the wilderness to the Father's house, and set you at the banquet, and "put a ring on your hand." HOW HE CAME TO SAY IT. "If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha."--I COR. xvi: 22. The smallest lad in the house knows the meaning of all those words except the last two, Anathema Maranatha. Anathema, to cut off. Maranatha, at His coming. So the whole passage might be read: "If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be cut off at His coming." Well, how could the tender-hearted Paul say that? We have seen him with tears discoursing about human want, and flushed with excitement about human sorrow; and now he throws those red-hot iron words into this letter to the Corinthians. Had he lost his patience? Ok, no. Had he resigned his confidence in the Christian religion? Oh, no. Had the world treated him so badly that he had become its sworn enemy? Oh, no. It needs some explanation, I confess, and I shall proceed to show by what process Paul came to the vehement utterance of my text. Before I close, if God shall give His Spirit, you shall cease to be surprised at the exclamation of the Apostle, and you yourselves will employ the same emphasis, declaring, "If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha." If the photographic art had been discovered early enough, we should have had the facial proportions of Christ--the front face, the side face, Jesus sitting, Jesus standing--provided He had submitted to that art; but since the sun did not become a portrait painter until eighteen centuries after Christ, our idea about the Saviour's personal appearance is all guess work. Still, tradition tells us that He was the most infinitely beautiful being that ever walked our small earth. If His features had been rugged, and His gait had been ungainly, that would not have hindered Him from being attractive. Many men you have known and loved have had few charms of physiognomy. Wilberforce was not attractive in face. Socrates was repulsive. Suwarrow, the great Russian hero, looked almost an imbecile. And some whom you have known, and honored, and loved, have not had very great attractiveness of personal appearance. The shape of the mouth, and the nose, and the eyebrow, did not hinder the soul from shining through the cuticle of the face in all-powerful irradiation. But to a lovely exterior Christ joined all loveliness of disposition. Run through the galleries of heaven, and find out that He is _a non-such_. The sunshine of His love mingling with the shadows of His sorrows, crossed by the crystalline stream of His tears and the crimson flowing forth of His blood, make a picture worthy of being called the masterpiece of the eternities. Hung on the wall of heaven, the celestial population would be enchanted but for the fact that they have the grand and magnificent original, and they want no picture. But Christ having gone away from earth, we are dependent upon four indistinct pictures. Matthew took one, Mark another, Luke another, and John another. I care not which picture you take, it is lovely. Lovely? He was altogether lovely. He had a way of taking up a dropsical limb without hurting it, and of removing the cataract from the eye without the knife, and of starting the circulation through the shrunken arteries without the shock of the electric battery, and of putting intelligence into the dull stare of lunacy, and of restringing the auditory nerve of the deaf ear, and of striking articulation into the stiff tongue, and of making the stark-naked madman dress himself and exchange tombstone for ottoman, and of unlocking from the skeleton grip of death the daughter of Jairus to embosom her in her glad father's arms. Oh, He was lovely--sitting, standing, kneeling, lying down--always lovely. Lovely in His sacrifice. Why, He gave up everything for us. Home, celestial companionship, music of seraphic harps, balmy breath of eternal summer, all joy, all light, all music, and heard the gates slam shut behind Him as He came out to fight for our freedom, and with bare feet plunged on the sharp javelins of human and satanic hate, until His blood spurted into the faces of those who slew Him. You want the soft, low, minor key of sweetest music to describe the pathos; but it needs an orchestra, under swinging of an archangel's baton, reaching from throne to manger, to drum and trumpet the doxologies of His praise. He took everybody's trouble--the leper's sickness, the widow's dead boy, the harlot's shame, the Galilean fisherman's poor luck, the invalidism of Simon's mother-in-law, the sting of Malchus' amputated ear. Some people cry very easily, and for some it is very difficult to cry. A great many tears on some cheeks do not mean so much as one tear on another cheek. What is it that I see glittering in the mild eye of Jesus? It was all the sorrows of earth, and the woes of hell, from which He had plucked our souls, accreted into one transparent drop, lingering on the lower eyelash until it fell on a cheek red with the slap of human hands--just one salt, bitter, burning tear of Jesus. No wonder the rock, the sky, and the cemetery were in consternation when He died! No wonder the universe was convulsed! It was the Lord God Almighty bursting into tears. Now, suppose that, notwithstanding all this, a man can not have any affection for Him. What ought to be done with such hard behavior? It seems to me that there ought to be some chastisement for a man who will not love such a Christ. Does it not make your blood tingle to think of Jesus coming over the tens of thousands of miles that seem to separate God from us, and then to see a man jostle Him out, and push Him back, and shut the door in His face, and trample upon His entreaties? While you may not be able to rise up to the towering excitement of the Apostle in my text, you can at any rate somewhat understand his feelings when he cried out: "After all this, 'if a man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha.'" Just look at the injustice of not loving Him. Now, there is nothing that excites a man like injustice. You go along the street, and you see your little child buffeted, or a ruffian comes and takes a boy's hat and throws it into the ditch. You say: "What great meanness, what injustice that is!" You can not stand injustice. I remember, in my boyhood days, attending a large meeting in Tripler Hall, New York. Thousands of people were huzzaing, and the same kind of audiences were assembled at the same time in Boston, Edinburgh, and London. Why? Because the Madaii family, in Italy, had been robbed of their Bible. "A little thing," you say. Ah, that injustice was enough to arouse the indignation of a world. But while we are so sensitive about injustice as between man and man, how little sensitive we are about injustice between man and God. If there ever was a fair and square purchase of anything, then Christ purchased us. He paid for us, not in shekels, not in ancient coins inscribed with effigies of Hercules, or �gina's tortoise, or lyre of Mitylene, but in two kinds of coin--one red, the other glittering--blood and tears! If anything is purchased and paid for, ought not the goods to be delivered? If you have bought property and given the money, do you not want to come into possession of it? "Yes," you say, "I will have it. I bought and paid for it." And you will go to law for it, and you will denounce the man as a defrauder. Ay, if need be, you will hurl him into jail. You will say: "I am bound to get that property. I bought it. I paid for it!" Now, transpose the case. Suppose Jesus Christ to be the wronged purchaser on the one side, and the impenitent soul on the other, trying to defraud Him of that which He bought at such an exorbitant price, how do you feel about that injustice? How do you feel toward that spiritual fraud, turpitude and perfidy? A man with an ardent temperament rises and he says that such injustice as between man and man is bad enough, but between man and God it is reprehensible and intolerable, and he brings his fist down on the pew, and he says: "I can stand this injustice no longer. After all this purchase, 'if any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha'!" I go still further, and show you how suicidal it is for a man not to love Christ. If a man gets in trouble, and he can not get out, we have only one feeling toward him--sympathy and a desire to help him. If he has failed for a vast amount of money, and can not pay more than ten cents on a dollar--ay, if he can not pay anything--though his creditors may come after him like a pack of hounds, we sympathize with him. We go to his store, or house, and we express our condolence. But suppose the day before that man failed, William E. Dodge had come into his store and said: "My friend, I hear you are in trouble. I have come to help you. If ten thousand dollars will see you through your perplexity, I have a loan of that amount for you. Here is a check for the amount of that loan." Suppose the man said: "With that ten thousand dollars I could get through until next spring, and then everything will be all right; but, Mr. Dodge, I don't want it; I won't take it; I would rather fail than take it; I don't even thank you for offering it." Your sympathy for that man would cease immediately. You would say: "He had a fair offer; he might have got out; he wants to fail; he refuses all help; now let him fail." There is no one in all this house who would have any sympathy for that man. But do not let us be too hasty. Christ hears of our spiritual embarrassments, he finds that we are on the very verge of eternal defalcation. He finds the law knocking at our door with this dun: "Pay me what thou owest." We do not know which way to turn. Pay? We can not pay a farthing of all the millions of obligation. Well, Christ comes in and says: "Here is My name; you can use My name. Your name would be worthless, but My red handwriting on the back of this obligation will get you through anywhere." Now suppose the soul says: "I know I am in debt; I can't meet these obligations either in time or eternity; but, oh, Christ, I want not Thy help; I ask not Thy rescue. Go away from me." You would say: "That man, why, he deserves to die. He had the offer of help; he would not take it. He is a free agent; he ought to have what he wants; he chooses death rather than life. Ought you not give him freedom of choice?" Though awhile ago there was only one ardent man who understood the Apostle, now there are hundreds in the house who can say, and do say within themselves: "After all this ingratitude, and rejection, and obstinacy, 'if any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha.'" I go a step further, and say it is most cruel for a man not to love Jesus. The meanest thing I could do for you would be needlessly to hurt your feelings. Sharp words sometimes cut like a dagger. An unkind look will sometimes rive like the lightning. An unkind deed may overmaster a sensitive spirit, and if you have made up your mind that you have done wrong to any one, it does not take you two minutes to make up your mind to go and apologize. Now, Christ is a bundle of delicacy and sensitiveness. How you have shocked His nerves! How you have broken His heart! Did you, my brother, ever measure the meaning of that one passage: "Behold, I stand at the door and knock"? It never came to me as it did this morning while I was thinking on this subject. "Behold, I stand at the door and knock." Some January day, the thermometer five degrees below zero, the wind and sleet beating mercilessly against you, you go up the steps of a house where you have a very important errand. You knock with one knuckle. No answer. You are very earnest, and you are freezing. The next time you knock harder. After awhile with your fist you beat against the door. You must get in, but the inmate is careless or stubborn, and he does not want you in. Your errand is a failure. You go away. The Lord Jesus Christ comes up on the steps of your heart, and with very sore hand he knocks hard at the door of your soul. He is standing in the cold blasts of human suffering. He knocks. He says: "Let me in. I have come a great way. I have come all the way from Nazareth, from Bethlehem, from Golgotha. Let Me in. I am shivering and blue with the cold. Let Me in. My feet are bare but for their covering of blood. My head is uncovered but for a turban of brambles. By all these wounds of foot, and head, and heart, I beg you to let Me in. Oh, I have been here a great while, and the night is getting darker. I am faint with hunger. I am dying to get in. Oh, lift the latch--shove back the bolt! Won't you let Me in? Won't you? 'Behold, I stand at the door and knock!'" But after awhile, my brother, the scene will change. It will be another door, but Christ will be on the other side of it. He will be on the inside, and the rejected sinner will be on the outside, and the sinner will come up and knock at the door, and say: "Let me in, let me in. I have come a great way. I came all the way from earth. I am sick and dying. Let me in. The merciless storm beats my unsheltered head. The wolves of a great night are on my track. Let me in. With both fists I beat against this door. Oh, let me in. Oh, Christ, let me in. Oh, Holy Ghost, let me in. Oh, God, let me in. Oh, my glorified kindred, let me in." No answer save the voice of Christ, who shall say: "Sinner, when I stood at your door you would not let Me in, and now you are standing at My door, and I can not let you in. The day of your grace is past. Officer of the law, seize him." And while the arrest is going on, all the myriads of heaven rise on gallery and throne, and cry with loud voice, that makes the eternal city quake from capstone to foundation, saying: "If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha." Sabbath audience in the Brooklyn Tabernacle, and all to whom these words shall come on both sides the sea, notice here the tremendous alternative: it is not whether you live in Pierrepont Street or Carlton Avenue, walk Trafalgar Square or the "Canongate;" nor whether your dress shall be black or brown; nor whether you shall be robust or an invalid; nor whether you shall live on the banks of the Hudson, the Shannon, the Seine, the Thames, the Tiber; but it is a question whether you will love Christ or suffer banishment; whether you will give yourselves to Him who owns you or fall under the millstone; whether you will rise to glories that have no terminus or plunge to a depth which has no bottom. I do not see how you can take the ten-thousandth part of a second to decide it, when there are two worlds fastened at opposite ends of a swivel, and the swivel turns on one point, and that point is now, now. Is it not fair that you love Him? Is it not right that you love Him? Is it not imperative that you love Him? What is it that keeps you from rushing up and throwing the arms of your affection about His neck? My text pronounces Anathema Maranatha upon all those who refuse to love Christ. Anathema--cut off. Cut off from light, from hope, from peace, from heaven. Oh, sharp, keen, sword-like words! Cut off! Everlastingly cut off! Behold, therefore, the goodness and severity of God: on them which fell, severity; but toward thee, goodness, if thou continue in His goodness; otherwise thou also shalt be cut off. Maranatha--that is the other word. "When he comes" is the meaning of it. Will He come? I see no signs of it. I looked into the sky as I rode down to church. I saw no signs of the coming. No signal of God's appearance. The earth stands solid on its foundation. No cry of welcome or of woe. Will He come! He will. Maranatha! Hear it ye mountains, and prepare to fall. Ye cities, and prepare to burn. Ye righteous, and prepare to reign. Ye wicked, and prepare to die. Maranatha! Maranatha! But, oh, my brother, I am not so aroused by that coming as I am by a previous coming, and that is the coming of our death hour, which will fix everything for us. I can not help now, while preaching, asking myself the question--Am I ready for that? If I am ready for the first I will be ready for the next. Are you ready for the emergency? Shall I tell you when your death hour will come? "Oh, no," says some one, "I don't want to know. I would rather not know." Some one says: "I would rather know, if you can tell me." I will tell you. It will be at the most unexpected moment, when you are most busy, and when you think you can be least spared. I can not exactly say whether it will be in the noon, or at the sundown when people are coming home, or in the morning when the world is waking up, or while the clock is striking twelve at night. But I tell you what I think, that with some of you it will be before next Saturday night. A minister of the Gospel said to an audience: "Before next Sabbath some of you will be gone." And a man said during the week: "I shall watch now, and if no one dies in our congregation during this week I shall go and tell the minister his falsehood." A man standing next to him said: "Why, it may be yourself." "Oh, no," he replied; "I shall live on to be an old man." That night he breathed his last. Standing before some who shall be launched into the great eternity, what are your equipments? About to jump, where will you land? Oh, the subject is overwhelming to me; and when I say these things to you, I say them to myself. "Lord, is it I? Is it I?" Some of us part to-night never to meet again. If never before, I now here commit my soul into the keeping of the Lord Jesus Christ. I throw my sinful heart upon His infinite mercy. But some of you will not do that. You will go over to the store to-morrow, and your comrades will say: "Where were you yesterday?" You will say: "I heard Talmage preach, and I don't believe what he preaches." And you will go on and die in your sins. Feeling that you are bound unto death eternal I solemnly take leave of you. Be careful of your health, for when your respiration gives out all your good times will have ended. Be careful in walking near a scaffold, for one falling brick or stone might usher you into the great eternity for which you have no preparation. A few months, or weeks, or days, or hours will pass on, and then you will see the last light, and hear the last music, and have the last pleasant emotion, and a destroyed eternity will rush upon you. Farewell, oh, doomed spirit! As you shove off from hope, I wave you this last salutation. Oh, it is hard to part forever and forever! I bid you one long, last, bitter, eternal adieu! CASTLE JESUS. "Who have fled for refuge."--HEB. vi: 18. Paul is here speaking of the consolations of Christians. He styles them these "who have fled for refuge." Moses established six cities of refuge--three on the east side of the river Jordan, and three on the west. When a man had killed any one accidentally he fled to one of these cities. The roads leading to them were kept perfectly good, so that when a man started for the refuge nothing might impede him. Along the cross-roads, and wherever there might be any mistake about the way, there were signs put up pointing in the right way, with the word "Refuge." Having gained the limits of one of these cities the man was safe, and the mothers of the priests provided for him. Some of us have seen our peril, and have fled to Christ, and feel that we shall never be captured. We are among those "who have fled for refuge." Christ is represented in the Bible as a Tower, a High Rock, a Fortress, and a Shelter. If you have seen any of the ancient castles of Europe, you know that they are surrounded by trenches, across which there is a draw-bridge. If an enemy approach, the people, for defense, would get into the castle, have the trenches filled with water, and lift up the draw-bridge. Whether to a city of safety, or a tower, Paul refers, I know not, and care not, for in any case he means Christ, the safety of the soul. But why talk of refuge? Who needs it, if the refuge spoken of be a city or a castle, into which men fly for safety? It is all sunlight here. No sound of war in our streets. We do not hear the rush of armed men against the doors of our dwellings. We do not come with weapons to church. Our lives are not at the mercy of an assassin. Why, then, talk of refuge? Alas! I stand before a company of imperiled men. No flock of sheep was ever so threatened or endangered of a pack of wolves; no ship was ever so beaten of a storm; no company of men were ever so environed of a band of savages. A refuge you must have, or fall before an all-devouring destruction. There are not so many serpents in Africa; there are not so many hyenas in Asia; there are not so many panthers in the forest, as there are transgressions attacking my soul. I will take the best unregenerated man anywhere, and say to him, You are utterly corrupt. If all the sins of your past life were marshaled in single file, they would reach from here to hell. If you have escaped all other sins, the fact that you have rejected the mission of the Son of God is enough to condemn you forever, pushing you off into bottomless darkness, struck by ten thousand hissing thunder-bolts of Omnipotent wrath. You are a sinner. The Bible says it, and your conscience affirms it. Not a small sinner, or a moderate sinner, or a tolerable sinner, but a great sinner, a protracted sinner, a vile sinner, an outrageous sinner, a condemned sinner. As God, with His all-scrutinizing gaze, looks upon you to-day, He can not find one sound spot in your soul. Sin has put scales on your eyes, and deadened your ear with an awful deafness, and palsied your right arm, and stunned your sensibilities, and blasted you with an infinite blasting. The Bible, which you admit to be true, affirms that you are diseased from the crown of your head to the sole of your foot. You are unclean; you are a leper. Believe not me, but believe God's Word, that over and over again announces, in language that a fool might understand, the total and complete depravity of the unchanged heart: "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." In addition to the sins of your life there are uncounted troubles in pursuit of you. Bereavements, losses, disappointments are a flock of vultures ever on the wing. Did you get your house built, and furnished, and made comfortable any sooner than misfortune came in without knocking, and sat beside you--a skeleton apparition? Have not pains shot their poisoned arrows, and fevers kindled their fire in your brain? Many of you, for years, have walked on burning marl. You stepped out of one disaster into another. You may, like Job, have cursed the day in which you were born. This world boils over with trouble for you, and you are wondering where the next grave will gape, and where the next storm will burst. Oh, ye pursued, sinning, dying, troubled, exhausted souls, are you not ready now to hear me while I tell you of Christ, the Refuge? A soldier, during the war, heard of the sickness of his wife and asked for a furlough. It was denied him, and he ran away. He was caught, brought back, and sentenced to be shot as a deserter. The officer took from his pocket a document that announced his death on the following morning. As the document was read, the man flinched not and showed no sorrow or anxiety. But the officer then took from his pocket another document that contained the prisoner's pardon. Then he broke down with deep emotion at the thought of the leniency that had been extended. Though you may not appear moved while I tell you of the law that thundered its condemnation, while I tell you of the pardon and the peace of the Gospel I wonder if they will not overcome you. Jesus is a safe refuge. Fort Hudson, Fort Pulaski, Fort Moultrie, Fort Sumter, Gibraltar, Sebastopol were taken. But Jesus is a castle into which the righteous runneth and is safe. No battering-ram can demolish its wall. No sappers or miners can explode its ramparts, no storm-bolt of perdition leap upon its towers. The weapons that guard this fort are omnipotent. Hell shall unlimber its great guns as death only to have them dismantled. In Christ our sins are pardoned, discomforted, blotted out, forgiven. An ocean can not so easily drown a fly as the ocean of God's forgiveness swallow up, utterly and forever, our transgressions. He is able to save unto the uttermost. You who have been so often overcome in a hand-to-hand fight with the world, the flesh, and devil, try this fortress. Once here, you are safe forever. Satan may charge up the steep, and shout amid the uproar of the fight, Forward, to his battalions of darkness; but you will stand in the might of the great God, your Redeemer, safe in the refuge. The troubles of life, that once overwhelmed you, may come on with their long wagon-trains laden with care and worryment; and you may hear in their tramp the bereavements that once broke your heart; but Christ is your friend, Christ your sympathizer, Christ your reward. Safe in the refuge! Death at last may lay the siege to your spirit, and the shadows of the sepulcher may shake their horrors in the breeze, and the hoarse howl of the night wind may be mingled with the cry of despair, yet you will shout in triumph from the ramparts, and the pale horse shall be hurled back on his haunches. Safe in the refuge! To this castle I fly. This last fire shall but illumine its towers; and the rolling thunders of the judgment will be the salvo of its victory. Just after Queen Victoria had been crowned--she being only nineteen or twenty years of age--Wellington handed her a death-warrant for her signature. It was to take the life of a soldier in the army. She said to Wellington: "Can there nothing good be said of this man?" He said: "No; he is a bad soldier, and deserves to die." She took up the death-warrant, and it trembled in her hand as she again asked: "Does no one know anything good of this man?" Wellington said: "I have heard that at his trial a man said that he had been a good son to his old mother." "Then let his life be spared," said the queen, and she ordered his sentence commuted. Christ is on a throne of grace. Our case is brought before him. The question is asked: "Is there any good about this man?" The law says: "None." Justice says: "None." Our own conscience says: "None." Nevertheless, Christ hands over our pardon, and asks us to take it. Oh, the height and depth, the length and breadth of his mercy! Again, Christ is a near refuge. When we are attacked, what advantage is there in having a fortress on the other side of the mountain? Many an army has had an intrenchment, but could not get to it before the battle opened. Blessed be God, it is no long march to our castle. We may get off, with all our troops, from the worst earthly defeat in this stronghold. In a moment we may step from the battle into the tower. I sing of a Saviour near. During the late war the forts of the North were named after the Northern generals, and the forts of the South were named after the Southern generals. This fortress of our soul I shall call Castle Jesus. I have seen men pursued of sins that chased them with feet of lightning, and yet with one glad leap they bounded into the tower. I have seen troubles, with more than the speed and terror of a cavalry troop, dash after a retreating soul, yet were hurled back in defeat from the bulwarks. Jesus near! A child's cry, a prisoner's prayer, a sailor's death-shriek, a pauper's moan reaches him. No pilgrimages on spikes. No journeying with a huge pack on your back. No kneeling in penance in cold vestibule of mercy. But an open door! A compassionate Saviour! A present salvation! A near refuge! Castle Jesus! Oh, why do you not put out your arm and reach it? Why do you not fly to it? Why be riddled, and shelled, and consumed under the rattling bombardment of perdition, when one moment's faith would plant you in the glorious refuge? I preach a Jesus here; a Jesus now; a fountain close to your feet; a fiery pillar right over your head; bread already broken for your hunger; a crown already gleaming for your brow. Hark to the castle gates rattling back for your entrance! Hear you not the welcome of those who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us? Again, it is a universal refuge. A fortress is seldom large enough to hold a whole army. I look out upon fourteen hundred millions of the race; and then I look at this fortress, and I say that there is room enough for all. If it had been possible, this salvation would have been monopolized. Men would have said: "Let us have all this to ourselves--no publicans, no plebeians, no lazzaroni, no converted pickpockets. We will ride toward heaven on fierce chargers, our feet in golden stirrups. Grace for lords, and dukes, and duchesses, and counts. Let Napoleon and his marshals come in, but not the common soldier that fought under him. Let the Girards and the Barings come in, but not the stevedores that unloaded their cargoes, or the men who kept their books." Heaven would have been a glorified Windsor Castle, or Tuileries, or Vatican; and exclusive aristocrats would have strutted through the golden streets to all eternity. Thank God, there is mercy for the poor! The great Doctor John Mason preached over a hundred times the same sermon; and the text was: "To the poor the Gospel is preached." Lazarus went up, while Dives went down; and there are candidates for Imperial splendors in the back alley, and by the peat-fire of the Irish shanty. King Jesus set up His throne in a manger, and made a resurrection day for the poor widow of Nain, and sprung the gate of heaven wide open, so that all the beggars, and thieves, and scoundrels of the universe may come in if they will only repent. I can snatch the knife from the murderer's hand while it is yet dripping with the blood of his victim, and tell him of the grace that is sufficient to pardon his soul. Do you say that I swing open the gate of heaven too far? I swing it open no wider than Christ, when He says: "Whosoever will, let him come." Don't you want to go in with such a rabble? Then you can stay out. The whole world will yet come into this refuge. The windows of heaven will be opened; God's trumpet of salvation will sound, and China will come from its tea-fields and rice-harvests, and lift itself up into the light. India will come forth, the chariots of salvation jostling to pieces her Juggernauts. Freezing Greenland, and sweltering Abyssinia, will, side by side, press into the kingdom; and transformed Bornesian cannibal preach of the resurrection of the missionary he has slain. The glory of Calvary will tinge the tip of the Pyrenees; and Lebanon cedars shall clap their hands; and by one swing of the sickle Christ shall harvest nations for the skies. I sing a world redeemed. In the rush of the winds that set the forest in motion, like giants wrestling on the hills, I see the tossing up of the triumphal branches that shall wave all along the line of our King as He comes to take empire. In the stormy diapason of the ocean's organ, and the more gentle strains that in the calm come sounding up from the crystal and jasper keys at the beach, I hear the prophecy: "The earth shall be filled with the knowledge of God as the waters fill the sea." The gospel morning will come like the natural morning. At first it seems only like another hue of the night. Then a pallor strikes through the sky, as though a company of ministering spirits, pale with tedious watching through the night, had turned in their flight upward to look back upon the earth. Then a faint glow of fire, as though on a barren beach a wrecked mariner was kindling a flickering flame. Then chariots and horses of fire racing up and down the heavens; then perfect day: "Who is she that cometh forth as the morning?" Come in, black Hottentot and snow-white Caucasian, come in, mitered official and diseased beggar; let all the world come in. Room in Castle Jesus! Sound it through all lands; sound it by all tongues. Let sermons preach it, and bells chime it, and pencils sketch it, and processions celebrate it, and bells ring it: Room in Castle Jesus! Again, Christ is the only refuge. If you were very sick, and there was only one medicine that would cure you, how anxious you would be to get that medicine. If you were in a storm at sea, and you found that the ship could not weather it, and there was only one harbor, how anxious you would be to get into that harbor. Oh, sin-sick soul, Christ is the only medicine; oh, storm-tossed soul, Christ is the only harbor. Need I tell a cultured audience like this that there is no other name given among men by which ye can be saved? That if you want the handcuffs knocked from your wrists, and the hopples from your feet, and the icy bands from your heart, there is just one Almighty arm in all the universe to do everything? There are other fortresses to which you might fly, and other ramparts behind which you might hide, but God will cut to pieces, with the hail of His vengeance, all these refuges of lies. Some of you are foundering in terrible Euroclydon. Hark to the howling of the gale, and the splintering of the spars, and the starting of the timbers, and the breaking of the billow, clear across the hurricane deck. Down she goes! Into the life-boat! Quick! One boat! One shore! One oarsman! One salvation! You are polluted; there is but one well at which you can wash clean. You are enslaved; there is but one proclamation that can emancipate. You are blind; there is but one salve that can kindle your vision. You are dead; there is but one trumpet that can burst the grave. I have seen men come near the refuge but not make entrance. They came up, and fronted the gate, and looked in, but passed on, and passed down; and they will curse their folly through all eternity, that they despised the only refuge. Oh! forget everything else I have said, if you will but remember that there is but one atonement, one sacrifice, one justification, one faith, one hope, one Jesus, one refuge. There is that old Christian. Many a scar on his face tells where trouble lacerated him. He has fought with wild beasts at Ephesus. He has had enough misfortune to shadow his countenance with perpetual despair. Yet he is full of hope. Has he found any new elixir? "No," he says; "I have found Jesus the refuge." Christ is our only defense at the last. John Holland, in his concluding moment, swept his hand over the Bible, and said: "Come, let us gather a few flowers from this garden." As it was even-time he said to his wife: "Have you lighted the candles?" "No," she said; "we have not lighted the candles." "Then," said he, "it must be the brightness of the face of Jesus that I see." Ask that dying Christian woman the source of her comfort. Why that supernatural glow on the curtains of the death-chamber; and the tossing out of one hand, as if to wave the triumph, and the reaching up of the other, as if to take a crown? Hosanna on the tongue. Glory beaming from the forehead. Heaven in the eyes. Spirit departing. Wings to bear it. Anthems to charm it. Open the gates to receive it. Hallelujah! Speak, dying Christian--what light do you see? What sounds do you hear? The thin lips part. The pale hand is lifted. She says: "Jesus the refuge!" Let all in the death-chamber stop weeping now. Celebrate the triumph. Take up a song. Clap your hands. Shout it. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! But this refuge will be of no worth to you unless you lay hold of it. The time will come when you will wish that you had done so. It will come soon. At an unexpected moment it will come. The castle bridge will be drawn up and the fortress closed. When you see this discomfiture, and look back, and look up at the storm gathering, and the billowy darkness of death has rolled upon the sheeted flash of the storm, you will discover the utter desolation of those who are outside of the refuge. What you propose to do in this matter you had better do right away. A mistake this morning may never be corrected. Jesus, the Great Captain of salvation, puts forth his wounded hand to-day to cheer you on the race to heaven. If you despise it, the ghastliest vision that will haunt the eternal darkness of your soul will be the gaping, bleeding wounds of the dying Redeemer. Jesus is to be crucified to-day. Think not of it as a day that is past. He comes before you to-day weary and worn. Here is the cross, and here is the victim. But there are no nails, and there are no thorns, and there are no hammers. Who will furnish these? A man out yonder says: "I will furnish with my sins the nails!" Now we have the cross, and the victim, and the nails. But we have no thorns. Who will furnish the thorns? A man in the audience says: "With my sins I will furnish the thorns!" Now we have the cross, the victim, the nails, and the thorns. But we have no hammers. Who will furnish the hammers? A voice in the audience says: "My hard heart shall be the hammer!" Everything is ready now. The crucifixion goes out! See Jesus dying! "Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world." STRIPPING THE SLAIN. "And it came to pass on the morrow, when the Philistines came to strip the slain, that they found Saul and his three sons fallen in Mount Gilboa."--I. SAM. xxxi: 8. Some of you were at South Mountain, or Shiloh, or Ball's Bluff, or Gettysburg, and I ask you if there is any sadder sight than a battle-field after the guns have stopped firing? I walked across the field of Antietam just after the conflict. The scene was so sickening I shall not describe it. Every valuable thing had been taken from the bodies of the dead, for there are always vultures hovering over and around about an army, and they pick up the watches, and the memorandum books, and the letters, and the daguerreotypes, and the hats, and the coats, applying them to their own uses. The dead make no resistance. So there are always camp followers going on and after an army, as when Scott went down into Mexico, as when Napoleon marched up toward Moscow, as when Von Moltke went to Sedan. There is a similar scene in my text. Saul and his army had been horribly cut to pieces. Mount Gilboa was ghastly with the dead. On the morrow the stragglers came on to the field, and they lifted the latchet of the helmet from under the chin of the dead, and they picked up the swords and bent them on their knee to test the temper of the metal, and they opened the wallets and counted the coin. Saul lay dead along the ground, eight or nine feet in length, and I suppose the cowardly Philistines, to show their bravery, leaped upon the trunk of his carcass, and jeered at the fallen slain, and whistled through the mouth of the helmet. Before night those cormorants had taken everything valuable from the field: "And it came to pass on the morrow, when the Philistines came to strip the slain, that they found Saul and his three sons fallen in Mount Gilboa." Before I get through to-day I will show you that the same process is going on all the world over, and every day, and that when men have fallen, Satan and the world, so far from pitying them or helping them, go to work remorselessly to take what little is left, thus stripping the slain. There are tens of thousands of young men every year coming from the country to our great cities. They come with brave hearts and grand expectations. They think they will be Rufus Choates in the law, or Drapers in chemistry, or A.T. Stewarts in merchandise. The country lads sit down in the village grocery, with their feet on the iron rod around the red-hot stove, in the evening, talking over the prospects of the young man who has gone off to the city. Two or three of them think that perhaps he may get along very well and succeed, but the most of them prophesy failure; for it is very hard to think that those whom we knew in boyhood will ever make any stir in the world. But our young man has a fine position in a dry-goods store. The month is over. He gets his wages. He is not accustomed to have so much money belonging to himself. He is a little excited, and does not know exactly what to do with it, and he spends it in some places where he ought not. Soon there come up new companions and acquaintances from the bar-rooms and the saloons of the city. Soon that young man begins to waver in the battle of temptation, and soon his soul goes down. In a few months, or few years, he has fallen. He is morally dead. He is a mere corpse of what he once was. The harpies of sin snuff up the taint and come on the field. His garments gradually give out. He has pawned his watch. His health is failing him. His credit perishes. He is too poor to stay in the city, and he is too poor to pay his way home to the country. Down! down! Why do the low fellows of the city now stick to him so closely? Is it to help him back to a moral and spiritual life? Oh, no! I will tell you why they stay; they are the Philistines stripping the slain. Do not look where I point, but yonder stands a man who once had a beautiful home in this city. His house had elegant furniture, his children were beautifully clad, his name was synonymous with honor and usefulness; but evil habit knocked at his front door, knocked at his back door, knocked at his parlor door, knocked at his bedroom door. Where is the piano? Sold to pay the rent. Where is the hat-rack? Sold to meet the butcher's bill. Where are the carpets? Sold to get bread. Where is the wardrobe? Sold to get rum. Where are the daughters? Working their fingers off in trying to keep the family together. Worse and worse, until everything is gone. Who is that going up the front steps of that house? That is a creditor, hoping to find some chair or bed that has not been levied upon. Who are those two gentlemen now going up the front steps? The one is a constable, the other is the sheriff. Why do they go there? The unfortunate is morally dead, socially dead, financially dead. Why do they go there? I will tell you why the creditors, and the constables, and the sheriffs go there. They are, some on their own account, and some on account of the law, stripping the slain. An ex-member of Congress, one of the most eloquent men that ever stood in the House of Representatives, said in his last moments: "This is the end. I am dying--dying on a borrowed bed, covered by a borrowed sheet, in a house built by public charity. Bury me under that tree in the middle of the field, where I shall not be crowded, for I have been crowded all my life." Where were the jolly politicians and the dissipating comrades who had been with him, laughing at his jokes, applauding his eloquence, and plunging him into sin? They have left. Why? His money is gone, his reputation is gone, his wit is gone, his clothes are gone, everything is gone. Why should they stay any longer? They have completed their work. They have stripped the slain. There is another way, however, of doing that same work. Here is a man who, through his sin, is prostrate. He acknowledges that he has done wrong. Now is the time for you to go to that man and say: "Thousands of people have been as far astray as you are, and got back." Now is the time for you to go to that man and tell him of the omnipotent grace of God, that is sufficient for any poor soul. Now is the time to go to tell him how swearing John Bunyan, through the grace of God, afterward came to the celestial city. Now is the time to go to that man and tell him how profligate Newton came, through conversion, to be a world-renowned preacher of righteousness. Now is the time to tell that man that multitudes who have been pounded with all the flails of sin and dragged through all the sewers of pollution at last have risen to positive dominion of moral power. You do not tell him that, do you? No. You say to him: "Loan you money? No. You are down. You will have to go to the dogs. Lend you a shilling? I would not lend you five cents to keep you from the gallows. You are debauched! Get out of my sight, now! Down; you will have to stay down!" And thus those bruised and battered men are sometimes accosted by those who ought to lift them up. Thus the last vestige of hope is taken from them. Thus those who ought to go and lift and save them are guilty of stripping the slain. The point I want to make is this: sin is hard, cruel, and merciless. Instead of helping a man up it helps him down; and when, like Saul and his comrades, you lie on the field, it will come and steal your sword and helmet and shield, leaving you to the jackal and the crow. But the world and Satan do not do all their work with the outcast and abandoned. A respectable, impenitent man comes to die. He is flat on his back. He could not get up if the house were on fire. Adroitest medical skill and gentlest nursing have been a failure. He has come to his last hour. What does Satan do for such a man? Why, he fetches up all the inapt, disagreeable, and harrowing things in his life. He says: "Do you remember those chances you had for heaven, and missed them? Do you remember all those lapses in conduct? Do you remember all those opprobrious words and thoughts and actions? Don't remember them, eh? I'll make you remember them." And then he takes all the past and empties it on that death-bed, as the mail-bags are emptied on the post-office floor. The man is sick. He can not get away from them. Then the man says to Satan: "You have deceived me. You told me that all would be well. You said there would be no trouble at the last. You told me if I did so and so, you would do so and so. Now you corner me, and hedge me up, and submerge me in everything evil." "Ha! ha!" says Satan, "I was only fooling you. It is mirth for me to see you suffer. I have been for thirty years plotting to get you just where you are. It is hard for you now--it will be worse for you after awhile. It pleases me. Lie still, sir. Don't flinch or shudder. Come now, I will tear off from you the last rag of expectation. I will rend away from your soul the last hope. I will leave you bare for the beating of the storm. It is my business to strip the slain." While men are in robust health, and their digestion is good, and their nerves are strong, they think their physical strength will get them safely through the last exigency. They say it is only cowardly women who are afraid at the last, and cry out for God. "Wait till I come to die. I will show you. You won't hear me pray, nor call for a minister, nor want a chapter read me from the Bible." But after the man has been three weeks in a sick-room his nerves are not so steady, and his worldly companions are not anywhere near to cheer him up, and he is persuaded that he must quit life: his physical courage is all gone. He jumps at the fall of a teaspoon in a saucer. He shivers at the idea of going away. He says: "Wife, I don't think my infidelity is going to take me through. For God's sake don't bring up the children to do as I have done. If you feel like it, I wish you would read a verse or two out of Fannie's Sabbath-school hymn-book or New Testament." But Satan breaks in, and says: "You have always thought religion trash and a lie; don't give up at the last. Besides that, you can not, in the hour you have to live, get off on that track. Die as you lived. With my great black wings I shut out that light. Die in darkness. I rend away from you that last vestige of hope. It is my business to strip the slain." A man who had rejected Christianity and thought it all trash, came to die. He was in the sweat of a great agony, and his wife said: "We had better have some prayer." "Mary, not a breath of that," he said. "The lightest word of prayer would roll back on me like rocks on a drowning man. I have come to the hour of test. I had a chance, and I forfeited it. I believed in a liar, and he has left me in the lurch. Mary, bring me Tom Paine, that book that I swore by and lived by, and pitch it in the fire, and let it burn and burn as I myself shall soon burn." And then, with the foam on his lip and his hands tossing wildly in the air, he cried out: "Blackness of darkness! Oh, my God, too late!" And the spirits of darkness whistled up from the depth, and wheeled around and around him, stripping the slain. Sin is a luxury now; it is exhilaration now; it is victory now. But after awhile it is collision; it is defeat; it is extermination; it is jackalism; it is robbing the dead; it is stripping the slain. Give it up to-day--give it up! Oh, how you have been cheated on, my brother, from one thing to another! All these years you have been under an evil mastery that you understood not. What have your companions done for you? What have they done for your health? Nearly ruined it by carousal. What have they done for your fortune? Almost scattered it by spendthrift behavior. What have they done for your reputation? Almost ruined it with good men. What have they done for your immortal soul? Almost insured its overthrow. You are hastening on toward the consummation of all that is sad. To-day you stop and think, but it is only for a moment, and then you will tramp on, and at the close of this service you will go out, and the question will be: "How did you like the sermon?" And one man will say: "I liked it very well," and another man will say: "I didn't like it at all;" but neither of the answers will touch the tremendous fact that, if impenitent, you are going at eighteen knots an hour toward shipwreck! Yea, you are in a battle where you will fall; and while your surviving relatives will take your remaining estate, and the cemetery will take your body, the messengers of darkness will take your soul, and come and go about you for the next ten million years, stripping the slain. Many are crying out: "I admit I am slain, I admit it!" On what battle-field, my brothers? By what weapon? "Polluted imagination," says one man; "Intoxicating liquor," says another man; "My own hard heart," says another man. Do you realize this? Then I come to tell you that the omnipotent Christ is ready to walk across this battle-field, and revive, and resuscitate, and resurrect your dead soul. Let Him take your hand and rub away the numbness; your head, and bathe off the aching; your heart, and stop its wild throb. He brought Lazarus to life; He brought Jairus' daughter to life; He brought the young man of Nain to life, and these are three proofs anyhow that he can bring you to life. When the Philistines came down on the field, they stepped between the corpses, and they rolled over the dead, and they took away everything that was valuable; and so it was with the people that followed after our army at Chancellorsville, and at Pittsburg Landing, and at Stone River, and at Atlanta, stripping the slain; but the Northern and Southern women--God bless them!--came on the field with basins, and pads, and towels, and lint, and cordials, and Christian encouragement; and the poor fellows that lay there lifted up their arms and said: "Oh, how good that does feel since you dressed it!" and others looked up and said: "Oh, how you make me think of my mother!" and others said: "Tell the folks at home I died thinking about them;" and another looked up and said: "Miss, won't you sing me a verse of 'Home, Sweet Home,' before I die?" And then the tattoo was sounded, and the hats were off, and the service was read: "I am the resurrection and the life;" and in honor of the departed the muskets were loaded, and the command given: "Take aim--fire!" And there was a shingle set up at the head of the grave, with the epitaph of "Lieutenant ---- in the Fourteenth Massachusetts Regulars," or "Captain ---- in the Fifteenth Regiment of South Carolina Volunteers." And so to-night, across this great field of moral and spiritual battle, the angels of God come walking among the slain, and there are voices of comfort, and voices of hope, and voices of resurrection, and voices of heaven. Christ is ready to give life to the dead. He will make the deaf ear to hear, the blind eye to see, the pulseless heart to beat, and the damp walls of your spiritual charnel-house will crash into ruin at His cry: "Come forth!" I verily believe there are souls in this house who are now dead in sin, who in half an hour will be alive forever. There was a thrilling dream, a glorious dream--you may have heard of it. Ezekiel closed his eyes, and he saw two mountains, and a valley between the mountains. That valley looked as though there had been a great battle there, and a whole army had been slain, and they had been unburied; and the heat of the land, and the vultures coming there, soon the bones were exposed to the sun, and they looked like thousands of snow-drifts all through the valley. Frightful spectacle! The bleaching skeletons of a host! But Ezekiel still kept his eyes shut; and lo! there were four currents of wind that struck the battle-field, and when those four currents of wind met, the bones began to rattle; and the foot came to the ankle, and the hand came to the wrist, and the jaws clashed together, and the spinal column gathered up the ganglions and the nervous fiber, and all the valley wriggled and writhed, and throbbed, and rocked, and rose up. There, a man coming to life. There, a hundred men. There, a thousand; and all falling into line, waiting for the shout of their commander. Ten thousand bleached skeletons springing up into ten thousand warriors, panting for the fray. I hope that instead of being a dream it may be a prophecy of what we shall see here to-day. Let this north wall be one of the mountains, and the south wall be taken for another of the mountains, and let all the aisles and the pews be the valley between, for there are thousands here to-day without one pulsation of spiritual life. I look off in one direction, and they are dead. I look off in another direction, and they are dead. Who will bring them to life? Who shall rouse them up? If I should halloo at the top of my voice I could not wake them. Wait a moment! Listen! There is a rustling. There is a gale from heaven. It comes from the north, and from the south, and from the east, and from the west. It shuts us in. It blows upon the slain. There a soul begins to move in spiritual life; there, ten souls; there, a score of souls; there, a hundred souls. The nostrils throbbing in divine respiration, the hands lifted as though to take hold of heaven, the tongue moving as in prayer and adoration. Life! immortal life coming into the slain. Ten men for God--fifty--a hundred--a regiment--an army for God! Oh, that we might have such a scene here to-day! In Ezekiel's words, and in almost a frenzy of prayer, I cry: "Come from the four winds, O Breath! and breathe upon the slain." You will have to surrender your heart to-day to God. You can not take the responsibility of fighting against the Spirit in this crisis which will decide whether you are to go to heaven or to hell--to join the hallelujahs of the saved, or the lamentations of the lost. You must pray. You must repent. You must this day fling your sinful soul on the pardoning mercy of God. You must! I see your resolution against God giving way, your determination wavering. I break through the breach in the wall and follow up the advantage gained, hoping to rout your last opposition to Christ, and to make you "ground arms" at the feet of the Divine Conqueror. Oh, you must! You must! The moon does not ask the tides of the Atlantic Ocean to rise. It only stoops down with two great hands of light, the one at the European beach, and the other at the American beach, and then lifts the great layer of molten silver. And God, it seems to me, is now going to lift this audience to newness of life. Do you not feel the swellings of the great oceanic tides of Divine mercy? My heart is in anguish to have you saved. For this I pray, and preach, and long, glad to be called a fool for Christ's sake, and your salvation. Some one replies: "Dear me, I do wish I could have these matters arranged with my God. I want to be saved. God knows I want to be saved; but you stand there talking about this matter, and you don't show me how." My dear brother, the work has all been done. Christ did it with His own torn hand, and lacerated foot, and bleeding side. He took your place, and died your death, if you will only believe it--only accept Him as your substitute. What an amazing pity that any man should go from this house unblessed, when such a large blessing is offered him at less cost than you would pay for a pin--"without money and without price." I have driven down to-day with the Lord's ambulance to the battle-field where your soul lies exposed to the darkness and the storm, and I want to lift you in, and drive off with you toward heaven. Oh, Christians, by your prayers help to lift these wounded souls into the ambulance! God forbid that any should be left on the field, and that at last eternal sorrow, and remorse, and despair should come up around their soul like the bandit Philistines to the field of Gilboa, stripping the slain. SOLD OUT. "Ye have sold yourselves for nought; and ye shall be redeemed without money."--ISA. lii: 3. The Jews had gone headlong into sin, and as a punishment they had been carried captive to Babylon. They found that iniquity did not pay. Cyrus seized Babylon, and felt so sorry for these poor captive Jews that, without a dollar of compensation, he let them go home. So that, literally, my text was fulfilled: "Ye have sold yourselves for nought; and ye shall be redeemed without money." There is enough Gospel in this text for fifty sermons; though I never heard of its being preached on. There are persons in this house who have, like the Jews of the text, sold out. You do not seem to belong either to yourselves or to God. The title-deeds have been passed over to "the world, the flesh, and the devil," but the purchaser has never paid up. "Ye have sold yourselves for nought." When a man passes himself over to the world he expects to get some adequate compensation. He has heard the great things that the world does for a man, and he believes it. He wants two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That will be horses, and houses, and a summer-resort, and jolly companionship. To get it he parts with his physical health by overwork. He parts with his conscience. He parts with much domestic enjoyment. He parts with opportunities for literary culture. He parts with his soul. And so he makes over his entire nature to the world. He does it in four installments. He pays down the first installment, and one fourth of his nature is gone. He pays down the second installment, and one half of his nature is gone. He pays down the third installment, and three quarters of his nature are gone; and after many years have gone by he pays down the fourth installment, and, lo! his entire nature is gone. Then he comes up to the world and says: "Good-morning. I have delivered to you the goods. I have passed over to you my body, my mind, and my soul, and I have come now to collect the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars." "Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?" says the world. "What do you mean?" "Well," you say, "I come to collect the money you owe me, and I expect you now to fulfill your part of the contract." "But," says the world, "_I have failed. I am bankrupt._ I can not possibly pay that debt. I have not for a long while expected to pay it." "Well," you then say, "give me back the goods." "Oh, no," says the world, "they are all gone. I can not give them back to you." And there you stand on the confines of eternity, your spiritual character gone, staggering under the consideration that "you have sold yourself for nought." I tell you the world is a liar; it does not keep its promises. It is a cheat, and it fleeces everything it can put its hands on. It is a bogus world. It is a six-thousand-year-old swindle. Even if it pays the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for which you contracted, it pays them in bonds that will not be worth anything in a little while. Just as a man may pay down ten thousand dollars in hard cash and get for it worthless scrip--so the world passes over to you the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in that shape which will not be worth a farthing to you a thousandth part of a second after you are dead. "Oh," you say, "it will help to bury me, anyhow." Oh, my brother! you need not worry about that. The world will bury you soon enough, from sanitary considerations. After you have been deceased for three or four days you will compel the world to bury you. Post-mortem emoluments are of no use to you. The treasures of this world will not pass current in the future world; and if all the wealth of the Bank of England were put in the pocket of your shroud, and you in the midst of the Jordan of death were asked to pay three cents for your ferriage, you could not do it. There comes a moment in your existence beyond which all earthly values fail; and many a man has wakened up in such a time to find that he has sold out for eternity, and has nothing to show for it. I should as soon think of going to Chatham Street to buy silk pocket-handkerchiefs with no cotton in them, as to go to this world expecting to find any permanent happiness. It has deceived and deluded every man that has ever put his trust in it. History tells us of one who resolved that he would have all his senses gratified at one and the same time, and he expended thousands of dollars on each sense. He entered a room, and there were the first musicians of the land pleasing his ear, and there were fine pictures fascinating his eye, and there were costly aromatics regaling his nostril, and there were the richest meats, and wines, and fruits, and confections pleasing the appetite, and there was a soft couch of sinful indulgence on which he reclined; and the man declared afterward that he would give ten times what he had given if he could have one week of such enjoyment, even though he lost his soul by it. Ah! that was the rub. He did lose his soul by it! Cyrus the Conqueror thought for a little while that he was making a fine thing out of this world, and yet before he came to his grave he wrote out this pitiful epitaph for his monument: "I am Cyrus. I occupied the Persian Empire. I was king over Asia. Begrudge me not this monument." But the world in after years plowed up his sepulcher. The world clapped its hands and stamped its feet in honor of Charles Lamb; but what does he say? "I walk up and down, thinking I am happy, but feeling I am not." Call the roll, and be quick about it. Samuel Johnson, the learned! Happy? "No. I am afraid I shall some day get crazy." William Hazlitt, the great essayist! Happy? "No. I have been for two hours and a half going up and down Paternoster Row with a volcano in my breast." Smollett, the witty author! Happy? "No. I am sick of praise and blame, and I wish to God that I had such circumstances around me that I could throw my pen into oblivion." Buchanan, the world-renowned writer, exiled from his own country, appealing to Henry VIII. for protection! Happy? "No. Over mountains covered with snow, and through valleys flooded with rain, I come a fugitive." Molière, the popular dramatic author! Happy? "No. That wretch of an actor just now recited four of my lines without the proper accent and gesture. To have the children of my brain so hung, drawn, and quartered, tortures me like a condemned spirit." I went to see a worldling die. As I went into the hall I saw its floor was tessellated, and its wall was a picture-gallery. I found his death-chamber adorned with tapestry until it seemed as if the clouds of the setting sun had settled in the room. The man had given forty years to the world--his wit, his time, his genius, his talent, his soul. Did the world come in to stand by his death-bed, and clearing off the vials of bitter medicine, put down any compensation? Oh, no! The world does not like sick and dying people, and leaves them in the lurch. It ruined this man, and then left him. He had a magnificent funeral. All the ministers wore scarfs, and there were forty-three carriages in a row; but the departed man appreciated not the obsequies. I want to persuade my audience that this world is a poor investment; that it does not pay ninety per cent. of satisfaction, nor eighty per cent., nor twenty per cent., nor two per cent., nor one; that it gives no solace when a dead babe lies on your lap; that it gives no peace when conscience rings its alarm; that it gives no explanation in the day of dire trouble; and at the time of your decease it takes hold of the pillow-case, and shakes out the feathers, and then jolts down in the place thereof sighs, and groans, and execrations, and then makes you put your head on it. Oh, ye who have tried this world, is it a satisfactory portion? Would you advise your friends to make the investment? No. "Ye have sold yourselves for nought." Your conscience went. Your hope went. Your Bible went. Your heaven went. Your God went. When a sheriff under a writ from the courts sells a man out, the officer generally leaves a few chairs and a bed, and a few cups and knives; but in this awful vendue in which you have been engaged the auctioneer's mallet has come down upon body, mind, and soul: Going! Gone! "Ye have sold yourselves for nought." How could you do so? Did you think that your soul was a mere trinket which for a few pennies you could buy in a toy shop? Did you think that your soul, if once lost, might be found again if you went out with torches and lanterns? Did you think that your soul was short-lived, and that, panting, it would soon lie down for extinction? Or had you no idea what your soul was worth? Did you ever put your forefingers on its eternal pulses? Have you never felt the quiver of its peerless wing? Have you not known that, after leaving the body, the first step of your soul reaches to the stars, and the next step to the furthest outposts of God's universe, and that it will not die until the day when the everlasting Jehovah expires? Oh, my brother, what possessed you that you should part with your soul so cheap? "Ye have sold yourselves for nought." But I have some good news to tell you. I want to engage in a litigation for the recovery of that soul of yours. I want to show that you have been cheated out of it. I want to prove, as I will, that you were crazy on that subject, and that the world, under such circumstances, has no right to take the title-deed from you; and if you will join me I shall get a decree from the High Chancery Court of Heaven reinstating you into the possession of your soul. "Oh," you say, "I am afraid of lawsuits; they are so expensive, and I can not pay the cost." Then have you forgotten the last half of my text? "Ye have sold yourselves for nought; and ye shall be redeemed without money." Money is good for a great many things, but it can not do anything in this matter of the soul. You can not buy your way through. Dollars and pounds sterling mean nothing at the gate of mercy. If you could buy your salvation, heaven would be a great speculation, an extension of Wall Street. Bad men would go up and buy out the place, and leave us to shift for ourselves. But as money is not a lawful tender, what is? I will answer: Blood! Whose? Are we to go through the slaughter? Oh, no; it wants richer blood than ours. It wants a king's blood. It must be poured from royal arteries. It must be a sinless torrent. But where is the king? I see a great many thrones and a great many occupants, yet none seem to be coming down to the rescue. But after awhile the clock of night in Bethlehem strikes twelve, and the silver pendulum of a star swings across the sky, and I see the King of Heaven rising up, and He descends, and steps down from star to star, and from cloud to cloud, lower and lower, until He touches the sheep-covered hills, and then on to another hill, this last skull-covered, and there, at the sharp stroke of persecution, a rill incarnadine trickles down, and we who could not be redeemed by money are redeemed by precious and imperial blood. We have in this day professed Christians who are so rarefied and etherealized that they do not want a religion of blood. What do you want? You seem to want a religion of brains. The Bible says: "In the blood is the life." No atonement without blood. Ought not the apostle to know? What did he say? "Ye are redeemed not with corruptible things, such as silver and gold, but by the precious blood of Christ." You put your lancet into the arm of our holy religion and withdraw the blood, and you leave it a mere corpse, fit only for the grave. Why did God command the priests of old to strike the knife into the kid, and the goat, and the pigeon, and the bullock, and the lamb? It was so that when the blood rushed out from these animals on the floor of the ancient tabernacle the people should be compelled to think of the coming carnage of the Son of God. No blood, no atonement. I think that God intended to impress us with the vividness of that color. The green of the grass, the blue of the sky, would not have startled and aroused us like this deep crimson. It is as if God had said: "Now, sinner, wake up and see what the Saviour endured for you. This is not water. This is not wine. It is blood. It is the blood of my own Son. It is the blood of the Immaculate. It is the blood of God." Without the shedding of blood is no remission. There has been many a man who in courts of law has pleaded "not guilty," who nevertheless has been condemned because there was blood found on his hands, or blood found in his room; and what shall we do in the last day if it be found that we have recrucified the Lord of Glory and have never repented of it? You must believe in the blood or die. No escape. Unless you let the sacrifice of Jesus go in your stead you yourself must suffer. It is either Christ's blood or your blood. "Oh," says some one, "the thought of blood sickens me." Good. God intended it to sicken you with your sin. Do not act as though you had nothing to do with that Calvarian massacre. You had. Your sins were the implements of torture. Those implements were not made of steel, and iron, and wood, so much as out of your sins. Guilty of this homicide, and this regicide, and this deicide, confess your guilt to-day. Ten thousand voices of heaven bring in the verdict against you of guilty, guilty. Prepare to die, or believe in that blood. Stretch yourself out for the sacrifice, or accept the Saviour's sacrifice. Do not fling away your one chance. It seems to me as if all heaven were trying to bid in your soul. The first bid it makes is the tears of Christ at the tomb of Lazarus; but that is not a high enough price. The next bid heaven makes is the sweat of Gethsemane; but it is too cheap a price. The next bid heaven makes seems to be the whipped back of Pilate's hall; but it is not a high enough price. Can it be possible that heaven can not buy you in? Heaven tries once more. It says: "I bid this time for that man's soul the tortures of Christ's martyrdom, the blood on His temple, the blood on His cheek, the blood on His chin, the blood on His hand, the blood on His side, the blood on His knee, the blood on His foot--the blood in drops, the blood in rills, the blood in pools coagulated beneath the cross; the blood that wet the tips of the soldiers' spears, the blood that plashed warm in the faces of His enemies." Glory to God, that bid wins it! The highest price that was ever paid for anything was paid for your soul. Nothing could buy it but blood! The estranged property is bought back. Take it. "You have sold yourselves for nought; and ye shall be redeemed without money." O atoning blood, cleansing blood, life-giving blood, sanctifying blood, glorifying blood of Jesus! Why not burst into tears at the thought that for thee He shed it--for thee the hard-hearted, for thee the lost? "No," says some one; "I will have nothing to do with it except that, like the Jews, I put both my hands into that carnage and scoop up both palms full, and throw it on my head and cry: 'His blood be on us and on our children!'" Can you do such a shocking thing as that? Just rub your handkerchief across your brow and look at it. It is the blood of the Son of God whom you have despised and driven back all these years. Oh, do not do that any longer! Come out frankly and boldly and honestly, and tell Christ you are sorry. You can not afford to so roughly treat Him upon whom everything depends. I do not know how you will get away from this subject. You see that you are sold out, and that Christ wants to buy you back. There are three persons who come after you to-night: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. They unite their three omnipotences in one movement for your salvation. You will not take up arms against the Triune God, will you? Is there enough muscle in your arm for such a combat? By the highest throne in heaven, and by the deepest chasm in hell, I beg you look out. Unless you allow Christ to carry away your sins, they will carry you away. Unless you allow Christ to lift you up, they will drag you down. There is only one hope for you, and that is the blood. Christ, the sin-offering, bearing your transgressions. Christ, the surety, paying your debts. Christ, the divine Cyrus, loosening your Babylonish captivity. Would you not like to be free? Here is the price of your liberation--not money, but blood. I tremble from head to foot, not because I fear your presence, for I am used to that, but because I fear that you will miss your chance for immortal rescue, and die. This is the alternative divinely put: "He that believeth on the Son shall have everlasting life; and he that believeth not on the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him." In the last day, if you now reject Christ, every drop of that sacrificial blood, instead of pleading for your release as it would have pleaded if you had repented, will plead against you. It will seem to say: "They refused the ransom; they chose to die; let them die; they must die. Down with them to the weeping and the wailing. Depart! go away from me. You would not have me, now I will not have you. Sold out for eternity." O Lord God of the judgment day! avert that calamity! Let us see the quick flash of the cimeter that slays the sin but saves the sinner. Strike, omnipotent God, for the soul's deliverance! Beat, O eternal sea! with all thy waves against the barren beach of that rocky soul, and make it tremble. Oh! the oppressiveness of the hour, the minute, the second, on which the soul's destiny quivers, and this is that hour, that minute, that second! I wonder what proportion of this audience will be saved? What proportion will be lost? When the "Schiller" went down, out of three hundred and eighty people only forty were saved. When the "Ville du Havre" went down, out of three hundred and forty about fifty were saved. Out of this audience to-day, how many will get to the shore of heaven? It is no idle question for me to ask, for many of you I shall never see again until the day when the books are open. Some years ago there came down a fierce storm on the sea-coast, and a vessel got in the breakers and was going to pieces. They threw up some signal of distress, and the people on the shore saw them. They put out in a life-boat. They came on, and they saw the poor sailors, almost exhausted, clinging to a raft; and so afraid were the boatmen that the men would give up before they got to them, they gave them three rounds of cheers, and cried: "Hold on, there! Hold on! We'll save you!" After awhile the boat came up. One man was saved by having the boat-hook put in the collar of his coat; and some in one way, and some in another; but they all got into the boat. "Now," says the captain, "for the shore. Pull away now, pull!" The people on the land were afraid the life-boat had gone down. They said: "How long the boat stays. Why, it must have been swamped, and they have all perished together." And there were men and women on the pier-heads and on the beach wringing their hands; and while they waited and watched, they saw something looming up through the mist, and it turned out to be the life-boat. As soon as it came within speaking distance the people on the shore cried out: "Did you save any of them? Did you save any of them?" And as the boat swept through the boiling surf and came to the pier-head, the captain waved his hand over the exhausted sailors that lay flat on the bottom of the boat, and cried: "All saved! Thank God! All saved!" So may it be to-day. The waves of your sin run high, the storm is on you, the danger is appalling. Oh! shipwrecked soul, I have come for you. I cheer you with this Gospel hope. God grant that within the next ten minutes we may row with you into the harbor of God's mercy. And when these Christian men gather around to see the result of this service, and the glorified gathering on the pier-heads of heaven to watch and to listen, may we be able to report all saved! Young and old, good and bad! All saved! Saved from sin, and death, and hell. Saved for time. Saved for eternity. "And so it came to pass that they all escaped safe to land." SUMMER TEMPTATIONS. "Come ye yourselves apart unto a desert place and rest awhile."--MARK vi: 31. Here Christ advises His apostles to take a vacation. They have been living an excited as well as a useful life, and He advises that they get out into the country. When, six weeks ago, standing in this place, I advocated, with all the energy I could command, the Saturday afternoon holiday, I did not think the people would so soon get that release. By divine fiat it has come, and I rejoice that more people will have opportunity of recreation this summer than in any previous summer. Others will have whole weeks and months of rest. The railway trains are being laden with passengers and baggage on their way to the mountains and the lakes and the sea-shore. Multitudes of our citizens are packing their trunks for a restorative absence. The city heats are pursuing the people with torch and fear of sunstroke. The long silent halls of sumptuous hotels are all abuzz with excited arrivals. The crystalline surface of Winnipiseogee is shattered with the stroke of steamer, laden with excursionists. The antlers of Adirondack deer rattle under the shot of city sportsmen. The trout make fatal snaps at the hook of adroit sportsmen and toss their spotted brilliance into the game-basket. Already the baton of the orchestral leader taps the music-stand on the hotel green, and American life puts on festal array, and the rumbling of the tenpin alley, and the crack of the ivory balls on the green-baized billiard tables, and the jolting of the bar-room goblets, and the explosive uncorking of champagne bottles, and the whirl and the rustle of the ball-room dance, and the clattering hoofs of the race-courses, attest that the season for the great American watering-places is fairly inaugurated. Music--flute and drum and cornet-à-piston and clapping cymbals--will wake the echoes of the mountains. Glad I am that fagged-out American life for the most part will have an opportunity to rest, and that nerves racked and destroyed will find a Bethesda. I believe in watering-places. Let not the commercial firm begrudge the clerk, or the employer the journeyman, or the patient the physician, or the church its pastor, a season of inoccupation. Luther used to sport with his children; Edmund Burke used to caress his favorite horse; Thomas Chalmers, in the dark hours of the church's disruption, played kite for recreation--as I was told by his own daughter--and the busy Christ said to the busy apostles: "Come ye apart awhile into the desert and rest yourselves." And I have observed that they who do not know how to rest do not know how to work. But I have to declare this truth to-day, that some of our fashionable watering-places are the temporal and eternal destruction of "a multitude that no man can number," and amid the congratulations of this season and the prospect of the departure of many of you for the country I must utter a note of warning--plain, earnest, and unmistakable. I. The first temptation that is apt to hover in this direction is to leave your piety all at home. You will send the dog and cat and canary bird to be well cared for somewhere else; but the temptation will be to leave your religion in the room with the blinds down and the door bolted, and then you will come back in the autumn to find that it is starved and suffocated, lying stretched on the rug stark dead. There is no surplus of piety at the watering-places. I never knew any one to grow very rapidly in grace at the Catskill Mountain House, or Sharon Springs, or the Falls of Montmorency. It is generally the case that the Sabbath is more of a carousal than any other day, and there are Sunday walks and Sunday rides and Sunday excursions. Elders and deacons and ministers of religion who are entirely consistent at home, sometimes when the Sabbath dawns on them at Niagara Falls or the White Mountains take the day to themselves. If they go to the church, it is apt to be a sacred parade, and the discourse, instead of being a plain talk about the soul, is apt to be what is called _a crack sermon_--that is, some discourse picked out of the effusions of the year as the one most adapted to excite admiration; and in those churches, from the way the ladies hold their fans, you know that they are not so much impressed with the heat as with the picturesqueness of half-disclosed features. Four puny souls stand in the organ-loft and squall a tune that nobody knows, and worshipers, with two thousand dollars' worth of diamonds on the right hand, drop a cent into the poor-box, and then the benediction is pronounced and the farce is ended. The toughest thing I ever tried to do was to be good at a watering-place. The air is bewitched with "the world, the flesh, and the devil." There are Christians who in three or four weeks in such a place have had such terrible rents made in their Christian robe that they had to keep darning it until Christmas to get it mended! The health of a great many people makes an annual visit to some mineral spring an absolute necessity; but, my dear people, take your Bible along with you, and take an hour for secret prayer every day, though you be surrounded by guffaw and saturnalia. Keep holy the Sabbath, though they denounce you as a bigoted Puritan. Stand off from those institutions which propose to imitate on this side the water the iniquities of Baden-Baden. Let your moral and your immortal health keep pace with your physical recuperation, and remember that all the waters of Hathorne and sulphur and chalybeate springs can not do you so much good as the mineral, healing, perennial flood that breaks forth from the "Rock of Ages." This may be your last summer. If so, make it a fit vestibule of heaven. II. Another temptation around nearly all our watering-places is the horse-racing business. We all admire the horse. There needs to be a redistribution of coronets among the brute creation. For ages the lion has been called the king of beasts. I knock off its coronet and put the crown upon the horse, in every way nobler, whether in shape or spirit or sagacity or intelligence or affection or usefulness. He is semi-human, and knows how to reason on a small scale. The centaur of olden times, part horse and part man, seems to be a suggestion of the fact that the horse is something more than a beast. Job sets forth his strength, his beauty, his majesty, the panting of his nostril, the pawing of his hoof, and his enthusiasm for the battle. What Rosa Bonheur did for the cattle, and what Landseer did for the dog, Job, with mightier pencil, does for the horse. Eighty-eight times does the Bible speak of him. He comes into every kingly procession and into every great occasion and into every triumph. It is very evident that Job and David and Isaiah and Ezekiel and Jeremiah and John were fond of the horse. He came into much of their imagery. A red horse--that meant war; a black horse--that meant famine; a pale horse--that meant death; a white horse--that meant victory. As the Bible makes a favorite of the horse, the patriarch and the prophet and the evangelist and the apostle, stroking his sleek hide, and patting his rounded neck, and tenderly lifting his exquisitely formed hoof, and listening with a thrill to the champ of his bit, so all great natures in all ages have spoken of him in encomiastic terms. Virgil in his Georgics almost seems to plagiarize from the description of Job. The Duke of Wellington would not allow any one irreverently to touch his old war-horse, Copenhagen, on whom he had ridden fifteen hours without dismounting at Waterloo; and when old Copenhagen died, his master ordered a military salute fired over his grave. John Howard showed that he did not exhaust all his sympathies in pitying the human race, for when sick he writes home: "Has my old chaise-horse become sick or spoiled?" But we do not think that the speed of the horse should be cultured at the expense of human degradation. Horse-races, in olden times, were under the ban of Christian people, and in our day the same institution has come up under fictitious names, and it is called a "Summer Meeting," almost suggestive of positive religious exercises. And it is called an "Agricultural Fair," suggestive of everything that is improving in the art of farming. But under these deceptive titles are the same cheating and the same betting, the same drunkenness and the same vagabondage and the same abominations that were to be found under the old horse-racing system. I never knew a man yet who could give himself to the pleasures of the turf for a long reach of time, and not be battered in morals. They hook up their spanking team, and put on their sporting-cap, and light their cigar, and take the reins, and dash down the road to perdition. The great day at Saratoga, and Long Branch, and Cape May, and nearly all the other watering-places, is the day of the races. The hotels are thronged, nearly every kind of equipage is taken up at an almost fabulous price, and there are many respectable people mingling with jockeys, and gamblers, and libertines, and foul-mouthed men and flashy women. The bar-tender stirs up the brandy-smash. The bets run high. The greenhorns, supposing all is fair, put in their money soon enough to lose it. Three weeks before the race takes place the struggle is decided, and the men in the secret know on which steed to bet their money. The two men on the horses riding around long before arranged who shall beat. Leaning from the stand or from the carriage are men and women so absorbed in the struggle of bone and muscle and mettle that they make a grand harvest for the pickpockets, who carry off the pocket-books and portemonnaies. Men looking on see only two horses with two riders flying around the ring; but there is many a man on that stand whose honor and domestic happiness and fortune--white mane, white foot, white flank--are in the ring, racing with inebriety, and with fraud, and with profanity, and with ruin--black neck, black foot, black flank. Neck and neck they go in that moral Epsom. Ah, my friends, have nothing to do with horse-racing dissipations this summer. Long ago the English government got through looking to the turf for the dragoon and light-cavalry horse. They found the turf depreciates the stock, and it is yet worse for men. Thomas Hughes, the member of parliament and the author, known all the world over, hearing that a new turf enterprise was being started in this country, wrote a letter, in which he said: "Heaven help you, then; for of all the cankers of our old civilization there is nothing in this country approaching in unblushing meanness, in rascality holding its head high, to this belauded institution of the British turf." Another famous sportsman writes: "How many fine domains have been shared among these hosts of rapacious sharks during the last two hundred years; and unless the system be altered, how many more are doomed to fall into the same gulf!" The Duke of Hamilton, through his horse-racing proclivities, in three years got through his entire fortune of £70,000, and I will say that some of you are being undermined by it. With the bull-fights of Spain and the bear-baitings of the pit may the Lord God annihilate the infamous and accursed horse-racing of England and America. III. I go further, and speak of another temptation that hovers over the watering-places; and this is the temptation to sacrifice physical strength. The modern Bethesda was intended to recuperate the physical health; and yet how many come from the watering-places, their health absolutely destroyed! New York and Brooklyn idiots boasting of having imbibed twenty glasses of Congress water before breakfast. Families accustomed to going to bed at ten o'clock at night gossiping until one or two o'clock in the morning. Dyspeptics, usually very cautious about their health, mingling ice-creams, and lemons, and lobster-salads, and cocoa-nuts, until the gastric juices lift up all their voices of lamentation and protest. Delicate women and brainless young men chassezing themselves into vertigo and catalepsy. Thousands of men and women coming back from our watering-places in the autumn with the foundations laid for ailments that will last them all their life long. You know as well as I do that this is the simple truth. In the summer you say to your good health: "Good-bye, I am going to have a good time for a little while. I will be very glad to see you again in the autumn." Then in the autumn, when you are hard at work in your office, or store, or shop, or counting-room, Good Health will come and say: "Good-bye, I am going." You say: "Where are you going?" "Oh," says Good Health, "I am going to take a vacation!" It is a poor rule that will not work both ways, and your good health will leave you choleric and splenetic and exhausted. You coquetted with your good health in the summer-time, and your good health is coquetting with you in the winter-time. A fragment of Paul's charge to the jailer would be an appropriate inscription for the hotel-register in every watering-place: "Do thyself no harm." IV. Another temptation hovering around the watering-place is to the formation of hasty and life-long alliances. The watering-places are responsible for more of the domestic infelicities of this country than all the other things combined. Society is so artificial there that no sure judgment of character can be formed. Those who form companionships amid such circumstances go into a lottery where there are twenty blanks to one prize. In the severe tug of life you want more than glitter and splash. Life is not a ball-room where the music decides the step, and bow and prance and graceful swing of long trail can make up for strong common sense. You might as well go among the gayly painted yachts of a summer regatta to find war vessels as to go among the light spray of the summer watering-place to find character that can stand the test of the great struggle of human life. Ah, in the battle of life you want a stronger weapon than a lace fan or a croquet mallet! The load of life is so heavy that in order to draw it, you want a team stronger than one made up of a masculine grasshopper and a feminine butterfly. If there is any man in the community that excites my contempt, and that ought to excite the contempt of every man and woman, it is the soft-handed, soft-headed fop, who, perfumed until the air is actually sick, spends his summer in taking killing attitudes, and waving sentimental adieus, and talking infinitesimal nothings, and finding his heaven in the set of a lavender kid-glove. Boots as tight as an Inquisition, two hours of consummate skill exhibited in the tie of a flaming cravat, his conversation made up of "Ah's" and "Oh's" and "He-hee's." It would take five hundred of them stewed down to make a teaspoonful of calves-foot jelly. There is only one counterpart to such a man as that, and that is the frothy young woman at the watering-place, her conversation made up of French moonshine; what she has on her head only equaled by what she has on her back; useless ever since she was born, and to be useless until she is dead: and what they will do with her in the next world I do not know, except to set her upon the banks of the River Life for eternity to look sweet! God intends us to admire music and fair faces and graceful step, but amid the heartlessness and the inflation and the fantastic influences of our modern watering-places, beware how you make life-long covenants! V. Another temptation that will hover over the watering-place is that of baneful literature. Almost every one starting off for the summer takes some reading matter. It is a book out of the library or off the bookstand, or bought of the boy hawking books through the cars. I really believe there is more pestiferous trash read among the intelligent classes in July and August than in all the other ten months of the year. Men and women who at home would not be satisfied with a book that was not really sensible, I found sitting on hotel-piazzas or under the trees reading books the index of which would make them blush if they knew that you knew what the book was. "Oh," they say, "you must have intellectual recreation!" Yes. There is no need that you take along into a watering-place "Hamilton's Metaphysics" or some thunderous discourse on the eternal decrees, or "Faraday's Philosophy." There are many easy books that are good. You might as well say: "I propose now to give a little rest to my digestive organs; and, instead of eating heavy meat and vegetables, I will for a little while take lighter food--a little strychnine and a few grains of ratsbane." Literary poison in August is as bad as literary poison in December. Mark that. Do not let the frogs and the lice of a corrupt printing-press jump and crawl into your Saratoga trunk or White Mountain valise. Would it not be an awful thing for you to be struck with lightning some day when you had in your hand one of these paper-covered romances--the hero a Parisian _roué_, the heroine an unprincipled flirt--chapters in the book that you would not read to your children at the rate of $100 a line? Throw out all that stuff from your summer baggage. Are there not good books that are easy to read--books of entertaining travel, books of congenial history, books of pure fun, books of poetry ringing with merry canto, books of fine engravings, books that will rest the mind as well as purify the heart and elevate the whole life? My hearers, there will not be an hour between this and the day of your death when you can afford to read a book lacking in moral principle. VI. Another temptation hovering all around our watering-places is the intoxicating beverage. I am told that it is becoming more and more fashionable for woman to drink. I care not how well a woman may dress, if she has taken enough of wine to flush her cheek and put glassiness on her eyes, she is intoxicated. She may be handed into a $2500 carriage, and have diamonds enough to confound the Tiffanys--she is intoxicated. She may be a graduate of Packer Institute, and the daughter of some man in danger of being nominated for the Presidency--she is drunk. You may have a larger vocabulary than I have, and you may say in regard to her that she is "convivial," or she is "merry," or she is "festive," or she is "exhilarated," but you can not with all your garlands of verbiage cover up the plain fact that it is an old-fashioned case of drunk. Now, the watering-places are full of temptations to men and women to tipple. At the close of the tenpin or billiard-game they tipple. At the close of the cotillon they tipple. Seated on the piazza cooling themselves off they tipple. The tinged glasses come around with bright straws, and they tipple. First they take "light wines," as they call them; but "light wines" are heavy enough to debase the appetite. There is not a very long road between champagne at $5 a bottle and whiskey at five cents a glass. Satan has three or four grades down which he takes men to destruction. One man he takes up, and through one spree pitches him into eternal darkness. That is a rare case. Very seldom, indeed, can you find a man who will be such a fool as that. When a man goes down to destruction Satan brings him to a plane. It is almost a level. The depression is so slight that you can hardly see it. The man does not actually know that he is on the down grade, and it tips only a little toward darkness--just a little. And the first mile it is claret, and the second mile it is sherry, and the third mile it is punch, and the fourth mile it is ale, and the fifth mile it is porter, and the sixth mile it is brandy, and then it gets steeper and steeper and steeper, and the man gets frightened and says, "Oh, let me get off!" "No," says the conductor, "this is an express train, and it does not stop until it gets to the Grand Central Depot at Smashupton." Ah, "look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth its color in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder." And if any young man in my congregation should get astray this summer in this direction it will not be because I have not given him fair warning. My friends, whether you tarry at home--which will be quite as safe and perhaps quite as comfortable--or go into the country, arm yourself against temptation. The grace of God is the only safe shelter, whether in town or country. There are watering-places accessible to all of us. You can not open a book of the Bible without finding out some such watering-place. Fountains open for sin and uncleanliness; wells of salvation; streams from Lebanon; a flood struck out of the rock by Moses; fountains in the wilderness discovered by Hagar; water to drink and water to bathe in; the river of God, which is full of water; water of which if a man drink he shall never thirst; wells of water in the Valley of Baca; living fountains of water; a pure river of water as clear as crystal from under the throne of God. These are watering-places accessible to all of us. We do not have a laborious packing up before we start--only the throwing away of our transgressions. No expensive hotel bills to pay; it is "without money and without price." No long and dirty travel before we get there; it is only one step away. California in five minutes. I walked around and saw ten fountains, all bubbling up, and they were all different. And in five minutes I can get through this Bible _parterre_ and find you fifty bright, sparkling fountains bubbling up into eternal life. A chemist will go to one of these summer watering-places and take the water and analyze it and tell you that it contains so much of iron, and so much of soda, and so much of lime, and so much of magnesia. I come to this Gospel well, this living fountain and analyze the water, and I find that its ingredients are peace, pardon, forgiveness, hope, comfort, life, heaven. "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye" to this watering-place! Crowd around this Bethesda this morning! Oh, you sick, you lame, you troubled, you dying--crowd around this Bethesda! Step in it! Oh, step in it! The angel of the covenant this morning stirs the water. Why do you not step in it? Some of you are too weak to take a step in that direction. Then we take you up in the arms of our closing prayer and plunge you clean under the wave, hoping that the cure may be as sudden and as radical as with Captain Naaman, who, blotched and carbuncled, stepped into the Jordan, and after the seventh dive came up, his skin roseate-complexioned as the flesh of a little child. THE BANISHED QUEEN. "Also Vashti the queen made a feast for the women in the royal house which belonged to King Ahasuerus. On the seventh day when the heart of the king was merry with wine, he commanded Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Bigtha, and Abagtha, Zethar, and Carcas, the seven chamberlains that served in the presence of Ahasuerus the king, to bring Vashti the queen before the king with the crown royal, to show the people and the princes her beauty: for she was fair to look on. But the Queen Vashti refused to come at the king's commandment by his chamberlains; therefore was the king very wroth, and his anger burned in him."--ESTHER i: 9-12. We stand amid the palaces of Shushan. The pinnacles are aflame with the morning light. The columns rise festooned and wreathed, the wealth of empires flashing from the grooves; the ceilings adorned with images of bird and beast, and scenes of prowess and conquest. The walls are hung with shields, and emblazoned until it seems that the whole round of splendors is exhausted. Each arch is a mighty leaf of architectural achievement. Golden stars shining down on glowing arabesque. Hangings of embroidered work in which mingle the blueness of the sky, the greenness of the grass, and the whiteness of the sea-foam. Tapestries hung on silver rings, wedding together the pillars of marble. Pavilions reaching out in every direction. These for repose, filled with luxuriant couches, in which weary limbs sink until all fatigue is submerged. Those for carousal, where kings drink down a kingdom at one swallow. Amazing spectacle! Light of silver dripping down over stairs of ivory on shields of gold. Floors of stained marble, sunset red and night black, and inlaid with gleaming pearl. In connection with this palace there is a garden, where the mighty men of foreign lands are seated at a banquet. Under the spread of oak and linden and acacia the tables are arranged. The breath of honeysuckle and frankincense fills the air. Fountains leap up into the light, the spray struck through with rainbows falling in crystalline baptism upon flowering shrubs--then rolling down through channels of marble, and widening out here and there into pools swirling with the finny tribes of foreign aquariums, bordered with scarlet anemones, hypericums, and many-colored ranunculi. Meats of rarest bird and beast smoking up amid wreaths of aromatics. The vases filled with apricots and almonds. The baskets piled up with apricots and figs and oranges and pomegranates. Melons tastefully twined with leaves of acacia. The bright waters of Eulæus filling the urns and dropping outside the rim in flashing beads amid the traceries. Wine from the royal vats of Ispahan and Shiraz, in bottles of tinged shell, and lily-shaped cups of silver, and flagons and tankards of solid gold. The music rises higher, and the revelry breaks out into wilder transport, and the wine has flushed the cheek and touched the brain, and louder than all other voices are the hiccough of the inebriates, the gabble of fools, and the song of the drunkards. In another part of the palace, Queen Vashti is entertaining the princesses of Persia at a banquet. Drunken Ahasuerus says to his servants, "You go out and fetch Vashti from, that banquet with the women, and bring her to this banquet with the men, and let me display her beauty." The servants immediately start to obey the king's command; but there was a rule in Oriental society that no woman might appear in public without having her face veiled. Yet here was a mandate that no one dare dispute, demanding that Vashti come in unveiled before the multitude. However, there was in Vashti's soul a principle more regal than Ahasuerus, more brilliant than the gold of Shushan, of more wealth than the realm of Persia, which commanded her to disobey this order of the king; and so all the righteousness and holiness and modesty of her nature rise up into one sublime refusal. She says, "I will not go into the banquet unveiled." Ahasuerus was infuriate; and Vashti, robbed of her position and her estate, is driven forth in poverty and ruin to suffer the scorn of a nation, and yet to receive the applause of after generations, who shall rise up to admire this martyr to kingly insolence. Well, the last vestige of that feast is gone; the last garland has faded; the last arch has fallen; the last tankard has been destroyed; and Shushan is a ruin; but as long as the world stands there will be multitudes of men and women, familiar with the Bible, who will come into this picture-gallery of God and admire the divine portrait of Vashti the queen, Vashti the veiled, Vashti the sacrifice, Vashti the silent. I. In the first place, I want you to look upon Vashti the queen. A blue ribbon, rayed with white, drawn around her forehead, indicated her queenly position. It was no small honor to be queen in such a realm as that. Hark to the rustle of her robes! See the blaze of her jewels! And yet, my friends, it is not necessary to have place and regal robe in order to be queenly. When I see a woman with stout faith in God, putting her foot upon all meanness and selfishness and godless display, going right forward to serve Christ and the race by a grand and a glorious service, I say: "That woman is a queen," and the ranks of heaven look over the battlements upon the coronation; and whether she comes up from the shanty on the commons or the mansion of the fashionable square, I greet her with the shout, "All hail, Queen Vashti!" What glory was there on the brow of Mary of Scotland, or Elizabeth of England, or Margaret of France, or Catherine of Russia, compared with the worth of some of our Christian mothers, many of them gone into glory?--or of that woman mentioned in the Scriptures, who put her all into the Lord's treasury?--or of Jephtha's daughter, who made a demonstration of unselfish patriotism?--or of Abigail, who rescued the herds and flocks of her husband?--or of Ruth, who toiled under a tropical sun for poor, old, helpless Naomi?--or of Florence Nightingale, who went at midnight to stanch the battle wounds of the Crimea?--or of Mrs. Adoniram Judson, who kindled the lights of salvation amid the darkness of Burmah?--or of Mrs. Hemans, who poured out her holy soul in words which will forever be associated with hunter's horn, and captive's chain, and bridal hour, and lute's throb, and curfew's knell at the dying day?--and scores and hundreds of women, unknown on earth, who have given water to the thirsty, and bread to the hungry, and medicine to the sick, and smiles to the discouraged--their footsteps heard along dark lane and in government hospital, and in almshouse corridor, and by prison gate? There may be no royal robe--there may be no palatial surroundings. She does not need them; for all charitable men will unite with the crackling lips of fever-struck hospital and plague-blotched lazaretto in greeting her as she passes: "Hail! Hail! Queen Vashti!" II. Again, I want you to consider Vashti the veiled. Had she appeared before Ahasuerus and his court on that day with her face uncovered she would have shocked all the delicacies of Oriental society, and the very men who in their intoxication demanded that she come, in their sober moments would have despised her. As some flowers seem to thrive best in the dark lane and in the shadow, and where the sun does not seem to reach them, so God appoints to most womanly natures a retiring and unobtrusive spirit. God once in awhile does call an Isabella to a throne, or a Miriam to strike the timbrel at the front of a host, or a Marie Antoinette to quell a French mob, or a Deborah to stand at the front of an armed battalion, crying out, "Up! Up! This is the day in which the Lord will deliver Sisera into thy hands." And when the women are called to such out-door work and to such heroic positions, God prepares them for it; and they have iron in their soul, and lightnings in their eye, and whirlwinds in their breath, and the borrowed strength of the Lord Omnipotent in their right arm. They walk through furnaces as though they were hedges of wild-flowers, and cross seas as though they were shimmering sapphire; and all the harpies of hell down to their dungeon at the stamp of womanly indignation. But these are the exceptions. Generally, Dorcas would rather make a garment for the poor boy; Rebecca would rather fill the trough for the camels; Hannah would rather make a coat for Samuel; the Hebrew maid would rather give a prescription for Naaman's leprosy; the woman of Sarepta would rather gather a few sticks to cook a meal for famished Elijah; Phebe would rather carry a letter for the inspired apostle; Mother Lois would rather educate Timothy in the Scriptures. When I see a woman going about her daily duty, with cheerful dignity presiding at the table, with kind and gentle, but firm discipline presiding in the nursery, going out into the world without any blast of trumpets, following in the footsteps of Him who went about doing good--I say: "This is Vashti with a veil on." But when I see a woman of unblushing boldness, loud-voiced, with a tongue of infinite clitter-clatter, with arrogant look, passing through the streets with the step of a walking-beam, gayly arrayed in a very hurricane of millinery, I cry out: "Vashti has lost her veil!" When I see a woman struggling for political preferment--trying to force her way on up to the ballot-box, amid the masculine demagogues who stand, with swollen fists and bloodshot eyes and pestiferous breath, to guard the polls--wanting to go through the loaferism and the defilement of popular sovereigns, who crawl up from the saloons greasy and foul and vermin-covered, to decide questions of justice and order and civilization--when I see a woman, I say, who wants to press through all that horrible scum to get to the ballot-box, I say: "Ah, what a pity! Vashti has lost her veil!" When I see a woman of comely features, and of adroitness of intellect, and endowed with all that the schools can do for one, and of high social position, yet moving in society with superciliousness and _hauteur_, as though she would have people know their place, and with an undefined combination of giggle and strut and rhodomontade, endowed with allopathic quantities of talk, but only homeopathic infinitesimals of sense, the terror of dry-goods clerks and railroad conductors, discoverers of significant meanings in plain conversation, prodigies of badinage and innuendo--I say: "Vashti has lost her veil." III. Again, I want you this morning to consider Vashti the sacrifice. Who is this that I see coming out of that palace gate of Shushan? It seems to me that I have seen her before. She comes homeless, houseless, friendless, trudging along with a broken heart. Who is she? It is Vashti the sacrifice. Oh! what a change it was from regal position to a wayfarer's crust! A little while ago, approved and sought for; now, none so poor as to acknowledge her acquaintanceship. Vashti the sacrifice! Ah! you and I have seen it many a time. Here is a home empalaced with beauty. All that refinement and books and wealth can do for that home has been done; but Ahasuerus, the husband and the father, is taking hold on paths of sin. He is gradually going down. After awhile he will flounder and struggle like a wild beast in the hunter's net--further away from God, further away from the right. Soon the bright apparel of the children will turn to rags; soon the household song will become the sobbing of a broken heart. The old story over again. Brutal Centaurs breaking up the marriage feast of Lapithæ. The house full of outrage and cruelty and abomination, while trudging forth from the palace gate are Vashti and her children. There are homes represented in this house this morning that are in danger of such breaking-up. Oh, Ahasuerus! that you should stand in a home, by a dissipated life destroying the peace and comfort of that home. God forbid that your children should ever have to wring their hands, and have people point their finger at them as they pass down the street, and say, "There goes a drunkard's child." God forbid that the little feet should ever have to trudge the path of poverty and wretchedness! God forbid that any evil spirit born of the wine-cup or the brandy-glass should come forth and uproot that garden, and with a lasting, blistering, all-consuming curse, shut forever the palace gate against Vashti and the children. One night during the war I went to Hagerstown to look at the army, and I stood on a hill-top and looked down upon them. I saw the camp-fires all through the valleys and all over the hills. It was a weird spectacle, those camp-fires, and I stood and watched them; and the soldiers who were gathered around them were, no doubt, talking of their homes, and of the long march they had taken, and of the battles they were to fight; but after awhile I saw these camp-fires begin to lower; and they continued to lower, until they were all gone out, and the army slept. It was imposing when I saw the camp-fires; it was imposing in the darkness when I thought of that great host asleep. Well, God looks down from heaven, and He sees the fireside of Christendom and the loved ones gathered around these firesides. These are the camp-fires where we warm ourselves at the close of day, and talk over the battles of life we have fought and the battles that are yet to come. God grant that when at last these fires begin to go out, and continue to lower until finally they are extinguished, and the ashes of consumed hopes strew the hearth of the old homestead, it may be because we have "Gone to sleep that last long sleep, From which none ever wake to weep." Now we are an army on the march of life. Then we shall be an army bivouacked in the tent of the grave. IV. Once more: I want you to look at Vashti the silent. You do not hear any outcry from this woman as she goes forth from the palace gate. From the very dignity of her nature, you know there will be no vociferation. Sometimes in life it is necessary to make a retort; sometimes in life it is necessary to resist; but there are crises when the most triumphant thing to do is to keep silence. The philosopher, confident in his newly discovered principle, waited for the coming of more intelligent generations, willing that men should laugh at the lightning-rod and cotton-gin and steam-boat--waiting for long years through the scoffing of philosophical schools, in grand and magnificent silence. Galileo, condemned by mathematicians and monks and cardinals, caricatured everywhere, yet waiting and watching with his telescope to see the coming up of stellar reenforcements, when the stars in their courses would fight for the Copernican system; then sitting down in complete blindness and deafness to wait for the coming on of the generations who would build his monument and bow at his grave. The reformer, execrated by his contemporaries, fastened in a pillory, the slow fires of public contempt burning under him, ground under the cylinders of the printing-press, yet calmly waiting for the day when purity of soul and heroism of character will get the sanction of earth and the plaudits of heaven. Affliction enduring without any complaint the sharpness of the pang, and the violence of the storm, and the heft of the chain, and the darkness of the night--waiting until a Divine hand shall be put forth to soothe the pang, and hush the storm, and release the captive. A wife abused, persecuted, and a perpetual exile from every earthly comfort--waiting, waiting, until the Lord shall gather up His dear children in a heavenly home, and no poor Vashti will ever be thrust out from the palace gate. Jesus, in silence and answering not a word, drinking the gall, bearing the cross, in prospect of the rapturous consummation when "Angels thronged their chariot wheel, And bore Him to His throne, Then swept their golden harps and sung, 'The glorious work is done!'" Oh, woman! does not this story of Vashti the queen, Vashti the veiled, Vashti the sacrifice, Vashti the silent, move your soul? My sermon converges into the one absorbing hope that none of you may be shut out of the palace gate of heaven. You can endure the hardships, and the privations, and the cruelties, and the misfortunes of this life if you can only gain admission there. Through the blood of the everlasting covenant you go through those gates, or never go at all. God forbid that you should at last be banished from the society of angels, and banished from the companionship of your glorified kindred, and banished forever. Through the rich grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, may you be enabled to imitate the example of Rachel, and Hannah, and Abigail, and Deborah, and Mary, and Esther, and Vashti. THE DAY WE LIVE IN. "Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?"--ESTHER iv. 14. Esther the beautiful was the wife of Ahasuerus the abominable. The time had come for her to present a petition to her infamous husband in behalf of the Jewish nation, to which she had once belonged. She was afraid to undertake the work, lest she should lose her own life; but her uncle, Mordecai, who had brought her up, encouraged her with the suggestion that probably she had been raised up of God for that peculiar mission. "Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" Esther had her God-appointed work; you and I have ours. It is my business to tell you what style of men and women you ought to be in order that you meet the demand of the age in which God has cast your lot. If you have come expecting to hear abstractions discussed, or dry technicalities of religion glorified, you have come to the wrong church; but if you really would like to know what this age has a right to expect of you as Christian men and women, then I am ready in the Lord's name to look you in the face. When two armies have rushed into battle the officers of either army do not want a philosophical discussion about the chemical properties of human blood or the nature of gunpowder; they want some one to man the batteries and swab out the guns. And now, when all the forces of light and darkness, of heaven and hell, have plunged into the fight, it is no time to give ourselves to the definitions and formulas and technicalities and conventionalities of religion. What we want is practical, earnest, concentrated, enthusiastic, and triumphant help. I. In the first place, in order to meet the special demand of this age, you need to be an unmistakably aggressive Christian. Of half-and-half Christians we do not want any more. The Church of Jesus Christ will be better without ten thousand of them. They are the chief obstacle to the Church's advancement. I am speaking of another kind of Christian. All the appliances for your becoming an earnest Christian are at your hand, and there is a straight path for you into the broad daylight of God's forgiveness. You may have come into this Tabernacle the bondsmen of the world, and yet before you go out of these doors you may become princes of the Lord God Almighty. You remember what excitement there was in this country, years ago, when the Prince of Wales came here--how the people rushed out by hundreds of thousands to see him. Why? Because they expected that some day he would sit upon the throne of England. But what was all that honor compared with the honor to which God calls you--to be sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty; yea, to be queens and kings unto God? "They shall reign with Him forever and forever." But, my friends, you need to be aggressive Christians, and not like those persons who spend their lives in hugging their Christian graces and wondering why they do not make any progress. How much robustness of health would a man have if he hid himself in a dark closet? A great deal of the piety of the day is too exclusive. It hides itself. It needs more fresh air, more out-door exercise. There are many Christians who are giving their entire life to self-examination. They are feeling their pulses to see what is the condition of their spiritual health. How long would a man have robust physical health if he kept all the days and weeks and months and years of his life feeling his pulse instead of going out into active, earnest, every-day work? I was once amid the wonderful, bewitching cactus growths of North Carolina. I never was more bewildered with the beauty of flowers, and yet when I would take up one of these cactuses and pull the leaves apart, the beauty was all gone. You could hardly tell that it had ever been a flower. And there are a great many Christian people in this day just pulling apart their Christian experiences to see what there is in them, and there is nothing left in them. This style of self-examination is a damage instead of an advantage to their Christian character. I remember when I was a boy I used to have a small piece in the garden that I called my own, and I planted corn there, and every few days I would pull it up to see how fast it was growing. Now, there are a great many Christian people in this day whose self-examination merely amounts to the pulling up of that which they only yesterday or the day before planted. O my friends! if you want to have a stalwart Christian character, plant it right out of doors in the great field of Christian usefulness, and though storms may come upon it, and though the hot sun of trial may try to consume it, it will thrive until it becomes a great tree, in which the fowls of heaven may have their habitation. I have no patience with these flower-pot Christians. They keep themselves under shelter, and all their Christian experience in a small, exclusive circle, when they ought to plant it in the great garden of the Lord, so that the whole atmosphere could be aromatic with their Christian usefulness. What we want in the Church of God is more brawn of piety. The century plant is wonderfully suggestive and wonderfully beautiful, but I never look at it without thinking of its parsimony. It lets whole generations go by before it puts forth one blossom; so I have really more heartfelt admiration when I see the dewy tears in the blue eyes of the violets, for they come every spring. My Christian friends, time is going by so rapidly that we can not afford to be idle. A recent statistician says that human life now has an average of only thirty-two years. From these thirty-two years you must subtract all the time you take for sleep and the taking of food and recreation; that will leave you about sixteen years. From those sixteen years you must subtract all the time that you are necessarily engaged in the earning of a livelihood; that will leave you about eight years. From those eight years you must take all the days and weeks and months--all the length of time that is passed in childhood and sickness, leaving you about one year in which to work for God. Oh, my soul, wake up! How darest thou sleep in harvest-time and with so few hours in which to reap? So that I state it as a simple fact that all the time that the vast majority of you will have for the exclusive service of God will be less than one year! "But," says some man, "I liberally support the Gospel, and the church is open and the Gospel is preached: all the spiritual advantages are spread before men, and if they want to be saved, let them come to be saved; I have discharged all my responsibility." Ah! is that the Master's spirit? Is there not an old Book somewhere that commands us to go out into the highways and the hedges and compel the people to come in? What would have become of you and me if Christ had not come down off the hills of heaven, and if He had not come through the door of the Bethlehem caravansary, and if He had not with the crushed hand of the crucifixion knocked at the iron gate of the sepulcher of our spiritual death, crying, "Lazarus, come forth"? Oh, my Christian friends, this is no time for inertia, when all the forces of darkness seem to be in full blast; when steam printing-presses are publishing infidel tracts; when express railroad trains are carrying messengers of sin; when fast clippers are laden with opium and rum; when the night-air of our cities is polluted with the laughter that breaks up from the ten thousand saloons of dissipation and abandonment; when the fires of the second death already are kindled in the cheeks of some who, only a little while ago, were incorrupt. Oh, never since the curse fell upon the earth has there been a time when it was such an unwise, such a cruel, such an awful thing for the Church to sleep! The great audiences are not gathered in the Christian churches; the great audiences are gathered in temples of sin--tears of unutterable woe their baptism, the blood of crushed hearts the awful wine of their sacrament, blasphemies their litany, and the groans of the lost world the organ dirge of their worship. II. Again, if you want to be qualified to meet the duties which this age demands of you, you must on the one hand avoid reckless iconoclasm, and on the other hand not stick too much to things because they are old. The air is full of new plans, new projects, new theories of government, new theologies, and I am amazed to see how so many Christians want only novelty in order to recommend a thing to their confidence; and so they vacillate and swing to and fro, and they are useless, and they are unhappy. New plans--secular, ethical, philosophical, religious, cisatlantic, transatlantic--long enough to make a line reaching from the German universities to Great Salt Lake City. Ah, my brother, do not take hold of a thing merely because it is new. Try it by the realities of a Judgment Day. But, on the other hand, do not adhere to any thing merely because it is old. There is not a single enterprise of the Church or the world but has sometimes been scoffed at. There was a time when men derided even Bible societies; and when a few young men met near a hay-stack in Massachusetts and organized the first missionary society ever organized in this country, there went laughter and ridicule all around the Christian Church. They said the undertaking was preposterous. And so also the work of Jesus Christ was assailed. People cried out, "Who ever heard of such theories of ethics and government? Who ever noticed such a style of preaching as Jesus has?" Ezekiel had talked of mysterious wings and wheels. Here came a man from Capernaum and Gennesaret, and he drew his illustration from the lakes, from the sand, from the ravine, from the lilies, from the corn-stalks. How the Pharisees scoffed! How Herod derided! How Caiaphas hissed! And this Jesus they plucked by the beard, and they spat in his face, and they called him "this fellow!" All the great enterprises in and out of the Church have at times been scoffed at, and there have been a great multitude who have thought that the chariot of God's truth would fall to pieces if it once got out of the old rut. And so there are those who have no patience with anything like improvement in church architecture, or with anything like good, hearty, earnest church singing, and they deride any form of religious discussion which goes down walking among every-day men rather than that which makes an excursion on rhetorical stilts. Oh, that the Church of God would wake up to an adaptability of work! We must admit the simple fact that the churches of Jesus Christ in this day do not reach the great masses. There are fifty thousand people in Edinburgh who never hear the Gospel. There are one million people in London who never hear the Gospel. There are at least three hundred thousand souls in the city of Brooklyn who come not under the immediate ministrations of Christ's truth; and the Church of God in this day, instead of being a place full of living epistles, read and known of all men, is more like a "dead-letter" post-office. "But," say the people, "the world is going to be converted; you must be patient; the kingdoms of this world are to become the kingdoms of Christ," Never, unless the Church of Jesus Christ puts on more speed and energy. Instead of the Church converting the world, the world is converting the Church. Here is a great fortress. How shall it be taken? An army comes and sits around about it, cuts off the supplies, and says: "Now we will just wait until from exhaustion and starvation they will have to give up." Weeks and months, and perhaps a year, pass along, and finally the fortress surrenders through that starvation and exhaustion. But, my friends, the fortresses of sin are never to be taken in that way. If they are taken for God it will be by storm; you will have to bring up the great siege guns of the Gospel to the very wall and wheel the flying artillery into line, and when the armed infantry of heaven shall confront the battlements you will have to give the quick command, "Forward! Charge!" Ah, my friends, there is work for you to do and for me to do in order to this grand accomplishment! Here is my pulpit, and I preach in it. Your pulpit is the bank. Your pulpit is the store. Your pulpit is the editorial chair. Your pulpit is the anvil. Your pulpit is the house scaffolding. Your pulpit is the mechanic's shop. I may stand in this place and, through cowardice or through self-seeking, may keep back the word I ought to utter; while you, with sleeve rolled up and brow besweated with toil, may utter the word that will jar the foundations of heaven with the shout of a great victory. Oh, that this morning this whole audience might feel that the Lord Almighty was putting upon them the hands of ordination. I tell you, every one, go forth and preach this gospel. You have as much right to preach as I have, or as any man has. Only find out the pulpit where God will have you preach, and there preach. Hedley Vicars was a wicked man in the English army. The grace of God came to him. He became an earnest and eminent Christian. They scoffed at him, and said: "You are a hypocrite; you are as bad as ever you were." Still he kept his faith in Christ, and after awhile, finding that they could not turn him aside by calling him a hypocrite, they said to him: "Oh, you are nothing but a Methodist." That did not disturb him. He went on performing his Christian duty until he had formed all his troop into a Bible-class, and the whole encampment was shaken with the presence of God. So Havelock went into the heathen temple in India while the English army was there, and put a candle into the hand of each of the heathen gods that stood around in the heathen temple, and by the light of those candles, held up by the idols, General Havelock preached righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come. And who will say, on earth or in Heaven, that Havelock had not the right to preach? In the minister's house where I prepared for college, there was a man who worked, by the name of Peter Croy. He could neither read nor write, but he was a man of God. Often theologians would stop in the house--grave theologians--and at family prayers Peter Croy would be called upon to lead; and all those wise men sat around, wonder-struck at his religious efficiency. When he prayed he reached up and seemed to take hold of the very throne of the Almighty, and he talked with God until the very heavens were bowed down into the sitting-room. Oh, if I were dying I would rather have plain Peter Croy kneel by my bedside and commend my immortal spirit to God than the greatest archbishop, arrayed in costly canonicals. Go preach this Gospel. You say you are not licensed. In the name of the Lord Almighty, this morning, I license you. Go preach this Gospel--preach it in the Sabbath-schools, in the prayer-meetings, in the highways, in the hedges. Woe be unto you if you preach it not. III. I remark, again, that in order to be qualified to meet your duty in this particular age you want unbounded faith in the triumph of the truth and the overthrow of wickedness. How dare the Christian Church ever get discouraged? Have we not the Lord Almighty on our side? How long did it take God to slay the hosts of Sennacherib or burn Sodom or shake down Jericho? How long will it take God, when He once arises in His strength, to overthrow all the forces of iniquity? Between this time and that there may be long seasons of darkness--the chariot-wheels of God's Gospel may seem to drag heavily; but here is the promise, and yonder is the throne; and when Omniscience has lost its eyesight, and Omnipotence falls back impotent, and Jehovah is driven from His throne, then the Church of Jesus Christ can afford to be despondent, but never until then. Despots may plan and armies may march, and the congresses of the nations may seem to think they are adjusting all the affairs of the world, but the mighty men of the earth are only the dust of the chariot-wheels of God's providence. I think that before the sun of this century shall set the last tyranny will fall, and with a splendor of demonstration that shall be the astonishment of the universe God will set forth the brightness and pomp and glory and perpetuity of His eternal government. Out of the starry flags and the emblazoned insignia of this world God will make a path for His own triumph, and, returning from universal conquest, He will sit down, the grandest, strongest, highest throne of earth His footstool. "Then shall all nations' song ascend To Thee, our Ruler, Father, Friend, Till heaven's high arch resounds again With 'Peace on earth, good will to men.'" I preach this sermon because I want to encourage all Christian workers in every possible department. Hosts of the living God, march on! march on! His Spirit will bless you. His shield will defend you. His sword will strike for you. March on! march on! The despotism will fall, and paganism will burn its idols, and Mohammedanism will give up its false prophet, and Judaism will confess the true Messiah, and the great walls of superstition will come down in thunder and wreck at the long, loud blast of the Gospel trumpet. March on! march on! The besiegement will soon be ended. Only a few more steps on the long way; only a few more sturdy blows; only a few more battle cries, then God will put the laurel upon your brow, and from the living fountains of heaven will bathe off the sweat and the heat and the dust of the conflict. March on! march on! For you the time for work will soon be passed, and amid the outflashings of the judgment throne, and the trumpeting of resurrection angels, and the upheaving of a world of graves, and the hosanna and the groaning of the saved and the lost, we shall be rewarded for our faithfulness or punished for our stupidity. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel from everlasting to everlasting, and let the whole earth be filled with His glory. Amen and Amen. CAPITAL AND LABOR. "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them."--MATT. vii: 12. The greatest war the world has ever seen is between capital and labor. The strife is not like that which in history is called the Thirty Years' War, for it is a war of centuries, it is a war of the five continents, it is a war hemispheric. The middle classes in this country, upon whom the nation has depended for holding the balance of power and for acting as mediators between the two extremes, are diminishing; and if things go on at the same ratio as they are now going, it will not be very long before there will be no middle class in this country, but all will be very rich or very poor, princes or paupers, and the country will be given up to palaces and hovels. The antagonistic forces are closing in upon each other. The telegraphic operators' strikes, the railroad employés' strikes, the Pennsylvania miners' strikes, the movements of the Boycotters and the dynamiters are only skirmishes before a general engagement, or, if you prefer it, escapes through the safety-valves of an imprisoned force which promises the explosion of society. You may pooh-pooh it; you may say that this trouble, like an angry child, will cry itself to sleep; you may belittle it by calling it Fourierism, or Socialism, or St. Simonism, or Nihilism, or Communism; but that will not hinder the fact that it is the mightiest, the darkest, the most terrific threat of this century. All attempts at pacification have been dead failures, and monopoly is more arrogant, and the trades unions more bitter. "Give us more wages," cry the employés. "You shall have less," say the capitalists. "Compel us to do fewer hours of toil in a day." "You shall toil more hours," say the others. "Then, under certain conditions, we will not work at all," say these. "Then you shall starve," say those, and the workmen gradually using up that which they accumulated in better times, unless there be some radical change, we shall have soon in this country three million hungry men and women. Now, three million hungry people can not be kept quiet. All the enactments of legislatures and all the constabularies of the cities, and all the army and navy of the United States can not keep three million hungry people quiet. What then? Will this war between capital and labor be settled by human wisdom? Never. The brow of the one becomes more rigid, the fist of the other more clinched. But that which human wisdom can not achieve will be accomplished by Christianity if it be given full sway. You have heard of medicines so powerful that one drop would stop a disease and restore a patient; and I have to tell you that one drop of my text properly administered will stop all those woes of society and give convalescence and complete health to all classes. "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." I shall first show you this morning how this quarrel between monopoly and hard work can not be stopped, and then I will show you how this controversy will be settled. Futile remedies. In the first place, there will come no pacification to this trouble through an outcry against rich men merely because they are rich. There is no member of a trades-union on earth that would not be rich if he could be. Sometimes through a fortunate invention, or through some accident of prosperity, a man who had nothing comes to large estate, and we see him arrogant and supercilious, and taking people by the throat just as other people took him by the throat. There is something very mean about human nature when it comes to the top. But it is no more a sin to be rich than it is a sin to be poor. There are those who have gathered a great estate through fraud, and then there are millionaires who have gathered their fortune through foresight in regard to changes in the markets, and through brilliant business faculty, and every dollar of their estate is as honest as the dollar which the plumber gets for mending a pipe, or the mason gets for building a wall. There are those who keep in poverty because of their own fault. They might have been well-off, but they smoked or chewed up their earnings, or they lived beyond their means, while others on the same wages and on the same salaries went on to competency. I know a man who is all the time complaining of his poverty and crying out against rich men, while he himself keeps two dogs, and chews and smokes, and is filled to the chin with whisky and beer! Micawber said to David Copperfield: "Copperfield, my boy, one pound income, twenty shillings and sixpence expenses: result misery. But, Copperfield, my boy, one pound income, expenses nineteen shillings and sixpence; result, happiness." And there are vast multitudes of people who are kept poor because they are the victims of their own improvidence. It is no sin to be rich, and it is no sin to be poor. I protest against this outcry which I hear against those who, through economy and self-denial and assiduity, have come to large fortune. This bombardment of commercial success will never stop this quarrel between capital and labor. Neither will the contest be settled by cynical and unsympathetic treatment of the laboring classes. There are those who speak of them as though they were only cattle or draught horses. Their nerves are nothing, their domestic comfort is nothing, their happiness is nothing. They have no more sympathy for them than a hound has for a hare, or a hawk for a hen, or a tiger for a calf. When Jean Valjean, the greatest hero of Victor Hugo's writings, after a life of suffering and brave endurance, goes into incarceration and death, they clap the book shut and say, "Good for him!" They stamp their feet with indignation and say just the opposite of "Save the working-classes." They have all their sympathies with Shylock, and not with Antonio and Portia. They are plutocrats, and their feelings are infernal. They are filled with irritation and irascibility on this subject. To stop this awful imbroglio between capital and labor they will lift not so much as the tip end of the little finger. Neither will there be any pacification of this angry controversy through violence. God never blessed murder. The poorest use you can put a man to is to kill him. Blow up to-morrow all the country-seats on the banks of the Hudson, and all the fine houses on Madison Square, and Brooklyn Heights, and Bunker Hill, and Rittenhouse Square, and Beacon Street, and all the bricks and timber and stone will just fall back on the bare head of American labor. The worst enemies of the working-classes in the United States and Ireland are their demented coadjutors. Assassination--the assassination of Lord Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke in Phoenix Park, Dublin, Ireland, in the attempt to avenge the wrongs of Ireland, only turned away from that afflicted people millions of sympathizers. The recent attempt to blow up the House of Commons, in London, had only this effect: to throw out of employment tens of thousands of innocent Irish people in England. In this country the torch put to the factories that have discharged hands for good or bad reason; obstructions on the rail-track in front of midnight express trains because the offenders do not like the president of the company; strikes on shipboard the hour they were going to sail, or in printing-offices the hour the paper was to go to press, or in mines the day the coal was to be delivered, or on house scaffoldings so the builder fails in keeping his contract--all these are only a hard blow on the head of American labor, and cripple its arms, and lame its feet, and pierce its heart. Take the last great strike in America--the telegraph operators' strike--and you have to find that the operators lost four hundred thousand dollars' worth of wages, and have had poorer wages ever since. Traps sprung suddenly upon employers, and violence, never took one knot out of the knuckle of toil, or put one farthing of wages into a callous palm. Barbarism will never cure the wrongs of civilization. Mark that! Frederick the Great admired some land near his palace at Potsdam, and he resolved to get it. It was owned by a miller. He offered the miller three times the value of the property. The miller would not take it, because it was the old homestead, and he felt about as Naboth felt about his vineyard when Ahab wanted it. Frederick the Great was a rough and terrible man, and he ordered the miller into his presence; and the king, with a stick, in his hand--a stick with which he sometimes struck his officers of state--said to this miller: "Now, I have offered you three times the value of that property, and if you won't sell it I'll take it anyhow." The miller said, "Your majesty, you won't." "Yes," said the king, "I will take it." "Then," said the miller, "if your majesty does take it, I will sue you in the Chancery Court." At that threat Frederick the Great yielded his infamous demand. And the most imperious outrage against the working-classes will yet cower before the law. Violence and contrary to the law will never accomplish anything, but righteousness and according to law will accomplish it. Well, if this controversy between Capital and Labor can not be settled by human wisdom, if to-day Capital and Labor stand with their thumbs on each other's throat--as they do--it is time for us to look somewhere else for relief, and it points from my text roseate and jubilant, and puts one hand on the broadcloth shoulder of Capital, and puts the other hand on the homespun-covered shoulder of Toil, and says, with a voice that will grandly and gloriously settle this, and settle everything, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." That is, the lady of the household will say: "I must treat the maid in the kitchen just as I would like to be treated if I were down-stairs, and it were my work to wash, and cook, and sweep, and it were the duty of the maid in the kitchen to preside in this parlor." The maid in the kitchen must say: "If my employer seems to be more prosperous than I, that is no fault of hers; I shall not treat her as an enemy. I will have the same industry and fidelity down-stairs as I would expect from my subordinates, if I happened to be the wife of a silk importer." The owner of an iron mill, having taken a dose of my text before leaving home in the morning, will go into his foundry, and, passing into what is called the puddling-room, he will see a man there stripped to the waist, and besweated and exhausted with the labor and the toil, and he will say to him: "Why, it seems to be very hot in here. You look very much exhausted. I hear your child is sick with scarlet fever. If you want your wages a little earlier this week, so as to pay the nurse and get the medicines, just come into my office any time." After awhile, crash goes the money market, and there is no more demand for the articles manufactured in that iron mill, and the owner does not know what to do. He says, "Shall I stop the mill, or shall I run it on half time, or shall I cut down the men's wages?" He walks the floor of his counting-room all day, hardly knowing what to do. Toward evening he calls all the laborers together. They stand all around, some with arms akimbo, some with folded arms, wondering what the boss is going to do now. The manufacturer says: "Men, times are very hard; I don't make twenty dollars where I used to make one hundred. Somehow, there is no demand now for what we manufacture, or but very little demand. You see I am at vast expense, and I have called you together this afternoon to see what you would advise. I don't want to shut up the mill, because that would force you out of work, and you have always been very faithful, and I like you, and you seem to like me, and the bairns must be looked after, and your wife will after awhile want a new dress. I don't know what to do." There is a dead halt for a minute or two, and then one of the workmen steps out from the ranks of his fellows, and says: "Boss, you have been very good to us, and when you prospered we prospered, and now you are in a tight place and I am sorry, and we have got to sympathize with you. I don't know how the others feel, but I propose that we take off twenty per cent. from our wages, and that when the times get good you will remember us and raise them again." The workman looks around to his comrades, and says: "Boys, what do you say to this? all in favor of my proposition will say ay." "Ay! ay! ay!" shout two hundred voices. But the mill-owner, getting in some new machinery, exposes himself very much, and takes cold, and it settles into pneumonia, and he dies. In the procession to the tomb are all the workmen, tears rolling down their cheeks, and off upon the ground; but an hour before the procession gets to the cemetery the wives and the children of those workmen are at the grave waiting for the arrival of the funeral pageant. The minister of religion may have delivered an eloquent eulogium before they started from the house, but the most impressive things are said that day by the working-classes standing around the tomb. That night in all the cabins of the working-people where they have family prayers the widowhood and the orphanage in the mansion are remembered. No glaring populations look over the iron fence of the cemetery; but, hovering over the scene, the benediction of God and man is coming for the fulfillment of the Christlike injunction, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." "Oh," says some man here, "that is all Utopian, that is apocryphal, that is impossible." No. Yesterday, I cut out of a paper this: "One of the pleasantest incidents recorded in a long time is reported from Sheffield, England. The wages of the men in the iron works at Sheffield are regulated by a board of arbitration, by whose decision both masters and men are bound. For some time past the iron and steel trade has been extremely unprofitable, and the employers can not, without much loss, pay the wages fixed by the board, which neither employers nor employed have the power to change. To avoid this difficulty, the workmen in one of the largest steel works in Sheffield hit upon a device as rare as it was generous. They offered to work for their employers one week without any pay whatever. How much better that plan is than a strike would be." But you go with me and I will show you--not so far off as Sheffield, England--factories, banking-houses, storehouses, and costly enterprises where this Christ-like injunction of my text is fully kept, and you could no more get the employer to practice an injustice upon his men, or the men to conspire against the employer, than you could get your right hand and your left hand, your right eye and your left eye, your right ear and your left ear, into physiological antagonism. Now, where is this to begin? In our homes, in our stores, on our farms--not waiting for other people to do their duty. Is there a divergence now between the parlor and the kitchen? Then there is something wrong, either in the parlor or the kitchen, perhaps in both. Are the clerks in your store irate against the firm? Then there is something wrong, either behind the counter, or in the private office, or perhaps in both. The great want of the world to-day is the fulfillment of this Christ-like injunction, that which He promulgated in His sermon Olivetic. All the political economists under the arch or vault of the heavens in convention for a thousand years can not settle this controversy between monopoly and hard work, between capital and labor. During the Revolutionary War there was a heavy piece of timber to be lifted, perhaps for some fortress, and a corporal was overseeing the work, and he was giving commands to some soldiers as they lifted: "Heave away, there! yo heave!" Well, the timber was too heavy; they could not get it up. There was a gentleman riding by on a horse, and he stopped and said to this corporal, "Why don't you help them lift? That timber is too heavy for them to lift." "No," he said, "I won't; I am a corporal." The gentleman got off his horse and came up to the place. "Now," he said to the soldiers, "all together--yo heave!" and the timber went to its place. "Now," said the gentleman to the corporal, "when you have a piece of timber too heavy for the men to lift, and you want help, you send to your commander-in-chief." It was Washington. Now, that is about all the Gospel I know--the Gospel of giving somebody a lift, a lift out of darkness, a lift out of earth into heaven. That is all the Gospel I know--the Gospel of helping somebody else to lift. "Oh," says some wiseacre, "talk as you will, the law of demand and supply will regulate these things until the end of time." No, they will not, unless God dies and the batteries of the Judgment Day are spiked, and Pluto and Proserpine, king and queen of the infernal regions, take full possession of this world. Do you know who Supply and Demand are? They have gone into partnership, and they propose to swindle this earth and are swindling it. You are drowning. Supply and Demand stand on the shore, one on one side, the other on the other side, of the life-boat, and they cry out to you, "Now, you pay us what we ask you for getting you to shore, or go to the bottom!" If you can borrow $5000 you can keep from failing in business. Supply and Demand say, "Now, you pay us exorbitant usury, or you go into bankruptcy." This robber firm of Supply and Demand say to you: "The crops are short. We bought up all the wheat and it is in our bin. Now, you pay our price or starve." That is your magnificent law of supply and demand. Supply and Demand own the largest mill on earth, and all the rivers roll over their wheel, and into their hopper they put all the men, women, and children they can shovel out of the centuries, and the blood and the bones redden the valley while the mill grinds. That diabolic law of supply and demand will yet have to stand aside, and instead thereof will come the law of love, the law of cooperation, the law of kindness, the law of sympathy, the law of Christ. Have you no idea of the coming of such a time? Then you do not believe the Bible. All the Bible is full of promises on this subject, and as the ages roll on the time will come when men or fortune will be giving larger sums to humanitarian and evangelistic purposes, and there will be more James Lenoxes and Peter Coopers and William E. Dodges and George Peabodys. As that time comes there will be more parks, more picture-galleries, more gardens thrown open for the holiday people and the working-classes. I was reading only this morning in regard to a charge that had been made in England against Lambeth Palace, that it was exclusive; and that charge demonstrated the sublime fact that to the grounds of that wealthy estate eight hundred poor families have free passes, and forty croquet companies, and on the hall-day holidays four thousand poor people recline on the grass, walk through the paths, and sit under the trees. That is Gospel--Gospel on the wing, Gospel out-of-doors worth just as much as in-doors. That time is going to come. That is only a hint of what is going to be. The time is going to come when, if you have anything in your house worth looking at--pictures, pieces of sculpture--you are going to invite me to come and see it, you are going to invite my friends to come and see it, and you will say, "See what I have been blessed with. God has given me this, and so far as enjoying it, it is yours also." That is Gospel. In crossing the Alleghany Mountains, many years ago, the stage halted, and Henry Clay dismounted from the stage, and went out on a rock at the very verge of the cliff, and he stood there with his cloak wrapped about him, and he seemed to be listening for something. Some one said to him, "What are you listening for?" Standing there, on the top of the mountain, he said: "I am listening to the tramp of the footsteps of the coming millions of this continent." A sublime posture for an American statesman! You and I to-day stand on the mountain-top of privilege, and on the Rock of Ages, and we look off, and we hear coming from the future the happy industries, and smiling populations, and the consecrated fortunes, and the innumerable prosperities of the closing nineteenth and the opening twentieth century. While I speak this morning, there lies in state the dead author and patriot of France, Victor Hugo. The ten thousand dollars in his will he has given to the poor of the city are only a hint of the work he has done for all nations and for all times. I wonder not that they allow eleven days to pass between his death and his burial, his body meantime kept under triumphal arch, for the world can hardly afford to let go this man who for more than eight decades has by his unparalleled genius blessed it. His name shall be a terror to all despots, and an encouragement to all the struggling. He has made the world's burden lighter, and its darkness less dense, and its chain less galling, and its thrones of iniquity less secure. Farewell, patriot, genius of the century, Victor Hugo! But he was not the overtowering friend of mankind. The greatest friend of capitalist and toiler, and the one who will yet bring them together in complete accord, was born one Christmas night while the curtains of heaven swung, stirred by the wings angelic. Owner of all things--all the continents, all worlds, and all the islands of light. Capitalist of immensity, crossing over to our condition. Coming into our world, not by gate of palace, but by door of barn. Spending His first night amid the shepherds. Gathering after around Him the fishermen to be His chief attendants. With adze, and saw, and chisel, and ax, and in a carpenter-shop showing himself brother with the tradesmen. Owner of all things, and yet on a hillock back of Jerusalem one day resigning everything for others, keeping not so much as a shekel to pay for His obsequies, by charity buried in the suburbs of a city that had cast Him out. Before the cross of such a capitalist, and such a carpenter, all men can afford to shake hands and worship. Here is the every man's Christ. None so high, but He was higher. None so poor, but He was poorer. At His feet the hostile extremes will yet renounce their animosities, and countenances which have glowered with the prejudices and revenge of centuries shall brighten with the smile of heaven as He commands: "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." DESPOTISM OF THE NEEDLE. "So I returned, and considered all the oppressions that are done under the sun: and behold the tears of such as were oppressed, and they had no comforter; and on the side of their oppressors there was power; but they had no comforter."--ECCLES. iv: 1. Very long ago the needle was busy. It was considered honorable for women to toil in olden time. Alexander the Great stood in his palace showing garments made by his own mother. The finest tapestries at Bayeux were made by the queen of William the Conqueror. Augustus, the Emperor, would not wear any garments except those that were fashioned by some member of his royal family. So let the toiler everywhere be respected! The needle has slain more than the sword. When the sewing-machine was invented some thought that invention would alleviate woman's toil and put an end to the despotism of the needle. But no; while the sewing-machine has been a great blessing to well-to-do families in many cases, it has added to the stab of the needle the crush of the wheel; and multitudes of women, notwithstanding the re-enforcement of the sewing-machines, can only make, work hard as they will, between two dollars and three dollars per week. The greatest blessing that could have happened to our first parents was being turned out of Eden after they had done wrong. Adam and Eve, in their perfect state, might have got along without work, or only such slight employment as a perfect garden with no weeds in it demanded. But as soon as they had sinned, the best thing for them was to be turned out where they would have to work. We know what a withering thing it is for a man to have nothing to do. Old Ashbel Green, at fourscore years, when asked why he kept on working, said: "I do so to keep out of mischief." We see that a man who has a large amount of money to start with has no chance. Of the thousand prosperous and honorable men that you know, nine hundred and ninety-nine had to work vigorously at the beginning. But I am now to tell you that industry is just as important for a woman's safety and happiness. The most unhappy women in our communities to-day are those who have no engagements to call them up in the morning; who, once having risen and breakfasted, lounge through the dull forenoon in slippers down at the heel and with disheveled hair, reading Ouida's last novel, and who, having dragged through a wretched forenoon and taken their afternoon sleep, and having passed an hour and a half at their toilet, pick up their card-case and go out to make calls, and who pass their evenings waiting for somebody to come in and break up the monotony. Arabella Stuart never was imprisoned in so dark a dungeon as that. There is no happiness in an idle woman. It may be with hand, it may be with brain, it may be with foot; but work she must, or be wretched forever. The little girls of our families must be started with that idea. The curse of American society is that our young women are taught that the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, tenth, fiftieth, thousandth thing in their life is to get somebody to take care of them. Instead of that, the first lesson should be how under God they may take care of themselves. The simple fact is that a majority of them do have to take care of themselves, and that, too, after having, through the false notions of their parents, wasted the years in which they ought to have learned how successfully to maintain themselves. We now and here declare the inhumanity, cruelty, and outrage of that father and mother who pass their daughters into womanhood, having given them no facility for earning their livelihood. Madame de Staël said: "It is not these writings that I am proud of, but the fact that I have facility in ten occupations, in any one of which I could make a livelihood." You say you have a fortune to leave them. Oh, man and woman, have you not learned that like vultures, like hawks, like eagles, riches have wings and fly away? Though you should be successful in leaving a competency behind you, the trickery of executors may swamp it in a night? or some officials in our churches may get up a mining company and induce your orphans to put their money into a hole in Colorado, and if by the most skillful machinery the sunken money can not be brought up again, prove to them, that it was eternally decreed that that was the way they were to lose it, and that it went in the most orthodox and heavenly style. Oh, the damnable schemes that professed Christians will engage in until God puts His fingers into the collar of the hypocrite's robe and strips it clear down to the bottom! You have no right, because you are well off, to conclude that your children are going to be as well off. A man died leaving a large fortune. His son fell dead in a Philadelphia grog-shop. His old comrades came in and said as they bent over his corpse: "What is the matter with you, Boggsey?" The surgeon standing over him said: "Hush ye! He is dead!" "Oh, he is dead," they said. "Come, boys; let us go and take a drink in memory of poor Boggsey!" Have you nothing better than money to leave your children? If you have not, but send your daughters into the world with empty brain and unskilled hand, you are guilty of assassination, homicide, regicide, infanticide. There are women toiling in our cities for two and three dollars per week who were the daughters of merchant princes. These suffering ones now would be glad to have the crumbs that once fell from their fathers' table. That worn-out, broken shoe that she wears is the lineal descendant of the twelve-dollar gaiters in which her mother walked; and that torn and faded calico had ancestry of magnificent brocade that swept Broadway clean without any expense to the street commissioners. Though you live in an elegant residence and fare sumptuously every day, let your daughters feel it is a disgrace to them not to know how to work. I denounce the idea prevalent in society that, though our young women may embroider slippers and crochet and make mats for lamps to stand on without disgrace, the idea of doing anything for a livelihood is dishonorable. It is a shame for a young woman belonging to a large family to be inefficient when the father toils his life away for her support. It is a shame for a daughter to be idle while her mother toils at the wash-tub. It is as honorable to sweep the house, make beds or trim hats as it is to twist a watch-chain. As far as I can understand, the line of respectability lies between that which is useful and that which is useless. If women do that which is of no value, their work is honorable. If they do practical work, it is dishonorable. That our young women may escape the censure of doing dishonorable work, I shall particularize. You may knit a tidy for the back of an arm-chair, but by no means make the money wherewith to buy the chair. You may with a delicate brush beautify a mantel ornament, but die rather than earn enough to buy a marble mantel. You may learn artistic music until you can squall Italian, but never sing "Ortonville" or "Old Hundred." Do nothing practical if you would in the eyes of refined society preserve your respectability. I scout these fine notions. I tell you a woman, no more than a man, has a right to occupy a place in this world unless she pays a rent for it. In the course of a life-time you consume whole harvests and droves of cattle, and every day you live, breathe forty hogsheads of good, pure air. You must by some kind of usefulness pay for all this. Our race was the last thing created--the birds and fishes on the fourth day, the cattle and lizards on the fifth day, and man on the sixth day. If geologists are right, the earth was a million of years in the possession of the insects, beasts, and birds before our race came upon it. In one sense we were innovators. The cattle, the lizards, and the hawks had pre-emption right. The question is not what we are to do with the lizards and summer insects, but what the lizards and summer insects are to do with us. If we want a place in this world, we must earn it. The partridge makes its own nest before it occupies it. The lark by its morning song earns its breakfast before it eats it, and the Bible gives an intimation that the first duty of an idler is to starve when it says: "If he will not work, neither shall he eat." Idleness ruins the health; and very soon nature says: "This man has refused to pay his rent, out with him!" Society is to be reconstructed on the subject of woman's toil. A vast majority of those who would have woman industrious shut her up to a few kinds of work. My judgment in this matter is that a woman has a right to do anything that she can do well. There should be no department of merchandise, mechanism, art, or science barred against her. If Miss Hosmer has genius for sculpture, give her a chisel. If Rosa Bonheur has a fondness for delineating animals, let her make "The Horse Fair." If Miss Mitchell will study astronomy, let her mount the starry ladder. If Lydia will be a merchant, let her sell purple. If Lucretia Mott will preach the Gospel, let her thrill with her womanly eloquence the Quaker meeting-house. It is said, If woman is given such opportunities she will occupy places that might be taken by men. I say, If she have more skill and adaptedness for any position than a man has, let her have it! She has as much right to her bread, to her apparel, and to her home, as men have. But it is said that her nature is so delicate that she is unfitted for exhausting toil. I ask in the name of all past history what toil on earth is more severe, exhausting, and tremendous than that toil of the needle to which for ages she has been subjected? The battering-ram, the sword, the carbine, the battle-ax, have made no such havoc as the needle. I would that these living sepulchers in which women have for ages been buried might be opened, and that some resurrection trumpet might bring up these living corpses to the fresh air and sunlight. Go with me and I will show you a woman who by hardest toil supports her children, her drunken husband, her old father and mother, pays her house rent, always has wholesome food on her table, and when she can get some neighbor on the Sabbath to come in and take care of her family, appears in church with hat and cloak that are far from indicating the toil to which she is subjected. Such a woman as that has body and soul enough to fit her for any position. She could stand beside the majority of your salesmen and dispose of more goods. She could go into your wheelwright shops and beat one half of your workmen at making carriages. We talk about woman as though we had resigned to her all the light work, and ourselves had shouldered the heavier. But the day of judgment, which will reveal the sufferings of the stake and Inquisition, will marshal before the throne of God and the hierarchs of heaven the martyrs of wash-tub and needle. Now, I say if there be any preference in occupation, let women have it. God knows her trials are the severest. By her acuter sensitiveness to misfortune, by her hour of anguish, I demand that no one hedge up her pathway to a livelihood. Oh! the meanness, the despicability of men who begrudge a woman the right to work anywhere in any honorable calling! I go still further and say that woman should have equal compensation with men. By what principle of justice is it that women in many of our cities get only two thirds as much pay as men, and in many cases only half? Here is the gigantic injustice--that for work equally well, if not better, done, woman receives far less compensation than man. Start with the National Government. Women clerks in Washington get nine hundred dollars for doing that for which men receive eighteen hundred dollars. The wheel of oppression is rolling over the necks of thousands of women who are at this moment in despair about what they are to do. Many of the largest mercantile establishments of our cities are accessory to these abominations, and from their large establishments there are scores of souls being pitched off into death, and their employers know it. Is there a God? Will there be a judgment? I tell you, if God rises up to redress woman's wrongs, many of our large establishments will be swallowed up quicker than a South American earthquake ever took down a city. God will catch these oppressors between the two millstones of his wrath and grind them to powder. Why is it that a female principal in a school gets only eight hundred and twenty-five dollars for doing work for which a male principal gets sixteen hundred and fifty dollars? I hear from all this land the wail of womanhood. Man has nothing to answer to that wail but flatteries. He says she is an angel. She is not. She knows she is not. She is a human being who gets hungry when she has no food, and cold when she has no fire. Give her no more flatteries; give her justice! There are sixty-five thousand sewing-girls in New York and Brooklyn. Across the sunlight comes their death groan. It is not such a cry as comes from those who are suddenly hurled out of life, but a slow, grinding, horrible wasting-away. Gather them before you and look into their faces, pinched, ghastly, hunger-struck! Look at their fingers, needle-pricked and blood-tipped! See that premature stoop in the shoulders! Hear that dry, hacking, merciless cough! At a large meeting of these women held in a hall in Philadelphia, grand speeches were delivered, but a needle-woman took the stand, threw aside her faded shawl, and with her shriveled arm hurled a very thunder-bolt of eloquence, speaking out the horrors of her own experience. Stand at the corner of a street in New York at six or seven o'clock in the morning as the women go to work. Many of them had no breakfast except the crumbs that were left over from the night before, or the crumbs they chew on their way through the street. Here they come! The working-girls of New York and Brooklyn. These engaged in head work, these in flower-making, in millinery, in paper-box making; but, most overworked of all and least compensated, the sewing-women. Why do they not take the city cars on their way up? They can not afford the five cents. If, concluding to deny herself something else, she gets into the car, give her a seat. You want to see how Latimer and Ridley appeared in the fire. Look at that woman and behold a more horrible martyrdom, a hotter fire, a more agonizing death. Ask that woman how much she gets for her work, and she will tell you six cents for making coarse shirts and find her own thread. Years ago, one Sabbath night in the vestibule of this church, after service, a woman fell in convulsions. The doctor said she needed medicine not so much as something to eat. As she began to revive, in her delirium she said, gaspingly: "Eight cents! Eight cents! Eight cents! I wish I could get it done, I am so tired. I wish I could get some sleep, but I must get it done. Eight cents! Eight cents! Eight cents!" We found afterward that she was making garments for eight cents apiece, and that she could make but three of them in a day. Hear it! Three times eight are twenty-four. Hear it, men and women who have comfortable homes! Some of the worst villains of our cities are the employers of these women. They beat them down to the last penny and try to cheat them out of that. The woman must deposit a dollar or two before she gets the garments to work on. When the work is done it is sharply inspected, the most insignificant flaws picked out, and the wages refused and sometimes the dollar deposited not given back. The Women's Protective Union reports a case where one of the poor souls, finding a place where she could get more wages, resolved to change employers, and went to get her pay for work done. The employer says: "I hear you are going to leave me?" "Yes," she said, "and I have come to get what you owe me." He made no answer. She said: "Are you not going to pay me?" "Yes," he said, "I will pay you," and he kicked her down-stairs. Oh, that Women's Protective Union, 19 Clinton Place, New York! The blessings of Heaven be on it for the merciful and divine work it is doing in the defense of toiling womanhood! What tragedies of suffering are presented to them day by day! A paragraph from their report: "'Can you make Mr. Jones pay me? He owes me for three weeks at $2.50 a week, and I can't get anything, and my child is very sick!' The speaker, a young woman lately widowed, burst into a flood of tears as she spoke. She was bidden to come again the next afternoon and repeat her story to the attorney at his usual weekly hearing of frauds and impositions. Means were found by which Mr. Jones was induced to pay the $7.50." Another paragraph from their report: "A fortnight had passed, when she modestly hinted a desire to know how much her services were worth. 'Oh, my dear,' he replied, 'you are getting to be one of the most valuable hands in the trade; you will always get the very best price. Ten dollars a week you will be able to earn very easily.' And the girl's fingers flew on with her work at a marvelous rate. The picture of $10 a week had almost turned her head. A few nights later, while crossing the ferry, she overheard the name of her employer in the conversation of girls who stood near: 'What, John Snipes? Why, he don't pay! Look out for him every time. He'll keep you on trial, as he calls it, for weeks, and then he'll let you go, and get some other fool!' And thus Jane Smith gained her warning against the swindler. But the Union held him in the toils of the law until he paid the worth of each of those days of 'trial.'" Another paragraph: "Her mortification may be imagined when told that one of the two five-dollar bills which she had just received for her work was counterfeit. But her mortification was swallowed up in indignation when her employer denied having paid her the money, and insultingly asked her to prove it. When the Protective Union had placed this matter in the courts, the judge said: 'You will pay Eleanor the amount of her claim, $5.83, and also the costs of the court.'" How are these evils to be eradicated? Some say: "Give woman the ballot." What effect such ballot might have on other questions I am not here to discuss; but what would be the effect of female suffrage on women's wages? I do not believe that woman will ever get justice by woman's ballot. Indeed, women oppress women as much as men do. Do not women, as much as men, beat down to the lowest figure the woman who sews for them? Are not women as sharp as men on washer-women and milliners and mantua-makers? If a woman asks a dollar for her work, does not her female employer ask her if she will not take ninety cents? You say, "Only ten cents difference." But that is sometimes the difference between heaven and hell. Women often have less commiseration for women than men. If a woman steps aside from the path of rectitude, man may forgive--woman never! Woman will never get justice done her from woman's ballot. Neither will she get it from man's ballot. How then? God will rise up for her. God has more resources than we know of. The flaming sword that hung at Eden's gate when woman was driven out will cleave with its terrible edge her oppressors. But there is something for women to do. Let young people prepare to excel in spheres of work, and they will be able after awhile to get larger wages. Unskilled and incompetent labor must take what is given: skilled and competent labor will eventually make its own standard. Admitting that the law of supply and demand regulates these things, I contend that the demand for skilled labor is very great and the supply very small. Start with the idea that work is honorable, and that you can do some one thing better than anybody else. Resolve that, God helping, you will take care of yourself. If you are after awhile called into another relation you will all the better be qualified for it by your spirit of self-reliance, or if you are called to stay as you are, you can be happy and self-supporting. Poets are fond of talking about man as an oak and woman the vine that climbs it; but I have seen many a tree fall that not only went down itself, but took all the vines with it. I can tell you of something stronger than an oak for an ivy to climb on, and that is the throne of the great Jehovah. Single or affianced, that woman is strong who leans on God and does her best. Many of you will go single-handed through life, and you will have to choose between two characters. Young woman, I am sure you will turn your back upon the useless, giggling, irresponsible nonentity which society ignominiously acknowledges to be a woman, and ask God to make you an humble, active, earnest Christian. What will become of that womanly disciple of the world? She is more thoughtful of the attitude she strikes upon the carpet than how she will look in the judgment; more worried about her freckles than her sins; more interested in her apparel than in her redemption. The dying actress whose life had been vicious said: "The scene closes--draw the curtain." Generally the tragedy comes first and the farce afterward; but in her life it was first the farce of a useless life and then the tragedy of a wretched eternity. Compare the life and death of such a one with that of some Christian aunt that was once a blessing to your household. I do not know that she was ever asked to give her hand in marriage. She lived single, that, untrammeled, she might be everybody's blessing. Whenever the sick were to be visited or the poor to be provided with bread she went with a blessing. She could pray or sing "Rock of Ages" for any sick pauper who asked her. As she got older there were many days when she was a little sharp, but for the most part auntie was a sunbeam--just the one for Christmas Eve. She knew better than any one else how to fix things. Her every prayer, as God heard it, was full of everybody who had trouble. The brightest things in all the house dropped from her fingers. She had peculiar notions, but the grandest notion she ever had was to make you happy. She dressed well--auntie always dressed well; but her highest adornment was that of a meek and quiet spirit, which, in the sight of God, is of great price. When she died you all gathered lovingly about her; and as you carried her out to rest, the Sunday-school class almost covered the coffin with japonicas; and the poor people stood at the end of the alley, with their aprons to their eyes, sobbing bitterly, and the man of the world said, with Solomon: "Her price was above rubies;" and Jesus, as unto the maiden in Judea, commanded, "I say unto thee, Arise!" TOBACCO AND OPIUM. "Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed."--GEN. i: 11. The two first born of our earth were the grass-blade and the herb. They preceded the brute creation and the human family--the grass for the animal creation, the herb for human service. The cattle came and took possession of their inheritance, the grass-blade; man came and took possession of his inheritance, the herb. We have the herb for food as in case of hunger, for narcotic as in case of insomnia, for anodyne as in case of paroxysm, for stimulant as when the pulses flag under the weight of disease. The caterer comes and takes the herb and presents it in all styles of delicacy. The physician comes and takes the herb and compounds it for physical recuperation. Millions of people come and take the herb for ruinous physical and intellectual delectation. The herb, which was divinely created, and for good purposes, has often been degraded for bad results. There is a useful and a baneful employment of the herbaceous kingdom. There sprung up in Yucatan of this continent an herb that has bewitched the world. In the fifteenth century it crossed the Atlantic Ocean and captured Spain. Afterward it captured Portugal. Then the French embassadors took it to Paris, and it captured the French Empire. Then Walter Raleigh took it to London, and it captured Great Britain. Nicotiana, ascribed to that genus by the botanists, but we all know it is the exhilarating, elevating, emparadising, nerve-shattering, dyspepsia-breeding, health-destroying tobacco. I shall not in my remarks be offensively personal, because you all use it, or nearly all! I know by experience how it soothes and roseates the world, and kindles sociality, and I also know some of its baleful results. I was its slave, and by the grace of God I have become its conqueror. Tens of thousands of people have been asking the question during the past two months, asking it with great pathos and great earnestness: "Does the use of tobacco produce cancerous and other troubles?" I shall not answer the question in regard to any particular case, but shall deal with the subject in a more general way. You say to me, "Did God not create tobacco?" Yes. You say to me, "Is not God good?" Yes. Well, then, you say, "If God is good and he created tobacco, He must have created it for some good purpose." Yes, your logic is complete. But God created the common sense at the same time, by which we are to know how to use a poison and how not to use it. God created that just as He created henbane and nux vomica and copperas and belladonna and all other poisons, whether directly created by Himself or extracted by man. That it is a poison no man of common sense will deny. A case was reported where a little child lay upon its mother's lap and one drop fell from a pipe to the child's lip, and it went into convulsions and into death. But you say, "Haven't people lived on in complete use of it to old age?" Oh, yes; just as I have seen inebriates seventy years old. In Boston, years ago, there was a meeting in which there were several centenarians, and they were giving their experience, and one centenarian said that he had lived over a hundred years, and that he ascribed it to the fact that he had refrained from the use of intoxicating liquors. Right after him another centenarian said he had lived over a hundred years, and he ascribed it to the fact that for the last fifty years he had hardly seen a sober moment. It is an amazing thing how many outrages men may commit upon their physical system and yet live on. In the case of the man of the jug he lived on because his body was pickled. In the case of the man of the pipe, he lived on because his body turned into smoked liver! But are there no truths to be uttered in regard to this great evil? What is the advice to be given to the multitude of young people who hear me this day? What is the advice you are going to give to your children? First of all, we must advise them to abstain from the use of tobacco because all the medical fraternity of the United States and Great Britain agree in ascribing to this habit terrific unhealth. The men whose life-time work is the study of the science of health say so, and shall I set up my opinion against theirs? Dr. Agnew, Dr. Olcott, Dr. Barnes, Dr. Rush, Dr. Mott, Dr. Harvey, Dr. Hosack--all the doctors, allopathic, homeopathic, hydropathic, eclectic, denounce the habit as a matter of unhealth. A distinguished physician declared he considered the use of tobacco caused seventy different styles of disease, and he says: "Of all the cases of cancer in the mouth that have come under my observation, almost in every case it has been ascribed to tobacco." The united testimony of all physicians is that it depresses the nervous system, that it takes away twenty-five per cent. of the physical vigor of this generation, and that it goes on as the years multiply and, damaging this generation with accumulated curse, it strikes other centuries. And if it is so deleterious to the body, how much more destructive to the mind. An eminent physician, who was the superintendent of the insane asylum at Northampton, Massachusetts, says: "Fully one half the patients we get in our asylum have lost their intellect through the use of tobacco." If it is such a bad thing to injure the body, what a bad thing, what a worse thing it is to injure the mind, and any man of common sense knows that tobacco attacks the nervous system, and everybody knows that the nervous system attacks the mind. Besides that, all reformers will tell you that the use of tobacco creates an unnatural thirst, and it is the cause of drunkenness in America to-day more than anything else. In all cases where you find men taking strong drink you find they use tobacco. There are men who use tobacco who do not take strong drink, but all who use strong drink use tobacco, and that shows beyond controversy there is an affinity between the two products. There are reformers here to-day who will testify to you it is impossible for a man to reform from taking strong drink until he quits tobacco. In many of the cases where men have been reformed from strong drink and have gone back to their cups, they have testified that they first touched tobacco and then they surrendered to intoxicants. I say in the presence of this assemblage to-day, in which there are many physicians--and they know that what I say is true on the subject--that the pathway to the drunkard's grave and the drunkard's hell is strewn thick with tobacco-leaves. What has been the testimony on this subject? Is this a mere statement of a preacher whose business it is to talk morals, or is the testimony of the world just as emphatic? What did Benjamin Franklin say? "I never saw a well man in the exercise of common sense who would say that tobacco did him any good." What did Thomas Jefferson say? Certainly he is good authority. He says in regard to the culture of tobacco, "It is a culture productive of infinite wretchdness." What did Horace Greeley say of it? "It is a profane stench." What did Daniel Webster say of it? "If those men must smoke, let them take the horse-shed!" One reason why the habit goes on from destruction to destruction is that so many ministers of the gospel take it. They smoke themselves into bronchitis, and then the dear people have to send them to Europe to get them restored from exhausting religious services! They smoke until the nervous system is shattered. They smoke themselves to death. I could mention the names of five distinguished clergymen who died of cancer of the mouth, and the doctor said, in every case, it was the result of tobacco. The tombstone of many a minister of religion has been covered all over with handsome eulogy, when, if the true epitaph had been written, it would have said: "Here lies a man killed by too much cavendish!" They smoke until the world is blue, and their theology is blue, and everything is blue. How can a man stand in the pulpit and preach on the subject of temperance when he is indulging such a habit as that? I have seen a cuspadore in a pulpit into which the holy man dropped his cud before he got up to read about "blessed are the pure in heart," and to read about the rolling of sin as a sweet morsel under the tongue, and to read about the unclean animals in Leviticus that chewed the cud. About sixty-five years ago a student at Andover Theological Seminary graduated into the ministry. He had an eloquence and a magnetism which sent him to the front. Nothing could stand before him. But in a few months he was put in an insane asylum, and the physician said tobacco was the cause of the disaster. It was the custom in those days to give a portion of tobacco to every patient in the asylum. Nearly twenty years passed along, and that man was walking the floor of his cell in the asylum, when his reason returned, and he saw the situation, and he took the tobacco from his mouth and threw it against the iron gate of the place in which he was confined, and he said: "What brought me here? What keeps me here? Tobacco! tobacco! God forgive me, God help me, and I will never use it again." He was fully restored to reason, came forth, preached the Gospel of Christ for some ten years, and then went into everlasting blessedness. There are ministers of religion now in this country who are dying by inches, and they do not know what is the matter with them. They are being killed by tobacco. They are despoiling their influence through tobacco. They are malodorous with tobacco. I could give one paragraph of history, and that would be my own experience. It took ten cigars to make one sermon, and I got very nervous, and I awakened one day to see what an outrage I was committing upon my health by the use of tobacco. I was about to change settlement, and a generous tobacconist of Philadelphia told me if I would come to Philadelphia and be his pastor he would give me all the cigars I wanted for nothing all the rest of my life. I halted. I said to myself, "If I smoke more than I ought to now in these war times, and when my salary is small, what would I do if I had gratuitous and unlimited supply?" Then and there, twenty-four years ago, I quit once and forever. It made a new man of me. Much of the time the world looked blue before that, because I was looking through tobacco smoke. Ever since the world has been full of sunshine, and though I have done as much work as any one of my age, God has blessed me, it seems to me, with the best health that a man ever had. I say that no minister of religion can afford to smoke. Put in my hand all the money expended by Christian men in Brooklyn for tobacco, and I will support three orphan asylums as well and as grandly as the three great orphan asylums already established. Put into my hand the money spent by the Christians of America for tobacco, and I will clothe, shelter, and feed all the suffering poor of the continent. The American Church gives a million dollars a year for the salvation of the heathen, and American Christians smoke five million dollars' worth of tobacco. I stand here to-day in the presence of a vast multitude of young people who are forming their habits. Between seventeen and twenty-five years of age a great many young men get on them habits in the use of tobacco that they never get over. Let me say to all my young friends, you can not afford to smoke, you can not afford to chew. You either take very good tobacco, or you take very cheap tobacco. If it is cheap, I will tell you why it is cheap. It is made of burdock, and lampblack, and sawdust, and colt's-foot, and plantain leaves, and fuller's earth, and salt, and alum, and lime, and a little tobacco, and you can not afford to put such a mess as that in your mouth. But if you use expensive tobacco, do you not think it would be better for you to take that amount of money which you are now expending for this herb, and which you will expend during the course of your life if you keep the habit up, and with it buy a splendid farm and make the afternoon and the evening of your life comfortable? There are young men whose life is going out inch by inch from cigarettes. Now, do you not think it would be well for you to listen to the testimony of a merchant of New York, who said this: "In early life I smoked six cigars a day at six and a half cents each. They averaged that. I thought to myself one day, I'll just put aside all I consume in cigars and all I would consume if I keep on in the habit, and I'll see what it will come to by compound interest." And he gives this tremendous statistic: "Last July completed thirty-nine years since, by the grace of God, I was emancipated from the filthy habit, and the saving amounted to the enormous sum of $29,102.03 by compound interest. We lived in the city, but the children, who had learned something of the enjoyment of country life from their annual visits to their grandparents, longed for a home among the green fields. I found a very pleasant place in the country for sale. The cigar money came into requisition, and I found it amounted to a sufficient sum to purchase the place, and it is mine. Now, boys, you take your choice. Smoking without a home, or a home without smoking." This is common sense as well as religion. I must say a word to my friends who smoke the best tobacco, and who could stop at any time. What is your Christian influence in this respect? What is your influence upon young men? Do you not think it would be better for you to exercise a little self-denial! People wondered why George Briggs, Governor of Massachusetts, wore a cravat but no collar. "Oh," they said, "it is an absurd eccentricity." This was the history of the cravat without any collar: For many years before he had been talking with an inebriate, trying to persuade him to give up the habit of drinking and he said to the inebriate, "Your habit is entirely unnecessary." "Ah!" replied the inebriate, "we do a great many things that are not necessary. It isn't necessary that you should have that collar." "Well," said Mr. Briggs, "I'll never wear a collar again if you will stop drinking." "Agreed," said the other. They joined hands in a pledge that they kept for twenty years--kept until death. That is magnificent. That is Gospel, practical Gospel, worthy of George Briggs, worthy of you. Self-denial for others. Subtraction from our advantage that there may be an addition to somebody else's advantage. But what I have said has been chiefly appropriate for men. Now my subject widens and shall be appropriate for both sexes. In all ages of the world there has been a search for some herb or flower that would stimulate lethargy and compose grief. Among the ancient Greeks and Egyptians they found something they called nepenthe, and the Theban women knew how to compound it. If a person should chew a few of those leaves his grief would be immediately whelmed with hilarity. Nepenthe passed out from the consideration of the world and then came hasheesh, which is from the Indian hemp. It is manufactured from the flowers at the top. The workman with leathern apparel walks through the field and the exudation of the plants adheres to the leathern garments, and then the man comes out and scrapes off this exudation, and it is mixed with aromatics and becomes an intoxicant that has brutalized whole nations. Its first effect is sight, spectacle glorious and grand beyond all description, but afterward it pulls down body, mind, and soul into anguish. I knew one of the most brilliant men of our time. His appearance in a newspaper column, or a book, or a magazine was an enchantment. In the course of a half hour he could produce more wit and more valuable information than any man I ever heard talk. But he chewed hasheesh. He first took it out of curiosity to see whether the power said to be attached really existed. He took it. He got under the power of it. He tried to break loose. He put his hand in the cockatrice's den to see whether it would bite, and he found out to his own undoing. His friends gathered around and tried to save him, but he could not be saved. The father, a minister of the Gospel, prayed with him and counseled him, and out of a comparatively small salary employed the first medical advice of New York, Philadelphia, Edinburgh, Paris, London, and Berlin, for he was his only son. No help came. First his body gave way in pangs and convulsions of suffering. Then his mind gave way and he became a raving maniac. Then his soul went out blaspheming God into a starless eternity. He died at thirty years of age. Behold the work of accursed hasheesh. But I must put my emphasis upon the use of opium. It is made from the white poppy. It is not a new discovery. Three hundred years before Christ we read of it; but it was not until the seventh century that it took up its march of death, and, passing out of the curative and the medicinal, through smoking and mastication it has become the curse of nations. In 1861 there were imported into this country one hundred and seven thousand pounds of opium. In 1880, nineteen years after, there were imported five hundred and thirty thousand pounds of opium. In 1876 there were in this country two hundred and twenty-five thousand opium-consumers. Now, it is estimated there are in the United States to-day six hundred thousand victims of opium. It is appalling. We do not know why some families do not get on. There is something mysterious about them. The opium habit is so stealthy, it is so deceitful, and it is so deathful, you can cure a hundred men of strong drink where you can cure one opium-eater. I have knelt down in this very church by those who were elegant in apparel, and elegant in appearance, and from the depths of their souls and from the depths of my soul, we cried out for God's rescue. Somehow it did not come. In many a household only the physician and pastor know it--the physician called in for physical relief, the pastor called in for spiritual relief, and they both fail. The physician confesses his defeat, the minister of religion confesses his defeat, for somehow God does not seem to hear a prayer offered for an opium-eater. His grace is infinite, and I have been told there are cases of reformation. I never saw one. I say this not to wound the feelings of any who may feel this awful grip, but to utter a potent warning that you stand back from that gate of hell. Oh, man, oh, woman, tampering with this great evil, have you fallen back on this as a permanent resource because of some physical distress or mental anguish? Better stop. The ecstasies do not pay for the horrors. The Paradise is followed too soon by the Pandemonium. Morphia, a blessing of God for the relief of sudden pang and of acute dementia, misappropriated and never intended for permanent use. It is not merely the barbaric fanatics that are taken down by it. Did you ever read De Quincey's "Confessions of an Opium-Eater?" He says that during the first ten years the habit handed to him all the keys of Paradise, but it would take something as mighty as De Quincey's pen to describe the consequent horrors. There is nothing that I have ever read about the tortures of the damned that seemed more horrible than those which De Quincey says he suffered. Samuel Taylor Coleridge first conquered the world with his exquisite pen, and then was conquered by opium. The most brilliant, the most eloquent lawyer of the nineteenth century went down under its power, and there is a vast multitude of men and women--but more women than men--who are going into the dungeon of that awful incarceration. The worst thing about it is, it takes advantage of one's weakness. De Quincey says: "I got to be an opium-eater on account of my rheumatism." Coleridge says: "I got to be an opium-eater on account of my sleeplessness." For what are you taking it? For God's sake do not take it long. The wealthiest, the grandest families going down under its power. Twenty-five thousand victims of opium in Chicago. Twenty-five thousand victims of opium in St. Louis, and, according to that average, seventy-five thousand victims of opium in New York and Brooklyn. The clerk of a drug store says: "I can tell them when they come in; there is something about their complexion, something about their manner, something about the look of their eyes that shows they are victims." Some in the struggle to get away from it try chloral. Whole tons of chloral manufactured in Germany every year. Baron Liebig says he knows one chemist in Germany who manufactures a half ton of chloral every week. Beware of hydrate of chloral. It is coming on with mighty tread to curse these cities. But I am chiefly under this head speaking of the morphine. The devil of morphia is going to be in this country, in my opinion, mightier than the devil of alcohol. By the power of the Christian pulpit, by the power of the Christianized printing-press, by the power of the Lord God Almighty, all these evils are going to be extirpated--all, all, and you have a work in regard to that, and I have a work. But what we do we had better do right away. The clock ticks now, and we hear it; after awhile the clock will tick and we will not hear it. I sat at a country fireside, and I saw the fire kindle and blaze, and go out. I sat long enough at that fireside to get a good many practical reflections, and I said: "That is like human life, that fire on the hearth." We put on the fagots and they blaze up, and out, and on, and the whole room is filled with the light, gay of sparkle, gay of flash, gay of crackle. Emblem of boyhood. Now the fire intensifies. Now the flame reddens into coals. Now the heat is becoming more and more intense, and the more it is stirred the redder is the coal. Now with one sweep of flame it cleaves the way, and all the hearth glows with the intensity. Emblem of full manhood. Now the coals begin to whiten. Now the heat lessens. Now the flickering shadows die along the wall. Now the fagots fall apart. Now the household hover over the expiring embers. Now the last breath of smoke is lost in the chimney. The fire is out. Shovel up the white remains. Ashes! Ashes! WHY ARE SATAN AND SIN PERMITTED? "Wherefore do the wicked live?"--JOB xxi: 7, Poor Job! With tusks and horns and hoofs and stings, all the misfortunes of life seemed to come upon him at once. Bankruptcy, bereavement, scandalization, and eruptive disease so irritating that he had to re-enforce his ten finger-nails with pieces of earthenware to scratch himself withal. His wife took the diagnosis of his complaints and prescribed profanity. She thought he would feel better if between the paroxysms of grief and pain he would swear a little. For each boil a plaster of objurgation. Probably no man was ever more tempted to take the bad advice than when, at last, Job's three exasperating friends came in, Eliphaz, Zophar, and Bildad, practically saying to him, "You old sinner, serves you right; you are a hypocrite; what a sight you are! God has sent these chastisements for your wickedness." The disfigured invalid, putting down the pieces of broken saucer with which he had been rubbing his arms, with swollen eyelids looks up and says to his garrulous friends in substance, "The most wicked people sometimes have the best health and are the most prospered," and then in that connection hurls the question which every man and woman has asked in some juncture of affairs, "Wherefore do the wicked live?" They build up fortunes that overshadow the earth. They confound all the life-insurance tables on the subject of longevity, dying octogenarians, perhaps nonagenarians, possibly centenarians. Ahab in the palace, Naboth in the cabinet. Unclean Herod on the throne, consecrated Paul twisting ropes for tent-making. Manasseh, the worst of all the kings of Juda, living longer than any of them. While the general rule is the wicked do not live out half their days, there are exceptions where they live on to great age and in a Paradise of beauty and luxuriance, and die with a whole college of physicians expending its skill in trying further prolongation of life, and have a funeral with casket under mountain of calla-lilies, the finest equipages of the city jingling and flashing into line, the poor, angle-worm of the dust carried out to its hole in the ground with the pomp that might make a spirit from some other world suppose that the Archangel Michael was dead. Go up among the finest residences of the city, and on some of the door-plates you will find the names of those mightiest for commercial and social iniquity. They are the vampires of society--they are the gorgons of the century. Some of these men have each wheel of their carriage a juggernaut wet with the blood of those sacrificed to their avarice. Some of them are like Caligula, who wished that all the people had only one neck that he might strike it off at one blow. Oh, the slain, the slain! A long procession of usurers and libertines and infamous quacks and legal charlatans and world-grabbing monsters. What apostleship of despoliation! Demons incarnate. Hundreds of men concentering all their energies of body, mind, and soul in one prolonged, ever-intensifying, and unrelenting effort to scald and scarify and blast and consume the world. I do not blame you for asking me the quivering, throbbing, burning, resounding, appalling question of my text, "Wherefore do the wicked live?" In the first place, they live to demonstrate beyond all controversy the long-suffering patience of God. You sometimes say, under some great affront, "I will not stand it;" but perhaps you are compelled to stand it. God, with all the batteries of omnipotence loaded with thunderbolts, stands it century after century. I have no doubt sometimes an angel comes to Him and suggests, "Now is the time to strike." "No," says God; "wait a year, wait twenty years, wait a century, wait five centuries." What God does is not so wonderful as what He does not do. He has the reserve corps with which He could strike Mormonism and Mohammedanism and Paganism from the earth in a day. He could take all the fraud in New York on the west side of Broadway and hurl it into the Hudson, and all the fraud on the east side of Broadway and hurl it into the East River in an hour. He understands the combination lock of every dishonest money-safe, and could blow it up quicker than by any earthly explosive. Written all over the earth, written all over history are the words, "Divine forbearance, divine leniency, divine long-suffering." I wonder that God did not burn this world up two thousand years ago, scattering its ashes into immensity, its aerolites dropping into other worlds to be kept in their museums as specimens of a defunct planet. People sometimes talk of God as though He were hasty in His judgments and as though He snapped men up quick. Oh, no! He waited one hundred and twenty years for the people to get into the ark, and warned them all the time--one hundred and twenty years, then the flood came. The Anchor Line gives only a month's announcement of the sailing of the "Circassia," the White Star Line gives only a month's announcement of the sailing of the "Britannic," the Cunard Line gives only a month's announcement of the sailing of the "Oregon;" but of the sailing of that ship that Noah commanded God gave one hundred and twenty years' announcement and warning. Patience antediluvian, patience postdiluvian, patience in times Adamic, Abrahamic, Mosaic, Davidic, Pauline, Lutheran, Whitefieldian. Patience with men and nations. Patience with barbarisms and civilizations. Six thousand years of patience! Overtopping attribute of God, all of whose attributes are immeasurable. Why do the wicked live? That their overthrow may be the more impressive and climacteric. They must pile up their mischief until all the community shall see it, until the nation shall see it, until all the world shall see it. The higher it goes up the harder it will come down and the grander will be the divine vindication. God will not allow sin to sneak out of the world. God will not allow it merely to resign and quit. This shall not be a case that goes by default because no one appears against it. God will arraign it, handcuff it, try it, bring against it the verdict of all the good, and then gibbet it so high up that if one half of the gibbet stood on Mount Washington and the other on the Himalaya, it would not be any more conspicuous. About fifteen years ago we had in this country a most illustrious instance of how God lets a man go on in iniquity, so that at the close of the career his overthrow may be the more impressive, full of warning and climacteric. First, an honest chairmaker, then an alderman, then a member of congress, then a supervisor of a city, then school commissioner, then state senator, then commissioner of public works--on and up, stealing thousands of dollars here and thousands of dollars there, until the malfeasance in office overtopped anything the world had ever seen--making the new Court House in New York a monument of municipal crime, and rushing the debt of the city from thirty-six million dollars to ninety-seven millions. Now, he is at the top of millionairedom. Country-seat terraced and arbored and parterred clear to the water's brink. Horses enough to stock a king's equerry. Grooms and postilions in full rig. Wine cellars enough to make a whole legislature drunk. New York finances and New York politics in his vest pocket. He winked, and men in high place fell. He lifted his little finger, and ignoramuses took important office. He whispered, and in Albany and Washington they said it thundered. Wider and mightier and more baleful his influence, until it seemed as if Pandemonium was to be adjourned to this world, and in the Satanic realm there was to be a change of administration, and Apollyon, who had held dominion so long, should have a successful competitor. To bring all to a climax, a wedding came in the house of that man. Diamonds as large as hickory nuts. A pin of sixty diamonds representing sheaves of wheat. Musicians in a semicircle, half-hidden by a great harp of flowers. Ships of flowers. Forty silver sets, one of them with two hundred and forty pieces. One wedding-dress that cost five thousand dollars. A famous libertine, who owned several Long Island Sound steamboats, and not long before he was shot for his crimes, sent as a wedding present to that house a frosted silver iceberg, with representations of arctic bears walking on icicle-handles and ascending the spoons. Was there ever such a convocation of pictures, bronzes, of bric-à-brac, of grandeurs, social grandeurs? The highest wave of New York splendor rolled into that house and recoiled perhaps never again to rise so high. But just at that time, when all earthly and infernal observation was concentered on that man, eternal justice, impersonated by that wonder of the American bar, Charles O'Connor, got on the track of the offender. First arraignment, then sentence to twelve years' imprisonment under twelve indictments, then penitentiary on Blackwell's Island, then a lawsuit against him for six million dollars, then incarceration in Ludlow Street jail, then escape to foreign land, to be brought back under the stout grip of the constabulary, then dying of broken heart in a prison cell. God allowed him to go on in iniquity until all the world saw as never before that "the way of the transgressor is hard," and that dishonesty will not declare permanent dividends, and that you had better be an honest chairmaker with a day's wages at a time than a brilliant commissioner of public works, all your pockets crammed with plunder. What a brilliant figure in history is William the Conqueror, the intimidator of France, of Anjou, of Brittany, victor at Hastings, snatching the crown of England and setting it on his own brow, destroying homesteads that he might have a larger game forest, making a Doomsday Book by which he could keep the whole land under despotic espionage, proclaiming war in revenge for a joke uttered in regard to his obesity. Harvest fields and vineyards going down under the cavalry hoof. Nations horror-struck. But one day while at the apex of all observation he is riding out and the horse put his hoof on a hot cinder, throwing the king so violently against the pommel of the saddle that he dies, his son hastening to England to get the crown before the breath has left his father's body. The imperial corpse drawn by a cart, most of the attendants leaving it in the street because of a fire alarm that they might go off and see the conflagration. And just as they are going to put his body down in the church which he had built, a man stepping up and saying, "Bishop, the man you praise is a robber. This church stands on my father's homestead. The property on which this church is built is mine. I reclaim my right. In the name of Almighty God I forbid you to bury the king here, or to cover him with my glebe." "Go up," said the ambition of William the Conqueror. "Go up by conquest, go up by throne, go up in the sight of all nations, go up by cruelties." But one day God said, "Come down, come down by the way of a miserable death, come down by the way of an ignominious obsequies, come down in the sight of all nations, come clear down, come down forever." And you and I see the same thing on a smaller scale many and many a time--illustrations of the fact that God lets the wicked live that He may make their overthrow the more climacteric. What is true in regard to sin is true in regard to its author, Satan, called Abaddon, called the Prince of the Power of the Air, called the serpent, called the dragon. It seems to me any intelligent man must admit that there is a commander-in-chief of all evil. The Persians called him Ahriman, the Hindus called him Siva. He was represented on canvas as a mythological combination of Thor and Cerberus and Pan and Vulcan and other horrible addenda. I do not care what you call him, that monster of evil is abroad, and his one work is destruction. John Milton almost glorified him by witchery of description, but he is the concentration of all meanness and of all despicability. My little child, seven years of age, said to her mother one day, "Why don't God kill the devil at once, and have done with it?" In less terse phrase we have all asked the same question. The Bible says he is to be imprisoned and he is to be chained down. Why not heave the old miscreant into his dungeon now? Does it not seem as if his volume of infamy were complete? Does it not seem as if the last fifty years would make an appropriate peroration? No; God will let him go on to the top of all bad endeavor, and then when all the earth and all constellations and galaxies and all the universe are watching, God will hurl him down with a violence and ghastliness enough to persuade five hundred eternities that a rebellion against God must perish. God will not do it by piecemeal, God will not do it by small skirmish. He will wait until all the troops are massed, and then some day when in defiant and confident mood, at the head of his army, this Goliath of hell stalks forth, our champion, the son of David, will strike him down, not with smooth stones from the brook, but with fragments from the Rock of Ages. But it will not be done until this giant of evil and his holy antagonist come out within full sight of the two great armies. The tragedy is only postponed to make the overthrow more impressive and climacteric. Do not fret. If God can afford to wait you can afford to wait. God's clock of destiny strikes only once in a thousand years. Do not try to measure events by the second-hand on your little time-piece. Sin and Satan go on only that their overthrow may at last be the more terrific, the more impressive, the more resounding, the more climacteric. Why do the wicked live? In order that they may build up fortresses for righteousness to capture. Have you not noticed that God harnesses men, bad men, and accomplishes good through them? Witness Cyrus, witness Nebuchadnezzar, witness the fact that the Bastile of oppression was pried open by the bayonets of a bad man. Recently there came to me the fact that a college had been built at the Far West for infidel purposes. There was to be no nonsense of chapel prayers, no Bible reading there. All the professors there were pronounced infidels. The college was opened, and the work went on, but, of course, failed. Not long ago a Presbyterian minister was in a bank in that village on purposes of business, and he heard in an adjoining room the board of trustees of that college discussing what they had better do with the institution, as it did not get on successfully, and one of the trustees proposed that it be handed over to the Presbyterians, prefacing the word Presbyterians with a very unhappy expletive. The resolutions were passed, and that fortress of infidelity has become a fortress of old-fashioned, orthodox religion, the only religion that will be worth a snap of your finger when you come to die or appear in the Day of Judgment. The devil built the college. Righteousness captured it. In some city there goes up a great club-house--the architecture, the furniture, all the equipment a bedazzlement of wealth. That particular club-house is designed to make gambling and dissipation respectable. Do not fret. That splendid building will after a while be a free library, or it will be a hospital, or it will be a gallery of pure art. Again and again observatories have been built by infidelity, and the first thing you know they go into the hand of Christian science. God said in the Bible that He would put a hook in Sennacherib's nose and pull him down by a way he knew not. And God has a hook to-day in the nose of every Sennacherib of infidelity and sin, and will drag him about as He will. Marble halls deserted to sinful amusements will yet be dedicated for religious assemblage. All these castles of sin are to be captured for God as we go forth with the battle-shout that Oliver Cromwell rang out at the head of his troops as he rode in on the field of Naseby: "Let God arise and let His enemies be scattered!" After a great fire in London, amid the ruins there was nothing left but an arch with the name of the architect upon it; and, my friends, whatever else goes down, God stays up. Why do the wicked live? That some of them may be monuments of mercy. So it was with John Newton, so it was with Augustine, perhaps so it was with you. Chieftains of sin to become chieftains of grace. Paul, the apostle, made out of Saul, the persecutor. Baxter, the flaming evangel, made out of Baxter, the blasphemer. Whole squadrons, with streamers of Emmanuel floating from the masthead, though once they were launched from the dry-docks of diabolism. God lets these wicked men live that He may make jewels out of them for coronets, that He may make tongues of fire out of them for Pentecosts, that He may make warriors out of them for Armageddons, that he may make conquerors out of them for the day when they shall ride at the head of the white-horse host in the grand review of the resurrection. Why do the wicked live? To make it plain beyond all controversy that there is another place of adjustment. So many of the bad up, so many of the good down. It seems to me that no man can look abroad without saying--no man of common sense, religious or irreligious, can look abroad without saying, "There must be some place where brilliant scoundrelism shall be arrested, where innocence shall get out from under the heel of despotism." Common fairness as well as eternal justice demands it. We adjourn to the great assizes, the stupendous injustices of this life. They are not righted here. There must be some place where they will be righted. God can not afford to omit the judgment day or the reconstruction of conditions. For you can not make me believe that that man stuffed with all abomination, having devoured widows' houses and digested them, looking with basilisk or tigerish eyes upon his fellows, no music so sweet to him as the sound of breaking hearts, is, at death, to get out of the landau at the front door of the sepulcher and pass right on through to the back door of the sepulcher, and find a celestial turnout waiting for him, so that he can drive tandem right up primrosed hills, one glory riding as lackey ahead, and another glory riding as postilion behind, while that poor woman who supported her invalid husband and her helpless children by taking in washing and ironing, often putting her hand to her side where the cancerous trouble had already begun, and dropping dead late on Saturday night while she was preparing the garments for the Sabbath day, coming afoot to the front door of the sepulcher, shall pass through to the back door of the sepulcher and find nothing waiting, no one to welcome, no one to tell her the way to the King's gate. I will not believe it. Solomon was confounded in his day by what he represents as princes afoot and beggars a-horseback, but I tell you there must be a place and a time when the right foot will get into the stirrup. To demonstrate beyond all controversy that there is another place for adjustment, God lets the wicked live. Why do the wicked live? For the same reason that He lets us live--to have time for repentance. Where would you and I have been if sin had been followed by immediate catastrophe? While the foot of Christ is fleet as that of a roebuck when He comes to save, it does seem as if he were hoppled with great languors and infinite lethargies when He comes to punish. Oh, I celebrate God's slowness, God's retardation, God's putting off the retribution! Do you not think, my brother, it would be a great deal better for us to exchange our impatient hypercriticism of Providence because this man, by watering of stock, makes a million dollars in one day, and another man rides on in one bloated iniquity year after year--would it not be better for us to exchange that impatient hypercriticism for gratitude everlasting that God let us who were wicked live, though we deserved nothing but capsize and demolition? Oh, I celebrate God's slowness! The slower the rail-train comes the better, if the drawbridge is off. How long have you, my brother, lived unforgiven? Fifteen, twenty, forty, sixty years? Lived through great awakenings, lived through domestic sorrow, lived through commercial calamity, lived through providential crises that startled nations, and you are living yet, strangers to God, and with no hope for a great future into which you may be precipitated. Oh, would it not be better for us to get our nature through the Grace of Christ revolutionized and transfigured? For I want you to know that God sometimes changes His gait, and instead of the deliberate tread He is the swift witness, and sometimes the enemies of God are suddenly destroyed, and that without remedy. Make God your ally. What an offer that is! Do not fight against Him. Do not contend against your best interests. Yield this morning to the best impulse of your heart, and that is toward Christ and heaven. Do not fight the Lord that made you and offers to redeem you. Philip of France went out with his army, with bows and arrows, to fight King Edward III. of England; but just as they got into the critical moment of the battle, a shower of rain came and relaxed the bow-strings so that they were of no effect, and Philip and his army were worsted. And all your weaponry against God will be as nothing when he rains upon you discomfiture from the heavens. Do not fight the Lord any longer. Change allegiance. Take down the old flag of sin, run up the new flag of grace. It does not take the Lord Jesus Christ the thousandth part of a second to convert you if you will only surrender, be willing to be saved. The American Congress was in anxiety during the Revolutionary War while awaiting to hear news from the conflict between Washington and Cornwallis, and the anxiety became intense and almost unbearable as the days went by. When the news came at last that Cornwallis had surrendered and the war was practically over, so great was the excitement that the doorkeeper of the House of Congress dropped dead from joyful excitement. And if this long war between your soul and God should come to an end this morning by your entire surrender, the war forever over, the news would very soon reach the heavens, and nothing but the supernatural health of your loved ones before the throne would keep them from being prostrated with overjoy at the cessation of all spiritual hostilities. THE END. 
16309	----	PARADOXES OF CATHOLICISM BY ROBERT HUGH BENSON _These sermons (which the following pages contain in a much abbreviated form) were delivered, partly in England in various places and at various times, partly in New York in the Lent of 1912, and finally, as a complete course, in the church of S. Silvestro-in-Capite, in Rome, in the Lent of 1913. Some of the ideas presented in this book have already been set out in a former volume entitled "Christ in the Church" and a few in the meditations upon the Seven Words, in another volume, but in altogether other connexions. The author thought it better, therefore, to risk repetition rather than incoherency in the present set of considerations. It is hoped that the repetitions are comparatively few. Italics have been used for all quotations, whether verbal or substantial, from Holy Scripture and other literature_. ROBERT HUGH BENSON HARE STREET HOUSE, BUNTINGFORD EASTER, 1913 CONTENTS INTRODUCTORY (i) JESUS CHRIST, GOD AND MAN (ii) THE CATHOLIC CHURCH, DIVINE AND HUMAN I PEACE AND WAR II WEALTH AND POVERTY III SANCTITY AND SIN IV JOY AND SORROW V LOVE OF GOD AND LOVE OF MAN VI FAITH AND REASON VII AUTHORITY AND LIBERTY VIII CORPORATENESS AND INDIVIDUALISM IX MEEKNESS AND VIOLENCE X THE SEVEN WORDS XI LIFE AND DEATH PARADOXES OF CATHOLICISM INTRODUCTORY (i) JESUS CHRIST, GOD AND MAN _I and My Father are one_.--JOHN X. 30. _My Father is greater than I_.--JOHN XIV. 20. The mysteries of the Church, a materialistic scientist once announced to an astonished world, are child's play compared with the mysteries of nature.[1] He was completely wrong, of course, yet there was every excuse for his mistake. For, as he himself tells us in effect, he found everywhere in that created nature which he knew so well, anomaly piled on anomaly and paradox on paradox, and he knew no more of theology than its simpler and more explicit statements. [Footnote 1: Professor Huxley.] We can be certain therefore--we who understand that the mysteries of nature are, after all, within the limited circle of created life, while the mysteries of grace run up into the supreme Mystery of the eternal and uncreated Life of God--we can be certain that, if nature is mysterious and paradoxical, grace will be incalculably more mysterious. For every paradox in the world of matter, in whose environment our bodies are confined, we shall find a hundred in that atmosphere of spirit in which our spirits breathe and move--those spirits of ours which, themselves, paradoxically enough, are forced to energize under material limitations. We need look no further, then, to find these mysteries than to that tiny mirror of the Supernatural which we call our self, to that little thread of experience which we name the "spiritual life." How is it, for example, that while in one mood our religion is the lamp of our shadowy existence, in another it is the single dark spot upon a world of pleasure--in one mood the single thing that makes life worth living at all, and in another the one obstacle to our contentment? What are those sorrowful and joyful mysteries of human life, mutually contradictory yet together resultant (as in the Rosary itself) in others that are glorious? Turn to that master passion that underlies these mysteries--the passion that is called love--and see if there be anything more inexplicable than such an explanation. What is this passion, then, that turns joy to sorrow and sorrow to joy--this motive that drives a man to lose his life that he may save it, that turns bitter to sweet and makes the cross but a light yoke after all, that causes him to find his centre outside his own circle, and to please himself best by depriving himself of pleasure? What is that power that so often fills us with delights before we have begun to labour, and rewards our labour with the darkness of dereliction? I. If our interior life, then, is full of paradox and apparent contradiction--and there is no soul that has made any progress that does not find it so--we should naturally expect that the Divine Life of Jesus Christ on earth, which is the central Objective Light of the World reflected in ourselves, should be full of yet more amazing anomalies. Let us examine the records of that Life and see if it be not so. And let us for that purpose begin by imagining such an examination to be made by an inquirer who has never received the Christian tradition. (i) He begins to read, of course, with the assumption that this Life is as others and this Man as other men; and as he reads he finds a hundred corroborations of the theory. Here is one, born of a woman, hungry and thirsty by the wayside, increasing in wisdom; one who works in a carpenter's shop; rejoices and sorrows; one who has friends and enemies; who is forsaken by the one and insulted by the other--who passes, in fact, through all those experiences of human life to which mankind is subject--one who dies like other men and is laid in a grave. Even the very marvels of that Life he seeks to explain by the marvellous humanity of its hero. He can imagine, as one such inquirer has said, how the magic of His presence was so great--the magic of His simple yet perfect humanity--that the blind opened their eyes to see the beauty of His face and the deaf their ears to hear Him. Yet, as he reads further, he begins to meet his problems. If this Man were man only, however perfect and sublime, how is it that His sanctity appears to run by other lines than those of other saints? Other perfect men as they approached perfection were most conscious of imperfection; other saints as they were nearer God lamented their distance from Him; other teachers of the spiritual life pointed always away from themselves and their shortcomings to that Eternal Law to which they too aspired. Yet with this Man all seems reversed. He, as He stood before the world, called on men to imitate Him; not, as other leaders have done, to avoid His sins: this Man, so far from pointing forward and up, pointed to Himself as the Way to the Father; so far from adoring a Truth to which He strove, named Himself its very incarnation; so far from describing a Life to which He too one day hoped to rise, bade His hearers look on Himself Who was their Life; so far from deploring to His friends the sins under which He laboured, challenged His enemies to find within Him any sin at all. There is an extraordinary Self-consciousness in Him that has in it nothing of "self" as usually understood. Then it may be, at last, that our inquirer approaches the Gospel with a new assumption. He has been wrong, he thinks, in his interpretation that such a Life as this was human at all. "_Never man spake like this man_." He echoes from the Gospel, "_What manner of man is this that even the winds and the sea obey Him_? How, after all," he asks himself, "could a man be born without a human father, how rise again from the dead upon the third day?" Or, "How even could such marvels be related at all of one who was no more than other men?" So once more he begins. Here, he tells himself, is the old fairy story come true; here is a God come down to dwell among men; here is the solution of all his problems. And once more he finds himself bewildered. For how can God be weary by the wayside, labour in a shop, and die upon a cross? How can the Eternal Word be silent for thirty years? How can the Infinite lie in a manger? How can the Source of Life be subject to death? He turns in despair, flinging himself from theory to theory--turns to the words of Christ Himself, and the perplexity deepens with every utterance. If Christ be man, how can He say, _My Father and I are one_? If Christ be God, how can He proclaim that _His Father is greater than He_? If Christ be Man, how can He say, _Before Abraham was, I am_? If Christ be God, how can He name Himself _the Son of Man_. (ii) Turn to the spiritual teaching of Jesus Christ, and once more problem follows problem, and paradox, paradox. Here is He Who came to soothe men's sorrows and to give rest to the weary, He Who offers a sweet yoke and a light burden, telling them that no man can be His disciple who will not take up the heaviest of all burdens and follow Him uphill. Here is one, the Physician of souls and bodies, Who _went about doing good_, Who set the example of activity in God's service, pronouncing the silent passivity of Mary as the better part that shall not be taken away from her. Here at one moment He turns with the light of battle in His eyes, bidding His friends who have not swords to _sell their cloaks and buy them_; and at another bids those swords to be sheathed, since _His Kingdom is not of this world_. Here is the Peacemaker, at one time pronouncing His benediction on those who make peace, and at another crying that He _came to bring not peace but a sword_. Here is He Who names as _blessed those that mourn_ bidding His disciples to _rejoice and be exceeding glad_. Was there ever such a Paradox, such perplexity, and such problems? In His Person and His teaching alike there seems no rest and no solution--_What think ye of Christ? Whose Son is He_? II. (i) The Catholic teaching alone, of course, offers a key to these questions; yet it is a key that is itself, like all keys, as complicated as the wards which it alone can unlock. Heretic after heretic has sought for simplification, and heretic after heretic has therefore come to confusion. Christ is God, cried the Docetic; therefore cut out from the Gospels all that speaks of the reality of His Manhood! God cannot bleed and suffer and die; God cannot weary; God cannot feel the sorrows of man. Christ is Man, cries the modern critic; therefore tear out from the Gospels His Virgin Birth and His Resurrection! For none but a Catholic can receive the Gospels as they were written; none but a man who believes that Christ is both God and Man, who is content to believe that and to bow before the Paradox of paradoxes that we call the Incarnation, to accept the blinding mystery that Infinite and Finite Natures were united in one Person, that the Eternal expresses Himself in Time, and that the Uncreated Creator united to Himself Creation--none but a Catholic, in a word, can meet, without exception, the mysterious phenomena of Christ's Life. (ii) Turn now again to the mysteries of our own limited life and, as in a far-off phantom parallel, we begin to understand. For we too, in our measure, have a double nature. _As God and Man make one Christ, so soul and body make one man_: and, as the two natures of Christ--as His Perfect Godhead united to His Perfect Manhood--lie at the heart of the problems which His Life presents, so too our affinities with the clay from which our bodies came, and with the Father of Spirits Who inbreathed into us living souls, explain the contradictions of our own experience. If we were but irrational beasts, we could be as happy as the beasts; if we were but discarnate spirits that look on God, the joy of the angels would be ours. Yet if we assume either of these two truths as if it were the only truth, we come certainly to confusion. If we live as the beasts, we cannot sink to their contentment, for our immortal part will not let us be; if we neglect or dispute the rightful claims of the body, that very outraged body drags our immortal spirit down. The acceptance of the two natures of Christ alone solves the problems of the Gospel; the acceptance of the two parts of our own nature alone enables us to live as God intends. Our spiritual and physical moods, then, rise and fall as the one side or the other gains the upper hand: now our religion is a burden to the flesh, now it is the exercise in which our soul delights; now it is the one thing that makes life worth living, now the one thing that checks our enjoyment of life. These moods alternate, inevitably and irresistibly, according as we allow the balance of our parts to be disturbed and set swaying. And so, ultimately, there is reserved for us the joy neither of beasts nor of angels, but the joy of humanity. We are higher than the one, we are lower than the other, that we may be crowned by Him Who in that same Humanity sits on the Throne of God. So much, then, for our introduction. We have seen how the Paradox of the Incarnation alone is adequate to the phenomena recorded in the Gospel--how that supreme paradox is the key to all the rest. We will proceed to see how it is also the key to other paradoxes of religion, to the difficulties which the history of Catholicism presents. For the Catholic Church is the extension of Christ's Life on earth; the Catholic Church, therefore, that strange mingling of mystery and common-sense, that union of earth and heaven, of clay and fire, can alone be understood by him who accepts her as both Divine and Human, since she is nothing else but the mystical presentment, in human terms, of Him Who, though the Infinite God and the Eternal Creator, was _found in the form of a servant_, of Him Who, _dwelling always in the Bosom of the Father_, for our sakes _came down from heaven_. (ii) THE CATHOLIC CHURCH, DIVINE AND HUMAN _Blessed art thou Simon Bar-jona; because flesh and blood hath not revealed it to thee, but My Father Who is in heaven.... Go behind me, satan, for thou savourest not the things that are of God, but the things that are of men_.--MATT. XVI. 17, 23. We have seen how the only reconciliation of the paradoxes of the Gospel lies in the Catholic doctrine of the Incarnation. It is only to him who believes that Jesus Christ is perfect God and perfect Man that the Gospel record is coherent and intelligible. The heretics--men who for the most part either rejected or added to the inspired record--were those who, on the one side, accepted Christ's Divinity and rejected the proofs of His Humanity, or accepted His Humanity and rejected the proofs of His Divinity. In the early ages, for the most part, these accepted His Divinity and, rejecting His Humanity, invented childish miracles which they thought appropriate to a God dwelling on earth in a phantom manhood; at the present day, rejecting His Divinity, they reject also those miracles for which His Divinity alone is an adequate explanation. Now the Catholic Church is an extension of the Incarnation. She too (though, as we shall see, the parallel is not perfect) has her Divine and Human Nature, which alone can account for the paradoxes of her history; and these paradoxes are either predicted by Christ--asserted, that is, as part of His spiritual teaching--or actually manifested in His own life. (We may take them as symbolised, so to speak, in those words of our Lord to St. Peter in which He first commends him as a man inspired by God and then, almost simultaneously, rebukes him as one who can rise no further than an earthly ideal at the best.) I. (i) Just as we have already imagined a well-disposed inquirer approaching for the first time the problems of the Gospel, so let us now again imagine such a man, in whom the dawn of faith has begun, encountering the record of Catholicism. At first all seems to him Divine. He sees, for example, how singularly unique she is, how unlike to all other human societies. Other societies depend for their very existence upon a congenial human environment; she flourishes in the most uncongenial. Other societies have their day and pass down to dissolution and corruption; she alone knows no corruption. Other dynasties rise and fall; the dynasty of Peter the Fisherman remains unmoved. Other causes wax and wane with the worldly influence which they can command; she is usually most effective when her earthly interest is at the lowest ebb. Or again, he falls in love with her Divine beauty and perceives even in her meanest acts a grace which he cannot understand. He notices with wonder how she takes human mortal things--a perishing pagan language, a debased architecture, an infant science or philosophy--and infuses into them her own immortality. She takes the superstitions of a country-side and, retaining their "accidents," transubstantiates them into truth; the customs or rites of a pagan society, and makes them the symbols of a living worship. And into all she infuses a spirit that is all her own--a spirit of delicate grace and beauty of which she alone has the secret. It is her Divinity, then, that he sees, and rightly. But, wrongly, he draws certain one-sided conclusions. If she is so perfect, he argues (at least subconsciously), she can be nothing else than perfect; if she is so Divine she can be in no sense human. Her pontiffs must all be saints, her priests shining lights, her people stars in her firmament. If she is Divine, her policy must be unerring, her acts all gracious, her lightest movements inspired. There must be no brutality anywhere, no self-seeking, no ambition, no instability. How should there be, since she is Divine? Such are his first instincts. And then, little by little, his disillusionment begins. For, as he studies her record more deeply, he begins to encounter evidences of her Humanity. He reads history, and he discovers here and there a pontiff who but little in his moral character resembles Him Whose Vicar he is. He meets an apostate priest; he hears of some savagery committed in Christ's name; he talks with a convert who has returned complacently to the City of Confusion; there is gleefully related to him the history of a family who has kept the faith all through the period of persecution and lost it in the era of toleration. And he is shaken and dismayed. "How can these be in a Society that is Divine? I had _trusted_ that it had been_ She _who should have redeemed Israel;_ _and now--_!" (ii) Another man approaches the record of Catholicism from the opposite direction. To him she is a human society and nothing more; and he finds, indeed, a thousand corroborations of his theory. He views her amazing success in the first ages of Christianity--the rapid propagation of her tenets and the growth of her influence--and sees behind these things nothing more than the fortunate circumstance of the existence of the Roman Empire. Or he notices the sudden and rapid rise of the power of the Roman pontiff and explains this by the happy chance that moved the centre of empire to the east and left in Rome an old prestige and an empty throne. He sees how the Church has profited by the divisions in Europe; how she has inherited the old Latin genius for law and order; and he finds in these things an explanation of her unity and of her claim to rule princes and kings. She is to him just human, and no more. There is not, at first sight, a phenomenon of her life for which he cannot find a human explanation. She is interesting, as a result of innumerable complicated forces; she is venerable, as the oldest coherent society in Europe; she has the advantage of Italian diplomacy; she has been shrewd, unweary, and persevering. But she is no more. And then, as he goes deeper, he begins to encounter phenomena which do not fall so easily under his compact little theories. If she is merely human, why do not the laws of all other human societies appear to affect her too? Why is it that she alone shows no incline towards dissolution and decay? Why has not she too split up into the component parts of which she is welded? How is it that she has preserved a unity of which all earthly unities are but shadows? Or he meets with the phenomena of her sanctity and begins to perceive that the difference between the character she produces in her saints and the character of the noblest of those who do not submit to her is one of kind and not merely of degree. If she is merely mediaeval, how is it that she commands such allegiance as that which is paid to her in modern America? If she is merely European, how is it that she alone can deal with the Oriental on his own terms? If she is merely the result of temporal circumstances, how is it that her spiritual influence shows no sign of waning when the forces that helped to build her are dispersed? His theory too, then, becomes less confident. If she is Human, why is she so evidently Divine? If she is Divine, whence comes her obvious Humanity? So years ago men asked, If Christ be God, how could He be weary by the wayside and die upon the Cross? So men ask now, If Christ be Man, how could He cast out devils and rise from the dead? II. We come back, then, to the Catholic answer. Treat the Catholic Church as Divine only and you will stumble over her scandals, her failures, and her shortcomings. Treat her as Human only and you will be silenced by her miracles, her sanctity, and her eternal resurrections. (i) Of course the Catholic Church is Human. She consists of fallible men, and her Humanity is not even safeguarded as was that of Christ against the incursions of sin. Always, therefore, there have been scandals, and always will be. Popes may betray their trust, in all human matters; priests their flocks; laymen their faith. No man is secure. And, again, since she is human it is perfectly true that she has profited by human circumstances for the increase of her power. Undoubtedly it was the existence of the Roman Empire, with its roads, its rapid means of transit, and its organization, that made possible the swift propagation of the Gospel in the first centuries. Undoubtedly it was the empty throne of Caesar and the prestige of Rome that developed the world's acceptance of the authority of Peter's Chair. Undoubtedly it was the divisions of Europe that cemented the Church's unity and led men to look to a Supreme Authority that might compose their differences. There is scarcely an opening in human affairs into which she has not plunged; hardly an opportunity she has missed. Human affairs, human sins and weaknesses as well as human virtues, have all contributed to her power. So grows a tree, even in uncongenial soil. The rocks that impede the roots later become their support; the rich soil, waiting for an occupant, has been drawn up into the life of the leaves; the very winds that imperilled the young sapling have developed too its power of resistance. Yet these things do not make the tree. (ii) For her Humanity, though it is the body in which her Divinity dwells, does not create that Divinity. Certainly human circumstances have developed her, yet what but Divine Providence ordered and developed those human circumstances? What but that same power, which indwells in the Church, dwelt without her too and caused her to take root at that time and in that place which most favored her growth? Certainly she is Human. It may well be that her rulers have contradicted one another in human matters--in science, in policy, and in discipline; but how is it, then, that they have not contradicted one another in matters that are Divine? Granted that one Pope has reversed the policy of his predecessor, then what has saved him from reversing his theology also? Certainly there have been appalling scandals, outrageous sinners, blaspheming apostates--but what of her saints? And, above all, she gives proof of her Divinity by that very sign to which Christ Himself pointed as a proof of His own. Granted that she _dies daily_--that her cause fails in this century and in that country; that her science is discredited in this generation and her active morality in that and her ideals in a third--how comes it that she also rises daily from the dead; that her old symbols rise again from their ruins; that her virtues are acclaimed by the children of the men who renounced her; that her bells and her music sound again where once her churches and houses were laid waste? Here, then, is the Catholic answer and it is this alone that makes sense of history, as it is Catholic doctrine which alone makes sense of the Gospel record. The answer is identical in both cases alike, and it is this--that the only explanation of the phenomena of the Gospels and of Church history is that the Life which produces them is both Human and Divine. I PEACE AND WAR _Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called the children of God._--MATT. V. 9. _Do not think that I am come to send peace on earth; I came not to send peace but the sword._--MATT. X. 34. We have considered how the key to the Paradoxes of the Gospel and the key to the Paradoxes of Catholicism is one and the same--that the Life that produces them is at once Divine and Human. Let us go on to consider how this resolves those of Catholicism, especially those charged against us by our adversaries. For we live in a day when Catholicism is no longer considered by intelligent men to be too evidently absurd to be argued with. Definite reasons are given by those who stand outside our borders for the attitude they maintain; definite accusations are made which must either be allowed or refuted. Now those who stand without the walls of the City of Peace know nothing, it is true, of the life that its citizens lead within, nothing of the harmony and consolation that Catholicism alone can give. Yet of certain points, it may be, in the large outlines of that city against the sky, of the place it occupies in the world, of its wide effect upon human life in general, it may very well be that these detached observers may know more than the devout who dwell at peace within. Let us, then, consider their reflections not necessarily as wholly false; it may be that they have caught glimpses which we have missed and relations which either we take too much for granted or have failed altogether to see. It may be that these accusations will turn out to be our credentials in disguise. I. Every world-religion, we are told, worthy of the name has as its principal object and its chief claim to consideration its establishing or its fostering of peace among men. Supremely this was so in the first days of Christianity. It was this that its great prophet predicted of its work when its Divine Founder should come on earth. Nature shall recover its lost harmony and the dissensions of men shall cease when He, the Prince of Peace, shall approach. The very beasts shall lie down together in amity, _the lion and the lamb_ and _the leopard and the kid_. Further, it was the Message of Peace that the angels proclaimed over His cradle in Bethlehem; it was the Gift of Peace which He Himself promised to His disciples; it was the _Peace of God which passeth knowledge_ to which the great Apostle commended his converts. This then, we are told, is of the very essence of Christianity; this is the supreme benediction on the peacemakers that _they shall be called the children of God_. Yet, when we turn to Catholicism, we are bidden to see in it not a gatherer but a scatterer, not the daughter of peace but the mother of disunion. Is there a single tormented country in Europe to-day, it is rhetorically demanded, that does not owe at least part of its misery to the claims of Catholicism? What is it but Catholicism that lies at the heart of the divided allegiance of France, of the miseries of Portugal, and of the dissensions of Italy? Look back through history and you will find the same tale everywhere. What was it that disturbed the politics of England so often from the twelfth to the fifteenth century, and tore her in two in the sixteenth, but the determined resistance of an adolescent nation to the tyranny of Rome? What lay behind the religious wars of Europe, behind the fires of Smithfield, the rack of Elizabeth, and the blood of St. Bartholomew's Day but this intolerant and intolerable religion which would come to no terms even with the most reasonable of its adversaries? It is impossible, of course, altogether to apportion blame, to say that in each several instance it was the Catholic that was the aggressor; but at least it is true to say that it was Catholic principles that were the occasion and Catholic claims the unhappy cause of all this incalculable flood of human misery. How singularly unlike, then, we are told, is this religion of dissension to the religion of Jesus Christ, of all these dogmatic and disciplinary claims and assertions to the meekness of the Poor Man of Nazareth! If true Christianity is anywhere in the world to-day it is not among such as these that it lies hid; rather it must be sought among the gentle humanitarians of our own and every country--men who strive for peace at all cost, men whose principal virtues are those of toleration and charity, men who, if any, have earned the beatitude of being _called the children of God_. II. We turn to the Life of Jesus Christ from the Life of Catholicism, and at first indeed it does seem as if the contrast were justified. We cannot deny our critic's charges; every one of his historical assertions is true: it is indeed true that Catholicism has been the occasion of more bloodshedding than has any of the ambitions or jealousies of man. And it is, further, true that Jesus Christ pronounced this benediction; that He bade His followers seek after peace, and that He commended them, in the very climax of His exaltation, to the Peace which He alone could bestow. Yet, when we look closer, the case is not so simple. For, first, what was, as a matter of fact, the direct immediate effect of the Life and Personality of Jesus Christ upon the society in which He lived but this very dissension, this very bloodshedding and misery that are charged against His Church? It was precisely on this account that He was given into the hands of Pilate. _He stirreth up the people. He makes Himself a King._ He is a contentious demagogue, a disloyal citizen, a danger to the Roman Peace. And indeed there seem to have been excuses for these charges. It was not the language of a modern "humanitarian," of the modern tolerant "Christian," that fell from the Divine Lips of Jesus Christ. _Go and tell that fox_, He cries of the ruler of His people. _O you whited sepulchres full of dead men's bones! You vipers! You hypocrites!_ This is the language He uses to the representatives of Israel's religion. Is this the kind of talk that we hear from modern leaders of religious thought? Would such language as this be tolerated for a moment from the humanitarian Christian pulpits of to-day? Is it possible to imagine more inflammatory speech, more "unchristian sentiments," as they would be called to-day, than those words uttered by none other but the Divine Founder of Christianity? What of that amazing scene when He threw the furniture about the temple courts? And as for the effect of such words and methods, our Lord Himself is quite explicit. "Make no mistake," He cries to the modern humanitarian who claims alone to represent Him. "Make no mistake. I am _not come to bring peace_ at any price; there are worse things than war and bloodshed. I am _come to bring not peace but a sword_. I am come to _divide families_, not to unite them; to rend kingdoms, not to knit them up; I am come _to set mother against daughter and daughter against mother_; I am come not to establish universal toleration, but universal Truth." What, then, is the reconciliation of the Paradox? In what sense can it be possible that the effect of the Personality of the Prince of Peace, and therefore the effect of His Church, in spite of their claims to be the friends of peace, should be _not peace, but the sword?_ III. Now (1) the Catholic Church is a Human Society. She is constituted, that is to say, of human beings; she depends, humanly speaking, upon human circumstances; she can be assaulted, weakened, and disarmed by human enemies. She dwells in the midst of human society, and it is with human society that she has to deal. Now if she were not human--if she were merely a Divine Society, a far-off city in the heavens, a future distant ideal to which human society is approximating, there would be no conflict at all. She would never meet in a face-to-face shock the passions and antagonisms of men; she could suppress, now and again, her Counsels of Perfection, her calls to a higher life, if it were not that these are vital and present principles which she is bound to propagate among men. And again, if she were merely human, there would be no conflict. If she were merely ascended from below, merely the result of the finest religious thought of the world, the high-water mark of spiritual attainment, again she could compromise, could suppress, could be silent. But she is both human and divine, and therefore her warfare is certain and inevitable. For she dwells in the midst of the kingdoms of this world, and these are constituted, at any rate at the present day, on wholly human bases. Statesmen and kings, at the present day, do not found their policies upon supernatural considerations; their object is to govern their subjects, to promote the peace and union of their subjects, to make war, if need be, on behalf of the peace of their subjects, wholly on natural grounds. Commerce, finance, agriculture, education in the things of this world, science, art, exploration--human activities generally--these, in their purely natural aspect, are the objects of nearly all modern statesmanship. Our rulers are professedly, in their public capacity, neither for religion nor against it; religion is a private matter for the individual, and governments stand aside--or at any rate profess to do so. And it is in this kind of world, in this fashion of human society, that the Catholic Church, in virtue of her humanity, is bound to dwell. She too is a kingdom, though not of this world, yet in it. (2) For she is also Divine. Her message contains, that is to say, a number of supernatural principles revealed to her by God; she is supernaturally constituted; she rests on a supernatural basis; she is not organized as if this world were all. On the contrary she puts the kingdom of God definitely first and the kingdoms of the world definitely second; the Peace of God first and the harmony of men second. Therefore she is bound, when her supernatural principles clash with human natural principles, to be the occasion of disunion. Her marriage laws, as a single example, are at conflict with the marriage laws of the majority of modern States. It is of no use to tell her to modify these principles; it would be to tell her to cease to be supernatural, to cease to be herself. How can she modify what she believes to be her Divine Message? Again, since she is organized on a supernatural basis, there are supernatural elements in her own constitution which she can no more modify than her dogmas. Recently, in France, she was offered the _kingdom of this world_ if she would do so; it was proposed to her that she actually retain her own wealth, her churches and her houses, and yield up her principle of spiritual appeal to the Vicar of Christ. If she had been but human, how evident would have been her duty! How inevitable that she should modify her constitution in accordance with human ideas and preserve her property intact! And how entirely impossible such a bargain must be for a Society that is divine as well as human! Take courage then! We desire peace above all things--that is to say, the Peace of God, not _that peace which the world_, since it _can give_ it, can also _take away_; not that peace which depends on the harmony of nature with nature, but of nature with grace. Yet, so long as the world is divided in allegiance; so long as the world, or a country, or a family, or even an individual soul bases itself upon natural principles divorced from divine, so long to that world, that country, that family, and that human heart will the supernatural religion of Catholicism bring _not peace, but a sword_. And it will do so to the end, up to the final world-shattering catastrophe of Armageddon itself. "I come," cries the Rider on the White Horse, "to bring Peace indeed, but a peace of which the world cannot even dream; a peace built upon the eternal foundations of God Himself, not upon the shifting sands of human agreement. And until that Vision dawns there must be war; until God's Peace descends indeed and is accepted, till then _My Garments must be splashed in blood_ and from My Mouth comes forth _not peace, but a two-edged sword_." II WEALTH AND POVERTY _Make to yourselves friends of the Mammon of iniquity_. _You cannot serve God and Mammon_.-LUKE XVI. 9, 13. We have seen how the Church of the Prince of Peace must continually be the centre of war. Let us go on to consider how, as a Human Society dwelling in this world, she must continually have her eyes fixed upon the next, and how, as a Divine Society, she must be open to the charge of worldliness. I. (i) The charge is a very common one: "Look at the extraordinary wealth and splendour that this Church of the Poor Man of Nazareth constantly gathers around her and ask yourself how she can dare to claim to represent Him! Go through Holy Rome and see how the richest and most elaborate buildings bear over their gateways the heraldic emblems of Christ's Vicar! Go through any country which has not risen in disgust and cast off the sham that calls herself 'Christ's Church' and you will find that no worldly official is so splendid as these heavenly delegates of Jesus Christ, no palaces more glorious than those in which they dwell who pretend to preach Him who _had not where to lay His head!_ "Above all, turn from that simple poverty-stricken figure that the Gospels present to us, to the man who claims to be His Vicegerent on earth. See him go, crowned three times over, on a throne borne on men's shoulders, with the silver trumpets shrilling before him and the ostrich fans coming on behind, and you will understand why the world cannot take the Church seriously. Look at the court that is about him, all purple and scarlet, and set by that the little band of weather-beaten fishermen! "No; if this Church were truly of Christ, she would imitate Him better. It was His supreme mission to point to _things that are above;_ to lift men's thoughts above dross and gold and jewels and worldly influence and high places and power; to point to _a Heavenly Jerusalem, not made with hands;_ to comfort the sorrowful with a vision of future peace, not to dabble with temporal matters; to speak of grace and heaven and things to come, and _to let the dead bury their dead!_ The best we can do for her, then, is to disembarrass her of her riches; to turn her temporal possessions to frankly temporal ends; to release her from the slavery of her own ambition into the _liberty of the poor and the children of God!"_ (ii) In a word, then, the Church is too worldly to be the Church of Christ! _You cannot serve God and Mammon_. Yet in another mood our critic will tell us that we are too otherworldly to be the Church of Christ. "The chief charge I have against Catholicism," says such a man, "is that the Church is too unpractical. If she were truly the Church of Jesus Christ, she would surely imitate Him better in that which, after all, was the mark of His highest Divinity--namely in His Humanity towards men. Christ did not come into the world to preach metaphysics and talk forever of a heaven that is to come; He came rather to attend to men's simplest needs, _to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked_, to reform society on better lines. It was not by His dogma that He won men's hearts; it was by His simple, natural sympathy with their common needs. He came, in a word, to make the best of this world, to use the elements that lay ready to His hand, to sanctify all the plain things of earth with which He came in contact. "These otherworldly Catholics, then, are too much apart from common life and common needs. Their dogmas and their aspirations and their metaphysics are useless to a world which wants bread. Let them act more and dream less! Let them show, for example, by the prosperity of Catholic countries that Catholicism is practical and not a vision. Let them preach less and philanthropize more. Let them show that they have the key to this world's progress, and perhaps we will listen more patiently to their claim to hold the key to the world that is to come!" But, surely, this is a little hard upon Catholics! When we make ourselves at home in this world, we are informed that Jesus Christ _had not where to lay His Head_. When we preach the world that is to come, we are reminded that Jesus Christ after all came down from that world into this to make it better. When we build a comfortable church, we are told that we are too luxurious. When we build an uncomfortable one we are asked how we expect to do any good unless we are practical. II. Now, of course, both these charges were also objected against our Blessed Lord. For He too had His double activities. It is true that there were times when He gave men earthly bread; it is also true that He offered them heavenly bread. There were times when He cared for men's bodies; there were other times when He bade them sacrifice all that makes bodily life worth living; times when He sat at meat in the house of a rich man, and times when He starved, voluntarily, in the desert. And the world found Him wrong whichever He did. He was too worldly when He healed men on the Sabbath; for is not the Law of God of more value than a man's bodily ease? Why can He not wait till to-morrow? He was too worldly when He allowed His disciples to rub corn in their hands; for does not the Law of God forbid a man to make bread on the Sabbath? He was too worldly, too unpractical, too sense-loving when He permitted the precious ointment to be spilled on His feet; _for might not this ointment have been sold for much and given to the poor?_ Is not spirituality enough, and the incense of adoration? And He was too otherworldly when He preached the Sermon on the Mount. What is the use of saying, _Blessed are the Meek_, when the whole world knows that "Blessed are the Self-Assertive"? He was too otherworldly when He spoke of Heavenly Bread. What is the use of speaking of Heavenly Bread when it is earthly food that men need first of all? He was too otherworldly when He remained in the country on the feast day. _If He be the Christ_, let Him be practical and say so! It was, in fact, on these very two charges that He was arraigned for death. He was too worldly for Pilate, in that He was Son of Man and therefore a rival to Caesar; and too otherworldly for Caiphas, since _He made Himself Son of God_ and therefore a rival to Jehovah. III. The solution, then, of this Catholic Paradox is very simple. (i) First, the Church is a Heavenly Society come down from above--heavenly in her origin and her birth. She is the _kingdom of God_, first and foremost, and exists for His glory solely and entirely. She seeks, then, first the extension of His kingdom; and compared with this, nothing is of any value in her eyes. Never, then, must she sacrifice God to Mammon; never hesitate for one instant if the choice lies between them. For she considers that eternity is greater than time and the soul of man of more value than his body. The sacraments therefore, in her eyes, come before an adequate tram-service; and that a man's soul should be in grace is, to her, of more importance than that his body should be in health--if the choice is between them. She prefers, therefore, the priest to the doctor, if there is not time for both, and Holy Communion to a good breakfast. Therefore, of course, she appears too otherworldly to the stockbroker and the provincial mayor, since she actually places the things of God before the things of man and "seeks first His Kingdom." (ii) "And all these things shall be added" to her. For she is Human also, in that she dwells in this world where God has placed her, and uses therefore the things with which He has surrounded her. To say that she is supernatural is not to deny her humanity any more than to assert that man has an immortal soul is to exclude the truth that he also has a body. It is this Body of hers, then--this humanity of hers which enshrines her Divinity--that claims and uses earthly things; it is this Body that _dwells in houses made with hands_ and that claims too, in honour to herself and her Bridegroom, that, so long as her spirituality is not tarnished, these houses shall be as splendid as art can make them. For she is not a Puritan nor a Manichee; she does not say that any single thing which God has made can conceivably be of itself evil, however grievously it may have been abused; on the contrary, she has His own authority for saying that _all is very good_. She uses, then, every earthly beauty that the world will yield to her, to honour her own Majesty. It may be right to set diamonds round the neck of a woman, but it is certainly right to set them round the Chalice of the Blood of God. If an earthly king wears vestments of cloth of gold, must not a heavenly King yet more wear them? If music is used by the world to destroy men's souls, may not she use it to save their souls? If a marble palace is fit for the President of the French Republic, by what right do men withhold it from the King of kings? But the world does withhold its wealth sometimes? Very well then, she can serve God without it, in spite of her rights. If men whine and cringe, or bully and shout, for the jewels with which their forefathers honoured God, she will fling them back again down her altar stairs and worship God in a barn or a catacomb without them. For, though she does not _serve God and Mammon_, she yet _makes to herself friends of the Mammon of iniquity_. Though she does not and never can serve God and Mammon, she will and can, when the world permits it, make Mammon serve her. For the Church is the Majesty of God dwelling on earth. She is there, in herself, utterly independent of her reception. If it is _her own_ to whom _she comes, and her own do not receive her_, they are none the less hers by every right. For, though she will use every earthly thing to her honour, though she considers no ointment wasted, however precious, that is spilled by love over her feet, yet her essential glory does not lie in these things. She is _all glorious within_, whether or not her _vesture is of gold_, for she is a _King's Daughter_. She is, essentially, as glorious in the Catacombs as in the Roman basilicas; as lovely in the barefooted friar as in the robed and sceptred Vicar of Christ; as majestic in Christ naked on the Cross as in Christ ascended and enthroned in heaven. Yet, since she is His Majesty on earth, she has a right to all that earth can give. All _the beasts of the field are hers, and the cattle on a thousand hills_, all the stars of heaven and the jewels of earth; all the things in the world are hers by Divine right. _All things are hers, for she is Christ's._ Yet, nevertheless, _she will suffer the loss of all things_ sooner than lose Him. III SANCTITY AND SIN _Holy, Holy, Holy!_--IS. VI. 3. Christ Jesus came into this world to save sinners_. I TIM. I. 15. A very different pair of charges--and far more vital--than those more or less economic accusations of worldliness and otherworldliness which we have just considered, concern the standards of goodness preached by the Church and her own alleged incapacity to live up to them. These may be briefly summed up by saying that one-half the world considers the Church too holy for human life, and the other half, not holy enough. We may name these critics, respectively, the Pagan and the Puritan. I. It is the Pagan who charges her with excessive Holiness. "You Catholics," he tells us, "are far too hard on sin and not nearly indulgent enough towards poor human nature. Let me take as an instance the sins of the flesh. Now here is a set of desires implanted by God or Nature (as you choose to name the Power behind life) for wise and indeed essential purposes. These desires are probably the very fiercest known to man and certainly the most alluring; and human nature is, as we know, an extraordinarily inconsistent and vacillating thing. Now I am aware that the abuse of these passions leads to disaster and that Nature has her inexorable laws and penalties; but you Catholics add a new horror to life by an absurd and irrational insistence on the offence that this abuse causes before God. For not only do you fiercely denounce the "acts of sin," as you name them, but you presume to go deeper still to the very desire itself, as it would seem. You are unpractical and cruel enough to say that the very thought of sin deliberately entertained can cut off the soul that indulges in it from the favour of God. "Or, to go further, consider the impossible ideals which you hold up with regard to matrimony. These ideals have a certain beauty of their own to persons who can embrace them; they may perhaps be, to use a Catholic phrase, Counsels of Perfection; but it is merely ludicrous to insist upon them as rules of conduct for all mankind. Human Nature is human nature. You cannot bind the many by the dreams of the few. "Or, to take a wider view altogether, consider the general standards you hold up to us in the lives of your saints. These saints appear to the ordinary common-place man as simply not admirable at all. It does not seem to us admirable that St. Aloysius should scarcely lift his eyes from the ground, or that St. Teresa should shut herself up in a cell, or that St. Francis should scourge himself with briers for fear of committing sin. That kind of attitude is too fantastically fastidious altogether. You Catholics seem to aim at a standard that is simply not desirable; both your ends and your methods are equally inhuman and equally unsuitable for the world we have to live in. True religion is surely something far more sensible than this; true religion should not strain and strive after the impossible, should not seek to improve human nature by a process of mutilation. You have excellent aims in some respects and excellent methods in others, but in supreme demands you go beyond the mark altogether. We Pagans neither agree with your morality nor admire those whom you claim as your successes. If you were less holy and more natural, less idealistic and more practical, you would be of a greater service to the world which you desire to help. Religion should be a sturdy, virile growth; not the delicate hot-house blossom which you make it." The second charge comes from the Puritan. "Catholicism is not holy enough to be the Church of Jesus Christ; for see how terribly easy she is to those who outrage and _crucify Him afresh!_ Perhaps it may not be true after all, as we used to think, that the Catholic priest actually gives leave to his penitents to commit sin; but the extraordinary ease with which absolution is given comes very nearly to the same thing. So far from this Church having elevated the human race, she has actually lowered its standards by her attitude towards those of her children who disobey God's Laws. "And consider what some of these children of hers have been! Are there any criminals in history so monumental as Catholic criminals? Have any men ever fallen so low as, let us say, the Borgia family of the Middle Ages, as Gilles de Rais and a score of others, as men and women who were perhaps in their faith 'good Catholics' enough, yet in their lives a mere disgrace to humanity? Look at the Latin countries with their passionate records of crime, at the sexual immorality of France or Spain; the turbulence and thriftlessness of Ireland, the ignorant brutality of Catholic England. Are there any other denominations of Christendom that exhibit such deplorable specimens as the runaway nuns, the apostate priests, the vicious Popes of Catholicism? How is it that tales are told of the iniquities of Catholicism such as are told of no other of the sects of Christendom? Allow for all the exaggeration you like, all the prejudice of historians, all the spitefulness of enemies, yet there surely remains sufficient Catholic criminality to show that at the best the Church is no better than any other religious body, and at the worst, infinitely worse. The Catholic Church, then, is not holy enough to be the Church of Jesus Christ." II. When we turn to the Gospels we find that these two charges are, as a matter of fact, precisely among those which were brought against our Divine Lord. First, undoubtedly, He was hated for His Holiness. Who can doubt that the terrific standard of morality which He preached--the Catholic preaching of which also is one of the charges of the Pagan--was a principal cause of His rejection. For it was He, after all, who first proclaimed that the laws of God bind not only action but thought; it was He who first pronounced that man to be a murderer and an adulterer who in his heart willed these sins; it was He who summed up the standard of Christianity as a standard of perfection, _Be you perfect, as your Father in Heaven is perfect;_ who bade men aspire to be as good as God! It was His Holiness, then, that first drew on Him the hostility of the world--that radiant white-hot sanctity in which His Sacred Humanity went clothed. _Which of you convinceth me of sin?... Let him that is without sin amongst you cast the first stone at her!_ These were words that pierced the smooth formalism of the Scribe and the Pharisee and awoke an undying hatred. It was this, surely, that led up irresistibly to the final rejection of Him at the bar of Pilate and the choice of Barabbas in His place. "_Not this man!_ not this piece of stainless Perfection! Not this Sanctity that reveals all hearts, _but Barabbas_, that comfortable sinner so like ourselves! This robber in whose company we feel at ease! This murderer whose life, at any rate, is in no reproachful contrast to our own!" Jesus Christ was found too holy for the world. But He was found, too, not holy enough. And it is this explicit charge that is brought against Him again and again. It was dreadful to those keepers of the Law that this Preacher of Righteousness should sit with publicans and sinners; that this Prophet should allow such a woman as Magdalen to touch Him. If this man were indeed a Prophet, He could not bear the contact of sinners; if He were indeed zealous for God's Kingdom, He could not suffer the presence of so many who were its enemies. Yet He sits there at Zacchaeus' table, silent and smiling, instead of crying on the roof to fall in; He calls Matthew from the tax-office instead of blasting him and it together; He handles the leper whom God's own Law pronounces unclean. III. These, then, are the charges brought against the disciples of Christ, as against the Master, and it is undeniable that there is truth in them both. It is true that the Catholic Church preaches a morality that is utterly beyond the reach of human nature left to itself; that her standards are standards of perfection, and that she prefers even the lowest rung of the supernatural ladder to the highest rung of the natural. And it is also true, without doubt, that the fallen or the unfaithful Catholic is an infinitely more degraded member of humanity than the fallen Pagan or Protestant; that the monumental criminals of history are Catholic criminals, and that the monsters of the world--Henry VIII for example, sacrilegious, murderer, and adulterer; Martin Luther, whose printed table-talk is unfit for any respectable house; Queen Elizabeth, perjurer, tyrant, and unchaste--were persons who had had all that the Catholic Church could give them: the standards of her teaching, the guidance of her discipline, and the grace of her sacraments. What, then, is the reconciliation of this Paradox? (1) First the Catholic Church is Divine. She dwells, that is to say, in heavenly places; she looks always upon the Face of God; she holds enshrined in her heart the Sacred Humanity of Jesus Christ and the stainless perfection of that Immaculate Mother from whom that Humanity was drawn. How is it conceivable, then, that she should be content with any standard short of perfection? If she were a Society evolved from below--a merely human Society that is to say--she could never advance beyond those standards to which in the past her noblest children have climbed. But since there dwells in her the Supernatural--since Mary was endowed from on high with a gift to which no human being could ascend, since the Sun of Justice Himself came down from the heavens to lead a human life under human terms--how can she ever again be content with anything short of that height from which these came? (2) But she is also human, dwelling herself in the midst of humanity, placed here in the world for the express object of gathering into herself and of sanctifying by her graces that very world which has fallen from God. These outcasts and these sinners are the very material on which she has to work; these waste products of human life, these marred types and specimens of humanity have no hope at all except in her. For, first, she desires if she can--and she has often been able--actually to raise these, first to sanctity and then to her own altars; it is for her and her only to _raise the poor from the dunghill and to set them with the princes_. She sets before the Magdalen and the thief, then, nothing less but her own standard of perfection. Yet though in one sense she is satisfied with nothing lower than this, in another sense she is satisfied with almost infinitely nothing. If she can but bring the sinner within the very edge of grace; if she can but draw from the dying murderer one cry of contrition; if she can but turn his eyes with one look of love to the crucifix, her labours are a thousand times repaid; for, if she has not brought him to the head of sanctity, she has at least brought him to its foot and set him there beneath that ladder of the supernatural which reaches from hell to heaven. For she alone has this power. She alone is so utterly confident in the presence of the sinner because she alone has the secret of his cure. There in her confessional is the Blood of Christ that can make his soul clean again, and in her Tabernacle the Body of Christ that will be his food of eternal life. She alone dares be his friend because she alone can be his Saviour. If, then, her saints are one sign of her identity, no less are her sinners another. For not only is she the Majesty of God dwelling on earth, she is also His Love; and therefore its limitations, and they only, are hers. That Sun of mercy that shines and that Rain of charity that streams, _on just and unjust alike_, are the very Sun and Rain that give her life. If I _go up to Heaven she is there_, enthroned in Christ, on the Right Hand of God;_ if I go down to Hell she is there also_, drawing back souls from the brink from which she alone can rescue them. For she is that very ladder which Jacob saw so long ago, that staircase planted here in the blood and the slime of earth, rising there into the stainless Light of the Lamb. Holiness and unholiness are both alike hers and she is ashamed of neither--the holiness of her own Divinity which is Christ's and the unholiness of those outcast members of her Humanity to whom she ministers. By her power, then, which again is Christ's, the Magdalen becomes the Penitent; the thief the first of the redeemed; and Peter, the yielding sand of humanity, the _Rock on which Herself is built_. IV JOY AND SORROW _Rejoice and be exceeding glad.... Blessed are they that mourn_.-- MATT. V. 12, 5. The Catholic Church, as has been seen, is always too "extreme" for the world. She is content with nothing but a Divine Peace, and in its cause is the occasion of bloodier wars than any waged from merely human motives. She is not content with mere goodness, but urges always Sanctity upon her children; yet simultaneously tolerates sinners whom even the world casts out. Let us consider now how, in fulfilling these two apparently mutually contradictory precepts of our Lord, to rejoice and to mourn, once more she appears to the world extravagant in both directions at once. I. It is a common charge against her that she rejoices too exceedingly; is arrogant, confident, and optimistic where she ought to be quiet, subdued, and tender. "This world," exclaims her critic, "is on the whole a very sad and uncertain place. There is no silver lining that has not a cloud before it; there is no hope that may not, after all, be disappointed. Any religion, then, that claims to be adequate to human nature must always have something of sadness and even hesitancy about it. Religion must walk softly all her days if she is to walk hand in hand with experience. Death is certain; is life as certain? The function of religion, then, is certainly to help to lighten this darkness, yet not by too great a blaze of light. She may hope and aspire and guess and hint; in fact, that is her duty. But she must not proclaim and denounce and command. She must be suggestive rather than exhaustive; tender rather than virile; hopeful rather than positive; experimental rather than dogmatic. "Now Catholicism is too noisy and confident altogether. See a Catholic liturgical function on some high day! Was there ever anything more arrogant? What has this blaze of colour, this shouting of voices, this blowing of trumpets to do with the soft half-lights of the world and the mystery of the darkness from which we came and to which we return? What has this clearcut dogma to do with the gentle guesses of philosophy, this optimism with the uncertainty of life and the future--above all, what sympathy has this preposterous exultation with the misery of the world? "And how unlike, too, all this is to the spirit of the Man of Sorrows! We read that _Jesus wept_, but never that He laughed. His was a sad life, from the dark stable of Bethlehem to the darker hill of Calvary. He was what He was because He knew what sorrow meant; it was in His sorrows that He has touched the heart of humanity. '_Blessed_,' he says, '_are those that mourn_.' Blessed are they that expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed." In another mood, however, our critic will find fault with our sadness. "Why is not the religion of you Catholics more in accord with the happy world in which we live? Surely the supreme function of religion is to hearten and encourage and lay stress on the bright side of life! It should be brief, bright, and brotherly. For, after all, this is a lovely world and full of gaiety. It is true that it has its shadows, yet there can be no shadows without a sun; there is death, but see how life continually springs again from the grave. Since all things, therefore, work together for good; since God has taken pains to make the world so sweet, it is but a poor compliment to the Creator to treat it as a vale of misery. Let us, then, make the best of things and forget the worst. Let us leave the things that are behind and press forward to the things that are before. Let us insist that the world is white with a few black spots upon it, be optimistic, happy, and confident. "You Catholics, however, are but a poor-spirited, miserable race. While other denominations are, little by little, eliminating melancholy, you are insisting upon it. While the rest of us are agreeing that Hell is but a bogy, and sin a mistake, and suffering no more than remedial, you Catholics are still insisting upon their reality--that Hell is eternal, that sin is the deliberate opposition of the human will to the Divine, and that suffering therefore is judicial. Sin, Penance, Sacrifice, Purgatory, and Hell--these are the old nightmares of dogma; and their fruits are tears, pain, and terror. What is wrong with Catholicism, then, is its gloom and its sorrow; for this is surely not the Christianity of Christ as we are now learning to understand it. Christ, rightly understood, is the Man of joy, not of Grief. He is more characteristic of Himself, so to speak, as the smiling shepherd of Galilee, surrounded by His sheep; as the lover of children and flowers and birds; as the Preacher of Life and Resurrection--He is more characteristic of Himself as crowned, ascended, and glorified, than as the blood-stained martyr of the Cross whom you set above your altars. _Rejoice, then, and be exceeding glad_, and you will please Him best." Once more, then, we appear to be in the wrong, to whatever side we turn. The happy red-faced monk with his barrel of beer is a caricature of our joy. Can this, it is asked, be a follower of the Man of Sorrows? And the long-faced ascetic with his eyes turned up to heaven is the world's conception of our sorrow. Catholic joy and Catholic sorrow are alike too ardent and extreme for a world that delights in moderation in both sorrow and joy--a little melancholy, but not too much; a little cheerfulness, but not excessive. II. First, then, it is interesting to remember that these charges are not now being made against us for the first time. In the days even of the Roman Empire they were thought to be signs of Christian inhumanity. "These Christians," it was said, "must surely be bewitched. See how they laugh at the rack and the whip and go to the arena as to a bridal bed! See how Lawrence jests upon his gridiron." And yet again, "They must be bewitched, because of their morbidity and their love of darkness, the enemies of joy and human mirth and common pleasure. In either case they are not true men at all." Their extravagance of joy when others would be weeping, and their extravagance of sorrow when all the world is glad--these are the very signs to which their enemies appealed as proofs that a power other than that of this world was inspiring them, as proofs that they could not be the simple friends of the human race that they dared to pretend. It is even more interesting to remember that our Divine Lord Himself calls attention to these charges. "_The Son of Man comes eating and drinking._ The Son of Man sits at the wedding feast at Cana and at meat in the rich man's house and you say, _Behold a glutton and a winebibber!_ The Son of Man comes rejoicing and you bid Him to be sad. And _John the Baptist came neither eating nor drinking._ John the Baptist comes from the desert, an ascetic with his camel-hair about him and words of penance and wrath in his mouth, and you say, _He hath a devil.... We have piped unto you and you have not danced_. We have played at weddings like children in a market-place, and you have told us to be quiet and think about our sins. _We have mourned unto_ you, we have asked you to play at funerals instead, and you have told us that it was morbid to think about death. _We have mourned and you would not lament._" III. The fact is, of course, that both joy and sorrow must be an element in all religion, since joy and sorrow together make up experience. The world is neither white with black spots nor black with white spots; it is black and white. It is quite as true that autumn follows summer as that spring follows winter. It is no less true that life arises out of death than that death follows life. Religion then cannot, if it is to be adequate to experience, be a passionless thing. On the contrary it must be passionate, since human nature is passionate too; and it must be a great deal more passionate. It must not moderate grief, but deepen it; not banish joy, but exalt it. It must weep--and bitterer tears than any that the world can shed--with them that weep; and rejoice too--with _a joy which no man can take away_--with them that rejoice. It must sink deeper and rise higher, it must feel more acutely, it must agonize and triumph more abundantly, if it truly comes from God and is to minister to men, since His thoughts are higher than ours and His Love more burning. For so did Christ live on earth. At one hour He _rejoiced greatly in spirit_ so that those that watched Him were astonished; at another He sweated blood for anguish. In one hour He is exalted high on the blazing Mount of Transfiguration; in another He is plunged deeper than any human heart can fathom in the low-lying garden of Gethsemane. _Behold and see if there be any sorrow like to My Sorrow._ III. For, again, the Church, like her Lord, is both Divine and Human. She is Divine and therefore she rejoices--so filled with the New Wine of the Kingdom of her Father that men stare at her in contempt. It is true enough that the world is unhappy; that hearts are broken; that families, countries, and centuries are laid waste by sin. Yet since the Church is Divine, she knows, not merely guesses or hopes or desires, but _knows_, that _although all things come to an end, God's commandment is exceeding broad_. Years ago, she knows--and therefore not all the criticism in the world can shake her--that her Lord came down from heaven, was born, died, rose, and ascended, and that He reigns in unconquerable power. She knows that He will return again and take the kingdom and reign; she knows, because she is Divine, that in every tabernacle of hers on earth the Lord of joy lies hidden; that Mary intercedes; that the saints are with God; that _the Blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin_. Look round her earthly buildings, then, and there are the symbols and images of these things. There is the merry light before her altar; there are the saints stiff with gold and gems; there is Mary, "Cause of our Joy," radiant, with her radiant Child in her arms. If she were but human, she would dare but to shadow these things forth--shadows of her own desires; she would whisper her creed; murmur her prayers; darken her windows. But she is Divine and has herself come down from heaven; so she does not guess, or think, or hope--she knows. But she is human too and dwells in the midst of a human race that does not know and therefore will not wholly take her at her word, and the very height of her exaltation must also be, then, the measure of her despair. The fact that she knows so certainly intensifies a thousandfold her human sorrow, as she, who has _come that they may have life_, sees how _they will not come_ to her and find it, as she sees how long the triumph which is certain is yet delayed through their faithlessness. "If _thou hadst known_," she cries in the heart-broken words of Jesus Himself over Jerusalem, "_if thou hadst but known the things that belong to thy peace! Behold and see, then, if there be any sorrow like to mine_, if there be any grief so profound and so piercing as mine, who hold the Keys of Heaven and watch men turn away from the Door." So, then, in church after church stand symbolic groups of statuary, representing joy and tragedy, compared with which Venus and Adonis are but childish and half-civilized images--Mary as triumphant Queen, with the gold-crowned Child in her arms, and Mary the tormented Mother, with her dead Son across her knees. For she who is both Divine and Human alone understands what it is that Humanity has done to Divinity. Is it any wonder, then, that the world thinks her extravagant in both directions at once; that the world turns away on Good Friday from the unutterable depths of her sorrow, and on Easter Day from the unscalable heights of her joy, calling the one morbid and the other hysterical? For what does the world know of such passions as these? What, after all, can the sensualist know of joy, or the ruined financier of sorrow? And what can the moderate, self-controlled, self-respecting man of the world know of either? Lastly, then, in the Paradox of Love, the Church holds both these passions, at full blast, both at once. As human love turns joy into pain and suffers in the midst of ecstasy, so Divine Love turns pain into joy and exults and reigns upon the Cross. For the Church is more than the Majesty of God reigning on earth, more than the passionless love of the Eternal; she is the Very Sacred Heart of Christ Himself, the Eternal united with Man, and both suffering and rejoicing through that union. It is His bliss which she at once experiences and extends, in virtue of her identity with Him; and in the midst of a fallen world it is the supremest bliss of that Sacred Heart to suffer pain. V LOVE OF GOD AND LOVE OF MAN _Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart ... and thy neighbour as thyself_.--LUKE x. 27. We have already considered two charges brought against Catholicism from opposite quarters; namely, that we are too worldly and too otherworldly, too much busied with temporal concerns to be truly spiritual, and too metaphysical and remote and dogmatic to be truly practical. Let us go on to consider these same two charges produced, so to speak, a little further into a more definitely spiritual plane; charges that now accuse us of too great activities in our ministry to men and too many attentions paid to God. I. (i) It is a very common complaint against Catholics, laymen as well as clergy, that they are overzealous in their attempts to proselytize. True and spiritual religion, we are told, is as intimate and personal an affair as the love between husband and wife; it is essentially private and individual. "The religion of all sensible men," it has been said, "is precisely that which they always keep to themselves." Tolerance, therefore, is a mark of spirituality, for if I am truly religious I shall have as much respect for the religion of my neighbour as for my own. I shall no more seek to interfere in his relations with God than I shall allow him to interfere with mine. Now Catholics are notoriously intolerant. It is not merely that there are intolerant Catholics, for intolerance is of course to be found in all narrow-minded persons, but it is Catholic principles themselves that are intolerant; and every Catholic who lives up to them is bound to be so also. And we can see this illustrated every day. First, there is the matter of Catholic missions to the heathen. There are no missionaries, we are told, so untiring and so devoted as those of the Church. Their zeal, of course, is a proof of their sincerity; but it is also a proof of their intolerance: for why, after all, cannot they leave the heathen alone, since religion is, in its essence, a private and individual matter? Beautiful pictures, accordingly, are suggested to us of the domestic peace and happiness reigning amongst the tribes of Central Africa until the arrival of the Preaching Friar with his destructive dogmas. We are bidden to observe the high doctrines and the ascetic life of the Brahmin, the significant symbolism of the Hindu, and the philosophical attitudes of the Confucian. All these various relationships to God are, we are informed, entirely the private affairs of those who live by them; and if Catholics were truly spiritual they would understand that this was so and not seek to supplant by a system which is now, at any rate, become an essentially European way of looking at things, these ancient creeds and philosophies that are far better suited to the Oriental temperament. But the matter is worse, even, than this. It may conceivably be argued, says the modern man of the world, that after all those Oriental religions have not developed such virtues and graces as has Christianity. It may perhaps be argued that in time the religion of the West, if missionaries will persevere, will raise the Hindu higher than his own obscenities have succeeded in doing, and that the civilization produced by Christianity is actually of a higher type, in spite of its evil by-products, than that of the head-hunters of Borneo and the bloody savages of Africa. But at any rate there is no excuse whatever for the intolerant Catholic proselytizer in English homes. For, roughly speaking, it is only the Catholic whom you cannot trust in your own home circle; sooner or later you will find him, if he at all lives up to his principles, insinuating the praises of his own faith and the weaknesses of your own; your sons and daughters he considers to be fair game; he thinks nothing of your domestic peace in comparison with the propagation of his own tenets. He is characterized, first and last, by that dogmatic and intolerant spirit that is the exact contrary of all that the modern world deems to be the spirit of true Christianity. True Christianity, then, as has been said, is essentially a private, personal, and individual matter between each soul and her God. (ii) The second charge brought against Catholics is that they make religion far too personal, too private, and too intimate for it to be considered the religion of Jesus Christ. And this is illustrated by the supreme value which the Church places upon what is known as the Contemplative Life. For if there is one element in Catholicism that the man-in-the-street especially selects for reprobation it is the life of the Enclosed Religious. It is supposed to be selfish, morbid, introspective, unreal; it is set in violent dramatic contrast with the ministerial Life of Jesus Christ. A quantity of familiar eloquence is solemnly poured out upon it as if nothing of the kind had ever been said before: it is said that "a man cannot get away from the world by shutting himself up in a monastery"; that "a man should not think about his own soul so much, but rather of what good he can do in the world in which God has placed him"; that "four whitewashed walls" are not the proper environment for a philanthropic Christian. And yet, after all, what is the Contemplative Life except precisely that which the world just now recommended? And could religion possibly be made a more intimate, private, and personal matter between the soul and God than the Carthusian or Carmelite makes it? The fact is, of course, that Catholics are wrong whatever they do--too extreme in everything which they undertake. They are too active and not retired enough in their proselytism; too retired and not active enough in their Contemplation. II. Now the Life of our Divine Lord exhibits, of course, both the Active and the Contemplative elements that have always distinguished the Life of His Church. For three years He set Himself to the work of preaching His Revelation and establishing the Church that was to be its organ through all the centuries. He went about, therefore, freely and swiftly, now in town, now in country. He laid down His Divine principles and presented His Divine credentials, at marriage feasts, in market-places, in country roads, in crowded streets, and in private houses. He wrought the works of mercy, spiritual and corporal, that were to be the types of all works of mercy ever afterwards. He gave spiritual and ascetic teaching on the Mount of Beatitudes, dogmatic instructions in Capharnaum and the wilderness to the east of Galilee, and mystical discourses in the Upper Chamber of Jerusalem and the temple courts. His activities and His proselytisms were unbounded. He broke up domestic circles and the routine of offices. He called the young man from his estates and Matthew from custom-house and James and John from their father's fishing business. He made a final demonstration of His unlimited claim on humanity in His Procession on Palm Sunday, and on Ascension Day ratified and commissioned the proselytizing activities of His Church for ever in His tremendous charge to the Apostolic band. _Going, therefore, teach ye all nations ... teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you; and behold I am with you all the days, even to the consummation of the world._ Yet this, it must be remembered, was not only not the whole of His Life on earth, it was not even a very considerable part of it, if reckoned by years. For three years He was active, but for thirty He was retired in the house of Nazareth; and even those three years are again and again broken by retirement. He is now in the wilderness for forty days, now on the mountain all night in prayer, now bidding His disciples come apart and rest themselves. The very climax of His ministry too was wrought in silence and solitude. He removed Himself _about a stone's throw_ in the garden of Gethsemane from those who loved Him best; He broke His silence on the Cross to bid farewell even to His holy Mother herself. Above all, he explicitly and emphatically commended the Life of Contemplative Prayer as the highest that can be lived on earth, telling Martha that activity, even in the most necessary duties, was not after all the best use to which time and love could be put, but rather that _Mary had chosen the best part ... the one thing that is necessary_, and that it _shall not be taken away from her_ even by a sister's loving zeal. Finally, fault was found with Jesus Christ, as with His Church, on precisely these two points. When He was living the life of retirement in the country He was rebuked that He did not go up to the feast and state His claims plainly--justify, that is, by activity, His pretensions to the Messiahship; and when He did so, He was entreated to bid his acclaimants _to hold their peace_--to justify, that is, by humility and retirement, His pretensions to spirituality. III. The reconciliation, therefore, of these two elements in the Catholic system is very easy to find. (i) First, it is the Church's Divinity that accounts for her passion for God. To her as to none else on earth is the very face of God revealed as the Absolute and Final Beauty that lies beyond the limits of all Creation. She in her Divinity enjoys it may be said, even in her sojourn on earth, that very Beatific Vision that enraptured always the Sacred Humanity of Jesus Christ. With all the company of heaven then, with Mary Immaculate, with the Seraphim and with the glorified saints of God, she _endures, seeing Him Who is invisible_. Even while the eyes of her humanity are held, while her human members _walk by faith and not by sight_, she, in her Divinity, which is the guaranteed Presence of Jesus Christ in her midst, already _dwells in heavenly places_ and is already _come to Mount Zion and the City of the living God and to God Himself_, Who is the Light in which all fair things are seen to be fair. Is it any wonder then that, now and again, some chosen child of hers catches a mirrored glimpse of what she herself beholds with unveiled face; that some Catholic soul, now and again, chosen and called by God to this amazing privilege, should suddenly perceive, as never before, that God is the one and only Absolute Beauty, and that, compared with the contemplation of this Beauty--which contemplation is, after all, the final life of Eternity to which every redeemed soul shall come--all the activities of earthly life are nothing; and that, in her passion for this adorable God, she should run into a secret room and _shut the door and pray to her Father Who is in secret_, and so remain praying, a hidden channel of life to the whole of that Body of which she is a member, an intercessor for the whole of that Society of which she is one unit? There in silence, then, she sits at Jesus' feet and listens to the Voice which is _as the sound of many waters_; in the whiteness of her cell watches Him Whose _Face is as a Flame of Fire_, and in austerity and fasting _tastes and finds that the Lord is gracious._ Of course this is but madness and folly to those who know God only in His Creation, who imagine Him merely as the Soul of the World and the Vitality of Created Life. To such as these earth is His highest Heaven and the beauty of the world the noblest vision that can be conceived. Yet to that soul that is Catholic, who understands that the Eternal Throne is indeed above the stars and that the Transcendence of God is as fully a truth as His Immanence--that God in Himself, apart from all that He has made, is all-fair and all-sufficient in His own Beauty--to such a soul as this, if called to such a life, there is no need that the Church should declare explicitly that the Contemplative Life is the highest. She knows it already. (ii) The _First Great Commandment_ of the Law, then, is inevitably followed by the Second, and the Catholic interpretation of the Second is thought by the world, which understands neither, to be as extravagant as her interpretation of the First. For this Divine Church that knows God is also a Human Society that dwells among men, and since she in herself unites Divinity and Humanity, she cannot rest until she has united them everywhere else. For, as she turns her eyes from God to men, she sees there immortal souls, made in the image of God and made for Him and Him alone, seeking to satisfy themselves with Creation instead of with the Creator. She hears how the world preaches the sanctity of the temperament, and the holiness of the individual point of view, as if there were no Transcendent God at all and no objective external Revelation ever made by Him. She sees how men, instead of seeking to conform themselves to God's Revelation of Himself, attempt rather to conform such fragments of that Revelation as have reached them to their own points of view; she listens to talk about "aspects of truth" and "schools of thought" and the "values of experience" as if God had never spoken either in the thunders of Sinai or the still voice of Galilee. Is it any wonder, then, that her Proselytism appears to such a world as extravagant as her Contemplation, her passion for men as unreasonable as her passion for God, when that world sees her bring herself from her cloisters and her secret places to proclaim as with a trumpet those demands of God which He has made known, those Laws which He has promulgated, and those rewards which He has promised? For how can she do otherwise who has looked on the all-glorious Face of God and then on the vacant and complacent faces of men--she who knows God's infinite capacity for satisfying men and men's all but infinite incapacity for seeking God--when she sees some poor soul shutting herself up indeed within the deadly and chilly walls of her own "temperament" and "individual point of view," when earth and heaven and the Lord of them both is waiting for her outside? The Church, then, is too much interested in men and too much absorbed in God. Of course she is too much interested and too much absorbed, for she alone knows the value and capacity of both; she who is herself both Divine and Human. For Religion, to her, is not an elegant accomplishment or a graceful philosophy or a pleasing scheme of conjectures. It is the fiery bond between God and man, neither of whom can be satisfied without the other, the One in virtue of His Love and the other in virtue of his createdness. She alone, then, understands and reconciles the tremendous Paradox of the Law that is Old as well as New. _Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart ... and thy neighbour as thyself _. VI FAITH AND REASON _Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall not enter into it_.--MARK X. 15. _Some things hard to be understood, which the unlearned and the unstable wrest, as also the other Scriptures, to their own perdition_.-- II PET. III. 16. There are two great gifts, or faculties, by which men attain to truth: faith and reason. From these two sides, therefore, come two more assaults upon the Catholic position, a position which itself faces in both these directions. On the one side we are told that we believe too simply, on the other that we do not believe simply enough; on the one side that we reason too little, on the other that we do not reason enough. Let us set out these attacks in order. I. (i) "You Catholics," says one critic, "are far too credulous in matters of religion. You believe, not as reasonable men believe, because you have verified or experienced the truths you profess, but simply because these dogmas are presented to you by the Church. If reason and common-sense are gifts of God and intended for use, surely it is very strange to silence them in your search for the supreme truth. Faith, of course, has its place, but it must not be blind faith. Reason must test, verify, and interpret, or faith is mere credulity. "Consider, for example, the words of Christ, _This is My Body_. Now the words as they stand may certainly be supposed to mean what you say they mean; yet, interpreted by Reason, they cannot possibly mean anything of the kind. Did not Christ Himself sit in bodily form at the table as He spoke them? How then could He hold Himself in His hand? Did He not speak in metaphors and images continually? Did He not call Himself _a Door and a Vine_? Using Reason, then, to interpret these words, it is evident that He meant no more than that He was instituting a memorial feast, in which the bread should symbolize His Body and the wine His Blood. So too with many other distinctively Catholic doctrines--with the Petrine claims, with the authority 'to bind and loose,' and the rest. Catholic belief on these points exhibits not faith properly so-called--that is, Faith tested by Reason--but mere credulity. God gave us all Reason! Then in His Name let us use it!" (ii) From the other side comes precisely the opposite charge. "You Catholics," cries the other critic, "are far too argumentative and deductive and logical in your Faith. True Religion is a very simple thing; it is the attitude of a child who trusts and does not question. But with you Catholics Religion has degenerated into Theology. Jesus Christ did not write a _Summa_; He made a few plain statements which comprise, as they stand, the whole Christian Religion; they are full of mystery, no doubt, but it is He who left them mysterious. Why, then, should your theologians seek to penetrate into regions which He did not reveal and to elaborate what He left unelaborated? "Take, for example, Christ's words, _This is My Body_. Now of course these words are mysterious, and if Christ had meant that they should be otherwise, He would Himself have given the necessary comment upon them. Yet He did not; He left them in an awful and deep simplicity into which no human logic ought even to seek to penetrate. Yet see the vast and complicated theology that the traditions have either piled upon them or attempted to extract out of them; the philosophical theories by which it has been sought to elucidate them; the intricate and wide-reaching devotions that have been founded upon them! What have words like 'Transubstantiation' and 'Concomitance,' devotions like 'Benediction,' gatherings like Eucharistic Congresses to do with the august simplicity of Christ's own institution? You Catholics argue too much--deduce, syllogize, and explain--until the simple splendour of Christ's mysterious act is altogether overlaid and hidden. Be more simple! It is better to _'love God than to discourse learnedly about the Blessed Trinity.' It has not pleased God to save His people through dialectics._ Believe more, argue less!" Once more, then, the double charge is brought. We believe, it seems, where we ought to reason. We reason where we ought to believe. We believe too blindly and not blindly enough. We reason too closely and not closely enough. Here, then, is a vast subject--the relations of Faith and Reason and the place of each in man's attitude towards Truth. It is, of course, possible only to glance at these things in outline. II. First, let us consider, as a kind of illustration, the relations of these things in ordinary human science. Neither Faith nor Reason will, of course, be precisely the same as in supernatural matters; yet there will be a sufficient parallel for our purpose. A scientist, let us say, proposes to make observations upon the structure of a fly's leg. He catches his fly, dissects, prepares, places it in his microscope, observes, and records. Now here, it would seem, is Pure Science at its purest and Reason in its most reasonable aspect. Yet the acts of faith in this very simple process are, if we consider closely, simply numberless. The scientist must make acts of faith, certainly reasonable acts, yet none the less of faith, for all that: first, that his fly is not a freak of nature; next, that his lens is symmetrically ground; then that his observation is adequate; then that his memory has not played him false between his observing and his recording that which he has seen. These acts are so reasonable that we forget that they are acts of faith. They are justified by reason before they are made, and they are usually, though not invariably, verified by Reason afterwards. Yet they are, in their essence, Faith and not Reason. So, too, when a child learns a foreign language. Reason justifies him in making one act of faith that his teacher is competent, another that his grammar is correct, a third that he hears and sees and understands correctly the information given him, a fourth that such a language actually exists. And when he visits France afterwards he can, within limits, again verify by his reason the acts of faith which he has previously made. Yet none the less they were acts of faith, though they were reasonable. In a word, then, no acquirement of or progress in any branch of human knowledge is possible without the exercise of faith. I cannot walk downstairs in the dark without at least as many acts of faith as there are steps in the staircase. Society could not hold together another day if mutual faith were wholly wanting among its units. Certainly we use reason first to justify our faith, and we reason later to verify it. Yet none the less the middle step is faith. Columbus reasoned first that there must be a land beyond the Atlantic, and he used that same reason later to verify his discovery. Yet without a sublime act of faith between these processes, without that almost reckless moment in which he first weighed anchor from Europe, reason would never have gone beyond speculative theorizing. Faith made real for him what Reason suggested. Faith actually accomplished that of which Reason could only dream. III. Turn now to the coming of Jesus Christ on earth. He came, as we know now, a Divine Teacher from heaven to make a Revelation from God; He came, that is, to demand from men a sublime Act of Faith in Himself. For He Himself was Incarnate Wisdom, and He demanded, therefore, as none else can demand it, a supreme acceptance of His claim. No progress in Divine knowledge, as He Himself tells us, is possible, then, without this initial act. _Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall not enter into it_. Every soul that is to receive this teaching in its entirety must first accept the Teacher and sit at His feet. Yet He did not make this claim merely on His own unsupported word. He presented His credentials, so to say; He fulfilled prophecy; He wrought miracles; He satisfied the moral sense. _Believe Me_, He says, _for the very works' sake_. Before, then, demanding the fundamental act of Faith on which the reception of Revelation must depend, He took pains to make this Act of Faith reasonable. "You see what I do," He said in effect, "you have observed My life, My words, My actions. Now is it not in accordance with Reason that you should grant My claims? Can you explain away, _reasonably_, on any other grounds than those which I state, the phenomena of My life?" Certainly, then, He appealed to Reason; He appealed to Private Judgment, since that, up to that moment, was all that His hearers possessed. But, in demanding an Act of Faith, He appealed to Private Judgment to set itself aside; He appealed to Reason as to whether it were not Reasonable to stand aside for the moment and let Faith take its place. And we know how His disciples responded. _Whom do you say that I am?... Thou art the Christ, the Son of the Living God._ At that instant, then, a new stage was begun. They had used their Reason and their Private Judgment, and, aided by His grace, had concluded that the next reasonable step was that of Faith. Up to that point they had observed, dissected, criticized, and analyzed His words; they had examined, that is, His credentials. And now it was Reason itself that urged them towards Faith, Reason that abdicated what had hitherto been, its right and its duty, that Faith might assume her proper place. Henceforth, then, their attitude must be a different one. Up to now they had used their Reason to examine His claim; now it was Faith, aided and urged by Reason, which accepted it. Yet even now Reason's work is not done, though its scope in future is changed. Reason no longer examines whether He be God; Faith has accepted it: yet Reason has to be as active as ever; for Reason now must begin with all its might the task of understanding His Revelation. Faith has given them, so to speak, casket after casket of jewels; every word that Jesus Christ henceforth speaks to them is a very mine of treasure, absolutely true since He is known to be a Divine Teacher Who has given it. And Reason now begins her new work, not of justifying Faith, but, so to say, of interpreting it; not of examining His claims, since these have been once for all accepted, but of examining, understanding, and assimilating all that He reveals. III. Turn now to Catholicism. It is the Catholic Church, and the Catholic Church only, that acts as did Jesus Christ and offers an adequate object to Reason and Faith alike. For, first, it is evident that if Christ intended His Revelation to last through all time, He must have designed a means by which it should last, an Authority that should declare and preserve it as He Himself delivered it. And next, it is evident that since the Catholic Church alone even claims that prerogative, clearly and coherently, her right to represent that Authority is in proportion to the clearness and coherence of her claim. Or, again, she advances in support of that claim precisely those same credentials as did He: she points to her miracles, her achievements, the fulfilment of prophecy, the unity of her teaching, the appeal to men's moral sense--all of them appeals to Reason, and appeals which lead up, as did His, to the supreme claim, which He also made, to demand an Act of Faith in herself as a Divine Teacher. For she alone demands it. Other denominations of Christendom point to a Book, or to the writings of Fathers, or to the example of their members, and she too does these things. But it is she alone who appeals to these things not as final in themselves, not as constituting in themselves a final court of appeal, but as indicating as that court of appeal her own Living Voice. _Believe me, for the works' sake_, she too says. "Use your reason to the full to examine my credentials; study prophecy, history, the Fathers--study my claims in any realm in which your intellect is competent--and then see if it is not after all supremely reasonable for Reason to abdicate that particular throne on which she has sat so long and to seat Faith there instead? Certainly follow your Reason and use your private judgment, for at present you have no other guide; and then, please God, aided by Faith, Reason will itself bow before Faith, and take her own place henceforth, not on the throne, but on the steps that lead to it." Is Reason, then, to be silent henceforth? Why, the whole of theology gives the answer. Did Newman cease to think when he became a Catholic? Did Thomas Aquinas resign his intellect when he devoted himself to study? Not for one instant is Reason silent. On the contrary, she is active as never before. Certainly she is no longer occupied in examining as to whether the Church is divine, but instead she is busied, with incredible labours, in examining what follows from that fact, in sorting the new treasures that are opened to her with the dawn of Revelation upon her eyes, in arranging, deducting, and understanding the details and structure of the astonishing Vision of Truth. And more, she is as inviolate as ever. For never can there be presented to her one article of Faith that gives the lie to her own nature, since Revelation and Reason cannot contradict one the other. She has learned, indeed, that the mysteries of God often transcend her powers, that she cannot fathom the infinite with the finite; yet never for one moment is she bidden to evacuate her own position or believe that which she perceives to be untrue. She has learned her limitations, and with that has come to understand her inviolable rights. See, then, how the features of Christ look out through the lineaments of His Church. She alone dares to claim an act of Divine Faith in herself, since it is He Who speaks in her Voice. She alone, since she is Divine, bids the wisest men _become as little children_ at her feet and endows little children with the wisdom of the ancients. Yet, on the other hand, in her magnificent Humanity, she has produced through the exercise of illuminated human Reason such a wealth of theology as the world has never seen. Is it any wonder that the world thinks both her Faith and Reason alike too extreme? For her Faith rises from her Divinity and her Reason from her Humanity; and such an outpouring of Divinity and such an emphatic Humanity, such a superb confidence in God's revelation and such untiring labours upon the contents of that Revelation, are altogether beyond the imagination of a world that in reality, fears both Faith and Reason alike. At her feet, and hers only, then, do the wisest and the simple kneel together--St. Thomas and the child, St. Augustine and the "charcoal burner"; as diverse, in their humanity, as men can be; as united in the light of Divinity as only those can be who have found it. So, then, she goes forward to victory. "First use your reason," she cries to the world, "to see whether I be not Divine! Then, impelled by Reason and aided by Grace, rise to Faith. Then once more call up your Reason, to verify and understand those mysteries which you accept as true. And so, little by little, vistas of truth will open about you and doctrines glow with an undreamed-of light. So Faith will be interpreted by Reason and Reason hold up the hands of Faith, until you come indeed to the unveiled vision of the Truth whose feet already you grasp in love and adoration; until you see, face to face in Heaven, Him Who is at once the Giver of Reason and the _Author of Faith_." VII AUTHORITY AND LIBERTY _The truth shall make you free_.--JOHN VIII. 32. _Bringing into captivity every understanding to the obedience of Christ_.--II COR. X. 5. We have already considered in outline the relations between Faith and Reason; how each, in its own province, is supreme and how each, in its turn, supports and ratifies the other. We pass on to a development of that theme, springing almost immediately out of it, namely, the relations between Authority and Liberty. And we will begin that consideration, as before, as it is illustrated by the accusations of the world against the Church. Briefly they are stated as follows. I. Freedom, we are told, is the note of Christianity as laid down in the Gospels, in both discipline and doctrine. Jesus Christ came into the world largely for this very purpose, to substitute the New Law for the Old and thereby to free men from the complicated theology and the minutia of religious routine which characterized men's attempts to reduce that Old Law to practice. The Old Law may or may not have been perfectly adapted, when first it was given, to the needs of God's people in the early stages of Jewish civilization; but at any rate it is certain, from a hundred texts in the Gospel, that Jesus Christ in His day found it an intolerable slavery laid upon the religious life of the people. Theology had degenerated into an incredible hair-splitting system of dogma, and discipline had degenerated into a multitude of irritating observances. Jesus Christ, then, in the place of all this, preached a Creed that was essentially simple, and simultaneously substituted for the elaborate ceremonialism of the Pharisees the spirit of liberty. The dogma that He preached was little more than that God is the Father of all and that all men therefore are brothers; "discipline" in the ordinary sense of the word is practically absent from the Gospel, and as for ceremonial there is none, except such as is necessary for the performance of the two extremely simple rites that He instituted, Baptism and the Lord's Supper. Now this supposed spirit of liberty, we are informed, is to-day to be found only in Protestantism. In that system, if it can strictly be called one, and in that system only, may a man exercise that freedom which was secured to him by Jesus Christ. First, in doctrine, he may choose, weigh, and examine for himself, within the wide limits which alone Christ laid down, those doctrines or hopes which commend themselves to his intellect; and next, in matters of discipline, again, he may choose for himself those ways of life and action that he may find helpful to his spiritual development. He may worship, for example, in any church that he prefers, attend those services and those only which commend themselves to his taste; he may eat or not eat this or that food, as he likes, and order his day, generally, as it pleases him. And all this, we are informed, is of the very spirit of New Testament Christianity. _The Truth has made him free_, as Christ Himself promised. The Catholic Church, on the other hand, is essentially a Church of slavery. First, in discipline, an enormous weight of observances and duties is laid upon her children, comparable only to the Pharisaic system. The Catholic must worship in this church and not in that, in this manner and not in the other. He must observe places and days and times, and that not only in religious matters but in secular. He must eat this food on this day and that on the other; he must frequent the sacraments at specified periods; he must perform certain actions and refrain from others, and that in matters in themselves indifferent. In dogma, too, no less is the burden that he must bear. Not only are the simple words of Christ developed into a vast theological system by the Church's officials, but the whole of this system is laid, as of faith, down to its minutest details, on the shoulders of the unhappy believer. He may not choose between this or that theory of the mode of Christ's Presence in the Eucharist; he must accept precisely that, and no other, which his Church has elaborated. In fact, in doctrine and in discipline alike, the Church has gone back to precisely that old reign of tyranny which Christ abolished. The Catholic, unlike the Protestant who has retained the spirit of liberty, finds himself in the same case as that under which Israel itself once groaned. He is a slave and not a child; he binds his own limbs, as the old phrase says, by his act of faith and puts the other end of the chain into the hands of the priest. Such, in outline, is the charge against us. * * * * * Now much of it is so false that it needs no refutation. It is, for example, entirely false that New Testament theology is simple. It is far more true to say that, compared with the systematized theology of the Church, it is bewilderingly complex and puzzling, and how complex and puzzling it is, is indicated by the hundreds of creeds which Protestants have made out of it, each creed claiming, respectively, to be its one and only proper interpretation. Men have only come to think it "simple" in modern days by desperately eliminating from it every element on which all Protestants are not agreed. The residuum is indeed "simple." Only it is not the New Testament theology! Dogmas such as that of the Blessed Trinity, of the Procession of the Holy Ghost, of the nature of grace and of sin--these, whether as held by orthodox or unorthodox, are at any rate not simple, and it is merely untrue to say that Christ made no statements on these points, however they may be understood. Further, it is merely untrue to say that Protestant theology is "simple"; it is every whit as elaborate as Catholic theology and considerably more complex in those points in which Protestant divines are not agreed. The controversies on Justification in which such men as Calvin and Luther, with their disciples, continually engaged are fully as complicated as any disputations on Grace between Jesuits and Dominicans. Yet the general contention is plain enough--that on the whole the Catholic is bound to believe a certain set of dogmas, while the Protestant is free to accept or reject them. Therefore, it is argued, the Protestant is "free" and the Catholic is not. And this brings us straight to the consideration of the relations between Authority and Liberty. II. What, then, is Religious Liberty? It is necessary to begin by forming some idea as to what it is that is meant by the word in other than religious matters. Very briefly it may be said that an individual enjoys social liberty when he is able to obey and to use the laws and powers of his true nature, and that a community enjoys it when all its members are able to do so without interfering unduly one with the other. The more complete is this ability, the more perfect is Liberty. A remarkable paradox at once presents itself--that Liberty can only be secured by Laws. Where there are no laws, or too few, to secure it, slavery immediately appears, no less surely than when there are too many; for the stronger individuals are, by the absence of law, enabled to tyrannize over the weaker. Even the vast and complex legislation of our own days is designed to increase and not to fetter liberty, and its greater complexity is necessitated by the greater complexity and the more numerous interrelationships of modern society. Laws, of course, may be unwise or excessively minute or deliberately enslaving; yet this does not affect the point that for all that Laws are necessary to the preservation of Liberty. Merchants, women and children, and citizens generally, can only enjoy rightful liberty if they are protected by laws. Only that man is free, then, who is most carefully guarded. In the same manner Scientific Liberty does not consist in the absence of knowledge, or of scientific dogmas, but in their presence. We are surrounded by innumerable facts of nature, and that man is free who is fully aware of those which affect his own life. It is true, for example, that two and two make four, and that heavy bodies tend to fall towards the centre of the earth; and it can only be a very superficial thinker who considers that to be ignorant of these facts is to be free from the enslaving dogmas of them. If I am ignorant of them I am, of course, in a sense at liberty to believe that two and two make five, and to jump off the roof of my house; yet this is not Liberty at all in the sense in which reasonable people use the word, since my knowledge of the laws enables me to be effective and, in fact, to survive in the midst of a world where they happen to be true. That man, then, is more truly "free" whose intellect is informed of and submits to these laws, than is the man whose intellect is unaware of them. Marconi's intellect submits to the laws of lightning and he is thereby enabled to avail himself of them. Ajax is unaware of them and is accordingly destroyed by their action. _The Truth_, then, _makes us free_. The State which controls men's actions and educates their intellects, which, in a word, enforces the knowledge of truth and compels obedience to it, is actually freeing its citizens by that process. It is only by a misuse of words or a failure to grasp ideas that I can maintain that an ignorant savage is more free than an educated man. It is true that I am, in a sense, "free" to think that two and two make five, if I have not learned arithmetic; on the other hand, when I learn that they make four I rise into that higher and more real liberty which a knowledge of arithmetic bestows. I am more effective, not less so; I am more free to exercise my powers and use the forces of the world in which I live, and not less free, when I have submitted my intellect to facts. III. (i) Now the soul too has an environment. Men may differ as to its nature and its conditions, but all who believe in the soul at all believe also that it has an environment, and that this environment is as much in the realm of Law as is the natural world itself. Prayer, for example, elevates the soul, base thinking degrades it. Now the laws of this environment were true even before Christ came. David knew, at any rate, something of penitence and of the guilt of sin, and Nathan knew something, at least, of the forgiveness of sins and of their temporal punishment. Christ came, then, with this object amongst others: that He might reveal the laws of Grace and convey to men's minds some at least of the facts of the spiritual life amongst which they lived. He came, moreover, partly to modify the workings of these laws, to release some more fully, and to restrain others; in a word, to be the Revealer of Truth and the Administrator of Grace. He came then, to increase men's liberty by increasing their knowledge, as, in another sphere, the scientist comes to us with the same purpose. Here, for example, is the law that murder is a sin before God and brings its consequences with it, a law stated briefly in the commandment _Thou shall not kill_. But our Divine Lord revealed more of the workings of this law than men had hitherto recognized. _I say unto you_, declared Christ, _that whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer._ He revealed, that is to say, the fact that this law runs even in the realm of thought, that the hating spirit incurs the guilt and punishment of murder, and not merely the murderous action. Were men less free when they learned that fact? Not unless I am less free than I was before, when I learn for the first time that lightning kills. Christ came, then, to reveal the _Truth that makes us free_, and He does so by informing our intellects and enabling us to _bring into captivity every understanding to _His obedience_. (ii) Turn now to the Catholic Church. Here is a Society whose function it is to preserve and apply the teaching of Christ; to analyze it and to state it in forms or systems which every generation can receive. For this purpose, then, she draws up not merely a Creed--which is the systematic statement of the Christian Revelation--but disciplinary rules and regulations that will make this Creed and the life that is conformable to it more easy of realization, and all this she does with the express object of enabling the individual soul to respond to her spiritual environment and to rise to the full exercise of her powers and rights. As the scientist and the statesmen take, respectively, the great laws of nature and society and reduce them to rules and codes, yet without adding or taking away from these facts, that are true whether they are popularly recognized or not--and all with the purpose not of diminishing but of increasing the general liberty--so the Church, divinely safeguarded too in the process, takes the Revelation of Christ and by her dogma and her discipline popularizes it, so to speak, and makes it at once comprehensible and effective. What, then, is this foolish cry about the slavery of dogma? How can Truth make men anything except more free? Unless a man is prepared to say that the scientist enslaves his intellect by telling him facts, he dare not say that the Church fetters his intellect by defining dogma. Christ did not condemn the Pharisaic system because it was a system, but because it was Pharisaic; because, that is, it was not true; because it obscured instead of revealing the true relations between God and man; because it _made the Word of God of none effect through its traditions_. But the Catholic system has the appearance of enslaving men? Why yes; for the only way of aiming at and using effectively the _truth that makes us free_ is by _bringing into captivity every understanding to the obedience of Christ_. VIII CORPORATENESS AND INDIVIDUALISM _He that shall lose his life for My sake shall find it. For what doth it profit a man if he gain the whole world and suffer the loss of his own soul?_--MATT. XVI. 25, 26. No recorded word of our Lord better illustrates than does this the startling and paradoxical manner of His teaching. For He Who _knew what was in man_, Who spoke always down to man's deepest interests, dwelt and spoke therefore in that realm of truth where man's own paradoxical nature is most manifest; where his interests appear to flourish only by being ruthlessly pruned; where he rises to the highest development of self only by self-mortification. This is, in fact, the very lesson Christ teaches in these words. To _find the life_ is the highest object of every man and the end for which he was created; yet this can be attained only by the _losing of it for Christ's sake_. Individuality can be preserved only by the sacrifice of Individualism. Let us break up this thought and consider it more in detail. I. (i) Catholics, it is said, are the most fundamentally selfish people in the whole world, since all that they do and say and think is directed and calculated, so far as they are "good Catholics," to the salvation of their own souls. It is this that continually crops up in their conversation, and this that presumably is their chief pre-occupation. Yet surely this, above all methods, is the very worst for achieving such an end. One does not pull up flowers to see how they are growing. The very secret of health is to be unconscious of it. Catholics, on the other hand, scarcely ever do anything else; they are for ever examining themselves, for ever going to confession, for ever developing and cultivating the narrowest virtues. The whole science of Casuistry, for example, is directed to nothing else but this--the exact definition of those limits within which the salvation of the soul is secure and beyond which it is imperilled; and Casuistry, as we all know, has a stifling and deadening influence upon all who study it. Again, see how the true development and expansion of the soul must necessarily be hindered by such an ideal. "I must not read this book, however brilliant, since it might be dangerous to my faith. I must not mix in this company, however charming, since evil communications corrupt good manners." What kind of life is that which must always be checked and stunted in this fashion? What kind of salvation can there be that can only be purchased by the sacrifice of so much that is noble and inspiring? True life consists in experience, not in introspection; in going out from self into the world, not in retiring from the world inwards. Let us therefore live our life without fear, lose ourselves in humanity, forget self in experience, and leave the rest to God! (ii) So much for the one side, while from the other comes almost precisely the opposite criticism. Catholics, it is said, are not nearly individualistic enough; on the contrary they are for ever sinking themselves and their personalities in the corporate life of the Church. Not only are their outward actions checked and their words guarded, but even their very consciences and thoughts are informed and made by the collective conscience and mind of others. It is the highest ambition of every good Catholic _sentire cum ecclesia_; not merely to act and speak but even to think in obedience to others. Now a man's true life, we are told, consists in an assertion of his own individuality. God has made no two men the same; the mould was made and broken in each several case. If, therefore, we are to be what He meant us to be, we must make the most of our own personalities; we must think our own thoughts, not other people's, direct our own lives, speak our own minds--so far, of course, as we can do so without interfering with our neighbour's equal liberty. Once more, therefore, we are bidden to live our life to the full; not in this case, however, because we all share in a common humanity, but because we do not! We Catholics are wrong, therefore, for both reasons and in both directions. We are wrong when we put self first and we are wrong when we do not. We are wrong when we launch out into the current of life, and wrong when we withdraw ourselves from its waters. We are wrong when we insist upon our personal responsibility, and wrong when we look to the Church to undertake it. II. (i) Here then, indeed, is a Paradox; but it is one which our Lord Himself expressly emphasizes. For, first, there is nothing on which He so repeatedly insists as the supreme and singular value of every soul's salvation. If this is not attained, all is lost. _What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and suffer the loss of his own soul?_ All else, then, must be sacrificed if this is in peril. No human possession, however great, can be weighed against this. No human tie, however sacred, can hold against its claim. Not only must _houses and lands_, but _father and mother and wives and children_ must take second place, so soon as eternal life is at stake. And yet, somehow or another, this salvation can only be attained by loss; self can only live if it be mortified, can only be saved by its own denial. Individuality, as has been said, can only be preserved by the loss of Individualism. (ii) But this is not peculiar to the spiritual sphere; it is a paradox that is true, in some sense, of life on every plane--civic, intellectual, artistic, human. The man that desires to bring his intellectual and personal powers to their highest pitch must continually be sinking them, so to speak, in the current of his fellows, continually exhausting, using, and wearing them out. He must risk, and indeed inevitably lose, in a very real sense, his personal point of view, if he is to have a point of view that is worth possessing; he must be content to see his theories and his thoughts modified, merged, changed, and destroyed, if his thought is to be of value. For, so far as he withdraws himself from his fellows into a physical or mental isolation, so far he approaches egotistic madness. He cannot grow unless he decreases; he cannot remain himself unless he ceases to be himself. So, too, is it in civic and artistic life. The citizen who truly lives to the State of which he is a member--the man to whom his country raises a monument, for example--is one, always, who has _lost himself_ for his nation, whether he has died in battle or sacrificed himself in politics or philanthropy. And the citizen who has merely hugged his citizenship to himself, who has enjoyed all the privileges he can get and paid nothing for them,--least of all himself--who has, so to say, _gained the whole world_, has simultaneously lost himself indeed and is forgotten within a year of his death. So with the artist. The man who has made his art serve him, who has employed it, let us say, purely for the sake of the money he could get out of it, who has kept it within severe limits, who has been merely prudent and orderly and restrained, this man has, in a sense, _saved his own life_; yet simultaneously he has lost it. But the man to whom art is a passion, to whom nothing else is comparatively of any value, who has plunged himself in his art, has dedicated to it his days and his nights, has sacrificed to it every power of his being and every energy of his mind and body, this man has indeed _lost himself_. Yet he lives in his art as the other has not, he has _saved himself_ in a sense of which the other knows nothing; and exactly in proportion as he has succeeded in his self-abnegation, so far has he attained, as we say, immortality. There is not, then, one sphere of life in which the paradox is not true. The great historical lovers in romance, the pioneers of science, the immortals in every plane, are precisely those that have fulfilled on lower levels the spiritual aphorism of Jesus Christ. (iii) Turn, then, once more to the Catholic Church and see how in the Life which she offers, as in none other, there is presented to us a means of fulfilling our end. For it is she alone who even demands in the spiritual sphere a complete and entire abnegation of self. From every other Christian body comes the cry, Save your soul, assert your individuality, follow your conscience, form your opinions; while she, and she alone, demands from her children the sacrifice of their intellect, the submitting of their judgment, the informing of their conscience by hers, and the obedience of their will to her lightest command. For she, and she alone, is conscious of possessing that Divinity, in complete submission to which lies the salvation of Humanity. For she, as the coherent and organic mystical Body of Christ, calls upon those who look to her to become, not merely her children, but her very members; not to obey her as soldiers obey a leader or citizens a Government, but as the hands and eyes and feet obey a brain. Once, therefore, I understand this, I understand too how it is that by being lost in her I save myself; that I lose only that which hinders my activity, not that which fosters it. For when is my hand most itself? When separated from the body, by paralysis or amputation? Or when, in vital union with the brain, with every fibre alert and every nerve alive, it obeys in every gesture and receives in every sensation a life infinitely vaster and higher than any which it might, temporarily, enjoy in independence? It is true that its capacity for pain is the greater when it is so united, and that it would cease to suffer if once its separation were accomplished; yet, simultaneously, it would lose all that for which God made it and, _saving itself_, would be _lost_ indeed. _I live_, then, the perfect Catholic may say, as none other can say, when I have ceased to be myself. And _yet not I_, since I have lost my Individualism. No longer do I claim any activity at all on my own behalf; no longer do I demand to form my opinions, to follow my own conscience apart from that informing of it that comes from God, or to live my own life. Yet in losing my Individualism I have won my Individuality, for I have found my true place at last. I have _lost the whole world?_ Yes, so far as that world is separate from or antagonistic to God's will; but I have _gained my own soul_ and attained immortality. For it is _not I that live, but Christ that liveth in me_. IX MEEKNESS AND VIOLENCE _Blessed are the meek_.--MATT. V. 4. _The Kingdom of Heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away_.--MATT. XI. 12. We have already considered the Church's relations towards such things as wealth and human influence and power, how she will sometimes use and sometimes disdain them. Let us now penetrate a little deeper and understand the spirit that underlies and explains this varying attitude of hers. I. (i) It has been charged against Christianity in general, and therefore implicitly and supremely against the Church that was for so long its sole embodiment and is still, alone, its adequate representative, that it has fostered virtues which retard progress. Progress, in the view of the German philosopher who explicitly made this charge, is merely natural both in its action and its end; and Nature, as we are well aware, knows nothing of forgiveness or compassion or tenderness: on the contrary she moves from lower to higher forms by forces that are their precise opposite. The wounded stag is not protected by his fellows, but gored to death; the old wolf is torn to pieces, the sick lion wanders away to die of starvation, and all these instincts, we are informed, have for their object the gradual improvement of the breed by the elimination of the weak and ineffective. So should it be, he tells us, with man, and the extreme Eugenists echo his teaching. Christianity, on the other hand, deliberately protects the weak and teaches that the sacrifice of the strong is supreme heroism. Christianity has raised hospitals and refuges for the infirm, seeking to preserve those very types which Nature, if she had her way, would eliminate. Christianity, then, is the enemy of the human race and not its friend, since Christianity has retarded, as no other religion has ever succeeded in retarding, the appearance of that superman whom Nature seeks to evolve.... It is scarcely to be wondered at that the teacher of such a doctrine himself died insane. A parallel doctrine is taught largely to-day by persons who call themselves practical and businesslike. Meekness and gentleness and compassion, they tell their sons, are very elegant and graceful virtues for those who can afford them, for women and children who are more or less sheltered from the struggle of life, and for feeble and ineffective people who are capable of nothing else. But for men who have to make their own way in the world and intend to win success there, a more stern code is necessary; from these there is demanded such a rule of action as Nature herself dictates. Be self-confident and self-assertive then, not meek. Remember that the weakness of your neighbour is your own opportunity. Take care of number one and let the rest take care of themselves. A man does not go into the stock-exchange or into commerce in order to exhibit Christian virtues there, but business qualities. In a word, Christianity, so far as it affects material or commercial or political progress, is a weakness rather than a strength, an enemy rather than a friend. (ii) But if, on the one side, the gentleness and non-resistance inculcated by Christianity form the material of one charge against the Church, on the other side, no less, she is blamed for her violence and intransigeance. Catholics are not yielding enough, we are told, to be true followers of the meek Prophet of Galilee, not gentle enough to inherit the blessing which He pronounced. On the contrary there are no people so tenacious, so obstinate, and even so violent as these professed disciples of Jesus Christ. See the way, for example, in which they cling to and insist upon their rights; the obstacles they raise, for example, to reasonable national schemes of education or to a sensible system in the divorce courts. And above all, consider their appalling and brutal violence as exhibited in such institutions as that of the Index and Excommunication, the fierceness with which they insist upon absolute and detailed obedience to authority, the ruthlessness with which they cast out from their company those who will not pronounce their shibboleths. It is true that in these days they can only enforce their claims by spiritual threatenings and penalties, but history shows us that they would do more if they could. The story of the racks and the fires of the Inquisition shows plainly enough that the Church once used, and therefore, presumably, would use again if she could, carnal weapons in her spiritual warfare. Can anything be more unlike the gentle Spirit of Him Who, _when He was reviled, reviled not again;_ of Him Who bade men to _learn of Him, for He was meek and lowly of heart_, and so _find rest to their souls?_ Here, then, is the Paradox, and here are two characteristics of the Catholic Church: that she is at once too meek and too self-assertive, too gentle and too violent. It is a paradox exactly echoed by our Divine Lord Himself, Who in the Upper Chamber bade His disciples who _had no sword_ to _sell their cloaks and buy them_, and Who yet, in the garden of Gethsemane, commanded the one disciple who had taken Him at His word to _put up the sword into its sheath_, telling him that _they who took the sword should perish by it_. It is echoed yet again in His action, first in taking the scourge into His own Hand, in the temple courts, and then in baring His shoulders to that same scourge in the hands of others. How, then, is this Paradox to be reconciled? II. The Church, let us remind ourselves again, is both Human and Divine. (i) She consists of human persons, and those persons are attached both to one another and to the world outside by a perfectly balanced system of human rights known as the Law of Justice. This Law of Justice, though coming indeed from God, is, in a sense, natural and human; it exists to some extent in all societies, as well as being closely defined and worked out in the Old Law given on Sinai. It is a Law which men could have worked out, at any rate in its main principles, by the light of reason only, unaided by Revelation, and it is a Law, further, so fundamental that no Revelation could conceivably ever outrage or set it aside. At the coming of Christ into the world, however, Supernatural Charity came with Him. The Law of Justice still remained; men still had their rights on which they might insist, still had their rights which no Christian may refuse to recognize. But such was the torrent of Divine generosity which Christ exhibited, so overwhelming was the Vision which He revealed of the supernatural charity of God towards men, that a set of ideals sprang into life such as the world had never dreamed of; more, Charity came with such power that her commands actually overruled in many instances the feeble claims of Justice, so that she bade men henceforward to forgive, for example, not merely according to Justice, but according to her own Divine nature, to _forgive unto seventy times seven_, to give _good measure, heaped up and running over_, and not the bare minimum which men had merely earned. It was from this advent of Charity, then, that all these essentially Christian virtues of generosity and meekness and self-sacrifice sprang which Nietsche condemned as hostile to material progress. For, from henceforth, if _a man take thy coat, let him take thy cloak also; if he will compel thee to go with him one mile, go two; if he strike thee on one cheek, turn to him the other also_. The Law of Natural justice is transcended and the Law of Charity and Sacrifice reigns instead. _Resist not evil_; do not insist always, that is to say, on your natural rights; give men more than their due, and be yourself content with less. _Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart, and find rest to your souls. Forgive one another your trespasses_ with the same generous charity with which God has forgiven and will forgive you yours. _Judge not and you shall not be judged._ Do not, in personal matters, insist upon bare justice for yourself, but act on that scale and by those principles by which God Himself has dealt with you. Meekness, then, is undoubtedly a Christian virtue. Sometimes it is obligatory, sometimes it is but a Counsel of Perfection; it stands, in any case, high among those ideals which it has been the glory of Christianity to create. (ii) But there are other elements in life besides the human and the natural, beyond those personal rights and claims which a Christian may, if he is aiming at perfection, set aside out of charity. The Church is Divine as well as Human. For the Church has entrusted to her, besides the rights of men, which may be sacrificed by their possessors, the rights and claims of God, which none but He can set aside. He has given into her keeping, for example, a Revelation of truths and principles which, springing out of His own Nature or of His Will, are as immutable and eternal as Himself. And it is precisely in defence of these truths and principles that the Church exhibits that which the world calls _intransigeance_ and Jesus Christ _violence_. Here, for example, is the right of a baptized Catholic child to be educated in his religion, or rather, the right of God Himself to teach that child in the manner He has ordained. Here is the revealed truth that marriage is indissoluble; here that Jesus Christ is the Son of God. Now these are not human rights or opinions at all--rights and opinions which men, urged by charity or humility, can set aside or waive in the face of opposition. They rest on an entirely different basis; they are, so to speak, the inalienable possessions of God; and it would neither be charity nor humility, but sheer treachery, for the Church to exhibit meekness or pliancy in matters such as these, given to her as they are, not to dispose of, but to guard intact. On the contrary here, exactly, comes the command, _He that hath not, let him sell his cloak and buy a sword,_, for here comes the line between the Divine and the Human; let all personal possessions go, all merely natural rights and claims be yielded, and let a sword take their place. For here is a matter that must be _resisted, even unto blood_. The Catholic Church then is, and always will be, _violent_ and intransigeant when the rights of God are in question. She will be absolutely ruthless, for example, towards heresy, for heresy affects not personal matters on which Charity may yield, but a Divine right on which there must be no yielding. Yet, simultaneously, she will be infinitely kind towards the heretic, since a thousand human motives and circumstances may come in and modify his responsibility. At a word of repentance she will readmit his person into her treasury of souls, but not his heresy into her treasury of wisdom; she will strike his name eagerly and freely from her black list of the rebellious, but not his book from the pages of her Index. She exhibits meekness towards him and _violence_ towards his error; since he is human, but her Truth is Divine. It is, then, from a modern confusion of thought with regard to the realms of the Divine and the Human that the amazing inability arises, on the world's part, to understand the respective principles on which the Catholic Church acts in these two and utterly separate departments. The world considers it reasonable for a country to defend its material possessions by the sword, but intolerant and unreasonable for the Church to condemn, _resisting even unto blood_, principles which she considers erroneous or false. The Church, on the other hand, urges her children again and again to yield rather than to fight when merely material possessions are at stake, since Charity permits and sometimes even commands men to be content with less than their own rights, and yet again, when a Divine truth or right is at stake, here she will resist unfaltering and undismayed, since she cannot be "charitable" with what is not her own; here she will _sell her cloak_ and _buy that sword_ which, when the dispute was on merely temporal matters, she thrust back again into its sheath. To-day[1] as Christ rides into Jerusalem we see, as in a mirror, this Paradox made plain. _Thy King cometh to thee, meek_. Was there ever so mean a Procession as this? Was there ever such meekness and charity? He Who, as His personal right, is attended in heaven by a _multitude on white horses_, now, in virtue of His Humanity, is content with a few fishermen and a crowd of children. He to Whom, in His personal right, the harpers and the angels make eternal music is content, since He has been made Man for our sakes, with the discordant shoutings of this crowd. He Who _rode on the Seraphim and came flying on the wings of the wind_ sits on the colt of an ass. He comes, meek indeed, from the golden streets of the Heavenly Jerusalem to the foul roads of the Earthly, laying aside His personal rights since He is that very Fire of Charity by which Christians relinquish theirs. [Footnote 1: This sermon was preached on Palm-Sunday.] But, for all that, it is _riding_ that _thy King cometh to thee_.... He will not relinquish His inalienable claim and He will have nothing essential left out. He has His royal escort, even though a ragged one; He will have His spearmen, even though their spears be only of palm; He will have His heralds to proclaim Him, however much the devout Pharisees may be offended by their proclamation; He will ride into His own Royal City, even though that City casts Him out, and He will have His Coronation, even though it be with thorns. So, too, the Catholic Church advances through the ages. In merely human rights and personal matters again and again she will yield up all that she has, making, it may be, but one protest for Justice' sake and then no more. And she will urge her children to do the same. If the world will let her have no jewels, then she will put glass beads in her monstrance, and for marble she will use plaster, and tinsel for gold. But she will have her Procession and insist upon her Royalty. It may seem as poor and as mean and as tawdry as the entrance of Christ Himself through the royal gate; for she will yield up all that the world demands of her, so long as her Divine Right itself remains intact. She will issue her orders, though few be found to obey them; she will cast out from her the rebellious who question her authority, and cleanse her Temple Courts even though with a scourge at which men mock. She will give up all that is merely human, if the world will have it so, and will _resist not evil_ if it merely concerns herself. But there is one thing which she will not renounce, one thing she will claim, even with _violence_ and "intransigeance," and that is the Royalty with which God Himself has crowned her. X THE SEVEN WORDS THE "THREE HOURS" INTRODUCTION The value, to the worshippers, of the Devotion of the Three Hours' Agony is in proportion to the degree in which they understand that they are watching not so much the tragedy of nineteen hundred years ago as the tragedy of their own lives and times. Merely to dwell on the Death of Christ on Calvary would scarcely avail them more than to study the details of the assassination of Caesar at the foot of Pompey's statue. Such considerations might indeed be interesting, exciting, and even a little instructive or inspiring; but they could not be better than this, and they might be no better than morbid and harmful. The Death of Christ, however, is unique because it is, so to say, universal. It is more than the crowning horror of all murderous histories; it is more even than the _type_ of all the outrages that men have ever committed against God. For it is just the very enactment, upon the historical stage of the world, of those repeated interior tragedies that take place in every soul that rejects or insults Him; since the God whom we crucify within is the same God that was once crucified without. There is not an exterior detail in the Gospel which may not be interiorly repeated in the spiritual life of a sinner; the process recorded by the Evangelists must be more or less identical with the process of all apostasy from God. For, first, there is the Betrayal of Conscience, as a beginning of the tragedy; its betrayal by those elements of our nature that are intended as its friends and protectors--by Emotion or Forethought, for example. Then Conscience is led away, bound, to be judged; for there can be no mortal sin without deliberation, and no man ever yet fell into it without conducting first a sort of hasty mock-trial or two in which a sham Prudence or a false idea of Liberty solemnly decide that Conscience is in the wrong. Yet even then Conscience persists, and so He is made to appear absurd and ridiculous, and set beside the Barabbas of a coarse and sturdy lower nature that makes no high pretensions and boasts of it. And so the drama proceeds and Conscience is crucified: Conscience begins to be silent, breaking the deepening gloom now and again with protests that grow weaker every time, and at last Conscience dies indeed. And thenceforward there can be no hope, save in the miracle of Resurrection. This Cross of Calvary, then, is not a mere type or picture; it is a fact identical with that so dreadfully familiar to us in spiritual life. For Christ is not one Person, and Conscience something else, but it is actually Christ who speaks in Conscience and Christ, therefore, Who is crucified in mortal sin. Let us, then, be plain with ourselves. We are watching not only Christ's Death but our own, since we are watching the Death of Christ _Who is our Life_. THE FIRST WORD _Father forgive them, for they know not what they do_. In previous considerations we have studied the Life of Christ in His Mystical Body from an angle at which the strange and innumerable paradoxes which abound in all forms of life at a certain depth become visible. And we have seen how these paradoxes lie in those strata, so to say, where the Divinity and the Humanity meet. Christ is God and God cannot die; therefore Christ became man in order to be able to do so. The Church is Divine and therefore all-holy, but she dwells in a Body of sinful Humanity and reckons her sinners to be her children and members no less than her saints. We will continue to regard the crucifixion of Jesus Christ and the Words which He spoke from the Cross from the same angle, and to find, therefore, the same characteristic paradoxes and mysteries in all that we see. In the First Word we meet the _Paradox of Divine Forgiveness_. I. Ordinary human forgiveness is no more than a natural virtue, resulting from a natural sense of justice, and if a man is normal, his forgiveness will be a natural and inevitable part of the process of reconciliation so soon as a certain kind of restitution has been made. For example, a friend of mine sins against me--he injures, perhaps, my good name; and my natural answer is the emotion of resentment towards him and, perhaps, of actual revenge. But what I chiefly resent is my friend's stupidity and his ignorance of my real character. "I am angry," I say, with perfect sincerity, "not so much at the thing he has said of me, as at this proof of his incapacity to understand me. I thought he was my friend, that he was in sympathy with my character or, at least, that he understood it sufficiently to do me justice. But now, from what he has just said of me, I see that he does not. If the thing he said were true of me, the most of my anger would be gone. But I see that he does not know me, after all." And then, presently, my friend does understand that he has wronged me; that the gossip he repeated or the construction he put upon my actions was not fair or true. And immediately that I become aware of this, from him or from another, my resentment goes, if I have any natural virtue at all; it goes because my wounded pride is healed. I forgive him easily and naturally because he knows now what he has done. II. How entirely different from this easy, self-loving, human forgiveness is the Divine Forgiveness of Christ! Now it is true that in the conscience of Pilate, the unjust representative of justice, and in that thing that called itself conscience in Herod, and in the hearts of the priests who denounced their God, and of the soldiers who executed their overlord, and of Judas who betrayed his friend, in all these there was surely a certain uneasiness--such an uneasiness is actually recorded of the first and the last of the list--a certain faint shadow of perception and knowledge of what it was that they had done and were doing. And, for the natural man, it would have been comparatively easy to forgive such injuries on that account. "I forgive them," such a man might have said from his cross, "because there is just a glimmer of knowledge left; there is just one spark in their hearts that still does me justice, and for the sake of that I can try, at least, to put away my resentment and ask God to forgive them." But Jesus Christ cries, "Forgive them because they do _not_ know what they do! Forgive them because they need it so terribly, since they do not even know that they need it! Forgive in them that which is unforgivable!" III. Two obvious points present themselves in conclusion. (1) First, it is _Divine_ Forgiveness that we need, since no sinner of us all knows the full malice of sin. One man is a slave, let us say, to a sin of the flesh, and seeks to reassure himself by the reflection that he injures no one but himself; ignorant as he is of the outrage to God the Holy Ghost Whose temple he is ruining. Or a woman repeats again every piece of slanderous gossip that comes her way and comforts herself in moments of compunction by reflecting that she "means no harm"; ignorant as she is of the discouragement of souls of which she is the cause and of the seeds of distrust and enmity sown among friends. In fact it is incredible that any sinner ever _knows what it is that he does_ by sin. We need, therefore, the Divine Forgiveness and not the human, the pardon that descends when we are unaware that we must have it or die; the love of the Father Who, _while we are yet a great way off, runs to meet_ us, and Who teaches us for the first time, by the warmth of His welcome, the icy distances to which we had wandered. If we _knew_, anyone could forgive us. It is because we do not that only God, Who knows all things, can forgive us effectively. (2) And it is this _Divine_ Forgiveness that we ourselves have to extend to those that sin against us, since only those who so forgive can be forgiven. We must not wait until wounded pride is made whole by the conscious shame of our enemy; until the debt is paid by acknowledgment and we are complacent once more in the knowledge that justice has been done to us at last. On the contrary, the only forgiveness that is supernatural, and which, therefore, alone is meritorious, is that which reach out to men's ignorance and not their knowledge of their need. THE SECOND WORD _Amen I say to thee, to-day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise._ Our Divine Lord, in this Second Word, immediately applies and illustrates the First and drives its lesson home. He shows us how the rain of mercy that poured out of heaven in answer to the prayer He made just now enlightens the man who, above all others present on Calvary, was the most abjectly ignorant of all; the man who, himself at the very heart of the tragedy, understood it less, probably, than the smallest child on the outskirts of the crowd. His life had been one long defiance of the laws of both God and man. He had been a member of one of those troops of human vermin that crawl round Jerusalem, raiding solitary houses, attacking solitary travellers, guilty of sins at once the bloodiest and the meanest, comparable only to the French _apaches_ of our own day. Well, he had been gripped at last by the Roman machine, caught in some sordid adventure, and here, resentful and furious and contemptuous, full of bravado and terror, he snarled like a polecat at every human face he saw, snarled and spat at the Divine Face Itself that looked at him from a cross that was like his own; and, since he had not even a spark of the honour that is reputed to exist "among thieves," taunted his "fellow criminal" for the folly of His "crime." "If thou be the Christ, save Thyself and us." Again, then, the Paradox is plain enough. Surely an educated priest, or a timid disciple, or a good-hearted dutiful soldier who hated the work he was at, surely one of these will be the first object of Christ's pardon; and so one of these would have been, if one of ourselves had hung there. But when God forgives, He forgives the most ignorant first--that is, the most remote from forgiveness--and makes, not Peter or Caiphas or the Centurion, but Dismas the thief, the firstfruits of Redemption. I. The first effect of the Divine Mercy is Enlightenment. _Before they call, I will answer_. Before the thief feels the first pang of sorrow Grace is at work on him, and for the first time in his dreary life he begins to understand. And an extraordinary illumination shines in his soul. For no expert penitent after years of spirituality, no sorrowful saint, could have prayed more perfectly than this outcast. His intellect, perhaps, took in little or nothing of the great forces that were active about him and within him; he knew, perhaps, explicitly little or nothing of Who this was that hung beside him; yet his soul's intuition pierces to the very heart of the mystery and expresses itself in a prayer that combines at once a perfect love, an exquisite humility, an entire confidence, a resolute hope, a clear-sighted faith, and an unutterable patience; his soul blossoms all in a moment: _Lord, remember me when Thou comest in Thy Kingdom_. He saw the glory behind the shame, the Eternal Throne behind the Cross, and the future behind the present; and he asked only to be _remembered_ when the glory should transfigure the shame and the Cross be transformed into the Throne; for he understood what that remembrance would mean: "_Remember, Lord_, that I suffered at Thy side." II. So perfect, then, are the dispositions formed in him by grace that at one bound _the last is first_. Not even Mary and John shall have the instant reward that shall be his; for them there are other gifts, and the first are those of separation and exile. For the moment, then, this man steps into the foremost place and they who have hung side by side on Calvary shall walk side by side to meet those waiting souls beyond the veil who will run so eagerly to welcome them. _To-day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise._ III. Now this Paradox, _the last shall be first_, is an old doctrine of Christ, so startling and bewildering that He has been forced to repeat it again and again. He taught it in at least four parables: in the parables of _the Lost Piece of Silver, the Lost Sheep, the Prodigal Son_, and _the Vineyard_. The Nine Pieces lie neglected on the table, the Ninety-nine sheep are exiled in the Fold, the Elder Son is, he thinks, overlooked and slighted, and the Labourers complain of favouritism. Yet still, even after all this teaching, the complaint goes up from Christians that God is too loving to be quite just. A convert, perhaps, comes into the Church in middle age and in a few months develops the graces of Saint Teresa and becomes one of her daughters. A careless black-guard is condemned to death for murder and three weeks later dies upon the scaffold the death of a saint, at the very head of the line. And the complaints seem natural enough. _Thou hast made them equal unto us who have borne the burden and heat of the day_. Yet look again, you Elder Sons. Have your religious, careful, timid lives ever exhibited anything resembling that depth of self-abjection to which the Younger Son has attained? Certainly you have been virtuous and conscientious; after all, it would be a shame if you had not been so, considering the wealth of grace you have always enjoyed. But have you ever even striven seriously after the one single moral quality which Christ holds up in His own character as the point of imitation: _Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart_? It is surely significant that He does not say, expressly, Learn of Me to be pure, or courageous, or fervent; but _Learn to be humble_, for in this, above all, you shall _find rest to your souls_. Instead, have you not had a kind of gentle pride in your religion or your virtue or your fastidiousness? In a word, you have not been as excellent an Elder Son as your brother has been a Younger. You have not corresponded with your graces as he has corresponded with his. You have never yet been capable of sufficient lowliness to come home (which is so much harder than to remain there), or of sufficient humility to begin for the first time to work with all your heart only an hour before sunset. Begin, then, at the beginning, not half-way up the line. Go down to the church door and beat your breast and say not, God reward me who have done so much for Him, but _God be merciful to me_ who have done so little. Get off your seat amongst the Pharisees and go down on your knees and weep behind Christ's couch, if perhaps He may at last say to you, _Friend, come up higher_. THE THIRD WORD _Woman, behold thy son. Behold thy mother_. Our Divine Lord now turns, from the soul who at one bound has sprung into the front rank, to those two souls who have never left it, and supremely to that Mother on whose soul sin has never yet breathed, on whose breast Incarnate God had rested as inviolate and secure as on the Bosom of the Eternal Father, that Mother who was His Heaven on earth. Standing beside her is the one human being who is least unworthy to be there, now that Joseph has passed to his reward and John the Baptist has gone to join the Prophets--_the disciple whom Jesus loved_, who had lain on the breast of Jesus as Jesus had lain on the breast of Mary. Our Lord has just shown how He deals with His dear sinners; now He shows how He will _be glorified with His Saints_. The Paradox of this Word is that Death, the divider of those who are separated from God, is the bond of union between those that are united to Him. I. Death is the one inexorable enemy of human society as constituted apart from God. A king dies and his kingdom is at once in danger of disruption. A child dies and his mother prays that she may bear another, lest his father and she should drift apart. Death is the supreme sower of discord and disunion, then, in the natural order, since he is the one supreme enemy of natural life. He is the noonday terror of the Rich Fool of the parable and the nightmare of the Poor Fool, since those who place their hope in this life see that death is the end of their hope. For these there is no appeal beyond the grave. II. Now precisely the opposite of all this is true in the supernatural order, since the gate of death, viewed from the supernatural side, is an entrance and not an ending, a beginning and not a close. This may be seen to be so even in a united human family in this world, the members of whom are living the supernatural life; for where such a family is living in the love of God, Death, when he comes, draws not only the survivors closer together, but even those whom he seems to have separated. He does not bring consternation and terror and disunion, but he awakens hope and tenderness, he smooths away old differences, he explains old misunderstandings. Our Blessed Lord has already, over the grave of Lazarus, hinted that this shall be so, so soon as He has consecrated death by His own dying. _He that believeth in Me shall never die_. He, that is to say, who has _died with Christ_, whose centre henceforward is in the supernatural, simply no longer finds death to be what nature finds it. It no longer makes for division but for union; it no longer imperils or ends life and interest and possession, but releases them from risk and mortality. Here, then, He deliberately and explicitly acts upon this truth. He once raised Lazarus and the daughter of Jairus and the Widow's Son from the dead, for death's sting could, at that time, be drawn in no other way; but now that He Himself is _tasting death for every man_, He performs an even more emphatically supernatural act and conquers death by submitting to it instead of by commanding it. Life had already united, so far as mortal life can unite, those two souls who loved Him and one another so well. These two, since they knew Him so perfectly, knew each the other too as perfectly as knowledge and sympathy can unite souls in this life. But now the whole is to be raised a stage higher. They had already been united on the living breast of Jesus; now, over His dead body, they were to be made yet more one. It is marvellous that, after so long, our imaginations should still be so tormented and oppressed by the thought of death; that we should still be so _without understanding_ that we think it morbid to be in love with death, for it is far more morbid to be in fear of it. It is not that our reason or our faith are at fault; it is only that that most active and untamable faculty of ours, which we call imagination, has not yet assimilated the truth, accepted by both our faith and our reason, that for those who are in the friendship of God death is simply not that at all which it is to others. It does not, as has been said, end our lives or our interests: on the contrary it liberates and fulfils them. And all this it does because Jesus Christ has Himself plunged into the heart of Death and put out his fires. Henceforth we are one family in Him if we do His will--_his brother and sister and mother_; and Mary is our Mother, not by nature, which is accidental, but by supernature, which is essential. Mary is my Mother and John is my brother, since, if I have died with Christ, it is _no longer I that live, but Christ that liveth in me_. In a word, it is the Communion of Saints which He inaugurates by this utterance and seals by His dying. THE FOURTH WORD _My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?_ Our Blessed Lord in the revelation He makes from the Cross passes gradually inwards to Himself Who is its centre. He begins in the outermost circle of all, with the ignorant sinners. He next deals with the one sinner who ceased to be ignorant, and next with those who were always nearest to Himself, and now at last He reveals the deepest secret of all. This is the central Word of the Seven in every sense. There is no need to draw attention to the Paradox it expresses. I. First, then, let us remind ourselves of the revealed dogma that Jesus Christ was the Eternal Son of the Father; that He dwelt always in the Bosom of that Father; that when He left heaven He _did not leave the Father's side_; that at Bethlehem and Nazareth and Galilee and Jerusalem and Gethsemane and Calvary He was always the _Word that was with God_ and _the Word_ that _was God_. Next, that the eyes even of His Sacred Humanity looked always and continuously upon the Face of God, since His union with God was entire and complete: as He looked up into His Mother's face from the manger, He saw behind it the Face of His Father; as He cried in Gethsemane, _If it be possible_, even in His Sacred Humanity He knew that it could not be; as He groaned out on Calvary that God had forsaken Him, He yet looked without one instant's intermission into the glory of heaven and saw His Father there. Yet simultaneously with these truths it is also true that His cry of dereliction was incalculably more of a reality than when first uttered by David or, since, by any desolate sinner in the thickest spiritual darkness. All the miseries of holy and sinful souls, heaped together, could not approach even afar off the intolerable misery of Christ. For of His own will He refused to be consoled at all by that Presence which He could never lack, and of His own will He chose to be pierced and saturated and tormented by the sorrow He could never deserve. He held firm against the touch of consolation every power of His Divine and Human Being and, simultaneously, flung them open to the assaults of every pain. And if the psychology of this state is altogether beyond our power to understand, we may remind ourselves that it is the psychology of the _Word made Flesh_ that is confronting us.... Do we expect to understand that?... II. There is a human phrase, however, itself a paradox, yet corresponding to something which we know to be true, which throws some faint glimmer of light upon this impenetrable darkness and seems to extend Christ's experience upon the Cross so as to touch our own human life. It is a phrase that describes a condition well known to spiritual persons: "To leave God for God." (1) The simplest and lowest form of this state is that condition in which we acquiesce with our will in the withdrawal of ordinary spiritual consolation. Certainly it is an inexplicable state, since both the ordinary aids to our will--our understanding and our emotion--are, by the very nature of the case, useless to it. Our heart revolts from that dereliction and our understanding fails to comprehend the reasons for it. Yet we acquiesce, or at least perceive that we ought to do so; and that by doing so--by ceasing, that is, to grasp God's Presence any longer--we find it as never before. We leave God in order to find Him. (2) The second state is that in which we find ourselves when not only do all consolations leave us, but the very grip of intelligent faith goes too; when the very reasons for faithfulness appear to vanish. It is an incalculably more bitter trial, and soul after soul fails under it and must be comforted again by God in less august ways or perish altogether. And yet this is not the extremest pitch even of human desolation. (3) For there is a third of which the saints tell us in broken words and images.... III. Our final point, for application to ourselves, is that dereliction in some form or another is as much a stage in spiritual progress as autumn and winter are seasons of the year. The beginners have to suffer one degree, the illuminated another, and those that have approached a real Union with God a third. But all must suffer it, and each in his own degree, or progress is impossible. Let us take courage therefore and face it, in the light of this Word. For, as we can sanctify bodily pain by the memory of the nails, so too can we sanctify spiritual pain by the memory of this darkness. If He Who _never left the Father's side_ can suffer this in an unique and supreme sense, how much more should we be content to suffer it in lower degrees, who have so continually, since we came to the age of reason, been leaving not His side only, but His very house. THE FIFTH WORD _I thirst._ Our Lord continues to reveal His own condition, since He, after all, is the key to all Humanity. If we understand anything of Him, simultaneously we shall understand ourselves far better. He has shown us that He can truly be deprived of spiritual consolation; and the value of this deprivation; now He shows us the value of bodily deprivation also. And the Paradox for our consideration is that the Source of all can lose all; that the Creator needs His creation; that He Who offers us the _water springing up into Life Eternal_ can lack the water of human life--the simplest element of all. In His Divine Dereliction He yet continues to be Human. I. It is very usual, under this Word, to meditate on Christ's thirst for souls; and this is, of course, a legitimate thought, since it is true that His whole Being, and not merely one part of it, longed and panted on the Cross for every object of His desire. Certainly He desired souls! When does He not? But it is easy to lose the proportion of truth, if we spiritualize everything, and pass over, as if unworthy of consideration, His bodily pain. For this Thirst of the Crucified is the final sum of all the pains of crucifixion: the physical agony, the fever produced by it, the torrential sweat, the burning of the sun--all these culminated in the torment of which this Cry is His expression. Bodily pain, then, since Jesus not only deigned to suffer it, but to speak of it, is as much a part of the Divine process as the most spiritual of derelictions: it is an intense and a vital reality in life. It is the fashion, at present, to pose as if we were superior to such things; as if either it were too coarse for our high natures or even actually in itself evil. The truth is that we are terrified of its reality and its sting, and seek, therefore, to evade it by every means in our power. We affect to smile at the old penances of the saints and ascetics as if we ourselves had risen into a higher state of development and needed no longer such elementary aids to piety! Let this Word, then, bring us back to our senses and to the due proportions of truth. We are body as well as soul; we are incomplete without the body. The soul is insufficient to itself, the body has as real a part to play in Redemption as the soul which is its inmate and should be its mistress. We look for the _redemption of our body_ and the _Resurrection of the Flesh_, we merit or demerit before God in our soul for the deeds done in our body. So was it too with our Lord of His infinite compassion. The _Word was made Flesh_, dwelt in the Flesh, has assumed that Flesh into heaven. Further, He suffered in the Flesh and deigned to tell us so; and that He found that suffering all but intolerable. II. In a well-known book a Catholic poet[1] describes with a great deal of power the development of men's nervous systems in these later days, and warns his readers against a scrupulous terror lest they, who no longer scourge themselves with briers, should be neglecting a means of sanctification. He points out, with perfect justice, that men, in these days, suffer instead in more subtle manners than did those of the Middle Ages, yet none the less physical; and puts us on our guard lest we should afflict ourselves too much. Yet we must take care, also, that we do not fall into the opposite extreme and come to regard bodily pain, (as has been said) as if it were altogether too elementary for our refined natures and as if it must have no place in the alchemy of the spirit. This would be both dangerous and false. _What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder!_ For, if we once treat body and soul as ill-matched companions and seek to deal with them apart, instantly the door is flung open to the old Gnostic horrors of sensualism on the one side or inhuman mutilation or neglect on the other. [Footnote 1: Health and Holiness by Francis Thompson.] The Church, on the other hand, is very clear and insistent that body and soul make one man as fully as God and Man make one Christ; and she illustrates and directs these strange co-relations and mutual effects of these two partners by her steady insistence on such things as Fasting and Abstinence. And the saints are equally clear and insistent. There never yet has been a single soul whom the Church has raised to her altars in whose life bodily austerity in some form has not played a considerable part. It is true that some have warned us against excess; but what warnings and what excess! "Be moderate," advises St. Ignatius, that most reasonable and moderate of all the saints. "Take care that you do not break any bones with your iron scourge. God does not wish that!" Pain, then, has a real place in our progress. Who that has suffered can ever doubt it again? Let us consider, therefore, under this Word of Christ, whether our attitude to bodily pain is what God would have it to be. There are two mistakes that we may be committing. Either we may fear it too little--meet it, that is to say, with Pagan stoicism instead of with Christianity--or we may fear it too much. _Despise not the chastening_, on one side, _or faint_ on the other. It is surely the second warning that is most needed now. For pain had a real place in Christ's programme of life. He fasted for forty days at the beginning of His Ministry, and He willed every shocking detail of the Praetorium and Calvary at the end. He told us that _His Spirit willed it_ and, yet more kindly, that _His Flesh was weak_. He revealed, then, that He really suffered and that He willed it so.... _I thirst._ THE SIXTH WORD _It is consummated._ He has finished _His Father's business_, He has dealt with sinners and saints, and has finally disclosed to us the secrets of the Soul and the Body of His that are the hope of both sinners and saints alike. And there is no more for Him to do. An entirely new Beginning, then, is at hand, now that the Last Sabbath is come--the Last Sabbath, so much greater than the First as Redemption is greater than Creation. For Creation is a mere introduction to the Book of Life; it is the arrangement of materials that are to be thrown instantly into confusion again by man, who should be its crown and master. The Old Testament is one medley of mistakes and fragments and broken promises and violated treaties, to reach its climax in the capital Mistake of Calvary, when men indeed _knew not what they did._ And even God Himself in the New Testament, as man in the Old, has gone down in the catastrophe and hangs here mutilated and broken. Real life, then, is now to begin. Yet, strangely enough, He calls it an End rather than a Beginning. _Consummatum est!_ I. The one and only thing in human life that God desires to end is Sin. There is not a pure joy or a sweet human relationship or a selfless ambition or a divine hope which He does not desire to continue and to be crowned and transfigured beyond all ambition and all hope. On the contrary, He desires only to end that one single thing which ruins relationships and spoils joy and poisons aspirations. For up to the present there is not one page of history which has not this blot upon it. God has had to tolerate, for lack of better, such miserable specimens of humanity! _Jacob have I loved!_ ... _David a man after my heart;_ the one a poor, mean, calculating man, who had, however, that single glimmer of the supernatural which Esau, for all his genial sturdiness, was without; the other an adulterous murderer, who yet had grace enough for real contrition. Hitherto He has been content with so little. He has accepted vinegar for want of wine. Next, God has had to tolerate, and indeed to sanction--such an unworthy worship of Himself--all the blood of the temple and the spilled entrails and the nameless horrors. And yet this was all to which men could rise; for without it, they never could have learned the more nameless horror of sin. Last, for His worshippers He has had to content Himself with but one People instead of _all peoples and nations and languages._ And what a People,--whom even Moses could not bear for their treachery and instability! And all this wretched record ends in the Crime of Calvary, at which the very earth revolts and the sun grows dark with shame. Is it any wonder that Christ cried, Thank God that is all done with at last! II. Instead of this miserable past, then, what is to come? What is that _New Wine He would drink with us in His Father's Kingdom?_ First; real and complete saints of God are to take the place of the fragmentary saints of the Old Dispensation, saints with heads of gold and feet of clay. Souls are to be born again in Baptism, not merely sealed by circumcision, and to be purified before they can contract any actual guilt of their own. And, of these, many shall keep their baptismal innocence and shall go, wearing that white robe, before God Who gave it them. Others again shall lose it, but regain it once more, and, through the power of the Precious Blood, shall rise to heights of which Jacob and David never even dreamed. To _awake in His likeness_ was the highest ambition of _the man after God's Heart;_ but to be not merely like Christ, but one with Him, is the hope of the Christian. _I live_, the new saints shall say with truth, _yet now not I, but Christ liveth in me._ Next, instead of the old worship of blood and pain there shall be an Unbloody Sacrifice and a _Pure Offering_ in which shall be all the power and propitiation of Calvary without its pain, all the glory without the degradation. And last, in place of the old enclosed Race of Israel shall be a Church of all nations and tongues, one vast Society, with all walls thrown down and all divisions done away, one Jerusalem from above, that shall be the Mother of us all. III. That, then, is what Christ intended as He cried, _It is consummated._ Behold _the old things are passed away!_ Behold, _I make all things new!_ And now let us see how far that is fulfilled. Where is there, in me, the New Wine of the Gospel? I have all that God can give me from His Throne on Calvary. I have the truth that He proclaimed and the grace that He released. Yet is there in me, up to the present, even one glimmer of what is meant by Sanctity? Am I even within an appreciable distance of the saints who knew not Christ? Have I ever wrestled like Jacob or wept like David? Has my religion, that is to say, ever inspired me beyond the low elevation of joy into the august altitudes of pain? Is it possible that with me the old is not put away, the _old man_ is not yet dead, and the _new man_ not yet _put on_? Is that New Sacrifice the light of my daily life? Have I done anything except hinder the growth of Christ's Church, anything except drag down her standards, so far as I am able, to my own low level? Is there a single soul now in the world who owes, under God, her conversion to my efforts? Why, as I watch my life and review it in His Presence it would seem as if I had done nothing but disappoint Him all my days! He cried, like the deacon of His own Sacrifice, Go! it is done! _Ite; missa est!_ The Sacrifice is finished here; go out in its strength to live the life which it makes possible! Let me at least begin to-day, have done with my old compromises and shifts and evasions. _Ite; missa est!_ THE SEVENTH WORD _Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit._ He has cried with a loud voice, and the rocks have rent to its echo, and the earth is shaken, and the Veil of the Old Testament is torn from top to bottom as the Old Covenant passes into the New and the enclosed sanctity of the Most Holy Place breaks out into the world. And now, as the level sun shines out again beneath the pall of clouds, He whispers, as at Mary's knee in Nazareth, the old childish prayer and yields up His spirit into His Father's hands. The last Paradox, then, is uttered. He Who saves others cannot save Himself! The Shepherd of souls relinquishes His own. For, as we cannot save our lives unless we lose them for His sake, so He too cannot save them unless He loses His for our sake. I. This, then, is merely the summary of all that has gone before; it is the word _Finis_ written at the end of this new Book of Life which He has written in His Blood. It is the silence of the white space at the close of the last page. Yet it is, too, the final act that gives value to all that have preceded it. If Christ had not died, our faith would be vain. Oh! these New Theologies that see in Christ's Death merely the end of His Life! Why, it is the very point and climax of His Life that He should lay it down! Like Samson himself, that strange prototype of the Strong Man armed, he slew more of the enemies of our souls by His Death than by all His gracious Life. _For this cause He came into the world_. For Sacrifice, which is the very heart of man's instinctive worship of God, was set there, imperishably, in order to witness to and be ratified by His One Offering which alone could truly take away sins; and to deny it or to obscure it is to deny or to obscure the whole history of the human race, from the Death of Abel to the Death of Christ, to deny or obscure the significance of every lamb that bled in the Temple and of every wine-offering poured out before the Holy Place, to deny or to obscure (if we will but penetrate to the roots of things) the free will of Man and the Love of God. If Christ had not died, our faith would be vain. II. Once again, then, let us turn to the event in our own lives that closes them; that death which, united to Christ's, is our entrance into liberty and, disunited, the supreme horror of existence. (1) For without Christ death is a violent interruption to life, introducing us to a new existence of which we know nothing, or to no existence at all. Without Christ, however great our hopes, it is abrupt, appalling, stunning, and shattering. It is this at the best, and, at the worst, it is peaceful only as the death of a beast is peaceful. (2) Yet, with Christ, it is harmonious and continuous with all that has gone before, since it is the final movement of a life that is already _dead with Christ_, the last stage of a process of mortality, and the stage that ends its pain. It is just one more passing phase, by which is changed the key of that music that every holy life makes always before God. There is, then, the choice. We may, if we will, die fighting to the end a force that must conquer us however we may fight, resisting the irresistible. Or we may die, in lethargic resignation, as dogs die, without hopes or regrets, since the past, without Christ, is as meaningless as the future. Or we may die, like Christ, and with Him, yielding up a spirit that came from the Father back again into His Fatherly hands, content that He Who brought us into the world should receive us when we go out again, confident that, as the thread of His purpose is plain in earthly life, it shall shine yet more plainly in the life beyond. One last look, then, at Jesus shows us the lines smoothed from His face and the agony washed from His eyes. May our souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through His Mercy, rest in Him! XI LIFE AND DEATH _As dying, and behold we live_.--II COR. VI. 9. We have considered, so far, a number of paradoxical phenomena exhibited in the life of Catholicism and have attempted to find their reconciliation in the fact that the Catholic Church is at once Human and Divine. In her striving, for example, after a Divine and supernatural Peace, of which she alone possesses the secret, she _resists even unto blood_ all human attempts to supplant this by another. As a human society, again, she avails herself freely of human opportunities and aids, of earthly and created beauty, for the setting forth of her message; yet she can survive, as can no human society, when she is deprived of her human rights and her acquired wealth. As human she numbers the great multitude of the world's sinners among her children, yet as Divine she has produced the saints. As Divine she bases all her gospel on a Revelation which can be apprehended only by Faith, yet as human she employs the keenest and most profound intellects for its analysis and its propagation. In these and in many other similar points it has been attempted to show why she offers now one aspect and now another to human criticism, and how it is that the very charges made against her become, when viewed in the light of her double claim, actual credentials and arguments on behalf of that claim. Finally, in the meditations upon the _Seven Words_ of Christ, we considered very briefly how, in the hours of the deepest humiliation of His Humanity, He revealed again and again the characteristics of His Divinity. It now remains to consider that point in which she most manifests that double nature of hers and, simultaneously therefore, presents, as in a kind of climax, her identity, under human terms, with Him Who, Himself the Lord of Life, conquered death by submitting to it and, by His Resurrection from the dead, showed Himself _the Son of God with power_. I. Death, the world tells us, is the final end of all things, and is the one universal law of which evasion is impossible; and this is true, not of the individual only, but of society, of nations, of civilization, and even, it would seem, ultimately of physical life itself. Every vital energy therefore that we possess can be directed not to the abolition, but only to the postponement of this final full close to which the most ecstatic created harmony must come at last. Our physicians cannot heal us, they can merely ward off death for a little. Our statesmen cannot establish an eternal federation, they can but help to hold a crumbling society together for a little longer. Our civilization cannot really evolve an immortal superman, it can but render ordinary humanity a little less mortal, temporarily and in outward appearance. Death, then, in the world's opinion, is the duellist who is bound to win. We may parry, evade, leap aside for a little; we may even advance upon him and seem to threaten his very existence; our energies, in fact, must be concentrated upon this conflict if we are to survive at all. But it is only in seeming, at the best. The moment must come when, driven back to the last barrier, our last defence falters ... and Death has only to wipe his sword. Now the attitude of the Catholic Church towards Death is not only the most violent reversal of the world's policy, but the most paradoxical, too, of all her methods. For, while the world attempts to keep Death at arm's length, the Church strives to embrace him. Where the world draws his sword to meet Death's assault, the Church spreads her heart only to receive it. She is in love with Death, she pursues him, honours him, extols Him. She places over her altars not a Risen Christ, but a dying One. _If thou wilt be perfect_, she cries to the individual soul, _give up all that thou hast and follow me_. "Give up all that makes life worth living, strip thyself of every advantage that sustains thy life, of all that makes thee effective." It is this that is her supreme appeal, not indeed uttered, with all its corollaries, to all her children, but to those only that desire perfection. Yet to all, in a sense, the appeal is there. _Die daily_, die to self, mortify, yield, give in. If _any man will save his life, he must lose it_. So too, in her dealings with society, is her policy judged suicidal by a world that is in love with its own kind of life. It is suicidal, cries that world, to relinquish in France all on which the temporal life of the Church depends; for how can that society survive which renounces the very means of existence? It is suicidal to demand the virgin life of the noblest of her children, suicidal to desert the monarchical cause of one country, and to set herself in opposition to the Republican ideals of another. For even she, after all, is human and must conform to human conditions. Even she, however august her claims, must make terms with the world if she desires to live in it. And this comment has been made upon her actions in every age. She condemned Arius, when a little compromise might surely have been found; and lost half her children. She condemned Luther and lost Germany; Elizabeth, and lost England. At every crisis she has made the wrong choice, she has yielded when she should have resisted, resisted when she should have yielded. The wonder is that she survives at all. Yes, that is the wonder. _As dying, behold she lives_! II. The answer of course is easy. It is that she simply does not desire the kind of life which the world reckons alone to be life. To her that is not life at all. She desires of course to survive as a human society, and she is assured that she always shall so survive. Yet it is not on the ordinary terms of ordinary society that she desires survival. It is not a _natural_ life of which she is ambitious, a life that draws its strength from human conditions and human environment, a life, therefore, that waxes and wanes with those human conditions and ultimately meets their fate, but a _supernatural_ life that draws its strength from God. And she recognizes, as one of the most fundamental paradoxes of all, that such a life can be gained and held only through what the world calls "death." She does not, then, want merely the life of a prosperous human state, whether monarchy or republic. There are times indeed in her history when such an accompaniment to her real existence is useful to her effectiveness; and she has, of course, the right, as have other societies, to earthly dominions that may have been won and presented to her by her children. Or through her ministers, as in Paraguay, she may administer for a while the ordinary civil affairs of men who choose to be loyal to her government. Yet if, for one instant, such a responsibility were really to threaten her spiritual effectiveness--if, that is, the choice were really presented to her between spiritual and temporal dominion--she would let all the kingdoms of the world go in an instant, to retain her kingdom from God; she would gladly _suffer the loss of all things_ to retain Christ. And how is it possible to deny for one instant that her success has been startling and overwhelming--this fructification of Life by Death. Are there any human beings, for example, who have been more effective and influential than her saints--men and women, that is to say, who have _died daily_, in order to live indeed? They have not, it is true, prospered, let us say, as business men, directors of companies, or government officials, but such a success is simply not her ideal for them, not their own ideal for themselves. That is precisely the kind of life to which they have, as a rule, determinedly and perseveringly died. Yet their effectiveness in this world has been none the less. Are any kings remembered as is the beggar Labré who gnawed cabbage stalks in the gutters of Rome? Are the names of any statesmen of, let us say, even a hundred years ago, reverenced and repeated as is the name of the woman of Spain called Teresa of Jesus who, four hundred years ago, ruled a few nuns within the enclosure of a convent? Are any musicians or artists loved to-day with such rapture as is God's little troubadour, called Francis, who made music for himself and the angels by rubbing one stick across another? Or, again, is any empire that the world has ever seen so great, so loyally united in itself, so universal and yet so rigorous as is that spiritual empire whose capital is Rome? Is there any nation with so fierce a patriotism as she who is Supernational? Earthly kings speak from their thrones and what happens? And an old man in Rome who wears three crowns on his head speaks from his prison in the Vatican and all the earth rings with it. Has her policy, then, been so suicidal after all? From the world's point of view it has never been anything else. Her history is but one long example of the sacrifice of human activities and earthly opportunities; she has expelled from her pulpits the most brilliant of her children, she has silenced or alienated the most eloquent of her defenders. She has cut off from herself all that she should have kept, and hugged to her arms all that she should have relinquished! She has never done anything but die! She never does anything but live! III. Turn, then, to the life of her Lord for the solution of this riddle. Last week[1] He was going to His Death. He was losing, little by little, all that bound Him to Life. The multitudes that had followed Him hitherto were leaving Him by units and groups, they who might have formed His armies to seat Him on the throne of His father David. Disloyalty had made its way even among His chosen body-guard, and already Judas is bargaining for the price of His Master's blood. Even the most loyal of all are dismayed, and presently will _forsake Him and flee_ when the swords flash out in the garden of Gethsemane. A few weeks ago in Galilee thousands were leaving Him for the last time; and when, once again, a company seemed to rally, He wept! And so at last the sacrifice was complete and, one by one, He laid down of His own will every tie that kept Him in life. And then on Good Friday itself He suffered that beauty of His _Face to be marred_ so that no man would ever _desire Him_ any more, silenced the melody of the Voice that had broken so many hearts and made them whole again; He stretched out His Shepherd's Hands with which alone He could gather His sheep to His Breast, and the Feet that alone could bear Him into the wilderness to _seek after that which was lost_. Was there ever a Suicide such as this, such a despair of high hopes, such a ruin of all ambition, a dying so complete and irremediable as the Dying of Jesus Christ? [Footnote 1: This Sermon was preached on Easter Day.] And now on Easter Day look at Him again and see how He lives as never before. See how the Life that has been His for thirty years--the Life of God made Man--itself pales almost to a phantom before the glory of that same Life transfigured by Death. Three days ago He fainted beneath the scourge and nails; now He shows the very scars of His Passion to be the emblems of immortal strength. Three days ago He spoke in human words to those only that were near Him, and limited Himself under human terms of space and time; He speaks now in every heart. Three days ago He gave His Body to the few who knelt at His Table; to-day in ten thousand tabernacles that same Body may be worshipped by all who come. In a word, He has exchanged a Natural Life for a Supernatural in every plane at once. He has laid down the Natural Life of His Body to take it back again supernaturalized for ever. He has died that His Life may be released; He has _finished_ in order to begin. It is easy, then, to see why it is that the Church _dies daily_, why it is that she is content to be stripped of all that makes her life effective, why she too permits her hands to be bound and her feet fettered and her beauty marred and her voice silenced so far as men can do those things. She is human? Yes; she dwells in a _body that is prepared_ for her, but prepared chiefly that she may suffer in it. Her far-reaching hands are not hers merely that she may bind up with them the broken-hearted, nor her swift feet hers merely that she may run on them to succour the perishing, nor her head and heart hers merely that she may ponder and love. But all this sensitive human organism is hers that at last she may agonize in it, bleed from it from a thousand wounds, be lifted up in it to draw all men to her cross. She does not desire, then, in this world, the _throne of her Father David_, nor the kind of triumph which is the only kind that the world understands to be so. She desires one life and one triumph only--the Risen Life of her Saviour. And this, at last, is the transfiguration of her Humanity by the power of her Divinity and the vindication of them both. 
13204	----	SERMONS TO THE NATURAL MAN. BY WILLIAM G. T. SHEDD, D. D., AUTHOR OF "A HISTORY OF CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE," "HOMILETICS AND PASTORAL. THEOLOGY," "DISCOURSES AND ESSAYS," "PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY," ETC. NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER & CO., 654 BROADWAY. 1871. PREFACE. It is with a solemn feeling of responsibility that I send forth this volume of Sermons. The ordinary emotions of authorship have little place in the experience, when one remembers that what he says will be either a means of spiritual life, or an occasion of spiritual death. I believe that the substance of these Discourses will prove to accord with God's revealed truth, in the day that will try all truth. The title indicates their general aim and tendency. The purpose is psychological. I would, if possible, anatomize the natural heart. It is in vain to offer the gospel unless the law has been applied with clearness and cogency. At the present day, certainly, there is far less danger of erring in the direction of religious severity, than in the direction of religious indulgence. If I have not preached redemption in these sermons so fully as I have analyzed sin, it is because it is my deliberate conviction that just now the first and hardest work to be done by the preacher, for the natural man, is to produce in him some sensibility upon the subject of sin. Conscience needs to become consciousness. There is considerable theoretical unbelief respecting the doctrines of the New Testament; but this is not the principal difficulty. Theoretical skepticism is in a small minority of Christendom, and always has been. The chief obstacle to the spread of the Christian religion is the practical unbelief of speculative believers. "Thou sayest,"--says John Bunyan,--"thou dost in deed and in truth believe the Scriptures. I ask, therefore, Wast thou ever killed stark dead by the law of works contained in the Scriptures? Killed by the law or letter, and made to see thy sins against it, and left in an helpless condition by the law? For, the proper work of the law is to slay the soul, and to leave it dead in an helpless state. For, it doth neither give the soul any comfort itself, when it comes, nor doth it show the soul where comfort is to be had; and therefore it is called the 'ministration of condemnation,' the 'ministration of death.' For, though men may have a notion of the blessed Word of God, yet before they be converted, it may be truly said of them, Ye err, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the power of God." If it be thought that such preaching of the law can be dispensed with, by employing solely what is called in some quarters the preaching of the gospel, I do not agree with the opinion. The benefits of Christ's redemption are pearls which must not be cast before swine. The gospel is not for the stupid, or for the doubter,--still less for the scoffer. Christ's atonement is to be offered to conscious guilt, and in order to conscious guilt there must be the application of the decalogue. John Baptist must prepare the way for the merciful Redeemer, by legal and close preaching. And the merciful Redeemer Himself, in the opening of His ministry, and before He spake much concerning remission of sins, preached a sermon which in its searching and self-revelatory character is a more alarming address to the corrupt natural heart, than was the first edition of it delivered amidst the lightnings of Sinai. The Sermon on the Mount is called the Sermon of the Beatitudes, and many have the impression that it is a very lovely song to the sinful soul of man. They forget that the blessing upon obedience implies a _curse_ upon disobedience, and that every mortal man has disobeyed the Sermon on the Mount. "God save me,"--said a thoughtful person who knew what is in the Sermon on the Mount, and what is in the human heart,--"God save me from the Sermon on the Mount when I am judged in the last day." When Christ preached this discourse, He preached the law, principally. "Think not,"--He says,--"that I am come to destroy the law or the prophets. I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law till all be fulfilled." John the Baptist describes his own preaching, which was confessedly severe and legal, as being far less searching than that of the Messiah whose near advent he announced. "I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance: but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear: he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with _fire_; whose _fan_ is in his hand, and he will _thoroughly purge_ his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will _burn up the chaff_ with unquenchable fire." The general burden and strain of the Discourse with which the Redeemer opened His ministry is preceptive and mandatory. Its keynote is: "Thou shalt do this," and, "Thou shalt not do that;" "Thou shalt be thus, in thine heart," and, "Thou shalt not be thus, in thine heart." So little is said in it, comparatively, concerning what are called the doctrines of grace, that it has often been cited to prove that the creed of the Church has been expanded unduly, and made to contain more than the Founder of Christianity really intended it should. The absence, for example, of any direct and specific statement of the doctrine of Atonement, in this important section of Christ's teaching, has been instanced by the Socinian opponent as proof that this doctrine is not so vital as the Church has always claimed it to be. But, Christ was purposely silent respecting grace and its methods, until he had _spiritualized Law_, and made it penetrate the human consciousness like a sharp sword. Of what use would it have been to offer mercy, before the sense of its need had been elicited? and how was this to be elicited, but by the solemn and authoritative enunciation of law and justice? There are, indeed, cheering intimations, in the Sermon on the Mount, respecting the Divine mercy, and so there are in connection with the giving of the Ten Commandments. But law, rather than grace, is the main substance and burden of both. The great intention, in each instance, is to convince of sin, preparatory to the offer of clemency. The Decalogue is the legal basis of the Old Dispensation, and the Sermon on the Mount is the legal basis of the New. When the Redeemer, in the opening of His ministry, had provided the apparatus of conviction, then He provided the apparatus of expiation. The Great High-Priest, like the Levitical priest who typified Him, did not sprinkle atoning blood indiscriminately. It was to bedew only him who felt and confessed guilt. This legal and minatory element in the words of Jesus has also been noticed by the skeptic, and an argument has been founded upon it to prove that He was soured by ill-success, and, like other merely human reformers who have found the human heart too hard, for them, fell away from the gentleness with which He began His ministry, into the anger and denunciation of mortified ambition with which it closed. This is the picture of Jesus Christ which Rénan presents in his apocryphal Gospel. But the fact is, that the Redeemer _began_ with law, and was rigorous with sin from the very first. The Sermon on the Mount was delivered not far from twelve months from the time of His inauguration, by baptism, to the office of Messiah. And all along through His ministry of three years and a half, He constantly employs the law in order to prepare his hearers for grace. He was as gentle and gracious to the penitent sinner, in the opening of His ministry, as he was at the close of it; and He was as unsparing and severe towards the hardened and self-righteous sinner, in His early Judaean, as He was in His later Galilean ministry. It is sometimes said that the surest way to produce conviction of sin is to preach the Cross. There is a sense in which this is true, and there is a sense in which it is false. If the Cross is set forth as the cursed tree on which the Lord of Glory hung and suffered, to satisfy the demands of Eternal Justice, then indeed there is fitness in the preaching to produce the sense of guilt. But this is to preach the _law_, in its fullest extent, and the most tremendous energy of its claims. Such discourse as this must necessarily analyze law, define it, enforce it, and apply it in the most cogent manner. For, only as the atonement of Christ is shown to completely meet and satisfy all these _legal_ demands which have been so thoroughly discussed and exhibited, is the real virtue and power of the Cross made manifest. But if the Cross is merely held up as a decorative ornament, like that on the breast of Belinda, "which Jews might kiss and infidels adore;" if it be proclaimed as the beautiful symbol of the Divine indifference and indulgence, and there be a studious _avoiding_ of all judicial aspects and relations; if the natural man is not searched by law and alarmed by justice, but is only soothed and narcotized by the idea of an Epicurean deity destitute of moral anger and inflicting no righteous retribution,--then, there will be no conviction of sin. Whenever the preaching of the law is positively _objected_ to, and the preaching of the gospel is proposed in its place, it will be found that the "gospel" means that good-nature and that easy virtue which some mortals dare to attribute to the Holy and Immaculate Godhead! He who really, and in good faith, preaches the Cross, never opposes the preaching of the law. Still another reason for the kind of religious discourse which we are defending is found in the fact that multitudes are expecting a happy issue of this life, upon ethical as distinguished from evangelical grounds. They deny that they deserve damnation, or that they need Christ's atonement. They say that they are living virtuous lives, and are ready to adopt language similar to that of Mr. Mill spoken in another connection: "If from this position of integrity and morality we are to be sent to hell, to hell we will go." This tendency is strengthened by the current light letters, in distinction from standard literature. A certain class, through ephemeral essays, poems, and novels, has been plied with the doctrine of a natural virtue and an innate goodness, until it has become proud and self-reliant. The "manhood" of paganism is glorified, and the "childhood" of the gospel is vilified. The graces of humility, self-abasement before God, and especially of penitence for sin, are distasteful and loathed. Persons of this order prefer to have their religious teacher silent upon these themes, and urge them to courage, honor, magnanimity, and all that class of qualities which imply self-consciousness and self-reliance. To them apply the solemn words of the Son of God to the Pharisees: "If ye were blind, ye should have no sin: but now ye say, We _see_, therefore your sin remaineth." It is, therefore, specially incumbent upon the Christian ministry, to employ a searching and psychological style of preaching, and to apply the tests of ethics and virtue so powerfully to men who are trusting to ethics and virtue, as to bring them upon their knees. Since these men are desiring, like the "foolish Galatiana," to be saved by the law, then let the law be laid down to them, in all its breadth and reach, that they may understand the real nature and consequences of the position they have taken. "Tell me," says a preacher of this stamp,--"tell me, ye that desire to be under the law, do ye not hear the law,"--do ye not hear its thundering,--"_cursed_ is every one that continueth not in ALL things that are written in the law, to do them!" Virtue must be absolutely perfect and spotless, if a happy immortality is to be made to depend upon virtue. If the human heart, in its self-deception and self-reliance, turns away from the Cross and the righteousness of God, to morals and the righteousness of works, then let the Christian thinker follow after it like the avenger of blood. Let him set the heights and depths of ethical _perfection_ before the deluded mortal; let him point to the inaccessible cliffs that tower high above, and bid him scale them if he can; let him point to the fathomless abysses beneath, and tell him to descend and bring up perfect virtue therefrom; let him employ the very instrument which this _virtuoso_ has chosen, until it becomes an instrument of torture and self-despair. In this way, he is breaking down the "manhood" that confronts and opposes, and is bringing in the "childhood" that is docile, and recipient of the kingdom. These Sermons run the hazard of being pronounced monotonous, because of the pertinacity with which the attempt is made to force self-reflection. But this criticism can easily be endured, provided the attempt succeeds. Religious truth becomes almighty the instant it can get _within_ the soul; and it gets within the soul, the instant real thinking begins. "As you value your peace of mind, stop all scrutiny into your personal character," is the advice of what Milton denominates "the sty of Epicurus." The discouraging religious condition of the present age is due to the great lack, not merely in the lower but the higher classes, of calm, clear self-intelligence. Men do not know themselves. The Delphic oracle was never less obeyed than now, in this vortex of mechanical arts and luxury. For this reason, it is desirable that the religious teacher dwell consecutively upon topics that are connected with that which is _within_ man,--his settled motives of action, and all those spontaneous on-goings of his soul of which he takes no notice, unless he is persuaded or impelled to do so. Some of the old painters produced powerful effects by one solitary color. The subject of moral evil contemplated in the heart of the individual man,--not described to him from the outside, but wrought out of his own being into incandescent letters, by the fierce chemistry of anxious perhaps agonizing reflection,--sin, the one awful fact in the history of man, if caused to pervade discourse will always impart to it a hue which, though it be monochromatic, arrests and holds the eye like the lurid color of an approaching storm-cloud. With this statement respecting the aim and purport of these Sermons, and deeply conscious of their imperfections, especially for spiritual purposes, I send them out into the world, with the prayer that God the Spirit will deign to employ them as the means of awakening some souls from the lethargy of sin. Union Theological Seminary, New York, _February 17_, 1871. * * * * * CONTENTS. I. THE FUTURE STATE A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE II. THE FUTURE STATE A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE (continued) III. GOD'S EXHAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN IV. GOD'S EXHAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN (continued) V. ALL MANKIND GUILTY; OR, EVERY MAN KNOWS MORE THAN HE PRACTISES VI. SIN IN THE HEART THE SOURCE OF ERROR IN THE HEAD VII. THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES VIII. THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES (continued) IX. THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW X. SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOD'S PRESENCE XI. SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY XII. THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL RELATION OF MAN TO LAW XIII. THE SIN OF OMISSION XIV. THE SINFULNESS OF ORIGINAL SIN XV. THE APPROBATION OF GOODNESS IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT XVI. THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION XVII. THE PRESENT LIFE AS BELATED TO THE FUTURE XVIII. THE EXERCISE OF MERCY OPTIONAL WITH GOD XIX. CHRISTIANITY REQUIRES THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD XX. FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT SERMONS. THE FUTURE STATE A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE. 1 Cor. xiii. 12.--"Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." The apostle Paul made this remark with reference to the blessedness of the Christian in eternity. Such assertions are frequent in the Scriptures. This same apostle, whose soul was so constantly dilated with the expectation of the beatific vision, assures the Corinthians, in another passage in this epistle, that "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him." The beloved disciple John, also, though he seems to have lived in the spiritual world while he was upon the earth, and though the glories of eternity were made to pass before him in the visions of Patmos, is compelled to say of the sons of God, "It doth not yet appear what we shall be." And certainly the common Christian, as he looks forward with a mixture of hope and anxiety to his final state in eternity, will confess that he knows but "in part," and that a very small part, concerning it. He endures as seeing that which is invisible, and cherishes the hope that through Christ's redemption his eternity will be a condition of peace and purity, and that he shall know even as also he is known. But it is not the Christian alone who is to enter eternity, and to whom the exchange of worlds will bring a luminous apprehension of many things that have hitherto been seen only through a glass darkly. Every human creature may say, when he thinks of the alteration that will come over his views of religious subjects upon entering another life, "Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. I am now in the midst of the vapors and smoke of this dim spot which men call earth, but then shall I stand in the dazzling light of the face of God, and labor under no doubt or delusion respecting my own character or that of my Eternal Judge." A moment's reflection will convince any one, that the article and fact of death must of itself make a vast accession to the amount of a man's knowledge, because death introduces him into an entirely new state of existence. Foreign travel adds much to our stock of ideas, because we go into regions of the earth of which we had previously known only by the hearing of the ear. But the great and last journey that man takes carries him over into a province of which no book, not even the Bible itself, gives him any distinct cognition, as to the style of its scenery or the texture of its objects. In respect to any earthly scene or experience, all men stand upon substantially the same level of information, because they all have substantially the same data for forming an estimate. Though I may never have been in Italy, I yet know that the soil of Italy is a part of the common crust of the globe, that the Apennines are like other mountains which I have seen, that the Italian sunlight pours through the pupil like any other sunlight, and that the Italian breezes fan the brow like those of the sunny south the world over. I understand that the general forms of human consciousness in Europe and Asia, are like those in America. The operations of the five senses are the same in the Old World that they are in the New. But what do I know of the surroundings and experience of a man who has travelled from time into eternity? Am I not completely baffled, the moment I attempt to construct the consciousness of the unearthly state? I have no materials out of which to build it, because it is not a world of sense and matter, like that which I now inhabit. But death carries man over into the new and entirely different mode of existence, so that he knows by direct observation and immediate intuition. A flood of new information pours in upon the disembodied spirit, such as he cannot by any possibility acquire upon earth, and yet such as he cannot by any possibility escape from in his new residence. How strange it is, that the young child, the infant of days, in the heart of Africa, by merely dying, by merely passing from time into eternity, acquires a kind and grade of knowledge that is absolutely inaccessible to the wisest and subtlest philosopher while here on earth![1] The dead Hottentot knows more than the living Plato. But not only does the exchange of worlds make a vast addition to our stores of information respecting the nature of the invisible realm, and the mode of existence there, it also makes a vast addition to the kind and degree of our knowledge respecting _ourselves_, and our personal relationships to God. This is by far the most important part of the new acquisition which we gain by the passage from time to eternity, and it is to this that the Apostle directs attention in the text. It is not so much the world that will be around us, when we are beyond the tomb, as it is the world that will be within us, that is of chief importance. Our circumstances in this mode of existence, and in any mode of existence, are arranged by a Power above us, and are, comparatively, matters of small concern; but the persons that we ourselves verily are, the characters which we bring into this environment, the little inner world of thought and feeling which is to be inclosed and overarched in the great outer world of forms and objects,--all this is matter of infinite moment and anxiety to a responsible creature. For the text teaches, that inasmuch as the future life is the _ultimate_ state of being for an immortal spirit, all that imperfection and deficiency in knowledge which appertains to this present life, this "ignorant present" time, must disappear. When we are in eternity, we shall not be in the dark and in doubt respecting certain great questions and truths that sometimes raise a query in our minds here. Voltaire now knows whether there is a sin-hating God, and David Hume now knows whether there is an endless hell. I may, in certain moods of my mind here upon earth, query whether I am accountable and liable to retribution, but the instant I shall pass from this realm of shadows, all this skepticism will be banished forever from my mind. For the future state is the _final_ state, and hence all questions are settled, and all doubts are resolved. While upon earth, the arrangements are such that we cannot see every thing, and must walk by faith, because it is a state of probation; but when once in eternity, all the arrangements are such that we cannot but see every thing, and must walk by sight, because it is the state of adjudication. Hence it is, that the preacher is continually urging men to view things, so far as is possible, in the light of eternity, as the only light that shines clearly and without refractions. Hence it is, that he importunes his hearers to estimate their duties, and their relationships, and their personal character, as they will upon the death-bed, because in the solemn hour of death the light of the future state begins to dawn upon the human soul. It is very plain that if a spiritual man like the apostle Paul, who in a very remarkable degree lived with reference to the future world, and contemplated subjects in the light of eternity, was compelled to say that he knew but "in part," much more must the thoughtless natural man confess his ignorance of that which will meet him when his spirit returns to God. The great mass of mankind are totally vacant of any just apprehension of what will be their state of mind, upon being introduced into God's presence. They have never seriously considered what must be the effect upon their views and feelings, of an entire withdrawment from the scenes and objects of earth, and an entrance into those of the future state. Most men are wholly engrossed in the present existence, and do not allow their thoughts to reach over into that invisible region which revelation discloses, and which the uncontrollable workings of conscience sometimes _force_ upon their attention for a moment. How many men there are, whose sinful and thoughtless lives prove that they are not aware that the future world will, by its very characteristics, fill them with a species and a grade of information that will be misery unutterable. Is it not the duty and the wisdom of all such, to attempt to conjecture and anticipate the coming experience of the human soul in the day of judgment and the future life, in order that by repentance toward God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ they may be able to stand in that day? Let us then endeavor to know, at least "in part," concerning the eternal state. The latter clause of the text specifies the general characteristic of existence in the future world. It is a mode of existence in which the rational mind "_knows_ even as it is known." It is a world of knowledge,--of conscious knowledge. In thus unequivocally asserting that our existence beyond the tomb is one of distinct consciousness, revelation has taught us what we most desire and need to know. The first question that would be raised by a creature who was just to be launched out upon an untried mode of existence would be the question: "Shall I be _conscious_?" However much he might desire to know the length and breadth of the ocean upon which his was to set sail, the scenery that was to be above him and around him in his coming history,--nay, however much he might wish to know of matters still closer to himself than these; however much he might crave to ask of his Maker, "With what body shall I come?" all would be set second to the simple single inquiry: "Shall I think, shall I feel, shall I know?" In answering this question in the affirmative, without any hesitation or ambiguity, the apostle Paul has in reality cleared up most of the darkness that overhangs the future state. The structure of the spiritual body, and the fabric of the immaterial world, are matters of secondary importance, and may be left without explanation, provided only the rational mind of man be distinctly informed that it shall not sleep in unconsciousness, and that the immortal spark shall not become such stuff as dreams are made of. The future, then, is a mode of existence in which the soul "knows even as it is known." But this involves a perception in which there is no error, and no intermission. For, the human spirit in eternity "is known" by the omniscient God. If, then, it knows in the style and manner that God knows, there can be no misconception or cessation in its cognition. Here, then, we have a glimpse into the nature of our eternal existence. It is a state of distinct and unceasing knowledge of moral truth and moral objects. The human spirit, be it holy or sinful, a friend or an enemy of God, in eternity will always and forever be aware of it. There is no forgetting in the future state; there is no dissipation of the mind there; and there is no aversion of the mind from itself. The cognition is a fixed quantity. Given the soul, and the knowledge is given. If it be holy, it is always conscious of the fact. If it be sinful, it cannot for an instant lose the distressing consciousness of sin. In neither instance will it be necessary, as it generally is in this life, to make a special effort and a particular examination, in order to know the personal character. Knowledge of God and His law, in the future life, is spontaneous and inevitable; no creature can escape it; and therefore the bliss is _unceasing_ in heaven, and the misery is _unceasing_ in hell. There are no states of thoughtlessness and unconcern in the future life, because there is not an instant of forgetfulness or ignorance of the personal character and condition. In the world beyond this, every man will constantly and distinctly know what he is, and what he is not, because he will "be known" by the omniscient and unerring God, and will himself know in the same constant and distinct style and manner. If the most thoughtless person that now walks the globe could only have a clear perception of that kind of knowledge which is awaiting him upon the other side of the tomb, he would become the most thoughtful and the most anxious of men. It would sober him like death itself. And if any unpardoned man should from this moment onward be haunted with the thought, "When I die I shall enter into the light of God's countenance, and obtain a knowledge of my own character and obligations that will be as accurate and unvarying as that of God himself upon this subject," he would find no rest until he had obtained an assurance of the Divine mercy, and such an inward change as would enable him to endure this deep and full consciousness of the purity of God and of the state of his heart. It is only because a man is unthinking, or because he imagines that the future world will be like the present one, only longer in duration, that he is so indifferent regarding it. Here is the difficulty of the case, and the fatal mistake which the natural man makes. He supposes that the views which he shall have upon religious subjects in the eternal state, will be very much as they are in this,--vague, indistinct, fluctuating, and therefore causing no very great anxiety. He can pass days and weeks here in time without thinking of the claims of God upon him, and he imagines that the same thing is possible in eternity. While here upon earth, he certainly does not "know even as also he is known," and he hastily concludes that so it will be beyond the grave. It is because men imagine that eternity is only a very long space of _time_, filled up, as time here is, with dim, indistinct apprehensions, with a constantly shifting experience, with shallow feelings and ever diversified emotions, in fine, with all the _variety_ of pleasure and pain, of ignorance and knowledge, that pertains to this imperfect and probationary life,--it is because mankind thus conceive of the final state, that it exerts no more influence over them. But such is not its true idea. There is a marked difference between the present and the future life, in respect to uniformity and clearness of knowledge. "Now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known." The text and the whole teaching of the New Testament prove that the invisible world is the unchangeable one; that there are no alterations of character, and consequently no alternations of experience, in the future life; that there are no transitions, as there are in this checkered scene of earth, from happiness to unhappiness and back again. There is but one uniform type of experience for an individual soul in eternity. That soul is either uninterruptedly happy, or uninterruptedly miserable, because it has either an uninterrupted sense of holiness, or an uninterrupted sense of sin. He that is righteous is righteous still, and knows it continually; and he that is filthy is filthy still, and knows it incessantly. If we enter eternity as the redeemed of the Lord, we take over the holy heart and spiritual affections of regeneration, and there is no change but that of progression,--a change, consequently, only in degree, but none of kind or type. The same knowledge and experience that we have here "in part" we shall have there in completeness and permanency. And the same will be true, if the heart be evil and the affections inordinate and earthly. And all this, simply because the mind's knowledge is clear, accurate, and constant. That which the transgressor knows here of God and his own heart, but imperfectly, and fitfully, and briefly, he shall know there perfectly, and constantly, and everlastingly. The law of constant evolution, and the characteristic of unvarying uniformity, will determine and fix the type of experience in the evil as it does in the good. Such, then, is the general nature of knowledge in the future state. It is distinct, accurate, unintermittent, and unvarying. We shall know even as we are known, and we are known by the omniscient and unerring Searcher of hearts. Let us now apply this general characteristic of cognition in eternity to some particulars. Let us transfer our minds into the future and final state, and mark what goes on within them there. We ought often to enter this mysterious realm, and become habituated to its mental processes, and by a wise anticipation become prepared for the reality itself. I. The human mind, in eternity, will have a distinct and unvarying perception of the _character of God_. And that one particular attribute in this character, respecting which the cognition will be of the most luminous quality, is the Divine holiness. In eternity, the immaculateness of the Deity will penetrate the consciousness of every rational creature with the subtlety and the thoroughness of fire. God's essence is infinitely pure, and intensely antagonistic to sin, but it is not until there is a direct contact between it and the human mind, that man understands it and feels it. "I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth Thee, and I abhor myself." Even the best of men know but "in part" concerning the holiness of God. Yet it is noticeable how the apprehension of it grows upon the ripening Christian, as he draws nearer to the time of his departure. The vision of the cherubim themselves seems to dawn upon the soul of a Leighton and an Edwards, and though it does not in the least disturb their saintly and seraphic peace, because they are sheltered in the clefts of the Rock of Ages, as the brightness passes by them, it does yet bring out from their comparatively holy and spiritual hearts the utterance, "Behold I am vile; infinite upon, infinite is my sin." But what shall be said of the common and ordinary knowledge of mankind, upon this subject! Except at certain infrequent times, the natural man does not know even "in part," respecting the holiness of God, and hence goes on in transgression without anxiety or terror. It is the very first work of prevenient grace, to disclose to the human mind something of the Divine purity; and whoever, at any moment, is startled by a more than common sense of God's holy character, should regard it and cherish it as a token of benevolence and care for his soul. Now, in eternity this species of knowledge must exist in the very highest degree. The human soul will be encircled by the character and attributes of God. It cannot look in any direction without beholding it. It is not so here. Here, in this life, man may and does avert his eye, and refuse to look at the sheen and the splendor that pains his organ. He fastens his glance upon the farm, or the merchandise, or the book, and perseveringly determines not to see the purity of God that rebukes him. And _here_ he can succeed. He can and does live days and months without so much as a momentary glimpse of his Maker, and, as the apostle says, is "without God" in this world. And yet such men do have, now and then, a view of the face of God. It may be for an instant only. It may be merely a thought, a gleam, a flash; and yet, like that quick flash of lightning, of which our Lord speaks, that lighteneth out of the one part of heaven, and shineth unto the other part, that cometh out of the East and shineth even unto the West,--like that swift momentary flash which runs round the whole horizon in the twinkling of an eye, this swift thought and gleam of God's purity fills the whole guilty soul full of light. What spiritual distress seizes the man in such moments, and of what a penetrating perception of the Divine character is he possessed for an instant! It is a distinct and an accurate knowledge, but, unlike the cognition of the future state, it is not yet an inevitable and unintermittent one. He can expel it, and become again an ignorant and indifferent being, as he was before. He knows but "in part" at the very best, and this only temporarily. But carry this rational and accountable creature into eternity, denude him of the body of sense, and take him out of the busy and noisy world of sense into the silent world of spirits, and into the immediate presence of God, and then he will know upon this subject even as he is known. That sight and perception of God's purity which he had here for a brief instant, and which was so painful because he was not in sympathy with it, has now become everlasting. That distinct and accurate knowledge of God's character has now become his only knowledge. That flash of lightning has become light,--fixed, steady, permanent as the orb of day. The rational spirit cannot for an instant rid itself of the idea of God. Never for a moment, in the endless cycles, can it look away from its Maker; for in His presence what other object is there to look at? Time itself, with its pursuits and its objects of thought and feeling, is no longer, for the angel hath sworn it by Him who liveth for ever and ever. There is nothing left, then, to occupy and engross the attention but the character and attributes of God; and, now, the immortal mind, created for such a purpose, must yield itself up to that contemplation which in this life it dreaded and avoided. The future state of every man is to be an open and unavoidable vision of God. If he delights in the view, he will be blessed; if he loathes it, he will be miserable. This is the substance of heaven and hell. This is the key to the eternal destiny of every human soul. If a man love God, he shall gaze at him and adore; if he hate God, he shall gaze at him and gnaw his tongue for pain. The subject, as thus far unfolded, teaches the following lessons: 1. In the first place, it shows that _a false theory of the future state will not protect a man from future misery_. For, we have seen that the eternal world, by its very structure and influences, throws a flood of light upon the Divine character, causing it to appear in its ineffable purity and splendor, and compels every creature to stand out in that light. There is no darkness in which man can hide himself, when he leaves this world of shadows. A false theory, therefore, respecting God, can no more protect a man from the reality, the actual matter of fact, than a false theory of gravitation will preserve a man from falling from a precipice into a bottomless abyss. Do you come to us with the theory that every human creature will be happy in another life, and that the doctrine of future misery is false? We tell you, in reply, that God is _holy_, beyond dispute or controversy; that He cannot endure the sight of sin; and that in the future world every one of His creatures must see Him precisely as He is, and know Him in the real and eternal qualities of His nature. The man, therefore, who is full of sin, whose heart is earthly, sensual, selfish, must, when he approaches that pure Presence, find that his theory of future happiness shrivels up like the heavens themselves, before the majesty and glory of God. He now stands face to face with a Being whose character has never dawned upon him with such a dazzling purity, and to dispute the reality would be like disputing the fierce splendor of the noonday sun. Theory must give way to fact, and the deluded mortal must submit to its awful force. In this lies the _irresistible_ power of death, judgment, and eternity, to alter the views of men. Up to these points they can dispute and argue, because there is no ocular demonstration. It is possible to debate the question this side of the tomb, because we are none of us face to face with God, and front to front with eternity. In the days of Noah, before the flood came, there was skepticism, and many theories concerning the threatened deluge. So long as the sky was clear, and the green earth smiled under the warm sunlight, it was not difficult for the unbeliever to maintain an argument in opposition to the preacher of righteousness. But when the sky was rent with lightnings, and the earth was scarred with thunder-bolts, and the fountains of the great deep were broken up, where was the skepticism? where were the theories? where were the arguments? When God teaches, "Where is the wise? where is the scribe? where is the disputer of this world?" They then knew as they were known; they stood face to face with the facts. It is this _inevitableness_ of the demonstration upon which we would fasten attention. We are not always to live in this world of shadows. We are going individually into the very face and eyes of Jehovah, and whatever notions we may have adopted and maintained must all disappear, except as they shall be actually verified by what we shall see and know in that period of our existence when we shall perceive with the accuracy and clearness of God Himself. Our most darling theories, by which we may have sought to solace our souls in reference to our future destiny, if false, will be all ruthlessly torn away, and we must see what verily and eternally is. All mankind come upon one doctrinal platform when they enter eternity. They all have one creed there. There is not a skeptic even in hell. The devils believe and tremble. The demonstration that God is holy is so irrefragable, so complete and absolute, that doubt or denial is impossible in any spirit that has passed the line between time and eternity. 2. In the second place, this subject shows that _indifference and carelessness respecting the future life will not protect the soul from future misery_. There may be no false theory adopted, and yet if there be no thoughtful preparation to meet God, the result will be all the same. I may not dispute the Newtonian theory of gravitation, yet if I pay no heed to it, if I simply forget it, as I clamber up mountains, and walk by the side of precipices, my body will as surely be dashed to pieces as if I were a theoretical skeptic upon the subject of gravitation. The creature's indifference can no more alter the immutable nature of God, than can the creature's false reasoning, or false theorizing. That which is settled in heaven, that which is fixed and eternal, stands the same stern, relentless fact under all circumstances. We see the operation of this sometimes here upon earth, in a very impressive manner. A youth or a man simply neglects the laws and conditions of physical well-being. He does not dispute them. He merely pays no attention to them. A. few years pass by, and disease and torturing pain become his portion. He comes now into the awful presence of the powers and the facts which the Creator has inlaid in the world, of physical existence. He knows now even as he is known. And the laws are stern. He finds no place of repentance in them, though he seek it carefully with tears. The laws never repent, never change their mind. The principles of physical life and growth which he has never disputed, but which he has never regarded, now crush him into the ground in their relentless march and motion. Precisely so will it be in the moral world, and with reference to the holiness of God. That man who simply neglects to prepare himself to see a holy God, though he never denies that there is such a Being, will find the vision just as unendurable to him, as it is to the most determined of earthly skeptics. So far as the final result in the other world is concerned, it matters little whether a man adds unbelief to his carelessness, or not. The carelessness will ruin his soul, whether with or without skepticism. Orthodoxy is valuable only as it inspires the hope that it will end in timely and practical attention to the concerns of the soul. But if you show me a man who you infallibly know will go through life careless and indifferent, I will show you a man who will not be prepared to meet God face to face, even though his theology be as accurate as that of St. Paul himself. Nay, we have seen that there is a time coming when all skeptics will become believers like the devils themselves, and will tremble at the ocular demonstration of truths which they have heretofore denied. Theoretical unbelief must be a temporary affair in every man; for it can last only until he dies. Death will make all the world theoretically orthodox, and bring them all to one and the same creed. But death will not bring them all to one and the same happy experience of the truth, and lave of the creed. For those who have made preparation for the vision of God and the ocular demonstration of Divine truth, these will rise upon their view with a blessed and glorious light. But for those who have remained sinful and careless, these eternal truths and facts will be a vision of terror and despair. They will not alter. No man will find any place of repentance in them, though, like Esau, he seek it carefully and with tears. 3. In the third place, this subject shows that _only faith in Christ and a new heart can protect the soul from future misery_. The nature and character of God cannot be altered, and therefore the change must be wrought in man's soul. The disposition and affections of the heart must be brought into such sweet sympathy and harmony with God's holiness, that when in the next world that holiness shall be revealed as it is to the seraphim, it will fall in upon the soul like the rays of a vernal sun, starting every thing into cheerful life and joy. If the Divine holiness does not make this impression, it produces exactly the contrary effect. If the sun's rays do not start the bud in the spring, they kill it. If the vision of a holy God is not our heaven, then it must be our hell. Look then directly into your heart, and tell us which is the impression for you. Can you say with David, "We give thanks and rejoice, at the remembrance of Thy holiness?" Are you glad that there is such a pure and immaculate Being upon the throne, and when His excellence abashes you, and rebukes your corruption and sin, do you say, "Let the righteous One smite me, it shall be a kindness?" Do you _love_ God's holy character? If so, you are a new creature, and are ready for the vision of God, face to face. For you, to know God even as you are known by Him will not be a terror, but a glory and a joy. You are in sympathy with Him. You have been reconciled to Him by the blood of atonement, and brought into harmony with Him by the washing of regeneration. For you, as a believer in Christ, and a new man in Christ Jesus, all is well. The more you see of God, the more you desire to see of Him; and the more you know of Him, the more you long to know. But if this is not your experience, then all is ill with you. We say _experience_. You must _feel_ in this manner toward God, or you cannot endure the vision which is surely to break upon you after death. You must _love_ this holiness without which no man can see the Lord. You may approve of it, you may praise it in other men, but if there is no affectionate going out of your own heart toward, the holy God, you are not in right relations to Him. You have the carnal mind, and that is enmity, and enmity is misery. Look these facts in the eye, and act accordingly. "Make the _tree_ good, and his fruit good," says Christ. Begin at the beginning. Aim at nothing less than a change of disposition and affections. Ask for nothing less, seek for nothing less. If you become inwardly holy as God is holy; if you become a friend of God, reconciled to Him by the blood of Christ; then your nature will be like God's nature, your character like God's character. Then, when you shall know God even as you are known by Him, and shall see Him as He is, the knowledge and the vision will be everlasting joy. [Footnote 1: "She has seen the mystery hid, Under Egypt's pyramid; By those eyelids pale and close, Now she knows what Rhamses knows." ELIZABETH BROWNING: On the Death of a Child.] THE FUTURE STATE A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE. 1 COR. xiii. 12.--"Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." In the preceding discourse, we found in these words the principal characteristic of our future existence. The world beyond the tomb is a world of clear and conscious knowledge. When, at death, I shall leave this region of time and sense and enter eternity, my knowledge, the apostle Paul tells me instead of being diminished or extinguished by the dissolution, of the body, will not only be continued to me, but will be even greater and clearer than before. He assures me that the kind and style of my cognition will be like that of God himself. I am to know as I am known. My intelligence will coincide with that of Deity. By this we are not to understand that the creature's knowledge, in the future state, will be as extensive as that of the Omniscient One; or that it will be as profound and exhaustive as His. The infinitude of things can be known only by the Infinite Mind; and the creature will forever be making new acquisitions, and never reaching the final limit of truths and facts. But upon certain moral subjects, the perception of the creature will be like that of his Maker and Judge, so far as the _kind_ or _quality_ of the apprehension is concerned. Every man in eternity, for illustration, will see sin to be an odious and abominable thing, contrary to the holy nature of God, and awakening in that nature the most holy and awful displeasure. His knowledge upon this subject will be so identical with that of God, that he will be unable to palliate or excuse his transgressions, as he does in this world. He will see them precisely as God sees them. He must know them as God knows them, because he will "know even as he is known." II. In continuing the examination of this solemn subject, we remark as a second and further characteristic of the knowledge which every man will possess in eternity, that he will know _himself_ even as he is known by God. His knowledge of God we have found to be direct, accurate, and unceasing; his knowledge of his own heart will be so likewise. This follows from the relation of the two species of cognition to each other. The true knowledge of God involves the true knowledge of self. The instant that any one obtains a clear view of the holy nature of his Maker, he obtains a clear view of his own sinful nature. Philosophers tell us, that our consciousness of God and our consciousness of self mutually involve and imply each other[1]; in other words, that we cannot know God without immediately knowing ourselves, any more than we can know light without knowing darkness, any more than we can have the idea of right without having the idea of wrong. And it is certainly true that so soon as any being can intelligently say, "God is holy," he can and must say, "I am holy," or, "I am unholy," as the fact may be. Indeed, the only way in which man can truly know himself is to contrast himself with his Maker; and the most exhaustive self-knowledge and self-consciousness is to be found, not in the schools of secular philosophy but, in the searchings of the Christian heart,--in the "Confessions" of Augustine; in the labyrinthine windings of Edwards "On the Affections." Hence the frequent exhortations in the Bible to look at the character of God, in order that we may know ourselves and be abased by the contrast. In eternity, therefore, if we must have a clear and constant perception of God's character, we must necessarily have a distinct and unvarying knowledge of our own. It is not so here. Here in this world, man knows himself but "in part." Even when he endeavors to look within, prejudice and passion often affect his judgment; but more often, the fear of what he shall discover in the secret places of his soul deters him from making the attempt at self-examination. For it is a surprising truth that the transgressor dares not bring out into the light that which is most truly his own, that which he himself has originated, and which he loves and cherishes with all his strength and might. He is afraid of his own heart! Even when God forces the vision of it upon him, he would shut his eyes; or if this be not possible, he would look through distorting media and see it with a false form and coloring. "But 'tis not so above; There is no shuffling; there the action lies In his true nature: and we ourselves compelled, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence."[2] The spirit that has come into the immediate presence of God, and beholds Him face to face, cannot deceive Him, and therefore cannot deceive itself. It cannot remain ignorant of God's character any longer, and therefore cannot remain ignorant of its own. We do not sufficiently consider and ponder the elements of anguish that are sleeping in the fact that in eternity a sinner _must_ know God's character, and therefore _must_ know his own. It is owing to their neglect of such subjects, that mankind so little understand what an awful power there is in the distinct perception of the Divine purity, and the allied consciousness of sin. Lord Bacon tells us that the knowledge acquired in the schools is power; but it is weakness itself, if compared with that form and species of cognition which is given to the mind of man by the workings of conscience in the light of the Divine countenance. If a transgressor knew clearly what disclosures of God's immaculateness and of his own character must be made to him in eternity, he would fear them, if unprepared, far more than physical sufferings. If he understood what capabilities for distress the rational spirit possesses in its own mysterious constitution, if when brought into contact with the Divine purity it has no sympathy with it, but on the contrary an intense hostility; if he knew how violent will be the antagonism between God's holiness and man's sin when, the two are finally brought together, the assertion that there is no external source of anguish in hell, even if it were true, would afford him no relief. Whoever goes into the presence of God with a corrupt heart carries thither a source of sorrow that is inexhaustible, simply because that corrupt heart must be _distinctly known_, and _perpetually understood_ by its possessor, in that Presence. The thoughtless man may never know while upon earth, even "in part," the depth and the bitterness of this fountain,--he may go through this life for the most part self-ignorant and undistressed,--but he must know in that other, final, world the immense fulness of its woe, as it unceasingly wells up into everlasting death. One theory of future punishment is, that our globe will become a penal orb of fire, and the wicked with material bodies, miraculously preserved by Omnipotence, will burn forever in it. But what is this compared with the suffering soul? The spirit itself, thus alienated from God's purity and _conscious_ that it is, wicked, and _knowing_ that it is wicked, becomes an "orb of fire." "It is,"--says John Howe, who was no fanatic, but one of the most thoughtful and philosophic of Christians,--"it is a throwing hell into hell, when a wicked man comes to hell; for he was his own hell before."[3] It must ever be borne in mind, that the principal source and seat of future torment will be the sinner's _sin_. We must never harbor the thought, or fall into the notion, that the retributions of eternity are a wanton and arbitrary infliction upon the part of God. Some men seem to suppose, or at any rate they represent, that the woes of hell are a species of undeserved suffering; that God, having certain helpless and innocent creatures in His power, visits them with wrath, in the exercise of an arbitrary sovereignty. But this is not Christ's doctrine of endless punishment. There is no suffering inflicted, here or hereafter, upon any thing but _sin,_--unrepented, incorrigible sin,--and if you will show me a sinless creature, I will show you one who will never feel the least twinge or pang through all eternity. Death is the wages of _sin_. The substance of the wretchedness of the lost will issue right out of their own character. They will see their own wickedness steadily and clearly, and this will make them miserable. It will be the carrying out of the same principle that operates here in time, and in our own daily experience. Suppose that by some method, all the sin of my heart, and all the sins of my outward conduct, were made clear to my own view; suppose that for four-and-twenty hours continuously I were compelled to look at my wickedness intently, just as I would look intently into a burning furnace of fire; suppose that for this length of time I should see nothing, and hear nothing, and experience nothing of the world, about me, but should be absorbed in the vision of my own disobedience of God's good law, think you that (setting aside the work of Christ) I should be happy? On the contrary, should I not be the most wretched of mortals? Would not this self-knowledge be pure living torment? And yet the misery springs entirely out of the _sin_. There is nothing arbitrary or wanton in the suffering. It is not brought in upon me from the outside. It comes out of myself. And, while I was writhing under the sense and power of my transgressions, would you mock me, by telling me that I was a poor innocent struggling in the hands of omnipotent malice; that the suffering was unjust, and that if there were any justice in the universe, I should be delivered from it? No, we shall suffer in the future world only as we are sinners, and because we are sinners. There will be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, only because the sinful creature will be compelled to look at himself; to know his sin in the same manner that it is known by the Infinite Intelligence. And is there any injustice in this? If a sinful being cannot bear the sight of himself, would you have the holy Deity step in between him and his sins, so that he should not see them, and so that he might be happy in them? Away with such folly and such wickedness. For it is the height of wickedness to desire that some method should be invented, and introduced into the universe of God, whereby the wages of sin shall be life and joy; whereby a sinner can look into his own wicked heart and be happy. III. A third characteristic of the knowledge which every man will possess in eternity will be a clear understanding of _the nature and wants of the soul._ Man has that in his constitution, which needs God, and which cannot be at rest except in God. A state of sin is a state of alienation and separation from the Creator. It is, consequently, in its intrinsic nature, a state of restlessness and dissatisfaction. "There is no peace saith my God to the wicked; the wicked are like the troubled sea." In order to know this, it is only necessary to bring an apostate creature, like man, to a consciousness of the original requirements and necessities of his being. But upon this subject, man while upon earth most certainly knows only "in part." Most men are wholly ignorant of the constitutional needs of a rational spirit, and are not aware that it is as impossible for the creature, when in eternity, to live happily out of God, as it is for the body to live at all in the element of fire. Most men, while here upon earth, do not know upon this subject as they are known. God knows that the whole created universe cannot satisfy the desires of an immortal being, but impenitent men do not know this fact with a clear perception, and they will not until they die and go into another world. And the reason is this. So long as the worldly natural man lives upon earth, he can find a sort of substitute for God. He has a capacity for loving, and he satisfies it to a certain degree by loving himself; by loving fame, wealth, pleasure, or some form of creature-good. He has a capacity for thinking, and he gratifies it in a certain manner by pondering the thoughts of other minds, or by original speculations of his own. And so we might go through with the list of man's capacities, and we should find, that he contrives, while here upon earth, to meet these appetences of his nature, after a sort, by the objects of time and sense, and to give his soul a species of satisfaction short of God, and away from God. Fame, wealth, and pleasure; the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life; become a substitute for the Creator, in his search, for happiness. As a consequence, the unregenerate man knows but "in part" respecting the primitive and constitutional necessities of his being. He is feeding them with a false and unhealthy food, and in this way manages to stifle for a season their true and deep cravings. But this cannot last forever. When a man dies and goes into eternity, he takes nothing with him but his character and his moral affinities. "We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain that we can carry nothing out." The original requirements and necessities of his soul are not destroyed by death, but the earthly objects by which he sought to meet them, and by which he did meet them after a sort, are totally destroyed. He still has a capacity for loving; but in eternity where is the fame, the wealth, the pleasure upon which he has hitherto expended it? He still has a capacity for thinking; but where are the farm, the merchandise, the libraries, the works of art, the human literatures, and the human philosophies, upon which he has heretofore employed it? The instant you cut off a creature who seeks his good in the world, and not in God, from intercourse with the world, you cause him to know even as he is known respecting the true and proper portion of his soul. Deprived of his accustomed and his false object of love and support, he immediately begins to reach out in all directions for something to love, something to think of, something to trust in, and finds nothing. Like that insect in our gardens which spins a slender thread by which to guide itself in its meanderings, and which when the clew is cut thrusts out its head in every direction, but does not venture to advance, the human creature who has suddenly been cut off by death from his accustomed objects of support and pleasure stretches out in every direction for something to take their place. And the misery of his case is, that when in his reachings out he sees God, or comes into contact with God, he starts back like the little insect when you present a coal of fire to it. He needs as much as ever, to love some being or some thing. But he has no heart to love God and there is no other being and no other thing in eternity to love. He needs, as much as ever, to think of some object or some subject. But to think of God is a distress to him; to reflect upon divine and holy things is weariness and woe. He is a carnal, earthly-minded man, and therefore cannot find enjoyment in such meditations. Before he can take relish in such objects and such thinking, he must be born again; he must become a new creature. But there is no new-birth of the soul in eternity. The disposition and character which a man takes along with him when he dies remains eternally unchanged. The constitutional wants still continue. The man must love, and must think. But the only object in eternity upon which such capability can be expended is God; and the carnal mind, saith the Scripture, is _enmity_ against God, and is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. Now, whatever may be the course of a man in this life; whether he becomes aware of these created imperatives, and constitutional necessities of his immortal spirit or not; whether he hears its reproaches and rebukes because he is feeding them with the husks of earth, instead of the bread of heaven, or not; it is certain that in the eternal world they will be continually awake and perpetually heard. For that spiritual world will be fitted up for nothing but a rational spirit. There will be nothing material, nothing like earth, in its arrangements. Flesh and blood cannot inherit either the kingdom of God or the kingdom of Satan. The enjoyments and occupations of this sensuous and material state will be found neither in heaven nor in hell. Eternity is a spiritual region, and all its objects, and all its provisions, will have reference solely to the original capacities and destination of a spiritual creature. They will, therefore, all be terribly reminiscent of apostasy; only serving to remind the soul of what it was originally designed to be, and of what it has now lost by worshipping and loving the creature more than the Creator. How wretched then must man be, when, with the awakening of this restlessness and dissatisfaction of an immortal spirit, and with the bright pattern of what he ought to be continually before his eye, there is united an intensity of self-love and enmity toward God, that drives him anywhere and everywhere but to his Maker, for peace and comfort. How full of woe must the lost creature be, when his immortal necessities are awakened and demand their proper food, but cannot obtain it, because of the aversion of the heart toward the only Being who can satisfy them. For, the same hatred of holiness, and disinclination toward spiritual things, which prevents a man from choosing God for his portion here, will prevent him hereafter. It is the bold fancy of an imaginative thinker,[4] that the material forces which lie beneath external nature are conscious of being bound down and confined under the crust of the earth, like the giant Enceladus under Mt. Etna, and that there are times when they roar from the depths where they are in bondage, and call aloud for freedom; when they rise in their might, and manifest themselves in the earthquake and the volcano. It will be a more fearful and terrific struggle, when the powers of an apostate being are roused in eternity; when the then eternal sin and guilt has its hour of triumph, and the eternal reason and conscience have their hour of judgment and remorse; when the inner world of man's spirit, by this schism and antagonism within it, has a devastation and a ruin spread over it more awful than that of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. We have thus, in this and the preceding discourse, considered the kind and quality of that knowledge which every human being will possess in the eternal world. He will know God, and he will know himself, with a distinct, and accurate, and unceasing intelligence like that of the Deity. It is one of the most solemn and startling themes that can be presented to the human mind. We have not been occupied with what will be _around_ a creature, what will be _outside_ of a man, in the life to come; but we have been examining what will be _within_ him. We have been considering what he will think of beyond the tomb; what his own feelings will be when he meets God face to face. But a man's immediate consciousness determines his happiness or his misery. As a man thinketh in his heart so is he. We must not delude ourselves with the notion, that the mere arrangements and circumstances of the spiritual world will decide our weal or our woe, irrespective of the tenor of our thoughts and affections; that if we are only placed in pleasant gardens or in golden streets, all will be well. As a man thinketh in his heart, so will he be in his experience. This vision of God, and of our own hearts, will be either the substance of heaven, or the substance of hell. The great future is a world of open vision. Now, we see through a glass darkly, but then, face to face. The vision for every human creature will be beatific, if he is prepared for it; will be terrific, if he is unprepared. Does not the subject, then, speak with solemn warning to every one who knows that he is not prepared for the coming revelations that will be made to him when he dies; for this clear and accurate knowledge of God, and of his own character? Do you believe that there is an eternal world, and that the general features of this mode of existence have been scripturally depicted? Do you suppose that your present knowledge of the holiness of God, and of your own sinful nature, is equal to what it will be when your spirit returns to God who gave it? Are you prepared for the impending and inevitable disclosures and revelations of the day of judgment? Do you believe that Jesus Christ is the Eternal Son of God, who came forth from eternity eighteen centuries since, and went back into eternity, leaving upon record for human instruction an unexaggerated description of that invisible world, founded upon the personal knowledge of an eye-witness? Whoever thus believes, concerning the record which Christ and His apostles have left for the information of dim-eyed mortals who see only "through a glass darkly," and who know only "in part," ought immediately to adopt their descriptions and ponder them long and well. We have already observed, that the great reason why the future state exerts so little influence over worldly men lies in the fact, that they do not bring it into distinct view. They live absorbed in the interests and occupations of earth, and their future abode throws in upon them none of its solemn shadows and warnings. A clear luminous perception of the nature and characteristics of that invisible world which is soon to receive them, would make them thoughtful and anxious for their souls; for they would become aware of their utter unfitness, their entire lack of preparation, to see God face to face. Still, live and act as sinful men may, eternity is over and around them all, even as the firmament is bent over the globe. If theirs were a penitent and a believing eye, they would look up with adoration into its serene depths, and joyfully behold the soft gleam of its stars, and it would send down upon them the sweet influences of its constellations. They may shut their eyes upon all this glory, and feel only earthly influences, and continue to be "of the earth, earthy." But there is a time coming when they cannot but look at eternity; when this firmament will throw them into consternation by the livid glare of its lightnings, and will compel them to hear the quick rattle and peal of its thunder; when it will not afford them a vision of glory and joy, as it will the redeemed and the holy, but one of despair and destruction. There is only one shelter from this storm; there is only one covert from this tempest. He, and only he, who trusts in Christ's blood of atonement, will be able to look into the holy countenance of God, and upon the dread record of his own sins, without either trembling or despair. The merits and righteousness of Christ so clothe the guilty soul, that it can endure the otherwise intolerable brightness of God's pure throne and presence. "Jesus! Thy blood and righteousness, My beauty are, my glorious dress; Mid flaming worlds, in these arrayed, With joy shall I lift up my head." Amidst those great visions that are to dawn upon every human creature, those souls will be in perfect peace who trust in the Great Propitiation. In those great tempests that are to shake down the earth and the sky, those hearts will be calm and happy who are hid in the clefts of the Rock of Ages. Flee then to Christ, ye prisoners of hope. Make preparation to know even as you are known, by repentance toward God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. A voice comes to you out of the cloud, saying, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye Him." Remember, and forget not, that this knowledge of God and your own heart is _inevitable._ At death, it will all of it flash upon the soul like lightning at midnight. It will fill the whole horizon of your being full of light. If you are in Christ Jesus, the light will not harm you. But if you are out of Christ, it will blast you. No sinful mortal can endure such a vision an instant, except as he is sprinkled with atoning blood, and clothed in the righteousness of the great Substitute and Surety for guilty man. Flee then to CHRIST, and so be prepared to know God and your own heart, even as you are known. [Footnote 1: Noverim me, noverim Te.--BERNARD.] [Footnote 2: Shakespeare: Hamlet, Act III., Sc. 4.] [Footnote 3: Howe: On Regeneration. Sermon xliii.] [Footnote 4: Bookschammer: On the Will.] GOD'S EXHAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN. PSALM cxxxix. I-6.--"O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my down-sitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with, all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether. Thou, hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it." One of the most remarkable characteristics of a rational being is the power of self-inspection. The brute creation possesses many attributes that are common to human nature, but it has no faculty that bears even the remotest resemblance to that of self-examination. Instinctive action, undoubtedly, approaches the nearest of any to human action. That wonderful power by which the bee builds up a structure that is not exceeded in accuracy, and regularity, and economy of space, by the best geometry of Athens or of Rome; by which the beaver, after having chosen the very best possible location for it on the stream, constructs a dam that outlasts the work of the human engineer; by which the faithful dog contrives to perform many acts of affection, in spite of obstacles, and in the face of unexpected discouragements,--the _instinct_, we say, of the brute creation, as exhibited in a remarkably wide range of action and contrivance, and in a very varied and oftentimes perplexing conjuncture of circumstances, seems to bring man and beast very near to each other, and to furnish some ground for the theory of the materialist, that there is no essential difference between the two species of existences. But when we pass beyond the mere power of acting, to the additional power of _surveying_ or _inspecting_ an act, and of forming an estimate of its relations to moral law, we find a faculty in man that makes him differ in kind from the brute. No brute animal, however high up the scale, however ingenious and sagacious he may be, can ever look back and think of what he has done, "his thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing him." The mere power of performance, is, after all, not the highest power. It is the superadded power of calmly looking over the performance, and seeing _what_ has been done, that marks the higher agency, and denotes a loftier order of existence than that of the animal or of material nature. If the mere ability to work with energy, and produce results, constituted the highest species of power, the force of gravitation would be the loftiest energy in the universe. Its range of execution is wider than that of any other created principle. But it is one of the lower and least important of agencies, because it is blind. It is destitute of the power of self-inspection. It does not know _what_ it does, or _why_. "Man," says Pascal,[1] "is but a reed, and the weakest in all nature; yet he is a reed that _thinks_. The whole material universe does not need to arm itself, in order to crush him. A vapor, a drop of water is enough to destroy him. But if the whole universe of matter should combine to crush him, man would be more noble than that which destroyed him. For he would be _conscious_ that he was dying, while, of the advantage which the material universe had obtained over him, that universe would know nothing." The action of a little child is altogether nothing and vanity compared with the energy of the earthquake or the lightning, so far as the exhibition of force and the mere power to act is concerned; but, on the other hand, it is more solemn than centuries of merely natural processes, and more momentous than all the material phenomena that have ever filled the celestial spaces, when we remember that it is the act of a thinking agent, and a self-conscious creature. The power to _survey_ the act, when united with the power to act, sets mind infinitely above matter, and places the action of instinct, wonderful as it is, infinitely below the action of self-consciousness. The proud words of one of the characters in the old drama are strictly true: "I am a nobler substance than the stars, Or are they better since they are bigger? I have a will and faculties of choice, To do or not to do; and reason why I do or not do this: the stars have none. They know not why they shine, more than this taper, Nor how they, work, nor what."[2] But this characteristic of a rational being, though thus distinctive and common to every man that lives, is exceedingly marvellous. Like the air we breathe, like the light we see, it involves a mystery that no man has ever solved. Self-consciousness has been the problem and the thorn of the philosophic mind in all ages; and the mystery is not yet unravelled. Is not that a wonderful process by which a man knows, not some other thing but, _himself_? Is not that a strange act by which he, for a time, duplicates his own unity, and sets himself to look at himself? All other acts of consciousness are comparatively plain and explicable. When we look at an object other than ourselves,--when we behold a tree or the sky,--the act of knowledge is much more simple and easy to be explained. For then there is something outside of us, and in front of us, and another thing than we are, at which we look, and which we behold. But in this act of _self_-inspection there is no second thing, external, and extant to us, which we contemplate. That which is seen is one and the same identical object with that which sees. The act of knowledge which in all other instances requires the existence of two things,--a thing to be known and a thing to know,--in this instance is performed with only one. It is the individual soul that sees, and it is that very same individual soul that is seen. It is the individual man that knows, and it is that very identical man that is known. The eyeball looks at the eyeball. And when this power of self-inspection is connected with the power of memory, the mystery of human existence becomes yet more complicated, and its explanation still more baffling. Is it not exceedingly wonderful, that we are able to re-exhibit our own thoughts and feelings; that we can call back what has gone clear by in our experience, and steadily look at it once more? Is it not a mystery that we can summon before our mind's eye feelings, purposes, desires, and thoughts, which occurred in the soul long years ago, and which, perhaps, until this moment, we have not thought of for years? Is it not a marvel, that they come up with all the vividness with which they first took origin in our experience, and that the lapse of time has deprived them of none of their first outlines or colors? Is it not strange, that we can recall that one particular feeling of hatred toward a fellow-man which, rankled in the heart twenty years ago; that we can now eye it, and see it as plainly as if it were still throbbing within us; that we can feel guilty for it once more, as if we were still cherishing it? If it were not so common, would it not be surprising, that we can reflect upon acts of disobedience toward God which we committed in the days of childhood, and far back in the dim twilights of moral agency; that we can re-act them, as it were, in our memory, and fill ourselves again with the shame and distress that attended their original commission? Is it not one of those mysteries which overhang human existence, and from which that of the brute is wholly free, that man can live his life, and act his agency, over, and over, and over again, indefinitely and forever, in his self-consciousness; that he can cause all his deeds to pass and re-pass before his self-reflection, and be filled through and through with the agony of self-knowledge? Truly _such_ knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it. Whither shall I _go_ from my _own_ spirit, and whither shall I flee from my _own_ presence. If I ascend up into heaven, it is there looking at me. If I make my bed in hell, behold it is there torturing me. If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there must I know myself, and acquit or condemn myself. But if that knowledge whereby man knows himself is mysterious, then certainly that whereby God knows him is far more so. That act whereby _another_ being knows my secret thoughts, and inmost feelings, is most certainly inexplicable. That cognition whereby _another_ person understands what takes place in the corners of my heart, and sees the minutest movements of my spirit, is surely high; most surely I cannot attain unto it. And yet, it is a truth of revelation that God searches the heart of man; that He knows his down-sitting and uprising, and understands his thought afar off; that He compasses his path and his lying-down, and is acquainted with all his ways. And yet, it is a deduction of reason, also, that because God is the creator of the human mind, He must perfectly understand its secret agencies; that He in whose Essence man lives and moves and has his being, must behold every motion, and feel every stirring of the human spirit. "He that planted the ear, shall He not hear? He that formed the eye, shall He not see?" Let us, then, ponder the fact of God's exhaustive knowledge of man's soul, that we may realize it, and thereby come under its solemn power and impression. For all religion, all holy and reverential fear of God, rises and sets, as in an atmosphere, in the thought: "Thou God seest me." I. In analyzing and estimating the Divine knowledge of the human soul, we find, in the first place, that God accurately and exhaustively knows _all that man knows of himself_. Every man in a Christian land, who is in the habit of frequenting the house of God, possesses more or less of that self-knowledge of which we have spoken. He thinks of the moral character of some of his own thoughts. He reflects upon the moral quality of some of his own feelings. He considers the ultimate tendency of some of his own actions. In other words, there is a part of his inward and his outward life with which he is uncommonly well acquainted; of which he has a distinct perception. There are some thoughts of his mind, at which he blushes at the very time of their origin, because he is vividly aware what they are, and what they mean. There are some emotions of his heart, at which he trembles and recoils at the very moment of their uprising, because he perceives clearly that they involve a very malignant depravity. There are some actings of his will, of whose wickedness he is painfully conscious at the very instant of their rush and movement. We are not called upon, here, to say how many of a man's thoughts, feelings, and determinations, are thus subjected to his self-inspection at the very time of their origin, and are known in the clear light of self-knowledge. We are not concerned, at this point, with the amount of this man's self-inspection and self-knowledge. We are only saying that there is some experience such as this in his personal history, and that he does know something of himself, at the very time of action, with a clearness and a distinctness that makes him start, or blush, or fear. Now we say, that in reference to all this intimate self-knowledge, all this best part of a man's information respecting himself, he is not superior to God. He may be certain that in no particular does he know more of himself than the Searcher of hearts knows. He may be an uncommonly thoughtful person, and little of what is done within his soul may escape his notice,--nay, we will make the extreme supposition that he arrests every thought as it rises, and looks at it, that he analyzes every sentiment as it swells his heart, that he scrutinizes every purpose as it determines his will,--even if he should have such a thorough and profound self-knowledge as this, God knows him equally profoundly, and equally thoroughly. Nay more, this process of self-inspection may go on indefinitely, and the man may grow more and more thoughtful, and obtain an everlastingly augmenting knowledge of what he is and what he does, so that it shall seem to him that he is going down so far along that path which the vulture's eye hath not seen, is penetrating so deeply into those dim and shadowy regions of consciousness where the external life takes its very first start, as to be beyond the reach of any eye, and the ken of any intelligence but his own, and then he may be sure that God understands the thought that is afar off, and deep down, and that at this lowest range and plane in his experience He besets him behind and before. O, this man, like the most of mankind, may be an unreflecting person. Then, in this case, thoughts, feelings, and purposes are continually rising up within his soul like the clouds and exhalations of an evaporating deluge, and at the time of their rise he subjects them to no scrutiny of conscience, and is not pained in the least by their moral character and significance. He lacks self-knowledge altogether, at these points in his history. But, notice that the fact that he is not self-inspecting at these points cannot destroy the fact that he is acting at them. The fact that he is not a spectator of his own transgression, does not alter the fact that he is the author of it. If this man, for instance, thinks over his worldly affairs on God's holy day, and perhaps in God's holy house, with such an absorption and such a pleasure that he entirely drowns the voice of conscience while he is so doing, and self-inspection is banished for the time, it will not do for him to plead this absence of a distinct and painful consciousness of what his mind was actually doing in the house of God, and upon the Lord's day, as the palliative and excuse of his wrong thoughts. If this man, again, indulges in an envious or a sensual emotion, with such an energy and entireness, as for the time being to preclude all action of the higher powers of reason and self-reflection, so that for the time being he is not in the least troubled by a sense of his wickedness, it will be no excuse for him at the eternal bar, that he was not thinking of his envy or his lust at the time when he felt it. And therefore it is, that accountableness covers the whole field of human agency, and God holds us responsible for our thoughtless sin, as well as for our deliberate transgression. In the instance, then, of the thoughtless man; in the case where there is little or no self-examination; God unquestionably knows the man as well as the man knows himself. The Omniscient One is certainly possessed of an amount of knowledge equal to that small modicum which is all that a rational and immortal soul can boast of in reference to itself. But the vast majority of mankind fall into this class. The self-examiners are very few, in comparison with the millions who possess the power to look into their hearts, but who rarely or never do so. The great God our Judge, then, surely knows the mass of men, in their down-sitting and uprising, with a knowledge that is equal to their own. And thus do we establish our first position, that God knows all that the man knows; God's knowledge is equal to the very best part of man's knowledge. In concluding this part of the discussion, we turn to consider some practical lessons suggested by it. 1. In the first place, the subject reminds us that _we are fearfully and wonderfully made_. When we take a solar microscope and examine even the commonest object--a bit of sand, or a hair of our heads-we are amazed at the revelation that is made to us. We had no previous conception of the wonders that are contained in the structure of even such ordinary things as these. But, if we should obtain a corresponding view of our own mental and moral structure; if we could subject our immortal natures to a microscopic self-examination; we should not only be surprised, but we should be terrified. This explains, in part, the consternation with which a criminal is filled, as soon as he begins to understand the nature of his crime. His wicked act is perceived in its relation to his own mental powers and faculties. He knows, now, what a hazardous thing it is to possess a free-will; what an awful thing it is to own a conscience. He feels, as he never did before, that he is fearfully and wonderfully made, and cries out: "O that I had never been born! O that I had never been created a responsible being! these terrible faculties of reason, and will, and conscience, are too heavy for me to wield; would that I had been created a worm, and no man, then, I should not have incurred the hazards under which I have sinned and ruined myself." The constitution of the human soul is indeed a wonderful one; and such a meditation as that which we have just devoted to its functions of self-examination and memory, brief though it be, is enough to convince us of it. And remember, that this constitution is not peculiar to you and to me. It belongs to every human creature on the globe. The imbruted pagan in the fiery centre of Africa, who never saw a Bible, or heard of the Redeemer; the equally imbruted man, woman, or child, who dwells in the slime of our own civilization, not a mile from where we sit, and hear the tidings of mercy; the filthy savage, and the yet filthier profligate, are both of them alike with ourselves possessed of these awful powers of self-knowledge and of memory. Think of this, ye earnest and faithful laborers in the vineyard of the Lord. There is not a child that you allure into your Sabbath Schools, and your Mission Schools, that is not fearfully and wonderfully made; and whose marvellous powers you are doing much to render to their possessor a blessing, instead of a curse. When Sir Humphrey Davy, in answer to an inquiry that had been made of him respecting the number and series of his discoveries in chemistry, had gone through with the list, he added: "But the greatest of my discoveries is Michael Faraday." This Michael Faraday was a poor boy employed in the menial services of the laboratory where Davy made those wonderful discoveries by which he revolutionized the science of chemistry, and whose chemical genius he detected, elicited, and encouraged, until he finally took the place of his teacher and patron, and acquired a name that is now one of the influences of England. Well might he say: "My greatest discovery was when I detected the wonderful powers of Michael Faraday." And never will you make a greater and more beneficent discovery, than when, under the thick scurf of pauperism and vice, you detect the human soul that is fearfully and wonderfully made; than when you elicit its powers of self-consciousness and of memory, and, instrumentally, dedicate them to the service of Christ and the Church. 2. In the second place, we see from the subject, that _thoughtlessness in sin will never excuse sin_. There are degrees in sin. A deliberate, self-conscious act of sin is the most intense form of moral evil. When a man has an active conscience; when he distinctly thinks over the nature of the transgression which he is tempted to commit; when he sees clearly that it is a direct violation of a command of God which he is about to engage in; when he says, "I know that this is positively forbidden by my Maker and Judge, but I _will do it_,"--we have an instance of the most heaven-daring sin. This is deliberate and wilful transgression. The servant knows his lord's will and does it not, and he shall be beaten with "many stripes," says Christ. But, such sin as this is not the usual form. Most of human transgressions are not accompanied with such a distinct apprehension, and such a deliberate determination. The sin of ignorance and thoughtlessness is the species which is most common. Men, generally, do not first think of what they are about to do, and then proceed to do it; but they first proceed to do it, and then think nothing at all about it. But, thoughtlessness will not excuse sin; though, it is a somewhat less extreme form of it, than deliberate transgression. Under the Levitical law, the sin of ignorance, as it was called, was to be expiated by a somewhat different sacrifice from that offered for the wilful and deliberate sin; but it must be expiated. A victim must be offered for it. It was guilt before God, and needed atonement. Our Lord, in His prayer for His murderers, said, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." The act of crucifying the Lord of glory was certainly a sin, and one of an awful nature. But the authors of it were not fully aware of its import. They did not understand the dreadful significance of the crucifixion of the Son of God, as we now understand it, in the light of eighteen centuries. Our Lord alludes to this, as a species of mitigation; while yet He teaches, by the very prayer which He puts up for them, that this ignorance did not excuse His murderers. He asks that they may be _forgiven_. But where there is absolutely no sin there is no need of forgiveness. It is one of our Lord's assertions, that it will be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah, in the day of judgment, than it will be for those inhabitants of Palestine who would not hear the words of His apostles,--because the sin of the former was less deliberate and wilful than that of the latter. But He would not have us infer from this, that Sodom and Gomorrah are not to be punished for sin. And, finally, He sums up the whole doctrine upon this point, in the declaration, that "he who knew his master's will and did it not shall be beaten with many stripes; but he who knew not his master's will and did it not shall be beaten with few stripes." The sin of thoughtlessness shall be beaten with fewer stripes than the sin of deliberation,--but it shall be _beaten_, and therefore it is _sin_. The almost universal indifference and thoughtlessness with which men live on in a worldly and selfish life, will not excuse them in the day of accurate accounts. And the reason is, that they are capable of _thinking_ upon the law of God; of _thinking_ upon their duties; of _thinking_ upon their sins. They possess the wonderful faculties of self-inspection and memory, and therefore they are capable of bringing their actions into light. It is the command of God to every man, and to every rational spirit everywhere, to walk in the light, and to be a child of the light. We ought to examine ourselves; to understand our ruling motives and abiding purposes; to scrutinize our feelings and conduct. But if we do little or nothing of this, we must not expect that in the day of judgment we can plead our thoughtless ignorance of what we were, and what we did, here upon earth, as an excuse for our disobedience. God expects, and demands, that every one of His rational creatures should be all that he is capable of being. He gave man wonderful faculties and endowments,--ten talents, five talents, two talents,--and He will require the whole original sum given, together with a faithful use and improvement of it. The very thoughtlessness then, particularly under the Gospel dispensation,--the very neglect and non-use of the power of self-inspection,--will go in to constitute a part of the sin that will be punished. Instead of being an excuse, it will be an element of the condemnation itself. 3. In the third place, even the sinner himself _ought to rejoice in the fact that God is the Searcher of the heart_. It is instinctive and natural, that a transgressor should attempt to conceal his character from his Maker; but next to his sin itself, it would be the greatest injury that he could do to himself, should he succeed in his attempt. Even after the commission of sin, there is every reason for desiring that God should compass our path and lying down, and be acquainted with all our ways. For, He is the only being who can forgive sin; the only one who can renew and sanctify the heart. There is the same motive for having the disease of the soul understood by God, that there is for having the disease of the body examined by a skilful physician. Nothing is gained, but every thing is lost, by ignorance. The sinner, therefore, has the strongest of motives for rejoicing in the truth that God sees him. It ought not to be an unwelcome fact even to him. For how can his sin be pardoned, unless it is clearly understood by the pardoning power? How can his soul be purified from its inward corruption, unless it is searched by the Spirit of all holiness? Instead, therefore, of being repelled by such a solemn truth as that which we have been discussing, even the natural man should be allured by it. For it teaches him that there is help for him in God. His own knowledge of his own heart, as we have seen, is very imperfect and very inadequate. But the Divine knowledge is thoroughly adequate. He may, therefore, devolve his case with confidence upon the unerring One. Let him take words upon his lips, and cry unto Him: "Search me, O God, and try me; and see what evil ways there are in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." Let him endeavor to come into possession of the Divine knowledge. There is no presumption in this. God desires that he should know himself as He knows him; that he should get possession of His views upon this point; that he should see himself as He sees him. One of the principal sins which God has to charge upon the sinner is, that his apprehensions respecting his own character are in conflict with the Divine. Nothing would more certainly meet the approbation of God, than a renunciation of human estimates of human nature, and the adoption of those contained in the inspired word. Endeavor, therefore, to obtain the very same knowledge of your heart which God Himself possesses. And in this endeavor, He will assist you. The influences of the Holy Spirit to enlighten are most positively promised and proffered. Therefore be not repelled by the truth; but be drawn by it to a deeper, truer knowledge of your heart. Lift up your soul in prayer, and beseech God to impart to you a profound knowledge of yourself, and then to sprinkle all your discovered guilt, and all your undiscovered guilt, with atoning blood. This is _salvation_; first to know yourself, and then to know Christ as your Prophet, Priest, and King. [Footnote 1: PENSÉES: Grandeur de l'homme, 6. Ed. Wetstein.] [Footnote 2: CHAPMAN: Byron's Conspiracy.] GOD'S EXHAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN. [*continued] PSALM cxxxix. 1--6.--"O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my down-sitting and mine uprising; thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether. Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thy hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it." In the preceding discourse upon this text, we directed attention to the fact that man is possessed of the power of self-knowledge, and that he cannot ultimately escape from using it. He cannot forever flee from his own presence; he cannot, through all eternity, go away from his own spirit. If he take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the earth, he must, sooner or later, know himself, and acquit or condemn himself. Our attention was then directed to the fact, that God's knowledge of man is certainly equal to man's knowledge of himself. No man knows more of his own heart than the Searcher of hearts knows. Up to this point, certainly, the truth of the text is incontrovertible. God knows all that man knows. II. We come now to the second position: That _God accurately and exhaustively knows all that man might, but does not, know of himself_. Although the Creator designed that every man should thoroughly understand his own heart, and gave him the power of self-inspection that he might use it faithfully, and apply it constantly, yet man is extremely ignorant of himself. Mankind, says an old writer, are nowhere less at home, than at home. Very few persons practise serious self-examination at all; and none employ the power of self-inspection with that carefulness and sedulity with which they ought. Hence men generally, and unrenewed men always, are unacquainted with much that goes on within their own minds and hearts. Though it is sin and self-will, though it is thought and feeling and purpose and desire, that is going on and taking place during all these years of religious indifference, yet the agent himself, so far as a sober reflection upon the moral character of the process, and a distinct perception of the dreadful issue of it, are concerned, is much of the time as destitute of self-knowledge as an irrational brute itself. For, were sinful men constantly self-examining, they would be constantly in torment. Men can be happy in sin, only so long as they can sin without thinking of it. The instant they begin to perceive and understand _what_ they are doing, they begin to feel the fang of the worm. If the frivolous wicked world, which now takes so much pleasure in its wickedness, could be forced to do here what it will be forced to do hereafter, namely, to _eye_ its sin while it commits it, to _think_ of what it is doing while it does it, the billows of the lake of fire would roll in upon time, and from gay Paris and luxurious Vienna there would instantaneously ascend the wailing cry of Pandemonium. But it is not so at present. Men here upon earth are continually thinking sinful thoughts and cherishing sinful feelings, and yet they are not continually in hell. On the contrary, "they are not in trouble as other men are, neither are they plagued like other men. Their eyes stand out with fatness; they have more than heart could wish." This proves that they are self-ignorant; that they know neither their sin nor its bitter end. They sin without the _consciousness_ of sin, and hence are happy in it. Is it not so in our own personal experience? Have there not been in the past ten years of our own mental history long trains of thought,--sinful thought,--and vast processions of feelings and imaginings,--sinful feelings and imaginings,--that have trailed over the spaces of the soul, but which have been as unwatched and unseen by the self-inspecting eye of conscience, as the caravans of the African desert have been, during the same period, by the eye of our sense? We have not felt a pang of guilt every single time that we have thought a wrong thought; yet we should have felt one inevitably, had we _scrutinized_ every such single thought. Our face has not flushed with crimson in every particular instance in which we have exercised a lustful emotion; yet it would have done so had we carefully _noted_ every such emotion. A distinct self-knowledge has by no means run parallel with all our sinful activity; has by no means been co-extensive with it. We perform vastly more than we inspect. We have sinned vastly more than we have been aware of at the time. Even the Christian, in whom this unreflecting species of life and conduct has given way, somewhat, to a thoughtful and vigilant life, knows and acknowledges that perfection is not yet come. As he casts his eye over even his regenerate and illuminated life, and sees what a small amount of sin has been distinctly detected, keenly felt, and heartily confessed, in comparison with that large amount of sin which he knows he must have committed, during this long period of incessant action of mind, heart, and limbs, he finds no repose for his misgivings with respect to the filial examination and account, except by enveloping himself yet more entirely in the ample folds of his Redeemer's righteousness; except by hiding himself yet more profoundly in the cleft of that Rock of Ages which protects the chief of sinners from the unsufferable splendors and terrors of the Divine glory and holiness as it passes by. Even the Christian knows that he must have committed many sins in thoughtless moments and hours,--many sins of which he was not deliberately thinking at the time of their commission,--and must pray with David, "Cleanse thou me from secret faults." The functions and operations of memory evince that such is the case. Are we not sometimes, in our serious hours when memory is busy, convinced of sins which, at the time of their commission, were wholly unaccompanied with a sense of their sinfulness? The act in this instance was performed blindly, without self-inspection, and therefore without self-conviction. Ten years, we will say, have intervened,--years of new activity, and immensely varied experiences. And now the magic power of recollection sets us back, once more, at that point of responsible action, and bids do what we did not do at the time,--analyze our performance and feel consciously guilty, experience the first sensation of remorse, for what we did ten years ago. Have we not, sometimes, been vividly reminded that upon such an occasion, and at such a time, we were angry, or proud, but at the time when the emotion was swelling our veins were not filled with, that clear and painful sense of its turpitude which now attends the recollection of it? The re-exhibition of an action in memory, as in a mirror, is often accompanied with a distinct apprehension of its moral character that formed no part of the experience of the agent while absorbed in the hot and hasty original action itself. And when we remember how immense are the stores of memory, and what an amount of sin has been committed in hours of thoughtlessness and moral indifference, what prayer is more natural and warm than the supplication: "Search me O God, and try me, and see what evil ways there are within me, and lead me in the way everlasting." But the careless, unenlightened man, as we have before remarked, leads a life almost entirely destitute of self-inspection, and self-knowledge. He sins constantly. He does only evil, and that continually, as did man before the deluge. For he is constantly acting. A living self-moving soul, like his, cannot cease action if it would. And yet the current is all one way. Day after day sends up its clouds of sensual, worldly, selfish thoughts. Week after week pours onward its stream of low-born, corrupt, unspiritual feelings. Year after year accumulates that hardening mass of carnal-mindedness, and distaste for religion, which is sometimes a more insuperable obstacle to the truth, than positive faults and vices which startle and shock the conscience. And yet the man _thinks_ nothing about all this action of his mind and heart. He does not subject it to any self-inspection. If he should, for but a single hour, be lifted up to the eminence from which all this current of self-will, and moral agency, may be seen and surveyed in its real character and significance, he would start back as if brought to the brink of hell. But he is not thus lifted up. He continues to use and abuse his mental and his moral faculties, but, for most of his probation, with all the blindness and heedlessness of a mere animal instinct. There is, then, a vast amount of sin committed without self-inspection; and, consequently, without any distinct perception, at the time, that it is sin. The Christian will find himself feeling guilty, for the first time, for a transgression that occurred far back in the past, and will need a fresh application of atoning blood. The sinner will find, at some period or other, that remorse is fastening its tooth in his conscience for a vast amount of sinful thought, feeling, desire, and motive, that took origin in the unembarrassed days of religious thoughtlessness and worldly enjoyment. For, think you that the insensible sinner is always to be thus insensible,--that this power of self-inspection is eternally to "rust unused?" What a tremendous revelation will one day be made to an unreflecting transgressor, simply because he is a man and not a brute, has lived a human life, and is endowed with the power of self-knowledge, whether he has used it or not! What a terrific vision it will be for him, when the limitless line of his sins which he has not yet distinctly examined, and thought of, and repented of, shall be made to pass in slow procession before that inward eye which he has wickedly kept shut so long! Tell us not of the disclosures that shall be made when the sea shall give up the dead that are in it, and the graves shall open and surrender their dead; what are these material disclosures, when compared with the revelations of self-knowledge! What is all this external display, sombre and terrible as it will be to the outward eye, when compared with all that internal revealing that will be made to a hitherto thoughtless soul, when, of a sudden, in the day of judgment, its deepest caverns shall heave in unison with the material convulsions of the day, and shall send forth to judgment their long slumbering, and hidden iniquity; when the sepulchres of its own memory shall burst open, and give up the sin that has long lain buried there, in needless and guilty forgetfulness, awaiting this second resurrection! For (to come back to the unfolding of the subject, and the movement of the argument), God perfectly knows all that man might, but does not, know of himself. Though the transgressor is ignorant of much of his sin, because at the time of its commission he sins blindly as well as wilfully, and unreflectingly as well as freely; and though the transgressor has forgotten much of that small amount of sin of which he was conscious, and by which he was pained, at the time of its perpetration; though on the side of man the powers of self-inspection and memory have accomplished so little towards the preservation of man's sin, yet God knows it all, and remembers it all. He compasseth man's path, and his lying-down, and is acquainted with all his ways. "There is nothing covered, therefore, that shall not be revealed, neither hid that shall not be known. Whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the house-tops." The Creator of the human mind has control over its powers of self-inspection, and of memory; and when the proper time comes He will compel these endowments to perform their legitimate functions, and do their appointed work. The torturing self-survey will begin, never more to end. The awful recollection will commence, endlessly to go on. One principal reason why the Biblical representations of human sinfulness exert so little influence over men, and, generally speaking, seem to them to be greatly exaggerated and untrue, lies in the fact that the Divine knowledge of human character is in advance of the human knowledge. God's consciousness and cognition upon this subject is exhaustive; while man's self-knowledge is superficial and shallow. The two forms of knowledge, consequently, when placed side by side, do not agree, but conflict. There would be less difficulty, and less contradiction, if mankind generally were possessed of even as much self-knowledge as the Christian is possessed of. There would be no difficulty, and no contradiction, if the knowledge of the judgment-day could be anticipated, and the self-inspection of that occasion could commence here and now. But such is not the fact. The Bible labors, therefore, under the difficulty of possessing an advanced knowledge; the difficulty of being addressed to a mind that is almost entirely unacquainted with the subject treated of. The Word of God knows man exhaustively, as God knows him; and hence all its descriptions of human character are founded upon such a knowledge. But man, in his self-ignorance, does not perceive their awful truth. He has not yet attained the internal correspondent to the Biblical statement,--that apprehension of total depravity, that knowledge of the plague of the heart, which always and ever says "yea" to the most vivid description of human sinfulness, and "amen" to God's heaviest malediction upon it. Nothing deprives the Word of its nerve and influence, more than this general lack of self-inspection and self-knowledge. For, only that which is perceived to be _true_ exerts an influence upon the human mind. The doctrine of human sinfulness is preached to men, year after year, to whom it does not come home with the demonstration of the Spirit and with power, because the sinfulness which is really within them is as yet unknown, and because not one of a thousand of their transgressions has ever been scanned in the light of self-examination. But is the Bible untrue, because the man is ignorant? Is the sun black, because the eye is shut? However ignorant man may be, and may desire and strive to be, of himself, God knows him altogether, and knows that the representations of His word, respecting the character and necessities of human nature, are the unexaggerated, sober, and actual fact. Though most of the sinner's life of alienation from God, and of disobedience, has been a blind and a reckless agency, unaccompanied with self-scrutiny, and to a great extent passed from his memory, yet it has all of it been looked at, as it welled, up from the living centres of free agency and responsibility, by the calm and dreadful eye of retributive Justice, and has all of it been indelibly written down in the book of God's sure memory, with a pen of iron, and the point of a diamond. And here, let us for a moment look upon the bright, as well as the dark side of this subject. For if God's exhaustive knowledge of the human heart waken dread in one of its aspects, it starts infinite hope in another. If that Being has gone down into these depths of human depravity, and seen it with a more abhorring glance than could ever shoot from a finite eye, and yet has returned with a cordial offer to forgive it all, and a hearty proffer to cleanse it all away, then we can lift up the eye in adoration and in hope. There has been an infinite forbearance and condescension. The worst has been seen, and that too by the holiest of Beings, and yet eternal glory is offered to us! God knows, from personal examination, the worthlessness of human character, with a thoroughness and intensity of knowledge of which man has no conception; and yet, in the light of this knowledge, in the very flame of this intuition, He has devised a plan of mercy and redemption. Do not think, then, because of your present ignorance of your guilt and corruption, that the incarnation and death of the Son of God was unnecessary, and that that costly blood of atonement which you are treading under foot wet the rocks of Calvary for a peccadillo. Could you, but for a moment only, know yourself _altogether_ and _exhaustively_, as the Author of this Redemption knows you, you would cry out, in the words of a far holier man than you are, "I am undone." If you could but see guilt as God sees it, you would also see with Him that nothing but an infinite Passion can expiate it. If you could but fathom the human heart as God fathoms it, you would know as He knows, that nothing less than regeneration can purify its fountains of uncleanness, and cleanse it from its ingrain corruption. Thus have we seen that God knows man altogether,--that He knows all that man knows of himself, and all that man might but does not yet know of himself. The Searcher of hearts knows all the thoughts that we have thought upon, all the reflections that we have reflected upon, all the experience that we have ourselves analyzed and inspected. And He also knows that far larger part of our life which we have not yet subjected to the scrutiny of self-examination,--all those thoughts, feelings, desires, and motives, innumerable as they are, of which we took no heed at the time of their origin and existence, and which we suppose, perhaps, we shall hear no more of again. Whither then shall we go from God's spirit? or whither shall we flee from His presence and His knowledge? If we ascend up into heaven, He is there, and knows us perfectly. If we make our bed in hell, behold He is there, and reads the secret thoughts and feelings of our heart. The darkness hideth not from Him; our ignorance does not affect His knowledge; the night shineth as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike to Him. This great truth which we have been considering obtains a yet more serious emphasis, and a yet more solemn power over the mind, when we take into view the _character_ of the Being who thus searches our hearts, and is acquainted with all our ways. Who of us would not be filled with uneasiness, if he knew that an imperfect fellow-creature were looking constantly into his soul? Would not the flush of shame often burn upon our cheek, if we knew that a sinful man like ourselves were watching all the feelings and thoughts that are rising within us? Should we not be more circumspect than we are, if men were able mutually to search each other's hearts? How often does a man change his course of conduct, when he discovers, accidentally, that his neighbor knows what he is doing. But it is not an imperfect fellow-man, it is not a perfect angel, who besets us behind and before, and is acquainted with, all our ways. It is the immaculate God himself. It is He before whom archangels veil their faces, and the burning seraphim cry, "Holy." It is He, in whose sight the pure cerulean heavens are not clean, and whose eyes are a flame of fire devouring all iniquity. We are beheld, in all this process of sin, be it blind or be it intelligent, by infinite Purity. We are not, therefore, to suppose that God contemplates this our life of sin with the dull indifference of an Epicurean deity; that He looks into our souls, all this while, from mere curiosity, and with no moral _emotion_ towards us. The God who knows us altogether is the Holy One of Israel, whose wrath is both real, and revealed, against all unrighteousness. If, therefore, we connect the holy nature and pure essence of God with all this unceasing and unerring inspection of the human soul, does not the truth which, we have been considering speak with a bolder emphasis, and acquire an additional power to impress and solemnize the mind? When we realize that the Being who is watching us at every instant, and in every act and element of our existence, is the very same Being who revealed himself amidst the lightenings of Sinai as _hating_ sin and not clearing the thoughtless guilty, do not our prospects at the bar of justice look dark and fearful? For, who of the race of man is holy enough to stand such an inspection? Who of the sons of men will prove pure in such a furnace? Are we not, then, brought by this truth close up to the central doctrine of Christianity, and made to see our need of the atonement and righteousness of the Redeemer? How can we endure such a scrutiny as God is instituting into our character and conduct? What can we say, in the day of reckoning, when the Searcher of hearts shall make known, to us all that He knows of us? What can we do, in that day which shall reveal the thoughts and the estimates of the Holy One respecting us? It is perfectly plain, from the elevated central point of view where we now stand, and in the focal light in which we now see, that no man can be justified before God upon the ground of personal character; for that character, when subjected to God's exhaustive scrutiny, withers and shrinks away. A man may possibly be just before his neighbor, or his friend, or society, or human laws, but he is miserably self-deceived who supposes that his heart will appear righteous under such a scrutiny and in such a Presence as we have been considering.[1] However it may be before other tribunals, the apostle is correct when he asserts that "every mouth, must be stopped, and the whole world plead guilty before God." Before the Searcher of hearts, all mankind must appeal to mere and sovereign mercy. Justice, in this reference, is out of the question. Now, in this condition of things, God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him might not perish, but have everlasting life. The Divine mercy has been manifested in a mode that does not permit even the guiltiest to doubt its reality, its sufficiency, or its sincerity. The argument is this. "If when, we were yet sinners," _and known to be such, in the perfect and exhaustive manner that has been described,_ "Christ died for us, much more, being now justified by His blood, shall we be saved from Wrath through Him." Appropriating this atonement which the Searcher of hearts has Himself provided for this very exigency, and which He knows to be thoroughly adequate, no man, however guilty, need fear the most complete disclosures which the Divine Omniscience will have to make of human character in the day of doom. If the guilt is "infinite upon infinite," so is the sacrifice of the God-man. Who is he that condemmeth? it is the Son of God that died for sin. Who shall lay anything to God's elect? it is God that justifieth. And as God shall, in the last day, summon up from the deep places of our souls all of our sins, and bring us to a strict account for everything, even to the idle words that we have spoken, we can look Him full in the eye, without a thought of fear, and with love unutterable, if we are really relying upon the atoning sacrifice of Christ for justification. Even in that awful Presence, and under that Omniscient scrutiny, "there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus." The great lesson, then, taught by the text and its unfolding, is _the importance of attaining self-knowledge here upon earth, and while there remaineth a sacrifice for sins_. The duty and wisdom of every man is, to anticipate the revelations of the judgment day; to find out the sin of his soul, while it is an accepted time and a day of salvation. For we have seen that this self-inspection cannot ultimately be escaped. Man was made to know himself, and he must sooner or later come to it. Self-knowledge is as certain, in the end, as death. The utmost that can be done, is to postpone it for a few days, or years. The article of death and the exchange of worlds will pour it all in, like a deluge, upon every man, whether he will or not. And he who does not wake up to a knowledge of his heart, until he enters eternity, wakes up not to pardon but to despair. The simple question, then, which, meets us is: Wilt thou know thyself _here_ and _now_, that thou mayest accept and feel God's pity in Christ's blood, or wilt thou keep within the screen, and not know thyself until beyond the grave, and then feel God's judicial wrath? The self-knowledge, remember, must come in the one way or the other. It is a simple question of time; a simple question whether it shall come here in this world, where the blood of Christ "freely flows," or in the future world, where "there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin." Turn the matter as we will, this is the sum and substance,--a sinful man must either come to a thorough self-knowledge, with a hearty repentance and a joyful pardon, in this life; or he must come to a thorough, self-knowledge, with a total despair and an eternal damnation, in the other. God is not mocked. God's great pity in the blood of Christ must not be trifled with. He who refuses, or neglects, to institute that self-examination which leads to the sense of sin, and the felt need of Christ's work, by this very fact proves that he does not desire to know his own heart, and that he has no wish to repent of sin. But he who will not even look at his sin,--what does not he deserve from that Being who poured out His own blood for it? He who refuses even to open his eyes upon that bleeding Lamb of God,--what must not he expect from the Lion of the tribe of Judah, in the day of judgment? He who by a life of apathy, and indifference to sin, puts himself out of all relations to the Divine pity,--what must he experience in eternity, but the operations of stark, unmitigated law? Find out your sin, then. God will forgive all that is found. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. The great God delights to forgive, and is waiting to forgive. But, _sin must be seen by the sinner, before it can be pardoned by the Judge_. If you refuse at this point; if you hide yourself from yourself; if you preclude all feeling and conviction upon the subject of sin, by remaining ignorant of it; if you continue to live an easy, thoughtless life in sin, then you _cannot_ be forgiven, and the measure of God's love with which He would have blessed you, had you searched yourself and repented, will be the measure of God's righteous wrath with which He will search you, and condemn you, because you have not. [Footnote 1: "It is easy,"--says one of the keenest and most incisive of theologians,--"for any one in the cloisters of the schools to indulge himself in idle speculations on the merit of works to justify men; but when he comes _into the presence of God_, he must bid farewell to these amusements, for there the business is transacted with seriousness. To this point must our attention be directed, if we wish to make any useful inquiry concerning true righteousness: How we can answer the _celestial Judge_ when He shall call us to an account? Let us place that Judge before our eyes, not according to the inadequate imaginations of our minds, but according to the descriptions given of him in the Scriptures, which represent him as one whose refulgence eclipses the stars, whose purity makes all things appear polluted, and who searches the inmost soul of his creatures,--let us so conceive of the Judge of all the earth, and every one must present himself as a criminal before Him, and voluntarily prostrate and humble himself in deep solicitude concerning; his absolution." CALVIN: Institutes, iii. 12.] ALL MANKIND GUILTY; OR, EVERY MAN KNOWS MORE THAN HE PRACTISES. ROMANS i. 24.--"When they knew God, they glorified him not as God." The idea of God is the most important and comprehensive of all the ideas of which the human mind is possessed. It is the foundation of religion; of all right doctrine, and all right conduct. A correct intuition of it leads to correct religious theories and practice; while any erroneous or defective view of the Supreme Being will pervade the whole province of religion, and exert a most pernicious influence upon the entire character and conduct of men. In proof of this, we have only to turn to the opening chapters of St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans. Here we find a profound and accurate account of the process by which human nature becomes corrupt, and runs its downward career of unbelief, vice, and sensuality. The apostle traces back the horrible depravity of the heathen world, which he depicts with a pen as sharp as that of Juvenal, but with none of Juvenal's bitterness and vitriolic sarcasm, to a distorted and false conception of the being and attributes of God. He does not, for an instant, concede that this distorted and false conception is founded in the original structure and constitution of the human soul, and that this moral ignorance is necessary and inevitable. This mutilated idea of the Supreme Being was not inlaid in the rational creature on the morning of creation, when God said, "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness." On the contrary, the apostle affirms that the Creator originally gave all mankind, in the moral constitution of a rational soul and in the works of creation and providence, the media to a correct idea of Himself, and asserts, by implication, that if they had always employed these media they would have always possessed this idea. "The wrath of God," he says, "is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men who hold the truth in unrighteousness; _because_ that which may be known of God is manifest in them, for God hath shewed it unto them. _For_ the invisible things of him, even his eternal power and Godhead, are clearly seen from the creation of the world, being understood by the things that are made, so that they are without excuse; _because_ that when they _knew_ God, they glorified him not as God" (Rom. i. 18-21). From this, it appears that the mind of man has not kept what was committed to its charge. It has not employed the moral instrumentalities, nor elicited the moral ideas, with which it has been furnished. And, notice that the apostle does not confine this statement to those who live within the pale of Revelation. His description is unlimited and universal. The affirmation of the text, that "when man knew God he glorified him not as God," applies to the Gentile as well as to the Jew. Nay, the primary reference of these statements was to the pagan world. It was respecting the millions of idolaters in cultivated Greece and Rome, and the millions of idolaters in barbarous India and China,--it was respecting the whole world lying in wickedness, that St. Paul remarked: "The invisible things of God, even his eternal power and Godhead, are clearly seen from the creation of the world down to the present moment, being understood by the things that are made; _so that they are without excuse_." When Napoleon was returning from his campaign in Egypt and Syria, he was seated one night upon the deck of the vessel, under the open canopy of the heavens, surrounded by his captains and generals. The conversation had taken a skeptical direction, and most of the party had combated the doctrine of the Divine existence. Napoleon had sat silent and musing, apparently taking no interest in the discussion, when suddenly raising his hand, and pointing at the crystalline firmament crowded with its mildly shining planets and its keen glittering stars, he broke out, in those startling tones that so often electrified a million of men: "Gentlemen, who made all that?" The eternal power and Godhead of the Creator are impressed by the things that are made, and these words of Napoleon to his atheistic captains silenced them. And the same impression is made the world over. Go to-day into the heart of Africa, or into the centre of New Holland; select the most imbruted pagan that can be found; take him out under a clear star-lit heaven and ask him who made all that, and the idea of a Superior Being,--superior to all his fetishes and idols,--possessing eternal power and supremacy ([Greek: theotaes]) immediately emerges in his consciousness. The instant the missionary takes this lustful idolater away from the circle of his idols, and brings him face to face with the heavens and the earth, as Napoleon brought his captains, the constitutional idea dawns again, and the pagan trembles before the unseen Power.[1] But it will be objected that it is a very dim, and inadequate idea of the Deity that thus rises in the pagan's mind, and that therefore the apostle's affirmation that he is "without excuse" for being an idolater and a sensualist requires some qualification. This imbruted creature, says the objector, does not possess the metaphysical conception of God as a Spirit, and of all his various attributes and qualities, like the dweller in Christendom. How then can he be brought in guilty before the same eternal bar, and be condemned to the same eternal punishment, with the nominal Christian? The answer is plain, and decisive, and derivable out of the apostle's own statements. In order to establish the guiltiness of a rational creature before the bar of justice, it is not necessary to show that he has lived in the seventh heavens, and under a blaze of moral intelligence like that of the archangel Gabriel. It is only necessary to show that he has enjoyed _some_ degree of moral light, and that he _has not lived up to it_. Any creature who knows more than he practises is a guilty creature. If the light in the pagan's intellect concerning God and the moral law, small though it be, is yet actually in advance of the inclination and affections of his heart and the actions of his life, he deserves to be punished, like any and every other creature, under the Divine government, of whom the same thing is true. Grades of knowledge vary indefinitely. No two men upon the planet, no two men in Christendom, possess precisely the same degree of moral intelligence. There are men walking the streets of this city to-day, under the full light of the Christian revelation, whose notions respecting God and law are exceedingly dim and inadequate; and there are others whose views are clear and correct in a high degree. But there is not a person in this city, young or old, rich or poor, ignorant or cultivated, in the purlieus of vice or the saloons of wealth, whose knowledge of God is not in advance of his own character and conduct. Every man, whatever be the grade of his intelligence, knows more than he puts in practice. Ask the young thief, in the subterranean haunts of vice and crime, if he does not know that it is wicked to steal, and if he renders an honest answer, it is in the affirmative. Ask the most besotted soul, immersed and petrified in sensuality, if his course of life upon earth has been in accordance with his own knowledge and conviction of what is right, and required by his Maker, and he will answer No, if he answers truly. The grade of knowledge in the Christian land is almost infinitely various; but in every instance the amount of knowledge is greater than the amount of virtue. Whether he knows little or much, the man knows more than he performs; and _therefore_ his mouth must be stopped in the judgment, and he must plead guilty before God. He will not be condemned for not possessing that ethereal vision of God possessed by the seraphim; but he will be condemned because his perception of the holiness and the holy requirements of God was sufficient, at any moment, to rebuke his disregard of them; because when he knew God in some degree, he glorified him not as God up to that degree. And this principle will be applied to the pagan world. It is so applied by the apostle Paul. He himself concedes that the Gentile has not enjoyed all the advantages of the Jew, and argues that the ungodly Jew will be visited with a more severe punishment than the ungodly Gentile. But he expressly affirms that the pagan is _under law_, and _knows_ that he is; that he shows the work of the law that is written on the heart, in the operations of an accusing and condemning conscience. But the knowledge of law involves the knowledge of _God_ in an equal degree. Who can feel himself amenable to a moral law, without at the same time thinking of its Author? The law and the Lawgiver are inseparable. The one is the mirror and index of the other. If the eye opens dimly upon the commandment, it opens dimly upon the Sovereign; if it perceives eternal right and law with clear and celestial vision, it then looks directly into the face of God. Law and God are correlative to each other; and just so far, consequently, as the heathen understands the law that is written on the heart does he apprehend the Being who sitteth upon the circle of the heavens, and who impinges Himself upon the consciousness of men. This being so, it is plain that we can confront the ungodly pagan with the same statements with which we confront the ungodly nominal Christian. We can tell him with positiveness, wherever we find him, be it upon the burning sands of Africa or in the frozen home of the Esquimaux, that he knows more than he puts in practice. We will concede to him that the quantum of his moral knowledge is very stinted and meagre; but in the same breath we will remind him that small as it is, he has not lived up to it; that he too has "come short"; that he too, knowing God in the dimmest, faintest degree, has yet not glorified him as God in the slightest, faintest manner. The Bible sends the ungodly and licentious pagan to hell, upon the same principle that it sends the ungodly and licentious nominal Christian. It is the principle enunciated by our Lord Christ, the judge of quick and dead, when he says, "He who knew his master's will [clearly], and did it not, shall be beaten with many stripes; and he who knew not his master's will [clearly, but knew it dimly,] and did it not, shall be beaten with few stripes." It is the just principle enunciated by St. Paul, that "as many as have sinned without [written] law shall also _perish_ without [written] law."[2] And this is right and righteous; and let all the universe say, Amen. The doctrine taught in the text, that no human creature, in any country or grade of civilization, has ever glorified God to the extent of his knowledge of God, is very fertile in solemn and startling inferences, to some of which we now invite attention. 1. In the first place, it follows from this affirmation of the apostle Paul, that _the entire heathen world is in a state of condemnation and perdition_. He himself draws this inference, in saying that in the judgment "_every_ mouth must be stopped, and the _whole_ world become guilty before God." The present and future condition of the heathen world is a subject that has always enlisted the interest of two very different classes of men. The Church of God has pondered, and labored, and prayed over this subject, and will continue to do so until the millennium. And the disbeliever in Revelation has also turned his mind to the consideration of this black mass of ignorance and misery, which welters upon the globe like a chaotic ocean; these teeming millions of barbarians and savages who render the aspect of the world so sad and so dark. The Church, we need not say, have accepted the Biblical theory, and have traced the lost condition of the pagan world, as the apostle Paul does, to their sin and transgression. They have held that every pagan is a rational being, and by virtue of this fact has known something of the moral law; and that to the extent of the knowledge he has had, he is as guilty for the transgression of law, and as really under its condemnation, as the dweller under the light of revelation and civilization. They have maintained that every human creature has enjoyed sufficient light, in the workings of natural reason and conscience, and in the impressions that are made by the glory and the terror of the natural world above and around him, to render him guilty before the Everlasting Judge. For this reason, the Church has denied that the pagan is an innocent creature, or that he can stand in the judgment before the Searcher of hearts. For this reason, the Church has believed the declaration of the apostle John, that "the _whole_ world lieth in wickedness" (1 John v. 19), and has endeavored to obey the command of Him who came to redeem pagans as much as nominal Christians, to go and preach the gospel to _every_ creature, because every creature is a lost creature. But the disbeliever in Revelation adopts the theory of human innocency, and looks upon all the wretchedness and ignorance of paganism, as he looks upon suffering, decay, and death, in the vegetable and animal worlds. Temporary evil is the necessary condition, he asserts, of all finite existence; and as decay and death in the vegetable and animal worlds only result in a more luxuriant vegetation, and an increased multiplication of living creatures, so the evil and woe of the hundreds of generations, and the millions of individuals, during the sixty centuries that have elapsed since the origin of man, will all of it minister to the ultimate and everlasting weal of the entire race. There is no need therefore, he affirms, of endeavoring to save such feeble and ignorant beings from judicial condemnation and eternal penalty. Such finiteness and helplessness cannot be put into relations to such an awful attribute as the eternal nemesis of God. Can it be,--he asks,--that the millions upon millions that have been born, lived their brief hour, enjoyed their little joys and suffered their sharp sorrows, and then dropped into "the dark backward and abysm of time," have really been _guilty_ creatures, and have gone down to an endless hell? But what does all this reasoning and querying imply? Will the objector really take the position and stand to it, that the pagan man is not a rational and responsible creature? that he does not possess sufficient knowledge of moral truth, to justify his being brought to the bar of judgment? Will he say that the population that knew enough to build the pyramids did not know enough to break the law of God? Will he affirm that the civilization of Babylon and Nineveh, of Greece and Rome, did not contain within it enough of moral intelligence to constitute a foundation for rewards and punishments? Will he tell us that the people of Sodom and Gomorrah stood upon the same plane with the brutes that perish, and the trees of the field that rot and die, having no idea of God, knowing nothing of the distinction between right and wrong, and never feeling the pains of an accusing conscience? Will he maintain that the populations of India, in the midst of whom one of the most subtile and ingenious systems of pantheism has sprung up with the luxuriance and involutions of one of their own jungles, and has enervated the whole religious sentiment of the Hindoo race as opium has enervated their physical frame,--will he maintain that such an untiring and persistent mental activity as this is incapable of apprehending the first principles of ethics and natural religion, which, in comparison with the complicated and obscure ratiocinations of Boodhism, are clear as water, and lucid as atmospheric air? In other connections, this theorist does not speak in this style. In other connections, and for the purpose of exaggerating natural religion and disparaging revealed, he enlarges upon the dignity of man, of every man, and eulogizes the power of reason which so exalts him in the scale of being. With Hamlet, he dilates in proud and swelling phrase: "What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!" It is from that very class of theorizers who deny that the heathen are in danger of eternal perdition, and who represent the whole missionary enterprise as a work of supererogation, that we receive the most extravagant accounts of the natural powers and gifts of man. Now if these powers and gifts do belong to human nature by its constitution, they certainly lay a foundation for responsibility; and all such theorists must either be able to show that the pagan man has made a right use of them, and has walked according to this large amount of truth and reason with which, according to their own statement, he is endowed, or else they consign him, as St. Paul does, to "the wrath of God which is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness, and unrighteousness of _men who hold the truth in unrighteousness_." If you assert that the pagan man has had no talents at all committed to him, and can prove your assertion, and will stand by it, you are consistent in denying that he can be summoned to the bar of God, and be tried for eternal life or death. But if you concede that he has had one talent, or two talents, committed to his charge; and still more, if you exaggerate his gifts and endow him with five or ten talents, then it is impossible for you to save him from the judgment to come, except you can prove a _perfect_ administration and use of the trust.[3] 2. In the second place, it follows from the doctrine of the text, that _the degraded and brutalized population of large cities is in a state of condemnation and perdition_. There are heathen near our own doors whose religious condition is as sad, and hopeless, as that of the heathen of Patagonia or New Zealand. The vice and crime that nestles and riots in the large cities of Christendom has become a common theme, and has lost much of its interest for the worldly mind by losing its novelty. The manners and way of life of the outcast population of London and Paris have been depicted by the novelist, and wakened a momentary emotion in the readers of fiction. But the reality is stern and dreadful, beyond imagination or conception. There is in the cess-pools of the great capitals of Christendom a mass of human creatures who are born, who live, and who die, in moral putrefaction. Their existence is a continued career of sin and woe. Body and soul, mind and heart, are given up to earth, to sense, to corruption. They emerge for a brief season into the light of day, run their swift and fiery career of sin, and then disappear. Dante, in that wonderful Vision which embodies so much of true ethics and theology, represents the wrathful and gloomy class as sinking down under the miry waters and continuing to breathe in a convulsive, suffocating manner, sending up bubbles to the surface, that mark the place where they are drawing out their lingering existence.[4] Something like this, is the wretched life of a vicious population. As we look in upon the fermenting mass, the only signs of life that meet our view indicate that the life is feverish, spasmodic, and suffocating. The bubbles rising to the dark and turbid surface reveal that it is a life in death. But this, too, is the result of sin. Take the atoms one by one that constitute this mass of pollution and misery, and you will find that each one of them is a self-moving and an unforced will. Not one of these millions of individuals has been necessitated by Almighty God, or by any of God's arrangements, to do wrong. Each one of them is a moral agent, equally with you and me. Each one of them is _self_-willed and _self_-determined in sin. He does not _like_ to retain religious truth in his mind, or to obey it in his heart. Go into the lowest haunt of vice and select out the most imbruted person there; bring to his remembrance that class of truths with which he is already acquainted by virtue of his rational nature, and add to them that other class of truths taught in Revelation, and you will find that he is predetermined against them. He takes sides, with all the depth and intensity of his being, with that sinfulness which is common to man, and which it is the aim of both ethics and the gospel to remove. This vicious and imbruted man _loves_ the sin which is forbidden, more than he loves the holiness that is commanded. He _inclines_ to the sin which so easily besets him, precisely as you and I incline to the bosom-sin which so easily besets us. We grant that the temptations that assail him are very powerful; but are not some of the temptations that beset you and me very powerful? We grant that this wretched slave of vice and pollution cannot break off his sins by righteousness, without the renewing and assisting grace of God; but neither can you or I. It is the action of _his own_ will that has made him a slave. He loves his chains and his bondage, even as you and I naturally love ours; and this proves that his moral corruption, though assuming an outwardly more repulsive form than ours, is yet the same thing in principle. It is the rooted aversion of the human heart, the utter disinclination of the human will, towards the purity and holiness of God; it is "the carnal mind which is enmity against God; for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be" (Rom. viii. 7). But there is no more convincing proof of the position, that the degraded creature of whom we are speaking is a self-deciding and unforced sinner, than the fact that he _resists_ efforts to reclaim him. Ask these faithful and benevolent missionaries who go down into these dens of vice and pollution, to pour more light into the mind, and to induce these outcasts to leave their drunkenness and their debauchery,--ask them if they find that human nature is any different there from what it is elsewhere, so far as _yielding_ to the claims of God and law is concerned. Do they tell you that they are uniformly successful in inducing these sinners to leave their sins? that they never find any self-will, any determined opposition to the holy law of purity, any preference of a life of licence with its woes here upon earth and hereafter in hell, to a life of self-denial with its joys eternal? On the contrary, they testify that the old maxim upon which so many millions of the human family have acted: "Enjoy the present and jump the life to come," is the rule for this mass of population, of whom so very few can be persuaded to leave their cups and their orgies. Like the people of Israel, when expostulated with by the prophet Jeremiah for their idolatry and pollution, the majority of the degraded population of whom we are speaking, when endeavors have been made to reclaim them, have said to the philanthropist and the missionary: "There is no hope: no; for I have loved strangers, and after them I will go" (Jer. ii. 25). There is not a single individual of them all who does not love the sin that is destroying him, more than he loves the holiness that would save him. Notwithstanding all the horrible accompaniments of sin--the filth, the disease, the poverty, the sickness, the pain of both body and mind,--the wretched creature prefers to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season, rather than come out and separate himself from the unclean thing, and begin that holy warfare and obedience to which his God and his Saviour invite him. This, we repeat, proves that the sin is not forced upon this creature. For if he hated his sin, nay if he felt weary and heavy laden in the least degree because of it, he might leave it. There is a free grace, and a proffered assistance of the Holy Ghost, of which he might avail himself at any moment. Had he the feeling of the weary and penitent prodigal, the same father's house is ever open for his return; and the same father seeing him on his return, though still a great way off, would run and fall upon his neck and kiss him. But the heart is hard, and the spirit is utterly _selfish_, and the will is perverse and determined, and therefore the natural knowledge of God and his law which this sinner possesses by his very constitution, and the added knowledge which his birth in a Christian land and the efforts of benevolent Christians have imparted to him, are not strong enough to overcome his inclination, and his preference, and induce him to break off his sins by righteousness. To him, also, as well as to every sin-loving man, these solemn words will be spoken in the day of final adjudication: "The wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness, and unrighteousness, of men who hold down ([Greek: katechein]) the truth in unrighteousness; because that which may be known of God is manifest _within_ them; for God hath shewed it unto them. For the invisible things of him, even his eternal power and Godhead, are clearly seen from the creation of the world, being understood by the things that are made; so that they are without excuse, because that when they knew God. they glorified him not as God." 3. In the third and last place, it follows from this doctrine of the apostle Paul, as thus unfolded, that _that portion of the enlightened and cultivated population of Christian lands who have not believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, and repented of sin, are in the deepest state of condemnation and perdition._ "Behold thou art called a Jew, and restest in the law, and makest thy boast of God, and knowest his will, and approvest the things that are more excellent, being instructed out of the law, and art confident that thou thyself art a guide of the blind, a light of them which are in darkness: an instructor of the foolish, a teacher of babes: which hast the form of knowledge, and of the truth, in the law: thou therefore that teachest another teachest thou not thyself? thou that makest thy boast of the law, through breaking the law dishonored thou God?" If it be true that the pagan knows more of God and the moral law than he has ever put in practice; if it be true that the imbruted child of vice and pollution knows more of God and the moral law than he has ever put in practice; how much more fearfully true is it that the dweller in a Christian home, the visitant of the house of God, the possessor of the written Word, the listener to prayer and oftentimes the subject of it, possesses an amount of knowledge respecting his origin, his duty, and his destiny, that infinitely outruns his character and his conduct. If eternal punishment will come down upon those classes of mankind who know but comparatively little, because they have been unfaithful in that which is least, surely eternal punishment will come down upon that more favored class who know comparatively much, because they have been unfaithful in that which is much. "If these things are done in the green tree, what shall be done in the dry?" The great charge that will rest against the creature when he stands before the final bar will be, that "when he knew God, he _glorified_ Him not as God." And this will rest heaviest against those whose knowledge was the clearest. It is a great prerogative to be able to know the infinite and glorious Creator; but it brings with it a most solemn responsibility. That blessed Being, of right, challenges the homage and obedience of His creature. What he asks of the angel, that he asks of man; that he should glorify God in his body and spirit which are His, and should thereby enjoy God forever and forever. This is the condemnation, under which man, and especially enlightened and cultivated man, rests, that while he knows God he neither glorifies Him nor enjoys Him. Our Redeemer saw this with all the clearness of the Divine Mind; and to deliver the creature from the dreadful guilt, of his self-idolatry, of his disposition to worship and love the creature more than the Creator, He became incarnate, suffered and died. It cannot be a small crime, that necessitated, such an apparatus of atonement and Divine influences as that of Christ and His redemption. Estimate the guilt of coming short of the glory of God, which is the same as the guilt of idolatry and creature-worship, by the nature of the provision that has been made to cancel it. If you do not actually feel that this crime is great, then argue yourself towards a juster view, by the consideration that it cost the blood of Christ to expiate it. If you do not actually feel that the guilt is great, then argue yourself towards a juster view, by the reflection that you have known God to be supremely great, supremely good, and supremely excellent, and yet you have never, in a single feeling of your heart, or a single thought of your mind, or a single purpose of your will, _honored_ Him. It is honor, reverence, worship, and love that He requires. These you have never rendered; and there is an infinity of guilt in the fact. That guilt will be forgiven for Christ's sake, if you ask for forgiveness. But if you do not ask, then it will stand recorded against you for eternal ages: "When he, a rational and immortal creature, knew God, he glorified Him not as God." [Footnote 1: The early Fathers, in their defence of the Christian doctrine of one God, against the objections of the pagan advocate of the popular mythologies, contend that the better pagan writers themselves agree with the new religion, in teaching that there is one Supreme Being. LACTANTIUS (Institutiones i. 5), after quoting the Orphic poets, Hesiod, Virgil, and Ovid, in proof that the heathen poets taught the unity of the Supreme Deity, proceeds to show that the better pagan philosophers, also, agree with them in this. "Aristotle," he says, "although he disagrees with himself, and says many things that are self-contradictory, yet testifies that one Supreme Mind rules over the world. Plato, who is regarded as the wisest philosopher of them all, plainly and openly defends the doctrine of a divine monarchy, and denominates the Supreme Being; not ether, nor reason, nor nature, but, as he is, _God_; and asserts that by him this perfect and admirable world was made. And Cicero follows Plato, frequently confessing the Deity, and calls him the Supreme Being, in his treatise on the Laws." TERTULLIAN (De Test. An. c. 1; Adv. Marc. i. 10; Ad. Scap. c. 2; Apol. c. 17), than whom no one of the Christian Fathers was more vehemently opposed to the philosophizing of the schools, earnestly contends that the doctrine of the unity of God is constitutional to the human mind. "God," he says, "proves himself to be God, and the one only God, by the very fact that He is known to _all_ nations; for the existence of any other deity than He would first have to be demonstrated. The God of the Jews is the one whom the _souls_ of men call their God. We worship one God, the one whom ye all naturally know, at whose lightnings and thunders ye tremble, at whose benefits ye rejoice. Will ye that we prove the Divine existence by the witness of the soul itself, which, although confined by the prison of the body, although circumscribed by bad training, although enervated by lusts and passions, although made the servant of false gods, yet when it recovers itself as from a surfeit, as from a slumber, as from some infirmity, and is in its proper condition of soundness, calls God by _this_ name only, because it is the proper name of the true God. 'Great God,' 'good God,' and 'God grant' [deus, not dii], are words in every mouth. The soul also witnesses that He is its judge, when it says, 'God sees,' 'I commend to God,' 'God shall recompense me.' O testimony of a soul naturally Christian [i.e., monotheistic]! Finally, in pronouncing these words, it looks not to the Roman capitol, but to heaven; for it knows the dwelling-place of the true God: from Him and from thence it descended." CALVIN (Inst. i. 10) seems to have had these statements in his eye, in the following remarks: "In almost all ages, religion has been generally corrupted. It is true, indeed, that the name of one Supreme God has been universally known and celebrated. For those who used to worship a multitude of deities, whenever they spake according to the genuine sense of nature, used simply the name of God in the _singular_ number, as though they were contented with one God. And this was wisely remarked by Justin Martyr, who for this purpose wrote a book 'On the Monarchy of God,' in which he demonstrates, from numerous testimonies, that the unity of God is a principle universally impressed on the hearts of men. Tertullian (De Idololatria) also proves the same point, from the common phraseology. But since all men, without exception, have become vain in their understandings, all their natural perception of the Divine Unity has only served to render them inexcusable." In consonance with these views, the Presbyterian CONFESSION OF FAITH (ch. i.) affirms that "the light of nature, and the works of creation and providence, do so far manifest the goodness, wisdom, and power of God, as to leave men inexcusable."] [Footnote 2: The word [Greek: apolountai], in Rom. ii. 12, is opposed to the [Greek: sotaeria] spoken of in Rom. i. 16, and therefore signifies _eternal_ perdition, as that signifies _eternal_ salvation.-Those theorists who reject revealed religion, and remand man back to the first principles of ethics and morality as the only religion that he needs, send him to a tribunal that damns him. "Tell me," says St. Paul, "ye that desire to be under the law, do ye not hear the law? The law is not of faith, but the man that _doeth_ them shall live by them. Circumcision verily profiteth if thou _keep_ the law; but if thou be a breaker of the law, thy circumcision is made uncircumcision." If man had been true to all the principles and precepts of natural religion, it would indeed be religion enough for him. But he has not been thus true. The entire list of vices and sins recited by St. Paul, in the first chapter of Romans, is as contrary to natural religion, as it is to revealed. And it is precisely because the pagan world has not obeyed the principles of natural religion, and is under a curse and a bondage therefor, that it is in perishing need of the truths of revealed religion. Little do those know what they are saying, when they propose to find a salvation for the pagan in the mere light of natural reason and conscience. What pagan has ever realized the truths of natural conscience, in his inward character and his outward life? What pagan is there in all the generations that will not be found guilty before the bar of natural religion? What heathen will not need an atonement, for his failure to live up even to the light of nature? Nay, what is the entire sacrificial cultus of heathenism, but a confession that the whole heathen world finds and feels itself to be guilty at the bar of natural reason and conscience? The accusing voice within them wakes their forebodings and fearful looking-for of Divine judgment, and they endeavor to propitiate the offended Power by their offerings and sacrifices.] [Footnote 3: Infidelity is constantly changing its ground. In the 18th century, the skeptic very generally took the position of Lord Herbert of Cherbury, and maintained that the light of reason is very clear, and is adequate to all the religious needs of the soul. In the 19th century, he is now passing to the other extreme, and contending that man is kindred to the ape, and within the sphere of paganism does not possess sufficient moral intelligence to constitute him responsible. Like Luther's drunken beggar on horseback, the opponent of Revelation sways from the position that man is a god, to the position that he is a chimpanzee.] [Footnote 4: DANTE: Inferno, vii. 100-130.] SIN IN THE HEART THE SOURCE OF ERROR IN THE HEAD ROMANS i. 28.--"As they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind." In the opening of the most logical and systematic treatise in the New Testament, the Epistle to the Romans, the apostle Paul enters upon a line of argument to demonstrate the ill-desert of every human creature without exception. In order to this, he shows that no excuse can be urged upon the ground of moral ignorance. He explicitly teaches that the pagan knows that there is one Supreme God (Rom. i. 20); that He is a spirit (Rom. i. 23); that He is holy and sin-hating (Rom. i. 18); that He is worthy to be worshipped (Rom. i. 21, 25); and that men ought to be thankful for His benefits (Rom. i. 21). He affirms that the heathen knows that an idol is a lie (Rom. i. 25); that licentiousness is a sin (Rom. i. 26, 32); that envy, malice, and deceit are wicked (Rom. i. 29, 32); and that those who practise such sins deserve eternal punishment (Rom. i. 32). In these teachings and assertions, the apostle has attributed no small amount and degree of moral knowledge to man as _man_,--to man outside of Revelation, as well as under its shining light. The question very naturally arises: How comes it to pass that this knowledge which Divine inspiration postulates, and affirms to be innate and constitutional to the human mind, should become so vitiated? The majority of mankind are idolaters and polytheists, and have been for thousands of years. Can it be that the truth that there is only one God is native to the human spirit, and that the pagan "_knows_" this God? The majority of men are earthly and sensual, and have been for thousands of years. Can it be that there is a moral law written upon their hearts forbidding such carnality, and enjoining purity and holiness? Some theorizers argue that because the pagan man has not obeyed the law, therefore he does not know the law; and that because he has not revered and worshipped the one Supreme Deity, therefore he does not possess the idea of any such Being. They look out upon the heathen populations and see them bowing down to stocks and stones, and witness their immersion in the abominations of heathenism, and conclude that these millions of human beings really know no better, and that therefore it is unjust to hold them responsible for their polytheism and their moral corruption. But why do they confine this species of reasoning to the pagan world? Why do they not bring it into nominal Christendom, and apply it there? Why does not this theorist go into the midst of European civilization, into the heart of London or Paris, and gauge the moral knowledge of the sensualist by the moral character of the sensualist? Why does he not tell us that because this civilized man acts no better, therefore he knows no better? Why does he not maintain that because this voluptuary breaks all the commandments in the decalogue, therefore he must be ignorant of all the commandments in the decalogue? that because he neither fears nor loves the one only God, therefore he does not know that there is any such Being? It will never do to estimate man's moral knowledge by man's moral character. He knows more than he practises. And there is not so much difference in this particular between some men in nominal Christendom, and some men in Heathendom, as is sometimes imagined. The moral knowledge of those who lie in the lower strata of Christian civilization, and those who lie in the higher strata of Paganism, is probably not so very far apart. Place the imbruted outcasts of our metropolitan population beside the Indian hunter, with his belief in the Great Spirit, and his worship without images or pictorial representations;[1] beside the stalwart Mandingo of the high table-lands of Central Africa, with his active and enterprising spirit, carrying on manufactures and trade with all the keenness of any civilized worldling; beside the native merchants and lawyers of Calcutta, who still cling to their ancestral Boodhism, or else substitute French infidelity in its place; place the lowest of the highest beside the highest of the lowest, and tell us if the difference is so very marked. Sin, like holiness, is a mighty leveler. The "dislike to retain God" in the consciousness, the aversion of the heart towards the purity of the moral law, vitiates the native perceptions alike in Christendom and Paganism. The theory that the pagan is possessed of such an amount and degree of moral knowledge as has been specified has awakened some apprehension in the minds of some Christian theologians, and has led them, unintentionally to foster the opposite theory, which, if strictly adhered, to, would lift off all responsibility from the pagan world, would bring them in innocent at the bar of God, and would render the whole enterprise of Christian missions a superfluity and an absurdity. Their motive has been good. They have feared to attribute any degree of accurate knowledge of God and the moral law, to the pagan world, lest they should thereby conflict with the doctrine of total depravity. They have mistakenly supposed, that if they should concede to every man, by virtue of his moral constitution, some correct apprehensions of ethics and natural religion, it would follow that there is some native goodness in him. But light in the intellect is very different from life in the heart. It is one thing to know the law of God, and quite another thing to be conformed to it. Even if we should concede to the degraded pagan, or the degraded dweller in the haunts of vice in Christian lands, all the intellectual knowledge of God and the moral law that is possessed by the ruined archangel himself, we should not be adding a particle to his moral character or his moral excellence. There is nothing of a holy quality in the mere intellectual perception that there is one Supreme Deity, and that He has issued a pure and holy law for the guidance of all rational beings. The mere doctrine of the Divine Unity will save no man. "Thou believest," says St. James, "that there is one God; thou doest well, the devils also believe and tremble." Satan himself is a monotheist, and knows very clearly all the commandments of God; but his heart and will are in demoniacal antagonism with them. And so it is, only in a lower degree, in the instance of the pagan, and of the natural man, in every age, and in every clime. He knows more than he practises. This intellectual perception therefore, this inborn constitutional apprehension, instead of lifting up man into a higher and more favorable position before the eternal bar, casts him down to perdition. If he knew nothing at all of his Maker and his duty, he could not be held responsible, and could, not be summoned to judgment. As St. Paul affirms: "Where there is no law there is no transgression." But if, when he knew God in some degree, he glorified him not as God to that degree; and if, when the moral law was written upon the heart he went counter to its requirements, and heard the accusing voice of his own conscience; then his mouth must be stopped, and he must become guilty before his Judge, like any and every other disobedient creature. It is this serious and damning fact in the history of man upon the globe, that St. Paul brings to view, in the passage which we have selected as the foundation of this discourse. He accounts for all the idolatry and sensuality, all the darkness and vain imaginations of paganism, by referring to _the aversion of the natural heart_ towards the one only holy God. "Men," he says,--these pagan men--"did not _like to retain_ God in their knowledge." The primary difficulty was in their affections, and not in their understandings. They knew too much for their own comfort in sin. The contrast between the Divine purity that was mirrored in their conscience, and the sinfulness that was wrought into their heart and will, rendered this inborn constitutional idea of God a very painful one. It was a fire in the bones. If the Psalmist, a renewed man, yet not entirely free from human corruption, could say: "I thought of God and was troubled," much more must the totally depraved man of paganism be filled with terror when, in the thoughts of his heart, in the hour when the accusing conscience was at work, he brought to mind the one great God of gods whom he did not glorify, and whom he had offended. It was no wonder, therefore, that he did not like to retain the idea of such a Being in his consciousness, and that he adopted all possible expedients to get rid of it. The apostle informs us that the pagan actually called in his imagination to his aid, in order to extirpate, if possible, all his native and rational ideas and convictions upon religious subjects. He became vain in his imaginations, and his foolish heart as a consequence was darkened, and he changed the glory of the incorruptible God, the spiritual unity of the Deity, into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things (Rom. i. 21-23). He invented idolatry, and all those "gay religions full of pomp and gold," in order to blunt the edge of that sharp spiritual conception of God which was continually cutting and lacerating his wicked and sensual heart. Hiding himself amidst the columns of his idolatrous temples, and under the smoke of his idolatrous incense, he thought like Adam to escape from the view and inspection of that Infinite One who, from the creation of the world downward, makes known to all men his eternal power and godhead; who, as St. Paul taught the philosophers of Athens, is not far from anyone of his rational creatures (Acts xvii. 27); and who, as the same apostle taught the pagan Lycaonians, though in times past he suffered all nations to walk in their own ways, yet left not himself without witness, in that he did good, and gave them rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling their hearts with food and gladness. (Acts xiv. 16, 17). The first step in the process of mutilating the original idea of God, as a unity and an unseen Spirit, is seen in those pantheistic religions which lie behind all the mythologies of the ancient world, like a nebulous vapor out of which the more distinct idols and images of paganism are struggling. Here the notion of the Divine unity is still preserved; but the Divine personality and holiness are lost. God becomes a vague impersonal Power, with no moral qualities, and no religious attributes; and it is difficult to say which is worst in its moral influence, this pantheism which while retaining the doctrine of the Divine unity yet denudes the Deity of all that renders him an object of either love or reverence, or the grosser idolatries that succeeded it. For man cannot love, with all his mind and heart and soul and strength, a vast impersonal force working blindly through infinite space and everlasting time. And the second and last stage in this process of vitiating the true idea of God appears in that polytheism in the midst of which St. Paul lived, and labored, and preached, and died; in that seductive and beautiful paganism, that classical idolatry, which still addresses the human taste in such a fascinating manner, in the Venus de Medici, and the Apollo Belvidere. The idea of the unity of God is now mangled and cut up into the "gods many" and the "lords many," into the thirty thousand divinities of the pagan pantheon. This completes the process. God now gives his guilty creature over to these vain imaginations of naturalism, materialism, and idolatry, and to an increasingly darkening mind, until in the lowest forms of heathenism he so distorts and suppresses the concreated idea of the Deity that some speculatists assert that it does not belong to his constitution, and that his Maker never endowed him with it. How is the gold become dim! How is the most fine gold changed! But it will be objected that all this lies in the past. This is the account of a process that has required centuries, yea millenniums, to bring about. A hundred generations have been engaged in transmuting the monotheism with which the human race started, into the pantheism and polytheism in which the great majority of it is now involved. How do you establish the guilt of those at the end of the line? How can you charge upon the present generation of pagans the same culpability that Paul imputed to their ancestors eighteen centuries ago, and that Noah the preacher of righteousness denounced, upon the antediluvian pagan? As the deteriorating process advances, does not the guilt diminish? and now, in these ends of the ages, and in these dark habitations of cruelty, has not the culpability run down to a minimum, which God in the day of judgment will "wink at?" We answer No: Because the structure of the human mind is precisely the same that it was when the Sodomites held down the truth in unrighteousness, and the Roman populace turned up their thumbs that they might see the last drops of blood ebb slowly from the red gash in the dying gladiator's side. Man, in his deepest degradation, in his most hardened depravity, is still a rational intelligence; and though he should continue to sin on indefinitely, through cycles of time as long as those of geology, he cannot unmake himself; he cannot unmould his immortal essence, and absolutely eradicate all his moral ideas. Paganism itself has its fluctuations of moral knowledge. The early Roman, in the days of Numa, was highly ethical in his views of the Deity, and his conceptions of moral law. Varro informs us that for a period of one hundred and seventy years the Romans worshipped their gods without any images;[2] and Sallust denominates these pristine Romans "religiosissimi mortales." And how often does the missionary discover a tribe or a race, whose moral intelligence is higher than that of the average of paganism. Nay, the same race, or tribe, passes from one phase of polytheism to another; in one instance exhibiting many of the elements and truths of natural religion, and in another almost entirely suppressing them. These facts prove that the pagan man is under supervision; that he is under the righteous despotism of moral ideas and convictions; that God is not far from him; that he lives and moves and has his being in his Maker; and that God does not leave himself without witness in his constitutional structure. Therefore it is, that this sea of rational intelligence thus surges and sways in the masses of paganism; sometimes dashing the creature up the heights, and sometimes sending him down into the depths. But while this subject has this general application to mankind outside of Revelation; while it throws so much light upon the question of the heathens' responsibility and guilt; while it tends to deepen our interest in the work of Christian missions, and to stimulate us to obey our Redeemer's command to go and preach the gospel to them, in order to save them from the wrath of God which abideth upon them as it does upon ourselves; while this subject has these profound and far-reaching applications, it also presses with sharpness and energy upon the case, and the position, of millions of men in Christendom. And to this more particular aspect of the theme, we ask attention for a moment. This same process of corruption, and vitiation of a correct knowledge of God, which we have seen to go on upon a large scale in the instance of the heathen world, also often goes on in the instance of a single individual under the light of Revelation itself. Have you never known a person to have been well educated in childhood and youth respecting the character and government of God, and yet in middle life and old age to have altered and corrupted all his early and accurate apprehensions, by the gradual adoption of contrary views and sentiments? In his childhood, and youth, he believed that God distinguishes between the righteous and the wicked, that he rewards the one and punishes the other, and hence he cherished a salutary fear of his Maker that agreed well with the dictates of his unsophisticated reason, and the teachings of nature and revelation. But when, he became a man, he put away these childish things, in a far different sense from that of the Apostle. As the years rolled, along, he succeeded, by a career of worldliness and of sensuality, in expelling this stock of religious knowledge, this right way of conceiving of God, from his mind, and now at the close of life and upon the very brink of eternity and of doom, this very same person is as unbelieving respecting the moral attributes of Jehovah, and as unfearing with regard to them, as if the entire experience and creed of his childhood and youth were a delusion and a lie. This rational and immortal creature in the morning of his existence looked up into the clear sky with reverence, being impressed by the eternal power and godhead that are there, and when he had committed a sin he felt remorseful and guilty; but the very same person now sins recklessly and with flinty hardness of heart, casts sullen or scowling glances upward, and says: "There is no God." Compare the Edward Gibbon whose childhood expanded under the teachings of a beloved Christian matron trained in the school of the devout William Law, and whose youth exhibited unwonted religions sensibility,--compare this Edward Gibbon with the Edward Gibbon whose manhood was saturated with utter unbelief, and whose departure into the dread hereafter was, in his own phrase, "a leap in the dark." Compare the Aaron Burr whose blood was deduced from one of the most saintly lineages in the history of the American church, and all of whose early life was embosomed in ancestral piety,--compare this Aaron Burr with the Aaron Burr whose middle life and prolonged old age was unimpressible as marble to all religious ideas and influences. In both of these instances, it was the aversion of the heart that for a season (not for _eternity_, be it remembered) quenched out the light in the head. These men, like the pagan of whom St. Paul speaks, did not like to retain a holy God in their knowledge, and He gave them over to a reprobate mind. These fluctuations and changes in doctrinal belief, both in the general and the individual mind, furnish materials for deep reflection by both the philosopher and the Christian; and such an one will often be led to notice the exact parallel and similarity there is between religious deterioration in races, and religious deterioration in individuals. The _dislike to retain_ a knowledge already furnished, because it is painful, because it rebukes worldliness and sin, is that which ruins both mankind in general, and the man in particular. Were the heart only conformed to the truth, the truth never would be corrupted, never would be even temporarily darkened in the human soul. Should the pagan, himself, actually obey the dictates of his own reason and conscience, he would find the light that was in him growing still clearer and brighter. God himself, the author of his rational mind, and the Light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world, would reward him for his obedience by granting him yet more knowledge. We cannot say in what particular mode the Divine providence would bring it about, but it is as certain as that God lives, that if the pagan world should act up to the degree of light which they enjoy, they would be conducted ultimately to the truth as it is in Jesus, and would be saved by the Redeemer of the world. The instance of the Roman centurion Cornelius is a case in point. This was a thoughtful and serious pagan. It is indeed very probable that his military residence in Palestine had cleared up, to some degree, his natural intuitions of moral truth; but we know that he was ignorant of the way of salvation through Christ, from the fact that the apostle Peter was instructed in a vision to go and preach it unto him. The sincere endeavor of this Gentile, this then pagan in reference to Christianity, to improve the little knowledge which he had, met with the Divine approbation, and was crowned with a saving acquaintance with the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. Peter himself testified to this, when, after hearing from the lips of Cornelius the account of his previous life, and of the way in which God had led him, "he opened his mouth and said, Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: but in every nation, he that feareth him and worketh righteousness is accepted with him" (Acts x. 34, 35).[3] But such instances as this of Cornelius are not one in millions upon millions. The light shines in the darkness that comprehends it not. Almost without an exception, so far as the human eye can see, the unevangelized world holds the truth in unrighteousness, and does not like to retain the idea of a holy God, and a holy law, in its knowledge. Therefore the knowledge continually diminishes; the light of natural reason and conscience grows dimmer and dimmer; and the soul sinks down in the mire of sin and sensuality, apparently devoid of all the higher ideas of God, and law, and immortal life. We have thus considered the truth which St. Paul teaches in the text, that the ultimate source of all human error is in the character of the human heart. Mankind do not _like to retain_ God in their knowledge, and therefore they come to possess a reprobate mind. The origin of idolatry, and of infidelity, is not in the original constitution with which the Creator endowed the creature, but in that evil heart of unbelief by which he departed from the living God. Sinful man shapes his creed in accordance with his wishes, and not in accordance with the unbiased decisions of his reason and conscience. He does not _like_ to think of a holy God, and therefore he denies that God is holy. He does not _like_ to think of the eternal punishment of sin, and therefore he denies that punishment is eternal. He does not _like_ to be pardoned through the substituted sufferings of the Son of God, and therefore he denies the doctrine of atonement. He does not _like_ the truth that man is so totally alienated from God that he needs to be renewed in the spirit of his mind by the Holy Ghost, and therefore he denies the doctrines of depravity and regeneration. Run through the creed which the Church has lived by and died by, and you will discover that the only obstacle to its reception is the aversion of the human heart. It is a rational creed in all its parts and combinations. It has outlived the collisions and conflicts of a hundred schools of infidelity that have had their brief day, and died with their devotees. A hundred systems of philosophy falsely so called have come and gone, but the one old religion of the patriarchs, and the prophets, and the apostles, holds on its way through the centuries, conquering and to conquer. Can it be that sheer imposture and error have such a tenacious vitality as this? If reason is upon the side of infidelity, why does not infidelity remain one and the same unchanging thing, like Christianity, from age to age, and subdue all men unto it? If Christianity is a delusion and a lie, why does it not die out, and disappear? The difficulty is not upon the side of the human reason, but of the human heart. Skeptical men do not _like_ the religion of the New Testament, these doctrines of sin and grace, and therefore they shape their creed by their sympathies and antipathies; by what they wish to have true; by their heart rather than by their head. As the Founder of Christianity said to the Jews, so he says to every man who rejects His doctrine of grace and redemption: "Ye _will_ not come unto me that ye might have life." It is an inclination of the will, and not a conviction of the reason, that prevents the reception of the Christian religion. Among the many reflections that are suggested by this subject and its discussion, our limits permit only the following: 1. It betokens deep wickedness, in any man, to change the truth of God into a lie,--_to substitute a false theory in religion for the true one_. "Woe unto them," says the prophet, "that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter." There is no form of moral evil that is more hateful in the sight of Infinite Truth, than that intellectual depravity which does not like to retain a holy God in its knowledge, and therefore mutilates the very idea of the Deity, and attempts to make him other than he is. There is no sinner that will be visited with a heavier vengeance than that cool and calculating man, who, because he dislikes the unyielding purity of the moral law, and the awful sanctions by which it is accompanied, deliberately alters it to suit his wishes and his self-indulgence. If a person is tempted and falls into sin, and yet does not change his religious creed in order to escape the reproaches of conscience and the fear of retribution, there is hope that the orthodoxy of his head may result, by God's blessing upon his own truth, in sorrow for the sin and a forsaking thereof. A man, for instance, who amidst all his temptations and transgressions still retains the truth taught him from the Scriptures, at his mother's knees, that a finally impenitent sinner will go down to eternal torment, feels a powerful check upon his passions, and is often kept from outward and actual transgressions by his creed. But if he deliberately, and by an act of will, says in his heart: "There is no hell;" if he substitutes for the theory that renders the commission of sin dangerous and fearful, a theory that relieves it from all danger and all fear, there is no hope that he will ever cease from sinning. On the contrary, having brought his head into harmony with his heart; having adjusted his theory to his practice; having shaped his creed by his passions; having changed the truth of God into a lie; he then plunges into sin with an abandonment and a momentum that is awful. In the phrase of the prophet, he "draws iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as it were with a cart-rope." It is here that we see the deep guilt of those, who, by false theories of God and man and law and penalty, tempt the young or the old to their eternal destruction. It is sad and fearful, when the weak physical nature is plied with all the enticements of earth and sense; but it is yet sadder and more fearful, when the intellectual nature is sought to be perverted and ensnared by specious theories that annihilate the distinction between virtue and vice, that take away all holy fear of God, and reverence for His law, that represent the everlasting future either as an everlasting elysium for all, or else as an eternal sleep. The demoralization, in this instance, is central and radical. It is in the brain, in the very understanding itself. If the foundations themselves of morals and religion are destroyed, what can be done for the salvation of the creature? A heavy woe is denounced against any and every one who tempts a fellow-being. Temptation implies malice. It is Satanic. It betokens a desire to ruin an immortal spirit. When therefore the siren would allure a human creature from the path of virtue, the inspiration of God utters a deep and bitter curse against her. But when the cold-blooded Mephistopheles endeavors to sophisticate the reason, to debauch the judgment, to sear the conscience; when the temptation is addressed to the intellect, and the desire of the tempter is to overthrow the entire religious creed of a human being,--perhaps a youth just entering upon that hazardous enterprise of life in which he needs every jot and tittle of eternal truth to guide and protect him,--when the enticement assumes this purely mental form and aspect, it betokens the most malignant and heaven-daring guilt in the tempter. And we may be certain that the retribution that will be meted out to it, by Him who is true and The Truth; who abhors all falsehood and all lies with an infinite intensity; will be terrible beyond conception. "Woe unto you ye _blind guides_! Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell! If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book. And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things that are written in this book." 2. In the second place, we perceive, in the light of this subject, _the great danger of not reducing religious truth to practice_. There are two fatal hazards in not obeying the doctrines of the Bible while yet there is an intellectual assent to them. The first is, that these doctrines shall themselves become diluted and corrupted. So long as the affectionate submission of the heart is not yielded to their authority; so long as there is any dislike towards their holy claims; there is great danger that, as in the instance of the pagan, they will not be retained in the knowledge. The sinful man becomes weary of a form of doctrine that continually rebukes him, and gradually changes it into one that is less truthful and restraining. But a second and equally alarming danger is, that the heart shall become accustomed to the truth, and grow hard and indifferent towards it. There are a multitude of persons who hear the word of God and never dream of disputing it, who yet, alas, never dream of obeying it. To such the living truth of the gospel becomes a petrifaction, and a savor of death unto death. We urge you, therefore, ye who know the doctrines of the law and the doctrines of the gospel, to give an affectionate and hearty assent to them _both_. When the divine Word asserts that you are guilty, and that you cannot stand in the judgment before God, make answer: "It is so, it is so." Practically and deeply acknowledge the doctrine of human guilt and corruption. Let it no longer be a theory in the head, but a humbling salutary consciousness in the heart. And when the divine Word affirms that God so loved the world that he gave his Only-Begotten Son to redeem it, make a quick and joyful response: "It is so, it is so." Instead of changing the truth of God into a lie, as the guilty world have been doing for six thousand years, change it into a blessed consciousness of the soul. Believe_ what you know; and then what you know will be the wisdom of God to your salvation. [Footnote 1: "There are no profane words in the (Iowa) Indian language: no light or profane way of speaking of the 'Great Spirit.'"--FOREIGN MISSIONARY: May, 1863, p. 337.] [Footnote 2: PLUTARCH: Numa, 8; AUGUSTINE: De Civitate, iv. 31.] [Footnote 3: It should be noticed that Cornelius was not prepared for another life, by the moral virtue which he had practised before meeting with Peter, but by his penitence for sin and faith in Jesus Christ, whom Peter preached to him as the Saviour from sin (Acts x. 43). Good works can no more prepare a pagan for eternity than they can a nominal Christian. Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius could no more be justified by their personal character, than Saul of Tarsus could be. First, because the virtue is imperfect, at the best: and, secondly, it does not begin at the beginning of existence upon earth, and continue unintermittently to the end of it. A sense of _sin_ is a far more hopeful indication, in the instance of a heathen, than a sense of virtue. The utter absence of humility and sorrow in the "Meditations" of the philosophic Emperor, and the omnipresence in them of pride and self-satisfaction, place him out of all relations to the Divine _mercy_. In trying to judge of the final condition of a pagan outside of revelation, we must ask the question: Was he penitent? rather than the question: Was he virtuous?] THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. LUKE xi. 13.--"If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children; how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?" The reality, and necessity, of the operation of the Holy Spirit upon the human heart, is a doctrine very frequently taught in the Scriptures. Our Lord, in the passage from which the text is taken, speaks of the third Person in the Trinity in such a manner as to convey the impression that His agency is as indispensable, in order to spiritual life, as food is in order to physical; that sinful man as much needs the influences of the Holy Ghost as he does his daily bread. "If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone?" If this is not at all supposable, in the case of an affectionate earthly parent, much less is it supposable that God the heavenly Father will refuse renewing and sanctifying influences to them that ask for them. By employing such a significant comparison as this, our Lord implies that there is as pressing need of the gift in the one instance as in the other. For, he does not compare spiritual influences with the mere luxuries of life,--with wealth, fame, or power,--but with the very staff of life itself. He selects the very bread by which the human body lives, to illustrate the helpless sinner's need of the Holy Ghost. When God, by his prophet, would teach His people that he would at some future time bestow a rich and remarkable blessing upon them, He says: "I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh." When our Saviour was about to leave his disciples, and was sending them forth as the ministers of his religion, he promised them a direct and supernatural agency that should "reprove the world of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment." And the history of Christianity evinces both the necessity and reality of Divine influences. God the Spirit has actually been present by a special and peculiar agency, in this sinful and hardened world, and hence the heart of flesh and the spread of vital religion. God the Spirit has actually been absent, so far as concerns his special and peculiar agency, and hence the continuance of the heart of stone, and the decline, and sometimes the extinction of vital religion. Where the Holy Spirit has been, specially and peculiarly, there the true Church of Christ has been, and where the Holy Spirit has not been, specially and peculiarly, there, the Church of Christ has not been; however carefully, or imposingly, the externals of a church organization may have been maintained. But there is no stronger, or more effective proof of the need of the presence and agency of the Holy Spirit, than that which is derived from the _nature of the case_, as it appears in the individual. Just in proportion as we come to know our own moral condition, and our own moral necessities, shall we see and feel that the origin and growth of holiness within our earthly and alienated souls, without the agency of God the Holy Spirit, is an utter impossibility. Let us then look into the argument from the nature of the case, and consider this doctrine of a direct Divine operation, in its relations to ourselves personally. Why, then, does every man need these influences of the Holy Spirit which are so cordially offered in the text? 1. He needs them, in the first place, in order that _he may be convinced of the reality of the eternal world._ There is such a world. It has as actual an existence as Europe or Asia. Though not an object for any one of the five senses, the invisible world is as substantial as the great globe itself, and will be standing when the elements shall have been melted with fervent heat, and the heavens are no more. This eternal world, furthermore, is not only real, but it is filled with realities that are yet more solemn. God inhabits it. The judgment-seat of Christ is set up in it. Heaven is in it. Hell is in it. Myriads of myriads of holy and happy spirits are there. Myriads of sinful and wretched spirits are there. Nay, this unseen world is the _only_ real world, and the objects in it the _only_ real objects, if we remember that only that which is immutable deserves the name of real. If we employ the eternal as the measure of real being, then all that is outside of eternity is unreal and a vanity. This material world acquires impressiveness for man, by virtue of the objects that fill it. His farm is in it, his houses are upon it, solid mountains rise up from it, great rivers run through it, and the old rolling heavens are bent over it. But what is the transient reality of these objects, these morning vapors, compared with the everlasting reality of such beings as God and the soul, of such facts as holiness and sin, of such states as heaven and hell? Here, then, we have in the unseen and eternal world a most solemn and real object of knowledge; but where, among mankind, is the solemn and vivid knowledge itself? Knowledge is the union of a fact with a feeling. There may be a stone in the street, but unless I smite it with my foot, or smite it with my eye, I have no knowledge of the stone. So, too, there is an invisible world, outstanding and awfully impressive; but unless I feel its influences, and stand with awe beneath its shadows, it is as though it were not. Here is an orb that has risen up into the horizon, but all eyes are shut. For, no thoughtful observer fails to perceive that an earthly, and unspiritual mode of thought and feeling is the prevalent one among men. No one who has ever endeavored to arrest the attention of a fellow-man, and give his thoughts an upward tendency towards eternity, will say that the effort is easily and generally successful. On the contrary, if an ethereal and holy inhabitant of heaven were to go up and down our earth, and witness man's immersion in sense and time, the earthliness of his views and aims, his neglect of spiritual objects and interests, his absorption in this existence, and his forgetfulness of the other, it would be difficult to convince him that he was among beings made in the image of God, and was mingling with a race having an immortal destination beyond the grave. In this first feature of the case, then, as we find it in ourselves, and see it in all our fellow-men, we have the first evidence of the need of _awakening_ influences from on high. Since man, naturally, is destitute of a solemn sense of eternal things, it is plain that there can be no moral change produced in him, unless he is first wakened from this drowze. He cannot become the subject of that new birth without which he cannot see the kingdom of God, unless his torpor respecting the Unseen is removed. Entirely satisfied as he now is with this mode of existence, and thinking little or nothing about another, the first necessity in his case is a startle, and an alarm. Difficult as he now finds it to be, to bring the invisible world before his mind in a way to affect his feelings, he needs to have it loom upon his inward vision with such power and impressiveness that he cannot take his eye off, if he would. Lethargic as he now is, respecting his own immortality, it is impossible for him to live and act with constant reference to it, unless he is wakened to its significance. Is it not self-evident, that if the sinner's present indifference towards the invisible world, and his failure to feel its solemn reality, continues through life, he will certainly enter that state of existence with his present character? Looking into the human spirit, and seeing how dead it is towards God and the future, must we not say, that if this deadness to eternity lasts until the death of the body, it will certainly be the death of the soul? But, in what way can man be made to realize that there is an eternal world, to which he is rapidly tending, and realities there, with which, by the very constitution of his spirit, he is forever and indissolubly connected either for bliss or woe? How shall thoughtless and earthly man, as he treads these streets, and transacts all this business, and enjoys life, be made to feel with misgiving, foreboding, and alarm, that there is an eternity, and that he must soon enter it, as other men do, either as a heaven or a hell for his soul? The answer to this question, so often asked in sadness and sorrow by the preacher of the word, drives us back to the throne of God and to a mightier agency than that of man. For one thing is certain, that this apathy and deadness will never of itself generate sensibility and life. Satan never casts out Satan. If this slumberer be left to himself, he is lost. Should any man be given over to the natural inclination of his heart, he would never be awakened. Should his earthly mind receive no check, and his corrupt heart take its own way, he would never realize that there is another world than this, until he entered it. For, the worldly mind and the corrupt heart busy themselves solely and happily with this existence. They find pleasure in the things of this life, and therefore never look beyond them. Worldly men do not interfere with their own present actual enjoyment. Who of this class voluntarily makes himself unhappy, by thinking of subjects that are gloomy to his mind? What man of the world starts up from his sweet sleep and his pleasant dreams, and of his own accord looks the stern realities of death and the judgment in the eye? No natural man begins to wound himself, that he may be healed. No earthly man begins to slay himself, that he may be made alive. Even when the natural heart is roused and wakened by some foreign agency; some startling providence of God or some Divine operation in the conscience, how soon, if left to its own motion and tendency, does it relapse into its old slumber and sleep. The needle has received a shock, but after a slight trembling and vibration it soon settles again upon its axis, ever and steady to the north. It is plain, that the sinner's worldly mind and apathetic nature will never conduct him to a proper sense of Divine things. The awakening, then, of the human soul, to an effectual apprehension of eternal realities, must take its first issue from some other Being than the drowzy and slumbering creature himself. We are not speaking of a few serious thoughts that now and then fleet across the human mind, like meteors at midnight, and are seen no more. We are speaking of that permanent, that everlasting dawning of eternity, with its terrors and its splendors, upon the human soul, which allows it no more repose, until it is prepared for eternity upon good grounds and foundations; and with reference to such a profound consciousness of the future state as this, we say with confidence, that the awakening must proceed from some Being who is far more alive to the solemnity and significance of eternal duration than earthly man is. Without impulses from on high, the sinner never rouses up to attend to the subject of religion. He lives on indifferent to his religious interests, until _God_, who is more merciful to his deathless soul than he himself is, by His providence startles him, or by His Spirit in his conscience alarms him. Never, until God interferes to disturb his dreams, and break up his slumber, does he profoundly and permanently feel that he was made for another world, and is fast going into it. How often does God say to the careless man: "Arise, O sleeper, and Christ shall give thee light;" and how often does he disregard the warning voice! How often does God stimulate his conscience, and flare light into his mind; and how often does he stifle down these inward convictions, and suffer the light to shine in the darkness that comprehends it not! These facts in the personal history of every sin-loving man show, that the human soul does not of its own isolated action wake up to the realities of eternity. They also show that God is very merciful to the human soul, in positively and powerfully interfering for its welfare; but that man, in infinite folly and wickedness, loves the sleep, and inclines to remain in it. The Holy Spirit strives, but the human spirit resists. II. In the second place, man needs the influences of the Holy Spirit _that he may be convinced of sin_. Man universally is a sinner, and yet he needs in every single instance to be made aware of it. "There is none good, no, not one;" and yet out of the millions of the race how very few _feel_ this truth! Not only does man sin, but he adds to his guilt by remaining ignorant of it. The criminal in this instance also, as in our courts of law, feels and confesses his crime no faster than it is proved to him. Through what blindness of mind, and hardness of heart, and insensibility of conscience, is the Holy Spirit obliged to force His way, before there is a sincere acknowledgment of sin before God! The careful investigations, the persevering questionings and cross-questionings, by which, before a human tribunal, the wilful and unrepenting criminal is forced to see and acknowledge his wickedness, are but faint emblems of that thorough work that must be wrought by the Holy Ghost, before the human soul, at a higher tribunal, forsaking its refuges of lies, and desisting from its subterfuges and palliations, smites upon the breast, and cries, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" Think how much of our sin has occurred in total apathy, and indifference, and how unwilling we are to have any distinct consciousness upon this subject. It is only now and then that we feel ourselves to be sinners; but it is by no means only now and then that we are sinners. We sin habitually; we are conscious of sin rarely. Our affections and inclinations and motives are evil, and only evil, continually; but our experimental _knowledge_ that they are so comes not often into our mind, and what is worse stays not long, because we dislike it. The conviction of sin, with what it includes and leads to, is of more worth to man than all other convictions. Conviction of any sort,--a living practical consciousness of any kind,--is of great value, because it is only this species of knowledge that moves mankind. Convince a man, that is, give him a consciousness, of the truth of a principle in politics, in trade, or in religion, and you actuate him politically, commercially, or religiously. Convince a criminal of his crime, that is, endue him with a conscious feeling of his criminality, and you make him burn with electric fire. A convicted man is a man thoroughly conscious; and a thoroughly conscious man is a deeply moved one. And this is true, with emphasis, of the conviction of sin. This consciousness produces a deeper and more lasting effect than all others. Convince a community of the justice or injustice of a certain class of political principles, and you stir it very deeply, and broadly, as the history of all democracies clearly shows; but let society be once convinced of sin before the holy and righteous God, and deep calleth unto deep, all the waters are moved. Never is a mass of human beings so centrally stirred, as when the Spirit of God is poured out upon it, and from no movement in human society do such lasting and blessed consequences flow, as from a genuine revival of religion. But here again, as in reference to the eternal state, there is no realizing sense. Conviction of sin is not a characteristic of mankind at large. Men generally will acknowledge in words that they are sinners, but they wait for some far-distant day to come, when they shall be pricked in the heart, and feel the truth of what they say. Men generally are not conscious of the dreadful reality of sin, any more than they are of the solemn reality of eternity. A deep insensibility, in this respect also, precludes a practical knowledge of that guilt in the soul, which, if unpardoned and unremoved, will just as surely ruin it as God lives and the soul is immortal. Since, then, if man be left to his own inclination, he never will be convinced of sin, it is plain that some Agent who has the power must overcome his aversion to self-knowledge, and bring him to consciousness upon this unwelcome subject. If any one of us, for the remainder of our days, should be given over to that ordinary indifference towards sin with which we walk these streets, and transact business, and enjoy life; if God's truth should never again in this world stab the conscience, and God's Spirit should never again make us anxious; is it not infallibly certain that the future would be as the past, and that we should go through this "accepted time and day of salvation" unconvicted and therefore unconverted? But besides this destitution of the experimental sense of sin, another ground of the need of Divine agency is found in the _blindness_ of the natural mind. Man's vision of spiritual things, even when they are set before his eyes, is dim and inadequate. The Christian ministry is greatly hindered, because it cannot illuminate the human understanding, and impart the power of a keen spiritual insight. It is compelled to present the objects of sight, but it cannot give the eye to see them. Vision depends altogether upon the condition of the organ. The eye sees only what it brings the means of seeing. The scaled eye of a worldling, or a debauchee, or a self-righteous man, cannot see that sin of the heart, that "spiritual wickedness," at which men like Paul and Isaiah stood aghast. These were men whose character compared with that of the worldling was saintly; men whose shoes' latchets the worldling is not worthy to stoop down and unloose. And yet they saw a depravity within their own hearts which he does not see in his; a depravity which he cannot see, and which he steadily denies to exist, until he is enlightened by the Holy Ghost. But the preacher has no power to impart this clear spiritual discernment. He cannot arm the eye of the natural man with that magnifying and microscopic power, by which hatred shall be seen to be murder, and lust, adultery, and the least swelling of pride, the sin of Lucifer. He is compelled, by the testimony of the Bible, of the wise and the holy of all time, and of his own consciousness, to tell every unregenerate man that he is no better than his race; that he certainly is no better than the Christian Church which continually confesses and mourns over indwelling sin. The faithful preacher of the word is obliged to insist that there is no radical difference among men, and that the depravity of the man of irreproachable morals but unrenewed heart is as total as was that of the great preacher to the Gentiles,--a man of perfectly irreproachable morals, but who confessed that he was the chief of sinners, and feared lest he should be a cast-away. But the preacher of this unwelcome message has no power to open the blind eye. He cannot endow the self-ignorant and incredulous man before him, with that consciousness of the "plague of the heart" which says "yea" to the most vivid description of human sinfulness, and "amen" to God's heaviest malediction upon it. The preacher's position would be far easier, if there might be a transfer of experience; if some of that bitter painful sense of sin with which the struggling Christian is burdened might flow over into the easy, unvexed, and thoughtless souls of the men of this world. Would that the consciousness upon this subject of sin, of a Paul or a Luther, might deluge that large multitude of men who doubt or deny the doctrine of human depravity. The materials for that consciousness, the items that go to make up that experience, exist as really and as plentifully in your moral state and character, as they do in that of the mourning and self-reproaching Christian who sits by your side,--your devout father, your saintly mother, or sister,--whom you know, and who you know is a better being than you are. Why should they be weary and heavy-laden with a sense of their unworthiness before God, and you go through life indifferent and light-hearted? Are they deluded in respect to the doctrine of human depravity, and are you in the right? Think you that the deathbed and the day of judgment will prove this to be the fact? No! if you shall ever know anything of the Christian struggle with innate corruption; if you shall ever, in the expressive phrase of Scripture, have your senses exercised as in a gymnasium [1] to discern good and evil, and see yourself with self-abhorrence; your views will harmonize most profoundly and exactly with theirs. And, furthermore, you will not in the process create any _new_ sinfulness. You will merely see the _existing_ depravity of the human heart. You will simply see what _is_,--is now, in your heart, and in all human hearts, and has been from the beginning. But all this is the work of a more powerful and spiritual agency than that of man. The truth may be exhibited with perfect transparency and plainness, the hearer himself may do his utmost to have it penetrate and tell; and yet, there be no vivid and vital consciousness of sin. How often does the serious and alarmed man say to us: "I know it, but I do not _feel_ it." How long and wearily, sometimes, does the anxious man struggle after an inward sense of these spiritual things, without success, until he learns that an inward sense, an experimental consciousness, respecting religious truth, is as purely a gift and product of God the Spirit as the breath of life in his nostrils. Considering, then, the natural apathy of man respecting the sin that is in his own heart, and the exceeding blindness of his mental vision, even when his attention has been directed to it, is it not perfectly plain that there must be the exertion of a Divine agency, in order that he may pass through even the first and lowest stages of the religious experience? In view of the subject, as thus far unfolded, we remark: 1. First, that it is the duty of every one, _to take the facts in respect to man's character as he finds them_. Nothing is gained, in any province of human thought or action, by disputing actual verities. They are stubborn things, and will not yield to the wishes and prejudices of the natural heart. This is especially true in regard to the facts in man's moral and religious condition. The testimony of Revelation is explicit, that "the carnal mind is enmity against God, for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be;" and also, that "the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit, neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned." According to this Biblical statement, there is corruption and blindness together. The human heart is at once sinful, and ignorant that it is so. It is, therefore, the very worst form of evil; a fatal disease unknown to the patient, and accompanied with the belief that there is perfect health; sin and guilt without any just and proper sense of it. This is the testimony, and the assertion, of that Being who needs not that any should testify to Him of man, for he knows what is in man. And this is the testimony, also, of every mind that has attained a profound self-knowledge. For it is indisputable, that in proportion as a man is introspective, and accustoms himself to the scrutiny of his motives and feelings, he discovers that "the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint." It is, therefore, the duty and wisdom of every one to set to his seal that God is true,--to have this as his motto. Though, as yet, he is destitute of a clear conviction of sin, and a godly sorrow for it, still he should _presume_ the fact of human depravity. Good men in every age have found it to be a fact, and the infallible Word of God declares that it is a fact. What, then, is gained, by proposing another than the Biblical theory of human nature? Is the evil removed by denying its existence? Will the mere calling men good at heart, and by nature, make them such? "Who can hold a fire in his hand, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow, By thinking on fantastic summer heat?"[2] 2. In the second place, we remark that it is the duty of every one, _not to be discouraged by these facts and truths relative to the moral condition of man._ For, one fact conducts to the next one. One truth prepares for a second. If it is a solemn and sad fact that men are sinners, and blind and dead in their trespasses and sin, it is also a cheering fact that the Holy Spirit can enlighten the darkest understanding, and enliven the most torpid and indifferent soul; and it is a still further, and most encouraging truth and fact, that the Holy Spirit is given to those who ask for it, with more readiness than a father gives bread to his hungry child. Here, then, we have the fact of sin, and of blindness and apathy in sin; the fact of a mighty power in God to convince of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment; and the blessed fact that this power is accessible to prayer. Let us put these three facts together, all of them, and act accordingly. Then we shall be taught by the Spirit, and shall come to a salutary consciousness of sin; and then shall be verified in our own experience the words of God: "I dwell in the high and holy place, and with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones." [Footnote 1: [Greek: Ta aisthaeria gegurasmena.] Heb. v. 14.] [Footnote 2: SHAKSPEARE: Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.] THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. [*continued] Luke xi. 13.--"If ye, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children; how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him." In expounding the doctrine of these words, in the preceding discourse, the argument for the necessity of Divine influences had reference to the more general aspects of man's character and condition. We were concerned with the origin of seriousness in view of a future life, and the production of a sense of moral corruption and unfitness to enter eternity. We have now to consider the work of the Spirit, in its relations, first, to that more distinct sense of sin which is denominated the consciousness of _guilt_, and secondly, to that saving act of _faith_ by which the atonement of Christ is appropriated by the soul. I. Sin is not man's misfortune, but his fault; and any view that falls short of this fact is radically defective. Sin not only brings a corruption and bondage, but also a condemnation and penalty, upon the self-will that originates it. Sin not only renders man unfit for rewards, font also deserving of punishment. As one who has disobeyed law of his own determination, he is liable not merely to the negative loss of blessings, but also to the positive infliction of retribution. It is not enough that a transgressor be merely let alone; he must be taken in hand and punished. He is not simply a diseased man; he is a criminal. His sin, therefore, requires not a removal merely, but also an _expiation_. This relation and reference of transgression to law and justice is a fundamental one; and yet it is very liable to be overlooked, or at least to be inadequately apprehended. The sense of _ill-desert_ is too apt to be confused and shallow, in the human soul. Man is comparatively ready to acknowledge the misery of sin, while he is slow to confess the guilt of it. When the word of God asserts he is poor, and blind, and wretched, he is comparatively forward to assent; but when, in addition, it asserts that he deserves to be punished everlastingly, he reluctates. Mankind are willing to acknowledge their wretchedness, and be pitied; but they are not willing to acknowledge their guiltiness, and stand condemned before law. And yet, guilt is the very essence of sin. Extinguish the criminality, and you extinguish the inmost core and heart of moral evil. We may have felt that sin is bondage, that it is inward dissension and disharmony, that it takes away the true dignity of our nature, but if we have not also felt that it is _iniquity_ and merits penalty, we have not become conscious of its most essential quality. It is not enough that we come before God, saying: "I am wretched in my soul; I am weary of my bondage; I long for deliverance." We must also say, as we look up into that holy Eye: "I am guilty; O my God I deserve thy judgments." In brief, the human mind must recognize all the Divine attributes. The entire Divine character, in both its justice and its love, must rise full-orbed before the soul, when thus seeking salvation. It is not enough, that we ask God to free us from disquietude, and give us repose. Before we do this, and that we may do it successfully, we must employ the language of David, while under the stings of guilt: "O Lord rebuke me not in thy wrath: neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure. Be merciful unto me, O God be merciful unto me." What is needed is, more consideration of sin in its objective, and less in its subjective relations; more sense of it in its reference to the being and attributes of God, and less sense of it in its reference to our own happiness or misery, or even to the harmony of our own powers and faculties. The adorable being and attributes of God are of more importance than any human soul, immortal though it be; and what is required in the religious experience is, more anxiety lest the Divine glory should be tarnished, and less fear that a worm of the dust be made miserable by his transgressions. And whatever may be our theory of the matter, "to this complexion must we come at last," even in order to our own peace of mind. We must lose our life, in order to find it. Even in order to our own inward repose of conscience and of heart, there must come a point and period in our mental history, when we do actually sink self out of sight, and think of sin in its relation to the character and government of the great and holy God,--when we do see it to be _guilt_, as well as corruption. For guilt is a distinct, and a distinguishable quality. It is a thing by itself, like the Platonic idea of Beauty.[1] It is sin stripped of its accompaniments,--the restlessness, the dissatisfaction, and the unhappiness which it produces,--and perceived in its pure odiousness and ill-desert. And when thus seen, it does not permit the mind to think of any thing but the righteous law, and the Divine character. In the hour of thorough conviction, the sinful spirit is lost in the feeling of guiltiness: wholly engrossed in the reflection that it has incurred the condemnation of the Best Being in the universe. It is in distress, not because an Almighty Being can make it miserable but, because a Holy and Good Being has _reason_ to be displeased with it. When it gives utterance to its emotion, it says to its Sovereign and its Judge: "I am in anguish, more because Thou the Holy and the Good art unreconciled with me, than because Thou the Omnipotent canst punish me forever. I refuse not to The punished; I deserve the inflictions of Thy justice; only _forgive_, and Thou mayest do what Thou wilt unto me." A soul that is truly penitent has no desire to escape penalty, at the expense of principle and law. It says with David: "Thou desirest not sacrifice;" such atonement as I can make is inadequate; "else would I give it." It expresses its approbation of the pure justice of God, in the language of the gentlest and sweetest of Mystics: "Thou hast no lightnings, O Thou Just! Or I their force should know; And if Thou strike me into dust, My soul approves the blow. The heart that values less its ease, Than it adores Thy ways; In Thine avenging anger, sees A subject of its praise. Pleased I could lie, concealed and lost, In shades of central night; Not to avoid Thy wrath, Thou know'st, But lest I grieve Thy sight. Smite me, O Thou whom I provoke! And I will love Thee still; The well deserved and righteous stroke Shall please me, though it kill."[2] Now, it is only when the human spirit is under the illuminating, and discriminating influences of the Holy Ghost, that it possesses this pure and genuine sense of guilt. Worldly losses, trials, warnings by God's providence, may rouse the sinner, and make him solemn; but unless the Spirit of Grace enters his heart he does not feel that he is ill-deserving. He is sad and fearful, respecting the future life, and perhaps supposes that this state of mind is one of true conviction, and wonders that it does not end in conversion, and the joy of pardon. But if he would examine it, he would discover that it is full of the lust of self. He would find that he is merely unhappy, and restless, and afraid to die. If he should examine the workings of his heart, he would discover that they are only another form of self-love; that instead of being anxious about self in the present world, he has become anxious about self in the future world; that instead of looking out for his happiness here, he has begun to look out for it hereafter; that in fact he has merely transferred sin, from time and its relations, to eternity and its relations. Such sorrow as this needs to be sorrowed for, and such repentance as this needs to be repented of. Such conviction as this needs to be laid open, and have its defect shown. After a course of wrongdoing, it is not sufficient for man to come before the Holy One, making mention of his wretchedness, and desire for happiness, but making no mention of his culpability, and desert of righteous and holy judgments. It is not enough for the criminal to plead for life, however earnestly, while he avoids the acknowledgment that death is his just due. For silence in such a connection as this, is _denial_. The impenitent thief upon the cross was clamorous for life and happiness, saying, "If thou be the Christ, save thyself and us." He said nothing concerning the crime that had brought him to a malefactor's death, and thereby showed that it did not weigh heavy upon his conscience. But the real penitent rebuked him, saying: "Dost thou not fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds." And then followed that meek and broken-hearted supplication: "Lord remember me," which drew forth the world-renowned answer: "This day shalt thou be with me in paradise." In the fact, then, that man's experience of sin is so liable to be defective upon the side of guilt, we find another necessity for the teaching of the Holy Spirit; for a spiritual agency that cannot be deceived, which pierces to the dividing asunder of the soul and spirit, and is a discerner of the real intent and feeling of the heart. II. In the second place, man needs the influences of the Holy Spirit, in order that _he may actually appropriate Christ's atonement for sin_. The feeling of ill-desert, of which we have spoken, requires an expiation, in order to its extinction, precisely as the burning sensation of thirst needs the cup of cold water, in order that it may be allayed, the sense of guilt is awakened in its pure and genuine form, by the Holy Spirit's operation, the soul _craves_ the atonement,--it _wants_ the dying Lamb of God. We often speak of a believer's longings after purity, after peace, after joy. There is an appetency for them. In like manner, there is in the illuminated and guilt-smitten conscience an appetency for the piacular work of Christ, as that which alone can give it pacification. Contemplated from this point of view, there is not a more rational doctrine within the whole Christian system, than that of the Atonement. Anything that ministers to a distinct and legitimate craving in man is reasonable, and necessary. That theorist, therefore, who would evince the unreasonableness of the atoning work of the Redeemer, must first evince the unreasonableness of the consciousness of guilt, and of the judicial craving of the conscience. He must show the groundlessness of that fundamental and organic feeling which imparts such a blood-red color to all the religions of the globe; be they Pagan, Jewish, or Christian. Whenever, therefore, this sensation of ill-desert is elicited, and the soul feels consciously criminal before the Everlasting Judge, the difficulties that beset the doctrine of the Cross all vanish in the _craving_, in the _appetency_, of the conscience, for acquittal through the substituted sufferings of the Son of God. He who has been taught by the Spirit respecting the iniquity of sin, and views it in its relations to the Divine holiness, has no wish to be pardoned at the expense of justice. His conscience is now jealous for the majesty of God, and the dignity of His government. He now experimentally understands that great truth which has its foundation in the nature of guilt, and consequently in the method of Redemption,--the great ethical truth, that after an accountable agent has stained himself with crime, there is from the necessity of the case no remission without the satisfaction of law. But it is one thing to acknowledge this in theory, and even to feel the need of Christ's atonement, and still another thing to _really appropriate_ it. Unbelief and despair have great power over a guilt-stricken mind; and were it not for that Spirit who "takes of the things of Christ and shows them to the soul," sinful man would in every instance succumb under their awful paralysis. For, if the truth and Spirit of God should merely convince the sinner of his guilt, but never apply the atoning blood of the Redeemer, hell would be in him and he would be in hell. If God, coming forth as He justly might only in His judicial character, should confine Himself to a convicting operation in the conscience,--should make the transgressor feel his guilt, and then leave him to the feeling and with the feeling, forevermore,--this would be eternal death. And if, as any man shall lie down upon his death-bed, he shall find that owing to his past quenching of the Spirit the illuminating energy of God is searching him, and revealing him to himself, but does not assist him to look up to the Saviour of sinners; and if, in the day of judgment, as he draws near the bar of an eternal doom, he shall discover that the sense of guilt grows deeper and deeper, while the atoning blood is not applied,--if this shall be the experience of any one upon his death-bed, and in the day of judgment, will he need to be told what he is and whither he is going? Now it is with reference to these disclosures that come in like a deluge upon him, that man needs the aids and operation of the Holy Spirit. Ordinarily, nearly the whole of his guilt is latent within him. He is, commonly, undisturbed by conscience; but it would be a fatal error to infer that therefore he has a clear and innocent conscience. There is a vast amount of undeveloped guilt within every impenitent soul. It is slumbering there, as surely as magnetism is in the magnet, and the electric fluid is in the piled-up thunder-cloud. For there are moments when the sinful soul feels this hidden criminality, as there are moments when the magnet shows its power, and the thunder-cloud darts its nimble and forked lightnings. Else, why do these pangs and fears shoot and flash through it, every now and then? Why does the drowning man instinctively ask for God's mercy? Were his conscience pure and clear from guilt, like that of the angel or the seraph,--were there no latent crime within him,--he would sink into the unfathomed depths of the sea, without the thought of such a cry. When the traveller in South America sees the smoke and flame of the volcano, here and there, as he passes along, he is justified in inferring that a vast central fire is burning beneath the whole region. In like manner, when man discovers, as he watches the phenomena of his conscience, that guilt every now and then emerges like a flash of flame into consciousness, filling him with fear and distress,--when he finds that he has no security against this invasion, but that in an hour when he thinks not, and commonly when he is weakest and faintest, in his moments of danger or death, it stings him and wounds him, he is justified in inferring, and he must infer, that the deep places of his spirit, the whole _potentiality_ of his soul is full of crime. Now, in no condition of the soul is there greater need of the agency of the Comforter (O well named the Comforter), than when all this latency is suddenly manifested to a man. When this deluge of discovery comes in, all the billows of doubt, fear, terror, and despair roll over the soul, and it sinks in the deep waters. The sense of guilt,--that awful guilt, which the man has carried about with him for many long years, and which he has trifled with,--now proves too great for him to control. It seizes him like a strong-armed man. If he could only believe that the blood of the Lamb of God expiates all this crime which is so appalling to his mind, he would be at peace instantaneously. But he is unable to believe this. His sin, which heretofore looked too small to be noticed, now appears too great to be forgiven. Other men may be pardoned, but not he. He _despairs_ of mercy; and if he should be left to the natural workings of his own mind; if he should not be taught and assisted by the Holy Ghost, in this critical moment, to behold the Lamb of God; he would despair forever. For this sense of ill-desert, this fearful looking-for of judgment and fiery indignation, with which he is wrestling, is organic to the conscience, and the human will has no more power over it than it has over the sympathetic nerve. Only as he is taught by the Divine Spirit, is he able with perfect calmness to look up from this brink of despair, and say: "There is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus. The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. Therefore, being justified by faith we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day." In view of the truths which we have now considered, it is worthy of observation: 1. First, that _the Holy Spirit constitutes the tie, and bond of connection, between man and God_. The third Person in the Godhead is very often regarded as more distant from the human soul, than either the Father or the Son. In the history of the doctrine of the Trinity, the definition of the Holy Spirit, and the discrimination of His relations in the economy of the Godhead, was not settled until after the doctrine of the first and second Persons had been established. Something analogous to this appears in the individual experience. God the Father and God the Son are more in the thoughts of many believers, than God the Holy Ghost. And yet, we have seen that in the economy of Redemption, and from the very nature of the case, the soul is brought as close to the Spirit, as to the Father and Son. Nay, it is only through the inward operations of the former, that the latter are made real to the heart and mind of man. Not until the third Person enlightens, are the second and first Persons beheld. "No man," says St. Paul, "can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost." The sinful soul is entirely dependent upon the Divine Spirit, and from first to last it is in most intimate communication with Him during the process of salvation. It is enlightened by His influence; it is enlivened by Him; it is empowered by Him to the act of faith in Christ's Person and Work; it is supported and assisted by Him, in every step of the Christian race; it is comforted by Him in all trials and tribulations; and, lastly, it is perfected in holiness, and fitted for the immediate presence of God, by Him. Certainly, then, the believer should have as full faith in the distinct personality, and immediate efficiency, of the third Person, as he has in that of the first and second. His most affectionate feeling should centre upon that Blessed Agent, through whom he appropriates the blessings that have been provided for sinners by the Father and Son, and without whose influence the Father would have planned the Redemptive scheme, and the Son have executed it, in vain. 2. In the second place, it is deserving of very careful notice that _the influences of the Holy Spirit may be obtained by asking for them_. This is the only condition to be complied with. And this gift, furthermore, is peculiar, in that it is _invariably_ bestowed whenever it is sincerely implored. There are other gifts of God which may be asked for with deep and agonizing desire, and it is not certain that they will be granted. This is the case with temporal blessings. A sick man may turn his face to the wall, with Hezekiah, and pray in the bitterness of his soul, for the prolongation of his life, and yet not obtain the answer which Hezekiah received. But no man ever supplicated in the earnestness of his soul for the influences of the Holy Spirit, and was ultimately refused. For this is a gift which it is always safe to grant. It involves a spiritual and everlasting good. It is the gift of righteousness, of the fear and love of God in the heart. There is no danger in such a bestowment. It inevitably promotes the glory of God. Hence our Lord, after bidding his hearers to "ask," to "seek," and to "knock," adds, as the encouraging reason why they should do so: "For, _every one_ that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh, [always] findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall [certainly] be opened." This is a reason that cannot be assigned in the instance of other prayers. Our Lord commands his disciples to pray for their daily bread; and we know that the children of God do generally find their wants supplied. Still, it would not be true that _every one_ who in the sincerity of his soul has asked for daily bread has received it. The children of God have sometimes died of hunger. But no soul that has ever hungered for the bread of heaven, and supplicated for it, has been sent empty away. Nay more: Whoever finds it in his heart to ask for the Holy Spirit may know, from this very fact, that the Holy Spirit has anticipated him, and has prompted the very prayer itself. And think you that God will not grant a request which He himself has inspired? And therefore, again, it is, that _every one_ who asks invariably receives. 3. The third remark suggested by the subject we have been considering is, that _it is exceedingly hazardous to resist Divine influences_. "Quench not the Spirit" is one of the most imperative of the Apostolic injunctions. Our Lord, after saying that a word spoken against Himself is pardonable, adds that he that blasphemes against the Holy Ghost shall never be forgiven, neither in this world nor in the world to come. The New Testament surrounds the subject of Divine influences with very great solemnity. It represents the resisting of the Holy Ghost to be as heinous, and dangerous, as the trampling upon Christ's blood. There is a reason for this. We have seen that in this operation upon the mind and heart, God comes as near, and as close to man, as it is possible for Him to come. Now to grieve or oppose such a merciful, and such an _inward_ agency as this, is to offer the highest possible affront to the majesty and the mercy of God. It is a great sin to slight the gifts of Divine providence,--to misuse health, strength, wealth, talents. It is a deep sin to contemn the truths of Divine Revelation, by which the soul is made wise unto eternal life. It is a fearful sin to despise the claims of God the Father, and God the Son. But it is a transcendent sin to resist and beat back, _after it has been given_, that mysterious, that holy, that immediately Divine influence, by which alone the heart of stone can be made the heart of flesh. For, it indicates something more than the ordinary carelessness of a sinner. It evinces a determined _obstinacy_ in sin,--nay, a Satanic opposition to God and goodness. It is of such a guilt as this, that the apostle John remarks: "There is a sin unto death; I do not say that one should pray for it."[3] Again, it is exceedingly hazardous to resist Divine influences, because they depend wholly upon the good pleasure of God, and not at all upon any established and uniform law. We must not, for a moment, suppose that the operations of the Holy Spirit upon the human soul are like those of the forces of nature upon the molecules of matter. They are not uniform and unintermittent, like gravitation, and chemical affinity. We may avail ourselves of the powers of nature at any moment, because they are steadily operative by an established law. They are laboring incessantly, and we may enter into their labors at any instant we please. But it is not so with supernatural and gracious influences. God's awakening and renewing power does not operate with the uniformity of those blind natural laws which He has impressed upon the dull clod beneath our feet. God is not one of the forces of nature. He is a Person and a Sovereign. His special and highest action upon the human soul is not uniform. His Spirit, He expressly teaches us, does not always strive with man. It is a wind that bloweth when and where it listeth. For this reason, it is dangerous to the religious interests of the soul, in the highest degree, to go counter to any impulses of the Spirit, however slight, or to neglect any of His admonitions, however gentle. If God in mercy has once come in upon a thoughtless mind, and wakened it to eternal realities; if He has enlightened it to perceive the things that make for its peace; and that mind slights this merciful interference, and stifles down these inward teachings, then God withdraws, and whether He will ever return again to that soul depends upon His mere sovereign volition. He has bound himself by no promise to do so. He has established no uniform law of operation, in the case. It is true that He is very pitiful and of tender mercy, and waits and bears long with the sinner; and it is also true, that He is terribly severe and just, when He thinks it proper to be so, and says to those who have despised His Spirit: "Because I have called and ye refused, and have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded, I will laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear cometh." Let no one say: "God has promised to bestow the Holy Ghost to every one who asks: I will ask at some future time." To "ask" for the Holy Spirit implies some already existing desire that He would enter the mind and convince of sin, and convert to God. It implies some _craving_, some _yearning_, for Divine influences; and this implies some measure of such influence already bestowed. Man asks for the Holy Spirit, only as he is moved by the Holy Spirit. The Divine is ever prevenient to the human. Suppose now, that a man resists these influences when they are _already_ at work within him, and says: "I will seek them at a more convenient season." Think you, that when that convenient season comes round,--when life is waning, and the world is receding, and the eternal gulf is yawning,--think you that that man who has already resisted grace can make his own heart to yearn for it, and his soul to crave it? Do men at such times find that sincere desires, and longings, and aspirations, come at their beck? Can a man say, with any prospect of success: "I will now quench out this seriousness which the Spirit of God has produced in my mind, and will bring it up again ten years hence. I will stifle this drawing of the Eternal Father of my soul which I now feel at the roots of my being, and it shall re-appear at a future day." No! While it is true that any one who "asks," who really _wants_ a spiritual blessing, will obtain it, it is equally true that a man may have no heart to ask,--may have no desire, no yearning, no aspiration at all, and be unable to produce one. In this case there is no promise. Whosoever _thirsts_, and _only_ he who thirsts, can obtain the water of life. Cherish, therefore, the faintest influences and operations of the Comforter. If He enlightens your conscience so that it reproaches you for sin, seek to have the work go on. Never resist any such convictions, and never attempt to stifle them. If the Holy Spirit urges you to confession of sin before God, yield _instantaneously_ to His urging, and pour out your soul before the All-Merciful. And when He says, "Behold the Lamb of God," look where He points, and be at peace and at rest. The secret of all spiritual success is an immediate and uniform submission to the influences of the Holy Ghost. [Footnote 1: [Greek: _Anto, kath anto, meth anton, monoeides_.]--PLATO: Convivium, p. 247, Ed. Bipont.] [Footnote 2: Guyon: translated by Cowper. is expressed by VAUGHAN in Works III. 85.--A similar thought "The Eclipse." "Thy anger I could kiss, and will; But O Thy grief, Thy grief doth kill."] [Footnote 3: The sin against the Holy Ghost is unpardonable, not because there is a grade of guilt in it too scarlet to be washed white by Christ's blood of atonement but, because it implies a total quenching of that operation of the third Person of the Trinity which is the only power adequate to the extirpation of sin from the human soul. The sin against the Holy Ghost is tantamount, therefore, to _everlasting_ sin. And it is noteworthy, that in Mark iii. 29 the reading [Greek: _amartaemartos_], instead of [Greek: kriseos], is supported by a majority of the oldest manuscripts and versions, and is adopted by Lachmann, Tischendorf, and Tregelles. "He that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost.... is in danger of eternal _sin_."] THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. HEBREWS vii. 19.--"For the law made nothing perfect, but the bringing in of a better hope did; by the which we draw nigh to God." It is the aim of the Epistle to the Hebrews, to teach the insufficiency of the Jewish Dispensation to save the human race from the wrath of God and the power of sin, and the all-sufficiency of the Gospel Dispensation to do this. Hence, the writer of this Epistle endeavors with special effort to make the Hebrews feel the weakness of their old and much esteemed religion, and to show them that the only benefit which God intended by its establishment was, to point men to the perfect and final religion of the Gospel. This he does, by examining the parts of the Old Economy. In the first place, the _sacrifices_ under the Mosaic law were not designed to extinguish the sense of guilt,--"for it is not possible that the blood of bulls and goats should take away sin,"--but were intended merely to awaken the sense of guilt, and thereby to lead the Jew to look to that mercy of God which at a future day was to be exhibited in the sacrifice of his eternal Son. The Jewish _priesthood_, again, standing between the sinner and God, were not able to avert the Divine displeasure,--for as sinners they were themselves exposed to it. They could only typify, and direct the guilty to, the great High Priest, the Messiah, whom God's mercy would send in the fulness of time. Lastly, the moral _law_, proclaimed amidst the thunderings and lightnings of Sinai, had no power to secure obedience, but only a fearful power to produce the consciousness of disobedience, and of exposure to a death far more awful than that threatened against the man who should touch the burning mountain. It was, thus, the design of God, by this legal and preparatory dispensation, to disclose to man his ruined and helpless condition, and his need of looking to Him for everything that pertains to redemption. And he did it, by so arranging the dispensation that the Jew might, as it were, make the trial and see if he could be his own Redeemer. He instituted a long and burdensome round of observances, by means of which the Jew might, if possible, extinguish the remorse of his conscience, and produce the peace of God in his soul. God seems by the sacrifices under the law, and the many and costly offerings which the Jew was commanded to bring into the temple of the Lord, to have virtually said to him: "Thou art guilty, and My wrath righteously abides within thy conscience,--yet, do what thou canst to free thyself from it; free thyself from it if thou canst; bring an offering and come before Me. But when thou hast found that thy conscience still remains perturbed and unpacified, and thy heart still continues corrupt and sinful, then look away from thy agency and thy offering, to My clemency and My offering,--trust not in these finite sacrifices of the lamb and the goat, but let them merely remind thee of the infinite sacrifice which in the fulness of time I will provide for the sin of the world,--and thy peace shall be as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea." But the proud and legal spirit of the Jew blinded him, and he did not perceive the true meaning and intent of his national religion. He made it an end, instead of a mere means to an end. Hence, it became a mechanical round of observances, kept up by custom, and eventually lost the power, which it had in the earlier and better ages of the Jewish commonwealth, of awakening the feeling of guilt and the sense of the need of a Redeemer. Thus, in the days of our Saviour's appearance upon the earth, the chosen guardians of this religion, which was intended to make men humble, and feel their personal ill-desert and need of mercy, had become self-satisfied and self-righteous. A religion designed to prompt the utterance of the greatest of its prophets: "Woe is me! I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips," now prompted the utterance of the Pharisee: "I thank Thee that I am not as other men are." The Jew, in the times of our Saviour and his Apostles, had thus entirely mistaken the nature and purpose of the Old dispensation, and hence was the most bitter opponent of the New. He rested in the formal and ceremonial sacrifice of bulls and goats, and therefore counted the blood of the Son of God an unholy thing. He thought to appear before Him in whose sight the heavens are not clean, clothed in his own righteousness, and hence despised the righteousness of Christ. In reality, he appealed to the justice of God, and therefore rejected the religion of mercy. But, this spirit is not confined to the Jew. It pervades the human race. Man is naturally a legalist. He desires to be justified by his own character and his own works, and reluctates at the thought of being accepted upon the ground of another's merits. This Judaistic spirit is seen wherever there is none of the publican's feeling when he said, "God be merciful to me a sinner." All confidence in personal virtue, all appeals to civil integrity, all attendance upon the ordinances of the Christian religion without the exercise of the Christian's penitence and faith, is, in reality; an exhibition of that same legal unevangelic spirit which in its extreme form inflated the Pharisee, and led him to tithe mint anise and cummin. Man's so general rejection of the Son of God as suffering the just for the unjust, as the manifestation of the Divine clemency towards a criminal, is a sign either that he is insensible of his guilt, or else that being somewhat conscious of it he thinks to cancel it himself. Still, think and act as men may, the method of God in the Gospel is the only method. Other foundation can no man lay than is laid. For it rests upon stubborn facts, and inexorable principles. _God_ knows that however anxiously a transgressor may strive to pacify his conscience, and prepare it for the judgment-day, its deep remorse can be removed only by the blood of incarnate Deity; that however sedulously he may attempt to obey the law, he will utterly fail, unless he is inwardly renewed and strengthened by the Holy Ghost. _He_ knows that mere bare law can make no sinner perfect again, but that only the bringing in of a "better hope" can,--a hope by the which we draw nigh to God. The text leads us to inquire: _Why cannot the moral law make fallen man perfect_? Or, in other words: _Why cannot the ten commandments save a sinner_? That we may answer this question, we must first understand what is meant by a perfect man. It is one in whom there is no defect or fault of any kind,--one, therefore, who has no perturbation in his conscience, and no sin in his heart. It is a man who is entirely at peace with himself, and with God, and whose affections are in perfect conformity with the Divine law. But fallen man, man as we find him universally, is characterized by both a remorseful conscience and an evil heart. His conscience distresses him, not indeed uniformly and constantly but, in the great emergencies of his life,--in the hour of sickness, danger, death,--and his heart is selfish and corrupt continually. He lacks perfection, therefore, in two particulars; first, in respect to acquittal at the bar of justice, and secondly, in respect to inward purity. That, therefore, which proposes to make him perfect again, must quiet the sense of guilt upon valid grounds, and must produce a holy character. If the method fails in either of these two respects, it fails altogether in making a perfect man. But how can the moral law, or the ceremonial law, or both united, produce within the human soul the cheerful, liberating, sense of acquittal, and reconciliation with God's justice? Why, the very function and office-work of law, in all its forms, is to condemn and terrify the transgressor; how then can it calm and soothe him? Or, is there anything in the performance of duty,--in the act of obeying law,--that is adapted to produce this result, by taking away guilt? Suppose that a murderer could and should perform a perfectly holy act, would it be any relief to his anguished conscience, if he should offer it as an oblation to Eternal Justice for the sin that is past? if he should plead it as an offset for having killed a man? When we ourselves review the past, and see that we have not kept the law up to the present point in our lives, is the gnawing of the worm to be stopped, by resolving to keep it, and actually keeping it from this point? Can such a use of the law as this is,--can the performance of good works, imaginary or real ones, imperfect or perfect ones,--discharge the office of an _atonement_, and so make us perfect in the forum of conscience, and fill us with a deep and lasting sense of reconciliation with the offended majesty and justice of God? Plainly not. For there is nothing compensatory, nothing cancelling, nothing of the nature of a satisfaction of justice, in the best obedience that was ever rendered to moral law, by saint, angel, or seraph. _Because the creature owes the whole_. He is obligated from the very first instant of his existence, onward and evermore, to love God supremely, and to obey him perfectly in every act and element of his being. Therefore, the perfectly obedient saint, angel, and seraph must each say: "I am an unprofitable servant, I have done only that which it was my duty to do; I can make no amends for past failures; I can do no work that is meritorious and atoning." Obedience to law, then, by a creature, and still less by a sinner, can never atone for the sins that are past; can never make the guilty perfect "in things pertaining to conscience." And if a man, in this indirect and roundabout manner, neglects the provisions of the gospel, neglects the oblation of Jesus Christ, and betakes himself to the discharge of his own duty as a substitute therefor, he only finds that the flame burns hotter, and the fang of the worm is sharper. If he looks to the moral law in any form, and by any method, that he may get quit of his remorse and his fears of judgment, the feeling of unreconciliation with justice, and the fearful looking-for of judgment is only made more vivid and deep. Whoever attempts the discharge of duties _for the purpose of atoning for his sins_ takes a direct method of increasing the pains and perturbations which he seeks to remove. The more he thinks of law, and the more he endeavors to obey it for the purpose of purchasing the pardon of past transgression, the more wretched does he become. Look into the lacerated conscience of Martin Luther before he found the Cross, examine the anxiety and gloom of Chalmers before he saw the Lamb of God, for proof that this is so. These men, at first, were most earnest in their use of the law in order to re-instate themselves in right relations with God's justice. But the more they toiled in this direction, the less they succeeded. Burning with inward anguish, and with God's arrows sticking fast in him, shall the transgressor get relief from the attribute of Divine justice, and the qualities of law? Shall the ten commandments of Sinai, in any of their forms or uses, send a cooling and calming virtue through the hot conscience? With these kindling flashes in his guilt-stricken spirit, shall he run into the very identical fire that kindled them? Shall he try to quench them in that "Tophet which is ordained of old; which is made deep and large; the pile of which is fire and much wood, and the breath of the Lord like a stream of brimstone doth kindle it?" And yet such is, in reality, the attempt of every man who, upon being convicted in his conscience of guilt before God, endeavors to attain peace by resolutions to alter his course of conduct, and strenuous endeavors to obey the commands of God,--in short by relying upon the law in any form, as a means of reconciliation. Such is the suicidal effort of every man who substitutes the law for the gospel, and expects to produce within himself the everlasting peace of God, by anything short of the atonement of God. Let us fix it, then, as a fact, that the feeling of culpability and unreconciliation can never be removed, so long as we do not look entirely away from our own character and works to the mere pure mercy of God in the blood of Christ. The transgressor can never atone for crime by anything that he can suffer, or anything that he can do. He can never establish a ground of justification, a reason why he should be forgiven, by his tears, or his prayers, or his acts. Neither the law, nor his attempts to obey the law, can re-instate him in his original relations to justice, and make him perfect again in respect to his conscience. The ten commandments can never silence his inward misgivings, and his moral fears; for they are given for the very purpose of producing misgivings, and causing fears. "The law worketh wrath." And if this truth and fact be clearly perceived, and boldly acknowledged to his own mind, it will cut him off from all these legal devices and attempts, and will shut him up to the Divine mercy and the Divine promise in Christ, where alone he is safe. We have thus seen that one of the two things necessary in order that apostate man may become perfect again,--viz., the pacification of his conscience,--cannot be obtained in and by the law, in any of its forms or uses. Let us now examine the other thing necessary in order to human perfection, and see what the law can do towards it. The other requisite, in order that fallen man may become perfect again, is a holy heart and will. Can the moral law originate this? That we may rightly answer the question, let us remember that a holy will is one that keeps the law of God spontaneously and that a perfect heart is one that sends forth holy affections and pure thoughts as naturally as the sinful heart sends forth unholy affections and impure thoughts. A holy will, like an evil will, is a wonderful and wonderfully fertile power. It does not consist in an ability to make a few or many separate resolutions of obedience to the divine law, but in being itself one great inclination and determination continually and mightily going forth. A holy will, therefore, is one that _from its very nature and spontaneity_ seeks God, and the glory of God. It does not even need to make a specific resolution to obey; any more than an affectionate child needs to resolve to obey its father. In like manner, a perfect and holy heart is a far more profound and capacious thing than men who have never seriously tried to obtain it deem it to foe. It does not consist in the possession of a few or many holy thoughts mixed with some sinful ones, or in having a few or many holy desires together with some corrupt ones. A perfect heart is one undivided agency, and does not produce, as the imperfectly sanctified heart of the Christian does, fruits of holiness and fruits of sin, holy thoughts and unholy thoughts. It is itself a root and centre of holiness, and _nothing_ but goodness springs up from it. The angels of God are totally holy. Their wills are unceasingly going forth towards Him with ease and delight; their hearts are unintermittently gushing out emotions of love, and feelings of adoration, and thoughts of reverence, and therefore the song that they sing is unceasing, and the smoke of their incense ascendeth forever and ever. Such is the holy will, and the perfect heart, which fallen man must obtain in order to be fit for heaven. To this complexion must he come at last. And now we ask: Can the law generate all this excellence within the human soul? In order to answer this question, we must consider the nature of law, and the manner of its operation. The law, as antithetic to the gospel, and as the word is employed in the text, is in its nature mandatory and minatory. It commands, and it threatens. This is the style of its operation. Can a perfect heart be originated in a sinner by these two methods? Does the stern behest, "Do this or die," secure his willing and joyful obedience? On the contrary, the very fact that the law of God comes up before him coupled thus with a _threatening_ evinces that his aversion and hostility are most intense. As the Apostle says, "The law is not made for a righteous man; but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and for sinners." Were man, like the angels on high, sweetly obedient to the Divine will, there would be no arming of law with terror, no proclamation of ten commandments amidst thunderings and lightnings. He would be a law unto himself, as all the heavenly host are,--the law working impulsively within him by its own exceeding lawfulness and beauty. The very fact that God, in the instance of man, is compelled to emphasize the _penalty_ along with the statute,--to say, "Keep my commandments _upon pain of eternal death_,"--is proof conclusive that man is a rebel, and intensely so. And now what is the effect of this combination of command and threatening upon the agent? Is he moulded by it? Does it congenially sway and incline him? On the contrary, is he not excited to opposition by it? When the commandment "_comes_," loaded down with menace and damnation, does not sin "revive," as the Apostle affirms?[1] Arrest the transgressor in the very act of disobedience, and ring in his ears the "Thou shalt _not_" of the decalogue, and does he find that the law has the power to alter his inclination, to overcome his carnal mind, and make him perfect in holiness? On the contrary, the more you ply him with the stern command, and the more you emphasize the awful threatening, the more do you make him conscious of inward sin, and awaken his depravity. "The law,"--as St. Paul affirms in a very remarkable text,--"is the _strength_ of sin,[2]" instead of being its destruction. Nay, he had not even ([Greek: te]) known sin, but by the law: for he had not known lust, except the law had said, "Thou shalt not lust." The commandment stimulates instead of extirpating his hostility to the Divine government; and so long as the _mere_ command, and the _mere_ threat,--which, as the hymn tells us, is all the law can do,--are brought to bear, the depravity of the rebellious heart becomes more and more apparent, and more and more intensified. There is no more touching poem in all literature than that one in which the pensive and moral Schiller portrays the struggle of an ingenuous youth who would find the source of moral purification in the moral law; who would seek the power that can transform him, in the mere imperatives of his conscience, and the mere struggling and spasms of his own will. He represents him as endeavoring earnestly and long to feel the force of obligation, and as toiling sedulously to school himself into virtue, by the bare power, by the dead lift, of duty. But the longer he tries, the more he loathes the restraints of law. Virtue, instead of growing lovely to him, becomes more and more severe, austere, and repellant. His life, as the Scripture phrases it, is "under law," and not under love. There is nothing spontaneous, nothing willing, nothing genial in his religion. He does not enjoy religion, but he endures religion. Conscience does not, in the least, renovate his will, but merely checks it, or goads it. He becomes wearied and worn, and conscious that after all his self-schooling he is the same creature at heart, in his disposition and affections, that he was at the commencement of the effort, he cries out, "O Virtue, take back thy crown, and let me sin."[3] The tired and disgusted soul would once more do a _spontaneous_ thing. Was, then, that which is good made death unto this youth, by a _Divine_ arrangement? Is this the _original_ and _necessary_ relation which law sustains to the will and affections of an accountable creature? Must the pure and holy law of God, from the very nature of things, be a weariness and a curse? God forbid. But sin that it might _appear_ sin, working death in the sinner by that which is good,--that sin by the commandment might become, might be seen to be, exceeding sinful. The law is like a chemical test. It eats into sin enough to show what sin is, and there stops. The lunar caustic bites into the dead flesh of the mortified limb; but there is no healing virtue in the lunar caustic. The moral law makes no inward alterations in a sinner. In its own distinctive and proper action upon the heart and will of an apostate being, it is fitted only to elicit and exasperate his existing enmity. It can, therefore, no more be a source of sanctification, than it can be of justification. Of what use, then, is the law to a fallen man?--some one will ask. Why is the commandment enunciated in the Scriptures, and why is the Christian ministry perpetually preaching it to men dead in trespasses and sins? If the law can subdue no man's obstinate will, and can renovate no man's corrupt heart,--if it can make nothing perfect in human character,--then, "wherefore serveth the law?" "It was added because of transgressions,"--says the Apostle in answer to this very question.[4] It is preached and forced home in order to _detect_ sin, but not to remove it; to bring men to a consciousness of the evil of their hearts, but not to change their hearts. "For," continues the Apostle, "if there had been a law given which could have given _life_"--which could produce a transformation of character,--"then verily righteousness should have been by the law," It is not because the stern and threatening commandment can impart spiritual vitality to the sinner, but because it can produce within him the keen vivid sense of spiritual death, that it is enunciated in the word of God, and proclaimed from the Christian pulpit. The Divine law is waved like a flashing sword before the eyes of man, not because it can make him alive but, because it can slay him, that he may then be made alive, not by the law but by the Holy Ghost,--by the Breath that cometh from the four winds and breathes on the slain. It is easy to see, by a moment's reflection, that, from the nature of the case, the moral law cannot be a source of spiritual life and sanctification to a soul that has _lost_ these. For law primarily supposes life, supposes an obedient inclination, and therefore does not produce it. It is not the function of any law to impart that moral force, that right disposition of the heart, by which its command is to be obeyed. The State, for example, enacts a law against murder, but this mere enactment does not, and cannot, produce a benevolent disposition in the citizens of the commonwealth, in case they are destitute of it. How often do we hear the remark, that it is impossible to legislate either morality or religion into the people. When the Supreme Governor first placed man under the obligations and sovereignty of law, He created him in His own image and likeness: endowing him with that holy heart and right inclination which obeys the law of God with ease and delight. God made man upright, and in this state he could and did keep the commands of God perfectly. If, therefore, by any _subsequent action_ upon their part, mankind have gone out of the primary relationship in which they stood to law, and have by their _apostasy_ lost all holy sympathy with it, and all affectionate disposition to obey it, it only remains for the law (not to change along with them, but) to continue immutably the same pure and righteous thing, and to say, "Obey perfectly, and thou shalt live; disobey in a single instance, and thou shalt die." But the text teaches us, that although the law can make no sinful man perfect, either upon the side of justification, or of sanctification, "the bringing in of a better _hope_" can. This hope is the evangelic hope,--the yearning desire, and the humble trust,--to be forgiven through the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ, and to be sanctified by the indwelling power of the Holy Ghost. A simple, but a most powerful thing! Does the law, in its abrupt and terrible operation in my conscience, start out the feeling of guiltiness until I throb with anguish, and moral fear? I hope, I trust, I ask, to be pardoned through the blood of the Eternal Son of God my Redeemer. I will answer all these accusations of law and conscience, by pleading what my Lord has done. Again, does the law search me, and probe me, and elicit me, and reveal me, until I would shrink out of the sight of God and of myself? I hope, I trust, I ask, to be made pure as the angels, spotless as the seraphim, by the transforming grace of the Holy Spirit. This confidence in Christ's Person and Work is the anchor,--an anchor that was never yet wrenched from the clefts of the Rock of Ages, and never will be through the aeons of aeons. By this hope, which goes away from self, and goes away from the law, to Christ's oblation and the Holy Spirit's energy, we do indeed draw very nigh to God,--"heart to heart, spirit to spirit, life to life." 1. The unfolding of this text of Scripture shows, in the first place, the importance of having a _distinct and discriminating conception of law, and especially of its proper function in reference to a sinful being_. Very much is gained when we understand precisely what the moral law, as taught in the Scriptures, and written in our consciences, can do, and cannot do, towards our salvation. It can do nothing positively and efficiently. It cannot extinguish a particle of our guilt, and it cannot purge away a particle of our corruption. Its operation is wholly negative and preparatory. It is merely a schoolmaster to conduct us to Christ. And the more definitely this truth and fact is fixed in our minds, the more intelligently shall we proceed in our use of law and conscience. 2. In the second place, the unfolding of this text shows the importance of _using the law faithfully and fearlessly within its own limits; and in accordance with its proper function_. It is frequently asked what the sinner shall do in the work of salvation. The answer is nigh thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart. Be continually applying the law of God to your personal character and conduct. Keep an active and a searching conscience within your sinful soul. Use the high, broad, and strict commandment of God as an instrumentality by which all ease, and all indifference, in sin shall be banished from the breast. Employ all this apparatus of torture, as perhaps it may seem to you in some sorrowful hours, and break up that moral drowze and lethargy which is ruining so many souls. And then cease this work, the instant you have experimentally found out that the law reaches a limit beyond which it cannot go,--that it forgives none of the sins which it detects, produces no change in the heart whose vileness it reveals, and makes no lost sinner perfect again. Having used the law legitimately, for purposes of illumination and conviction merely, leave it forever as a source of justification and sanctification, and seek these in Christ's atonement, and the Holy Spirit's gracious operation in the heart. Then sin shall not have dominion over you; for you shall not be under law, but under grace. After that _faith_ is come, ye are no longer under a schoolmaster. For ye are then the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus.[5] How simple are the terms of salvation! But then they presuppose this work of the law,--this guilt-smitten conscience, and this wearying sense of bondage to sin. It is easy for a _thirsty_ soul to drink down the draught of cold water. Nothing is simpler, nothing is more grateful to the sensations. But suppose that the soul is satiated, and is not a thirsty one. Then, nothing is more forced and repelling than this same draught. So is it with the provisions of the gospel. Do we feel ourselves to be guilty beings; do we hunger, and do we thirst for the expiation of our sins? Then the blood of Christ is drink indeed, and his flesh is meat with emphasis. But are we at ease and self-contented? Then nothing is more distasteful than the terms of salvation. Christ is a root out of dry ground. And so long as we remain in this unfeeling and torpid state, salvation is an utter impossibility. The seed of the gospel cannot germinate and grow upon a rock. [Footnote 1: Rom. vii. 9-12.] [Footnote 2: 1 Cor. xv. 56.] [Footnote 3: SCHILLER: Der Kampf.] [Footnote 4: Galatians iii. 19.] [Footnote 5: Galatians iii. 25, 26.] SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOD'S PRESENCE. ISAIAH, i. 11.--"Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." These words were at first addressed to the Church of God. The prophet Isaiah begins his prophecy, by calling upon the heavens and the earth to witness the exceeding sinfulness of God's chosen people. "Hear, O heavens, and give ear O earth: for the Lord hath spoken; I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib: but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider." Such ingratitude and sin as this, he naturally supposes would shock the very heavens and earth. Then follows a most vehement and terrible rebuke. The elect people of God are called "Sodom," and "Gomorrah." "Hear the word of the Lord ye rulers of Sodom: give ear unto the law of our God ye people of Gomorrah. Why should ye be stricken, any more? ye will revolt more and more." This outflow of holy displeasure would prepare us to expect an everlasting reprobacy of the rebellious and unfaithful Church, but it is strangely followed by the most yearning and melting entreaty ever addressed by the Most High to the creatures of His footstool: "Come now, and let us reason together, though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." These words have, however, a wider application; and while the unfaithful children of God ought to ponder them long and well, it is of equal importance that "the aliens from the commonwealth of Israel" should reflect upon them, and see their general application to all transgressors, so long as they are under the Gospel dispensation. Let us, then, consider two of the plain lessons taught, in these words of the prophet, to every unpardoned man. I. The text represents God as saying to the transgressor of his law, "Come and let us reason _together_." The first lesson to be learned, consequently, is the duty of examining our moral character and conduct, _along with God_. When a responsible being has made a wrong use of his powers, nothing is more reasonable than that he should call himself to account for this abuse. Nothing, certainly, is more necessary. There can be no amendment for the future, until the past has been cared for. But that this examination may be both thorough and profitable, it must be made _in company with the Searcher of hearts_. For there are always two beings who are concerned with sin; the being who commits it, and the Being against whom it is committed. We sin, indeed, against ourselves; against our own conscience, and against our own best interest. But we sin in a yet higher, and more terrible sense, against Another than ourselves, compared with whose majesty all of our faculties and interests, both in time and eternity, are altogether nothing and vanity. It is not enough, therefore, to refer our sin to the law written on the heart, and there stop. We must ultimately pass beyond conscience itself, to God, and say, "Against _Thee_ have I sinned." It is not the highest expression of the religious feeling, when we say, "How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against my conscience?" He alone has reached the summit of vision who looks beyond all finite limits, however wide and distant, beyond all finite faculties however noble and elevated, and says, "How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?" Whenever, therefore, an examination is made into the nature of moral evil as it exists in the individual heart, both parties concerned should share in the examination. The soul, as it looks within, should invite the scrutiny of God also, and as fast as it makes discoveries of its transgression and corruption should realize that the Holy One sees also. Such a joint examination as this produces a very keen and clear sense of the evil and guilt of sin. Conscience indeed makes cowards of us all, but when the eye of God is felt to be upon us, it smites us to the ground. "When _Thou_ with rebukes,"--says the Psalmist,--"dost correct man for his iniquity, Thou makest his beauty to consume away like a moth." One great reason why the feeling which the moralist has towards sin is so tame and languid, when compared with the holy abhorrence of the regenerate mind, lies in the fact that he has not contemplated human depravity in company with a sin-hating Jehovah. At the very utmost, he has been shut up merely with a moral sense which he has insulated from its dread ground and support,--the personal character and holy emotions of God. What wonder is it, then, that this finite faculty should lose much of its temper and severity, and though still condemning sin (for it must do this, if it does anything), fails to do it with that spiritual energy which characterizes the conscience when God is felt to be co-present and co-operating. So it is, in other provinces. We feel the guilt of an evil action more sharply, when we know that a fellow-man saw us commit it, than when we know that no one but ourselves is cognizant of the deed. The flush of shame often rises into our face, upon learning accidentally that a fellow-being was looking at us, when we did the wrong action without any blush. How much more criminal, then, do we feel, when distinctly aware that the pure and holy God knows our transgression. How much clearer is our perception of the nature of moral evil, when we investigate it along with Him whose eyes are a flame of fire. It is, consequently, a very solemn moment, when the human spirit and the Eternal Mind are reasoning together about the inward sinfulness. When the soul is shut up along with the Holy One of Israel, there are great searchings of heart. Man is honest and anxious at such a time. His usual thoughtlessness and torpidity upon the subject of religion leaves him, and he becomes a serious and deeply-interested creature. Would that the multitudes who listen so languidly to the statements of the pulpit, upon these themes of sin and guilt, might be closeted with the Everlasting Judge, in silence and in solemn reflection. You who have for years been told of sin, but are, perhaps, still as indifferent regarding it as if there were no stain, upon the conscience,--would that you might enter into an examination of yourself, alone with your Maker. Then would you become as serious, and as anxious, as you will be in that moment when you shall be informed that the last hour of your life upon earth has come. Another effect of this "reasoning together" with God, respecting our character and conduct, is to render our views _discriminating_. The action of the mind is not only intense, it is also intelligent. Strange as it may sound, it is yet a fact, that a review of our past lives conducted under the eye of God, and with a recognition of His presence and oversight, serves to deliver the mind from confusion and panic, and to fill it with a calm and rational fear. This is of great value. For, when a man begins to be excited upon the subject of religion,--it may be for the first time, in his unreflecting and heedless life,--he is oftentimes terribly excited. He is now brought _suddenly_ into the midst of the most solemn things. That sin of his, the enormity of which he had never seen before, now reveals itself in a most frightful form, and he feels as the murderer does who wakes in the morning and begins to realize that he has killed a man. That holy Being, of whose holiness he had no proper conception, now rises dim and awful before his half-opened inward eye, and he trembles like the pagan before the unknown God whom he ignorantly worships. That eternity, which he had heard spoken of with total indifference, now flashes penal flames in his face. Taken and held in this state of mind, the transgressor is confusedly as well as terribly awakened, and he needs first of all to have this experience clarified, and know precisely for what he is trembling, and why. This panic and consternation must depart, and a calm intelligent anxiety must take its place. But this cannot be, unless the mind turns towards God, and invites His searching scrutiny, and His aid in the search after sin. So long as we shrink away from our Judge, and in upon ourselves, in these hours of conviction,--so long as we deal only with the workings of our own minds, and do not look up and "reason together" with God,--we take the most direct method of producing a blind, an obscure, and a selfish agony. We work ourselves, more and more, into a mere phrenzy of excitement. Some of the most wretched and fanatical experience in the history of the Church is traceable to a solitary self-brooding, in which, after the sense of sin had been awakened, the soul did not discuss the matter with God. For the character and attributes of God, when clearly seen, repress all fright, and produce that peculiar species of fear which is tranquil because it is deep. Though the soul, in such an hour, is conscious that God is a fearful object of sight for a transgressor, yet it continues to gaze at Him with an eager straining eye. And in so doing, the superficial tremor and panic of its first awakening to the subject of religion passes off, and gives place to an intenser moral feeling, the calmness of which is like the stillness of fascination. Nothing has a finer effect upon a company of awakened minds, than to cause the being and attributes of God, in all their majesty and purity, to rise like an orb within their horizon; and the individual can do nothing more proper, or more salutary, when once his sin begins to disquiet him, and the inward perturbation commences, than to collect and steady himself, in an act of reflection upon that very Being who _abhors_ sin. Let no man, in the hour of conviction and moral fear, attempt to run away from the Divine holiness. On the contrary, let him rush forward and throw himself down prostrate before that Dread Presence, and plead the merits of the Son of God, before it. He that finds his life shall lose it; but he that loses his life shall find it. Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it remains a single unproductive corn of wheat; but if it _die_, it germinates and brings forth much fruit. He who does not avoid a contact between the sin of his soul and the holiness of his God, but on the contrary seeks to have these two things come together, that each may be understood in its own intrinsic nature and quality, takes the only safe course. He finds that, as he knows God more distinctly, he knows himself more distinctly; and though as yet he can see nothing but displeasure in that holy countenance, he is possessed of a well-defined experience. He knows that he is wrong, and his Maker is right; that he is wicked, and that God is holy. He perceives these two fundamental facts with a simplicity, and a certainty, that admits of no debate. The confusion and obscurity of his mind, and particularly the queryings whether these things are so, whether God is so very holy and man is so very sinful, begin to disappear, like a fog when disparted and scattered by sunrise. Objects are seen in their true proportions and meanings; right and wrong, the carnal mind and the spiritual mind, heaven and hell,--all the great contraries that pertain to the subject of religion,--are distinctly understood, and thus the first step is taken towards a better state of things in the soul. Let no man, then, fear to invite the scrutiny of God, in connection with his own scrutiny of himself. He who deals only with the sense of duty, and the operations of his own mind, will find that these themselves become more dim and indistinct, so long as the process of examination is not conducted in this joint manner; so long as the mind refuses to accept the Divine proposition, "Come now, and let us reason _together_." He, on the other hand, who endeavors to obtain a clear view of the Being against whom he has sinned, and to feel the full power of His holy eye as well as of His holy law, will find that his sensations and experiences are gaining a wonderful distinctness and intensity that will speedily bring the entire matter to an issue. II. For then, by the blessing of God, he learns the second lesson taught in the text: viz., that _there is forgiveness with God_. Though, in this process of joint examination, your sins be found to be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be discovered to be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. If there were no forgiveness of sins, if mercy were not a manifested attribute of God, all self-examination, and especially all this conjoint divine scrutiny, would be a pure torment and a pure gratuity. It is wretchedness to know that we are guilty sinners, but it is the endless torment to know that there is no forgiveness, either here or hereafter. Convince a man that he will never be pardoned, and you shut him up with the spirits in prison. Compel him to examine himself under the eye of his God, while at the same time he has no hope of mercy,--and there would be nothing _unjust_ in this,--and you distress him with the keenest and most living torment of which a rational spirit is capable. Well and natural was it, that the earliest creed of the Christian Church emphasized the doctrine of the Divine Pity; and in all ages the Apostolic Symbol has called upon the guilt-stricken human soul to cry, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins." We have the amplest assurance in the whole written Revelation of God, _but nowhere else_, that "there is forgiveness with Him, that He may be feared." "Whoso confesseth and forsaketh his sins shall find mercy;" and only with such an assurance as this from His own lips, could we summon courage to look into our character and conduct, and invite God to do the same. But the text is an exceedingly explicit assertion of this great truth. The very same Being who invites us to reason with Him, and canvass the subject of our criminality, in the very same breath, if we may so speak, assures us that He will forgive all that is found in this examination. And upon _such_ terms, cannot the criminal well afford to examine into his crime? He has a promise beforehand, that if he will but scrutinize and confess his sin it shall be forgiven. God would have been simply and strictly just, had He said to him: "Go down into the depths of thy transgressing spirit, see how wicked thou hast been and still art, and know that in my righteous severity I will never pardon thee, world without end." But instead of this, He says: "Go down into the depths of thy heart, see the transgression and the corruption all along the line of the examination, confess it into my ear, and I will make the scarlet and crimson guilt white in the blood of my own Son." These declarations of Holy Writ, which are a direct verbal statement from the lips of God, and which specify distinctly what He will do and will not do in the matter of sin, teach us that however deeply our souls shall be found to be stained, the Divine pity outruns and exceeds the crime. "For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is his mercy towards them that fear him. He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" Here upon earth, there is no wickedness that surpasses the pardoning love of God in Christ. The words which Shakspeare puts into the mouth of the remorseful, but _impenitent_, Danish king are strictly true: "What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy, But to confront the visage of offence?"[1] Anywhere this side of the other world, and at any moment this side of the grave, a sinner, _if penitent_ (but penitence is not always at his control), may obtain forgiveness for all his sins, through Christ's blood of atonement. He must not hope for mercy in the future world, if he neglects it here. There are no acts of pardon passed in the day of judgment. The utterance of Christ in _that_ day is not the utterance, "Thy sins are forgiven thee," but, "Come ye blessed," or "Depart ye cursed." So long, and only so long, as there is life there is hope, and however great may be the conscious criminality of a man while he is under the economy of Redemption, and before he is summoned to render up his last account, let him not despair but hope in Divine grace. Now, he who has seriously "reasoned together" with God, respecting his own character, is far better prepared to find God in the forgiveness of sins, than he is who has merely brooded over his own unhappiness, without any reference to the qualities and claims of his Judge. It has been a plain and personal matter throughout, and having now come to a clear and settled conviction that he is a guilty sinner, he turns directly to the great and good Being who stands immediately before him, and prays to be forgiven, and _is_ forgiven. One reason why the soul so often gropes days and months without finding a sin-pardoning God lies in the fact, that its thoughts and feelings respecting religious subjects, and particularly respecting the state of the heart, have been too vague and indistinct. They have not had an immediate and close reference to that one single Being who is most directly concerned, and who alone can minister to a mind diseased. The soul is wretched, and there may be some sense of sin, but there is no one to go to,--no one to address with an appealing cry. "Oh that I knew where I might find him," is its language. "Oh that I might come even to his seat. Behold I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him." But this groping would cease were there a clear view of God. There might not be peace and a sense of reconciliation immediately; but there would be a distinct conception of _the one thing needful_ in order to salvation. This would banish all other subjects and objects. The eye would be fixed upon the single fact of sin, and the simple fact that none but God can forgive it. The whole inward experience would thus be narrowed down to a focus. Simplicity and intensity would be introduced into the mental state, instead of the previous confusion and vagueness. Soliloquy would end, and prayer, importunate, agonizing prayer, would begin. That morbid and useless self-brooding would cease, and those strong cryings and wrestlings till day-break would commence, and the kingdom of heaven would suffer this violence, and the violent would take it by force. "When I _kept silence_; my bones waxed old, through my roaring all the day long. For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me; my moisture was turned into the drought of summer. I _acknowledged_ my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity I no longer _hid_. I said, I will _confess_ my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin. For this,"--because this is Thy method of salvation,--"shall every one that is godly pray unto thee, in a time when thou mayest be found." (Ps. xxxii. 3-6.) Self-examination, then, when joined with a distinct recognition of the Divine character, and a conscious sense of God's scrutiny, paradoxical as it may appear, is the surest means of producing a firm conviction in a guilty mind that God is merciful, and is the swiftest way of finding Him to be so. Opposed as the Divine nature is to sin, abhorrent as iniquity is to the pure mind of God, it is nevertheless a fact, that that sinner who goes directly into this Dread Presence with all his sins upon his head, in order to know them, to be condemned and crushed by them, and to confess them, is the one who soonest returns with peace and hope in his soul. For, he discovers that God is as cordial and sincere in His offer to forgive, as He is in His threat to punish; and having, to his sorrow, felt the reality and power of the Divine anger, he now to his joy feels the equal reality and power of the Divine love. And this is the one great lesson which every man must learn, or perish forever. The _truthfulness_ of God, in every respect, and in all relations,--His strict _fidelity to His word_, both under the law and under the gospel,--is a quality of which every one must have a vivid knowledge and certainty, in order to salvation. Men perish through unbelief. He that doubteth is damned. To illustrate. Men pass through this life doubting and denying God's abhorrence of sin, and His determination to punish it forever and ever. Under the narcotic and stupefying influence of this doubt and denial, they remain in sin, and at death go over into the immediate presence of God, only to discover that all His statements respecting His determination upon this subject are _true_,--awfully and hopelessly true. They then spend an eternity, in bewailing their infatuation in dreaming, while here upon earth, that the great and holy God did not mean what he said. Unbelief, again, tends to death in the other direction, though it is far less liable to result in it. The convicted and guilt-smitten man sometimes doubts the truthfulness of the Divine promise in Christ. He spends days of darkness and nights of woe, because he is unbelieving in regard to God's compassion, and readiness to forgive a penitent; and when, at length, the light of the Divine countenance breaks upon him, he wonders that he was so foolish and slow of heart to believe all that God himself had said concerning the "multitude" of his tender mercies. Christian and Hopeful lay long and needlessly in the dungeon of Doubting Castle, until the former remembered that the key to all the locks was in his bosom, and had been all the while. They needed only to take God at his word. The anxious and fearful soul must believe the Eternal Judge _implicitly_, when he says: "I will justify thee through the blood of Christ." God is truthful under the gospel, and under the law; in His promise of mercy, and in His threatening of eternal woe. And "if we believe not, yet He abideth faithful; He cannot deny Himself." He hath promised, and He hath threatened; and, though heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one tittle of that promise shall not fail in the case of those who confidingly trust it, nor shall one iota or scintilla of the threatening fail in the instance of those who have recklessly and rashly disbelieved it. In respect, then, to both sides of the revelation of the Divine character,--in respect to the threatening and the promise,--men need to have a clear perception, and an unwavering belief. He that doubteth in either direction is damned. He who does not believe that God is truthful, when He declares that He will "punish iniquity, transgression and sin," and that those upon the left hand shall "go away into everlasting punishment," will persist in sin until he passes the line of probation and be lost. And he who does not believe that God is truthful, when He declares that He will forgive scarlet and crimson sins through the blood of Christ, will be overcome by despair and be also lost. But he who believes _both_ Divine statements with equal certainty, and perceives _both_ facts with distinct vision, will be saved. From these two lessons of the text, we deduce the following practical directions: 1. First: In all states of religious anxiety, we should _betake ourselves instantly and directly to God_. There is no other refuge for the human soul but God in Christ, and if this fails us, we must renounce all hope here and hereafter. "If this fail, The pillared firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble."[2] We are, therefore, from the nature of the case, shut up to this course. Suppose the religious anxiety arise from a sense of sin, and the fear of retribution. God is the only Being that can forgive sins. To whom, then, can such an one go but unto Him? Suppose the religious anxiety arises from a sense of the perishing nature of earthly objects, and the soul feels as if all the foundation and fabric of its hope and comfort were rocking into irretrievable ruin. God is the only Being who can help in this crisis. In either or in any case,--be it the anxiety of the unforgiven, or of the child of God,--whatever be the species of mental sorrow, the human soul is by its very circumstances driven to its Maker, or else driven to destruction. What more reasonable course, therefore, than to conform to the necessities of our condition. The principal part of wisdom is to take things as they are, and act accordingly. Are we, then, sinners, and in fear for the final result of our life? Though it may seem to us like running into fire, we must nevertheless betake ourselves first and immediately to that Being who hates and punishes sin. Though we see nothing but condemnation and displeasure in those holy eyes, we must nevertheless approach them _just and simply as we are_. We must say with king David in a similar case, when he had incurred the displeasure of God: "I am in a great strait; [yet] let me fall into the hand of the Lord, for very great are his mercies" (1 Chron. xx. 13). We must suffer the intolerable brightness to blind and blast us in our guiltiness, and let there be an actual contact between the sin of our soul and the holiness of our God. If we thus proceed, in accordance with the facts of our case and our position, we shall meet with a great and joyful surprise. Flinging ourselves helpless, and despairing of all other help,--_rashly_, as it will seem to us, flinging ourselves off from the position where we now are, and upon which we must inevitably perish, we shall find ourselves, to our surprise and unspeakable joy, caught in everlasting, paternal arms. He who loses his life,--he who _dares_ to lose his life,--shall find it. 2. Secondly: In all our religious anxiety, we should _make a full and plain statement of everything to God_. God loves to hear the details of our sin, and our woe. The soul that pours itself out as water will find that it is not like water spilt upon the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. Even when the story is one of shame and remorse, we find it to be mental relief, patiently and without any reservation or palliation, to expose the whole not only to our own eye but to that of our Judge. For, to this very thing have we been invited. This is precisely the "reasoning together" which God proposes to us. God has not offered clemency to a sinful world, with the expectation or desire that there be on the part of those to whom it is offered, such a stinted and meagre confession, such a glozing over and diminution of sin, as to make that clemency appear a very small matter. He well knows the depth and the immensity of the sin which He proposes to pardon, and has made provision accordingly. In the phrase of Luther, it is no painted sinner who is to be forgiven, and it is no painted Saviour who is offered. The transgression is deep and real, and the atonement is deep and real. The crime cannot be exaggerated, neither can the expiation. He, therefore, who makes the plainest and most child-like statement of himself to God, acts most in accordance with the mind, and will, and gospel of God. If man only be hearty, full, and unreserved in confession, he will find God to be hearty, full, and unreserved in absolution. Man is not straitened upon the side of the Divine mercy. The obstacle in the way of his salvation is in himself; and the particular, fatal obstacle consists in the fact that he does not feel that he _needs_ mercy. God in Christ stands ready to pardon, but man the sinner stands up before Him like the besotted criminal in our courts of law, with no feeling upon the subject. The Judge assures him that He has a boundless grace and clemency to bestow, but the stolid hardened man is not even aware that he has committed a dreadful crime, and needs grace and clemency. There is food in infinite abundance, but no hunger upon the part of man. The water of life is flowing by in torrents, but men have no thirst. In this state of things, nothing can be done, but to pass a sentence of condemnation. God cannot forgive a being who does not even know that he needs to be forgiven. Knowledge then, self-knowledge, is the great requisite; and the want of it is the cause of perdition. This "reasoning together" with God, respecting our past and present character and conduct, is the first step to be taken by any one who would make preparation for eternity. As soon as we come to a right understanding of our lost and guilty condition, we shall cry: "Be merciful to me a sinner; create within me a clean heart, O God." Without such an understanding,--such an intelligent perception of our sin and guilt,--we never shall, and we never can. [Footnote 1: SHAKSPEARE: Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4.] [Footnote 2: MILTON: Comus, 597-599.] SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY John viii. 34.--"Jesus answered them, Verily, verily I say unto you, whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin." The word [Greek: doulos] which is translated "servant," in the text, literally signifies a slave; and the thought which our Lord actually conveyed to those who heard Him is, "Whosoever committeth sin is the _slave_ of sin." The apostle Peter, in that second Epistle of his which is so full of terse and terrible description of the effects of unbridled sensuality upon the human will, expresses the same truth. Speaking of the influence of those corrupting and licentious men who have "eyes full of adultery, and that _cannot_ cease from sin," he remarks that while they promise their dupes "liberty, they themselves are the servants [slaves] of corruption: for of whom a man is overcome, of the same is he _brought in bondage_." Such passages as these, of which there are a great number in the Bible, direct attention to the fact that sin contains an element of _servitude_,--that in the very act of transgressing the law of God there is a _reflex_ action of the human will upon itself, whereby it becomes less able than before to keep that law. Sin is the suicidal action of the human will. It destroys the power to do right, which is man's true freedom. The effect of vicious habit in diminishing a man's ability to resist temptation is proverbial. But what is habit but a constant repetition of wrong decisions, every single one of which _reacts_ upon the faculty that put them forth, and renders it less strong and less energetic, to do the contrary. Has the old debauchee, just tottering into hell, as much power of active resistance against the sin which has now ruined him, as the youth has who is just beginning to run that awful career? Can any being do a wrong act, and be as sound in his will and as spiritually strong, after it, as he was before it? Did that abuse of free agency by Adam, whereby the sin of the race was originated, leave the agent as it found him,--uninjured and undebilitated in his voluntary power? The truth and fact is, that sin in and by its own nature and operations, tends to destroy all virtuous force, all holy energy, in any moral being. The excess of will to sin is the same as the defect of will to holiness. The degree of intensity with which any man loves and inclines to evil is the measure of the amount of power to good which he has thereby lost. And if the intensity be total, then the loss is entire. Total depravity carries with it total impotence and helplessness. The more carefully we observe the workings of our own wills, the surer will be our conviction that they can ruin themselves. We shall indeed find that they cannot be _forced_, or ruined from the outside. But, if we watch the influence upon the _will itself_, of its own wrong decisions, its own yielding to temptations, we shall discover that the voluntary faculty may be ruined from within; may be made impotent to good by its own action; may surrender itself with such an intensity and entireness to appetite, passion, and self-love, that it becomes unable to reverse itself, and overcome its own wrong disposition and direction. And yet there is no _compulsion_, from first to last, in the process. The man follows himself. He pursues his own inclination. He has his own way and does as he pleases. He loves what he inclines to love, and hates what he inclines to hate. Neither God, nor the world, nor Satan himself, force him to do wrong. Sin is the most spontaneous of self-motion. But self-motion has _consequences_ as much as any other motion. Because transgression is a _self_-determined act, it does not follow that it has no reaction and results, but leaves the will precisely as it found it. It is strictly true that man was not necessitated to apostatize; but it is equally true that if by his own self-decision he should apostatize, he could not then and afterwards be as he was before. He would lose a _knowledge_ of God and divine things which he could never regain of himself. And he would lose a spiritual _power_ which he could never again recover of himself. The bondage of which Christ speaks, when He says, "Whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," is an effect within the soul itself of an unforced act of self-will, and therefore is as truly guilt as any other result or product of self-will,--as spiritual blindness, or spiritual hardness, or any other of the qualities of sin. Whatever springs from will, we are responsible for. The drunkard's bondage and powerlessness issues from his own inclination and self-indulgence, and therefore the bondage and impotence is no excuse for his vice. Man's inability to love God supremely results from his intense self-will and self-love; and therefore his impotence is a part and element of his sin, and not an excuse for it. "If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, may not plead it? All wickedness is weakness."[1] The doctrine, then, which is taught in the text, is the truth that _sin is spiritual slavery_; and it is to the proof and illustration of this position that we invite attention. The term "spiritual" is too often taken to mean unreal, fanciful, figurative. For man is earthly in his views as well as in his feelings, and therefore regards visible and material things as the emphatic realities. Hence he employs material objects as the ultimate standard, by which he measures the reality of all other things. The natural man has more consciousness of his body, than he has of his soul; more sense of this world, than of the other. Hence we find that the carnal man expresses his conception of spiritual things, by transferring to them, in a weak and secondary signification, words which he applies in a strong and vivid way only to material objects. He speaks of the "joy" of the spirit, but it is not such a reality for him as is the "joy" of the body. He speaks of the "pain" of the spirit, but it has not such a poignancy for him as that anguish which thrills through his muscles and nerves. He knows that the "death" of the body is a terrible event, but transfers the word "death" to the spirit with a vague and feeble meaning, not realizing that the second death is more awful than the first, and is accompanied with a spiritual distress compared with which, the sharpest agony of material dissolution would be a relief. He understands what is meant by the "life" of the body, but when he hears the "eternal life" of the spirit spoken of, or when he reads of it in the Bible, it is with the feeling that it cannot be so real and lifelike as that vital principle whose currents impart vigor and warmth to his bodily frame. And yet, the life of the spirit is more intensely real than the life of the body is; for it has power to overrule and absorb it. Spiritual life, when in full play, is bliss ineffable. It translates man into the third heavens, where the fleshly life is lost sight of entirely, and the being, like St. Paul, does not know whether he is in the body or out of the body. The natural mind is deceived. Spirit has in it more of reality than matter has; because it is an immortal and indestructible essence, while matter is neither. Spiritual things are more real than visible things; because they are eternal, and eternity is more real than time. Statements respecting spiritual objects, therefore, are more solemnly true than any that relate to material things. Invisible and spiritual realities, therefore, are the standard by which all others should be tried; and human language when applied to them, instead of expressing too much, expresses too little. The imagery and phraseology by which the Scriptures describe the glory of God, the excellence of holiness, and the bliss of heaven, on the one side, and the sinfulness of sin with the woe of hell, on the other, come short of the sober and actual matter of fact. We should, therefore, beware of the error to which in our unspirituality we are specially liable; and when we hear Christ assert that "whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," we should believe and know, that these words are not extravagant, and contain no subtrahend,--that they indicate a self-enslavement of the human will which is so real, so total, and so absolute, as to necessitate the renewing grace of God in order to deliverance from it. This bondage to sin may be discovered by every man. It must be discovered, before one can cry, "Save me or I perish." It must be discovered, before one can feelingly assent to Christ's words, "Without me ye can do nothing." It must be discovered, before one can understand the Christian paradox, "When I am weak, then am I strong." To aid the mind, in coming to the conscious experience of the truth taught in the text, we remark: I. Sin is spiritual slavery, if viewed in reference to man's _sense of obligation to be perfectly holy_. The obligation to be holy, just, and good, as God is, rests upon every rational being. Every man knows, or may know, that he ought to be perfect as his Father in heaven is perfect, and that he is a debtor to this obligation until he has _fully_ met it. Hence even the holiest of men are conscious of sin, because they are not completely up to the mark of this high calling of God. For, the sense of this obligation is an exceeding broad one,--like the law itself which it includes and enforces. The feeling of duty will not let us off, with the performance of only a part of our duty. Its utterance is: "Verily I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law till _all_ be fulfilled." Law spreads itself over the whole surface and course of our lives, and insists imperatively that every part and particle of them be pure and holy. Again, this sense of obligation to be perfect as God is perfect, is exceedingly deep. It is the most profound sense of which man is possessed, for it outlives all others. The feeling of duty to God's law remains in a man's mind either to bless him or to curse him, when all other feelings depart. In the hour of death, when all the varied passions and experiences which have engrossed the man his whole lifetime are dying out of the soul, and are disappearing, one after another, like signal-lights in the deepening darkness, this one particular feeling of what he owes to the Divine and the Eternal law remains behind, and grows more vivid, and painful, as all others grow dimmer and dimmer. And therefore it is, that in this solemn hour man forgets whether he has been happy or unhappy, successful or unsuccessful, in the world, and remembers only that he has been a _sinner_ in it. And therefore it is, that a man's thoughts, when he is upon his death-bed, do not settle upon his worldly matters, but upon his sin. It is because the human conscience is the very core and centre of the human being, and its sense of obligation to be holy is deeper than all other senses and sensations, that we hear the dying man say what the living and prosperous man is not inclined to say: "I have been wicked; I have been a sinner in the earth." Now it might seem, at first sight, that this broad, deep, and abiding sense of obligation would be sufficient to overcome man's love of sin, and bring him up to the discharge of duty,--would be powerful enough to subdue his self-will. Can it be that this strong and steady draft of conscience,--strong and steady as gravitation,--will ultimately prove ineffectual? Is not truth mighty, and must it not finally prevail, to the pulling down of the stronghold which Satan has in the human heart? So some men argue. So some men claim, in opposition to the doctrine of Divine influences and of regeneration by the Holy Ghost. We are willing to appeal to actual experience, in order to settle the point. And we affirm in the outset, that exactly in proportion as a man hears the voice of conscience sounding its law within his breast, does he become aware, not of the strength but, of the bondage of his will, and that in proportion as this sense of obligation to be _perfectly_ holy rises in his soul, all hope or expectation of ever becoming so by his own power sets in thick night. In our careless unawakened state, which is our ordinary state, we sin on from day to day, just as we live on from day to day, without being distinctly aware of it. A healthy man does not go about, holding his fingers upon his wrist, and counting every pulse; and neither does a sinful man, as he walks these streets and transacts all this business, think of and sum up the multitude of his transgressions. And yet, that pulse all the while beats none the less; and yet, that will all the while transgresses none the less. So long as conscience is asleep, sin is pleasant. The sinful activity goes on without notice, we are happy in sin, and we do not feel that it is slavery of the will. Though the chains are actually about us, yet they do not gall us. In this condition, which is that of every unawakened sinner, we are not conscious of the "bondage of corruption." In the phrase of St. Paul, "we are alive without the law." We have no feeling sense of duty, and of course have no feeling sense of sin. And it is in this state of things, that arguments are framed to prove the mightiness of mere conscience, and the power of bare truth and moral obligation, over the perverse human heart and will. But the Spirit of God awakens the conscience; that sense of obligation to be _perfectly_ holy which has hitherto slept now starts up, and begins to form an estimate of what has been done in reference to it. The man hears the authoritative and startling law: "Thou shalt be perfect, as God is." And now, at this very instant and point, begins the consciousness of enslavement,--of being, in the expressive phrase of Scripture, "_sold_ under sin." Now the commandment "comes," shows us first what we ought to be and then what we actually are, and we "die."[2] All moral strength dies out of us. The muscle has been cut by the sword of truth, and the limb drops helpless by the side. For, we find that the obligation is immense. It extends to all our outward acts; and having covered the whole of this great surface, it then strikes inward and reaches to every thought of the mind, and every emotion of the heart, and every motive of the will. We discover that we are under obligation at every conceivable point in our being and in our history, but that we have not met obligation at a single point. When we see that the law of God is broad and deep, and that sin is equally broad and deep within us; when we learn that we have never thought one single holy thought, nor felt one single holy feeling, nor done one single holy deed, because self-love is the root and principle of all our work, and we have never purposed or desired to please God by any one of our actions; when we find that everything has been required, and that absolutely nothing has been done, that we are bound to be perfectly holy this very instant, and as matter of fact are totally sinful, we know in a most affecting manner that "whosoever committeth sin is the _slave_ of sin". But suppose that after this disheartening and weakening discovery of the depth and extent of our sinfulness, we proceed to take the second step, and attempt to extirpate it. Suppose that after coming to a consciousness of all this obligation resting upon us, we endeavor to comply with it. This renders us still more painfully sensible of the truth of our Saviour's declaration. Even the regenerated man, who in this endeavor has the aid of God, is mournfully conscious that sin is the enslavement of the human will. Though he has been freed substantially, he feels that the fragments of the chains are upon him still. Though the love of God is the predominant principle within him, yet the lusts and propensities of the old nature continually start up like devils, and tug at the spirit, to drag it down to its old bondage. But that man who attempts to overcome sin, without first crying, "Create within me a clean heart, O God," feels still more deeply that sin is spiritual slavery. When _he_ comes to know sin in reference to the obligation to be perfectly holy, it is with vividness and hopelessness. He sees distinctly that he ought to be a perfectly good being instantaneously. This point is clear. But instead of looking up to the hills whence cometh his help, he begins, in a cold legal and loveless temper, to draw upon his own resources. The first step is to regulate his external conduct by the Divine law. He tries to put a bridle upon his tongue, and to walk carefully before his fellow-men. He fails to do even this small outside thing, and is filled with discouragement and despondency. But the sense of duty reaches beyond the external conduct, and the law of God pierces like the two-edged sword of an executioner, and discerns the thoughts and motives of the heart. Sin begins to be seen in its relation to the inner man, and he attempts again to reform and change the feelings and affections of his soul. He strives to wring the gall of bitterness out of his own heart, with his own hands. But he fails utterly. As he resolves, and breaks his resolutions; as he finds evil thoughts and feelings continually coming up from the deep places of his heart; he discovers his spiritual impotence,--his lack of control over what is deepest, most intimate, and most fundamental in his own character,--and cries out: "I _am_ a slave, I am a _slave_ to myself." If then, you would know from immediate consciousness that "whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," simply view sin in the light of that obligation to be _perfectly_ pure and holy which necessarily, and forever, rests upon a responsible being. If you would know that spiritual slavery is no extravagant and unmeaning phrase, but denotes a most real and helpless bondage, endeavor to get entirely rid of sin, and to be perfect as the spirits of just men made perfect. II. Sin is spiritual slavery, if viewed in reference to the _aspirations_ of the human soul. Theology makes a distinction between common and special grace,--between those ordinary influences of the Divine Spirit which rouse the conscience, and awaken some transient aspirations after religion, and those extraordinary influences which actually renew the heart and will. In speaking, then, of the aspirations of the human soul, reference is had to all those serious impressions, and those painful anxieties concerning salvation, which require to be followed up by a yet mightier power from God, to prevent their being entirely suppressed again, as they are in a multitude of instances, by the strong love of sin and the world. For though man has fallen into a state of death in trespasses and sins, so that if cut off from _every_ species of Divine influence, and left _entirely_ to himself, he would never reach out after anything but the sin which he loves, yet through the common influences of the Spirit of Grace, and the ordinary workings of a rational nature not yet reprobated, he is at times the subject of internal stirrings and aspirations that indicate the greatness and glory of the heights whence he fell. Under the power of an awakened conscience, and feeling the emptiness of the world, and the aching void within him, man wishes for something better than he has, or than he is. The minds of the more thoughtful of the ancient pagans were the subjects of these impulses, and aspirations; and they confess their utter inability to realize them. They are expressed upon every page of Plato, and it is not surprising that some of the Christian Fathers should have deemed Platonism, as well as Judaism, to be a preparation for Christianity, by its bringing man to a sense of his need of redemption. And it would stimulate Christians in their efforts to give revealed religion to the heathen, did they ponder the fact which the journals of the missionary sometimes disclose, that the Divine Spirit is brooding with His common and preparatory influence over the chaos of Paganism, and that here and there the heathen mind faintly aspires to be freed from the bondage of corruption,--that dim stirrings, impulses, and wishes for deliverance, are awake in the dark heart of Paganism, but that owing to the strength and inveteracy of sin in that heart they will prove ineffectual to salvation, unless the gospel is preached, and the Holy Spirit is specially poured out in answer to the prayers of Christians. Now, all these phenomena in the human soul go to show the rigid bondage of sin, and to prove that sin has an element of servitude in it. For when these impulses, wishes, and aspirations are awakened, and the man discovers that he is unable to realize them in actual character and conduct, he is wretchedly and thoroughly conscious that "whosoever committeth sin is the _slave_ of sin." The immortal, heaven-descended spirit, feeling the kindling touch of truth and of the Holy Ghost, thrills under it, and essays to soar. But sin hangs heavy upon it, and it cannot lift itself from the earth. Never is man so sensible of his enslavement and his helplessness, as when he has a _wish_ but has no _will_.[3] Look, for illustration, at the aspirations of the drunkard to be delivered from the vice that easily besets him. In his sober moments, they come thick and fast, and during his sobriety, and while under the lashings of conscience, he wishes, nay, even _longs_, to be freed from drunkenness. It may be, that under the impulse of these aspirations he resolves never to drink again. It may be, that amid the buoyancy that naturally accompanies the springing of hope and longing in the human soul, he for a time seems to himself to be actually rising up from his "wallowing in the mire," and supposes that he shall soon regain his primitive condition of temperance. But the sin is strong; for the appetite that feeds it is in his blood. Temptation with its witching solicitation comes before the will,--the weak, self-enslaved will. He _aspires_ to resist, but _will_ not; the spirit _would_ soar, but the flesh _will_ creep; the spirit has the _wish_, but the flesh has the _will_; the man longs to be sober, but actually is and remains a drunkard. And never,--be it noticed,--never is he more thoroughly conscious of being a slave to himself, than when he thus _ineffectually_ aspires and wishes to be delivered from himself. What has been said of drunkenness, and the aspiration to be freed from it, applies with full force to all the sin and all the aspirations of the human soul. There is no independent and self-realizing power in a mere aspiration. No man overcomes even his vices, except as he is assisted by the common grace of God. The self-reliant man invariably relapses into his old habits. He who thinks he stands is sure to fall. But when, under the influence of God's common grace, a man aspires to be freed from the deepest of all sin, because it is the source of all particular acts of transgression,--when he attempts to overcome and extirpate the original and inveterate depravity of his heart,--he feels his bondage more thoroughly than ever. If it is wretchedness for the drunkard to aspire after freedom from only a single vice, and fail of reaching it, is it not the depth of woe, when a man comes to know "the plague of his heart," and his utter inability to cleanse and cure it? In this case, the bondage of self-will is found to be absolute. At first sight, it might seem as if these wishes and aspirations of the human spirit, faint though they be, are proof that man is not totally depraved, and that his will is not helplessly enslaved. So some men argue. But they forget, that these aspirations and wishes are _never realized_. There is no evidence of power, except from its results. And where are the results? Who has ever realized these wishes and aspirations, in his heart and conduct? The truth is, that every _unattained_ aspiration that ever swelled the human soul is proof positive, and loud, that the human soul is in bondage. These _ineffectual_ stirrings and impulses, which disappear like the morning cloud and the early dew, are most affecting evidences that "whosoever committeth sin is the _slave_ of sin." They prove that apostate man has sunk, in one respect, to a lower level than that of the irrational creation. For, high ideas and truths cannot raise him. Lofty impulses result in no alteration, or elevation. Even Divine influences leave him just where they find him, unless they are exerted in their highest grade of irresistible grace. A brute surrenders himself to his appetites and propensities, and lives the low life of nature, without being capable of aspirations for anything purer and nobler. But man does this very thing,--nay, immerses himself in flesh, and sense, and self, with an entireness and intensity of which the brute is incapable,--in the face of impulses and stirrings of mind that point him to the pure throne of God, and urge him to soar up to it! The brute is a creature of nature, because he knows no better, and can desire nothing better; but man is "as the beasts that perish," in spite of a better knowledge and a loftier aspiration! If then, you would know that "whosoever committeth sin is the _slave_ of sin," contemplate sin in reference to the aspirations of an apostate spirit originally made in the image of God, and which, because it is not eternally reprobated, is not entirely cut off from the common influences of the Spirit of God. Never will you feel the bondage of your will more profoundly, than when under these influences, and in your moments of seriousness and anxiety respecting your soul's salvation, you aspire and endeavor to overcome inward sin, and find that unless God grant you His special and renovating grace, your heart will be sinful through all eternity, in spite of the best impulses of your best hours. These upward impulses and aspirations cannot accompany the soul into the state of final hopelessness and despair, though Milton represents Satan as sometimes looking back with a sigh, and a mournful memory, upon what he had once been,[4]--yet if they should go with us there, they would make the ardor of the fire more fierce, and the gnaw of the worm more fell. For they would help to reveal the strength of our sin, and the intensity of our rebellion. III. Sin is spiritual slavery, if viewed in reference to the _fears_ of the human soul. The sinful spirit of man fears the death of the body, and the Scriptures assert that by reason of this particular fear we are all our lifetime in bondage. Though we know that the bodily dissolution can have no effect upon the imperishable essence of an immortal being, yet we shrink back from it, as if the sentence, "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return," had been spoken of the spirit,--as if the worm were to "feed sweetly" upon the soul, and it were to be buried up in the dark house of the grave. Even the boldest of us is disturbed at the thought of bodily death, and we are always startled when the summons suddenly comes: "Set thy house in order, for thou must die." Again, the spirit of man fears that "fearful something after death," that eternal judgment which must be passed upon all. We tremble at the prospect of giving an account of our own actions. We are afraid to reap the harvest, the seed of which we have sown with our own hands. The thought of going to a just judgment, and of receiving from the Judge of all the earth, who cannot possibly do injustice to any of His creatures, only that which is our desert, shocks us to the centre of our being! Man universally is afraid to be judged with a righteous judgment! Man universally is terrified by the equitable bar of God! Again, the apostate spirit of man has an awful dread of eternity. Though this invisible realm is the proper home of the human soul, and it was made to dwell there forever, after the threescore and ten years of its residence in the body are over, yet it shrinks back from an entrance into this untried world, and clings with the desperate force of a drowning man to this "bank and shoal of time." There are moments in the life of a guilty man when the very idea of eternal existence exerts a preternatural power, and fills him with a dread that paralyzes him. Never is the human being stirred to so great depths, and roused to such intensity of action, as when it feels what the Scripture calls "the power of an _endless_ life." All men are urged by some ruling passion which is strong. The love of wealth, or of pleasure, or of fame, drives the mind onward with great force, and excites it to mighty exertions to compass its end. But never is a man pervaded by such an irresistible and overwhelming influence as that which descends upon him in some season of religious gloom,--some hour of sickness, or danger, or death,--when the great eternity, with all its awful realities, and all its unknown terror, opens upon his quailing gaze. There are times in man's life, when he is the subject of movements within that impel him to deeds that seem almost superhuman; but that internal ferment and convulsion which is produced when all eternity pours itself through his being turns his soul up from the centre. Man will labor convulsively, night and day, for money; he will dry up the bloom and freshness of health, for earthly power and fame; he will actually wear his body out for sensual pleasure. But what is the intensity and paroxysm of this activity of mind and body, if compared with those inward struggles and throes when the overtaken and startled sinner sees the eternal world looming into view, and with strong crying and tears prays for only a little respite, and only a little preparation! "Millions for an inch of time,"--said the dying English Queen. "O Eternity! Eternity! how shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with in _eternity_,"--says the man in the iron cage of Despair. This finite world has indeed great power to stir man, but the other world has an infinitely greater power. The clouds which float in the lower regions of the sky, and the winds that sweep them along, produce great ruin and destruction upon the earth, but it is only when the "windows of heaven are opened" that "the fountains of the great deep are broken up," and "all in whose nostrils is the breath of life die," and "every living substance is destroyed which is upon the face of the ground." When fear arises in the soul of man, in view of an eternal existence for which he is utterly unprepared, it is overwhelming. It partakes of the immensity of eternity, and holds the man with an omnipotent grasp. If, now, we view sin in relation to these great fears of death, judgment, and eternity, we see that it is spiritual slavery, or the bondage of the will. We discover that our terror is no more able to deliver us from the "bondage of corruption," than our aspiration is. We found that in spite of the serious stirrings and impulses which sometimes rise within us, we still continue immersed in sense and sin; and we shall also find that in spite of the most solemn and awful fears of which a finite being is capable, we remain bondmen to ourselves, and our sin. The dread that goes down into hell can no more ransom us, than can the aspiration that goes up into heaven. Our fear of eternal woe can no more change the heart, than our wish for eternal happiness can. We have, at some periods, faintly wished that lusts and passions had no power over us; and perhaps we have been the subject of still higher aspirings. But we are the same beings, still. We are the same self-willed and self-enslaved sinners, yet. We have all our lifetime feared death, judgment, and eternity, and under the influence of this fear we have sometimes resolved and promised to become Christians. But we are the very same beings, still; we are the same self-willed and self-enslaved sinners yet. Oh, never is the human spirit more deeply conscious of its bondage to its darling iniquity, than when these paralyzing fears shut down upon it, like night, with "a horror of great darkness." When under their influence, the man feels most thoroughly and wretchedly that his sin is his ruin, and yet his sinful determination continues on, because "whosoever committeth sin is the _slave_ of sin," Has it never happened that, in "the visions of the night when deep sleep falleth upon men," a spirit passed before your face, like that which stood still before the Temanite; and there was silence, and a voice saying, "Man! Man! thou must die, thou must be judged, thou must inhabit eternity?" And when the spirit had departed, and while the tones of its solemn and startling cry were still rolling through your soul, did not a temptation to sin solicit you, and did you not drink in its iniquity like water? Have you not found out, by mournful experience, that the most anxious forebodings of the human spirit, the most alarming fears of the human soul, and the most solemn warnings that come forth from eternity, have no prevailing power over your sinful nature, but that immediately after experiencing them, and while your whole being is still quivering under their agonizing touch, you fall, you rush, into sin? Have you not discovered that even that most dreadful of all fears,--the fear of the holy wrath of almighty God,--is not strong enough to save you from yourself? Do you know that your love of sin has the power to stifle and overcome the mightiest of your fears, when you are strongly tempted to self-indulgence? Have you no evidence, in your own experience, of the truth of the poet's words: "The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, Slaves by their own compulsion." If, then, you would know that "whosoever committeth sin is the _slave_ of sin," contemplate sin in relation to the fears which of necessity rest upon a spirit capable, as yours is, of knowing that it must leave the body, that it must receive a final sentence at the bar of judgment, and that eternity is its last and fixed dwelling-place. If you would know with sadness and with profit, that sin is the enslavement of the will that originates it, consider that all the distressing fears that have ever been in your soul, from the first, have not been able to set you free in the least from innate depravity: but, that in spite of them all your will has been steadily surrendering itself, more and more, to the evil principle of self-love and enmity to God. Call to mind the great fight of anguish and terror which you have sometimes waged with sin, and see how sin has always been victorious. Remember that you have often dreaded death,--but you are unjust still. Remember that you have often trembled at the thought of eternal judgment,--but you are unregenerate still. Remember that you have often started back, when the holy and retributive eternity dawned like the day of doom upon you,--but you are impenitent still. If you view your own personal sin in reference to your own personal fears, are you not a slave to it? Will or can your fears, mighty as they sometimes are, deliver you from the bondage of corruption, and lift you above that which you love with all your heart, and strength, and might? It is perfectly plain, then, that "whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," whether we have regard to the feeling of obligation to be perfectly holy which is in the human conscience; or to the ineffectual aspirations which sometimes arise in the human spirit; or to the dreadful fears which often fall upon it. Sin must have brought the human will into a real and absolute bondage, if the deep and solemn sense of indebtedness to moral law; if the "thoughts that wander through eternity;" if the aspirations that soar to the heaven of heavens, and the fears that descend to the very bottom of hell,--if all these combined forces and influences cannot free it from its power. It was remarked in the beginning of this discourse, that the bondage of sin is the result of the _reflex_ action of the human will upon itself. It is not a slavery imposed from without, but from within. The bondage of sin is only a _particular aspect_ of sin itself. The element of servitude, like the element of blindness, or hardness, or rebelliousness, is part and particle of that moral evil which deserves the wrath and curse of God. It, therefore, no more excuses or palliates, than does any other self-originated quality in sin. Spiritual bondage, like spiritual enmity to God, or spiritual ignorance of Him, or spiritual apathy towards Him, is guilt and crime. And in closing, we desire to repeat and emphasize this truth. Whoever will enter upon that process of self-wrestling and self-conflict which has been described, will come to a profound sense of the truth which our Lord taught in the words of the text. All such will find and feel that they are in slavery, and that their slavery is their condemnation. For the anxious, weary, and heavy-laden sinner, the problem is not mysterious, because it finds its solution in the depths of his own _self-consciousness_. He needs no one to clear it up for him, and he has neither doubts nor cavils respecting it. But, an objection always assails that mind which has not the key of an inward moral struggle to unlock the problem for it. When Christ asserts that "whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," the easy and indifferent mind is swift to draw the inference that this bondage is its misfortune, and that the poor slave does not deserve to be punished, but to be set free. He says as St. Paul did in another connection: "Nay verily, but let them come themselves, and fetch us out." But this slavery is a _self_-enslavement. The feet of this man have not been thrust into the stocks by another. This logician must refer everything to its own proper author, and its own proper cause. Let this spiritual bondage, therefore, be charged upon the _self_ that originated it. Let it be referred to that self-will in which it is wrapped up, and of which it is a constituent element. It is a universally received maxim, that the agent is responsible for the _consequences_ of a voluntary act, as well as for the act itself. If, therefore, the human will has inflicted a suicidal blow upon itself, and one of the consequences of its own determination is a total enslavement of itself to its own determination, then this enslaving _result_ of the act, as well the act itself, must all go in to constitute and swell the sum-total of human guilt. The miserable drunkard, therefore, cannot be absolved from the drunkard's condemnation, upon the plea that by a long series of voluntary acts he has, in the end, so enslaved himself that no power but God's grace can save him. The marble-hearted fiend in hell, the absolutely lost spirit in despair, cannot relieve his torturing sense of guilt, by the reflection that he has at length so hardened his own heart that he cannot repent. The unforced will of a moral being must be held responsible for both its direct, and its _reflex_ action; for both its sin, and its _bondage_ in sin. The denial of guilt, then, is not the way out. He who takes this road "kicks against the goads." And he will find their stabs thickening, the farther he travels, and the nearer he draws to the face and eyes of God. But there is a way out. It is the way of self-knowledge and confession. This is the point upon which all the antecedents of salvation hinge. He who has come to know, with a clear discrimination, that he is in a guilty bondage to his own inclination and lust, has taken the very first step towards freedom. For, the Redeemer, the Almighty Deliverer, is near the captive, so soon as the captive feels his bondage and confesses it. The mighty God walking upon the waves of this sinful, troubled life, stretches out _His_ arm, the very instant any sinking soul cries, "Lord save me." And unless that appeal and confession of helplessness _is_ made, He, the Merciful and the Compassionate, will let the soul go down before His own eyes to the unfathomed abyss. If the sinking Peter had not uttered that cry, the mighty hand of Christ would not have been stretched forth. All the difficulties disappear, so soon as a man understands the truth of the Divine affirmation: "O Israel thou hast destroyed thyself,"--it is a real destruction, and it is thy own work,--"but in ME is thy help." [Footnote 1: MILTON: Samson Agonistes, 832-834.--One key to the solution of the problem, how there can be bondage in the very seat of freedom,--how man can be responsible for sin, yet helpless in it,--is to be found in this fact of a reflex action of the will upon itself, or, a reaction of self-action. Philosophical speculation upon the nature of the human will has not, hitherto, taken this fact sufficiently into account. The following extracts corroborate the view presented above. "My _will_ the enemy held, and _thence_ had made a chain for me, and bound me. For, of a perverse _will_ comes _lust_; and a lust yielded to becomes _custom_; and custom not resisted becomes _necessity_. By which links, as it were, joined together as in a chain, a hard bondage held me enthralled." AUGUSTINE: Confessions, VIII. v. 10. "Every degree of inclination contrary to duty, which is and must be sinful, implies and involves an equal degree of difficulty and inability to obey. For, indeed, such inclination of the heart to disobey, and the difficulty or inability to obey, are precisely one and the same. This kind of difficulty or inability, therefore, always is great according to the strength and fixedness of the inclination to disobey; and it becomes _total_ and _absolute_ [inability], when the heart is totally corrupt and wholly opposed to obedience.... No man can act contrary to his present inclination or choice. But who ever imagined that this rendered his inclination and choice innocent and blameless, however wrong and unreasonable it might be." SAMUEL HOPKINS: Works, I. 233-235. "Moral inability" is the being "unable to be willing." EDWARDS: Freedom of the Will, Part I, sect. iv. "Propensities,"--says a writer very different from those above quoted,--"that are easily surmounted lead us unresistingly on; we yield to temptations so trivial that we despise their danger. And so we fall into perilous situations from which we might easily have preserved ourselves, but from which we now find it impossible to extricate ourselves without efforts so superhuman as to terrify us, and we finally fall into the abyss, saying to the Almighty, 'Why hast Thou made me so weak?' But notwithstanding our vain pretext, He addresses our conscience, saying, 'I have made thee _too weak to rise from the pit_, because I made thee _strong enough not to fall therein_." ROUSSEAU: Confessions, Book II.] [Footnote 2: Romans vii. 9-11.] [Footnote 3: Some of the Schoolmen distinguished carefully between the two things, and denominated the former, _velleitas_, and the latter, _voluntas_.] [Footnote 4: MILTON: Paradise Lost, IV. 23-25; 35-61.] THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL RELATION OF MAN TO LAW. ROMANS vii. 10.--"The commandment which, was ordained to life, I found to be unto death." The reader of St. Paul's Epistles is struck with the seemingly disparaging manner in which he speaks of the moral law. In one place, he tells his reader that "the law entered that the offence might abound;" in another, that "the law worketh wrath;" in another, that "sin shall not have dominion" over the believer because he is "not under the law;" in another, that Christians "are become dead to the law;" in another, that "they are delivered from the law;" and in another, that "the strength of sin is the law." This phraseology sounds strangely, respecting that great commandment upon which the whole moral government of God is founded. We are in the habit of supposing that nothing that springs from the Divine law, or is in any way connected with it, can be evil or the occasion of evil. If the law of holiness is the strength of sin; if it worketh wrath; if good men are to be delivered from it; what then shall be said of the law of sin? Why is it, that St. Paul in a certain class of his representations appears to be inimical to the ten commandments, and to warn Christians against them? "Is the law sin?" is a question that very naturally arises, while reading some of his statements; and it is a question which he himself asks, because he is aware that it will be likely to start in the mind of some of his readers. And it is a question to which he replies: "God forbid. Nay I had not known sin, but by the law." The difficulty is only seeming, and not real. These apparently disparaging representations of the moral law are perfectly reconcilable with that profound reverence for its authority which St. Paul felt and exhibited, and with that solemn and cogent preaching of the law for which he was so distinguished. The text explains and resolves the difficulty. "The commandment which was ordained to _life_, I found to be unto death." The moral law, in its own _nature_, and by the Divine _ordination_, is suited to produce holiness and happiness in the soul of any and every man. It was ordained to life. So far as the purpose of God, and the original nature and character of man, are concerned, the ten commandments are perfectly adapted to fill the soul with peace and purity. In the unfallen creature, they work no wrath, neither are they the strength of sin. If everything in man had remained as it was created, there would have been no need of urging him to "become dead to the law," to be "delivered from the law," and not be "under the law." Had man kept his original righteousness, it could never be said of him that "the strength of sin is the law." On the contrary, there was such a mutual agreement between the unfallen nature of man and the holy law of God, that the latter was the very joy and strength of the former. The commandment was ordained to life, and it was the life and peace of holy Adam. The original relation between man's nature and the moral law was precisely like that between material nature and the material laws. There has been no apostasy in the system of matter, and all things remain there as they were in the beginning of creation. The law of gravitation, this very instant, rules as peacefully and supremely in every atom of matter, as it did on the morning of creation. Should material nature be "delivered" from the law of gravitation, chaos would come again. No portion of this fair and beautiful natural world needs to become "dead" to the laws of nature. Such phraseology as this is inapplicable to the relation that exists between the world of matter, and the system of material laws, because, in this material sphere, there has been no revolution, no rebellion, no great catastrophe analogous to the fall of Adam. The law here was ordained to life, and the ordinance still stands. And it shall stand until, by the will of the Creator, these elements shall melt with fervent heat, and these heavens shall pass away with a great noise; until a new system of nature, and a new legislation for it, are introduced. But the case is different with man. He is not standing where he was, when created. He is out of his original relations to the law and government of God, and therefore that which was ordained to him for life, he now finds to be unto death. The food which in its own nature is suited to minister to the health and strength of the well man, becomes poison and death itself to the sick man. With this brief notice of the fact, that the law of God was ordained to life, and that therefore this disparaging phraseology of St. Paul does not refer to the intrinsic nature of law, which he expressly informs us "is holy just and good," nor to the original relation which man sustained to it before he became a sinner, let us now proceed to consider some particulars in which the commandment is found to be unto death, to every _sinful_ man. The law of God shows itself in the human soul, in the form of a _sense of duty_. Every man, as he walks these streets, and engages in the business or pleasures of life, hears occasionally the words: "Thou shalt; them shalt not." Every man, as he passes along in this earthly pilgrimage, finds himself saying to himself: "I ought, I ought not." This is the voice of law sounding in the conscience; and every man may know, whenever he hears these words, that he is listening to the same authority that cut the ten commandments into the stones of Sinai, and sounded that awful trumpet, and will one day come in power and great glory to judge the quick and dead. Law, we say, expresses itself for man, while here upon earth, through the sense of duty. "A sense of duty pursues us ever," said Webster, in that impressive allusion to the workings of conscience, in the trial of the Salem murderers. This is the accusing and condemning _sensation_, in and by which the written statute of God becomes a living energy, and a startling voice in the soul. Cut into the rock of Sinai, it is a dead letter; written and printed in our Bibles, it is still a dead letter; but wrought in this manner into the fabric of our own constitution, waylaying us in our hours of weakness, and irresolution, and secrecy, and speaking to our inward being in tones that are as startling as any that could be addressed to the physical ear,--undergoing this transmutation, and becoming a continual consciousness of duty and obligation, the law of God is more than a letter. It is a possessing spirit, and according as we obey or disobey, it is a guardian angel, or a tormenting fiend. We have disobeyed, and therefore the sense of duty is a tormenting sensation; the commandment which was ordained to life, is found to be unto death. I. In the first place, to go into the analysis, the sense of duty is a sorrow and a pain to sinful man, because it _places him under a continual restraint_. No creature can be happy, so long as he feels himself under limitations. To be checked, reined in, and thwarted in any way, renders a man uneasy and discontented. The universal and instinctive desire for freedom,--freedom from restraint,--is a proof of this. Every creature wishes to follow out his inclination, and in proportion as he is hindered in so doing, and is compelled to work counter to it, he is restless and dissatisfied. Now the sense of duty exerts just this influence, upon sinful man. It opposes his wishes; it thwarts his inclination; it imposes a restraint upon his spontaneous desires and appetites. It continually hedges up his way, and seeks to stop him in the path of his choice and his pleasure. If his inclination were only in harmony with his duty; if his desires and affections were one with the law of God; there would be no restraint from the law. In this case, the sense of duty would be a joy and not a sorrow, because, in doing his duty, he would be doing what he liked. There are only two ways, whereby contentment can be introduced into the human soul. If the Divine law could be altered so that it should agree with man's sinful inclination, he could be happy in sin. The commandment having become like his own heart, there would, of course, be no conflict between the two, and he might sin on forever and lap himself in Elysium. And undoubtedly there are thousands of luxurious and guilty men, who, if they could, like the Eastern Semiramis, would make lust and law alike in their decree;[1] would transmute the law of holiness into a law of sin; would put evil for good, and good for evil, bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter; in order to be eternally happy in the sin that they love. They would bring duty and inclination into harmony, by a method that would annihilate duty, would annihilate the eternal distinction between right and wrong, would annihilate God himself. But this method, of course, is impossible. There can be no transmutation of law, though there can be of a creature's character and inclination. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but the commandment of God can never pass away. The only other mode, therefore, by which duty and inclination can be brought into agreement, and the continual sense of restraint which renders man so wretched be removed, is to change the inclination. The instant the desires and affections of our hearts are transformed, so that they accord with the Divine law, the conflict between our will and our conscience is at an end. When I come to love the law of holiness and delight in it, to obey it is simply to follow out my inclination. And this, we have seen, is to be happy. But such is not the state of things, in the unrenewed soul. Duty and inclination are in conflict. Man's desires appetites and tendencies are in one direction, and his conscience is in the other. The sense of duty holds a whip over him. He yields to his sinful inclination, finds a momentary pleasure in so doing, and then feels the stings of the scorpion-lash. We see this operation in a very plain and striking manner, if we select an instance where the appetite is very strong, and the voice of conscience is very loud. Take, for example, that particular sin which most easily besets an individual. Every man has such a sin, and knows what it is, Let him call to mind the innumerable instances in which that particular temptation has assailed him, and he will be startled to discover how many thousands of times the sense of duty has put a restraint upon him. Though not in every single instance, yet in hundreds and hundreds of cases, the law of God has uttered the, "Thou shalt not," and endeavored to prevent the consummation of that sin. And what a wearisome experience is this. A continual forth-putting of an unlawful desire, and an almost incessant check upon it, from a law which is hated but which is feared. For such is the attitude of the natural heart toward the commandment. "The carnal mind is _enmity_ against the law of God." The two are contrary to one another; so that when the heart goes out in its inclination, it is immediately hindered and opposed by the law. Sometimes the collision between them is terrible, and the soul becomes; an arena of tumultuous passions. The heart and will are intensely determined to do wrong, while the conscience is unyielding and uncompromising, and utters its denunciations, and thunders its warnings. And what a dreadful destiny awaits that soul, in whom this conflict and collision between the dictates of conscience, and the desires of the heart, is to be eternal! for whom, through all eternity, the holy law of God, which was ordained to life peace and joy, shall be found to be unto death and woe immeasurable! II. In the second place, the sense of duty is a pain and sorrow to a sinful man, because it _demands a perpetual effort_ from him. No creature likes to tug, and to lift. Service must be easy, in order to be happy. If you lay upon the shoulders of a laborer a burden that strains his muscles almost to the point of rupture, you put him in physical pain. His physical structure was not intended to be subjected to such a stretch. His Creator designed that the burden should be proportioned to the power, in such a manner that work should be play. In the garden of Eden, physical labor was physical pleasure, because the powers were in healthy action, and the work assigned to them was not a burden. Before the fall, man was simply to dress and keep a garden; but after the fall, he was to dig up thorns and thistles, and eat his bread in the sweat of his face. This is a _curse_,--the curse of being compelled to toil, and lift, and put the muscle to such a tension that it aches. This is not the original and happy condition of the body, in which man was created. Look at the toiling millions of the human family, who like the poor ant "for one small grain, labor, and tug, and strive;" see them bending double, under the heavy weary load which they must carry until relieved by death; and tell me if this is the physical elysium, the earthly paradise, in which unfallen man was originally placed, and for which he was originally designed. No, the curse of labor, of perpetual effort, has fallen upon the body, as the curse of death has fallen upon the soul; and the uneasiness and unrest of the groaning and struggling body is a convincing proof of it. The whole physical nature of man groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now, waiting for the adoption, that is the _redemption of the body_ from this penal necessity of perpetual strain and effort. The same fact meets us when we pass from the physical to the moral nature of man, and becomes much more sad and impressive. By creation, it was a pleasure and a pastime for man to keep the law of God, to do spiritual work. As created, he was not compelled to summon his energies, and strain his will, and make a convulsive resolution to obey the commands of his Maker. Obedience was joy. Holy Adam knew nothing of _effort_ in the path of duty. It was a smooth and broad pathway, fringed with flowers, and leading into the meadows of asphodel. It did not become the "straight and narrow" way, until sin had made obedience a toil, the sense of duty a restraint, and human life a race and a fight. By apostasy, the obligation to keep the Divine law perfectly, became repulsive. It was no longer easy for man to do right; and it has never been easy or spontaneous to him since. Hence, the attempt to follow the dictates of conscience always costs an unregenerate man an effort. He is compelled to make a resolution; and a resolution is the sign and signal of a difficult and unwelcome service. Take your own experience for an illustration. Did you ever, except as you were sweetly inclined and drawn by the renewing grace of God, attempt to discharge a duty, without discovering that you were averse to it, and that you must gather up your energies for the work, as the leaper strains upon the tendon of Achilles to make the mortal leap. And if you had not become weary, and given over the effort; if you had entered upon that sad but salutary passage in the religious experience which is delineated in the seventh chapter of Romans; if you had continued to struggle and strive to do your duty, until you grew faint and weak, and powerless, and cried out for a higher and mightier power to succor you; you would have known, as you do not yet, what a deadly opposition there is between the carnal mind and the law of God, and what a spasmodic effort it costs an unrenewed man even to _attempt_ to discharge the innumerable obligations that rest upon him. Mankind would know more of this species of toil and labor, and of the cleaving curse involved in it, if they were under the same physical necessity in regard to it, that they lie under in respect to manual labor. A man _must_ dig up the thorns and thistles, he _must_ earn his bread in the sweat of his face, or he must die. Physical wants, hunger and thirst, set men to work physically, and keep them at it; and thus they well understand what it is to have a weary body, aching muscles, and a tired physical nature. But they are not under the same species of necessity, in respect to the wants and the work of the soul. A man may neglect these, and yet live a long and luxurious life upon the earth. He is not driven by the very force of circumstances, to labor with his heart and will, as he is to labor with his hands. And hence he knows little or nothing of a weary and heavy-laden soul; nothing of an aching heart and a tired will. He well knows how much strain and effort it costs to cut down forests, open roads, and reduce the wilderness to a fertile field; but he does not know how much toil and effort are involved, in the attempt to convert the human soul into the garden of the Lord. Now in this demand for a _perpetual effort_ which is made upon the natural man, by the sense of duty, we see that the law which was ordained to life is found to be unto death. The commandment, instead of being a pleasant friend and companion to the human soul, as it was in the beginning, has become a strict rigorous task-master. It lays out an uncongenial work for sinful man to do, and threatens him with punishment and woe if he does not do it. And yet the law is not a tyrant. It is holy, just, and good. This work which it lays out is righteous work, and ought to be done. The wicked disinclination and aversion of the sinner have compelled the law to assume this unwelcome and threatening attitude. That which is good was not made death to man by God's agency, and by a Divine arrangement, but by man's transgression.[2] Sin produces this misery in the human soul, through an instrument that is innocent, and in its own nature benevolent and kind. Apostasy, the rebellion and corruption of the human heart, has converted the law of God into an exacting task-master and an avenging magistrate. For the law says to every man what St. Paul says of the magistrate: "Rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. Wilt thou, then, not be afraid of the power? Do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same. For he is the minister of God to thee for good: _but if thou do that which is evil, be afraid_." If man were only conformed to the law; if the inclination of his heart were only in harmony with his sense of duty; the ten commandments would not be accompanied with any thunders or lightnings, and the discharge of duty would be as easy, spontaneous, and as much without effort, as the practice of sin now is. Thus have we considered two particulars in which the Divine law, originally intended to render man happy, and intrinsically adapted to do so, now renders him miserable. The commandment which was ordained to life, he now finds to be unto death, because it places him under a continual restraint, and drives him to a perpetual effort. These two particulars, we need not say, are not all the modes in which sin has converted the moral law from a joy to a sorrow. We have not discussed the great subject of guilt and penalty. This violated law charges home the past disobedience and threatens an everlasting damnation, and thus fills the sinful soul with fears and forebodings. In this way, also, the law becomes a terrible organ and instrument of misery, and is found to be unto death. But the limits of this discourse compel us to stop the discussion here, and to deduce some practical lessons which are suggested by it. 1. In the first place, we are taught by the subject, as thus considered, that _the mere sense of duty is not Christianity_. If this is all that a man is possessed of, he is not prepared for the day of judgment, and the future life. For the sense of duty, alone and by itself, causes misery in a soul that has not performed its duty. The law worketh wrath, in a creature who has not obeyed the law. The man that doeth these things shall indeed live by them; but he who has not done them must die by them. There have been, and still are, great mistakes made at this point. Men have supposed that an active conscience, and a lofty susceptibility towards right and wrong, will fit them to appear before God, and have, therefore, rejected Christ the Propitiation. They have substituted ethics for the gospel; natural religion for revealed. "I know," says Immanuel Kant, "of but two beautiful things; the starry heavens above my head, and the sense of duty within my heart."[3] But, is the sense of duty _beautiful_ to apostate man? to a being who is not conformed to it? Does the holy law of God overarch him like the firmament, "tinged with a blue of heavenly dye, and starred with sparkling gold?" Nay, nay. If there be any beauty in the condemning law of God, for man the _transgressor_, it is the beauty of the lightnings. There is a splendor in them, but there is a terror also. Not until He who is the end of the law for righteousness has clothed me with His panoply, and shielded me from their glittering shafts in the clefts of the Rock, do I dare to look at them, as they leap from crag to crag, and shine from the east even unto the west. We do not deny that the consciousness of responsibility is a lofty one, and are by no means insensible to the grand and swelling sentiments concerning the moral law, and human duty, to which this noble thinker gives utterance.[4] But we are certain that if the sense of duty had pressed upon him to the degree that it did upon St. Paul; had the commandment "come" to him with the convicting energy that it did to St. Augustine, and to Pascal; he too would have discovered that the law which was ordained to life is found to be unto death. So long as man stands at a distance from the moral law, he can admire its glory and its beauty; but when it comes close to him; when it comes home to him; when it becomes a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart; then its glory is swallowed up in its terror, and its beauty is lost in its truth. Then he who was alive without the law becomes slain by the law. Then this ethical admiration of the decalogue is exchanged for an evangelical trust in Jesus Christ. 2. And this leads us to remark, in the second place, that this subject shows _the meaning of Christ's work of Redemption_. The law for an alienated and corrupt soul is a burden. It cannot be otherwise; for it imposes a perpetual restraint, urges up to an unwelcome duty, and charges home a fearful guilt. Christ is well named the _Redeemer_, because He frees the sinful soul from all this. He delivers it from the penalty, by assuming it all upon Himself, and making complete satisfaction to the broken law. He delivers it from the perpetual restraint and the irksome effort, by so renewing and changing the heart that it becomes a delight to keep the law. We observed, in the first part of the discourse, that if man could only bring the inclination of his heart into agreement with his sense of duty, he would be happy in obeying, and the consciousness of restraint and of hateful effort would disappear. This is precisely what Christ accomplishes by His Spirit. He brings the human heart into harmony with the Divine law, as it was in the beginning, and thus rescues it from its bondage and its toil. Obedience becomes a pleasure, and the service of God, the highest Christian liberty. Oh, would that by the act of faith, you might experience this liberating effect of the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. So long as you are out of Christ, you are under a burden that will every day grow heavier, and may prove to be fixed and unremovable as the mountains. That is a fearful punishment which the poet Dante represents as being inflicted upon those who were guilty of pride. The poor wretches are compelled to support enormous masses of stone which bend them over to the ground, and, in his own stern phrase, "crumple up their knees into their breasts." Thus they stand, stooping over, every muscle trembling, the heavy stone weighing them down, and yet they are not permitted to fall, and rest themselves upon the earth.[5] In this crouching posture, they must carry the weary heavy load without relief, and with a distress so great that, in the poet's own language, "it seemed As he, who showed most patience in his look, Wailing exclaimed: I can endure no more."[6] Such is the posture of man unredeemed. There is a burden on him, under which he stoops and crouches. It is a burden compounded of guilt and corruption. It is lifted off by Christ, and by Christ only. The soul itself can never expiate its guilt; can never cleanse its pollution. We urge you, once more, to the act of faith in the Redeemer of the world. We beseech you, once more, to make "the redemption that is in Christ Jesus" your own. The instant you plead the merit of Christ's oblation, in simple confidence in its atoning efficacy, that instant the heavy burden is lifted off by an Almighty hand, and your curved, stooping, trembling, aching form once more stands erect, and you walk abroad in the liberty wherewith Christ makes the human creature free. [Footnote 1: "She in vice Of luxury was so shameless, that she made Liking to be lawful by promulged decree, To clear the blame she had herself incurr'd." DANTE: Inferno, v. 56.] [Footnote 2: Romans vii. 13, 14.] [Footnote 3: KANT: Kritik der Praktischen Vernunft (Beschlusz).--De Stael's rendering, which is so well known, and which I have employed, is less guarded than the original.] [Footnote 4: Compare the fine apostrophe to Duty. PRAKTISCHE VERNUNFT, p. 214, (Ed. Rosenkranz.)] [Footnote 5: "Let their eyes be darkened, that they may not see, and bow down their back alway." Rom. xi. 10.] [Footnote 6: DANTE: Purgatory x. 126-128.] THE SIN OF OMISSION. Matthew xix. 20.--"The young man saith unto him, All these things have I kept from my youth up: what lack I yet?" The narrative from which the text is taken is familiar to all readers of the Bible. A wealthy young man, of unblemished morals and amiable disposition, came to our Lord, to inquire His opinion respecting his own good estate. He asked what good thing he should do, in order to inherit eternal life. The fact that he applied to Christ at all, shows that he was not entirely at rest in his own mind. He could truly say that he had kept the ten commandments from his youth up, in an outward manner; and yet he was ill at ease. He was afraid that when the earthly life was over, he might not be able to endure the judgment of God, and might fail to enter into that happy paradise of which the Old Testament Scriptures so often speak, and of which he had so often read, in them. This young man, though a moralist, was not a self-satisfied or a self-conceited one. For, had he been like the Pharisee a thoroughly blinded and self-righteous person, like him he never would have approached Jesus of Nazareth, to obtain His opinion respecting his own religious character and prospects. Like him, he would have scorned to ask our Lord's judgment upon any matters of religion. Like the Pharisees, he would have said, "We see,"[1] and the state of his heart and his future prospects would have given him no anxiety. But he was not a conceited and presumptuous Pharisee. He was a serious and thoughtful person, though not a pious and holy one. For, he did not love God more than he loved his worldly possessions. He had not obeyed that first and great command, upon which hang all the law and the prophets, conformity to which, alone, constitutes righteousness: "Thou shalt _love_ the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy soul, and all thy mind, and all thy strength." He was not right at heart, and was therefore unprepared for death and judgment. This he seems to have had some dim apprehension of. For why, if he had felt that his external morality was a solid rock for his feet to stand upon, why should he have betaken himself to Jesus of Nazareth, to ask: "What lack I yet?" It was not what he had done, but what he had left undone, that wakened fears and forebodings in this young ruler's mind. The outward observance of the ten commandments was right and well in its own way and place; but the failure to obey, from the heart, the first and great command was the condemnation that rested upon him. He probably knew this, in some measure. He was not confidently certain of eternal life; and therefore he came to the Great Teacher, hoping to elicit from Him an answer that would quiet his conscience, and allow him to repose upon his morality while he continued to love this world supremely. The Great Teacher pierced him with an arrow. He said to him, "If them wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me." This direction showed him what he _lacked_. This incident leads us to consider the condemnation that rests upon every man, for his _failure_ in duty; the guilt that cleaves to him, on account of what he has _not_ done. The Westminster Catechism defines sin to be "any _want of conformity_ unto, or any transgression of, the law of God." Not to be conformed, in the heart, to the law and will of God, is as truly sin, as positively to steal, or positively to commit murder. Failure to come up to the line of rectitude is as punishable, as to step over that line. God requires of His creature that he stand squarely _upon_ the line of righteousness; if therefore he is off that line, because he has not come up to it, he is as guilty as when he transgresses, or passes across it, upon the other side. This is the reason that the sin of omission is as punishable as the sin of commission. In either case alike, the man is off the line of rectitude. Hence, in the final day, man will be condemned for what he lacks, for what he comes short of, in moral character. Want of conformity to the Divine law as really conflicts with the Divine law, as an overt transgression does, because it carries man off and away from it. One of the Greek words for sin [Greek: (amurtanein)] signifies, to miss the mark. When the archer shoots at the target, he as really fails to strike it, if his arrow falls short of it, as when he shoots over and beyond it. If he strains upon the bow with such a feeble force, that the arrow drops upon the ground long before it comes up to the mark, his shot is as total a failure, as when he strains upon the bow-string with all his force, but owing to an ill-directed aim sends his weapon into the air. One of the New Testament terms for sin contains this figure and illustration, in its etymology. Sin is a want of conformity unto, a failure to come clear up to, the line and mark prescribed by God, as well a violent and forcible breaking over and beyond the line and the mark. The _lack_ of holy love, the _lack_ of holy fear, the _lack_ of filial trust and confidence in God,--the negative absence of these and other qualities in the heart is as truly sin and guilt, as is the positive and open violation of a particular commandment, in the act of theft, or lying, or Sabbath-breaking. We propose, then, to direct attention to that form and aspect of human depravity which consists in coming short of the aim and end presented to man by his Maker,--that form and aspect of sin which is presented in the young ruler's inquiry: "What lack I yet?" It is a comprehensive answer to this question to say, that every natural man lacks _sincere and filial love of God_. This was the sin of the moral, but worldly, the amiable, but earthly-minded, young man. Endow him, in your fancy, with all the excellence you please, it still lies upon the face of the narrative, that he loved money more than he loved the Lord God Almighty. When the Son of God bade him go and sell his property, and give it to the poor, and then come and follow Him as a docile disciple like Peter and James and John, he went away sad in his mind; for he had great possessions. This was a reasonable requirement, though a very trying one. To command a young man of wealth and standing immediately to strip himself of all his property, to leave the circle in which he had been born and brought up, and to follow the Son of Man, who had not where to lay His head, up and down through Palestine, through good report and through evil report,--to put such a burden upon such a young man was to lay him under a very heavy load. Looking at it from a merely human and worldly point of view, it is not strange that the young ruler declined to take it upon his shoulders; though he felt sad in declining, because he had the misgiving that in declining he was sealing his doom. But, had he _loved_ the Lord God with all his heart; had he been _conformed unto_ the first and great command, in his heart and affections; had he not _lacked_ a spiritual and filial affection towards his Maker; he would have obeyed. For, the circumstances under which this command was given must be borne in mind. It issued directly from the lips of the Son of God Himself. It was not an ordinary call of Providence, in the ordinary manner in which God summons man to duty. There is reason to suppose that the young ruler knew and felt that Christ had authority to give such directions. We know not what were precisely his views of the person and office of Jesus of Nazareth; but the fact that he came to Him seeking instruction respecting the everlasting kingdom of God and the endless life of the soul, and the yet further fact that he went away in sadness because he did not find it in his heart to obey the instructions that he had received, prove that he was at least somewhat impressed with the Divine authority of our Lord. For, had he regarded Him as a mere ordinary mortal, knowing no more than any other man concerning the eternal kingdom of God, why should His words have distressed him? Had this young ruler taken the view of our Lord which was held by the Scribes and Pharisees, like them he would never have sought instruction from Him in a respectful and sincere manner; and, like them, he would have replied to the command to strip himself of all his property, leave the social circles to which he belonged, and follow the despised Nazarene, with the curling lip of scorn. He would not have gone away in sorrow, but in contempt. We must assume, therefore, that this young ruler felt that the person with whom he was conversing, and who had given him this extraordinary command, had authority to give it. We do not gather from the narrative that he doubted upon this point. Had he doubted, it would have relieved the sorrow with which his mind was disturbed. He might have justified his refusal to obey, by the consideration that this Jesus of Nazareth had no right to summon him, or any other man, to forsake the world and attach himself to His person and purposes, if any such consideration had entered his mind. No, the sorrow, the deep, deep sorrow and sadness, with which he went away to the beggarly elements of his houses and his lands, proves that he knew too well that this wonderful Being who was working miracles, and speaking words of wisdom that never man spake, had indeed authority and right to say to him, and to every other man, "Go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me." Though the command was indeed an extraordinary one, it was given in an extraordinary manner, by an extraordinary Being. That young ruler was not required to do any more than you and I would be obligated to do, _in the same circumstances_. It is indeed true, that in the _ordinary_ providence of God, you and I are not summoned to sell all our possessions, and distribute them to the poor, and to go up and down the streets of this city, or up and down the high-ways and by-ways of the land, as missionaries of Christ. But if the call were _extra-ordinary_,--if the heavens should open above our heads, and a voice from the skies should command us in a manner not to be doubted or disputed to do this particular thing, we ought immediately to do it. And if the love of God were in our hearts; if we were inwardly "conformed unto" the Divine law; if there were nothing lacking in our religious character; we should obey with the same directness and alacrity with which Peter and Andrew, and James and John, left their nets and their fishing-boat, their earthly avocations, their fathers and their fathers' households, and followed Christ to the end of their days. In the present circumstances of the church and the world, Christians must follow the ordinary indications of Divine Providence; and though these do unquestionably call upon them to make far greater sacrifices for the cause of Christ than they now make, yet they do not call upon them to sell _all_ that they have, and give it to the poor. But they ought to be ready and willing to do so, in case God by any remarkable and direct expression should indicate that this is His will and pleasure. Should our Lord, for illustration, descend again, and in His own person say to His people, as He did to the young ruler: "Sell all that ye have, and give to the poor, and go up and down the earth preaching the gospel," it would be the duty of every rich Christian to strip himself of all his riches, and of every poor Christian to make himself yet poorer, and of the whole Church to adopt the same course that was taken by the early Christians, who "had all things common, and sold their possessions and goods and parted them to all men, as every man had need." The direct and explicit command of the Lord Jesus Christ to do any particular thing must be obeyed at all hazards, and at all cost. Should He command any one of His disciples to lay down his life, or to undergo a severe discipline and experience in His service, He must be obeyed. This is what He means when He says, "If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple" (Luke xiv. 26, 27). The young ruler was subjected to this test. It was his privilege,--and it was a great privilege,--to see the Son of God face to face; to hear His words of wisdom and authority; to know without any doubt or ambiguity what particular thing God would have him do. And he refused to do it. He was moral; he was amiable; but he refused _point-blank_ to obey the direct command of God addressed to him from the very lips of God. It was with him as it would be with us, if the sky should open over our heads, and the Son of God should descend, and with His own lips should command us to perform a particular service, and we should be disobedient to the heavenly vision, and should say to the Eternal Son of God: "We will not." Think you that there is nothing _lacking_ in such a character as this? Is this religious perfection? Is such a heart as this "conformed unto" the law and will of God? If, then, we look into the character of the young ruler, we perceive that there was in it no supreme affection for God. On the contrary, he loved _himself_ with all his heart, and soul, and mind, and strength. Even his religious anxiety, which led him to our Lord for His opinion concerning his good estate, proved to be a merely selfish feeling. He desired immortal felicity beyond the tomb,--and the most irreligious man upon earth desires this,--but he did not possess such an affection for God as inclined, and enabled, him to obey His explicit command to make a sacrifice of his worldly possessions for His glory. And this lack of supreme love to God was _sin_. It was a deviation from the line of eternal rectitude and righteousness, as really and truly as murder, adultery, or theft, or any outward breach of any of those commandments which he affirmed he had kept from his youth up. This coming short of the Divine honor and glory was as much contrary to the Divine law, as any overt transgression of it could be. For love is the fulfilling of the law. The whole law, according to Christ, is summed up and contained, in these words: "Thou shall _love_ the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." To be destitute of this heavenly affection is, therefore, to break the law at the very centre and in the very substance of it. Men tell us, like this young ruler, that they do not murder, lie, or steal,--that they observe all the commandments of the second table pertaining to man and their relations to man,--and ask, "What lack we yet?" Alexander Pope, in the most brilliant and polished poetry yet composed by human art, sums up the whole of human duty in the observance of the rules and requirements of civil morality, and affirms that "an honest man is the noblest work of God." But is this so? Has religion reached its last term, and ultimate limit, when man respects the rights of property? Is a person who keeps his hands off the goods and chattels of his fellow-creature really qualified for the heavenly state, by reason of this fact and virtue of honesty? Has he attained the chief end of man?[2] Even if we could suppose a perfect obedience of all the statutes of the second table, while those of the first table were disobeyed; even if one could fulfil all his obligations to his neighbor, while failing in all his obligations to his Maker; even if we should concede a perfect morality, without any religion; would it be true that this morality, or obedience of only one of the two tables that cover the whole field of human duty, is sufficient to prepare man for the everlasting future, and the immediate presence of God? Who has informed man that the first table of the law is of no consequence; and that if he only loves his neighbor as himself, he need not love his Maker supremely? No! Affection in the heart towards the great and glorious God is the sum and substance of religion, and whoever is destitute of it is irreligious and sinful in the inmost spirit, and in the highest degree. His fault relates to the most excellent and worthy Being in the universe. He comes short of his duty, in reference to that Being who _more than any other one_ is entitled to his love and his services. We say, and we say correctly, that if a man fails of fulfilling his obligations towards those who have most claims upon him, he is more culpable than when he fails of his duty towards those who have less claims upon him. If a son comes short of his duty towards an affectionate and self-sacrificing mother, we say it is a greater fault, than if he comes short of his duty to a fellow-citizen. The parent is nearer to him than the citizen, and he owes unto her a warmer affection of his heart, and a more active service of his life, than he owes to his fellow-citizen. What would be thought of that son who should excuse his neglect, or ill-treatment, of the mother that bore him, upon the ground that he had never cheated a fellow-man and had been scrupulous in all his mercantile transactions! This but feebly illustrates the relation which every man sustains to God, and the claim which God has upon every man. Our first duty and obligation relates to our Maker. Our fellow-creatures have claims upon us; the dear partners of our blood have claims upon us; our own personality, with its infinite destiny for weal or woe, has claims upon us. But no one of these; not all of them combined; have upon us that _first_ claim, which God challenges for Himself. Social life,--the state or the nation to which we belong,--cannot say to us: "Thou shalt love me with all thy heart, and soul, and mind, and strength." The family, which is bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh, cannot say to us: "Thou shalt love us, with all thy soul, mind, heart, and strength." Even our own deathless and priceless soul cannot say to us: "Thou shalt love me supremely, and before all other beings and things." But the infinite and adorable God, the Being that made us, and has redeemed us, can of right demand that we love and honor Him first of all, and chiefest of all. There are two thoughts suggested by the subject which we have been considering, to which we now invite candid attention. 1. In the first place, this subject _convicts every man of sin_. Our Lord, by his searching reply to the young ruler's question, "What lack I yet?" sent him away very sorrowful; and what man, in any age and country, can apply the same test to himself, without finding the same unwillingness to sell all that he has and give to the poor,--the same indisposition to obey any and every command of God that crosses his natural inclinations? Every natural man, as he subjects his character to such a trial as that to which the young ruler was subjected, will discover as he did that he lacks supreme love of God, and like him, if he has any moral earnestness; if he feels at all the obligation of duty; will go away very sorrowful, because he perceives very plainly the conflict between his will and his conscience. How many a person, in the generations that have already gone to the judgment-seat of Christ, and in the generation that is now on the way thither, has been at times brought face to face with the great and first command, "Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy heart," and by some particular requirement has been made conscious of his utter opposition to that great law. Some special duty was urged upon him, by the providence, or the word, or the Spirit of God, that could not be performed unless his will were subjected to God's will, and unless his love for himself and the world were subordinated to his love of his Maker. If a young man, perhaps he was commanded to consecrate his talents and education to a life of philanthropy and service of God in the gospel, instead of a life devoted to secular and pecuniary aims. God said to him, by His providence, and by conscience, "Go teach my gospel to the perishing; go preach my word, to the dying and the lost." But he loved worldly ease pleasure and reputation more than he loved God; and he refused, and went away sorrowful, because this poor world looked very bright and alluring, and the path of self-denial and duty looked very forbidding. Or, if he was a man in middle life, perhaps he was commanded to abate his interest in plans for the accumulation of wealth, to contract his enterprises, to give attention to the concerns of his soul and the souls of his children, to make his own peace with God, and to consecrate the remainder of his life to Christ and to human welfare; and when this plain and reasonable course of conduct was dictated to him, he found his whole heart rising up against the proposition. Our Lord, alluding to the fact that there was nothing in common between His spirit, and the spirit of Satan, said to His disciples, "The prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me" (John xiv. 30). So, when the command to love God supremely comes to this man of the world, in any particular form, "it hath nothing in him." This first and great law finds no ready and genial response within his heart, but on the contrary a recoil within his soul as if some great monster had started up in his pathway. He says, in his mind, to the proposition: "Anything but that;" and, with the young ruler, he goes away sorrowful, because he knows that refusal is perdition. Is there not a wonderful power to _convict_ of sin, in this test? If you try yourself, as the young man did, by the command, "Thou shalt not kill," "Thou shalt not steal," "Thou shalt not commit adultery," you may succeed, perhaps, in quieting your conscience, to some extent, and in possessing yourself of the opinion of your fitness for the kingdom of God. But ask yourself the question, "Do I love God supremely, and am I ready and willing to do any and every particular thing that He shall command me to do, even if it is plucking out a right eye, or cutting off a right hand, or selling all my goods to give to the poor?" try yourself by _this_ test, and see if you lack anything in your moral character. When this thorough and proper touch-stone of character is applied, there is not found upon earth a just man that doeth good and sinneth not. Every human creature, by this test is concluded under sin. Every man is found, lacking in what he ought to possess, when the words of the commandment are sounded in his ear: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy soul, and all thy mind, and all thy strength." This sum and substance of the Divine law, upon which hang all the other laws, convinces every man of sin. For there is no escaping its force. Love of God is a distinct and definite feeling, and every person knows whether he ever experienced it. Every man knows whether it is, or is not, an affection of his heart; and he knows that if it be wanting, the foundation of religion is wanting in his soul, and the sum and substance of sin is there. 2. And this leads to the second and concluding thought suggested, by the subject, namely, that _except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God._ If there be any truth in the discussion through which we have passed, it is plain and incontrovertible, that to be destitute of holy love to God is a departure and deviation from the moral law. It is a coming short of the great requirement that rests upon every accountable creature of God, and this is as truly sin and guilt as any violent and open passing over and beyond the line of rectitude. The sin of omission is as deep and damning as the sin of commission. "Forgive,"--said the dying archbishop Usher,--"forgive all my sins, especially my sins of omission." But, how is this lack to be supplied? How is this great hiatus in human character to be filled up? How shall the fountain of holy and filial affection towards God be made to gush up into everlasting life, within your now unloving and hostile heart? There is no answer to this question of questions, but in the Person and Work of the Holy Ghost. If God shall shed abroad His love in your heart, by the Holy Ghost which is given unto you, you will know the blessedness of a new affection; and will be able to say with Peter, "Thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee." You are shut up to this method, and this influence. To generate within yourself this new spiritual emotion which you have never yet felt, is utterly impossible. Yet you must get it, or religion, is impossible, and immortal life is impossible. Would that you might feel your straits, and your helplessness. Would that you might perceive your total lack of supreme love of God, as the young ruler perceived his; and would that, unlike him, instead, of going away from the Son of God, you would go to Him, crying, "Lord create within me a clean heart, and renew within me a right spirit." Then the problem would be solved, and having peace with God through the blood of Christ, the love of God would be shed abroad in your hearts, through the Holy Ghost given unto you. [Footnote 1: John ix. 41.] [Footnote 2: Even if we should widen the meaning of the word "honest," in the above-mentioned dictum of Pope, and make it include the Latin "honestum," the same objection would lie against dictum. Honor and high-mindedness towards man is not love and reverence towards God. The spirit of chivalry is not the spirit of Christianity.] THE SINFULNESS OF ORIGINAL SIN. MATTHEW xix. 20.--"The young man saith unto him, All these things have I kept from my youth up: what lack I yet?" In the preceding discourse from these words, we discussed that form and aspect of sin which consists in "coming short" of the Divine Law; or, as the Westminster Creed states it, in a "want of conformity" unto it. The deep and fundamental sin of the young ruler, we found, lay in what he lacked. When our Lord tested him, he proved to be utterly destitute of love to God. His soul was a complete vacuum, in reference to that great holy affection which fills the hearts of all the good beings before the throne of God, and without which no creature can stand, or will wish to stand, in the Divine presence. The young ruler, though outwardly moral and amiable, when searched in the inward parts was found wanting in the sum and substance of religion. He did not love God; and he did love himself and his possessions. What man has omitted to do, what man is destitute of,--this is a species of sin which he does not sufficiently consider, and which is weighing him down to perdition. The unregenerate person when pressed to repent of his sins, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, often beats back the kind effort, by a question like that which Pilate put to the infuriated Jews: "Why, what evil have I done?" It is the subject of his actual and overt transgressions that comes first into his thoughts, and, like the young ruler, he tells his spiritual friend and adviser that he has kept all the commandments from his youth up. The conviction of sin would be more common if the natural man would consider his _failures_; if he would look into his heart and perceive what he is _destitute_ of, and into his conduct and see what he has left _undone_. In pursuing this subject, we propose to show, still further, the guiltiness of every man, from the fact that he _lacks the original righteousness that once belonged to him_. We shall endeavor to prove that every child of Adam is under condemnation, or, in the words of Christ, that "the wrath of God abides upon him" (John iii. 36), because he is not possessed of that pure and perfect character which, his Maker gave him in the beginning. Man is culpable for not continuing to stand upon the high and sinless position, in which he was originally placed. When the young ruler's question is put to the natural man, and the inquiry is made as to his defects and deficiency, it is invariably discovered that he lacks the image of God in which he was created. And for a rational being to be destitute of the image of God is sin, guilt, and condemnation, because every rational being has once received this image. God has the right to demand from every one of his responsible creatures, all that the creature _might_ be, had he retained possession of the endowments which he received at creation, and had he employed them with fidelity. The perfect gifts and capacities originally bestowed upon man, and not the mutilated and damaged powers subsequently arising from a destructive act of self-will, furnish the proper rule of measurement, in estimating human merit or demerit. The faculties of intelligence and will as _unfallen_, and not as fallen, determine the amount of holiness and of service that may be demanded, upon principles of strict justice, from every individual. All that man "comes short" of this is so much sin, guilt, and condemnation. When the great Sovereign and Judge looks down from His throne of righteousness and equity, upon any one of the children of men, He considers what that creature was by _creation_, and compares his present character and conduct with the character with which he was originally endowed, and the conduct that would naturally have flowed therefrom. God made man holy and perfect. God created man in his own image (Gen. i. 26), "endued with knowledge, righteousness, and true holiness, having the law of God written in his heart, and power to fulfil it." This is the statement of the Creed which we accept as a fair and accurate digest of the teachings of Revelation, respecting the primitive character of man, and his original righteousness. And all evangelical creeds, however they may differ from each other in their definitions of original righteousness, and their estimate of the perfections and powers granted to man by creation, do yet agree that he stood higher when he came from the hand of God than he now stands; that man's actual character and conduct do not come up to man's created power and capacities. Solemn and condemning as it is, it is yet a fact, that inasmuch as every man was originally made in the holy image of God, he ought, this very instant to be perfectly holy. He ought to be standing upon a position that is as high above his actual position, as the heavens are high above the earth. He ought to be possessed of a moral perfection without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing. He ought to be as he was, when created in righteousness and true holiness. He ought to be dwelling high up on those lofty and glorious heights where he was stationed by the benevolent hand of his Maker, instead of wallowing in those low depths where he has fallen by an act of apostasy and rebellion. Nothing short of this satisfies the obligations that are resting upon him. An imperfect holiness, such as the Christian is possessed of while here upon earth, does not come up to the righteous requirement of the moral law; and certainly that kind of moral character which belongs to the natural man is still farther off from the sum-total that is demanded. Let us press this truth, that we may feel its convicting and condemning energy. When our Maker speaks to us upon the subject of His claims and our obligations, He tells us that when we came forth from nonentity into existence, from His hand, we were well endowed, and well furnished. He tells us distinctly, that He did not create us the depraved and sinful beings that we now are. He tells us that these earthly affections, this carnal mind, this enmity towards the Divine law, this disinclination towards religion and spiritual concerns, this absorbing love of the world and this supreme love of self,--that these were not implanted or infused into the soul by our wise, holy, and good Creator. This is not His work. This is no part of the furniture with which mankind were set up for an everlasting existence. "God saw everything that he had made, and behold it was very good." (Gen. i. 31). We acknowledge the mystery that overhangs the union and connection of all men with the first man. We know that this corruption of man's nature, and this sinfulness of his heart, does indeed, appear at the very beginning of his individual life. He is conceived in sin, and shapen in iniquity (Ps. li. 5). This selfish disposition, and this alienation of the heart from God, is _native_ depravity, is _inborn_ corruption. This we know both from Revelation, and observation. But we also know, from the same infallible Revelation, that though man is born a sinner from the sinful Adam, he was created a saint in the holy Adam. By origin he is holy, and by descent he is sinful; because there has intervened, between his creation and his birth, that "offence of one man whereby all men were made sinners" (Rom. v. 18, 19). Though we cannot unravel the whole mystery of this subject, yet if we accept the revealed fact, and concede that God did originally make man in His own image, in righteousness and true holiness, and that man has since unmade himself, by the act of apostasy and rebellion,[1]--if we take this as the true and correct statement of the facts in the case, then we can see how and why it is, that God has claims upon His creature, man, that extend to what this creature originally was and was capable of becoming, and not merely to what he now is, and is able to perform. When, therefore, the young ruler's question, "What lack I?" is asked and answered upon a broad scale, each and every man must say: "I lack original righteousness; I lack the holiness with which God created man; I lack that perfection of character which belonged to my rational and immortal nature coming fresh from the hand of God in the person of Adam; I lack all that I should now be possessed of, had that nature not apostatized from its Maker and its Sovereign." And when God forms His estimate of man's obligations; when He lays judgment to the line, and righteousness to the plummet; He goes back to the _beginning_, He goes back to _creation_, and demands from His rational and immortal creature that perfect service which, he was capable of rendering by creation, but which now he is unable to render because of subsequent apostasy. For, God cannot adjust His demands to the alterations which sinful man makes in himself. This would be to annihilate all demands and obligations. A sliding-scale would be introduced, by this method, that would reduce human duty by degrees to a minimum, where it would disappear. For, the more sinful a creature becomes, the less inclined, and consequently the less able does he become to obey the law of God. If, now, the Eternal Judge shapes His requisitions in accordance with the shifting character of His creature, and lowers His law down just as fast as the sinner enslaves himself to lust and sin, it is plain that sooner or later all moral obligation will run out; and whenever the creature becomes totally enslaved to self and flesh, there will no longer be any claims resting upon him. But this cannot be so. "For the kingdom of heaven,"--says our Lord,--"is as a man travelling into a far country, who called his own servants and delivered unto them his goods. And unto one he gave five talents, and to another two, and to another one; and straightway took his journey." When the settlement was made. Each and every one of the parties was righteously summoned to account for all that had originally been intrusted to him, and to show a faithful improvement of the same. If any one of the servants had been found to have "lacked" a part, or the whole, of the original treasure, because he had culpably lost it, think you that the fact that it was now gone from his possession, and was past recovery, would have been accepted as a valid excuse from the original obligations imposed upon him? In like manner, the fact, that man cannot reinstate himself in his original condition of holiness and blessedness, from which he has fallen by apostasy, will not suffice to justify him before God for being in a helpless state of sin and misery, or to give him any claims upon God for deliverance from it. God can and does _pity_ him, in his ruined and lost estate, and if the creature will cast himself upon His _mercy_, acknowledging the righteousness of the entire claims of God upon him for a sinless perfection and a perfect service, he will meet and find mercy. But if he takes the ground that he does not owe such an immense debt as this, and that God has no right to demand from him, in his apostate and helpless condition, the same perfection of character and obedience which holy Adam possessed and rendered, and which the unfallen angels possess and render, God will leave him to the workings of conscience, and the operations of stark unmitigated law and justice. "The kingdom of heaven,"--says our Lord,--"is likened unto a certain king which would take account of his servants. And when he had begun to reckon, one was brought unto him which owed him ten thousand talents; but forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife, and children, and all that he had, and payment to be made. The servant therefore fell down, and worshipped him, saying, Lord, have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. Then the lord of that servant was moved with compassion, and loosed him, and forgave him the debt" (Matt, xviii. 28-27). But suppose that that servant had _disputed_ the claim, and had put in an appeal to justice instead of an appeal to mercy, upon the ground that inasmuch as he had lost his property and had nothing to pay with, therefore he was not obligated to pay, think you that the king would have conceded the equity of the claim? On the contrary, he would have entered into no argument in so plain a case, but would have "delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him." So likewise shall the heavenly Father do also unto you, and to every man, who attempts to diminish the original claim of God to a perfect obedience and service, by pleading the fall of man, the corruption of human nature, the strength of sinful inclination and affections, and the power of earthly temptation. All these are man's work, and not that of the Creator. This helplessness and bondage grows directly out of the nature of sin. "Whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin. Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves slaves to obey, his slaves ye are to whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness?" (John viii. 34; Rom. vi. 16). In view of the subject as thus discussed, we invite attention to some practical conclusions that flow directly out of it. For, though we have been speaking upon one of the most difficult themes in Christian theology, namely man's creation in holiness and his loss of holiness by the apostasy in Adam, yet we have at the same time been speaking of one of the most humbling, and practically profitable, doctrines in the whole circle of revealed truth. We never shall arrive at any profound sense of sin, unless we know and feel our guilt and corruption by nature; and we shall never arrive at any profound sense of our guilt and corruption by nature, unless we know and understand the original righteousness and innocence in which we were first created. We can measure the great depth of the abyss into which, we have fallen, only by looking up to those great heights in the garden of Eden, upon which our nature once stood beautiful and glorious, the very image and likeness of our Creator. 1. We remark then, in the first place, that it is the duty of every man _to humble himself on account of his lack of original righteousness, and to repent of it as sin before God._ One of the articles of the Presbyterian Confession of Faith reads thus: _Every_ sin, both original and actual, being a transgression of the righteous law of God, and contrary thereunto, doth, in its own nature, bring _guilt_ upon the sinner, whereby he is "bound over to the wrath of God, and curse of the law, and so made subject to death, with all miseries spiritual, temporal, and eternal."[2] The Creed which we accept summons us to repent of original as well as actual sin; and it defines original sin to be "the want of original righteousness, together with the corruption of the whole nature." The want of original righteousness, then, is a ground of condemnation, and therefore a reason for shame, and godly sorrow. It is something which man once had, ought still to have, but now lacks; and therefore is ill-deserving, for the very same reason that the young ruler's lack of supreme love to God was ill-deserving. If we acknowledge the validity of the distinction between a sin of omission and a sin of commission, and concede that each alike is culpable,[3] we shall find no difficulty with this demand of the Creed. Why should not you and I mourn over the total want of the image of God in our hearts, as much as over any other form and species of sin? This image of God consists in holy reverence. When we look into our hearts, and find no holy reverence there, ought we not to be filled with shame and sorrow? This image of God consists in filial and supreme affection for God, such as the young ruler lacked; and when we look into our hearts, and find not a particle of supreme love to God in them, ought we not to repent of this original, this deep-seated, this innate depravity? This image of God, again, which was lost in our apostasy, consisted in humble constant trust in God; and when we search our souls, and perceive that there is nothing of this spirit in them, but on the contrary a strong and overmastering disposition to trust in ourselves, and to distrust our Maker, ought not this discovery to waken in us the very same feeling that Isaiah gave expression to, when he said that the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint; the very same feeling that David gave expression to, when he cried: "Behold I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me?" This is to repent of original sin, and there is no mystery or absurdity about it. It is to turn the eye inward, and see what is _lacking_ in our heart and affections; and not merely what of outward and actual transgressions we have committed. Those whose idea of moral excellence is like that of the young ruler; those who suppose holiness to consist merely in the outward observance of the commandments of the second table; those who do not look into the depths of their nature, and contrast the total corruption that is there, with the perfect and positive righteousness that ought to be there, and that was there by creation,--all such will find the call of the Creed to repent of original sin as well as of actual, a perplexity and an impossibility. But every man who knows that the substance of piety consists in positive and holy affections,--in holy reverence, love and trust,--and who discovers that these are wanting in him by nature, though belonging to him by creation, will mourn in deep contrition and self-abasement over that act of apostasy by which this great change in human character, this great lack was brought about. 2. In the second place, it follows from the subject we have discussed, that every man must, by some method, _recover his original righteousness, or be ruined forever_. "Without holiness no man shall see the Lord." No rational creature is fit to appear in the presence of his Maker, unless he is as pure and perfect as he was originally made. Holy Adam was prepared by his creation in the image of God, to hold blessed communion with God, and if he and his posterity had never lost this image, they would forever be in fellowship with their Creator and Sovereign. Holiness, and holiness alone, enables the creature to stand with angelic tranquillity, in the presence of Him before whom the heavens and the earth flee away. The loss of original righteousness, therefore, was the loss of the wedding garment; it was the loss of the only robe in which the creature could appear at the banquet of God. Suppose that one of the posterity of sinful Adam, destitute of holy love reverence and faith, lacking positive and perfect righteousness, should be introduced into the seventh heavens, and there behold the infinite Jehovah. Would he not feel, with a misery and a shame that could not be expressed, that he was naked? that he was utterly unfit to appear in such a Presence? No wonder that our first parents, after their apostasy, felt that they were unclothed. They were indeed stripped of their character, and had not a rag of righteousness to cover them. No wonder that they hid themselves from the intolerable purity and brightness of the Most High. Previously, they had felt no such emotion. They were "not ashamed," we are told. And the reason lay in the fact that, before their apostasy, they were precisely as they were made. They were endowed with the image of God; and their original righteousness and perfect holiness qualified them to stand before their Maker, and to hold blessed intercourse with Him. But the instant they lost their created endowment of holiness, they were conscious that they lacked that indispensable something wherewith to appear before God. And precisely so is it, with their posterity. Whatever a man's theory of the future life may be, he must be insane, if he supposes that he is fit to appear before God, and to enter the society of heaven, if destitute of holiness, and wanting the Divine image. When the spirit of man returns to God who gave it, it must return as good as it came from His hands, or it will be banished from the Divine presence. Every human soul, when it goes back to its Maker, must carry with it a righteousness, to say the very least, equal to that in which it was originally created, or it will be cast out as an unprofitable and wicked servant. _All_ the talents entrusted must be returned; and returned with usury. A modern philosopher and poet represents the suicide as justifying the taking of his own life, upon the ground that he was not asked in the beginning, whether he wanted life. He had no choice whether he would come into existence or not; existence was forced upon him; and therefore he had a right to put an end to it, if he so pleased. To this, the reply is made, that he ought to return his powers and faculties to the Creator in as _good condition_ as he received them; that he had no right to mutilate and spoil them by abuse, and then fling the miserable relics of what was originally a noble creation, in the face of the Creator. In answer to the suicide's proposition to give back his spirit to God who gave it, the poet represents God as saying to him: "Is't returned as 'twas sent? Is't no worse for the wear? Think first what you are! Call to mind what you were! I gave you innocence, I gave you hope, Gave health, and genius, and an ample scope. Return you me guilt, lethargy, despair? Make out the invent'ry; inspect, compare! Then die,--if die you dare!"[4] Yes, this is true and solemn reasoning. You and I, and every man, must by some method, or other, go back to God as good as we came forth from Him. We must regain our original righteousness; we must be reinstated in our primal relation to God, and our created condition; or there is nothing in store for us, but the blackness of darkness. We certainly cannot stand in the judgment clothed with original sin, instead of original righteousness; full of carnal and selfish affections, instead of pure and heavenly affections. This great lack, this great vacuum, in our character, must by some method be filled up with solid, and everlasting excellencies, or the same finger that wrote, in letters of fire, upon the wall of the Babylonian monarch, the awful legend: "Thou art weighed in the balance, and art found wanting," will write it in letters of fire upon our own rational spirit. There is but one method, by which man's original righteousness and innocency can be regained; and this method you well know. The blood of Jesus Christ sprinkled by the Holy Ghost, upon your guilty conscience, reinstates you in innocency. When that is applied, there is no more guilt upon you, than there was upon Adam the instant he came from the creative hand. "There is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus." Who is he that condemneth, when it is Christ that died, and God that justifies? And when the same Holy Spirit enters your soul with renewing power, and carries forward His work of sanctification to its final completion, your original righteousness returns again, and you are again clothed in that spotless robe with which your nature was invested, on that sixth day of creation, when the Lord God said, "Let us make man in our image, and after our likeness." Ponder these truths, and what is yet more imperative, _act_ upon them. Remember that you must, by some method, become a perfect creature, in order to become a blessed creature in heaven. Without holiness you cannot see the Lord. You must recover the character which you have lost, and the peace with God in which you were created. Your spirit, when it returns to God, must by some method be made equal to what it was when it came forth from Him. And there is no method, but the method of redemption by the blood and righteousness of Christ. Men are running to and fro after other methods. The memories of a golden age, a better humanity than they now know of, haunt them; and they sigh for the elysium that is gone. One sends you to letters, and culture, for your redemption. Another tells you that morality, or philosophy, will lift you again to those paradisaical heights that tower high above your straining vision. But miserable comforters are they all. No golden age returns; no peace with God or self is the result of such instrumentality. The conscience is still perturbed, the forebodings still overhang the soul like a black cloud, and the heart is as throbbing and restless as ever. With resoluteness, then, turn away from these inadequate, these feeble methods, and adopt the method of God Almighty. Turn away with contempt from human culture, and finite forces, as the instrumentality for the redemption of the soul which is precious, and which ceaseth forever if it is unredeemed. Go with confidence, and courage, and a rational faith, to God Almighty, to God the Redeemer. He hath power. He is no feeble and finite creature. He waves a mighty weapon, and sweats great drops of blood; travelling in the greatness of His strength. Hear His words of calm confidence and power: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." [Footnote 1: The Augustinian doctrine, that the entire human species was created on the sixth day, existed as a _nature_ (not as individuals) in the first human pair, acted in and fell with them in the first transgression, and us thus fallen and vitiated by an act of self-will has been procreated or individualized, permits the theologian, to say that all men are equally concerned in the origin of sin, and to charge the guilt of its origin upon all alike.] [Footnote 2: CONFESSION OF FAITH. VI. vi.] [Footnote 3: One of the points of difference between the Protestant and the Papist, when the dogmatic position of each was taken, related to the guilt of original sin,--the former affirming, and the latter denying. It is also one of the points of difference between Calvinism and Arminianism.] [Footnote 4: Coleridge; Works, VII. 295.] THE APPROBATION OF GOODNESS IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. ROMANS ii. 21--23.--"Thou therefore which, teachest another, teachest Thou not thyself? thou that preachest a man should not steal, dost thou steal? thou that sayest a man should not commit adultery, dost thou commit adultery? thou that abhorrest idols, dost thou commit sacrilege? thou that makest thy boast of the law, through, breaking the law dishonorest thou God?" The apostle Paul is a very keen and cogent reasoner. Like a powerful logician who is confident that he has the truth upon his side, and like a pureminded man who has no sinister ends to gain, he often takes his stand upon the same ground with his opponent, adopts his positions, and condemns him out of his own mouth. In the passage from which the text is taken, he brings the Jew in guilty before God, by employing the Jew's own claims and statements. "Behold thou art called a Jew, and restest in the law, and makest thy boast of God, and knowest his will, and approvest the things that are more excellent, and art confident that thou thyself art a guide of the blind, a light of them which are in darkness, an instructor of the foolish. Thou therefore which teachest another, teachest thou not thyself? thou that preachest that a man should not steal, dost thou steal? thou that makest thy boast of the law, through breaking the law dishonorest thou God?" As if he had said: "You claim to be one of God's chosen people, to possess a true knowledge of Him and His law; why do you not act up to this knowledge? why do you not by your character and conduct prove the claim to be a valid one?" The apostle had already employed this same species of argument against the Gentile world. In the first chapter of this Epistle to the Romans, St. Paul demonstrates that the pagan world is justly condemned by God, because, they too, like the Jew, knew more than they practised. He affirms that the Greek and Roman world, like the Jewish people, "when they knew God, glorified him not as God, neither were thankful;" that as "they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind;" and that "knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things" as he had just enumerated in that awful catalogue of pagan vices "are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them." The apostle does not for an instant concede, that the Gentile can put in the plea that he was so entirely ignorant of the character and law of God, that he ought to be excused from the obligation to love and obey Him. He expressly affirms that where there is absolutely no law, and no knowledge of law, there can be no transgression; and yet affirms that in the day of judgment every mouth must be stopped, and the whole world must plead guilty before God. It is indeed true, that he teaches that there is a difference in the degrees of knowledge which the Jew and the Gentile respectively possess. The light of revealed religion, in respect to man's duty and obligations, is far clearer than the light of nature, and increases the responsibilities of those who enjoy it, and the condemnation of those who abuse it; but the light of nature is clear and true as far as it goes, and is enough to condemn every soul outside of the pale of Revelation. For, in the day of judgment, there will not be a single human creature who can look his Judge in the eye, and say: "I acted up to every particle of moral light that I enjoyed; I never thought a thought, felt a feeling, or did a deed, for which my conscience reproached me." It follows from this, that the language of the apostle, in the text, may be applied to every man. The argument that has force for the Jew has force for the Gentile. "Thou that teachest another, teachest thou not thyself? thou that preachest that a man should not steal, dost thou steal?" You who know the character and claims of God, and are able to state them to another, why do you not revere and obey them in your own person? You who approve of the law of God as pure and perfect, why do you not conform your own heart and conduct to it? You who perceive the excellence of piety in another, you who praise and admire moral excellence in your fellow-man, why do you not seek after it, and toil after it in your own heart? In paying this tribute of approbation to the character of a God whom you do not yourself love and serve, and to a piety in your neighbor which you do not yourself possess and cultivate, are you not writing down your own condemnation? How can you stand before the judgment-seat of God, after having in this manner confessed through your whole life upon earth that God is good, and His law is perfect, and yet through that whole life have gone counter to your own confession, neither loving that God, nor obeying that law? "To him that knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin." (James iv. 17.) The text then, together with the chains of reasoning that are connected with it, leads us to consider the fact, that a man may admire and praise moral excellence without possessing or practising it himself; that _the approbation of goodness is not the same as the love of it_.[1] I. This is proved, in the first place, from the _testimony_ of both God and man. The assertions and reasonings of the apostle Paul have already been alluded to, and there are many other passages of Scripture which plainly imply that men may admire and approve of a virtue which they do not practise. Indeed, the language of our Lord respecting the Scribes and Pharisees, may be applied to disobedient mankind at large: "Whatsoever they bid you observe, that observe and do; but do ye not after their works: for they say, and do not." (Matt, xxiii. 3.) The testimony of man is equally explicit. That is a very remarkable witness which the poet Ovid bears to this truth. "I see the right,"--he says,--"and approve of it, but I follow and practise the wrong." This is the testimony of a profligate man of pleasure, in whom the light of nature had been greatly dimmed in the darkness of sin and lust. But he had not succeeded in annihilating his conscience, and hence, in a sober hour, he left upon record his own damnation. He expressly informed the whole cultivated classical world, who were to read his polished numbers, that he that had taught others had not taught himself; that he who had said that a man should not commit adultery had himself committed adultery; that an educated Roman who never saw the volume of inspiration, and never heard of either Moses or Christ, nevertheless approved of and praised a virtue that he never put in practice. And whoever will turn to the pages of Horace, a kindred spirit to Ovid both in respect to a most exquisite taste and a most refined earthliness, will frequently find the same confession breaking out. Nay, open the volumes of Rousseau, and even of Voltaire, and read their panegyrics of virtue, their eulogies of goodness. What are these, but testimonies that they, too, saw the right and did the wrong. It is true, that the eulogy is merely sentimentalism, and is very different from the sincere and noble tribute which a good man renders to goodness. Still, it is valid testimony to the truth that the mere approbation of goodness is not the love of it. It is true, that these panegyrics of virtue, when read in the light of Rousseau's sensuality and Voltaire's malignity, wear a dead and livid hue, like objects seen in the illumination from phosphorus or rotten wood; yet, nevertheless, they are visible and readable, and testify as distinctly as if they issued from elevated and noble natures, that the teachings of man's conscience are not obeyed by man's heart,--that a man may praise and admire virtue, while he loves and practises vice. II. A second proof that the approbation of goodness is not the love of it is found in the fact, that _it is impossible not to approve of goodness_, while it is possible not to love it. The structure of man's conscience is such, that he can commend only the right; but the nature of his will is such, that he may be conformed to the right or the wrong. The conscience can give only one judgment; but the heart and will are capable of two kinds of affection, and two courses of action. Every rational creature is shut up, by his moral sense, to but one moral conviction. He must approve the right and condemn the wrong. He cannot approve the wrong and condemn the right; any more than he can perceive that two and two make five. The human conscience is a rigid and stationary faculty. Its voice may be stifled or drowned, for a time; but it can never be made to titter two discordant voices. It is for this reason, that the approbation of goodness is necessary and universal. Wicked men and wicked angels must testify that benevolence is right, and malevolence is wrong; though they hate the former, and love the latter. But it is not so with the human _will_. This is not a rigid and stationary faculty. It is capable of turning this way, and that way. It was created holy, and it turned from holiness to sin, in Adam's apostasy. And now, under the operation of the Divine Spirit, it turns back again, it _converts_ from sin to holiness. The will of man is thus capable of two courses of action, while his conscience is capable of only one judgment; and hence he can see and approve the right, yet love and practise the wrong. If a man's conscience changed along with his heart and his will, so that when he began to love and practise sin, he at the same time began to approve of sin, the case would be different. If, when Adam apostatised from God, his conscience at that moment began to take sides with his sin, instead of condemning it, then, indeed, neither Ovid, nor Horace, nor Rousseau, nor any other one of Adam's posterity, would have been able to say: "I see the right and _approve_ of it, while I follow the wrong." But it was not so. After apostasy, the conscience of Adam passed the same judgment upon sin that it did before. Adam heard its terrible voice speaking in concert with the voice of God, and hid himself. He never succeeded in bringing his conscience over to the side of his heart and will, and neither has any one of his posterity. It is impossible to do this. Satan himself, after millenniums of sin, still finds that his conscience, that the accusing and condemning law written on the heart, is too strong for him to alter, too rigid for him to bend. The utmost that either he, or any creature, can do, is to drown its verdict for a time in other sounds, only to hear the thunder-tones again, waxing longer and louder like the trumpet of Sinai. Having thus briefly shown that the approbation of goodness is not the love of it, we proceed to draw some conclusions from the truth. 1. In the first place, it follows from this subject, that _the mere workings of conscience are no proof of holiness_. When, after the commission of a wrong act, the soul of a man is filled with self-reproach, he must not take it for granted that this is the stirring of a better nature within him, and is indicative of some remains of original righteousness. This reaction of conscience against his disobedience of law is as necessary, and unavoidable, as the action of his eyelids under the blaze of noon, and is worthy neither of praise nor blame, so far as he is concerned. It does not imply any love for holiness, or any hatred of sin. Nay, it may exist without any sorrow for sin, as in the instance of the hardened transgressor who writhes under its awful power, but never sheds a penitential tear, or sends up a sigh for mercy. The distinction between the human conscience, and the human heart, is as wide as between the human intellect, and the human heart.[2] We never think of confounding the functions and operations of the understanding with those of the heart. We know that an idea or a conception, is totally different from an emotion, or a feeling. How often do we remark, that a man may have an intellectual perception, without any correspondent experience or feeling in his heart. How continually does the preacher urge his hearers to bring their hearts into harmony with their understandings, so that their intellectual orthodoxy may become their practical piety. Now, all this is true of the distinction between the conscience and the heart. The conscience is an _intellectual_ faculty, and by that better elder philosophy which comprehended all the powers of the soul under the two general divisions of understanding and will, would be placed in the domain of the understanding. Conscience is a _light_, as we so often call it. It is not a _life_; it is not a source of life. No man's heart and will can be renewed or changed by his conscience. Conscience is simply a law. Conscience is merely legislative; it is never executive. It simply says to the heart and will: "Do thus, feel thus," but it gives no assistance, and imparts no inclination to obey its own command. Those, therefore, commit a grave error both in philosophy and religion, who confound the conscience with the heart, and suppose that because there is in every man self-reproach and remorse after the commission of sin, therefore there is the germ of holiness within him. Holiness is _love_, the positive affection of the heart. It is a matter of the heart and the will. But this remorse is purely an affair of the conscience, and the heart has no connection with it. Nay, it appears in its most intense form, in those beings whose feelings emotions and determinations are in utmost opposition to God and goodness. The purest remorse in the universe is to be found in those wretched beings whose emotional and active powers, whose heart and will, are in the most bitter hostility to truth and righteousness. How, then, can the mere reproaches and remorse of conscience be regarded as evidence of piety? 2. But, we may go a step further than this, though in the same general direction, and remark, in the second place, that _elevated moral sentiments are no certain proof of piety toward God and man_. These, too, like remorse of conscience, spring out of the intellectual structure, and may exist without any affectionate love of God in the heart. There is a species of nobleness and beauty in moral excellence that makes an involuntary and unavoidable impression. When the Christian martyr seals his devotion to God and truth with his blood; when a meek and lowly disciple of Christ clothes his life of poverty, and self-denial, with a daily beauty greater than that of the lilies or of Solomon's array; when the poor widow with feeble and trembling steps comes up to the treasury of the Lord, and casts in all her living; when any pure and spiritual act is performed out of solemn and holy love of God and man, it is impossible not to be filled with sentiments of admiration, and oftentimes, with an enthusiastic glow of soul. We see this in the impression which the character of Christ universally makes. There are multitudes of men, to whom that wonderful sinless life shines aloft like a star. But they do not _imitate_ it. They admire it, but they do not love it.[3] The spiritual purity and perfection of the Son of God rays out a beauty which really attracts their cultivated minds, and their refined taste; but when He says to them: "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart; take up thy cross daily and follow me;" they turn away sorrowful, like the rich young man in the Gospel,--sorrowful, because their sentiments like his are elevated, and they have a certain awe of eternal things, and know that religion is the highest concern; and sorrowful, because their hearts and wills are still earthly, there is no divine love in their souls, self is still their centre, and the self-renunciation that is required of them is repulsive. Religion is submission,--absolute submission to God,--and no amount of mere admiration of religion can be a substitute for it. As a thoughtful observer looks abroad over society, he sees a very interesting class who are not far from the kingdom of God; who, nevertheless, are not _within_ that kingdom, and who, therefore, if they remain where they are, are as certainly lost as if they were at an infinite distance from the kingdom. The homely proverb applies to them: "A miss is as good as a mile." They are those who suppose that elevated moral sentiments, an aesthetic pleasure in noble acts or noble truths, a glow and enthusiasm of the soul at the sight or the recital of examples of Christian virtue and Christian grace, a disgust at the gross and repulsive forms and aspects of sin,--that such merely intellectual and aesthetic experiences as these are piety itself. All these may be in the soul, without any godly sorrow over sin, any cordial trust in Christ's blood, any self-abasement before God, any daily conflict with indwelling corruption, any daily cross-bearing and toil for Christ's dear sake. These latter, constitute the essence of the Christian experience, and without them that whole range of elevated sentiments and amiable qualities, to which we have alluded, only ministers to the condemnation instead of the salvation of the soul. For, the question of the text comes home with solemn force, to all such persons. "Thou that makest thy boast of the law, through breaking of the law, dishonorest thou God?" If the beauty of virtue, and the grandeur of truth, and the sublimity of invisible things, have been able to make such an impression upon your intellects, and your tastes,--upon that part of your constitution which is fixed and stationary, which responds organically to such objects, and which is not the seat of moral character,--then why is there not a corresponding influence and impression made by them upon your heart? If you can admire and praise them, in this style, why do you not _love_ them? Why is it, that when the character of Christ bows your intellect, it does not bend your will, and sway your affections? Must there not be an inveterate opposition and resistance in the _heart_? in the heart which can refuse submission to such high claims, when so distinctly seen? in the heart which can refuse to take the yoke, and learn of a Teacher who has already made such an impression upon the conscience and the understanding? The human heart is, as the prophet affirms, _desperately_ wicked, _desperately_ selfish. And perhaps its self-love is never more plainly seen, than in such instances as those of that moral and cultivated young man mentioned in the Gospel, and that class in modern society who correspond to him. Nowhere is the difference between the approbation of goodness, and the love of it, more apparent. In these instances the approbation is of a high order. It is refined and sublimated by culture and taste. It is not stained by the temptations of low life, and gross sin. If there ever could be a case, in which the intellectual approbation of goodness would develop and pass over into the affectionate and hearty love of it, we should expect to find it here. But it is not found. The young man goes away,--sorrowful indeed,--but he goes away from the Redeemer of the world, _never to return_. The amiable, the educated, the refined, pass on from year to year, and, so far as the evangelic sorrow, and the evangelic faith are concerned, like the dying Beaufort depart to judgment making no sign. We hear their praises of Christian men, and Christian graces, and Christian actions; we enjoy the grand and swelling sentiments with which, perhaps, they enrich the common literature of the world; but we never hear them cry: "God be merciful to me a sinner; O Lamb of God, that takest away the sin of the world, grant me thy peace; Thou, O God, art the strength of my heart, and my portion forever." 3. In the third place, it follows from this subject, that in order to holiness in man there must be a change in his _heart and will_. If our analysis is correct, no possible modification of either his conscience, or his intellect, would produce holiness. Holiness is an affection of the heart, and an inclination of the will. It is the love and practice of goodness, and not the mere approbation and admiration of it. Now, suppose that the conscience should be stimulated to the utmost, and remorse should be produced until it filled the soul to overflowing, would there be in this any of that gentle and blessed affection for God and goodness, that heartfelt love of them, which is the essence of religion? Or, suppose that the intellect merely were impressed by the truth, and very clear perceptions of the Christian system and of the character and claims of its Author were imparted, would the result be any different? If the _heart_ and _will_ were unaffected; if the influences and impressions were limited merely to the conscience and the understanding; would not the seat of the difficulty still be untouched? The command is not: "Give me thy conscience," but, "Give me thy _heart_." Hence, that regeneration of which our Lord speaks in his discourse with Nicodemus is not a radical change of the conscience, but of the _will_ and _affections_. We have already seen that the conscience cannot undergo a radical change. It can never be made to approve what it once condemned, and to condemn what it once approved. It is the stationary legislative faculty, and is, of necessity, always upon the side of law and of God. Hence, the apostle Paul sought to commend the truth which he preached, to every man's conscience, knowing that every man's conscience was with him. The conscience, therefore, does not need to be converted, that is to say, made opposite to what it is. It is indeed greatly stimulated, and rendered vastly more energetic, by the regeneration of the heart; but this is not radically to alter it. This is to develop and educate the conscience; and when holiness is implanted in the will and affections, by the grace of the Spirit, we find that both the conscience and understanding are wonderfully unfolded and strengthened. But they undergo no revolution or conversion. The judgments of the conscience are the same after regeneration, that they were before; only more positive and emphatic. The convictions of the understanding continue, as before, to be upon the side of truth; only they are more clear and powerful. The radical change, therefore, must be wrought in the heart and will. These are capable of revolutions and radical changes. They can apostatise in Adam, and be regenerated in Christ. They are not immovably fixed and settled, by their constitutional structure, in only one way. They have once turned from holiness to sin; and now they must be turned back again from sin to holiness. They must become exactly contrary to what they now are. The heart must love what it now hates, and must hate what it now loves. The will must incline to what it now disinclines, and disincline to what it now inclines. But this is a radical change, a total change, an entire revolution. If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is a new creature, in his will and affections, in his inclination and disposition. While, therefore, the conscience must continue to give the same old everlasting testimony as before, and never reverse its judgments in the least, the affections and will, the pliant, elastic, plastic part of man, the seat of vitality, of emotion, the seat of character, the fountain out of which proceed the evil thoughts or the good thoughts,--this executive, emotive, responsible part of man, must be reversed, converted, radically changed into its own contrary. So long, therefore, as this change remains to be effected in an individual, there is and can be no _holiness_ within him,--none of that holiness without which no man can see the Lord. There may be within him a very active and reproaching conscience; there may be intellectual orthodoxy and correctness in religious convictions; he may cherish elevated moral sentiments, and many attractive qualities springing out of a cultivated taste and a jealous self-respect may appear in his character; but unless he _loves_ God and man out of a pure heart fervently, and unless his will is entirely and sweetly submissive to the Divine will, so that he can say: "Father not my will, but thine be done," he is still a natural man. He is still destitute of the spiritual mind, and to him it must be said, as it was to Nicodemus: "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." The most important side of his being is still alienated from God. The heart with its affections; the will with its immense energies,--the entire active and emotive portions of his nature,--are still earthly, unsubmissive, selfish, and sinful. 4. In the fourth, and last place, we see from this subject _the necessity of the operation of the Holy Spirit, in order to holiness in man_. There is no part of man's complex being which is less under his own control, than his own will, and his own affections. This he discovers, as soon as he attempts to _convert_ them; as soon as he tries to produce a radical change in them. Let a man whose will, from centre to circumference, is set upon self and the world, attempt to reverse it, and set it with the same strength and energy upon God and heaven, and he will know that his will is too strong for him, and that he cannot overcome himself. Let a man whose affections cleave like those of Dives to earthly good, and find their sole enjoyment in earthly pleasures, attempt to change them into their own contraries, so that they shall cleave to God, and take a real delight in heavenly things,--let a carnal man try to revolutionize himself into a spiritual man,--and he will discover that the affections and feelings of his heart are beyond his control. And the reason of this is plain. The affections and will of a man show what he _loves_, and what he is _inclined_ to. A sinful man cannot, therefore, overcome his sinful love and inclination, because he cannot _make a beginning_. The instant he attempts to love God, he finds his love of himself in the way. This new love for a new object, which he proposes to originate within himself, is prevented by an old love, which already has possession. This new inclination to heaven and Divine things is precluded by an old inclination, very strong and very set, to earth and earthly things. There is therefore no _starting-point,_ in this affair of self-conversion. He proposes, and he tries, to think a holy thought, but there is a sinful thought already in the mind. He attempts to start out a Christian grace,--say the grace of humility,--but the feeling of pride already stands in the way, and, what is more, remains in the way. He tries to generate that supreme love of God, of which he has heard so much, but the supreme love of himself is ahead of him, and occupies the whole ground. In short, he is baffled at every point in this attempt radically to change his own heart and will, because at every point this heart and will are already committed and determined. Go down as low as he pleases, he finds sin,--_love_ of sin, and _inclination_ to sin. He never reaches a point where these cease; and therefore never reaches a point where he can begin a new love, and a new inclination. The late Mr. Webster was once engaged in a law case, in which he had to meet, upon the opposing side, the subtle and strong understanding of Jeremiah Mason. In one of his conferences with his associate counsel, a difficult point to be managed came to view. After some discussion, without satisfactory results, respecting the best method of handling the difficulty, one of his associates suggested that the point might after all, escape the notice of the opposing counsel. To this, Mr. Webster replied: "Not so; go down as deep as you will, you will find Jeremiah Mason below you." Precisely so in the case of which we are speaking. Go down as low as you please into your heart and will, you will find your _self_ below you; you will find sin not only lying at the door, but lying in the way. If you move in the line of your feelings and affections, you will find earthly feelings and affections ever below you. If you move in the line of your choice and inclination, you will find a sinful choice and inclination ever below you. In chasing your sin through the avenues of your fallen and corrupt soul, you are chasing your horizon; in trying to get clear of it by your own isolated and independent strength, you are attempting (to use the illustration of Goethe, who however employed it for a false purpose) to jump off your own shadow. This, then, is the reason why the heart and will of a sinful man are so entirely beyond his own control. They are _preoccupied_ and _predetermined_, and therefore he cannot make a beginning in the direction of holiness. If he attempts to put forth a holy determination, he finds a sinful one already made and making,--and this determination is _his_ determination, unforced, responsible and guilty. If he tries to start out a holy emotion, he finds a sinful emotion already beating and rankling,--and this emotion is _his_ emotion, unforced, responsible, and guilty. There is no physical necessity resting upon him. Nothing but this love of sin and inclination to self stands in the way of a supreme love of God and holiness; but _it stands in the way._ Nothing but the sinful affection of the heart prevents a man from exercising a holy affection; but _it prevents him effectually_. An evil tree cannot bring forth good fruit; a sinful love and inclination cannot convert itself into a holy love and inclination; Satan cannot cast out Satan. There is need therefore of a Divine operation to renew, to radically change, the heart and will. If they cannot renew themselves, they must _be_ renewed; and there is no power that can reach them but that mysterious energy of the Holy Spirit which like the wind bloweth where it listeth, and we hear the sound thereof, but cannot tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth. The condition of the human heart is utterly hopeless, were it not for the promised influences of the Holy Ghost to regenerate it. There are many reflections suggested by this subject; for it has a wide reach, and would carry us over vast theological spaces, should we attempt to exhaust it. We close with the single remark, that it should be man's first and great aim _to obtain the new heart_. Let him seek this first of all, and all things else will be added unto him. It matters not how active your conscience may be, how clear and accurate your intellectual convictions of truth may be, how elevated may be your moral sentiments and your admiration of virtue, if you are destitute of an _evangelical experience_. Of what value will all these be in the day of judgment, if you have never sorrowed for sin, never appropriated the atonement for sin, and never been inwardly sanctified? Our Lord says to every man: "Either make the tree good, and its fruit good; or else make the tree corrupt, and its fruit corrupt." The _tree itself_ must be made good. The heart and will themselves must be renewed. These are the root and stock into which everything else is grafted; and so long as they remain in their apostate natural condition, the man is sinful and lost, do what else he may. It is indeed true, that such a change as this is beyond your power to accomplish. With man it is impossible; but with God it is a possibility, and a reality. It has actually been wrought in thousands of wills, as stubborn as yours; in millions of hearts, as worldly and selfish as yours. We commend you, therefore, to the Person and Work of the Holy Spirit. We remind you, that He is able to renovate and sweetly incline the obstinate will, to soften and spiritualize the flinty heart. He saith: "I will put a new spirit within you; and I will take the stony heart out of your flesh, and will give you an heart of flesh; that ye may walk in my statutes, and keep mine ordinances, and do them; and ye shall be my people, and I will be your God." Do not listen to these declarations and promises of God supinely; but arise and earnestly _plead_ them. Take words upon your lips, and go before God. Say unto Him: "I am the clay, be _thou_ the potter. Behold thou desirest truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden parts _thou_ shalt make me to know wisdom. I will run in the way of thy commandments, when _thou_ shalt enlarge my heart. Create within me a clean heart, O God, and renew within me a right spirit." _Seek_ for the new heart. _Ask_ for the new heart. _Knock_ for the new heart. "For, if ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him." And in giving the Holy Spirit, He gives the new heart, with all that is included in it, and all that issues from it. [Footnote 1: See, upon this whole subject of conscience as distinguished from will, and of amiable instincts as distinguished from holiness, the profound and discriminating views of EDWARDS: The Nature of Virtue, Chapters v. vi. vii.] [Footnote 2: Compare, on this distinction, the AUTHOR'S' Discourses and Essays, p. 284 sq.] [Footnote 3: The reader will recall the celebrated panegyric upon Christ by Rousseau.] THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. PROVERBS ix. 10.--"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." Luke xii. 4, 5.--"And I say unto you, my friends, Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell; yea, I say unto you, Fear him." The place which the feeling of fear ought to hold in the religious experience of mankind is variously assigned. Theories of religion are continually passing from one extreme to another, according as they magnify or disparage this emotion. Some theological schools are distinguished for their severity, and others for their sentimentalism. Some doctrinal systems fail to grasp the mercy of God with as much vigor and energy as they do the Divine justice, while others melt down everything that is scriptural and self-consistent, and flow along vaguely in an inundation of unprincipled emotions and sensibilities. The same fact meets us in the experience of the individual. We either fear too much, or too little. Having obtained glimpses of the Divine compassion, how prone is the human heart to become indolent and self-indulgent, and to relax something of that earnest effort with which it had begun to pluck out the offending right eye. Or, having felt the power of the Divine anger; having obtained clear conceptions of the intense aversion of God towards moral evil; even the child of God sometimes lives under a cloud, because he does not dare to make a right use of this needed and salutary impression, and pass back to that confiding trust in the Divine pity which is his privilege and his birth-right, as one who has been sprinkled with atoning blood. It is plain, from the texts of Scripture placed at the head of this discourse, that the feeling and principle of fear is a legitimate one.[1] In these words of God himself, we are taught that it is the font and origin of true wisdom, and are commanded to be inspired by it. The Old Testament enjoins it, and the New Testament repeats and emphasizes the injunction; so that the total and united testimony of Revelation forbids a religion that is destitute of fear. The New Dispensation is sometimes set in opposition to the Old, and Christ is represented as teaching a less rigid morality than that of Moses and the prophets. But the mildness of Christ is not seen, certainly, in the ethical and preceptive part of His religion. The Sermon on the Mount is a more searching code of morals than the ten commandments. It cuts into human depravity with a more keen and terrible edge, than does the law proclaimed amidst thunderings and lightnings. Let us see if it does not. The Mosaic statute simply says to man: "Thou shalt not kill." But the re-enactment of this statute, by incarnate Deity, is accompanied with an explanation and an emphasis that precludes all misapprehension and narrow construction of the original law, and renders it a two-edged sword that pierces to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit. When the Hebrew legislator says to me: "Thou shalt not kill," it is possible for me, with my propensity to look upon the outward appearance, and to regard the external act alone, to deem myself innocent if I have never actually murdered a fellow-being. But when the Lord of glory tells me that "whosoever is angry with his brother" is in danger of the judgment, my mouth is stopped, and it is impossible for me to cherish a conviction of personal innocency, in respect to the sixth commandment. And the same is true of the seventh commandment, and the eighth commandment, and of all the statutes in the decalogue. He who reads, and ponders, the whole Sermon on the Mount, is painfully conscious that Christ has put a meaning into the Mosaic law that renders it a far more effective instrument of mental torture, for the guilty, than it is as it stands in the Old Testament. The lightnings are concentrated. The bolts are hurled with a yet more sure and deadly aim. The new meaning is a perfectly legitimate and logical deduction, and in this sense there is no difference between the Decalogue and the Sermon,--between the ethics of the Old and the ethics of the New Testament. But, so much more spiritual is the application, and so much more searching is the reach of the statute, in the last of the two forms of its statement, that it looks almost like a new proclamation of law. Our Lord did not intend, or pretend, to teach a milder ethics, or an easier virtue, on the Mount of Beatitudes, than that which He had taught fifteen centuries before on Mt. Sinai. He indeed pronounces a blessing; and so did Moses, His servant, before Him. But in each instance, it is a blessing upon condition of obedience; which, in both instances, involves a curse upon disobedience. He who is meek shall be blest; but he who is not shall be condemned. He who is pure in heart, he who is poor in spirit, he who mourns over personal unworthiness, he who hungers and thirsts after a righteousness of which he is destitute, he who is merciful, he who is the peace-maker, he who endures persecution patiently, and he who loves his enemies,--he who is and does all this in a perfect manner, without a single slip or failure, is indeed blessed with the beatitude of God. But where is the man? What single individual in all the ages, and in all the generations since Adam, is entitled to the great blessing of these beatitudes, and not deserving of the dreadful curse which they involve? In applying such a high, ethereal test to human character, the Founder of Christianity is the severest and sternest preacher of law that has ever trod upon the planet. And he who stops with the merely ethical and preceptive part of Christianity, and rejects its forgiveness through atoning blood, and its regeneration by an indwelling Spirit,--he who does not unite the fifth chapter of Matthew, with the fifth chapter of Romans,--converts the Lamb of God into the Lion of the tribe of Judah. He makes use of everything in the Christian system that condemns man to everlasting destruction, but throws away the very and the only part of it that takes off the burden and the curse. It is not, then, a correct idea of Christ that we have, when we look upon Him as unmixed complacency and unbalanced compassion. In all aspects, He was a complex personage. He was God, and He was man. As God, He could pronounce a blessing; and He could pronounce a curse, as none but God can, or dare. As man, He was perfect; and into His perfection of feeling and of character there entered those elements that fill a good being with peace, and an evil one with woe. The Son of God exhibits goodness and severity mingled and blended in perfect and majestic harmony; and that man lacks sympathy with Jesus Christ who cannot, while feeling the purest and most unselfish indignation towards the sinner's sin, at the same time give up his own individual life, if need be, for the sinner's soul. The two feelings are not only compatible in the same person, but necessarily belong to a perfect being. Our Lord breathed out a prayer for His murderers so fervent, and so full of pathos, that it will continue to soften and melt the flinty human heart, to the end of time; and He also poured out a denunciation of woes upon the Pharisees (Matt, xxiii.), every syllable of which is dense enough with the wrath of God, to sink the deserving objects of it "plumb down, ten thousand fathoms deep, to bottomless perdition in adamantine chains and penal fire." The utterances, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do: Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers! how can ye escape the damnation of hell?" both fell from the same pure and gracious lips. It is not surprising, therefore, that our Lord often appeals to the principle of fear. He makes use of it in all its various forms,--from that servile terror which is produced by the truth when the soul is just waked up from its drowze in sin, to that filial fear which Solomon affirms to be the beginning of wisdom. The subject thus brought before our minds, by the inspired Word, has a wide application to all ages and conditions of human life, and all varieties of human character. We desire to direct attention to _the use and value of religious fear, in the opening periods of human life_. There are some special reasons why youth and early manhood should come under the influence of this powerful feeling. "I write unto you young men,"--says St. John,--"because ye are _strong_." We propose to urge upon the young, the duty of cultivating the fear of God's displeasure, because they are able to endure the emotion; because youth is the springtide and prime of human life, and capable of carrying burdens, and standing up under influences and impressions, that might crush a feebler period, or a more exhausted stage of the human soul. I. In the first place, the emotion of fear ought to enter into the consciousness of the young, because _youth is naturally light-hearted_. "Childhood and youth," saith the Preacher, "are vanity." The opening period in human life is the happiest part of it, if we have respect merely to the condition and circumstances in which the human being is placed. He is free from all public cares, and responsibilities. He is encircled within the strong arms of parents, and protectors. Even if he tries, he cannot feel the pressure of those toils and anxieties which will come of themselves, when he has passed the line that separates youth from manhood. When he hears his elders discourse of the weight, and the weariness, of this working-day world, it is with incredulity and surprise. The world is bright before his eye, and he wonders that it should ever wear any other aspect. He cannot understand how the freshness, and vividness, and pomp of human life, should shift into its soberer and sterner forms; and he will not, until the "Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy."[2] Now there is something, in this happy attitude of things, to fill the heart of youth with gayety and abandonment. His pulses beat strong and high. The currents of his soul flow like the mountain river. His mood is buoyant and jubilant, and he flings himself with zest, and a sense of vitality, into the joy and exhilaration all around him. But such a mood as this, unbalanced and untempered by a loftier one, is hazardous to the eternal interests of the soul. Perpetuate this gay festal abandonment of the mind; let the human being, through the whole of his earthly course, be filled with the sole single consciousness that _this_ is the beautiful world; and will he, can he, live as a stranger and a pilgrim in it? Perpetuate that vigorous pulse, and that youthful blood which "runs tickling up and down the veins;" drive off, and preclude, all that care and responsibility which renders human life so earnest; and will the young immortal go through it, with that sacred fear and trembling with which he is commanded to work out his salvation? Yet, this buoyancy and light-heartedness are legitimate feelings. They spring up, like wild-flowers, from the very nature of man. God intends that prismatic hues and auroral lights shall flood our morning sky. He must be filled with a sour and rancid misanthropy, who cannot bless the Creator that there is one part of man's sinful and cursed life which reminds of the time, and the state, when there was no sin and no curse. There is, then, to be no extermination of this legitimate experience. But there is to be its moderation and its regulation. And this we get, by the introduction of the feeling and the principle of religious fear. The youth ought to seek an impression from things unseen and eternal. God, and His august attributes; Christ, and His awful Passion; heaven, with its sacred scenes and joys; hell, with its just woe and wail,--all these should come in, to modify, and temper, the jubilance that without them becomes the riot of the soul. For this, we apprehend, is the meaning of our Lord, when He says, "I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell; yea, I say unto you, Fear him." It is not so much any particular species of fear that we are shut up to, by these words, as it is the general habit and feeling. The fear of _hell_ is indeed specified,--and this proves that such a fear is rational and proper in its own place,--but our Lord would not have us stop with this single and isolated form of the feeling. He recommends a solemn temper. He commands a being who stands continually upon the brink of eternity and immensity, to be aware of his position. He would have the great shadow of eternity thrown in upon time. He desires that every man should realize, in those very moments when the sun shines the brightest and the earth looks the fairest, that there is another world than this, for which man is not naturally prepared, and for which he must make a preparation. And what He enjoins upon mankind at large, He specially enjoins upon youth. They need to be sobered more than others. The ordinary cares of this life, which do so much towards moderating our desires and aspirations, have not yet pressed upon the ardent and expectant soul, and therefore it needs, more than others, to fear and to "stand in awe." II. Secondly, youth is _elastic, and readily recovers from undue depression_. The skeptical Lucretius tells us that the divinities are the creatures of man's fears, and would make us believe that all religion has its ground in fright.[3] And do we not hear this theory repeated by the modern unbeliever? What means this appeal to a universal, and an unprincipled good-nature in the Supreme Being, and this rejection of everything in Christianity that awakens misgivings and forebodings within the sinful human soul? Why this opposition to the doctrine of an absolute, and therefore endless punishment, unless it be that it awakens a deep and permanent dread in the heart of guilty man? Now, we are not of that number who believe that thoughtless and lethargic man has been greatly damaged by his moral fears. It is the lack of a bold and distinct impression from the solemn objects of another world, and the utter absence of fear, that is ruining man from generation to generation. If we were at liberty, and had the power, to induce into the thousands and millions of our race who are running the rounds of sin and vice, some one particular emotion that should be medicinal and salutary to the soul, we would select that very one which our Lord had in view when He said: "I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell; yea, I say unto you, Fear him." If we were at liberty, and had the power, we would instantaneously stop these human souls that are crowding our avenues, intent only upon pleasure and earth, and would fill them with the emotions of the day of doom; we would deluge them with the fear of God, that they might flee from their sins and the wrath to come. But while we say this, we also concede that it is possible for the human soul to be injured, by the undue exercise of this emotion. The bruised reed may be broken, and the smoking flax may be quenched; and hence it is the very function and office-work of the Blessed Comforter, to prevent this. God's own children sometimes pass through a horror of great darkness, like that which enveloped Abraham; and the unregenerate mind is sometimes so overborne by its fears of death, judgment, and eternity, that the entire experience becomes for a time morbid and confused. Yet, even in this instance, the excess is better than the lack. We had better travel this road to heaven, than none at all. It is better to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into hell-fire. When the saints from the heavenly heights look back upon their severe religious experience here on earth,--upon their footprints stained with their own blood,--they count it a small matter that they entered into eternal joy through much tribulation. And if we could but for one instant take their position, we should form their estimate; we should not shrink, if God so pleased, from passing through that martyrdom and crucifixion which has been undergone by so many of those gentle spirits, broken spirits, holy spirits, upon whom the burden of mystery once lay like night, and the far heavier burden of guilt lay like hell. There is less danger, however, that the feeling and principle of fear should exert an excessive influence upon youth. There is an elasticity, in the earlier periods of human life, that prevents long-continued depression. How rare it is to see a young person smitten with insanity. It is not until the pressure of anxiety has been long continued, and the impulsive spring of the soul has been destroyed, that reason is dethroned. The morning of our life may, therefore, be subjected to a subduing and repressing influence, with very great safety. It is well to bear the yoke in youth. The awe produced by a vivid impression from the eternal world may enter into the exuberant and gladsome experience of the young, with very little danger of actually extinguishing it, and rendering life permanently gloomy and unhappy. III. Thirdly, youth is _exposed to sudden temptations, and surprisals into sin_. The general traits that have been mentioned as belonging to the early period in human life render it peculiarly liable to solicitations. The whole being of a healthful hilarious youth, who feels life in every limb, thrills to temptation, like the lyre to the plectrum. Body and soul are alive to all the enticements of the world of sense; and in certain critical moments, the entire sensorium, upon the approach of bold and powerful excitements, flutters and trembles like an electrometer in a thunder-storm. All passionate poetry breathes of youth and spring. Most of the catastrophes of the novel and the drama turn upon the violent action of some temptation, upon the highly excitable nature of youth. All literature testifies to the hazards that attend the morning of our existence; and daily experience and observation, certainly, corroborate the testimony. It becomes necessary, therefore, to guard the human soul against these liabilities which attend it in its forming period. And, next to a deep and all-absorbing _love_ of God, there is nothing so well adapted to protect against sudden surprisals, as a profound and definite fear of God. It is a great mistake, to suppose that apostate and corrupt beings like ourselves can pass through all the temptations of this life unscathed, while looking _solely_ at the pleasant aspects of the Divine Being, and the winning forms of religious truth. We are not yet seraphs; and we cannot always trust to our affectionateness, to carry us through a violent attack of temptation. There are moments in the experience of the Christian himself, when he is compelled to call in the _fear_ of God to his aid, and to steady his infirm and wavering virtue by the recollection that "the wages of sin is death." "By the fear of the Lord, men,"--and Christian men too,--"depart from evil." It will not always be so. When that which is perfect is come, perfect love shall cast out fear; but, until the disciple of Christ reaches heaven, his religious experience must be a somewhat complex one. A reasonable and well-defined apprehensiveness must mix with his affectionateness, and deter him from transgression, in those severe passages in his history when love is languid and fails to draw him. Says an old English divine: "The fear of God's judgments, or of the threatenings of God, is of much efficiency, when some present temptation presseth upon us. When conscience and the affections are divided; when conscience doth withdraw a man from sin, and when his carnal affections draw him forth to it; then should the fear of God come in. It is a holy design for a Christian, to counterbalance the pleasures of sin with the terrors of it, and thus to cure the poison of the viper by the flesh of the viper. Thus that admirable saint and martyr, Bishop Hooper, when he came to die, one endeavored to dehort him from death by this: O sir, consider that life is sweet and death is bitter; presently he replied, Life to come is more sweet, and death to come is more bitter, and so went to the stake and patiently endured the fire. Thus, as a Christian may sometimes outweigh the pleasures of sin by the consideration of the reward of God, so, sometimes, he may quench the pleasures of sin by the consideration of the terrors of God."[4] But much more is all this true, in the instance of the hot-blooded youth. How shall he resist temptation, unless he has some _fear_ of God before his eyes? There are moments in the experience of the young, when all power of resistance seems to be taken away, by the very witchery and blandishment of the object. He has no heart, and no nerve, to resist the beautiful siren. And it is precisely in these emergencies in his experience,--in these moments when this world comes up before him clothed in pomp and gold, and the other world is so entirely lost sight of, that it throws in upon him none of its solemn shadows and warnings,--it is precisely now, when he is just upon the point of yielding to the mighty yet fascinating pressure, that he needs to feel an impression, bold and startling, from the _wrath_ of God. Nothing but the most active remedies will have any effect, in this tumult and uproar of the soul. When the whole system is at fever-heat, and the voice of reason and conscience is drowned in the clamors of sense and earth, nothing can startle and stop but the trumpet of Sinai.[5] It is in these severe experiences, which are more common to youth than they are to manhood, that we see the great value of the feeling and principle of fear. It is, comparatively, in vain for a youth under the influence of strong temptations,--and particularly when the surprise is sprung upon him,--to ply himself with arguments drawn from the beauty of virtue, and the excellence of piety. They are too ethereal for him, in his present mood. Such arguments are for a calmer moment, and a more dispassionate hour. His blood is now boiling, and those higher motives which would influence the saint, and would have some influence with him, if he were not in this critical condition, have little power to deter him from sin. Let him therefore pass by the love of God, and betake himself to the _anger_ of God, for safety. Let him say to himself, in this moment when the forces of Satan, in alliance with the propensities of his own nature, are making an onset,--when all other considerations are being swept away in the rush and whirlwind of his passions,--let him coolly bethink himself and say: "If I do this abominable thing which the soul of God hates, then God, the Holy and Immaculate, will burn my spotted soul in His pure eternal flame." For, there is great power, in what the Scriptures term "the terror of the Lord," to destroy the edge of temptation. "A wise man feareth and departeth from evil." Fear kills out the delight in sin. Damocles cannot eat the banquet with any pleasure, so long as the naked sword hangs by a single hair over his head. No one can find much enjoyment in transgression, if his conscience is feeling the action of God's holiness within it. And well would it be, if, in every instance in which a youth is tempted to fling himself into the current of sin that is flowing all around him, his moral sense might at that very moment be filled with some of that terror, and some of that horror, which breaks upon the damned in eternity. Well would it be, if the youth in the moment of violent temptation could lay upon the emotion or the lust that entices him, a distinct and red coal of hell-fire.[6] No injury would result from the most terrible fear of God, provided it could always fall upon the human soul in those moments of strong temptation, and of surprisals, when all other motives fail to influence, and the human will is carried headlong by the human passions. There may be a fear and a terror that does harm, but man need be under no concern lest he experience too much of this feeling, in his hours of weakness and irresolution, in his youthful days of temptation and of dalliance. Let him rather bless God that there is such an intense light, and such a pure fire, in the Divine Essence, and seek to have his whole vitiated and poisoned nature penetrated and purified by it. Have you never looked with a steadfast gaze into a grate of burning anthracite, and noticed the quiet intense glow of the heat, and how silently the fire throbs and pulsates through the fuel, burning up everything that is inflammable, and, making the whole mass as pure, and clean, and clear, as the element of fire itself? Such is the effect of a contact of God's wrath with man's sin; of the penetration of man's corruption by the wrath of the Lord. IV. In the fourth place, the feeling and principle of fear ought to enter into the experience of both youth and manhood, _because it relieves from all other fear_. He who stands in awe of God can look down, from a very great height, upon all other perturbation. When we have seen Him from whose sight the heavens and the earth flee away, there is nothing, in either the heavens or the earth, that can produce a single ripple upon the surface of our souls. This is true, even of the unregenerate mind. The fear in this instance is a servile one,--it is not filial and affectionate,--and yet it serves to protect the subject of it from all other feelings of this species, because it is greater than all others, and like Aaron's serpent swallows up the rest. If we must be liable to fears,--and the transgressor always must be,--it is best that they should all be concentrated in one single overmastering sentiment. Unity is ever desirable; and even if the human soul were to be visited by none but the servile forms of fear, it would be better that this should be the "terror of the Lord." If, by having the fear of God before our eyes, we could thereby be delivered from the fear of man, and all those apprehensions which are connected with time and sense, would it not be wisdom to choose it? We should then know that there was but one quarter from which our peace could be assailed. This would lead us to look in that direction; and, here upon earth, sinful man cannot look at God long, without coming to terms and becoming reconciled with Him. V. The fifth and last reason which we assign for cherishing the feeling and principle of fear applies to youth, to manhood, and to old age, alike: _The fear of God conducts to the love of God_. Our Lord does not command us to fear "Him, who after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell," because such a feeling as this is intrinsically desirable, and is an ultimate end in itself. It is, in itself, undesirable, and it is only a means to an end. By it, our torpid souls are to be awakened from their torpor; our numbness and hardness of mind, in respect to spiritual objects, is to be removed. We are never for a moment, to suppose that the fear of perdition is set before us as a model and permanent form of experience to be toiled after,--a positive virtue and grace intended to be perpetuated through the whole future history of the soul. It is employed only as an antecedent to a higher and a happier emotion; and when the purpose for which it has been elicited has been answered, it then disappears. "Perfect love casteth out fear; for fear hath torment," (1 John iv. 18.[7]) But, at the same time, we desire to direct attention to the fact that he who has been exercised with this emotion, thoroughly and deeply, is conducted by it into the higher and happier form of religious experience. Religious fear and anxiety are the prelude to religious peace and joy. These are the discords that prepare for the concords. He, who in the Psalmist's phrase has known the power of the Divine anger, is visited with the manifestation of the Divine love. The method in the thirty-second psalm is the method of salvation. Day and night God's hand is heavy upon the soul; the fear and sense of the Divine displeasure is passing through the conscience, like electric currents. The moisture, the sweet dew of health and happiness, is turned into the drought of summer, by this preparatory process. Then the soul acknowledges its sin, and its iniquity it hides no longer. It confesses its transgressions unto the Lord,--it justifies and approves of this wrath which it has felt,--and He forgives the iniquity of its sin. It is not a vain thing, therefore, to fear the Lord. The emotion of which we have been discoursing, painful though it be, is remunerative. There is something in the very experience of moral pain which brings us nigh to God. When, for instance, in the hour of temptation, I discern God's calm and holy eye bent upon me, and I wither beneath it, and resist the enticement because I fear to disobey, I am brought by this chapter in my experience into very close contact with my Maker. There has been a vivid and personal transaction between us. I have heard him say: "If thou doest that wicked thing thou shalt surely die; refrain from doing it, and I will love thee and bless thee." This is the secret of the great and swift reaction which often takes place, in the sinner's soul. He moodily and obstinately fights against the Divine displeasure. In this state of things, there is nothing but fear and torment. Suddenly he gives way, acknowledges that it is a good and a just anger, no longer seeks to beat it back from his guilty soul, but lets the billows roll over while he casts himself upon the Divine pity. In this act and instant,--which involves the destiny of the soul, and has millenniums in it,--when he recognizes the justice and trusts in the mercy of God, there is a great rebound, and through his tears he sees the depth, the amazing depth, of the Divine compassion. For, paradoxical as it appears, God's love is best seen in the light of God's displeasure. When the soul is penetrated by this latter feeling, and is thoroughly sensible of its own worthlessness,--when, man knows himself to be vile, and filthy, and fit only to be burned up by the Divine immaculateness,--then, to have the Great God take him to His heart, and pour out upon him the infinite wealth of His mercy and compassion, is overwhelming. Here, the Divine indignation becomes a foil to set off the Divine love. Read the sixteenth chapter of Ezekiel, with an eye "purged with euphrasy and rue," so that you can take in the full spiritual significance of the comparisons and metaphors, and your whole soul will dissolve in tears, as you perceive how the great and pure God, in every instance in which He saves an apostate spirit, is compelled to bow His heavens and come down into a loathsome sty of sensuality.[8] Would it be love of the highest order, in a seraph, to leave the pure cerulean and trail his white garments through the haunts of vice, to save the wretched inmates from themselves and their sins? O then what must be the degree of affection and compassion, when the infinite Deity, whose essence is light itself, and whose nature is the intensest contrary of all sin, tabernacles in the flesh upon the errand of redemption! And if the pure spirit of that seraph, while filled with an ineffable loathing, and the hottest moral indignation, at what he saw in character and conduct, were also yearning with an unspeakable desire after the deliverance of the vicious from their vice,--the moral wrath, thus setting in still stronger relief the moral compassion that holds it in check,---what must be the relation between these two emotions in the Divine Being! Is not the one the measure of the other? And does not the soul that fears God in a _submissive_ manner, and acknowledges the righteousness of the Divine displeasure with entire acquiescence and no sullen resistance, prepare the way, in this very act, for an equally intense manifestation of the Divine mercy and forgiveness? The subject treated of in this discourse is one of the most important, and frequent, that is presented in the Scriptures. He who examines is startled to find that the phrase, "fear of the Lord," is woven into the whole web of Revelation from Genesis to the Apocalypse. The feeling and principle under discussion has a Biblical authority, and significance, that cannot be pondered too long, or too closely. It, therefore, has an interest for every human being, whatever may be his character, his condition, or his circumstances. All great religious awakenings begin in the dawning of the august and terrible aspects of the Deity upon the popular mind, and they reach their height and happy consummation, in that love and faith for which the antecedent fear has been the preparation. Well and blessed would it be for this irreverent and unfearing age, in which the advance in mechanical arts and vice is greater than that in letters and virtue, if the popular mind could be made reflective and solemn by this great emotion. We would, therefore, pass by all other feelings, and endeavor to fix the eye upon the distinct and unambiguous fear of God, and would urge the young, especially, to seek for it as for hid treasures. The feeling is a painful one, because it is a _preparatory_ one. There are other forms of religious emotion which are more attractive, and are necessary in their place; these you may be inclined to cultivate, at the expense of the one enjoined by our Lord in the text. But we solemnly and earnestly entreat you, not to suffer your inclination to divert your attention from your duty and your true interest. We tell you, with confidence, that next to the affectionate and filial love of God in your heart, there is no feeling or principle in the whole series that will be of such real solid service to you, as that one enjoined by our Lord upon "His disciples first of all." You will need its awing and repressing influence, in many a trying scene, in many a severe temptation. Be encouraged to cherish it, from the fact that it is a very effective, a very powerful emotion. He who has the fear of God before his eyes is actually and often kept from falling. It will prevail with your weak will, and your infirm purpose, when other motives fail. And if you could but stand where those do, who have passed through that fearful and dangerous passage through which you are now making a transit; if you could but know, as they do, of what untold value is everything that deters from the wrong and nerves to the right, in the critical moments of human life; you would know, as they do, the utmost importance of cherishing a solemn and serious dread of displeasing God. The more simple and unmixed this feeling is in your own experience, the more influential will it be. Fix it deeply in the mind, that the great God is holy. Recur to this fact continually. If the dread which it awakens casts a shadow over the gayety of youth, remember that you need this, and will not be injured by it. The doctrine commends itself to you, because you are young, and because you are strong. If it fills you with misgivings, at times, and threatens to destroy your peace of mind, let the emotion operate. Never stifle it, as you value your salvation. You had better be unhappy for a season, than yield to temptation and grievous snares which will drown you in perdition. Even if it hangs dark and low over the horizon of your life, and for a time invests this world with sadness, be resolute with yourself, and do not attempt to remove the feeling, except in the legitimate way of the gospel. Remember that every human soul out of Christ ought to fear, "for he that believeth not on the Son, the wrath of God abideth on him." And remember, also, that every one who believes in Christ ought not to fear; for "there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus, and he that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life." And with this thought would we close. This fear of God may and should end in the perfect love that casteth out fear. This powerful and terrible emotion, which we have been considering, may and ought to prepare the soul to welcome the sweet and thrilling accents of Christ saying, "Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden," with your fears of death, judgment, and eternity, "and I will give you rest." Faith in Christ lifts the soul above all fears, and eventually raises it to that serene world, that blessed state of being, where there is no more curse and no more foreboding. "Serene will be our days, and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security." [Footnote 1: The moral and healthful influence of fear is implied in the celebrated passage in Aristotle's Poetics, whatever be the interpretation. He speaks of a _cleansing [Greek: (katharsin)]_ of the mind, by means of the emotions of pity and terror [Greek: (phobos)] awakened by tragic poetry. Most certainly, there is no portion of Classical literature so purifying as the Greek Drama. And yet, the pleasurable emotions are rarely awakened by it. Righteousness and justice determine the movement of the plot, and conduct to the catastrophe; and the persons and forms that move across the stage are, not Venus and the Graces but, "ghostly Shapes To meet at noontide; Death the Skeleton And Time the Shadow." All literature that tends upward contains the tragic element; and all literature that tends downward rejects it. Æschylus and Dante assume a world of retribution, and employ for the purposes of poetry the fear it awakens. Lucretius and Voltaire would disprove the existence of such a solemn world, and they make no use of such an emotion.] [Footnote 2: WORDSWORTH: Intimations of Immortality.] [Footnote 3: LUCRETIUS: De Rerum Natura, III. 989 sq.; V. 1160 sq.] [Footnote 4: BATES: Discourse of the Fear of God.] [Footnote 5: "Praise be to Thee, glory to Thee, O Fountain of mercies: I was becoming more miserable and Thou becoming nearer, Thy right hand was continually ready to pluck me out of the mire, and to wash me thoroughly, and I knew it not; nor did anything call me back from a yet deeper gulf of carnal pleasures, but _the fear of death, and of Thy judgment to come_; which, amid all my changes, never departed from my breast." AUGUSTINE: Confessions, vi. 16., (Shedd's Ed., p. 142.)] [Footnote 6: "Si te luxuria tentat, objice tibi memoriam mortis tuae, propone tibi futuruin judicium, reduc ad memoriam futura tormenta, propone tibi acterna supplicia; et etiaim propone aute oculos tuos perpetuosignes infernorum; propone tibi horribiles poenas gehennae. Memoria ardoris gehennae extinguat in te ardorem luxuriane." BERNARD: De Modo Bene Vivendi. Sermo lxvii.] [Footnote 7: BAXTER (Narrative, Part I.) remarks "that fear, being an easier and irresistible passion, doth oft obscure that measure of love which is indeed within us; and that the soul of a believer groweth up by degrees from the more troublesome and safe operation of fear, to the more high and excellent operations of complacential love."] [Footnote 8: "Thus saith the Lord God unto Jerusalem, thy birth and thy nativity is of the land of Canaan; thy father was an Amorite, and thy mother an Hittite. Thou wast cast out in the open field, to the loathing of thy person, in the day that thou wast born. And when I passed by thee and saw thee polluted in thy own blood, I said unto thee when, thou wast in thy blood, Live; yea I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live." Ezekiel xvi. 1, 5, 6.] THE PRESENT LIFE AS RELATED TO THE FUTURE. LUKE xvi. 25.--"And Abraham said, Son remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." The parable of Dives and Lazarus is one of the most solemn passages in the whole Revelation of God. In it, our Lord gives very definite statements concerning the condition of those who have departed this life. It makes no practical difference, whether we assume that this was a real occurrence, or only an imaginary one,--whether there actually was such a particular rich man as Dives, and such a particular beggar as Lazarus, or whether the narrative was invented by Christ for the purpose of conveying the instruction which he desired to give. The instruction is given in either case; and it is the instruction with which we are concerned. Be it a parable, or be it a historical fact, our Lord here teaches, in a manner not to be disputed, that a man who seeks enjoyment in this life as his chief end shall suffer torments in the next life, and that he who endures suffering in this life for righteousness' sake shall dwell in paradise in the next,--that he who finds his life here shall lose his life hereafter, and that he who loses his life here shall find it here after. For, we cannot for a moment suppose that such a Being as Jesus Christ merely intended to play upon the fears of men, in putting forth such a picture as this. He knew that this narrative would be read by thousands and millions of mankind; that they would take it from His lips as absolute truth; that they would inevitably infer from it, that the souls of men do verily live after death, that some of them are in bliss and some of them are in pain, and that the difference between them is due to the difference in the lives which they lead here upon earth. Now, if Christ was ignorant upon these subjects, He had no right to make such representations and to give such impressions, even through a merely imaginary narrative. And still less could He be justified in so doing, if, being perfectly informed upon the subject, He knew that there is no such place as that in which He puts the luxurious Dives, and no such impassable gulf as that of which He speaks. It will not do, here, to employ the Jesuitical maxim that the end justifies the means, and say, as some teachers have said, that the wholesome impression that will be made upon the vicious and the profligate justifies an appeal to their fears, by preaching the doctrine of endless retribution, although there is no such thing. This was a fatal error in the teachings of Clement of Alexandria, and Origen. "God threatens,"--said they,--"and punishes, but only to improve, never for purposes of retribution; and though, in public discourse, the fruitlessness of repentance after death be asserted, yet hereafter not only those who have not heard of Christ will receive forgiveness, but the severer punishment which befalls the obstinate unbelievers will, it may be hoped, not be the conclusion of their history."[1] But can we suppose that such a sincere, such a truthful and such a holy Being as the Son of God would stoop to any such artifice as this? that He who called Himself The Truth would employ a lie, either directly or indirectly, even to promote the spiritual welfare of men? He never spake for mere sensation. The fact, then, that in this solemn passage of Scripture we find the Redeemer calmly describing and minutely picturing the condition of two persons in the future world, distinctly specifying the points of difference between them, putting words into their mouths that indicate a sad and hopeless experience in one of them, and a glad and happy one in the other of them,--the fact that in this treatment of the awful theme our Lord, beyond all controversy, _conveys the impression_ that these scenes and experiences are real and true,--is one of the strongest of all proofs that they are so. The reader of Dante's Inferno is always struck with the sincerity and realism of that poem. Under the delineation of that luminous, and that intense understanding, hell has a topographic reality. We wind along down those nine circles as down a volcanic crater, black, jagged, precipitous, and impinging upon the senses at every step. The sighs and shrieks jar our own tympanum; and the convulsions of the lost excite tremors in our own nerves. No wonder that the children in the streets of Florence, as they saw the sad and earnest man pass along, his face lined with passion and his brow scarred with thought, pointed at him and said: "There goes the man who has been in hell." But how infinitely more solemn is the impression that is made by these thirteen short verses, of the sixteenth chapter of Luke's gospel, from the lips of such a Being as Jesus Christ! We have here the terse and pregnant teachings of one who, in the phrase of the early Creed, not only "descended into hell," but who "hath the keys of death and hell." We have here not the utterances of the most truthful, and the most earnest of all human poets,--a man who, we may believe, felt deeply the power of the Hebrew Bible, though living in a dark age, and a superstitious Church,--we have here the utterances of the Son of God, very God, of very God, and we may be certain that He intended to convey no impression that will not be made good in the world to come. And when every eye shall see Him, and all the sinful kindreds of the earth shall wail because of Him, there will not be any eye that can look into His and say: "Thy description, O Son of God, was overdrawn; the impression was greater than the reality." On the contrary, every human soul will say in the day of judgment: "We were forewarned; the statements were exact; even according to Thy fear, so is Thy wrath" (Ps. xc. 11). But what is the lesson which we are to read by this clear and solemn light? What would our merciful Redeemer have us learn from this passage which He has caused to be recorded for our instruction? Let us listen with a candid and a feeling heart, because it comes to us not from an enemy of the human soul, not from a Being who delights to cast it into hell, but from a friend of the soul; because it comes to us from One who, in His own person and in His own flesh, suffered an anguish superior in dignity and equal in cancelling power to the pains of all the hells, in order that we, through repentance and faith, might be spared their infliction. The lesson is this: _The man who seeks enjoyment in this life, as his chief end, must suffer in the next life; and he who endures suffering in this life, for righteousness' sake, shall be happy in the next._ "Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." It is a fixed principle in the Divine administration, that the scales of justice shall in the end be made equal. If, therefore, sin enjoys in this world, it must sorrow in the next; and if righteousness sorrows in this world, it must enjoy in the next. The experience shall be reversed, in order to bring everything to a right position and adjustment. This is everywhere taught in the Bible. "Woe unto you that are rich! for ye have received your consolation. Woe unto you that are full! for ye shall hunger. Woe unto you that laugh now! for ye shall mourn and weep. Blessed are ye that hunger now; for ye shall be filled. Blessed are ye that weep now; for ye shall laugh" (Luke vi. 21, 24, 25). These are the explicit declarations of the Founder of Christianity, and they ought not to surprise us, coming as they do from Him who expressly declares that His kingdom is not of this world; that in this world His disciples must have tribulation, as He had; that through much tribulation they must enter into the kingdom of God; that whosoever doth not take up the cross daily, and follow Him, cannot be His disciple. Let us notice some particulars, in which we see the operation of this principle. What are the "good things" which Dives receives here, for which he must be "tormented" hereafter? and what are the "evil things" which Lazarus receives in this world, for which he will be "comforted" in the world to come? I. In the first place, the worldly man _derives a more intense physical enjoyment_ from this world's goods, than does the child of God. He possesses more of them, and gives himself up to them with less self-restraint. The majority of those who have been most prospered by Divine Providence in the accumulation of wealth have been outside of the kingdom and the ark of God. Not many rich and not many noble are called. In the past history of mankind, the great possessions and the great incomes, as a general rule, have not been in the hands of humble and penitent men. In the great centres of trade and commerce,--in Venice, Amsterdam, Paris, London,--it is the world and not the people of God who have had the purse, and have borne what is put therein. Satan is described in Scripture, as the "prince of this world" (John xiv. 30); and his words addressed to the Son of God are true: "All this power and glory is delivered unto me, and to whomsoever I will, I give it." In the parable from which we are discoursing, the sinful man was the rich man, and the child of God was the beggar. And how often do we see, in every-day life, a faithful, prayerful, upright, and pure-minded man, toiling in poverty, and so far as earthly comforts are concerned enjoying little or nothing, while a selfish, pleasure-seeking, and profligate man is immersed in physical comforts and luxuries. The former is receiving evil things, and the latter is receiving good things, in this life. Again, how often it happens that a fine physical constitution, health, strength, and vigor, are given to the worldling, and are denied to the child of God. The possession of worldly good is greatly enhanced in value, by a fine capability of enjoying it. When therefore we see wealth joined, with health, and luxury in all the surroundings and appointments combined with taste to appreciate them and a full flow of blood to enjoy them, or access to wide and influential circles, in politics and fashion, given to one who is well fitted by personal qualities to move in them,--when we see a happy adaptation existing between the man and his good fortune, as we call it,--we see not only the "good things," but the "good things" in their gayest and most attractive forms and colors. And how often is all this observed in the instance of the natural man; and how often is there little or none of this in the instance of the spiritual man. We by no means imply, that it is impossible for the possessor of this world's goods to love mercy, to do justly, and to walk humbly; and we are well aware that under the garb of poverty and toil there may beat a murmuring and rebellious heart. But we think that from generation to generation, in this imperfect and probationary world, it will be found to be a fact, that when _merely_ earthly and physical good is allotted in large amounts by the providence of God; that when great incomes and ample means of luxury are given; in the majority of instances they are given to the enemies of God, and not to His dear children. So the Psalmist seems to have thought. "I was envious,"--he says,--"when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. For there are no bands in their death; but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other men; neither are they plagued like other men. Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment. Their eyes stand out with fatness; they have more than heart could wish. Behold these are the _ungodly_ who prosper in the world; they increase in riches. Verily _I_ have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency. For all day long have _I_ been plagued, and chastened every morning" (Ps. lxxiii). And it should be carefully noticed, that the Psalmist, even after further reflection, does not _alter_ his statement respecting the relative positions of the godly and the ungodly in this world. He sees no reason to correct his estimate, upon this point. He lets it stand. So far as this merely _physical_ existence is concerned, the wicked man has the advantage. It is only when the Psalmist looks _beyond_ this life, that he sees the compensation, and the balancing again of the scales of eternal right and justice. "When I thought to know this,"--when I reflected upon this inequality, and apparent injustice, in the treatment of the friends and the enemies of God,--"it was too painful for me, until I went into the sanctuary of God,"--until I took my stand in the _eternal_ world, and formed my estimate there,--"_then_ understood I their end. Surely thou didst set them in slippery places: thou castedst them down to destruction. How are they brought into desolation as in a moment! They are utterly consumed with terrors." Dives passes from his fine linen and sumptuous fare, from his excessive physical enjoyment, to everlasting perdition. II. In the second place, the worldly man _derives more enjoyment from sin, and suffers less from it_, in this life, than does the child of God. The really renewed man cannot _enjoy_ sin. It is true that he does sin, owing to the strength of old habits, and the remainders of his corruption. But he does not really delight in it; and he says with St. Paul: "What I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I." His sin is a sorrow, a constant sorrow, to him. He feels its pressure and burden all his days, and cries: "O wretched man, who shall deliver me from the body of this death." If he falls into it, he cannot live in it; as a man may fall into water, but it is not his natural element. Again, the good man not only takes no real delight in sin, but his reflections after transgression are very painful. He has a tender conscience. His senses have been trained and disciplined to discern good and evil. Hence, the sins that are committed by a child of God are mourned over with a very deep sorrow. The longer he lives, the more odious does sin become to him, and the more keen and bitter is his lamentation over it. Now this, in itself, is an "evil thing." Man was not made for sorrow, and sorrow is not his natural condition. This wearisome struggle with indwelling corruption, these reproaches of an impartial conscience, this sense of imperfection and of constant failure in the service of God,--all this renders the believer's life on earth a season of trial, and tribulation. The thought of its lasting forever would be painful to him; and if he should be told that it is the will of God, that he should continue to be vexed and foiled through all eternity, with the motions of sin in his members, and that his love and obedience would forever be imperfect, though he would be thankful that even this was granted him, and that he was not utterly cast off, yet he would wear a shaded brow, at the prospect of an imperfect, though a sincere and a struggling eternity. But the ungodly are not so. The worldly man loves sin; loves pleasure; loves self. And the love is so strong, and accompanied with so much enjoyment and zest, that it is _lust_, and is so denominated in the Bible. And if you would only defend him from the wrath of God; if you would warrant him immunity in doing as he likes; if you could shelter him as in an inaccessible castle from the retributions of eternity; with what a delirium of pleasure would he plunge into the sin that he loves. Tell the avaricious man, that his avarice shall never have any evil consequences here or hereafter; and with what an energy would he apply himself to the acquisition of wealth. Tell the luxurious man, full of passion and full of blood, that his pleasures shall never bring down any evil upon him, that there is no power in the universe that can hurt him, and with what an abandonment would he surrender himself to his carnal elysium. Tell the ambitious man, fired with visions of fame and glory, that he may banish all fears of a final account, that he may make himself his own deity, and breathe in the incense of worshipers, without any rebuke from Him who says: "I am God, and my glory I will not give to another,"-assure the proud and ambitious man that his sin will never find him out, and with what a momentum will he follow out his inclination. For, in each of these instances there is a _hankering_ and a _lust_. The sin is _loved and revelled in_, for its own deliciousness. The heart is worldly, and therefore finds its pleasure in its forbidden objects and aims. The instant you propose to check or thwart this inclination; the instant you try to detach this natural heart from its wealth, or its pleasure, or its earthly fame; you discover how closely it clings, and how strongly it loves, and how intensely it enjoys the forbidden object. Like the greedy insect in our gardens, it has fed until every fibre and tissue is colored with its food; and to remove it from the leaf is to tear and lacerate it. Now it is for this reason, that the natural man receives "good things," or experiences pleasure, in this life, at a point where the spiritual man receives "evil things," or experiences pain. The child of God does not relish and enjoy sin in this style. Sin in the good man is a burden; but in the bad man it is a pleasure. It is all the pleasure he has. And when you propose to take it away from him, or when you ask him to give it up of his own accord, he looks at you and asks: "Will you take away the only solace I have? I have no joy in God. I take no enjoyment in divine things. Do you ask me to make myself wholly miserable?" And not only does the natural man enjoy sin, but, in this life, he is much less troubled than is the spiritual man with reflections and self-reproaches on account of sin. This is another of the "good things" which Dives receives, for which he must be "tormented;" and this is another of the "evil things" which Lazarus receives, for which he must be "comforted." It cannot be denied, that in this world the child of God suffers more mental sorrow for sin, in a given period of time, than does the insensible man of the world. If we could look into the soul of a faithful disciple of Christ, we should discover that not a day passes, in which his conscience does not reproach him for sins of thought, word, or deed; in which he does not struggle with some bosom sin, until he is so weary that he cries out: "Oh that I had wings like a dove, so that I might fly away, and be at rest." Some of the most exemplary members of the Church go mourning from day to day, because their hearts are still so far from their God and Saviour, and their lives fall so far short of what they desire them to be.[2] Their experience is not a positively wretched one, like that of an unforgiven sinner when he is feeling the stings of conscience. They are forgiven. The expiating blood has soothed the ulcerated conscience, so that it no longer stings and burns. They have hope in God's mercy. Still, they are in grief and sorrow for sin; and their experience, in so far, is not a perfectly happy one, such as will ultimately be their portion in a better world. "If in this life only,"--says St. Paul,--"we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable" (1 Cor. xv. 19). But the stupid and impenitent man, a luxurious Dives, knows nothing of all this. His days glide by with no twinges of conscience. What does he know of the burden of sin? His conscience is dead asleep; perchance seared as with a hot iron. He does wrong without any remorse; he disobeys the express commands of God, without any misgivings or self-reproach. He is "alive, without the law,"-as St. Paul expresses it. His eyes stand out with fatness; and his heart, in the Psalmist's phrase, "is as fat as grease" (Ps. cxix. 70). There is no religious sensibility in him. His sin is a pleasure to him without any mixture of sorrow, because unattended by any remorse of conscience. He is receiving his "good things" in this life. His days pass by without any moral anxiety, and perchance as he looks upon some meek and earnest disciple of Christ who is battling with indwelling sin, and who, therefore, sometimes wears a grave countenance, he wonders that any one should walk so soberly, so gloomily, in such a cheery, such a happy, such a jolly world as this. It is a startling fact, that those men in this world who have most reason to be distressed by sin are the least troubled by it; and those who have the least reason to be distressed are the most troubled by it. The child of God is the one who sorrows most; and the child of Satan is the one who sorrows least. Remember that we are speaking only of _this_ life. The text reads: "Thou _in thy lifetime_ receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things." And it is unquestionably so. The meek and lowly disciple of Christ, the one who is most entitled by his character and conduct to be untroubled by religious anxiety, is the very one who bows his head as a bulrush, and perhaps goes mourning all his days, fearing that he is not accepted, and that he shall be a cast-a-way; while the selfish and thoroughly irreligious man, who ought to be stung through and through by his own conscience, and feel the full energy of the law which he is continually breaking,--this man, who of all men ought to be anxious and distressed for sin, goes through a whole lifetime, perchance, without any convictions or any fears. And now we ask, if this state of things ought to last forever? Is it right, is it just, that sin should enjoy in this style forever and forever, and that holiness should grieve and sorrow in this style forevermore? Would you have the Almighty pay a bounty upon unrighteousness, and place goodness under eternal pains and penalties? Ought not this state of things to be reversed? When Dives comes to the end of this lifetime; when he has run his round of earthly pleasure, faring sumptuously every day, clothed in purple and fine linen, without a thought of his duties and obligations, and without any anxiety and penitence for his sins,--when this worldly man has received all his "good things," and is satiated and hardened by them, ought he not then to be "tormented?" Ought this guilty carnal enjoyment to be perpetuated through all eternity, under the government of a righteous and just God? And, on the other hand, ought not the faithful disciple, who, perhaps, has possessed little or nothing of this world's goods, who has toiled hard, in poverty, in affliction, in temptation, in tribulation, and sometimes like Abraham in the horror of a great darkness, to keep his robes white, and his soul unspotted from the world,--when the poor and weary Lazarus comes to the end of this lifetime, ought not his trials and sorrows to cease? ought he not then to be "comforted" in the bosom of Abraham, in the paradise of God? There is that within us all, which answers, Yea, and Amen. Such a balancing of the scales is assented to, and demanded by the moral convictions. Hence, in the parable, Dives himself is represented as acquiescing in the eternal judgment. He does not complain of injustice. It is true, that at first he asks for a drop of water,--for some slight mitigation of his punishment. This is the instinctive request of any sufferer. But when his attention is directed to the right and the wrong of the case; when Abraham reminds him of the principles of justice by which his destiny has been decided; when he tells him that having taken his choice of pleasure in the world which he has left, he cannot now have pleasure in the world to which he has come; the wretched man makes no reply. There is nothing to be said. He feels that the procedure is just. He is then silent upon the subject of his own tortures, and only begs that his five brethren, whose lifetime is not yet run out, to whom there is still a space left for repentance, may be warned from his own lips not to do as he has done,--not to choose pleasure on earth as their chief good; not to take their "good things" in this life. Dives, the man in hell, is a witness to the justice of eternal punishment. 1. In view of this subject, as thus discussed, we remark in the first place, that no man can have his "good things," in other words, his chief pleasure, in _both_ worlds. God and this world are in antagonism. "For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him" (1 John i. 15, 16). It is the height of folly, therefore, to suppose that a man can make earthly enjoyment his chief end while he is upon earth, and then pass to heaven when he dies. Just so far as he holds on upon the "good things" of this life, he relaxes his grasp upon the "good things" of the next. No man is capacious enough to hold both worlds in his embrace. He cannot serve God and Mammon. Look at this as a _matter of fact_. Do not take it as a theory of the preacher. It is as plain and certain that you cannot lay up your treasure in heaven while you are laying it up upon earth, as it is that your material bodies cannot occupy two portions of space at one and the same time. Dismiss, therefore, all expectations of being able to accomplish an impossibility. Put not your mind to sleep with the opiate, that in some inexplicable manner you will be able to live the life of a worldly man upon earth, and then the life of a spiritual man in heaven. There is no alchemy that can amalgamate substances that refuse to mix. No man has ever yet succeeded, no man ever will succeed, in securing both the pleasures of sin and the pleasures of holiness,--in living the life of Dives, and then going to the bosom of Abraham. 2. And this leads to the second remark, that every man must _make his choice_ whether he will have his "good things" now, or hereafter. Every man is making his choice. Every man has already made it. The heart is now set either upon God, or upon the world. Search through the globe, and you cannot find a creature with double affections; a creature with _two_ chief ends of living; a creature whose treasure is both upon earth and in heaven. All mankind are single-minded. They either mind earthly things, or heavenly things. They are inspired with one predominant purpose, which rules them, determines their character, and decides their destiny. And in all who have not been renewed by Divine grace, the purpose is a wrong one, a false and fatal one. It is the choice and the purpose of Dives, and not the choice and purpose of Lazarus. 3. Hence, we remark in the third place, that it is the duty and the wisdom of every man to let this world go, and seek his "good things" _hereafter_. Our Lord commands every man to sit down, like the steward in the parable, and make an estimate. He enjoins it upon every man to reckon up the advantages upon each side, and see for himself which is superior. He asks every man what it will profit him, "if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul; or, what he shall give in exchange for his soul." We urge you to make this estimate,--to compare the "good things" which Dives enjoyed, with the "torments" that followed them; and the "evil things" which Lazarus suffered, with the "comfort" that succeeded them. There can be no doubt upon which side the balance will fall. And we urge you to take the "evil things" _now_, and the "good things" _hereafter_. We entreat you to copy the example of Moses at the court of the Pharaohs, and in the midst of all regal luxury, who "chose rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; esteeming the reproach of Christ, greater riches than the treasures in Egypt: _for he had respect unto the recompense of reward_." Take the _narrow_ way. What though it be strait and narrow; you are not to walk in it forever. A few short years of fidelity will end the toilsome pilgrimage; and then you will come put into a "wealthy place." We might tell you of the _joys_ of the Christian life that are mingled with its trials and sorrows even here upon earth. For, this race to which we invite you, and this fight to which we call you have their own peculiar, solemn, substantial joy. And even their sorrow is tinged with glory. In a higher, truer sense than Protesilaus in the poem says it of the pagan elysium, we may say even of the Christian race, and the Christian fight, "Calm pleasures there abide--_majestic pains_."[3] But we do not care, at this point, to influence you by a consideration of the amount of enjoyment, in _this_ life, which you will derive from a close and humble walk with God. We prefer to put the case in its baldest form,--in the aspect in which we find it in our text. We will say nothing at all about the happiness of a Christian life, here in time. We will talk only of its tribulations. We will only say, as in the parable, that there are "evil things" to be endured here upon earth, in return for which we shall have "good things" in another life. There is to be a moderate and sober use of this world's goods; there is to be a searching sense of sin, and an humble confession of it before God; there is to be a cross-bearing every day, and a struggle with indwelling corruption. These will cost effort, watchfulness, and earnest prayer for Divine assistance. We do not invite you into the kingdom of God, without telling you frankly and plainly beforehand what must be done, and what must be suffered. But having told you this, we then tell you with the utmost confidence and assurance, that you will be infinitely repaid for your choice, if you take your "evil things" in this life, and choose your "good things" in a future. We know, and are certain, that this light affliction which endures but for a moment, in comparison with the infinite duration beyond the tomb, will work out a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. We entreat you to look no longer at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal. Learn a parable from a wounded soldier. His limb must be amputated, for mortification and gangrene have begun their work. He is told that the surgical operation, which will last a half hour, will yield him twenty or forty years of healthy and active life. The endurance of an "evil thing," for a few moments, will result in the possession of a "good thing," for many long days and years. He holds out the limb, and submits to the knife. He accepts the inevitable conditions under which he finds himself. He is resolute and stern, in order to secure a great good, in the future. It is the practice of this same _principle_, though not in the use of the same kind of power, that we would urge upon you. _Look up to God for grace and help_, and deliberately forego a present advantage, for the sake of something infinitely more valuable hereafter. Do not, for the sake of the temporary enjoyment of Dives, lose the eternal happiness of Lazarus. Rather, take the place, and accept the "evil things," of the beggar. _Look up to God for grace and strength_ to do it, and then live a life of contrition for sin, and faith in Christ's blood. Deny yourself, and take up the cross daily. Expect your happiness _hereafter_. Lay up your treasure _above_. Then, in the deciding day, it will be said of you, as it will be of all the true children of God: "These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." [Footnote 1: SHEDD: History of Doctrine, II., 234 sq.] [Footnote 2: The early religious experience of John Owen furnishes a striking illustration. "For a quarter of a year, he avoided almost all intercourse with men; could scarcely be induced to speak; and when he did say anything, it was in so disordered a manner as rendered him a wonder to many. Only those who have experienced the bitterness of a wounded spirit can form an idea of the distress he must have suffered. Compared with this anguish of soul, all the afflictions which befall a sinner [on earth] are trifles. One drop of that wrath which shall finally fill the cup of the ungodly, poured into the mind, is enough to poison all the comforts of life, and to spread mourning, lamentation, and woe over the countenance. Though the violence of Owen's convictions had subsided after the first severe conflict, they still continued to disturb his peace, and nearly five years elapsed from their commencement before he obtained solid comfort." ORME: Life of Owen, Chap. I.] [Footnote 3: WORDSWORTH: Laodamia.] THE EXERCISE OF MERCY OPTIONAL WITH GOD. ROMANS ix. 15.--"For He saith to Moses, I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion." This is a part of the description which God himself gave to Moses, of His own nature and attributes. The Hebrew legislator had said to Jehovah: "I beseech thee show me thy glory." He desired a clear understanding of the character of that Great Being, under whose guidance he was commissioned to lead the people of Israel into the promised land. God said to him in reply: "I will make all my goodness pass before thee, and I will proclaim the name of the Lord before thee; and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy."[1] By this, God revealed to Moses, and through him to all mankind, the fact that He is a merciful being, and directs attention to one particular characteristic of mercy. While informing His servant, that He is gracious and clement towards a penitent transgressor, He at the same time teaches him that He is under no obligation, or necessity, to shew mercy. Grace is not a debt. "I will have mercy on whom I _will_ have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I _will_ have compassion." The apostle Paul quotes this declaration, to shut the mouth of him who would set up a claim to salvation; who is too proud to beg for it, and accept it as a free and unmerited favor from God. In so doing, he endorses the sentiment. The inspiration of his Epistle corroborates that of the Pentateuch, so that we have assurance made doubly sure, that this is the correct enunciation of the nature of mercy. Let us look into this hope-inspiring attribute of God, under the guidance of this text. The great question that presses upon the human mind, from age to age, is the inquiry: Is God a merciful Being, and will He show mercy? Living as we do under the light of Revelation, we know little of the doubts and fears that spontaneously rise in the guilty human soul, when it is left solely to the light of nature to answer it. With the Bible in our hands, and hearing the good news of Redemption from our earliest years, it seems to be a matter of course that the Deity should pardon sin. Nay, a certain class of men in Christendom seem to have come to the opinion that it is more difficult to prove that God is just, than to prove that He is merciful.[2] But this is not the thought and feeling of man when outside of the pale of Revelation. Go into the ancient pagan world, examine the theologizing of the Greek and Roman mind, and you will discover that the fears of the justice far outnumbered the hopes of the mercy; that Plato and Plutarch and Cicero and Tacitus were far more certain that God would punish sin, than that He would, pardon it. This is the reason that there is no light, or joy, in any of the pagan religions. Except when religion was converted into the worship of Beauty, as in the instance of the later Greek, and all the solemn and truthful ideas of law and justice were eliminated from it, every one of the natural religions of the globe is filled with sombre and gloomy hues, and no others. The truest and best religions of the ancient world were always the sternest and saddest, because the unaided human mind is certain that God is just, but is not certain that He is merciful. When man is outside of Revelation, it is by no means a matter of course that God is clement, and that sin shall be forgiven. Great uncertainty overhangs the doctrine of the Divine mercy, from the position of natural religion, and it is only within the province of revealed truth that the uncertainty is removed. Apart from a distinct and direct _promise_ from the lips of God Himself that He will forgive sin, no human creature can be sure that sin will ever be forgiven. Let us, therefore, look into the subject carefully, and see the reason why man, if left to himself and his spontaneous reflections, doubts whether there is mercy in the Holy One for a transgressor, and fears that there is none, and why a special revelation is consequently required, to dispel the doubt and the fear. The reason lies in the fact, implied in the text, that _the exercise of justice is necessary, while that of mercy is optional_. "I will have mercy on whom I _please_ to have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I _please_ to have compassion." It is a principle inlaid in the structure of the human soul, that the transgression of law _must_ be visited with retribution. The pagan conscience, as well as the Christian, testifies that "the Soul that sinneth it shall die." There is no need of quoting from pagan philosophers to prove this. We should be compelled to cite page after page, should we enter upon the documentary evidence. Take such a tract, for example, as that of Plutarch, upon what he denominates "the slow vengeance of the Deity;" read the reasons which he assigns for the apparent delay, in this world, of the infliction of punishment upon transgressors; and you will perceive that the human mind, when left to its candid and unbiassed convictions, is certain that God is a holy Being and will visit iniquity with penalty. Throughout this entire treatise, composed by a man who probably never saw the Scriptures of either the New or the Old Dispensation, there runs a solemn and deep consciousness that the Deity is necessarily obliged, by the principles of justice, to mete out a retribution to the violator of law. Plutarch is engaged with the very same question that the apostle Peter takes up, in his second Epistle, when he answers the objection of the scoffer who asks: Where is the promise of God's coming in judgment? The apostle replies to it, by saying that for the Eternal Mind one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day, and that therefore "the Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some men count slackness;" and Plutarch answers it in a different manner, but assumes and affirms with the same positiveness and certainty that the vengeance will _ultimately come_. No reader of this treatise can doubt for a moment, that its author believed in the future punishment of the wicked,--and in the future _endless_ punishment of the incorrigibly wicked, because there is not the slightest hint or expectation of any exercise of mercy on the part of this Divinity whose vengeance, though slow, is sure and inevitable.[3] Some theorists tell us that the doctrine of endless punishment contradicts the instincts of the natural reason, and that it has no foundation in the constitution of the human soul. We invite them to read and ponder well, the speculations of one of the most thoughtful of pagans upon this subject, and tell us if they see any streaks or rays of light in it; if they see any inkling, any jot or tittle, of the doctrine of the Divine pity there. We challenge them to discover in this tract of Plutarch the slightest token, or sign, of the Divine mercy. The author believes in a hell for the wicked, and an elysium for the good; but those who go to hell go there upon principles of _justice_, and those who go to elysium go there upon the _same_ principles. It is justice that must place men in Tartarus, and it is justice that must place them in Elysium. In paganism, men must earn their heaven. The idea of _mercy_,--of clemency towards a transgressor, of pity towards a criminal,--is entirely foreign to the thoughts of Plutarch, so far as they can be gathered from this tract. It is the clear and terrible doctrine of the pagan sage, that unless a man can make good his claim to eternal happiness upon the ground of law and justice,--unless he merits it by good works,--there is no hope for him in the other world. The idea of a forgiving and tender mercy in the Supreme Being, exercised towards a creature whom justice would send to eternal retribution, nowhere appears in the best pagan ethics. And why should it? What evidence or proof has the human mind, apart from the revelations made to it in the Old and New Testaments, that God will ever forgive sin, or ever show mercy? In thinking upon the subject, our reason perceives, intuitively, that God must of necessity punish transgression; and it perceives with equal intuitiveness that there is no corresponding necessity that He should pardon it. We say with confidence and positiveness: "God must be just;" but we cannot say with any certainty or confidence at all: "God must be merciful." The Divine mercy is an attribute which is perfectly free and optional, in its exercises, and therefore we cannot tell beforehand whether it will or will not be shown to transgressors. We know nothing at all about it, until we hear some word from the lips of God Himself upon the point. When He opens the heavens, and speaks in a clear tone to the human race, saying, "I will forgive your iniquities," then, and not till then, do they know the fact. In reference to all those procedures which, like the punishment of transgression, are fixed and necessary, because they are founded in the eternal principles of law and justice, we can tell beforehand what the Divine method will be. We do not need any special revelation, to inform us that God is a just Being, and that His anger is kindled against wickedness, and that He will punish the transgressor. This class of truths, the Apostle informs us, are written in the human constitution, and we have already seen that they were known and dreaded in the pagan world. That which God _must_ do, He certainly will do. He _must_ be just, and therefore He certainly will punish sin, is the reasoning of the human mind, the-world over, and in every age.[4] But, when we pass from the punishment of sin to the pardon of it, when we go over to the merciful side of the Divine Nature, we can come to no _certain_ conclusions, if we are shut up to the workings of our own minds, or to the teachings of the world of nature about us. Picture to yourself a thoughtful pagan, like Solon the legislator of Athens, living in the heart of heathenism five centuries before Christ, and knowing nothing of the promise of mercy which broke faintly through the heavens immediately after the apostasy of the first human pair, and which found its full and victorious utterance in the streaming, blood of Calvary. Suppose that the accusing and condemning law written, upon his conscience had shown its work, and made him conscious of sin. Suppose that the question had risen within him, whether that Dread Being whom he "ignorantly worshipped," and against whom he had committed the offence, would forgive it; was there anything in his own soul, was there anything in the world around him or above him, that could give him an affirmative answer? The instant he put the question: Will God _punish_ me for my transgression? the affirming voices were instantaneous and authoritative. "The soul that sinneth it shall die" was the verdict that came forth from the recesses of his moral nature, and was echoed and re-echoed in the suffering, pain, and physical death of a miserable and groaning world all around him. But when he put the other question to himself: Will the Deity _pardon_ me for my transgression? there was no affirmative answer from any source of knowledge accessible to him. If he sought a reply from the depths of his own conscience, all that he could hear was the terrible utterance: "The soul that sinneth it shall die." The human conscience can no more promise, or certify, the forgiveness of sin, than the ten commandments can do so. When, therefore, this pagan, convicted of sin, seeks a comforting answer to his anxious inquiry respecting the Divine clemency towards a criminal, he is met only with retributive thunders and lightnings; he hears only that accusing and condemning law which is written on the heart, and experiences that fearful looking-for of judgment and fiery indignation which St. Paul describes, in the first chapter of Romans, as working in the mind of the universal pagan world. But we need not go to Solon, and the pagan world, for evidence upon this subject. Why is it that a convicted man under the full light of the gospel, and with the unambiguous and explicit promise of God to forgive sins ringing in his ears,--why is it, that even under these favorable circumstances a guilt-smitten man finds it so difficult to believe that there is mercy for him, and to trust in it? Nay, why is it that he finds it impossible fully to believe that Jehovah is a sin-pardoning God, unless he is enabled so to do by the Holy Ghost? It is because he knows that God is under a necessity of punishing his sin, but is under no necessity of pardoning it. The very same judicial principles are operating in his mind that operate in that of a pagan Solon, or any other transgressor outside of the revelation of mercy. That which holds back the convicted sinner from casting himself upon the Divine pity is the perception that God must be just. This fact is certain, whether anything else is certain or not. And it is not until he perceives that God can be _both_ just and the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus; it is not until he sees that, through the substituted sufferings of Christ, God can _punish_ sin while at the same time He _pardons_ it,--can punish it in the Substitute while He pardons it in the sinner,--it is not until he is enabled to apprehend the doctrine of _vicarious_ atonement, that his doubts and fears respecting the possibility and reality of the Divine mercy are removed. The instant he discovers that the exercise of pardon is rendered entirely consistent with the justice of God, by the substituted death of the Son of God, he sees the Divine mercy, and that too in the high form of _self-sacrifice,_ and trusts in it, and is at peace. These considerations are sufficient to show, that according to the natural and spontaneous operations of the human intellect, justice stands in the way of the exercise of mercy, and that therefore, if man is not informed by Divine Revelation respecting this latter attribute, he can never acquire the certainty that God will forgive his sin. There are two very important and significant inferences from this truth, to which we now ask serious attention. 1. In the first place, those who deny the credibility, and Divine authority, of the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments _shut up the whole world to doubt and despair_. For, unless God has spoken the word of mercy in this written Revelation, He has not spoken it anywhere; and we have seen, that unless He has spoken such a merciful word _somewhere_, no human transgressor can be certain of anything but stark unmitigated justice and retribution. Do you tell us that God is too good to punish men, and that therefore it must be that He is merciful? We tell you, in reply, that God is good when He punishes sin, and your own conscience, like that of Plutarch, re-echoes the reply. Sin is a wicked thing, and when the Holy One visits it with retribution, He is manifesting the purest moral excellence and the most immaculate perfection of character that we can conceive of. But if by goodness you mean mercy, then we say that this is the very point in dispute, and you must not beg the point but must prove it. And now, if you deny the authority and credibility of the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, we ask you upon what ground you venture to affirm that God will pardon man's sin. You cannot demonstrate it upon any _a priori_ and necessary principles. You cannot show that the Deity is obligated to remit the penalty due to transgression. You can prove the necessity of the exercise of justice, but you cannot prove the necessity of the exercise of mercy. It is purely optional with God, whether to pardon or not. If, therefore, you cannot establish the fact of the Divine clemency by _a priori_ reasoning,--if you cannot make out a _necessity_ for the exercise of mercy,--you must betake yourself to the only other method of proof that remains to you, the method of testimony. If you have the _declaration_ and _promise_ of God, that He will forgive iniquity, transgression, and sin, you may be certain of the fact,--as certain as you would be, could you prove the absolute necessity of the exercise of mercy. For God's promise cannot be broken. God's testimony is sure. But, by the supposition, you deny that this declaration has been made, and this promise has been uttered, in the written Revelation of the Christian Church. Where then do you send me for the information, and the testimony? Have you a private revelation of your own? Has the Deity spoken to you in particular, and told you that He will forgive your sin, and my sin, and that of all the generations? Unless this declaration has been made either to you or to some other one, we have seen that you cannot establish the _certainty_ that God will forgive sin. It is a purely optional matter with Him, and whether He will or no depends entirely upon His decision, determination, and declaration. If He says that He will pardon sin, it will certainly be done. But until He says it, you and every other man must be remanded to the inexorable decisions of conscience which thunder out: "The soul that sinneth it shall die." Whoever, therefore, denies that God in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments has broken through the veil that hides eternity from time, and has testified to the human race that He will forgive sin, and has solemnly promised to do so, takes away from the human race the only ground of certainty which they possess, that there is pity in the heavens, and that it will be shown to sinful creatures like themselves. But this is to shut them up again, to the doubt and hopelessness of the pagan world,--a world without Revelation. 2. In the second place, it follows from this subject, that mankind must _take the declaration and promise of God, respecting the exercise of mercy, precisely as He has given it_. They must follow the record _implicitly_, without any criticisms or alterations. Not only does the exercise of mercy depend entirely upon the will and pleasure of God, but, the mode, the conditions, and the length of time during which the offer shall be made, are all dependent upon the same sovereignty. Let us look at these particulars one by one. In the first place, the _method_ by which the Divine clemency shall be manifested, and the _conditions_ upon which the offer of forgiveness shall be made, are matters that rest solely with God. If it is entirely optional with Him whether to pardon at all, much more does it depend entirely upon Him to determine the way and means. It is here that we stop the mouth of him who objects to the doctrine of forgiveness through a vicarious atonement. We will by no means concede, that the exhibition of mercy through the vicarious satisfaction of justice is an optional matter, and that God might have dispensed with such satisfaction, had He so willed. We believe that the forgiveness of sin is possible even to the Deity, only through a substituted sacrifice that completely satisfies the demands of law and justice,--that without the shedding of expiating blood there is no remission of sin possible or conceivable, under a government of law. But, without asking the objector to come up to this high ground, we are willing, for the sake of the argument, to go down upon his low one; and we say, that even if the metaphysical necessity of an atonement could not be maintained, and that it is purely optional with God whether to employ this method or not, it would still be the duty and wisdom of man to take the record just as it reads, and to accept the method that has actually been adopted. If the Sovereign has a perfect right to say whether He will or will not pardon the criminal, has He not the same right to say _how_ He will do it? If the transgressor, upon principles of justice, could be sentenced to endless misery, and yet the Sovereign Judge concludes to offer him forgiveness and eternal life, shall the criminal, the culprit who could not stand an instant in the judgment, presume to quarrel with the method, and dictate the terms by which his own pardon shall be secured? Even supposing, then, that there were no _intrinsic_ necessity for the offering of an infinite sacrifice to satisfy infinite justice, the Great God might still take the lofty ground of sovereignty, and say to the criminal: "My will shall stand for my reason; I decide to offer you amnesty and eternal joy, in this mode, and upon these terms. The reasons for my method are known to myself. Take mercy in this method, or take justice. Receive the forgiveness of sin in this mode, or else receive the eternal and just punishment of sin. Can I not do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil because I am good?" God is under no necessity to offer the forgiveness of sin to any criminal upon any terms; still less is He hedged up to a method of forgiveness prescribed by the criminal himself. Again, the same reasoning will apply to the _time during which the offer of mercy shall be extended_. If it is purely optional with God, whether He will pardon my sin at all, it is also purely optional with Him to fix the limits within which He will exercise the act of pardon. Should He tell me, that if I would confess and forsake my sins to-day, He would blot them out forever, but that the gracious offer should be withdrawn tomorrow, what conceivable ground of complaint could I discover? He is under no necessity of extending the pardon at this moment, and neither is He at the next, or any future one. Mercy is grace, and not debt. Now it has pleased God, to limit the period during which the work of Redemption shall go on. There is a point of time, for every sinful man, at which "there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin" (Heb. x. 26). The period of Redemption is confined to earth and time; and unless the sinner exercises repentance towards God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, before his spirit returns to God who gave it, there is no redemption for him through eternal ages. This fact we know by the declaration and testimony of God; in the same manner that we know that God will exercise mercy at all, and upon any conditions whatever. We have seen that we cannot establish the fact that the Deity will forgive sin, by any _a priori_ reasoning, but know it only because He has spoken a word to this effect, and given the world His promise to be gracious and merciful, In like manner, we do not establish the fact that there will be no second offer of forgiveness, in the future world, by any process of reasoning from the nature of the case, or the necessity of things. We are willing to concede to the objector, that for aught that we can see the Holy Ghost is as able to take of the things of Christ, and show them to a guilty soul, in the next world, as He is in this. So far as almighty power is concerned, the Divine Spirit could convince men of sin, and righteousness, and judgment, and incline them to repentance and faith, in eternity as well as in time. And it is equally true, that the Divine Spirit could have prevented the origin of sin itself, and the fall of Adam, with the untold woes that proceed therefrom. But it is not a question of power. It is a question of _intention_, of _determination_, and of _testimony_ upon the part of God. And He has distinctly declared in the written Revelation, that it is His intention to limit the converting and saving influences of His Spirit to time and earth. He tells the whole world unequivocally, that His spirit shall not always strive with man, and that the day of judgment which occurs at the end of this Dispensation of grace, is not a day of pardon but of doom. Christ's description of the scenes that will close up this Redemptive Economy,--the throne, the opened books, the sheep on the right hand and the goats on the left hand, the words of the Judge: "Come ye blessed, depart ye cursed,"--proves beyond controversy that "_now_ is the accepted time, and _now_ is the day of salvation." The utterance of our Redeeming God, by His servant David, is: "_To-day_ if ye will hear His voice harden not your hearts." St. Paul, in the Epistle to the Hebrews, informs the world, that as God sware that those Israelites who did not believe and obey His servant Moses, during their wanderings in the desert, should not enter the earthly Canaan, so those, in any age and generation of men, who do not believe and obey His Son Jesus Christ, during their earthly pilgrimage, shall, by the same Divine oath, be shut out of the eternal rest that remaineth for the people of God (Hebrews iii. 7-19). Unbelieving men, in eternity, will be deprived of the benefits of Christ's redemption, by the _oath_, the solemn _decision_, the judicial _determination_ of God. For, this exercise of mercy, of which we are speaking, is not a matter of course, and of necessity, and which therefore continues forever and forever. It is optional. God is entirely at liberty to pardon, or not to pardon. And He is entirely at liberty to say when, and how, and _how long_ the offer of pardon shall be extended. He had the power to carry the whole body of the people of Israel over Jordan, into the promised land, but He sware that those who proved refractory, and disobedient, during a _certain definite period of time_, should never enter Canaan. And, by His apostle, He informs all the generations of men, that the same principle will govern Him in respect to the entrance into the heavenly Canaan. The limiting of the offer of salvation to this life is not founded upon any necessity in the Divine Nature, but, like the offer of salvation itself, depends upon the sovereign pleasure and determination of God. That pleasure, and that determination, have been distinctly made known in the Scriptures. We know as clearly as we know anything revealed in the Bible, that God has decided to pardon here in time, and not to pardon in eternity. He has drawn a line between the present period, during which He makes salvation possible to man, and the future period, when He will not make it possible. And He had a right to draw that line, because mercy from first to last is the optional, and not the obligated agency of the Supreme Being. Therefore, _fear_ lest, a promise being left us of entering into His rest, any of you should seem to come short of it. For unto you is the gospel preached, as well as unto those Israelites; but the word, did not profit them, not being mixed with faith in them that heard it. Neither will it profit you, unless it is mixed with faith. God limiteth a certain day, saying in David, "_To-day_, after so long a time,"--after these many years of hearing and neglecting the offer of forgiveness,--"_to-day_, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts." Labor, therefore, _now_, to enter into that rest, lest any man fall, after the same example of unbelief, with those Israelites whom the oath of God shut out of both the earthly and the heavenly Canaan. [Footnote 1: Compare, also, the very full announcement of mercy as a Divine attribute that was to be exercised, in Exodus xxxiv. 6, 7. This is the more noteworthy, as it occurs in connection with the giving of the law.] [Footnote 2: Their creed lives in the satire of YOUNG (Universal Passion. Satire VI.),--as full of sense, truth, and pungency now, as it was one hundred years ago. "From atheists far, they steadfastly believe God is, and is Almighty--to _forgive_. His other excellence they'll not dispute; But mercy, sure, is His chief attribute. Shall pleasures of a short duration chain A lady's soul in everlasting pain? Will the great Author us poor worms destroy, For now and then a sip of transient joy? No, He's forever in a smiling mood; He's like themselves; or how could He be good? And they blaspheme, who blacker schemes suppose. Devoutly, thus, Jehovah they depose, The Pure! the Just! and set up in His stead, A deity that's perfectly well-bred."] [Footnote 3: Plutarch supposes a form of punishment in the future world that is disciplinary. If it accomplishes its purpose, the soul goes into Elysium,--a doctrine like that of purgatory in the Papal scheme. But in case the person proves incorrigible, his suffering is _endless_. He represents an individual as having been restored to life, and giving an account of what he had seen. Among other things, he "informed his friend, how that Adrastia, the daughter of Jupiter and Necessity, was seated in the highest place of all, to punish all manner of crimes and enormities, and that in the whole number of the wicked and ungodly there never was any one, whether great or little, high or low, rich or poor, that could ever by force or cunning escape the severe lashes of her rigor. But as there are three sorts of punishment, so there are three several Furies, or female ministers of justice, and to every one of these belongs a peculiar office and degree of punishment. The first of these was called [Greek: Poinae] or _Pain_; whose executions are swift and speedy upon those that are presently to receive bodily punishment in this life, and which she manages after a more gentle manner, omitting the correction of slight offences, which need but little expiation. But if the cure of impiety require a greater labor, the Deity delivers those, after death, to [Greek: Dikae] or _Vengeance_. But when Vengeance has given them over as altogether _incurable_, then the third and most severe of all Adrastia's ministers, [Greek: 'Erinys] or _Fury_, takes them in hand, and after she has chased and coursed them from one place to another, flying yet not knowing where to fly for shelter and relief, plagued and tormented with a thousand miseries, she plunges them headlong into an invisible abyss, the hideousness of which no tongue can express." PLUTARCH: Morals, Vol. IV. p. 210. Ed. 1694. PLATO (Gorgias 525. c.d. Ed. Bip. IV. 169) represents Socrates as teaching that those who "have committed the most extreme wickedness, and have become incurable through such crimes, are made an example to others, and suffer _forever_ ([Greek: paschontas ton aei chronon]) the greatest, most agonizing, and most dreadful punishment." And Socrates adds that "Homer (Odyssey xi. 575) also bears witness to this; for he represents kings and potentates, Tantalus, Sysiphus, and Tityus, as being tormented _forever_ in Hades" ([Greek: en adon ton aei chronon timoronmenos]).-In the Aztec or Mexican theology, "the wicked, comprehending the greater part of mankind, were to expiate their sin in a place of everlasting darkness." PRESCOTT: Conquest of Mexico, Vol. I. p. 62.] [Footnote 4: It may be objected, at this point, that mercy also is a necessary attribute in God, like justice itself,--that it necessarily belongs to the nature of a perfect Being, and therefore might be inferred _a priori_ by the pagan, like other attributes. This is true; but the objection overlooks the distinction between the _existence_ of an attribute and its _exercise_. Omnipotence necessarily belongs to the idea of the Supreme Being, but it does not follow that it must necessarily be _exerted_ in act. Because God is able to create the universe of matter and mind, it does not follow that he _must_ create it. The doctrine of the necessity of creation, though held in a few instances by theists who seem not to have discerned its logical consequences, is virtually pantheistic. Had God been pleased to dwell forever in the self-sufficiency of His Trinity, and never called the Finite into existence from nothing, He might have done so, and He would still have been omnipotent and "blessed forever." In like manner, the attribute of mercy might exist in God, and yet not be exerted. Had He been pleased to treat the human race as He did the fallen angels, He was perfectly at liberty to do so, and the number and quality of his immanent attributes would have been the same that they are now. But justice is an attribute which not only exists of necessity, but must be _exercised_ of necessity; because not to exercise it would be injustice.-For a fuller exposition of the nature of justice, see SHEDD: Discourses and Essays, pp. 291-300.] CHRISTIANITY REQUIRES THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. MARK x. 15.--"Verily I say unto you, whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein." These words of our Lord are very positive and emphatic, and will, therefore, receive a serious attention from every one who is anxious concerning his future destiny beyond the grave. For, they mention an indispensable requisite in order to an entrance into eternal life. "Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he _shall not_ enter therein." The occasion of their utterance is interesting, and brings to view a beautiful feature in the perfect character of Jesus Christ. The Redeemer was deeply interested in every age and condition of man. All classes shared in His benevolent affection, and all may equally partake of the rich blessings that flow from it. But childhood and youth seem to have had a special attraction for Him. The Evangelist is careful to inform us, that He took little children in His arms, and that beholding an amiable young man He loved him,--a gush of feeling went out towards him. It was because Christ was a perfect man, as well as the infinite God, that such a feeling dwelt in His breast. For, there has never been an uncommonly fair and excellent human character, in which tenderness and affinity for childhood has not been a quality, and a quality, too, that was no small part of the fairness and excellence. The best definition that has yet been given of genius itself is, that it is the carrying of the feelings of childhood onward into the thoughts and aspirations of manhood. He who is not attracted by the ingenuousness, and trustfulness, and simplicity, of the first period of human life, is certainly wanting in the finest and most delicate elements of nature, and character. Those who have been coarse and brutish, those who have been selfish and ambitious, those who have been the pests and scourges of the world, have had no sympathy with youth. Though once young themselves, they have been those in whom the gentle and generous emotions of the morning of life have died out. That man may become hardhearted, skeptical and sensual, a hater of his kind, a hater of all that is holy and good, he must divest himself entirely of the fresh and ingenuous feeling of early boyhood, and receive in its place that malign and soured feeling which is the growth, and sign, of a selfish and disingenuous life. It is related of Voltaire,--a man in whom evil dwelt in its purest and most defecated essence,--that he had no sympathy with the child, and that the children uniformly shrank from that sinister eye in which the eagle and the reptile were so strangely blended. Our Saviour, as a perfect man, then, possessed this trait, and it often showed itself in His intercourse with men. As an omniscient Being, He indeed looked with profound interest, upon the dawning life of the human spirit as it manifests itself in childhood. For He knew as no finite being can, the marvellous powers that sleep in the soul of the young child; the great affections which are to be the foundation of eternal bliss, or eternal pain, that exist in embryo within; the mysterious ideas that lie in germ far down in its lowest depths,--He knew, as no finite creature is able, what is in the child, as well as in the man, and therefore was interested in its being and its well-being. But besides this, by virtue of His perfect humanity, He was attracted by those peculiar traits which are seen in the earlier years of human life. He loved the artlessness and gentleness, the sense of dependence, the implicit trust, the absence of ostentation and ambition, the unconscious modesty, in one word, the _child-likeness_ of the child. Knowing this characteristic of the Redeemer, certain parents brought their young children to Him, as the Evangelist informs us, "that He should touch them;" either believing that there was a healthful virtue, connected with the touch of Him who healed the sick and gave life to the dead, that would be of benefit to them; or, it may be, with more elevated conceptions of Christ's person, and more spiritual desires respecting the welfare of their offspring, believing that the blessing (which was symbolized by the touch and laying on of hands) of so exalted a Being would be of greater worth than mere health of body. The disciples, thinking that mere children were not worthy of the regards of their Master, rebuked the anxious and affectionate parents. "But,"--continues the narrative,--"when Jesus saw it he was much displeased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God;" and then immediately explained what He meant by this last assertion, which is so often misunderstood and misapplied, by adding, in the words of the text, "Verily I say unto you, whosoever shall not _receive the kingdom of God as a little child"_ that is with a child-like spirit, "he shall not enter therein." For our Lord does not here lay down a doctrinal position, and affirm the moral innocence of childhood. He does not mark off and discriminate the children as sinless, from their parents as sinful, as if the two classes did not belong to the same race of beings, and were not involved in the same apostasy and condemnation. He merely sets childhood and manhood over-against each other as two distinct stages of human life, each possessing peculiar traits and tempers, and affirms that it is the meek spirit of childhood, and not the proud spirit of manhood, that welcomes and appropriates the Christian salvation. He is only contrasting the general attitude of a child, with the general attitude of a man. He merely affirms that the _trustful_ and _believing_ temper of childhood, as compared with the _self-reliant_ and _skeptical_ temper of manhood, is the temper by which both the child and the man are to receive the blessings of the gospel which both of them equally need. The kingdom of God is represented in the New Testament, sometimes as subjective, and sometimes as objective; sometimes as within the soul of man, and sometimes as up in the skies. Our text combines both representations; for, it speaks of a man's "receiving" the kingdom of God, and of a man's "entering" the kingdom of God; of the coming of heaven into a soul, and of the going of a soul into heaven. In other passages, one or the other representation appears alone. "The kingdom of God,"--says our Lord to the Pharisees,--"cometh not with observation. Neither shall they say, Lo here, or lo there: for behold the kingdom of God is within you." The apostle Paul, upon arriving at Rome, invited the resident Jews to discuss the subject of Christianity with him. "And when they had appointed him a day, there came many to him into his lodging, to whom he expounded and testified the kingdom of God,"--to whom he explained the nature of the Christian religion,--"persuading them concerning Jesus, both out of the law of Moses, and out of the prophets, from, morning till evening." The same apostle teaches the Romans, that "the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost;" and tells the Corinthians, that "the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power." In all these instances, the subjective signification prevails, and the kingdom of God is simply a system of truth, or a state of the heart. And all are familiar with the sentiment, that heaven is a state, as well as a place. All understand that one half of heaven is in the human heart itself; and, that if this half be wanting, the other half is useless,--as the half of a thing generally is. Isaac Walton remarks of the devout Sibbs: "Of this blest man, let this just praise be given, Heaven was in him, before he was in heaven." It is only because that in the eternal world the imperfect righteousness of the renewed man is perfected, and the peace of the anxious soul becomes total, and the joy that is so rare and faint in the Christian experience here upon earth becomes the very element of life and action,--it is only because eternity _completes_ the excellence of the Christian (but does not begin it), that heaven, as a place of perfect holiness and happiness, is said to be in the future life, and we are commanded to seek a better country even a heavenly. But, because this is so, let no one lose sight of the other side of the great truth, and forget that man must "receive" the kingdom as well as "enter" it. Without the right state of heart, without the mental correspondent to heaven, that beautiful and happy region on high will, like any and every other place, be a hell, instead of a paradise.[1] A distinguished writer represents one of his characters as leaving the Old World, and seeking happiness in the New, supposing that change of place and outward circumstances could cure a restless mind. He found no rest by the change; and in view of his disappointment says: "I will return, and in my ancestral home, amid my paternal fields, among my own people, I will say, _Here, or nowhere_, is America."[2] In like manner, must the Christian seek happiness in present peace and joy in the Holy Ghost, and must here in this life strive after the righteousness that brings tranquillity. Though he may look forward with aspiration to the new heavens and the new earth wherein dwelleth a _perfected_ righteousness, yet he must remember that his holiness and happiness there is merely an expansion of his holiness and happiness here. He must seek to "receive" the kingdom of God, as well as to "enter" it; and when tempted to relax his efforts, and to let down his watch, because the future life will not oppose so many obstacles to spirituality as this, and will bring a more perfect enjoyment with it, he should say to himself: "Be holy now, be happy here. _Here, or nowhere_, is heaven." Such being the nature of the kingdom of God, we are now brought up to the discussion of the subject of the text, and are prepared to consider: _In what respects, the kingdom of God requires the temper of a child as distinguished from the temper of a man, in order to receive it, and in order to enter it_. The kingdom of God, considered as a kingdom that is within the soul, is tantamount to religion. To receive this kingdom, then, is equivalent to receiving religion into the heart, so that the character shall be formed by it, and the future destiny be decided by it. What, then, is the religion that is to be received? We answer that it is the religion that is needed. But, the religion that is needed by a sinful man is very different from the religion that is adapted to a holy angel. He who has never sinned is already in direct and blessed relations with God, and needs only to drink in the overflowing and everflowing stream of purity and pleasure. Such a spirit requires a religion of only two doctrines: First, that there is a God; and, secondly, that He ought to be loved supremely and obeyed perfectly. This is the entire theology of the angels, and it is enough for them. They know nothing of sin in their personal experience, and consequently they require in their religion, none of those doctrines, and none of those provisions, which are adapted to the needs of sinners. But, man is in an altogether different condition from this. He too knows that there is a God, and that He ought to be loved supremely, and obeyed perfectly. Thus far, he goes along with the angel, and with every other rational being made under the law and government of God. But, at this point, his path diverges from that of the pure and obedient inhabitant of heaven, and leads in an opposite direction. For he does not, like the angels, act up to his knowledge. He is not conformed to these two doctrines. He does not love God supremely, and he does not obey Him perfectly. This fact puts him into a very different position, in reference to these two doctrines, from that occupied by the obedient and unfallen spirit. These two doctrines, in relation to him as one who has contravened them, have become a power of condemnation; and whenever he thinks of them he feels guilty. It is no longer sufficient to tell him. that religion consists in loving God, and enjoying His presence,--consists in holiness and happiness. "This is very true,"--he says,--"but I am neither holy nor happy." It is no longer enough to remind him that all is well with any creature who loves God with all his heart, and keeps His commandments without a single slip or failure. "This is very true,"--he says again,--"but I do not love in this style, neither have I obeyed in this manner." It is too late to preach mere natural religion, the religion of the angels, to one who has failed to stand fully and firmly upon the principles of natural religion. It is too late to tell a creature who has lost his virtue, that if he is only virtuous he is safe enough. The religion, then, that a sinner needs, cannot be limited to the two doctrines of the holiness of God, and the creature's obligation to love and serve Him,--cannot be pared down to the precept: Fear God and practise virtue. It must be greatly enlarged, and augmented, by the introduction of that other class of truths which relate to the Divine mercy towards those who have not feared God, and the Divine method of salvation for those who are sinful. In other words, the religion for a transgressor is _revealed_ religion, or the religion of Atonement and Redemption. What, now, is there in _this_ species of religion that necessitates the meek and docile temper of a child, as distinguished from the proud and self-reliant spirit of a man, in order to its reception into the heart? I. In the first place, _the New Testament religion offers the forgiveness of sins, and provides for it_. No one can ponder this fact an instant, without perceiving that the pride and self-reliance of manhood are excluded, and that the meekness and implicit trust of childhood are demanded. Pardon and justification before God must, from the nature of the case, be a gift, and a gift cannot be obtained unless it is accepted _as such_. To demand or claim mercy, is self-contradictory. For, a claim implies a personal ground for it; and this implies self-reliance, and this is "manhood" in distinction from "childhood." In coming, therefore, as the religion of the Cross does, before man with a gratuity, with an offer to pardon his sins, it supposes that he take a correspondent attitude. Were he sinless, the religion suited to him would be the mere utterance of law, and he might stand up before it with the serene brow of an obedient subject of the Divine government; though even then, not with a proud and boastful temper. It would be out of place for him, to plead guilty when he was innocent; or to cast himself upon mercy, when he could appeal to justice. If the creature's acceptance be of works, then it is no more of grace, otherwise work is no more work. But if it be by grace, then it is no more of works (Rom. xi. 6). If the very first feature of the Christian religion is the exhibition of clemency, then the proper and necessary attitude of one who receives it is that of humility. But, leaving this argument drawn from the characteristics, of Christianity as a religion of Redemption, let us pass into the soul of man, and see what we are taught there, respecting the temper which he must possess in order to receive this new, revealed kingdom of God. The soul of man is guilty. Now, there is something in the very nature of guilt that excludes the proud, self-conscious, self-reliant spirit of manhood, and necessitates the lowly, and dependent spirit of childhood. When conscience is full of remorse, and the holy eye of law is searching us, and fears of eternal banishment and punishment are rakeing the spirit, there is no remedy but simple confession, and childlike reliance upon absolute mercy. The sinner must be a softened child and not a hard man, he must beg a boon and not put in a claim, if he would receive this kingdom of God, this New Testament religion, into his soul. The slightest inclination to self-righteousness, the least degree of resistance to the just pressure of law, is a vitiating element in repentance. The muscles of the stout man must give way, the knees must bend, the hands must be uplifted deprecatingly, the eyes must gaze with a straining gaze upon the expiating Cross,--in other words, the least and last remains of a stout and self-asserting spirit must vanish, and the whole being must be pliant, bruised, broken, helpless in its state and condition, in order to a pure sense of guilt, a godly sorrow for sin, and a cordial appropriation of the atonement. The attempt to mix the two tempers, to mingle the child with the man, to confess sin and assert self-righteousness, must be an entire failure, and totally prevent the reception of the religion of Redemption. In relation to the Redeemer, the sinful soul should be a vacuum, a hollow void, destitute of everything holy and good, conscious that it is, and aching to be filled with the fulness of His peace and purity. And with reference to God, the Being whose function it is to pardon, we see the same necessity for this child-like spirit in the transgressor. How can God administer forgiveness, unless there is a correlated temper to receive it? His particular declarative act in blotting out sin depends upon the existence of penitence for sin. Where there is absolute hardness of heart, there can be no pardon, from the very nature of the case, and the very terms of the statement. Can God say to the hardened Judas: Son be of good cheer, thy sin is forgiven thee? Can He speak to the traitor as He speaks to the Magdalen? The difficulty is not upon the side of God. The Divine pity never lags behind any genuine human sorrow. No man was ever more eager to be forgiven than his Redeemer is to forgive him. No contrition for sin, upon the part of man, ever yet outran the readiness and delight of God to recognize it, and meet it with a free pardon. For, that very contrition itself is always the product of Divine grace, and proves that God is in advance of the soul. The father in the parable saw the son while he was a great way off, _before_ the son saw him, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. But while this is so, and is an encouragement to the penitent, it must ever be remembered that unless there is some genuine sorrow in the human soul, there can be no manifestation of the Divine forgiveness within it. Man cannot beat the air, and God cannot forgive impenitency. II. In the second place, the New Testament religion proposes _to create within man a clean heart, and to renew within him a right spirit_. Christianity not only pardons but sanctifies the human soul. And in accomplishing this latter work, it requires the same humble and docile temper that was demanded in the former instance. Holiness, even in an unfallen angel, is not an absolutely self-originated thing. If it were, the angel would be worthy of adoration and worship. He who is inwardly and totally excellent, and can also say: I am what I am by my own ultimate authorship, can claim for himself the _glory_ that is due to righteousness. Any self-originated and self-subsistent virtue is entitled to the hallelujahs. But, no created spirit, though he be the highest of the archangels, can make such an assertion, or put in such a claim. The merit of the unfallen angel, therefore, is a relative one; because his holiness is of a created and derived species. It is not increate and self-subsistent. This being so, it is plain that the proper attitude of all creatures in respect to moral excellence is a recipient and dependent one. But this is a meek and lowly attitude; and this is, in one sense, a child-like attitude. Our Lord knew no sin; and yet He himself tells us that He was meek and lowly of heart, and we well know that He was. He does not say that He was penitent. He does not propose himself as our exemplar in that respect. But, in respect to the primal, normal attitude which a finite being must ever take in reference to the infinite and adorable God, and the absolute underived Holiness; in reference to the true temper which a holy man or a holy angel must possess; our Lord Jesus Christ, in His human capacity, sets an example to be followed by the spirits of just men made perfect, and by all the holy inhabitants of heaven. In other words, He teaches the whole universe that holiness in a creature, even though it be complete, does not permit its possessor to be self-reliant, does not allow the proud spirit of manhood, does not remove the obligation to be child-like, meek, and lowly of heart. But if this is true of holiness among those who have never fallen, how much more true is it of those who have, and who need to be lifted up out of the abyss. If an angel, in reference to God, must be meek and lowly of heart; if the holy Redeemer must in His human capacity be meek and lowly of heart; if the child-like temper, in reference to the infinite and everlasting Father and the absolutely Good, is the proper one in such exalted instances as these; how much more is it in the instance of the vile and apostate children of Adam! Besides the original and primitive reason growing out of creaturely relationships, there is the superadded one growing out of the fact, that now the whole head is sick and the whole heart is faint, and from the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in human nature. Hence, our Lord began His Sermon on the Mount in these words: "Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek; for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled."[3] The very opening of this discourse, which He intended should go down through the ages as a manifesto declaring the real nature of His kingdom, and the spirit which His followers must possess, asserts the necessity of a needy, recipient, asking mind, upon the part of a sinner. All this phraseology implies destitution; and a destitution that cannot be self-supplied. He who hungers and thirsts after righteousness is conscious of an inward void, in respect to righteousness, that must be filled from abroad. He who is meek is sensible that he is dependent for his moral excellence. He who is poor in spirit is, not pusillanimous as Thomas Paine charged upon Christianity but, as John of Damascus said of himself, a man of spiritual cravings, _vir desideriorum_. Now, all this delineation of the general attitude requisite in order to the reception of the Christian religion is summed up again, in the declaration of our text: "Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God _as a little child_, he shall not enter therein." Is a man, then, sensible that his understanding is darkened by sin, and that he is destitute of clear and just apprehensions of divine things? Does his consciousness of inward poverty assume this form? If he would be delivered from his mental blindness, and be made rich in spiritual knowledge, he must adopt a teachable and recipient attitude. He must not assume that his own mind is the great fountain of wisdom, and seek to clear up his doubts and darkness by the rationalistic method of self-illumination. On the contrary, he must go beyond his mind and open a _book_, even the Book of Revelation, and search for the wisdom it contains and proffers. And yet more than this. As this volume is the product of the Eternal Spirit himself, and this Spirit conspires with the doctrines which He has revealed, and exerts a positive illuminating influence, he must seek communion therewith. From first to last, therefore, the darkened human spirit must take a waiting posture, in order to enlightenment. That part of "the clean heart and the right spirit" which consists in the _knowledge_ of divine things can be obtained only through a child-like bearing and temper. This is what our Lord means, when He pronounces a blessing upon the poor in spirit, the hungry and the thirsting soul. Men, in their pride and self-reliance, in their sense of manhood, may seek to enter the kingdom of heaven by a different method; they may attempt to _speculate_ their way through all the mystery that overhangs human life, and the doubts that confuse and baffle the human understanding; but when they find that the unaided intellect only "spots a thicker gloom" instead of pouring a serener ray, wearied and worn they return, as it were, to the sweet days of childhood, and in the gentleness, and tenderness, and docility of an altered mood, learn, as Bacon did in respect to the kingdom of nature, that the kingdom of heaven is open only to the little child. Again, is a man conscious of the corruption of his heart? Has he discovered his alienation from the life and love of God, and is he now aware that a total change must pass upon him, or that alienation must be everlasting? Has he found out that his inclinations, and feelings, and tastes, and sympathies are so worldly, so averse from spiritual objects, as to be beyond his sovereignty? Does he feel vividly that the attempt to expel this carnal mind, and to induce in the place thereof the heavenly spontaneous glow of piety towards God and man, is precisely like the attempt of the Ethiopian to change his skin, and the leopard his spots? If this experience has been forced upon him, shall he meet it with the port and bearing of a strong man? Shall he take the attitude of the old Roman stoic, and attempt to meet the exigencies of his moral condition, by the steady strain and hard tug of his own force? He cannot long do this, under the clear searching ethics of the Sermon on the Mount, without an inexpressible weariness and a profound despair. Were he within the sphere of paganism, it might, perhaps, be otherwise. A Marcus Aurelius could maintain this legal and self-righteous position to the end of life, because his ideal of virtue was a very low one. Had that high-minded pagan felt the influences of Christian ethics, had the Sermon on the Mount searched his soul, telling him that the least emotion of pride, anger, or lust, was a breach of that everlasting law which stood grand and venerable before his philosophic eye, and that his virtue was all gone, and his soul was exposed to the inflictions of justice, if even a single thought of his heart was unconformed to the perfect rule of right,--if, instead of the mere twilight of natural religion, there had flared into his mind the fierce and consuming splendor of the noonday sun of revealed truth, and New Testament ethics, it would have been impossible for that serious-minded emperor to say, as in his utter self-delusion he did, to the Deity: "Give me my dues,"--instead of breathing the prayer: "Forgive me my debts." Christianity elevates the standard and raises the ideal of moral excellence, and thereby disturbs the self-complacent feeling of the stoic, and the moralist. If the law and rule of right is merely an outward one, it is possible for a man sincerely to suppose that he has kept the law, and his sincerity will be his ruin. For, in this case, he can maintain a self-reliant and a self-satisfied spirit, the spirit of manhood, to the very end of his earthly career, and go with his righteousness which is as filthy rags, into the presence of Him in whose sight the heavens are not clean. But, if the law and rule of right is seen to be an inward and spiritual statute, piercing to the dividing asunder of the soul and spirit, and becoming a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart, it is not possible for a candid man to delude himself into the belief that he has perfectly obeyed it; and in this instance, that self-dissatisfied spirit, that consciousness of internal schism and bondage, that war between the flesh and the spirit so vividly portrayed in the seventh chapter of Romans, begins, and instead of the utterance of the moralist: "I have kept the everlasting law, give me my dues," there bursts forth the self-despairing cry of the penitent and the child: "O wretched man that I am.! who shall deliver me? Father I have sinned against heaven and before thee." When, therefore, the truth and Spirit of God, working in and with the natural conscience, have brought a man to that point where he sees that all his own righteousness is as filthy rags, and that the pure and stainless righteousness of Jehovah must become the possession and the characteristic of his soul, he is prepared to believe the declaration of our text: "Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein." The new heart, and the right spirit,--the change, not in the mere external behavior but, in the very disposition and inclination of the soul,--excludes every jot and tittle of self-assertion, every particle of proud and stoical manhood. Such a text as this which we have been considering is well adapted to put us upon the true method of attaining everlasting life. These few and simple words actually dropped, eighteen hundred years ago, from the lips of that august Being who is now seated upon the throne of heaven, and who knows this very instant the effect which they are producing in the heart of every one who either reads or hears them. Let us remember that these few and simple words do verily contain the key to everlasting life and glory. In knowing what they mean, we know, infallibly, the way to heaven. "I tell you, that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which we see, and have not seen them: and to hear those things which we hear, and have not heard them." How many a thoughtful pagan, in the centuries that have passed and gone, would in all probability have turned a most attentive ear, had he heard, as we do, from the lips of an unerring Teacher, that a child-like reception of a certain particular truth,--and that not recondite and metaphysical, but simple as childhood itself, and to be received by a little child's act,--would infallibly conduct to the elysium that haunted and tantalized him. That which hinders us is our pride, our "manhood." The act of faith is a child's act; and a child's act, though intrinsically the easiest of any, is relatively the most difficult of all. It implies the surrender of our self-will, our self-love, our proud manhood; and never was a truer remark made than that of Ullmann, that "in no one thing is the strength of a man's will so manifested, as in his having no will of his own."[4] "Christianity,"--says Jeremy Taylor,--"is the easiest and the hardest thing in the world. It is like a secret in arithmetic; infinitely hard till it be found out by a right operation, and then it is so plain we wonder we did not understand it earlier." How hard, how impossible without that Divine grace which makes all such central and revolutionary acts easy and genial to the soul,--how hard it is to cease from our own works, and really become docile and recipient children, believing on the Lord Jesus Christ, and trusting in Him, simply and solely, for salvation. [Footnote 1: "Concerning the object of felicity in heaven, we are agreed that it can be no other than the blessed God himself, the all-comprehending good, fully adequate to the highest and most enlarged reasonable desires. But the contemperation of our faculties to the holy, blissful object, is so necessary to our satisfying fruition, that without this we are no more capable thereof, than a brute of the festivities of a quaint oration, or a stone of the relishes of the most pleasant meats and drinks." HOWE: Heaven a State of Perfection.] [Footnote 2: GOETHE: Wilhelm Meister, Book VII., ch. iii.] [Footnote 3: Compare Isaiah lxi. 1.] [Footnote 4: ULLMANN: Sinlessness of Jesus, Pt. I., Ch. iii., § 2.] FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. JOHN vi. 28, 29.--"Then said they unto him, What shall we do, that we might work the works of God? Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent." In asking their question, the Jews intended to inquire of Christ what _particular_ things they must do, before all others, in order to please God. The "works of God," as they denominate them, were not any and every duty, but those more special and important acts, by which the creature might secure the Divine approval and favor. Our Lord understood their question in this sense, and in His reply tells them, that the great and only work for them to do was to exercise faith in Him. They had employed the plural number in their question; but in His answer He employs the singular. They had asked, What shall we do that we might work the _works_ of God,--as if there were several of them. His reply is, "This is the _work_ of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent." He narrows down the terms of salvation to a single one; and makes the destiny of the soul to depend upon the performance of a particular individual act. In this, as in many other incidental ways, our Lord teaches His own divinity. If He were a mere creature; if He were only an inspired teacher like David or Paul; how would He dare, when asked to give in a single word the condition and means of human salvation, to say that they consist in resting the soul upon Him? Would David have dared to say: "This is the work of God,--this is the saving act,--that ye believe in me?" Would Paul have presumed to say to the anxious inquirer: "Your soul is safe, if you trust in me?" But Christ makes this declaration, without any qualification. Yet He was meek and lowly of heart, and never assumed an honor or a prerogative that did not belong to Him. It is only upon the supposition that He was "very God of very God," the Divine Redeemer of the children of men, that we can justify such an answer to such a question. The belief is spontaneous and natural to man, that something must be _done_ in order to salvation. No man expects to reach heaven by inaction. Even the indifferent and supine soul expects to rouse itself up at some future time, and work out its salvation. The most thoughtless and inactive man, in religious respects, will acknowledge that thoughtlessness and inactivity if continued will end in perdition. But he intends at a future day to think, and act, and be saved. So natural is it, to every man, to believe in salvation by works; so ready is every one to concede that heaven is reached, and hell is escaped, only by an earnest effort of some kind; so natural is it to every man to ask with these Jews, "What shall we _do_, that we may work the works of God?" But mankind generally, like the Jews in the days of our Lord, are under a delusion respecting the _nature_ of the work which must be performed in order to salvation. And in order to understand this delusion, we must first examine the common notion upon the subject. When a man begins to think of God, and of his own relations to Him, he finds that he owes Him service and obedience. He has a work to perform, as a subject of the Divine government; and this work is to obey the Divine law. He finds himself obligated to love God with all his heart, and his neighbor as himself, and to discharge all the duties that spring out of his relations to God and man. He perceives that this is the "work" given him to do by creation, and that if he does it he will attain the true end of his existence, and be happy in time and eternity. When therefore he begins to think of a religious life, his first spontaneous impulse is to begin the performance of this work which he has hitherto neglected, and to reinstate himself in the Divine favor by the ordinary method of keeping the law of God. He perceives that this is the mode in which the angels preserve themselves holy and happy; that this is the original mode appointed by God, when He established the covenant of works; and he does not see why it is not the method for him. The law expressly affirms that the man that doeth these things shall live by them; he proposes to take the law just as it reads, and just as it stands,--to do the deeds of the law, to perform the works which it enjoins, and to live by the service. This we say, is the common notion, natural to man, of the species of work which must be performed in order to eternal life. This was the idea which filled the mind of the Jews when they put the question of the text, and received for answer from Christ, "This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent." Our Lord does not draw out the whole truth, in detail. He gives only the positive part of the answer, leaving His hearers to infer the negative part of it. For the whole doctrine of Christ, fully stated, would run thus: "No work _of the kind of which you are thinking_ can save you; no obedience of the law, ceremonial or moral, can reinstate you in right relations to God. I do not summon you to the performance of any such service as that which you have in mind, in order to your justification and acceptance before the Divine tribunal. _This_ is the work of God,--this is the sole and single act which you are to perform,--namely, that you _believe_ on Him whom He hath sent as a propitiation for sin. I do not summon you to works of the law, but to faith in Me the Redeemer. Your first duty is not to attempt to acquire a righteousness in the old method, by doing something of yourselves, but to receive a righteousness in the new method, by trusting in what another has done for you." I. What is the _ground_ and _reason_ of such an answer as this? Why is man invited to the method of faith in another, instead of the method of faith in himself? Why is not his first spontaneous thought the true one? Why should he not obtain eternal life by resolutely proceeding to do his duty, and keeping the law of God? Why can he not be saved by the law of works? Why is he so summarily shut up to the law of faith? We answer: Because it is _too late_ for him to adopt the method of salvation by works. The law is indeed explicit in its assertion, that the man that doeth these things shall live by them; but then it supposes that the man begin at the beginning. A subject of government cannot disobey a civil statute for five or ten years, and then put himself in right relations to it again, by obeying it for the remainder of his life. Can a man who has been a thief or an adulterer for twenty years, and then practises honesty and purity for the following thirty years, stand up before the seventh and eighth commandments and be acquitted by them? It is too late for any being who has violated a law even in a single instance, to attempt to be justified by that law. For, the law demands and supposes that obedience begin at the very _beginning_ of existence, and continue down _uninterruptedly_ to the end of it. No man can come in at the middle of a process of obedience, any more than he can come in at the last end of it, if he proposes to be accepted upon the ground of _obedience_. "I testify," says St. Paul, "to every man that is circumcised, that he is a debtor to do the _whole_ law" (Gal. v. 3). The whole, or none, is the just and inexorable rule which law lays down in the matter of justification. If any subject of the Divine government can show a clean record, from the beginning to the end of his existence, the statute says to him, "Well done," and gives him the reward which he has earned. And it gives it to him not as a matter of grace, but of debt. The law never makes a present of wages. It never pays out wages, until they are earned,---fairly and fully earned. But when a perfect obedience from first to last is rendered to its claims, the compensation follows as matter of debt. The law, in this instance, is itself brought under obligation. It owes a reward to the perfectly obedient subject of law, and it considers itself his debtor until it is paid. "Now to him that worketh, is the reward not reckoned of grace, but of debt. If it be of works, then it is no more grace: otherwise work is no more work" (Rom. iv. 4; xi. 6). But, on the other hand, law is equally exact and inflexible, in case the work has not been performed. It will not give eternal life to a soul that has sinned ten years, and then perfectly obeyed ten years,--supposing that there is any such soul. The obedience, as we have remarked, must run parallel with the _entire_ existence, in order to be a ground, of justification. Infancy, childhood, youth, manhood, old age, and then the whole immortality that succeeds, must all be unintermittently sinless and holy, in order to make eternal life a matter of debt. Justice is as exact and punctilious upon this side, as it is upon the other. We have seen, that when a perfect obedience has been rendered, justice will not palm off the wages that are due as if they were some gracious gift; and on the other hand, when a perfect obedience has not been rendered, it will not be cajoled into the bestowment of wages as if they had been earned. There is no principle that is so intelligent, so upright, and so exact, as justice; and no creature can expect either to warp it, or to circumvent it. In the light of these remarks, it is evident that it is _too late_ for a sinner to avail himself of the method of salvation by works. For, that method requires that sinless obedience begin at the beginning of his existence, and never be interrupted. But no man thus begins, and no man thus continues. "The wicked are estranged from the womb; they go astray as soon as they be born, speaking lies" (Ps. lviii. 3). Man comes into the world a sinful and alienated creature. He is by nature a child of wrath (Eph. ii. 3). Instead of beginning life with holiness, he begins it with sin. His heart at birth is apostate and corrupt; and his conduct from the very first is contrary to law. Such is the teaching of Scripture, such is the statement of the Creeds, and such is the testimony of consciousness, respecting the character which man brings into the world with him. The very dawn of human life is clouded with depravity; is marked by the carnal mind which is at enmity with the law of God, and is not subject to that law, neither indeed can be. How is it possible, then, for man to attain eternal life by a method that supposes, and requires, that the very dawn of his being be holy like that of Christ's, and that every thought, feeling, purpose, and act be conformed to law through the entire existence? Is it not _too late_ for such a creature as man now is to adopt the method of salvation by the works of the law? But we will not crowd you, with the doctrine of native depravity and the sin in Adam. We have no doubt that it is the scriptural and true doctrine concerning human nature; and have no fears that it will be contradicted by either a profound self-knowledge, or a profound metaphysics. But perhaps you are one who doubts it; and therefore, for the sake of argument, we will let you set the commencement of sin where you please. If you tell us that it begins in the second, or the fourth, or the tenth year of life, it still remains true that it is _too late_ to employ the method of justification by works. If you concede any sin at all, at any point whatsoever, in the history of a human soul, you preclude it from salvation by the deeds of the law, and shut it up to salvation by grace. Go back as far as you can in your memory, and you must acknowledge that you find sin as far as you go; and even if, in the face of Scripture and the symbols of the Church, you should deny that the sin runs back to birth and apostasy in Adam, it still remains true that the first years of your _conscious_ existence were not years of holiness, nor the first acts which you _remember_, acts of obedience. Even upon your own theory, you _begin_ with sin, and therefore you cannot be justified by the law. This, then, is a conclusive reason and ground for the declaration of our Lord, that the one great work which every fallen man has to perform, and must perform, in order to salvation, is faith in _another's_ work, and confidence in _another's_ righteousness. If man is to be saved by his own righteousness, that righteousness must begin at the very beginning of his existence, and go on without interruption. If he is to be saved by his own good works, there never must be a single instant in his life when he is not working such works. But beyond all controversy such is not the fact. It is, therefore, impossible for him to be justified by trusting in himself; and the only possible mode that now remains, is to trust in another. II. And this brings us to the second part of our subject. "This is the work of God, that ye _believe_ on him whom He hath sent." It will be observed that faith is here denominated a "work." And it is so indeed. It is a mental act; and an act of the most comprehensive and energetic species. Faith is an active principle that carries the whole man with it, and in it,--head and heart, will and affections, body soul and spirit. There is no act so all-embracing in its reach, and so total in its momentum, as the act of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. In this sense, it is a "work." It is no supine and torpid thing; but the most vital and vigorous activity that can be conceived of. When a sinner, moved by the Holy Ghost the very source of spiritual life and energy, casts himself in utter helplessness, and with all his weight, upon his Redeemer for salvation, never is he more active, and never does he do a greater work. And yet, faith is not a work in the common signification of the word. In the Pauline Epistles, it is generally opposed to works, in such a way as to exclude them. For example: "Where is boasting then? It is excluded. By what law? of works? Nay, but by the law of faith. Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith, without the deeds of the law. Knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified, by the faith of Christ and not by the works of the law. Received ye the Spirit, by the works of the law, or by the hearing of faith?"[1] In these and other passages, faith and works are directly contrary to each other; so that in this connection, faith is not a "work." Let us examine this point, a little in detail, for it will throw light upon the subject under discussion. In the opening of the discourse, we alluded to the fact that when a man's attention is directed to the subject of his soul's salvation, his first spontaneous thought is, that he must of _himself_ render something to God, as an offset for his sins; that he must perform his duty by _his own_ power and effort, and thereby acquire a personal merit before his Maker and Judge. The thought of appropriating another person's work, of making use of what another being has done in his stead, does not occur to him; or if it does, it is repulsive to him. His thought is, that it is his own soul that is to be saved, and it is his own work that must save it. Hence, he begins to perform religious duties in the ordinary use of his own faculties, and in his own strength, for the purpose, and with the expectation, of _settling the account_ which he knows is unsettled, between himself and his Judge. As yet, there is no faith in another Being. He is not trusting and resting in another person; but he is trusting and resting in himself. He is not making use of the work or services which another has wrought in his behalf, but he is employing his own powers and faculties, in performing these his own works, which he owes, and which, if paid in this style, he thinks will save his soul. This is the spontaneous, and it is the correct, idea of a "work,"--of what St. Paul so often calls a "work of the law." And it is the exact contrary of faith. For, faith never does anything in this independent and self-reliant manner. It does not perform a service in its own strength, and then hold it out to God as something for Him to receive, and for which He must pay back wages in the form of remitting sin and bestowing happiness. Faith is wholly occupied with _another's_ work, and _another's_ merit. The believing soul deserts all its own doings, and betakes itself to what a third person has wrought for it, and in its stead. When, for illustration, a sinner discovers that he owes a satisfaction to Eternal Justice for the sins that are past, if he adopts the method of works, he will offer up his endeavors to obey the law, as an offset, and a reason why he should be forgiven. He will say in his heart, if he does not in his prayer: "I am striving to atone for the past, by doing my duty in the future; my resolutions, my prayers and alms-giving, all this hard struggle to be better and to do better, ought certainly to avail for my pardon." Or, if he has been educated in a superstitious Church, he will offer up his penances, and mortifications, and pilgrimages, as a satisfaction to justice, and a reason why he should be forgiven and made blessed forever in heaven. That is a very instructive anecdote which St. Simon relates respecting the last hours of the profligate Louis XIV. "One day,"--he says,--"the king recovering from loss of consciousness asked his confessor, Pere Tellier, to give him absolution for all his sins. Pere Tellier asked him if he suffered much. 'No,' replied the king, 'that's what troubles me. I should like to suffer more, for the expiation of my sins.'" Here was a poor mortal who had spent his days in carnality and transgression of the pure law of God. He is conscious of guilt, and feels the need of its atonement. And now, upon the very edge of eternity and brink of doom, he proposes to make his own atonement, to be his own redeemer and save his own soul, by offering up to the eternal nemesis that was racking his conscience a few hours of finite suffering, instead of betaking himself to the infinite passion and agony of Calvary. This is a work; and, alas, a "_dead_ work," as St. Paul so often denominates it. This is the method of justification by works. But when a man adopts the method of justification by faith, his course is exactly opposite to all this. Upon discovering that he owes a satisfaction to Eternal Justice for the sins that are past, instead of holding up his prayers, or alms-giving, or penances, or moral efforts, or any work of his own, he holds up the sacrificial work of Christ. In his prayer to God, he interposes the agony and death of the Great Substitute between his guilty soul, and the arrows of justice.[2] He knows that the very best of his own works, that even the most perfect obedience that a creature could render, would be pierced through and through by the glittering shafts of violated law. And therefore he takes the "shield of faith." He places the oblation of the God-man,--not his own work and not his own suffering, but another's work and another's suffering,--between himself and the judicial vengeance of the Most High. And in so doing, he works no work of his own, and no dead work; but he works the "work of God;" he _believes_ on Him whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation for his sins, and not for his only but for the sins of the whole world. This then is the great doctrine which our Lord taught the Jews, when they asked Him what particular thing or things they must do in order to eternal life. The apostle John, who recorded the answer of Christ in this instance, repeats the doctrine again in his first Epistle: "Whatsoever we ask, we receive of Him, because we keep His commandment, and do those things that are pleasing in His sight. And _this is His commandment_, that we should _believe_ on the name of His Son Jesus Christ" (1 John iii, 22, 23). The whole duty of sinful man is here summed up, and concentrated, in the duty to trust in another person than himself, and in another work than his own. The apostle, like his Lord before him, employs the singular number: "This is His commandment,"--as if there were no other commandment upon record. And this corresponds with the answer which Paul and Silas gave to the despairing jailor: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ,"--do this one single thing,--"and thou shalt be saved." And all of these teachings accord with that solemn declaration of our Lord: "He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life; and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him." In the matter of salvation, where there is faith in Christ, there is everything; and where there is not faith in Christ, there is nothing. 1. And it is with this thought that we would close this discourse, and enforce the doctrine of the text. Do whatever else you may in the matter of religion, you have done nothing until you have believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, whom God hath, sent into the world to be the propitiation for sin. There are two reasons for this. In the first place, it is _the appointment and declaration of God_, that man, if saved at all, must be saved by faith in the Person and Work of the Mediator. "Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved" (Acts iv. 12). It of course rests entirely with the Most High God, to determine the mode and manner in which He will enter into negotiations with His creatures, and especially with His rebellious creatures. He must make the terms, and the creature must come to them. Even, therefore, if we could not see the reasonableness and adaptation of the method, we should be obligated to accept it. The creature, and particularly the guilty creature, cannot dictate to his Sovereign and Judge respecting the terms and conditions by which he is to be received into favor, and secure eternal life. Men overlook this fact, when they presume as they do, to sit in judgment upon the method of redemption by the blood of atonement and to quarrel with it. In the first Punic war, Hannibal laid siege to Saguntum, a rich and strongly-fortified city on the eastern coast of Spain. It was defended with a desperate obstinacy by its inhabitants. But the discipline, the energy, and the persistence of the Carthaginian army, were too much for them; and just as the city was about to fall, Alorcus, a Spanish chieftain, and a mutual friend of both of the contending parties, undertook to mediate between them. He proposed to the Saguntines that they should surrender, allowing the Carthaginian general to make his own terms. And the argument he used was this: "Your city is captured, in any event. Further resistance will only bring down upon you the rage of an incensed soldiery, and the horrors of a sack. Therefore, surrender immediately, and take whatever Hannibal shall please to give. You cannot lose anything by the procedure, and you may gain something, even though it be little."[3] Now, although there is no resemblance between the government of the good and merciful God and the cruel purposes and conduct of a heathen warrior, and we shrink from bringing the two into any kind of juxtaposition, still, the advice of the wise Alorcus to the Saguntines is good advice for every sinful man, in reference to his relations to Eternal Justice. We are all of us at the mercy of God. Should He make no terms at all; had He never given His Son to die for our sins, and never sent His Spirit to exert a subduing influence upon our hard hearts, but had let guilt and justice take their inexorable course with us; not a word could be uttered against the procedure by heaven, earth, or hell. No creature, anywhere can complain of justice. That is an attribute that cannot even be attacked. But the All-Holy is also the All-Merciful. He has made certain terms, and has offered certain conditions of pardon, without asking leave of His creatures and without taking them into council, and were these terms as strict as Draco, instead of being as tender and pitiful as the tears and blood of Jesus, it would become us criminals to make no criticisms even in that extreme case, but accept them precisely as they were offered by the Sovereign and the Arbiter. We exhort you, therefore, to take these terms of salvation simply as they are given, asking no questions, and being thankful that there are any terms at all between the offended majesty of Heaven and the guilty criminals of earth. Believe on Him whom God hath sent, because it is the appointment and declaration of God, that if guilty man is to be saved at all, he must be saved by faith in the Person and Work of the Mediator. The very disposition to quarrel with this method implies arrogance in dealing with the Most High. The least inclination to alter the conditions shows that the creature is attempting to criticise the Creator, and, what is yet more, that the criminal has no true perception of his crime, no sense of his exposed and helpless situation, and presumes to dictate the terms of his own pardon! 2. We might therefore leave the matter here, and there would be a sufficient reason for exercising the act of faith in Christ. But there is a second and additional reason which we will also briefly urge upon you. Not only is it the Divine appointment, that man shall be saved, if saved at all, by the substituted work of another; but there are _needs_, there are crying _wants_, in the human conscience, that can be supplied by no other method. There is a perfect _adaptation_ between the Redemption that is in Christ Jesus, and the guilt of sinners. As we have seen, we could reasonably urge you to Believe in Him whom God hath sent, simply because God has sent Him, and because He has told you that He will save you through no other name and in no other way, and will save you in this name and in this way. But we now urge you to the act of faith in this substituted work of Christ, because it has an _atoning_ virtue, and can pacify a perturbed and angry conscience; can wash out the stains of guilt that are grained into it; can extract the sting of sin which ulcerates and burns there. It is the idea of _expiation_ and _satisfaction_ that we now single out, and press upon your notice. Sin must be expiated,--expiated either by the blood of the criminal, or by the blood of his Substitute. You must either die for your own sin, or some one who is able and willing must die for you. This is founded and fixed in the nature of God, and the nature of man, and the nature of sin. There is an eternal and necessary connection between crime and penalty. The wages of sin is death. But, all this inexorable necessity has been completely provided for, by the sacrificial work of the Son of God. In the gospel, God satisfies His own justice for the sinner, and now offers you the full benefit of the satisfaction, if you will humbly and penitently accept it. "What compassion can equal the words of God the Father addressed to the sinner condemned to eternal punishment, and having no means of redeeming himself: 'Take my Only-Begotten Son, and make Him an offering for thyself;' or the words of the Son: 'Take Me, and ransom thy soul?' For this is what _both_ say, when they invite and draw man to faith in the gospel."[4] In urging you, therefore, to trust in Christ's vicarious sufferings for sin, instead of going down to hell and suffering for sin in your own person; in entreating you to escape the stroke of justice upon yourself, by believing in Him who was smitten in your stead, who "was wounded for your transgressions and bruised for your iniquities;" in beseeching you to let the Eternal Son of God be your Substitute in this awful judicial transaction; we are summoning you to no arbitrary and irrational act. The peace of God which it will introduce into your conscience, and the love of God which it will shed abroad through your soul, will be the most convincing of all proofs that the act of faith in the great Atonement does no violence to the ideas and principles of the human constitution. No act that contravenes those intuitions and convictions which are part and particle of man's moral nature could possibly produce peace and joy. It would be revolutionary and anarchical. The soul could not rest an instant. And yet it is the uniform testimony of all believers in the Lord Jesus Christ, that the act of simple confiding faith in His blood and righteousness is the most peaceful, the most joyful act they ever performed,--nay, that it was the first _blessed_ experience they ever felt in this world of sin, this world of remorse, this world of fears and forebodings concerning judgment and doom. Is the question, then, of the Jews, pressing upon your mind? Do you ask, What one particular single thing shall I do, that I may be safe for time and eternity? Hear the answer of the Son of God Himself: "This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent." [Footnote 1: Romans iii. 27, 28; Galatians ii. 16, iii. 2.] [Footnote 2: The religious teacher is often asked to define the act of faith, and explain the way and manner in which the soul is to exercise it. "_How_ shall I believe?" is the question with which the anxious mind often replies to the gospel injunction to believe. Without pretending that it is a complete answer, or claiming that it is possible, in the strict meaning of the word, to explain so simple and so profound an act as faith, we think, nevertheless, that it assists the inquiring mind to say, that whoever _asks in prayer_ for any one of the benefits of Christ's redemption, in so far exercises faith in this redemption. Whoever, for example, lifts up the supplication, "O Lamb of God who takest away the sins of the world, grant me thy peace," in this prayer puts faith in the atonement, He trusts in the atonement, by _pleading_ the atonement,--by mentioning it, in his supplication, as the reason why he may be forgiven. In like manner, he who asks for the renewing and sanctifying influences of the Holy Ghost exercises faith, in these influences. This is the mode in which he expresses his _confidence_ in the power of God to accomplish a work in his heart that is beyond his own power. Whatever, therefore, be the particular benefit in Christ's redemption that one would trust in, and thereby make personally his own, that he may live by it and be blest by it,--be it the atoning blood, or be it the indwelling Spirit,--let him _ask_ for that benefit. If he would trust _in_ the thing, let him ask _for_ the thing. Since writing the above, we have met with a corroboration of this view, by a writer of the highest authority upon such points. "Faith is that inward sense and act, of which prayer is the _expression_; as is evident, because in the same manner as the freedom of grace, according to the gospel covenant, is often set forth by this, that he that _believes_, receives; so it also oftentimes is by this, that he that _asks_, or _prays_, or _calls upon_ God, receives. 'Ask and it shall be given you; seek and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened. And all things whatsoever ye shall _ask in prayer, believing_, ye shall receive (Matt. vii. 7, 8; Mark xi. 24). If ye _abide_ in me and my words abide in you, ye shall _ask_ what ye will, and it shall be done unto you' (John xv. 7). Prayer is often plainly spoken of as the expression of faith. As it very certainly is in Romans x. 11-14: 'For the Scripture saith, Whosoever _believeth_ on him shall not be ashamed. For there is no difference between the Jew and the Greek: for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that _call_ upon him; for whosoever shall _call_ upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. 'How then shall they _call_ on him in whom they have not _believed_.' Christian prayer is called the prayer of _faith_ (James v. 15). 'I will that men everywhere lift up holy hands, without wrath and _doubting_ (1 Tim. ii. 8). Draw near in full assurance of _faith_' (Heb. x. 22). The same expressions that are used, in Scripture, for faith, may well be used for prayer also; such as _coming_ to God or Christ, and _looking_ to Him. 'In whom we have boldness and _access_ with confidence, by the _faith_ of him' (Eph. iii. 12)." EDWARDS: Observations concerning Faith.] [Footnote 3: Livius: Historia, Lib. xxi. 12.] [Footnote 4: ANSELM: Cur Deus Homo? II. 20.] 
16979	----	THE DISCIPLINE OF WAR _Nine Addresses on the Lessons of the War in Connection with Lent_ FROM ASH WEDNESDAY to EASTER SUNDAY WITH AN APPENDIX CONTAINING SUGGESTED SUBJECT FOR MEDITATION, AND SUITABLE PASSAGE OF SCRIPTURE, FOR EACH DAY IN LENT BY THE REV. J. HASLOCH POTTER, M.A. _Hon. Canon of Southwark and Vicar of St. Mark's, Surbiton, Surrey_ London SKEFFINGTON & SON 34, Southampton Street, Strand, W.C. _Publishers to His Majesty the King_ 1915 AUTHOR'S PREFACE The war has introduced into countless lives new conditions, and has strangely modified, or emphasised, those already existing. These Addresses, prepared under much stress of other work, are intended to supply, in very simple fashion, hints for conduct and points for thought along the lines of our fresh or deepened responsibilities. An Appendix gives a suggested subject and a passage of Scripture for each day during Lent. May God the Holy Ghost, without Whom man's best labours are in vain, bless this little book to its purpose. Please say a prayer for the writer, who, as much as any, needs grace that he may try to practise what he preaches. J. HASLOCH POTTER. Surbiton. The Conversion of St. Paul. 1915. FOREWORD Kingston House, Clapham Common. _January 19th, 1915._ My dear Canon,-- You have invited me to say a few words introductory to the little book you are putting forth, and of which you have sent me the advance proofs. From the great excellence of that which I have read, I am convinced that your Lenten meditations on the Discipline of War, will be of pre-eminently spiritual value in a time when publications on the subject are multiplied. That the war is to leave us on a higher plane of self-discipline, and with higher ideals of citizen life and responsibility, every Christian must acknowledge. Your little Lenten scheme is just that which is needed to give reality and action to what might otherwise be left in the realm of theory. May the Holy Spirit make use of your work to the benefit of us all and for the Glory of God. Your sincere friend, CECIL HOOK, _Bishop._ CONTENTS I PAGE The Discipline of the Will 1 II The Discipline of the Body 9 III The Discipline of the Soul 18 IV The Discipline of the Spirit 27 V Discipline through Obedience 35 VI The Discipline of Sorrow 44 VII Discipline through bereavement 52 VIII Discipline through Self-sacrifice 62 IX Discipline through Victory 70 * * * * * Appendix 81 THE DISCIPLINE OF WAR I =The Discipline of the Will= ASH WEDNESDAY Isaiah lviii. 6 "Is not this the fast that I have chosen?" Discipline is the central idea of the observance of Lent. An opportunity, rich in its splendid possibilities, comes before us this year. Much of the discipline of this Lent is settled for us by those tragic circumstances in which we find ourselves placed. God seems to be saying to us, in no uncertain tones, "Is not this the fast that I have chosen?" Our amusements are already to a large extent curtailed, maybe by our own individual sorrows or anxieties; maybe by the feeling of the incongruity of enjoying ourselves while anguish and hardship reign supreme around us. Our self-denials are already in operation, under the stress of straitened means, or the vital necessity of helping others less favoured than ourselves. Our devotions have already been increased in frequency and in earnestness, for the call upon our prayers has come with an insistence and an imperiousness that brook no denial. To this extent, and further in many directions, our Lent has been taken out of our own hands; ordered and pre-arranged by that inscrutable, yet loving, Providence which has permitted the War to come about. Thus, at the very outset, we are brought into harmony with the central idea of discipline--not my will, but God's will. Broadly, discipline is defined as "Mental and moral training, under one's own guidance or under that of another": the two necessarily overlap, and therefore we shall speak of God's discipline, acting upon us from outside, and of our own co-operation with divine purposes, which is our discipline of self from within. In the forefront of the subject, and including every aspect of it upon which we shall touch, stands that tremendous word--_will_. Have you ever attempted to gauge the mystery, to sound the depth of meaning implied in the simple sentence "I will"? First of all what is the significance of "I"? You are the only one who can say it of yourself. Any other must speak of you as "he" or "she"; but "I" is your own inalienable possession. This is the mystery of personality. That accumulation of experience, that consciousness of identity which you possess as absolutely, uniquely your own; which none other can share with you in the remotest degree. "A thing we consider to be unconscious, an animal to be conscious, a person to be self-conscious." This leads on to a further mystery, alike concerned with so apparently simple a matter that its real complexity escapes us. "I _will_": I, the self-conscious person, have made up my mind what I am going to do, and, physical obstacles excepted, I will do it. The freedom of man's will has been the subject of endless dispute from every point of view, theistic, atheistic, Christian and non-Christian. Merely as a philosophic controversy it has but little bearing upon daily life. The staunchest necessitarian, who argues _theoretically_ that even when he says "I will" he is under the compulsion of external force, yet acts _practically_ in exactly the same fashion as the rest of mankind. When the freedom of the will is considered in relation to religion, then it bears a totally different aspect. If the will be not free, religion, as a personal matter, falls to the ground, for its very essence is man's voluntary choice of God. Here too those who deny the freedom of man's will doctrinally yet accept it as a working fact. Calvin, whose theory of Predestination and Irresistible Grace seems to exclude man from any co-operation in his own salvation, yet preached a Gospel not to be distinguished from that of John Wesley! For us Christians the freedom of the will is absolutely settled by Him Who says, "Whosoever will let him come." If you are sometimes troubled by certain passages in Scripture which seem to imply that God's predestination overrides man's will, remember, that whenever we are considering any question which concerns both God's nature and man's nature, difficulty must arise, from the very fact that our finite mind can only comprehend, and that but imperfectly, man's side of the transaction. Things which now seem incompatible, such as prayer and law; miracle and, what we are pleased to call, nature; God's foreknowledge and man's free-will in the light of eternity will be seen as only complementary parts of one divine whole. Remember too that you must take the general bearing of Scripture; not isolated passages in which, for the necessity of the argument, one side is strongly emphasised. The Apostle who, thinking of the boundless power of God's grace, says, "So then it is not of him that willeth nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy" (Rom. ix. 16) is the one who says "He willeth that all men should be saved" (1 Tim. ii. 4). The love by which the Father gave up His Son; the life and death of that Son; the ministry of God the Holy Ghost; the whole dispensation of the Catholic Church, form one great tender appeal to the free-will of man. Your free-will, my free-will, before which is placed the tremendous responsibility of choosing or rejecting. And now from the broad thought of will, at its highest point, occupied with eternal choices and spiritual decisions, we turn to will as the governing power in our lives. It is, to a certain extent, self in action, for before even the slightest movement of any part of the body, there must have gone, automatically and unconsciously, an act of will. Before every deliberate action there takes place a discussion, which ultimately decides the attitude of the will, that is your final purpose. Put quite simply, the _motives_ determine the _will_, and are themselves decided by the _principles_ at the back of them. Let us make this plain by an illustration. It is pouring with rain, you are sitting cosily over the fire with an interesting book. The thought comes into your mind, I ought to go and see my sick friend. Then follows the deliberation: the flesh says, "To-morrow will do just as well." The spirit says, "No, it won't; you may both be dead to-morrow." The flesh says, "Perhaps I shall catch a cold"; the spirit says, "That fear wouldn't keep you from going to a Picture Palace." The flesh says, "Perhaps he won't care to see me to-day"; the spirit replies, "It's a dull, wet afternoon, and he's very likely to be alone." Now notice that at the back of each set of motives is a vital principle. In the one case the lower self, in the other the higher self, that is to say "I" and "God." The purely natural, human side of even the greatest saint would prefer to sit over the fire; but then our nature is not left unassisted, and even in a simple thing like this God the Holy Ghost comes to our aid with His suggestions of the higher course, and illuminates the path of duty. That is one of the most blessed features of the ministry of the Spirit; He enlightens, He persuades, He never compels: if He did, your will would not be free. This explains what the discipline of the will really means. It is just the laying of ourselves open to the voice of the living God, speaking within us. As we do this, day by day, the will itself becomes braced and strengthened, so that the struggle against the lower nature grow less and less fierce, the power of choosing the higher course more and more easy. Here is our first practical thought for this Lent. Watch yourself and your life, especially in those particulars in which you know that you have been getting out of hand. The prayers omitted, curtailed, said carelessly, said or attempted in bed, instead of on your knees: what a grievous failure, isn't it? The carelessness about preparation before and thanksgiving after Communion, the irregularity of your attendances; the habit of Self-Examination, or of Confession, dropped--why? The Bible neglected. Then the self-indulgences in the matter of sleep, food, drink, and purely wasted hours. All these things are sapping the manhood and dignity of the will. Sometimes even more dangerously and insidiously than open sins, because with regard to these conscience does speak; but when we are merely drifting down the stream of time, the pleasant lapping of the ripples on the side of the bark lulls conscience into fatal sleep. Look at your life, ask yourself the question, boldly and honestly, what is the principle upon which it is being lived, God or self? When the answer comes you will see clearly the first steps to take in the disciplining of the will. Glorious examples of what can be done abound around you. Think you there has been no struggle on the part of those tens of thousands who have given up comforts, home, prospects, harmless pleasures, in exchange for the ghastly miseries of the trenches, the appalling risks by land, on or beneath the sea, in the air, all at the call of a stern, compelling duty, which told them that the life really worth living was the one spent, laid down if need be, for King and country? Think too of the heroism of the wives, the mothers, the sweethearts, on whose lips there must have trembled over and again, "I will not, I cannot let you go." Yet the will was disciplined, the words remained unspoken, the tears were shed in secret, and these brave hearts, even in breaking, shall find their reward. It was at Waterloo one afternoon, a young officer was being seen off for the front by father, brother, and _fiancée_. The two former bravely and cheerily said their good-bye, and withdrew a little to leave the young couple for their farewell; a kiss, a close embrace, outward smiles, but tears very near the eyes; and then as the officer got into the carriage just this one remark: "It's precious hard upon the women." What a world of meaning there was in that. Above all, as your pattern and your power, look to Him Who said, "I came down from Heaven not to do mine own will but the will of Him that sent Me." _For suggested meditations during the week, see Appendix._ II =The Discipline of the Body= FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT 1 Cor. ix. 27 "I buffet my body, and bring it into bondage." On Ash Wednesday we were considering some purely subjective realities, such as principles, motives, will--things we could not see. To-day we think about a very objective substance, ever present to our senses--our body. A man may deny point blank the existence of his soul--using the word in its ordinary acceptation--he cannot say, "I have not got a body." Even if he should conceive of that body as a mere bundle of ideas, an accumulation of sensations, yet there it is, making itself felt in countless ways. So intimately bound up is it with every part of our life, apparently so infinitely the most real part of us, that we often think of it as being our true self. Yet every cell and fibre of it changes in the course of seven years. Therefore in itself it cannot maintain our identity. Have you ever pinched your nail, right down at its base, and watched the dark mass of congealed blood making its way to the tip of the finger, and then dispersing? This gives you some idea of the pace at which the body is being burned up and renewed. All the while the personal "I" remains, deep-seated in the self-conscious intellect, memory, will. Of course the body plays an immensely important part in the complex story of our existence. It is the machine by which the personal self acts, speaks, loves, hates, chooses, refuses; therefore we can neither ignore it nor despise it. The popular notion concerning religion is that it is meant only for the salvation of the soul. If this were so, then the coming of the Holy Ghost would have sufficed for all needs. One manifest purpose of the Incarnation was to give to the body the possibility of holiness here, resurrection hereafter. Very marvellous is the dignity conferred upon the body by the fact the "Word was made flesh." From that flows forth the high position of the Christian, whose body is a "temple of the Holy Ghost." It is through the body that we receive the Sacraments, which are means of grace to the soul. Did time permit, it would be deeply interesting to trace out the use of the word body in this connection--the natural body of our Lord, His spiritual body after the Resurrection, His mystical body, the Church, in which sense He Himself is called "the Saviour of the body" (Eph. v. 23), His Sacramental Body, of which He says, "This is my body." The discipline of the body. The thought is prominently before us at the present moment, and first let us look at it from its purely material side. Thousands of youths who a few months ago were slouching, narrow-chested, feeble specimens of underbred humanity, have now-expanded into well set up, hardened men. The body has been disciplined by drill, exercises, route-marching, and the like. Those who return from the war uninjured will, we may hope, be in such improved condition as may somewhat compensate for the terrible loss of vigorous life which is taking place. Had there been universal military training of the youth of our land for the past few generations, either the present war would never have taken place; or the results of the first three weeks of it would have been vastly different from what they were. Now take another significant fact: letter after letter from the front says, "We are all very fit." The average "fitness" in the trenches is, broadly speaking, higher than that of training camps at home, especially of those where little or no supervision is exercised as to strong drink. How plainly this shows that hardness, even of an extreme character, braces up the body; softness and self-indulgence enfeeble it. S. Paul affords a wonderful illustration of this; obviously a man of very delicate health, frequently ill (probably this was the thorn in the flesh), yet accomplishing vast labours, and, in addition, buffeting his own flesh lest it should get the upper hand. Here, then, we reach the first great principle in the discipline of the body. It must not have its own way, or it will infallibly assert its sway over the man's real self. That is what happens in the case of the habitual drunkard or the slave of lust. That which at first is a temptation, perfectly capable of being resisted, becomes at last what the doctors call a "physical" craving that, humanly speaking, cannot be overcome. By constant yielding the will has been weakened to such an extent that the personal "I" no longer reigns; the usurping body has taken its place and rules supreme. Let us take the main thought of self-control, which is the true rendering of the word temperance, the state in which, as S. James says, the man is "able to bridle the whole body" (S. James iii. 2), and test ourselves by it this Lent. Am I retaining my dominion over my body, or is it gradually pushing itself into my place? Self-examination, honestly performed, will reveal this at once, for conscience, unless blunted by neglect, will speak infallibly. For instance, when you find some indulgence of the flesh concerning which you say "I can't help it," there your body has vanquished you. It is absorbing your personality, robbing you of your divine birthright, in which you say, "I will," "I will not." And now to go a step further--the disciplining of the body, care in regard to eating, drinking, amusements, and the like; strictness as to luxuries and things which, though lawful, may not be expedient, not only tend to bodily strength and mere physical well-being, but brace up the will power, because they entail the constant exercise of it. Here is where the practical wisdom of the Church comes in as regards fasting. One day in every week is set apart, beside other days and seasons, as a reminder of the fact that fasting is a duty of the Christian life, just as much as almsgiving and prayer--a duty sanctified by the example enjoined by the precept of our Lord Himself. True, no hard and fast rules are laid down, but a little sanctified common sense will dictate to us how to make fast-days a reality, by some simple acts of self-denial. Our last thought is one of intense practical importance--our attitude at the present moment towards strong drink. Lord Kitchener and the Archbishop of Canterbury have both on several occasions called the attention of the nation to the terrible evils arising from the unhappy custom of treating soldiers to strong drink. _Punch_, always on the side of morality and rightness, has dealt with it in the following trenchant fashion:-- TO A FALSE PATRIOT He came obedient to the Call; He might have shirked, like half his mates Who, while their comrades fight and fall, Still go to swell the football gates. And you, a patriot in your prime, You waved a flag above his head, And hoped he'd have a high old time, And slapped him on the back, and said: "You'll show 'em what we British are! Give us your hand, old pal, to shake"; And took him round from bar to bar And made him drunk--for England's sake. That's how you helped him. Yesterday Clear-eyed and earnest, keen and hard, He held himself the soldier's way-- And now they've got him under guard. That doesn't hurt you; you're all right; Your easy conscience takes no blame; But he, poor boy, with morning's light, He eats his heart out, sick with shame. What's that to you? You understand Nothing of all his bitter pain; You have no regiment to brand; You have no uniform to stain; No vow of service to abuse; No pledge to King and country due; But he has something dear to lose, And he has lost it--thanks to you.[1] [Footnote 1: O.S. in _Punch_, November 4th, 1914. By kind permission of the Proprietors.] A man who had so distinguished himself at the front as to be mentioned in a despatch came home slightly wounded. In less than twenty-four hours he was in a cell at a police station, and the next day fined forty shillings. Oh! the pathetic pity of it. That man got into trouble through the exhibition of one of the purest and best features of our human nature, the desire to show kindness. In their well-intentioned ignorance this man's friends--yes, they were real friends--knew of only one way of displaying friendliness--they gave him liquor. I am not going to blame them, nor him entirely; I am going to lay some of the fault upon ourselves. Since the beginning of the last century the habits of the upper classes, to use a generic though unpleasant term, have improved immeasurably. Then excess was more or less the rule among men of good position, was to a certain extent expected and provided for; witness _The School for Scandal_, or the leading novels of the period. Now, the man who disgraces himself at a dinner-table is never invited again. And even as we go down in the social scale much improvement is apparent. Those who remember Bank Holidays on their first introduction will recollect that the excess of the working classes was quite open and shameless; but to-day some effort is generally made by the victims, or their friends, to hide the disgrace, because Public Opinion is improving. That is where we come in. Many causes of intemperance in strong drink are matters for legislative or municipal action; for example, overcrowding, insanitary dwellings or surroundings, sweating, excessive hours of labour, adulteration of liquors. But there are two factors upon which we can exercise direct influence, because they are connected with that great corporate entity called Public Opinion. First let us take the one upon which we have already touched--the notion that friendliness and good fellowship are essentially connected with strong drink. This is at the bottom of those terrible scenes when troops are leaving our great London railway stations. Scenes so inexpressibly sad to all thinking people. Everyone who abstains entirely, or who takes the khaki button--a pledge not to treat nor be treated to strong drink during the continuance of the war--is helping to knock a nail into the coffin of one of the silliest and most fatal delusions that has ever wrought havoc to body, soul, and spirit. And then there is that other weird notion that you cannot be really strong and healthy without stimulant. For you the glass of beer or wine may be a mere harmless luxury, in the way in which you take it. I purposely exclude spirits, which I am fanatic enough to think should only be used medicinally. But every individual total abstainer helps to swell the testimony not only to the non-necessity of alcohol, but to the fact that, according to the view of a large part of the medical profession, the human frame is better without it. You may say, "What good will my abstinence do to people with whom I never come in contact?" Tell me what influence really is; how it spreads, by what unseen modes it ramifies and extends. Tell me the real significance, the true spiritual value, of the fact that "if one member suffer, all the members suffer with it: if one member rejoice, all the members rejoice with it." Then perhaps you can explain in some way, how your abstinence shall spread to desolated homes, to stricken lives, in crowded slums or quiet villages, in fire-raked trenches or storm-tossed ships. No act of self-sacrifice for His sake, Who though He was rich yet for our sakes became poor, ever went without its rich reward. No tiny wave of influence ever yet sped forth from a Christian heart, but what reached its mark and wrought its work of beneficent power. _For suggested meditations during the week, see Appendix._ III =The Discipline of the Soul= SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT St. John vi. 38 "For I am come down from Heaven, not to do Mine own will, but the will of Him that sent Me." To-day we are going to speak of the soul not in its popular sense, as set over against the body, but in the scriptural meaning of the word as the broad equivalent of life. To enter upon a philosophical discussion might prove interesting from a merely academic point of view, but would be eminently unpractical. Suffice it to say that when S. Paul speaks of the "body, soul and spirit" (1 Thess. v. 23), he takes the two latter as different faculties of the invisible part of man. Soul ([Greek: psychê]) is the lower attribute which man has in common with the animals; spirit ([Greek: pneuma]) the higher one which they do not possess, and which makes man capable of religion. In this sense, then, the soul would mean the life the man or woman is leading, in the home, the business, the pleasures, the relaxations, as distinct from the definite exercise of devotion or worship. Of course it is absolutely impossible to draw a hard and fast line between sacred and secular. All secular affairs, rightly conducted, have their sacred side; and conversely all sacred matters have their secular side, for they form part of the life the man is living "in the age." It is the neglect of this truth which is responsible for much of the moral and religious failure of the day. Business is secular, prayer is sacred, and so they have no practical connection each with other. Amusement is secular (often vastly too much so, in the very lowest sense of the word); Holy Communion is sacred; therefore there is no link between them. Whereas the prayer and the Communion should be the ennobling and sanctifying power alike of work and play. Bearing this caution in mind, we shall to-day look at certain features of the so-called secular life of the day in which discipline needs to be strongly exercised. No doubt about it, the soul of the nation has been growing sick, sick "nigh unto death." Luxury has been increasing with giant strides; the mad race for pleasure has helped to empty our Churches, to rob our Charities, to diminish the number of our Candidates for Holy Orders, to make countless ears deaf to the call which the country, through that magnificent Christian soldier, Lord Roberts, and many others, has been making to manhood of the land. Week-ending, meals in restaurants, turning night into day, have robbed home-life of its grace and power, and produced a generation of young folk _blasé_ and discontented before they are out of girlhood and boyhood. With this has come, inevitably, the loss of sense of responsibility. So long as I can enjoy myself and get my own way, why should I vex myself with the outworn question, "Am I my brother's keeper?" No! That has gone into the limbo of effete superstition. And further, loss of the sense of proportion. There are some to whom it causes no moral shock to wear a dress costing a hundred guineas, while a vast number of seamstresses, shirtmakers, artificial flower makers, boot-closers, and the like, are working seventy hours for 5s. to 8s. a week. One mantle-presser, in Dalston, receives 1/2_d._ per mantle; she is most respectable, has four children, and earns from 5_s._ 6_d._ to 7_s._ a week! We do not grumble at the hundred guineas being spent upon the dress, or a thousand guineas even, if the money went in due proportion all round to supply the _full living wage to each one engaged in its production_: and if the wearer interested herself keenly in social problems, and used her means wisely and well to afford relief where it was needed. This, alas! does not happen when the sense of proportion is lacking. Take another case--alas! a fearfully common one. Men and women will gamble recklessly at Bridge, lose heavily, pay up, at whatever cost, because it is _a debt of honour_. All the while a hard-pressed tailor, a famished dressmaker and her children are kept out of their money, because it is only _a debt of commerce_. Could there be a more ghastly parody on the word honour? Yet once more--the lack of seriousness. By seriousness we do not mean gloominess, nor withdrawal from society, or anything of the kind. We mean the flippant attitude towards life, the lack of serious, sustained interest in literature, in music, in art, in the legitimate drama; witness the theatres being turned into cinema shows, and the terrible paucity of sound, strong plays. Everything must be scrappy, light, and if a little (or more than a little) risky, so much the better. We do not for a moment say that these evils are universal, God forbid, but none can deny that they have eaten deep into a large part of society, using the word in its broadest, not in its technical sense. The soul of the nation needed discipline, and it has come suddenly, sharply, but, who shall dare to say, not mercifully? And even in its very coming it brought a tremendous opportunity, for we were not compelled to make war, notice that! We had an option. The temptation was subtle. You have no concern with Servia, throw over Belgium, let France take care of itself. For a time, probably a very short time, we should have avoided war and its horrors. The bait was held out by some peddling politicians that we should have stood in a magnificent position to obtain trade, to control markets, to dictate prices to the rest of the world. Magnificent prospect! We went to war, and, by a strange paradox, secured peace with honour: peace of the national conscience. Had we forsaken Belgium we could never again have held up our heads among civilised honourable nations. Thus the very circumstances under which the War came about formed an appeal to the soul of the nation as embodied in its legislature; the Government rang true, and the nation, as one man, endorsed its decision. And now the discipline has commenced. Who can be flippant and careless with our coast towns liable to bombardment, and over a hundred lives already sacrificed in this little island, which we have always deemed to be the one absolutely secure spot in the whole world? Five months ago an earthquake in London would have seemed a far more likely event than the bombardment of Hartlepool, Scarborough, Whitby, and the dropping of shells on Yarmouth foreshore, or of bombs at Dover and Southend. Who can be unconcerned when our ships are liable at any moment, and apparently in almost any place, to be sent headlong to the bottom of the sea by torpedoes or mines; possibly sometimes by those very mines we have been compelled to lay, and which happen to have broken loose? This is one of the unavoidable hazards of war under modern conditions. It does not make us ignore the magnificent work of our Fleet, nor tremble for the ultimate issue. Who can be giddy and careless with darkened streets, trains, trams, all telling of the awful possibilities of the new development of aerial warfare? Who, even among those not directly touched by anxiety or bereavement, can go on just as usual in luxury, self-indulgence, and ease amid the crushing mass of suffering around them on all sides? Thank God that, though we may have erred very grievously through softness of living, we are not a callous people, but we needed a strong, stern discipline of the national soul; some stirring and trumpet-tongued appeal to the national life, and in the righteous mercy of God it has come. Some of the immediate effects are obvious; but what are the lasting results to be? The _Guardian_, of a few weeks back, thus soundly comments upon the matter:-- "It is true that the outbreak of war put a sudden end to much that was thoughtless, stupid, and even base in contemporary life. 'Tango teas' and afternoon Bridge among women have receded almost as far into ancient history as dinners at Ranelagh or suppers at Cremorne. But human nature is easily frightened into propriety by a crisis; it is not so easy to maintain the new way of life when the fright is safely over. The things that are amiss in our national life, and above all that lack of seriousness which so many observers have lamented during the last few years, can be amended only by a clear conviction of the inherent unsoundness of our outlook, and a firm determination to rebuild it upon new and more stable foundations." The soul of the nation needs discipline, and that can only come through the effort of the individual to discipline his own life. There is a ceaseless temptation to echo the cry of the disciples in regard to the few loaves and fishes: "What are they among so many?" Of what value or power is my feeble little life among the teeming millions that go to make up the nation? Put away the thought, for it is a direct temptation of the Devil. It was just when, in the very depths of his human despair, Elijah cried out, "I, I only am left," that God revealed to him the seven thousand men who had not bowed the knee to Baal. It was because Athanasius was content to stand _contra mundum_, against the world, that the Catholic faith was preserved to the Church. Let us very seriously examine ourselves as to the use we are making of our life with regard to other people. We have considered that life, in various details, in respect to ourselves, and only incidentally as it affects others, but now let us put away all thought of self. Take the one absolute standard of life as set in the text, "I came down from Heaven, not to do mine own will, but the will of Him that sent me." The result was a life entirely devoted, from the first moment to the last, to one stupendous cause: the lifting up of humanity to the very throne of God. You and I cannot reach even a fraction of the way towards that perfect standard; but it is our pattern, our plummet, our measuring-line. Very practically, then, we must ask ourselves such questions as these: What proportion of my time is spent for others? Have I any method of employing time or any stated hours that I give to philanthropic or religious work; or do I just, in a casual way, let other people have odd moments, when I happen to think of it? Similar questions should be asked as to money. Many people, especially those who do not keep accounts (which everyone ought to do), would be shocked if at the end of a year they could see the enormous disproportion between the vast amount they have frittered away on self, and the pitiful little doles they have handed out in the cause of charity. One man, who kept three cars for private use, reduced an already paltry allowance made to a dependent because the price of petrol had gone up! It is not that people cannot give; it is often only that they do not think. Look at the vast sums being poured into the Relief Funds. Why has not some proportion of it gone long ago to Hospitals obliged to close their wards, Waifs and Strays Societies compelled to refuse poor little outcasts? The money was there; it could have been spared then as well as now, but it needed some great shock to wake its owners up to the sense of proportion, the realisation of responsibilities. And so in regard to such gifts as music, painting, acting, mechanics, stitchery; even such simple things as reading and writing. Have you ever read a book to, or written a letter for, anyone else? We might multiply these questions indefinitely, but enough has been said to enable us seriously to take in hand the disciplining of the soul, remembering that this life of ours is a precious loan entrusted to us by God the Father, redeemed for us by God the Son, sanctified in us by God the Holy Ghost, to be used by us, in due proportion, for our neighbours and ourselves. _For suggested meditations during the week, see Appendix_. IV =The Discipline of the Spirit= THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT St. Luke vi. 12. "He continued all night in Prayer to God." Last week we looked at the soul as that faculty of life which, to a certain extent, we share with animals; to-day we pass on to consider, under the title of spirit, the higher endowment by which man is enabled to look up and, in the fullest exercise of his whole being, to say "my God." A man without religion is undeveloped in regard to the highest part of his complex nature. In attaining to self-consciousness, and the special powers it brings, he has gone one step further than the animal, but has utterly failed of his true purpose. The supreme object of the self-consciousness, which reveals to him his personality, is that it should disclose its own origin in the personality of God. One very striking effect of the War has been to produce a vast amount of testimony to the fact that man is, broadly speaking, religious by nature. The services in the places of worship all over the land have been multiplied, intercession is becoming a felt reality, congregations have grown. It is asserted, by those who have the best means of knowing, that by far the majority of the letters from the front contain references to religion, such as acknowledgments of God's providence, prayer for His help, or requests for the prayers of others. Sometimes, in the strange double-sidedness of human nature, accompanied by expletives obviously profane. Mention is often made of the bowed heads, and the prayer, in which both sides join, at the time of a joint burial during a temporary truce. All these things show that the deeps of the fountains of natural religion have been broken up in wondrous fashion. Our question to-day is: How shall we discipline that spirit which enables us to realise religion as a fact? Let us try to get to the root of the matter. There are two chief derivations of the word religion. One comes from the verb which means "to go through, or over again, in reading, speech, or thought." Hence religion is the regular or constant habit of revering the gods, and would be represented by the word devotion--an aspect most important to bear in mind. The other derivation, and the more usual, derives religion from the idea of binding together, and tells of communion between man and God. For us Christians this thought finds its highest ideal and fulfilment in the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ. The great characteristic action of religion is prayer; varying in its methods and degrees from merely mechanical performances, like the praying wheels of the Chinese up to the heart devotion of the Christian, poured out when commemorating, in the Holy Communion, the death and resurrection of His Lord. The first essential of any prayer which is to be of value in the discipline of the spirit is regularity. No words can exaggerate the importance of morning prayer. Yet, alas! tens of thousands of professing Christians are content with evening prayer alone. The one who goes forth in the morning prayerless is just as ill-equipped to do his duty, and meet his temptations, as the foodless man is to perform physical work. The whole story of the saintly life, alike in the Old Testament, the New Testament, and the Church, is that of diligence in prayer. It was to promote that spirit that the Church of Christ, following on the lines of the Jewish Church, from very early days adopted special hours for stated devotions, with the daily offering of the Holy Eucharist linking the whole system together. The lowest standard to aim at is private prayer morning and evening, midday too if possible, and regular attendances at God's House on Sundays and Feast Days. The guiding principle, to be kept ever in mind, is not what my own inclinations suggest, but what the glory of God demands. Were this always the case, what magnificent congregations there would be. Prayer represents a real business of the spirit into which we put the whole endowment of our being, intellect, memory, emotion, will. Oh! those wandering thoughts, how they do distress us; and just in proportion as we wish to pray and are learning to pray, so we feel our deficiencies the more keenly. A few moments before we commence our prayers spent in saying very quietly, "Thou God seest me," or "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost," coupled with a simple yet earnest act of the realisation of God's presence, will be of infinite use. The railway train coming into a station does not draw up with a jerk, but gradually slows down. So with us; we cannot come out of our rushing lives all in a moment into the quiet of God's presence; we need to slow down. But much of the wandering in prayer is the direct result of the habit of wandering in life. Flitting from one subject, one book, one occupation to another; scrappy reading, talking, thinking; then, as a natural consequence, scrappy praying. A great master of the spiritual life used to say, "You will get far more help in your prayers by leading a more useful life, than by making tremendous efforts after concentration when you are actually at prayer." The one who tries to keep alive the habitual sense of God's presence makes his whole life a prayer, of which the stated devotions only form a natural part. It is comparatively easy for such a one to concentrate his thought and to keep his attention fixed when engaged in his prayers. Just a word or two about books of devotion. They serve a most useful purpose, especially in preparation and thanksgiving for Confession or Communion, but should never be allowed to take the entire place of the Christian's glorious privilege of pleading the "Abba Father," and speaking to God in his own words, day by day. Be careful not to use prayers which are manifestly beyond your own standpoint or out of harmony with your own feeling. The mere repetition of phrases that do not represent your inner attitude towards truth only tends to formality; the effort to force a kind of artificial conformity, because you think you ought to feel this or that, invariably ends in unreality. Given these cautions, devotional books may be of great use, even for regular daily prayer, and often help to call back the thoughts which are flying off at a tangent. To speak of discipline without touching upon Confession would be to omit one of its most essential features. Nightly self-examination must be performed, and that not perfunctorily, but with real intention of repentance and strictness of living. Self-examination is nothing more nor less than spiritual account-keeping; without it the man has no real idea of how the business of his soul stands. When it reveals the fact that sin is making headway and the spirit losing ground, then the wise teaching of the Prayer Book should be followed; "the grief"--for such it ought to be--opened in Confession to God, before one of God's ministers, and the benefit of absolution secured. Much of the terrible prejudice felt against this practice arises from the mistaken idea that the priest professes to forgive us our sins. The words of the Absolution in the Visitation of the Sick, in our own Prayer Book, put the matter on its true footing:--"Our Lord Jesus Christ, Who hath left power to His Church to absolve, ... _forgive_ thee ... and by His authority ... I _absolve_ thee." The source of all pardon and the right to exercise it rest in God alone, but the message declaring the fact is part of the "ministry of reconciliation," committed, in the infinite condescension of God, to the "earthen vessels." An illustration may be taken from the pardon of a criminal condemned to death; the Home Secretary recommends it, but the King, on his sole authority, grants it, and then the message, the _absolvo te_, which lets the man go free, is delivered by the governor of the gaol. Penitents, especially after a first confession at some crisis in mature life, often bear witness to the fact that it seemed to bring them straight into the presence of Jesus Christ; to make them feel the reality of His pardoning blood in a way they never could have believed possible. How strange that the very thing which by so many pious and thoroughly honest souls is dreaded because it is supposed to bring a man in between God and the soul, should yet so often be used by the Holy Spirit to give a wondrous and precious vision of Christ the Saviour. Thus far we have spoken only of that kind of occasional Confession which is obviously contemplated by the Prayer Book; we have no time to dwell on its habitual use. Suffice it to quote some words from the first English Prayer Book:-- "Requiring such as shall be satisfied with a general confession, not to be offended with them that do use, to their further satisfying, the auricular and secret confession to the priest; nor those which think needful or convenient to open their sins to the priest to be offended with them that are satisfied with their humble confession to God, and the general confession to the Church." That staunch Evangelical Churchman, Bishop Thorold, who was strongly opposed to habitual Confession in our Communion, once said, "We cannot ignore the fact that the giants of old owed much of that saintliness, which we of the present day can only wonder at but cannot reproduce, to the practice of Confession." If you should be in doubt about it for yourself, consult some spiritually-minded person who possesses experience in the matter. Not, on the one hand, the man who will tell you that it is the greatest curse the Church has ever known; nor, on the other, the one who would have it practised by everybody. Surely for us sober Church folk there must be a loyal middle course, which leaves absolute freedom, so long as the individual "follows and keeps the rule of charity, and is satisfied with his own conscience." Last, but most important of all, in the discipline of the spirit comes the Holy Communion, about which we shall speak next week. As our closing thought, let us go back to what we said just now. The object of religion is God's glory, not man's enjoyment. See how this puts feelings down into their right, and subordinate, place. They are sometimes very delightful, sometimes very depressing, but always liable to be misleading. A great saint of old used to say:--"If God never gave me another moment of sensible devotion in prayer, I would go on praying, because His glory demands it." Religion has to do with facts: the facts of what God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost have done, and are doing, for us; the facts of what we have to do, to make the finished work of Christ our own. Here, as always, our Lord Himself gives us the highest illustration. Neither as God, nor yet as perfect Man, was there an actual need for Him to pray; yet His whole life was punctuated with prayer: first because the glory of the Father required it, and next because His chosen Apostles must be taught by example as well as precept. Let the same mind dwell in us. It is for the glory of God that I should have salvation; therefore by the help of God I will discipline my spirit. _For suggested Meditations during the week see Appendix._ V =Discipline through Obedience= FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT St. Luke xxii. 19 "This do in remembrance of Me." Our subject of to-day flows quite naturally out of what we said last week. Religion rests on facts, and its object is God's glory, not merely our profit. Our duty, therefore, is an absolute submission to those facts--in other words, implicit obedience. This is being illustrated on all sides in regard to the War. The facts are indisputable. Lord Selborne put the matter in a nutshell when he said: "The task in front of us is colossal. We are fighting for nothing less than our lives, in circumstances which make it the duty of every Englishman to put everything in the world he possesses, everything that he values, into the scale to ensure success, and I am sure there is not one of us, whatever his position, who would flinch in the slightest from the duty he owes to his country and to his deepest self." The response to the facts has been obedience, immediate and unquestioning, on the part of a vast number. True, not all have yet been reached who ought to come forward, and some are even now crying out for that compulsory service which may yet prove inevitable. They forget that the obedience of one free man is worth more than the forced submission of many. Let us wait hopefully, energetically; losing no opportunity of pressing the stern logic of facts wherever we may. And those who have joined the services have come at once under a discipline totally different from that of the sternest school or the strictest house of business. The surrender has been made voluntarily, and it has placed the whole life in each detail under the claim of an absolute obedience. The disposal of every moment of time belongs to the authorities. The private in high social position must obey the orders of a young lance-corporal just as exactly as he expected his own commands to be carried out in his business or his household. Who can estimate the immense development of moral fibre that surely must take place in succeeding generations from the fact that so vast a number, in all ranks of society, are now under obedience? Not because they were driven to it, but because they embraced it by an initial act of obedience. --Thus they answered,--hoping, fearing, Some in faith, and doubting some, Till a trumpet-voice proclaiming, Said, "My chosen people, come!" Then the drum, Lo! was dumb, For the great heart of the nation throbbing, Answered, "Lord we come."[2] [Footnote 2: _The Reveille_, Bret Harte.] Let us apply this thought to the command in our text, "Do this in remembrance of Me." The facts are undisputed. Our Lord Jesus Christ, in the tenderness of His compassion, instituted an ordinance by which we might remember Him and feed upon Him. Further than this we cannot go on the ground of universal consent. Strangely enough, that rite which is the same in its central act, whether celebrated by the nonconformist in his ordinary dress, or the priest clad in costly vestments, whether in the humble room or the stately cathedral, which is, on the one hand, the well-nigh universal mark of all who profess and call themselves Christians, is yet the battle-ground of fierce dispute and bitter disagreement. The present crisis is undoubtedly deepening in our minds the exceeding value of this blessed gift of Christ to His Church. It is deeply suggestive of the spirit of our young officers that a group of old public-school boys, just about to leave for the front, should have begged their late schoolmaster--now a Bishop--to give them a Celebration of Holy Communion in his own private Chapel on their last Sunday in England. What a beautiful send-off! Then, turning to the scene of operations itself, we find a touching witness in the simple record sent by Admiral Sir John Jellicoe to his brother at Southampton. "We spent our Christmas Day waiting for the Germans, who did not appear. But we managed to find time for church and for three celebrations of Holy Communion, although the whole time we were cleared for action and the men were at their guns." Who can contemplate unmoved that spectacle of the men, not gathered in the peaceful security of the House of God, but out upon the ocean, expecting attack, realising the possible nearness of the end, leaving their guns but for the moment, then back again, strengthened for life or death by the sacred Body and Blood. Or take the witness of Rev. E.R. Day, one of our Senior Army Chaplains serving with the Expeditionary Force. While home on a few days' leave he preached at Lichfield Cathedral, and, touching upon the efficacy of prayer, testified how enormously it was valued by our soldiers now serving at the front. The Holy Communion was especially appreciated. On Christmas Day there were no fewer than seven hundred communicants from one regiment and four hundred from another, and the service was held in a ploughed field with a packing-case for an altar. He had conducted these services sometimes in the back-parlour of a public-house, in a stable, in a loft, in a lean-to shed, and in the open; anywhere, in fact, where room could be found. Out on the battlefield there was hardly any need for a compulsory parade service; the men had only to hear that a service was to be held and they would crowd to it. Most of the reasons given by those who stop away from Communion centre in self. "I am not worthy." Of course not, nor is the priest who celebrates, nor is any member of the congregation. We sadly misread that caution of S. Paul about receiving "unworthily." Let us take a homely illustration. Our good Queen Victoria was very fond of visiting cottagers in the Highlands and reading the Scriptures to them. You can imagine how one of them might say, "I am not worthy of such an honour; this little place is so poor and mean." Quite true, yet she could tidy up the home, mend her frock, make everything neat and clean, so as to receive the Queen "worthily." Until you realise the fact-- "I am not worthy, gracious Lord," you will never receive Him worthily. No one who examines himself, confesses his sins, and firmly purposes to amend, ever yet came to Communion unworthily. "I don't feel inclined to come." Because you have not realised in its full meaning two facts: yourself as a great sinner, Christ as a great Saviour. Feelings have nothing to do with duty. If they had, our army would be about half the size it is. Do you suppose that all those who are joining the Services like leaving home, wife, friends, comforts? Feelings have been sacrificed to facts. "I'm too great a sinner." Then you are not fit to die. Repent, turn to the Saviour, and then in His holy ordinance you will find the very strength you need to keep you from falling back. "I have such terrible temptations." So we all have, priest and people alike. Temptations are not sins; they are the enemies on the battlefield, and if you never meet them, you--the Christian soldier enlisted at your Baptism--will never have the chance of winning a victory. The one who stays away from Communion because of temptations or sins, which he is really trying to resist, is like the sick man who looks at the bottle of medicine and says, "I will take it when I get well." "So many communicants are hypocrites." That shows that you know enough about the Christian life to be able to judge your fellow creatures. Are you making things any better by neglecting your duty? "I have got an enemy." Have you honestly tried to be reconciled; are you willing to forgive and bury the past? "Yes, but he is not." All the more need then for you to come to the Communion and pray for his heart to be changed. It was said of one great saint that some people might never have had the blessing of his prayers for them but that they were his enemies. All these excuses centre in self. They could not do otherwise, for no one has ever yet found in Christ any reason why they should stay away from Him. Obedience forms so large a part of discipline--nay, is almost identical with discipline--because it takes us out of self. Our Lord Who has bidden us "do this" knows exactly what is best for us. In putting aside feelings, fancies, unworthy scruples, and casting ourselves unreservedly upon His boundless mercy, we shall taste of the treasures of His grace and be satisfied. One important part of the discipline of this obedience is making a special and very careful preparation before, and thanksgiving after, each Communion. Preparation which consists first of all of real self-examination and repentance, using fearlessly the "ministry of reconciliation" when necessary, and then of special prayers which help to put us into the attitude of hopeful, grateful anticipation. Thanksgiving; definite prayers and praises, continued for a day or two, unless we are very frequent communicants, so that we may lose none of the preciousness of the blessing by our own forgetfulness or ingratitude. In this, as we said last week, books can _help_, but that is all; they cannot make the preparation or the thanksgiving for us. Early Communion, quite apart from the doctrinal question of fasting reception, is a useful feature of the discipline of obedience. It is a custom which comes from primitive times, and is universal in the greater part of the Catholic Church. To give the early hours of the day to our Blessed Lord is surely more in accordance with what His great love requires than to choose our own time and come when it suits us best: that is when it requires less effort and self-denial, and when our minds have been distracted by the cares of the advancing day. The coming on of old age or sickness may necessarily debar us from the privilege and joy of early Communion, but, while we can, let us make the most of the blessed morning hours, when in all the freshness of our newly awakened life we draw near to Him Who ceaselessly watches over us. The question is often asked: "How often ought I to receive the Holy Communion?" The answer depends upon so large a number of considerations that no general rules can possibly be given. Spiritual capacities vary infinitely. One broad principle we can lay down: Do not receive so often that you begin to neglect preparation and thanksgiving. Better by far six Communions a year, which have meant real, living intercourse between yourself and your Saviour, than a weekly one which has degenerated into a perfunctory form. It is to be remembered that there is nothing to prevent your attending the service whenever you wish, joining in the praises and prayers, even though for some good reason you are not going to receive. But, whatever your custom may be, have a rule about your times of receiving, and keep to it strictly. Aim at regularity for your own sake. One of the greatest causes of many of the obscure modern complaints is the irregularity of meals, consequent upon the exacting conditions of life. Precisely so, much sickness of spirit springs from the careless way in which the chief spiritual food is treated. People go to the Holy Communion when they feel inclined, instead of according to a fixed rule, modifying the rule, just as they would in the case of their meals, by circumstances which may arise; spiritual sickness might dictate abstention from Communion for a while, just as bodily disease might require a period of fasting. Be regular for others' sake. The consistent example of the communicant who lets neither weather nor inclination interfere with duty exercises an influence far wider than he could imagine possible. Be regular for Christ's sake, in grateful recognition of that tender love which has given us the highest privilege of the Christian life. Surely never is our Lord more satisfied in seeing of the travail of His soul than when His faithful ones are gathered before His Holy Table, worshipping Him in the tremendous reality of His spiritual presence, feeding upon Him in the mystery of His Body and His Blood. Thus out of our obedience to the great "Do this" comes discipline of the highest kind. That discipline which is ever putting self in the background, ever exalting the person and the work of Christ. Then follows the reward, never attained by those who in self-interest seek it, only poured forth upon such as are content to lose their life in finding it, "He that eateth Me, even he shall live by Me." _For suggested Meditations during the week see Appendix._ VI =The Discipline of Sorrow= FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT Revelations vii. 14 "These are they who came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." Two considerations only can throw any light on the dark mystery of suffering, the problem which has baffled the intellect, the perplexity which has torn the heart of mankind from the dawn of conscious life--"I believe that Jesus Christ was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary, and was made man"; "I believe in the life of the world to come." The two thoughts blend in our text with a harmony of illumination which, though it does not solve the problem, renders it less dark. Only in the light of another world, where the seed sown here shall bear wondrous fruit, can we even begin to reconcile the existence of suffering with the goodness of Almighty God. If there be no hereafter, then indeed suffering must be the work of a vengeful tyrant rejoicing in cruelty, or of a fatalistic machine grinding out its foreordained consequences. What we require is some comprehensive plan which will knit together past, present, future in one great purpose of progress towards ultimate perfection, which will guarantee not only _an_ existence hereafter, but will render that existence personal, conscious, capable of the highest development. We find this in the Incarnation, the eternal purpose of God the Father, formed in the eternity of _the past_, that His Son should take our human flesh. This plan is working itself out in _the present_ by the power of God the Holy Ghost, through the life of the great Church of Christ, militant and expectant. It stretches forth into the future, with regard to which we have parables, promises, visions, warnings, all pointing to a continuously progressive growth till the perfect manifestation of the Kingdom of Christ be reached. Thus the Incarnation supplies the unifying principle, and in its light we catch some ray of hope on the dark problem of suffering. In consequence of sin our Lord was a sufferer, even in some mysterious sense was "made perfect through suffering" (Heb. ii. 10). The climax came in the "full, perfect, and complete sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world" made upon the Cross. It is suggestive that these words should occur in the Consecration Prayer of the Holy Communion Service, as if to remind us that our true spiritual and commemorative sacrifice draws all its validity, power, and preciousness from the one offering of Christ made by Himself in His death. Thus we see that most essential act for our salvation was not one of victory, triumph, or glory, as the world reckons these things. Oh, no! It was one of absolute self-surrender, involving untold anguish of soul and body. The results of the sufferings of our Lord have justified their tremendous cost. Its efficacy consisted not in the physical pains, but in the entire yielding up of the will. Thus it represents for us that victory over self which is the only path to eternal life. But this victory, even now in these emphatically feather-bed days, is always more or less painful. In the early times it meant persecution, poverty, isolation, death, for the sake of Jesus Christ. It is always so; the greatest deeds the world has ever known, nationally, or individually, have been wrought out by suffering; because suffering, more than any other agent, deepens character. Look around among your friends and acquaintances. Who are the morally strongest? To whom do you turn in your times of difficulty, doubt, trouble? Not to those whose lives have been easy, to whom the lines have fallen in pleasant places, to whom success has come without effort! No! You turn to the one who has fought his way through the doubt, the difficulty, the trouble, and you find a tower of strength. There is the secret of Charles Kingsley's power as a counsellor; once he did not believe that there was a God; he went through the agonies of doubt. There is the secret of the wondrous force of Archbishop Temple. Rough, rugged, almost discourteous at times; hating shams and penetrating them with an unerring instinct, but tenderness itself to the really distressed. He knew what it was as a lad to do field labour in poor clothes and with insufficient food. In later years, when up at College, he was wont to study by the light in the passage, because he could not afford oil for his own lamp. Yet another illustration, showing the directly spiritual influence of suffering--those countless cases of bed-ridden invalids, often in intense pain, who develop an intense, fervent, yet restful piety, seldom attained even by the most devout in active life. Those who have had experience in missions or dealing with individual souls know how constantly suffering--especially in middle life--lays the foundations of conversion. Ay, and lays them strong and deep. The soul in trouble feels its need of God, turns to Him, and then gets to know the fulness of His mercy, even in and through the affliction. And now, how stands it in regard to the War? We need not repeat in detail those various points on which we have already dwelt. Spite of all the ghastly sufferings the War is bringing in its train, nay, in a sense, because of them, it has linked together the Empire in the closest bonds, allayed political and polemical strife, evoked a wealth of heroism, self-sacrifice, prayer, and benevolence, and braced up the moral fibre of countless lives. Yet all this does not explain the existence of suffering, the why and the wherefore still lie hidden in that region of the infinite which we, finite beings, cannot penetrate. We can see, from its results, that suffering is no more incompatible with the eternal love of God, than the surgeon's knife is inconsistent with the tenderness of his heart. "Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth," "God dealeth with you as with sons" (Heb. xii., 6, etc.). Our great mistake is to look upon trouble as punishment, inflicted by an angry God, and to rebel under the chastening hand. When God sees that His child, whether the nation or the individual, needs discipline He sends it, and there is no more lack of love than there is on the part of the wise earthly parent, when he corrects his child and makes him suffer pain. Nay, it is the very love that prompts the discipline. Once more, let us look at suffering in its power of producing sympathy. The Incarnation was the greatest act of sympathy the world has ever known. The Word made flesh, our Saviour born as a babe, that He might enter into all the experiences of our human nature; that He might not simply feel _for_ us, but feel _with_ us. Here is the essence of the word; take it in Latin, compassion; take it in Greek, sympathy--alike it means feeling with. And in the wondrous mystery of the Church, the spiritual body of Christ, the same great principle is still working itself out. Very strange, very mysterious, yet real with the essence of reality, is the connection between the suffering Christ and the suffering Church, "inasmuch as ye have ministered to one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me." And yet it is the Christ Who helps and sustains us from on high. The same Christ Who was here upon earth, suffering in His martyr Stephen was yet standing at the Father's right hand to succour him. The same Christ Who flashed the wondrous vision of Himself on the eyes of S. Paul, was yet so intimately present in and with His infant Church that he "thundered" forth the question, "Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me?" It is just this thought of Christ still present in the person of His suffering children, that gives the glow of enthusiasm to philanthropic work of a definitely Christian character. But may we not go a step further and try to see Christ, in a measure, in all suffering, even that of the animals? He came to redeem the world, and we in our little view are apt to narrow down the purposes, and limit the possibilities within very contracted lines. The War is opening up to us opportunities boundless in their character and scope. Probably to-day tens of thousands who have hitherto spent aimless lives; whose time, means, gifts have gone in the shallow channel of self, now know something at least of the joy of launching out on to the broad stream of living, loving sympathy. This has been because, though in some instances unconsciously to themselves, Christ, in the power of His Holy Spirit, has touched their lives. If anguish has come to our hearts let it work its discipline upon us in and through Christ, by the opening out of ourselves to Him, that we may take in the full measure of His priceless sympathy. Let us try to lose ourselves in ministering to others, one of the surest anodynes for grief and pain. But if we have, as yet, passed unscathed, let us be all the more diligent, tender, and loving in our care for others. There is no need to go into details. Wherever your lot be cast you have only just to look around and you will find there are individuals, wives at home, soldiers at the front, whose lot you can brighten in very simple yet very real ways; perhaps institutions, such as Red Cross Homes, Hospitals, Belgian Hostels, to which you can render practical service; Funds to which you can send your money; all these are means through which you may enter into the glorious discipline of opportunity that comes through suffering. Have you ever thought how infinitely poorer the world would be in all that is highest and purest in its life, were there no suffering to call forth the tender ministry of sympathy? And now let us summarise what we have been saying. Suffering is a great mystery, but two facts throw light upon it--the hereafter, the Incarnation; suffering does discipline character, therefore, judging by results, it is not incompatible with the love of God, even though its existence be still a problem; suffering presents us with the splendid possibility of sympathy, to be exercised in the power of the loving Christ. Can we close better than with the thought of the saints in Paradise? On earth they lived in the always realised consciousness of a personal Christ. When the Apostles were persecuted and beaten, they departed from the Council "rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for His name." So it has been all down the long story of the ages. And the saints are those "who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb"; their sufferings sanctified by, and borne in, the power of Him Who was made perfect by the things which He endured. Their "light affliction, which was but for a moment, has worked out for them the exceeding abundant and eternal weight of glory." Thus the Incarnation, the eternal counsel of the past, that embraced them while they were on earth, is still enfolding them, while they, with us, wait and pray for its final consummation, in the coming of the Kingdom. Let us so use our opportunities for discipline now, that the uplifting of character shall be permanent; not a mere spasm of passing enthusiasm, but a real growth into the character and likeness of Him Who suffered death upon the Cross, that all might live unto Him. _For suggested Meditations during the week see Appendix._ VII =Discipline through Bereavement= SIXTH SUNDAY IN LENT 1 Thess. iv. 13 "We would not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning them that fall asleep; that ye sorrow not, even as the rest, which have no hope." Of all kinds of sorrow, bereavement is in some senses the sternest, the most irrevocable, and the one in which human compassion is of least avail. All that we said last week on the discipline of suffering applies here, but with enhanced force. If suffering generally cannot be rationally contemplated outside of the doctrine of a future existence, still less can death be tolerated unless it lead to further life. If sorrow in the bulk needs the Incarnation to throw upon it the light of God's love, still more does this particular grief require the assurance that the finished work of Christ operates within, as well as without, the vail. Broadly speaking, all over the world there are torn and bleeding hearts mourning the nearest, the dearest; in the vast majority of instances, from the circumstances of the case, men in the beginning or the very prime of life. The heroism of the women has been as magnificent as that of the men--nay, in a sense, more so. For those who go forth there is the novelty, the excitement, the nerving sense of duty. Their time is so ceaselessly occupied that but little space remains for brooding or for anxious thought, on behalf of themselves or those at home. The men who remain behind, the fathers, brothers, friends, have the priceless boon of daily occupation, often vastly increased in amount. There is no such infallible anodyne of care as plenty of honest work. But the women--theirs is the harder task, the fiercer trial, of keeping up the brave appearance, the show of cheerfulness, whilst all the time the load of apprehension and fear lies heavy on their hearts. None will ever know the crushing reality of the offering the women are making to their country, in one great stream of self-sacrifice. Nor can we forecast the end, nor estimate the claims that are yet to be made in the cause of patriotism. The nations engaged, at least the chief of them, are fixed irrevocably in their determination that peace, when it comes, shall be no temporary patching up of hostilities and arranging of indemnities, but a solid, lasting settlement, which shall, as far as possible, place another vast European war out of the range of practical politics. To tens of thousands there has come the ceaseless yearning for The touch of a vanished hand, The sound of a voice that is still. Now notice how S. Paul deals with the matter. "That ye sorrow not as others which have no hope." There is no injunction here not to sorrow at all; that would be contrary to human nature, and would bespeak callousness rather than resignation. Our Blessed Lord wept at the grave of Lazarus, and in so doing sanctified human grief. The keenest faith, to which the other world is an absolute reality; the fullest hope of the sure and certain resurrection for the dear one; the most disciplined and submissive will which accepts unquestioningly the dispensations of the Father; all these are not proof against the natural grief at the removal of a loved one from this sphere of tender intimacies, into another, where we can only commune with him in thought and prayer. How often this is illustrated at the death of a chronic invalid who has suffered much. With tears streaming down the cheeks, the mourner will say, "I am so thankful he is at rest." No selfish, rebellious side of grief is exhibited by those tears; only human sorrow, blending in loving harmony with perfect resignation. Now notice carefully the ground on which S. Paul bases the Christian's hope for the departed; first, faith in the death and resurrection of Christ; "if we believe that Jesus died and rose again." It is a mere platitude to say that the whole of S. Paul's teaching is founded on the actuality of the resurrection. "If Christ hath not been raised, your faith is vain; ye are yet in your sins. Then they also which are fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If in this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all men most miserable" (1 Cor. xv. 17). Then out of this fact of the resurrection flows a consequence: the dead, as we call them, "sleep in Jesus," and will be His immediate companions at the last day. We cannot enter into a discussion as to the exact conditions of what is called "Hades" or the "intermediate state"; suffice it to say that one great feature of it is nearness to Jesus, "having a desire to depart and be with Christ" (Phil. i. 23); "absent from the body, present with the Lord" (2 Cor. v. 8). Herein consists the blessed hope set before us in regard to the faithful departed; the crucified, risen, ascended Jesus has them in His keeping; we and they alike are parts of the one great Church, knit into the "Communion of Saints" by the mystic bond of the sacred bread, linked each to the other by mutual prayer; they for us and we for them. Very beautifully and tenderly does the Archbishop of Canterbury deal with this thought in one of his late sermons:-- "As with bowed head and quivering lip we commend their souls into the hands of a faithful Creator and most merciful Saviour we feel how the very passing of those brave and buoyant lives into the world beyond pierces the flimsy barrier between the things which are seen and temporal and the things which are unseen and eternal, and again we can and do give thanks. God is not the God of the dead, but of the living:-- "Nor dare to sorrow with increase of grief When they who go before Go furnished, or because their span was brief. For doubt not but that in the worlds above There must be other offices of love, That other tasks and ministries there are, Since it is promised that His servants there Shall serve him still. Therefore be strong, be strong, Ye that remain, nor fruitlessly revolve, Darkling, the riddles which ye cannot solve, But do the works that unto you belong." Here is the magnificent prospect of hope for those who mourn: that the Incarnation of our Lord is still working itself out in all its beneficent purposes. By the power of the Holy Ghost, in the Church expectant as in the Church militant, the answer to the constant prayer, "Thy Kingdom come," is being ceaselessly given; and the fulness thereof will be realised in the Church triumphant. The saints on earth and those in Paradise are equally in the hands of the Lord, though the latter have clearer vision and nearer sense of the fact than the former. By some this is used as an argument against the practice of prayer for the departed, but surely this thought of the unity of the whole body leads in exactly the opposite direction. No argument can be adduced against this most ancient and primitive custom, observed by the Jews long before the coming of Christ, but what equally applies to any petition for an absent friend still on earth. In each case they are in the keeping of Him Who knows best and will do right, yet for those still here we pray, believing that in His own way God will take account of our prayers and knit them up into His own dealings, so that they become part of His eternal purposes. When commending the departed to Him, naturally our words will be chastened and restrained because we know somewhat less of the conditions of the "intermediate state" than we do of those of our own dispensation. Somewhat less; for how little do we really understand of the circumstances around us now in all their bearings as they lie open beneath the eye of God. Therefore it is that whenever we pray we must ask in full submission to our own limitations and in the spirit of the Master, "Nevertheless not my will, but Thine be done." Thank God this matter is not one of argument; no, it lies in another plane: the innate feeling of one who really knows what prayer means and who has grasped in some degree the doctrine of the "Communion of Saints." A pious evangelical, well fortified with arguments against prayer for the departed, had been nursing her sick sister and taking care of the little daughter of the house. The sister died, and the same evening the motherless girl knelt down at her aunt's side to say her prayers. "Auntie, may I say God bless dear mother?" The whole drift of the aunt's training and theology would have led her to say "No" point blank. There was no time for argument or explanation, for facing the inevitable "If not, why not?" The instincts of natural religion prevailed; the aunt replied, "Yes, dear"; and from that day onward never failed herself to say, when remembering her dear ones, "God bless my sister." Whatever the effect of such prayers in the other world, there is no shade of doubt that to the bereaved they bring an infinite sense of nearness to their beloved, and of the reality of the life of the world to come. Thus far we have been speaking of those who may fairly be called the faithful departed, the cases in which hope may be reasonable and assured almost to certainty. Now let us go a step further. The mind staggers as it contemplates the tens of thousands being hurried into eternity who, either according to the teaching of the Catholic Church or the notions of popular theology, would be deemed unprepared. We trust, in a dim sort of way, that the all-embracing mercy of God will accept their sacrifice of themselves for their country, and in some fashion place it to the credit side of their account. No doubt He will. But can we not get a more evangelical, and at the same time more catholic, view of the matter? We find it in an extension of our conception of the possibilities of the intermediate state, the condition of souls between death and judgment. Evangelical to the backbone, because it is the work of Christ which we conceive of as being there carried on. Catholic, because the Church from very early times has recognised the idea of the discipline of souls as being a process continued after death. The authority of S. Paul has been appealed to on account of his words to the Philippians (i. 6), "being confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Jesus Christ"; and to the Corinthians in that mysterious passage concerning "the fire which shall try every man's work" (1 Cor. iii. 13). The doctrine was developed and materialised till it resulted in those corruptions which were so largely responsible for the Reformation. In their zeal to root out error, the Reformers fell into the opposite extreme and abolished the idea of the intermediate state altogether. Hence arose the popular notion, unknown to the Catholic Church till then, of Heaven or Hell as the immediate issue of death. Of course, the Church's teaching had regard to the condition of its own members after death, and we cannot press it into an argument as to those not dying, technically, in a state of grace; but at least this much we may say: Surely no intelligent person can contemplate the thought of these vast hosts being hurried off into eternal perdition, and at the same time retain his reason or his faith in a God of love. Whatever the possibilities of the world to come, they are but the extension of the boundless love of God in Christ, and hold out no promise for us if we wilfully neglect our day of grace. But now to pass on to one further source of consolation which comes in its measure to all the bereaved alike; the chastened joy from the thought of the splendid sacrifice the dear one has been privileged to make. Take an illustration--a letter from Major-General Allenby to Lady de Crespigny on the death of her son:-- "Dear Lady de Crespigny,--I and the whole of the Cavalry Division sympathise with you, and we feel deeply for Norman's loss. But I must tell you that he died a hero's death. The brigade was hotly engaged, and on the Bays fell the brunt of the fighting on September 1st. Norman, with a few men, was holding an important tactical point, and he held it till every man was killed or wounded. No man could have done more, few would have done so much. "With deepest sympathy, yours sincerely, "E.H.H. Allenby." How the bereaved hearts in the midst of crushing grief must have lit up with gladness at such a record as that! But to close. The discipline of bereavement consists essentially in the trial of faith, yet at the same time brings with it the power of faith. In bereavement, above all other forms of sorrow, comes the felt need of God; it has been so with countless souls. The answer to the need is the revelation that God makes of Himself in Christ; then comes the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, which dries the tears and heals the broken heart. _Note_.--The question of prayer in connection with God's foreknowledge is so admirably treated in "Some Elements of Religion" (Liddon) that we append an extract:-- "What if prayers and actions, to us at the moment perfectly spontaneous, are eternally foreseen and included within the all-embracing Predestination of God, as factors and causes, working out that final result which, beyond all dispute, is the product of His Good Pleasure? "Whether I open my mouth or lift my hand is, before my doing it, strictly within the jurisdiction and power of my personal will: but however I may decide, my decision, so absolutely free to me, will have been already incorporated by the All-seeing, All-controlling Being as an integral part, however insignificant, of His one all-embracing purpose, leading on to effects and causes beyond itself. Prayer, too, is only a foreseen action of man which, together with its results, is embraced in the eternal Predestination of God. To us this or that blessing may be strictly contingent on our praying for it; but our prayer is nevertheless so far from necessarily introducing change into the purpose of the Unchangeable, that it has been all along taken, so to speak, into account by Him. If, then, with 'the Father of Lights' there is in this sense 'no variableness, neither shadow of turning,' it is not therefore irrational to pray for specific blessings, as we do in the Litany, because God works out His plans not merely in us but by us; and we may dare to say that that which is to us a free self-determination, may be not other than a foreseen element of His work." _For suggested Meditations during the week see Appendix._ VIII =Discipline through Self-sacrifice= GOOD FRIDAY 1 Tim. ii. 6 "Christ Jesus, Who gave Himself a ransom for all." To-day we reach the solemn climax which embraces in itself the whole idea of discipline under each of those aspects upon which we have touched. Will, body, soul, spirit, obedience, suffering, death, all summed up in the tremendous self-sacrifice declared by the Cross of Christ. The principle of sacrifice is one of those deep mysteries which seem, as it were, to be rooted in the very nature of our being. It begins in the initial fact by which man's existence is maintained upon earth--motherhood, a vast vicarious sacrifice. Yet borne with gratitude, readiness, ay, even with joy because of the dignity, the love, the delights it brings with it. One of the surest signs of the decadence of a nation is when its women, through desire of merely living for themselves, begin to rebel against the high privilege of motherhood, or to neglect the duties it should entail. This attitude of mind poisons life at its fountain-head. Time would fail us, nor indeed would it be profitable, to enter upon a discussion as to the exact theological bearing of the death of Christ upon the forgiveness of sins. This is a matter which may rightly occupy the attention of theologians and scholars who endeavour, so far as infinite verities can be expressed in finite language, to give a reason for the hope that is in them. Such books as Liddon's Bampton Lectures, Dale on the Atonement, or Illingworth on Personality, will be found most valuable by those who have the time and the capacity for studying them. It is a good thing, especially in these days, that the intellect of the Christian should be well-equipped, so that he may silence the taunts of those who say Christianity is purely a matter of emotion. The personal acceptance of Christ as a personal Saviour rests, not so much on arguments, as on a sense of need; when this is accompanied by strong intellectual grip of truth then the influence of the Christian upon others becomes a great missionary factor. The beauty of the Gospel story lies in its wonderful adaptability. It is the same in its power to a Pascal, a Butler, a Liddon, as it is to the unlettered peasant, who can neither read nor write. Scripture declares quite plainly that the death of Christ was "for us"; how far this may be pressed to mean "instead of us" is a very grave question. The words will bear that interpretation, no doubt, but we must remember that they do not necessarily involve any more than "in our behalf," that is, for our benefit. It has been the forcing of the words into an unnatural and immoral theory of substitution, the notion of an angry God claiming a victim, that has done such terrible harm to the cause of Christianity, and has led many thoughtful minds to give it up in disgust or despair. Probably in a wise commingling of the two lines of thought we shall arrive most nearly at the truth. We all agree that our Blessed Lord's death was "in behalf of us"; that is for our everlasting welfare; in a very real sense this was "instead of us," since His sufferings were endured so that we might not lose the blessing of salvation. Very beautifully is the matter summed up by a modern writer: "In the death of the Lord Jesus Christ as a Sacrifice and Propitiation for the sins of the world, the moral perfections of God find their highest expression, and the deepest necessities of man's moral and spiritual life their only complete satisfaction."[3] [Footnote 3: Dale on the Atonement.] The death of Christ was not only typically but, in a certain sense, actually the offering up of our bodies on the Cross. Notice very carefully the words of St. Paul, "I have been crucified with Christ" (Gal. ii., 20 R.V.). Not simply, as in the old Authorised Version, "I am crucified with Christ," but something much more definite and exact. When Christ ascended the Cross He took up with Him our human nature collectively, as bound up in Himself by virtue of His Incarnation. Hence it follows that you, the individual, have been crucified with Him; just as you, the individual, have been buried with Him, and raised with Him in your Baptism (Rom. vi., 4). How completely this takes the sting out of the reproach brought against Christianity, on the ground of the immorality of the Crucifixion! It is no longer the Innocent one suffering instead of the guilty, but it is the sinless One taking upon Himself human nature, with all its guilt and consequent punishment, and "in His own body on the tree," offering that human nature up to God. He in us, we in Him, that the redemption of human nature may be complete. Canon Liddon thus puts it in one of his University sermons, "The substitution of the suffering Christ arose directly out of the terms of the Incarnation. The human nature which our Lord assumed was none other than the very nature of the sinner, only without its sin. Therefore He becomes the Redeemer of our several persons, because He is already the Redeemer of this our common nature, which He has made for ever His own." We have already noticed that it was not the sufferings of Christ which were acceptable to God the Father. To think this would be to fall back into the very crudest and most repulsive idea of substitution. No, it was the offering up of the will of Christ that formed the essence of the sacrifice. If we may presume to attempt a mere earthly illustration of so tremendous a matter, let us take the case of a General whose son meets with a terrible death while leading a forlorn hope. The father's heart is torn with anguish both for the death and the circumstances of it; but at the same time the father's heart swells with pride, ay, even with joy, that his son should have been true to the highest thing in the world--duty. He Who said, "I come not to do mine own will but the will of Him that sent Me," also said, "I lay My life down of Myself, no man taketh it from Me." Herein is the discipline of sacrifice complete by the using of one's own will to surrender it absolutely to the will of another. We have spoken so fully of the surrenders of will being made on all sides that we need say no more now on that point, but for further illustration let us turn our thoughts in a somewhat fresh direction. The example of Belgium is a living witness of the power of self-sacrifice. G.K. Chesterton has put forth a striking pamphlet entitled "The Martyrdom of Belgium"; in it he says: "There are certain quite unique and arresting features about the case of Belgium. To begin with, it cannot be too much considered what a daring stroke of statesmanship--far-sighted, perhaps, but of frightful courage--the King of the Belgians ventured in resisting at all. Of that statesmanship we had the whole advantage, and Belgium the whole disadvantage: she saved France, she saved England--herself she could not save." Had Belgium yielded instead of standing out, then, humanly speaking, nothing could have averted the immediate success of the German dash for Paris. Now think for one moment of the solemn obligation this lays upon us in regard to that gallant, struggling, yet temporarily dismembered little nation. We must look after the refugees. There are those who say, "The Government have brought the Belgians over here, let the Government make their support a State matter." One almost blushes to have to deal with such a sentiment. Could 1_s._ in the £ income-tax take the place, morally, spiritually, or ethically, of the rich profusion of voluntary aid now being poured forth? The loss to the nation, of that which is purest and noblest in its life, would be simply unspeakable. It is suffering that provides opportunity for the exercise of the highest duty known to man, "Bear ye one another's burdens and so fulfil the law of Christ." Try to picture to yourself, quietly yet resolutely, what it would mean to you to-morrow morning, to find suddenly that you had to leave your house, not in a motor-car for a railway train; no! but to turn out at once, without time to put together any belongings; to tramp, perhaps in pouring rain, along miles of road, foodless, cold, exhausted; seeing those around you dropping out to faint or die by the wayside; not knowing where or how the journey should end. This is what has happened to tens of thousands of Belgians; many, cultured and refined, coming forth penniless from homes of comfort and plenty! In ministering to the needs of the Belgians you find a glorious privilege, a priceless opportunity. Again, to quote G.K. Chesterton: "In a sense Belgium could still have saved her face; but she preferred to save Europe. This, it seems to me, gives her a claim on something beyond pity or even gratitude--a claim on our intellectual honour beyond anything that even suffering could extort." Our Lent is nearly over. With all its opportunities, its calls, its privileges, it is now behind us. Some perhaps began it with high resolves and brave hopes, and are disappointed at the apparently small results. None, we trust, are wholly satisfied with themselves, for that would point to a condition far worse than despair. There is such a thing as divine discontent, and every true Christian should know something of it. For all the conscious failures ask pardon, but do not give up striving. Standing under the Cross of Christ, as we do to-day, we have a standard for the measuring of ourselves which makes our little efforts at discipline look very poor indeed. Yet He remembers our frame, He knows whereof we are made; He can and will accept the feeblest struggles of our will towards His. Perhaps some progress in the life of grace may have been made, then thank Him and take courage. Let us just cast our minds back. The discipline of the will means, laying ourselves open to listen to the voice of the living God. The discipline of the body means, never letting it get the upper hand of the real self. The discipline of the soul means the taking a very serious view of the responsibility of life. The discipline of the spirit means, a close approach to God by every channel of worship. The discipline of obedience means, that we put self in the background, so that we may exalt the person of Christ. The discipline of sorrow means, that Christ is still present in His suffering ones, and there is our opportunity. The discipline of bereavement means, the trial of our faith that it may enter into the realities of the spiritual kingdom. Then comes the crown and climax, the discipline of self-sacrifice. Place steadily before you the thought of Christ crucified, see there the culmination of all possibility of the offering up of self for others. No element of completeness was wanting. The sacrifice was voluntary, was made for enemies, brought no return to self. Strong in His strength go forth ready to spend and be spent, if only by the discipline of self-sacrifice you can lighten the load borne by any one of your fellow-creatures. What hast Thou done for me, O Mighty Friend, Who lovest to the end? Reveal Thyself that I may now behold Thy love unknown, untold, Bearing the curse and made a curse for me That blessed and made a blessing I might be. Wounded for my transgressions, stricken sore, That I might sin no more, Weak, that I might be always strong in Thee: Bound, that I might be free; Acquaint with grief that I might only know Fulness of joy, in everlasting flow. * * * * * _For suggested Meditations during the week see Appendix._ IX =Discipline through Victory= EASTER DAY Romans vi. 9 "Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more." To couple the word discipline with victory may seem incongruous almost to the point of impossibility. Yet, if we look below the surface, we shall see that never is the connection more strong and the need for realising it more urgent. Lent is over, its special discipline has passed, and now the danger begins. The danger is lest any progress made, any victory won, should lead to that self-confidence which can only end in disaster. Success is often a discipline far more fatal in its results than failure. We celebrate to-day the grandest victory the world has ever known: a victory which sprang out of the depths of an apparently complete defeat. "We trusted that it was He which should have redeemed Israel." Vain confidence, for how could One Who had died as a malefactor, Who could not save Himself, rescue His nation from the tyranny of the Roman power? And then He, this stranger Whom they knew not, opened to them the Scriptures; showed them the necessity of the sufferings, and the great climax, in the Resurrection. The ears were dull, the hearts unconvinced, as they generally are by mere argument, till he revealed Himself in "the breaking of bread." The eyes of love could not be deceived and sorrow gave place to joy. Some dispute has arisen as to whether we ought to pray for victory in this War. The matter is well put by an anonymous writer: "If we are only to pray in matters wherein there is no difference of opinion our prayers will be few, and if we cannot pray for the triumph of honour over falsehood, of respect for treaties over unscrupulousness, of order over cruelty and outrage, for what are we ever to pray? We must pray according to the light we have. And if we end our prayers with the truly Christian supplement 'Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt,' we cannot be doing anything contrary to the principles of the highest religion. Surely prayer is, or should be, merely the expression of our best hopes and wishes submitted to a Divine tribunal." Putting aside the question of prayer, let us consider for a moment what should be our attitude as we look into the future. First and foremost one of confidence and hopefulness. Without arrogance we can say that we believe firmly and strongly in the absolute righteousness of our cause. In violating the neutrality of Belgium, Germany itself confesses that a wrong was done. A wrong which necessity compelled, as they say. What necessity? That of getting to Paris at the earliest possible moment. And so when Germany prays for victory, as of course it does, and ought, at the same time it has to confess to an initial wrong, which was certainly not made right by the fact that it was the quickest way of accomplishing an end. We have purposely abstained in these Addresses from fanning flames, or appealing to passions. But here is a broad ground upon which, by the very confession of our enemies, we stand on a higher platform. We went to war because we would not break a treaty, nor forsake a friend too weak for self-defence; Germany commenced the war by a treacherous act. Therefore, strong in the belief that the God of righteousness will cause the right to triumph, we can calmly look forward to ultimate victory, To doubt would be disloyalty, To falter would be sin. Much more might be said in the same direction, but let the broad thought suffice. The war has produced a type of pessimism which, in some instances, runs almost to disturbance of mental balance. Every reverse is exaggerated, and accepted with a kind of confident despondency; every success discounted and treated with half-hearted incredulity: "The Germans have destroyed another ship; what is our Navy doing?" "Oh, but that's only one little hill; the Germans will have it back soon enough." Surely this kind of pessimism, except where the victim of it is not really responsible, must be as offensive to God as it is exasperating to man. But now to turn to our chief thought for the day, that is, the permanence of the victory of Easter Day, "Christ dieth no more." That is why He is called "The first fruits of them that are asleep." Several resurrections are recorded both in the Old and New Testaments, but these are cases of those who were raised by others, and then died again. Christ raised Himself and death hath no more dominion over Him. The resurrection is permanent and keeps on perpetuating and extending itself in the life of the whole universal Church. It was not an isolated act, but part of a wondrous plan. Not only does it possess doctrinal significance in that plan, but vital force for the carrying of it out. "He died for our sins," but "He was raised for our justification." Yes, death's last hope, his strongest fort and prison, Is shattered, never to be built again; And He, the mighty Captive, He is risen, Leaving behind the gate, the bar, the chain. We are praying constantly, earnestly, that we "may be brought through strife to a lasting peace"; and that "the nations of the world may be united in a firmer fellowship for the promotion of Thy glory and the good of all mankind." No conditions of peace are worth accepting unless they will, humanly speaking, secure this result. Germany on the one side, and the Allies on the other, both realise that this is a "fight to a finish." Singularly enough the object of both sides is similar--to render another great European war impossible: but the ideals in respect to its attainment are by no means the same; one looks to the setting up of a world dominion; the other, to the establishment of a state of balanced power and mutual interests among European nations. We are fighting essentially for the principle of "live and let live," and therefore have to face unflinchingly all the sacrifice that still lies before us. When peace is concluded it must be upon terms which will make results permanent! Should Germany, in the mysterious providence of God, be allowed to become supreme, there will be peace, but, alas! only the peace of desolation and the numbness of despair. But, as we have already said, it seems disloyal to all our deepest instincts, all our truest feelings, even to contemplate such a possibility. But when the Allies triumph, what then?--the discipline of victory. Think for one moment of what the victory of Christ meant, as the ratification of the treaty signed upon the Cross, in the very hour of apparent defeat. It meant for you and me all that is included in the words "the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; the means of grace and the hope of glory." The resurrection puts the seal to the great charter, commenced at Bethlehem, indited page by page through the wondrous life of three and thirty years, closed, as to its earthly side, on Calvary, sealed, signed and delivered on Easter morning. In the power of that treaty of peace you and I live, day by day; secure except for our own carelessness; beyond all possibility of hurt from spiritual enemies, unless by our own traitorous dealings with them. The victory was complete! "He hath put all enemies under His feet"; the victory is permanent, for, "death hath no more dominion over Him." In these Addresses we have said much about those large results which God is allowing us already to see as obviously coming out of the war; on our Day of "Humble Prayer to Almighty God" we solemnly thanked Him: For the laying aside of controversies at home, and for the unity of the Nation and Empire; For the loyal and loving response of our fellow-subjects beyond the seas; For the full harmony between our Allies and ourselves, and for the success which has already been granted to our common efforts; For the devotion of those who have laid down their lives for their country; For the revelation in danger, in suffering, and in death, of the power of the Cross and the benefits of the Lord's Passion. Now remains the question, Are the results to be permanent? That entirely depends upon our attitude towards the discipline of victory; or how we are going to behave ourselves in the hour of success. It is written concerning Israel, "The Lord saved them from the hand of them that hated them: and redeemed them from the hand of the enemy. Then believed they His words, they sang His praise. They soon forgat His works: they waited not for His counsel." God willing we shall ere long be singing our Te Deum; oh! yes, we shall do it with all our heart and soul; but how are we to fix the emotions, to render permanent that thankfulness which we shall really feel. The Israelites "waited not for His counsel." They failed, that is, under the discipline of success. Victory is given that it may be used for good, just as much as failure is sent that we may rise on "stepping-stones of our dead-selves" to fresh endeavour. As a nation we have been single-minded and honourable in our entry upon and our waging of the War; when it is over we are to be just the same in our use of the fruits of the War. Victory will not come to us simply for our own sakes and that it may be selfishly exploited for our own needs. No, assuredly not: it will come for the mutual benefit of all concerned, and unless the very first fruits of it be dedicated to the cause of heroic Belgium, to her re-instatement in something of her former condition, it will have come in vain. The time of distress and disaster has knit together the Empire in a wondrous unity of brotherhood. There will be debts to be repaid to India and our Colonies, debts which can never be discharged in money, but in those higher acts of fellowship, justice, endeavour, which will knit yet closer the bonds that have been formed. There will remain a large heritage of disablement and unemployment to cope with which will require wise counsel, comprehensive measures, real self-sacrifice. It is computed that should the war last another eighteen months there will be nearly a quarter of a million men more or less unfitted to resume their ordinary callings. All this, you say, is the concern of the State; certainly, but what is the State? Only another term for you and me. Therefore the seriousness of attitude, the sense of proportion, the realisation of brotherhood, that by the mercy of God we have gained, must be retained for the facing of the new problems that will lie before us. Turning to the more purely personal aspect of it, there will be the temptation to grow slack and cold in intercessions and communions, when the immediate occasion that prompted them has passed. To be forewarned is to be forearmed, let us look out for this, expect it, then we shall not be afraid to meet it. "Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more"; think what the permanency of that victory has meant all down the ages of the past in the triumphs of the saints, in the deaths of the martyrs, in the splendid story of the Church of Christ. Think what it means to-day in the lives of millions of the faithful; in all the deeds of charity which are brightening homes, cheering hearts, giving hope to the hopeless, healing to the sick, and soundness to the maimed: think of all it means in rest and refreshment to the souls in Paradise; think of all it still will mean in the growth of the Church of Christ up to the fulness of its destined and glorious completion; think of all it may mean for you in your individual life, right up to the day when you shall be like Him, for you shall see Him as He is. In the permanence of the victory of Christ, may we each one of us so use the discipline of victory that it may redound to the glory of Him, in Whom we live, and move, and have our being. APPENDIX GIVING A SPECIAL THOUGHT AND PASSAGE FOR MEDITATION FOR EACH DAY IN LENT SUGGESTED BY THE ADDRESSES. APPENDIX A SUGGESTED THOUGHT FOR DAILY MEDITATION _N.B.--You will find it useful to look up references in a reference Bible._ Ash Wednesday: God wishes that we should be saved.--1 Tim. ii. 3, 4; 2 Pet. iii. 9. Thursday: Our natural will is in conflict with God's will.--Rom. vii. 21-25. Friday: God the Holy Ghost assists us by illuminating the will.--S. John xvi. 13-15. Saturday: What is the guiding principles of our lives?--Ps. xxxix. 7; S. Matt. vi. 19-24. 1st Sunday in Lent: The Incarnation the mission of Christ to the body.--S. John i. 1-14; Eph. v. 23. Monday: The body in its physical aspect wonderfully suited to its purposes.--Gen. i. 26-28; ii., 7; Ps. cxxxix. 14. Tuesday: The body the external means by which we receive the Sacraments.--Heb. x. 22; Acts viii. 14-17; 1 Cor. xi. 26. Wednesday: The body in its ultimate destiny.--1 Cor. xv. 42-49; 1 John iii. 2, 3. Thursday: Disciplining the body braces the will.--2 Tim. ii. 3; Heb. xi. 32-40. Friday: The corporate life of the Church in its bearing on influence and conduct.--1 Cor. xii. 12-27. Saturday: The duty of example in respect of the temperance question.--1 Cor. viii. 7-13; 2 Cor. viii. 9. 2nd Sunday in Lent: The inner value of our life.--S. Mark viii. 34-38. Monday: The deadening effect of prosperity.--S. James v. 1-6. Tuesday: Our Lord's example of single-mindedness.--S. Mark vii. 37; S. Matt. xxvi. 39-44. Wednesday: The need for seriousness in thought.--S. Matt. xv. 10-20; Phil. iv. 8. Thursday: The need for seriousness in word.--S. James iii. 1-11. Friday: The need for seriousness in deed.--S. James iii. 13-18; 1 Pet. v. 8. Saturday: The need for perseverance, lest we forfeit our blessings.--Rom ii. 4-7; Rev. ii. 18-29. 3rd Sunday in Lent: Man seeking after God.--Ps. xlii. Monday: The Incarnation the means by which the union between God and man is brought about.--S. John xvii. 17-26. Tuesday: Prayer the characteristic act of religion.--S. Matt. vii. 7-12; Eph. vi. 18. Wednesday: The importance of self-examination as leading to self-knowledge.--Gal. vi. 3-5. Thursday: Confession of sins to God the only condition of forgiveness.--1 John i. 5-10. Friday: Forgiveness of sins comes from God through the blood of Christ.--Eph. i. 3-12. Saturday: The ministry of reconciliation committed to the ministers, as Christ's ambassadors.--2 Cor. v. 18; S. John xx. 22, 23. 4th Sunday in Lent: The natural body of Christ the source of healings.--S. Matt. xiv. 34-36. Monday: The spiritual body of Christ found in His Church.--Eph. i. 18-23. Tuesday: The sacramental body of Christ, given to us in the Holy Communion.--1 Cor. x., 14-21. Wednesday: Obedience the test of religion.--Rom. vi. 16-23. Thursday: Self-indulgence the great obstacle to obedience.--S. Luke xvi. 19-31. Friday: Self-renunciation the condition of service.--Acts xx. 17-24. Saturday: Our Lord's example of obedience.--Phil. ii. 1-11; Heb. xii. 1-3. 5th Sunday in Lent: Suffering in the light of eternity.--Rev. vii. 9-17; 2 Cor. iv. 17, 18. Monday: Suffering in the light of the Incarnation.--S. Matt. viii. 16, 17; Heb. iv. 14-16. Tuesday: Christ still suffering in His people.--S. Matt. xxv. 34-46; Acts ix. 4. Wednesday: Devotion to Christ the power of endurance.--Acts v. 40-42; Rom. viii. 35-39. Thursday: Christ succouring those who suffer for Him.--Acts vii. 54-60; xxvii. 21-26. Friday: Character disciplined by suffering.--Heb. x. 32-36; xii. 4-11. Saturday: Suffering giving opportunity for sympathy.--Heb. xii. 12, 13; S. James i. 27; ii. 14-16. 6th Sunday in Lent: The resurrection of Christ, the basis of hope.--1 Thess. iv. 13-18. Monday: The Holy Spirit the power of the risen life, here and hereafter.--Rom. viii. 5-11. Tuesday: The communion of Saints in the one body of Christ.--Heb. xii. 1, 2, and 22-24. Wednesday: The departed remembering us.--S. Luke xvi. 19-31; esp. v. 24; Rev. vi. 9. Thursday: The glorious reward of faithful service.--S. Matt. xxv. 14-23. Good Friday: What does the death of Christ mean to me?--S. John xix. 23-30. Easter Eve: Am I showing the fruits of my Baptism by leading a risen life?--Rom. vi. 1-11. * * * * * PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY R. CLAY AND SONS, LTD., BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E., AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK. 
21987	----	THE VILLAGE PULPIT A Complete Course of 66 Short Sermons, or Full Sermon Outlines for Each Sunday, and Some Chief Holy Days of the Christian Year. by the REV. S. BARING-GOULD M.A., Author of "A First Series of Village Preaching for a Year." "A Second Series of Village Preaching for a Year." "Village Preaching for Saints' Days." "The Preacher's Pocket." "The Mystery of Suffering." "Sermons to Children." "Sermons on the Seven Last Words." &c. VOL. II. TRINITY TO ADVENT. Second Edition. London: Skeffington & Son, 163, Piccadilly. 1886. CONTENTS. SERMON XXXVII. _CHRISTIAN UNITY._ (Trinity Sunday.) S. Matt. xxviii. 19. "In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." SERMON XXXVIII. _GREAT SURPRISES._ (1st Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke xv. 23. "In hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments." SERMON XXXIX. _THE HOLY COMMUNION._ (2nd Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke xiv. 16. "A certain man made a great supper." SERMON XL. _RECEIVING AND SELECTING._ (3rd Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke xv. 2. "This Man receiveth sinners." SERMON XLI. _RASH DECISIONS._ (4th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke vi. 37. "Judge not--condemn not--forgive." SERMON XLII. _THE SECRET OF SUCCESS._ (5th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke v. 5. "We have taken nothing; nevertheless, at Thy word I will let down the net." SERMON XLIII. _PERSISTENCY IN WRONG DOING._ (6th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Matt. v. 25. "Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the way with him." SERMON XLIV. _THE MEASURE OF SIN._ (7th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Mark viii. 2. "I have compassion on the multitude." SERMON XLV. _CASTING BLAME._ (8th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Matt. vii. 15. "Inwardly they are ravening wolves." SERMON XLVI. _PETTY DISHONESTY._ (9th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke xvi. 3, 4. "What shall I do?--I am resolved what to do." SERMON XLVII. _THE CONSEQUENCES OF SIN._ (10th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke xix. 42. "If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes." SERMON XLVIII. _SELF-INSPECTION._ (11th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke xviii. 13. "The publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God, be merciful to me, a sinner." SERMON XLIX. _PERFECTION TO BE SOUGHT._ (12th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Mark vii. 37. "He hath done all things well." SERMON L. _ZEAL._ (13th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke x. 25 "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" SERMON LI. _GRATITUDE._ (14th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke xvii. 18. "There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger." SERMON LII. _TRUST IN GOD._ (15th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Matt. vi. 31. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness." SERMON LIII. _THE CONTEMPLATION OF DEATH._ (16th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke vii. 12. "Behold, there was a dead man carried out." SERMON LIV. _HUMILITY._ (17th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Luke xiv. 2. "Whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." SERMON LV. _PROFESSION AND PRACTICE._ (18th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Matt. xxii. 42. "What think ye of Christ?" SERMON LVI. _EVIL THOUGHTS._ (19th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Matt. ix. 4. "Wherefore think ye evil in your hearts?" SERMON LVII. _THE HEAVENLY BANQUET._ (20th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Matt. xxii. 4. "Behold, I have prepared my dinner; my oxen and my fatlings are killed, and all things are ready; come unto the marriage." SERMON LVIII. _EXAMPLE._ (21st Sunday after Trinity.) S. John iv. 13. "And himself believed, and his whole house." SERMON LIX. _THE PREACHER AND HIS HEARERS._ (22nd Sunday after Trinity.) S. Matt. xviii. 23. "The Kingdom of Heaven is likened unto a certain king, which would take account of his servants." SERMON LX. _THE IMAGE OF SELF._ (23rd Sunday after Trinity.) S. Matt. xxii. 20. "Whose is this image?" SERMON LXI. DREAD OF RIDICULE. (24th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Matt. ix. 24. "And they laughed Him to scorn." SERMON LXII. _WHAT LASTS, AND WHAT PASSES AWAY._ (25th Sunday after Trinity.) S. Matt. xxiv. 35. "Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My word shall not pass away." SERMON LXIII. _THANKFULNESS TO GOD._ (Harvest.) S. Matt. xxii. 21. "Render--unto God, the things that are God's." SERMON LXIV. _THE FORMATION OF HABITS._ (SCHOOL SERMON.) Proverbs xxii. 6. "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." SERMON LXV. _RELIGIOUS ZEAL._ (Dedication Festival.) Psalm lxix. 9. "The zeal of Thine house hath eaten me up." SERMON LXVI. _THE MEETING HEREAFTER._ (Funeral Sermon.) Joshua iii. 17. "And the priests that bare the ark of the covenant of the Lord stood firm on dry ground in the midst of Jordan, and all the Israelites passed over on dry ground, until all the people were passed clean over Jordan." XXXVII. _CHRISTIAN UNITY._ Trinity Sunday. S. Matt. xxviii. 19. "In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." INTRODUCTION.--An ancient writer informs us that when the Egyptians named their Greatest God who was over all, they cried thrice, "Darkness! Darkness! Darkness!" And when we come to speak of the great mystery of the Holy Trinity, the utmost we can do is to repeat their cry, and say, "Darkness! Darkness! Darkness! In the name of the Father--Darkness, and of the Son--Darkness; and of the Holy Ghost--Darkness!" for however much the mind may strive to penetrate this mystery, it can never attain to its solution. Just as the eye, looking at the sun, sees the Overpowering light as a dark ball, being dazzled by its excessive glory, so the eye of the mind perceives only darkness, when looking into the infinite splendour of God in Three Persons. We may, indeed, see sundry likenesses here on earth, which assist us in believing the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, but they are helps, and helps only; and not explanations. Thus, the sun may shine into a glass, and the glass reflect in clear water, and we see three suns, a sun in the heaven, a sun in the glass, and a sun in the water, which proceeds from both;--and this assists us to understand how the Son of God is of the Father, and the Holy Ghost is of the Father, and of the Son, and how that each is God, and yet that there are not three Gods, but one God. But, after all, the doctrine of the Holy Trinity is a matter of Faith, and not of Reason. We must believe, though we cannot understand. SUBJECT.--In this Holy Trinity of Persons there is perfect unity existing, an unity of substance, an unity of Godhead, an unity of perfection, an unity of love. And on earth, among men, there should be unity. "Be ye perfect," said our Lord, "even as your Father which is in Heaven is perfect." The Father is love, the Son is love, and the Holy Ghost is the love of the Father and of the Son, and this love requires the same of us--even love, or unity. This is what God wills on earth, our living unity, even as it exists in Heaven between the Three Persons of the glorious Trinity. But there are three great hindrances to Christian Unity. I. _Selfishness_. Each man seeks his own interest, not the general interest. Let his own selfish interests be touched, and all concord is at an end. Look at two little dogs playing together, they put their paws on each other's shoulders, and dance round each other, and roll each other over, and are full of affectionate play. Throw them a bone, and it is a true bone of contention at once. All their affection is dead, and they are fighting each other for the bone. It is the same with men, they are perfectly friendly with each other so long as no little bone comes in the way--some little money matter--and then there is no end to the snarling and snapping and growling. How often it is that the dearest friends fall out about money! This has been so often noticed that it has become a common saying, "Have no money dealings with your friend." Even near relations become bitter, and are estranged, over some provision in a will. All this arises from self-seeking. Each cares for himself, and not for others. Now look at the Holy Trinity. The Three Persons share in equal Power, Majesty, and Eternity. The Father commits all power unto the Son, the Son gives all honour to the Father, the Son gives over to the Holy Ghost the government of His Church. The Father shares with the Son and the Holy Ghost the Divine nature, wisdom, and glory. All three are equally eternal, equally almighty, equally perfect. II. _Pride_. Each man seeks to place himself before another. 'I am as good as another, or I am above so-and-so,' is a common thought. No man is content with what he is, he desires to thrust himself ahead of another. The whole of society is like a cabbage-stalk covered with caterpillars, and none is satisfied till it has crawled to the top. The caterpillar at the bottom bites the one above him, gets over his back, and then exults, 'There is a caterpillar nearer the bottom of the cabbage-stalk than I,' and so all the way up the stalk, those below scrambling over those above, and they at the top--at the proud elevation and unique honour of being at the head of a cabbage-stalk--tumble off, and are buried in the soil. Was there any such pride of place in the angel host? Yes--once. The Devil wanted to be at the top, and he fell. The other angels are content where they are, and they remain angels. If they began pushing ahead of each other, cherubim wanting to be above seraphim, and angels envious of archangels, what a falling there would be from heaven! Falling stars indeed! All turning into devils. Look at the Blessed Trinity. God the Son says, "My Father is greater than I." He places Himself in the lowest rank. He calls Himself "The Son of Man"; there is no boasting, "I am the Son of God." III. _Obstinacy_. That is the third source of discord. Each man follows his own will, his dogged, headlong will, regardless of the wishes and advice of others. In the Book of Judges we read that Samson caught three hundred foxes and tied them together by their tails, and put burning brands between them, where their tails were tied. What was the consequence? The wretched creatures dashed in opposite directions, each wanted to get away from the brand that scorched his tail, and so each wanted to go exactly in a different direction from the fox to which he was tied, and so the whole lot went dashing in a mad, disorderly manner among the standing corn, and destroyed a whole harvest. That is something like a great number of people I know. They will tear off in their own direction, and drag others after them who wish to go in another direction, and the fire of discord is between them. Look at the Blessed Trinity. Christ said, "I came not to do mine own will, but the will of Him that sent me." "Let us make man," was said at the Creation. God the Father did not say "I will make man," nor God the Son "I will make man in My image," nor God the Holy Ghost "I will make man, and breathe My spirit into him," but all united in one work, and that work was very good. CONCLUSION.--When Julian the Apostate was Emperor, three Christian soldiers were brought before him. Their names were Emmanuel, Sabael, and Ismael. He ordered them to be examined apart, lest they should encourage one another in their faith and endurance under torture. Emmanuel, seeing his object, said, "Tyrant! we Three are one in one Trinity." Now, listen to our Lord's prayer, "I pray not for these alone, but for those also which shall believe on Me through their word, that they all may be one; as Thou, Father, art in me, and I in Thee." XXXVIII. _GREAT SURPRISES._ 1st Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke xvi. 23. "In hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments." INTRODUCTION.--What a great surprise for Dives! So utterly unawaited! Dives, who had lived so comfortably, clothed in purple and fine linen, and had had such a good coat, and such excellent dinners, and such a cellar of wine, and such good friends at his dinners, goes to sleep one night after a banquet, and wakes up, and lo!--he is in hell. Surprise number one. He feels the flames, he perceives himself surrounded by demons, his tongue is burning with thirst, and he lifts up his eyes and sees!--surprise number two!--Lazarus, the poor dirty wretch who had lain full of sores at his door. He did not know that the fellow was dead. And--surprise number three!--this wretched fellow is in Paradise. There is another story of a great surprise in the Gospels. That is of the man who laid up for himself great possessions, and said to himself, "Soul! thou hast much goods laid up for many years,--I will pull down my barns and build greater--take thy ease, eat, drink and be merry." That night he died, and when his soul came to realise the fact that he had nothing left of all he had laid by--that was a great surprise, and a very unpleasant one. SUBJECT.--Let us take care that we do not have some such a great and unpleasant surprise ourselves. "Take heed," says our Lord, "to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting, and drunkenness, and cares of this life, and so that day come upon you unawares." I. Now I am going to tell you a story of another great surprise. The king of Syria was engaged in war with the king of Israel, and one of the servants of the king of Syria told him that Elisha the Prophet saw and knew all that was planned by him against the king of Israel, and that he told the king of Israel, so that the Syrians were never able to catch him at a disadvantage, and defeat him. Then the king of Syria enquired where this prophet lived, and was told that he was then at Dothan. "Therefore sent he thither horses and chariots, and a great host: and they came by night and compassed the city about." Then Elisha prayed to God to deceive and blind the eyes of the soldiers, and he went out of the gates of Dothan to them, and said, "This is not the way, neither is this the city; follow me, and I will bring you to the man whom you seek." So he went before, and led them along the road to Samaria, the capital of the king of Israel. Then he brought them all in through the gates, and they followed, as docile as lambs, and when they were in the market-place, he said, "Lord, open the eyes of these men, that they may see." And the Lord opened their eyes, and lo! they were in the market-place in the midst of Samaria, and all around them were the soldiers of their enemy, the king of Israel, with swords drawn, and in the windows were others armed with stones and javelins and molten lead to hurl down on them. Here was an unpleasant surprise! The king of Israel and all his soldiers were eager to be at them and cut them to pieces, but Elisha was too good-hearted for that, he persuaded the king to be generous, to give them their breakfast and send them home. So "He prepared great provisions for them; and when they had eaten and drunk, he sent them away, and they went to their master." They were lucky to be let off so easily, and they owed their lives to there being a Saint of God there to intercede for them. But you may be assured to their dying day they carried with them a lively recollection of the very unpleasant surprise it was to them when their eyes were opened, and they found themselves in the midst of their enemies, when they fondly supposed themselves in the humble and undefended little town of Dothan. II. Now for you!--Whither are you going? Whither are you being led? Are you at all aware? I very much fear that a great many of you are as blind and as ignorant of the road you are treading as were those soldiers of the king of Syria. You are going on headlong, chattering with one another, laughing and singing, in open order, very little discipline, and perfectly confident that you will come to no harm. Take care! Some day your eyes will be opened, and you will experience an unpleasant surprise. Then, when your eyes are opened you will see yourselves surrounded by the enemies of your souls, ready to drag you to destruction, and no help near. Very unexpected was this case of the Syrians, that the prophet prayed for them, and that instead of being put to death they were fed and sent away in peace. That is not what you must expect. Dives, when his eyes were opened, cried to Abraham, but got no help, no, not even a drop of water to cool his tongue. III. No man need go blindly to destruction, for God has given him guidance, and power of seeing whither he goes. The prophet led these soldiers of Syria into the midst of their enemies, but God's good Spirit, which is our guide, will lead us into the Land of Righteousness if we will listen to His voice, and go where he points the way. We have no right to plead blindness and ignorance, if hereafter we find that we have gone astray, and our eyes are opened when we are in the midst of our enemies, for blindness can not come upon us unless we wilfully shut our eyes to the light, and with the teaching of Christ and His Church ever sounding in our ears, we have no right to plead ignorance. Moreover, God is so merciful, that He never allows any to go to destruction unwarned of their danger. As He sent His angel to stand in the way of Balaam, so will He send some check, and throw some obstacle in the road you are treading, to bring you to your senses in time, and will not allow you to perish, unless you wilfully and deliberately persist in the road of evil, knowing the consequences, and knowing whither you are going. CONCLUSION.--Lastly. It was a great surprise to Lazarus when he found himself in Paradise. He had no doubt hoped and prayed to be admitted there, but when he found himself there, he was amazed to see how far its happiness and its peace surpassed his expectations. So with those of us who are found meet to enter Heaven. However great our anticipations, they will be surpassed. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, to conceive those good things which God hath prepared for those who love Him. May He bring us all to that glad surprise. XXXIX. _THE HOLY COMMUNION._ 2nd Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke xiv. 16. "A certain man made a great supper." INTRODUCTION.--When the fulness of time was come, God the Eternal Father said: "In burnt-offerings and sacrifices for sin, I have no pleasure." Then said the Son, "Lo, I come." He came that He might take away the valueless sacrifice, and establish the one full and perfect propitiation for the sins of the world. And indeed it was time. All creation was groaning and travailing in pain, and waiting for redemption, then said He--"Lo, I come." The souls of the faithful were in Hades, prophets, patriarchs, and kings, desirous to see His Day, prisoners of Hope, desirous to be released by His Blood of the Covenant,--then said He--"Lo, I come." Men wandered in darkness, desiring light, the whole head was sick, and the whole heart faint, and in their error, darkly, and in their sickness, faintly, they sought the Lord, if haply they might feel after Him; then said He--"Lo, I come." They knew not the way of God how they might walk, and they needed a guide; then said He--"Lo, I come." They were sunk in sin, and found that the old bloody sacrifices and burnt offerings could not take away guilt, they needed a more perfect sacrifice; then said He--"Lo, I come." They knew not what the nature of God was, and they formed to themselves gods, in the likeness of men. How should they know without a teacher? Then said He--"Lo, I come." Nor is this all. At this day, still His answer is, promptly, when He is needed--"Lo, I come." Does any father desire his dear little one to be taken into the arms of Christ and blessed, still His answer is--"Lo, I come." Does any man need direction, guidance, help in the way of life? He says, "Lo, I come; I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." Does any desire sustaining food by the way? He says--"Lo, I come, and the Bread I give is My flesh, which I give for the life of the world." Is any burdened with the weight of sin, and desires pardon and reconciliation, He says--"Lo, I come, though thy sins be as scarlet, they shall be made as white as wool." Is any in sorrow, and heart sore? He says, "Lo, I come to bind up the broken-hearted." Is any dying?--He is still ready with His answer, "Lo, I come, when thou goest through the waters I am with thee." You see how striking is the readiness of Our Blessed Lord. Now look at to-day's Gospel, and see how this is met by man. Christ is represented as having made a great supper, the Holy Eucharist, and to that he invites all Christians, and He sends forth His messengers to bid them come, then they all with one consent begin to make excuse. The messengers go to the man who has bought oxen, and invite him to the supper of his lord, and his answer is, "I pray thee, have me excused." They go to a man who has bought a farm, and his answer is, "I pray thee, have me excused." They go to a man who has married a wife, and his answer is, "I cannot come." "Lo, I come!" says Christ. "I cannot come," says man. "Lo, I come to man," says Christ. "I cannot come to Christ," says man. I. It was the rule among the early Christians to communicate every Lord's Day. The rule of the Church, as laid down in the service-books, then ordered that all those who were open and scandalous livers, all those who had committed some deadly sin, and had not been reconciled to God, should leave church before the Consecration, after the reading of the Gospel. Now suppose some good old bishop of that day were to rise from the dead, and come into this church, what would he see?--Directly the sermon is over,--a rush of almost all in the church, men, women, and children, running out of the door, and only three or four, or at most a dozen, remaining to partake of the Lord's Body. That is what he would see. Now, what would he say?--He would lift up his hands in horror, and say, "What is this? All these notorious sinners! All these open profligates! All these burdened with mortal sin, cutting them off from the grace of God! Take me back to my grave, I do not want to see any more of such horrible days." But if I happened to be present, I would say to him. "You are jumping to conclusions too rashly. Times are altered. It is not the criminals and profligates who go out of church before the Consecration of the Blessed Sacrament, and are unworthy to eat of the Lord's Body, it is those who cannot make up their minds to do exactly what the Lord commanded; it is those who are half-hearted, who wish to serve God, but do not want to serve Him very much." Then, I doubt not, the old bishop would turn upon me with a wrathful face, and say, "Let me go back to my grave! This is worse! A thousand times worse! The whole Christian world has grown cold of heart, and dead of faith, if all with one consent begin to make excuse, and say, 'I cannot come.' I had rather they were either hot or cold, but because they are neither hot nor cold--away! I cannot bear to look at their faces! Let me go back to my grave." III. I know what is passing in your minds as well as if you had got glass skulls. And this is what I see that not a few of you are thinking. "Ha! there is the Parson at it again! always hammering away at Communion. Can he not leave us alone? Let him talk to us of other matters; let him preach to us some real stinging gospel truth, and make us wince. Anything but this eternal preaching about coming to Communion." Now I will tell you why I preach about this, and hammer, hammer, at it. Because it is good stinging gospel truth, and the grumbling that is going on is because your consciences really are wincing at what I say. Listen:--other folks talked like you in olden times. When the children of Israel came out of Egypt, God in mercy sent them Bread from Heaven, the manna, to feed them on their way through the wilderness. What said the people in return for the blessing? Were they very grateful? Were they very eager to gather up the Angels' food? By no means, they sat grumbling in their tents and said, "Our soul is dried away; there is nothing beside this manna before our eyes." Put into modern language that is, "Our souls have dried up for want of preaching of free justification, and no good at all in keeping the law; we don't want any of your Sacramental teaching, no Communion for us, we can do very well without that, our soul abhorreth this light food, as for this Holy Communion, there is nothing but that preached to us, year in, year out." Well! If this Sacramental teaching be not God's own blessed Gospel, there is no meaning in words. Listen to this! I never said anything so strong, and this is what Christ Himself spake:--"I am the Bread of Life. Your fathers did eat manna in the wilderness, and are dead. I am the living bread which came down from heaven, if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is My flesh, which I give for the life of the world." "Verily, verily, I say unto you, except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, ye have no life in you. Whoso eateth My flesh, and drinketh My blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him up at the last day. For My flesh is meat indeed, and My blood is drink indeed." Now--mark you. When Jesus said this, many of His disciples said, "This is a hard saying"--and, from that time they went back, and walked no more with Him. It is so still, it will be so always. Just as many of the old Israelites loathed the manna and said, "Our souls are dried away; there is nothing but this manna before our eyes," so there always will be faithless disciples who when they hear the invitation to partake of the Body of Christ, the true Manna, will say, "This is a hard saying," and will thenceforth no more walk with Him. XL. _RECEIVING AND REJECTING._ 3rd Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke, xv. 2. "This Man receiveth sinners." INTRODUCTION.--In to-day's Gospel our Lord represents Himself as a Good Shepherd seeking His lost sheep, going out into the wilderness after them, to bring them back into the fold. The fold is that place where He keeps His flock shut behind the hurdles of the Ten Commandments. Every now and then a sheep leaps one of these hurdles, or pushes his way between them, and runs away into forbidden pastures. Then the Good Shepherd goes after the erring sheep, and brings it back. "And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost." SUBJECT.--Christ is not always to be regarded as the Saviour receiving sinners. The time will come when He will be the Judge, rejecting them. He is a shepherd now, bringing back the straying sheep, and replacing them in the fold, but one day He will do just the contrary, He will go to His fold, and pick out the incorrigibly bad sheep, and cast them out. I. We will consider Him now as the Good Shepherd. What is His purpose in bringing back the straying sheep? That they may remain within bounds for the future. Christ has come to save sinners, that is to say, He brings them to repentance, and pardons their transgressions, in order that, for the future, they may walk in newness of life, and not commit the sins of which they were guilty before. Thus if He brings back one who has been a liar, it is to truth that he returns, and Christ expects him to speak the truth ever after. If He brings back a drunkard, it is to temperance, and He expects him to be sober for the future. If He brings back one who has sinned through impurity, it is to chastity and modesty. This is what S. Paul means when he says, "Put off concerning the former conversation, the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts; and be renewed in the spirit of your mind. Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbour. Let him that stole steal no more, let no corrupt conversation proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying. Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice. And be ye kind one to another, tender hearted, forgiving one another." II. We will consider Christ as the Judge. The time will come when He will separate the bad from the good, when He will go over His fold, and pick out all those diseased sheep which are good for nothing, and which taint and infect the others, and will cast them outside. That is to say, the time will come, when Christ will no more call sinners to Him, and bring them to His Church, but will examine those who are in His Church, and unless they have mended their ways, unless they have become better for being there, He will throw them out, and have nothing further to do with them. When Joshua was leading the people of God into the Promised Land, God said to Joshua, "Up! Sanctify the people, and say, Sanctify yourselves against to-morrow." In what did this sanctification consist? "Joshua rose early in the morning, and brought Israel by their tribes; and the tribe of Judah was taken: and he brought the family of Judah; and took the family of the Zarhites: and he brought the family of the Zarhites man by man; and Zabdi was taken: and he brought his household man by man; and Achan, the son of Carmi was taken." Then Joshua learned how this man had sinned and incurred the anger of God, and he and all Israel carried him and his family outside the camp unto the valley of Achor, "and all Israel stoned him with stones, and burned them with fire, after they had stoned them with stones." That was the sanctification of Israel,--the putting away the black sheep out of the flock. When Jesus sat with His Twelve in the supper chamber, at the Last Supper, Judas rose and went out, and when he was gone forth, Jesus said, "Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in Him." A little while before, while Judas was in the room, we are told, "Jesus was troubled in spirit." But the moment the evil one among the Apostles was cast forth, the glorification of the Son of Man began. So it is now, and so will it be hereafter. Now, as long as there is evil in the Church, as long as there are sinners who will not amend, as long as there are tares growing up with the wheat,--so long "Jesus is troubled in spirit." But when the great Day comes, when our true Joshua will lead the people of God into the Promised Land, then He will sanctify His people by casting out from among them the Achans; then from the company of His Elect the Judases will be banished, and the Son of Man will be glorified indeed. CONCLUSION.--Therefore, my Brethren, be careful to amend. You may have been strayed sheep who have been mercifully brought back to the fold, if so, amend your ways, and grow in holiness and in spiritual health; or in the Last Day you will be thrust forth as incurable, and the Children of God will be sanctified, whilst you are buried in the valley of Achor. XLI. _RASH DECISIONS._ 4th Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke vi. 37. "Judge not--condemn not--forgive." INTRODUCTION.--Our Lord here condemns all rash judgments. We know not the motives of other men's actions, and therefore have no right to pass a sweeping condemnation upon them. From our ignorance, we ought to be cautious and merciful in our judgments, and from our own weakness, we should be forgiving to those who have trespassed against us. Rash judgments arise from pride. It is because we are puffed up with a high opinion of our own selves, our own goodness, the soundness of our judgment, the sharpness of our perception, that we are so prompt to pass judgment on others. SUBJECT.--This same Pride urges us to something else, Persistency in maintaining that on which we have determined, even after we know it is unwise. It is of this which I am going to speak to-day. This fault is so closely akin to rash judgment of others, that I may well address you on the subject upon a Sunday when our Lord warns against the other. I. Many a man, out of pride, sticks to what he says after he knows that it is wrong. He will not admit that he is wrong, or he is moved by a false sense of what is due to himself to hold to his word, or to his opinion, when his conscience tells him that he is in error. You must have met with those stubborn persons who are not to be moved by any argument, not to be convinced by any proof, that they are wrong. They have made up their minds once for all, and are no longer open to reverse their decision. Let us look to Scripture, and see if we have any examples of such. I find two; and one of these is in a man of whom we might have hoped better things--King David. I. When David came to the kingdom, he was very anxious to show kindness to any son of Jonathan whom he might find; and he heard of Mephibosheth, who was lame in both his feet, and at once made over to him all the landed property that had belonged to King Saul, his grandfather. After seven years, Absalom, David's son, conspired against his father, and David was obliged to fly from Jerusalem, with a few friends. As David was escaping, there came to him Ziba, a servant of Mephibosheth, with a couple of asses saddled, and upon them two hundred loaves of bread, and a hundred bunches of raisins, and an hundred of summer fruits, and a skin of wine. Then David asked Ziba what these were for, and Ziba answered that he had brought them to the king as a present, thinking he might need them in his flight. And the king asked after Mephibosheth; then Ziba said, "O! he is at home in Jerusalem, he said in my hearing, A good time is coming to me. To-day shall the house of Israel restore me the kingdom of my father." Now all this was a wicked lie. Mephibosheth had sent the present, and Ziba had promised to tell David why his master could not come with him, because he was crippled in both his feet, and could not get about. As for any idea of recovering the throne of Saul, it had not once entered his head. Now when David heard the slander of Ziba, he was very angry with Mephibosheth, and at once he judged him, and condemned him, without waiting to hear more, and said to Ziba, "Behold, I will give thee all that belonged to Mephibosheth, if ever I get back to Jerusalem and recover my power." Not long after there was a great battle, and Absalom was slain, and the enemies of David put to flight. Then David returned over Jordan from the wilderness where he had taken refuge, and Mephibosheth met him. This good man, full of love for David, "had neither dressed his feet, nor trimmed his beard, nor washed his clothes," all the time of David's absence, to shew his great grief. David at once reproached him for his disloyalty, and then only he heard how great a lie Ziba had told. Then David answered, "Why speakest thou any more of thy matters? I have said, Thou and Ziba divide the land." Mark the wicked injustice. The lying, slanderous servant is rewarded with half the property of poor Mephibosheth,--why?--because David had promised him the whole when misinformed. David knows that Ziba has acted falsely, yet, because he had said to him that he should be given the land of his master, he keeps his word to him, though he knows he is doing an injustice to Mephibosheth. There you have a pretty example of an obstinate man sticking to what he has said, after he is convinced that he has been misled, and doing a great wrong rather than acknowledge that he had judged rashly, and condemned on no good grounds. II. I can give you another example. King Herod was pleased with the dancing of the daughter of Herodias one evening at a supper, and he swore to her, when he was half tipsy, that he would give her what she liked in reward for her display. Then she asked him to cut off the head of S. John the Baptist, and give it her in a dish. Now, as soon as she asked this, the king was sorry, for he knew that S. John was a good man, and he knew also that he had no right to have a man murdered in prison to please the whim of a wicked woman; however, because he had passed his word, he was too proud and cowardly to go back from it, and refuse her what she had no right to ask. Then he sent an executioner, and he cut off the head of the saint, and put it in a dish, and it was brought thus to the girl, and she carried it to her mother. III. A man is right to stick to his word, if his word be right. He is right to stick to his promise, if he have promised that over which he has a just right. He is right to stick to his opinion if his opinion be founded on good grounds, and if he have heard nothing that ought to cause him to alter it. But--no man has any right to stick to his opinion simply because it is his opinion. He has no right to hold a promise which he had no right to make. He has no right to adhere to a harsh judgment simply because he has formed that judgment. When our Lord bids us not judge, He bids us be very cautious in forming a decided opinion, and in sticking to it through thick and thin. We know so little here, and so imperfectly, that our opinions must be formed on uncertain grounds, and therefore we have no right to be tenacious about them. Yet many persons are as touchy about their opinions as though it were a sacrilege to dispute them. Some of the greatest injustices have been done through obstinacy, in clinging to opinions that have become untenable. CONCLUSION.--Remember then the lessons taught you by our Lord in this day's Gospel, and also by the conduct of David. Be very cautious of forming a judgment, and when you have formed one, do not allow Pride to stand in the way of confessing your fault, and changing your opinion, when you are given reasonable grounds for so doing. XLII. _THE SECRET OF SUCCESS._ 5th Sunday after Trinity S. Luke v. 5. "We have taken nothing; nevertheless at Thy word, I will let down the net." INTRODUCTION.--S. Peter and the other Apostles had been fishing all night, and had met with no success at all, then Jesus entered into the boat of Simon, and bade him launch out and let down his net. S. Peter did not hesitate. He had met with no success when fishing in the night, nevertheless now, at the word of Christ, he fishes again, and this time the net encloses a great multitude, so that the net breaks. No doubt our Lord desired to show those who were to become fishers of men that there were two ways of doing a thing, and that one way would be successful and the other would not. If they were going to become fishers of men, they must try to catch them by carrying Christ, _i.e._ a Christlike spirit, with them, and the spirit of Christ is love and gentleness. If they were to be successful in winning souls, they must have a loving zeal, and that would gain more than hard work without love. SUBJECT.--We are all of us, in our several callings, fishers of souls. Of course, especially are the clergy fishers, but not they only, every man who loves God must seek to win souls for God, every man who is in the net of the Church must seek to draw others into the same net. If the fisher is to be successful, he must fish in the spirit of Christ, that is, actuated by love, and must deal gently with the souls he desires to gain. I. I say, we are all fishers. Those of us who are parents desire to draw to Christ the souls of our children, those who are masters, the souls of their servants. The husband seeks to win the wife, and the believing wife the husband. "What knowest thou, O wife," says S. Paul, "whether thou shalt save thy husband? or how knowest thou, O man, whether thou shalt save thy wife?" The servant seeks to win the fellow-servant, the labourer in the field has the welfare of his fellow-labourer at heart, and seeks to draw him to God. It was Cain who said, "Am I my brother's keeper?" And the same isolating, selfish spirit is in those who take no interest in those they associate with, and do not seek their good. I was much struck last spring with something a gentleman said to me, who had been a good deal in America; he was much surprised and struck with the interest felt in England by the rich for the poor, by the master and mistress for their servants, by the landowner for his tenants, and he said to me, "This seems to me the most marvellous thing I have seen in England. With us a master cares not one snap of the fingers what becomes of the man he employs, he no more thinks of what becomes of him than he does of a dollar that passes through his hands. He sees that he does his work, and if the man dies, the master gets another in his place to-morrow, and asks nothing about the man who has disappeared." Well! I thank God we are not come to that yet, however advanced we may be in our independent ways; and it is not right and Christian that we should. II. Now we come to the way in which we are to try to draw other souls to Christ, the souls of our children, of our servants, of our companions, of our fellow-workers. The first principle of success is gentleness. In the 4th chapter of the 2nd book of Kings we have this story. There was a Shunammite woman who had an only son. She was a good kind-hearted woman, who had shown much hospitality to the prophet Elijah [Transcriber's note: Elisha?]. One day the little boy ran out into the harvest field, when the sun was hot, and he had a sunstroke, and was very ill. "He said unto his father, My head, my head. And he said to a lad, Carry him to his mother. And when he had taken him and brought him to his mother, he sat on her knees till noon, and then he died. And she went up, and laid him on the bed of the man of God, and shut the door upon him, and went out." Then she ordered one of the servants to saddle an ass, and drive her to the prophet; and when she found him, she told him the piteous story, and how the poor little fellow whom she loved so dearly, and who was such a darling of his father, and such a pet of the old Elisha when he paid them his visits, was lying white and dead upstairs on the bed. Then Elisha was sorely troubled, and he gave his staff to his servant, Gehazi, and made him run as fast as he could to the house of the Shunammite. "Gird up thy loins, and take my staff in thine hand, and go thy way: if thou meet any man, salute him not; and if any salute thee, answer him not again; and lay my staff upon the face of the child." Gehazi obeyed, but it was of no use. "He laid the staff upon the face of the child: but there was neither voice, nor hearing." Then Elisha came himself, and he shut the door, and laid himself beside the little body, and put his lips to the lips of the child, and his warm loving heart against the little dead heart, and took the chill hands in his. Then the spirit of the child came back into him again, and he sat up, and Elisha delivered him alive to his mother. Now this story contains some lesson for us. And this is the short comment on the miracle by an old writer, "Him whom the rod of terror will not rouse, _love_ will." Or in other words, we may learn by this that gentleness will succeed where harshness will fail. In the time when all the north of England was heathen, there was an assembly held at Iona to decide who should preach the gospel to the English of Northumbria. Then one missionary was sent, and after having laboured for some years, he came back to give an account of his mission. And a council was held, and he said, "Those Northumbrians are a stiff-necked, hard-hearted people. I threatened them with God's wrath, I spoke to them of Hell-fire, I warned them of the terrors of judgment, I denounced the vengeance of God on them, and they would not be converted." Then one sitting in a bark seat said, "My brother, it seems to me that you went the wrong way to work. You should have gone in love, and not in wrath. You should have tried to win, and not to drive." All eyes were turned en the speaker, and it was decided with one voice that he should be sent, and he went. His name was Aidan--and he was the Apostle of all Northumberland, Durham, and Yorkshire. He had the joy to see the whole people bow their necks to receive the yoke of Christ. What says S. Paul? "What will ye? shall I come unto you with a rod, or in love, and in the spirit of meekness?" If he had come with the rod, he would have gone back disappointed. CONCLUSION.--Let us then, dear brethren, in dealing with the souls of others, approach them, not with the rod, or we shall fail to awake them to a new and better life, but in love, and in the spirit of gentleness, and then we shall meet, I doubt not, with good success. XLIII. _PERSISTENCY IN WRONG DOING._ 6th Sunday after Trinity. S. Matt. v. 25. "Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the way with him." INTRODUCTION.--I spoke to you the Sunday before last about the obstinacy of persisting in an opinion after you have good cause to believe that this opinion is unjust, or unreasonable. I am going to speak to you to-day of another form of obstinacy. SUBJECT.--My subject is Persistency in doing wrong, because you have begun wrong. This is only another form of the same fault. The other is thinking wrong persistently, this is perseverance in doing wrong. And the source of both is the same, Pride. Pride stands in the way of altering an erroneous opinion, and in the way of altering a wrongful course of action. I. In the tenth chapter of the second book of Samuel we have a striking story of the way in which a man having once done a wrong, persists in it, and it brings about his ruin. King David, when firmly established on his throne, began to look about him to see who had been kind to him in his day of adversity, and to reward, or thank them. He showed his gratitude to the memory of his friend Jonathan by investing his son Mephibosheth with his grandfather's property. Then he remembered that Nahash the King of Ammon had shown him hospitality, and he heard also that he was just dead. So David said, "I will show kindness unto Hanun the son of Nahash, as his father showed kindness unto me." And David sent to comfort him by the hand of his servants for his father. The message was kindly intended. David wished to show that he was not forgetful of past favours, that he was ready to make a lasting friendship with Hanun, and he desired to exhibit his sympathy with the son for the loss of his father. These were the three motives actuating David, all good. Now, how did Hanun act? One would naturally suppose that he would appreciate these motives, and that he would be glad, when scarce settled on his throne, to secure the powerful friendship of King David. No!--he was young, insolent, inconsiderate, and fond of practical joking,--a vulgar-minded fellow, puffed up with conceit at his elevation to power. Hanun took the servants, the ambassadors of David, and shaved off half their beards, and cut off the lower half of all their clothes, and sent them back to David. And when it was told unto David that his messengers had been thus ignominiously treated, "he sent to meet them, because the men were greatly ashamed, and said, Tarry at Jericho, until your beards be grown, and then return." As soon as Hanun and his Ammonites had done this, what was their next step?--As perhaps you are aware, by the laws of civilized and uncivilized people, the persons of ambassadors are held to be sacred. Therefore Hanun had not only done an insolent, and utterly blackguard trick, but he had gone against one of the first laws of nations. What he ought to have done, was at once to send to David a most humble apology, with an acknowledgment that he had acted wrongly. But he was too proud for this. He would not admit that he had erred. He at once sent and hired the Syrians of Beth-rehob, and the Syrians of Zoba, twenty thousand foot soldiers, and of King Maacah a thousand men, and of Ish-tob twelve thousand men, so that this malicious trick began to shew that it was an expensive one. Then David's army drew up in array against this army of Ammon and their hired allies, and at once, all the mercenaries ran away. So then there was nothing for it but for the Ammonites to return as quickly as possible within the walls of their city. Now, what should Hanun have done? It was clear that David was not eager to punish him, for he had not even sent his army against Ammon till Hanun had collected the great host against him, and as soon as the Ammonites, deserted by their auxiliaries, had retired within their walls, the army of David had not pressed them, but gone quietly back to Jerusalem. What then ought Hanun to have done? Of course, he should now have sent his apology, and said how wrongly he had acted, how ashamed of himself he was, and how desirous he was to have the past forgotten. But no, having done wrong once, his pride would not let him acknowledge it, and he went on. He now engaged Hadarezar, King of the Syrians, and this time there was a great battle, and David slew of the Syrians seven hundred chariots, and forty thousand horsemen, and smote the captain of their host, so that he was left dead on the field, and all the Syrians who could escape ran away for their lives. Then Hadarezer had had quite enough of fighting against Israel, and he made peace with David, and "So the Syrians feared to help the children of Ammon any more." Now the Ammonites were left completely without auxiliaries. What chance was there for them? Still David did not press them. A whole year passed, and he made no move. He was waiting for an apology. But no. That headstrong Hanun was still too proud to make it. He would die with all his people rather than say he had done wrong. So, at the end of a year, David sent his army against the Ammonites, and destroyed them utterly. He killed Hanun, and took away his crown, and plundered his capital town, and ruined all his cities. That was the end of one practical joke unapologised for. II. In the Gospel for to-day, our Lord warns against the same hard-headedness in persisting in refusing an apology, and to make up friendship that has been broken. "Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing." He urges Christians when they have done an injury to any, frankly to confess it, to put their pride in their pocket, and to ask forgiveness. It is not an easy thing to do, to acknowledge that you have done wrong, but there is more true courage in doing so, than in persevering in spite of the consequences, in wrong doing. Many a lasting and miserable quarrel has arisen because at the outset one little word has not been said, which would have made all things smooth. Two families become estranged and bitterly hostile, because some one has reported to the mother in one, that the mother in the other had made a disparaging remark about her. A little word, and all would be explained, and set to rights. "Let not the sun go down on your wrath," says the Apostle, and an excellent piece of advice this is:--Make up all quarrels the same day that they break out. There was a good old bishop of Alexandria called John the Almsgiver, and he and the Governor of the city were great friends. Something occurred which made a breach between them. If I remember aright, it was this. The bishop was very charitable, and was always urging the rich people to give to the poor, and they were constantly sending him money to distribute among the sick and needy. Now at this time the Governor had experienced some difficulty in raising the taxes, and this ruffled his temper. He was on a visit to the Bishop, when he saw on the stairs a number of servants of a rich lady bringing up, as a present to the bishop some pots, labelled "Virgin Honey." The Governor said he did not believe they were pots of honey, but pots of gold, and when the bishop offered to open them and let him see for himself, he dashed out of the door in a rage, and said, "No wonder I can't get money in taxes when you swindle it out of the people, to feed the beggars on honey." When the Governor was gone, the old Bishop was very troubled, and he sat in his room all the rest of the day, waiting for the Governor to come and make it up with him. But no! the Governor was fuming with anger and would do no such thing. That evening the Governor had a party, and as he was sitting at table with the guests, a little scrap of paper was put on his plate, a servant of the Bishop had brought it. The Governor took it up and saw, "Dear old Friend--THE SUN IS SETTING." Then his heart relented, he excused himself to his guests, and ran to the house of the Bishop, and they fell into one another's arms and made friends again. CONCLUSION.--Now remember this story. Whenever you have a quarrel with another, let not the sun go down on your wrath. Make it up before set of sun. XLIV. THE MEASURE OF SIN. 7th Sunday after Trinity. S. Mark viii. 2. "I have compassion on the multitude." INTRODUCTION.--In to-day's Gospel we see the tender compassion of our Lord for those who came into the wilderness to hear Him. This is only one example out of many of His great love and mercy: and indeed "His mercy is over all His works." "Thou, O Lord," says David, "art full of compassion and mercy, long-suffering and truth." This is a verity of which we are so convinced that it is quite possible we may overlook the other truth, that His mercy, though unlimited in extent, is limited in its application. His mercy is extended for a definite purpose, and when it ceases to avail for this purpose, then it ceases to flow. What that purpose is, S. Paul tells us. "Knowest thou not," he says, "that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance." That is, God is merciful that we may amend, not in order that we may continue in sin. Now, if men thought that when they had fallen into grievous sin there was no more a hope of recovery, then they would sink into despair, and become hard and impenitent. But that this may not be the case, God assures us of His mercy, but he assures us of His mercy only to insure our amendment. SUBJECT.--It seems plain from Holy Scripture that to each man there is a fixed measure of sin, and that if he fills that measure, after that there is no place for repentance, and no more pardon. This is a very terrible truth,--but a truth it is, as I shall show you. I. There was a nation of Canaan called the Amorites, and God promised to Abraham that He would give their land to his descendants, but that He could not give it yet without injustice. The land was in the possession of the Amorites, a people on their trial, and till the day of their probation was expired, their kingdom could not be taken from them. "In the fourth generation," God said, "thy seed shall come hither, for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet full." Now actually it was not till four hundred and seventy years later that the destruction of the Amorites was accomplished. Four generations after Abraham, that is some two hundred and forty years after, the measure of their iniquities was full, and yet they existed on till Joshua crossed Jordan with the Israelites, and then they were all put to the sword. In the New Testament we hear the Jews addressed as though they also had a measure of sin they must fill up before God would forsake them. Our Lord says to them, "Ye are the children of them which killed the prophets. Fill ye up then the measure of your fathers. Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of Hell? Behold I send unto you prophets, and wise-men, and scribes: and some of them ye shall kill and crucify: and persecute them from city to city: that upon you may come all the righteous blood shed upon the earth, from the blood of righteous Abel unto the blood of Zacharias, son of Barachias, whom ye slew between the temple and the altar." The Jewish nation had done great wickedness, but the measure of their iniquities was not full till they had rejected Christ, and had refused to listen to His Apostles, and the Holy Ghost speaking through their mouths. Till then He would not cast them off entirely. II. David prays to God, "Lord, let me know the number of my days, that I may be certified how long I have to live." No doubt, God has fixed for all men a certain length of life. No doubt also He has set for each a certain limit of forbearance; a line, an invisible line drawn somewhere, and He says to man, Thus far mayest thou go, and I will still be merciful and pardon, but no further. Transgress that line, and I forgive no more. My Spirit will not always strive with man. In those cases which I have quoted to you, God is dealing with nations, but He deals with individuals in the same way. His laws are uniform; as He deals with an assemblage of people, so He deals with single individuals. If He fixes a bound to nations, beyond which they cannot go without His forsaking them, it is because there is the law, which is of general application to all human beings; a law applying to single persons, and to persons in the aggregate. In the Prophet Amos we read a message from God to Judah, "Thus saith the Lord: For three transgressions of Judah, and for four, I will not turn away the punishment thereof." This means, if I mistake not, Judah has committed some two or three gross sins, and I was ready to turn away the punishment, had there been a sign of repentance, but when to the three they added a fourth, then it was too late. The time of repentance was past, and the punishment threatened must fall. And now perhaps you can understand a saying of S. John in his first Epistle. He says:--"If any man see his brother sin a sin which is not unto death, he shall ask, and he shall give him life for them that sin not unto death. There is a sin unto death, I do not say that he shall pray for it." S. John is not speaking here of what we call mortal sins, but of mortal sins continued till the measure is filled up, and when the last sin has been added which completes the measure, that is the sin unto death, which it avails nothing to pray for, for that sin ends in death. Before, there was life, spiritual life, perhaps flickering, but extant, then comes the last sin, and the life is gone out, all is dark, and dead, and cold, no more fanning of the black ashes is of any avail, the fire is out and cannot be revived. III. How does God deal with those who have gone beyond this measure? In one of two ways. Either:-- 1. There comes a sudden call,--a sudden death-sickness or accident cuts them off. Or:-- 2. Dead impenitence settles over the soul, which no longer wishes for anything better, which feels no desire for pardon. Of the first case, we have instances in Scripture. King Belshazzar had committed many transgressions, he was weighed in the balances, but still found wanting in the final and irreversible act of wickedness, till that night when he brought out the sacred vessels used in the temple to drink out of them at his riotous banquet in his palace. That act of sacrilege was the one sin which weighed down the balance. What says the sacred text? "In that night was Belshazzar the King of the Chaldeans slain." I may instance also Judas, who having for long been a thief, added to his former sins the one last and terrible sin of selling his Master, and then a fit of madness came over him in which he hung himself. But sometimes hardness and impenitence is the result. The conscience is dead, and, to use S. Paul's words, "there remains no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries." CONCLUSION.--Let us, therefore, be very cautious of adding sin to sin, that grace may abound, but rather fly from it as from the face of a serpent. We know not what is the number of our days determined by God, and we know not what is the number of our sins beyond which there is no forgiveness. XLV. _CASTING BLAME._ 8th Sunday after Trinity. S. Matt. vii. 15. "Inwardly they are ravening wolves." INTRODUCTION.--A Schoolmaster finds one day that several of his scholars are playing truant. The morning passes and they do not arrive. At last, in the afternoon, the truants turn up. The master has a strong suspicion where they have been: however, he asks, "Why were you not at school this morning?" "Please, sir, mother kept me at home to mind the baby." "Indeed--let me look at your mouth." He opens the mouth, and finds it black inside. "Ah! I thought as much, rambling in the woods, picking and eating whortleberries." So with the others, they make their excuses, but he looks into their mouths, and the black colour betrays them. Now, my friends, I am almost afraid to look in your mouths, lest I should see them black, not with whortleberries, but with something much sweeter, blame and fault-finding. You are, I suspect, all of you nearly fond of abusing your neighbours, of finding fault, of telling unkind things of them, of blackening their good names. SUBJECT.--I am going to take as my subject to-day the Casting of Blame. I. "Be ye merciful," said our Lord, "even as your Father which is in heaven is merciful." He did not mean only in our dealings with others, to be merciful to their bodies, and merciful in not exacting debts, and merciful in not punishing neglect, and so forth, but He meant also that we were to be merciful with their characters. We are not to be ready to impute evil, not ready to cast blame, not ready to believe hard things of others and retail them to our neighbours, but to be very slow to suspect evil, very slow to charge it on others, and exceedingly slow to say what is evil of others. "Charity," says S. Paul, "is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things." It seems to me, that charity is the exact reverse of this fault-finding, blame-imputing character. "Charity thinketh no evil," but how is it with you? Do you not always suspect that the motives of people are bad, do you not always think people are worse than they really are? "Charity rejoiceth not in iniquity." Ha! there is a bit of scandal, something very bad has come out about So and so. What a running about from house to house! the village is like a hive of bees swarming. Do you mean to tell me it is not a delight, a joy to you, to have this little bit of iniquity to talk about? I know better. "Charity rejoiceth not in iniquity," but charity is not to be found in that tittle-tattling, excited crowd of talkers. "Charity believeth all things"--will, that is, believe and trust, as long as it is possible, that people are not so bad after all, that the stories told are not true, and "Charity hopeth all things," hopes even against hope that it is so. O! what a blessed thing is charity! S. Paul said he would rather have that, than be able to speak with tongues, and to prophesy; he would rather have that than work miracles. It is a better thing even to have that than Faith. But, alas! if it be such a good thing, it is also a very rare one. II. How very often we cast blame when there is no cause, and are therefore guilty of serious injustice. I was one day walking in the street of a little town, when a poor inoffensive dog passed me. He went quietly along without a thought of doing anyone an injury, when he happened to pass a knot of boys just come out of school. At once one of the urchins took up a stone and threw it at him, the others clapped their hands, and hooted after him, "Hit him! Knock him over! Mad dog!" Away ran the unhappy cur, and all the boys yelling after him, throwing dirt, and striking at him with sticks. What next? Everyone in the street ran to the door, and saw the brute tearing down the way, with his tail between his legs. Then out of every door rushed all the house-dogs, the butcher's dog, and the coach-dog, and even the little lap-dog jumped up, and ran down stairs, and out of the door, to join in the barking, and away went all the dogs of the place after the poor wretch. There was a tumult! And the people in their doors and at their windows shouted, and one said, "Kill him! he is mad!" and another, "He has bitten a woman!" and another, "He has stolen some meat!" and another, "He has knocked over a child!" Now all this arose from one boy throwing a stone at a harmless dog. And all the things said about the dog were untrue. The proverb was verified, "Give a dog a bad name, and you may hang him." Is not this very much like what takes place among men? Someone throws blame on a poor harmless person for no cause in the world but out of sheer malevolence, or love of mischief, and at once others join in. Everyone has something to say, everyone joins in the general abuse. No lack of blame. No lack of unkind things said. And--all untrue, all unjust! I do not mean to say that when a person has done what is wrong we are not to speak of it at all; but what I do say is, that we should be very careful indeed not to cast blame till we are quite sure that we are justified in doing so. "As for this way, we know that it is everywhere spoken against," was what was said of Christianity. All sorts of bad, lying things were said of the early Christians, that they killed and ate children, that they practised horrible idolatries: the stories were not true, but they were believed, simply because everyone said these things were done. III. Now this is the advice I give you:-- _a_. Be sure that blame is just before you cast it. _b_. Be merciful in attributing blame even when it is deserved. First:--Be sure that you have real cause to cast blame, be sure that you are not committing a great injustice, and doing another a grievous injury which is unmerited. "Do to others as you would they should do to you." Consider how miserable you would feel were you the subject of unmerited blame. Secondly:--Be merciful in attributing blame even when it is deserved. Remember that you yourself are not guiltless. There are things that you have done which deserve censure quite as much as those things you blame in others. One day a woman, taken in adultery, was brought before Christ, and the Jews desired to stone her to death because of her sin. Then our Lord said, "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." And when they heard it, being convicted by their own consciences, they went out, one by one, beginning at the eldest even unto the last. I say to you: when you are inclined to cast blame, even when just, think, "Am I without sin, that I should judge and condemn another?" XLVI. _PETTY DISHONESTY._ 9th Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke xvi, 3, 4. "What shall I do?--I am resolved what to do." INTRODUCTION.--The dishonest Steward in to-day's Gospel shows us the natural tendency of the human heart when in a scrape--to have recourse to dishonesty to escape from it. He knows that he is about to be turned out of his stewardship because he has been wasteful--not dishonest, but wasteful. He has not been a prudent and saving steward, but a sort of happy-go-lucky man who has not kept the accounts carefully, and has been content so long as he has not lost much money. So soon as he sees himself about to be turned out of his stewardship, he is wakened out of his easy-going ways with a shock, and he says to himself, "Here am I in a predicament! I shall lose my livelihood, and am not likely to get another situation; I am too old to work with my hands for my living, and I have too much self-respect to try. What can I do?--I am resolved what to do. I will cheat my master." SUBJECT.--I believe that a very similar process goes on now-a-days in a great many hearts. Bad times come. What is to be done? There is nothing for it but to be just a little bit dishonest. Honesty won't pay. So the manufacturer weaves bad silk, and makes shoddy cloth, and the wine-merchant doctors his wine, and the brewer his ale, and the milkman puts water into his milk, and the butterman sells butter made of Thames mud, and the calico is dressed with chalk, and the ready-made clothes come to pieces because the thread's ends are not fastened, and the farm work is half done, and the whole trade and commerce of the country is one great system of adulteration and petty cheating. I. Abraham was a very scrupulous man. In all his dealings he was perfectly just and honourable. Once five kings came into the valley of the Jordan, and made a sudden onslaught on the towns there; they carried away all the goods of Sodom and Gomorrah, and thoroughly sacked the cities. They did not only that, but they carried off as well a great number of the inhabitants as captives. Then Abraham lent his servants to the king of Sodom to help him to recover the booty and liberate the captives, and there was a battle, the result of which was that the five kings were defeated, and all the spoil and the prisoners recovered. Then the King of Sodom offered Abraham the booty in repayment for his valuable services. He said, "Give me the persons, and take the goods to thyself." But Abraham answered, "No! I will not take from a thread even to a shoe-latchet, and I will not take any thing that is thine, lest thou shouldest say, I have made Abraham rich." Now, this was just an occasion when he might have fairly claimed remuneration from the recovered plunder, but no! he was far too scrupulous. He knew of what that plunder consisted--it was made up of the household goods of the inhabitants of the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah; of all the sticks of furniture, and clothes, and crockery, and household ornaments that the people valued. He would not deprive them of one, lest they should think that Abraham had enriched himself at their expense. He puts an extreme case,--lest some poor woman should lament that she had lost all her thread wherewith to mend her torn clothes, and say, "Ah! I had plenty of thread once, but Abraham has it now," or another should say, "I have no buckle to my shoe, Abraham has taken of the spoil, and my shoe-buckle he has got now." Well, now listen to what follows immediately. This upright conduct of Abraham so pleased God, that we read, "After these things the word of the Lord came unto Abraham in a vision, saying, Fear not, Abraham: I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward." How many are there now who act like Abraham? How many who fear lest it should be said of them that they had been enriched by those whose money they had no right to take? There would be fewer failing banks, and the little stores of widows and orphans swallowed up, were the bankers more of the mind of Abraham. There would be fewer swindling speculations swallowing up the savings of the thrifty, if men shrank from taking that which is not lawfully and fairly their own. II. All purchases, and all agreements for labour, are contracts. The purchaser asks for one thing, and of that thing a certain amount, and if for his money he is given another thing, or a smaller amount than that for which he has paid, then there is dishonesty. If you went to a shop and asked for a pound of tea, and were given something which was not tea, or tea which weighed less than a pound, you would be dealt with dishonestly. So if you go into another shop to buy flannel, and purchase three yards, and then when you come home and measure it, you find that it is six inches short, you would have been dealt with dishonestly. In both cases you would be exceedingly angry with the traders, and justly so. But consider, do you always act justly with your employers? When you are hired for a day's work, do you give good work? And is the time just measure? Or is there much idling and talking when you are unobserved? Let there be honour and fairness all round. How would you like to be paid in clipped coin, that was not full weight? And yet you have no scruple in giving clipped time, and work in short weight. I speak plainly about this, for it is a crying evil of the day. There is everywhere apparent a lack of conscientiousness in the dealings of man with man. We used to do a large trade with our manufactures in Europe and the East, and now we have to a large extent lost it--because we have sent out bad material and sold it as good. It is a common complaint that men do not work now as well as of old in every department of industry. They rob their masters of time and labour, which they have contracted to give. Then the masters say, "What shall we do?--we are resolved what we will do, we will make up the loss by adulteration of our goods." Then purchasers discover this and refuse to buy, so the trade of the country declines. III. Remember, then, in all your transactions, how Abraham dealt with the King of Sodom, and how God rewarded him for his honesty, and you may be very sure that God will not overlook you if you deal with others faithfully. The eye of God is over all, and He sees whether you fulfil your obligations honestly or not, and He will certainly bless abundantly those who recognise His presence. S. Paul bids all who serve others--we all do that in one way or another--do their duty, not with eye-service, as men-pleasers, but as though they were working for Christ, not as if they were doing the will of man, but the will of God, from the heart, "Knowing that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the same shall he receive of the Lord." XLVII. _THE CONSEQUENCES OF SIN._ 10th Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke xix, 42. "If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes." INTRODUCTION.--I spoke to you the other day about the measure of sin, and showed you that there was a certain limit allotted to every man, beyond which he could not go and still expect forgiveness, a point in the downward course at which the Holy Spirit will cease to strive to hold him back. We see in this day's Gospel that there is also a Day of Grace, a period, that is, during which God is ready to give pardon and strength and guidance, and that if this Day of Grace be wasted, then those things belonging to our eternal peace which were offered are withdrawn, or hidden from the eyes. This is, in fact, the same thing as what I said about the measure of sin; after a time of sin and neglect, the opportunity for redeeming the past is lost beyond recall, and that time is measured out by the amount of the transgressions of the person or the people with whom God is dealing. SUBJECT.--I am not, however, going to speak to you again on this subject from another aspect, but of sin itself, and the consequences it brings. Those consequences we overlook. We believe that God for Christ's sake pardons sin and wipes away transgressions, but we forget altogether that He does not deliver us from the consequences of sin, or, at least, not from all of them. I. Sin is the transgression of God's commandment. And it entails three consequences. 1. It separates from God. 2. It entails punishment. 3. It leaves a stain. God has given His Commandments for the good of men. They are the maxims by which they must rule their conduct, in order that the world may go on in peace and orderliness, and that they may remain in communion with Him. Sin is the violation of this law, the break-up of order, the disturbance of peace, and the interruption of communion. II. _It separates from God_. When mortal sin has been committed, the flow of divine grace is arrested, just as when something gets into a pipe it chokes it, so that the stream of water can no longer run till the stoppage is removed. Thus the presence of mortal sin in the conscience at once cuts off from the favour of God, and prevents growth in the spiritual life. The sinner is guilty in the sight of God, and if he die in unpardoned deadly sin, stands in great danger of being lost. Now, here it is that Christ intervenes. He reconciles the sinner to the Father, and He takes away the barrier which separates them. He removes the stoppage which interferes with the flow of Grace. In one word, He removes the guilt. That is the work of the Atonement. For this Christ died. But for the Cross of Calvary, man, once alienated from God by sin, must remain in alienation. "Christ," says S. Paul, "having made peace through the blood of the Cross, hath reconciled all things unto Himself. And you, that were sometimes alienated and enemies in your mind by wicked works, now hath He reconciled in the body of His flesh through death, to present you holy and unblameable and unreproveable in God's sight." _It entails suffering_. God's law is that all sin must be punished--that is, where there is transgression, suffering must follow. When a man squanders his fortune by extravagance, he may bitterly repent, but he continues to suffer for his folly. When a man has got drunk, he may be full of sorrow for what he has done, but he has a headache next day all the same. When a woman has lost her character, she may weep tears of bitter repentance, and God may pardon her as He pardoned Magdalen, but she can never recover her character, and must suffer the consequences of her act. In this world or in the next, all sin must be expiated by suffering. Christ by His death removed the guilt of sin, but not the suffering for sin. S. Peter bids us remember that suffering remains a consequence, for he exhorts us, "Forasmuch as Christ hath suffered for us in the flesh, arm yourselves likewise with the same mind: for he that hath suffered in the flesh hath ceased from sin." That is, the sin is wholly expiated only when the suffering it brings after it has been undergone. _It leaves a stain or scar_. No man is the same after sinning as he was before. The sin may be forgiven and suffered for, but the scar remains on his soul. The soul as it leaves the hand of God is white and innocent, in its passage through life it meets with many self-inflicted wounds, these wounds of the soul are sin. Thus it suffers till the wound is healed, and the medicine of the soul is the blood of Christ. The blood heals, but the scar remains. The soul, as seen by God and angels, is marked all over with the traces of the sins which have torn it. The baptized child is given a robe of innocence white as snow. Every sin is a stain upon it, and if you could see now, as angels see, your baptismal garment, you would find it spotted and smeared all over. Suppose I were to take this surplice and splash it over with ink, I might with much labour take out the ink stains, but never so entirely cleanse it that no trace remains. Or I might walk in it through the bushes, and get it torn with the thorns and brambles. Then all the rents might be carefully darned up, but--the surplice would never look as sound and beautiful as when new. This is precisely like the state of the soul after sin, it is torn and stained, and although the sins may be forgiven, and the stains washed, and the rents healed, yet to the end of life the marks remain of where they have been, the effects are uneffaced. III. Now what are some of these effects? In the first place, every sin weakens the soul. It takes from it not only its innocence, but its power of resistance. Just as a wound weakens you by the loss of blood, so a sin weakens you by loss of resisting power. You are not so strong to fight against evil after sinning as you were before. In the second place, you have become more careless and even hardened about sin than you were before. When you have a new coat or gown, you are very careful of it that it be not spotted and torn, but once it loses its first newness, you are not so particular, and the more spotted and torn it becomes, the less you care for the injuries done it, you say, "It is an old dress and very much used, another stain or patch does not matter." So with the soul, when you have become accustomed to sinning, you no longer dread sin. CONCLUSION.--And now remember, in this thy day, the things that belong to thy peace, and dread sin for its consequences, lest by over much confidence you may exceed your measure, and then the chance of recovery will be gone from you for ever. XLVIII. _SELF-INSPECTION._ 11th Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke xviii., 13. "The Publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God, be merciful to me a sinner." INTRODUCTION.--I have spoken to you on former occasions pretty strongly upon the evil of backbiting, slandering, and casting of blame without sufficient cause. I am not going to address this day those who speak evil, but those of whom evil is spoken. The Publican in the Parable stood far from the Pharisee, who had no good word for him, even in his prayer, and he took a great deal of blame to heart, and prayed to God for mercy on him for his shortcomings. No doubt the Publican was well aware in what estimation he was held by the people, and how utterly he was despised by the Pharisee. The Publican was the tax-gatherer, and as the tax-gatherers in those days were often hard men, and exacted more than was due to the State, that they might pocket the difference, the general opinion was that they were all of them dishonest men, and men without hearts. This was not true, we know, of this Publican, nor of Zacchaeus, nor of Levi, who are commended in the Gospel. Perhaps this Publican who was praying, saw the Pharisee cast a contemptuous glance at him, perhaps he even heard the words of his prayer, but if so, he made no attempt at justifying himself. His prayer was not, "God, I am not what other men say of me, unjust, hard-hearted, peculating, exacting: on the contrary, I am strictly honest in my dealings, and I am very forbearing and tender-hearted, and I do not press for payment when no money is to be got." No! nothing of the sort! all he says is--"God, be merciful to me, a sinner." SUBJECT.--I would have those who are blamed by others, instead of manifesting great eagerness to excuse themselves, and clamouring against those who speak against them, look into their own hearts and lives, and see if there be not something blameworthy there. I. King Philip of Macedon was informed by some of his courtiers that one of his officers, Nicanor by name, was always speaking evil of him, that wherever Nicanor was, there he did nothing but grumble against the king, and disparage and blame him. What was to be done? Should he be arrested and thrown into prison. "No!" said King Philip, "Before punishing Nicanor, I must look and see whether I have not given occasion for this abuse of me." Then the king thought things over, and it occurred to him for the first time that he had not rewarded Nicanor for some signal services he had rendered him. By some oversight no notice had been taken of Nicanor, though he had risked his life for the king. Then Philip sent for him, and gave him a good appointment, which brought him in a handsome income, and was one of great honour. Some while after, Philip said to his courtiers, "How does Nicanor speak of me now?" They answered that he was never weary of praising the king. Then Philip said, "Do you not see? it lies in ourselves whether we are well or evil spoken of." It is seldom indeed that you will escape blame, that evil of some sort will not be spoken about you. When that is the case, remember what Philip said, "I must look and see whether I have not given occasion." Always go to your own heart, always examine your own life, and see whether, after all, there be not something there which is wrong or unwise, and which may be altered, so as to cut off occasion from evil speakers. As the proverb says, "There is no smoke without a fire," and it is not often that blame is cast without there being some cause for it. It may be attributed unjustly, but it is sometimes just, though excessive. Everything casts a shadow, and if you see a shadow you may be sure there is some body to cast it, though the shape and size of the shadow may be wholly unlike and out of proportion to the object which throws it. A tree casts a shadow, a house casts a shadow, a needle casts a shadow, even a hair--where the shadow is, there is some substance to fling it; where great blame is cast, there is some occasion for it. You may have stood on a rock, and seen your shadow thrown all down a valley and up the side of an opposite hill, an enormous figure, and a ridiculous caricature of yourself. So the blame cast on you is often excessive and altogether unreasonable and monstrous. Nevertheless it would never be cast at all unless there were some little fault to cast it. Stick up a pin on a table when the sun is low, and it will throw a shadow from one end of the table to the other, four feet long, and the pin is only an inch in height. So is it with faults: little faults throw long shadows, cause great talk, but there would be no talk at all if the little faults were not there. II. What then is it that you should do? Examine yourselves whenever you are blamed, and do your utmost to correct what is amiss in you. "Blessed are ye," said our Lord, "when men shall revile you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely." Why? Why when falsely? Because it will make you all the more watchful that you give no offence, that you avoid even the appearance of evil. Blessed are ye when men revile you, and say all manner of evil against you, for then you will examine yourselves, and if you see there is any ground whatever for what they say, you will amend your ways; and blessed are ye when they speak evil against you falsely, for then, though their blame be exaggerated and lying, yet it will make you infinitely more particular to live a blameless life, and to have a conscience void of offence toward God and men. CONCLUSION.--If you do not use for your self-correction any blame you may undergo, then you may be sure that more and more will attach to you. You may surmount one calumny, but others will follow at its heels. In Revelation we hear that an angel cried, "One woe is past; and behold there come two woes more hereafter." So will it be with you, if the first woe does not profit you to make you better. If the plague of stinging, tormenting insects had made Pharaoh better, and amend his ways, the other plagues would not have fallen upon him. Thus, when you are tormented by evil tongues and spiteful words, if you do not strive your utmost to live better lives, and undo any wrong you may have committed, though the first woe may be past: behold, there will come two more woes hereafter. XLIX. _PERFECTION TO BE SOUGHT._ 12th Sunday after Trinity. S. Mark vii., 37. "He hath done all things well." INTRODUCTION.--It was said by an old heathen writer that God cares for Adverbs rather than for Substantives. That is to say, God had rather have things done _well_, than that the things should be merely done. He had rather have you pray earnestly than pray, communicate piously than merely communicate, forgive your enemies heartily than say you forgive, work diligently than spend so many hours at work, do your duty thoroughly than solely be content with discharging your duty. Of Christ, observe what is said. It is not "He hath opened the eyes of the blind, He hath unstopped the ears of the deaf. He hath loosed the tongue of the dumb, He hath healed the sick," but--"He hath done all things well." The eyes do not become dull again, nor the ears again lose their power of hearing, nor the tongue stutter once more, nor the sick relapse into their sickness--what He hath done He hath done well and thoroughly. SUBJECT.--This, then, is what God desires of you--whatever you undertake, to do it well. Whatsoever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might. If a thing is worth doing at all, it is worth doing well. It is not sufficient for us to coldly perform our duties, we must perform them with zeal and thoroughness. The prophet Amos was one day shown a vision. "Behold, the Lord stood upon a wall made by a plumbline, with a plumbline in His hand. And the Lord said unto me, Amos, what seest thou? And I said, A plumbline. Then said the Lord, Behold, I will set a plumbline in the midst of my people Israel; I will not again pass by them any more." In this vision we have the work of God, as carried out by the Israelites, represented under the form of a wall. God had given them certain duties to perform, so much work in this world to be done for Him, and He left them to themselves for a while. Then they thought, "God is not here, He is not a hard overseer, we will work as we like, and take it easy. So long as the thing is done, it does not matter very much how it is done." So they did every thing in a careless, slovenly manner. They neglected their duties or carried them out in a bare formal manner. If we come back to the comparison of a wall, it was just as though masons engaged on one put in any sort of stones, any how, and did not trouble whether they built it in line and upright, whether some of the stones stuck too far out, and some were too far in. Then God appears to Amos and says, "I will not again pass by them any more; there has been too much of this sort of work. I will not overlook it, I will try it with the plumbline of My justice, and the bad work shall be pulled down, the jutting stones knocked away, and the crooked wall made straight." This vision applies to you quite as much as to the Jews. You have got a set task: you have to build up the wall of the Lord, that is, day by day you have to work at your salvation, and put in at least one stone so as to raise the work, and what you build must be good, and upright, and in line. You have a prayer to say, say it well, say it with devotion. Then it is a stone put on the wall in its right place, and it is a good stone of the right quality. You have quarrelled with a neighbour, you have made it up, heartily and bear no more malice, that is a good stone;--forgiveness of injuries--a capital stone that won't let the water through. Lay it level, and lay it upright. You have a chance of showing a kindness to someone who needs, do it quietly and without fuss or show. That will stand. It was otherwise with the Pharisees. When they did their alms, they made a noise and called attention to it. That was like putting a stone in the wall that stuck a long way out, so that all might see it. When the Lord comes with His plumbline, He will knock it off with His trowel, and it will go all to pieces like a bit of slate, and be no good at all. You come to church, and you take my sermon home. What will you do with it? Toss it away on your road home, and make no use at all of it? I hope not; build the lesson I am giving you tight into your lives, and it will raise your wall, and you can lay other good lessons on top of it. What do you do with your Sunday? Is it wasted in lounging about, ferreting rabbits, idle talking? If it be so, then it will add nothing to the wall of your salvation. It will be like a mere lump of earth put in where there should have been a stone; it will wash out and leave a hole. Now remember that our great architect, Jesus Christ, is the man with the plumbline, and He will go over all our work and try how it is done, and whether it is upright and likely to stand. II. S. Paul gives another help to us to understand the parable of the wall. He says that we are building the wall of our salvation on the cornerstone of Christ, and he goes on to say, "Now if any man build upon this foundation, gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble: every man's work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is. If any man's work abide which he hath built thereon, he shall receive a reward." S. Paul, you see, says that the wall will be proved with fire, that is, that God will try all men's work and see of what sort it is--good, moderate, or worthless. The worthless will disappear in the judgment, the moderate will be seen in its faulty condition, but the good will last for ever. CONCLUSION.--Try, then, to look upon your life as a time of building up the work of your salvation, and at every day as contributing something towards it. Ask yourself each day, What have I done to-day towards this work set me? And if I have done anything towards it, how has it been done? Moreover, try to do all things well, to be zealous and thorough in every thing you undertake. Also, offer all you do to God, and ask Him to prove it, and to cut off from it all that is faulty, and to enable you to do better in time to come. When Nehemiah had rebuilt the wall of Jerusalem, and restored much that was cast down, and put right many abuses, he prayed, "Remember me, O my God, concerning this, and wipe not out my good deeds that I have done." Let this also be your prayer, that He may look on all you do for Him and bless it, and remember it for good, in the day when He tries every man's work of what sort it is. L. _ZEAL._ 13th Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke x., 23. "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" INTRODUCTION.--The Kingdom of Heaven, said our Lord, is like unto a treasure hid in a field. One day a man is turning over the stones which lie in a heap in a corner of the field, and he finds under them an iron chest, and this chest he believes to be full of gold. Then he carefully covers it up again with stones and earth, and goes off in the greatest excitement to the owner of the field, and offers him a price, and when that is refused he sells his house, and garden, and everything he can turn into money, and gives that to the owner in exchange for the field. I fear this is rather a picture of what ought to be than what is. No doubt whatever that we ought to show just as great eagerness to gain the Kingdom of Heaven, as did that man to buy the field. No doubt we ought to be just as eager to cast away everything that stands in the way, to divest ourselves of every thing we have, in order that we may gain the Kingdom of Heaven,--but, as a matter of fact, we show very little eagerness about it, and we are very indifferent whether we gain it or lose it. SUBJECT.--What we need is more zeal, more enthusiasm, more earnestness in our quest. I. King Solomon built the Temple at Jerusalem. He was engaged on it seven years, and after that, he built his own house, and on that he spent thirteen years. He therefore spent very nearly twice as much time and labour, and I doubt not, money over his own house than he did over the work of God's house; he was wise and good, and he did a great deal for God, but he did more for himself, and not only for himself, but for his wives, since he built for them as well. It is just so with us, we are ready to do something of God's work, to seek a little the Kingdom of Heaven, but we do not put our heart in that work, all our heart and zeal is reserved for our own worldly affairs and our temporal interests. One day a heathen maiden came to the princess Pulcheria, sister of the Emperor Theodosius, to complain to her that she was an orphan, and that her two brothers had turned her out of the house on her father's death, and had taken all his inheritance to themselves. Now the Emperor Theodosius, brother of Pulcheria, a young man, was behind a curtain, and heard the girl pleading her cause with many tears, and he saw how beautiful she was, and he loved her, and resolved to make her his wife and exalt her to be Empress of the East. Pulcheria bade her come another day, and then she told the maiden what was intended. After that she was taught the faith of Christ, and was baptized, and is known in history as the Empress Eudoxia. Now when she came from her baptism, Pulcheria noticed that she was crying, and she went to her lovingly and said, "Why are you bathed in tears, Eudoxia?" And then the young girl answered, "When you told me that I was to become the wife of Theodosius, and Empress of the East, my heart was like to burst with joy, but now that I have been made a member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the Kingdom of Heaven, I feel no such exceeding joy, but take it all without any emotion,--and I am grieved at my coldness and want of faith. That is why I am crying." Is it not very much the same with us? Anything that concerns our earthly welfare fills us with excitement, but we trouble ourselves very little about our spiritual concerns. If we have a chance of getting 50 pounds a-year, we are full of delight, but we receive the precious gift of God without even gratefulness. If we knew that an inheritance of a thousand pounds was ours if we applied for it, should we not apply? But when it comes to our approaching the altar of God to receive the Bread of Heaven, the priceless gift of the Body of our Lord, which will infuse into our mortal flesh the germ of immortality, we turn listlessly away. If we had an acquaintance who, we thought, could put us into a good way of making our fortune, we would be always at his heels, but we are cold and careless about seeking God in His house, and in prayer, and yet our eternal welfare depends on our retaining His favour. II. Now, this is not a satisfactory condition to be in. "The Kingdom of Heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by storm," said our Lord, and He meant that if Heaven is to be won, it must be won by those who are in earnest, and vehement in their desire to get it. Half-hearted soldiers are not good soldiers. Half-hearted servants are poor servants, half-hearted workers are unsatisfactory workers, and the battle we have to fight is a hard one, it is a battle against flesh and blood, against Satan and all his host, against the world, and against our own wills. Is such a battle to be won when we go into it without any desire to be conquerors? We are servants of God, and given a work in this world to do. Are we likely to do it if half-hearted? Are we likely to keep His commandments, if we care just a little to please Him, but only a little? Are we likely to win our wage, Eternal Life, if we do not work zealously, but waste the time of work in half-hearted trifling with our task? No, we must be in earnest. We want zeal. How are we to acquire this? This is what the Holy Ghost gives. Before Pentecost the disciples were half-hearted, and when temptation and trial came, they fell away and did not follow their Master. But after the Holy Ghost came down, then they were of one heart and mind, and their souls were inflamed with zeal, they cared nothing what became of them, so long as they won the Kingdom of Heaven. "I count all things as dung," said S. Paul, "if so be I may win Christ." III. The Holy Ghost is still in the Church, and still His mission is to impart zeal. He will come to you, if you pray, and will inflame you with that fire which will make your hearts burn within you, and give you no rest till you have set about the work appointed you by God. "I am come," said Christ, "to send fire on the earth: and what will I, if it be already kindled?" That fire is the fire of zeal; and it is for that fire we pray in the Whitsuntide hymn, "Come Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, And lighten with celestial fire." LI. _GRATITUDE._ 14th Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke xvii. 18. "There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger." INTRODUCTION,--There is nothing that the merciful God desires more from man than thanks, and there is nothing of which He receives less. In the Gospel for to-day we have an example. Christ performs a notable miracle. He heals ten lepers, and only one returns to thank Him. The disease from which He delivered them was disgusting, and it was one which cut the sufferers off from association with other men. They might not approach, under penalty of death, a man who was sound. All at once they are healed. The disgusting disease is removed, and they are restored to the society of their fellow-men. Yet nine out of the ten are ungrateful, they do not take the trouble to give thanks to Him who had healed them. SUBJECT.--That story is repeated over and over again. We are incessantly receiving blessings from God, and nine to one, but we do not thank Him: we take them as a matter of course. However, God expects thanks. S. Paul exhorts us, "In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." And again, "Give thanks always, for all things, unto God and the Father, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." And again, "Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by Him." I. When the children of Israel reached the river Jordan, on their way into the Promised Land, out of the wilderness in which they had wandered forty years, Joshua bade the priests that bare the ark go down into the river. And as soon as their feet were dipped in the water, the river was divided, "The waters which came down from above stood and rose up upon an heap; and those that came down towards the sea of the plain failed, and were cut off, and the people passed over right against Jericho. And the priests that bare the ark of the covenant of the Lord, stood firm on dry ground in the midst of Jordan, and all the Israelites passed over on dry ground, until all the people were passed clean over Jordan." Now when this had taken place, Joshua ordered twelve men, one out of every tribe, to go down into the river, and each bring up a large stone out of the bed of the river, from the place where the priests had stood, and plant them in the earth, on the bank, at the place where they lodged that night. But this was not all. They were to carry as huge stones as they could manage down into the bed of the river, and set them up also there, so big and strong as to stand above the surface of the stream, and resist the force of the current. This seems a curious proceeding, does it not? to take twelve stones out of the bed of the river and plant them on the ground, and roll twelve great stones off the bank into the river, and set them up there. What was the purpose of this? Listen to what Joshua says: "This shall be a sign among you, that when your children ask their fathers in time to come, saying, What mean ye by these stones? Then ye shall answer them, That the waters of Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord, when it passed over Jordan; and these stones shall be for a memorial unto the children of Israel for ever." In one word, they were to be perpetual reminders to the Israelites to be grateful to God for having brought them into the land promised to their fathers, the land flowing with milk and honey. Very well! how many times has God sent you great deliverances, and brought great blessings upon you: has carried you through great dangers: has brought you out of the depths of sickness? Over and over again has He done this. He blesses you every day. Look around--you, too, have got your tokens set up as a memorial unto you for ever. Look at your houses, they are memorials to you of what God has brought you into. Look at your children, every one of them is a little mark-stone or memorial of God's goodness to you. Look at your health, your good strong arms. They should be to you memorials for ever of God's loving protection extended towards you. Look at your conscience, which stings you when you do wrong, which approves when you do right. What is that but a mark-stone or memorial that God's Good Spirit has been given you to be a guide? Look at this church, it is a mark-stone or memorial to you that God's word sounds in your ears, and God's Sacraments are celebrated for your benefit. Look at that altar, it is a memorial for ever that Christ died for you, and gives His Body and Blood for the strengthening and refreshing of your souls. Verily, you have only to look into your homes, and look through your lives, and you will find many and many a memorial set up to remind you of, the love of God, and also--mark this!--to be thankful. II. When Jacob was dying, he said to Joseph, "Behold, I die, but God shall be with you. I have given to thee one portion above thy brethren." Now, my brethren, there are diversities of gifts, you have all received of God many gifts, some of one sort, some of another. I turn to the rich. You have been given wealth, whilst so many are poor. "God hath given to thee one portion above thy brethren." What use do you make of it? Are you thankful? I turn to those with talents. "God hath given to thee one portion above thy brethren." What use do you make of the talent committed you? Are you thankful? I look at you who are so healthy and robust. There are numbers infirm and ailing. "God hath given to thee one portion above thy brethren." How do you show your thankfulness? You, tradesmen! On all sides I see men failing in business, but to you work comes, as much as you can execute. Well, "God hath given to thee one portion above thy brethren." Are you grateful? And you, good house-wife! You have got a steady, affectionate husband, and, alas! so many have drunken or unthrifty mates, or husbands with bad tempers. Verily, "God hath given to thee one portion above thy sisters." Thank Him, thank Him on your knees. CONCLUSION.--"In everything give thanks," says S. Paul. Remember, Adam and Eve were in Paradise surrounded by every blessing, but we do not hear that they thanked God for them, and they lost them. Beware lest a thankless spirit forfeit those good things which you now enjoy. "Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits! Who forgiveth all thy sin: and healeth all thine infirmities: Who saveth thy life from destruction; and crowneth thee with mercy and loving-kindness." LII. _TRUST IN GOD._ 15th Sunday after Trinity. S. Matt. vi. 31. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness." INTRODUCTION.--We read in ancient Roman history that a general named Aemilius Paulus was appointed to the Roman army in a time of war and great apprehension. He found in the army a sad condition of affairs, there were more officers than fighting men, and all these officers wanted to have their advice taken, and the war conducted in accordance with their several opinions. Then Aemilius Paulus said to them, "Hold your tongues, and sharpen your swords, and leave the rest to me." It seems to me that our Lord's advice in this day's Gospel is of somewhat the same nature. He finds in the army of His Church everyone clamouring after his worldly affairs, wanting this, and objecting to that, all seeking their own, and not the things of Jesus Christ. Then He says, "Hold your tongues, and sharpen your swords, and leave the rest to Me. Take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or what shall we drink? or wherewithal shall we be clothed? Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." SUBJECT.--In our great solicitude after our temporal welfare, we do not seek first our spiritual welfare, but put that altogether in the background. In fact, we do not trust God, we trust ourselves chiefly. We fear if we do not devote our whole attention to our worldly prosperity, we shall not get on. And so we neither seek the kingdom of God, nor the righteousness of God; we seek only the world and the things that are in the world. If we had more trust in God, it would not be so. I. The Bible is made up of six classes of books. To the first class belong the historical books. To the second the book of Psalms. To the third class belong the books that deal with Wisdom. To the fourth the Prophets. To the fifth the Gospels, and to the sixth the canonical Epistles. Now in all these different classes of books we find the same assurance made by God, that if we will but attend to our spiritual concerns, He will see that our temporal affairs do not suffer. In one of the first historical books we have this promise (Levit. xxvi. 3, 4, 5), "If ye walk in my statutes, and keep my commandments and do them; then I will give you rain in due season, and the land shall yield her increase, and the trees of the field shall yield their fruit, and ye shall eat your bread to the full, and dwell in your land safely." In the book of Psalms David says (xxiv. 9), "O fear the Lord, ye that are His saints: for they that fear Him lack nothing," and again (xlv. 23), "O cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He will nourish thee." In the books that deal with Wisdom we have (Proverbs x. 3) "The Lord will not suffer the soul of the righteous to famish." In the Prophets (Isai i. 19), "If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land." In the Gospels (S. Matt. vi. 33), "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." In the Epistles (Pet. v. 7), "Cast all your care upon Him, for He careth for you." We are generally perfectly satisfied when we have an agreement drawn out between man and man,--one promise on one scrap of paper is enough, but here we have at least five, and I could produce you plenty of others, yet, because it is a bond signed by God, you mistrust it, O ye of little faith. You will take a bond signed by a Jew, but not one signed by God. II. "Your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things." Is God not our Father? There is no Father like to Him, no Father loves us as He does. If He loves us, will He not care for us? What good father will neglect his child, and deny it those things that are necessary for it? Ask any little boy whom you see in rags, 'My child, why are you in rags? What will you do to get a new suit? You have nothing of your own.' Certainly, his natural and proper answer should be, 'I will ask my father. He will supply me.' When a child is hungry, whither should it go? To whom should it apply? To its father. Why then do not we trust our Heavenly Father as any little child will trust its father on earth? Yet we know that He is our Father, and is, as S. Paul says, "rich in mercies" Our Lord bids us look at the birds of the air. Who feeds them? Their Creator. Will He not then care for us far more, who are His noblest creatures? III. A great poetical and satirical writer (Horace) says that this was the popular maxim of his day, "Seek money first, and be good afterwards." [1] What he had the boldness to say, a great people have the boldness to do. They leave the kingdom of Heaven to be sought, after they have spent their lives in seeking the things of this world. But the things of this world sought without God will not profit. When Isaac set his sons to bring him venison, that he might bless them and die, Jacob arrived first with the savoury meat; then Isaac lifted up his voice and blessed his son; "God give thee of the dew of Heaven, and the fatness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine." Afterwards Esau came in with venison. And when he saw that his brother had received the first blessing, he cried with a great and exceeding bitter cry, and said unto his father, "Bless me, even me also, O my father." Then Isaac said to him, "Behold, thy dwelling shall be the fatness of the earth, and of the dew of Heaven from above." Each had the same, the richness of golden harvests, the abundance of fruit, and the soft dews and rains in their season. But there was a notable difference, adapted to the characters of the two brothers. Esau was a profane man, he disregarded divine things. He was ready to sell his birthright, his privilege to be the forefather of Messiah, for a mess of pottage. He cared not for God, neither was God in all his thoughts. It was otherwise with Jacob, he regarded God, he sought God, he saw God in the visions of the night, he strove with God in prayer. He had set God always before him. And thus these several blessings were apportioned to them. Esau had the fatness of the earth and the dew of Heaven, Jacob also had the fatness of the earth and the dew of Heaven, but Isaac said to Jacob alone "_God give thee_ all these things." To Esau only "Thou shalt get for thyself all these things." God before all to Jacob, and all these things added unto him. All these things to Esau, and God nowhere. CONCLUSION.--And now, my brethren, try to trust God more. Do not give up all thought to the concerns of this life, but leave them somewhat on the hands of God, whilst you consider the concerns of your soul. You will not suffer for it. "If ye be willing and obedient, and seek the kingdom of Heaven, He will nourish thee." [1] "Quaerenda pecunia primum, virtus post nummos." LIII. _THE CONTEMPLATION OF DEATH._ 16th Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke vii. 12. "Behold, there was a dead man carried out." INTRODUCTION.--The name of the village where the miracle was wrought which is recorded in this day's Gospel, was Nain, and the meaning of the name is "Pleasant" or "Beautiful." A sweet little village, you can picture it to yourself where you like, in the East, anywhere in Europe, here in England, it is all the same, an "Auburn" among villages, with thatched cottages, and green pastures, and the cows coming home lowing in the evening, when the curfew tolls the knell of passing day. The grey church tower peeping above the lime trees, and the rooks cawing and wheeling above the old trees. The trim gardens blazing with hollyhocks and large white lilies, and the orchards with the apples shewing their rosy cheeks to the sun. The bell is slowly tolling--"Behold, a dead man is carried out." Who is it? To-day a young man, the only son of his mother, and she a widow. To-morrow the old squire, who can no more mount his cob and go after the hounds, his whip and red coat are laid aside, and the bell is going. "Behold, a dead man is carried out." Again the Sexton is working in the church-yard, and turning up the fresh smelling earth. The bell is going. For what? Up the steps and along under the avenue come little girls about a tiny coffin, over which is cast a white pall, and on which lies a wreath of white hyacinths. "Behold, a dead child is carried out, the darling of its father." And now the yellow leaves are falling, and are heaped about the feet of the limes, and fall through the warm damp air, that smells of dying vegetation, and the priest stands in surplice waiting in the path, and the dead leaves drop on the coffin as it is borne along. Who is this? "Behold a dead woman is carried out, an aged mother, with her weeping grown up sons and daughters and grandchildren all in black following." SUBJECT.--It is not a pleasant thing to think of, and yet it is well for you to contemplate, that some day the same question will be asked as the church bell tolls, Who is this? Who is dead? And the same answer will come, "Behold, a dead man is carried out," and that will be you. Nothing is more commonplace than to say that we must all die, and nothing is less realised and taken to heart and acted upon. I. That procession the Saviour met, was coming out of Nain, the "Pleasant," the "Beautiful." And so, every dead man is carried out of what is a Nain to him, a pleasant, beautiful world. It is a pleasant, beautiful world. We cannot deny it. God made it and pronounced it very good. It has in it many unpleasantnesses, it has in it much that is ugly, but there is pleasure and beauty in it still, the traces of its own loveliness before sin drew furrows in its face and saddened its heart. A very Nain it is. We are now in Autumn, and the leaves are turning fast. The dogwood leaves are bright carmine, and the maple yellow as sulphur, the last flowers are out in the hedges, the pink cranesbill and the blue oxtongue which will hang on till after Christmas. The elder which was so white and fragrant in May, is covered now with purple berries, and the ash is hung with scarlet beads, so bright, so many, and so beautiful, that the swallows are hovering round them all day impatient to begin, and improvident of the future. Nature even in its decay is beautiful, and what was it in spring? Remember the primroses out on every bank, and the anemones in the wood, and the blue flush of wild hyacinths in the coppice! Verily, we are in Nain, a pleasant and beautiful place. Alas! alas! my brother! my sister! Behold there will be a dead man, a dead woman carried out from it, to see it no more, and that will be one of us. Is it sad? Yes, no doubt it is. II. But though sad, the thought of it must not be put away. S. Paul says, "We have the sentence of death in ourselves." We carry about in us ever the doom--we are sentenced men--and the sword will fall on us some day. The story is told of a Norwegian king that he promised to give a young nobleman any reward he chose to ask for, because of something he had done for him. Then the young man boldly asked for the hand of the princess, the only child and heiress to the kingdom. The king answered him, "Yes! I have promised. You shall have her hand, and lose your head, the same day." Then a grand wedding was prepared. And a stately procession moved to the church, of the bride in white, and the bridegroom in his most gallant apparel, but as he went along, he heard a sound of a file from the executioner's room, who was sharpening his axe. And he stood before the altar with his bride, and the priest joined their hands,--but all the while the executioner was sharpening his axe. Then the bells of the city pealed, and the heralds blew their trumpets, and the people shouted, and girls strewed flowers in the path, and their way went by the executioner's lodging where he was still engaged on his axe. Then there was a great feast, and wine flowed, and the most dainty meats were put on table; it was a hot day, and the windows were open, and above the din of tongues and laughter, came the thud of a hammer. In the courtyard of the palace the executioner was setting up the scaffold. And after the banquet came a grand ball, and the rooms were lighted up, and the ball-room was hung with festoons of flowers, and the bride and bridegroom led the dance, but ever as they danced they turned their heads and looked out of the window, and saw the scaffold, which was being draped in black. At length, in the midst of all the merriment, the bell began to toll, and the door flew open, and before all the dancers stood the executioner with his axe in hand and a black mask over his face, and he beckoned to the bridegroom to come. "And behold a living man was carried out--to die." My Brethren, it is not so very different with us. We carry about the sentence of death in ourselves. Whatever we do, wherever we go, the sentence of death is in us. You do your work. You are ploughing the field and whistling, and you carry, as you make the furrow, the sentence of death in yourself. You are busy about your house-work, good-wife, sweeping, dusting, mending, scouring, cooking,--and all the while you have the sentence of death in yourself. You have a holiday, and go on a pic-nic, and laugh, and are merry, and come back under the evening sky singing and making jokes--but you carry with you to your pic-nic and back again the sentence of death in yourselves. III. Now if this be so, how ought we to live? Ought we to thrust the thought away from us as horrible? Ought it to mar our happiness? Ought it to disquiet us in our work? Far from it. Nain is a pleasant and beautiful place, but there is one more pleasant and more beautiful, where the leaves do not fall, nor the flowers wither, where no sickness comes, and where no dead men are carried out. Let us look to that, the new Jerusalem, the Heavenly City, the vision of peace, and that will banish our sadness, we shall not be downcast at leaving so much that is pleasant behind, but rejoice that we pass on from things temporal to things eternal. No! we shall not be saddened by the contemplation of death, but we shall be made more earnest to use this world without abusing it, to make the most of our opportunities, to redeem the time because the days are evil, to run our race temperately, and not uncertainly, and so to run that we may obtain the incorruptible crown, that we may attain to the goal, the prize of our high calling. LIV. _HUMILITY._ 17th Sunday after Trinity. S. Luke, xiv. 2. "Whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." INTRODUCTION.--Both Isaiah, Ezekiel, and the apostle John saw in vision the glory of Heaven and the throne of God, and near it four beasts, "full of eyes, within and without." That is to say the beasts saw all that was within them as well as all that was outside them. Most of us here on earth are very different. We are full of eyes without, we see everything that is going on among our neighbours, and a great deal which is not there also, but we have no eyes for seeing anything within, and we know nothing of ourselves, our own faults, and our own errors. We see every wrong thing done by a neighbour, we have eyes for this, but we see no wrong done by ourselves, we have no eyes for that. We see all the weakness of others, we have eyes for this, but we see none of our own weakness, we have no eyes for that. We see all the folly of others, we have eyes for this, but for our own stupid acts and words we are blind, we have no eyes for that. It would be better if we were well supplied with eyes within, instead of so many eyes without. It would be better for our neighbours, and it would be better for ourselves. In to-day's Gospel we hear of the chief Pharisees watching Christ. They had eyes for that. They watched Him to find occasion against Him. But that they were hypocrites and perverters of the law, they knew not. They had no eyes for this. SUBJECT.--The first shall be last, and the last first, says our Lord. That is, those who have eyes without only, for the rest of the world, who see themselves as perfect, and have no eyes for their own defects, shall find themselves hereafter at the foot of the ladder, and those who have eyes within, seeing their own weakness, shortcomings, falls, who have therefore been humble, and esteemed others more highly than themselves, these will be exalted to the top of the ladder. I. Most men value themselves more highly than they have any right, and value themselves very often for those things which are not their own, they take the honour paid to their possessions, as though due to themselves. This fable is related by an ancient writer. An ass once had the golden image of the Goddess Isis set on his back, and he was led through the streets of a city in Egypt. Then the Egyptians fell down on their faces and worshipped, and raised their hands in supplication. The ass was puffed up with pride, and began to prick up his ears and prance. Then the driver brought down his stick upon his back, and said, "You ass! the honour is given not to you, but to what you bear." There is many a man who is no less elated by his position, or by some good fortune that falls to him, than this ass. The man of wealth holds up his head and expects every one to bow to him; he thinks a great deal of himself, and he finds that a great many persons cringe to him and flatter him. "Man! the honour is given, not to you, but to the gold you carry." It may be the same with office, or title; respect is given to the magistrate, or the nobleman, or the general, or the captain, or the poor-law officer, or the policeman, and he thinks much of himself accordingly. "Man! the honour is given not to you, but to the title or office, or authority you carry." And there is many a woman who puts on new and gay clothes, a new bonnet, or a new gown, in the highest fashion, and she sails into church with her chin in the air, and a flutter in her heart, knowing that all eyes are upon her. "Woman! all are admiring--not you,--but the clothes you carry." Whatever it be that we have, which others have not, it should not elate, but humble us, for a talent entails a responsibility. He that has gold has to answer to God what use he makes of it. "How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of Heaven." He that has office and authority is under great responsibility to discharge his duties in his office, and exercise the authority entrusted to him well. It was the fact that he was a man in authority which made the Centurion humble, and brought on him the commendation of Christ. "Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldest enter under my roof; neither thought I myself worthy to come unto Thee, for I am a man set under authority, having under me, soldiers, and I say unto one, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh; and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it." He that has intellectual gifts must be humble, not proud, because of them, for he is answerable for the use he makes of them. II. God is very likely to humble those who set too high a price on themselves; and better that He should bring them down to a just appreciation of their own selves, in this world, than hereafter. King Nebuchadnezzar had a vision. He saw a great image, the head was of gold, the breast and arms of silver, the belly and thighs of brass, the legs of iron, and the feet of clay. He called Daniel to interpret his dream to him, and Daniel said, "Thou, O King, art a King of kings, for the God of Heaven hath given thee a kingdom, power, and strength, and glory--thou art this head of gold." Then the prophet went on to speak of other great nations, and how that all would be involved in a common ruin, a little stone out of the mountain would roll down on the feet of clay and break them, and then the great image, golden head, and silver breast, and brazen body, and iron legs, would all go to pieces--they rested on an infirm footing, fragile clay. King Nebuchadnezzar, however, thought only of himself as the golden head. Golden head must have golden breast, and a golden breast must have a golden trunk, and golden trunk golden legs, and golden legs must rest on feet of gold. That will stand, and that will represent me better than this patchwork affair of which I dreamed. So he set him up the golden image in the plain of Dura. That represented himself as he regarded himself, the image seen in vision represented him as he was in reality, as God saw him. What followed? God smote him and he went mad. He was driven out as a wild beast into the fields, as a raving madman, and thus he remained till his senses returned, and he acknowledged with humility, that his prosperity did rest on a fragile footing, and that God knew better what he was worth than did he himself. Now apply this to yourselves. No doubt that each of you has his excellence. One has got a head of gold, another a heart of gold. One has the strength and endurance of iron, another has means, plenty of silver, each has something of which he can boast; but take care not to make golden images of yourselves and set them up, and expect every one to bow down before them and take you at your own estimation. God will humble you. The feet are of clay, and the proud statues will fall some day. Therefore try to see yourselves as you really are, "Let him that exalteth himself take heed lest he fall." "Be clothed with humility," is the exhortation of S. Peter, "for God resisteth the proud and giveth grace to the humble. Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time." And S. James says, "Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you up." LV. _PROFESSION AND PRACTICE._ 18th Sunday after Trinity. S. Matt. xxii. 42. "What think ye of Christ?" INTRODUCTION.--Many men are Christians neither in understanding nor in heart. Some are Christians in heart, and not in understanding. Some in understanding, and not in heart, and some are Christians in both. If I were to go into a Temple of the Hindoos, or into a Synagogue of the Jews, and were to ask, "What think ye of Christ?" the people there would shake their heads and deny that He is God, and reject His teaching. The heathens and Jews are Christians neither in understanding nor affection. But there are, and always have been pious men who have not known Christ, but have lived good self-denying lives, lived a great deal better than most Christians, and have died, yearning to see God, whom they groped after, but did not find. I should say these were Christians in heart, though not in understanding. If I were to put the question to you, "What think ye of Christ?" you would answer at once that He is very God, of one substance with the Father, and also very Man, of the substance of His Mother, the God-Man, your Redeemer, and Saviour, and Lord. When I hear the answer, I say--Well! here we have indeed Christians in their understanding. Now I want to know further, are you Christians in heart and affection? S. Paul says that in his time there were some who were Christians in profession, that is, in understanding, and there their Christianity came to an end. "They profess that they know God, but in works they deny Him, being abominable, and disobedient, and unto every good work reprobate." Is it in any degree so with you? SUBJECT.--The true Christian is he who is such in understanding and in affection, or, in other words, in profession and in practice. I. It is very necessary to have a good understanding of Christ and His truth. "Without faith it is impossible to please God; for he that cometh to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him." There are certain truths, the knowledge of which we believe are necessary to salvation. That is, without an understanding of certain definite revealed truths, there is not much chance of salvation, for the ignorance of these truths is proper in a Christian, and without a knowledge of them, a Christian is not able to live a spiritual and a Christian life. These truths are contained in the Creed, and are taught to every child. It is not enough to repeat the Creed like a parrot, but the meaning of the truths contained in it must be grasped by the mind and understood. This is the advantage of Christian instruction, and I think it would be well if we Clergy, instead of so generally appealing to your consciences to lead good lives, were more frequently to refresh your minds with the truths which you must embrace with your understandings. I believe one great reason why you make so little advance in the spiritual life is, that you so little understand what God requires of you to believe. After the Children of Israel had been carried into captivity by the Assyrian king Shalmanezar, a number of persons were sent from Babylon to inhabit Samaria, the capital, and other cities of Israel. They settled there, but did not thrive, for this reason, the land was overrun with lions. You will find the story in 2 Kings xvii. A great many of the colonists were killed by the lions. "Therefore they spake to the king of Assyria, saying, The nations which thou hast removed, and placed in the cities of Samaria, have lions among them, and behold, they slay them." What course did Shalmanezar adopt, on hearing this? Did he send them hunters, expert in killing lions? No. Or dogs to drive them? Did he supply them with snares, and teach them how to make pitfalls for the lions? No!--listen to what he did. "Then the king of Assyria commanded, saying, Carry thither one of the priests whom ye brought from thence; and let him teach them the manner of the God of the land." This succeeded, for we learn that the lions ceased to trouble the colonists when they had learned to know and fear the God of Israel. What a lesson this heathen king sets us! "The devil walketh about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour, whom resist, steadfast in the faith." Do you notice the words of S. Peter? The lion who seeks to devour you, who lays waste the land, who destroys so many souls, can be mastered and expelled, but only if you are steadfast in the faith, only if, like these settlers in Samaria, you have been taught the manner of the God of our land. Evil of all sort, temptations and snares, evil spirits and seductions will draw you into destruction, and you will be quite powerless to escape or resist, unless you know the manner of the God of our land, or--in S. Peter's words--are steadfast in the faith. II. It is not enough to understand, you must also love and follow the law of your God with all your hearts. You must not only know God, but you must obey Him. You must not only be instructed in the manner of the God of our land, but you must also observe it. Now there are a great many who are Christians in profession only, they draw near to God with their lips, and say Lord! Lord! but with their hearts they are far from Him. One day a philosopher came before king Herod Atticus, and when the king asked him what profession he was of, what office he held, the philosopher answered, "Look at my robe and you will see what I am." For the philosophers affected a certain sort of garment. Then Herod answered, "Pardon me, I see the habit, but not the philosopher." That is to say--"I see what you call yourself, and pretend to be, but I do not know whether you are the wise and learned man for which you give yourself out." I fear that if I were to follow and watch you during the week, I should be obliged to say--"I see the habit, but not the Christian." It is true there is the profession. You say you are a Christian, you assure me you believe in God, you undertake to live a sober and godly life, to resist evil, and cleave to what is good. All this is the outside habit, the mere name and profession, I see the habit,--but in your acts I do not see the Christian. No! there is not the Christian in you when you tell lies. Not the Christian when you slander your neighbour. Not the Christian when you deal dishonestly with your masters. Not the Christian when you fly into a passion and swear and curse. Not the Christian when you use foul words. On Sundays you have on your Sunday coat, or your Sunday gown, and you are as demure as Saints, and attend Church regularly. There is the habit. I see the habit. But where is your Christianity in the week? How much prayer? How much thought of God? How much self-restraint? I see the habit, but not the Christian. CONCLUSION.--Remember then that it is not enough to know Christ, and to believe. You must also love Christ and obey. Only by acting up to your profession, by walking worthy of the vocation whereby you are called, can you be regarded as a true disciple of Christ. He is not the true soldier who is enrolled, and deserts; he is not the good servant who says to his master, I go, and goeth not. If you know of Christ, you have a greater obligation laid on you to follow Him in love and obedience, than if you knew Him not. "What think ye of Christ?" That is not enough. "How live ye as Christians?" is needed as well. LVI. _EVIL THOUGHTS._ 19th Sunday after Trinity. S. Matt. ix. 4. "Wherefore think ye evil in your hearts?" INTRODUCTION.--Thoughts are only thoughts! who is to beheld accountable for them? They are clouds blown about by fancy, taking various shapes. God is not so hard as to judge us for our thoughts; He will try us by what we have done, not by what we have dreamed. No garden is without weeds; there are tares in every cornfield. Who speak thus? Is it those who are conscientious and scrupulous to drive away evil thoughts? Or those who allow their heads and hearts to be hives in which they dwell? I allow that evil thoughts must enter the mind, and I add that they do no harm so long as they are not admitted into the heart. I allow that it is impossible to keep the mind so closed against evil that no bad thoughts find admission. There is no sin in the bad thoughts coming, but the sin begins when they are allowed to settle, and to fly-blow the heart. SUBJECT.--I am not going to speak to-day anything that will distress those good souls who struggle with, and drive away, evil thoughts when they torment them; God has seen fit to try them with these, as He suffered the Israelites to lie tried by the remnants of the heathen nations which remained in the land,--but I am going to speak to those who indulge in evil thoughts of all kinds, and make no effort to banish them. I tell them that this is a dangerous thing. If they rely on being safe so long as they keep their bodies from evil, and allow their minds and hearts to revel in evil thoughts, they are guilty of sin; they may not be staining their bodies, but they are corrupting their souls. I have lived for some weeks on the side of the Rhine where a bridge connected the German side of the river with the town on the other side, which is in Switzerland. When the market-women came over the bridge, the Custom-House officers made them open their baskets, and they looked in to see whether they brought over anything taxable. I would have you examine all the thoughts that come drifting through your head, and if they are bad, and not allowable, turn them back. I. "Wherefore think ye evil in your hearts?" Our Lord tells us that sin commences in the heart, and is as truly in the thought as in the act. "Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not kill. But I say unto you, That whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment. Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery. But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart." S. John Chrysostom truly said, "Men's souls are not so greatly injured by the temptations which assail them from outside, as from those evil thoughts which poison them within." There may be evil thoughts of many kinds, envious thoughts, discontented thoughts, profane thoughts, unkind thoughts, angry thoughts, avaricious thoughts, impure thoughts. All these thoughts come buzzing about the head and heart, and will settle to do harm, unless driven away. They are only little thoughts. Each is very small, but altogether they are a great host. They are like flies. Pharaoh, King of Egypt, was plagued with flies. They came upon his servants, and the houses of the Egyptians were full of swarms of flies, "and the land was corrupted by reason of the swarm of flies." The heads of a great many people are like the houses of the Egyptians--full of swarms of evil thoughts thick as flies, and all as small, and in themselves as insignificant. The flies tormented the Egyptians when they sat in their chambers, flying round them, buzzing in their ears, lighting on their hands and faces; when they went to their meals the flies were there, all over the meat and the bread, and falling into their cups, and defiling every thing. When they went to bed the flies were in their bedrooms, and all night long were racing over their faces, and driving away sleep. Now look at your evil thoughts, you who are plagued with a swarm of them. When you kneel down to say your prayers, they are there distracting your attention. When you are at table or with friends, they are there disturbing your thoughts, perhaps corrupting your conversation. When you are alone, they are there filling your mind with images and sounds. When you are in bed, they are there, keeping you awake. Your thoughts--these evil thoughts, so numerous, in such swarms, never forsake you. In church they are present, disturbing you. When you walk, they surround you, when you work, they interrupt you. And, like the flies in Egypt, "the land is corrupted by reason of the swarm." Your hearts are corrupted by the bad thoughts always hovering over them, and settling down on them. Am I drawing a fanciful picture? Not at all. I know it is so with many, I do not say all, but with many. They disregard evil thoughts because they are such trifling things--like flies, so easily brushed away; like flies, so light and volatile; like flies, so little. And yet they utterly degrade and corrupt the heart. "The land was corrupted by reason of the swarm of flies." II. When Abraham prepared a sacrifice to the Lord, there came down on it swarms of birds of carrion (Gen. xv.) And when they did so, we are told that Abraham "drove them away." The chief Baker of Pharaoh had meats in a basket on his head, and the birds came down on them, and carried them off. "The birds did eat them out of the basket upon my head" (Gen. xl.) To Abraham was given a promise of a great blessing and glorious future. To the Baker was given a warning that he should be hanged within three days. One drove the birds away, and the other did not. Now this applies to evil thoughts. If you will be like Abraham and be blessed, you will drive the evil thoughts away as fast as they come on. If you let them come, and make no effort to repel them, they will carry away from you all the graces wherewith you have been endowed at baptism, and they will corrupt your heart as well. LVII. _THE HEAVENLY BANQUET._ 20th Sunday after Trinity. S. Matt. xxii. 4. "Behold, I have prepared my dinner; my oxen and my fatlings are killed, and all things are ready; come unto the marriage." INTRODUCTION.--The Kingdom of Heaven has two meanings in this parable. It means in the first place the Catholic Church. Into that the apostles and pastors of Christ invite men to enter, and many refuse. In the second place it means the Church Triumphant,--eternal blessedness, and into that the pastors of Christ's Church invite you continually, Sunday after Sunday, and many refuse. SUBJECT.--Our subject to-day shall be the Heavenly Banquet, and the invitation to it. I. When God created the world, He did so with a "Let be." He said, "Let there be light"--and light was. "Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters," and it was so, at once. He said, "Let the waters be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear," and, immediately, it was so. And it was the same throughout the work of the Seven Days. He spake the word and the world was made, and all the host of heaven by the breath of His mouth. But when man's salvation was wrought it was otherwise. There was nothing instantaneous about that. Long ages passed before the time came for the Son of God to be born. The preparation was lengthy, there was delay. And when He came, there was no "Let there be," and it was done, but there were thirty-three years spent on earth, and there were the laborious ministry, the sufferings, and the death. That was not all. Still more was done. The Son of God ascended into Heaven after having spent forty days on earth after His resurrection, founding and framing His Church. Then He sent the Holy Ghost down on the Church He had made. Still all is not done. The Church has to battle with the world, to endure persecution, the blood of martyrs has to flow, and three hundred years to pass, before she emerges out of her hidden suffering life into light before the world. That is not all. Still the work goes on. The Sacraments are ministered, the word of God is preached. Invitation to the Banquet of Heaven is given. Salvation is not yet come; the work goes on, and goes on slowly. Look at yourselves, and see how slow the process is. You are baptized, and thereby made a member of Christ. Is all done? By no means, the work is only begun. You grow older, and your temptations grow stronger. Then comes Confirmation, the Holy Spirit is given to strengthen, the seal is put on the Baptismal Contract. Is all done? By no means, it is only progressing. The Holy Communion is given you. You partake of the sacred Body and Blood of Christ. Surely now all is complete, and salvation secured. No--by no means, not yet. All through life the work goes on. It is not done at death. It will not be done till the Judgment Day. Why is this? Because man has Free Will, and can oppose and hinder the work of God. He can even bring it to naught. When God made the world it was done at His word, for there was no opposition, no independent free will had to be taken account of; but in the salvation of man it is otherwise, man has to be considered, he has a will which can turn all the good intentions of God from him, and make them of no avail. God cannot save man without his free consent. God's grace cannot sanctify him without his co-operation with it. God can invite and attract, He cannot force. In the parable, the king sends out to entreat his subjects to come, and when they refuse he punishes them, but he does not send his soldiers to drive them into his banqueting hall. II. All that God can do is to invite; but He invites most pressingly, and holds out every inducement that He possibly could. God desires all men to be saved, He willeth not the death of a sinner. "Christ," says S. Paul, "died for all,"--to reconcile all men to God. He hung on the cross for all, to save all that will come to Him and be saved--He died "for us men, and our salvation." The Amalekites attacked the city of Ziklag, and took it, and burned it with fire, and departed, carrying away with them the two wives of David, Ahinoam the Jezreelitess, and Abigail, who had been the wife of Nabal the Carmelite. When David knew this, he fell into great distress, and he gathered an army and went to the place, and there he wept "till he had no more power to weep." And he pursued after the Amalekites with four hundred men, and he fell on them, and the battle raged four and twenty hours. "He smote them from twilight even unto the evening of the next day," and he recovered out of their hands his two wives. Now suppose that one of them, say Abigail, fell into low spirits, thinking that David did not love her, and would not bring her into his palace, and show her favour, one would say to her, What is the meaning of this? Your sad spirits and gloomy doubts are proof of an unthankful spirit. Look at David. See a clear evidence that you are wrong. Look! he is covered with dust from the battle, he is so exhausted that he can scarce breathe. For you he fought, for you he exposed himself to great risk, for you he conquered. He has redeemed you out of the power of the enemy. See! he extends to you his hand, red with his blood shed for you. He holds out his hand to invite you to follow him, that he may bring you home in safety. Away with these wicked doubts and this black mistrust! I may say exactly the same to you. Do you want any token of the love of Christ? Any assurance of His goodwill towards you? Look at Him! See what He has done and suffered for you! For you He spent thirty-three years in struggle, for you He was exposed to the scoffs of the Jews, for you He was scourged, for you He was crucified. To you He extends His hand, red with His blood, to beckon you to follow Him, that where He is there you may be also. He has shown you His love. What could He have done more? He has promised you Heaven. He has assured you that He is gone there to prepare a place for you, that He may receive you unto Himself. He tells you that there is the kingdom He has prepared for you from the foundation of the world. Could He make better promises? III. But He can do no more. He cannot drive you into Heaven. It is left to you, to your free will to decide. You can accept, or you can refuse. You can make use of the Sacraments, the means He has provided for enabling you to gain the Kingdom, or you may turn your backs on them. He will not drive you. All He will do is to invite, and say, "Come! for all things are now ready." LVIII. _EXAMPLE._ 21st Sunday after Trinity. S. John iv. 13. "And himself believed, and his whole house." INTRODUCTION.--As the tree so the fruit, as the parents so the children, as the master so his men, as the mistress so her household. This is not indeed a rule without exceptions, but as a general rule it holds. No man liveth and dieth to himself, we are all members one of another, and we all influence the conduct of others, and determine their careers, more than we ourselves imagine. It is not, indeed, always true that good parents have good children, but it is generally the case. It is not always that bad parents have bad children, but it is exceptional when it is otherwise. Indeed, the virtues of parents become in some way inherent in their offspring, and the vices of parents last in the blood of their children, and even descend to their children's children. How often is this the case with a tendency to drink! Although the child may have lost his parent young, and not seen his bad example, yet he has in him a yearning after stimulants, and very often becomes a drunkard like his father. SUBJECT.--Let us, to-day, consider the effect of the example of parents on their children; and of teachers on their pupils. I. There is a striking passage in the fifth chapter of S. John which may not hitherto have attracted your attention. One Sabbath Day our Blessed Lord went to Bethesda, and there healed a man who had had an infirmity thirty and eight years. He healed him, and bade him take up his bed, and walk. The Jews were wroth, and said, "It is the Sabbath Day, it is not lawful for thee to carry thy bed." Then we are told the Jews did persecute Jesus, and sought to slay Him, because He had done these things on the Sabbath Day. "But Jesus answered them: My Father worketh hitherto, and I work." That is to say--My Father worketh on the Sabbath, He sends His rain, He makes the grass to grow, He feeds the young ravens, He causes the sun to rise and set, He works good to all creatures, feeds, and heals, and as I see my Father act, so, naturally, as a Son, I act also. Whatsoever the Son seeth the Father do, He doeth likewise. The argument of the Jews avails nothing, that as the man has lain infirm for thirty-eight years, he may lie another twelve hours. "My Father worketh hitherto good on the Sabbath, and therefore I work." It matters nothing what the Law may enjoin, nor how strict may be the tradition of the Pharisees, "My Father worketh good on the Sabbath, and therefore I work." Our Lord produces this as an argument against which there can be no resistance, to which there can be no reply, an argument commending itself to every man's understanding--to universal experience--As the father acts, so acts the son. The example of the father is the law of right and wrong to the child. Do you know the fable of the crab and his children? The crab was sore distressed to see his little ones run crookedly on the sand of the sea shore, so he said, "My sons, walk straight!" "Yes," answered the little crabs, "lead thou the way, father, and we will follow thy footsteps." Is it a wonder to you, a wonder and a distress, that your sons do not turn out well, that they go to the public-house too much, and that they are idle workmen, that they swear and use foul language? If you wish them to grow up differently, it is of no use saying to them, "My sons, walk straight!" you must lead the way, that they may follow. Is it a wonder and grief to a mother that her girls become giddy, frivolous, and unsteady, and perhaps cause her shame? Do you want them to be quiet, to stay at home, and be neat, modest, unselfish girls? then do not be giddy and a gadabout yourself. "Lead thou the way, mother, and they will follow." Do you, parents, find that your children ramble about the lanes with idle companions instead of coming to Church on Sundays, that they do not love the worship of God, that they do not fear God, and reverence His sanctuary? Do you want them to be God-fearing, pious, consistent Christians? Then do you lead the way and they will follow. Do you want your boys and girls to hold a check on their tongues, and not to be always wrangling and snapping at one another, scolding, and finding fault, and quarrelling? Then do you lead the way, that they may follow. Lead the way by keeping a check on your tongues, by being gentle and forbearing--you, husband and wife, one with another, not given to railing, but, contrariwise, to blessing. II. You may have observed how often in Holy Scripture the expression recurs, "The God of your Father," or "The God of your Fathers," "The God of my Father," or "of my Fathers." This is a remarkable expression. Is God short of Names that He should be thus designated? Might He not be better termed Almighty, Everlasting, Jehovah? The expression is of such frequent recurrence that it must have a meaning--and this is what it means. There is such a thing as an hereditary religion. As a man regards God, so will his children regard Him. If a man is reverent and devout, and shows that he honours God, and regards Him as a just and righteous God, hating iniquity, and rewarding all those who keep His commandments, then his children will grow up regarding God as just and righteous; but if a man thinks of God as indifferent to righteousness, as so ready in His kindness to forgive everything, and let men do what they like, that He will pardon them for any and everything they do, then his sons will grow up looking on God as the great Author of moral disorder among men. If a man regards God as expecting worship and honour, then the sons will grow up with the same idea of God, and will worship and honour Him, and if a man has no God at all, then his sons will also have no God at all. III. In Exodus God threatens that He will "visit the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, and upon the children's children, unto the third and to the fourth generations." In like manner He blesses a whole posterity for the righteousness of their parents. You see now how and why this is. It is because when a father and mother are wicked, their children grow up wicked also, and their children's children, till the whole family dies out through its vicious habits, or there rises out of it some redeeming element of good. In the same way good parents have good children, and these good children marry, and have also good offspring, and so the goodness of one pious and righteous pair goes on descending and spreading like a fertilizing river, bearing blessings to all who are near it. What an encouragement this is to you parents to lead God-fearing lives! What a warning to those of you who are careless! The belief of the ruler brought belief to his whole house. The salvation of Zacchaeus brought salvation to his whole house also. Righteousness may bring a blessing to your children, and children's children, for many generations. LIX. _THE PREACHER AND HIS HEARERS._ 22nd Sunday after Trinity. S. Matthew xviii. 23. "The kingdom of Heaven is likened unto a certain king, which would take account of his servants." INTRODUCTION.--I have been a good deal abroad, over the Continent of Europe, and whenever I am in a little country inn, I make a point of going into the room where the men are smoking and drinking wine or beer, and hearing their opinions on the politics of the day, and of their country. Now, my experience tells me that in country taverns in France, and Germany, and Belgium, and Switzerland, and Austria, the main topic of discussion is--the Parsons. I have not been much about in this way in England, but I have an idea that it is pretty nearly the same here. What I have heard often said is this, "Nothing easier than to preach!" "Ah! they are always preaching at us, it is a pity that they do not preach to themselves." "Ah! if they would only practice what they preach, we would listen more readily." SUBJECT.--To-day I am going to preach to the preacher, to myself, at least in the first part of my sermon, and you may sit and listen. After that, I will have a word with you. In to-day's Gospel we hear that the king will take account of his servants, that is, God will take account of all those who are His servants, first with those who are His special Ministers, the Clergy, and preachers of His Word, and secondly, of those who are the hearers. I. Now, let me see what God expects of a preacher, and what I ought to be and to do. S. Paul says: "We preach Christ crucified." That is the first thing I am bound to do. I must remember to do that. Then, S. Luke says that Jesus was "mighty in word and deed," and as Christ has sent us even as He was sent by the Father, so must we preachers be mighty, as far as we can, both in word and deed, we must speak boldly and vigorously, and we must act in the same way, we must practice what we preach. That is a great deal expected of us. If we were only to preach up to the level of our own lives, it would be easier. But the preaching goes first; we must preach the highest virtue, and then try to live up to that. S. John the Baptist was set before us as an example of a preacher, and "he was a burning and a shining light." We preachers must give you doctrine which not only shines but also burns, we must not only enlighten your minds by teaching, but also burn your consciences. We must instruct the intellect, and warm and fire the heart. That is requiring a great deal of us. "He maketh his ministers a burning fire," says David, and S. Paul quotes his words approvingly. It is a pleasant thing to enlighten, but to burn is not so pleasant. Yet that is what we preachers are bound to do, we must not speak to you smooth things, but those things which will sting you and make you arise and cry out. Not only what you like, but a great deal that you do not like. That is what is demanded of a preacher. Then again he must not "use the Word of God deceitfully," twisting it to enforce what is not God's truth, but his own fancy. We read that at the trial of Christ there were found two false witnesses who declared that Christ had said, "Destroy this temple, and in three days will I build it up." Now when we look at S. John's Gospel we find that He did say this. How, then, were they false witnesses? They were false witnesses because they gave His words a meaning He never intended them to have. He spoke of the temple of His body; they made His words apply to the temple of Jerusalem. Moses desired that his preaching might be as the dew. "My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech shall distil as the dew, as the small rain upon the tender herb, and as the showers upon the grass" (Deut. xxxii. 2.) Very pleasant it would be to speak so that one's words came down like the dew, or even as the small rain on the tender grass. You would like that, and so would I. You would hold up your heads like the flowers, and drink the dewy doctrine in. But stay! "As the showers upon the grass" as well, says Moses. It will not do for the preacher to speak only gently; his words must come pattering about your heads like a driving April shower, when you will shrink from the rain and hide to get out of the way. The preacher must pour out on you a good strong shower of hard words. But that is not all. He must use the Word of the Lord as a sword. "The Word of God is quick and powerful, and sharper than a two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and of spirit, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." How will the hearers like that? The preacher must not ask that, he must use the Word as it is given him, whether his hearers like it or whether they do not. There was at one time at Coimbra two famous preachers, and all the town ran to hear them; but some thought A. was the best preacher, and some thought that B. was the best. It was discussed among the professors of the University, and then it was found that they were divided--some liked A., and others preferred B.; then an old professor spoke, "I will tell you what I think. I have heard them both, and have formed my opinion. When I have listened to a sermon by A., I come away highly pleased with the preacher; when I come away from a sermon by B., I am heartily disgusted with myself." Then you see which was the true preacher. A. sought his own glory and to show his talent, B. only considered the souls of those he was speaking to. And now I have said what a preacher ought to speak, and also how he ought to act. I do not think it is so easy a matter, if he be a faithful preacher. II. Now then I turn to you, the hearers. Be ye not hearers of the Word, but doers. The word preached you will not profit unless you take hold of it. One day Agilmund, King of the Lombards, was riding past a river. At that time it was customary for heathen mothers to drown those of their children whom they did not care to rear. He saw floating down the rapid stream a number of little crying babes in baskets in which they had been cast in. The king's heart was touched, and he went to the edge of the river where there was a pool and an eddy, and he knelt down and held out his spear to the children; then one of them extended his little hands and clasped hold of the spear, and clung to it, and the king very gently and carefully drew the spear to him with the little fellow holding tight to it. But all the other babes merely cried and sank into the water. Then he carried home the child in his arms, adopted him as his son, and made him his heir to the kingdom. Now all the preacher can do for you, swimming down the great river of time, threatened with death, is to hold out the Word to you. He cannot save you. He cannot do more for you than that. You must lay hold and cling tight to the Word. But why do I say the preacher? It is Jesus Christ Himself who really extends the Word to you, and He will save you if you hold fast to it, and bring you through the waters, and land you in His country, and exalt you to His kingdom. LX. _THE IMAGE OF SELF._ 23rd Sunday after Trinity. S. Matthew xxii., 20. "Whose is this image?" INTRODUCTION.--Some people are very fond of contemplating their own excellencies, of admiring their good qualities, or their success in life; they will talk to you of what they have done, how they made this lucky hit, how they outwitted so-and-so, how they escaped such a danger by their foresight. But they are not fond of considering their imperfections, of lamenting their faults, of confessing their failures, their lost opportunities, their neglected duties, their grave transgressions. No, no! they do not see them, they see only their own good qualities and none of their blemishes, they extol their successes, and hold their tongues over their failures. SUBJECT.--But it would be well for us to contemplate ourselves as we really are, and see ourselves in the light in which we are seen by God, for the Apostle says: "If we would judge ourselves, we shall not be judged," that is, if we would only see ourselves with all our defects, and repent our faults here, and judge ourselves and go and amend, then we should escape the judgment hereafter. I. King David says, in the 51st Psalm, "I acknowledge my faults, and my sin is ever before me." Now, think of this! If any man had occasion to boast it was King David. He had been a poor sheep-boy attending the flocks of his father, a farmer at Bethlehem, and he was taken from the sheepfolds and exalted to be king. What an exaltation for him from a humble origin to the highest place! He might well look back on that with exultation; but no, a shadow steps between and clouds the view, "My sin is ever before me." I daresay his palace walls were hung with tapestry, or painted in colours with pictures representing his deeds. There he was shewn fighting the bear, there taking the lamb from the lion's mouth, and smiting him. There he was pictured with his sling going against the giant Goliath. There he was represented standing over the fallen Philistine and hewing off his head. Look! another picture! his marriage with Michal, the daughter of King Saul. "Whose is this image?" It is that of the conqueror over Amalek. "Whose is this image?" It is David crowned king of Judah in Hebron. And here is a goodly picture; of whom is it? This is David anointed King over all Israel. There is another! David defeating the Philistines in the battle under the mulberry trees. There is one more! "Whose is this image?" It is that of David bringing the ark from Kirjath-jearim, and playing his harp and dancing before it. What a goodly array of pictures! All--all about the glories and successes of David. David paces idly through the halls, he sees the tapestries and paintings, but he regards them not, "My sin is ever before me." He sees only one picture, which is not upon the wall, which the flattering painter has omitted, his guilt with Bathsheba. He goes to war in his armour, and takes the city of Rabbah. He carries off the crown of the king and puts it on his own head. The spoil of the city is great. In the turmoil of battle, in the flush of victory, "My sin is ever before me." He flees before his enemies, before his rebellious son, and is in hiding in the wilderness with a few faithful friends, and then there rises up before him the remembrance of his great transgression, and weighs down his heart. "My sin is ever before me." In joy, in sorrow, in prosperity and in distress it is always the same. "Whose is this image?" It is that of a great king, a mighty warrior, a sweet poet,--"No, no!" says David, "It is the image of a grievous sinner. My sin is ever before me. Let no man call me a good king, I gave over the innocent Uriah to the sword, and took from him his beloved wife. Let no man call me a just man, I divided the land of Mephibosheth with his false, lying slave Ziba, because it went against my pride to go back from what I had said. Let no man call me merciful, when I tortured the Ammonites cruelly, putting them under saws, and under harrows and axes of iron, and made them pass through the brickkiln. Let no man speak of me as a conqueror, when I was miserably conquered by my wicked passions." My brethren! I wish that you would see yourselves in the way in which David did. I wish that instead of turning away your eyes from those pictures in your life which do you no honour, you would look at them with shame. I wish that instead of boasting yourselves as the image of all perfections, you would see yourselves as sinners. II. There was a painter called Bonamico, who was engaged by Cardinal Aretino to paint a series of pictures in his chapel. He began with a beautiful fresco of Jesus Christ. A day or two afterwards, when he came to his work in the morning, he found his picture smeared all over with dabs of colour, red, and black, and blue, and yellow, and utterly defaced and spoiled. The painter was so angry that he refused to go on with his work till the culprit was found. A watch was set, and then it was discovered who had done it. When the painter had left the chapel, a pet ape of Aretino's came in, and having during the day seen the artist at work, he took up brush and colours, and began, in mischief or in imitation, to daub over what the painter had executed. "Whose is this image?" You were made in the image of God, and redeemed by Christ. Whose is the image? You are expected to grow to the stature of the fulness of Christ, to be like Christ, but alas! the Devil, or your evil passions, deface the image, and obliterate the likeness. Can I see anything like Christ in you? Where are the traces of the divine image? I know what Christ is. "I am meek and lowly of heart." Where is your meekness? Some ape has daubed self-conceit over it, and I see nothing else but his bold colours. "He shall not strive nor cry, neither shall any man hear his voice in the street." Where is this quietness and unobtrusiveness in you? Do I not hear angry words and quarrelling? Some ape has daubed out this feature of the Saviour. "I am come not to do mine own will, but the will of Him that sent Me." Where is this readiness to submit to the will of God? Do I not see an eager following of your own wills? Surely also this characteristic of the Son of God is effaced. CONCLUSION.--My brethren, one chief reason why we should see ourselves as we really are is, that we might be able by penitence to wipe out the ugly smears that deface the divine image, and that we might go on to perfection, becoming daily more like unto Him who is our pattern, so that at the Last Day, when we wake up, it will be with the likeness complete, for "we shall be like Him." LXI. _DREAD OF RIDICULE._ 24th Sunday after Trinity. S. Matt. ix. 24. "And they laughed Him to scorn." INTRODUCTION.--"All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution" (2 Tim. iii. 12.) This is what S. Paul says. This is what everyone of you must make up your mind to, if you intend to live godly lives, and, moreover, to live in Christ. Do you know what that meant to the early Christians? It meant that if they were going to be firm in their faith, live up to their profession, and eschew evil, they should be dragged before governors, and hung on what was called the "little horse," and their flesh torn with redhot pincers. It meant that they should be scourged to death, or that they should be roasted alive over slow fires, or that they should be gored in the amphitheatre by a bull, or torn to pieces by a lion, or that they should have their skin taken off, or that their heads should be struck off, or that they should be crucified. So when they were baptized and professed the Creed, and were signed with the cross, they knew that they were enlisted to suffer persecution if they acted up to their profession, and were worthy of the cross on their brows. But this is not the sort of persecution you will be subjected to. The time of such cruel torture is over. The world has become Christian in name, but in heart it is pagan still. "_All_ that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." S. Paul does not limit this to his day. It is not only all in the first century, but all in the nineteenth century as well. Only this is altered--the mode of persecution. SUBJECT.--The persecution you will be subjected to, if you live godly in Jesus Christ is--Ridicule. No one will make you suffer in the body. No pincers and knives will be brought against you,--only Tongues. I. Noah was ordered by God to build an ark on dry ground. Imagine the ridicule he met with! How the people would flock out of an evening, to see how he was getting on. What jibes! How he was tormented with questions, When was the great boat to be launched? How was he to bring the sea up to it? Was he with his three sons to put their shoulders to it, and push it down to the seashore? But Noah did not heed them, he went on with his building. It was very unpleasant to bear. It made him very red with shame and annoyance sometimes. But he did not give up. If he had done so, he would have been drowned. And one day the flood came. The fountains of the great deep were broken up, and the windows of heaven opened, and then the water overflowed the land. Then!--how was it with those men and women who had made fun of Noah? On whose side was the laugh now? The Israelites were ordered by God to camp against Jericho. They were to march round the city once a day, with the priests going before, blowing their trumpets; this was to be done six days in succession, but on the seventh day they were to march seven times round the city, with the priests leading the way, blowing the rams' horns. The first day the inhabitants of Jericho rushed to their walls, and watched, and wondered. The second day they saw the same procession go round the town. It had ended in nothing on Sunday, so they laughed and pointed at them. What a ludicrous sight! All those men armed with swords and spears, who do not use them, those priests blowing the horns as to encourage the Israelites to battle, and not one rushing forward to scale the walls. The third day all the women and children were on the walls, marching round and mimicking them, blowing toy trumpets. What jokes! What jeers shouted from the walls! So on to the Friday. On the Sabbath the people got rather tired of this same scene. It was growing monotonous; so they did not come in such numbers. However, after the Israelites had marched round once, they began to march round a second time. Here was something new! Something still more nonsensical; and the people of Jericho came out on their walls again to flout them, and pass their jokes. When the Israelites had been round twice, they started to go round a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth, then a sixth. The mocking grew more excessive, the ridicule more keen. But, when the circuit of the city was made the seventh time, then, the walls of the city fell down, and the Israelites rushed in over the ruins, and killed all they came across. On whose side was the laugh then? II. As I told you at the beginning of my sermon, if you will live godly in Christ Jesus, you must expect persecution, and the only sort of persecution you will get is Ridicule. Therefore, if you will live godly in Christ Jesus, you must be prepared to be taunted, and made fun of, and teased. The tongues will wag and say all sort of hard things about you; You are a hypocrite, or you are going too far, or you are a fine person to set up to be a saint! but be of good cheer, do not mind the laughter, it is only for a while, and then the tables will be turned, and the laugh will be on your side. It is very unpleasant to be made a butt for ridicule. Of course it is, but it is not so unpleasant as to have your flesh torn off with redhot pincers. The early Christians who would live godly in Christ Jesus had to expect that. It is very galling to have bitter things said of you, often unjust and untrue, only because you have begun to serve God, and lead a better life. Of course it is, but it is not so bitter to bear as a cruel death, and that is what the early Christians had to expect if they would live godly in Christ Jesus. Then again. As the Master was used, so the servant must expect to be treated. Jesus Christ had not only to endure the cruelty of wicked men, but their ridicule as well, "They laughed Him to scorn." CONCLUSION.--Pluck up a little courage, my brethren, and do not be such cowards. If you lack courage, ask of God, and He will give it you. The Spirit of Fortitude is one of the gifts of the Holy Ghost. He gave it to the martyrs to strengthen them under torment, and they were able to endure and not forsake their Lord. Then surely He will give to you that measure of fortitude which will enable you to stand up against Ridicule. LXII. _WHAT LASTS, AND WHAT PASSES AWAY._ 25th Sunday after Trinity. S. Matthew xxiv., 35. "Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My word shall not pass away." INTRODUCTION.--Yes! all will pass away! This beautiful world and all that is on it. Our houses, our churches, our cities, will crumble away; the very earth with its mountains and rivers, and plains, and seas, will pass away. The stars will fall from heaven, the sun will have exhausted its fires, the moon will sink into night. But the words of Christ will last. SUBJECT.--Incessant is the change. Ever are things present passing away, but there is still something that remains. Things pass in their present fashion, but in substance remain. I. S. Paul, in his 1st Epistle to the Corinthians, says (vii. 31): "The fashion of this world passeth away." It is as though this world were a theatre, on which pass many scenes. The curtain rises, and we see first Eden, all beautiful; there is no sin, no death; how lovely is the world in its maiden freshness and innocence, the flowers are blooming, and the birds are singing, and Adam and Eve stand surrounded by the beasts, which fawn on them, and fear them not. O that this lovely scene might remain! But no! "The fashion of this world passeth away." Another scene. The Angel armed with the flaming sword drives our parents forth, the earth brings forth thorns and briars. Man slays the beasts to provide him with food and clothing. The earth is full of violence, Cain raises his hand against Abel. All flesh is corrupt before God. "The fashion of this world passeth away." The flood has purified earth, but now men are scattered through the confusion of tongues, and go over all the world colonising, cutting down trees, planting corn, hunting wild beasts, pasturing cattle, and having flocks of sheep. "The fashion of this world passeth away." Great empires arise, the Chaldean or Assyrian, the Persian, the Greek, these three. Do they last? "The fashion of this world passeth away." A fourth arises; the mighty Roman Empire, extending over the whole known world. The Roman poet wrote of it in the name of his false god, Jupiter, "I put no bounds to this empire, neither of space nor of time, I give it a kingdom without end." Was it so? We find scattered almost everywhere in the old world where we travel traces of this mighty empire, its roads, its castles, its palaces, its coins, but it is gone, gone utterly away, swept away by the hordes of Gothic barbarians. "The fashion of this world passeth away." If we look back at the past times of our own country, what changes do we see! the fashion ever changing, the fashion of government, the fashion of religion, the fashion of dress, the fashion of architecture, all is change, change, and change. Have you ever seen fireworks? Have you seen the rockets rush up into the air, casting a golden light, pouring forth sparks, and then bursting, this one into a silvery globe of light, that one into a thousand stars, crimson, blue, green, yellow, that again into sparks of curling fire-dust? What became of them? Down they fall, and all that remains is a stick and a bit of smouldering brown paper. The fashion has wondrously changed. Are not these rockets figures of the life of man? Up we rush in the eagerness of youth, and cast a light about us, up, up, growing brighter, throwing out our stars and globes of light, and then, "the fashion changeth," and we come down and are laid in our graves, a little ash. Here is the man who was full of wealth and honour, how he blazed as a sun, how he scattered his gold. "The fashion changeth." He is now a crumbling bit of clay. Here is the man who made such a noise in the parish, such a boaster, so quarrelsome, so litigious, no one could come near him. "The fashion changeth." He lies still as a mouse now, and can resent no injury done to his dust. Here is the active housewife, whose hand was always busily employed sewing, darning, scouring, never idle for one minute, keeping her house clean, and her children tidy. "The fashion changeth." She can stir no hand, can think for no one any more. II. Evilmerodach, king of Babylon, was wroth with Daniel, because he denied that Bel was a god. Meats were placed on the altar before the idol every night, and before morning they had vanished. "Therefore," said the king, "Bel must be a god." But Daniel got fine ashes and strewed the temple floor, and locked the doors. Next morning he came with the king to the temple, and when the doors were opened, the king saw that all the meat was gone, then he cried out that Bel was a god. But Daniel pointed to the floor, and there, in the ashes, were the prints of many feet, for the priests had a secret door under the altar, and in the night they came out with their wives and children, and ate what had been offered to the idol. Then Evilmerodach had them all slain. Now, my brethren! Job says of God: "Thou lookest narrowly unto all my paths," or, as it might be better rendered, "my footprints." That is, Thou, O God, seest my traces where I have been, and Thou wilt take account of what I have done. Mark this!--The steps pass away, but the footprints do not pass away. The steps go on into Endless Life or Eternal Death, but the footprints remain to shew where you have walked. Your fashion in this world may pass away, but your footprints remain to tell tales of you; they pass not away. You house-father! You house-mother! you will go your way, but your traces will remain in your family, the good you have done, or the bad, these cannot be wiped out. You who have done any dishonest act, spoken falsehood, dealt deceitfully, all your dishonest acts, and false words, and deceitful dealings, will pass away, but the traces will remain, and God will look narrowly at them. You have been given talents, intelligence, physical strength, spiritual opportunities; these pass away, but not their traces. You have been a boy, a youth, a man, and are now old. Each age has passed away, but not the footsteps, they shall not pass away. What you did when first you got your reason, your childish acts, are passed away, but not the results. Your actions when young,--did you yield to your passions or conquer them? those acts are passed away, but not the results. In your manhood, what have you done in your family, what example have you set? You are now old and white-headed. Vigorous manhood is over, passed away, but the footsteps, the tell-tale footsteps remain. CONCLUSION.--Now then, considering this, I urge you sincerely to live each day as if the last, to live so that you may not be afraid of your footsteps that will betray of what sort your life has been. LXIII. _THANKFULNESS TO GOD._ Harvest S. Matthew xxii., 21. "Render--unto God, the things that are God's." INTRODUCTION.--David says in the 8th Psalm, "What is man, that Thou art mindful of him: and the son of man that Thou visitest him? Thou makest him to have dominion of the works of Thy hands; and Thou hast put all things in subjection under his feet, all sheep and oxen; yea, and the beast of the field, the fowls of the air, and the fishes of the sea." I. The mastery of man is even more extensive than this; he controls the elements. The earth he tills and makes it bring forth fruit and corn, as he wills. He will not suffer it to run wild, but schools and disciplines it. He hedges it about, and ploughs, and sows, and reaps. He burrows into it for fuel and for metals, he cuts roads over its face. The air he makes use of also, it is his servant to turn the sails of his wind-mills, to grind his corn, it fills out the sails of his ships to carry his merchandise from one land to another. Fire, that most terrible of elements, he dominates and makes into a slave, it smelts the ore for him, it raises the steam that drives the engines, it heats his house, it lights it, it cooks his food. Water is also under control, he leads it where he will in canals and pipes, he makes it turn the wheels of water-mills, it is used for drinking, and for washing. And yet even that is not all. Man controls the lightning, he makes of that a slave to carry messages round the world, and he carries it into globes, and lights streets and railway stations, and shop windows with it. When man was innocent in Eden, the beast and birds were his familiar friends, but when he sinned they fled from him. God said to Noah, "The fear of you, and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of the air, upon all that moveth upon the earth, and upon all the fishes of the sea, into your hand are they delivered." See how the animals have been subjected to man; the horse, the useful cow, the dog, and the sheep have been tamed, the horse which once roved wild submits to have a saddle on his back, and a bit in his mouth. The cow gives her milk and her meat, and the sheep both wool and meat, for the nourishment and the clothing of man; the dog, which, when wild, was fierce as his brother the wolf, has become the friend and companion of man; even the gigantic elephant has become docile, and the Indian mother leaves her babe under its charge, that the monster may brush away the flies from the sleeping infant with a branch. We have dominion over the birds in the air, we have tamed the domestic fowls and make them yield us their eggs, and we keep the pigeons about our homes that we may kill their young; we snare and shoot them as we will, their high flight and rapid wings are no protection for them. We have dominion over the fishes of the sea, we strew the net and bring them in for our food; we hunt the whale for his oil and for the fringe of bone in his mouth; we dive into the sea after the oyster that we may extract from it the pearl, and we strip the shell of its rainbow-coloured scales to inlay therewith our furniture. II. What follows from all this? Is not this enough to make man proud, to exalt him in his own conceit? unfortunately it would seem so, but the lesson I would draw from all this is, Render unto God that service which is due to God, as all inferior creatures render unto you the service you demand of them. An old writer (Hugo Victorinus) beautifully says--"It is as though the earth appealed to man, and said to him, See how He loved thee who made me for thee. I serve thee because I was made for thee, and do thou serve Him who made thee and me." Suppose a king were to take you by the hand and lead you into a beautiful estate, and say to you, "Here, I give you this mansion, with the park and the fields, and the woods and the river, you may do what you will with it, hunt, and shoot, and fish, and till the soil, and pasture sheep, and cattle, I give it you all freely and entirely, I ask of you nothing but that you will recognise me as your king and not join my enemies in fighting against me." Then, I think, you would embrace the offer with the greatest eagerness. Now this is just what God has done to you; He has brought you into the world, and has given you power over the beasts of the field, the fowls of the air, the fishes of the sea, He has given you the earth to grow your corn, and on which to pasture your cattle, He has given you dominion over the elements, and all He asks in return is that you will recognise Him as the Giver, and not join His enemies. "Render unto God that honour and homage that be God's." III. Balaam, the prophet and seer, rode on his ass to go to Balak, king of Moab. God had forbidden him to go and curse the chosen people of God, but Balaam, moved by covetousness, and eager for honours from the king, started on his way to go. Then an angel stood in the way with a drawn sword to stop him. Balaam did not see the angel, but the ass did, and fell down under Balaam. Then he cried out in a rage, "I would there were a sword in mine hand, for now would I kill thee," and he beat the ass savagely with his stick. Do you see! Balaam expects the ass to obey him blindly, to go where he chooses; but he himself will not obey God, and refrain from going whither he is forbidden. How is it with you? Is it not with you as with Balaam? You expect the earth to yield you what you choose, and are wroth if it withholds the crop; but you do not yield to God what He desires, and show a harvest of good fruit unto life everlasting from the seed of Grace He has sown in you. You expect your sheep to give their wool, and your cows their milk, and to obey you, and come into the fold, or go out into the pasture, docile to your will. But do you act thus to God? Are you docile to His will? Do you eat that heavenly food He has prepared for you in the pastures of his Church? You expect your orchard to yield you apples. Do you show any fruit of the Spirit? When Christ comes and searches among the leaves of your profession, does He find any fruit of good works there? CONCLUSION.--Then, Brethren, in your farm-work, bear this ever in mind, that as you expect the fields and the cattle to yield to you what is your due, so render also yourselves unto God that honour, that worship, that gratitude, which are God's. LXIV. _THE FORMATION OF HABITS._ School Sermon. Proverbs xxii. 6. "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." INTRODUCTION.--There is a district, high up in the Black Forest, where the ground is full of springs. It is a plain some nine hundred feet above the sea. Thousands upon thousands of little springs gush out of the soil; you seem to be on the rose of a vast watering-can. Now, from this great source flow a good many rivers, and they flow in very different, nay, opposite directions. There rises the Danube, which runs East and dies in the Black Sea, and also the Neckar and a hundred other tributaries of the Rhine, which flows West, and falls into the North Sea. A very little thing on that plain--a slight rise or fall in the ground, this way or that--decides the direction in which a river shall run. You can easily make a little stream run this way and feed the Rhine, or that way and swell the Danube; but after a few miles all control over the stream is gone. It runs on, and will run on to the end in the direction you have given it, or which it took by chance when it started. It is the same with children. All these little springs of vigorous life are bubbling up round us, and whither shall they flow? To the right or to the left? To Life or to Death? We can give them their direction now. A few years hence, and all power over them will be gone. SUBJECT.--As a habit is formed in early youth, so it remains to old years. I. We take our children and we train them for God. God has given them to us for this, to train them as citizens of His kingdom. We neglect our duty if we neglect this. He placed the flexible little characters in our hands to bend this way or that, expecting us to make them grow upright and not crooked, to look to Heaven, instead of trailing on earth. They are a solemn trust for which we must give account. It would have been one of the chief woes of Hell to Dives, if he had his five brethren there to reproach him for having set them a bad, selfish, luxurious example. Think how bitter your future state would be, if your children in the outer darkness were to be for ever reproaching you, "You brought us up to the world and not to God, you fed our bodies but not our souls, you set before us the transitory life as the one thing to care for, and did not teach us to lay up treasure and toil for the life eternal!" Think, also, how it will increase your happiness to have your children in Life Eternal, and to receive their blessing, and experience their gratitude for having so taught them, by word and example, that they have through life walked in the narrow path that leads to the gates of Heaven. "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." You teach your children obedience, in order that when young they may form the habit of submitting to rule. When they are old they will not depart from it. God has His laws. God exacts their obedience. They learn now to bow to the commands of a teacher whom they can see, they will obey afterwards the invisible Divine Teacher. You teach your children order and method when young, that they may live an orderly life when they grow older. You teach them self-control now, that they may be able to exercise it in greater matters hereafter. II. Habits of obedience, and order, and self-control, acquired in childhood will be confirmed in manhood, and will remain to the end of life. A man of business, who has spent his youth and manhood in looking after his shop, or attending to his office, is miserable in old age when he gives up his business and retires; he misses the old routine, he would be happier if he could go on in the accustomed round till he drops. The days hang heavy on his hands. The relaxation to which he had looked forward, and for which he had worked, palls on him. And these are habits of industry. Bad habits retain a stronger hold on man. A bad youth and a bad manhood make a vicious old age. Many an old man who had led a disorderly life retains his wicked habits, though they afford him no pleasure. He goes on in vice merely because vice has become habitual, not because it is pleasurable. Eli, as we read in the 4th chap. I Sam., when aged ninety and eight years, and his eyes were dim, that he could not see, "sat upon a seat by the wayside watching." What is the meaning of this? The old man of nearly a hundred has his chair brought outside the temple, and sits there looking up the street, and that although his eyes are so covered with a mist that he can see nothing. The sacred writer does not say that Eli sat on the seat by the wayside seeing what went on, but only straining his sightless eyeballs up the street. If we turn back to the first chapter, we shall see that this was a habit with Eli. When he was many years younger, some thirty years before, when Hannah came up to Shiloh to entreat the Lord to have mercy on her and take away her reproach, we read "Now Eli, the priest, sat upon a seat by the post of the temple of the Lord." And his eyes, then sharp and clear, were peering about and watching all that was going on, and examining the faces of the people who were coming in and going out, and were engaged in prayer. One would have thought that common decency would have kept him from watching the face of the poor woman who was engaged in prayer, but Eli had not acquired control over his eyes--indeed, his great amusement was peering into people's faces and guessing what was going on in their minds. Hannah wept as she prayed, "And it came to pass, as she continued praying to the Lord, that Eli marked her mouth. Now Hannah, she spake in her heart; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard,"--then with that want of charity, and tendency to think evil which so commonly goes with peeping and prying--"Eli thought she had been drunk." He saw what was not--drunkenness--in the weeping, sorrowful-hearted woman, but he saw not the wickedness which was in his disorderly sons. Here is an illustration of how habits last. Eli had acquired this habit of sitting in the gate and watching what went on, when he was a man in the vigour of his days, and when he was a very old man and blind, the habit continued. He had his chair brought out into the street that he might look up and down it, though his eyes were dim and he could see nought. III. Now the great advantage of a school to a child is that therein the child is taught good habits. The child has got certain talents, but cannot turn these talents to any good account without application. In school he is given the habit of application; that is, of keeping his attention fixed on one subject. But application is not all; to that must be added perseverance. No advance will be made in anything, unless a man first applies his mind to his task, and then perseveres in it till he has fulfilled what he undertook. Nothing is more common than to begin a thing and to be disheartened at the first difficulty, and to throw it up. At school the child is given the habit of perseverance. That is not all. No work will be carried out thoroughly without order and system. You see people who work all day and work hard, but never make any way, because they work in a muddle, and with no regular plan. At school the child is given the habit of orderliness. I have instanced only a few of those necessary habits which we try to impress on children at school. We endeavour to impress them on the young, because then they are open to instruction, their characters are soft and take impressions, as warm wax does from a seal. We train them up in the way in which they should go, trusting that when they are old they will not depart from it. We teach what is good, that good may become a habit with them, and when anything has become a habit, it sticks. It is not shaken off. LXV. _RELIGIOUS ZEAL._ Dedication Festival Ps. lxix., 9. "The zeal of Thine house hath eaten me up." INTRODUCTION.--David spoke the truth. The one great desire of his heart was the glorification of God by the erection of a temple befitting His worship at Jerusalem. Although he had plenty of cares to distract him, yet he never had this out of his heart. "I will not come within the tabernacle of mine house; nor climb up into my bed; I will not suffer mine eyes to sleep, nor mine eyelids to slumber; neither the temples of my head to take any rest; until I find out a place for the temple of the Lord; an habitation for the mighty God of Jacob." One of the first things he did after he was anointed King over Israel, was to go to Kirjath-jearim, and bring up thence the ark of God from the house of Abinadab in which it had lodged. And David went before the ark playing his harp, and his heart was so full of joy that he danced before the ark, singing and striking the strings of his harp. Then Michal his wife, Saul's daughter, looked out of a window, and sneered at him, "and despised him in her heart." She was one of your cold-blooded people, with no enthusiasm in her, with no zeal for God, no heart for God's glory. Better David dancing for joy of heart, than captious Michal with a contemptuous curl of her lips. David collected great treasures to build the temple, and directly he was at peace, his heart began to yearn to be about the work, and build to the glory of God. "See now," he said, "I dwell in an house of cedar, but the ark of God dwelleth within curtains." But the word of God came to him by Nathan the prophet, forbidding him to build, because he was a man of blood, the temple was to be erected by his son Solomon. Nevertheless, David collected for the temple, and above all, composed his beautiful psalms to be sung in it. The gold and the cedar that Solomon set up are gone, but the Psalms remain, and have passed over to be the heritage of the Church. SUBJECT.--How striking is the zeal of David, and how little zeal have we for God's glory, and for the adornment of His house! Let us consider to-day this zeal for God's house, and for those things that appertain to the worship of God, and tend to His glory. I. Of all the pathetic stories in the Bible, there is one which has struck me for its singular pathos, yet it is one which I dare say has escaped your notice. You have heard of the zeal of David, how his enthusiasm carried him away, out of himself, so that he forgot his royal dignity, and danced before the ark. You have heard of his bitter disappointment, how when through many years he had longed and planned to build the temple of God, his desire was not allowed to be carried into effect, but the honour was reserved for his son. The zeal of God's house had eaten him up. This was very touching, I think, but I remember a still more touching story of zeal for God's house, and God's honour, and that, not in a great man, but in a humble woman. Eli, the priest and judge of Israel, had two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, and they were priests in Shiloh. They were utterly bad, profligate men, utterly regardless of the honour of God, and they disgraced their sacred calling by their shameless lives. They snatched from the sacrifices the best portion of the meat, and kept it for themselves, and they dishonoured the tabernacle by their shameless immoralities committed with those women who came to Shiloh to worship. In a great battle fought between the Israelites and the Philistines, the ark of God was taken, and Hophni and Phinehas were both slain. Then the news was brought to Eli the priest, and the old man, when he heard it, fell back off his chair in a fit, and broke his neck and died. The news also reached the wife of Phinehas. We do not know her name. We only hear of her this once, but by the one little incident recorded of her, we know what she was. "The daughter-in-law of Eli, Phinehas' wife, was with child, near to be delivered, and when she heard the tidings that the ark of God was taken, and that her father-in-law and her husband were dead, she bowed herself and travailed; for her pains came upon her. And about the time of her death, the women that stood by her said unto her, Fear not, for thou hast borne a son. But she answered not, neither did she regard it. . . And she said, The glory is departed from Israel, for the ark of God is taken." Good, God-fearing, loving heart! Not a thought about herself. She is in great suffering; not a cry from her other than this, "The ark of God is taken!" They tell her that her father-in-law, old Eli, has fallen and broken his neck, "But she answered not, neither did she regard it"--only she said, "The ark of God is taken." They tell her that her husband has been killed in the battle. "But she answered not, neither did she regard it"--only she cried, "The ark of God is taken." They brought to her her new-born child, a son. What dearer to a mother than the little infant to whom she has given life? But no, even that does not move her mind from the one absorbing idea, "She answered not, neither did she regard the babe," only she cried, "The glory is departed from Israel, for the ark of God is taken." Then the women who stood by said to her, "What shall the name of the child be, thy husband who should have named it is dead, thy father-in-law is dead, thou must name it." "But she answered not, neither did she regard it,"--only she cried, "The glory is departed from Israel." Then the women that stood by said, "So shall the name be," and they called the child Ichabod, which means, "Inglorious." A few minutes later, and she was dying, and the last murmur on her lips, and the last thought of her heart were, "The ark of God is taken." I say this is a singularly touching story, for it shows us a woman whose whole soul was imbued with zeal for the glory of God, and that woman was the wife of a man whose whole priestly career was one of dishonour to God. II. Now I have given you two striking instances of zeal for God's honour, one in a man, and one in a woman. Have you any such zeal in you? Are your thoughts at all taken up with God's church, God's altar, God's worship? Are you eager that all should be beautiful and seemly in the temple of God? Does it pain you above every other pain when you know of something which is to the dishonour of God and of His Church? Have you any zeal at all like that of David? Have you any self-forgetfulness in what concerns His honour, like that of the nameless wife of Phinehas? I think if there were a little of this zeal, so many of our churches would not be untidy, neglected, ruinous. There would not be moth-eaten altar-cloths, and worm-eaten altars. There would not be green mouldering walls, and broken pavements. There would not be a service slovenly, unmusical, irreverent, or if not irreverent, at least unworthy of the glory of God. In heaven flame the golden candles, and the censers fume with frankincense. In heaven the seven lamps ever burn, and the altar shines like the sun. In heaven the angels and the saints cease not day nor night in singing praises, and bowing in worship--and we! how do we show that we love God's worship? The zeal of God's house does not eat us up, we do not even know what it is. LXVI. _THE MEETING HEREAFTER._ Funeral Service. Joshua iii. 17. "And the priests that bare the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord stood firm on dry ground in the midst of Jordan, and all the Israelites passed over on dry ground, until all the people were passed clean over Jordan." INTRODUCTION.--That must have been a striking sight! The whole of God's people passing over Jordan. On one side, on that of the Wilderness, a crowd pressing down, and going into the deep river bed, on the other, those who had traversed, rising out of it, and spreading out on the high bank, looking down and watching those who descend into the bed, and cross through it to rejoin them. They stand in a blaze of light. The sun is setting, and the whole sky behind them is flaming with golden clouds, the light strikes in the eyes of those on the further bank, and they look down into the dark channel and shrink, it is immersed in shadow, but then again, they look up, and see the glory, and the forms of their fathers, and brothers, and mothers, and sisters, and children standing there, steeped in light, and they pluck up courage and go down. They have no cause to fear. In the midst of Jordan stands the Ark of the Covenant, and it will not move from that place till the last has passed over. SUBJECT.--That story may serve for our comfort. We, like the Israelites, are on our journey, and we have to pass through the dark bed of the stream of Death, before we can enter into the promised land. And we have two subjects of consolation. (_a_) We have the Ark of the Covenant standing in Jordan to secure the path. (_b_) We have our dear ones watching and waiting for us on the farther shore. I. We have the Ark of the Covenant standing in Jordan to secure the path. "Lo, I am with you always," said Christ, "even unto the end of the world." That Ark signifies His abiding presence in His Church, which stands between the living and the dead, a Church on this side, militant, on the other, triumphant, a Church on this side made up of good and bad, of tares and wheat, of sheep and goats, on that side, a Communion of Saints. The Ark and the priests stood in Jordan, so does God's Church and priesthood ever remain, so long as the world lasts, and that world will last till the number of the elect has been made up, till the last of the people of the Lord is passed over Jordan. The Ministry will remain to teach the way of the Lord, and point the path through the river bed, and to cheer those who are downhearted, to lift up the finger and bid them look to the further shore, and to the glory there, and to those who stand on it watching. The Sacrifice will remain, the atoning Blood for the remission of guilt, the altar will remain as well as the pulpit, the priest as well as the teacher, sacrifice as well as instruction. Ever throughout the year, the atoning Blood will be pleaded with the Father for the pardon of the sins of the people. The Bread of Heaven, the manna will remain, to be man's spiritual food and sustenance, and strengthen the heart for the passage of Jordan. The presence of Christ will remain, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee, and through the waves, they shall not overflow thee." Therefore, well says David, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me." II. Metabus, King of the Volsci, was pursued by his enemies. He carried in his arms a little babe, his niece Camilla. In his flight he came to the brink of a river, deep, troubled, and strong in current, and it arrested his flight. He would not have been afraid of the stream himself, had it not been for the little child. He hesitated. What should he do? He dare not enter with the babe, as he must use both arms to battle through so strong a stream. The enemy were behind. He heard their shouts! From a distant hill-top they had spied him. He could not find it in his heart to desert the little one whom he loved so dearly. Then, what do you suppose Metabus resorted to? There were a great many reeds by the river side, with his dagger he reaped them down, and he wrapped the babe up in rushes and reeds thickly round it, and tied them together with his girdle, and then he raised the little bundle in both his hands, and flung it with all his might across the river. After that he sprang into the water and swam across to the other side. He picked up the dear little bundle, took the child out, found it quite unharmed, and escaped with it lying next his heart. My Brethren! Is not this something like us?--we may have our little ones, and be called on to part with them. There lies the river, the dark rolling river of death. We must cross sometime ourselves. Safety is yonder. Danger, destruction, here. In God's name, trusting in Him when He wills it, we part with those so dear to us. We wrap them up in their white wraps, and close them from sight in their coffin, and cast them away. They are gone--over the river, and then we are ready in our turn to plunge in and follow. Now it is a great encouragement to us to follow when we know that those we love are passed and are in safety. You parents who have parted with your darlings, you have wrapped them up and cast them away. Whither? They have only flown across the river, and when you leap in and swim through, you will find them there--your Camillas, safe and smiling on you, on the other side. CONCLUSION.--Ah! my brethren, what a happy meeting that will be! Father, mother, brothers, sisters, children, whole families gathered together. What embraces! What tears of joy! What stories to tell of past troubles! What gratitude to God for his mercies shown! What thankfulness for His Ark that rested in the midst of Jordan, that supplied direction, sustenance, propitiation, comfort, and nourishment for the journey. 
22482	----	MEN IN THE MAKING by AMBROSE SHEPHERD, D.D. Author of "The Gospel and Social Questions," Etc. Hodder and Stoughton London MCMIX I INSCRIBE THIS BOOK TO TWO VALUED FRIENDS JOHN GLAISTER, M.D. PROFESSOR OF FORENSIC MEDICINE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW AND CHARLES SCARTH, ESQ., J.P. OF MORLEY, YORKS. PREFACE The addresses which make up this book are printed, almost exactly, as they were spoken from my pulpit in Glasgow. I have yielded to repeated requests that I would put them in a more permanent form than memory, or notes, can supply. There is always room for a book to young men; whether or not the book I now offer them is worth its room, is a matter about which I, possibly, am not the best judge. This I can say: There was a time in my life when I should have been helped, had I met through the spoken word, or printed page, some of the things I have tried to say as faithfully as I know how to say them, within the limits of taste and discretion. Whatever these addresses lack in thought, and in the handling of the subjects discussed, I have done my best to make them readable. In the case of the average young man of to-day, if a book does not interest him in the matter of style, any other merits it may possess will have a weakened chance of making themselves felt. If I have failed to meet this one condition of securing his attention--provided he give me a fair trial--I shall be disappointed and, to be candid, surprised. Should, however, his interest be tolerably well sustained through the ethical part of these addresses, say to the end of the chapter on "The Royal Law," I shall, perhaps, have no reason to complain. At the same time I would advise him to persevere with the rest, even at the cost of some effort. There are one or two things which should be said by way of introduction to these addresses. When the manuscript was out of my hands and in those of the printer, I was informed that Archdeacon Wilberforce had, in one of his books, a sermon on much the same lines that are found in my chapter entitled "A Devil's Trinity." I have only to say that, so far as I know, I have never seen a line from the pen of Archdeacon Wilberforce. And in this connection I should like to quote a sentence or two from the Preface to my book on _The Gospel and Social Questions_. I remark there that, fortunately or otherwise for me, I have a tenacious memory which retains for long, not only a thought which arrests me, but the form in which it is expressed. Where I have made use of a quotation, or tried to paraphrase something I have read--and this applies to the following addresses--I have indicated the circumstances in the usual way. The concluding chapter of this series is, in the main, a transcript of my booklet on _The Responsibility of God_, published by Oliphant, Anderson and Ferrier, of Edinburgh. I have to thank these gentlemen, and I do so heartily, for their permission to make this further use of it. Considerable changes are made in the reproduction; but I think this admission is due to any buyers the book may secure. I have also to mention my great indebtedness to Rev. J. F. Shepherd, M.A., of Manchester, for his help with the proofs, and for some valuable suggestions as to emendations of expression. AMBROSE SHEPHERD. 6, Thornville Terrace, Glasgow. CONTENTS I YOUTH AND AFTER II YOUTH'S STRATEGIC PLACES III THE WORSHIP OF LUCK IV A DEVIL'S TRINITY V TEMPTATION AND RESPONSIBILITY VI SELF-RESPECT AND COMPANIONSHIPS VII THE ROYAL LAW VIII 'HE WAS DESPISED AND REJECTED' IX 'WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED?' X DOES GOD HAVE FAIR-PLAY? YOUTH AND AFTER "And Terah died in Haran."--Gen. xi. 32. YOUTH AND AFTER "And Terah died in Haran." This bit of prosaic information becomes suggestive by the emphasis of one word: "And Terah _died_ in Haran." This was not his birthplace, but here he ended his days, and that for a reason over which it is worth our while to pause. "And Terah died in Haran." What of that? All people have died somewhere, who have lived and are dead. When we first meet this man, he was a citizen of no mean city. Ur of the Chaldees was a great and representative centre in its day. Rising sheer from the midst of it, we are told, was an immense tower, or observatory, from the height of which men, reputed wise, watched the movements of the heavenly bodies; and especially the moon, for the moon was worshipped in Ur of the Chaldees as the great tutelary deity of this people. Here it was that Terah lived, at this time an old man, and "to trade," as the Scotch people would say, a maker of images. His craft was in things which symbolized some form of this lunar worship, and which people bought to put in their houses. Terah had a son called Abram, who, as he came to years of thought, did not fall in very readily with this worship of the moon. He appears to have become very early in life one of an order of doubters to whom the world owes much; to have suspected, at least, that the moon was not, as the priests taught, a cause in itself, but the effect of a cause. What was that cause? What was the fashioning hand behind the effect? In other words, he had come upon the doubt which explains much of the faith and achievement of the reformers and path-finders of the world. Neither doubt nor belief has any virtue in itself; we must determine the moral quality by its expression in action. Had Abram merely begun and ended with his doubts about the moon, he would have died and been as soon forgotten as any other commonplace sceptic before or since his day. The trouble is not that men doubt, but that they are often content to do nothing else. It may be better that they should believe wrong things, than that they should cease to believe in anything. Abram began, we imagine, to talk to his father about his misgivings, and notwithstanding the fact that Terah's trade was dependent on the popular religion, he seems to have yielded with something like enthusiasm to the greater personality of his son. Eventually they determined to leave Ur of the Chaldees and go, no matter how far, until they came to some place where they could worship in the new light which had come to them, or, as we should say, according to conscience. It was a formidable undertaking, for they knew not their destination--if even, indeed, they knew their direction. Some one--I forget who--has traced their route through Larsa, where men worshipped the sun; through Erech, where they worshipped the planet Venus--the bright evening star; through Nipur, where they bowed the knee to Baal; through Borsippa, where they worshipped the planet Jupiter; and on and on until they came to Haran, where the people worshipped--the moon! It was not until they came to Haran, that they touched, as it were, their first footprints, and found the old religion. And this was the finish for the poor old father Terah. Whatever the motives with which he had set out on this pilgrimage, whether of conviction more or less, or parental affection entirely, he was now weary. There had been little temptation to pause before on the score of a people's worship. That of the sun, of Venus, of Baal, of Jupiter, probably did not arouse in him even a passing interest. But when, worn out in body and mind, he suddenly came upon the old religion, his journeyings after another faith and form of worship were at an end. This powerful appeal to his past, with its resurrection of old memories, old prejudices, and the pathos of old associations, was too much for the old man. No second call came to him; or if it did, he had neither heart nor ear for it. It was Abram the younger man who withstood the temptations of Haran and with the faithful went on to a land they knew not of. It was the younger who had the staying power which, when acquired early, goes through life, and rejoins it in eternity sure as ever it came to it in time. Terah travelled some six hundred miles--a big journey in those days--to get away from the worship of the moon, and in the worship of the moon he ended his years. His evening and his morning were the same day: "And Terah died in Haran." You see the thought underlying this bit of prosaic information. It simply means that the years close down the possibilities of a certain kind of moral exodus. It is in the days of your youth that you must make the "legs of iron," as Emerson calls them, for the journey which lies before you. If you wait until you get into years before you find right principles, and form good resolutions--well, even then it is better to make some start in the right direction. But why pile up the odds, that start you never will; or that you will not go far if you do? The enthusiasms of old men are as rare as they are short-lived, unless they are evolved out of earlier and worthy days. There may be exceptions. If there are, I have never known one. The rule is practically a law, that old men, who are nothing more than old men, cannot make mighty resolves and carry them through. They may, for many reasons, start out from Ur of the Chaldees; but it is not often they get past Haran, if, indeed, they ever get so far. More likely will it end in the old defeat: "I will return into the house whence I came out," which is much the same, or, in some cases, is even worse, than if they had never left it. The old man Terah would get an interesting tour; although very probably people would hear from him more about it at the end than he had ever seen on the way. He would be a much-travelled man for those days, but he never found the new religion. It was the old religion that re-found him. Understand me: I am far from saying that old age necessarily blocks the way to great attempts, or to conspicuous success in them. All history would cry out against such a statement. There is an old age we delight to honour, and which reverses the ordinary attitude to it in the general world. Instead of considering it a legitimate matter for lying about, and polite not to be aware of its presence, we make our boast in the virility which, in some men, accompanies their years until they quite shade out in a mellow maze of glory. Take some of our statesmen. Were not the mighty men of the great nineteenth century aged men, if we count age only by shadows on the dial? At a time of life when most men are honoured with a natural right to senility, Mr. Gladstone was girding on his armour for one of the biggest conflicts ever waged in the arena of our Parliament. And years after, as the struggle still raged--to see him, almost blind and deaf, looking like so much vitalized parchment rather than a figure of flesh and blood, as night after night he stood up to the agility of a Chamberlain, and the subtlety of a Balfour--each perfected to a fine art--surely never gamer, grander sight ever challenged the imagination of poet, patriot, or historian. It was a testimony to all time of what can come out of the brain and soul of a man, when the body that houses them is written and re-written over with the hieroglyphics of age. It was a fitting termination to what may be, and ought to be, the great and sacred processes of life. But Mr. Gladstone was great at the end, because all the way had been a preparation for it. This is the secret, if secret it be, which young men cannot know and master too soon. To end well, you must begin well; and you must fill in well the distance between the one and the other. Study carefully the triumph of old age in statesmanship, in science, and in affairs, and you will have to connect them with years of stern discipline and strenuous endeavour. In no case will you find strength where there has been no strain, or palm where there has been no dust. There are levels on which the truth, that "we reap what we sow," admits of no qualification. Omnipotence itself cannot make it possible for us to gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles. To attempt after a given age, and on the strength of a chance impulse, to leave Ur of the Chaldees with its old habits and associations, its old moral settings, will carry us far as the impulse lasts, but that in all probability will be only as far as Haran. And as Terah died at Haran, so shall we. It will be from moon to moon. Youth is the time to determine whether old age shall be a beautiful consummation, or a bitter regret. The threshold of manhood is the place to form resolutions that will have some chance of being kept, to cultivate the thoughts you would have ultimately become things. The serious danger is that, with the impression of a long future before you, you should merely drift in the present, and forget how inextricably the texture of to-day will be woven into the fabric of to-morrow. I am quite aware that what I have so far said is more likely to hinder than help the purpose I have in saying it. You will not question that a clear nexus runs through our years, but my teaching about it, you tell me, is needlessly severe. If as the beginning is, so must the end be, what are we to say of a man's will? What are we to say about the power and working of divine grace? While there is life, does there ever come a time when it is no longer true to say that out of it can pass the old, or into it can come the new? Surely to affirm that such a time can be is to give the lie to religion and experience. Many a young man is having what is called his "fling," who is yet quite sure in his own mind that when the time comes to accept the more serious responsibilities of life, he will change his habits and turn to ways that befit the new occasion. So we are told. And is it not true? Have we not known young men cover a considerable space of life with questionable, and even more than questionable courses, and yet settle down into exemplary domestic men and admirable citizens? Yes, we have known them, and, whatever influences have brought about the change, let us be thankful for it. But what proportion do they bear to the legions who, once in Ur of the Chaldees, have neither thought nor desire for a better country? While, again, they may leave it from anything but worthy motives. Men may be compelled to change their habits without changing their natures. It is really to multiply words to no profit to debate the question. Your instinct tells you that it would be wickedness to encourage you to take your "fling" in Ur of the Chaldees on the risk that you can get away from it when prudence speaks the word. Settle it, then, as true for you, that out of to-day walks a to-morrow; and that what you shall do with to-morrow is practically determined by what you are doing to-day. This counsel, or admonition, cannot be over-emphasized. I assume that I am talking to young men who do not intend to make a failure of life; then, I tell you again, that you must seize the one great chance you have, to make it a success. Permit me now to apply very briefly what has been so far advanced, first, to your pleasures; and, secondly, to something more important to you than old age, and that is--middle life. To everything, says the Preacher, there is a time and a season, and it must be that youth is the time for amusements and pleasures, which are not so much the privileges of youth as native to it. We are told that Darwin in his old age expressed regret that he had deprived himself of so many of the pleasures and resources of life by his concentration upon that study, the results of which have made his name so justly famous. He gave to get; but he lived to doubt his own right to pay the price. And no young man should give place, no not for a moment, to a doctrine of work which excludes his right to the joys and abandon of his years. There is danger, and very real danger, lest we should take for granted what the "Grad-grinds" tell us, that the only thing which matters is that we do work, and are not idle. Work for its own sake is not enough. It may turn men into machines--all clatter and monotony; or it may make them fussy nuisances. "A soulless activity," says Canon Ainger, "may save a man from vagrancy only by turning him into a thing; or it may keep him from idleness by making him an egotist." There is the man who, to use the common phrase, "sticks at it" with scarcely a competing thought or interest. He scorns ease, and lives laborious days. For what? I once heard it said, and I believe it was true, of a prosperous Yorkshireman, that the real pleasure he had in his money, for which he had toiled hard, was in a kind of mental calculation as to how many of his neighbours he could buy up. "I do all things that I may honour the Father," said Jesus: and work which is not under this impulse, has in it no element of permanent satisfaction. In some way every work has to be brought into a conscious relation to God, or we only swell the crowd either of self-seekers, or of the men whose toil leaves no such impression upon their character as gives sign or evidence of a sane or worthy aim and end. To give to work its essential dignity, and preserve it from mechanical routine we must bring motive into it--high and worthy purpose. There is no virtue necessarily in being always at work, but there is tremendous power in being able to work when we do work. Do not discount the old advice because it is commonplace: "work when you work, and play when you play." Master the distinction there is between having what is called your "fling," and having your really "good time." Get all the rational pleasure you can out of your young days. Let your religion be no dog Cerberus, snarling at the heels of innocent enjoyment. But never lose sight of the fact that unless you have a definite and worthy purpose, to attain which you keep your good time subordinate, that good time will have the same relation to genuine pleasure that the throbbings of an ulcer have to the healthy action of the heart. And a very plain word is needed here. Our trouble to-day is not that young people will have their pleasures and amusements; it is that so many of them will have nothing else. One who knows his day has told us, that were it not for the sporting intelligence in the evening paper, not a few of our young men would forget how to read. It is a common experience to meet young men who have been decently educated, as things go, and yet they are ignorant as babies about the social and political questions which so vitally affect the welfare of the State. Decently educated, I say, as things go. But how far is that? "I have five clerks in my office," said a Bradford merchant lately, "who probably could tell me all I want to know and more, about a horse race, a cricket, or a football match; and not one of them could translate for me a foreign business letter. This is one principal reason," he added, "why Bradford is overrun with Germans, and why the Germans are getting hold of so much of our trade." On what is called the practical side of life, the first duty of a young man is to be efficient in whatever honest thing he is doing to earn his bread; and at the same time be preparing himself for whatever surprise or opportunity the future may have in store for him. A few hours in the week given seriously to the latter, will leave an ample margin of time for recreation and amusement; and who knows what he may need, until the need is there to test what he knows? To be great on sport, and a "stick" at one's business; to be an authority on amusements, and an ignoramus about almost everything else that is anything, is the surrender of manhood, and that in a day which has no need comparable with its need of capable men. And such surrender has consequences that lie nearer than those which make themselves manifest in old age. Your next step is into middle life; and it is here where the question is finally decided whether it is, or is not, well for us that we are here at all. If a man has put little more than the rubbish of a selfish existence into his years he will, by the time he is old in them, be the victim of a callous insensibility which will carry him over into the stage beyond our human ken. An unworthy old age rarely feels much moral suffering; that but waits its awakening in the fires which shall try every man's work of what sort it is. But when a man begins to sight the middle years, he learns to know himself as never before or after. This is the stage where increase of knowledge often means increase of sorrow. It is, in truth, the sorrow of finding out our limitations which, on their first acquaintance, often seem more appalling than they actually are. While youth may be saved by hope, by what is to be, middle life is often lost in the drab reality of what is. Every youth, who is not as indifferent to his possibilities as though he were nothing more than a lump of flesh, is about to become a numeral in the world. The tragedy enters when he knows himself to be what in a sense he must remain--a cipher, merely giving value to the men who do represent the numerals. When the youth, who used to talk about having the "ball at his feet," seems to have become very much the ball itself, to be kicked hither and thither as circumstances may determine, what then? Will he show that kicked he may be, but ball he is not? That circumstances may use him, but they shall not make him? The answer to this question will very much depend upon the stuff he put into his years, while as yet he knew not his limitations. And even where middle life has won success in the things men covet, and for which they strive, it may be the success that is just deadly in its reaction of monotony. How often do we hear it said of a prosperous man, who in middle years is giving place to unworthy habits, or to ill-humour and chronic depression: "Would he had something to take him out of himself; some interest in anything, if it were but a harmless hobby." Think of a man being reduced to the need of a "hobby" to keep him out of moral mischief! What such a man, if man he can be called, really needs is some higher interest or a coffin. A hobby is well enough in its place, and much can be said for it, but when it becomes a man's only peradventure between himself and the devil, the world can probably spare him to its own advantage. The young have no little safety in their years, in the temporary buoyancy of the blood. It is when the former draw in, and the latter thins out, that dangerous things get their more obvious and, too often, fatal chance with men. It is when the first fires of passion have slowed down, and the ties of early friendship have relaxed, and the outlook appears to leave us with the problem, not how to live, but how to exist. I tremble at times when my experience suggests the dangers of those long stretches of emptiness, that so easily fill with the sinister and the unspeakable. I would pray, as a man in mortal terror, against the bottomless pit of a motiveless existence. This is why I put emphasis upon the threshold of manhood; not that I believe it to be the most dangerous part of human life, but because I believe it is the time to safeguard the part that is. It is the time when habits can be cultivated, and resources acquired, which can make middle life as crowded with interest and good to enjoy as any of the earlier years, and infinitely more useful. But this is possible only when the middle years can command their own. Just as many of us "postpone life until after our funeral," so may we find ourselves in middle life discouraged and sullen because we cannot do what we would, only because we have not done what we ought. Men do not always go under because they cannot do things. They fail, not because they do not know what it is well to do, but because they do not choose to attempt it. And why do they not choose? So far as this question affects middle life, it is largely because so few of us have the grit to face its difficulties, and attack them, when we have to do it with the serious handicap of self-made disadvantages. It is while you are young that you must lay up these stores of living material for the after years; and this is the significance of it all--you can only do it, or you can do it most effectually, when you are young. As touching certain advantages, "the day after to-morrow is the only day that never comes." Have your good time, I say, and in it fear God, and fear nothing else. Keep a clean youth, and enjoy it to the full. But let the thought have its place as a goad when required, or as a steadying influence when the spirits would gallop too fast--the thought in the question: How will it be with me when my years are thirty-five or forty? That trying, and in so many cases, that fatal forty! When the youth of "rose-light and romance has faded into the light of common day, and the horizon of life has shrunk incalculably, and when the flagging spirit no longer answers to the spur of external things, but must find its motive and energy from within, or find them not at all." See to it while you may, that these forces, when needed, are there, or whatever else you may gain will be but a mocking remembrancer of the greater thing you have lost. I have but another word to add. If there are, as I trust there are, middle-aged, or even old men, who would leave this Ur of the Chaldees, with all its unworthy past, and make for a better country, do not, I plead with you, be discouraged by anything I have said. Remember, I have been talking to the young; but God forbid that what I have said to them should seem to exclude hope for you. Make your start, though you should get no further than Haran. In a matter so supreme, it is better to have tried and failed, than never to have tried at all. But you need not fail in any degree that success is possible to you; and a success is possible to you in which are issues of everlasting life. Whatever the past, build up with courage and humility what you can do. God willing, and by His grace, you have time yet to prove how a consecrated determination can stretch out life's limits, and wondrously redeem no little of past failure. YOUTH'S STRATEGIC PLACES "I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong."--1 St. John ii. 14. II YOUTH'S STRATEGIC PLACES "I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong." This description "young men" probably indicates that those to whom this part of St. John's letter was addressed were seriously engaged in the work of grounding their character, forming their habits, disciplining their inclinations, and confirming the election all must make between good and evil. He was not writing to those who had failed in the struggle, and had accepted their defeat. He was not writing to those who, beaten, knew that they did not intend to try again, and had thus written themselves out of the progressive forces of the human world. He was writing to those who had shown promise of better things, who were evidently pressing "toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." I do not take it that the Apostle credits the young men to whom he wrote with having won a victory which is never finally decided on this side the grave, or with having attained to a moral altitude outside the reach of their years. When he says, "I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong," he may be understood as referring to a strength consistent with, and yet peculiar to, their years--a strength the whole force of which was set in a right and healthy direction. I want now to deal with the first part of this particular reference to the strength of young men. It would be away from my present purpose to weight this address with any attempt to say what the writer means when he tells them that, "The word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the wicked one." I shall take the words of our text out of their context, and use them as a topic: "I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong." Strong in what sense? How may we give the words a useful setting, as a remembrancer and a call to the young men of to-day? In the first place, one great constituent of strength which is, or ought to be, the special possession of young life is--Hope. It is a common remark that as we grow older we become chary of convictions, and content ourselves with opinions. I should be sorry to believe it, but I am obliged to admit that age, even with good people, changes to a large extent their centre of gravity from hope to faith. It is suggestive to mark the order of these in St. Paul's famous procession--faith, hope, love. Love, he says, is the greatest. But he ranks hope before faith. Why? The passage in which this classification occurs is part of the distinctive literature of the Bible. Hence terms are not used carelessly. What is the difference between the two? "Hope," says David Hume, "is the real riches of human life; as fear is the real poverty." Hope is that which is "at the bottom of the vase," as the ancients said, when "every other thing has gone out of it"--by which, as it has been suggested, they probably meant the human heart. "While hope trembles in expectation, faith is quiet in possession. Hope leaps out towards what will be; faith holds on to what is. Hope idealizes; faith realizes. Faith sees; hope foresees." [1] In other words, faith is apt to be content with what it has; hope ventures out to annex the wider provinces of the imagination. Faith is the prose of our religious life, hope is its poetry. Unless you think about it, this will glance off your mind as a distinction without a difference. It is more than that, in the sense I am using the distinction. The loss of youth is not so much in the flight of years, as in the stealing away of our hopes. We may be justified by faith, but we are saved by hope, in theology and in life. There are twenty men who have faith in Christ for one man who has hope that His Spirit will ever incarnate itself in the life of the world. As we get older, most of us, I am afraid, are only too glad to keep our faith in great principles, without hoping much for them. The usual product of experience, and more especially experience gained in attempting some great reform, is, as Dr. Martineau remarks, "a certain caution and lowering of hope. When the spent enthusiast looks back upon the riches of his early hopes, and the poverty of his achievements, he is tempted to regret the magnitude of his aims, and advise a zeal too temperate to live through the frosts of inevitable disappointments." Nothing more damps the ardour of young people with good stuff in them than this caution called wisdom, which so often creeps over us as we advance in years. Then it is so frequently the case that the precepts that most naturally flow from our lips are the negatives that stifle hope. "I can no longer afford convictions," said a man to me once, "I have come to limit myself to opinions; they can be held at less risk, and changed at less cost." And the disposition to regard both faith and hope in great things as subject to the same insecure and miserable tenure, is apt to grow with the growing years, until we come to sympathize with nothing which cannot take out a policy of assurance. When we are young we may be susceptible to the new, only because it is new to us. We are ready to welcome in book or speech anything which charms us with a novelty we readily mistake for originality. After we have crossed a line it may be well that most of us should become a bit obstinate, a little stiff in our beliefs, lest we be blown about by every wind of doctrine.[2] At the same time, there is always the danger of becoming so rigid in our opinions and faith as to permit no horizon of hope. There are multitudes, in our churches and outside them, who, from want of the hope that saves, are dying from the top downwards. And among them is an increasing proportion of young men. I hear them boast that they have no ideals, no hopes or aspirations that are above the earth earthy. For once, at any rate, they have a conviction, and it is, that man lives by bread alone, that his life is in the abundance of the things which he possesses. They are too "knowing" to be caught prisoners by ideas, too much "men of the world" to concern themselves about the "Utopias of religion." And they call it strength. Strength! It reminds one of the bitter remark of an historian on the march of the Roman legions: "They make a solitude, and call it peace." Strength! There are those in perdition at this moment who could tell them that what they call strength is the stupidity which adds to sin the increment of a huge blunder. The young man who is strong is he who has the moral genius of his years. He does not deny that man lives by bread, but he does deny that man lives by bread alone. He has faith in the upward trend of the world; and he has the hope which can give to faith its adequate translation. He does not believe that there are two Almighties in the world and that the devil is the greater; that sin shall breed sin for ever. He does not believe that the many must drudge to the limit of endurance and starve their higher nature as long as the world lasts, that the few may taste the sweets of culture and opulence. He does not believe that brute force shall for ever trample splendid intelligence underfoot, or that we must always stand on the margin of the dark river of wrong, in the unfathomed depths of which lie mysteries of terror--the despair of man, the sorrow of God. He has hope, that mighty dynamic--God's pledge to the young and unspoiled soul of a coming day when all that is false and unbelieving and wicked shall be cast into the consuming fire of divine holiness. He has faith in the great day of the Lord; and with the splendid optimism, the hope peculiar to his years, he cries: "I can, and I will, hasten the coming of my Lord." This is one great element of a young man's strength--hope in goodness, which goes so far to sustain the toil that can realize it. "I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong." Another factor in this strength is--Freedom. I hardly like the word, but I want to express by it immunity from certain responsibilities. Young men, up to a given period, are, as never again, free to sacrifice for what look like the forlorn hopes and apparently lost causes of humanity. "My six reasons for taking no risks," said a man in the American Civil War, "are a wife and five children." The reasons which in one man may resolve themselves into prudence, in the case of another man, differently circumstanced, may be nothing better than cowardice. Some years ago four men stood on the cage at the mouth of the shaft that penetrated to the workings of a Yorkshire coal-mine. There had been an explosion, and over forty men were imprisoned in what seemed likely to be their grave. The brave fellows on the cage knew they were taking their lives in their hands, but they stood calmly waiting the signal which should lower them into a possible death. While some detail of the machinery was being adjusted, a fine stalwart young man, some three-and-twenty years of age, forced his way through the crowd, and, seizing one of the rescue-party, literally flung him out of the cage to the pit-bank, and before the people could recover from their astonishment the men were being lowered through the pathway of the deep. Then they realized the meaning of the action. "He did it," said the man who had been so summarily handled, and his voice shook with emotion, "because I have a wife and bairns." The younger man was free from responsibility; he could better afford the risk. There is a very real sense in which the same consideration tells in the warfare against sin and wrong. Some of us have less to risk in taking up the challenge which the powers of death and hell throw down to every true man. I write unto you, young men, because from your relationship to circumstances you are more free to accept risks. We often hear men lament, and it may be sincerely, that they cannot afford to face the practical logic of their social, political, and religious beliefs. They shrink from the consequences of the good fight of faith. "Had I only myself to consider," says one, "how gladly would I sacrifice myself to attack this wrong or that iniquity." We need offer no opinion about the moral quality of such a position; enough to say that it is idle to ignore, or even to underrate, the force of it. There are circumstances which are too strong for most men after they have put themselves in a given relation to circumstances. Let me say a word here about circumstances, which will seem to contradict some things you will find in this book, if you have interest enough in it to read it through. A Glasgow minister some time ago made a stand against a considerable minority in his church over some matter that, as he said, involved a principle for which he should fight. It cost him many of his more wealthy members and adherents. "Not many of us," I said to him after, "have your courage to take so serious a risk." "Nor should I have had it," he answered, "had I not means that make me independent of my salary." It was a candid admission, and it reaches a long way. The strength of this man was in his position quite as much as in himself; and this is probably true of the great average of us. Circumstances may mean possibilities, more often than possibilities mean, or create, circumstances. What we can do is not only determined by what we bring into the world, but by what we find when we get here. Give, then, whatever courage is native to you its full purchase, by whatever favour you have in circumstances. It is here the young man has a great advantage; he is at an age when he can afford risks; let him use it before his years are mortgaged by other demands. In public life he can base his efforts on the fact that there are tremendous evils that need resistance, that there are sacred causes which need assistance. He can afford, as never again, to close with the truth that there is a corporate life, a public virtue, a humanity of the body politic, with laws, responsibilities, and duties. In social life he can refuse to bow to an arbitrary and often empty fashion, or to immolate himself on the altar of mammon. He can be a living protest against the tyranny and lust of money, which are eating away the heart and destroying the soul of Christendom. He can stand for the sane and rational ideas and habits of life, without which society but personifies the unscrupulous and vulgar parvenu. And in religion he can accept the teaching and obey the commands of Christ without any overwhelming temptation to escape them behind some exegetical device or the plea of expediency. He can devote the rose bloom of his years to great principles, before he has had time to catch the infection of a commonplace belief in God. He can be a soldier of the Cross, and have himself placed in the forefront of the battle. He can go down into the pit to rescue the perishing, and take daring, awful risks for the Captain of his salvation and the race of which he forms a part. I have written unto you, young men, because you can afford to be strong. A third, and for my present purpose a closing consideration in a young man's strength is--Audacity. I might call it courage, but it is that plus something else. It is courage carried to a point of daring that amounts to what I have called it, audacity, or, as the world would call it, foolhardiness. It is the merciful blindness which will not see difficulties; it is the glorious recklessness which will not be stopped by them. It is neither blindness nor recklessness; it is the baptism with which a young man must be baptized whose life is penalized for the Cross. When a certain woman came into the presence of Jesus, and anointed Him with an ointment very precious, He answered the selfish criticism of some of the disciples with the unqualified remark that "long as His Gospel should be preached, this that she had done would be told for a memorial of her." To these disciples it is probable that the answer sounded like a benediction on waste. Jesus saw in the deed an abandon on the side of good, which on the side of evil makes evil so popular and, as it seems at times, almost universal. No one but a woman, unless it were a young man of true fibre, would have broken the vessel. Your middle-aged or old man would have cautiously taken out the stopper, that the costly unguent might have been expended economically, even on the Saviour. But this woman, in her uncalculating devotion, broke the vessel, that all its contents might issue forth in one consecrated gift of love. And it was what this broken vase symbolized that explains, or does something to explain, the unmeasured recognition of the action. This is the moral temper of the young man whom St. John describes as strong. He does not fumble with the stopper in the vase-held forces of good. "If you believe," he cries, "what Christ lived believing and died believing, then break the vase, and do not keep as a private possession powers that are meant for the world. Do not keep as a personal luxury what is meant to be the family treasure." Such a young man is the living exegesis of Christ's revolutionary word: "The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force." When he is warned not to expect too much from human nature, not to put too much trust in men, not to waste his strength in trying to remove mountains, not to jeopardize his chances on the threshold of manhood in trying to serve a world which, so far from thanking him, will very effectually resent his most disinterested efforts on its behalf; when he is reminded of some once aspirant who, young and confident as he, set out to reform the world, and now cynically affirms that the only wisdom is to let the world go to the devil in its own way--the young man who is strong says: "I acknowledge your facts, such as they are, but they are not facts for me. I, too, may be beaten in the right, but I would rather be that a thousand times over than succeed in the wrong. It is the temptation of the wicked one to conclude that, because history is said to have repeated itself hitherto, it must needs repeat itself for ever. I do not live on history; I live to make history. I believe that I was sent into the world new from the fashioning hand of the Creator, and that I have a new man's work to do. If my life of faith on the Son of God seem recklessness to you, wanting in proportion and eccentric, hold your opinions for all they are worth; but you shall not influence me by your abandoned hopes, you shall not even chill me with the east wind of your selfish ethics." These are the young men we need to-day. Strong in hope, in position, and in daring; strong in the strength which they find in their years, and the strength they put into them. And the Church has a right, society has a right, the nation has a right to look to young men for a greater and a better future. We who are older have a claim to look to you to confirm our faith in the survival of Christianity as the living force of the future. We need fresh leaders and men who incarnate new forces. We need, in fact, a certain style of man--we never needed him more. We want young men who are inspired by the truth that ideas are realities, and that scepticism about high principles is the most destructive form of ignorance. We want young men of vision in business. Not cranks, not men who are responsible for their own failure in whatsoever their hand findeth to do; but men who see that the institution of business is God's present plan for distributing wealth, comfort, and intelligence. We want men in law who shall realize that the function of the legal profession is to build up justice and ensphere it in the will of the people. We want men in politics who have a clear conception of what the kingdom of God is, who recognize that the work of legislation and legislators is to think and speak and act for the interests of that kingdom--in the spirit and on the basis of Divine Fatherhood and human brotherhood. And in the pulpit we want men who have in them the vision of an Isaiah, a Paul, a John, and a Luther; men who shall make themselves felt as perennial gifts to their day--to tell us what we can do and what we ought to do, to lift up a voice for the eternally true, amid the clamour of self-interest and cries of craven fear. "The world needs nothing more; the great English-speaking race has no need comparable with this need of men who can carry the spirit of vision, which is really the power of achievement, into every phase of our individual and collective life." [3] Many of you represent great possibilities. You are, or you ought to be, at the flow-tide of an untainted enthusiasm. Your life should be a moral heat, which radiates in ever-enlarging circles of hope and service. But there are fires which, once they are allowed to slow down, can never be rekindled. There are large and generous beliefs at twenty-five years of age which, unless we cultivate and keep ourselves in the love of them, thin out like wasting magic, and no necromancy can ever conjure them back again. You young men have potencies of hope and enthusiasm which, if denied expression, strike inwardly and corrupt the source out of which they came. And now, I repeat, is the time when you can give a true man's best hostages to the future. Now is the time to make the most of your strategic places in life. Almost before you know it, your power to determine many things will have merged into obligations that not one man in fifty is free to disregard. While it is called your day--before you are compassed behind and before with a commonplace that locks up so many lives like a numbing fate--signalize your record by some bit of heroism. If you would have posterity call you wise, seize your chance, while you have it, to be God's fool. Find the faith that can help you to play a man's part in the world; find in your faith the power which can grasp you by your weakness and sin, and lift you into strength and achievement. The Church needs you. For of all the institutions in Christendom the Church is stifled with safety, propriety, and conventional wisdom. It is the world which seems to monopolize the sparkle, the daring, and the picturesque. Respect us, your seniors in years, if we have done anything worthy in the past; but do not let it influence you unduly if now we seem to you perhaps timid and conservative. Time will bring most of you to the same place. But if--which God forbid--you do little after, do at least something now to redeem your career from impotence or from miserable aims that all end in selfishness. Find, I say again, on the threshold of your years, the power that can grasp you by your real requirement. Your first need is not wisdom, but grace; it is not education, but regeneration; it is not an ideal even, but a Saviour. Wisdom, education, and moral enthusiasms are but the machinery of our uplifting, the driving-power is Life. You know the Source of this power; you know the way to Him of Whom it is written: "In Him was life; and the life was the light of men." Now is your accepted time-- "Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute: What you can do, or dream you can, begin it; Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Only engage, and then the mind grows heated; Begin, and then the work will be completed." [1] Robert Collyer. [2] Dr. Maclaren. [3] Dr. Lyman Abbot. THE WORSHIP OF LUCK "The lot is cast into the lap; but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord."--Proverbs xvi. 33. III THE WORSHIP OF LUCK It is reported that Prince Bismarck once and again attributed some of the most remarkable successes he had won in diplomacy to the circumstance that he had used truth as one of his greatest resources. Well aware of the fact that truth, for its own sake, was not the first thing that was expected from him, the use of truth gave him the tactical advantage of knowing how almost inevitably the opposite diplomacy would interpret it. He told the truth in order that it might be acted upon as something else. To adopt his own characteristic phrase, he "used the truth." If half the truth, or an untruth, would have served his purpose better, either most likely would have been adopted and as readily used. "You call that witty," said a great statesman once, when some one related to him the saying of a well-known politician to the same effect--"you call that witty--I call it devilish." It is a just description. If the report is reliable that Bismarck, even in grim jest, spoke of truth in this sense as one of his great resources, the confession ought to cover his name with infamy. I do not commit myself to the statement that he ever said this; but whether he did or not, he is credited with acting upon what is a very general impression of how truth _may_ be used. With vast masses of people it has become perilously like a conviction that strict integrity, while good and desirable as an ideal, is yet too much of a risk for the purpose of what is popularly known as practical life. The advice said to have been given by a Yorkshireman to his son who was entering on a business career would, I imagine, be widely acclaimed as common-sense: "Get money; get it honestly, if you can--but get it." We preachers tell young men that whether or not they get on in business, they cannot afford not to go up in character; and they are not in the world very long before they realize that its hopes in this admonition are but inverted fears, that the shake of its head is a scepticism which troubles not to articulate itself in words. A French cynic counsels us to always deal with a friend to-day on the possibility that he may be an enemy to-morrow. And there is a wide and deeply-rooted prejudice in favour of holding the imperatives of integrity on the same terms. Our very language in this direction betrays us. We talk about "smart" business men, "smart" professional men, and by the adjective we may mean men who, though "keen," are yet honourable in their methods; or we may mean men who are just as scrupulous as the law of the land or the arbitrary criterions of society oblige them to be. And young men feel the impress of this widely-shared sentiment in a way particularly vivid. They have, indeed, small chance to escape it. The world is profuse in its explanations of why men fail, but it has no mercy on the man who fails. It has its cheap jargon about inheritances and environment, and then kicks the man who is preached as their victim, into perdition. Our operations may not be nice, but young men soon find out, or they think they do, that it is success, not charity, which covers a multitude of sins. Hence the new commandment: "With all thy getting, get success"-- "Get place and wealth, if possible with grace, If not, by any means get wealth and place." The clamant need of our day is a clear teaching that shall appeal to us all, but especially to young men, as to what are the things that cannot be shaken, the things inseparable from a human life that is worth living. It is easy to part with our fine sense of integrity, but, once it is gone, it is the hardest thing in the world to recover. There are more senses than one in which we may speak of riches that are "beyond the dreams of avarice." The most valuable possession any man can have is the fight, either in his own conscience or to the world, to affirm himself to be an honest man. And the position I shall maintain in this address is, that there can be no sure success without honesty. Nor shall I speak about "absolute honesty" or the "strictest honesty," for I agree with those who say that there is but one degree of honesty. It is not a quality with grades and modulations. As well think, or try to think, of grades and modulations in the chastity of man and woman. Honesty, like chastity, is, or it is not. We are often told that, from the lowest possible commercial standpoint, honesty is not only the best policy, it is the only policy. Whether or not it is the only policy depends upon the meaning we import into the term; of this I am sure--it is the best policy. But I shall not urge this doctrine upon you from the lower standpoint. That might do more than insult your intelligence; it would, I trust, offend against your moral self-respect. I assume that you all would hold it true with Archbishop Whately when he says, that though "honesty is the best policy, he is not an honest man who is honest for that reason." If, then, these latter remarks can carry the weight I want them to bear, what of those that have preceded them? How are we to explain a sentiment which is virtually a religion, having this one article for its creed: that honesty, while good as an ideal, cannot be invariably relied upon for practical concerns? How is it that so many men have to discover, when they are no longer young, that the thing which has passed from them and which they cannot recall is, after all, the one supreme value they possessed? There are many explanations of this tragedy, for tragedy it is, and not the least of them is, that so many young men have but one conception, one definition of success. These are men, and one is tempted to think at times that they are not so much a class as a people, who want material success and seek nothing else. They have no other standard by which to judge the thing behind the word. Not what we are, but what we have, if the latter is substantial and declarative, is the only idea which multitudes have of success. In a clever character-study of a well-known public man we are told that, "As far as he has a philosophy at all, it is this, that merit rides in a motor-car." It is a definition which fosters the impression that success can be secured the more quickly and surely by methods that are bound up with smartness, chance, or luck. It is with the last of these I would come into somewhat close quarters. And let me admit, in the first place, that there is such a thing as luck, using the word in its common acceptation. In what is called a scientific treatment of the subject in hand I ought to say, as exactly as I can, what I myself understand by luck. It will leave abundance of room for criticism if I venture to define it--as some advantage that comes to a man independent of his moral worth, his native gifts, or of any equivalent he has rendered for it of industry and self-denial. That some people have such an advantage it would be useless to deny. Two youths, let us say, enter a business house about the same age, and at the same time. They are, as near as can be, equally matched in equipment to command success. In this respect there is little to choose between them. One begins entirely on his merits; he has no influence behind him to open doors before him as by some invisible hand. The other has influence; no matter what it is, or how it works, he has it, and it operates distinctly in his favour. A few years after, and the latter has far out distanced the former in position, salary, and outlook. And the reason is not the capacity of either; it is the arbitrary advantage, the piece of luck that one has had over the other from the start. "He has not much ability," I heard it remarked lately of a young fellow who, just having been licensed to preach, had also received a "call" to an influential church, and the remark elicited the significant answer: "No, but whether he has ability or not, his father has position and influence." This hints to us why certain men, if they do not fill, yet hold the positions they do. Take some men in high places, say in the political world. Recall a few names, if you can, of men who have held great positions in the State within the last quarter of a century, and does any sane person contend that in ability they stand out sheer above ten thousand good average men who crowd about them? I think it was Sydney Smith who said it was about equal to being canonized to marry into certain families. And a man would need to be a very emphasized fool quite to spoil the advantages of a long line of position, privilege, and family ascendency. Take, again, a more typical case of what I mean by luck. It came under my own notice. A cloth-worker in Yorkshire, by carelessness or inadvertence, raises the nap of a given fabric a shade above the regulation height. He is dismissed, and the cloth is laid aside as spoiled. A French buyer comes in the place, and casting his eyes on it, instantly sees for it a future. That touch of heightened nap has done it. The manufacturer has his wits about him, and what a week before was a mistake is now a new and valuable design which, in a couple of years, makes him what some of us would regard as a substantial fortune. We are usually told that to admit the operation of this questionable factor in human affairs, called chance or luck, is inconsistent with a belief in the moral government of God, or, as we may prefer to call it, the reign of law. If this is so, how are we to read those old words that "chance happeneth to them all"? If we seriously contend that everything which happens in our human life is in accord with God's plans in us, and working through us, then I see not how we can refuse to hold such fore-ordination responsible for the grotesque, the irrational, the sinister, and the wicked in our actions. I could understand the objection were it limited to Nature, because that is a sphere in which it is the uses of things, and the uses precisely, which are the most obvious, and these compose, when taken together, a mighty reciprocal whole in which part answers to part, constituting an all-comprehensive and wondrous whole. There is no place in Nature for chance. Every particle of air is governed by laws of as great precision as the laws of the heavenly bodies. It keeps its appointed order, it serves its appointed ends. Nature never breaks out of its place. It has no such power--but human nature has. Man has enough free-will to make him responsible for what he does with it, and in the exercise of this mighty prerogative enters the element of chance or luck. We cannot establish free-will by rules of logic, we cannot gainsay it on the score of conviction. It helps us to interpret the great in human life and history, and what is sometimes even more to the purpose, it helps us to account for the little. As it has been well said: "It would save us much mental perplexity if we could assert without qualification that all is law, that everything happens as God ordains." But God cannot make two mountains without a valley between; and He cannot give us free-will and withhold from us at the same time the freedom to make mistakes. The contradictions in human life do not yield to verbal simplicities, and, whether we like it or not, we have to acknowledge that this something called luck is a force in human events. But let me say, in the second place, that there is nothing more easy than to exaggerate its extent and importance. Out of a hundred happenings that are generally attributed to luck, if we could find the genesis of each one and trace its evolution or unfolding, we should probably not find more than one that could be associated with the things that happen by chance. The case of a man who achieved what is called a "lucky fluke" out of a piece of spoiled cloth is perhaps the only instance of its kind on record in the history of cloth manufacture. I have admitted that there are cases where advantage falls to a man which cannot be explained by anything he deserves, or has done to win it. And the advantage, such as it is, often works untold hurt as an example. Just as the winnings of one gambler may tempt a hundred others to their undoing, so a single case of coveted luck is apt to encourage young men to transfer their hopes of success in many directions, from law to luck. You see here and there a man who accumulates a large fortune from beginnings that look as much like pure chance as was that piece of spoiled cloth. You see men close to you put into positions that have been secured, not by training or ability to fill them, but by the accident of influence, or, as you may think, by even more reprehensible methods; and your first impulse is to say that it is not merit but luck that holds the better cards. But let the impulse pass and bring quiet thought and good practical sense to this problem of success in men, and you will find that the instances are comparatively few where it is not about as wise to speak of it as luck as it would be so to characterize the law of cause and consequence. When you are discussing a man's success or his position, do not stop at the mere fact that he has it--that is obvious enough; try to know how he got it, and you may be surprised to find how little, after all, luck has had to do with it. In one of the most quoted of our Lord's parables we are told that "they that were ready went in to the marriage feast." And this right of entry was not a matter of luck. They went in because they were ready, and the others were left out because they had made no effort to be ready. And so if you would understand a man's success, know what he was doing while the opportunity tarried, while his chance seemed to wait, while his "psychological moment" appeared to linger. Our fate or our fortune is not in great occasions; it is in our readiness to seize the opportunities that make great occasions. We frequently hear young men complain that they have not had a chance. Are they always sure of that? How often is it that their chance has been and gone, without their knowing it? "There are scores of young fellows in our place," said a large employer of labour lately, "who would be in vastly better positions than they are, had they worked as hard to be ready for the better positions as they are anxious to have them." There are multitudes of young men who appear to have lost sight of the distinction there may be between wishing for an opportunity and being ready to use the opportunity when it presents itself. As Sir Frederick Treves once said to the students at the Aberdeen University: "The man who is content to wait for a stroke of good fortune will probably wait until he has a stroke of paralysis." He who waits for good fortune without doing his part to make it possible, opens up the way for lazy habits and morbid conclusions about the arrangements of life. Luck in any serious business or profession is not so much the coming of opportunity as readiness to make the most of the opportunity when it comes. A man was speaking to me not long ago about one of the leading commercial men in this city. "What is there in him or about him to explain his success?" asked the man, and he answered his own question with the round assertion that "it was all luck." It happened that I had some reliable information about the man under discussion, and I want you to have it. Thirty years ago he was working from ten to twelve hours in the day as just an ordinary workman. At the close of each day's toil he had his programme of studies, which, in its range and character of the subjects attacked, would not have disgraced a good student at any university. Eventually his attention to business and his marked attainments won for him the recognition of his employers, which meant in after years a place which was ultimately a leading place, as one of them. Yet this was the man who was said to have won his success by a lucky turn of the wheel. I admit his advantages. I grant you that he showed himself to have brains and will above the average endowment of these great possessions. But let me ask you to mark this: he might have left his gifts unused, as so many of us do. It is probably not gifts, in eight cases out of every ten, that determine position, but our use of them. We have infinitely more in us than our will and determination ever bring out. How few of us know the rich things God has put in our nature; and we verily live and die in ignorance of rare deposits of wealth because we do not work the inward mines. This young man was wiser. He did not wait for his opportunity to turn up, he turned up the opportunity. Because he neither slumbered nor slept while it tarried, he was prepared to make the most of it when it presented itself. And I am persuaded that something like this is the true explanation of practically the whole of what thoughtless people set down to luck. What we call fore-ordination is verily the present which we have made out of the past. We first make habits, and then habits make us. In our to-day walks our to-morrow, and in a very solemn sense there is no "dead past." As it has been well said, "the tree that falls so disastrously is no accident; it had the fall determined a century ago in some injury it received as a sapling." [1] There is much less luck in human affairs than is popularly supposed; and, if there were more than there is, it would, in the next place, be moral insanity to put our trust in it. "Nothing walks with aimless feet." Our life is no lottery. We may make foolish experiments with it, but we do so at our own risk. It is no plaything of chance, it is a stern responsibility which is determined by law that brooks no interference and excuses no indifference. The proverb tells us that "our lot is cast into the lap, but the whole disposing is of the Lord." And just as the dark forces that sweep through our life are not necessarily hostile forces but form part of the order of the world, so things that we regard as haphazard, merely cast into the lap of chance, may be divine agents working out a marvellous equality of opportunity throughout our human life. I affirm it without a shadow of qualification, that chance has no place whatever in the responsible formation of character, and the formation of character is the decision of destiny. Beware, then, lest in playing with this _ignis fatuus_ of chance you are trifling with law, for law will not spare you. You young men cannot make up your mind too soon that there can be no sure success apart from uprightness and integrity. You cannot too early in this life settle it as an immovable truth for you, that unswerving rectitude is not only a great and desirable ideal, it is the only practical course you can afford to follow. Goodness, I say again, is the only success, and I shall not try to save this statement by fencing the word "success" with any arbitrary definition of my own. I just mean by it what any man means by it who has a healthy moral perception of things. Success, like honesty, has but one degree, and as nothing is worthy to be called life which cannot be affirmed of God, so nothing can be called success which is not the resultant of right-doing. Every advantage which you would try to scheme or sneak or coerce in face of the protest of conscience, has in it its own curse and its certain defeat. Understand me: right-doing will not necessarily help you to make a fortune or achieve some great position. You may not have the special gifts to do either. Such gifts are something not ourselves which we might easily have been without. Neither religion nor morality promises to bestow these gifts, any more than religion or morality claims to regulate the colour of our hair or the inches of our stature. But when said, there is yet a wonderful power in right-doing. The man who does the right because he believes in it and loves it, whether it is called successful or not, is always bringing out far more than he thought was in him. The faithful doing of daily duty continually reveals opportunities which, used with readiness and a good conscience, act upon life with a perpetual and gracious benediction. Then what about the end? It may seem a far-off cry to talk to you young men about that. But the end will come, and you will need nothing then which you do not need all the way. The end will only emphasize the need--the need of a good conscience. The day is coming when all tainted success will mock, as only a bad record can mock, when there is but time left to regret, and none to retrieve the past. "I am getting old," writes one, "and I am wealthy; but I would part with every shilling I possess, and take my risk for bread, to be at peace with my own conscience." Trample under your feet the immoral side of the maxim that nothing succeeds like success. Success is not always in hitting the things at which you aim; it is the good conscience that you are aiming only at right things. Let your success be goodness, and goodness will be your success. Leave luck to fools, and act as though it had no existence. Believe that character or manhood, without which nothing great is possible, is the content of your endowment put out to full advantage through grace and will. Believe that every man, worthy to be called a man, has in him the promise of the gradual supremacy of character over the accidents and happenings of circumstances. Be, then, your own luck. Link your life in Christ to God, and stand up to all the world and say-- "Perish policy and cunning, Perish all that fears the light. Whether losing, whether winning, Trust in God and do the right." [1] Rev. Thomas Templeton, M.A. A DEVIL'S TRINITY "Know ye not that ye are a temple of God?"--I Corinthians iii. 16. IV A DEVIL'S TRINITY There are expressions taken from the Bible which, by length of popular usage, become, as it were, independent either of their setting, or of methods of exposition. This usage has its length of days, not always in the sense of the expression so much as in its sound. Those of you who have been accustomed to listen to Christian preaching will have often heard appeals to your manhood, to self-mastery, to kingship over your habitudes, rounded off with this question: "Know ye not that ye are a temple of God?" In this way it has passed into what I have called popular usage. And whatever it may be as exegesis, it is good admonition. If we may speak of a house made with hands as a dwelling-place of the Most High, we may also claim an equal sacredness for this mortal temple which is the crowning achievement of His creative power. For myself, I have never had the least sympathy with a teaching that almost amounts to a vilification of the body, and which is at the basis of much that passes for religion, both Christian and pagan. Our body is a gift worthy of the Giver. We can do much to mar it in ourselves, and through us for others. Hitherto the one perennial idolatry of the world has been destruction; and if one thing has escaped this insanity less than another, it is the human body. But for all that, we do not deny that a picture may be a work of genius, because any madman could destroy it in less time than it takes to suggest the possibility. Much is said and written about the duality that is in us; and many of us are Manichean without knowing technically what the term means. The two parts in the same self are represented as East and West, and "never the twain shall meet." We must understand, however, what we mean by this bisection of man. Between the carnal and the spiritual there must be no compromise and there can be no peace. But carnality is not in the body, it is in the principle that uses the body as its medium and expression. We say much about "sins of the flesh"; as a matter of fact there is no such thing. Sin is, before it is wrought out through the flesh. It is not the body that commits adultery or gets drunk, it is the creature which owns it. The same Apostle who tells us that the "flesh lusteth against the Spirit," also speaks about the "redemption of the body"; which means that as the latter can be degraded, so can it be honoured by him who uses it. Hence the people who weaken the body to strengthen the soul begin at the wrong end. Let them guard the life, and the strength of the body will become an agent of pleasure and service, not of sorrow and defeat. It is surely better to ride a fine steed well under control, than find our safety only because we mount a hack. I have heard young men complain bitterly about the disproportion between their bodily passions and their will-power. They overlook two things--first, that will can be acquired, that an act of will means more will; and, secondly, that passion in itself can be, and is intended to be, a great and precious possession. The absence of passion may mean an anaemia, which virtually cuts us off from some of the finest possibilities of human life. Our bodies are part, and the highest part, of a cosmic order which is "sinful only when it refuses to be spiritualized." If we regard the body as an exquisite instrument provided by our Maker for the translation of the things of the Spirit, then so long as the Spirit working by grace is the master, we can hardly attach too much importance to the body as a temple of God. "If any man defile this temple," says the Apostle, "him shall God destroy." The ways in which it can be defiled are endless, as some of them are fatal. For my present purpose there are three which I want to urge upon your serious consideration. I must try to compress what I have to say about them into one address, because the first I shall mention is something about which no clean-minded person would choose to write or talk without having, what he conceives to be, the gravest reasons for so doing. In this case, the fewer the words the more effective they may be, if they arrest attention, arouse thought, and make some headway with the conscience. There are three ways, I repeat, in which we may defile this temple, and the first I will venture to speak about is the sin of Impurity. And when I say I will venture to mention it, I quite realize that I am taking some risk. He who would speak with authority and with wisdom on this subject to a mixed audience, should possess a poet's gifts in the art of putting things. But some one must speak, and to whom does the duty fall, if not upon him whose calling it is to stand between the quick and the dead? If the good work of the world must wait to be done by perfect men, the lease of evil has a long while to run. It is, in truth, a sad reflection which should stir up strong protest in every earnest soul, that this sin--so deadly in its nature--should be practically safe so far as the pulpit is concerned. In many cases this is a result of sensitive timidity, or it may be an affectation of refinement which is but veneered coarseness. If it be the first, it should be respected but not yielded to; if it be the second, it should receive no indulgence from us. The great Hebrew prophets, and the Supreme Teacher Himself, did not surrender this stronghold of the soul to the evil one from a shrinking which, if a man cannot conquer, he is no preacher, and still less to a mental indolence that will not seek out acceptable words through which to convey a warning. I speak as unto wise men, and submit it to your judgment whether the preacher who has to any extent the ear of young men can afford this eternal silence concerning a subject that so vitally affects character, society, and the race to which we belong. There are many reasons why this sin of impurity seems to be on the increase. The old order of town and country is fast breaking up, and practically the whole migration and emigration is to the former. Britain is fast becoming a series of congested centres of population. One consequence is the increasing number of women and girls who find it terribly hard to survive in the pitiless struggle to exist. And we know what this means in so many cases. It is no secret how the scanty earnings of a growing body of girls are eked out. This is not a matter on which to dwell, and while it is serious enough to compel some very searching thoughts, I refer to it in order to say how much I want to see the day when every calling, profession, and trade in which a woman can earn her bread and efficiently make her way, shall be open to her equally with a man. The education of our girls should be the care of parents and the State, every whit as much as the education of our lads. There are positions in which I should not care to see women, and hence I would work all the harder to bring about the economic conditions in which sex, and the means of livelihood, can have some fitting correspondence. This I say, that he who would exclude a woman because of her sex from any place where she can turn to honest account her capacities and industry, is the enemy of women. To the extent you restrict what is called the sphere of a woman who is dependent upon her own toil, you set up temptations which every man worthy the name of man should sacrifice much to make impossible. There is also the growing reluctance of young men, more especially in the upper and middle classes, to undertake the responsibilities of married life; so rarely now are they content to creep before they walk. They must begin where their parents leave off in position, appearances, and comforts. This often means to defer marriage until these can be secured; but it does not always mean that these men keep a clean record in the meanwhile. A sinister consideration which has much to answer for in the existence of a class of women which, in turn, takes a terrible revenge on its makers! Nor are parents always as free from blame as they might be. I have known fathers and mothers who had the reputation of being good men and women, sternly forbid their daughters to engage themselves to young men who had most things to recommend them, except too much means; and I have known them encourage the advances of men whose past and present should have excluded them from any decent home--only because these men had money. My purpose, however, in these remarks is not to discuss the sources or temptations to impurity, so much as to say a faithful word to young men about the thing itself. Permit me to counsel you to face the truth and not to fear it, that past a given age in your life and up to another the cravings of our lower nature are tremendously strong. If you would fight the good fight for a clean manhood, make no mistake about the task that lies before you. These cravings implanted in a healthy man or woman are in themselves beautiful and right. All turns upon the control of them. If Nature could have let us off more easily the conflict would have been less searching; but nothing weaker would have secured the perpetuation of the race, and all that it involves in struggle, anxiety, and self-sacrifice. A young man came to me not long ago to ask for my signature to an application he was making for a certain position. He told me in a few words about the years he had given to the fitting of himself for the place he was seeking, and how anxious he was to get it, because, as he said, he wanted to be married and to make a home for himself. As he talked to me there was something so clean that looked out of the eyes of him, while at the same time he gave me the impression of so modest a self-efficiency, that my entire sympathy and heartiest good wishes were won for him. I mention this incident because I want to hint much that I cannot put into words. As you sight the years of responsibility you will, if you are wise, prepare yourselves by industry, thought, and control, with a view to married life; for marriage, among other things, is the natural, the honourable, and the divine provision for the legitimate cravings of our nature. Whenever I hear a man speak sneeringly of marriage, if I have to conclude that he says what he feels, I may not think him a fool, but I strongly suspect that he is a blackguard. "He who attacks marriage; he who by word or deed sets himself to undermine this foundation of our moral society, must settle the matter with me, and if I do not bring him to reason, then I have nothing more to do with him." So wrote Goethe, and I echo his words in your hearing. Keep marriage before you as a sacred goal, and as an incentive to put out the best there is in you in order to reach it. Do more than this; resolve that when you enter this covenant you will carry into it as clean a conscience about the past as you expect her to have who gives her happiness into your keeping. One sex can substantiate no claim to licence, or even indulgence in this matter, that can be morally denied to the other. There are events in life that are worth more than it costs to meet them well; marriage is pre-eminently one of them, and you can, if you elect to do so, enter it unspotted men. Get control of your imagination. Be lord over your thoughts. You cannot, as an old Puritan writer says, "prevent the birds from flying over your head, but you can prevent them making their nests in your hair." Which means that while you may not be able to prevent given thoughts from darting into the mind, you can forbid their finding a home there. The danger is not in what comes, but in what is permitted to stay. You have some sense of the training that is needed in certain parts of your nature; and if you join that training to the help of God, you can not only cast evil cravings out of your life, you can do something that is harder still--you can keep them out. Be careful about companionships. Have no friendship with him who boasts of his "amours," the "affairs of the heart," that he can sustain at the same time. Shun, as you would a pestilence, the man of unclean speech. Let it be a truth with you which must not be questioned, that the truest indication of nobility of character is reverence for womanhood. By the sweet and holy thoughts of your mother, by your sacred love and wishes for your sister, I would remind you of words in which the "wisdom of many buried ages lingers": "Keep innocence, keep purity, and do the thing which is right, so shalt thou be brought at the last to thine end in peace." May you watch and pray, that you yield not to temptation. May you watch and pray, that you enter not eternity with that stain upon the soul which no tears of your own can ever wash away, or time blot out of the memory. Another way in which we may defile this temple of the body is by the habit of Betting. We usually speak of "betting and gambling," but the latter term includes and covers transactions so wide in extent, and complex in their nature, as to make it impossible for me in this address to do more than refer to them. It must be understood in the few remarks I purpose to offer on this subject, that I confine them to what I have called the habit of betting. I shall not affirm that betting is necessarily a sin, but I do state it as my conviction that its tendency and results are practically always in that direction. William Cobbett--than whom no man has ever written more sensibly to young men--says that "betting is always criminal in itself, or in what it leads to. The root of it is covetousness, a desire to take from others something for which you have given, and intend to give, no equivalent." These statements may be debated, but they appeal to me as essentially sound. A young man says: "If I choose to risk a sum of money which I can afford to lose over a bet with some one else who can afford to do the same, what has talk about equivalent got to do with it? What, or where, is the wrong in such a transaction?" This is a test question, and I am disposed to answer it by saying that I do not think any young man who takes himself seriously will urge it; and when put on a lower plane, the closer you examine it the more rotten it is found to be. Is it wrong to cultivate and indulge a habit that inevitably leads to bad results? And that is what betting does, apologize for it as you may. Putting aside for the moment any considerations about the money you can afford to lose, you cannot afford, either in your own or in the interests of the community of which you are a part, to take the moral risks that are involved in betting. It is to insult our intelligence to deny that, comprehensively speaking, the basis of betting is cupidity, and cupidity of a particularly dangerous kind. There may be exceptions, but they are scarcely worth mentioning; whatever may be the inception of the habit of betting, it almost inevitably roots itself as greed; and it is greed that consumes character like a furnace. It is the black altar on which everything worth being must suffer immolation. I was told some time ago of a place of worship which had a billiard-table on its premises. Provided at the suggestion of the minister with the best of intentions, it was soon turned into a means of betting. The managers were obliged to take the matter into serious consideration, and out of a regard to the susceptibilities of the young men who used the table, they decided not to prohibit stakes upon a game, but to insist that all winnings should be handed over to the Hospital Fund. The room was soon comparatively deserted. The interest was not billiards, so much as billiards plus the money won or lost in betting on billiards. When I am told that to stake a trifle upon a game is not for the sake of winning money, so much as to give the due seasoning of excitement to amusement, I have to remark that in a few cases this may be so, but it is not the explanation of betting. Almost entirely it comes to mean the desire to win money for which we have given, and intend to give, no just equivalent. That almost deserted room on the church premises tells the truth about the whole squalid business. Almost any kind of amusement, not accompanied with betting, is, to an increasing number of people, as insipid as water is to the palate of a brandy-drinker. In the case of young men the habit does two things: it gives rise to false and ruinous impressions, and it murders the soul. As touching the former, it tempts a young man to think he can get a living, and a flourishing one, without working for it--a greatly coveted science in these days. It seems so much easier to put money in the pocket this way, than by honest toil with head or hands, or both. The notorious fact that betting strikes at the root-principle of worthy and strenuous labour, is not the least of the vicious features of this many-sided evil. It also creates the most hopeless form of selfishness, and it grows by what it feeds on. The avarice of betting destroys the best part of us. As I have said, it kills the soul. Who, indeed, can call that which is left in the confirmed gambler, a soul! It is rather, as one well describes it, "a shrunken, useless organ, a noble capacity sentenced to death by an ignoble passion, which droops as a withered hand by the side, and cumbers Nature like a rotten branch." To my thinking, it is a waste of time to ask, and it is an abuse of time to discuss the question, wherein the wrong or evil of betting consists. The practice has evil consequences, and evil consequences only; and they necessarily become the more evil the more widely it is diffused throughout society. What other proof of wrong does a right-minded person ask? My estimate of the effects of betting is such that I would neither employ nor trust any man who is addicted to it. I hope and believe that I am talking to young men who have never touched this dangerous thing. Continue to be wise. Others, it may be, have ventured a little way. My message to you is, turn away from it, another step may make retreat impossible. As you value the things that rightly enter into life for attainment and possession--honest enterprise, true success, worthy ambition, upright character, peace of mind, and hopefulness of outlook--bind these words about your neck, write them upon the table of your heart: "He that getteth riches, and not by right, shall leave them in the midst of his days, and at his end shall be a fool." And once more, we may defile the temple of the body by Drunkenness. Or if this term, and the state it connotes, be unduly aggressive, let me say by an intemperate use of strong drink. There are those who tell us that any use which passes it through the lips is intemperate. If I offer a word of criticism on this position, it is because I want the assent of your reason in the few things I have to say about this part of the subject before us. The first condition of permanent reform is, that it shall be founded on truth. The peculiar temptation, it has been said, of the ardent reformer is to exaggerate. Intense feeling is apt to build upon a half-truth--the unsafest of all foundations. It is one thing to insist upon the evils that are inseparable from an intemperate indulgence in strong drink, it is quite another thing to assert that it is evil, and evil only, to touch it at all. The latter order of polemic is always liable to bring about a reaction which is terribly prejudicial to the good we desire to accomplish. I have no warrant to question a man's loyalty to the forward movements of our time, who conscientiously for the sake of health, as he thinks, or social arrangements, cannot recognize it as his duty to forswear drink altogether. When a man claims his liberty to be the arbiter of his habits in his home, or in society, for me to arrogate the right to censure him may be impertinence; and, so far as I am concerned, to read him out of Christian consistency may be to make myself, as St. James puts it, a judge of evil thoughts. When a man has reached fifty years of age, and has worked hard and lived sparingly, if he should consider it advisable to relax somewhat the severities of earlier years, I have nothing to say to him unless it be to remind him of the example he owes to others, and of the need there always is to keep before us the warning: "Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall." I think it right to put this side of the question in its just evidence, and having done so I willingly dismiss it with the remark that I am not talking to middle-aged nor to old men. My appeal is to young men, and I say to you without qualification, without a suspicion of mental reservation, you do not need strong drink. There are conceivable circumstances where it may be medically prescribed, but such prescription from competent men has well-nigh reached the vanishing-point. Near as any statement can get to its ultimate, I affirm that you never have need of this drink. Keep it, then, out of your blood in your threshold years, and you will have less or no craving for it at all in those that are travelling your way. If you should imagine that you inherit the craving, there is, at any rate, one rampart which, if held, the craving cannot force--that is, total abstinence from the thing craved. Range yourselves with the abstainers, and be proud of your legion. It will be better for you in every way, whether it be in physical health, mental efficiency, moral force, or spiritual attainment. Settle it with yourselves, that there are no conditions in your life which can be called normal, and few that are abnormal, where you need the drink, and that to trifle with a thing so unnecessary, and yet so dangerous, is moral idiocy. I plead with you to take high ground in your conceptions of the duty you owe to yourselves, and to your day and opportunities. As a nation we have to conquer drunkenness, or it will go far, as it is doing now, to conquer the nation. And we have a right to look to you young men to lead us forth to this great victory. We have the right to ask you to quit yourselves like men in mighty attack upon this devil's trinity of impurity, gambling, and drunkenness. I have said little in this address on what is called its distinctively religious side. The religion is in the subject itself. Realize what it is that needs to be done in yourselves and in the world around you, and I will trust religion to take care of itself. Face this work of conquest first by self-conquest, and you will find the need of a help not yourselves and greater than yourselves. And the help will come: "I can do all things," said the Apostle, "through Christ which strengtheneth me." "I wish he would find the point again in this speaking man, and stick to it with tenacity, with deadly energy, for there is need of him yet." So wrote Thomas Carlyle of the preacher. "Could we but find the point again--take the old spectacles off his nose, and looking up discover, almost in contact with him, what the real Satanas, the soul-devouring, world-devouring devils are." I have tried, however imperfectly, yet faithfully, to talk to you about three of these "soul-devouring, world-devouring devils." Give them no inch of foothold in your life, and do a brother's part for others who, perhaps weaker than you, are waging the same conflict in the interest of the things that are sacred, and kingly, and divine. And when your brief mortal life is over you shall have the noble satisfaction of knowing that you have done something to make sure and real the power of that new day when our "sons shall be as plants grown up in their youth, and our daughters shall be as corner-stones, polished after the similitude of a palace." TEMPTATION AND RESPONSIBILITY "Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, and He Himself tempteth no man; but each man is tempted, when he is drawn away by his own lust, and enticed."--St. James i. 13, 14. V TEMPTATION AND RESPONSIBILITY St. James has been called the Saxon of the goodly company of the Apostles. It is in many ways a happy description. We associate the term with thought, rugged, perspicuous, easily grasped, and expressed in the shortest and most readily understood words. St. Peter, in a reference to the letters of his "beloved brother Paul," warns the reader of these letters that there are things in them hard to be understood, which the ignorant handle only to their own confusion. If the former part of this warning were written about the Epistle General of St. James it would be dismissed at once, as having neither point nor application. St. James does not think deeply, but he thinks clearly. He knows what he wants to say, and he says it in language that he who runs may not only read but understand. He touches most of the great themes that engage the commanding mind of St. Paul, and settles them--for no other word so well describes the process--in his own characteristic fashion. In the passage before us he attacks the most difficult subject which the mind of man can approach, and disposes of it to his own satisfaction in some forty-two of the shortest and most decisive words to be found in any speech or language. It is well to come across a man like this occasionally; he may not be profound, but he has abundance of common-sense. We see him just as God made him--genuine, sincere, calm, and clear, touching with searching words, if not quite the roots of things, yet, without a doubt, the things themselves. He was the Apostle of that myriad-headed person known as the "man on the streets." St. Paul, however, to the end of his manifold and strenuous life, was always the student and the theologian. And in nothing does the difference between these two men better illustrate itself than in their separate treatment of what is called the Problem of Evil. St. Paul speaks of evil as the law in his nature, as so entrenched there that the good he would do he does not, and the evil he would not do he does. Unless we weigh these words carefully, we overlook the significance, in the connection before us, of this term law. It implies that evil is, somehow, a part of our being; a something not our higher selves, and yet so deeply rooted in our nature, that like an unsleeping sentinel must a man be on his guard against it to the end of his mortal days. Were it not for this Apostle's mighty faith in Him who can give us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ, we should say that he stands ever on the margin of that dark river in whose mysterious deeps are possibilities of wickedness and disaster, the sorrow of God, and the despair of man. St. James would not have put himself in opposition to a single thing that St. Paul wrote about the seat and nature of evil, but to him the practical question was not its source but its control, and concerning the latter he is sufficiently explicit: "Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth He any man; but every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and by his own lust permits himself to be enticed." You will notice that in this passage the writer puts no emphasis on outward inducements to sin; he says nothing, for example, about a devil. I do not assume that he would have questioned for a moment the traditional teaching about Satan. But he will allow no man to transfer to circumstances, inheritances, temptation, or devil, a responsibility which is his own. Comprehensively speaking, he declares that if men do wrong it is because they want to do wrong, or because they are not disposed to make a creditable fight against it. So far as men know the right, the right they can do, if they will. We can readily imagine how this Apostle would handle one of the modern and enlightened critics, who appear to think they have but to refuse a name in order to get rid of the thing which the name is held to represent. "You tell us," he says to a man of this order, "that there is no devil; that to think or talk of him in any personal sense, say in the sense that Milton incarnates him in _Paradise Lost_, is mischievous and absurd. That sounds formidable, but to what does it amount? The word, or name, 'devil,' you, tell us, simply connotes a principle. Very well, take the initial letter from the word, and what have you left? You have 'evil,' and that is the only thing about which you and I need concern ourselves. In what degree have you advanced 'liberal thought,' as you choose to call it, by telling us there is no devil, while yet there is so much that is devil-like in yourself and in us all?" The Apostle leaves a legion of questions unanswered, and, as compared with St. Paul's treatment of this complex problem of moral evil, he moves on the surface. But he is himself; and, in his plain and terse fashion, he forces upon our attention one truth which, on the principle that an inch of fact is worth a yard of theory, is, if well in the mind, more useful than acres of metaphysics which leave us very much where we were. His broad affirmation is, that temptation does not, and cannot, put sin into a man's mind or heart. Temptation does not make, it only finds. "The prince of this world cometh," said our Lord, "and hath, or findeth, nothing in Me." And His Apostle takes his stand on the position, that temptation does no more than reveal the latent evil within us, waiting its opportunity to come out. I mind me of a remark I once read, and which has suggested whatever of worth there is in this address. "As to the notion," says the writer, "that our adversary the devil puts evil thoughts in our mind, I contend that neither God nor devil does it. God would not, the devil cannot. The most that the enemy of our souls can do, is to stir and use the possibilities already there." [1] This, if I rightly apprehend his meaning, is essentially the contention of the Apostle James. The temptation is to the latent evil what the spark is to the inflammable material. If the material were not there the spark would be as harmless as though it dropped into ice-water. "I can hear words, I can see things, but they will have power over me only in the measure that something in me answers to the words and the things." "I was so tempted," says a man, "and I yielded," which means that the desire already there came into contact with the opportunity to gratify it, and in what struggle there was, the desire was greater than the will-power put out to control it. To say that the sight of opportunity to do evil often makes evil done may be true, but the sight does not make the evil, it only discovers the evil ready for the sight. In the first place, then, the Apostle admonishes us, that we cannot refer the guilt of our sin, or the responsibility for moral failure, to causes and sources outside ourselves. We may do that with failure of many kinds, but never in a case of conscious moral obliquity. The Apostle James would have agreed with the greater Apostle when he said: "I find a law within me, that when I would do good, evil is ever present"; but he would not the less have stood his ground and said: "Call it a law if you like, but it is not, and is not meant to be, beyond our control. It is one thing to be tempted, it is another thing to fall." Every man is tempted when he is drawn away of his own lust and enticed. Let us allow at this point for a word of qualification, or we may find ourselves in confusion. As I have just hinted, we must not confound moral guilt and its consequences with the consequences of troubles and failures over which we have next to no control. Here is a man, let us say, who is a hard worker, temperate, enterprising, and upright. He is making headway in a certain business. But a powerful combination is formed in the same line, which offers him the two alternatives of absorption or almost certain ruin. He decides to hold out against it, to find possibly after a time that his business is gone, and with it his capital, and he himself in a world that apparently has no further use for him. Then, soured and bitter, nursing a sense of wrong, he gradually parts with his self-respect, probably takes to drink, and goes down below the hope-mark of social redemption. The man--and you probably have known such an one--may, or he may not, have been responsible for his business disasters. He had a right to trust to his own judgment, and providing that he did not choose to enter the combination, he was justified in making a struggle for his own independence. Whether his decision was a wise one is nothing to the point; it was his decision, and he had the right to exercise it. It brought trouble. That was a contingency to be reckoned in the risk; but having taken it, he had no right to sacrifice his manhood to his trouble. He might not be able to resist the strength of the circumstances that selected him for a commercial victim, but he was bound to overcome the weakness in himself to which the circumstances appealed. He might not be responsible for losing his business, but he was responsible for losing himself. We talk about people doing wrong from force of circumstances. Well, every man who knows anything about it, has felt something of the touch of omnipotence there may be in circumstances. It is not always either kind or wise to try to hearten people who are in difficulties, by concealing or underrating their force and gravity. It is a terrible experience for a man past a certain age in his life, to find himself in the grip of financial difficulties, and face to face with social annihilation. I have seen men there, and the very thought of it unnerves me. But past it all, the old saying holds good, there is nothing in life we can afford to do wrong for; and if, in the stress of circumstances, a man elects to take a wrong turn, he takes it according to the teaching of the text, because the inclination towards wrong is there, waiting its turn. We may sympathize with a man who goes down in his outward affairs and social status before the impact of circumstances he cannot resist, but we must maintain at the same time, that while circumstances may explain the trouble, whatever it is, they cannot justify wrong-doing either to escape trouble or as a refuge when in it. Victor Hugo declares that for every crisis we have in us an instinct to meet it. That is a fine saying. If any man, who has had some moral training, will obey his first instinct of right, it is marvellous what possibilities there are at the heart of it. If, finding himself after the best he can do apparently defeated, he will take heed and be quiet--that is, do the best he can with what is left, and trust God--he will also find that the resources of the old word are not yet exhausted: "Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart." He may have to lose his means, and step down in the world, as it is called, but let him do it with a clean conscience and a fine integrity; and just as "man's periods are only God's commas," so this man's going down is but a more splendid way of going up. I can imagine that nothing is more pleasing in the sight of Heaven than to see uprightness only the more enlightened, quickened, and made imperative by the troubles and vicissitudes of life. Let a man keep, if he can, what he has honourably got; but if go it must, let it go rather than attempt to save it at the cost of moral integrity. Let him say: "Empty my purse if need be, but fill my soul; take my world, but spare my life; darken my circumstances, but keep bright my spiritual outlook." And what are the slights and neglect of a passing and superficial world to a man whose life is in tune with the Infinite, who hears in secret what one day will be said from the housetops of time and eternity: "Well done, good and faithful servant"? We are not always responsible for the temptations that sweep into our life. I will go further than that, and say that we are not necessarily responsible for what the attack of temptation finds in us; that, in some cases, may be our inheritance, and in others faults of early training; but we are responsible for what temptation does with what it finds. For it cannot be repeated too often that temptation never puts evil in our thoughts, it only makes manifest the evil that is there. And hardly more do we differ in our features than we do in the things which, and through which, we are temptable. We cannot all be tempted by the same thing, but all of us can be tempted by something. You remember how Achilles was dipped in the magic water and made invulnerable in all parts except one. "Where the finger and thumb held the heel it was dry, and, though the arrows glanced off from the other parts of the body, when they pierced this one soft place he was wounded, and that unto death." Each one of us has his vulnerable place, and it is our life-business to guard it. The weak place is there; the arrow will be aimed at it, and if it find the place it is aimed at, we may refer the blame to what or where we will, it does not affect the truth, that the blame is nigh unto us, even at our own door. "Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil things; neither tempteth He any man with, or unto, evil things; but every man is tempted when he is drawn away, when he yields to his own lust, and by it is enticed, by it is overcome." Which means, in the second place, that not only is a man his own worst enemy, but that no enemy outside of man's self can vitally hurt him, except so far as he places himself within the enemy's power. This is not to say that other people cannot hurt us; still less is it to say that it is not their will and wish to hurt us. To commit oneself to such a statement would be to speak in the teeth of the commonest experience of human life. There are men, and women too, who have the will, the wish, and the power to hurt us. They are, as Christ said of this brood in His day, of their "father the devil." To say a kind word about any one, to do a generous turn for others on the road of life, would be to them a positive task. There are people with whom I would as soon think of entrusting anything I held sacred, as I would think of risking the blood in my veins to the instinct of a deadly snake. Nor is it want of charity to say this; it is want of sense to deny it. "Beware of men" is as much a word of Jesus as His command to love one another. There does not seem to be in the mind of most people any clear conception of the attitude of Christ towards sin and sinful people. And this confusion is at the bottom of many of our speculative difficulties, as well as of our practical troubles in the Christian Church. When we are convinced that a man's policy and his motives as translated in his policy are inimical to the highest interests of others, to the commonwealth of good, then we owe it to ourselves and others to speak and act upon our conviction. There are men, again, whose vested interests mean our hurt, working through institutions that are co-extensive with our civilization. Look about you on the effects of drink, and then think how attractive its surface accessories are made. Consider the men who make fortunes out of lust itself; how seductive they make the openings and avenues which end in the lethal chambers wherein are dead men's bones. We have in our midst a well-organized body of men who make it their business for money to trade upon and to tempt the lowest and most dangerous forces of our carnal nature. And what does it mean when these men are, by the acknowledgment of public sentiment, the representatives of what is called "legitimate business"? It can only mean that the sentiment which should be the active and protective side of a worthy manhood is being used to destroy it. Beware of men who say to evil: "Be thou my good!" Reckon with the fact that in so far as we stand for anything in a life worth living, there are people who have the will, the wish, and the power to do us hurt. And yet, I say again, they can hurt us vitally--mark the word vitally--only so far as we place the opportunity within their power. We have to hurt ourselves before we can be hurt by anything outside us. We have to be our own enemy to give the enemy his advantage. "Nothing," says St. Bernard, "can work me harm except myself; the harm I sustain I carry about with me, and never am I a real sufferer but by my own fault." Recall once more the word of the Lord Jesus, how He said: "The prince of this world cometh, and findeth nothing in Me." The prince of this world crucified Christ; he made Him the victim of the fear, the hate, the murderous fury of the organized religious classes of that day. But the prince of this world could not pass by a shade the extent which the saving purpose of the Saviour had Himself decreed and set fast. When the prince of this world came to the soul of the Saviour, the power of the prince of this world had reached its limits. Had there been, I will not say sin, but a sin; had there been the shade of a suspicion of what the world significantly calls a "past" in that Soul, the devil would have had his leverage, and the Divine Saviourhood would have thinned out at the most in the ordinary tragedy of a human martyrdom. The emissaries of the prince of this world could lay violent hands on the body of Christ--that was permitted for your salvation and mine; but their power became impotence when it approached the soul, and there is where the battle is won or lost. "Fear not him who can kill the body only, but fear it"--that is the better translation--"fear it, the evil principle within thee, that can cast both body and soul in hell." We are told that a man once wrote the late Mr. Spurgeon saying that unless he received from him within two days a specified sum of money, he would publish certain things that would go far to destroy the great preacher's hold upon public estimation. And Mr. Spurgeon wrote back upon a postcard: "You, and your like, are requested to publish all you know about me across the heavens." There is a world of meaning in the answer. This master in Israel had his enemies, who would have hailed as a providence any report, true or false, which could have been effectually used to strike at the message through the man. And it was because the man had not made himself his own enemy, in the past or in the present, that he could look this devil in the face and tell him that he was the devil. This is how one man came out of an encounter with an enemy outside him; take another case where the enemy of a man was the man himself. He came to me, this man, when I was working in the South of England. In a bitter temper he told me that he had been dismissed from a business house in the town. He had left a good situation six months before he entered this house, and was now ousted to make room for one who had resented his appointment from the first, and had been his enemy. I spoke, as I promised to do, to the employer, with whom I had some influence, and in whose integrity I had implicit confidence. "It is an absolute misrepresentation of the facts," he assured me. "The man," he said, "got his situation on no better than false pretences. He had not been with us a week when it was evident that he was quite unequal to the duties of the position he had professed himself competent to fulfil. It is nonsense to say that any one has ousted him; the truth is, that he has wasted his time, and thrown away his opportunity, so that in what should be his own line he has neither training nor proficiency to be other than a low-placed man." This is a single line in a large literature. It was a foolish use of the past that became the man's enemy the moment his present required something better. And this is an instance of how we can so become our own enemy, as to make it impossible for God to be our friend, in the sense we imagine God should be our friend. It would be, not the law which is the deepest expression of divine thought and love, but immoral force, if we could waste the time sacred to the preparation for a better position, and yet be ready for the position when it comes our way. God can forgive the waste, but God cannot give us back what the waste has lost out of our life. We must never lose sight of the fact that divine forgiveness cannot be vulgarized into impunity. I do not say for a moment, in the case of a middle-aged man, that the enemy he has made of himself is irredeemable and hopeless. I believe that a man's own effort and the grace of God can change this enemy into a valuable friend, if a man is man enough to accept and honour the cost of the great transformation. But how few people, past a given age, ever do quite conquer the inward foes whose sinister power is of their own cultivation? For one man who goes down before an outward enemy, there are a score who lay themselves in the dust and keep themselves there by acts that become habits, and habits that become character, and character that hardens into something that looks like destiny. This, therefore, suggests a closing word to you younger people. Many of you to whom I speak are in the making. You are on the threshold of your manhood, with practically the future in your own hands. I often recall my faltering energies in thought of a remark I once heard the revered principal[2] of my college make to a body of students who were about to enter upon their ministry: "Gentlemen," said he; "you may be able to offer twenty good reasons in after life for your failure, if fail you do. People will not concern themselves about your reason, they will simply look at the fact that you have failed." The truth in this remark is preeminently a truth for young people. The world, on one side of it, is very hard and cruel. It will apologize for failure in the abstract under tricks of speech, and cant about charity, but for individual failure it has no mercy. Listen to one who has to fight bitterly his own self-made enemies, when I counsel you to begin straight from the beginning. Beware of making to-day the enemy of to-morrow. The present, says a wise man, has always got to pay the purchase price of the past. Never let the temptation overcome you, to take a "short and shady" cut to the gratification of desire, or in the achievement of what is sought as success. Nothing in life is unrelated, and everything you do which cannot pass the bar of your higher self is not only sin, but also a blunder. It may sleep to-day, but it sleeps to wake. When you can least afford it, it will be more than awake, it will be hungry. Educate and cultivate your conscience, and never disregard its voice. Keep your heart with all diligence; keep your heart, and always have in it room for God. In the open, and in the secret of your life, watch and pray that day by day you may say with Spurgeon: "Write, if you like, all you know about me across the heavens." And while you may have your enemies in men and circumstances, they will be as nothing and vanity compared with the friend you have in God and yourself. Never seek to refer your moral responsibility for actions to influences outside you. Settle it once and for good, that a thing can radically hurt you there only so far as you place yourself within its reach. Yield yourselves to the Power that can lift you by your real need, the need of regeneration, which can so change your nature that while you are free to many things that have in them the elements of temptation, you are yet too free to want them--the Power which can enable each one of us to say: "I fear no foe, because, by the help of God, I am my own friend." [1] George Dawson, M.A. [2] Rev. Dr. Falding--_Clarum et venerabile nomen_. SELF-RESPECT AND COMPANIONSHIPS "Is Saul also among the prophets?"--1 Samuel x. 12. VI SELF-RESPECT AND COMPANIONSHIPS Ever since we could hear or notice sayings and things, and for long before we were here to do either, this text has been in the world as a kind of proverb-question: "Is Saul also among the prophets?" If a man says something which is decidedly in advance of his generally-accepted reputation for intelligence and good sense, if he surprise us by doing something which rises sheer above the plane of his average life, if we happen to find him in company that is made up of men who are his superiors in attainments, character, and social importance, we mark the unlooked-for circumstance by repeating this text. We say: "How does this come to pass? What is the explanation?" "Is Saul also among the prophets?" If we think out our impression, it means that the unexpected has somehow happened; that the man must have more in him, or about him, than hitherto he has been credited with having, or by some accident he is found where we should least have thought of looking for him. In a word, the popular interpretation of Saul among the prophets is that Saul had taken a step up. The truth is, the text may mean that he had taken one down. It all depends who these prophets were. Before we can say that it is to a man's credit to be found in a certain company, and that because he is there we must revise our judgments about him, we must know what the company is, and why for the moment he is in it. It is also well to reflect that a man may be in a company and not of it. In these prophets of the time of Saul, when we first meet them, we have the type which prophesying had first assumed on Canaanitish soil. They were men, as Professor Cornill in his suggestive book tells us, after the manner of Mohammedan fakirs, or dancing and howling dervishes, who express their religious exaltation through their eccentric mode of life, and thus it comes that the Hebrew word, which means "to live as a prophet," has also the signification "to rave, to behave in an unseemly way." These men lived together in Israel until a very late date in guilds, the so-called schools of the prophets. They were, in fact, a species of begging friars, and were held by the people in a contempt which they evidently did their best to deserve. To Ahab they prophesied whatsoever was pleasing to him to hear; and as one of them came into the camp unto Jehu with a message from Elisha to anoint him king, his friends asked him: "Wherefore came this mad fellow to thee?" Amos likewise indignantly resents being placed on the same level with this begging fraternity: "I was no prophet," he says, "neither was I a prophet's son." And so when the people exclaimed in astonishment: "Is Saul also among the prophets?" they did not mean: "How is it that such a worldly-minded man finds himself in the company of such pious people?" Their meaning is better represented in a question like this: "How comes a person of such distinction to find himself in such disreputable company?" Let it be understood that these last two or three paragraphs are roughly paraphrased from Professor Cornill's book, _The Prophets of Israel_. My opinion as to how far his reading of this proverb-question will bear criticism is of no value. It may be open to debate whether, historically, he has not placed certain hysterical phenomena recorded of these prophets much too late. But whatever scholarship may have to say about his interpretation of our text, the interpretation commends itself to my judgment, and it serves the purpose before me. It has, I venture to think, a very timely message for us all, and especially to young people. You have heard the question a score of times, and you will hear it again if you live. Hear it then, for once, as the remembrancer of this truth--that when Saul was found among these so-called prophets he had ceased to respect himself, and when a man does that he must either recover himself, or accept moral ruin. I care not what his exterior circumstances may be; just so far as he fears self-scrutiny is he self-damned, and he knows it. We talk about the "basis of character." It is this, or it is that, according as a man may regard it from his standpoint of morals or religion. We may call it what we choose, but one thing is certain, there can be no worthy character where we have not established some right to respect ourselves. And this right must be born and reared, not out of egotism, nor in religious professions, but in the findings of a cultivated conscience on the motives and actions of our everyday life. A man may have many things, and many things pre-eminently worth having--but as a question of character, if he have not the right to respect himself, that is the lack of the one thing which is virtually the lack of all. I have mentioned religious profession, and it is well to mark the commonplace but important distinction there may be between religion and our profession of it. Religion, while it is a possession of infinite worth, may be of no worth to us so long as we know that we are keeping back some part of the righteousness which is the backbone of any religion worth the name. A man's religious beliefs and convictions are his own business. They are between him and a higher tribunal than ours. What he does concerns us; and what he does he is. It may take a time to identify the true relation between the two, but our instinct decides the question, long, it may be, before the actions appear to justify the verdict of the instinct. Somehow we know through this worth-discerning faculty whether a man is trying to be what we mean when we speak of a good man. I believe that human character is homogeneous. It is of one substance and quality in each particular person. Untold mischief has been done by excusing the unpardonable in a man, on the ground that in some other directions he is a good man. If he is ill to live with in the home, or is hard and overreaching in his business, if he willingly makes life more difficult than it need be for others, this is conduct which is character; and when it is found with a profession of religion, let the man, who thus outrages religion, be anathema. But at the same time, young people should not conclude too hastily that a man is a hypocrite because he does some things they cannot reconcile with his profession. A man may be a very faulty man, and yet be a genuinely good man. His goodness does not excuse his faults, nor do his faults destroy his claim to goodness. I have known many a son judge a father very harshly, and find himself in after years glad to find a place of repentance. If you would have less reason later on to call yourself a fool, be told that as yet you are not the best judges of what are but faults on the surface of a man, and what are vices that are the man himself. The truth about others will out sooner or later; what most concerns you in the meanwhile is to know the truth about yourselves. While always trying to think fairly, and even generously about others, have you the right to think well of yourselves? "It is above all things necessary," said the late President Garfield, "that in every action I should have the good opinion of James Garfield; for to eat, and drink, and sleep, and awake with one whom you despise, though that one be yourself, is an intolerable thought, and what must it be as a life experience?" This is his way of saying that, as he puts it, above all things he must be able to respect himself; and therefore there must be no double existence, no secret sin, no side streets off the open thoroughfare of his life, which he preferred to visit when it was dark--for, although his neighbours and friends might not know about them, James Garfield would know about them, and to be this creature whom you despise was Garfield's idea of what every rightly ordered man should think of with loathing. It is the word of wise old Polonius over again-- "This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man." Let a man have the right to respect himself, and he has that which can take the sting out of his disappointments and the tyranny of victory out of his failures. He may be no great success, as the world appreciates success. He may not make much show at money-getting; the position he fills may not excite much envy. Whether or not he achieves this order of success will be all the same fourscore years hence. These things, seen and temporal, will be past and forgotten, but that which he makes himself in the use of them will remain, and that will _not_ be all the same whatever it is. I myself have been through a hard mill. I know what it is to have to struggle for self-respect over the toil by which I earned my bread. I have been counted as just a "hand" among a few hundred others, of importance only so far as it affected the cost of a certain production. But I say it advisedly, and speaking out of years which have left their mark, I would rather have this experience to the finish of my mortal days and all the way, and at the end be able to look my soul in the face and say: "There is no shadow between us, we are at peace"--rather this, I say, than any such success as I have had, multiplied a hundredfold, if it can only turn to conscience to be smitten by it. I would have you succeed; and by success I mean, for the moment, what the world means by the term. Why should you not? There is no necessary connection between a straight life and failure to win the kingdoms of this world. You can be clean and conscientious in your methods, and you can succeed if you have it in you to succeed. If you have not, scorn the trick of blaming honesty for what is really lack of ability. There may be cases where honesty handicaps a man for a time, but they are comparatively few and short-lived in their operation. But lift the definition of success to higher levels, and I assert without qualification that with the right to respect ourselves there can be no failure, and without it there can be no success. That I do or do not make money is a question of gift or the favour of circumstances; that I am an honest man haps neither upon accident nor contingency. It is the deliberate and responsible exercise of my own moral will. I may make money or position and be a failure; I may do neither and be a success. Let me counsel you to hold it true with the great President: "I must, above all things, have the good opinion of myself." Look up to God and pray: "Keep Thou me from secret faults"; then look in upon yourselves and say: "By the help of God I will make it possible for God to give me the help I ask." To thine own self be true. Put this estimate upon yourself, and whatever price the world may put upon you, time will show that you have no more valuable asset than your own self-respect. You may not be able to command the declarative success upon which the world places its emphasis, but you can always deserve it. He is the great man who can say, and mean it, I would rather be beaten in the right than succeed in the wrong. Saul had ceased to respect himself, and this very probably supplies the explanation of his being found in this questionable company. Bear in mind who, and what, these so-called prophets were, and you gather the force of the surprise with which it was asked: "Is Saul also, the king, the Lord's anointed, in the company of men like these?" For in this connection it suggests the influence of companionships. There is a well-known saying that a man is known by the company he keeps, and it is truer than many sayings that are oftener on our lips. "Do you think him beyond further effort?" I said lately to a good man concerning one in whom we were both interested--a young man fast heading towards ruin. "I am afraid there is, humanly speaking, no hope," was the answer; "he has taken up with company that forbids it." When we are young we are apt to evolve friendships out of our imagination. We do not so much prove them as create them, according to the impulses and undisciplined generosities of our disposition. It is only time, here as elsewhere, that can teach us how much there is that is human about the best of friends. But how much may have been done, for better or for worse, before we realize that the angels have gone away only because they were never here? As we get older outside friendships count for less. Life fills with other interests, or it empties in a sense friendships can never fill. If we who are older have carried into the later years one or two, or two or three, well-laid, well-tested and useful friendships, let us be very thankful, and cherish them. They are pearls of great price, for no friends are like old friends, and as they drop off we have to make the best we can of acquaintances. It is when we are young that we have the genius for friendships; they are, indeed, a necessary part of our life. And whether or not it is much use to warn young people about the formation of friendships, the warning is seriously needed. Much will be determined by affinities and by mutual sympathies. You may have to sample many friendships before you find a friend. And while it is difficult, not to say impossible, to lay down rules where affinities are involved, one thing you can do, you can allow the moral instinct to decide, as it can decide, whether in the real interests of character a given friendship is worth cultivation. If you realize that you must surrender something of your better self to be the friend of a certain person, you will be almost sure to establish that friendship at your peril. It is far harder to save your life than it is to lose it, and the chances are, not that you will lift the friendship up to your level, but that it will pull you down to its own. These remarks on the general subject of personal friendship are warranted by its importance. But there is another aspect of it which, as a question of widespread and deep-seated influence, is even more important. And it is one that is too rarely touched in or out of the pulpit. There is something which begins with only an acquaintance, but it readily grows into more, and that more is supplied at a heavy cost to the individual and to the community. In a well-known passage in one of his letters, St. Paul asks: "What concord hath Christ with Belial, or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel? Wherefore come out from among them, saith the Lord, and be ye separate; touch not the unclean thing." Both the question and the admonition apply to personal friendships and to other relationships, such as marriage, social and business intercourse. But it has another and wider application. They refer to the general attitude of our thought, our bearing towards interests and people whom we have reason to believe are hurtful themselves and represent hurtful institutions. For me to call myself a Christian, and yet be on terms of apparent friendship, of easy good nature and tolerance of men and things that stand for Belial, that are Belial, is one of the most effective ways I know of crucifying Christ afresh, and putting Him to open shame. Whatever the King of Israel might think of his company, the fact that he was in it gave to their worthlessness a new tenure of existence and to their wickedness an added licence. He did not make them better men, but they made him a worse man. And for us to appear to countenance wrong things, so as to favour an impression that possibly they are not so wrong after all; to strengthen the wickedness which would hide itself behind the sinister expression, that the "devil may not be so bad as he is painted," is to be on the side of the devil. It is to hearten the foes of good and perplex and discourage the enemies of evil. In that remarkable book, _Mark Rutherford's Deliverance_, the writer speaks of a day when politics will become a matter of life or death, dividing men with really private love and hate. "I have heard it said," he tells us, "that we ought to congratulate ourselves that political differences do not in this country breed personal animosities. To me this seems anything but a subject of congratulation. Men who are totally at variance ought not to be friends, and if Radical and Tory are not totally but merely superficially at variance, so much the worse for their Radicalism and Toryism. Most of us," he goes on to say, "have no real loves and no real hatreds. Blessed is love, less blessed is hatred, but thrice accursed is the indifference which is neither one nor the other, the muddy mess which men call friendship." The truth underlying these words is put in a severe form, but there is truth in it. Our compromises in politics, and the consequent slow and doubtful progress we make in social conditions, have many explanations, but the abiding one is, that at the moral root of things we have not, as Mark Rutherford means it, those real loves and hatreds which vitally influence conduct. Take any wrong that happens to appeal to your sense of indignation, and ask why it continues? in what does it get its lease of existence? And the answer is, the fact that we have too many Sauls among the prophets. The wrong remains because, although we do not profess to be its friends, its friends have no need to reckon with us as its foes. I have already alluded to my experience in a hard school. Indulge me if I return to it for a moment. My earlier years were spent in a Lancashire cloth mill. In it I wrought from morning to night side by side with youths of my own age and men who were older. For the most part, young and old, they were practised in almost every conceivable coarse and brutal way of casting their existence as rubbish to the void. But I think I can truthfully say that, while I tried to be loyal to the conditions of contact, and as a comrade in the ranks was not unpopular, yet they knew that neither within those grim walls nor without them was I of their world. It is not easy, sometimes it is very hard, to take up this positive position amid one's daily surroundings. And it is not only hard to do the thing itself; it may be even harder to do it wisely. It is not pleasant to have your conscientious attitudes to things which to you are neither expedient nor permissible interpreted by the old words used as a sneer: "Stand aside, for I am holier than thou." Young people like to be what is called "popular" with those who touch their lives; and within well-defined limits they owe it to themselves and others to cultivate the qualities that invite popularity. If, however, the price of popularity is some form of compromise with things that harm and things that hate--then, if you are worth world-room, you will draw the line sharply and keep on one side of it. And that can be done without giving the impression that you are either a prig or a snob. When you go the right way about it, the attitude I advise is far harder in contemplation than it is in practice. The real difficulty in eight out of every ten of the critical places in life is not what is in them, but what we imagine is in them. Let it be felt that the things you hold to be wrong must expect from you neither compromise nor show of friendship; that you are the open and declared enemy of unclean speech, filthy jesting, secret sins, with their hints and implied fascinations, brainless pursuits, frivolous conversation, and low down levels of existence, and, with the exception of those whose enmity it is a distinction to have, people will come to realize that your position is neither that of the religious crank nor of self-righteous conceit--that it is the expression and outcome of your reverence for whatsoever things are pure and lovely and of good report. Human society has no need more pressing than its need of young men and women with moral courage and religious conviction to take up the right attitude to wrong things. "Know ye not that whoever will be the friend of the world is the enemy of God?" When Saul was found in a certain company he had ceased to respect himself. This is why he was found there; and these two things were more than enough to sweep his life to its tragic close. How many of us have read this man's life-finish? Let me suggest to you something new to read. A story that has in it more elemental material than half the fiction that ever was written, or half the facts that mortgage the attention of a superficial world. Read that chapter where Saul, face to face with the last things in his darkened career, and hard upon the Nemesis of his own evil past, seeks out the woman with the familiar spirit, and in the words that he addresses to the apparition which he conjures up before his distorted vision you have the confession of a lost soul: "The Philistines make war against me, and the Lord answered me no more, neither by prophet nor by dream." "I have read nothing," says a well-known novelist, "quite like this man's experience in its utter abandon of lonely horror." Think what you may about the setting of this story, you will be strangely lacking in moral insight if you miss the meaning that pulsates through the words that were wrung out of Saul in his extremity. They point to the lost, which once lost is lost for ever. Even God, I say again, cannot give us back the yesterdays. Once they are gone we can only say: "That which is written is written." Many of you have practically the best of your chances before you, but every day takes some part of them out of your hands, and gives it to an irrecoverable past. Be jealous about your own self-respect, and do only the things that command it. Take care of your self-respect, and your success will take care of itself; as also will your companionships. "Seek ye the Lord while He may be found; call ye upon Him while He is near." Do not put off and forget, forget and put off until your clock strikes, and so far as the best of your opportunities are concerned, you have to say: "The Lord answereth me no more, neither by prophet nor by dream." Lay hold at once upon the help that comes through genuine decision for God. Place yourself in position where God can help you; and you will find that God in Christ denies you nothing except that which disappoints in the seeking and defeats in the finding. You will realize that He offers you life; strong, sane, happy life all the way, and at the end the more life and the fuller. THE ROYAL LAW "Howbeit if ye fulfil the royal law, according to the Scripture, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, ye do well."--St. James ii. 8. VII THE ROYAL LAW What St. James calls the Royal Law, is mentioned as far back as the time of Moses. It is one of the two commands to which our Lord gave new incidence, into which He put fresh meaning. There has been, I hardly need remind you, endless debate about the source of some of Christ's most characteristic sayings. Was He original in His teaching, as we use the word, or was He eclectic, gathering together the most luminous things that had been said? Jewish scholars, as we might expect, have not been slow to point out that many of the sayings attributed to Jesus, and certainly many of His ideas, are to be found in the old Rabbinical writings; that many of His highest truths had been announced by saints and seers of His race long before He came. We need not question that there is truth in this representation. But we must question the inference from these words, "long before He came." For time has known no such solitude. He, which is, and was, and is to come, has ever been in the world teaching men how to pray, inspiring them what to say. He had taught "them of old time." "Before Abraham was," He says, "I am." And St. John tells us that "He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not." Originality is no mere traffic with words however skilfully manipulated. There is a language of God transcending all words, and intelligible only when we meet Him spirit to spirit in the secret places of His eternity. "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." Observe the setting of this admonition when first given: "Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." This word "neighbour" connoted something that was a distinct advance in the upward trend of the race. It did, at any rate, a little to lift the Israelite out of himself into the lives of others. But it meant to him, at the most, only those who were of the same tribe or nation. In the fulness of time--when the world was ready--Jesus took up His own word spoken through Moses, and limited in its interpretation by the moral intelligence of that day; took up His own word, and made it co-extensive with humanity. This is what I mean by a language of God transcending all speech. "You have been told," says Jesus, "to love your neighbour"; and to the question, "Who is my neighbour?" He makes the answer reach out to its full circumference--"Thy neighbour is he or she who bears thy nature." By the law which declares that God has made of one blood all the nations of the earth, the physical unity of the race is implied; so by the operation of the law of love the moral unity, or, what we now call the "solidarity of humanity," is intended. "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." And I hardly need point out, that it is this little word _as_ in the text which gives us pause. Is it possible, then, to bring down this command and incarnate it in our daily life? It does not say, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour with certain arbitrary qualifications of thy own." It evidently means what it says: "Thou shalt love thy neighbour _as thyself_." Is it possible to do it? And many of us are ready to answer, It is not. Either there has been some mistake in the way it is reported, we tell ourselves, or it is useless to try to fulfil it with such natures as ours in such a world as this. Put it in this way: granted we loved others as we love ourselves--this should be good and pleasant for those who possessed our love, if it had genuine strength in it. Granted, again, we had the fulness of the strong love of others, that should be helpful to us. If we may condition the Royal Law in some such manner as this, "Love them who love us;" or, "love them who are worthy of our love," the difficulty is obviously lessened, if not in fact removed. But such a limit, while it might amount to prudence, would not reach up to beatitude. "If ye love them who love you, what do ye more than others?" "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." But who is thy neighbour? And Jesus answers, "thy neighbour is he who bears thy nature." This is iteration, but I venture it because I want us to confront the real insistence of this text. They who share our nature may be, and often are, those who hate us with or without a cause. There are people who perpetuate an existence on others which is little better than a moral and physical calamity. To tell us to tolerate them, not to speak about loving them, is like telling us to attempt the impossible. And yet Jesus did not forget these people when He said: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you." We, then, who say we accept Christ's teaching must accept it. This is one of the places where we cannot escape behind some ingenuity of exegesis or manipulation of text. The command is plain. We can take it or leave it. One thing we cannot do, we cannot re-write it. "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." As thyself. If this but fixes a hard standard; or simply indicates the measurement of neighbourly love, then we may almost as well close the discussion--its practical attainment is out of our reach. But, as some one has very wisely said: "Love of self must become a medium before it becomes a measure." [1] In other words, we cannot love our neighbour as we ought until we love ourselves as we should. Out of love of self "flow the ingredients which must enter into neighbour love." The text, then, lays down a twofold obligation: to cultivate a right love of self, and to translate this love of self into love for others. As touching the first part of this obligation, it is useless to ask what it is in our neighbour we are to love as ourselves, until we know what it is in ourselves we are to love. In what sense is a man to love himself? Because there is a radical difference between self-love as taught and practised in the world, and the love of self sanctioned and regulated by the Royal Law. Love of self is a right anxiety to secure the things we need in this world. It is based upon the principle that life is not to be unclothed but clothed upon. The fact that we are in the world and have to fulfil its desired ends should carry with it reverence for our manhood, and the demand for space to work out its full equation. While the Apostle Paul was always ready to subject his rights to the law of love, he was equally careful to assert that they were his rights before he yielded them. In his care for the weak brethren, he did not become a weak brother. One of the first things we have to learn, is how to take wise care of ourselves; and then, step by step, a true life is a growth in the knowledge of how so to take care of ourselves as to promote the best interests of others. In this matter of a right love of self, the point of transition at which it passes into beneficence is the victory over a self-love which is selfishness. It is really the basal principle of moral government in the world. But when this is said, the surest and simplest answer to the question, What is it in ourselves we are to love? is to say--We are to love that which God loves in us. And what does God love in us? From all we know of the divine nature as revealed in Jesus Christ, we are surely right in thinking that God loves in us what is most like Himself. No man can stand at Calvary reverently and thoughtfully for five minutes without being impressed with the truth of a wondrous self-sacrifice. I met with a remark lately in a story I was reading which fastened itself on my mind. It was made by a poor, toiling woman who had scarcely sufficient means to keep body and soul together: "I never, somehow," she said, "seem to think a thing is mine until I have given it away." This is the spirit that God loves, a spirit ever getting further away from "miserable aims that end with self." God loves in us the self-mastery that scorns to compromise with self-indulgence. God loves in us that which cannot find its true home in the things seen and temporal, but must ever soar out to the things unseen and eternal; the things that live in and wait upon the earnest man and after which he must ceaselessly aspire. God loves in us the strenuous effort which proceeds from the conviction that there is sacred power in every life which must not be wasted in "egotistical pride, or in a narrowing self-love." From instinct, from the moral consciousness, from the Scriptures--these we know to be representative of the things that God loves. And we know we are right in loving in ourselves what God loves in us. We also know that no man can wisely love himself until he knows the purifying power of a love that is divine. If now I may assume that this exposition of the text shows the ground, and defines the sphere of a right love of self, I may further say that the Royal Law does not require us to love in others what it does not permit us to love in ourselves. And we do well to be clear about this. Many of us stumble over this text because, not getting at its true inwardness, we have an uneasy feeling that it carries us too far. Others try to work up an artificial sentiment, and profess to exercise a charity which is not theirs to extend. Here is a man, let us say, who calls himself a religious man, who yet notoriously is a mean and shabby creature. I once heard this man, well placed and prosperous, boast of having that day become richer by some twelve hundred pounds through an oversight of a solicitor in winding up the affairs of a late client. I afterwards learned that the mistake was at the expense of a widow and her young children, who, because of it, were brought within very measurable distance of want. Must my love for my neighbour include one callous enough, not only to do a thing like that, but to boast about it? Must it annex the whole low plane of such a squalid disposition? God forbid. What I hope I should hate in myself I am not asked to love in another. If a man is base and unworthy we are to recognize the fact, however ugly; we are to look the devil in him in the face, and say it is the devil. But, on the other side, Christianity admonishes us that our judgments of our neighbours are neither infallible nor final. It has been well pointed out, that if we "have found any part of the secret of God's mercy shown to us, we shall not find it hard to believe in God's mercy for our neighbours." To realize that the essential thing the Redeemer saw in us and deemed it worth dying for, He sees in them, will help us, however weary at times in their service, not to weary of it. In this command, then, we have the ground and motive for the sacrifice of each for the good of all. We see that it is possible to love our neighbour in the sense we are to love ourselves. We see that the command which, on the surface of it, seems to urge an unattainable experience, is, in truth, what St. James calls it, the Royal Law that binds us together not only as neighbours, but as children of the same All-Father. "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." Should any one ask, "Who does it?" I answer, That is not the question. To deny that we can love our neighbour in this sense is to deny that we can love ourselves. Yet I know what fate, especially for young men, may lurk in this cold, faithless question. And I want it to be understood, that my single aim in this address--the reason why I have wrestled at this length for the meaning of the passage before us--is to show, that _whether we choose to do it or not, it can be done_. I affirm that this text is a simple statement of the principle of the only rational, helpful life man can live. And to prevail upon you to admit this, would be to accomplish much. To accept it as the truth, that you can love your neighbour as yourself, is to win intellectual confidence in the service which your day demands of you. It is to take the sting of death out of the old evil question: "Who does it?" Once recognize that Christ asks for nothing impossible, when He gave a new and ever-abiding authority to this ancient precept, and the question will not be, Who does it? Rather will it be, Who can afford not to do it? For not to do it is selfishness, and selfishness is self-defeat. He who exists only for himself, exists only to injure himself. It is the fashion now to get rid of a judgment to come by telling us that we are our own judgment here. The latter part of the statement is not the whole truth, but there is truth in it. The strain brings out the strength there is, but shirk it and we have weakness. Do as we like rather than do as we ought, and the price must be paid in loss of manhood. Everything we gain for selfishness we must steal from ourselves. "Ah me," said Goethe once, "that the yonder is never here." Go deep enough into every wrong and sin and you find at its root this selfishness. So many of us degrade life into a heartless scramble. We fight each other because each man, dissatisfied himself, is convinced that his neighbour is getting more than his share. It may be doubted whether there has ever been a day in the Western world when more people were dominated by the conviction that gain is godliness. So many about us have virtually ceased to put their trust in anything about which they cannot lace their fingers. With them, dreamers about anything else are cranks, and martyrs for anything else are nuisances. And this reacts upon such apology as they have for more serious thinking. We seem in many ways to be returning to the pagan condition when judgment was not feared and spiritual influences were unfelt. In novel, drama, and much that passes for science, we have the monotonous iteration that man is the creature of blind chance under an indifferent sky. But this, thank God, is not the whole story. There is another and brighter side. If we take a very subdued estimate of our modern day and world, I am yet persuaded that never were the saving ideas of the Saviour more potent, never have His high aspirations been more ardently welcomed or more strenuously followed than they are now. Past all human speculations about Christ, men hopelessly divided in creed are yet getting nearer to what He lived believing and died believing. In the weariness of so much of the modern world, and in the hopelessness of its outlook, I see an age ready to receive anew the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I see a temper ready to grasp with fresh earnestness the thoughts of the "Living Lord and Supreme Teacher of our race." Men to-day are dreaming like dreams as shone before the souls of the ancient prophets, and in the visions of men who have wrought for human progress since the first days even until now. Waking dreams of a new and diviner order of society. A state marked by righteousness, peace, and happiness for the whole people; the golden age, when man, knowing what it is in himself he ought to love, loves that in his neighbour as in himself. And Christianity, which came into the world to fulfil these heaven-born dreams, is being openly challenged as never before to substantiate them. In the larger aims of our spiritual ideals the "yonder is never here," nor, indeed, can it be. There must always be above us something better than our best. When we cease to make progress we die, and that, in the language of Scripture, is the second death. If, therefore, the searching demand of the text confronts us with the weakness of our nature, we need not wonder and we need not be discouraged. It is the purpose it has in view. "It discloses an ideal, and it reveals an end." If in seeking to realize the ideal and gain the end we are forced to know how insufficient we are in our own strength--this, I repeat, is the end it seeks to accomplish in us and for us. Until our life is in Christ linked on to God, we cannot love our neighbour as we ought, because we have not the higher power to love ourselves as we should. But the power is offered us. And it is for you young men to lay fast hold of it, and accept the world's challenge in a way it has never been handled and faced before. "Do not talk about the things you believe," says the world to us who name the name of Christ; "convince me that you believe by what you do." And this is said, not from an indifference to dogma, as some would have us think. It means that a man's beliefs are between himself and God. It is what comes out of his belief, that can be reckoned with amid the forces of our everyday life. You place in cold sheet one of the loftiest passages of a great composer before a man sensitive to music, but who does not know one note from the other, and he looks at it with indifference. You put the sheet before a gifted organist seated at his instrument; and as the melody rolls forth in swells of power, then in cadences of persuasive pathos, the indifference of the man vanishes as he catches his breath like a sob, and feels a prayer he cannot speak. We say we believe in Christ, and men turn aside with indifference. We live Christ, and men love Him. It is common enough to find this indifference about religion, and a marked want of what I have called intellectual confidence in Christianity as we preach it from the pulpit. But I have never yet found a man infidel to the fruits of its spirit, which are, love, peace, goodness, a living faith, and a genuine self-sacrifice. Before men can be expected to become Christ-like, they must know what Christ is like, and how far are we prepared to put our lives before men as an answer to the question: "What think ye of Christ?" Preach Christ by living Christ. "All men," says the Koran, "are commanded by the Saint." And no man ever casts the wealth of his life and the crown of his devotion at the feet of Jesus without "quickening the earth with a diviner life, and uplifting it with a new courage." One of the most brilliant of the eighteenth-century poets said: "The lapse of time changes all but man, who ever has been, and ever will be, just what he is." Which means that man is by make incurably selfish. This is a lie. And it is the worst kind of lying, for it represents not only the inability to find good in man, but the inability to believe that there is good to be found. My own stand is where thought and experience have forced me. From human nature left to itself I hope for nothing; with that nature remade in Christ I despair of nothing. It all turns on the remake. And it can be remade: "As many as received Him, to them gave He power to become sons of God: who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." Let us, therefore, by divine grace, refashion our lives on the mighty principle of divine love. And let us settle it as one of the truths never to be questioned, that nothing is worthy to be called love that cannot be affirmed of God. We know what God loves; or we know enough for the practical ordering of our daily life. Let us love in ourselves what God loves in us. This will include for ourselves and others all things which are good for us to have and enjoy; and because it will exclude all things that are narrow, mean, and selfish, it will go far to raise the world to a power of a new day. Then, through hearts and homes, through Churches and societies, the Royal Law, made royal life, will solve the problem of the new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness. It will become the touch of omnipotence that casts out of our life the unworthy, by bringing in the opposite virtues, resolving all into character which shall transform mankind into one realm over which the right and the might of Christ shall at last prevail-- "From creed and scheme the light goes out, The saintly fact survives, The Blessed Master who can doubt, Revealed in human lives?" [1] Two or three sentences in this chapter are memorized from a sermon I heard years ago, preached by Rev. H. E. Michie, M.A., of Stonehaven. 'HE WAS DESPISED AND REJECTED' "He is despised and rejected of men."--Isaiah liii. 3. VIII 'HE WAS DESPISED AND REJECTED' Some two or three years ago the picture, "He was despised and rejected," by Sigismund Göetze, was on view in Glasgow. In this address I shall try to tell you something about the impression it made on me; and the reason will be given at the end why I include it in this series. Some of you may have seen the picture; others may have read or heard about it. The conception of it appears to have formed itself in the mind of the artist out of what ordinarily is a very commonplace circumstance. He had attended a Sunday service at St. Paul's Cathedral, and heard a sermon that made a deep impression upon him; which found his higher being with something like the touch of an immortal influence. He thought within himself: "What a real difference a word like this must make in the thoughts and life of those who have been privileged to listen to it. Never again, surely, can they be as though they had not heard it." It was a message, so he felt, to shake men, to arouse them, and make them turn on one another and cry: "Men and brethren, what must we do?" Under the impact of his own emotions and sensitive to his surroundings, he was eager at the close of the service to share with others what he virtually demanded they should impart to him. But he was grievously disappointed. Not a word did he hear, not a look did he see on the face of a departing worshipper which so much as betrayed the transient emotion stirred by dream or romance. If they had listened to the discourse, they had evidently forgotten what they had been at no pains to remember. No new experience befell this man of artistic and impulsive temperament. I heard a sermon a short time ago preached in a seaside church, which deeply moved me; a sermon I was thankful to have heard, and the like of which I would walk a long way to hear again. As I stood outside the building waiting for a friend, the congregation came out, and I heard the usual interchange of verbal nothings. The only reference I did hear to the service was from a well-dressed young man to a girl by his side, and this is what he said: "A long-winded fellow, that; let us go on the parade." The remark did not unduly surprise me. "I wonder," said a man to me lately, "why some people go to a place of worship at all; they appear to be as indifferent to what is said, sung, or prayed, as the dog that barks is indifferent about the dog-star." In every congregation of fair size there is a strange mixture. But it always includes those whose attention and evident interest do something to compensate for others who show neither. There are elect souls who hear the Word and receive it. You may not trace the fact by what they say, but you know it by the holiness of helpfulness, which radiates from them like light, and is made by them as an atmosphere. God has not ordained the foolishness of preaching--which does not mean foolish preaching--to thin out in the miserable anti-climax of a remark like that of the young man I have just quoted. Fortunately, however, our artist had not sufficient experience of the conventional congregation at a place of worship to have become philosophic about it--which usually amounts to indifference. Judging others by what he himself felt, he thought they must be equally moved. But instead of having received the preached Word, there was nothing, so far as he could discern, to indicate that they had even heard it, while there was much to lead to the conclusion that they had not. Hence he resolved to repeat the sermon through the translation of his art. They should, if he could accomplish it, receive through the eyes what they would not hear with the ears. Something like this, we are told, was the genesis of this picture, with its central Figure of the Crucified One close by an ancient altar, yet immediately outside a modern building called a Christian church. There He stands unregarded and silent, but so far as His anguish speaks the eternal Passion of God, while there stream past Him the clearly-defined types of a twentieth-century multitude--each, with one doubtful exception, as indifferent about who, and whence, and why He is, as if He were one of the stone pillars that support the vestibule of the temple dedicated to His worship. Poverty sits at His very feet and it is not even curious; fashion and vice, toil and sport, science and ruin, culture and ignorance, want and opulence pass by, and do not so much as despise and reject Him--for that at least would argue some form of interest. It is the indifference which, as Confucius says, is the "night of the mind--night without a star." I need not linger over the types. You may see them any day in a characteristic London throng; you may see them in a less emphasized form in a city like Glasgow. If I may make one reference to them, let it be where the artist attempts to represent the attitude of the Churches to the Man of Sorrows. We have, for example, a high ecclesiastic in one of the sacerdotal communions, and by his side there is some order of Nonconformist minister. The latter is evidently in earnest, not to entreat the attention of the crowd to Him whom they pass by, but to convict his companion of error out of their commonly-received Scriptures. And the great ecclesiastic, sleek, debonair, and well preserved, has a bored look on his capacious face which says: "My dear good man, why excite yourself? I readily make you a present of your contention. You take your truth and I will keep my position. As we can settle nothing but ourselves, why not settle ourselves as comfortably as we can?" According to the artist, each in his own way is in the crowd and of it. It is anything and everything except the Crucified One, as in St. Paul's it was anything and everything except the message spoken to those who, having ears, heard not. How do we explain it, then, from his point of view, that this stream of people, representative of a widespread society, is utterly indifferent to that Figure so pathetic in its loneliness, so tragic in its appeal, and almost aggressive in its sorrow? It is possible that not a type on the canvas is to be interpreted as quite ignorant of the letter of the claims made for Him who is yet the Object of the world's indifference. There is a sense in which it is true that Christ was never better known than He is in your day and mine. We have the well-authenticated Scriptures which testify of Him. We are more sure that we possess many of His sayings than we are sure that the writings known as Shakespeare's plays were written by a man called William Shakespeare. In these Scriptures He is reported to have said: "Before Abraham was, I am." And in another word, that falls like a beam of light on everything He did and said, He tells us that "the Son of Man is come to seek and to save the lost." We have the key-word of the Father's message to the race in the wondrous declaration that "God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." We have a mighty Christian literature which, if it be evolved out of a myth, resolves itself into a miracle. We have the fact that never before was Christ so admired, so much quoted, and so generally applauded as He is at the opening of the twentieth century. We have accredited thinkers who reject, as they think, all dogmatic theologies about Christ, and yet tell us that the spirit which Christ incarnated in His words and actions reveals a God humanity cannot improve upon. We have, moreover, an army of men who are set apart by training, and what they believe to be their "calling," to preach Christ by precept, and to teach Him by a life derived, as they declare, from Him whom they preach and teach. And amid many failures, and motives of the earth earthy, these men do not all fail, nor do they all live by bread alone. Was there no place in that canvas-crowd for one of those devoted men who, ill-paid, half-starved, and overwrought, toil night and day in that most awful work on this earth, the attempt to rescue and raise the lapsed masses of our large populations? Was there no room for the man who penalizes body and soul to straining-point for words and thoughts that shall inspire and hearten men to steer their lives by the higher stars, those eternal principles of truth and right? Was there no room for a woman of the Salvation Army who is out of some hideous slum for a moment's breathing, before returning to it with a great self-renouncing life of love and healing? But take the picture as the artist's impression of the ail-but universal indifference about Him who is yet declared to be the soul and centre of our Scriptures, our creeds, and our religious life, and how do we explain it? Or if we put the artist's impression aside, and on our own account face the truth which, for the purposes of constructive art, he may have exaggerated, is there any less need that we should ask: Why is Christ despised and rejected of men? Why is it that they do not come unto Him that they may have life? The answers are legion. To my thinking, they resolve themselves into practically one. Before we can know Christ, before we can understand Christ, before we can come to Christ, we must come to ourselves. And not a face on that crowded canvas suggests a hope that he, or she, had taken an honest step in this all-determining direction. Before I can look to Christ as my Saviour I must know that I need a Saviour. Before I can realize my need of salvation from sin I must realize that I am a sinner. So much, if not all, turns there. It is not every man who feels that he is a sinner because he talks about being one. But let him feel it, and out of the knowledge will come his saving health, or the death that dies. It is declared to be the work of the Holy Spirit to convince men of sin, and the unbelief growing out of sin. Analyse the causes of indifference about the things that belong to our peace, and you find that for the most part they resolve themselves into sin, and the unbelief that follows sin, as consequence comes out of cause. I know with what impatience the world turns from what is called the evangelical teaching about the nature and effects of sin. And we need not go outside the Church to find the same impatience, not to say contempt. We have in our pulpits men who represent sin to us as good in the making. It is in some sense a necessary means to an end. They speak of arrested development, of defect of will, of inheritances and surroundings, of a vacancy as yet unfilled by virtue. It is hard to think that people held by a half-sceptical pantheism, and the relativity of evil, have ever been face to face with the awful deeps and disobediences of their own heart, or have felt the hot breath of the devil on their own cheek. If we have any worth-discerning faculty, we know when a man is handling certain subjects whether he knows what he is talking about; whether or not, to use an expressive colloquialism, "he has been there." No man who with the eyes of the soul has looked down that awful cleft that separates between the carnal mind and the holy will of God, can use words here under the wasting impression that he knows things. If Christ only died to save us from something which, after all, is only good in the making, then the Cross of Calvary is the supreme irony of time. We shall never find a Saviour by the road that, at the most, leads but to a martyr. Here is a man--and he is not an imaginary case--who is married, and has young people growing up in the home. He is wealthy, with a reputable position in society. But there is a sinister something in the background of his life, and he sets himself to do what he knows full well is an irreparable wrong to an inexperienced and defenceless creature. He makes no fight against the wicked prompting, and does the hurt which if another man were to do to one of his own family he would willingly shoot him dead. And say when the hurt is done, a searchlight--he knows not whence it comes--is flashed across his soul and he sees himself as he is, a base scoundrel before God and man, will it help him to think of his sin as good in the making? For whatever he may become, he has done his part to damn another. And let his conscience become, as it can become, and woe to him if it do not become, as real as the wicked thing he has done, and his first and devastating question will be, not can God forgive him, but can he ever forgive himself? Let his one hope come to be in some means of expiation, which can give him a degree of rest from the sin by paying what he can of its wages, and he will begin to realize what is meant, not by the remission of the consequences of sin, but by the remission of sin. He will know the need, where the need is agony, which God in Christ has met for us, and which, had He not met, would have left the need something greater than God Himself. It is when a man must have peace with himself or die to all that is immortal in him--it is then I will trust him never again to pass by with unconcern the anguish of Him who bore our sin in His own body on the tree. Sometimes we look at the Lamb of God without feeling that we are sinners, and then we have a thousand difficult questions to ask. At other times the burden of sin is so heavy upon us, we see the sinfulness of sin so vividly, that we get away from the mere accident of place and time as far as it relates to sin, we see sin as God saw it, and must ever see it--then it is we look to the Crucified One. "When I feel myself in my heart of hearts a sinner," I once heard Dr. Parker say, "a trespasser against God's law and God's love; when I feel that a thought may overwhelm me in destruction, that a secret, unexpressed desire may shut me out of heaven and make me glad to go to hell to be away from the face of Him that sitteth upon the throne--then when I am told that Jesus Christ was wounded for my transgressions, that upon Him was laid the chastisement of my peace, I press my way through all the difficulties and say: If I perish I will pray and perish at the Cross; for if this be not sufficient, it hath not entered into the heart of man to solve the problem of human depravity, and the human consciousness of sin." I am not seeking to explain or defend what I am saying. I may try to make it a little more clear before I close. For the moment I am putting before you what I believe to be the truth of very truth. To some I may be speaking in an unknown tongue, but not to all. If there is one here who, with some years behind him, has ever been in serious conference with himself, he knows that there is something radically wrong with himself, which calls for something he is powerless to supply. He knows that the springs of his being have been poisoned, and he has no detergent to make them sweet. It is the fashion in our day to speak of the old description of "hell-deserving sinner" as marred by exaggeration, if not to say morbid. I do not fall into that fashion, for it expresses just what I am--a hell-deserving sinner. When the great Puritan, John Newton, saw a man taken out to be hanged, he said: "But for the grace of God there goes John Newton." It is when the true idea of sin is realized under the convincing power of the Holy Spirit, that the "necessity of the sacrificial work of Christ will be felt, understood, and become the one foundation of human hope." Do you say that you have felt nothing of this convicting and convincing power? Then I ask: Have you ever passed through an hour of serious inquest with your own soul? Have you ever tried to know yourself even as you are known? The debate cannot be all on one side. A man only knows that he is ignorant through the need of a knowledge he has not got. Before I can persuade you that Christ is your Saviour, you must realize that it is a Saviour you need. Before you can start out for Christ you must come to yourself. And while men make a mock of sin, while they regard it as a matter of indifference, or profess to explain it away under the terms of science and philosophy, we need not wonder that they have so little faith in higher things. We need go no further for an explanation of the thoughtless unbelief which is eating its way like a festering sore to the heart of our modern world. If the lusts of the flesh and the pride of life sum up the totality of our being here, why should that crowd on the artist's canvas be represented as moved by an anguish that touches no chord in its soul; which is, indeed, foreign to its every thought, sympathy, and pursuit? So long as men are indifferent about the very question, Why that anguish? vain is the appeal, "To you is it nothing your Saviour should die?" So long as men are utterly unconcerned about the fact, and nature, and effects of moral evil, then selfishness will remain for men the only recognized law of self-preservation. And here is where I come into line with the practical side of the Christian evangel. The Cross of Christ is no arbitrary arrangement. It is not the expedient of a system cunningly devised by priest, theologian, or Church. It is the grimmest, sanest, divinest thing ever set up in this human world. The Cross is symbol of the only Power that can enter the lists against selfishness, and enter to throw it. And let me plead with you to think about this: every wrong in the world has selfishness, if not for its root, yet at its root. Cast out the selfishness which is sin, and you cast out the first and the last thing that stands between us and the new heaven and the new earth. Think of this, and you will better understand the anguish of Him who carries the sorrow, and is wounded in the wounds made by man's inhumanity to man. Refuse to think of it, and cease to wonder why countless thousands mourn; why the strong oppress the weak; why might is worshipped as right; why men seem to fear nothing but the hell of not making money. Think of it, and cease to wonder why men's bodies and souls are sacrificed in what is little better than a murderous struggle to exist; why one man has so much more than he earns, and others earn so much more than they have. Think of it and cease to wonder why our age is distinguished by a bad pre-eminence of restlessness, by feverishness, a panting for excitement, and a poisonous atmosphere of pessimism. The Cross of Christ means the life that lives in unselfish service as against the selfishness that is death and defeat. It means not only individuals and Churches, but the race, redeemed and lifted from the dark and narrow life of self, into the life and light of the kingdom of God. Can we wonder, then, that the rejection of the Cross blasts our beliefs in everything divine and hopeful, and is accompanied everywhere by a "melancholy introspection and lack-lustre view of human life?" Recall then in this connection what I have said about sin, and the relation of Christ's death to the forgiveness of sin. What I am saying now does not include all that is implied in that relation; but see in it what I have just put before you, and you will realize that I am not talking in mere morbid terms, nor in those of theology except so far as it is the theology of life. Long as men are willingly in their sin--which means selfishness in all its deadly forms--can we wonder at the unbelief portrayed on that canvas? Can we marvel why the Christ is still despised and rejected? It may be asked, and justly, what are the professed followers of Christ doing to convince men of their need of Him as their Saviour; to convince them by lives that are the evidence of triumph over sin? What are Christian people, what are the Churches doing to fight down the wrongs, the hurtful conditions, the curse-centres that degrade men, keep them ignorant, and as by a satanic ingenuity hide the real Christ from those who most need to find Him, and are the least able to oppose the things that make Him so misunderstood and even unknown? How far are we responsible, not only for the deliberately cultivated wickedness of men who choose evil as their good, but for the indifference that passes by only because our lives have never compelled its attention? The Church is a Church but to the extent that it is the organic expression of Christ's life, the visible Body of His soul. What, I ask in all faithfulness, are we doing to make real and living to men the presence of a Lord who is ever suffering in their sin and for it? The artist was well inspired to give his picture a twentieth-century setting. What an amount of grim Calvary there is in Glasgow every day under the shadow of our Churches; ah! and behind the sanction of their power. That is the word that should smite us; it is the word that must be said--behind the sanction of their power. The world would begin to see Christ, if we ourselves would see Him crucified, not merely in the remote Palestine of the first century, but, I say once more, in this Glasgow of to-day. In the foul slum, in the haunt of shame, in the abode of crime and wretchedness, in the places where children are robbed of their birthright before they know what things mean; in the sweater's den, in the heartless side of business competition, in the drink hells, in frivolous pursuits and brainless amusements, in the insolence of wealth, and the sullenness of poverty--in every place or thing where despite is done to the Divine Humanity. Let us feel that whatever wrong is done to a single human being, throughout the world-wide family of man, is literally done to Jesus Christ, and we shall better understand that central Figure in the artist's picture. Let us see Christ crucified in whatever evil is done, in whatever good is left undone that we could do, and sin will become to us not a term only, not a thing to be excused and explained away, but a real and tremendous horror. We shall feel it to be what it is, a stab struck at the living heart of Jesus Christ. As it has been truly said: "Fellowship with Christ's sufferings will become less of a mystical phrase, and more of a vital fact." "To you is it nothing, all ye that pass by?" As I sat and looked at that picture, this was the question that oppressed my thoughts. And then the further question forced itself--Why, in so many cases, and to all human seeming, is it just that--nothing? It is not enough to talk of sin, and unbelief, and indifference, outside our life: they are real enough, but do they suggest no responsibility on our part? Let it be a call to prayer, an incentive to unceasing watchfulness lest one should be passing by because there is nothing in us which constrains him, or persuades her, to look and be saved, to look and live. I said at the opening of this address that I would tell you later why I include it in this series. I am not sure that I can keep my word. What has been said will glance from your mind unless you have, like Luther, and for the same reason, wrestled with the question: "How shall a man be just with God?" But assuming that as yet this is outside your experience, still you know the difference between what may but arbitrarily be called sin, and sin that is what it is called. Believe me when I say that the first, and worst, and nearest of all problems for each man of us, and for societies, is the fact of sin; and that with it no one deals, or can deal, save Him upon whom the chastisement of our peace was laid, and with whose stripes we are healed. What is the exact relation between the death of Christ and the forgiveness of sin no one can tell us; but that there is a relation charged with redeeming power is not a theory about Christianity--it is Christianity. I read some time ago that a "Van Missioner," who was preaching Unitarianism in the villages of Hampshire, found himself at one of them interrupted by a number of farm labourers, who began to sing-- "What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus! What can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus. It washes white as snow, No other fount I know." To the modern enlightenment which patronizes Jesus as a teacher and rejects Christ as a Saviour, the theology, or sentiment, in these lines is not so much crude as grotesque. At the best it is but curiously reminiscent of the ignorance of a by-gone day. Doubtless this well-meaning man had much to say worth hearing; but he was talking in the name of religion, and to these villagers there was in it the lack of the one thing, which is the lack of all. Theology apart, these simple folk found in these crude lines the heart of saving truth. It is my conviction that they were right. In this conviction I live, and in it, by God's grace, I trust I may die and live again. "I do not despise Jesus: with all that is best in me do I reverence Him as one of the world's supreme teachers; but I cannot regard Him as more than that," said a friend to me after reading over the manuscript of this address. "And yet," he added quietly, "if there is anything in Christianity which distinguishes it from any other great religion, it must be near to the place you have been trying to get at." 'WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED?' "What must I do to be saved?"--Acts xvi. 30. "If any man will do his will, he shall know."--St. John vii. 17. IX 'WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED?' "When I was well into my teens," said a very intelligent woman to me some time ago, "and for long after I had left them, I listened to preachers and preaching; and such powers as I had I put into my listening, for I wanted to get at something I could hold for sure and real in the promises of religion. I was told Sunday by Sunday to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, to trust in Him, and commit to His keeping my soul's welfare. And as far as I knew what belief meant I believed; and tried to persuade myself that I was trusting Christ. But I was not conscious that it made any real difference in my life; that it gave me anything I had not before. Hence I gradually came to the conclusion that either the preachers could not tell me what it was on which I had specifically to lay hold, or it was useless for me to prosecute my attempt to grasp it." This woman said what many think, who are as yet within listening distance of our pulpits. They want to understand what they must do and believe, to lay hold of that which can make a difference in their life; which can find in it, or bring into it, something that answers in very truth to what the Bible calls "the power of God unto salvation." It is, surely, a reasonable thing to ask. As religious teachers we can have no right to plead with people to believe what we are not prepared to help them to understand. Some of you may have reason, as you think, to endorse this woman's testimony as a fair statement of your own experience. Can I help you? Most gladly will I do so if I can. One thing should be said, as I come closer to the attempt. If you are really anxious to find help, guard against mistaken impressions of what that help should be, or can be. In religion, as in all the deeper places of human life, one great teacher is experience; and you can neither anticipate nor rush experience. A mother says in answer to certain questions of her child: "Wait until you are older and you will find out." That, to the child, is no answer at all; but, while the child is a child, it is the only answer there is. Divine truth is infallible; but, as it has often been pointed out, there is no human infallible apprehension of divine truth. We have to admit that there may be, and indeed must be, many phases and aspects of saving truth which we cannot comprehend. There are others, again, of which we get only distant and fugitive glimpses as we study the Word of God. But we shall also admit, that these higher reaches of truth are not those alone on which our faith is called to repose. It may seem to many of you, that in my treatment of the subject now before us, I overlook much that is essential to the Christian doctrine of salvation. I may even seem to eliminate the supernatural element from it. A little thought, however, should correct the latter impression. In passing I have only to say, that I am not trying to exhaust this theme, but simply to give it a setting which, I venture to think, is worth consideration. "What must I do to be saved?"--a question which may be put in two very different states of moral being. It may be asked in a temper merely curious and academic; or it may, as in the case of the text, voice a profound sense of need. If we would be saved, we must realize that we need to be saved. It was when the prodigal "came to himself" that he said: "I will arise and go to my father." We are to be saved from what? and into what are we to be saved? In other words, not only must old things pass away, but all things must become new. From what, I repeat, are we to be saved? There is but one answer to the question: We are to be saved from sin by being delivered from the power of evil; and sin is the wilful assertion of our self-will against the holy will of God. The sense of sin may vary in different people; it may vary with the moods of the same personal experience. There are people who appear to be quite callous about the evil within them and the evil they do. But just as our moral nature is educated, just as we grow in sympathy with the divine will, do we become increasingly sensitive to the distance there is between what we are, and do, and the holiness of Him who is a consuming fire. We feel that the Apostle was neither morbid, nor did he exaggerate the actual situation when he cried: "O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" It has been said that the "only way to be saved from sin is to cease to sin." And it is true that a man cannot, at the same time, sin in any given direction, and cease from that sin. But it is also true that he may cease from sin in the sense of not doing certain things, and yet be the greater sinner in the sight of God, because of the motive which acts as his deterrent or restraining force. I have seen men repent of their sin, as the process was called, when I have had no faith in it whatever. They were not repenting of their sin, but lamenting the cost of its indulgence. We must do more than cease to do evil things only because evil has its price; we must learn to do well by learning to love all that is meant by well. There is no escape from evil except through love of good. The Christian salvation, which means the saving of the whole self-hood of man, is a positive thing from its inception into its endless development. Where it is repression it is that there may be expression. This, I imagine, is what Robert L. Stevenson must have meant when he said "We are not damned for doing wrong, but for not doing right." Christ, he contends, "would never hear of negative morality; 'thou shalt' was ever His word, with which He superseded, 'thou shalt not.'" According to Stevenson--I do not say he is right, but I do quote his words as worth attention--we are not damned so much for yielding to evil, as for not getting into our life its oppositive virtue; some content vital enough to cast out the evil, and to keep it out. To go on fighting some besetting sin is only to repeat, for the most part, an experience many of us know but too well. It almost invariably ends one way. In weariness and despair we ask: "Why should we war with evil? It is more than our test, it is our fate; let us take what sweet we can before it becomes all bitter." Which is but another way of saying: "Evil, be thou my good." Mark well, then, our next step. It is not enough to tell us that we must conquer the wrong by doing the right. The question is this: Is there any power, anything in what is called saving grace, which is adequate to the struggle on our part, and which appropriated can make us, to use the Apostle's description, "more than conquerors"? There is; and I will try, first, to tell you what it is, and, secondly, how we may realize it. It is--call it by what name we may for the moment--that which casts out the mean, the ignoble, and the selfish, by filling out life with the great, the noble, and the unselfish. It is, in a word, the salvation which means the "highest character and blessedness, which we, individually and collectively, are capable of reaching and realizing." Let us, then, call it what it is--the power of God unto salvation. And how are we to get it into our possession? The answer is, it needs no getting in. Potentially it is there. "The kingdom of God is within you," says Jesus, and it is ours to bring it out in all its actual reality. It is the greater which includes the less, of the gracious possessions God has put in our being, and of which we know so little because we do not work these inward mines: "Work out your own salvation, for it is God that worketh in you." Some one makes a great inventor say: "Anybody might have done it, but the secret came to me." Do you believe the first part of this statement? Would you hold me true in saying that anybody might have anticipated the discovery of wireless telegraphy? There are times when the world appears to halt for want of some new thing, or for want of some one to put new meaning into the old. And when the fulness of time has come, the secret, which has been sleeping through centuries of men, awakes in a man. He is the chosen of Providence to deliver unto us that which he also has received. What is true of a few in the endowment of what we call genius, may be true of us all in the power of God unto salvation. When we were "made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth," the Maker of us all put a part of Himself into the mysterious substance. "Let each man," says Browning, "think himself a thought, an act, a breath of God." There is evil in our nature; but evil can mar us only so far as we allow it to become sin. It is in victory over evil that we find character and make. There is evil in our nature, but there is also a germ of God which He can touch into immortality and glorify with the very splendour of His own image and being. When that germ is quickened into life, we are, in the language of theology, converted; as it develops and becomes the more life and the fuller, we are, in the same language, sanctified and made meet for the Master's use. Is there anything mysterious in this; anything we may not understand? Christ did not think so, if we may judge from His conversation with Nicodemus. "Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again." Our Lord, if I understand Him aright, tells this master of Israel that there is nothing more wonderful about this new birth than there is about a new affection or a new love. And what cannot love do? No one enters our life except through love. They may influence it profoundly, but that of itself gives no admittance to the heart. What, I ask again, cannot love do? Have we never known lives changed, and indeed transformed by a new affection? I have seen love work miracles; and so far from not believing in such miracles within their sphere, I believe in nothing else. But does that which wakes love put it there? Is some new thing added to life? Rather let us say that it is life coming to its own; just finding what was already there. This may be what the Psalmist means when he speaks of deep calling to deep. The deep in man answers to the deep of attraction which appeals to it. If man was conceived in the image of God, then God is immanent in man. This is not to say that this immanence is equal to, or implies the whole content of what is known as Christian salvation. It is true that the "eye and the brain must be there before the light can be perceived or any object interpreted." But it has been pointed out with equal truth that the "eye would be useless did not the light come to it, and that the brain would have nothing to work on, were not objects from without brought for our perception." [1] Which means that immanence alone would be powerless apart from some transcendent influence. Unless this be so, what are we to say of the multitudes which sit in darkness and the shadow of death? Our salvation is in the answer of the life immanent to the life transcendent, and the connecting and combining power is the Holy Spirit. But what, in the next place, is our part in this matter? How is this power to come? How, to use a better term, are we to realize it? Have we to wait for something, or have we to do something to make it a real experience? A youth, let us say, or a girl, is beginning to learn music, to play the violin or the piano. At first it is drudgery, and its immediate results are a trial unto all that are in the house. The parent or teacher says: "Persevere, obey instructions, and as you pass through routine into the soul, the task will soon be lost in the pleasure." The beginner may not believe it; but granted the facility is there, and determination to bend to the task of learning, and the reward comes. That which is within is brought out, and by the only way it can be brought out: "Stir up the gift that is in thee." This hints to us the answer to the question, Have we to do something that salvation may become a known and felt reality? We have to do something. We have _to do_, as we are told by Him who only can tell us what it is we have to do: "Will to do the will," says the Christ, "and ye shall know." And if we are really seeking a basis of assurance in His saving power, we ought surely to take Him at His word, when He tells us how to find it. It is not first through assured belief that we become sure of Christ, it is by doing Christ's will that we become sure of our belief. Have we to explain to a child the mechanism of its limbs before it can attempt to walk? The impulse comes, and the child walks, that is all. But the child has to walk to know that it can walk. But what, you ask me, are we to say about sudden conversions, of which we once heard so much, and which we are still taught to seek and expect? What, I ask you, about those sudden flashes of insight which at times seem to reveal in a moment a way out of difficulties which for years we have sought in vain? A man told me lately about a period in his life when through drink and betting he was reduced from a prosperous man to a wreck in body and means. "I was down," he said, "low as a human creature could get in this world." He was converted to God, and from the very hour his change came, he declared that his craving for drink, and mania for gambling, dropped out of his being, as a piece of dead matter falls away from a living organism. And there are such cases, thank God, but we must not make our teaching about them misleading by making it despotic. As in the instances of sudden insight, we do not because we dare not say they are general, deny that they occur. The soul-development on its immortal side is, for the most part, gradual and slow. The life-faculty is there, but it often means hard work, patient waiting, and great faith, to realize its presence and bring out its power. [2] It has been said that modern psychology confirms scientifically this method of seeking and finding the truth. It teaches that action has often to precede thought and feeling. If this is the word of psychology, it is really in accord with the method of Jesus. Practically all His teaching is addressed, not so much to the intellect or to the emotions, but to the will. He does not put doing and believing in opposition; in actual life they are really indistinguishable parts of a healthy spiritual growth. But our Lord does put doing before knowing, as He puts religion before theology, and life before the understanding of life. His unmistakable object is to constrain men to take action, rather than to wait for emotion, or even for intellectual confidence and conviction. As a matter of experience, we find at every turn on the road of life we have to do things we do not want to do, to secure the things we want to have. Necessity does not humour us, and that is the reason the world owes so much to necessity. We may be very "superior" about dogmatism in theology, but well for us that dogmatism will have no such nonsense in life. It is just doing the duty that tasks us most, whatever our feeling about it, which makes the difference between the worthy and the unworthy in character; between the numerals and the ciphers in the human world. It is doing, not what we would, but as we ought which changes reluctance into interest, and the sense of futility into the joy of achievement. It is doing what we know to be true which illumines its ever-lasting significance. "You could write stories which people would read," said Lecky repeatedly to George Eliot. She did not believe him, and, strange as it may seem, she had almost a morbid shrinking from making the attempt. But she did make it, and we know with what results. The attempt to write a story had not only to precede the belief that she could write one, it had to reveal the gift. And so Jesus, who came to manifest God, says to you and me: My brother, My sister, there is that in you which, brought out and cultivated, can achieve in you the highest order and quality of life in this world, and fit you for whatever environment lies beyond. Believe me. Just take me at my word when I say to you, will to do my will, and doing it you shall come to love it--and that is to be saved; for it is to be at one with the Father in me. Leave your past, however unworthy it may be. What I have done and suffered for you has atoned for all. Do your part, and you, too, shall testify: "I live, and yet not I, but Christ that liveth in Me." This, then, is my position; and whether or not it answer to fact and to Scripture, I leave with your judgment. I ought to have accomplished something if I have made myself understood. It probably overlooks much that many of you hold to be integral to the nature and meaning of salvation. I have only to repeat, that what has been advanced is a setting of this great subject; and I venture to urge it upon your consideration. It now remains for me to notice very briefly one or two further questions as I draw to a close. What, I may be asked, are we expected, as young people, to understand about the doctrines and dogmas of Christianity as necessary to an intelligent religious faith? And what about feeling or emotion, which is usually represented as a vital part of the driving power of Christian life and conduct? Well, speaking for myself, I make no pretension to the lofty disregard of doctrine which in so many quarters seems to be regarded as the hall-mark of enlightened thinking. We do well to beware of a so-called "breadth," which is but a pet euphemism for thinness. But after all, we can hold a thing for true, and yet find no explanation of it which quite satisfies us. Theories about the heavens have come and gone, but the stars remain. Christ was, before creeds gathered about Him; and it is because He is, that men must formulate doctrine to explain Him. I have long had the conviction that in religion nothing really matters but the Spirit of Christ. This is not to say that if we have, or claim to have, the Spirit of Christ, it makes no difference whether we do, or do not, believe in the "historical Christ." To my thinking such a position is nonsense. We may as well talk about an effect without a cause. Spirit must needs clothe itself with body. The "external may come in at different points of the process, but the internal without the external cannot exist." I am simply saying, that everything we need to know in a general sense about Christian doctrine becomes intelligible and reasonable, not when we approach Christ through our doubts and difficulties about doctrines, but our doubts and difficulties through Christ. In Him is life, and the life is the light of men. I care not for the moment what dogmas about Christ you accept or reject; I ask you to think, and then say, what heaven worth entering, of state or place, could close against us, were we in the Spirit of Christ walking in the footsteps of Christ? Then about feeling: Is there one of us who can say, that he, or she, has never had the impulse that should lead to Christian decision? Long as we make it possible for God to appeal to us, He will find His own way. From Him is the impulse, whichever way it comes, but it is ours to put it in practice. But just as we do not wait for feeling to take us out to earn our bread, and keep a roof over our head, so it is a far nobler thing to turn to God from a sense of duty, and conscience, and spiritual need, than it is to depend upon feeling to make us do, what not to do, with or without feeling, is our loss and our shame. Do not wait for feeling. Begin your part in the work of your own salvation. If feeling carry you into decision, and it sometimes does, well and good. But for one case where feeling leads to decision there are probably a score where feeling must be made by what follows decision. Take care of doing, and feeling will take care of itself; and as we rejoice in its inspiration, we shall realize that, perhaps for the most part, it can come no other way. To have the joy of doing good, we must do good. We cannot have the tonic and bracing sense of vigour by saying we will climb the mountain. It is when we have scaled its heights that we have the experience of a new physical creation. Why wait, then, for what is waiting for us? The Divine Spirit is universal and infinite. It is the mother-soul of the universe, with eternal power and sweetness and beauty, and glory, shining down upon all men, stimulating them to be nobler, to go up higher. And when we accept the influence of the Holy Spirit seeking the divine in us, and co-operate with it, we have found the answer to the question: What must I do to be saved? Does any one say, I ask again, that he has never had this impulse? As truly can he say that he has never felt the sun. Let him take heed. The sun sets, and it is night. There can be a night of the soul--the darkest, blackest, most hopeless night of all. "He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life." To be saved is to live; and only to the life above us can the life within us respond. Out of Christ we do not live; we but exist. And existence at its highest estate has no power inherent in it to cast out the selfishness and death that build a hell's despair, in what might be the kingdom of heaven in our human life and world. Do we want to be saved? Do we desire life? Then pray, and begin at once to do what our heart and conscience tell us the Christ would have us do. Will to do the will, and doing it we shall enter, gradually at first, and then with more royal progress and joy unspeakable, into the truth of His word: "Because I live, ye shall live also." [1] Rev. W. L. Walker. [2] Dr. Lyman Abbot. DOES GOD HAVE FAIR-PLAY? "Know therefore that the Lord thy God, he is God, the faithful God."--Deut. vii. 9. X DOES GOD HAVE FAIR-PLAY? A professor in one of our colleges, who is an acknowledged authority on the prophets of the Old Testament, gave a course of lectures lately on his own subject to a summer school of theology. His aim in one of these prelections was to show how the prophet Jeremiah developed himself by debate and discussion with God. At its close an elderly clergyman, shaking the lecturer by the hand, said to him: "I was delighted to hear what you said about Jeremiah. I myself have for forty years preached the right and duty of men to stand up to their Maker." It was, to say the least, a crude way of expressing himself; but the man had a meaning, and I think I know what it was. We may, to a large extent, have grown out of the old Calvinistic representation of God; but its reflex influence abides in a greater degree than we perhaps realize. This representation puts its emphasis, not so much upon the Fatherhood as upon the Sovereignty of God. It holds man responsible for the moral quality of his actions to God; but all reference to man's claims upon God are met with the stern question: "Shall the thing formed say to Him that formed it, Why hast Thou made me thus?" Whatever the Apostle may have meant, this question has been used to support an intolerable position, and the clergyman spoke out his revolt against it. His divinely implanted instinct of justice assured him that a God, who is to command our intellectual confidence and heart-trust, must, while exercising the prerogatives of a Sovereign, accept the responsibilities of a Father. Family life would break all to pieces if we as fathers did not carry our recognition of the claims and rights of children past a severe, however just, parental authority and control into the larger realm of wise liberty and undoubted affection. And it is out of the best and highest we know of our relations to one another, that we are to understand what we ought to be to God, and what God has promised to be to us. For God not only affirms His responsibility to us, He challenges us to say, whether, having done our part, we have weighed His part in the balance and found it wanting. It is the declaration of the Scriptures from beginning to end, that the Lord our God is a faithful God. Through the mouth of one of His prophets He confronts us with a question which, were it not His own question, would hurt us as almost profane: "What iniquity have your fathers found in me, that they have gone far from me?" We need not shrink, therefore, from talking reverently about the responsibility of God, for He asks us to build our trust, not only in His promises, but upon our experience of the faithfulness with which He has kept His promises. What, then, is our testimony? Has God been faithful to us; and if so, are we justified in assuming that the same faithfulness is the experience of others? "Know therefore that the Lord thy God, He is God, the faithful God." Take this affirmation on its lowest grounds--as touching material things. It is not said that man does not live by bread, when it is said that he lives not by bread alone. We may insist upon it, that material concerns are not worthy to be compared with the things of the spirit; but this does not affect the truth, that while we are on this planet we must have material things. Jesus has told us that, "Our Heavenly Father knoweth what things we have need of before we ask Him." It does not follow that the things we desire are the things we need. Christ does not pledge the divine faithfulness to our desires; it is pledged to our needs. And how is it redeemed, even in the case of the latter? Think for a moment of the poverty there is amid all our plenty. Think of the evils and misery that are the consequence as well as the cause of poverty. There are thousands of men, and women, and children dying every year in India from want and sheer starvation. We are told that, in each case, a penny a day would mean comparative plenty. They are God's creatures, willing, and indeed eager, to work themselves to skin and bone for a penny a day, and they cannot earn it. Think again of the untold human beings nearer home, locked in a warfare from which there is no discharge but death; the grim struggle for a bare existence, with its chances at every turn of sickness, accident, no work, and then the abyss. When we have reckoned off the probable proportion of those who have done much to make the conditions in which they find themselves, we have a large percentage of people who are no more responsible for the poverty and suffering they have to endure than they are responsible for the fact that they are in the world which uses them so harshly. For my part I can offer no explanation of these things, that can give a sensitive heart and an honest mind more than a very moderate degree of satisfaction. There are communities, and even races of people, whose existence in this world appears to have no immediate relation to their own personal happiness and well-being. They come and pass away as phases of what we must believe is an evolution towards higher things. But this is the question: Have they who compose this lonely and sombre procession no claims upon their Maker in the meanwhile? I do not believe that one human soul will fail of absolute, abundant, and rich compensation, in those eternal years that are at God's right hand. I have a word to say about this later, but for the present I may say that I answer many questions by my conviction that what we call death does not end all. Columbus is reported to have said: "I must have another continent to keep the earth's balance true." And I must have the personal conscious future, which is to right the wrongs of the ages, if I am to believe and preach the faithfulness of God. But we must guard against an impatience which is our littleness. In the immense times of the Almighty, every dark mystery of human being can move away, and leave the "sky of Providence at last, arching over the soul with not a cloud to dim its stars." For my present faith I hold it true with one who trusts-- "That nothing walks with aimless feet, That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete." When any man confronts me with the inequalities of our human lot, with the suffering many have to endure from causes they have not instituted, and circumstances over which they have no control, I may be, and often am, obliged to make him a present of much that he has to urge. But there are two things to be said, on the other side, which I can only briefly indicate, and ask you to work them out in your own mind. I affirm as the first of the two, that the good in our life far outweighs the evil. When all is said, happiness is the rule of our normal experience, and not misery. We hear much, for example, about the suffering which is part of the order of the animal creation; how a stronger beast feeds upon a weaker, and is in turn the prey of another stronger still. While again we are told that the joys of these myriads of sentient creatures are immeasurably greater than their pains. They have pleasure more than sufficient to justify their call into existence, in spite of the drawbacks to their happiness incident to the conditions of their existence. I am satisfied that the latter representation is true of the animal world, as I am convinced that it is true of the human. Let what may be said to the contrary, life is a mighty boon. When men bring in a verdict of unsound mind in a case of suicide, the instinct may have more to do with it than the order of evidence on which the verdict is based. We have to conclude that a man was insane before he could lay violent hands on himself. Look back upon our life, we who have travelled some distance into it, and let us say whether so far we do not account it a blessing to have lived and to be living. We have had our hard lines, and we have known the pleasant places; we have had our sorrows, and we have had our joys; we have been under the clouds, and we have lived in the sunshine. Nay, I dare go further and say, that for a day we have had of the former, we have had a week of the latter. It is a narrow and unworthy conception of happiness to invest all our chances of it in the accident of circumstances. There is some force in the saying, that heaven is here or nowhere. If we have any thought of happiness worth turning into a fact, our life may be filled with it though the hardest possible circumstances be surrounding us. Not where we are, but what we are, makes our much or little whether of good or ill. It is an ungrateful proceeding to go through life consuming as much as possible of the fruits of a gracious present, and yet with only plaints and complaints about the legislation which tempers the blessings with the little severity needed to teach us what the blessings are. Some one has remarked that it is the whole tragedy, and ultimately the whole power of the Christian religion, that it is attacked from every side. It is accused of faults that are hopelessly inconsistent with each other. One day it is charged with making man too responsible; the next, with not making him responsible enough. The truth is, that we need not try to make man too responsible in order to make him responsible enough. It has often been pointed out, that the Christian religion is by turns optimistic and pessimistic. St. Paul is pessimist enough where he says: "For I know that in me--that is, in my flesh--dwelleth no good thing." But who so optimistic as the same Apostle when he declares: "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." Much of the secret of it, under God, is in a cultivated and consecrated will. Every matter, says Epictetus, has two handles, and you can choose which handle you will take. Every man has in him some promise of the gradual supremacy of character over the accidents, happenings, forces and factors of circumstances. These may be his tests; they need not be his fate. "The real vital division of the religious part of our Protestant communities," says Wendell Holmes, "is into Christian optimists and Christian pessimists." I would rank myself among the former and say again, that the good in the conditions of our life far outweighs the ill. And while maintaining this position, I would also, as the second of the two things to be urged, have us face the question, Who is responsible for the ill there is? George Meredith, in a reference to this subject, declares that no man can _think_, and not think hopefully. Whether or not this be true in the case of every man who thinks, this can be said--it ought to be true. Instead of multiplying words to no profit over the old question, Why all this misery and suffering? let us think for a moment in another direction, and we shall perchance be encouraged to think hopefully. It has been said that human wisdom has arrived at no juster and higher view of the present state, than that it is intended to call forth power by obstruction; the power of a life that is perfect and entire, by the responsibility of choice between the things that make or mar it. If God can rank in us nothing higher than character, and if character on the man side can be achieved only out of right choice translated in its kindred action--then it must follow that the power to choose the right is the power to choose the wrong. Which means in the fewest words, that sin, and all the ills and suffering that proceed out of its selfishness, are the issue of this possibility of fatal choosing. If it be asked: "Why the possibility at all?" I answer that without it men would cease to be men and become something else; and what that something else would be need not enter into our speculation. It is because we can do wrong that we can do right; and if we think about this, may we not think hopefully? It is the fashion in our day to write and talk as though heredity, and the effects of the accumulation of heredity, were somehow sinister enough to drape the heavens in black, and silence all the songs of the angels. This law, we are told, can have no moral interpretation consistent with freedom and responsibility. The more than tendency of much that is being written and said is to depress the mind with a sense of the relentless force of general laws and influences, and to diminish in the individual the conviction of his power to contend against them. I would avoid dogmatism about this matter and simply say that this seems plain to me: for one drawback we meet along the pathway of inheritances, we have a very legion of resource and help through the gains of time, and of the race. The penalties we have to pay for transgression against law are not a just indictment of the law, they are the penalty of its transgression; a by-product, which is always a decaying product as the character of the race heightens. The purpose of God in us is character, and once we have it, established in divine grace and ensphered in the human will of a sufficient number of us, we shall soon make our new and better world. Without this character we may hope for nothing, with it we need despair of nothing. Granted then for a moment that we had but a little more of this God-fibre running through our individual and our collective life, such an experience as physical want would become but a memory of a hideous past. This good old mother-earth can yield us, not only enough to go round, but enough to go round in generous abundance. Why is it that a few have so much more than they can use, and so many have less than they need? Do we think that God wills it? Can we conceive of it as having any part in the economy of the Kingdom which Jesus came to establish on the earth? It is not God, but our selfishness that wills it; a selfishness that has its length of days and its malign power in the widespread folly and culpable ignorance that play into its hands. Think again for a moment about the effects on society as a whole of the intemperate use of strong drink. They are incarnated in horrors, look where we will. The injuries which simply swarm out of our licensed temptations to drunkenness are not exceptional and irregular; they are, as one of the most eminent of our publicists has said, "uniform as the movements of the planets, and as deadly as the sirocco of the desert or the malaria of the marshes." There is not a profession round which drink has not thrown the spell of its sorcery; scarcely a household that has not been despoiled by its leprous pollution. And who is responsible for it? Does any one doubt that if the Christian Churches looked at this accursed traffic through the eyes of God, and attacked it with faith in His omnipotence, that we could not break its back within the next ten years? Long as we are content merely to run the eyes of our intelligence over the episodes of this great battle of wrong against right; to mark down its critical moments, and to analyse its issues while careful above all things not to implicate ourselves in the agonies of its crises, then let us not challenge the faithfulness of God for wrongs and sorrows brought into the world, and kept here by our selfishness. Those of us who have part or lot in this selfishness--and most of us have--let us, at any rate, play the game, and accept our own responsibility. I do not wonder at the severity there is in the human world; for hard as it falls in places, it is yet the sign-manual of its uplifting and hope. We sometimes talk bitterly about the crucifixions in our life; but believe it when I say, that a world without them would be a dark and terrible vision. If we could do evil with impunity, if its punishment were a mere peradventure, it would mean that evil was the heart of the world. We may be profoundly thankful that wrong and suffering are cause and effect which nothing can break. Were it not so, it would mean that under skies dark and pitiless, a brutal scramble to survive would be the law, as in the animal world it is said to be the instinct. I know that many come into the world and leave it, never having had the chance to be all they might have been in more gracious circumstances. But I can trust them with Him who is too wise to err, and too good to be unjust. This, then, is as far as I have got with the general merits of the subject before us. To say there are experiences in the lives of individuals, and even of communities, which we cannot explain, is no proof that the universe is immoral. I submit to you, that the good in our lot infinitely outweighs the ill for which we are not directly responsible; and that the consequences of the ill for which we are directly responsible are intended to chastise it out of existence. May I counsel you to think about what has been said? Remember there are some things God cannot do for us, and yet leave us men. He cannot make a better world without the consent of our individual obedience and the co-operation of our will. I should, I trust, be the last man to ask people to be content, or even patient, with things as they are in the life that now is, on the assumption merely that they are to be better in the life that is to be. I do not say that heaven is here or nowhere; but I do believe that it ought to be here, in its degree, as truly as anywhere else. If we can think of contempt as part of the Being of God, surely this must be His feeling for much of the wrong and suffering that finds a place in the human world. It is so gratuitous, so insensate, so unnecessary. Is it not a terrible reflection upon some of us, that after the Cross has been silently teaching the world these well-nigh two thousand years, it can yet be said with some show of reason, that the two forces that keep society, as we know it, together, are the ignorance and the patience of the poor? Why should they be so long ignorant? Why should they be so chronically patient? The sorrow of God must be, not only that they suffer, but that they are so patient under it as to make it scarcely distinguishable from content. And why are they so patient? This is the question God is asking through every thoughtful and humane man of us; and one day--man with God speed its coming--we shall be numerous enough, and in earnest enough, to establish some real harmony, some true correspondence, between the inner dignity and the outward lot of the individual, and, through him, of the community. In the meantime, then, instead of asking, how can God be God and permit wrong to be in the world? let us face the truth, however it may smite us, the truth that wrong is in the world for this reason--that we permit it. Growing out of what has been advanced, suffer me to press the subject a little further, under one or two statements. I purpose to do little more than indicate them, and to ask for them your good consideration. God is faithful: therefore good must be possible. I was talking some time ago with a very intelligent man, who has a well-known name in the world of letters, and he said to me: "I admit that we have made something that answers to progress in material things, but I deny that we have made any advance in moral attainment. A few rise above the average level, for the rest it is the old story of cycles of abortive effort with no lasting good to the race. We may theorize and idealize as we like," he went on to say, "but Bebel is right when he tells us that 'every man is the product of his times and the instrument of his circumstances.'" It was talk that exactly expresses much of the "time-spirit" of our modern day. It is a doctrine with no God in it, and no invisible world. It assumes that man has no vision and no volition; that he is a mere billiard-ball in the game of existence, which goes whithersoever the cue of blind fate sends it. That one man rises, and another falls, is neither the virtue of one nor the vice of the other, but the necessity of both. We follow the better if we have the accident of certain gifts, or we take hold of the worse, if we have not. In either case we are no more responsible for our direction than we are responsible for the fact that we have to take a direction at all. I shall not build up words in trying to answer this position. I can conceive of no man who has some conscience left, however he may seek a refuge from himself in this doctrine of moral irresponsibility, who, at the soul of him, does not know it to be a lie. We commonly use the terms evil and sin as interchangeable; and in doing so we are apt to fall into confusion. Evil is, as it were, embedded in our nature; and for that we are not accountable. Sin, as I have said before, is in yielding to the evil, and that is our responsibility. St. Paul speaks of the evil he found in his nature, and while he admits its malignant power, he does not represent himself as powerless to contend against it. He accepts no responsibility for the fact that evil is there; but he does accept responsibility for what he does with it, or what it does with him. "Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, Another thing to fall." I know with any man the power of evil in my heart; and while it may come, as it were, in spite of myself, I can determine the question as to whether it shall stay. It is the vilest heresy of our day to preach and believe that circumstances can absolve us from our duty; or that they can prevent us from following the right. The battle is hard, at times very hard, but what battle is not hard that is worth winning? Put religion out of the question, and do we find that the prizes of the world offer us easier terms? It is the greatness of the Christian religion, that it not only tells us what it were good to do, but it offers to us the power to do it. The great teachers of the world have said to their disciples: "Accept our ideas"; Christ says: "Accept Me." "He makes everything centre in His Own Personality." And the men who have helped to make what so far in our human world is grand and glorious, have shown us that Christ's word is a real word, meaning a real thing. One who has the right to testify has told us that, when we do the will of God as if it were our own will, we realize that God is doing our will as His own. There is a great truth in this. We so often fail because ours is a broken obedience. We expect God to do His part, while we keep back part of the price of our own, and what response we have is the sense of being mocked in ourselves. We have to find out that we cannot serve two masters. However we fall short in practice, the intention must be all for God, or it will be none. But let us be genuine co-workers with Him in this great work of personal character-building; and we find that we have a power not ourselves, and infinitely greater than ourselves. Our achievements are not so much a question of gift, as of dynamic. They are not in the machinery, but in the driving power. "How is it"--was a question recently asked concerning one of the most useful men in the Christian ministry--"that with his obvious limitations he has accomplished so much?" And the answer was: "Because he has made it possible for God to use him for all he is worth." Failure is impossible in the man who can say: "I live, and yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." We cannot explain the power; but it is there, and we all may have it by obedience to the conditions through which it can be given. "I have been down deep in the hell of moral failure," writes one, "and by the grace of God I have come out of it. I may not be able to explain His grace to the satisfaction of others; but will others explain me to my own?" Our lives may be the living evidences of this power. The world asks for no more; the world will accept no less. Our day, we are told, has ceased to believe in such miracles. It were truer to say that it has ceased to believe in anything else. Goodness is possible; and not to achieve it is to defeat the purpose for which we were born into this world. Let us believe in goodness. Let us learn to love goodness because it is goodness. Let us say, and live our word, that there are no charges we can pay which we are not prepared to pay to be, and to do, that which is possible to us--and God will not fail us. Any man who is putting out all his strength in work and prayer to build up his higher nature need have no devil-fear that his strength will not be equal to his day. He may not be able to choose his circumstances; but he can show that he, and not the circumstances, is the master. He can offer to the world the living proof that the triumph of good is possible to him whose power is the faithful God. And once more: Because He is faithful who has promised, we may safely leave the issues of our life in His keeping. If by the help of God we are trying to do the will of God, nothing else really matters. The crooked places of to-day will be made straight to-morrow. After all, it is not more knowledge we need, but more power to use the knowledge we have. Much of our unrest only means that we want to know more than the silent God sees fit to tell us. We know enough for the wise ordering of life; and the highest, holiest thing any of us can do, is to do the wisest and best we know, in whatever honest sphere circumstances have placed us. The riddles of the universe, and the perplexities and heartache which come out of our attempts to reconcile much that we know and see with the rule of an Almighty, an all-wise and faithful God--these will be here long after we are gone. We must just take the Master at His word when He says: "What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter." "We cannot," says a wise teacher, "take up a drop of water, and find in that drop the flow of the tides, and the soft and then loud music of calm and storm. To see the ocean we must grasp it in all its rocky bed, bordered by continents." So before the very present troubles of life, we cannot see all the government of the faithful God. It has boundaries wider than these. Human life is but a fraction of the sum of life. The tides of the mind, the music and the tumult of human waters, cannot be heard and felt in this drop of existence. We may believe that the moral government of the world is in the hands of Him whose love and law are both the same; and we may, at the same time, have to recognize the fact, that so many suffer grievously from forces they have not called into being, and which they are almost helpless to control. We may have to reconcile as best we can, a general Providence, with much apparent severity in its particular operation. Unless this be understood, some parts of this address will appear inconsistent with each other. I leave this order of suffering--not its causes--with the responsibility of God; and, for myself, I am persuaded that our last word about it will be one of praise, and not of reproach-- "Right for a while may yield to wrong, And virtue be baffled by crime, But the help of our need and the might of our creed Are faith, patience, courage, and time." But to say that the faithfulness of God cannot be fully measured now is not to say that it cannot be measured at all. Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God, and our life will not only come out right at the end, it will come out right all the way. The lesson for us to learn is to labour and to wait; to give God and ourselves space to work in. Whether God is in His heaven or not, of this I am sure, that, given time, right always comes to its own, and all wrong, sooner or later, is defeat and disaster. Time forgets nothing, it omits nothing which God requires at our hands. It may not be ours to choose our task, but we can choose to do it well. What is really everyday religion is to do common things in an uncommon spirit. There is nothing for us in the world that needs a lie; nothing that excuses us from the wise admonition-- "Count that day lost whose low descending sun Views by thy hand no worthy action done." Then let us just go on doing the highest we know, and the best we can. The reward may not seem to be to-day, nor yet to-morrow; but we shall see that it was everyday and all the way, when we look back upon it from the shores of the life eternal. Let us trust the faithful God, and we shall be taught to regard the troubles that test, and the limitations that perplex us, as the agents of His Providence through the courses of time. And as we see in each new revelation of His goodness and mercy towards us an added circle of splendour in His halo of light, we shall learn to say of ourselves, and the race of which we form a part-- "The God of Truth and Love, The Ancient Friend of man, Makes every age an onward stage, And has, since time began; Sing ye praises, oh, sing praises, God has a glorious plan." 
14453	----	THE HOPE OF THE GOSPEL BY GEORGE MACDONALD CONTENTS SALVATION FROM SIN THE REMISSION OF SINS JESUS IN THE WORLD JESUS AND HIS FELLOW TOWNSMEN THE HEIRS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH SORROW THE PLEDGE OF JOY GOD'S FAMILY THE REWARD OF OBEDIENCE THE YOKE OF JESUS THE SALT AND THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD THE RIGHT HAND AND THE LEFT THE HOPE OF THE UNIVERSE _SALVATION FROM SIN_. --and thou shalt call his name Jesus; for he shall save his people from their sins.--_Matthew_ i. 21. I would help some to understand what Jesus came from the home of our Father to be to us and do for us. Everything in the world is more or less misunderstood at first: we have to learn what it is, and come at length to see that it must be so, that it could not be otherwise. Then we know it; and we never know a thing _really_ until we know it thus. I presume there is scarce a human being who, resolved to speak openly, would not confess to having something that plagued him, something from which he would gladly be free, something rendering it impossible for him, at the moment, to regard life as an altogether good thing. Most men, I presume, imagine that, free of such and such things antagonistic, life would be an unmingled satisfaction, worthy of being prolonged indefinitely. The causes of their discomfort are of all kinds, and the degrees of it reach from simple uneasiness to a misery such as makes annihilation the highest hope of the sufferer who can persuade himself of its possibility. Perhaps the greater part of the energy of this world's life goes forth in the endeavour to rid itself of discomfort. Some, to escape it, leave their natural surroundings behind them, and with strong and continuous effort keep rising in the social scale, to discover at every new ascent fresh trouble, as they think, awaiting them, whereas in truth they have brought the trouble with them. Others, making haste to be rich, are slow to find out that the poverty of their souls, none the less that their purses are filling, will yet keep them unhappy. Some court endless change, nor know that on themselves the change must pass that will set them free. Others expand their souls with knowledge, only to find that content will not dwell in the great house they have built. To number the varieties of human endeavour to escape discomfort would be to enumerate all the modes of such life as does not know how to live. All seek the thing whose defect appears the _cause_ of their misery, and is but the variable _occasion_ of it, the cause of the shape it takes, not of the misery itself; for, when one apparent cause is removed, another at once succeeds. The real cause of his trouble is a something the man has not perhaps recognized as even existent; in any case he is not yet acquainted with its true nature. However absurd the statement may appear to one who has not yet discovered the fact for himself, the cause of every man's discomfort is evil, moral evil--first of all, evil in himself, his own sin, his own wrongness, his own unrightness; and then, evil in those he loves: with this latter I have not now to deal; the only way to get rid of it, is for the man to get rid of his own sin. No special sin may be recognizable as having caused this or that special physical discomfort--which may indeed have originated with some ancestor; but evil in ourselves is the cause of its continuance, the source of its necessity, and the preventive of that patience which would soon take from it, or at least blunt its sting. The evil is _essentially_ unnecessary, and passes with the attainment of the object for which it is permitted--namely, the development of pure will in man; the suffering also is essentially unnecessary, but while the evil lasts, the suffering, whether consequent or merely concomitant, is absolutely necessary. Foolish is the man, and there are many such men, who would rid himself or his fellows of discomfort by setting the world right, by waging war on the evils around him, while he neglects that integral part of the world where lies his business, his first business--namely, his own character and conduct. Were it possible--an absurd supposition--that the world should thus be righted from the outside, it would yet be impossible for the man who had contributed to the work, remaining what he was, ever to enjoy the perfection of the result; himself not in tune with the organ he had tuned, he must imagine it still a distracted, jarring instrument. The philanthropist who regards the wrong as in the race, forgetting that the race is made up of conscious and wrong individuals, forgets also that wrong is always generated in and done by an individual; that the wrongness exists in the individual, and by him is passed over, as tendency, to the race; and that no evil can be cured in the race, except by its being cured in its individuals: tendency is not absolute evil; it is there that it may be resisted, not yielded to. There is no way of making three men right but by making right each one of the three; but a cure in one man who repents and turns, is a beginning of the cure of the whole human race. Even if a man's suffering be a far inheritance, for the curing of which by faith and obedience this life would not be sufficiently long, faith and obedience will yet render it endurable to the man, and overflow in help to his fellow-sufferers. The groaning body, wrapt in the garment of hope, will, with outstretched neck, look for its redemption, and endure. The one cure for any organism, is to be set right--to have all its parts brought into harmony with each other; the one comfort is to know this cure in process. Rightness alone is cure. The return of the organism to its true self, is its only possible ease. To free a man from suffering, he must be set right, put in health; and the health at the root of man's being, his rightness, is to be free from wrongness, that is, from sin. A man is right when there is no wrong in him. The wrong, the evil is in him; he must be set free from it. I do not mean set free from the sins he has done: that will follow; I mean the sins he is doing, or is capable of doing; the sins in his being which spoil his nature--the wrongness in him--the evil he consents to; the sin he is, which makes him do the sin he does. To save a man from his sins, is to say to him, in sense perfect and eternal, 'Rise up and walk. Be at liberty in thy essential being. Be free as the son of God is free.' To do this for us, Jesus was born, and remains born to all the ages. When misery drives a man to call out to the source of his life,--and I take the increasing outcry against existence as a sign of the growth of the race toward a sense of the need of regeneration--the answer, I think, will come in a quickening of his conscience. This earnest of the promised deliverance may not, in all probability will not be what the man desires; he will want only to be rid of his suffering; but that he cannot have, save in being delivered from its essential root, a thing infinitely worse than any suffering it can produce. If he will not have that deliverance, he must keep his suffering. Through chastisement he will take at last the only way that leads into the liberty of that which is and must be. There can be no deliverance but to come out of his evil dream into the glory of God. It is true that Jesus came, in delivering us from our sins, to deliver us also from the painful consequences of our sins. But these consequences exist by the one law of the universe, the true will of the Perfect. That broken, that disobeyed by the creature, disorganization renders suffering inevitable; it is the natural consequence of the unnatural--and, in the perfection of God's creation, the result is curative of the cause; the pain at least tends to the healing of the breach. The Lord never came to deliver men from the consequences of their sins while yet those sins remained: that would be to cast out of window the medicine of cure while yet the man lay sick; to go dead against the very laws of being. Yet men, loving their sins, and feeling nothing of their dread hatefulness, have, consistently with their low condition, constantly taken this word concerning the Lord to mean that he came to save them from the punishment of their sins. The idea--the miserable fancy rather--has terribly corrupted the preaching of the gospel. The message of the good news has not been truly delivered. Unable to believe in the forgiveness of their Father in heaven, imagining him not at liberty to forgive, or incapable of forgiving forthright; not really believing him God our Saviour, but a God bound, either in his own nature or by a law above him and compulsory upon him, to exact some recompense or satisfaction for sin, a multitude of teaching men have taught their fellows that Jesus came to bear our punishment and save us from hell. They have represented a result as the object of his mission--the said result nowise to be desired by true man save as consequent on the gain of his object. The mission of Jesus was from the same source and with the same object as the punishment of our sins. He came to work along with our punishment. He came to side with it, and set us free from our sins. No man is safe from hell until he is free from his sins; but a man to whom his sins, that is the evil things in him, are a burden, while he may indeed sometimes feel as if he were in hell, will soon have forgotten that ever he had any other hell to think of than that of his sinful condition. For to him his sins are hell; he would go to the other hell to be free of them; free of them, hell itself would be endurable to him. For hell is God's and not the devil's. Hell is on the side of God and man, to free the child of God from the corruption of death. Not one soul will ever be redeemed from hell but by being saved from his sins, from the evil in him. If hell be needful to save him, hell will blaze, and the worm will writhe and bite, until he takes refuge in the will of the Father. 'Salvation from hell, is salvation as conceived by such to whom hell and not evil is the terror.' But if even for dread of hell a poor soul seek the Father, he will be heard of him in his terror, and, taught of him to seek the immeasurably greater gift, will in the greater receive the less. There is another important misapprehension of the words of the messengers of the good tidings--that they threaten us with punishment because of the sins we have committed, whereas their message is of forgiveness, not of vengeance; of deliverance, not of evil to come. Not for anything he has committed do they threaten a man with the outer darkness. Not for any or all of his sins that are past shall a man be condemned; not for the worst of them needs he dread remaining unforgiven. The sin he dwells in, the sin he will not come out of, is the sole ruin of a man. His present, his live sins--those pervading his thoughts and ruling his conduct; the sins he keeps doing, and will not give up; the sins he is called to abandon, and clings to; the same sins which are the cause of his misery, though he may not know it--these are they for which he is even now condemned. It is true the memory of the wrongs we have done is, or will become very bitter; but not for those is condemnation; and if that in our character which made them possible were abolished, remorse would lose its worst bitterness in the hope of future amends. 'This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.' It is the indwelling badness, ready to produce bad actions, that we need to be delivered from. Against this badness if a man will not strive, he is left to commit evil and reap the consequences. To be saved from these consequences, would be no deliverance; it would be an immediate, ever deepening damnation. It is the evil in our being--no essential part of it, thank God!--the miserable fact that the very child of God does not care for his father and will not obey him, causing us to desire wrongly, act wrongly, or, where we try not to act wrongly, yet making it impossible for us not to feel wrongly--this is what he came to deliver us from;--not the things we have done, but the possibility of doing such things any more. With the departure of this possibility, and with the hope of confession hereafter to those we have wronged, will depart also the power over us of the evil things we have done, and so we shall be saved from them also. The bad that lives in us, our evil judgments, our unjust desires, our hate and pride and envy and greed and self-satisfaction--these are the souls of our sins, our live sins, more terrible than the bodies of our sins, namely the deeds we do, inasmuch as they not only produce these loathsome things, but make us loathsome as they. Our wrong deeds are our dead works; our evil thoughts are our live sins. These, the essential opposites of faith and love, the sins that dwell and work in us, are the sins from which Jesus came to deliver us. When we turn against them and refuse to obey them, they rise in fierce insistence, but the same moment begin to die. We are then on the Lord's side, as he has always been on ours, and he begins to deliver us from them. Anything in you, which, in your own child, would make you feel him not so pleasant as you would have him, is something wrong. This may mean much to one, little or nothing to another. Things in a child which to one parent would not seem worth minding, would fill another with horror. After his moral development, where the one parent would smile, the other would look aghast, perceiving both the present evil, and the serpent-brood to follow. But as the love of him who is love, transcends ours as the heavens are higher than the earth, so must he desire in his child infinitely more than the most jealous love of the best mother can desire in hers. He would have him rid of all discontent, all fear, all grudging, all bitterness in word or thought, all gauging and measuring of his own with a different rod from that he would apply to another's. He will have no curling of the lip; no indifference in him to the man whose service in any form he uses; no desire to excel another, no contentment at gaining by his loss. He will not have him receive the smallest service without gratitude; would not hear from him a tone to jar the heart of another, a word to make it ache, be the ache ever so transient. From such, as from all other sins, Jesus was born to deliver us; not, primarily, or by itself, from the punishment of any of them. When all are gone, the holy punishment will have departed also. He came to make us good, and therein blessed children. One master-sin is at the root of all the rest. It is no individual action, or anything that comes of mood, or passion; it is the non-recognition by the man, and consequent inactivity in him, of the highest of all relations, that relation which is the root and first essential condition of every other true relation of or in the human soul. It is the absence in the man of harmony with the being whose thought is the man's existence, whose word is the man's power of thought. It is true that, being thus his offspring, God, as St Paul affirms, cannot be far from any one of us: were we not in closest contact of creating and created, we could not exist; as we have in us no power to be, so have we none to continue being; but there is a closer contact still, as absolutely necessary to our well-being and highest existence, as the other to our being at all, to the mere capacity of faring well or ill. For the highest creation of God in man is his will, and until the highest in man meets the highest in God, their true relation is not yet a spiritual fact. The flower lies in the root, but the root is not the flower. The relation exists, but while one of the parties neither knows, loves, nor acts upon it, the relation is, as it were, yet unborn. The highest in man is neither his intellect nor his imagination nor his reason; all are inferior to his will, and indeed, in a grand way, dependent upon it: his will must meet God's--a will _distinct_ from God's, else were no _harmony_ possible between them. Not the less, therefore, but the more, is all God's. For God creates in the man the power to will His will. It may cost God a suffering man can never know, to bring the man to the point at which he will will His will; but when he is brought to that point, and declares for the truth, that is, for the will of God, he becomes one with God, and the end of God in the man's creation, the end for which Jesus was born and died, is gained. The man is saved from his sins, and the universe flowers yet again in his redemption. But I would not be supposed, from what I have said, to imagine the Lord without sympathy for the sorrows and pains which reveal what sin is, and by means of which he would make men sick of sin. With everything human he sympathizes. Evil is not human; it is the defect and opposite of the human; but the suffering that follows it is human, belonging of necessity to the human that has sinned: while it is by cause of sin, suffering is _for_ the sinner, that he may be delivered from his sin. Jesus is in himself aware of every human pain. He feels it also. In him too it is pain. With the energy of tenderest love he wills his brothers and sisters free, that he may fill them to overflowing with that essential thing, joy. For that they were indeed created. But the moment they exist, truth becomes the first thing, not happiness; and he must make them true. Were it possible, however, for pain to continue after evil was gone, he would never rest while one ache was yet in the world. Perfect in sympathy, he feels in himself, I say, the tortured presence of every nerve that lacks its repose. The man may recognize the evil in him only as pain; he may know little and care nothing about his sins; yet is the Lord sorry for his pain. He cries aloud, 'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' He does not say, 'Come unto me, all ye that feel the burden of your sins;' he opens his arms to all weary enough to come to him in the poorest hope of rest. Right gladly would he free them from their misery--but he knows only one way: he will teach them to be like himself, meek and lowly, bearing with gladness the yoke of his father's will. This is the one, the only right, the only possible way of freeing them from their sins, the cause of their unrest. With them the weariness comes first; with him the sins: there is but one cure for both--the will of the Father. That which is his joy will be their deliverance! He might indeed, it may be, take from them the human, send them down to some lower stage of being, and so free them from suffering--but that must be either a descent toward annihilation, or a fresh beginning to grow up again toward the region of suffering they have left; for that which is not growing must at length die out of creation. The disobedient and selfish would fain in the hell of their hearts possess the liberty and gladness that belong to purity and love, but they cannot have them; they are weary and heavy-laden, both with what they are, and because of what they were made for but are not. The Lord knows what they need; they know only what they want. They want ease; he knows they need purity. Their very existence is an evil, of which, but for his resolve to purify them, their maker must rid his universe. How can he keep in his sight a foul presence? Must the creator send forth his virtue to hold alive a thing that will be evil--a thing that ought not to be, that has no claim but to cease? The Lord himself would not live save with an existence absolutely good. It may be my reader will desire me to say _how_ the Lord will deliver him from his sins. That is like the lawyer's 'Who is my neighbour?' The spirit of such a mode of receiving the offer of the Lord's deliverance, is the root of all the horrors of a corrupt theology, so acceptable to those who love weak and beggarly hornbooks of religion. Such questions spring from the passion for the fruit of the tree of knowledge, not the fruit of the tree of life. Men would understand: they do not care to _obey_,--understand where it is impossible they should understand save by obeying. They would search into the work of the Lord instead of doing their part in it--thus making it impossible both for the Lord to go on with his work, and for themselves to become capable of seeing and understanding what he does. Instead of immediately obeying the Lord of life, the one condition upon which he can help them, and in itself the beginning of their deliverance, they set themselves to question their unenlightened intellects as to his plans for their deliverance--and not merely how he means to effect it, but how he can be able to effect it. They would bind their Samson until they have scanned his limbs and thews. Incapable of understanding the first motions of freedom in themselves, they proceed to interpret the riches of his divine soul in terms of their own beggarly notions, to paraphrase his glorious verse into their own paltry commercial prose; and then, in the growing presumption of imagined success, to insist upon their neighbours' acceptance of their distorted shadows of 'the plan of salvation' as the truth of him in whom is no darkness, and the one condition of their acceptance with him. They delay setting their foot on the stair which alone can lead them to the house of wisdom, until they shall have determined the material and mode of its construction. For the sake of knowing, they postpone that which alone can enable them to know, and substitute for the true understanding which lies beyond, a false persuasion that they already understand. They will not accept, that is, act upon, their highest privilege, that of obeying the Son of God. It is on them that do his will, that the day dawns; to them the day-star arises in their hearts. Obedience is the soul of knowledge. By obedience, I intend no kind of obedience to man, or submission to authority claimed by man or community of men. I mean obedience to the will of the Father, however revealed in our conscience. God forbid I should seem to despise understanding. The New Testament is full of urgings to understand. Our whole life, to be life at all, must be a growth in understanding. What I cry out upon is the misunderstanding that comes of man's endeavour to understand while not obeying. Upon obedience our energy must be spent; understanding will follow. Not anxious to know our duty, or knowing it and not doing it, how shall we understand that which only a true heart and a clean soul can ever understand? The power in us that would understand were it free, lies in the bonds of imperfection and impurity, and is therefore incapable of judging the divine. It cannot see the truth. If it could see it, it would not know it, and would not have it. Until a man begins to obey, the light that is in him is darkness. Any honest soul may understand this much, however--for it is a thing we may of ourselves judge to be right--that the Lord cannot save a man from his sins while he holds to his sins. An omnipotence that could do and not do the same thing at the same moment, were an idea too absurd for mockery; an omnipotence that could at once make a man a free man, and leave him a self-degraded slave--make him the very likeness of God, and good only because he could not help being good, would be an idea of the same character--equally absurd, equally self-contradictory. But the Lord is not unreasonable; he requires no high motives where such could not yet exist. He does not say, 'You must be sorry for your sins, or you need not come to me:' to be sorry for his sins a man must love God and man, and love is the very thing that has to be developed in him. It is but common sense that a man, longing to be freed from suffering, or made able to bear it, should betake himself to the Power by whom he is. Equally is it common sense that, if a man would be delivered from the evil in him, he must himself begin to cast it out, himself begin to disobey it, and work righteousness. As much as either is it common sense that a man should look for and expect the help of his Father in the endeavour. Alone, he might labour to all eternity and not succeed. He who has not made himself, cannot set himself right without him who made him. But his maker is in him, and is his strength. The man, however, who, instead of doing what he is told, broods speculating on the metaphysics of him who calls him to his work, stands leaning his back against the door by which the Lord would enter to help him. The moment he sets about putting straight the thing that is crooked--I mean doing right where he has been doing wrong, he withdraws from the entrance, gives way for the Master to come in. He cannot make himself pure, but he can leave that which is impure; he can spread out the 'defiled, discoloured web' of his life before the bleaching sun of righteousness; he cannot save himself, but he can let the Lord save him. The struggle of his weakness is as essential to the coming victory as the strength of Him who resisted unto death, striving against sin. The sum of the whole matter is this:--The Son has come from the Father to set the children free from their sins; the children must hear and obey him, that he may send forth judgment unto victory. Son of our Father, help us to do what thou sayest, and so with thee die unto sin, that we may rise to the sonship for which we were created. Help us to repent even to the sending away of our sins. _THE REMISSION OF SINS._ John did baptize in the wilderness, and preach the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins.--_Mark_ i. 4. God and man must combine for salvation from sin, and the same word, here and elsewhere translated _remission_, seems to be employed in the New Testament for the share of either in the great deliverance. But first let me say something concerning the word here and everywhere translated _repentance_. I would not even suggest a mistranslation; but the idea intended by the word has been so misunderstood and therefore mistaught, that it requires some consideration of the word itself to get at a right recognition of the moral fact it represents. The Greek word then, of which the word _repentance_ is the accepted synonym and fundamentally the accurate rendering, is made up of two words, the conjoint meaning of which is, _a change of mind_ or _thought_. There is in it no intent of, or hint at _sorrow_ or _shame_, or any other of the mental conditions that, not unfrequently accompanying repentance, have been taken for essential parts of it, sometimes for its very essence. Here, the last of the prophets, or the evangelist who records his doings, qualifies the word, as if he held it insufficient in itself to convey the Baptist's meaning, with the three words that follow it--_[Greek: eis aPhesin amartiôn:--kaerussôn Baptisma metauoias eis aphesin amartiôn]_--'preaching a baptism of repentance--_unto a sending away of sins'._ I do not say the phrase _[Greek: aphesis amartiôn]_ never means _forgiveness,_ one form at least of _God's_ sending away of sins; neither do I say that the taking of the phrase to mean _repentance for the remission of sins_, namely, repentance in order to obtain the pardon of God, involves any inconsistency; but I say that the word _[Greek: eis]_ rather _unto_ than _for;_ that the word _[Greek: aphesis],_ translated _remission_, means, fundamentally, a _sending away,_ a _dismissal;_ and that the writer seems to use the added phrase to make certain what he means by _repentance;_ a repentance, namely, that reaches to the sending away, or abjurement of sins. I do not think _a change of mind unto the remission or pardon of sin_ would be nearly so logical a phrase as _a change of mind unto the dismission of sinning._ The revised version refuses the word _for_ and chooses _unto,_ though it retains _remission,_ which word, now, conveys no meaning except the forgiveness of God. I think that here the same word is used for man's dismission of his sins, as is elsewhere used for God's dismission or remission of them. In both uses, it is a sending away of sins, with the difference of meaning that comes from the differing sources of the action. Both God and man send away sins, but in the one case God sends away the sins of the man, and in the other the man sends away his own sins. I do not enter into the question whether God's aphesis may or may not mean as well the sending of his sins out of a man, as the pardon of them; whether it may not sometimes mean _dismission,_ and sometimes _remission_: I am sure the one deed cannot be separated from the other. That the phrase here intends repentance unto the ceasing from sin, the giving up of what is wrong, I will try to show at least probable. In the first place, the user of the phrase either defines the change of mind he means as one that has for its object the pardon of God, or as one that reaches to a new life: the latter seems to me the more natural interpretation by far. The kind and scope of the repentance or change, and not any end to be gained by it, appears intended. The change must be one of will and conduct--a radical change of life on the part of the man: he must repent--that is, change his mind--not to a different opinion, not even to a mere betterment of his conduct--not to anything less than a sending away of his sins. This interpretation of the preaching of the Baptist seems to me, I repeat, the more direct, the fuller of meaning, the more logical. Next, in St Matthew's gospel, the Baptist's buttressing argument, or imminent motive for the change he is pressing upon the people is, that the kingdom of heaven is at hand: 'Because the king of heaven is coming, you must give up your sinning.' The same argument for immediate action lies in his quotation from Isaiah,--'Prepare ye the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God.' The only true, the only possible preparation for the coming Lord, is to cease from doing evil, and begin to do well--to send away sin. They must cleanse, not the streets of their cities, not their houses or their garments or even their persons, but their hearts and their doings. It is true the Baptist did not see that the kingdom coming was not of this world, but of the higher world in the hearts of men; it is true that his faith failed him in his imprisonment, because he heard of no martial movement on the part of the Lord, no assertion of his sovereignty, no convincing show of his power; but he did see plainly that righteousness was essential to the kingdom of heaven. That he did not yet perceive that righteousness _is_ the kingdom of heaven; that he did not see that the Lord was already initiating his kingdom by sending away sin out of the hearts of his people, is not wonderful. The Lord's answer to his fore-runner's message of doubt, was to send his messenger back an eye-witness of what he was doing, so to wake or clarify in him the perception that his kingdom was not of this world--that he dealt with other means to another end than John had yet recognized as his mission or object; for obedient love in the heart of the poorest he healed or persuaded, was his kingdom come. Again, observe that, when the Pharisees came to John, he said to them, 'Bring forth therefore fruits meet for repentance:' is not this the same as, 'Repent unto the sending away of your sins'? Note also, that, when the multitudes came to the prophet, and all, with the classes most obnoxious to the rest, the publicans and the soldiers, asked what he would have them do--thus plainly recognizing that something was required of them--his instruction was throughout in the same direction: they must send away their sins; and each must begin with the fault that lay next him. The kingdom of heaven was at hand: they must prepare the way of the Lord by beginning to do as must be done in his kingdom. They could not rid themselves of their sins, but they could set about sending them away; they could quarrel with them, and proceed to turn them out of the house: the Lord was on his way to do his part in their final banishment. Those who had repented to the sending away of their sins, he would baptize with a holy power to send them away indeed. The operant will to get rid of them would be baptized with a fire that should burn them up. When a man breaks with his sins, then the wind of the Lord's fan will blow them away, the fire of the Lord's heart will consume them. I think, then, that the part of the repentant man, and not the part of God, in the sending away of sins, is intended here. It is the man's one preparation for receiving the power to overcome them, the baptism of fire. Not seldom, what comes in the name of the gospel of Jesus Christ, must seem, even to one not far from the kingdom of heaven, no good news at all. It does not draw him; it wakes in him not a single hope. He has no desire after what it offers him as redemption. The God it gives him news of, is not one to whom he would draw nearer. But when such a man comes to see that the very God must be his Life, the heart of his consciousness; when he perceives that, rousing himself to put from him what is evil, and do the duty that lies at his door, he may fearlessly claim the help of him who 'loved him into being,' then his will immediately sides with his conscience; he begins to try to _be_; and--first thing toward being--to rid himself of what is antagonistic to all being, namely _wrong_. Multitudes will not even approach the appalling task, the labour and pain of _being_. God is doing his part, is undergoing the mighty toil of an age-long creation, endowing men with power to be; but few as yet are those who take up their part, who respond to the call of God, who will to be, who put forth a divine effort after real existence. To the many, the spirit of the prophet cries, 'Turn ye, and change your way! The kingdom of heaven is near you. Let your king possess his own. Let God throne himself in you, that his liberty be your life, and you free men. That he may enter, clear the house for him. Send away the bad things out of it. Depart from evil, and do good. The duty that lieth at thy door, do it, be it great or small.' For indeed in this region there is no great or small. 'Be content with your wages,' said the Baptist to the soldiers. To many people now, the word would be, 'Rule your temper;' or, 'Be courteous to all;' or, 'Let each hold the other better than himself;' or, 'Be just to your neighbour that you may love him.' To make straight in the desert a highway for our God, we must bestir ourselves in the very spot of the desert on which we stand; we must cast far from us our evil thing that blocks the way of his chariot-wheels. If we do not, never will those wheels roll through our streets; never will our desert blossom with his roses. The message of John to his countrymen, was then, and is yet, the one message to the world:--'Send away your sins, for the kingdom of heaven is near.' Some of us--I cannot say _all_, for I do not know--who have already repented, who have long ago begun to send away our sins, need fresh repentance every day--how many times a day, God only knows. We are so ready to get upon some path that seems to run parallel with the narrow way, and then take no note of its divergence! What is there for us when we discover that we are out of the way, but to bethink ourselves and turn? By those 'who need no repentance,' the Lord may have meant such as had repented perfectly, had sent away all their sins, and were now with him in his Father's house; also such as have never sinned, and such as no longer turn aside for any temptation. We shall now, perhaps, be able to understand the relation of the Lord himself to the baptism of John. He came to John to be baptized; and most would say John's baptism was of repentance for the remission or pardon of sins. But the Lord could not be baptized for the remission of sins, for he had never done a selfish, an untrue, or an unfair thing. He had never wronged his Father, any more than ever his Father had wronged him. Happy, happy Son and Father, who had never either done the other wrong, in thought, word, or deed! As little had he wronged brother or sister. He needed no forgiveness; there was nothing to forgive. No more could he be baptized for repentance: in him repentance would have been to turn to evil! Where then was the propriety of his coming to be baptized by John, and insisting on being by him baptized? It must lie elsewhere. If we take the words of John to mean 'the baptism of repentance unto the sending away of sins;' and if we bear in mind that in his case repentance could not be, inasmuch as what repentance is necessary to bring about in man, was already existent in Jesus; then, altering the words to fit the case, and saying, 'the baptism of willed devotion to the sending away of sin,' we shall see at once how the baptism of Jesus was a thing right and fit. That he had no sin to repent of, was not because he was so constituted that he could not sin if he would; it was because, of his own will and judgment, he sent sin away from him--sent it from him with the full choice and energy of his nature. God knows good and evil, and, blessed be his name, chooses good. Never will his righteous anger make him unfair to us, make him forget that we are dust. Like him, his son also chose good, and in that choice resisted all temptation to help his fellows otherwise than as their and his father would. Instead of crushing the power of evil by divine force; instead of compelling justice and destroying the wicked; instead of making peace on the earth by the rule of a perfect prince; instead of gathering the children of Jerusalem under his wings whether they would or not, and saving them from the horrors that anguished his prophetic soul--he let evil work its will while it lived; he contented himself with the slow unencouraging ways of help essential; making men good; casting out, not merely controlling Satan; carrying to their perfect issue on earth the old primeval principles because of which the Father honoured him: 'Thou hast loved righteousness and hated iniquity; therefore God, even thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.' To love righteousness is to make it grow, not to avenge it; and to win for righteousness the true victory, he, as well as his brethren, had to send away evil. Throughout his life on earth, he resisted every impulse to work more rapidly for a lower good,--strong perhaps when he saw old age and innocence and righteousness trodden under foot. What but this gives any worth of reality to the temptation in the wilderness, to the devil's departing from him for a season, to his coming again to experience a like failure? Ever and ever, in the whole attitude of his being, in his heart always lifted up, in his unfailing readiness to pull with the Father's yoke, he was repelling, driving away sin--away from himself, and, as Lord of men, and their saviour, away from others also, bringing them to abjure it like himself. No man, least of all any lord of men, can be good without willing to be good, without setting himself against evil, without sending away sin. Other men have to send it away out of them; the Lord had to send it away from before him, that it should not enter into him. Therefore is the stand against sin common to the captain of salvation and the soldiers under him. What did Jesus come into the world to do? The will of God in saving his people from their sins--not from the punishment of their sins, that blessed aid to repentance, but from their sins themselves, the paltry as well as the heinous, the venial as well as the loathsome. His whole work was and is to send away sin--to banish it from the earth, yea, to cast it into the abyss of non-existence behind the back of God. His was the holy war; he came carrying it into our world; he resisted unto blood; the soldiers that followed him he taught and trained to resist also unto blood, striving against sin; so he became the captain of their salvation, and they, freed themselves, fought and suffered for others. This was the task to which he was baptized; this is yet his enduring labour. 'This is my blood of the new covenant which is shed for many unto the sending away of sins.' What was the new covenant? 'I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah; not according to the covenant which they brake, but this: I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts, and will be their God, and they shall be my people.' John baptized unto repentance because those to whom he was sent had to repent. They must bethink themselves, and send away the sin that was in them. But had there been a man, aware of no sin in him, but aware that life would be no life were not sin kept out of him, that man would have been right in receiving the baptism of John unto the continuous dismission of the sin ever wanting to enter in at his door. The object of the baptism was the sending away of sin; its object was repentance only where necessary to, only as introducing, as resulting in that. He to whom John was not sent, He whom he did not call, He who needed no repentance, was baptized for the same object, to the same conflict for the same end--the banishment of sin from the dominions of his father--and that first by his own sternest repudiation of it in himself. Thence came his victory in the wilderness: he would have his fathers way, not his own. Could he be less fitted to receive the baptism of John, that the object of it was no new thing with him, who had been about it from the beginning, yea, from all eternity? We shall be about it, I presume, to all eternity. Such, then, as were baptized by John, were initiated into the company of those whose work was to send sin out of the world, and first, by sending it out of themselves, by having done with it. Their earliest endeavour in this direction would, as I have said, open the door for that help to enter without which a man could never succeed in the divinely arduous task--could not, because the region in which the work has to be wrought lies in the very roots of his own being, where, knowing nothing of the secrets of his essential existence, he can immediately do nothing, where the maker of him alone is potent, alone is consciously present. The change that must pass in him more than equals a new creation, inasmuch as it is a higher creation. But its necessity is involved in the former creation; and thence we have a right to ask help of our creator, for he requires of us what he has created us unable to effect without him. Nay, nay!--could we do anything without him, it were a thing to leave undone. Blessed fact that he hath made us so near him! that the scale of our being is so large, that we are completed only by his presence in it! that we are not men without him! that we can be one with our self-existent creator! that we are not cut off from the original Infinite! that in him we must share infinitude, or be enslaved by the finite! The very patent of our royalty is, that not for a moment can we live our true life without the eternal life present in and with our spirits. Without him at our unknown root, we cease to be. True, a dog cannot live without the presence of God; but I presume a dog may live a good dog-life without knowing the presence of his origin: man is dead if he know not the Power which is his cause, his deepest selfing self; the Presence which is not himself, and is nearer to him than himself; which is infinitely more himself, more his very being, than he is himself. The being of which we are conscious, is not our full self; the extent of our consciousness of our self is no measure of our self; our consciousness is infinitely less than we; while God is more necessary even to that poor consciousness of self than our self-consciousness is necessary to our humanity. Until a man become the power of his own existence, become his own God, the sole thing necessary to his existing is the will of God; for the well-being and perfecting of that existence, the sole thing necessary is, that the man should know his maker present in him. All that the children want is their Father. The one true end of all speech concerning holy things is--the persuading of the individual man to cease to do evil, to set himself to do well, to look to the lord of his life to be on his side in the new struggle. Supposing the suggestions I have made correct, I do not care that my reader should understand them, except it be to turn against the evil in him, and begin to cast it out. If this be not the result, it is of no smallest consequence whether he agree with my interpretation or not. If he do thus repent, it is of equally little consequence; for, setting himself to do the truth, he is on the way to know all things. Real knowledge has begun to grow possible for him. I am not sure what the Lord means in the words, 'Thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness.' Baptism could not be the fulfilling of all righteousness! Perhaps he means, 'We must, by a full act of the will, give ourselves altogether to righteousness. We must make it the business of our lives to send away sin, and do the will of the Father. That is my work as much as the work of any man who must repent ere he can begin. I will not be left out when you call men to be pure as our father is pure.' To be certain whom he intends by _us_ might perhaps help us to see his meaning. Does he intend _all of us men_? Does he intend 'my father and me'? Or does he intend 'you and me, John'? If the saying mean what I have suggested, then the _us_ would apply to all that have the knowledge of good and evil. 'Every being that can, must devote himself to righteousness. To be right is no adjunct of completeness; it is the ground and foundation of existence.' But perhaps it was a lesson for John himself, who, mighty preacher of righteousness as he was, did not yet count it the all of life. I cannot tell. Note that when the Lord began his teaching, he employed, neither using nor inculcating any rite, the same words as John,--'Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.' That kingdom had been at hand all his infancy, boyhood, and young manhood: he was in the world with his father in his heart: that was the kingdom of heaven. Lonely man on the hillside, or boy the cynosure of doctor-eyes, his father was everything to him:--'Wist ye not that I must be in my father's things?' _JESUS IN THE WORLD._ 'Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing.' And he said unto them, 'How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my father's business?' And they understood not the saying which he spake unto them.--_Luke_ ii. 48-50. Was that his saying? Why did they not understand it? Do we understand it? What did his saying mean? The Greek is not absolutely clear. Whether the Syriac words he used were more precise, who in this world can tell? But had we heard his very words, we too, with his father and mother, would have failed to understand them. Must we fail still? It will show at once where our initial difficulty lies, if I give the latter half of the saying as presented in the revised English version: its departure from the authorized reveals the point of obscurity:--'Wist ye not that I must be in my father's house?' His parents had his exact words, yet did not understand. We have not his exact words, and are in doubt as to what the Greek translation of them means. If the authorized translation be true to the intent of the Greek, and therefore to that of the Syriac, how could his parents, knowing him as they did from all that had been spoken before concerning him, from all they had seen in him, from the ponderings in Mary's own heart, and from the precious thoughts she and Joseph cherished concerning him, have failed to understand him when he said that wherever he was, he must be about his father's business? On the other hand, supposing them to know and feel that he must be about his father's business, would that have been reason sufficient, in view of the degree of spiritual development to which they had attained, for the Lord's expecting them not to be anxious about him when they had lost him? Thousands on thousands who trust God for their friends in things spiritual, do not trust him for them in regard of their mere health or material well-being. His parents knew how prophets had always been treated in the land; or if they did not think in that direction, there were many dangers to which a boy like him would seem exposed, to rouse an anxiety that could be met only by a faith equal to saying, 'Whatever has happened to him, death itself, it can be no evil to one who is about his father's business;' and such a faith I think the Lord could not yet have expected of them. That what the world counts misfortune might befall him on his father's business, would have been recognized by him, I think, as reason for their parental anxiety--so long as they had not learned God--that he is what he is--the thing the Lord had come to teach his father's men and women. His words seem rather to imply that there was no need to be anxious about his personal safety. Fear of some accident to him seems to have been the cause of their trouble; and he did not mean, I think, that they ought not to mind if he died doing his father's will, but that he was in no danger as regarded accident or misfortune. This will appear more plainly as we proceed. So much for the authorized version. Let us now take the translation given us by the Revisers:--'Wist ye not that I must be in my father's house?' Are they authorized in translating the Greek thus? I know no justification for it, but am not learned enough to say they have none. That the Syriac has it so, is of little weight; seeing it is no original Syriac, but retranslation. If he did say '_my father's house_', could he have meant the temple and his parents not have known what he meant? And why should he have taken it for granted they would know, or judge that they ought to have known, that he was there? So little did the temple suggest itself to them, that either it was the last place in which they sought him, or they had been there before, and had _not_ found him. If he meant that they might have known this without being told, why was it that, even when he set the thing before them, they did not understand him? I do not believe he meant the temple; I do not think he said or meant '_in my fathers house'_. What then makes those who give us this translation, prefer it to the phrase in the authorized version, '_about my Father's business_'? One or other of two causes--most likely both together: an ecclesiastical fancy, and the mere fact that he was found in the temple. A mind ecclesiastical will presume the temple the fittest, therefore most likely place, for the Son of God to betake himself to, but such a mind would not be the first to reflect that the temple was a place where the Father was worshipped neither in spirit nor in truth--a place built by one of the vilest rulers of this world, less fit than many another spot for the special presence of him of whom the prophet bears witness: 'Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.' Jesus himself, with the same breath in which once he called it his father's house, called it a den of thieves. His expulsion from it of the buyers and sellers, was the first waft of the fan with which he was come to purge his father's dominions. Nothing could ever cleanse that house; his fanning rose to a tempest, and swept it out of his father's world. For the second possible cause of the change from _business_ to _temple_--the mere fact that he was found in the temple, can hardly be a reason for his expecting his parents to know that he was there; and if it witnessed to some way of thought or habit of his with which they were acquainted, it is, I repeat, difficult to see why the parents should fail to perceive what the interpreters have found so easily. But the parents looked for a larger meaning in the words of such a son--whose meaning at the same time was too large for them to find. When, according to the Greek, the Lord, on the occasion already alluded to, says 'my father's house,' he says it plainly; he uses the word _house_: here he does not. Let us see what lies in the Greek to guide us to the thought in the mind of the Lord when he thus reasoned with the apprehensions of his father and mother. The Greek, taken literally, says, 'Wist ye not that I must be in the----of my father?' The authorized version supplies _business_; the revised, _house_. There is no noun in the Greek, and the article 'the' is in the plural. To translate it as literally as it can be translated, making of it an English sentence, the saying stands, 'Wist ye not that I must be in the things of my father?' The plural article implies the English _things_; and the question is then, What _things_ does he mean? The word might mean _affairs_ or _business_; but why the plural article should be contracted to mean _house_, _I_ do not know. In a great wide sense, no doubt, the word _house_ might be used, as I am about to show, but surely not as meaning the temple. He was arguing for confidence in God on the part of his parents, not for a knowledge of his whereabout. The same thing that made them anxious concerning him, prevented them from understanding his words--lack, namely, of faith in the Father. This, the one thing he came into the world to teach men, those words were meant to teach his parents. They are spirit and life, involving the one principle by which men shall live. They hold the same core as his words to his disciples in the storm, 'Oh ye of little faith!' Let us look more closely at them. 'Why did you look for me? Did you not know that I must be among my father's things?' What are we to understand by 'my father's things'? The translation given in the authorized version is, I think, as to the words themselves, a thoroughly justifiable one: 'I must be about my father's business,' or 'my father's affairs'; I refuse it for no other reason than that it does not fit the logic of the narrative, as does the word _things_, which besides opens to us a door of large and joyous prospect. Of course he was about his father's business, and they might know it and yet be anxious about him, not having a perfect faith in that father. But, as I have said already, it was not anxiety as to what might befall him because of doing the will of the Father; he might well seem to them as yet too young for danger from that source; it was but the vague perils of life beyond their sight that appalled them; theirs was just the uneasiness that possesses every parent whose child is missing; and if they, like him, had trusted in their father, they would have known what their son now meant when he said that he was in the midst of his father's things--namely, that the very things from which they dreaded evil accident, were his own home-surroundings; that he was not doing the Father's business in a foreign country, but in the Father's own house. Understood as meaning the world, or the universe, the phrase, 'my father's house,' would be a better translation than the authorized; understood as meaning the poor, miserable, God-forsaken temple--no more the house of God than a dead body is the house of a man--it is immeasurably inferior. It seems to me, I say, that the Lord meant to remind them, or rather to make them feel, for they had not yet learned the fact, that he was never away from home, could not be lost, as they had thought him; that he was in his father's house all the time, where no hurt could come to him. 'The things' about him were the furniture and utensils of his home; he knew them all and how to use them. 'I must be among my father's belongings.' The world was his home because his father's house. He was not a stranger who did not know his way about in it. He was no lost child, but with his father all the time. Here we find one main thing wherein the Lord differs from us: we are not at home in this great universe, our father's house. We ought to be, and one day we shall be, but we are not yet. This reveals Jesus more than man, by revealing him more man than we. We are not complete men, we are not anything near it, and are therefore out of harmony, more or less, with everything in the house of our birth and habitation. Always struggling to make our home in the world, we have not yet succeeded. We are not at home in it, because we are not at home with the lord of the house, the father of the family, not one with our elder brother who is his right hand. It is only the son, the daughter, that abideth ever in the house. When we are true children, if not the world, then the universe will be our home, felt and known as such, the house we are satisfied with, and would not change. Hence, until then, the hard struggle, the constant strife we hold with _Nature_--as we call the things of our father; a strife invaluable for our development, at the same time manifesting us not yet men enough to be lords of the house built for us to live in. We cannot govern or command in it as did the Lord, because we are not at one with his father, therefore neither in harmony with his things, nor rulers over them. Our best power in regard to them is but to find out wonderful facts concerning them and their relations, and turn these facts to our uses on systems of our own. For we discover what we seem to discover, by working inward from without, while he works outward from within; and we shall never understand the world, until we see it in the direction in which he works making it--namely from within outward. This of course we cannot do until we are one with him. In the meantime, so much are both we and his things his, that we can err concerning them only as he has made it possible for us to err; we can wander only in the direction of the truth--if but to find that we can find nothing. Think for a moment how Jesus was at home among the things of his father. It seems to me, I repeat, a spiritless explanation of his words--that the temple was the place where naturally he was at home. Does he make the least lamentation over the temple? It is Jerusalem he weeps over--the men of Jerusalem, the killers, the stoners. What was his place of prayer? Not the temple, but the mountain-top. Where does he find symbols whereby to speak of what goes on in the mind and before the face of his father in heaven? Not in the temple; not in its rites; not on its altars; not in its holy of holies; he finds them in the world and its lovely-lowly facts; on the roadside, in the field, in the vineyard, in the garden, in the house; in the family, and the commonest of its affairs--the lighting of the lamp, the leavening of the meal, the neighbour's borrowing, the losing of the coin, the straying of the sheep. Even in the unlovely facts also of the world which he turns to holy use, such as the unjust judge, the false steward, the faithless labourers, he ignores the temple. See how he drives the devils from the souls and bodies of men, as we the wolves from our sheepfolds! how before him the diseases, scaly and spotted, hurry and flee! The world has for him no chamber of terror. He walks to the door of the sepulchre, the sealed cellar of his father's house, and calls forth its four days dead. He rebukes the mourners, he stays the funeral, and gives back the departed children to their parents' arms. The roughest of its servants do not make him wince; none of them are so arrogant as to disobey his word; he falls asleep in the midst of the storm that threatens to swallow his boat. Hear how, on that same occasion, he rebukes his disciples! The children to tremble at a gust of wind in the house! God's little ones afraid of a storm! Hear him tell the watery floor to be still, and no longer toss his brothers! see the watery floor obey him and grow still! See how the wandering creatures under it come at his call! See him leave his mountain-closet, and go walking over its heaving surface to the help of his men of little faith! See how the world's water turns to wine! how its bread grows more bread at his word! See how he goes from the house for a while, and returning with fresh power, takes what shape he pleases, walks through its closed doors, and goes up and down its invisible stairs! All his life he was among his father's things, either in heaven or in the world--not then only when they found him in the temple at Jerusalem. He is still among his father's things, everywhere about in the world, everywhere throughout the wide universe. Whatever he laid aside to come to us, to whatever limitations, for our sake, he stooped his regal head, he dealt with the things about him in such lordly, childlike manner as made it clear they were not strange to him, but the things of his father. He claimed none of them as his own, would not have had one of them his except through his father. Only as his father's could he enjoy them;--only as coming forth from the Father, and full of the Father's thought and nature, had they to him any existence. That the things were his fathers, made them precious things to him. He had no care for having, as men count having. All his having was in the Father. I wonder if he ever put anything in his pocket: I doubt if he had one. Did he ever say, 'This is mine, not yours'? Did he not say, 'All things are mine, therefore they are yours'? Oh for his liberty among the things of the Father! Only by knowing them the things of our Father, can we escape enslaving ourselves to them. Through the false, the infernal idea of _having_, of _possessing_ them, we make them our tyrants, make the relation between them and us an evil thing. The world was a blessed place to Jesus, because everything in it was his father's. What pain must it not have been to him, to see his brothers so vilely misuse the Father's house by grasping, each for himself, at the family things! If the knowledge that a spot in the landscape retains in it some pollution, suffices to disturb our pleasure in the whole, how must it not have been with him, how must it not be with him now, in regard to the disfigurements and defilements caused by the greed of men, by their haste to be rich, in his father's lovely house! Whoever is able to understand Wordsworth, or Henry Vaughan, when either speaks of the glorious insights of his childhood, will be able to imagine a little how Jesus must, in his eternal childhood, regard the world. Hear what Wordsworth says:-- Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy, But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day. Hear what Henry Vaughan says:-- Happy those early dayes, when I Shin'd in my angell-infancy! Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race, Or taught my soul to fancy ought But a white, celestiall thought; When yet I had not walkt above A mile or two, from my first love, And looking back--at that short space-- Could see a glimpse of His bright-face; When on some gilded cloud, or flowre My gazing soul would dwell an houre, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity; Before I taught my tongue to wound My conscience with a sinfull sound, Or had the black art to dispence A sev'rall sinne to ev'ry sence, But felt through all this fleshly dresse Bright shootes of everlastingnesse. O how I long to travell back, And tread again that ancient track! That I might once more reach that plaine, Where first I left my glorious traine; From whence th' inlightned spirit sees That shady City of palme trees. Whoever has thus gazed on flower or cloud; whoever can recall poorest memory of the trail of glory that hung about his childhood, must have some faint idea how his father's house and the things in it always looked, and must still look to the Lord. With him there is no fading into the light of common day. He has never lost his childhood, the very essence of childhood being nearness to the Father and the outgoing of his creative love; whence, with that insight of his eternal childhood of which the insight of the little ones here is a fainter repetition, he must see everything as the Father means it. The child sees things as the Father means him to see them, as he thought of them when he uttered them. For God is not only the father of the child, but of the childhood that constitutes him a child, therefore the childness is of the divine nature. The child may not indeed be capable of looking into the father's method, but he can in a measure understand his work, has therefore free entrance to his study and workshop both, and is welcome to find out what he can, with fullest liberty to ask him questions. There are men too, who, at their best, see, in their lower measure, things as they are--as God sees them always. Jesus saw things just as his father saw them in his creative imagination, when willing them out to the eyes of his children. But if he could always see the things of his father even as some men and more children see them at times, he might well feel _almost_ at home among them. He could not cease to admire, cease to love them. I say _love_, because the life in them, the presence of the creative one, would ever be plain to him. In the Perfect, would familiarity ever destroy wonder at things essentially wonderful because essentially divine? To cease to wonder is to fall plumb-down from the childlike to the commonplace--the most undivine of all moods intellectual. Our nature can never be at home among things that are not wonderful to us. Could we see things always as we have sometimes seen them--and as one day we must always see them, only far better--should we ever know dullness? Greatly as we might enjoy all forms of art, much as we might learn through the eyes and thoughts of other men, should we fly to these for deliverance from _ennui_, from any haunting discomfort? Should we not just open our own child-eyes, look upon the things themselves, and be consoled? Jesus, then, would have his parents understand that he was in his father's world among his father's things, where was nothing to hurt him; he knew them all, was in the secret of them all, could use and order them as did his father. To this same I think all we humans are destined to rise. Though so many of us now are ignorant what kind of home we need, what a home we are capable of having, we too shall inherit the earth with the Son eternal, doing with it as we would--willing with the will of the Father. To such a home as we now inhabit, only perfected, and perfectly beheld, we are travelling--never to reach it save by the obedience that makes us the children, therefore the heirs of God. And, thank God! there the father does not die that the children may inherit; for, bliss of heaven! we inherit with the Father. All the dangers of Jesus came from the priests, and the learned in the traditional law, whom his parents had not yet begun to fear on his behalf. They feared the dangers of the rugged way, the thieves and robbers of the hill-road. For the scribes and the pharisees, the priests and the rulers--they would be the first to acknowledge their Messiah, their king! Little they imagined, when they found him where he ought to have been safest had it been indeed his father's house, that there he sat amid lions--the great doctors of the temple! He could rule all the _things_ in his father's house, but not the men of religion, the men of the temple, who called his father their Father. True, he might have compelled them with a word, withered them by a glance, with a finger-touch made them grovel at his feet; but such supremacy over his brothers the Lord of life despised. He must rule them as his father ruled himself; he would have them know themselves of the same family with himself; have them at home among the things of God, caring for the things he cared for, loving and hating as he and his father loved and hated, ruling themselves by the essential laws of being. Because they would not be such, he let them do to him as they would, that he might get at their hearts by some unknown unguarded door in their diviner part. 'I will be God among you; I will be myself to you.--You will not have me? Then do to me as you will. The created shall have power over him through whom they were created, that they may be compelled to know him and his father. They shall look on him whom they have pierced.' His parents found him in the temple; they never really found him until he entered the true temple--their own adoring hearts. The temple that knows not its builder, is no temple; in it dwells no divinity. But at length he comes to his own, and his own receive him;--comes to them in the might of his mission to preach good tidings to the poor, to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance, and sight, and liberty, and the Lord's own good time. _JESUS AND HIS FELLOW TOWNSMEN._ And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up: and, as his custom was, he went into the synagogue on the sabbath day, and stood up for to read. And there was delivered unto him the book of the prophet Esaias. And when he had opened the book, he found the place where it was written, 'The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord.' And he closed the book, and he gave it again to the minister, and sat down. And the eyes of all them that were in the synagogue were fastened on him. And he began to say unto them, 'This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears.'--_Luke_ iv. 14-21. The Lord's sermon upon the mount seems such an enlargement of these words of the prophet as might, but for the refusal of the men of Nazareth to listen to him, have followed his reading of them here recorded. That, as given by the evangelist, they correspond to neither of the differing originals of the English and Greek versions, ought to be enough in itself to do away with the spiritually vulgar notion of the verbal inspiration of the Scriptures. The point at which the Lord stops in his reading, is suggestive: he closes the book, leaving the words 'and the day of vengeance of our God,' or, as in the Septuagint, 'the day of recompense,' unread: God's vengeance is as holy a thing as his love, yea, is love, for God is love and God is not vengeance; but, apparently, the Lord would not give the word a place in his announcement of his mission: his hearers would not recognize it as a form of the Father's love, but as vengeance on their enemies, not vengeance on the selfishness of those who would not be their brother's keeper. He had not begun with Nazareth, neither with Galilee. 'A prophet has no honour in his own country,' he said, and began to teach where it was more likely he would be heard. It is true that he wrought his first miracle in Cana, but that was at his mother's request, not of his own intent, and he did not begin his teaching there. He went first to Jerusalem, there cast out the buyers and sellers from the temple, and did other notable things alluded to by St John; then went back to Galilee, where, having seen the things he did in Jerusalem, his former neighbours were now prepared to listen to him. Of these the Nazarenes, to whom the sight of him was more familiar, retained the most prejudice against him: he belonged to their very city! they had known him from a child!--and low indeed are they in whom familiarity with the high and true breeds contempt! they are judged already. Yet such was the fame of the new prophet, that even they were willing to hear in the synagogue what he had to say to them--thence to determine for themselves what claim he had to an honourable reception. But the eye of their judgment was not single, therefore was their body full of darkness. Should Nazareth indeed prove, to their self-glorifying satisfaction, the city of the great Prophet, they were more than ready to grasp at the renown of having produced him: he was indeed the great Prophet, and within a few minutes they would have slain him for the honour of Israel. In the ignoble even the love of their country partakes largely of the ignoble. There was a shadow of the hateless vengeance of God in the expulsion of the dishonest dealers from the temple with which the Lord initiated his mission: that was his first parable to Jerusalem; to Nazareth he comes with the sweetest words of the prophet of hope in his mouth--good tidings of great joy--of healing and sight and liberty; followed by the godlike announcement, that what the prophet had promised he was come to fulfil. His heart, his eyes, his lips, his hands--his whole body is full of gifts for men, and that day was that scripture fulfilled in their ears. The prophecy had gone before that he should save his people from their sins; he brings an announcement they will better understand: he is come, he says, to deliver men from sorrow and pain, ignorance and oppression, everything that makes life hard and unfriendly. What a gracious speech, what a daring pledge to a world whelmed in tyranny and wrong! To the women of it, I imagine, it sounded the sweetest, in them woke the highest hopes. They had scarce had a hearing when the Lord came; and thereupon things began to mend with them, and are mending still, for the Lord is at work, and will be. He is the refuge of the oppressed. By its very woes, as by bitterest medicine, he is setting the world free from sin and woe. This very hour he is curing its disease, the symptoms of which are so varied and so painful; working none the less faithfully that the sick, taking the symptoms for the disease, cry out against the incompetence of their physician. 'What power can heal the broken-hearted?' they cry. And indeed it takes a God to do it, but the God is here! In yet better words than those of the prophet, spoken straight from his own heart, he cries: 'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' He calls to him every heart knowing its own bitterness, speaks to the troubled consciousness of every child of the Father. He is come to free us from everything that makes life less than bliss essential. No other could be a gospel worthy of the God of men. Every one will, I presume, confess to more or less misery. Its apparent source may be this or that; its real source is, to use a poor figure, a dislocation of the juncture between the created and the creating life. This primal evil is the parent of evils unnumbered, hence of miseries multitudinous, under the weight of which the arrogant man cries out against life, and goes on to misuse it, while the child looks around for help--and who shall help him but his father! The Father is with him all the time, but it may be long ere the child knows himself in his arms. His heart may be long troubled as well as his outer life. The dank mists of doubtful thought may close around his way, and hide from him the Light of the world! cold winds from the desert of foiled endeavour may sorely buffet and for a time baffle his hope; but every now and then the blue pledge of a great sky will break through the clouds over his head; and a faint aurora will walk his darkest East. Gradually he grows more capable of imagining a world in which every good thing thinkable may be a fact. Best of all, the story of him who is himself the good news, the gospel of God, becomes not only more and more believable to his heart, but more and more ministrant to his life of conflict, and his assurance of a living father who hears when his children cry. The gospel according to this or that expounder of it, may repel him unspeakably; the gospel according to Jesus Christ, attracts him supremely, and ever holds where it has drawn him. To the priest, the scribe, the elder, exclaiming against his self-sufficiency in refusing what they teach, he answers, 'It is life or death to me. Your gospel I cannot take. To believe as you would have me believe, would be to lose my God. Your God is no God to me. I do not desire him. I would rather die the death than believe in such a God. In the name of the true God, I cast your gospel from me; it is no gospel, and to believe it would be to wrong him in whom alone lies my hope.' 'But to believe in such a man,' he might go on to say, 'with such a message, as I read of in the New Testament, is life from the dead. I have yielded myself, to live no more in the idea of self, but with the life of God. To him I commit the creature he has made, that he may live in it, and work out its life--develop it according to the idea of it in his own creating mind. I fall in with his ways for me. I believe in him. I trust him. I try to obey him. I look to be rendered capable of and receive a pure vision of his will, freedom from the prison-house of my limitation, from the bondage of a finite existence. For the finite that dwells in the infinite and in which the infinite dwells, is finite no longer. Those who are thus children indeed, are little Gods, the divine brood of the infinite Father. No mere promise of deliverance from the consequences of sin, would be any gospel to me. Less than the liberty of a holy heart, less than the freedom of the Lord himself, will never satisfy one human soul. Father, set me free in the glory of thy will, so that I will only as thou willest. Thy will be at once thy perfection and mine. Thou alone art deliverance--absolute safety from every cause and kind of trouble that ever existed, anywhere now exists, or ever can exist in thy universe.' But the people of the Lord's town, to whom he read, appropriating them, the gracious words of the prophet, were of the wise and prudent of their day. With one and the same breath, they seem to cry, 'These things are good, it is true, but they must come after our way. We must have the promise to our fathers fulfilled--that we shall rule the world, the chosen of God, the children of Abraham and Israel. We want to be a free people, manage our own affairs, live in plenty, and do as we please. Liberty alone can ever cure the woes of which you speak. We do not need to be better; we are well enough. Give us riches and honour, and keep us content with ourselves, that we may be satisfied with our own likeness, and thou shalt be the Messiah.' Never, perhaps, would such be men's spoken words, but the prevailing condition of their minds might often well take form in such speech. Whereon will they ground their complaint should God give them their hearts' desire? When that desire given closes in upon them with a torturing sense of slavery; when they find that what they have imagined their own will, was but a suggestion they knew not whence; when they discover that life is not good, yet they cannot die; will they not then turn and entreat their maker to save them after his own fashion? Let us try to understand the brief, elliptical narrative of what took place in the synagogue of Nazareth on the occasion of our Lord's announcement of his mission. 'This day,' said Jesus, 'is this scripture fulfilled in your ears;' and went on with his divine talk. We shall yet know, I trust, what 'the gracious words' were 'which proceeded out of his mouth': surely some who heard them, still remember them, for 'all bare him witness, and wondered at' them! How did they bear him witness? Surely not alone by the intensity of their wondering gaze! Must not the narrator mean that their hearts bore witness to the power of his presence, that they felt the appeal of his soul to theirs, that they said in themselves, 'Never man spake like this man'? Must not the light of truth in his face, beheld of such even as knew not the truth, have lifted their souls up truthward? Was it not the something true, common to all hearts, that bore the wondering witness to the graciousness of his words? Had not those words found a way to the pure human, that is, the divine in the men? Was it not therefore that they were drawn to him--all but ready to accept him?--on their own terms, alas, not his! For a moment he seemed to them a true messenger, but truth in him was not truth to them: had he been what they took him for, he would have been no saviour. They were, however, though partly by mistake, well disposed toward him, and it was with a growing sense of being honoured by his relation to them, and the property they had in him, that they said, 'Is not this Joseph's son?' But the Lord knew what was in their hearts; he knew the false notion with which they were almost ready to declare for him; he knew also the final proof to which they were in their wisdom and prudence about to subject him. He did not look likely to be a prophet, seeing he had grown up among them, and had never shown any credentials: they had a right to proof positive! They had heard of wonderful things he had done in other places: why had they not first of all been done in _their_ sight? Who had a claim equal to theirs? who so capable as they to pronounce judgment on his mission whether false or true: had they not known him from childhood? His words were gracious, but words were nothing: he must _do_ something--something wonderful! Without such conclusive, satisfying proof, Nazareth at least would never acknowledge him! They were quite ready for the honour of having any true prophet, such as it seemed not impossible the son of Joseph might turn out to be, recognized as their towns-man, one of their own people: if he were such, theirs was the credit of having produced him! Then indeed they were ready to bear witness to him, take his part, adopt his cause, and before the world stand up for him! As to his being the Messiah, that was merest absurdity: did they not all know his father, the carpenter? He might, however, be the prophet whom so many of the best in the nation were at the moment expecting! Let him do something wonderful! They were not a gracious people, or a good. The Lord saw their thought, and it was far from being to his mind. He desired no such reception as they were at present equal to giving a prophet. His mighty works were not meant for such as they--to convince them of what they were incapable of understanding or welcoming! Those who would not believe without signs and wonders, could never believe worthily with any number of them, and none should be given them! His mighty works were to rouse the love, and strengthen the faith of the meek and lowly in heart, of such as were ready to come to the light, and show that they were of the light. He knew how poor the meaning the Nazarenes put on the words he had read; what low expectations they had of the Messiah when most they longed for his coming. They did not hear the prophet while he read the prophet! At sight of a few poor little wonders, nothing to him, to them sufficient to prove him such a Messiah as _they_ looked for, they would burst into loud acclaim, and rush to their arms, eager, his officers and soldiers, to open the one triumphant campaign against the accursed Romans, and sweep them beyond the borders of their sacred country. Their Messiah would make of their nation the redeemed of the Lord, themselves the favourites of his court, and the tyrants of the world! Salvation from their sins was not in their hearts, not in their imaginations, not at all in their thoughts. They had heard him read his commission to heal the broken-hearted; they would rush to break hearts in his name. The Lord knew them, and their vain expectations. He would have no such followers--no followers on false conceptions--no followers whom wonders would delight but nowise better! The Nazarenes were not yet of the sort that needed but one change to be his people. He had come to give them help; until they accepted his, they could have none to give him. The Lord never did mighty work in proof of his mission; to help a growing faith in himself and his father, he would do anything! He healed those whom healing would deeper heal--those in whom suffering had so far done its work, that its removal also would carry it on. To the Nazarenes he would not manifest his power; they were not in a condition to get good from such manifestation: it would but confirm their present arrogance and ambition. Wonderful works can only nourish a faith already existent; to him who believes without it, a miracle _may_ be granted. It was the Israelite indeed, whom the Lord met with miracle: 'Because I said unto thee, I saw thee under the fig-tree, believest thou? Thou shalt see the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.' Those who laughed him to scorn were not allowed to look on the resurrection of the daughter of Jairus. Peter, when he would walk on the water, had both permission and power given him to do so. The widow received the prophet, and was fed; the Syrian went to the prophet, and was cured. In Nazareth, because of unbelief, the Lord could only lay his hands on a few sick folk; in the rest was none of that leaning toward the truth, which alone can make room for the help of a miracle. This they soon made manifest. The Lord saw them on the point of challenging a display of his power, and anticipated the challenge with a refusal. For the better understanding of his words, let me presume to paraphrase them: 'I know you will apply to me the proverb, Physician, heal thyself, requiring me to prove what is said of me in Capernaum, by doing the same here; but there is another proverb, No prophet is accepted in his own country. Unaccepted I do nothing wonderful. In the great famine, Elijah was sent to no widow of the many in Israel, but to a Sidonian; and Elisha cured no leper of the many in Israel, but Naaman the Syrian. There are those fit to see signs and wonders; they are not always the kin of the prophet.' The Nazarenes heard with indignation. Their wonder at his gracious words was changed to bitterest wrath. The very beams of their ugly religion were party-spirit, exclusiveness, and pride in the fancied favour of God for them only of all the nations: to hint at the possibility of a revelation of the glory of God to a stranger; far more, to hint that a stranger might be fitter to receive such a revelation than a Jew, was an offence reaching to the worst insult; and it was cast in their teeth by a common man of their own city! 'Thou art but a well-known carpenter's son, and dost thou teach _us_! Darest thou imply a divine preference for Capernaum over Nazareth?' In bad odour with the rest of their countrymen, they were the prouder of themselves. The _whole_ synagogue, observe, rose in a fury. Such a fellow a prophet! He was worse than the worst of Gentiles! he was a false Jew! a traitor to his God! a friend of the idol-worshipping Romans! Away with him! His townsmen led the van in his rejection by his own. The men of Nazareth would have forestalled his crucifixion by them of Jerusalem. What! a Sidonian woman fitter to receive the prophet than any Jewess! a heathen worthier to be kept alive by miracle in time of famine, than a worshipper of the true God! a leper of Damascus less displeasing to God than the lepers of his chosen race! It was no longer condescending approval that shone in their eyes. He a prophet! They had seen through him! Soon had they found him out! The moment he perceived it useless to pose for a prophet with them, who had all along known the breed of him, he had turned to insult them! He dared not attempt in his own city the deceptions with which, by the help of Satan, he had made such a grand show, and fooled the idiots of Capernaum! He saw they knew him too well, were too wide-awake to be cozened by him, and to avoid their expected challenge, fell to reviling the holy nation. Let him take the consequences! To the brow of the hill with him! How could there be any miracle for such! They were well satisfied with themselves, and Nothing almost sees miracles But misery. Need and the upward look, the mood ready to believe when and where it can, the embryonic faith, is dear to Him whose love would have us trust him. Let any man seek him--not in curious inquiry whether the story of him may be true or cannot be true--in humble readiness to accept him altogether if only he can, and he shall find him; we shall not fail of help to believe because we doubt. But if the questioner be such that the dispersion of his doubt would but leave him in disobedience, the Power of truth has no care to effect his conviction. Why cast out a devil that the man may the better do the work of the devil? The childlike doubt will, as it softens and yields, minister nourishment with all that was good in it to the faith-germ at its heart; the wise and prudent unbelief will be left to develop its own misery. The Lord could easily have satisfied the Nazarenes that he was the Messiah: they would but have hardened into the nucleus of an army for the subjugation of the world. To a warfare with their own sins, to the subjugation of their doing and desiring to the will of the great Father, all the miracles in his power would never have persuaded them. A true convincement is not possible to hearts and minds like theirs. Not only is it impossible for a low man to believe a thousandth part of what a noble man can, but a low man cannot believe anything as a noble man believes it. The men of Nazareth could have believed in Jesus as their saviour from the Romans; as their saviour from their sins they could not believe in him, for they loved their sins. The king of heaven came to offer them a share in his kingdom; but they were not poor in spirit, and the kingdom of heaven was not for them. Gladly would they have inherited the earth; but they were not meek, and the earth was for the lowly children of the perfect Father. _THE HEIRS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH._ And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying, 'Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.' ...'Blessed are the meek; for they shall inherit the earth.'--_Matthew_ v. 2, 3, 5. The words of the Lord are the seed sown by the sower. Into our hearts they must fall that they may grow. Meditation and prayer must water them, and obedience keep them in the sunlight. Thus will they bear fruit for the Lord's gathering. Those of his disciples, that is, obedient hearers, who had any experience in trying to live, would, in part, at once understand them; but as they obeyed and pondered, the meaning of them would keep growing. This we see in the writings of the apostles. It will be so with us also, who need to understand everything he said neither more nor less than they to whom first he spoke; while our obligation to understand is far greater than theirs at the time, inasmuch as we have had nearly two thousand years' experience of the continued coming of the kingdom he then preached: it is not yet come; it has been all the time, and is now, drawing slowly nearer. The sermon on the mount, as it is commonly called, seems the Lord's first free utterance, in the presence of any large assembly, of the good news of the kingdom. He had been teaching his disciples and messengers; and had already brought the glad tidings that his father was their father, to many besides--to Nathanael for one, to Nicodemus, to the woman of Samaria, to every one he had cured, every one whose cry for help he had heard: his epiphany was a gradual thing, beginning, where it continues, with the individual. It is impossible even to guess at what number may have heard him on this occasion: he seems to have gone up the mount because of the crowd--to secure a somewhat opener position whence he could better speak; and thither followed him those who desired to be taught of him, accompanied doubtless by not a few in whom curiosity was the chief motive. Disciple or gazer, he addressed the individuality of every one that had ears to hear. Peter and Andrew, James and John, are all we know as his recognized disciples, followers, and companions, at the time; but, while his words were addressed to such as had come to him desiring to learn of him, the things he uttered were eternal truths, life in which was essential for every one of his father's children, therefore they were for all: he who heard to obey, was his disciple. How different, at the first sound of it, must the good news have been from the news anxiously expected by those who waited for the Messiah! Even the Baptist in prison lay listening after something of quite another sort. The Lord had to send him a message, by eye-witnesses of his doings, to remind him that God's thoughts are not as our thoughts, or his ways as our ways--that the design of God is other and better than the expectation of men. His summary of the gifts he was giving to men, culminated with the preaching of the good news to the poor. If John had known these his doings before, he had not recognized them as belonging to the Lord's special mission: the Lord tells him it is not enough to have accepted him as the Messiah; he must recognize his doings as the work he had come into the world to do, and as in their nature so divine as to be the very business of the Son of God in whom the Father was well pleased. Wherein then consisted the goodness of the news which he opened his mouth to give them? What was in the news to make the poor glad? Why was his arrival with such words in his heart and mouth, the coming of the kingdom? All good news from heaven, is of _truth_--essential truth, involving duty, and giving and promising help to the performance of it. There can be no good news for us men, except of uplifting love, and no one can be lifted up who will not rise. If God himself sought to raise his little ones without their consenting effort, they would drop from his foiled endeavour. He will carry us in his arms till we are able to walk; he will carry us in his arms when we are weary with walking; he will not carry us if we will not walk. Very different are the good news Jesus brings us from certain prevalent representations of the gospel, founded on the pagan notion that suffering is an offset for sin, and culminating in the vile assertion that the suffering of an innocent man, just because he is innocent, yea perfect, is a satisfaction to the holy Father for the evil deeds of his children. As a theory concerning the atonement nothing could be worse, either intellectually, morally, or spiritually; announced as the gospel itself, as the good news of the kingdom of heaven, the idea is monstrous as any Chinese dragon. Such a so-called gospel is no gospel, however accepted as God sent by good men of a certain development. It is evil news, dwarfing, enslaving, maddening--news to the child-heart of the dreariest damnation. Doubtless some elements of the gospel are mixed up with it on most occasions of its announcement; none the more is it the message received from him. It can be good news only to such as are prudently willing to be delivered from a God they fear, but unable to accept the gospel of a perfect God, in whom to trust perfectly. The good news of Jesus was just the news of the thoughts and ways of the Father in the midst of his family. He told them that the way men thought for themselves and their children was not the way God thought for himself and his children; that the kingdom of heaven was founded, and must at length show itself founded on very different principles from those of the kingdoms and families of the world, meaning by the world that part of the Father's family which will not be ordered by him, will not even try to obey him. The world's man, its great, its successful, its honorable man, is he who may have and do what he pleases, whose strength lies in money and the praise of men; the greatest in the kingdom of heaven is the man who is humblest and serves his fellows the most. Multitudes of men, in no degree notable as ambitious or proud, hold the ambitious, the proud man in honour, and, for all deliverance, hope after some shadow of his prosperity. How many even of those who look for the world to come, seek to the powers of this world for deliverance from its evils, as if God were the God of the world to come only! The oppressed of the Lord's time looked for a Messiah to set their nation free, and make it rich and strong; the oppressed of our time believe in money, knowledge, and the will of a people which needs but power to be in its turn the oppressor. The first words of the Lord on this occasion were:--'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,' It is not the proud, it is not the greedy of distinction, it is not those who gather and hoard, not those who lay down the law to their neighbours, not those that condescend, any more than those that shrug the shoulder and shoot out the lip, that have any share in the kingdom of the Father. That kingdom has no relation with or resemblance to the kingdoms of this world, deals with no one thing that distinguishes their rulers, except to repudiate it. The Son of God will favour no smallest ambition, be it in the heart of him who leans on his bosom. The kingdom of God, the refuge of the oppressed, the golden age of the new world, the real Utopia, the newest yet oldest Atlantis, the home of the children, will not open its gates to the most miserable who would rise above his equal in misery, who looks down on any one more miserable than himself. It is the home of perfect brotherhood. The poor, the beggars in spirit, the humble men of heart, the unambitious, the unselfish; those who never despise men, and never seek their praises; the lowly, who see nothing to admire in themselves, therefore cannot seek to be admired of others; the men who give themselves away--these are the freemen of the kingdom, these are the citizens of the new Jerusalem. The men who are aware of their own essential poverty; not the men who are poor in friends, poor in influence, poor in acquirements, poor in money, but those who are poor in spirit, who _feel themselves poor creatures_; who know nothing to be pleased with themselves for, and desire nothing to make them think well of themselves; who know that they need much to make their life worth living, to make their existence a good thing, to make them fit to live; these humble ones are the poor whom the Lord calls blessed. When a man says, I am low and worthless, then the gate of the kingdom begins to open to him, for there enter the true, and this man has begun to know the truth concerning himself. Whatever such a man has attained to, he straightway forgets; it is part of him and behind him; his business is with what he has not, with the things that lie above and before him. The man who is proud of anything he thinks he has reached, has not reached it. He is but proud of himself, and imagining a cause for his pride. If he had reached, he would already have begun to forget. He who delights in contemplating whereto he has attained, is not merely sliding back; he is already in the dirt of self-satisfaction. The gate of the kingdom is closed, and he outside. The child who, clinging to his Father, dares not think he has in any sense attained while as yet he is not as his Father--his Father's heart, his Father's heaven is his natural home. To find himself thinking of himself as above his fellows, would be to that child a shuddering terror; his universe would contract around him, his ideal wither on its throne. The least motion of self-satisfaction, the first thought of placing himself in the forefront of estimation, would be to him a flash from the nether abyss. God is his life and his lord. That his father should be content with him must be all his care. Among his relations with his neighbour, infinitely precious, comparison with his neighbour has no place. Which is the greater is of no account. He would not choose to be less than his neighbour; he would choose his neighbour to be greater than he. He looks up to every man. Otherwise gifted than he, his neighbour is more than he. All come from the one mighty father: shall he judge the live thoughts of God, which is greater and which is less? In thus denying, thus turning his back on himself, he has no thought of saintliness, no thought but of his father and his brethren. To such a child heaven's best secrets are open. He clambers about the throne of the Father unrebuked; his back is ready for the smallest heavenly playmate; his arms are an open refuge for any blackest little lost kid of the Father's flock; he will toil with it up the heavenly stair, up the very steps of the great white throne, to lay it on the Father's knees. For the glory of that Father is not in knowing himself God, but in giving himself away--in creating and redeeming and glorifying his children. The man who does not house self, has room to be his real self--God's eternal idea of him. He lives eternally; in virtue of the creative power present in him with momently, unimpeded creation, he _is_. How should there be in him one thought of ruling or commanding or surpassing! He can imagine no bliss, no good in being greater than some one else. He is unable to wish himself other than he is, except more what God made him for, which is indeed the highest willing of the will of God. His brother's wellbeing is essential to his bliss. The thought of standing higher in the favour of God than his brother, would make him miserable. He would lift every brother to the embrace of the Father. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they are of the same spirit as God, and of nature the kingdom of heaven is theirs. 'Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth,' expresses the same principle: the same law holds in the earth as in the kingdom of heaven. How should it be otherwise? Has the creator of the ends of the earth ceased to rule it after his fashion, because his rebellious children have so long, to their own hurt, vainly endeavoured to rule it after theirs? The kingdom of heaven belongs to the poor; the meek shall inherit the earth. The earth as God sees it, as those to whom the kingdom of heaven belongs also see it, is good, all good, very good, fit for the meek to inherit; and one day they shall inherit it--not indeed as men of the world count inheritance, but as the maker and owner of the world has from the first counted it. So different are the two ways of inheriting, that one of the meek may be heartily enjoying his possession, while one of the proud is selfishly walling him out from the spot in it he loves best. The meek are those that do not assert themselves, do not defend themselves, never dream of avenging themselves, or of returning aught but good for evil. They do not imagine it their business to take care of themselves. The meek man may indeed take much thought, but it will not be for himself. He never builds an exclusive wall, shuts any honest neighbour out. He will not always serve the wish, but always the good of his neighbour. His service must be true service. Self shall be no umpire in affair of his. Man's consciousness of himself is but a shadow: the meek man's self always vanishes in the light of a real presence. His nature lies open to the Father of men, and to every good impulse is as it were empty. No bristling importance, no vain attendance of fancied rights and wrongs, guards his door, or crowds the passages of his house; they are for the angels to come and go. Abandoned thus to the truth, as the sparks from the gleaming river dip into the flowers of Dante's unperfected vision, so the many souls of the visible world, lights from the father of lights, enter his heart freely; and by them he inherits the earth he was created to inherit--possesses it as his father made him capable of possessing, and the earth of being possessed. Because the man is meek, his eye is single; he sees things as God sees them, as he would have his child see them: to confront creation with pure eyes is to possess it. How little is the man able to make his own, who would ravish all! The man who, by the exclusion of others from the space he calls his, would grasp any portion of the earth as his own, befools himself in the attempt. The very bread he has swallowed cannot so in any real sense be his. There does not exist such a power of possessing as he would arrogate. There is not such a sense of having as that of which he has conceived the shadow in his degenerate and lapsing imagination. The real owner of his demesne is that pedlar passing his gate, into a divine soul receiving the sweetnesses which not all the greed of the so-counted possessor can keep within his walls: they overflow the cup-lip of the coping, to give themselves to the footfarer. The motions aerial, the sounds, the odours of those imprisoned spaces, are the earnest of a possession for which is ever growing his power of possessing. In no wise will such inheritance interfere with the claim of the man who calls them his. Each possessor has them his, as much as each in his own way is capable of possessing them. For possession is determined by the kind and the scope of the power of possessing; and the earth has a fourth dimension of which the mere owner of its soil knows nothing. The child of the maker is naturally the inheritor. But if the child try to possess as a house the thing his father made an organ, will he succeed in so possessing it? Or if he do nestle in a corner of its case, will he oust thereby the Lord of its multiplex harmony, sitting regnant on the seat of sway, and drawing with 'volant touch' from the house of the child the liege homage of its rendered wealth? To the poverty of such a child are all those left, who think to have and to hold after the corrupt fancies of a greedy self. We cannot see the world as God means it, save in proportion as our souls are meek. In meekness only are we its inheritors. Meekness alone makes the spiritual retina pure to receive God's things as they are, mingling with them neither imperfection nor impurity of its own. A thing so beheld that it conveys to me the divine thought issuing in its form, is mine; by nothing but its mediation between God and my life, can anything be mine. The man so dull as to insist that a thing is his because he has bought it and paid for it, had better bethink himself that not all the combined forces of law, justice, and goodwill, can keep it his; while even death cannot take the world from the man who possesses it as alone the maker of him and it cares that he should possess it. This man leaves it, but carries it with him; that man carries with him only its loss. He passes, unable to close hand or mouth upon any portion of it. Its _ownness_ to him was but the changes he could make in it, and the nearness into which he could bring it to the body he lived in. That body the earth in its turn possesses now, and it lies very still, changing nothing, but being changed. Is this the fine of the great buyer of land, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? In the soul of the meek, the earth remains an endless possession--his because he who made it is his--his as nothing but his maker could ever be the creature's. He has the earth by his divine relation to him who sent it forth from him as a tree sends out its leaves. To inherit the earth is to grow ever more alive to the presence, in it and in all its parts, of him who is the life of men. How far one may advance in such inheritance while yet in the body, will simply depend on the meekness he attains while yet in the body; but it may be, as Frederick Denison Maurice, the servant of God, thought while yet he was with us, that the new heavens and the new earth are the same in which we now live, righteously inhabited by the meek, with their deeper-opened eyes. What if the meek of the dead be thus possessing it even now! But I do not care to speculate. It is enough that the man who refuses to assert himself, seeking no recognition by men, leaving the care of his life to the Father, and occupying himself with the will of the Father, shall find himself, by and by, at home in the Father's house, with all the Father's property his. Which is more the possessor of the world--he who has a thousand houses, or he who, without one house to call his own, has ten in which his knock at the door would rouse instant jubilation? Which is the richer--the man who, his large money spent, would have no refuge; or he for whose necessity a hundred would sacrifice comfort? Which of the two possessed the earth--king Agrippa or tent-maker Paul? Which is the real possessor of a book--the man who has its original and every following edition, and shows, to many an admiring and envying visitor, now this, now that, in binding characteristic, with possessor-pride; yea, from secret shrine is able to draw forth and display the author's manuscript, with the very shapes in which his thoughts came forth to the light of day,--or the man who cherishes one little, hollow-backed, coverless, untitled, bethumbed copy, which he takes with him in his solitary walks and broods over in his silent chamber, always finding in it some beauty or excellence or aid he had not found before--which is to him in truth as a live companion? For what makes the thing a book? Is it not that it has a soul--the mind in it of him who wrote the book? Therefore only can the book be possessed, for life alone can be the possession of life. The dead possess their dead only to bury them. Does not he then, who loves and understands his book, possess it with such possession as is impossible to the other? Just so may the world itself be possessed--either as a volume unread, or as the wine of a soul, 'the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.' It may be possessed as a book filled with words from the mouth of God, or but as the golden-clasped covers of that book; as an embodiment or incarnation of God himself; or but as a house built to sell. The Lord loved the world and the things of the world, not as the men of the world love them, but finding his father in everything that came from his father's heart. The same spirit, then, is required for possessing the kingdom of heaven, and for inheriting the earth. How should it not be so, when the one Power is the informing life of both? If we are the Lord's, we possess the kingdom of heaven, and so inherit the earth. How many who call themselves by his name, would have it otherwise: they would possess the earth and inherit the kingdom! Such fill churches and chapels on Sundays: anywhere suits for the worship of Mammon. Yet verily, earth as well as heaven may be largely possessed even now. Two men are walking abroad together; to the one, the world yields thought after thought of delight; he sees heaven and earth embrace one another; he feels an indescribable presence over and in them; his joy will afterward, in the solitude of his chamber, break forth in song;--to the other, oppressed with the thought of his poverty, or ruminating how to make much into more, the glory of the Lord is but a warm summer day; it enters in at no window of his soul; it offers him no gift; for, in the very temple of God, he looks for no God in it. Nor must there needs be two men to think and feel thus differently. In what diverse fashion will any one _subject_ to ever-changing mood see the same world of the same glad creator! Alas for men, if it changed as we change, if it grew meaningless when we grow faithless! Thought for a morrow that may never come, dread of the dividing death which works for endless companionship, anger with one we love, will cloud the radiant morning, and make the day dark with night. At evening, having bethought ourselves, and returned to him that feeds the ravens, and watches the dying sparrow, and says to his children 'Love one another,' the sunset splendour is glad over us, the western sky is refulgent as the court of the Father when the glad news is spread abroad that a sinner has repented. We have mourned in the twilight of our little faith, but, having sent away our sin, the glory of God's heaven over his darkening earth has comforted us. _SORROW THE PLEDGE OF JOY._ 'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.'--_Matthew_ v. 4. Grief, then, sorrow, pain of heart, mourning, is no partition-wall between man and God. So far is it from opposing any obstacle to the passage of God's light into man's soul, that the Lord congratulates them that mourn. There is no evil in sorrow. True, it is not an essential good, a good in itself, like love; but it will mingle with any good thing, and is even so allied to good that it will open the door of the heart for any good. More of sorrowful than of joyful men are always standing about the everlasting doors that open into the presence of the Most High. It is true also that joy is in its nature more divine than sorrow; for, although man must sorrow, and God share in his sorrow, yet in himself God is not sorrowful, and the 'glad creator' never made man for sorrow: it is but a stormy strait through which he must pass to his ocean of peace. He 'makes the joy the last in every song.' Still, I repeat, a man in sorrow is in general far nearer God than a man in joy. Gladness may make a man forget his thanksgiving; misery drives him to his prayers. For we _are_ not yet, we are only _becoming_. The endless day will at length dawn whose every throbbing moment will heave our hearts Godward; we shall scarce need to lift them up: now, there are two door-keepers to the house of prayer, and Sorrow is more on the alert to open than her grandson Joy. The gladsome child runs farther afield; the wounded child turns to go home. The weeper sits down close to the gate; the lord of life draws nigh to him from within. God loves not sorrow, yet rejoices to see a man sorrowful, for in his sorrow man leaves his heavenward door on the latch, and God can enter to help him. He loves, I say, to see him sorrowful, for then he can come near to part him from that which makes his sorrow a welcome sight. When Ephraim bemoans himself, he is a pleasant child. So good a medicine is sorrow, so powerful to slay the moths that infest and devour the human heart, that the Lord is glad to see a man weep. He congratulates him on his sadness. Grief is an ill-favoured thing, but she is Love's own child, and her mother loves her. The promise to them that mourn, is not _the kingdom of heaven_, but that their mourning shall be ended, that they shall be comforted. To mourn is not to fight with evil; it is only to miss that which is good. It is not an essential heavenly condition, like poorness of spirit or meekness. No man will carry his mourning with him into heaven--or, if he does, it will speedily be turned either into joy, or into what will result in joy, namely, redemptive action. Mourning is a canker-bitten blossom on the rose-tree of love. Is there any mourning worthy the name that has not love for its root? Men mourn because they love. Love is the life out of which are fashioned all the natural feelings, every emotion of man. Love modelled by faith, is hope; love shaped by wrong, is anger--verily anger, though pure of sin; love invaded by loss, is grief. The garment of mourning is oftenest a winding-sheet; the loss of the loved by death is the main cause of the mourning of the world. The Greek word here used to describe the blessed of the Lord, generally means _those that mourn for the dead_. It is not in the New Testament employed exclusively in this sense, neither do I imagine it stands here for such only: there are griefs than death sorer far, and harder far to comfort--harder even for God himself, with whom all things are possible; but it may give pleasure to know that the promise of comfort to those that mourn, may specially apply to those that mourn because their loved have gone out of their sight, and beyond the reach of their cry. Their sorrow, indeed, to the love divine, involves no difficulty; it is a small matter, easily met. The father, whose elder son is ever with him, but whose younger is in a far country, wasting his substance with riotous living, is unspeakably more to be pitied, and is harder to help, than that father both of whose sons lie in the sleep of death. Much of what goes by the name of comfort, is merely worthless; and such as could be comforted by it, I should not care to comfort. Let time do what it may to bring the ease of oblivion; let change of scene do what in it lies to lead thought away from the vanished; let new loves bury grief in the grave of the old love: consolation of such sort could never have crossed the mind of Jesus. Would The Truth call a man blessed because his pain would sooner or later depart, leaving him at best no better than before, and certainly poorer--not only the beloved gone, but the sorrow for him too, and with the sorrow the love that had caused the sorrow? Blessed of God because restored to an absence of sorrow? Such a God were fitly adored only where not one heart worshipped in spirit and in truth. 'The Lord means of course,' some one may say, 'that the comfort of the mourners will be the restoration of that which they have lost. He means, "Blessed are ye although ye mourn, for your sorrow will be turned into joy."' Happy are they whom nothing less than such restoration will comfort! But would such restoration be comfort enough for the heart of Jesus to give? Was ever love so deep, so pure, so perfect, as to be good enough for him? And suppose the love between the parted two had been such, would the mere restoration in the future of that which once he had, be ground enough for so emphatically proclaiming the man blessed now, blessed while yet in the midnight of his loss, and knowing nothing of the hour of his deliverance? To call a man _blessed_ in his sorrow because of something to be given him, surely implies a something better than what he had before! True, the joy that is past may have been so great that the man might well feel blessed in the merest hope of its restoration; but would that be meaning enough for the word in the mouth of the Lord? That the interruption of his blessedness was but temporary, would hardly be fit ground for calling the man _blessed_ in that interruption. _Blessed_ is a strong word, and in the mouth of Jesus means all it can mean. Can his saying here mean less than--'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted with a bliss well worth all the pain of the medicinal sorrow'? Besides, the benediction surely means that the man is blessed _because_ of his condition of mourning, not in spite of it. His mourning is surely a part at least of the Lord's ground for congratulating him: is it not the present operative means whereby the consolation is growing possible? In a word, I do not think the Lord would be content to call a man blessed on the mere ground of his going to be restored to a former bliss by no means perfect; I think he congratulated the mourners upon the grief they were enduring, because he saw the excellent glory of the comfort that was drawing nigh; because he knew the immeasurably greater joy to which the sorrow was at once clearing the way and conducting the mourner. When I say _greater_, God forbid I should mean _other!_ I mean the same bliss, divinely enlarged and divinely purified--passed again through the hands of the creative Perfection. The Lord knew all the history of love and loss; beheld throughout the universe the winged Love discrowning the skeleton Fear. God's comfort must ever be larger than man's grief, else were there gaps in his Godhood. Mere restoration would leave a hiatus, barren and growthless, in the development of his children. But, alas, what a pinched hope, what miserable expectations, most who call themselves the Lord's disciples derive from their notions of his teaching! Well may they think of death as the one thing to be right zealously avoided, and for ever lamented! Who would forsake even the window-less hut of his sorrow for the poor mean place they imagine the Father's house! Why, many of them do not even expect to know their friends there! do not expect to distinguish one from another of all the holy assembly! They will look in many faces, but never to recognize old friends and lovers! A fine saviour of men is their Jesus! Glorious lights they shine in the world of our sorrow, holding forth a word of darkness, of dismallest death! Is the Lord such as they believe him? 'Good-bye, then, good Master!' cries the human heart. 'I thought thou couldst save me, but, alas, thou canst not. If thou savest the part of our being which can sin, thou lettest the part that can love sink into hopeless perdition: thou art not he that should come; I look for another! Thou wouldst destroy and not save me! Thy father is not my father; thy God is not my God! Ah, to whom shall we go? He has not the words of eternal life, this Jesus, and the universe is dark as chaos! O father, this thy son is good, but we need a greater son than he. Never will thy children love thee under the shadow of this new law, that they are not to love one another as thou lovest them!' How does that man love God--of what kind is the love he bears him--who is unable to believe that God loves every throb of every human heart toward another? Did not the Lord die that we should love one another, and be one with him and the Father, and is not the knowledge of difference essential to the deepest love? Can there be oneness without difference? harmony without distinction? Are all to have the same face? then why faces at all? If the plains of heaven are to be crowded with the same one face over and over for ever, but one moment will pass ere by monotony bliss shall have grown ghastly. Why not perfect spheres of featureless ivory rather than those multitudinous heads with one face! Or are we to start afresh with countenances all new, each beautiful, each lovable, each a revelation of the infinite father, each distinct from every other, and therefore all blending toward a full revealing--but never more the dear old precious faces, with its whole story in each, which seem, at the very thought of them, to draw our hearts out of our bosoms? Were they created only to become dear, and be destroyed? Is it in wine only that the old is better? Would such a new heaven be a thing to thank God for? Would this be a prospect on which the Son of Man would congratulate the mourner, or at which the mourner for the dead would count himself blessed? It is a shame that such a preposterous, monstrous unbelief should call for argument. A heaven without human love it were inhuman, and yet more undivine to desire; it ought not to be desired by any being made in the image of God. The lord of life died that his father's children might grow perfect in love--might love their brothers and sisters as he loved them: is it to this end that they must cease to know one another? To annihilate the past of our earthly embodiment, would be to crush under the heel of an iron fate the very idea of tenderness, human or divine. We shall all doubtless be changed, but in what direction?--to something less, or to something greater?--to something that is less we, which means degradation? to something that is not we, which means annihilation? or to something that is more we, which means a farther development of the original idea of us, the divine germ of us, holding in it all we ever were, all we ever can and must become? What is it constitutes this or that man? Is it what he himself thinks he is? Assuredly not. Is it what his friends at any given moment think him? Far from it. In which of his changing moods is he more himself? Loves any lover so little as to desire _no_ change in the person loved--no something different to bring him or her closer to the indwelling ideal? In the loveliest is there not something not like her--something less lovely than she--some little thing in which a change would make her, not less, but more herself? Is it not of the very essence of the Christian hope, that we shall be changed from much bad to all good? If a wife so love that she would keep every opposition, every inconsistency in her husband's as yet but partially harmonious character, she does not love well enough for the kingdom of heaven. If its imperfections be essential to the individuality she loves, and to the repossession of her joy in it, she may be sure that, if he were restored to her as she would have him, she would soon come to love him less--perhaps to love him not at all; for no one who does not love perfection, will ever keep constant in loving. Fault is not lovable; it is only the good in which the alien fault dwells that causes it to seem capable of being loved. Neither is it any man's peculiarities that make him beloved; it is the essential humanity underlying those peculiarities. They may make him interesting, and, where not offensive, they may come to be loved for the sake of the man; but in themselves they are of smallest account. We must not however confound peculiarity with diversity. Diversity is in and from God; peculiarity in and from man. The real man is the divine idea of him; the man God had in view when he began to send him forth out of thought into thinking; the man he is now working to perfect by casting out what is not he, and developing what is he. But in God's real men, that is, his ideal men, the diversity is infinite; he does not repeat his creations; every one of his children differs from every other, and in every one the diversity is lovable. God gives in his children an analysis of himself, an analysis that will never be exhausted. It is the original God-idea of the individual man that will at length be given, without spot or blemish, into the arms of love. Such, surely, is the heart of the comfort the Lord will give those whose love is now making them mourn; and their present blessedness must be the expectation of the time when the true lover shall find the restored the same as the lost--with precious differences: the things that were not like the true self, gone or going; the things that were loveliest, lovelier still; the restored not merely more than the lost, but more the person lost than he or she that was lost. For the things which made him or her what he or she was, the things that rendered lovable, the things essential to the person, will be more present, because more developed. Whether or not the Lord was here thinking specially of the mourners for the dead, as I think he was, he surely does not limit the word of comfort to them, or wish us to believe less than that his father has perfect comfort for every human grief. Out upon such miserable theologians as, instead of receiving them into the good soil of a generous heart, to bring forth truth an hundred fold, so cut and pare the words of the Lord as to take the very life from them, quenching all their glory and colour in their own inability to believe, and still would have the dead letter of them accepted as the comfort of a creator to the sore hearts he made in his own image! Here, 'as if they were God's spies,' some such would tell us that the Lord proclaims the blessedness of those that mourn for their sins, and of them only. What mere honest man would make a promise which was all a reservation, except in one unmentioned point! Assuredly they who mourn for their sins will be gloriously comforted, but certainly such also as are bowed down with any grief. The Lord would have us know that sorrow is not a part of life; that it is but a wind blowing throughout it, to winnow and cleanse. Where shall the woman go whose child is at the point of death, or whom the husband of her youth has forsaken, but to her Father in heaven? Must she keep away until she knows herself sorry for her sins? How should that woman care to be delivered from her sins, how could she accept any comfort, who believed the child of her bosom lost to her for ever? Would the Lord have such a one be of good cheer, of merry heart, because her sins were forgiven her? Would such a mother be a woman of whom the saviour of men might have been born? If a woman forget the child she has borne and nourished, how shall she remember the father from whom she has herself come? The Lord came to heal the broken-hearted; therefore he said, 'Blessed are the mourners.' Hope in God, mother, for the deadest of thy children, even for him who died in his sins. Thou mayest have long to wait for him--but he will be found. It may be, thou thyself wilt one day be sent to seek him and find him. Rest thy hope on no excuse thy love would make for him, neither upon any quibble theological or sacerdotal; hope on in him who created him, and who loves him more than thou. God will excuse him better than thou, and his uncovenanted mercy is larger than that of his ministers. Shall not _the_ Father do _his_ best to find his prodigal? the good shepherd to find his lost sheep? The angels in his presence know the Father, and watch for the prodigal. Thou shalt be comforted. There is one phase of our mourning for the dead which I must not leave unconsidered, seeing it is the pain within pain of all our mourning--the sorrow, namely, with its keen recurrent pangs because of things we have said or done, or omitted to say or do, while we companied with the departed. The very life that would give itself to the other, aches with the sense of having, this time and that, not given what it might. We cast ourselves at their feet, crying, Forgive me, my heart's own! but they are pale with distance, and do not seem to hear. It may be that they are longing in like agony of love after us, but know better, or perhaps only are more assured than we, that we shall be comforted together by and by. Bethink thee, brother, sister, I say; bethink thee of the splendour of God, and answer--Would he be perfect if in his restitution of all things there were no opportunity for declaring our bitter grief and shame for the past? no moment in which to sob--Sister, brother, I am thy slave? no room for making amends? At the same time, when the desired moment comes, one look in the eyes may be enough, and we shall know one another even as God knows us. Like the purposed words of the prodigal in the parable, it may be that the words of our confession will hardly find place. Heart may so speak to heart as to forget there were such things. Mourner, hope in God, and comfort where thou canst, and the lord of mourners will be able to comfort thee the sooner. It may be thy very severity with thyself, has already moved the Lord to take thy part. Such as mourn the loss of love, such from whom the friend, the brother, the lover, has turned away--what shall I cry to them?--You too shall be comforted--only hearken: Whatever selfishness clouds the love that mourns the loss of love, that selfishness must be taken out of it--burned out of it even by pain extreme, if such be needful. By cause of that in thy love which was not love, it may be thy loss has come; anyhow, because of thy love's defect, thou must suffer that it may be supplied. God will not, like the unjust judge, avenge thee to escape the cry that troubles him. No crying will make him comfort thy selfishness. He will not render thee incapable of loving truly. He despises neither thy love though mingled with selfishness, nor thy suffering that springs from both; he will disentangle thy selfishness from thy love, and cast it into the fire. His cure for thy selfishness at once and thy suffering, is to make thee love more--and more truly; not with the love of love, but with the love of the person whose lost love thou bemoanest. For the love of love is the love of thyself. Begin to love as God loves, and thy grief will assuage; but for comfort wait his time. What he will do for thee, he only knows. It may be thou wilt never know what he will do, but only what he has done: it was too good for thee to know save by receiving it. The moment thou art capable of it, thine it will be. One thing is clear in regard to every trouble--that the natural way with it is straight to the Father's knee. The Father is father _for_ his children, else why did he make himself their father? Wouldst thou not, mourner, be comforted rather after the one eternal fashion--the child by the father--than in such poor temporary way as would but leave thee the more exposed to thy worst enemy, thine own unreclaimed self?--an enemy who has but this one good thing in him--that he will always bring thee to sorrow! The Lord has come to wipe away our tears. He is doing it; he will have it done as soon as he can; and until he can, he would have them flow without bitterness; to which end he tells us it is a blessed thing to mourn, because of the comfort on its way. Accept his comfort now, and so prepare for the comfort at hand. He is getting you ready for it, but you must be a fellow worker with him, or he will never have done. He _must_ have you pure in heart, eager after righteousness, a very child of his father in heaven. _GOD'S FAMILY._ 'Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.' 'Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.' 'Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children of God.'--_Matthew_ v. 8, 6, 9. The cry of the deepest in man has always been, to see God. It was the cry of Moses and the cry of Job, the cry of psalmist and of prophet; and to the cry, there has ever been faintly heard a far approach of coming answer. In the fullness of time the Son appears with the proclamation that a certain class of men shall behold the Father: 'Blessed are the pure in heart,' he cries, 'for they shall see God.' He who saw God, who sees him now, who always did and always will see him, says, 'Be pure, and you also shall see him.' To see God was the Lord's own, eternal, one happiness; therefore he knew that the essential bliss of the creature is to behold the face of the creator. In that face lies the mystery of a man's own nature, the history of a man's own being. He who can read no line of it, can know neither himself nor his fellow; he only who knows God a little, can at all understand man. The blessed in Dante's Paradise ever and always read each other's thoughts in God. Looking to him, they find their neighbour. All that the creature needs to see or know, all that the creature can see or know, is the face of him from whom he came. Not seeing and knowing it, he will never be at rest; seeing and knowing it, his existence will yet indeed be a mystery to him and an awe, but no more a dismay. To know that it is, and that it has power neither to continue nor to cease, must to any soul alive enough to appreciate the fact, be merest terror, save also it knows one with it the Power by which it exists. From the man who comes to know and feel that Power in him and one with him, loneliness, anxiety, and fear vanish; he is no more an orphan without a home, a little one astray on the cold waste of a helpless consciousness. 'Father,' he cries, 'hold me fast to thy creating will, that I may know myself one with it, know myself its outcome, its willed embodiment, and rejoice without trembling. Be this the delight of my being, that thou hast willed, hast loved me forth; let me know that I am thy child, born to obey thee. Dost thou not justify thy deed to thyself by thy tenderness toward me? dost thou not justify it to thy child by revealing to him his claim on thee because of thy disparture of him from thyself, because of his utter dependence on thee? Father, thou art in me, else I could not be in thee, could have no house for my soul to dwell in, or any world in which to walk abroad,' These truths are, I believe, the very necessities of fact, but a man does not therefore, at a given moment, necessarily know them. It is absolutely necessary, none the less, to his real being, that he should know these spiritual relations in which he stands to his Origin; yea, that they should be always present and potent with him, and become the heart and sphere and all-pervading substance of his consciousness, of which they are the ground and foundation. Once to have seen them, is not always to see them. There are times, and those times many, when the cares of this world--with no right to any part in our thought, seeing either they are unreasonable or God imperfect--so blind the eyes of the soul to the radiance of the eternally true, that they see it only as if it ought to be true, not as if it must be true; as if it might be true in the region of thought, but could not be true in the region of fact. Our very senses, filled with the things of our passing sojourn, combine to cast discredit upon the existence of any world for the sake of which we are furnished with an inner eye, an eternal ear. But had we once seen God face to face, should we not be always and for ever sure of him? we have had but glimpses of the Father. Yet, if we had seen God face to face, but had again become impure of heart--if such a fearful thought be a possible idea--we should then no more believe that we had ever beheld him. A sin-beclouded soul could never recall the vision whose essential verity was its only possible proof. None but the pure in heart see God; only the growing-pure hope to see him. Even those who saw the Lord, the express image of his person, did not see God. They only saw Jesus--and then but the outside Jesus, or a little more. They were not pure in heart; they saw him and did not see him. They saw him with their eyes, but not with those eyes which alone can see God. Those were not born in them yet. Neither the eyes of the resurrection-body, nor the eyes of unembodied spirits can see God; only the eyes of that eternal something that is of the very essence of God, the thought-eyes, the truth-eyes, the love-eyes, can see him. It is not because we are created and he uncreated, it is not because of any difference involved in that difference of all differences, that we cannot see him. If he pleased to take a shape, and that shape were presented to us, and we saw that shape, we should not therefore be seeing God. Even if we knew it was a shape of God--call it even God himself our eyes rested upon; if we had been told the fact and believed the report; yet, if we did not see the _Godness_, were not capable of recognizing him, so as without the report to know the vision him, we should not be seeing God, we should only be seeing the tabernacle in which for the moment he dwelt. In other words, not seeing what in the form made it a form fit for him to take, we should not be seeing a presence which could only be God. To see God is to stand on the highest point of created being. Not until we see God--no partial and passing embodiment of him, but the abiding presence--do we stand upon our own mountain-top, the height of the existence God has given us, and up to which he is leading us. That there we should stand, is the end of our creation. This truth is at the heart of everything, means all kinds of completions, may be uttered in many ways; but language will never compass it, for form will never contain it. Nor shall we ever see, that is know God perfectly. We shall indeed never absolutely know man or woman or child; but we may know God as we never can know human being--as we never can know ourselves. We not only may, but we must so know him, and it can never be until we are pure in heart. Then shall we know him with the infinitude of an ever-growing knowledge. 'What is it, then, to be pure in heart?' I answer, It is not necessary to define this purity, or to have in the mind any clear form of it. For even to know perfectly, were that possible, what purity of heart is, would not be to be pure in heart. 'How then am I to try after it? can I do so without knowing what it is?' Though you do not know any definition of purity, you know enough to begin to be pure. You do not know what a man is, but you know how to make his acquaintance--perhaps even how to gain his friendship. Your brain does not know what purity is; your heart has some acquaintance with purity itself. Your brain in seeking to know what it is, may even obstruct your heart in bettering its friendship with it. To know what purity is, a man must already be pure; but he who can put the question, already knows enough of purity, I repeat, to begin to become pure. If this moment you determine to start for purity, your conscience will at once tell you where to begin. If you reply, 'My conscience says nothing definite'; I answer, 'You are but playing with your conscience. Determine, and it will speak.' If you care to see God, be pure. If you will not be pure, you will grow more and more impure; and instead of seeing God, will at length find yourself face to face with a vast inane--a vast inane, yet filled full of one inhabitant, that devouring monster, your own false self. If for this neither do you care, I tell you there is a Power that will not have it so; a Love that will make you care by the consequences of not caring. You who seek purity, and would have your fellow-men also seek it, spend not your labour on the stony ground of their intellect, endeavouring to explain what purity is; give their imagination the one pure man; call up their conscience to witness against their own deeds; urge upon them the grand resolve to be pure. With the first endeavour of a soul toward her, Purity will begin to draw nigh, calling for admittance; and never will a man have to pause in the divine toil, asking what next is required of him; the demands of the indwelling Purity will ever be in front of his slow-labouring obedience. If one should say, 'Alas, I am shut out from this blessing! I am not pure in heart: never shall I see God!' here is another word from the same eternal heart to comfort him, making his grief its own consolation. For this man also there is blessing with the messenger of the Father. Unhappy men were we, if God were the God of the perfected only, and not of the growing, the becoming! 'Blessed are they,' says the Lord, concerning the not yet pure, 'which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.' Filled with righteousness, they are pure; pure, they shall see God. Long ere the Lord appeared, ever since man was on the earth, nay, surely, from the very beginning, was his spirit at work in it for righteousness; in the fullness of time he came in his own human person, to fulfil all righteousness. He came to his own of the same mind with himself, who hungered and thirsted after righteousness. They should be fulfilled of righteousness! To hunger and thirst after anything, implies a sore personal need, a strong desire, a passion for that thing. Those that hunger and thirst after righteousness, seek with their whole nature the design of that nature. Nothing less will give them satisfaction; that alone will set them at ease. They long to be delivered from their sins, to send them away, to be clean and blessed by their absence--in a word to become men, God's men; for, sin gone, all the rest is good. It was not in such hearts, it was not in any heart that the revolting legal fiction of imputed righteousness arose. Righteousness itself, God's righteousness, rightness in their own being, in heart and brain and hands, is what they desire. Of such men was Nathanael, in whom was no guile; such, perhaps, was Nicodemus too, although he did come to Jesus by night; such was Zacchaeus. The temple could do nothing to deliver them; but, by their very futility, its observances had done their work, developing the desires they could not meet, making the men hunger and thirst the more after genuine righteousness: the Lord must bring them this bread from heaven. With him, the live, original rightness, in their hearts, they must speedily become righteous. With that Love their friend, who is at once both the root and the flower of things, they would strive vigorously as well as hunger eagerly after righteousness. Love is the father of righteousness. It could not be, and could not be hungered after, but for love. The lord of righteousness himself could not live without Love, without the Father in him. Every heart was created for, and can live no otherwise than in and upon love eternal, perfect, pure, unchanging; and love necessitates righteousness. In how many souls has not the very thought of a real God waked a longing to be different, to be pure, to be right! The fact that this feeling is possible, that a soul can become dissatisfied with itself, and desire a change in itself, reveals God as an essential part of its being; for in itself the soul is aware that it cannot be what it would, what it ought--that it cannot set itself right: a need has been generated in the soul for which the soul can generate no supply; a presence higher than itself must have caused that need; a power greater than itself must supply it, for the soul knows its very need, its very lack, is of something greater than itself. But the primal need of the human soul is yet greater than this; the longing after righteousness is only one of the manifestations of it; the need itself is that of _existence not self-existent_ for the consciousness of the presence of the causing Self-existent. It is the man's need of God. A moral, that is, a human, a spiritual being, must either be God, or one with God. This truth begins to reveal itself when the man begins to feel that he cannot cast out the thing he hates, cannot be the thing he loves. That he hates thus, that he loves thus, is because God is in him, but he finds he has not enough of God. His awaking strength manifests itself in his sense of weakness, for only strength can know itself weak. The negative cannot know itself at all. Weakness cannot know itself weak. It is a little strength that longs for more; it is infant righteousness that hungers after righteousness. To every soul dissatisfied with itself, comes this word, at once rousing and consoling, from the Power that lives and makes him live--that in his hungering and thirsting he is blessed, for he shall be filled. His hungering and thirsting is the divine pledge of the divine meal. The more he hungers and thirsts the more blessed is he; the more room is there in him to receive that which God is yet more eager to give than he to have. It is the miserable emptiness that makes a man hunger and thirst; and, as the body, so the soul hungers after what belongs to its nature. A man hungers and thirsts after righteousness because his nature needs it--needs it because it was made for it; his soul desires its own. His nature is good, and desires more good. Therefore, that he is empty of good, needs discourage no one; for what is emptiness but room to be filled? Emptiness is need of good; the emptiness that desires good, is itself good. Even if the hunger after righteousness should in part spring from a desire after self-respect, it is not therefore _all_ false. A man could not even be ashamed of himself, without some 'feeling sense' of the beauty of rightness. By divine degrees the man will at length grow sick of himself, and desire righteousness with a pure hunger--just as a man longs to eat that which is good, nor thinks of the strength it will restore. To be filled with righteousness, will be to forget even righteousness itself in the bliss of being righteous, that is, a child of God. The thought of righteousness will vanish in the fact of righteousness. When a creature is just what he is meant to be, what only he is fit to be; when, therefore, he is truly himself, he never thinks what he is. He _is_ that thing; why think about it? It is no longer outside of him that he should contemplate or desire it. God made man, and woke in him the hunger for righteousness; the Lord came to enlarge and rouse this hunger. The first and lasting effect of his words must be to make the hungering and thirsting long yet more. If their passion grow to a despairing sense of the unattainable, a hopelessness of ever gaining that without which life were worthless, let them remember that the Lord congratulates the hungry and thirsty, so sure does he know them of being one day satisfied. Their hunger is a precious thing to have, none the less that it were a bad thing to retain unappeased. It springs from the lack but also from the love of good, and its presence makes it possible to supply the lack. Happy, then, ye pining souls! The food you would have, is the one thing the Lord would have you have, the very thing he came to bring you! Fear not, ye hungering and thirsting; you shall have righteousness enough, though none to spare--none to spare, yet enough to overflow upon every man. See how the Lord goes on filling his disciples, John and Peter and James and Paul, with righteousness from within! What honest soul, interpreting the servant by the master, and unbiassed by the tradition of them that would shut the kingdom of heaven against men, can doubt what Paul means by 'the righteousness which is of God by faith'? He was taught of Jesus Christ through the words he had spoken; and the man who does not understand Jesus Christ, will never understand his apostles. What righteousness could St Paul have meant but the same the Lord would have men hunger and thirst after--the very righteousness wherewith God is righteous! They that hunger and thirst after such only righteousness, shall become pure in heart, and shall see God. If your hunger seems long in being filled, it is well it should seem long. But what if your righteousness tarry, because your hunger after it is not eager? There are who sit long at the table because their desire is slow; they eat as who should say, We need no food. In things spiritual, increasing desire is the sign that satisfaction is drawing nearer. But it were better to hunger after righteousness for ever than to dull the sense of lack with the husks of the Christian scribes and lawyers: he who trusts in the atonement instead of in the father of Jesus Christ, fills his fancy with the chimeras of a vulgar legalism, not his heart with the righteousness of God. Hear another like word of the Lord. He assures us that the Father hears the cries of his elect--of those whom he seeks to worship him because they worship in spirit and in truth. 'Shall not God avenge his own elect,' he says, 'which cry day and night unto him?' Now what can God's elect have to keep on crying for, night and day, but righteousness? He allows that God seems to put off answering them, but assures us he will answer them speedily. Even now he must be busy answering their prayers; increasing hunger is the best possible indication that he is doing so. For some divine reason it is well they should not yet know in themselves that he is answering their prayers; but the day must come when we shall be righteous even as he is righteous; when no word of his will miss being understood because of our lack of righteousness; when no unrighteousness shall hide from our eyes the face of the Father. These two promises, of seeing God, and being filled with righteousness, have place between the individual man and his father in heaven directly; the promise I now come to, has place between a man and his God as the God of other men also, as the father of the whole family in heaven and earth: 'Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children of God.' Those that are on their way to see God, those who are growing pure in heart through hunger and thirst after righteousness, are indeed the children of God; but specially the Lord calls those his children who, on their way home, are peace-makers in the travelling company; for, surely, those in any family are specially the children, who make peace with and among the rest. The true idea of the universe is the whole family in heaven and earth. All the children in this part of it, the earth, at least, are not good children; but however far, therefore, the earth is from being a true portion of a real family, the life-germ at the root of the world, that by and for which it exists, is its relation to God the father of men. For the development of this germ in the consciousness of the children, the church--whose idea is the purer family within the more mixed, ever growing as leaven within the meal by absorption, but which itself is, alas! not easily distinguishable from the world it would change--is one of the passing means. For the same purpose, the whole divine family is made up of numberless human families, that in these, men may learn and begin to love one another. God, then, would make of the world a true, divine family. Now the primary necessity to the very existence of a family is peace. Many a human family is no family, and the world is no family yet, for the lack of peace. Wherever peace is growing, there of course is the live peace, counteracting disruption and disintegration, and helping the development of the true essential family. The one question, therefore, as to any family is, whether peace or strife be on the increase in it; for peace alone makes it possible for the binding grass-roots of life--love, namely, and justice--to spread throughout what were else but a wind-blown heap of still drifting sand. The peace-makers quiet the winds of the world ever ready to be up and blowing; they tend and cherish the interlacing roots of the ministering grass; they spin and twist many uniting cords, and they weave many supporting bands; they are the servants, for the truth's sake, of the individual, of the family, of the world, of the great universal family of heaven and earth. They are the true children of that family, the allies and ministers of every clasping and consolidating force in it; fellow-workers they are with God in the creation of the family; they help him to get it to his mind, to perfect his father-idea. Ever radiating peace, they welcome love, but do not seek it; they provoke no jealousy. They are the children of God, for like him they would be one with his creatures. His eldest son, his very likeness, was the first of the family-peace-makers. Preaching peace to them that were afar off and them that were nigh, he stood undefended in the turbulent crowd of his fellows, and it was only over his dead body that his brothers began to come together in the peace that will not be broken. He rose again from the dead; his peace-making brothers, like himself, are dying unto sin; and not yet have the evil children made their father hate, or their elder brother flinch. On the other hand, those whose influence is to divide and separate, causing the hearts of men to lean away from each other, make themselves the children of the evil one: born of God and not of the devil, they turn from God, and adopt the devil their father. They set their God-born life against God, against the whole creative, redemptive purpose of his unifying will, ever obstructing the one prayer of the first-born--that the children may be one with him in the Father. Against the heart-end of creation, against that for which the Son yielded himself utterly, the sowers of strife, the fomenters of discord, contend ceaseless. They do their part with all the other powers of evil to make the world which the love of God holds together--a world at least, though not yet a family--one heaving mass of dissolution. But they labour in vain. Through the mass and through it, that it may cohere, this way and that, guided in dance inexplicable of prophetic harmony, move the children of God, the lights of the world, the lovers of men, the fellow-workers with God, the peace-makers--ever weaving, after a pattern devised by, and known only to him who orders their ways, the web of the world's history. But for them the world would have no history; it would vanish, a cloud of windborne dust. As in his labour, so shall these share in the joy of God, in the divine fruition of victorious endeavour. Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children of God--_the_ children because they set the Father on the throne of the Family. The main practical difficulty, with some at least of the peace-makers, is, how to carry themselves toward the undoers of peace, the disuniters of souls. Perhaps the most potent of these are not those powers of the church visible who care for canon and dogma more than for truth, and for the church more than for Christ; who take uniformity for unity; who strain at a gnat and swallow a camel, nor knowing what spirit they are of; such men, I say, are perhaps neither the most active nor the most potent force working for the disintegration of the body of Christ. I imagine also that neither are the party-liars of politics the worst foes to divine unity, ungenerous, and often knowingly false as they are to their opponents, to whom they seem to have no desire to be honest and fair. I think, rather, they must be the babbling liars of the social circle, and the faithless brothers and unloving sisters of disunited human families. But why inquire? Every self-assertion, every form of self-seeking however small or poor, world-noble or grotesque, is a separating and scattering force. And these forces are multitudinous, these points of radial repulsion are innumerable, because of the prevailing passion of mean souls to seem great, and feel important. If such cannot hope to attract the attention of the great-little world, if they cannot even become 'the cynosure of neighbouring eyes,' they will, in what sphere they may call their own, however small it be, try to make a party for themselves; each, revolving on his or her own axis, will attempt to self-centre a private whirlpool of human monads. To draw such a surrounding, the partisan of self will sometimes gnaw asunder the most precious of bonds, poison whole broods of infant loves. Such real schismatics go about, where not inventing evil, yet rejoicing in iniquity; mishearing; misrepresenting; paralyzing affection; separating hearts. Their chosen calling is that of the strife-maker, the child of the dividing devil. They belong to the class of _the perfidious_, whom Dante places in the lowest infernal gulf as their proper home. Many a woman who now imagines herself standing well in morals and religion, will find herself at last just such a child of the devil; and her misery will be the hope of her redemption. But it is not for her sake that I write these things: would such a woman recognize her own likeness, were I to set it down as close as words could draw it? I am rather as one groping after some light on the true behaviour toward her kind. Are we to treat persons known for liars and strife-makers as the children of the devil or not? Are we to turn away from them, and refuse to acknowledge them, rousing an ignorant strife of tongues concerning our conduct? Are we guilty of connivance, when silent as to the ambush whence we know the wicked arrow privily shot? Are we to call the traitor to account? or are we to give warning of any sort? I have no answer. Each must carry the question that perplexes to the Light of the World. To what purpose is the spirit of God promised to them that ask it, if not to help them order their way aright? One thing is plain--that we must love the strife-maker; another is nearly as plain--that, if we do not love him, we must leave him alone; for without love there can be no peace-making, and words will but occasion more strife. To be kind neither hurts nor compromises. Kindness has many phases, and the fitting form of it may avoid offence, and must avoid untruth. We must not fear what man can do to us, but commit our way to the Father of the Family. We must be nowise anxious to defend ourselves; and if not ourselves because God is our defence, then why our friends? is he not their defence as much as ours? Commit thy friend's cause also to him who judgeth righteously. Be ready to bear testimony for thy friend, as thou wouldst to receive the blow struck at him; but do not plunge into a nest of scorpions to rescue his handkerchief. Be true to him thyself, nor spare to show thou lovest and honourest him; but defence may dishonour: men may say, What! is thy friend's esteem then so small? He is unwise who drags a rich veil from a cactus-bush. Whatever our relation, then, with any peace-breaker, our mercy must ever be within call; and it may help us against an indignation too strong to be pure, to remember that when any man is reviled for righteousness-sake, then is he blessed. _THE REWARD OF OBEDIENCE._ 'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.' 'Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye when men shall revile you and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven; for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.'--_Matthew_, v. 7, 10 11, 12. Mercy cannot get in where mercy goes not out. The outgoing makes way for the incoming. God takes the part of humanity against the man. The man must treat men as he would have God treat him. 'If ye forgive men their trespasses,' the Lord says, 'your heavenly father will also forgive you; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your father forgive your trespasses. And in the prophecy of the judgment of the Son of man, he represents himself as saying, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' But the demand for mercy is far from being for the sake only of the man who needs his neighbour's mercy; it is greatly more for the sake of the man who must show the mercy. It is a small thing to a man whether or not his neighbour be merciful to him; it is life or death to him whether or not he be merciful to his neighbour. The greatest mercy that can be shown to man, is to make him merciful; therefore, if he will not be merciful, the mercy of God must compel him thereto. In the parable of the king taking account of his servants, he delivers the unmerciful debtor to the tormentors, 'till he should pay all that was due unto him.' The king had forgiven his debtor, but as the debtor refuses to pass on the forgiveness to his neighbour--the only way to make a return in kind--the king withdraws his forgiveness. If we forgive not men their trespasses, our trespasses remain. For how can God in any sense forgive, remit, or send away the sin which a man insists on retaining? Unmerciful, we must be given up to the tormentors until we learn to be merciful. God is merciful: we must be merciful. There is no blessedness except in being such as God; it would be altogether unmerciful to leave us unmerciful. The reward of the merciful is, that by their mercy they are rendered capable of receiving the mercy of God--yea, God himself, who is Mercy. That men may be drawn to taste and see and understand, the Lord associates reward with righteousness. The Lord would have men love righteousness, but how are they to love it without being acquainted with it? How are they to go on loving it without a growing knowledge of it? To draw them toward it that they may begin to know it, and to encourage them when assailed by the disappointments that accompany endeavour, he tells them simply a truth concerning it--that in the doing of it, there is great reward. Let no one start with dismay at the idea of a reward of righteousness, saying virtue is its own reward. Is not virtue then a reward? Is any other imaginable reward worth mentioning beside it? True, the man may, after this mode or that, mistake the reward promised; not the less must he have it, or perish. Who will count himself deceived by overfulfilment? Would a parent be deceiving his child in saying, 'My boy, you will have a great reward if you learn Greek,' foreseeing his son's delight in Homer and Plato--now but a valueless waste in his eyes? When his reward comes, will the youth feel aggrieved that it is Greek, and not bank-notes? The nature indeed of the Lord's promised rewards is hardly to be mistaken; yet the foolish remarks one sometimes hears, make me wish to point out that neither is the Lord proclaiming an ethical system, nor does he make the blunder of representing as righteousness the doing of a good thing because of some advantage to be thereby gained. When he promises, he only states some fact that will encourage his disciples--that is, all who learn of him--to meet the difficulties in the way of doing right and so learning righteousness, his object being to make men righteous, not to teach them philosophy. I doubt if those who would, on the ground of mentioned reward, set aside the teaching of the Lord, are as anxious to be righteous as they are to prove him unrighteous. If they were, they would, I think, take more care to represent him truly; they would make farther search into the thing, nor be willing that he whom the world confesses its best man, and whom they themselves, perhaps, confess their superior in conduct, should be found less pure in theory than they. Must the Lord hide from his friends that they will have cause to rejoice that they have been obedient? Must he give them no help to counterbalance the load with which they start on their race? Is he to tell them the horrors of the persecutions that await them, and not the sweet sympathies that will help them through? Was it wrong to assure them that where he was going they should go also? The Lord could not demand of them more righteousness than he does: 'Be ye therefore perfect as your father in heaven is perfect;' but not to help them by word of love, deed of power, and promise of good, would have shown him far less of a brother and a saviour. It is the part of the enemy of righteousness to increase the difficulties in the way of becoming righteous, and to diminish those in the way of seeming righteous. Jesus desires no righteousness for the pride of being righteous, any more than for advantage to be gained by it; therefore, while requiring such purity as the man, beforehand, is unable to imagine, he gives him all the encouragement he can. He will not enhance his victory by difficulties--of them there are enough--but by completeness. He will not demand the loftiest motives in the yet far from loftiest soul: to those the soul must grow. He will hearten the child with promises, and fulfil them to the contentment of the man. Men cannot be righteous without love; to love a righteous man is the best, the only way to learn righteousness: the Lord gives us himself to love, and promises his closest friendship to them that overcome. God's rewards are always in kind. 'I am your father; be my children, and I will be your father.' Every obedience is the opening of another door into the boundless universe of life. So long as the constitution of that universe remains, so long as the world continues to be made by God, righteousness can never fail of perfect reward. Before it could be otherwise, the government must have passed into other hands. The idea of merit is nowise essential to that of reward. Jesus tells us that the lord who finds his servant faithful, will make him sit down to meat, and come forth and serve him; he says likewise, 'When ye have done all, say we are unprofitable servants; we have done only that which it was our duty to do.' Reward is the rebound of Virtue's well-served ball from the hand of Love; a sense of merit is the most sneaking shape that self-satisfaction can assume. God's reward lies closed in all well-doing: the doer of right grows better and humbler, and comes nearer to God's heart as nearer to his likeness; grows more capable of God's own blessedness, and of inheriting the kingdoms of heaven and earth. To be made greater than one's fellows is the offered reward of hell, and involves no greatness; to be made greater than one's self, is the divine reward, and involves a real greatness. A man might be set above all his fellows, to be but so much less than he was before; a man cannot be raised a hair's-breadth above himself, without rising nearer to God. The reward itself, then, is righteousness; and the man who was righteous for the sake of such reward, knowing what it was, would be righteous for the sake of righteousness,--which yet, however, would not be perfection. But I must distinguish and divide no farther now. The reward of mercy is not often of this world; the merciful do not often receive mercy in return from their fellows; perhaps they do not often receive much gratitude. None the less, being the children of their father in heaven, will they go on to show mercy, even to their enemies. They must give like God, and like God be blessed in giving. There is a mercy that lies in the endeavour to share with others the best things God has given: they who do so will be persecuted, and reviled, and slandered, as well as thanked and loved and befriended. The Lord not only promises the greatest possible reward; he tells his disciples the worst they have to expect. He not only shows them the fair countries to which they are bound; he tells them the truth of the rough weather and the hardships of the way. He will not have them choose in ignorance. At the same time he strengthens them to meet coming difficulty, by instructing them in its real nature. All this is part of his preparation of them for his work, for taking his yoke upon them, and becoming fellow-labourers with him in his father's vineyard. They must not imagine, because they are the servants of his father, that therefore they shall find their work easy; they shall only find the reward great. Neither will he have them fancy, when evil comes upon them, that something unforeseen, unprovided for, has befallen them. It is just then, on the contrary, that their reward comes nigh: when men revile them and persecute them, then they may know that they are blessed. Their suffering is ground for rejoicing, for exceeding gladness. The ignominy cast upon them leaves the name of the Lord's Father written upon their foreheads, the mark of the true among the false, of the children among the slaves. With all who suffer for the world, persecution is the seal of their patent, a sign that they were sent: they fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ for his body's sake. Let us look at the similar words the Lord spoke in a later address to his disciples, in the presence of thousands, on the plain,--supplemented with lamentation over such as have what they desire: St Luke vi. 20--26. _'Blessed be ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are ye that hunger now, for ye shall be filled. Blessed are ye that weep now, for ye shall laugh. Blessed are ye when men shall hate you, and when they shall separate you from their company, and shall reproach you, and cast out your name as evil, for the Son of Man's sake. Rejoice ye in that day, and leap for joy, for behold your reward is great in heaven; for in the like manner did their fathers unto the prophets._ _'But woe unto you that are rich! for ye have received your consolation. Woe unto you that are full, for ye shall hunger. Woe unto you that laugh now, for ye shall mourn and weep. Woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you; for so did their fathers to the false prophets.'_ On this occasion he uses the word _hunger_ without limitation. Every true want, every genuine need, every God-created hunger, is a thing provided for in the idea of the universe; but no attempt to fill a void otherwise than the Heart of the Universe intended and intends, is or can be anything but a woe. God forgets none of his children--the naughty ones any more than the good. Love and reward is for the good: love and correction for the bad. The bad ones will trouble the good, but shall do them no hurt. The evil a man does to his neighbour, shall do his neighbour no harm, shall work indeed for his good; but he himself will have to mourn for his doing. A sore injury to himself, it is to his neighbour a cause of jubilation--not for the evil the man does to himself--over that there is sorrow in heaven--but for the good it occasions his neighbour. The poor, the hungry, the weeping, the hated, may lament their lot as if God had forgotten them; but God is all the time caring for them. Blessed in his sight now, they shall soon know themselves blessed. 'Blessed are ye that weep now, for ye shall laugh.'--Welcome words from the glad heart of the Saviour! Do they not make our hearts burn within us?--They shall be comforted even to laughter! The poor, the hungry, the weeping, the hated, the persecuted, are the powerful, the opulent, the merry, the loved, the victorious of God's kingdom,--to be filled with good things, to laugh for very delight, to be honoured and sought and cherished! But such as have their poor consolation in this life--alas for them!--for those who have yet to learn what hunger is! for those whose laughter is as the crackling of thorns! for those who have loved and gathered the praises of men! for the rich, the jocund, the full-fed! Silent-footed evil is on its way to seize them. Dives must go without; Lazarus must have. God's education makes use of terrible extremes. There are last that shall be first, and first that shall be last. The Lord knew what trials, what tortures even awaited his disciples after his death; he knew they would need every encouragement he could give them to keep their hearts strong, lest in some moment of dismay they should deny him. If they had denied him, where would our gospel be? If there are none able and ready to be crucified for him now, alas for the age to come! What a poor travesty of the good news of God will arrive at their doors! Those whom our Lord felicitates are all the children of one family; and everything that can be called blessed or blessing comes of the same righteousness. If a disciple be blessed because of any one thing, every other blessing is either his, or on the way to become his; for he is on the way to receive the very righteousness of God. Each good thing opens the door to the one next it, so to all the rest. But as if these his assurances and promises and comfortings were not large enough; as if the mention of any condition whatever might discourage some humble man of heart with a sense of unfitness, with the fear, perhaps conviction that the promise was not for him; as if some one might say, 'Alas, I am proud, and neither poor in spirit nor meek; I am at times not at all hungry after righteousness; I am not half merciful, and am very ready to feel hurt and indignant: I am shut out from every blessing!' the Lord, knowing the multitudes that can urge nothing in their own favour, and sorely feel they are not blessed, looks abroad over the wide world of his brothers and sisters, and calls aloud, including in the boundless invitation every living soul with but the one qualification of unrest or discomfort, 'Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' _THE YOKE OF JESUS._ At that time Jesus answered and said,--according to Luke, In that hour Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and said,--'I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight. 'All things are delivered unto me of my father; and no man knoweth the son,'--according to Luke, 'who the son is,'--'but the father; neither knoweth any man the father,'--according to Luke, 'who the father is,'--'save the son, and he to whomsoever the son will reveal him.'--_Matthew_ xi. 25--27; _Luke_ x. 21, 22. 'Come unto me, all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.' _Matthew_ xi. 28--30. The words of the Lord in the former two of these paragraphs, are represented, both by Matthew and by Luke, as spoken after the denunciation of the cities of Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum; only in Luke's narrative, the return of the seventy is mentioned between; and there the rejoicing of the Lord over the Father's revelation of himself to babes, appears to have reference to the seventy. The fact that the return of the seventy is not mentioned elsewhere, leaves us free to suppose that the words were indeed spoken on that occasion. The circumstances, however, as circumstances, are to us of little importance, not being necessary to the understanding of the words. The Lord makes no complaint against the wise and prudent; he but recognizes that they are not those to whom his father reveals his best things; for which fact and the reasons of it, he thanks, or praises his father. 'I bless thy will: I see that thou art right: I am of one mind with thee:' something of each of these phases of meaning seems to belong to the Greek word. 'But why not reveal true things first to the wise? Are they not the fittest to receive them?' Yes, if these things and their wisdom lie in the same region--not otherwise. No amount of knowledge or skill in physical science, will make a man the fitter to argue a metaphysical question; and the wisdom of this world, meaning by the term, the philosophy of prudence, self-protection, precaution, specially unfits a man for receiving what the Father has to reveal: in proportion to our care about our own well being, is our incapability of understanding and welcoming the care of the Father. The wise and the prudent, with all their energy of thought, could never see the things of the Father sufficiently to recognize them as true. Their sagacity labours in earthly things, and so fills their minds with their own questions and conclusions, that they cannot see the eternal foundations God has laid in man, or the consequent necessities of their own nature. They are proud of finding out things, but the things they find out are all less than themselves. Because, however, they have discovered them, they imagine such things the goal of the human intellect. If they grant there may be things beyond those, they either count them beyond their reach, or declare themselves uninterested in them: for the wise and prudent, they do not exist. They work only to gather by the senses, and deduce from what they have so gathered, the prudential, the probable, the expedient, the protective. They never think of the essential, of what in itself must be. They are cautious, wary, discreet, judicious, circumspect, provident, temporizing. They have no enthusiasm, and are shy of all forms of it--a clever, hard, thin people, who take _things_ for the universe, and love of facts for love of truth. They know nothing deeper in man than mere surface mental facts and their relations. They do not perceive, or they turn away from any truth which the intellect cannot formulate. Zeal for God will never eat them up: why should it? he is not interesting to them: theology may be; to such men religion means theology. How should the treasure of the Father be open to such? In their hands his rubies would draw in their fire, and cease to glow. The roses of paradise in their gardens would blow withered. They never go beyond the porch of the temple; they are not sure whether there be any _adytum_, and they do not care to go in and see: why indeed should they? it would but be to turn and come out again. Even when they know their duty, they must take it to pieces, and consider the grounds of its claim before they will render it obedience. All those evil doctrines about God that work misery and madness, have their origin in the brains of the wise and prudent, not in the hearts of the children. These wise and prudent, careful to make the words of his messengers rime with their conclusions, interpret the great heart of God, not by their own hearts, but by their miserable intellects; and, postponing the obedience which alone can give power to the understanding, press upon men's minds their wretched interpretations of the will of the Father, instead of the doing of that will upon their hearts. They call their philosophy the truth of God, and say men must hold it, or stand outside. They are the slaves of the letter in all its weakness and imperfection,--and will be until the spirit of the Word, the spirit of obedience shall set them free. The babes must beware lest the wise and prudent come between them and the Father. They must yield no claim to authority over their belief, made by man or community, by church any more than by synagogue. That alone is for them to believe which the Lord reveals to their souls as true; that alone is it possible for them to believe with what he counts belief. The divine object for which teacher or church exists, is the persuasion of the individual heart to come to Jesus, the spirit, to be taught what he alone can teach. Terribly has his gospel suffered in the mouths of the wise and prudent: how would it be faring now, had its first messages been committed to persons of repute, instead of those simple fishermen? It would be nowhere, or, if anywhere, unrecognizable. From the first we should have had a system founded on a human interpretation of the divine gospel, instead of the gospel itself, which would have disappeared. As it is, we have had one dull miserable human system after another usurping its place; but, thank God, the gospel remains! The little child, heedless of his trailing cloud of glory, and looking about him aghast in an unknown world, may yet see and run to the arms open to the children. How often has not some symbol employed in the New Testament been forced into the service of argument for one or another contemptible scheme of redemption, which were no redemption; while the truth for the sake of which the symbol was used, the thing meant to be conveyed by it, has lain unregarded beside the heap of rubbish! Had the wise and prudent been the confidants of God, I repeat, the letter would at once have usurped the place of the spirit; the ministering slave would have been set over the household; a system of religion, with its rickety, malodorous plan of salvation, would not only have at once been put in the place of a living Christ, but would yet have held that place. The great brother, the human God, the eternal Son, the living one, would have been as utterly hidden from the tearful eyes and aching hearts of the weary and heavy-laden, as if he had never come from the deeps of love to call the children home out of the shadows of a self-haunted universe. But the Father revealed the Father's things to his babes; the babes loved, and began to do them, therewith began to understand them, and went on growing in the knowledge of them and in the power of communicating them; while to the wise and prudent, the deepest words of the most babe-like of them all, John Boanerges, even now appear but a finger-worn rosary of platitudes. The babe understands the wise and prudent, but is understood only by the babe. The Father, then, revealed his things to babes, because the babes were his own little ones, uncorrupted by the wisdom or the care of this world, and therefore able to receive them. The others, though his children, had not begun to be like him, therefore could not receive them. The Father's things could not have got anyhow into their minds without leaving all their value, all their spirit, outside the unchildlike place. The babes are near enough whence they come, to understand a little how things go in the presence of their father in heaven, and thereby to interpret the words of the Son. The child who has not yet 'walked above a mile or two from' his 'first love,' is not out of touch with the mind of his Father. Quickly will he seal the old bond when the Son himself, the first of the babes, the one perfect babe of God, comes to lead the children out of the lovely 'shadows of eternity' into the land of the 'white celestial thought.' As God is the one only real father, so is it only to God that any one can be a perfect child. In his garden only can childhood blossom. The leader of the great array of little ones, himself, in virtue of his firstborn childhood, the first recipient of the revelations of his father, having thus given thanks, and said why he gave thanks, breaks out afresh, renewing expression of delight that God had willed it thus: 'Even so, father, for so it seemed good in thy sight!' I venture to translate, 'Yea, O Father, for thus came forth satisfaction before thee!' and think he meant, 'Yea, Father, for thereat were all thy angels filled with satisfaction,' The babes were the prophets in heaven, and the angels were glad to find it was to be so upon the earth also; they rejoiced to see that what was bound in heaven, was bound on earth; that the same principle held in each. Compare Matt, xviii. 10 and 14; also Luke xv. 10. 'See that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you that their angels in heaven do always behold the face of my father which is in heaven.... Thus it is not the will before your father which is in heaven,'--_among the angels who stand before him_, I think he means,--'that one of these little ones should perish.' 'Even so, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.' Having thus thanked his father that he has done after his own 'good and acceptable and perfect will', he turns to his disciples, and tells them that he knows the Father, being his Son, and that he only can reveal the Father to the rest of his children: 'All things are delivered unto me of my father; and no one knoweth the son but the father; neither knoweth any one the father save the son, and he to whomsoever the son willeth to reveal him.' It is almost as if his mention of the babes brought his thoughts back to himself and his father, between whom lay the secret of all life and all sending--yea, all loving. The relation of the Father and the Son contains the idea of the universe. Jesus tells his disciples that his father had no secrets from him; that he knew the Father as the Father knew him. The Son must know the Father; he only could know him--and knowing, he could reveal him; the Son could make the other, the imperfect children, know the Father, and so become such as he. All things were given unto him by the Father, because he was the Son of the Father: for the same reason he could reveal the things of the Father to the child of the Father. The child-relation is the one eternal, ever enduring, never changing relation. Note that, while the Lord here represents the knowledge his father and he have each of the other as limited to themselves, the statement is one of fact only, not of design or intention: his presence in the world is for the removal of that limitation. The Father knows the Son and sends him to us that we may know him; the Son knows the Father, and dies to reveal him. The glory of God's mysteries is--that they are for his children to look into. When the Lord took the little child in the presence of his disciples, and declared him his representative, he made him the representative of his father also; but the eternal child alone can reveal him. To reveal is immeasurably more than to represent; it is to present to the eyes that know the true when they see it. Jesus represented God; the spirit of Jesus reveals God. The represented God a man may refuse; many refused the Lord; the revealed God no one can refuse; to see God and to love him are one. He can be revealed only to the child; perfectly, to the pure child only. All the discipline of the world is to make men children, that God may be revealed to them. No man, when first he comes to himself, can have any true knowledge of God; he can only have a desire after such knowledge. But while he does not know him at all, he cannot become in his heart God's child; so the Father must draw nearer to him. He sends therefore his first born, who does know him, is exactly like him, and can represent him perfectly. Drawn to him, the children receive him, and then he is able to reveal the Father to them. No wisdom of the wise can find out God; no words of the God-loving can reveal him. The simplicity of the whole natural relation is too deep for the philosopher. The Son alone can reveal God; the child alone understand him. The elder brother companies with the younger, and makes him yet more a child like himself. He interpenetrates his willing companion with his obedient glory. He lets him see how he delights in his father, and lets him know that God is his father too. He rouses in his little brother the sense of their father's will; and the younger, as he hears and obeys, begins to see that his elder brother must be the very image of their father. He becomes more and more of a child, and more and more the Son reveals to him the Father. For he knows that to know the Father is the one thing needful to every child of the Father, the one thing to fill the divine gulf of his necessity. To see the Father is the cry of every child-heart in the universe of the Father--is the need, where not the cry, of every living soul. Comfort yourselves then, brothers and sisters; he to whom the Son will reveal him shall know the Father; and the Son came to us that he might reveal him. 'Eternal Brother,' we cry, 'show us the Father. Be thyself to us, that in thee we may know him. We too are his children: let the other children share with thee in the things of the Father.' Having spoken to his father first, and now to his disciples, the Lord turns to the whole world, and lets his heart overflow:--St Matthew alone has saved for us the eternal cry:--'Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'--'I know the Father; come then to me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden.' He does not here call those who want to know the Father; his cry goes far beyond them; it reaches to the ends of the earth. He calls those who are weary; those who do not know that ignorance of the Father is the cause of all their labour and the heaviness of their burden. 'Come unto me,' he says, 'and I will give you rest.' This is the Lord's own form of his gospel, more intensely personal and direct, at the same time of yet wider inclusion, than that which, at Nazareth, he appropriated from Isaiah; differing from it also in this, that it is interfused with strongest persuasion to the troubled to enter into and share his own eternal rest. I will turn his argument a little. 'I have rest because I know the Father. Be meek and lowly of heart toward him as I am; let him lay his yoke upon you as he lays it on me. I do his will, not my own. Take on you the yoke that I wear; be his child like me; become a babe to whom he can reveal his wonders. Then shall you too find rest to your souls; you shall have the same peace I have; you will be weary and heavy laden no more. I find my yoke easy, my burden light.' We must not imagine that, when the Lord says, 'Take my yoke upon you,' he means a yoke which he lays on those that come to him; 'my yoke' is the yoke he wears himself, the yoke his father lays upon him, the yoke out of which, that same moment, he speaks, bearing it with glad patience. 'You must take on you the yoke I have taken: the Father lays it upon us.' The best of the good wine remains; I have kept it to the last. A friend pointed out to me that the Master does not mean we must take on us a yoke like his; we must take on us the very yoke he is carrying. Dante, describing how, on the first terrace of Purgatory, he walked stooping, to be on a level with Oderisi, who went bowed to the ground by the ponderous burden of the pride he had cherished on earth, says--'I went walking with this heavy-laden soul, just as oxen walk in the yoke': this picture almost always comes to me with the words of the Lord, 'Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me.' Their intent is, 'Take the other end of my yoke, doing as I do, being as I am.' Think of it a moment:--to walk in the same yoke with the Son of Man, doing the same labour with him, and having the same feeling common to him and us! This, and nothing else, is offered the man who would have rest to his soul; is required of the man who would know the Father; is by the Lord pressed upon him to whom he would give the same peace which pervades and sustains his own eternal heart. But a yoke is for drawing withal: what load is it the Lord is drawing? Wherewith is the cart laden which he would have us help him draw? With what but the will of the eternal, the perfect Father? How should the Father honour the Son, but by giving him his will to embody in deed, by making him hand to his father's heart!--and hardest of all, in bringing home his children! Specially in drawing this load must his yoke-fellow share. How to draw it, he must learn of him who draws by his side. Whoever, in the commonest duties that fall to him, does as the Father would have him do, bears His yoke along with Jesus; and the Father takes his help for the redemption of the world--for the deliverance of men from the slavery of their own rubbish-laden waggons, into the liberty of God's husbandmen. Bearing the same yoke with Jesus, the man learns to walk step for step with him, drawing, drawing the cart laden with the will of the father of both, and rejoicing with the joy of Jesus. The glory of existence is to take up its burden, and exist for Existence eternal and supreme--for the Father who does his divine and perfect best to impart his glad life to us, making us sharers of that nature which is bliss, and that labour which is peace. He lives for us; we must live for him. The little ones must take their full share in the great Father's work: his work is the business of the family. Starts thy soul, trembles thy brain at the thought of such a burden as the will of the eternally creating, eternally saving God? 'How shall mortal man walk in such a yoke,' sayest thou, 'even with the Son of God bearing it also?' Why, brother, sister, it is the only burden bearable--the only burden that can be borne of mortal! Under any other, the lightest, he must at last sink outworn, his very soul gray with sickness! He on whom lay the other half of the burden of God, the weight of his creation to redeem, says, 'The yoke I bear is easy; the burden I draw is light'; and this he said, knowing the death he was to die. The yoke did not gall his neck, the burden did not overstrain his sinews, neither did the goal on Calvary fright him from the straight way thither. He had the will of the Father to work out, and that will was his strength as well as his joy. He had the same will as his father. To him the one thing worth living for, was the share the love of his father gave him in his work. He loved his father even to the death of the cross, and eternally beyond it. When we give ourselves up to the Father as the Son gave himself, we shall not only find our yoke easy and our burden light, but that they communicate ease and lightness; not only will they not make us weary, but they will give us rest from all other weariness. Let us not waste a moment in asking how this can be; the only way to know that, is to take the yoke on us. That rest is a secret for every heart to know, for never a tongue to tell. Only by having it can we know it. If it seem impossible to take the yoke on us, let us attempt the impossible; let us lay hold of the yoke, and bow our heads, and try to get our necks under it. Giving our Father the opportunity, he will help and not fail us. He is helping us every moment, when least we think we need his help; when most we think we do, then may we most boldly, as most earnestly we must, cry for it. What or how much his creatures can do or bear, God only understands; but when most it seems impossible to do or bear, we must be most confident that he will neither demand too much, nor fail with the vital creator-help. That help will be there when wanted--that is, the moment it can be help. To be able beforehand to imagine ourselves doing or bearing, we have neither claim nor need. It is vain to think that any weariness, however caused, any burden, however slight, may be got rid of otherwise than by bowing the neck to the yoke of the Father's will. There can be no other rest for heart and soul that he has created. From every burden, from every anxiety, from all dread of shame or loss, even loss of love itself, that yoke will set us free. These words of the Lord--so many as are reported in common by St Matthew and St Luke, namely his thanksgiving, and his statement concerning the mutual knowledge of his father and himself, meet me like a well known face unexpectedly encountered: they come to me like a piece of heavenly bread cut from the gospel of St John. The words are not in that gospel, and in St Matthew's and St Luke's there is nothing more of the kind--in St Mark's nothing like them. The passage seems to me just one solitary flower testifying to the presence in the gospels of Matthew and Luke of the same root of thought and feeling which everywhere blossoms in that of John. It looks as if it had crept out of the fourth gospel into the first and third, and seems a true sign, though no proof, that, however much the fourth be unlike the other gospels, they have all the same origin. Some disciple was able to remember one such word of which the promised comforter brought many to the remembrance of John. I do not see how the more phenomenal gospels are ever to be understood, save through a right perception of the relation in which the Lord stands to his father, which relation is the main subject of the gospel according to St John. As to the loving cry of the great brother to the whole weary world which Matthew alone has set down, I seem aware of a certain indescribable individuality in its tone, distinguishing it from all his other sayings on record. Those who come at the call of the Lord, and take the rest he offers them, learning of him, and bearing the yoke of the Father, are the salt of the earth, the light of the world. _THE SALT AND THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD._ 'Ye are the salt of the earth; but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? It is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill, cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick, and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your father which is in heaven.'--_Matthew_ v. 3--16. The Lord knew these men, and had their hearts in his hand; else would he have told them they were the salt of the earth and the light of the world? They were in danger, it is true, of pluming themselves on what he had said of them, of taking their importance to their own credit, and seeing themselves other than God saw them. Yet the Lord does not hesitate to call his few humble disciples the salt of the earth; and every century since has borne witness that such indeed they were--that he spoke of them but the simple fact. Where would the world be now but for their salt and their light! The world that knows neither their salt nor their light may imagine itself now at least greatly retarded by the long-drawn survival of their influences; but such as have chosen aspiration and not ambition, will cry, But for those men, whither should we at this moment be bound! Their Master set them to be salt against corruption, and light against darkness; and our souls answer and say, Lord, they have been the salt, they have been the light of the world! No sooner has he used the symbol of the salt, than the Lord proceeds to supplement its incompleteness. They were salt which must remember that it is salt; which must live salt, and choose salt, and be salt. For the whole worth of salt lies in its being salt; and all the saltness of the moral salt lies in the will to be salt. To lose its saltness, then, is to cease to exist, save as a vile thing whose very being is unjustifiable. What is to be done with saltless salt!--with such as would teach religion, and know not God! Having thus carried the figure as far as it will serve him, the Master changes it for another, which he can carry farther. For salt only preserves from growing bad; it does not cause anything to grow better. His disciples are the salt of the world, but they are more. Therefore, having warned the human salt to look to itself that it be indeed salt, he proceeds: 'Ye are the light of the world, a city, a candle,' and so resumes his former path of persuasion and enforcement: 'It is so, therefore make it so.'--'Ye are the salt of the earth; therefore be salt.'--'Ye are the light of the world; therefore shine.'--'Ye are a city; be seen upon your hill.'--'Ye are the Lord's candles; let no bushels cover you. Let your light shine.' Every disciple of the Lord must be a preacher of righteousness. Cities are the best lighted portions of the world; and perhaps the Lord meant, 'You are a live city, therefore light up your city.' Some connection of the city with light seems probably in his thought, seeing the allusion to the city on the hill comes in the midst of what he says about light in relation to his disciples as the light of the world. Anyhow the city is the best circle in which, and the best centre from which to diffuse moral light. A man brooding in the desert may find the very light of light, but he must go to the city to let it shine. From the general idea of light, however, associated with the city as visible to all the country around, the Lord turns at once, in this probably fragmentary representation of his words, to the homelier, the more individual and personally applicable figure of the lamp: 'Neither do men light a lamp, and put it under a bushel, but on a lampstand, and it giveth light to all that are in the house,' Here let us meditate a moment. For what is a lamp or a man lighted? For them that need light, therefore for all. A candle is not lighted for itself; neither is a man. The light that serves self only, is no true light; its one virtue is that it will soon go out. The bushel needs to be lighted, but not by being put over the lamp. The man's own soul needs to be lighted, but light for itself only, light covered by the bushel, is darkness whether to soul or bushel. Light unshared is darkness. To be light indeed, it must shine out. It is of the very essence of light, that it is for others. The thing is true of the spiritual as of the physical light--of the truth as of its type. The lights of the world are live lights. The lamp that the Lord kindles is a lamp that can will to shine, a soul that must shine. Its true relation to the spirits around it--to God and its fellows, is its light. Then only does it fully shine, when its love, which is its light, shows it to all the souls within its scope, and all those souls to each other, and so does its part to bring all together toward one. In the darkness each soul is alone; in the light the souls are a family. Men do not light a lamp to kill it with a bushel, but to set it on a stand, that it may give light to all that are in the house. The Lord seems to say, 'So have I lighted you, not that you may shine for yourselves, but that you may give light unto all. I have set you like a city on a hill, that the whole earth may see and share in your light. Shine therefore; so shine before men, that they may see your good things and glorify your father for the light with which he has lighted you. Take heed to your light that it be such, that it so shine, that in you men may see the Father--may see your works so good, so plainly his, that they recognize his presence in you, and thank him for you.' There was the danger always of the shadow of the self-bushel clouding the lamp the Father had lighted; and the moment they ceased to show the Father, the light that was in them was darkness. God alone is the light, and our light is the shining of his will in our lives. If our light shine at all, it must be, it can be only in showing the Father; nothing is light that does not bear him witness. The man that sees the glory of God, would turn sick at the thought of glorifying his own self, whose one only possible glory is to shine with the glory of God. When a man tries to shine from the self that is not one with God and filled with his light, he is but making ready for his own gathering contempt. The man who, like his Lord, seeks not his own, but the will of him who sent him, he alone shines. He who would shine in the praises of men, will, sooner or later, find himself but a Gideon's-pitcher left broken on the field. Let us bestir ourselves then to keep this word of the Lord; and to this end inquire how we are to let our light shine. To the man who does not try to order his thoughts and feelings and judgments after the will of the Father, I have nothing to say; he can have no light to let shine. For to let our light shine is to see that in every, even the smallest thing, our lives and actions correspond to what we know of God; that, as the true children of our father in heaven, we do everything as he would have us do it. Need I say that to let our light shine is to be just, honourable, true, courteous, more careful over the claim of our neighbour than our own, as knowing ourselves in danger of overlooking it, and not bound to insist on every claim of our own! The man who takes no count of what is fair, friendly, pure, unselfish, lovely, gracious,--where is his claim to call Jesus his master? where his claim to Christianity? What saves his claim from being merest mockery? The outshining of any human light must be obedience to truth recognized as such; our first show of light as the Lord's disciples must be in doing the things he tells us. Naturally thus we declare him our master, the ruler of our conduct, the enlightener of our souls; and while in the doing of his will a man is learning the loveliness of righteousness, he can hardly fail to let some light shine across the dust of his failures, the exhalations from his faults. Thus will his disciples shine as lights in the world, holding forth the Word of life. To shine, we must keep in his light, sunning our souls in it by thinking of what he said and did, and would have us think and do. So shall we drink the light like some diamonds, keep it, and shine in the dark. Doing his will, men will see in us that we count the world his, hold that his will and not ours must be done in it. Our very faces will then shine with the hope of seeing him, and being taken home where he is. Only let us remember that trying to look what we ought to be, is the beginning of hypocrisy. If we do indeed expect better things to come, we must let our hope appear. A Christian who looks gloomy at the mention of death, still more, one who talks of his friends as if he had lost them, turns the bushel of his little-faith over the lamp of the Lord's light. Death is but our visible horizon, and our look ought always to be focussed beyond it. We should never talk as if death were the end of anything. To let our light shine, we must take care that we have no respect for riches: if we have none, there is no fear of our showing any. To treat the poor man with less attention or cordiality than the rich, is to show ourselves the servants of Mammon. In like manner we must lay no value on the praise of men, or in any way seek it. We must honour no man because of intellect, fame, or success. We must not shrink, in fear of the judgment of men, from doing openly what we hold right; or at all acknowledge as a law-giver what calls itself Society, or harbour the least anxiety for its approval. In business, the custom of the trade must be understood by both contracting parties, else it can have no place, either as law or excuse, with the disciple of Jesus. The man to whom business is one thing and religion another, is not a disciple. If he refuses to harmonize them by making his business religion, he has already chosen Mammon; if he thinks not to settle the question, it is settled. The most futile of all human endeavours is, to serve God and Mammon. The man who makes the endeavour, betrays his Master in the temple and kisses him in the garden; takes advantage of him in the shop, and offers him 'divine service!' on Sunday. His very church-going is but a further service of Mammon! But let us waste no strength in despising such men; let us rather turn the light upon ourselves: are we not in some way denying him? Is our light bearing witness? Is it shining before men so that they glorify God for it? If it does not shine, it is darkness. In the darkness which a man takes for light, he will thrust at the heart of the Lord himself. He who goes about his everyday duty as the work the Father has given him to do, is he who lets his light shine. But such a man will not be content with this: he must yet let his light shine. Whatever makes his heart glad, he will have his neighbour share. The body is a lantern; it must not be a dark lantern; the glowing heart must show in the shining face. His glad thought may not be one to impart to his neighbour, but he must not quench the vibration of its gladness ere it reach him. What shall we say of him who comes from his closet, his mountain-top, with such a veil over his face as masks his very humanity? Is it with the Father that man has had communion, whose every movement is self-hampered, and in whose eyes dwell no smiles for the people of his house? The man who receives the quiet attentions, the divine ministrations, of wife or son or daughter, without token of pleasure, without sign of gratitude, can hardly have been with Jesus. Or can he have been with him, and have left him behind in his closet? If his faith in God take from a man his cheerfulness, how shall the face of a man ever shine? And why are they always glad before the face of the Father in heaven? It is true that pain or inward grief may blameless banish all smiling, but even heaviness of heart has no right so to tumble the bushel over the lamp that no ray can get out to tell that love is yet burning within. The man must at least let his dear ones know that something else than displeasure with them is the cause of his clouded countenance. What a sweet colour the divine light takes to itself in courtesy, whose perfection is the recognition of every man as a temple of the living God. Sorely ruined, sadly defiled the temple may be, but if God had left it, it would be a heap and not a house. Next to love, specially will the light shine out in fairness. What light can he have in him who is always on his own side, and will never descry reason or right on that of his adversary? And certainly, if he that showeth mercy, as well he that showeth justice, ought to do it with cheerfulness. But if all our light shine out, and none of our darkness, shall we not be in utmost danger of hypocrisy? Yes, if we but hide our darkness, and do not strive to slay it with our light: what way have we to show it, while struggling to destroy it? Only when we cherish evil, is there hypocrisy in hiding it. A man who is honestly fighting it and showing it no quarter, is already conqueror in Christ, or will soon be--and more than innocent. But our good feelings, those that make for righteousness and unity, we ought to let shine; they claim to commune with the light in others. Many parents hold words unsaid which would lift hundred-weights from the hearts of their children, yea, make them leap for joy. A stern father and a silent mother make mournful, or, which is far worse, hard children. Need I add that, if any one, hearing the injunction to let his light shine, makes himself shine instead, it is because the light is not in him! But what shall I say of such as, in the name of religion, let only their darkness out--the darkness of worshipped opinion, the darkness of lip-honour and disobedience! Such are those who tear asunder the body of Christ with the explosives of dispute, on the plea of such a unity as alone they can understand, namely a paltry uniformity. What have not the 'good church-man' and the 'strong dissenter' to answer for, who, hiding what true light they have, if indeed they have any, each under the bushel of his party-spirit, radiate only repulsion! There is no schism, none whatever, in using diverse forms of thought or worship: true honesty is never schismatic. The real schismatic is the man who turns away love and justice from the neighbour who holds theories in religious philosophy, or as to church-constitution, different from his own; who denies or avoids his brother because he follows not with him; who calls him a schismatic because he prefers this or that mode of public worship not his. The other _may_ be schismatic; he himself certainly _is_. He walks in the darkness of opinion, not in the light of life, not in the faith which worketh by love. Worst of all is division in the name of Christ who came to make one. Neither Paul nor Apollos nor Cephas would--least of all will Christ be the leader of any party save that of his own elect, the party of love--of love which suffereth long and is kind; which envieth not, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. 'Let your light shine,' says the Lord:--if I have none, the call cannot apply to me; but I must bethink me, lest, in the night I am cherishing about me, the Lord come upon me like a thief. There may be those, however, and I think they are numerous, who, having some, or imagining they have much light, yet have not enough to know the duty of letting it shine on their neighbours. The Lord would have his men so alive with his light, that it should for ever go flashing from each to all, and all, with eternal response, keep glorifying the Father. Dost thou look for a good time coming, friend, when thou shalt know as thou art known? Let the joy of thy hope stream forth upon thy neighbours. Fold them round in that which maketh thyself glad. Let thy nature grow more expansive and communicative. Look like the man thou art--a man who knows something very good. Thou believest thyself on the way to the heart of things: walk so, shine so, that all that see thee shall want to go with thee. What light issues from such as make their faces long at the very name of death, and look and speak as if it were the end of all things and the worst of evils? Jesus told his men not to fear death; told them his friends should go to be with him; told them they should live in the house of his father and their father; and since then he has risen himself from the tomb, and gone to prepare a place for them: who, what are these miserable refusers of comfort? Not Christians, surely! Oh, yes, they are Christians! 'They are gone,' they say, 'to be for ever with the Lord;' and then they weep and lament, and seem more afraid of starting to join them than of aught else under the sun! To the last attainable moment they cling to what they call life. They are children--were there ever any other such children?--who hang crying to the skirts of their mother, and will not be lifted to her bosom. They are not of Paul's mind: to be with Him is not better! They worship their physician; and their prayer to the God of their life is to spare them from more life. What sort of Christians are they? Where shines their light? Alas for thee, poor world, hadst thou no better lights than these! You who have light, show yourselves the sons and daughters of Light, of God, of Hope--the heirs of a great completeness. Freely let your light shine. Only take heed that ye do not your righteousness before men, to be seen of them. _THE RIGHT HAND AND THE LEFT._ Take heed that ye do not your righteousness before men to be seen of them; otherwise ye have no reward of your father which is in heaven.... But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth; that thine alms may be in secret; and thy father which seeth in secret, himself shall reward thee.--_Matthew_ vi. I,3. Let your light out freely, that men may see it, but not that men may see you. If I do anything, not because it has to be done, not because God would have it so, not that I may do right, not because it is honest, not that I love the thing, not that I may be true to my Lord, not that the truth may be recognized as truth and as his, but that I may be seen as the doer, that I may be praised of men, that I may gain repute or fame; be the thing itself ever so good, I may look to men for my reward, for there is none for me with the Father. If, that light being my pleasure, I do it that the light may shine, and that men may know _the_ Light, the father of lights, I do well; but if I do it that I may be seen shining, that the light may be noted as emanating from me and not from another, then am I of those that seek glory of men, and worship Satan; the light that through me may possibly illuminate others, will, in me and for me, be darkness. _But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth_. How, then, am I to let my light shine, if I take pains to hide what I do? The injunction is not to hide what you do from others, but to hide it from yourself. The Master would have you not plume yourself upon it, not cherish the thought that you have done it, or confer with yourself in satisfaction over it. You must not count it to your praise. A man must not desire to be satisfied with himself. His right hand must not seek the praise of his left hand. His doing must not invite his after-thinking. The right hand must let the thing done go, as a thing done-with. We must meditate nothing either as a fine thing for us to do, or a fine thing for us to have done. We must not imagine any merit in us: it would be to love a lie, for we can have none; there is no such thing possible. Is there anything to be proud of in refusing to worship the devil? Is it a grand thing, is it a meritorious thing, not to be vile? When we have done all, we are unprofitable servants. Our very best is but decent. What more could it be? Why then think of it as anything more? What things could we or any one do, worthy of being brooded over as possessions. Good to do, they were; bad to pride ourselves upon, they are. Why should a man meditate with satisfaction on having denied himself some selfish indulgence, any more than on having washed his hands? May we roll the rejection of a villainy as a sweet morsel under our tongues? They were the worst villains of all who could be proud of not having committed a villainy; and their pride would but render them the more capable of the villainy, when next the temptation to it came. Even if our supposed merit were of the positive order, and we did every duty perfectly, the moment we began to pride ourselves upon the fact, we should drop into a hell of worthlessness. What are we for but to do our duty? We must do it, and think nothing of ourselves for that, neither care what men think of us for anything. With the praise or blame of men we have nought to do. Their blame may be a good thing, their praise cannot be. But the worst sort of the praise of men is the praise we give ourselves. We must do nothing to be seen of ourselves. We must seek no approbation even, but that of God, else we shut the door of the kingdom from the outside. His approbation will but quicken our sense of unworthiness. What! seek the praise of men for being fair to our own brothers and sisters? What! seek the praise of God for laying our hearts at the feet of him to whom we utterly belong? There is no pride so mean--and all pride is absolutely, essentially mean--as the pride of being holier than our fellow, except the pride of being holy. Such imagined holiness is foulness. Religion itself in the hearts of the unreal, is a dead thing; what seems life in it, is the vermiculate life of a corpse. There is one word in the context, as we have it in the authorized version, that used to trouble me, seeming to make its publicity a portion of the reward for doing certain right things in secret: I mean the word _openly_, at the ends of the fourth, the sixth, and the eighteenth verses, making the Lord seem to say, 'Avoid the praise of men, and thou shalt at length have the praise of men.'--'Thy father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly.' _Thy reward shall be seen of men! and thou seen as the receiver of the reward!_ In what other way could the word, then or now, be fairly understood? It must be the interpolation of some Jew scribe, who, even after learning a little of the Christ, continued unable to conceive as reward anything that did not draw part at least of its sweetness from the gazing eyes of the multitude. Glad was I to find that the word is not in the best manuscripts; and God be thanked that it is left out in the revised version. What shall we think of the daring that could interpolate it! But of like sort is the daring of much exposition of the Master's words. What men have not faith enough to receive, they will still dilute to the standard of their own faculty of reception. If any one say, 'Why did the Lord let the word remain there so long, if he never said it?' I answer: Perhaps that the minds of his disciples might be troubled at its presence, arise against it, and do him right by casting it out--and so Wisdom be justified of her children. But there are some who, if the notion of reward is not naturally a trouble to them, yet have come to feel it such, because of the words of certain objectors who think to take a higher stand than the Christian, saying the idea of reward for doing right is a low, an unworthy idea. Now, verily, it would be a low thing for any child to do his father's will in the hope that his father would reward him for it; but it is quite another thing for a father whose child endeavours to please him, to let him know that he recognizes his childness toward him, and will be fatherly good to him. What kind of a father were the man who, because there could be no merit or desert in doing well, would not give his child a smile or a pleased word when he saw him trying his best? Would not such acknowledgment from the father be the natural correlate of the child's behaviour? and what would the father's smile be but the perfect reward of the child? Suppose the father to love the child so that he wants to give him everything, but dares not until his character is developed: must he not be glad, and show his gladness, at every shade of a progress that will at length set him free to throne his son over all that he has? 'I am an unprofitable servant,' says the man who has done his duty; but his lord, coming unexpectedly, and finding him at his post, girds himself, and makes him sit down to meat, and comes forth and serves him. How could the divine order of things, founded for growth and gradual betterment, hold and proceed without the notion of return for a thing done? Must there be only current and no tide? How can we be workers with God at his work, and he never say 'Thank you, my child'? Will he take joy in his success and give none? Is he the husbandman to take all the profit, and muzzle the mouth of his ox? When a man does work for another, he has his wages for it, and society exists by the dependence of man upon man through work and wages. The devil is not the inventor of this society; he has invented the notion of a certain degradation in work, a still greater in wages; and following this up, has constituted a Society after his own likeness, which despises work, leaves it undone, and so can claim its wages without disgrace. If you say, 'No one ought to do right for the sake of reward,' I go farther and say, 'No man _can_ do right for the sake of reward. A man may do a thing indifferent, he may do a thing wrong, for the sake of reward; but a thing in itself right, done for reward, would, in the very doing, cease to be right.' At the same time, if a man does right, he cannot escape being rewarded for it; and to refuse the reward, would be to refuse life, and foil the creative love. The whole question is of the kind of reward expected. What first reward for doing well, may I look for? To grow purer in heart, and stronger in the hope of at length seeing God. If a man be not after this fashion rewarded, he must perish. As to happiness or any lower rewards that naturally follow the first--is God to destroy the law of his universe, the divine sequence of cause and effect in order to say: 'You must do well, but you shall gain no good by it; you must lead a dull joyless existence to all eternity, that lack of delight may show you pure'? Could Love create with such end in view? Righteousness does not demand creation; it is Love, not Righteousness, that cannot live alone. The creature must already be, ere Righteousness can put in a claim. But, hearts and souls there, Love itself, which created for love and joy, presses the demand of Righteousness first. A righteousness that created misery in order to up-hold itself, would be a righteousness that was unrighteous. God will die for righteousness, but never create for a joyless righteousness. To call into being the necessarily and hopelessly incomplete, would be to wrong creation in its very essence. To create for the knowledge of himself, and then not give himself, would be injustice even to cruelty; and if God give himself, what other reward--there can be no _further_--is not included, seeing he is Life and all her children--the All in all? It will take the utmost joy God can give, to let men know him; and what man, knowing him, would mind losing every other joy? Only what other joy could keep from entering, where the God of joy already dwelt? The law of the universe holds, and will hold, the name of the Father be praised:--'Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.' 'They have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.' 'He that soweth to his flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the spirit, shall of the spirit reap life everlasting.' 'Whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance; but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath.' To object to Christianity as selfish, is utter foolishness; Christianity alone gives any hope of deliverance from selfishness. Is it selfish to desire to love? Is it selfish to hope for purity and the sight of God? What better can we do for our neighbour than to become altogether righteous toward him? Will he not be the nearer sharing in the exceeding great reward of a return to the divine idea? Where is the evil toward God, where the wrong to my neighbour, if I think sometimes of the joys to follow in the train of perfect loving? Is not the atmosphere of God, love itself, the very breath of the Father, wherein can float no thinnest pollution of selfishness, the only material wherewithal to build the airy castles of heaven? 'Creator,' the childlike heart might cry, 'give me all the wages, all the reward thy perfect father-heart can give thy unmeriting child. My fit wages may be pain, sorrow, humiliation of soul: I stretch out my hands to receive them. Thy reward will be to lift me out of the mire of self-love, and bring me nearer to thyself and thy children: welcome, divinest of good things! Thy highest reward is thy purest gift; thou didst make me for it from the first; thou, the eternal life, hast been labouring still to fit me for receiving it--the vision, the knowledge, the possession of thyself. I can seek but what thou waitest and watchest to give: I would be such into whom thy love can flow.' It seems to me that the only merit that could live before God, is the merit of Jesus--who of himself, at once, untaught, unimplored, laid himself aside, and turned to the Father, refusing his life save in the Father. Like God, of himself he chose righteousness, and so merited to sit on the throne of God. In the same spirit he gave himself afterward to his father's children, and merited the power to transfuse the life-redeeming energy of his spirit into theirs: made perfect, he became the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey him. But it is a word of little daring, that Jesus had no thought of merit in what he did--that he saw only what he had to be, what he must do.--I speak after the poor fashion of a man lost in what is too great for him, yet is his very life.--Where can be a man's merit in refusing to go down to an abyss of loss--loss of the right to be, loss of his father, loss of himself? Would Satan, with all the instincts and impulses of his origin in him, have _merited_ eternal life by refusing to be a devil? Not the less would he have had eternal life; not the less would he have been wrapt in the love and confidence of the Father. He would have had his reward. I cannot imagine thing created meriting aught save by divine courtesy. I suspect the notion of merit belongs to a low development, and the higher a man rises, the less will he find it worth a thought. Perhaps we shall come to see that it owes what being it has, to man, that it is a thing thinkable only by man. I suspect it is not a thought of the eternal mind, and has in itself no existence, being to God merely a thing thought by man. For merit lives from man to man, And not from man, O Lord, to thee. The man, then, who does right, and seeks no praise from men, while he merits nothing, shall be rewarded by his Father, and his reward will be right precious to him. We must let our light shine, make our faith, our hope, our love, manifest--that men may praise, not us for shining, but the Father for creating the light. No man with faith, hope, love, alive in his soul, could make the divine possessions a show to gain for himself the admiration of men: not the less must they appear in our words, in our looks, in our carriage--above all, in honourable, unselfish, hospitable, helpful deeds. Our light must shine in cheerfulness, in joy, yea, where a man has the gift, in merriment; in freedom from care save for one another, in interest in the things of others, in fearlessness and tenderness, in courtesy and graciousness. In our anger and indignation, specially, must our light shine. But we must give no quarter to the most shadowy thought of how this or that will look. From the faintest thought of the praise of men, we must turn away. No man can be the disciple of Christ and desire fame. To desire fame is ignoble; it is a beggarly greed. In the noble mind, it is the more of an infirmity. There is no aspiration in it--nothing but ambition. It is simply selfishness that would be proud if it could. Fame is the applause of the many, and the judgment of the many is foolish; therefore the greater the fame, the more is the foolishness that swells it, and the worse is the foolishness that longs after it. Aspiration is the sole escape from ambition. He who aspires--that is, does his endeavour to rise above himself--neither lusts to be higher than his neighbour, nor seeks to mount in his opinion. What light there is in him shines the more that he does nothing to be seen of men. He stands in the mist between the gulf and the glory, and looks upward. He loves not his own soul, but longs to be clean. Out of the gulf into the glory, Father, my soul cries out to be lifted. Dark is the woof of my dismal story, Thorough thy sun-warp stormily drifted!-- Out of the gulf into the glory, Lift me, and save my story. I have done many things merely shameful; I am a man ashamed, my father! My life is ashamed and broken and blameful-- The broken and blameful, oh, cleanse and gather! Heartily shame me, Lord, of the shameful! To my judge I flee with my blameful. Saviour, at peace in thy perfect purity, Think what it is, not to be pure! Strong in thy love's essential security, Think upon those who are never secure. Full fill my soul with the light of thy purity; Fold me in love's security. O Father, O Brother, my heart is sore aching Help it to ache as much as is needful; Is it you cleansing me, mending, remaking, Dear potter-hands, so tender and heedful? Sick of my past, of my own self aching-- Hurt on, dear hands, with your making. Proud of the form thou hadst given thy vessel, Proud of myself, I forgot my donor; Down in the dust I began to nestle, Poured thee no wine, and drank deep of dishonour! Lord, thou hast broken, thou mendest thy vessel! In the dust of thy glory I nestle. O Lord, the earnest expectation of thy creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God. _THE HOPE OF THE UNIVERSE._ For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God.--_Romans_ viii. 19. Let us try, through these words, to get at the idea in St Paul's mind for which they stand, and have so long stood. It can be no worthless idea they represent--no mere platitude, which a man, failing to understand it at once, may without loss leave behind him. The words mean something which Paul believes vitally associated with the life and death of his Master. He had seen Jesus with his bodily eyes, I think, but he had not seen him with those alone; he had seen and saw him with the real eyes, the eyes that do not see except they understand; and the sight of him had uplifted his whole nature--first his pure will for righteousness, and then his hoping imagination; and out of these, in the knowledge of Jesus, he spoke. The letters he has left behind him, written in the power of this uplifting, have waked but poor ideas in poor minds; for words, if they seem to mean anything, must always seem to mean something within the scope of the mind hearing them. Words cannot convey the thought of a thinker to a no-thinker; of a largely aspiring and self-discontented soul, to a creature satisfied with his poverty, and counting his meagre faculty the human standard. Neither will they readily reveal the mind of one old in thought, to one who has but lately begun to think. The higher the reader's notion of what St Paul intends--the higher the idea, that is, which his words wake in him, the more likely is it to be the same which moved the man who had seen Jesus, and was his own no more. If a man err in his interpretation, it will hardly be by attributing to his words an intent too high. First then, what does Paul, the slave of Christ, intend by 'the creature' or 'the creation'? If he means the _visible world_, he did not surely, and without saying so, mean to exclude the noblest part of it--the sentient! If he did, it is doubly strange that he should immediately attribute not merely sense, but conscious sense, to that part, the insentient, namely, which remained. If you say he does so but by a figure of speech, I answer that a figure that meant less than it said--and how much less would not this?--would be one altogether unworthy of the Lord's messenger. First, I repeat, to exclude the sentient from the term common to both in the word _creation_ or _creature_--and then to attribute the capabilities of the sentient to the insentient, as a mere figure to express the hopes of men with regard to the perfecting of the insentient for the comfort of men, were a violence as unfit in rhetoric as in its own nature. Take another part of the same utterance: 'For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now:' is it not manifest that to interpret such words as referring to the mere imperfections of the insensate material world, would be to make of the phrase a worthless hyperbole? I am inclined to believe the apostle regarded the whole visible creation as, in far differing degrees of consciousness, a live outcome from the heart of the living one, who is all and in all: such view, at the same time, I do not care to insist upon; I only care to argue that the word _creature_ or _creation_ must include everything in creation that has sentient life. That I should in the class include a greater number of phenomena than a reader may be prepared to admit, will nowise affect the force of what I have to say, seeing my point is simply this: that in the term _creation_, Paul comprises all creatures capable of suffering; the condition of which sentient, therefore superior portion, gives him occasion to speak of the whole creation as suffering in the process of its divine evolution or development, groaning and travailing as in the pangs of giving birth to a better self, a nobler world. It is not necessary to the idea that the creation should know what it is groaning after, or wherein the higher condition constituting its deliverance must consist. The human race groans for deliverance: how much does the race know that its redemption lies in becoming one with the Father, and partaking of his glory? Here and there one of the race knows it--which is indeed a pledge for the race--but the race cannot be said to know its own lack, or to have even a far-off notion of what alone can stay its groaning. In like manner the whole creation is groaning after an unforeseen yet essential birth--groans with the necessity of being freed from a state that is but a transitional and not a true one, from a condition that nowise answers to the intent in which existence began. In both the lower creation and the higher, this same groaning of the fettered idea after a freer life, seems the first enforced decree of a holy fate, and itself the first movement of the hampered thing toward the liberty of another birth. To believe that God made many of the lower creatures merely for prey, or to be the slaves of a slave, and writhe under the tyrannies of a cruel master who will not serve his own master; that he created and is creating an endless succession of them to reap little or no good of life but its cessation--a doctrine held by some, and practically accepted by multitudes--is to believe in a God who, so far as one portion at least of his creation is concerned, is a demon. But a creative demon is an absurdity; and were such a creator possible, he would not be God, but must one day be found and destroyed by the real God. Not the less the fact remains, that miserable suffering abounds among them, and that, even supposing God did not foresee how creation would turn out for them, the thing lies at his door. He has besides made them so far dumb that they cannot move the hearts of the oppressors into whose hands he has given them, telling how hard they find the world, how sore their life in it. The apostle takes up their case, and gives us material for an answer to such as blame God for their sad condition. There are many, I suspect, who from the eighth chapter of St Paul's epistle to the Romans, gather this much and no more:--that the lower animals alive at the coming of the Lord, whensoever that may be, will thenceforward, with such as thereafter may come into existence, lead a happy life for the time allotted them! Strong champions of God, these profound believers! What lovers of life, what disciples of St Paul, nay, what disciples of Jesus, to whom such a gloss is consolation for the moans of a universe! Truly, the furnace of affliction they would extinguish thus, casts out the more an evil odour! For all the creatures who through ages of misery have groaned and travailed and died, to these mild Christians it is enough that they are dead, therefore, as they would argue, out of it now! 'It is well with them,' I seem to hear such say; 'they are mercifully dealt with; their sufferings are over; they had not to live on for ever in oppression. The God of their life has taken from them their past, and troubles them with no future!' It is true this were no small consolation concerning such as are gone away! Surely rest is better than ceaseless toil and pain! But what shall we say of such a heedless God as those Christians are content to worship! Is he a merciful God? Is he a loving God? How shall he die to escape the remorse of the authorship of so much misery? Our pity turns from the dead creature to the live creator who could live and know himself the maker of so many extinguished hearts, whose friend was--not he, but Death. Blessed be the name of the Father of Jesus, there is no such creator! Be we have not to do with the dead only; there are those which live and suffer: is there no comfort concerning them, but that they too shall at length die and leave their misery? And what shall we say of those coming, and yet to come and pass--evermore issuing from the fountain of life, daily born into evil things? Will the consolation that they will soon die, suffice for the heart of the child who laments over his dead bird or rabbit, and would fain love that father in heaven who keeps on making the creatures? Alas, they are crowding in; they cannot help themselves; their misery is awaiting them! Would those Christians have me believe in a God who differentiates creatures from himself, only that they may be the prey of other creatures, or spend a few hours or years, helpless and lonely, speechless and without appeal, in merciless hands, then pass away into nothingness? I will not; in the name of Jesus, I will not. Had he not known something better, would he have said what he did about the father of men and the sparrows? What many men call their beliefs, are but the prejudices they happen to have picked up: why should such believers waste a thought as to how their paltry fellow-inhabitants of the planet fare? Many indeed have all their lives been too busy making their human fellows groan and sweat for their own fancied well-being, to spare a thought for the fate of the yet more helpless. But there are not a few, who would be indignant at having their belief in God questioned, who yet seem greatly to fear imagining him better than he is: whether is it he or themselves they dread injuring by expecting too much of him? 'You see the plain facts of the case!' they say. 'There is no questioning them! What can be done for the poor things--except indeed you take the absurd notion into your head, that they too have a life beyond the grave?' Why should such a notion seem to you absurd? I answer. The teachers of the nation have unwittingly, it seems to me through unbelief, wronged the animals deeply by their silence anent the thoughtless popular presumption that they have no hereafter; thus leaving them deprived of a great advantage to their position among men. But I suppose they too have taken it for granted that the Preserver of man and beast never had a thought of keeping one beast alive beyond a certain time; in which case heartless men might well argue he did not care how they wronged them, for he meant them no redress. Their immortality is no new faith with me, but as old as my childhood. Do you believe in immortality for yourself? I would ask any reader who is not in sympathy with my hope for the animals. If not, I have no argument with you. But if you do, why not believe in it for them? Verily, were immortality no greater a thing for the animals than it seems for men to some who yet profess to expect it, I should scarce care to insist upon their share in it. But if the thought be anywise precious to you, is it essential to your enjoyment in it, that nothing less than yourself should share its realization? Are you the lowest kind of creature that _could_ be permitted to live? Had God been of like heart with you, would he have given life and immortality to creatures so much less than himself as we? Are these not worth making immortal? How, then, were they worth calling out of the depth of no-being? It is a greater deed, to make be that which was not, than to seal it with an infinite immortality: did God do that which was not worth doing? What he thought worth making, you think not worth continuing made! You would have him go on for ever creating new things with one hand, and annihilating those he had made with the other--for I presume you would not prefer the earth to be without animals! If it were harder for God to make the former go on living, than to send forth new, then his creatures were no better than the toys which a child makes, and destroys as he makes them. For what good, for what divine purpose is the maker of the sparrow present at its death, if he does not care what becomes of it? What is he there for, I repeat, if he have no care that it go well with his bird in its dying, that it be neither comfortless nor lost in the abyss? If his presence be no good to the sparrow, are you very sure what good it will be to you when your hour comes? Believe it is not by a little only that the heart of the universe is tenderer, more loving, more just and fair, than yours or mine. If you did not believe you were yourself to out-live death, I could not blame you for thinking all was over with the sparrow; but to believe in immortality for yourself, and not care to believe in it for the sparrow, would be simply hard-hearted and selfish. If it would make you happy to think there was life beyond death for the sparrow as well as for yourself, I would gladly help you at least to hope that there may be. I know of no reason why I should not look for the animals to rise again, in the same sense in which I hope myself to rise again--which is, to reappear, clothed with another and better form of life than before. If the Father will raise his children, why should he not also raise those whom he has taught his little ones to love? Love is the one bond of the universe, the heart of God, the life of his children: if animals can be loved, they are loveable; if they can love, they are yet more plainly loveable: love is eternal; how then should its object perish? Must the very immortality of love divide the bond of love? Must the love live on for ever without its object? or worse still, must the love die with its object, and be eternal no more than it? What a mis-invented correlation in which the one side was eternal, the other, where not yet annihilated, constantly perishing! Is not our love to the animals a precious variety of love? And if God gave the creatures to us, that a new phase of love might be born in us toward another kind of life from the same fountain, why should the new life be more perishing than the new love? Can you imagine that, if, here-after, one of God's little ones were to ask him to give again one of the earth's old loves--kitten, or pony, or squirrel, or dog, which he had taken from him, the Father would say no? If the thing was so good that God made it for and gave it to the child at first who never asked for it, why should he not give it again to the child who prays for it because the Father had made him love it? What a child may ask for, the Father will keep ready. That there are difficulties in the way of believing thus, I grant; that there are impossibilities, I deny. Perhaps the first difficulty that occurs is, the many forms of life which we cannot desire again to see. But while we would gladly keep the perfected forms of the higher animals, we may hope that those of many other kinds are as transitory as their bodies, belonging but to a stage of development. All animal forms tend to higher: why should not the individual, as well as the race, pass through stages of ascent. If I have myself gone through each of the typical forms of lower life on my way to the human--a supposition by antenatal history rendered probable--and therefore may have passed through any number of individual forms of life, I do not see why each of the lower animals should not as well pass upward through a succession of bettering embodiments. I grant that the theory requires another to complement it; namely, that those men and women, who do not even approximately fulfil the conditions of their elevated rank, who will not endeavour after the great human-divine idea, striving to ascend, are sent away back down to that stage of development, say of fish or insect or reptile, beyond which their moral nature has refused to advance. Who has not seen or known men who _appeared_ not to have passed, or indeed in some things to have approached the development of the more human of the lower animals! Let those take care who look contemptuously upon the animals, lest, in misusing one of them, they misuse some ancestor of their own, sent back, as the one mercy for him, to reassume far past forms and conditions--far past in physical, that is, but not in moral development--and so have another opportunity of passing the self-constituted barrier. The suggestion may appear very ridiculous, and no doubt lends itself to humorous comment; but what if it should be true! what if the amused reader should himself be getting ready to follow the remanded ancestor! Upon it, however, I do not care to spend thought or time, least of all argument; what I care to press is the question--If we believe in the progress of creation as hitherto manifested, also in the marvellous changes of form that take place in every individual of certain classes, why should there be any difficulty in hoping that old lives may reappear in new forms? The typical soul reappears in higher formal type; why may not also the individual soul reappear in higher form? Multitudes evidently count it safest to hold by a dull scheme of things: can it be because, like David in Browning's poem _Saul_, they dread lest they should worst the Giver by inventing better gifts than his? That we do not know, is the best reason for hoping to the full extent God has made possible to us. If then we go wrong, it will be in the direction of the right, and with such aberration as will be easier to correct than what must come of refusing to imagine, and leaving the dullest traditional prepossessions to rule our hearts and minds, with no claim but the poverty of their expectation from the paternal riches. Those that hope little cannot grow much. To them the very glory of God must be a small thing, for their hope of it is so small as not to be worth rejoicing in. That he is a faithful creator means nothing to them for far the larger portion of the creatures he has made! Truly their notion of faithfulness is poor enough; how then can their faith be strong! In the very nature of divine things, the common-place must be false. The stupid, self-satisfied soul, which cannot know its own stupidity, and will not trouble itself either to understand or to imagine, is the farthest behind of all the backward children in God's nursery. As I say, then, I know no cause of reasonable difficulty in regard to the continued existence of the lower animals, except the present nature of some of them. But what Christian will dare to say that God does not care about them?--and he knows them as we cannot know them. Great or small, they are his. Great are all his results; small are all his beginnings. That we have to send many of his creatures out of this phase of their life because of their hurtfulness in this phase of ours, is to me no stumbling-block. The very fact that this has always had to be done, the long protracted combat of the race with such, and the constantly repeated though not invariable victory of the man, has had an essential and incalculable share in the development of humanity, which is the rendering of man capable of knowing God; and when their part to that end is no longer necessary, changed conditions may speedily so operate that the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard lie down with the kid. The difficulty may go for nothing in view of the forces of that future with which this loving speculation concerns itself. I would now lead my companion a little closer to what the apostle says in the nineteenth verse; to come closer, if we may, to the idea that burned in his heart when he wrote what we call the eighth chapter of his epistle to the Romans. Oh, how far ahead he seems, in his hope for the creation, of the footsore and halting brigade of Christians at present crossing the world! He knew Christ, and could therefore look into the will of the Father. _For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God_! At the head of one of his poems, Henry Vaughan has this Latin translation of the verse: I do not know whether he found or made it, but it is closer to its sense than ours:-- 'Etenim res creatae exerto capite observantes expectant revelationem filiorum Dei.'--'For the things created, watching with head thrust out, await the revelation of the sons of God.' Why? Because God has subjected the creation to vanity, in the hope that the creation itself shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For this double deliverance--from corruption and the consequent subjection to vanity, the creation is eagerly watching. The bondage of corruption God encounters and counteracts by subjection to vanity. Corruption is the breaking up of the essential idea; the falling away from the original indwelling and life-causing thought. It is met by the suffering which itself causes. That suffering is for redemption, for deliverance. It is the life in the corrupting thing that makes the suffering possible; it is the live part, not the corrupted part that suffers; it is the redeemable, not the doomed thing, that is subjected to vanity. The race in which evil--that is, corruption, is at work, needs, as the one means for its rescue, subjection to vanity; it is the one hope against the supremacy of corruption; and the whole encircling, harboring, and helping creation must, for the sake of man, its head, and for its own further sake too, share in this subjection to vanity with its hope of deliverance. Corruption brings in vanity, causes empty aching gaps in vitality. This aching is what most people regard as evil: it is the unpleasant cure of evil. It takes all shapes of suffering--of the body, of the mind, of the heart, of the spirit. It is altogether beneficent: without this ever invading vanity, what hope would there be for the rich and powerful, accustomed to, and set upon their own way? what hope for the self-indulgent, the conceited, the greedy, the miserly? The more things men seek, the more varied the things they imagine they need, the more are they subject to vanity--all the forms of which may be summed in the word disappointment. He who would not house with disappointment, must seek the incorruptible, the true. He must break the bondage of havings and shows; of rumours, and praises, and pretences, and selfish pleasures. He must come out of the false into the real; out of the darkness into the light; out of the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. To bring men to break with corruption, the gulf of the inane yawns before them. Aghast in soul, they cry, 'Vanity of vanities! all is vanity!' and beyond the abyss begin to espy the eternal world of truth. Note now 'the hope that the creation itself also,' as something besides and other than God's men and women, 'shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption, into the liberty of the glory of the children of God.' The creation then is to share in the deliverance and liberty and glory of the children of God. Deliverance from corruption, liberty from bondage, must include escape from the very home and goal of corruption, namely death,--and that in all its kinds and degrees. When you say then that for the children of God there is no more death, remember that the deliverance of the creature is from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. Dead, in bondage to corruption, how can they share in the liberty of the children of Life? Where is their deliverance? If such then be the words of the apostle, does he, or does he not, I ask, hold the idea of the immortality of the animals? If you say all he means is, that the creatures alive at the coming of the Lord will be set free from the tyranny of corrupt man, I refer you to what I have already said of the poverty of such an interpretation, accepting the failure of justice and love toward those that have passed away, are passing, and must yet, ere that coming, be born to pass away for ever. For the man whose heart aches to adore a faithful creator, what comfort lies in such good news! He must perish for lack of a true God! Oh lame conclusion to the grand prophecy! Is God a mocker, who will not be mocked? Is there a past to God with which he has done? Is Time too much for him? Is he God enough to care for those that happen to live at one present time, but not God enough to care for those that happened to live at another present time? Or did he care for them, but could not help them? Shall we not rather believe that the vessels of less honour, the misused, the maltreated, shall be filled full with creative wine at last? Shall not the children have little dogs under the Father's table, to which to let fall plenty of crumbs? If there was such provision for the sparrows of our Lord's time of sojourn, and he will bring yet better with him when he comes again, how should the dead sparrows and their sorrows be passed over of him with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning? Or would the deliverance of the creatures into the groaned-for liberty have been much worth mentioning, if within a few years their share in the glory of the sons of God was to die away in death? But the gifts of God are without repentance. How St Paul longs for and loves liberty! Only true lover of liberty is he, who will die to give it to his neighbour! St Paul loved liberty more than his own liberty. But then see how different his notion of the liberty on its way to the children of God, from the dull modern fancies of heaven still set forth in the popular hymn-books! The new heaven and the new earth will at least be a heaven and an earth! What would the newest earth be to the old children without its animals? Barer than the heavens emptied of the constellations that are called by their names. Then, if the earth must have its animals, why not the old ones, already dear? The sons of God are not a new race of sons of God, but the old race glorified:--why a new race of animals, and not the old ones glorified? The apostle says they are to share in the liberty of the sons of God: will it not then be a liberty like ours, a liberty always ready to be offered on the altar of love? What sweet service will not that of the animals be, thus offered! How sweet also to minister to them in their turns of need! For to us doubtless will they then flee for help in any difficulty, as now they flee from us in dread of our tyranny. What lovelier feature in the newness of the new earth, than the old animals glorified with us, in their home with us--our common home, the house of our father--each kind an unfailing pleasure to the other! Ah, what horses! Ah, what dogs! Ah, what wild beasts, and what birds in the air! The whole redeemed creation goes to make up St Paul's heaven. He had learned of him who would leave no one out; who made the excuse for his murderers that they did not know what they were doing. Is not the prophecy on the groaning creation to have its fulfilment in the new heavens and the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness? Does not this involve its existence beyond what we call this world? Why should it not then involve immortality? Would it not be more like the king eternal, immortal, invisible, to know no life but the immortal? to create nothing that could die; to slay nothing but evil? 'For he is not a God of the dead, but of the living; for all live unto him.' But what is this liberty of the children of God, for which the whole creation is waiting? The children themselves are waiting for it: when they have it, then will their house and retinue, the creation, whose fate hangs on that of the children, share it with them: what is this liberty? All liberty must of course consist in the realization of the ideal harmony between the creative will and the created life; in the correspondence of the creature's active being to the creator's idea, which is his substantial soul. In other words the creature's liberty is what his obedience to the law of his existence, the will of his maker, effects for him. The instant a soul moves counter to the will of its prime cause, the universe is its prison; it dashes against the walls of it, and the sweetest of its uplifting and sustaining forces at once become its manacles and fetters. But St Paul is not at the moment thinking either of the metaphysical notion of liberty, or of its religious realization; he has in his thought the birth of the soul's consciousness of freedom. 'And not only so'--that the creation groaneth and travaileth--'but ourselves also, which have the first fruits of the spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for.... the redemption of our body.'--We are not free, he implies, until our body is redeemed; then all the creation will be free with us. He regards the creation as part of our embodiment. The whole creation is waiting for the manifestation of the sons of God--that is, the redemption of their body, the idea of which extends to their whole material envelopment, with all the life that belongs to it. For this as for them, the bonds of corruption must fall away; it must enter into the same liberty with them, and be that for which it was created--a vital temple, perfected by the unbroken indwelling of its divinity. The liberty here intended, it may be unnecessary to say, is not that essential liberty--freedom from sin, but the completing of the redemption of the spirit by the redemption of the body, the perfecting of the greater by its necessary complement of the less. Evil has been constantly at work, turning our house of the body into a prison; rendering it more opaque and heavy and insensible; casting about it bands and cerements, and filling it with aches and pains. The freest soul, the purest of lovers, the man most incapable of anything mean, would not, for all his mighty liberty, yet feel absolutely at large while chained to a dying body--nor the less hampered, but the more, that that dying body was his own. The redemption of the body, therefore, the making of it for the man a genuine, perfected, responsive house-alive, is essential to the apostle's notion of a man's deliverance. The new man must have a new body with a new heaven and earth. St Paul never thinks of himself as released from body; he desires a perfect one, and of a nobler sort; he would inhabit a heaven-made house, and give up the earth-made one, suitable only to this lower stage of life, infected and unsafe from the first, and now much dilapidated in the service of the Master who could so easily give him a better. He wants a spiritual body--a body that will not thwart but second the needs and aspirations of the spirit. He had in his mind, I presume, such a body as the Lord died with, changed by the interpenetrating of the creative indwelling will, to a heavenly body, the body with which he rose. A body like the Lord's is, I imagine, necessary to bring us into true and perfect contact with the creation, of which there must be multitudinous phases whereof we cannot now be even aware. The way in which both good and indifferent people alike lay the blame on their bodies, and look to death rather than God-aided struggle to set them at liberty, appears to me low and cowardly: it is the master fleeing from the slave, despising at once and fearing him. We must hold the supremacy over our bodies, but we must not despise body; it is a divine thing. Body and soul are in the image of God; and the lord of life was last seen in the glorified body of his death. I believe that he still wears that body. But we shall do better without these bodies that suffer and grow old--which may indeed, as some think, be but the outer cases, the husks of our real bodies. Endlessly helpful as they have been to us, and that, in a measure incalculable, through their very subjection to vanity, we are yet surely not in altogether and only helpful company, so long as the houses wherein we live have so many spots and stains in them which friendly death, it may be, can alone wash out--so many weather-eaten and self-engendered sores which the builder's hand, pulling down and rebuilding of fresh and nobler material, alone can banish. When the sons, then, are free, when their bodies are redeemed, they will lift up with them the lower creation into their liberty. St Paul seems to believe that perfection in their kind awaits also the humbler inhabitants of our world, its advent to follow immediately on the manifestation of the sons of God: for our sakes and their own they have been made subject to vanity; for our sakes and their own they shall be restored and glorified, that is, raised higher with us. Has the question no interest for you? It would have much, had you now what you must one day have--a heart big enough to love any life God has thought fit to create. Had the Lord cared no more for what of his father's was lower than himself, than you do for what of your father's is lower than you, you would not now be looking for any sort of redemption. I have omitted in my quotations the word _adoption_ used in both English versions: it is no translation of the Greek word for which it stands. It is used by St Paul as meaning the same thing with the phrase, 'the redemption of the body'--a fact to bring the interpretation given it at once into question. Falser translation, if we look at the importance of the thing signified, and its utter loss in the word used to represent it, not to mention the substitution for that of the apostle, of an idea not only untrue but actively mischievous, was never made. The thing St Paul means in the word he uses, has simply nothing to do with adoption--nothing whatever. In the beginning of the fourth chapter of his epistle to the Galatians, he makes perfectly clear what he intends by it. His unusual word means the father's recognition, when he comes of age, of the child's relation to him, by giving him his fitting place of dignity in the house; and here the deliverance of the body is the act of this recognition by the great Father, completing and crowning and declaring the freedom of the man, the perfecting of the last lingering remnant of his deliverance. St Paul's word, I repeat, has nothing to do with _adoption_; it means the manifestation of the grown-up sons of God; the showing of those as sons, who have always been his children; the bringing of them out before the universe in such suitable attire and with such fit attendance, that to look at them is to see what they are, the sons of the house--such to whom their elder brother applied the words: 'I said ye are Gods.' If then the sons groan within themselves, looking to be lifted up, and the other inhabitants of the same world groan with them and cry, shall they not also be lifted up? Have they not also a faithful creator? He must be a selfish man indeed who does not desire that it should be so. It appears then, that, in the expectation of the apostle, the new heavens and the new earth in which dwell the sons of God, are to be inhabited by blessed animals also--inferior, but risen--and I think, yet to rise in continuous development. Here let me revert a moment, and say a little more clearly and strongly a thing I have already said:-- When the apostle speaks of the whole creation, is it possible he should have dismissed the animals from his thoughts, to regard the trees and flowers bearing their part in the groaning and travailing of the sore burdened world? Or could he, animals and trees and flowers forgotten, have intended by the creation that groaned and travailed, only the bulk of the earth, its mountains and valleys, plains and seas and rivers, its agglomeration of hard and soft, of hot and cold, of moist and dry? If he could, then the portion that least can be supposed to feel or know, is regarded by the apostle of love as immeasurably more important than the portion that loves and moans and cries. Nor is this all; for thereupon he attributes the suffering-faculty of the excluded, far more sentient portion at least, to the altogether inferior and less sentient, and upon the ground of that faculty builds the vision of its redemption! If it could be so, then how should the seeming apostle's affected rhapsody of hope be to us other than a mere puff-ball of falsest rhetoric, a special-pleading for nothing, as degrading to art as objectless in nature? Much would I like to know clearly what animals the apostle saw on his travels, or around his home when he had one--their conditions, and their relations to their superiors. Anyhow they were often suffering creatures; and Paul was a man growing hourly in likeness to his maker and theirs, therefore overflowing with sympathy. Perhaps as he wrote, there passed through his mind a throb of pity for the beasts he had to kill at Ephesus. If the Lord said very little about animals, could he have done more for them than tell men that his father cared for them? He has thereby wakened and is wakening in the hearts of men a seed his father planted. It grows but slowly, yet has already borne a little precious fruit. His loving friend St Francis has helped him, and many others have tried, and are now trying to help him: whoever sows the seed of that seed the Father planted is helping the Son. Our behaviour to the animals, our words concerning them, are seed, either good or bad, in the hearts of our children. No one can tell to what the animals might not grow, even here on the old earth under the old heaven, if they were but dealt with according to their true position in regard to us. They are, in sense very real and divine, our kindred. If I call them our poor relations, it is to suggest that poor relations are often ill used. Relatives, poor or rich, may be such ill behaved, self-assertive, disagreeable persons, that we cannot treat them as we gladly would; but our endeavour should be to develop every true relation. He who is prejudiced against a relative because he is poor, is himself an ill-bred relative, and to be ill-bred is an excluding fault with the court of the high countries. There, poverty is welcome, vulgarity inadmissible. Those who love certain animals selfishly, pampering them, as so many mothers do their children with worse results, that they may be loved of them in return, betray them to their enemies. They are not lovers of animals, but only of favourites, and do their part to make the rest of the world dislike animals. Theirs are the dogs that inhospitably growl and bark and snap, moving the indifferent to dislike, and confirming the unfriendly in their antagonism. Any dog-parliament, met in the interests of their kind, would condemn such dogs to be discreetly bitten, and their mistresses to be avoided. And certainly, if animals are intended to live and grow, she is the enemy of any individual animal, who stunts his moral and intellectual development by unwise indulgence. Of whatever nature be the heaven of the animals, that animal is not in the fair way to enter it. The education of the lower lies at the door of the higher, and in true education is truest kindness. But what shall I say of such as for any kind of end subject animals to torture? I dare hardly trust myself to the expression of my judgment of their conduct in this regard. 'We are investigators; we are not doing it for our own sakes, but for the sake of others, our fellow-men.' The higher your motive for it, the greater is the blame of your unrighteousness. Must we congratulate you on such a love for your fellows as inspires you to wrong the weaker than they, those that are without helper against you? Shall we count the man worthy who, for the sake of his friend, robbed another man too feeble to protect himself, and too poor to punish his assailant? For the sake of your children, would you waylay a beggar? No real good can grow in the soil of injustice. I cannot help suspecting, however, that the desire to know has a greater share in the enormity than the desire to help. Alas for the science that will sacrifice the law of righteousness but to behold a law of sequence! The tree of knowledge will never prove to man the tree of life. There is no law says, Thou shalt know; a thousand laws cry out, Thou shalt do right. These men are a law unto themselves--and what a law! It is the old story: the greed of knowing casts out righteousness, and mercy, and faith. Whatever believed a benefit may or may not thus be wrought for higher creatures, the injustice to the lower is nowise affected. Justice has no respect of persons, but they are surely the weaker that stand more in need of justice! Labour is a law of the universe, and is not an evil. Death is a law of this world at least, and is not an evil. Torture is the law of no world but the hell of human invention. Labour and death are for the best good of those that labour and die; they are laws of life. Torture is doubtless over-ruled for the good of the tortured, but it will one day burn a very hell in the hearts of the torturers. Torture can be inflicted only by the superior. The divine idea of a superior, is one who requires duty, and protects, helps, delivers: our relation to the animals is that of their superiors in the family, who require labour, it may be, but are just, helpful, protective. Can they know anything of the Father who neither love nor rule their inferiors, but use them as a child his insensate toys, pulling them to pieces to know what is inside them? Such men, so-called of science--let them have the dignity to the fullness of its worth--lust to know as if a man's life lay in knowing, as if it were a vile thing to be ignorant--so vile that, for the sake of his secret hoard of facts, they do right in breaking with torture into the house of the innocent! Surely they shall not thus find the way of understanding! Surely there is a maniac thirst for knowledge, as a maniac thirst for wine or for blood! He who loves knowledge the most genuinely, will with the most patience wait for it until it can be had righteously. Need I argue the injustice? Can a sentient creature come forth without rights, without claim to well-being, or to consideration from the other creatures whom they find, equally without action of their own, present in space? If one answer, 'For aught I know, it may be so,'--Where then are thy own rights? I ask. If another have none, thine must lie in thy superior power; and will there not one day come a stronger than thou? Mayst thou not one day be in Naboth's place, with an Ahab getting up to go into thy vineyard to possess it? The rich man may come prowling after thy little ewe lamb, and what wilt thou have to say? He may be the stronger, and thou the weaker! That the rights of the animals are so much less than ours, does not surely argue them the less rights! They have little, and we have much; ought they therefore to have less and we more? Must we not rather be the more honourably anxious that they have their little to the full. Every gain of injustice is a loss to the world; for life consists neither in length of days nor in ease of body. Greed of life and wrong done to secure it, will never work anything but direst loss. As to knowledge, let justice guide thy search and thou wilt know the sooner. Do the will of God, and thou shalt know God, and he will open thine eyes to look into the very heart of knowledge. Force thy violent way, and gain knowledge, to miss truth. Thou mayest wound the heart of God, but thou canst not rend it asunder to find the Truth that sits there enthroned. What man would he be who accepted the offer to be healed and kept alive by means which necessitated the torture of certain animals? Would he feel himself a gentleman--walking the earth with the sense that his life and conscious well-being were informed and upheld by the agonies of other lives? 'I hope, sir, your health is better than it has been?' 'Thank you, I am wonderfully restored--have entered in truth upon a fresh lease of life. My organism has been nourished with the agonies of several dogs, and the pangs of a multitude of rabbits and guinea-pigs, and I am aware of a marvellous change for the better. They gave me their lives, and I gave them in return worse pains than mine. The bargain has proved a quite satisfactory one! True, their lives were theirs, not mine; but then their sufferings were theirs, not mine! They could not defend themselves; they had not a word to say, so reasonable was the exchange. Poor fools! they were neither so wise, nor so strong, nor such lovers of comfort as I! If they could not take care of themselves, that was their look-out, not mine! Every animal for himself!' There was a certain patriotic priest who thought it better to put a just man to death than that a whole nation should perish. Precious salvation that might be wrought by injustice! But then the just man taught that the rich man and the beggar must one day change places. 'To set the life of a dog against the life of a human being!' No, but the torture of a dog against the prolonged life of a being capable of torturing him. Priceless gain, the lengthening of such a life, to the man and his friends and his country! That the animals do not suffer so much as we should under like inflictions, I hope true, and think true. But is toothache nothing, because there are yet worse pains for head and face? Not a few who now regard themselves as benefactors of mankind, will one day be looked upon with a disapprobation which no argument will now convince them they deserve. But yet another day is coming, when they will themselves right sorrowfully pour out disapprobation upon their own deeds; for they are not stones but men, and must repent. Let them, in the interests of humanity, give their own entrails to the knife, their own silver cord to be laid bare, their own golden bowl to be watched throbbing, and I will worship at their feet. But shall I admire their discoveries at the expense of the stranger--nay, no stranger--the poor brother within their gates? Your conscience does not trouble you? Take heed that the light that is in you be not darkness. Whatever judgment mean, will it suffice you in that hour to say, 'My burning desire to know how life wrought in him, drove me through the gates and bars of his living house'? I doubt if you will add, in your heart any more than with your tongue, 'and I did well.' To those who expect a world to come, I say then, Let us take heed how we carry ourselves to the creation which is to occupy with us the world to come. To those whose hearts are sore for that creation, I say, The Lord is mindful of his own, and will save both man and beast. THE END. 
11627	----	Team THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS, VOLUME II (of 10) HOOKER TO SOUTH COMPILED BY GRENVILLE KLEISER Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in Public," Etc. With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other Theologians INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D. Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University IN TEN VOLUMES HOOKER THE ACTIVITY OF FAITH; OR, ABRAHAM'S IMITATORS BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Thomas Hooker, graduate and fellow of Cambridge, England, and practically founder of Connecticut, was born in 1586. He was dedicated to the ministry, and began his activities in 1620 by taking a small parish in Surrey. He did not, however, attract much notice for his powerful advocacy of reformed doctrine, until 1629, when he was cited to appear before Laud, the Bishop of London, whose threats induced him to leave England for Holland, whence he sailed with John Cotton, in 1633, for New England, and settled in Newtown, now Cambridge, Mass. Chiefly in consequence of disagreements between his own and Cotton's congregation he, with a large following, migrated in 1636 to the Connecticut Valley, where the little band made their center at Hartford. Hooker was the inspirer if not the author of the Fundamental Laws and was of wide political as well as religious influence in organizing "The United Colonies of New England" in 1643--the first effort after federal government made on this continent. He was an active preacher and prolific writer up to his death in 1647. HOOKER 1586-1647 THE ACTIVITY OF FAITH; OR, ABRAHAM'S IMITATORS _And the father of circumcision to them who are not of circumcision only, but who also walk in the steps of that faith of our father Abraham, which he had, being yet uncircumcized_.--Romans iv., 12. I proceed now to show who those are, that may, and do indeed, receive benefit as Abraham did. The text saith, "They that walk in the steps of that faith of Abraham:" that man that not only enjoyeth the privileges of the Church, but yieldeth the obedience of faith, according to the Word of God revealed, and walketh in obedience, _that_ man alone shall be blest with faithful Abraham. Two points may be here raised, but I shall hardly handle them both; therefore I will pass over the first only with a touch, and that lieth closely couched in the text. That faith causeth fruitfulness in the hearts and lives of those in whom it is. Mark what I say: a faithful man is a fruitful man; faith enableth a man to be doing. Ask the question, by what power was it whereby Abraham was enabled to yield obedience to the Lord? The text answereth you, "They that walk in the footsteps" not of Abraham, but "in the footsteps of the faith of Abraham." A man would have thought the text should have run thus: They that walk in the footsteps of Abraham. That is true, too, but the apostle had another end; therefore he saith, "They that walk in the footsteps of the faith of Abraham," implying that it was the grace of faith that God bestowed on Abraham, that quickened and enabled him to perform every duty that God required of him, and called him to the performance of. So that I say, the question being, whence came it that Abraham was so fruitful a Christian, what enabled him to do and to suffer what he did? surely it was faith that was the cause that produced such effects, that helped him to perform such actions. The point then you see is evident, faith it is that causeth fruit. Hence it is, that of almost all the actions that a Christian hath to do, faith is still said to be the worker. If a man pray as he should, it is "the prayer of faith." If a man obey as he should, it is the obedience of faith. If a man war in the Church militant, it is "the fight of faith." If a man live as a Christian and holy man, he "liveth by faith." Nay, shall I say yet more, if he died as he ought, "he dieth by faith." "These all died in faith." What is that? The power of faith that directed and ordered them in the cause of their death, furnished them with grounds and principles of assurance of the love of God, made them carry themselves patiently in death. I can say no more, but with the apostle, "Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith." Why doth not the apostle say, Examine whether faith be in you, but "whether ye be in the faith"? His meaning is, that as a man is said to be in drink, or to be in love, or to be in passion, that is, under the command of drink, or love, or passion; so the whole man must be under the command of faith (as you shall see more afterward). If he prays, faith must indite his prayer; if he obey, faith must work; if he live, it is faith that must quicken him; and if he die, it is faith that must order him in death. And wheresoever faith is, it will do wonders in the soul of that man where it is; it can not be idle; it will have footsteps, it sets the whole man on work; it moveth feet, and hands, and eyes, and all parts of the body. Mark how the apostle disputeth: "We having the same spirit of faith, according as it is written, I believed, and therefore have I spoken, we also believe, and therefore speak." The faith of the apostle, which he had in his heart, set his tongue agoing. If a man have faith within, it will break forth at his mouth. This shall suffice for the proof of the point; I thought to have prest it further, but if I should, I see the time would prevent me. The use, therefore, in a word, is this: if this be so, then it falleth foul, and is a heavy bill of indictment against many that live in the bosom of the Church. Go thy ways home, and read but this text, and consider seriously but this one thing in it: That whosoever is the son of Abraham, hath faith, and whosoever hath faith is a walker, is a marker; by the footsteps of faith you may see where faith hath been. Will not this, then, I say, fall marvelous heavy upon many souls that live in the bosom of the Church, who are confident, and put it out of all question, that they are true believers, and make no doubt but what they have faith? But look to it, wheresoever faith is, it is fruitful. If thou art fruitless, say what thou wilt, thou hast no faith at all. Alas, these idle drones, these idle Christians, the Church is too full of them; Men are continually hearing, and yet remain fruitless and unprofitable; whereas if there were more faith in the world, we should have more work done in the world; faith would set feet, and hands, and eyes, and all on work. Men go under the name of professors, but alas! they are but pictures; they stir not a whit; mark, where you found them in the beginning of the year, there you shall find them in the end of the year, as profane, as worldly, as loose in their conversations, as formal in duty as ever. And is this faith? Oh! faith would work other matters, and provoke a soul to other passages than these. But you will say, may not a man have faith, and not that fruit you speak of? May not a man have a good heart to Godward, altho he can not find that ability in matter of fruitfulness? My brethren, be not deceived; such an opinion is a mere delusion of Satan; wherever faith is it bringeth Christ into the soul; mark that, "Whosoever believeth, Christ dwelleth in his heart by faith. And if Christ be in you," saith the apostle, "the body is dead, because of sin, but the spirit is life, because of righteousness." If Christ be in you, that is, whosoever believeth in the Lord Jesus, Christ dwells in such a man by faith; now if Christ be in the soul, the body can not be dead; but a man is alive, and quick, and active to holy duties, ready, and willing, and cheerful in the performance of whatsoever God requireth. Christ is not a dear Savior, nor the Spirit a dead Spirit: the second Adam is made a quickening spirit. And wherever the Spirit is, it works effects suitable to itself. The Spirit is a spirit of purity, a spirit of zeal, and where it is it maketh pure and zealous. When a man will say he hath faith, and in the mean time can be content to be idle and unfruitful in the work of the Lord, can be content to be a dead Christian, let him know that his case is marvelously fearful: for if faith were in him indeed it would appear; ye can not keep your good hearts to yourselves; wherever fire is it will burn, and wherever faith is it can not be kept secret. The heart will be enlarged, the soul quickened, and there will be a change in the whole life and conversation, if ever faith takes place in a man. I will say no more of this, but proceed to the second point arising out of the affirmative part. You will say, what fruit is it then? Or how shall a man know what is the true fruit of faith, indeed, whereby he may discern his own estate? I answer, the text will tell you: "He that walketh in the footsteps of that faith of Abraham." By footsteps are meant the works the actions, the holy endeavors of Abraham; and where those footsteps are there is the faith of Abraham. So that the point of instruction hence is thus much (which indeed is the main drift of the apostle). That, Every faithful man may, yea doth, imitate the actions of faithful Abraham. Mark what I say; I say again, this is to be the son of Abraham, not because we are begotten of him by natural generation, for so the Jews are the sons of Abraham; but Abraham is our father because he is the pattern, for the proceeding of our faith. "Thy father was an Amorite," saith the Scripture: that is, thou followest the steps of the Amorites in thy conversation. So is Abraham called the "father of the faithful," because he is the copy of their course, whom they must follow in those services that God calleth for. So the point is clear, every faithful man may, yea doth, and must imitate the actions of faithful Abraham. It is Christ's own plea, and He presseth it as an undeniable truth upon the hearts of the Scribes and Pharisees, that bragged very highly of their privileges and prerogatives, and said, "Abraham is our father." "No (saith Christ), if ye were Abraham's children ye would do the works of Abraham." To be like Abraham in constitution, to be one of his blood, is not that which makes a man a son of Abraham, but to be like him in holiness of affection, to have a heart framed and a life disposed answerably to his. The apostle in like manner presseth this point when he would provoke the Hebrews, to whom he wrote, to follow the examples of the saints: "Whose faith (says he) follow, considering the end of their conversation." So the apostle Peter presseth the example of Sarah upon all good women: "Whose daughter ye are (saith he) as long: as ye do well." For the opening of the point, and that ye may more clearly understand it, a question here would be resolved, what were "the footsteps of the faith of Abraham"? which way went he? This is a question, I say, worthy the scanning, and therefore (leaving the further confirmation of the point, as already evident enough) I will come to it that you may know what to settle your hearts upon. I answer, therefore, there are six footsteps of the faith of Abraham, which are the main things wherein every faithful man must do as Abraham did, in the work of faith--I mean in his ordinary course; for if there be any thing extraordinary no man is bound to imitate him therein; but in the works of faith, I say, which belongeth to all men, every man must imitate Abraham in these six steps, and then he is in the next door to happiness, the very next neighbor, as I say, to heaven. The first advance which Abraham made in the ways of grace and happiness, you shall observe to be a yielding to the call of God. Mark what God said to Abraham: "Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house, unto a land that I will show thee; and Abraham departed," saith the text, "as the Lord had spoken unto him." Even when he was an idolater, he is content to lay aside all and let the command of God bear the sway; neither friends, nor kindred, nor gods can keep him back, but he presently stoopeth to the call of God. So it is, my brethren, with every faithful man. This is his first step: he is content to be under the rule and power of God's command. Let the Lord call for him, require any service of him, his soul presently yieldeth, and is content to be framed and fashioned to God's call, and returneth an obedient answer thereto; he is content to come out of his sins, and out of himself, and to receive the impressions of the Spirit. This is that which God requireth, not only of Abraham, but of all believers: "Whosoever will be my disciple," saith Christ, "must forsake father, and mother, and children, and houses, and lands"; yea, and he must "deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me." This is the first step in Christianity, to lay down our own honors, to trample upon our own respects, to submit our necks to the block, as it were, and whatever God commands, to be content that His good pleasure should take place with us. Then Abraham, as doth every faithful soul, set forward, in this wise: He showed that whenever faith cometh powerfully into the heart, the soul is not content barely to yield to the command of God, but it breatheth after His mercy, longeth for His grace, prizeth Christ and salvation above all things in the world, is satisfied and contented with nothing but with the Lord Christ, and altho it partake of many things below, and enjoy abundance of outward comforts, yet it is not quieted till it rest and pitch itself upon the Lord, and find and feel that evidence and assurance of His love, which He hath promised unto and will bestow on those who love Him. As for all things here below, he hath but a slight, and mean, and base esteem of them. This you shall see apparent in Abraham. "Fear not, Abraham (saith God), I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward." What could a man desire more? One would think that the Lord makes a, promise here large enough to Abraham, "I will be thy buckler, and exceeding great reward." Is not Abraham contented with this? No; mark how he pleadeth with God: "Lord God (saith he), what wilt thou give me, seeing I go childless?" His eye is upon the promise that God had made to him of a son, of whom the Savior of the world should come. "O Lord, what wilt thou give me?" as if he had said, What wilt Thou do for me? alas! nothing will do my soul good unless I have a son, and in him a Savior. What will become of me so long as I go childless, and so Saviorless, as I may so speak? You see how Abraham's mouth was out of taste with all other things, how he could relish nothing, enjoy nothing in comparison of the promise, tho he had otherwise what he would, or could desire. Thus must it be with every faithful man. That soul never had, nor never shall have Christ, that doth not prize Him above all things in the world. The next step of Abraham's faith was this, he casteth himself and flingeth his soul, as I may say, upon the all-sufficient power and mercy of God for the attainment of what he desireth; he rolleth and tumbleth himself, as it were, upon the all-sufficiency of God. This you shall find in Rom. iv. 18, where the apostle, speaks of Abraham, who "against hope, believed in hope"; that is, when there was no hope in the world, yet he believed in God, even above hope, and so made it possible. It was an object of his hope, that it might be in regard of God, howsoever there was no possibility in regard of man. So the text saith, "he considered not his own body now dead, when he was about a hundred years old, neither yet the deadness of Sarah's womb, but was strong in faith." He cast himself wholly upon the precious promise and mercy of God. But he took another step in true justifying faith. He proved to us the believer is informed touching the excellency of the Lord Jesus, and that fulness that is to be had in Him, tho he can not find the sweetness of His mercy, tho he can not or dare not apprehend and apply it to himself, tho he find nothing in himself, yet he is still resolved to rest upon the Lord, and to stay himself on the God of his salvation, and to wait for His mercy till he find Him gracious to his poor soul. Excellent and famous is the example of the woman of Canaan. When Christ, as it were, beat her off, and took up arms against her, was not pleased to reveal Himself graciously to her for the present, "I am not sent (saith He) but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel; and it is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to the dogs"; mark how she replied, "Truth, Lord, I confess all that; yet notwithstanding, the dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from their master's table." Oh, the excellency, and strength, and work of her faith! She comes to Christ for mercy, He repelleth her, reproacheth her, tells her she is a dog; she confesseth her baseness, is not discouraged for all that, but still resteth upon the goodness and mercy of Christ, and is mightily resolved to have mercy whatsoever befalleth her. Truth, Lord, I confess I am as bad as Thou canst term me, yet I confess, too, that there is no comfort but from Thee, and tho I am a dog, yet I would have crumbs. Still she laboreth to catch after mercy, and to lean and to bear herself upon the favor of Christ for the bestowing thereof upon her. So it must be with every faithful Christian in this particular; he must roll himself upon the power, and faithfulness, and truth of God, and wait for His mercy (I will join them both together for brevity's sake, tho the latter be a fourth step and degree of faith); I say he must not only depend upon God, but he must wait upon the Holy One of Israel. But a further step of Abraham's faith appeared in this: he counted nothing too dear for the Lord; he was content to break through all impediments, to pass through all difficulties, whatsoever God would have, He had of him. This is the next step that Abraham went; and this you shall find when God put him upon trial. The text saith there "that God did tempt Abraham," did try what He would do for Him, and He bade him, "Go, take thy son, thine only son, Isaac, whom thou lovest, and slay him"; and straight Abraham went and laid his son upon an altar, and took a knife, to cut the throat of his son--so that Abraham did not spare his son Isaac, he did not spare for any cost, he did not dodge with God in this case; if God would have anything, He should have it, whatsoever it were, tho it were his own life, for no question Isaac was dearer to him than his own life. And this was not his case alone, but the faithful people of God have ever walked the same course. The apostle Paul was of the same spirit; "I know not (saith he) the things that shall befall me, save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city, saying that bonds and afflictions abide me: but none of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God." O blest spirit! here is the work of faith. Alas! when we come to part with anything for the cause of God, how hardly comes it from us! "But I (saith he) pass not, no, nor is my life dear unto me." Here, I say, is the work of faith, indeed, when a man is content to do anything for God, and to say if imprisonment, loss of estate, liberty, life, come, I pass not, it moveth me nothing, so I may finish my course with comfort. Hence it was that the saints of God in those primitive times "took joyfully the spoiling of their goods." Methinks I see the saints there reaching after Christ with the arms of faith, and how, when anything lay in their way, they were content to lose all, to part with all, to have Christ. Therefore saith Saint Paul, "I am ready not to be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus." Mark, rather than he would leave his Savior, he would leave his life, and tho men would have hindered him, yet was resolved to have Christ, howsoever, tho he lost his life for Him. Oh, let me have my Savior, and take my life! The last step of all is this: when the soul is thus resolved not to dodge with God, but to part with anything for Him, then in the last place there followeth a readiness of heart to address man's self to the performance of whatsoever duty God requireth at his hands; I say this is the last step, when, without consulting with flesh and blood, without hammering upon it, as it were, without awkwardness of heart, there followeth a readiness to obey God; the soul is at hand. When Abraham was called, "Behold (saith he) here I am." And so Samuel, "Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth," and so Ananias. "Behold, I am here, Lord." The faithful soul is not to seek, as an evil servant that is gone a roving after his companions, that is out of the way when his master would use him, but is like a trusty servant that waiteth upon his master, and is ever at hand to do His pleasure. So you shall see it was with Abraham, when the Lord commanded him to go out of his country, "he obeyed, and went out, not knowing whither he went"; he went cheerfully and readily, tho he knew not whither; as who would say, if the Lord calls, I will not question, if He command I will perform, whatever it be. So it must be with every faithful soul--we must blind the eye of carnal reason, resolve to obey, tho heaven and earth seem to meet together in a contradiction, care not what man or what devil saith in this case, but what God will have done, do it; this is the courage and obedience of faith. See how Saint Paul, in the place before named, flung his ancient friends from him, when they came to cross him in the work of his ministry. They all came about him, and because they thought they should see his face no more, they besought him not to go up to Jerusalem. Then Paul answered, "What, mean ye to weep, and to break my heart?" as who should say, It is a grief and a vexation to my soul, that ye would burden me, that I can not go with readiness to perform the service that God requireth at my hands. The like Christian courage was in Luther when his friends dissuaded him to go to Worms: "If all the tiles in 'Worms' were so many devils (said he) yet would I go thither in the name of my Lord Jesus." This is the last step. Now gather up a little what I have delivered. He that is resolved to stoop to the call of God; to prize the promises, and breathe after them; to rest upon the Lord, and to wait His time for bestowing mercy upon him; to break through all impediments and difficulties, and to count nothing too dear for God; to be content to perform ready and cheerful obedience; he that walketh thus, and treadeth in these steps, peace be upon him; heaven is hard by; he is as sure of salvation as the angels are; it is as certain as the Lord liveth that he shall be saved with faithful Abraham, for he walketh in the steps of Abraham, and therefore he is sure to be where he is. The case, you see, is clear, and the point evident, that every faithful man may, and must, imitate faithful Abraham. It may be here imagined, that we draw men up to too high a pitch; and certainly, if this be the sense of the words, and the meaning of the Holy Ghost in this place, what will become of many that live in the bosom of the Church? Will you therefore see the point confirmed by reason? The ground of this doctrine stands thus: every faithful man hath the same faith, for nature and for work, that Abraham had; therefore, look what nature his faith was of, and what power it had; of the same nature and power every true believer's faith is. Briefly thus: the promises of God are the ground upon which all true faith resteth; the Spirit of God it is that worketh this faith in all believers; the power of the Spirit is that that putteth forth itself in the hearts and lives of all the faithful; gather these together: if all true believers have the same promises for the ground of their faith; have one and the same spirit to work it; have' one and the same power to draw out the abilities of faith, then certainly they can not but have the very self-same actions, having the very self-same ground of their actions. Every particular believer (as the apostle Peter saith) "hath obtained the like precious faith." Mark, that there is a great deal of copper faith in the world--much counterfeit believing; but the saints do all partake of "the like precious faith." As when a man hath but a sixpence in silver, or a crown in gold, those small pieces, for the nature, are as good as the greatest of the same metal; so it is with the faith of God's elect. And look as it is in grafting; if there be many scions of the same kind grafted into one stock, they all partake alike of the virtue of the stock; just so it is here. The Lord Jesus Christ is the stock, as it were, into which all the faithful are grafted by the spirit of God and faith; therefore, whatsoever fruit one beareth, another beareth also: howsoever, there may be degrees of works, yet they are of the same nature. As a little apple is the same in taste with a great one of the same tree, even so every faithful man hath the same holiness of heart and life, because he hath the same principle of holiness. The fruit indeed that one Christian bringeth may be but poor and small in comparison with others, yet it is the same in kind; the course of his life is not with so much power and fulness of grace, it may be, as another's, yet there is the same true grace, and the same practise, in the kind of it, for truth, however in degree it differ. Let us now come to see what benefit we may make to ourselves of this point, thus proved and confirmed; and, certainly, the use of this doctrine is of great consequence. In the first place, it is a just ground of examination. For if it be true (as can not be denied, the reasons being so strong, and arguments so plain) that every son of Abraham followeth the steps of Abraham, then here you may clearly perceive who it is that hath saving faith indeed, who they be that are true saints and the sons of Abraham. By the light of this truth, by the rule of this doctrine, if you would square your courses, and look into your conversations, you can not but discern whether you have faith or no. That man whose faith showeth itself and putteth itself forth in its several conditions, agreeably to, the faith of Abraham, that man that followeth the footsteps of the faith of Abraham, let him be esteemed a faithful man, let him be reckoned for a true believer. You that are gentlemen and tradesmen, I appeal to your souls whether the Lord and His cause is not the loser this way? Doth not prayer pay for it? Doth not the Word pay for it? Are not the ordinances always losers when anything of your own cometh in competition? Is it not evident, then, that you are not under the command of the Word? How do you tremble at the wrath and threatenings of a mortal man? and yet, when you hear the Lord thunder judgments out of His Word, who is humbled? When He calls for fasting, and weeping, and mourning, who regards it? Abraham, my brethren, did not thus: these were none of his steps; no, no: he went a hundred miles off this course. The Lord no sooner said to him, "Forsake thy country and thy kindred, and thy father's house," but he forsook all, neither friend nor father prevailed to detain him from obedience, but he stooped willingly to God's command. There are a sort that come short of being the sons of Abraham, and they are the close-hearted hypocrites. These are a generation that are of a more refined kind than the last, but howsoever they carry the matter very covertly, yea, and are exceeding cunning; yet the truth will make them known. Many a hypocrite may come thus far, to be content to part with anything, and outwardly to suffer for the cause of God, to part with divers pleasures and lusts, and to perform many holy services. But here is the difference between Abraham and these men: Abraham forsook his goods and all, but your close-hearted hypocrites have always some god or other that they do homage to--their ease, or their wealth, or some secret lust, something or other they have set up as an idol within them--and so long as they may have and enjoy that, they will part with anything else. But thou must know that, if thou be one of Abraham's children, thou must come away from thy gods--the god of pride, of self-love, of vainglory--and leave worshiping of these, and be content to be alone by God and His truth. This shall suffice for the first use; I can not proceed further in the pressing thereof, because I would shut up all with the time. The second use is a word of instruction, and it shall be but a word or two; that if all the saints of God must walk in the same way of life and salvation that Abraham did, then there is no byway to bring a man to happiness. Look, what way Abraham went, you must go; there are no more ways: the same course that he took must be a copy for you to follow, a rule, as it were, for you to square your whole conversation by. There is no way but one to come to life and happiness. I speak it the rather to dash that idle device of many carnal men, that think the Lord hath a new invention to bring them to life, and that they need not go the ordinary way, but God hath made a shorter cut for them. Great men and gentlemen think God will spare them. What, must they be humbled, and fast, and pray! That is for poor men, and mean men. Their places and estates will not suffer it; therefore surely God hath given a dispensation to them. And the poor men, they think it is for gentlemen that have more leisure and time: alas! they live by their labor, and they must take pains for what they have, and therefore they can not do what is required. But be not deceived; if there be any way beside that which Abraham went, then will I deny myself. But the case is clear, the Lord saith it, the Word saith it; the same way, the same footsteps that Abraham took, we must take, if ever we will come where Abraham is. You must not balk in this kind, whoever you are; God respecteth no man's person. If you would arrive at the same haven, you must sail through the same sea. You must walk the same way of grace, if you would come to the same kingdom of glory. It is a conceit that harboreth in the hearts of many men, nay, of most men in general, especially your great wise men and your great rich men, that have better places and estates in the world than ordinary. What, think they, may not a man be saved without all this ado? What needs all this? Is there not another way besides this? Surely, my brethren, you must teach our Savior Christ and the apostle Paul another way. I am sure they never knew another; and he that dreameth of another way must be content to go beside. There is no such matter as the devil would persuade you; it is but his delusion to keep you under infidelity, and so shut you up to destruction under false and vain conceits. The truth is, here is the way, and the only way, and you must walk here if ever you come to life and happiness. Therefore, be not deceived, suffer not your eyes to be blinded; but know, what Abraham did, you must do the same, if not in action, yet in affection. If God say, forsake all, thou must do it, at least in affection. Thou must still wait upon His power and providence; yield obedience to Him in all things; be content to submit thyself to His will. This is the way you must walk in, if you ever come to heaven. The last use shall be a use of comfort to all the saints and people of God, whose consciences can witness that they have labored to walk in the uprightness of their heart as Abraham did. I have two or three words to speak to these. Be persuaded out of the Word of God, that your course is good, and go on with comfort, and the God of heaven be with you; and be sure of it, that you that walk with Abraham shall be at rest with Abraham; and it shall never repent you of all the pains that you have taken. Haply it may seem painful and tedious to you; yet, what Abigail said to David, let me say to you: "Oh," saith she, "let not my lord do this: when the Lord shall have done to my lord according to all the good that he hath spoken concerning thee, and shall have appointed thee ruler over Israel, this shall be no grief unto thee, nor offense of heart, that thou hast shed blood causeless, or that my lord hath avenged himself." My brethren, let me say to you, you will find trouble and inconveniences and hard measure at the hands of the wicked in this world. Many Nabals and Cains will set themselves against you; but go on, and bear it patiently. Know it is a troublesome way, but a true way; it is grievous but yet good; and the end will be happy. It will never repent you, when the Lord hath performed all the good that He hath spoken concerning you. Oh! to see a man drawing his breath low and short, after he hath spent many hours and days in prayer to the Lord, grappling with his corruptions, and striving to pull down his base lusts, after he hath waited upon the Lord in a constant course of obedience. Take but such a man, and ask him, now his conscience is opened, whether the ways of holiness and sincerity be not irksome to him, whether he be not grieved with himself for undergoing so much needless trouble (as the world thinks it); and his soul will then clear this matter. It is true he hath a tedious course of it, but now his death will be blest. He hath striven for a crown, and now beholds a crown. Now he is beyond the waves. All the contempts, and imprisonments, and outrages of wicked men are now too short to reach him. He is so far from repenting, that he rejoiceth and triumpheth in reflecting back upon all the pains, and care, and labor of love, whereby he hath loved the Lord Jesus, in submitting his heart unto Him. Take me another man, that hath lived here in pomp and jollity, hath had many livings, great preferments, much honor, abundance of pleasure, yet hath been ever careless of God and of His Word, profane in his course, loose in his conversation, and ask him upon his deathbed, how it standeth with him. Oh! woe the time, that ever he spent it as he hath done. Now the soul begins to hate the man, and the very sight of him that hath been, the instrument with it in the committing of sin. Now nothing but gall and wormwood remaineth. Now the sweetness of the adulterer's lust is gone, and nothing but the sting of conscience remaineth. Now the covetous man must part with his goods, and the gall of asps must stick behind. Now the soul sinks within, and the heart is overwhelmed with sorrow. Take but these two men, I say, and judge by their ends, whether it will ever repent you that you have done well, that you have walked in the steps of the faith of Abraham. My brethren, howsoever you have had many miseries, yet the Lord hath many mercies for you. God dealeth with His servants, as a father doth with his son, after he hath sent him on a journey to do some business; and the weather falleth foul, and the way proveth dangerous, and many a storm, and great difficulties are to be gone through. Oh, how the heart of that father pitieth his son! How doth he resolve to requite him, if he ever live to come home again! What preparation doth he make to entertain, and welcome him; and how doth he study to do good unto him! My brethren, so it is here; I beseech you, think of it, you that are the saints and people of God. You must find in your way many troubles and griefs (and we ought to find them), but be not discouraged. The more misery, the greater mercy. God the Father seeth His servants: and if they suffer and endure for a good conscience, as His eye seeth them, so His soul pitieth them. His heart bleeds within Him for them; that is, He hath a tender compassion of them, and He saith within Himself, Well, I will requite them if ever they come into My kingdom; all their patience, and care, and conscience in walking My ways, I will requite; and they shall receive a double reward from Me, even a crown of eternal glory. Think of these things that are not seen; they are eternal. The things that are seen are temporal, and they will deceive us. Let our hearts be carried after the other, and rest in them forever! JEREMY TAYLOR CHRIST'S ADVENT TO JUDGMENT BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Jeremy Taylor, born in Cambridge, England, in 1613, was the son of a barber. By his talents he obtained an entrance into Caius College, where his exceptional progress obtained for him admission to the ministry in his twenty-first year, two years before the canonical age. He was appointed in succession fellow of All Souls, Oxford, through the influence of Laud, chaplain to the King, and rector of Uppingham. During the Commonwealth he was expelled from his living and opened a school in Wales, employing his seclusion in writing his memorable work "The Liberty of Prophesying." At the Restoration, Charles II raised him to the bishopric of Down and Connor (1660), in which post he remained until his death in 1667. His "_Ductor Dubitantium_," dedicated to Charles II, is a work of subtilty and ingenuity; his "Holy Living" and "Holy Dying" (1652), are unique monuments of learning and devotion. His sermons form, however, his most brilliant and most voluminous productions, and fully establish his claims to the first place among the learned, witty, fanciful, ornate and devotional prose writers of his time. JEREMY TAYLOR 1613-1667 CHRIST'S ADVENT TO JUDGMENT _For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad_.--II Cor., v., 10. If we consider the person of the Judge, we first perceive that He is interested in the injury of the crimes He is to sentence: "They shall look on Him whom they have pierced." It was for thy sins that the Judge did suffer such unspeakable pains as were enough to reconcile all the world to God; the sum and spirit of which pains could not be better understood than by the consequence of His own words, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" meaning, that He felt such horrible, pure, unmingled sorrows, that, altho His human nature was personally united to the Godhead, yet at that instant he felt no comfortable emanations by sensible perception from the Divinity, but He was so drenched in sorrow that the Godhead seemed to have forsaken Him. Beyond this, nothing can be added: but then, that thou hast for thy own particular made all this sin in vain and ineffective, that Christ thy Lord and Judge should be tormented for nothing, that thou wouldst not accept felicity and pardon when he purchased them at so dear a price, must needs be an infinite condemnation to such persons. How shalt thou look upon Him that fainted and died for love of thee, and thou didst scorn His miraculous mercies? How shall we dare to behold that holy face that brought salvation to us, and we turned away and fell in love with death, and kissed deformity and sins? And yet in the beholding that face consists much of the glories of eternity. All the pains and passions, the sorrows and the groans, the humility and poverty, the labors and watchings, the prayers and the sermons, the miracles and the prophecies, the whip and the nails, the death and the burial, the shame and the smart, the cross and the grave of Jesus, shall be laid upon thy score, if thou hast refused the mercies and design of all their holy ends and purposes. And if we remember what a calamity that was which broke the Jewish nation in pieces, when Christ came to judge them for their murdering Him who was their King and the Prince of Life, and consider that this was but a dark image of the terrors of the day of judgment, we may then apprehend that there is some strange unspeakable evil that attends them that are guilty of this death, and of so much evil to their Lord. Now it is certain if thou wilt not be saved by His death, you are guilty of His death; if thou wilt not suffer Him to have thee, thou art guilty of destroying Him; and then let it be considered what is to be expected from that Judge before whom you stand as His murderer and betrayer. But this is but half of this consideration. Christ may be crucified again, and upon a new account, put to an open shame. For after that Christ has done all this by the direct actions of His priestly office, of sacrificing himself for us, He hath also done very many things for us which are also the fruits of His first love and prosecutions of our redemption. I will not instance the strange arts of mercy that our Lord uses to bring us to live holy lives; but I consider, that things are so ordered, and so great a value set upon our souls since they are the images of God, and redeemed by the blood of the Holy Lamb, that the salvation of our souls is reckoned as a part of Christ's reward, a part of the glorification of His humanity. Every sinner that repents causes joy to Christ, and the joy is so great that it runs over and wets the fair brows and beauteous looks of cherubim and seraphim, and all the angels have a part of that banquet; then it is that our blest Lord feels the fruits of His holy death; the acceptation of His holy sacrifice, the graciousness of His person, the return of His prayers. For all that Christ did or suffered, and all that He now does as a priest in heaven, is to glorify His Father by bringing souls to God. For this it was that He was born and died, that He descended from heaven to earth, from life to death, from the cross to the grave; this was the purpose of His resurrection and ascension, of the end and design of all the miracles and graces of God manifested to all the world by Him; and now what man is so vile, such a malicious fool, that will refuse to bring joy to his Lord by doing himself the greatest good in the world? They who refuse to do this, are said to crucify the Lord of Life again, and put him to an open shame--that is, they, as much as in them lies, bring Christ from His glorious joys to the labors of His life and the shame of His death; they advance His enemies, and refuse to advance the kingdom of their Lord; they put themselves in that state in which they were when Christ came to die for them; and now that He is in a state that He may rejoice over them (for He hath done all His share towards it), every wicked man takes his head from the blessing, and rather chooses that the devils should rejoice in his destruction, than that his Lord should triumph in his felicity. And now upon the supposition of these premises, we may imagine that it will be an infinite amazement to meet that Lord to be our Judge whose person we have murdered, whose honor we have disparaged, whose purposes we have destroyed, whose joys we have lessened, whose passion we have made ineffectual, and whose love we have trampled under our profane and impious feet. But there is yet a third part of this consideration. As it will be inquired at the day of judgment concerning the dishonors to the person of Christ, so also concerning the profession and institution of Christ, and concerning His poor members; for by these also we make sad reflections upon our Lord. Every man that lives wickedly disgraces the religion and institution of Jesus, he discourages strangers from entering into it, he weakens the hands of them that are in already, and makes that the adversaries speak reproachfully of the name of Christ; but altho it is certain our Lord and Judge will deeply resent all these things, yet there is one thing which He takes more tenderly, and that is, the uncharitableness of men towards His poor. It shall then be upbraided to them by the Judge, that Himself was hungry and they refused to give meat to Him that gave them His body and heart-blood to feed them and quench their thirst; that they denied a robe to cover His nakedness, and yet He would have clothed their souls with the robe of His righteousness, lest their souls should be found naked on the day of the Lord's visitation; and all this unkindness is nothing but that evil men were uncharitable to their brethren, they would not feed the hungry, nor give drink to the thirsty nor clothe the naked, nor relieve their brothers' needs, nor forgive their follies, nor cover their shame, nor turn their eyes from delighting in their affronts and evil accidents; this is it which our Lord will take so tenderly, that His brethren for whom He died, who sucked the paps of His mother, that fed on His body and are nourished with His blood, whom He hath lodged in His heart and entertains in His bosom, the partners of His spirit and co-heirs of His inheritance, that these should be denied relief and suffered to go away ashamed, and unpitied; this our blest Lord will take so ill, that all those who are guilty of this unkindness, have no reason to expect the favor of the Court. To this if we add the almightiness of the Judge, His infinite wisdom and knowledge of all causes, and all persons, and all circumstances, that He is infinitely just, inflexibly angry, and impartial in His sentence, there can be nothing added either to the greatness or the requisites of a terrible and an almighty Judge. For who can resist Him who is almighty? Who can evade His scrutiny that knows all things? Who can hope for pity of Him that is inflexible? Who can think to be exempted when the Judge is righteous and impartial? But in all these annexes of the Great Judge, that which I shall now remark, is that indeed which hath terror in it, and that is, the severity of our Lord. For then is the day of vengeance and recompenses, and no mercy at all shall be showed, but to them that are the sons of mercy; for the other, their portion is such as can be expected from these premises. If we remember the instances of God's severity in this life, in the days of mercy and repentance, in those days when judgment waits upon mercy, and receives laws by the rules and measures of pardon, and that for all the rare streams of loving; kindness issuing out of paradise and refreshing all our fields with a moisture more fruitful than the floods of Nilus, still there are mingled some storms and violences, some fearful instances of the divine justice, we may more readily expect it will be worse, infinitely worse, at that day, when judgment shall ride in triumph, and mercy shall be the accuser of the wicked. But so we read, and are commanded to remember, because they are written for our example, that God destroyed at once five cities of the plain, and all the country, and Sodom and her sisters are set forth for an example, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire. Fearful it was when God destroyed at once twenty-three thousand for fornication, and an exterminating angel in one night killed one hundred and eighty-five thousand of the Assyrians, and the first-born of all the families of Egypt, and for the sin of David in numbering the people, three score and ten thousand of the people died, and God sent ten tribes into captivity and eternal oblivion and indistinction from a common people for their idolatry. Did not God strike Korah and his company with fire from heaven? and the earth opened and swallowed up the congregation of Abiram? And is not evil come upon all the world for one sin of Adam? Did not the anger of God break the nation of the Jews all in pieces with judgments so great, that no nation ever suffered the like, because none ever sinned so? And at once it was done, that God in anger destroyed all the world, and eight persons only escaped the angry baptism of water, and yet this world is the time of mercy; God hath opened here His magazines, and sent His Holy Son as the great channel and fountain of it, too: here He delights in mercy, and in judgment loves to remember it, and it triumphs over all His works, and God contrives instruments and accidents, chances and designs, occasions and opportunities for mercy. If, therefore, now the anger of God makes such terrible eruptions upon the wicked people that delight in sin, how great may we suppose that anger to be, how severe that judgment, how terrible that vengeance, how intolerable those inflictions which God reserves for the full effusion of indignation on the great day of vengeance! We may also guess at it by this: if God upon all single instances, and in the midst of our sins, before they are come to the full, and sometimes in the beginning of an evil habit, be so fierce in His anger, what can we imagine it to be in that day when the wicked are to drink the dregs of that horrid potion, and count over all the particulars of their whole treasure of wrath? "This is the day of wrath, and God shall reveal, or bring forth, His righteous judgments." The expression is taken from Deut. xxxii., 34: "Is not this laid up in store with me, and sealed up among my treasures? I will restore it in the day of vengeance, for the Lord shall judge His people, and repent Himself for His servants." For so did the Lybian lion that was brought up under discipline, and taught to endure blows, and eat the meat of order and regular provision, and to suffer gentle usages and the familiarities of societies; but once He brake out into His own wildness, and killed two Roman boys; but those that forage in the Lybian mountains tread down and devour all that they meet or master; and when they have fasted two days, lay up an anger great as is their appetite, and bring certain death to all that can be overcome. God is pleased to compare himself to a lion; and though in this life He hath confined Himself with promises and gracious emanations of an infinite goodness, and limits himself by conditions and covenants, and suffers Himself to be overcome by prayers, and Himself hath invented ways of atonement and expiation; yet when He is provoked by our unhandsome and unworthy actions, He makes sudden breaches, and tears some of us in pieces, and of others He breaks their bones or affrights their hopes and secular gaieties, and fills their house with mourning and cypress, and groans and death. But when this Lion of the tribe of Judah shall appear upon His own mountain, the mountain of the Lord, in His natural dress of majesty, and that justice shall have her chain and golden fetters taken off, then justice shall strike, and mercy shall hold her hands; she shall strike sore strokes, and pity shall not break the blow; and God shall account with us by minutes, and for words, and for thoughts, and then He shall be severe to mark what is done amiss; and that justice may reign entirely, God shall open the wicked man's treasure, and tell the sums, and weigh grains and scruples. Said Philo upon the place of Deuteronomy before quoted: As there are treasures of good things, and God has crowns and scepters in store for His saints and servants, and coronets for martyrs, and rosaries for virgins, and vials full of prayers, and bottles full of tears, and a register of sighs and penitential groans, so God hath a treasure of wrath and fury, of scourges and scorpions, and then shall be produced the shame of lust, and the malice of envy, and the groans of the opprest, and the persecutions of the saints, and the cares of covetousness, and the troubles of ambition, and the insolencies of traitors, and the violence of rebels, and the rage of anger, and the uneasiness of impatience, and the restlessness of unlawful desires; and by this time the monsters and diseases will be numerous and intolerable, when God's heavy hand shall press the _sanies_ and the intolerableness, the obliquity and the unreasonableness, the amazement and the disorder, the smart and the sorrow, the guilt and the punishment, out from all our sins, and pour them into one chalice, and mingle them with an infinite wrath, and make the wicked drink of all the vengeance, and force it down their unwilling throats with the violence of devils and accurst spirits. We may guess at the severity of the Judge by the lesser strokes of that judgment which He is pleased to send upon sinners in this world, to make them afraid of the horrible pains of doomsday--I mean the torments of an unquiet conscience, the amazement and confusions of some sins and some persons. For I have sometimes seen persons surprised in a base action, and taken in the circumstances of crafty theft and secret injustices, before their excuse was ready. They have changed their color, their speech hath faltered, their tongue stammered, their eyes did wander and fix nowhere, till shame made them sink into their hollow eye-pits to retreat from the images and circumstances of discovery; their wits are lost, their reason useless, the whole order of their soul is decomposed, and they neither see, nor feel, nor think, as they used to do, but they are broken into disorder by a stroke of damnation and a lesser stripe of hell; but then if you come to observe a guilty and a base murderer, a condemned traitor, and see him harassed first by an evil conscience, and then pulled in pieces by the hangman's hooks, or broken upon sorrows and the wheel, we may then guess (as well as we can in this life) what the pains of that day shall be to accurst souls. But those we shall consider afterward in their proper scene; now only we are to estimate the severity of our Judge by the intolerableness of an evil conscience; if guilt will make a man despair--and despair will make a man mad, confounded, and dissolved in all the regions of his senses and more noble faculties, that he shall neither feel, nor hear, nor see anything but specters and illusions, devils and frightful dreams, and hear noises, and shriek fearfully, and look pale and distracted, like a hopeless man from the horrors and confusions of a lost battle, upon which all his hopes did stand--then the wicked must at the day of judgment expect strange things and fearful, and such which now no language can express, and then no patience can endure. Then only it can truly be said that he is inflexible and inexorable. No prayers then can move Him, no groans can cause Him to pity thee; therefore pity thyself in time, that when the Judge comes thou mayest be one of the sons of everlasting mercy, to whom pity belongs as part of thine inheritance, for all else shall without any remorse (except His own) be condemned by the horrible sentence. That all may think themselves concerned in this consideration, let us remember that even the righteous and most innocent shall pass through a severe trial. Many of the ancients explicated this severity by the fire of conflagration, which say they shall purify those souls at the day of judgment, which in this life have built upon the foundation (hay and stubble) works of folly and false opinions, states of imperfection. So St. Augustine's doctrine was: "The great fire at doomsday shall throw some into the portion of the left hand, and others shall be purified and represented on the right." And the same is affirmed by Origen and Lactantius; and St. Hilary thus expostulates: "Since we are to give account for every idle word, shall we long for the day of judgment, wherein we must, every one of us, pass that unwearied fire in which those grievous punishments for expiating the soul from sins must be endured; for to such as have been baptized with the Holy Ghost it remaineth that they be consummated with the fire of judgment." And St. Ambrose adds: "That if any be as Peter or as John, they are baptized with this fire, and he that is purged here had need to be purged there again. Let him also purify us, that every one of us being burned with that flaming sword, not burned up or consumed, we may enter into Paradise, and give thanks unto the Lord who hath brought us into a place of refreshment." This opinion of theirs is, in the main of it, very uncertain; relying upon the sense of some obscure place of Scripture is only apt to represent the great severity of the Judge at that day, and it hath in it this only certainty, that even the most innocent person hath great need of mercy, and he that hath the greatest cause of confidence, altho he runs to no rocks to hide him, yet he runs to the protection of the cross, and hides himself under the shadow of the divine mercies: and he that shall receive the absolution of the blest sentence shall also suffer the terrors of the day, and the fearful circumstances of Christ's coming. The effect of this consideration is this: That if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the wicked and the sinner appear? And if St. Paul, whose conscience accused him not, yet durst not be too confident, because he was not hereby justified, but might be found faulty by the severer judgment of his Lord, how shall we appear, with all our crimes and evil habits round about us? If there be need of much mercy to the servants and friends of the Judge, then His enemies shall not be able to stand upright in judgment. Let us next consider the circumstances of our appearing and his sentence; and first I consider that men at the day of judgment that belong not to the portion of life, shall have three sorts of accusers: 1. Christ Himself, who is their judge; 2. Their own conscience, whom they have injured and blotted with characters of death and foul dishonor; 3. The devil, their enemy, whom they served. Christ shall be their accuser, not only upon the stock of those direct injuries (which I before reckoned) of crucifying the Lord of Life, once and again, etc., but upon the titles of contempt and unworthiness, of unkindness and ingratitude; and the accusation will be nothing else but a plain representation of those artifices and assistances, those bonds and invitations, those constrainings and importunities, which our dear Lord used to us to make it almost impossible to lie in sin, and necessary to be saved. For it will, it must needs be, a fearful exprobration of our unworthiness, when the Judge Himself shall bear witness against us that the wisdom of God Himself was strangely employed in bringing us safely to felicity. I shall draw a short scheme which, altho it must needs be infinitely short, of what God hath done for us, yet it will be enough to shame us. God did not only give His Son for an example, and the Son gave Himself for a price for us, but both gave the Holy Spirit to assist us in mighty graces, for the verifications of faith, and the entertainments of hope, and the increase and perseverance of charity. God gave to us a new nature, He put another principle into us, a third part of a perfective constitution; we have the spirit put into us, to be a part of us, as properly to produce actions of a holy life, as the soul of man in the body does produce the natural. God hath exalted human nature, and made it in the person of Jesus Christ, to sit above the highest seat of angels, and the angels are made ministering spirits, ever since their Lord became our brother. Christ hath by a miraculous sacrament given us His body to eat and His blood to drink; He made ways that we may become all one with Him. He hath given us an easy religion, and hath established our future felicity upon natural and pleasant conditions, and we are to be happy hereafter if we suffer God to make us happy here; and things are so ordered that a man must take more pains to perish than to be happy. God hath found out rare ways to make our prayers acceptable, our weak petitions, the desires of our imperfect souls, to prevail mightily with God, and to lay a holy violence and an undeniable necessity upon Himself; and God will deny us nothing but when we ask of Him to do us ill offices, to give us poisons and dangers, and evil nourishment, and temptations; and He that hath given such mighty power to the prayers of His servants, yet will not be moved by those potent and mighty prayers to do any good man an evil turn, or to grant him one mischief--in that only God can deny us. But in all things else God hath made all the excellent things in heaven and earth to join toward the holy and fortunate effects; for He that appointed an angel to present the prayers of saints, and Christ makes intercession for us, and the Holy Spirit makes intercession for us with groans unutterable, and all the holy men in the world pray for all and for every one, and God hath instructed us with scriptures, and precedents, and collateral and direct assistances to pray, and He encouraged us with divers excellent promises, and parables, and examples, and teaches us what to pray, and how, and gives one promise to public prayer, and another to private prayer, and to both the blessing of being heard. Add to this account that God did heap blessings upon us without order, infinitely, perpetually, and in all instances, when we needed and when we needed not. He heard us when we prayed, giving us all, and giving us more, than we desired. He desired that we should ask, and yet He hath also prevented our desires. He watched for us, and at His own charge sent a whole order of men whose employment is to minister to our souls; and if all this had not been enough, He had given us more also. He promised heaven to our obedience, a province for a dish of water, a kingdom for a prayer, satisfaction for desiring it, grace for receiving, and more grace for accepting and using the first. He invited us with gracious words and perfect entertainments; He threatened horrible things to us if we would not be happy; He hath made strange necessities for us, making our very repentance to be a conjugation of holy actions, and holy times, and a long succession; He hath taken away all excuses from us; He hath called us from temptation; He bears our charges; He is always beforehand with us in every act of favor, and perpetually slow in striking, and His arrows are unfeathered; and He is so long, first, in drawing His sword, and another long while in whetting it, and yet longer in lifting His hand to strike, that before the blow comes the man hath repented long, unless he be a fool and impudent; and then God is so glad of an excuse to lay His anger aside, that certainly, if after all this, we refuse life and glory, there is no more to be said; this plain story will condemn us; but the story is very much longer; and, as our conscience will represent all our sins to us, so the Judge will represent all His Father's kindnesses, as Nathan did to David, when he was to make the justice of the divine sentence appear against him. Then it shall be remembered that the joys of every day's piety would have been a greater pleasure every night than the remembrance of every night's sin could have been in the morning; that every night the trouble and labor of the day's virtue would have been as much passed and turned to as the pleasure of that day's sin, but that they would be infinitely distinguished by the effects. The offering ourselves to God every morning, and the thanksgiving to God every night, hope and fear, shame and desire, the honor of leaving a fair name behind us, and the shame of dying like a fool,--everything indeed in the world is made to be an argument and an inducement to us to invite us to come to God and be saved; and therefore when this, and infinitely more shall by the Judge be exhibited in sad remembrances, there needs no other sentence; we shall condemn ourselves with a hasty shame and a fearful confusion, to see how good God hath been to us, and how base we have been to ourselves. Thus Moses is said to accuse the Jews; and thus also He that does accuse, is said to condemn, as Verres was by Cicero, and Claudia by Domitius her accuser, and the world of impenitent persons by the men of Nineveh, and all by Christ, their Judge. I represent the horror of this circumstance to consist in this, besides the reasonableness of the judgment, and the certainty of the condemnation, it can not but be an argument of an intolerable despair to perishing souls, when He that was our advocate all our life, shall, in the day of that appearing, be our Accuser and our Judge, a party against us, an injured person in the day of His power and of His wrath, doing execution upon all His own foolish and malicious enemies. Our conscience shall be our accuser. But this signifies but these two things: First, That we shall be condemned for the evils that we have done and shall then remember, God by His power wiping away the dust from the tables of our memory, and taking off the consideration and the voluntary neglect and rude shufflings of our cases of conscience. For then we shall see things as they are, the evil circumstances and the crooked intentions, the adherent unhandsomeness and the direct crimes; for all things are laid up safely, and tho we draw a curtain of cobweb over them, and a few fig-leaves before our shame, yet God shall draw away the curtain, and forgetfulness shall be no more, because, with a taper in the hand of God, all the corners of our nastiness shall be discovered. And, secondly, it signifies this also, that not only the justice of God shall be confest by us in our own shame and condemnation, but the evil of the sentence shall be received into us, to melt our bowels and to break our heart in pieces within us, because we are the authors of our own death, and our own inhuman hands have torn our souls in pieces. Thus far the horrors are great, and when evil men consider it, it is certain they must be afraid to die. Even they that have lived well, have some sad considerations, and the tremblings of humility, and suspicion of themselves. I remember St. Cyprian tells of a good man who in his agony of death saw a fantasm of a noble and angelical shape, who, frowning and angry, said to him: "Ye can not endure sickness, ye are troubled at the evils of the world, and yet you are loath to die and to be quit of them; what shall I do to you?" Altho this is apt to represent every man's condition more or less, yet, concerning persons of wicked lives, it hath in it too many sad degrees of truth; they are impatient of sorrow, and justly fearful of death, because they know not how to comfort themselves in the evil accidents of their lives; and their conscience is too polluted to take death for sanctuary, and to hope to have amends made to their condition by the sentence of the day of judgment. Evil and sad is their condition who can not be contented here nor blest hereafter, whose life is their misery and their conscience is their enemy, whose grave is their prison and death their undoing, and the sentence of doomsday the beginning of an intolerable condition. The third sort of accusers are the devils, and they will do it with malicious and evil purposes. The prince of the devils hath Diabolus for one of his chiefest appellatives. The accuser of the brethren he is by his profest malice and employment; and therefore God, who delights that His mercy should triumph and His goodness prevail over all the malice of men and devils, hath appointed one whose office is to reprove the accuser and to resist the enemy, and to be a defender of their cause who belong to God. The Holy Spirit is a defender; the evil spirit is the accuser; and they that in this life belong to one or the other, shall in the same proportion be treated at the day of judgment. The devil shall accuse the brethren, that is, the saints and servants of God, and shall tell concerning their follies and infirmities, the sins of their youth and weakness of their age, the imperfect grace and the long schedule of omissions of duty, their scruples and their fears, their diffidences and pusillanimity, and all those things which themselves by strict examination find themselves guilty of and have confest all their shame and the matter of their sorrows, their evil intentions and their little plots, their carnal confidences and too fond adherences of the things of this world, their indulgence and easiness of government, their wilder joys and freer meals, their loss of time and their too forward and apt compliances, their trifling arrests and little peevishnesses, the mixtures of the world with the thing of the Spirit, and all the incidences of humanity he will bring forth and aggravate them by circumstances of ingratitude, and the breach of promise, and the evacuating all their holy purposes, and breaking their resolutions, and rifling their vows, and all these things, being drawn into an entire representment, and the bills clogged by numbers, will make the best man in the world seem foul and unhandsome, and stained with the characters of death and evil dishonor. But for these there is appointed a defender. The Holy Spirit that maketh intercession for us shall then also interpose, and against all these things shall oppose the passion of our blest Lord, and upon all their defects shall cast the robe of righteousness; and the sins of their youth shall not prevail so much as the repentance of their age, and their omissions be excused by probable intervening causes, and their little escapes shall appear single and in disunion, because they were always kept asunder by penitential prayers and sighings, and their seldom returns of sin by their daily watchfulness, and their often infirmities by the sincerity of their souls, and their scruples by their zeal, and their passions by their love, and all by the mercies of God and the sacrifice which their Judge offered and the Holy Spirit made effective by daily graces and assistances. These, therefore, infallibly go to the portion of the right hand, because the Lord our God shall answer for them. But as for the wicked, it is not so with them; for altho the plain story of their life be to them a sad condemnation, yet what will be answered when it shall be told concerning them, that they despised God's mercies, and feared not His angry judgments; that they regarded not His Word, and loved not His excellences; that they were not persuaded by the promises nor affrighted by His threatenings; that they neither would accept His government nor His blessings; that all the sad stories that ever happened in both the worlds (in all which Himself did escape till the day of His death, and was not concerned in them save only that He was called upon by every one of them, which He ever heard or saw or was told of, to repentance), that all these were sent to Him in vain? But can not the accuser truly say to the Judge concerning such persons, "They were Thine by creation, but mine by their own choice; Thou didst redeem them indeed, but they sold themselves to me for a trifle, or for an unsatisfying interest; Thou diedst for them, but they obeyed my commandments; I gave them nothing, I promised them nothing but the filthy pleasures of a night, or the joys of madness, or the delights of a disease; I never hanged upon the cross three long hours for them, nor endured the labors of a poor life thirty-three years together for their interest; only when they were Thine by the merit of Thy death, they quickly became mine by the demerit of their ingratitude; and when Thou hadst clothed their soul with Thy robe, and adorned them by Thy graces, we stript them naked as their shame, and only put on a robe of darkness, and they thought themselves secure and went dancing to their grave like a drunkard to a fight, or a fly unto a candle; and therefore they that did partake with us in our faults must divide with us in our portion and fearful interest." This is a sad story because it ends in death, and there is nothing to abate or lessen the calamity. It concerns us therefore to consider in time that he that tempts us will accuse us, and what he calls pleasant now he shall then say was nothing, and all the gains that now invite earthly souls and mean persons to vanity, was nothing but the seeds of folly, and the harvest in pain and sorrow and shame eternal. But then, since this horror proceeds upon the account of so many accusers, God hath put it in our power by a timely accusation of ourselves in the tribunal of the court Christian, to prevent all the arts of aggravation which at doomsday shall load foolish and undiscerning souls. He that accuses himself of his crimes here, means to forsake them, and looks upon them on all sides, and spies out his deformity, and is taught to hate them, he is instructed and prayed for, he prevents the anger of God and defeats the devil's malice, and, by making shame the instrument of repentance, he takes away the sting, and makes that to be his medicine which otherwise would be his death: and, concerning this exercise, I shall only add what the patriarch of Alexandria told an old religious person in his hermitage. Having asked him what he found in that desert, he was answered, "Only this, to judge and condemn myself perpetually; that is the employment of my solitude." The patriarch answered, "There is no other way." By accusing ourselves we shall make the devil's malice useless, and our own consciences clear, and be reconciled to the Judge by the severities of an early repentance, and then we need to fear no accusers. BAXTER MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND SALVATION BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Richard Baxter, was born in 1615, at Rowton, near Shrewsbury, in England. After surmounting great difficulties in securing an education for the ministry he was ordained in 1638, in the Church of England, his first important charge being that of Kidderminster, where he established his reputation as a powerful evangelical and controversial preacher. Altho opposed to Cromwell's extreme acts, he became a chaplain in the army of the Rebellion. His influence was all on the side of peace, however, and at the Restoration he was appointed chaplain to Charles II. Baxter left the Church of England on the promulgation of the Act of Uniformity, and in 1662 retired to Acton in Middlesex, where he wrote most of his works. The Acts of Indulgence enabled him to return to London, where he remained until Judge Jeffreys imprisoned and fined him on a charge of sedition. He was the most prolific writer and controversialist of his day among nonconformists. Baxter left only two works which seem likely to be of ever fresh interest, "The Saint's Rest" and "Calls to the Unconverted." He died in London in 1691. BAXTER 1615-1691 MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND SALVATION _But they made light of it_.--Matt, xxii., 5. Beloved hearers; the office that God hath called us to is, by declaring the glory of His grace, to help under Christ to the saving of men's souls. I hope you think not that I come hither to-day on another errand. The Lord knows I had not set a foot out-of-doors but in hope to succeed in this work for your souls. I have considered, and often considered, what is the matter that so many thousands should perish when God hath done so much for their salvation; and I find this that is mentioned in my text is the cause. It is one of the wonders of the world, that when God hath so loved the world as to send His Son, and Christ hath made a satisfaction by His death sufficient for them all, and offereth the benefits of it so freely to them, even without money or price, that yet the most of the world should perish; yea, the most of those that are thus called by His Word! Why, here is the reason--when Christ hath done all this, men make light of it. God hath showed that He is not unwilling; and Christ hath showed that He is not unwilling that men should be restored to God's favor and be saved; but men are actually unwilling themselves. God takes not pleasure in the death of sinners, but rather that they return and live. But men take such pleasure in sin that they will die before they will return. The Lord Jesus was content to be their physician, and hath provided them a sufficient plaster of His own blood: but if men make light of it, and will not apply it, what wonder if they perish after all? This Scripture giveth us the reason of their perdition. This, sad experience tells us, the most of the world is guilty of. It is a most lamentable thing to see how most men do spend their care, their time, their pains, for known vanities, while God and glory are cast aside; that He who is all should seem to them as nothing, and that which is nothing should seem to them as good as all; that God should set mankind in such a race where heaven or hell is their certain end, and that they should sit down, and loiter, or run after the childish toys of the world, and so much forget the prize that they should run for. Were it but possible for one of us to see the whole of this business as the all-seeing God doth; to see at one view both heaven and hell, which men are so near; and see what most men in the world are minding, and what they are doing every day, it would be the saddest sight that could be imagined. Oh, how should we marvel at their madness, and lament their self-delusion! O poor distracted world! what is it you run after? and what is it that you neglect? If God had never told them what they were sent into the world to do, or whither they were going, or what was before them in another world, then they had been excusable; but He hath told them over and over, till they were weary of it. Had He left it doubtful, there had been some excuse; but it is His sealed word, and they profess to believe it, and would take it ill of us if we should question whether they do believe it or not. Beloved, I come not to accuse any of you particularly of this crime; but seeing it is the commonest cause of men's destruction, I suppose you will judge it the fittest matter for our inquiry, and deserving our greatest care for the cure. To which end I shall, (1) endeavor the conviction of the guilty; (2) shall give them such considerations as may tend to humble and reform them; (3) I shall conclude with such direction as may help them that are willing to escape the destroying power of this sin. And for the first, consider: It is the case of most sinners to think themselves freest from those sins that they are most enslaved to; and one reason why we can not reform them is because we can not convince them of their guilt. It is the nature of sin so far to blind and befool the sinner, that he knoweth not what he doth, but thinketh he is free from it when it reigneth in him, or when he is committing it: it bringeth men to be so much unacquainted with themselves that they know not what they think, or what they mean and intend, nor what they love or hate, much less what they are habituated and disposed to. They are alive to sin, and dead to all the reason, consideration, and resolution that should recover them, as if it were only by their sinning that we must know that they are alive. May I hope that you that hear me to-day are but willing to know the truth of your case, and then I shall be encouraged to proceed to an inquiry. God will judge impartially; why should not we do so? Let me, therefore, by these following questions, try whether none of you are slighters of Christ and your own salvation. And follow me, I beseech you, by putting them close to your own hearts, and faithfully answering them. Things that men highly value will be remembered; they will be matter of their freest and sweetest thoughts. This is a known case. Do not those then make light of Christ and salvation that think of them so seldom and coldly in comparison of other things? Follow thy own heart, man, and observe what it daily runneth after; and then judge whether it make not light of Christ. We can not persuade men to one hour's sober consideration what they should do for an interest in Christ, or in thankfulness for His love, and yet they will not believe that they make light of Him. Things that we highly value will be matter of our discourse; the judgment and heart will command the tongue. Freely and delightfully will our speech run after them. This also is a known case. Do not those men make light of Christ and salvation that shun the mention of His name, unless it be in a vain or sinful use? Those that love not the company where Christ and salvation is much talked of, but think it troublesome, precise discourse: that had rather hear some merry jests, or idle tales, or talk of their riches or business in the world; when you may follow them from morning to night, and scarce have a savory word of Christ; but perhaps some slight and weary mention of Him sometimes; judge whether these make not light of Christ and salvation. How seriously do they talk of the world and speak of vanity! but how heartlessly do they make mention of Christ and salvation! The things that we highly value we would secure the possession of, and therefore would take any convenient course to have all doubts and fears about them well resolved. Do not those men then make light of Christ and salvation that have lived twenty or thirty years in uncertainty whether they have any part in these or not, and yet never seek out for the right resolution of their doubts? Are all that hear me this day certain they shall be saved? Oh, that they were! Oh, had you not made light of salvation, you could not so easily bear such doubting of it; you could not rest till you had made it sure, or done your best to make it sure. Have you nobody to inquire of, that might help you in such a work? Why, you have ministers that are purposely appointed to that office. Have you gone to them, and told them the doubtfulness of your case, and asked their help in the judging of your condition? Alas! ministers may sit in their studies from one year to another, before ten persons among a thousand will come to them on such an errand! Do not these make light of Christ and salvation? When the gospel pierceth the heart indeed, they cry out, "Men and brethren, what shall we do to be saved?" Trembling and astonished, Paul cries out, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" And so did the convinced Jews to Peter. But when hear we such questions? The things that we value do deeply affect us, and some motions will be in the heart according to our estimation of them. O sirs, if men made not light of these things, what working would there be in the hearts of all our hearers! What strange affections would it raise in them to hear of the matters of the world to come! How would their hearts melt before the power of the gospel! What sorrow would be wrought in the discovery of their sins! What astonishment at the consideration of their misery! What unspeakable joy at the glad tidings of salvation by the blood of Christ! What resolution would be raised in them upon the discovery of their duty! Oh, what hearers should we have, if it were not for this sin! Whereas now we are liker to weary them, or preach them asleep with matters of this unspeakable moment. We talk to them of Christ and salvation till we make their heads ache: little would one think by their careless carriage that they heard and regarded what we said, or tho we spoke at all to them. Our estimation of things will be seen in the diligence of our endeavors. That which we highliest value, we shall think no pains too great to obtain. Do not those men then make light of Christ and salvation that think all too much that they do for them; that murmur at His service, and think it too grievous for them to endure? that ask His service as Judas of the ointment. What need this waste? Can not men be saved without so much ado? This is more ado than needs. For the world they will labor all the day, and all their lives; but for Christ and salvation they are afraid of doing too much. Let us preach to them as long as we will, we can not bring them to relish or resolve upon a life of holiness. Follow them to their houses, and you shall not hear them read a chapter, nor call upon God with their families once a day; nor will they allow Him that one day in seven which He hath separated to His service. But pleasure, or worldly business, or idleness, must have a part And many of them are so far hardened as to reproach them that will not be as mad as themselves. And is not Christ worth the seeking? Is not everlasting salvation worth more than all this? Doth not that soul make light of all these that thinks his ease more worth than they? Let but common sense judge. That which we most highly value, we think we can not buy too dear. Christ and salvation are freely given, and yet the most of men go without them because they can not enjoy the world and them together. They are called but to part with that which would hinder them Christ, and they will not do it. They are called but to give God His own, and to resign all to His will, and let go the profits and pleasures of this world, when they must let go either Christ or them, and they will not. They think this too dear a bargain, and say they can not spare these things: they must hold their credit with men; they must look to their estates: how shall they live else? They must have their pleasure, whatsoever becomes of Christ and salvation: as if they could live without Christ better than without these; as if they were afraid of being losers by Christ, or could make a saving match by losing their souls to gain the world. Christ hath told us over and over that if we will not forsake all for Him we can not be His disciples. Far are these men from forsaking all, and yet will needs think that they are His disciples indeed. That which men highly esteem, they would help their friends to as well as themselves. Do not those men make light of Christ and salvation that can take so much care to leave their children portions in the world, and do so little to help them to heaven? that provide outward necessaries so carefully for their families, but do so little to the saving of their souls? Their neglected children and friends will witness that either Christ, or their children's souls, or both, were made light of. That which men highly esteem, they will so diligently seek after that you may see it in the success, if it be a matter within their reach. You may see how many make light of Christ, by the little knowledge they have of Him, and the little communion with Him, and the communication from Him; and the little, yea, none, of His special grace in them. Alas! how many ministers can speak it to the sorrow of their hearts, that many of their people know almost nothing of Christ, tho they hear of Him daily! Nor know they what they must do to be saved: if we ask them an account of these things, they answer as if they understood not what we say to them, and tell us they are no scholars, and therefore think they are excusable for their ignorance. Oh, if these men had not made light of Christ and their salvation, but had bestowed but half as much pains to know and enjoy Him as they have done to understand the matters of their trades and callings in the world, they would not have been so ignorant as they are: they make light of these things, and therefore will not be at the pains to study or learn them. When men that can learn the hardest trade in a few years have not learned a catechism, nor how to understand their creed, under twenty or thirty years' preaching, nor can abide to be questioned about such things, doth not this show that they have slighted them in their hearts? How will these despisers of Christ and salvation be able one day to look Him in the face, and to give an account of these neglects? Thus much I have spoken in order to your conviction. Do not some of your consciences by this time smite you, and say, I am the man that have made light of my salvation? If they do not, it is because you make light of it still, for all that is said to you. But because, if it be the will of the Lord, I would fain have this damning distemper cured, and am loath to leave you in such a desperate condition, if I knew how to remedy it, I will give you some considerations, which may move you, if you be men of reason and understanding, to look better about you; and I beseech you to weigh them, and make use of them as we go, and lay open your hearts to the work of grace, and sadly bethink you what a case you are in, if you prove such as make light of Christ. Consider, 1. Thou makest light of Him that made not light of thee who deserve it. Thou wast worthy of nothing but contempt. As a man, what art thou but a worm to God? As a sinner, thou art far viler than a toad: yet Christ was so far from making light of thee and thy happiness, that He came down into the flesh, and lived a life of suffering, and offered Himself a sacrifice to the justice which thou hadst provoked, that thy miserable soul might have a remedy. It is no less than miracles of love and mercy that He hath showed to us; and yet shall we slight them after all? Angels admire them, whom they less concern, and shall redeemed sinners make light of them? What barbarous, yea, devilish--yea, worse than devilish--ingratitude is this! The devils never had a savior offered to them; but thou hast, and dost thou yet make light of Him? 2. Consider, the work of man's salvation by Jesus Christ is the masterpiece of all the works of God, wherein He would have His love and mercy to be magnified. As the creation declareth. His goodness and power, so doth redemption His goodness and mercy; He hath contrived the very frame of His worship so that it shall much consist in the magnifying of this work; and, after all this, will you make light of it? "His name is wonderful." "He did the work that none could do." "Greater love could none show than His." How great was the evil and misery that He delivered us from! the good procured from us! All are wonders, from His birth to His ascension; from our new birth to our glorification, all are wonders of matchless mercy--and yet do you make light of them? 3. You make light of matters of greatest excellency and moment in the world: you know not what it is that you slight: had you well known, you would not have done it. As Christ said to the woman of Samaria, "Hadst thou known who it is that speaketh to thee, thou wouldst have asked of Him the waters of life"; had they known they would not have crucified the Lord of Glory. So, had you known what Christ is, you would not have made light of Him; had you been one day in heaven, and but seen what they possess, and seen also what miserable souls must endure that are shut out, you would never sure have made so light of Christ. O sirs, it is no trifles or jesting matters that the gospel speaks of. I must needs profess to you that when I have the most serious thoughts of these things myself, I am ready to marvel that such amazing matters do not overwhelm the souls of men; that the greatness of the subject doth not so overmatch our understandings and affections as even to drive men besides themselves, but that God hath always somewhat allayed it by the distance; much more that men should be so blockish as to make light of them. O Lord, that men did but know what everlasting glory and everlasting torments are: would they then hear us as they do? would they read and think of these things as they do? I profess I have been ready to wonder, when I have heard such weighty things delivered, how people can forbear crying out in the congregation; much more how they can rest till they have gone to their ministers, and learned what they should do to be saved, that this great business might be put out of doubt. Oh, that heaven and hell should work no more on men! Oh, that everlastingness work no more! Oh, how can you forbear when you are alone to think with yourselves what it is to be everlastingly in joy or in torment! I wonder that such thoughts do not break your sleep, and that they come not in your mind when you are about your labor! I wonder how you can almost do anything else! how you can have any quietness in your minds! How you can eat, or drink, or rest, till you have got some ground of everlasting consolations! Is that a man or a corpse that is not affected with matters of this moment? that can be readier to sleep than to tremble when he heareth how he must stand at the bar of God? Is that a man or a clod of clay that can rise or lie down without being deeply affected with his everlasting estate? that can follow his worldly business and make nothing of the great business of salvation or damnation; and that when they know it is hard at hand? Truly, sirs, when I think of the weight of the matter, I wonder at the very best of God's saints upon the earth that they are no better, and do no more in so weighty a case. I wonder at those whom the world accounteth more holy than needs, and scorns for making too much ado, that they can put off Christ and their souls with so little; that they pour not out their souls in every supplication; that they are not more taken up with God; that their thoughts be more serious in preparation for their account. I wonder that they be not a hundred times more strict in their lives, and more laborious and unwearied in striving for the crown, than they are. And for myself, as I am ashamed of my dull and careless heart, and of my slow and unprofitable course of life, so the Lord knows I am ashamed of every sermon that I preach: when I think what I have been speaking of, and who sent me, and that men's salvation or damnation is so much concerned in it, I am ready to tremble lest God should judge me as a slighter of His truth and the souls of men, and lest in the best sermon I should be guilty of their blood. Methinks we should not speak a word to men in matters of such consequence without tears, or the greatest earnestness that possibly we can: were not we too much guilty of the sin which we reprove, it would be so. Whether we are alone, or in company, methinks our end, and such an end, should still be in our mind, and before our eyes; and we should sooner forget anything, and set light by anything, or by all things, than by this. Consider, 4. Who is it that sends this weighty message to you? Is it not God Himself? Shall the God of heaven speak and men make light of it? You would not slight the voice of an angel or a prince. 5. Whose salvation is it that you make light of? Is it not your own? Are you no more near or dear to yourselves than to make light of your own happiness or misery? Why, sirs, do you not care whether you be saved or damned? Is self-love lost? are you turned your own enemies? As he that slighteth his meat doth slight his life, so if you slight Christ, whatsoever you may think, you will find it was your own salvation that you slighted. Hear what He saith, "All they that hate me love death." 6. Your sin is greater, in that you profess to believe the gospel which you make so light of. For a profest infidel to do it that believes not that ever Christ died, or rose again, or doth not believe that there is a heaven or hell, this were no such marvel--but for you, that make it your creed, and your very religion, and call yourselves Christians, and have been baptized into this faith, and seemed to stand to it, this is the wonder, and hath no excuse. What! believe that you shall live in endless joy or torment, and yet make no more of it to escape torment, and obtain that joy! What! believe that God will shortly judge you, and yet make no preparation for it! Either say plainly, I am no Christian, I do not believe these wonderful things, I will believe nothing but what I see, or else let your hearts be affected with your belief, and live as you say you do believe. What do you think when you repeat the creed, and mention Christ's judgment and everlasting life? 7. What are these things you set so much by as to prefer them before Christ and the saving of your soul? Have you found a better friend, a greater and a surer happiness than this? Good Lord! what dung is it that men make so much of, while they set so light by everlasting glory? What toys are they that are daily taken up with, while matters of life and death are neglected? Why, sirs, if you had every one a kingdom in your hopes, what were it in comparison of the everlasting kingdom? I can not but look upon all the glory and dignity of this world, lands and lordships, crowns and kingdoms, even as on some brain-sick, beggarly fellow, that borroweth fine clothes, and plays the part of a king or a lord for an hour on a stage, and then comes down, and the sport is ended, and they are beggars again. Were it not for God's interest in the authority of magistrates, or for the service they might do Him, I should judge no better of them. For, as to their own glory, it is but a smoke: what matter is it whether you live poor or rich, unless it were a greater matter to die rich than it is? You know well enough that death levels all. What matter is it at judgment, whether you be to answer for the life of a rich man or a poor man? Is Dives, then, any better than Lazarus? Oh, that men knew what poor, deceiving shadow they grasp at while they let go the everlasting substance! The strongest, and richest, and most voluptuous sinners do but lay in fuel for their sorrows, while they think they are gathering together a treasure. Alas! they are asleep, and dream that they are happy; but when they awake, what a change will they find! Their crown is made of thorns; their pleasure hath such a sting as will stick in the heart through all eternity, except unfeigned repentance do prevent it. Oh, how sadly will these wretches be convinced ere long, what a foolish bargain they made in selling Christ and their salvation for these trifles! Let your farms and merchandise, then, save you, if they can, and do that for you that Christ would have done. Cry then to Baal, to save thee! Oh, what thoughts have drunkards and adulterers, etc., of Christ, that will not part with the basest lust for Him? "For a piece of bread," saith Solomon, "such men do transgress." 8. To set so light by Christ and salvation is a certain mark that thou hast no part in them, and if thou so continue, that Christ will set as light by thee: "Those that honor him he will honor, and those that despise him shall be lightly esteemed." Thou wilt feel one day that thou canst not live without Him; thou wilt confess then thy need of Him; and then thou mayest go look for a savior where thou wilt; for He will be no Savior for thee hereafter, that wouldst not value Him, and submit to Him here. Then who will prove the loser by thy contempt? Oh, what a thing will it be for a poor miserable soul to cry to Christ for help in the day of extremity, and to hear so sad an answer as this! Thou didst set lightly by Me and My law in the day of thy prosperity, and I will now set as light by thee in the day of thy adversity. Read Prov. i., 24, to the end. Thou that, as Esau, didst sell thy birthright for a mess of pottage, shalt then find no place for repentance, tho thou seek it with tears. Do you think that Christ shed His blood to save them that continue to make light of it? and to save them, that value a cup of drink or a lust before His salvation? I tell you, sirs, tho you set so light by Christ and salvation, God doth not so: He will not give them on such terms as these: He valueth the blood of His Son, and the everlasting glory, and He will make you value them if ever you have them. Nay, this will be thy condemnation, and leaveth no remedy. All the world can not save him that sets lightly by Christ. None of them shall taste of His supper. Nor can you blame Him to deny you what you made light of yourselves. Can you find fault if you miss of the salvation which you slighted? 9. The time is near when Christ and salvation will not be made light of as now they are. When God hath shaken those careless souls out of their bodies, and you must answer for all your sins in your own name, oh, then, what would you not give for a Savior! When a thousand bills shall be brought in against you, and none to relieve you, then you will consider, Oh! Christ would now have stood between me and the wrath of God; had I not despised Him, He would have answered all. When you see the world hath left you, and your companions in sin have deceived themselves and you, and all your merry days are gone, then what would you not give for that Christ and salvation that now you account not worth your labor! Do you think that when you see the judgment seat, and you are doomed to everlasting perdition for your wickedness, that you should then make as light of Christ as now? Why will you not judge now as you know you shall judge then? Will He then be worth ten thousand worlds? And is He not now worth your highest estimation and dearest affection? 10. God will not only deny thee that salvation thou madest light of, but He will take from thee all that which thou didst value before it: he that most highly esteems Christ shall have Him, and the creatures, so far as they are good here, and Him without the creature hereafter, because the creature is not useful; and he that sets more by the creature than by Christ, shall have some of the creature without Christ here, and neither Christ nor it hereafter. So much of these considerations, which may show the true face of this heinous sin. What think you now, friends, of this business? Do you not see by this time what a case that soul is in that maketh light of Christ and salvation? What need then is there that you should take heed lest this should prove your own case! The Lord knows it is too common a case. Whoever is found guilty at the last of this sin, it were better for that man he had never been born. It were better for him he had been a Turk or Indian, that never had heard the name of a Savior, and that never had salvation offered to him: for such men "have no cloak for their sin." Besides all the rest of their sins, they have this killing sin to answer for, which will undo them. And this will aggravate their misery, that Christ whom they set light by must be their Judge, and for this sin will He judge them. Oh, that such would now consider how they will answer that question that Christ put to their predecessors: "How will ye escape the damnation of hell" or, "How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?" Can you escape without a Christ? or will a despised Christ save you then? If he be accurst that sets light by father or mother, what then is he that sets light by Christ? It was the heinous sin of the Jews, that among them were found such as set light by father and mother. But among us, men slight the Father of Spirits! In the name of God, brethren, I beseech you to consider how you will then bear this anger which you now make light of! You that can not make light of a little sickness or want, or of natural death, no, not of a toothache, but groan as if you were undone; how will you then make light of the fury of the Lord, which will burn against the contemners of His grace! Doth it not behoove you beforehand to think of these things? Dearly beloved in the Lord, I have now done that work which I came upon; what effect it hath, or will have, upon your hearts, I know not, nor is it any further in my power to accomplish that which my soul desireth for you. Were it the Lord's will that I might have my wish herein, the words that you have this day heard should so stick by you that the secure should be awakened by them, and none of you should perish by the slighting of your salvation. I can not follow you to your several habitations to apply this word to your particular necessities; but oh, that I could make every man's conscience a preacher to himself that it might do it, which is ever with you! That the next time you go prayerless to bed, or about your business, conscience might cry out, Dost thou set no more by Christ and thy salvation? That the next time you are tempted to think hardly of a holy and diligent life (I will not say to deride it as more ado than needs), conscience might cry out to thee, Dost thou set so light by Christ and thy salvation? That the next time you are ready to rush upon unknown sin, and to please your fleshly desires against the command of God, conscience might cry out, Is Christ and salvation no more worth than to cast them away, or venture them for thy lust? That when you are following the world with your most eager desires, forgetting the world to come, and the change that is a little before you, conscience might cry out to you, Is Christ and salvation no more worth than so? That when you are next spending the Lord's day in idleness or vain sports, conscience might tell you what you are doing. In a word, that in all your neglects of duty, your sticking at the supposed labor or cost of a godly life, yea, in all your cold and lazy prayers and performances, conscience might tell you how unsuitable such endeavors are to the reward; and that Christ and salvation should not be so slighted. I will say no more but this at this time, it is a thousand pities that when God hath provided a Savior for the world, and when Christ hath suffered so much for their sins, and made so full a satisfaction to justice, and purchased so glorious a kingdom for His saints, and all this is offered so freely to sinners, to lost, unworthy sinners, even for nothing, that yet so many millions should everlastingly perish because they make light of their Savior and salvation, and prefer the vain world and their lusts before them. I have delivered my message, the Lord open your hearts to receive it. I have persuaded you with the word of truth and soberness; the Lord persuade you more effectually, or else all this is lost. Amen. BOSSUET THE FUNERAL SERMON ON THE DEATH OF THE GRANDE COND� BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Jacque Benigne Bossuet was born at Dijon, in Burgundy, in 1627. In an illustrious group of French Catholic preachers he occupied a foremost place. In beginning his sermons he was reserved and dignified, but as he moved forward and his passionate utterance captured his hearers, "he watched their rising emotion, the rooted glances of a thousand eyes filled him with a sort of divine frenzy, his notes became a burden and a hindrance, and with impetuous ardor he abandoned himself to the inspiration of the moment." To ripe scholarship Bossuet added a voice that was deep and sonorous, an imposing personality, and an animated and graceful style of gesture. Lamartine says he had "a voice which, like that of the thunder in the clouds, or the organ in the cathedral, had never been anything but the medium of power and divine persuasion to the soul; a voice which only spoke to kneeling auditors; a voice which spoke in the name of God, an authority of language unequaled upon earth, and against which the lowest murmur was impious and the smallest opposition blasphemy." He died in 1704. BOSSUET 1627-1704 THE FUNERAL SERMON ON THE DEATH OF THE GRANDE COND� In beginning this address, in which I purpose to celebrate the immortal glory of Louis de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, I feel myself overweighted both by the grandeur of the subject and, to be frank, by the fruitlessness of the effort. What part of the inhabited world has not heard of the victories of the Prince de Condé and the wonders of his life? They are recounted everywhere; the Frenchman who boasts of them in the presence of the foreigner tells him nothing which the latter does not know; and in no matter how exalted a strain I might sound his praises, I should still feel that in your hearts you were convinced that I deserved the reproach of falling far short of doing him justice. An orator, feeble as he is, can not do anything for the perpetuation of the glory of extraordinary souls. Le Sage was right when he said that "their deeds alone can praise them"; no other praise is of any effect where great names are concerned; and it needs but the simple story of his deeds faithfully recorded to sustain the glory of the Prince de Condé. But, while awaiting the appearance of the history which is to tell the story of his life to coming ages, it is necessary to satisfy as best we may the public recognition of his merit and bow to the order of the greatest of all sovereigns. What does not the kingdom owe to a prince who has honored the house of France, the French name, his century, and, so to speak, all mankind? Louis the Great himself shares these sentiments; after having mourned this great man, and by his tears, shed in the presence of his entire court, rather than by words, uttered the most glorious eulogy he could receive, he assembled together in this celebrated temple all that is most august in his realm, in order that the last rites to the memory of this prince might there be celebrated; and he wishes that my feeble voice should animate all this funeral equipage. Let us try, then, to forget our grief. Here an object greater and worthier of this pulpit presents itself to my mind: it is God, who makes warriors and conquerors. "It is Thou," said David unto Him, "who hast trained my hand to battle, and my fingers to hold the sword." If He inspires courage, no less is He the bestower of other great qualities, both of heart and of mind. His mighty hand is the source of everything; it is He who sends from heaven generous sentiments, wise counsels and every worthy thought. But He wishes us to know how to distinguish between the gifts He abandons to His enemies and those He reserves for His servants. What distinguishes His friends from all others is piety. Until this gift of heaven has been received, all others not only are as naught, but even bring ruin on those who are endowed with them; without this inestimable gift of piety what would the Prince de Condé have been, even with his great heart and great genius? No, my brethren, if piety had not, as it were, consecrated his other virtues, these princes would have found no consolation for their grief, nor this pontiff any confidence in his prayers, nor would I myself utter with conviction the praises which I owe so great a man. Let us, by this example, then set human glory at naught; let us destroy the idol of the ambitious, that it might fall to pieces before this altar. Let us to-day join together (for with a subject so noble we may do it) all the finest qualities of a superior nature; and, for the glory of truth, let us demonstrate, in a prince admired of the universe, that what makes heroes, that what carries to the highest pitch worldly glory, worth, magnanimity, natural goodness--all attributes of the heart; vivacity, penetration, grandeur and sublimity of genius--attributes of the mind; would be but an illusion were piety not a part of them--in a word, that piety is the essence of the man. It is this, gentlemen, which you will see in the forever memorable life of the most high and mighty Prince Louis de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, first prince of the blood. God has revealed to us that He alone creates conquerors, and that He makes them serve His designs. What other created a Cyrus if it is not God, who named him two hundred years before his birth in the Prophecies of Isaiah? "Thou art as yet unborn," He said unto him, "but I see thee, and I named thee by thy name; thou shalt be called Cyrus. I will walk before thee in battle, at thy approach I will put kings to flight; I will break down doors of brass. It is I that stretch out the heavens, that support the earth, that name that which is not as that which is," that is to say, it is I that create everything and I that see, from eternity, all that I create. What other could fashion an Alexander, if it is not this same God who caused the unquenchable ardor of Daniel, His prophet, to see from so great a distance and by means of foreshadowings so vivid. "Do you see him," he says, "this conqueror; with what rapidity he rises from the west by bounds, as it were, and touches not the earth?" In the boldness of his leaps, and the lightness of his tread like unto some powerful and frisking beast, he advances by quick and impetuous bounds, and nor mountain nor precipice arrests his progress. Already has the King of Persia fallen into his hands. "At his sight he was exasperated; _efferatus est in eum_," says the prophet; "he strikes him down, he tramples him under foot; none can save him from his blows nor cheat him of his prey." But to hear these words of Daniel, whom would you suppose you perceived, gentlemen, under that figure of speech--Alexander or the Prince de Condé? God gave him that dauntless valor that France might enjoy safety during the minority of a king but four years old. Let him grow up, this king, cherished of Heaven, and all will yield to his exploits; rising above his own followers, as well as his enemies, he will know how sometimes to make use of, and at others to dispense with, his most illustrious captains, and alone, under the hand of God, who will be his constant aid, he will be seen to be the stanch rampart of his dominions. But God chose the Duc d'Enghien to defend him in his infancy. So, toward the first days of his reign, at the age of twenty-two years, the duke conceived a plan in the armor of which the seasoned veterans could find no vulnerable point; but victory justified his course at Rocroi. The opposing force, it is true, is stronger; it is composed of those old Walloon, Italian and Spanish regiments that, up to that time, could not be broken; but at what valuation should be placed the courage inspired in our troops by the pressing necessities of the state, by past successes, and by a young prince of the blood in whose eyes could be read victory? Don Francisco de Mellos awaits the onset with a firm foot; and, without being able to retreat, the two generals and the two armies seemed to have wished to imprison themselves in the woods and the marshes in order to decide the issue of combat like two champions in the lists. Then what a sight is presented to the eye! the young prince appears another man; touched by an object so worthy, his great soul displays all its sublimity; his courage waxes with the dangers it has to encounter, and his penetration becomes keener as his ardor increases. That night, which had to be spent in the presence of the enemy, like the vigilant commander that he was, he was the last to retire. But never were his slumbers more peaceful. On the eve of so momentous a day, when the first battle is to be fought, his mind is entirely tranquil, so thoroughly is he in his element; and it is well known that on the morrow, at the hour he had indicated, it was necessary to awaken this second Alexander from a deep slumber. Do you see him as he rushes on to victory or death? No sooner had he inspired the ranks with the ardor with which his soul was animated than he was seen almost at the same time to press the right wing of the enemy, support our own shaken by the shock of the charge, rally the disheartened and almost vanquished French forces, put to flight the victorious Spaniards, carrying dismay everywhere, and terrifying by his lightning glances those who escape his blows. There still remained that dreaded infantry of the Spanish army, whose great battalions in close line of battle like so many towers, but towers which knew how to repair their breaches, were unshaken by the onset, and, tho the rest of the army was put to rout, maintained a steady fire. Thrice the young conqueror attempted to break the ranks of these intrepid warriors, thrice was he repulsed by the valorous Comte de Fontaines, who was borne to the scene of combat in his invalid's chair, by reason of his bodily infirmities, thus demonstrating that the warrior's soul has the ascendant over the body it animates. But at last was he forced to yield. In vain does Beck, with a body of fresh cavalry, hasten his march through the woods in order to attack our exhausted soldiers; the prince has forestalled him; the defeated battalions are asking quarter. But victory for the Duc d'Enghien was destined to be more terrible than the combat. While with an air of confidence he advances to receive the surrender of these brave fellows, they, on their part, still on their guard, are in dread of being surprized by a fresh attack. The frightful havoc wrought by the discharge of their musketry infuriates our troops. Carnage is now rampant; the bloodshed intoxicates the soldiers to a high degree. But the prince, who could not bear to see these lions slaughtered like so many lambs, calmed their overwrought feeling and enhanced the pleasure of victory by that of pardoning the vanquished. What, then, was the astonishment of these veteran troops and their brave officers when they perceived that their only salvation was to give themselves up to their conqueror! With what wonder did they regard the young prince, whose victory had rendered still more impressive his customary proud bearing, to which, however, his clemency had imparted a new grace. How willingly would he have saved the life of the brave Comte de Fontaines, but unhappily he lay stretched upon the field of battle among the thousands of dead bodies, those whose loss is still kept by Spain. Spain knew not that the prince who caused her the loss of so many of her old regiments on the day of Rocroi was to finish the rest on the plains of Lens. Thus the first victory was the guarantee of many others. The prince bent his knee and on the field of battle rendered to the Lord of Hosts the glory He had sent him. There was celebrated the deliverance of Rocroi, and thanksgivings were uttered that the threats of a once dreaded enemy had resulted in his own shameful defeat; that the regency was strengthened, France calmed, and a reign which was to be so illustrious begun by an augury so auspicious. The army led in thanksgiving; all France followed; the first venture of the Duc d'Enghien was lauded to the skies. Praise sufficient to render others forever illustrious; but for him it was but the first stage in his career! As a result of this first campaign, and after the capture of Thionville--a prize worthy of the victory gained at Rocroi--he was regarded as an adversary equally to be feared in sieges and in battles. But there is one trait in the character of the victorious young prince no less admirable than that which was brought out by victory. The court, which at his arrival was prepared to welcome him with the plaudits he deserved, was surprized at the manner in which he received them. The queen-regent assured him that the king was well pleased with his services. This from the lips of his sovereign was a fitting recompense for his labors. If others dared to praise him, however, he treated their eulogies as insults, and, impatient of flattery, he was in dread even of its semblance. Such was the delicacy, or rather the solidity of character, of this prince. Moreover his maxim was (listen, for it is a maxim which makes great men), that, in the performance of great deeds, one's sole thought should be to perform them well, and leave glory to follow in the train of virtue. It is this which he has endeavored to instil into others, and by this principle has he himself ever been guided. Thus false glory had no temptation for him. It was with truth and greatness alone that he was concerned. Thus it came about that his glory was wrapt up in the service of his kind and in the happiness and well-being of the state; They were the objects nearest his heart; these were his first and most cherished desires. The court had but little charm for him, or occupation suited to his talents, tho he was there regarded as its greatest hero. It was deemed needful to exhibit everywhere in Germany, as in Flanders, the intrepid defender whom God had given us. Remark well what is about to transpire: There is being formed against the prince an enterprise of a more formidable nature than, that at Rocroi; and, in order to put his talents to the test, warfare is about to drain all its resources, and call to its aid every known invention. What is it that is presented to my vision? I see not merely men to meet in combat but inaccessible mountains: on one side are ravines and precipices; on the other impenetrable forests in the heart of which are marshes, and in proximity to streams are impregnable intrenchments; everywhere are lofty fortresses and forests of felled trees lying across roads which are frightful; and there arises Merci, with his worthy Bavarians inflated by the large measure of success which has fallen to their arms and by the capture of Fribourg; Merci, whom none has ever seen retreat from the combat; Merci, whom the Prince de Condé and the vigilant Turenne have never surprized in a movement that was not in accord with the rales of warfare, and to whom they have conceded this great mark of admiration--that never has he lost a single favorable opportunity, nor failed to anticipate their designs as tho he had taken part in their councils. Here, then, in the course of eight days, and by four separate attacks, is seen how much can be supported and undertaken in war. Our troops seem as much dispirited by the frightful condition of the field of battle as by the resistance of the enemy, and for a time the prince sees himself, so to speak, abandoned. But like a second Maccabee, "his right arm abandons him not, and his courage, inflamed by so many perils, came to his aid." No sooner had he been seen on foot the first to scale those inaccessible heights, than his ardor drew the whole army after him. Merci sees himself lost beyond redemption; his best regiments are defeated; nightfall is the salvation of the remainder of his army. But a severe rainstorm serves to add to our difficulties and discouragements, so that we have at the same time to contend with not only the highest courage and the perfection of art, but the forces of nature as well. In spite of the advantage that an enemy, as able as he is bold, takes of these conditions, and the fact that he intrenches himself anew in his impregnable mountains, hard prest on every side, he is forced not only to allow his cannon and baggage to fall a prey to the Duc d'Enghien, but also the country bordering the Rhine. See how everything is shaken to its foundation: Philipsburg is in dire distress in ten days, in spite of the winter now close at hand; Philipsburg, which so long held the Rhine captive under our laws, and whose loss the greatest of kings so gloriously retrieved. Worms, Spire, Mayence, Landau, twenty other places I might name, open their portals: Merci is unable to defend them, and no longer faces his conqueror. It is not enough; he must fall at his feet, a worthy victim of his valor. Nordlingen will witness his overthrow; it will there be admitted that it is no more possible to withstand the French in Germany than in Flanders. And all these benefits we will owe to this self-same prince. God, the protector of France and of a king whom He has destined to perform His great works, thus ordains ... It was not merely for a son nor for his family that he had such tender sentiments: I have seen him (and do not think that I here speak in terms of exaggeration), I have seen him deeply moved by the perils of his friends. Simple and natural as he was, I have seen his features betray his emotions at the story of their misfortunes, and he was ever ready to confer with them on the most insignificant details as well as on affairs of the utmost importance. In the adjustment of quarrels, he was ever ready to soothe turbulent spirits with a patience and good nature that one would little have expected from a disposition so excitable, nor from a character so lofty. What a contrast to heroes devoid of human sympathy! Well might the latter command respect and charm the admiration, as do all extraordinary things, but they will not win the heart. When God fashioned the heart of man and endowed him with human affection, He first of all inspired him with the quality of kindness, like unto the essence of the divine nature itself, as a token of the beneficent hand that fashioned us. Kindness, therefore, ought to be the mainspring and guide of our heart, and ought at the same time to be the chief attraction that should, as it were, be a part of our very being, with which to win the hearts of others. Greatness, which is but the result of good fortune, so far from diminishing the quality of kindness, is but given one that he might the more freely spread broadcast its beneficent effects like a public fountain, which is but erected that its waters might be scattered to the sunlight. This is the value of a good heart; and the great who are devoid of the quality of kindness, justly punished for their disdainful insensibility to the misfortunes of their fellows, are forever deprived of the greatest blessing of human life--that is to say, of the pleasures of society. Never did man enjoy these pleasures more keenly than the prince of whom I am speaking; never was man less inspired with the misgiving that familiarity breeds contempt. Is this the man who carried cities by storm and won great battles? Verily, he seems to have forgotten the high rank he so well knew how to sustain. Do you not recognize in him the hero, who, ever equable and consistent, never having to stand on tiptoe to seem taller than he is, nor to stoop to be courteous and obliging, found himself by nature all that a man ought to be toward his fellow, like a majestic and bountiful stream, which peacefully bears into the cities the abundance it has spread in the fields that it has watered, which gives to all and never rises above its normal height, nor becomes swollen except when violent opposition is offered to the gentle slope by which it continues on its tranquil course. Such, indeed, has also been the gentleness and such the might of the Prince de Condé. Have you a secret of importance? Confide it boldly to the safe-keeping of this noble heart; he will reward your confidence by making your affair his own. To this prince nothing is more inviolable than the sacred rights of friendship. When a favor is asked of him he acts as tho he himself were under obligation; and never has a joy keener and truer been witnessed than he felt at being able to give pleasure to another. It was a grand spectacle to see during the same period, and in the same campaigns, these two men, who in the common opinion of all Europe could be favorably compared to the greatest captains of past ages, sometimes at the head of different bodies of troops; sometimes united more indeed by the concord of their thoughts than by the orders which the subaltern received from his superior; sometimes at the head of opposing forces, and each redoubling his customary activity and vigilance, as tho God, who, according to the Scriptures, often in His wisdom makes a sport of the universe, had desired to show mortals the wonders in all their forms that He could work with men. Behold the encampments, the splendid marches, the audacity, the precautions, the perils, the resources of these brave men! Has there ever been beheld in two men virtues such as these in characters so different, not to say diametrically opposite? The one appears to be guided by deep reflection, the other by sudden illumination; the latter as a consequence, tho more impetuous, yet never acting with undue precipitation; the former, colder of manner, tho never slow, is bolder of action than of speech, and even while having the outward appearance of embarrassment, inwardly determined and resolved. The one, from the moment he appears in the army, conveys an exalted idea of his worth and makes one expect of him something out of the ordinary; nevertheless, he advanced in regular order, and performed, as it were, by degrees, the prodigious deeds which marked the course of his career. The other, like a man inspired from the date of his first battle, showed himself the equal of the most consummate masters of the art of warfare. The one by his prompt and continued efforts commanded the admiration of the human race and silenced the voice of envy; the other shone so resplendently from the very beginning that none dared attack him. The one, in a word, by the depth of his genius and the incredible resources of his courage, rose superior to the greatest perils and even knew how to profit by every kind of fickleness of fortune; the other, by reason of the advantages derived from high birth, by his great conceptions derived from Heaven, and by a kind of admirable instinct, the secret of which is not given to ordinary men, seemed born to mold fortune to conform to his designs and bring destiny to his feet. And that the great tho diverse characters of these two men might be clearly discerned, it should be borne in mind that the one, his career cut short by an unexpected blow, died for his country like another Judas Maccabeus, mourned by the army as for a father, while the court and all the people, lamented his fate. His piety as well as his courage were universally lauded, and his memory will never fade from the minds of men. The other, raised to the very summit of glory by force of arms like another David, dies like him in his bed, sounding the praises of God and leaving his dying behests to his family, while all hearts were imprest as much by the splendor of his life as by the gentleness of his death. BUNYAN THE HEAVENLY FOOTMAN BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Bunyan was born in the village of Elstow, near Bedford, England, in 1628. Because of his fearless preaching he was imprisoned in Bedford jail from 1660 to 1672, and again for six months in 1675, during which latter time it is said his wonderful "Pilgrim's Progress" was written. While his sermons in their tedious prolixity share the fault of his time, they are characterized by vividness, epigrammatic wit, and dramatic fervor. The purity and simplicity of his style have been highly praised, and his unflinching faith has been the inspiration of many a hesitating soul. Among his best known works are "The Holy War," "Grace Abounding in the Chief of Sinners," and "Sighs from Hell." He died in London in 1688. BUNYAN 1628-1688 THE HEAVENLY FOOTMAN _So run that ye may obtain_.--I Cor. ix., 24. Heaven and happiness is that which every one desireth, insomuch that wicked Balaam could say, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his." Yet, for all this, there are but very few that do obtain that ever-to-be-desired glory, insomuch that many eminent professors drop short of a welcome from God into this pleasant place. The apostle, therefore, because he did desire the salvation of the souls of the Corinthians, to whom he writes this epistle, layeth them down in these words such counsel, which if taken, would be for their help and advantage. First, Not to be wicked, and sit still, and wish for heaven; but to run for it. Secondly, Not to content themselves with, every kind of running, but, saith he, "So run that ye may obtain." As if he should say, some, because they would not lose their souls, begin to run betimes, they run apace, they run with patience, they run the right way. Do you so run. Some run from both father and mother, friends and companions, and thus, they may have the crown. Do you so run. Some run through temptations, afflictions, good report, evil report, that they may win the pearl. Do you so run. "So run that ye may obtain." These words were taken from men's funning for a wager; a very apt similitude to set before the eyes of the saints of the Lord. "Know you that they which run in a race run all, but one obtaineth the prize? So run that ye may obtain." That is, do not only run, but be sure you win as well as run. "So run that ye may obtain." I shall not need to make any great ado in opening the words at this time, but shall rather lay down one doctrine that I do find in them; and in prosecuting that, I shall show you, in some measure, the scope of the words. The doctrine is this: They that will have heaven, must run for it; I say, they that will have heaven, they must run for it. I beseech you to heed it well. "Know ye not, that they which run in a race run all, but one obtaineth the prize? So run ye." The prize is heaven, and if you will have it, you must run for it. You have another scripture for this in the xii. of the Hebrews, the 1st, 2d, and 3d verses: "Wherefore seeing also," saith the apostle, "that we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us." And let us run, saith he. Again, saith Paul, "I so run, not as uncertainly: so fight I," etc. But before I go any farther: 1. Fleeing. Observe, that this running is not an ordinary, or any sort of running, but it is to be understood of the swiftest sort of running; and therefore, in the vi. of the Hebrews, it is called a fleeing: "That we might have strong consolation, who have fled for refuge, to lay hold on the hope set before us." Mark, who have fled. It is taken from that xx. of Joshua, concerning the man that was to flee to the city of refuge, when the avenger of blood was hard at his heels, to take vengeance on him for the offense he had committed; therefore it is a running or fleeing for one's life: a running with all might and main, as we use to say. So run. 2. Pressing. Secondly, this running in another place is called a pressing. "I press toward the mark"; which signifieth, that they that will have heaven, they must not stick at any difficulties they meet with; but press, crowd, and thrust through all that may stand between heaven and their souls. So run. 3. Continuing. Thirdly, this running is called in another place, a continuing in the way of life. "If you continue in the faith grounded, and settled, and be not moved away from the hope of the gospel of Christ." Not to run a little now and then, by fits and starts, or half-way, or almost thither, but to run for my life, to run through all difficulties, and to continue therein to the end of the race, which must be to the end of my life. "So run that ye may obtain." And the reasons are: (1.) Because all or every one that runneth doth not obtain the prize; there may be many that do run, yea, and run far too, who yet miss of the crown that standeth at the end of the race. You know all that run in a race do not obtain the victory; they all run, but one wins. And so it is here; it is not every one that runneth, nor every one that seeketh, nor every one that striveth for the mastery that hath it. "Tho a man do strive for the mastery," saith Paul, "yet he is not crowned, unless he strive lawfully"; that is, unless he so run, and so strive, as to have God's approbation. What, do you think that every heavy-heeled professor will have heaven? What, every lazy one? every wanton and foolish professor, that will be stopt by anything, kept back by anything, that scarce runneth so fast heavenward as a snail creepeth on the ground? Nay, there are some professors that do not go on so fast in the way of God as a snail doth go on the wall; and yet these think that heaven and happiness is for them. But stay, there are many more that run than there be that obtain; therefore he that will have heaven must run for it. (2.) Because you know, that tho a man do run, yet if he do not overcome, or win, as well as run, what will they be the better for their running? They will get nothing. You know the man that runneth, he doth do it to win the prize; but if he doth not obtain it, he doth lose his labor, spend his pains and time, and that to no purpose; I say, he getteth nothing. And ah! how many such runners will there be found in the day of judgment? Even multitudes, multitudes that have run, yea, run so far as to come to heaven-gates, and not able to get any farther, but there stand knocking when it is too late, crying, Lord! Lord! when they have nothing but rebukes for their pains. Depart from Me, you come not here, you come too late, you run too lazily; the door is shut. "When once the master of the house is risen up," saith Christ, "and hath shut to the door, and ye begin to stand without, and to knock, saying, Lord, Lord, open to us, I will say, I know you not, depart," etc. Oh, sad will the state of those be that run and miss; therefore, if you will have heaven, you must run for it; and "so run that ye may obtain." (3.) Because the way is long (I speak metaphorically), and there is many a dirty step, many a high hill, much work to do, a wicked heart, world, and devil to overcome; I say, there are many steps to be taken by those that intend to be saved, by running or walking in the steps of that faith of our father Abraham. Out of Egypt thou must go through the Red Sea; thou must run a long and tedious journey, through the vast howling wilderness, before thou come to the land of promise. (4.) They that will go to heaven they must run for it; because, as the way is long, so the time in which they are to get to the end of it is very uncertain; the time present is the only time; thou hast no more time allotted thee than thou now enjoyest: "Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth." Do not say, I have time enough to get to heaven seven years hence; for I tell thee, the bell may toll for thee before seven days more be ended; and when death comes, away thou must go, whether thou art provided or not; and therefore look to it; make no delays; it is not good dallying with things of so great concernment as the salvation or damnation of thy soul. You know he that hath a great way to go in a little time, and less by half than he thinks of, he had need to run for it. (5.) They that will have heaven, they must run for it; because the devil, the law, sin, death, and hell follow them. There is never a poor soul that is going to heaven, but the devil, the law, sin, death, and hell, make after the soul. "The devil, your adversary, as a roaring lion, goeth about, seeking whom he may devour." And I will assure you, the devil is nimble, he can run apace, he is light of foot, he hath overtaken many, he hath turned up their heels, and hath given them an everlasting fall. Also the law, that can shoot a great way, have a care thou keep out of the reach of those great guns, the Ten Commandments. Hell also hath a wide mouth; it can stretch itself farther that you are aware of. And as the angel said to Lot, "Take heed, look not behind thee, neither tarry thou in all the plain" (that is, anywhere between this and heaven), "lest thou be consumed"; so I say to thee, Take heed, tarry not, lest either the devil, hell or the fearful curses of the law of God do overtake thee, and throw thee down in the midst of thy sins, so as never to rise and recover again. If this were all considered, then thou, as well as I, wouldst say, They that will have heaven must run for it. (6.) They that go to heaven must run for it; because perchance the gates of heaven may be shut shortly. Sometimes sinners have not heaven-gates open to them so long as they suppose; and if they be once shut against a man, they are so heavy that all the men in the world, nor all the angels in heaven, are not able to open them. "I shut, and no man can open," saith Christ. And how if thou shouldst come but one quarter of an hour too late? I tell thee, it will cost thee an eternity to bewail thy misery in. Francis Spira can tell thee what it is to stay till the gate of mercy be quite shut; or to run so lazily that they be shut before you get within them. What, to be shut out! what, out of heaven! Sinner, rather than lose it, run for it; yea, "and so run that thou mayst obtain." (7.) Lastly, because if thou lose, thou losest all, thou losest soul, God, Christ, heaven, ease, peace, etc. Besides, thou layest thyself open to all the shame, contempt, and reproach, that either God, Christ, saints, the world, sin, the devil, and all can lay upon thee. As Christ saith of the foolish builder, so I will say of thee, if thou be such a one who runs and misses; I say, even all that go by will begin to mock at thee, saying, This man began to run well, but was not able to finish. But more of this anon. Quest. But how should a poor soul do to run? For this very thing is that which afflicteth me sore (as you say), to think that I may run, and yet fall short. Methinks to fall short at last, oh, it fears me greatly. Pray tell me, therefore, how I should run. Ans. That thou mayst indeed be satisfied in this particular, consider these following things. The first direction: If thou wouldst so run as to obtain the kingdom of heaven, then be sure that thou get into the way that leadeth thither: For it is a vain thing to think that ever thou shalt have the prize, tho thou runnest never so fast, unless thou art in the way that leads to it. Set the case, that there should be a man in London that was to run to York for a wager; now, tho he run never so swiftly, yet if he run full south, he might run himself quickly out of breath, and be never nearer the prize, but rather the farther off? Just so is it here; it is not simply the runner, nor yet the hasty runner, that winneth the crown, unless he be in the way that leadeth thereto. I have observed, that little time which I have been a professor, that there is a great running to and fro, some this way, and some that way, yet it is to be feared most of them are out of the way, and then, tho they run as swift as the eagle can fly, they are benefited nothing at all. Here is one runs a-quaking, another a-ranting; one again runs after the baptism, and another after the Independency: here is one for Freewill, and another for Presbytery; and yet possibly most of all these sects run quite the wrong way, and yet every one is for his life, his soul, either for heaven or hell. If thou now say, Which is the way? I tell thee it is Christ, the Son of Mary, the Son of God. Jesus saith, "I am the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh to the Father but by me." So then thy business is (if thou wouldst have salvation), to see if Christ be thine, with all His benefits; whether He hath covered thee with His righteousness, whether He hath showed thee that thy sins are washed away with His heart-blood, whether thou art planted into Him, and whether you have faith in Him, so as to make a life out of Him, and to conform thee to Him; that is, such faith as to conclude that thou art righteous, because Christ is thy righteousness, and so constrained to walk with Him as the joy of thy heart, because he saveth thy soul. And for the Lord's sake take heed, and do not deceive thyself, and think thou art in the way upon too slight grounds; for if thou miss of the way, thou wilt miss of the prize, and if thou miss of that I am sure thou wilt lose thy soul, even that soul which is worth more than the whole world. Mistrust thy own strength, and throw it away; down on thy knees in prayer to the Lord for the spirit of truth; search His word for direction; flee seducers' company; keep company with the soundest Christians, that have most experience of Christ; and be sure thou have a care of Quakers, Ranters, Free-willers: also do not have too much company with some Anabaptists, tho I go under that name myself. I will tell thee this is such a serious matter, and I fear thou wilt so little regard it, that the thought of the worth of the thing, and of thy too light regarding of it, doth even make my heart ache whilst I am writing to thee. The Lord teach thee the way by His Spirit, and then I am sure thou wilt know it. So run. The second direction: As thou shouldst get into the way, so thou shouldst also be much in studying and musing on the way. You know men that would be expert in anything, they are usually much in studying of that thing, and so likewise is it with those that quickly grow expert in any way. This therefore thou shouldst do; let thy study be much exercised about Christ, which is the way, what He is, what He hath done, and why He is what He is, and why He hath done what is done; as why "He took upon Him the form of a servant" (Phil, ii.); why He was "made in the likeness of man"; why He cried; why He died; why He "bare the sin of the world"; why He was made sin, and why He was made righteousness; why He is in heaven in the nature of man, and what He doth there. Be much in musing and considering of these things; be thinking also enough of those places which thou must not come near, but leave some on this hand, and some on that hand; as it is with those that travel into other countries; they must leave such a gate on this hand, and such a bush on that hand, and go by such a place, where standeth such a thing. Thus therefore you must do: "Avoid such things, which are expressly forbidden in the Word of God." Withdraw thy foot far from her, "and come not nigh the door of her house, for her steps take hold of hell, going down to the chambers of death." And so of everything that is not in the way, have a care of it, that thou go not by it; come not near it, have nothing to do with it. So run. The third direction: Not only thus, but in the next place, thou must strip thyself of those things that may hang upon thee, to the hindering of thee in the way to the kingdom of heaven, as covetousness, pride, lust, or whatever else thy heart may be inclining unto, which may hinder thee in this heavenly race. Men that run for a wager, if they intend to win as well as run, they do not use to encumber themselves, or carry those things about them that may be a hindrance to them in their running. "Every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things"; that is, he layeth aside everything that would be anywise a disadvantage to him; as saith the apostle, "Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us." It is but a vain thing to talk of going to heaven, if thou let thy heart be encumbered with those things that would hinder. Would you not say that such a man would be in danger of losing, tho he run, if he fill his pockets with stones, hang heavy garments on his shoulders, and get lumpish shoes on his feet? So it is here; thou talkest of going to heaven, and yet fillest thy pockets with stones--_i.e._, fillest thy heart with this world, lettest that hang on thy shoulders, with its profits and pleasures. Alas! alas! thou art widely mistaken: if thou intendest to win, thou must strip, thou must lay aside every weight, thou must be temperate in all things. Thou must so run. The fourth direction: Beware of by-paths; take heed thou dost not turn into those lanes which lead out of the way. There are crooked paths, paths in which men go astray, paths that lead to death and damnation, but take heed of all those. Some of them are dangerous because of practise, some because of opinion, but mind them not; mind the path before thee, look right before thee, turn neither to the right hand nor to the left, but let thine eyes look right on, even right before thee; "Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established." Turn not to the right hand nor to the left. "Remove thy foot far from evil." This counsel being not so seriously taken as given, is the reason of that starting from opinion to opinion, reeling this way and that way, out of this lane into that lane, and so missing the way to the kingdom. Tho the way to heaven be but one, yet there are many crooked lanes and by-paths that shoot down upon it, as I may say. And again, notwithstanding the kingdom of heaven be the biggest city, yet usually those by-paths are most beaten, most travelers go those ways; and therefore the way to heaven is hard to be found, and as hard to be kept in, by reason of these. Yet, nevertheless, it is in this case as it was with the harlot of Jericho; she had one scarlet thread tied in her window, by which her house was known: so it is here, the scarlet streams of Christ's blood run throughout the way to the kingdom of heaven; therefore mind that, see if thou do not find the besprinkling of the blood of Christ in the way, and if thou do, be of good cheer, thou art in the right way; but have a care thou beguile not thyself with a fancy; for then thou mayst light into any lane or way; but that thou mayst not be mistaken, consider, tho it seem never so pleasant, yet if thou do not find that in the very middle of the road there is written with the heart-blood of Christ, that he came into the world to save sinners, and that we are justified, tho we are ungodly, shun that way; for this it is which the apostle meaneth when, he saith, "We have boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He hath consecrated for us, through the vail--that is to say, His flesh." How easy a matter it is in this our day, for the devil to be too cunning for poor souls, by calling his by-paths the way to the kingdom. If such an opinion or fancy be but cried up by one or more, this inscription being set upon it by the devil, "This is the way of God," how speedily, greedily, and by heaps, do poor simple souls throw away themselves upon it; especially if it be daubed over with a few external acts of morality, if so good. But it is because men do not know painted by-paths from the plain way to the kingdom of heaven. They have not yet learned the true Christ, and what His righteousness is, neither have they a sense of their own insufficiency; but are bold, proud, presumptuous, self-conceited. And therefore, The fifth direction: Do not thou be too much in looking too high in thy journey heavenward. You know men that run a race do not use to stare and gaze this way and that, neither do they use to cast up their eyes too high, lest haply, through their too much gazing with their eyes after other things, they in the mean time stumble and catch a fall. The very same case is this: if thou gaze and stare after every opinion and way that comes into the world, also if thou be prying overmuch into God's secret decrees, or let thy heart too much entertain questions about some nice foolish curiosities, thou mayst stumble and fall, as many hundreds in England have done, both in ranting and quakery, to their own eternal overthrow, without the marvelous operation of God's grace be suddenly stretched forth to bring them back again. Take heed, therefore; follow not that proud, lofty spirit, that, devil-like, can not be content with his own station. David was of an excellent spirit, where he saith, "Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty, neither do I exercise myself in great matters, or things too high for me. Surely I have behaved and quieted myself as a child that is weaned of his mother: My soul is even as a weaned child." Do thou so run. The sixth direction: Take heed that you have not an ear open to every one that calleth after you as you are in your journey. Men that run, you know, if any do call after them, saying, I would speak with you, or go not too fast and you shall have my company with you, if they run for some great matter, they use to say, Alas! I can not stay, I am in haste, pray talk not to me now; neither can I stay for you, I am running for a wager: if I win I am made; if I lose I am undone, and therefore hinder me not. Thus wise are men when they run for corruptible things, and thus shouldst thou do, and thou hast more cause to do so than they, forasmuch as they run for things that last not, but thou for an incorruptible glory. I give thee notice of this betimes, knowing that thou shalt have enough call after thee, even the devil, sin, this world, vain company, pleasures, profits, esteem among men, ease, pomp, pride, together with an innumerable company of such companions; one crying, Stay for me; the other saying, Do not leave me behind; a third saying, And take me along with you. What, will you go, saith the devil, without your sins, pleasures, and profits? Are you so hasty? Can you not stay and take these along with you? Will you leave your friends and companions behind you? Can you not do as your neighbors do, carry the world, sin, lust, pleasure, profit, esteem among men, along with you? Have a care thou do not let thine ear open to the tempting, enticing, alluring, and soul-entangling flatteries of such sink-souls as these are. "My son," saith Solomon, "if sinners entice thee, consent thou not." You know what it cost the young man whom Solomon speaks of in the vii. of the Proverbs, that was enticed by a harlot: "With much fair speech she won him, and caused him to yield, with the flattering of her lips she forced him, till he went after her as an ox to the slaughter, or as a fool to the correction of the stocks"; even so far, "till the dart struck through his liver," and he knew not "that it was for his life." "Hearken unto me now therefore," saith he, "O ye children, and attend to the words of my mouth, let not thine heart incline to her ways, go not astray in her paths, for she hast cast down many wounded, yea, many strong men have been slain (that is, kept out of heaven); by her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death." Soul, take this counsel, and say, Satan, sin, lust, pleasure, profit, pride, friends, companions, and everything else, let me alone, stand off, come not nigh me, for I am running for heaven, for my soul, for God, for Christ, from hell and everlasting damnation; if I win, I win all; and if I lose, I lose all; let me alone, for I will not hear. So run. The seventh direction: In the next place be not daunted tho thou meetest with never so many discouragements in thy journey thither. That man that is resolved for heaven, if Satan can not win him by flatteries, he will endeavor to weaken him by discouragements; saying, Thou art a sinner, thou hath broken God's law, thou art not elected, thou cometh too late, the day of grace is passed, God doth not care for thee, thy heart is naught, thou art lazy, with a hundred other discouraging suggestions. And thus it was with David where he saith, "I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the loving-kindness of the Lord in the land of the living." As if he should say, the devil did so rage, and my heart was so base, that had I judged according to my own sense and feeling, I had been absolutely distracted; but I trusted to Christ in the promise, and looked that God would be as good as his promise, in having mercy upon me, an unworthy sinner; and this is that which encouraged me, and kept me from fainting. And thus must thou do when Satan or the law, or thy own conscience, do go about to dishearten thee, either by the greatness of thy sins, the wickedness of thy heart, the tediousness of the way, the loss of outward enjoyments, the hatred that thou wilt procure from the world or the like; then thou must encourage thyself with the freeness of the promises, the tender-heartedness of Christ, the merits of His blood, the freeness of His invitations to come in, the greatness of the sin of others that have been pardoned, and that the same God, through the same Christ, holdeth forth the same grace as free as ever. If these be not thy meditations, thou wilt draw very heavily in the way of heaven, if thou do not give up all for lost, and so knock off from following any farther; therefore, I say, take heart in thy journey, and say to them that seek thy destruction, "Rejoice not against me, O my enemy, for when I fall I shall arise, when I sit in darkness the Lord shall be a light unto me." So run. The eighth direction: Take heed of being offended at the cross that thou must go by before thou come to heaven. You must understand (as I have already touched) that there is no man that goeth to heaven but he must go by the cross. The cross is the standing way-mark by which all they that go to glory must pass. "We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of heaven." "Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." If thou art in thy way to the kingdom, my life for thine thou wilt come at the cross shortly (the Lord grant thou dost not shrink at it, so as to turn thee back again). "If any man will come after me," saith Christ, "let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me." The cross it stands, and hath stood, from the beginning, as a way-mark to the kingdom of heaven. You know, if one ask you the way to such and such a place, you, for the better direction, do not only say, This is the way, but then also say, You must go by such a gate, by such a stile, such a bush, tree, bridge, or such like. Why, so it is here; art thou inquiring the way to heaven? Why, I tell thee, Christ is the way; into Him thou must get, into His righteousness, to be justified; and if thou art in Him, thou wilt presently see the cross, thou must go close by it, thou must touch it, nay, thou must take it up, or else thou wilt quickly go out of the way that leads to heaven, and turn up some of those crooked lanes that lead down to the chambers of death. It is the cross which keepeth those that are kept from heaven. I am persuaded, were it not for the cross, where we have one professor we should have twenty; but this cross, that is it which spoileth all. The ninth direction: Beg of God that He would do these two things for thee: First, enlighten thine understanding: And, secondly, inflame thy will. If these two be but effectually done, there is no fear but thou wilt go safe to heaven. One of the great reasons why men and women do so little regard the other world is because they see so little of it: And the reason why they see so little of it is because they have their understanding darkened: And therefore, saith Paul, "Do not you believers walk as do other Gentiles, even in the vanity of their minds, having their understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance (or foolishness) that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart." Walk not as those, run not with them: alas! poor souls, they have their understandings darkened, their hearts blinded, and that is the reason they have such undervaluing thoughts of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the salvation of their souls. For when men do come to see the things of another world, what a God, what a Christ, what a heaven, and what an eternal glory there is to be enjoyed; also when they see that it is possible for them to have a share in it, I tell you it will make them run through thick and thin to enjoy it. Moses, having a sight of this, because his understanding was enlightened, "He feared not the wrath of the king, but chose rather to suffer afflictions with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season. He refused to be called the son of the king's daughter"; accounting it wonderful riches to be accounted worthy of so much as to suffer for Christ with the poor despised saints; and that was because he saw Him who was invisible, and had respect unto the recompense of reward. And this is that which the apostle usually prayeth for in his epistles for the saints, namely, "That they might know what is the hope of God's calling, and the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints; and that they might be able to comprehend with all saints, what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height, and know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge." ... The tenth direction: Cry to God that He would inflame thy will also with the things of the other world. For when a man's will is fully set to do such or such a thing, then it must be a very hard matter that shall hinder that man from bringing about his end. When Paul's will was set resolvedly to go up to Jerusalem (tho it was signified to him before what he should there suffer), he was not daunted at all; nay, saith he, "I am ready (or willing) not only to be bound, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus." His will was inflamed with love to Christ; and therefore all the persuasions that could be used wrought nothing at all. Your self-willed people, nobody knows what to do with them: we use to say, he will have his own will, do all what you can. Indeed, to have such a will for heaven, is an admirable advantage to a man that undertaketh a race thither; a man that is resolved, and hath his will fixt, saith he, I will do my best to advantage myself; I will do my worst to hinder my enemies; I will not give out as long as I can stand; I will have it or I will lose my life; "tho he slay me, yet will I trust in him. I will not let thee go except thou bless me." I will, I will, I will, oh this blest inflamed will for heaven! What is it like? If a man be willing, then any argument shall be a matter of encouragement; but if unwilling, then any argument shall give discouragement; this is seen both in saints and sinners; in them that are the children of God, and also those that are the children of the devil. As, 1. The saints of old, they being willing and resolved for heaven, what could stop them? Could fire and fagot, sword or halter, stinking dungeons, whips, bears, bulls, lions, cruel rackings, stoning, starving, nakedness, etc., "and in all these things they were more than conquerors, through him that loved them"; who had also made them "willing in the day of his power." 2. See again, on the other side, the children of the devil, because they are not willing, how many shifts and starting-holes they will have. I have a married wife, I have a farm, I shall offend my landlord, I shall offend my master, I shall lose my trading, I shall lose my pride, my pleasures, I shall be mocked and scoffed, therefore I dare not come. I, saith another, will stay till I am older, till my children are out, till I am got a little aforehand in the world, till I have done this and that and the other business; but, alas! the thing is, they are not willing; for, were they but soundly willing, these, and a thousand such as these, would hold them no faster than the cords held Samson, when he broke them like burnt flax. I tell you the will is all: that is one of the chief things which turns the wheel either backward or forward; and God knoweth that full well, and so likewise doth the devil; and therefore they both endeavor very much to strengthen the will of their servants; God, He is for making of His a willing people to serve Him; and the devil, he doth what he can to possess the will and affection of those that are his with love to sin; and therefore when Christ comes closer to the matter, indeed, saith He, "You will not come to me. How often would I have gathered you as a hen doth her chickens, but you would not." The devil had possest their wills, and so long he was sure enough of them. Oh, therefore cry hard to God to inflame thy will for heaven and Christ: thy will, I say, if that be rightly set for heaven, thou wilt not be beat off with discouragements; and this was the reason that when Jacob wrestled with the angel, tho he lost a limb, as it were, and the hollow of his thigh was put out of joint as he wrestled with him, yet saith he, "I will not," mark, "I will not let thee go except thou bless me." Get thy will tipped with the heavenly grace, and resolution against all discouragements, and then thou goest full speed for heaven; but if thou falter in thy will, and be not found there, thou wilt run hobbling and halting all the way thou runnest, and also to be sure thou wilt fall short at last. The Lord give thee a will and courage. Thus I have done with directing thee how to run to the kingdom; be sure thou keep in memory what I have said unto thee, lest thou lose thy way. But because I would have thee think of them, take all in short in this little bit of paper. 1. Get into the way. 2. Then study on it. 3. Then, strip, and lay aside everything that would hinder. 4.. Beware of by-paths. 5. Do not gaze and stare too much about thee, but be sure to ponder the path of thy feet. 6. Do not stop for any that call after thee, whether it be the world, the flesh, or the devil: for all these will hinder thy journey, if possible. 7. Be not daunted with any discouragements thou meetest with as thou goest. 8. Take heed of stumbling at the cross. 9. Cry hard to God for an enlightened heart, and a willing mind, and God give thee a prosperous journey. Provocation: Now that you may be provoked to run with the foremost, take notice of this. When Lot and his wife were running from curst Sodom to the mountains, to save their lives, it is said, that his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt; and yet you see that neither her example, nor the judgment of God that fell upon her for the same, would cause Lot to look behind him. I have sometimes wondered at Lot in this particular; his wife looked behind her, and died immediately, but let what would become of her, Lot would not so much as once look behind him to see her. We do not read that he did so much as once look where she was, or what was become of her; his heart was indeed upon his journey, and well it might: there was the mountain before him, and the fire and brimstone behind him; his life lay at stake, and he had lost it if he had looked behind. Do thou so run and in thy race remember Lot's wife, and remember her doom; and remember for what that doom did overtake her; and remember that God made her an example for all lazy runners, to the end of the world; and take heed thou fall not after the same example. But, If this will not provoke thee, consider thus, 1. Thy soul is thine own soul, that is either to be saved or lost; thou shalt not lose my soul by thy laziness. It is thine own soul, thine own ease, thine own peace, thine own advantage or disadvantage. If it were my own that thou art desired to be good unto, methinks reason should move thee somewhat to pity it. But, alas! it is thine own, thine own soul. "What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" God's people wish well to the souls of others, and wilt not thou wish well to thine own? And if this will not provoke thee, then think. Again, 2. If thou lose thy soul, it is thou also that must bear the blame. It made Cain stark mad to consider that he had not looked to his brother Abel's soul. How much more will it perplex thee to think that thou hadst not a care of thine own? And if this will not provoke thee to bestir thyself, think again. 3. That, if thou wilt not run, the people of God are resolved to deal with thee even as Lot dealt with his wife--that is, leave thee behind them. It may be thou hast a father, mother, brother, etc., going post-haste to heaven, wouldst thou be willing to be left behind them? Surely no. Again, 4. Will it not be a dishonor to thee to see the very boys and girls in the country to have more with them than thyself? It may be the servants of some men, as the housekeeper, plowman, scullion, etc., are more looking after heaven than their masters. I am apt to think, sometimes, that more servants than masters, that more tenants than landlords, will inherit the kingdom of heaven. But is not this a shame for them that are such? I am persuaded you scorn that your servants should say that they are wiser than you in the things of this world; and yet I am bold to say that many of them are wiser than you in the things of the world to come, which are of greater concernment. Expostulation. Well, then, sinner, what sayest thou? Where is thy heart? Wilt thou run? Art thou resolved to strip? Or art thou not? Think quickly, man; have no dallying in this matter. Confer not with flesh and blood; look up to heaven, and see how thou likest it; also to hell, and accordingly devote thyself. If thou dost not know the way, inquire at the Word of God; if thou wantest company, cry for God's Spirit; if thou wantest encouragement, entertain the promises. But be sure thou begin betimes; get into the way, run apace, and hold out to the end; and the Lord give thee a prosperous journey. Farewell. TILLOTSON THE REASONABLENESS OF A RESURRECTION BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Tillotson, archbishop of Canterbury, renowned as a preacher, was born at Sowerby, in Yorkshire, in 1630, the son of an ardent Independent. After graduating from Clare College, Cambridge, he began to preach in 1661, in connection with the Presbyterian wing of the Church of England. He, however, submitted to the Act of Uniformity the following year, and in 1663 was inducted into the rectory of Veddington, Suffolk. He was also appointed preacher to Lincoln's Inn, was made prebendary of Canterbury in 1670 and dean in 1672. William III regarded him with high favor, and he succeeded the nonjuring Sancroft in the arch-see of Canterbury. His sermons are characterized by stateliness, copiousness and lucidity, and were long looked upon as models of correct pulpit style. He died in 1694. TILLOTSON 1630-1694 THE REASONABLENESS OF A RESURRECTION _Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you that God should raise the dead?_--Acts xxvi., 8. The resurrection of the dead is one of the great articles of the Christian faith; and yet so it hath happened that this great article of our religion hath been made one of the chief objections against it. There is nothing that Christianity hath been more upbraided for withal, both by the heathens of old and by the infidels of later times, than the impossibility of this article; so that it is a matter of great consideration and consequence to vindicate our religion in this particular. But if the thing be evidently impossible, then it is highly unreasonable to propose it to the belief of mankind. I know that some, more devout than wise, and who, it is to be hoped, mean better than they understand, make nothing of impossibilities in matters of faith, and would fain persuade us that the more impossible anything is, for that very reason it is the fitter to be believed; and that it is an argument of a poor and low faith to believe only things that are possible; but a generous and heroical faith will swallow contradictions with as much ease as reason assents to the plainest and most evident propositions. Tertullian, in the heat of his zeal and eloquence, upon this point of the death and resurrection of Christ, lets fall a very odd passage, and which must have many grains of allowance to make it tolerable: "_prosus credible est_ (saith he), _quia ineptum est; certum est, quia impossible_--it is therefore very credible, because it is foolish, and certain, because it is impossible"; "and this (says he) is _necessarium dedecus fidei_," that is, "it is necessary the Christian faith should be thus disgraced by the belief of impossibilities and contradictions." I suppose he means that this article of the resurrection was not in itself the less credible because the heathen philosophers caviled at it as a thing impossible and contradictious, and endeavored to disgrace the Christian religion upon that account. For if he meant otherwise, that the thing was therefore credible because it was really and in itself foolish and impossible; this had been to recommend the Christian religion from the absurdity of the things to be believed; which would be a strange recommendation of any religion to the sober and reasonable part of mankind. I know not what some men may find in themselves; but I must freely acknowledge that I could never yet attain to that bold and hardy degree of faith as to believe anything for this reason, because it was impossible: for this would be to believe a thing to be because I am sure it can not be. So that I am very far from being of his mind, that wanted not only more difficulties, but even impossibilities in the Christian religion, to exercise his faith upon. Leaving to the Church of Rome that foolhardiness of faith, to believe things to be true which at the same time their reason plainly tells them are impossible, I shall at this time endeavor to assert and vindicate this article of the resurrection from the pretended impossibility of it. And I hope, by God's assistance, to make the possibility of the thing so plain as to leave no considerable scruple about it in any free and unprejudiced mind. And this I shall do from these words of St. Paul, which are part of the defense which he made for himself before Festus and Agrippa, the substance whereof is this, that he had lived a blameless and inoffensive life among the Jews, in whose religion he had been bred up; that he was of the strictest sect of that religion, a Pharisee, which, in opposition to the Sadducees, maintained the resurrection of the dead and a future state of rewards and punishments in another life; and that for the hope of this he was called in question, and accused by the Jews. "And now I stand here, and am judged, for the hope of the promise made unto the fathers; unto which promise our twelve scribes, instantly serving God day and night, hope to come; for which hope's sake, King Agrippa, I am accused of the Jews." That is, he was accused for preaching that Jesus was risen from the dead, which is a particular instance of the general doctrine of the resurrection which was entertained by the greatest part of the Jews, and which to the natural reason of mankind (however the heathen in opposition to the Christian religion were prejudiced against it), hath nothing in it that is incredible. And for this he appeals to his judges, Festus and Agrippa: "why should it be thought a thing incredible with you that God should raise the dead?" Which words being a question without an answer, imply in them these two propositions: First, That it was thought by some a thing incredible that the dead should be raised. This is supposed in the question, as the foundation of it: for he who asks why a thing is so, supposeth it to be so. Secondly, That this apprehension, that it is a thing incredible that God should raise the dead, is very unreasonable. For the question being left unanswered, implies its own answer, and is to be resolved into this affirmative, that there is no reason why they or any man else should think it a thing incredible that God should raise the dead. I shall speak to these two propositions as briefly as I can; and then show what influence this doctrine of the resurrection ought to have upon our lives. First, that it was thought by some a thing incredible that God should raise the dead. This St. Paul has reason to suppose, having from his own experience found men so averse from the entertaining of this doctrine. When he preached to the philosophers at Athens, and declared to them the resurrection of one Jesus from the dead, they were amazed at this new doctrine, and knew not what he meant by it. They said, "he seemeth to be a setter forth of strange gods, because he preached unto them Jesus and the resurrection." He had discoursed to them of the resurrection of one Jesus from the dead; but this business of the resurrection of one Jesus from the dead was a thing so remote from their apprehensions that they had no manner of conception of it; but understood him quite in another sense, as if he had declared to them two new deities, Jesus and Anastasis; as if he had brought a new god and a new goddess among them, Jesus and the Resurrection. And when he discoursed to them again more fully of this matter, it is said that, "when they heard of the resurrection of the dead, they mocked." And at the twenty-fourth verse of this twenty-sixth chapter, when he spake of the resurrection, Festus told him he would hear him no further, and that he looked upon him as a man beside himself, whom much learning had made mad. Festus looked upon this business of the resurrection as the wild speculation of a crazy head. And indeed the heathens generally, even those who believed the immortality of the soul, and another state after this life, looked upon the resurrection of the body as a thing impossible. Pliny, I remember, reckons it among those things which are impossible, and which God himself can not do; "_revocare defunctos_, to call back the dead to life"; and in the primitive times the heathen philosophers very much derided the Christians, upon account of this strange doctrine of the resurrection, looking always upon this article of their faith as a ridiculous and impossible assertion. So easy it is for prejudice to blind the minds of men, and to represent everything to them which hath a great appearance of difficulty in it as impossible. But I shall endeavor to show that if the matter be thoroughly examined, there is no ground for any such apprehension. I proceed therefore to the second proposition, namely, that this apprehension, that it is an incredible thing that God should raise the dead, is very unreasonable: "why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, that God should raise the dead?" That is, there is no sufficient reason why any man should look upon the resurrection of the dead as a thing impossible to the power of God; the only reason why they thought it incredible being because they judged it impossible; so that nothing can be vainer than for men to pretend to believe the resurrection; and yet at the same time to grant it to be a thing in reason impossible, because no man can believe that which he thinks to be incredible; and the impossibility of a thing is the best reason any man can have to think a thing incredible. So that the meaning of St. Paul's question is, "why should it be thought a thing impossible that God should raise the dead?" To come then to the business: I shall endeavor to show that there is no sufficient reason why men should look upon the resurrection of the dead as a thing impossible to God. "Why should it be thought a thing incredible (that is, impossible) with you, that God should raise the dead?" which question implies in it these three things: 1. That it is above the power of nature to raise the dead. 2. But it is not above the power of God to raise the dead. 3. That God should be able to do this is by no means incredible to natural reason. First. This question implies that it is above the power of nature to raise the dead; and therefore the apostle puts the question very cautiously, "why should it be thought incredible that God should raise the dead?" by which he seems to grant that it is impossible to any natural power to raise the dead; which is granted on all hands. Secondly. But this question does plainly imply that it is not above the power of God to do this. Tho the raising of the dead to life be a thing above the power of nature, yet why should it be thought incredible that God, who is the author of nature, should be able to do this? and indeed the apostle's putting the question in this manner takes away the main ground of the objection against the resurrection from the impossibility of the thing. For the main reason why it was looked upon as impossible was, because it was contrary to the course of nature that there should be any return from a perfect privation to a habit, and that a body perfectly dead should be restored to life again: but for all this no man that believes in a God who made the world, and this natural frame of things, but must think it very reasonable to believe that He can do things far above the power of anything that He hath made. Thirdly. This question implies that it is not a thing incredible to natural reason that God should be able to raise the dead. I do not say that by natural light we can discover that God will raise the dead; for that, depending merely upon the will of God, can no otherwise be certainly known than by divine revelation: but that God can do this is not at all incredible to natural reason. And this is sufficiently implied in the question which St. Paul asks, in which he appeals to Festus and Agrippa, neither of them Christians, "why should it be thought a thing incredible with you that God should raise the dead?" And why should he appeal to them concerning the credibility of this matter if it be a thing incredible to natural reason? That it is not, I shall first endeavor to prove, and then to answer the chief objections against the possibility of it. And I prove it thus: it is not incredible to natural reason that God made the world, and all the creatures in it; that mankind is His offspring; and that He gives us life and breath, and all things. This was acknowledged and firmly believed by many of the heathens. And indeed, whoever believes that the being of God may be known by natural light, must grant that it may be known by the natural light of reason that God made the world; because one of the chief arguments of the being of God is taken from those visible effects of wisdom, and power, and goodness, which we see in the frame of the world. Now He that can do the greater can undoubtedly do the less; He that made all things of nothing, can much more raise a body out of dust; He who at first gave life to so many inanimate beings, can easily restore that which is dead to life again. It is an excellent saying of one of the Jewish rabbis: He who made that which was not, to be, can certainly make that which was once, to be again. This hath the force of a demonstration; for no man that believes that God hath done the one, can make any doubt but that He can, if He please, do the other. This seems to be so very clear, that they must be strong objections indeed, that can render it incredible. There are but two that I know of, that are of any consideration, and I shall not be afraid to represent them to you with their utmost advantage; and they are these: First, against the resurrection in general: it is pretended impossible, after the bodies of men are resolved into dust, to re-collect all the dispersed parts and bring them together, to be united into one body. The second is leveled against a resurrection in some particular instances, and pretends it to be impossible in some cases only--viz., when that which was the matter of one man's body does afterward become the matter of another man's body; in which case, say they, it is impossible that both these should, at the resurrection, each have his own body. The difficulty of both these objections is perfectly avoided by those who hold that it is not necessary that our bodies at the resurrection should consist of the very same parts of matter that they did before. There being no such great difference between one parcel of dust and another; neither in respect of the power of God, which can easily command this parcel of dust as that to become a living body and being united to a living soul to rise up and walk; so that the miracle of the resurrection will be all one in the main, whether our bodies be made of the very same matter they were before, or not; nor will there be any difference as to us; for whatever matter our bodies be made of, when they are once reunited to our souls, they will be then as much our own as if they had been made of the very same matter of which they consisted before. Besides that, the change which the resurrection will make in our bodies will be so great that we could not know them to be the same, tho they were so. Now upon this supposition, which seems philosophical enough, the force of both these objections is wholly declined. But there is no need to fly to this refuge; and therefore I will take this article of the resurrection in the strictest sense for the raising of a body to life, consisting of the same individual matter that it did before; and in this sense, I think, it has generally been received by Christians, not without ground, from Scripture. I will only mention one text, which seems very strongly to imply it: "and the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and the grave delivered up the dead which, were in them; and they were judged every man according to his works." Now why should the sea and the grave be said to deliver up their dead, if there were not a resurrection of the same body; for any dust formed into a living body and united to the soul, would serve the turn? We will therefore take it for granted that the very same body will be raised, and I doubt not, even in this sense, to vindicate the possibility of the resurrection from both these objections. First, against the resurrection in general of the same body; it is pretended impossible, after the bodies of men are moldered into dust, and by infinite accidents have been scattered up and down the world, and have undergone a thousand changes, to re-collect and rally together the very same parts of which they consisted before. This the heathens used to object to the primitive Christians; for which reason they also used to burn the bodies of the martyrs, and to scatter their ashes in the air, to be blown about by the wind, in derision of their hopes of a resurrection. I know not how strong malice might make this objection to appear; but surely in reason it is very weak; for it wholly depends upon a gross mistake of the nature of God and his providence, as if it did not extend to the smallest things; as if God did not know all things that He hath made, and had them not always in His view, and perfectly under His command; and as if it were a trouble and burden to infinite knowledge and power to understand and order the least things; whereas infinite knowledge and power can know and manage all things with as much ease as we can understand and order any one thing; so that this objection is grounded upon a low and false apprehension of the Divine nature, and is only fit for Epicurus and his herd, who fancied to themselves a sort of slothful and unthinking deities, whose happiness consisted in their laziness, and a privilege to do nothing. I proceed therefore to the second objection, which is more close and pressing; and this is leveled against the resurrection in some particular instances. I will mention but two, by which all the rest may be measured and answered. One is, of those who are drowned in the sea, and their bodies eaten up by fishes, and turned into their nourishment: and those fishes perhaps eaten afterward by men, and converted into the substance of their bodies. The other is of the cannibals; some of whom, as credible relations tell us, have lived wholly or chiefly on the flesh of men; and consequently the whole, or the greater part of the substance of their bodies is made of the bodies of other men. In these and the like cases, wherein one man's body is supposed to be turned into the substance of another man's body, how should both these at the resurrection each recover his own body? So that this objection is like that of the Sadducees to our Savior, concerning a woman that had seven husbands: they ask, "whose wife of the seven shall she be at the resurrection?" So here, when several have had the same body, whose shall it be at the resurrection? and how shall they be supplied that have it not? This is the objection; and in order to the answering of it, I shall premise these two things: 1. That the body of man is not a constant and permanent thing, always continuing in the same state, and consisting of the same matter; but a successive thing, which is continually spending and continually renewing itself, every day losing something of the matter which it had before, and gaining new; so that most men have new bodies oftener than they have new clothes; only with this difference, that we change our clothes commonly at once, but our bodies by degrees. And this is undeniably certain from experience. For so much as our bodies grow, so much new matter is added to them, over and beside the repairing of what is continually spent; and after a man come to his full growth, so much of his food as every day turns into nourishment, so much of his yesterday's body is usually wasted, and carried off by insensible perspiration--that is, breathed out at the pores of his body; which, according to the static experiment of Sanctorius, a learned physician, who, for several years together, weighed himself exactly every day, is (as I remember) according to the proportion of five to eight of all that a man eats and drinks. Now, according to this proportion, every man must change his body several times in a year. It is true indeed the more solid parts of the body, as the bones, do not change so often as the fluid and fleshy; but that they also do change is certain, because they grow, and whatever grows is nourished and spends, because otherwise it would not need to be repaired. 2. The body which a man hath at any time of his life is as much his own body as that which he hath at his death; so that if the very matter of his body which a man had at any time of his life be raised, it is as much his own and the same body as that which he had at his death, and commonly much more perfect; because they who die of lingering sickness or old age are usually mere skeletons when they die; so that there is no reason to suppose that the very matter of which our bodies consists at the time of our death shall be that which shall be raised, that being commonly the worst and most imperfect body of all the rest. These two things being premised, the answer to this objection can not be difficult. For as to the more solid and firm parts of the body, as the skull and bones, it is not, I think, pretended that the cannibals eat them; and if they did, so much of the matter even of these solid parts wastes away in a few years, as being collected together would supply them many times over. And as for the fleshy and fluid parts, these are so very often changed and renewed that we can allow the cannibals to eat them all up, and to turn them all into nourishment, and yet no man need contend for want of a body of his own at the resurrection--viz., any of those bodies which he had ten or twenty years before; which are every whit as good and as much his own as that which was eaten. Having thus shown that the resurrection is not a thing incredible to natural reason, I should now proceed to show the certainty of it from divine revelation. For as reason tells us it is not impossible, so the word of God hath assured us that it is certain. The texts of Scripture are so many and clear to this purpose, and so well known to all Christians, that I will produce none. I shall only tell you that as it is expressly revealed in the gospel, so our blest Savior, for the confirmation of our faith and the comfort and encouragement of our hope, hath given us the experiment of it in his own resurrection, which is "the earnest and first-fruits of ours." So St. Paul tells us that "Christ is risen from the dead, and become the first-fruits of them that slept" And that Christ did really rise from the dead, we have as good evidence as for any ancient matter of fact which we do most firmly believe; and more and greater evidence than this the thing is not capable of; and because it is not, no reasonable man ought to require it. Now what remains but to conclude this discourse with those practical inferences which our apostle makes from this doctrine of the resurrection; and I shall mention these two: The first for our support and comfort under the infirmities and miseries of this mortal life. The second for the encouragement of obedience and a good life. 1. For our comfort and support under the infirmities and miseries of this mortal state. The consideration of the glorious change of our bodies at the resurrection of the just can not but be a great comfort to us, under all bodily pain and sufferings. One of the greatest burdens of human nature is the frailty and infirmity of our bodies, the necessities they are frequently prest withal, the manifold diseases they are liable to, and the dangers and terrors of death, to which they are continually subject and enslaved. But the time is coming, if we be careful to prepare ourselves for it, when we shall be clothed with other kind of bodies, free from all the miseries and inconveniences which flesh and blood is subject to. For "these vile bodies shall be changed, and fashioned like to the glorious body of the Son of God." When our bodies shall be raised to a new life, they shall become incorruptible; "for this corruptible shall put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality; and then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, death is swallowed up in victory." When this last enemy is conquered, there shall be no "fleshly lusts" nor brutish passions "to fight against the soul; no law in our members to war against the laws of our minds"; no disease to torment us; no danger of death to amaze and terrify us. Then all the passions and appetites of our outward man shall be subject to the reason of our minds, and our bodies shall partake of the immortality of our souls. It is but a very little while that our spirits shall be crusht and clogged with these heavy and sluggish bodies; at the resurrection they shall be refined from all dregs of corruption, and become spiritual, and incorruptible, and glorious, and every way suited to the activity and perfection of a glorified soul and the "spirits of just men made perfect." 2. For the encouragement of obedience and a good life. Let the belief of this great article of our faith have the same influence upon us which St. Paul tells it had upon him. "I have hope toward God that there shall be a resurrection of the dead, both of the just and unjust; and herein do I exercise myself always to have a conscience void of offense toward God and toward man." The firm belief of a resurrection to another life should make every one of us very careful how we demean ourselves in this life, and afraid to do anything or to neglect anything that may defeat our hopes of a blest immortality, and expose us to the extreme and endless misery of body and soul in another life. Particularly, it should be an argument to us, "to glorify God in our bodies and in our spirits"; and to use the members of the one and the faculties of the other as "instruments of righteousness unto holiness." We should reverence ourselves, and take heed not only how we defile our souls by sinful passions, but how we dishonor our bodies by sensual and brutish lusts; since God hath designed so great an honor and happiness for both at the resurrection. So often as we think of a blest resurrection to eternal life, and the happy consequences of it, the thought of so glorious a reward should make us diligent and unwearied in the service of so good a Master and so great a Prince, who can and will prefer us to infinitely greater honors than any that are to be had in this world. This inference the apostle makes from the doctrine of the resurrection. "Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord; for as much as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord." Nay, we may begin this blest state while we are upon earth, by "setting our hearts and affections upon the things that are above, and having our conversation in heaven, from whence also we look for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our vile bodies, that they may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself." "Now the God of peace, who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus Christ, the great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make us perfect in every good work to do his will, working in us always that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever. Amen." HOWE THE REDEEMER'S TEARS OVER LOST SOULS BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Howe, a leading writer and divine under the Commonwealth, was born in 1630, at Loughborough, in Leicestershire, England. He was educated at Cambridge and Oxford, and ordained by Charles Herle, rector of Winwick, whom he styled, "a primitive bishop." He became chaplain to Cromwell and his son Richard. Among his contributions to Puritan theology are "The Good Man the Living Temple of God," and "Vanity of Men as Mortal," He was a man of intellect and imagination. His sermons, tho often long and cumbersome, are marked by warmth of fancy and a sublimity of spirit superior to his style. Howe was a leading spirit in the effort made for the union of the Congregational and Presbyterian bodies. He died in 1705. HOWE 1630-1705 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS OVER LOST SOULS _And when He was come near, He beheld the city, and wept over it, saying, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong to thy peace! But now they are hid from thine eyes_.--Luke six., 41, 42. Such as live tinder the gospel have a day, or a present opportunity, for the obtaining the knowledge of those things immediately belonging to their peace, and of whatsoever is besides necessary thereunto. I say nothing what opportunities they have who never lived under the gospel, who yet no doubt might generally know more than they do, and know better what they do know. It suffices who enjoy the gospel to understand our own advantages thereby. Nor, as to those who do enjoy it, is every one's day of equal clearness. How few, in comparison, have ever seen such a day as Jerusalem at this time did I made by the immediate beams of the Sun of Righteousness! our Lord Himself vouchsafing to be their Instructor, so speaking as never man did, and with such authority as far outdid their other teachers, and astonished the hearers. In what transports did He use to leave those that heard Him, wheresoever He came, wondering at the gracious words that came out of His mouth! And with what mighty and beneficial works was He went to recommend His doctrine, shining in the glorious power and savoring of the abundant mercy of Heaven, so that every apprehensive mind might see the Deity was incarnate. God was come down to entreat with men, and allure them into the knowledge and love of Himself. The Word was made flesh. What unprejudiced mind might not perceive it to be so? He was there manifested and vailed at once; both expressions are made concerning the same matter. The divine beams were somewhat obscured, but did yet ray through that vail; so that His glory was beheld of the only-begotten Son of His Father, full of grace and truth. This Sun shone with a mild and benign, but with a powerful, vivifying light. In Him was life, and that life was the light of men. Such a light created unto the Jews this their day. Happy Jews, if they had understood their own happiness! And the days that followed to them (for a while) and the Gentile world were not inferior, in some respects brighter and more glorious (the more copious gift of the Holy Ghost being reserved unto the crowning and enthroning of the victorious Redeemer), when the everlasting gospel flew like lightning to the uttermost ends of the earth, and the word which began to be spoken by the Lord Himself was confirmed by them that heard Him, God also Himself bearing them witness with signs, and wonders, and gifts of the Holy Ghost. No such day hath been seen this many an age. Yet whithersoever this same gospel, for substance, comes, it also makes a day of the same kind, and affords always true tho diminished light, whereby, however, the things of our peace might be understood and known. The written gospel varies not, and if it be but simply and plainly proposed tho to some it be proposed with more advantage, to some with less, still we have the same things immediately relating to our peace extant before our eyes ... This day hath its bounds and limits, so that when it is over and lost with such, the things of their peace are forever hid from their eyes. And that this day is not infinite and endless, we see in the present instance. Jerusalem had her day; but that day had its period, we see it comes to this at last, that now the things of her peace are hid from her eyes. We generally see the same thing, in that sinners are so earnestly prest to make use of the present time. To-day if you will hear His voice, harden not your hearts. They are admonished to seek the Lord while He may be found, to call upon Him when He is nigh. It seems some time He will not be found, and will be far off. They are told this is the accepted time, this is the day of salvation ... As it is certain death ends the day of grace with every unconverted person, soit is very possible that it may end with divers before they die; by their total loss of all external means, or by the departure of the blest Spirit of God from them; so as to return and visit them no more. How the day of grace may end with a person, is to be understood by considering what it is that makes up and constitutes such a day. There must become measure and proportion of time to make up this (or any) day, which is as the substratum and ground fore-laid. Then there must be light superadded, otherwise it differs not from night, which may have the same measure of mere time. The gospel revelation some way or other, must be had, as being the light of such a day. And again there must be some degree of liveliness, and vital influence, the more usual concomitant of light; the night doth more dispose men to drowsiness. The same sun that enlightens the world disseminates also an invigorating influence. If the Spirit of the living God do no way animate the gospel revelation, and breathe in it, we have no day of grace. It is not only a day of light, but a day of power, wherein souls can be wrought upon, and a people made willing to become the Lord's. As the Redeemer revealed in the gospel, is the light of the world, so He is life to it too, tho neither are planted or do take root everywhere. In Him was life and that life was the light of men. That light that rays from Him is vital light in itself, and in its tendency and design, tho it be disliked and not entertained by the most. Whereas therefore these things must concur to make up such a day; if either a man's time, his life on earth, expire, or if light quite fail him, or if all gracious influence be withheld, so as to be communicated no more, his day is done, the season of grace is over with him. Now it is plain that many a one may lose the gospel before his life end; and possible that all gracious influence may be restrained, while as yet the external dispensation of the gospel remains. A sinner may have hardened his heart to that degree that God will attempt him no more, in any kind, with any design of kindness to him, not in that more inward, immediate way at all--_i.e._, by the motions of His Spirit, which peculiarly can impart nothing but friendly inclination, as whereby men are personally applied unto, so that can not be meant; nor by the voice of the gospel, which may either be continued for the sake of others, or they contained under it, but for their heavier doom at length. Which, tho it may seem severe, is not to be thought strange, much less unrighteous. It is not to be thought strange to them that read the Bible, which so often speaks this sense; as when it warns and threatens men with so much terror. For if we sin wilfully after that we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a fearful looking for judgment, and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries. He that despised Moses's law died without mercy, under two or three witnesses; of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewith He was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the Spirit of grace? And when It tells us, after many overtures made to men in vain, of His having given them up. "But my people would not hearken to my voice; and Israel would none of me; so I gave them up unto their own hearts' lust: and they walked in their own counsels;" and pronounces, "Let him that is unjust be unjust still, and let him which is filthy be filthy still," and says, "In thy filthiness is lewdness, because I have purged thee, and thou wast not purged; thou shalt not be purged from thy filthiness any more, till I have caused my fury to rest upon thee." Which passages seem to imply a total desertion of them, and retraction of all gracious influence. And when it speaks of letting them be under the gospel, and the ordinary means of salvation, for the most direful purpose: as that, "This child (Jesus) was set for the fall, as well as for the rising, of many in Israel"; as that, "Behold, I lay in Zion a stumbling, and a rock of offense"; and, "The stone which the builders refused, is made a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense, even to them which, stumble at the word, being disobedient, whereunto also they were appointed"; with that of our Savior Himself, "For judgment I am come into this world, that they which see not might see; and that they which see, might be made blind." And most agreeable to those former places is that of the prophet, "But the word of the Lord was unto them precept upon precept, line upon line, here a little and there a little; that they might go, and fall backward, and be broken, and snared, and taken." And we may add, that our God hath put us out of doubt that there is such a sin as that which is eminently called the sin against the Holy Ghost; that a man in such circumstances, and to such a degree, sin against that Spirit, that He will never move or breathe upon him more, but leave him to a hopeless ruin; tho I shall not in this discourse determine or discuss the nature of it. But I doubt not it is somewhat else than final impenitency and infidelity; and that every one that dies, not having sincerely repented and believed, is not guilty of it, tho every one that is guilty of it dies impenitent and unbelieving, but was guilty of it before; so it is not the mere want of time that makes him guilty. Whereupon, therefore, that such may outlive their day of grace, is out of the question ... Wherefore, no man can certainly know, or ought to conclude, concerning himself or others, as long as they live, that the season of grace is quite over with them. As we can conceive no rule God hath set to Himself to proceed by, in ordinary cases of this nature; so nor is there any He hath set unto us to judge by, in this case. It were to no purpose, and could be of no use to men to know so much; therefore it were unreasonable to expect God should have settled and declared any rule, by which they might come to the knowledge of it. As the case is then, viz.: there being no such rule, no such thing can be concluded; for who can tell what an arbitrary, sovereign, free agent will do, if he declare not his own purpose himself? How should it be known, when the Spirit of God hath been often working upon the soul of man, that this or that shall be the last act, and that he will never put forth another? And why should God make it known? To the person himself whose case it is, 'tis manifest it could be of no benefit. Nor is it to be thought the Holy God will ever so alter the course of His own proceedings but that it shall be finally seen to all the world that every man's destruction was entirely, and to the last, of himself. If God had made it evident to a man that he were finally rejected, he were obliged to believe it. But shall it ever be said, God hath made anything a man's duty which were inconsistent with his felicity. The having sinned himself into such a condition wherein he is forsaken of God is indeed inconsistent with it. And so the case is to stand--_i.e._, that his perdition be in immediate connection with his sin, not with his duty; as it would be in immediate, necessary connection with his duty, if he were bound to believe himself finally forsaken and a lost creature. For that belief makes him hopeless, and a very devil, justifies his unbelief in the gospel, toward himself, by removing and shutting up, toward himself, the object of such a faith, and consequently brings the matter to this state that he perishes, not because he doth not believe God reconcilable to man, but because, with particular application to himself, he ought not so to believe. And it were most unfit, and of very pernicious consequence, that such a thing should be generally known concerning others.... But tho none ought to conclude that their day or season of grace is quite expired, yet they ought to deeply apprehend the danger, lest it should expire before their necessary work be done and their peace made. For tho it can be of no use for them to know the former, and therefore they have no means appointed them by which to know it, 'tis of great use to apprehend the latter; and they have sufficient ground for the apprehension. All the cautions and warnings wherewith the Holy Spirit abounds, of the kind with those already mentioned, have that manifest design. And nothing can be more important, or opposite to this purpose, than that solemn charge of the great apostle: "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling"; considered together with the subjoined ground of it; "For it is God that worketh in you to will and to do of his own good pleasure." How correspondent is the one with the other; work for He works: there were no working at all to any purpose, or with any hope, if He did not work. And work with fear and trembling, for He works of His own good pleasure, q.d., "'Twere the greatest folly imaginable to trifle with One that works at so perfect liberty, under no obligation, that may desist when He will; to impose upon so absolutely sovereign and arbitrary an Agent, that owes you nothing; and from whose former gracious operations not complied with you can draw no argument, unto any following ones, that because He doth, therefore He will. As there is no certain connection between present time and future, but all time is made up of undepending, not strictly coherent, moments, so as no man can be sure, because one now exists, another shall; there is also no more certain connection between the arbitrary acts of a free agent within such time; so that I can not be sure, because He now darts in light upon me, is now convincing me, now awakening me, therefore He will still do so, again and again." Upon this ground then, what exhortation could be more proper than this? "Work out your salvation with fear and trembling." What could be more awfully monitory and enforcing of it than that He works only of mere good will and pleasured How should I tremble to think, if I should be negligent, or undutiful, He may give out the next moment, may let the work fall, and me perish? And there is more especial cause for such an apprehension upon the concurrence of such things as these: 1. If the workings of God's Spirit upon the soul of a man have been more than ordinarily strong and urgent, and do not now cease: if there have been more powerful convictions, deeper humiliations, more awakened fears, more formed purposes of a new life, more fervent desires that are now vanished, and the sinner returns to his dead and dull temper. 2. If there be no disposition to reflect and consider the difference, no sense of his loss, but he apprehends such workings of spirit in him unnecessary troubles to him, and thinks it well he is delivered and eased of them. 3. If in the time when he was under such workings of the Spirit he had made known his case to his minister, or any godly friend, whose company he now shuns, as not willing to be put in mind, or hear any more of such matters. 4. If, hereupon he hath more indulged sensual inclination, taken more liberty, gone against the check of his own conscience, broken former good resolutions, involved himself in the guilt of any grosser sins. 5. If conscience, so baffled, be now silent, lets him alone, grows more sluggish and weaker, which it must as his lusts grow stronger. 6. If the same lively, powerful ministry which before affected him much, now moves him not. 7. If especially he is grown into a dislike of such preaching--if serious godliness, and what tends to it, are become distasteful to him--if discourses of God, and of Christ, of death and judgment, and of a holy life, are reckoned superflous and needless, are unsavory and disrelished--if he have learned to put disgraceful names upon things of this import, and the persons that most value them live accordingly--if he hath taken the seat of the scorner, and makes it his business to deride what he had once a reverence for, or took some complacency in. 8. If, upon all this, God withdraw such a ministry, so that he is now warned, admonished, exhorted and striven with, as formerly, no more. Oh, the fearful danger of that man's case! Hath he no cause to fear lest the things of his peace should be forever hid from his eyes? Surely he hath much cause of fear, but mot of despair. Fear in this case would be his great duty, and might yet prove the means of saving him--despair would be his very heinous and destroying sin. If yet he would be stirred up to consider his case, whence he is fallen, and whither he is falling, and set himself to serious seekings of God, cast down himself before Him, abase himself, cry for mercy as for his life, there is yet hope in his case. God may make here an instance what He can obtain of Himself to do for a perishing wretch. But if with any that have lived under the gospel, their day is quite expired, and the things of their peace now forever hid from their eyes, this is in itself a most deplorable case, and much lamented by our Lord Jesus Himself. That the case is in itself most deplorable, who sees not? A soul lost! a creature capable of God! upon its way to Him! near to the kingdom of God! shipwrecked in the port! Oh, sinner, from how high a hope art thou fallen! into what depths of misery and we! And that it was lamented by our Lord is in the text. He beheld the city (very generally, we have reason to apprehend, inhabited by such wretched creatures) and wept over it. This was a very affectionate lamentation. We lament often, very heartily, many a sad case for which we do not shed tears. But tears, such tears, falling from such eyes! the issues of the purest and best-governed passion that ever was, showed the true greatness of the cause. Here could be no exorbitancy or unjust excess, nothing more than was proportional to the occasion. There needs no other proof that this is a sad case than that our Lord lamented it with tears, which that He did we are plainly told, so that, touching that, there is no place for doubt. All that is liable to question is, whether we are to conceive in Him any like resentments of such cases, in His present glorified state? Indeed, we can not think heaven a place or state of sadness or lamentation, and must take heed of conceiving anything there, especially on the throne of glory, unsuitable to the most perfect nature, and the most glorious state. We are not to imagine tears there, which, in that happy region are wiped away from inferior eyes--no grief, sorrow, or sighing, which are all fled away, and shall be no more, as there can be no other turbid passion of any kind. But when expressions that import anger or grief are used, even concerning God Himself, we must sever in our conception everything of imperfection, and ascribe everything of real perfection. We are not to think such expressions signify nothing, that they have no meaning, or that nothing at all is to be attributed to Him under them. Nor are we again to think they signify the same thing with what we find in ourselves, and are wont to express by those names. In the divine nature there may be real, and yet most serene, complacency and displacency--viz., that, unaccompanied by the least commotion, that impart nothing of imperfection, but perfection rather, as it is a perfection to apprehend things suitably to what in themselves they are. The holy Scriptures frequently speak of God as angry, and grieved for the sins of men, and their miseries which ensue therefrom. And a real aversion and dislike is signified thereby, and by many other expressions, which in us would signify vehement agitations of affection, that we are sure can have no place in Him. We ought, therefore, in our own thoughts to ascribe to Him that calm aversion of will, in reference to the sins and miseries of men in general; and in our own apprehensions to remove to the utmost distance from Him all such agitations of passion or affection, even tho some expressions that occur carry a great appearance thereof, should they be understood according to human measures, as they are human forms of speech. As, to instance in what is said by the glorious God Himself, and very near in sense to what we have in the text, what can be more pathetic than that lamenting wish, "Oh, that my people had hearkened unto me, and Israel had walked in my ways!" But we must take heed lest, under the pretense that we can not ascribe everything to God that such expressions seem to import, we therefore ascribe nothing. We ascribe nothing, if we do not ascribe a real unwillingness that men should sin on, and perish, and consequently a real willingness that they should turn to Him, and live, which so many plain texts assert. And therefore it is unavoidably imposed upon us to believe that God is truly unwilling of some things which He doth not think fit to interpose His omnipotency to hinder, and is truly willing of some things which He doth not put forth His omnipotency to effect. We can not, therefore, doubt but that, 1. He distinctly comprehends the truth of any such case. He beholds, from the throne of His glory above, all the treaties which are held and managed with sinners in His name, and what their deportments are therein. His eyes are as a flame of fire, wherewith He searcheth hearts and trieth reins. He hath seen therefore, sinner, all along every time an offer of grace hath been made to thee, and been rejected; when thou hast slighted counsels and warnings that have been given thee, exhortations and treaties that have been prest upon thee for many years together, and how thou hast hardened thy heart against reproofs and threatenings, against promises and allurements, and beholds the tendency of all this, what is like to come to it, and that, if thou persist, it will be bitterness in the end. 2. That He hath a real dislike of the sinfulness of thy course. It is not indifferent to Him whether thou obeyest or disobeyest the gospel, whether thou turn and repent or no; that He is truly displeased at thy trifling, sloth, negligence, impenitency, hardness of heart, stubborn obstinacy, and contempt of His grace, and takes real offense at them. 3. He hath real kind propensions toward thee, and is ready to receive thy returning soul, and effectually to mediate with the offended majesty of Heaven for thee, as long as there is any hope in thy case. 4. When He sees there is no hope, He pities thee, while thou seest it not, and dost not pity thyself. Pity and mercy above are not names only; 'tis a great reality that is signified by them, and that hath place here in far higher excellency and perfection than it can with us poor mortals here below. Ours is but borrowed and participated from that first fountain and original above. Thou dost not perish unlamented even with the purest heavenly pity, tho thou hast made thy case incapable of remedy; as the well tempered judge bewails the sad end of the malefactor, whom justice obliges him not to spare or save. And that thou mayst not throw away thy soul and so great a hope, through mere sloth and loathness to be at some pains for thy life, let the text, which hath been thy directory about the things that belong to thy peace, be also thy motive, as it gives thee to behold the Son of God weeping over such as would not know those things. Shall not the Redeemer's tears move thee? O hard heart! Consider what these tears import to this purpose. 1. They signify the real depth and greatness of the misery into which thou are falling. They drop from an intellectual and most comprehensive eye, that sees far and pierces deep into things, hath a wide and large prospect; takes the comfort of that forlorn state into which unreconcilable sinners are hastening, in all the horror of it. The Son of God did not weep vain and causeless tears, or for a light matter; nor did He for Himself either spend His own or desire the profusion of others' tears. "Weep not for me, O daughters of Jerusalem," etc. He knows the value of souls, the weight of guilt, and how low it will press and sink them; the severity of God's justice and the power of His anger, and what the fearful effects of them will be when they finally fall. If thou understandest not these things thyself, believe Him that did; at least believe His tears. 2. They signify the sincerity of His love and pity, the truth and tenderness of His compassion. Canst thou think His deceitful tears? His, who never knew guile? Was this like the rest of His course? And remember that He who shed tears did, from the same fountain of love and mercy, shed blood too! Was that also done to deceive? Thou makest thyself a very considerable thing indeed, if thou thinkest the Son of God counted it worth His while to weep, and bleed, and die, to deceive thee into a false esteem of Him and His love. But if it be the greatest madness imaginable to entertain any such thought but that His tears were sincere and unartificial, the natural, genuine expression of undissembled benignity and pity, thou art then to consider what love and compassion thou art now sinning against; what bowels thou spurnest; and that if thou perishest, 'tis under such guilt as the devils themselves are not liable to, who never had a Redeemer bleeding for them, nor, that we ever find, weeping over them. 3. They show the remedilessness of thy case if thou persist in impenitency and unbelief till the things of thy peace be quite hid from thine eyes. These tears will then be the last issues of (even defeated) love, of love that is frustrated of its kind design. Thou mayst perceive in these tears the steady, unalterable laws of heaven, the inflexibleness of the divine justice, that holds thee in adamantine bonds, and hath sealed thee up, if thou prove incurably obstinate and impenitent, unto perdition; so that even the Redeemer Himself, He that is mighty to save, can not at length save thee, but only weep over thee, drop tears into thy flame, which assuage it not; but (tho they have another design, even to express true compassion) do yet unavoidably heighten and increase the fervor of it, and will do so to all eternity. He even tells thee, sinner, "Thou hast despised My blood; thou shalt yet have My tears." That would have saved thee, these do only lament thee lost. But the tears wept over others, as lost and past hope, why should they not yet melt thee, while as yet there is hope in thy case? If thou be effectually melted in thy very soul, and looking to Him whom thou hast pierced, dost truly mourn over Him, thou mayst assure thyself the prospect His weeping eye had of lost souls did not include thee. His weeping over thee would argue thy case forlorn and hopeless; thy mourning over Him will make it safe and happy. That it may be so, consider, further, that, 4. They signify how very intent He is to save souls, and how gladly He would save thine, if yet thou wilt accept of mercy while it may be had. For if He weep over them that will not be saved, from the same love that is the spring of these tears, would saving mercies proceed to those that are become willing to receive them. And that love that wept over them that were lost, how will it glory in them that are saved! There His love is disappointed and vexed, crossed in its gracious intendment; but here, having compassed it, how will He joy over thee with singing, and rest in His love! And thou also, instead of being revolved in a like ruin with the unreconciled sinners of old Jerusalem, shalt be enrolled among the glorious citizens of the new, and triumph together with them in glory. BOURDALOUE THE PASSION OF CHRIST BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Louis Bourdaloue was born at Bourges, in 1632. At the age of sixteen he entered the order of the Jesuits and was thoroughly educated in the scholarship, philosophy and theology of the day. He devoted himself entirely to the work of preaching, and was ten times called upon to address Louis XIV and his court from the pulpit as Bossuet's successor. This was an unprecedented record and yet Bourdaloue could adapt his style to any audience, and "mechanics left their shops, merchants their business, and lawyers their court house" to hear him. His high personal character, his simplicity of life, his clear, direct, and logical utterance as an accomplished orator united to make him not only "the preacher of kings but the king of preachers." Retiring from the pulpit late in life he ministered to the sick and to prisoners. He died in Paris, 1704. BOURDALOUE 1632-1704 THE PASSION OF CHRIST _And there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him. But Jesus turning unto them, said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for your selves, and for your children_."--Luke xxiii., 27, 28. The passion of Jesus Christ, however sorrowful and ignominious it may appear to us, must nevertheless have been to Jesus Christ Himself an object of delight, since this God-man, by a wonderful secret of His wisdom and love, has willed that the mystery of it shall be continued and solemnly renewed in His Church until the final consummation of the world. For what is the Eucharist but a perpetual repetition of the Savior's passion, and what has the Savior supposed in instituting it, but that whatever passed at Calvary is not only represented but consummated on our altars? That is to say, that He is still performing the functions of the victim anew, and is every moment virtually sacrificed, as tho it were not sufficient that He should have suffered once; at least that His love, as powerful as it is free, has given to His adorable sufferings that character of perpetuity which they have in the Sacrament, and which renders them so salutary to us. Behold, Christians, what the love of God has devised; but behold, also, what has happened through the malice of men! At the same time that Jesus Christ, in the sacrament of His body, repeats His holy passion in a manner altogether mysterious, men, the false imitators, or rather base corrupters of the works of God, have found means to renew this same passion, not only in a profane, but in a criminal, sacrilegious, and horrible manner! Do not imagine that I speak figuratively. Would to God, Christians, that what I am going to say to you were only a figure, and that you were justified in vindicating yourselves to-day against the horrible expressions which I am obliged to employ! I speak in the literal sense, and you ought to be more affected with this discourse, if what I advance appears to you to be overcharged; for it is by your excesses that it is so, and not by my words. Yes, my dear hearers, the sinners of the age, by the disorders of their lives, renew the bloody and tragic passion of the Son of God in the world; I will venture to say that the sinners of the age cause to the Son of God, even in the state of glory, as many new passions as they have committed outrages against Him by their actions! Apply yourselves to form an idea of them; and in this picture, which will surprize you, recognize what you are, that you may weep bitterly over yourselves! What do we see in the passion of Jesus Christ? A divine Savior betrayed and abandoned by cowardly disciples, persecuted by pontiffs and hypocritical priests, ridiculed and mocked in the palace of Herod by impious courtiers, placed upon a level with Barabbas, and to whom Barabbas is preferred by a blind and inconstant people, exposed to the insults of libertinism, and treated as a mock king by a troop of soldiers equally barbarous and insolent; in fine, crucified by merciless executioners! Behold, in a few words, what is most humiliating and most cruel in the death of the Savior of the world! Then tell me if this is not precisely what we now see, of what we are every day called to be witnesses. Let us resume; and follow me. Betrayed and abandoned by cowardly disciples; such, O divine Savior, has been Thy destiny. But it was not enough that the apostles, the first men whom Thou didst choose for Thine own, in violation of the most holy engagement, should have forsaken Thee in the last scene of Thy life; that one of them should have sold Thee, another renounced Thee, and all disgraced themselves by a flight which was, perhaps, the most sensible of all the wounds that Thou didst feel in dying. This wound must be again opened by a thousand acts of infidelity yet more scandalous. Even in the Christian ages we must see men bearing the character of Thy disciples, and not having the resolution to sustain it; Christians, prevaricators, and deserters from their faith; Christians ashamed of declaring themselves for Thee, not daring to appear what they are, renouncing at least in the exterior what they have profest, flying when they ought to fight; in a word, Christians in form, ready to follow Thee even to the Supper when in prosperity, and while it required no sacrifice, but resolved to abandon Thee in the moment of temptation. It is on your account, and my own, my dear hearers, that I speak, and behold what ought to be the subject of our sorrow. A Savior mortally persecuted by pontiffs and hypocritical priests! Let us not enter, Christians, into the discussion of this article, at which your piety would, perhaps, be offended, and which would weaken or prejudice the respect which you owe to the ministers of the Lord. It belongs to us, my brethren, to meditate to-day on this fact in the spirit of holy compunction; to us consecrated to the ministry of the altars, to us priests of Jesus Christ, whom God has chosen in His Church to be the dispensers of His sacraments. It does not become me to remonstrate in this place. God forbid that I should undertake to judge those who sustain the sacred office! This is not the duty of humility to which my condition calls me. Above all, speaking as I do, before many ministers, the irreprehensible life of whom contributes so much to the edification of the people, I am not yet so infatuated as to make myself the judge, much less the censor of their conduct. But tho it should induce you only to acknowledge the favors with which God prevents you, as a contrast, from the frightful blindness into which He permits others to fall, remember that the priests and the princes of the priests, are those whom the evangelist describes as the authors of the conspiracy formed against the Savior of the world, and of the wickedness committed against Him. Remember that this scandal is notoriously public, and renewed still every day in Christianity. Remember, but with fear and horror, that the greatest persecutors of Jesus Christ are not lay libertines, but wicked priests; and that among the wicked priests, those whose corruption and iniquity are covered with the veil of hypocrisy are His most dangerous and most cruel enemies. A hatred, disguised under the name of zeal, and covered with the specious pretext of observance of the law, was the first movement of the persecution which the Pharisees and the priests raised against the Son of God. Let us fear lest the same passion should blind us! Wretched passion, exclaims St. Bernard, which spreads the venom of its malignity even over the most lovely of the children of men, and which could not see a God upon earth without hating Him! A hatred not only of the prosperity and happiness, but what is yet more strange, of the merit and perfection of others! A cowardly and shameful passion, which, not content with having caused the death of Jesus Christ, continues to persecute Him by rending His mystical body, which is the Church; dividing His members, which are believers; and stifling in their hearts that charity which is the spirit of Christianity! Behold, my brethren, the subtle temptation against which we have to defend ourselves, and under which it is but too common for us to fall! A Redeemer reviled and mocked in the palace of Herod by the impious creatures of his court! This was, without doubt, one of the most sensible insults which Jesus Christ received. But do not suppose, Christians, that this act of impiety ended there. It has passed from the court of Herod, from that prince destitute of religion, into those even of Christian princes. And is not the Savior still a subject of ridicule to the libertine spirits which compose them? They worship Him externally, but internally how do they regard His maxims? What idea have they of His humility, of His poverty, of His sufferings? Is not virtue either unknown or despised? It is not a rash zeal which induces me to speak in this manner; it is what you too often witness, Christians; it is what you perhaps feel in yourselves; and a little reflection upon the manners of the court will convince you that there is nothing that I say which is not confirmed by a thousand examples, and that you yourselves are sometimes unhappy accomplices in these crimes. Herod had often earnestly wished to see Jesus Christ. The reputation which so many miracles had given Him, excited the curiosity of this prince, and he did not doubt but that a man who commanded all nature might strike some wonderful blow to escape from the persecution of His enemies. But the Son of God, who had not been sparing of His prodigies for the salvation of others, spared them for Himself, and would not say a single word about His own safety. He considered Herod and his people as profane persons, with whom he thought it improper to hold any intercourse, and he preferred rather to pass for a fool than to satisfy the false wisdom of the world. As His kingdom was not of this world, as He said to Pilate, it was not at the court that He designed to establish Himself. He knew too well that His doctrine could not be relished in a place where the rules of worldly wisdom only were followed, and where all the miracles which He had performed had not been sufficient to gain men full of love for themselves and intoxicated with their greatness. In this corrupted region they breathe only the air of vanity; they esteem only that which is splendid; they speak only of preferment: and on whatever side we cast our eyes, we see nothing but what either flatters or inflames the ambitious desires of the heart of man. What probability then was there that Jesus Christ, the most humble of all men, should obtain a hearing where only pageantry and pride prevail! If He had been surrounded with honors and riches, He would have found partisans near Herod and in every other place. But as He preached a renunciation of the world both to His disciples and to Himself, let us not be astonished that they treated Him with so much disdain. Such is the prediction of the holy man Job, and which after Him must be accomplished in the person of all the righteous; "the upright man is laughed to scorn." In fact, my dear hearers, you know that, whatever virtue and merit we may possess, they are not enough to procure us esteem at court. Enter it, and appear only like Jesus Christ, clothed with the robe of innocence; only walk with Jesus Christ in the way of simplicity; only speak as Jesus Christ to render testimony to the truth, and you will find that you meet with no better treatment there than Jesus Christ. To be well received there, you must have pomp and splendor. To keep your station there, you must have artifice and intrigue. To be favorably heard there, you must have complaisance and flattery. Then all this is opposed to Jesus Christ; and the court being what it is--that is to say, the kingdom of the prince of this world--it is not surprizing that the kingdom of Jesus Christ can not be established there. But wo to you, princes of the earth! Wo to you, men of the world, who despise this incarnate wisdom, for you shall be despised in your turn, and the contempt which shall fall upon you shall be much more terrible than the contempt which you manifest can be prejudicial. A Savior placed upon a level with Barabbas, and to whom Barabbas is preferred by a blind and fickle rabble! How often have we been guilty of the same outrage against Jesus Christ as the blind and fickle Jews! How often, after having received Him in triumph in the sacrament of the communion, seduced by cupidity, have we not preferred either a pleasure or interest after which we sought, in violation of His law, to this God of glory! How often divided between conscience which governed us, and passion which corrupted us, have we not renewed this abominable judgment, this unworthy preference of the creature even above our God! Christians, observe this application; it is that of St. Chrysostom, and if you properly understand it, you must be affected by it. Conscience, which, in spite of ourselves, presides in us as judge, said inwardly to us, "What art thou going to do? Behold thy pleasure on the one hand, and thy God on the other: for which of the two dost thou declare thyself? for thou canst not save both; thou must either lose thy pleasure or thy God; and it is for thee to decide." And the passion, which by a monstrous infidelity had acquired the influence over our hearts, made us conclude--I will keep my pleasure. "But what then will become of thy God," replied conscience secretly, "and what must I do, I, who can not prevent myself from maintaining His interests against thee?" I care not what will become of my God, answered passion insolently; I will satisfy myself, and the resolution is taken. "But dost thou know," proceeded conscience by its remorse, "that in indulging thyself in this pleasure it will at last submit thy Savior to death and crucifixion for thee?" It is of no consequence if He be crucified, provided I can have my enjoyments. "But what evil has He done, and what reason hast thou to abandon Him in this manner?" My pleasure is my reason; and since Christ is the enemy of my pleasure, and my pleasure crucifies Him, I say it again, let Him be crucified. Behold, my dear hearers, what passes every day in the consciences of men, and what passes in you and in me, every time that we fall into sin, which causes death to Jesus Christ, as well as to our souls! Behold what makes the enormity and wickedness of this sin! I know that we do not always speak, that we do not always explain ourselves in such express terms and in so perceptible a manner; but after all, without explaining ourselves so distinctly and so sensibly, there is a language of the heart which says all this. For, from the moment that I know that this pleasure is criminal and forbidden of God, I know that it is impossible for me to desire it, impossible to seek it, without losing God; and consequently I prefer this pleasure to God in the desire that I form of it, and in the pursuit that I make after it. This, then, is sufficient to justify the thought of St. Chrysostom and the doctrine of the theologians upon the nature of deadly sin ... That there are men, and Christian men, to whom, by a secret judgment of God, the passion of Jesus Christ, salutary as it is, may become useless, is a truth too essential in our religion to be unknown, and too sorrowful not to be the subject of our grief. When the Savior from the height of His cross, ready to give up His spirit, raised this cry toward heaven, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" there was no one who did not suppose but that the violence of His torments forced from Him this complaint, and perhaps we ourselves yet believe it. But the great Bishop Arnauld de Chartres, penetrating deeper into the thoughts and affections of this dying Savior, says, with much more reason, that the complaint of Christ Jesus to His Father proceeded from the sentiment with which He was affected, in representing to Himself the little fruit which His death would produce; in considering the small number of the elect who would profit by it; in foreseeing with horror the infinite number of the reprobate, for whom it would be useless: as if He had wished to proclaim that His merits were not fully enough nor worthily enough remunerated; and that after having done so much work He had a right to promise to Himself a different success in behalf of men. The words of this author are admirable: Jesus Christ complains, says this learned prelate, but of what does He complain? That the wickedness of sinners makes Him lose what ought to be the reward of the conflicts which He has maintained; that millions of the human race for whom He suffers will, nevertheless, be excluded from the benefit of redemption. And because He regards Himself in them as their head, and themselves, in spite of their worthlessness, as the members of His mystical body; seeing them abandoned by God, He complains of being abandoned Himself: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" He complains of what made St. Paul groan when, transported with an apostolic zeal, he said to the Galatians: "What, my brethren, is Jesus Christ then dead in vain? Is the mystery of the cross then nothing to you? Will not this blood which He has so abundantly shed have the virtue to sanctify you?" But here, Christians, I feel myself affected with a thought which, contrary as it appears to that of the apostle, only serves to strengthen and confirm it. For it appears that St. Paul is grieved because Jesus Christ has suffered in vain; but I, I should almost console myself if He had only suffered in vain, and if His passion was only rendered useless to us. That which fills me with consternation is, that at the same time that we render it useless to ourselves, by an inevitable necessity it must become pernicious; for this passion, says St. Gregory of Nazianzen, "partakes of the nature of those remedies which, kill if they do not heal, and of which the effect is either to give life or to convert itself into poison; lose nothing of this, I beseech you." Remember, then, Christians, what happened during the judgment and at the moment of the condemnation of the Son of God. When Pilate washed his hands before the Jews and declared to them that there was nothing worthy of death in this righteous man, but that the crime from which he freed himself rested upon them, and that they would have to answer for it, they all cried with one voice that they consented to it, and that they readily agreed that the blood of this just man should fall upon them and upon their children. You know what this cry has cost them. You know the curses which one such imprecation has drawn upon them, the anger of heaven which began from that time to burst upon this nation, the ruin of Jerusalem which followed soon after--the carnage of their citizens, the profanation of their temple, the destruction of their republic, the visible character of their reprobation which their unhappy posterity bear to this day, that universal banishment, that exile of sixteen hundred years, that slavery through all the earth--and all in consequence of the authentic prediction which Jesus Christ made to them of it when going to Calvary, and with circumstances which incontestably prove that a punishment as exemplary as this can not be imputed but to decide which they had committed in the person of the Savior; since it is evident, says St. Augustine, that the Jews were never further from idolatry nor more religious observers of their law than they were then, and that, excepting the crime of the death of Jesus Christ, God, very far from punishing them, would, it seems, rather have loaded them with His blessings. You know all this, I say; and all this is a convincing proof that the blood of this God-man is virtually fallen upon these sacrilegious men, and that God, in condemning them by their own mouth, altho in spite of Himself, employs that to destroy them which was designed for their salvation. But, Christians, to speak with the Holy Spirit, this has happened to the Jews only as a figure; it is only the shadow of the fearful curses of which the abuse of the merits and passion of the Son of God must be to us the source and the measure. I will explain myself. What do we, my dear hearers, when borne away by the immoderate desires of our hearts to a sin against which our consciences protest? And what do we, when, possest of the spirit of the world, we resist a grace which solicits us, which presses us to obey God? Without thinking upon it, and without wishing it, we secretly pronounce the same sentence of death which the Jews pronounced against themselves before Pilate, when they said to him, "His blood be upon us." For this grace which we despise is the price of the blood of Jesus Christ, and the sin that we commit is an actual profanation of this very blood. It is, then, as if we were to say to God: "Lord, I clearly see what engagement I make, and I know what risk I run, but rather than not satisfy my own desires, I consent that the blood of Thy Son shall fall upon me. This will be to bear the chastisement of it, but I will indulge my passion; Thou hast a right to draw forth from it a just indignation, but nevertheless I will complete my undertaking." Thus we condemn ourselves. And here, Christians, is one of the essential foundations of this terrible mystery of the eternity of the punishment with which faith threatens us, and against which our reason revolts. We suppose that we can not have any knowledge of it in this life, and we are not aware, says St. Chrysostom, that we find it completely in the blood of the Savior, or rather in our profanation of it every day. For this blood, my brethren, adds this holy doctor, is enough to make eternity not less frightful, but less incredible. And behold the reason: This blood is of an infinite dignity; it can therefore be avenged only by an infinite punishment. This blood, if we destroy ourselves, will cry eternally against us at the tribunal of God. It will eternally excite the wrath of God against us. This blood, falling upon lost souls, will fix a stain upon them, which shall never be effaced. Their torments must consequently never end. A reprobate in hell will always appear in the eyes of God stained with that blood which he has so basely treated. God will then always abhor him; and, as the aversion of God from His creature is that which makes hell, it must be inferred that hell will be eternal. And in this, O my God, Thou art sovereignly just, sovereignly holy, and worthy of our praise and adoration. It is in this way that the beloved disciple declared it even to God Himself in the Apocalypse. Men, said he, have shed the blood of Thy servants and of Thy prophets; therefore they deserve to drink it, and to drink it from the cup of Thine indignation. "For they have shed the blood of saints and prophets, and thou hast given them blood to drink." An expression which the Scripture employs to describe the extreme infliction of divine vengeance. Ah! if the blood of the prophets has drawn down the scourge of God upon men, what may we not expect from the blood of Jesus Christ? If the blood of martyrs is heard crying out in heaven against the persecutors of the faith, how much more will the blood of the Redeemer be heard! Then once more, Christians, behold the deplorable necessity to which we are reduced. This blood which flows from Calvary either demands grace for us, or justice against us. When we apply ourselves to it by a lively faith and a sincere repentance, it demands grace; but when by our disorders and impieties we check its salutary virtue, it demands justice, and it infallibly obtains it. It is in this blood, says St. Bernard, that all righteous souls are purified; but by a prodigy exactly opposite, it is also in this same blood that all the sinners of the land defile themselves, and render themselves, if I may use the expression, more hideous in the sight of God. Ah! my God, shall I eternally appear in thine eyes polluted with that blood which washes away the crimes of others? If I had simply to bear my own sins, I might promise myself a punishment less rigorous, considering my sins as my misfortune, my weakness, my ignorance. Then, perhaps, Thou wouldst be less offended on account of them. But when these sins with which I shall be covered shall present themselves before me as so many sacrileges with respect to the blood of Thy Son; when the abuse of this blood shall be mixed and confounded with all the disorders of my life; when there shall not be one of them against which this blood shall not cry louder than the blood of Abel against Cain; then, O God of my soul I what will become of me in thy presence? No, Lord, cries the same St. Bernard affectionately, suffer not the blood of my Savior to fall upon me in this manner. Let it fall upon me to sanctify, but let it not fall upon me to destroy. Let it fall upon me in a right use of the favors which are the divine overflowings of it, and not through the blindness of mind and hardness of heart which are the most terrible punishments of it. Let it fall upon me by the participation of the sacred Eucharist, which is the precious source of it, and not by the maledictions attached to the despisers of Thy sacraments. In fine, let it fall upon me by influencing my conduct and inducing the practise of good works, and let it not fall upon me for my wanderings, my infidelities, my obstinacy, and my impenitence. This, my brethren, is what we ought to ask to-day from Jesus Christ crucified. It is with these views that we ought to go to the foot of the cross and catch the blood as it flows. He was the Savior of the Jews as well as ours, but this Savior, St. Augustine says, the Jews have converted into their judge. Avert from us such an evil. May He Who died to save us be our Savior. May He be our Savior during all the days of our lives. And may His merits, shed upon us abundantly, lose none of their efficacy in our hands, but be preserved entire by the fruits we produce from them. May He be our Savior in death. And at the last moment may the cross be our support, and thus may He consummate the work of our salvation which He has begun. May He be our Savior in a blest eternity, where we shall be as much the sharer in His glory as we have been in His sufferings. F�NELON THE SAINTS CONVERSE WITH GOD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE François de Salignac de La Mothe-Fénelon, Archbishop of Cambray, and private tutor to the heir-apparent of France, was born of a noble family in Perigord, 1651. In 1675 he received holy orders, and soon afterward made the acquaintance of Bossuet, whom he henceforth looked up to as his master. It was the publication of his "De l'�ducation des Filles" that brought him his first fame, and had some influence in securing his appointment in 1689 to be preceptor of the Duke of Burgundy. In performing this office he thought it necessary to compose his own text-books, such as would teach the vanity of worldly greatness and the loftiness of virtue. He was promoted to the archbishopric of Cambray in 1695, and subsequently became entangled in the religious aberrations of Madame Guyon. Fénelon came into controversy with Bossuet, whose severity against his friend was rebuked by the Pope, who, nevertheless, condemned some of the Archbishop of Cambray's views. Fénelon submitted, and withdrew to his diocesan see, where he died in 1715. His deep spirituality and eloquence are exemplified in the following sermon. F�NELON 1651-1715 THE SAINTS CONVERSE WITH GOD _Pray without ceasing_.--I Thess. v., 17 Of all the duties enjoined by Christianity none is more essential, and yet more neglected, than prayer. Most people consider this exercise a wearisome ceremony, which they are justified in abridging as much as possible. Even those whose profession or fears lead them to pray, do it with such languor and wanderings of mind that their prayers, far from drawing down blessings, only increase their condemnation. I wish to demonstrate, in this discourse, first, the general necessity of prayer; secondly, its peculiar duty; thirdly, the manner in which we ought to pray. First. God alone can instruct us in our duty. The teachings of men, however wise and well disposed they may be, are still ineffectual, if God do not shed on the soul that light which opens the mind to truth. The imperfections of our fellow creatures cast a shade over the truths that we learn from them. Such is our weakness that we do not receive, with sufficient docility, the instructions of those who are as imperfect as ourselves. A thousand suspicions, jealousies, fears, and prejudices prevent us from profiting, as we might, by what we hear from men; and tho they announce the most serious truths, yet what they do weakens the effect of what they say. In a word, it is God alone who can perfectly teach us. St. Bernard said, in writing to a pious friend--If you are seeking less to satisfy a vain curiosity than to get true wisdom, you will sooner find it in deserts than in books. The silence of the rocks and the pathless forests will teach you better than the eloquence of the most gifted men. "All," says St. Augustine, "that we possess of truth and wisdom is a borrowed good flowing from that fountain for which we ought to thirst in the fearful desert of this world, that, being refreshed and invigorated by these dews from heaven, we may not faint upon the road that conducts us to a better country. Every attempt to satisfy the cravings of our hearts at other sources only increases the void. You will be always poor if you do not possess the only true riches." All light that does not proceed from God is false; it only dazzles us; it sheds no illumination upon the difficult paths in which we must walk, along the precipices that are about us. Our experience and our reflections can not, on all occasions, give us just and certain rules of conduct. The advice of our wisest, and most sincere friends is not always sufficient; many things escape their observation, and many that do not are too painful to be spoken. They suppress much from delicacy, or sometimes from a fear of transgressing the bounds that our friendship and confidence in them will allow. The animadversions of our enemies, however severe or vigilant they may be, fail to enlighten us with regard to ourselves. Their malignity furnishes our self-love with a pretext for the indulgence of the greatest faults. The blindness of our self-love is so great that we find reasons for being satisfied with ourselves, while all the world condemn us. What must we learn from all this darkness? That it is God alone who can dissipate it; that it is He alone whom we can never doubt; that He alone is true, and knoweth all things; that if we go to Him in sincerity, He will teach us what men dare not tell us, what books can not--all that is essential for us to know. Be assured that the greatest obstacle to true wisdom is the self-confidence inspired by that which is false. The first step toward this precious knowledge is earnestly to desire it, to feel the want of it, and to be convinced that they who seek it must address themselves to the Father of lights, who freely gives to him who asks in faith. But if it be true that God alone can enlighten us, it is not the less true that He will do this simply in answer to our prayers. Are we not happy, indeed, in being able to obtain so great a blessing by only asking for it? No part of the effort that we make to acquire the transient enjoyments of this life is necessary to obtain these heavenly blessings. What will we not do, what are we not willing to suffer, to possess dangerous and contemptible things, and often without any success? It is not thus with heavenly things. God is always ready to grant them to those who make the request in sincerity and truth. The Christian life is a long and continual tendency of our hearts toward that eternal goodness which we desire on earth. All our happiness consists in thirsting for it. Now this thirst is prayer. Ever desire to approach your Creator and you will never cease to pray. Do not think that it is necessary to pronounce many words. To pray is to say, Let Thy will be done. It is to form a good purpose; to raise your heart to God; to lament your weakness; to sigh at the recollection of your frequent disobedience. This prayer demands neither method, nor science, nor reasoning; it is not essential to quit one's employment; it is a simple movement of the heart toward its Creator, and a desire that whatever you are doing you may do it to His glory. The best of all prayers is to act with a pure intention, and with a continual reference to the will of God. It depends much upon ourselves whether our prayers be efficacious. It is not by a miracle, but by a movement of the heart that we are benefited; by a submissive spirit. Let us believe, let us trust, let us hope, and God never will reject our prayer. Yet how many Christians do we see strangers to the privilege, aliens from God, who seldom think of Him, who never open their hearts to Him; who seek elsewhere the counsels of a false wisdom, and vain and dangerous consolations, who can not resolve to seek, in humble, fervent prayer to God, a remedy for their griefs and a true knowledge of their defects, the necessary power to conquer their vicious and perverse inclinations, and the consolations and assistance they require, that they may not be discouraged in a virtuous life. But some will say, "I have no interest in prayer; it wearies me; my imagination is excited by sensible and more agreeable objects, and wanders in spite of me." If neither your reverence for the great truths of religion, nor the majesty of the ever-present Deity, nor the interest of your eternal salvation, have power to arrest your mind and engage it in prayer, at least mourn with me for your infidelity; be ashamed of your weakness, and wish that your thoughts were more under your control; and desire to become less frivolous and inconstant. Make an effort to subject your mind to this discipline. You will gradually acquire habit and facility. What is now tedious will become delightful; and you will then feel, with a peace that the world can not give nor take away, that God is good. Make a courageous effort to overcome yourself. There can be no occasion that more demands it. Secondly. The peculiar obligation of prayer. Were I to give all the proofs that the subject affords, I should describe every condition of life, that I might point out its dangers, and the necessity of recourse to God in prayer. But I will simply state that under all circumstances we have need of prayer. There is no situation in which it is possible to be placed where we have not many virtues to acquire and many faults to correct. We find in our temperament, or in our habits, or in the peculiar character of our minds, qualities that do not suit our occupations, and that oppose our duties. One person is connected by marriage to another whose temper is so unequal that life becomes a perpetual warfare. Some, who are exposed to the contagious atmosphere of the world, find themselves so susceptible to the vanity which they inhale that all their pure desires vanish. Others have solemnly promised to renounce their resentments, to conquer their aversions, to suffer with patience certain crosses, and to repress their eagerness for wealth; but nature prevails, and they are vindictive, violent, impatient, and avaricious. Whence comes it that these resolutions are so frail? That all these people wish to improve, desire to perform their duty toward God and man better, and yet fail? It is because our own strength and wisdom, alone, are not enough. We undertake to do everything without God; therefore we do not succeed. It is at the foot of the altar that we must seek for counsel which will aid us. It is with God that we must lay our plans of virtue and usefulness; it is He alone that can render them successful. Without Him, all our designs, however good they may appear, are only temerity and delusion. Let us then pray that we may learn what we are and what we ought to be. By this means we shall not only learn the number and the evil effects of our peculiar faults, but we shall also learn to what virtues we are called, and the way to practise them. The rays of that pure and heavenly light that visit the humble soul will beam on us and we shall feel and understand that everything is possible to those who put their whole trust in God. Thus, not only to those who live in retirement, but to those who are exposed to the agitations of the world and the excitements of business, it is peculiarly necessary, by contemplation and fervent prayer, to restore their souls to that serenity which the dissipations of life and commerce with men have disturbed. To those who are engaged in business, contemplation and prayer are much more difficult than to those who live in retirement; but it is far more necessary for them to have frequent recourse to God in fervent prayer. In the most holy occupation a certain degree of precaution is necessary. Do not devote all your time to action, but reserve a certain portion of it for meditation upon eternity. We see Jesus Christ inviting His disciples to go apart, in a desert place, and rest awhile, after their return from the cities, where they had been to announce His religion. How much more necessary is it for us to approach the source of all virtue, that we may revive our declining faith and charity, when we return from the busy scenes of life, where men speak and act as if they had never known that there is a God! We should look upon prayer as the remedy for our weakness, the rectifier of our own faults. He who was without sin prayed constantly; how much more ought we, who are sinners, to be faithful in prayer! Even the exercise of charity is often a snare to us. It calls us to certain occupations that dissipate the mind, and that may degenerate into mere amusement. It is for this reason that St. Chrysostom says that nothing is so important as to keep an exact proportion between the interior source of virtue and the external practise of it; else, like the foolish virgins, we shall find that the oil in our lamp is exhausted when the bridegroom comes. The necessity we feel that God should bless our labors is another powerful motive to prayer. It often happens that all human help is vain. It is God alone that can aid us, and it does not require much faith to believe that it is less our exertions, our foresight, and our industry than the blessing of the Almighty that can give success to our wishes. Thirdly. Of the manner in which we ought to pray. 1. We must pray with attention. God listens to the voice of the heart, not to that of the lips. Our whole heart must be engaged in prayer. It must fasten upon what it prays for; and every human object must disappear from our minds. To whom should we speak with attention if not to God? Can He demand less of us than that we should think of what we say to Him? Dare we hope that He will listen to us, and think of us, when we forget ourselves in the midst of our prayers? This attention to prayer, which it is so just to exact from Christians, may be practised with less difficulty than we imagine. It is true that the most faithful souls suffer from occasional involuntary distractions. They can not always control their imaginations, and, in the silence of their spirits, enter into the presence of God. But these unbidden wanderings of the mind ought not to trouble us; and they may conduce to our perfection even more than the most sublime and affecting prayers if we earnestly strive to overcome them, and submit with humility to this experience of our infirmity. But to dwell willingly on frivolous and worldly things during prayer, to make no effort to check the vain thoughts that intrude upon this sacred employment and come between us and the Father of our spirits--is not this choosing to live the sport of our senses, and separated from God? 2. We must also ask with faith; a faith so firm that it never falters. He who prays without confidence can not hope that his prayer will be granted. Will not God love the heart that trusts in Him? Will He reject those who bring all their treasures to Him, and repose everything upon His goodness? When we pray to God, says St. Cyprian, with entire assurance, it is Himself who has given us the spirit of our prayer. Then it is the Father listening to the words of His child; it is He who dwells in our hearts, teaching us to pray. But must we confess that this filial confidence is wanting in all our prayers? Is not prayer our resource only when all others have failed us? If we look into hearts, shall we not find that we ask of God as if we had never before received benefits from Him? Shall we not discover there a secret infidelity that renders us unworthy of His goodness? Let us tremble, lest, when Jesus Christ shall judge us, He pronounce the same reproach that He did to Peter, "O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" 3. We must join humility with trust. Great God, said Daniel, when we prostrate ourselves at Thy feet, we do not place our hopes for the success of our prayers upon our righteousness, but upon Thy mercy. Without this disposition in our hearts, all others, however pious they may be, can not please God. St. Augustine observes that the failure of Peter should not be attributed to insincerity in his zeal for Jesus Christ. He loved his Master in good faith; in good faith he would rather have died than have forsaken Him; but his fault lay in trusting to his own strength, to do what his own heart dictated. It is not enough to possess a right spirit, an exact knowledge of duty, a sincere desire to perform it We must continually renew this desire, and enkindle this flame within us, at the fountain of pure and eternal light. It is the humble and contrite heart that God will not despise. Remark the difference which the evangelist has pointed out between the prayer of the proud and presumptuous Pharisee and the humble and penitent publican. The one relates his virtues, the other deplores his sins. The good works of the one shall be set aside, while the penitence of the other shall be accepted. It will be thus with many Christians. Sinners, vile in their own eyes, will be objects of the mercy of God; while some, who have made professions of piety, will be condemned on account of the pride and arrogance that have contaminated their good works. It will be so because these have said in their hearts, "Lord, I thank thee that I am not as other men are." They imagine themselves privileged; they pretend that they alone have penetrated the mysteries of the kingdom of God; they have a language and science of their own; they believe that their zeal can accomplish everything. Their regular lives favor their vanity; but in truth they are incapable of self-sacrifice, and they go to their devotions with their hearts full of pride and presumption. Unhappy are those who pray in this manner! Unhappy are those whose prayers do not render them more humble, more submissive, more watchful over their faults, and more willing to live in obscurity! 4. We must pray with love. It is love says St. Augustine, that asks, that seeks, that knocks, that finds, and that is faithful to what it finds. We cease to pray to God as soon as we cease to love Him, as soon as we cease to thirst for His perfections. The coldness of our love is the silence of our hearts toward God. Without this we may pronounce prayers, but we do not pray; for what shall lead us to meditate upon the laws of God if it be not the love of Him who has made these laws? Let our hearts be full of love, then, and they will pray. Happy are they who think seriously of the truths of religion; but far more happy are they who feel and love them! We must ardently desire that God will grant us spiritual blessings; and the ardor of our wishes must render us fit to receive the blessings. For if we pray only from custom, from fear, in the time of tribulation--- if we honor God only with our lips, while our hearts are far from Him--if we do not feel a strong desire for the success of our prayers--if we feel a chilling indifference in approaching Him who is a consuming fire--if we have no zeal for His glory--if we do not feel hatred for sin, and a thirst for perfection, we can not hope for a blessing upon such heartless prayers. 5. We must pray with perseverance. The perfect heart is never weary of seeking God. Ought we to complain if God sometimes leaves us to obscurity, and doubt, and temptation? Trials purify humble souls, and they serve to expiate the faults of the unfaithful. They confound those who, even in their prayers, have flattered their cowardice and pride. If an innocent soul, devoted to God, suffer from any secret disturbance, it should be humble, adore the designs of God, and redouble its prayers and its fervor. How often do we hear those who every day have to reproach themselves with unfaithfulness toward God complain that He refuses to answer their prayers! Ought they not to acknowledge that it is their sins which have formed a thick cloud between Heaven and them, and that God has justly hidden Himself from them? How often has He recalled us from our wanderings! How often, ungrateful as we are, have we been deaf to His voice and insensible to His goodness! He would make us feel that we are blind and miserable when we forsake Him. He would teach us, by privation, the value of the blessings that we have slighted. And shall we not bear our punishment with patience? Who can boast of having done all that he ought to have done; of having repaired all his past errors; of having purified his heart, so that he may claim as a right that God should listen to his prayer? Most truly, all our pride, great as it is, would not be sufficient to inspire such presumption! If then, the Almightly do not grant our petitions, let us adore His justice, let us be silent, let us humble ourselves, and let us pray without ceasing. This humble perseverance will obtain from Him what we should never obtain by our own merit. It will make us pass happily from darkness to light; for know, says St. Augustine that God is near to us even when He appears far from us. 6. We should pray with a pure intention. We should not mingle in our prayers what is false with what is real; what is perishable with what is eternal; low and temporal interests with that which concerns our salvation. Do not seek to render God the protector of your self-love and ambition, but the promoter of your good desires. You ask for the gratification of your passions, or to be delivered from the cross, of which He knows you have need. Carry not to the foot of the altar irregular desires and indiscreet prayers. Sigh not for vain and fleeting pleasures. Open your heart to your Father in heaven, that His Spirit may enable you to ask for the true riches. How can He grant you, says St. Augustine, what you do not yourself desire to receive? You pray every day that His will may be done, and that His kingdom may come. How can you utter this prayer with sincerity when you prefer your own will to His, and make His law yield to the vain pretexts with which your self-love seeks to elude it? Can you make this prayer--you who disturb His reign in your heart by so many impure and vain desires? You, in fine, who fear the coming of His reign, and do not desire that God should grant what you seem to pray for? No! If He, at this moment, were to offer to give you a new heart, and render you humble, and willing to bear the cross, your pride would revolt, and you would not accept the offer; or you would make a reservation in favor of your ruling passion, and try to accommodate your piety to your humor and fancies! SOUTH THE IMAGE OF GOD IN MAN BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Robert South, who was born in the borough of Hackney, London, England, in 1638, attracted wide attention by his vigorous mind and his clear, argumentative style in preaching. Some of his sermons are notable specimens of pulpit eloquence. A keen analytical mind, great depth of feeling, and wide range of fancy combined to make him a powerful and impressive speaker. By some critics his style has been considered unsurpassed in force and beauty. What he lacked in tenderness was made up in masculine strength. He was a born satirist. Henry Rogers said of him: "Of all the English preachers, South seems to furnish, in point of style, the truest specimens of pulpit eloquence. His robust intellect, his shrewd common sense, his vehement feelings, and a fancy always more distinguished by force than by elegance, admirably qualified him for a powerful public speaker." South became prebendary of Westminster in 1663, canon at Oxford in 1670, and rector of Islip in 1678. An edition of his writings was published in 1823. He died in 1716. SOUTH 1638-1716 THE IMAGE OF GOD IN MAN _So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him_.--Genesis i., 27. How hard it is for natural reason to discover a creation before revealed, or, being revealed, to believe it, the strange opinions of the old philosophers, and the infidelity of modern atheists, is too sad a demonstration. To run the world back to its first original and infancy, and, as it were, to view nature in its cradle, and trace the outgoings of the Ancient of Days in the first instance and specimen of His creative power, is a research too great for any mortal inquiry; and we might continue our scrutiny to the end of the world, before natural reason would be able to find out when it began. Epicurus's discourse concerning the original of the world is so fabulous and ridiculously merry that we may well judge the design of his philosophy to have been pleasure, and not instruction. Aristotle held that it streamed by connatural result and emanation from God, the infinite and eternal Mind, as the light issues from the sun; so that there was no instant of duration assignable of God's eternal existence in which the world did not also coexist. Others held a fortuitous concourse of atoms--but all seem jointly to explode a creation, still beating upon this ground, that the producing something out of nothing is impossible and incomprehensible; incomprehensible, indeed, I grant, but not therefore impossible. There is not the least transaction of sense and motion in the whole man, but philosophers are at a loss to comprehend, I am sure they are to explain it. Wherefore it is not always rational to measure the truth of an assertion by the standard of our apprehension. But, to bring things even to the bare preception of reason, I appeal to any one who shall impartially reflect upon the ideas and conceptions of his own mind, whether he doth not find it as easy and suitable to his natural notions to conceive that an infinite Almighty power might produce a thing out of nothing, and make that to exist _de novo_, which did not exist before, as to conceive the world to have had no beginning, but to have existed from eternity, which, were it so proper for this place and exercise, I could easily demonstrate to be attended with no small train of absurdities. But then, besides that the acknowledging of a creation is safe, and the denial of it dangerous and irreligious, and yet not more, perhaps much less, demonstrable than the affirmative; so, over and above, it gives me this advantage, that, let it seem never so strange, uncouth, and incomprehensible, the nonplus of my reason will yield a fairer opportunity to my faith. The work that I shall undertake from these words shall be to show what this image of God in man is, and wherein it doth consist. Which I shall do these two ways: 1. Negatively, by showing wherein it does not consist. 2. Positively, by showing wherein it does. For the first of these we are to remove the erroneous opinion of the Socinians. They deny that the image of God consisted in any habitual perfections that adorned the soul of Adam, but, as to his understanding, bring him in void of all notion, a rude, unwritten blank; making him to be created as much an infant as others are born; sent into the world only to read and to spell out a God in the works of creation, to learn by degrees, till at length his understanding grew up to the stature of his body; also without any inherent habits of virtue in his will; thus divesting him of all, and stripping him of his bare essence; so that all the perfection they allowed his understanding was aptness and docility, and all that they attributed to his will was a possibility to be virtuous. But wherein, then, according to their opinion, did this image of God consist? Why, in that power and dominion that God gave Adam over the creatures; in that he was vouched His immediate deputy upon earth, the viceroy of the creation, and lord-lieutenant of the world. But that this power and dominion is not adequately and formally the image of God, but only a part of it, is clear from hence, because then he that had most of this would have most of God's image; and consequently Nimrod had more of it than Noah, Saul than Samuel, the persecutors than the martyrs, and Caesar than Christ Himself, which, to assert, is a, blasphemous paradox. And if the image of God is only grandeur, power, and sovereignty, certainly we have been hitherto much mistaken in our duty, and hereafter are by all means to beware of making ourselves unlike God by too much self-denial and humility. I am not ignorant that some may distinguish between a lawful authority and actual power, and affirm that God's image consists only in the former, which wicked princes, such, as Saul and Nimrod, have not, tho they possess the latter. But to this I answer, 1. That the Scripture neither makes nor owns such a distinction, nor anywhere asserts that when princes begin to be wicked they cease of right to be governors. Add to this, that when God renewed this charter of man's sovereignty over the creatures to Noah and his family we find no exception at all, but that Shem stood as fully invested with this right as any of his brethren. 2. But, secondly, this savors of something ranker than Socinianism, even the tenants of the fifth monarchy, and of sovereignty founded only upon saintship, and therefore fitter to be answered by the judge than the divine, and to receive its confutation at the bar of justice than from the pulpit. Having now made our way through this false opinion, we are in the next place to lay down positively what this image of God in man is. It is, in short, that universal rectitude of all the faculties of the soul, by which they stand apt and disposed to their respective offices and operations, which will be more fully set forth by taking a distinct survey of it in the several faculties belonging to the soul. 1. In the understanding. 2. In the will. 3. In the passions or affections. I. And, first, for its noblest faculty, the understanding: it was then sublime, clear, and aspiring--and, as it were, the soul's upper region, lofty and serene, free from vapors and disturbances of the inferior affections. It was the leading, controlling faculty; all the passions wore the colors of reason; it was not consul, but dictator. Discourse was then almost as quick as intuition; it was nimble in proposing, firm in concluding; it could sooner determine than now it can dispute. Like the sun, it had both light and agility; it knew no rest but in motion, no quiet but in activity. It did not so properly apprehend, as irradiate the object; not so much find, as make things intelligible. It did not arbitrate upon the several reports of sense, and all the varieties of imagination, like a drowsy judge, not only hearing, but also directing their verdict. In sum, it was vegete, quick, and lively, open as the day, untainted as the morning, full of the innocence and sprightliness of youth, it gave the soul a bright and a full view into all things, and was not only a window, but itself the prospect. Briefly, there is as much difference between the clear representations of the understanding then and the obscure discoveries that it makes now as there is between the prospect of a casement and of a keyhole. Now, as there are two great functions of the soul, contemplation and practise, according to that general division of objects, some of which only entertain our speculation, others also employ our actions, so the understanding, with relation to these, not because of any distinction in the faculty itself, is accordingly divided into speculative and practical; in both of which the image of God was then apparent. 1. For the understanding speculative. There are some general maxims and notions in the mind of man which are the rules of discourse and the basis of all philosophy: as, that the same thing can not at the same time be and not be; that the whole is bigger than a part; that two dimensions, severally equal to a third, must also be equal to one another. Aristotle, indeed, affirms the mind to be at first a mere _tabula rasa_, and that these notions are not ingenit, and imprinted by the finger of nature, but by the later and more languid impressions of sense, being only the reports of observation, and the result of so many repeated experiments. (1.) That these notions are universal, and what is universal must needs proceed from some universal, constant principle, the same in all particulars, which here can be nothing else but human nature. (2.) These can not be infused by observation, because they are the rules by which men take their first apprehensions and observations of things, and therefore, in order of nature, must needs precede them; as the being of the rule must be before its application to the thing directed by it. From whence it follows that these were notions not descending from us, but born with us, not our offspring, but our brethren; and, as I may so say, such as we were taught without the help of a teacher. Now it was Adam's happiness in the state of innocence to have these clear and unsullied. He came into the world a philosopher, which sufficiently appeared by his writing the nature of things upon their names; he could view essences in themselves, and read forms without the comment of their respective properties; he could see consequents yet dormant in their principles, and effects yet unborn and in the womb of their causes; his understanding could almost pierce into future contingents; his conjectures improving even to prophecy, or the certainties of prediction; till his fall, it was ignorant of nothing but sin, or at least it rested in the notion, without the smart of the experiment. Could any difficulty have been proposed, the resolution would have been as early as the proposal; it could not have had time to settle into doubt. Like a better Archimedes, the issue of all his inquiries was a _eureka_, a _eureka_, the offspring of his brain without the sweat of his brow. Study was not then a duty, night-watchings were needless, the light of reason wanted not the assistance of a candle. This is the doom of fallen man, to labor in the fire, to seek truth _in profundo_, to exhaust his time and impair his health, and perhaps to spin out his days and himself into one pitiful, controverted conclusion. There was then no poring, no struggling with memory, no straining for invention; his faculties were quick and expedite, they answered without knocking, they were ready upon the first summons. 2. The image of God was no less resplendent in that which we call man's practical understanding; namely, that storehouse of the soul in which are treasured up the rules of action, and the seeds of morality; where, we must observe, that many who deny all connate notions in the speculative intellect, do yet admit them in this. Now of this sort are these maxims, "That God is to be worshiped, that parents are to be honored, that a man's word is to be kept," and the like; which, being of universal influence, as to the regulation of the behavior and converse of mankind, are the ground of all virtue and civility, and the foundation of religion. It was the privilege of Adam innocent, to have these notions also firm and untainted, to carry his monitor in his bosom, his law in his heart, and to have such a conscience as might be its own casuist; and certainly those actions must needs be regular where there is an identity between the rule and the faculty. His own mind taught him a due dependence upon God, and chalked out to him the just proportions and measures of behavior to his fellow creatures. He had no catechism but the creation, needed no study but reflection, read no book but the volume of the world, and that too, not for the rules to work by, but for the objects to work upon. Reason was his tutor, and first principles his _magna moralia_. The decalogue of Moses was but a transcript, not an original. All the laws of nations, and wise decrees of states, the statutes of Solon, and the twelve tables, were but a paraphrase upon this standing rectitude of nature, this fruitful principle of justice, that was ready to run out and enlarge itself into suitable demonstrations upon all emergent objects and occasions. And this much for the image of God, as it shone in man's understanding. II. Let us in the next place take a view of it as it was stamped upon the will. It is much disputed by divines concerning the power of man's will to good and evil in the state of innocence: and upon very nice and dangerous precipices stand their determinations on either side. Some hold that God invested him with a power to stand so that in the strength of that power received, he might, without the auxiliaries of any further influence, have determined his will to a full choice of good. Others hold that notwithstanding this power, yet it was impossible for him to exert it in any good action without a superadded assistance of grace actually determining that power to the certain production of such an act; so that whereas some distinguish between sufficient and effectual grace, they order the matter so as to acknowledge some sufficient but what is indeed effected, and actually productive of good action. I shall not presume to interpose dogmatically in a controversy which I look never to see decided. But concerning the latter of these opinions, I shall only give these two remarks: 1. That it seems contrary to the common and natural conceptions of all mankind, who acknowledge themselves able and sufficient to do many things which actually they never do. 2. That to assert that God looked upon Adam's fall as a sin, and punished it as such when, without any antecedent sin of his, he withdrew that actual grace from him upon the withdrawing of which it was impossible for him not to fall, seems a thing that highly reproaches the essential equity and goodness of the divine nature. Wherefore, doubtless the will of man in the state of innocence had an entire freedom, a perfect equipendency and indifference to either part of the contradiction, to stand, or not to stand; to accept, or not to accept the temptation. I will grant the will of man now to be as much a slave as any one who will have it, and be only free to sin; that is, instead of a liberty, to have only a licentiousness; yet certainly this is not nature, but chance. We were not born crooked; we learned these windings and turnings of the serpent: and therefore it can not but be a blasphemous piece of ingratitude to ascribe them to God, and to make the plague of our nature the condition of our creation. The will was then ductile and pliant to all the motions of right reason; it met the dictates of a clarified understanding half way. And the active informations of the intellect, filling the passive reception of the will, like form closing with matter, grew actuate into a third and distinct perfection of practise; the understanding and will never disagreed; for the proposals of the one never thwarted the inclinations of the other. Yet neither did the will servilely attend upon the understanding, but as a favorite does upon his prince, where the service is privilege and preferment; or as Solomon's servants waited upon him: it admired its wisdom, and heard its prudent dictates and counsels--both the direction and the reward of its obedience. It is indeed the nature of this faculty to follow a superior guide--to be drawn by the intellect; but then it was drawn as a triumphant chariot, which at the same time both follows and triumphs: while it obeyed this, it commanded the other faculties. It was subordinate, not enslaved to the understanding: not as a servant to a master, but as a queen to her king, who both acknowledges a subjection and yet retains a majesty. III. Pass we now downward from man's intellect and will to the passions, which have their residence and situation chiefly in the sensitive appetite. For we must know that inasmuch as man is a compound, and mixture of flesh as well as spirit, the soul, during its abode in the body, does all things by the mediation of these passions and inferior affections. And here the opinion of the Stoics was famous and singular, who looked upon all these as sinful defects and irregularities, as so many deviations from right reason, making passion to be only another word for perturbation. Sorrow in their esteem was a sin scarce to be expiated by another; to pity, was a fault; to rejoice, an extravagance; and the apostle's advice, "to be angry and sin not," was a contradiction in their philosophy. But in this they were constantly outvoted by other sects of philosophers, neither for fame nor number less than themselves: so that all arguments brought against them from divinity would come in by way of overplus to their confutation. To us let this be sufficient, that our Savior Christ, who took upon Him all our natural infirmities, but none of our sinful, has been seen to weep, to be sorrowful, to pity, and to be angry: which shows that there might be gall in a dove, passion without sin, fire without smoke, and motion without disturbance. For it is not bare agitation, but the sediment at the bottom, that troubles and defiles the water; and when we see it windy and dusty, the wind does not (as we used to say) make, but only raise a dust. Now, tho the schools reduce all the passions to these two heads, the concupiscible and the irascible appetite, yet I shall not tie myself to an exact prosecution of them under this division; but at this time, leaving both their terms and their method to themselves, consider only the principal and noted passions, from whence we may take an estimate of the rest. And first for the grand leading affection of all, which is love. This is the great instrument and engine of nature, the bond and cement of society, the spring and spirit of the universe. Love is such an affection as can not so properly be said to be in the soul as the soul to be in that. It is the whole man wrapt up into one desire; all the powers, vigor, and faculties of the soul abridged into one inclination. And it is of that active, restless nature that it must of necessity exert itself; and, like the fire to which it is so often compared, it is not a free agent, to choose whether it will heat or no, but it streams forth by natural results and unavoidable emanations. So that it will fasten upon any inferior, unsuitable object, rather than none at all. The soul may sooner leave off to subsist than to love; and, like the vine, it withers and dies if it has nothing to embrace. Now this affection, in the state of innocence, was happily pitched upon its right object; it flamed up in direct fervors of devotion to God, and in collateral emissions of charity to its neighbor. It was not then only another and more cleanly name for lust. It had none of those impure heats that both represent and deserve hell. It was a vestal and a virgin fire, and differed as much from that which usually passes by this name nowadays as the vital heat from the burning of a fever. Then for the contrary passion of hatred. This we know is the passion of defiance, and there is a kind of aversation and hostility included in its very essence and being. But then (if there could have been hatred in the world when there was scarce anything odious) it would have acted within the compass of its proper object; like aloes, bitter indeed, but wholesome. There would have been no rancor, no hatred of our brother: an innocent nature could hate nothing that was innocent. In a word, so great is the commutation that the soul then hated only that which now only it loves, that is, sin. And if we may bring anger under this head, as being, according to some, a transient hatred, or at least very like it, this also, as unruly as now it is, yet then it vented itself by the measures of reason. There was no such thing as the transports of malice or the violences of revenge, no rendering evil for evil, when evil was truly a nonentity and nowhere to be found. Anger, then, was like the sword of justice, keen, but innocent and righteous: it did not act like fury, then call itself zeal. It always espoused God's honor, and never kindled upon anything but in order to a sacrifice. It sparkled like the coal upon the altar with the fervors of piety, the heats of devotion, the sallies and vibrations of a harmless activity. In the next place, for the lightsome passion of joy. It was not that which now often usurps this name; that trivial, vanishing, superficial thing, that only gilds the apprehension and plays upon the surface of the soul. It was not the mere crackling of thorns or sudden blaze of the spirits, the exultation of a tickled fancy or a pleased appetite. Joy was then a masculine and a severe thing; the recreation of the judgment, the jubilee of reason. It was the result of a real good, suitably applied. It commenced upon the solidity of truth and the substance of fruition. It did not run out in voice or indecent eruptions, but filled the soul, as God does the universe, silently and without noise. It was refreshing, but composed, like the pleasantness of youth tempered with the gravity of age; or the mirth of a festival managed with the silence of contemplation. And, on the other side, for sorrow: Had any loss or disaster made but room for grief, it would have moved according to the severe allowances of prudence, and the proportions of the provocation. It would not have sallied out into complaint of loudness, nor spread itself upon the face, and writ sad stories upon the forehead. No wringing of hands, knocking the breast, or wishing oneself unborn; all which are but the ceremonies of sorrow, the pomp and ostentation of an effeminate grief, which speak not so much the greatness of the misery as the smallness of the mind! Tears may spoil the eyes, but not wash away the affliction. Sighs may exhaust the man, but not eject the burden. Sorrow, then, would have been as silent as thought, as severe as philosophy. It would have been rested in inward senses, tacit dislikes; and the whole scene of it been transacted in sad and silent reflections.... And, lastly, for the affection of fear: It was then the instrument of caution, not of anxiety; a guard, and not a torment to the breast that had it. It is now indeed an unhappiness, the disease of the soul: it flies from a shadow, and makes more dangers than it avoids; it weakens the judgment and betrays the succors of reason: so hard is it to tremble and not to err, and to hit the mark with a shaking hand. Then it fixt upon Him who is only to be feared, God; and yet with a filial fear, which at the same time both fears and loves. It was awe without amazement, dread without distraction. There was then a beauty even in this very paleness. It was the color of devotion, giving a luster to reverence and a gloss to humility. Thus did the passions then act without any of their present jars, combats, or repugnances; all moving with the beauty of uniformity and the stillness of composure; like a well-governed army, not for fighting, but for rank and order. I confess the Scripture does not expressly attribute these several endowments to Adam in his first estate. But all that I have said, and much more, may be drawn out of that short aphorism, "God made man upright." And since the opposite weaknesses infest the nature of man fallen, if we will be true to the rules of contraries we must conclude that these perfections were the lot of man innocent.... Having thus surveyed the image of God in the soul of man, we are not to omit now those characters of majesty that God imprinted upon the body. He drew some traces of His image upon this also, as much as a spiritual substance could be pictured upon a corporeal. As for the sect of the Anthropomorphites, who from hence ascribe to God the figure of a man, eyes, hands, feet, and the like, they are too ridiculous to deserve a confutation. They would seem to draw this impiety from the letter of the Scripture sometimes speaking of God in this manner. Absurdity! as if the mercy of Scripture expressions ought to warrant the blasphemy of our opinions; and not rather to show us that God condescends to us only to draw us to Himself; and clothes Himself in our likeness only to win us to His own. The practise of the papists is much of the same nature, in their absurd and impious picturing of God Almighty; but the wonder in them is the less since the image of a deity may be a proper object for that which is but the image of a religion. But to the purpose: Adam was then no less glorious in his externals; he had a beautiful body, as well as an immortal soul. The whole compound was like a well-built temple, stately without, and sacred within. The elements were at perfect union and agreement in His body; and their contrary qualities served not for the dissolution of the compound, but the variety of the composure. Galen, who had no more divinity than what his physic taught him, barely upon the consideration of this so exact frame of the body, challenges any one, upon a hundred years' study, to find out how any the least fiber, or most minute particle, might be more commodiously placed, either for the advantage of use or comeliness. His stature erect, and tending upward to his center; his countenance majestic and comely, with the luster of a native beauty that scorned the poor assistance of art or the attempts of imitation; His body of so much quickness and agility that it did not only contain but also represent the soul; for we might well suppose that where God did deposit so rich a jewel He would suitably adorn the case. It was a fit workhouse for sprightly, vivid faculties to exercise and exert themselves in; a fit tabernacle for an immortal soul, not only to dwell in, but to contemplate upon; where it might see the world without travel, it being a lesser scheme of the creation, nature contracted a little cosmography or map of the universe. Neither was the body then subject to distempers, to die by piecemeal, and languish under coughs, catarrhs, or consumptions. Adam knew no disease so long as temperance from the forbidden fruit secured him. Nature was his physician, and innocence and abstinence would have kept him healthful to immortality. The two great perfections that both adorn and exercise man's understanding, are philosophy and religion: for the first of these, take it even among the professors of it where it most flourished, and we shall find the very first notions of common-sense debauched by them. For there have been such as have asserted, "that there is no such thing in the world as motion: that contradictions may be true." There has not been wanting one that has denied snow to be white. Such a stupidity or wantonness had seized upon the most raised wits that it might be doubted whether the philosophers or the owls of Athens were the quicker sighted. But then for religion; what prodigious, monstrous, misshapen births has the reason of fallen man produced! It is now almost six thousand years that far the greater part of the world has had no other religion but idolatry: and idolatry certainly is the first-born of folly, the great and leading paradox, nay, the very abridgment and sum total of all absurdities. For is it not strange that a rational man should worship an ox, nay, the image of an ox? That he should fawn upon his dog? Bow himself before a cat? Adore leeks and garlic, and shed penitential tears at the smell of a deified onion? Yet so did the Egyptians, once the famed masters of all arts and learning. And to go a little further, we have yet a stronger instance in Isaiah, "A man hews him down a tree in the wood, and a part of it he burns, with the residue thereof he maketh a god." With one part he furnishes his chimney, with the other his chapel. A strange thing that the fire must first consume this part and then burn incense to that. As if there was more divinity in one end of the stick than in the other; or, as if he could be graved and painted omnipotent, or the nails and the hammer could give it an apotheosis! Briefly, so great is the change, so deplorable the degradation of our nature, that whereas we bore the image of God, we now retain only the image of man. In the last place, we learn hence the excellency of Christian religion, in that it is the great and only means that God has sanctified and designed to repair the breaches of humanity, to set fallen man upon his legs again, to clarify his reason, to rectify his will, and to compose and regulate his affections. The whole business of our redemption is, in short, only to rub over the defaced copy of the creation, to reprint God's image upon the soul, and, as it were, to set forth nature in a second and fairer edition; the recovery of which lost image, as it is God's pleasure to command, and our duty to endeavor, so it is in His power only to effect; to whom be rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, both now and forever more. Amen. END OF VOL. II. 
18578	----	OUR UNITARIAN GOSPEL B M. J. SAVAGE "The good news of the blessed God" BOSTON GEO. II. Ews, 141 FRANKLIN STREET 1898. Dedication TO THOSE WHO BELIEVE THAT THE MESSAGE OF GOD TO HIS CHILDREN MUST BE ONE OF LIFE AND HOPE INSTEAD OF A THEOLOGY WHICH TEACHES DEATH AND DESPAIR. NOTE. The sermons which make up this volume were spoken in the Church of the Messiah during the season of 1897-98. They are printed as delivered, not as literature, but for the sake of preaching to a larger congregation than can be reached on Sunday morning. CONTENTS. UNITARIANISM "WHAT DO YOU IN PLACE OF WHAT YOU TAKE AWAY?" ARE THERE ANY CREEDS WHICH IT IS WICKED FOR US TO QUESTION? WHY HAVE UNITARIANS NO CREED? THE REAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE PRESENT RELIGIOUS DISCUSSION DOUBT AND FAITH - BOTH IS LIFE A PROBATION ENDED BY DEATH? SIN AND ATONEMENT PRAYER, AND COMMUNION WITH GOD THE WORSHIP OF GOD MORALITY NATURAL, NOT STATUTORY REWARD AND PUNISHMENT THINGS WHICH DOUBT CANNOT DESTROY EVOLUTION LOSES NOTHING OF VALUE TO MAN WHY ARE NOT ALL EDUCATED PEOPLE UNITARIANS? WHERE IS THE EVANGELICAL CHURCH? UNITARIANISM. THROUGH the lack of having made themselves familiar with the matter, there is a common and, I think, a widespread impression among people generally that Unitarianism is a new-fangled notion, a modern fad, a belief held only by a few, who are one side of the main currents of religious life and advance. Even if it were new, even if it were confined to the modern world, this would not necessarily be anything against it. The Copernican theory of the universe is new, is modern. So are most of the great discoveries that characterize and glorify the present age. But in the case of Unitarianism this cannot be said. It is not new: it is very old. And, before I come to discuss and outline a few of its great principles, it seems to me well that we should get in our minds a background of historic thought, that we may see a little what are the sources and origins of this Unitarianism, and may understand why it is that there is a new and modern birth of it in the modern world. All races start very far away from any Monotheistic or Unitarian belief. The Hebrews are no exception to that rule. The early part of the Bible shows very plain traces of the fact that the Jews were polytheists and nature-worshippers. If I should translate literally the first verse of the Bible, it would read in this way: In the beginning the Strong Ones created the heavens and the earth. "The word that we have translated God is in the plural; and I have already given you its meaning. This is only a survival, a trace, of that primeval belief which the Jews shared with all the rest of the world." From this polytheistic position the people took a step forward to a state of mind which Professor Max Muller calls henotheism; that is, they believed in the real existence of many gods, but that they were under allegiance to only one, their national Deity, and that him only they must serve. I suppose this state of thought was maintained throughout the larger part of the history of the Hebrew nation. You will find traces constantly, in the early part of the Old Testament, at any rate, of the belief of the people in the other gods, and their constant tendency to fall away to the worship of these other gods. But by and by all this was outgrown, and left behind; and the Hebrew people came to occupy a position of monotheism, spiritual monotheism, that is, they were passionate Unitarians, so far as the meaning of that word is concerned. Though, of course, I would not have you understand that many, perhaps most, of the principles which are held today under the name of Unitarian were known to them at that time, or would have been accepted, had they been known. In the sense, however, of believing in the oneness of God, they were Unitarians. Now, when Christianity comes into the world, what shall we say? It is the assumption on the part of most of the old- time churches that Jesus made it perfectly plain to his disciples that he was a divine being, that he claimed to be one himself, and that the claim was recognized. So far, however, as any authentic record with which we are familiar goes, Jesus himself was a Unitarian. All the disciples were Unitarians. Paul was a Unitarian. The New Testament is a Unitarian book from beginning to end. The finest critics of the world will tell you that there is no trace of any other teaching there. And so, for the first three hundred years of the history of the Church, Unitarianism was its prevailing doctrine. I have no very good memory for names. So I have brought here a little leaflet which contains some that I wish to speak of. Among the Church Fathers, Clement, Polycarp, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Origen, and Lactantius, all of them in their writings make it perfectly clear and unquestioned that the belief of the Church, the majority belief for the first three centuries, was Unitarian. Of course, the process of thought here and there was going on which finally culminated in the doctrine of the Trinity. That is, people were beginning more and more to exalt, as they supposed, the character, the office, the mission of Jesus; coming more and more to believe that he was something other than a man, that he was above and beyond humanity. But one other among the Fathers, Justin Martyr, one of the best known of all, takes care to point out explicitly his belief. I will read you just two or three words from it. He says: "There is a Lord of the Lord Jesus, being his Father and God, and the Cause of his existence." This belief, then, was universal, practically universal, throughout the first three centuries. But the process of growth was going on which finally culminated in the controversy which was settled by the Council of Nicaea, held in the early part of the fourth century; that is, the year 325. The leaders of this controversy, as you know, were Arius, on the Unitarian side, and Athanasius, fighting hard for the doctrine then new in the Church, of the Trinity. The majority of the bishops and leading men of the Church at that time were on the side of Arius; but at last the Emperor Constantine settled the dispute. Now you know that the sceptre of a despotic emperor may not reason, may not think; but it is weightier than either reason or thought in the settlement of a controversy like this at such a period in the history of the world. So Constantine settled the controversy in favor of the Trinitarians; and henceforth you need not wonder that Unitarianism did not grow, for it was mercilessly repressed and crushed out for the next thousand years. Unitarianism, however, is not alone in this. Let me call your attention to a fact of immense significance in this matter. All this time the study of science and philosophy, that dared to think beyond the limits of the Church's doctrine, were crushed out. There was no free philosophy, there was no free study of science, there was no free anything for a thousand years. The secular armed forces of Europe, with penalties of imprisonment, of the rack, of the fagot, of torture of every kind, were enlisted against anything like liberty of thinking. So you need not wonder, then, that there was neither any science nor any Unitarianism to be heard of until the Renaissance. What was the Renaissance? It was the rising again of human liberty, the possibility once more of man's freedom to think and study. Though the armed forces of Europe were for a long time against it, the rising tide could not be entirely rolled back, and so it gained on human thought and human life more and more. And out of this the Renaissance came, the new birth of science, on the one hand, and on the other, issuing in the Reformation's assertion of the right of thought and of private judgment in matters of religion; and along with this latter the rebirth of Unitarianism, its reappearance again as a force in the history of the world. During this Reformation period there are many names of light and power, among them being Servetus, whom Calvin burned because he was a Unitarian; Laelius and Faustus Socinus, Bernardino Ochino, Blandrata, and Francis David; and, more noted in some ways than any of them, Giordano Bruno, the man who represents the dawn of the modern world more significantly than any other man of his age, not entirely a Unitarian, but fighting a battle out of which Unitarianism sprung, freedom of thought, the right of private judgment, the scientific study of the universe, the attempt, unhampered by the Church's dogma or power, to understand the world in which we live. As a result of this Renaissance, what happened? Let me run over very rapidly the condition of things in Europe at the present time, with some glances back, that you may see that Unitarianism has played just as large a part as you could expect it to play, larger and grander than you could expect it, considering the conditions. In Hungary, one of the few countries where freedom of thought in religion has been permitted, there has been a grand organization of the Unitarian Church for more than three hundred years, not only churches, but a Unitarianism that has controlled colleges and universities and directed the growth of learning. Let us look to the North. In Sweden and Norway it is still a crime to organize a church that teaches that Jesus is not God. So we may expect to find no Unitarian churches there; though there are many and noble Unitarian men, thinkers and teachers. Come to Germany. There are no organized Unitarian churches under that name here; but there is a condition of things that is encouraging for us to note. There is a union of the Protestant organizations, in which the liberals, or Unitarians, are free, and have their part without any question as to their doctrine. There are hundreds and thousands of Unitarians in South Germany. In the city of Bremen I called on a clergyman who had translated one of my books, and found out from him the condition of things there. The cathedral of Bremen has half a dozen different preachers attached to it. Some of them are orthodox, and some are Unitarian, all perfectly free; living happily together in this way, and the people at liberty to come and listen to which one of them they choose. This is not an uncommon thing in Germany. That is the condition of things, then, there. In Holland there are no Unitarian churches, no churches going by that name; but there are thousands of Unitarians particularly among the educated and leading men, and one university, that of Leyden, entirely in control of the liberal religious leaders of the country. When you come to France, which you know is dominantly Catholic, you still find a large body of Protestants; but one wing of their great organization is virtually if not out and out Unitarian. And a few of the most noted preachers of the modern time in France have been Unitarians. I have had correspondence with men there which showed that they were perfectly in sympathy with our aims, our purposes, our work. In Transylvania and Poland there were large numbers of Unitarian churches which were afterwards crushed out. You find, then, all over Europe, all over civilization, just as much Unitarianism as you would expect to find, when you consider the questions as to whether the law permits it and as to whether the people are educated and free. I should like, not for the sake of boasting, but simply that you may see that you are in good company, to mention the names of some of those who are foremost in our thought. Take Mazzini, the great leader of Italy; take Castelar, one of the greatest men in modern Spain; take Kossuth, the flaming patriot of Hungary, all Unitarian men. Now let us come a step nearer home: let us consider England, and note that just the moment free thought was allowed, you find Unitarianism springing into existence. Milton was a Unitarian; Locke, one of the greatest of English philosophers, a Unitarian; Dr. Lardner, one of its most famous theological scholars, a Unitarian; Sir Isaac Newton, one of the few names that belong to the highest order of those which have made the earth glorious, a Unitarian. And, then, when we come to later England, we find another great scientist, comparatively modern, Dr. Priestley, who, coming to this country after he had made the discovery of oxygen which made him famous for all time, established the first Unitarian church in our neighbor city of Philadelphia. The first Unitarian church which took that name in the modern world was organized in London by Dr. Theophilus Lindsey in 1774; and its establishment coincides with the great outburst of freedom that distinguished the close of the eighteenth century. You must not look for Unitarians where there is no liberty; for it is a cardinal principle of their thought and their life. Soon after the London movement, the first Unitarian church in this country was organized, or rather the first Unitarian church came into existence. It was the old King's Chapel of Boston, an Anglican church, which came out and took the name Unitarian. There is a very bright saying in connection with this old church, which I will pause long enough to repeat, because there is a principle in it as well as a great deal of wit. They kept there the old English church service, except that it was purged, according to their point of view, from all Trinitarian belief. It is said that Dr. Bellows, who was attending a service there some years ago, had with him an English gentleman as a visitor. This man picked up the service, looked it over, and, turning to Dr. Bellows, with a sarcastic look on his face, said, "Ah I see that you have here the Church of England service watered." Whereupon Dr. Bellows, with his power of ready wit, replied, No, my dear sir, not watered, washed. King's Chapel, then, was the first Unitarian church in this country. But the number grew rapidly, and in a few years perhaps half, or more than half, of the old historic Puritan and Pilgrim churches in New England had become Unitarian, including in that number the old First Church of Plymouth. Now, before I go on to discuss the principles underlying our movement, I wish to call your attention to a few more names; and I trust you will pardon me for this. There is no desire for vain-glory in the enumeration. I simply wish that people should know, what only a few do know, who have been Unitarians in the past, and what great names, leading authoritative names in the world's literature and science and art, find here their place. Among the Fathers of the Revolution, all the Adamses, Dr. Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and many another were avowed Unitarians. And, when we come to modern times, it is worth your noting that all our great poets in this country, Bryant, Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Lowell, and in this city Stedman, are Unitarian names. Then the leading historians, Bancroft, Motley, Prescott, Sparks, Palfrey, Parkman, and John Fiske, are Unitarians. Educators, like Horace Mann, like the last seven presidents of Harvard University, Unitarians. Great scientists, like Agassiz, Peirce, Bowditch, Professor Draper, Unitarians. Statesmen and public men, like Webster, Calhoun, the Adamses, the Hoars, Curtis. Two of our great chief justices, Marshall and Parsons. Supreme Court Judges, Story and Miller. Literary men, like Whipple, Hawthorne, Ripley, and Bayard Taylor; and eminent women, such as Margaret Fuller, Lydia Maria Child, Lucretia Mott, Helen Hunt Jackson, Mrs. Mary A. Livermore, and Mrs. Julia Ward Howe. I mention these, that you may know the kind of men, ethical, scientific, judicial, political, literary, who have been distinguished, as we think from our point of view, by being followers of this grand faith of ours. And now I wish you to note again, what I hinted at a moment ago, that it is not an accident that Unitarianism should spring into being in the modern world coincidently with the great movements of liberty in France and England, and the outburst that culminated in our own Revolution and the establishment here of a State without a king as well as of a church without a bishop. Wherever you have liberty and education, there you have the raw materials out of which to make the free, forward looker in religious thought and life. Now what are the three principles out of which Unitarianism is born? First, I have already intimated it, but I wish to emphasize it again for a moment with an addition, Liberty. Humanity at last had come to a time in its history when it had asserted its right to be free; not only to cast off fetters that hampered the body, not only to dethrone the despots that made liberty impossible in the State, but to think in the realm of religion, to believe it more honorable to God to think than to cringe and be afraid in his presence. Second, coincident with the birth of Unitarianism is an enlargement and a reassertion of the conscience of mankind. A demand for justice. Just think for a moment, and take it home to your hearts, that up to the time when this free religious life was born, according to the teaching of all the old creeds, justice and right had been one thing here among men and another thing enthroned in the heavens. The idea has always been that might made right, that God, because he was God, had a right to do anything, though it controverted and contradicted all the ideas of human righteousness; and that we still must bow in the dust, and accept it as true. If I could be absolutely sure that God had done something which contradicted my conscience, I should say that probably my conscience was wrong. I should wait at any rate, and try to find out. But, when I find that the condition of things is simply this, that certain fallible, unjust, uneducated, barbaric people have said that God has done certain things, then it is another matter. I have no direct word from God: I have only the report of men whose authority I have no adequate reason to accept. At any rate, the world came to the point where it demanded that goodness on earth should be goodness up in heaven, too; that God should at least be as just and fair as we expect men to be. And that, if you will think it out a little carefully, is enough to revolutionize the theology of the world; for the picture of the character of God as contained in the old theologies is even horribly unjust, as judged by any human standard. In the third place, Unitarianism sprang out of a new elevation of love and tenderness. As men became more and more civilized, they became more tender-hearted; and they found it impossible to believe that the Father in, heaven should not be as kind and loving as the best father on earth. And here, again, if you think it out, you will find that this is enough to compel a revolution of all the old theological ideas of the world. Just as soon, then, as the civilized modern world became free, there was a new expansion of the sense of the right to think; there was a new expansion of conscience, the insistent demand for justice; there was a new expansion of tenderness and love; and out of these, characterized by these, having these in one sense for its very soul and body, came Unitarianism. Now another point. It is commonly assumed by those who have not studied the matter that, because Unitarians have no printed and published creed, they are all abroad in their thinking. They take this for granted; and so it is assumed by people who speak to me on the subject. They think that there must be just as many views of things as there are individuals. If there are any persons here having this idea, perhaps I shall astonish them by the statement I am going to make. After more than twenty years of experience as a Unitarian minister, I have come to the conviction that there is not a body of Christians in the world to-day, not Catholic or Presbyterian or Methodist or Congregational or any other, that is so united in its purposes, not only, but in its beliefs, as these very Unitarians. And the fact is perfectly natural. Take the scientific men of the world. They do not expect a policeman after them if they do not hold certain scientific opinions. There is no authority to try them for heresy or to turn them out of your society unless they hold certain scientific ideas. They have no sense of compulsion except to find and accept that which they discover to be true. The one aim of science is the truth. There is no motive for anything else. And truth being one, mark you, and they being free to seek for it, and all of them caring simply for that, they naturally come together, inevitably come together. So that, without any external power or orthodox compulsion, the scientific men of the world are substantially at one as to all the great principles. They discuss minor matters; but, when they discuss, they are simply hunting for a deeper truth, not trying to conquer each other. Now Unitarians are precisely in this position. The only thing any of us desire is the truth. We are perfectly free to seek for the truth; and, the truth being one, we naturally tend towards it, and, tending towards it, we come together. So there is, as I said, greater unanimity of opinion in regard to the great essential points among Unitarians than among any other body in Christendom. Now, as briefly as I can, I want to analyze what I regard as the fundamental principles of Unitarianism. I am not going to give you a creed, I am not going to give you my creed: I am going to give you the great fundamental principles which characterize and distinguish Unitarians. First, liberty, freedom of the individual to think, think as he will or think as he must; but not liberty for the sake of itself. Liberty for the sake of finding the truth; for we believe that people will be more likely to find the truth if they are free to search for it than they will if they are threatened or frightened, or if they are compelled to come to certain preordained conclusions that have been settled for them. Freedom, then, for the sake of finding the truth. Second, God. The deep-down conviction that wisdom, power, love, that is, God, is at the heart of the universe. Third, that God is not only wisdom and power and love, but that he is the universal Father, not merely the Father of the elect, not merely the Father of Christians, not merely the Father of civilized people, but the Father of all men, equally, lovingly, tenderly the Father of all men. In the next place, being the Father of all men, he would naturally wish to have them find the truth. So we believe in revelation. Not in revelation confined to one book or one epoch in the history of the world, though we do not deny the revelation contained in them. We believe that all truth, through whatever medium it comes to the world, is in so far a revelation of our Father; and it is infallible revelation when it is demonstrably true, and not otherwise. The next step, then: in the words of Lucretia Mott, we believe that truth should be taken for authority, and not authority for truth. The only authority in the world is the truth. The only thing to which intellectually a free Unitarian can afford to bow is ascertained and demonstrated truth. We believe, then, in revelation. In the next place, we believe in incarnation. Not in the complete incarnation of God in one man, in one country, in one age, in the history of the world. We believe in the incarnation of God progressively in humanity. All that is true, all that is beautiful, all that is good, is so much of God incarnate in his children, and reaching ever forth and forward to higher blossoming and grander fruitage. The difference between Jesus and other men, as we hold it, is not a difference in kind: it is a difference in degree. So he is the son of our Father, our elder brother, our friend, our leader, our helper, our inspiration. The next principle of Unitarianism is that character is salvation. We do not even say that character is a condition of salvation. Character is salvation. A man who is right, who is in perfect accord with the law and life of God, is safe, in this world, in all worlds, in this year, in all future time. And, then, lastly, we believe in the eternal and universal hope. We believe that God, just because he is God, is under the highest conceivable obligation, not to me only, but to himself, to see to it that every being whom he has created shall sometime, somewhere, in the long run, find that gift of life a blessing, and not a curse. We believe in retribution, universal, quick, unescapable; for we believe that this is mercy, and that through this is to come salvation. These, then, are the main principles, as I understand them, of Unitarianism. There is one point more now that I must touch on. When I was considering the question of giving this series of sermons, one of my best friends raised the question as to whether I had better put the word Unitarian? into the title. He was afraid that it might prejudice people who did not like the name, and keep them from listening to what I had to say. This is a common feeling on the part of Unitarians. I was trained as a boy, and through all my youth and early manhood in the ministry, to look with aversion, suspicion, on Unitarianism, and to hate the name. But to-day, after more than twenty years of experience in the Unitarian ministry, I have come to the conviction, which I wish to suggest to you, that it is the most magnificent name in the religious history of the world; and I, for one, wish to hoist it as my flag, to inscribe it on my banner, not because I care for a name, but because of that which it covers and comprehends. Now, not in the slightest degree in the way of prejudice against other names or to find fault with them, let me note a few of them, and then compare Unitarianism with them. Take the word "Anglican," for example, the name of the Church of England. What does it mean? Of course, you know it is simply a geographical name. It defines nothing as to the Church's government or belief or anything else. There is the word "Episcopal," which simply means a church that is governed by bishops; that is all. Take the word "Presbyterian," from a Greek word which means an elder, a church governed by its old men or its elders. No special significance about that. Then "Baptist," signifying that the people who wear that name believe that baptism always means immersion, indicating no other doctrine by which that body is known, or its method of government. "Congregational," no doctrine significance there. It simply means a church whose power is lodged in the congregation. It is democratic in its methods of government. "Methodist,", applied to the members of a particular church because they were considered over-exact or methodical in their ways. There is no governmental significance there. The name Catholic? or Universal? is chiefly significant from the fact that the claim implied by it is not true. Now let us look for a moment at the word Unitarian, and see whether it has a right to be placed not only on a level with these, but infinitely above and beyond them in the richness, in the wonder of its meaning. Let me lead you to a consideration of it. I want you to note that unity? is the one word of more significance than any other in the history of man; and that it is growing in its depth, its comprehensiveness. What have we discovered? We have discovered in this modern world, only a few years ago, that this which we see, the earth, the stars, and all the wonders of the heavens, is one, a universe. Not only that. We have discovered the unity of force. There are not, as primitive man supposed, a thousand different powers in the universe, antagonistic and fighting with each other. We have learned to know that there is just one force in the universe. That light, heat, electricity, magnetism, all these marvellous and diverse varieties of forces, are one force, and can be at the will and skill of man converted into each other. Next, we have learned that there is one law in the universe. Should we not be Unitarians? Should we not believe in the unity of God, when we can see, as far as the telescope can reach on the one hand and the microscope on the other, one eternal, changeless Order? Another point. We have learned the unity of substance. We know how Comte, the famous French scientist, advised his followers not to attempt to find out anything about the fixed stars, because, he said, such knowledge was forever beyond the reach of man. How long had Comte been dead before we discovered the spectroscope? And now we know all about the fixed stars. We know that the stuff we step on in the street this morning as we go home from church is the same stuff of which the sun is made, the same stuff as that which flamed a few years ago as a comet, the same stuff as that which shines in Sirius, in suns so many miles away that it takes millions of years for their light to reach us. One stuff, one substance, throughout the universe; and this poor old, tear-wet earth of ours is a planet shining in the heavens as much as any of them, of the same glorious material of which they are made. Then, again, we have discovered the unity of life. From the little tiny globule of protoplasm up to the brain of Shakspere, one life throbbing and thrilling with the same divinity which is at the heart of the world. We have discovered not only the unity of life, we have discovered the unity of man. Not a hundred different origins, different kinds of creatures, different-natured beings, but one blood to dwell in every country on the face of the earth: the unity of man. We have discovered the unity of ethics, of righteousness, of right and wrong, one right, one wrong. A million applications, but one goal towards which all those who hunger and thirst after righteousness are striving. One religion: for underneath all the diversity of creeds and religions, barbaric, semi-civilized, civilized, enlightened, we find man, the one child of God, hunting for the clearest light he can command, after the one Father, that is, the one eternal, universal search of the religious life of the race. Religion then one; one unifying purpose; every step that the world takes in its progress leading it towards liberty, towards light, towards truth, towards righteousness, towards peace. One goal, then, for the progress of man. And, then, one destiny. Some day, every soul, no matter how belated, shall arrive; some day, somewhere, every soul, however sin stained, shall arrive; every soul, however small, however distorted, however hindered, shall arrive. One destiny. Not that we are to be just alike; only that some time we are to unfold all that is possible in us, and stand, full statured, perfect, complete, in the presence of our Father. Do I not well, then, to say that Unity, Unitarianism, is a magnificent name, a name to be flung out to the breeze as our banner under which we will fight for God and man; a name beside which all others pale into insignificance; a name that sums up the secret, the centre, the hope, the outcome of the universe? Greatest name in the religious history of man, it coincides with that magnificent hope so grandly uttered by Tennyson, "One God, one law, one element, And one far-off divine event, To which the whole creation moves." "WHAT DO YOU GIVE IN PLACE OF WHAT YOU TAKE AWAY?" MY theme is the answer to the question, What do you give in place of what you take away? For my text I have chosen two significant passages of Scripture. One is from the seventh chapter of Hebrews, the nineteenth verse; and it sets forth, as I look at it, the drift and outcome of the process of which we are a part, the bringing in of a better hope. Then from the eleventh chapter of Hebrews, the thirty- ninth and fortieth verses, expressing the relation in which we stand to those who have looked for God and his work in the past: And these all, having obtained a good report through faith, received not the promise; God having provided some better thing for us, that they without us should not be made perfect. What do you give in place of that which you take away? This is a question which is proposed to Unitarians over and over and over again. It is looked upon as an unanswerable criticism. We are supposed to be people who tear down, but do not build; people who take away the dear hopes and traditional faiths of the past, and leave the world desolate, without God, without hope. Not only is this urged against us, from the other side, but there are a great many Unitarians, possibly, who have not thought themselves out with enough clearness to know the relation between the present conditions of human thought and the past; and sometimes even they may look back with a regretful longing towards something which they have outgrown, and left behind. I propose this morning to answer this question, just as simply, as frankly, as I can; to treat it with all reverence, with all seriousness, and try to make clear what it is that the world has lost as the result of the advances of modern knowledge, and what, if anything, it has gained. But while I stand here, on the threshold of my theme, and before I enter upon its somewhat fuller discussion, I wish to urge upon you two or three considerations. It is assumed, by the people who ask this question, that, if we do take away anything, we are under obligation straightway to put something in its place. I wish you to consider carefully as to whether this position is sound. Suppose, for example, that I should discover that some belief that has been held in the past is not well founded, not true. Must I say nothing about it because, possibly, I may not have discovered just what is true? To illustrate what I mean: Prince Alphonso of Castile used to say, as he studied the Ptolemaic theory of the universe, that, if he had been present at creation, he could have suggested a good many very important improvements. In other words, he was keen enough to see that the Ptolemaic theory of the universe was not a good working theory. Must he keep still about that because, forsooth, he was not able to establish another theory of the universe in its place? Do you not see that the criticism, the testing of positions which are held, are the primary steps in the direction of finding some larger and grander truth, provided these positions are not adequate and do not hold? The Rev. Dr. George A. Gordon, of the historic Old South Church in Boston, told us, in an address which he gave in Brooklyn the other day, that Calvinism was dead; that it was even necessary to clear the face of the earth of it, in order to save our faith in God. At the same time Dr. Gordon said frankly that he had no other as complete and finished system to put in place of it. Was he justified in telling the truth about Calvinism because he has not a ready-made scheme to substitute for it? I wish you to note that I do not concede for an instant that I must not tell the truth about anything that I perceive because I have not a ready-made theory of some kind to put in the place of that which is taken away. It is my business to tell what seems to me true in all reverence, seriousness, earnestness and love, and trust the consequences to God. In the next place, another consideration. I have been talking as though I conceded that Unitarians, or that I myself, sometimes take away things, beliefs. Now I wish to ask you who it is that takes away beliefs. Has Unitarianism ever taken away any faith or hope or trust from the world? Has anybody ever done it? If we pit ourselves against one of God's eternal truths, is that truth going to suffer? Rather shall we not beat ourselves to pieces against God's adamant? If a thing is true, nobody is going to take it away from the world; for nobody has the power to uproot or destroy a divine truth. Who is it, then, that takes these beliefs away? Is it not just this? Does it not mean that men have discovered that what they supposed to be true is not true, and it is the old belief that passes away in the presence of a larger and clearer light? Is not that the process? When Magellan, for instance, demonstrated that this planet of ours was round by circumnavigating it, the ship returning to the port from which it started, did he take away the old flat earth, fixed and anchored, immovable, around which the sun moved? Why, there was no old, flat and anchored, stationary earth to take away. There never had been. All Magellan did was to demonstrate a new, higher, grander truth. He took away a misconception from the minds of ignorant and uneducated people, and helped put one of God's grand, luminous truths in the place of it. That is all he did. It is modern intelligence, increasing knowledge, larger, clearer light that takes away old beliefs. But, if these old beliefs are not true, it simply means that we are discovering what is true; that is, having a clearer view and vision of God's ways and methods of governing the world. I wish you to note, then, in this second place, that Unitarianism does not take away anything. One third consideration: Suppose we did. Suppose we took away belief in the existence of God. Suppose we took away belief in man as a soul, leaving him simply an animal. Suppose we took away faith in continued existence after death. Suppose we had the power to sweep all of these grand beliefs out of the human mind. Then what? If I had my choice, I would do it gladly, with tearful gratitude, rather than keep the old beliefs of the last two thousand years. The late Henry Ward Beecher, in a review article published not long before his death, said frankly this which I am saying now, and which I had said a good many times before Mr. Beecher's article was written, that no belief at all is infinitely, unspeakably better than those horrible beliefs which have dominated and darkened the world. I would rather believe in no God than in a bad God, such as he has been painted. And, if I had my choice of the future, what would it be? I have, I trust, just over there, father, mother, two brothers, numberless dear ones; and I hope to see them with a hope dearer than any other which I cherish. But, if I were standing on the threshold of heaven itself, and these loved ones were beckoning me to come in, and I had the choice between an eternity of felicity in their presence and eternal sleep, I would take the sleep rather than take this endless joy at the cost of the unceasing and unrelieved torment of the meanest soul that ever lived. And I would have no great respect for any man who would not. I would not care to purchase my joy at the price of endless pangs, the ascending smoke of torment, the wail going up to the sweet heavens forever and ever and ever. So, even if it were a choice between no belief at all and the old beliefs, the darkness would be light to me; and I would embrace it with joy rather than take the selfish felicity of those men who estimate it as a part of their future occupation to be leaning over the battlements of heaven and witnessing the torture of the damned. This, though sounding so terrible to us now, is good old Christian doctrine, which has often been avowed. Thank God we are outgrowing it. These, then, for preliminary considerations. Now let me raise the question as to what has been taken away. You remember I said that I have taken nothing away, Unitarianism has taken nothing away. But the advance of modern knowledge, the larger, clearer revelation of God, has taken away no end of things. What are they? Let me make two very brief statements right here. I am in the position, this morning, of appearing to repeat myself; that is, I must go over a good many points that I have made from this platform before. But please understand that it is not on account of lapse of memory on my part. I am doing it with a distinct end in view, which can only be attained by these steps. In the next place, my treatment has so much ground to cover that what I say will appear somewhat in the nature of a catalogue; but I see no other way in which to make the definite statement I wish to lay before you. I am going to catalogue, first, a lot of the things that modern knowledge has taken away. Then I am going to tell you some of the things that modern knowledge is putting in place of what it has removed. In the first place, the old universe is taken away; that is, that little tiny play-house affair, not so large as our solar system, which in the first chapters of Genesis God is reported to have made as a carpenter working from outside makes a house, inside of six days. That little universe, that is, the story of creation as told in the early chapters of Genesis, is absolutely gone. I shall tell you pretty soon what has taken the place of it. Secondly, the God of the Old Testament, the God of most of the creeds has been taken away, that God who was jealous, who was partial, who was angry; who built a little world, and called it good, and then inside of a few days saw it slip out of his control into the hands of the devil, either because he could not help it or did not wish to; who watched this world develop for a little while, and then, because it did not go as he wanted it to, had to drown it, and start over again; the God who in the Old Testament told the people that slavery was right, provided they did not enslave the members of their own nation, but only those outside of it; the God who indorsed polygamy, telling a man that he was at liberty to have just as many wives as he wanted and could obtain, and that he was free to dispose of them by simply giving them a little notice and telling them to quit; the God who indorsed hypocrisy and lying on the part of his people; the God who sent a little light on one little people along one edge of the Mediterranean, and left all the rest of the world in darkness; the God who is to damn all of these people who were left in darkness because they did not know that of which they never had any chance to hear; the God who is to cast all his enemies into the pit, trampling them down, as Edwards pictures so horribly to us, in his hate for ever and ever. This God has been taken away. In the third place, the story of Eden, the creation of man and then immediately the fall of man and the resulting doctrine of total depravity, this has been taken away. That man was made in the image of God, and then, inside of a few days, fell into the hands of the Power of Evil, and that since that day he has been the legitimate subject here on this earth of the prince of this world, that is, the devil, and that is taught both in the Old Testament and in the New, that man is this kind of a being, this is forever gone. There is no rational, intelligent, free belief in it left. Then the old theory of the Bible has been taken away, that theory which makes it a book without error or flaw, and makes us under the highest obligation to receive all its teachings as the veritable word of God, whether they seem to us hideous, blasphemous, immoral, degrading, or not. This is gone. Professor Goldwin Smith, in an article published within a year, treats the belief, the continued holding to this old theory about the Bible, under the head of Christianity's "Millstone." He writes from the point of view of the old belief; but he says, if Christianity is going to be saved, this millstone must be taken off from about its neck, and allowed to sink into the sea. If we hold that theory, what? Why, then, we must still believe that, in order to help on the slaughter of his enemies on the part of a barbarian general, God stopped the whole machinery of the universe for hours until he got through with his killing. We must believe the literal story of Jonah's being swallowed by the whale. We must believe no end of incredibilities; and then, if we dare to read with our eyes open, we must believe immoral things, cruel things, about men and about God, things which our civilization would not endure, were it not for the power of tradition, which hallows that which used to be believed in the past. This conception of the Bible, then, is gone. Then, in the next place, the blood atonement is gone. What did that mean to the world? It meant that the eternal Father either would not or could not forgive and receive back to his heart his own erring, mistaken, wandering children unless the only begotten Son of God was slaughtered, and we, as the old awful hymn has it, were plunged beneath this fountain of blood I Revolting, terrible, if you stop to think of it for one reasoning moment, that God cannot forgive unless he takes agony out of somebody equal to that from which he releases his own children! That, though embodied still in all the creeds, has been taken away. It is gone, like a long, hideous dream of darkness. Belief in the devil has been taken away. What does that mean? It means that Christendom has held and taught for nearly two thousand years that God is not really King of the universe; that he holds only a divided power, and that here thousands on thousands of years go by, and the devil controls the destiny of this world, and ruins right and left millions on millions of human souls, and that God either cannot help it or does not wish to, one of the two. This belief is taken away. And then, lastly, that which I have touched on by implication already, the belief in endless punishment is taken away. Are you sorry? Does anybody wish something put in the place of this? The belief that all those except the elect, church members, those who have been through a special process called conversion, these, including all the millions on millions outside of Christendom and from the beginning until to-day, have gone down to the flame that is never quenched, the worm that never dies, to linger on in useless torture forever and ever? Simply a monument of what is monstrously called the justice of God! This is gone. Now, friends, just ask yourselves, as you go home, as you think over what I have said this morning, as to whether there is anything else lost. Is there anything of value taken away? Let me run over now in parallel fashion another catalogue to place opposite this one, so that we may see as to what has been our loss and as to whether there has been any gain. In the place of the little, petty universe of Hebrew dream, what have we now? This magnificent revelation of the Copernican students; a universe infinite in its reach and in its grandeur; a universe fit at last to be the home of an infinite God; a universe grand enough to clothe him and express him, to manifest and reveal him; a universe boundless; a universe that has grown through the ages and is growing still, and is to unfold more and more of the divine beauty and glory forevermore. Is there any loss in this exchange? Now as to God. I have pictured to you, in very bald outline, some of the conceptions of God that have been held in the past. What is our God to-day? The heart, the life, the soul, of this infinite universe; justice that means justice; power that means power; love that surpasses all our imagination of love; a God who is eternal goodness; who from the beginning has folded his child man to his heart, whispering all of truth that he could understand, breathing into him all of life that he could contain, inspiring him with all love and tenderness that he could appreciate or employ, and so, in this way, leading him and guiding him through the ages, year by year and century by century, still to something better and finer and higher; a God, not off somewhere in the heavens, to whom we must send a messenger; not a God separated from us by some great gulf that we must bridge by some supposed atonement; a God nearer to us than our breath; a God who hears the whisper of our want, who understands the dawning wish or aspiration before it takes form or shape; a God who loves us better than we love ourselves or love those who are dearest to us; a God who knows better what we need than we know ourselves, and is more ready to give us than fathers are to give good gifts to their children. Is there any loss here? In the third place, the new man that has come into modern thought. Not the broken fragments of a perfect Adam; not a man so crippled intellectually that, as they have been telling us for centuries, it was impossible for him to find the truth, or to know it when he did find it; not a being so depraved, morally, that he never desires any good, and never loves anything which is sweet and fine; a being totally depraved, a being who, as one passage in the Old Testament tells us, is so corrupt his very prayer is a sin; conceived, born, in evil, and all his thoughts tainted, and drifting towards that which is wicked. Not this kind of a man. A man who has been on the planet hundreds of thousands of years, who has been learning by experience, who has been animal, who has been cruel, but who at every step has been trying to find the light, has been becoming a little truer and better; a being who has evolved all that is sweetest and finest in the history of the world; who has made no end of mistakes, who has committed no end of crimes, but who has learned through these processes, and at last has given us some specimens of what is possible by way of development in Abraham and Moses and Elijah and David and Isaiah, and a long line of prophets and seers of the Old Testament time; not perfect, but magnificent types of actual men; who has developed in other nations such men as Gautama, the heroes and teachers of China, like Confucius; then Aristotle, Plato, Socrates; the noble men of Rome; who has given us in the modern world the great poets, the great discoverers, the great philanthropists; those devoted to the highest, sweetest things; musicians and artists; who has given us Shakspere, who has given us, crowning them all, as I believe, by the moral beauty and grandeur of his love, the Nazarene, Jesus, our elder brother, Son of God, and helper of his fellow-man; this humanity that has never fallen; that has been climbing up from the beginning, and not sinking down. Is there any loss here? Then let us see what kind of a Bible modern science and modern discovery and modern scholarship and modern life have given us. Our Bible is the sifted truth of the ages. There is not a passage in it or a line for which we need apologize. There is nothing incredible in it, except as it is incredibly sweet and good and true. It is the truth that has come to men in all ages, no matter spoken by whose lips, no matter written by what pen, no matter wrought out under what conditions or in whatever civilization or under whatever sky. All that is true and sweet and fine is a part of God's revelation of himself to his children, and makes up our Bible, which is not all written yet. Every new truth that shall be discovered in the future will make a new line or a new paragraph or a new chapter. God has been writing it on the rocks, in the stars, in the hearts, on the brains of his children; and his hand does not slacken. He is not tired: he is writing still. He will write to-morrow, and next year, and throughout all the coming time. This is the Bible. We believe, for example, that the saying of the old Egyptian, God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, is just as divine and sweet as when said in the New Testament. We believe that the Golden Rule is just as golden when uttered by Confucius hundreds of years before Jesus as it was afterwards. We believe that the saying about two commandments being the sum and substance of the law was just as holy when Hillel spake them as when Jesus uttered them after his time. All truth is divine, and part of God's divine revelation to his children. Here is our Bible, then. Now let me speak about Jesus, and see if our thought is less precious than the old. In my old days, when I preached in the orthodox church, Jesus was never half so dear, so helpful to me, as he is now. If I thought of him at all, I was obliged to think of him as somehow a second God, who stood between me and the first one, and through whom I hoped deliverance from the law and the justice of the first. I had to think of him as a part of a scheme that seemed to me unjust and cruel, involving the torture of some and the loss of most of the race. You cannot pick the old-time Jesus out of that scheme of which he is a part. I could not love him then as I love him now. I could not think of him as an example to follow; for how can one take the Infinite for an example? How can one follow the absolutely Perfect except afar off? But now I think of Jesus and his cross as the most natural and at the same time the divinest thing in the history of man. Nothing outside of the regular divine order in it. Jesus reveals to me to-day the humanness of God and the divineness of man. And he takes his place in the long line of the world's redeemers, those who have wrought atonement, how? Through faithfulness even unto death. The way we work out the atonement of the world, that is, the reconciliation of the world to God, is by being true to the vision of the truth as it comes to us, no matter by the pathway of what suffering, true as Jesus was true, true even when he thought his Father had forsaken him. Do you know, friends, I think that is the grandest thing in the world. He verily believed that God had forsaken him; and yet he held fast to his trust, to his truth, to his faithfulness, even when swooning away into the unconsciousness of death. There is faith, and there is faithfulness; and he shares this with thousands of others. There are thousands of men who have suffered more than Jesus did dying for his own truth; thousands of martyrs who, with his name on their lips, have gone through greater torture than he did. All these, whoever has been faithful, whoever has suffered for the right, whoever has been true, has helped to work out the atonement, the reconciliation, of the world with God, showing the beauty of truth and bringing men into that admiration of it that helps them to come into accord with the divine life. Then one more point. Instead of the wail of the damned that is never, through all eternity, for one moment hushed in silence, we place the song of the redeemed, an eternal hope for every child born of the race. We do not believe it is possible for a human soul ultimately to be lost. Why? Because we believe in God. God either can save all souls or he cannot. If he can and will not, then he is not God. If he would and cannot, then he is not God. Let us reverently say it: he is under an infinite obligation to his own self, to his own righteousness, to his own truth, his own power, his own love, his own character, to see to it that all souls, some time, are reconciled to him. This does not mean a poor, cheap, an easy salvation. It means that every broken law must have its consequences so long as it remains broken. It means that in this world and through all worlds the law- breaker is to be followed by the natural and necessary results of his thoughts, of his words, of his deeds; but it means that in this punishment the pain is a part of the divine love. For the love of God makes it absolutely necessary that the object of that love shall be delivered from sin and wrong, and brought into reconciliation with himself; and the pain, the necessary results of wrongdoing, are a part of the divine tenderness, a part of the divine faithfulness, a part of the divine love. So we believe that through darkness or through light, through joy or through sorrow, some time, somewhere, every child of God shall be brought into his presence, ready to sing the song of peace and joy and reconciled love. Now, friends, I have gone over all the main points of the theology of our question. I have told you what I think the results of modern study have taken away. I have indicated to you what I believe is to come and take the place of these things that are absolutely gone. Ask yourselves seriously, if you are not one of us, is there a single one of these things that modern investigation is threatening that you really care to keep? If you could choose between the two systems and have your choice settle the validity of them, would you not choose the second, and be grateful to bid good-by to the first? Remember, however, at the end let me say, as I did at the beginning, that, if these things pass away and the other finer things come in their places, Unitarianism is not to be charged by its enemies with destroying the old, neither is it to take the credit on the part of its friends for having created all the new. That distinguishes us as Unitarians from any other form of faith is that we believe in the living, loving, leading God of the modern world, and are ready gladly to take the results of modern investigation, believing that they are only a part of the revelation of the divine truth and the Father's will. We accept these things, stand for them, proclaim them; but we did not create them. If anything is gone that you did not like, we did not take it away. If anything is come that you do like, give God the glory; and let us share with you the joy and praise. ARE THERE ANY CREEDS WHICH IT IS WICKED FOR US TO QUESTION? ANY body of people whatsoever has, of course, an undoubted right to organize on the basis of any belief or principles which it may happen to hold. This, always, on the supposition that those principles or beliefs are not antagonistic to human welfare. They have a right to establish the conditions of membership and limit their numbers as much as they please. For example, suppose a set of persons chanced to hold the belief that the so-called Shakspere plays were written by Bacon. They have a perfect right to organize a society, and to say that nobody shall be a member of that society unless he agrees with them in this belief. If I happen, as I do, to hold some other conviction about the matter, I have no right to blame them because they do not wish me to be a member. I can organize, if I please, another society that shall have for its cardinal doctrinal statement the belief that Shakspere was the author of these plays. There is no need that I should quarrel with people holding these other ideas. Or, if I am a laboring man, in the technical sense of the word that is commonly used to-day, I have a right to organize a society devoted to the furtherance of the eight- hour movement, or any other specific end or aim which seems to me necessary to the welfare of society as organized in the modern world. All this we concede at the outset. People have a perfect right to organize on the basis of their particular beliefs, and to keep out of their organization those persons who do not happen to agree with them. But, and here is a most important consideration, if these beliefs seem to us who are outside to be vital; if they appear to concern us, to touch our well-being, our future hopes, then we certainly have a right to study those beliefs, to criticise them, to put them to the test to see whether they are well founded, whether they have any adequate basis of support. And, still further, if the people holding a certain set of beliefs tell us that they are inspired of God, that they are spokesmen for God, that they have had committed to them a certain definite deposit of faith for the benefit of the world; if they tell us that, unless we agree with them, unless we accept the conditions and come into their organization, then we are opposed to God, are endangering our own souls, and are enemies of the human race, then it becomes not merely our right to look into these matters: does it not become our most solemn duty? Are we not under the highest of all obligations to decide for ourselves one way or the other as to whether these claims are valid? For, if they are, then there is nothing so important for us as that we should accept them and live in accordance with them, join the societies that are organized on them as a basis, do our utmost to extend their acceptance throughout the world. If they are not valid, then we ought to do our very best to prove this also, and help those who are in bondage to these false ideas to attain their liberty, in order that they may join with us in finding out that which is true, in order that together we may work for the discovery of the will of God, and that we may co-operate in helping the world to find and obey that will. You would suppose from the ordinary assumption of those who hold the old creeds, and who have organized their churches on these creeds, as foundation stones, that there had been at the outset a clear, a definite revelation of truth, that it had been unquestioned, that it had come with credentials enough to satisfy the world that the speakers spoke by authority, and that the matter had from the beginning been well understood. It is assumed that we who do not hold these ideas are wilfully wrong, that we are not inclined to accept the divine truth, that it is on account of the hardness and wickedness of our hearts, and that we prefer evil rather than good. We are told that we might know, if we would, that the matter is definite, and has been perfectly well settled from the beginning. This, I say, is the assumption. Let us now, then, investigate the matter for a little while, just as calmly, just as simply, just as dispassionately as we are able. I confess to you, at the outset, that I do not like such a task as to- day seems to be imposed upon me. I do not like to be put in the position of seeming to criticise my fellow- citizens, my friends, and neighbors; but it seems to me that it is more than a task, that it is a duty, and one that I cannot readily escape. I mean as little as possible even to seem to criticise people; but I must look into the foundations of their beliefs, and see whether they are valid, whether there is any reason why we should feel ourselves compelled to-day to accept them. Let us take our place, then, at the outset of Christianity by the side of Jesus and the apostles. Now let us note one strange fact. For the first two or three hundred years the belief of the Church was chaotic, unconfirmed, unsettled. There was dispute and discussion of the most earnest and most bitter kind concerning what are regarded to-day as the very fundamentals of the Christian faith. This would hardly seem possible, would it, if Jesus had made himself perfectly clear and explicit in regard to these matters? If Jesus were really God, and if he came down on to this earth for the one express purpose of telling humanity what kind of moral and spiritual condition it was in, just what it needed in order to be saved, would you not suppose that he would have been so clear that there could have been no honest question about it? If, for example, Jesus knew he was God, ought not he to have told it so plainly that no honest man could go astray about it? If he knew that the human race fell in Adam and was in a condition of loss under the general wrath and curse of God, ought not he to have said something about Adam, something about the Garden of Eden, something about the fall? Yet it never appears anywhere that he did. If he knew it was absolutely necessary for us to hold certain ideas about the Bible, ought not he to have told us? If he knew that the great majority of the human race was going to endless and hopeless torment in the future unless they held certain beliefs, ought not he to have made it plain? But take that which I read as a part of our Scripture lesson this morning, that magnificent picture of the judgment scene, where he divides the sheep on his right hand and the goats on his left. Who are the sheep, and who are the goats? Those who are to be admitted with glad welcome to the presence of the Father are simply those that have been morally good; and those who are told they must be shut out are simply those who have bee morally bad. There is no hint of the necessity of any belief at all. Nothing said about any Bible, about any Trinity, about any faith, about anything that is supposed to be essential as a condition of salvation, not a word. Only the good receive the welcome, and the bad are shut out. That is all. If this is not true, ought he not to have told us something about it, and made it perfectly clear? Now what was the condition of popular belief? Let me illustrate it by one or two points. Origen, for example, one of the most famous of the Church Fathers, believed and preached the pre-existence of the human soul and universal salvation. Now, if Jesus said anything contrary to this belief of universal salvation, either Origen did not know anything about it or he did not regard it as of any authority, one or the other. We cannot conceive of his holding a position of this sort if he had known that Jesus had pronounced explicitly to the contrary. Take another illustration. Two weeks ago this morning I had occasion to quote to you a few words from another of the old Church Fathers, Justin Martyr, who taught explicitly that Jesus was not the equal of the Father, but a subordinate and created being. Now, if Jesus had clearly taught anything approaching the doctrine of the Trinity, is it conceivable that Justin Martyr had not heard of it, or, having heard of it, had not accepted it? At any rate, if these things were true and important, it is inconceivable that the Church Fathers, the very founders of Christianity, should have been all at sea in regard to them, should have held divergent opinions, and should have been discussing these questions one way and the other for three hundred years. Let us now see what we have as a basis for belief in regard to what Jesus really did say. The Gospels grew up in a time when there was no shorthand writing, no reporting. Jesus does not say one word about having any record made of his teaching, does not seem to have considered it of the slightest importance. He simply talks and converses as friend with friend, preaches to the crowds wherever they gather, but says nothing whatever about founding any system of doctrine, says nothing about the importance of having a statement of his doctrine kept. The Gospels, as a matter of fact, did not come into their present shape for many years after his death. How long? The critics are not at one in regard to it. A book has recently been translated from the German, by a professor in the Union Theological Seminary in this State, which says that not a single one of the Gospels was known in its present shape until between the years 150 and 200 A.D. All scholars do not accept this; but they are all at one in the statement that it was a great many years after the death of Jesus before they came into the shape in which we know them to-day. There was, then, no clear record at the first in regard to these matters of belief; and, as I said a moment ago, for the first two or three hundred years the condition of the Church was chaotic. It was a long time coming to a consciousness of itself. Now let us note the time when a few of the creeds were formed, and what are some of their characteristics. Although the Apostles' Creed would seem to take us back to the apostles, we are not to deal with that first, because it was not the first one of the creeds to come into its present shape. The oldest creed that we have to-day is the Nicene. When was that formed? It was agreed upon at the Council of Nicaea, in the early part of the fourth century. Now note, if you please, what influences shaped and determined it. Did those who proposed that this particular clause or that should enter into it have any proof of their belief? Did they even claim to have? Why, the idea of evidence, the thought of proof, was absolutely unknown to the mind of Christendom at that time. Nobody thought of such a thing as proposing to prove that this or that or the other was true. The Nicene Creed came into existence very much, indeed, as does the platform of a political party at the present time. One man fought for this proposition, another man for that one; and at last it was a sort of compromise decided by a majority. And how was the majority reached? Friends, there were bribes, there were threats, there were all kinds of intimidation, there were blows, there was wrangling of every kind, there was banishment, there was murder. There has not been a political platform in the modern world evolved out of such brutal, conflicting, anti-religious conditions as those which prevailed before and in connection with the Council of Nicaea. Anything like evidence? Not heard of or thought of. Anything like quiet brooding of those who supposed they were, under the influence of the Holy Ghost, receiving divine and sacred truth? The farthest possible from any conditions that could be suggested by such a thought. And at the last, though undoubtedly the majority of the Church at that time was Unitarian, as I told you the other day it was the decisive influence of the Emperor Constantine which settled the controversy. Thus came into existence in the fourth century the oldest of the church Creeds which is recognized as authoritative in the Catholic, the Anglican, and the Episcopal churches of the present time. And this Nicene Creed, if I had time to go into it and analyze it, I could show you contains elements which no intelligent man in any of these churches thinks of believing at the present time; and yet nobody dares suggest a change, or the bringing it into accord with what the intelligence of the modern world knows to be true. Let us pass on, and consider for a moment the Apostles' Creed, so called. There was a time in the Church when people really supposed that the apostles were its author. There are persons to-day who have not discovered the contrary. I crossed the ocean a few years ago when on board were a bishop of one of the Western States and a young candidate for orders who was travelling with him as his pupil. I fell into conversation with this young man, and found that he really believed that the twelve clauses of the Apostles' Creed were manufactured by the apostles themselves. He had never discovered anything to the contrary. A still more astonishing fact came to my knowledge last year. During that discussion over Ian McLaren's creed, in which so many people were interested last winter, Chancellor McCracken, of the University of New York, published a letter, in which he referred to the Apostles' Creed as written eighteen hundred years ago. It took my breath away when I read it. I wondered, Could the chancellor of a great University possibly be ignorant of the facts? Would he state that which he knew was not true? I could not explain it either way. I was compelled to think, if he was thoughtless and careless about it, that he had no business to be about a matter of such importance. But he said the Apostles' Creed was written eighteen hundred years ago. Now what are the facts? The apostles had nothing whatever to do with the creed, as everybody knows to-day who chooses to look into the matter. It grew, and was four or five hundred years in growth, one phrase in one shape held in a certain part of the Church, another phrase in another shape held in another part of the Church, people holding nothing so sacred about it but that they were at perfect liberty to change it and add to it and take away from it, until, as we get it to- day, it appeared for the first time in history at about the year 500. And yet it stands in the Church to-day claiming to be the Apostles' Creed. And this Apostles' Creed, if it were a part of the purpose I have in mind this morning, I could analyze, and find that it contains elements which nobody accepts to-day; and yet nobody dares to propose touching it, such is the reverence for that which is old. So much more reverence does the world have for that which is old than for that which is true. If you approach a Churchman in regard to his belief in the resurrection of the body, he will say, Of course, we do not believe in the resurrection of the body: we believe in the resurrection of the soul. But he does not believe in the resurrection of the soul, either. Let me make two statements in regard to this. In the first place, if he does not believe in the resurrection of the body, he has no right to say it, because the House of Bishops, representing the whole Church of the United states, in an authoritative pastoral letter issued within three years, declares that fixity of interpretation is of the essence of the creeds. No man, then, is at liberty to change the interpretation to suit himself. And then, again, nobody, as I say, believes in the resurrection of the soul. Why? Because that statement, with the authority of the House of Bishops that nobody has any business to change or reinterpret, carries with it a world underneath the surface of the earth to which the dead go down; and resurrection means coming up again from that underground world. Nobody believes in any underground world to-day. You cannot be resurrected. That is, you cannot rise again unless you have first gone down. It is the ascent of the soul we believe in to-day, and not its resurrection, much less the resurrection of the body. Now a word in regard to another of the great historic creeds. The third one to be shaped was the Athanasian Creed. Curiously named most of these are. There was a tradition in the Church that Athanasius, who was one of the great antagonists of the Council of Nicaea, wrote this creed called after his name; but, as a matter of fact, the creed was not known in the Church in the shape in which we have it now until at least four or five hundred years after Athanasius was dead. The Athanasian Creed dates from the eighth or ninth century; and in this for the first time there is a clear, explicit, definite formulation of the doctrine of the Trinity. It never had been shaped in perfection until the time of the Athanasian Creed; and this creed contains among other things those famous damnatory clauses? which the Episcopal Church in this country, to their credit be it said, have left out of their Prayer Book. But this Athanasian Creed is obliged to be sung thirteen times every year in the Church of England; and you can imagine with what grace and joy they must sing the statement that, unless a man believes every single word and sentence of it, he shall no doubt perish everlastingly. The Athanasian Creed, then, takes us only to the eighth or ninth century. You see, do you not, that, instead of there having been any clear, explicit, definite statement of church beliefs on the part of Jesus and his apostles, they are long and slow growths, and not built up on the basis of proof or evidence, simply opinions which people came to hold and fight for and preach, until at last they got a majority to believe in them, and they were accepted by some council. I wish now to ask your attention for a few moments to one or two of the modern statements of beliefs. We are face to face here in this modern world with a very strange condition of affairs. I wish I could see the outcome of it. Here are churches printing, publishing, scattering all over America and Europe, statements of belief which perhaps hardly one man in ten among their pew-holders or vestrymen believes. They will tell you they do not believe them; they are almost angry with you if you make the statement that these are church beliefs; and at the same time we are in the curious position of finding that the man who proposes himself as a candidate for the ministry in any of these churches dares not question or doubt these horrible statements. And, if it is found that he does question them after he gets into the ministry, he is in danger of a trial for heresy. We have had a perfect storm here in New York in one of our greatest churches over Dr. Briggs. And what was Dr. Briggs tried for? Simply for raising the question as to whether every part of the Old Testament was infallible. That was all. Another professor in a theological seminary in the West was turned out of his professorship for a similar offence. An Episcopal minister, a friend of mine in Ohio, was turned out of his church for daring to entertain some of the modern ideas which are in the air, and which intelligent people believe everywhere. One of the best known Episcopal ministers in this city to-day has an indictment over his head. It has been there for eight years; and it is only by the good will of his bishop that he is tolerated. His crime is daring to think, and to believe what all the respectable text-books of the modern world teach. And people in the pews are indignant if you say that their Church holds these ideas! It is a curious state of affairs. How long is it going to last? What is to be its outcome? I do not know. But let us look for a moment at another. Let us note one or two points in the Presbyterian Confession of Faith. It teaches still, with what it claims to be absolute authority, that God, before the foundation of the world, selected just the precise number of people that he was going to save; that he did this, not in view of the fact that they were going to be good people at all, but arbitrarily of his own will, not to be touched or changed by anything in their character or conduct. All the rest he is to "pass by "; and they are to go to everlasting woe. The elect are very few: those who are passed by are the many. And why does he do this? Just think for a moment. There is no such colossal egotism, such extreme of selfishness, in all the world as that attributed to God in this Confession of Faith. The one thing he lives for, cares for, thinks of, labors after, is what? His own glory. He saves a few people to illustrate the glory of his grace and mercy. He damns all the rest purely to illustrate the glory of some monstrous thing called his justice. This kind of doctrine we are expected to believe to-day. And worse yet, if anything can be worse. I wonder how many loving, tender mothers in all these churches know it, how many know that the little babe which they clasp to their bosoms with such infinite tenderness and love, which they think of as a gift from the good God, right out of heaven, is an enemy of God, is under the curse and wrath of God? How many of you know that your creed teaches that God hates this blessed little babe, and that, if he does not happen to be one of the elect, he must suffer torment in darkness forever and ever? That is taught in your confession of faith, which I have right here at my hand. The only mitigation of it that I have ever heard of on the part of consistent believers is the saying of Michael Wigglesworth, a famous alleged poet of the Puritan time in New England, when he states explicitly that none of these non-elect children can be saved, but since they are infants, and not such bad sinners as the grown up ones, their punishment shall be mitigated by their having the easiest room in hell. Friends, you smile at this. This poem of Michael Wigglesworth's was a household treasure in New England for a hundred years. No end of editions was sold. It was earnestly, verily believed; and the doctrine is still taught every time that a new edition of the Presbyterian Confession of Faith? is issued in this country or in Europe. Shall we escape these things by going into other churches? Some of them, yes; but the essentials are there in all of them. Take for one moment the Episcopal Prayer Book. I have had friends in the old churches who have become Episcopalians for no reason that I could imagine, except that it seemed to them they were escaping some of the sharpest corners of the old beliefs; and yet, if you will read carefully the form of service for the baptism of infants in the Episcopal Prayer Book as held to-day and in constant use in every Episcopal Church in this country and England and throughout Europe, you will find that it is taught there in the plainest and most forcible way that the unbaptized infant is a child of wrath, is under the dominion of the devil, is destined to everlasting death, and is regenerated only by having a little water placed on its forehead and by a priest saying over him certain wonderful words. Can you believe, friends, for one moment that a little child this minute belongs to the devil, is under his dominion, hated of God, doomed to eternal death, then the priest puts his fingers in some water, touches its forehead, and says, "I baptize thee," etc., and the child, after this is said, five minutes later, God loves, has taken to his arms as one of his own little children, and is going to receive him to eternal felicity forever? Can we believe such things to-day? Do people believe them? If they do not, are they sincere in saying they do, in supporting the institutions that proclaim to the world every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year that they do believe them? I have now said all I am going to about these creeds in any special way. I wish now to discuss the general situation for a little. I have heretofore said, I wish to say it again, to make it perfectly plain and emphasize it, that all these old Creeds are based on the supposed ruin of the race. They have come into existence for the express purpose of saving as many souls as possible from this ruin. They never would have been heard of but for the belief in this ruin. And yet to-day there is not a intelligent man in Christendom that does not know that the doctrine of man's fall and ruin is not only doubtful, but demonstrably untrue. It is not a matter of question: it is settled; and yet these churches go on just as though nothing had happened. Is it sincere? Is it quite honest? Is this the way you use language in Wall Street, in your banks and your stores? Is this the way you maintain your credit as business men? Oh, let us purge these statements of outgrown crudities, cruelties, falsities, blasphemies, infamies! Let us dare to believe that the light of God to-day is holier than the mistakes about Him made by those who walked in darkness. Now let me suggest to you. Every one of these creeds sprang out of a theory of the universe that nobody any longer holds. They are Ptolemaic in their origin, not Copernican. They sprang out of a time when it was believed that this was a little tiny world, and God was outside of it, governing it by the arbitrary imposition of his law. Every one of these creeds is fitted to that theory of things; and that theory of things has passed away absolutely and forever. Consider for just a moment. Why should we pay such extravagant deference to the opinions of men who lived in the dark ages, of the old Church Fathers, of Athanasius, of Arius, of Justin Martyr, of Origen, of Tertullian? Why, friends, just think for a moment. There was hardly a single point connected with this world that they knew anything about. How did it happen that the whole modern world should get on its knees in their presence, as though they knew everything about the Infinite, when they knew next to nothing about the finite? Is there any proof that they knew anything about it? Not one single particle. Think for a minute. We know to-day unspeakably more about the origin of the Bible, how it grew, how it came into its present shape, than any man from the first century until a hundred years ago could by any possibility know. We know a good deal more than Paul, though he was one of the writers, unspeakably more. He had no means of knowing. We have sifted every particle of evidence, every source of knowledge that the world has to show. We know unspeakably more about this universe than any man of the olden time had any way of knowing. He had no way of knowing anything. I said something recently about the origin and nature of man. Very little was known about this until within the present century. We know something about how religions grow. We have traced them, studied them, not only Christianity and Judaism, but all the religions of the world back to their origin, and seen them coming into shape. We can judge something about them to-day. You want the antiquity of the world? People are bowing in the presence of what they suppose to be the antiquity, that is, the hoary-headed wisdom, of the world. Why, friends, as you go back, you are not going back to the old age of the world: you are going back to its childhood. The world was never so old as it is this morning. Humanity was never so old, never had such accumulated experience, such accumulated knowledge, as it has this morning. If you want the results of the world's hoary-headed antiquity, its wisdom, its accumulated experience, its knowledge, then get the very latest results of the very finest modern investigations; for that is where you will find them. Then let us note in just a word some other reasons why we cannot hold these old creeds. The statements that are made about God are horrible. The statements that are made in regard to the method by which God is going to deal with his creatures are horrible; and then what they tell us in regard to the outcome of human history is pessimistic and hopeless in the extreme. Where do they claim to get the authority for these old beliefs? They tell us they find them on the one hand in the Bible. What do you find in the Bible? You find almost anything you look for. Is it not perfectly natural you should? The Bible was written by ever so many different writers during a period covering nearly a thousand years. Would you expect to find the same ideas throughout it? The book of Ecclesiastes teaches that man dies like a dog. The Bible upholds polygamy, slavery, cruelty of almost every kind. You might prove almost any kind of immorality from the Bible if you wished to. But take the highest and noblest conception of the Bible you can have. I was talking with an eminent and widely known clergyman of the Presbyterian Church during the present year; and we were speaking about the Bible. I tell you this to show how modern ideas are permeating the thoughts of men. He said: I confess that, if God had ever given the world an infallible book, I should be utterly appalled and disheartened; because it is perfectly clear that we have no such book now. And, if God ever gave us such a book, then he has lost control of his universe, and was not able to keep us in possession of it. Here are Quakers and Methodists proving their beliefs, the Baptists proving theirs, the Episcopalians proving theirs, the Presbyterians theirs, all of them different in some particular, and each of them getting their proof from the Bible. Let us remember that the Bible is simply a great body of national literature, and that you can prove anything out of it. Then remember that it has been proved over and over again by the facts of the handwriting of God himself to be mistaken and wrong in any number of directions. God is writing his own book in the heavens, in the earth, in the human heart; and we are reading the story there. No creed, then, particularly if it be infamous and unjust and horrible, can prove itself to us so that we are bound to accept it to-day on the basis of an appeal to any book. But the Catholic Church claims not only that the book is infallible, but that their church tradition is infallible too. Is it? How can a church prove that its declarations are infallible? Is there any way of proving it? Think for a moment. It can make the claim: the only conceivable way of proving it is by never making a mistake. Try the Catholic Church by that test. It has committed itself over and over and over again to things which have been demonstrated beyond question to be mistakes. It has made grave mistakes, not only as to fact, but as to morals as well. On what, then, shall we base any one of these "infallible" creeds? There is no basis for any such claim; and thank God there is not. For now we are free to study, here, there, everywhere; to read God's word in the stars; to read it in the rocks; to read it in the remains of old-time civilizations; to read it in the development of education, the arts, science; to read it in the light of the love we have for each other, the love for our children, and the growing philanthropy and widening benevolence of mankind. We have thus perfect freedom to listen when God speaks, to see when he holds a leaf of his ever-growing book for our inspection, and to believe concerning him the grandest and noblest and finest things that the mind can dream or the heart can love. WHY HAVE UNITARIANS NO CREED? FOR a Scripture suggestion touching the principle involved in my subject, I refer you to the words found in the fifth chapter of the Gospel according to Matthew, the forty-third and the forty-fourth verses, "Ye have heard that it hath been said; but I say unto you." I take these phrases simply as containing the principle to which I wish to call your earnest attention at the outset. Jesus here recognizes the fact that the religious beliefs of one age are not necessarily adequate to a succeeding age. So he says over and over in this chapter, Ye have heard that it hath been said by the fathers, by the teachers, the religious leaders in old times, so and so: but I say unto you something else, something in advance, something beyond. If any one chooses to say that Jesus was infallible, inspired, and therefore had a right to modify the teachings of the fathers, still this does not change the principle at all. In any case he recognized the fact that the beliefs of the old time might not be sufficient to the new time. And, even if any one should take the position that Jesus was the second person in the Trinity, that he was the one who revealed the old-time truth, and also revealed the new, still the principle is not changed: it is conceded, whatever way we look at it. For, even if he were God, he is represented as giving the people in the time of Moses, the time of David, certain precepts, certain things to believe, certain things to do, and then, recognizing at a later time that they were not adequate, changing those precepts, and giving them something larger, broader, deeper, to accept and to practise. Because this principle is here involved, I have taken these words as my Scripture point of departure. Now to come to the question as to why Unitarians have no creed. Of course, the answer, though it sounds like an Hibernicism, is to say that they do have a creed. Not a creed in the sense in which some of the older churches use the word. If by creed you mean a written or published statement of belief, one that is supposed to be fixed and final, one that is a test of religious fellowship, which is placed at the door of the church so that no one not accepting it is able to enter, why, then, we have no creed. But, in the broader sense of the word, it means belief; and Unitarians believe quite as much, and, in my judgment, things far nobler and grander, than those which have been believed in the past. We are ready, if any one wishes it, to write out our creed. We are perfectly willing that it should be printed. We can put it into twelve clauses, like the Apostles' Creed; we can make thirty-nine clauses or articles, like the Creed of the Anglican Church; we can arrange it any way that is satisfactory to the questioner. Only we will not promise to believe all of it to-morrow; we will not say that we will never learn anything new; we will not make it a test of fellowship; we will admit not only to our meeting-house, but to our church organization, if they wish to come, people who do not believe all the articles of the creed that we shall write. Perhaps we will admit people who do not believe any of it; for our conception of a church is not the old conception. What was that? That it was a sort of ark in which the saved were taken, to be carried over the stormy sea of this life and into the haven of eternal felicity beyond. As opposed to that, our conception of the church is that it is a school, it is a place where souls are to be trained, to be educated; and so we would as soon refuse to admit an ignorant pupil to a school as to refuse to admit a person on account of his belief to our church. We welcome all who wish to come and learn; and if, after they have studied with us for a year, they do not then accept all the points which some of us believe, and hold to be very important, we do not turn them out even on that account. Unitarians, then, do have a creed, only it is not fixed, it is not final, and it is not the condition of religious fellowship. Now I wish to give you some of the reasons, as they lie in my mind, for the attitude which we hold in regard to this matter. I do not believe in having a fixed and final statement of belief which we are not at liberty to criticise or question or change. Why? Because I love the truth, because I am anxious to find the truth, because I wish to be perfectly free to seek for the truth. Our first reason, then, is for the sake of the truth. Now let me present this to you under three or four minor heads. The universe is infinite, God is infinite, truth is infinite. If, then, on the background of the infinite you draw a circle, no matter how large it may be, no matter how wide its diameter, do you not see that you necessarily shut out more than you shut in? Do you not see that you limit the range of thought, set bounds to investigation, and that you pledge yourselves beforehand that the larger part of truth, of God, of the universe, you will never study, you will never investigate? There is another point bearing on this matter. If a man pledges himself to accept and abide by a fixed and final creed, he does it either for a reason or without a reason. If he does it without a reason, then there is, of course, no reason why we should follow his example. If he has a reason, then two things: either that reason is adequate, sound, conclusive, or it is not. If it is not adequate, then we ought to study and criticise and find that out, and be free to discover some reason that is adequate. If the reason for his holding the creed is an adequate one, then, certainly, no harm can be done by investigation of it, by asking questions. If the men who hold these old creeds and defend them can give in the court of reason a perfectly good account of themselves, if they can bring satisfactory credentials, then all our questioning, all our criticism, all our investigation, cannot possibly do the creeds any harm. It will only mean that we shall end by being convinced ourselves, and shall accept the creeds freely and rationally. It has always seemed to me a very strange attitude of mind for a man to feel perfectly convinced that a certain position is sound and true, and to be angry when anybody asks a question about it. If there are good reasons for holding it, instead of calling names, why not show us the reasons? He who is afraid to have his opinions questioned, he who is angry when you ask him for evidence, to give a reason for the position that he holds, shows that he is not at all certain of it. He admits by implication that it is weak. He shows an attitude of infidelity instead of an attitude of faith, of trust. There is no position which I hold to-day that I consider so sacred that people are not at liberty to ask any questions about it they please; and, if they do not see a good reason for accepting it, I am certainly not going to be angry with them for declining to accept. The attitude of truth is that of welcome to all inquiry. It rejoices in daylight, it does not care to be protected from investigation. Then there is another reason still, another point to be made in regard to this matter. People are not very likely to find the truth if they are frightened, if they are warned off, if they are told that this or that or another thing is too sacred to be investigated. I have known people over and over again in my past experience who long wished they might be free to accept some grander, nobler, more helpful view of truth, and yet have been trained and taught so long that it was wicked to doubt, that it was wicked to ask questions, that they did not dare to open their minds freely to the incoming of any grander hope. If you tell people that they may study just as widely as they please, but, when they get through, they must come back and settle down within the limits of certain pre-determined opinions, what is the use of their wider excursion? And, if you tell them that, unless they accept these final conclusions, God is going to be angry with them, they are going to injure their own immortal souls, they are threatening the welfare of the people on every hand whom they influence, how can you expect them to study and come to conclusions which are entitled to the respect of thoughtful people? I venture the truth of the statement that, if you should inquire over this country to-day, you would find that the large majority of people who have been trained in the old faith are in an attitude of fear towards modern thought. Thousands of them would come to us to-day if they were not kept back by this inherited and ingrained fear as to the danger of asking questions. Do I not remember my own experience of three years' agonizing battle over the great problems that were involved in these questions, afraid that I was being tempted of the devil, afraid that I was risking the salvation of my soul, afraid that I might be endangering other people whom I might influence, never free to study the Bible, to study religious questions as I would study any other matter on the face of the earth on account of being haunted by this terrible dread? And, then, there is one other point. I must touch on these very briefly. The acceptance of these creeds on the part of those who do hold to them does not, after all, prevent the growth of modern thought. It does hinder it, so far as they are concerned; but the point I wish to make is this, that these creeds do not answer the purpose for which they were constructed. They are supposed to be fixed and final statements of divine truth, which are not to be questioned and not to be changed. Dr. Richard S. Storrs, of Brooklyn, the famous Congregational minister, said a few years ago that the idea of progress in theology was absurd, because the truth had once for all been given to the saints in the past, and there was no possibility of progress, because progress implied change. And yet, in spite of the effort that has been made to keep the faith of the world as it was in the past, the change is coming, the change does come every day; and it puts the people who are trying to prevent the change coming in an attitude of what shall I say I do not wish to make a charge against my brethren, it puts them in a very curious attitude indeed towards the truth. They must not accept a new idea if it conflicts with the old creed, however much they may be convinced it is true. If they do accept it, then what? They must either leave the Church or they must keep still about it, and remain in an attitude of appearing to believe what they really do not believe. Or else they must do violence to the creed, reinterpreting it in such a way as to make it to them what the framers of it had never dreamed of. Do you not see the danger that there is here of a person's disingenuous attitude towards the truth, danger to the moral fibre, danger to the progress of man? Take as a hint of it the way the Bible has been treated. People have said that the Bible was absolutely infallible: they have taken that as a foregone conclusion; and then, when they found out beyond question that the world was not created in six days, what have they done? Frankly accepted the truth? No, they have tried to twist the Bible into meaning something different from what it plainly says. It expressly says days, bounded by morning and evening; but no, it must mean long periods of time. Why? Because science and the Bible must somehow be reconciled, no matter if the Bible is wrenched and twisted from its real meaning. And so with regard to the creeds. The creeds say that Christ descended into hell; that is, the underworld. People come to know that there is no underworld; and, instead of frankly admitting that that statement in the creed is not correct, they must torture it out of its meaning, and make it stand for something that the framers of it had never heard of. I think it would greatly astonish the writers of the Bible and the Church Fathers if they could wake up to-day, and find out that they meant something when they wrote those things which had never occurred to them at the time. Is this quite honest? Is it wise for us to put ourselves in this attitude? I wish to speak a little further in this matter as to not preventing the coming in of modern thought, and to take one illustration. Look at Andover Seminary to-day. The Andover Creed was arranged for the express purpose of keeping fixed and unchangeable the belief of the Church.. Its founders declared that to be their purpose. They were going to establish the statement of belief, so that it should not be open to this modern criticism, which had resulted in the birth of Unitarianism in New England; and, in order to make perfectly certain of it, they said that the professors who came there to teach the creed must not only be sound when they were settled, but they must be re-examined every five years. This was to prevent their changing their minds during the five years and remaining on there, teaching some false doctrine while the overseers and managers were not aware of it. So every five years the professors and teachers of Andover have to reaffirm solemnly their belief in the old creed. It is not for me to make charges against them; but it is for me to make the statement that so suspicious have the overseers and managers come to be of some of the professors in the seminary that they have been tried more than once for heresy; and everybody knows that the leading professors there to-day do not believe the creed in the sense in which it was framed. And, to illustrate how this is looked upon by some of the students, let me tell you this. My brother was a graduate of Andover; and not long ago he said to me that when the time came around for the professors to reaffirm their allegiance to the creed, one of the other students came into his room one day, and said, "Savage, let's go up and see the professors perjure themselves." This was the attitude of mind of one of the students. This is the way he looked at it. I am not responsible for his opinion; but is it quite wise, is it best for the truth, is it for the interests of religion, to have theological students in this state of mind towards their professor? Modern thought does come into the minds of men: they cannot escape it. What does it mean? It means simply a new, higher, grander revelation of God. Is it wise for us to put ourselves into such a position that it shall seem criminal and evil for us to accept it? If we pledge ourselves not to learn the things we can know, then we stunt ourselves intellectually. If, after we have pledged ourselves, we accept these things and remain as we are, I leave somebody else to characterize such action, action which, in my judgment, and so far as my observation goes, is not at all uncommon. We then propose to hold ourselves free so far as a fixed and final creed is concerned, because we wish to be able to study, to find and accept the truth. There is another reason. For the sake of God, because we wish to find and come into sympathy with him, and love him and serve him, we refuse to be bound by the thoughts of the past. What do we mean by coming into a knowledge of God? Let me illustrate a moment by the relation which we may sustain to another man. You do not necessarily come close to a man because you touch his elbow on the street. The people who lived in Shakspere's London might not have been so near to Shakspere as is Mr. Furness, the great Shakspere critic to- day, or Mr. Rolfe, of Cambridge. Physical proximity does not bring us close to a person. We may be near to a friend who is half-way round the world: there may be sympathetic heart-beats that shall make us conscious of his presence night and day. We may be close alongside of a person, but alienated from him, misunderstanding him, and really farther away from him than the diameter of the solar system. If, then, we wish to get near to God, and to know him, we must become like him. There must be love, tenderness, unselfishness. We must have the divine characteristics and qualities; and then we shall feel his presence, know and be near him. People may find God, and still have very wrong theories about him; just as a farmer may raise a good crop without understanding much about theories of sunshine or of soil. But the man who does understand about them will be more likely to raise a good crop, because he goes about it intelligently; while the other simply blunders into it. So, if we have right thoughts about God, it is easier for us to get into sympathy with him. If we think about him as noble and sweet and grand and true and loving, we shall be more likely to respond to these qualities that call out the best and the finest feelings in ourselves. I do not say that it is absolutely necessary to have correct theories of God. There have been good men in all ages, there have been noble women in all ages, in all religions, in all the different sects of Christendom. There are lovely characters among the agnostics. I have known sweet and true and fine people who thought themselves atheists. A man may be grand in spite of his theological opinions one way or the other. He may have a horrible picture of God set forth in his creed, and carry a loving and tender one in his heart. So he may be better than the God of his creed. All this is true; but, if we have, I say, right thoughts about him, high and fine ideals, we are more likely to come into close touch and sympathy with him. And, then, and here is a point I wish to emphasize and make perfectly clear, this arbitrary assumption of infallibility cultivates qualities and characteristics which are un and anti-divine. Let us see what Jesus had to say about this. The people of his time who represented more than any others this infallibility idea were the Pharisees. They felt perfectly sure that they were right. They felt perfectly certain that they were the chosen favorites of God. There was on their part, then, growing out of this conception of the infallibility of their position, the conceit of being the chosen and special favorites of the Almighty. They looked with contempt, not only upon the Gentiles, who were outside of the peculiarly chosen people, but upon the publicans, upon all of their own nation who were not Pharisees, and who were not scrupulously exact concerning the things which they held to be so important. What did Jesus think and say about them? You remember the parable of the Pharisee and the publican. Jesus said that this poor sinning publican, who smote upon his breast, and said, "God be merciful to me a sinner," was the one that God looked upon with favor, not the Pharisee, who thanked God that he was not as the other people were. And, if there is any class in the New Testament that Jesus scathes and withers with the hot lightning of his scorn and his wrath, it is these infallible people, who are perfectly right in their ideas, and who look with contempt upon people who are outside of the pale of their own inherited infallible creeds and opinions. We believe, then, that the people who are free to study the splendors of God in the universe, in human history, in human life, and free to accept all new and higher and finer ideas, are more likely to find God, and come into sympathetic and tender relations with him, than those who are bound to opinions by the supposed fixed and revealed truths of the past. We reject, then, these old-time creeds for another reason, for the sake of man. A long vista of thought and illustration stretches out before me as I pronounce these words; but I can only touch upon a point here or there. One of the most disastrous things that have happened in the history of the past and it has happened over and over again is this blocking and hindering of human advance, until by and by the tide, the growing current, becomes too strong to be held back any more; and it has swept away all barriers and devastated society, politically, socially, religiously, morally, and in every other way. And why? Simply because the natural flow of human thought, the natural growth of human opinion, has been hindered artificially by the assumption of an infallibility on the part of those who have tried to keep the world from growth. Suppose you teach men that certain theological opinions are identical with religion, until they believe it. The time comes when they cannot hold those opinions any more, and they break away; and they give up religion, and perhaps the sanctities of life, which they are accustomed to associate with religion. Take the time of the French Revolution. People went mad. They were opposed not only to the State: they were opposed to the Church. They tried to abolish God, they tried to abolish the Ten Commandments; they tried to abolish everything that had been so long established and associated with the old regime. Were the people really enemies of God? Were they enemies of religion? Were they enemies of truth? No: it was a caricature of God that they were fighting, it was a caricature of religion that they were opposed to. When Voltaire declared that the Church was infamous, it was not religion that he wished to overthrow: it was this tyranny that had been associated with the dominance of the Church for so many ages. This is the result in one direction of attempting to hold back the natural growth and progress of the world. If you read the history of the Church for the last fifteen hundred years until within a century or two, and by the Church I mean that organization that has claimed to speak infallibly for God, you will find that it has been associated with almost everything that has hindered the growth of the world. I cannot go into details to illustrate it. It has interfered with the world's education. There is only one nation in Europe to-day where education has not been wrenched out of the hands of the priesthood in the interests of man, and that even by Catholics themselves; and that country is Spain. It pronounced its ban on the study of the universe under the name of science. It made it a sin for Galileo to discover the moons of Jupiter. And Catholic and Protestant infallibility alike denounced Newton, one of the noblest men and the grandest scientists that the world has ever seen, because in proclaiming the law of gravity, they said, he was taking the universe out of the hands of God and establishing practical atheism. So almost everything that has made the education, the political, the industrial, the social growth of the world, this infallibility idea has stood square in the way of, and done its best to hinder. Take, for example, an illustration. When chloroform was discovered, the Church in Scotland opposed its use in cases of childbirth, because it said it was a wicked interference with the judgment God pronounced on Eve after the fall. So, in almost every direction, whatever has been for the benefit of the world has been opposed in the interests of old-time ideas, until the whole thing culminated at last in this: Here is this nineteenth century of ours, which has done more for the advancement of man than the preceding fifteen centuries all put together. Political liberty, religious liberty, universal education, the enfranchisement and elevation of women, the abolition of slavery, temperance, almost everything has been achieved, until the world, the face of it, has been transformed. And yet Pope Pius IX., in an encyclical which he issued a little while before his death, pronounced, ex-cathedra and infallibly, the opinion that this whole modern society was godless. And yet, as I said, this godless modern world has done more for man and for the glory of God than the fifteen hundred years of church dominance that preceded it. For the sake of man, then, that intellectually, politically, socially, industrially, every other way, he may be free to grow, to expand, to adopt all the new ideas that promise higher help, hope, and freedom, for the sake of man, we refuse to be bound by the inherited and fixed opinions of the past. Now two or three points I wish to speak of briefly, as I near the close. We are charged sometimes, because we have no creed, with having no bond of union whatever. As I said a few Sundays ago, they say that we are all at loose ends because we are not fixed and bound by a definite creed. What is God's method of keeping a system like this solar one of ours together? Does he fence it in? Does he exert any pressure from outside? Or does he rather place at the centre a luminous and attractive body, capable of holding all the swinging and singing members of the system in their orbits, as they play around this great source of life and of light? God's method is the method of illumination and attraction. That is the method which we have adopted. Instead of fencing men in and telling them to climb over that fence at their peril, we have placed a great, luminous, attractive truth at the centre, the pursuit of truth, the love of truth, the search for God, the desire to benefit and help on mankind. And we trust to the power of these great central truths to attract and keep in their orbits all the free activities of the thousands of minds and hearts that make up our organization. Then there is one more point. Suppose we wanted an infallible creed; suppose it was ever so important; suppose the experience of the world had proved that it was very desirable indeed that we should have one. What are we going to do about it? I suppose that men in other departments of life than the ecclesiastical would like an infallible guide. Men engaged in business would like an infallible handbook that would point them the way to success. The gold hunters would like an infallible guide to the richest ores. Navigators on the sea would like infallible methods of manning and sailing their ships. The farmer would like to know that he was following an infallible method to success. It would be very desirable in many respects; it would save us no end of trouble. But it is admitted that in these other departments of life, whether we want infallible guides or not, we do not have them. And I think, if you will look at the matter a little deeply and carefully, you will become persuaded that it would not be the best for us if we could. Men not only wish to gain certain ends, but, if they are wise, they wish more than that, to cultivate and develop and unfold themselves, which they can only do by study, by mistakes, by correcting mistakes, by finding out through experience what is true and what is false. In this process of study and experience they find themselves, something infinitely more important than any external fact or success which they may discover or achieve. So I believe that a similar thing is true in the religious life. It might be a great saving of trouble if we were sure we had an infallible guide. I am inclined to think that a great many persons who go into the Roman Catholic Church, in this modern time, go there because they are tired of thinking, and wish to shift the responsibility of it on to some one else. It is tiresome, it is hard work. Sometimes we would like to escape it: we would like infallible guides. But I have studied the world with all the care that I could; and I have never been able to find the materials out of which I could construct an infallible guide, if I wanted it ever so much. Whether it is important or not to have infallible teaching in the theological realm, there is no such thing as infallibility that is accessible to us; and I, for one, do not believe that it would be best for us if there were. God is treating us more wisely and kindly than, if we were able, we would treat ourselves; because it is not the discovery of this or that particular fact or truth that is so important as is the development of our own intellectual and moral and spiritual natures in the search for truth. Lessing said a very wise thing when he declared that, if God should offer him the perfect truth in one hand and the privilege of seeking for it in the other, he should accept the privilege of search as the nobler and more valuable gift, because, in this seeking, we develop ourselves, we cultivate the Divine, and work our natures over into the likeness of God. And now at the end I wish simply to say that God has given us the better thing in letting us freely and earnestly and simply investigate and look after the truth, cultivating ourselves in the process, and being wrought over ever more and more into the likeness of the divine. And I wish also to say, for the comfort of those who may think that this lack of infallible guides is a serious matter, it may astonish you to have me say it, that there is not a single matter of any practical importance in our moral and religious life concerning which there is any doubt whatsoever. If anybody tells you that he is not living a religious life or not living a moral life, for the lack of light and guidance, do not believe him. What are the things that are in question? What are the things of which we are sure? Take, for example, the matter of Biblical criticism, as to who wrote the book of Chronicles, as to whether Deuteronomy was written by Moses or compiled in the time of King Josiah. Are there any great spiritual problems waiting for those questions to be settled? Do you need to have that matter made clear before you know whether you ought to be an honest man in your business, whether you ought to judge charitably of a friend who has gone astray, whether you ought to be helpful towards your neighbors, whether you ought to be kind to your wife, and whether you ought to lovingly train and cultivate your children? Take another of the great questions, as to the authorship of the Gospel of John. I shall be immensely interested in the settlement of that if the time ever comes when it is settled; but it would be a purely critical interest that I should have. I am not going to wait until that is settled before I lead a religious life. I am not going to let that stand in the way of my helping on the progress of the world. I tell you, friends, that these matters that are in doubt, that need an infallibility to settle them, are not the practical matters at all. We look off into the vast universe around us, and question about God. Is he personal? Can we have the old ideas about him? One thing is settled: we know we are the product of and in the presence of an Eternal Order, and that knowing and keeping the laws of the universe mean life and happiness, but the opposite means death. That is the practical part of it. We know that the Power that is in this universe is making gradually through the ages for righteousness; and we know that the righteous and helpful life is the only manly life for us to lead, for our own sake, for the sake of those we can touch and influence. Are we going to wait for criticism to settle metaphysical problems before we do anything about these great practical matters? Whatever your theory about Jesus may be, you can at least be like him, and wait; and, when you see him, you will love him, and know the truth about him, if you cannot before. Matthew Arnold, an agnostic, has put into two or three lines, which I wish to read now at the end, what might well be the creed of the person who doubts so much that he thinks nothing is settled. If you cannot say any more than this, here is all that is absolutely necessary to the very noblest life: "Hath man no second life? Pitch this one high. Sits there no Judge in heaven our sin to see? More strictly, then, the inward judge obey. Was Christ a man like us? Ah I let us try If we, then, too, can be such men as he." THE REAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE PRESENT RELIGIOUS DISCUSSION. SCIENCE tells us that the law of growth is embodied in the phrase, "the struggle for life and the survival of the fittest." As we look beneath the surface in any department of human endeavor, analyze things a little carefully, we discover that this contest is going on. We know that it is not confined to the lower forms of life or the order of the inanimate world. It is a universal law. We are not always conscious of it; but, when we do think and study, we discover it as an unescapable fact. In the religious world, for example, between the different thoughts and theories which are held among men as solutions of the problems of life we find this contest going on. Here, again, it is not always noticed; but in the mind of any man who thinks, who reads, who reflects, this process is apparent. This view is considered, another view mentioned by somebody else is set over against it, and the claims of the two theories are brought up for judgment. And so there goes on perpetually this debate. Now and again it comes to the surface, and attracts popular attention. We have been in the midst of an experience of this kind for the last two or three weeks here in New York City. But the thing I want you to note is -- and that is the great lesson I have in mind this morning that all of this superficial discussion of one point or another is only an indication of a larger, deeper contest. When, for example, men are debating as to the infallibility or inerrancy of the Old Testament, as to the story of the creation as told in Genesis, as to the nature and work of Jesus, as to the future destiny of the race, when they are discussing any one of these particular problems, they are dealing with matters that are really superficial. Underneath these there is a larger problem; and to this problem and its probable issues I wish to call your attention this morning. There are two great world theories, complete each in itself, both of them thinkable, mutually exclusive, one of which only can be true, and one of which must finally become dominant in the educated and free thought of the world. These two theories I wish to place face to face before you this morning, call your attention to some of their special features and note the claims they have on our acceptance. Before doing this, however, I wish you to note that there are indications of a dual tendency on the part of the human mind which has not been manifested in the development of these two theories alone, but which has had illustrations in other directions and in other times. In the early traditions of Greece and Rome you find two tendencies on the part of the mind of man. There was, first, an old-time tradition which placed the Golden Age of humanity away back in the past. The people dreamed of a time when Saturn, the father of gods and men, lived on the earth, and governed directly his children and his people. In that happy time there was no disease, no pain, no poverty. There were no class distinctions. There were no wars. The evil of the world was unknown. That was the Golden Age which a certain set of thinkers then placed far back in the past. They told how that age was succeeded by a bronze age, a poorer condition of affairs, how the gods left the earth, and ill contentions and evils of every kind began to afflict the world. This was succeeded by the age of brass, that by the age of iron; and so the poor old world was supposed to be getting worse and worse, lower and lower, from one epoch of time to another. But also among these same people there were another set of traditions, illustrated sufficiently for our purpose by the story of Prometheus. According to this the first age of humanity was its worst and poorest and lowest age. The people lived in abject poverty and misery. They were even neglected on the part of the gods, who did not seem to care for them, but treated them with contempt. Prometheus is represented as pitying their evil estate, caring more for them than the gods did; and so he steals the celestial fire, and comes down to the world and presents it to men, and so helps them to begin civilization, a period of prosperity and progress. For this he is punished by the gods. The point I wish you to note is that even among the Greeks and the Romans there were two types of mind, one of which placed the Golden Age in the past, and the other of which placed it in the future as the goal of man's endeavor and growth. A precisely similar thing we find in the Old Testament, so that these two types of mind appear among the Hebrews. In one of these we find again the Golden Age, the perfect condition of things, placed at the beginning. There was a garden, and man and woman were perfect in it. There was no labor, no toil, no pain, no sorrow, no fear, no trouble of any kind. But that was followed by sin, evil, entering the world, by their being driven out; and so the world has again been going from bad to worse, as the ages have passed by. On the other hand, among the Hebrews, as illustrated in the writings of the great prophets, the master minds of the Hebrew race, there is the opposite belief manifested. There is no fall of man, no perfect condition of things, no Golden Age at the beginning, in the prophets. There is none in the teaching of Jesus. Rather do they look forward with kindling eye and beating heart to some grander thing that is to be. Here is this dual tradition, then, in the world, in different parts of the world, this dual way of looking at the problem of life. Now I wish to place before you the two great contrasted theories of the universe. In presenting that which has been dominant for the last two or three thousand years, two thousand, perhaps, speaking roughly, I am quite well aware that I shall have to seem to tell you what you perfectly well know, what I have said on other occasions; but it is necessary for me to run over it, and I will do so as briefly as I can, setting it before you in outline as a whole, so that you may see it in contrast with the other theory which I shall then endeavor to set forth also as a whole. According to that theory of the world, then, which lies at the foundation, the old-time and still generally accepted theory of Christendom, the world was created in the year 4004 B.C. It was created in a week's time. This was the general teaching until thinkers were compelled to accept another theory by the advances of modern investigation. The world was created inside of a week. God got through, pronounced it good, and rested. Then in a short period of time we do not know how long evil entered this world which God had pronounced perfect. Satan, a real being, the leader of the hosts of the fallen angels, the traditional enemy of God, who had fought him even in his own heaven and been cast out, invades this fair earth. He seduces our first parents, gets them to commit a sin against God which makes them his enemies, turns them into rebels against his just and holy government. The world, then, is fallen. Now from that day to this the one effort on the part of God, according to this theory, has been to deliver the world from this lost condition. Jonathan Edwards, for example, published a book called "The History of Redemption." He conceived the entire history of the world under that title, because the history of the world, according to this theory, has been the history of the effort of God to deliver man from the effects of the fall. Now let us note the story as it proceeds a little further. The world exists for I think I have a date here which may interest you 1,656 years, God meantime doing everything he could, by sending angels and special messengers and teaching the people; and he had accomplished so little that the world was in such a condition that he was compelled to drown it. So came the flood. After that, he chooses one family, one little family and the descendants of that family, one little people, and bends all his energies to the education and training of that people,-- a small people inhabiting a country on the eastern coast of the Mediterranean Sea just about as large as the State of Massachusetts. For more than two thousand years he devotes himself to the training of this people. How does he succeed here? He sends his messengers again, his angels, his prophets, one after another. He inspires a certain number of men to write a book to deliver his will to the people, fallen into such condition that they are incapable of discovering the truth for themselves. But, after all his efforts, they are so far from the truth that, when the second person of the Trinity appears, they have nothing to do with him except to put him to death. After that, God sends the third person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit, to organize his Church, spread his truth, convert men, bring them into the Church, and so fit them to be saved. And, after two thousand years of that kind of effort, what is the result? They tell us that not more than a third part of the inhabitants of the world have heard anything about it, that the majority of those who have heard about it reject it. Mr. Moody told us last year that in this country, which we love to think of as the most favored and highly civilized and intelligent country in the world, out of seventy millions of inhabitants, not more than thirty millions ever see the inside of any kind of church. I do not vouch for the accuracy of the statistics. I wish to impress upon you the result of this theory of this six thousand years of endeavor on the part of God to bring his own children to a knowledge of his own truth. The upshot of it is that the few, the minority, will be saved, and the great majority eternally lost. Now here is one world theory, one scheme of world history which I wish you to hold clearly and as definitely as possible in your minds, while I place alongside of it another theory. According to this other, God did not suddenly create the world in a week or in a hundred thousand years. It is a story of continuous and eternal creation. As Jesus said, with fine and noble insight, "My father worketh hitherto." He did not recognize that God was resting on any day or through any period of time. The world, then, has always been in process of creation. The same forces at work in accordance with substantially the same laws. The world has been millions of years in this process; and the process all around us, if we choose to open our eyes and note it, is still going on with all its wonder and divinity. And we know, as we study the heavens above us, or around us rather, with our telescopes, that there are worlds and systems of worlds in process of creation on every hand. We are permitted to look into the divine workshop and observe the divine method. The world, then, is always in process of creation. This is the first point in the new theory. It follows, of course, from this that we are to hold the story of the antiquity of the earth, the earth millions of years old, instead of six thousand or ten thousand. And then, in the third place, it tells us the story of the antiquity of the human race. All scholars, for example, as bearing on this I will give you just this one illustration, know that there was a civilization in Egypt, wide- spread, highly developed, with nobody knows how many ages of growth behind it, there was this civilization in Egypt before the world was created according to the popular chronology that has been generally received until within a few years. We know that man has been on the earth hundreds of thousands of years. This is the next point in that story. In the next place, they tell us a wondrous tale of the origin and nature of man, tracing his natural development from lower forms of life. When I say "natural," I do not wish you to think for one moment that I leave out the divinity; for, according to this story of the world which I am hinting and outlining now, God is infinitely nearer, more wonderfully in contact with us, than he ever was in the old. Natural, then, but divine at every step, so that we are seeing God face to face, if we but think of it, and are feeling his touch every moment of our lives. No fall of man, then, on this theory. No invasion of this world by any form of evil or any evil person from without. This story of the fall of man came into the world undoubtedly to account in some philosophical fashion for the existence of pain, of evil, and of death. We account for it on this new theory much more naturally, rationally, more honorably for God, more hopefully for man. The history of the world, then, since man began has not been by any means a history of universal progression. Evolution, however much it may be misunderstood and misrepresented, does not mean the necessity of progress on the part of any one person or any one people, any more, for example, than the growth of the human body is inconsistent with the fact that cells and composite parts of the body are in process of decay and dissolution every hour, every moment of our lives. Nations grow, advance, if they comply with the laws, the conditions, of growth and advance; and, if not, they die out and disappear. And so is it of individuals. But, on the other hand, in the presence of the loving, lifting, leading God, humanity in the larger sense has been advancing from the beginning of human history until to-day; and the grade, dim glimpses of which we gain as we look out toward the future, is still up and still on. According to this theory of the universe, there does not need to be any stupendous breaking in of God into his own world after any miraculous fashion. We do not need an infallible guide in religion any more than anywhere else, unless we are in danger of eternal loss because of an intellectual mistake. We do not need any stupendous miracle to reconcile God to his own world; for he has always been reconciled. We do not need any miraculous bridging of any mythical gulf; for there never has been any gulf. And the outcome, not as we look forward are we haunted by fearful anticipations of darkness and evil; as we listen, we do not ever hear the clanking of chains; as we look, we know that the dimness that hangs over the coming time is not caused by "the smoke of the torment that ascendeth up forever and ever." It is a story of eternal hope for every race, for every child of man and child of God. Here are these two theories, then, two schemes of the universe and of human history. Which of them shall we accept? I wish you to note now, and to note with a little care, that you cannot rationally accept a part of one theory and a part of the other, and so make up a patchwork to suit yourselves. Take, for example, the one question, Is man lost or is he not? He is not half lost or sort of lost: he is either lost or he is not lost. Which is true? If he is not "lost," then he does not need to be "saved." He may need something else; but he does not need that, for the two correspond and match each other. Let us think, then, a little clearly in regard to this matter, and remember that the outcome of the conflict between these two theories must be the supremacy of either one or the other. Now, before I come to any more fundamental and earnest treatment of the subject, let me call your attention to certain things that are happening to the old theory. How much of that old theory is intact to-day? How much of it is held even by those who, being scholars and thinkers, still hold their allegiance to the old-time theology? Let us see. The story of the sudden and finite creation of the world is completely gone. Nobody holds that now who gives it any attention. They have stretched the six days of the week, even those who hold the accuracy of the Genesis account, into uncounted periods of time. So that is gone. The antiquity of man is conceded by everybody who has a right to have and express an opinion; that is, by everybody who has given it any study. Every competent and free scholar knows to-day that the story of the fall of man and the whole Eden story, is a Babylonian or a Persian legend that came into the life of the Jews about the time of their captivity, and was not known of till then among them, and did not take hold on the leading and highest minds of their own people. And there are, as you know, hundreds, if not thousands of clergymen in all the churches to- day who are ready to concede that the story of Eden is poetry or legend or tradition: they no longer treat it as serious history. And yet, as I have said a good many times, they go on as though nothing had happened, although the foundation of their house has been removed. Only theories which stand in the air can thus defy the law of gravitation. Nobody to-day who has a right to have an opinion believes that God ever drowned the world. That is gone. As to the question as to whether we have an infallible book to guide us in religious matters, there are very few scholars in any church to-day, so far as my investigations have led, who hold any such opinion. That is gone; and the Bible, the Old Testament, at any rate is coming to be recognized, not as infallible revelation, but as ancient literature, immensely interesting, full of instruction, but not as an unquestioned guide in any department of life. There are many among the nominally old churches who are coming to hold a very different theory concerning Jesus, his life, his death, and the effect of his death on the salvation of man. More reasonable ideas are prevailing here. In every direction also there are thousands on thousands who are becoming freed from that horrible incubus of fear as they look out towards the future. As you note then, point after point of this old scheme of the universe is disappearing, being superseded by something else; until I am astonished, as I converse with friends in the other churches, to find how little of it is really left, how little of it men are ready, out and out, to defend. In conversation with an Episcopal clergyman a short time ago on theological questions, we agreed so well that I laughingly said I saw no reason why I should not become a clergyman in the Episcopal Church. Now, friends, what I wish you to note is this: that there is not one single point in this old scheme of the universe that can be reasonably defended to-day. It is passing away from intelligent, cultivated human thought. And note another thing: it is a scheme which is a discredit to the thought of God. It is unjust. It is dishonorable in its moral and religious implications. It is pessimistic and hopeless in its outlook for the race. It does not explain the problems of human nature and human experience half as well as the other theory does, even if it could be demonstrated as truth. Now let us look at the other. The other theory is magnificent in its proportions. It is grand in its conception and in its age-long sweep and range. It is worthy of the grandest thought of God we can frame; and we cannot imagine any increase or heightening or deepening of that thought which would reach beyond the limits of this conception of the universe, magnificent in its thought of God. And, instead of being pessimistic and hopeless in its outlook for man, it is full of hope, of life, of inspiration, of cheer, something for which we well may break out into songs of gladness as we contemplate. And, then, it is true. There is not one single feature of it, or point in it, that has not in the main been scientifically demonstrated to be God's truth. I make this statement, and challenge the contradiction of the world. Whatever breaks there may be in the evidence for this second theory that I have outlined, every single scrap and particle of evidence that there is in the universe is in its favor; and there is not one single scrap or particle of evidence in favor of the other. As I say, I challenge the contradiction of the scholarly world to that statement. It is true then. Being true, it is God's truth, God's theory of things, the outline of human history as God has laid it down for us; and, as we trace it, like Kepler, we may say, "O God, I think over again thy thoughts after Thee." Now I wish you to note one or two things concerning this a little further. There are a great may persons who shrink from accepting new ideas because they are haunted with the fear that in some way something precious, something sweet, something noble, something inspiring that they have associated with the past, is going to be lost. But think, friends. When the Ptolemaic theory of the universe gave way to the Copernican, not only did the Copernican have the advantage of being true, but not one single star in heaven was put out or even dimmed its light. All of them looked down upon us with an added magnificence and a fresher glow, because we felt at last we were standing face to face with the truth of things, and not with a fallible theory of man. Do not be afraid, then, that any of the sanctities, any of the devoutness, any of the tenderness, any of the sweet sentiments, any of the loves, any of the charities, any of the worships of the past, are in danger of being lost. Why, these, friends, are the summed-up result of all the world's finest and sweetest achievement up to this hour; and our theories are only vessels in which we carry the precious treasure. I am interested in having you see the truth of this universe, because I believe you will worship God more devoutly and love man more truly and consecrate yourselves more unreservedly to the highest and noblest ends, when you can think thoughts of God that kindle aspiration and worship, and thoughts of men as children of God that make it grandly worth your while to live and die for them. Do you think there is going to be a poorer religion than there has been in the past? I look to the time when we shall have a church as wide as the horizon, domed by the blue, lighted by the sun, the Sun of Righteousness, the Eternal Truth of the Father; a church in which all men shall be recognized as brothers, of whatever sect or whatever religion, in which all shall kneel and chant or lisp their worship according as they are able, the worship of the one Father, cheered and inspired by the one universal and eternal hope for man. Do not be afraid of the truth, then, for fear something precious is going to be lost out of human life. Evolution never gives up anything of the past that is worth keeping. It simply carries it on, and moulds it into ever higher and finer shapes for the service of man. I intimated a moment ago? I wish to touch on this briefly for the sake of clearness that man, according to this new theory, does not need to be saved, in the theological sense, of course, I mean, because he is not lost. He has never been far away from the Father, never been beyond the reach of his hand, never been beyond the touch of his love and care. What does he need? He needs to be trained, he needs to be educated, he needs to be developed for man is just as naturally religious as he is musical or artistic, as he is interested in problems of government or economics, or any of the great problems that touch the welfare of the world. Man needs churches, then, or societies of those interested in the higher life of the time, needs services, needs all these things that kindle and train and develop and lift him up out of the animal into the spiritual and divine nature which is in every one of us. So that none of the worships, none of the religious forms of the world that are of any value, are ever going to be cast aside or left behind. But there is one very important point that I must deal with for just a little while. I will be as brief as I can. I have been very much surprised to note certain things that have come out in the recent religious discussions. The editor of the Brooklyn Eagle, for example, has deprecated all talk in regard to matters of this sort, saying, in effect: What difference does it make? What is involved that is of any importance? Why not let everybody worship and believe as he pleases? A writer in the New York Times? I think perhaps more than one, but one specially I have in mind has said substantially the same thing. It does not make any difference. Let people worship as they please, let them believe as they please, let them go their own way. What difference does it make? Friends, it makes no difference at all, provided there is no such thing in the world as religious truth. If there is, it makes all difference. Let us take this "Don't care" and "No matter" theory for a moment, and in the light of it consider a few of the grandest lives of the world. If it makes no difference what a man believes in religion or how he worships or what he tries to do, how does it happen that we Unitarians, for example, glorify Theodore Parker, and count him a great moral and intellectual hero? Why should he have made himself so unpopular as to be cast out even of the Unitarian fellowship? Was he contending for nothing? Was he a fool? was he making himself uncomfortable over imaginary distinctions? Perhaps; but, then, why are we foolish enough to honor him? Why is it that we glorify Channing, who at an earlier period was cast out of the best religious society of the world for what he believed to be a great principle? Why is it to-day that we lift John Wesley on such a lofty pedestal of admiration? He left the Church of England, or was cast out of it, went among the poor, preached a great religious reform, led a magnificent crusade, teaching a higher and grander spiritual religion, a religion of heart, of life, of character, against the mere formalism of the Church of his time. Was he contending about airy nothings without local habitation or a name? If so, why are we so foolish as to admire him? Go back further to Martin Luther, putting himself in danger of his life, standing against banded Europe, and saying, "Here I stand: God help me, I can do no otherwise!" What is the use? What did he do it for? If it made no difference whether a man worshipped God intelligently or according to the things Luther thought all wrong, what was the difference? What was he contending about, and why does the world bow down to him with reverence and honor? Why are we fools enough to honor the men who were burned at Oxford? Why do we honor to-day the line of saints and martyrs? Why do we look upon Savonarola with such admiration? To go back still farther, why was it that the early Christians were ready to suffer torture, to be racked, to be persecuted, to be thrown into kettles of boiling oil, to be cast to the wild beasts in the arena? Were they contending for nothing at all? If it makes no difference, why were they casting themselves away in this Quixotic and foolish fashion and, if there was nothing involved, how is it that these names shine as stars in the religious firmament of the world's worship? Go to the time of Jesus himself. A young Nazarene, he leaves his home in Nazareth, joins the fortunes of John the Baptist. After John the Baptist had been fool enough to get his head cut off contending for his theory, Jesus takes up his work, dares to speak against the temple, dares to challenge the righteousness of the most righteous men of their time, dares at last to stand so firmly that he is taken out one afternoon and hung upon a tree on the hill beyond the walls of the city, the one supreme piece of folly in the history of the world from the "Does not make any difference" point of view. Is there any truth involved? Does it touch the living or the welfare of the world? If not, why, then, are these looked upon as the grandest figures since the world began? Are all men fools for admiring them, except these wiseacres who stand for the theory that it makes no difference and who ought not to admire them at all? Suppose you apply the principle in other departments of life. We had a tremendous issue in this city and country last fall over the financial question. Would it have made any difference which side won? If it was just as well one way as the other, why not let the people who clamored for silver have silver, those who wanted greenbacks have greenbacks, and those who desired gold have gold? What was the use of troubling about it? We thought there were principles involved. Take it in the economic world, the individualist here with his theory, the socialist here with his; theories outlined like those in Edward Bellamy's "Looking Backward"; a hundred advancers of these different schemes, each contending for mastery. And we feel that the welfare of civilization is at stake; and we stand for our great principles. Take it in politics. What difference does it make whether the theories embodied in the reign of the Czar of Russia prevail, or these here in the United States which we are so foolish as to laud and pride ourselves so much about? What did we have a Civil War for, wasting billions of money and hundreds of thousands of lives? Are these great human contests about nothing at all? Friends, think one moment. Either man is a child of God or he is not. Man fell at the beginning of his history, and came under the wrath and curse of God, or he did not. God has sent angels, breaking into his natural order of the world, or he has not. He has created an infallible book or he has not. He has organized an infallible church that has authority to guide and teach the world or he has not. He himself came down to earth in the form of a man once and for all, and was crucified, dead and buried and ascended into heaven, or he did not. These are questions of historic fact. Does it make no difference what we believe about them? If man is a fallen being, condemned to eternal death, and God has provided only one way for his escape and salvation, then it makes an infinite and eternal difference as to whether we know it or believe it or act on it or not. If the majority of the human race is doomed to eternal torture unless it escapes through certain prescribed conditions, does it make any difference whether we know it or not? And, if he is not so doomed, does it make no difference to the heart and hope, the life, the cheer, the courage and inspiration of man, whether or not we lift from the brain and the heart this horrible incubus of dread and fear? Here are all these churches with their wealth, their intelligence, their enthusiasm, their inspiration, ready to do something for humanity. Does it make any difference whether they are doing the right thing for it or not? We could revolutionize the world if we could be guided by intelligence, and find out what man really needs, and devote ourselves to the accomplishment of what that is. The waste, the waste, the waste of money and thought and energy and time and inspiration poured into wrong channels, unguided by intelligence, directed towards things that do not need to be done, and away from things that do need to be done! These are the questions involved in discussions as to what God is and has done and is going to do with his world. The one thing we need, then, almost more than all others just now, is to be led by the truth, and have the truth make us free from the errors and the burdens of the past, so that we may place ourselves truly at the disposal of God for the service of our fellows. O star of truth down-shining, Through clouds of doubt and fear, I ask but 'neath your guidance My pathway may appear. However long the journey, How hard soe'er it be, Though I be lone and weary, Lead on, I'll follow thee. I know thy blessed radiance Can never lead astray, However ancient custom May tread some other way. E'en if through untrod desert Or over trackless sea, Though I be lone and weary, Lead on, I'll follow thee. The bleeding feet of martyr Thy toilsome road have trod; But fires of human passion May lead the way to God. Then, though my feet should falter, While I thy beams can see, Though I be lone and weary, Lead on, I'll follow thee. Though loving friends forsake me Or plead with me in tears, Though angry foes may threaten To shake my soul with fears, Still to my high allegiance I must not faithless be, Through life or death, forever Lead on, I'll follow thee. DOUBT AND FAITH-BOTH HOLY. THE object of all thinking is the discovery of truth. And truth for us, what is that? It is the reality of things as related to us. There has been a good deal of metaphysical discussion first and last as to what things are "in themselves." It seems to me that this, if it were possible to find it out, might be an interesting matter, might satisfy our curiosity, but is of absolutely no practical importance to us. I do not believe that we can find out what things are in themselves, in the first place; and I do not believe that, if we could, it would be of any service to us. What we want to know is what things are as related to us, as touching us, as bearing upon our life, upon our practical affairs. Once more: there has been a good deal of discussion as to whether the universe is really what it appears to be to us. They tell us that it is quite another thing from the point of view of other creatures, to beings differently constituted from ourselves. Again, all this may be. It might be interesting to me, for example, to look at the world from the point of view of the fly or of the bird or some one of the animals; but, again, while it might satisfy my curiosity, it could be of no practical importance to me. It might be very interesting to me to know how the universe looks from the point of view of an angel. But, so long as I am not an angel, but a man, what I need to know is what the universe is as related to man. So truth, I say, then, is the reality of things as related to us. I must make another remark here, in order perfectly to clear the way. Philosophers and scientific men, a certain class of them, are perpetually warning us of the dangers of being anthropomorphic. Some one has said, "Man never knows how anthropomorphic he is." This means, as you know, that we look at things from the point of view of ourselves. We see things as men, as anthropoi. This has been erected in certain quarters into a good deal of a bugbear in the way of thinking. We are told we can never know the universe really, because we shape everything into our own likeness, we are anthropomorphic, we look at everything from the point of view of men. I grant the charge; but, instead of being frightened by it, I accept it with content. How else should we look at things except from the point of view of men, since we are men? We cannot look at them in any other way. Let us be, then, anthropomorphic. The only thing we need to guard against is this: we must not assume that we have exhausted the universe, and that we know it all. This is the evil of a certain type of anthropomorphism. But I cannot understand why it is important for us to be anything else but anthropomorphic. I want to know how things look to a man, what things are to a man, how things affect a man, how I am to deal with things, being a man. This is the only matter, let me repeat again, which is of any practical importance to us, until we become something other than men. Truth, then, the truth that we desire to find, is the reality of things as related to us. Now doubt and faith are attitudes of mind, and are neither good nor bad in themselves, either of them. They are of value only as they help us in the discovery of this reality about which I have been speaking. If a certain type of doubt stands in our way in seeking for truth, then that doubt so far is evil. If a certain something, called faith, stands in the way of our seeking frankly and fearlessly for the truth, that is evil. If -doubt helps us to find truth, it is good: if faith helps us to -find truth, it is good. But the only use of either of them is to help us discover and live the truth. The attitude of the Church and by the Church I mean the historic Church of the past towards doubt and faith is well known to us. It has condemned doubt almost universally as something evil, sinful. It has extolled faith as something almost universally good. But in my judgment and I will ask you when I get through, perhaps, to consider as to whether you do not agree with me the trouble with the human mind up to the present time has not been a too great readiness to doubt: it has been a too great inclination to believe. There has been too much of what has been called perhaps by the time I am through you will think miscalled faith; and there has been too little of honest, fearless, earnest doubt. This is perfectly natural, when you consider how the world begins, and the steps by which it advances. Let us take as an illustration the state of mind of a child. A child at first does not doubt, does not doubt anything. It is ready to believe almost anything that father, mother, nurse, playmate, may say to it. And why? In the first place it has had no experience yet of anything but the truth being told it; and in the next place it lives in a world where there are no canons or standards of probability. In the child- world there are no laws, there are no impossibilities, there is nothing in the way of anything happening. The child mind does not say, in answer to some statement, Why, this does not seem reasonable. The child's reason is not yet developed into any practical activity. The child does not say, Why, this cannot be, because there is such a force or such a law that would be contravened by it. The child knows nothing about these forces or laws: it is a sort of a Jack- and-the-Beanstalk world. The beanstalk can grow any number of feet over night in the world in which the child lives. Anything is possible. If father and mother and nurse tell the child about Santa Claus coming down the chimney with a pack of toys on his back, it does not occur to the child to note the fact that the chimney flue is no more than six inches in diameter, and that Santa Claus and his pack could not possibly pass through such an opening. All this is beyond the range or thought of the stage of development at which the child has arrived. So in the childhood world. As I said, anything may happen. But you will note, beautiful, sunny, lovely as this childhood world is as a phase of experience, as a stage of development, sweet as may be the memory of it, yet, if the child is ever to grow to manhood, is ever to be anything, ever to do anything, it must outgrow this Jack-and-the- Beanstalk world, this Santa Claus world, this world in which anything may happen, and must begin to doubt, begin to question, begin to test things, to prove things, find out what is real and what is unreal, what is true and what is untrue, must measure itself against the realities of things, learn to recognize the real forces and the laws according to which they operate, so as to deal with them, obey them, make them serve him, enable him to create character and to create a new type of civilization, new things on the face of the earth. Now what is true of each individual child has been true of the race. The world started in childhood; and for thousands of years it believed very easily, it believed altogether too much for its good, it believed altogether too readily. Naturally, perhaps, necessary in that stage of its development; but so long as it remained in that stage there was no possibility of its becoming master of the earth. Note, for example, the state of mind of the old Hebrews, I use them merely as an illustration, because you are familiar with their story as told in the Old Testament. Similar things are true of every race on the face of the earth. They knew nothing about the real nature of this universe. They knew nothing about natural forces working in accordance with what we call natural laws. Consequently, they lived in a child- world, a world of magic and miracle, a world in which anything might happen. It did not trouble one of the people of that time to be told that, in answer to the prayer of one of the prophets, an axe-head which had sunk in the water rose and floated on the surface. There were no natural laws in his mind contradicted by an asserted fact like that. It never occurred to him to be troubled about it. There was nothing very startling to him in being told that the sun stood still for an hour or two to enable a general to finish a battle in which he was engaged. He did not know enough about the universe to see what tremendous consequences would be involved in the possibility of a thing like that. He was not troubled when you told him that a man had been swallowed by a great fish, and had lived for three days and three nights in its stomach, and had come out uninjured. There was no improbability in it to him. Simply, a question as to whether God had chosen to have the fish large enough so that it could swallow him. To be told again that a human body that could eat food and digest it, a body like ours, might rise into the air and pass out of sight into some invisible heaven, not very far away, there was nothing incredible about it. He knew nothing about the atmosphere, limited in its range so that it would be impossible to breathe beyond a certain distance from the planet. He knew nothing about the intense cold that would make life impossible just a little way above the surface. The world in which our forefathers lived until modern times was just this magic, Jack-and-the-Beanstalk world, a world without any impossibilities in it, without any improbabilities in it. All this thought of the true and the untrue, the possible and the impossible, the probable and the improbable, is the result of the fact that man has grown up, has left his childhood behind him, has begun to think, has begun to study, has begun to search for reality, to find out the nature of the world in which he lives, the forces with which he must deal, to understand the universe at least in some narrow range, measured by his so-far experience. The world, then, until modern times has believed too readily, has accepted things too easily. Let us note, for example, what have been called by way of pre-eminence the Ages of Faith, the Middle Ages, the age, say, from the seventh or eighth century until the thirteenth or fourteenth. What was characteristic of those ages? Were they grand, noble? They were ages of ignorance, of superstition, of cruelty, of immorality, of poverty, of tyranny, of degradation. Almost everything existed that men would no longer bear to-day; and hardly any of the grand things that characterize modern civilization had then been heard of. Where did this modern civilization of ours begin? Did it ever occur to you that it began when men began to doubt? It began, we say, with the Renaissance. What was the Renaissance? The Renaissance was the birth of doubt, the birth of question, the demand on the part of men, who began to wake up and think, for evidence. It was the beginning of the scientific age, the birth of the scientific spirit which has renovated, re- created, uplifted the world. Men began to think, to look about them, and to prove all things. And instead of holding fast all things, as they had been doing in the past, they began to hold fast only the things which they found by experience, and after testing and trial, to be good. Here began, then, the civilization of the world; and all that is finest and highest in industry, in education, in discovery, in the whole external civilization of the world, came in with the coming of this spirit that questions and that asks for proof. I do not wish you to understand me as supposing that all kinds of doubt are good, equally good. The Church, as I said a little while ago, has been accustomed to teach us that doubt was wrong; and there are certain kinds of doubt that are morally wrong, certain kinds of doubt that are disastrous to the highest and finest life of the world. I wish now to analyze a little and define and make clear these distinctions, that you may see the kind of doubt which is evil and the kind of doubt which is good. There are doubts which spring out of the fact that men, under the influence of personal interest, as they suppose, or strong desire, wish to follow certain courses, wish to walk in certain paths; and they doubt and question the laws, moral or mental, religious or what not, which stand in their way, which would prohibit their having their will. As an illustration of what I mean, suppose a man is engaged in a certain kind of business, or wishes to manage his business in a certain kind of way. He suspects, if he stops and thinks about it, that the interests of other people may be involved, that the way in which he wants to conduct his business is a selfish way, that the interests of other people may be injured, that the world as a whole may not be as well off; but it seems to be for his own advantage. Now it is very difficult, indeed, for you to persuade a man that he ought to do right under such circumstances. He is ready to doubt and question as to whether these laws of right are imperative, whether they are divine, whether they may not be waived one side in the interest of the thing which he desires to do. So you must guard yourself very carefully, no matter what the department of life may be that you are facing, if you find yourself doubting under the impulse of your own wishes, if you are trying to argue yourself into the belief that you may be permitted to do something which you very much want to do. Be suspicious of your doubts, then, and remember that probably they are wrong. Great moral questions may be involved, and doubt may mean wreck here. There is another field where doubt is dangerous and presumably an evil. You will find most people, in regard to any question which they have considered or which has touched them seriously, with their minds already made up. They have some sort of a persuasion about it, they have a theory which they have accepted; and, if you bring them a truth with ever such overwhelming credentials which clashes with this preconceived idea or prejudice, the chances are that it would be met with doubt, with denial, not a clear-cut, intelligent, well- balanced doubt, but a doubt that springs out of the unwillingness that a man feels to reconstruct his theory. Let me give you an illustration of what I mean, and this away off in another department of life from our own, so that it will not clash with any of your particular prejudices. Sir Isaac Newton won a great and world-wide renown, and magnificently deserved, by his grand discovery of the law of gravity. You will see, then, how natural it was for people to pay deference to his opinion, to be prejudiced in favor of his conclusions. It was perfectly natural and, within certain limits, perfectly right. Sir Isaac Newton not only propounded this law of gravity, but he propounded a theory of light which the world has since discovered to be wrong. But it was universally accepted because it was his. It became the accepted scientific theory of the time. By and by a man, unknown up to that time, by the name of Young, studied Newton's theory, and became convinced that it was wrong; and he propounded another theory, the one which to- day is universally accepted through the civilized world. But it was years before it could gain anything like adequate or fair consideration, because the preconception in favor of Newton's theory stood in the way of any adequate consideration of the one which was subsequently universally adopted. So you will find scientific men, I know any quantity of them, grand in their fields, doing fine work, who are not willing to consider anything which would compel a reconstruction of their theories and ideas. This is true not only in the scientific field, but it is true everywhere: it is true in politics. How many men can you get fairly to consider the political position of his opponent? He not only doubts the rightness and the sense of it, but he is ready to deny it. How many people can you get fairly to weigh the position of one who occupies a religious home different from their own? And these religious prejudices, being bound up with the tenderest and noblest sentiments, feelings, and traditions of the human heart, become the strongest of all, and so are in more danger of standing in the way of human progress than anything else in all the world. People identify their theories of religion with religion itself, with the honor of God, with the worship and the love of God, and feel that somehow it is impious for them to consider the question whether their intellectual theories are correct or not; and so the world stands by the ideas of the past, and opposes anything like finer and nobler ideas that offer themselves for consideration. And not only in the religious field; but these religious prejudices stand in the way of accepting truths outside the sphere of religion. For example, when Darwin published his book, "The Origin of Species," the greatest opposition it met with was from the religious world. Why? Had they considered Darwin's arguments to find out whether they were true? Nothing of the kind. But they flew to the sudden conclusion that somehow or other the religion of the world was in danger, if Darwinism should prove to be true. And it is very curious to note I wonder how long the world will keep on repeating that serio-comic blunder from the very beginning it has been the same; almost every single step that the world proposes to take in advance is opposed by the constituted religious authorities of the time because they assume at the outset that the theories which they have been holding are divinely authorized and infallible, and that it is not only untrue, this other statement, but that it is impious as well. The doubt, then, that springs from preconceived ideas is not only unjustifiable, but may be dangerous and wrong. Then there is another kind of doubt against which you should beware. There are certain doubts that, if accepted and acted on, stand in the way of the creation of the most magnificent facts in the world. Take as an illustration of what I mean: when Napoleon, a young man in Paris, was asked to take command of the guard of the city, suppose he had doubted, questioned, distrusted, his own ability; suppose he had been timid and afraid, the history of the world would have been changed by that one doubt. Take another illustration. At the opening of our war or in the months just preceding the beginning of active hostilities the man then occupying the presidential chair had no faith, no faith in himself, no faith in the perpetuity of our institutions, no faith in the people; and so he sat doubting, while everything crumbled in pieces around him. And then appeared a man in whom the people had little faith at first, and who had no great faith perhaps in his own ability; but he had infinite faith in God, faith in right, faith in the people, faith in the possibilities of freedom trusted in the hands of the people. And this faith created a new nation. If there had been doubt in the heart of Abraham Lincoln, again the history of the world would have been &hanged. He believed that "Right is right, since God is God, And right the day must win: To doubt would be disloyalty, To falter would be sin." You see, then, here is another field where you had better be wary of doubt. Do not doubt yourself, do not doubt the possibilities of noble action, noble character, of achievement. We say of a young man entering life, brimful of enthusiasm, that all this will be toned down by and by; and we speak of it as though the enthusiasm itself somehow was a fault or a folly. And yet it is just this enthusiasm of the young men that moves and lifts the world. It is this faith in themselves and in the possibility of great things, it is this faith that lies at the heart of every invention, of every great discovery, of every magnificent achievement. Read the history of invention. The world is full of stories of men who got a new idea. They were laughed at, they were told it was impracticable; and, if they had been laughed out of it, it would have been impracticable. It was their faith in the possibility of some great new thing, their faith in the resources of the universe, their faith in themselves as able to discover some new truth and make it applicable to the needs of the world, it was this faith which has been at the root of the grandest things that have ever been done. It is this which was in the heart of Columbus as he sailed out towards the West. It is this which was in the heart of Magellan as he studied the shadow of the earth across the face of the moon, and believed in the story that shadow told him against the constituted authorities of the world. But now let us turn sharply, and find out where doubt does come in, and where it is as honorable, as noble, as necessary as faith. People misuse this word "faith." Doubt applies to all questions of fact that may be investigated, to all questions of history, to all questions open to the exercise of the critical faculty. For example, if I am told that Moses wrote the Pentateuch, and I say I accept that statement on faith, I am abusing the dictionary. I have no business to accept it on faith. Faith has nothing whatever to do with it. It is a pure matter of scholarship. It is a matter of study, of investigation, a matter of clear and hard intelligence and nothing more. Suppose I am told that the Catholic Church is infallible, and I am asked to accept it as an article of faith. Here, again, the introduction of the word "faith" into a domain like that is an impertinence. Faith has nothing whatever to do with it. That is a question of fact. We can read history for the last eighteen hundred years. We can find out what the Catholic Church has said and what the Catholic Church has done, as to whether it has proved itself absolutely infallible or not. It is a matter of study and decision intellectually; and it is my duty to doubt that which does not bring authentic credentials in a field like this. Take the question of the authorship of the Gospel of John. Was it written by the apostle John, who lay in the bosom of Jesus, and was called the beloved disciple? Have I any business to say I have faith that it was written by him, and let it rest there? Faith has nothing to do with it. We can trace the history of that book, find out when first it was referred to, follow it back as far as possible, find out whether it was in existence before the apostle John had died or not. It is a pure matter of criticism, a matter of study; and I have no business to accept it as a matter of faith, because, if I do, I am in danger not only of deceiving myself, but of misleading the world. And truth, we cannot say it too often or too emphatically, truth is the only thing that is holy in investigations of this kind. Men's beliefs and mistakes, old, venerable, reverenced though they may have been by thousands and for hundreds of years, are no less unworthy longer to delude the minds of men. Truth is divine, truth is the one object of our search. Now let us come to consider for a moment the nature of faith. I said a little while ago that the word is very frequently misused. Nine times out of ten, when I hear people using the word "faith" and I see the connection in which they use it, I discover they do not know the meaning of the word. That which has favor generally under the name of faith is simple credulity. It is closing the eyes and accepting something on somebody's authority without any investigation. That, remember, is not faith. Let us see now if I can give you a clear idea of what faith really is; and now I have the Bible and I am glad to say it behind me. This magnificent chapter,* a portion of which I read as our lesson this morning, gives precisely the same idea of faith as that which I am going to outline. What is faith? Faith is a purely rational faculty. It is not irrational, but it is perfectly understandable. Suppose there is a man suddenly accused of a crime, and I never saw him before, I do not even know his name; but I go into court when he is brought up for trial, and I say that I have faith in that man, and I do not believe that he committed the crime. Do you not see that I am talking nonsense? I have no business to have faith in him, there is no ground for faith, it is an entire misuse of the word. But now take another case. Here is a man that I have known for twenty years. I have seen him in business. I have seen him in his home, among his neighbors and friends, and in the street. I have met him in all sorts of relations. I have talked with him, I have tested him. I have been intimate with him. He is suddenly accused of crime, and is brought into court. I appear, and say I have faith in that man, I do not believe that he committed the crime. I do not know that he did not commit it; but I have grounds here for faith. In the light of his past life, of his experience, of his temptations, of his opportunities to go wrong, and of his having gone right, in the light of all this past experience of years, I have faith in this man; and I say it, and I am talking reason and sense. In the other case I am talking folly. Faith, you see, is a rational faculty. Let me give you another illustration. Suppose I am driving along through the country some morning when there is a very thick fog hanging over the landscape. The fog is so thick that I can see no more than ten or fifteen feet ahead of me; but I discover that I am near the bank of a river, and I come to the entrance to a bridge. I can see enough to know that here is an abutment of a bridge and an arch springing out into the fog. I drive on to that bridge with simple confidence. I do not know that there is any other end to the bridge. I have never seen it before. I have seen other bridges, however; and I know that, generally, bridges not only begin somewhere, but end somewhere. So, though I do not know for certain that the bridge ends on the other side of the river, for aught I know there may be a break in it, the bridge may not be completed, something may have happened to it, I confidently drive on; and in ninety-nine times out of a hundred my faith is justified by the result. This is a pure act of faith, but faith, do you not see, based in reality, springing out of experience, and so a purely rational act of the mind. Let me give you one illustration of the scientific use of faith, very striking, beautiful, as it seems to me. The only time Mr. Huxley was in this country, I happened to be in New York, and heard him give the opening one of a brief course of three lectures in Chickering Hall. He was very much interested then in the ancestry of the horse. Most of you are probably aware of the fact that they have traced its ancestry to a little creature having five toes, like ordinary animals. At the time that Mr. Huxley was here, one link in this chain was missing; that is, one of the forms in the line of the horse's ancestors had not been discovered. But here, for example, was the first one and the second one, we say, and the third one was missing, and here was the fourth one, and here was the horse itself. Now, in the light of the presumable uniformity of nature, Mr. Huxley went on to describe this missing animal. He said, if the remains of this creature are ever found, they will be so and so; and he went into an accurate detailed explanation as to what sort of creature it would be. He had not been at his home in England a year before Professor Marsh, of Yale College, discovered this missing link in Colorado, and it answered precisely to the description which Professor Huxley had beforehand given of it. Now here is a case of scientific prophecy, scientific faith, a faith based on previous scientific observations, based on the experienced uniformity of nature. Mr. Huxley did not know, he could not have known; but he believed. He believed in the universe, he believed in the sanity of the universe, he believed in the uniformity, the order, the beauty of the universe; and the result justified his faith. Faith, then, is a purely rational faculty. It has nothing to do with the past, but is always the evidence of things hoped for, the substance of something not yet seen. It is always looking along the lines of possible experience for something as possibly or probably to be. Now at the end I wish to suggest a few things that are in the rightful province and field of faith, fields where we can fearlessly exercise this grand faculty, where indeed we must exercise it if we are to achieve the highest and finest results in the world. And, in the first place, quoting the words of the old writer, let me say, "Have faith in God." I do not mean by this, accept certain intellectual statements or propositions about him, though they may be mine, and though I may thoroughly accept and believe them. You may doubt the representation of God that is made in any one of the theologies of the world, as to whether the statements made about him are accurate. It is not this intellectual belief that I am talking about at this minute. Have faith in God! You may not even use the name. I am no such stickler for phrases as to condemn a man who cannot say "God." I have known a good many men, who have hesitated to pronounce the name, who were infinitely more divine in their life and character than those who are glibly uttering it every hour of their lives. It is not this I mean. It is something deeper, higher, grander than that. As you look along the lines of history from the far-off time when we begin to trace it until to-day, and see the magnificent march of advance, an orderly universe lightening and glorifying as it advances, becoming ever finer and higher and better; as you observe the order and truth and beauty and good dominant, and ever coming to be more and more dominant as the years advance, believe in this and trust this, trust to all possibilities of something finer and grander by way of outcome in the future. Have faith in God! And, then, have faith in truth. I meet only a few people that seem to me to have utter faith in truth, who really believe that it is safe to tell the truth, always tell it. I talk with a great many people I wish to mention this as an illustration of what I mean who speak in the greatest commendation of the Roman Catholic Church. They say, We do not know what we should do in this country if we had not the Roman Catholic Church to keep a certain section of the people down, to keep them in order. I wonder if people ever realize just what this means. It means a lack of faith in God and faith in truth and faith in humanity, all three. If it is not safe to tell the truth, then I am not responsible for it. I propose to say it, although people tell me that there is danger of the explosion of the universe on account of it. If there is, I am not responsible for making it true. Oh, I get so tired of this kind of timidity, this playing hide-and-seek with people! I have had a minister tell me that he wished he was free to tell the truth in his pulpit, as I am; and then I have had people in his congregation tell me afterwards that they wished their minister would preach the truth plainly, as I did. Simply playing hide-and-seek with each other! You remember the story of the man in Italy, who asked the priest if he really believed the religion of the country; and the priest said, "Oh, no! we have to go slowly on account of the people; they believe it." And when the people were asked if they believed it, they said, "Oh, no, we are not such fools; but the priests believe it." And so people play hide-and-seek with each other, not daring to tell the magnificent, clear truth of things. Have faith in the truth. It is feared that it is not quite safe to tell people the truth, because they are not quite ready for it; and I have had no end of conversations during the religious discussion of the last two or three weeks right in this line. It seems to me very much like saying that, because a man has been shut up in a dark prison for a long time, you had better keep him there, because it would be such a shock to him suddenly to face the light. Undoubtedly, it would be a shock. Undoubtedly, it would trouble and stagger people for a little while to be told the simple truth; but how is the world ever to get ahead, if you keep on, as a matter of policy, lying to it for ages? How is it ever going to find the truth? Shall I lie for the glory of God, the supposed honor of God? I will take no such responsibility. Let us have faith in the truth, then. Tell it fearlessly, simply, utterly; and, if God is not able to take care of his own world, why, the sooner it ends and we get into a stage of existence where it is safe to tell the truth, the better. Have faith in men. Have faith in the people. This it is that we trust to in all our hopes of progress for the future. This it is which distinguished Lincoln among our statesmen. You remember that grand saying of his, true and humorous, so that it sticks in our memory, and we can never forget it, "You can fool all the people a part of the time; you can fool a part of the people all the time; but you can't fool all the people all of the time." Here is the basis on which we rest our republic. Our republic is fallen unless the people are really to be trusted. Have faith, then, in the people, faith in their healthy instincts, faith in their general sanity, faith in their desire for the right and the true; and this is a genuine exercise of faith, for the past history of the world justifies it. And, then, have faith in yourself as a child of God. I do not mean conceit now. I do not mean an overestimate of your ability, but belief that you can do great, grand, noble things, belief that you can become something great, noble, grand; belief in the possibility in this life or in some other life of unfolding all that is highest, truest, sweetest, in manhood and womanhood. It is this faith that is able to create the fact and make that which it trusts in. Let us then believe in God, believe in truth, believe in humanity, believe in ourselves; and then we may work towards the coming of that far, grand time when the dreams of the world shall be realized and its faith shall become reality. IS LIFE A PROBATION ENDED BY DEATH? MY subject this morning is an attempted answer to the question, "Is Life a Probation ended by Death?" It will broaden itself naturally, if we cannot accept that theory of it, into the further question, What is the main end and purpose of our life? I take my text from the fifth chapter of the Epistle to the Ephesians, the fifteenth and the sixteenth verses. I will read them as they appear in the Old Version: "See, then, that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time." The idea of the writer is that, as we pass through the world, we should do it with our eyes kept intelligently open, looking about us on every hand, trying to comprehend the situation, to see what things are, and what we ought to do to play our part in the midst of them. Not heedlessly, not unwisely, he says, perhaps hardly the harsh word "fools," but as wise, as persons intelligently ready to take advantage of the situation and make the most of the condition in which one finds himself; redeeming the time, or, as the Revised Version has it, "buying up the opportunity "; being ready, that is, to pay whatever price is necessary in order to make the most of the situation. This, then, is the spirit according to our text in which we should look over the problem of life; and this is the method by which we should attempt to guide its practical affairs. That which people regard as the matter of most importance, any particular theory or plan of life which they may hold to be for them the most desirable, this, of course, is that to which they will direct their chief attention, on which they will lavish their thought, on which they will pour out their care, to which they will consecrate their energies. If now the theory or plan of life be false, if it be inadequate, if one is looking in the wrong direction for the success that he desires, or if he expects to achieve the great end and object of living by means which are not real, which do not match the actual facts of the world and of human life, then of course his effort is so far thrown away. He wastes energies, power, time, enthusiasm on wrong ends which might be used to the attainment of things which are real and fine and high. Is it not then of the utmost importance that our conception of life, what it is for, what we ought to attempt to reach, and how we should make this attempt, should be an accurate one? Any young man starting out in life, if he sets up for himself a goal which is unworthy, which does not match his faculties and powers, and if he proposes to reach it by means which are not adequate to the attainment of his desires, do you not see how he wrecks and wastes his life? His opportunity is gone; and by and by he wakes up to find that the years have been dissipated, and he has not attained any worthy or noble end. If this be true of a young man as he looks forward to a scheme or plan of life here during these few short years, how much more is a similar thing true, when we are contemplating not merely the question of a business, or professional or social failure and success, but are looking at the grander and more inclusive theme of the beginning and aim and outcome of life itself We have inherited from the past the idea that this life here, under the blue sky for a few years, as we live it, is a probation, that we are put here on trial, and that death ends it, and that, when we have passed that line, gone over from that which is visible here into the invisible, we are either "lost" or "saved," and things are definitely fixed forever. I am perfectly well aware that the most of us who are here have given up this idea, though there may remain fragments and suggestions of it in our minds still haunting the chambers of the brain, not yet outgrown, not yet cleared away. But with most people in the modern world, if they are sincere, if they are consistent, the one great question with them is whether they are to be saved or lost in another life. And, if this be the true theory of things, then not only ought men to bend all their thought, their energies, devote their enthusiasms, consecrate their time and money to it as much as they do, but a thousand times more. We look, perhaps, with a sort of amused curiosity, some of us, from what we regard as our superior point of view, at a man like Mr. Moody; and yet Mr. Moody is one man out of a million for his consistency and consecration to the thought which underlies all the Protestant churches of the modern world, with the exception of a few here and there. Mr. Moody believes that this life is a probation ended by death. There are thousands on thousand on thousands of men who say they believe it, who still cast in all their influence with churches that are based on it, and who yet devote their energies mainly to making money, to attaining social success, to pleasures of one kind or another, to political ambitions, who live as though this great fate were not overhanging the world, who meet their neighbors for pleasure or business, believing, if they are sincere, that this neighbor is heedlessly walking on to the brink of a gulf, and yet never speaking to him about it, never saying a word to imply that they really believe it; and yet this fear hangs over them, haunts their consciousness waking or sleeping; and, if you ask them if they believe it, they will say they suppose they do. In hours of danger, when disease threatens them or they are looking death in the face, they are affrighted, and try to flee to the traditional refuge as a place of safety. The whole great Catholic Church teaches that nobody has the slightest chance of being saved except by becoming a member of her great body of believers and partaking of her sacramental means of grace. This, I say then, is the great underlying belief of Christendom; and, if it is true, the world ought to consecrate itself, head and brain and soul, time, money, power, prayer, enthusiasm, everything, to delivering men from the imminent danger. If it is not true, then it ought to be brushed completely one side, put out of consciousness, of thought, of fear. The world ought to be dispossessed of its haunting presence. Why? So that we may fix our attention on the true end and aim of life, and find out what it means to live, how we ought to live, and why and what for, what ought to be the goal of our human endeavor. So long, then, as this belief does lie at the foundation of all the great churches of Christendom, so long as it is employed in all the criticisms of us who do not any longer accept it, it seems to me that it is worth our while to reconsider the question for a little while, so that we may clear our minds and thoughts, and may fix our attention definitely and earnestly on that which ought to be the goal of all our endeavor, our enthusiasm and our hope. Let us, then, look for just a few moments at this theory, and see what it means and implies. It is said that our first father was put on probation, was called upon to decide, not for himself only, but for all his descendants, as to what the future history of the inhabitants of this planet should be. Two famous books were published only a few years ago by Dr. Edward Beecher, the eldest son in that famous family. These were "The Conflict of Ages" and "The Concord of Ages." Dr. Beecher argued that anything like a fair probation on the part of Adam was an impossibility. This in the face of the prevailing beliefs of the time when the books were written. He said that, if a man were to choose on such a momentous question as this, choose adequately, choose fairly, he must be so circumstanced and endowed that he could comprehend the entire result of his choice. He must be able to look down the ages imaginatively, and see on one hand all the line of sin and misery, of death, finite and eternal, which should issue from his choosing in one direction. He must be able to comprehend all the good, the music, the joy, the beauty, the glory, the infinite perfectibility, in this world and the next, which should follow his choice in the other direction. And he said that Adam had no such opportunity as that, and was not endowed with the ability or the experience to make any such momentous choice; in other words, that the fundamental basis of the whole theological scheme of the world was unjust and unfair. This was Dr. Beecher's contention. How did he get over the difficulty? He believed in the pre-existence of human souls, and that in some other life before Adam there must have been an intelligent and fair choice, and that we here and now are only fighting out one stage of the results of that far-off decision. But, if you will stop to think of it a moment, you will see that this puts the difficulty only a little further back: it does not solve it. How does this first person, if it is so, countless millions of ages ago, happen to be endowed with intelligence and experience and ability enough to make such a momentous choice? And now just consider a moment. Is it conceivable that a sane person should intelligently choose evil, unless he had some inherited bias or tendency in that direction? For what does the choice of evil mean? It means sorrow, it means pain, it means death, it means everything horrible, everything undesirable, and means that a person deliberately and intelligently pits himself against an infinite and almighty power in what he knows must be an eternally losing battle. Can you conceive of a sane person making such a choice as that? If one of these first ancestors in the Garden of Eden, or no matter how far back, had a right to choose for himself, I deny his right to choose for me. What right had he to choose for you? What right had he to determine that you should be born with a perverted and corrupt nature, so that you would be certain to choose evil instead of good, helpless in the hands of a fate like this? Now you may look at this theory any way you please, place this probationary choice at the beginning of human history on this planet, or place it just as far back as you will, it is inconceivable, it is unfair, it is unjust, it is insane, it is everything that is foolish and wrong. And yet, note clearly one thing. So long as the world believes this, so long as the one end and aim of human life, as held up to people, is to be saved, think of the waste, think of the time, the anxiety, the enthusiasms, the prayers, the consecrations; think of the wealth, think of the intellectual faculties, think of the moral devotion, this whole power of the world expended on a false issue, turned into wrong channels! Is this a dead question? Is there no reason for us to consider it here in this latter part of the nineteenth century? Why, nine-tenths of Christendom to-day is spending its time in trying to propitiate a God who is not angry and trying to "save" souls that are not "lost." Expending its energies along mistaken channels towards issues that are entirely imaginary! Think, for example, if during the last two thousand years all the time and the money, all the intelligence, all the consecration, could have been spent on those things that would have really helped men to find out the meaning of life, and to illustrate that meaning in earnest living; suppose the money that has been spent on the cathedrals, on the monasteries, spent in supporting hordes and hordes of priests, spent in all the endeavor to save men in a future life, if all this had been used in educating men and training them into a comprehension of what kind of beings they really are, what kind of a world this is in which they have found themselves, spent in training them into mastery of themselves, spent in teaching them how to understand and control the forces of nature in order to serve and develop the higher life, think what a civilization might have been developed here on this poor old planet by this time! How much of the disease, how much of the corruption, how much of the unkindness, how much of the cruelty, how much of all that still remains in us of the animal, might have been outgrown, sloughed off, put underneath our feet! Is it not, then, a vital question, so long as so many thousands, so many millions of people are still consecrating their time, their money, their energy, in the attempt to do that which does not need to be done? Let us turn, now, and for a little while face another theory of human life; try to find out, or to suggest, what we are here on this planet for, what may be accomplished, how much of grand and true may be wrought out as the result of our attempt. The philosopher Kant has somewhere said that there are three things needed to the success of a human life, "something to do, some one to love, something to hope for." The old Catechism says that the chief end of man is "to glorify God and enjoy him forever." I indorse the words of Kant; I agree most heartily and thoroughly with the Catechism. Philip James Bailey, the author of that once famous poem "Festus," has said, "Life's but a means unto an end; that end, Beginning, mean, and end to all things, God." This also I indorse. I believe that life is something inner, something deeper than that which we ordinarily think of as constituting the matters of chief concern regarding it. Let me quote two or three lines again from Bailey's "Festus," familiar to you because so fine. We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. "He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best." What is human life, then? What is it for? The object of life is living. But what does living mean? Most people cannot answer that question, because they have never more than half lived, and consequently have never appreciated its depth and significance. As I have had occasion over and over and over again, to say to business men, and I like to say it on every opportunity, it seems to me, as I look over the face of society, that most people live only in some little fragmentary way, some corner of their being. Most men spend their lives in the attempt to accumulate the means to live, and forget to begin to live at all. Sometimes, as you are riding through the country on a winter evening, you come to a silent farm- house, and you see one window lighted; and, if you should go and knock at the door, you would probably find out that the light is shining from the kitchen, where the family is gathered in the evening, perhaps as a matter of economy to save fire, perhaps to save trouble. And, if you examine the lives of these people, you would find that they live chiefly in the kitchen. They may have a sitting-room where they spend a few leisure hours; perhaps they have the beginning of a library; but they do not spend much time in that. They have little opportunity for the life of the parlor, representing the expansive, social human life which comes into contact with other lives. And so you will find that this, which is a figure, represents that which is true of most of us. We have only begun to live; and we live in the lower ranges of our nature, or perhaps we have touched life on a higher level in some tentative sort of way. But the most of us are only partly alive, have only developed a little of what is possible in us, have only come in contact with some fragments of this wonderful universe that is all around us on every hand. What, then, is the meaning of life? What shall we try to do? What are we here for? I do not attempt to go into the profound explanation of mysteries too deep for me to answer, as to what must have been in the mind of God when he planned and created this universe of which we are a part. My task is a humbler one. Let us see if I can help you comprehend a little part of it. Take an illustration. An immensely wealthy man suddenly dies, leaving his estates to a little boy seven or eight years of age. He has wide stretches of land, hill and valley, river, woods, all that is beautiful as making up a landscape. The house represents the accumulated resources of the experiences and the intelligence of a lifetime. There are not only beautiful drawing-rooms, telling of taste, but there is a library in which is all that the world has been able to accumulate of learning, of literature in every department. Here is another room containing instruments of music and the works of the great composers. There is an art gallery, containing some of the finest masterpieces in the way of painting and sculpture; and then there is a room devoted to scientific experiments,-- chemistry, the microscope, the telescope. Here are means and opportunity for finding out what the world has so far developed. Now has this young boy come into possession of these things? He has inherited them, he is his father's heir. We say they belong to him; but do they belong to him? In what sense and to what extent do they belong to him? They belong to him just in so far and just as fast as he develops himself into capacity of comprehension and enjoyment, no faster, no farther. As he enters upon his inheritance then he is put under tutors. Some man comes to teach him the languages which he does not comprehend; and by and by that part of the library which is composed of books written in other speech than his own begins to belong to him. It belongs to the tutor a good deal more than it does to the child, until the child has learned the lessons of the tutor. And so another teacher comes to instruct him in art; and the masterpieces of art belong to the person of taste, of culture, with appreciation, to the teacher again, to any one who knows and who feels, instead of to the boy, who merely has possession of the title-deeds. Do you see the suggestion of the picture? Man wakes up here on this planet what sort of a being? Not at first "a little lower than God," as the old Psalmist says of him, but only a little higher than the animals, ignorant of himself, ignorant of his surroundings, weak, undeveloped in every faculty and power. He begins, we say, to live; and what does that mean? He begins to explore this wonderful world, which is his heritage; and do you not see that along with this exploration there goes of necessity a process of self- development? I would pit against that statement of Kant's a phrase something like this. The object of life is threefold: it is to become all possible, it is to serve all possible, it is to enjoy all possible. But I cannot outline completely either one of these suggestions; for they blend, they intermingle, as you will see in a moment. They are like different notes in a piece of music that are so blended together that they constitute one tune, while separate they are only fragments, or discords. The first thing, then, if a man wishes really to live, is that he should develop himself, unfold the faculties and powers which lie dormant in him. He is a child of God. He is capable of comprehending within his limit that which is divine. He is capable of being touched, played on, by all the phases and forces of the universe surrounding him. He is an instrument of ten thousand strings; and marvellous may be the music of his life. First, he should be as complete an animal as possible. Then he should develop himself as a being capable of thinking, of knowing. How many men are there that take possession of the intellectual realm that lies around them on every hand? Just think. Let me hint suggestions, illustrations, in one or two directions. A man goes out for a walk in the park, or, better yet, into the country. The park is too artificial, perhaps, to carry just the meaning that I have in mind. Let it be a walk in the country, then. How much do the grasses and the flowers have to say to him? I have a friend in Washington, a famous botanist, a botanist not only of all things that live and grow to-day, but who has pushed his researches back and down into the prehistoric ages so as to understand and explain the records, the prints, the leaves and twigs, the forms of every kind that are on the rocks and left to tell the story of a life that has passed away many thousands on thousands of years ago. How much of all this marvellous realm, or even a suggestion of it, is revealed to the ordinary man as he walks through the field? Look in the direction of geology a moment. Here is a river course; here is the shape of a hill top; do they say anything to the ordinary man who walks with his head down, and occupied with some problem of Wall Street, perhaps? Here are marvels of creative power. God shaped the slope of that hill as really as though he smoothed it down with his hand. And he who understands the methods of world building, of landscape-sculpture, may stand in wonder and awe and reverence before the forces that have been at work for millions of years, and are at work the same to-day. How many men have even a conception of the wonders of the microscopic world? To how many men do the star have anything to say at night? A man looks at a bowlder, unlike any other rock there is to be found anywhere in the neighborhood, and perhaps he does not even ask a question about it; while a man who has made a careful study of these things sees spring up before him in his imagination that long ice age before man lived on the planet, when this bowlder was swept from some far-off place by the glacial power, deposited where it is, scraped on its surface by the passing of the ice, as if God himself had left his sign-manual here, his autograph, that he, in after- ages who might make himself capable of reading, might understand. These merely as fragmentary, brief hints of what it is to live in the intellectual realm. Go up to that realm where the intellect is blended with the emotions, the glamour of pictures, poetry, sculpture, music, beauty of color and form and sound. What a world this is, infinite resources of an infinite universe, appealing to, and, if a man responds, calling out the faculties and powers of his own nature that are capable of dealing with these things, so that a man may feel that he is thinking over the thoughts of God, tracing his footsteps, listening to the marvellous music of his words! This is one of the results of self-development, if a man is unfolding, developing himself, becoming as much as possible. Now let us turn sharply to one of these other phases which I spoke of, of doing what we can to help the world. And now note, this universe is so cunningly contrived that a man cannot possibly be successful as a selfish man. It is one of the most conclusive proofs, it seems to me, not only of the divine goodness, but of the moral meaning and scope of the world. Selfishness is not wicked only, it is the most outrageous folly on the face of the earth. If a man develop himself, if he develops that which is finest in him, that which is best and sweetest and truest, he develops not only his power to think, but his capacity to love, his capacity to enjoy, and to bestow enjoyment; and he cannot possibly succeed in the long run, and in the best ways, on selfish lines. People used to have a notion that he who grasped and retained everything he could get hold of was the fortunate, the successful man. People had an idea in politics, for example, that that nation was happiest which humbled other nations; and, if it was superior to all the rest, by as much as they were poor and devastated, this nation was fortunate. We know now that a nation finds its prosperity in that of other nations, in its ability to exchange, to trade, to carry on all the grand avocations of life with them. If a man writes a book, he wants the world intelligent enough to understand and appreciate it. If a man paints a picture, he wants artistic ability on the part of the public, so that they will appreciate and buy his pictures. If a man carves a statue, he wants the people to appreciate glory of form enough to see how great and true his work is, and reward him for his endeavor. In other words, no man would write a book, and go off with it alone by himself. No man would paint a picture, and hide it. No man would carve a statue, and conceal it from his fellows. We have learned, and are learning constantly in every direction, that our happiness is involved in the happiness of other people. The world is haunted to-day and I thank God that it is with the thought of the unhappiness, the misery, of men. What does it mean? It means that men have developed so on their sympathetic side that they cannot be happy themselves while the world is unhappy. So you see that this self- development, which I placed as the chief thing at the outset in the meaning of life, carries with it the necessity on the part of those who are developed, of doing everything they can to develop and lift up everybody else; so that making the most of yourself means making the most of everybody else. And now, if I turn for a moment to that other point, merely to distinguish it by itself, although I have been dealing with it all the while, the end and aim of life once more is to be happy. I am perfectly well aware that the old Puritan theology has taught otherwise, so far as this life is concerned. I was brought up with the feeling that, if I wanted to do anything, the chances were it was wrong, that it was a good deal more likely to be in the way of virtue if it was something that was disagreeable to me. And yet, curiously enough, this old Puritan theology invented and held up before men, as a lure to lead them to virtue, the most tremendous bribe that ever entered into the imaginations of men, eternal felicity on the one hand, and eternal woe on the other. So that it conceded the very thing that it seemed to deny, that men naturally and necessarily sought happiness, and could not possibly do otherwise. And so we learn to live, to think, to serve others. We are beginning to learn also that this desire for happiness is natural, is necessary, is right. If a man is not happy, you may be sure there is something wrong. If there is pain in the body, it means disease, difficulty, obstruction, something out of the way. It means that God's laws are not perfectly kept. If there is pain up in the mental realm, pain in the moral realm, pain in the spiritual realm, it means always something wrong. Man ought to be happy. He ought to seek happiness as the great end and outcome of human life. And we are learning, as the natural and necessary result of our experiences in knowing and in serving, that just in so far as we know the laws of God, just in so far as we obey the laws of God, just in so far as we help others to know and obey, just in so far there comes into our lives the blessedness of the blessed God. The end of life, then, the object of life here on earth, is to develop ourselves to the utmost. It is to learn to know, take possession of our inheritance, this earth, control all its forces for the service of civilization. It is to rejoice in all this self-development, in all this help, in all this knowledge, in all this power. It is to feel ourselves thrilling with the consciousness that we are sons of God, and are co-operating with him in bringing about the grand result of the ages, the perfection of man. And then what? Death? This is only one stage of our career. We are here at school; we learn our lessons or we do not; we attain the ends we seek after or we only partly attain them or do not attain them at all; and then we go on. Does that mean that it ends there? I do not believe it. I believe that it simply means that we go out into a larger opportunity, from the planet to the system, to the galaxy, to the universe, wider knowledge answering to more magnificent resources in the infinite universe. We, with undeveloped powers that may increase and advance forever, and a universe so complete, so exhaustless, that it may match and lure and lead and rejoice us forever; we being trained as God's children in God's likeness and helping others to attain the same magnificent ends, this I believe to be the significance, the meaning, the purpose, of life. Are there any here this morning who think or fear that the taking away of the old idea concerning the results of Lying may remove moral motive, may undermine character, nay make people less careful to do right? It seems to me hat, if people understand the significance of this universe, and their relation to it, they will find that all the carelessness of motive, the ease of salvation, as they call it, is with the old idea. Our theory is a more strenuous and insistent one. Children are learning as they become wiser that evil is not only evil, but it is folly. A man wishes life, health, happiness, prosperity, all good. He learns, as he goes on, that the universe is in favor of the keeping of its own laws; and that, f he flings himself against the forces of the universe, he is only broken for his pains. If you wish to be healthful, sappy, strong, wish to attain any desirable thing, it is to be bound not in defiance of the laws of the universe, but in loving and tender obedience. And, then, if you only remember that in this universe and coder the universal law of cause and effect you are building to-morrow out of to-day, and next week and next year, and all he future, that every thought, every word, every action, is cemented together as a part of this structure that you build, hat you can make your own future for good or ill, and that you cannot build it successfully except in accordance with he eternal laws of things, then you find that here are the most insistent and tremendous motives it is possible for the human mind to conceive. This life of ours, if we lead it nobly and truly, then, we shall find to be a growth into the likeness of the Divine, a growth into an increasing opportunity to share the work of our Father in building and helping men, and that, as the result of this, joy, infinite joy, is to fill our hearts until we share the very blessedness of our Father. God made our lives to be a song Sweet as the music of the spheres, That still their harmonies prolong For him who rightly hears. The heavens and the earth do play Upon us, if we be in tune: Winter shouts hoarse his roundelay, And tender sweet pipes June. But oftentimes the songs are pain, And discord mars our harmonies: Our strings are snapped by selfish strain, And harsh hands break our keys. But God meant music; and we may, If we will keep our lives in tune, Hear the whole year sing roundelay, December answering June. God ever at his keyboard plays, Harmonics, right; and discords, wrong: "He that hath ears," and who obeys, May hear the mystic song. SIN AND ATONEMENT. For the sake of clearness, and in order that you may definitely comprehend the doctrine of sin and atonement which I believe to be the true one, I need in the first place to outline as a background that which lies at the foundation of all the popular theologies of Christendom. I am perfectly well aware that at least a part of the time, while I am doing this, I shall be traversing ground with which you are already familiar. Some of it, however, I think may be somewhat strange to you. The tradition begins with the story of a war in heaven. In some way rebellion began among the angels; and he who had been Lucifer, the light-bearer, prince among the glorious sons of God, took up arms of rebellion against the Almighty. Naturally, he failed in this inevitably losing battle, and was cast out into the abyss, with a third part of all the angels, who had followed him. Then the tradition goes on: God decided to create the world, that the sons of men born and trained here might ultimately take the places that had been held by the angels who had been cast out on account of their sin. But Satan, seeing this fair and beautiful earth, this wondrous handiwork of God, determined, if possible, to thwart and defeat the purposes of the Almighty. He therefore invades this beautiful world. He finds Adam and Eve in their condition of perfect felicity, innocent, but inexperienced; and they fall a ready prey to his intention. They then share his rebellion, accept him instead of God as king. Henceforth they are followers of him in his age-long warfare against light and truth, and, unless in some way saved, are to be sharers of his eternal destiny, cast out into chains and darkness forever. Now comes the necessity for noting for a moment the nature of sin on this theory. You see it is not ignorance, it is not weakness merely, it is not inherited passion only: it is conscious and purposeful rebellion against God, putting yourself at enmity with his truth, his righteousness, his love. In action it is some specific deed done against God or against his truth or his right. As a state of mind, it is a heart perverted, choosing always that which is evil, a heart at enmity with God and with all that is good; and the theologians have always been obliged, as a matter of consistency, to hold, no matter how noble, how unselfish men might appear to be, that the natural man has inherently, always, necessarily been evil. He carries about with him the taint of original sin; that is, sin of constitution, ingrained, inherited, that which is of the very fibre of his being. This is the character of man as required by the old theological systems; and this is how it happened to come about. Evil is not something natural, not imperfection, not something undeveloped, not yet outgrown. Sin originated outside of this world, invaded it, and worked its ruin and destruction. Now comes the device that has been called the Atonement, by which it is supposed that God is going to be able to save at least a part of this rebellious humanity. There have been a good many different theories of the atonement that have been held, eighteen or twenty varieties of the doctrine, three or four of which I must outline, in order to make them clear to your mind, that you may see what have been the devices by which the theologians have supposed that they could find a way for the deliverance of man from this condition of loss, and fit him to share the felicity for which he was originally intended. Of course, the main point in the whole scheme is that the Second Person of the Trinity becomes incarnate, comes down here to this world, is born, grows up, teaches, suffers and at last is put to an ignominious death. This is the central idea of the doctrine of the atonement; or, rather, the Christ is the central figure in that doctrine. But how is it supposed to work out the atonement that is necessary, in order that man may be saved? You will see that the world, according to the ideas I have been delineating, is in a condition of rebellion. What men need is to be persuaded that they are wrong, convinced of sin, in theological language, and then made repentant, and in some way be forgiven for the wrong which they have done. Now it is supposed that God must invent some scheme by which to make it possible for him to save these lost and fallen men. If you read the parable of the Prodigal Son as Jesus has so tenderly, touchingly, beautifully outlined it for us, you will see that there is no thought or plan or necessity for either in that. The son left his home, followed the impulses and passions of youth, had gone among those that were degraded, had soiled his character, done despite to his father's love, injured his own nature, degraded himself by his associations and actions. But when at last he awakes, becomes conscious of his father's love and righteousness and truth, and says, "I will arise, and go to my father," there is no talk of God's not being ready to receive him, or not being able to receive him, or needing to have something done before he can receive him, no thought of anybody's suffering any more in order that he may be forgiven. You see all these elements that are associated with the popular doctrines of atonement are not once thought of, never even alluded to. He simply arises, and goes to his father; and his father is so anxious to help him that he goes to meet him before he reaches the father's house, and gladly falls on his neck and kisses him and folds him in his arms. It only needs that the son should recognize the righteousness and goodness of his father, and should wish to go back. That is the doctrine of Jesus as taught in this wonderfully sweet and beautiful parable. Now what are the theories of atonement as outlined in the popular theology? For the first thousand years of Christian history one of the strangest conceptions possessed the ecclesiastical mind that has ever been dreamed of. It was held literally that through the sin of Adam the human race had become the rightful subjects of Satan, that they belonged to him. He was their king, their emperor, their ruler, and had a right to them in this world and the next. And so some diplomatic negotiations must be entered into with the Devil, in order to deliver a certain part of these his subjects, and open the way for them to be saved. So the Church Fathers taught that Satan recognized in Christ his old adversary in heaven, and he entered into a bargain with God that, if he could have Christ delivered over to him, in exchange for that he would give up his right to so many of the souls of men as were to be saved as the result of this compact. So the work of the atonement used to be preached as being this sort of bargain entered into with Satan. But note what quaint, naive ideas possessed the minds of people at that time. Satan did not know that Jesus possessed a divine nature, and that, consequently, he could not beholden of death; and so, when he entered into this bargain, he was cheated, he found out to his dismay that he had lost not only humanity, but Christ also, had been defrauded of them both. This was the doctrine of the atonement that was preached during the early centuries of the Christian Church, at least in certain parts of Europe. But later there came another doctrine, the belief that the sufferings of the Christ were a substitute offered to God for what would have been the sufferings of the lost. He was made sin for us, he who had known no sin, as the New Testament phraseology has it. So that he, being infinite, in a brief space of time during his little earthly career, during his suspension on the cross and his descent into hell, was able to suffer as much pain as all the lost would have suffered throughout eternity. And this suffering of the Christ was supposed to be accepted on the part of God as the substitute for that which he would have exacted on the part of the souls of those that for his sake were to be saved. There is still another theory that I must mention briefly, that which is called the governmental theory, that which I was taught during my course of theological instruction. The idea was that God had a moral government to maintain, not only on this earth, but throughout the range of the universe among all his intelligent creatures, and, if he permitted his laws to be broken without exacting an adequate penalty, then all governmental authority would be overthrown. In other words, men took their poor human legal devices, their political ideals, and lifted them into the heavens, made them the models after which it was supposed God was to govern his great, intelligent universe. So they said that God would be willing to forgive, he would like to forgive, he was loving and tender and kind, but it was not safe, safe for the interests of his universal government, for him to forgive any one until an adequate penalty had been paid in expiation of human sin. You see, according to this theory, it does not apparently make much difference who it is that suffers, whether it is the person who has committed the sin or not; but somebody must pay an adequate penalty, and Jesus volunteered to do this, to be the victim, and so to deliver man from the righteous deserts which he had incurred as a transgressor of the law of God. Gradually, however, as the world became civilized, as wider and broader thoughts manifested themselves in the human mind, as tenderer and truer feelings took possession of the human heart, these theories receded into the background; and there came to the front I remember the bitter controversies over it in my younger days what was called the Moral Theory of the Atonement. The originator and sponsor for this theory was the famous Dr. Horace Bushnell, of Hartford. He taught that God did not need the punishment of anybody to uphold the integrity of his moral government. He taught that God was not angry with the race, and did not care to exact a penalty before he was ready to forgive human sin. He taught that the inner nature of God was love, and that in the Second Person of the Trinity he came to earth, was born, grew up, taught, suffered, died, as a manifestation to the world of his love, of his goodness, of his readiness to forgive and help, and that the efficacy of the atonement as thus wrought on the part of the Christ was in its revelation to men of the love and saving power of righteousness. This was the moral theory of the atonement. It was not supposed to work any result in the nature of God or his disposition towards men. Its effect was to work along the lines of human thought and human action: it was to affect men, and make them willing to be saved instead of making God willing to save them. This was the moral theory of the atonement; and you will see how it gradually approaches that which intelligent and free men, it seems to me, must hold to-day in the light of their careful study of human history and human nature. It is almost the theory which is being held by the freest and noblest men of to-day. The difference between it and that which I shall in a moment try to set forth is chiefly that Dr. Bushnell confines this work of the atonement to the person and history and character of one man instead of letting all men share in this divine and atoning work which is being wrought out through all the ages. Let me now come to set forth what I believe to be the simple and demonstrated truth. My objections against this old theory are threefold. I will mention them, and have done with them in a word. In the first place, the supposed origin of sin in heaven seems to me so absurd as to be utterly unthinkable. This idea of war in heaven, rebellion against God, smacks too much of the Old World traditions, of the mythologies of Greece and Rome and of other peoples. Jupiter could dethrone his father, the god Saturn, because Saturn was not almighty and all-wise. These gods of the ancient time were merely exaggerated types of human heroes and despots. There could be war among them, and one of them overthrown; and Jupiter could divide the universe, after he had conquered and dethroned his father, with his two brothers. All this is reasonable, when you are talking about finite creatures; but try to think for one moment of an archangel, a pure and clear-eyed intelligence, deliberately choosing to rebel against Omnipotence! He must have known it would be utterly, absolutely, forever hopeless! Intelligent creatures do not rebel under conditions like that, particularly when you combine with the absolute hopelessness of the case the fact that he knew he was choosing misery, suffering, forever. As I said, the whole conception of the origin of evil that implies the rebellion of a spiritual being who knew what he was doing is inexpressibly absurd, so absurd that we may dismiss it as impossible. If there were any such rebellion, if you waive the absurdity for the moment and consider the possibility, God would be responsible; for he made him. The whole theory is not only absurd: it is unjust in its implications towards both God and man. And then, and perhaps we need not say any more about it, we know that it is not true. It did not even originate in the Bible, it did not even originate among the Jews: it is nothing in the world but a pagan myth imported into Jewish tradition just a few hundred years before the birth of Jesus. It is of no more authority in rational human thought than the story of Jason or Hercules, not one particle. Let us now turn, then, to what we know, from the history of man and the scientific study of the universe, to be something approaching the reality of things. People have always been talking about the origin of evil. It is not the origin of evil that we have to face or deal with or explain at all. Let me ask you to consider for a moment the condition of the world when man first appeared on this planet. Here among the lower animals were what? All the vices and all the crimes that we can conceive of, only they were not vices nor crimes at all. There were all the external actions and all the internal feelings and passions; but they were not vices, and they were not crimes. Why? Because there was no moral sense which recognized anything better, no moral standard in the light of which they might be judged. Here, for example, in this lower world, were all hatreds, jealousies, envies, cruelties, thefts, greeds, murders, every kind of action that we speak of as evil in man. And yet I said there was no evil there, no moral evil there, because there was no consciousness, no recognition, of the distinction between the lower and the higher. This was a part of the natural and intended order of the development of life, not an accident, not an invasion from the outside, not a thwarting of the will of God, not an interference with his purpose, all of this a part of the working out of his purpose. Now, when man appeared, what happened? The origin, not of evil, but the origin of goodness. A conscience was born. Man came into possession of a moral ideal, in the light of which he recognized something higher than this animalism that was all around him, and became conscious of the fact that he must battle against that, and put it under his feet. So that the life of the world, from that day to this, has been the growth, the gradual increase, and the gradual conquest of good over that which was in existence before. There is no fall of man, then, there is no conscious and purposeful rebellion against God to be accounted for, there is no need of any devil to explain the facts. He is only an encumbrance, only in the way, only makes it difficult and practically impossible to solve our problem. The old story was that, after the rebellion, pain and death and all evil came into the human world; and the natural world was blighted. Thorns and briers and thistles sprang up on every hand; and animals which before had been peaceful began to fight and destroy each other. We all know this to be a childish myth, and pagan. The actual history of the world has been something entirely other than that. Now I do not wish that you should suppose that I minimize evil, that I make light of sin, that I do not properly estimate the cruelties and the wrongs that have devastated the world. I need only suggest to you that you look in this direction and that to see how hideous all these evils may be; how bitter, how cruel, is the fruit of wrong thoughts and of wrong actions. Look at a man, for example, divine in the possibilities of his being, but through vice, through drink, through habits of one kind and another, corrupted until it is an insult to a brute to call him brutal. We do not deny all this. Notice the cruelties of men towards each other, the jealousies, the envies, the strifes, the warfares. How one class looks down upon and treats with contempt another that is a little lower! How masters have used their slaves; how tyrants like Nero and Caligula have made themselves hideous spectacles of what is possible to humanity, on a stage that is world-wide and illuminated by the flash-lights of history! I do not wish you to suppose for a moment that I belittle, that I underestimate these evils, only we do not need anything other than the scientific and historic facts of the world in order to account for them. What is sin, as science looks at it and treats it? Not something consciously and purposely developed, not something originating in a rebellion in some other world than this. It seems to me that we can very easily account for it when we recognize that man has been gradually coming up from the lower orders of life, and that he still has in him the snake and the hyena, the wolf, the tiger, the bear, all the wild, fierce passions of the animal world only partly sloughed off, not yet outgrown; when you remember how ignorant he is, how he does not understand yet the meaning of these divine laws and the divine life, glimpses of which now and then attract his attention and lure him on; when you remember that selfishness, misguided by ignorance, can believe that one man can get something for his behoof and happiness and good at the expense of the welfare of somebody else, and harm come only to the person that is defrauded. Right in here, if I had time to treat it in still further detail, it seems to me we have a simple and adequate explanation of all the evil that has ever blasted, blighted, and darkened the history of man. Now, man being this kind of a creature, having an animal origin as well as a divine one, gradually climbing up out of this lower life and looking towards God as his ideal, what is it that he needs? Is there any need of atonement? All need of atonement! What does atonement mean? The word itself carries its clearest explanation. In its root it means "atonement," healing the division, whatever its nature or kind, bringing man into one-ness with God and men into one-ness with each other. Now let me suggest to you a little as to the things that keep man and God apart, keep men away from each other; and they will suggest the atonement that is needed to heal all these divisions, and bring about that ideal condition of things that we dream of and pray for and talk about, when men shall perfectly love God, and when they shall love each other as themselves. What is it that keeps man from God? First, it seems to me, it is ignorance. What man needs in order to bring him into oneness with God is first to have some clear conceptions of the divine, some high, sweet, noble thoughts of God, some knowledge of the laws of God as embodied in himself and in the universe around him. Man needs intelligence, then, to help him, needs education. In the next place, he needs such a picture of God as shall; make him seem lovable. You cannot make the human heart love that which seems hateful. The picture of God, as he has been outlined to the world in the past, has repelled the human heart; and I do not wonder. I do not think it strange that humanity should be at enmity with that conception of the divine. Make God the ideal of all that is noble and sweet and lovely, and the heart will be as naturally attracted and drawn to him as a flower is toward the sun. Then man needs to have his spiritual side developed, that in him which is akin to God, so that he shall naturally live out the divine love. Education, then, is all on man's side, you will see. God does not need to be changed: we need to know him, to love him, to come into conscious relationship with him. This is what we need, so far as our relation to God is concerned. Now for the more important side; for it is infinitely the more important practically. Let me speak a little while of the work of atonement between man and man. If we trace the history of humanity, we find that men were scattered in groups all over the world, isolated, separated from each other, ignorant of each other, misunderstanding each other, hating each other, fighting each other; and the work of some other world than this. It seems to me that we can very easily account for it when we recognize that man has been gradually coming up from the lower orders of life, and that he still has in him the snake and the hyena, the wolf, the tiger, the bear, all the wild, fierce passions of the animal world only partly sloughed off, not yet outgrown; when you remember how ignorant he is, how he does not understand yet the meaning of these divine laws and the divine life, glimpses of which now and then attract his attention and lure him on; when you remember that selfishness, misguided by ignorance, can believe that one man can get something for his behoof and happiness and good at the expense of the welfare of somebody else, and harm come only to the person that is defrauded. Right in here, if I had time to treat it in still further detail, it seems to me we have a simple and adequate explanation of all the evil that has ever blasted, blighted, and darkened the history of man. Now, man being this kind of a creature, having an animal origin as well as a divine one, gradually climbing up out of this lower life and looking towards God as his ideal, what is it that he needs? Is there any need of atonement? All need of atonement! What does atonement mean? The word itself carries its clearest explanation. In its root it means "atonement," healing the division, whatever its nature or kind, bringing man into one-ness with God and men into one- ness with each other. Now let me suggest to you a little as to the things that keep man and God apart, keep men away from each other; and they will suggest the atonement that is needed to heal all these divisions, and bring about that ideal condition of things that we dream of and pray for and talk about, when men shall perfectly love God, and when they shall love each other as themselves. What is it that keeps man from God? First, it seems to me, it is ignorance. What man needs in order to bring him into oneness with God is first to have some clear conceptions of the divine, some high, sweet, noble thoughts of God, some knowledge of the laws of God as embodied in himself and in the universe around him. Man needs intelligence, then, to help him, needs education. In the next place, he needs such a picture of God as shall: make him seem lovable. You cannot make the human heart: love that which seems hateful. The picture of God, as he has been outlined to the world in the past, has repelled the human heart; and I do not wonder. I do not think it strange that humanity should be at enmity with that conception of the divine. Make God the ideal of all that is noble and sweet and lovely, and the heart will be as naturally attracted and drawn to him as a flower is toward the sun. Then man needs to have his spiritual side developed, that in him which is akin to God, so that he shall naturally live out the divine love. Education, then, is all on man's side, you will see. God does not need to be changed: we need to know him, to love him, to come into conscious relationship with him. This is what we need, so far as our relation to God is concerned. Now for the more important side; for it is infinitely the more important practically. Let me speak a little while of the work of atonement between man and man. If we trace the history of humanity, we find that men were scattered in groups all over the world, isolated, separated from each other, ignorant of each other, misunderstanding each other, hating each other, fighting each other; and the work of civilization means to bring men together, to work out an atonement between nation and nation, religion and religion, family and family, man and man. Here, again, as in the case of God, the first thing that needs to be overcome is ignorance. Look back no further than our late war. I think every careful student of that tremendous conflict is ready to say to-day that, if the North and South had been acquainted with each other, known each other as they know each other now, the war would have been impossible. We need to know other men. As you go back, you find curious traditions illustrating this ignorance of different nations and different peoples of each other. Plato, for example, taught it as a virtue that the Athenians should hate all other peoples except the Greeks and all other Greek cities except Athens; and they spoke of the outside nations that did not speak Greek as barbarians, people who could not talk, people who, when they essayed to speak, said, "Ba, ba," misusing words and expressions. They had traditions of men who carried their heads under their arms, who had only one eye, which was in the middle of their forehead, all sorts of monstrosities in human shape, antagonistic to the rest of mankind. Even in modern times those ignorances, misconceptions, and prejudices are far from being outgrown. Lord Nelson counted it as a virtue in an Englishman that he should hate a Frenchman as he did the devil. How many people are there to- day who look with an unprejudiced eye upon a foreigner? The things, then, that keep nations apart are ignorance. Then there is the lack of sympathy. You will find people walking side by side here in our streets, people in the same family, who find it impossible to understand each other. They cannot put themselves in the place of another; they cannot comprehend something which is a little different from what they are accustomed to hear; not only cannot they understand it, they cannot lovingly or patiently look at it. Think of the things that have kept people apart in physical and mental and spiritual realms, the rivers, the mountain chains, the oceans; differences of religion, differences of language, differences of civilization; different ethical ideas, until people of the world have sat looking at each other with faces of fear and antagonism instead of with the dawning in their eyes of love and brotherhood. Now what the world needs is something to atone, to bridge over these differences, to bring men into sympathetic and loving acquaintance with each other. I wish to note two or three things that have wrought very largely and effectively in this direction. Does it ever occur to you that commerce is something besides a means for the accumulation of wealth? Commerce has played one of the largest parts in the history of this world in atoning the differences, the antagonisms, between nation and nation and man and man. It has taught the world that there is a community of interests, and that, instead of fighting each other, they are mutually blessed and helped by coworking, co-operating, exchanging with each other. So the inventors, the discoverers, have helped to bring about this sense of human brotherhood, this community of human interests. How much, for example, was wrought when the electric wire was placed under the seas, and, instead of allowing weeks and weeks for a misunderstanding to grow and for ill-feeling to ferment between England and this country, puts us in such quick relations that a misapprehension could be corrected in an hour. All these things have helped bring the world together, are engaged in this magnificent religious service of atonement, of making nations one, making humanity one, a family. I do not wish you to suppose that I misunderstand or underestimate the work of the Christ in this direction. He has done a grander work of atonement than any other figure in the history of the world. He revealed to us the glory, the tenderness, the love, of God, and so lifted the heart of the world towards the Father as no other one man has done who has ever lived. And, then, he lived out and manifested the glory, the tenderness, the wonder, of human character and human life as hardly any other man who has ever lived; and on so world- wide a stage did he do this that the influence of his work has overrun all national barriers, and is rapidly coming to be world-wide, and in admiration of, and love for him, Jew and Greek, and barbarian, Scythian, Arabian, European, and Asiatic, all the nations of the world are becoming one. For no matter what their theory may be about him, whether they hold him to be God or man, they hold the ideal that he set forth and lived to be spiritually human and nobly divine. So Jesus is more and more, as the ages go by, helping us to one-ness with God, helping us into sympathetic one-ness with each other. But I would not have you think that Jesus is the only one who has wrought atonement for the sin of the world. Every man in his degree, in so far as he has been divine and human, patient, faithful, has rendered service to the world, has done his part in bringing about this magnificent consummation. Look for a moment at Abraham Lincoln. Think what he did by the atoning sacrifice of his life for liberty, for humanity, for truth. On the one hand, his murderer showed what sin may come to in its ignorance, its misconception, its antagonism to whatever is right and good and true. And, on the other hand, he, with words of forgiveness on his lips, words of human love, with all tenderness and charity in his heart, illustrated again and lived out the sweetness of divinity and the tenderness of humanity. As another illustration, human, simple, natural, just let me say a word concerning the act, the attitude, of General Grant at Appomattox. He did more at the surrender of Lee to send a thrill of brotherly sympathy through North and South and help wield this nation into one than he could have possibly done by the most magnificent achievement of arms, when he refused to take his opponent's sword; when he let the officers go away with their side-arms; when he told each man that his horse or his mule was still of right his because he would need it to begin the new life again that was before him. Facts like these suggest the naturalness, the humanness, as well as the God-likeness of the work of atonement that is going on all over the world, as it climbs and swings slowly up out of the darkness and into the light of life. Jesus the great atoning sacrifice? Yes, but thousands on thousands of others atoning in just the same divine way, just the same human way, just as naturally, just as necessarily. Every man who does an honest day's work, every man who is kind and loving in his family, every man who is helpful as a neighbor, every man who stands faithfully by his convictions of truth, every man who shows that he cares more for the truth than he does for worldly success, that he knows that in that truth only is immortality, and that it is greater and better and sweeter than even life, every man who consecrates himself in this way is doing his part towards working out the atonement of human sin, the reconciliation of man with God, the reconciliation of men with each other. Let us, then, while loving Jesus, while reverencing him for the grandeur of his work and the beauty of his life, let us rise and claim kinship with him, rise to the dignity and glory of the thought that we are sons of God as he was, and that we may share with him the grandest service that one man can render to his time, the helping of people to find and love and serve God, the helping of people to discover and love and serve each other. The outcome of this atoning work is simply the coming of that time which we speak of familiarly without half comprehending it, when the world shall recognize the universal Fatherhood of God and the universal brotherhood of man. PRAYER, AND COMMUNION WITH GOD SOME years ago I heard a minister, then widely known throughout the country, say in a public address, "Prayer is the power that moves the arm that moves the world." Can we accept that to-day as a definition of a rational view of the relation in which we stand to God? Many of you will remember that not long ago the churches and the scientific men of England and America were much stirred and roused over a discussion concerning the practical efficacy of prayer. There was much talk of what was called the "prayer-gauge." I think it was Professor Tyndall who proposed to test the question as to whether prayer was a real power in the physical world; and his test, if I remember rightly, was something like this. He said: You churchmen claim that prayer is able to heal the sick. Now, he said, let us take a certain hospital. We will divide it, a certain number of wards on one side, and a certain number of wards on the other, equalizing so far as we can the nature of the illnesses which afflict the patients. You now concentrate as much as you please, and as many as you please, the prayers on certain wards in the hospital, and we will commit the rest to the ordinary treatment of the physicians; and we will see if you are able to produce any results. Against a certain type and theory of prayer I suppose a test like that is legitimate enough; and this type, this theory, is the one that has prevailed throughout Christendom largely for a good many hundreds of years. I suppose you can remember in your boyhood some of you are as old as I that it was not an uncommon thing for the minister to pray earnestly for certain things that intelligent men would hardly think of praying for in the same fashion to-day. It was not an uncommon thing, a few years ago, to have a special prayer- meeting during a drought in the endeavor to prevail upon God to send the rain; and there was certainly a Scriptural warrant for it; for Elijah is represented in the Old Testament as having, by the power of prayer, shut up the heavens for three years and a half, and then as bringing rain again as the result of his petition. If you study the Book of James, and remember, when you do study it, that it was not written by the apostle, but by some unknown author towards the middle of the second century, you will see that he teaches that, if any one is sick, you are not to send for a physician. The brethren are to assemble, the invalid is to be anointed with oil, they are to pray over him, and the explicit and unqualified promise is given that the prayer of faith shall save the sick. And yet we have been confronted for ages with the spectacle of people breaking their hearts in pleading prayer for those that were sick, and seeing them fade and vanish from their sight in spite of their petitions. I have heard it said a good many times that the fame of the Cunard line of steamships touching the matter of the safety of its passengers was to be explained by the piety of the founders of the line, and the fact that they prayed every time a ship sailed that it might safely cross the seas and land its passengers without accident in the wished-for haven. Are there no prayers for other lines? Has no one ever prayed on behalf of a ship that did meet with an accident? But this would be explained on this theory by saying that the prayer was not the prayer of faith or that there was some defect in it somewhere. I refer to these things simply by way of illustration to recall to your mind that prayer used to be supposed to be a power touching the winds, the waves, the prosperity of the crops, insuring safety during a dangerous journey; that it was a power that was able to heal disease, that could accomplish all sorts of strange and startling effects in the physical realm. And now I simply wish to call your attention to the naturalness of that kind of prayer in the olden time. To some of us this thought may seem strange, it may seem almost absurd, to-day; but remember it was not strange, it was not absurd, in the times when the old theory of the universe was thoroughly believed in, not only by church members, but by scientific men as well. What was that old conception? I have had occasion to refer to it in one connection or another a good many times; and now I shall have to refer to it again, so that you may clearly see what is involved in this question of the efficacy of prayer. God was supposed to be up in heaven, away from nature. Nature was a sort of mechanism, a machine that ordinarily ran on after its own fashion. God had made it, indeed, in some sense, God supported it continually; but it went on apart from him, and he was away from it. He was, as Carlyle used to say, looked upon as an absentee God. He was up in heaven. He ruled this world as the Kaiser rules Germany, arbitrarily. He was not even always supposed to know everything that was going on, at least, if you are to judge by the tone of the prayers of a good many people such as I have heard. He needed information concerning matters. He needed to be pleaded with, that he might interfere and accomplish some results that would not otherwise take place. He ruled the world arbitrarily and from a distance. Now, if any German wishes a certain thing accomplished that would not happen in the ordinary course of nature and human life, he knows that the Kaiser has almost unlimited power; and, if he can persuade him to undertake it, it may be accomplished. So he will send a petition to the Kaiser; and he will back that petition with all the influence that he is able to bring to bear upon it. If there is a prime minister who stands specially high in favor with the Kaiser, do you not see how much might be accomplished by winning his ear, and getting him to intercede on behalf of the petitioner? Do you not see right in there the parallel to the old idea that used to dominate us in regard to the government of the universe? If only we could get God interested in the matter, if we could bring to bear upon him an adequate amount of influence, if we could get Jesus to intercede with him, then something might be accomplished. Are these antiquated ideas? I received a letter only a little while ago. It told me nothing new; but it came to me with a shock, roused me to a recognition of ideas still dominant and popular in the common mind. It was from a Catholic. He said: We do not worship Mary; but she is in the spirit world, and she is in sympathetic relation with this world's sorrow and trouble. We pray to her, asking her to intercede with her son, because a mother's influence is efficacious. Think for a moment of the implications of this theory of governing the universe. God is away off, has forgotten us, or does not care, at any rate, is not doing for us the things we need. If we can get Jesus to intercede! But, according to this Catholic theory, Jesus had perhaps forgotten or was not attentive. So he pleads with his mother, and gets the mother to exert her influence on Jesus so he may exert his influence on God, and at last something may be done. I confess to you, friends, that this theory of things does not seem piety to me, but the precise opposite. I ask you now to follow me while I attempt to point out some of the difficulties that confront us in this old-time theory of prayer. Why is it that we cannot pray to God to change the order of the natural world? Why cannot we believe that prayer is the power that moves the arm that moves the world??? Why cannot I consistently pray to God to heal my disease or the disease of a friend, or to save the soul of some friend who would otherwise be neglected by the divine care? Why cannot I any longer pray to God to send his light and truth to the heathen world? Why cannot I pray to him to insure my safety in mid-Atlantic, to do something to prevent my colliding with a derelict, as the Van-dam has done during the last few days? Do you think there was no one on that ship that prayed? What is the difficulty in the mind of the intelligent, modern thinker when he faces this conception of prayer? Let us think a little clearly just a moment; and I imagine I can make it plain. We no longer think of God we cannot think of him as outside the system of nature, and as possibly interfering with it to produce a result that would not otherwise take place. Why? Because God is the soul, the mind, the heart of nature. The forces of the universe, acting according to their changeless and eternal laws, are simply God at work. And, when I pray to God to interfere, I am praying him to interfere with himself, I am praying him to contradict his own wisely and eternally and changelessly established methods of controlling the world. The question is sometimes asked, but a man can interfere with the course of nature, and produce a result that would not be naturally produced without it? Certainly, because man does not stand in this relation to natural forces. But man, however, does not change any law, he does not interfere with any law. He simply discovers some law and obeys it, and in that way produces a result that would not otherwise be produced. But man does not stand, I say, in this vital relation to the forces of the universe and their laws. When you remember that these forces working, as I said, changelessly, eternally, after their methods, when you remember that these are God in his ceaseless and wise and loving activity, then do you not see that he cannot contradict or interfere with himself? Here is the great difficulty in regard to this old method, this old conception of prayer which confronts the intelligent, the educated, the thoughtfully devout man. When I was first struggling out into the light? as it seems to me now from my old theological training, I met another difficulty that I think will appeal to you. It seemed to me an impertinence for me to be telling God, as I heard so many people on every hand, all sorts of things that he knew before. I reconsidered the words of Jesus, You are not to give yourself to much speaking in your prayers, for your Father knoweth what you have need of before you ask him. And then there was another difficulty which troubled me more than any of the others, a delightful, splendid difficulty it has seemed to me since those days. It was connected with the thought of God's goodness and love. There are heathen, they tell us, who have got a glimpse, from their point of view, of this fact about God. It is said they do not bring any offerings, except some flowers, to the deities they regard as good, because, they say, they do not need to be persuaded. They bring all their costly offerings to the bad gods, the ones they are afraid of; and they attempt to buy their favor or buy off their anger. When I waked up to the free and grand conception of the eternal love and the boundless goodness of the Father, then it seemed to me that many of my prayers in the past had been so far from reasonable that they were absurd, and so far from piety that they were wrong. To illustrate what I mean. When I was minister of an orthodox church in the West, a lovely, faithful lady came to me to raise some question touching this matter of prayer. It had been suggested, I suppose, by something I had said; and I asked her this question: What would you think of me if I should come to you, and with pathos in my voice, and perhaps with tears in my eyes, plead with you to be kind to your own children, beg you to give them something to eat, beseech you to furnish them with clothes, entreat you to educate them, to do the best for them that you knew how? What would you think of it? I asked. She said, I should feel insulted. And I replied, Do you not think that God is almost as good as you are? If you are anxious and ready, do you think that God needs to be pleaded with and entreated and besought in order to make him willing, in order to make him kind, in order to bring some sort of pressure to bear upon him so that he will do the things for his children of which they most stand in need? No scientific difficulty, no question of theories of the universe, has ever affected my practice in the matter of prayer so much as this overwhelming, blessed thought of the loving-kindness and care of the infinite Father. He does not need to be informed, he does not need to be persuaded. Has not Jesus told us that your heavenly Father is more ready to give the things which you need than you are to give good gifts to your children? And so I came to have a difficulty with the kind of prayer- meetings in which I was brought up as a boy, and which I used to lead as a young and earnest minister. I have heard kinds of prayers which have seemed to me reflections on the goodness and the kindness of our Father in heaven. I remember one man I used to hear him over and over again, week by week who would pray, It is time for thee, O God, to work! And, as I came to think of it, it hurt my sense of reverence. I shrank from it. And I could not believe that God was going to let thousands of souls in China or Africa perish merely because Christians in America did not pray hard enough and long enough for their salvation. Why should they meet with eternal doom on account of the lack of enthusiasm or devotion of people of whom they have never heard? So I used to find myself troubled about this question of praying so hard for the salvation of other people's souls. If, as the old creeds tell us, it is settled from all eternity as to just who is to be saved and who is to be lost, there would hardly seem place for a vital prayer; and if, as a friend of mine, a minister, and a very liberal and broad one, though in one of the older churches, said to me, "I believe that God will save every single soul that he can save," then do you not see again that it touches this kind of prayer? If he cannot save them, then why should I beg him to do it? If he can, and loves them better than I do, again, why should I plead with him after that fashion to do it? These, frankly and freely spoken, are some of the difficulties connected with a certain theory of prayer. I gladly put all that now behind my back, and come to the grand and positive side of my theme. I wish to tell you what I myself believe in regard to this matter of prayer. And, in the first place, let me suggest to you that prayers, even the prayers of the past, any of them, the most objectionable types, are not made up only of petition; they are not all begging, teasing for things. There enter into their composition gratitude, adoration, reverence, aspiration, a sense of communion with the spiritual Being, a longing for higher and finer things; a sense of refuge in time of trouble, a sense of strength in time of need, a sense of hope, uplift, and outlook as we glance towards the future. A prayer, then, you see, is a very composite thing, not a simple thing, not merely made up of the element of pleading with God to give us certain things that we cannot come into possession of by ordinary means. Right here let me stop long enough to ask you to attend a little carefully to the teaching of Jesus on the subject of prayer. You will see he chimes in almost perfectly with the things I have been saying. If we followed his directions literally, we should never pray in public at all. He says, Enter into your chamber, and shut to the door, and commune with the Father in secret. He does not advocate long prayers, nor this kind of pleading, begging prayers that I have referred to. Do you remember the story of the unjust judge? Jesus tells this parable on purpose to enforce the point I have been speaking of. He says: Here is an unjust judge: a widow brings her case before him. She pleads with him until she tires him out; and at last he says, although I am an unjust judge, and fear neither God nor men, because with her continual praying she wearies me, I will grant her petition. Jesus does not say you are to weary God out in order to get your petitions granted, but just the opposite. How much more shall God give good gifts unto those that ask him Read once more that other story of the man who rises at night and goes to a neighbor for assistance. The neighbor, for the sake of being gracious and kind, will rise, although it gives him trouble and he does not wish to, and grant his request. But God is not like that neighbor: he does not need to be wearied or roused to make him care for our interests. This is the teaching, you will notice, of Jesus. If there is anything that appears like contrary teaching, you will find it in the supposed Gospel of John, written by an anonymous author, in which quite different doctrines are taught in regard to a good many things from those that are reported of Jesus in the other gospels. Now I wish to come to my own personal position concerning the subject of prayer. It is fitting is it not that we should open our hearts with gratitude to God, no matter what has come to us of good or bright, of beautiful, sweet and true things, no matter through what channel, by the ministry of what friend, as the result of the working of no matter how many natural forces. Trace it to its source, and that source is always of necessity the one fountain, the one eternal Giver. And, if there be no more than courtesy in our hearts, ought it not to be easy and fitting for us to think, at least, if we do not say, Thank you, Father? Not only thanksgiving, but adoration. Any uplook to something beautiful and high and fine above you partakes of the nature of worship. So that prayer which is worship, is it not altogether fitting and sweet and true? Only as we look up do we ever rise up, do we ever attain to anything finer and better. And then there is communion. Is it true that God is Spirit, and that he is Father of his children, also spirit? Are we made in his likeness? Is there community of nature between him and us? I believe that he is human in all essential qualities, and that we are divine in all essential qualities. I believe the only difference between God and man is a difference not of kind, but of degree, and that there is, possibility of constant interchange of thought, of feeling, communion, between God and his children. Profound, wonderful truth it seems to me is expressed in those beautiful words of Tennyson's: "Speak to him thou, for he hears, And spirit with spirit may meet. Closer is he than breathing, And nearer than hands and feet." Communion then possible, the very life of that which is divine within us! Then I do not believe for one moment that prayer is only a sort of spiritual gymnastics, that it produces results in us merely by the exercise of spiritual feelings and emotions. I believe that in the moral and spiritual realms prayer does produce actual results that would not be produced in any other way. This, however, mark you carefully, not by producing any change in God, only changing our relations towards God. Can I illustrate it? I have a flower, for example, a plant in a flower-pot in my room. It seems to be perishing for the lack of something. It may be that the elements in the air do not properly feed it: it may be that it is hungry for light. At any rate, I try it: I take it out into the sunshine, I let the air breathe upon it, the dews fall upon it, the rains touch it and revive it and the plant brightens up, grows, blossoms, becomes beautiful and fragrant. Have I changed natural laws any? Not to one parunticle. I have changed the relation of my plant and the air; and I have produced a result of life and beauty where would have been ugliness and death. So I believe in prayer in that sense, that it may and does change the spiritual attitude of the soul towards God so that we come into entirely new relations with him, and the spiritual life in us grows, unfolds, becomes beautiful and sweet, not because we have changed God, but because we have got into a new set of relations with him. If I thought that I could change God by a prayer, that I could interfere in the slightest degree with the working of any of the natural forces, I would never dare to open my lips in prayer again so long as I live. We do not need to change God: we need simply to change our attitude towards him, change our relations to him. Is not this true in every department of human life? How is it that you produce results anywhere? You wish a mountain stream to work for you. Do you change the laws of motion? You adapt your machinery to those laws of motion, and all the power of God becomes yours. You do not change him, you change yourself, your attitude towards him. And so in every one of the discoveries, in every one of the revolutions, that have come to the world, simply by discovering God's methods, and humbly adapting our ways to those methods Thus the forces of God, which are changeless and eternal, produce for us results which they would not have produced but for adapting our lives to the working of their ways. A great many people do not think they ever pray. I have never seen a man yet who did not pray. You cannot live, and not pray: you cannot escape it if you try. Take Montgomery's famous old definition, "Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed, The motion of a hidden fir That trembles in the breast." Soul's sincere desire. Yes, the body's desire, the mind's desire, the heart's desire, any desire, any outreach of life, is a prayer, an appeal for something that only the universe, that only God, can bestow. So, no matter whether you think you are religious or not, you are a praying man so long as you are a living man; and you cannot escape the fact if you try. It is merely a question whether you are a loving praying man or some other kind. There is another aspect of prayer to which I wish to call your attention. Prayer is the refuge of a soul in trouble. It does not mean here, again, that you change God any. Can you not understand what it means to go to God, as it were, and fling yourself, like a child, against his breast and feel yourself folded in the everlasting arms? Your sorrow may not be removed, the burden may not be taken away, the life of your friend may not be saved, the sickness may not be healed; but there is comfort, there is strength, there is peace, there is help. Why, even in our human life do you not know how it is? You go to some friend you trust and love with your trouble. Perhaps he cannot lift it with one of his fingers; but he can tell you that he loves you, he cares, he would help you if only he were able. He can put his arm around you, he can say, God bless you; and you are stronger. You go away with lifted shoulder and with head that fronts the heavens; and you are able to bear the burden. Is there nothing akin to this in the sense of coming into intimate relations with the eternal Father, when troubled, pressed, when the outside world is dark, and feeling that here is refuge in a love deeper, higher, unspeakably more tender than that of the dearest friend that ever lived? And this suggests another point. I have no doubt that sometimes, in my attempts to lead the devotions of this congregation, I use words which, if I were to sit down and critically analyze, I could not logically justify. I do not mean to; but, perhaps, sometimes I do. What of it? When my children were small, and my little boy came and climbed up in my lap and expressed himself in all sorts of illogical and foolish ways, telling me every sort of thing he wanted, impossible things, unwise things, things I could not get for him, things I would not get if I could, because I thought myself wiser than he, did these things trouble me? I loved to have him pour out his whole little soul into mine, because he was my child and because I did not expect him to be over-wise. It was this simple touch of kinship, this simple communion of father and child, which was sweet and tender and true. So I believe with my whole soul that God loves us, his little children, with an unspeakable tenderness, a tenderness infinitely beyond that with which any earthly father ever loved a child, and that we can go to him freely and pour out our hearts, whether it is wise in expression or unwise; only let us do it with the feeling, "Not my will, Father, but Thine, be done," not as though we were trying to persuade him to do things for us that he would not otherwise do, but merely as the pouring out of our gratitude, our tenderness, our love. There is another thing that needs just a word of suggestion. I believe that we ought to pray to God, not in the sense of begging for things, but sympathetically bringing in the arms of our sympathy all those we love and all those we hate, if there are any, and all things that live on the face of the earth. There is a hint of what I mean in those beautiful words of Tennyson's: "For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands in prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God." Let us reach out our arms of sympathy to all the world and bring the world sympathetically into the presence of our Father. So our own hearts and loves will broaden, until they, too, are divine. And, then, there is one other thing. What a strength prayer has been to the grandest souls of the ages! Never was truer, finer truth written than those magnificent words of Isaiah: "Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint!" Take Jesus in his hour of agony, take Savonarola with his struggle, take Huss, Wyclif, Luther, take all the grand souls of the ages when they have simply stood with the feeling, One with God is a majority, and ready to face the world, if need be, in the conviction that they spoke for and represented the truth. The times of which Lowell speaks: "Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne, Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, behind the dim unknown, Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own." This sense that God is for the truth and right, and, if you are standing for the truth and right, the Almighty Power is backing you up, the ground you stand on impregnable, because of that position. You do not expect God to work miracles, you do not expect him to do anything; but simply the sense that you are in his presence, that you are on his side, re- enforces you more than a thousand men could re-enforce an army in the time of its need. This is the great sense of surety that the poet Clough had in mind, when he wrote those wonderfully fine words: "It fortifies my soul to know That, though I perish, Truth is so; That howsoe'er I stray or range, Whate'er I do, thou dost not change. I steadier step when I recall That, if I slip, thou dost not fall." Here is the confidence, the strength, that comes from prayer, from communion with God, from the sense of being in his presence, from a feeling of fellowship with the Divine. The truest and finest, the sweetest prayer must come oft of the loving, the sympathetic, the tender soul. No selfish prayer can expect to enter into the heart of God. You will note in the words that Jesus teaches his disciples, it is not "My" Father, it is "Our" Father. And, if we wish to pray in the divine spirit, we shall broaden that "Our" until it includes not only our family, our church, our city, our State, our nation, our humanity, but until it includes all life that swims or walks or flies, feeling that it is the one life of the Father that is in us all. For, as Coleridge has finely put it, He prayeth best who loveth best All things, both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all. THE WORSHIP OF GOD THERE are those who in religious matters, as well as in all other departments of life, are content to walk unquestioningly the path which the footsteps of previous generations have made easy and familiar. But there are others and these among the more thoughtful and earnest minds to whom it is not enough to utter earnest words concerning enthusiasm and devotion, consecration and worship. These spiritual attitudes and exercises must first be made to appear reasonable to them, fitting, fitting to their conception of God, fitting to their ideas of that which is highest and finest in man. So there are many things that pass to-day as forms of worship, many ideas connected with worship, which this class of minds cannot heartily and fully accept. Some of them do not seem to them fitting, as they look upward towards God. They cannot, for example, believe that God cares for flattery, cares to sit on his throne, and be told by his creatures how great and how wonderful he is. They cannot think that he cares to have presents brought to him, gifts offered on his altar, as men say. They cannot believe that he really is anxious for many of these external forms and ceremonies, which seem to the onlooker to constitute the essential element of much that passes as popular worship. And then, on the other hand, man has grown into a sense of dignity. He has a higher and loftier idea of his own nature and of what is fitting to a man; and he cannot any longer heartily enter into the meaning of words which speak of him as a worm of the dust, which seem to him to intimate that God cares to have him prostrate himself in utter humiliation, to speak of himself always as a miserable sinner, as one without any good in him. Many of these things from the point of view of the man himself no longer constitute the real conviction, the real feeling of the noblest hearts; and so there are many who are troubled over this question of worship, who are not quite sure as to how much spiritual significance it may any longer retain, not quite sure as to how vital a part it may play in the development of the religious life of man. We find an adequate and perfectly natural explanation of some of these phases of worship that trouble us to-day, as we look back and note some of the steps in the religious development of the race. I shall not raise the question as to how or where or in what way the act of human worship began. I will simply say that one of the first manifestations of that which came to be religious worship which we are able to trace at the present time is to be found in the burial-mounds of the dead. Men reverenced the memory of the chief of the tribe who had passed into the invisible. They did not believe that he had ceased to exist: they rather looked upon him as having become, because invisible, a higher ruler. They thought of him as still interested in the welfare of the tribe, still its guardian, still its avenger, still demanding of the tribe the same reverence that it paid to him while he was yet alive; and his followers clothed him with all the human attributes with which they were familiar during the time he was among them. He was still hungry, he was still thirsty, he still wanted his old-time weapons, all those things he was familiar with during his earthly career. And so they brought food, and laid it on the burial-mound above his body; and they poured out their libations of drink to quench his spiritual thirst. These were very real beliefs on the part of man universally during a certain stage of his mental, his moral, his spiritual growth. It was a very natural step beyond this to the origin of sacrifices. All sacrifice began right here. It was a religious meal, in which God and his worshippers equally shared. Some animal, supposed to partake of a life similar to that which distinguished the god and the worshipper, too, is sacrificed. It is cooked, and the worshippers partake of the meal; and they fully believe that the god joins in it also. And then the drink they partake of, and pour out their libation for the invisible spirit. So the first sacrifice was a meal eaten together; and just as, for example, to-day you see a remnant of this idea when a man eats with an Arab, although the Arab may discover five minutes after that it was his bitterest foe, he finds himself at least during a little time bound to amity and peace by the fact that they have shared this sacred meal together, so in the act of sacrifice it was believed that the worshipper consecrated himself in loyalty to his God, and that the God consecrated himself in faithfulness to his worshippers as their guardian and protector. Here is given the central significance of sacrifices that have made so large a part of the religious ceremonial of the world. These are not peculiar to what we call pagan people. Do you remember the story of how, after the flood, Noah offers a sacrifice, and God up in heaven is represented as smelling the flavor of the burning meat and as rejoicing in it, accepting the offering, and pledging himself to guard and care for his worshippers? Do you remember, also, that story of Jacob, how, when he is on his journey, he falls asleep, and has his wonderful dream, and sees the ladder starting at his feet and ending at the throne of God, up and down which the angels are passing? When he wakes in the morning, he says, "Surely, this is holy ground"; and he takes the stone on which he slept, and sets it up as an altar, and pours out the sacred oil as an offering to his God. All the way through the Old Testament, in the history of the Hebrew people, you trace these same ideas that you find in the life of almost all the other nations of the world. It was only a step beyond this to the idea of presenting gifts to God, no matter what the nature of that gift might be. And, as men came to make him these sacred offerings, they came also to believe and in the most natural way in the world that, the more costly the gift, the more likely it was to be accepted on the part of its sublime recipient. So human sacrifices arose; for there could be no more sacred gift than for a man to offer his own child or his own wife to God. The gods were looked upon as sometimes demanding these tremendous sacrifices as the conditions of their mercy or their care. I refer you for illustration to one of the most striking and touching of Tennyson's poems. I think it is entitled "The Victim." There had been famine in the land, and the priests have announced that they have learned that the gods demand as an offering that which is most sacred and most dear to the heart of the king; and the question is as to whether it is his son, his boy, or his wife. They think it must be the boy, because he was the one that would continue the kingly line; but the wife detects the gladness of her husband when he sees that the boy is to be selected, and knows by that sense of relief that passes over his face that the priests have made a mistake, and that she herself is to be the victim. And so, in her love for him and for the people, she rushes upon the sacrificial knife. All these ideas, you see, are perfectly natural in certain stages of human development, logically reasoned out in view of their thought of the gods and of their relations to them and of what these gods must desire at their hands. It is not only among the very early beliefs that you find these ideas controlling the thought and action of men. Study the ancient classical times as they are reflected in the Iliad, in the Odyssey, or in Virgil's Aeneid, and you will find that the gods were very human in all their feelings, their thoughts, their passions. As, in the Old Testament, Yahweh is reported to have been a jealous God, not willing that respect should be paid to anybody but himself, so you find the old Greek and Roman deities very jealous as to what were regarded as their rights, as to what the people must pay to them; and, if they are angry, they can be appeased if an offering rare and costly enough be brought by the worshipper. You can buy their favor; you can ward off their anger, if only you can offer them something which is precious enough so that they are ready to accept it at the worshipper's hands. These are not merely Old Testament ideas, nor only pagan ideas. Some years ago, when I was in Rome, I visited among others one of the many churches dedicated to Mary under one name or another; and there was a statue of the Virgin by the altar, and it impressed me very much to see that it was loaded down with gifts. Every place on the statue itself to which anything could be attached, anything on the altar around it, was weighted down with gold chains, with jewels, with precious gifts of every kind. These had been brought as thank-offerings, expressions of worship, or pledges connected with a petition, because I have brought thee this gift, have mercy, do this for me which I need. So these old ideas are vital still, and live on in the modern world. And yet modern and magnificent are those utterances of the old Hebrew prophet, who had so completely outgrown the common customs even of his time, when he represents God as saying that he is weary of all these external offerings. He says: I do not want the cattle brought to my temples. Those that wander on a thousand hills are already mine. If I were hungry, I would not ask thee. He does not want the rivers of oil poured out. What does he want? The old prophet says, What doth the Lord require of thee but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God? And some of the later writers caught a glimpse of the same spiritual truth when they said, Not burnt- offerings, not calves of a year old; when they cry out, Shall I bring the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? No, it is a broken and contrite heart, a heart sorry for its sin, a heart consecrating itself to righteousness and truth, this inner, spiritual worship. The prophets, you see, were climbing up to that magnificent ideal so finely set up by Jesus as reported in the Gospel from which I read our lesson this morning. They had not only believed that God was to be worshipped after these external fashions, but that there was some special place, not only where it was easier to think of him, but where he demanded the offering should be brought. He said to the woman at the well: You think it is Mount Gerizim where the people ought to worship, and the Jews think it is Mount Moriah; but I say unto you that neither in this mountain nor yet at Jerusalem shall men worship the Father. God is spirit, the universal spirit, every place a temple, every spot hallowed, if only those that worship him do so in spirit and in truth. You see, then, how up these stairways of gradual approach the human race, in the person of its highest and finest representatives, has climbed, how near it has come to the spiritual ideal of God and the spiritual thought of that which he requires at our hands. Is worship, then, so far as external form is concerned, to pass away? By no manner of means, as I think. As you analyze any one of these old primitive acts of worship, no matter how crude, no matter how cruel, how bloody, how repulsive it may be to-day from the outlook of our higher civilization, you will note that it has in it an element which, I believe, is permanent, and can never be outgrown. Whatever else there is, there is always the sense of a Presence, Invisible, mighty, high, and, from the point of view of the worshipper, holy and set apart. There is always the feeling of being in the shadow of the high and lofty One who inhabiteth eternity. There is always the sense of uplooking, of worship, in the higher sense of that term. Always, at any rate, the germ of these; and this, it seems to me, we may be sure and certain, however it may clothe itself in the future, shall never pass away. I wish now, if there are any who think it is not befitting the greatness, the nobleness of man that he should bow himself in the presence of the highest, humiliate himself, if you choose to use that term, in acts of worship, I wish now, I say, to consider worship under two or three aspects, and see what it means. And, in the first place, I ask you to note that the ability to worship is always the measure of the rank of a being, it is the test and the standard of greatness. As you look over the animal world, which one of them are we accustomed to think of as coming the nearest to man? What one do we love to have most with us, to associate most with our joys, with the peace of our homes? Is it not the dog? And as you examine the dog, study carefully his nature and characteristics, do you not note that there is in his nature a hint, a suggestion, of that which is the root of all worship? The dog is the one animal with which man is accustomed familiarly to associate himself, who looks up with an incipient reverence, love, almost worship, to his master. And it is this quality in the dog that enables him to look up, and, however dimly, feel the life of some one that is above him, that lifts him into our society, and makes us feel this tenderness of heart-kinship with that which is finest in his nature. And man is man simply because he is able to look above himself. The old Greeks had an anticipation of that idea when they called man anthropos; for the meaning of the word is the upward-looker. As in imagination you go back and down to the time when man first appeared, developed from the lower life which preceded him, the first thing you can think about him as human is the opening of his eyes in wonder, the lifting of his face in curiosity and question, and the birth of adoration in his soul. This is that which made him man. You go and study the lowest type of barbaric life to-day; and you will find that the barbarian has very little curiosity as compared with the civilized man. You will find that it is very difficult to astonish him with anything. He does not wonder. He takes everything for granted. He does not see clearly and deeply enough to appreciate the marvel. Let me illustrate from a specimen of barbaric life itself. A few years ago the chief of an Indian tribe was brought from the plains of the West to visit Washington. The idea was to impress him as much as possible with the idea of our civilization, so that he might report it to his people when he went home. After they had crossed the Mississippi on their way to the West, the gentleman in whose care he was travelling asked the chief what the one thing which he had seen during his trip was which had impressed him the most; and he said at once the St. Louis bridge. But his companion said, Are you not astonished at the Capitol of Washington? "Yes," he said, "but my people can pile stones on top of each other; but they cannot make a cobweb of steel hang in the air." You see how that perception lifted him above the average level of his people? He was showing his capacity for higher and nobler civilization. It is just this ability in the man to wonder, to see something to wonder at, to worship, to admire, which lifts him one grade higher than that of the average level of his tribe. So that which makes man a man is the capacity in him to admire. All admiration is the essence, the root, of worship. And, the more things a man admires, the greater and nobler type of man he is seen to be. If he can admire music, if he can admire painting, if he can admire sculpture, if he can admire poetry, if he can admire literature of every kind, if he can admire grand architecture, the beautiful monuments of the world, we say, Here is a large, all-round type of man. We estimate his dignity, his greatness, by the capacity that he shows for worship in its lower type; for worship is simply looking up with admiration. There is another quality about this worship that I wish to speak of. It is the power that is capable of transforming a man, making him over into the likeness of that which he admires. You find the man without this capacity, and you know it is hopeless to appeal to him, hopeless to set up ideals, hopeless to place before him enticing examples. There is nothing in him to which these things appeal. Take Alexander the Great. It is said he carried around with him a copy of the Iliad, and that Achilles was his ideal of a hero. Do you not see how this admiration transformed the life of the young king, and made him after the type of that which he admired? It does not make any difference what this special admiration may be. Let a man admire Beethoven, and he will cultivate instinctively the qualities that make the beauty and greatness of Beethoven's character and the wonders of his career. This ideal may be in a book, it may be embodied in fiction. I have liked always, either on the walls of my room or on the walls of my heart, to have certain portraits of persons whom I have loved, who are no longer living; and they are to me constant stimulus. They speak to me by day, and in my dreams at night their eyes follow me, and seem to look into my soul; and in their presence I could not do a mean, an unmanly thing. I love, I reverence, I worship these lofty ideals. And the quality of these characters filters down through and permeates the thought and the life. You remember how the other aspect of this thought is illustrated by Shakspere. He says, "My nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand." If that with which you keep company, that you admire, is below you, it degrades; if it is above you, it lifts. In any case you are transformed, shaped into the likeness of that which you admire. There is another aspect of this close akin to that which I have just been dealing with. It is only the worshipper who has in him any promise, any possibility, of growth. Whether it is the individual or the nation, it makes no difference. If you find no capacity to admire that which is above and beyond you, then there is no hope of progress. Take the young man who thinks he has exhausted the possibilities of the world, who has reached the stage, who prides himself on not being surprised, not being over whelmed, not admiring anything. The careful outside observer knows that, instead of having exhausted the possibilities and greatness and wonders of the universe, he has simply exhausted himself. The man who knows how full the world is of that which is beautiful and great and true and noble walks through the universe with his head bared and bowed, and feels, as did Moses when standing in the presence of the burning bush, that he ought to take off his shoes from his feet, for the place where he is standing is holy ground. Wherever you are standing in this universe, which is full of God from star to dust particle, is holy ground; and, if you do not feel it, if you are not touched, if you are not bowed, if you are not thrilled with wonder, it is defect in you, and not lack of God. If the musician admires his great predecessors and strives to emulate them; if the painter in the presence of the Sistine Madonna feels lifted and touched, so that he never can be content with poor work again; if the sculptor is ready to bend his knees in the presence of the Venus of Melos, as he sees her standing at the end of the long gallery in the Louvre; if the lover of his kind admires John Howard, and can never be content unless he is doing something for his fellow- men again; if we can be touched by lives like Clara Barton's, like Florence Nightingale's, like Dorothea Dix's, like the great and consecrated ones of the earth; if in any department of life we can be lifted, humbled, thrilled, at the same time with the thought of the greatness and glory and beauty that are above and beyond us, then there is hope of growth, then there is life that can come to something fine and noble in the future. I wish, in the light of these illustrations of what worship means, to note the thought that a great many men conscientious, earnest, simple who have never been accustomed to think of themselves as religious, and perhaps would deny it if a friend suggested to them that they had in them the possibilities of worship, that perhaps they are worshippers, even if they know it not. A great many persons have thrown away the common ideals of worship, and perhaps have settled down to the idea that they are not worshippers at all, while all the time the substance and the beauty and the glory of worship are in their daily lives and always in their hearts. I want to suggest two or three grades of worship, to show that this worship climbs; and I want to call attention to the fact that on the lowest grade it is worship of God just the same as on the highest, that all worship or admiration for truth, for beauty, for good, wherever, however, manifested, is really worship of God, whether we think of it or call it by that name or not, because they all are manifestations of God. Take the man who is touched and lifted by natural beauty, the sense of natural power; the man who loves the woods, who turns and stands to see the glory of a sunset, who is lifted by tides of emotion as he hears the surf beat on the shore, who feels bowed in the presence of the wide night sky of stars, who is humbled at the same time that he is uplifted in the presence of the mountains, who is touched by all natural scenes of beauty and peace and glory. Are not these men in their degree worshippers? Take the feeling that is expressed in those beautiful lines of Byron. We do not think of Byron as a religious nature, but certainly he had in him the heart of worship when he could write such thoughts as these: "'Tis midnight. On the mountains brown The cold, round moon shines deeply down; Blue roll the waters; blue the sky Seems like an ocean hung on high, Bespangled with those isles of light, So wildly, spiritually bright. Whoever looked upon them shining And turned to earth without repining, Nor wished for wings to flee away And mix with their eternal ray?" And Wordsworth says he feels a Presence that "Disturbs him with the joy of elevated thought, A sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused." And so you may run all through the poets, these simply as hints, specimens, every one of them worshippers, touched by the beauty, glory, uplift of the natural world. And then pass to the next stage, and come to the worship of the human, to the admiration of the highest and finest qualities that are manifested in the lives of men and women. Who is there that is not touched and thrilled by some story of heroic action, of heroic self- sacrifice, of consecration to duty in the face of danger and death? And no matter what this manifestation of human goodness may be, if you can be thrilled by it and lifted by it, then you have taken another step up this ladder of worship which leads you into the very presence chamber of the Divine. Let a boy read the life of Lincoln, see his earnest thirst for knowledge, the sacrifice he was willing to pay for it, his consecration to his ideals of truth, the transparent honesty of the man, the supreme contempt with which he could look down upon anything poor or mean or low, the firmness and simplicity with which he assumes high office, the faithfulness, the unassuming devotion, that he carries into the fulfilment of the trust. Take him all the way through, study his character and admire, and you are a worshipper of that which is divine. So in the case of Jesus, the supreme soul of history in its consecration to the Father, its simple trust in the divine love, its superiority to fear, to question, to death. When we bow ourselves in the presence of the Nazarene, we are not worshipping another God. We are worshipping his Father and our Father as lie shines in the face of Jesus, as he illumines and beautifies his life, as he makes glorious the humble pathways of Galilee, and so casts a reflected glory over the humblest pathways any of us may be called upon to tread. The next step in our ascent brings us to the conscious worship of God himself. We cannot grasp the divine idea. The finite cannot measure or outline the infinite; and so, when we say God, we mean only the grandest ideal that we can frame, that reaches on towards, but can never adequately express the Deity. And so we worship this thought, this ideal, growing as our capacity develops, advancing as the race advances, and ever leading us Godward, as when we follow a ray of light we are travelling towards its source. And the attitude of our souls in the presence of this which is divine is truest worship. The humility of it, the exaltation of it, is beautifully phrased in two or three lines which I wish to repeat to you from Browning's Saul: "I but open my eyes, and perfection, no more and no less, In the kind I imagined, full-fronts me, and God is seen God In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the soul and the clod. And, thus looking within and around me, I ever renew (With that stoop of the soul which in bending upraises it, too), As by each new obeisance in spirit I climb to his feet!" Here is the significance of the thought I had in mind at the opening. We talk about humbling ourselves. When we can bend with reverence in the presence of that which is above us, the very bending is exaltation; for it indicates the capacity to appreciate, to admire, to adore. Thus we climb up into the ability to worship God, the infinite Spirit, our Father, in spirit and in truth. Now to raise one moment the question suggested near the opening, Are forms of worship to pass away? The reply to this seems to me perfectly clear. Those forms which sprang out of and are fitted to only lower ideals of worship, ideals which humanity outgrows, these must be left behind, or else they must be transformed, and filled with a new and higher meaning. But forms will always remain. But note one thing: they sometimes say that we Unitarians are too cold, and do not have form enough. You will see that, the higher men rise intellectually, the less there is always of outward expression. For example, before men were able to speak with any large vocabulary, they eked out their meaning by all kinds of motions and gestures. But the most highly cultivated men to- day, in their conversation, are the ones who get the least excited and have the least recourse to gestures, because they are capable of expressing the highest, finest, and most varied thoughts by the elaborate power of speech which they have developed. And perhaps the highest and finest worship of the world will not be that which has the most elaborate ceremonial and ritual; but it will have adequate and fitting ceremonial and ritual, because it will naturally seek to express in some external way that which it feels. I sometimes wish and perhaps you will pardon me for saying it here and now that we Unitarians were a little less afraid of adequate posture and gesture in our acts of public worship. God is, indeed, everywhere as much as he is here; but this is the place we have specially consecrated to thinking about him and to going through our stated forms of worship. And if, when you enter the house of a friend, you take off your hat, you bow the head, it seems to me it would be especially fitting to do it, when one enters a Christian church. And, in the attitude of prayer, I wish that all might find it in their hearts to sit with bended brow and closed eyes as in the presence of the Supreme, shutting out the common, the outside world, and trying to realize what it means to come consciously to the feet of the eternal One. I love these simple, fitting, external manifestations of the worshipful spirit; and, if we do not substitute them for the worship, and think we worship when we bend the knee, this appropriate expression of the spirit, or feeling, it seems to ought to help cultivate the feeling and the spirit, and make it easier for us to be conscious of the presence of the Divine. We are men, then, in the highest sense of the term, only as we are worshippers. And the more worshipful we are, in high and true sense of that word, the nobler and higher manhood, and the grander the possibilities in us of de intellectual, moral, spiritual growth. Let us, then, cultivate the admiring, the wondering, the worshipful attitude of heart and mind, and recognize on lowest steps of this ladder that lifts to God, the presence of the same divine power and beauty and glory as that which we see clearly on the highest, and know that always, when we are worshipping any manifestation of God, we are shipping Him who is spirit, in spirit and in truth. When on some strain of music Our thoughts are wafted high; When, touched with tender pity, Kind teardrops dim the eye; When thrilled with scenes of grandeur, Or moved to deeds of love, Do we not give thee worship, O God in heaven above? For Thou art all life's beauty, And Thou art all its good: By Thy tides are we lifted To every lofty mood. Whatever good is in us, Whatever good we see, And every high endeavor, Are they not all from Thee? MORALITY NATURAL, NOT STATUTORY. IT is very common for people to identify their special type of religion or their theological opinions with religion itself, and feel that those who do not agree with them are in the rue sense not religious. Not only this. It is perhaps quite less common for them to identify their particular type of religion with the fundamental ideas of morality, and think that the people who do not agree with them are undermining the moral stability of the world. For example, those who question the absolute authority of the Catholic Church are looked upon the authorities of that Church as the enemies, not only of religion, but as the enemies of society, the enemies of humanity, as doing what they can to shake the very foundations of he social order. You will find a great many Protestant theologians who seem to hold the opinion that, if you dare to question the authenticity or authority of some particular nook in the Bible, you are not only an enemy of religion, but you are an enemy of morality. You are doing what you can to disturb the stability of the world. But, if we look at the matter with a little care, we shall see that we ought to turn it quite around, look at it from another point of view. Though every Bible, every particle of religious literature, every hymn, every prayer on the face of the earth, were blotted out of existence to-day, religion would not be touched. Religious books did not create religion, did not make man a religious being. It is the religious nature of man that made the Bibles, that uttered itself in prayers, that created the rituals, that sung the hymns and chanted the anthems. It is man, a religious being, who makes religious institutions, who creates all the external aspects and appearances of the religious life. And the same is true precisely in regard to moral precepts. If the Ten Commandments were blotted out of the memory of man, if every single ethical teaching of Jesus should perish, if the high and fine moral precepts of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius and all the great teachers of the pagan world should cease to exist, if there were not a printed moral precept on earth, morality would not be touched. It is not these that have created morality. It is the natural moral nature of man that has written all the commandments, whether they have come to us by the hand of Moses or of Gautama or Mohammed or Confucius or Seneca, or no matter who the medium may have been. Man is a moral being, naturally, essentially, eternally, and this is a moral universe, inherently, necessarily, eternally; and, though all the external expression of moral thought and feeling should be lost, the human race would simply reproduce them again. It is sometimes well for us to get down to the bed-rock in our thinking, and find how natural and necessary the great foundations are. The Hindu priests used to tell their followers that the earth, which was flat, rested on certain pillars, which rested again on some other foundation beneath them, and so on until thought was weary in trying to trace that upon which the earth was supposed to find its stability. And they also told their followers that, if they did not bring offerings, if they did not pay the special respect which was due to the gods, if they were not obedient to heir teachings, these pillars would give way, and the earth would be precipitated into the abyss. But we have found, as a result of our modern study of he universe, that the earth needs no pillars on which to rest; but it swings freely in its orbit, as the old verse that used to read in my schoolboy days says, "Hangs on nothing in the air," part of the universal system of things, stable in its eternal sound and motion, kept and cared for by the power that lever sleeps and never is weary. So, by studying into the foundations of the moral nature of man, we have discovered a last that it needs no artificial props or supports, but that morality is inherent, natural and eternal. I shall not raise the question, which is rather curious than practical, as to whether there are any beginnings of moral feeling in the animal world below man. For our purpose this morning it is enough to note that the minute that man appears conscience appears, and that conscience is an act which springs out of social relations. In other words, when the first man rose to the ability to look into the face of his fellow and think of the other man as another self, like himself in feelings, in possibilities of pleasure or pain, when this first man was able imaginatively to put himself in: he place of this other, then morality as a practical fact was Dorn. We may imagine, for the purpose of illustration, this man saying: Here is another being who appears to be like myself. He is capable of suffering pain, as I am. He does not like pain any better than I do. Therefore, I have no right to make him suffer that which I do not wish to suffer myself. This other man is capable of pleasure. He desires certain things, similar things to those which I desire. If I do not wish him to take these things away from me, I have no right to take them away from him. I do not mean that this was thought out in this clear way, but that, when there was the first dim perception of this other self, with similar feelings, similar possibilities, similar pleasures, similar pains, then there became a conscience, because there was a consciousness of this similarity of nature. Morality, then, is born as a social fact. To go a little deeper, and in order to trace the natural and historical growth of the moral ideal, let me say that morality in its deepest and truest sense is born of the fact of sex, because it is right in there that we find the root and the germ of permanent social relations. And I wish you to note another very significant fact. You hear people talking about selfishness and unselfishness, as though they were direct contraries, mutually exclusive of each other, as though, in order to make a selfish man unselfish, you must completely reverse his nature, so to speak. I do not think this is true at all. Unselfishness naturally and necessarily springs out of selfishness, and, in the deepest sense of the word, is not at all contradictory to that. For example: A man falls in love with a woman. This, on one side of it, is as selfish as anything you can possibly conceive. But do you not see by what subtle and divine chemistry the selfishness is straightway transformed, lifted up, glorified, and becomes unselfishness? The very love that he professes for her makes it necessary for his own happiness that she should be happy, so that, in seeking for his own selfish gratification, he is devoting himself unselfishly to the happiness of somebody else. And, when a child is born, do you not see, again, how the two selfishnesses, the father's and the mother's, selfishly, if you please, brooding over and loving the child, at once go out of themselves, consecrating time and care and thought and love, and even health or life itself, if need be, for the welfare of the child? Right in there, then, out of this fact of sex and in the becoming of the family, are born love and sympathy, and tenderness and mutual care, all those things which are the highest and finest constituent elements of the noblest developments of the moral nature of men. Imagination plays a large part in the development of morality; for you must be able to put yourself imaginatively in the place of another before you can feel for that other, and in that way recognize the rights of that other and be ready to grant these rights to that other. So we find that morality at first is a narrow thing: it is confined perhaps to the little family, the father, the mother, the child, bound together by these ties of kinship, of love, of sympathy, devoting themselves to each other; but they may look upon some other family as their natural enemies, and feel no necessity whatever to apply these same principles of love and tenderness and care beyond the limits of their own little circle. So you find, as you study the growth of the moral nature of man, that it is confined at first to the family, then to the patriarchal family, then the tribe; but the fiction of kinship is still kept up, and, while the member of the primeval tribe feels he has no right to rob or murder within the limits of his tribe, he has no compunction whatever about robbing or murdering or injuring the members of some other tribe. So the moral principle in its practical working is limited to the range of the sympathy of the tribe, which does not go beyond the tribal limits. We see how that principle works still in the world, from the beginning clear up to the highest reaches which we have as yet attained. Take the next step, and find a city like ancient Athens. Still, perhaps, the fiction of kinship is maintained. All the citizens of Athens are regarded as members of the same great tribe or family. But even in the time of Plato, whom we are accustomed to look upon as one of the great teachers of the world, there was no thought of any moral obligation to anybody who lived in Sparta, lived in any other city of Greece, and less was there any thought of moral obligation as touching or taking in the outside barbarian. So when the city grew into a nation, and we came to a point where the world substantially stands to-day, do you not see that practically the same principle holds, that, while we recognize in some abstract sort of fashion that we ought to do justice and be kind to people beyond our own limits, yet all our political economy, all our national ideas, are accustomed to emphasize the fact that we must be just and righteous to our own people, but that aggression, injustice of almost any kind, is venial in our treatment of the inhabitants of another country? And it may even flame up into the fire of a wordy patriotism in certain conditions; and love of country may mean hatred and injustice towards the inhabitants of another country, or particularly towards the people of another race. Let me give you a practical illustration of it. What are the relations in which we stand to-day towards Spain? I have unbounded admiration for the patience, on the whole, for the justice, the sense of right, which characterize the American people. I doubt if there is another nation on the face of the earth to-day that would have gone through the last two or three years of our experience, and maintained such an attitude of impartiality, of faithfulness, of justice, of right. And yet, if we examine ourselves, we shall find that it is immensely difficult for us to put ourselves in the place of a Spaniard, to look at the Cuban question from his point of view, to try to be fair, to be just to him. It is immensely difficult, I say, for us to look at one of these international questions from the point of view of another race, cherishing other religious and social ideas, having another style of government. And there is another illustration of it that has recently occurred here in our country, which is sadder still to me. Only a little while ago a postmaster in the South was shot by a mob. The mob surrounds his house, murders him and his child, wounds other members of the family, burns down his home; and why? Under no impulse whatever except that of pure and simple race prejudice, the utter inability of a white man to put himself in the position of a black to such an extent as to recognize, plead for, or defend his inherent rights as a man. I am not casting any aspersion on the South in what I am saying, none whatever. Were the conditions reversed, perhaps we should be no better. It is not a practical problem with us. If there were two or three times as many colored men in the State of New York as there are white men, then we might understand the question. Let us not mentally cast any stones at the people across the line. I point it out simply as illustrating the difficulty that we have in recognizing the rights, the moral rights, of people beyond the limits of that sympathy to which we have been accustomed and for a long period trained. I believe the day will come when we shall be as jealous of the right of a man as we are now of the right of an American. We are not yet. There have been foregleams and prophecies of it in the past. Long ago a Latin writer said, I am a man, and whatever is human is not foreign to me. But think what a lone and isolated utterance that has been for hundreds of years. Jesus taught us to pray, not my Father, but our Father, and we do pray it every day in the-year; but how many are the people in any of the churches that dream of living it? A hundred years ago that heretic, who is still looked upon as the bugaboo of all that is fine and good, Thomas Paine, wrote, "The world is my country, and to do good is my religion," a sentence so fine that it has been carved on the base of the statue of William Lloyd Garrison on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston, as being a fitting symbol of his own philanthropic life. How many of us have risen to the idea of making these grand sentiments the ruling principles of our lives? But along the lines of moral growth it is to come. The day will be when, as I said, we shall feel as keenly whatever touches the right of any man as to-day we feel that which touches the right of one of our own people; and the moral growth of the world will reach beyond that. I love to dream of a day when men will no longer forget the inherent rights of any inhabitant of the air or of the waters or of the woods or any of the domesticated animals that we have come to associate with our lives. We feel towards them to-day as in the old days a man felt towards another man who was his slave, that he had a right to abuse, to maltreat, even to kill, if he pleased. We have not yet become civilized enough, so that we feel it incumbent upon us to recognize the fact that animals can suffer pain, that animals can enjoy the air or the sunshine, and that they have a right to each when they do not trespass upon the larger rights of humanity. I was something of a boy when it first came over me that it was not as amusing to animals to be shot and killed as it was to me to shoot and kill them. From the time I was able to lift a gun I had always carried one; but I soon learned that for me there was no pleasure in taking needlessly the life of anything that lived. We are only partially civilized as yet in the treatment of our domesticated animals. How many people think of the torture of the curb bit, of the check, of neglect in the case of cold, of thirst, of hunger? How many people, I say, civilized and in our best society, are careful yet as to the comfort, the rights, of those that serve them in these humble capacities? The time will come when our moral sympathetic sense shall widen its boundaries even farther yet, and shall take in the trees and the shrubs, the waters, the hills, all the natural and beautiful features of the world. I believe that by and by it will be regarded as immoral, as unmanly, to deface, to mar, that which God has made so glorious and so beautiful. As soon as man develops, then, his power of sympathy, so that it can take the world in its arms, so soon he will have grown to the stature of the Divine in the unfolding of his moral nature. I wish now to raise the question, for a moment, as to what is to be our guide in regard to moral facts and moral actions. I was trained, and perhaps most of you were, to believe that I was unquestioningly to follow my conscience, that whatever conscience told me to do was necessarily right. The conscience has been spoken of as though it were a sort of little deity set to rule man's nature, this little kingdom of thought and feeling and action. But conscience is nothing of the kind. Half of the consciences of the world to-day are all wrong. Let me hint by way of illustration what I mean: Calvin was just as conscientious in burning Servetus as Servetus was in pursuing that course of action which led him to the stake. One of them was wrong in following his conscience, then. You take it to-day: some people will tell you there is a certain day in the week that you must observe as sacred. Your conscience tells you there is another day in the week that you must observe as sacred. Can both be right? Many of the greatest tragedies of the world have come about through these controversies and confusions of conscience. The Quaker in old Boston went at the cart's tail, in disgrace, because he followed his conscience; and the Puritan put him there because he followed his conscience. Were both of them right? The inquisitor in Spain put to death hundreds and thousands of people conscientiously; and the hundreds and thousands of people conscientiously went to their deaths. What is conscience, then? Conscience is not a moral guide. It is simply that monitor within that reiterates to us forever and forever and forever, Do right. But conscience does not tell us what is right. We must decide those questions as a matter of calm study and judgment in the light of human experience. It is the judgment that should tell us whether a thing is right or wrong. And how shall we know whether it is right or wrong? Simply by the consequences. That which helps, that which lifts man up, that which adds to the happiness and the well-being of the world, as the result of human experience, is right. That which hurts, that which injures men and women, that which takes away from their welfare and happiness, that is wrong. All these things, as we shall see before I get through, are inherent in the nature of things, not created by statute, not the result of the moral teaching of anybody. This leads me to extend this idea a little farther, and to raise the question as to what is the standard by which you are to judge moral action. If you will think it out with a little care, you will find that the standard of all moral action may be summed up in the one word "life." Life, first, as continuance; second, to use a philosophical term, content, that which it includes. Life, this is the standard of right and wrong. To illustrate, take me physically, leave out of account all the rest of my nature now for a moment, and consider me as an animal. From the point of view of my body, that which conduces to length of life, to fullness, to completion, to enjoyment of life, is right, the only right, from this physical point of view. That which threatens my life, that which takes away my sum of strength, injures my health, takes away from my possibility of enjoyment, that, from a physical point of view, is wrong; and there can be no other right or wrong from the point of view of the body. But I am not simply body. So this principle must be modified. Come up to the fact that I am an intellectual being. In order to develop myself intellectually, I may have to forego things that would be pleasant on the bodily plane. I sacrifice the lower for the higher; and that which would be right on the physical plane becomes relatively wrong now, because it interferes with something that is higher and more important. Rise one step to man as an affectional being. If you wish to develop him to the finest and highest here, you may not only be obliged under certain conditions to sacrifice the body, but you may be obliged to sacrifice his intellectual development. In order that he may be the best up here, he must put the others sometimes, relatively, under his feet. So, again, that which would be right on the physical plane or the intellectual plane becomes relatively wrong, if it interferes with that which is higher still. And so, if you recognize man as a spiritual being, a child of God, then you say it is right, if need be, to put all these other things under his feet, in order that he may attain the highest and best that he is capable of here. But you see it is life all the way, it is the physical life or it is the mental life or it is the affectional life or it is the spiritual life; and that which is necessary for the cultivation and development of these different grades of life becomes on those grades right, and that which threatens or injures one or either of these grades becomes, so far as that grade is concerned, wrong. Life, then, continuance, fullness, joy, use, this is the standard of right and wrong; a standard which no book ever set up, which no book can ever overthrow; a standard which is inherent, natural, necessary, a part of the very nature of things. I wish now for a moment I must of course do it briefly to consider the relation of religion to this natural morality. And perhaps you will hardly be ready some of you, at any rate for the statement which I propose to make, that sometimes, in order to be grandly moral, a man must be irreligious. I mean, of course, from the point of view of the conventional religion of his time, he must be ready to be regarded as irreligious. In the earliest development of the religious and moral life of a tribe, very likely, the two went hand in hand, side by side; for the dead chief now worshipped as god would be looked upon as in favor of those customs or practices which the tribe had come to regard as right. But religion perhaps you will know by this time, if you have thought of it carefully is the most conservative thing in the world. Naturally, it is the last thing that people are willing to change. This reluctance grows out of their reverence, grows out of their worshipful nature, grows out of their fear that they may be wrong. But now let me illustrate what I mean. Religion, standing still in this way, has become an institution, a set of beliefs, of rites and ceremonies, which do not change. The moral experience of the people goes right on; and so it sometimes comes to pass that the moral ideal has outgrown the religious ideal of the community. And now, as a practical illustration to illume the whole point, let us go back to ancient Athens for a moment at the time of Socrates. Here we are confronted with the curious fact that Socrates, who has been regarded from that day to this as the most grandly moral man of his time, the one man who taught the highest and noblest human ideals, is put to death as an irreligious man. The popular religion of the time cast him out, and put the hemlock to his lips; and at the same time his teaching in regard to righteousness and truth was unspeakably ahead of the popular religion of his day. Let us come to the modern Athens for a moment, to the time of Theodore Parker in Boston. We are confronted here, again, with this strange fact. There was not a church in Boston that could abide him, not even the Unitarian churches; and in the prayer-meetings of the day they were beseeching God to take him out of the world, because they thought he was such a force for evil. And at the same time Theodore Parker stood for the very highest, tenderest, truest moral ideal of his age. There was no man walking the earth at that time who so grandly voiced the real law of God as did Theodore Parker. And yet he was outcast by the popular religious sentiment of his time. This, then, is what I mean when I say that we ought to be careful, and study and think in forming our religious ideals, and see that we do not identify our own unwillingness to think with the eternal and changeless law of God. This is what I have meant in some of the strictures which I have uttered during the last year upon some of the theological creeds of the time. The people have grown to be better than their creeds, but they have not yet developed the courage to make those creeds utter the highest and finest things which they think and feel. This is what I have meant when I have said that the character of God as outlined in many of these creeds is away behind and below the noblest and finest and sweetest ideals of what we regard as fitting even to humanity to-day. Religion, then, may be ahead of the moral ideal or it may be behind it. The particular type of religion I mean, of course, which is being held at any particular time in the history of the world. But the moral ideal of necessity goes on, keeping step with the social experience of the race. I must touch briefly now just one other point of practical importance that we need to guard, in order to be tender and true in our dealings with our fellow-men. You will find, if you look over the face of society, that there are two kinds of morality, frequently quite inconsistent with each other; and sometimes the poorer of the two kinds is held in higher esteem than the better. I mean there is conventional morality, and there is real morality. As a hint of illustration: An American woman goes to Turkey to-day; and she is shocked by the customs of the women and their style of dress. It seems to her that no woman can possibly be moral who, although she covers her head, can appear on the street with feet and ankles bare. But this same Turkish woman is shocked beyond the possibility of utterance to know that in Europe and America women carefully cover their feet, but expose their faces and their shoulders. It seems terrible to her, and she cannot understand how a European or American woman can have any regard for the principles of delicacy and morality. Do you not see how, in both cases here, it is purely a matter of convention? No real question of morality is touched in either case. I speak of this to prepare you to note how conscience can be as troubled over things which are purely conventional as it can over things which are downright and real. Let me use another illustration, going a little deeper in the matter. Here is a man, for example, who is terribly shocked because his neighbor takes a drive with his family on Sunday afternoon. It seems to him an outrage on all the principles of public and social morality; and he is eager to get up a society to abolish such customs, that seem to him to threaten the prosperity of all that is good in the world. But this same man, perhaps, has been trained in a way of conducting his business that, while legal, is not strictly fair. This man may be hard and cruel towards his employees. He may cherish bitter hatreds towards his rivals. In his heart he may be transgressing the law of vital ethics, while fighting with all the power of his nature for that which does not touch any real question of right or wrong at all. Or take a woman who, while shocked at the transgression of some social custom in which she has been trained from her childhood, or, for example, has come to think that a certain way of observing Lent, on which we have just entered, is absolutely necessary to the safety of religion and morals both, is yet quite willing, and without a qualm of conscience, on the slightest hint of a suspicion, to tear into tatters the character of one of her neighbors or friends, does not hesitate to slander, perhaps is unjust or cruel to the servants that make the house comfortable and beautiful for her; in other words, transgressing the real laws of right and wrong, she is shocked and troubled over the transgression on the part of others of some purely conventional statute, the keeping or breach of which has no real bearing on the welfare of the world. A good many of our social judgments are like the case of the old lady pardon me, if it should make you smile, but it illustrates the case who criticised with a great deal of severity a neighbor and friend who wore feathers on her bonnet. Somebody said to her, But the ribbons on your bonnet are quite as expensive as the feathers that you criticise. "Yes," she said, "I know they are; but you have got to draw the line somewhere, and I choose to draw it at feathers." So you find a great many people on every hand in society who are choosing to draw these lines purely artificial, purely conventional in regard to matters of supposed right or wrong, while they are not as careful to look down deeply into the essential principles of that which is inherently right or wrong. And now at the end I wish to suggest what is a theme large enough for a sermon by itself, and say that these laws of righteousness are so inherent that they are self-executed; and by no possibility did any soul from the beginning of the world ever escape the adequate result of his wrong-doing. The old Hebrews, as manifested in the Book of Job, the Psalms, and all through the Old Testament, taught the idea, which was common at that time in the world, that the favor of God was to be judged by the external prosperity of men and women. The Old Testament promises long life and wealth and all sorts of good things to the people who do right; and I find on every hand in the modern world people who have inherited this way of looking at things. I have heard people say: I have tried to do right, and I am not prosperous. I wonder why I am treated so? I have heard women say, I have tried to be a good mother: why is my child taken away from me? As though there was any sort of relation between the two facts. I hear people say, Don't talk to me about the justice of God, when here is a man, who has been dishonest all his life long, who has prospered, and become rich and lives in a fine house, drives his horses, and owns a yacht. As if there was any sort of connection between the two, as though a man merely because he had a fine house and owned a yacht was escaping the punishment of his unjust and selfish life. Remember, friends, look a little below the surface. There is no possibility of escape. I break some law of my body; do I escape the result? I break some law of my mind; do I escape the result? I break some law of my affectional nature; is nothing to happen? I break a law of my spiritual nature; does nothing take place as the result of it? You might as well say that the law of gravity can be suspended, that a man can fling himself over the edge of a precipice, and come to no harm. The precipice over the edge of which you fling yourself may be a physical one, may be a mental one, an affectional one, a spiritual one; but the moral gravity of the universe is never mocked, and the man who breaks any of God's laws never goes free. He may discover that he has broken it, be sorry for it, begin to keep it again, and recover himself; but the consequences are sure, inevitable, eternal. You look at a man who is externally prospering, and because of this you say he is not suffering the result of the evil he has done. Go back with me to Homer's Odyssey at the time when Ulysses and his companions fell into the hands of the sorceress, and his companions were turned into swine. Would you go and look at these swine, and say they are not suffering anything? See how comfortable they are. See with what gusto they eat the food that is cast into their troughs. See how happy they are as swine. They are not suffering anything Is it nothing to become swinish, merely because you have your beautiful pen to live in? Is a not suffering the result of his moral wrong when he debases and degrades and deteriorates his own nature, and becomes less a man, because he is surrounded with all that is glorious and beautiful that art can supply? Look within whatever department of nature where the law has been disobeyed, and there forever and forever read the result, the inevitable law, that the soul that sinneth, in so far as it sinneth, it shall die. REWARD AND PUNISHMENT. Two WEEKS ago I preached a sermon, the subject of which was "Morality Natural, not Statutory." Judging by the conversations which I have had and letters which I have received, it has aroused a good deal of question and criticism in certain quarters. This must be for one of three reasons. In the first place, the position which I took may not be a tenable one. In the second place, it is possible that the views expressed, being somewhat new and unfamiliar, were not found easy of apprehension and acceptance. In the third place, it is possible that, in endeavoring to treat so large a subject, I did not analyze and illustrate enough to make myself perfectly clear. At any rate, the matter seems to me of such supreme importance as to make it worth my while this morning to continue the general subject by a careful and earnest treatment of the great question of reward and punishment as applied to feeling, to thought, to conduct, the whole of human life. Let me say here at the outset, as indicating the point towards which I shall aim as my goal, that in the ordinary use of language, in the popular use of language, I do not believe in either reward or punishment: I believe only in causes and results. This, as I said, is the point that I shall aim at. Where shall I begin? I need to ask you to consider for a moment the state of mind of man, so far as we can conceive it, when he first wakes up as a conscious being, and begins to look out over the scene of nature and human life with the endeavor to interpret facts as they appear to him. Of course, he knows nothing whatever of what we mean by natural law: he knows nothing of natural cause and of necessary result. So far as we can discover by our researches, all the tribes of men about whom we have been able to gather any information have had a belief, if not in God, at least in gods, or in spiritual existences and powers that controlled within certain limits the course of human events. It may have been the worship of ancestors, it may have been the worship of some great chief of the tribe; but these invisible beings have been able to help or hurt their followers, their worshippers; and of course they have been thought of as governing human life after substantially the same methods that they used when they were living here in the body. That is, it has been a magical or arbitrary government of the world that has been for ages the dominant one in the human mind. People have supposed that these invisible beings desired them to do certain things, to refrain from doing certain other things, and they have expected them to reward or punish them how? By giving them that which they desired, on the one hand, or sending them something which they did not desire, on the other. They have brought the gods their offerings, their sacrifices, their words of praise, and have asked that they might be successful in war, that they might bring home the game which they sought when they went on a hunting expedition. When there have been disease, pestilence, famine, drought, no matter what the nature of the evil, they have been regarded as allotments of these divine powers sent on account of something they have done or omitted to do. It never occurred to them to interpret these as part of a natural order, because they knew nothing about any natural order. They reasoned as well as they were able to reason at that stage of culture in any particular age of the world's history which they had reached. But this has been the thought of men time out of mind concerning the method of the divine or spiritual or unseen government of the world. Is this way of looking at it confined to primitive man, confined to pagan nations? Do we find something else, some other condition of mind, when we come to study carefully the Old Testament? Let us see. Take the first verse which I read as a part of my text. The author of this Psalm we do not know who he may have been says, "I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread." As I have read this a great many times in the past, I have wondered as to the strange experience that this man must have had in human life, if this is a correct interpretation of that experience. I have been young: I do not like to admit that as yet I am old; but, whether I am or not, I have a good many times seen the righteous forsaken, and his seed begging their bread. It seems to me that the writer of this verse was trained in a theory of the government of human affairs that does not at all match the facts. He has this magical, this arbitrary theory in his mind. It was the general conception I think, as any one will find by a careful reading of the Old Testament or study of Jewish history, the ordinary conception among the Hebrews, that God was to reward people for being good by prosperity, long life, many children, herds of cattle, distinction among his fellow-men, positions of political honor and power; and the threat of the taking away of these is frequently uttered against those that presume to do wrong. In other words, it seems to me that the ordinary theory of the government of human affairs as set forth in the Old Testament is precisely this same one that I have been considering as the natural and necessary outcome of the ignorance and inexperience of early man. As time went on, now and then some deeper, more spiritual thinker begins to question this method of reasoning, begins to wonder whether it is quite adequate; and we have a magnificent poetical expression of this kind of critical thought in the Book of Job. This Book of Job is any way and every way worthy of your careful attention. It is the nearest to a dramatic production of anything in the Bible. James Anthony Froude said once in regard to it that, if it were translated merely as a poem and published by itself, it would take rank as a literary work among the few great masterpieces of the world. But the thing that engages our attention this morning is not its power as a dramatic production, but its criticism of God's government of the world. It has been assumed, as I have said, and we are not through with that assumption, that, if a man suffered, if he was ill, if his wife or children were taken away from him, if his property was destroyed, somehow he had offended God, and that this was a punishment for the course of wrong-doing in which he had been engaged. But the author of the Book of Job conceives that this does not quite match the facts; so he gives us this magnificent character that he declares upright, spotless, free from wrong of any kind, who yet is suffering. He has lost his property, it has been swept away, his children have been put to death, almost everything that he cared for he has lost, and he from head to feet is sick of a loathsome disease; and he sits in the midst of his deprivation and sorrow. His friends gather around him; and with this old assumption in their minds some of them begin to taunt him. They say, Now, Job, why not confess, why not own up as to what you have been doing? Of course, you have been doing something wrong, or all this would not have happened. This is the tone that one of his critics takes. This is the kind of comfort that he receives in the midst of his sorrow. But Job protests earnestly and indignantly that it is not true. He says he is innocent, there are no secret wrongs in his life; and he wishes that he might find some way by which he could come into the presence of the great Ruler of the universe, and openly plead his cause. But his friends do not believe him. Now the writer of the book lets us into the explanation he has thought out for this: God for a special reason is testing Job, to see whether he will be true to him in spite of the fact that he does not get the ordinary blessings that the people were accustomed to look for as the rewards of their conduct. But the writer is not consistent with the wonderful position that he makes Job assume; for, after the trial is all over, he falls in with the popular theory, and shows us Job, not with the old children who could not be brought back, but with a lot of new ones, with herds and cattle again in plenty, with honor among his fellow-citizens, with all that heart could wish in the way of worldly prosperity and peace. So I say the writer is not quite consistent, for he falls back at the end on the old theory, and he lets us gain a glimpse behind the scenes, just enough to see that there are cases, special cases, where the popular theory does not hold; but he still seems to assume that, in a general way, we are to accept it as correct, and as explaining the facts of human life. The Jews acted on this theory in their political history. Their prophets, their great teachers, asserted over and over again that, if they were true to their God, if they were faithful in their obedience to the law, if they lived out all these highest and finest ideals of ceremonial as well as heart righteousness, that they would be mighty as a nation, that their enemies would be put under their feet, that they would have political success and power; and yet their increasing insistence on this ceremonial and interior righteousness of thought and life was found to be no adequate defence against the Roman legions. Political success did not come to them. In spite of all their obedience, they were swept out of existence as a nation. Now do we find any difference in teaching in the New Testament? We do; and we do not. The teaching of the New Testament is not consistent in this matter. If Jesus be correctly reported, his own teaching is not quite consistent on this subject. Let me give you one or two illustrations, that you may see what I mean. John tells us that a certain man, who had been born blind, was brought to Jesus to be cured; and the people stood about, and said to Jesus, "Who is it, this man himself or his parents, that sinned, so that he was born blind?" You see it does not occur to them that there is any natural cause for a man's being blind, apart from some sin on the part of somebody. Who is it, then, his father or mother, or he himself, that has sinned, that is the cause of it? Jesus says, "Neither this man nor his parents have sinned," and you think at first that you are going to get an adequate explanation; but he straightway adds that the man was blind in order that the works of God might be manifest in him; which we cannot accept to-day as quite an adequate explanation. Then take the case of the man who was lying at the pool of Bethesda, and was reported as cured. Jesus meets him, after a good deal of question and criticism on the part of the Jews, and says, "Now you have been healed, see to it that you sin no more, lest a worse thing come to you," seeming to imply again that sin might be punished by lameness, by affliction of this kind or that. So it seems to me that we do not get, even in the New Testament, entirely free from this old conception. Indeed, there are the verses which I read as a part of our lesson from the fifth chapter of Matthew, one of which for a clear or more spiritual insight I have quoted as a part of my text, "Blessed are they that do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled" with what? Filled with righteousness; not filled with health, external prosperity, many children, friends, political position, honor. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall what? See God. "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." You see these beatitudes strike down to the eternal principle of natural, necessary causation and result, just as does the last verse which I have quoted from Galatians, "Be not deceived; God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap," not something else, that. Here is a clear and explicit annunciation of the eternal, universal law of cause and effect, of the idea that those things which happen are not arbitrary infliction, but natural and necessary result. Let us, then, consider this matter for a little as we look over the face of human life as it is manifested to us at the present time. I suppose hardly a week passes that, either by letter or in conversation, I do not come face to face with this same old problem, showing that only partially and here and there have men and women even to-day come to comprehend the real method after which this universe of ours is governed. For example, let me give you a few illustrations. I have a friend in Boston, one of the noblest men I ever knew, sweet, gentle, true: he came to me one day, and said: "Mr. Savage, I have tried all my life to be an honest man. I do not own an ill-gotten dollar. I have tried to be kind and helpful to people in need, in trouble; and yet," and then it began to dawn on him that he was not on a very logical track, for he smiled, "and yet I have not got on very well in the world; I have not made a great deal of money; I have not been specially prosperous in business." And the implication was that here, next door or in another street, was a man who had a good many ill-gotten dollars, and who had not been generous or kindly or humane or tender, but who had prospered and become rich, as he had not. And he raised this as a serious objection against the justice of the government of the world. I have had mothers; I presume a thousand times, say to me: "I have tried to take the best possible care of my child. I loved my child, I watched over it night and day, I have money enough to give it a good education, I could train it into fitness for life; and yet my child is taken away." Here is somebody else who has not the means to educate her child, perhaps whose character and intelligence are a good deal below the average level. Her child is spared, spared for what? Spared for a career for which it will be entirely unfitted; and the question is, Why does God do such things, why is the universe governed in this fashion? And I have had persons say to me: "I have been ill all my life, I have suffered no end of pain and trouble: I wonder why? What have I done that I must be burdened and afflicted after this fashion?" So these questions are coming up perpetually, showing that underlying the ordinary surface of our common daily life is still this theory that God arbitrarily governs the world, and rewards people for being good with health and with money and with children and with all sorts of prosperity. There is no end of talk in regard to judgments, as they are called. I remember when I was living in the West I take this as an illustration as good as any a neighboring small city was badly devastated by fire. All the ministers around me in my city began to preach about it as a judgment of God for the supposed wickedness of this city. One peculiar thing about this particular judgment, which I noticed as reported in the papers, was that the last thing which the fire burned was a church; and it left standing next door, and untouched, a liquor saloon. It seemed to me a very peculiar kind of divine judgment, if that is what it really was. And so, as you look into these cases of supposed divine judgments, which people are so ready to see in regard to their neighbors, you will find that it has some serious defect of this sort almost always that makes you question whether a wise man would be guilty of that method of conducting his affairs. This, perhaps, is enough by way of setting forth the popular method of looking at these problems. I want to ask you now to go with me for a little while, as I attempt to analyze some of these cases, and get at the real principle involved as to what it is that is really going on. Now take this case of the mother whose child is taken away from her, as she says. Let us see if we can find out what is really being done. It is possible, of course, that the child has inherited, it may be from a grandfather or great-grandfather, from somewhere along the line, a tendency to a particular kind of disease. It may be that, without anybody's being to blame for it or anybody's knowing it, the child was exposed to some contagious disease on the street or at school. It may be that the mother, through a little otherwise pardonable vanity, wishing to display the beauty of the child rather than to dress it in the healthiest manner, has been the means of exposing it to cold. It may be any one of a dozen things has caused the death of this child. And do you not see that in every case it has nothing whatever to do with the mother's moral goodness or spiritual cultivation? It is absurd to think that the mother, in this case, is being punished for something that she is entirely unconscious of having been guilty of. Do you not see that there is no logical connection between an inherited disease, between exposure, between taking cold, between any of these natural causes and the goodness of the mother? Is it not absurd to talk about their having anything whatever to do with each other? I remember hearing a famous revivalist preach some years ago; and in this particular sermon he represented God as using all means to try to turn such a man from his path of evil, as he regarded it, into the way of right and truth and salvation; and he said: First, perhaps, God takes his property away from him; and that does not change him. And by and by he takes his wife; and that does not change him. And then he takes one of his children; and, as he expressed it, he lays these coffins across his pathway in order to warn him of his sinful condition, and turn him into the right way. Think of a God who kills other people on account of my wrong! I had a friend in Boston once, a lady, a school-teacher, who in all seriousness told me, when her sister died, that she was afraid God had taken her sister away because she had not been sufficiently faithful in attending church services during Lent. Think of it! Not only the lack of logic in linking things like these together, but the practical impiety of attributing to God such feelings and action in regard to his dealings with his children! Let us take the case of a man who, not being highly elevated in character, becomes rich. Let us see if we can get at the principles involved here. Perhaps you can call to mind one or another case that you may be thinking of while I speak. Of course I shall mention no names. Here is a man who possesses remarkable natural business ability, power to read the commerce, the business of his times. He deals with these in a practical way. He complies with the conditions of accumulating wealth. No matter for the present whether he does wrong in doing it or not, that is, whether he is unjust or hard or cruel; but he complies with the conditions for the obtaining of money in this particular department of life. Now do you not see that, no matter what his moral character may be in other directions, whether he is kind to his wife, whether he is loving towards his children, whether he is generous in a charitable way, whether he is politically stanch or corrupt, do you not see that these questions are entirely irrelevant, have nothing whatever to do with the question of success in the money field? He sows according to the laws of the product which he wishes to raise, and the product appears. Or take the case of a farmer: Here is a certain tract of land adapted to a particular crop. He sows wisely in this field. He cultivates it: the rain and the sun do their part; and in the fall he has a magnificent result. Now has that anything whatever to do with the question whether the man was a good man or not, as to whether he went to prayer-meeting or not, as to whether he read his Bible or not, as to whether he was profane or not, as to whether he was a good neighbor or not? Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he reap, and reap it where he sows it. Is it not perfectly plain? So in any department of human life, I care not what, trace it out, and you will find that precisely the same principle is involved, and that you get results, not arbitrary bestowal's of reward or punishment. Now I must come having, I hope, made this sufficiently clear, though after this fragmentary fashion to deal a little more with some of the ethical sides of this question. I have had no end of persons tell me, first and last, that it seemed to them that the universe could not be a moral universe, that it was not governed fairly, that reward and punishment were not meted out evenly to people; and they based their criticism on statements of fact similar to those with which I have been dealing. Now let us look into the matter a little deeply; and let us see if we can find any hint of light and guidance. I have had a person within a week say to me, "I do not feel at all sure that it means much that people get the moral results of their moral action in a particular department of life. If a person becomes a little bit callous and hard, wisely selfish and prudent, and so prospers in the affairs of this life, I am not sure that he is not as well off as anybody, perhaps a little better off, perhaps a little better off than a person who is sensitive, and worries because he does not reach his ideals; and it is possible that he serves the world after all quite as well." This is a kind of criticism, I say, that has been made to me in the last week. Let us look at it for just a minute. People do not seem able as yet to understand that a man is really "punished," in the popular sense of that word, unless they can see him publicly whipped. It does not seem to them to mean anything because a man deteriorates, because the highest and finest qualities in him atrophy and threaten to die out. I used an illustration in my sermon two weeks ago to which I shall have to recur again, to see if I can make it mean more than it did then. It is the story of Ulysses who fell into the hands of the famous sorceress, and whose companions were turned into swine. Now would you be willing to be turned into a pig, merely because, being a pig, you would not know anything about it, and would not suffer? Would you be willing to be reduced to the life of an oyster, merely because, being an oyster, you would be haunted by no restless ideals, and, so far as you had any sense at all, would probably be very comfortable indeed? Is there no "punishment" in this deprivation of the highest and finest things that we can conceive of? It seems to me that a person who has deteriorated, who has become selfish, who has become mean, who has lost all taste for high and fine and sweet things, and is unconscious of them, is having meted out to him the worst conceivable retribution. If a man is mean and knows it, if a man is selfish and is conscious of it, if a man is unjust and is stung by the reflection, there is a little hope for him, there is life there, there is moral vitality, there is a chance for him to recuperate, to climb up into something higher and finer; but, if he has not only become degraded and mean, but has become contented in that condition, it seems to me that he is worse off than almost anybody else of whom we can dream. Let us see for a moment on what conditions a man who has deteriorated is well off. There are three big "ifs" in the way, in my thought of it. If a man really is a spiritual being, if he is a child of God, if there are in him possibilities of unfolding of all that is sweet and divine, then he is not well off when he is not developing these, and is content not to develop them. Browning says, in his introduction to "Sordello," "The culture of a soul, little else is of any value." If we are souls, and if the culture of a soul is of chiefest importance, then cursed beyond all words is the man who has deteriorated and become degraded and is content to have it so. Blessed beyond all words is the soul that is haunted by discontent, haunted by unattained and unattainable ideals, who is restless because of that which he feels he might be and yet is not, he who is touched by the far-off issues of divinity, and cannot rest until he has grown into the stature of the Divine! And then, once more, if it be true that it is worth our while to help our fellow-men in the higher side of their nature, to help them be men and women, to help them realize that they are children of God, and to grow into the realization of it, if, I say, this be worth while, then lamentable beyond all power of expression is the condition of that man who does not feel it and does not care for it, and does not consecrate himself to its attainment. Look over the long line of those who have served mankind. Who are they? From Abraham down, the prophets of Israel; Jesus, Paul, Savonarola, Huss, Wyclif, Luther, Channing, Parker, who have these men been but the ones who were ready at any price to do something to lift up and lead on the progress of mankind? These are the ones who have felt the meaning of those sublime words of Jesus: "He that loseth his life shall save it." If there is any meaning in that splendid passage from George Eliot, that is so trite because it is so fine, "Oh may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence: live In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in score For miserable aims that end with self, In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, And with their mild persistence urge man's search To vaster issues. So to live is heaven: To make undying music in the world, Breathing as beauteous order that control With growing sway the growing life of man. This is life to come, Which martyred men have made more glorious For us who strive to follow. May I reach That purest heaven, be to other souls The cup of strength in some great agony, Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love, Beget the smiles that have no cruelty, Be the sweet presence of a good diffused, And in diffusion ever more intense. So shall I join the choir invisible Whose music is the gladness of the world." If, I say, there is any meaning in that magnificent song, then indeed it is worth while to be miserable, if need be, worth while to suffer, worth while to sacrifice for the sake of planting seed in the spiritual fields, and looking for its spiritual results, and not finding fault with the universe because we do not get results of spiritual goodness in material realms. There is one other "if." If it be true, as I believe it is, that this life goes right on, and that we carry into the to-morrow of another life the precise and accurate results that we have wrought out in the to-day of this; if it be true that, when we get over there, it will be spiritual facts and spiritual things with which we shall deal, then the man who has cultivated his spiritual nature and has reaped spiritual results has no right to find fault with the universe because it has not paid him with material good. Let us remember, then, that we get what we sow. God has not promised to pay you in greenbacks for being good; God has not promised to give you physical health because you are gentle and tender; God has not promised to give you long life because you are generous; God has not promised to give you positions of social or political honor because you are kind to your neighbors, faithful to your wife, true to your children. Can you not see that whatsoever a man sowest, that shall he reap; and that he will reap in the field where he sows, and not in some other; and that God is dealing fairly, justly, tenderly, truly, with you in giving you the results at which you aim, and not the results at which you do not aim? So, if you really care to be a man, if you care to be a woman, honest, noble, tender, true, then be these, and be grateful that you reap the reward where you sowed, and do not find fault with God or the universe because he does not pay you for things that you have not done, because he does not make a crop grow in some field that you have not cultivated, because it is eternally true that God is not mocked, and that whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. THINGS WHICH DOUBT CANNOT DESTROY. THE critical and investigating work of the modern world threatens to shake not the earth only, but also heaven. And there are large numbers of people who are disturbed and afraid: they are troubled lest certain things that are precious, that are dear to them, may be taken away. Not only this, they are troubled lest things of vital importance to the highest life of the world be taken away. I propose, then, this morning to run in rapid review over a few of the changes that are caused by the investigating spirit of the time, and then to point out some things that are not touched, that cannot be shaken, and that therefore must remain. And I ask you to have in mind, as I pursue this line of thought, the question whether doubt has taken away anything really valuable from mankind. The negative part of my theme I shall touch on very lightly, and dispose of as briefly as I may. What has doubt, what has investigation, done concerning the universe of which we are a part? In the old days, before doubt began its work, before men asked questions and demanded proof, we lived in a little, petty, tiny world, which the imagination of the superstitious and the fear of ignorant men had created. But the cycles and epicycles which Ptolemy devised, and by means of which he explained, as well as he knew how, the movements of the heavenly bodies around us, these have passed away. The breath of doubt has blown upon them; and they have gone, like mists driven by the wind. But has doubt quenched the light of any star? Has doubt taken away from the glory of the universe? Rather, as the result of the work of these myriad investigators, whose one aim and end was truth, at last we have a universe worthy to be the home of an infinite God, a universe that matches our thought of the Divine, a universe that thrills and lifts us, fills us with reverence, and bends us to our knees in the attitude of worship. The same spirit has raised no end of questions concerning God. What has been the result? We have lost the old thought of God in the shape of a man sitting on a throne located in the heavens just above the blue or on some distant star. We have lost the thought of a God as a tyrant, as a jealous being, as angry every day with his children, as ready to punish these children forever for their ignorance, for their intellectual mistakes, for their sins of whatever kind. We have changed our conception of him; but have we lost God? I will not answer that question at this stage of the discourse, because I wish merely to suggest it now, and dwell on it a little more when I come to the positive treatment of our morning's theme. Let us glance at the Bible a moment. Doubt and investigation have been at work there. What has been the result? Have we lost the Bible? No. We have gained it. We have lost those things about it which were intellectual burdens because we could not believe them, which were a moral burden because they conflicted with our highest and noblest sense of right. We no longer feel under the necessity of reconciling human mistakes with divine infallibility. Professor Goldwin Smith has told us recently that these old theories of the Bible were a millstone about the neck of Christendom, and that they must be gotten rid of if Christianity was to live. This is all that doubt and investigation have done to the Bible. They have cleared away the things that no sane and earnest and devout mind wishes to keep; and they have restored to us in all their dignity and beauty and sweetness and power the real human Bible, the Bible which poured out of the heart of the olden time, and which is in all its truth and sweetness, so far as they go, a revelation of the divinest things in human thought and human dream. Preachers tell us every little while that those who ask questions have taken away our Lord, and they know not where he has been laid. What has this spirit done concerning Jesus? Has it taken him away from us? Rather, as the result of all this question and criticism, at last we have found him, found him who has been hidden away for ages, found the man, divine son of God, son of man, brother, friend, inspirer, companion, helper. It has done for Jesus the grandest service of which we can conceive. And now one more point. People used to suppose they knew all about the next world. They knew where heaven was and where hell was, and who were to be the inhabitants of either place, and why. Doubt and question have been at work here, and now we do not know where heaven is; and we do not know where hell is, except that it is within the heart of those that are not in accord with the divine life. Where the places are, we know not; but blessed beyond all words be ignorance like this! We know because we believe in righteousness and truth that there is no hell except that which we create for ourselves; and that is in this world, in any world where there is a breach of a divine law. But has the great hope gone? Has doubt touched that, so that it has shrivelled and become as nothing? That I shall have occasion to touch on a little more at length in a moment; and so I leave it here with this suggestion. I wish you now to note, and to note with a great deal of care, that doubt, criticism, question, investigation, have no power to destroy anything. People talk as though, if you doubted a thing, it disappeared, as though doubt had magical power to annihilate in some way a truth. If you really do doubt an important divine truth, it may disturb and trouble you for a while; but the truth remains just the same. I remember some years ago a parishioner came to me, an intelligent lady, and said, "Mr. Savage, I have about lost my belief in any future life." I smiled, and said: "I am sorry for you, if it interferes with your comfort and peace; but remember one thing, neither your doubt nor my belief touches or changes the fact." The eternal life is not something to be puffed away with a breath, if it be real. So rest right there in the firm assurance that whatever is true is true, and rests on the eternal foundation of the permanence of God; and asking questions about it, digging away at its foundations, testing it in any and all sorts of ways, cannot by any possibility injure it. Enforce thus this idea, simple as it seems, because thousands of men and women at the present time are made to tremble by utterances from the pulpit, as though doubt were really a destroyer. Of course, it seems commonplace the moment you think of it; and, still for your peace and for the restfulness of your mind as you look on the things that are taking place about us, hold fast to this simple idea. There is one other point which I wish to raise. What is the use of criticism? What is the use of all this investigating? Why indulge in all this doubt? And now let me give you an illustration which will lead me to answering this question and enforcing the point I have in mind. A farmer, if he selects a favorable piece of ground, plants good seed, cultivates it properly, if the rain falls and the sun shines, and the weather is propitious, will have a successful crop. Does it make any difference now whether the farmer has correct ideas about soil and seed and cultivation? Does it make any difference whether he has any true conception of the nature and work of the sunshine in producing this crop? In one sense, No. In another, a very important sense, Yes. Suppose the farmer, having gotten into his mind the idea that the sun is the source of all the life and growth of the things that he plants and the crops he cultivates, should say, "Well, now, it does not make any difference whether I have correct scientific theories about the sun or not: the sun carries on his work just the same." I have heard people say, over and over again, using an illustration like this: "What difference does it make what your theories are about the spiritual life, about the origin and nature of religion, about morality? If you live a good life, the results are just the same, whatever your thinking may be." And I grant it. But now suppose the farmer should say to himself: "The sun is the source of all the life that I am able to produce, that I see growing around me; and now I will worship him as a god. I will pray to him, I will sing songs of praise to him, I will bring birds and animals and burn sacrifices to him; and so I will win his favor, and get him to produce these wonderful results for me." Suppose he should so seek his results, and pay no attention to the character of the soil, to the kind of seed he planted, or to proper cultivation: would that make no difference? Do you not see that theory may be of immense practical importance in certain contingencies? Whether he has any knowledge of the sun or not, if he complies with the laws, the conditions, if he is fortunately obedient, then his results will be produced. But, if his ignorance, his superstition, lead him to neglect the natural forces with which he deals, then it may make all the difference in the world. So, as I study the history and development of religious thought, I see everywhere that men and women, through their ignorance in regard to the real nature of the universe and of God and of their own souls, are going astray, wasting time, wasting thought, wasting effort, misdirecting all these instead of complying with the real natural universal conditions on which these noblest and highest results which they desire depend. If a man, for example, believes that he is to please God by a sacrifice, by an offering, by swinging incense, by going through a certain ceremony, instead of being righteous and true, does it make no difference? Carry out the idea as far as you please, I think I have made plain the thought I had in mind. So it does make a difference what our thoughts, our theories, may be; and, therefore, there is good in this work of investigation which proposes to sift and test and try things, and find out the real nature of the forces which confront us and with which we have to deal. Now, then, I come to the positive answering of our question. Are there some things that doubt cannot touch? And are these things the most important ones, the ones that we need to feel solid under our feet? What do we need? We do not need to be able to unravel all the mysteries of the universe. Any quantity of the questions we ask are not practical ones. We do not need to wait for an answer to them. Any number of the things that are in doubt are of no practical consequence; and we need not wait for their settlement before we begin to live and to help our fellowmen and to do what we can to bring in the coming kingdom of our Father. I wish to note now a few of the things that seem to me very stable things, that doubt cannot disturb. And first I will say that which I mean when I use the word "God." I wish you to learn to separate between the word and the reality. Sometimes people are quarrelling over a label instead of the reality that is back of all. I care very little for a name. I care for things, for the eternal truths of the universe. May we then feel that modern doubt does not touch our belief in God? I ask you to consider a moment, and see. As we wake up, assuming nothing, and look abroad, what do we find? We find ourselves in the presence of a Power that is not ourselves, another Power, a Power that was here before we were born, a Power that will be here after we have died, a Power that has produced us, and so is our father and mother on any theory you choose to hold of it, a Power out of which we have come. Now suppose we look abroad, and try to find something in regard to the nature of this Power. We can conceive no beginning: we can conceive no end. And let me say right here that, as the result of all his lifelong study and thinking as an evolutionist, Mr. Herbert Spencer has said that the existence of this infinite and eternal Power, of which all the phenomenal universe is only a partial and passing manifestation, is the one item of human knowledge of which we are most certain of all. An Infinite Power, then, an eternal Power, shall I say an intelligent Power? At any rate, just as far as our intelligence can reach, we find that the universe matches that intelligence, responds to it, so that we must think of it, it seems to me, as intelligent. Out of that Power, as I have said, we have come; and who are we? Persons, persons that think, persons that feel, persons that love, persons that hope; and we are the children of this Power, and, according to one of the fundamental principles of science, nothing can be evolved which was not first involved, the stream cannot rise higher than its source, that which is produced must be equal to that which produces it. This Power, then, eternal, infinite, intelligent, must be as much as what we mean by person, by thought, by love, by hope, by all that makes us what we are. Shall we call a Power like this God? Shall we call it Nature? Shall we call it Law? Shall we call it Force? It seems to me that, if we take any name less and lower than God, we are indulging in a huge assumption, and a negative assumption at that. Suppose that, looking at one of you, I should call you body instead of calling you man. I should be assuming that you are only body, which I have no right to do. If I call this Infinite Power, then, Nature, Force, Law, Matter, I am indulging in a negative assumption which is scientifically unwarranted. As a reasonable being, then, I think I am scientifically warranted in saying that belief in God is something that all investigation only affirms, and affirms over and over again, and with still greater and greater force. I have not time to go into this at any further length this morning; but I believe that we are scientifically right in saying that all the doubt, all the investigation, all the questioning of the world, have only given us a stronger and more solid assurance that we have a divine Power around us, and that we are the children of that Power. In the next place, to carry the idea a little farther, we want, if we may, to believe that this Infinite and eternal Power manifested in the universe is a good Power. If it be not, we are hopeless. I hear reformers sometimes in their zeal picturing the dreadful condition of affairs socially or industrially or politically, and saying that the world is getting worse and worse, that the rich are getting richer, and the poor are getting poorer, and the republic is becoming more corrupt week by week and year by year, giving the impression that the world in general is on the down grade. If I believed that, I should give it up, I should see no reason for struggle and effort. If an Infinite Power is against me in my efforts to do good, what is the use of my making the effort? We want to know, then, as to whether a belief in the goodness of this Infinite Power is a thing that doubt and investigation have not touched and cannot disturb. Let us consider just a moment one or two thoughts bearing upon it. The pessimist tells us that the universe is bad all the way through, that this is the worst possible kind of world. When a man makes a statement like that, I always wish to ask him a question which it seems to me absolutely overturns his position, how did he happen to find it out? If the universe is bad all through, essentially bad, where did he get his moral ideal in the light of which to judge and condemn it? How does this bad universe produce an amount of justice and truth and love to be used as a measuring-rod in order to find out whether it will correspond with these ideals or not? That one question seems to me enough to turn pessimism into nonsense. Let us look at it in another way. As we look back, as far as we can towards the beginning of things, we find this fact: when man appeared on the earth, conscience was born, as I told you the other day, a sense of right came with him, and since that day he has been struggling to attain and realize an ever and ever enlarging and heightening ideal. This, then, the conscience, the sense of right, the ideal, must be a part of the nature of the universe that has produced them. And we notice that these have been growing with the advance of the ages. Before dwelling on that a little farther, let me touch another consideration which is germane to it. If you look over the face of human society, you get proof positive, scientific demonstration unquestionable, that good is in the majority, love is the majority power of the world. How do I know? You draw up a list of all those things that you call evil, and you will note, as you analyze them, that they are the things that tend to disintegrate, to separate, to tear down; and you draw up a list of those things that you call good, and you will find that they are the things that tend to build up, that bind human society together, and help on life and growth and happiness. Now the simple fact that human society exists proves that the things that tend to bind together are more powerful than the things that tend to disintegrate and tear down. Just as, for instance, if you see a planet swinging in the blue to-night, you will know that the centripetal power is stronger than the centrifugal, or there would be no planet there. That which tends to hold it together is mightier than that which tends to disintegrate and fling its particles away from each other. So the simple fact that human society exists proves that good is in the majority. And then, as we trace the development of human society from the far-off beginning, we find that justice, truth, tenderness, pity, love, helpfulness, all these qualities have been on the increase, and are growing; and, since the Power that has wrought in lifting up and leading on mankind is unspent, we believe that that Infinite Power of which we have been speaking is underneath this lifting, is behind this progress, and that the end may reasonably be expected to issue in that perfection of which we dream and whose outlines we dimly see afar off. An infinite power, then, a power that is good, a power that we may study, partially understand, at any rate, and co-operate with. We can help on this progress instead of hindering it. We can do something to make the world better. Here are two things then, God and goodness, that no doubt, no investigation, have ever been able to touch or destroy. A third thing. We want to believe that there is a meaning in these little individual lives of ours. Sometimes, when we read of pestilences or the great wars of the world, when we think of children born and dying so soon almost as they are born, when we note the brevity of even the longest life and take into account the sweep of the ages, we sometimes find ourselves depressed with the thought that these human lives of ours mean so little. It sometimes seems as though nature cared nothing for us, and swept us away as the first cold and the frost sweep away the millions of flies that had been buzzing their little hour of sunshine. We need to feel, then, if we are to live manly, womanly lives, that there is some plan, or may be some purpose in our being born, in our little struggle of a few years, in our being thwarted, in our succeeding, in our being sick or well, in our being rich or poor, in our being learned or ignorant. Does it make any difference how we live these lives of ours? Is there significance in them, any purpose, any plan, any outcome, to make it worth while for us to struggle and strive? We need to know this; and what do the investigation and the doubt and the struggle of the world say to us concerning these? If there is anything which science teaches us, it is that the infinite God, the Power, whatever we name it, that is the thought and life of this universe, is expressed just as perfectly in the tiniest atom as in the most magnificent galaxy. There is no such thing as an imperfect atom in this universe. The infinitesimal atoms below us, and the tiny orbits through which these atoms and molecules sweep, are as much in the grasp of the Eternal Law as the movements of the stars over our heads. Things are not lost in this universe out of the eternal purpose because they are little. So our apparent littleness, the weakness, feebleness of our lives, need not disturb the grandeur of our trust in this direction. Then as we study ourselves, as we see the good that has been growing through the ages, and as we note the fact that I hinted at a moment ago, that we can plant ourselves in the way, and hinder the working of the Divine, so far as our tiny strength goes, or that we can study the conditions of this growth and co-operate and help it on, and so be just as truly a builder of the highest and finest humanity of the future as God is himself, as we note this, are not our little lives raised into dignity and touched with glory? And why should I cringe and humiliate myself in the presence of a planet a thousand times larger than our earth, or a sun a million and a half times larger than the planet that shakes to its centre as I stamp my tiny foot? I, or one like me, has measured the sun, weighed it as an apothecary can weigh a gram in his scales. I have untangled the rays of his light, and am able to tell the substances that are burning those ninety millions of miles away, in order to send down that ray of light to our earth. I have untangled the mysteries of the heavens, and find these only aggregations of matter like those of which my body is composed; but I deal with all these and overtop them, speeding with my thought with the rapidity that leaves the lightning behind. And I know that, because I can think God and can trace his thoughts after him as he goes through his creative processes, so I am more than these,-- a child of the Creator. I may feel as a little boy feels who stands beside his father who is the captain of some mighty ship. The ship may be a million times greater than he; but the captain's intelligence and hand made it, shaped it, rules it, turns it whithersoever he will. And I am the captain's child, like him, and capable of matching his masterly achievement. And so I may believe that I, as a child of the infinite Father, am of infinite importance to him in this universe of his; and I can live a grand and noble life. Nobody can harm me but myself. Place an obstacle in my path, and, whether it be insurmountable or not, I may show myself a coward or a hero as I face it. Tell me I have made a mistake, I can repair it. Tell me I have committed some moral error, am guilty of sin, I confess it. But I can make all these mistakes and sins stairways up which I can climb nearer and nearer to God. You may test me with sorrows, affliction, take away my property, take away my health, take away my friends; and the way in which I receive these may either make me nobler or poorer and meaner, as I will. The sun shines upon the earth. It turns one clod hard, makes it incapable of producing anything. It softens and sweetens another, the same sun: the difference is in the way in which it is received. So these influences may touch me, may make me hard and bitter and mean and rebellious, or I may stand all, and say, as the old Stoics used to, "Even if the gods are not just, I w ill be just, and shame the gods." So man may say, Whatever comes upon me, I will meet it like a man, and like a child of the Highest, and so make my life significant, a part of the divine plan, something glorious and real. One thought more. When we have got through with this life, and stand on the shore of a sea whose wavelets lap the sands at our feet, and the ships of those that depart go out into the mist, and we wonder whither, what has doubt done, what has investigation done, touching this great hope of ours, as we face that which we speak of as the Unknown? So far as the old-time and traditional belief is concerned, I hold that doubt has been of infinite and unspeakable service. Certainly, I could rather have no belief at all than the old belief. Certainly, I would rather sink into unconsciousness and eternal sleep than wake to watch over the battlements of heaven the ascent of the smoke of the torment that goeth up forever and ever. But is there any rational ground for hope still? I cannot stop this morning even to suggest to you the grounds for the assertion that I am about to make. I believe that, if we have not already demonstrated eternal life, we are on the eve of such demonstration. I believe that another continent is to be discovered as veritably as Columbus discovered this New World. As he, as he neared the shore, saw floating tokens upon the waters that indicated to him that land was not far away, so I believe that tokens are all about us of this other country, which is not a future, but only a present, unseen and unknown to the most of us. But grant, if you will, that that is not to be attained, modern investigation and doubt have done nothing to touch the grounds of the great human hope that springs forever in the breast, that hope which is born of love, born of trust, born of our dreams, born of our yearning towards the land whither our dear ones have departed. Let me read you just a few lines of challenge to those that would raise a question as to the reality of this belief: What is this mystic, wondrous hope in me, That, when no star from out the darkness bore Gives promise of the coming of the morn, When all life seems a pathless mystery Through which tear-blinded eyes no way can see; When illness comes, and life grows most forlorn, Still dares to laugh the last dread threat to scorn, And proudly cries, Death is not, shall not be? I wonder at myself! Tell me, O Death, If that thou rul'st the earth, if "dust to dust" Shall be the end of love and hope and strife, From what rare land is blown this living breath That shapes itself to whispers of strong trust, And tells the lie, if 'tis a lie, of life? Where did this wondrous dream come from? How does it grow as the world grows? It must be a whisper of this eternal Being to our hearts; and so, in spite of all the advance of knowledge, all the criticism, it remains untouched, brightening and growing. And so there is reason, as we gaze out on the future, why we should look with contempt, if you will, upon the conditions that trouble us in this life, the burdens, the sorrows, the illnesses, when all that life means at its highest is that out of the conditions, whatever they are, I should shape a manhood, cultivate a soul, make myself worth living, fitting myself for that which gleams through the mist a promise, if you will, of something there beyond. Now I wish simply to call your attention to the fact that doubt does not touch this eternal Power, does not touch the fact that this is a good Power, and that it is on the side of goodness, does not touch the fact that we are the children of that Power and may co-operate with it for good and share its ultimate triumph, does not touch the great hope that makes it worth while for us to suffer, to bear, to dare all things. And these great trusts, are they not all we need to be men, to be women, to conquer the conditions of life and prove ourselves children of the Highest? EVOLUTION LOSES NOTHING OF VALUE TO MAN. I TAKE two texts, one of them from the New Testament. It may be found in the fifth chapter of the Gospel according to Matthew, the seventeenth verse, "Think not that I came to destroy the law or the prophets: I came not to destroy, but to fulfil." The other text is from Emerson: "One accent of the Holy Ghost The heedless world hath never lost." The theory of evolution to-day, in the minds of all competent students, is quite as firmly established as is the law of gravity or the Copernican theory in astronomy. But, when it was first propounded in its modern form by Herbert Spencer, when he issued his first book, and when Darwin's "Origin of Species" was published, there was an outcry, especially throughout the religious world. There was a great fear shuddered through the hearts of men. They felt as though the dearest things on earth were threatened and were likely to be destroyed. Essayists declared that this theory undermined the foundations of morals. They said that it took away, not only the Bible, but God and all rational religion. They told us that, in tracing the ancestry of man back and down to the animals, humanity was being desecrated, and that the essential feature of man as a child of God was being taken away. If I believed that any of these things were true, I might not be an enemy of evolution, if indeed it be established; for there is very little reason in a man's setting himself against an established truth. But I should certainly be very sad, and should wish that we might hold some other theory of things. But I believe that it will appear, as we study the matter a little while carefully, that not only are these charges that have been brought against the theory baseless, but that right here is to be found not only the real progress of the world, but the true conservatism. Evolution is the most conservative theory that has ever been held. It keeps everything that has been found serviceable to man. It may transform it. It may lift it to some higher level, on to some loftier range of life; but it keeps and carries forward everything that helps. This inevitably and in the nature of things. There are two great tendencies which are characteristic of that method of progress or growth which we call by the name of evolution. One is the hereditary tendency, and the other is the tendency to variation. One, if it were in full force, would merely, forever and forever, repeat the past: the other, if it were in full force, would blot out all the past, and forever be creating something new. It is in the balance of these two tendencies that we discover the orderly growth of the world; and this orderly growth it is which constitutes evolution. Let me illustrate: Here is a tree, for example. The tendency that we call heredity would simply constantly repeat the past: the tendency to vary would vary the tree out of existence. The ideal is that it shall keep its form, for example, as an oak, but that, in the process of growth, the bark shall expand freely and sufficiently to make room for the manifestation of the new life. Now, if the bark had power to refuse expansion, of course, you know, the tree would die. If there were not power enough to maintain the form, then, again, the tree would cease to exist. This you may take as a type and illustration of the method of all life and all progress everywhere. Those people who naturally represent the heredity tendency what we call the conservative people of the world are the ones who are always afraid of any change. They deprecate the utterance of new ideas. They hesitate to accept any new-fangled notions, as perhaps they call them. They are afraid that something precious, something sweet, something dear, that belonged to the past, may be lost. This manifests itself in all departments of life. I suppose that there never was an improvement proposed in the world that somebody did not object to it in the interests of the established order. And yet, if these people that do not want any changes made had had control of the world ten thousand years ago, where should we be to-day? We should still be barbarians in the jungles. For it is because these people have not been able to keep the world still that we have advanced here and there in the direction of what we are pleased to call civilization. You remember, for example, as illustrating this opposition, how the workingmen, the laborers of the time, a few years ago, in England, fought against the introduction of machinery. They said machinery was going to take their work away, it was going to break down the old industrial order of the world, it was going to make it impossible for the laborer to get his living. A few machines were to do the world's work; and the great multitude were to be idle, and, not having anything to do, were to receive no pay for labor, and consequently were to starve. This was the cry. The outcome has been that there has been infinitely more done, a much larger number of laborers employed, employed less hours in the day, paid higher wages; and in every direction the condition of the industrial world has been improved. I speak of this simply as an illustration of this tendency. When we come to religion, it is perfectly natural that the opposition here should be bitterer than anywhere else in the world; and it always has been. If you think of it just a little, if you read the history of the world a little, you will find that the last thing on earth that people have been willing to improve has been their religion. And this, I say, is perfectly natural. Why? Because men have instinctively felt and rightly felt, as I believe that religion was the most important thing in human life. They felt that it was the most sacred thing, that on it depended higher and more permanent interests than on anything else; and they have naturally been timid, naturally shrunk from change, with the fear that changing the theories and the practices and the thoughts was going to endanger the thing itself. They have said, We will hold on, at any rate, to these reverences, these worships, these precious trusts, these hopes; and we will hold on to the vessels in which we have carried them, because how do we know, if the vessels are changed or taken away, that we may not lose the precious contents themselves? This, I say, has been the feeling; and it has been a perfectly natural feeling. I wish then, this morning, for a little while to review with you some of the steps in evolution that the world has taken, and let you see how it has worked in different departments of human thought and human life, so that you may become convinced if possible, as I am that evolution has never thrown away, has never lost, anything precious in any department of the world since human life began. If I believed it did, I would fight against it. For instance, here is a devout Catholic servant-girl. She believes in her saints. She counts her beads and recites her Ave Marias. She goes to the cathedral on Sunday morning. And this is her world of poetry and romance. Here is a source of comfort. This throws a halo around the drudgery of the kitchen, the service of the house in which she is an employee. Would I take away this trust, this poetry, this romance, untrue as I believe it to be in form, inadequate as I believe it to be? Would I take it away, and leave her mind bare, her heart empty, leave her without the comfort, without the inspiration? Not for one moment. I would take it away only if, in the process, I could supply her with something just a little better, a little more nearly true, something that would give her comfort, something that would be an inspiration to her, something that would buoy her up as a hope, something that would help her to be faithful and true in the work of her daily life. This is what evolution means. It means taking away the old, and, in the process, substituting therefore something a little bit better. I would not take away the idol of the lowest barbarian unless I could help him to take a step a little higher, so that he should see the intellectual and spiritual thing that the idol stood for, and so enable him to walk his pathway of life as firmly, as faithfully, as hopefully, as he did before. I have been watching the work that has been going on in our streets during the last months. You, too, have seen how they will replace the track on an entire line of railway without stopping the running of the cars. They take away the old and worn and poorer, but constantly substitute something better for it; and human life moves right on. Everything is better; the change has come; but that change is; an improvement. This is what evolution does; for evolution is nothing new in the world. It is only the name for the method of God, which is as old as the universe itself, new to us because we have just discovered it; but as old as the light of a star that has been travelling for twenty-five thousand years, and has just come into the field of the astronomer's telescope, so that he announces it as a new discovery.. This is what it means. Now let me call your attention to the fact that in the world below us the world of the trees and the shrubs and the flowers and the plants this evolutionary force is working after precisely the same method that I have just been indicating. All the fair, the beautiful things have been developed under this process, in accordance with this method, out of the first bare and rough and crude manifestations of vegetable life. Nothing has been thrown away that was of any value. Take it, for example, in regard to the wild weeds which have become the oats and the wheat and the barley and the rye of the world. All the old that was of value has been kept and has been developed into something higher and finer and sweeter. The aboriginal crab-apple has become a thousand luscious kinds of fruits; and the flowers all their beauty, all their fragrance, all their color and form? are the result of the working of this method of God's power that we have called evolution. Nothing of any value is left behind in the uncounted ages of the past. All that is of worth to-day has been transformed and lifted to some higher level and made a part of the wondrous life that is all around us. So, when you come to the animal life, you find the same thing. The swift foot, the flashing wing, the beauty of color, all the wonders of animal life have simply been developed in accordance with this method and under this impelling force which we call evolution, which is only a name for the working of God. When we come up to the level of man, what do we find? Man as an animal is not the equal of a good many of the other animals in the world. He is not as swift as the deer, he is not as strong as the lion, he cannot fly in the air like a bird, he cannot live in the sea like the fishes. He is restricted to the comparatively contracted area of the surface of the land. He is not as perfect as an animal; but what has evolution done? It has given him power of conquest over all these, because the evolutionary force has left the bodily structure, we need expect no more marked changes there, and has gone to brain. So this feeblest of all the animals physically speaking he would be no match for a hundred different kinds of animals that are about us is able to outwit them all, that is, to outknow, he has become the ruler of the earth. And not only has this evolutionary force gone to brain, it has gone to heart; and man has become a being whose primest characteristic is love. The one thing that we think of as most perfect, that we dream of as characterizing his future development, is summed up in his affectional nature. Then, too, he has become a moral being. There are times, like the present, when it seems as though the animal were at the top, and the affectional nature suppressed, and the conscience were ruled out of court; and yet you study the methods of modern warfare as compared with those of the past, you see how pity and tenderness and care walk by the side of every gun, hide in the rear of every battlefield to attend to the wounded and suffering. And you know what talk there has been of pity for the hungry, the desire of the world to feed those that need; and the one dominant note in the discussion of the war all over the world has been the question as to its being right. No matter how we may have decided, whether the decision be correct or not, the civilized world bows itself in the presence of its ideal of right, and demands that no war shall be fought the issue of which is not to be a better condition of mankind. Evolution, then, tends to the development of brain, heart, conscience, and the spiritual nature of man. It has left nothing behind that is of any value to us. It has transformed or sublimed or lifted all up into the higher range of the life that we are living to-day, and contains within itself a promise of the higher and the grander life that we reach forward to to-morrow. I wish now, for a moment, to illustrate the working of this in regard to some of the institutions of the world. If I had time, I could show you that the same law is apparent in the development of the arts, sculpture, painting, poetry. I must pass them by, however. As illustrating what I mean, let me take the one art of music. From the very beginning man has been interested in making some sort of sounds which, I suppose, have been regarded as music by him. Most of those that are associated with the barbaric man would be anything but music to us. The music, for example, that they give in connection with a play in a Chinese theatre would not be acceptable to the cultivated ear of Americans. We have left behind much that the world called music. We have left behind any number of musical instruments. We do not now have those that the Psalmist makes so much of, the old-time harp, the sackbut, the psaltery. I do not know, though you may, what kind of instruments they were. The world has completely forgotten them, and left them out of sight. And yet no musical note, no musical chord, no musical thought, no musical feeling, has been forgotten or dropped along the advancing pathway of the world's progress; and in our organs all the attempts at instruments of that kind from the beginning of the world are preserved, transformed and glorified. In our magnificent orchestras all the first feeble beginnings are developed until we have a conception of music to-day such as would have been utterly incomprehensible to the primeval man. What I wish you to note is and this is the use of my illustration that the advancing growth of the music of the world has forgotten nothing that it was worth while to keep. Let me give you one more illustration. Take it in the line of government. The first tribes were governed by two forces, brute force and superstitious fear. These were the two things that kept the primal tribes of the world in order, such order as was maintained in those far-off times. The world has gone on developing different types of government, different types of social order. I need not stop to outline them for you this morning: you know what they are; and I only wish you to catch the thought I have in mind. I suppose that every time one of the old types was about to pass away the adherents of that type have been in a panic lest anarchy was threatening the world. Believers in these types have said that it was absolutely necessary to keep them, in order to preserve social order. Take the attitude of the monarchy to-day, for example, as towards the republic. When we attempted to establish our republic here in this western world, it was freely said by the adherents of the old political idea in Europe that it would of necessity be a failure, that there was no possibility of a stable human order without a hierarchy of nobles with a king at the top; and I suppose they believed it. But we have proved beyond question that we can have a strong government, an orderly government, without either nobility or king. There is less government in the United States here to-day than in almost any other country of the world, a nearer approach to what the philosopher would call anarchy. Anarchy does not mean disorder, when a philosopher is talking: it means merely the absence of external government. And that is the ideal that we are approaching. Paul says, you know, that the law was made for wicked people, for the disobedient and the disorderly, not for good people. How many people are there in New York to-day, for example, who are honest, who pay their debts, who did not commit a burglary last night, who do not propose to be false to wife and home, on account of the law, the existence of courts and police? The great majority of the citizens of America to-day would go right on being honest and kind and loving and helpful, whether there were any laws or not. They are not kept to these courses of conduct by the law. They have learned that these are the fitting ways of life that these are the things for a man to do; and they despise themselves if they are less than man. In other words, this governmental order, which exists as an outside force, at last gets written in the heart and becomes a law of life. Now precisely the same process is going on in other departments of the world: it is going on in religion. And now let me come to religion, and illustrate the working of the law here. The old types of religious thought and life and practice, the first ones that the world knew, are long since outgrown. We regard them as barbaric, as cruel. We have learned that there are not a million gods of whom we need stand in awe. We have learned that God is no partial God. We have learned that God does not want us, as universal man once believed, to sacrifice the dearest object of our love. We have learned that he does not want us to sacrifice our first-born child, as the old Hebrews used to, and the remains of which custom are plainly visible throughout the Old Testament everywhere. We have left behind these old types of religious thought and life; but the world has lost nothing in the process. The world has not left religion behind. The whole process of growth and development in the sphere of the religious life and the development of man has been one of outgrowing crude and partial and inadequate thoughts and feelings about the universe and God and man and duty and destiny. We do not care so much about ceremony as the world did once. The most civilized people in the world are not so given to these things in their religious development. We do not care so much about creed as they did a thousand or five hundred years ago. We do not believe that God is going to judge us by our intellectual conceptions of him and of our fellow- men. And I suppose it is true, always has been true as it is to-day, that the adherent of any particular form or theory of the religious life has the feeling that, when that is threatened, religion is threatened; and he defends it passionately, fights for it, perhaps bitterly, feels justified in opposing, perhaps hating, those he regards as the enemies of God and his great and sacred and religious hopes. And yet we know, as we study the past, whether we can quite appreciate it as true in regard to the theories which I am voicing to-day, that the truth has never been in any danger, and the highest and finest and sweetest things in the religious life have never been in any danger, are not in any danger to-day. Let me indicate in two or three directions. There has been a class of thinkers, which has done a good deal of talking and writing in this direction, who are telling us that the poetry, the romance, the wonder, the mystery, of the world those things that tend to bring a man to his knees and to lift his eyes in awe and reverence are passing away; that science is going to explore everything; that there is going to be no more unknown; and that, when we have completed this process, one of the great essentials of religious thought and feeling and life will have perished from among men. I venture to say to you that there has never been a time in the history of the world when there was so much of mystery, so much of wonder, so much of reverence, so much of awe, as there is to-day. We are apt to fool ourselves in our thinking, and, when we have observed a fact, and labelled it, to think we know it. For example, here is this mysterious force that we call electricity, which is flashing such light in our homes and through our streets as the world has never known before. The cars, loaded, are speeding along our highways with no visible means of propulsion. We step up to a little box, and put a shell to our ear, and speak and listen, and converse with a friend in Boston or Chicago, recognizing the voice perfectly, as though this friend were by our side. We send a message over a wire, under the deep, and talk to London and all round the globe; and we have labelled this force electricity. And, instead of getting down on our knees in reverence, we get impatient if our communication is delayed two minutes or three. We fool ourselves with the thought that, because we have called it electricity, we know it, we have taken the mystery out of the fact. Why, friends, do you know anything about electricity? Do you know what it is? Do you know why it works as it does? I do not; and I do not know of anybody on the face of the earth who does. The wonder of the "Arabian Nights" is cheap and tame and theatrical compared to the wonder of this everyday workaday world of ours, in the midst of which and by means of which we are carrying on our business and our daily avocations. The wonder of the carpet that would carry the person through the air who sat upon it and wished is nothing compared with the power of electricity, steam, any one of these invisible, intangible powers that are thrilling through the world to-day. There never was so much room for mystery, for awe, for poetry, for romance, as there is in the midst of our commercial life in this nineteenth century. This element of religion, then, is in no danger. We know nothing ultimately. Who can tell me what a particle of matter is? Who can tell me what a ray of light is, as it comes from a star? Who can tell me how the movements in the particles of air striking my eye run up into nerve and brain, and become translated into thought, into light, into form, into motion, into all this wondrous universe that surrounds us on every hand? Then take the element of trust. People used to think they could trust in their gods. Rebecca, for example, stole her father's gods, and hid them in the trappings of her camel, and sat on them. She thought, then, that she had a god near her who would care for her. The old Hebrew, with an ox-team, carried his God, in a box that he called the ark, into battle, and supposed that he had a very present help in time of need. But we have the eternal stability and order of the universe, a God that never forgets, a God on whom we can lean, in whom we can trust, who is not away off in heaven, but here, closer to us than the air we breathe, a God in whom we live and move and have our being. And has this evolution of the religious life of the world threatened the stability of truth? There never was a time on earth when there was such a passion for truth as there is today. What means all this intense activity of the scientific world? these men that devote their lives to some little fraction of the universe which they study through their microscope, not for pay, to find one little fragment of the truth of God; these critics that are rummaging the dust-heaps of the ages in the hope that they may find one little, bright-glittering particle of truth in the midst of the rubbish? There never was such a passion for truth as there is here and now. Are we going to lose the sense of righteousness which is the very heart of religion? There never was a time since the world began when the average man cared so much for righteousness, when he laid so much emphasis on human conduct, on kindness, on help, on all those things that make this life of ours desirable and sweet. The ideal of character and behavior has risen step by step from the beginning, and is higher to-day than it ever was before. Not because men fear a whipping, not because they are threatened with hell in another world, not because a God of vengeance is preached to them, because they have grown to see the beauty of righteousness, because they know that obedience to the laws of God means health, means sanity, means peace, means prosperity, means well-being, means all high and good and noble things. This righteousness is not driven into one by blows from outside: it blossoms out from the intellect and the conscience and the heart, as the recognized law of all fine and desirable and human living. What are we losing, then, as the result of this growth of the world in accordance with the law of evolution? Are we losing our hope of the future? The form of that hope is passing away. We no longer believe in an underground world of the dead, as the Hebrews did. We no longer believe in a heaven just above the blue, as Christendom has believed for so long. We no longer believe in a heaven where all struggle and thought and study and growth are left out, where there is to be only a monotonous enjoyment that would pall upon any living rational soul. The form of it is passing away; but there never was a time when there was such a great and inspiring hope, not simply for myself and my friends, not simply for my neighbors, not simply for my particular church. There never was a time when there was such a great hope, including humanity for this world and for the next, as that which inspires us now. Nothing, then, in religion that is of any worth has the world forgotten or is it likely to forget. All the old reverences and loves and trusts and inspirations and hopes and tendernesses are here intermingled. They are in the highest and noblest people; and they are being carried on and refined and purified and glorified as the world goes on. And now let me suggest one thought more that may be of comfort to some. A great many people have been accustomed to associate so much of their religion with the forms of their religious expression that they fancy that the world's outgrowing these means that religion is being outgrown. I said, you remember, when touching upon government as an illustration of the working of the law of evolution, that governmental forms were being outgrown just as fast as the world was becoming civilized. If this world ever becomes perfect, government will cease to be, in the sense of these external forms, simply because there will be no need of it; just as you take down a staging when you have completed a house. So I look forward to less and less care for the external forms of the religious life. I believe they will remain, and they ought to remain, just as long as they are any practical help to anybody; but, because a person ceases to need them, you must not think that he has ceased to be religious. When the world gets to be perfectly religious, there will be no need of any churches, there will be no need any more of preachers, there will be no need of any of the external ceremony of religion. You remember what the old seer says in the book of Revelation, as he looks forward to the perfect condition of things. He is picturing that ideal city which he saw in his vision coming down from God out of heaven. This was his poetical way of setting forth his idea of the perfected condition of humanity; and he said, speaking of that city, "And I saw no temple therein, for the Lord God was the temple of it." The external forms pass away when the life needs them no more. Take, for example, the condition of things when Jesus came to Jerusalem. You know how they put him to death. And what did they put him to death for? They put him to death because he preached of a time when there would be no need of any temple, no need of any priesthood, no need of any of the external things that they regarded as essential to religious life. They thought he was blaspheming, they thought he was an enemy of God and of his fellowmen, because he talked that way. He said to the woman of Samaria, You think you must worship God on this mountain, Gerizim, and the Jews think they must worship him on Mount Moriah; but God is spirit, and the time will come when you will not care whether you are in this place or that, but will worship him in spirit and in truth. You see it was just along these lines that Jesus was preaching and working in his day. So, when humanity becomes perfected, external forms, that have helped mould and shape man into his perfection, will be needed no more. They will fall off, pass away, and be forgotten; but that will not mean that humanity has forgotten or left behind any great essential to the religious life. It will mean simply that he has taken them up into his own heart, absorbed them into his life. He naturally drops them when he is no longer in need of external supports. This law of evolution, then, is simply the method of God's progress from the beginning, the same method which was to be found in the lowest, the method which has lifted us to where we are, the method which looks out with promise towards the better things which are to come. The one life thrilled the star-dust through, In nebulous masses whirled, Until, globed like a drop of dew, Shone out a new-made world. The one life on the ocean shore, Through primal ooze and slime, Crept slowly on from less to more Along the ways of time. The one life in the jungles old, From lowly creeping things, Did ever some new form unfold, Swift feet or soaring wings. The one life all the ages through Pursued its wondrous plant Till, as the tree of promise grew, It blossomed into man. The one life reacheth onward still; As yet no eye may see The far-off fact, man's dream fulfill? The glory yet to be. WHY ARE NOT ALL EDUCATED PEOPLE UNITARIANS? THE religious opinions of the average person in any community do not count for much, if any one is studying them with the endeavor to find out their bearing on what is true or what is false. This is true not only of popular religious opinions, but of any other set of opinions whatever; and for the simple reason that most people do not hold their opinions as the result of any study, of any investigation, because they have seriously tried to find out what is true, and have become convinced that this, and not that, represents the reality of things. Let us note for a moment and I do this rather to clear the way than because I consider it of any very great importance how it is that the great majority of people come by the religious opinions which they happen to hold. I suppose it is true in thousands of cases that a man or a woman is in this church rather than that merely as the result of inheritance and childhood training. People inherit their religious ideas. They are taught certain things in their childhood, they have accepted them perhaps without any sort of question; and so they are where they happen to be to-day. If you stop and think of it for just a moment, you will see that this may be all right as a starting-point, but is not quite an adequate reason why we should hold permanently, and throughout our lives, a particular set of ideas. If all of us were to accept opinions in this sort of fashion, and never put them behind us or make any change, where would the growth of the world be? How would it be possible for one generation to make a little advance on that which preceded it, so that we could speak of the progress of mankind? Then, when persons do make up their minds to change, to leave one church and go to another, it is not an uncommon thing for them simply to select a particular place of worship or a special organization for no better reason than that they happen to like it, to be attracted to it for some superficial cause. How many people who do leave one church for another do it as the result of any earnest study, or real endeavor to find the truth? And yet, if you will give the matter a moment's serious consideration, you will see that we have no sort of right to choose one theory rather than another, one set of ideas rather than another, because we happen to like one thing, and not something else. Liking or disliking, a superficial preference or aversion, is an impertinence when dealing with these great, high, and deep questions of God and the soul, of the true or the false. Then I have known a great many people in my life who went to a particular church for no better reason than mere convenience. It was easily accessible, it was just around the corner, they did not have to make any long journey, and did not have to put themselves out any to get up a little earlier on Sunday morning, which they would otherwise need to do. A mere matter of convenience! And this is so many times allowed to settle some great question of right or wrong. Then you will find those who select a particular church or a particular church organization, become identified with it, merely because on a casual visit to the place they were taken with the minister, happened to like his appearance, his method of speaking, the way he presented his ideas. Or perhaps they were attracted by the music. There are persons who decide these great questions of God and truth and the soul for no more important a reason than the organization and the capacity of the church choir. It is not an uncommon thing for people to attend some particular church because it promises to be socially advantageous to them. It is fashionable in a particular town. I have a friend, I still call him friend, a Boston lawyer, who told me in conversation about this subject one day that he deliberately went to the largest church he could find, and that, if in the particular city in which he was residing the Roman Catholic Church was in the majority, he should attend that. There are thousands of persons who wish to be in the swim, and who are diverted this way or that by what seems to them socially profitable. Think of it, claiming to be followers of the Nazarene, who was outcast, spit upon, treated with contempt, on whom the scribes and Pharisees of his day looked down with bitterness and scorn, and who led the world for the sake of his love for God out into a larger truth, who made himself of no reputation, claim to be followers of him, and let a matter of fashion decide whether they will go this way or walk in some other path I Think of the irony of a situation like that! Then, again, there are those who attach themselves to some one church rather than to another because, after looking over the ground, they made up their minds that it would be to their business advantage. They will become associated with a set of people who can help them on in the world. It is all very well, if there be no higher consideration, for a person to be governed in his action by motives like these; but is it quite right to decide a question of truth or falsehood, of God or duty, of the consecration of the human soul, of the service of one's fellow- men, on the basis of supposed financial advantage? There is hardly a year goes by that persons do not come to me, considering the question as to whether they will attend my church. I can see in a few minutes' conversation with them that they have some purpose to gain. They wish to be helped on in the prosecution of some scheme for their own advancement. If they succeed, they are devout Unitarians and loyal followers of mine. If not, within a few weeks I hear of them as devoted attendants somewhere else, where they have been able to make their personal plans a success. These are some of the reasons there are worthier ones than these which influence the crowd. There are, I say, worthier ones. Let me hint one or two. I do not think it is any sacrilege, or betrayal of confidence, for me to speak a name. The late Frances E. Willard, one of the ablest, truest, most devoted women I have ever known, frankly confessed to me in personal conversation that she was more in sympathy with my religious ideas than of those of the Church with which she was connected, but her love, her tender love and reverence for her mother and the memory of her mother's religion were such that she could not find it in her heart to break away. She loved the services her mother loved, she loved the hymns her mother sung, she loved the associations connected with her mother's life. All sweet, beautiful, noble; but, if nobody from the beginning of the world had ever advanced beyond mothers' ideas where should we be to-day? Is it not, after all, the truest reverence for mother, in the spirit of consecration she showed to follow the truth as you see it to-day, as she followed it as she saw it yesterday? So much to justify the statement I made, that the average popular belief on any subject is not a reliable guide to a person who is earnestly desiring to find the simple truth. Now let us come to the answer of the specific question which I have propounded. Why are not all educated people Unitarians? I ask this question, not because I originated it, but because it has been put to me, I suppose, a hundred times. People say, You claim to have studied these matters very carefully, you have tried to find the truth, you think you have found it. You have followed what you regard as the true method of search. If you have found the truth, and if other people, using this same method and being as unbiased as you, could also find it, how does it happen that Unitarians are in the minority? Why do not all persons who study and who are educated accept the Unitarian faith? This question, I say, has been asked me a great many times; and it is a question that deserves a fair, an earnest and sympathetic answer. Such an answer I am now to try to give. In the first place, let me make a few assertions. I have not time to prove them this morning; but they are capable of proof. The advantage of a scientific statement is that, though you do not stop to prove it, you know it can be proved any time, whenever a person chooses to take the time or trouble. For example, if I state the truth of the Copernican system, or that the earth revolves around the sun, and you challenge me to prove it in two minutes, I may not be able to; it may take longer than that; but I know it can be demonstrated to-morrow or next week or any time, because it has been demonstrated over and over again. I wish now to assert the truth of certain fundamental principles; and these principles, you note, are those which constitute the peculiarity of the Unitarian people as a body of theological believers. For example, that this which is all around us and of which we are a part is a universe is demonstrated beyond question. It is one, the unity of the universe. The unity of force, the unity of substance or matter, the unity of law, the unity of life, the unity of humanity, the unity of the fundamental principles of ethics, the unity of the religious life and aspiration of the world, these, I say, are demonstrated. And do you not see that demonstrating these carries along with it the unquestioned, the absolute demonstration of the unity of the power that is in the universe and manifests itself through it? The unity of God? The Lord our God is one! And this is no question of speculation, it is demonstrated truth. Now, as to any speculative or metaphysical division of God's nature into three parts or personalities, there is not, and there cannot be, in the nature of things, one slightest particle of proof. The unity is demonstrated: anything else is incapable of demonstration. Next, the Unitarian contention I say Unitarian, not because we originated it by any means, but simply because we first and chiefly among religious bodies have accepted it as to the origin and nature of man as science has unfolded it to us, thus precluding the possibility of the truth of any doctrine of any fall. This is not speculation, it is not whim. It is not something picked up by the way, that a man chooses because he likes it, and because he does not like something else. This is demonstrated truth, as clearly and fully demonstrated as is the law of gravity or the fact that water will freeze at a certain temperature. Then the question of the Bible. The Unitarian position in regard to the origin, the method of composition, the authenticity and the authority of Biblical books, is a commonplace of scholarship. There is no rational question in regard to it any more. Next, the question of the origin and nature of Jesus the Christ. The naturalness of his birth, the naturalness of his death, his pure humanity, are made clearer and surer by every new step which investigation takes; and there is nothing in the nature of proof that is conceivable in regard to any other theory. If any one chooses to accept it, well; but nobody claims, or can claim, to prove it, to settle it, to demonstrate it as true. It becomes an article of faith, a question of voluntary belief; but there is no possibility of holding it in any other way. So as to the nature of salvation. It is a matter of character; a man is saved when he is right. And that he cannot be saved in any other way is demonstrable and demonstrated truth. Now, these are the main principles which constitute the beliefs of Unitarians; and in any court of reason they are able to make good their claim against any corner. And, if there be no other motive at work except the one clear-eyed, simple desire to find the truth, there can be no two opinions concerning any of them. Why, then, are not all thoughtful, educated people Unitarians? Well may the listener ask, in wonder, if the statements I have just been making are true. Now I propose to offer some suggestions, showing what are some of the influences at work which determine belief, and which have very little to do with the question as to whether the beliefs are capable of establishing themselves as true or not. In the first place, let us raise the question as to what is generally meant by education. We assume that all educated people ought to agree on all great questions; and they ought, note now what I am saying, they ought, if they are really and truly educated, and if with a clear and single eye they are seeking simply the truth. But, in order to understand the situation, we need to note a good many other things that enter into this matter of determining the religious path in which people will walk. Now what do we mean by education? Popularly, if a man has been to school, particularly if he is a college graduate, if he can read a little Latin and speak French, and knows something of music, if he has graduated anywhere, he is spoken of as educated. But is that a correct use of language? Are we sure that a man is educated merely because he knows a lot of things or has been through a particular course of study? What does a human education mean? Does it not mean the unfolding, the development of our faculties in such a way that in the intellectual sphere we can come into contact with and possession of the reality of things, the truth? Intellectually, is there any other object of education than to fit a man to find the truth? And yet let me give you a case. Here is a man, I take it as an illustration simply, not because I have anything particular against the Catholic Church any more than against any other body of believers, who has been through a Catholic college, has made himself master of Catholic doctrine, become familiar with theological and ecclesiastical literature; suppose he knows all the languages, or a dozen of them, having them at his fingers' ends. Do you not see that as a truth-seeker in a free world he may not be educated at all? He may be educated, as we say, or trained is the better word, into acceptance of a certain system of traditional thought, that can give no good reason for itself; for his prejudices, his loves and hates may be called into play. He may be trained into the earnest conviction that it is his highest duty to be loyal to a particular set of ideas. Take the way I was educated. I grew up reading the denominational reviews, and the denominational newspapers. I was taught that it was dangerous and wicked to doubt. I must not think freely: that was the one thing I was not permitted to do. I went to a theological school, and had drilled into me year after year that such beliefs, about God and man and Jesus and the Bible and the future world, were unquestionably true, and that I must not look at anything that would throw a doubt upon them. And I was sent out into the world graduated, not as a truth-seeker, but to fight for my system, as a West Point graduate is taught that he must fight for his country without asking any questions. Do you not see that this, which goes under the name of education, instead of fitting a man to find the truth, may distinctly and definitely unfit him, make it harder for him to find any truth except that which is contained in the system which has been drilled into him from his childhood up and year after year? Education, in order to fit a man to be a truth-seeker, must be something different from this merely teaching a man a certain system, a certain set of ideas, and drilling him into the belief that he must defend these ideas against all corners. A good many people, then, who are called educated, are not educated at all. I have had this question asked me repeatedly: If your position is true, here is a college graduate, and here is another; and here is a minister of such a denomination, or a priest of the Catholic Church; why do they not accept your ideas? Do you not see, however, that this so-called education may stand squarely in the way? Now, in the second place, I want to dwell a little on the difficulty of people's getting rid of a theory which possesses their minds, and substituting for it another theory. And I wish you to note that it is not a religious difficulty nor a theological difficulty nor a Baptist difficulty nor a Presbyterian difficulty: it is a human difficulty. There is no body of people on the face of the earth that is large enough to contain all the world's bigotry. It overflows all fences and gets into all enclosures. Discussing the subject a little while ago, by correspondence with a prominent scientific man in New England, I got from him the illustrations which I hold in my hand, tending to set forth how difficult it is for scientific men themselves to get rid of a theory which they have been working for and trying to prove, and substitute for it another theory. I imagine that there may be a physiological basis for the difficulty. I suggest it, at any rate. We say that the mind tends to run in grooves of thought. That means, I suppose, that there is something in the molecular movements of the brain that comes to correspond to a well-trodden pathway. It is easy to walk that path, and it is not easy to get out of it. Let it rain on the top of a hill; and, if you watch the water, you will see that it seeks little grooves that have been worn there by the falling of past rains, and that the little streams obey the scientific law and follow the lines of least resistance. There comes a big shower, a heavy downfall; and perhaps it will wash away the surface and change the beds of these old watercourses, create new ones. So, then, when there comes a deluge of new truth, it washes away the ruts along which people have been accustomed to think; and they are able to reconstruct their theories. Now let me give you some of these scientific illustrations. First, that heat is a mode of motion was proved by Sir Humphry Davy and Count Rumford before 1820. In 1842 Joule, of Manchester, England, proved the quantitative relation between mechanical energy and heat. In 1863 note the dates Tyndall gave a course of lectures on heat as a mode of motion, and was even then sneered at by some scientific men for his temerity. Tait, of Glasgow, was particularly obstreperous. To-day nobody questions it; and we go back to Sir Humphry Davy and Count Rumford for our proofs, too. It was proved scientifically proved then; but it took the world all these years, even the scientific world, to get rid of its prejudices in favor of some other theory, and see the force of the proof. Now, in the second place, it was held originally that light was a series of corpuscles that flew off from a heated surface; but Thomas Young, about the year 1804, demonstrated the present accepted theory of light. But it was fought for years. Only after a long time did the scientific world give up its prejudice in favor of the theory that was propounded by Newton. But to-day we go back to Young, and see that he demonstrated it beyond question. In the third place, take another fact. Between 1830 and 1845 Faraday worked out a theory of electrical and magnetic phenomena. It was proved to be correct. Maxwell, a famous chemist in London, looked over the matter, and persuaded himself that Faraday was right; but nobody paid much attention to either of them; until after a while the scientific world, through the work of its younger men, those least wedded to the old-time beliefs, conceded that it must be true. The Nebular Theory was proved and worked out by Kant more than a hundred and thirty years ago. In 1799 Laplace worked it out again; but it was a long time before it was accepted. And now we go back to Kant and Laplace for our demonstration. Darwin's "Origin of Species" was published in 1859. But it was attacked by scientists as well as theologians on every hand. Huxley even looked at it with a good deal of hesitancy before he accepted it. To-day, however, everybody goes back to the "Origin of Species," and finds the whole thing there, demonstration and all. Lyell published a book on the antiquity of man in 1863. It was twenty- five years before all the scientific men of the world were ready to give up the idea that man had been on the earth more than six or eight thousand years. So we find that it is not theologians only; it is scientists, too, that find it difficult to accept new ideas. I know scientific men among my personal friends who are simply incapable of being hospitable to an idea that would compel them to reconstruct a theory that they have already accepted. Why are not all educated men Unitarians? Why do not scientific men accept demonstrated truth when it is first demonstrated as truth? It puts them to too much trouble. It touches their pride. They do not like to feel that they have thrown away half their lives following an hypothesis that is not capable of being substantiated. Then, in the third place, there are men, and educated men as the world goes, who deliberately decline to study new truth; and they are men in the scientific field and in the religious field. They purposely refuse to look at anything which would tend to disturb their present accepted belief. In my boyhood I used to hear Dr. John O. Fiske, a famous preacher in Maine. He told a friend of mine, in his old age, that he simply refused to read any book that would tend to disturb his beliefs. Professor William G. T. Shedd, one of the most distinguished theologians of this country, a leading Presbyterian divine, published so I am not slandering him by saying it a statement that he did not consider any book written since the seventeenth century worth his reading. And yet we have a new world since the seventeenth century, a new revelation of God and of man. To follow the teaching of the seventeenth century would be to go wrong in almost every conceivable direction. What is the use of paying any attention to the theological or religious opinions of a man who avows an attitude like that? Faraday, to come now to a scientific illustration, so that you will not think I am too hard on theologians, Faraday belonged to one of the most orthodox sects in England; and he used to say deliberately that he kept his religion and his science apart. He says, "When I go into my closet, I lock the door of my laboratory; and, when I go into my laboratory, I lock the door of my closet." He did very wisely to keep them apart; for, if they had got together, there would certainly have been an explosion. Another scientific illustration is Agassiz. Agassiz unconsciously wrought out and developed some of the most wondrous and beautiful proofs of evolution that the world has ever known; and yet he fought evolution to the last day of his life, simply because he had accepted the other theory. And he got it into his head that there was something about evolution that tended to injure religion and degrade man, not a rational objection, not a scientific objection, but a feeling, a prejudice. There is another class of people that I must refer to. Institutions and organizations come into being, created, in the first place, as the embodiment and expression of new and grand truths; and after a Arile their momentum becomes such that the persons who are connected with them cannot control their movements, and these persons become victims of the organizations and institutions to which they belong. So, when a new truth appears, the old organization rolls on like a Juggernaut car, and crushes the life, so far as it is possible, out of everything in its way. Take, for example, and note what a power it is and what an unconscious bribe it is to those who belong to it, the great Anglican Church. A man's ambitions, if he has learning, power, ability, tell him that there is the Archbishopric of Canterbury ahead of him as a possibility. His hopes, the chances of promotion and power, are with the institution. And, then, it is such a tremendous social influence. It is no wonder, then, that men who are not over-strong, who have not the stuff in them out of which heroes are made, should cling to the institution and remain loyal to it, even while they are false to the truth that used to animate it and for which alone any institution ought to exist. Let me give you another illustration. Edward Temple, late Bishop of London, and who is now the Archbishop of Canterbury, had a priest of the established Church come to him and make a confession of holding certain beliefs which he knew were heretical. The archbishop said to him frankly: As Edward Temple, I believe them, I am in sympathy with your views. As the head of the English Church, I must be opposed to them; and the opinions which you hold cannot be tolerated. That is what the influence of a great organization may come to. Let me give you another concrete illustration. Here is our American Bible Society, which publishes and circulates millions of Bibles all over the world. It is obliged, as at present organized, to print and distribute the King James version of the Bible; but there is not a scholar or a minister connected with the organization anywhere who does not know at least, since the revision at any rate that in many important respects the King James version is not an accurate translation of the original, even if that is conceded to be infallible. So that this organization stands to-day in the position of being obliged to circulate all over the world for God's truth any number of teachings that are simply blunders of the translator, of the copyist, or interpolated passages that have come down from the past. So men in every direction become persuaded that they must be loyal to the organization. I know cases where a minister in conversation with a friend has said: So long as I remain a member of this Church, I have got a great institution back of me, and I can accomplish so much socially and in every way on account of it. I know I do not believe half of the creed, but any number of other ministers are in the same box. And so they stay true to the organization, while truth to the truth is sacrificed. One other influence that keeps so many of these old ideas alive or prolongs their existence beyond the natural term is right in here. Any number of men, educated, strong, prominent men, give their countenance and influence to the support of old-time religious organizations because they believe that somehow or other they are serviceable as a police force in the world, they keep people quiet, they help preserve social order. I have had people over and over again say that they believed it would be a great calamity to disturb the Roman Catholic Church, because it keeps so many people quiet. Do you know, friends, I regard this as the worst infidelity that I know of on the face of the earth. It is doubt of God, his ability to lead and manage his world without cheating it. It is doubt of truth, as to whether it is safe for anybody except very wise people, like a few of us! It is doubt of humanity, its capacity to find the truth, and believe in it and live on it. Do you believe that God has made this universe so that it is healthier for the masses to live on a lie than it is for them to live on the truth? Is that your confidence in God? Is that the kind of God you worship? It is not the kind I worship. There is no danger of the ignorant masses of the world getting wise too fast, judging by the experience of the past up to the present time. There is only one thing that is safe; and that is truth. Do you know what the trouble was at the time of the French Revolution? It was not that the people began to reason and think, and lost their faith, as so frequently said by superficial historians: it was that they waked up at last to the idea that the aristocracy and the priesthood had not only been fleecing them financially and keeping them down socially, but had been fooling them religiously, until at last they broke away, having no confidence left in God or priest or educated people or nobility or anything. No wonder they made havoc. If you want to make a river dangerous, dam it up, keep the waters back, until by and by the pressure from the hills and the mountains becomes so great that it can be restricted no longer; and it not only breaks through the dam, but bursts all barriers, floods the country, sweeps away homes, farms, cattle, human beings, towns, cities, leaving ruin in its path. Let rivers flow as God meant them to; and they will be safe. So let the world learn,-- learn gradually, and adapt itself to new truth as it learns, and there will be an even and orderly march of human progress. The danger is in our setting ourselves up as being wiser than God, wiser than the universe, and doling out to the multitude the little fragments of truth that we think are fitted for their digestion. The impertinence of it, and the impiety of it! I must not stop to deal with other reasons which lie in my mind this morning. You can think along other channels for yourselves. I have simply wished to suggest that, in the kind of world we are living in, you may not be sure, at any particular age in history, that a set of ideas is going to be accepted by the multitude merely because they are true; and, because they are not accepted at once, you are not, therefore, to come to the conclusion that they are not true. There never has been a time in the history of the world when the truth was not in the minority. Go back to the time of Jesus: do you not remember how the people asked whether any of the scribes or the Pharisees believed on him? They were ready to accept him if they could go with the crowd; but it never occurred to them to raise the question as to whether it was their duty to go with him while he was alone, as to whether two or three might not represent some higher conception of God, some forward step on the part of humanity. Consider for just a moment, let it be in literature, in art, in government, in ethics, anywhere, find out where the crowd is, and you will find where the truth is not. Disraeli made a very profound remark when he said that a popular opinion was always the opinion which was about to pass away. By the time a notion gets accepted by the crowd, the deeper students are seeing some higher and finer truth towards which they are reaching. The pioneers are always in the minority. The vanguard of an army is never so large as the main body that comes along behind after the way has been laid out for it. "Then to side with Truth is noble when we share her wretched crust." That is Lowell's suggestion, in that famous poem of his. If we care for truth, we shall not wait until it becomes popular. The truth in any direction to-day, if we had the judgment of the world, would be voted down. Christianity would be voted down among the religions; Protestantism would be voted down in Christianity; and the highest and finest thinkers in the Protestant churches would be voted down by the majority of the members. Do not be disturbed, then, or troubled, because you have not the crowd and the shouting accompanying you on your onward march; and remember that there must be something of heroism in this consecration to truth. I wish to quote to you, as bearing on this truth, a wonderfully fine word which I have just come across in a recent number of the Cosmopolitan Magazine, the word of the Hon. Thomas B. Reed, the Speaker of the House of Representatives. He says, "One with God may be a majority; but crucifixion and the fagot may antedate the counting of the votes." But, if it means crucifixion and the fagot, and we claim to be followers of the Nazarene and worthy of him, even for that we shall not shrink. It is our business simply to raise the question, and try to answer it or ourselves, Which way must I go to follow the truth? And that way I must tread, whether it means life or death, whatever the consequences; for the truth-seeker is the only God-seeker. WHERE IS THE EVANGELICAL CHURCH? As you are aware, there are certain churches that have taken the name of Evangelical, thereby, of course, putting forth the claim that in some special or peculiar way they have the gospel in keeping. For "Evangel" is the word translated "gospel," "Evangelist" is a "preacher of the gospel," "Evangelical" is the appropriate name for the church whose ministers preach the gospel. And the word "gospel," as you know, translated, means good news. It is the proclamation of hope, of something that the world has been groping in darkness for, a message that should lift the burden off the human heart, make men stronger to endure, fill them with cheer in the midst of life's difficulties and dangers, and give them a trust with which to walk out into the darkness that lies at the end. A certain section, I say, of the Christian Church has appropriated this name; and by common consent it has been conceded to it. And as usage makes language, and the dictionaries only record the results of popular usage, why, of course, we must confess that this use of words is right. Right in that sense, I say. But I wish to go back of this popular usage this morning, and raise the question as to whether these churches that claim the title are the ones to whom it peculiarly or exclusively belongs. I wish to put forward the claim that we, though the idea is entirely against popular thought, are really the ones who are preaching the gospel of God, and that the liberals of the world come nearer today to proclaiming the actual original gospel of Jesus the Christ than do any other body of Christians in the world. I wish to do this, not in any spirit of antagonism, but simply by way of clear definition, and that we may understand where we are, and may unfalteringly and trustingly and loyally and hopefully go on to do the highest work that was ever committed to human hands. At the outset, though it will necessitate my saying certain things which I have said to you before, I must outline briefly that body of doctrine which goes by the name of "Evangelical." I will not go back two or three hundred years to include in it such dogmas as Foreordination, Election, the Damnation of non-Elect or non-Baptized Infants, though these doctrines still remain in the creeds. I will take what must be considered the simpler and fairer course of confining myself to setting forth those beliefs which are generally accepted, and which are made a part of the creed of the so-called "Evangelical Alliance" that is, an organization including representatives of all the great so-called Evangelical Churches. These beliefs, in brief, are that God created the world perfect in the first place, but that in a very short time it was invaded by the evil powers, and mankind rebelled against the Creator, and became the subjects of the devil as the god of this world. Then man, by thus rebelling against God, lost his intellectual power to discern truth, became mentally unable to discover spiritual truth, to find the divine way in which he ought to walk; and that he became morally incapable, so that, even when the truth was presented to him, he felt an aversion towards it, and was disinclined to accept it. The next point is this being the condition of things that God began to reveal himself to the world, first, by angel messengers, by prophets, by inspired men, and that then at last, through certain chosen mediums, he wrote a book telling men the truth about their condition, about his feeling towards them, about what they ought to do, and the destiny involved in the kind of life they should live here. After the world had been in existence about four thousand years, according to this teaching, and very little headway had been made even among the chosen people, the few that had been selected from the great outside and wandering nations, God himself comes down to earth, by means of a woman specially prepared to be his mother he is born without a human father. He lives, he suffers, he dies. This, after one theory or another, I need not go into them, to make it possible for God to forgive, and to enable him to save those who should accept the terms which he should offer. Then, after his withdrawal from the earth, his Church is organized under the special guidance of the Holy Spirit. Its mission is to proclaim the gospel among all nations. That proclamation has gone on; but after two thousand years not a third of the world has heard the gospel, not a third of the people who walk the planet knows anything about the book that has been written. But they still stumble along in darkness, worshipping anything except the one only and true God. So that this effort up to the present time would strike us, if we judged it as a human device, as being a sad and lamentable failure. The upshot of this, according to the Evangelical creed, is that the great majority of the world is to be permanently lost. Only a few, those who are converted or those becoming members of the true Church, connected with it sacramentally or in some way, only the few are to be saved, and the great majority outcast forever. This, in substance, makes up what has been called the gospel; and those who claim that they are preaching the gospel are preaching these things as true. I am well aware and I would not have anybody suppose that I overlooked it that this creed is undergoing very striking and marked changes, and that a great many of those things which some of us look upon as more objectionable are being left out of sight, and not preached, as they used to be, though they still remain in the creeds. I am aware, for example, that what it is to be orthodox or evangelical has been reduced to very low terms as compared with those which I have just set forth; that is to say, reduced to very low terms in certain quarters. For instance, Dr. Lyman Abbott, of Brooklyn, tells us that we need not believe in the infallibility of the Bible any more; that we need not believe in the old-time Trinity; that we need not believe that Jesus was essentially different from a man; we need not believe in the virgin birth, unless we find it easy to accept it. But the two things which he tells us we must believe in order to be orthodox, or evangelical, are that in some way, though he does not define how, the Bible contains a special message from God to the world, and that in some way Jesus particularly and specially represents God, and that he reveals him to men, so that, when he speaks, he speaks with authority, as representing divine truth. Everlasting Damnation eliminated, Foreordination not referred to, the Trinity transformed, Infallibility no longer insisted on, the humanity of Jesus granted, to be orthodox, according to Dr. Abbott, has become a comparatively simple thing. In my conversations with clergymen of other churches during the past winter I have discovered that there, too, among certain men, the conditions of being orthodox are a great deal simpler than they were a hundred years ago. An Episcopalian tells me it is only necessary to accept the Nicene and the Apostles' Creeds, and that even then one is at liberty to interpret them as he pleases; that this is what constitutes Orthodoxy and makes one evangelical. But this process of eliminating the hard doctrines has not gone on in any authoritative way on the part of the Church itself. There has been no proclamation of any such liberty allowed; and I am not aware that the most of these men have made any public statement in their own churches of these positions. It may be known through personal conversations that they hold these views; and, if they are rendering good service, they may not be disturbed by the church authorities in their positions. So much, then, for a statement as to what constitutes the Evangelical Church, as to what must be the message of the minister who is to preach "the gospel of Christ." Now I wish to call your attention for a moment to another way of looking at these doctrines. I am not to question their truth. I simply wish to ask you to note as to whether, considering them true, we should be inclined to speak of them as good news. Are they a gospel? Can we with gladness proclaim them to men? For example, suppose God, after creating the world, loses control of it, an evil power comes in, his enemy, takes possession of his fair earth, alienates from him the hearts of the only two of his children who are in existence here, and who are to be the parents of a countless race. Suppose that is true. Is it something we would like to believe? Is it good news? Can we call it an integral part of a gospel? Suppose, again, that God writes a book, an infallible book, and gives it to whom? To a few people, to the little company of Jews who lived on that little narrow strip of land on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean. He does not give it to anybody else. He has given, indeed, according to this theory, the Old Testament and the New to Christendom since that day. But think a moment. According to what we know to be true now, man was on this planet for two or three hundred thousand years before God revealed himself at all; and the race went stumbling on and falling in darkness, no light, no hand stretched out to help, no voice speaking out of the silent heavens, the world, apparently, absolutely forgotten, so far as God's truth was concerned. Suppose that, after two or three hundred thousand years, God did give an infallible book to the world. As I had occasion to say a moment ago, comparatively a very small part of his children have heard anything about it. And, then, what is very striking, the proofs of its having come from him are so weak that most of the wisest, the best, the noblest of the world, cannot accept any such claim on its behalf. Is this, if it be true, good news? Would we speak of it as a gospel, something of which to be glad, something to proclaim to mankind as a cheer, a message from on high? Once more, suppose, after the world had been in existence for two or three hundred thousand years, God comes down, incarnates himself, wears a human body, and does what he can to save men. If it is true, in the economy of the divine government, that human souls could be saved in no other way, is that good news? Would we think of it as a gospel to proclaim to mankind, that God himself must suffer, must be outcast, be spit upon, be reviled, be put to death, and that only so could he forgive one of his wandering children, and bring him back to himself? Then, once more, suppose all this to be true, and suppose that, as the outcome of it all, the countless millions of men and women and children that have walked the earth during the last three hundred thousand years, until the Jews received their first light from heaven, suppose that they have been lost: that is a part of this gospel. Suppose that since that time all the nations outside of Christendom have been lost: that is a part of this gospel. Suppose that not only this be true, but that all people in Christendom who have not been members of churches have been lost. Suppose even, as I used to hear it preached when I was a boy, that large numbers of those who were church members were not really children of God, and would be lost. Suppose this most horrible doctrine be true. Is it good news? Could we proclaim it with any heart of courage as a part of the gospel of God? It seems to me, then, that I am bringing no railing accusation when I say that those Churches that claim to be Evangelical are not proclaiming a gospel to the world. But, though this be literally true, they may claim that they are delivering the message of Jesus the Christ, and that, from their point of view, this is relatively a piece of good news, good news, at any rate, to the few who are going to be saved. So I ask you now to turn, while I examine with you for a few moments the essence of the gospel which Jesus proclaimed. Note its terms. Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God, and saying: "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand: repent ye, and believe the gospel;" that is, this proclamation of good news, the coming of God's kingdom. Was this the essential thing in the gospel of Christ? Let me ask you now to look with me for a few moments. You are perfectly well aware of the fact that the Jews cherished a belief in the coming of a Messiah and the establishment of God's kingdom here on earth and among men. You are not so well aware, perhaps, unless you have made a study of it, that a belief like this has not been confined to the Jews. In many other nations a similar expectation has been cherished. We find it, for example, among some of the tribes of our North American Indians. It is world-wide, in other words, in its range. It is no peculiarity of the Jews. But let us confine ourselves a moment to their particular hope. It is a perfectly natural belief. It required no revelation in order for it to grow up. They believed that the God of the world, of the universe, was their God; that they were his chosen people. Do you not see what a necessary corollary would be a belief in their ultimate prosperity and triumph? God would certainly bless and give the kingdom to that people which he had specially selected for his own. And so, as the coming of the kingdom was postponed, they believed that it was because they had not complied with the divine conditions, they had not kept the law or they had not been good, they had not obeyed him. Somehow, they had done wrong; and that was the reason the kingdom so long delayed. Remember another thing. We have come, in this modern time, to place the kingdom away off in another world after the close of this life. The Jews had no such belief about it. They expected it to come right here on this poor little planet of ours; and they expected that a kingdom was to be set up which was not only to place them at the head of humanity, but through them was to bless all mankind. Different thinkers among them held different views, but this in substance was the belief; and they were constantly looking for signs of this imminent revolution which was to make the kingdoms of this world the kingdoms of our God and of his Christ, that is, his Anointed One. John the Baptist preached that this kingdom was coming. But he was imprisoned and beheaded, having come into conflict with the civil authority. Jesus, then, having come from Nazareth, where he had studied and thought and brooded over the divine will, takes up this broken work of John, and begins a proclamation of the gospel; and the one thing which constituted that gospel was: The kingdom of God is at hand, repent and believe; accept this statement. And note that "repent" on the lips of Jesus did not mean what we have been accustomed to associate with it. The New Testament word translated "repent" means change your purpose, change your method of life. You have not been in accord with the truth, you have not been obedient to God; turn about, come into accord with the divine law, become obedient to the divine message. Jesus taught no kingdom in any other world. He believed that the kingdom was to be here. For, even after he had disappeared from the sight of men, and this reflects in the clearest possible way the burden of his message, his disciples expected, not that they were to be transferred to some other planet or into an invisible world to find the kingdom, but that Jesus was to come back, to return in the clouds of heaven, and establish the kingdom here. The kingdom, then, that Jesus preached was a kingdom of righteousness here on this earth, among just the kind of people that we are. And, note, he said, This kingdom of God does not come by observation. You are not to say, Lo here, Lo there, look for wonders. He says, The kingdom of God is within you, or among you. It is translated both ways; and, I suppose, nobody knows which way it ought to be. I believe both. The kingdom of God that Jesus preached is essentially in us. It is also, after it is in a few of us, among us, right here already, so far as it extends, and reaching out its limits and growing as rapidly as men discern it and become obedient to its laws. Now I have been asked a great many times how I can be sure, or practically sure, as to what sayings in the Gospels are really those of Jesus and what are traditional in their authority, what are doubtfully his. I cannot go into a long explanation this morning; but I want to suggest one line of thought. And I do this because I wish it to be the basis of a statement that Jesus has not made any of these things that are to-day labelled "Evangelical" any essential part of his gospel at all. Jesus, for example, does not preach any Garden of Eden or any Fall of Man. Jesus says nothing about any infallible book. Jesus says not a word about any Trinity. He nowhere makes any claim to be God. His doctrine concerning the future is doubtful. But one thing which I wish to insist upon is perfectly clear: the conditions of citizenship in the kingdom of God are the simplest conceivable. He says, Not those that say, Lord, Lord, not those that multiply their services and ceremonies, but those that do the will of my Father shall enter the kingdom. The only condition that Jesus ever established for membership in the kingdom of heaven is simple human goodness, never anything else. I am perfectly well aware that somebody may quote to me, "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; and he that believeth not shall be damned." But the reply to that would be, The acknowledged statement to-day on the part of all competent scholars is that Jesus never uttered those words. They are left out of the Revised Version of the New Testament: they are no authentic part of the story of his life or his teaching. How can we find his words? In the first place there are the great central, luminous truths which Jesus uttered, the fatherhood of God, the brotherhood of men, goodness as the condition of acceptance on the part of God. And, on the theory that he did not contradict himself, we are at liberty to waive one side those statements which grew up under the influence of later tradition, popish or ecclesiastical, and which plainly contradict these. But the main point I have in mind is one which scholars have wrought out under the name of the Triple Tradition. It takes for its central thought, "In the mouth of two or three witnesses every word shall be established." We know that the Gospels grew up through a long process of accretion after a good many years. They were not written or planned by any one person; and, so far as we know, they may not have been written by anybody whose name is traditionally connected with them to-day. If, however, we find that three of the four witnesses agree in reporting that he said or did a certain thing, we feel surer about it than when only one witness reports it. And if two report, why, even then we feel a little more certain than we do when the report is from only one. And yet, of course, the three may have omitted that which only one has recorded, and which is true. But scholars have wrought out along this line what is called the Triple Tradition; that is, they have constructed a complete story of the life and the teaching and the death of Jesus out of the words which are common to three of the gospel writers. All of them tell this same story; and this story of the Triple Tradition has no miraculous conception, it has no resurrection of the body, no ascension into heaven. The miracles are reduced to the very lowest terms, becoming almost natural and easy to be accounted for. In this story Jesus teaches none of the things of which I have been speaking. I say, then, that along the lines of the very best critical scholarship, coming as near to the teaching of Jesus as we possibly can to-day, we are warranted in saying that this which has usurped the name of the gospel of Christ is not only not good news, but it is not the news which Jesus brought and preached. As has been said a good many times, it is a gospel about Christ instead of being the gospel of Christ. I am ready now to make the claim that we liberals of the modern world are the ones who come nearer to preaching the gospel of Christ than any other part of the so-called Christian Church. For what is it that we preach? We preach that the kingdom of God is at hand. We preach that there is not a spot on the face of the earth where we are not at the foot of a ladder like that which Jacob saw in his dream, and which leads up to the very throne of the Almighty. Jesus taught that the kingdom of God might begin anywhere and at any time in any human heart. Note what Matthew Arnold has called the secret and the method of Jesus. He says, The secret of Jesus is that he who selfishly seeks his life shall lose it: he who throws it away for good and God finds it. Do we need to go very deeply into human life to discover the profound truth of that saying? Seek all over the world for good and happiness, and forget to look within, and you do not find it. The kingdom of heaven is within. It is in the spirit, the temper of the heart, the disposition, the life. And the secret of it is in cultivating love and truth and tenderness and care, those things which bring us into intimate connection with which we mean when we say, Be unselfish, and that in doing this we find our own souls. For the man who gives out of himself love and tenderness and care, of necessity cultivates the qualities of love and tenderness and care; and those are the ones which are the essence of all soul-building. And he who looks outside for the greatest things of life misses them; while he who looks within, and cultivates the spirit, finds God and happiness and truth. This gospel, then, that the kingdom of God is at hand, is always ready to come, is the gospel which we proclaim. And now I wish to extend that idea a little. The form in which Jesus held his dream of human good has changed in the process of the centuries. We no longer expect a miraculous revelation of a kingdom coming out of the heavens to abide on earth. The form of it is changed; but the essence of it we hold still, the same perfect condition of men here on earth and in the future which Jesus held and proclaimed. Now let me hint to you a few of the elements that make up this hope for man which we liberals proclaim everywhere as the gospel, the good news of the coming kingdom of God. In the first place, we proclaim the possibility of human conquest over this earth. What do I mean by that? I mean that man is able and he is showing that ability ultimately to control the forces of this planet, and make them his servants. Within the last seventy-five years this increasing conquest has changed the face of the planet. We now use water power not only, but steam, electricity, magnetism. All these secret forces that thrill from planet to planet and sun to sun we use as our household and factory drudges, our every-day servants. And it needs only a little imagination, looking along the lines of past progress, to see the day when man shall stand king of the earth. He shall make all these forces serve him. I believe that we have only just begun this conquest. Already the wonders about us eclipse the wonders of novelist and dreamer; and yet we have only begun to develop them. What follows from this? When we have completed the conquest of the earth, when we have discovered God's laws of matter and force and are able to keep them, it means the abolition of all unnecessary pain, unnecessary pain, I say; for all that pain which is not beneficent, which is not inherent in the nature of things, is remedial. And we preach the gospel, the coming of God's kingdom when pain shall be abolished, and shall pass away. Another step: We preach the gospel of the abolition of disease. We have already, in the few civilized centres of the world, made the old epidemics simply impossible. They are easily controlled. Nearly every one of those that rise to threaten Europe and America to-day come from the religious, ignorant, wild fanaticism of Asia, beyond the range of our civilized control. The conditions of disease are discoverable; and the day will come when, barring accidents here and there, well-born people may calmly expect to live out their natural term of years. We preach this gospel, then, of the kingdom of God in which disease shall no more exist. We preach a gospel that promises a time when war shall be no more. At present wars are now and then inevitable; but they are brutal, they are unspeakably horrible. And how any one who uses the sympathetic imagination can rejoice, not over the victory, but over the destruction of life and property which the victory entails, I cannot understand. We have reached a time when civilized man no longer thinks he must right his wrong with his fists or a club or a knife or a pistol. On the part of individuals we call this a reversion to barbarism. The time will come, and we are advancing towards it, when it will be considered just as much a reversion to barbarism on the part of families, states, nations, and when we shall substitute hearts and brains for bruises and bullets in the settlement of the world's misunderstandings. We preach, then, a gospel of the coming of the kingdom in which there shall be no more war. And then life under the fair heavens will be sweet. There shall be no more hunger in that kingdom. To-day see what confronts us, bread riots in Spain and in Italy, thousands of people hungry for food. And yet, if we would give ourselves to the development of the resources of this planet instead of to their destruction, this fair earth could support a hundred times its present population in plenty and in peace. There shall be no more famine in that kingdom the gospel of which we preach. Then, when men have lived out their lives, learned their lessons, and stand where the shadow grows thicker, so that we try in vain to see beyond, what then? We preach a gospel of life, of an eternal hope. We believe that death, instead of being the end, is only a transition, the beginning really of the higher and the grander life. We cannot look through the gateway of the shadow; but we catch a gleam of light beyond that means an eternal day, when the sun shall no more go down. This we believe. And we do not partition that world off into two parts, the immense majority down where the smoke of their torment ascendeth forever, and only a few in a city gold-paved and filled with the light of peace. Rather we believe it is a human life there just as here, that we are under the law of cause and effect, that salvation is not a magical thing, that we are saved only in so far as we come into accord with the divine law and the divine life. And, if anybody says we preach an easy gospel because we eliminate an arbitrary hell, let him remember we preach a harder gospel, a more difficult salvation, not a salvation that can be purchased by a wave of emotion or by the touch of priestly fingers, a salvation that must be wrought out through co-working with God in the building of human character, a salvation that is being right. This is our gospel; but it is a gospel of eternal and universal hope, because we believe that every single soul is under doom to be saved sometime, somewhere. We preach the inevitable results of law-breaking, are they to last one year, five, a hundred, a thousand, a million, ten millions? There is no possibility of heaven except as people are in perfect accord with the divine law and the divine life; for that is what heaven means. You can no more get heaven out of a disordered character than you can get music out of a disordered piano. This salvation which we preach is the constituent element of life. You cannot have a circle if you break the conditions of a circle. You cannot have a river if you break the conditions the very existence of which constitutes a river. So of anything in God's natural world. There are certain essential things that go to make these what they are. So heaven, righteousness, happiness, the constituent elements of these are right thinking, right feeling, right acting, obedience to the laws of God, which make them possible. We believe that God, through pain, through suffering, down through the winding ways of darkness and ignorance, one year, a million years, must pursue the soul of any one of his children until that child learns that suffering follows wrong, and must follow it, and that God himself cannot help it, and so, learning the lesson, by and by turns, comes back, and says: Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am not worthy to be thy son: make me at least as one of thy hired servants. And then the love that has pursued all the way, that has been in the light and that has been in the dark, shall go out to meet him, and fall on his neck in loving embrace, and rejoice that he who was dead is alive again, and he who was lost is found. This is the gospel we preach, a gospel of God's eternal, boundless love, the good news that every human being is God's child; that here on earth, co-operating with God and discovering his laws, we may begin the creation of his kingdom now; that we may broaden and enlarge it until it encloses the world; and that it reaches out into the limitless ages of the future. And this, as I said, is the gospel of the Christ, changed in its form, if you please, but one in its essence; for he came, preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God, and saying: The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand. Change your purpose, accept the message, and come into accord with the divine life. This is the gospel that the Christ preached: this is the gospel we preach to-day. Do I make, then, an extraordinary claim when I say that we are the Evangelical Church, that the church which preaches the gospel is here? 
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25894	----	produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) The Spirit Proper to the Times. A SERMON PREACHED IN KING'S CHAPEL, BOSTON, SUNDAY, MAY 12, 1861. BY JAMES WALKER, D.D. PRINTED AT THE REQUEST OF THE WARDENS OF THE SOCIETY. BOSTON: PRESS OF GEO. C. RAND & AVERY, NO. 3 CORNHILL. 1861. SERMON. "With such sacrifices God is well pleased."--_Hebrews_ xiii. 16. I am to speak of public spirit, as manifested in a willingness to make sacrifices for the public good. The necessity for making sacrifices would seem to be founded in this: as we cannot have every thing, we must be willing to sacrifice some things in order to obtain or secure others. Wicked men recognize and act upon this principle. Can you not recall more than one person in your own circle of acquaintances who is sacrificing his health, his good name, his domestic comfort, to vicious indulgences? Worldly people recognize and act upon this principle. Look at that miser: he is hoarding up his thousands and his tens of thousands, but in order to do so, is he not sacrificing every thing which makes life worth having? It is a mistake to suppose that religion, or morality, or the public necessities, ever call upon us to make greater sacrifices than those which men are continually making to sin and the world, to fashion and fame, to "the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life." In times of ease, and abundance, and tranquillity, the public takes care of itself. There are few sacrifices on the part of individuals for the public good, because there are few occasions for such sacrifices. They are not made because not called for, because not needed. Moreover, private benevolence is apt at such times to become less active, and, for the same reason, that is to say, because less of it is required. This state of things is seized upon by those who are eager to put the worst possible construction on human nature and human conduct, as evidence of extreme degeneracy. How often are we to be told that our present troubles are sent upon us in order to lift the whole community out of the mire of money-getting propensities, where every thing like public spirit was in danger of being swallowed up and lost? I protest against this wholesale abuse of what has been,--at best, a gross exaggeration. The whole truth in this matter is told in a few words. By constitution, by habit, by circumstances, our people are intensely active; and this activity, for want of other objects, has been turned into the channels of material prosperity. If, therefore, you merely affirm their excessive eagerness in acquisition, I grant it; but if, not content with this, you go on to charge them with being niggards in expending what they have acquired, I deny it, emphatically, utterly. Read the history of what has been done in this commonwealth, in this city, during the last twenty-five years for humanity, for education, for science and the arts, for every form of public use or human need, and then say, if you can, that public spirit has been dying out. Our people have never been otherwise than public spirited, and hence the promptness and unanimity of their response to this new call to public duty. Hence also our confidence in it,--not as an excitement merely, which a day has made, and a day may unmake, but as an expression of character. Let us, however, be just to the excitement itself, considered as the sudden and spontaneous uprising of a whole community to sustain the government. We need demonstrations of this kind, from time to time, to reassure us that all men have souls. It is worth a great deal merely as an experiment, on a large scale, to prove that the moral and social instincts are as much a part of human nature as the selfish instincts. But he must be a superficial observer who can see nothing in this vast movement but the play of instincts. It is a great moral force. Not a little of what passes for loyalty or patriotism in other countries is blind impulse, growing out of mere attachment to the soil, or the power of custom, or a helpless feeling of dependence on things as they are. "If my father in his grave could hear of this war," said a Spanish peasant, "his bones would not rest." Yet what earthly interest, what intelligible concern had Spanish peasants in the rivalships and struggles of princes who thought of nothing but their own or their family aggrandizement. Of such loyalty, of such patriotism, there never has been much in this country, and there never will be. The loyal and patriotic States have risen up as one man to maintain the government, because the government represents the great ideas of order and liberty. It is not an excitement of irritation merely, or of wounded vanity, or of a selfish and discomfited ambition. It is, as I have said, a great moral force, a reverence for order and liberty; an excitement, if you will have it so, but an excitement resting on solid and intelligible principle, and one, therefore, which trial and sacrifice will be likely to convert into earnest and solemn purpose. I suppose some are full of concern as to the effect which trial and sacrifice will really have on this new outbreak of public spirit. They fear that suffering for our principles will abate our confidence in them, or at least our interest in them, and so the ardor will die away. So doubtless, it will in some cases, for every community has its representatives of "the seed that was sown on stony ground"; but it will be the exception and not the rule. Human nature, if it has fair play, will never lead a single individual to think less of a privilege or blessing, merely because it has cost more. When has religion interested men the most, and the most generally? Precisely at those times when men were religious at the greatest sacrifices. Indeed, it is on this principle that we explain the decay of a proper love of country among us for the last twenty or thirty years; it is because we have had so little to do for our country. A foreign war, even a famine or a pestilence, if it had been sufficiently severe, would have saved us from our present trouble and humiliation. So long as the people think and feel together, they hold each other up, and the sacrifices in which they express their public spirit, instead of wearing it out, will purify it and keep it alive. And this is not all. From the language sometimes used in speaking of sacrifices for the public good, it might almost be supposed that the making of them is simply painful, simply distressing. But is it so? Of course both instinct and duty impel us to look out for ourselves; but is it not equally true that both instinct and duty impel us to help one another, and provide for the common weal? A generous and noble deed,--simply painful, simply distressing! I will not deny that a long life of selfishness, meanness, and servility may bring here and there one to look on things in this light, but not until he is, in the language of Scripture, "without natural affection." "Public spirit," so an eminent jurist has defined it, "is the whole body of those affections which unite men's hearts to the commonwealth." What I insist upon is, that these are real and natural affections, and that, in acting them out, we find a real and natural satisfaction. Who will say that the happiest moments of his existence have not been those in which he was conscious of living for others, and not for himself? There are many things in the present aspect of our public affairs to fill us with regret and anxiety, but a gleam of light shines through the cloud. Every man and woman and child will be moved to act more unselfishly, more nobly; life will cost more, but it will also be worth more. It is extremely difficult to do justice to this human nature of ours,--capable at once of such mean and little things, of such noble and great things. There is, however, one distinction which all, I suppose, will accord to it: I mean its tendency to rise up and meet great emergencies. In every soul that lives there is an untold amount of latent energy and public spirit which only waits for the occasion to call it forth. Read the history of the Netherlands,--a people made up, for the most part, of merchants and manufacturers, of traders and artisans, growing rich and apparently thinking of little else. A blow is struck at the free institutions which they had inherited from their ancestors; immediately a new spirit reveals itself, and all Europe rings with the story of their heroic daring and suffering. The sacrifices which the country asks for in time of war are those of _property, labor, and life_; and she does not ask in vain. We are continually reminded that this rebellion has taken place at a moment of great national prosperity, to blast it all. The sacrifices of _property_, in a thousand ways, must be immense; every man, however, from his diminished fortune, is "ready to distribute," and "not grudgingly or of necessity." His public spirit makes him love to give. I doubt whether it is common for rich men to think any better of themselves merely because they are rich; but if they can make their riches, and their financial skill, available to save the State, they will think better of themselves, and they will have a right to do so. There is a natural jealousy of wealth, especially when it takes the form of a passion for accumulation, which demagogues and fanatics know how to use for bad ends. One of the incidental benefits resulting from a great national struggle is, that all these social misunderstandings and heart-burnings are suspended, are healed. The people see and feel and acknowledge that a real title to nobility is found, not in wealth itself, but in wealth generously and nobly bestowed. Others are manifesting their public spirit by sacrifices of _time_ and _labor_. And here I wish I could find fit terms in which to acknowledge the services and sufferings of women. You have heard of the Spartan mother equipping her son for battle, and giving him, last of all, the shield, with the brief and stern farewell, "With it or on it." We expect no such stoicism now, but we expect what is better. We expect that Christian mothers, with hearts bleeding for their country, and bleeding for their children, will say, "It is the will of God that they should go," and, furthermore, that they will go, having always been taught at home that there are many things worse than death. And then how many fingers are busily at work in all classes, rich and poor alike, to provide for the comfort of those who go? They even ask for the privilege of tending the sick and wounded. How many, brought up in ease and affluence, would follow in the steps of her whose tender voice, the very rustle of whose dress by the bedside of the dying soldier was as a glimpse of heaven. I have heard men call this "romance." But is it well, or right, or tolerable, in times like these, to look round for side motives, when the motive avowed is reasonable and probable? I believe, as I believe I live, that many who never knew what it is to work before, are ready to thank God for the chance they now have to live to some purpose. But will our men _fight_? There is no denying that this word sounds disagreeably in a Christian discourse; still, I have no misgivings in respect to it,--no extravagances to take back; not the beginning of a doubt but that there are wars which, on one side at least, are necessary, and just, and holy. The Bible contains no express and unqualified prohibition of war; neither can such prohibition be said to be intimated or implied in any text or in the general tenor of Scripture, without making it subversive, at the same time, of civil government. Besides, I remember that the first person not a Jew, in whose favor our Lord wrought a miracle, was a Roman centurion; and that the first person not a Jew admitted into the Christian church, was also a Roman centurion; and not a syllable is said against their calling, neither is there a shadow of evidence that they ever changed it. Undoubtedly it is the legitimate and certain tendency of the spirit of the gospel, as it is more and more diffused in the world, to introduce universal peace; but the spirit of the gospel acts from within outwardly, and not from without inwardly. Thus the stop to be put to war is to be expected, not so much by chaining down those irrepressible instincts which lead men to resist wrong, as by eradicating the disposition to do wrong. Wars will cease when all men are Christians, and perfect Christians; but this will not be to-day nor to-morrow. Accordingly, I am not surprised that the call to arms has been responded to with such enthusiasm,--or that it is sustained by the whole moral and religious sentiment of the community. Men are ready to offer up not only their money and their labor, but also their lives. Are you afraid that your sons and brothers will be cowards merely because they are not duelists? because they have never been engaged in a street-fight? because prayers were made at their departure? or because they have carried their bibles with them? Did Cromwell's soldiers flee before the cavaliers because they were sober and God-fearing men? Our people have no love for fighting, as a pastime; let it, however, become a serious business, and they will show that their veins are full of the blood that flowed so freely in other days. These are some of the ways in which a people may manifest their public spirit, and in which our people are manifesting it now. "With such sacrifices God is well pleased." I have given a definition of public spirit from the jurists, but I like still better the Bible definition. In the words of the prophet, "They helped every one his neighbor, and every one said to his brother, Be of good courage." In looking back on what has been said, I find I have not spoken against anybody, not even against our enemies. Perhaps we have had enough of invective; at any rate the pulpit may spare it. God is my witness, I feel no vindictive resentment, no bitter hostility against those who have been swept away by this terrible delusion. Moreover, I confess to being greatly moved by the circumstance that in some respects what is true of us is true also of them. They seem to be of one mind; their religious men appeal with confidence to the righteous Judge; their women are working day and night to help forward the cause. If it were a mere question of interest, or passion, or prejudice between us and them, it might be said that one side is as likely to be self-deceived as the other. But it is not. By striking at the principles of all constitutional and free government, and this too avowedly for the purpose of founding society on the servitude of an inferior race, on whose toil the more favored races are to live, they have put themselves in opposition to the settled convictions and the moral sense of good men all over the world. To the student of history it is no new thing that a whole community should be given over "to believe a lie,"--not the less mad, because all mad together. The process by which this state of things is brought about is always substantially the same. Egotism, vanity, disappointed ambition, sectional jealousies, a real or supposed interest or expediency induce them to _wish_ that a wrong course were the right one. They try to convince themselves that it is so, and all such efforts to sophisticate the conscience, if persisted in, are _punished by entire success_. The spectacle does not inspire me with hate; it fills me with wonder and profound melancholy. Do these men think that by altering their opinion of right they can alter the nature of things, or make wrong come out right in the great and solemn issues which are before us? We stand where their own great men stood in the best days of the republic. As regards the leading rights and interests at stake, our consciences are but the echo of the conscience of the Christian world. The fathers of the Revolution, one and all, are looking down with sorrow and indignation on this attempt to break up and destroy their work. Nevertheless, it can do no good to begin by overvaluing ourselves, or undervaluing our enemies. We know that the behests of a righteous Providence will be accomplished, but we do not know in what way. It is more than probable that in the troubles and distractions which have come upon the country we ourselves have something to answer for. For this reason reverses and humiliations may be in store for us, before we are accounted worthy to carry out the Divine judgments. But there can be no doubt as to the end. A struggle has been forced upon us by a doomed people, if the laws of nature do not fail, if there is any meaning in the moral sentiments of mankind, or any justice in heaven. * * * * * 
11981	----	_The World's Great Sermons_ VOLUME I BASIL TO CALVIN _By Grenville Kleiser_ * * * * * POWER & PERSONALITY IN SPEAKING _$1.25, net; by mail, $1.40_ HOW TO SPEAK IN PUBLIC _$1.25, net; by mail, $1.40_ HUMOROUS HITS, &C. _$1.00, net; by mail, $1.11_ * * * * * FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY NEW YORK AND LONDON THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS Compiled By GRENVILLE KLEISER Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in Public," Etc. With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other Theologians INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D. Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University IN TEN VOLUMES VOLUME. I--BASIL TO CALVIN Copyright, 1908, By Funk & Wagnalls Company _Printed in the United States of America_ PREFACE The aim in preparing this work has been to bring together the best examples of the products of the pulpit through the Christian centuries, and to present these masterpieces in attractive and convenient form. It is believed that they will be found valuable as instruction to ministers of to-day. They should also be helpful to others who, tho not preachers, yet seek reading of this kind for the upbuilding of personal character and for strengthening their Christian faith. The sermons have been chosen in some cases for their literary and rhetorical excellences, but in every case for their helpfulness in solving some of the problems of Christian living. No two persons are likely to agree upon "the best" of anything, and readers will probably wish in particular instances that some other clergymen or sermons had been included. It is confidently believed, however, that the list here given is fairly representative of the preaching that characterized the age to which each sermon respectively belongs. While some of the sermons of the early centuries may not seem exactly fitted to modern needs, it is thought that those presented will repay careful perusal, since they each contain a distinct message for later generations. Moreover, a comparison extending over the whole field of sermonic literature, such as the preacher may make with this collection before him, should prove most valuable as showing what progress and changes have come over homiletic matter and methods. Such a comparison should in fact throw much light on the spirit and conditions of various homiletic periods. In choosing sermons by living preachers considerable difficulty has been found, not only in deciding upon sermons, but upon preachers. The list might have been extended indefinitely. Whenever possible the preacher, when living, has himself been consulted as to what he considered his most representative sermon. Thanks are due, and are hereby acknowledged, to numerous clergymen, publishers, librarians, and others who have generously assisted the compiler in this undertaking. Most grateful acknowledgment is also made to the Rev. Epiphanius Wilson and the Rev. W.C. Stiles for valuable editorial assistance. GRENVILLE KLEISER. _New York City, October, 1908._ INTRODUCTION Collections of sermons by noted preachers of different periods are not an altogether uncommon contribution to literature. Italy, Germany, Holland, France, Great Britain and the United States have in this way furnished copious illustrations of the gifts of their illustrious preachers. Such treasures are found in the Latin and even in the Greek Church. Protestant communions especially, in line with the supreme significance which they attach to the work of the pulpit, have thus sought to magnify the calling and to perpetuate the memory and the influence of their distinguished sons. Still more comprehensive attempts have been made to collate the products of representative preachers in different Protestant communions, and thus to bring into prominence various types of sermonic literature. It is in this way that the Christian world has come to know its pulpit princes and to value their achievements. The collection contained in the volumes before us is, however, more varied and comprehensive, reaching as it does from the fourth to the twentieth century, than any collection known to the writer. In the selection Professor Kleiser has brought to his task a personal knowledge of homiletic literature that is the product of much observation and study during many years, and an enthusiasm for his work that has been fostered by close intercourse in professional service with preachers and theological students. He has had the assistance also of men whose acquaintance with homiletic literature is very extensive, whose critical judgments are sound and reliable and who may be regarded as experts in this branch of knowledge. These volumes, therefore, may be accepted as a judiciously selected collection of sermons by many of the most notable preachers of the ancient and modern Christian world. Their value as illustrating varieties of gift, diversities of method, racial, national and ecclesiastical peculiarities, and above all progress in the science and art of preaching, may well be recognized even by a generation that is likely to regard anything that is more than twenty-four hours old as obsolete. LEWIS O. BRASTOW. _Yale University, New Haven, Conn., October, 1908._ CONTENTS VOLUME I PREFACE INTRODUCTION BASIL (329-379). The Creation of the World CHRYSOSTOM (347-407). Excessive Grief at the Death of Friends AUGUSTINE (354-430). The Recovery of Sight by the Blind WYCLIF (1324-1384). Christ's Real Body Not in the Eucharist SAVONAROLA (1452-1498). The Ascension of Christ LUTHER (1483-1546). The Method and Fruits of Justification LATIMER (1485-1555). On Christian Love MELANCHTHON (1497-1560). The Safety of the Virtuous KNOX (1505-1572). The First Temptation of Christ CALVIN (1509-1564). Enduring Persecution for Christ BASIL THE CREATION OF THE WORLD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Basil, bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia, and styled "The Great," was the founder of Eastern monasticism, defender of the Nicene doctrines and doctor of the Church. He was born at Caesarea in 329, and was thoroughly educated in all that a teacher like Libanius could impart at Rome, and Himerius at Constantinople. Returning home, he plunged into the pleasures of social life, but was induced by his sister to visit the hermits of Syria, Palestine and Egypt. Attracted during his travels to the religious life, he secluded himself in a lonely spot in inclement Pontus. During his monastic life of seven years (357-364) he formulated the monastic rule still observed by Eastern monks. Ordained presbyter in 364, he labored in founding religious institutions of various kinds. He attracted notice by his growing Nicene predilections, and was elected bishop of his native town (370) and virtual primate of Asia Minor. His conduct in dealing with the Arians was uncompromising yet conciliating. As a theologian he stands next to his brother Gregory and to Athanasius, but he excels them both in the literary charm and variety of his Greek style. He died in 379. BASIL 329-379 THE CREATION OF THE WORLD _The earth was without form and void._--Gen. i, 2. In the few words which have occupied us this morning we have found such a depth of thought that we despair of penetrating farther. If such is the forecourt of the sanctuary, if the portico of the temple is so grand and magnificent, if the splendor of its beauty thus dazzles the eyes of the soul, what will be the holy of holies? Who will dare to try to gain access to the innermost shrine? Who will look into its secrets? To gaze into it is indeed forbidden us, and language is powerless to express what the mind conceives. However, since there are rewards, and most desirable ones, reserved by the just Judge for the intention alone of doing good, do not let us hesitate to continue our researches. Altho we may not attain to the truth, if, with the help of the Spirit, we do not fall away from the meaning of Holy Scripture, we shall not deserve to be rejected, and with the help of grace, we shall contribute to the edification of the Church of God. "The earth," says Holy Scripture, "was without form and void"--_i.e._, invisible and unfinished. The heavens and the earth were created together. How, then, is it that the heavens are perfect whilst the earth is still unformed and incomplete? In one word, what was the unfinished condition of the earth and for what reason was it invisible? The fertility of the earth is its perfect finishing; growth of all kinds of plants, the up-springing of tall trees, both productive and unfruitful, flowers' sweet scents and fair colors, and all that which, a little later, at the voice of God came forth from the earth to beautify her, their universal mother. As nothing of all this yet existed, Scripture is right in calling the earth "without form." We could also say of the heavens that they were still imperfect and had not received their natural adornment, since at that time they did not shine with the glory of the sun and of the moon, and were not crowned by the choirs of the stars. These bodies were not yet created. Thus you will not diverge from the truth in saying that the heavens also were "without form." The earth was invisible for two reasons: it may be because man, the spectator, did not yet exist, or because, being submerged under the waters which overflowed the surface, it could not be seen, since the waters had not yet been gathered together into their own places, where God afterward collected them and gave them the name of sea. What is invisible? First of all, that which our fleshly eye can not perceive--our mind, for example; then that which, visible in its nature, is hidden by some body which conceals it, like iron in the depths of the earth. It is in this sense that the earth, in that it was hidden under the waters, was still invisible. However, as light did not yet exist, and as the earth lay in darkness because of the obscurity of the air above it, it should not astonish us that for this reason Scripture calls it "invisible." But the corrupters of the truth, who, incapable of submitting their reason to Holy Scripture, distort at will the meaning of the Holy Scriptures, pretend that these words mean matter. For it is matter, they say, which from its nature is without form and invisible--being by the conditions of its existence without quality and without form and figure. The Artificer submitting it to the working of His wisdom clothed it with a form, organized it, and thus gave being to the visible world. If the matter is uncreated, it has a claim to the same honors as God, since it must be of equal rank with Him. Is this not the summit of wickedness that utter chaos, without quality, without form or shape, ugliness without configuration, to use their own expression, should enjoy the same prerogatives as He who is wisdom, power, and beauty itself, the Creator and the Demiurge of the universe enjoys? This is not all. If the matter is so great as to be capable of being acted on by the whole wisdom of God, it would in a way raise its hypostasis to an equality with the inaccessible power of God, since it would be able to measure by itself all the extent of the divine intelligence. If it is insufficient for the operations of God, then we fall into a more absurd blasphemy, since we condemn God for not being able, on account of the want of matter, to finish His own works. The resourcelessness of human nature has deceived these reasoners. Each of our crafts is exercised upon some special matter--the art of the smith upon iron, that of the carpenter on wood. In all there is the subject, the form and the work which results from the form. Matter is taken from without--art gives the form--and the work is composed at the same time of form and of matter. Such is the idea that they make for themselves of the divine work. The form of the world is due to the wisdom of the supreme Artificer; matter came to the Creator from without; and thus the world results from a double origin. It has received from outside its matter and its essence, and from God its form and figure. They thus come to deny that the mighty God has presided at the formation of the universe, and pretend that he has only brought a crowning contribution to a common work; that he has only contributed some small portion to the genesis of beings; they are incapable, from the debasement of their reasonings, of raising their glances to the height of truth. Here, below, arts are subsequent to matter--introduced into life by the indispensable need of them. Wool existed before weaving made it supply one of nature's imperfections. Wood existed before carpentering took possession of it, and transformed it each day to supply new wants and made us see all the advantages derived from it, giving the oar to the sailor, the winnowing-fan to the laborer, the lance to the soldier. But God, before all those things which now attract our notice existed, after casting about in His mind and determining to bring into being that which had no being, imagined the world such as it ought to be, and created matter in harmony with the form which He wished to give it. He assigned to the heavens the nature adapted for the heavens, and gave to the earth an essence in accordance with its form. He formed, as he wished, fire, air, and water, and gave to each the essence which the object of its existence required. Finally he welded all the diverse parts of the universe by links of indissoluble attachment and established between them so perfect a fellowship and harmony that the most distant, in spite of their distance, appeared united in one universal sympathy. Let those men, therefore, renounce their fabulous imaginations, who in spite of the weakness of their argument, pretend to measure a power as incomprehensible to man's reason as it is unutterable by man's voice. God created the heavens and the earth, but not only one-half of each; He created all the heavens and all the earth, creating the essence with the form. For He is not an inventor of figures, but the Creator even of the essence of beings. Further, let them tell us how the efficient power of God could deal with the passive nature of matter, the latter furnishing the matter without form, the former possessing the science of the form without matter, both being in need of each other; the Creator in order to display his art, matter in order to cease to be without form and to receive a form. But let us stop here and return to our subject. "The earth was invisible and unfinished." In saying "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth" the sacred writer passed over many things in silence--water, air, fire, and the results from them, which, all forming in reality the true complement of the world, were, without doubt made at the same time as the universe. By this silence history wishes to train the activity of our intelligence, giving it a weak point for starting, to impel it to the discovery of the truth. Thus, we are told of the creation of water; but, as we are told that the earth was invisible, ask yourself what could have covered it and prevented it from being seen? Fire could not conceal it. Fire brightens all about it, and spreads light rather than darkness around. No more was it air that enveloped the earth. Air by nature is of little density and transparent. It receives all kinds of visible objects and transmits them to the spectators. Only one supposition remains: that which floated on the surface of the earth was water, the fluid essence which had not yet been confined to its own place. Thus the earth was not only invisible; it was still incomplete. Even to-day excessive damp is a hindrance to the productiveness of the earth. The same cause at the same time prevents it from being seen and from being complete, for the proper and natural adornment of the earth is its completion: corn waving in the valleys, meadows green with grass and rich with many-colored flowers, fertile glades and hilltops shaded by forests. Of all this nothing was yet produced; the earth was in travail with it in virtue of the power that she had received from the Creator. But she was waiting for the appointed time and the divine order to bring forth. "Darkness was upon the face of the deep." A new source for fables and most impious imaginations may be found by distorting the sense of these words at the will of one's fancies. By "darkness" these wicked men do not understand what is meant in reality--air not illumined, the shadow produced by the interposition of a body, or finally a place for some reason deprived of light. For them "darkness" is an evil power, or rather the personification of evil, having his origin in himself in opposition to, and in perpetual struggle with, the goodness of God. If God is light, they say, without any doubt the power which struggles against Him must be darkness, "darkness" not owing its existence to a foreign origin, but an evil existing by itself. "Darkness" is the enemy of souls, the primary cause of death, the adversary of virtue. The words of the prophet, they say in their error, show that it exists and that it does not proceed from God. From this what perverse and impious dogmas have been imagined! What grievous wolves, tearing the flock of the Lord, have sprung from these words to cast themselves upon souls! Is it not from hence that have come forth Marcions and Valentinuses and the detestable heresy of the Manicheans which you may, without going far wrong, call the putrid humor of the churches? O man, why wander thus from the truth and imagine for thyself that which will cause thy perdition? The word is simple and within the comprehension of all. "The earth was invisible." Why? Because the "deep" was spread over its surface. What is "the deep?" A mass of water of extreme depth. But we know that we can see many bodies through clear and transparent water. How, then, was it that no part of the earth appeared through the water? Because the air which surrounded it was still without light and in darkness. The rays of the sun, penetrating the water, often allow us to see the pebbles which form the bed of the river, but in a dark night it is impossible for our glance to penetrate under the water. Thus, these words, "the earth was invisible," are explained by those that follow; "the deep" covered it and itself was in darkness. Thus the deep is not a multitude of hostile powers, as has been imagined; nor "darkness" an evil sovereign force in enmity with good. In reality two rival principles of equal power, if engaged without ceasing in a war of mutual attacks, will end in self-destruction. But if one should gain the mastery it would completely annihilate the conquered. Thus, to maintain the balance in the struggle between good and evil is to represent them as engaged in a war without end and in perpetual destruction, where the opponents are at the same time conquerors and conquered. If good is the stronger, what is there to prevent evil from being completely annihilated? But if that be the case, the very utterance of which is impious, I ask myself how it is that they themselves are not filled with horror to think that they have imagined such abominable blasphemies. It is equally impious to say that evil has its origin from God; because the contrary can not proceed from its contrary. Life does not engender death; darkness is not the origin of light; sickness is not the maker of health. In the changes of conditions there are transitions from one condition to the contrary; but in genesis each being proceeds from its like and from its contrary. If, then, evil is neither uncreated nor created by God, from whence comes its nature? Certainly, that evil exists no one living in the world will deny. What shall we say, then? Evil is not a living animated essence: it is the condition of the soul opposed to virtue, developed in the careless on account of their falling away from good. Do not, then, go beyond yourself to seek for evil, and imagine that there is an original nature of wickedness. Each of us--let us acknowledge it--is the first author of his own vice. Among the ordinary events of life, some come naturally, like old age and sickness; others by chance, like unforeseen occurrences, of which the origin is beyond ourselves, often sad, sometimes fortunate--as, for instance, the discovery of a treasure when digging a well, or the meeting of a mad dog when going to the market-place. Others depend upon ourselves; such as ruling one's passions, or not putting a bridle on one's pleasures; the mastery of anger, or resistance against him who irritates us; truth-telling or lying, the maintenance of a sweet and well-regulated disposition, or of a mood fierce and swollen and exalted with pride. Here you are the master of your actions. Do not look for the guiding cause beyond yourself, but recognize that evil, rightly so called, has no other origin than our voluntary falls. If it were involuntary, and did not depend upon ourselves, the laws would not have so much terror for the guilty, and the tribunals would not be so pitiless when they condemn wretches according to the measure of their crimes. But enough concerning evil rightly so called. Sickness, poverty, obscurity, death, finally all human afflictions, ought not to be ranked as evils, since we do not count among the greatest boons things which are their opposites. Among these afflictions some are the effect of nature, others have obviously been for many a source of advantage. Let us be silent for the moment about these metaphors and allegories, and, simply following without vain curiosity the words of Holy Scripture, let us take from darkness the idea which it gives us. But reason asks, Was darkness created with the world? Is it older than light? Why, in spite of its inferiority, has it preceded it? Darkness, we reply, did not exist in essence; it is a condition produced in the air by the withdrawal of light. What, then, is that light which disappeared suddenly from the world so that darkness should cover the face of the deep? If anything had existed before the formation of this sensible and perishable world, no doubt we conclude it would have been in the light. The orders of angels, the heavenly hosts, all intellectual natures named or unnamed, all the ministering spirits, did not live in darkness, but enjoyed a condition fitted for them in light and spiritual joy. No one will contradict this, least of all he who looks for celestial light as one of the rewards promised to virtue--the light which, as Solomon says, is always a light to the righteous, the light which made the apostle say, "Giving thanks unto the Father, which hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light." Finally, if the condemned are sent into outer darkness, evidently those who are made worthy of God's approval are at rest in heavenly light. When, then, according to the order of God, the heaven appeared, enveloping all that its circumference included, a vast and unbroken body separating outer things from those which it enclosed, it necessarily kept the space inside in darkness for want of communication with the outer light. Three things are, indeed, needed to form a shadow: light, a body, a dark place. The shadow of heaven forms the darkness of the world. Understand, I pray you, what I mean, by a simple example--by raising for yourself at midday a tent of some compact and impenetrable material, you shut yourself up in sudden darkness. Suppose that original darkness was like this, not subsisting directly by itself, but resulting from some external causes. If it is said that it rested upon the deep, it is because the extremity of air naturally touches the surface of bodies; and as at that time the water covered everything, we are obliged to say that darkness was upon the face of the deep. "And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters?" Does this Spirit mean the diffusion of air? The sacred writer wishes to enumerate to you the elements of the world, to tell you that God created the heavens, the earth, water and air, and that the last was now diffused and in motion; or rather, that which is truer and confirmed by the authority of the ancients, by the Spirit of God he means the Holy Spirit. It is, as has been remarked, the special name, the name above all others that Scripture delights to give to the Holy Spirit, and by the Spirit of God the Holy Spirit is meant, the Spirit, namely, which completes the divine and blessed Trinity. You will always find it better, therefore, to take it in this sense. How, then, did the Spirit of God move upon the waters? The explanation that I am about to give you is not an original one, but that of a Syrian who was as ignorant in the wisdom of this world as he was versed in the knowledge of the truth. He said, then, that the Syriac word was more expressive, and that, being more analogous to the Hebrew term, it was a nearer approach to the Scriptural sense. This is the meaning of the word: by "moved" the Syrians, he says, understand brooded over. The Spirit cherished the nature of the waters as one sees a bird cover the eggs with her body and impart to them vital force from her own warmth. Such is, as nearly as possible, the meaning of these words--the Spirit moved: that is, prepared the nature of water to produce living beings: a sufficient proof for those who ask if the Holy Spirit took an active part in the creation of the world. "And God said, Let there be light." The first word uttered by God created the nature of light; it made darkness vanish, dispelled gloom, illuminated the world, and gave to all being at the same time a sweet and gracious aspect. The heavens, until then enveloped in darkness, appeared with that beauty which they still present to our eyes. The air was lighted up, or rather made the light circulate mixed with its substance, and, distributing its splendor rapidly in every direction, so dispersed itself to its extreme limits. Up it sprang to the very ether and heaven. In an instant it lighted up the whole extent of the world, the north and the south, the east and the west. For the ether also is such a subtle substance and so transparent that it needs not the space of a moment for light to pass through it. Just as it carries our sight instantaneously to the object of vision, so without the least interval, with a rapidity that thought can not conceive, it receives these rays of light in its uttermost limits. With light the ether becomes more pleasing and the waters more limpid. These last, not content with receiving its splendor, return it by the reflection of light and in all directions send forth quivering flashes. The divine word gives every object a more cheerful and a more attractive appearance, just as when men pour in oil into the deep sea they make the place about them smooth. So, with a single word and in one instant the Creator of all things gave the boon of light to the world. "Let there be light." The order was itself an operation, and a state of things was brought into being than which man's mind can not even imagine a pleasanter one for our enjoyment It must be well understood that when we speak of the voice, of the word, of the command of God, this divine language does not mean to us a sound which escapes from the organs of speech, a collision of air struck by the tongue; it is a simple sign of the will of God, and, if we give it the form of an order, it is only the better to impress the souls whom we instruct. "And God saw the light, that it was good." How can we worthily praise light after the testimony given by the Creator to its goodness? The word, even among us, refers the judgment to the eyes, incapable of raising itself to the idea that the senses have already received. But if beauty in bodies results from symmetry of parts and the harmonious appearance of colors how, in a simple and homogeneous essence like light, can this idea of beauty be preserved? Would not the symmetry in light be less shown in its parts than in the pleasure and delight at the sight of it? Such is also the beauty of gold, which it owes, not to the happy mingling of its parts, but only to its beautiful color, which has a charm attractive to the eyes. Thus, again, the evening star is the most beautiful of the stars: not that the parts of which it is composed form a harmonious whole, but thanks to the unalloyed and beautiful brightness which meets our eyes. And further, when God proclaimed the goodness of light, it was not in regard to the charm of the eye, but as a provision for future advantage, because at that time there were as yet no eyes to judge of its beauty. "And God divided the light from the darkness." That is to say, God gave them natures incapable of mixing, perpetually in opposition to each other, and put between them the widest space and distance. "And God called the light day, and the darkness he called night." Since the birth of the sun, the light that it diffuses in the air when shining on our hemisphere is day, and the shadow produced by its disappearance is night. But at that time it was not after the movement of the sun, but following this primitive light spread abroad in the air or withdrawn in a measure determined by God, that day came and was followed by night. "And the evening and the morning were the first day." Evening is then the boundary common to day and night; and in the same way morning constitutes the approach of night to day. It was to give day the privileges of seniority that Scripture put the end of the first day before that of the first night, because night follows day: for, before the creation of light, the world was not in night, but in darkness. It is the opposite of day which was called night, and it did not receive its name until after day. Thus were created the evening and the morning. Scripture means the space of a day and a night, and afterward no more says day and night, but calls them both under the name of the more important: a custom which you will find throughout Scripture. Everywhere the measure of time is counted by days without mention of nights. "The days of our years," says the Psalmist; "few and evil have the days of the years of my life been," said Jacob; and elsewhere "all the days of my life." "And the evening and the morning were the first day," or, rather, one day.--(_Revised Vers_). Why does Scripture say "one day," not "the first day?" Before speaking to us of the second, the third, and the fourth days, would it not have been more natural to call that one the first which began the series? If it, therefore, says "one day," it is from a wish to determine the measure of day and night and to combine the time that they contain. Now, twenty-four hours fill up the space of one day--we mean of a day and of a night; and if, at the time of the solstices, they have not both an equal length, the time marked by Scripture does not the less circumscribe their duration. It is as tho it said: Twenty-four hours measure the space of a day, or a day is in reality the time that the heavens, starting from one point, take to return thither. Thus, every time that, in the revolution of the sun, evening and morning occupy the world, their periodical succession never exceeds the space of one day. But we must believe that there is a mysterious reason for this? God, who made the nature of time, measured it out and determined it by intervals of days; and, wishing to give it a week as a measure, he ordered the week to resolve from period to period upon itself, to count the movement of time, forming the week of one day revolving seven times upon itself: a proper circle begins and ends with itself. Such is also the character of eternity, to revolve upon itself and to end nowhere. If, then, the beginning of time is called "one day" rather than "the first day," it is because Scripture wishes to establish its relationship with eternity. It was, in reality, fit and natural to call "one" the day whose character is to be one wholly separated and isolated from all others. If Scripture speaks to us of many ages, saying everywhere "age of age, and ages of ages," we do not see it enumerate them as first, second, and third. It follows that we are hereby shown, not so much limits, ends, and succession of ages as distinctions between various states and modes of action. "The day of the Lord," Scripture says, "is great and very terrible," and elsewhere, "Woe unto you that desire the day of the Lord: to what end is it for you? The day of the Lord is darkness and not light." A day of darkness for those who are worthy of darkness. No; this day without evening, without succession, and without end is not unknown to Scripture, and it is the day that the Psalmist calls the eighth day, because it is outside this time of weeks. Thus, whether you call it day or whether you call it eternity, you express the same idea. Give this state the name of day; there are not several, but only one. If you call it eternity still it is unique and not manifold. Thus it is in order that you may carry your thoughts forward toward a future life that Scripture marks by the word "one" the day which is the type of eternity, the first-fruits of days, the contemporary of light, the holy Lord's day. But while I am conversing with you about the first evening of the world, evening takes me by surprize and puts an end to my discourse. May the Father of the true light, who has adorned day with celestial light, who has made to shine the fires which illuminate us during the night, who reserves for us in the peace of a future age a spiritual and everlasting light, enlighten your hearts in the knowledge of truth, keep you from stumbling, and grant that "you may walk honestly as in the day." Thus shall you shine as the sun in the midst of the glory of the saints, and I shall glory in you in the day of Christ, to whom belong all glory and power for ever and ever. Amen. CHRYSOSTOM EXCESSIVE GRIEF AT THE DEATH OF FRIENDS BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Chrysostom (that is, "Of the Golden Mouth") was a title given to John, Archbishop of Constantinople. He was born of a patrician family at Antioch about 347, and owed much to the early Christian training of his Christian mother, Anthusa. He studied under Libanius, and for a time practised law, but was converted and baptized in 368. He made a profound study of the Scriptures, the whole of which, it is said, he learned to repeat by heart. Like Basil and Gregory he began his religious life as a hermit in the desert. After six years he returned to Antioch, where he gained reputation as the greatest preacher in the Eastern Church. Raised to the metropolitan See of Constantinople in 397, his fulminations against the corruptions of the court caused him to be banished, after a stormy ministry of six years. He was recalled in response to popular clamor, but removed again, and shortly after died, in 407. He was a great exegete, and showed a spirit of intellectual liberty which anticipated modern criticism. Sermons to the number of one thousand have been attributed to him. CHRYSOSTOM 347-407 EXCESSIVE GRIEF AT THE DEATH OF FRIENDS _But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not._--1 Thess. iv., 13. We have occupied four days in explaining to you the parable of Lazarus, bringing out the treasure that we found in a body covered with sores; a treasure, not of gold and silver and precious stones, but of wisdom and fortitude, of patience and endurance. For as in regard to visible treasures, while the surface of the ground shows only thorns and briers, and rough earth, yet, let a person dig deep into it, abundant wealth discovers itself; so it has proved in respect to Lazarus. Outwardly, wounds; but underneath these, unspeakable wealth; a body pining away, but a spirit noble and wakeful. We have also seen an illustration of that remark of the apostle's--in proportion as the outward man perishes, the inward man is renewed. It would, indeed, be proper to address you to-day, also, on this same parable, and to enter the lists with those heretics who censure the Old Testament, bringing accusations against the patriarchs, and whetting their tongues against God, the Creator of the universe. But to avoid wearying you and reserving this controversy for another time, let us direct the discourse to another subject; for a table with only one sort of food produces satiety, while variety provokes the appetite. That it may be so in regard to our preaching, let us now, after a long period, turn to the blest Paul; for very opportunely has a passage from the apostle been read to-day, and the things which are to be spoken concerning it are in harmony with those that have lately been presented. Hear, then, Paul this day proclaiming--"I would not have you to be ignorant concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not even as others which have no hope." The parable of Lazarus is the evangelical chord; this passage is the apostolic note. And there is concord between them; for we have, on that parable, said much concerning the resurrection and the future judgment, and our discourse now recurs to that theme; so that, tho it is on apostolic ground we are now toiling, we shall here find the same treasure. For in treating the parable, our aim was to teach the hearers this lesson, that they should regard all the splendors of the present life as nothing, but should look forward in their hopes, and daily reflect on the decisions which will be hereafter pronounced, and on that fearful judgment, and that Judge who can not be deceived. On these things Paul has counseled us to-day in the passages which have been read to us. Attend, however, to his own words--"I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him."--I Thess. iv., 13, 14. We ought here, at the outset, to inquire why, when he is speaking concerning Christ, he employs the word death; but when he is speaking of our decease he calls it sleep, and not death. For he did not say, Concerning them that are dead: but what did he say? "Concerning them that are asleep." And again--"Even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him." He did not say, Them that have died. Still again--"We who are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them that sleep." Here, too, he did not say--Them that are dead; but a third time, bringing the subject to their remembrance, for the third time called death a sleep. Concerning Christ, however, he did not speak thus; but how? "For if we believe that Jesus died." He did not say, Jesus slept, but He died. Why now did he use the term death in reference to Christ, but in reference to us the term sleep? For it was not casually, or negligently, that he employed this expression, but he had a wise and great purpose in so doing. In speaking of Christ, he said death, so as to confirm the fact that Christ had actually suffered death; in speaking of us, he said sleep, in order to impart consolation. For where resurrection had already taken place, he mentions death with plainness; but where the resurrection is still a matter of hope, he says sleep, consoling us by this very expression, and cherishing our valuable hopes. For he who is only asleep will surely awake; and death is no more than a long sleep. Say not a dead man hears not, nor speaks, nor sees, nor is conscious. It is just so with a sleeping person. If I may speak somewhat paradoxically, even the soul of a sleeping person is in some sort asleep; but not so the soul of a dead man; that is awake. But, you say, a dead man experiences corruption, and becomes dust and ashes. And what then, beloved hearers? For this very reason we ought to rejoice. For when a man is about to rebuild an old and tottering house, he first sends out its occupants, then tears it down, and rebuilds anew a more splendid one. This occasions no grief to the occupants, but rather joy; for they do not think of the demolition which they see, but of the house which is to come, tho not yet seen. When God is about to do a similar work, he destroys our body, and removes the soul which was dwelling in it as from some house, that he may build it anew and more splendidly, and again bring the soul into it with greater glory. Let us not, therefore, regard the tearing down, but the splendor which is to succeed. If, again, a man has a statue decayed by rust and age, and mutilated in many of its parts, he breaks it up and casts it into a furnace, and after the melting he receives it again in a more beautiful form. As then the dissolving in the furnace was not a destruction but a renewing of the statue, so the death of our bodies is not a destruction but a renovation. When, therefore, you see as in a furnace our flesh flowing away to corruption, dwell not on that sight, but wait for the recasting. And be not satisfied with the extent of this illustration, but advance in your thoughts to a still higher point; for the statuary, casting into the furnace a brazen image, does not furnish you in its place a golden and undecaying statue, but again makes a brazen one. God does not thus; but casting in a mortal body formed of clay, he returns to you a golden and immortal statue; for the earth, receiving a corruptible and decaying body gives back the same, incorruptible and undecaying. Look not, therefore, on the corpse, lying with closed eyes and speechless lips, but on the man that is risen, that has received glory unspeakable and amazing, and direct your thoughts from the present sight to the future hope. But do you miss his society, and therefore lament and mourn? Now is it not unreasonable, that, if you should have given your daughter in marriage, and her husband should take her to a distant country and should there enjoy prosperity, you would not think the circumstance a calamity, but the intelligence of their prosperity would console the sorrow occasioned by her absence; and yet here, while it is not a man, nor a fellow servant, but the Lord Himself who has taken your relative, that you should grieve and lament? And how is it possible, you ask, not to grieve, since I am only a man? Nor do I say that you should not grieve: I do not condemn dejection, but the intensity of it. To be dejected is natural; but to be overcome by dejection is madness, and folly, and unmanly weakness. You may grieve and weep; but give not way to despondency, nor indulge in complaints. Give thanks to God, who has taken your friend, that you have the opportunity of honoring the departed one, and of dismissing him with becoming obsequies. If you sink under depression, you withhold honor from the departed, you displease God who has taken him, and you injure yourself; but if you are grateful, you pay respect to him, you glorify God, and you benefit yourself. Weep, as wept your Master over Lazarus, observing the just limits of sorrow, which it is not proper to pass. Thus also said Paul--"I would not have you to be ignorant concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not as others who have no hope. Grieve," says he; "but not as the Greek, who has no hope of a resurrection, who despairs of a future life." Believe me, I am ashamed and blush to see unbecoming groups of women pass along the mart, tearing their hair, cutting their arms and cheeks--and all this under the eyes of the Greeks. For what will they not say? What will they not declare concerning us? Are these the men who reason about a resurrection? Indeed! How poorly their actions agree with their opinions! In words, they reason about a resurrection: but they act just like those who do not acknowledge a resurrection. If they fully believed in a resurrection, they would not act thus; if they had really persuaded themselves that a deceased friend had departed to a better state, they would not thus mourn. These things, and more than these, the unbelievers say when they hear those lamentations. Let us then be ashamed, and be more moderate, and not occasion so much harm to ourselves and to those who are looking on us. For on what account, tell me, do you thus weep for one departed? Because he was a bad man? You ought on that very account to be thankful, since the occasions of wickedness are now cut off. Because he was good and kind? If so, you ought to rejoice; since he has been soon removed, before wickedness had corrupted him, and he has gone away to a world where he stands even secure, and there is no reason even to mistrust a change. Because he was a youth? For that, too, praise Him that has taken him, because he has speedily called him to a better lot. Because he was an aged man? On this account, also, give thanks and glorify Him that has taken him. Be ashamed of your behavior at a burial. The singing of psalms, the prayers, the assembling of the (spiritual) fathers and brethren--all this is not that you may weep, and lament, and afflict yourselves, but that you may render thanks to Him who has taken the departed. For as when men are called to some high office, multitudes with praises on their lips assemble to escort them at their departure to their stations, so do all with abundant praise join to send forward, as to greater honor, those of the pious who have departed. Death is rest, a deliverance from the exhausting labors and cares of this world. When, then, thou seest a relative departing, yield not to despondency; give thyself to reflection; examine thy conscience; cherish the thought that after a little while this end awaits thee also. Be more considerate; let another's death excite thee to salutary fear; shake off all indolence; examine your past deeds; quit your sins, and commence a happy change. We differ from unbelievers in our estimate of things. The unbeliever surveys the heavens and worships them, because he thinks them a divinity; he looks to the earth and makes himself a servant to it, and longs for the things of sense. But not so with us. We survey the heavens and admire Him that made them; for we do not believe them to be a god, but a work of God. I look on the whole creation, and am led by it to the Creator. He looks on wealth, and longs for it with earnest desire; I look on wealth, and contemn it. He sees poverty, and laments; I see poverty, and rejoice. I see things in one light; he in another. Just so in regard to death. He sees a corpse, and thinks of it as a corpse; I see a corpse, and behold sleep rather than death. And as in regard to books, both learned persons and unlearned see them with the same eyes, but not with the same understanding--for to the unlearned the mere shapes of letters appear, while the learned discover the sense that lies within those letters--so in respect to affairs in general, we all see what takes place with the same eyes, but not with the same understanding and judgment. Since, therefore, in all other things we differ from them, shall we agree with them in our sentiments respecting death? Consider to whom the departed has gone, and take comfort. He has gone where Paul is, and Peter, and the whole company of the saints. Consider how he shall arise, with what glory and splendor. Consider that by mourning and lamenting thou canst not alter the event which has occurred, and thou wilt in the end injure thyself. Consider whom you imitate by so doing, and shun this companionship in sin. For whom do you imitate and emulate? The unbelieving, those who have no hope; as Paul has said--"That ye sorrow not, even as others who have no hope." And observe how carefully he expresses himself; for he does not say, Those who have not the hope of a resurrection, but simply, Those who have no hope. He that has no hope of a future retribution has no hope at all, nor does he know that there is a God, nor that God exercises a providential care over present occurrences, nor that divine justice looks on all things. But he that is thus ignorant and inconsiderate is more unwise than a beast, and separates his soul from all good; for he that does not expect to render an account of his deeds cuts himself loose from all virtue, and attaches himself to all vice. Considering these things, therefore, and reflecting on the folly and stupidity of the heathen, whose associates we become by our lamentations for the dead, let us avoid this conformity to them. For the apostle mentions them for this very purpose, that by considering the dishonor into which thou fallest, thou mightest recover thyself from this conformity, and return to thy proper dignity. And not only here, but everywhere and frequently, the blest Paul does the same. For when he would dissuade from sin, he shows with whom we become associated by our sins, that, being touched by the character of the persons, thou shouldest avoid such companionship. To the Thessalonians, accordingly, he says, Let every one "possess his vessel in sanctification and honor, not in the lust of concupiscence, even as the Gentiles which know not God." And again--"Walk not as the other Gentiles in the vanity of their mind." Thus also here--"I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not even as others who have no hope." For it is not the nature of things, but our own disposition, which makes us grieve; not the death of the departed, but the weakness of those who mourn. We ought, therefore, to thank God not only for the resurrection, but also for the hope of it; which can comfort the afflicted soul, and bid us be of good cheer concerning the departed, for they will again rise and be with us. If we must have anguish, we should mourn and lament over those who are living in sin, not over those who have died righteously. Thus did Paul; for he says to the Corinthians--"Lest when I come to you God shall humble me among you and that I shall bewail many." He was not speaking of those who had died, but of those who had sinned and had not repented of the lasciviousness and uncleanness which they had committed; over these it was proper to mourn. So likewise another writer admonishes, saying--"Weep over the dead, for the light has failed; and weep over the fool, for understanding has failed" (Eccles. xxii., 10). Weep a little for the dead; for he has gone to his rest; but the fool's life is a greater calamity than death. And surely if one devoid of understanding is always a proper object of lamentation, much more he that is devoid of righteousness and that has fallen from hope toward God. These, then, let us bewail; for such bewailing may be useful. For often while lamenting these, we amend our own faults; but to bewail the departed is senseless and hurtful. Let us not, then, reverse the order, but bewail only sin; and all other things, whether poverty, or sickness, or untimely death, or calumny, or false accusation, or whatever human evil befalls us, let us resolutely bear them all. For these calamities, if we are watchful, will be the occasions of adding to our crowns. But how is it possible, you ask, that a bereaved person, being a man, should not grieve? On the contrary, I ask, how is it that being a man he should grieve, since he is honored with reason and with hopes of future good? Who is there, you ask again, that has not been subdued by this weakness? Many, I reply, and in many places, both among us and among those who have died before us. Job, for instance; the whole circle of his children being taken away, hear what he says--"The Lord gave; the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." A wonderful saying, even when merely heard; but if you examine it closely, your wonder will greatly increase. For consider; Satan did not take merely half and leave half, or take the larger number and leave the rest; but he gathered all the fruit, and yet did not prevail in uprooting the tree; he covered the whole sea with waves, and yet did not overwhelm the bark; he despoiled the tower of its strength, and yet could not batter it down. Job stood firm, tho assailed from every quarter; showers of arrows fell, but they did not wound him. Consider how great a thing it was, to see so many children perish. Was it not enough to pierce him to the quick that they should all be snatched away?--altogether and in one day; in the flower of life; having shown so much virtue; expiring as by a stroke of vengeance; that after so many sorrows this last should be inflicted; that the father was fond of them, and that the deceased were worthy of his affection. When a man loses vicious children, he does indeed suffer grief, but not intense grief; for the wickedness of the departed does not allow the sorrow to be poignant. But when children are virtuous, an abiding wound is inflicted, the remembrance is indelible, the calamity is inconsolable; there is a double sting, from nature, and from the virtuous character of the departed. That Job's children were virtuous, appears from the fact that their father was particularly solicitous in regard to them, and rising up offered sacrifices in their behalf, fearing lest they might have committed secret sins; and no consideration was more important in his esteem than this. Not only the virtue of the children is thus shown, but also the affectionate spirit of the father. Since, therefore, the father was so affectionate, showing not only a love for them which proceeded from nature, but that also which came from their piety, and since the departed were thus virtuous, the anguish had a threefold intensity. Still further; when children are torn away separately, the suffering has some consolation; for those that are left alleviate the sorrow over the departed; but when the whole circle is gone, to what one of all his numerous children can the childless man now look? Besides these causes of sorrow, there was a fifth stroke. What was that? That they were all snatched away at once. For if in the case of those who die after three or five days of sickness, the women and all the relatives bewail this most of all, that the deceased was taken away from their sight speedily and suddenly, much more might he have been distrest, when thus deprived of all, not in three days, or two, or one, but in one hour! For a calamity long contemplated, even if it be hard to bear, may fall more lightly through this anticipation; but that which happens contrary to expectation and suddenly is intolerable. Would you hear of a sixth stroke? He lost them all in the very flower of their age. You know how very overwhelming are untimely bereavements, and productive of grief on many scores. The instance we are contemplating was not only untimely, but also violent; so that here was a seventh stroke. For their father did not see them expire on a bed, but they are all overwhelmed by the falling habitation. Consider then; a man was digging in that pile of ruins, and now he drew up a stone, and now a limb of a deceased one; he saw a hand still holding a cup, and another right hand placed on the table, and the mutilated form of a body, the nose torn away, the head crusht, the eyes put out, the brain scattered, the whole frame marred, and the variety of wounds not permitting the father to recognize the beloved countenances. You suffer emotions and shed tears at merely hearing of these things: what must he have endured at the sight of them? For if we, so long after the event, can not bear to hear of this tragedy, tho it was another man's calamity, what an adamant was he to look on these things, and contemplate them, not as another's, but his own afflictions! He did not give way to dejection, nor ask, "What does this mean? Is this the recompense for my kindness? Was it for this that I opened my house, that I might see it made the grave of my children? Did I for this exhibit every parental virtue, that they should endure such a death?" No such things did he speak, or even think; but steadily bore all, tho bereaved of them after bestowing on them so much care. For as an accomplished statuary framing golden images adorns them with great care, so he sought properly to mold and adorn their souls. And as a husbandman assiduously waters his palm-trees, or olives, inclosing them and cultivating them in every suitable way; so he perpetually sought to enrich each one's soul, as a fruitful olive, with increasing virtue. But he saw the trees overthrown by the assault of the evil spirit, and exposed on the earth, and enduring that miserable kind of death; yet he uttered no reviling word, but rather blest God, thus giving a deadly blow to the devil. Should you say that Job had many sons, but that others have frequently lost their only sons, and that his cause of sorrow was not equal to theirs, you say well; but I reply, that Job's cause of sorrow was not only equal, but far greater. For of what advantage was it to him that he had many children? It was a severer calamity and a more bitter grief to receive the wound in many bodies. Still, if you wish to see another holy man having an only son, and showing the same and even greater fortitude, call to mind the patriarch Abraham, who did not indeed see Isaac die, but, what was much more painful, was himself commanded to slay him, and did not question the command, nor repine at it, nor say, "Is it for this thou hast made me a father, that thou shouldest make me the slayer of my son? Better it would have been not to give him at all, than having given him thus to take him away. And if thou choosest to take him, why dost thou command me to slay him and to pollute my right hand? Didst thou not promise me that from this son thou wouldst fill the earth with my descendants? How wilt thou give the fruits, then, if thou pluck up the root? How dost thou promise me a posterity, and yet order me to slay my son? Who ever saw such things, or heard of the like? I am deceived; I have been deluded." No such thing did he say, or even think; he said nothing against the command, he did not ask the reasons; but hearing the Word--"Take thy son, thine only son whom thou lovest, and carry him up to one of the mountains which I shall show thee," he complied so readily as even to do more than was commanded. For he concealed the matter from his wife, and he left the servants at the foot of the Mount in ignorance of what was to be done, and ascended, taking only the victim. Thus not unwillingly, but with promptness, he obeyed the command. Think now what it was, to be conversing alone with his son, apart from all others, when the affections are the more fervently excited, and attachment becomes stronger; and this not for one, or two, but for several days. To obey the command speedily would have been wonderful; but not so wonderful as, while his heart was burdened and agitated for many days, to avoid indulging in human tenderness toward his son. On this account God appointed for him a more extended arena, and a longer racecourse, that thou mightest the more carefully observe his combatant. A combatant he was indeed, contending not against a man, but against the force of nature. What language can describe his fortitude? He brought forward his son, bound him, placed him on the wood, seized the sacrificial knife, was just on the point of dealing the stroke. In what manner to express myself properly, I know not; he only would know, who did these things. For no language can describe how it happened that his hand did not become torpid, that the strength of his nerves did not relax, that the affecting sight of his son did not overpower him. It is proper here, too, to admire Isaac. For as the one obeyed God, so did the other obey his father; and as the one, at God's bidding him to sacrifice, did not demand an account of the matter, so the other, when his father was binding him and leading him to the altar, did not say, "Why art thou doing this?"--but surrendered himself to his father's hand. And then was to be seen a man uniting in his own person the father and the sacrificing priest; and a sacrifice offered without blood, a whole burnt offering without fire, an altar representing a type of death and the resurrection. For he both sacrificed his son and he did not sacrifice him. He did not sacrifice him with his hand, but in his purpose. For God gave the command, not through desire to see the flowing of the blood, but to give you a specimen of steady purpose, to make known throughout the world this worthy man, and to instruct all in coming time that it is necessary to prefer the command of God before children and nature, before all things, and even life itself. And so Abraham descended from the Mount, bringing alive the martyr Isaac. How can we be pardoned then, tell me, or what apology can we have, if we see that noble man obeying God with so much promptness and submitting to Him in all things, and yet we murmur at His dispensations? Tell me not of grief, nor of the intolerable nature of your calamity; rather consider how in the midst of bitter sorrow you may yet rise superior to it. That which was commanded to Abraham was enough to stagger his reason, to throw him into perplexity, and to undermine his faith in the past. For who would not have then thought that the promise which had been made him of a numerous posterity was all a deception? But not so Abraham. And not less ought we to admire Job's wisdom in calamity; and particularly, that after so much virtue, after his alms and various acts of kindness to men, and tho aware of no wrong either in himself or his children, yet experiencing so much affliction, affliction so singular, such as had never happened even to the most desperately wicked, still he was not affected by it as most men would have been, nor did he regard his virtue as profitless, nor form any ill-advised opinion concerning the past. By these two examples, then, we ought not only to admire virtue, but to emulate and imitate it. And let no one say these were wonderful men. True, they were wonderful and great men. But we are now required to have more wisdom than they, and than all who lived under the Old Testament. For "except your righteousness exceed that of the Scribes and Pharisees, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." Gathering wisdom, then, from all quarters, and considering what we are told concerning a resurrection and concerning these holy men, let us frequently recite it to our souls, not only when we are actually in sorrow, but also while we are free from distress. For I have now addrest you on this subject, tho no one is in particular affliction, that when we shall fall into any such calamity, we may, from the remembrance of what has been said, obtain requisite consolation. As soldiers, even in peace, perform warlike exercises, so that when actually called to battle and the occasion makes a demand for skill, they may avail themselves of the art which they have cultivated in peace; so let us, in time of peace, furnish ourselves with weapons and remedies, that whenever there shall burst on us a war of unreasonable passions, or grief, or pain, or any such thing, we may, well armed and secure on all sides, repel the assaults of the evil one with all skill, and wall ourselves round with right contemplations, with the declarations of God, with the examples of good men, and with every possible defense. For so shall we be able to pass the present life with happiness, and to attain to the kingdom of heaven, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and dominion, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, forever and ever. Amen. AUGUSTINE THE RECOVERY OF SIGHT BY THE BLIND BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Saint Augustine (Aurelius Augustinus), one of the greatest theological fathers of the Church, was born at Tagaste, 354 A.D., and became devoted to the study of Cicero. As a Manichean he occasioned great anxiety to his mother Monica. Eventually embracing Christianity, he was baptized by Ambrose of Milan (387), on which occasion, tradition says, the Te Deum was composed by himself and his baptizer. Appointed to the See of Hippo in 395, he threw himself into the conflict against heresy and schism, his principal opponents being the Donatists and Pelagians. His sermons, powerful as they are, disappoint the modern reader by their fantastic and allegorical interpretation of Scripture, but his "Confessions," in which he details the history of his early life and conversion, present a wonderful picture of personal experience. He is styled by Harnack "the first modern man." He died at Hippo in 430. AUGUSTINE 354-430 THE RECOVERY OF SIGHT BY THE BLIND _Have mercy on us, O Lord, thou son of David._--Matt. xx., 30. I. Ye know, holy brethren, full well as we do, that our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is the physician of our eternal health; and that to this end we task the weakness of our natures, that our weakness might not last forever. For He assumed a mortal body, wherein to kill death. And, "though He was crucified through weakness," as the apostle saith, yet He "liveth by the power of God." They are the words, too, of the same apostle: "He dieth no more, death hath no more dominion over Him." These things, I say, are well known to your faith. And there is also this which follows from them, that we should know that all the miracles which He did on the body avail to our instruction, that we may from them perceive that which is not to pass away, nor to have any end. He restored to the blind those eyes which death was sure some time to close; He raised Lazarus to life who was to die again. And whatever He did for the health of bodies, He did it not to this end that they should be forever; whereas, at the last, He will give eternal health even to the body itself. But because those things which were not seen were not believed; by means of those temporal things which were seen, He built up faith in those things which were not seen. II. Let no one then, brethren, say that our Lord Jesus Christ doeth not those things now, and on this account prefer the former to the present ages of the Church. In a certain place, indeed, the same Lord prefers those who do not see and yet believe to them who see and therefore believe. For even at that time so irresolute was the infirmity of His disciples that they thought that He whom they saw to have risen again must be handled, in order that they might believe. It was not enough for their eyes that they had seen Him, unless their hands also were applied to His limbs, and the scars of His recent wounds were touched: that this disciple, who was in doubt, might cry suddenly when he had touched and recognized the scars, "My Lord and my God." The scars manifested Him who had healed all wounds in others. Could not the Lord have risen again without scars? Yes, but He knew the wounds which were in the hearts of His disciples, and to heal them He had preserved the scars on His own body. And what said the Lord to him who now confest and said, "My lord, and my God?" "Because thou hast seen," He said, "thou hast believed; blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed." Of whom spake He, brethren, but of us? Not that He spoke only of us, but of those also who shall come after us. For a little while when He had departed from the sight of men, that faith might be established in their hearts, whosoever believed, believed tho they saw Him not, and great has been the merit of their faith; for the procuring of which faith they brought only the movement of a pious heart, and not the touching of their hands. III. These things, then, the Lord did to invite us to the faith. This faith reigneth now in the Church, which is spread throughout the whole world. And now, He worketh greater cures, on account of which He disdained not then to exhibit those lesser ones. For as the soul is better than the body, so is the saving health of the soul better than the health of the body. The blind body doth not now open its eyes by a miracle of the Lord, but the blinded heart openeth its eyes to the word of the Lord. The mortal corpse doth not now rise again, but the soul doth rise again which lay dead in a living body. The deaf ears of the body are not now opened; but how many have the ears of their heart closed, which yet fly open at the penetrating word of God, so that they believe who did not believe, and they live well who did live evilly, and they obey who did not obey; and we say, "such a man is become a believer," and we wonder when we hear of them whom once we had known as hardened. Why, then, dost thou marvel at one who now believes, who is living innocently, and serving God, but because thou dost behold him seeing, whom thou hadst known to be blind; dost behold him living whom thou hast known to be dead; dost behold him hearing whom thou hadst known to be deaf? For consider that there are those who are dead in another than the ordinary sense, of whom the Lord spoke to a certain man who delayed to follow the Lord, because he wished to bury his father; "Let the dead," said He, "bury their dead." Surely these dead buriers are not dead in body; for if this were so, they could not bury dead bodies. Yet doth He call them dead; where but in the soul within? For as we may often see in a household, itself sound and well, the master of the same house lying dead; so in a sound body do many carry a dead soul within; and these the apostle arouses thus, "Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light." It is the same who giveth sight to the blind that awakeneth the dead. For it is with His voice that the cry is made by the apostle to the dead. "Awake thou that sleepest." And the blind will be enlightened with light, when he shall have risen again. And how many deaf men did the Lord see before His eyes, when He said, "He that hath ears to hear let him hear." For who was standing before Him without his bodily ears? What other ears, then, did He seek for, but those of the inner man? IV. Again, what eyes did He look for when He spake to those who saw indeed, but who saw only with the eyes of the flesh? For when Philip said to Him, "Lord, show us the Father and it sufficeth us": he understood, indeed, that if the Father were shown him, it might well suffice him; when He that was equal to the Father had sufficed not? And why did He not suffice? Because He was not seen. And why was He not seen? Because the eye whereby He might be seen was not yet whole. For this, namely, that the Lord was seen in the flesh with the outward eyes, not only the disciples who honored Him saw, but also the Jews who crucified Him. He, then, who wished to be seen in another way, sought for other eyes. And, therefore, it was that to him who said, "Show us the Father, and it sufficeth us," He answered, "Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known Me, Philip? He who hath seen Me hath seen the Father also." And that He might in the meanwhile heal the eyes of faith, He has first of all given him instructions regarding faith, that so he might attain to sight. And lest Philip should think that he was to conceive of God under the same form in which he then saw the Lord Jesus Christ in the body, he immediately subjoined, "Believest thou not that I am in the Father, and the Father in me?" He had already said, "He who hath seen me hath seen the Father also." But Philip's eye was not yet sound enough to see the Father, nor, consequently, to see the Son, who is Himself coequal with the Father. And so Jesus Christ took in hand to cure, and with the medicine and salve of faith to strengthen the eyes of his mind, which as yet were weak and unable to behold so great a light, and He said, "Believest thou not that I am in the Father, and the Father in Me?" Let not him, then, who can not yet see what the Lord will one day show him, seek first to see what he is to believe; but let him first believe that the eye by which he is to see may be healed. For it was only the form of the servant which was exhibited to the eyes of servants; because if "He who thought it not robbery to be equal with God" could have been now seen as equal with God by those whom He wished to be healed, He would not have needed to empty Himself and to take the form of a servant. But because there was no way whereby God could be seen, but whereby man could be seen there was; therefore, He who was God was made man, that that which was seen might heal that whereby He was not seen. For He saith Himself in another place, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Philip might, of course, have answered and said, Lord, do I see Thee? Is the Father such as I see Thee to be? Forasmuch as Thou hast said, "He who hath seen Me hath seen the Father also?" But before Philip answered thus, or perhaps before he so much as thought it, when the Lord had said, "He who hath seen Me hath seen the Father also," He immediately added, "Believest thou not that I am in the Father, and the Father in me?" For with that eye he could not yet see either the Father, or the Son who is equal with the Father; but that his eye might be healed for seeing, he was anointed unto believing. So, then, before thou seest what thou canst not now see, believe what as yet thou seest not. "Walk by faith," that thou mayest attain to sight. Sight will not gladden him in his home whom faith consoleth not by the way. For, so says the apostle, "As long as we are in the body we are absent from the Lord." And he subjoins immediately why we are still "absent or in pilgrimage," tho we have now believed; "For we walk by faith," he says; "not by sight." V. Our whole business, then, brethren, in this life is to heal this eye of the heart whereby God may be seen. To this end are celebrated the Holy Mysteries; to this end is preached the Word of God; to this end are the moral exhortations of the Church, those, that is, that relate to the corrections of manners, to the amendment of carnal lusts, to the renouncing the world, not in word only, but in a change of life: to this end is directed the whole aim of the Divine and Holy Scriptures, that that inner man may be purged of that which hinders us from the sight of God. For as the eye which is formed to see this temporal light, a light tho heavenly yet corporeal, and manifest, not to men only, but even to the meanest animals (for this the eye is formed to this light); if anything be thrown or falls into it, whereby it is disordered, is shut out from this light; and tho it encompasses the eye with its presence, yet the eye turns itself away from, and is absent from it; and tho its disordered condition is not only rendered absent from the light which is present, but the light to see which it was formed is even painful to it, so the eye of the heart too, when it is disordered and wounded, turns away from the light of righteousness, and dares not and can not contemplate it. VI. And what is it that disorders the eye of the heart? Evil desire, covetousness, injustice, worldly concupiscence; these disorder, close, blind the eye of the heart. And yet, when the eye of the body is out of order, how is the physician sought out, what an absence of all delay to open and cleanse it, that they may be healed whereby this outward light is seen! There is running to and fro, no one is still, no one loiters, if even the smallest straw fall into the eye. And God, it must be allowed, made the sun which we desire to see with sound eyes. Much brighter, assuredly, is He who made it; nor is the light with which the eye of the mind is concerned of this kind at all. That light is eternal wisdom. God made thee, O man, after His own image. Would He give thee wherewithal to see the sun which He made, and not give thee wherewithal to see Him who made thee, when He made thee after His own image? He hath given thee this also; both hath He given thee. But much thou dost love these outward eyes, and despisest much that interior eye; it thou dost carry about bruised and wounded. Yea, it would be a punishment to, if thy Maker should wish to manifest Himself unto thee, it would be a punishment to thine eye, before that it is cured and healed. For so Adam in Paradise sinned, and hid himself from the face of God. As long, then, as he had the sound heart of a pure conscience, he rejoiced at the presence of God; when that eye was wounded by sin, he began to dread the divine light, he fled back into the darkness, and the thick covert of trees, flying from the truth, and anxious for the shade. VII. Therefore, my brethren, since we too are born of him, and as the apostle says, "In Adam all die"; for we were all at first two persons; if we were loath to obey the physician, that we might not be sick; let us obey Him now, that we may be delivered from sickness. The Physician gave us precepts, when we were whole; He gave us precepts that we might not need a physician. "They that are whole," He saith, "need not a physician, but they that are sick." When whole, we despised these precepts, and by experience have felt how to our own destruction we despised His precepts. Now we are sick, we are in distress, we are on the bed of weakness; yet let us not despair. For because we could not come to the Physician, He hath vouchsafed to come Himself to us. Tho despised by man when he was whole, He did not despise him when he was stricken. He did not leave off to give other precepts to the weak, who would not keep the first precepts, that he might not be weak; as tho He would say, "Assuredly thou hast by experience felt that I spoke the truth when I said, Touch not this. Be healed then now, at length, and recover the life thou hast lost. Lo, I am bearing thine infirmity; drink then the bitter cup. For thou hast of thine own self made those my so sweet precepts, which were given to thee when whole, so toilsome. They were despised, and so thy distress began; cured thou canst not be, except thou drink the bitter cup, the cup of temptations, wherein this life abounds, the cup of tribulation, anguish, and suffering. Drink then," He says, "drink, that thou mayest live." And that the sick man may not make answer, "I can not, I can not bear it, I will not drink"; the Physician, all whole tho He be, drinketh first, that the sick man may not hesitate to drink. For what bitterness is there in this cup which He hath not drunk? If it be contumely, He heard it first when He drove out the devils. "He hath a devil, and by Beelzebub He casteth out devils." Whereupon, in order to comfort the sick, He saith, "If they have called the Master of the house Beelzebub, how much more shall they call them of His household?" If pains are this bitter cup, He was bound, and scourged, and crucified. If death be this bitter cup, He died also. If infirmity shrink with horror from any particular kind of death, none was at that time more ignominious than the death of the cross. For it was not in vain, that the apostle, when setting forth His obedience, added, "He became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." VIII. But because He designed to honor His faithful ones at the end of the world, He hath first honored the cross in this world; in such wise that the princes of the earth who believe in Him have prohibited any criminal from being crucified; and that cross which the Jewish persecutors with great mockery prepared for the Lord, even kings, His servants, at this day, bear with great confidence on their foreheads. Only the shameful nature of the death which our Lord vouchsafed to undergo for us is not now so apparent, Who, as the apostle says, "Was made a curse for us." And when, as He hung, the blindness of the Jews mocked Him, surely He could have come down from the cross, who, if He had not so willed, had not been on the cross; but it was a greater thing to rise from the grave than to come down from the cross. Our Lord, then, in doing these divine and in suffering these human things, instructs us by His bodily miracles and bodily patience, that we may believe and be made whole to behold those things invisible which the eye of the body hath no knowledge of. With this intent, then, He cured those blind men of whom the account has just now been read in the Gospel. And consider what instruction He has by this cure conveyed to the man who is sick within. IX. Consider the issue of the thing, and the order of the circumstances. Those two blind men sitting by the wayside cried out, as the Lord passed by, that He would have mercy upon them. But they were restrained from crying out by the multitude which was with the Lord. Now do not suppose that this circumstance is left without a mysterious meaning. But they overcame the crowd who kept them back by the great perseverance of their cry, that their voice might reach the Lord's ears; as tho he had not already anticipated their thoughts. So then the two blind men cried out that they might be heard by the Lord, and could not be restrained by the multitude. The Lord "was passing by," and they cried out. The Lord "stood still," and they were healed. "For the Lord Jesus stood still, and called them, and said, What wilt ye that I shall do unto you? They say unto Him, That our eyes may be opened." The Lord did according to their faith, He recovered their eyes. If we have now understood by the sick, the deaf, the dead, the sick, and deaf, and dead within; let us look out in this place also for the blind within. The eyes of the heart are closed; Jesus passeth by that we may cry out. What is meant by "Jesus passeth by?" Jesus is doing things which last but for a time. What is meant by "Jesus passeth by?" Jesus doth things which pass by. Mark and see how many things of His have passed by. He was born of the Virgin Mary; is He being born always? As an infant He was suckled; is He suckled always? He ran through the successive ages of life until man's full estate; doth He grow in body always? Boyhood succeeded to infancy, to boyhood youth, to youth man's full stature in several passing successions. Even the very miracles which He did are passed by; they are read and believed. For because these miracles are written that so they might be read, they passed by when they were being done. In a word, not to dwell long on this, He was crucified; is He hanging on the cross always? He was buried, He rose again, He ascended into heaven, now He dieth no more, death hath no more dominion over Him. And His divinity abideth ever, yea, the immortality of His body now shall never fail. But nevertheless all those things which were wrought by Him in time have passed by; and they are written to be read, and they are preached to be believed. In all these things, then, Jesus passeth by. X. And what are the two blind men by the wayside but the two people to cure whom Jesus came? Let us show these two people in the Holy Scriptures. It is written in the Gospel, "Other sheep I have which are not of this fold; them also must I bring, that there may be one fold and one Shepherd." Who then are the two people? One the people of the Jews, and the other of the Gentiles. "I am not sent," He saith, "but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel." To whom did He say this? To the disciples; when that woman of Canaan, who confest herself to be a dog, cried out that she might be found worthy of the crumbs from the Master's table. And because she was found worthy, now were the two people to whom He had come made manifest, the Jewish people, to wit, of whom He said, "I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel"; and the people of the Gentiles, whose type this woman exhibited, whom He had first rejected, saying, "It is not meet to cast the children's bread to the dogs"; and to whom, when she said, "Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's table," He answered, "O woman, great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt." For of this people also was that centurion of whom the same Lord saith, "Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel," because he had said, "I am not worthy that Thou shouldst come under my roof, but speak the word only, and my servant shall be healed." So then the Lord even before His passion and glorification pointed out two people, the one to whom He had come because of the promises to the Fathers, and the other whom for His mercy's sake He did not reject; that it might be fulfilled which had been promised to Abraham, "In thy seed shall all the nations be blessed." XI. Attend, now, dearly beloved. The Lord was passing by, and the blind men cried out. What is this "passing by?" As we have already said, He was doing works which passed by. Now upon these passing works is our faith built up. For we believe on the Son of God, not only in that He is the Word of God, by whom all things were made; for if He had always continued in the form of God, equal with God, and had not emptied Himself in taking the form of a servant, the blind men would not even have perceived Him, that they might be able to cry out. But when he wrought passing works, that is, when He humbled Himself, having become obedient unto death, even the death of the cross, the two blind men cried out, Have mercy on us, thou Son of David. For this very thing that He, David's Lord and Creator, willed also to be David's son, He wrought in time, He wrought passing by. XII. Now what is it, brethren, to cry out unto Christ, but to correspond to the grace of Christ by good works? This I say, brethren, lest haply we cry aloud with our voices, and in our lives be dumb. Who is he that crieth out to Christ, that his inward blindness may be driven away by Christ as He is passing by, that is, as He is dispensing to us those temporal sacraments, whereby we are instructed to receive the things which are eternal? Who is he that crieth out unto Christ? Whoso despiseth the world, crieth out unto Christ. Whoso despiseth the pleasures of the world, crieth out unto Christ. Whoso saith, not with his tongue but with his life, the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world, crieth out unto Christ. Whoso disperseth abroad and giveth to the poor, that his righteousness may endure forever, crieth out unto Christ. For let him that hears, and is not deaf to the sound, sell that ye have, and give to the poor; provide yourselves bags which wax not old, a treasure in the heavens that faileth not; let him as he hears the sound as it were of Christ's footsteps passing by cry out in response to this in his blindness; that is, let him do these things. Let his voice be in his actions. Let him begin to despise the world, to distribute to the poor his goods, to esteem as nothing worth what other men love, let him disregard injuries, not seek to be avenged, let him give his cheek to the smiter, let him pray for his enemies; if any one who have taken away his goods, let him not ask for them again; if he have taken anything from any man, let him restore fourfold. XIII. When he shall begin to do all this, all his kinsmen, relations, and friends will be in commotion. They who love the world will oppose him. What madness this! You are too extreme! What! Are not other men Christians? This is folly, this is madness. And other such like things do the multitude; cry out to prevent the blind from crying out. The multitude rebuked them as they cried out; but did not overcome their cries. Let them who wish to be healed understand what they have to do. Jesus is now also passing by; let them who are by the wayside cry out. These are they, who know God with their lips, but their heart is far from Him. These are by the wayside, to whom, as blinded in heart, Jesus gave His precepts. For when those passing things which Jesus did are recounted, Jesus is always represented to us as passing by. For even unto the end of the world there will not be wanting blind men sitting by the wayside. Need then there is that they who sit by the wayside should cry out. The multitude that was with the Lord would repress the crying of those who were seeking for recovery. Brethren, do you see my meaning? For I know not how to speak, but still less do I know how to be silent. I will speak then, and speak plainly. For I fear Jesus passing by and Jesus standing still; and therefore I can not keep silence. Evil and unknown Christians hinder good Christians who are truly earnest and wish to do the commandments of God, which are written in the Gospel. This multitude which is with the Lord hinders those who are crying out, hinders those, that is, who are doing well, that they may not by perseverance be healed. But let them cry out, and not faint; let them not be led away as if by the authority of numbers; let them not imitate those who become Christians before them, who live evil lives themselves, and are jealous of the good deeds of others. Let them not say, "Let us live as these so many live." Why not rather as the Gospel ordains? Why dost thou wish to live according to the remonstrances of the multitude who would hinder them, and not after the steps of the Lord who passeth by? They will mock, and abuse, and call thee back; do thou cry out till thou reach the ears of Jesus. For they who shall persevere in doing such things as Christ hath enjoined, and regard not the multitude that hinder them, nor think much of their appearing to follow Christ, that is of their being called Christians; but who love the light which Christ is about to restore to them more than they fear the uproar of those who are hindering them; they shall on no account be separated from Him, and Jesus will stand still, and make them whole. XIV. For how are our eyes made whole? That as by faith we perceive Christ passing by in the temporal economy, so we may attain to the knowledge of Him as standing still in His unchangeable eternity. For there is the eye made whole when the knowledge of Christ's divinity is attained. Let your love apprehend this; attend ye to the great mystery which I am to speak of. All the things which were done by our Lord Jesus Christ, in time, graft faith in us. We believe on the Son of God, not on the word only, by whom all things were made; but on this very word, "made flesh that He might dwell among us"; who was born of the Virgin Mary; and the rest which the Faith contains, and which are represented to us that Christ might pass by, and that the blind, hearing His footsteps as He passeth by, might by their works cry out, by their life exemplifying the profession of their faith. But now in order that they who cry out may be made whole, Jesus standeth still. For he saw Jesus now standing still, who says, "Though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we Him no more." For he saw Christ's divinity as far as in this life is possible. There is then in Christ the divinity, and the humanity. The divinity standeth still, the humanity passeth by. What means "the divinity standeth still?" It changeth not, is not shaken, doth not depart away. For He did not so come to us as to depart from the Father; nor did He so ascend as to change His place. When He assumed flesh, it changed place; but God assuming flesh, seeing He is not in place, doth not change His place. Let us then be touched by Christ standing still, and so our eyes be made whole. But whose eyes? The eyes of those who cry out when He is passing by; that is, who do good works through that faith which hath been dispersed in time, to instruct in our infancy. XV. Now what thing more precious can we have than the eye made whole? They rejoice who see this created light which shines from heaven, or even that which is given out from a lamp. And how wretched do they seem who can not see this light? But wherefore do I speak, and talk of all these things, but to exhort you all to cry out, when Jesus passeth by. I hold up this light which perhaps ye do not see as an object of love to you, holy brethren. Believe, while as yet ye see it not; and cry out that ye may see. How great is thought to be the unhappiness of men who do not see this bodily light? Does any one become blind; immediately it is said: "God is angry with him, he has committed some wicked deed." So said Tobias's wife to her husband. He cried out because of the kid, lest it had come of theft; he did not like to hear the sound of any stolen thing in his house; and she, maintaining what she had done, reproached her husband; and when he said, "Restore it if it be stolen"; she answered insultingly, "Where are thy righteous deeds?" How great was her blindness who maintaineth the theft; and how clear a light he saw, who commanded the stolen thing to be restored! She rejoiced outwardly in the light of the sun; he inwardly in the light of righteousness. Which of them was in the better light? XVI. It is to the love of this light that I would exhort you, beloved; that ye would cry out by your works, when the Lord passeth by; let the voice of faith sound out, that Jesus was standing still, that is, the unchangeable, abiding wisdom of God, and the majesty of the Word of God, by which all things were made, may open your eyes. The same Tobias, in giving advice to his son, instructed him to this, to cry out; that is, he instructed him to good works. He told him to give to the poor, charged him to give alms to the needy, and taught him, saying, "My son, alms suffereth not to come into darkness." The blind gave counsel for receiving and gaining sight. "Alms," saith he, "suffereth not to come into darkness." Had his son in astonishment answered him, "What then, father, hast thou not given alms, that thou speakest to me in blindness; art not thou in darkness, and yet thou dost say to me, Alms suffereth not to come into darkness?" But no, he knew well what the light was concerning which he gave his son instruction, he knew well what he saw in the inner man. The son held out his hand to his father, to enable him to dwell in heaven. XVII. To be brief; that I may conclude this sermon, brethren, with a matter which touches me very nearly, and gives me much pain, see what crowds there are which rebuke the blind as they cry out. But let them not deter you. Whosoever among this crowd desire to be healed; for there are many Christians in name, and in works ungodly; let them not deter you from good works. Cry out amid the crowds that are restraining you, and calling you back, and insulting you, whose lives are evil. For not only by their voices, but by evil works, do wicked Christians repress the good. A good Christian has no wish to attend the public shows. In this very thing, that he bridles his desire of going to the theater, he cries out after Christ, cries out to be healed. Others run together thither, but perhaps they are heathens or Jews? Ah! indeed, if Christians went not to the theaters, there would be so few people there that they would go away for very shame. So then Christians run thither also, bearing the Holy Name only to their condemnation. Cry out then by abstaining from going, by repressing in thy heart this worldly concupiscence; hold on with a strong and persevering cry unto the ears of the Savior, that Jesus may stand still and heal thee. Cry out amid the very crowds, despair not of reaching the ears of the Lord. For the blind man in the Gospel did not cry out in that quarter where no crowd was, that so they might be heard in that direction, where there was no impediment from persons hindering them. Amid the very crowds they cried out; and yet the Lord heard them. And so also do ye even amid sinners, and sensual men, amid the lovers of the vanities of the world, there cry out that the Lord may heal you. Go not to another quarter to cry out unto the Lord, go not to heretics and cry out unto Him there. Consider, brethren, how in that crowd which was hindering them from crying out, even there they who cried out were made whole. WYCLIF CHRIST'S REAL BODY NOT IN THE EUCHARIST BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Wyclif, eminent as scholar, preacher, and translator, was born in 1324 in Spresswel, near Richmond, Yorkshire, England. Known as the "Morning Star of the Reformation" he was a vigorous and argumentative speaker, exemplifying his own definition of preaching as something which should be "apt, apparent, full of true feeling, fearless in rebuking sins, and so addrest to the heart as to enlighten the spirit and subdue the will." On these lines he organized a band of Bible preachers who worked largely among the common people. Much of Wyclif's popularity was due to his clear and simple style. While not a great orator, he introduced a popular method of preaching that was widely copied. He died at Lutterworth in 1384. The Church considered him a heretic, for he taught the right of the individual to form his own opinions after personal study of the Scriptures. He was the first Englishman to translate the Bible systematically into his native Anglo-Saxon. In 1428, by order of Pope Martin V, his bones were exhumed and burned, and the ashes thrown into the river Swale. WYCLIF 1324-1384 CHRIST'S REAL BODY NOT IN THE EUCHARIST _This is my body_.--Matt. xxvi., 26. Now understand ye the words of our Savior Christ, as He spake them one after another--as Christ spake them. For He took bread and blest, and yet what blest He? The Scripture saith not that Christ took the bread and blest it, or that He blest the bread which He had taken. Therefore it seemeth more that He blest His disciples and apostles, whom He had ordained witnesses of His passion; and in them He left His blest word, which is the bread of life, as it is written, "Not only in bread liveth man, but in every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." Also Christ saith, "I am the bread of life that came down from heaven." And Christ saith also in John, "The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life." Therefore it seemeth more that He blest His disciples, and also His apostles, in whom the bread of life was left more than in material bread, for the material bread hath an end. As it is written in the Gospel of Matthew xv. that Christ said, "All things that a man eateth go down into the belly, and are sent down into the draught;" but the blessing of Christ kept His disciples and apostles, both bodily and [ghostly] spiritual. As it is written, that none of them perished but the son of perdition, that the Scriptures might be fulfilled, and often the Scripture saith that Jesus took bread and brake it, and gave it to his disciples, and said, "Take ye, eat ye, this is my body that shall be given for you." But He said not this bread is my body, or that bread should be given for the life of the world. For Christ saith, What and if ye shall see the Son of man ascend up where He was before? "It is the Spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing." Also Christ saith in the Gospel, "Verily, verily I say unto you except the wheat corn fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone, but if it die it bringeth forth much fruit" Here men may see by the words of Christ that it behooved that He died in the flesh, and that in His death was made the fruit of everlasting life for all them that believe on Him, as it is written "For as by Adam they all die, even so by Christ shall all live, and every man in his own order; for as one clearness is in the sun, another in the moon, and a star in clearness is nothing in comparison to the sun; even so is the rising again of the dead for we are sown in corruption and shall rise again incorruptible, we are sown in infirmity, and shall rise again in strength; we are sown in natural bodies, and shall rise again spiritual bodies." Then if Christ shall change thus our deadly bodies by death, and God the Father spared not his own Son, as it is written, but that death should reign in him as in us, and that he should be translated into a spiritual body, as the first rising again of dead men; then how say the hypocrites that take on them to make our Lord's body? Make they the glorified body? Either make they again the spiritual body which is risen from death to life or make they the fleshy body as it was before he suffered death? And if they say also that they make the spiritual body of Christ, it may not be so, for what Christ said and did, He did as He was at supper before He suffered His passion; as it is written that the spiritual body of Christ rose again from death to life. Also that He ascended up to heaven, and that He will abide there till He come to judge the quick and the dead. And if they say that they make Christ's body as it was before He had suffered His passion, then must they needs grant that Christ is to die yet. For by all Holy Scriptures He was promised to die, and that He should give lordship of everlasting life. Furthermore, if they say that Christ made His body of bread, I ask, With what words made He it? Not with these words, _Hoc est corpus meum_; that is to say in English, "This is my body," for they are the words of giving, and not of making, which He said after that He brake the bread; then parting it among His disciples and apostles. Therefore if Christ had made of that bread His body, [He] had made it in His blessing, or else in giving of thanks, and not in the words of giving; for if Christ had spoken of the material bread that He had in His hands when He said, _Hoc est corpus meum_, "This is my body," it was made before, or else the word had been a lie. For if I say, This is my hand, and if it be not a hand, then am I a liar; therefore seek carefully if ye can find two words of blessing, or of giving of thanks, wherewith Christ made his body and blood of the bread and wine. And that all the clerks of the earth know not, for if ye might find or know those words, then should ye wax great masters above Christ, and then ye might be givers of His substance, and as fathers and makers of Him, and that He should worship you, as it is written, Thou shalt worship thy father and mother. Of such as desire such worship against God's law, speaketh St. Paul of the man of sin, that enhanceth himself as if he were God. And he is worshiped over all things as God, and showeth himself as he were God. Where our clergy are guilty in this, judge ye or they that know most, for they say that when ye have said, _Hoc est corpus meum_, that is to say, "This is my body;" which ye call the words of consecration, or else of making; and when they are said over the bread, ye say that there is left no bread, but it is the body of the Lord. So that in the bread there remaineth nothing but a heap of accidents, as witness ruggedness, roundness, savor, touching, and tasting, and such other accidents. Then, if thou sayest that the flesh and blood of Christ, that is to say, his manhood, is made more, or increased by so much as the ministration of bread and wine is, the which ye minister--if ye say it is so--then thou must needs consent that the thing which is not God today shall be God tomorrow; yea, and that the thing which is without spirit of life, but groweth in the field by kind, shall be God at another time. And we all ought to believe that He was without beginning, and without ending; and not made, for if the manhood of Christ were increased every day by so much as the bread and wine draweth to that ye minister, He should increase more in one day by cart-loads than He did in thirty-two years when He was here in earth. And if thou makest the body of the Lord in those words, _Hoc est corpus meum_; that is to say, "This is my body"; and if thou mayest make the body of the Lord in those words, "This is my body," thou thyself must be the person of Christ, or else there is a false God; for if it be thy body as thou sayest, then it is the body of a false knave or of a drunken man, or of a thief, or of a lecherer, or full of other sins, and then there is an unclean body for any man to worship for God! For even if Christ had made there His body of material bread in the said words, as I know they are not the words of making, what earthly man had power to do as He did? For in all Holy Scripture, from the beginning of Genesis to the end of the Apocalypse, there are no words written of the making of Christ's body; but there are written that Christ was the Son of the Father, and that He was conceived of the Holy Ghost, and that he took flesh and blood of the Virgin Mary, and that He was dead, and that He rose again from death on the third day, and that He ascended to heaven very God and man, and that we should believe in all Scriptures that are written of Him, and that He is to come to judge the quick and the dead, and that the same Christ Jesus, King and Savior, was at the beginning with the Father and the Holy Ghost, making all things of naught, both heaven and earth, and all things that are therein; working by word of His virtue, for He said, Be it done, and it was done, whose works never earthly man might comprehend, either make. And yet the words of the making of these things are written in the beginning of Genesis, even as God spake them; and if ye can not make the work that He made, and have the word by which He made it, how shall ye make Him that made the works? You have no words of authority or power left you on earth by which ye should do this, but ye have feigned this craft of your false errors, which some of you understand not; for it is prophesied, "They shall have eyes and see not, and ears and hear not; and shall see prophesies, and shall not understand, less they be converted; for I hide them from the hearts of those people; their hearts are greatly fatted." And this thing is done to you for the wickedness of your errors in unbelief; therefore be ye converted from the worst sin, as it is written, "When Moses was in the hill with God," the people made a calf and worshiped it as God. And God spake to Moses, "Go, for the people have done the worst sin to make and worship alien gods." But now I shall ask you a word; answer ye me, Whether is the body of the Lord made at once or at twice? Is it both the flesh and the blood in the host of the bread; or else is the flesh made at one time, and the blood made at another time; that is to say, the wine in the chalice? If thou wilt say it is full and wholly the manhood of Christ in the host of bread, both flesh and blood, skin, hair, and bones, then makest thou us to worship a false god in the chalice, which is unconjured when ye worship the bread; and if ye say the flesh is in the bread, and the blood in the wine, then thou must grant, if thy craft be true, as it is not indeed, that the manhood of Christ is parted, and that He is made at two times. For first thou takest the host of bread, or a piece of bread, and makest it as ye say, and the innocent people worship it. And then thou takest to thee the chalice, and likewise marrest, makest, I would have said, the blood in it, and then they worship it also, and if it be so as I am sure that the flesh and blood of Christ ascended, then are ye false harlots to God and to us; for when we shall be houselled ye bring to us the dry flesh, and let the blood be away; for ye give us after the bread, wine and water, and sometimes clean water unblest, or rather conjured, by the virtue of your craft; and yet ye say, under the host of bread is the full manhood of Christ. Then by your own confession must it needs be that we worship a false god in the chalice, which is unconjured when we worship the bread, and worship the one as the other; but where find ye that ever Christ or any of His disciples taught any man to worship this bread or wine? Therefore, what shall we say of the apostles that were so much with Christ, and were called by the Holy Ghost; had they forgotten to set it in the creed when they made it, which is Christian men's belief? Or else we might say that they knew no such God, for they believe in no more gods but in Him that was at the beginning, and made of naught all things visible and invisible, which Lord took flesh and blood, being in the Virgin, the same God. But ye have many false ways, to beguile the innocent people with sleights of the fiend. For ye say that in every host each piece is the whole manhood of Christ, or full substance of Him. For ye say as a man may take a glass, and break the glass into many pieces, and in every piece properly thou mayest see thy face, and yet thy face is not parted; so ye say the Lord's body is in each host or piece, and His body is not parted. And this is a full subtle question to beguile an innocent fool, but will ye take heed of this subtle question, how a man may take a glass and behold the very likeness of his own face, and yet it is not his face, but the likeness of his face; for if it were his very face, then he must needs have two faces, one on his body and another in the glass. And if the glass were broken in many places, so there should be many faces more by the glass than by the body, and each man shall make as many faces to them as they would; but as ye may see the mind or likeness of your face, which is not the very face; but the figure thereof, so the bread is the figure or mind of Christ's body in earth, and therefore Christ said, As oft as ye do this thing do it in mind of me. Also ye say this, As a man may light many candles at one candle, and yet the light of that candle is never the more nor ever the less; so ye say that the manhood of Christ descendeth into each part of every host, and the manhood of Christ is never the more nor less. Where then becometh your ministrations? For if a man light many candles at one candle, as long as they burn there will be many candles lighted, and as well the last candle as the first; and so by this reason, if ye shall fetch your word at God, and make God, there must needs be many gods, and that is forbidden in the first commandment, Exod. xx. And as for making more, either making less, of Christ's manhood, it lieth not in your power to come there nigh, neither to touch it, for it is ascended into heaven in a spiritual body, which He suffered not Mary Magdalen to touch, when her sins were forgiven to her. Therefore all the sacraments that are left here in earth are but minds of the body of Christ, for a sacrament is no more to say but a sign or mind of a thing passed, or a thing to come; for when Jesus spake of the bread, and said to His disciples, As ye do this thing, do it in mind of me, it was set for a mind of good things passed of Christ's body; but when the angel showed to John the sacraments of the woman and of the beast that bare her, it was set for a mind of evil things to come on the face of the earth, and great destroying of the people of God. And in the old law there were many figures or minds of things to come. For before Christ, circumcision was commanded by a law; and he that kept not the law was slain. And yet St. Paul saith, "And neither is it circumcision that is openly in the flesh, but he that is circumcised of heart in spirit, not the letter whose praising is not of men, but of God." Peter saith in the third chapter of his epistle, "And so baptism of like form maketh not us safe, but the putting away of the filthiness of the flesh, and the having of good conscience in God by the rising again of our Lord Jesus Christ from death, that we should be made heirs of everlasting life, He went up into heaven, and angels, and powers, and virtues, are made subjects to Him." And also the Scripture saith of John Baptist, that he preached in the wilderness and said, "A stronger than I shall come after me, and I am not worthy to kneel down and unlace His shoe;" and yet Christ said that he was more than a prophet. See also Isaiah xl., Matt. xi. How may ye then say that ye are worthy to make His body, and yet your works bear witness that ye are less than the prophets? for if ye were not, ye should not teach the people to worship the sacraments or minds of Christ for Christ himself; which sacraments or figures are lawful as God taught them and left them unto us, as the sacrifices or minds of the old law were full good. As it is written, "They that kept them should live in them." And so the bread that Christ brake was left to us for mind of things passed for the body of Christ, that we should believe He was a very man in kind as we are, but as God in power, and that His manhood was sustained by food as ours. For St. Paul saith He was very man, and in form he was found as man. And so we must believe that He was very God and very man together, and that He ascended up very God and very man to heaven, and that He shall be there till He come to doom the world. And we may not see him bodily, being in this life, as it is written, Peter i., for he saith, "Whom ye have not seen ye love, into whom ye now not seeing believe." And John saith in the first chapter of his Gospel, "No man saw God; none but the only begotten Son that is in the bosom of the Father, He hath told it out." And John saith in his first epistle, the third chapter, "Every man that sinneth seeth not him, neither knoweth him." By what reason then say ye that are sinners that ye make God? truly this must needs be the worst sin, to say that ye make God, and it is the abomination of discomfort that is said in Daniel the prophet to be standing in the holy place; he that readeth let him understand. Also Luke saith that Christ took the cup after that He had supped, and gave thanks and said, "This cup is the new testament in my blood that shall be shed unto the remission of sins for man." Now, what say ye; the cup which He said was the new testament in His blood, was it a material cup in which the wine was that He gave his disciples wine of, or was it His most blest body in which the blest blood was kept till it was shed out for the sins of them that should be made safe by His passion? Needs must we say that He spake of His holy body, as He did when He called His passion or suffering in body a cup, when He prayed to His father, before He went to His passion, and said, "If it be possible that this cup pass from me, but if thou wilt that I drink it, thy will be done?" He spake not here of the material cup in which He had given His disciples drink; for it troubled not Him, but He prayed for His great sufferance and bitter death, the which He suffered for our sins and not for His own. And if He spake of His holy body and passion when He said, "This cup is the new testament in my blood," so He spake of His holy body when He said, "This is my body which shall be given for you," and not of the material bread which He had in His hand. Also in another place He called His passion a cup, where the mother of Zebedee's sons came to Him, and asked of Him that her two sons, when He came to His kingdom, might sit one on His right, and one at His left side. And He answered and said, "Woman, thou wottest not what thou asketh; then He said to them, May ye drink of the cup that I shall drink? and they said, Yea, Lord. And He said, Ye shall drink of my cup, but to sit on my right hand or left hand it is not mine to give, but to the Father it is proper." But in that He said, Ye shall drink of my cup, He promised them to suffer tribulation of this world as He did, by the which they should enter into life everlasting, and to be both on his right hand. And thus ye may see that Christ spake not of the material cup, neither of himself, nor of his apostles, neither of material bread, neither of material wine. Therefore let every man wisely, with meek prayers, and great study, and also charity, read the words of God and holy Scriptures; but many of you are like the mother of Zebedee's sons to whom Christ said, "Thou knowest not what thou askest." So, many of you know not what ye ask, nor what you do; for if ye did, ye would not blaspheme God as ye do, to set an alien God instead of the living God. Also Christ saith, "I am a very vine; wherefore then worship ye not the vine God, as ye do the bread? Wherein was Christ a very vine, or wherein was the bread Christ's body, in figurative speech, which is hidden to the understanding? Then if Christ became not a material or an earthly vine, neither did a material vine become His body. So neither the bread, material bread, was changed from its substance to the flesh and blood of Christ." Have ye not read in John the second, when Christ came into the temple, they asked of Him what token He would show, that they might believe Him. And He answered them, "Cast down this temple, and in three days I shall raise it again;" which words were fulfilled in His rising again from death; but when He said, "Undo this temple," in that that He said this, they were in error, for they understood it fleshly, and had supposed that He had spoken of the temple of Jerusalem, because He stood in it. And therefore they accused Him at His passion full falsely. For He spake of the temple of His blest body, which rose again in the third day. And right so Christ spake of His holy body when He said, "This is my body which shall be given for you," which was given to death, and to rising again to bliss, for all that shall be saved by him. But like as they accused him falsely of the temple of Jerusalem, so now a days they accuse falsely against Christ, and say that Christ spake of the bread that He brake among His apostles; for in that Christ said this, they are deceived, take it fleshly, and turn it to the material bread, as the Jews did to the temple; and on this false understanding they make abomination of discomfort, as is said by Daniel the prophet, and in Matthew xxiv., to be standing in the holy place; he that readeth let him understand. Now, therefore, pray we heartily to God, that this evil may be made short for the chosen men, as He hath promised in His blest Gospel; and the large and broad way that leadeth to perdition may be stopt, and the straight and narrow way that leadeth to bliss may be made open by Holy Scriptures, that we may know which is the will of God, to serve Him in truth and holiness in the dread of God, that we may find by Him a way of bliss everlasting. So be it. SAVONAROLA THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Girolamo Savonarola was born at Ferrara in 1452, and was admitted in 1475 into the novitiate of the Dominican Order, where he soon made himself conspicuous for eloquence, and in Florence attracted many hearers by his diatribes against corruption. Florence, having lost its independence as a republic, was completely under the sway of the Medici, who became arrayed against Savonarola, who aimed at establishing an ideal Christian commonwealth. When he attacked the Pope Alexander VI. his doom was practically sealed. In 1495 he was forbidden to appear in the pulpit, and four years later was excommunicated. He rebelled against papal authority, but the people of Florence grew tired of the strict rule of conduct imposed by his teaching, and he was imprisoned and tried for heresy and sedition. On May 23, 1498, he was hanged and his body burned. His puritanism, his bold rebuking of vice, his defiance of every authority excepting that of his own conscience, seem to anticipate the efforts made by Calvin to regenerate Geneva. Both men failed in their splendid attempts at social reformation, but both left an example of heroic altho somewhat short-sighted unselfishness, which has borne fruit in history. SAVONAROLA 1452--1498 THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST[1] [Footnote 1: Reprinted by permission of Messrs. G.P. Putnam's Sons from "The World's Orations," the translation having been copyrighted by Messrs. Putnams.] _While he blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven_.--Luke xxiv., 51. Beloved in Christ Jesus, the wise men of this world divide all created things into two classes; one class they name substances, the other accidents. The substances are those things that exist through themselves without requiring anything else on which to rest, as the earth, water, air, the heavens, animals, stones, plants, and similar things. The accidents can not exist by themselves, but only by resting on something else, as color, odor, taste, and other such things. But because our knowledge is entirely through the senses, and we are able to know anything only when its accidents fall upon our senses, we have, therefore, knowledge of the accidents rather than of the substances. The eyes are for colors, the ears for sounds, the nose for scents, the tongue for flavors, the touch for heat and cold, for hard and soft. Each sense has its own sphere of knowledge and brings what it has perceived before the imagination, and this hands it over to the reason within, which reads and illuminates the productions of the imagination, judges them, and in this way comes to a knowledge of the substances. But the reason has little light if it is separated from the body, for God has joined soul and body together; and so by means of the senses knowledge becomes definite and complete. For if the soul out of the body were richer in knowledge, it would be in vain that it should be in the body. God and nature have done nothing in vain, and therefore the soul's union with the body ministers to its perfection. The soul's knowledge, however, will not be complete so long as it lives in this mortal body. It does not while here come to the fundamental distinctions and causes of the substances, because it is obliged to know the inner side of things through their externals. Therefore man is able only imperfectly to know an incorporeal substance; how much less can he know the uncreated infinite being of God? But if he can not know the being of God, he will not be able to know many other infinite things which are in Him. We ought therefore not to be surprized that there is much in God which we can not understand, and that very many truths of the faith we can not yet prove since we do not yet know everything. The great God in His rich mercy saw our poor knowledge and came into our flesh and assumed it that He might work for us, die, and rise again from the dead; until after a life full of love He raised Himself above the world of sense into His eternity. But so long as our Redeemer lived with His apostles they loved too much that which they saw of Him, because they were bound down to their senses, and were therefore unable to rise to the knowledge of His Spirit. It was necessary that He should disappear in the heavens that He might lift their souls far above the world of sense up to Himself. Their natural powers could not do this; therefore He gave to His elect a light from above. Ascending on high He led captivity captive, for ascending into the heavens He took with Him the prey which the devil had made of the soul of men ever since the fall of our parents. The Lord has given gifts unto men (Eph. iv. 8), inasmuch as He has imparted to them the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost. Now they leave everything of this world, and rise above by following Christ, who gives to them for a light the light of faith. Let us speak this morning of this faith which leads to the Savior. "Awake thou that sleepest and Christ shall give thee light." Be not held captive by flesh and sense, which hold thee fast in sleep; rise to Christ, He will give thee light. See, His flesh is above. What do ye say to that, ye wise men of this world? Everything that has weight tends downward, but His flesh is of thy heart. Thou hast refused the service of the Lord, who has ascended to prepare for thee the highest glory. I call upon all men and women, all whose lives are ruined in sorrows and troubles. What do ye fear? He who believes that Christ is above no longer fears anything. Come then all ye into His service. Jesus reproved the unbelief and the hard-heartedness of His disciples, because they did not believe those who had seen Him after He had risen. Without faith it is impossible to please God. No doubt the apostles said: How can we believe these women? But these women were of pure heart before God, and therefore the Savior reproved His disciples. Ye deserve still sharper reprimands. To the disciples a few women announced the news that He had risen. Ye hear all this, and in addition all the glorious revelations in which the Lord after this manifested Himself on earth. Why do ye not come to serve Christ? Ye do not truly believe, because ye are so full of sin, and despise God's commandments. Ye do not deserve the gift of faith. He who has faith should show it in his deeds, that he may have what he says he has, and may know what he has; namely, the certainty of the divine word, which can not err, the goodness of God, and His guidance into all goodness. On account of thy sins, thou hast not the true light which would have enabled thee to see all goodness. Thou art sunk in vice, drunken with greed and luxury, and all the works of this world. Thou seekest only power and glory. And wherefore? If thou hadst faith, thou wouldst not seek such things, for thou wouldst know that faith would give thee a much higher crown. From these sins have come thy unbelief and thy hardness of heart. Therefore the words of faith do not touch thy heart: it is a heart of stone and iron. Throw off thy load of sin and give thy will to righteousness; then will thy hard-heartedness end, and God will bestow on thee the gift of faith. What wilt thou? Why standest thou so uncertain and irresolute? Why dost thou not hasten to Him, and see how He leaves thy life, how He goes into the heavens, to which He bids thee come up. Leave at length thy sensual life and enter the pathway of Christ. Hesitate no longer, begin to-day, put it not off until to-morrow. If thou hast faith, thou canst not delay longer, and if thy heart is right before God, He will give thee the light of faith which will enable thee to distinguish the false from the true faith, and so when on the right road not to fall into error. Then wilt thou know for thyself that the Gospel makes good men out of those who truly believe, and thine experience will tell thee that thou hast no occasion to doubt. A story from the Old Testament might perhaps serve as a parable and make clearer what I mean. When Balak heard of Israel's march, he was afraid and sent to call Balaam to curse Israel for him. Balaam set out on his way with his ass, accompanied by an angel of the Lord, because Balaam was going to Balak with an evil intention. The beast sought in vain to turn into the field, and finally fell down between two walls, and suffered under blows and curses, until the prophet saw the angel and perceived his sin. Balak is the devil who would ruin the people of God; by Balaam we can understand the nobles, the prelates, the preachers, the learned, who are held captive by their arrogance. The two servants are those who follow the proud, serve them, and flatter them, especially the lazy clergy and monks, who so far as outward show goes live a virtuous life, but who live for ceremonies and take care not to speak the truth. To these belong many citizens who live apparently virtuously and hide their pride. Because they commit no sins of the flesh which can be noticed, they are full of piety in their outward ceremonies, but within full of arrogance. These are the members of the devil, for the devil neither eats, drinks, nor sleeps, he is neither a miser nor a wanton, but is within full of pride as are these. By the ass we are to understand the simple people. They are led in the way of sin by the ceremonies of the lazy, since they are not thought fit for the worship of the heart, and must be led by masses, penance, and indulgences, and they throw away what might be of profit for money and for candles. The lazy give them council in their sermons: Give some vestment, build a chapel, and thou wilt be freed from any danger of going to hell. Do not believe these mountebanks; no outward act can bring you to Paradise, not even miracles and prophecy, but only the grace of God, if you have humility and love.... Before the ass stood an angel with a sword. This is Christ, who speaks to the ass: Walk no longer in the path of sin, for I have ready for you a great scourge. The ass alone saw the angel; for the simple first hear the word of the Lord, but Balaam and such as are with him will hear nothing of it. The ass left the path of captivity and went out into the field, into the way of the Lord. "For the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hid in a field; which when a man found he sold all that he had and bought that field." So the simple go into the holy field of the Scriptures and say: "Let me look around a little, for the flowers of this field bear fruit." Yea, our fathers, the prophets, apostles, and martyrs bore fruit, they who died with joy for the truth. These are they who go into the field and speak the truth in the face of death. Come into the city, where the nobles and the masters taken captive by sin crowd together, cry the lazy troop of monks: O fathers, it would be well if when you spoke of these things, you touched not this string, by which you allow yourselves to fall into disgrace and disfavor. They have said that already to me. Our persecution begins if we begin to preach. But Jesus was willing to die for the truth of what He said; should we forsake the truth in order not to displease men? No, we will say it in every way, and with Balaam's ass go into the field. Think not that I am such a fool as to undertake these things without good reason. I call heaven and earth to witness against me if I do not speak the truth. For against all the world is my sermon; every one contradicts it. If I go about with lies, then I have Christ against me; therefore I have heaven and earth against me, and how then could I stand? As such a trifler with holy things how should I dare rise up? Believe me, I speak the truth, I have seen it with my eyes, and touched it with my hands. Believe it! If I speak not the truth, I consign myself body and soul to destruction; but I tell you I am certain of the truth, and I would that all were as I am. I say that of the truth on which I stand, not as tho I wished that others had my failings as well. So come then into the service of Jesus; come to the truth, come here, I bid you. Do ye not know how I explained the revelation of St. John? There were many who said that I spoke too much in detail, and went too deep into it. There stood the angel before the ass, and wanted it to go out into the field, but Balaam smote it; and ye know not how much opposition I must yet undergo. The lazy monks were the first who called me a fool and revolutionist, and on the other side stood the weak and the simple, who said in their innocent faith: "Oh, if we could only do what He teaches!" Then I had war with the citizens and the great judges of this time, whom my manner of preaching did not please. I was between two walls; the angel warned me, threatening eternal death from this road, and I received Balaam's blows. Ye know my persecution and my danger; but I knew that I was on the way to victory and said always: No human being can drive my cause from the world. Balaam, thou leanest thy foot against the walls, but do as thou wilt, I will crush thy foot; I leaned on the wall, on Christ, I leaned on His grace, I hoped; leave off thine anger and threatening, thou canst not get me away from the wall. I say to all of you: Come to the truth, forsake your vice and your malice, that I may not have to tell you of your grief. I say it to you, O Italy, I say it to you, O Rome, I say it to all of you; return and do penance. There stands before you the holy truth; she can not fall; she can not bend or give way; wait not until the blows fall. In everything am I opprest; even the spiritual power is against me with Peter's mighty key. Narrow is my path and full of trouble; like Balaam's ass, I must throw myself on the ground and cry: "See, here I am; I am ready to die for the truth." But when Balaam beat his fallen beast, it said to him: "What have I done to thee?" So I say to you: "Come here and tell me: what have I done to you? Why do you beat me? I have spoken the truth to you; I have warned you to choose a virtuous life; I have led many souls to Christ." But you answer: "Thou hast spoken evil of us, therefore, thou shouldst suffer the stripes thou deservest." But I named no one, I only blamed your vices in general. If you have sinned, be angry with yourselves, not with me. I name none of you, but if the sins I have mentioned are without question yours, then they and not I make you known. As the smitten beast asked Balaam, so I ask you: "Tell me, am I not your ass? and do you not know that I have been obedient to you up to this very moment, that I have even done what my superiors have commanded, and have always behaved myself peaceably?" You know this, and because I am now so entirely different, you may well believe that a great cause drives me to it. Many knew me as I was at first; if I remained so I could have had as much honor as I wanted. I lived six years among you, and now I speak otherwise, nevertheless I announce to you the truth that is well known. You see in what sorrows and what opposition I must now live, and I can say with Jeremiah: "O, my mother, that thou hast borne me a man of strife and contention to the whole earth!" But where is a father or a mother that can say I have led their son into sin; one that can say I have ruined her husband or his wife? Everybody knows my manner of life, therefore it is right for you to believe that I speak the truth which everybody knows. You think that it is impossible for a man to do what the faith I have preached tells him to do: with God it would be easy for you. The ass alone saw the angel, the others did not; so open your eyes. Thank God, many have them open. You have seen many learned men whom you thought wise, and they have withstood our cause: now they believe; many noted masters who were hard and proud against us: now humility casts them down. You have also seen many women turn from their vanity to simplicity; vicious youths who are now improved and conduct themselves in a new way. Many, indeed, have received this doctrine with humility. That doctrine has stood firm, no matter how attacked with the intention of showing that it was a doctrine opposed to Christ. God does that to manifest His wisdom, to show how it finally overcomes all other wisdom. And He is willing that His servants be spoken against that they may show their patience and humility, and for the sake of His love not be afraid of martyrdom. O ye men and women, I bid you to this truth; let those who are in captivity contradict you as much as they will, God will come and oppose their pride. Ye proud, however, if you do not turn about and become better, then will the sword and the pestilence fall upon you; with famine and war will Italy be turned upside down. I foretell you this because I am sure of it: if I were not, I would not mention it. Open your eyes as Balaam opened his eyes when the angel said to him: "Had it not been for thine ass, I would have slain thee." So I say to you, ye captives: Had it not been for the good and their preaching, it would have been wo unto you. Balaam said: "If this way is not good, I will return." You say likewise, you would turn back to God, if your way is not good. And to the angel you say as Balaam said: "What wilt thou that we should do?" The angel answers thee as he answered Balaam: "Thou shalt not curse this people, but shalt say what I put in thy mouth." But in thy mouth he puts the warning that thou shouldst do good, convince one another of the divine truth, and bear evil manfully. For it is the life of a Christian to do good and to bear wrong and to continue stedfast unto death, and this is the Gospel, which we, according to the text of the Gospel for today, shall preach in all the world. What wilt thou have of us, brother? you ask. I desire that you serve Christ with zeal and not with sloth and indifference. I desire that you do not mourn, but in thankfulness raise your hands to heaven, whenever your brother or your son enters the service of Christ. The time is come when Christ will work not only in you but through you and in others; whoever hears, let him say: "Come brother. Let one draw the other. Turn about, thou who thinkest that thou art of a superior mind and therefore canst not accept the faith." If I could only explain this whole Gospel to thee word for word, I would then scourge thy forehead and prove to thee that the faith could not be false and that Christ is thy God who is enthroned in heaven, and waits for thee. Or dost thou believe? Where are thy works? Why dost thou delay about them? Hear this: There was once a monk who spoke to a distinguished man about the faith, and got him to answer why he did not believe. He answered thus: "You yourself do not believe, for if you believed you would show other works." Therefore, to you also I say: If you believe, where are your works? Your faith is something every one knows, for every one knows that Christ was put to death by the Jews, and that everywhere men pray to Him. The whole world knows that His glory has not been spread by force and weapons, but by poor fishermen. O wise man, do you think the poor fishermen were not clever enough for this? Where they worked, there they made hearts better; where they could not work, there men remained bad; and therefore was the faith true and from God. The signs which the Lord had promised followed their teaching: in His name they drove out the devil; they spoke in new tongues; if they drank any deadly drink, they received therefrom no harm. Even if these wonders had not occurred, there would have been the wonder of wonders, that poor fishermen without any miracle could accomplish so great a work as the faith. It came from God, and so is Christ true and Christ is thy God, who is in heaven and awaits thee. You say you believe the Gospel, but you do not believe me. But the purer anything is, so much the nearer it stands to its end and purpose. The Christian life purifies the heart, and places it very near to the truth. To the Christian life will I lead you, if you would have the knowledge of the truth. If I had wished to deceive you, why should I have given you as the chief of my gifts the means of discovering my fraud? I would be verily a fool to try to impose upon you with a falsehood which you would soon detect; only because I offered you the truth, did I call you. Come here, I fear you not; the closer you examine, the clearer the truth will become to you. There are some, however, who are ashamed of the cross of Jesus Christ, and say: If we should believe that, we should be despised everywhere, especially by the wisest. But if you would know the truth, look only on the lives of those who would have to cry wo on their unbelief if they should be measured by deeds. If you are ashamed of the cross, the Lord was not ashamed to bear that cross for you, and to die on that cross for you. Be not ashamed of His service and of the defense of the truth. Look at the servants of the devil, who are not ashamed in the open places, in the palaces, and everywhere to speak evil and to revile us. Bear then a little shame only for your Lord; for whoever follows Him will, according to our gospel, in His name drive out the devil; that is, he will drive out his sins, and lead a virtuous life; he will drive out serpents; he will throw out the lazy who come into the houses, and say evil things under the pretense of righteousness, and so are like poisonous serpents. You will see how children can withstand them with the truth of God, and drive them away. If a believer drinks anything deadly it will not hurt him: this deadly drink is the false doctrines of the lazy, from whom, as you contend with them, a little comes also to you. But he who stands unharmed in the faith, cries to you: See that you do good; seek God's glory, not your own. He that does that is of the truth, and remains unharmed. The Lord says further of the faithful: They shall lay their hands on the sick and shall heal them. The hands are the works, and the good lay such hands on the weak that they may support them when they totter. Do I not teach you according to the Gospel? Why do you hesitate and go not into the service of the Lord? Do you ask me still what you ought to do? I will, in conclusion, tell you. Look to Christ and you will find that all He says concerns faith. Ask the apostle; he speaks of nothing else than of faith. If you have the ground of all, if you have faith, you will always do what is good. Without faith man always falls into sin. You must seek faith in order to be good, or else your faith will become false. Christ commanded His disciples to preach the Gospel to all the world, and your wise men call a man a little world, a microcosm. So then preach to yourself, O man, woman, and child. Three parts the world has in you also. Preach first of all to your knowledge, and say to it: If you draw near this truth, you will have much faith; wherefore do you hesitate to use it? To your will, say: Thou seest that everything passes away; therefore love not the world, love Christ. Thereupon turn to the second part of your world, and say to it: Be thankful, my memory, for the mercies God has shown thee, that thou thinkest not of the things of this world but of the mercy of thy creation, and thy redemption through the blood of the Son of God. Then go to the third part, to thy imagination, and proclaim to it: Set nothing before my eyes but my death, bring nothing before me but the Crucified, embrace Him, fly to Him. Then go through all the cities of thy world and preach to them. First say to thine eyes: Look not on vanity. To thy ears say: Listen not to the words of the lazy, but only to the words of Jesus. To thy tongue say: Speak no more evil. For thy tongue is as a great rock that rolls from the summit of a mountain, and at first falls slowly, then ever faster and more furiously. It begins with gentle murmuring, then it utters small sins, and then greater, until it finally breaks forth in open blasphemy. To thy palate say: It is necessary that we do a little penance. In all thy senses be clean, and turn to the Lord, for He it is who will give you correction and purity. To thy hands say: Do good and give alms; and let thy feet go in the good way. Our reformation has begun in the Spirit of God, if you take it to heart that each one has to preach to himself. Then will we in the name of Jesus drive out the devils of temptation. Yes, call upon Jesus as often as temptation approaches: call upon Him a hundred times and believe firmly, and the temptation will depart. Then will we speak with new tongues; we will speak with God. We shall drive away serpents; the enticement of the senses are these serpents. If we drink anything deadly it will not hurt us; if anger and lust arise in us, at the name of Jesus they will have to give way. We shall lay our hands upon the sick and heal them; with good deeds shall we strengthen the weak soul. If thou feelest thy weakness, flee to God, and He will strengthen; therefore He is thy only refuge. He is thy Savior and thy Lord, who went into the heavens to prepare a place for thee, and to wait thee there. What do you intend to do? Go and follow Jesus, who is praised from everlasting to everlasting. Amen. LUTHER THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Martin Luther, leader of the Reformation, was born at Eisleben in 1483, and died there 1546. His rugged character and powerful intellect, combined with a strong physique, made him a natural orator, so that it was said "his words were half battles." Of his own method of preaching he once remarked: "When I ascend the pulpit I see no heads, but imagine those that are before me to be all blocks. When I preach I sink myself deeply down; I regard neither doctors nor masters, of which there are in the church above forty. But I have an eye to the multitude of young people, children, and servants, of which there are more than two thousand. I preach to them. When he preaches on any article a man must first distinguish it, then define, describe, and show what it is; thirdly, he must produce sentences from the Scripture to prove and to strengthen it; fourthly, he must explain it by examples; fifthly, he must adorn it with similitudes; and lastly, he must admonish and arouse the indolent, correct the disobedient, and reprove the authors of false doctrine." LUTHER 1483--1546 THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION _Now I say, that the heir, as long as he is a child, differeth nothing from a servant, though he be Lord of all; but is under tutors and governors until the time appointed of the father. Even so we, when we were children, were in bondage under the elements of the world: but when the fullness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons. And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father. Wherefore thou art no more a servant, but a son, and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ_.--Gal. iv., 1-7. This text touches the very pith of Paul's chief doctrine. The cause why it is well understood but by few is, not that it is so obscure and difficult, but because there is so little knowledge of faith left in the world; without which it is not possible to understand Paul, who everywhere treats of faith with such earnestness and force. I must, therefore, speak in such a manner that this text will appear plain; and that I may more conveniently illustrate it, I will speak a few words by way of preface. First, therefore, we must understand the doctrine in which good works are set forth, far different from that which treats of justification; as there is a great difference between the substance and its working; between man and his work. Justification pertains to man, and not to works; for man is either justified and saved, or judged and condemned, and not works. Neither is it a controversy among the godly, that man is not justified by works, but righteousness must come from some other source than from his own works: for Moses, writing of Abel, says, "The Lord had respect unto Abel, and to his offering." First, He had respect to Abel himself, then to his offering; because Abel was first counted righteous and acceptable to God, and then for his sake his offering was accepted also, and not he because of his offering. Again, God had no respect to Cain, and therefore neither to his offering: therefore thou seest that regard is had first to the worker, then to the work. From this it is plainly gathered that no work can be acceptable to God, unless he which worketh it was first accepted by Him: and again, that no work is disallowed of Him unless the author thereof be disallowed before. I think these remarks will be sufficient concerning this matter at present, by which it is easy to understand that there are two sorts of works, those before justification and those after it; and that these last are good works indeed, but the former only appear to be good. Hereof cometh such disagreement between God and those counterfeit holy ones; for this cause nature and reason rise and rage against the Holy Ghost; this is that of which almost the whole Scripture treats. The Lord in His Word defines all works that go before justification to be evil, and of no importance, and requires that man before all things be justified. Again, He pronounces all men which are unregenerate, and have that nature which they received of their parents unchanged, to be righteous and wicked, according to that saying "all men are liars," that is, unable to perform their duty, and to do those things which they ought to do; and "Every imagination of the thoughts of his heart are only evil continually"; whereby he is able to do nothing that is good, for the fountain of his actions, which is his heart, is corrupted. If he do works which outwardly seem good, they are no better than the offering of Cain. Here again comes forth reason, our reverend mistress, seeming to be marvelously wise, but who indeed is unwise and blind, gainsaying her God, and reproving Him of lying; being furnished with her follies and feeble honor, to wit, the light of nature, free will, the strength of nature; also with the books of the heathen and the doctrines of men, contending that the works of a man not justified are good works, and not like those of Cain, yea, and so good that he that worketh them is justified by them; that God will have respect, first to the works, then to the worker. Such doctrine now bears the sway everywhere in schools, colleges, monasteries wherein no other saints than Cain was, have rule and authority. Now from this error comes another: they which attribute so much to works, and do not accordingly esteem the worker, and sound justification, go so far that they ascribe all merit and righteousness to works done before justification, making no account of faith, alleging that which James saith, that without works faith is dead. This sentence of the apostle they do not rightly understand; making but little account of faith, they always stick to works, whereby they think to merit exceedingly, and are persuaded that for their work's sake they shall obtain the favor of God: by this means they continually disagree with God, showing themselves to be the posterity of Cain. God hath respect unto man, then unto the works of man; God alloweth the work for the sake of him that worketh, these require that for the work's sake the worker may be crowned. But here, perhaps, thou wilt say, what is needful to be done? By what means shall I become righteous and acceptable to God? How shall I attain to this perfect justification? Those the gospel answers, teaching that it is necessary that thou hear Christ, and repose thyself wholly on Him, denying thyself and distrusting thine own strength; by this means thou shalt be changed from Cain to Abel, and being thyself acceptable, shalt offer acceptable gifts to the Lord. It is faith that justifies thee, thou being endued therewith; the Lord remitteth all thy sins by the mediation of Christ His Son, in whom this faith believeth and trusteth. Moreover, He giveth unto such a faith His Spirit, which changes the man and makes him anew, giving him another reason and another will. Such a one worketh nothing but good works. Wherefore nothing is required unto justification but to hear Jesus Christ our Savior, and to believe in Him. Howbeit these are not the works of nature, but of grace. He, therefore, that endeavors to attain to these things by works shutteth the way to the gospel, to faith, grace, Christ, God, and all things that help unto salvation. Again, nothing is necessary in order to accomplish good works but justification; and he that hath attained it performs good works, and not any other. Hereof it sufficiently appears that the beginning, the things following, and the order of man's salvation are after this sort; first of all it is required that thou hear the Word of God; next that thou believe; then that thou work; and so at last become saved and happy. He that changes this order, without doubt is not of God. Paul also describes this, saying, "Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. How then shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? and, how shall they believe in Him of whom they have not heard? and, how shall they hear without a preacher? and, how shall they preach except they be sent?" Christ teaches us to pray the Lord of the harvest to send forth laborers into His harvest; that is, sincere preachers. When we hear these preach the true Word of God, we may believe; which faith justifies a man, and makes him godly indeed, so that he now calls upon God in the spirit of holiness, and works nothing but that which is good, and thus becomes a saved man. Thus he that believeth shall be saved; but he that worketh without faith is condemned; as Christ saith, he that doth not believe shall be condemned, from which no works shall deliver him. Some say, I will now endeavor to become honest. It is meet surely that we study to lead an honest life, and to do good works. But if one ask them how we may apply ourselves unto honesty, and by what means we may attain it, they answer, that we must fast, pray, frequent temples, avoid sins, etc. Whereby one becomes a Carthusian monk, another chooses some other order of monks, and another is consecrated a priest; some torment their flesh by wearing hair-cloth, others scourge their bodies with whips, others afflict themselves in a different manner; but these are of Cain's progeny, and their works are no better than his; for they continue the same that they were before, ungodly, and without justification: there is a change made of outward works only, of apparel, of place, etc. They scarce think of faith, they presume only on such works as seem good to themselves, thinking by them to get to heaven. But Christ said, "Enter in at the strait gate, for I say unto you, many seek to enter in, and can not." Why is this? because they know not what this narrow gate is; for it is faith, which altogether annihilates or makes a man appear as nothing in his own eyes, and requires him not to trust in his own works, but to depend upon the grace of God, and be prepared to leave and suffer all things. Those holy ones of Cain's progeny think their good works are the narrow gate; and are not, therefore, extenuated or made less, whereby they might enter. When we begin to preach of faith to those that believe altogether in works, they laugh and hiss at us, and say, "Dost thou count us as Turks and heathens, whom it behooves now first to learn faith? is there such a company of priests, monks, and nuns, and is not faith known? who knoweth not what he ought to believe? even sinners know that." Being after this sort animated and stirred up, they think themselves abundantly endued with faith, and that the rest is now to be finished and made perfect by works. They make so small and slender account of faith, because they are ignorant what faith is, and that it alone doth justify. They call it faith, believing those things which they have heard of Christ; this kind of faith the devils also have, and yet they are not justified. But this ought rather to be called an opinion of men. To believe those things to be true which are preached of Christ is not sufficient to constitute thee a Christian, but thou must not doubt that thou art of the number of them unto whom all the benefits of Christ are given and exhibited; which he that believes must plainly confess, that he is holy, godly, righteous, the son of God, and certain of salvation; and that by no merit of his own, but by the mere mercy of God poured forth upon him for Christ's sake: which he believes to be so rich and plentiful, as indeed it is, that altho he be as it were drowned in sin, he is notwithstanding made holy, and become the son of God. Wherefore, take heed that thou nothing doubt that thou art the son of God, and therefore made righteous by His grace; let all fear and care be done away. However, thou must fear and tremble that thou mayest persevere in this way unto the end; but thou must not do this as tho it consisted in thy own strength, for righteousness and salvation are of grace, whereunto only thou must trust. But when thou knowest that it is of grace alone, and that thy faith also is the gift of God, thou shalt have cause to fear, lest some temptation violently move thee from this faith. Every one by faith is certain of this salvation; but we ought to have care and fear that we stand and persevere, trusting in the Lord, and not in our own strength. When those of the race of Cain hear faith treated of in this manner, they marvel at our madness, as it seems to them. God turn us from this way, say they, that we should affirm ourselves holy and godly; far be this arrogance and rashness from us: we are miserable sinners; we should be mad, if we should arrogate holiness to ourselves. Thus they mock at true faith, and count such doctrine as this execrable error; and thus try to extinguish the Gospel. These are they that deny the faith of Christ, and persecute it throughout the whole world; of whom Paul speaks: "In the latter times many shall depart from the faith," etc., for we see by these means that true faith lies everywhere opprest; it is not preached, but commonly disallowed and condemned. The pope, bishops, colleges, monasteries, and universities have more than five hundred years persecuted it with one mind and consent most obstinately, which has been the means of driving many to hell. If any object against the admiration, or rather the mad senselessness of these men, if we count ourselves even holy, trusting the goodness of God to justify us, or as David prayed, "Preserve Thou me, O Lord, for I am holy," or as Paul saith, "The Spirit of God beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of God"; they answer that the prophet and apostle would not teach us in these words, or give us an example which we should follow, but that they, being particularly and specially enlightened, received such revelation of themselves. In this way they misrepresent the Scripture, which affirms that they are holy, saying that such doctrine is not written for us, but that it is rather peculiar miracles, which do not belong to all. This forged imagination we account of as having come from their sickly brain. Again, they believe that they shall be made righteous and holy by their own works, and that because of them God will give them salvation and eternal blessedness. In the opinion of these men it is a Christian duty to think that we shall be righteous and sacred because of our works; but to believe that these things are given by the grace of God, they condemn as heretical; attributing that to their own works which they do not attribute to the grace of God. They that are endued with true faith, and rest upon the grace of the Lord, rejoice with holy joy, and apply themselves with pleasure to good works, not such as those of Cain's progeny do, as feigned prayers, fasting, base and filthy apparel, and such like trifles, but to true and good works whereby their neighbors are profited. Perhaps some godly man may think, if the matter be so, and our work do not save us, to what end are so many precepts given us, and why doth God require that they be obeyed? The present text of the apostle will give a solution of this question, and upon this occasion we will give an exposition thereof. The Galatians being taught of Paul the faith of Christ, but afterward seduced by false apostles, thought that our salvation must be finished and made perfect by the works of the law; and that faith alone doth not suffice. These Paul calls back again from works unto faith with great diligence; plainly proving that the works of the law, which go before faith, make us only servants, and are of no importance toward godliness and salvation; but that faith makes us the sons of God, and from thence good works without constraint forthwith plentifully flow. But here we must observe the words of the apostle; he calls him a servant that is occupied in works without faith, of which we have already treated at large; but he calls him a son which is righteous by faith alone. The reason is this, altho the servant apply himself to good works, yet he does it not with the same mind as doth the son; that is, with a mind free, willing, and certain that the inheritance and all the good things of the Father are his; but does it as he that is hired in another man's house, who hopes not that the inheritance shall come to him. The works indeed of the son and the servant are alike; and almost the same in outward appearance; but their minds differ exceedingly: as Christ saith, "The servant abideth not in the house forever, but the son abideth ever." Those of Cain's progeny want the faith of sons, which they confess themselves; for they think it most absurd, and wicked arrogancy, to affirm themselves to be the sons of God, and holy; therefore as they believe, even so are they counted before God; they neither become holy nor the sons of God, nevertheless are they exercised with the works of the law; wherefore they are and remain servants forever. They receive no reward except temporal things; such as quietness of life, abundance of goods, dignity, honor, etc., which we see to be common among the followers of popish religion. But this is their reward, for they are servants, and not sons; wherefore in death they shall be separated from all good things, neither shall any portion of the eternal inheritance be theirs, who in this life would believe nothing thereof. We perceive, therefore, that servants and sons are not unlike in works, but in mind and faith they have no resemblance. The apostle endeavors here to prove that the law with all the works thereof makes us but mere servants, if we have not faith in Christ; for this alone make us sons of God. It is the word of grace followed by the Holy Ghost, as is shown in many places, where we read of the Holy Ghost falling on Cornelius and his family while hearing the preaching of Peter. Paul teaches that no man is justified before God by the works of the law; for sin only cometh by the law. He that trusts in works condemns faith as the most pernicious arrogancy and error of all others. Here thou seest plainly that such a man is not righteous, being destitute of that faith and belief which is necessary to make him acceptable before God and His Son; yea, he is an enemy to this faith, and therefore to righteousness also. Thus it is easy to understand that which Paul saith, that no man is justified before God by the works of the law. The worker must be justified before God before he can work any good thing. Men judge the worker by the works; God judges the works by the worker. The first precept requires us to acknowledge and worship one God, that is, to trust Him alone, which is the true faith whereby we become the sons of God. Thou canst not be delivered from the evil of unbelief by thine own power, nor by the power of the law; wherefore all thy works which thou doest to satisfy the law can be nothing but works of the law; of far less importance than to be able to justify thee before God, who counteth them righteous only who truly believe in Him; for they that acknowledge Him the true God are His sons, and do truly fulfil the law. If thou shouldst even kill thyself by working, thy heart can not obtain this faith thereby, for thy works are even a hindrance to it, and cause thee to persecute it. He that studieth to fulfil the law without faith is afflicted for the devil's sake; and continues a persecutor both of faith and the law, until he come to himself, and cease to trust in his own works; he then gives glory to God, who justifies the ungodly, and acknowledges himself to be nothing, and sighs for the grace of God, of which he knows that he has need. Faith and grace now fill his empty mind, and satisfy his hunger; then follow works which are truly good; neither are they works of the law, but of the spirit, of faith and grace; they are called in the Scripture the works of God, which He worketh in us. Whatsoever we do of our own power and strength, that which is not wrought in us by His grace, without doubt is a work of the law, and avails nothing toward justification; but is displeasing to God, because of the unbelief wherein it is done. He that trusts in works does nothing freely and with a willing mind; he would do no good work at all if he were not compelled by the fear of hell, or allured by the hope of present good. Whereby it is plainly seen that they strive only for gain, or are moved with fear, showing that they rather hate the law from their hearts, and had rather there were no law at all. An evil heart can do nothing that is good. This evil propensity of the heart, and unwillingness to do good, the law betrays when it teaches that God does not esteem the works of the hand, but those of the heart. Thus sin is known by the law, as Paul teaches; for we learn thereby that our affections are not placed on that which is good. This ought to teach us not to trust in ourselves, but to long after the grace of God, whereby the evil of the heart may be taken away, and we become ready to do good works, and love the law voluntarily; not for fear of any punishment, but for the love of righteousness. By this means one is made of a servant, a son; of a slave an heir. We shall now come to treat more particularly of the text. Verse 1. "The heir, as long as he is a child, differeth nothing from a servant, tho he be lord of all." We see that the children unto whom their parents have left some substance are brought up no otherwise than if they were servants. They are fed and clothed with their goods, but they are not permitted to do with them, nor use them according to their own minds, but are ruled with fear and discipline of manners, so that even in their own inheritance they live no otherwise than as servants. After the same sort it is in spiritual things. God made with His people a covenant, when He promised that in the seed of Abraham, that is in Christ, all nations of the earth should be blest. That covenant was afterward confirmed by the death of Christ, and revealed and published abroad by the preaching gospel. For the gospel is an open and general preaching of this grace, that in Christ is laid up a blessing for all men that believe. Before this covenant is truly opened and made manifest to men, the sons of God live after the manner of servants under the law; and are exercised with the works of the law, altho they can not be justified by them; they are true heirs of heavenly things, of this blessing and grace of the covenant; altho they do not as yet know or enjoy it. Those that are justified by grace cease from the works of the law, and come unto the inheritance of justification; they then freely work those things that are good, to the glory of God and benefit of their neighbors. For they have possest it by the covenant of the Father, confirmed by Christ, revealed, published, and as it were delivered into their hands by the gospel, through the grace and mercy of God. This covenant Abraham, and all the fathers which were endued with true faith, had no otherwise than we have: altho before Christ was glorified this grace was not openly preached and published: they lived in like faith, and therefore obtained the like good things. They had the same grace, blessing, and covenant that we have; for there is one Father and God over all. Thou seest that Paul here, as in almost all other places, treats much of faith; that we are not justified by works, but by faith alone. There is no good thing which is not contained in this covenant of God; it gives righteousness, salvation, and peace. By faith the whole inheritance of God is at once received. From thence good works come; not meritorious, whereby thou mayest seek salvation, but which with a mind already possessing righteousness thou must do with great pleasure to the profit of thy neighbors. Verse 2. "But is under tutors and governors until the time appointed of the Father." Tutors and governors are they which bring up the heir, and so rule him and order his goods that he neither waste his inheritance by riotous living, nor his goods perish or be otherwise consumed. They permit him not to use his goods at his own will or pleasure, but suffer him to enjoy them as they shall be needful and profitable to him. They keep him at home, and instruct him whereby he may long and comfortably enjoy his inheritance: but as soon as he arrives to the years of discretion and judgment, it can not but be grievous to him to live in subjection to the commands and will of another. In the same manner stands the case of the children of God, which are brought up and instructed under the law, as under a master in the liberty of sons. The law profits them in this, that by the fear of it and the punishment which it threatens, they are driven from sin, at least from the outward work: by it they are brought to a knowledge of themselves, and that they do no good at all with a willing and ready mind as becomes sons; whereby they may easily see what is the root of this evil, and what is especially needful unto salvation; to wit, a new and living spirit to that which is good: which neither the law nor the works of the law is able to give; yea, the more they apply themselves to it, the more unwilling they find themselves to work those things which are good. Here they learn that they do not satisfy the law, altho outwardly they live according to its precepts. They pretend to obey it in works, altho in mind they hate it; they pretend themselves righteous, but they remain sinners. These are like unto those of Cain's progeny, and hypocrites; whose hands are compelled to do good, but their hearts consent unto sin and are subject thereto. To know this concerning one's self is not the lowest degree toward salvation. Paul calls such constrained works the works of the law; for they flow not from a ready and willing heart; howbeit the law does not require works alone, but the heart itself; wherefore it is said in the first psalm of the blest man, "But his delight is in the law of the Lord: and in His law doth he meditate day and night." Such a mind the law requires, but it gives it not; neither can it of its own nature: whereby it comes to pass that while the law continues to exact it of a man, and condemns him as long as he hath such a mind, as being disobedient to God, he is in anguish on every side; his conscience being grievously terrified. Then, indeed, is he most ready to receive the grace of God; this being the time appointed by the Father when his servitude shall end, and he enter into the liberty of the sons of God. For being thus in distress, and terrified, seeing that by no other means he can avoid the condemnation of the law, he prays to the Father for grace; he acknowledges his frailty, he confesses his sin, he ceases to trust in works, and humbles himself, perceiving that between him and a manifest sinner there is no difference at all except of works, that he hath a wicked heart, even as every other sinner hath. The condition of man's nature is such that it is able to give to the law works only, and not the heart; an unequal division, truly, to dedicate the heart, which, incomparably excels all other things, to sin, and the hand to the law: which is offering chaff to the law, and the wheat to sin; the shell to God, and the kernel to Satan; whose ungodliness if one reprove, they become enraged, and would even take the life of innocent Abel, and persecute all those that follow the truth. Those that trust in works seem to defend them to obtain righteousness; they promise to themselves a great reward for this, by persecuting heretics and blasphemers, as they say, who seduce with error, and entice many from good works. But those that God hath chosen, learn by the law how unwilling the heart is to conform to the works of the law; they fall from their arrogancy, and are by this knowledge of themselves brought to see their own unworthiness. Hereby they receive that covenant of the eternal blessing and the Holy Ghost which renews the heart: whereby they are delighted with the law, and hate sin; and are willing and ready to do those things which are good. This is the time appointed by the Father, when the heir must no longer remain a servant, but a son; being led by a free spirit, he is no more kept in subjection under tutors and governors after the manner of a servant; which is even that which Paul teaches in the following: Verse 3. "Even so we, when we were children, were in bondage under the elements of the word." By the word elements thou mayest here understand the first principles or law written; which is as it were the first exercises and instructions of holy learning; as it is said: "As concerning the time ye ought to be teachers, ye have need that one teach you again which be the first principles of the oracles of God." "Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world." "How turn ye again to the weak and beggarly elements, whereunto ye desire again to be in bondage." Here Paul calls the law rudiments; because it is not able to perform that righteousness which it requires. For whereas it earnestly requires a heart and mind given to godliness, nature is not able to satisfy it: herein it makes a man feel his poverty, and acknowledge his infirmity: it requires that of him by right which he has not, neither is able to have. "The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life." Paul calls them the rudiments of the world, which, not being renewed by the Spirit, only perform worldly things; to wit, in places, times, apparel, persons, vessels, and such like. But faith rests not in worldly things, but in the grace, word, and mercy of God: counting alike, days, meats, persons, apparel, and all things of this world. None of these by themselves either help or hinder godliness or salvation. With those of Cain's progeny, faith neither agrees in name or anything else; one of them eats flesh, another abstains from it; one wears black apparel, another white; one keeps this day holy, and another that; every one has his rudiments, under which he is in bondage: all of them are addicted to the things of the world, which are frail and perishable. Against these Paul speaks, "Wherefore, if ye be dead with Christ from the rudiments of the world, why, as tho living in the world, are ye subject to ordinances: touch not, taste not, handle not, which all are to perish with the using, after the commandments and doctrines of men? Which things have indeed a show of wisdom in will-worship and humility, and neglecting of the body; not in any honor to the satisfying of the flesh." By this and other places above mentioned, it is evident that monasteries and colleges, whereby we measure the state of spiritual men as we call them, plainly disagree with the Gospel and Christian liberty: and therefore it is much more dangerous to live in this kind of life than among the most profane men. All their works are nothing but rudiments and ordinances of the world; neither are they Christians but in name, wherefore all their life and holiness are sinful and most detestable hypocrisy. The fair show of feigned holiness which is in those ordinances does, in a marvelous and secret manner, withdraw from faith more than those manifest and gross sins of which open sinners are guilty. Now this false and servile opinion faith alone takes away, and teaches us to trust in, and rest upon, the grace of God, whereby is given freely that which is needful to work all things. Verse 4. "But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth His Son, made of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons." After Paul had taught us that righteousness and faith can not come to us by the law, neither can we deserve it by nature, he shows us by whom we obtain it; and who is the author of our justification. The apostle saith, "When the fulness of the time was come"; here Paul speaks of the time which was appointed by the Father to the Son, wherein He should live under tutors, etc. This time being come to the Jews, and ended, Christ came in the flesh; so it is daily fulfilled to others, when they come to the knowledge of Christ, and change the servitude of the law for the faith of sons. Christ for this cause came unto us, that believing in Him we may be restored to true liberty; by which faith they of ancient times also obtained the liberty of the Spirit. As soon as thou believest in Christ, He comes to thee, a deliverer and Savior; and now the time of bondage is ended; as the apostle saith, the fulness thereof is come. Verse 6. "And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father." Here we see plainly that the Holy Ghost cometh to the saints, not by works, but by faith alone. Sons believe, while servants only work; sons are free from the law, servants are held under the law, as appears by those things that have been before spoken. But how comes it to pass that he saith "because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit," etc., seeing it is before said that by the coming of the Spirit we are changed from servants to sons: but here, as tho we could be sons before the coming of the Spirit, he saith "because ye are sons," etc. To this question we must answer, that Paul speaks here in the same manner that he did before, that is, before the fulness of the time came, we were in bondage under the rudiments of the world: all that shall become sons are counted in the place of sons with God: therefore he saith rightly, "because ye are sons," that is, because the state of sons is appointed to you from everlasting, "God hath sent forth the Spirit of His Son," to wit, that He might finish it in you, and make you such as He hath long since of His goodness determined that He would make you. Now if the Father give unto us His Spirit, He will make us His true sons and heirs, that we may with confidence cry with Christ, Abba, Father; being His brethren and fellow heirs. The apostle has well set forth the goodness of God which makes us partakers with Christ, and causes us to have all things common with Him, so that we live and are led by the same Spirit. These words of the apostle show that the Holy Ghost proceeds from Christ, as he calls Him his Spirit. So God hath sent forth the Spirit of His Son, that is, of Christ, for He is the Spirit of God, and comes from God to us, and not ours, unless one will say after this manner, "my Holy Spirit," as we say, "my God," "my Lord," etc. As He is said to be the Holy Spirit of Christ, it proves Him to be God of whom that Spirit is sent, therefore it is counted His Spirit. Christians may perceive by this whether they have in themselves the Holy Ghost, to wit, the Spirit of sons; whether they hear His voice in their hearts: for Paul saith, He crieth in the hearts which He possesseth, Abba, Father; he saith also, "We have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry Abba, Father." Thou hearest this voice when thou findest so much faith in thyself that thou dost assuredly, without doubting, presume that not only thy sins are forgiven thee, but also that thou art the beloved Son of God, who, being certain of eternal salvation, durst both call Him Father, and be delighted in Him with a joyful and confident heart. To doubt these things brings a reproach upon the death of Christ, as tho He had not obtained all things for us. It may be that thou shalt be so tempted as to fear and doubt, and think plainly that God is not a favorable Father, but a wrathful revenger of sins, as it happened with Job, and many other saints: but in such a conflict this trust and confidence that thou art a son ought to prevail and overcome. It is said "The Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which can not be uttered; and that He beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of God." How can it therefore be that our hearts should not hear this cry and testimony of the Spirit? But if thou dost not feel this cry, take heed that thou be not slothful and secure; pray constantly, for thou art in an evil state. Cain saith, "My punishment is greater than I can bear. Behold, Thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the earth, and from Thy face shall I be hid; and it shall come to pass that every one that findeth me shall slay me." This is a dreadful and terrible cry, which is heard from all Cain's progeny, all such as trust to themselves and their own works, who put not their trust in the Son of God, neither consider that He was sent from the Father, made of a woman under the law, much less that all these things were done for their salvation. And while their ungodliness is not herewith content, they begin to persecute even the sons of God, and grow so cruel that, after the example of their father Cain, they can not rest until they slay their righteous brother Abel, wherefore the blood of Christ continually cries out against them nothing but punishment and vengeance; but for the heirs of salvation it cries by the Spirit of Christ for nothing but grace and reconciliation. The apostle here uses a Syrian and Greek word, saying, Abba, Pater. This word Abba, in the Syrian tongue, signifies a father, by which name the heads of monasteries are still called; and by the same name, hermits in times past, being holy men, called their presidents: at last, by use, it was also made a Latin word. Therefore that which Paul saith is as much as Father, Father; or if thou hadst rather, "my Father." Verse 7. "Wherefore thou art no more a servant, but a son, and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ." He saith, that after the coming of the Spirit, after the knowledge of Christ, "thou art not a servant." A son is free and willing, a servant is compelled and unwilling; a son liveth and resteth in faith, a servant in works. Therefore it appears that we can not obtain salvation of God by works, but before thou workest that which is acceptable to Him, it is necessary that thou receive salvation; then good works will freely flow, to the honor of thy heavenly Father, and to the profit of thy neighbors; without any fear of punishment, or looking for reward. If this inheritance of the Father be thine by faith, surely thou art rich in all things, before thou hast wrought any thing. It is said "Your salvation is prepared and reserved in heaven, to be showed in the last time," wherefore the works of a Christian ought to have no regard to merit, which is the manner of servants, but only for the use and benefit of our neighbors, whereby we may truly live to the glory of God. Lest that any think that so great an inheritance cometh to us without cost (altho it be given to us without our cost or merit), yet it cost Christ a dear price, who, that He might purchase it for us, was made under the law, and satisfied it for us, both by life and also by death. Those benefits which from love we bestow upon our neighbor, come to him freely, without any charges or labor of his, notwithstanding they cost us something, even as Christ hath bestowed those things which are His upon us. Thus hath Paul called back the Galatians from the teachers of works, which preached nothing but the law, perverting the Gospel of Christ. Which things are very necessary to be marked of us also: for the Pope, with his prelates and monks hath for a long time intruded, urging his laws, which are foolish and pernicious, disagreeing in every respect with the Word of God, seducing almost the whole world from the gospel of Christ, and plainly extinguishing the faith of sons, as the Scripture hath in diverse places manifestly prophesied of His kingdom. Wherefore let every one that desires salvation, diligently take heed of him and his followers, no otherwise than Satan himself. LATIMER ON CHRISTIAN LOVE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Hugh Latimer, reformer and martyr, was born in Leicestershire, England, in 1485, or two years later than Luther. On completing an education at Cambridge, he took holy orders and preached strenuously in favor of the Lutheran views. As a profound canonist, he was placed on the commission appointed to decide on the legality of Henry VII's marriage with Katharine of Aragon. His decision in favor of Henry gained him a royal chaplaincy and a living. Appointed Bishop of Worcester in 1535, he preached boldly the reformed doctrines, but lost favor at court, and when Gardiner and Bonner pushed a reactionary movement to the front, he retired from his see (1539). Latimer lived in peaceful retirement under Edward VI, but under Mary he, with other reformers, was arrested and thrown into the Tower. Brought to Oxford for examination, he refused to recant, and was confined for a year in the common prison, and on October 16, 1555, put to death by fire, along with Ridley, at a place opposite Balliol College, where the Martyr's Memorial was subsequently erected. LATIMER 1485--1555 ON CHRISTIAN LOVE _This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you_.--John xv., 12. Seeing the time is so far spent, we will take no more in hand at this time than this one sentence; for it will be enough for us to consider this well, and to bear it away with us. "This I command unto you, that ye love one another." Our Savior himself spake these words at His last supper: it was the last sermon that He made unto His disciples before His departure; it is a very long sermon. For our Savior, like as one that knows he shall die shortly, is desirous to spend that little time that He has with His friends, in exhorting and instructing them how they should lead their lives. Now among other things that He commanded this was one: "This I command unto you, that ye love one another." The English expresses as tho it were but one, "This is my commandment." I examined the Greek, where it is in the plural number, and very well; for there are many things that pertain to a Christian man, and yet all those things are contained in this one thing, that is, love. He lappeth up all things in love. Our whole duty is contained in these words, "Love together." Therefore St. Paul saith, "He that loveth another fulfilleth the whole law"; so it appeareth that all things are contained in this word love. This love is a precious thing; our Savior saith, "By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye shall love one another." So Christ makes love His cognizance, His badge, His livery. Like as every lord commonly gives a certain livery to his servants, whereby they may be known that they pertain unto him; and so we say, yonder is this lord's servants, because they wear his livery: so our Savior, who is the Lord above all lords, would have His servants known by their liveries and badge, which badge is love alone. Whosoever now is endued with love and charity is His servant; him we may call Christ's servant; for love is the token whereby you may know that such a servant pertaineth to Christ; so that charity may be called the very livery of Christ. He that hath charity is Christ's servant; he that hath not charity is the servant of the devil. For as Christ's livery is love and charity, so the devil's livery is hatred, malice and discord. But I think the devil has a great many more servants than Christ has; for there are a great many more in his livery than in Christ's livery; there are but very few who are endued with Christ's livery; with love and charity, gentleness and meekness of spirit; but there are a great number that bear hatred and malice in their hearts, that are proud, stout, and lofty; therefore the number of the devil's servants is greater than the number of Christ's servants. Now St. Paul shows how needful this love is. I speak not of carnal love, which is only animal affection; but of this charitable love, which is so necessary that when a man hath it, without all other things it will suffice him. Again, if a man have all other things and lacketh that love it will not help him, it is all vain and lost. St. Paul used it so: "Tho I speak with tongues of men and angels, and yet had no love, I were even as sounding brass, or as a tinkling cymbal. And tho I could prophesy and understand all secrets and all knowledge; yet if I had faith, so that I could move mountains out of their places, and yet had no love, I were nothing. And tho I bestowed all my goods to feed the poor, and tho I gave my body even that I were burned, and yet had no love, it profiteth me nothing" (I Cor. xiii). These are godly gifts, yet St. Paul calls them nothing when a man hath them without charity; which is a great commendation, and shows the great need of love, insomuch that all other virtues are in vain when this love is absent. And there have been some who taught that St. Paul spake against the dignity of faith; but you must understand that St. Paul speaks here not of the justifying faith, wherewith we receive everlasting life, but he understands by this word faith the gift to do miracles, to remove hills; of such a faith he speaks. This I say to confirm this proposition. Faith only justifieth; this proposition is most true and certain. And St. Paul speaks not here of this lively justifying faith; for this right faith is not without love, for love cometh and floweth out of faith; love is a child of faith; for no man can love except he believe, so that they have two several offices, they themselves being inseparable. St. Paul has an expression in the 13th chapter of the first of the Corinthians, which, according to the outward letter, seems much to the dispraise of this faith, and to the praise of love; these are his words, "Now abideth faith, hope and love, even these three; but the chiefest of these is love." There are some learned men who expound the greatness of which St. Paul speaketh here as if meant for eternity. For when we come to God, then we believe no more, but rather see with our eyes face to face how He is; yet for all that love remains still; so that love may be called the chiefest, because she endureth forever. And tho she is the chiefest, yet we must not attribute unto her the office which pertains unto faith only. Like as I can not say, the Mayor of Stamford must make me a pair of shoes because he is a greater man than the shoemaker is; for the mayor, tho he is a greater man, yet it is not his office to make shoes; so tho love be greater, yet it is not her office to save. Thus much I thought good to say against those who fight against the truth. Now, when we would know who are in Christ's livery or not, we must learn it of St. Paul, who most evidently described charity, which is the only livery, saying, "Love is patient, she suffereth long." Now whosoever fumeth and is angry, he is out of this livery: therefore let us remember that we do not cast away the livery of Christ our Master. When we are in sickness, or any manner of adversities, our duty is to be patient, to suffer willingly, and to call upon Him for aid, help and comfort; for without Him we are not able to abide any tribulation. Therefore we must call upon God, He has promised to help: therefore let me not think Him to be false or untrue to His promises, for we can not dishonor God more than by not believing or trusting in Him. Therefore let us beware above all things of dishonoring God; and so we must be patient, trusting and most certainly believing that He will deliver us when it seems good to Him, who knows the time better than we ourselves. "Charity is gentle, friendly, and loving; she envieth not." They that envy their neighbor's profit when it goes well with him, such fellows are out of their liveries, and so out of the service of God; for to be envious is to be the servant of the devil. "Love doth not frowardly, she is not a provoker"; as there are some men who will provoke their neighbor so far that it is very hard for them to be in charity with them; but we must wrestle with our affections; we must strive and see that we keep this livery of Christ our master; for "the devil goeth about as a roaring lion seeking to take us at a vantage," to bring us out of our liveries, and to take from us the knot of love and charity. "Love swelleth not, is not puffed up"; but there are many swellers nowadays, they are so high, so lofty, insomuch that they despise and contemn all others; all such persons are under the governance of the devil. God rules not them with His good spirit; the evil spirit has occupied their hearts and possest them. "She doth not dishonestly; she seeketh not her own; she doth all things to the commodity of her neighbors." A charitable man will not promote himself with the damage of his neighbor. They that seek only their own advantage, forgetting their neighbors, they are not of God, they have not His livery. Further, "Charity is not provoked to anger; she thinketh not evil." We ought not to think evil of our neighbor, as long as we see not open wickedness; for it is written, "You shall not judge"; we should not take upon us to condemn our neighbor. And surely the condemners of other men's works are not in the livery of Christ. Christ hateth them. "She rejoiceth not in iniquity"; she loveth equity and godliness. And again, she is sorry to hear of falsehood, of stealing, or such like, which wickedness is now at this time commonly used. There never was such falsehood among Christian men as there is now, at this time; truly I think, and they that have experience report it so, that among the very infidels and Turks there is more fidelity and uprightness than among Christian men. For no man setteth anything by his promise, yea, and writings will not serve with some; they are so shameless that they dare deny their own handwriting; but, I pray you, are those false fellows in the livery of Christ? Have they His cognizance? No, no; they have the badge of the devil, with whom they shall be damned world without end, except they amend and leave their wickedness. "She suffereth all things; she believeth all things." It is a great matter that should make us to be grieved with our neighbor; we should be patient when our neighbor doth wrong, we should admonish him of his folly, earnestly desiring him to leave his wickedness, showing the danger that follows, everlasting damnation. In such wise we should study to amend our neighbor, and not to hate him or do him a foul turn again, but rather charitably study to amend him: whosoever now does so, he has the livery and cognizance of Christ, he shall be known at the last day for his servant. "Love believeth all things"; it appears daily that they who are charitable and friendly are most deceived; because they think well of every man, they believe every man, they trust their words, and therefore are most deceived in this world, among the children of the devil. These and such like things are the tokens of the right and godly love; therefore they that have this love are soon known, for this love can not be hid in corners, she has her operation: therefore all that have her are well enough, tho they have no other gifts besides her. Again, they that lack her, tho they have many other gifts besides, yet is it to no other purpose, it does then no good: for when we shall come at the great day before him, not having this livery (that is love) with us, then we are lost; he will not take us for His servants, because we have not His cognizance. But if we have this livery, if we wear His cognizance here in this world; that is, if we love our neighbor, help him in his distress, are charitable, loving, and friendly unto him, then we shall be known at the last day: but if we be uncharitable toward our neighbor, hate him, seek our own advantage with His damage, then we shall be rejected of Christ and so damned world without end. Our Savior saith here in this gospel, "I command you these things"; He speaketh in the plural number, and lappeth it up in one thing, which is that we should love one another, much like St. Paul's saying in the 13th to the Romans, "Owe nothing to any man, but to love one another." Here St. Paul lappeth up all things together, signifying unto us that love is the consummation of the law; for this commandment, "Thou shalt not commit adultery," is contained in this law of love: for he that loveth God will not break wedlock, because wedlock-breaking is a dishonoring of God and a serving of the devil. "Thou shalt not kill"; he that loveth will not kill, he will do no harm. "Thou shalt not steal"; he that loveth his neighbor as himself will not take away his goods. I had of late occasion to speak of picking and stealing, where I showed unto you the danger wherein they are that steal their neighbor's goods from them, but I hear nothing yet of restitution. Sirs, I tell you, except restitution is made, look for no salvation. And it is a miserable and heinous thing to consider that we are so blinded with this world that, rather than we would make restitution, we will sell unto the devil our souls which are bought with the blood of our Savior Christ. What can be done more to the dishonoring of Christ than to cast our souls away to the devil for the value of a little money?--the soul which He has bought with His painful passion and death. But I tell you those that will do so, and that will not make restitution when they have done wrong, or taken away their neighbor's goods, they are not in the livery of Christ, they are not his servants; let them go as they will in this world, yet for all that they are foul and filthy enough before God; they stink before His face; and therefore they shall be cast from His presence into everlasting fire; this shall be all their good cheer that they shall have, because they have not the livery of Christ, nor His cognizance, which is love. They remember not that Christ commanded us, saying, "This I command you, that ye love one another." This is Christ's commandment. Moses, the great prophet of God, gave many laws, but he gave not the spirit to fulfil the same laws: but Christ gave this law, and promised unto us, that when we call upon Him He will give us His Holy Ghost, who shall make us able to fulfil His laws, tho not so perfectly as the law requires; but yet to the contention of God, and to the protection of our faith; for as long as we are in this world, we can do nothing as we ought to do, because our flesh leadeth us, which is ever bent against the law of God; yet our works which we do are well taken for Christ's sake, and God will reward them in heaven. Therefore our Savior saith, "my yoke is easy, and my burden is light," because He helpeth to bear them; else indeed we should not be able to bear them. And in another place He saith, "His commandments are not heavy"; they are heavy to our flesh, but being qualified with the Spirit of God, to the faithful which believe in Christ, to them, I say, they are not heavy; for tho their doings are not perfect, yet they are well taken for Christ's sake. You must not be offended because the Scripture commends love so highly, for he that commends the daughter commends the mother; for love is the daughter, and faith is the mother: love floweth out of faith; where faith is, there is love; but yet we must consider their offices, faith is the hand wherewith we take hold on everlasting life. Now let us enter into ourselves, and examine our own hearts, whether we are in the livery of God, or not: and when we find ourselves to be out of this livery, let us repent and amend our lives, so that we may come again to the favor of God, and spend our time in this world to His honor and glory, forgiving our neighbors all such things as they have done against us. And now to make an end: mark here who gave this precept of love--Christ our Savior Himself. When and at what time? At His departing, when He should suffer death. Therefore these words ought the more to be regarded, seeing He Himself spake them at His last departing from us. May God of His mercy give us grace so to walk here in this world, charitably and friendly one with another, that we may attain the joy which God hath prepared for all those that love Him. Amen. MELANCHTHON THE SAFETY OF THE VIRTUOUS BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Philip Melanchthon (Schwarzerd) was born at Bretten, in Baden, in 1497. His name is noteworthy as first a fellow laborer and eventually a controversial antagonist of Luther. At the Diet of Augsburg, in 1530, he was the leading representative of the Reformation. He formulated the twenty-eight articles of the evangelical faith known as the "Augsburg Confession." The Lutherans of extreme Calvinistic views were alienated by Melanchthon's subsequent modifications of this confession, and by his treatises in ethics. He and his followers were bitterly assailed, but his irenic spirit did not forsake him. He was a true child of the Renaissance, and is styled by some writers "the founder of general learning throughout Europe." While he was never called or ordained to the ministry of the Church, he was in the habit of addressing the local religious assemblies or collegia from time to time, and, being a man of profound piety, his sympathetic and natural style of delivery made him an impressive speaker. He died in 1560, and his body was laid beside that of Martin Luther. MELANCHTHON 1497--1560 THE SAFETY OF THE VIRTUOUS _Neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand._--John x, 28. To Thee, almighty and true God, eternal Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, maker of heaven and earth, and of all creatures, together with Thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost--to Thee, the wise, good, true, righteous, compassionate, pure, gracious God, we render thanks that Thou hast hitherto upheld the Church in these lands, and graciously afforded it protection and care, and we earnestly beseech Thee evermore to gather among us an inheritance for Thy Son, which may praise Thee to all eternity. I have in these, our assemblies, often uttered partly admonitions and partly reproofs, which I hope the most of you will bear in mind. But since I must presume that now the hearts of all are wrung with a new grief and a new pang by reason of the war in our neighborhood, this season seems to call for a word of consolation. And, as we commonly say, "Where the pain is there one claps his hand," I could not, in this so great affliction, make up my mind to turn my discourse upon any other subject. I do not, indeed, doubt that you yourselves seek comfort in the divine declarations, yet will I also bring before you some things collected therefrom, because always that on which we had ourselves thought becomes more precious to us when we hear that it proves itself salutary also to others. And because long discourses are burdensome in time of sorrow and mourning, I will, without delay, bring forward that comfort which is the most effectual. Our pains are best assuaged when something good and beneficial, especially some help toward a happy issue, presents itself. All other topics of consolation, such as men borrow from the unavoidableness of suffering, and the examples of others, bring us no great alleviation. But the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, who was crucified for us and raised again, and now sits at the right hand of the Father, offers us help and deliverance, and has manifested this disposition in many declarations. I will now speak of the words: "No man shall pluck my sheep out of my hand." This expression has often raised me up out of the deepest sorrow, and drawn me, as it were, out of hell. The wisest men in all times have bewailed the great amount of human misery which we see with our eyes before we pass into eternity--diseases, death, want, our own errors, by which we bring harm and punishment on ourselves, hostile men, unfaithfulness on the part of those with whom we are closely connected, banishment, abuse, desertion, miserable children, public and domestic strife, wars, murder, and devastation. And since such things appear to befall good and bad without distinction, many wise men have inquired whether there were any Providence, or whether accident brings everything to pass independent of a divine purpose? But we in the Church know that the first and principal cause of human woe is this, that on account of sin man is made subject to death and other calamity, which is so much more vehement in the Church, because the devil, from the hatred toward God, makes fearful assaults on the Church and strives to destroy it utterly. Therefore it is written: "I will put enmity between the serpent and the seed of the woman." And Peter says: "Your adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about and seeketh whom he may devour." Not in vain, however, has God made known to us the causes of our misery. We should not only consider the greatness of our necessity, but also discern the causes of it, and recognize His righteous anger against sin, to the end that we may, on the other hand, perceive the Redeemer and the greatness of His compassion; and as witnesses to these, His declarations, He adds the raising of dead men to life, and other miracles. Let us banish from our hearts, therefore, the unbelieving opinions which imagine that evils befall us by mere chance, or from physical causes. But when thou considerest the wounds in thy own circle of relations, or dost cast a glance at the public disorders in the State, which again afflict the individual also (as Solon says: "The general corruption penetrates even to thy quiet habitation"), then think, first, of thy own and others' sins, and of the righteous wrath of God; and, secondly, weigh the rage of the devil, who lets loose his hate chiefly in the Church. In all men, even the better class, great darkness reigns. We see not how great an evil sin is, and regard not ourselves as so shamefully defiled. We flatter ourselves, in particular, because we profess a better doctrine concerning God. Nevertheless, we resign ourselves to a careless slumber, or pamper each one his own desires; our impurity, the disorders of the Church, the necessity of brethren, fills us not with pain; devotion is without fire and fervor; zeal for doctrine and discipline languishes, and not a few are my sins, and thine, and those of many others, by reason of which such punishments are heaped upon us. Let us, therefore, apply our hearts to repentance, and direct our eyes to the Son of God, in respect to whom we have the assurance that, after the wonderful counsel of God, He is placed over the family of man, to be the protector and preserver of his Church. We perceive not fully either of our wretchedness or our dangers, or the fury of enemies, until after events of extraordinary sorrowfulness. Still we ought to reflect thus: there must exist great need and a fearful might and rage of enemies, since so powerful a protector has been given to us, even God's Son. When He says: "No man shall pluck my sheep out of my hand," He indicates that He is no idle spectator of woe, but that mighty and incessant strife is going on. The devil incites his tools to disturb the Church or the political commonwealth, that boundless confusion may enter, followed by heathenish desolation. But the Son of God, who holds in His hands, as it were, the congregation of those who call upon His name, hurls back the devils by His infinite power, conquers and chases them thence, and will one day shut them up in the prison of hell, and punish them to all eternity with fearful pains. This comfort we must hold fast in regard to the entire Church, as well as each in regard to himself. If, in these distracted and warring times, we see States blaze up and fall to ruin, then look away to the Son of God, who stands in the secret counsel of the Godhead and guards His little flock and carries the weak lambs, as it were, in His own hands. Be persuaded that by Him thou also shalt be protected and upheld. Here some, not rightly instructed, will exclaim: "Truly I could wish to commend myself to such a keeper, but only His sheep does He preserve. Whether I also am counted in that flock, I know not." Against this doubt we must most strenuously contend, for the Lord Himself assures us in this very passage, that all who "hear and with faith receive the voice of the gospel are His sheep"; and He says expressly: "If a man love me, he will keep my words, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our abode with him." These promises of the Son of God, which can not be shaken, we must confidently appropriate to ourselves. Nor shouldst thou, by thy doubts, exclude thyself from this blest flock, which originates in the righteousness of the gospel. They do not rightly distinguish between the law and the gospel, who, because they are unworthy, reckon not themselves among the sheep. Rather is this consolation afforded us, that we are accepted "for the Son of God's sake," truly, without merit, not on account of our own righteousness, but through faith, because we are unworthy, and impure, and far from having fulfilled the law of God. That is, moreover, a universal promise, in which the Son of God saith: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." The eternal Father earnestly commands that we should hear the Son, and it is the greatest of all transgressions if we despise Him and do not approve His voice. This is what every one should often and diligently consider, and in this disposition of the Father, revealed through the Son, find grace. Altho, amid so great disturbances, many a sorrowful spectacle meets thine eye, and the Church is rent by discord and hate, and manifold and domestic public necessity is added thereto, still let not despair overcome thee, but know thou that thou hast the Son of God for a keeper and protector, who will not suffer either the Church, or thee, or thy family, to be plucked out of His hand by the fury of the devil. With all my heart, therefore, do I supplicate the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, who, having been crucified for us, and raised again, sits at the right hand of the Father, to bless men with His gifts, and to Him I pray that He would protect and govern this little church and me therein. Other sure trust, in this great flame when the whole world is on fire, I discern nowhere. Each one has his separate hopes, and each one with his understanding seeks to repose in something else; but however good that may all be, it is still a far better, and unquestionably a more effectual, consolation to flee to the Son of God and expect help and deliverances from Him. Such wishes will not be in vain. For to this end are we laden with such a crowd of dangers, that in events and occurrences which to human prudence are an inexplicable enigma, we may recognize the infinite goodness and presentness of God, in that He, for His Son's sake, and through His Son, affords us aid. God will be owned in such deliverance just as in the deliverance of your first parents, who, after the fall, when they were forsaken by all the creatures, were upheld by the help of God alone. So was the family of Noah in the flood, so were the Israelites preserved when in the Red Sea they stood between the towering walls of waters. These glorious examples are held up before us, that we might know, in like manner, the Church, without the help of any created beings, is often preserved. Many in all times have experienced such divine deliverance and support in their personal dangers, as David saith: "My father and my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord taketh me up"; and in another place David saith: "He hath delivered the wretched, who hath no helper." But in order that we may become partakers of these so great blessings, faith and devotion must be kindled within us, as it stands written, "Verily, I say unto you!" So likewise must our faith be exercised, that before deliverance we should pray for help and wait for it, resting in God with a certain cheerfulness of soul; and that we should not cherish continual doubt and melancholy murmuring in our hearts, but constantly set before our eyes the admonition of God: "The peace of God which passeth all understanding keep your heart and mind"; which is to say, be so comforted in God, in time of danger, that your hearts, having been strengthened by confidence in the pity and presentness of God, may patiently wait for help and deliverance, and quietly maintain that peaceful serenity which is the beginning of eternal life, and without which there can be no true devotion. For distrust and doubt produce a gloomy and terrible hate toward God, and that is the beginning of the eternal torments, and a rage like that of the devil. Now you must guard against these billows in the soul, and these stormy agitations, and, by meditation on the precious promises of God, keep and establish your hearts. Truly these times allow not the wonted security and the wonted intoxication of the world, but they demand that with honest groans we should cry for help, as the Lord saith, "Watch and pray that ye fall not into temptation," that ye may not, being overcome by despair, plunge into everlasting destruction. There is need of wisdom to discern the dangers of the soul, as well as the safeguard against them. Souls go to ruin as well when, in epicurean security, they make light of the wrath of God as when they are overcome by doubt and cast down by anxious sorrow, and these transgressions aggravate the punishment. The godly, on the other hand, who by faith and devotion keep their hearts erect and near to God, enjoy the beginning of eternal life and obtain mitigation of the general distress. We, therefore, implore Thee, Son of God, Lord Jesus Christ, who, having been crucified and raised for us, standest in the secret counsel of the Godhead, and makest intercession for us, and hast said: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." I call upon Thee, and with my whole heart beseech Thee, according to Thine infinite compassion, forgive us our sins. Thou knowest that in our great weakness we are not able to bear the burden of our woe. Do Thou, therefore, afford us aid in our private and public necessities; be Thou our shelter and protector, uphold the churches in these lands, and all which serves for their defense and safeguard. KNOX THE FIRST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Knox, the great Scottish reformer, was born at Giffordgate, four miles from Haddington, Scotland, in 1505. He first made his appearance as a preacher in Edinburgh, where he thundered against popery, but was imprisoned and sent to the galleys in 1546. In 1547 Edward VI secured his release and made him a royal chaplain, when he acquired the friendship of Cranmer and other reformers. On the accession of Mary (1553) he took refuge on the Continent. In 1556 he accepted the charge of a church in Geneva, but, after three years of tranquillity, returned to Scotland and became a popular leader of the Reformation in that country. His eloquence lashed the multitude to enthusiasm and acts of turbulent violence. As a preacher his style was direct and fearless, often fiery, and he had a habit of pounding the pulpit to emphasize particular truths. He died in 1572. KNOX 1505--1572 THE FIRST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST _Then was Jesus led up of the Spirit into the wilderness, to be tempted of the devil_.--Matt. iv., 1. The cause moving me to treat of this place of Scripture is, that such as by the inscrutable providence of God fall into divers temptations, judge not themselves by reason thereof to be less acceptable in God's presence. But, on the contrary, having the way prepared to victory by Jesus Christ, they shall not fear above measure the crafty assaults of that subtle serpent Satan; but with joy and bold courage, having such a guide as here is pointed forth, such a champion, and such weapons as here are to be found (if with obedience we will hear, and unfeigned faith believe), we may assure ourselves of God's present favor, and of final victory, by the means of Him, who, for our safeguard and deliverance, entered in the battle, and triumphed over His adversary, and all his raging fury. And that this being heard and understood, may the better be kept in memory; this order, by God's grace, we propose to observe, in treating the matter: First, What this word temptation meaneth, and how it is used within the Scriptures. Secondly, Who is here tempted and at what time this temptation happened. Thirdly, How and by what means He was tempted. Fourthly, Why He should suffer these temptations, and what fruits ensue to us from the same. First, Temptation, or to tempt, in the Scriptures of God, is called to try, to prove, or to assault the valor, the power, the will, the pleasure, or the wisdom--whether it be of God, or of creatures. And it is taken sometimes in good part, as when it is said that God tempted Abraham; God tempted the people of Israel; that is, God did try and examine them, not for His own knowledge, to whom nothing is hid, but to certify others how obedient Abraham was to God's commandment, and how weak and inferior Israelites were in their journey toward the promised land. And this temptation is always good, because it proceeds immediately from God, to open and make manifest the secret motions of men's hearts, the puissance and power of God's word, and the great lenity and gentleness of God toward the iniquities (yea, horrible sins and rebellions) of those whom He hath received into His regimen and care. For who could have believed that the bare word of God could so have moved the heart and affections of Abraham, that to obey God's commandment he determined to kill, with his own hand, his best-beloved son Isaac? Who could have trusted that, so many torments as Job suffered, he should not speak in all his great temptation one foolish word against God? Or who could have thought that God so mercifully should have pardoned so many and so manifest transgressions committed by His people in the desert, and yet that His mercy never utterly left them, but still continued with them, till at length he performed His promise made to Abraham? Who, I say, would have been persuaded of these things, unless by trials and temptations taken of His creatures by God, they had come by revelation made in His holy Scriptures to our knowledge? And so this kind of temptation is profitable, good, and necessary, as a thing proceeding from God, who is the fountain of all goodness, to the manifestation of His own glory, and to the profit of the suffered, however the flesh may judge in the hour of temptation. Otherwise temptation, or to tempt, is taken in evil part; that is, he that assaults or assails intends destruction and confusion to him that is assaulted. As when Satan tempted the women in the garden, Job by divers tribulations, and David by adultery. The scribes and Pharisees tempted Christ by divers means, questions, and subtleties. And of this matter, saith St. James, "God tempteth no man"; that is, by temptation proceeding immediately from Him He intends no man's destruction. And here you shall note, that altho Satan appears sometimes to prevail against God's elect, yet he is ever frustrated of his final purpose. By temptation He led Eve and David from the obedience of God, but He could not retain them forever under His thraldom. Power was granted to Him to spoil Job of his substance and children, and to strike his body with a plague and sickness most vile and fearful, but He could not compel his mouth to blaspheme God's majesty; and, therefore, altho we are laid open sometimes, as it were, to tribulation for a time, it is that when He has poured forth the venom of His malice against God's elect it may return to His own confusion, and that the deliverance of God's children may be more to His glory, and the comfort of the afflicted: knowing that His hand is so powerful, His mercy and good-will so prompt, that He delivers His little ones from their cruel enemy, even as David did his sheep and lambs from the mouth of the lion. For a little benefit received in extreme danger more moves us than the preservation from ten thousand perils, so that we fall not into them. And yet to preserve from dangers and perils so that we fall not into them, whether they are of body or spirit, is no less the work of God than to deliver from them; but the weakness of our faith does not perceive it: this I leave at the present. Also, to tempt means simply to prove or try without any determinate purpose or profit or damage to ensue; as when the mind doubteth of anything, and therein desires to be satisfied, without great love or extreme hatred of the thing that is tempted or tried. David tempted; that is, tried himself if he could go in harness. (I Sam. xvii.) And Gideon said, "Let not thine anger kindle against me, if I tempt thee once again." So the Queen of Sheba came to tempt Solomon in subtle questions. This famous queen, not fully trusting the report and fame that was spread of Solomon, by subtle questions desired to prove his wisdom; at the first, neither extremely hating nor fervently loving the person of the king. And David, as a man not accustomed to harness, would try how he was able to go, and behave and fashion himself therein, before he would hazard battle with Goliath so armed. And Gideon, not satisfied in his conscience by the first that he received, desired, without contempt or hatred of God, a second time to be certified of his vocation. In this sense must the apostle be expounded when he commands us to tempt; that is, to try and examine ourselves, if we stand in the faith. Thus much for the term. Now to the person tempted, and to the time and place of his temptation. The person tempted is the only well-beloved Son of God; the time was immediately after His baptism; and the place was the desert or wilderness. But that we derive advantage from what is related, we must consider the same more profoundly. That the Son of God was thus tempted gives instructions to us, that temptations, altho they be ever so grievous and fearful, do not separate us from God's favor and mercy, but rather declare the great graces of God to appertain to us, which makes Satan to rage as a roaring lion; for against none does He so fiercely fight as against those of whose hearts Christ has taken possession. The time of Christ's temptation is here most diligently to be noted. And that was, as Mark and Luke witness, immediately after the voice of God the Father had commended His Son to the world, and had visibly pointed to Him by the sign of the Holy Ghost; He was led or moved by the Spirit to go to a wilderness, where forty days he remained fasting among the wild beasts. This Spirit which led Christ into the wilderness was not the devil, but the holy Spirit of God the Father, by whom Christ, as touching His human and manly nature, was conducted and led; likewise by the same Spirit He was strengthened and made strong, and, finally, raised up from the dead. The Spirit of God, I say, led Christ to the place of His battle, where He endured the combat for the whole forty days and nights. As Luke saith, "He was tempted," but in the end most vehemently, after His continual fasting, and that He began to be hungry. Upon this forty days and this fasting of Christ do our Papists found and build their Lent; for, say they, all the actions of Christ are our instructions; what He did we ought to follow. But He fasted forty days, therefore we ought to do the like. I answer, that if we ought to follow all Christ's actions, then ought we neither to eat nor drink for the space of forty days, for so fasted Christ; we ought to go upon the waters with our feet; to cast out devils by our word; to heal and cure all sorts of maladies; to call again the dead to life; for so did Christ. This I write only that men may see the vanity of those who, boasting themselves of wisdom, have become fools. Did Christ fast those forty days to teach us superstitious fasting? Can the Papists assure me, or any other man, which were the forty days that Christ fasted? plain it is he fasted the forty days and nights that immediately followed His baptism, but which they were, or in what month was the day of His baptism, Scripture does not express; and altho the day were exprest, am I or any Christian bound to counterfeit Christ's actions as the ape counterfeits the act or work of man? He Himself requires no such obedience of His true followers, but saith to the apostles, "Go and preach the gospel to all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; commanding them to observe and keep all that I have commanded you." Here Christ Jesus requires the observance of His precepts and commandments, not of His actions, except in so far as He had also commanded them; and so must the apostle be understood when he saith, "Be followers of Christ, for Christ hath suffered for us, that we should follow His footsteps," which can not be understood of every action of Christ, either in the mystery of our redemption, or in His actions and marvelous works, but only of those which He hath commanded us to observe. But where the Papists are so diligent in establishing their dreams and fantasies, they lose the profit that here is to be gathered; that is, why Christ fasted those forty days; which were a doctrine more necessary for Christians than to corrupt the simple hearts with superstition, as tho the wisdom of God, Christ Jesus, had taught us no other mystery by His fasting than the abstinence from flesh, or once on the day to eat flesh, for the space of forty days. God hath taken a just vengeance upon the pride of such men, while He thus confounds the wisdom of those that do most glory in wisdom, and strikes with blindness such as will be guides and lanterns to the feet of others, and yet refuse themselves to hear or follow the light of God's word. From such deliver thy poor flock, O Lord! The uses of Christ's fasting these forty days I find chiefly to be two: The first, to witness to the world the dignity and excellence of His vocation, which Christ, after His baptism, was to take upon Him openly; the other, to declare that he entered into battle willingly for our cause, and does, as it were, provoke his adversary to assault Him: altho Christ Jesus, in the eternal counsel of His Father, was appointed to be the Prince of Peace, the angel (that is, the messenger) of His testament, and He alone that could fight our battles for us, yet He did not enter in execution of it, in the sight of men, till He was commended to mankind by the voice of His heavenly Father; and as He was placed and anointed by the Holy Ghost by a visible sign given to the eyes of men. After which time He was led to the desert, and fasted, as before is said; and this He did to teach us with what fear, carefulness, and reverence the messengers of the Word ought to enter on their vocation, which is not only most excellent (for who is worthy to be God's ambassador?) but also subject to most extreme troubles and dangers. For he that is appointed pastor, watchman, or preacher, if he feed not with his whole power, if he warn and admonish not when he sees the snare come, and if, in doctrine, he divide not the Word righteously, the blood and souls of those that perish for lack of food, admonition, and doctrine shall be required of his hand. But to our purpose; that Christ exceeded not the space of forty days in His fasting, He did it to the imitation of Moses and Elias; of whom, the one before the receiving of the law, and the other before the communication and reasoning which he had with God in Mount Horeb, in which He was commanded to anoint Hazael king over Syria, and Jehu king over Israel, and Elisha to be prophet, fasted the same number of days. The events that ensued and followed this supernatural fasting of these two servants of God, Moses and Elias, impaired and diminished the tyranny of the kingdom of Satan. For by the law came the knowledge of sin, the damnation of such impieties, specially of idolatry, and such as the devil had invented; and, finally, by the law came such a revelation of God's will that no man could justly afterward excuse his sin by ignorance, by which the devil before had blinded many. So that the law, altho it might not renew and purge the heart, for that the Spirit of Christ Jesus worketh by faith only, yet it was a bridle that did hinder and stay the rage of external wickedness in many, and was a schoolmaster that led unto Christ. For when man can find no power in himself to do that which is commanded, and perfectly understands, and when he believes that the curse of God is pronounced against those that abide not in everything that is commanded in God's law to do them--the man, I say, that understands and knows his own corrupt nature and God's severe judgment, most gladly will receive the free redemption offered by Christ Jesus, which is the only victory that overthrows Satan and his power. And so by the giving of the law God greatly weakened, impaired, and made frail the tyranny and kingdom of the devil. In the days of Elias, the devil had so prevailed that kings and rulers made open war against God, killing His prophets, destroying His ordinances, and building up idolatry, which did so prevail that the prophet complained that of all the true fearers and worshipers of God he was left alone, and wicked Jezebel sought His life also. After this, his fasting and complaint, he was sent by God to anoint the persons aforenamed, who took such vengeance upon the wicked and obstinate idolaters that he who escaped the sword of Hazael fell into the hands of Jehu, and those whom Jehu left escaped not God's vengeance under Elisha. The remembrance of this was fearful to Satan, for, at the coming of Christ Jesus, impiety was in the highest degree among those that pretended most knowledge of God's will; and Satan was at such rest in his kingdom that the priests, scribes and Pharisees had taken away the key of knowledge; that is, they had so obscured and darkened God's Holy Scriptures, by false glosses and vain traditions, that neither would they themselves enter into the kingdom of God, nor suffer and permit others to enter; but with violence restrained, and with tyranny struck back from the right way, that is, from Christ Jesus Himself, such as would have entered into the possession of life everlasting by Him. Satan, I say, having such dominion over the chief rulers of the visible Church, and espying in Christ, such graces as before he had not seen in man, and considering Him to follow in fasting the footsteps of Moses and Elias, no doubt greatly feared that the quietness and rest of his most obedient servants, the priests, and their adherents, would be troubled by Christ. And, therefore, by all engines and craft, he assaults Him to see what advantage he could have of Him. And Christ did not repel him, as by the power of His Godhead He might have done, that he should not tempt Him, but permitted him to spend all his artillery, and received the strokes and assaults of Satan's temptations in His own body, to the end He might weaken and enfeeble the strength and tyrannous power of our adversary by His long suffering. For thus, methinks, our Master and Champion, Jesus Christ, provoked our enemy to battle: "Satan, thou gloriest of thy power and victories over mankind, that there is none able to withstand thy assaults, nor escape thy darts, but at one time or other thou givest him a wound: lo! I am a man like to my brethren, having flesh and blood, and all properties of man's nature (sin, which is thy venom, excepted); tempt, try, and assault me; I offer you here a place most convenient--the wilderness. There shall be no mortal to comfort me against thy assaults; thou shalt have time sufficient; do what thou canst, I shall not fly the place of battle. If thou become victor, thou shalt still continue in possession of thy kingdom in this wretched world; but if thou canst not prevail against me, then must thy prey and unjust spoil be taken from thee; thou must grant thyself vanquished and confounded, and must be compelled to leave off from all accusation of the members of my body; for to them appertains the fruit of my battle, my victory is theirs, as I am appointed to take the punishment of their sins in my body." What comfort ought the remembrance of these signs to be to our hearts! Christ Jesus hath fought our battle; He Himself hath taken us into His care and protection; however the devil may rage by temptations, be they spiritual or corporeal, he is not able to bereave us out of the hand of the almighty Son of God. To Him be all glory for His mercies most abundantly poured upon us! There remains yet to be spoken of the time when our Lord was tempted, which began immediately after His baptism. Whereupon we have to note the mark, that altho the malice of Satan never ceases, but always seeks for means to trouble the godly, yet sometimes he rages more fiercely than others, and that is commonly when God begins to manifest His love and favor to any of His children, and at the end of their battle, when they are nearest to obtain final victory. The devil, no doubt, did at all times envy the humble spirit that was in Abel, but he did not stir up the cruel heart of Cain against him till God declared His favor toward him by accepting his sacrifice. The same we find in Jacob, Joseph, David, and most evidently in Christ Jesus. How Satan raged at the tidings of Christ's nativity! what blood he caused to be shed on purpose to have murdered Christ in His infancy! The evangelist St. Matthew witnesses that in all the coasts and borders of Bethlehem the children of two years old and less age were murdered without mercy. A fearful spectacle and horrid example of insolent and unaccustomed tyranny! And what is the cause moving Satan thus to rage against innocents, considering that by reason of their imperfections they could not hurt his kingdom at that instant? Oh, the crafty eye of Satan looked farther than to the present time; he heard reports by the three wise men, that they had learned by the appearance of a star that the King of the Jews was born; and he was not ignorant that the time prophesied of Christ's coming was then instant; for a stranger was clad with the crown and scepter of Judah. The angel had declared the glad tidings to the shepherds, that a Savior, which was Christ the Lord, was born in the city of David. All these tidings inflamed the wrath and malice of Satan, for he perfectly understood that the coming of the promised Seed was appointed to his confusion, and to the breaking down of his head and tyranny; and therefore he raged most cruelly, even at the first hearing of Christ's birth, thinking that altho he could not hinder nor withstand His coming, yet he could shorten his days upon earth, lest by long life and peaceable quietness in it, the number of good men, by Christ's doctrine and virtuous life, should be multiplied; and so he strove to cut Him away among the other children before He could open His mouth on His Father's message. Oh, cruel serpent! in vain dost thou spend thy venom, for the days of God's elect thou canst not shorten! And when the wheat is fallen on the ground, then doth it most multiply. But from these things mark, what hath been the practise of the devil from the beginning--most cruelly to rage against God's children when God begins to show them His mercy. And, therefore, marvel not, dearly beloved, altho the like come unto you. If Satan fume or roar against you, whether it be against your bodies by persecution, or inwardly in your conscience by a spiritual battle, be not discouraged, as tho you were less acceptable in God's presence, or as if Satan might at any time prevail against you. No; your temptations and storms, that arise so suddenly, argue and witness that the seed which is sown is fallen on good ground, begins to take root and shall, by God's grace, bring forth fruit abundantly in due season and convenient time. That is it which Satan fears, and therefore thus he rages, and shall rage against you, thinking that if he can repulse you now suddenly in the beginning, that then you shall be at all times an easy prey, never able to resist his assaults. But as my hope is good, so shall my prayer be, that so you may be strengthened, that the world and Satan himself may perceive or understand that God fights your battle. For you remember that being present with you and treating of the same place, I admonished you that Satan could not long sleep when his kingdom was threatened. And therefore I willed you, if you were in mind to continue with Christ, to prepare yourselves for the day of temptation. The person of the speaker is wretched, miserable, and nothing to be regarded, but the things that were spoken are the infallible and eternal truth of God; without observation of which, life neither can or shall come to mankind. God grant you continuance to the end. This much have I briefly spoken of the temptation of Christ Jesus, who was tempted; and of the time and place of His temptation. Now remains to be spoken how He was tempted, and by what means. The most part of expositors think that all this temptation was in spirit and in imagination only, the corporeal senses being nothing moved. I will contend with no man in such cases, but patiently will I suffer every man to abound in his own knowledge; and without prejudice of any man's estimation, I offer my judgment to be weighed and considered by Christian charity. It appears to me by the plain text that Christ suffered this temptation in body and spirit. Likewise, as the hunger which Christ suffered, and the desert in which He remained, were not things offered to the imagination, but that the body did verily remain in the wilderness among beasts, and after forty days did hunger and faint for lack of food; so the external ear did hear the tempting words of Satan, which entered into the knowledge of the soul, and which, repelling the venom of such temptations, caused the tongue to speak and confute Satan, to our unspeakable comfort and consolation. It appears also that the body of Christ Jesus was carried by Satan from the wilderness unto the temple of Jerusalem, and that it was placed upon the pinnacle of the same temple, from whence it was carried to a high mountain and there tempted. If any man can show to the contrary hereof by the plain Scriptures of God, with all submission and thanksgiving I will prefer his judgment to my own; but if the matter stand only in probability and opinion of men, then it is lawful for me to believe as the Scripture here speaks; that is, that Satan spake and Christ answered, and Satan took Him and carried Him from one place to another. Besides the evidence of the text affirming that Satan was permitted to carry the body of Christ from place to place, and yet was not permitted to execute any further tyranny against it, is most singular comfort to such as are afflicted or troubled in body or spirit. The weak and feeble conscience of man under such temptations, commonly gathers and collects a false consequence. For man reasons thus: The body or the spirit is vexed by assaults and temptations of Satan, and he troubles or molests it, therefore God is angry with it, and takes no care of it. I answer, tribulations or grievous vexations of body or of mind are never signs of God's displeasure against the sufferer, neither yet does it follow that God has cast away the care of His creatures because He permits them to be molested and vexed for a time. For if any sort of tribulation were the infallible sign of God's displeasure, then should we condemn the best beloved children of God. But of this we may speak hereafter. Now to the temptation. Verse 2. "And when he fasteth forty days and forty nights, He was afterwards an hungered." Verse 3. 'Then came to Him the tempter,' and said, 'If you be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread,' etc. Why Christ fasted forty days and would not exceed the same, without sense and feeling of hunger, is before touched upon, that is, He would provoke the devil to battle by the wilderness and long abstinence, but He would not usurp or arrogate any more to Himself in that case than God had wrought with others, His servants and messengers before. But Christ Jesus (as St. Augustine more amply declares), without feeling of hunger, might have endured the whole year, or to time without end, as well as He did endure the space of forty days. For the nature of mankind was sustained those forty days by the invisible power of God, which is at all times of equal power. But Christ, willing to offer further occasion to Satan to proceed in tempting of Him, permitted the human nature to crave earnestly that which it lacked, that is to say, refreshing of meat; which Satan perceiving took occasion, as before, to tempt and assault. Some judge that Satan tempted Christ to gluttony, but this appears little to agree with the purpose of the Holy Ghost; who shows us this history to let us understand that Satan never ceases to oppugn the children of God, but continually, by one mean or other, drives or provokes them to some wicked opinions of their God; and to have them desire stones to be converted into bread, or to desire hunger to be satisfied, has never been sin, nor yet a wicked opinion of God. And therefore I doubt not but the temptation was more spiritual, more subtle, and more dangerous. Satan had respect to the voice of God, which had pronounced Christ to be His well-beloved Son, etc. Against this voice he fights, as his nature is ever to do against the assured and immutable Word of God; for such is his malice against God, and against His chosen children, that where and to whom God pronounces love and mercy, to these he threatens displeasures and damnation; and where God threatens death, there is he bold to pronounce life; and for this course is Satan called a liar from the beginning. And so the purpose of Satan was to drive Christ into desperation, that he should not believe the former voice of God His Father; which appears to be the meaning of this temptation: "Thou hast heard," would Satan say, "a voice proclaimed in the air, that Thou wast the beloved Son of God, in whom His soul was pleased; but mayst Thou not be judged more than mad, and weaker than the brainless fool if Thou believest any such promise? Where are the signs of His love? Art Thou not cast out from comfort of all creatures? Thou art in worse case than the brute beasts, for every day they hunt for their prey, and the earth produces grass and herbs for their sustenance, so that none of them are pined and consumed away by hunger; but Thou hast fasted forty days and nights, ever waiting for some relief and comfort from above, but Thy best provision is hard stones! If Thou dost glory in thy God, and dost verily believe the promise that is made, command that these stones be bread. But evident it is that so Thou canst not do; for if Thou couldst, or if Thy God would have showed Thee any such pleasure, Thou mightest long ago have removed Thy hunger, and needest not have endured this languishing for lack of food. But seeing Thou hast long continued thus, and no provision is made for Thee, it is vanity longer to believe any such promise, and therefore despair of any help from God's hand, and provide for Thyself by some other means!" Many words have I used here, dearly beloved, but I can not express the thousandth part of the malicious despite which lurked in this one temptation of Satan. It was a mocking of Christ and of His obedience. It was a plain denial of God's promise. It was the triumphing voice of him that appeared to have gotten victory. Oh, how bitter this temptation was no creature can understand but such as feel the grief of such darts as Satan casts at the tender conscience of those that gladly would rest and repose in God, and in the promises of His mercy. But here is to be noted the ground and foundation. The conclusion of Satan is this: Thou art none of God's elect, much less His well-beloved Son. His reason is this: Thou art in trouble and findest no relief. There the foundation of the temptation was Christ's poverty, and the lack of food without hope of remedy to be sent from God. And it is the same temptation which the devil objected to Him by the princes of the priests in His grievous torments upon the cross; for thus they cried, "If he be the Son of God, let him come down from the cross and we will believe in him; he trusted in God, let him deliver him, if he have the pleasure in him." As tho they would say, God is the deliverer of His servants from troubles; God never permits those that fear Him to come to confusion; this man we see in extreme trouble; if He be the Son of God, or even a true worshiper of His name, He will deliver Him from this calamity. If He deliver Him not, but suffer Him to perish in these anguishes, then it is an assured sign that God has rejected Him as a hypocrite, that shall have no portion of His glory. Thus, I say, Satan takes occasion to tempt, and moves also others to judge and condemn God's elect and chosen children, by reason that troubles are multiplied upon them. But with what weapons we ought to fight against such enemies and assaults we shall learn in the answer of Christ Jesus, which follows: But He, answering, said "It is written, man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word which proceedeth out of the mouth of God." This answer of Christ proves the sentence which we have brought of the aforesaid temptation to be the very meaning of the Holy Ghost; for unless the purpose of Satan has been to have removed Christ from all hope of God's merciful providence toward Him in that His necessity, Christ had not answered directly to his words, saying, "Command that these stones be made bread." But Christ Jesus, perceiving his art and malicious subtility, answered directly to his meaning, His words nothing regarded; by which Satan was so confounded that he was ashamed to reply any further. But that you may the better understand the meaning of Christ's answer, we will express and repeat it over in more words. "Thou laborest, Satan," would Christ say, "to bring into my heart a doubt and suspicion of My Father's promise, which was openly proclaimed in My baptism, by reason of My hunger, and that I lack all carnal provision. Thou art bold to affirm that God takes no care for Me, but thou art a deceitful and false corrupt sophister, and thy argument, too, is vain, and full of blasphemies; for thou bindest God's love, mercy, and providence to the having or wanting of bodily provision, which no part of God's Scriptures teach us, but rather the express contrary. As it is written, 'Man doth not live by bread alone, but by every word that proeeedeth out of the mouth of God,' that is, the very life and felicity of man consists not in the abundance of bodily things, or the possession and having of them makes no man blest or happy; neither shall the lack of them be the cause of his final misery; but the very life of man consists in God, and in His promises pronounced by His own mouth, unto which whoso cleaves unfeignedly shall live the life everlasting. And altho all creatures in earth forsake him, yet shall not his bodily life perish till the time appointed by God approach. For God has means to feed, preserve, and maintain, unknown to man's reason, and contrary to the common course of nature. He fed His people Israel in the desert forty years without the provision of man. He preserved Jonah in the whale's belly; and maintained and kept the bodies of the three children in the furnace of fire. Reason and the natural man could have seen nothing in these cases but destruction and death, and could have judged nothing but that God had cast away the care of these, His creatures, and yet His providence was most vigilant toward them in the extremity of their dangers, from which He did so deliver them, and in the midst of them did so assist them, that His glory, which is His mercy and goodness, did more appear and shine after their troubles than it could have done if they had fallen in them. And therefore I measure not the truth and favor of God by having or by lacking of bodily necessities, but by the promise which He has made to me. As He Himself is immutable, so is His word and promise constant, which I believe, and to which I will adhere, and so cleave, whatever can come to the body outwardly." In this answer of Christ we may perceive what weapons are to be used against our adversary the devil, and how we may confute his arguments, which craftily, and of malice, he makes against God's elect. Christ might have repulsed Satan with a word, or by commanding him to silence, as He to whom all power was given in heaven and earth; but it pleased His mercy to teach us how to use the sword of the Holy Ghost, which is the word of God, in battle against our spiritual enemy. The Scripture which Christ brings is written in the eighth chapter of Deuteronomy. It was spoken by Moses a little before His death, to establish the people in God's merciful providence. For in the same chapter, and in certain others that go before, He reckons the great travail and divers dangers with the extreme necessities that they had sustained in the desert the space of forty years, and yet, notwithstanding how constant God had been in keeping and performing His promise, for throughout all perils He had conducted them to the sight and borders of the promised land. And so this Scripture more directly answers to the temptation of Satan; for thus does Satan reason, as before is said, "Thou art in poverty and hast no provision to sustain thy life. Therefore God takes no regard nor care of Thee, as He doth over His chosen children." Christ Jesus answered: "Thy argument is false and vain; for poverty or necessity precludes not the providence or care of God; which is easy to be proved by the people of God, Israel, who, in the desert, oftentimes lacked things necessary to the sustenance of life, and for lack of the same they grudged and murmured; yet the Lord never cast away the providence and care of them, but according to the word that He had once pronounced, to wit, that they were His peculiar people; and according to the promise made to Abraham, and to them before their departure from Egypt, He still remained their conductor and guide, till He placed them in peaceable possession of the land of Canaan, their great infirmities and manifold transgressions notwithstanding." Thus are we taught, I say, by Christ Jesus, to repulse Satan and his assaults by the Word of God, and to apply the examples of His mercies, which He has shown to others before us, to our own souls in the hour of temptation, and in the time of our trouble. For what God doth to one at any time, the same appertains to all that depend upon God and His promises. And, therefore, however we are assaulted by Satan, our adversary, within the Word of God is armor and weapons sufficient. The chief craft of Satan is to trouble those that begin to decline from his obedience, and to declare themselves enemies to iniquity, with divers assaults, the design whereof is always the same; that is, to put variance betwixt them and God into their conscience, that they should not repose and rest themselves in His assured promises. And to persuade this, he uses and invents divers arguments. Sometimes he calls the sins of their youth, and which they have committed in the time of blindness, to their remembrance; very often he objects their unthankfulness toward God and present imperfections. By sickness, poverty, tribulations in their household, or by persecution, he can allege that God is angry, and regard them not. Or by the spiritual cross which few feel and fewer understand the utility and profit of, he would drive God's children to desperation, and by infinite means more, he goeth about seeking, like a roaring lion, to undermine and destroy our faith. But it is impossible for him to prevail against us unless we obstinately refuse to use the defense and weapons that God has offered. Yea, I say, that God's elect can not refuse it, but seek for their Defender when the battle is most strong; for the sobs, groans, and lamentations of such as fight, yea, the fear they have lest they be vanquished, the calling and prayer for continuance, are the undoubted and right seeking of Christ our champion. We refuse not the weapon, altho sometimes, by infirmity, we can not use it as we would. It suffices that your hearts unfeignedly sob for greater strength, for continuance, and for final deliverance by Christ Jesus; that which is wanting in us, His sufficiency doth supply; for it is He that fighteth and overcometh for us. But for bringing of the examples of the Scriptures, if God permit, in the end we shall speak more largely when it shall be treated why Christ permitted Himself thus to be tempted. Sundry impediments now call me from writing in this matter, but, by God's grace, at convenient leisure I purpose to finish, and to send it to you. I grant the matter that proceeds from me is not worthy of your pain and labor to read it; yet, seeing it is a testimony of my good mind toward you, I doubt not but you will accept it in good part. God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, grant unto you to find favor and mercy of the Judge, whose eyes and knowledge pierce through the secret cogitations of the heart, in the day of temptation, which shall come upon all flesh, according to that mercy which you (illuminated and directed by His Holy Spirit) have showed to the afflicted. Now the God of all comfort and consolation confirm and strengthen you in His power unto the end. Amen. CALVIN ENDURING PERSECUTION FOR CHRIST BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Calvin was born in 1509, at Noyon, France. He has been called the greatest of Protestant commentators and theologians, and the inspirer of the Puritan exodus. He often preached every day for weeks in succession. He possest two of the greatest elements in successful pulpit oratory, self-reliance and authority. It was said of him, as it was afterward said of Webster, that "every word weighed a pound." His style was simple, direct, and convincing. He made men think. His splendid contributions to religious thought, and his influence upon individual liberty, give him a distinguished place among great reformers and preachers. His idea of preaching is thus exprest in his own words: "True preaching must not be dead, but living and effective. No parade of rhetoric, but the Spirit of God must resound in the voice in order to operate with power." He died at Geneva in 1564. CALVIN 1509--1564 ENDURING PERSECUTION FOR CHRIST _Let us go forth therefore unto him without the camp bearing his reproach_.--Hebrews xiii., 13. All the exhortations which can be given us to suffer patiently for the name of Jesus Christ, and in defense of the gospel, will have no effect if we do not feel assured of the cause for which we fight. For when we are called to part with life, it is absolutely necessary to know on what grounds. The firmness necessary we can not possess, unless it be founded on certainty of faith. It is true that persons may be found who will foolishly expose themselves to death in maintaining some absurd opinions and dreams conceived by their own brain, but such impetuosity is more to be regarded as frenzy than as Christian zeal; and, in fact, there is neither firmness nor sound sense in those who thus, at a kind of haphazard, cast themselves away. But, however this may be, it is in a good cause only that God can acknowledge us as His martyrs. Death is common to all, and the children of God are condemned to ignominy and tortures as criminals are; but God makes the distinction between them, inasmuch as He can not deny His truth. On our part, then, it is requisite that we have sure and infallible evidence of the doctrine which we maintain; and hence, as I have said, we can not be rationally imprest by any exhortations which we receive to suffer persecution for the gospel, if no true certainty of faith has been imprinted in our hearts. For to hazard our life upon a peradventure is not natural, and tho we were to do it, it would only be rashness, not Christian courage. In a word, nothing that we do will be approved of God if we are not thoroughly persuaded that it is for Him and His cause we suffer persecution, and the world is our enemy. Now, when I speak of such persuasion, I mean not merely that we must know how to distinguish between true religion and the abuses or follies of men, but also that we must be thoroughly persuaded of the heavenly life, and the crown which is promised us above, after we shall have fought here below. Let us understand, then, that both of these requisites are necessary, and can not be separated from each other. The points, accordingly, with which we must commence are these: We must know well what our Christianity is, what the faith which we have to hold and follow, what the rule which God has given us; and we must be so well furnished with such instructions as to be able boldly to condemn all the falsehoods, errors, and superstitions which Satan has introduced to corrupt the pure simplicity of the doctrine of God. Hence, we ought not to be surprized that, in the present day, we see so few persons disposed to suffer for the gospel, and that the greater part of those who call themselves Christians know not what it is. For all are, as it were, lukewarm; and instead of making it their business to hear or read, count it enough to have had some slight taste of Christian faith. This is the reason why there is so little decision, and why those who are assailed immediately fall away. This fact should stimulate us to inquire more diligently into divine truth, in order to be well assured with, regard to it. Still, however, to be well informed and grounded is not the whole that is necessary. For we see some who seem to be thoroughly imbued with sound doctrine, and who, notwithstanding, have no more zeal or affection than if they had never known any more of God than some fleeting fancy. Why is this? Just because they have never comprehended the majesty of the Holy Scriptures. And, in fact, did we, such as we are, consider well that it is God who speaks to us, it is certain that we would listen more attentively, and with greater reverence. If we would think that in reading Scripture we are in the school of angels, we would be far more careful and desirous to profit by the doctrine which is propounded to us. We now see the true method of preparing to suffer for the gospel. First, We must have profited so far in the school of God as to be decided in regard to true religion and the doctrine which we are to hold; and we must despise all the wiles and impostures of Satan, and, all human inventions, as things not only frivolous but also carnal, inasmuch as they corrupt Christian purity; therein differing, like true martyrs of Christ, from the fantastic persons who suffer for mere absurdities. Second, Feeling assured of the good cause, we must be inflamed, accordingly, to follow God whithersoever He may call us: His Word must have such authority with us as it deserves, and having withdrawn from this world, we must feel as it were enraptured in seeking the heavenly life. But it is more than strange that, tho the light of God is shining more brightly than it ever did before, there is a lamentable want of zeal! If the thought does not fill us with shame, so much the worse. For we must shortly come before the great Judge, where the iniquity which we endeavor to hide will be brought forward with such upbraidings that we shall be utterly confounded. For, if we are obliged to bear testimony to God, according to the measure of the knowledge which He has given us, to what is it owing, I would ask, that we are so cold and timorous in entering into battle, seeing that God has so fully manifested Himself at this time that He may be said to have opened to us and displayed before us the great treasures of His secrets? May it not be said that we do not think we have to do with God? For had we any regard to His Majesty we would not dare to turn the doctrine which proceeds from Him into some kind of philosophic speculation. In short, it is impossible to deny that it is our great shame, not to say fearful condemnation, that we have so well known the truth of God, and have so little courage to maintain it! Above all, when we look to the martyrs of past times, well may we detest our own cowardice! The greater part of those were not persons much versed in Holy Scripture, so as to be able to dispute on all subjects. They knew that there was one God, whom they behooved to worship and serve--that they had been redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ, in order that they might place their confidence of salvation in Him and in His grace--and that, all the inventions of men being mere dross and rubbish, they ought to condemn all idolatries and superstitions. In one word, their theology was in substance this--There is one God who created all the world, and declared His will to us by Moses and the prophets, and finally by Jesus Christ and His apostles; and we have one sole Redeemer, who purchased us by His blood, and by whose grace we hope to be saved: All the idols of the world are curst, and deserve execration. With a system embracing no other points than these, they went boldly to the flames, or to any other kind of death. They did not go in twos or threes, but in such bands that the number of those who fell by the hands of tyrants is almost infinite! We, on our part, are such learned clerks that none can be more so (so at least we think), and, in fact, so far as regards the knowledge of Scripture, God has so spread it out before us that no former age was ever so highly favored. Still, after all, there is scarcely a particle of zeal. When men manifest such indifference, it looks as if they were bent on provoking the vengeance of God. What then should be done in order to inspire our breasts with true courage? We have, in the first place, to consider how precious the confession of our faith is in the sight of God. We little know how much God prizes it, if our life, which is nothing, is valued by us more highly. When it is so, we manifest a marvelous degree of stupidity. We can not save our life at the expense of our confession with out acknowledging that we hold it in higher estimation than the honor of God and the salvation of our souls. A heathen could say that "It was a miserable thing to save life by giving up the only things which made life desirable!" And yet he and others like him never knew for what end men are placed in the world, and why they live in it. It is true they knew enough to say that men ought to follow virtue, to conduct themselves honestly and without reproach; but all their virtues were mere paint and smoke. We know far better what the chief aim of life should be, namely, to glorify God, in order that He may be our glory. When this is not done, wo to us! And we can not continue to live for a single moment upon the earth without heaping additional curses on our heads. Still we are not ashamed to purchase some few days to languish here below, renouncing eternal kingdom by separating ourselves from Him by whose energy we are sustained in life. Were we to ask the most ignorant, not to say the most brutish, persons in the world why they live, they would not venture to answer simply that it is to eat, and drink, and sleep; for all know that they have been created for a higher and holier end. And what end can we find if it be not to honor God, and allow ourselves to be governed by Him, like children by good parents; so that after we have finished the journey of this corruptible life, we may be received into His eternal inheritance? Such is the principal, indeed the sole end. When we do not take it into account, and are intent on a brutish life, which is worse than a thousand deaths, what can we allege for our excuse? To live and not know why is unnatural. To reject the causes for which we live, under the influence of a foolish longing for a respite of some few days, during which we are to live in the world, while separated from God--I know not how to name such infatuation and madness! But as persecution is always harsh and bitter, let us consider how and by what means Christians may be able to fortify themselves with patience, so as unflinchingly to expose their life for the truth of God. The text which we have read out, when it is properly understood, is sufficient to induce us to do so. The apostle says, Let us go forth from the city after the Lord Jesus, bearing His reproach. In the first place, he reminds us, altho the swords should not be drawn against us nor the fires kindled to burn us, that we can not be truly united to the Son of God while we are rooted in this world. Wherefore a Christian, even in repose, must always have one foot lifted to march to battle, and not only so, but he must have his affections withdrawn from the world, altho his body is dwelling in it. Grant that this at first sight seems to us hard, still we must be satisfied with the words of St. Paul (I Thess. iii.), that we are called and appointed to suffer. As if He had said, Such is our condition as Christians; this is the road by which we must go if we would follow Christ. Meanwhile, to solace our infirmity and mitigate the vexation and sorrow which persecution might cause us, a good reward is held forth: In suffering for the cause of God, we are walking step by step after the Son of God, and have Him for our guide. Were it simply said that to be Christians we must pass through all the insults of the world boldly, to meet death at all times and in whatever way God may be pleased to appoint, we might apparently have some pretext for replying that it is a strange road to go at peradventure. But when we are commanded to follow the Lord Jesus, His guidance is too good and honorable to be refused. Now, in order that we may be more deeply moved, not only is it said that Jesus Christ walks before us as our Captain, but that we are made conformable to His image; so St. Paul says in the eighth chapter to the Romans that God hath ordained all those whom He hath adopted for His children, to be made conformable to Him who is the pattern and head of all. Are we so delicate as to be unwilling to endure anything? Then we must renounce the grace of God by which He has called us to the hope of salvation. For there are two things which can not be separated--to be members of Christ, and to be tried by many afflictions. We certainly ought to prize such a conformity to the Son of God much more than we do. It is true, that in the world's judgment there is disgrace in suffering for the gospel. But since we know that believers are blind, ought we not to have better eyes than they? It is ignominy to suffer from those who occupy the seat of justice, but St. Paul shows us by his example that we have to glory in scourings for Jesus Christ, as marks by which God recognizes us and avows us for His own. And we know what St. Luke narrates of Peter and John (Acts v., 41); namely, that they rejoiced to have been counted worthy to suffer infamy and reproach for the name of the Lord Jesus. Ignominy and dignity are two opposites: so says the world, which, being infatuated, judges against all reason, and in this way converts the glory of God into dishonor. But, on our part, let us not refuse to be vilified as concerns the world, in order to be honored before God and His angels. We see what pains the ambitious take to receive the commands of a king, and what a boast they make of it. The Son of God presents His commands to us, and every one stands back. Tell me, pray, whether in so doing are we worthy of having anything in common with Him? there is nothing here to attract our sensual nature, but such notwithstanding are the true escutcheons of nobility in the heavens. Imprisonment, exile, evil report, imply in men's imagination whatever is to be vituperated; but what hinders us from viewing things as God judges and declares them, save our unbelief? Wherefore, let the name of the Son of God have all the weight with us which it deserves, that we may learn to count it honor when He stamps His marks upon us. If we act otherwise our ingratitude is insupportable. Were God to deal with us according to our desserts, would He not have just cause to chastise us daily in a thousand ways? Nay more, a hundred thousand deaths would not suffice for a small portion of our misdeeds! Now, if in His infinite goodness He puts all our faults under His foot and abolishes them, and instead of punishing us according to our demerit, devises an admirable means to convert our afflictions into honor and a special privilege, inasmuch as through them we are taken into partnership with His Son, must it not be said, when we disdain such a happy state, that we have indeed made little progress in Christian doctrine? Accordingly, St. Peter, after exhorting us (I Peter iv., 15) to walk so purely in the fear of God, as not to suffer as thieves, adulterers, and murderers, immediately adds, that if we must suffer as Christians, let us glorify God for the blessing which He thus bestows upon us. It is not without cause he speaks thus. For who are we, I pray, to be witnesses of the truth of God, and advocates to maintain His cause? Here we are poor worms of the earth, creatures full of vanity, full of lies, and yet God employs us to defend His truth--an honor which pertains not even to the angels of heaven! May not this consideration alone well inflame us to offer ourselves to God to be employed in any way in such honorable service? Many persons, however, can not refrain from pleading against God, or, at least, from complaining against Him for not better supporting their weakness. It is marvelously strange, they say, how God, after having chosen us for His children, allows us to be trampled upon and tormented by the ungodly. I answer: Even were it not apparent why He does so, He might well exercise His authority over us, and fix our lot at His pleasure. But when we see that Jesus Christ is our pattern, ought we not, without inquiring further, to esteem it great happiness that we are made like Him? God, however, makes it very apparent what the reasons are for which He is pleased that we should be persecuted. Had we nothing more than the consideration suggested by St. Peter (I Peter i., 7), we were disdainful indeed not to acquiesce in it. He says that since gold and silver, which are only corruptible metals, are purified and tested by fire, it is but reasonable that our faith, which surpasses all the riches of the world, should be so tried. It were easy indeed for God to crown us at once without requiring us to sustain any combats; but as it is His pleasure that until the end of the world Christ shall reign in the midst of His enemies, so it is also His pleasure that we, being placed in the midst of them, shall suffer their oppression and violence till He deliver us. I know, indeed, that the flesh rebels when it is to be brought to this point, but still the will of God must have the mastery. If we feel some repugnance in ourselves, it need not surprize us; for it is only too natural for us to shun the cross. Still let us not fail to surmount it, knowing that God accepts our obedience, provided we bring all our feelings and wishes into captivity, and make them subject to Him. When prophets and apostles went to death, it was not without feeling some inclination to recoil. "They shall carry thee whither thou wouldst not," said our Lord Jesus Christ to Peter. (John xxi., 18.) When such fears of death arise within us, let us gain the mastery over them, or rather let God gain it; and meanwhile, let us feel assured that we offer Him a pleasing sacrifice when we resist and do violence to our inclinations for the purpose of placing ourselves entirely under His command: This is the principle war in which God would have His people to be engaged. He would have them strive to suppress every rebellious thought and feeling which would turn them aside from the path to which He points. And the consolations are so ample that it may well be said, we are more than cowards if we give away! In ancient times vast numbers of people, to obtain a simple crown of leaves, refused no toil, no pain, no trouble; nay, it even cost them nothing to die, and yet every one of them fought for a peradventure, not knowing whether he was to gain or to lose the prize. God holds forth to us the immortal crown by which we may become partakers of His glory: He does not mean us to fight at haphazard, but all of us have a promise of the prize for which we strive. Have we any cause then to decline the struggle? Do we think it has been said in vain that if we die with Jesus Christ we shall also live with Him? Our triumph is prepared, and yet we do all we can to shun the combat. But it is said that all we teach on this subject is repugnant to human judgment. I confess it. And hence when our Savior declares, "Blest are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake" (Matt, v., 10), He gives utterance to a sentiment which is not easily received in the world. On the contrary, He wishes to account that as happiness which in the judgment of sense is misery. We seem to ourselves miserable when God leaves us to be trampled upon by the tyranny and cruelty of our enemies; but the error is that we look not to the promises of God, which assure us that all will turn to our good. We are cast down when we see the wicked stronger than we, and planting their foot on our throat; but such confusion should rather, as St. Paul says, cause us to lift up our heads. Seeing we are too much disposed to amuse ourselves with present objects, God in permitting the good to be maltreated, and the wicked to have sway, shows by evident tokens that a day is coming on which all that is now in confusion will be reduced to order. If the period seems distant, let us run to the remedy, and not flatter ourselves in our sin; for it is certain that we have no faith if we can not carry our views forward to the coming of Jesus Christ. To leave no means which may be fitted to stimulate us unemployed, God sets before us promises on the one hand and threatenings on the other. Do we feel that the promises have not sufficient influence, let us strengthen them by adding the threatenings. It is true we must be perverse in the extreme not to put more faith in the promises of God, when the Lord Jesus says that He will own us as His before His Father, provided we confess Him before men. (Matt x., 32; Luke xii., 8.) What should prevent us from making the confession which He requires? Let men do their utmost, they can not do worse than murder us! and will not the heavenly life compensate for this? I do not here collect all the passages in Scripture which bear on this subject: they are so often reiterated that we ought to be thoroughly satisfied with them. When the struggle comes, if three or four passages do not suffice, a hundred surely ought to make us proof against all contrary temptations. But if God can not will us to Himself by gentle means, must we not be mere blocks if His threatening also fail? Jesus Christ summons all those who from fear of temporal death shall have denied the truth, to appear at the bar of God his Father, and says, that then both body and soul will be consigned to perdition. (Matt. x., 28; Luke xii., 5.) And in another passage He says that He will disclaim all those who shall have denied Him before men. (Matt. x., 33; Luke xii., 10.) These words, if we are not altogether impervious to feeling, might well make our hair stand on end. Be this as it may, this much is certain; if these things do not move us as they ought, nothing remains for us but a fearful judgment. (Heb. x., 27.) All the words of Christ having proved unavailing, we stand convinced of gross infidelity. It is in vain for us to allege that pity should be shown us, inasmuch as our nature is so frail; for it is said, on the contrary, that Moses, having looked to God by faith, was fortified so as not to yield under any temptation. Wherefore, when we are thus soft and easy to bend, it is a manifest sign, I do not say that we have no zeal, no firmness, but that we know nothing either of God or His kingdom. When we are reminded that we ought to be united to our Head, it seems to us a fine pretext for exemption to say that we are men. But what were those who have trodden the path before us? Indeed, had we nothing more than pure doctrine, all the excuses we could make would be frivolous; but having so many examples which ought to supply us with the strongest proof, the more deserving are we of condemnation. There are two points to be considered. The first is, that the whole body of the Church in general has always been, and to the end will be, liable to be afflicted by the wicked, as is said in the Psalms (Psalms cxxix., 1), "From my youth up they have tormented me, and dragged the plow over me from one end to the other." The Holy Spirit there brings in the ancient Church, in order that we, after being much acquainted with her afflictions, may not regard it as either new or vexatious when the like is done to ourselves in the present day. St. Paul, also, in quoting from another Psalm (Rom. vii., 36; Psalm xliv., 22), a passage which says, "We have been led like sheep to the slaughter"; shows that that has not been for one age only, but is the ordinary condition of the Church, and shall be. Therefore, on seeing how the Church of God is trampled upon in the present day by proud worldlings, how one barks and another bites, how they torture, how they plot against her, how she is assailed incessantly by mad dogs and savage beasts, let it remind us that the same thing was done in all the olden time. It is true God sometimes gives her a truce and time of refreshment, and hence in the Psalm above quoted it is said, "He cutteth the cords of the wicked"; and in another passage (Psalm cxxv., 3), "He breaks their staff, lest the good should fall away, by being too hardly pressed." But still it has pleased Him that His Church should always have to battle so long as she is in this world, her repose being treasured up on high in the heavens. (Heb. iii., 9.) Meanwhile, the issue of her afflictions has always been fortunate. At all events, God has caused that tho she has been prest by many calamities, she has never been completely crusht; as it is said (Psalm vii., 15), "The wicked with all their efforts have not succeeded in that at which they aimed." St. Paul glories in the fact, and shows that this is the course which God in mercy always takes. He says (I Cor. iv., 12) that we endure tribulations, but we are not in agony; we are impoverished, but not left destitute; we are persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but we perish not; bearing everywhere in our body the mortification of the Lord Jesus, in order that His life may be manifested in our mortal bodies. Such being, as we see, the issue which God has at all times given to the persecutions of His Church, we ought to take courage, knowing that our forefathers, who were frail men like ourselves, always had the victory over their enemies by remaining firm in endurance. I only touch upon this article briefly to come to the second, which is more to our purpose, viz., that we ought to take advantage of the particular examples of the martyrs who have gone before us. These are not confined to two or three, but are, as the apostle says (Heb. xii., 1), "So great a cloud of witnesses." By this expression he intimates that the number is so great that it ought, as it were, completely to engross our sight. Not to be tedious, I will only mention the Jews, who were persecuted for the true religion, as well under the tyranny of King Antiochus as a little after his death. We can not allege that the number of sufferers was small, for it formed, as it were, a large army of martyrs. We can not say that it consisted of prophets whom God had set apart from common people, for women and young children formed part of the band. We can not say that they got off at a cheap rate, for they were tortured as cruelly as it was possible to be. Accordingly, we hear what the apostle says (Heb. xi., 35), that some were stretched out like drums, not caring to be delivered, that they might obtain a better resurrection; others were proved by mockery and blows, or bonds and prisons; others were stoned or sawn asunder; others traveled up and down, wandering among mountains and caves. Let us now compare their case with ours. If they so endured for the truth which was at that time so obscure, what ought we to do in the clear light which is now shining? God speaks to us with open mouth; the great gate of the kingdom of heaven has been opened, and Jesus Christ calls us to Himself, after having come down to us that we might have him, as it were, present to our eyes. What a reproach would it be to us to have less zeal in suffering for the gospel than those who had only hailed the promises afar off--who had only a little wicket opened whereby to come to the kingdom of God, and who had only some memorial and type of Jesus Christ? These things can not be exprest in a word, as they deserve, and therefore I leave each to ponder them for himself. The doctrine now laid down, as it is general, ought to be carried into practise by all Christians, each applying it to his own use according as may be necessary. This I say, in order that those who do not see themselves in apparent danger may not think it superfluous as regards them. They are not at this hour in the hands of tyrants, but how do they know what God means to do with them hereafter? We ought therefore to be so forearmed that if some persecution which we did not expect arrives, we may not be taken unawares. But I much fear that there are many deaf ears in regard to this subject. So far are those who are sheltered and at their ease from preparing to suffer death when need shall be that they do not even trouble themselves about serving God in their lives. It nevertheless continues true that this preparation for persecution ought to be our ordinary study, and especially in the times in which we live. Those, again, whom God calls to suffer for the testimony of His name ought to show by deeds that they have been thoroughly trained to patient endurance. Then ought they to recall to mind all the exhortations which were given them in times past, and bestir themselves just as the soldier rushes to arms when the tempest sounds. But how different is the result. The only question is how to find out subterfuges for escaping. I say this in regard to the greater part; for persecution is a true touchstone by which God ascertains who are His. And few are so faithful as to be prepared to meet death boldly. It is a kind of monstrous thing, that persons who make a boast of having a little of the gospel, can venture to open their lips to give utterance to such quibbling. Some will say, What do we gain by confessing our faith to obstinate people who have deliberately resolved to fight against God? Is not this to cast pearls before swine? As if Jesus Christ had not distinctly declared (Matt viii., 38) that He wishes to be confest among the perverse and malignant. If they are not instructed thereby, they will at all events remain confounded; and hence confession is an odor of a sweet smell before God, even tho it be deadly to the reprobate. There are some who say, What will our death profit? Will it not rather prove an offense? As if God hath left them the choice of dying when they should see it good and find the occasion opportune. On the contrary, we approve our obedience by leaving in His hand the profit which is to accrue from our death. In the first place, then, the Christian man, wherever he may be, must resolve, notwithstanding dangers or threatings, to walk in simplicity as God has commanded. Let him guard as much as he can against the ravening of the wolves, but let it not be with carnal craftiness. Above all, let him place his life in the hands of God. Has he done so? Then if he happens to fall into the hands of the enemy, let him think that God, having so arranged, is pleased to have him for one of the witnesses of His Son, and therefore that he has no means of drawing back without breaking faith with Him to whom we have promised all duty in life and in death--Him whose we are and to whom we belong, even though we should have made no promise. In saying this I do not lay all under the necessity of making a full and entire confession of everything which they believe, even should they be required to do so. I am aware also of the measure observed by St. Paul, altho no man was ever more determined boldly to maintain the cause of the gospel as he ought. And hence it is not without cause our Lord promises to give us, on such an occasion, "a mouth and wisdom" (Luke xxi., 15); as if he had said, that the office of the Holy Spirit is not only to strengthen us to be bold and valiant, but also to give us prudence and discretion, to guide us in the course which it will be expedient to take. The substance of the whole is, that those who are in such distress are to ask and obtain such prudence from above, not following their own carnal wisdom, in searching out for a kind of loop-hole by which to escape. There are some who tell us that our Lord Himself gave no answer to those who interrogated Him. But I rejoin, First, That this does not abolish the rule which He has given us to make confession of our faith when so required. (I Peter iii., 15.) Secondly, That He never used any disguise to save His life: and, Thirdly, That He never gave an answer so ambiguous as not to embody a sufficient testimony to all that He had to say; and that, moreover, He had already satisfied those who came to interrogate Him anew, with the view not obtaining information, but merely of laying traps to ensnare Him. Let it be held, then, as a fixed point among all Christians, that they ought not to hold their life more precious than the testimony to the truth, inasmuch as God wishes to be glorified thereby. Is it in vain that He gives the name of witnesses (for this is the meaning of the word martyr) to all who have to answer before the enemies of the faith? Is it not because He wished to employ them for such a purpose? Here every one is not to look for his fellow, for God does not honor all alike with the call. And as we are inclined so to look, we must be the more on our guard against it. Peter having heard from the lips of our Lord Jesus (John xxi., 18) that he should be led in his old age where he would not, asked, What was to become of his companion John? There is not one among us who would not readily have put the same question; for the thought which instantly rises in our mind is, Why do I suffer rather than others? On the contrary, Jesus Christ exhorts all of us in common, and each of us in particular, to hold ourselves "ready," in order that according as He shall call this one or that one, we may march forth in our turn. I explained above how little prepared we shall be to suffer martyrdom, if we be not armed with the divine promises. It now remains to show somewhat more fully what the purport and aim of these promises are--not to specify them all in detail, but to show the principal things which God wishes us to hope from Him, to console us in our afflictions. Now these things, taken summarily, are three. The first is, that inasmuch as our life and death are in His hand, He will preserve us by His might that not a hair will be plucked out of our heads without His leave. Believers, therefore, ought to feel assured into whatever hands they may fall, that God is not divested of the guardianship which He exercises over their persons. Were such a persuasion well imprinted on our hearts, we should be delivered from the greater part of the doubts and perplexities which torment us and obstruct us in our duty. We see tyrants let loose: thereupon it seems to us that God no longer possesses any means of saving us, and we are tempted to provide for our own affairs as if nothing more were to be expected from Him. On the contrary, His providence, as He unfolds it, ought to be regarded by us as an impregnable fortress. Let us labor, then, to learn the full import of the expression, that our bodies are in the hands of Him who created them. For this reason He has sometimes delivered His people in a miraculous manner, and beyond all human expectation, as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, from the fiery furnace, Daniel from the den of lions; Peter from Herod's prison, where he was locked, chained, and guarded so closely. By these examples He meant to testify that He holds our enemies in check, altho it may not seem so, and has power to withdraw us from the midst of death when He pleases. Not that He always does it; but in reserving authority to Himself to dispose of us for life and for death, He would have us to feel fully assured that He has us under His charge; so that whatever tyrants attempt, and with whatever fury they may rush against us, it belongs to Him alone to order our life. If He permits tyrants to slay us, it is not because our life is not dear to Him, and held in a hundred times greater honor than it deserves. Such being the case, having declared by the mouth of David (Psalm cxvi., 13), that the death of the saints is precious in His sight, He says also by the mouth of Isaiah (xxvi., 21), that the earth will discover the blood which seems to be concealed. Let the enemies of the gospel, then, be as prodigal as they will of the blood of martyrs, they shall have to render a fearful account of it even to its last drop. In the present day, they indulge in proud derision while consigning believers to the flames; and after having bathed in their blood, they are intoxicated by it to such a degree as to count all the murders which they commit mere festive sport. But if we have patience to wait, God will show in the end that it is not in vain He has taxed our life at so high a value. Meanwhile, let it not offend us that it seems to confirm the gospel, which in worth surpasses heaven and earth. To be better assured that God does not leave us as it were forsaken in the hands of tyrants, let us remember the declarations of Jesus Christ, when He says (Acts ix., 4) that He Himself is persecuted in His members. God had indeed said before, (Zech. ii., 8), "He who touches you touches the apple of mine eye." But here it is said much more expressly, that if we suffer for the gospel, it is as much as if the Son of God were suffering in person. Let us know, therefore, that Jesus Christ must forget Himself before He can cease to think of us when we are in prison, or in danger of death for His cause; and let us know that God will take to heart all the outrages which tyrants commit upon us, just as if they were committed on His own Son. Let us now come to the second point which God declares to us in His promise for our consolation. It is, that He will so sustain us by the energy of His Spirit that our enemies, do what they may, even with Satan at their head, will gain no advantage over us. And we see how He displays His gifts in such an emergency; for the invincible constancy which appears in the martyrs abundantly and beautifully demonstrates that God works in them mightily. In persecution there are two things grievous to the flesh, the vituperation and insult of men, and the tortures which the body suffers. Now, God promises to hold out His hand to us so effectually, that we shall overcome both by patience. What He thus tells us He confirms by fact. Let us take this buckler, then, to ward off all fears by which we are assailed, and let us not confine the working of the Holy Spirit within such narrow limits as to suppose that He will not easily defeat all the cruelties of men. Of this we have had, among other examples, one which is particularly memorable. A young man who once lived with us here, having been apprehended in the town of Tournay, was condemned to have his head cut off if he recanted, and to be burned alive if he continued steadfast to his purpose. When asked what he meant to do, he replied simply, "He who will give me grace to die patiently for His name, will surely give me grace to bear the fire." We ought to take this expression not as that of a mortal man, but as that of the Holy Spirit, to assure us that God is not less powerful to strengthen us, and render us victorious over tortures, than to make us submit willingly to a milder death. Moreover, we oftentimes see what firmness he gives to unhappy malefactors who suffer for their crimes. I speak not of the hardened, but of those who derive consolation from the grace of Jesus Christ, and by His means, with a peaceful heart, undergo the most grievous punishment which can be inflicted. One beautiful instance is seen in the thief who was converted at the death of our Lord. Will God, who thus powerfully assists poor criminals when enduring the punishment of their misdeeds, be so wanting to His own people, while fighting for His cause, as not to give them invincible courage? The third point for consideration in the promises which God gives His martyrs is, the fruit which they ought to hope for from their sufferings, and in the end, if need be, from their death. Now, this fruit is, that after having glorified His Name--after having edified the Church by their constancy--they, will be gathered together with the Lord Jesus into His immortal glory. But as we have above spoken of this at some length, it is enough here to recall it to remembrance. Let believers, then, learn to lift up their heads towards the crown of glory and immortality to which God invites them, thus they may not feel reluctant to quit the present life for such a recompense; and, to feel well assured of this inestimable blessing, let them have always before their eyes the conformity which they thus have to our Lord Jesus Christ; beholding death in the midst of life, just as He, by the reproach of the cross, attained to the glorious resurrection, wherein consists all our felicity, joy, and triumph. END OF VOL. I. 
27316	----	* * * * * No. 16 THAT GOSPEL SERMON ON THE BLESSED HOPE. BY D. L. MOODY. _A Sermon delivered by_ D. L. MOODY, _the Evangelist, at the Great Chicago Tabernacle, Jan. 5, 1877. Repeated in the Boston Tabernacle, April 29th._ In 2 Timothy, 3:16, Paul declares: "All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness;" but there are some people who tell us when we take up prophecy that it is all very well to be believed, but that there is no use in one trying to understand it; these future events are things that the church does not agree about, and it is better to let them alone, and deal only with those prophecies which have already been fulfilled. But Paul does not talk that way; he says: "All scripture is ... profitable for doctrine." If these people are right, he ought to have said: "Some scripture is profitable; but you can not understand the prophecies, so you had better let them alone." If God did not mean to have us study the prophecies, he would not have put them in the Bible. Some of them are fulfilled, and he is at work fulfilling the rest, so that if we do not see them all completed in this life, we shall in the world to come. I do not want to teach anything to-day dogmatically, on my own authority, but to my mind this precious doctrine--for such I must call it--of the return of the Lord to this earth is taught in the New Testament as clearly as any other doctrine is; yet I was in the church fifteen or sixteen years before I ever heard a sermon on it. There is hardly any church that does not make a great deal of baptism, but the New Testament only speaks about baptism thirteen times, while it speaks of the return of our Lord fifty times; and yet the church has had very little to say about it. Now, I can see a reason for this: the devil does not want us to see this truth, for nothing would wake up the church so much. The moment a man takes hold of the truth that Jesus Christ is coming back again to receive his friends to himself, this world loses its hold upon him; gas-stocks and water-stocks, and stocks in banks and horse-railroads, are of very much less consequence to him then. His heart is free, and he looks for the blessed appearing of his Lord, who at his coming will take him into his blessed kingdom. In 2 Peter 1:20, we read: "No prophecy of the scripture is of any private interpretation." Some people say: "O yes, the prophecies are all well enough for the priests and doctors, but not for the rank and file of the church." But Peter says: "The prophecy came not by the will of man, but holy men spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost," and those men are the very ones who tell us of the return of our Lord. Look at Daniel 2:45, where he tells the meaning of that stone which the king saw in his dream that was cut out of the mountain without hands, and that broke in pieces the iron, the brass, the clay, the silver, and the gold. "The dream is certain and the interpretation thereof sure," says Daniel. Now we have seen the fulfillment of that prophecy all but the closing part of it. The kingdoms of Babylon and Medo-Persia and Greece and Rome have all been broken in pieces, and now it only remains for this stone cut out of the mountain without hands to smite the image and break it in pieces till it becomes like the dust of the summer threshing floor, and for this stone to become a great mountain and fill the whole earth. BUT HOW IS HE GOING TO COME? We are told how he is going to come. When those disciples stood looking up into heaven at the time of his ascension, there appeared two angels, who said Acts 1:11: "Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus which is taken up from you into heaven shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven." How did he go up? He took his flesh and bones up with him. "Look at me; handle me; give me something to eat; a spirit hath not flesh and bones as ye see me have; I am the identical one whom they crucified and laid in the grave. Now I am risen from the dead and am going up to heaven," Luke 24:39,43. He is gone, say the angels, but he will come again just as he went. An angel was sent to announce his birth of the virgin; angels sang of his advent in Bethlehem; an angel told the women of his resurrection; and two angels told the disciples of his coming again. It is the same testimony in all these cases. I do not know why people should not like to read the Bible, and find out all about this precious doctrine of our Lord's return. Some have gone beyond prophecy, and tried to tell the very day he would come. Perhaps that is one reason why people do not believe this doctrine. He is coming, we know that; but just when he is coming we do not know; Matt. 24:36, settles that. The angels do not know; and Christ says that even he does not know, but that is something the Father keeps to himself. If Christ had said: "I will not come back for 2,000 years," none of his disciples would have begun to watch for him, but it is the proper attitude of a Christian to be always looking for his Lord's return. So God does not tell us just when he is to come, but Christ tells us to watch. In this same chapter we find that he is to come unexpectedly and suddenly. In the twenty-seventh verse we have these words: "For as the lightning cometh out of the east and shineth unto the west, even so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be." And again in the forty-fourth verse: "Therefore be ye also ready, for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of Man cometh." Some people say that means death: but the Word of God does not say it means death. Death is our enemy, but our Lord hath the keys of death; he has conquered death, hell, and the grave, and at any moment he may come to set us free from death, and destroy our last enemy for us; so the proper state for a believer in Christ is waiting and watching for our Lord's return. In the last chapter of John there is a text that seems to settle this matter. Peter asks the question about John: "Lord what shall this man do? Jesus said unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? Follow thou me. Then went this saying abroad among the brethren that that disciple should not die." They did not think that the coming of the Lord meant death; there was a great difference between these two things in their minds. CHRIST IS THE PRINCE OF LIFE. There is no death where he is; death flees at his coming; dead bodies sprang to life when he touched them or spoke to them. His coming is not death; he is the resurrection and the life, when he sets up his kingdom there is to be no death, but life forevermore. There is another mistake, as you will find if you read your Bible carefully. Some people think that at the coming of Christ everything is to be done up in a few minutes; but I do not so understand it. The first thing he is to do is to take his Church out of the world. He calls the Church his bride, and he says he is going to prepare a place for her. We may judge, says one, what a glorious place it will be from the length of time he is in preparing it, and when the place is ready he will come and take the church to himself. In the closing verses of the fourth chapter of 1 Thessalonians, Paul says: "If we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so also them which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.... We which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God, and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore, comfort one another with these words." That is the comfort of the church. There was a time when I used to mourn that I should not be alive in the millennium; but now I expect to be in the millennium. Dean Alford says--and almost everybody bows to him in the matter of interpretation--that he must insist that this coming of Christ to take his church to himself in the clouds is not the same event us that to judge the world at the last day. The deliverance of the church is one thing, judgment is another. Now, I cannot find any place in the Bible where it tells me to wait for signs of the coming of the millennium, as the return of the Jews, and such like; but it tells me to look for the coming of the Lord; to watch for it; to be ready at midnight to meet him, like those five wise virgins. The trump of God may be sounded, for anything we know, before I finish this sermon--at any rate we are told that he will come as a thief in the night, and at an hour when many look not for him. Some of you may shake your heads and say, "Oh, well, that is too deep for the most of us; such things ought not to be said before these young converts; only the very wisest characters, such as ministers and professors in the theological seminaries, can understand them." But my friends, you find that Paul wrote about these things to those young converts among the Thessalonians, and he tells them to comfort one another with these words. Here in the first chapter of 1 Thessalonians Paul says, "Ye turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven whom he raised from the dead, even Jesus, which delivered us from the wrath to come," To wait for his Son; that is the true attitude of every child of God. If he is doing that he is ready for the duties of life, ready for God's work; aye, that makes him feel that he is just ready to begin to work for God. Then in 1 Thessalonians, 2:19, he says: "For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye, in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ, at his coming?" And again, in the third chapter, at the thirteenth verse, "To the end that he may establish your hearts unblamable in holiness before God, even our Father, at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ with all his saints." Still again, in the fifth chapter, "For ye yourselves know perfectly that the day of the Lord so cometh as a thief in the night. But ye, brethren, are not in darkness, that that day should over take you as a thief." He has something to say about this same thing in every chapter, indeed I have thought this Epistle to the Thessalonians might be called the gospel of Christ's coming again. There are three great facts foretold in the word of God: First, that Christ should come; that has been fulfilled. Second, that the Holy Ghost should come; that was fulfilled at Pentecost, and the church is able to testify to it by its experience of his saving grace. Third, the return of our Lord again from heaven--for this we are told to watch and wait "till he come." Look at that account of the last hours of Christ with his disciples. What does Christ say to them? If I go away I will send death after you to bring you to me? I will send an angel after you? Not at all. He says: "I will come again and receive you unto myself." If my wife were in a foreign country, and I had a beautiful mansion all ready for her, she would a good deal rather I should come and bring her unto it than to have me send some one else to bring her. THE CHURCH IS THE LAMB'S WIFE. He has prepared a mansion for his bride, and he promises for our joy and comfort that he will come himself and bring us to the place he has been all this while preparing. My friends it is perfectly safe to take the word of God as we find it. If he tells us to watch, then watch! If he tells us to pray, then pray! If he tells us he will come again, wait for him! Let the church bow to the word of God, rather than trying to find out how such things can be. "Behold, I come quickly," said Christ. "Even so, come, Lord Jesus," should be the prayer of the church. Take the account of the words of Christ at the communion table. It seems to me the devil has covered up the most precious thing about it. "For as often as ye eat this bread and drink this cup ye do show forth the Lord's death _till he come_." But most people seem to think that the Lord's table is the place for self-examination and repentance, and making good resolutions. Not at all; you spoil it that way; it is to show forth the Lord's death, and we are to keep it up till he comes. Some people say, "I believe Christ will come on the other side of the millennium." Where do you get it? I cannot find it. The word of God nowhere tells me to watch and wait for the coming of the millennium, but for the coming of the Lord. I do not find any place where God says the world is to grow better and better, and that Christ is to have a spiritual reign on earth of a thousand years. I find that the world is to grow worse and worse, and at length there is to be a separation. "Two women grinding at a mill, one taken and the other left; two men in one bed, one taken and the other left," Luke 17:34,36. The church is to be translated out of the world, we have two examples already, two representatives, as we might say, of Christ's kingdom, of what is to be done for all his true believers. Enoch is the representative of the first dispensation, Elijah of the second, and, as a representative of the third dispensation, we have the Saviour himself, who is entered into the heavens for us, and become the first fruits of them that slept. We are not to wait for the great white throne judgement, but the glorified church is set on the throne with Christ, and to help to judge the world. Now, some of you think this is a new and strange doctrine, and that they who preach it are speckled birds. But let me tell you that most of the spiritual men in the pulpits of Great Britain are firm in this faith. Spurgeon preaches it. I have heard Newman Hall say that he knew no reason why Christ might not come before he got through with his sermon. But in certain wealthy and fashionable churches, where they have the form of godliness, but deny the power thereof,--just the state of things which Paul declares shall be in the last days,--this doctrine is not preached or believed. They do not want sinners to cry out in their meeting, "What must I do to be saved?" They want intellectual preachers who will cultivate their taste, brilliant preachers who will rouse their imagination, but they do not want the preaching that has in it the power of the Holy Ghost. We live in the day of shams in religion. The church is cold and formal; may God wake us up! And I know of no better way to do it than to get the church to looking for the return of our Lord. Some people say, "Oh, you will discourage the young converts if you preach that doctrine." Well, my friends, that has not been my experience. I have felt like working three times as hard ever since I came to understand that my Lord was coming back again. I look on this world as a wrecked vessel. God has given me a life-boat, and said to me, "Moody, save all you can." God will come in judgment and burn up this world, but the children of God do not belong to this world; they are in it, but not of it, like a ship in the water. This world is getting darker and darker; its ruin is coming nearer and nearer; if you have any friends on this wreck unsaved, you had better lose no time in getting them off. But some will say: "Do you then make the grace of God a failure?" No, grace is not a failure but man is. The antediluvian world was a failure; the Jewish work was a failure; man has been a failure everywhere, when he has had his own way and been left to himself. CHRIST WILL SAVE HIS CHURCH. But he will save them finally by taking them out of the world. Now, do not take my word for it; look this doctrine up in your Bible, and if you find it there, bow down to it and receive it as the word of God. Take Matthew 24:48,50: "But and if that evil servant shall say in his heart, my Lord delayeth his coming ... the Lord of that servant shall come in a day when he looketh not for him, and in an hour that he is not aware of, and shall cut him asunder and appoint him his portion with the hypocrites; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." Take 2 Peter 3:4,5: "There shall come in the last days scoffers, walking after their own lusts, and saying, where is the promise of his coming? for since the fathers fell asleep all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation." Go out on the streets of Chicago and ask men about the return of our Lord, and that is just what they would say: "Ah, yes, the Lord delayeth his coming!" "Behold, I come quickly," said Christ to John, and the last prayer in the Bible is, "Even so, come Lord Jesus, come quickly." Were the early Christians disappointed then? No; no man is disappointed who obeys the voice of God. The world waited for the first coming of the Lord; waited for 4,000 years, and then he came. He was here only thirty-three years and then he went away; but he left us a promise that he would come again; and as the world watched and waited for his first coming and did not watch in vain, so now to them who wait for his appearing shall he appear a second time unto salvation. Now let the question go round, "Am I ready to meet the Lord if he comes to-night?" "Be ye also ready, for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh." There is another thought I want to call your attention to, and that is this: Christ will bring all our friends, with him when he comes. All who have died in the Lord are to be with him when he comes in the clouds of heaven. "Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power, but they shall be priests of God and of Christ, and shall reign with him a thousand years," Rev. 20:6. "But the rest of the dead lived not again until the thousand years were past; this is the first resurrection" (verse 5). That looks as if the church were to have a thousand years with Christ before the final judgment, when Satan shall be cast out, and there shall be new heavens and new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness. Now, I want to give you some texts to study. When we eat the Lord's supper we show forth his death, until he come. 1 Cor. xi. 26. We are using our talents, until he come. Luke xix. 13. We are fighting the good fight of faith, until he come. 1 Tim vi. 12-14. We are enduring tribulation, until he come. 2 Thes. i. 7. We are to be patient, until he come. James v. 8. We wait for the crown of righteousness, until he come. 2 Tim. iv. 8. We wait for the crown of glory, until he come. 1 Pet. v. 4. We wait for re-union with departed friends, until he come. 1 Thes. iv. 13-18. We wait for Satan to be bound, until he come. Rev. xx. 3. And so let us watch and wait till he comes. D. L. Moody, who is perhaps the most popular and efficient preacher of the gospel of Christ in the world, to-day, is evidently fully committed to a belief in the speedy coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, to judge the world and establish his eternal kingdom. Looking over the published reports of his sermons in Great Britain and in this country, since the beginning of 1874, I give extracts which go to show in a plain light the man's inner love and hope as relates to the last things, and his warm, bold, consistent manner of expressing the same. Thousands pray, God bless D. L. Moody. 1. Mr. Moody proclaims that the grand symbols of Daniel's, second and seventh chapters, announce four dominant world empires, and but four, to cover all centuries of human probation. 2. That these kingdoms are and were Babylon, Medo-Persia, Greece and Rome. 3. That these have had their day of earthly supremacy and the last has nearly passed away. 4. 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16423	----	A COAL FROM THE ALTAR, TO KINDLE THE holy fire of _Zeale_. In a Sermon preached at a generall _Visitation at Ipswich._ By SAM WARD Bach. of Divinity. _The third Edition, corrected and much amended._ [Greek: Theô kai humin] _LONDON_, Printed by _E.G._ for _Joyce Macham_, widow; and are to bee sold in Pauls Church yard, at the signe of _Time_, 1628 To my reverend Friend Mr. SAMUEL WARD. _Sir, your Sermon which I copied partly from your mouth, and partly from your notes, I have adventured into the light; encouraged by the approbation, and earnest entreaty of such, whose judgements you reverence, and whose love you embrace: who also have made bolde heere and there to varie some things, not of any great consequence, if I can judge. I was loth to smoother such fire in my brest; but to vent it, to enflame others. If you shall blame me, I know others will thanke mee. What I have done, is out of Zeale to God and his Church._ Your affectionate friend, _Ambrose Wood._ Revel. 3. 19. _Be zealous._ [Sidenote: Mat. 24. 12.] [Sidenote: 1 Kin. 1. 1.] This watch-word of Christ, if it be not now a word in season, I know not when ever it was, or will bee: Would he now vouchsafe to bestow a letter upon his Church heere on earth; should hee need to alter the tenour of this? which being the last, to the last of the seaven Churches, why may it not (saith an Ancient, upon this text) typifie the estate of the last Age of his Churches? the coldnesse whereof himselfe hath expressely foretolde. And if God should now send through he earth such surveying Angels as _Zacharie_ mentions, chapter 1. Could they returne any other observation of their travailes then theirs; _The whole world lies in lukewarmnesse?_ which makes mee often in my thoughts proportion these ends of time, to the like period of _Davids_ age, when no cloathes were enough to keepe heare in him. _Faith_ I grant is a more radicall, vitall, and necessary grace; but yet not so wholly out of _grace_ with the times, as poore _Zeale_; which yet if by any meanes it might once againe be reduced into favour and practice, before Time sets, and bee no more; I doubt not but Christ would also yet once againe in this evening of the world, come and _Sup_ with us; A favour including all other in it. [Sidenote: 2] My desire especially is, that this our Iland might take it to it selfe, as well as if it had by name beene directed to it; what would it hurt us to make an especiall benefit and use of it? Some of our owne, have so applyed it; (whether out of their judgements, or affections, I say not.) Learned _Fulk_ marvels if it were not by a Propheticall spirit penned for us: others more resolutely have made it a singular type of purpose for us. Their warrant I know not; especially if it bee true which all travellers tell you, _That they finde more zeale at home then abroad._ We are I grant in sundry respects equall to _Laodicea_: Even the very names thereof, as well the first and oldest in regard of the blessings of God, [Greek: Dios polis] Gods Darling, as the later in regard of good Lawes and Civility, _Laodicea_, How well doe they become us? As rich as they, and that in the very same commodity of woolls; _Abounding as they_ with many learned _Zenoes_ & bountifull _Hieroes_; _Parallel_ in all regards; I would I could say lukewarmnesse excepted. But I must bee a faithfull and true witnesse, and yet this is all I have to say; It was, as I conceive, _Laodicea's_ complexion and not her constitution, her practice not her orders, personall lukewarmnesse not legall, which Christ strikes at. That fault I finde in my text, the same I finde in our common Christians, whose spirituall condition, and state is too like the externall situation of our Country, between the Torrid, and the Frigid Zones; neither hot nor colde: and so like _Laodicea_, that if wee take not warning, or warming, we may, I feare, in time come to be spued out of Gods mouth. [Sidenote: 3] For this present assembly of Ministers, could all the choice and time in the world have better fitted mee then mine ordinarie Lot? If fire bee set upon the Beacons, will not the whole Countrey soone be warned and enlightned? [Sidenote: 4] For my selfe also, mee thinkes it will better beseeme my yeeres to heat, then to teach my Ancients; to enkindle their affections, then to enforme their judgements. And whereas _Paul_ bids _Titus_ preach zeale with all authoritie; though in mine owne name I crave your patience, and audience, yet in his name that is the first of the creatures, and _Amen_, I counsell him that hath an eare, to heare what the Spirit saith to the Churches; [Greek: Zêlôson], _Be Zealous._ _A Coale from the Altar._ Revel. 3.19. [Greek: Zêlôson]: _Be Zealous._ Zeale hath been little practized, lesse studied: this heavenly fire hath ever beene a stranger upon earth. Few in all ages that have felt the heat of it, fewer that have knowne the nature of it. A description will rake it out of the embers of obscurity: and it may be that many when they shall know it better, will better affect it. 2. Zeale hath many counterfets and allies. There are many strange fires which having sought to carry away the credit of it, have brought in an ill name upon it: from these it would bee distinguished. 3. Zeale is every where spoken against it hath many enemies and few friends: the world can no more abide it, then beasts can the elementary fire, the rebukes of many have falne upon it, the Divell weaves cunning lies to bring downe the honour of it. Oh that wee could raise and maintaine it, by setting forth the deserved praise of it; and challenge it from the false imputations of such as hate it without a cause. 4. Zeale hath in this our earthly molde, little fuell, much quench-coale, is hardly fired, soone cooled. A good Christian therefore would bee glad to know the Incentives and preservatives of it, which might enkindle it, enflame it, feed it, and revive it when it is going out. 5. Zeale in the worlds opinion, is as common as fire on every mans hearth, no mans heart without zeale, if every man might be his owne judge; If most might be heard there is too much of it; but the contrary will appear if the right markes bee taken, and the true rules of triall and conviction bee observed, and the heart thereby examined. 6. Zeale generally handled will break as lightning in the aire, and seize upon no subject: Application must set it on mens harts, and exhortation warme this old and colde age of the world, chiefly this temperate climate of our nation. _First Part_. It was sayd of olde, that zeale was an _Intension of love_: of late, that it is a compound of _love and anger, or indignation_. The Ancients aimed right, and shot neere, if not somwhat with the shortest. The moderne well discovered the use and exercise of more affections, then love, within the fathome and compasse of zeale; but in helping that default, went themselves somewhat wide, and came not close to the marke: which I ascribe not to any defect of eye-sight in those sharpe sighted Eagles; but onely to the want of fixed contemplation. And to speake truth, I have oft wondered why poore _Zeale_, a vertue so high in Gods books, could never be so much beholding to mens writings as to obtain a just treatise, which hath beene the lot of many particular vertues of inferiour worth; a plaine signe of too much under-value and neglect. Hee that shall stedfastly view it, shall finde it not to bee a degree or intension of love, or any single affection (as the _Schooles_ rather confined then defined zeale) neither yet any mixt affection (as the later, rather compounded then comprehended the nature of it) but an _hot temper, higher degree or intension of them all_. As varnish is no one color, but that which gives glosse & lustre to all; So the opposites of zeale, key-coldnes and lukewarmnesse, which by the Law of contraries must bee of the same nature, are no affections, but severall tempers of them all. [Sidenote: Acts 26. 7.] _Paul_ warrants this description where hee speakes of the twelve Tribes. _They served God with intension or vehemency_. The roote shewes the nature of the branch. Zeale comes of [Greek: zô], a word framed of the very sound and hissing noise, which hot coales or burning iron make when they meete with their contrary. In plaine English, zeale is nothing but heate: from whence it is, that zealous men are oft in Scripture sayd to burne in the spirit. [Greek: zeontes pneumati]. Hee that doth moderately or remisly affect any thing, may be stiled _Philemon_, a lover; he that earnestly or extreamely, _Zelotes_, a zelot; who to all the objects of his affections, is excessively and passionately disposed, his love is ever fervent, his desires eager, his delights ravishing, his hopes longing, his hatred deadly, his anger fierce, his greefe deep, his feare terrible. The Hebrewes expresse these Intensions by doubling the word. This being the nature of zeale in generall, Christian zeale of which wee desire onely to speake, differs from carnall and worldly, chiefly in the causes and objects. It is a spirituall heate wrought in the heart of man by the holy Ghost, improoving the good affections of love, joy, hope, &c. for the best service and furtherance of Gods glory, with all the appurtenances thereof, his word, his house, his Saints and salvation of soules: using the contrarie of hatred, anger, greefe, &c as so many mastives to flie upon the throat of Gods enemies, the Divell, his Angels, sinne, the world with the lusts thereof. By the vertue wherof a _Zealot_ may runne through all his affections, and with _David_, breath zeale out of every pipe, after this manner for a taste; [Sidenote: Psalme Love.] _How doe I love thy Law (O Lord) more then the hony or the hony-combe, more then thousands of silver and gold!_ [Sidenote: Hatred.] _Thine enemies I hate with a perfect hatred._ [Sidenote: Joy.] _Thy testimonies are my delight: I rejoyce more in them, then they that finde great spoyles, more then in my appoynted food._ [Sidenote: Grief.] _Mine eyes gush out rivers of teares. Oh that my head were a fountain of teares, because they destroy thy Law._ [Sidenote: Hope.] _Mine eyes are dimme with wayting: how doe I long for thy salvation?_ [Sidenote: Feare.] _Thy judgements are terrible, I tremble and quake, etc._ Look what pitch of affection the naturall man bestowes upon his dearest darling, what unsatiable thirst the covetous worldling upon his Mammon, the ambitious upon his honour, the voluptuous upon his pleasure; the same the Christian striveth in equall, yea, (if possible) farre exceeding tearmes to convert and conferre upon God and his worship. In briefe, to open a little crevise of further light, and to give a little glimpse of heat: Zeale is to the soule, that which the spirits are to the bodie; wine to the spirits, putting vigour and agility into them. Whence comes that elegant Antithesis in the Scripture. _Bee not drunke with wine wherein is excesse, but be filled with the Spirit._ [Sidenote: Ser. 41. in Can. 49.] [Sidenote: Acts 2.] Christ is sayd to lead his Spouse into the wine-cellar: which Simily _Bernard_ delighting oft to repeat, in two or three Sermons interprets of a speciall measure of zeale inspired into his Church. Thus (saith hee) Christ led his Disciples into the wine cellar on the day of Pentecost; and filled them, and the house with such zeale as they came forth like Giants refreshed with wine, and seemed to the people as men drunke with new wine. [Sidenote: Heb. 1. 7.] It is to the soule, as wings to the foule: this also is a Scripture embleme to picture the Angels with wings, as in the hangings of the Temple, and in the visions of the revelation, in token of their ardent and zealous execution of Gods will: whence also they have their name _Seraphim_; hee maketh his ministers a flame of fire. To this fire and these wings, which we in the Lords prayer desire to imitate, there is nothing in us answerable but our zeale; as wheeles to the charriot: which makes us not goe, but runne the wayes of Gods Commandements, and so runne that we may obtaine. As sailes to the ship, and winde to the sailes, to which alludes the phrase so frequent in Scripture, _Plerophorie_. As courage to the souldier, mettle to the horse, dust to the ground, which makes it bring forth much fruit, yea an hundredfold: vivacity to all creatures. To conclude this, this is that celestiall fire which was shadowed out unto us by that poore element in comparison, and beggarly rudiment, the fire (I meane) of such necessary use in the law, which rather then it should be wanting, the Lord caused it to descend from heaven, that it might cause the Sacrifices to ascend thither againe, as a sweet incense unto the Lord, without which no burnt offering was acceptable. _The Second Part._ But now, as then, there are certaine false fires, abhominable to God, odious to men, dangerous to the _Nadabs_ and _Abihues_ that meddle with them, bringing thereby coales upon their owne heads, & ill favor upon all their services; & not onely so, but that which is worse, an ill report and surmize even on those that offer the right fire, & serve the Lord in spirit and truth: yet for their sakes is the name of zeale blasphemed all the day long. Against these, as then, so now severe caveats and cleere distinctions must bee laid, lest such as have not their senses exercised to put a difference, mistake poysonfull weedes for wholesome hearbes, to their owne destruction; and for the sake of the one, revile the other to the wrong of God and his Saints. It fares not otherwise with the soule then with the body: besides the native & radicall heat, the principall instrument of life, there are aguish and distempered heats, the causes of sicknesse and death. To discerne of those, requires some skill and judgement: yet a good Empirick, a Christian of experience will give a shrewd ghesse at them, the easier & the better if he marke these following signes and symptomes, common to all the kinds of false zeale, here also following. [Sidenote: 1 Ostentation.] First, they are deeply sicke of the pharisaicall humor, they love to be seene of men, and say with _Jehu, Come and see how zealous I am for the Lord of hosts_: they proclaime their almes with a trumpet, paint their good deedes upon Church windowes, engrave their legacies upon tombes, have their acts upon record: Thus, Comets blaze more then fixed Starres. Aguish heats breede flushings, & are more seen in the face, then natural warmth at the heart. Schollers count hiding of Art the best Art: the godly man studies by all meanes how to conceale the one hand from the other, in doing well; hiding of zeale is the best zeale. Secondly, of _Ahabs_ disease exceeding in externall humiliation, affected gestures, passionate sighes, lowdnesse of voyce, odde attires & such like: These know how to rend the garment, hang the head with the bulrush, to whip and launce their skinnes with _Baals_ Priests; and yet strangers to a wounded spirit: not but that true and hearty zeale doth lift up the eyes, knocke the breast, dance before the Arke. Therefore this character may deceive the unwarie; Let _Ely_ take heede of judging _Hanna's_ Spirit rashly by the mooving of her lips: yet hypocrites so usually straine nature and without a cause exceed, and that in publique, and upon the stage, that for the most part, their actions and affections are palpable: as _Jesuites, Cappuchins_, &c. yea in many histrionicall Protestants: Horse-coursers jades will bound, curvet and shew more tricks, then a horse well mettled for the rode or cart. [Sidenote: 3 Complementall.] Thirdly, you may know them by their diligence and curiositie in lighter matters joyned with omission and neglect of greater, wise in circumstance, and carelesse in substance, tithing mint, straining at gnats, &c. In all cheape and easie duties, prodigall: niggardly & slothfull in the waighty things of the Law: these have at command good words, countenance, yea teares from their eyes, sooner then a farthing from their purse, having this worlds goods, and see their brother want; these sticke up feathers for the carcasse, beguiling the simple, couzening the world, but cheefly themselves. [Sidenote: 4 Pragmaticall.] [Sidenote: 5 Censorious.] [Sidenote: 6 Cruell.] Fourthly, these fires cannot keepe themselves within their owne hearths, these spirits cannot keepe themselves within their owne circles. True zeale loves to keepe home, studieth to bee quiet in other mens Dioces: false zeale loves to be gadding, is eagle-ey'd abroad and mole-ey'd at home: Insteed of burning bright and shining cleere; like brinish lights, they sparkle & spet at others, or like ill couched fire-workes let fly on all sides: onely out of their wisdome they know how to spare _Agag_ and the great ones, and bee sure they anger not their great Masters, and meddle with their matches: whereas it is the property of fire that comes from above, to spare the yeelding sheath, and melt the resisting mettall, to passe by the lower roofes, and strike the towred pinacle, as _Nathan, David; Elias, Ahab; John, Herod; Jonas, Ninivie; &c._ Note also in all their proceeding with others, in steede of wholesome severity (which rightly zealous men never come unto but by compulsion, and not without compassion of the offender, weeping with _Moses_ and _Samuel_ over the people, beeing sory with the Emperour, that they know how to write sentences of condemnation) These delight in cruelty, the brand of the Malignant Church; feede their eyes with Massacres, as the Queene-mother. No diet so pleasing to these ravening wolves, as the warme blood of the sheepe. These are they that cry fire and fagot, away with them, not worthy to live, their very mercies are cruelty: especially in their owne cause, they heat the fornace seaven times hotter then in Gods. [Sidenote: 7 Variable and inconstant.] Lastly, these Meteors and Vapours have no constant light, or continued heat (as the fixed starres ever like themselves) but have onely their aguish fits, & lunatick moods; sometimes in adversity they are good under the rod, as _Pharaoh_, againe in prosperity like the fat kine of _Bashan_, ingratefull and forgetfull: sometimes in prosperity when the sunne of peace shineth on them, & the favourable influence of great ones, they shoot foorth their blade with the corne on the house top, running with the streame, & sayling with the winde; sometimes their zeale depends upon the life of _Jehoiada_; sometimes on the company of the Prophets: commonly in the beginning they blaze like straw-fire, but in the end goe out in smoake and smother; whereas in their entrance into profession, they galloped into shewes, and made some girds at hand, they tire, give in, and end in the flesh, whereas all naturall motions are swiftest toward their end. [Sidenote: Be not over just hath 7. expositions heere 2. or 3. more hereafter.] The vestall fires were perpetuall, and the fire of the Altar never went out. Spices and wefts of these evills may bee found in the sincerest Christians: but they suffer not these dead flies to lie and putrefie in the precious boxes of true zeale; of all these the Preachers caveat may be construed, _Be not over just_, though it may also admit other interpretations, as after shall appeare. These are the speciall notes and symptomes of strange fires: the kinds also are many, and might be distributed into many heads; but I will reduce them into three, which are known by their names. [Greek: pseudozêlos], _counterfet Zeale, false fire_. [Greek: tuphlos zêlos] _blinde Zeale, smoakie fire, or fooles fire, ignis fatuus_. [Greek: pikros zêlos], _turbulent Zeale, wilde fire_. The first, wanting truth and sincerity, propounds sinister ends. The second, knowledge and discretion, takes wrong wayes. The third, love and humility, exceeds measure. The first abounds amongst subtile & crafty professours, and is to be abhorred and detected. The second among simple & devout, is to be pitied and directed. The third amongst passionate and affectionate, and is to bee moderated and corrected. The first is the meere vizor of zeale, looking asquint one way and tending another; pretending God and his glory, intending some private and sinister end; first, either of honour and promotion, as _Jehu_, who marched furiously, and his word was the Lord of hosts, but his project was the kingdome. Secondly, at filthy lucre: as _Demetrius_ and his followers, who cried great is _Diana_ of Ephesus; but meant her little silver shrines. It cannot bee denied, but many such there were, who helped to pull downe the Abbyes; not out of any hatred to those uncleane cages, but to reare their owne houses out of the ruines, and spoyled copes to make cushions. _Judas_ complained of superfluity, but greeved it fell besides his bag: many hold temporalities tithes and glebes, unlawfull, because they are loth to forgo them: If _Jezebel_ proclaime a Fast, let _Naboth_ looke to his vine-yard; If the Usurer & Trades-man frequent Sermons, let the buyer & borrower look to themselves. It is too common a thing to make zeale a lure & stale, to draw customers; a bait of fraud, a net to entrap; with malicious _Doegs_, to make it a stalking horse for revenge against the Priest, thereby to discharge their gall at Ministers and other Christians, for the omission and commission of such things, as themselves care not for; with the _Strumpet_ in the Proverbs, to wipe their mouthes, and frequent the Sacrifices, that they may be free from suspicion. All these evils, have I seene under the sunne-shine of the Gospell: but by how much, zeale is more glorious then common profession, by so much is dissembled fervency more detestable then usuall hypocrisie; yea, no better then divellish villany & double iniquity: such painted walles and whited sepulchers, the Lord will breake downe. Let all _Timothies_ & _Nathanaels_ learne to descry them, and discard them: The cure of this was deepely forelayd by Christ; _I counsell thee to buy gold tried in the fire_: all is not gold that glistereth, an image of faith breeds but a shew of zeale; many seemed to trust in Christ, but Christ would not trust them: but such faith as will abide the fire, brings foorth zeale that will abide the touch-stone. [Sidenote: [Greek: kakozêlia].] The second is erroneous or blinde zeale, not according to knowledge, Rom. 10. I beare many devout Papists witnesse (though I feare the learnedst of them be selfe-condemned) that they have this zeale, perswading themselves they doe God best service, when they please the Divell most in their will-worship. The same witnesse I beare many _Seperatists_; though I feare most of them be sicke of selfe-conceitednesse, newfanglenesse, and desire of mastership: for who would not suspect such zeale, which condemnes all reformed Churches, and refuseth communion with such as they themselves confesse to bee Christians, and consequentely such as have communion with Christ? It would greeve a man indeede, to see zeale misplaced, like mettle in a blinde horse; to see men take such paines, and yet fall into the pit. This made _Paul_ to wish himselfe _Anathema_, for the sake of such; and yet the multitude and common people, reason thus; Is it possible but these men have the right? But alas, how should it bee otherwise, when a blinde company will follow a blinde sect-master; This being one property of blinde zeale, a fond admiration and apish imitation of some person, for some excellency they see in him, which so dazles their eyes, that they cannot discerne their errours and infirmities, which they oftner inherit then their vertues; as appeares in the _Lutherans_ and the Jewes, that would sacrifice their children to _Molech_, in imitation of _Abraham_: In these the Divell becomes an Angell of light, and playeth that Dragon, Revel. 12. powring out flouds of persecution against the Church, causing devout men and women, to raise tragedies, breath out threatnings, and persecute without measure; then these the Divell hath no better soldiers: but when their scales fall from their eyes, and they come into Gods tents; God hath none like unto them. The cure of this divinely is forelayd by Christ also, to buy eye-salve of him; Angells have eyes as well as wings to guide their flight: when the ship is under saile, and hath the freshest way; it hath most neede to looke to the sterage, keep the watch, have an eye to the Compasse and land-marks. The third kinde is turbulent zeale, called by _James_ bitter zeale, a kinde of wilde-fire transporting men beyond all bounds and compasse of moderation; proceeding sometime of a weaknesse of nature in men, that have no stay of their passion, like to Clockes whose springs are broken, and Cities whose walls are down. Zeale is a good servant, but an ill master: mettle is dangerous in a head-strong horse. And so the Poets (which were the Heathens Prophets) shadowed out the cure of this, in _Minerva's_ golden bridle, wherewith she menaged her winged _Pegasus_. There is too much of this bitter zeale, of this _Hierapicra_ in all our bookes of controversies: but especially there hath been too much in our domesticall warrs; some sonns of _Bichri_ have blowen the trumpet of contention, trumpets of anger; the Churches of God should have no such custome: Oh that our Churches understood that saying. [Sidenote: Rom. 14. 10.] In quarrells of this nature _Paul_ spends his zeale, not in partaking but in parting the fray, beating downe the weapons on both sides: Who art thou that judgest? who art thou that condemnest thy brother? as if hee should say, The matters are not _Tanti_, wee have made the Divell too much sport already; who threw in these bones to set us together by the eares, whilst hee lets in the common Enemy upon us. _Charitie, Charitie_, is the builder of Churches: Strife about trifles, hath wasted many famous ones, and placed the temples of _Mahomet_, where the golden candle-sticke was wont to stand. Wee pitty the former ages, contending about leavened and unleavened bread, keeping of Easter, fasting on Sundayes, &c. The future ages, will do the like for us. Oh that the Lord would put into the hearts both of the governours & parties to these quarrells, once to make an end of these Midianitish warrs; that wee might joyntly powre out the vialls of our zeale upon the throne of the beast. Thus have you heard the errors and counterfets of zeale, through whose sides, and upon the backe of which, divers of the malicious world use to beat those whom it hates, because their workes are better then their owne; injuriously concluding, that all Zelots are alike. Thus I have heard our Marchants complaine, that the set up blewes have made strangers loath the rich oaded blewes, onely in request; this is an olde sophisme. True judgement would teach us to conclude, that the best druggs have their adulterates; the most current coins their slipps; and that vertue which so many hypocrites put on, to grace themselves withall; is surely some rare and excellent jewell. _The third part._ The true Zelot, whose fervency is in the spirit, not in shew; in substance not in circumstance; for God, not himselfe; guided by the word, not with humours; tempered with charity, not with bitternesse: such a mans praise is of God though not of men: such a mans worth cannot bee set foorth with the tongues of men and Angells. [Sidenote: Arguments of commendation.] Oh that I had so much zeale, as to steep it in it owne liquour; to set it forth in it owne colours, that the Lord would touch my tongue with a coale from his Altar, that I might regaine the decayed credit of it, with the sons of men. [Sidenote: 1. From God's excellency whom zeale only becomes unworthily placed elsewhere.] It is good to bee zealous in a good things: and is it not best, in the best? or is there any better then God, or the kingdome of heaven? Is it comely what ever we do, to do it with all our might? onely uncomely when wee serve God? Is meane and mediocrity, in all excellent Arts excluded, and onely to be admitted in religion? Were it not better to forbeare _Poetry_ or _Painting_, then to rime or dawbe? and were it not better to bee of no religion, then to be colde or lukewarme in any? Is it good to be earnest for a friend, & cold for the Lord of hosts? For whom doest thou reserve the top of thy affections? for thy gold? for thy _Herodias_, &c. O yee adulterers and adultresses, can yee offer God a baser indignity? What ayleth the world? Is it afrayd thinke we, that God can have too much love; who in regard of his owne infinite beauty, & the beames he vouchsafeth to cast upon us, deserves the best, yea all, and a thousand times more then all? Ought not all the springs and brookes of our affection, to runne into this Maine? may not hee justly disdaine, that the least Riveret should bee drained another way? that any thing in the world should bee respected before him, equalled with him, or loved out of him, of whom, for whom, and through whom are all things? Who, or what can bee sufficient for him our Maker and Saviour? In other objects feare excesse: here no extasie is high enough. [Sidenote: 2. From his spirituall nature.] Consider and reason thus with thy selfe (O man) canst thou brooke a sluggard in thy worke, if thou bee of any spirit thy selfe? is not a slothfull messenger as vinegar to thy teeth, and as smoake to thine eyes? Hast thou any sharpnesse of wit, is not dulnesse tedious unto thee? And shall hee that is all spirit (for whom the Angels are slow and colde enough) take pleasure in thy drowzie and heavie service? Doe men choose the forwardest Deere in the heard, and the liveliest Colt in the drove? and is the backwardest man fittest for God? Is not all his delight in the quickest and cheerefullest givers and servitors? Even to _Judas_ he saith, That thou doest, doe quickely; so odious is dulnesse unto him: what else mooved him to ordaine, that the necke of the consecrated Asse should bee broken, rather then offered up in sacrifice; doth God hate the Asse? Or is it not for the sake of the quality of the creature; which hath ever among the Heathens beene an _Hieroglyphick_ of heavinesse and tardity? [Sidenote: 3. Effects of zeale. Revel. 12.] [Sidenote: Opus operatum.] Thirdly, this zeale is so gracious a favorite with God, that it graces with him all the rest of his graces. Prayer if it bee fervent, prevaileth much: the zealous witnesses had power to shut and open heaven: by this, _Israel_ wrastled with God, overcame, and was called a Prince with God: this strengthned the heart of _Moses_ (as _Aaron_ and _Hur_ supported his hands) till the Lord sayd, Let me alone: this made _Cornelius_ his prayer to come into heaven; whither our colde sutes can no more ascend, then vapours from the Still, unlesse there bee fire under it: Repentance, a needefull and primary grace, which the Baptist so urged: but then wee must bee zealous and repent (as my text joynes them) or else no repentance pleaseth God; nor are there fruits worthy repentance. Almes and good deeds are sacrifices pleasing to God; but without zeale, the widowes mites are no better then the rest; It is the cheerefull loose, that doubleth the gift. Generally, as some mans marke and name, furthereth the sale of his commodity; so zeale inhanceth all the graces of God. It pittieth me for _Laodicea_ that lost so much cost; had as many vertues, did as many duties as other Churches: but for want of this, Christ could not sup with them. Furnish a table with the principallest fare, and daintiest dishes that may be had; let them be rosted & boyled to the halves, or stand on the table till they bee lukewarme; what will the guests say? All that we can doe is but the deede done, unlesse zeale conferre grace. [Sidenote: 4. Baptismus Flaminis & Fluminis.] Fourthly, zeale is the richest evidence of faith, and the cleerest demonstration of the Spirit: The Baptisme of water, is but a cold proofe of a mans Christendome; being common to all commers: but if any bee baptized with fire, the same is sealed up to the day of Redemption. If any shall say, friend, what doest thou professe a religion without it; how can hee choose but bee strucke dumb? Can wee suppose worme-wood without bitternesse, a man without reason? then may wee imagine a religion, and a Christian, without spirit and zeale. The Jesuite saith, I am zealous; the Separatist, I am zealous; their plea is more probable, then the lukewarme worldlings, that serve God without life. If the colour bee pale and wan, and the motion insensible, the party is dead or in a swoune; if good and swift, wee make no question. The zealous Christian is never to seeke for a proofe of his salvation: what makes one Christian differ from another in grace, as starrs doe in glory; but zeale? All beleevers have a like precious faith: All true Christians have all graces in their seedes; but the degrees of them are no way better discerned then by zeale: Men of place distinguish themselves, by glistering pearles: A Christian of degrees shines above other in zeale. Comparisons I know are odious to the world, that faine would have all alike: but the righteous is better then his neighbour: All Christians are the excellent of the earth, the Zelot surmounteth them all, as _Saul_ the people by the head and shoulders; hee is ever striving to excell and exceeds others and himselfe. One of these is worth a thousand others, one doth the worke of many: which made him speake of _Elisha_ in the plurall number, _The horsemen and Charriots of Israel_; besides his owne worke, hee winns and procures others, makes Proselytes. It is the nature of fire to multiply, one coale kindles another: his worke so shines, that others come in and glorifie God; marvelling and enquiring what such forwardnesse should meane, concluding with _Nebuchadnezzar, Surely the servants of the most high God._ These are good Factors and Agents, doing God as good service, as Boutesewes doe the Divell, and Jesuites the Pope, sparing no cost, nor labour; and what they cannot doe themselves, they doe by their friends, _Who is on my side, who? &c._ As for lets and impediments, they over-looke and over-leape them, as fire passeth from one house to another; neither is there any standing for any Gods enemies before them: they make havock of their owne and others corruptions. If you will rightly conceive of _Peters_ zeale in converting & confounding, you must imagine (saith _Chrysostome_) a man made all of fire walking in stubble. All difficulties are but whetstones of their fortitude. The sluggard saith, _There is a Lyon in the way_; tell _Samson_ & _David_ so, they will the rather goe out to meet them. Tell _Nehemiah of Samballat_, hee answereth, _Shall such a man as I feare?_ Tell _Caleb_ there are _Anakims_, and hee will say, _Let us goe upp at once, &c_. Let _Agabus_ put off his girdle and binde _Paul_, let him be told in every City, that bonds await him, hee is not onely ready for bonds, but for death; tell _Jubentius_, hee must lay downe his life, he is as willing as to lay off his clothes: tell _Luther_ of enemies in _Wormes_, hee will goe if all the tiles of the houses were Divells. The horse neighs at the trumpet; the Leviathan laughs at the speare. They that meane to take the Kingdome of God by violence, provide themselves to goe through fire and water, carry their lives in their hands, embrace faggots; they say to father and mother, _I know you not_: to carnall Counsellers and friendly enemies, _Get you behinde mee Sathan._ Zeale is as strong as death, hot as the coales of Juniper; flouds of many waters cannot quench it. _Agar_, Pro. 30. speakes of foure things, stately in their kinde; I will make bold to add a fift, comprehending and excelling them all namely the zealous Christian, strong and bold as the Lyon; not turning his head for any; as swift as the grey-hound in the waies of Gods commandements; in the race to heaven, as nimble as the Goat climbing the steepe and craggy mountaines of pietie and vertue; A victorious King, overcoming the world and his lusts: _Salomon_ in all his royalty, is not cloathed like one of these in his fiery Charriot. To cut off the infinite praises of zeale, let us heare what honourable testimonies and glorious rewards, it pleaseth God to conferre upon it; _Davids_ ruddy complexion and his skill in musique, made him amiable in the eyes of men: but the zeale of his heart, stiled him a man after Gods owne heart; and the sweet Singer of Israel. _Abraham_, that could finde in his heart to sacrifice his _Isaack_, was called the friend of God. The same vertue denominated _Jacob_ a Prince with God. _Elisha_, The Charriots and horse-men. _Paul_, A chosen vessell, &c. [Sidenote: Revel. 12.] [Sidenote: Revel. 7. 3. Ezek. 9. Exod. 12.] Neither doth God put them off, with names and empty favours, but upon these he bestowes his graces: _David_ dedicateth his Psalmes to him that excelled: God in dispensing of favours, observeth the same rule, to him that overcommeth will I give, &c, To him that hath, shall bee given. Husbandmen cast their seede uppon the fertilest ground, which returnes it with the greatest interest: God gives most talents to those that improove them in the best banke. _Joseph_ shall have a party coloured coat, of all kindes of graces and blessings: And because he knowes this will purchase them hatred and envy, hee takes them into speciall tuition; if any will hurt his zealous witnesses, there goeth out a fire out of their mouthes, to devoure their enemies. A man were better anger all the witches in the world then one of these. If God bring any common judgements, he sets his seale and _Thau_ on their fore-heads, & sprinkles their posts; snatcheth _Lot_ out of the fire (who burneth in zeale, as _Sodome_ in lust) as men doe their plate whiles they let the baser stuffe burne. In fine, hee taketh _Enoch_ and _Eliah_ in triumphant Charriots up to heaven, and after their labours and toyles, setteth them in speciall Thrones, to rest in glory; The Apostles in their twelve, the rest in their order, according to their zeale. And though hee may well reckon the best of these, unprofitable servants; yet such congruity (not of merits, but of favour) it pleaseth him to observe in crowning his graces, that the most zealous heere, are the most glorious there. Who would not now wonder, how ever this royall vertue should have lost it grace with the world; how ever any should admit a low thought of it? But what? Shall all the indignity which hell can cast upon it, make it vile in our eyes? or rather, shall wee not reason from the opposition, as _Tertullian_ did of _Nero:_ That religion which _Nero_ so persecutes, must needs be excellent. [Sidenote: 1 Object. Zeale is madd, and makes men mad.] [Sidenote: Acts 26. 24 1 Cor.] If zeale were not some admirable good, the Divell and World would not so hate it; Yet lest silence should bee thought to baulke some unanswerable reasons, let us see how they labour to be madd with reason: Let _Festus_ bee the Speaker for the rest, for hee speakes what all the rest thinke; you know his madd objection, and _Pauls_ sober answer in that place, and the like, 2 Cor. 5.13. whether hee bee madd or sober, it is for God and you. This text bids us bee zealous and repent; the word signifies be wise againe, or returne to your wits. The prodigall is sayd to come to himselfe, when he was first heat with this fire. Wee may well answer the world as old men doe young: You thinke us Christians to bee madd that follow heaven so eagerly; but we know you to bee madd, that run a-madding so after vanity. [Sidenote: Acts. 2.] [Sidenote: Acts. 7.] A Christian indeed is never right, till he seeme to the world to be beside himselfe; Christs owne kindred were afrayd of him. The Apostles are sayd to be full of new wine; besides, with these the world is madd: they runn with _Stephan_ like madd men; _Nichodemus_ and such as he, never offends them. [Sidenote: 2 Object.] [Sidenote: A makebate.] [Sidenote: Tenterden steeple.] You know also what _Ahab_ laid to the charge of _Eliah_; with the Apologie hee made for himselfe. This is a stale imputation in ages. _Haman_ accused _Mordechay_ and the Jewes of it. The Apostles are sayd to bee troubles of the whole earth. In the Primitive Church all mutinies and contentions were layd to the Martyrs. True it is, where zeale is, there is opposition, and so consequently troubles: Christ sets this fire on earth, not as an author, but by accident: The theefe is the authour of the fray, though the true man strike never so many blowes: but the _Ahabs_ of the world, trouble Israel; then, complaine of _Eliah:_ The Papists will blow upp the State, then father it upon the Puritans. It is not for any wise man, to beleeve the tythe of the tales and slanders, which flie abroad of the zealous: Lewd men would fain strike at all goodnes through their sides. [Sidenote: 3 Object. Proud.] You may remember also _Eliabs_ uncharitable censure of _David_, I know the pride of thine heart. So doe all worldlings measure others by their owne length; if they see any forwardnesse in the peaceablest spirit, they ascribe it either to vaine-glory, or covetousnesse; the onely springs that set their wheeles on going: but of this the knower of the hearts must judge betweene us. [Sidenote: 4 Object. They keep no meane.] When slaundering will not serve, then fall they to glavering, cunningly glancing at zeale, whiles they commend the golden meane wherein vertue consists. But Christians, take heede none spoyle you through such Philosophy; or rather Sopistry: for true Philosophy will tell you that the meane wherein vertue is placed, is the middle betwixt two kindes, and not degrees: And it is but meane vertue that loves the meane in their sense. [Sidenote: 5 Object. Undiscreet.] Oh say they, but some discretion would doe well; It is true, but take withall _Calvins_ caveat to _Melancthon_: That he affect not so the name of a moderate man, and listen to such Syrens songs, till he lose his zeale. I have observed, that which the world miscalls discretion, to eat upp zeale, as that which they call policy, doth wisdome. As _Joab_ stabbed _Abner_ under a colour of friendship: Antichrist undermineth Christ, by pretending to be his Vicar. The feare of overdoing makes most come too short; of the two extreamities, wee should most feare lukewarmnesse: rather let your milke boyle over then be raw. From glavering, they fall to scoffing; yong Saints, will prove but olde Divels; these hot-spurrs will soone runne themselves out of breath. But wee say, such were never right bred; such as proove falling starres, never were ought but meteors; the other never lose light or motion: spirituall motions may be violent and perpetuall. When none of these will take, they fal to right downe rayling; these Puritans, these singular fellowes, &c. unfit for all honest company. I hope the states Puritan, and the common Puritan bee two creatures. For with that staffe the multitude beats all that are better then themselves, & lets fly at all that have any shew of goodnes. But with that which most call Puritanisme, I desire to worship God. For singularity, Christs calls for it, and presseth & urgeth it; What singular thing doe you, or what odde thing doe you? Shall Gods peculiar people, doe nothing peculiar? The world thinkes it strange, wee runne not with them into excesses, and doe not as most doe, that wee might escape derision: Judge you which of these men shall please: I beleeve none shall ever please Christ, till they appeare odde, strange and precise men, to the common sort; and yet neede not bee over just neither Let them that have tender eares stop them against the charmes of the world, and scornes of _Michol_, unlesse they were wiser: Let him that hath a right eare, heare what Christ saith to the Churches, _Be zealous_. _The fourth part._ [Sidenote: Incentives.] Yea, but by what meanes shall a Christian attaine this fire, and maintaine it when he hath gotten it. Say not in thine heart, What _Prometheus_ shall ascend into heaven and fetch it thence; thou mayest fetch it thence by thine owne prayer: as did _Elias_ and the Apostles, men of infirmities as well as thy selfe; pray continually, and instantly: the Lord that breathed first thy soule into thee, will also breath on thy soule: I speake not of miraculous (which was but a type) but of ordinarie inspiration. Prayer and zeale are as water and ice: mutually producing each other; when it is once come downe upon thine altar; though no water can quench it, yet must it bee preserved fresh, by ordinarie fuell; especially the Priests lipps must keepe it alive. Sermons are bellowes ordained for this purpose. The word read is of divine use, but doth not with that motion stirre these coales. Experience sheweth, the best oration will not so much moove as the meanest Orator. After the sparkles once by these meanes kindled, cherish and feede them by reading the word: Let it dwell richly in thine heart, excite thy dulnesse by spirituall Hymnes. Love-songs enflame not lust, more, then the Song of Songs doth zeale: Reade or sing the 119. Psalme; and if thou beest not zealous, every verse will checke thee in thy throat: Meditation is another helpe, approoved by _Isaacks_ and _Davids_ practice: An Art lately so taught, as I shall neede onely to poynt at the choyce theames, suiting and furthering this argument. I need not goe far to fetch this fire: I may strike it out of every word of this Epistle to _Laodicea_. Behold the Lord God, especially thy Lord Christ in his glorious titles and Majesty; for so hee beginnes his visions to _John_; and his Epistles to the Churches, exciting their dull hearts. By such apparitions did hee set on fire the heart of _Moses_ in the burning bush; and enflamed _Stephan_, his first Martyr: answerable and proportionable to which, are our serious contemplations. Behold him as one that seeth thee, and knoweth thy workes; the rouzing preface of all these Letters. _Casars_ eye made his souldiers prodigall of their blood. The Atheist thinks God takes as much notice of him and his prayers, as hee doth of the humming of Flyes and Bees; and therefore, no marvell if his service bee formall and fashionable. The faithfull Christian by faiths prospective sees him at home, and heares him saying, Well done thou good servant; which maketh him to worke out his heart. Behold him as the beginning of creatures, especially of the new creature. Oh! what love hath hee shewed thee in thy redemption? out of what misery, into what happinesse, by what a price, to what end; but that thou shouldest bee zealous of good workes? Behold him as the faithfull witnesse, that witnessed himselfe for thee a good witnesse, and heere faithfully counsels thee to follow his patterne. Behold him as a speedie and royall rewarder of his followers. Take thy selfe into paradise, represent to thy selfe thy crowne, thy throne, thy white robes; looke not on the things that are seene, but on the farre most excellent wait of glory; looke upon these, and faint if thou canst. Behold also hee is a consuming fire, a zealous God, hating lukewarmnesse not onely destroying _Sodome_ with fire and brimstone, and providing _Tophet_ for his enemies; but awaking also his drowzie servants, by judgements (as _Absolon Joab_ by firing his corne) his Israelites by fiery serpents: whom hee loveth, hee chasteneth, and keepeth them in the fornace of fiery trialls, till they come to their right temper. Hee standeth and knocketh: if nothing will arouze us, a time will come, when heaven and earth shall burne with fire, and Christ shall come in flaming fire, to render vengeance with fire unquenchable. Wee therefore that know the terrour of that day, What manner of persons ought we to bee? From God turne thine eyes unto man: set before thee the pillar, and clowde of fiery examples, that have led us the way into Canaan. Hee is but a dull lade that will not follow: The stories of the Scriptures, the lives of the Fathers, the acts and monuments of the Church, have a speciall vertue for this effect. The very pictures of the fires, and Martyrs, cannot but warme thee. If thou canst meete with any living examples, follow them, as they follow Christ, frequent their company: even _Saul_ amongst the Prophets, will prophesie. No bangling hawke, but with a high flyer will mend her pitch: the poorest good companion, will doe thee some good; when _Silas_ came, _Paul_ burnt in the spirit: a lesser sticke may fire a billet; If thou findest none, let the coldnesse of the times heat thee, as frosts doe the fire; Let every indignation make thee zealous, as the dunstery of the Monkes, made _Erasmus_ studious: one way to bee rich in times of dearth, is to engrosse a rare commodity, such as zeale is: now, if ever, _they have destroyed thy Law_; It is now high time to be zealous. Consider and emulate the children of this generation, to see how eager every _Demas_ is for worldly promotion. How did that worthy Bishop disdaine to see an harlot, more curiously to adorne her body unto sinne and death, then hee could his soule unto life everlasting. It angred _Demosthenes_ to see a Smith earlier at his anvile, then he was at his deske. When thou hast thus heat thy selfe, take heede of catching colde againe, as many have done, and brought their zeale to deaths doore. [Sidenote: Zeales extinguishers.] This fire may goe out divers wayes: first by subtraction of fewell; if a man forbeare his accustomed meales, will not his naturall heat decay? The _Levites_ that kept Gods watch in the Temple, were charged expressely, morning & evening, if not oftner, to looke to the lights and the fire. Hee that shall forget (at the least) with the _Curfeau-bell_ in the evening to rake uppe his zeale by prayer, and with the day-bell in the morning to stirre up & kindle the same, if not oftner with _Daniel_; I cannot conceive how hee can possibly keepe fire in his heart. Will God blesse such, as bid him not so much as good-morrow and good-even? Hee that shall despise or neglect prophesie, must hee not needes quench the spirit? have I not marked glorious professors, who for some farme sake, or other commodities, have flitted from Jerusalem to Jericho; where the situation was good, but the waters nought; and their zeale hath perished, because vision hath failed? Such as reade the Bible by fits upon rainy dayes, not eating the booke with _John_, but tasting onely with the tippe of the tongue: Such as meditate by snatches, never chewing the cud and digesting their meat, they may happily get a smackering, for discourse and table-talke; but not enough to keepe soule & life together, much lesse for strength and vigour. Such as forsake the best fellowship, and wax strange to holy assemblies, (as now the manner of many is) how can they but take colde? Can one coale alone keepe it selfe glowing? Though it goe not out for want of matter, yet may it bee put out by sundry accidents; when it is newly kindled, it may be put out with scoffes and reproaches, if _Peter_ take not heede, and fence himselfe well against them; but if once throughly growne, such breath will but spred and encrease it. It is possible fire may bee oppressed with too much wood, and heat suffocated with too much nourishment: over-much prayer, reading, and study, may bee a wearinesse both to flesh and spirit: but it so rarely happeneth, that I neede not mention it; and yet the soule hath its satiety. There be some such perchance over-nice men in this sense also, who have not learned that God will have them mercifull to themselves: It is often smoothered for want of vent and exercise. Let such as use not and expresse not their zeale, bragge of their good hearts; surely they have none such, or not like to have them such. If _Nicodemus_ had not buried Christ by day, we might have feared his zeale had gone out, for all his comming by night. Yet this is not so ordinary, as to extinguish it by the quench-coale of sinne; grosse sinne every man knowes will waste the conscience, and make shipwracke of zeale: but I say, the least known evill unrepented of, is as a theefe in the candle, or an obstruction in the liver. I feare, _David_ served God but reasonably, till hee published his repentance; hee that steales his meat, though poverty tempt him, yet giveth thankes but coldly: zeale and sinne, will soone expell the one or the other out of their subject; Can you imagine in the same roofe, God and Beliall, the Arke and Dagon? Lastly, and most commonly, forraine heat will extract the inward, and adventicious heat consume the naturall. The Sunne will put out the fire; and so will the love of the world, the love of the Father, they cannot stand together in intense degrees, one cannot serve both these matters with such affection as both would have. Seldome seest thou a man make haste to bee rich, and thrive in religion. Christs message to _John_ holds true; The poore are most forward in receiving and following the Gospell: as thou lovest thy zeale, beware of resolving to bee rich, lest gain proove thy godlinesse; take heede of ambitious aspiring, lest Courts and great places, proove ill aires for zeale, whither it is as easie to go zealous, as to returne wise: _Peter_ whiles hee warmed his hands, cooled his heart; Not that greatnesse and zeale cannot agree; but for that our weaknes many times severs them. If thou beest willing to die poore in estate, thou mayest the more easily live rich in grace. _Smyrna_, the poorest of the seven Candle-stickes, hath the richest price upon it. The diligent practise of these courses will make easie the practise of this counsell, _Be zealous, &c_. _The fift part._ [Sidenote: 1 Object.] But heere mee thinke I heare the lukewarme worldling of our times, fume & chafe, and aske what needs all this adoe for zeale, as if all Gods people were not zealous enough. [Sidenote: Answer.] Such as thinke they are, or can bee zealous enough, neede no other conviction to bee poore, blinde, naked, wretched and pittifull _Laodiceans_: Fire is ever climbing and aspiring higher; zeale is ever aiming at that which is before; carried towards perfection; thinking meanely of that which is past, and already attained, condemning his unprofitable service, as _Calvin_ his last Will: this rule tries full conceited Christians. [Sidenote: 2 Object.] What would you have us doe? wee professe, keepe our Church, heare Sermons, as Christians ought to doe. [Sidenote: Answer.] Affectionate friendship and service is not onely for publique shew and pomp, upon festivall dayes, in Chambers of Presence; but for domesticall, ordinary, and private use; to such holy-day and Church retainers, God may well say, Let us have some of this zeale at home and apart. All affections are most passionate, without a witnesse. Such as whose families, closets, fields, beds, walkes, doe testifie of their worship, as well as temples & Synagogues, are right servitors: God much respects their devotions; and they have strong proofe of the power of godlinesse. [Sidenote: 3 Object.] Wee would you should know, that wee are such as have prayer sayd or read in our families and housholds; or else we say some to our selves at our lying downe, and uprising and more then that, say you what you will, wee holde more then needs. [Sidenote: Answer.] First, know that zeale knowes no such unmannerly courses, as to slubber over a few prayers, whiles you are dressing and undressing your selves, as most doe, halfe asleepe, halfe awake; know further, that such as hold onely a certaine stint of daily duties, as malt-horses their pace, or mill-horses their round, out of custome or forme, are far from that mettle which is ever putting forward, growing from strength to strength, and instant in duties, in season, out of season: and this sayes hard to lazy Christians. [Sidenote: 4 Object.] May not wee goe too far on the right hand? [Sidenote: Answer.] It is true: but liberality baulkes, and feares covetousnesse and niggardize, more a great deale then prodigallity; so does zeale lukewarmnes and coldnesse, more then too much heate and forwardnesse; the defect is more opposite and dangerous to some vertues, then the excesse. [Sidenote: 5 Object.] Why? are not some thinke you, too straight laced, that dare not use their Christian liberty in some recreations? sware by small oathes, or lend money for reasonable use? hath not God left many things indifferent, wherein some shew themselves more nice then wise? [Sidenote: Answer.] Zeale will cut of the right hand, if it cause to offend; much more to pare the nayles and superfluities: it consumes the strongest, dearest corruptions; much more will it singe off such haire and drosse as these: If ought be praise worthy, it imbraceth such things; if any be doubtfull, carrying shew of evill, of ill reporte, it dares not meddle with them; it feares that some of these are as indifferent, as fornication was among the heathen. [Sidenote: 6 Object.] There are but few such, no not of the better sort, as you speake of. [Sidenote: Answer.] Graunt there bee any, and zealous emulation culleth the highest examples. Such as meane to excell in any Art, travell to find out the rarest workemen, purchase the choysest Copies; hee that hath true zeale, will strive to purge himselfe, as Christ is pure. [Sidenote: 7 Object.] Will you have us runne before our neighbours, or live without example or company? [Sidenote: Answer.] Cowards and cravens, stand and look who goes first: souldiers of courage will cast lots for the onset and fore-rank, for desperat services, and single combats. Lades will not go without the way be led. [Sidenote: 8 Object.] So we may soone come to trouble, and danger enough. [Sidenote: Answer.] What daunger can there bee, of an honest, peaceable, religious forwardnesse? The slug or snaile, puts out the tender horne to feele for lets in the way, and puls them in where there is no cause; so doe the fearfull that shall be without: but zeale either findes no dangers, or makes them none; it neither feares to doe well, or to reproove ill doers, let who so will be displeased. Some indeed care not whome they offend, they are so harsh and fiery, they can beare with nothing. [Sidenote: 9 Object.] Will true Christianity allow us to beare with any sinne? [Sidenote: Answer.] Can tinne, or hot iron choose but hisse againe, if cold water be cast on it? can a righteous soul choose but vexe it selfe at open evill? Such Ostriches as can digest oathes, prophane and filthie speeches, shew what mettle they have for the Lord of hosts; who yet will be ready enough to offer the challenge, or stab, for the least disgrace to themselves, or their mistresse: _Phineas_ had rather, if it were lawfull, fight in Gods quarrels then his owne. [Sidenote: 10 Object.] All are not by nature of so hot dispositions, or so fiery-spirited, as others. [Sidenote: Answer.] If there bee such a dull flegmaticke creature as hath no life nor spirite in any thing hee goes about, or whome nothing will moove; hee may plead complexion, and yet grace is above nature: but the best way is; See every man compare his devotion in matters of God, with his spirits and mettle in other affayres, wherein his element or delight lies; if the one equall not the other, the fault is not in nature: the oldest man hath memory enough for his gold, and the coldest constitution heate enough where it likes. [Sidenote: 11 Object.] Well, our harts may bee as good as the best though we cannot shew it. [Sidenote: Answer.] Fire cannot be long smothered, it will either finde a vent, or goe out; zeale will either finde word, or deede, to expresse it selfe withall. [Sidenote: 12 Object.] All have not the gift of utterance. [Sidenote: Answer.] Violent affections have made the dumbe to finde a tongue; If it be lowe water the mille may stand; but aboundance of heart will set the wheeles on going What earnest discourses will unlearned Mariners make of their voiages? Huntsmen of their game, &c. [Sidenote: 13 Object.] All have not ability and meanes: many have great charges. [Sidenote: Answer.] Love and zeale are munificent, make money their servant, not their master: wheresoever the heart is enlarged, the hand cannot bee straightned; where the bowells are open, the purse is not shut. _Herod_ for his pleasure, cares not for halfe his kingdome; what will not some Gentle-men give for hawks and hounds? not onely the poore woman that spent the rich oyntment on Christ, the widow that gave all her substance, the converts that solde all, and threw all at the feet of the Apostles, but even the bounty of the superstitious Papists shall rise in judgement against such as professe a religion, wil give it good words & countenance; but bee at no cost with it, and know a cheaper way to save charge withall. [Sidenote: 14 Object.] All have not so much leisure to spend, so much time and study, about matters of religion, they have somewhat else to doe. [Sidenote: Answer.] There are indeede many vanities, which distract and divide the minde of worldlings; but zeale counts one thing needefull, to which it makes all other veile and stand by. Is there any so good an husband of his time, that will not steale some houre for his pleasure; that cannot spare his God and his soule halfe an houre, morning and evening; that bestowes not idly, as much time as a Sermon or two would take upp in the weeke? The soule I confesse hath his satiety, as well as the body; but why should we sit on thornes, more at a Sermon then at a Play; thinke the Saboths longer then holi-daies; but for want of zeale? If thou beest not a vaine and willing deceiver of thy selfe, and others; deale honestly & plainly with thy soule, try thy selfe by these few rules; and if thou judgest thy selfe to come short of them, amend and _be Zealous_. _The sixt part._ Which little round fire-ball comming to hand, as _Davids_ small stone, by ordinary lot, knowing the insufficiency of mine owne; I pray that God with his arme would scatter it farre and wide into those wilde parts of the world without the pale of Christendome, which lie so frozen and benummed in their Paganisme, that they feele not the coldnesse of their religions; as also in those regions that being within the Tropickes of the Church, have just so much, and so little heat, as to thinke they have enough, and neede no more: Cheefly mine affections burne within mee for the good of mine owne Nation, for which I would I had but so much zeale as truely to wish my selfe _Anathema_, upon condition it had heat sutable to the light. For I must beare it record, it hath knowledge, I would I could say, according to zeale. But the spirit, knowing that which is spoken to all to bee in effect as spoken to none, directs mee what I should speake to Churches, to speake to particular Angels. Now the principall in our Church, under that Archangell of the covenant, I most willingly acknowledge to bee my Lord the King, as an Angell of light. And why not that very Angell, who by his writing hath begunne to powre out the fift viall upon the throne of the beast, darkned his Kingdome, caused them to gnaw their tongues for greefe, and blaspheme for the smart of their wounds; though as yet they will not repent of their errours? The Lord annoynt him more and more with this oyle above all the Princes of the earth, that from his head, it may runne downe upon our skirts; make him shine in zeale above all other starres, to the warming & enlightning of this whole Horizon; set him up as a standard for his people; cloath him with zeale, as with a cloake, to recompence the fury of the adversaries, that he may strike the Aramites, not three but five times till they be consumed; that he may put the Ammonites under the yron sawes, harrowes, axes, which have provoked him as much, as ever they did _David_, 2. Sam. 12. But yet as in the time of the old Testament the custody of the fire and light was the charge of the Priest; so here I observe Christ to lay it upon his Ministers, interpreting his rule by his practise, _Tell the church, Tell the Angell of the Church_; honouring that despised office, with that stately stile; intimating the union betwene People and Minister, that they should bee as one: what is spoken to the one, is spoken to the other; not as some, that ever make Clergy and Layty two members, in division and opposition; neither yet as some spirites that lay all level, but implying a property, especially in grace and zeale in the Ministers, whom the Preacher calls the master of the assemblies; that they should exceede as farre the people, as Angels doe men, and that he will reckon with them for the religion of the people, because colde Priests make bolde sinners; zealous _Jehoiada_ may mak _Jehoash_ the King zealous, so long as hee lives with him. Wee therefore men and brethren, or rather men and Angels, upon whom it lies to keepe life and heat in the devotion of the world, to consume the drosse of vices and heresies, that have fallen into the sinke of our times; wee that are to make ready our people for the second comming of Christ, is the spirit of _Ely_ thinke wee sufficient for us? What manner of persons ought we to bee, burning in spirit, fervent in prayer, thundring in preaching, shining in life and conversation? Why is it then my brethren (oh let my plainest rebukes bee the fruits and signes of my best love to mine owne Tribe; let them not bee as breakings of the head, but as precious balme to those whose honour with the people, I preferre to my life) why is it that some of us pray so rarely and so coldly in private (the evills of our times will not out but by frequent fasting and fervent prayer) in publique so briefly, so perfunctorily, and feebly, that wee scarce have any witnesses of what wee say? Why are there yet remaining any Mutes amongst us? Why are ther any tounges that dare speake against often or zealous preaching? Doth not _Paul_ adjure us before him that shall judge the elect Angels, that we preach instantly, in season, and out of season? Reade wee the commentaries of that text, or let the practise of Ancients expound it; and tell mee if ever old or new interpreted that charge, of bare reading, of quarterly, or monethly, yea, or of once on the Sabbath preaching onely, as if that were fully sufficient, without endeavoring or desiring any more. If alwaies often preaching bee prating, what meant the practise I say, not onely of _Calvin_, and _Beza_ but of _Chrysostome_, _Basil_, _Ambrose_ with other of the Fathers, preaching every day in the weeke, some of them twise in the weeke, none of them so seldome, as such would bear the world in hand. What meant sundry ancient Councells, (the eleventh of _Tolet_ in Spaine) yea even of Trent it selfe, to excite the torpor of the Bishoppes of their times, as their Canons speake, enjoyning frequent preaching, calling for more then almost any man is able to performe? But heere I may turne reprooving into rejoycing, that preaching is growne in any better fashion and grace with our times, by royall and reverend, both examples and countenance: only I wish that every _Archippus_ may fulfill his Ministery, be instant and constant in preaching. _Salomon_ the older, and wiser hee grew, the more hee taught the people, sharpened his goads, and fastned his nails; whereas many amongst us are so wise in their youth, as to affect the foolishnes of preaching; but in their dotage, Ease slayes the foole; when the doore is oyled, it leaves creaking; they must then fall to make much of themselves, till contrary with the Prophet they cry out, My fatnesse, my fatnesse, my belly, my belly; so favouring their lungs, that they will bee sure never to die of _Davids_ consumption of zeale; let such preach, say they, that want livings: and if for shame they preach at all, it must bee rarely and easily, for breaking of their winde (my meaning is not to tax such, whom God disinables by weaknesse of body; or such as recompence their rarity with industry, as _Perkins_, &c.) and yet forsooth these thinke they may justly challenge, and weare the double honor of countenance and maintenance; I marvell with what right, or with what face, so long as there remaineth expresse Canon of Scripture, bequeathing it to those, that toyle in word and doctrine. Neither will zeale set us on worke onely to preach, or to preach often to avoyd the infamy of bare readers; but it will teach us to preach painefully, and that in the evidence and demonstration, not so much of art, or nature, as of the spirit and grace; regarding onely, that the people know Christ and him crucified; not caring whether they know what wee have read, how many quotations our memory will carry levell, how roundly wee can utter our minde in new minted words, in like sounding, idle, vaine, and offensive _Paranomasies_; I blush to fall into the least touch of that kinde: yet at once to shew and reproove that childish folly, It is a vaine of vaine preaching, turning sound preaching into a sound of preaching, tickling mens eares, like a tinckling cymball, feeding them, [Greek: hêdusmati kai ouk edesmasi], spoyling the plaine song, with descant and division: what is this but to shew our owne levitie and want of true Art; indeede affecting such a dancing, piperly and effeminate eloquence (as _Tully, Demosthenes_, or any Masculine Oratour would scorne) in steade of that divine powerfull deliverie, which becommeth him, that speakes the Oracles of God. If ever wee meane to doe any good, wee must exhort and reproove, with all vehemency and authority; lifting upp our voyce as a trumpet, as the sonnes of thunder; pearcing their eares, witnessing, striving and contending, according to our gift whatsoever it bee, to manifest our affections, that wee may worke upon the people; which all the Art in the world will not teach us to doe: onely zeale at the heart will naturally produce it, without straining or affecting. If God require the heart as well as the head; why should wee not labour to moove the affections, as well as enforme the judgement; There is a doctrinall, and as some tearme it, a Doctorly kinde of preaching, which is admired of some that understand it not; of others that could be content with the Masse againe, because it was gentle, and had no teeth in it. And such Sermons I have sometimes heard, for matter voyd of exception, but so delivered, as if one were acting a part, or saying a lesson by heart. It hath called to minde a song which sometimes I have met withall, excellently composed, full of sweet ayre, surely and truely sung; but with flat and dead voyces without spirit, which hath marred the musique: Of such a Sermon and Preacher, the Countreymans verdict did well, that said, this man may bee a great scholler, but hee wants beetle and wedges to heaw our knotted timber withall, our greene wood will not burn unlesse it be better blown; you shall sometimes see an excellent horse of shape and colour, having many of those markes _Du Bartes_ describes in _Caines_ supposed horse; which yet wanting mettle hath beene of little worth, and lesse use. If there were no other Preachers then these, which hold themselves the onely profound and learned Preachers, I muse what should become of conversion of soules, which they that covet; must come with the spirit of _Elias_, to turne the hearts of the fathers to their children, I may in truth, and I hope with modesty speake with the Preacher, that in observing I have observed, and have found, that divers great Clarkes have had but little fruit of their ministery; but hardly any truely zealous man of God (though of lesser gifts) but have had much comfort of their labours, in their owne and bordering parishes, being in this likened by _Gregorie_, to the yron on the Smiths anvile sparkling round about. And if for this any bordering neighbours, whose cold labours worke not the like successe, shall accuse them of some kinde (I know not what) of policie in bewitching the people; they may well reply, Behold our zealous affections are our charmes, and zeale all our witchcraft, as _Latimer_ well answered one that accused the people of partiality, for not affecting him that preached one of his printed Sermons, that hee had indeede his Sticke, but wanted his Rosen; meaning his zealous manner of preaching and living, without which last, all the former will doe but little good, if a good ensample of life accompany not their doctrine, as lightning doth thunder. For there are some (I speake with sorrow of heart) that seeme to have fire in their preaching, but carry water in their life; being notoriously proud, covetous, or debauched, stained with odious vices. Let us heare the summ of all. Doe wee love Christ more then ordinary? would wee give proofe of our trebble love to him? Let us then feede his flocke with a trebble zeale, expressed in our prayer, preaching and living: Let us make it appeare to the consciences of all, that the top of our ambition is Gods glory: and that wee preferr the winning of soules, to the winning of the world. This title of Angels why may it not also be extended to Magistrates, as well as that higher stile, of Gods; Sure I am, that the scarlet robe of zeale would exceeding well become them. _Jethro_ maketh it their prime and essentiall character; God and _Moses_, their onely and sole, in the charge and commission to _Jehoshuah_ so oft repeated; _Onely be of good courage_. And if _David_ were now to re-pen his Psalme; I thinke hee might alter the forme of his counsell, and say, _Bee zealous yee Rulers and Judges of the world_, and not wise and politique: or rather under the tearmes of wisdome, hee comprehends indeede the zeale wee call for, the most now adayes being _Gallio's_, wise onely for the matters of the Commonwealth; not having a sparke of that spirit which was in _Phineas, Daniel_, and _Nehemias_, &c. for the Lord of hosts, or to his Lawes and Commandements; as if God had made Magistrates keepers onely of the second Table, governours of men, and not of Christians; guardians onely of civill societies, and not of his Church, and shepheards also of his flocke. Are Idolatries, blasphemies, prophaning of Saboths, no sinns? Why then either have not the lawes force and strength enough in them (as sometime wee are answered when wee complaine) or why are they not executed for the suppressing of these raging sins? are not all they punished with death in the Scriptures, as well as breaches of the second table? Blood I leave to the malignant Church, and admire clemency in Rulers, as much as any; but yet I know the prophane dissolutenesse of the times, requires a three stringed whipp of severity to purge our _Augean_ stable of the soule abuses, whipt often with penns and tongues, but spared by them that beare the sword (a man may say of many Governours) altogether in vaine for matters of religion. Are not kings of the earth charg'd to render double to the bloody strumpet of Rome? Why then doth the hurtfull pitty of our times imbolden and increase their numbers? _Laodicea_ it selfe, I doubt not, for matters of mine and thine, had (as their name imports) good civill justice and justicers; but what was God the neerer for it? doth hee not threaten for all that to spue them out of his mouth? shall hee not curse those that doe his worke negligently, fearfully & partially? Our times complaine of two speciall canker wormes of justice, which eat up zeale in Magistrates. The first is _Covetousnesse_, which makes men of place to transgresse for a morsell of bread; the zeale of their owne houses consumes the zeale of Gods house: The building of great houses, keeping of great houses, and matching with great houses, raising and leaving of great houses behinde them, makes them so ravenous, that they devoure so much, as choakes all their zeale; which would teach them to shake their laps of bribes, and scorne to accept gifts, though men would augment them for the perverting of judgement. The other is _Cowardice_ and _Fearfulnes_: which how unfit, and base a quality did _Nehemiah_ thinke it for a man of his place? no better then shynesse in a fore-horse, whose eyes men fence on both sides, that they may lead the way, and goe without starting; unto which, zeale is answerable in Magistrates, causing them onely to see him that is invisible, without casting a squint eye at men; to sing to God onely of judgement and mercy, without tuning their songs to mans eare; to walke in the perfect way, without turning, either to the right or left hand for feare of favour. Oh that there were such an heart in our leaders; how easily would our people follow! what a spring tide of zeale should wee have, if the Sunne and Moone would cast out a benigne aspect upon them! Doth it not flourish in all those shires and townes, where the Word and Sword doe joyntly cherish it? In others which are the greatest number, how doth it languish and wane away, and hang downe the head? where is it in diverse places of the land to bee seene? I had almost sayd in my haste and heat, there is none that hath zeale, no not one, there is no courage for the truth; but that I remember that _Eliah_ was checked for over-shooting himselfe in his too short and quicke computation. I hope the Lord hath his fifties amongst us, though but thinn sowne in comparison of the swarmes of professed Recusants, and Church-Papists, of prophane Atheists, key-cold worldlings, and lukewarme professors. The bodies of our many severall Congregations, yea even of the better sort, whereunto have they beene likened by our separated adversaries; but unto the Prophet _Hosea_ his cake, halfe baked upon the hearth, having one side, that is, the one side to the world-ward, in publique service, scorched a little and browned over; but the inside to God-ward, in private, and family-duties, no better then dough; many of them making indeede some shew, as the out-landish fruits that are plashed upon our walls, but wanting heat never come to maturity. If wee should make good their resemblances, how then should wee please the stomacke of God? who hath indeede brooked and borne us a long time, I doubt but wamblingly. How neare were wee going in 88. and in the powder treason? Doe we thinke he will ever digest us, in the temper wee are in? which (to confesse the truth of the fashionable Christian) what is it but a state of neutrality, indifferency, or such a mediocrity, as will just serve the time, satisfie Law, or stand with reputation of neighbours? beyond which, if any step a little forward, do not the rest hunt upon the stop? If there hap to breake out a sparkle of zeale in any one house in a parish; is not the whole towne in an uprore, as when the bells ring awke every man brings his bucket, to the quenching of this fire? If hell bee in an Ale-house, who cryes out of it? & as for our Sundayes Church-service, which is all that God gets at our hands; how perfunctorily, and fashionably is it slubbered over; how are his Saboths made the voyder and dung-hill for all refuse businesse, divided betweene the Church and the Ale-house, the May-pole commonly beguiling the Pulpit? What man would not spue to see God thus worshipped? This want of devotion makes the foule mouthed Papists to spet at us: this want of reformation, makes the queasie-stomacked Brownists cast themselves out of the Church; and shall God alwayes suffer the land to beare us? But behold, he stands at the door & knocks, by treasons, by plagues, by the hammer of dearths, discontents, fires, inundations, especially by the word; his locks are wet with waiting. Oh before hee shake off the dust of his feet against us, and turne to some other nation more worthy, let us open the doore, that hee may come in and sup with us; if hee love us, hee will purge us, and scoure us, by one chastizement or other: if hee have no pleasure in us, hee cannot but unburthen his stomacke of us; If all the land besides should turne the deafe eare, yet let mee entreat and charge you of my flock to heare his voyce, & be zealous. Since my comming amongst you, I have handled some bookes of the olde Testament, the Epistles to the Romanes, to the Hebrewes, of Saint _James_, _Peter_ and _John_, out of them taught the doctrine of the Law, of Faith, Love and good Workes: now in the choyce of this Epistle of Christ to _Laodicea_, my desire was to boyle up the former to their just temper: in which worke I can willingly bee content to spend my strength, and dayes, if God see it fit. I cannot be a better sacrifice then to God, and for you, if I waste my selfe, so you may have light & heat; what else is the end of my life? God hath given you a name, your zeale is gone abroad, & I hope you have many names among you; the Lord encrease their number and zeale. If but one of us this day, shall open this doore of his heart with _Jehoshuah_, let others chuse, I and my house will serve the Lord more zealously then heeretofore; neither I nor hee shall have lost our labours. A lively picture casts the eye upon every one that comes neere it: such is the word with whom, and with which we have to do; Let him that is now colde, grow colder & colder; but let him that hath an eare, heare what hath beene sayd to the Churches; and be zealous and amend. The Lord give us not onely understanding, but zeale in all things: he baptize us with fire: hee breath on us, and inspire into us the spirit of life & power, &c. So shall wee runn the wayes of his commandements. FINIS. 
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11536	----	Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk TOWN AND COUNTRY SERMONS SERMON I. HOW TO KEEP PASSION WEEK (Preached before the Queen.) Philippians ii. 5-11. Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name: that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. This the first day of Passion Week; and this text is the key-note of Passion Week. It tells us of the obedience of Christ; of the unselfishness of Christ; and, therefore, of the true glory of Christ. It tells us of One who was in the form of God; the Co-equal and Co- eternal Son; the brightness of his Father's glory, the express image of his Father's person: but who showed forth his Father's glory, and proved that he was the express likeness of his Father's character, by the very opposite means to those which man takes, when he wishes to show forth his own glory. He was in the form of God. But he did not (so the text seems to mean) think that the bliss of God was a thing to be seized on greedily for himself. He did not think fit merely to glorify himself; to enjoy himself. He was not like the false gods of whom the heathen dreamed, who sat aloft in heaven and enjoyed themselves, careless of mankind. No. He obeyed his Father utterly, and at all costs. He emptied himself (says St. Paul). He took on him the form of a slave. He humbled himself. He became obedient; obedient to death; and that death the shameful and dreadful death of the cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him; has declared him to be perfectly good, worthy of all praise, honour, glory, power, and dominion; and has given him a name above all names, the name of Jesus--Saviour. One who saved others, and cared not to save himself. And therefore, too, God has given him that dominion of which he is worthy, and has proclaimed him Lord and Creator of all beings and all worlds, past, present, and to come. It is of him; of his obedience; of his unselfishness, that Passion Week speaks to us. It tell us of the mind of Christ, and says, 'Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.' How, then, shall we keep his Passion Week? There are several ways of keeping it, and all more or less good. Wisdom is justified of all her children. But no way will be safe for us, unless we keep in mind the mind of Christ--obedience and self-sacrifice. Some, for instance, are careful this week to attend church as often as possible; and who will blame them? But unless they keep in mind the mind of Christ, they are apt to fall into the mistake of using vain repetitions, as the heathen do; and of fancying, like them, that they shall be heard for their much speaking, forgetting their Father in heaven knows what they have need of, before they ask him. And that is not like the mind of Christ. It is not like the mind of Christ to fancy that God dwells in temples made with hands; or that he can be worshipped with men's hands, as though he needed anything; seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all things. For in him we live, and move, and have our being; and (as even the heathen poet knew), are the offspring, the children, of God. It is _not_ according to the mind of Christ, to worship God as the heathen do, in order to win him to do our will. It _is_ according to the mind of Christ to worship God, in order that we may do his will; to believe that God's will is a good will, good in itself, and good for us, and for all things and beings; and, therefore, to ask for strength to do God's will, whatever it may cost us. That is the mind of Christ, who came not to do his own will, but the will of him who sent him; who taught us to pray, as the greatest blessing for which we can ask, 'Father, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven;' who himself, in his utter agony, cried, 'Father, not my will, but thine, be done.' Therefore, it is good to go to church; and good, for some at least, to go as often as possible: but only if we remember why we go, and whom we go to worship--a Father, who asks of us to worship him in spirit and in truth. A Father who has told us what that worship is like. 'Is this (God asked the Jews of old) the fast which I have chosen? Is it a day for a man to afflict his soul, and bow down his head like a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him (playing at being sad, while God has not made him sad)? Wilt thou call this a fast, and an acceptable day to the Lord?' 'Is not this the fast which I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and to bring the poor that are cast out to thine house; when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him, and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh.' This is that pure worship and undefined before God and the Father, of which St. James tells us; and says that it consists in this--'to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction; and to keep ourselves unspotted from the world.' In a word, this worship in the spirit, and in truth, is nought else but the mind of Christ. To believe in, to adore the Father's perfect goodness; to long and try to copy that goodness here on earth. That is what Christ did utterly and perfectly, that is what we have to do, each according to our powers; and without it, without the spirit of obedience, all our church-going is of little worth in the eyes of our heavenly Father. Others, again, go into retirement for this week, and spend it in examining themselves, and thinking over the sufferings of Christ. And who, again, will blame them, provided they do not neglect their daily duty meanwhile? But they, too, need to keep in mind the mind of Christ, if they mean to keep Passion Week aright. They need it, indeed. And such a man, before he shuts himself up, and begins to examine himself, would do well _to examine himself as to why he is going to examine himself_, and to ask, Why am I going to do this? Because it is my interest? Because I think I shall gain more safety for my soul? Because I hope it will give me more chance of pleasure and glory in the next world? But, if so; have I the mind of Christ? For he did _not_ think of his own interest, his own gain, his own pleasure, his own glory. How is this, then? I confess that the root of all my faults is selfishness. Shall I examine into my own selfishness for a selfish end--to get safety and pleasure by it hereafter? I confess that the very glory of Christ is, that there is no selfishness in him. Shall I think over the sufferings of the unselfish Christ for a selfish end--to get something by it after I die? I am too apt already to make myself the centre, round which all the world must turn: to care for everything only as far as it does _me_ good or harm. Shall I make myself the centre round which heaven is to turn? Shall I think of God and of Christ only as far as it will profit _me_? And this week, too, of all weeks in the year? God forgive me! Into what a contradiction I am running unawares! No. If I do shut myself up from my fellowmen, it shall be only to think how I may do my duty better to my fellowmen. If I do think over Christ's sufferings, it shall be only that I may learn from him how to suffer, if need be, at the call of duty; at least, to stir up in me obedience, usefulness, generosity, that I may go back to my work cheerfully, willingly, careless what reward I get, provided only I can do good in my station. But, after all, will not the text tell us best how to keep Passion Week? Will not our Lord's own example tell us? Can we go wrong, if we keep our Passion Week as Christ kept his? And how did he keep it? Certainly not by shutting himself up apart. Certainly not by mere thinking over the glory of self-sacrifice. He taught daily, we read, in the temple. Instead of giving up his work for a while, he seems to have worked more earnestly than ever. As the terrible end drew near; and his soul was troubled; and he was straitened as he looked forward to his baptism of fire; and the struggle in him grew fiercer (for the Bible tells us that there was a struggle) between the Man's natural desire to save his life, and the God's heavenly desire to lay down his life, he threw himself more and more into the work which he had to do. We hear more, perhaps, of our Lord's saying and doings during this week, up to the very moment before he was betrayed to death, than we do of the whole three years of his public life. His teaching was never, it seems, so continual; his appeals to the nation which he was trying to save were never so pathetic as at the very last; his warnings to the bigots who were destroying his nation never so terrible; his contempt for personal danger never so clear. The Bible seems to picture him to us as gathering up all his strength for one last effort, if by any means he might save that doomed city of Jerusalem, and in his divine spirit, courting death the more, the more his human flesh shrank from it. This--the pattern of perfect obedience, perfect unselfishness, perfect generosity, perfect self-sacrificing love--is what we are to look at in Passion Week. This, I believe, is what we are meant to copy in Passion Week; that we may learn the habit of copying it all our lives long. Why should not we, then, keep Passion Week somewhat as our Lord kept it before us? Not by merely hiding in our closets to meditate, even about _him_: but by going about our work, each in his place, dutifully, bravely, as he went? By doing the duty which lies nearest us, and trying to draw our lesson out of it. Thus we may keep Passion Week in spirit and in truth; though some of us may hardly have time to enter a church, hardly have time for an hour's private thought about religion. Amid the bustle of daily duties; amid the buzz of petty cares; amid the anxieties of great labours; amid the roar of the busy world, which cannot stop (and which ought not to stop), for our convenience; we may keep Passion Week in spirit and in truth, if we will do the duty which lies nearest us, and try to draw our lesson out of it. For practice--and, I believe, practice alone--will teach us to restrain ourselves, and conquer ourselves. Experience--and, I believe, experience alone--will show us our own faults and weaknesses. Every man--every human spirit on God's earth has spiritual enemies-- habits and principles within him--if not other spirits without him, which hinder him, more or less, from being all that God meant him to be. And we must find out those enemies, and measure their strength, not merely by reading of them in books; not merely by fancying them in our own minds; but by the hard blows, and sudden falls, which they too often give us in the actual battle of daily life. And how can we find them out? This at least we can do. We can ask ourselves at every turn,--For what end am I doing this, and this? For what end am I living at all? For myself, or for others? Am I living for ambition? for fame? for show? for money? for pleasure? If so, I have not the mind of Christ. I have not found out the golden secret. I have not seen what true glory is; what the glory of Christ is--to live for the sake of doing my duty--for the sake of doing good. And am I--I surely shall be if I am living for myself--straggling, envying, casting an evil eye on those more fortunate than I; perhaps letting loose against them a cruel tongue? If I am doing thus, God forgive me. What have I of the mind of Christ? What likeness between me and him who emptied himself of self, who humbled himself, gave himself up utterly, even to death? Is this the mind of Christ? Is this the spirit whose name is Love? And yet there should be a likeness. A likeness between Christ and us. A likeness between God and us. For Christ is the likeness of his Father; and not only of his Father, but of our Father, The Father in heaven. And what should a child be, but like his father? What should man be, but like God? But how shall we get that likeness? How shall we get the mind of Christ which is the Spirit of God? This at least we know. That the father will surely hear the child, when the child cries to him. Perhaps will hear him all the more tenderly, the more utterly the child has strayed away. Our highest reason, the instincts of our own hearts, tell us so. Christ himself has told us so; and said to the Jews of old: 'If ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask _him_?' Shall give? Yes; and has given already. From that Spirit of God have come, and will always come, all our purest, highest, best thoughts and feelings. From him comes all which raises us above the animals, and makes us really and truly men and women. All sense of duty, obedience, order, justice, law; all tenderness, pity, generosity, honour, modesty; all this, if you will receive it, is that Christ in us of whom St. Paul tells us, and tells us that he is our hope of glory. Yes, these feelings in us, which, just as far as we obey them, make us respect ourselves, and make us blessings to our fellow-men; what are they but the Spirit of Christ, the likeness of Christ, the mind of Christ in us; the hope of our glory; because, if we obey them, we shall attain to something of the true glory, the glory with which Christ himself is glorious. Then let us pray to God, now in this Passion Week, to stir up in us that generous spirit; to deepen in us that fair likeness; to fill us with that noble mind. Let us ask God to quench in us all which is selfish, idle, mean; to quicken to life in us all which is godlike, and from God; that so we may attain, at last, to the true glory, the glory which comes not from selfish ambition; not from selfish pride; not from selfish ease; but from getting rid of selfishness, in all its shapes. The glory which Christ alone has in perfection. The glory before which every knee will one day bow, whether in earth or heaven. Even the glory of doing our duty, regardless of what it costs us in the station to which each of us has been called by his Father in heaven. Amen. SERMON II. THE DIVINE HUNGER AND THIRST (Preached before the Queen.) Psalm xxxvi. 7, 8, 9. How excellent is thy loving-kindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of thy wings. They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of thy house; and thou shalt make them drink of the river of thy pleasures. For with thee is the fountain of life: in thy light shall we see light. This is a great saying. So great that we shall never know, certainly never in this life, how much it means. It speaks of being satisfied; of what alone can satisfy a man. It speaks of man as a creature who is, or rather ought to be, always hungering and thirsting after something better than he has, as it is written: 'Blessed are they which hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled.' So says David, also, in this Psalm. I say man ought to be always hungering and thirsting for something better. I do not mean by that that he ought to be discontented. Nothing less. For just in as far as a man hungers and thirsts after righteousness and truth, he will hunger and thirst after nothing else. As long as a man does not care for righteousness, does not care to be a better man himself, and to see the world better round him, so long will he go longing after this fine thing and that, tormenting himself with lusts and passions, greediness and covetousness of divers sorts; and little satisfaction will he get from them. But, when he begins to hunger and thirst after righteousness, that heavenly and spiritual hunger destroys the old carnal hunger in him. He cares less and less to ask, What shall I eat and drink, wherewithal shall I be clothed?--Or how shall I win for myself admiration, station, and all the fine things of this world?--What he thinks of more and more is,--How can I become better and more righteous? How can I make my neighbours better likewise? How the world? As for the good things of this life, if they will make me a better man, let them come. If not, why should I care so much about them? What I want is, to be righteous like God, beneficent and good-doing like God. That is the man of whom it is written, that he shall be satisfied with the plenteousness of God's house, God's kingdom; for with God is the fountain of life. Again, as long as a man has no hunger and thirst after truth, he is easily enough interested, though he is not satisfied. He reads, perhaps, and amuses his fancy, but he does no more. He reads again, really to instruct his mind, and learns about this and that: but he does not learn the causes of things; the reasons of the chances and changes of this world; and so he is not satisfied; he takes up doctrines, true ones, perhaps, at secondhand out of books and out of sermons:, without having had any personal experience of them; and so, when sickness or sorrow, doubt or dread, come, they do not satisfy him. Then he longs--he ought at least to long--for truth. He thirsts for truth. O that I could know the truth about myself; about my fellow-creatures; about this world. What am I really? What are they? Where am I? What can I know? What ought I to do? I do not want secondhand names and notions. I want to be sure. That is the divine thirst after truth, which will surely be satisfied. He will drink of the pleasure of true knowledge, as out of an overflowing river; and the more he knows, the more he will be glad to know, and the more he will find he can know, if only he loves truth for truth's own sake; for, as it is written, in God's light shall that man see light. With God is the well of life; and in his light we shall see light. The first is the answer to man's hunger after righteousness, the second answers to his thirst after truth. With God is the well of life. There is the answer. Thou wishest to be a good man; to live a good life; to live as a good son, good husband, good father, good in all the relations of humanity; as it is written, 'And Noah was a just man, and perfect in his generations; and Noah walked with God.' Then do thou walk with God. For in him is the life thou wishest for. He alone can quicken thee, and give thee spirit and power to fulfil thy duty in thy generation. Is not his Spirit the Lord and Giver of life--the only fount and eternal spring of life? From him life flows out unto the smallest blade of grass beneath thy feet, the smallest gnat which dances in the sun, that it may live the life which God intends for it. How much more to thee, who hast an altogether boundless power of life; whom God has made in his own likeness, that thou mayest be called his son, and live his life, and do, as Christ did, what thou seest thy heavenly Father do. Thou feelest, perhaps, how poor and paltry thine own life is, compared with what it might have been. Thou feelest that thou hast never done thy best. When the world is praising thee most, thou art most ashamed of thyself. Thou art ready to cry all day long, 'I have left undone that which I ought to have done;' till, at times, thou longest that all was over, and thou wert beginning again in some freer, fuller, nobler, holier life, to do and to be what thou hast never done nor been here; and criest with the poet-- 'Tis life, whereof my nerves are scant; 'Tis life, not death, for which I pant; More life, and fuller, that I want. Then have patience. With God is the fount of life. He will refresh and strengthen thee; and raise thee up day by day to that new life for which thou longest. Is not Holy communion his own pledge that he will do so? Is not that God's own sign to thee, that though thou canst not feed and strengthen thine own soul, he can and will feed and strengthen it; and feed it--mystery of mysteries--with himself; that God may dwell in thee, and thou in God. And if God and Christ live in thee, and work in thee to will and to do of their own good pleasure, that shall be enough for thee, and thou shall be satisfied. And just so, again, with that same thirst after truth. That, too, can only be satisfied by God, and in God. Not by the reading of books, however true; not by listening to sermons, however clever; can we see light: but only in the light of God. Know God. Know that he is justice itself, order itself, love itself, patience itself, pity itself. In the light of that, all things will become light and bright to thee. Matters which seemed to have nothing to do with God, the thought of God will explain to thee, if thou thinkest aright concerning God; and the true knowledge of him will be the key to all other true knowledge in heaven and earth. For the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and a good understanding have all they that do thereafter. Must it not be so? How can it be otherwise? For in God all live and move and have their being; and all things which he has made are rays from off his glory, and patterns of his perfect mind. As the Maker is, so is his work; if, therefore, thou wouldest judge rightly of the work, acquaint thyself with the Maker of it, and know first, and know for ever, that his name is Love. Thus, sooner or later, in God the Father's good time, will thy thirst for truth be satisfied, and thou shalt see the light of God. He may keep thee long waiting for full truth. He may send thee by strange and crooked paths. He may exercise and strain thy reason by doubts, mistakes, and failures; but sooner or later, if thou dost not faint and grow weary, he will show to thee the thing which thou knewest not; for he is thy Father, and wills that all his children, each according to their powers, should share not only in his goodness, but in his wisdom also. Do any of you say, 'These are words too deep for us; they are for learned people, clever, great saints?' I think not. I have seen poor people, ignorant people, sick people, poor old souls on parish pay, satisfied with the plenteousness of God's house, and drinking so freely of God's pleasure, that they knew no thirst, fretted not, never were discontented. All vain longings after this and that were gone from their hearts. They had very little; but it seemed to be enough. They had nothing indeed, which we could call pleasure in this world; but somehow what they had satisfied them, because it came from God. They had a hidden pleasure, joy, content, and peace. They had found out that with God was the well of life; that in God they lived and moved, and had their being. And as long as their souls lived in God, full of the eternal life and goodness, obeying his laws, loving the thing which he commanded, and desiring what he promised, they could trust him for their poor worn-out dying bodies, that he would not let them perish, but raise them up again at the last day. They knew very little; but what they did know was full of light. Cheerful and hopeful they were always; for they saw all things in the light of God. They knew that God was light, and God was love; that his love was shining down on them and on all around them, warming, cheering, quickening into life all things which he had made; so that when the world should have looked most dark to them, it looked most bright, because they saw it lightened up by the smile of their Father in heaven. O may God bring us all to such an old age, that, as our mortal bodies decay, our souls may be renewed day by day; that as the life of our bodies grows cold and feeble, the life of our souls may grow richer, warmer, stronger, more useful to all around us, for ever and ever; that as the light of this life fades, the light of our souls may grow brighter, fuller, deeper; till all is clear to us in the everlasting light of God, in that perfect day for which St. Paul thirsted through so many weary years; when he should no more see through a glass darkly, or prophesy in part, and talk as a child, but see face to face, and know even as he was known. SERMON III. THE TRANSFIGURATION (Preached before the Queen.) Matthew xvii. 2 and 9. And he was transfigured before them. . . . And he charged them, saying, Tell the vision to no man, until the Son of Man be risen again from the dead. Any one who will consider the gospels, will see that there is a peculiar calm, a soberness and modesty about them, very different from what we should have expected to find in them. Speaking, as they do, of the grandest person who ever trod this earth, of the grandest events which ever happened upon this earth--of the events, indeed, which settled the future of this earth for ever,--one would not be surprised at their using grand words--the grandest they could find. If they had gone off into beautiful poetry; if they had filled pages with words of astonishment, admiration, delight; if they had told us their own thoughts and feelings at the sight of our Lord; if they had given us long and full descriptions of our Lord's face and figure, even (as forged documents have pretended to do) to the very colour of his hair, we should have thought it but natural. But there is nothing of the kind in either of the four gospels, even when speaking of the most awful matters. Their words are as quiet and simple and modest as if they were written of things which might be seen every day. When they tell of our Lord's crucifixion, for instance, how easy, natural, harmless, right, as far as we can see, it would have been to have poured out their own feelings about the most pitiable and shameful crime ever committed upon earth; to have spoken out all their own pity, terror, grief, indignation; and to have stirred up ours thereby. And yet all they say is,--'And they crucified him.' They feel that is enough. The deed is too dark to talk about. Let it tell its own story to all human hearts. So with this account of the Lord's transfiguration. 'And he took Peter, and James, and John, his brother, up into a high mountain, apart, and was transfigured before them; and his face did shine as the sun; and his raiment was white as the light; . . . and while he yet spake a bright cloud overshadowed them; and, behold, a voice out of the cloud, which said: This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. Hear ye him.' How soberly, simply, modestly, they tell this strange story. How differently they might have told it. A man might write whole poems, whole books of philosophy, about that transfiguration, and yet never reach the full depth of its beauty and of its meaning. But the evangelists do not even try to do that. As with the crucifixion, as with all the most wonderful passages of our Lord's life, they simply say what happened, and let the story bring its own message home to our hearts. What may we suppose is the reason of this great stillness and soberness of the gospels? I believe that it may be explained thus. The men who wrote them were too much _awed_ by our Lord, to make more words about him than they absolutely needed. Our Lord was too utterly _beyond_ them. They felt that they could not understand him; could not give a worthy picture of him. He was too noble, too awful, in spite of all his tenderness, for any words of theirs, however fine. We all know that the holiest things, the deepest feelings, the most beautiful sights, are those about which we talk least, and least like to hear others talk. Putting them into words seems impertinent, profane. No one needs to gild gold, or paint the lily. When we see a glorious sunset; when we hear the rolling of the thunder-storm; we do not _talk_ about them; we do not begin to cry, How awful, how magnificent; we admire them in silence, and let them tell their own story. Who that ever truly loved his wife talked about his love to her? Who that ever came to Holy Communion in spirit and in truth, tried to put into words what he felt as he knelt before Christ's altar? When God speaks, man had best keep silence. So it was, I suppose, with the writers of the gospels. They had been in too grand company for them to speak freely of what they felt there. They had seen such sights, and heard such words, that they were inclined to be silent, and think over it all, and only wrote because they must write. They felt that our Lord, as I say, was utterly beyond them, too unlike any one whom they had ever met before; too perfect, too noble, for them to talk about him. So they simply set down his words as he spoke them, and his works as he did them, as far as they could recollect, and left them to tell their own story. Even St. John, who was our Lord's beloved friend, who seems to have caught and copied exactly his way of speaking, seems to feel that there was infinitely more in our Lord than he could put into words, and ends with confessing,--'And there are also many more things which Jesus did, the which if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written.' The first reason then, I suppose, for the evangelists' modesty, was their awe and astonishment at our Lord. The next, I think, may have been that they wished to copy him, and so to please him. It surely must have been so, if, as all good Christians believe, they were inspired to write our Lord's life. The Lord would inspire them to write as he would like his life to be written, as he would have written it (if it be reverent to speak of such a thing) himself. They were inspired by Christ's Spirit; and, therefore, they wrote according to the Spirit of Christ, soberly, humbly, modestly, copying the character of Christ. Think upon that word _modestly_. I am not sure that it is the best; I only know that it is the best which I can find, to express one excellence which we see in our Lord, which is like what we call modesty in common human beings. We all know how beautiful and noble modesty is; how we all admire it; how it raises a man in our eyes to see him afraid of boasting; never showing off; never requiring people to admire him; never pushing himself forward; or, if his business forces him to go into public, not going for the sake of display, but simply because the thing has to be done; and then quietly withdrawing himself when the thing is done, content that none should be staring at him or thinking of him. This is modesty; and we admire it not only in young people, or those who have little cause to be proud: we admire it much more in the greatest, the wisest, and the best; in those who have, humanly speaking, most cause to be proud. Whenever, on the other hand, we see in wise and good men any vanity, boasting, pompousness of any kind, we call it a weakness in them, and are sorry to see them lowering themselves by the least want of divine modesty. Now, this great grace and noble virtue should surely be in our Lord, from whom all graces and virtues come; and I think we need not look far through the gospels to find it. See how he refused to cast himself down from the temple, and make himself a sign and a wonder to the Jews. How he refused to show the Pharisees a sign. How, in this very text, when it seemed good to him to show his glory, he takes only three favourite apostles, and commands them to tell no man till he be risen again. See, again, how when the Jews wanted to take him by force, and make him a king, he escaped out of their hands. How when He had been preaching to, or healing the multitude, so that they crowded on him, and became excited about him, he more than once immediately left them, and retired into a desert place to pray. See, again, how when he did tell the Jews who he was, in words most awfully unmistakeable, the confession was, as it were, drawn from him, at the end of a long argument, when he was forced to speak out for truth's sake. And, even then, how simple, how modest (if I dare so speak), are his words. 'Before Abraham was, I am.' The most awful words ever spoken on earth; and yet most divine in their very simplicity. The Maker of the world telling his creatures that he is their God! What might he _not_ have said at such a moment? What might we not fancy his saying? What words, grand enough, awful enough, might not the evangelists have put into his mouth, if they had not been men full of the spirit of truth? And yet what does the Lord say? 'Before Abraham was, I am.' Could he say more? If you think of the matter, No. But could he say less? If you think of the manner, No, likewise. Truly, 'never man spake as he spake:' because never man was like him. Perfect strength, wisdom, determination, endurance; and yet perfect meekness, simplicity, sobriety. Zeal and modesty. They are the last two virtues which go together most seldom. In him they went together utterly; and were one, as he was one in spirit. Him some of the evangelists saw, and by him all were inspired; and, therefore, they toned their account of him to his likeness, and, as it were, took their key-note from him, and made the very manner and language of their gospels a pattern of his manners and his life. And, if we wanted a fresh proof (as, thank God, needs not) that the gospels are true, I think we might find it in this. For when a man is inventing a wonderful story out of his own head, he is certain to dress it up in fine words, fancies, shrewd reflections of his own, in order to make people see, as he goes on, how wonderful it all is. Whereas, no books on earth which describe wonderful events, true or false, are so sober and simple as the gospels, which describe the most wonderful of all events. And this is to me a plain proof (as I hope it will be to you) that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John were not inventing but telling a plain and true story, and dared not alter it in the least; and, again, a story so strange and beautiful, that they dared not try to make it more strange, or more beautiful, by any words of their own. They had seen a person, to describe whom passed all their powers of thought and memory, much more their power of words. A person of whom even St. Paul could only say, 'that he was the brightness of his Father's glory, and the express image of his person.' Words in which to write of him failed them; for no words could suffice. But the temper of mind in which to write of him did not fail them; for, by gazing on the face of the Lord, they had been changed, more or less, into the likeness of his glory; into that temper, simplicity, sobriety, gentleness, modesty, which shone forth in him, and shines forth still in their immortal words about him. God grant that it may shine forth in us. God grant it truly. May we read their words till their spirit passes into us. May we (as St. Paul expresses it) looking on the face of the Lord, as into a glass, be changed into his likeness, from glory to glory. May he who inspired them to write, inspire us to think and work, like our Lord, soberly, quietly, simply. May God take out of us all pride and vanity, boasting and forwardness; and give us the true courage which shows itself by gentleness; the true wisdom which show itself by simplicity; and the true power which show itself by modesty. Amen. SERMON IV. A SOLDIER'S TRAINING Luke vii. 2-9. And a certain centurion's servant, who was dear unto him, was sick, and ready to die. And when he heard of Jesus, he sent unto him the elders of the Jews, beseeching him that he would come and heal his servant. And when they came to Jesus, they besought him instantly, saying, That he was worthy for whom he should do this: For he loveth our nation, and he hath built us a synagogue. Then Jesus went with them. And when he was now not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to him, saying unto him, Lord, trouble not thyself; for I am not worthy that thou shouldest enter under my roof: Wherefore neither thought I myself worthy to come unto thee: but say in a word, and my servant shall be healed. For I also am a man set under authority, having under me soldiers, and I say unto one, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh; and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it. When Jesus heard these things he marvelled at him, and turned him about, and said unto the people that followed him, I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel. There is something puzzling in this speech of the centurion's. One must think twice, and more than twice, to understand clearly what he had in his mind. _I_, indeed, am not quite sure that I altogether understand it. But I may, perhaps, help you to understand it, by telling you what this centurion was. He was not a Jew. He was a Roman, and a heathen; a man of our race, very likely. And he was a centurion, a captain in the army; and one, mind, who had risen from the ranks, by good conduct, and good service. Before he got his vine-stock, which was the mark of his authority over a hundred men, he had, no doubt, marched many a weary mile under a heavy load, and fought, probably, many a bloody battle in foreign parts. That had been his education, his training, namely, discipline, and hard work. And because he had learned to obey, he was fit to rule. He was helping now to keep in order those treacherous, unruly Jews, and their worthless puppet-kings, like Herod; much as our soldiers in India are keeping in order the Hindoos, and their worthless puppet-kings. Whether the Romans had any _right_ to conquer and keep down the Jews as they did, is no concern of ours just now. But we have proof that what this centurion did, he did wisely and kindly. The elders of the Jews said of him, that he loved the Jews, and had built them a synagogue, a church. I suppose that what he had heard from them about a one living God, who had made all things in heaven and earth, and given them a law, which cannot be broken, so that all things obey him to this day--I suppose, I say, that this pleased him better than the Roman stories of many gods, who were capricious, and fretful, and quarrelled with each other in a fashion which ought to have been shocking to the conscience and reason of a disciplined soldier. There was a great deal, besides, in the Old Testament, which would, surely, come home to a soldier's heart, when it told him of a God of law, and order, and justice, and might, who defended the right in battle, and inspired the old Jews to conquer the heathen, and to fight for their own liberty. For what was it, which had enabled the Romans to conquer so many great nations? What was it which enabled them to keep them in order, and, on the whole, make them happier, more peaceable, more prosperous, than they had ever been? What was it which had made him, the poor common soldier, an officer, and a wealthy man, governing, by his little garrison of a hundred soldiers, this town of Capernaum, and the country round? It was this. Discipline; drill; obedience to authority. That Roman army was the most admirably disciplined which the world till then had ever seen. So, indeed, was the whole Roman Government. Every man knew his place, and knew his work. Every man had been trained to obey orders; if he was told to go, to go; if he was told to do, to do, or to die in trying to do, what he was bidden. This was the great and true thought which had filled this good man's mind--duty, order, and obedience. And by thinking of order, and seeing how strength, and safety, and success lie in order, and by giving himself up to obey orders, body and soul, like a good soldier, had that plain man (who had certainly no scholarship, perhaps could barely read or write) caught sight of a higher, wider, deeper order than even that of a Roman army. He had caught sight of that divine and wonderful order, by which God has constituted the services of men, and angels, and all created things; that divine and wonderful order by which sun and stars, fire and hail, wind and vapour, cattle and creeping things fulfil his word. Fulfil God's word. That was the thought, surely, which was in the good soldier's mind, and which he was trying to speak out; clumsily, perhaps, but truly enough. I suppose, then, that he thought in his own mind somewhat in this way. 'There is a word of command among us soldiers. Has God, then, no word of command likewise? And that word of command is enough. Is not God's word of command enough likewise? I merely speak, and I am obeyed. I am merely spoken to, and I obey. Shall not God merely speak, and be obeyed likewise? There is discipline and order among men, because it is necessary. An Army cannot be manoeuvred, a Government cannot be carried on, without it. Is there not a discipline and order in all heaven and earth? And that discipline is carried out by simple word of command. A word from me will make a man rush upon certain death. A word from certain other men will make me rush on certain death. For I am a man under authority. I have my tribune (colonel, as we should say) over me; and he, again, the perfect (general of brigade) over him. Their word is enough for me. If they want me to do a thing, they do not need to come under my roof, to argue with me, to persuade me, much less to thrust me about, and make me obey them by force. They say to me, 'Go,' and I go; and I say to those under me, 'Go,' and they go likewise. And if I can work by a word, cannot this Jesus work by a word likewise? He is a messenger of God, with commission and authority from God, to work his will on his creatures. Are not God's creatures as well ordered, disciplined, obedient, as we soldiers are? Are they not a hundred times better ordered? A messenger from God? Is he not a God himself; a God in goodness and mercy; a God in miraculous power? Cannot he do his work by a word, far more certainly than I can do mine? If my word can send a man to death, cannot his word bring a man back to life? Surely it can. 'Lord, thou needest not to come under my roof; speak the word only, and my servant shall be healed.' By some such thoughts as these, I suppose, had this good soldier gained his great faith; his faith that all God's creatures were in a divine, and wonderful order, obedient to the will of God who made them; and that Jesus Christ was God's viceroy and lieutenant (I speak so, because I suppose that is what he, as a soldier, would have thought), to carry out God's commands on earth. Now remember that he was the first heathen man of whom we read, that he acknowledged Christ. Remember, too, that the next heathen of whom we read, that he acknowledged Christ, was also a Roman centurion, he whom the old legends call Longinus, who, when he saw our Lord upon the cross, said, 'Truly this _was_ the Son of God.' Remember, again, that the next heathen of whom we read as having acknowledged Christ, he to whom St. Peter was sent, at Joppa, who is often called the first fruits of the heathen, was a Roman centurion likewise. Surely, there must have been a reason for this. There must be a lesson in this; and this, I think, is the lesson. That the soldierlike habit of mind is one which makes a man ready to receive the truth of Christ. And why? Because the good soldier's first and last thought is Duty. To do his duty by those who are set over him, and to learn to do his duty to those who are set under him. To turn his whole mind and soul to doing, not just what he fancies, but to what must be done, because it is his duty. This is the character which makes a good soldier, and a good Christian likewise. If we be undisciplined and undutiful, and unruly; if we be fanciful, self- willed, disobedient; then we shall not understand Christ, or Christ's rule on earth and in heaven. If there be no order within us, we shall not see his divine and wonderful order all around us. If there be no discipline and obedience within us, we shall never believe really that Christ disciplines all things, and that all things obey him. If there be no sense of duty in us, governing our whole lives and actions, we shall never perceive the true beauty and glory of Christ's character, who sacrificed himself for his duty, which was to do his Father's will. I tell you, my friends, that nothing prevents a man from gaining either right doctrines or right practice, so much as the undutiful, unruly, self-conceited heart. We may be full of religious knowledge, of devout sentiments, of heavenly aspirations: but in spite of them all, we shall never get beyond false doctrine, and loose practice, unless we have learned to obey; to rule our own minds, and hearts, and tempers, soberly and patiently; to conform to the laws, and to all reasonable rules of society, to believe that God has called us to our station in life, whatever it may be; and to do our duty therein, as faithful soldiers and servants of Christ. For, if you will receive it, the beginning and the middle, and the end of all true religion is simply this. To do the will of God on earth, as it is done in heaven. SERMON V. CHRIST'S SHEEP Mark vi. 34. And Jesus, when he came out, saw much people, and was moved with compassion toward them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd: and he began to teach them many things. This is a text full of comfort, if we will but remember one thing: that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever; and, therefore, what he did when he was upon earth, he is doing now, and will do till the end of the world. If we will believe this, and look at our Lord's doings upon earth as patterns and specimens, as it were, of his eternal life and character, then every verse in the gospels will teach us something, and be precious to us. The people came to hear Jesus in a desert place; a wild forest country, among the hills on the east side of the Lake of Gennesaret. 'And Jesus, when he came out, saw much people, and was moved with compassion toward them, because they were as sheep having no shepherd: and he taught them many things.' And, what kind of people were these, who so moved our Lord's pity? The text tells us, that they were like sheep. Now, in what way were they like sheep? A sheep is simple, and harmless, and tractable, and so, I suppose, were these people. They may not have been very clever and shrewd; not good scholars. No doubt they were a poor, wild, ignorant, set of people; but they were tractable; they were willing to come and learn; they felt their own ignorance, and wanted to be taught. They were not proud and self-sufficient, not fierce or bloodthirsty. The text does not say that they were like wild beasts having no keeper: but like sheep having no shepherd. And therefore Christ pitied them, because they were teachable, willing to be taught, and worth teaching; and yet had no one to teach them. The Scribes and Pharisees, it seems, taught them nothing. They may have taught the people in Jerusalem, and in the great towns, something: but they seem, from all the gospels, to have cared little or nothing for the poor folk out in the wild mountain country. They liked to live in pride and comfort in the towns, with their comfortable congregations round them, admiring them; but they had no fancy to go out into the deserts, to seek and to save those who were lost. They were bad shepherds, greedy shepherds, who were glad enough to shear God's flock, and keep the wool themselves: but they did not care to feed the flock of God. It was too much trouble; and they could get no honour and no money by it. And most likely they did not understand these poor people; could not speak, hardly understand, their country language; for these Galileans spoke a rough dialect, different from that of the upper classes. So the Scribes and Pharisees looked down on them as a bad, wild, low set of people, with whom nothing could be done; and said, 'This people who knoweth not the law, is accursed.' But what they would not do, God himself would. God in Christ had come to feed his own flock, and to seek the lost sheep, and bring them gently home to God's fold. He could feel for these poor wild foresters and mountain shepherds; he could understand what was in their hearts; for he knew the heart of man; and, therefore, he could make them understand him. And it was for this very reason, one might suppose, that our Lord was willing to be brought up at Nazareth, that he might learn the country speech, and country ways, and that the people might grow to look on him as one of themselves. Those Scribes and Pharisees, one may suppose, were just the people whom they could not understand; fine, rich scholars, proud people talking very learnedly about deep doctrines. The country folk must have looked at them as if they belonged to some other world, and said,--Those Pharisees cannot understand us, any more than we can them, with their hard rules about this and that. Easy enough for rich men like them to make rules for poor ones. Indeed our Lord said the very same of them--'Binding heavy burdens, and grievous to be borne, and laying them on men's shoulders; while they themselves would not touch them with one of their fingers.' Then the Lord himself came and preached to these poor wild folk, and they heard him gladly. And why? Because his speech was too deep for them? Because he scolded and threatened them? No. We never find that our Lord spoke harshly to them. They had plenty of sins, and he knew it: but it is most remarkable that the Evangelists never tell us what he said about those sins. What they do tell us is, that he spoke to them of the common things around them, of the flowers of the field, the birds of the air, of sowing and reaping, and feeding sheep; and taught them by parables, taken from the common country life which they lived, and the common country things which they saw; and shewed them how the kingdom of God was like unto this and that which they had seen from their childhood, and how earth was a pattern of heaven. And they could understand that. Not all of it perhaps: but still they heard him gladly. His preaching made them understand themselves, and their own souls, and what God felt for them, and what was right and wrong, and what would become of them, as they never felt before. It is plain and certain that the country people could understand Christ's parables, when the Scribes and Pharisees could not. The Scribes and Pharisees, in spite of all their learning, were those who were without (as our Lord said); who had eyes and could not see, and ears and could not hear, for their hearts were grown fat and gross. With all their learning, they were not wise enough to understand the message which God sends in every flower and every sunbeam; the message which Christ preached to the poor, and the poor heard him gladly; the message which he confirmed to them by his miracles. For what were his miracles like? Did he call down lightning to strike sinners dead, or call up earthquakes, to swallow them? No; he went about healing the sick, cleansing the leper, feeding the hungry in the wilderness; that therefore they might see by his example, the glory of their Father in heaven, and understand that God is a God of Love, of mercy, a deliverer, a Saviour, and not, as the Scribes and Pharisees made him out, a hard taskmaster, keeping his anger for ever, and extreme to mark what was done amiss. Ah that, be sure, was what made the Scribes and Pharisees more mad than anything else against Christ, that he spoke to the poor ignorant people of their Father in heaven. It made them envious enough to see the poor people listening to Christ, when they would not listen to them; but when he told these poor folk, whom they called 'accursed and lost sinners,' that God in heaven was their Father, then no name was too bad for our Lord; and they called him the worst name which they could think of--a friend of publicans and sinners. That was the worst name, in their eyes: and yet, in reality, it was the highest honour. But they never forgave him. How could they? They felt that if he was doing God's work, they were doing the devil's, that either he or they must be utterly wrong: and they never rested till they crucified him, and stopped him for ever, as they fancied, from telling poor ignorant people laden with sins to consider the flowers of the field how they grow, and learn from them that they have a Father in heaven who knoweth what they have need of before they ask him. But they did not stop Christ: and, what is more, they will never stop him. He has said it, and it remains true for ever; for he is saying it over and over again, in a thousand ways, to his sheep, when they are wandering without a shepherd. Only let them be Christ's sheep, and he will have compassion on them, and teach them many things. Many may neglect them: but Christ will not. Whoever you may be, however simple you are, however ignorant, however lonely, still, if you are one of Christ's sheep, if you are harmless and teachable, willing and wishing to learn what is right, then Christ will surely teach you in his good time. There never was a soul on earth, I believe, who really wished for God's light, but what God's light came to it at last, as it will to you, if you be Christ's sheep. If you are proud and conceited, you will learn nothing. If you are fierce and headstrong, you will learn nothing. If you are patient and gentle, you will learn all that you need to know; for Christ will teach you. He has many ways of teaching you. By his ministers; by the Bible; by books; by good friends; by sorrows and troubles; by blessings and comforts; by stirring up your mind to think over the common things which lie all around you in your daily work. But what need for me to go on counting by how many ways Christ will lead you, when he has more ways than man ever dreamed of? Who hath known the mind of the Lord; or who shall be his counsellor? Only be sure that he will teach you, if you wish to learn; and be sure that this is what he will teach you--to know the glory of his Father and your Father, whose name is Love. SERMON VI. THE HEARING EAR AND THE SEEING EYE Proverbs xx. 12. The hearing ear, and the seeing eye, the Lord hath made even both of them. This saying may seem at first a very simple one; and some may ask, What need to tell us that? We know it already. God, who made all things, made the ear and the eye likewise. True, my friends: but the simplest texts are often the deepest; and that, just because they speak to us of the most common things. For the most common things are often the most wonderful, and deep, and difficult to understand. The hearing of the ear, and the seeing of the eye.--Every one hears and sees all day long, so perpetually that we never think about our hearing or sight, unless we find them fail us. And yet, how wonderful are hearing and sight. How we hear, how we see, no man knows, and perhaps ever will know. When the ear is dissected and examined, it is found to be a piece of machinery infinitely beyond the skill of mortal man to make. The tiny drum of the ear, which quivers with every sound which strikes it, puts to shame with its divine workmanship all the clumsy workmanship of man. But recollect that _it_ is not all the wonder, but only the beginning of it. The ear is wonderful: but still more wonderful is it how the ear _hears_. It is wonderful, I mean, how the ear should be so made, that each different sound sets it in motion in a different way: but still more wonderful, how that sound should pass up from the ear to the nerves and brain, so that we _hear_. Therein is a mystery which no mortal man can explain. So of the eye. All the telescopes and microscopes which man makes, curiously and cunningly as they are made, are clumsy things compared with the divine workmanship of the eye. I cannot describe it to you; nor, if I could, is this altogether a fit place to do so. But if any one wishes to see the greatness and the glory of God, and be overwhelmed with the sense of his own ignorance, and of God's wisdom, let him read any book which describes to him the eye of man, or even of beast, and then say with the psalmist, 'I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Marvellous are thy works, O Lord, and that my soul knoweth right well.' And remember, that as with the ear, so with the eye, the mere workmanship of it is only the beginning of the wonder. It is very wonderful that the eye should be able to take a picture of each thing in front of it; that on the tiny black curtain at the back of the eye, each thing outside should be printed, as it were, instantly, exact in shape and colour. But that is not sight. Sight is a greater wonder, over and above that. Seeing is this, that the picture which is printed on the back of the eye, is also printed on our brain, so that we _see_ it. There is the wonder of wonders. Do some of you not understand me? Then look at it thus. If you took out the eye of an animal, and held it up to anything, a man or a tree, a perfect picture of that man or that tree would be printed on the back of the dead eye: but the eye would not _see_ it. And why? Because it is cut off from the live brain of the animal to which it belonged; and therefore, though the picture is still in the eye, it sends no message about itself up to the brain, and is not seen. And how does the picture on the eye send its message about itself to the brain, so that the brain sees it? And how, again--for here is a third wonder, greater still--do _we_ ourselves see what our brain sees? That no man knows, and, perhaps, never will know in this world. For science, as it is called, that is, the understanding of this world, and what goes on therein, can only tell us as yet what happens, what God does: but of how God does it, it can tell us little or nothing; and of why God does it, nothing at all; and all we can say is, at every turn, "God is great." Mind, again, that these are not all the wonders which are in the ear and in the eye. It is wonderful enough, that our brains should hear through our ears, and see through our eyes: but it is more wonderful still, that they should be able to recollect what they have heard and seen. That you and I should be able to call up in our minds a sound which we heard yesterday, or even a minute ago, is to me one of the most utterly astonishing things I know of. And so of ordinary recollection. What is it that we call remembering a place, remembering a person's face? That place, or that face, was actually printed, as it were, through our eye upon our brain. We have a picture of it somewhere; we know not where, inside us. But that we should be able to call that picture up again, and look at it with what we rightly call our mind's eye, whenever we choose; and not merely that one picture only, but thousands of such;--that is a wonder, indeed, which passes understanding. Consider the hundreds of human faces, the hundreds of different things and places, which you can recollect; and then consider that all those different pictures are lying, as it were, over each other in hundreds in that small place, your brain, for the most part without interfering with, or rubbing out each other, each ready to be called up, recollected, and used in its turn. If this is not wonderful, what is? So wonderful, that no man knows, or, I think, ever will know, how it comes to pass. How the eye tells the brain of the picture which is drawn upon the back of the eve--how the brain calls up that picture when it likes--these are two mysteries beyond all man's wisdom to explain. These are two proofs of the wisdom and the power of God, which ought to sink deeper into our hearts than all signs and wonders;--greater proofs of God's power and wisdom, than if yon fir-trees burst into flame of themselves, or yon ground opened, and a fountain of water sprung out. Most people think much of signs and wonders. Just in proportion as they have no real faith in God, just in proportion as they forget God, and will not see that he is about their path, and about their bed, and spying out all their ways, they are like those godless Scribes and Pharisees of old, who must have signs and wonders before they would believe. So it is: the commonest things are as wonderful, more wonderful, than the uncommon; and yet, people will hanker after the uncommon, as if they belonged to God more immediately than the commonest matters. If yon trees burst out in flame; if yon hill opened, and a fountain sprang up, how many would cry, 'How awful! How wonderful! Here is a sign that God is near us! It is time to think about our souls now! Perhaps the end of the world is at hand!' And all the while they would be blind to that far more awful proof of God's presence, that all around them, all day long, all over the world, millions of human ears are hearing, millions of human eyes are seeing, God alone knows how; millions of human brains are recollecting, God alone knows how. That is not faith, my friends, to see God only in what is strange and rare: but this is faith, to see God in what is most common and simple; to know God's greatness not so much from disorder, as from order; not so much from those strange sights in which God seems (but only seems) to break his laws, as from those common ones in which he fulfils his laws. I know it is very difficult to believe that. It has been always difficult; and for this reason. Our souls and minds are disorderly; and therefore order does not look to us what it is, the likeness and glory of God. I will explain. If God, at any moment, should create a full-grown plant with stalk, leaves, and flowers, all perfect, all would say, There is the hand of God! How great is God! There is, indeed, a miracle!--Just because it would seem not to be according to order. But the tiny seed sown in the ground, springing up into root-leaf, stalk, rough leaf, flower, seed, which will again be sown and spring up into leaf, flower, and seed;--in that perpetual miracle, people see no miracle: just because it is according to order: because it comes to pass by regular and natural laws. And why? Because, such as we are, such we fancy God to be. And we are all of us more or less disorderly: fanciful; changeable; fond of doing not what we ought, but what we like; fond of showing our power, not by keeping rules, but by breaking rules; and we fancy too often that God is like ourselves, and make him in our image, after our own likeness, which is disorder, and self-will, and changeableness; instead of trying to be conformed to his image and his likeness, which is order and law eternal: and, therefore, whenever God seems (for he only _seems_ to our ignorance) to be making things suddenly, as we make, or working arbitrarily as we work, then we acknowledge his greatness and wisdom. Whereas his greatness, his wisdom, are rather shown in not making as we make, not working as we work: but in this is the greatness of God manifest, in that he has ordained laws which must work of themselves, and with which he need never interfere: laws by which the tiny seed, made up only (as far as we can see) of a little water, and air, and earth, must grow up into plant, leaf, and flower, utterly unlike itself, and must produce seeds which have the truly miraculous power of growing up in their turn, into plants exactly like that from which they sprung, and no other. Ah, my friends, herein is the glory of God: and he who will consider the lilies of the field, how they grow, that man will see at last that the highest, and therefore the truest, notion of God is, not that the universe is continually going wrong, so that he has to interfere and right it: but that the universe is continually going right, because he hath given it a law which cannot be broken. And when a man sees that, there will arise within his soul a clear light, and an awful joy, and an abiding peace, and a sure hope; and a faith as of a little child. Then will that man crave no more for signs and wonders, with the superstitious and the unbelieving, who have eyes, and see not; ears, and cannot hear; whose hearts are waxen gross, so that they cannot consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: but all his cry will be to the Lord of Order, to make him orderly; to the Lord of Law, to make him loyal; to the Lord in whom is nothing arbitrary, to take out of him all that is unreasonable and self-willed; and make him content, like his Master Christ before him, to do the will of his Father in heaven, who has sent him into this noble world. He will no longer fancy that God is an absent God, who only comes down now and then to visit the earth in signs and wonders: but he will know that God is everywhere, and over all things, from the greatest to the least; for in God, he, and all things created, live and move and have their being. And therefore, knowing that he is always in the presence of God, he will pray to be taught how to use all his powers aright, because all of them are the powers of God; pray to be taught how to see, and how to hear; pray that when he is called to account for the use of this wonderful body which God has bestowed on him, he may not be brought to shame by the thought that he has used it merely for his own profit or his own pleasure, much less by the thought that he has weakened and diseased it by misuse and neglect: but comforted by the thought that he has done with it what the Lord Jesus did with his body--made it the useful servant, and not the brutal master, of his immortal soul. And he will do that, I believe, just as far as he keeps in mind what a wonderful and useful thing his body is; what a perpetual token and witness to him of the unspeakable greatness and wisdom of God; just in proportion as he says day by day, with the Psalmist, 'Thou hast fashioned me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful and excellent for me; I cannot attain unto it. Whither shall I go, then, from thy Spirit; or whither shall I go from thy presence? If I climb up into heaven, thou art there. If I go down to hell, thou art there also. If I take the wings of the morning, and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there also shall thy hand lead me, thy right hand shall hold me.' Just in proportion as he recollects that, will he utter from his heart the prayer which follows, 'Try me, O God, and seek the ground of my heart; prove me, and examine my thoughts. Look well if there be any way of wickedness in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.' SERMON VII. THE VICTORY OF FAITH (First Sunday after Easter.) 1 John v. 4, 5. Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory which overcometh the world, even our faith. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God? What is the meaning of 'overcoming the world?' What is there about the world which we have to overcome? lest it should overcome us, and make worse men of us than we ought to be. Let us think awhile. 1. In the world all seems full of chance and change. One man rises, and another falls, one hardly knows why: they hardly know themselves. A very slight accident may turn the future of a man's whole life, perhaps of a whole nation. Chance and change--there seems to us, at times, to be little else than chance and change. Is not the world full of chance? Are not people daily crushed in railways, burnt to death, shot with their own guns, poisoned by mistake, without any reason that we can see, why one should be taken, and another left? Why should not an accident happen to us, as well as to others? Why should not we have the thing we love best snatched from us this day? Why not, indeed? What, then, will help us to overcome the fear of chances and accidents? How shall we keep from being fearful, fretful, full of melancholy forebodings! Where shall we find something abiding and eternal, a refuge sure and steadfast, in which we may trust, amid all the chances and changes of this mortal life? St. John tells us--In that within you which is born of God. 2. In the world so much seems to go by fixed law and rule. That is even more terrible to our minds and hearts--to find that all around us, in the pettiest matters of life, there are laws and rules ready made for us, which we cannot break; laws of trade; laws of prosperity and adversity; laws of health and sickness; laws of weather and storms; laws by which not merely we, but whole nations, grow, and decay, and die.--All around us, laws, iron laws, which we do not make, and which we dare not try to break, lest they go on their way, and grind us to powder. Then comes the awful question, Are we at the mercy of these laws? Is the world a great machine, which goes grinding on its own way without any mercy to us or to anything; and are we each of us parts of the machine, and forced of necessity to do all we do? Is it true, that our fate is fixed for us from the cradle to the grave, and perhaps beyond the grave? How shall we prevent the world from overcoming us in this? How shall we escape the temptation to sit down and fold our hands in sloth and despair, crying, What we are, we must be; and what will come, must come; whether it be for our happiness or misery, our life or death? Where shall we find something to trust in, something to give us confidence and hope that we can mend ourselves, that self-improvement is of use, that working is of use, that prudence is of use, for God will reward every man according to his work? St. John tells us--In that within you which is born of God. 3. Then, again, in the world how much seems to go by selfishness. Let every man take care of himself, help himself, fight for himself against all around him, seems to be the way of the world, and the only way to get on in the world. But is it really to be so? Are we to thrive only by thinking of ourselves? Something in our hearts tells us, No. Something in our hearts tells us that this would be a very miserable world if every man shifted for himself; and that even if we got this world's good things by selfishness, they would not be worth having after all, if we had no one but ourselves to enjoy them with. What is that? St. John answers--That in you which is born of God. It will enable you to overcome the world's deceits, and to see that selfishness is _not_ the way to prosper. 4. Once, again; in the world how much seems to go by mere custom and fashion. Because one person does a thing right or wrong, everybody round fancies himself bound to do likewise. Because one man thinks a thing, hundreds and thousands begin to think the same from mere hearsay, without examining and judging for themselves. There is no silliness, no cruelty, no crime into which people have not fallen, and may still fall, for mere fashion's sake, from blindly following the example of those round him. 'Everybody does so; and I must. Why should I be singular?' Or, 'Everybody does so; what harm can there be in my doing so?' But there is something in each of us which tells us that that is not right; that each man should act according to his own conscience, and not blindly follow his neighbour, not knowing whither, like sheep over a hedge; that a man is directly responsible at first for his own conduct to God, and that 'my neighbours did so' will be no excuse in God's sight. What is it which tells us this? St. John answers, That in you which is born of God; and it, if you will listen to it, will enable you to overcome the world's deceit, and its vain fashions, and foolish hearsays, and blind party-cries; and not to follow after a multitude to do evil. What, then, is this thing? St. John tells us that it is born of God; and that it is our faith. _Faith_ will enable us to overcome the world. We shall overcome by believing and trusting in something which we do not see. But in what? Are we to believe and trust that we are going to heaven? St. John does not say so; he was far too wise, my friends, to say so: for a man's trusting that he is going to heaven, if that is all the faith he has, is more likely to make the world overcome him, than him overcome the world. For it will make him but too ready to say, 'If I am sure to be saved after I die, it matters not so very much what I do before I die. I may follow the way of the world here, in money-making and meanness, and selfishness; and then die in peace, and go to heaven after all.' This is no fancy. There are hundreds, nay thousands, I fear, in England now, who let the world and its wicked ways utterly overcome them, just because their faith is a faith in their own salvation, and not the faith of which St. John speaks--Believing that Jesus is the Son of God. But some may ask, 'How will believing that Jesus is the Son of God help us more than believing the other? For, after all, we do believe it. We all believe that Jesus is the Son of God: but as for overcoming the world, we dare not say too much of that. We fear we are letting the world overcome us; we are living too much in continual fear of the chances and changes of this mortal life. We are letting things go too much their own way. We are trying too much each to get what he can by his own selfish wits, without considering his neighbours. We are following too much the ways and fashions of the day, and doing and saying and thinking anything that comes uppermost, just because others do so round us.' Is it so, my friends? But do you really believe that Jesus is the Son of God? For sure I am, that if you did, and I did, really and fully believe that, we could all lead much better lives than we are leading, manful and godly, useful and honourable, truly independent and yet truly humble; fearing God and fearing nothing else. But do you believe it? Have you ever thought of all that those great words mean, 'Jesus is the Son of God'?--That he who died on the cross, and rose again for us, now sits at God's right hand, having all power given to him in heaven and earth? For, think, if we really believed that, what power it would give us to overcome the world, and all its chances and changes; all its seemingly iron laws; all its selfish struggling; all its hearsays and fashions. 1. Those chances and changes of mortal life of which I spoke first. We should not be afraid of them, then, even if they came. For we should believe that they were not chances and changes at all, but the loving providence of our Lord and Saviour, a man of the substance of his mother, born in the world, who therefore can be touched with a feeling of our infirmities, and knows our necessities before we ask, and our ignorance in asking, and orders all things for good to those who love him, and desire to copy his likeness. 2. Those stern laws and rules by which the world moves, and will move as long as it lasts--we should not be afraid of them either, as if we were mere parts of a machine forced by fate to do this thing and that, without a will of our own. For we should believe that these laws were the laws of the Lord Jesus Christ; that he had ordained them for the good of man, of man whom he so loved that he poured out his most precious blood upon the cross for us; and therefore we should not fear them; we should only wish to learn them, that we might obey them, sure that they are the laws of life; of health and wealth, peace and safety, honour and glory in this world and in the world to come; and we should thank God whenever men of science, philosophers, clergymen, or any persons whatsoever, found out more of the laws of that good God, in whom we and all created things live and move and have our being. 3. If we believe really that Jesus was the Son of God, we should never believe that selfishness was to be the rule of our lives. One sight of Christ upon his cross would tell us that not selfishness, but love, was the likeness of God, that not selfishness, but love, which gives up all that it may do good, was the path to honour and glory, happiness and peace. 4. If we really believe this, we should never believe that custom and fashion ought to rule us. For we should live by the example of some one else: but by the example of only one--of Jesus himself. We should set him before us as the rule of all our actions, and try to keep our conscience pure, not merely in the sight of men who may mistake, and do mistake, but in the sight of Jesus, the Word of God, who pierces the very thoughts and intents of the heart; and we should say daily with St. Paul, 'It is a small thing for me to be judged by you, or any man's judgment, for he that judges me is the Lord.' And so we should overcome the world. Our hearts and spirits would rise above the false shows of things, to God who has made all things; above fear and melancholy; above laziness and despair; above selfishness and covetousness, above custom and fashion; up to the everlasting truth and order, which is the mind of God; that so we might live joyfully and freely in the faith and trust that Christ is our king, Christ is our Saviour, Christ is our example, Christ is our judge; and that as long as we are loyal to him, all will be well with us in this world, and in all worlds to come.--Amen. SERMON VIII. TURNING-POINTS Luke xix. 41, 42. And when Jesus was come near, he beheld the city, and wept over it, saying, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes. My dear friends, here is a solemn lesson to be learnt from this text. What is true of whole nations, and of whole churches, is very often true of single persons--of each of us. To most men--to all baptized Christian men, perhaps--there comes a day of visitation, a crisis, or turning-point in our lives. A day when Christ sets before us, as he did to those Jews, good and evil, light and darkness, right and wrong, and says, Choose! Choose at once, and choose for ever; for by what you choose this day, by that you must abide till death. If you make a mistake now, you will rue it to the last. If you take the downward road now, you will fall lower and lower upon it henceforth. If you shut your eyes now to the things which belong to your peace, they will be hid from your eyes for ever; and nothing but darkness, ignorance, and confusion will be before you henceforth. What will become of the man's soul after he dies, I cannot say. Christ is his judge, and not I. He may be saved, yet so as by fire, as St. Paul says. Repentance is open to all men, and forgiveness for those who repent. But from that day, if he chooses wrongly, true repentance will grow harder and harder to him--perhaps impossible at last. He has made his bed, and he must lie on it. He has chosen the evil, and refused the good; and now the evil must go on getting more and more power over him. He has sold his soul, and now he must pay the price. Again, I say, he may be saved at last. Who am I, to say that God's mercy is not boundless, when the Bible says it is? But one may well say of that man, 'God help him,' for he will not be able to help himself henceforth. It is an awful thing, my friends, to think that we may fix our own fate in this world, perhaps in the world to come, by one act of wilful folly or sin: but so it is. Just as a man may do one tricky thing about money, which will force him to do another to hide it, and another after that, till he becomes a confirmed rogue in spite of himself. Just as a man may run into debt once, so that he never gets out of debt again; just as a man may take to drink once, and the bad habit grow on him till he is a confirmed drunkard to his dying day. Just as a man may mix in bad company once, and so become entangled as in a net, till he cannot escape his evil companions, and lowers himself to their level day by day, till he becomes as bad as they. Just as a man may be unfaithful to his wife once, and so blunt his conscience till he becomes a thorough profligate, breaking her heart, and ruining his own soul. Just as--but why should I go on, mentioning ugly examples, which we all know too well, if we will open our own eyes and see the world and mankind as they are? I will say no more, lest I should set you on judging other people, and saying 'There is no hope for them. They are lost.' No; let us rather judge ourselves, as any man can, and will, who dares face fact, and look steadily at what he is, and what he might become. Do we not know that we could, any one of us, sell our own souls, once and for all, if we choose? I know that I could. I know that there are things which I might do, which if I did from that moment forth, I should have no hope, but only a fearful looking forward to judgment and fiery indignation. And have you never felt, when you were tempted to do wrong: 'I dare not do it for my own sake; for if I did this one wickedness, I feel sure that I never should be an honest man again?' If you have felt that, thank God, indeed; for then you have seen the things which belong to your peace; you have known the day of your visitation; and you will be a better man as long as you live, for having fought against that one temptation, and chosen the good, and refused the evil, when God put them unmistakeably before you. No; the real danger is, lest a man should be as those Jews, and not know the day of his visitation. Ah, that is ruinous indeed, when a man's eyes are blinded as those Jews' eyes were; when a great temptation comes on him, and he thinks it no temptation at all; when hell is opening beneath him, with the devils trying to pluck him down, and heaven opening above him, with God's saints and martyrs beckoning him up, looking with eyes of unutterable pity and anxiety and love on a poor soul; and that poor soul sees neither heaven nor hell, nor anything but his own selfish interest, selfish pleasure, or selfish pride, and snaps at the devil's bait as easily as a silly fish; while the devil, instead of striking to frighten him, lets him play with the bait, and gorge it in peace, fancying that he is well off, when really he is fast hooked for ever, led captive thenceforth from bad to worse by the snare of the devil. Oh miserable blindness, which comes over men sometimes, and keeps them asleep at the very moment that they ought to be most wide awake! And what throws men into that sleep? What makes them do in one minute something which curses all their lives afterwards? Love of pleasure? Yes: that is a common curse enough, as we all know. But a worse snare than even that is pride and self-conceit. That was what ruined those old Jews. That was what blinded their eyes. They had made up their minds that they saw; therefore they were blind: that they could not go wrong; therefore they went utterly and horribly wrong thenceforth: that they alone of all people knew and kept God's law; therefore they crucified the Son of God himself for fulfilling their law. They were taken unawares, because they were asleep in vain security. And so with us. By conceit and carelessness, we may ruin ourselves in a moment, once and for all. When a man has made up his mind that he is quite worldly-wise; that no one can take him in; that he thoroughly understands his own interest; then is that man ripe and ready to commit some enormous folly, which may bring him to ruin. When a man has made up his mind that he knows all doctrines, and is fully instructed in religion, and can afford to look down on all who differ from him; then is that man ripe and ready for doing something plainly wrong and wicked, which will blunt his conscience from that day forth, and teach him to call evil good, and good evil more and more; till, in the midst of all his fine religious professions, he knows not plain right from plain wrong--full of the form of godliness, but denying the power of it in scandal of his every-day life. Yes, my friends, our only safeguard is humility. Be not high- minded, but fear. Avoid every appearance of evil. Believe that in every temptation heaven and hell may be at stake: and that the only way to be safe is to do nothing wilfully wrong at all, for you never know how far downward one wilful sin may lead you. The devil is not simple enough to let you see the bottom of his pitfall: but it is so deep, nevertheless, that he who falls in, may never get out again. And do not say in your hearts about this thing and that, 'Well, it is wrong: but it is such a little matter.' A little draught may give a great cold; and a great cold grow to a deadly decline. A little sin may grow to a great bad habit; and a great bad habit may kill both body and soul in hell. A little bait may take a great fish; and the devil fishes with a very fine line, and is not going to let you see his hook. The only way to be safe is to avoid all appearance of evil, lest when you fancy yourself most completely your own master, you find yourself the slave of sin. Oh, may God give us all the spirit of watchfulness and godly fear! Of watchfulness, lest sin overtake us unawares; and of godly fear, that we may have strength to say with Joseph, 'How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?' Of watchfulness, too, not only against sin, but for God; of godly fear, not only fear of God's anger, but fear of God's love. Do you ask what I mean? This, my friends; that as we cannot tell at any moment what danger may be coming on us, so we cannot tell at any moment what blessing from God may be coming on us. Those Jews, in the day of their visitation, were blind, and they rejected Christ: but recollect, that it was _Christ_ whom they rejected; that Christ was there, not in anger, but in love; not to judge, but to save; that the power of the Lord was present, not to destroy, but to heal them. They would have none of him. True; but they might have had him if they had chosen. They denied him; but he could not deny himself. He was there to teach and to save, as he comes to teach and to save every man. Therefore, I say, be watchful. Believe that Christ is looking for you always, and expect to meet him at any moment. I do not mean in visible form, in vision or apparition. No. He comes, not by observation, that a man may say, 'Lo, here; and lo, there;' but he comes within you, to your hearts, with the still, small voice, which softens a man and sobers him for a moment, and makes him yearn after good, and say in his heart, 'Ah, that I were as when I was a child upon my mother's knee.' Oh! listen to that softening, sobering voice. Through very small things it may speak to you: but it is Christ himself who speaks. Whenever your heart is softened to affection toward parent, or child, or your fellowman, then Christ is speaking to you, and showing you the things which belong to your peace. Whenever the feeling of justice, and righteous horror of all meanness rises strong in you, then Christ is speaking to you. Whenever your heart burns within you with admiration of some noble action, then Christ is speaking to you. Whenever a chance word in sermons or in books touches your conscience, and reproves you, then Christ is speaking to you. Oh turn not a deaf ear to those instincts. They may be the very turning-points of your lives. One such godly motion, one such pure inspiration of the Spirit of God listened to humbly, and obeyed heartily, may be the means of putting you into the right path thenceforward, that you may go on and grow in strength and wisdom, and favour with God and man; till you become again, in the world to come, what you were when you were carried home from the baptismal font, a little child, pure from all spot of sin. SERMON IX. OBADIAH 1 Kings, xviii. 3, 4. And Ahab called Obadiah, which was the governor of his house. (Now Obadiah feared the Lord greatly: for it was so, when Jezebel cut off the prophets of the Lord, that Obadiah took an hundred prophets, and hid them by fifty in a cave, and fed them with bread and water.) This is the first and last time throughout the Bible, that we find this Obadiah mentioned. We find the same name elsewhere, but not the same person. It is a common Jewish name, Obadiah, and means, I believe, the servant of the Lord. All we know of the man is contained in this chapter. We do not read what became of him afterwards. He vanishes out of the story as quickly as he came into it, and, as we go on through the chapter and read of that grand judgment at Carmel between Elijah and the priests of Baal, and the fire of God which came down from heaven, to shew that the Lord was God, we forget Obadiah, and care to hear of him no more. And yet Obadiah was a great man in his day. He was, it seems, King Ahab's vizier, or prime minister; the second man in the country after the king; and a prime minister in those eastern kingdoms had, and has now, far greater power than he has in a free country like this. Yes, Obadiah was a great man in his day, I doubt not; and people bowed before him when he went out, and looked up to him, in that lawless country, for life or death, for ruin or prosperity. Their money, and their land, their very lives might depend on his taking a liking toward them, or a spite against them. And he had wealth, no doubt, and his fair and great house there among the beautiful hills of Samaria, ceiled with cedar and painted with vermilion, with its olive groves and vineyards, and rich gardens full of gay flowers and sweet spices, figs and peaches, and pomegranates, and all the lovely vegetation which makes those Eastern gardens like Paradise itself. And he had his great household of slaves, men-servants and maidservants, guards and footmen, singing men and singing women--perhaps a hundred souls and more eating and drinking in his house day by day for many a year. A great man; full of wealth, and pomp, and power. We know that it must have been so, because we know well in what luxury those great men in the East lived. But where is it now? Where is it now? Vanished and forgotten. Be not thou afraid, though one be made rich, or if the glory of his house be increased. For he shall carry nothing away with him when he dieth; neither shall his pomp follow him. See--of all Obadiah's wealth and glory, the Bible does not say one word. It is actually not worth mentioning. People admired Obadiah, I doubt not, while he was alive; envied him too, tried to thrust him out of his place, slander him to King Ahab, drive him out of favour, and step into his place, that they might enjoy his wealth and his power instead of him. The fine outside of Obadiah was what they saw, and coveted, and envied--as we are tempted now to say in our hearts, 'Ah, if I was rich like that man. Ah, if I could buy what I liked, go where I liked, do what I liked, like that great Lord!'-- and yet, that is but the outside, the shell, the gay clothing, not the persons themselves. The day must come, when they must put off all that; when nothing shall remain but themselves; and they themselves, naked as they were born, shall appear before the judgment-seat of God. And did Obadiah, then, carry away nothing with him when he died? Yes; and yet again, No. His wealth and his power he left behind him: but one thing he took with him into the grave, better than all wealth and power; and he keeps it now, and will keep it for ever; and that is, a good, and just, and merciful action--concerning which it is written, 'Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord; for they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them.' Yes, though a man's wealth will not follow him beyond the grave, his works will; and so Obadiah's one good deed has followed him. 'He feared the Lord greatly, and when Jezebel cut off the prophets of the Lord, Obadiah took a hundred prophets, and hid them by fifty in a cave, and fed them with bread and water.' That has followed Obadiah; for by it we know him, now two thousand years and more after his death, here in a distant land of the name of which he never heard. By that good deed he lives. He lives in the pages of the Holy Bible; he lives in our minds and memories; and more than all, by that good deed he lives for ever in God's sight; he is rewarded for it, and the happier for it, doubt it not, at this very moment, and will be the happier for it for ever. Oh blessed thought! that there is something of which death cannot rob us! That when we have to leave this pleasant world, wife and child, home and business, and all that has grown up round us here on earth, till it has become like a part of ourselves, yet still we are not destitute. We can turn round on death and say--'Though I die, yet canst thou not take my righteousness from me!' Blessed thought! that we cannot do a good deed, not even give a cup of cold water in Christ's name, but what it shall rise again, like a guardian angel, to smooth our death-bed pillow, and make our bed for us in our sickness, and follow us into the next world, to bless us for ever and ever! And blessed thought, too, that what you do well and lovingly, for God's sake, will bless you here in this world before you die! Yes, my friends, in the dark day of sorrow and loneliness, and fear and perplexity, you will find old good deeds, which you perhaps have forgotten, coming to look after you, as it were, and help you in the hour of need. Those whom you have helped, will help you in return: and if they will not, God will; for he is not unrighteous, to forget any work and labour of love, which you have showed for his name's sake, in ministering to his saints. So found Obadiah in that sad day, when he met Elijah. For he was in evil case that day, as were all souls, rich and poor, throughout that hapless land. For three weary years, there had been no drop of rain: the earth beneath their feet had been like iron, and the heavens above them brass; and Obadiah had found poverty, want, and misery, come on him in the midst of all his riches: he had seen his fair gardens wither, and his olives and his vines burnt up with drought;--his cattle had perished on the hills, and his servants, too, perhaps, in his house. Perhaps his children at home were even then crying for food and water, and crying in vain, in spite of all their father's greatness. What was the use of wealth? He could not eat gold, nor drink jewels. What was the use of his power? He could not command the smallest cloud to rise up off the sea, and pour down one drop of water to quench their thirst. Yes, Obadiah was in bitter misery that day, no doubt; and all the more, because he felt that all was God's judgment on the people's sins. They had served Baalim and Ashtaroth, the sun and moon and stars, and prayed to them for rain and fruitful seasons, as if they were the rulers of the weather and the soil, instead of serving the true God who made heaven and earth, and all therein: and now God had _judged_ them: he had given his sentence and verdict about that matter, and told them, by a sign which could not be mistaken, that he, and not the sun and moon, was master of the sky and the sea, and the rain and the soil. They had prayed to the sun and moon; and this was the fruit of their prayers-- that their prayers had not been heard: but instead of rain and plenty, was drought and barrenness;--carcasses of cattle scattered over the pastures--every village full of living skeletons, too weak to work (though what use in working, when the ground would yield no crop?)--crawling about, their tongues cleaving to the roof of their mouths, in vain searching after a drop of water. Fearful and sickening sights must Obadiah have seen that day, as he rode wearily on upon his pitiful errand. And the thought of what a pitiful errand he was going on, and what a pitiful king he served, must have made him all the more miserable; for, instead of turning and repenting, and going back to the true God, which was the plain and the only way of escaping out of that misery, that wretched King Ahab seems to have cared for nothing but his horses. We do not read that he tried to save one of his wretched people alive. All his cry was, 'Go into the land, to all fountains of water and all brooks; perhaps we shall find grass enough to save the horses and mules alive: that we lose not all the beasts.' The horses were what he cared for more than the human beings, as many of those bad kings of Israel did. Moses had expressly commanded them not to multiply horses to themselves; but they persisted always in doing so, nevertheless. And why? Because they wanted horses to mount their guards; to keep up a strong force of cavalry and chariots, in order to oppress the poor country people, whom they had brought down to slavery, from having been free yeomen, as they were in the days of Moses and Joshua. And what hope could he have for his wretched country? The people shewed no signs of coming to their senses; the king still less. His wicked Queen Jezebel was as devoted as ever to her idols; the false prophets of Baal were four hundred and fifty men, and the prophets of the groves (where the stars were worshipped) four hundred; and these cheats contrived (as such false teachers generally do) to take good care of themselves, and to eat at Jezebel's table, while all the rest of the people were perishing. What could be before the country, and him, too, but utter starvation, and hopeless ruin? And all this while his life was in the hands of a weak and capricious tyrant, who might murder him any moment, and of a wicked and spiteful queen, who certainly would murder him, if she found out that he had helped and saved the prophets of the Lord. Who so miserable as he? But on that day, Obadiah found that his alms and prayers had gone up before God, and were safe with God, and not to be forgotten for ever. When he fell on his face before Elijah, in fear for his life, he found that he was safe in God's hands; that God would not betray him or forsake him. Elijah promised him, with a solemn oath, that he would keep his word with him; he kept it, and before many days were past, Obadiah had an answer to all his prayers, and a relief from all his fears; and the Lord sent a gracious rain on his inheritance, and refreshed it when it was weary. Yes, my friends, though well-doing seems for a while not to profit you, persevere: in due time you shall reap, if you faint not. Though the Lord sometimes waits to be gracious, he only waits, he does not forget; and it is to be _gracious_ that he waits, not ungracious. Cast, therefore, thy bread upon the waters, and thou shall find it after many days. Give a portion to seven, and also to eight, for thou knowest not what evil shall be upon the earth. Do thy diligence to give of what thou hast; for so gatherest thou thyself in the day of necessity, in which, with what measure you have measured to others, God will measure to you again. This is true, for the Scripture says so; this _must_ be true, for reason and conscience--the voice of God within us--tell us that God is just; that God must be true, though every man be a liar. 'Hear,' says our Lord, 'what the _unjust_ judge says: And shall not God (the just judge), avenge his own elect, who cry day and night to him, though he bear long with them?' Yes, my friends, God's promise stands sure, now and for ever. 'Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.' But now comes in a doubt--and it ought to come in--What are our works at best? What have we which is fit to offer to God? Full of selfishness, vanity, self-conceit, the best of them; and not half done either. What have we ever done right, but what we might have done more rightly, and done more of it, also? Bad in quality our good works are, and bad in quantity, too. How shall we have courage to carry them in our hand to that God who charges his very angels with folly; and the very heavens are not clean in his sight? Too true, if we had to offer our own works to God. But, thanks be to his holy name, we have not to offer them ourselves; for there is one who offers them for us--Jesus Christ the Lord. He it is who takes these imperfect, clumsy works of ours, all soiled and stained with our sin and selfishness, and washes them clean in his most precious blood, which was shed to take away the sin of the world: he it is who, in some wonderful and unspeakable way, cleanses our works from sin, by the merit of his death and sufferings, so that nothing may be left in them but what is the fruit of God's own spirit; and that God may see in them only the good which he himself put into them, and not the stains and soils which they get from our foolish and sinful hearts. Oh, my friends, bear this in mind. Whensoever you do a thing which you know to be right and good, instead of priding yourself on it, as if the good in it came from you, offer it up to the Lord Jesus Christ, and to your Heavenly Father, from whom all good things come, and say, 'Oh Lord, the good in this is thine, and not mine; the bad in it is mine, and not thine. I thank thee for having made me do right, for without thy help I should have done nothing but wrong; for mine is the laziness, and the weakness, and the selfishness, and the self-conceit; and thine is the kingdom, for thou rulest all things; and the power, for thou doest all things; and the glory, for thou doest all things well, for ever and ever. Amen.' SERMON X. RELIGIOUS DANGERS (Preached at the Chapel Royal, Whitehall, 1861, for the London Diocesan Board of Education.) St. Mark viii. 4, 5, 8. And the disciples answered him, From whence can a man satisfy these men with bread here in the wilderness? . . . How many loaves have ye? And they said, Seven. . . . so they did eat and were filled; and they took up of the broken meat that was left seven baskets. I think that I can take no better text for the subject on which I am about to preach, than that which the Gospel for this day gives me. For is not such a great city as this London, at least in its present amorphous, unorganised state, having grown up, and growing still, any how and any whither, by the accidental necessities of private commerce, private speculation, private luxury--is it not, I say, literally a wilderness? I do not mean a wilderness in the sense of a place of want and misery; on the contrary, it is a place of plenty and of comfort. I think that we clergymen, and those good people who help our labours, are too apt exclusively to forget London labour, in our first and necessary attention to the London poor; to fix our eyes and minds on London want and misery, till we almost ignore the fact of London wealth and comfort. We must remember, if we are to be just to God, and just to our great nation, that there is not only more wealth in London, but that that wealth is more equitably and generally diffused through all classes, from the highest to the lowest, than ever has been the case in any city in the world. We must remember that there is collected together here a greater number of free human beings than were ever settled on the same space of earth, earning an honest, independent, and sufficient livelihood, and enjoying the fruits of their labour in health and cheapness, freedom and security, such as the world never saw before. There is want and misery. I know it too well. There are great confusions to be organised, great anomalies to be suppressed. But remember, that if want and misery, confusion and anomaly were _the rule_ of London, and not (as they are) the exception, then London, instead of increasing at its present extraordinary pace, would decay; London work, instead of being better and better done, would be worse and worse done, till it stopped short in some such fearful convulsion as that of Paris in 1793. No, my friends; compare London with any city on the Continent; compare her with the old Greek and Roman cities; with Alexandria, Antioch, Constantinople, with that Imperial Rome itself, which was like London in nothing but its size, and then thank God for England, for freedom, and for the Church of Christ. And yet I have called London a wilderness. I have. There is a wilderness of want; but there is a wilderness of wealth likewise. And the latter is far more dangerous to human nature than the former one. It is not in the waste and howling wilderness of rock, and sand and shingle, with its scanty acacia copses, and groups of date trees round the lonely well, that nature shews herself too strong for man, and crushes him down to the likeness of the ape. There the wild Arab, struggling to exist, and yet not finding the struggle altogether too hard for him, can gain and keep, if not spiritual life, virtue and godliness, yet still something of manhood; something of-- The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, thought, and skill. No; if you would see how low man can fall, you must go to the tropic jungle, where geniality of climate, plenty and variety of food, are in themselves a cause of degradation to the soul, as long as the Spirit of Christ is absent from it. Not in the barren desert, but in the rich forest, wanders the true savage, eating and eating all day long, like the ape in the trees above his head; and (I had almost said), like the ape, too, with no thoughts save what his pampered senses can suggest. I had almost said it. Thank God, I dare not say it altogether; for, after all, the savage is a man, and not an ape. Yes, to the lowest savage in the forests of the Amazon, comes a hunger of the soul, and whispers from the unseen world, to remind him of what he might have been, and still may be. In the dreams of the night they come; in vague terrors of the unseen, vague feelings of guilt and shame, vague dread of the powers of nature; driving him to unmeaning ceremonies, to superstitious panics, to horrible and bloody rites--as they might drive, to-morrow, my friends, an outwardly civilized population, debauched by mere peace and plenty, entangled and imprisoned in the wilderness of a great city. I can imagine--imagine?--Have we not seen again and again human souls so entangled and opprest by this vast labyrinth of brick and mortar, as never to care to stir outside it and expand their souls with the sight of God's works as long as their brute wants are supplied, just as the savage never cares to leave his accustomed forest haunt, and hew himself a path into the open air through the tangled underwood. I can imagine--nay, have we not seen that, too?-- and can we not see it any day in the street?--human souls so dazzled and stupefied, instead of being quickened, by the numberless objects of skill and beauty, which they see in their walks through the streets, that they care no more for the wonders of man's making, than the savage does for the wonders of God's making, which he sees around him in every insect, bird, and flower. The man who walks the streets every day, is the very man who will see least in the streets. The man who works in a factory, repeating a thousand times a day some one dull mechanical operation, or even casting up day after day the accounts of it, is the man who will think least of the real wonderfulness of that factory; of the amount of prudence, skill, and science, which it expresses; of its real value to himself and to his class; of its usefulness to far nations beyond the seas. He is like a savage who looks up at some glorious tree, capable, in the hands of civilized man, of a hundred uses, and teeming to him with a hundred scientific facts; and thinks all the while of nothing but his chance of finding a few grubs beneath its bark. Think over, I beseech you, this fact of the stupefying effect of mere material civilization; and remember that plenty and comfort do not diminish but increase that stupefaction; that Hebrew prophets knew it, and have told us, again and again, that, by fulness of bread the heart waxeth gross; that Greek sages knew it, and have told us, again and again, that need, and not satiety, was the quickener of the human intellect. Believe that man requires another bread than the bread of the body; that sometimes the want of the bodily bread will awaken the hunger for that bread of the soul. Bear in mind that the period during which the middle and lower classes of England were most brutalized, was that of their greatest material prosperity, the latter half of the eighteenth century. Remember that with the distress which came upon them, at the end of the French war, their spiritual hunger awakened--often in forms diseased enough: but growing healthier, as well as keener, year by year; and that if they are not brutalized once more by their present unexampled prosperity, it will be mainly owing to the spiritual life which was awakened in those sad and terrible years. Remember that the present carelessness of the masses about either religious or political agitation, though it may be a very comfortable sign to those who believe that a man's life consists in the abundance of the things which he possesses, is a very ominous sign to some who study history, and to some also who study their Bibles: and ask yourselves earnestly the question, 'From where shall a man find food for these men in this wilderness, not of want, but of wealth?' For, believe me, that spiritual hunger, though stopped awhile by physical comfort, will surely reawaken. Any severe and sudden depression in trade--the stoppage of the cotton crop, for instance, will awaken in the minds of hundreds of thousands deep questions--for which we, if we are wise, shall have an explicit answer ready. For it is a very serious moment, my friends, when large masses have had enough to eat and drink, and have been saying, 'Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die;' and then, suddenly, by _not_ having enough to eat and drink, and yet finding themselves still alive, are awakened to the sense that there is more in them than the mere capacity for eating and drinking. Then begin once more the world- old questions, Why are we thus? Who put us here? Who made us? God? Is there a God? and if there be, what is he like? What is his will toward us, good or evil? Is it hate or love? My friends, those are questions which have been asked often enough in the world's history, by vast masses at once. And they may be answered in more ways than one. They may be answered as the weavers of a certain country (thank God, not England) answered them in the potato famine with their mad song, 'We looked to the earth, and the earth deceived us. We looked to the kings, and the kings deceived us. We looked to God, and God deceived us. Let us lie down and die.' Or they may answer them--they will be more likely to answer them in England just now, because there are those who will teach them so to answer--in another, but a scarcely less terrible tone. 'Yes, there is a God; and he is angry with us. And why? Because there is something, or some one, in the nation which he abhors--heretics, papists'--what not--any man, or class of men, on whom cowardly and terrified ignorance may happen to fix as a scapegoat, and cry, 'These are the guilty! We have allowed these men, indulged them; the accursed thing is among us, therefore the face of the Lord is turned from us. We will serve him truly henceforth--and hate those whom he hates. We will be orthodox henceforth--and prove our orthodoxy by persecuting the heretic.' Does this seem to you extravagant, impossible? Remember, my friends, that within the last century Lord George Gordon's riots convulsed London. Can you give me any reason why Lord George Gordon's riots cannot occur again? Believe me, the more you study history, the more you study human nature, the more possible it will seem to you. It is not, I believe, infidelity, but fanaticism, which England has to fear just now. The infidelity of England is one of mere doubt and denial, a scepticism; which is in itself weak and self-destructive. The infidelity of France in 1793 was strong enough, but just because it was no scepticism, but a faith; a positive creed concerning human reason, and the rights of man, which men could formulize, and believe in, and fight for, and persecute for, and, if need was, die for. But no such exists in England now. And what we have most to fear in England under the pressure of some sudden distress, is a superstitious panic, and the wickedness which is certain to accompany that panic; mean and unjust, cruel and abominable things, done in the name of orthodoxy: though meanwhile, whether what the masses and their spiritual demagogues will mean by orthodoxy, will be the same that we and the Church of England mean thereby, is a question which I leave for your most solemn consideration. That, however, rather than any proclamation of the abstract rights of man, or installations of a goddess of Reason, is the form which spiritual hunger is most likely to take in England now. Alas! are there not tokens enough around us now, whereby we may discern the signs of this time? I say, the spiritual hunger will reawaken; and woe to us who really understand and love the Church of England; woe to us who are really true to her principles, honestly subscribe her formulas, if we cannot appease it in that day. But wherewith? We may look, my friends, appalled at the danger and the need. We may cry to our Lord, 'From whence can a man satisfy these men with bread in the wilderness?' But his answer will be, as far as I dare to predict it, the same as to his apostles of old on another and a similar occasion, 'Give ye them to eat. They need not depart.' I am not going to draw any far-fetched analogy between the miracle recorded in the gospel, and the subject on which I am speaking. I am not going to put any mystical and mediaeval interpretation on the seven loaves, or the two small fishes. I only ask you to accept the plain moral practical lesson which the words convey.-- Use the means which you have already, however few and weak they seem. If Christ be among you, as he is indeed, he will bless them, and multiply them you know not how. Use the means which you have; though they may seem to you inadequate, though they may seem to the world antiquated, and decrepit, try them. They need not depart from us, these masses, to seek spiritual food, they know not where, if we have but faith. Let us give them what we have; the organization of the Church of England, and the teaching of the Church of England. The organization of the Church. Not merely its Parochial system, but its Diocesan system. In London, more than in any part of England, the Diocesan system is valuable. A London parish is not like a country one, a self-dependent, corporate body, made up of residents of every rank, capable of providing for the physical and spiritual wants of its own stationary population. In London, population fluctuates rapidly, sometimes rolling away from one quarter, always developing itself in fresh quarters; in London all ranks do not dwell side by side within sight and sound of each other: but the rich and the poor, the employed and the unemployed, dwell apart, work apart, and are but too often out of sight, out of mind. These, and many other reasons, make it impossible for the mere parochial system to bring out the zeal and the liberality of London Churchmen. If they are to realize their unity and their strength, they must do so not as members of a Parish, but of a Diocese; their Bishop must be to them the sign that they are one body; their good works must be organized more and more under him, and round him. This is no new theory of mine; it is a historic law. The Priest for the village, the Bishop for the city, has been the natural and necessary organization of the Church in every age; and it was in strict accordance with this historic law, that the London Diocesan Board of Education was founded in 1846, not to override the parochial system, but to do for it what it cannot, in a great city, do for itself; to establish elementary schools (and now I am happy to say, evening schools also) in parishes which were too poor to furnish them for themselves. I, as the son of a London Rector, can bear my testimony to the excellent working of that Board; and it is with grief I hear that, in spite of the vast work which it has done since 1846, and which it is still doing, on an income which is now not 300 pounds a year--proving thereby how cheaply and easily your work may be done when it is done in the right way--it is with grief, I say, that I hear that it is more and more neglected by the religious public. With grief: but not with surprise. For the religious public, even the Church portion of it, has of late been more and more inclined to undervalue the organization and the teaching of the Church of England, and to supply its place with nostrums, borrowed from those denominations who disagree with the Church, alike in their doctrines of what man should be, and of what God is. How have their energies, their zeal, their money (for zealous they are, and generous too) been frittered away! But I will not particularize, lest I hurt the feelings of better people than myself, by holding up their good works to the ridicule of those who do us no good works at all. But I entreat them to look at their own work; to look at the vastness of its expense, compared with the smallness of its results; and then to ask themselves, whether the one cause of their failure--for failures I must call too many of the religious movements of this day, in spite of their own loud self-laudations--whether, I say, one cause of these failures may not be, that the religious world is throwing itself into anything and everything novel and exciting, rather than into the simple and unobtrusive work of teaching little children their Catechism, that they may go home as angels of God and missionaries of Christ, teaching their parents in turn as they have been taught themselves, and so awakening that sacred family life, without which there can be no sound Christianity. I know well that there has been much work done in the right direction; but when I look at the ugly fact, that the population of London is increasing far faster than its schools; that in 25 of the poorest parishes thereof there are now nearly 60,000 children who go to no school at all; and that the proportion of scholars to the population is lower in Middlesex than in almost any county in England, while the proportion of crime is highest; I cannot but sigh over the thousands which I see squandered yearly on rash novelties by really pious and generous souls, and cry, Ah, that one-fourth, one-tenth of it all had been spent in the plain work of helping elementary schools; I cannot but call on all London churchmen of the plain old school, to stand by the organization and the doctrines of the Church to which they belong; to rally in this matter round their bishop; and work for him, and with him. And now, there may be some here who will ask, scornfully enough, And do you talk of nostrums? and then, after confessing that the masses are hungering for the bread of life, offer them nothing but your own nostrum, the Catechism? Yes, my friends, I do. I know that the Church Catechism is not the bread of life. Neither, I beg you to remember, is any other Catechism, or doctrine, or tract, or sermon, or book or anything else whatsoever. Christ is the Bread of Life. But how shall they know Christ, unless they be taught what Christ is; and how can they be taught what Christ is, unless the conception of him which is offered them be true? And, I say, that the Catechism does give a true conception of Christ; and more, a far truer one--I had almost said, an infinitely truer--than any which I have yet seen in these realms: that from the Catechism a child may learn who God is, who Christ is, who he himself is, what are his relation and duty to God, what are his relation and duty to his neighbours, to his country, and to the whole human race, far better than from any document of the kind of which I am aware. I know well the substitutes for the Catechism which are becoming more and more fashionable; the limitations, the explainings away, the non-natural and dishonest interpretations, which are more and more applied to it when it is used; and I warn you, that those substitutes for, and those defacements of, the Catechism, will be no barrier against an outburst of fanaticism, did one arise; nay, that many of them would directly excite it; and prove, when too late, that instead of feeding the masses with the bread of life, which should preserve them, soul and body, some persons had been feeding them with poison, which had maddened them, soul and body. But I see no such danger in the Catechism. I see in the Catechism; in its freedom alike from sentimental horror and sentimental raptures; its freedom alike from slavish terror, and from Pharisaic assurance; a guarantee that those who learn it will learn something of that sound religion, sober, trusty, cheerful, manful, which may be seen still, thank God, in country Church folk of the good old school; and which will, in the day of trial, be proof against the phantoms of a diseased conscience, and the ravings of spiritual demagogues. And therefore I preach gladly for this institution; therefore I urge strongly its claims on you, whom I am bound to suppose honest Churchmen, because the fact of its being a Diocesan Board of Education is, at least in this diocese, a guarantee that the schools which it supports will teach their children, honestly and literally, the Catechism of the Church of England, which may God preserve! Not that I expect it to teach only that. I take for granted, that that will be its primary object, the guarantee that all the rest is well done: but I know that much more than that must be done; that much more will be done, even unintentionally. For, shall I--I trust that I shall not--make a too fanciful application of the last fact recorded of this great miracle, if I bid you find in it a fresh source of hope in your work? 'And they took up of the fragments which were left seven baskets full.' The plain historic fact is, that not only do the seven loaves feed 4,000, but that what they leave, and are about to throw away, far exceeds the original supply. I believe the fact: I ask you to consider why it was recorded? Surely, like all facts in the gospels, to teach us more of the character of Christ, which (a fact too often forgotten in these days) is the character of God. To teach us that he is an utterly bountiful God. That as in him there is no weakness, nor difficulty, so in him is no grudging, no parsimony. That he is not only able, but willing, to give exceeding abundantly, beyond all that we can ask or think. That there is a magnificence in God and in God's workings, which ought to fill us with boundless hope, if we are but fellow-workers with God. You see that magnificence in the seeming prodigality of nature; in the prodigality which creates a thousand beautiful species of butterfly, where a single plain one would have sufficed; in the prodigality which creates a thousand acorns, only one of which is destined to grow into an oak. Everywhere in the kingdom of nature it shows itself; believe that it exists as richly in the higher kingdom of grace. Yes. Believe, that whenever you begin to work according to God's law and God's will, let your means seem as inadequate as they may, not only will your work multiply, as by miracle, under your hands; but the very fragments of it, which you are inclined to neglect and overlook, will form in time a heap of unexpected treasure. Plans which you have thrown aside, because they seemed to fail, details which seemed to encumber you, accessory work which formed no part of your original plan, all will be of use to some one, somehow, somewhere. You began, for instance, by wishing to educate the masses of London; you are educating over and above, indirectly, thousands who never saw London. You began by wishing to teach them spiritual truth; you have been drawn on to give them an excellent secular education besides. You intended to make them live as good Christians here at home. But since you began, the interpenetration of town and country by railroads, and the rush of emigrants to our colonies, have widened infinitely the sphere of your influence; and you are now teaching them also to live as useful men in the farthest corners of these isles, and in far lands beyond the seas, to become educated emigrants, loyal colonists; to raise, by their example, rude settlers, and ruder savages; and so, the very fragments of your good work, without your will or intent, will bless thousands of whom you never heard, and help to sow the seeds of civilization and Christianity, wherever the English flag commands Justice, and the English Church preaches Love. SERMON XI. BLESSING AND CURSING (Preached at the Chapel Royal, Whitehall, Ash Wednesday, 1860.) Deuteronomy xxviii. 15. It shall come to pass, if thou wilt not hearken unto the voice of the Lord thy God, to observe to do all his commandments and his statutes which I command thee this day; that all these curses shall come upon thee, and overtake thee. Many good people are pained by the Commination Service which we have just heard read. They dislike to listen to it. They cannot say 'Amen' to its awful words. It seems to them to curse men; and their conscience forbids them to join in curses. To imprecate evil on any living being seems to them unchristian, barbarous, a relic of dark ages and dark superstitions. But does the Commination Service curse men? Are these good people (who are certainly right in their horror of cursing) right in the accusations which they bring against it? Or have they fallen into a mistake as to the meaning of the service, owing, it may be supposed, to that carelessness about the exact use of words, that want of accurate and critical habits of mind, which is but too common among religious people at the present day? I cannot but think that they mistake, when they say that the Commination Service curses men. For to curse a man, is to pray and wish that God may become angry with him, and may vent his anger on the man by punishing him. But I find no such prayer and wish in any word of the Commination Service. Its form is not, 'Cursed _be_ he that doeth such and such things,' but 'Cursed _is_ he that doeth them.' Does this seem to you a small difference? A fine-drawn question of words? Is it, then, a small difference whether I say to my fellow- man, I hope and pray that you may be stricken with disease, or whether I say, You are stricken with disease, whether you know it or not. I warn you of it, and I warn you to go to the physician? For so great, and no less, is the difference. And if any one shall say, that it is very probable that the authors of the Liturgy were not conscious of this distinction; but that they meant by cursing what priests in most ages have meant by it; I must answer, that it is dealing them most hard and unfair measure, to take for granted that they were as careless about words as we are; that they were (like some of us) so ignorant of grammar as not to know the difference between the indicative and the imperative mood; and to assume this, in order to make them say exactly what they do _not_ say, and to impute to them a ferocity of which no hint is given in their Commination Service. But some will say, Granted that the authors of the Commination Service did not wish evil to sinners--granted that they did not long to pray, with bell, book, and candle, that they might be tormented for ever in Gehenna--granted that they did not desire to burn their bodies on earth; those words are still dark and unchristian. They could only be written by men who believed that God hates sinners, that his will is to destroy them on earth, and torture them for ever after death. We may impute, alas! what motives and thoughts we choose, in the face of our Lord's own words, Judge not, and ye shall not be judged. But we shall not be fair and honest in imputing, unless we first settle what these men meant, in the words which they have actually written. What did they mean by 'cursed' is the question. And that we can only answer by the context of the Commination Service. And that again we can only answer by seeing what it means in the Bible, which the Reformers profess to follow in all their writings. Now, what does the Bible mean by a curse, and cursing?--For we are bound to believe, in all fairness, that the Reformers meant the same, and neither more nor less. The text, I think, tells us plainly enough. We know that its words came true. We know that the Jews _did_ perish out of their native land, as the Author of this book foretold, in consequence of doing that against which Moses warned them. We know also that they did not perish by any miraculous intervention of Providence: but simply as any other nation would have perished; by profligacy, internal weakness, civil war, and, at last, by foreign conquest. We know that their destruction was the natural consequence of their own folly. Why are we to suppose that the prophet meant anything but that? He foretells the result. Why are we to suppose that he did not foresee the means by which that result would happen? Why are we, in the name of all justice, to impute to him an expectation of miraculous interferences, about which he says no word? The curse which he foretold was the natural consequence of the sins of the nation. Why are we not to believe that he considered it as such? Why are we not to believe that the Bible meaning of a curse, is simply the natural ill-consequence of men's own ill-actions? I believe that if you will apply the same rule to other places of Scripture, you will have reason to reverence the letter and the Spirit of Scripture more and more, and will free your minds from many a superstitious and magical fancy, which will prevent you alike from understanding the Bible and the Commination Service. The Book of Deuteronomy, like the rest of Moses' laws, says nothing whatever about the life to come. It says, that sin is to be punished, and virtue rewarded, in this life; and the Commination Service, when it quotes the Book of Deuteronomy, means so, so I presume, likewise. Indeed, if we look at the very remarkable, and most invaluable address which the Commination Service contains, we shall find its author saying the same thing, in the very passages which are to some minds most offensive. For even in this life the door of mercy may be shut, and we may cry in vain for mercy, when it is the time for justice. This is not merely a doctrine: it is a fact; a common, patent fact. Men do wrong, and escape, again and again, the just punishment of their deeds; but how often there are cases in which a man does not escape; when he is filled with the fruit of his own devices, and left to the misery which he has earned; when the covetous and dishonest man ruins himself past all recovery; when the profligate is left in a shameful old age, with worn-out body and defiled mind, to rot into an unhonoured grave; when the hypocrite who has tampered with his conscience is left without any conscience at all. They have chosen the curse, and the curse is come upon them to the uttermost. So it is. Is the Commination service uncharitable, is the preacher uncharitable, when they tell men so? No more so, than the physician is uncharitable, when he says,--'If you go on misusing thus your lungs, or your digestion, you will ruin them past all cure.' Is God to be blamed because this is a fact? Why then because the other is a fact likewise? Now if this be, as I believe, the doctrine of the commination service; if this be, as I believe, the message of Ash-Wednesday, it is one which is quite free from superstition or cruelty: but it is a message more disagreeable, and more terrible too, than any magical imprecations of harm to the sinner could bring. More disagreeable. For which is more galling to human pride, to be told,--Sin is certainly a clever, and politic, and successful trade, as far as this world is concerned. It is only in the next world, or in the case of rare and peculiar visitations and judgments in this world, that it will harm you? Or to be told,--Sin is no more clever, politic, or successful here, than hereafter. The wrong-doing which looks to you so prudent is folly. You, man of the world as you may think yourself, are simply, as often as you do wrong, blind, ignorant, suicidal. You are your own curse; your acts are their own curse. The injury to your own character and spirit, the injury to your fellow-creatures, which will again re-act on you,--these are the curses of God, which you will feel some day too heavy to be borne. And which is more terrible? To tell a man, that God will judge and curse him by unexpected afflictions, or at least by casting him into Gehenna in the world to come: or to tell him, 'You are judged already. The curse is on you already?' The first threat he may get rid of, by denying the fact; by saying that God does not generally interfere to punish bad men in this life; that he does not strike them dead, swallow them up; and he may even quote Scripture on his side, and call on Solomon to bear witness how as dieth the fool, so dieth wise man; and that there is one event to the righteous and the wicked. As for the fear of Gehenna, again, after he dies: that is too dim and distant; too unlike anything which he has seen in this life (now that the tortures and Autos da fe of the middle age have disappeared) to frighten him very severely, except in rare moments, when his imagination is highly excited. And even then, he can--in practice he does--look forward to 'making his peace with God' as it is called, at last, and fulfilling Baalam's wish of dying the death of the righteous, after living the life of the wicked. He knows well, too, that when that day comes, he can find--alas! that it should be so--priests and preachers in plenty, of some communion or other, who will give him his viaticum, and bid him depart in peace to that God, who has said that there is no peace to the wicked. But terrible, truly terrible and heart searching for the wrongdoer is the message--God does not curse thee: thou hast cursed thyself. God will not go out of his way to punish thee: thou hast gone out of his way, and thereby thou art punishing thyself, just as, by abusing thy body, thou bringest a curse upon it; so by abusing thy soul. God does not break his laws to punish drunkenness or gluttony. The laws themselves, the laws of nature, the beneficent laws of life, nutrition, growth, and health, they punish thee; and kill by the very same means by which they make alive. And so with thy soul, thy character, thy humanity. God does not break his laws to punish its sins. The laws themselves punish; every fresh wrong deed, and wrong thought, and wrong desire of thine sets thee more and more out of tune with those immutable and eternal laws of the Moral Universe, which have their root in the absolute and necessary character of God himself. All things that he has ordained; the laws of the human body, the laws of the human soul, the laws of society, the laws of all heaven and earth are arrayed against thee; for thou hast arrayed thyself against them. They have not excommunicated thee: thou hast, single-handed, excommunicated thyself. In thine own self-will, thou hast set thyself to try thy strength against God and his whole universe. Dost thou fancy that he needs to interfere with the working of that universe, to punish such a worm as thee? No more than the great mill engine need stop, and the overseer of it interfere with the machinery, if the drunken or careless workman should entangle himself among the wheels. The wheels move on, doing their duty, spinning cloth for the use of man: but the workman who should have worked with them, is entangled among them. He is out of his place; and slowly, but irresistibly, they are grinding him to powder, as the whole universe is grinding thee. Heart-searching, indeed, is such a message; for it will come home, not merely to that very rare character, the absolutely wicked man, the ideal sinner, at whom the preacher too often aims ideal arrows, which vanish in the air: not to him merely will it come home, but to ourselves, to us average human beings, inconsistent, half-formed, struggling lamely and confusedly between good and evil. Oh let us take home with us to-day this belief, the only belief in this matter possible in an age of science, which is daily revealing more and more that God is a God, not of disorder, but of order. Let us take home, I say, the awful belief, that every wrong act of ours does of itself sow the seeds of its own punishment; and that those seeds will assuredly bear fruit, now, here in this life. Let us believe that God's judgments, though they will culminate, no doubt, hereafter in one great day, and "one divine far-off event, to which the whole creation moves," are yet about our path and about our bed, now, here, in this life. Let us believe, that if we are to prepare to meet our God, we must do it now, here in this life, yea and all day long; for he is not far off from any one of us, seeing that in him we live, and move, and have our being; and can never go from his presence, never flee from his spirit. Let us believe that God's good laws, and God's good order, are in themselves and of themselves, the curse and punishment of every sin of ours; and that Ash-Wednesday, returning year after year, whether we be glad or sorry, good or evil, bears witness to that most awful and yet most blessed fact. My friends, this is the preacher's Ash-Wednesday's message: but, thanks be to God, it is not all. It is written--'If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss: Oh Lord, who may abide it? For there is mercy with thee; therefore shalt thou be feared.' It is written--'On whomsoever this stone shall fall, it shall grind him to powder:' but it is written too--'Whosoever shall fall on this stone shall be broken;' and again, 'The broken and the contrite heart, O God, thou shall not despise.' There is such a thing as pardon; pardon full and free, for the sake of the precious blood of Christ. Lent may be a time of awe and of shame: but it is not a time of despair. Meanwhile remember this; that God has set before you blessing and cursing, and that you may turn your life and God's whole universe, as you will, either into that blessing or into that curse. SERMON XII. WORK (Twenty-fourth Sunday after Trinity.) Proverbs xiv. 23. In all labour there is profit. I fear there are more lessons in the Book of Proverbs than most of us care to learn. There is a lesson in every verse of it, and a shrewd one. Certain I am, that for a practical, business man, who has to do his duty and to make his way in this world, there is no guide so safe as these same Proverbs of Solomon. In _this_ world, I say; for they say little about the world to come. Their doctrine is, that what is good for the next world, is good for this; that he who wishes to go out of this world happily, must first go through this world wisely; and more, that he who wishes to go through this world happily, must likewise go through it wisely. The righteous, says Solomon, shall be recompensed in the earth, and not merely at the end of judgment hereafter: much more the wicked and the sinner. That is the doctrine of the Proverbs; that men do, to a very great extent, earn for themselves their good or their evil fortunes, and are filled with the fruit of their own devices; and it is that doctrine which makes them the best of text-books for the practical man. For the Proverbs do not look on religion as a thing to be kept out of our daily dealings, and thought of only on Sundays: they look on true religion, which is to obey God, as a thing which mixes itself up with all the cares and business of this mortal life, this work- day world; and, therefore, they are written in work-day language; in homely words taken from the common doings of this mortal life, as our Lord's parables are. And, like the most simple of those parables, the most simple of the proverbs have often the very deepest meaning. 'In all labour there is profit.' Whatsoever is worth doing, is worth doing well. It is always worth while to take pains. In another proverb, homely enough--but if it be in the Bible, it is not too homely for us--'Where no oxen are, the crib is clean,' Solomon says the same thing as in the text. He says, 'Where no oxen are, the farmer is saved trouble; the clearing away of dirt and refuse; and all the labour required to keep his cattle in condition: but all that trouble,' Solomon says, if a man will but undergo it, will repay itself; 'for much increase is in the strength of the ox.' For the ox, in that country, as in most parts of the world now, is the beast used for ploughing, and for all the work of the farm. Now, herein, I think, Solomon gives us a lesson which holds good through all matters of life. That it is a short-sighted mistake to avoid taking trouble; for God has so well ordered this world, that industry will always repay itself. No doubt it is much easier and pleasanter for the savage to scratch the seed into the ground with some rude wooden tool, and sit idle till the grain ripens: much easier and pleasanter, than to breed and break in beasts, and to labour all the year round at the different duties of a well-ordered farm: but here is the mighty difference; that the savage, growing only enough for himself, is in continual danger of famine, he and all his tribe; while the civilized farmer, producing many times more than he needs for himself, gains food, comfort, and safety, not only for himself, but for many other human beings. The savage has an easy life enough, if that be any gain: but it is a life of poverty, uncertainty, danger of starvation. The civilized man works hard and heavily, using body and mind more in one month than the savage does in the whole year: but he gains in return a life of safety, comfort, and continually increasing prosperity. This is Solomon's lesson: and be sure it holds good, not only of tilling the ground, but of all other labours, all other duties, to which God may call us. 'Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do,' says Solomon, 'do it with all thy might.' God has set thee thy work; then fulfil it. Fill it full. Throw thy whole heart and soul into it. Do it carefully, accurately, completely. It will be better for thee, and for thy children after thee. All neglect, carelessness, slurring over work, is a sin; a sin against God, who has called us to our work; a sin against our country and our neighbours, who ought to profit by our work; and a sin against ourselves also, for we (as I shall shew you soon) ought to be made wiser and better men by our work. Oh, if there is one rule above another which I should like to bring home to young men and women setting out in life, it is this--_Take pains_. Take trouble. Whatever you do, do thoroughly. Whatever you begin, finish. It may not seem to be worth your while at the moment, to be so very painstaking, so very exact. In after years, you will find that it was worth your while; that it has _paid_ you, by training your character and soul; paid you, by giving you success in life; paid you, by giving you the respect and trust of your fellowmen; paid you, by helping you towards a good conscience, and enabling you in old age to look back, and say, I have been of use upon the earth; I leave this world, according to my small powers, somewhat better than I found it: instead of having to look back, as too many have, upon opportunities thrown away, plans never carried out, talents wasted, a whole life a failure, for want of taking pains. Why do I say these things to you? To persuade you to work? Thank God, there is no need of that, for you are Englishmen; and it has pleased God to put into the hearts of Englishmen a love of work, and a power of work, which has helped to make this little island one of the greatest nations upon earth. No, thanks be to God, I say, there is no need to bid you work. What I ask you to do, is to look upon your work as an honourable calling, and as a blessing to yourselves, not merely as a hard necessity, a burden which must be borne merely to keep you from starvation. It is not that, my friends, but far more than that. For what is more honourable than to be of use? And in all labour, as Solomon says, there is profit; it is all of use. And all trade, manufacture, tillage, even of the smallest, all management and ordering, whether of an estate, a parish, or even of the pettiest office in it, all is honourable, because all is of use; all helping forward, more or less, the well-being of God's human creatures, and of the whole world. And therefore all is worth taking trouble over, worth doing as diligently and honestly as possible, in sure trust that it will bring its reward with it. Why not? Almsgiving is blessed in God's sight, and charity to the poor; and God will repay it: but is not useful labour blessed in his sight also? and shall he not repay it? Will he not say of it, as well as of almsgiving, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these little ones, ye have done it unto me?' We may trust so, my friends; indeed, I may say more than, 'We may trust.' We can see; see that industry has its reward. By increasing the well-being of others, and the safety of others, you increase your own. So it is, and so it should be; for God has knit us all together as brethren, members of one family of God; and the well-being of each makes up the well-being of all, so that sooner or later, if one member rejoice, all the others rejoice with it. But more. And here I speak to young people; for their elders, I doubt not, have found it out long since for themselves. Work, hard work, is a blessing to the soul and character of the man who works. Young men may not think so. They may say, What more pleasant than to have one's fortune made for one, and have nothing before one than to enjoy life? What more pleasant than to be idle: or, at least, to do only what one likes, and no more than one likes? But they would find themselves mistaken. They would find that idleness makes a man restless, discontented, greedy, the slave of his own lusts and passions, and see too late, that no man is more to be pitied than the man who has nothing to do. Yes; thank God every morning, when you get up, that you have something to do that day which must be done, whether you like or not. Being forced to work, and forced to do your best, will breed in you temperance and self-control, diligence and strength of will, cheerfulness and content and a hundred virtues which the idle man will never know. The monks in old time found it so. When they shut themselves up from the world to worship God in prayers and hymns, they found that, without working, without hard work either of head or hands, they could not even be good men. The devil came and tempted them, they said, as often as they were idle. An idle monk's soul was lost, they used to say; and they spoke truly. Though they gave up a large portion of every day, and of every night also, to prayer and worship, yet they found they could not pray aright without work. And 'working is praying,' said one of the holiest of them that ever lived; and he spoke truth, if a man will but do his work for the sake of duty, which is for the sake of God. And so they worked, and worked hard, not only at teaching the children of the poor, but at tilling the ground, clearing the forests, building noble churches, which stand unto this day; none among them were idle at first; and as long as they worked, they were good men, and blessings to all around them, and to this land of England, which they brought out of heathendom to the knowledge of Christ and of God; and it was not till they became rich and idle, and made other people work for them and till their great estates, that they sank into sin and shame, and became despised and hated, and at last swept off the face of the land. Lastly, my friends, if you wish to see how noble a calling Work is, consider God himself; who, although he is perfect, and does not need, as we do, the training which comes by work, yet works for ever with and through his Son, Jesus Christ, who said, 'My Father worketh hitherto, and I work.' Yes; think of God, who, though he needs nothing, and therefore need not work to benefit himself, yet does work, simply because, though he needs nothing, all things need him. Think of God as a king working for ever for the good of his subjects, a Father working for ever for the good of his children, for ever sending forth light and life and happiness to all created things, and ordering all things in heaven and earth by a providence so perfect, that not a sparrow falls to the ground without his knowledge, and the very hairs of your head are all numbered. And then think of yourselves, called to copy God, each in his station, and to be fellow-workers with God for the good of each other and of yourselves. Called to work, because you are made in God's image, and redeemed to be the children of God. Not like the brutes, who cannot work, and can therefore never improve themselves, or the earth around them; but like children of God, whom he has called to the high honour of subduing and replenishing this earth which he has given you, and of handing down by your labour blessings without number to generations yet unborn. And when you go back, one to his farm, another to his shop, another to his daily labour, say to yourselves, This, too, as well as my prayers in church, is my heavenly Father's command; in doing this my daily duty honestly and well, I can do Christ's will, copy Christ, approve myself to Christ; single-eyed and single-handed, doing my work as unto God, and not unto men; and so hear, I may hope at last, Christ's voice saying to me, 'Well done, thou good and faithful servant. I set thee not to govern kingdoms, to lead senates, to command armies, to preach the gospel, to build churches, to give large charities, to write learned books, to do any great work in the eyes of men. I set thee simply to buy and sell, to plough and reap like a Christian man, and to bring up thy family thereby, in the fear of God and in the faith of Christ. And thou hast done thy duty more or less; and, in doing thy duty, has taught thyself deeper and sounder lessons about thy life, character, and immortal soul, than all books could teach thee. And now thou hast thy reward. Thou hast been faithful over a few things: I will make thee ruler over many things. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' SERMON XIII. FALSE PROPHETS (Eighth Sunday after Trinity.) Matthew vii. 16. Ye shall know them by their fruits. People are apt to overlook, I think, the real meaning of these words. They do so, because they part them from the words which go just before them, about false prophets. They consider that 'fruit' means only a man's conduct,--that a man is known by his conduct. That professions are worth nothing, and practice worth everything. That the good man, after all, is the man who does right; and the bad man, the man who does wrong. Excellent doctrine; and always needed. God grant that we may never forget it. But the text surely does not quite mean that. 'Fruit' here does not mean a man's own conduct, but the conduct of those whom he teaches. For see,--our Lord is talking of prophets; that is preachers, who set up to preach the Word of God, in the name of God. 'Beware,' he says, 'of false prophets. By their fruits ye shall know them. By what you gather from them,' he says. 'For do men gather grapes off thorns, or figs off thistles?' Now what is a preacher's fruit? Surely the fruit of his preaching; and that is, not what he does himself, but what he makes you do. His fruit is what you gather from him; and what you gather from him is, not merely the notions and doctrines which he puts into your head, but the way of life in which he makes you live. What he makes you do, is the fruit which you get from him. Does he make you a better man, or does he not? that is the question. That is the test whether he is a false prophet, or a true one; whether he is preaching to you the eternal truth of God, or man's inventions and devil's lies. Does he make you a better man? Not--Does he make you feel better? but--Does he make you behave better? There is too much preaching in the world which makes men _feel_ better--so much better, indeed, that they go about like the Pharisee, thanking God that they are not as other men, before they have any sound reason to believe that they are _not_ as other men; because they live just such lives as other men do, as far as respectability, and the fear of hurting their custom or their character, allow them to do. They have their prophets, their preachers who teach them; and by their fruits in these men, the preachers may be known, by those who have eyes to see, and hearts to understand. Therefore beware of false prophets. There are too many of them in the world now, as there were in our Lord's time; men who go about with the name of God on their lips, and the Bible in their hands, in sheep's clothing outwardly; but inwardly ravening wolves. In sheep's clothing, truly, smooth and sanctimonious, meek, and sleek. But wolves at heart; wolves in cunning and slyness, as you will find, if you have to deal with them; wolves in fierceness and cruelty, as you will find if you have to differ from them; wolves in greediness and covetousness, and care of their own interest and their own pockets. And wolves, too, in hardness of heart; in the hard, dark, horrible, unjust doctrines, which they preach with a smile upon their lips, not merely in sermons, but in books and tracts innumerable, making out the Heavenly Father, the God whose name is Love and Justice, to be even such a one as themselves. Wolves, too, in their habit of hunting in packs, each keeping up his courage by listening to the howl of his fellows. They may come in the name of God. They may tell you that they preach the Gospel; that no one but they preach the Gospel. But by their fruits ye shall know them. Will they make you better men? Is it not written, 'The disciple is not above his master?' What will you learn from them, but to be like them? And the more you take in their doctrines, the more like them you will be; for is it not written, 'He that is perfect shall be as his master.' Can they lead you to eternal life? Is it not written, 'If the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch?' But by their fruits ye shall know them. By their fruits in the world at large, if you have eyes to see it. By their fruits in your own lives, if you give yourselves up to listen to their false doctrines, for you will surely find, that, in the first place, they will not make you honest men. They will not teach you to be just and true in all your dealings. They will not teach you common morality. No, my friends, it is most sad to see, how much preaching and tract-writing there is in England now, which talks loud about Protestant doctrine, and Gospel truths, while all the fruit of it seems to be, to teach men to abuse the Pope, and to fancy that every one is going to hell, who does not agree with their opinions; while their own lives, their own conduct, their own morality, seems not improved one whit by all this preaching. And yet men like such preaching, and run to hear it. Of course they do; for it leaves them to behave all the week as if there was no Law of God, if only they will go on Sundays, and listen to what is called, I fear most untruly, the Gospel of God; leaves them, on condition of belonging to some particular party, and listening to some favourite preacher, free to give way to their passions, their spite, their meanness; to grind their servants, cheat their masters, trick their customers, adulterate their goods, and behave in money-matters as if all was fair in business, and the Gospel of Jesus Christ had nothing to do with common honesty; and all the while, Compound for sins they are inclined to. By damning those they have no mind to. My friends, these things ought not so to be. There is a Gospel of God, which preaches full forgiveness for the sake of Jesus Christ, to all who turn from their sins. But there is a Law of God, likewise, which executes sure vengeance against all who do _not_ turn from their sins; be their professions as high, or their doctrines as correct as they may. A law which is in the Gospel itself, and says, by the mouth of the Apostle St. John, 'Little children, let no man deceive you: he that _doeth_ righteousness is righteous, even as God is righteous'--he--and not he who expects to be saved by listening to some false preacher who teaches his congregation how to go to heaven without having thought one heavenly thought, or done one heavenly-deed. Yes. There is an eternal law of God, which people are forgetting, I often fear, more and more, in England just now. I sometimes dread, lest we should be sinking into that hideous state of which the old Hebrew prophet speaks--'The prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests bear rule by their means; and my people love to have it so: and what will ye do in the end thereof?' What, indeed; if people are to be taught more and more, that religion is a matter merely of doctrines and fancies and feelings, and has nothing to do with common morality, and common honesty, and common self-control and improvement of character and conduct? My friends, in these dangerous days, for dangerous they truly are-- like those of the Scribes and Pharisees of old; days in which bigotry and hardness of heart, hypocrisy and lip-profession stalk triumphant; days, in which men, like the Scribes and Pharisees of old, boast of the Bible, worship the Bible, think they have eternal life in the Bible, spend vast sums every year in spreading the Bible; and yet will neither read the Bible honestly, nor obey its plain commands--In such days as these, what prophet shall we fall back upon? What preacher shall we trust? We can at least trust our Bible. We can read it honestly, if only there be in us the honest and good heart; we can obey its plain commands, if only we hunger and thirst after righteousness, and desire really to become good men. Read your Bibles for yourselves with a single eye, and with a pure heart which longs to know God's will because it longs to _do_ God's will; and you will need no false prophets, under pretence of explaining it to you, to draw you away from the Holy Catholic faith into which you were baptized. But if you must have a commentary on the Bible; if you must have some book to give you a general notion of what the Bible teaches you, and what it expects of you; go to the prayer-book. Go to the good old Catechism which you learnt at school. There, though not from the popular preachers, you will learn that God is just and true, loving and merciful, and no respecter of persons. There you will learn, that Christ died not for a few elect, but for the sins of the whole world. There you will learn that in baptism, by God's free grace, and not by any experiences or feelings of your own, you were made children of God, members of Christ, and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven. There you will learn, that the elect whom the Holy Spirit sanctifies, are not merely a favoured few, but _you_-- every baptized man, woman, and child. That the Holy Spirit is with you, every one of you, to sanctify you, if you will open your hearts to his gracious inspirations. And there you will learn what sanctification really means. Not a few fancies and feelings about which any man can deceive himself, and any man, also, deceive his neighbours. No, that sanctification means being made holy, righteous, virtuous, good. That sanctification means 'To love your neighbour as yourself, and to do to all men as they should do unto you--to love, honour, and succour your father and mother'--Shall I go on? Or do you all know the plain old duty to your neighbours, which stands in the Church Catechism. If you do, thank God that you were taught it in your youth. Read it over and over again. Think over it. Pray to God to give you grace to act upon it, and to shew the fruit of it in your lives. And then, 'By its fruits you shall know it.' By its fruits you shall know the virtue of the Catechism, and of the great and good men, true prophets of God, who wrote that Catechism. Yes. Cling to that Catechism, even if it convinces you of many sins, and makes you sadly ashamed of yourselves again and again; for, believe me, it will prove your best safeguard in doctrine, your best teacher in practice, in these dangerous days-- days in which every man who believes that right is right, and wrong is wrong, has need to pray with all his heart--'From all false doctrine, heresy, and schism; from hardness of heart, and contempt of thy word and commandments; good Lord, deliver us!' SERMON XIV. THE ROCK OF AGES (Ninth Sunday after Trinity.) 1 Corinthians x. 4. They drank of that Spiritual Rock which followed them; and that Rock was Christ. St. Paul has been speaking to the Corinthians about the Holy Communion. In this text, St. Paul is warning the Corinthians about it. He says, 'You may be Christian men; you may have the means of grace; you may come to the Communion and use the means of grace; and yet you may become castaways.' St. Paul himself says, in the very verse before, 'I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest . . . . I myself should be a castaway.' Look, he says then, 'at the old Jews in the wilderness. They all partook of God's grace: but they were not all saved. They were all baptized to Moses in the cloud and in the sea. They all ate the same spiritual meat, the manna from heaven. They all drank the same spiritual drink, the water out of the rock in Horeb. And yet with many of them God was not well pleased;' for they were overthrown--their corpses were scattered far and wide--in the wilderness. The spiritual meat and the spiritual drink could not keep them alive, if they sinned, and deserved death. 'So,' says St. Paul, 'with you. You are members of Christ's body. The cup of blessing which we bless, is the communion of the blood of Christ; the bread which we break, is the communion of the body of Christ:' but beware, they will not save you, if you sin. Nothing will save you, if you sin. If you lust after evil things, as those old Jews did; if you are idolaters, as they were; if you are profligates, as they were; if you tempt Christ, as they did; if you murmur against God, as they murmured, you will be destroyed like them. Note here two things. First, that St. Paul says that we really receive Christ in the Holy Communion. He does _not_ say, as some do, that the Communion is merely a remembrance of Christ's death. He says that the faithful verily and indeed receive Christ's body and blood in the Sacrament. He says so, distinctly, plainly, literally; and if that be not true, his whole argument goes for nothing, and will not stand. The Jews, he says, drank of the spiritual Rock which followed them, and that Rock was Christ; and so he says to you. But that did not save them from the punishment of their sins, when they went and sinned afresh: neither will it save you. But now--What are these strange words which St. Paul uses? These old Jews drank of the spiritual Rock which followed them, and that Rock was Christ? Where in the Old Testament do we read of the Rock following them? We read of Moses striking the rock in Horeb, at the beginning of their wanderings in the wilderness; but not of its following them afterwards. St. Paul is here using a beautiful old tradition of the Rabbis, that the rock which Moses struck in Horeb followed the Jews through all their forty years' wanderings, and that on every Sabbath day when they stopped, it stopped also, and the elders called to it, 'Flow out, O fountain,' and the water flowed. A beautiful old story, which St. Paul turns into an allegory, to teach, as by a picture, the deepest and the highest truth. Whether that rock followed them or not, he says, there was One who did follow them, from whom flowed living water; and that Rock is Christ. Christ followed them. Christ the creator, the preserver, the inspirer, the light, the life, the guide of men, and of all the universe. It was to Christ they owed their deliverance from Egypt; to Christ they owed their knowledge of God, and of the law of God, to Christ they owed whatever reason, justice, righteousness, good government, there was among them. And to Christ we owe the same. The rock was a type of him from whom flows living water. As he himself said on earth, 'Whosoever drinketh of the water which I shall give him, shall never thirst; but the water which I shall give him shall be in him a well of water, springing up to everlasting life.' Just as the manna also was a type of him, as he himself declared, when the Jews talked to him of the manna; 'Our fathers did eat manna in the desert, as it is written, He gave them bread from heaven to eat.' Then Jesus said to them, 'Verily, verily, I say unto you, Moses gave you not that bread from heaven.' No: but only a type and picture of it. 'My Father giveth you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world. . . . I am that bread of life.' My friends, herein is a great mystery. Something of what it means, however, we may learn from that wise and good Jew, Philo, who was St. Paul's teacher according to the flesh, before he became a Christian; and who himself was so near to the kingdom of God, that St. Paul often in his epistles uses Philo's very words, putting into them a Christian meaning. And what says he concerning the Rock of living waters? The soul, he says, falls in with a scorpion in the wilderness; and then thirst, which is the thirst of the passions--of the lusts which war in our members--seizes on it; till God sends forth on it the stream of his own perfect wisdom, and causes the changed soul to drink of unchangeable health. For the steep rock is the wisdom of God (by whom he means the Word of God, whom Philo knew not in the flesh, but whom we know, as the Lord Jesus Christ), which, being both sublime and the first of all things; he quarried out of his own powers; and of it he gives drink to the souls which love God; and they, when they have drunk, are filled with the most universal manna. So says Philo, the good Jew, who knew not Christ; and therefore he says only a part of the truth. If you wish to learn the whole truth, you must read St. John's Gospel, and St. Paul's Epistles, especially this very text; and again, the opening of the Epistle to the Ephesians; and again, that most royal passage in the opening of the Colossians, where he speaks of the Everlasting Being of Christ, who is before all things, and by whom all things consist--in whom dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, and in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Therefore he is rightly called the Rock, the Rock of Ages, the Eternal Rock; because on him all things rest, and have rested since the foundation of the world, being made, and kept together, and ruled, and inspired by him alone. Therefore he is rightly called the Rock of living waters; for in him are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, and from him they flow forth freely to all who cry to him in their thirst after truth and holiness. Yes, my friends, by Christ all things live; and therefore, most of all, by Christ our souls live. To be parted from Christ is death. To be joined to Christ and the body of Christ is life. But what life? The life of the soul. And what is the life of the soul? Holiness, righteousness, sanctification, virtue,--call it what pleases you best. I shall call it goodness. That is the only life of the soul. And why? Because it is the life of Christ. That is the only wisdom of the soul. And why? Because it is the mind of Christ. That is the living water. And why? Because it flows eternally from Christ. For who is Christ, but the likeness of God, and the glory of God? And what is the likeness of God, but goodness; and what is the glory of God, but goodness? Therefore Christ is goodness itself, as it is written, 'Now the Lord is that Spirit.' Yes, if you will believe it, Christ, the only-begotten Son, co-equal and co-eternal, is the very and essential goodness of the Father, coming out everlastingly in action and in life, in himself, and in his people, who are his mystical body, filled with the Spirit of him and his Father; who is the Holy Spirit, the spirit of goodness. From Christ, and not from any created being, comes all goodness in man or angel. Comes from Christ? It were more right, and more according to St. Paul's own words, to say, that all goodness _is_ Christ; Christ dwelling in a man, Christ forming himself in a man, little by little, step by step, as he grows in grace, in purity, in self-control, in experience, in knowledge, in wisdom, in strength, in patience, in love, in charity; till he comes to the stature of a perfect man, to the measure of the fulness of Christ. Meanwhile, let the good which a man does be much, or be it little, he must say, 'The good which I do, _I_ do not, but Christ who dwelleth in me.' For in every age of man, it is Christ who is awakening in him the hunger and thirst after righteousness, and then satisfying it with the only thing which can satisfy them, namely, his most blessed self. Yes, believe it. It is Christ in the child which makes it speak the truth; Christ in the child which makes it shrink from whatever it has been told is wrong. It is Christ in the young man, which fills him with lofty aspirations, hopes of bettering the world around him, hopes of training his soul to be all that it can be, and of putting forth all his powers in the service of Christ. It is Christ in the middle-aged man, which makes him strong in good works, labouring patiently, wisely, and sturdily; so that having drunk of the living waters himself, they may flow out of him again to others in good deeds; a fountain springing up in him to an eternal life of goodness. It is Christ in the old man, which makes him look on with calm content while his own body and mind decay, knowing that the kingdom of God cannot decay; for Christ is ruling it in righteousness; and all will be well with him, and with his children after him, and with all mankind, and all heaven and earth, if they themselves only will it, long after he has been gathered to his fathers. Yes, such a man knows in whom he has believed. He knows that the spiritual Rock has been following him through all his wanderings in this weary world; and that that Rock is Christ. He can recollect how, again and again, at his Sabbath haltings in his life's journey, it was to him in the Holy Communion as to the Israelites of old in their haltings in the wilderness, when the priests of Jehovah cried to the mystic rock, 'Flow forth, O fountain,' and the waters flowed. So can he recollect how, in Holy Communion, there flowed into his soul streams of living water, the water of life, quenching that thirst of his soul, which no created thing could slake; the water of life; of Christ's life, which is the light of men, shewing them what they ought to be and do; the life which is the light; the life which is according to the eternal and divine reason; the life of wisdom; which is the life of love; which is the life of justice; which is the life of Christ; which is the life of God. But if these things are so--and so they are, for Christ has said it, St. Paul has said it, St. John has said it--but if these things are so, will they not teach us much about Holy Communion, how we may receive it worthily, and how unworthily? If what we receive in the Communion be Christ himself, the good Christ who is to make us good; then how can we receive it worthily, if we do not hunger and thirst after goodness? If we do not come thither, longing to be made good, and sanctified, then we come for the wrong thing, to the wrong place. We are like those Corinthians who came to the Lord's supper not to be made good men, but to exalt their own spiritual self-conceit; and so only ate and drank their own damnation, not discerning the Lord's body, that it was a holy body, a body of righteousness and goodness. But if we come hungering and thirsting to be made good men, then we come for the right thing, to the right place. Then we need not stay away, because we feel ourselves intolerably burdened with many sins; that will be our very reason for coming, that we may be cleansed from our sins--cleansed not only from their guilt, but from their power; and cry, in spirit and in truth, as we kneel at that holy table-- Rock of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in thee; By the water and the blood, From thy riven side which flowed, Be of sin the double cure, Cleanse me from its guilt and power. Yes, from its guilt and from its power also. Let us all pray, each in his own fashion:-- Oh Lamb eternal, beyond all place and time! Oh Lamb slain eternally, before the foundation of the world! Oh Lamb, which liest slain eternally, in the midst of the throne of God! Let the blood of life, which flows from thee, procure me pardon for the past; let the water of life, which flows from thee, give me strength for the future. I come to cast away my own life, my life of self and selfishness, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, that I may live it no more; and to receive thy life, which is created after the likeness of God, in righteousness and true holiness, that I may live it for ever and ever, and find it a well of life springing up in me to everlasting life. Eternal Goodness, make me good like thee. Eternal Wisdom, make me wise like thee. Eternal Justice, make me just like thee. Eternal Love, make me loving like thee. Then I shall hunger no more, and thirst no more; for Thou, O Christ, art all I want; More than all in thee I find; Raise me, fallen; cheer me, faint; Heal me, sick; and lead me, blind. Thou of life the fountain art; Freely let me take of thee; Spring thou up within my heart; Rise to all eternity. Oh come to Holy Communion with the words of that glorious hymn not merely on your lips, but in your hearts; and you will never come amiss. SERMON XV. ANTIPATHIES (Tenth Sunday after Trinity.) 1 Cor. xii. 3, 4, 5, 6. Wherefore, I give you to understand, that no man speaking by the Spirit of God calleth Jesus accursed: and that no man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost. Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit. And there are differences of administrations, but the same Lord. And there are diversities of operations, but it is the same God which worketh all in all. We are to come to the Communion this day in love and charity with all men. But are we in love and charity with all men? I do not mean, are there any persons whom we hate; against whom we bear a spite; whom we should be glad to see in trouble or shame? God forbid, my friends, God forbid. There are, indeed, devil's tempers. And yet more easy for us to keep in the bottom of our hearts, and more difficult to root them out, than we fancy. It is easy enough for us to forgive (in words at least) a man who has injured us. Easy enough to make up our minds that we will not revenge ourselves. Easy enough to determine, even, that we will return good for evil to him, and do him a kindness when we have a chance. Yes, we would not hurt him for the world: but what if God hurt him? What if he hurt himself? What if he lost his money? What if his children turned out ill? What if he made a fool of himself, and came to shame? What if he were found out and exposed, as we fancy that he deserves? Should we be so very sorry? We should not punish him ourselves. No. But do we never catch ourselves thinking whether God may not punish him; thinking of that with a base secret satisfaction; almost hoping for it, at last? Oh if we ever do, God forgive us! If we ever find those devil's thoughts rising in us, let us flee from them as from an adder; flee to the foot of Christ's Cross, to the cross of him who prayed for his murderers, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do; and there cry aloud for the blood of life, which shall cleanse us from the guilt of those wicked thoughts, and for the water of life, which shall cleanse us from the power of them: lest they get the dominion over us, and spring up in us, and spread over our whole hearts; not a well of life, but a well of poison, springing up in us to everlasting damnation. Oh let us pray to him to give us truth in our inward parts; that we may forgive and love, not in word only, but in deed and in truth. I could not help saying this in passing. But it is not what the text is speaking of; not what I want to speak of myself to-day. I want to speak of a matter which is smaller, and not by any means so sinful: and which yet in practice is often more tormenting to a truly tender conscience, because it is more common and more continual. How often, when one examines oneself, whether one be in love and charity with all men, one must recollect that there are many people whom one does not like. I do not mean that one hates them. Not in the least: but they do not suit one. There is something in them which we cannot get on with, as the saying is. Something in their opinions, manners, ways of talking; even--God forgive us--merely in their voice, or their looks, or their dress, which frets us, and gives us what is called an antipathy to them. And one dislikes them; though they never have harmed us, or we them; and we know them, perhaps, to be better people than ourselves. Now, are we in love and charity with these people? I am afraid not. I know one is tempted to answer; but I am afraid the answer is worth very little--Why not? We cannot help it. You cannot expect us to like people who do not suit us: any more than you can expect us to like a beetle or a spider. We know the beetle or the spider will not harm us. We know that they are good in their places, and do good, as all God's creatures are and do; and there is room enough in the world for them and us: but we have a natural dislike to them, and cannot help it; and so with these people. We mean no harm in disliking them. It is natural to us; and why blame us for it. Now what is the mistake here? Saying that it is _natural_ to us. We are not meant to live according to nature, but according to grace; and grace must conquer nature, my friends, if we wish to save our souls alive. It is nature, brute nature, which makes some dogs fly at every strange dog they meet. It is nature, brute nature, which makes a savage consider every strange savage as his enemy, and try to kill him. But unless nature be conquered in that savage, it will end, where following brute nature always ends, in death; and the savages will (as all savages are apt to do) destroy each other off the face of the earth, by continual war and murder. It is brute nature which makes low and ignorant persons hate foreign people, because their dress and language seem strange. But unless that natural feeling had been in most of us conquered by the grace of God, which is the spirit of justice and of love, then England would have remained alone in conceit and ignorance, hated by all the nations; instead of being what, thank God! she is--the Sanctuary of the world; to which all the oppressed of the earth may flee; and find a welcome, and safety, and freedom, and justice, and peace. And so with us, my friends. It is natural, and according to the brute nature of the old Adam, to dislike this person and that, just because they do not suit us. But it is according to grace, and the new Adam, who is the Lord from heaven, to honour all men; to love the brotherhood; to throw away our own private fancies and personal antipathies; and, like the Lord Jesus Christ, copy the all-embracing charity of God. And no one has a right to answer, 'But I must draw the line somewhere.' Thou must not. I am afraid that thou _wilt_, and that I shall, too, God forgive us both! because we are sinful human beings. We may, but we _must_ not, draw a line as to whom we shall endure in charity. For Christ draws no line. Is it not written, 'No man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.' Is not the Spirit of Christ in a Christian man, unless he be a reprobate? and who is reprobate, we know not, and dare not try to know; for it is written, 'Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned.' But what has the text to do with all this? My friends, is not this just what the text is telling us? I said this moment, that the Spirit of Christ was in a Christian man, unless he be a reprobate. And the text says further, that there are diversities of gifts in Christian men: but the same spirit in all of them. Yes: people _will_ be different one from another. There are diversities of gifts. Differences in talents, in powers, in character, in kinds of virtue and piety; so that you shall find no two good men, no two useful men, like each other. But there is the same Spirit. The same Spirit of God is in each, though bearing different fruit in each. And there are differences of administrations, of offices, in God's kingdom. God sets one man to do one work, and another to do another: but it is the same Lord who puts each man in his place, and shows him his work, and gives him power to do it. And there are diversities of operations, that is, of ways of working; so that if you put any two men to do the same thing, they will most probably do it each in a different way, and yet both do it well. But it is the same God, who is working in them both; the God who works all in all, and has his work done by a thousand different hands, by a thousand different ways. And it is right and good that people should be so different from each other. 'For the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man to profit withal.' To profit, to be of use. If all men were alike, no one could learn from his neighbour. If all mankind were as like each other as a flock of sheep, there would be no more work, no more progress, no more improvement in mankind, than there is in a flock of sheep. Now each man can bring his own little share of knowledge or usefulness into the common stock. Each man has, or ought to have, something to teach his neighbour. Each man can learn something from his neighbour: at least he can learn this--to have patience with his neighbour. To live and let live. To bear with what in him seems odd and disagreeable, trusting that God may have put it there; that God has need of it; that God will make use of it. God makes use of many things which look to us ugly and disagreeable. He makes use of the spider and of the beetle. How much more of our brethren, members of Christ, children of God, inheritors of the kingdom of heaven. Shall they be to us, even if they be odd or disagreeable in some things--shall they be to us as the beetle or the spider, or any other merely natural things? They are men and women, in whom is the Spirit of the living God. And my friends, if they are good enough for God, they are good enough for us. Think but one moment. God the Father adopts a man as his child, God the Son dies for that man, God the Holy Ghost inspires that man; and shall we be more dainty than God? If, in spite of the man's little weaknesses and oddities, God shall condescend to come down and dwell in that man, making him more or less a good man, doing good work; shall we pretend that we cannot endure what God endures? Shall we be more dainty, I ask again, than the holy and perfect God? Oh my friends, let us pray to him to take out of our hearts all selfishness, fancifulness, fastidiousness, and hasty respect of persons, of all which there is none in God. Let us ask for his Spirit, the Spirit of Charity, which sees God in all, and all in God, and therefore sees good in all, and sees all in love. Then we shall see how much more there is in our neighbours to like, than to dislike. Then all these little differences will seem to us trifles not to be thought of, before the broad fact of a man's being, after all, a man, an Englishman, a Christian, and a good Christian, doing good work where God has put him. Then we shall be ashamed of our old narrowness of heart; ashamed of having looked so much at the little evil in our neighbours, and not at the great good in them. Then we shall go about the world cheerfully; and our neighbour's faces will seem to us full of light: instead of seeming full of darkness, because our own eyes and minds are dark for want of charity. Then we shall come to the Communion, not with hearts narrowed and shut up, perhaps, from the very person who kneels next to us: but truly open-hearted; with hearts as wide--ah God, that it were possible!--as the sacred heart of Christ, in which is room for all mankind. And so receiving his body, which is the blessed company of all faithful people, we shall receive Christ, who dwelleth in them, and they in him. SERMON XVI. ST. PAUL (Eleventh Sunday after Trinity.) 1 Cor. xv. 8. Last of all he was seen of me, also, as of one born out of due time. For I am the least of the Apostles, that am not meet to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. You heard in this text (part of the epistle for this day) St. Paul's opinion of himself. You heard, also, in the Second Lesson for this day, the ninth chapter of Acts, the extraordinary story of his conversion. And what may we learn from that story? We may learn many lessons; lessons without number. We may learn, first; not to be astonished, if we have to change our opinions as we grow older. When we are young, we are very positive about this thing and that, as St. Paul was; violent in favour of our own opinions; ready to quarrel with any one who differs from us, as St. Paul was. But let ten years, twenty years, roll over our heads, and we may find our opinions utterly changed, as St. Paul did, and look back with astonishment on ourselves, for having been foolish enough to believe what we did, as St. Paul looked back; and with shame, as did St. Paul likewise, at having said so many violent and unjust things against people, who, we now see, were in the right after all. Next; we may learn not to be ashamed of changing our minds: but if we find ourselves in the wrong, to confess it boldly and honestly, as St. Paul did. What a fearful wrench to his mind and his heart; what a humiliation to his self-conceit, to have to change his mind once for all on all matters in heaven and earth. What must it not have cost him to throw up at once all his friends and relations; to part himself from all whom he loved and respected on earth, to feel that henceforth they must look upon him as a madman, an infidel, an enemy. To an affectionate man, and St. Paul was an extremely affectionate man, what a bitter struggle that must have cost him. But he faced that struggle, and conquered in it, like a brave and honest man. And the consequence was, that he had, in time, and after many lonely years, many Christian friends for each Jewish friend that he had lost; and to him was fulfilled (as it will be to all men) our Lord's great saying, 'There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands for my sake, and the gospel's, but he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, . . . and in the world to come eternal life.' Next; we may take comfort, in the hope that God will not impute to us these early follies and mistakes of ours; if only there be in us, as there was in St. Paul, the honest and good heart; that is, the heart which longs to know what is true and right, and bravely acts up to what it knows. St. Paul did so. God, when he set him apart, as he says, from his very birth, gave him a great grace, even the honest and good heart; and he was true to it, and used it. He tried to learn his best, and do his best. He profited in the Jews' religion, beyond all his fellows. He was, touching the righteousness which was in the law, blameless. He was so zealous for what he thought right, that he persecuted the Church of Christ, as the Pharisees, his teachers, had taught him to do. In all things, whether right or wrong in each particular case, he was an honest, earnest seeker after truth and righteousness. And therefore Christ, instead of punishing him, fulfilled to him his own great saying,--'To him that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance.' He had not yet, as he himself says, again and again, the grace of Christ, which is love to his fellow-men; and therefore his works were not pleasing to God, and had, as the article says, the nature of sin. His empty forms and ceremonies could not please God. His persecuting the Church had plainly the nature of sin. But there was something which God had put in him, and which God would not lose sight of, or suffer to be lost; and that was, the honest and good heart, of which our Lord speaks in the parable of the sower. In that Christ sowed the word of God, even himself, and his grace and Holy Spirit; and, behold, it sprang up and bore fruit a hundredfold, over all Christian nations to this day. Keep, therefore, if you have it, the honest and good heart. If you have it not, pray for it earnestly. Determine to learn what is true, whatever be the trouble; and to do what is right, whatever be the cost; and then, though you may make many mistakes, and have more than once, perhaps, to change your mind in shame and confusion, yet all will come right at last, for the grace of Christ, sooner or later, will lead you into all truth which you require for this world and all worlds to come. Again, we may learn from St. Paul this lesson. That though God has forgiven a man, that is no reason that he should forgive himself. That may seem a startling saying just now. For the common teaching now is, that if a man finds, or fancies, that God has forgiven him, he may forgive himself at once; that if he gets assurance that his sins are washed away in Christ's blood, he may go swaggering and boasting about the world (I can call it no less), as if he had never sinned at all; that he may be (as you see in these revivals, from which God defend us!) one moment in the deepest agonies of conscience, and dread of hell-fire, and the next moment in raptures of joy, declaring himself to be in heaven. Alas, alas! such people forget that sin leaves behind it wounds, which even the grace of Christ takes a long time in healing, and which then remain as ugly, but wholesome scars, to remind us of the fools which we have been. They are like a man who is in great bodily agony, and gets sudden relief from a dose of laudanum. The pain stops; and he feels himself, as he says, in heaven for the time: but he is too apt to forget that the cause of the pain is still in his body, and that if he commits the least imprudence, he will bring it back again; just as happens, I hear, in too many of these hasty and noisy conversions now-a-days. That is one extreme. The opposite extreme is that of many old Roman Catholic saints and hermits who could not forgive themselves at all, but passed their whole lives in fasting, poverty, and misery, bewailing their sins till their dying day. That was a mistake. It sprang out of mistaken doctrines, of which I shall not speak here: but it did not spring entirely from them. There was in them a seed of good, for which I shall always love and honour them, even though I differ from them; and that was, a noble hatred of sin. They felt the sinfulness of sin; and they hated themselves for having sinned. The mercy of God made them only the more ashamed of themselves for having rebelled against him. Their longing after holiness only made them loathe the more their past unholiness. They carried that feeling too far: but they were noble people, men and women of God; and we may say of them, that, 'Wisdom is justified of all her children.' But I wish you to run into neither extreme. I only ask you to look at your past lives, if you have ever been open sinners, as St. Paul looked at his. There is no sentimental melancholy in him; no pretending to be miserable; no trying to make himself miserable. He is saved, and he knows it. He is an apostle, and he stands boldly on his dignity. He is cheerful, hopeful, joyful: but whenever he speaks of his past life (and he speaks of it often), it is with noble shame and sorrow. Then he looks to himself the chief of sinners, not worthy to be called an apostle, because he persecuted the Church of Christ. What he is, he will not deny. What he was, he will not forget, he dare not forget, lest he should forget that the good which he does, _he_ does not--for in him (that is, in his flesh, his own natural character), dwelleth no good thing--but Christ, who dwells in him; lest he should grow puffed up, careless, self-indulgent; lest he should neglect to subdue his evil passions; and so, after having preached to others, himself become a castaway. So let us do, my friends. Let us not be too hasty in forgiving ourselves. Let us thank God cheerfully for the present. Let us look on hopefully to the future; let us not look back too much at the past, or rake up old follies which have been pardoned and done away. But let us thank God whenever he thinks fit to shew us the past, and bring our sin to our remembrance. Let us thank him, when meeting an old acquaintance, passing by an old haunt, looking over an old letter, reminds us what fools we were ten, twenty, thirty years ago. Let us thank him for those nightly dreams, in which old tempers, old meannesses, old sins, rise up again in us into ugly life, and frighten us by making us in our sleep, what we were once, God forgive us! when broad awake. I am not superstitious. I know that those dreams are bred merely of our brain and of our blood. But I know that they are none the less messages from God. They tell us unmistakeably that we are the same persons that we were twenty years ago. They tell us that there is the same infection of nature, the same capability of sin, in us, that there was of old. That in our flesh dwells no good thing: that by the grace of God alone we are what we are: and that did his grace leave us, we might be once more as utter fools as we were in the wild days of youth. Yes: let us thank God for everything which reminds us of what we once were. Let us humble ourselves before him whenever those memories return to us; and let us learn from them what St. Paul learnt. To be charitable to all who have not yet learnt the wisdom which God (as we may trust) has taught to us; to feel for them, feel with them, be sure that they are our brothers, men of like passions with ourselves, who will be tried by the same standard as we; whom therefore we must not judge, lest we be judged in turn: and let us have, as St. Paul had, hope for them all; hope that God who has forgiven us, will forgive them; that God who has raised us from the death of sin, to something of the life of righteousness, will raise them up likewise, in his own good time. Amen. SERMON XVII. THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART Isaiah, lvii. 15-21. For thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones. For I will not contend for ever, neither will I be always wroth: for the spirit should fail before me, and the souls which I have made. For the iniquity of his covetousness was I wroth, and smote him: I hid me, and was wroth, and he went on frowardly in the way of his heart. I have seen his ways, and will heal him: I will lead him also, and restore comforts unto him and to his mourners. I create the fruit of the lips: Peace, peace to him that is far off, and to him that is near, saith the Lord; and I will heal him. But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked. This is part of Isaiah's prophecy. He is telling the Jews that they should come back safe at last to their own land. He tells them why God had driven them out, and why God was going to bring them back. He had driven them out for their sins. But he was not going to bring them back for their righteousness. He was going to bring them back out of his own free grace, his own pure love and mercy, which was wider, deeper, and higher, than all their sins, or than the sins of the whole world. He had sworn to Abraham to be the friend of those foolish rebellious Jews, and he would keep his promise for ever. Their wickedness could not conquer his goodness, or their denying him make him deny himself. But one thing he did require of them. Not that they should turn and do right all at once. That must come afterwards. But that they should open their eyes, and see that they had done wrong. He wanted to produce in them the humble and the contrite heart. Now, as I told you last Sunday, a contrite heart does not merely mean a broken heart; it means more. It means literally a heart crushed; a heart ground to powder. You can have no stronger word. It was this heart which God wished to breed in these rebellious Jews. A heart like Isaiah's heart, when he said, after having seen God's glory, 'Woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips, and dwell among a people of unclean lips.' A heart like Jeremiah's heart, when he said, 'Oh, that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people.' A heart like Daniel's heart, when he confessed before God that, to him and all his people belonged shame and confusion of face. Why do I mention these three men? They were not bad men, but good men. What need had they of a contrite heart? I mention them, because they were good men. And why were they good men? For any good works of their own? Not in the least. What made them good men was, just the having the humble and the contrite heart; just feeling that in themselves they were as bad as the sinners round them; that the only thing which kept them out of the idolatry and profligacy of their neighbours was confessing their own weakness, and clinging fast to God by faith; confessing that their own righteousness was as filthy rags, and that God must clothe them with his righteousness. Do you suppose that Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Daniel would have been good men, if they had said to themselves, 'We are prophets; we are inspired; we know God's law: and therefore we are righteous; we are safe: but these people--these idolaters, these drunkards, these covetous, tyrannous, profligate people round, to whom we preach, and who know not the law--they are accursed.' If they had, they would have said just what the Pharisees said afterwards. And what came of their saying so? Instead of knowing the Lord Christ, when he came they crucified him, showing that they were really worse at heart than the ignorant common people, instead of better. No, my friends, Isaiah, and Jeremiah, and Daniel, were, better men than those round them, just because they had the humble and contrite heart; because they confessed that the root of sin was in them too, as much as in their fellow-country men; because they took their share of the public blame, their share of the public burden. And their work and wish was, to breed in their fellow-countrymen the same humble and contrite heart which they had; to make them confess that their only hope lay in turning back to God, and doing right. But they could not succeed. Sin was too strong for them. So as Isaiah had warned the Jews, God did the work himself. God took the matter into his own hands, and arose out of his place to punish those Jews, and to make short work with them, by famine, and pestilence, and earthquake, and foreign invasion, till they were all carried away captive to Babylon: to see if that would teach them to know that God was the Lord; to see if that would breed in them the humble and contrite heart. But God says to these poor Jews, Do not fancy that I have taken a spite against you. Not so. I will not contend for ever. I will not be always angry; for then the spirit would fail before me, and the souls which I have made. I have made you, God says; and I love you. I wish to save you, and not to destroy you. If God really hated any man, do you suppose that he would endure that man for a moment in his universe? Do you suppose that he would not sweep that man away, as easily and as quickly as we do a buzzing gnat when it torments us? Do you fancy that God lets you, or me, or any man, or any creature live one single instant, except in the hope of saving him, and of making him better than he is; of making him of some use, somewhere, some day or other? Do you suppose, I say, that God endures sinners one moment, save because he loves sinners, and willeth not the death of a sinner, but that he should be converted and live? No. 'God our Saviour,' says St. Paul to Timothy, 'willeth that all men should be saved, and come to the knowledge of the truth;' and therefore if they are not saved it must be their own fault, and not God's; it must be they who will not be saved, though God wills that they should be, as Isaiah goes on to show. For he says--God cries to men, Peace! I create the fruit of the lips; that is, I give men cause to thank me. I create it. I make it without their help. I do not sell them my mercy. I give it them freely. I say, Peace, peace, to them all, To him who is near, and him who is afar off; peace to all mankind; peace on earth, and goodwill to men. God is everlastingly at peace with himself, and at peace with all his creatures, and with all his works; and he wills, in his boundless love, to bring them all into his peace, the peace which passeth understanding; that they may be at peace with him; and, therefore at peace with themselves, and at peace with each other. But how can they be at peace, when there is no peace in them? If they will do wrong; if they will quarrel; if they will defraud each other; if they will give way to the lusts and passions which war within them: how can they be at peace? They are like a troubled sea, says Isaiah, when it cannot rest, which casts up mire and dirt; and there is no peace to them. It is not God who casts up the mire and dirt. It is they who cast it up. God has not made them restless: but they themselves, with their pride, selfishness, violent passions, longings after this and that. God has not made them foul and dirty, but they themselves, with their own foul words and foul deeds, which keep them from being at peace with themselves, because they are ashamed of them all the while; which keep them from being at peace with their neighbours; which make them hate and fear their neighbours, because they know that their neighbours do not respect them, or are afraid of their neighbours finding them out. What says brave, plain-spoken St. James?--'Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man.' 'From whence come wars and fightings among you? Come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your members? Ye lust, and have not: ye kill, and desire to have, and cannot obtain: ye fight and war, yet ye have not, because ye ask not.' But as for God, he says, from him comes nothing but good. Do not fancy anything else. 'Do not err, my beloved brethren. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. Of His own will begat He us with the word of truth, that we should be a kind of first-fruits of His creatures.' My friends, all these things were written for our examples. God grant that we may lay the lesson to heart. A dark night may come to any one of us, a night of darkness upon darkness, and sorrow upon sorrow, and bad luck upon bad luck; till we know not what is going to happen next; and are ready to say with David--'All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me;' and with Hezekiah--'I reckoned till morning, that, as a lion, so will he break all my bones: from day even to night wilt thou make an end of me.' God grant, that before that day comes, we may have so learnt to know God, as to know that the billows are God's billows, and the storms his storms; and, after a while, not to be afraid, though all earthly hope and help seem swept away. God grant that when trouble comes after trouble, we may be able to see that our Father in heaven is only dealing with us as he dealt with those poor Jews; that he is all the while saying 'Peace!' to us, whether we be near him, or far off from him; and is ready to heal us, the moment that he has worked in us the broken and contrite heart. And we may trust him that he will do it. With him one day is as a thousand years. And in one day of bitter misery he can teach us lessons, which we could not teach ourselves in a thousand years of reading and studying, or even of praying. But our prayers, we shall find, have not been in vain. He has not forgotten one of them; and there is the answer, in that very sorrow. In sorrow, he is making short work with our spirits. In one terrible and searching trial our souls may be, as the Poet says-- Heated hot with burning fears, And bathed in baths of hissing tears; And battered by the strokes of doom. To shape and use. Yes. He will make short work at times with men's spirits. He grinds hearts to powder, that they may be broken and contrite before him: but only that he may heal them; that out of the broken fragments of the hard, proud, self-deceiving heart of stone, he may create a new and harder heart of flesh, human and gentle, humble and simple. And then he will return and have mercy. He will show that he will not contend for ever. He will show that he does not wish our spirits to fail before him, but to grow and flourish before him to everlasting life. He will create the fruit of the lips, and give us cause to thank him in spirit and in truth. He will show us that he was nearest when he seemed furthest off; and that just because he is the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy, who dwelleth in the high and holy place, for that very reason he dwells also with the humble and the contrite heart; because that heart alone can confess his height and its own lowliness, confess its own sin and his holiness; and so can cling to his majesty by faith, and partake of his holiness by the inspiration of his Holy Spirit. God grant that we may all so humble ourselves under his mighty hand, whenever that hand lies heavy upon us, that he may raise us up in due time, changed into his divine likeness, from glory to glory; till we come to the measure of Christ, and to the stature of perfect men, renewed into the image of the Son of Man, Jesus Christ our Lord! Amen. SERMON XVIII. ST. PETER Matt. xvi. 18. Thou art Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church. This is St. Peter's day. It will be well worth our while to think a little over St. Peter, and what kind of man he was. For St. Peter was certainly one of the most important and most famous men who ever lived in the whole world. You just heard what our Lord said to him in the text. And certainly, from those words, and from many other things which are told of St. Peter, he was the chief of the apostles--at least till St. Paul arose. St. Paul says himself, that he had as much authority as St. Peter, and that he was not a whit behind the very chiefest of the apostles: but St. Peter, for some time after our Lord's death, seems to have been looked up to, by the rest of the apostles and the disciples, as their leader, the man of most weight and authority among them. It was to St. Peter especially that our Lord looked to strengthen the other apostles, after he had been converted himself. It was to St. Peter that our Lord first revealed that great gospel, that the Gentiles were fellow-heirs with the Jews in all God's promises. The same thing was afterwards revealed to St. Paul too, and far more fully: but it was St. Peter who had the great honour of baptizing the first heathen; and of using, as our Lord had bid him do, the keys of the kingdom of heaven, to open its doors to all the nations upon earth. Now, what sort of a man was this on whom the Lord Jesus Christ put so great an honour? If we say that St. Peter was nothing in himself; that all the goodness and worth in him was given him by Jesus Christ, then we must ask, what sort of goodness, what sort of worth, did the Lord give St. Peter to make him fit for so great an office? And how did he use Christ's gifts? For, mind, he might have used them wrongly, as well as rightly; and the greater gifts he had, the more harm he would have done if he had used them ill. We shall see, presently, how he did use them ill, more than once; and how our Lord had to reprove him, and say very stern and terrible words to him, to bring him to his senses. But this we may see, that St. Peter was always a frank, brave, honest, high-spirited man; who, if he thought that a thing ought to be done, would do it at once. The first thing we hear of him is, how Jesus, walking by the Lake of Galilee, saw Peter with his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fishers. And he said unto them, 'Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men. And they straightway left their nets, and followed him.' This was most likely not the first time that St. Peter had seen our Lord, or heard him speak. Living in the same part of the country, he must have known all his miracles: but still it was a great struggle, no doubt, for him (and doubly so because he was a married man), to throw up his employment, and go wandering after one who had not where to lay his head: yet he did it, and did it at once. And you may see that he did it for a much higher and nobler reason than if he had only gone to wonder at our Lord's miracles, as the multitude did, or even to be able to work miracles himself. Jesus did not say to him, Follow me, and I will give you the power of working miracles, and being admired, and wondered at; all he says is, I will make you fishers of men; I will make you able to get a hold on men's hearts, and teach them, and make them happier and better. And for that St. Peter followed him. It seems as if from the first his wish was to do good to his fellow-creatures. And, gradually, he seems to have become the spokesman for the other apostles. When they wished to ask our Lord anything, we generally find St. Peter asking; and when (as in the gospel for to-day), our Lord asks them a question, St. Peter answers for them all. Whom say ye that I am? And Peter answered and said, 'Thou art the Christ, the Son of the Living God.' This is what St. Peter had learnt; because he had kept his eyes and his ears open, and his heart ready and teachable, that he might see God's truth when it should please God to show it him; and God did show it him: and taught him something which his own eyes and ears could not teach him; which all his thinking could not have taught him; which no _man_ could have taught him; flesh and blood could not reveal to him that Jesus was the Son of God; flesh and blood could not draw aside the veil of flesh and blood, and make him see in that poor man of Nazareth, who was called the carpenter's son, the only- begotten of the Father, God made man. No. God the Father only could teach him that, by the inspiration of his Holy Spirit: but do you think that God would have taught St. Peter that, or that St. Peter could have learnt it, if his mind had been merely full of thoughts about himself, and what honour he was to get for himself, or what profit he was to get for himself, out of the Lord Jesus Christ? No: St. Peter loved the Lord Jesus; loved him with his whole heart. When afterwards our Lord asked him, 'Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?' He answered, 'Lord, thou knowest that I love thee.' And because he loved him, he saw how beautiful and glorious the Lord's character was; and his eyes were opened to see that the Lord was too beautiful, too glorious, to be merely a mortal man; and, at last, to see that he was the brightness of God's glory, and the express image of his Father's person. But, as I said just now, St. Peter's great and excellent gifts might have made him only the more dangerous man, if he used them ill. And this seems to have been his danger. He was plainly a very bold and determined man, who knew his own power, and was ready to use it fearlessly: and what would he be tempted to do! To fancy that his power belonged to him, and not to Christ; that his wisdom belonged to himself; that his faith belonged to himself; his authority belonged to himself; and that, therefore, he could use his excellent gifts as he liked, and not merely as Christ liked. He was liable, as we say in homely English, to 'have his head turned' by his honour and his power. For instance, immediately after our Lord had put this great honour on him, 'I will give thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven,' we find Peter mistaking his power, and, therefore, misusing it. 'From that time forth began Jesus to show unto his disciples, how that he must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third day. Then Peter took him, and began to rebuke him, saying, Be it far from Thee, Lord: this shall not be unto thee. But he turned, and said unto Peter, Get thee behind me, Satan: thou art an offence unto me: for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but those that be of men.' St. Peter's words, in the Greek tongue, really seem to mean that St. Peter fancied that _he_ could protect our Lord; that he had the power of delivering him, by binding his enemies the Jews, and loosing the Lord himself. That seems to have been the way in which he took our Lord's words: but what does our Lord answer? As stern words as man could hear. 'Get thee behind me, Satan; for thou art an offence unto me.' Or, rather, thou art my stumbling-block. So that St. Peter, while he fancied himself near to the angels, found out, to his shame, that he was behaving like a devil, and had to be called Satan to his face; and that while he thought he could save the Lord Jesus, he found that he was doing all he could to harm and ruin his master; trying to do the very work which the Devil tried to do, when he tempted the Lord Jesus in the wilderness. So near beside each other do heaven and hell lie. So easy is it to give place to the Devil, and fall into the worst of sin, just when we are puffed up with spiritual pride. And more than once afterwards, St. Peter had to learn that same lesson; when, for instance, he leaped boldly overboard from the boat, and came walking towards Jesus on the sea. That was noble: worthy of St. Peter: but he fancied himself a braver man than he was. He became afraid; and the moment that he became afraid, he began to sink. Jesus saved him, and then told him why he had become afraid: because his faith had failed him. He had ceased trusting in Christ's power to keep him up; and became helpless at once. That should have been a lesson to St. Peter, that he was not to be so very sure of his own faith and his own courage; that without his Lord he might become cowardly and helpless any moment: but he did not take that gentle lesson; so he had to learn it once and for all by a very terrible trial. We all know how he fell;--one day protesting vehemently to his Lord, 'Though I die with thee, I will not deny thee;' the next, declaring, with oaths and curses, 'I know not the man.' No wonder that when Jesus turned and looked on him, Peter went out and wept bitterly, as bitter tears of shame as ever were shed on earth. For he knew, he was sure, that he loved his Lord all along: and now he had denied him. He who was so bold and confident, to fall thus! and into the very sins most contrary to his nature! the very sins in which he would have expected least of all to fall! He, so frank and honest and brave--He to turn coward. He to tell a base lie! I dare say, that for the moment he could hardly believe himself to be himself. But so it is, my friends. If we forget that all which is good and strong in us comes from God, and not from ourselves; if we are conceited, and confident in ourselves; then we cut ourselves off from God's grace, and give place to Satan the Devil, that he may sift us like wheat, as he did St. Peter; and then in some shameful hour, we may find ourselves saying and doing things which we would never have believed we could have done. God grant, that if ever we fall into such unexpected sin, it may happen to us as it did to St. Peter. For Satan gained little by sifting St. Peter. He sifted out the chaff: but the wheat was left behind safe for God's garner. The chaff was St. Peter's rashness and self-conceit, which came from his own sinful nature; and that went, and St. Peter was rid of it for ever. The wheat was St. Peter's courage, and faith, and honour, which came from God; and that remained, and St. Peter kept them for ever. That, we read, was St. Peter's conversion; that worked the thorough and complete change in his character, and made him a new man from that day forth. And then, after that terrible and fiery trial, St. Peter was ready to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, which gave him courage with fervent zeal to preach the gospel of his Crucified Lord, and at last to be crucified himself for that Lord's sake; and so fulfil the Lord's words to him. 'When thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not.' By that our Lord seems to have meant, 'You were strong and proud and self- willed enough in your youth. The day will come when you will be tamed down, ready and willing to suffer patiently, even agony from which your flesh and blood may shrink;' and the Lord's words came true. For, say the old stories, when St. Peter was led to be crucified, he refused to be crucified upright, as the Lord Jesus had been, saying, 'That it was too great an honour for him, who had once denied his Lord, to die the same death as his Lord died.' So he was crucified, they say, with his head downward; and ended a glorious life in a humble martyrdom. And what may we learn from St. Peter's character? I think we may learn this. Frankness, boldness, a high spirit, a stout will, and an affectionate heart; these are all God's gifts, and they are pleasant in his eyes, and ought to be a blessing to the man who has them. Ought to be a blessing to him, because they are the stuff out of which a good, and noble, and useful Christian man may be made. But they need not be a blessing to a man; they are _excellent_ gifts: but they will not of themselves make a man an _excellent_ man, who _excels_; that is, surpasses others in goodness. We may see that ourselves, from experience. We see too many brave men, free-spoken men, affectionate men, who come to shame and ruin. How then can we become excellent men, like St. Peter? By being baptised, as St. Peter was, with the Holy Ghost and with fire. Baptized with the Holy Ghost, to put into our hearts good desires; to make us see what is good, and love what is good, long to do good: but baptized with fire also. 'He shall baptize you,' John the Baptist said, 'with the Holy Ghost and with fire.' Does that seem a hard saying? Do not some at least of you know what that means? Some know, I believe. All will know one day; for it is true for all. To all, sooner or later, Christ comes to baptise them with fire; with the bitter searching affliction which opens the very secrets of their hearts, and shows them what their souls are really like, and parts the good from the evil in them, the gold from the rubbish, the wheat from the chaff. 'And he shall gather the wheat into his garner, but the chaff he shall burn up with unquenchable fire.' God grant to each of you, that when that day comes to you, there may be something in you which will stand the fire; something worthy to be treasured up in God's garner, unto everlasting life. But do not think that the baptism of fire comes only once for all to a man, in some terrible affliction, some one awful conviction of his own sinfulness and nothingness. No; with many--and those, perhaps, the best people--it goes on month after month, year after year: by secret trials, chastenings which none but they and God can understand, the Lord is cleansing them from their secret faults, and making them to understand wisdom secretly; burning out of them the chaff of self-will and self-conceit and vanity, and leaving only the pure gold of his righteousness. How many sweet and holy souls look cheerful enough before the eyes of man, because they are too humble and too considerate to intrude their secret sorrows upon the world. And yet they have their secret sorrows. They carry their cross unseen all day long, and lie down to sleep on it at night: and they will carry it for years and years, and to their graves, and to the Throne of Christ, before they lay it down: and none but they and Christ will ever know what it was; what was the secret chastisement which he sent to make that soul better, which seemed to us to be already too good for earth. So does the Lord watch his people, and tries them with fire, as the refiner of silver sits by his furnace, watching the melted metal, till he knows that it is purged from all its dross, by seeing the image of his own face reflected in it. God grant that our afflictions may so cleanse our hearts, that at the last Christ may behold himself in us, and us in himself; that so we may be fit to be with him where he is, and behold the glory which his Father gave him before the foundation of the world. SERMON XIX. ELIJAH (Tenth Sunday after Trinity.) 1 Kings xxi. 19, 20. And thou shalt speak unto him, saying, Thus saith the Lord, Hast thou killed, and also taken possession? and thou shalt speak unto him, saying, Thus saith the Lord, In the place where dogs licked the blood of Naboth, shall dogs lick thy blood, even thine. And Ahab said to Elijah, Hast thou found me, O mine enemy? And he answered, I have found thee: because thou hast sold thyself to work evil in the sight of the Lord. Of all the grand personages in the Old Testament, there are few or none, I think, grander than the prophet Elijah. Consider his strange and wild life, wandering about in forests and mountains, suddenly appearing, and suddenly disappearing again, so that no man knew where to find him; and, as Obadiah said when he met him, 'If I tell my Lord, Behold, Elijah is here; then, as soon as I am gone from thee, the Spirit of the Lord shall carry thee whither I know not.' Consider, again, his strange activity and strength, as when he goes, forty days and forty nights, far away out of Judea, over the waste wilderness, to Horeb the mount of God; or, as again, when he girds up his loins, and runs before Ahab's chariot for many miles to the entrance of Jezreel. One can fancy him from what the Bible tells us of him, clearly enough; as a man mysterious and terrible, not merely in the eyes of women and children, but of soldiers and of kings. He seems to have been especially a countryman; a mountaineer; born and bred in Gilead, among the lofty mountains and vast forests, full of wild beasts, lions and bears, wild bulls and deer, which stretch for many miles along the further side of the river Jordan, with the waste desert of rocks and sand beyond them. A wild man, bred up in a wild country, he had learnt to fear no man, and no thing, but God alone. We do not know what his youth was like; we do not know whether he had wife, or children, or any human being who loved him. Most likely not. He seems to have lived a lonely life, in sad and bad times. He seems to have had but one thought, that his country was going to ruin, from idolatry, tyranny, false and covetous ways; and one determination; to say so; to speak the truth, whatever it cost him. He had found out that the Lord was God, and not Baal, or any of the idols; and he would follow the Lord; and tell all Israel what his own heart had told him, 'The Lord, he is God,' was the one thing which he had to say; and he said it, till it became his name; whether given him by his parents, or by the people, his name was Elijah, 'The Lord is God.' 'How long halt ye between two opinions?' he cries, upon the greatest day of his life. 'If the Lord be God, then follow him; but if Baal, then follow him.' How grand he is, on Carmel, throughout that noble chapter which we read last Sunday. There is no fear in him, no doubt in him. The poor wild peasant out of the savage mountains stands up before all Israel, before king, priests, nobles, and people, and speaks and acts as if he, too, were a king; because the Spirit of God is in him: and he is right, and he knows that he is right. And they obey him as if he were a king. Even before the fire comes down from heaven, and shows that God is on his side, from the first they obey him. King Ahab himself obeys him, trembles before him--'And it came to pass, when Ahab saw Elijah, that Ahab said unto him, Art thou he that troubleth Israel? And he answered, I have not troubled Israel; but thou, and thy father's house, in that ye have forsaken the commandments of the Lord, and thou hast followed Baalim. Now therefore send, and gather to me all Israel unto mount Carmel, and the prophets of Baal four hundred and fifty, and the prophets of the groves four hundred, which eat at Jezebel's table. So Ahab sent unto all the children of Israel, and gathered the prophets together unto mount Carmel.' The tyrant's guilty conscience makes a coward of him: and he quails before the wild man out of the mountains, who has not where to lay his head, who stands alone against all the people, though Baal's prophets are four hundred and fifty men, and the prophets of the groves four hundred, and they eat at the queen's table; and he only is left and they seek his life:--yet no man dare touch him, not even the king himself. Such power is there, such strength is there, in being an honest and a God-fearing man. Yes, my friends, this was the secret of Elijah's power. This is the lesson which Elijah has to teach us. Not to halt between two opinions. If a thing be true, to stand up for it; if a thing be right, to do it, whatsoever it may cost us. Make up your minds then, my friends, to be honest men like Elijah the prophet of old. For your own sake, for your neighbour's sake, and for God's sake, be honest men. For your own sake. If you want to be respected; if you want to be powerful--and it is good to be powerful sometimes--if God has set you to govern people, whether it be your children and household, your own farm, your own shop, your own estate, your own country or neighbourhood--Do you want to know the great secret of success?--Be honest and brave. Let your word be as good as your thought, and your deed as good as your word. Who is the man who is respected? Who is the man who has influence? The complaisant man--the cringing man--the man who cannot say No, or dare not say No? Not he. The passionate man who loses his temper when anything goes wrong, who swears and scolds, and instead of making others do right, himself does wrong, and lowers himself just when he ought to command respect? My experience is--not he: but the man who says honestly and quietly what he thinks, and does fearlessly and quietly what he knows. People who differ from him will respect him, because he acts up to his principles. When they are in difficulty or trouble, they will go and ask his advice, just because they know they will get an honest answer. They will overlook a little roughness in him; they will excuse his speaking unpleasant truths: because they can trust him, even though he is plain-spoken. For your neighbour's sake, I say; and again, for your children's sake; for the sake of all with whom you have to do, be honest and brave. For our children--O my friends, we cannot do a crueller thing by them than to let them see that we are inconsistent. If they hear us say one thing and do another--if, while we preach to them we do not practice ourselves, they will never respect us, and never obey us from love and principle. If they do obey us, it will be only before our faces, and from fear. If they see us doing only what we like, when our backs are turned they will do what they like. And worse will come than their not respecting us--they will learn not to respect God. If they see that we do not respect truth and honesty, they will not respect truth and honesty; and he who does not respect them, does not respect God. They will learn to look on religion as a sham. If we are inconsistent, they will be profane. But some may say--'I have no power; and I want none. I have no people under me for whom I am responsible.' Then, if you think that you need not be honest and brave for your own sake, or for other peoples' sake, be honest and brave for God's sake. Do you ask what I mean? I mean this. Recollect that truth belongs to God. That if a thing is true, it is true because God made it so, and not otherwise; and therefore, if you deny truth, you fight against God. If you are honest, and stand up for truth, you stand up for God, and what God has done. And recollect this, too. If a thing be right for you to do, God has made it right, and God wills you to do it; and, therefore, if you do not do your duty, you are fighting against God; and if you do your duty, you are a fellow-worker with God, fulfilling God's will. Therefore, I say, Be honest and brave for God's sake. And in this way, my friends, all may be brave, all may be noble. Speak the truth, and do your duty, because it is the will of God. Poor, weak women, people without scholarship, cleverness, power, may live glorious lives, and die glorious deaths, and God's strength may be made perfect in their weakness. They may live, did I say? I may say they have lived, and have died, already, by thousands. When we read the stories of the old martyrs who, in the heathen persecution, died like heroes rather than deny Christ, and scorned to save themselves by telling what they knew to be a lie, but preferred truth to all that makes life worth having:--how many of them--I may say the greater part of them--were poor creatures enough in the eyes of man, though they were rich enough, noble enough, in the eyes of God who inspired them. 'Few rich and few noble,' as the apostle says, 'were called.' It was to poor people, old people, weak women, ill-used and untaught slaves, that God gave grace to defy all the torments which the heathen could heap on them, and to defy the scourge and the rack, the wild beasts and the fire, sooner than foul their lips and their souls by denying Christ, and worshipping the idols which they knew were nothing, and worth nothing. And so it may be with any of you here; whosoever you may be, however poor, however humble. Though your opportunities may be small, your station lowly, your knowledge little; though you may be stupid in mind, slow of speech, weakly of body, yet if you but make up your mind to say the thing which is true, and to do the thing which is right, you may be strong with the strength of God, and glorious with the glory of Christ. It is a grand thing, no doubt, to be like Elijah, a stern and bold prophet, standing up alone against a tyrant king and a sinful people; but it is even a greater thing to be like that famous martyr in old time, St. Blandina, who, though she was but a slave, and so weakly, and mean, and fearful in body, that her mistress and all her friends feared that she would deny Christ at the very sight of the torments prepared for her, and save herself by sacrificing to the idols, yet endured, day after day, tortures too horrible to speak of, without cry or groan, or any word, save 'I am a Christian;' and, having outlived all her fellow-martyrs, died at last victorious over pain and temptation, so that the very heathen who tortured her broke out in admiration of her courage, and confessed that no woman had ever endured so many and so grievous torments. So may God's strength be made perfect in woman's weakness. You are not called to endure such things. No: but you, and I, and every Christian soul are called on to do what we know to be right. Not to halt between two opinions: but if God be God, to follow Him. If we make up our minds to do that, we shall be sure to have our trials: but we shall be safe, because we are on God's side, and God on ours. And if God be with us, what matter if the whole world be against us? For which is the stronger of the two, the whole world, or God who made it, and rules it, and will rule it for ever? SERMON XX. THE LOFTINESS OF HUMILITY 1 Peter v. 5. Be clothed with humility: for God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble. This is St. Peter's command. Are we really inclined to obey it? For, if we are, there is nothing more easy. There is no vice so easy to get rid of as pride: if one wishes. Nothing so easy as to be humble: if one wishes. That may seem a strange saying, considering that self-conceit is the vice of all others to which man is most given; the first sin, and the last sin, and that which is said to be the most difficult to cure. But what I say is true nevertheless. Whosoever wishes to get rid of pride may do so. Whosoever wishes to be humble need not go far to humble himself. But how? Simply by being honest with himself, and looking at himself as he is. Let a man recollect honestly and faithfully his past life; let him recollect his sayings and doings for the past week; even for the past twenty-four hours: and I will warrant that man that he will recollect something, or, perhaps, many things which will not raise him in his own eyes; something which he had sooner not have said or done; something which, if he is a foolish man, he will try to forget, because it makes him ashamed of himself; something which, if he is a wise man, he will not try to forget, just because it makes him ashamed of himself; and a very good thing for him that he should be so. I know that it is so for me; and therefore I suppose it is so for every man and woman in this Church. I am not going to give any examples. I am not going to say,-- 'Suppose you thought this and this about yourself, and were proud of it; and then suppose that you recollected that you had done that and that: would you not feel very much taken down in your own conceit?' I like that personal kind of preaching less and less. Those random shots are dangerous and cruel; likely to hit the wrong person, and hurt their feelings unnecessarily. It is very easy to say a hard thing: but not so easy to say it to the right person and at the right time. No. The heart knoweth its own bitterness. Almost every one has something to be ashamed of, more or less, which no one but himself and God knows of; and which, perhaps, it is better that no one but he and God should know. I do not mean any great sin, or great shame--God forbid; but some weak point, as we call it. Something which he had better not say or do; and yet which he is in the habit of saying and doing. I do not ask what it is. With some it may be a mere pardonable weakness; with others it may be a very serious and dangerous fault. All I ask now is, that each and every one of us should try and find it out, and feel it, and keep it in mind; that we may be of a humble spirit with the lowly, which is better than dividing the spoil with the proud. But why better? The world and human nature look up to the proud successful man. One is apt to say, 'Happy is the man who has plenty to be proud of. Happy is the man who can divide the spoil of this world with the successful of this world. Happy is the man who can look down on his fellow-men, and stand over them, and manage them, and make use of them, and get his profit out of them.' But that is a mistake. That is the high-mindedness which goes before a fall, which comes not from above, but is always earthly, often sensual, and sometimes devilish. The true and safe high- mindedness, which comes from above, is none other than humility. For, if you will look at it aright, the humble man is really more high-minded than the proud man. Think. Suppose two men equal in understanding, in rank, in wealth, in what else you like, one of them proud, the other humble. The proud man thinks--'How much better, wiser, richer, more highly born, more religious, more orthodox, am I than other people round me.' Not, of course, than all round him, but than those whom he thinks beneath him. Therefore he is always comparing himself with those below himself; always watching those things in them in which he thinks them worse, meaner than himself; he is always looking down on his neighbours. Now, which is more high-minded; which is nobler; which is more fit for a man; to look down, or to look up? At all events the humble man _looks up_. He thinks, 'How much worse, not how much better, am I than other people.' He looks at their good points, and compares them with his own bad ones. He admires them for those things in which they surpass him. He thinks of--perhaps he loves to read of-- men superior to himself in goodness, wisdom, courage. He pleases himself with the example of brave and righteous deeds, even though he fears that he cannot copy them; and so he is always looking up. His mind is filled with high thoughts, though they be about others, not about himself. If he be a truly Christian man, his thoughts rise higher still. He thinks of Christ and of God, and compares his weakness, ignorance, and sinfulness with their perfect power, wisdom, goodness. Do you not see that this man's mind is full of higher, nobler thoughts than that of the proud man? Is he not more high-minded who is looking up, up to God himself, for what is good, noble, heavenly? Even though it makes him feel small, poor, weak, and sinful in comparison, still his mind is full of grace, and wisdom, and glory. The proud man, meanwhile, for the sake of feeding his own self-conceit at other men's expense, is filling his mind with low, mean, earthly thoughts about the weaknesses, sins, and follies, of the world around him. Is not he truly low-minded, thinking about low things? Now, I tell you, my friends, that both have their reward. That the humble man, as years roll on, becomes more and more noble, and the proud man becomes more and more low-minded; and finds that pride goes before a fall in more senses than one. Yes. There is nothing more hurtful to our own minds and hearts than a domineering, contemptuous frame of mind. It may be pleasant to our own self- conceit: but it is only a sweet poison. A man lowers his own character by it. He takes the shape of what he is always looking at; and, if he looks at base and low things, he becomes base and low himself; just as slave-owners, all over the world, and in all time, sooner and later, by living among slaves, learn to copy their own slaves' vices; and, while they oppress and look down on their fellow-man, become passionate and brutal, false and greedy, like the poor wretches whom they oppress. Better, better to be of a lowly spirit. Better to think of those who are nobler than ourselves, even though by so doing we are ashamed of ourselves all day long. What loftier thoughts can man have? What higher and purer air can a man's soul breathe? Yes, my friends; believe it, and be sure of it. The truly high-minded man is not the proud man, who tries to get a little pitiful satisfaction from finding his brother men, as he chooses to fancy, a little weaker, a little more ignorant, a little more foolish, a little more ridiculous, than his own weak, ignorant, foolish, and, perhaps, ridiculous self. Not he; but the man who is always looking upwards to goodness, to good men, and to the all-good God: filling his soul with the sight of an excellence to which he thinks he can never attain; and saying, with David, 'All my delight is in the saints that dwell in the earth, and in those who excel in virtue.' But I do not say that he cannot attain to that excellence. To the goodness of God, of course, no man can; but to the goodness of man he may. For what man has done, man may do; and the grace of God which gave power to one man to rise above sin, and weakness, and ignorance, will give power to others also. But only to those who look upward, at better men than themselves: not to those who look down, like the Pharisee, but to those who look up like the Publican; for, as the text says, 'God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble.' And why does God resist and set himself against the proud? To turn him out of his evil way, of course, if by any means he may be converted (that is, turned round) and live. For the proud man has put himself into a wrong position; where no immortal soul ought to be. He is looking away from God, and down upon men; and so he has turned his face and thoughts away from God, the fountain of light and life; and is trying to do without God, and to stand in his own strength, and not in God's grace, and to be somebody in himself, instead of being only in God, in whom we live and move and have our being. So he has set himself against God; and God will, in mercy to that foolish man's soul, set himself against him. God will humble him; God will overthrow him; God will bring his plans to nought; if by any means he may make that man ashamed of himself, and empty him of his self-conceit, that he may turn and repent in dust and ashes, when he finds out what those proud Laodicaean Christians of old had to find out--that all the while that they were saying, 'I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing,' they did not know that they were wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked. And how does God give grace to the humble? My friends, even the wise heathen knew that. Listen to a heathen; {328} a good and a wise man, though; and one who was not far from the kingdom of God, or he would not have written such words as these,-- 'It is our duty,' he says, 'to turn our minds to the best of everything; so as not merely to enjoy what we read, but to be improved by it. And we shall do that, by reading the histories of good and great men, which will, in our minds, produce an emulation and eagerness, which may stir us up to imitation. We may be pleased with the work of a man's hands, and yet set little store by the workman. Perfumes and fine colours we may like well enough: but that will not make us wish to be perfumers, or painters: but goodness, which is the work, not of a man's hands, but of his soul, makes us not only admire what is done, but long to do the like. And therefore,' he says, he thought it good to write the lives 'of famous and good men, and to set their examples before his countrymen. And having begun to do this,' he says in another place, 'for the sake of others, he found himself going on, and liking his labour, for his own sake: for the virtues of those great men served him as a looking-glass, in which he might see how, more or less, to order and adorn his own life. Indeed, it could be compared,' he says, 'to nothing less than living with the great souls who were dead and gone, and choosing out of their actions all that was noblest and worthiest to know. What greater pleasure could there be than that,' he asks, 'or what better means to improve his soul? By filling his mind with pictures of the best and worthiest characters, he was able to free himself from any low, malicious, mean thoughts, which he might catch from bad company. If he was forced to mix at times with base men, he could wash out the stains of their bad thoughts and words, by training himself in a calm and happy temper to view those noble examples.' So says the wise heathen. Was not he happier, wiser, better, a thousand times, thus keeping himself humble by looking upwards, than if he had been feeding his petty pride by looking down, and saying, 'God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are?' If you wish, then, to be truly high-minded, by being truly humble, read of, and think of, better men, wiser men, braver men, more useful men than you are. Above all, if you be Christians, think of Christ himself. That good old heathen took the best patterns which he could find: but after all, they were but imperfect, sinful men: but you have an example such as he never dreamed of; a perfect man, and perfect God in one. Let the thought of Christ keep you always humble: and yet let it lift you up to the highest, noblest, purest thoughts which man can have, as it will. For all that this old heathen says of the use of examples of good men, all that, and far more, St. Paul says, almost in the same words. By looking at Christ, he says, we rise and sit with him in heavenly places, and enjoy the sight of His perfect goodness; ashamed of ourselves, indeed, and bowed to the very dust by the feeling of our own unworthiness; and yet filled with the thought of his worthiness, till, by looking we begin to admire, and, by admiring, we begin to love; and so are drawn and lifted up to him, till, by beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, and the perfect beauty of his character, we become changed into the same image, from glory to glory: and thus, instead of receiving the just punishment of pride and contempt, which is lowering our characters to the level of those on whom we look down, we shall receive the just reward of true humility, which is having our characters raised to the level of him up to whom we look. Oh young people, think of this; and remember why God has given you the advantage of scholarship and education. Not that you may be proud of the very little you know; not that you may look down on those who are not as well instructed as you are; not that you may waste your time over silly books, which teach you only to laugh at the follies and ignorance of some of your fellow-men, to whom God has not given as much as to you; but that you may learn what great and good men have lived, and still live, in the world; what wise, and good, and useful things have been, and are being, done all around you; and to copy them: above all, that you may look up to Christ, and through Christ, to God, and learn to copy him; till you come, as St. Paul says, to be perfect men; to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ. To which may he bring you all of his mercy. Amen. SERMON XXI. THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD (Trinity Sunday.) John v. 19. Then answered Jesus and said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, The Son can do nothing of himself, but what he seeth the Father do: for what things soever he doeth, these also doeth the Son likewise. This is Trinity Sunday; and on this day we are especially to think of the mystery of the ever-blessed Trinity, and on the Athanasian Creed, which was read this morning. Now there is much in this Athanasian Creed, which simple country people, however good their natural abilities may be, cannot be expected to understand. The Creed was written by scholars, and for scholars; and for very deep scholars, too, far deeper than I pretend to be; and the reasonable way for most men to think of the Athanasian Creed, will be to take it very much upon trust, as a child takes on trust what his father tells him, even though he cannot understand it himself; or, as we all believe, that the earth moves round the sun, and not the sun round the earth, though we cannot prove it; but only believe it, because wiser men than we have proved it. So we must think of the Athanasian Creed, and say to ourselves--'Wiser men than I can ever hope to be have settled that this is the true doctrine, and the true meaning of Holy Scripture, and I will believe them. They must know best.' Still, one is bound to understand as much as one can; one is bound to be able to give some reason for the faith which is in us; and, above all, one is bound not to hold false doctrines, which are contrary to the Athanasian Creed and to the Bible. Some people are too apt to say now-a-days, 'But what matter if one does hold false doctrine? That is a mistake of the head and not of the heart. Provided a man lives a good life, what matter what his doctrines are?' No doubt, my friends, if a man lives a good life, all is well: but _do_ people live good lives? I am not speaking of infidels. Thank God, there are none here; to God let us leave them, trusting in the Good Friday collect, and the goodwill of God, which is, that all should be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth. But, as for Christian people, this I will tell you, that unless you hold true doctrines, you will _not_ lead good lives. My experience is, that people are often wrong, when they say false doctrine is a mistake of the head and not of the heart. I believe false doctrine is very often not bred in the head at all, but in the heart, in the very bottom of a man's soul; that it rises out of his heart into his head; and that if his heart was right with God, he would begin at once to have clearer and truer notions of the true Christian faith. I do not say that it is always so; God forbid! But I do say that it is often so, because I see it so; because I see every day false doctrines about God making men lead bad lives, and commit actual sins; take God's name in vain, dishonour their fathers and mothers, lie, cheat, bear false witness against their neighbours, and covet other men's goods. I say, I see it, and I must believe my own eyes and ears; and when I do see it, I begin to understand the text which says, 'This is eternal life, to know thee, the only God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent;' and I begin to understand the Athanasian Creed, which says, that if a 'man does not believe rightly the name of God, and the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ, he will perish everlastingly; his soul will decay more and more, become more and more weak, unhealthy and corrupt, till he perishes everlastingly. And whatsoever that may mean, it must mean something most awful and terrible, worse than all the evil which ever happened to us since we were born. There is a very serious example of this, to my mind, in what is called the Greek Church; the Greeks and Russians. They split off from the rest of Christ's Catholic Church, many hundred years ago, because they would not hold with the rest of the Church that the Holy Spirit proceeded from the Son as well as from the Father. They said that the Holy Spirit proceeded from the Father alone. Now that may seem a slight matter of words: but I cannot help thinking that it has been a very solemn matter of practice with them. It seems to me--God forgive me if I am judging them hardly!--that because they denied that the Holy Spirit proceeded from the Son, they forgot that he was the Spirit of the Son, the Spirit of Jesus Christ, by whom he says for ever, 'Father, not my will but thine be done!' and so they forgot that the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Sonship, the Spirit of adoption, which must proceed and come from Christ to us, that we may call God our Father, and say with Christ, 'Father, I come to do thy will;' and so, in course of time, they seem to have forgotten that Christian men were in any real practical sense, God's children; and when people forget that they are God's children, they forget soon enough to behave like God's children, and to live righteous and Godlike lives. I give you this as an example of what I mean; how not believing rightly the Athanasian Creed may make a man lead a bad life. Now let me give an example nearer home; one which has to do with you and me. God grant that we may all lay it to heart. You read, in the Athanasian Creed, that we are not to confound the persons of the Trinity, nor divide the substance; but to believe that such as the Father is, such is the Son, and such is the Holy Ghost, the Glory equal, the Majesty co-eternal. Now there is little fear of our confounding the persons, as some people used to do in old times; but there is great fear of our dividing God's substance, parting God's substance, that is, fancying that God is made up of different parts, and not perfectly one God. For people are very apt to talk as if God's love and God's justice were two different things, different parts of God; as if his justice had to be satisfied in one way, and his love in another; as if his justice wished to destroy sinners, and his love wished to save sinners; and so they talk as if there was a division in God; as if different attributes of God were pulling two different ways, and that God has parts of which one desires to do one thing, and one part another. It sounds shocking, I am sure you will feel, when I put it into plain English. I wish it to sound shocking. I wish you to feel how wrong and heretical it is; that you may keep clear of such notions, and believe the orthodox faith, that God has neither parts nor passions, nor division in his substance at all, but is absolutely and substantially one; and that, therefore, his love and his justice are the very same things; his justice, however severe it may seem, is perfect love and kindness; and his love is no indulgence, but perfect justice. But you may say--Very likely that is true; but why need we take so much care to believe it? It is always worth while to know what is true. You are children of the Light, and of the Truth, adopted by the God of truth, that you may know the truth and do it, and no mistake or falsehood can, by any possibility, do anything for you, but harm you. Always, therefore, try to find out and believe what is true concerning everything; and, above all, concerning God, on whom all depend, in whom you live, and move, and have your being. For all things in heaven and earth depend on God; and, therefore, if you have wrong notions about God, you will sooner or later have wrong notions about everything else. For see, now, how this false notion of God's justice and love being different things, leads people into a worse error still. A man goes on to fancy, that while God the Son is full of love towards sinners, God the Father is (or at least was once) only full of justice and wrath against sinners; but if a man thinks that God the Son loves him better than God the Father does, then, of course, he will love God the Son better than he loves God the Father. He will think of Christ the Son with pleasure and gratitude, because he says to himself, Christ loves me, cares for me; I can have pity and tenderness from him, if I do wrong. While of God the Father he thinks only with dread and secret dislike. Thus, from dividing the substance, he has been led on to confound the persons, imputing to the Son alone that which is equally true of the Father, till he comes (as I have known men do) to make for himself, as it were, a Heavenly Father of Jesus Christ the Son. Now, my dear friends, it does seem to me, that if anything can grieve the Spirit of Christ, and the sacred heart of Jesus, this is the way to grieve him. Oh read your Bibles, and you will see this, that whatever Jesus came down on earth for, it certainly was not to make men love him better than they love the Father, and honour him more than they honour the Father, and rob the Father of his glory, to give it to Jesus. What did the Lord Jesus say himself? That he did not come to seek his own honour, or shew forth his own glory, or do his own will: but his Father's honour, his Father's glory, his Father's will. Though he was equal with the Father, as touching his Godhead, yet he disguised himself, if I may so say, and took on him the form of a servant, and was despised and rejected of men. Why! That men might honour his Father rather than him. That men might not be so dazzled by his glory, as to forget his Father's glory. Therefore he bade his apostles, while he was on earth, tell no man that he was the Christ. Therefore, when he worked his work of love and mercy, he took care to tell the Jews that they were not his works, but the works of his Father who sent him; that he was not doing his own will, but his Father's. Therefore he was always preaching of the Father in heaven, and holding him up to men as the perfection of all love and goodness and glory: and only once or twice, it seems, when he was compelled, as it were, for very truth's sake, did he say openly who he was, and claim his co-equal and co- eternal glory, saying, 'Before Abraham was, I am.' And, after all this, if anything can grieve him now, must it not grieve him to see men fancying that he is better than his Father is, more loving and merciful than his Father is, more worthy of our trust, and faith, and adoration, and gratitude than his Father is?-- His Father, for whose honour he was jealous with a divine jealousy-- His Father, who, he knows well, loved the world which shrinks from him so well that he spared not his only begotten Son, but freely gave him up for it. Oh, my friends, believe me, if any sin of man can add a fresh thorn to Christ's crown, it is to see men, under pretence of honouring him, dishonouring his Father. For just think for once of this--What nobler feeling on earth than the love of a son to his father? What greater pain to a good son than to see his father dishonoured, and put down below him? But what is the love of an earthly son to an earthly father, compared to the love of The Son to the Father? What is the jealousy of an earthly son for his father's honour, compared with the jealousy of God the Son for God the Father's honour? All men, the Father has appointed, are to honour the Son, even as they honour the Father. Because, as the Athanasian Creed says, 'such as the Father is, such is the Son.' But, if that be true, we are to honour the Father even as we honour the Son; because such as the Son is, such is the Father. Both are true, and we must believe both; and therefore we must not give to Christ the honour which we should to a loving friend, and give to the Father the honour which we should to an awful judge. We must give them both the same honour. If we have a godly fear of the Father, we ought to have a godly fear of Christ; and if we trust Christ, we ought to trust the Father also. We must believe that Jesus Christ, the Son, is the brightness of the Father's glory, and the express image of his person; and therefore we must believe that because Jesus is love, therefore the Father is love; because Jesus is long-suffering, therefore the Father is long-suffering; because Jesus came to save the world, therefore the Father must have sent him to save the world, or he would never have come; for he does nothing, he says, of himself. Because we can trust Jesus utterly, therefore we can trust the Father utterly. Because we believe that the Son has life in himself, to give to whomsoever he will, we must believe that the Father has life in himself likewise, and not, as some seem to fancy, only the power of death and destruction. Because nothing can separate us from the love of Jesus, nothing can separate us from the love of his Father and our Father, whose name is Light and Love. If we believe this, we shall indeed honour the Father, and indeed honour the Son likewise. But if we do not, we shall dishonour the Son, while we fancy we are honouring him: we shall rob Christ of his true glory, to give him a false glory, which he abhors. If we fancy that he does anything for us without his Father's commands; if we fancy that he feels anything for us which his Father does not feel, and has not always felt likewise: then we dishonour him. For his glory is to be a perfectly good and obedient Son, and we fancy him--may he forgive us for it!--a self-willed Son. This is Christ's glory, that though he is equal with his Father, he obeys his Father. If he were not equal to his Father, there would be less glory in his obeying him. Take away the mystery of the ever-blessed Trinity, and you rob Christ of his highest glory, and destroy the most beautiful thing in heaven, except one. The most beautiful and noble thing of all in heaven--that (if you will receive it) out of which all other beautiful and noble things in heaven and earth come, is the Father for ever saying to the Son, 'Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee. And in thee I am well pleased.' The other most beautiful thing is the co-equal and co-eternal Son for ever saying to the Father, 'Father, not my will, but thine be done. I come to do thy will, O God. Thy law is written in my heart.' Do you not see it? Oh, my dear friends, I see but a very little of it. Who am I, that I should comprehend God? And who am I, that I should be able to make you understand the glory of God, by any dull words of mine? But God can make you understand it. The Spirit of God can and will shew you the glory of God. Because he proceedeth from the Father, he will shew you what the glory of the Father is like. Because he proceedeth from the Son, he will shew you what the glory of the Son is like. Because he is consubstantial, co-equal, and co-eternal with the Father and the Son, he will shew you that the glory of the Father and the Son is not the glory of mere power; but a moral and spiritual glory, the glory of having a perfectly glorious, noble, and beautiful character. And unless he shews you that, you will never be thoroughly good men. For it is a strange thing that men are always trying, more or less, to be like God. And yet, not a strange thing; for it is a sign that we all came from God, and can get no rest till we are come back to God, because God calls us all to be his children and be like him. A blessed thing it is, if we try to be like the true God: but a sad and fearful thing, if we try to be like some false god of our own invention. But so it is. It was so even among the old heathen. Whatsoever a man fancies God to be like, that he will try himself to be like. So if you fancy than God the Father's glory is stern and awful power, that he is extreme to mark what is done amiss, or stands severely on his own rights, then you will do the same; you will be extreme to mark what is done amiss; you will stand severely on your rights; you will grow stern and harsh, unfeeling to your children and workmen, and fond of shewing your power, just for the sake of shewing it. But if you believe that the glory of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is all one; and that it is a loving glory if you believe that such as Jesus Christ is, such is his Father, gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repenting him of the evil; if you believe that your Father in heaven is perfect, just because he sendeth his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust, and is good to the unthankful and the evil-- if you believe this, I say, then you will be good to the unthankful and the evil; you will be long-suffering and tender; good fathers, good masters, good neighbours; and your characters will become patient, generous, forgiving, truly noble, truly godlike. And all because you believe the Athanasian Creed in spirit and in truth. In like manner, if you believe that Jesus Christ is not a perfect Son; if you fancy that he has any will but his Father's will; that he has any work but what his Father gives him to do, who has committed all things into his hands; that he knows anything but what his Father sheweth him, who sheweth him all things, because he loveth him; then you will be tempted to wish for power and honour of your own; to become ambitious, self-willed, vain, and disobedient to your parents. But if you believe that Jesus is a perfect Son, all that you would wish your son to be to you, and millions of times more; and if you believe that that very thing is Christ's glory; that his glory consists in being a perfect Son, perfectly obedient, having no will or wish but his Father's; then will you, by thus seeing Christ in spirit and in truth, see how beautiful and noble it is to be good sons; and you will long to try to be good sons: and what you long for, and try for, you will surely be, in God's good time; for he has promised,--'Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.' And all through believing the Athanasian Creed? All? Yes, all. But will not the Holy Spirit teach us, without the Athanasian Creed? The Holy Spirit will teach us. Must teach us, if we are really to learn one word of all this in spirit and in truth. But whether the Holy Spirit does teach us, will depend, I fear, very much upon whether we pray for him; and whether we pray for him aright will depend on whether we know who he is, and what he is like; and that, again, the Athanasian Creed will tell us. Now, go home with God's blessing. Remember that such as the Son is, such is the Father, and such is the Holy Ghost. Pray to be made good fathers, after the likeness of The Father, from whom every fatherhood in heaven and earth is named; good sons, after the likeness of God The Son; and good and holy spirits, after the likeness of The Holy Spirit; and you will be such at last, in God's good time, as far as man can become like God; for you will be praying for the Holy Spirit himself, and he will hear you, and come to you, and abide with you, and all will be well. SERMON XXII. THE TORMENT OF FEAR (First Sunday after Trinity.) 1 John iv. 16, 18. And we have known and believed the love that God hath to us. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. Herein is our love made perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment: because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love. The text tells us how to get one of the greatest blessings; a blessing which all long for, but all do not find; and that is a happy death. All wish to die happily; even bad men. Like Balaam when he was committing a great sin, they can say, 'Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.' But meanwhile, like Balaam, they find it too hard to live the life of the righteous, which is the only way to die the death of the righteous. But something within them (if false preachers will but leave them alone) tells them that they will not succeed. Reason and common sense tell them so: for how can a man expect to get to a place without travelling the road which leads to it? And the Spirit of God, the Spirit of truth and right, tells them that they will not succeed: for how can a man win happiness, save by doing right? Every one shall 'receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad.' So says Scripture; and so say men's own hearts, by the inspiration of God's Holy Spirit. And therefore such men's fear of death continues. And why? The text tells us the secret. As long as we do not love God, we shall be tormented with fear of death. And as long as we do not love our neighbour, we shall not love God. We may try, as thousands have tried, and as thousands try still, to love God without loving their neighbour; to be very religious, and worship God, and sing His praises, and think over all His mercy to them, and all that he has done for them, by the death of His blessed Son Jesus Christ; and so to persuade themselves and God that they love Him, while they keep in their hearts selfishness, pride, spite, uncharitableness: but they do not succeed. If they think they succeed, they are only deceiving themselves. So says St. John. 'He who loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?' But they cannot deceive themselves long. You will see, if you watch such people, and still more if you watch yourselves, that if you do not love your neighbours in spirit and in truth, then those tormenting fears soon come back again, worse than ever. Ay, whenever we indulge ourselves in hard words and cruel judgments, the thought of God seems darkened to us there and then; the face of God seems turned from us; and peace of mind and brightness of spirit, and lightness of soul, do not come back to us, till we have confessed our sins, and have let the kindly, the charitable, the merciful thoughts rise up in us once more, as, by the grace of Christ, they will rise up. Yes, my friends, as far as I can see, people are filled with the peace of God just in as far as they are at peace with their fellow- men. They are bright, calm, and content, looking forward with cheerfulness to death, and with a humble and holy boldness to judgment, just in as far as their hearts are filled with love, gentleness, kindness, to all that God has made. They dwell in God, and God in them, and perfect love has cast out fear. But if a man does not live in love, then sooner or later he will hear a voice within him, which whispers, Thou art going wrong; and, if thou art going wrong, how canst thou end at the right place? None but the right road can end there. The wrong road must lead to the wrong place. Then the man gets disturbed and terrified in his mind, and tormented with fears, as the text says. He knows that the day of judgment is coming, and he has no boldness to meet it. He shrinks from the thought of death, of judgment, of God. He thinks--How shall I meet my God? I do not love my neighbour. I do not love God; and God does not love me. The truth is, that the man cannot love God even if he will. He looks on God as his enemy, whom he has offended, who is coming to take vengeance on him. And, as long as we are afraid of any one, and fancy that they hate us, and are going to hurt us, we cannot love them. So the man is tormented with fear; fear of death, fear of judgment, fear of meeting God. Then he takes to superstition; he runs from preacher to preacher; and what not?--There is no folly men have not committed, and do not commit still, to rid themselves of that tormenting fear. But they do not rid themselves of it. Sermons, church-goings, almsgivings; leaving the Church and turning Dissenters or Roman Catholics; joining this sect and that sect; nothing will rid a man of his superstitious fear: nothing but believing the blessed message of the text. And what does the text say? It says this,--'God is love.' God does not hate thee, He loves thee. He willeth not thy death, O sinner, but rather that thou shouldest turn from thy wickedness and live. Thy sins have not made Him hate thee: but only pity thee; pity thy folly, which will lead on the road to death, when He wishes to put thee on the road to life, that thou mayest have boldness in the day of judgment, instead of shrinking from God like a guilty coward. And what is the way of life? Surely the way of Christ, who _is_ the life. Live like Him, and thou wilt not need to fear to die. So says the text. We are to have boldness in the day of judgment, because as Christ is, so are we in this world. And how was, and is, and ever will be, Christ in this world? Full of love; of brotherly- kindness, charity, forgiveness, peace, and good will to men. That, says St. John, is the life which brings a joyful death; for God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. Oh consider this, my good friends. Consider this; lest when you come to die the ghosts of all your sins should rise up at your bedside, and torment you with fear--the ghosts of every cruel word which you ever spoke against your fellow men; of every kind action which you neglected; as well as of every unjust one which you ever committed. And, if they do rise up in judgment against you, what must you do? Cast yourself upon the love of God, and remember that God is love, and so loved us that He sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Ask Him to forgive you your sins, for the sake of that precious blood which was shed on the cross: but not that you may keep your sins, and may escape the punishment of them. God forbid. What use in having your past sins forgiven, if the sinful heart still remains to run up fresh sins for the future? No. Ask Him not merely to forgive the past, but to mend the future; to create in you a new heart, which wishes no ill to any human being, and a right spirit, which desires first and utterly to do right, and is filled with the Holy Spirit of God, the Spirit of love, by which God made and redeemed the world, and all that therein is. So will all tormenting fears cease. You will feel yourself in the right way, the way of charity, the way in which Christ walked in this world, and have boldness in the day of judgment, facing death without conceit, indeed, but also without superstitious fear. SERMON XXIII. THE FLESH AND THE SPIRIT (Eighth Sunday after Trinity.) Romans viii. 12. Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh; for if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die. What does walking after the flesh mean? St. Paul tells us himself, in Gal. v., where he uses exactly the same form of words which he does here. 'The works of the flesh,' he says, 'are manifest.' When a man gives way to his passions and appetites--when he cares only about enjoying his own flesh, and the pleasures which he has in common with the brutes, then there is no mistake about the sort of life which he will lead--'Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these; adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like.' An ugly list, my friends; and God have mercy on the man who gives way to them. For disgraceful as they are to him, and tormenting also to him in this life, the worst is, that if he gives way to them, he will die. I do not mean that he will bring his mortal body to an untimely end; that he will ruin his own health; or that he will get himself hanged, though that is likely enough--common enough. I think St. Paul means something even worse than that. The man himself will die. Not his body merely: but his soul, his character, will die. All in him that God made, all that God intended him to be, will die. All that his father and mother loved in him, all that they watched over, and hoped and prayed that it might grow up into life, in order that he might become the man God meant him to be, all that will die. His soul and character will become one mass of disease. He will think wrong, feel wrong, about everything of which he does think and feel: while, about the higher matters, of which every man ought to know something, he will not think or feel at all. Love to his country, love to his own kinsfolk even; above all, love to God, will die in him, and he will care for nothing but himself, and how to get a little more foul pleasure before he goes out of this world, he dare not think whither. All power of being useful will die in him. Honour and justice will die in him. He will be shut up in himself, in the ugly prison-house of his own lusts and passions, parted from his fellow-men, caring nothing for them, knowing that they care nothing for him. He will have no faith in man or God. He will believe no good, he will have no hope, either for himself or for the world. This, this is death, indeed; the death of sin; the death in which human beings may go on for years, walking, eating, and drinking; worse than those who walk in their sleep, and see nothing, though their eyes are staring wide. Oh pitiable sight! The most pitiable sight in the whole world, a human soul dead and rotten in sin! It is a pitiable sight enough, to see a human body decayed by disease, to see a poor creature dying, even quietly and without pain. Pitiable, but not half so pitiable as the death of a human soul by sin. For the death of the body is not a man's own fault. But that death in life of sin, is a man's own fault. In a Christian country, at least, it is a man's own fault, if he goes about the world, as I have seen many a one go, having a name to live, and yet dead in trespasses and sins, while his soul only serves to keep his body alive and moving. How shall we escape this death in life? St. Paul tells us, 'If ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live.' Through the Spirit. The Spirit of God and of Christ. Keep that in mind, for that is the only way, the right way, to mortify and kill in us these vices and passions, which, unless we kill them, will kill us. The only way. For men have tried other ways in old times, do try other ways now: but they fail. I could mention many plans which they have tried. But I will only mention the one which you and I are likely to try. A young man runs wild for a few years, as young men are too apt to do: but at last he finds that ill-living does not _pay_. It hurts his health, his pocket, his character. He makes himself ill; he cannot get employed; he has ruin staring him in the face, from his wild living. He must mend. If he intends to keep out of the workhouse, the gaol, the grave, he must mortify the deeds of the body. He must bridle his passions, give up lying about, drinking, swearing, cheating, running after bad women: and if he has a strong will, he does it from mere selfish prudence. But is he safe? I think not, as long as he loves still the bad ways he has given up. He has given them up, not because he hates them, because he is ashamed of them, because he knows them to be hateful to God, and ruinous to his own soul: but because they do not pay. The man himself is not changed. His heart within is not converted. The outside of his life is whitewashed; but his heart may be as foul as ever; as full as ever of selfishness, greediness, meanness. And what happens to him? Too often, what happened to the man in the parable, when the unclean spirit went out of him, and came back again. The unclean spirit found his home swept and garnished: but empty. All very neat and respectable: but empty. There was no other spirit dwelling there. No good spirit, who could fight the unclean spirit and keep him out. So he took to himself seven other spirits worse than himself--hypocrisy, cant, cunning, covetousness, and all the smooth-shaven sins which beset middle-aged and elderly men; and they dwell there, and so does the unclean spirit of youth too. Alas! How often have I seen men whom that description would fit but too well--men who have kept themselves respectable till they have got back their character in the world's eyes: and when they get into years, and have risen perhaps in life, and made money, are looked up to by their fellows: but what are they at heart? As great scoundrels as they were thirty years before--cunning, false, covetous, and hypocritical--and indulging, perhaps, the unclean spirit of youth, as much as they dare without being found out. God help them! for their last state is worse than their first. But that is the fruit of trying to mortify and kill their own vices by mere worldly prudence, and not by the Spirit of God, which alone can cleanse the heart of any man, or make him strong enough really to conquer and kill his sins. And what is this spirit of God? We may know in this way. What says our Lord in the Gospel? 'The tree is known by its fruits.' Then if we know the fruits of the Spirit, we shall surely know something at least of what the Spirit is like. What then says St. Paul, 'The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.' Therefore the Spirit is a loving spirit--a peaceable, a gentle, a good, a faithful, a sober and temperate spirit. And if you follow it, you will live. If you give yourselves up honestly, frankly, and fully, to be led by that good spirit, and obey it when it prompts you with right feelings, you, your very self, will live. You will be what God intended you to be; you will grow as God intended you to grow; grow as Christ did, in grace; in all which is graceful, amiable, worthy of respect and love; and therefore in favour with God and man. Your character will improve and strengthen day by day; and rise day by day to fuller, stronger, healthier spiritual life. You will be able more and more to keep down low passions, evil tempers, and all the works of the flesh, when they tempt you; you will despise and hate them more and more; for having seen the beauty of goodness, you will see the ugliness of sin. So the bad passions and tempers, instead of being merely put to sleep for a while to wake up all the stronger for their rest, will be really mortified and killed in you. They will die out of you; and you, the real _you_ whom God made, will live and grow continually. And, instead of having your character dragged down, diseased, and at last ruined, it will rise and progress, as you grow older, in the sure and safe road of eternal life. To which God bring us all in his mercy! Amen. SERMON XXIV. THE UNRIGHTEOUS MAMMON (Ninth Sunday after Trinity.) Luke xvi. 1-8. And he said also unto his disciples, There was a certain rich man, which had a steward; and the same was accused unto him that he had wasted his goods. And he called him, and said unto him, How is it that I hear this of thee? give an account of thy stewardship; for thou mayest be no longer steward. Then the steward said within himself, What shall I do? for my lord taketh away from me the stewardship: I cannot dig; to beg I am ashamed. I am resolved what to do, that, when I am put out of the stewardship, they may receive me into their houses. So he called every one of his lord's debtors unto him, and said unto the first, How much owest thou unto my lord? And he said, An hundred measures of oil. And he said unto him, Take thy bill, and sit down quickly, and write fifty. Then said he to another, And how much owest thou? And he said, An hundred measures of wheat. And he said unto him, Take thy bill and write fourscore. And the lord commended the unjust steward, because he had done wisely: for the children of this world are in their generation wiser than the children of light. This parable has always been considered a difficult one to understand. Fathers and Divines, in all ages, have tried to explain it in different ways; and have never, it seems to me, been satisfied with their own explanations. They have always felt it strange, that our Lord should seem to hold up, as an example to us, this steward who, having been found out in one villainy, escapes, (so it seems, from the common explanation) by committing a second. They have not been able to see either, how we are really to copy the steward. Our Lord says, that we are to copy him by making ourselves friends of the Mammon of unrighteousness: but how? By giving away a few alms, or a great many? Does any rational man seriously believe, that if his Mammon was unrighteous, that is, if his wealth were ill-gotten, he would save his soul, and be received into eternal life, for giving away part of it, or even the whole of it? No doubt, there always have been men who will try. Men who, having cheated their neighbours all their lives, have tried to cheat the Devil at last, by some such plan as the unjust steward's, but that plan has never been looked on as either a very honourable or a very hopeful one. I think, that if I had been an usurer or a grinder of the poor all my life, I should not save my soul by founding almshouses with my money when I died, or even ten years before I died. It might be all that I was able to do: but would it justify me in the sight of God? That which saves a soul alive is repentance; and of repentance there are three parts, contrition, confession, and satisfaction--in plain English, making the wrong right, and giving each man back, as far as one can, what one has taken from him. To each man, I say; for I have no right to rob one man and then give to another. I ought to give back again to the man whom I have robbed. I have no right to cheat the rich for the sake of the poor; and after I have cheated the rich, I do not make satisfaction, either to god or man, by giving that money to the poor. Good old Zaccheus, the publican, knew better what true satisfaction was like. He had been gaining money not altogether in an unjust way, but in a way which did him no credit; he had been farming the taxes, and he was dissatisfied with his way of life. Therefore, Behold, Lord, he says, the half of my goods, of what I have a right to in the world's eyes--what is my own, and I could keep if I liked--I give to the poor. But if I have done wrong to any man, I restore to him fourfold. Then said the Lord, 'This day is salvation come to this man's house; forsomuch as he also is a son of Abraham;' a just and faithful man, who knows what true repentance is. But now, my friends, suppose that this was just what our Lord tells us to do in this parable. Suppose that this was just what the unjust steward did. I only say, suppose; for I know that more learned men than I explain the difficulty otherwise. Only I ask you to hear my explanation. The steward is accused of wasting his lord's goods. He will be put out of his stewardship. He goes to his lord's debtors, and bids them write themselves down in debt to him at far less sums than they had thought that they owed. Now, suppose that these debtors were the very men whom he had been cheating. Suppose that he had been overcharging these debtors; and now, in his need, had found out that honesty was the best policy, and charged them what they really owed him. They were, probably, tenants under his lord, paying their rents in kind, as was often the custom in the East. One rented an olive garden, and paid for it so many measures of oil; another rented corn-land, and paid so many measures of meal. Now suppose that the steward, as he easily might, had been setting these poor men's rents too high, and taking the surplus himself. That while he had been charging one tenant a hundred, he had been paying to his lord only fifty, and so forth. What does he do, then, in his need? He does justice to his lord's debtors. He tells them what their debts really are. He sets their accounts right. Instead of charging the first man a hundred, he charges him fifty; instead of charging the second a hundred, he charges him eighty; and he does not, as far as we are told, conceal this conduct from his lord. He rights them as far as he can now. So he shews that he honestly repents. He has found out that honesty is the best policy; that the way to make true friends is to deal justly by them; and, if he cannot restore what he has taken from them already (for I suppose he had spent it), at least to confess his sin to them, and to set the matter right for the time to come. This, I think, is what our Lord bids us do, if we have wronged any man, and fouled our hands with the unrighteous mammon, that is, with ill-gotten wealth. And I think so all the more from the verses which come after. For, when he has said, 'Make yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness,' he goes on in the very next verse to say, 'He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in that which is much. If, therefore, ye have not been faithful in the unrighteous mammon, who will commit to your trust the true riches?' Now, surely, this must have something to do with what goes before. And, if it has, what can it mean but this--that the way to make friends out of the mammon of unrighteousness, is to be faithful in it, just in it, honest in it? But some one may say, If mammon be unrighteous, how can a man be righteous and upright in dealing with it? If money be a bad thing in itself, how can a man meddle with it with clean hands? So some people will say, and so some will be glad to say. But why? Because they do not want to be righteous, upright, just, and honest in their money dealings; and, therefore, they are glad to make out that they could not be upright if they tried; because money being a bad thing altogether, a man must needs, if he has to do with money, do things which he knows are wrong. I say some people are glad to believe that. I do not mean any one in this congregation. God forbid! I mean in the world in general. We do see people, religious people too, do things about money which they know are mean, covetous, cruel, and then excuse themselves by saying,--'Well, of course I would not do so to my own brother; but, in the way of business, one can't help doing these things.' Now, I do not quite believe them. I have seldom seen the man who cheated his neighbour, who would not cheat his own brother if he had a chance: but so they say. And, if they be religious people, they will quote Scripture, and say,--Ah! it is the fault of the unrighteous mammon; and, in dealing with the unrighteous mammon, we cannot help these little failings, and so forth: till they seem to have two quite different rules of right and wrong; one for the saving of their own souls, which they keep to when they are hearing sermons, and reading good books; and the other for money, which they keep to when they have to pay their debts or transact business. Now, my dear friends, be not deceived: God is not mocked. God tempts no man. Man tempts himself by his own lusts and passions. God does not tempt us when he gives us money, puts us in the way of earning money, or spending money. Money is not bad in itself; wealth is not bad in itself. If mammon be unrighteous, we make money into mammon, when we make an idol of it, and worship it more than God's law of right and justice. We make it unrighteous, by being unrighteous, and unjust ourselves. Money is good; for money stands for capital; for money's worth; for houses, land, food, clothes, all that man can make; and they stand for labour, employment, wages; and they stand for human beings, for the bodily life of man. Without wealth, where should we be now? If God had not given to man the power of producing wealth, where should we be now? Not here. Four-fifths of us would not have been alive at all. Instead of eight hundred people in this parish, all more or less well off, there would be, perhaps, one hundred--perhaps far less, living miserably on game and roots. Instead of thirty millions of civilized people in Great Britain, there would be perhaps some two or three millions of savages. Money, I say, stands for the lives of human beings. Therefore money is good; an ordinance and a gift of God; as it is written, 'It is God that giveth the power to get wealth.' But, like every other good gift of God, we may use it as a blessing; or we may misuse it, and make it a snare and a curse to our own souls. If we let into our hearts selfishness and falsehood; if we lose faith in God, and fancy that God's laws are not well-made enough to prosper us, but that we must break them if we want to prosper; then we turn God's good gift into an idol and a snare; into the unrighteous Mammon. It is not the quantity of money we have to deal with which is the snare, it is our own lusts and covetousness which are the snares. It is just as easy to sell our souls for five pounds as for five thousand. It is just as easy to be mean and tricky about paying little debts of a shilling or two, as it is about whole estates. I do not see that rich people are at all more unjust about money than poor ones; and if any say: Yes, but the poor are tempted more than the rich; I answer, then look at those who are neither poor nor rich; who have enough to live on decently, and are not tempted as the poor are, to steal, or tempted as the rich are, to luxury and extravagance. Are they more honest than either rich or poor? Not a whit. All depends on the man's heart. If his heart be selfish and mean, he will be dishonest as a poor man, as a middle-class man, as a great lord. If his heart be faithful and true, he will be honest, whether he lives in a cottage or in a palace. Any man can do justly, and love mercy, if his heart be right with God. I have seen day-labourers who had a hard struggle to live at all, keep out of debt, and out of shame, and live in a noble poverty, rich in the sight of God, because their hearts were rich in goodness. I have seen tradesmen and farmers, among all the temptations of business, keep their honour as bright as any gentleman's--brighter than too many gentlemen's, because they had learnt to fear God and work righteousness. I have seen great merchants and manufacturers, because that they were their brothers' keepers, spread not only employment, but comfort, education, and religion, among the hundreds of workmen whom God had put into their charge. I have seen great landowners live truly royal lives, doing with all their might the good which their hand found to do; and, after the likeness of their heavenly Father, causing their sun to shine on the evil and on the good, and their rain to fall on the just and on the unjust. Yes; in every station of life, thy dealings will be right with men, if thy heart be right with God. Yes. Let us bear in mind this--that whatever we cannot be, we can at least be honest men. Let us go to our graves, if possible, with the feeling that there is not a man on earth, a penny the worse for us. And if we have ever fouled our hands with the unrighteous Mammon, let us cleanse them by the only possible plan, by making restitution to those whom we have wronged; and so make friends of the Mammon of unrighteousness, who shall forgive us, and receive us as friends in heaven, instead of making enemies, and going out of the world with the fearful thought, that we shall meet at God's judgment-seat people whom we have made miserable, who will rise up to accuse us, and demand payment of us when it is too late for ever. Let us bear in mind, even though we cannot copy, the dying words of Muhammed the Arab, who, when he found his end draw near, went forth into the market-place, and asked before all the people, 'Was there any man whom he had wronged? If so, his own back should bear the stripes. Was there any man to whom he owed money? and he should be paid.' 'Yes,' cried some one, 'those coins which you borrowed from me on such a day.' 'Pay him,' said Muhammed: 'better to be shamed now on earth, than shamed in the day of judgment.' He was a heathen. And shall we Christians be worse than he? Then let us pray for the Holy Spirit of God, the Spirit of truth, which will make us faithful and true; so that no man may be the worse for us in this life; no man may have to say of us, when he hears that we lie dying, 'He wronged me, he cheated me, he lied to me; God forgive him:' but that our friends, as they carry us to the grave, may feel that they have lost one whom they could respect and trust; and say, as the earth rattles in upon the coffin lid, 'There lies an honest man.' SERMON XXV. THE SIGHS OF CHRIST (Twelfth Sunday after Trinity.) Mark vii. 34, 35. And looking up to heaven, he sighed, and saith unto him, Ephphatha, that is, Be opened. And straightway his ears were opened, and the string of his tongue was loosed, and he spake plain. Why did the Lord Jesus look up to heaven? And why, too, did he sigh? He looked up to heaven, we may believe, because he looked to God the Father; to God, of whom the glorious collect tells us, that he is more ready to hear than we to pray, and is wont to give more than either we desire or deserve. He looked up to the Father, who is the fountain of life, of order, of health, of usefulness; who hates all death, disease, infirmity; who wills that none should perish, body or soul. My friends, think of these cheering words; and try to look up to God the Father, as Christ looked up. Look up to him I say, if but once, as a Father. Not merely as your Father, but as the Father of the spirits of all flesh; the good God who creates, and delights to create; who orders all worlds and heavens with perfect wisdom, perfect power, perfect justice, perfect love; and peoples them with immortal souls and spirits, that they may be useful, happy, blessed, in keeping his laws, and doing the work which he has ordained for them. Oh think, if but once, of God the perfect and all-loving Father; and then you will know why Jesus looked up to him. And you will see, too, why Jesus sighed. He sighed because he was one with the Father. He sighed because he had the mind of God. Because God, the Lord of health and order, hates disease and disorder. Because God, the Lord of bliss and happiness, hates misery and sorrow. Because God made the world at first very good; and, behold, by man's sin, it has become bad. Why did he sigh? Surely, also, from pity for the poor man. His infirmity was no such great one; he had an impediment in his speech, and with it, as many are apt to have, deafness also: but it was an infirmity. It was a disease. It was something out of order, something gone wrong in God's world; and as such, Christ could not abide it; he grieved over it. He sighed because there was sickness in a world where there ought to be nothing but health, and sorrow where there ought to be nothing but happiness. He sighed, because man had brought this sickness and sorrow on himself by sin; for, remember, man alone is subject to disease. The wild animal in the wood, the bird upon the tree, seldom or never know what sickness is; seldom or never are stunted or deformed. They live according to their nature, healthy and happy, and die in a good old age. While man--Why should I talk of what man is, of how far man is fallen from what God the Father meant him to be, while one hundred thousand corpses of brave men are now fattening the plains of Italy for next year's crop; while even in our favoured land, we find at every turn prisons and reformatories, lunatic asylums, hospitals for numberless kinds of horrible diseases; sickness, weakness, and death all round us? Only look up yonder to Windsor Forest, and see the vast building now in progress there before your eyes, for lunatic convicts--the most miserable, perhaps, and pitiable of human beings,--and let that building be a sign to you, how far man is fallen, and what cause Jesus had to sigh, and has to sigh still, over the miseries of fallen man. Yes, my friends, not without reason did the old heathen poet, who had no sure and certain hope of everlasting life, say, that man was the most wretched of all the beasts of the field; not without reason did St. Paul say, that if in this life only we have hope in Christ, then the Christian man, who dare not indulge his passions and appetites, dare not say, Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die: but must curb himself, and give up his own pleasure and his own fancy at every turn, is of all men most miserable. If Christ's work is done; if his mercy and help ended when he died upon the cross; if all he did was to heal the sick for three short years in Judea a long while ago: then what have we to which we can look forward? What hope have we, not merely for ourselves, who are here now, but for all the millions who have died and suffered already? Yes: what reasonable hope for mankind can they have, who do not believe that Christ is Very God of Very God, the perfect likeness of the heavenly Father? But what if that which was true of him then, is true of him now? What if he be the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever? What if he be ascended on high, that he might fill all things with his almighty power, and declare that almighty power most chiefly by shewing mercy and pity? What if he be for ever looking up to his Father and our Father, to his God and our God, interceding for ever for mankind; for ever offering up to the Father that sacrifice of himself which he perfected upon the Cross, for the sins of the whole world? What if he be for ever sighing over every sin, every sorrow, every cruelty, every injustice, over all things, great and small, which go wrong throughout the whole world; and saying for ever, 'Father, this is not according to thy will. Let thy will be done on earth, as in heaven.' And what, if he does not look up in vain, nor sigh in vain? What if the will of God the Father be, that sin and sorrow, disease and death, being contrary to his will and law, should be at last rooted out of this world, and all worlds for ever? What if Christ have authority and commission from God to fight against all evil, sin, disease, and death, and all the ills which flesh is heir to; and to teach men to fight them likewise, till they conquer them by his might, and by his light? What if he reigns, and will reign, till he has put all enemies under his feet, and he has delivered up the kingdom to God, even the Father, that God may be all in all? What if the day shall come, when all the nations of the earth shall thus see Christ's good works, and glorify his Father and their Father who is in heaven? and by obeying the Law of their being, and the commandment of God, which is life eternal, shall live for ever in that glory, of which it is written, that a river of water of life shall proceed out of the throne of God and of the Lamb; and the leaves of the trees which grow thereby shall be for the healing of the nations; and there shall be no more curse, but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in the city of God, and his servants shall serve him; and the Lord God shall give them light; and they shall reign for ever and ever. What those words mean I know not, and hardly dare to think: but as long as those words stand in the Bible, we will have hope. For God the Father, who willeth that none should perish, and Jesus the only- begotten Son, who sighed over the poor man's infirmity in Judea, are the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. SERMON XXVI. THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA (Twelfth Sunday after Trinity, 1856.) 2 Kings xviii. 9-12. And it came to pass in the fourth year of King Hezekiah, which was the seventh year of Hoshea son of Elah king of Israel, that Shalmaneser, king of Assyria, came up against Samaria, and besieged it. And at the end of three years they took it: even in the sixth year of Hezekiah, that is the ninth year of Hoshea king of Israel, Samaria was taken. And the king of Assyria did carry away Israel unto Assyria, and put them in Halah and in Habor by the river of Gozon, and in the cities of the Medes: because they obeyed not the voice of the Lord their God, but transgressed his covenant, and all that Moses the servant of the Lord commanded, and would not hear them, nor do them. These are very simple words: but they are awful words enough. Awful enough to the poor creatures of whom they speak. You here, most of you, can hardly guess all that these words mean. You may thank God that you do not. That you do not know the horrors of war, and the misery of a conquered country, in old times. To lose all they had ever earned; all that makes life worth having. To have their homes burnt over their heads, their crops carried off their fields. To see their women dishonoured, their old men and children murdered--to be insulted, beaten, and tortured to make them tell where their money was hidden; and after they and theirs had suffered every unspeakable shame and misery from the hands of brutal enemies, to be stripped, bound, and marched away, for hundreds of miles across the deserts, into the cold and dreary mountains of the north of Assyria, there to live and die as slaves, and never again to see their native land. And such a land as it was, and is still: or rather might be still, if there were men in it worthy the name of men. For of all countries in the world, that land of Israel is one of the most rich and beautiful. The climate and the soil there is such, that two crops can often be grown in the year, of almost any kind which man may need; there are rich valleys well watered, where not only wheat and every grain-crop, but the olive, and the fig, and the vine, flourish in perfection; rich park-like uplands, where sheep and cattle without number may find pasture; great forests of timber, fit for every use; and all kept cool and fruitful, even beneath that burning eastern sun, by the clear streams which flow for ever down from Hermon. the great snow-mountain ten thousand feet high, which overlooks that pleasant land. There is hardly, travellers say, a lovelier or richer country upon earth, than the land of Israel, from Hebron on the south to Hermon on the north; nor a country which might have been stronger, and safer, and more prosperous, if these Jews had been but wise. It is, so to speak, one great castle, rising most of it two thousand feet high, and walled in by God in a way as is seen hardly in any other land. On the west lies the sea; on the south and on the east vast wildernesses of sandy desert; and on the north, the mighty mountains of Hermon and Lebanon, which no invading army could have crossed, if the Jews had had courage to keep them out. And that, the noble and divine Law of Moses would have given them. It would have made them one free, brave, God-fearing people, at unity with itself; and the promise of Moses would have been fulfilled--that one of them should chase a thousand, and no man or nation be able to stand against them. In David's time, and in Solomon's time also, that promise came true; and that small people of the Jews became a very powerful nation, respected and feared by all the kingdoms round. But when they fell into idolatry, and forsook the true God, and his law: all was changed. Idolatry brought sin, and sin brought bad passions, hatred, division, weakness, ruin. The first beginning was, the breaking up of the nation into two;-- the kingdom of Judah to the south, the kingdom of Israel to the north. And with that division came envy, spite, quarrels; wars between Israel and Judah, which were but madness. For what could come of those two brother-nations fighting against each other, but that both should grow weaker and weaker, and so fall a prey to some third nation stronger than them both? The ruin of the kingdom of Israel, of which the text tells us, arose out of some unnatural quarrel of this kind. Pekah, the king of Israel, had made friends with the heathen king of Syria, and got him to join in making war on Judah: and a fearful war it was; for the Israelites, according to one account, killed in that war a hundred and twenty thousand of the Jews, men of their own blood and language, all Abraham's descendants as well as they. On which, Ahaz, king of Judah, not to be behind- hand in folly, sent to the heathen king of Assyria to help him, just as the king of Israel had sent to the king of Damascus. He had better have been dead than to have done that. For those terrible Assyrians, who had set their hearts on conquering the whole east, were standing by, watching all the little kingdoms round tearing themselves to pieces by foolish wars, till they were utterly weak, and the time was ripe for the Assyrians to pounce upon them. The king of Assyria came. He swept away all the heathen people of Damascus, and killed their king. But he did not stop there. In a very few years, he came on into the land of Israel, besieged Samaria for three years, and took it, and carried off the whole of the inhabitants of the country; and there was an end of that miserable kingdom of Israel, which had been sinking lower and lower ever since the days of Jeroboam. This was the natural outcome of all their sin and folly, of which we have been reading for the last few Sundays. Elijah's warnings had been in vain, and Elisha's warnings also. They liked, at heart, Ahab's and Jezebel's idolatries better than they did the worship of the true God. And why? Because, if they worshipped God, and kept his laws, they must needs have been more or less good men, upright, just, merciful, cleanly and chaste livers: while, on the other hand, they might worship their idols, and nevertheless be as bad as they chose. Indeed, the very idol-feasts and sacrifices were mixed up with all sorts of filthy sin, drunkenness and profligacy; so that it is a shame even to speak of the things which went on, especially at those sacrifices to Ashtaroth, the queen of heaven, of which they were so fond. They choose the worse part, and refused the better; and they were filled with the fruit of their own devices, as every unrepenting sinner surely will be. But did the Jews of Judea and their king escape, who had thus brought the king of Assyria down to murder their own countrymen, and lay that fair land waste? Not they. A very few years more, the Assyrians were back again, and overran Judea itself, laying the country waste with fire and sword, till nothing was left to them, but the mere city of Jerusalem. And so they, too, were filled with the fruit of their own devices. In their madness they had destroyed their brethren, the people of Israel, who ought to have been a safeguard for them to the north; now there was nothing and no man to prevent the Assyrians, or any other invaders, from pouring right down into their land. Truly says Solomon, 'He that diggeth a pit, shall fall into it, and he who breaketh a hedge, a serpent shall bite him.' From that day, Judah became weaker and weaker, standing all alone. Good king Hezekiah, good king Josiah, could only stave off her ruin for a few years; a little while longer, and her cup was full too, and the Babylonians came and swept the Jews away into captivity, as the Assyrians had swept away Israel, and that fair land lay desolate for many a year. The king of Assyria, we read, after he had carried away the people of Israel, brought heathens from Assyria, and settled them in the Holy Land, instead of the Israelites. But the Lord sent lions among them, we read; the land, I suppose, lying waste, the wild beasts increased, and became very dangerous: so these poor ignorant settlers sent to the king of Assyria, to beg for a Jewish priest, to teach them, as they said, the manner of the god of that land, that they might worship him, and not be terrified by the lions any more. It was a simple, confused notion of theirs: but it brought a blessing with it; for the king of Assyria sent them one of the Jewish priests who had been carried away from Samaria; and he came and lived at Beth-el, and taught them to fear the Lord. So these poor people got some confused notion of the one true God: but they mixed it up sadly with their old heathen idolatry, and made gods of their own, and some of them even burnt their children in the fire, to Adrammelech and Anammelech, the gods of Sepharvaim, from which town they had come. And so they went on for several hundred years, marrying with the remnant of the Israelites who were left behind, and worshipping idols and the true God at the same time. Now these people are the Samaritans, of whom you read so often in the New Testament. The Jews, when they came back, hated and despised the Samaritans, and would not speak to them, eat with them, trade with them, because they were only half-blooded Jews, and did not observe Moses' law rightly; and so they were left to themselves: but as time went on, they seemed to have got rid of their old idolatry, and built themselves a temple on Mount Gerizim, by Samaria, in Jacob's old haunts, by Jacob's well, and there worshipped they knew not what. But still they did their best. And their reward came at last. Many a hundred years had passed away. The proud Pharisees of Jerusalem were still calling them dogs and infidels; when there came to that half-heathen city of Samaria such a one as never came there before or since; and yet had been very near that place, and those poor Samaritans, for a thousand years. And being wearied with his journey, he sat down upon the edge of Jacob's well, by Joseph's tomb. The well is still there, choked with rubbish to this very day; and Joseph's tomb by it, all in ruins, among broad fields of corn. And on the edge of that well he sat. Along the very road which was before him, Jeroboam, and Ahab, and many a wicked king of Israel, had gone in old times, travelling between Shechem and Samaria: along that road the terrible Assyrians had marched back to their own land, leading strings of weeping prisoners out of their pleasant native land, to slavery and misery in the far North. He knew it all; and doubt not that he thought over it all, as never man thought on earth. Doubt not that his heart yearned over these poor ignorant Samaritans, and over the sinful woman who came to draw water at the well. After all, half- heathens as they were, Jacob's blood was in their veins; and if not, were they not still human beings? They were worshipping they knew not what: but still they were worshipping the best which they knew. 'Jesus saith unto her, Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. Ye worship ye know not what: we know what we worship: for salvation is of the Jews. But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth. The woman saith unto him, I know that Messias cometh, which is called Christ: when he is come, he will tell us all things. Jesus saith unto her, I that speak unto thee am he. . . . So when the Samaritans were come unto him, they besought him that he would tarry with them: and he abode there two days. And many more believed because of his own word; and said unto the woman, Now we believe, not because of thy saying: for we have heard him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the Christ, the Saviour of the world.' Oh, my friends, despise no man; for Christ despises none. He is no respecter of persons: but in every nation, he that feareth God and worketh righteousness is accepted with him. Despise no man; for by so doing you deny the Father, who has made of one blood all nations of men to dwell on the earth, and has appointed them their times, and the bounds of their habitation; if haply they may feel after him, and find him: though he be not far from any of us; for in him we live and move and have our being, and are the offspring of God. For hundreds of years those poor ignorant Samaritans had felt after him; in that foreign land to which the cruel Assyrian conqueror had banished them: but it was God who had appointed them their habitation there, and their time also; and, in due time, they found God: for he came to them, and found them, and spoke with them face to face. Better to have been one of those ignorant Samaritans, than to have been King Ahab, or King Hoshea, in all their glory, with all their proud Jewish blood. Better to have been one of those ignorant Samaritans than one of those conceited Pharisees at Jerusalem, who, while they were priding themselves on being Abraham's children, and keeping Moses' law, ended by crucifying him who made Abraham, and Moses, and his law, and them themselves. Better to be the poorest negro slave, if, in the midst of his ignorance and misery and shame, he believes in Christ, and works righteousness, than the cleverest and proudest and freest Englishman, if, in the midst of his great light, he works the works of darkness, and, while he calls himself a child of God, lives the sinful life, on which God's curse lies for ever. So you who have many advantages, take warning by the fate of those foolish Jews, who knew a great deal, and yet did not do it, and so came to shame and ruin. And you who have few advantages, take comfort by those poor Samaritans, who knew a very little, and yet made the best of it, and so at last saw a great light, after sitting in darkness for so long. Schools, books, church-going, ordinances of all kinds, they are good. If you can get them, use them, and thank God for them: but remember, God does not ask for learning, but for goodness and holiness: he does not ask for knowledge, but for a right life. And do not fancy, that because your children have a good education now, and you had none, that God does not love you as well as he loves them. His mercy is over all his works; and the promises are to you as well as to your children. There is many a poor soul who never read a book in her life, who is nearer God than many a great scholar, and fine preacher, and learned divine. All Christ asks of you is, to receive him when he comes to you; and to love, and thank, and admire him, and try to be like him, because he will make you like him: while for the rest to whom little is given, of him shall little be required; and to him who uses what he has, be it little or much, more shall be given, and he shall have abundance. For God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation, he that feareth God, and worketh righteousness, is accepted by him. SERMON XXVII. THE INVASION OF THE ASSYRIANS (Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity, Morning.) 2 Kings xix. 15-19. And Hezekiah prayed before the Lord, and said, O Lord God of Israel, which dwellest between the cherubims, thou art the Lord, even thou alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth; thou hast made heaven and earth. Lord, bow down thine ear, and hear: open, Lord, thine eyes, and see: and hear the words of Sennacherib, which hath sent him to reproach the living God. Of a truth, Lord, the kings of Assyria have destroyed the nations and their lands, and have cast their gods into the fire: for they were no gods, but the work of men's hands, wood and stone: therefore they have destroyed them. Now, therefore, O Lord our God, I beseech thee, save thou us out of his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that thou art the Lord God, even thou only. This noble story, which we read in Church every year, seems to have had a great hold on the minds of the Jews. They plainly thought it a very important story. For it is told three times over in the Bible: first in the Book of Kings, then in the Book of Chronicles, and again in that of the Prophet Isaiah. Indeed, many chapters of Isaiah's prophecies speak altogether of this invasion of the Assyrians and their destruction. But what has this story to do with us, you may ask? There are no miracles in our day. We can expect no angels to fight for our armies. We must fight for ourselves. True, my friends: but the lesson of these old stories, the moral of them stands good for ever. And I am thankful that this very story is appointed to be read publicly in church once a year, to put us in mind of many things, which all men are too apt to forget. For instance: to learn one lesson out of many which this chapter may teach us. We are too apt to think that peace and prosperity are the only signs of God's favour. That if a nation be religious, it is certain to thrive and be happy. But it is not so. We find from history that the times in which nations have shewn most nobleness, most courage, most righteousness, most faith in God, have been times of trouble, and danger, and terror. When nations have been invaded, persecuted, trampled under foot by tyrants, then all the good which was in them has again and again shewed itself. Then to the astonishment of the world they have become greater than themselves, and done deeds which win them glory for ever. Then they are truly purged in the fire of affliction, that whatever dross and trash is in their hearts may be burnt out, and the pure gold left. So it was with the Jews in Hezekiah's time. So again in the time of the Maccabees. So with the old Greeks, when the great Kings of Persia tried to enslave them. So with the old Romans, when the Carthaginians set upon them. So it was with us English, three hundred years ago, when for a time the whole world seemed against us, because we alone were standing up for the Gospel and the Bible against the Pope of Rome. Then the king of Spain, who was then as terrible a conqueror and devourer of nations, as the Assyrians of old, sent against us the Great Armada. Then was England in greater danger than she had ever been before, or has been since. And what came of it? That that dreadful danger brought out more faith, more courage, than perhaps has ever been among us since. That when we seemed weakest we were strongest. That while all the nations of Europe were looking on to see us devoured up by those Spaniards, our laws and liberties taken from us, the Popish Inquisition set up in England, and England made a Spanish province, what they did see was, the people of this little island rising as one man, to fight for themselves on earth, while the tempests of God fought for them from heaven; and all that mighty fleet of the King of Spain routed and scattered, till not one man in a hundred ever saw their native country again. And in England, after that terrible trial had passed over us, there rose up the best and noblest time which she had ever yet beheld. Yes, my friends, three hundred years ago we went through just such a fiery trial as the Jews went through in Hezekiah's time; and God grant that we may never forget that lesson. But what is true of whole nations, is often true also of each single person; of you and me. To almost every man, at least once in his life, comes a time of trial--what we call a crisis. A time when God purges the man, and tries him in the fire, and burns up the dross in him, that the pure sterling gold only may be left. To some people it comes in the shape of some terrible loss, or affliction. To others it comes in the shape of some great temptation. Nay, if we will consider, it comes to us all, perhaps often, in that shape. A man is brought to a point where he must choose between right and wrong. God puts him where the two roads part. One way turns off to the broad road, which leads to destruction: the other way turns off to the narrow road which leads to life. The man would be glad to go both ways at once, and do right and wrong too: but it so happens that he cannot. Then he would be glad to go neither way, and stay where he is: but he cannot. He must move on. He must do something. Perhaps he is asked a question which he does not wish to answer: but he must. It would be well worth his while to tell a lie. It would be very safe for him, profitable for him; while it would be very dangerous for him to tell the truth. He might ruin himself once and for all, by being an honest man. Now which shall he do? He would be glad to do both, glad to do neither: but choose he must; speak he must. He must either lie or tell the truth. Then comes the trial, whether he believes in God and in Christ, or whether he does not. If he only believes, as too many do without knowing it, in a dead God, a God far away, he will lie. If he only believes, as too many do without knowing it, in a dead Christ, a Christ who bore his sins on the cross eighteen hundred years ago, but since then has had nothing to do with him to speak of, as far as he knows--then he will lie. And that is the God and the Christ which most people believe in: and therefore when the time of trial comes, they fall away, and do and say things of which they ought to be ashamed, because their trust is not in God, but in man. But if that man believes in the living God, and believes that he lives, and moves, and has his being in God, he cannot lie. As it is written, 'he that is born of God, sinneth not, for his seed remaineth in him, and that wicked one toucheth him not.' He will say, Whatever happens, I must obey God, and not man. The Lord is on my side, therefore I will not fear what man can do to me. And what is the seed which remains in that man, and keeps him from playing the coward? Christ himself, the seed and Son of God. If he believes in the living Christ; if he believes that Christ is really his master, his teacher, who is watching over him, training him, from his cradle to his grave;--if he believes that Christ is dwelling in him, that whatever wish to do right he has comes from Christ, whatever sense of honour and honesty he has comes from Christ; then it will seem to him a dreadful thing to lie, to play the hypocrite, or the coward; to sin against his own better feelings. It will be sinning against Christ himself. Remember the great Martin Luther, when he stood on one side, a poor monk standing up for the Bible and the Gospel, and against him were arrayed the Pope and the Emperor, cardinals, bishops, and almost all the princes in Europe; and his friends wanted him to hold his tongue, or to say Yes and No at once; in short, to smooth over the matter in some way.--What conceit, said many, of one poor monk standing up against all the world; and what folly, too! He would certainly be burnt alive. But Luther could not hold his tongue. He was afraid enough, no doubt. He disliked being burnt as much as other men. But he felt he must speak God's truth then or never. He must bear witness for Christ's free gospel, against Pope, Emperor, all the devils in hell, if need be, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace. He must play the honest man that day, or be a hypocrite and a rogue for ever. His friends said to him, 'If you go to the Council, Duke George will have you burnt.' He answered, 'If it snowed Duke Georges nine days together, I must go.' They said, 'If you go into that town, you will never leave it alive.' He said, 'If there were as many devils in the town as there are tiles on the houses, I must go.' And he went, Bible in hand, and said, 'Here I stand; I can do no otherwise. God help me!' He went, and he conquered. And so it will be with you, my friends, if you will believe in the living God, and in the living Christ; then, when temptation comes, you will be able to stand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. And you will feel yourselves better men from that day forward. You will feel that you have made one great step upward; you will look back upon that time of temptation and perplexity as the beginning of a new life; as a sign to you that Christ is with you, and in you, training you and shaping your character, till he makes you, at last, somewhat like himself; somewhat of the stature of a true man; somewhat like what he has bidden you to be, 'perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect.' SERMON XXVIII. THE TEN LEPERS (Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity.) Luke xvii. 17, 18. Were there not ten cleansed, but where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger. No men, one would have thought, had more reason to thank God than those nine lepers. Afflicted with a filthy and tormenting disease, hopelessly incurable, at least in those days, they were cut off from family and friends, cut off from all mankind; forced to leave their homes, and wander away; forbidden to enter the houses of men, or the churches of God; forbidden, for fear of infection, to go near any human being; keeping no company but that of wretched lepers like themselves, and forced to get their living by begging; by standing (as the Gospel says) afar off, and praying the passers-by to throw them a coin. In this wretched state, in which they had been certain of living and dying miserably, they met the Lord: and suddenly, instantly, beyond all hope or expectation, they found themselves cured, restored to their families, their homes, their power of working, their rights as citizens; restored to all that makes life worth having, and that freely, and in a moment. If such a blessing had come to us, should we have thought any thanks too great! Would not our whole lives have been too short to bless God for his great mercy? Should we have gone away, like those nine, without a word of thanks to God, or even to the man who had healed us? What stupidity, hardhearted- ness, ingratitude of those nine, never to have even thanked the Lord for their restoration to health and happiness. Ay, so we think. Yet those nine lepers were men of like passions with ourselves; and what they did, we perhaps might do in their place. It is very humbling to think so: but the Bible is a humbling book: and, therefore, a wholesome book, profitable for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness. And I am very much afraid that when the Bible tells us that nine out of ten of those lepers were ungrateful to God, it tells us that nine out of ten of us are ungrateful likewise. Ungrateful to God? I fear so; and more ungrateful, I fear, than those ten lepers. For which of the two is better off, the man who loses a good thing, and then gets it back again; or the man who never loses it at all, but enjoys it all his life? Surely the man who never loses it at all. And which of the two has more cause to thank God? Those lepers had been through a very miserable time; they had had great affliction; and that, they might feel, was a set- off against their good fortune in recovering their health. They had bad years to balance their good ones. But we--how many of us have had nothing but good years? Oh consider, consider the history of the average of us. How we grow up tolerably healthy, tolerably comfortable, in a free country, under just laws, with the power of earning our livelihood, and the certainty of keeping what we earn. Famine we know nothing of in this happy land; war, and the horrors of war, we knew nothing of--God grant we never may. In health, safety and prosperity most of us grow up; forced, it is true, to work hard: but that, too, is a blessing; for what better thing for a man, soul and body, than to be forced to work hard? In health, safety and prosperity; leaving children behind us, to prosper as we have done. And how many of us give God the glory, or Christ the thanks? But if these be our bodily blessings, what are our spiritual blessings? Has not God given us his only-begotten son Jesus Christ? Has he not baptised us into his Church? Has he not forgiven our sins? Has he not revealed to us that he is our Father, and we his children? Has he not given us the absolutely inestimable blessing of his commandments? Of knowing what the right thing to be done is, that we may do it and live for ever; that treasure of which not only Solomon, but the wise men of old held, that to know what was right was a more precious possession than rubies and fine gold, and all the wealth of Ind? Has he not given us the hope of a joyful immortality, of everlasting life after death, not only with those whom we have loved and lost, but with God himself? And how many of us give God the glory, and Christ the thanks? Do we not copy those nine lepers, and just shew ourselves to the priest?-- Come to church on the Sunday, because it is the custom; people expect it of us; and God, we understand, expects it too: but where is the gratitude? Where is the giving of glory to God for all his goodness? Which are we most like? Children of God, looking up to our Father in heaven, and saying, at every fresh blessing, Father, I thank thee. Truly thou knowest my necessities before I ask, and my ignorance in asking?--Or, like the stalled ox, which eats, and eats, and eats, and never thanks the hand which feeds him? We are too comfortable, I think, at times. We are so much accustomed to be blest by God, that we take his blessings as matters of course, and feel them no more than we do the air we breathe. The wise man says-- Our torments may by length of time become Our elements; and I am sure our blessings may. They say that people who endure continual pain and misery, get at length hardly to feel it. And so, on the other hand, people who have continual prosperity get at length hardly to feel that. God forgive us! My friends, when I say this to you, I say it to myself. If I blame you, I blame myself. If I warn you, I warn myself. We most of us need warning in these comfortable times; for I believe that it is this very unrighteousness of ours which brings many of our losses and troubles on us. If we are so dull that we will not know the value of a thing when we have got it, then God teaches us the value of it by taking it from us. He teaches us the value of health by making us feel sickness; he teaches us the value of wealth by making us feel poverty. I do not say it is always so. God forbid. There are those who suffer bitter afflictions, not because they have sinned, but that, like the poor blind man, the glory of God may be made manifest in them. There are those too who suffer no sorrow at all, even though they feel, in their thoughtful moments, that they deserve it. And miserable enough should we all be, if God punished us every time we were ungrateful to him. If he dealt with us after our sins, and rewarded us according to our iniquities, where should we be this day? But still, I cannot but believe that if we do go on in prosperity, careless and unthankful, we are running into danger; we are likely to bring down on ourselves some sorrow or anxiety which will teach us, which at least is meant to teach us--from whom all good things come; and to know that the Lord has given, when the Lord has taken away. God grant that when that lesson is sent to us we may learn it. Learn it, perhaps, at once, and in a moment, we cannot. Weak flesh and blood cannot enter into the kingdom of God, and see that he is ruling us, and all things, in love and justice; and our eyes are, as it were, dimmed with our tears, so that we cannot see God's handwriting upon the wall against us. But at length, when the first burst of sorrow is past, we may learn it; and, like righteous Job, justify God; saying,--The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord. If we do that, and give God the glory, it may be with us, after all, as it was with Job, when God gave him back sevenfold for all that he had taken away, wealth and prosperity, sons and daughters. For God doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men out of spite. His punishments are not revenge, but correction; and, as a father, he chastises his children, not to harm, but to bless them. And God grant that if that day, too, comes--if after sorrow comes joy, if after storm comes sunshine--we may not forget God afresh in our prosperity, nor go our ways like those dull-hearted Jews, after they were cleansed from their leprosy: but, like the Samaritan, return, and give glory to God, who gives, and delights in giving; and only takes away, that he may lift up our souls to him, in whom we live, and move, and have our being: and so, knowing who we are, and where we are, may live in God, and by God, and for God, in this life, and for ever. SERMON XXIX. PARDON AND PEACE (Twenty-first Sunday after Trinity.) Psalm xxxii. 1-7. Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile. When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long. For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me: my moisture is turned into the drought of summer. I acknowledge my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin. For this shall every one that is godly pray unto thee in a time when thou mayest be found: surely in the floods of great waters they shall not come nigh unto him. Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shall compass me about with songs of deliverance. The collect for to-day is a very beautiful one. There is something musical in the sound of the very words; so musical, that it is sung as an anthem in many churches. Let us think a little over it. 'Grant, we beseech thee, merciful Lord, to thy faithful people pardon and peace; that they may be cleansed from all their sins, and serve thee with a quiet mind, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.' That is a noble prayer; and a prayer for each and every one of us, every day. I say for every day. It is not like the fifty-first psalm, the prayer of a man who has committed some black and dreadful crime; who fears lest God should take his Holy Spirit from him, and leave him to remorse and horror; who feels that he needs to be utterly changed, and have a new heart created within him. It is not a prayer of that kind. It is rather the prayer of a man who is weary with the burden of sinful mortality; who finds it very hard work to do his duty, even tolerably well; who is dissatisfied with himself, and ashamed of himself, not about one great fault, but about many little faults; and who wants to be cleansed from them; who is tempted to be fretful, anxious, out of heart, because things go wrong; and because he feels it partly his own fault that things go wrong; and who, therefore, wants peace, that he may serve God with a quiet mind. Now then, dear friends, did I not speak truth, when I said, this is a prayer for every one of us, and for every day? For which of us does his duty as he ought? I take for granted, we are all trying to do our duty, better or worse: but I take for granted, too, that the more we try to do our duty, the more dissatisfied with ourselves we are; and the more we find we have sins without number to be cleansed from. For the more we try to do our duty, the higher notion we get of what our duty is; the more we do, the more we feel we ought to do; and the more we feel that we leave undone a great many things which we ought to do, and do a great many things which we ought not to do, and that there is no health in us: but a great deal of disease and weakness;--disease of soul, in the way of conceit, pride, selfishness, temper, obstinacy; weakness, in the way of laziness, fearfulness, and very often of sheer stupidity; we do not see, or rather will not take the trouble to see, what we ought to do, and how to do it. And therefore, we must be, or rather ought to be, dissatisfied with ourselves; and our consciences accuse us when we lie down at night, of a hundred petty miserable mistakes, which we ought to have avoided. We are continually knowing what is right, and doing what is wrong, till we get deservedly angry with ourselves; and think at times, that God must be deservedly angry with us; that we are such poor paltry creatures that he can only look on us with dislike and contempt: and even worse; that, perhaps, he does not care to see us mend; that our struggles to do right are of no value in his eyes: but that he has sternly left us to ourselves, to struggle through life, right or wrong, as best we may; and to be punished at last, for all that we have done amiss. Such thoughts will cross our minds. They have crossed the minds of all mankind since the first man's conscience awoke, and he discovered that he was not a brute animal, by finding in himself that awful thought, which no brute animal can have--'I have done wrong.' And therefore the consciences of men will cry for pardon, just in proportion as they are worthy of the name of men, and not merely a superior sort of animals; and therefore just in proportion as our souls are alive in us, alive with the feeling of duty, of justice, of purity, of love, of a just and orderly God above--just in that proportion shall we be tormented by the difference between what we are, and what we ought to be; and the sense of sin, and the longing for pardon, will be more keen in us; and we shall have no rest till the sins are got rid of, and the pardon sure. That is the price we pay for having immortal souls. It is a heavy price truly: but it is well worth the paying, if it be only paid aright. If that tormenting feeling of being continually wrong in this life, ends by making us continually right for ever in the world to come; if Christ be formed in us at last; if out of our sinful and mortal manhood a sinless and immortal manhood is born;--then shall we, like the mother over her new-born babe, forget our anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world. But, again, besides pardon, we want peace. Who does not know that state of mind in which, perhaps, without any great reason in reality, one has no peace? When everything seems to go wrong with a man. When he suspects everybody to be against him. When little troubles, which he could bear easily enough at other times, seem quite intolerable to him. When he is troubled with vain regrets about the past--'Ah, if I had done this and that!' and vain fears for the future, conjuring up in his mind all sorts of bad luck which may, but most probably never will, happen; and yet from off which he cannot turn his mind. Who does not know this frame of mind? True, a great deal of this may depend on ill-health; and will pass away as the man's bodily condition gets better. We know, in the same way, that the strange anxiety which comes over us in sleepless nights, comes from bodily causes. That is merely because, the circulation of our blood being quickened, our brain becomes more active; and because we are lying alone in the silent darkness, with nothing to listen to or look at, we cannot turn our attention away from the thoughts which get possession of us and torment us. That is only bodily; and yet it may be very useful to our souls. As we lie awake, our own past lives, our own past mistakes and sins, and God's past blessings and mercies, too, may rise up before us with clearness, and teach us more than a hundred sermons; and we may find, with David, that our reins chasten us in the night-season. 'When I am in heaviness, I will think upon God; when my heart is vexed, I will complain. Thou holdest mine eyes waking. . . . I have considered the days of old, and the years that are past. I call to remembrance my song, and in the night I commune with my own heart, and search out my spirits. Will the Lord absent himself for ever, and will he be no more intreated? Is his mercy clean gone for ever: and is his promise come utterly to an end for evermore? Hath God forgotten to be gracious: and will he shut up his loving-kindness in displeasure? And I said it is mine own infirmity. But I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most Highest.' These sleepless hours taught the Psalmist somewhat; and they may teach us likewise. And so, again, with these sad and fretful frames of mind. Even if they do partly come from our bodies, they have a real effect, which cannot be mistaken, on our souls; and they may have a good effect on us, if we choose. I believe that we shall find, that even if they do come from ill health and weak nerves, what starts them is--that we are dissatisfied with ourselves. We feel something wrong, not merely in our bodies, but in our souls, our characters; and then we try to lay the blame on the world around us, and shift it off ourselves; saying in our hearts, 'I should do very well, if other people, and things about me, would only let me:' but the more we try to shift off the blame, the less peace we have. Nothing mends matters less than throwing the blame on others. That is plain. Other people we cannot mend; they must mend themselves. Circumstances about us we cannot mend; God must mend them. So, as long as we throw the blame on them, we cannot return to a cheerful and hopeful frame of mind. But the moment we throw the blame on ourselves, that moment we can have hope, that moment we can become cheerful again; for whatsoever else we cannot mend, we can at least mend ourselves. Now a man may forget this in health. He may be put out and unhappy for a while: but when his good spirits return, he does not know why. Things have not improved; but, somehow, they do not affect him as they did before. Now this is not wrong. God forbid! In such a world as this, one is glad to see a man rid of sadness by any means which is not wrong. Better anything than that a poor soul should fret himself to death. But it may be very good for a man now and then not to forget; to be kept low, whether by ill health or by any other cause, till he faces fairly his own state, and finds out honestly what does fret him and torment him. And then, I believe, his experience will generally be like David's.-- 'As long as I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my groaning all the day long.' Think over these words, I beg you. I chose them for my text, just because they seem to me to contain all that I wish you to understand. As long as the Psalmist held his peace--as long as he did not confess his sin to God--all seemed to go wrong with him. He fretted his very heart away. The moment that he made a clean breast to God, peace and cheerfulness came back to him. This psalm may speak of some really great sin which he had committed. But that makes all the more strongly for us. For if he got forgiveness for a great sin, by merely confessing it, how much more may we hope to be forgiven, for the comparatively little sins of which I am now speaking? Surely there is forgiveness for them. Surely we, Christians, are not worse off than the old Jews. God forbid! What does the Bible tell us? If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us. And again, if we walk in the light; that is, if we look honestly at our own hearts, and confess honestly to God what we see wrong there; then we have fellowship one with another; all our frettings and grudgings against our fellow-men pass away; and the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin. God forbid again! For what is the message of the Absolution, whether general in the church, or private by the sick-bed, but this-- that there is continual forgiveness for those who really confess and repent? God forbid again! For what is the message of the Holy Communion, but that we really are forgiven, really helped by God not to do the like again; that the stains and scars of our daily misdoings are truly healed by God's grace; and power given us to lead a healthier life, the longer we persevere in the struggle after God. Therefore, instead of proudly laying the blame of our unhappiness on our fellow-men, much less on God and his providence, let us cast ourselves, in every hour of shame or of sadness, on the boundless love of him who hateth nothing that he hath made; who so loved the world that he spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all. How shall he not with him freely give us all things? Let us open our weary hearts to him who watches with tender interest, as of a father watching the growth of his child, over every struggle of ours from worse to better; and so we shall have our reward. The more we trust to the love of God, the more shall we feel his love-- feel that we are pardoned--feel that we are at peace. We may not grow more cheerful as we grow older; but we shall grow more peaceful. Sadder men, it may be; but wiser men also; caring less and less for pleasure; caring even less and less for mere happiness: but finding a lasting comfort in the knowledge that we are doing our life's work not altogether ill, under the smile of Almighty God; aware more and more of our own weakness, and of our own failings: but trusting that God will take the will for the deed, and forgive us what we have left undone, and accept what we have done, for the sake of Christ, in whom, and not in our own poor paltry selves, he looks upon us as his adopted children. Only let us remember to ask for pardon and to ask for peace, that we may use them as the collect bids us;--To ask for pardon, not merely that we may escape punishment; not even to escape punishment at all, if punishment be wholesome for us, as it often is: but that we may be cleansed from our sins; that we may not be left to our own weakness and our own bad habits, to grow more and more useless, more and more unhappy, day by day, but that we may be cleansed from them; and grow purer, nobler, juster, stronger, more worthy of our place in God's kingdom, as our years roll by. Let us remember to ask for peace, not merely to get rid of unpleasant thoughts, or unpleasant people, or unpleasant circumstances; and then sit down and say, Soul, take thine ease, eat and drink, for thou hast much goods laid up for many years: but let us ask for peace, that we may serve God with a quiet mind; that we may get rid of the impatient, cowardly, discontented, hopeless heart, which will not let a man go about his business like a man; and get, instead of it, by the inspiration of God's Holy Spirit, the calm, contented, brave, hopeful heart, in the strength of which a man can work with a will wherever God may put him, even amidst vexation, confusion, disappointment, slander, and persecution; and, in his place and calling, serve the Lord, who served him when he died for him, and who serves him, and all his people, now and for ever in heaven. So shall we have real pardon, and real peace. A pardon which will make us really better; and a peace which will make us really more useful. And to be good and to be useful were the two ends for which God sent us into the world at all. SERMON XXX. THE CENTRAL SUN (Sunday after Ascension, Evening.) Ephesians iv. 9. 10. Now that he ascended, what is it but that he also descended first into the lower parts of the earth? He that descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that he might fill all things. This is one of those very deep texts which we are not meant to think about every day; only at such seasons as this, when we have to think of Christ ascending into heaven, that he might send down his Spirit at Whitsuntide. Of this the text speaks; and therefore, we may, I hope, think a little of it to-day, but reverently, and cautiously, like men who know a very little, and are afraid of saying more than they know. These deep mysteries about heaven we must always meddle with very humbly, lest we get out of our depth in haste and self- conceit. As it is said, Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. For, if we are not very careful, we shall be apt to mistake the meaning of Scripture, and make it say what we like, and twist it to suit our own fancies, and our own ignorance. Therefore we must never, with texts like this, say positively, 'It must mean this. It can mean only this.' How can we tell that? This world, which we do see, is far too wonderful for us to understand. How much more wonderful must be the world which we do not see? How much more wonderful must heaven be? How can we tell what is there, or what is not there? We can tell of some things that are not there, and those are sin, evil, disorder, harm of any kind. Heaven is utterly good. Beyond that, we know nothing. Therefore I dare not be positive about this text, for fear I should try to explain it according to my own fancies. Wise fathers and divines have differed very much as to what it means; how far any one of them is right, I cannot tell you. The ancient way of explaining this text was this. People believed in old times that the earth was flat. Then, they held, hell was below the earth, or inside it in some way: and the burning mountains, out of which came fire and smoke, were the mouths of hell. And when they believed that, it was easy for them to suppose that St. Paul spoke of Christ's descending into hell. He went down, says St. Paul, into the lower parts of the earth. What could those lower parts be, they asked, but the hell which lay under the earth? Now about that we know nothing. St. Paul himself never says that hell is below the earth. Indeed (and this is a very noteworthy thing) St. Paul never, in his epistles, mentions in plain words hell at all; so what St. Paul thought about the matter, we can never know. Whether by Christ's descending into the lower parts of the earth, he meant descending into hell, or merely that our Lord came down on this earth of ours, poor, humble, and despised, laying his glory by for a while, this we cannot tell. Some wise men think one thing, some another. Two of the wisest and best of the great old fathers of the Church think that he meant only Christ's death and burial. So how dare I give a positive opinion, where wiser men than I differ? But about the other half of the text, which says, that he ascended high above all heavens, there is no such difficulty. All agree as to what that means: though, perhaps, in old times they would have put it in different words. The old belief was, that as hell was below the flat earth, so heaven was above it; and that there were many heavens, seven heavens, in layers, as it were, one above the other; and that the seventh heaven, which was the highest of all, was where God dwelt. Now, whether St. Paul believed this, we cannot tell. He speaks of being himself caught up into the third heaven, and here Christ is spoken of as ascending above all heavens. My own belief, though I say it very humbly, is, that St. Paul spoke of these things only as a figure of speech, for the sake of the ignorance of the people to whom he was writing. They talked in that way; and he was forced now and then to talk in that way, too, to make them understand him. I think that, when he spoke of being caught up into the third heaven, he did not mean that he was lifted bodily off the earth into the skies: but that his soul was raised up and enlightened to understand high and wonderful heavenly matters, though not the highest or most wonderful. If he had meant that, he would have said, that he was caught up into the seventh heaven. We know that our Lord, in the same way, continually used parables; because, as he said, the ignorant people could not understand the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven; and he had, therefore, to put them into parables, taken from the common country matters, and country forms of speech, if by any means he might make them understand. And so, I suppose, it was with St. Paul. He had to speak in such a way that he could be understood; and no more. But when he says that Christ ascended far above all heavens, we are to believe this--that he ascended to God himself. So high that he could go no higher; so far that he could go no farther. We, now, do not believe that there are seven heavens above the earth; and we need not. It is no doctrine of the Church, or of the Creeds. We know that the earth is round, and not flat; and that the heavens, if by that we mean the sky, is neither above it, nor below it, but round it on every side. But some may say, whither, then, did our Lord ascend? To what place did his body go up? And that is a right question; for we must always bear in mind that not merely Christ's godhead but his manhood, not merely Christ's soul but his body also, ascended into heaven. If we do not believe that, we do not hold the Catholic faith. Whither, then, did Christ ascend? My friends, we know this. That this earth and the planets move round the sun, which is in the centre of them. We know this, too; that all the countless stars which spangle the sky are really suns likewise, perhaps, with worlds which we cannot see, moving round them, as we move round the sun. We know, too, that these fixed stars, as they seem to be, are not really fixed, but have some regular movements among themselves, which seem very slow and small to us, from their immense distance, but which really are very great and fast. Now all these suns and stars, it is reasonable to believe, most probably have a centre. There must be order among them; and they most probably move round one thing, one place, one central sun, as it were, which is the very heart of all the worlds, and the whole universe. Where that place is, or what it is like, we know not, and cannot know. Only this we may believe, that it is glorious beyond all that eye hath seen, and ear heard, or hath entered into the heart of man to conceive. If this world be beautiful, how beautiful must that world of all worlds be. If the sun be glorious, how glorious must the sun of all suns be. If the heaven over us be grand, how grand must that heaven of heavens be. We will not talk of it; for we cannot imagine it: and if we tried to, we should only lower it to our own low fancies. But is it not reasonable to suppose, that there God the Father does, perhaps, in some unspeakable way, shew forth his glory? That there, in the heart of all the worlds, Cherubim and Seraphim continually adore him, crying day and night, 'Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth: Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of thy glory!' before his throne from which goes forth light, and power, and life, to all worlds and all created things. And is it not reasonable to believe, that there Christ is, in the bosom of the Father, and at the right hand of God? We know that those, too, are only figures. That God is a Spirit, everywhere and nowhere; and has not hands as we have. But it is only by such figures that the Bible can make us understand the truth, that Christ is the highest being in all heavens and worlds; equal with God the Father, and sharer of his kingdom, and power, and glory, God blessed for ever. Amen. What then does St. Paul mean, when he says, 'That he may fill all things?' I do not know. And I will take care not to lessen and spoil St. Paul's words, by any ignorant words of my own. But one thing I know it will mean one day, for St. Paul says so. That Christ reigns, and will reign, triumphant over sin, and death, and hell, till he have put all enemies under his feet, and the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. Then shall he deliver up the kingdom to God, even the Father; that God may be all in all. What that means I do not know. But this I can say, and you can say. We can pray that God will finish the number of his elect and hasten his kingdom, that we, with all that are departed in the true faith, may have our perfect consummation and bliss, both in body and soul, in his eternal kingdom. And this I can say, that it means now, for you and me; for Whitsuntide tells me:--that whatever else Christ can or cannot fill, he can at least fill our hearts, because he is in the bosom of the Father himself; and therefore from him, as from the Father, proceeds the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of life. That Spirit will proceed even to us, if we will have him. He will fill our hearts with himself; with the Spirit of goodness, which proceeds out of the heaven of heavens, and out of the bosom of God himself; with love, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness; with truth, honour, duty, earnestness, and all that is the likeness of Christ and of God. Oh let us pray for that Spirit; the Spirit of truth, which Christ promised us when he ascended up into the heaven of heavens, to keep us sound in our most holy faith; and the Spirit of goodness, to give us strength to live the good lives of good Christian men. And then it will matter little what opinions we hold about deep things, which the wisest man can never put into words. And it will matter little, whether what I have been telling you to-day about the heaven of heavens be exactly true or not; for what says St. Paul of such deep matters? That we know in part, and prophesy in part; and that prophecies shall fail, and knowledge vanish away: but charity, love, and right feeling, and right doing, which is the very Holy Spirit of God, shall abide for ever. And if that Spirit be with us, he will guide us in due time into all truth; teach us all we need to know, and enable us to practise all we ought to do. Amen. SERMON XXXI. CHRISTMAS PEACE (Sunday before Christmas.) Phil. iv. 4. Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice. This is a glorious text, and one fit to be the key-note of Christmas-day. If we will take it to heart, it will tell us how to keep Christmas-day. St. Paul has been speaking of two good women, who seem to have had some difference; and he beseeches them to make up their difference, and be of the same mind in the Lord. And then he goes on to tell them, and all Christian people, why they should make up their differences. And for that reason, I suppose, the Church has chosen it for the epistle before Christmas-day, on which all men are to make friends with each other, and rejoice in the Lord. Let your moderation, he says, be known to all men. The Greek word signifies forbearance, reasonable dealing, consideration for one another, readiness to give way, not standing too severely on one's own rights. Now this is just the temper in which we ought to meet our friends at Christmas-- forbearance. They may not have always behaved well to us. Be it so. No more have we to them. Let us, once in the year at least, forget old grudges. Let us do as we would be done by; give and forgive; live and let live; bury our past quarrels, and shake hands over their graves. For the Lord is at hand. Close to all of us: watching all we do, and setting the right value on it. He cannot mistake. He sees both sides of a matter, and all sides--a thousand sides which we cannot see. He can judge better than we. Let him judge. Why do I say, Let him judge? He has judged already, weeks, months ago, as soon as each quarrel happened: and, perhaps, he found us in the wrong as well as our neighbours; and, if so, the least said the soonest mended. Let us forgive and forget, lest we be neither forgotten nor forgiven. And, because the Lord is at hand, be anxious about nothing. The word here is the same as in the Sermon on the Mount. It means do not fret; do not terrify yourselves; for the Lord is at hand; he knows what you want: and will he not give it? Is not Christmas-day a sign that he will give it--a pledge of his love? What did he do on the first Christmas-day? What did he shew himself to be on the first Christmas-day? Now, here is the root of the whole matter, and a deep root it is; as deep as the beginning of all things which are, or ever were, or ever will be. And yet if we will believe our Bibles, it is a root which we all may find. What did the angels say the first Christmas night? Peace on earth, and goodwill to men. That is what God proclaimed. That is what he said that he had, and would give. Now, says the apostle, if you will believe the latter half of this same Christmas message, then the first half of it will come true to you. If you will believe that God's will is a good will to you, then you will have peace on earth. For believe in Christmas-day; believe that the Lord is at hand; that he has been made man for ever and ever; and that to the Man Christ Jesus all power is given in heaven and earth: and then, if you want aught, instead of grudging or grinding your neighbours, ask him. In everything let your requests be made known unto God: and then the peace of God will keep your hearts through Christ Jesus. You will feel at peace with God through Christ Jesus, because you have found out that God is at peace with you; that God is not against you, but for you; that God does not hate you, but love you; and if God is at peace with you, what cause have you to be at war with him? And so the message of Christmas-day will bring you peace. You will be at peace with your neighbours, through Christ Jesus. When you see God stooping to make peace with sinful men, you will be ashamed to be quarrelling with them. When you see God full of love, you will be ashamed to keep up peevishness, grudging, and spite. When you see God's heaven full of light, you will be ashamed to be dark yourselves; your hearts will go out freely to your fellow- creatures; you will long to be friends with every one you meet; and you will find in that the highest pleasure which you ever felt in life. But mind one thing--what sort of a peace this peace of God is. It passes all understanding; the very loftiest understanding. The cleverest and most learned men that ever lived could not have found it--we know they did not find it--by their own cleverness and learning. No more will you find God's peace, if you seek for it with your understanding. Thinking will not bring you peace, think as shrewdly as you may. Reading will not bring it, read as deeply as you may. Some people think otherwise; that they can get the peace of God by understanding. If they could but understand more, their minds would be at rest. So they weary themselves with reading, and thinking, and arguing, perhaps trying to understand predestination, election, assurance; perhaps trying to understand which is the true Church. What do they get thereby? Certainly not the peace of God. They certainly do not set their minds at rest. They cannot. Books cannot give a live soul rest. Understanding cannot. Nothing can give you or me rest, save God himself. The peace is God's; and he must give it himself, with his own hand, or we shall never get it. Go then to God himself. Thou art his child, as Christmas-day declares: be not afraid to go unto thy Father. Pray to him; tell him what thou wantest: say, Father, I am not moderate, reasonable, forbearing. I fear I cannot keep Christmas- day aright, for I have not a peaceful Christmas spirit in me; and I know that I shall never get it by thinking, and reading, and understanding; for it passes all that, and lies far away beyond it, does peace, in the very essence of thine undivided, unmoved, absolute, eternal Godhead, which no change nor decay of this created world, nor sin or folly of men or devils, can ever alter; but which abideth for ever what it is, in perfect rest, and perfect power, and perfect love. O Father, give me thy peace. Soothe this restless, greedy, fretful soul of mine, as a mother soothes a sick and feverish child. How thou wilt do it I do not know. It passes all understanding. But though the sick child cannot reach the mother, the mother is at hand, and can reach it. Though the eagle, by flying, cannot reach the sun, yet the sun is at hand, and can reach all the earth, and pour its light and warmth over all things. And thou art more than a mother: thou art the everlasting Father. Pour thy love over me, that I may love as thou lovest. Thou art more than the sun: thou art the light and the life of all things. Pour thy light and thy life over me, that I may see as thou seest, and live as thou livest, and be at peace with myself and all the world, as thou art at peace with thyself and all the world. Again, I say, I know not how; for it passes all understanding: but I hope that thou wilt do it for me. I trust that thou wilt do it for me, for I believe the good news of Christmas-day. I believe that thou art love, and that thy mercy is over all thy works. I believe the message of Christmas-day: that thou so lovest the world, that thou hast sent thy Son to save the world, and me. I know not how; for that, too, passes understanding: but I believe that thou wilt do it; for I believe that thou art love; and that thy mercy is over all thy works, even over me. I believe the message of Christmas-day, that thy will is peace on earth, even peace to me, restless and unquiet as I am; and goodwill to men, even to me, the chief of sinners. SERMON XXXII. THE LIFE OF THE SPIRIT (First Sunday after Christmas.) Isaiah xxxviii. 16. O Lord, by these things men live, and in all these things is the life of my spirit. These words are the words of Hezekiah, king of Judah; and they are true words, words from God. But, if they are true words, they are true words for every one--for you and me, for every one here in this church this day: for they do not say, By these things certain men live, one man here and another man there; but all men. Whosoever is really alive, that is, has life in his spirit, his soul, his heart, the life of a man and not a beast, the only life which is worthy to be called life, then that life is kept up in him in the same way that it was kept up in Hezekiah, and by the same means. Let us see, then, what things they were which gave Hezekiah's spirit life. Great joy, great honour, great success, wealth, health, prosperity and pleasure? Was it by these things that Hezekiah found men lived? Not so, but by great sorrow. 'In those days was Hezekiah sick unto death. And Isaiah the prophet the son of Amos came unto him and said, Thus saith the Lord, Set thine house in order; for thou shall die and not live. Then Hezekiah turned his face towards the wall and prayed unto the Lord; and Hezekiah wept sore.' Trouble upon trouble came on Hezekiah; and that just when he might have expected a little rest. The Lord had just delivered Hezekiah and the Jews from a fearful danger, of which we read in the chapter before. Hezekiah had believed God's promise by the mouth of Isaiah. He held fast his faith in God when Sennacherib and his Assyrian army were camping round Jerusalem; for God had said, 'I will defend this city to save it for my own sake and for my servant David's sake.' He defended his city bravely and nobly, and showed himself a true, and valiant, and godly king. And perhaps Hezekiah expected to be rewarded for his faith, and rewarded for having done his duty: but it was not so. He had to wait, and to endure more. And now this fresh trouble was come upon him. Isaiah told him he should die and not live: and he must prepare himself to meet death. Hezekiah, you see, was horribly afraid of death. I do not mean that he was afraid of going to hell, for he does not say so: but he felt, to use his own words, 'The grave cannot praise thee, death cannot celebrate thee: they that go down into the pit cannot hope for thy truth.' And, therefore, death looked to him an ugly and an evil thing--as it is; the Lord's enemy, and his last enemy, the one with which he will have the longest and sorest fight. He conquered death by rising from the dead: but nevertheless we die; and death is an ugly, fearful, hateful thing in itself, and rightly called the King of Terrors: for terrible it is to those who do not know that Christ has conquered it. Hezekiah lived before the Lord Jesus came into the flesh to bring life and immortality to light, by rising from the dead; and, therefore, the life after death was not brought to light to him, any more than it was to David, or any other Old Testament Jew. He dreaded it, because he knew not what would come after death. And, therefore, he prayed hard not to die. He did not pray altogether in a right way: but still he prayed. 'Remember now, O Lord, I beseech thee, how I have walked before thee in truth and with a perfect heart, and have done that which was good in thy sight.' And the Lord heard his prayer. 'Then came the word of the Lord to Isaiah, saying, Go, and say to Hezekiah, Thus saith the Lord, I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears, behold I will add unto thy days fifteen years.' Then what was the use of God's warning to him? What was the use of his sickness and his terror, if, after all, his prayer was heard, and after the Lord had told him, Thou shall die and not live--that did not come to pass: but the very contrary happened, that he lived, and did not die? Of what use to him was it? Of this use at least, that it taught him that the Lord God would hear the prayers of mortal men. Oh my friends, is not that worth knowing? Is not that worth going through any misery to learn--that the Lord will hear us? That he is not a cold, arbitrary tyrant, who goes his own way, never caring for our cries and tears, too proud to turn out of his way to hear us: but that he is very pitiful and of tender mercy, and repenting him of the evil? Hezekiah did not pray rightly. He thought himself a better man than he was. He said, 'Remember now, O Lord, I beseech thee, how I have walked before thee in truth and with a perfect heart, and have done that which is good in thy sight.' And Hezekiah wept sore. But he did pray. He went to God, and told his story to him, and wept sore; and the Lord God heard him, and taught him that he was not as good as he fancied; taught him that, after all, he had nothing to say for himself--no reason to shew why he should not die. 'What shall I say? He hath both spoken unto me, and himself hath done it: I shall go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul.' And so he felt that, instead of justifying himself, he must throw himself utterly on God's love and mercy; that God must undertake for him. 'O Lord, I am oppressed, crushed--the heart is beaten out of me. I have nothing to say for myself. Undertake for me. I have nothing to say for myself, but I have plenty to say of thee. Thou art good and just. Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell. I can say no more.' And then he found that the Lord was ready to save him. That what the Lord wished was, not to kill him, but to recover him, and make him live--live more really, and fully, and wisely, and manfully--by making him trust more utterly in God's goodness, and love, and mercy; making him more certain that, good as he thought himself, and perfect in heart, he was full of sins: and yet that the Lord had cast all these sins of his behind his back, forgotten and forgiven them, as soon as he had made him see that all that was good and strong in him came from God, and all that was evil and weak from himself. And then he says, 'O Lord, by these things men live, and in all these things is the life of my spirit.' God meant all along to receive me, and make me live. He chastened me, and brought me low, to shew me that my own faith, my own righteousness, was no reason for his saving me: but that his own love and mercy was a good reason for saving me. 'Behold,' he goes on to say, 'for peace I had great bitterness: but thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the pit of corruption: for thou hast cast all my sins behind thy back.' And, my dear friends, what Hezekiah saw but dimly, we ought to see clearly. The blessed news of the Gospel ought to tell us it clearly. For the blessed Gospel tells us that the same Lord who chastened and taught, and then saved, Hezekiah, was made flesh, and born a man of the substance of a mortal woman; that he might in his own person bear all our sicknesses and carry our infirmities; that he might understand all our temptations, and be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, seeing that he himself was tempted in all points likewise, yet without sin. Oh hear this, you who have had sorrows in past times. Hear this, you who expect sorrows in the times to come. He who made, he who lightens, every man who comes into the world; he who gave you every right thought and wholesome feeling that you ever had in your lives: he counts your tears; he knows your sorrows; he is able and willing to save you to the uttermost. Therefore do not be afraid of your own afflictions. Face them like men. Think over them. Ask him to help you out of them: or if that is not to be, at least to tell you what he means by them. Be sure that what he must mean by them is good to you: a lesson to you, that in some way or other they are meant to make you wiser, stronger, hardier, more sure of God's love, more ready to do God's work, whithersoever it may lead you. Do not be afraid of the dark day of affliction, I say. It may teach you more than the bright prosperous one. Many a man can see clearly in the cloudy day, who would be dazzled in the sunlight. The dull weather, they say, is the best weather for battle; and sorrow is the best time for seeing through and conquering one's own self. Therefore do not be afraid, I say, of sorrow. All the clouds in the sky cannot move the sun a foot further off; and all the sorrow in the world cannot move God any further off. God is there still, where he always was; near you, and below you, and above you, and around you; for in him you live and move and have your being, and are the offspring and children of God. Nay, he is nearer you, if possible, in sorrow, than in joy. He is informing you, and guiding you with his eye, and, like a father, teaching you the right way which you should go. He is searching and purging your hearts, and cleansing you from your secret faults, and teaching you to know who you are and to know who he is--your Father, the knowledge of whom is life eternal. By these things, my friends-- by being brought low and made helpless, till ashamed of ourselves, and weary of ourselves, we lift up eyes and heart to God who made us, like lost children crying after a Father--by these things, I say, we live, and in all these things is the life of our spirit. SERMON XXXIII. THE UNCHANGEABLE ONE Psalm cxix. 89-96. For ever, O Lord, thy word is settled in heaven. Thy faithfulness is unto all generations: thou hast established the earth, and it abideth. They continue this day according to thine ordinances: for all are thy servants. Unless thy law had been my delight, I should then have perished in mine affliction. I will never forget thy precepts: for with them thou hast quickened me. I am thine, save me; for I have sought thy precepts. The wicked have waited for me to destroy me: but I will consider thy testimonies. I have seen an end of all perfection; but thy commandment is exceeding broad. The Psalmist is in great trouble. He does not know whom to trust, what to expect next, whom to look to. Everything seems failing and changing round him. His psalm was most probably written during the Babylonish captivity, at a time when all the countries and kingdoms of the east were being destroyed by the Chaldean armies. Then, he says, Be it so. If everything else changes, God cannot. If everything else fails, God's plans cannot. He can rest on the thought of God; of his goodness, his faithfulness, order, providence. God is governing the world righteously and orderly. Whatever disorder there is on earth, there is none in heaven. God's word endures for ever there. Then he looks on the world round him; all is well ordered--seasons, animals, sun, and stars abide. They continue this day according to God's ordinances. The unchangeableness of nature is a comfort to him; for it is a token of the unchangeablenes of God who made it. Now, I do beg you to think carefully over this verse; because it is quite against the very common notion that, because the earth was cursed for Adam's sake, therefore it is cursed now; that because it was said to him, Thorns and thistles shall it bring forth to thee, therefore that holds good now. It is not so, my friends; neither is there, as far as I know, in any part whatsoever of Scripture, any mention of Adam's curse continuing to our day. St. John, in the Revelations, certainly says, 'And there shall be no more curse.' But if you will read the Revelation, you will find that what he plainly refers to is to the fearful curses, the plagues, the vials of wrath, as he calls them, which were to be poured out on the earth; and then to cease when the New Jerusalem came down from heaven. St. Paul, again, knows nothing about any such curse upon the earth. He says that death came into the world by Adam's sin: but that must be understood only of man, and the world of man; and for this simple reason, that we know, without the possibility of doubt, that animals died in this world just as they do now, not only thousands, but hundreds of thousands of years before man appeared on earth. What St. Paul says of the creation, in one of his most glorious passages, is this--not that it is cursed, but that it groans and travails continually in the pangs of labour, trying to bring forth; trying to bring forth something better than itself; to develop, and rise from good to better, and from that to better still; till all things become perfect in a way which we cannot conceive, but which God has ordained before the foundation of the world. Besides, as a fact, the earth does not bring forth thorns and thistles to us, but good grain, and fruitful crops, and an abundant return for our labour, if we choose to till the ground. And wise men, who study God's works, can find no curse at all upon the earth, nor sign of a curse, neither in plants nor beasts, no, nor in the smallest gnat in the air. The more they look into the wonders of God's world, the more they find it true that there is order everywhere, beauty everywhere, fruitfulness everywhere, usefulness everywhere--that all things continue as at the beginning; that, as the psalmist says in another place, God has made them fast for ever and ever, and given them a law which cannot be broken. And if you will look at Genesis viii. 21, 22, you will find from the plain words of Scripture itself, that Adam's curse, whatever it was, was taken off after the flood, 'And the Lord smelled a sweet savour: and the Lord said in his heart, I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake; for the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth; neither will I again smite any more everything living, as I have done. While the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.' Therefore, my friends, open your eyes and your hearts freely to the message which God is sending you, in summer and winter, in seed-time and in harvest, in sunshine and in storm; that God is not a hard God, a revengeful God, a God of curses, who is extreme to mark what is done amiss, and keepeth his anger for ever. No: but that he is your Father in heaven, who hateth nothing that he has made, and whose mercy is over all his works; who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that therein is; who keepeth truth for ever; who helpeth them to right that suffer wrong; who feedeth the hungry; a God who feeds the birds of the air, though they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; and who clothes the grass of the field, which toils not, neither doth it spin; and who will much much more clothe and feed you, to whom he has given reason, understanding, and the power of learning his laws, the rules by which this world of his is made and works, and of turning them to your own profit in rational and honest labour. And think, my friends, if the old Psalmist, before Christ came, could believe all this, and find comfort in it, much more ought we. Shame to us if we do not. I had almost said, we deny Christ, if we do not. For who said those last words concerning the birds of the air, and the grass of the field? Who told us that we have not merely a Master or a Judge in heaven, but a Father in heaven? Who but that very Word of God, whom the Psalmist saw dimly and afar off? He knew that the Word of God abode for ever in heaven: but he knew not, as far as we can tell, that that same Word would condescend to be made flesh, and dwell among men that we might see his glory, full of grace and truth. The old Psalmist knew that God's word was full of truth, and that gave him comfort in the wild and sad times in which he lived; but he did not know--none of the Old Testament prophets knew,--how full God's word was of grace also. That he was so full of love, condescension, pity, generosity, so full of longing to seek and save all that was lost, to set right all that was wrong, in one word again, so full of grace, that he would condescend to be born of the Virgin Mary, suffer under Pontius Pilate, to be crucified, dead and buried, that he might become a faithful High Priest for us, full of understanding, fellow-feeling, pity, love, because he has been tempted in all things like as we are, yet without sin. My friends, was not the old Psalmist a Jew, and are not we Christian men? Then, if the old Psalmist could trust God, how much more should we? If he could find comfort in the thought of God's order, how much more should we? If he could find comfort in the thought of his justice, how much more should we? If he could find comfort in the thought of his love, how much more should we? Yes; let us be full of troubles, doubts, sorrows; let times be uncertain, dark, and dangerous; let strange new truths be discovered, which we cannot, at first sight, fit into what we know to be true already: we can still say, 'I will not fear, though the earth be moved, and the hills be carried into the midst of the sea.' For the word of God abideth for ever in heaven, even Jesus Christ, who is the Light of the world and the Life of men. To him all power is given in heaven and earth. He is set on the throne, judging right, and ministering true judgment among the people. All things, as the Psalmist says, come to an end. All men's plans, men's notions, men's systems, men's doctrines, grow old, wear out, and perish. The old order changes, giving place to the new: But God fulfils himself in many ways. For men are not ruling the world. Christ is ruling the world, and his commandment is exceeding broad. His laws are broad enough for all people, all countries, all ages; and strangely as they may seem to work, in the eyes of us short-sighted timorous human beings, still all is going well, and all will go well; for Christ reigns, and will reign, till he has put all enemies under his feet, and God be all in all. SERMON XXXIV. [GREEK: EN TOYTO NIKA] (Good Friday, 1860.) 1 Corinthians i. 23-25. But we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the Greeks foolishness; but unto them which are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God. Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men. The foolishness of God? The weakness of God? These are strange words. But they are St. Paul's words, not mine. If he had not said them first, I should not dare to say them now. But what do they mean? Can God be weak? Can God be foolish? No, says St. Paul. Nothing less. For so strong is God, that his very weakness, if he seems weak, is stronger than all mankind. So wise is God, that his very foolishness, if he seems foolish, is wiser than all mankind. Why then talk of the weakness of God, of the foolishness of God, if he be neither weak nor foolish? Why use words which seem blasphemous, if they are not true? I do not say these ugly words for myself. St. Paul did not say these ugly words for himself. But men have said them; too many men, and too often. The Jews, who sought after a sign, said them in St. Paul's time. The Corinthian Greeks, who sought after wisdom, said them also. There are men who say them now. We all are tempted at times to say them in our hearts. As often as we forget Good Friday, and what Good Friday means, and what Good Friday brought to all mankind, we do say them in our hearts; and charge God--though we should not like to confess it even to ourselves--with weakness and with folly. Now, how is this? Let us consider, first, how it was with these Jews and Greeks. Why did the cross of Christ, and the message of Good Friday, seem to them weakness and folly? Why did they answer St. Paul, 'Your Christ cannot be God, or he would never have allowed himself to be crucified?' The Jews required a sign; a sign from heaven; a sign of God's power. Thunder and earthquakes, armies of angels, taking vengeance on the heathen; these were the signs of Christ which they expected. A Christ who came in such awful glory as that, they would accept, and follow, and look to him to lead them against the Romans, that they might conquer them, and all the nations upon earth. And all that St. Paul gave them, was a sign of Christ's weakness. 'He was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. . . . He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows, yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.' Then said the Jews-- This is no Christ for us, this weak, despised, crucified Christ. Then answered St. Paul--Weak? I tell you that what seems to you weakness, is the very power of God. You Jews wish to conquer all mankind: and behold, instead, you yourselves are rushing to ruin and destruction: but what you cannot do, Christ on his cross can do. Weak, shamed, despised, dying man as he seemed, he is still conqueror; and he will conquer all mankind at last, and draw all men to himself. Know that what seems to you weakness, is the very power of God; the power of doing good, and of suffering all things, that he may do good: and that _that_ will conquer the world, when riches and glory, and armies, aye, the very thunder and the earthquake, have failed utterly. The Greeks, again, sought after wisdom. If St. Paul was (as he said) the apostle of God, then they expected him to argue with them on cunning points of philosophy; about the being of God, the nature of the world and of the soul; about finite and infinite, cause and effect, being and not being, and all those dark questions with which they astonished simple people, and gained power over them, and set up for wise men and teachers to their own profit and glory, pampering their own luxury and self-conceit. And all St. Paul gave them, seemed to them mere foolishness. He could have argued with these Greeks on those deep matters; for he was a great scholar, and a true philosopher, and could speak wisdom among those who were perfect: but he would not. He determined to know nothing among them but Jesus Christ, and him crucified; and he told them, You disputers of this world, while you are deceiving simple souls with enticing words of man's wisdom and philosophy, falsely so called, you are trifling away your own souls and your hearers' into hell. What you need, and what they need, is not philosophy, but a new heart and a right spirit. Sin is your disease; and you know that it is so, in the depth of your hearts. Then know this, that God so loved you, sinners as you are, that he condescended to become mortal man, and to give himself up to death, even the shameful and horrible death of the cross, that he might save you from your sins; and he that would be saved now, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow him. And to that, those proud Greeks answered,--That is a tale unworthy of philosophers. The Cross? It is a death of shame--the death of slaves and wretches. Tell your tale to slaves, not to us. To give himself up to the death of the cross is foolishness, and not the wisdom which we want. Then answered St. Paul and said,--True. The cross is a slave's and a wretch's death; and therefore slaves and wretches will hear me, though you will not. 'For you see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called: but God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: that no flesh should glory in his presence.' For the foolishness of God is wiser than all the wisdom of men. You Greeks, with all your philosophy and your wisdom, have been trying, for hundreds of years, to find out the laws of heaven and earth, and to set the world right by them; and you have not done it. You have not found out the secrets of the world. You have not set the world right. You have not even set your own hearts and lives right. But what your seeming wisdom cannot do, the seeming foolishness of Christ on his cross will do. Does it seem to you foolish of him, to believe that he could save the world, by giving himself up to a horrible and shameful death? Does it seem to you foolishness in me, to preach nothing but him crucified, and to say, Behold God dying for men? Then know, that what seems to you foolishness, is the very wisdom of God. That God knows the secret of touching, convincing, and converting the hearts of men, though you do not. That God knows how the world is made, and how to set it right, though you do not. That God knows the law which keeps all heaven and earth in order, though you do not; and that that law is charity,--self-sacrificing love, which shines out from the cross of Christ. Know, that when all your arguments and philosophies have failed to teach men what they ought to do, one earnest penitent look at Christ upon his cross will teach them. That their hearts will leap up in answer, and cry, If this be God, I can believe in him. If this be God, I can trust him. If this be God, I can obey him. That one look at Christ upon his cross will make them--what you could never make them--new men, filled with a new thought; the thought that God is love, and that he who dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and God in him; and that the poor slaves and wretches, whom you despise, will look unto the cross and be saved, and become new men, and lead new lives, and rise to be saints and martyrs to God and to his Christ, giving themselves up to torments and death, as Christ did before them; and that out of them shall spring that church of Christ, which shall reign over all the world, when you and your philosophies have crumbled into dust. My friends, let us look, earnestly, humbly, and solemnly this day, at Christ upon his cross. Let us learn that love, the utter self- sacrificing love which Christ shewed on his cross, is stronger than all pomp and might, all armies, riches, governments; aye, that it is the very power of God, by which all things consist, which holds together heaven and earth and all that is therein. Let us learn that love, the utter self-sacrificing love which Christ shewed on his cross, is wiser than all arguments, doctrines, philosophies, whether they be true or false; aye, that it is the very wisdom of God, by which he convinces and converts all hearts and souls; and let us look to the cross, and see there the wisdom of God, and the power of God, mighty to save to the uttermost all who come through Christ to him. And let us remember this, that whenever we fancy ourselves to be strong and powerful, and think to aggrandize ourselves at our neighbour's expense, and to crush those who are weaker than ourselves, then we are forgetting the lesson of Good Friday; that whenever we fancy that the way to be wise is, to use our wit and our knowledge for our own glory, and by them to manage our fellow-men, and make them admire us and bow down to us, then we forget the lesson of Good Friday. For whosoever gives himself up to selfish ambition, or to selfish cunning, charges Christ upon his cross with weakness and with foolishness, and denies the Lord who bought him with his blood. My friends, I have no more to say. Much more I might say. For Good Friday has many other meanings, and all the sermons of a lifetime would not exhaust them all. But one thing seemed to me fit to be said, and I say it again, and entreat you to carry it home with you, and live by the light of it all the year round. Do you wish to be powerful? Then look at Christ upon his cross; at what seems to men his weakness; and learn from him how to be strong. Do you wish to be wise? Then look at Christ upon the cross; and at what seemed to men his folly; and learn from him how to be wise. For sooner or later, I hope and trust, you will find that true, which St. Buonaventura (wise and strong himself) used to say,--That all the learning in the world had never taught him so much as the sight of Christ upon the cross. SERMON XXXV. THE ETERNAL MANHOOD (First Sunday after Easter.) John xx. 29. Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed; blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed. The eighth day after the Lord Jesus rose from the dead, he appeared a second time to his disciples. On this day he strengthened St. Thomas's weak faith, by giving him proof, sensible proof, that he was indeed and really the very same person who had been crucified, wearing the very same human nature, the very same man's body. 'Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed.' You have not seen. You have never beheld with your bodily eyes, or touched with your bodily hand, as St. Thomas did, the Lord Jesus Christ. And yet you may be more blessed now, this day, than St. Thomas was then. We are too apt to fancy, that, to have seen the Lord with our eyes, to have walked with him, and talked with him, as the apostles did, was the greatest honour and blessing which could happen to man. We fancy, perhaps, at times, that if the Lord Jesus were to come visibly among us now, we should want nothing more to make us good: that we could not help listening to him, obeying him, loving him. But the Scriptures prove to us that it was not so. The Scribes and Pharisees saw him and talked with him; yet they hated him. Judas Iscariot, yet he betrayed him. Pilate, yet he condemned him. The word preached profited them nothing, not being mixed with faith in those who heard him. Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, came and preached himself to them; declared to them who he was, proved who he was by his mighty works of love and mercy, and by fulfilling all the prophecies of Scripture which spoke of him; and yet they did not believe him, they hated him, they crucified him; because they had no faith. You see, therefore, that something more than seeing him with our bodily eyes is wanted to make us believe in the Lord Jesus Christ; something more than seeing him with our bodily eyes is wanted to make us blessed. St. Thomas saw him; St. Thomas was allowed, by the boundless condescension and mercy of the Lord Jesus, to put his hand into his side. And yet the Lord does not say to him,--See how blessed thou art; see how honoured thou art, by being allowed to touch me. No; our Lord rather rebukes him for requiring such a proof. There are those who will not believe without seeing; who say, I must have proof. What I hear in church is too much for me to believe without many more reasons than are given for it all. Many people, for instance, stumble at the stumbling-block of the cross, and cannot bring themselves to believe that God would condescend to suffer and to die for men. Others cannot make up their minds about the resurrection. It seems to them a strange and impossible thing that Jesus' body should have risen from the grave and ascended to heaven, and that our bodies should rise also. That was the great puzzle to the Greeks, who thought themselves very learned and cunning, and were great arguers and disputers about all deep matters in heaven and earth. When St. Paul preached to them on Mars' Hill, they heard him patiently enough, till he spoke of Jesus rising from the dead; and then they mocked; laughed at the notion as absurd. And we find that the Corinthians, even after they were converted and baptised Christians, were puzzled about this same matter. They could not understand how the dead were raised, and with what body they would come. With such the Lord is not angry. If they really wish to know what is true, and to do what is right; if they really are, as St. Paul says, 'feeling after the Lord, if haply they may find him;' then the Lord will give them light in due time, and shew them what they ought to believe, and give them the sort of proof which they want. All such he treats as he did Thomas, when he said, in his great condescension, 'Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands, and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side, and be not faithless but believing.' So the Lord sent to those Corinthians the very sort of proof which they wanted, by the hand of the learned apostle, St. Paul. They were great observers of the works of nature, of the strange movement and change, birth and death, which goes on in beasts, and in plants, and in the clouds, and the rivers, and the very stones under our feet. And they said, We cannot believe in the resurrection of the dead, because we see nothing like it in the world around us. And St. Paul was sent to tell them. No: you do see something like it. If you will look deeper into the working of the world around you, you will see that the rising again of the dead, instead of being an unnatural or an absurd thing, is the most reasonable and natural thing, the perfect fulfilment, and crowning wonder of wonderful laws which are working round you in every seed which you sow; in the flesh of beasts and fishes; in bodies celestial and bodies terrestrial: and so in that glorious chapter which we read in the Burial Service, St. Paul tells the Corinthians, who went altogether by sense, and reasoning about the things which they could see and handle, that sense and reasoning were on his side, on God's side; and that the mysteries of faith, like the resurrection of the body, were not contrary to reason, but agreed with it. So does the Lord clear up the doubts of his people, in the way which is best for them. But he does not call them as blessed as others. There is a higher faith than that. There is a better part. The same part which Mary chose. The same faith of which our Lord says,-- 'Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed.' The faith of the heart; the childlike, undoubting, ready, willing faith, which welcomes the news of the Lord; which runs to meet it, and is not astonished at it; and, if it ever doubts for a moment, only doubts for very joy and delight; and feeling that the news of the gospel is good news, cannot help feeling now and then that it is too good news to be true; shewing its love and its faith in its very hesitation. This is the childlike heart, whereof it is written, 'Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.' The hearts of little children; the hearts which begin by faith and love toward God himself; the hearts which know God; the hearts to whom God has revealed himself, and taught them, they know not how, that he is love. They are so sure of God's goodness, so sure of his power, so sure of his love, his willingness to have mercy, and to deliver poor creatures, that they find nothing strange, nothing difficult, in the mysteries of faith. To them it is not a thing incredible, that God should have come down and died upon the cross. When they hear the good news of him who gave his own life for them, it seems a natural thing to them, a reasonable thing: not of course a thing which they could have expected; but yet not a thing to doubt of or to be astonished at. For they know that God is love. And now some of you may say, 'Then are we more blessed than Thomas? We have not seen, and yet we have believed. We never doubted. We never wanted any arguments, or learned books, or special inward assurances. From the moment that we began to learn our catechisms at school we believed it, of course, every word of it. Do we not say the Creed every Sunday; I believe in--and so forth?' O my friends, do you believe indeed? If you do, blessed are you. But are you sure that you speak truth? You may believe it. But do you believe in it? Have you faith in it? Do you put your trust in it? Is your heart in it? Is it in your heart? Do you love it, rejoice in it, delight to think over it; to look forward to it, to make yourselves ready and fit for it. Do you believe in it, in short, or do you only believe it, as you believe that there is an Emperor of China, or that there is a country called America, or any other matter with which you have nothing to do, for which you care nothing, and which would make no difference at all to you, if you found out to-morrow that it was not so. That is mere dead belief; faith without works, which is dead, the belief of the brains, not the faith of the heart and spirit. Oh, do you really believe the good news of this text, in which the Son of God himself said to mortal men like ourselves, 'Handle me and see that it is I, indeed; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones as ye see me have.' Do you believe that there is a Man evermore on the right hand of God? That now as we speak a man is offering up before the Father his perfect and all-cleansing sacrifice? That, in the midst of the throne of God, is he himself who was born of the Virgin Mary, and crucified under Pontius Pilate? Do you wish to find out whether you believe that or not? Then look at your own hearts. Look at your own prayers. Do you think of the Lord Jesus Christ, do you pray to the Lord Jesus Christ, as a man, very man, born of woman? Do you pray to him as to one who can be touched with the feeling of your infirmities, because he has been tempted in all things like as you are, yet without sin? When you are sad, perplexed, do you take all your sorrows and doubts and troubles to the Lord Jesus, and speak them all out to him honestly and frankly, however reverently, as a man speaketh to his friend? Do you really cast all your care on him, because you believe that he careth for you? If you do, then indeed you believe in the resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ; and you will surely have your reward in a peace of mind, amid all the chances and changes of this mortal life, which passes man's understanding. That blessed knowledge that the Lord knows all, cares for all, condescends to all--That thought of a loving human face smiling upon your joys, sorrowing over your sorrows, watching you, educating you from youth to manhood, from manhood to the grave, from the grave to eternities of eternities-- Whosoever has felt that, has indeed found the pearl of great price, for which, if need be, he would give up all else in earth or heaven. Or do you say to yourselves at times, I must not think too much about the Lord Jesus's being man, lest I should forget that he is God? Do you shrink from opening your heart to him? Do you say within yourself, He is too great, too awful, to condescend to listen to my little mean troubles and anxieties? Besides, how can I expect him to feel for them; I, a mean, sinful man, and he the Almighty God? How do I know that he will not despise my meanness and paltriness? How do I know that he will not be angry with me? I must be more reverent to him, than to trouble him with very petty matters. He was a man once when he was upon earth: but now that he is ascended up on high, Very God of Very God, in the glory which he had with the Father before the worlds were made, I must have more awful and solemn thoughts about him, and keep at a more humble distance from him. Do you ever have such thoughts as those come over you, my friends, when you are thinking of the Lord Jesus, and praying to him? If you do, shall I tell you what to say to them when they arise in your minds, 'Get thee behind me, Satan.' Get thee away, thou accusing devil, who art accusing my Lord to me, and trying to make me fancy him less loving, less condescending, less tender, less understanding, than he was when he wept over the grave of Lazarus. Get thee away, thou lying hypocritical devil, who pretendest to be so very humble and reverent to the godhead of the Lord Jesus, in order that thou mayest make me forget what his godhead is like, forget what God's likeness is, forget that it was in his manhood, in his man's words, his man's thoughts, his man's actions, that he shewed forth the glory of God, the express image of his person, and fulfilled the blessed words, 'And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.' Get thee behind me, Satan. I believe in the good news of Easter Day, and thou shall not rob me of it. I believe that he who died upon the Cross, rose again the third day, as very and perfect man then and now, as he was when he bled and groaned on Calvary, and shuddered at the fear of death, in the garden of Gethsemane. Thou shalt not make my Lord's incarnation, his birth, his passion, his resurrection, all that he did and suffered in those thirty-three years, of none effect to me. Thou shalt not take from me the blessed message of my Bible, that there is a man in heaven in the midst of the throne of God. Thou shalt not take from me the blessed message of the Athanasian Creed, that in Christ the manhood is taken into God. Thou shalt not take from me the blessed message of Holy Communion, which declares that the very human flesh and blood of him who died on the Cross is now eternal in the heavens, and nourishes my body and soul to everlasting life. Thou shalt not, under pretence of voluntary humility and will-worship, tempt me to go and pray to angels or to saints, or to the Blessed Virgin, because I choose to fancy them more tender, more loving and condescending, more loving, more human, than the Lord himself, who gave himself to death for me. If the Lord God, the Son of the Father, is not ashamed to be man for ever and ever, I will not be ashamed to think of him as man; to pray to him as man; to believe and be sure that he can be touched with the feeling of my infirmities; to entreat him, by all that he did and suffered as a man, to deliver me from those temptations which he himself has conquered for himself; and to cry to him in the smallest, as well as in the most important matters--'By the mystery of thy holy incarnation; by thine agony and bloody sweat; by thy cross and passion; by thy precious death and burial; by thy glorious resurrection and ascension;' by all which thou hast done, and suffered, and conquered, as a man upon this earth of ours, good Lord, deliver us! SERMON XXXVI. THE BATTLE WITHIN (Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity, 1858.) Galatians, v. 16, 17. This I say then, Walk in the spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh. For the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would. Does this text seem to any of you difficult to understand? It need not be difficult to you; for it does not speak of anything which you do not know. It speaks of something which you have all felt, which goes on in you every day of your lives. It speaks of something, certainly, which is very curious, mysterious, difficult to put into words: but what is not curious and mysterious? The commonest things are usually the most curious? What is more wonderful than the beating of your heart; your pulse which beats all day long, without your thinking of it? Just so this battle, this struggle, which St. Paul speaks of in this text, is going on in us all day long, and yet we hardly think of it. Now what is this battle? What are these things which are fighting continually in your mind and in mine? St. Paul calls them the flesh and the spirit. 'The flesh,' he says, 'lusts against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh.' They pull opposite ways. One wants to do one thing, and the other the other. But if so, one of them must be in the right, and the other in the wrong. Now, St. Paul says, when these two fall out with each other, the spirit is in the right, and the flesh in the wrong. And therefore, the secret of life is, to walk in the spirit, and so not to fulfil the lusts of the flesh. But if so, it must be worth our while to find out which is flesh, and which is spirit in us, that we may know the foolish part of us from the wise. What the flesh is, we may see by looking at a dumb beast, which is all flesh, and has no immortal soul. It may be very cunning, brave, curiously formed, beautiful, but one thing you will always see, that a beast does what it likes, and only what it likes. And this is the mark of the flesh, that it does what it likes. It is selfish, and self-indulgent, cares for nothing but itself, and what it can get for itself. True, you may raise a dumb beast above that, by taming and training it. You may teach a horse or dog to do what it does _not_ like, and give it a sense of duty, and as it were awaken a soul in it. That is very wonderful, that we should be able to do so. It is a sign that man is made in God's likeness. But I cannot stay to speak of that now. I say our flesh, our animal nature, is selfish and self- indulgent. I do not say, therefore, that it is bad: God forbid. God made our bodies and brains, as well as our souls; and God makes nothing bad. It is blasphemous to say that he does. No, our bodies as bodies are good; the flesh as flesh is good, when it is in its right place; and its right place is to be servant, not master. We are not to walk after the flesh, says St. Paul: but the flesh is to walk after the spirit--in English, our bodies are to obey our spirits, our souls. For man has something higher than body in him. He has a spirit in him; and it is just having this spirit which makes him a man. For this spirit cares about higher things than mere gain and comfort. It can feel pity and mercy, love and generosity, justice and honour; and when a man not only feels them, but obeys them, then he is a true man--a Christian man: but, on the other hand, if a man does not; if he be a man in whom there is no mercy or pity, no generosity, no benevolence, no justice or honour; who cares for nothing and no one but himself, and filling his own stomach and his own pulse, and pleasing his own brute appetites in some way, what should you say of that man? You would say, he is like a brute beast--and you would say right--you would say just what St. Paul says. St. Paul would say, that man is fulfilling the lusts of the flesh; and you and St. Paul would mean just the same thing. Now, St. Paul says, 'The flesh in us lusts against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh.' And what do we gain by the spirit in us lusting against the flesh, and pulling us the opposite way? We gain this, St. Paul says, 'that we cannot do the things that we would.' Does that seem no great gain to you? Let me put it a little plainer. St. Paul means this, and just this, that you may not do whatever you like. St. Paul thought it the very best thing for a man not to be able to do whatever he liked. As long, St. Paul says, as a man does whatever he likes, he lives according to the flesh, and is no better than a dumb beast: but as soon as he begins to live according to the spirit, and does not do whatever he likes, but restrains himself, and keeps himself in order, then, and then only, he becomes a true man. But why not do whatever we like? Because if we did do so, we should be certain to do wrong. I do not mean that you and I here like nothing but what is wrong. God forbid. I trust the Spirit of God is with our spirits. But I mean this:--That if you could let a child grow up totally without any control whatsoever, I believe that before that lad was twenty-one he would have qualified himself for the gallows seven times over. Thank God, that cannot happen in England, because people are better taught, most of them at least; and more, we dare not do what we like, for fear of the law and the policeman. But, if you knew the lives which savages lead, who have neither law outside them to keep them straight by fear, nor the Spirit of God within them to keep them straight by duty and honour, then you would understand what I mean only too well. Now St. Paul says,--It is a good thing for a man not to be able to do what he likes. But there are two ways of keeping him from it. One is by the law, the other is by the Spirit of God. The law works on a man from the outside by fear; but the Spirit of God works in a man by honour, by the sense of duty, by making him like and love what is right, and making him see what a beautiful and noble thing right is. Now St. Paul wants us to restrain ourselves, not from fear of being punished, but because we like to do right. That is what he means when he says that we are to be led by the Spirit, instead of being under the law. It is better to be afraid of the law than to do wrong: but it is best of all to do right from the Spirit, and of our own free will. Am I puzzling you? I hope not: but, lest I should be, 1 will give you one simple example which ought to make all clear as to the struggle between a man's flesh and his spirit, and also as to doing right from the Spirit or from law. Suppose you were a soldier going into battle. You see your comrades falling around you, disfigured and cut up; you hear their groans and cries; and you are dreadfully afraid: and no shame to you. It is the common human instinct of self-preservation. The bravest men have told me that they are afraid at first going into action, and that they cannot get over the feeling. But what part of you is afraid? Your flesh, which is afraid of pain, just as a beast is of the whip. Then your flesh perhaps says, Run away--or at least skulk and hide--take care of yourself. But next, if you were a coward, the law would come into your mind, and you would say, But I dare not run away; for, if I do, I shall be shot as a deserter, or broke, and drummed out of the army. So you may go on, even though you are a coward: but that is not courage. You have not conquered your own fear--you have not conquered yourself--but the law has conquered you. But, if you are a brave man, as I trust you all are, a higher spirit than your own speaks to your spirit, and makes you say to yourself, I dare not run away; but, more, I cannot run away. I should like to--but I cannot do the things that I would. It is my duty to go on; it is right; it is a point of honour with me to my country, my regiment, my Queen, my God, and I must go on. Then you are walking in the Spirit. You have conquered yourself, and so are a really brave man. You have obeyed the Spirit, and you have your reward by feeling inspirited, as we say; you can face death with spirit, and fight with spirit. But the struggle between the Spirit and the flesh is not ended there. When you got excited, there would probably come over you the lust of fighting; you would get angry, get mad and lose your self- possession. There is the flesh waking up again, and saying, Be cruel; kill every one you meet. And to that the Spirit answers, No; be reasonable and merciful. Do not fulfil the lusts of the flesh, and turn yourself into a raging wild beast. Your business is not to butcher human beings, but to win a battle. Well; and even if you have conquered the enemy, you may not have conquered your worst enemy, which is yourself. For, after having fought bravely, and done your duty, what would the flesh say to you? I am sure it would say it to me. What but--Boast: talk of your own valiant deeds and successes; get all the praise and honour you can; and shew how much finer a person you are than any of your comrades. But what would the Spirit say?--and I trust you would all listen to the Spirit. The Spirit would say, No; do not boast; do not lower yourself into the likeness of a vain peacock: but be just, and be modest. Give every man his due; try to praise and recommend every one whom you can; and trust to God to make your doing your duty as clear as the light, and your brave actions as the noonday. So, you see, all through, a man's flesh might be lusting, and would be lusting, against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and see, too, how in each case, the flesh is tempting the man to be cowardly, brutal, vain, selfish, and wrong in some way, and the Spirit is striving to make him forget himself, and think of his comrades and his duty. Now when a man is led by the Spirit, if he is tempted to do wrong, he does not say, I will not do this wrong thing, but I cannot. I cannot do what you want me. I like to hear a man say that. It is a sign that he feels God's voice in him, which he must obey, whether he likes or not; as Joseph said when he was tempted. Not, I had rather not, or I dare not: but, How _can_ I do this great wickedness against my master, who has trusted me, and put everything into my hand, and so, by being a treacherous traitor, sin against God? Now, is this Spirit part of our spirits, or not? I think we confess ourselves that it is not. St. Paul says that it is not. For he says, there is one Spirit--that is, one good Spirit--of whom he speaks as the Spirit; and this, he says, is the Spirit of God, and the Spirit of Christ, and the Spirit which inspires the spirits of all noble, Christ-like, God-like men. In this Spirit there is nothing proud, spiteful, cruel, nothing selfish, false, and mean; nothing violent, loose, debauched. But he is an altogether good and noble spirit, whose fruit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance. This, he says, is the Spirit of God; and this Spirit he gives to those spirits,--souls, as we call them now,--who desire it, that they may become righteous with the righteousness of Christ, and good with the goodness of God. And is not this good news? I say, my friends, if we will look at it aright, there is no better news, no more inspiriting news for men like us, mixed up in the battle of life, and often pulled downward by our own bad passions, and ashamed of ourselves more or less, every day of our lives;--no better news, I say, than this, that what is good and right in us is not our own, but God's; that our longings after good, our sense of duty and honour, kindliness and charity, are not merely our own likings or fancies: but the voice of God's almighty and everlasting Spirit. Good news, indeed! For if God be for us who can be against us? If God's Spirit be with our spirits, they must surely be stronger than our selfish pleasure-loving flesh. If God himself be labouring to make us good; if he be putting into our hearts good desires; surely he can enable us to bring those desires to good effect: and all that is wanted of us, is to listen to God's voice within, and do the right like men, whatever pain it may cost us, sure that we, by God's help, shall win at last in the hardest battle of all battles, the victory over our own selves. SERMON XXXVII. HYPOCRISY Matthew xvi. 3. Oh ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the times? It will need, I think, some careful thought thoroughly to understand this text. Our Lord in it calls the Pharisees and Sadducees hypocrites; because, though they could use their common sense and experience to judge of the weather they would not use them to judge of the signs of the times; of what was going to happen to the Jewish nation. But how was their conduct hypocritical? Stupid we might call it, or unreasonable: but how hypocritical? That, I think, we may see better, by considering what the word hypocrite means. We mean now, generally, by a hypocrite, a man who pretends to be one thing, while he is another; who pretends to be pious and good, while he is leading a profligate life in secret; who pretends to believe certain doctrines, while at heart he disbelieves them; a man, in short, who is a scoundrel, _and knows it_; but who does not intend others to know it: who deceives others, but does not deceive himself. My friends, such a man is a hypocrite: but there is another kind of hypocrite, and a more common one by far; and that is, the hypocrite who not only deceives others, but deceives himself likewise; the hypocrite who (as one of the wisest living men puts it) is astonished that you should think him hypocritical. I do not say which of these two kinds is the worse. My duty is to judge no man. I only say that there are such people, and too many of them; that we ourselves are often in danger of becoming such hypocrites; and that this was the sort of people which the Pharisees for the most part were. Hypocrites who had not only deceived others, but themselves also; who thought themselves perfectly right, honest, and pious; who were therefore astonished and indignant at Christ's calling them hypocrites. How did they get into this strange state of mind? How may we get into it? Consider first what a hypocrite means. It means strictly neither more nor less than a play-actor; one who personates different characters on the stage. That is the one original meaning of the word hypocrite. Now recollect that a man may personate characters, like a play- actor, and pretend to be what he is not, for two different objects. He may do it for other people's sake, or for his own. 1. For other people's sake. As the Pharisees did, when they did all their works to be seen of men; and therefore, naturally, gave their attention as much as possible to outward forms and ceremonies, which could be seen by men. Now, understand me, before I go a step further, I am not going to speak against forms and ceremonies. No man less: and, above all, not against the Church forms and ceremonies, which have grown up, gradually and naturally, out of the piety, and experience, and practical common sense of many generations of God's saints. Men must have forms and ceremonies to put them in mind of the spiritual truths which they cannot see or handle. Men cannot get on without them; and those who throw away the Church forms have to invent fresh ones, and less good ones, for themselves. All, I say, have their forms and ceremonies; and all are in danger, as we churchmen are, of making those forms stand instead of true religion. In the Church or out of the Church, men are all tempted to have, like the Pharisees, their traditions of the elders, their little rules as to conduct, over and above what the Bible and the Prayer-book have commanded; and all are tempted to be more shocked if those rules are broken, than if really wrong and wicked things are done; and like the Pharisees of old, to be careful in paying tithe of mint, anise, and cummin, the commonest garden herbs, and yet forget the weighty matters of the law, justice, mercy, and judgment. I have known those who would be really more shocked at seeing a religious man dance or sing, than at hearing him tell a lie. But I will give no examples, lest I should set you on judging others. Or rather, the only example which I will give is that of these Pharisees, who have become, by our Lord's words about them, famous to all time, as hypocrites. Now you must bear in mind that these Pharisees were not villains and profligates. Many people, feeling, perhaps, how much of what the Lord had said against the Pharisees would apply to them, have tried to escape from that ugly thought, by making out the Pharisees worse men than our Lord does. But the fact is, that they cannot be proved to be worse than too many religious people now-a-days. There were adulterers, secret loose-livers among them. Are there none now-a- days? They were covetous. Are no religious professors covetous now-a-days? They crept into widows' houses, and, for a pretence made long prayers. Does no one do so now? There would, of course, be among them, as there is among all large religious parties, as there is now, a great deal of inconsistent and bad conduct. But, on the whole, there is no reason to suppose that the greater number of them were what we should call ill-livers. In that terrible twenty- third chapter of St. Matthew, in which our Lord denounces the sins of the Scribes and Pharisees, he nowhere accuses them of profligate living; and the Pharisee of whom he tells us in his parable, who went into the Temple to pray, no doubt spoke truth when he boasted of not being as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers. He trusted in himself that he was righteous. True. But whatever that means, it means that he thought that he was righteous, after a fashion, though it proved to be a wrong one. What our Lord complains of in them is, first, their hardness of heart; their pride in themselves, and their contempt for their fellowmen. Their very name Pharisee meant that. It meant separate--they were separate from mankind; a peculiar people; who alone knew the law, with whom alone God was pleased: while the rest of mankind, even of their own countrymen, knew not the law, and were accursed, and doomed to hell. Ah God, who are we to cast stones at the Pharisees of old, when this is the very thing which you may hear said in England from hundreds of pulpits every Sunday, with the mere difference, that instead of the word law, men put the word gospel. For this our Lord denounced them; and next, for their hypocrisy, their play-acting, the outward show of religion in which they delighted; trying to dress, and look, and behave differently from other men; doing all their good works to be seen of men; sounding a trumpet before them when they gave away alms; praying standing at the corners of the streets; going in long clothing, making broad their phylacteries, the written texts of Scripture which they sewed to their garments; washing perpetually when they came from the market, or any public place, lest they should have been defiled by the touch of an unclean thing, or person; loving the chief seats in their religious meetings, and the highest places at feasts; and so forth,--full of affectation, vanity, and pride. I could tell you other stories of their ridiculous affectations: but I shall not. They would only make you smile: and we could not judge them fairly, not being able to make full allowance for the difference of customs between the Jews and ourselves. Many of the things which our Lord blames them for, were not nearly so absurd in Judea of old, as they seem to us in England now. Indeed, no one but our Lord seems to have thought them absurd, or seen through the hollowness and emptiness of them:--as he perhaps sees through, my friends, a great deal which is thought very right in England now. Making allowance for the difference of the country, and of the times, the Pharisees were perhaps no more affected, for Jews, than many people are now, for Englishmen. And if it be answered, that though our religious fashions now-a-days are not commanded expressly by the Bible or the Prayer Book, yet they carry out their spirit:-- remember, in God's name, that that was exactly what the Pharisees said, and their excuse for being righteous above what was written; and that they could, and did, quote texts of Scripture for their phylacteries, their washings, and all their other affectations. Another reason I have for not dwelling too much on these affectations; and it is this. Because a man may be a play-actor and a self-deceiver in religion, without any of these tricks at all, and without much of the vanity and pride which cause them. For recollect that a man may act for his own amusement, as well as for other people's. Children do so perpetually, and especially when no one is by to listen to them. They delight in playing at being this person and that, and in living for a while in a day-dream. Oh let us take care that we do not do the same in our religion! It is but too easy to do so. Too easy; and too common. For is it not play- acting, like any child, to come to this church, and here to feel repentance, feel forgiveness, feel gratitude, feel reverence; and then to go out of church and awake as from a dream, and become our natural selves for the rest of the week, till Sunday comes round again; comforting ourselves meanwhile with the fancy that we had been very religious last Sunday, and intended to be very religious next Sunday likewise? Would there not be hypocrisy and play-acting in that, my friends? Now, my dear friends, if we give way to this sort of hypocrisy, we shall get, as too many do, into the habit of living two lives at once, without knowing it. Outside us will be our religious life of praying, and reading, and talking of good things, and doing good work (as, thank God, many do whose hearts are not altogether right with God, or their eyes single in his sight) good work, which I trust God will not forget in the last day, in spite of all our inconsistencies. Outside us, I say, will be our religious life: and inside us our own actual life, our own natural character, too often very little changed or improved at all. So by continually playing at religion, we shall deceive ourselves. We shall make an entirely wrong estimate of the state of our souls. We shall fancy that this outward religion of ours is the state of our soul. And then, if any one tells us that we are play-acting, and hypocrites, we shall be as astonished and indignant as the Pharisees were of old. We shall make the same mistake as a man would, who because he always wore clothes, should fancy at last that his clothes were himself, part of his own body. So, I say, many deceive themselves, and are more or less hypocrites to themselves. They do not, in general, deceive others; they are not, on the whole, hypocrites to their neighbours. For their neighbours, after a time, see what they cannot see themselves, that they are play-acting; that they are two different people without knowing it: that their religion is a thing apart from their real character. A hundred signs shew that. How many there are, for instance, who are, or seem tolerably earnest about religion, and doing good, as long as they are actually in church, or actually talking about religion. But all the rest of their time, what are they doing? What are they thinking of? Mere frivolity and empty amusement. Idle butterflies, pretending to be industrious bees once in the week. Others again, will be gentle and generous enough about everything but religion; and as soon as they get upon that, will become fierce, and hard, and narrow at once. Others again (and this is most common) commit the very same fault as the Pharisees in the text, who could use their common sense to discern the signs of the weather, and yet could not use it to discern the signs of the time, because they were afraid of looking honestly at the true state of public feeling and conscience, and at the danger and ruin into which their religion and their party were sinking. For about all worldly matters, these men will be as sound-headed and reasonable as they need be: but as soon as they get on religious matters, they become utterly silly and unreasonable; and will talk nonsense, listen to nonsense, and be satisfied with nonsense, such as they would not endure a moment if their own worldly interest, or worldly character, were in question. But most of all do these poor souls not deceive their neighbours when a time of temptation comes upon them. For then, alas! it comes out too often that they are of those whom our Lord spoke of, who heard the word gladly, but had no root in themselves, and in time of temptation fell away. For then, before the storm of some trying temptation, away goes all the play-acting religion; and the man's true self rises up from underneath into ugly life. Up rise, perhaps, pride, and self-will, and passion; up rise, perhaps, meanness and love of money; up rise, perhaps, cowardice and falsehood; or up rises foul and gross sin, causing some horrible scandal to religion, and to the name of Christ; while fools look on, and, laughing an evil laugh, cry,--'These are your high professors. These are your Pharisees, who were so much better than everybody else. When they are really tried, it seems they behave no better than we sinners.' Oh, these are the things which make a clergyman's heart truly sad. These are the things which make him long that all were over; that Christ would shortly accomplish the number of his elect, and hasten his kingdom, that we, with all those who are departed in the true faith of his holy name, may rest in peace for ever from sin and sinners. Not that I mean that some of these very people, in spite of all their inconsistency, will not be among that number. God forbid! How do we know that? How do we know that they are one whit worse than we should be in their place? How do we know, above all, that to have been found out may not be the very best thing that has happened to them since the day that they were born? How do we know that it may not be God's gracious medicine to enable them to find themselves out; to make them see themselves in their true colours; to purge them of all their play-acting; and begin all over again, crying to God, not with the lips only, but out of the depth of an honest and a noble shame, as David did of old--Behold I was shapen in wickedness, conceived in sin, and I have found it out at last. But thou requirest truth in the inward parts, in the very root and ground of the heart, and not merely truth in the head, in the lips, and in the outward behaviour. Make me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Thou desirest no sacrifice, else would I give it thee: but thou delightest not in burnt-offerings. The sacrifice of God is a broken spirit, as mine is now. A broken and a contrite heart, ground down by the shame of its own sin, that, O God, thou wilt not despise. And then--when that prayer has gone up in earnest, and has been answered by the gift of a clean heart, and of a right spirit, which desires nothing but to be made clean and made right, to learn its duty and to do it--then, I say, that man may go back safely and freely, to such forms and ceremonies, as he has been accustomed to, and have been consecrated by the piety and wisdom of his forefathers. For, says David, though forms and ceremonies, sacrifice and burnt-offering cannot make any peace with God, yet I am not going to give up forms and ceremonies, sacrifice and burnt- offerings. No. When my peace is made, when the broken and the contrite heart has put me in my true place again, and my heart is clean, and my spirit right once more; then, he says, will God be pleased with my sacrifices, with my burnt-offerings and oblations; because they will be the sacrifice of righteousness, of a righteous man desiring to shew honour to that God from whom his righteousness comes, and gratitude to that God to whom he owes his pardon. And so with us, my friends, if ever we have fallen, and been pardoned, and risen again to a new, a truer, a more honest, a more righteous life. Our forms of devotion ought then to become not a snare and a hypocrisy, but honest outward signs of the spiritual grace which is within us; as honest and as rational as the shake of the hand to the friend whom we truly love, as the bowing of the knee before the Queen for whom we would gladly die. O may God give us all grace to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. To seek first the kingdom of God; to work earnestly, each in his place, to do God's will, and to teach and help others to do it likewise. To seek his righteousness, which is the righteousness of the heart and spirit: and then all other things will be added to us. All outward forms and ceremonies, ways of speaking, ways of behaving, which are good and right for us, will come to us as a matter of course; growing up in us naturally and honestly, without any affectation or hypocrisy, and the purity and soberness, the reverence and earnestness of our outward conversation, will be a pattern of the purity and soberness, the reverence and earnestness, which dwells in our hearts by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit of God. SERMON XXXVIII. A PEOPLE PREPARED FOR THE LORD Ephesians iii. 3-6. How that by revelation he made known unto me the mystery (as I wrote afore in few words, whereby, when ye read, ye may understand my knowledge in the mystery of Christ), which in other ages was not made known unto the sons of men, as it is now revealed unto the holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit; that the Gentiles should be fellow-heirs, and of the same body, and partakers of his promise in Christ by the Gospel. This day is the feast of the Epiphany. Epiphany, as many of you know, means 'shewing,' because on this day the Lord Jesus Christ was first shewn to the Gentiles; to the Gentile wise men who, as you heard in the Gospel, saw his star in the east, and came to worship him. And the part of Scripture from which I have taken my text, is used for the Epistle this day, because in it St. Paul explains to us the meaning of the Epiphany. The meaning of those wise men being shewn our Lord, and worshipping him, though they were not Jews as he was, but Gentiles. He says that it means this, that the Gentiles were fellow-heirs with the Jews, and of the same body as them, and partakers of God's promise in Christ by the Gospel. This does not seem so very wonderful to us; and why? Because we, though we are Gentiles like those wise men, have lived so long, we and our forefathers before us, in the light of the Gospel, that we are inclined to take it as a matter of course; forgetting what a wonderful, unspeakable, condescension it was of God, not to spare his only begotten Son, but freely to give him for us. God forgive us! We are so heaped with blessings that we neglect them, forget them, take them as our right, instead of remembering our sins and ungratefulness, and saying, Thy mercies are new every morning; it is only of thy mercies that we are not consumed. But to St. Paul it was very wonderful news. A mystery, as he said; quite a new and astonishing thought, that heathens had any share in God's love and Christ's salvation. And so it was to St. Peter. God had to teach it him by that wonderful vision, in which he saw coming down from heaven all sorts of animals, and God bade him kill and eat; and when he refused, because they were common and unclean, God forbade him to call anything common or unclean, now that God had cleansed all things by the precious blood of his dear Son. Then Peter was bidden to go to the Gentile Roman soldier Cornelius. And he went, though, he said, he had been used to think it unlawful for a Jew even to eat with a Gentile. And when he went, he found, to his astonishment, that God's love was over that Gentile soldier and his family, because they were good men, as far as they had light and knowledge, just as much as if they had been good Jews. And God gave St. Peter a sign which there was no mistaking, that he really did care for those Gentile Romans, just as much as if they had been Jews; for, as he was preaching Christ to them, the Holy Ghost fell on them, not after, but before they were baptised. So that St. Peter, astonished as he was, was forced by his own conscience and reason to say, 'Can any man forbid water, that these should not be baptised, who have received the Holy Ghost as well as we' (Jews)? Then he commanded them to be baptised in the name of the Lord. And what was the lesson which God taught St. Peter by this? St. Peter himself tells us; for he opened his mouth and said, 'Of a truth I see that God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation, he that feareth God, and worketh righteousness, is accepted by him.' Now, my dear friends, this is (as the Lord Jesus Christ tells us) God's everlasting law, 'That he that hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundantly; but from him that hath not, shall be taken away even that which he seems to have.' So it was, as I have just shewn you, with Cornelius; and so it was with those wise men. They were worshippers (as is supposed) of the one true God, though in a dim confused way: but they had learnt enough of what true faith was, and of what true greatness was, too, not to be staggered and fall into unbelief, when they saw the King of the Jews, whom they had come so many hundred miles to see, laid, not in a palace, but in a manger; and attended not by princesses and noblewomen, but by a poor maiden, espoused to a carpenter. Therefore God bestowed on them that great honour, that they, first of all the Gentiles, should see the glory and the love of God in the face of Jesus Christ, his Son. And so it was with our forefathers, my friends. And I think that on this Epiphany, we ought to thank God, among all his other blessings, for having given us such forefathers, and letting us be born of that noble stock, to whom he gave the kingdom of God, after he took it away from the faithless and rebellious Jews, and afterwards from the false and profligate Greeks and Romans, to whom the epistles of the apostles were written. I will tell you what I mean. When the Lord Jesus came on earth; our forefathers did not live here in England, but in countries across the sea, in Germany, Denmark, and Sweden, which did not belong to the Roman Empire; for the Romans, who had conquered all the world beside, could never conquer our forefathers. It was God's will, that whenever they tried they were beaten back with shame and slaughter; and our forefathers, almost alone of all, remained free men, even as we are at this day. But for that very reason, the apostles could never come among us to preach the Gospel to us; for they could not pass the bounds of the Roman empire; and that was so large, that they had enough to do to preach the Gospel in it; so that it was not till at least 400 years after the apostles' death, that their successors, zealous missionaries, priests and bishops, came and preached to our forefathers; and when they came, they found us a people prepared for the Lord, who heard the word gladly, and turned, thousands sometimes in one day, from vain idols to serve the living God, and were baptised into that holy church in which we now stand. And it has been among us, and the nations who are our kinsmen, that the light of the gospel has shone ever since, while all through the East, where the apostles preached most and earliest, it has died out. So that our Lord's words have been fulfilled, that many that are last shall be first, and those that are first shall be last. God grant that it may not always be so. God grant that his kingdom may return to its ancient seat at Jerusalem, and that all nations may go up to the mountain of the Lord's house, in the day of which St. Paul prophesies, when the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled, and all Israel shall be saved, when the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. But it is not so now; and cannot be so, as far as we can see, for many a year to come. But in the meanwhile, why were our forefathers--heathens though they were, and sinners in many things, being truly children of wrath, fierce, bloodthirsty, revengeful, without the grace of Christ, which is Love and Charity--nevertheless a people prepared for the Lord? How was it true of them that to him that hath shall be given? I will tell you. There is an old book, written in Latin by a heathen gentleman of Rome, who lived in St. Paul's time, and wrote this book about twenty years after St. Paul's death. It is a little book; but it is a very precious one: and I think it is a great mercy of God that, while so many famous old books have been lost, this little book should have been preserved: for this Roman gentleman had travelled among our forefathers; and when he returned he wrote this book to shame his countrymen at Rome. In it he calls us 'Germans;' but that was the Roman fashion. By Germans they meant not only the people who now live in Germany, but the English and the Danes, and the Swedes, and the Franks, who afterwards conquered France. In fact he meant our own forefathers. And he said to the Romans,-- 'Look at these wild Germans. You despise them because they go half- naked, and cannot read or write, and live in mud cottages; while you go in silk and gold, and have all sorts of learning, and live in great cities, palaces, and temples, in worldly pomp and glory. But I tell you,' he said, 'that these wild Germans are better men than you; for, while you are living in sin, in cheating and falsehood, in covetousness, adultery, murder, and every horrible iniquity, they are honest, chaste, truthful; they honour their fathers and mothers; they are obedient and loyal to their kings and their laws; they shew hospitality to strangers; they do not commit adultery, steal, bear false witness, covet their neighbours' goods. And therefore,' this Roman felt (and really it seems as if a spirit of prophecy from God had come on him), 'something great and glorious will come out of these wild Germans, while the Romans will rot away and perish in their sins.' That was true enough. We see it true at this day. For what happened? That great Roman empire, Babylon the great, as St. John calls it in the Revelations, perished miserably and horribly by its own sins; while our forefathers rose and conquered it all, and live and thrive till this day. But it is curious that they never throve really, though they made great conquests, and did many wonderful deeds, till they became Christians: but as soon as they became Christians, they began to thrive at once, and settled down, and became that great family of nations, and kingdom of God, which we call Christendom; England, France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Sweden, and the other countries of Christian Europe; which God has so prospered for his Son Jesus Christ's sake, in spite of many sins and shortcomings, with wealth and numbers, skill, and learning, and strength, that now the empire of the whole world depends upon these few small Christian nations, which in our Lord's time were only tribes of heathen savages: so that here again our Lord's great parable was fulfilled. The gospel seed which the apostle sowed in those rich, luxurious, clever, learned, Romans, was like the seed which fell on thorny ground; and the cares and pleasures of this life, and the deceitfulness or riches, sprang up, and choked the word, and it remained unfruitful. But the gospel seed which was sown among our poor, wild, simple, ignorant forefathers, was the seed which fell on an honest and good heart, and took root, and brought forth fruit, some thirty, some fifty, and some one hundred fold. Epiphany came late to us--not for three hundred years after our Lord's birth: but, when it came, the light which it brought remained with us, and lights us even now from our cradle to our grave: and so again was fulfilled the Scripture, which says, that God chooses the weak things of this world to confound the strong; the foolish to confound the wise; yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought the things which are, that no flesh should glory in his presence. That no flesh should glory in his presence. For mind, my friends, our business is not to be high-minded but to fear. And we English are too apt to be high-minded now. We pride ourselves on our English character, English cleverness, English courage, English wealth. My friends, be not high-minded but fear. We have no right to pride ourselves on being Englishmen, if we do the very things which our forefathers were ashamed to do even when they were heathens. They honoured their fathers and mothers. Do we? They were loyal and obedient to law. Are we? They were chaste and clean livers: adultery was seldom heard of among them; and, when it was, they punished it in the most fearful way: while what astonished that old Roman gentleman, of whom I spoke, most of all, was the pure and respectable lives of the young men and women. Is it so now-a- days among us, my friends? They were honest, too, and just in all their dealings. Are we? They were true to their word; no men on earth more true. Are we? They hated covetousness and overreaching. Do we? They were generous, open-handed, hospitable. Are we? My friends, this was the old English spirit, which God accepted in our forefathers. Is it in us now? We must not pride ourselves on it, unless we have it. Nay, more, what is it but a shame to us, if, while our forefathers were good heathens, we are bad Christians? They had but a small spark, a dim ray, as it were, of the light which lighteth every man who comes into the world: but they were more faithful to that little than many are now, who live in the full sunshine of God's gospel, in the free dispensation of God's spirit, with Christ's sacraments, Christ's Churches, means of grace and hopes of glory, of which they never dreamed. May they not rise up against some of us in the day of judgment, and condemn us, and say,-- 'Are you our children? Do you boast of knowing God better than we did, while you did things which we dared not do? We knew that God hated such sins, and therefore we kept from them. You should know that better than we; for you had seen God's horror of sin in the death of his own Son Jesus Christ; and yet you went on committing the very sins which crucified the Lord of Glory.' My friends, I speak sober earnest. God grant that our old heathen forefathers may not rise up against us in the day of judgment, and condemn us. Let us turn to the Lord this day with all our hearts, and come to this holy table, confessing all our sins and unfaithfulness, and backslidings, that we may get there cleansing from his most precious blood, strength from his most precious body, life from his life, and spirit from his spirit; that so we may go away to lead new lives, following the commandments of God, and living up to our great light and knowledge, at least as well as our forefathers lived up to their little light. And so we shall really keep the feast of Epiphany in spirit and in truth: for Epiphany means the shewing of Jesus Christ to us Gentiles; and the way to prove that Jesus Christ has been shewn to us, and that we have seen his glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth, is to keep his commandments, and live lives like his. SERMON XXXIX. THE WRATH OF LOVE Psalm cvii. 6. Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their distresses. If I were asked to give a reason why I believed the Old Testament to be an inspired and divine book, as well as the New, I could not do better, I think, than to lay my hand on this 107th psalm, and say,-- This is my reason for believing the Old Testament to be inspired. I have hundreds of others: but this one is enough--this one psalm. It contains an account of God's dealings with men, such as the world never heard before, and very seldom since, save from a very few men, who really saw what the Bible meant, and honestly followed its teaching. It gives a notion of the justice of God, and an explanation of the chances and changes of this mortal life, such as you will find nowhere else save in the Bible, and in the books of Christian men who have been taught by the Bible. The man who wrote that psalm knew so much more than other men, that he must have been indeed inspired by the Spirit of Truth, and the Holy Ghost of God. And, I should say, I have come to this opinion mainly by comparing this psalm with the writings of heathens, even the wisest and the best of them. For the heathens, like all men, used to have their troubles, and to ask themselves, Who has sent this trouble? And why has he sent it? And their answers remain to us in their writings, some worse, some better, some very foolish, some tolerably wise. But when one compares the heathen writings with this psalm, or with any psalms or passages of the Old Testament which talk of God's dealings with man, then we shall be altogether astonished at the superiority of the Bible. The Bible will seem to us quite infinitely wiser than heathen books, on this matter, as on others-- so much more simple, and yet so much more deep; so much more rational also, and so much more true: agreeing so much more with the facts which we see happen round us: agreeing so much more with our own reason, experience, inward conscience, about what is just and unjust:--that we shall begin to see as much difference between heathen books and the Old Testament, as there is between the dim dawn of morning, and the full blaze of noonday light. One of the earliest heathen notions why troubles came was, it seems, that the gods were offended with men, because they had not shown them due honour, flattered them enough, or offered sacrifices enough to them: or else they fancied that the gods envied men: grudged their prosperity, did not like to see them too happy. That dark and base notion gradually faded away, as men got higher notions of right and wrong, and of the gods, as the judges and avengers of wrong. Then they began to think these troubles were punishments for doing wrong. The Gods, or God, punished sin; inflicting so much pain for so much sin, very much as the heathens are apt to punish their criminals still, and as Christian nations used to punish theirs, namely, with shameful and horrible tortures; before they began to find out that the end of punishment is not to torment, but to reform, the criminal, wherever it is possible. But then the thought would come--Why, after all, should God, if he be just and merciful, punish my sin by pain and misery? How can it profit God, how can it please God, to give me pain? Because it satisfies his justice? How can it do that? It would not satisfy mine. Suppose my child, or even my dog, disobeyed me, would it satisfy my sense of justice to beat him? It might satisfy my passion: but God has no passions. It would be base, blasphemous to fancy that he takes pleasure in hurting me, as I take pleasure in beating my dog when I lose my temper with it. God forbid! The old prophets saw that, and cried--'Have I any pleasure in the death of him, saith the Lord, and not rather that he should turn from his wickedness, and live?' Then, naturally, the thought would come into the mind of a wise and serious man--I punish my child, or my dog, and God punishes me. May he not punish me for the same reason that I punish them? I punish them to correct them and make them better. Surely God punishes me, to correct me, and make me better. I punish my child, because I love him, and wish him good. God punishes me because he loves me and desires that I may be a partaker of his holiness. And as soon as that blessed thought had risen up in any man's mind, by the inspiration of God's Holy Spirit, all the world would begin to look bright and clear and full of hope. This earth, with all its sorrows and sufferings, would look no longer to him as God's prison house, where poor sinners sat tortured and wailing, fast bound in misery and iron, till they should pay the uttermost farthing, which they never could pay. No. It would look to him as God's school- house, God's reformatory, in which he is training and chastening and correcting the souls of men, that he may deliver them from the ruin and misery which sin brings on them, both the original sin which is born in them and the actual sin which they commit. Then God appears to him a gracious and merciful father. He can see a blessed meaning and a wholesome use in all human suffering; and he can break out, as the Psalmist does in this glorious psalm, into praise and thanksgiving, and call on mankind to give thanks to the Lord; for he is gracious, and his mercy endureth for ever. In every kind of human suffering, I say, he sees now a meaning and a use. First, he takes, it seems, his own countrymen, the Jews, coming back from Babylon into their own country after the seventy years' captivity. They had been punished for their sins. But for what purpose? That they might know (as Ezekiel said), that God was the Lord. And when they cried unto him in their trouble, he delivered them out of their distress. Then he goes on to those who have brought themselves into poverty and shame, and sit fast bound in misery and iron. It is their own fault. They have brought it on themselves by rebelling against the word of the Lord, and lightly regarding the counsel of the Most Highest. But God does not hate them. God is not going to leave them to the net which they have spread for their own feet. When they cry unto the Lord in their troubles, he delivers them out of their distress. God himself, by strange and unexpected ways, will deliver them from their darkness of ignorance and sin, and from the danger and misery which they have brought upon themselves. Then he goes on to those who have injured their health by their own folly, till their soul abhors all manner of food, and they are even hard at death's door. Neither does God hate them. They, too, are in God's school-house. And when they cry to the Lord in their trouble, he will deliver them, too, out of their distress, and send his word, and heal them, and save them from destruction. Then he goes on to men who are exposed to danger, and terror, and death in their lawful calling; and his instance is the seamen--those who go on to the sea in ships, and occupy their business in great waters. The storms come up, they know not when or how: but they are not the sport of a blind chance; they are not the victims of the wrath of God. The wild sea, too, is his school-house, where they are to see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep; and so, by strange dangers and strange deliverances, learn, as I have seen many a seaman learn, a courage and endurance, a faith, a resignation, which puts us comfortable landsmen to shame. Then he goes on to even a deeper matter--to those terrible changes in nature, so common in the East, in which whole districts, by earthquake or drought, are rendered worthless and barren. They too, he says, are God's lessons, though sharp ones enough. 'He turneth the rivers into a wilderness, and the water-springs into dry ground; a fruitful land into barrenness, for the wickedness of them that dwell therein. Again, he turneth the wilderness into a standing water, and dry ground into water-springs. And there he maketh the hungry to dwell, that they may prepare a city for habitation; and sow the fields, and plant vineyards, which may yield fruits of increase.' Lastly, he goes on to political changes, which bring a whole nation low, into oppression and misery. 'They are minished and brought low through oppression, affliction and sorrow. He poureth contempt upon princes, and causeth them to wander in the wilderness, where there is no way. Yet setteth he the poor on high from affliction, and maketh him families like a flock. The righteous shall see it, and rejoice: and all iniquity shall stop her mouth. Whoso is wise, and will observe these things, even they shall understand the loving- kindness of the Lord.' And so, in all the changes of this mortal life, he sees no real chance, no real change, but the orderly education of a just and loving Father, whose mercy endureth for ever; who chastens men as a father chastens his children, for their profit, that they may be partakers of his holiness, in which alone is life and joy, health and wealth. Surely, here is a Gospel, and good news;--news so good, that it turns what seems to the superstitious the worst of news, into the very best. For it seems at first sight the worst of news that which the ninth Article tells us, that our original sin, in every person born into this world, deserves God's wrath and damnation. And so it would be the worst of news, if God were merely a judge, inflicting so much pain and misery for so much sin, without any wish to mend us and save us. But if we remember only the blessed message of this psalm; if we will remember that God is our Father; that God is educating us; that God hath neither parts nor passions; and that, therefore, God's wrath is not different or contrary to his love, but that God's wrath is his love in another shape, punishing men just because he loves men;--then the ninth Article will bring us the very best of news. We shall see that it is the best thing that can possibly befall us, that our sin deserves God's wrath and damnation, and that it would have been the worst thing which could possibly have befallen us, if our sin had not deserved God's wrath and damnation. For if our sin had not deserved God's anger, then he would not have been angry with it; and then he would have left it alone, instead of condemning it, and dooming it to everlasting destruction as he has done; and then, if our sin had been left alone, we should have been left alone to sin and sin on, growing continually more wicked, till our sin became our ruin. But now God hates our sin, and loves us; and therefore he desires above all things to deliver us from sin, and burn our sin up in his unquenchable fire, that we ourselves may not be burned up therein. For if our sins live, we shall surely die: but if our sins die, then, and then only, shall we live. Do these words seem strange to some of you? I doubt not that they will: but if they do, that will be only a fresh proof to me, that the Bible is inspired by the Holy Ghost. Yes, nothing shews me how wide, how deep, how wise, how heavenly the Bible is, as to see how far average Christians are behind the Bible in their way of thinking; how the salvation which it offers is too free for them, the love which it proclaims too wide for them, the God whom it reveals too good for them: so that they shrink from taking the Bible and trusting the Bible, in its fulness; and are perpetually falling back on heathen notions--the very old heathen notions from which this psalm delivers us--concerning what God's anger means, and what God's punishment means; because they are afraid of taking the words of Scripture literally and fully, and believing honestly the blessed news, that God is Love. They try to make God's ways as their ways, and God's thoughts as their thoughts. But do not you do so. Receive the Bible in its fulness. Believe that it tells you infinitely more of God's character and dealings, than you can ever tell yourselves; that God's ways are not as your ways, nor God's thoughts as your thoughts, even at their best: but that God's ways are always wider and deeper than yours, were you the most learned of men; God's thoughts are always more loving and just than yours, were you the most holy of men, and that when you have learned all that you can learn, or that any man can learn, out of the Bible, there will be still left behind treasures beside, which you have not yet found out. For the riches of Christ are unsearchable; like the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God, whose only-begotten son, and perfect likeness, he is; and the man who reads the Scripture with a single eye, and an humble heart, will see that the more he finds in the Bible, the more he has yet to find; and that if he studied it to all eternity, he would have fresh and fresh cause for ever to cry with the Psalmist, 'Oh give thanks to the Lord; for he is gracious, and his mercy endureth for ever!' Footnotes: {328} Plutarch. 
17273	----	[Transcriber's Note: A few details of transcription are given at the end of this file, along with a list of errata.] * * * * * AN E X P O S I T I O N OF THE LAST PSALME. DELIVERED IN A SERMON PREACHED AT PAVLES Crosse the fifth of Nouember 1613. _Which I haue ioyned to the Festiuals_ as a short Apologie for our _Holy daies in the Church_ _of England_. DEDICATED VNTO MY HONORABLE friend and most respected kinsman Sir _William_ _Monins Baronet_. _By IOHN BOYS, Doctor_ of Diuinitie. _AT LONDON_ Imprinted by FELIX KYNGSTON, for _William Aspley. 1615._ * * * * * GVNPOWDER TREASON DAY. Psalme 150. _O praise God in his holinesse, &c._ All the Psalmes of _Dauid_ are comprised in two words, [a]_Halleluiah_, and _Hosanna_, that is, blessed be God, and God blesse; as being for the greater part either praiers vnto God for receiuing mercies, or else praises vnto God for escaping miseries. This our present Hymne placed as a [b]Conclusion of the whole booke; yea, the beginning, middle, end, to which all the rest (as [c]_Musculus_ obserueth are to be referred) inuiteth vs in prescript and postscript, in title, in text, in euery verse, and in euery Clause of euery verse to _praise the Lord_. Teaching these two points especially: 1. For what } God is to be magnified. 2. With what } For what, vers. 1, 2. _O praise God in his holinesse, praise him in the firmament of his power, praise him in his noble acts, praise him according to his excellent greatnesse._ With what, euen with all that is Without vs, vers. 3. 4. 5. _Praise him in the sound of the trumpet, &c._ Within vs, vers. 6. _Omnis spiritus_, &c. _Let euery spirit praise the Lord, praise yee the Lord._ [Sidenote a: _Gueuara._] [Sidenote b: _Lyra in loc._] [Sidenote c: _In loc._] This in briefe is the whole texts _Epitomie_, I come now to the words _Anotomie_, cutting vp euery part and particle seuerally, beginning first at the first, _O praise God in his holinesse_. Of which one sentence the Doctors haue many (though not aduerse yet diuerse) readings, especially three: _Praise God in his Saints, praise God in his sanctitie, praise God in his sanctuarie_. _S. Hierome_, _Augustine_, _Prosper_, and [d]other as well ancient interpreters as moderne translate here praise God in his _Saints_. For if he must be praised in all his creatures, how much more in his new creatures? if in the witlesse wormes, and senselesse vapours, Psal. 148, much more doubtlesse (as _Theodorit_ here collects) in men, in holie men, in _Saints_, vpon whom hee hath out of his [e]vnsearchable riches of mercie, bestowed the blessings of the [f]life present; and of that which is to come. [Sidenote d: _Chrysost. Basil. Euthym. Arabs apud Muscul. Lyra. Hugo Card. Turrecremat. Anonymus._] [Sidenote e: _Ephes. 3. 8.16._] [Sidenote f: _1. Tim. 4. 8._] First, almightie God is to be blessed for giuing his Saints such eminent gifts of grace for the good of his Church, and for the setting foorth of his glorie. So _Chrysostome_, _Basil_, _Euthymius_, _Prosper_, _Placidus_, _Parmensis_ expound it. [g]Euery good and perfit gift is from aboue, descending from the father of lights, a good thought in a saint is _gratia infusa_, a good word in a saint is _gratia effusa_, a good deed in a saint is _gratia diffusa_, through his grace which is the God of [h]all grace, saints are [i]whatsoeuer they are. Wherefore praise the Lord in his Saints, often remember their vertues as their true _reliques_, and as it were bequeathed [k]_legacies_ vnto Gods people. So the wise man, Ecclesiasticus 44. _Let vs now commend the famous men in old time, by whom the Lord hath gotten great glorie, let the people speake of their wisdome, and the congregation of their praise._ So the Confession of _Bohemia_, chap. 17. [l]_Wee teach that the Saints are worshipped truly, when the people on certaine daies at a time appointed, doe come together to the seruice of God, and doe call to minde and meditate vpon his benefits bestowed vpon holie men, and through them vpon his Church_, &c. And for as much as it is kindly to consider, _opus diei in die suo_, the worke of the day[m] in the same day it was wrought; it is well ordered by the Church of England, that the most illustrious and remarkable qualities of the saints are celebrated vpon their proper festiuals, that on S. _Stephens_ day, we may learne by S. _Stephens_ example to loue our enemies: on S. _Matthewes_ day, to forsake the world and to follow Christ: on S. _Iohn the Baptist_ his day, to speake the truth constantly, and to suffer for the same patiently. Thus in stedfastnes of faith and godlinesse of life (_non legere modò sed degere sanctorum vitas_, as [n]one wittily) to bee followers of them as they were followers of Christ; is (as [o]blessed _Latymer_ was wont to say) the right worshipping of Saints, and of God in his Saints. [Sidenote g: _Iames 1. 17._] [Sidenote h: _1. Pet. 5. 10._] [Sidenote i: _1. Cor. 15. 10._] [Sidenote k: _Euseb. Emisen. hom. de S. Maximo._] [Sidenote l: _See Harmon. confess. sect. 16. pag. 486._] [Sidenote m: _Maior præsat. in Psal. 22._] [Sidenote n: _Owin epigram. lib. 3._] [Sidenote o: _Ser. on Christmas day preached at Bexterly, & ser. on S. Stephens day at Grimstorpe._] Againe, for as much as there is a _communion of Saints_, as we cõfesse in the Creed, a knot of fellowship betweene the dead Saints and the liuing; it is our dutie to praise God for their good in particular, as they[p] pray to God for our good in generall. It is required on our part I say, to giue God most humble thanks for translating th{~e} out of this [q]valley of teares into Hierusalem aboue, where they be [r]clothed with long white robes, hauing palmes in their hands, and [s]crownes of gold on their heads, euer liuing in that happie kingdome without either dying or crying, Apocal. 21. 4. and this also (in the iudgment of _Augustine_, _Hierome_, _Hugo_, _Raynerius,_ and other) is to _praise God in his Saints_. [Sidenote p: _Apocal._ 6. 10.] [Sidenote q: _Psal._ 84. 6.] [Sidenote r: _Apocal._ 7. 9.] [Sidenote s: _Apocal._ 4. 4.] These reasons are the grounds of certaine _holy daies_ established in England by law, namely to blesse God for his Saints eminent grace while they were liuing, and exceeding glorie now they be dead. Wherein our Church ascribes not any diuine worship to the Saints, but all due praise to the sanctifier: in celebrating their memorie (saith _Augustine_) we neither adore their honour, nor implore their helpe: but (according to the tenour of our text) wee praise him alone, [t]who made them both men and martyrs. In the words of [u]_Hierome_ to _Riparius_: _Honoramus reliquias martyrum, vt eum cuius sunt martyres adoremus: honoramus seruos, vt honor seruorum redundet ad dominum:_ If thou desire to doe right vnto the Saints, esteeme them as paternes, and not as patrones of thy life; honour them only so farre, [x]that thou maist alway praise God in them, and praise them in God. [Sidenote t: _De ciuit. lib._ 8. _cap._ 27.] [Sidenote u: _Tom._ 2 _fol._ 118] [Sidenote x: _Philip Mornæus de missa, lib. 3 cap. 11. See Melanct. resp. ad art. Bauar. art. 25._] The gunpowder men erre very much in this one kinde of honouring God, for either they worship _his Saints_ as himselfe, or else their owne saintlings, and not _his Saints_. In praying to the dead, in mingling the blood of their martyrs with the precious blood of their Maker, in applying their merits, and relying vpon their mercies; it is plaine that they make the Saints (as _Melancthon_ tels them in his [y]Apologie for the Confession of _Auspurge_) quartermasters with God, and halfe mediatours with Christ, I say ioynt mediatours not of incercession only but of [z]redemption also. Nay they make the blessed Virgin vpon the poynt their only _mediatrix_ and _aduocate_, so they sing, and so they say. They sing in their publique seruice, [aa]_Maria mater gratiæ, mater misericordiæ_, &c. the which is Gods owne stile, 1. Pet. 1. 10. & 2. Cor. 1. 3. so they likewise say, _Maria consolatio infirmorum, redemptio captiuorum, liberatio damnatorum, salus vniuersorum._ [ab]_Giselbertus in lib. altercationis Synagogæ et ecclesiæ, cap. 20. Maria quasi maria_, saith _Augustinus de Leonissa_, sermon 5 vpon _Aue maria_, for as all riuers come from the seas, and returne to the seas againe, Ecclesiastes 1. 7: [ac]so forsooth (if you will vndertake to beleeue him) all grace is deriued from _Mary_, and ought to be returned again to _Mary_. We finde so much _in [ad]Rosario Mariæ, reparatrix & saluatrix desperantis animæ_, &c. That which is worse, their owne Pope (who cannot, as they teach, erre in a poynt of doctrine as Pope) calleth her expresly _Deam_. _Pet. Bembus_ in his epistles written in Pope _Leo 10._ name, _lib. 8. epist. 17._ printed at _Strasburg an. 1609._ that which is worst of all, in their most approued Bible: they translate Gen. 3. 15. _ipsa conteret caput tuum_: she shall breake thine head, although (as their owne Iesuit [ae]_Ribera_ confesseth honestly) the _Hebrew_ text, the _Chaldee_ paraphrase, the translation of the _Septuagint_, and all good _Latin_ copies reade _ipse conteret_, he shall bruise the serpents head, applying it to Christ, according to that of _Paul_, _The God of peace shall tread downe Satan vnder your feete_, Rom. 16. 20. by this euidence you may see that the gunpowder crue praise not God in the saints, nor the saints in God: but on the contrarie the saints as God. [Sidenote y: _Tit. de sanct. inuocat._] [Sidenote z: _See D. Fulke in 1. Tim 2. 5._] [Sidenote aa: _Bellar. de sanct. beat. cap. 17._] [Sidenote ab: _Apud Magdeburg. Cent. 10. Coll. 275._] [Sidenote ac: _See Gospell Annunciat._] [Sidenote ad: _Chemnit. exam. Con. Trident. part. 3. pag. 151._] [Sidenote ae: _In Habacuc. cap. 1. num. 32._] Againe these S. _Peter_ men (and as I haue warrant to terme them on this day _Salt Peter men_) erre from the true meaning of our text, because they doe not praise God _in sanctis eius_, in his saints: but dishonour God _in sanctis eorum_, in saints of their owne making, vsually praying vnto some who were no men, and to many who were not holy men. It is doubted by the two great lights in their glorious firmament, _Bellarmine_ and _Baronius_, whether there were euer any such man as S. _George_, or such a woman as S. _Catharine_. Cardinall _Bellarmine_ _lib. de beatitudine sanct. cap. vlt. §. respondeo sanctorum_ doth acknowledge that they worship certaine saints whose stories are vncertaine, reputing the legend of S. _George_ apocryphall according to the censure of Pope [af]_Gelasius:_ and Cardinall _Baronius ecclesiast. annal. Tom. 2. ad an. 290._ according to the impression at Rome, fol. 650. as also _de Martyrologio Romano, cap. 2._ confesseth as much of _Quiriacus_ and _Iulitta_, declaring plainely that their acts are written either by fooles or heretikes, and in his annotations vpon the _Romane Martyrologie_ 23. Aprill, he taketh vp _Iacobus de Voragine_ for his leaden Legend of our English S. _George_, concluding in fine, that the picture of Saint _George_ fighting with a Dragon is _symbolicall_, and not _historicall_. If the Scripture be true [ag]_whatsoeuer is not of faith is sinne_: then assuredly these men (as [ah]_Paul_ speaks) _are damned of their owne selues_ in their owne conscience, who (notwithstanding all their doubts) pray still in their publike seruice, [ai]_Deus, qui nos beati Georgij martyris tui meritis & intercessione lætificas, Concede propitius, &c._ An Idoll as _Paul_ affirmes, 1. Cor. 8. 4. is nothing, _Ergo_, the Papists in worshipping S. _George_ which is nothing, commit (euen themselues being Iudges) abominable Idolatrie. [Sidenote af: _Can. sanct. Roman. dist. 15._] [Sidenote ag: _Rom. 14. 23._] [Sidenote ah: _Tit. 3. 11._] [Sidenote ai: _Missal. Roman. ex Con. Triden. decret. restit. in festo Georgij._] As they worship some who were no men, so many who were not [ak]holy men, as a reuerend [al]Doctor of our Church accutely, _Non martyres domini sed mancipes diaboli_: the Souldiour who peirced Christs holy side was a Pagan,[am] neither doth any storie which is authenticall speake of his conuersion, and yet they worship him vnder the name of S. _Longinus_, or Longesse, March 15. _Papias_ (as [an]_Eusebius_ and [ao]_Hierome_ report) held the heresie of the _Millenarians_, and yet he is honoured as a saint in the Romane Calender vpon the 22. of Februarie. _Becket_ was a bad subiect in his life, and no good Christian at his death, in that hee commended himselfe and the cause of his Church vnto S. [ap]_Denys_ and our Lady. Yet S. _Thomas of Canterburie_ was honoured at Canterburie in the daies of popish ignorance more then either the worlds Sauiour, or the blessed Virgine his mother: in which relation I appeale to the records of that Church, as also to the very stones vnder his shrine worne with the knees and hands of such as came thither to worship him. _Boccace_ reporteth how one Sir _Chappelet_ a notorious Italian Vsurer and Cousoner came to be honoured as a Saint in France. _Sanders_ among them is a saint, albeit he liued in plotting, and dyed in acting rebellion against his gracious Soueraigne Queene _Elizabeth_ of famous and blessed memorie. Nay _Dauus_ is _Diuus_, _Saul_ is among the Prophets, _pater personatus_, father _Parsons_ all the daies of his life was a perpetual Martyr, as his fellow [aq]_Ribadeneira_ termeth him: and yet one (who sometime was his inner man, and knew him as I presume, better then euer did _Ribadeneira_) transposing the letters of _Robertus Parsonius Iesuita_, found this _anagramme_, _Personatus versuti oris abi_: the wit-foundred drunkard, _Henry Garnet_ (who did not according to the Counsell of [ar]_Paul_ vse _vino modico_: but as [as]_Paulinus_ pretily _modio_) that lecherous treacherous Arch-priest, Arch-traitor, Arch-diuell in concealing, if not in contriuing: in patronizing, if not in plotting the powder intended massacre, is returned a Saint from beyond the seas with [at]_à sancte Henrice intercede pro nobis_: his action is iustified, his life commended, his death honoured, his miracles and memorie celebrated by that _Ignatian_ spirit, ([au]_portentum nominis portentum hominis_, hauing a great deale of name, though a very little modestie) _Andreas Eudæmon Ioannes Cydonius_: but notwithstanding his apologie, the saintship of _Henry Garnet_ is so buffeted by the replies and antilogies of our accuratlie learned diuines, as that his straw face will hereafter hardly be worth a straw. _Catesbie_, _Winter_, _Rookwood_, and the rest of the Cole-saints and hole-saints (who laboured in the diuels mine by the Popes mint) are numbred among the holy ones also: Babilon and Egypt praise God in them, and for them. I haue heard much of _roaring_ gentlemen in _London_ and _Canterburie_, but if the Lord himselfe had not watched ouer his Church, if the Lord himselfe had not written England in the [ax]palmes of his hands, if the Lord himselfe had not kept King _Iames_ as the [ay]apple of his eye, [az]if the Lord himselfe had not been on our side (now may Gods Israell in England say) if the Lord himselfe had not been on our side, when they rose vp against vs, if the Lord himselfe had not (out of his vnspeakeable goodnesse toward vs and our posteritie) broken their snares, and deliuered our soules out of that horrible gunpowder pit; these bellowing Buls of Basan, and Canon-mouthed hell-hounds would haue made on this day such a roare, that all Christendome should haue felt it, and the whole world haue feared it. [ba]_O Lord God of all power, blessed be thy name, which hast this day brought to nought the enemies of thy people,[bb] so let all thine enemies perish._ _O Lord, that our[bc] mouthes may be filled with laughter and our tongue with ioy._ _Sint diui modo non viui_, let England hang such, although afterward Rome hallow such, he that hath an eye to see without the spectacles of a Iesuit, will affoord as good credit to the register at _Tiburne_ as to the Calender of _Tyber_: for if these be Martyrs, I wonder who are Murtherers? If these be Saints, I pray you who are Scythians? If these bee Catholikes, who are Canibals? [Sidenote ak: _Dr. Sutclif examin. of Rom. cap. 7._] [Sidenote al: _Dr. Abbot Antilog. pag. 3._] [Sidenote am: _Sutclif. vbi sup._] [Sidenote an: _Hist. lib. 3. cap. vlt._] [Sidenote ao: _Catalog. scrip. in vita pap._] [Sidenote ap: _Houenden annal. part. poster. pag. 298._] [Sidenote aq: _Catalog. scrip. Iesuit. in vita Parsonij._] [Sidenote ar: _1. Tim. 5. 23._] [Sidenote as: _Epist. lib. 3. epist. 6._] [Sidenote at: _Sheldon preface before his motiues._] [Sidenote au: _Eliens. epist. lector. ante resp. ad Bellar. apol._] [Sidenote ax: _Esay 49. 16._] [Sidenote ay: _Deut. 32. 10._] [Sidenote az: _Psal. 124._] [Sidenote ba: _Judith. 13. 4._] [Sidenote bb: _Iudges 5. 31._] [Sidenote bc: _Psalm. 126. 2._] I passe to the second exposition of these wordes, _O praise God in his sanctitie_, so _Munster_, _Pagninus_, _Beza_, _Tremelius_ and our old translation heere, _Praise God in his holinesse_: now God is holy _formaliter & effectiuè_, holy in himselfe, and making other holy; the Lord is glorious in holinesse Exod. 15. 11. Wheras other Gods are famous for their vnholinesse, _Venus_ was a wanton, _Mercurius_ a theefe, _Iupiter_ a monsterous adulterer, an ingenious man (as[bd] _Basile_ writes) would blush to report that of beastes, which the Gentiles haue recorded of their Gods. If such imputations are true saith [be]_Augustine_, _quàm mali_ how wicked are these Gods: if false _quàm malè_ how wretched and foolish are these men, adoring the same things in the temple, which they scoffe at in the theater, _in turpitudine[bf] nimium liberi, in superstitione nimium serui_: so that their Gods are not as our God, euen our enemies being Iudges Deut. 32. 31. there is none holy as the Lord 1. Sam. 2. 2. called[bg] often in holy Scripture _the holy one_, yea thrice holy; _holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts_ Esay. 6. 3. his [bh]name is holy, his [bi]law is holy, his [bk]spirit is holy, his will holy, his word holy, _righteous in all his waies, and holy in all his workes_ Psalm. 145. 17. making vs also which are his seruants an _holy people_ Deut. 7. 6. an _holy priest-hood_ 1. Pet. 2. 5. _his holy temples_ 1. Cor. 6. 19. our bodies, our soules, our selues, our whole [bl]seruice holy, wherefore _praise God in his holinesse_. [Sidenote bd: _Lib. de legend. libris gentilium._] [Sidenote be: _De Ciuit. Dei lib. 6. cap. 6._] [Sidenote bf: _August. contra faust. man. li. 12. cap. 40._] [Sidenote bg: _Esay 1. 4. & 10. 20._] [Sidenote bh: _Luk. 1. 49._] [Sidenote bi: _Psal. 19. 7._] [Sidenote bk: _Mark. 12. 36._] [Sidenote bl: _1. Pet. 3. 2._] [bm]_Luther_, _Caluin_, _Vatablus_, your _English-Geneua_ bibles, & our new translation haue praise God in his _sanctuarie_, the which in holy scripture signifieth either heuen, or the temple, heauen is often called in sacred writ _Gods sanctuarie_, for [bn]thus saith he that is high and excellent, he that inhabiteth eternitie, whose name is the holy one, _I dwell in the high and holy place_. Christ in comming to vs is said to _breake the heauens_ Esay 64. 1. and when he went from vs vnto his father _a cloud tooke him vp into heauen_ Acts 1. and _frõ heauen_ he shal come againe to iudge the quicke and the dead 1. Thes. 4. 16. That _his sanctuarie_ may be taken heere for heauen, is gathered out of the very next clause (_praise him in the firmament of his power_) the which (as [bo]_Caluin_ & [bp]other expositors haue well obserued,) is exegeticall, and expoundes the former, as if Dauid should haue said, praise the Lord in his sanctuary, that is _in the firmament of his power_, for the heauens declare the glory of God and the firmament sheweth his handy worke Psalm. 19. 1. let all people praise God our father in heauen, especially such as dwell with him [bq]in heauen, O praise the Lord all ye blessed Angels and Saints inhabiting his sanctuarie which is highest and holiest. [Sidenote bm: _Idem Genebrard et alij._] [Sidenote bn: _Esay 57. 15._] [Sidenote bo: _In loc._] [Sidenote bp: _Bellarmine in loc._] [Sidenote bq: _Genebrard Agellius Acernensis epist. in loc._] [br]Other apply the word _sanctuary_ to the Temple, so termed for two respects especially. 1. because God manifesteth _his holines_ toward vs in that holy place more principally, calling it expresly [bs]_his house_. 2. a _sanctuarie_ in regard of our _holy seruice_ toward God, for albeit euery day be to the good man a sabbath, and euery place a temple; yet the God of Order hath appointed certaine times, and certaine places also, wherein hee will bee worshipped publiquely, saying Leuiticus 19. 30. _Ye shall obserue my sabbaths, and reuerence my sanctuary_. For our holines toward God concerneth vs [bt]one way in that we are men, and another way in that we are ioyned as parts to that visible mystical body which is his Church as men, wee are at our owne choyce both for time, and place, and forme, according to the exigence of our owne occasions in priuate, but the seruice which is to bee done of vs as the members of a publique body, must of necessity bee publique, and so consequently to bee performed on holy daies in holy places, and for this doctrine the scriptures afford both patent and paterne, the patent is reported by the Prophet _Esay_: Chap. 56. vers. 7. and repeated by Christ in [bu]three seuerall Euangelists: _my house shall be called an house of prayer for all people_. The paterns are manifold, _I will enter into thine house in the multitude of thy mercies, and in thy feare will I worship toward thine holy temple_, saith our Prophet, Psal. 5. 7. The Publican and the Pharisie went _into the temple to pray_, Luke 18. _Peter_ and _Iohn_ went vp together _into the temple at the ninth houre of prayer_, Acts 3. _Anna_ fasted and _prayed in the temple_, Luke 2. This one word, _sanctuarie_ teacheth vs how we should behaue our selues in the Church as in Gods presence: Doest thou come to that holie place to receiue the blessed Supper of our Lord? remember that the temple is _sanctuarium, non promptuarium_, a sanctuarie, not a buttrie, [bx]_haue ye not houses to eate and drink in, despise yee the Church of God?_ Doest thou come to pray? [by]_take heede to thy foote when thou entrest into Gods house_, compose thy knees, and eyes, and hands, and heart after such a deuout manner: as that thou maist not onely praise God vpon the loud cymbals, but (as it is vers. 5.) _praise him vpon the well tuned cymbals_ also. Doest thou come to heare the sermon? remember that the preaching of the Gospel is [bz]not the word of a mortall man, but the [ca]power of the immortall God vnto saluation: and albeit the Preacher be neuer so simple, neuer so sinfull; yet the word is holy, the action holy, the time holy, the place holy, ordained by the most holy to make thee holy. Vpon whatsoeuer occasion thou commest into the Temple, remember alwaies that the ground is holy whereon thou standest, it is a _sanctuarie_, the habitation of God, and place of his _holinesse_: and therefore not to be [cb]prophaned with ordinarie though lawfull worldly businesse, much lesse with vnlawfull pastimes and enterludes, it is a place for praise, not for playes, _O praise God in his sanctuarie_. [Sidenote br: _Luther Vatablus Chald. apud Genebrard english Com. dedicated to Mr. Herlakinden._] [Sidenote bs: _Esay. 56. 7._] [Sidenote bt: _Hooker eccles. pol. lib. 5. §. 24._] [Sidenote bu: _Mark 11. 7. Luke 19. 46. Matth. 21. 13._] [Sidenote bx: _1. Cor. 11. 22._] [Sidenote by: _Ecclesiastes 4. 17._] [Sidenote bz: _1. Thess. 2. 13._] [Sidenote ca: _Rom. 1. 6._] [Sidenote cb: _Canon 88._] Or (as [cc]_Martine Luther_ interprets it) praise God _in his sanctuarie_, that is, _for his sanctuarie_, for [cd]shewing his word vnto _Iacob_, his statutes and ordinances vnto _Israel_, for his adoption, and his couenants, and his promises, and his seruice, Rom. 9. 4. O praise the Lord for his [ce]true Church established for the present among the Iewes, and hereafter in the fulnesse of time to be constituted among Christians vntill the worlds end. For this clause may bee construed of the mysticall heauen and temple, so well as of the materiall heauen and temple. The good man (I meane the true Christian) is not only Gods [cf]house, but also Gods [cg]temple, yea, Gods heauen, as [ch]_Augustine_ expounds the words of Christ, _Our father which art in heauen_, that is, in holy men of heuenly conuersation, in whose sanctified hearts hee dwelleth as in his [ci]sanctuarie. _Archimedes_ in his conference with _Hiero_ said, _Giue me a place where I may stand out of the world, and I will moue the whole earth_. In like manner, he that will bee reputed a Saint, and so take vpon him to remoue men earthly minded from their worldinesse, must himselfe at the least haue one foote out of the world, seeking (as the blessed [ck]Apostle speakes) the things aboue, that [cl]other may see his good workes, and glorifie God which is in Heauen, that is (according to the true soule of our text) _praise God in his Saints_ which are his sacrarie, his sanctuarie, his house, his heauen. [Sidenote cc: _In loc._] [Sidenote cd: _Psal. 147. 19._] [Sidenote ce: _Christ. Corn. in loc._] [Sidenote cf: _Heb. 3. 6._] [Sidenote cg: _1. Cor. 3. 16_] [Sidenote ch: _Lib. 2. de ser. dom. in mont._] [Sidenote ci: _Bellarm. & Corn. in loc. vel hoc dicit de populo, vel de vita sancta Chrysost. Basil. in loc._] [Sidenote ck: _Coloss. 3. 1._] [Sidenote cl: _Mat. 5. 16._] Heere then all the three diuers lines (_praise God in his Saints, praise God in his sanctitie, praise God in his sanctuarie_) meet in one centrie; namely, God is to be praised in his sanctuarie for his sanctitie conferred vpon his Saints, whereby they shined as [cm]lights in this heauen on earth, and shine like [cn]starres in that heauen of heauen. If I were not (according to the text and the time) foreward to prosecute the Gunpowder men, as the more dangerous enemies of God and his Gospell, I might vpon this ground take vp the bucklers against idle _Nouelists_, vtterly condemning the _festiuals of holie Saints_, established in our Church by good order of law. Their principal obiection is taken out of _Pauls_ Epistle to the Galathians, chap. 4. verse 10. _Yee obserue dayes and monethes, and times and yeares, I am afraid of you, lest I haue bestowed vpon you labour in vaine._ To which answere is made, that there is a [co]foure-fold obseruation of {Naturall. {Politicall. daies {Ecclesiasticall. {Superstitious. Of all which onely the superstitious is condemned, as _Aretius_ and _Illiricus_, and [cp]other Protestant Diuines vpon the place. Now the superstitious obseruation is either _Iudaicall_ or _Idolatricall_; it is apparant that _Paul_ meant the first hereof especially, [cq]because the Galathians after they were conuerted vnto Christ, were seduced by false teachers vnto the ceremonies of the Iewes, as concerning the Sabbaths & the new Moones, and the like, the which were figures of Christ and had their end in him.[cr] _Are yee so foolish, that hauing begun in the spirit, yee would now be made perfit by the flesh?_ As for _Idolatricall_ obseruing of times, it is granted easily that the _Pagans_ (in dedicating feasts vnto false gods, and in making [cs]differences of daies dismall and fortunate, either by curious arts, or by particular fansies, or popular obseruations) are worthily reputed superstitious. And the [ct]_Papists_ also (solemnizing holie daies of the Saints in their Churches with idolatrous worshipping of the creatures, and their Images: and out of their Churches with Epicurelike belly-cheere, reuelling, & idlenesse) _turn againe to the beggarly rudiments and fashions of the world_: But the festiuals of England (celebrated according to the doctrine and Iniunctions of our Church) are verie farre from these and all other kindes of superstition. [cu]For then is God truly worshipped in the publike congregation, I say the true God is truly praised in his true Saints; on our holie daies the sacraments are rightly ministred, the Scriptures are fruitfully read, the Word is faithfully preached; all which are maine meanes to withdraw men not only from superstition and idolatrie, but also from all sortes of error and impietie whatsoeuer. [Sidenote cm: _Philip 2. 15._] [Sidenote cn: _Dan. 12. 3._] [Sidenote co: _Illiric. in Galat. 4._] [Sidenote cp: _See Sir Christop. Heydons answer to Mr. Chambers, pag. 368. and how the fathers answere this. Bellarmin. de sanct. Cultu, cap. 10._] [Sidenote cq: _English glosse._] [Sidenote cr: _Galat. 3. 3._] [Sidenote cs: _See Ambrose in Galat. 4. & August. epist. 119. cap. 7._] [Sidenote ct: _Dr. Fulke in Galat. 4. 10._] [Sidenote cu: _See Dr. Whitgifts defence of his answere to the admonit. fol. 538. 539._] Yea, but the words of the Commandement are, _sixe daies shalt thou labour_: _Ergo_, there should be no holie day besides the Lords day. [cx]Protestant Diuines answere that the clause (_sixe daies shalt thou labour_) is a permission, or a remission of Gods right, who might chalenge to himselfe all our time for his worke, and not a restraint for any man from seruing of God on any day. For the Iewes beside the Sabbath had diuers other feasts; as _Easter_, _the feast of vnleauened bread_, _the feast of first fruits_, _Whitsuntide_, _the feast of blowing Trumpets_, _the feast of Tabernacles_; all which (as we reade Leuiticus 23) they kept by Gods appointment holie, notwithstanding these words of the law, _sixe daies shalt thou labour_. And so the Christian Church in all ages hath vpon iust occasions separated some weeke daies vnto the praising of the Lord, and rest from labour. Ioel 2. 15. _Blow the trumpet in Sion, sanctifie a fast, call a solemne assemblie._ [cy]Daies of publike fasting for some great iudgement, daies of publike reioycing for some great benefit, are not vnlawfull, but exceeding commendable, yea necessarie. Whosoeuer doubts of the Churches libertie herein, or of the practise of this libertie, may peruse the ninth chapter of _Ester_, in which it will appeare, that Gods people by the commandement of _Mordecai_, did euery yeare solemnize and keepe holy the fourteenth and fifteenth day of the moneth _Adar_, in remembrance of their great deliuerie from the Treason of _Haman_. Vpon these grounds the last euer renouned Parliament enacted, That wee should for euer spend the prime part of this present fifth of Nouember in praying and praising the Lord, for his vnspeakable goodnesse in deliuering our King, Queene, Prince and States of this realme from that hellish, horrible, bloody, barbarous intended massacre by Gunpowder. Now that I may for my part execute the will of the Parliament (sparing the _Nouelists_, and referring such as desire to bee further satisfied in this argument of holy dayes, vnto the iudicious writings of my most honoured and honourable maister, _Archbishop Whitgift_, in the [cz]defence of his answere to the Admonition) I proceede in the text, _praise him in his noble acts, praise him according to his excellent greatnesse_. [Sidenote cx: _B. Babington in 4. com. Caluins Cat. Dr. Whitgift vbi supra fol. 542. & 553. six daies thou maiest labour._] [Sidenote cy: _Perkins aur. Cat. cap. 23._] [Sidenote cz: _From pag. 538. to 555._] [da]Some reade _Laudate eum in [db]virtutibus eius_, praise him in his _powers_: [dc]other _ob fortitudinem eius_, praise him in his _power_; and according to these two diuerse translations, I find two different expositions; one construing it of Gods glorious [dd]Angels, and the other applying it to Gods glorious acts: For the first it is euident in holy writ, that there bee certaine distinctions and degrees of Angels in the quier of Heauen, there be _Seraphins_, Esay 6. 2. _Cherubins_, Gen. 3. 24. _Thrones, Dominions, Principalities, and Powers_, Colloss. 1. 16. in all which and for all which God is to be praised, as being his [de]ministring spirits for the good of such as shall be heires of saluation; as long as wee serue God, all these serue vs, euen the Cherubins, and Seraphins, Angels, and Archangels. I say, so long as we serue the Lord, these pages of his honour and parts of his courts attend vs, and pitch their tents about vs: a doctrine very profitable, very comfortable, yet for as much as I hold it lesse pertinent to the present occasion I thus ouerpasse it, and hast to that other exposition interpreting these words (as our Church readeth) of Gods _noble acts_. [Sidenote da: _Vulgar Latine Castalio._] [Sidenote db: _Pagnin._ In fortitudinibus.] [Sidenote dc: _Vatablus Munster._] [Sidenote dd: _Turrecremat. & Raynerius in loc._] [Sidenote de: _Heb. 1. 14._] Now the workes of God are of two sorts, _ad intra_ & _ad extra_: some be confined within himselfe, other extended towards vs: works of the sacred Trinitie within it selfe (as that the Father begets, and the Sonne is begotten, and the holy Ghost proceeds from both) are wonderfull acts of such an high nature that it is our dutie rather simply to adore, then subtilly to explore them: all his acts extended toward vs are summarilie reduced vnto two, namely the works of creation and redemption. [df]The worke of creation is attributed in the Masse of the matter to God the Father, in the disposition of the forme to God the Sonne, in the preseruation of both to God the holy Ghost. So likewise that of redemption, in election vnto God the Father, in the consummation vnto God the Sonne, in the application vnto the holy Ghost, all which are very _noble acts_, and God is to be praised in them _according to his excellent greatnesse_. The worke of creation is so mightie, that none could bring it to passe but the Father almightie: that God should haue nothing but nothing, whereof, wherewith, whereby to build this high, huge, goodly, faire frame; is a principle which nature cannot teach, and Philosophie will not beleeue. The worke of redemption is of farre greater might and mercy, for the making of the world was (if I may so speke) onely lip-labour vnto God, _he spake the word and it was done, he commanded and it stood fast_, Psalm. 33. 9. but Christ in redeeming the world said many words, and did many wonders, and suffered also many wounds. It is true that the least ake of his least finger is _infiniti meriti, sed non definiti meriti_, that is of an infinite merit, yet not that determined ransome for the sinnes of the whole world. It cost him more to redeeme soules, [dg]_he dyed for our sinnes and rose againe for our iustification_, hee suffered for vs and that death, and that a violent death, and of all violent deaths the most accursed death on the Crosse. [Sidenote df: _Aduancement of learning lib. 2. pag. 116._] [Sidenote dg: _Rom. 4. 25._] The worke of sanctification is a noble act also, for euery man if you rightly consider his making is a wonder, I am saith our [dh]Prophet fearfully and wonderfully made: but a good man if you consider his new making is a wonderfull wonder, as [di]_Paul_ speakes _a spectacle to men and Angels_, as the vulgar Latine runnes in the 68. Psalme, at the last verse, _mirabilis deus in sanctis_, O God wonderfull art thou in thy Saints. [Sidenote dh: _Psalm. 139. 13._] [Sidenote di: _1. Cor. 4. 9._] But _Dauid_ [dk]here meaneth especially the valiant acts of God in gouerning & garding his people from their enemies, [dl]O come hither and behold the workes of God, how wonderfull hee is in his doing toward the Children of men, he turned the sea into drye land so that his people went on foot thorough the middest of the sea, the [dm]waters were a wall vnto them on the right hand and on their left; but the waues of the Sea returned and couered the chariots and horsemen euen all the hoast of _Pharaoh_ that pursued them. Almighty God raigned hailstones out of heauen vpon the cursed Amorites at Bethoran, and they were more ([dn]saith the text) that dyed with the haile, then they whom the Children of Israell slew with the sword. And when Duke _Iosua_ prayed, _Sunne stay thou in Gibeon, & thou Moone in the valey of Aialon_: _the Sunne abode and the Moone stood still vntill the people auenged themselues vpon their enemies_. When _Zenacherib_ and his innumerous hoast came to fight against _Hezekiah_ King of Iuda, Gods Angell in one night slew an hundred eighty and fiue thousand Assyrians. 2. Kings 19. [Sidenote dk: _Placid. Parmen and the english Com. dedicated to M. Herlakinden._] [Sidenote dl: _Psalm. 66. 4._] [Sidenote dm: _Exod. 14. 29._] [Sidenote dn: _Iosua 10._] And vndoubtedly (beloued) there is no nation vnder the cope of Heauen hath had greater occasion to praise God in this kind then England, the preseruation of the most illustrious princesse the Lady _Elizabeth_ vnder the fiery triall of her vnkind sister Queene _Marie_ was a _noble act_, and the seminary of much happinesse vnto this kingdome for many yeares after, and so much the more noble because _Philip_ King of Spaine hath often confessed that he spared her life (when wildy _Winchester_ and bloodie _Bonner_ had brought her into the snare) not out of any pietie or pittie, but onely out of policie. Her exaltation to the Crowne was another _noble act_, so noble that some [do]Popish Prelats in their enuie burst a sunder and dyed for very griefe of heart. Well might that good Lady sing and say with the blessed Virgine, _He that is mightie hath magnified me, and holy is his name, he hath put downe the mightie from their seat and hath exalted the humble and meeke_: her flourishing in health, wealth, and godlinesse, more then 44. yeares (in despite of all her foes abroad, at home, schismaticall, hereticall, open, intestine) was another _noble act_: for after once the Bull of Pope _Pius Quintus_ had roared, and his fat Calues had begunne to bellow in this Island: there passed neuer a yeare, neuer a moneth, neuer a weeke (I thinke I might say) neuer a day, neuer an houre, but some mischiefe was intended either against her person or her people: the resisting of the rebellion in the Northerne parts of England, was _a noble act_: the discouering and so consequently the defeating of _Campians_ treason _a noble act_: of _Parris_ treason _a noble act_: of the _Lupus Lopus_ his treason, _a noble act_: of _Squires_ treason, _a noble act_. Her glorious victories against her fell and insolent enemies the _Spaniards_ in _Ireland_, in _Flanders_, in _France_, in their owne dominions of _Portugal_, _Indies_, and _Spaine_ were _noble acts_. It was a wonder of wonders, that a _Mayden Queene_ should at one time be both a staffe to _Flanders_, and a stay to _France_, a terror to _Pope_, a mirror to _Turke_, feared abroad, loued at home, Mistresse of the Sea, wonder of the world. Shee might truely bee called a _Prince of Peace_, for shee was Crowned in Peace, shee liued in Peace, she dyed in Peace, she was buried in Peace: and when shee had slept with her Fathers, it was another _noble act_ of the Lord to send vs in the midst of all our feare so learned, so meeke, so pious a Prince as King _Iames_, in such exceeding sweet peace, that neuer a sword was drawn, happily neuer a word spoken against him. All these were _noble acts_, and ought to be had in a perpetuall remembrance. But of all other noble preseruations, _Our deliuerance from that intended mercilesse and matchlesse Massacre both in fact and fiction, the fifth of Nouember, in the yeare 1605._ is most _noblie noble_. King _Iames_ on this day might haue said with King [dp]_Dauid_, _O Lord which art my rocke and my fortresse, thou hast giuen me the necks of mine enemies, that I might destroy them that hate me, that I might breake them as small as the dust of the earth, and tread them flat as the clay of the streete_. [dq]_O giue thankes vnto the Lord, for he is gracious, and his mercy endureth for euer. Let Israel now confesse that he is gracious, and that his mercy endureth for euer. Let the house of Aaron now confesse that his mercy endureth for euer. Yea let all such as feare the Lord now confesse that his mercy endureth for euer._ All the Congregations of the Saints in the whole world, haue good cause to thanke God our strength and deliuerer. _Scotland_ hath good cause, for if _England_ had been but a _Tuesday breakefast_, assuredly _Scotland_ should haue been but a _Fridaies drinking_, one morsell as it were for the greedy deuourer. The Churches in _France_ relieued often by vs, haue good cause to reioyce with vs. Our neighbours of _Holland_ haue good cause to triumphe as they doe, for if our house had been set on fire, their house being the next would haue been quickly pulled downe. The Churches in _Germanie_, _Denmarke_, _Hungarie_, _Geneua_ likewise haue good cause to _praise God in this noble act according to his excellent greatnesse_. [Sidenote do: _See M. Foxe Martyr. in fine._] [Sidenote dp: _2. Sam. 22. 41._] [Sidenote dq: _Psalm. 118._] More principally the Common-weale of England, and in it all men of all factions, and all fashions whatsoeuer. _Atheists_ (if they think there be a God) haue good cause to thanke God, acknowledging his mercie toward them in sparing vs, and so sauing the bad for the [dr]righteous sake. _Carnall Gospellers_ haue good cause to thanke God, confessing that so long as [ds]_Lot_ is in _Sodome_, it can not be destroyed; and so long as _Moses_ standeth in the [dt]gap, and [du]prayeth for his people, Gods wrathfull indignation can not deuoure vs. Yea, let the _Gunpowder men_ themselues (if they haue any sparke of grace) confesse that God is to be praised in this _noble act_; for suppose (God be thanked, we may suppose and dispose thus of these matters vnto our comfort) I say suppose, their diuelish plot had been acted, I assure my selfe our cause had been farre better, and our number farre greater than theirs; and as for our sinnes (which are indeede our greatest enemies) they would haue brought into the field so many as we: so that hauing so much armour of light, and more armour of proofe then they, [dx]_Causa iubet melior superos sperare secundos_. [Sidenote dr: _Gen. 18. 26._] [Sidenote ds: _Gen. 19. 22._] [Sidenote dt: _Psalm. 106. 23._] [Sidenote du: _Exod. 32. 11._] [Sidenote dx: _Lucan._] But suppose the least and the worst part had ouercome the bigger and the better, yet (if they bee not hewen out of hard rockes) if these _Romanists_ haue not sucked the milke of wolues (as it is reported of the first founder of Rome) they would haue relented to see their natiue Country made nothing else but a verie shambles of _Italian_ and _Ignatian_ butchers. When _Alexander_ saw the dead corps of _Darius_; and _Iulius Cæsar_, the head of _Pompey_; and _Marcus Marcellus_, _Syracusa_ burne; and _Scipio_, _Numantia_ spoild; and _Titus_, _Hierusalem_ made [dy]euen with the ground, they could not abstaine from weeping, albeit they were mortall enemies. But aboue all other in this kingdome, the truely zealous, and zealously true hearted protestants haue greatest occasion of reioycing; for if the Lord had not (_according to his excellent greatnes_, and according to his excellent goodnes too) deliuered vs out of this gun-powder gulfe, our bodies happily might haue beene made food for the foules, or else fewell for the fire; and that which would haue grieued our posteritie more, supersition and Idolatrie might in short time haue been replanted in this land; I meane that vpstart Antichristian religion of _Rome_, wherein many things, especially foure (as iudicious [dz]_Fox_ well obserued) are most abominable. 1. Vnlimited jurisdiction, derogatorie to all Kings and Emperours. 2. Insolent titles, preiudiciall to all Bishops and Prelates. 3. Corrupt doctrine, injurious to all Christians. 4. Filthie lise, detestable to all men. [Sidenote dy: _Luc. 19. 44._] [Sidenote dz: _Martyr. pag. 1._] The greater was our danger, the greater was our deliuerance; the greater our deliuerance, the greater our thankes should be; for as it followeth in my text, _God is to be praised according to his excellent greatnes_. It is true that our most and best praises are few for the number, and little for the measure; whereas God is infinite for his goodnes, and in his greatnesse incomprehensible. So that the meaning of [ea]_Dauid_ is, that we should praise him according to our capacitie, and not according to his immensitie; according to the grace bestowed vpon vs, and not according to the glorie which is in him. Ecclesiasticus 43. 30. _Praise the Lord, and magnifie him as much as ye can, yet doth he farre exceed. Exalt him with all your power, and be not weary, yet can ye not attaine vnto it._ [Sidenote ea: _Basil. Musculus, Placid. parnen. in loc._] Now where the Lord giueth a greater meane, there he requireth a greater measure; where he bestoweth a greater portion of giftes, he doth expect a greater proportion of glorie. Wherefore seeing the Lord hath out of his abundant mercie conferred vpon this kingdome inestimable blessings, in the preaching of his word for the space of more then fiftie yeares; it is questionlesse he lookes for no little thankes or small praise, but for great thankes and great praise according to his excellent greatnesse manifested in this our deliuerance. I come therefore to the second part of this Psalme, shewing _with what_ God is to be praised, _In the sound of the trumpet, &c._ God is to be praised (saith [eb]_Augustine_) _totis votis de totis vobis_ with all your soules, and with all your selues. That therefore we may manifest our inward affections by such outward actions as are commendable, where there be _trumpets_, let them sound: where there be _lutes_ and _harpes_, let them strike vp: where there be _loud Cymbals_ and _well tuned Cymbals_, let them ring, let them sing the praises of God for this our most happy deliuerance; let trumpet and tongue, viol & voice, lute & life, witnes our hartie reioycing in the Lord. If our true zeale were more fierie within, it would doubtlesse break forth into moe publike workes, then it doth, against that bloody brood of the Gun-powder crue. There haue been many collections in euery Dioces for the reedifying of the Churches of Saint _Albanes_ and _Arthuret_, the which I assure my selfe were good works: there haue been in this latter age many gorgeous, I might say glorious buildings erected about and in this honorable Citie, to the great ornament of our Country, the which I thinke you may number among your good workes: there haue bin Lotteries to further _Virginean_ enterprises, and these (for any thing I know) were good workes also: there haue been many new play-houses, and one faire Burse lately built; _Paris_-garden in a flourishing estate makes a great noyse still, and as I heare _Charing_ Crosse shall haue a new coat too: but in the meane time while so many monuments are raised, either to the honour of the dead, or else for the profit and pleasure of the lyuing: _Dic mihi musa virum_, I pray Muse and shew me the man, who ioynes with that euer zealous, reuerend, learned Deane in founding a Colledge for a Societie of writers against the superstitious Idolatries of the Romane Synagogue, the which happily might be like _the [ec]Tower of Dauid_, where the strong men of Israel might haue shieldes and targets to fight the Lords battaile: [ed]_Is it time for your selues to dwell in your seiled houses, and this house lye wast?_ [Sidenote eb: _In Psalm. 147._] [Sidenote ec: _Cant. 4. 4._] [Sidenote ed: _Haggai. 1. 4._] Remember I beseech you the words of [ee]_Azariah_ vnto King _Asa_ and the men of Iuda, _The Lord is with you while you are with him, and if yee seeke him, he will be found of you; but if yee forsake him, he will forsake you_. Benot cold in a good cause, flie not out of the field, play not the cowards in the Lords holie wars; for albeit happily your selues are like for your time to do wel enough in despite of the Diuell, and the Pope his darling: yet your posteritie will assuredly rue it, and haue iust cause to curse their dastardly, spiritlesse and worthlesse progenitors. I say no more concerning this point, only I pray with our forefathers in the first English Letany, set out in the dayes of King _Henry_ the 8. _from all sedition and priuie conspiracie, from the tyrannie of the Bishop of Rome, and all his detestable enormities, from all false doctrine and heresie, from hardnesse of heart, and contempt of thy word and commandement._ _Good Lord deliuer vs._ [Sidenote ee: _2. Chron. 15. 2._] Where note by the way, that the Popes abominable tyrannie is hedged in (as it were) on the one side with _sedition_ and _priuie conspiracy_, and on the other side with _false doctrine_ and _heresie_. I haue another prayer, and for as much as it is in Latine, I must entreat all such (if any such here be present, who loue _Bonauentures_ psalter and the Romish seruice) to ioyne with vs in this orison. _Papa noster qui es Romæ maledicetur nomen tuum, intereat regnum tuum, impediatur voluntas tua, sicut in Coelo sic et in terra. Potum nostrum in Coena dominica da nobis hodie, & remitte nummos nostros quos tibi dedimus ob indulgentias, sicut & nos remittimus tibi indulgentias, & ne nos inducas in hæresin, sed libera nos a miseria, quoniam tuum est infernum, pix & sulphur in secula seculorum._ The word of God is a [ef]two edged sword, sharp in a literal, and sharp in an allegoricall exposition. Hitherto you haue heard the history, now there remaineth a mistery, _nihil enim hic ludicrum aut lubricum_ saith [eg]_Augustine_, and therefore [eh]diuines vnderstand here by the _sounding of the trumpet_, the preaching of the Gospell, [ei]whose sound went out thorow all the earth vnto the endes of the world: at the seuenfold sounding of this trumpet the walles of [ek]Iericho fal, that is all the pompes and powers of this world are conquered & brought to nought, this trumpet is mightie thorough God to cast downe holdes, and Imaginations, and euery high thing that is exalted against the knowledge of God. 2. Cor. 10. 4. [Sidenote ef: _Heb. 4. 12._] [Sidenote eg: _In loc._] [Sidenote eh: _Prosper Luther Hugo Card._] [Sidenote ei: _Rom. 10. 18._] [Sidenote ek: _Iosua. 6. Strictior est tuba ex parte buccinantis quàm ex altera, quia prædicator strictius se debet examinare. Hugo Card. in loc._] [el]Other say that the Saints are these _trumpets_, and _harpes_, and _Cymbals_, and that their [em]members make this musicke to the Lord, our eyes praies the Lord, while they be [en]lifted vp vnto their maker in heauen, and waite vpon his mercy: our tongues praise the Lord, in singing [eo]Psalmes, and hymnes, and spirituall songs vnto the Lord: our eares praise the Lord, while they [ep]heare the word of God with attention: our hands praise the Lord, while they be [eq]stretched out vnto the poore, and while they [er]worke the thing that is good: our feete praise the Lord, when they bee not [es]swift to shed blood, but [et]stand in the gates of Gods house, ready to [eu]run the wayes of his commandements. _In Tympano sicca & percussa pellis resonat, in choro autem voces sociatæ concordant_ said [ex]_Gregorie_ the great: wherefore [ey]such as mortifie the lusts of the flesh praise God _in tympano_, and they who keepe the [ez]vnity of the spirit in the bond of peace, praise God _in choro_: the _Brownist_ in separating himselfe from the Church though he seeme to praise God _in tympano_, yet hee doth not praise God _in choro_: and the _carnall gospeller_ albeit he ioyne with the Church _in choro_, yet he prayseth not God _in tympano_; they praise God in _well tuned Cymbals_ who tune their soules before they preach or pray, whosoeuer desires to bee a sweete singer in Israel must bee learned in the schoole, before hee be lowd in the temple: the heart likewise must be prepared for praying, as the harpe for playing, if our instruments of praise be not in tune, then our whole deuotion is like _the [fa]sounding brasse or as the tinckling Cymbal_: in Gods quier there is first _tune well_, and then _sound well_, if once we can say with [fb]_Dauid_, _O God mine heart is ready, mine heart is ready_, then our lute and harpe will awake right early: let thy soule praise the Lord, and then all that is either without or about thee will instantly doe the same. [Sidenote el: _Augustin in loc._] [Sidenote em: _Chrysost. Euthym. in loc._] [Sidenote en: _Psalm. 123._] [Sidenote eo: _Colos. 3. 16._] [Sidenote ep: _Mat. 13. 9._] [Sidenote eq: _Ecclesi. 7. 32._] [Sidenote er: _Ephes. 4. 24._] [Sidenote es: _Psal. 14. 6._] [Sidenote et: _Psal. 122. 2._] [Sidenote eu: _Psal. 119. 32._] [Sidenote ex: _Pastoral. part. 3. admonit. 23._] [Sidenote ey: _August. Cassiod. Hugo. Card. in loc._] [Sidenote ez: _Ephes. 4. 3._] [Sidenote fa: _1. Cor. 13. 1._] [Sidenote fb: _Psalm. 108. 1._] _Let euery thing that hath breath praise the Lord_, that is [fc]_omne spirans_, [fd]_omnis spiritualis_, [fe]_omnis spiritus_, let euery creature praise the lord for his estate of confection, euery Christian praise the Lord for his estate of refection, euery blessed spirit loosed out of the worldes misery praise the Lord for his estate of perfection, let euery creature, man aboue all the Creatures, and the soule of man aboue all that is in man praise the Lord. _Omnis spiritus, i. [ff]totus spiritus_, [fg]all the heart, all the soule, all the mind, as the psalmist [fh]elsewhere, I will thanke thee O Lord my God with all mine heart, euen with my [fi]whole heart, or _omnis spiritus_ the spirit of euery man in euery place, for this saying is [fk]propheticall, insinuating that God in time to come, shall not only be worshipped of the Iewes at Ierusalem with outward ceremonies, _in the sound of the trumpet and vpon the lute and harpe_: but in all places, of all persons in spirit and truth as Christ expounds _Dauid_ in the 4. of Saint _Iohns_ Gospell at the 23. verse, whereas vnbeleeuing Iewes are the sonnes of _Abraham_ according to the flesh only, beleeuing Gentiles are the [fl]seed of _Abraham_ according to the spirit, and heires by promise, more Israel saith [fm]_Augustine_ then Israel it selfe. The sonnes of _Abraham_ (as Christ tels vs in the [fn]Gospell) are they who doe the workes of _Abraham_, and _Abrahams_ chiefe worke was faith, _Abraham_ beleeued (saith the [fo]text) and it was imputed to him for righteousnes. _Ergo_, the true beleeuer is a right Isralite, blessed with faithfull _Abraham_. Galat. 3. 9. [fp]some stretch this further, applying it not onely to the spirits of men in the Church militant, but also to the blessed Angels and Saints in the triumphant, for this Psalme consists of a threefold _apostrophe_. [Sidenote fc: _Agellius Vatablus_.] [Sidenote fd: _Hieron. August._] [Sidenote fe: _Genebrard & alij plerique._] [Sidenote ff: _Hugo. Iunius._] [Sidenote fg: _Luk. 10. 27._] [Sidenote fh: _Psal. 86. 12._] [Sidenote fi: _Psal. 111. 1._] [Sidenote fk: _Caluin. Genebrard. in loc._] [Sidenote fl: _Galat. 3. 29._] [Sidenote fm: _Psalm. 148._] [Sidenote fn: _Iohn 8. 39._] [Sidenote fo: _Gen. 15. 6. Rom. 4. 3._] [Sidenote fp: _Genebrard._] 1. _Dauid_ inuiteth all the Citizens of heauen, _O praise God in his sanctuarie, praise him in the firmament of his power_. 2. All the dwellers vpon earth, _praise him in the sound of the trumpet, praise him vpon the lute and harpe, &c._ 3. Both and all, _let euery thing that hath breath_, euery thing which hath either the life of nature, or of grace, or of glorie, let _euery spirit_ [fq]whether it be terrestriall or celestiall, of whatsoeuer condition, age, sexe, _praise the Lord_. [Sidenote fq: _Placidus parmensis & Bellarmin. in loc._] It is a [fr]_Rabbinical_ conceit that this hymne consists of 13. _Halleluiahs_, answering 13. Properties of God mentioned Exod. 34. 6.7. verses, and in that our Prophet after a dozen _Halleluiahs_ hath not done, but addeth a thirteenth, hee doth insinuate that when all our deuotion is finished, it is our dutie to begin againe with Gods praise, for as [fs]of him, and thorough him, and for him, are all things, euen so to him is due all glorie for euermore: as his mercies are from euerlasting to euerlasting, from euerlasting election, to euerlasting glorification: so likewise his praises are to bee sung for euer and euer. In this life we begin this hymne singing (as musitians speake) in _breifs_ and _semibriefs_ a staffe or two, but in the world to come standing before the throne of the Lambe, clothed in long white robes, accompanied with all the sweet voyces of heauens incomparable melodious quire: we shall eternally sing, [ft]_Holy, holy, holy, Lord God almightie, which was, and which is, and which is to come, [fu]praise, and glorie, and wisdome, and power, and might, be vnto our God for euermore._ Amen. [Sidenote fr: _Genebrard._] [Sidenote fs: _Rom. 11. 36._] [Sidenote ft: _Apocalip. 4. 8._] [Sidenote fu: _Apocalip. 7. 12._] FINIS. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * [Notes and Errata In the Latin words "Coelo" and "Coena", the letter combination "oe" was printed in single-letter (ligature) form, analogous to æ for ae. The titles "Mr." and "Dr." were printed with superscript r, properly transcribed M^{r}. and D^{r}. They have been simplified for readability. Years are always printed with following period (full stop), regardless of place in the sentence. Sidenotes--here equivalent to footnotes--were labeled sequentially a-z, repeating as often as necessary. For this e-text they have been given unique identifiers adding a, b, c... to successive series. Note that the 23-letter alphabet has no j, v or w. page 2 / leaf A2v Sidenote d: ...Turrecremat. _the name "Turrecremata" is better known in its Spanish form, "Torquemada"_ page 3 / leaf A3 for translating th{~e} out of this [q]valley of teares _{~e} represents "e" with overline (unique in this text)_ page 6 / leaf A4v Non martyres domini sed mancipes diaboli _text reads_ matyris page 8 / leaf A5v Sidenote bk: _Mark. 12. 36._ _citation unclear_ page 18 / leaf B2v But of all other noble preseruations, _Our deliuerance from..._ _text reads_ ...preseruations (_Our... page 21 / leaf B4 that bloody brood of the Gun-powder crue _text reads_ Gun-dowder the Churches of Saint _Albanes_ and _Arthuret_ "Arthuret" is a place name page 24 / leaf B5v _Let euery thing that hath breath praise the Lord_, that is [fc]_omne spirans_ _text reads_ ...the Lord_) that is... _Omnis spiritus, i. [ff]totus spiritus_ "i." _as in original: short for_ "intellege"? page 25 / leaf B6 Sidenote fq [simple "q" in original] _text has "p" for "q", but reference in body text is correct_] 
23096	----	_AND_ JUDAS ISCARIOT TOGETHER WITH OTHER EVANGELISTIC ADDRESSES BY J. WILBUR CHAPMAN HODDER & STOUGHTON NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY Copyright 1906 The Winona Publishing Company CONTENTS And Judas Iscariot An Old-Fashioned Home The Swelling of Jordan A Call to Judgment A Changed Life The Lost Opportunity A Great Victory Paul a Pattern of Prayer A Startling Statement The Grace of God Conversion Five Kings in a Cave Definiteness of Purpose in Christian Work The Morning Breaketh An Obscured Vision The Compassion of Jesus Sanctification An Unheeded Warning The Approval of the Spirit A Reasonable Service The True Christian Life INTRODUCTION The sermons contained in this volume are published in response to numerous requests that they might be put into permanent form. The author of these sermons needs no introduction to the Christian readers of America. His fame as an author, preacher and evangelist is more than national. As Director of the evangelistic work carried on by the General Assembly's Committee of the Presbyterian Church, he has achieved distinction as a preacher of the Gospel. Under his direction simultaneous evangelistic campaigns have been held in many of the leading cities of the land, and the Christian Church and the world have had an experience of a new, aggressive and emphatic evangelism that has stirred the Church, revived Christian service and been the means under God of turning thousands to a life of allegiance to Jesus Christ. Therefore it is a privilege and pleasure to put into book form some of the sermons which Dr. Chapman has preached in his evangelistic work and also as the Director of the Interdenominational Bible Conference at Winona Lake, Indiana. Thousands have borne witness to the profound impression and enduring influence of those messages. Especially is this true of "And Judas Iscariot" and "An Old-Fashioned Home." One can never forget the scene when the latter sermon was preached on Thanksgiving Day, 1905, in the great theater in Jersey City. Great numbers of men have confessed their sins and accepted Jesus Christ as a personal Savior following the preaching of "The Swelling of Jordan." The book is sent forth with devout gratitude to God for his blessing upon the preaching of these sermons, and with a prayer that even the reading of them may be attended with deeper devotion to Jesus Christ, and increasing service to those for whom Christ died. PARLEY E. ZARTMANN. AND JUDAS ISCARIOT AND JUDAS ISCARIOT TEXT: "_And Judas Iscariot._"--Mark 3:19. There is something about the name of this miserable man which commands our attention at once. There is a sort of fascination about his wickedness, and when we read his story it is difficult to give it up until we have come to its awful end. It is rather significant, it would seem to me, that his name should come last in the list of the Apostles, and the text, "And Judas Iscariot," would suggest to me not only that his name was last, but that it was there for some special reason, as I am sure we shall find out that it was. It is also significant that the first name mentioned in the list of the Apostles in this third chapter of Mark was Simon, who was surnamed Peter. The first mentioned Apostle denied Jesus with an oath, the one last referred to sold him for thirty pieces of silver and has gone into eternity with the awful sin of murder charged against him. The difference between the two is this: their sins were almost equally great, but the first repented and the grace of God had its perfect work in him and he was the object of Christ's forgiveness; the second was filled with remorse without repentance and grace was rejected. The first became one of the mightiest preachers in the world's history; the second fills us with horror whenever we read the story of his awful crime. Different names affect us differently. One could not well think of John without being impressed with the power of love; nor could one consider Paul without being impressed first of all with his zeal and then with his learning. Certainly one could not study Peter without saying that his strongest characteristic was his enthusiasm. It is helpful to know that the Spirit of God working with one who was a giant intellectually and with one who was profane and ignorant accomplished practically the same results, making them both, Paul and Peter, mighty men whose ministry has made the world richer and better in every way. But to think of Judas is always to shudder. There is a kindred text in this same Gospel of Mark, but the emotions it stirs are entirely different. The second text is, "And Peter." The crucifixion is over, the Savior is in the tomb, poor Peter, a broken-hearted man, is wandering through the streets of the City of the King. He is at last driven to the company of the disciples, when suddenly there rushes in upon them the woman who had been at the tomb, and she exclaims, "He is risen, has gone over into Galilee and wants his disciples to meet him." This was the angel's message to her. All the disciples must have hurried to the door that they might hasten to see their risen Lord--all save Peter. And then came the pathetic and thrilling text, for the woman gave the message as Jesus gave it to the angels and they to her, "Go tell his disciples--_and Peter_." But this text, "And Judas Iscariot," brings to our recollection the story of a man who lost his opportunity to be good and great; the picture of one who was heartless in his betrayal, for within sight of the Garden of Gethsemane he saluted Jesus with a hypocritical kiss; the recollection of one in whose ears to-day in eternity there must be heard the clinking sound of the thirty pieces of silver; and the account of one who died a horrible death, all because sin had its way with him and the grace of God was rejected. The scene connected with his calling is significant. Mark tells us in the third chapter of his Gospel that when Jesus saw the man with the withered hand and healed him, he went out by the seaside and then upon the mountain, and there called his Apostles round about him, gave them their commission and sent them forth to do his bidding. In Matthew the ninth chapter and the thirty-sixth to the thirty-eighth verses, we are told that when he saw the multitudes he was moved with compassion, and he commissioned the twelve and sent them forth that they might serve as shepherds to the people who appeared to be shepherdless. "Then saith he unto his disciples, The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few; pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth laborers into his harvest." And then he sent the twelve forth. As a matter of fact the Scriptures concerning Judas are not so very full, but there is a good outline, and if one but takes the points presented and allows his imagination to work in the least, there is a story which is thrilling in its awfulness. The four Evangelists tell us of his call, and these are practically identical in their statement except concerning his names. Matthew and Mark call him the Betrayer; Luke speaks of him as a Traitor, while John calls him a Devil. The next thing we learn concerning him is his rebuke of the woman who came to render her service to Jesus as a proof of her affection. In John the twelfth chapter, the fourth to the sixth verse, we read, "Then saith one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, which should betray him, Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor? This he said, not that he cared for the poor, but because he was a thief, and had the bag, and bare what was put therein." Next we hear of him bargaining with the enemies of Jesus for his betrayal. The account is very full in Matthew, the twenty-sixth chapter the fourteenth to the sixteenth verse. "Then one of the twelve called Judas Iscariot, went unto the chief priests, and said unto them, What will ye give me, and I will deliver him unto you? And they covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver. And from that time he sought opportunity to betray him." Then we are told of his delivering Jesus into the hands of his enemies, in Matthew, the twenty-sixth chapter, the forty-seventh to the forty-ninth verses: "And while he yet spake, lo, Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with him a great multitude, with swords and staves, from the chief priests and elders of the people. Now he that betrayed him gave them a sign, saying, Whomsoever I shall kiss, that same is he: hold him fast. And forthwith he came to Jesus, and said, Hail, Master; and kissed him." And then finally comes his dreadful end, the account of his remorse in Matthew, the twenty-seventh chapter, the third and the fourth verses. "Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders, saying, I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood. And they said, What is that to us? see thou to that." And the statement of his suicide in Matthew, the twenty-seventh chapter, the fifth verse, "And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself." I The natural question that comes to every student of the life of Judas must be, "Why was he chosen?" but as Joseph Parker has said, "We may well ask why were we chosen ourselves, knowing our hearts as we do and appreciating our weakness as we must." It has been said that if we study the Apostles we will find them representatives of all kinds of human nature, which would go to show that if we but yield ourselves to God, whatever we may be naturally, he can use us for his glory. It was here that Judas failed. I have heard it said that Jesus did not know Judas' real character and that he was surprised when Judas turned out to be the disciple that he was; but let us have none of this spirit in the consideration of Jesus Christ. Let no man in these days limit Jesus' knowledge, for he is omniscient and knoweth all things. Let us not forget what he said himself concerning Judas in John the thirteenth chapter and the eighteenth verse, "I speak not of you all; I know whom I have chosen; but that the Scripture may be fulfilled, He that eateth bread with me hath lifted up his heel against me." Again, in the sixth chapter and the seventieth verse, "Jesus answered them. Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil?" and finally, in the sixth chapter and the sixty-fourth verse, "But there are some of you that believe not. For Jesus knew from the beginning who they were that believed not, and who should betray him." There were others who might have been chosen in his stead. The Apostles found two when in their haste they determined to fill the vacancy made by his betrayal. Acts 1:23-26, "And they appointed two, Joseph called Barsabas, who was surnamed Justus, and Matthias. And they prayed, and said, Thou, Lord, which knowest the hearts of all men, shew whether of these two thou hast chosen, that he may take part of this ministry and apostleship, from which Judas by transgression fell, that he might go to his own place. And they gave forth their lots; and the lot fell upon Matthias, and he was numbered with the eleven apostles." It seems to me that there can be no reason for his having been called of Christ except that he was to serve as a great warning to those of us who have lived since his day. There are many such warnings in the Scriptures. Jonah was one. God said to him, "Go to Nineveh," and yet, with the spirit of rebellion, he attempted to sail to Tarshish and we know his miserable failure. Let it never be forgotten that if Nineveh is God's choice for you, you can make no other port in safety. The sea will be against you, the wind against you. It is hard indeed to struggle against God. Jacob was a warning. Deceiving his own father, his sons in turn deceived him. May we never forget the Scripture which declares, "Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap." Esau was a warning. Coming in from the hunt one day, weary with his exertions, he detects the savory smell of the mess of pottage, and his crafty brother says, "I will give you this for your birthright," which was his right to be a priest in his household; a moment more and the birthright is gone; and in the New Testament we are told he sought it with tears and could find no place of repentance. But many a man has sold his right to be the priest of his household for less than a mess of pottage, and in a real sense it is true that things done cannot be undone. Saul was a warning. He was commanded to put to death Agag and the flock, and he kept the best of all the flock and then lied to God's messenger when he said that the work had been done as he was commanded. He had no sooner said it than, behold, there was heard the bleating of the sheep, and the lowing of the oxen. "Be sure your sin will find you out." The New Testament has many warnings like these in the Old, but Judas surpasses them all. There is something about him that makes us shudder. It is said that in Oberammergau, where the Passion Play is presented, the man taking the character of Judas is always avoided afterwards. He may have been ever so reputable a citizen, but he has been at least in action a Judas, and that is enough. I was once a pastor at Schuylerville, N. Y., where on the Burgoyne surrender ground stands a celebrated monument. It is beautiful to look upon. On one side of it in a niche is General Schuyler, and on the other side, if I remember correctly, General Gates; on the third, in the same sort of a niche, another distinguished general is to be seen, but on the fourth the niche is vacant. When I asked the reason I was told that "It is the niche which might have been filled by Benedict Arnold had he not been a traitor." The story of Judas is like this. He might have been all that God could have approved of; he is throughout eternity a murderer, and all because grace was rejected. Numerous lessons may be drawn from such a story. Certain things might be said concerning hypocrisy, for he was in the truest sense a hypocrite. Reference could be made to the fact that sin is small in its beginnings, sure in its progress, terrific in its ending, for at the beginning he was doubtless but an average man in sin, possibly not so different from the others; but he rejected the influence of Christ. Or, again, from such a character a thrilling story could be told of the end of transgressors, for hard as may be the way the end baffles description. Judas certainly tells us this. II However much of a warning Judas may be to people of the world, I am fully persuaded that there are four things which may be said concerning him. First: He gives us a lesson as Christians. There were many names given him. In Matthew the tenth chapter and the fourth verse, and in Mark the third chapter and the nineteenth verse, we read that he was a betrayer; in Luke the sixth chapter and the sixteenth verse he was called a traitor; in John the sixth chapter and the seventieth verse he is spoken of as a devil, but in John the twelveth chapter and the sixth verse he is mentioned as a thief. To me however one of the best names that could be applied to him is that which Paul feared might be given to him when he said, "Lest when I have preached to others I myself should be [literally] disapproved" (1 Corinthians 9:27). It is indeed a solemn thought, that if we are not right with God he will set us aside, for he cannot use us. I have in mind a minister, who once thrilled great numbers of people with his message. Under the power of his preaching hundreds of people came to Christ. There was possibly no one in the Church with a brighter future. To-day he is set aside, for God cannot use him. I have in mind a Sunday school superintendent, who used to be on every platform speaking for Christ, and then yielded to undue political influence of the worst sort, lost his vision of Christ and his power in speaking, and to-day is set aside. But of all the illustrations, I know of nothing which so stirs me as the story of Judas. He might have been true and faithful and he might have been with Christ to-day in glory; instead, he is in hell, a self-confessed murderer, with the clinking of the thirty pieces of silver to condemn him, and his awful conscience constantly to accuse him. It is indeed enough to make our faces pale to realize that, whatever we may be to-day in the service of God, we can be set aside in less than a week, and God will cease to use us if we have anything of the spirit of Judas. Second: I learn also from Judas that environment is not enough for the unregenerate. It is folly to state that a poor lost sinner simply by changing his environment may have his nature changed. As John G. Woolley has said, "it is like a man with a stubborn horse saying, 'I will paint the outside of the barn a nice mild color to influence the horse within.'" The well on my place in the country some years ago had in it poisoned water. It was an attractive well with a house built around about it, and the neighbors came to me to say that I must under no circumstances drink from it. What if I had said, "I will decorate the well house that I may change the water?" It would have been as nonsensical as to say, "I will change the environment of a man who is wicked by nature, and thereby make him good." Judas had lived close to Jesus, he had been with him on the mountain, walked with him by the sea, was frequently with him, I am sure, in Gethsemane, for we read in John the eighteenth chapter and the second verse, "And Judas also, which betrayed him, knew the place: for Jesus ofttimes resorted thither with his disciples." He was also with him at the Supper. But after all this uplifting, heavenly influence of the Son of God he sold him for silver and betrayed him with a kiss. Nothing can answer for the sinner but regeneration. His case is hopeless without that. Third: Hypocrisy is an awful thing. The text in Galatians is for all such. "Be not deceived; God is not mocked." Those words in Matthew in connection with the sermon on the Mount are for such, when men in the great day shall say, "Have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out Devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?" Jesus will say, "I never knew you." If we read the commission in Matthew the tenth chapter the fifth to the twentieth verses inclusive, we shall understand that these Apostles were sent forth to do a mighty work, and evidently they did it. Judas had that commission, and he may have fulfilled it in a sense, but he is lost to-day because he was a hypocrite. The disciples may not have known his true nature. In John the thirteenth chapter the twenty-first to the twenty-ninth verses we read, "When Jesus had thus said, he was troubled in spirit, and testified and said, Verily, verily, I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me. Then the disciples looked one on another, doubting of whom he spake. Now there was leaning on Jesus' bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved. Simon Peter therefore beckoned to him, that he should ask who it should be of whom he spake. He then lying on Jesus' breast saith unto him, Lord, who is it? Jesus answered, He it is to whom I shall give a sop when I have dipped it. And when he had dipped the sop, he gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon. And after the sop Satan entered into him. Then said Jesus unto him, That thou doest, do quickly. Now no man at the table knew for what intent he spake this unto him. For some of them thought, because Judas had the bag, that Jesus had said unto him, Buy those things that we have need of against the feast; or that he should give something to the poor." Which would seem to impress this thought upon us. Oh, may I say that it is a great sin to be untrue? The only time that Jesus is severe is not when sinners seek him out, nor when the woman taken in adultery is driven to him by those who would stone her with stones, nor with the thief on the Cross, but when he faces hypocrites; he can have no tenderness for them. Fourth: I learn from Judas that sin is of slow progress. There may have been first just a natural ambition. He thought that the Kingdom of Jesus was to be a great temporal affair, and he desired to be a part of it. How many men to-day have wrecked their homes and all but lost their souls, because of unholy ambitions! It may be an ambition for your family as well as for yourself. Doubtless Jacob had such when he stopped at Shechem. The result of his tarrying was his heart-breaking experience with the worse than murder of his daughter. There are souls to-day in the lost world who were wrecked upon the rock of ambition. Fifth: He was dishonest. It is a short journey from unholy ambition to dishonesty. The spirit of God Himself calls him a thief. But, Sixth: Let it be known that while sin is of slow progress, it is exceedingly sure. In the twenty-second chapter of Luke and the third to the sixth verses we read that Satan entered into Judas. It seems to me as if up to that time he had rather hovered about him, tempting him with his insinuations, possibly causing him to slip and fall in occasional sins, but finally he has control and then betrayal, denial and murder are the results. I looked the other day into the face of a man who said to me, "Do you know me?" and I told him I did not, and he said, "I used to be a Christian worker and influenced thousands to come to Christ. In an unguarded moment I determined to leave my ministry and to become rich. My haste for riches was but a snare. I found myself becoming unscrupulous in my business life and now I am wrecked, certainly for time--oh," said he, "can it be for eternity? I am separated from my wife and my children, whom I shall never see again." And rising in an agony he cried out as I have rarely heard a man cry, "God have mercy upon me! God have mercy upon me!" III There are but three things that I would like to say concerning Judas as I come to the end of my message. The first is that he was heartless in the extreme. It was just after a touching scene recorded in Matthew the twenty-sixth chapter the seventh to the thirteenth verses, "There came unto him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on his head, as he sat at meat. But when his disciples saw it, they had indignation, saying, To what purpose is this waste? For this ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor. When Jesus understood it, he said unto them, Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me. For ye have the poor always with you; but me ye have not always. For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her." It was after this that Judas went to the enemies of Jesus and offered to sell him, and as if that were not enough, it was just after he had left Gethsemane, in Matthew the twenty-sixth chapter the forty-fifth to the forty-ninth verses, that he betrayed him with his kiss. "Then cometh he to his disciples and saith unto them, Sleep on now, and take your rest; behold, the hour is at hand, and the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us be going: behold, he is at hand that doth betray me. And while he yet spake, lo, Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with him a great multitude, with swords and staves, from the chief priests and elders of the people. Now he that betrayed him gave them a sign, saying, Whomsoever I shall kiss, that same is he: hold him fast. And forthwith he came to Jesus, and said, Hail, Master; and kissed him." The blood drops had just been rolling down the cheeks of the Master, for he sweat, as it were, great drops of blood; and I can quite understand how upon the very lips of Judas the condemning blood may have left its mark. But do not condemn him; he is scarcely more heartless than the man who to-day rejects him after all his gracious ministry, his sacrificial death and his mediatorial work of nineteen hundred years. Second: His death was awful. Acts 1:18, "Now this man purchased a field with the reward of iniquity; and falling headlong, he burst asunder in the midst, and all his bowels gushed out." I can imagine him going out to the place where he is to end it all, remembering as he walked how Jesus had looked at him, recalling, doubtless, some of his spoken messages, and certainly remembering how once he had been with him in all his unfaithful ministry. All this must have swept before him like a great panorama, and with the vision of his betrayed Master still before him he swings himself out into the eternity; and then as if to make the end more terrible the rope broke and his body burst and his very bowels gushed forth. Oh, if it be true that the _way_ of the transgressor is hard, in the name of God what shall we say of the end? Third: I would like to imagine another picture. What if instead of going out to the scene of his disgraceful death he had waited until after Jesus had risen? What if he had tarried behind some one of those great trees near the city along the way which he should walk, or, possibly on the Emmaus way? What if he had hidden behind some great rock and simply waited? While it is true that he must have trembled as he waited, what if after it all he had simply thrown himself on the mercy of Jesus and had said to him, "Master, I have from the first been untrue; for thirty pieces of silver I sold thee and with these lips I betrayed thee with a kiss; but Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy upon me"? There would have been written in the New Testament Scriptures the most beautiful story that the inspired book contains. Nothing could have been so wonderful as the spirit of him who is able to save to the uttermost, and who never turned away from any seeking sinner, and he would, I am sure, have taken Judas in his very arms; he, too, might have given him a kiss, not of betrayal, but of the sign of his complete forgiveness, and Judas might have shone to-day in the city of God as shines Joseph of Arimathaea, Paul the Apostle, Peter the Preacher. The saddest story I know is the story of Judas, for it is the account of a man who resisted the grace of God and must regret it through eternity. AN OLD-FASHIONED HOME TEXT: "_What have they seen in thy house?_"--2 Kings 20:15. If you will tell me what is in your own house by your own choice I will tell you the story of your home life and will be able to inform you whether yours is a home in which there is harmony and peace or confusion and despair. Let me read the names of the guests in your guest book, allow me to study the titles of the books in your library in which you have special delight, permit me to scan your magazines which you particularly like, allow me to listen to your conversation when you do not know that you are being overheard, give me the privilege of talking but for a moment to your servants, and make it possible for me to visit with your friends in whom you have particular delight--and I will write a true story of what you have been, of what you are, and of what you will be but for the grace of God, even though I may not know you personally at all. In other words, whatever may be seen in your home determines what your home is. I was a man grown before I visited Washington, the capital of the nation. I was the guest of a member of the President's Cabinet. Riding with him the first evening, when the moon was shining, we suddenly came upon the National Capitol, and I said to my host, "What in the world is that?" He said, with a smile, as if he pitied me, "That is the Capitol building, and that is the home of the nation." I am sure he was right in a sense, because the building is magnificent, and is in every way the worthy home of such a nation as ours; but I think I take issue with him, after careful thought, in his statement that the Capitol building is the home of the nation. I can recall a visit made to a home which was not in any sense palatial, where the old-fashioned father every morning and evening read his Bible, knelt in prayer with his household about him, commended to God his children each by name, presented the servants at the throne of grace, and then sang with them all one of the sweet hymns of the church; and from the morning prayer they went forth to the day of victory, while from the evening prayer they went to sleep the undisturbed sleep of the just, with the angels of heaven keeping watch over them. I recall another home in the State of Ohio where the father and mother were scarcely known outside of their own county. The size of their farm was ten acres, but they reared two boys and two girls whose mission has been world-wide and whose names are known wherever the church of Christ is known and wherever the English language is spoken. These, in the truest sense, are the homes of the nation, and such homes give us men and women as true as steel. Napoleon once was asked, "What is the greatest need of the French nation?" He hesitated a moment and then said, with marked emphasis, "The greatest need of the French nation is mothers." If you will ask me the greatest need of America I could wish in my reply that I might speak with the power of a Napoleon and that my words might live as long, for I would say, the greatest need of the American nation to-day is homes; not palatial buildings, but homes where Christ is honored, where God is loved, and where the Bible is studied. A returned missionary, who had been for twenty-five years away from his home because he would not accept his furloughs, was asked after he had been in California for a little season what impressed him the most after his absence of a quarter of a century. The reporter expected him to say that he was impressed with the telephone system which bound houses and cities together, or that he was amazed at the wireless telegraphy, by means of which on the wave currents of the air messages were sent from one city to another; but the returned missionary expressed no such surprise. He said, "When I went away from America almost every home had its family altar; now that I have returned I have watched very carefully and find that a family altar in a home is the exception and not the rule." Wherever this is true there is real cause for great alarm, for in proportion as the home fails the nation is in danger. Hezekiah had been sick unto death. The word of the Lord by the mouth of the Prophet came to him, saying, "Set thy house in order, for thou must die." Then he recovered for a season. The King of Babylon sent messengers to him, and when the messengers had gone Isaiah asked him the question of the text, "What have they seen in thy house?" The dearest and most sacred spot on earth is home. Around it are the most sacred associations, about it cluster the sweetest memories. The buildings are not always palatial, the furnishings are not always of the best, but when the home is worthy of the name ladders are let down from heaven to those below, the angels of God come down, bringing heaven's blessing and ascend, taking earth's crosses. Such a home is the dearest spot on earth, because there your father worked and your mother loved. There is no love which surpasses this. Some years ago, when the English soldiers were fighting and a Scotch regiment came to assist, the Scotchmen, strangely enough, began to die in great numbers. The skill of the physicians was baffled. They could not tell why it was that there seemed to be such a rapid falling away of the men. But at last they discovered the cause. The Scotch pipers were playing the tunes that reminded the Scotchman of the heather and the hills, and they were dying of homesickness. When the music was changed the deaths in such large numbers almost instantly ceased. We are drifting away from our old-fashioned homes; fathers have grown too busy, mothers have delegated their God-given work to others. We have lost instead of gained. Wherever the homes are full of weakness the government is in danger. The homes of our country are so many streams pouring themselves into the great current of moral and social life. If the home life is pure, then all is pure. I stand with that company of people today who believe that we are at the beginning of a great revival of religion, and I am persuaded that this revival is to be helped on not so much by preaching, though that is not to be ignored; nor by singing, though that in itself is useful; but it is to be helped or hindered by the condition of the homes in our land. I I have a friend, George R. Stuart, who says that when God himself would start a nation he made home life the deciding question. He selected Abraham as the head of the home, and in Genesis, the eighteenth chapter and the nineteenth verse, he gives the reason for this in these words: "For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him." There are two great principles which must prevail in every home: First: _Authority_, suggested by the word "command." Second: _Example_, suggested by the expression, "He will command his children and his household after him." In order that one may rightly command he must himself be controlled or be able to obey an authority higher than his own. It is absolutely impossible for one to be the father he ought to be and not be a Christian, or to be worthy of the name of mother and not yield allegiance to Jesus Christ. If we are to set before those about us a right example, we cannot begin too soon. Your children are a reproduction of yourself, weakness in them is weakness in yourself, strength in them is but the reproduction of your own virtue. A convention of mothers met some years ago in the city of Cincinnati and was discussing the question as to when one ought properly to begin to train the child for Christ. One mother said, "I begin at six"; another suggested seven as the proper age; another said, "I begin when my child takes his first step, and thus point him to Christ, or when he speaks his first word I teach him the name of Jesus." Finally an old saint arose and said, "You are all of you wrong; the time to begin to train the child is the generation before the child is born," and this we all know to be true. But the responsibility does not rest simply upon mothers; fathers cannot ignore their God-given position. Judge Alton B. Parker and his favorite grandson, Alton Parker Hall, five years old, narrowly escaped death by drowning in the Hudson River. For half an hour the two played in the water. Then Judge Parker took the boy for a swim into deep water. Placing the boy on his back, he swam around for awhile, and then, deciding to float, turned over, seating the boy astride his chest. In this manner the judge floated a distance from the wharf before noticing it. Then he attempted to turn over again, intending to swim nearer the shore. In the effort to transfer the boy to his back the little fellow became frightened and tightly clasped the judge about the neck. Judge Parker called to the boy to let go his hold, but the youth only held on the tighter, and, frightened at the evident distress of the judge, began to whimper. In a few moments the grasp of the boy became so tight that Judge Parker could not breathe. He tried to shake the boy loose, and then attempted to break his grasp. The boy held on with the desperation of death, however, and every effort of the judge only plunged them both beneath the choking waves. With his last few remaining breaths, Judge Parker gave up the struggle and shouted for assistance. The mistake that the distinguished man made was that he went too far from shore with the boy. There are too many men to-day who are doing the same thing. They are going out too far in social life, they are too lax in the question of amusements, they are too thoughtless on the subject of dissipation. Some day they will stop, themselves recovering, but their boys will be gone. Example counts for everything in a home. It there is any blessing in my own life or others, if there has been any helpfulness in my ministry to others, I owe it all to my mother, who lived before me a consistent Christian life and died giving me her blessing; and to my father, who with his arms about me one day said, "My son, if you go wrong it will kill me." I was at one time under the influence of a boy older than myself and cursed with too much money. I had taken my first questionable step at least, and was on my way one night to a place which was at least questionable if not sinful. I had turned the street corner and ahead of me was the very gate to hell. Suddenly, as I turned, the face of my father came before me and his words rang in my very soul. If my father had been anything but a consistent Christian man I myself, I am sure, would have been far from the pulpit, and might have been in the lost world. There are those who seem to think that the height of one's ambition is to amass a fortune, to build a palace or to acquire a social position. My friend, George R. Stuart, says you may build your palaces, amass your fortunes, provide for the satisfaction of every desire, but as you sit amid these luxurious surroundings waiting for the staggering steps of a son, or as you think of a wayward daughter, all this will be as nothing, for there is nothing that can give happiness to the parents of Godless, wayward children. Some one has said, "Every drunkard, every gambler, every lost woman once sat in a mother's lap, and the downfall of the most of them may be traced to some defect in home life." The real purpose of every home is to shape character for time and eternity. The home may be one of poverty, the cross of self-sacrifice may be required, suffering may sometimes be necessary, but wherever a home fulfills this purpose it is overflowing with joy. One of my friends has drawn the following picture which he says is fanciful, but which I think is absolutely true to life: Back in the country there is a boy who wants to go to a college and get an education. They call him a book-worm. Wherever they find him--in the barn or in the house--he is reading a book. "What a pity it is," they say, "that Ed cannot get an education!" His father, work as hard as he will, can no more than support the family by the products of the farm. One night Ed has retired to his room and there is a family conference about him. The sisters say, "Father, I wish you would send Ed to college; if you will we will work harder than we ever did, and we will make our old dresses do." The mother says, "Yes, I will get along without any hired help; although I am not as strong as I used to be, I think I can get along without any hired help." The father says, "Well, I think by husking corn nights in the barn I can get along without any assistance." Sugar is banished from the table, butter is banished from the plate. That family is put down on rigid, yea, suffering, economy that the boy may go to college. Time passes on. Commencement day has come and the professors walk in on the stage in their long gowns and their classic but absurd hats. The interest of the occasion is passing on, and after a while it comes to a climax of interest as the valedictorian is introduced. Ed has studied so hard and worked so well that he has had the honor conferred upon him. There are rounds of applause, sometimes breaking into vociferation. It is a great day for Ed. But away back in the galleries are his sisters in their old plain hats and faded clothes, and the old-fashioned father and mother; dear me, she has not had a new hat for six years; he has not had a new coat for a longer time. They rise and look over on the platform, then they laugh and they cry, and as they sit down, their faces grow pale, and then are very flushed. Ed gets the garlands and the old-fashioned group in the gallery have their full share of the triumph. They have made that scene possible, and in the day that God shall more fully reward self-sacrifice made for others, he will give grand and glorious recognition. "As his part is that goeth down to battle, so shall his part be that tarrieth by the stuff." This experience describes a home in the truest sense of the word better than all the palaces the world has ever known where love is lacking and the spirit of God is gone. II There are two great forces in every home. I speak of the father and the mother, not but that the children have their part in either making or breaking a household, but these two are the mightiest of agencies. The mother stands first. There are certain things which must be true of every mother. She must be a Christian. The father may fail if he must, but let the mother fail and God pity the children. She must be consistent. The children may forget the inconsistencies of the father but when the mother fails the impression is lasting as time and almost as lasting as eternity. She must be prayerful. I do not know of anything that lifts so many burdens or puts upon the face such a look of beauty as the spirit of prayer. And she must study her Bible. When we pray we talk with God, but when we read the Bible God talks with us and every mother needs his counsel. A poor young man stood before a judge in a great court to be sentenced to death. When asked if he had anything to say, he bowed his head and said, "Oh, your honor, if I had only had a mother!" A mother's love is unfailing. When I was in Atlanta, Georgia, in October, 1904, a little girl and an old mother came to see the governor. They had met on the train, and the child agreed to take the old lady to see the governor of the State. They entered the governor's office and she spoke as follows: "I want to see the governor," was the straightforward request of the little lady addressed to Major Irwin, the private secretary to the governor, as he inquired her errand. "That is the governor standing there. He will see you in a moment," replied the major, indicating Governor Terrell standing in the group. The governor went over to her. "What can I do for you, dear?" he asked. Throwing back her curls she opened wide her baby brown eyes and said: "Governor, it is not for me; it is for this old lady. Her name is Mrs. Hackett, and she wants to talk to you about pardoning her boy." This was said by a little lady of eleven, who spoke with all the grace and _savoir-faire_ of a woman twice her age. In a voice choked with emotion, Mrs. Hackett began her tearful, scarcely audible story and presented her petition for clemency for her boy. "Governor, have mercy on me," she began, and threw back her bonnet, showing a face wrinkled by age and furrowed and drawn by suffering, "and give me back my boy." Breaking down under the strain of talking to the governor, whom she had planned for months to see, the pleading mother gave way to her grief. The governor was visibly moved, and continued to stroke the curly hair of Mrs. Hackett's little guide. "Give me back my boy. I am an old woman, going on seventy-nine, and I cannot be here long. I know I am standing with one foot in the grave, and I do want to hear my boy, my baby, say to me, 'Ma, I'm free.' Let me go down on my knees to you and beg that you have mercy on a mother's breaking heart. During the last month I picked five hundred pounds of cotton and made two dollars to get here to see you. I got here without a cent, and this little angel gave me a dollar--her all. I don't care if I have to walk back home, for I've seen you and told you of my boy." With unsteady voice the governor told her the law, and referred her gently to the prison commission, assuring her that they would give her petition the most considerate attention. I am told that when the books were examined the crime was found to be one of the blackest on the calendar, and yet the mother loved him. Her love always stimulates love. It lasts when everything else fails. A man cannot wander so far from God as to forget his mother, or go so deep in sin as to be unmindful of her sweet influence. The following is a sketch, full of touching interest, of a little ragged newsboy who had lost his mother. In the tenderness of his affection for her he was determined that he would raise a stone to her memory. His mother and he had kept house together and they had been all to each other, but now she was taken, and the little fellow's loss was irreparable. Getting a stone was no easy task, for his earnings were small; but love is strong. Going to a cutter's yard and finding that even the cheaper class of stones was far too expensive for him, he at length fixed upon a broken shaft of marble, part of the remains of an accident in the yard, and which the proprietor kindly named at such a low figure that it came within his means. There was much yet to be done, but the brave little chap was equal to it. The next day he conveyed the stone away on a little four-wheeled cart, and managed to have it put in position. The narrator, curious to know the last of the stone, visited the cemetery one afternoon, and he thus describes what he saw and learned: "Here it is," said the man in charge, and, sure enough, there was our monument, at the head of one of the newer graves. I knew it at once. Just as it was when it left our yard, I was going to say, until I got a little nearer to it and saw what the little chap had done. I tell you, boys, when I saw it there was something blurred my eyes, so's I couldn't read it at first. The little man had tried to keep the lines straight, and evidently thought that capitals would make it look better and bigger, for nearly every letter was a capital. I copied it, and here it is; but you want to see it on the stone to appreciate it: MY MOTHER SHEE DIED LAST WEAK SHEE WAS ALL I HAD. SHEE SED SHEAD BEE WAITING FUR-- and here the boy's lettering stopped. After awhile I went back to the man in charge and asked him what further he knew of the little fellow who brought the stone. "Not much," he said; "not much. Didn't you notice a fresh little grave near the one with the stone? Well, that's where he is. He came here every afternoon for some time working away at that stone, and one day I missed him, and then for several days. Then the man came out from the church that had buried the mother and ordered the grave dug by her side. I asked if it was for the little chap. He said it was. The boy had sold all his papers one day, and was hurrying along the street out this way. There was a runaway team just above the crossing, and--well--he was run over, and lived but a day or two." He had in his hand when he was picked up an old file sharpened down to a point, that he did all the lettering with. They said he seemed to be thinking only of that until he died, for he kept saying, "I didn't get it done, but she'll know I meant to finish it, won't she? I'll tell her so, for she'll be waiting for me," and he died with those words on his lips. When the men in the cutter's yard heard the story of the boy the next day, they clubbed together, got a good stone, inscribed upon it the name of the newsboy, which they succeeded in getting from the superintendent of the Sunday school which the little fellow attended, and underneath it the touching words: "He loved his mother." God pity the mother with such an influence as this if she is leading in the wrong direction! It is necessary also to say just a word about the father. There are many pictures of fathers in the Bible. Jacob gives us one when he cries, "Me ye have bereft of my children." David gives another when he cries, "O Absalom, my son." The father of the Prodigal adds a new touch of beauty to the picture when he calls for the best robe to be put upon his boy. I allow no one to go beyond me in paying tribute to a mother's love, but I desire in some special way to pay tribute to the devotion and consistency of a father. There are special requisites which must be made without which no father can maintain his God-given position. He must be a Christian. I rode along a country road with my little boy some time ago. I found that he was speaking to my friends just as I spoke to them. One man called my attention to it and said, "It is amusing, isn't it?" To me it was anything but amusing. If my boy is to speak as I speak, walk as I walk, then God help me to walk as a Christian. He must be a man of prayer. No man can bear the burdens of life or meet its responsibilities properly if he is a stranger to prayer. He must be a man of Bible study. One of the most priceless treasures I have is a Bible my father studied, the pages of which he turned over and over, and which I never used to read without a great heart throb. "I con its pages o'er and o'er; Its interlinings mark a score Of promises most potent, sweet, In verses many of each sheet; Albeit the gilding dull of age, And yellow-hued its every page, No book more precious e'er may be Than father's Bible is to me. "Its tear-stained trace fresh stirs my heart The corresponding tear to start; Of trials, troubles herein brought, For comfort never vainly sought, For help in sorest hour of need, For love to crown the daily deed, No book more precious e'er may be Than father's Bible is to me." He must also erect in his house a family altar. I know that many business men will say this is impossible, but it is not impossible. If your business prevents your praying with your children, then there must be something wrong with your business. If your life prevents it, then you ought to see to it that your life is made right and that quickly. My friend, George R. Stuart, one of the truest men I know, gave me the following picture of a Christian home. He said: "When I was preaching in Nashville, at the conclusion of my sermon a Methodist preacher came up and laid his hand upon my shoulder and said, 'Brother Stuart, how your sermon to-day carried me back to my home! My father was a local preacher, and the best man I ever saw. He is gone to heaven now. We have a large family; mother is still at home, and I should like to see all the children together once more and have you come and dedicate our home to God, while we all rededicate ourselves to God before precious old mother leaves. If you will come with me, I will gather all the family together next Friday for that purpose.' I consented to go. The old home was a short distance from the city of Nashville. There were a large number of brothers and sisters. One was a farmer; one was a doctor; one was a real estate man; one was a bookkeeper; one was a preacher; and so on, so that they represented many professions of life. The preacher brother took me out to the old home, where all the children had gathered. As we drove up to the gate I saw the brothers standing in little groups about the yard, whittling and talking. Did you never stand in the yard of the old home after an absence of many years, and entertain memories brought up by every beaten path and tree and gate and building about the old place? I was introduced to these noble-looking men who, as the preacher brother told me, were all members of churches, living consistent Christian lives, save the younger boy, who had wandered away a little, and the real object of this visit was to bring him back to God. "The old mother was indescribably happy. There was a smile lingering in the wrinkles of her dear old face. We all gathered in the large, old-fashioned family room in the old-fashioned semicircle, with mother in her natural place in the corner. The preacher brother laid the large family Bible in my lap and said, 'Now, Brother Stuart, you are in the home of a Methodist preacher; do what you think best.' "I replied, 'As I sit to-day in the family of a Methodist preacher, let us begin our service with an old-fashioned experience meeting. I want each child, in the order of your ages, to tell your experience.' The oldest arose and pointed his finger at the oil portrait of his father, hanging on the wall, and said in substance about as follows: 'Brother Stuart, there is the picture of the best father God ever gave a family. Many a time he has taken me to his secret place of prayer, put his hand on my head, and prayed for his boy. And at every turn of my life, since he has left me, I have felt the pressure of his hand on my head, and have seen the tears upon his face, and have heard the prayers from his trembling lips. I have not been as good a man since his death as I ought to have been, but I stand up here to-day to tell you and my brothers and sisters and my dear old mother that I am going to live a better life from this hour until I die.' Overcome with emotion, he took his seat, and the children in order spoke on the same line. Each one referred to the place of secret prayer and the father's hand upon the head. At last we came to the youngest boy, who, with his face buried in his hands, was sobbing and refused to speak. The preacher brother very pathetically said, 'Buddy, say a word; there is no one here but the family, and it will help you.' "He arose, holding the back of his chair, and looked up at me and said, 'Brother Stuart, they tell me that you have come to dedicate this home to God; but my old mother here has never let it get an inch from God. They tell you that this meeting is called that my brothers and sisters may dedicate their lives to God, but they are good. I know them. I am the only black sheep in this flock. Every step I have wandered away from God and the life of my precious father, I have felt his hand upon my head and heard his blessed words of prayer. To-day I come back to God, back to my father's life, and so help me God, I will never wander away again.' "Following his talk came a burst of sobbing and shouting, and I started that old hymn, 'Amazing grace (how sweet the sound!) that saved a wretch like me!' etc., and we had an old-fashioned Methodist class-meeting, winding up with a shout. As I walked away from that old homestead I said in my heart, 'It is the salt of a good life that saves the children.' A boy never gets over the fact that he had a good father." "What have they seen in thy house?" If we are to help our children for time and eternity, our homes must be better, our lives must be truer, our ambition to do God's will must be supreme. When these conditions are met it will be possible for us to answer the question of the text. THE SWELLING OF JORDAN TEXT: "_How wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan?_"--Jer. 12:5. High up in the mountains of Anti-Lebanon a famous river was born which was to play so important a part in the history of God's people that it would not have been strange if the birds of heaven had chanted their praises when first it began its journey. From four different places in the mountain the stream starts. Then the four streams become one, and in a single channel the river makes its way across the plain. There are two chief characteristics which must be borne in mind. The first is that a part of its journey is through a rocky country, and caves are on either side of the river, sometimes one above another; frequently three caves are to be seen one above another. The other characteristic is that it overflows its banks in all the time of harvest. These two things must be kept in mind if the text would teach its lesson. There are certain people who will always remember the river Jordan--the children of Israel first of all, because it separated them from the Promised Land; and while scripturally Canaan does not stand for Heaven, yet in the mind of many it does, and the Jordan typifies an experience which stands between us and the future. Naaman will remember it, for when he came as a leper to the servant of God he was bidden to wash seven times in this river. At first he rebelled against the thought, finally he entered the stream, bathed twice, three times, four, five, six times, and was still a leper; but you will remember the word of the Lord, seven times must he bathe, and when the seventh plunge was taken, behold, his flesh was as the flesh of a little child! No man need expect to have light and peace and power or eternal life until he has fulfilled all the commands of God. The wild beasts frequently make their way to these caves as a place of refuge. When the waters begin to rise they are driven out, when they go to the higher cave, and then to the highest of all, and the waters constantly rising fill this cave and they are overpowered and put to death. They are an illustration for us. Men of to-day are in caves of different sorts; some in the cave of dissipation, others in the cave of infidelity, and still others in the cave of morality. One day the waters of judgment will begin to rise, and it will be an awful thing to stand in terror before God, driven forth without refuge. I _Dissipation_. "I am in the clutch of an awful sin," wrote some one to me recently, whether man or woman I cannot tell, but this was the story: Three years before the writer had been free, and then in an unguarded moment had gone down. Now came the pathetic cry, "I am helpless and hopeless." I do not know what the sin was, but it makes no difference; any sin can bind us if we but yield to it. Under the subject of dissipation I do not speak of drinking as the worst of sins, because it is not the worst, by any means. I had a thousand times rather admit to my home the drunkard who has been cursed with his appetite than to admit there the man who is lecherous, who possibly stands high in society and in the business world, but whose sin is great and whose heart is vile beyond description. I speak of drinking because it is the most common of sins. John B. Gough cries out concerning this sin, "I do not speak of it boastingly," said he, "for I have known what the curse of strong drink is; I have felt it in my own life and seen it in others, but I say the truth, let the bread of affliction be given me to eat, take away from me the friends of my old age, let the hut of poverty be my dwelling place, let the wasting hand of disease be placed upon me, let me live in the whirlwind and dwell in the storm, when I would do good let evil come upon me--do all this, merciful God, but save me from the death of a drunkard." When he would speak in such language, God pity the man who yields to such a sin. It may be that gambling is your weak point. When I was in Colorado a young man who was a graduate of Harvard, the honor man of his class, and who had recently buried his wife, sat at the gambling table, staked his last dollar and lost it; then deliberately put up his little child and lost her; and then, in despair, blew out his brains and sent his soul to hell. When such a man of culture and training would go down under such a sin, God pity the man who yields to it. Or it may be licentiousness, that sin which makes men lower than the beasts of the field, from which one can scarcely break away. I do not know what the sin may be that clutches your life, but if you have given way to it and rejected Christ, how wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan, when the waters rise higher and higher and you are without Christ and without hope? II Some are in the cave of infidelity. That there are honest skeptics in the world we all believe, and the honest skeptic is one who says, "I cannot believe as you do, and I do not know that I would if I could, but if your hope is any comfort to you, then cling to it and go down to your grave trusting in it." The dishonest skeptic is the man who sneers at my faith, who laughs at the old-fashioned religion, who says that once he believed in it but has grown away from it, seemingly forgetting that the greatest men the country has ever produced have been humble followers of Jesus of Nazareth. Infidelity does not satisfy. It leaves an aching void in life and mocks us in death. Besides, it is deceiving and the talk of the infidel orator is deceiving. Said one of the most eloquent not many years ago, "When I think of the Christian's God and the Christian's Bible, I am glad I am not a Christian. I had rather be the humblest German peasant that ever lived, sitting in his cottage, vine clad, from which the grapes hang, made purple by the kiss of the sun as the day dies out of the sky, shod with wooden shoes, clad in homespun, at peace with the world, his family about him, with never a thought of God--I say the truth I had rather be such a peasant than any Christian that I have ever known." And when he said it the people cheered him. It was, however, but the trick of an orator. Let us change the sentences and give a new ring to the thought. "When I think of what infidelity would do I am glad I am not an infidel; how it would rob me of the hope of seeing my mother and meeting again my child; how it would take me in despair to the grave and send me away with a broken heart--I say I am glad I am not an infidel. I had rather be the humblest German peasant that ever lived, sitting in his cottage, vine clad, from which the grapes hang, made purple by the kiss of the sun as the day dies out of the sky, clad in homespun, shod with wooden shoes, at peace with the world and at peace with God, his family Bible upon his knees, the look of ineffable joy in his face and singing that grand old hymn of Luther's, 'A mighty fortress is our God'--I had rather be such a German peasant than to be the mightiest infidel the world has ever known," and so I would, a thousand thousand times. God pity you if you allow yourself to put Christ out of your life and stand in the midst of the rising floods with no hope in him! How wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan? III Some are in the cave of morality. It seems a strange thing to have a word to say against it, only when we remember that he that offends in one point is guilty of all, and when we remember God's word as he has declared, "Cursed is every one that continueth not in all the things written in the Book of the law to do them." Then the question for the moralist is this, "Have you ever offended in one point?" A splendid steamer was launched on Lake Champlain. She made her way safely across the lake and started back, when a storm came upon her, the engines were disabled and she drifted to the rocks. "Out with the anchor," said the captain, and the command was obeyed, but still she drifted, and although the anchor was down she crashed against the rocks with an awful force, and all because the anchor chain was three feet too short. Your morality so far as it goes may be a good tiling, but it does not reach the standard of God, nor can it until you are safely united to Christ; and if you have put him out of your life and stand alone in the midst of the rising floods, then how wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan? Sin is a terrible thing. It not only blights our hopes and prospects for the future, but it wrecks the strongest characters. One has only to open his eyes to see, if he will but look abroad, what dreadful havoc this awful evil hath wrought in the world, and yet the wonderful thing is that "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life," and no matter how dreadful the wreck or how awful the ruin, Jesus Christ comes seeking to save that which was lost. Major Whittle used to tell the story of the aged Quaker named Hartmann whose son had enlisted in the army. There came the news of a dreadful battle, and this old father, in fear and trembling, started to the scene of conflict that he might learn something concerning his boy. The officer of the day told him that he had not answered to his name, and that there was every reason to believe that he was dead. This did not satisfy the father, so, leaving headquarters, he started across the battlefield, looking for the one who was dearer to him than life. He would stoop down and turn over the face of this one and then the face of another, but without success. The night came on, and then with a lantern he continued his search, all to no purpose. Suddenly the wind, which was blowing a gale, extinguished his lantern, and he stood there in the darkness hardly knowing what to do until his fatherly ingenuity, strength and affection prompted him to call out his son's name, and so he stood and shouted, "John Hartmann, thy father calleth thee." All about him he would hear the groans of the dying and some one saying, "Oh, if that were only my father." He continued his cry with more pathos and power until at last in the distance he heard his boy's voice crying tremblingly, "Here, father." The old man made his way across the field shouting out, "Thank God! Thank God!" Taking him in his arms, he bore him to headquarters, nursed him back to health and strength, and he lives to-day. Over the battlefield of the slain this day walks Jesus Christ, the Son of God, crying out to all who are wrecked by this awful power, "Thy Father calleth thee," and if there should be but the faintest response to his cry he would take the lost in his arms and bear them home to heaven. Will you not come while he calls to-day? A CALL TO JUDGMENT TEXT: "_I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing, therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live._"--Deut. 30:19. Moses was a wonderful man; whether you view him as a poet or as a leader of men, he is alike great. This text was spoken by him to the people of Israel at the close of his career. The leadership of God's chosen people is now to be transferred to Joshua, and it is in order that he may speak to them as they should be addressed, and at the same time in order that he may free himself from judgment, that he speaks as he does. I have two great desires as I present this message. First, that I might myself be faithful, and that it might be said that I am free from the blood of all men, for I have not shunned to declare unto you the whole counsel of God. Second, that I might help some one to the knowledge of Christ. This is no time for argument, for argument always calls forth discussion. It is no time for theory. Practical, every-day people of the world care nothing for mere theories. And it is no time for speculation, for to give such to the people is like giving a stone when they have asked for bread. But it is time for eternal choice. The audience of the preacher vanishes when he thinks of the text and its meaning and he is face to face with the Judgment when he shall be judged for the way he has spoken, and the people shall be called to account for the way they have heard. It is indeed a solemn word. "I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live." I _Record_. I desire to use this word as if it were a noun for the time being, for it will bring to us the same truth. This leads me to say that every one is making a record, either good or bad. Deep down through the surface of the earth you will find the evidence of storms centuries ago; the record was indelibly made. Two records are being kept. This is indicated in the twentieth chapter of Revelation, where it is said, "And the books were opened." Notice that it is plural and not singular. There is a record in heaven kept by the Recording Angel. If it were in the memory of God it would be an awful thing, for while God does not remember forgiven sin, he cannot, from the very nature of the case, forget unpardoned sin, and if that is the record one day we shall meet it face to face. There is also a record upon earth. We have seen it in the characters of men who have gone astray, and in the faces of those who have been affected by their sins. In an eastern city where I was preaching my attention was called to a young man of brilliant prospects. He was a member of a great wholesale grocery firm, and young men looked at him almost with envy; but he began to drink, and at the end of a year the senior partner called him in to say that he must change his conduct or retire from the firm. He made promises only to break them, and finally, going from bad to worse, he was forced to retire. One morning we read the news in the paper that his bloated body had been found floating in the Hudson river; and his old father, up to a few years ago, walked up and down the streets with bowed head, giving every evidence of an almost broken heart. Sin is an awful thing and makes its record on whatever it touches. II _Two Ways_. There are just two ways in this world along which men may walk, and they are not parallel ways. I used to have that idea, but I am sure it is wrong. As a matter of fact, it is but one way; going in one direction is death, and in the opposite direction is life. First: Away from God, away from his love, every step only leads us farther from Him--not because of anything he is, but because of what we have done ourselves. A father in the South sent his boy to a northern university, and for seven years he was away from the restraints of his home. Then he came back with his diploma but with the habit of intemperance fastened upon him. It seemed impossible for him to break it, and his old father was fairly crushed. His mother broke her heart and died, all because of her boy. And yet the father loved him. One day the old father stepped from his carriage in the town in which he lived. The son was heard to make a request of him, and when evidently it was refused the boy turned and struck him full in the face. The old father staggered and would have fallen to the walk except for assistance. He entered his carriage, drove back to his home, the servants saw him go out into the grove where his wife was buried, throw himself on the grave and shriek aloud. Some time later the boy returned and the father met him at the door to say, "You must go away; you have disgraced my name and killed your mother and broken my heart." This is the measure of a father's love perhaps in this one instance, but think how many times you have trifled with God, spurned his love, disregarded his Son, and yet he has loved you. And remember also that word which says, "There is a time, we know not when, A place, we know not where, That seals the destiny of men For glory or despair." Second: _Towards God_. How easy a thing it is, therefore, to be saved if there is but one way and this way runs in opposite directions, meaning either life or death. It is just to "right about face," as the soldier would say, by an act of the will and with the help of God to turn away from sin and from self. I am very sure we can do it, because it is commanded in this text, and God would not mock us with a command which could not be obeyed. I am equally sure that we must do it now, for God has plainly stated this in his Word. III _Choose Life_. As has been indicated, the text proves that we may choose life if we will, but I have more especially in mind the question, "Why should we do it?" and I answer, because it is the best sort of life and the only life. One of my friends used to tell of a man whom he saw in Colonel Clarke's mission. The man rose for prayers and accepted Christ. Later on he saw him again in the mission. He went forward to testify. He had that look upon his face the result of sin, because of which you could not tell whether he was young or old, and leaning up against the platform he gave his testimony. Among other things he said: "I came to Chicago some little time ago from my home in the east, my father having made two requests--first, that I should change my name because I had disgraced his; second, that I should go away and never return. I had fallen too low here for them to receive me even in the station house, and I was on my way to end it all when I heard the music of this mission and came in and found Christ. As I came down the aisle this evening I heard one man say to another, 'He is getting paid for this,' and I wish to say that I am. I have a letter in my pocket from my father, and he tells me that I cannot come home too soon for him. Boys, I am getting paid. I have a sister at home whose name I would hardly dare to have taken upon my impure lips, and she writes me that every day she has prayed for me and that a welcome home awaits me. I am getting paid, for to-night I am starting back to my New England home." It is life which we may choose, and life of the very best sort. It is better than anything that this world can give. Men have tried other ways, and they have ended in despair and shame and death, but this way is the path of the just and shines brighter and brighter unto the perfect day. Therefore choose life and choose it now. In St. Paul's cathedral in London it is said that under the dome there is a red mark, and I have been told that this mark indicates the place where a workman lost his life. He fell from the scaffolding and was dashed to pieces upon the floor. I have been told that in the Alps very frequently you will see black crosses where men have slipped into eternity as the result of an accident. But I suggest these stories in order that I may say that where you are at this present moment may be the black cross of death, because there some one rejected Christ. If you feel this, choose Jesus Christ; choose him, and choose him now. "I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live." A CHANGED LIFE TEXT: "_And, behold, there was a woman which had a spirit of infirmity eighteen years, and was bowed together, and could in no wise lift herself up. And when Jesus saw her, he called her to him, and said unto her, Woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity: And he laid his hands on her; and immediately she was made straight, and glorified God._"--Luke 13:11-13. These verses present to us one of the most interesting stories imaginable--of interest to us first because it is one of our Lord's miracles, and one has only to study these manifestations of his power to be persuaded of his divinity; interesting, again, because it is the account of a remarkable recovery from a great infirmity, for instead of bondage which had held this woman for eighteen years we behold her standing upright glorifying God. But it is all the more interesting to us because it presents a picture of what may be called the overflow ministry of Jesus, of which there are many instances--as, for example, the account of the staunching of the issue of blood when the woman touched the hem of his garment. He was going upon another errand, but was so filled with virtue that when one of the multitude at his side touched him, by faith healing was the result. And, again, we have an illustration in the raising of Jairus' daughter, and once again in the rescue of the widow's son from death. He was on his journey across the country and beheld the funeral procession coming. Mr. Moody used to say that Jesus broke up every funeral he attended, and he stops long enough in this journey to restore this boy to his broken-hearted mother. Again, in the case of the woman of Samaria, when he is going about his Father's business, he stops by the wellside to rest, and even in his resting moments forgives a woman's sins, so that under her influence an entire city is moved. Would that we could learn that it is the overflow of our lives that gives power to our Christian experience! This text is one of the best illustrations of this truth in the life of our Savior. I Many lessons might be drawn from this scripture, the first of which would be his power to uplift womanhood; but this is so well understood that it is unnecessary to take a moment of time to discuss it, except to say in passing that all that woman is today she owes to Jesus of Nazareth. She was as truly bound as this afflicted woman, and just as truly was she set free. But I prefer rather to let the woman of Samaria illustrate many Christians to-day who are bound in one way or another and so are shorn of power. For this suggestion I am indebted to my dear friend, the Rev. F. B. Meyer, a brief outline of whose sermon I recently had the privilege of reading. She was a daughter of Abraham, as we read in verse 16, "And ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan had bound, lo, these eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath day?" And therefore she was like many children of God whom we know. What it is that binds them we cannot always tell. With this person it is fashion, and with that it is earnings; with another it is pride, and still another selfishness; with this one it is the encouragement of some passion, and with still another it is the practice of some secret sin. It is not necessary to describe the bondage; it is true, alas, that many of us are sadly crippled in our influence because of these things, for this woman was just as truly bound as if she had been in chains. When Jesus entered the synagogue his eye saw her instantly, and he detected her difficulty. He is in the midst of us to-day, and while we are unconscious of the bondage of the one who is beside us, he understands it perfectly. That minister who has lost his old power and is therefore an enigma to his people, that church officer who is out of communion and whose testimony has lost its old ring of genuineness, that young woman bordering on despair because in her heart she knows she is not right with God, and that young man whose character is being undermined by the cultivation of a secret sin--all these are known to him. He looks them through and through, and not a point of weakness is hidden from his gaze. Note again, that she was powerless to help herself. I doubt not that she had tried again and again to lift herself up. She had been unable to turn her eyes upward to see the stars, her vision had been centered upon things below, and in this way she is like many a Christian attempting to be satisfied with earthly things and making life a miserable failure. The Scriptures declare that she "could in no wise lift up herself," and I have been told that this expression is the same word which is used in another place in the Epistle to the Hebrews, where Jesus is said to be able to save to the uttermost; so that really the Scriptures mean that she tried to the uttermost to lift herself up and failed, and that she had gone to the uttermost in the matter of bondage, and then because Jesus is able to save to the uttermost he set her free; or, in other words, her need was met by his power. Oh, what an encouragement to know that the thing which has been your defeat and mine he may easily conquer! It is a striking picture to me; he laid his hands on her and said, "Woman, thou art loosed," and she stood straight and glorified God. Some years ago there came into the McAuley mission, in New York City, a man who was, because of his sin, unable to speak and was bound down until, instead of standing a man six feet high, as he should have done, he was like a dwarf. He came to Christ in the old mission, and when kneeling at the altar he accepted him, as if by a miracle Jesus set him free also, and when he stood up the bonds were snapped that held him, and he had his old stature back again. His speech, however, was not entirely recovered. It is the custom in the mission for one to observe his anniversary each year and to give a testimony. Whenever the anniversary of this man occurred he always had another read his lesson, then he would stand before the people bowed down as he had been in sin and suddenly rise before them in the full dignity of his Christian manhood, glorifying God in his standing. This was like the woman of the text, and oh, that it might be like some one reading this who, bound by an appetite or a passion, shall be set free by the power of God! The difference between this woman in the one case bound and wretched and in the other straight and glorifying God is the difference between Christians bound by appetite, pride or sin and when set free by the power of Christ. It is the difference between the average Christian experience and what God means we should be. Two things this woman had--first, his word, when he said, "Woman, thou art loosed"; and, second, the touch of his hand as he laid his hands upon her. Both of these privileges we may have. II Have you really taken all that God meant you should have? Your life is the test of this question. If you are constantly failing at the same point, if you are dominated by a spirit of unrest, if you are lacking in spiritual power, something is wrong and you need the touch of the living Christ. The early disciples were an illustration of those of us who have not yet fully appreciated and appropriated our Savior. He had given them life, for in the seventeenth of John he declares that this is true. They had peace as a possession, for in the fourteenth chapter and twenty-seventh verse he says, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." They also had joy as a gift, for he said, "These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full"; and yet they quarreled among themselves, one of them denied him with an oath, and all of them forsook him. They were a weak, vacillating company of men, but suddenly there came a remarkable change. It was as if there had been two Peters. The first was a coward, the second a perfect giant in his fearlessness. The first was afraid of a little girl, the second faced a mob and fearlessly proclaimed the truth of God that condemned him; and the secret of this change is found in the fact that the Holy Ghost had fallen upon him and upon them. This is what we need. Jesus was God's gift to the world, and the Holy Ghost is his gift to the church. Have we failed to take both? A man over in England, telling his pastor about his experience, said that he had taken Jesus for his eternal life and the Holy Ghost for his internal life. This is certainly what we need to do more than anything else. We need the Holy Spirit of God in our lives. He would illuminate our minds as we read the Bible, strengthen our faith as we appropriate Christ, transform our lives as he came to do, and enable us to live and preach in demonstration of the Spirit and with power. Have you ever stopped to think what is really associated with the full acceptance of the third Person of the Trinity? First, _Power_. "Ye shall receive power after that the Holy Ghost has come upon you." Second, _Ability to pray_. "We know not what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself maketh intercession for us." Third, _Victory over sin_. "For the law of the Spirit of Christ in Christ Jesus sets me free from the law of sin and death." Fourth, _Cleanness of life_. "Ye have purified your souls in obeying the truth through the Spirit." Fifth, _The representation of Jesus Christ_. Not imitation, but reproduction, is what we need. Two artists are painting before a picture. The work of one is sadly deficient, the other an inspiration, for one is copying while the other is reproducing his own work. Oh, that we might be so filled with the spirit of God that men should take knowledge of us that we not only had been with Jesus but were like him! Two things we need, both of which we may have: _His word and his touch_. First, his Word. We surely have this. Has he not said, "Ye shall receive power"? But with this there is coupled a condition, "Come out from among them and be ye separate." Fulfilling this condition, we have only to step out upon his promise on the ground of the fact that he has said, "That ye might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith." Second, we have the touch of his hand. This emphasizes his reality. One of the greatest dangers of the day, it seems to me, is the fact that we are so inclined to make him unreal. It also indicates his nearness. He can fill us so that his life may come throbbing into our very being, and this is the secret of victory in the time of temptation. We must be empty to be filled, but no man can empty himself. Two ways may be presented for the emptying of a jar of air. First, use the air pump; but in this way it cannot be perfectly done. Second, fill the jar with water. This is the better way. When Christ fills our lives he empties us of self and sin. To some unknown friend I am indebted for four steps which we must take if we would be loosed from our bondage and stand straight in the presence of God and men. First: What God claims I will yield; that is myself. Second: What I yield God accepts. Since I have taken my hands off from myself I am not my own. "I have not much to bring Thee, Lord. For that great love which made Thee mine, I have not much to bring Thee, Lord, But all I am is Thine." Third: What God accepts he fills. Fourth: What God fills he uses. III Mind you, it is not once and for all that we are filled with the Spirit of God; there will be a necessity for daily renewal, not only because we may sin but also because we may use the strength which he has imparted to us. Three suggestions may be made, therefore, for our constant infilling. First: Make his word your daily portion. Count that day lost which passes without a portion of his word absorbed into your life. Second: Make his will supreme. There can be no joy in the household when the children rebel against the parents. There can be no power in Christian experience when our wills are contrary to his. Third: Make him the king of your life. His coronation will one day come, when he shall be proclaimed King of kings and Lord of lords; but while we wait for that we may crown him in our own lives. When Queen Victoria had just ascended her throne she went, as is the custom of Royalty, to hear "The Messiah" rendered. She had been instructed as to her conduct by those who knew, and was told that she must not rise when the others stood at the singing of the Hallelujah chorus. When that magnificent chorus was being sung and the singers were shouting "Hallelujah! hallelujah! hallelujah! for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth," she sat with great difficulty. It seemed as if she would rise in spite of the custom of kings and queens, but finally when they came to that part of the chorus where with a shout they proclaim him King of kings suddenly the young queen rose and stood with bowed head, as if she would take her own crown from off her head and cast it at his feet. Let us make him our King and every day be loyal to him. This is the secret of peace. THE LOST OPPORTUNITY TEXT: "_And as thy servant was busy here and there, he was gone. And the king of Israel said unto him, So shall thy judgment be; thyself hast decided it._"--1 Kings 20:40. There is a very striking incident connected with this text. The great battle is raging, a certain important prisoner has been taken, and if you read between the lines you seem to know that upon him depend many of the issues of war. His skill in leading the enemy had been marvelous, his courage in the thick of the fight striking; and now he is a prisoner. The king puts him in the keeping of a Jewish soldier, saying, "Guard this man; if he escapes thy life shall be demanded for his." It is possible that they gave an extra pull to the thongs that bound the enemy and the guard was left alone with him. It is an important duty he has to perform. His life hangs in the balance. He must have been impressed with it. But, as we read on between the lines, strange as it may seem, he becomes negligent, his bow is laid down and his spear is left standing against the tent. He becomes hungry and takes a few small cakes to eat, he is weary and lies down to doze and sleep. Suddenly there is a snap and a bound, and the guard arouses himself just in time to see his prisoner dash into the thicket, and he is gone. Now the king requires the prisoner at the guard's hand. Terror-stricken, he falls upon his face to cry aloud in the words of the text, "And as thy servant was busy here and there, he was gone. And the king of Israel said unto him, So shall thy judgment be; thyself hast decided it." It is my purpose to show in this illustration that God is always placing opportunities within our grasp. In a sense they are bound, for they may be made to do our will if we rightly use them. And it is also my purpose to show that as saint and sinner alike we have permitted opportunities to slip away while we doze in weariness or give attention to matters of less importance. God save us all from the expression, "It might have been," when it is too late, for even God himself cannot reverse the wheels of time and bring back the lost opportunity. We see this all about us. I hold in my hands a piece of cold iron. I cannot bend it; if I put it in the fire it becomes pliant; if I take it out it is cold again. There is a point in time, however, where it is bent as easily as a piece of paper. Years ago our nation sent astronomers to Africa to witness the transit of Venus. Preparation for this great sight had been going on for months. There was a critical moment when the sun, Venus and the earth were all in line. Every astronomer knew that at that moment his eye must be at the smaller end of the glass if he would see the planet go flying past the larger end. If he should miss that moment no power on earth could bring the planet back again. The world is full of these moments. Galileo studied the eye of an ox and beheld the principle of the lens. Watts [Transcriber's note: Watt?] looked at the teakettle lid as it was lifted by steam, Columbus saw the wind's direction and knew there was land not far away. The difference between these men, to whom the world is indebted, and many others is this, that they have looked at the oxen's eyes and have been unmoved, have allowed the teakettle to boil without making an impression upon them, and the wind to blow without leading them to any shore. The opportunity for greatness is gone. There is not a person in the world but to whom at some time a great opportunity has been given, and for the use or abuse of it we shall be called to a strict account. I These opportunities for doing good come to the one who is a Christian. First: I would not preach to others what I did not first preach to myself, but there are many of us as ministers like Chalmers, who was one day visiting an old man seventy-two years of age, apparently in perfect health. They talked together about everything but Christ. The minister was inclined to speak about his soul, but did not. Before morning the old man was dead. Dr. Chalmers returned to the house, called all the old man's household about him, and offered the most touching apology and prayer. He spent the entire day in the woods, saying, "If I had been faithful this might not have been." I have no question but God would say, "So shall thy judgment be." Second: You who are Christian workers have failed. A Christian merchant was told that there was a certain man with whom he had traded for years to whom he had never spoken about his soul. "I will speak the next time I see him," he said, but he never came, for while he was busy here and there the man was gone from him. Before he came again death met him. So shall his judgment be. Third: You who are parents have failed. Years ago a young Scotchman from Fife, in Scotland, was leaving home. He was not an active Christian. His mother went with him to the turn of the road and said, "Now, Robert, there is one thing you must promise before you go." "No," said the lad, "I will not promise until I know." "But it will not be difficult," said his mother. "Then I will promise," he said. And she said, "Every night before you lie down to sleep read a chapter and pray." He did not want to promise it, but he did. Who was that Robert? It was Robert Moffat, the great missionary, who, when he came into the Kingdom, brought almost a continent in after him. Many a mother has lost her opportunity to speak to her boy, and she has lost it because she has not lived as a mother should who would help her boy. So shall her judgment be. II These opportunities come to the unsaved. The Bible is full of men who have had an opportunity to be saved but are lost. First: There is Herod. His face blanches as he listens to the truth, he is ready to forsake some of his sin; but more is required than that to be a Christian, and Herod fails. Second: Look at Felix. As he gazes into the face of Paul the Apostle and hears his message, he trembles; a moment more he will be a Christian; but more is required than that to be saved, and Felix is lost. Third: Behold Judas. See him at the feet of Jesus. Later he is full of remorse because he has sold him for thirty pieces of silver; but mere remorse never saved a soul, and Judas is lost. You have doubtless heard of that young girl of whom the poet tells us. She had a string of pearls in her hand and her hand is in the water, the string is broken, and one by one the pearls slip away. So it has been with you who have been Christians. My hope is that there may be one pearl left yet. To-day is the accepted time; do not let the opportunity slip. III The Bible is full of men just the opposite who had opportunities to be saved and embraced them. First: Zaccheus. There was just one day, one hour, one moment; when Jesus would pass by, and Zaccheus ran to the sycamore tree; but he made haste and came down, and that saved him. Second: Bartimeus. There was just a moment when Jesus was near to hear the sound of his voice. If Bartimeus failed that moment he would be blind forever. I can see him quickly turning his sightless eyes in the direction of the Savior. He cried unto him and it was his earnestness that saved him. We must make haste while yet it is to-day. Third: Coming down from the mountain, where he had preached his great sermon, Jesus beheld the leper. He was dead, according to the law, yet he had a napkin bound about his mouth. If one had called to him, "Your child is dead," he could not have gone to see the little one. But he breaks through all of this and cries, "If thou wilt thou canst make me clean." It was his desperation that saved him. Fourth: Look at the dying thief, so near that he could have touched Christ if he had been free. Here yawned before him the very brink of hell, here was judgment for his sins, for he acknowledged that he was justly punished. I can see him struggle to decide whether he shall speak or not, and at last he cries, "Lord, remember me." And Jesus said, "To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." It was his last chance, and he took it. And this may be yours. God forbid that you should let the opportunity slip away. But whether my message is to ministers, to Christian workers, to parents or to the unsaved, I call your attention to this fact: It was when the soldier was busy that the prisoner escaped. Many of you have been busy about pleasure, and some day it will mock you. You have been caught by the fascination of business, and it does not prevent your soul having been surrounded by sin from which after a while you cannot escape, and if the opportunity slips away so shall our judgment be, for we must decide it. In a few years at the latest, possibly in a few months, perhaps in a few weeks--who knows but within a few days?--eternity shall be upon us. If it is an opportunity that is gone or a soul that is lost it will be a sad eternity indeed for us. To this end may God keep us watchful. A GREAT VICTORY TEXT: "_And they stood every man in his place round about the camp, and all the host ran, and cried, and fled._"--Judges 7:21. Few things in this world are so inspiring to the traveler and at the same time so depressing as a city or temple in ruins. I remember a delightful experience in passing through the ruins of Karnak and Luxor, on the Nile in Egypt, and later passing through Phylae at Assuan on the Nile; and these two thoughts, each the opposite of the other, kept constantly coming to my mind. The loneliness is oppressive, and one would be delighted to hear the song of a bird, the bark of a dog, or the cry of a child. These ruins were once happy homes, or were temples filled with worshipers. Here little children played and gray-haired patriarchs worshiped their gods. Akin to this picture is the one of the people of Israel at the time of this story, and the alternating feelings of pleasure and sadness keep constantly coming and going. The condition of the land beggared description. Homes were there, but no children were about the doors; there were fields, but no crops to be harvested; pastures, but no cattle fed upon them; the hills were to be seen, but no flocks bleated on their sides; people were there, but they were found in the caves and hiding away on the mountain sides. When they had entered Canaan, these chosen people of God, he had said unto them, "And it shall come to pass, if thou shall hearken diligently unto the voice of the Lord thy God, to observe and to do all his commandments which I command thee this day, that the Lord thy God will set thee on high above all nations of the earth; and all these blessings shall come on thee, and overtake thee, if thou shalt hearken unto the voice of the Lord thy God. Blessed shalt thou be in the city, and blessed shalt thou be in the field. Blessed shall be the fruit of thy body, and the fruit of thy ground, and the fruit of thy cattle, the increase of thy kine, and the flocks of thy sheep. Blessed shall be thy basket and thy store. Blessed shalt thou be when thou comest in, and blessed shalt thou be when thou goest out. The Lord shall cause thine enemies that rise up against thee to be smitten before thy face; they shall come out against thee one way, and flee before thee seven ways. The Lord shall command the blessing upon thee in thy storehouses, and in all that thou settest thine hand unto; and he shall bless thee in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. The Lord shall establish thee an holy people unto himself, as he hath sworn unto thee, if thou shalt keep the commandments of the Lord thy God, and walk in his ways. And all the people of the earth shall see that thou art called by the name of the Lord; and they shall be afraid of thee." We have here the Old Testament Beatitudes, and there is nothing like them. The story with which the text is associated really begins in the first verse of the sixth chapter of Judges, "And the children of Israel did evil in the sight of the Lord; and the Lord delivered them into the hand of Midian seven years." But there must also be read in connection with this the last verse of the fifth chapter of Judges, "So let all thine enemies perish, O Lord; but let them that love him be as the sun when he goeth forth in his might. And the land had rest forty years." It seems incredible that there could be such a difference in the experiences of God's people, and yet, as you study them in all their wanderings, you will find, if you turn over but one leaf of the Bible, the people who sing to-day are active in evil to-morrow, and the history of Israel is the history of one's self. Life is like a short ladder, as some one has said, and we spend most of our time going up to pray and down to sin. There is a striking picture in the second verse of the sixth chapter. The chosen people of God were dwelling in caves instead of their rightful positions in their homes, and the same is true to-day; men who ought to be at the front are left behind because they are living selfish lives or lives of sin. Do not for a moment think that I am saying that because a man is living out of sight that he is doing nothing, for we have only to remember Gideon to know that this is not true. He was a hidden man doing an honest work, and the Angel of the Lord called him, saying, "The Lord is with thee, thou mighty man of valor." To this Gideon makes a significant reply in the thirteenth verse of the sixth chapter of Judges, "And Gideon said unto him, Oh, my Lord, if the Lord be with us, why then is all this befallen us? and where be all his miracles which our fathers told us of, saying, Did not the Lord bring us up from Egypt? but now the Lord hath forsaken us, and delivered us into the hands of the Midianites." For the angel had said, "The Lord is with thee, Gideon," and Gideon had said, "If the Lord is with us, then how can these things be?" And the angel did not say it. How often it is true that we miss the truth of God because we miss the grammar of the Bible. When Gideon had thus replied, we read in the fourteenth verse of the sixth chapter, "And the Lord _looked_ upon him, and said, Go in this thy might, and thou shalt save Israel from the hand of the Midianites; have not I sent thee?" And the thing to pay special attention to there is that the angel _looked_ at Gideon. Sometimes in translating a foreign language you come upon a word which you cannot express in your own language; so it is with us here, for the Lord looked Gideon into a new man and said unto him, "Go and thou shalt save the people," which leads me to say that one man right with God is mightier than a host against God. The seventh chapter of Judges opens with the significant word "then." You must have all that goes before in your mind to appreciate this word. God has a plan for every life, and all your sickness, your disappointment, your discipline, is for something. There must be a "then" for you. It is the call of God and the answer to it that makes real life. Compare Gideon the farmer with Gideon the soldier, and you will see the difference in a human life. Let one, however low or ignorant, but hear the voice of God and respond to it, and when such an one answers God's call for his country, for the church, or for Christ, the heroic in him is being stirred. It is said that years ago there used to be a man in Mr. Spurgeon's Tabernacle who never had spoken in his social meetings, for the reason that he had a stammering tongue. One day he heard the great preacher say that the Lord could use even the tongue of the stammerer. It sent him to his home, and to his knees, and when he rose to his feet after having yielded himself wholly to God, as if by miracle God gave him the gift of speech, and I have been told that no one in the Tabernacle spoke more to the edification of the people or the praise of God than he. Some years ago when John G. Woolley was delivering his closing address on the commencement day at college a young boy heard him under peculiar circumstances. He had walked in from the country. It was a hot day, and to quench his thirst he had tasted the water of one of the springs. It made him very ill, and just to escape the heat of the sun he crept under the platform, which had been erected upon the college campus for the commencement exercises. While there he fell asleep and was awakened by the sound of a musical voice. Something that the graduating student said stirred his soul, and he there made a vow that he would be a preacher. It was God's call to him and his answer. He has since become one of the world's most famous preachers, and his influence has been as wide as the world itself. When the Midianites stood against the children of Israel God called Gideon to lead an army against them, and this text is part of this story. The scene was remarkable. Thirty-two thousand people following Gideon's leadership with the first flush of the battle upon them. They were ready to march, and God said when he looked at them, "The people are too many." They would seem to us to have been too few, for literally a multitude of Midianites stood against him. But we go wrong so often by applying human arithmetic to divine decrees. It is said that when Napoleon marched with his soldiers he was counted as being equal to 40,000 of his men, and so, after all, it is not a question of numbers with God, but of the few men whom he can use. The test by means of which Gideon's army was decreased was remarkable. In Judges, the seventh chapter and the second to seventh verses, we read, "And the Lord said unto Gideon, The people that are with thee are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hands, lest Israel vaunt themselves against me, saying, Mine own hand hath saved me. Now therefore go to, proclaim in the ears of the people, saying, Whosoever is fearful and afraid, let him return and depart early from Mount Gilead. And there returned of the people twenty and two thousand; and there remained ten thousand. And the Lord said unto Gideon, The people are yet too many; bring them down unto the water, and I will try them for thee there; and it shall be, that of whom I say unto thee, This shall go with thee, the same shall go with thee; and of whomsoever I say unto thee, This shall not go with thee, the same shall not go. So he brought down the people unto the water; and the Lord said unto Gideon, Every one that lappeth of the water with his tongue, as a dog lappeth, him shalt thou set by himself; likewise every one that boweth down upon his knees to drink. And the number of them that lapped, putting their hand to their mouth, were three hundred men; but all the rest of the people bowed down upon their knees to drink water. And the Lord said unto Gideon, By the three hundred men that lapped will I save you, and deliver the Midianites into thine hand; and let all the other people go every man unto his place." This test is going on now among men; by the way we walk and talk, by the way we listen and work, men form their judgment of us, and so does God. We may measure our spiritual state by the way we spend our leisure moments, by the way we spend our Saturday afternoons, by our rest days, and by the books we read. There is flowing past us the stream of literature and the stream of pleasure, and the question is whether we are going to fall down before these streams to drink or whether we are just going to dip up as we hurry along to fulfill our mission; or, in other words, whether we are to be so taken up with God's plan that we have no time to idle away and no disposition to turn aside. "It does not so much matter how many members one may have in his church, for under the banner of a popular Christianity soldiers march. What if there should be a struggle ahead when to be a Christian would mean to suffer martyrdom, or dying at the stake, or contending with the beasts of Ephesus like Paul, how then do you think it would be?" And yet all the time to-day the struggle is going on; both from within and from without the foe is assailing us, the Bible is being attacked, Christ is being denied, the resurrection is counted a myth, and the future is being questioned, and in every part of the church it would seem as if men thought that the life of the Christian was all a holiday, for people are idling, gossiping, buying and selling, marrying and giving in marriage, instead of being in the thick of the fight in the name of the Lord of hosts. Give us three hundred in the church right with God rather than the thirty-two thousand compromising with sin and the world, and we shall win the victory. I I am impressed in this story with the thought of how much may be accomplished without wealth, influence or material strength. We somehow seem to think that we cannot work as ministers without a fine equipment. We have an idea that we must have a committee back of us to be assured of success, that if we are without influence we have a small mission in the world, forgetting that Michelangelo wrought the frescoes in the Sistine Chapel with the ochres which he digged with his own hands in the garden of the Vatican; forgetting also that the greatest work in the world has been accomplished by men like Gideon, who delayed not for elaborate preparation, but just took firebrands and torches--indeed, anything they could lay their hands upon--and cried out, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon," and won the victory. The text is most striking, and presents an outline which any one ought to be able to see. II _They stood_. It is not so easy to stand as to march or to fight. I have been told that the most difficult service of the soldier is picket duty; and yet never until we learn to stand shall we be able to fight. In the fourteenth chapter of Exodus, the thirteenth and fourteenth verses, we read, "And Moses said unto the people. Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will shew to you to-day, for the Egyptians whom ye have seen to-day, ye shall see them again no more forever. The Lord shall fight for you and ye shall hold your peace." And again, in 2 Chronicles, the twentieth chapter and the seventeenth verse, it is recorded, "Ye shall not need to fight in this battle: set yourselves, stand ye still, and see the salvation of the Lord with you, O Judah and Jerusalem: fear not, nor be dismayed; to-morrow go out against them, for the Lord will be with you." Three thoughts are impressed upon my mind: First: _Before any service, let us stand, giving God a chance with us_. Let him use you and not you use him so much. In the beginning of his Christian service Hudson Taylor, the China Inland missionary, was desirous of being used and cried out for God to send him out into service. At last God seemed to say to him, "My child, I have made up my mind to save inland China. If you will come and walk with me I will do it through you," and the China Inland Mission was born. Second: _Wait for orders_. In Ephesians the sixth chapter and the tenth to the thirteenth verses, we have the following description of a soldier: "Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand." The striking part of that description is the sentence, "having done all, to stand." In other words, with all our ingenuity and our planning, with all our preparation and equipment, we lack one thing: that one thing is the touch of the Almighty God. Third: _Be willing to do the common thing_. It was rather interesting to march with thirty-two thousand, and a striking thing to break pitchers and cry aloud, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon," but just to stand was a different matter, and not at all easy. If we were only willing to do the common things for Christ we should accomplish more in our lives. The great Bethany Sunday school building standing in Philadelphia is a model in its perfect equipment. The mighty Sunday school held there is one of the wonders of the world. The building was begun not only in the mind and heart of the distinguished superintendent, the Hon. John Wanamaker, but when he appealed for funds as they were then needed one of the poorest children in the city made practically the first and best contribution. She gathered bones from the alleyways, sold them and brought her few pennies to help make this wonderful work a success. III _Every man in his place_. First: Let us remember that God has a plan for every life. Ephesians 4:8-13, "Wherefore he saith, When he ascended up on high, he led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men. (Now that he ascended, what is it but that he also descended first into the lower parts of the earth? He that descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that he might fill all things.) And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ; till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." Second: That which in our lives fits into God's plans dignifies and strengthens in every way. A few years ago there was a young man selling farming implements. He felt inclined to do Christian work, and later on became a Christian Association secretary. He became known locally because of his ability to sing in a male quartette. He was a good singer. Whether he was more than the average secretary I do not know. He one day felt the call to preach and shrank back from it because he felt he was without ability, then gave himself to God without reserve. He has since become one of the greatest preachers to men in our country, has possibly led more men to Christ than any other man of his day, and it was my privilege a short time ago to see hundreds of men under the power of his preaching come to Christ; and this was all because Fred B. Smith gave himself unreservedly to Christ. Third: It may be a very ordinary service that God calls you to perform, but if you feel it your place your service will please him. Rev. Dr. Torrey tells the story of the poor mother who by hard day's work made it possible for her boy to attend college. The day of the graduation came, and he said to her, "You must go with me to the commencement." Naturally she shrank from it, for her clothing was of the poorest sort; but he said that there would be no commencement without her. He was the valedictorian of his class. Proudly he led her into the hall, and with beaming face she listened while the great throng applauded his brilliant speech. When he received his gold medal he walked down from the platform and pinned it upon her breast, saying, "This is yours," and she was as proud as any queen could have been. It was a very common thing to wash and iron for one's daily living, but to be honored thus was something any mother might long to experience. She simply did her best in a humble way and pleased God. IV _Round about the Camp_. First: Let it be remembered that we have a responsibility to others. Some years ago on the Irish Sea a terrific storm was raging. It was known that just off the coast a vessel was going to pieces. Suddenly two men, an old sea captain and his son, put out through the storm. Everybody tried to persuade them not to do so, for it seemed to be absolutely useless. Over the waves, which appeared almost mountain high, they pushed along until at last amid the cheers of the waiting throng they returned with their little boat filled with those who had been all but lost upon the ship. When the minister said to the old sea captain, "Why do you do this? Why take such a risk?" he answered, "I have been there myself, and I knew the danger." It is because we have been once in sin and now are redeemed by the precious blood of Christ that we say something to those who are about us. Second: We are responsible for others. When Horace Bushnell was a tutor in Yale he was a stumbling block to all the students because he was not a Christian. He realized this himself, and yet he said, "How can I accept Christ or the Bible, for I do not believe in either one." And then the question came to him as from God, "What do you believe?" and he said, "I only know there is a difference between right and wrong." God seemed to say to him, "Have you ever taken that stand where you would say, 'I am committed to the right even if it ends in death'?" and he said, "I never have." Falling upon his knees he said, "O God, if Jesus Christ be true, reveal him to me and I will follow him." And he began to walk in the light, which constantly increased, and almost every student in Yale came to Christ. "No man liveth unto himself alone." We are responsible for the souls of other men. We are also responsible for their service; if we are half-hearted they will surely be. V "_And the host ran, and cried and fled._" What hosts are against us to-day? First: As individuals there may be coming constantly to our minds a question of doubt, of pride, or of secret sin, and we wonder if these are evidences that we are not Christians. Not at all. They are but the fruit of our old nature, and are the hosts encamped against us. We have only to take our stand with Christ, right with him, and we shall win the victory. Second: In the Church we meet with indifference, worldliness, infidelity, and we wonder how we may win the victory. The answer is simply, "We have but to be right with God and to walk with God," and three hundred such followers of his could put the enemy to rout quickly. Third: There is also a battle which those of us who are Christians are obliged to fight. It has to do with the unsaved man. Men are not Christians to-day not because they do not believe, not because they are without interest in the future, but simply because they have put off and put off, and I know of no way to overcome this difficulty except by taking one's stand with Christ and with those who are like-minded with Christ. Having first concern for the lost, then his intense earnestness in their salvation, the proscrastination of the sinner will flee away. For such a victory as this we plead and pray. PAUL A PATTERN OF PRAYER TEXT: "_If ye shall ask anything in my name I will do it._"--John 14:14. Jesus testified in no uncertain way concerning prayer, for not alone in this chapter does he speak but in all his messages to his disciples he is seeking to lead them into the place where they may know how to pray. In this fourteenth chapter of John, where he is coming into the shadow of the cross and is speaking to his disciples concerning those things which ought to have the greatest weight with them, the heart of his message seems to be prayer. What an encouragement it is to his disciples to pray when they remember that he said, "Verily, verily, I say unto you. He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father. And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son" (John 14:12-13). Jesus was himself a pattern of prayer. He had prayed under all circumstances; with him the day was born in prayer, went along in meditation and closed in most intimate fellowship and communion with his Father. Under all circumstances, whether it be the raising of Lazarus from the dead, or the breathing in of the very spirit of God so essential to him in his earthly ministry, he prayed; and because he was a man of prayer himself, he could speak to his disciples with authority concerning this subject. If we ourselves would know how to pray there are certain great principles which must be remembered when we come to him. First: _We must believe that he is, and that he is the rewarder of them that diligently seek him_. If one has hazy or mystical ideas of Christ then from the very nature of the case prayer is impossible. Second: _We must believe his word_. Mr. Spurgeon's statement that when he went to God he always went pleading a promise is the secret of his great success as a man of prayer. Earthly parents are not insensible to the pledges they make to their children and surely God cannot be. Third: _We must confess and forsake our sins_. To confess sin is to arraign before us those sins of which we know ourselves to be guilty, and when they appear before us in solemn and awful procession we must heartily renounce them. If we do not we cannot pray. In another place in God's word we read, "Ye ask and receive not, because, . . ." and while in the verse the rest of the sentence is "Ye ask amiss," we might finish by saying, "We ask and receive not, because our lives are not right in God's sight." Fourth: _We must exercise our faith_. The little child who prayed for rain and then wanted to carry an umbrella with her when the sun was shining is an oft repeated illustration, but such faith as this is what every child of God must practice. The text is exceedingly broad. "If ye shall ask anything in my name I will do it." It is broad enough to include temporal blessing and spiritual power, comprehensive enough to lead us to believe that God will direct our lives if we ask him and will bear our burdens even though they be almost insignificant in their weight. Thank God for the "anything" in the text! It may be stated truly that God's promises to Israel are especially concerning temporal blessing and that his promises to the church have particular reference to spiritual possessions; and they both, the history of Israel and the history of the church, prove that God will give to us temporally as well as spiritually. These blessings are included in the "anything." I have been greatly impressed with Paul as a pattern in prayer, and for the outline of this message as well as for many of the suggestions I am indebted to an English clergyman, the Rev. E. W. Moore, who has written, "The Christ Controlled Life," and "Christ in Possession," and has recently sent out a little book entitled, "The Pattern Prayer Book." I have noticed in studying Paul that the burden of his prayer was for spiritual blessing rather than for temporal power, and throughout the Epistles at least seven illustrations are to be found concerning this subject. I _Prayer for Pentecost_. Ephesians 3:17-19, "That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints, what is the breadth, and length, and depth and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God." Just what is the burden of this prayer of Paul's? First: He is not asking for that indwelling which is ours at conversion; for this he would not need to pray, for at the moment of regeneration Christ is ours and eternal life (which is only another way of saying, "the life of the eternal") is our never failing possession. Second: He is not asking for the bodily presence of Christ, as some have suggested, for in this scripture he states that it is by faith that Christ is to dwell with us. Third: It is by no means a figurative expression, for if this were true there would be no comfort in it to God's children. Yet, as a matter of fact, this prayer of Paul's has been an inspiration to God's people everywhere. It is rather a special Pentecostal privilege for God's children concerning which Paul is praying. In Galatians 4:19 we read, "My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you." And this is his petition. Let it be noticed that the tense of the verb in this connection denotes singleness of action, so that Paul's prayer may be answered not gradually but immediately. If this be true then let it be answered now for you and for me. There are three blessings which would flow out of this answer to prayer. First: _Constancy of experience_. "That Christ may dwell," pleads the Apostle. It does not mean that he is to come in a fitful experience, but the language of the hymn is true, "Abide with me; fast falls the even tide, The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide; When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me." Second: _Strength will be our possession_, for the Apostle tells us that we are to be "rooted and grounded in him." As the roots of the tree take hold upon the ground and the giant oak withstands the storms of the Northern coasts, so we may withstand temptation and trial and be more than conquerors if this prayer is answered. Third: _There will be cleansing_, for we are told that "as a man thinketh in his heart so is he." We are told also that we must keep our hearts with all diligence, for out of them are the issues of life. It is easy enough to understand how our lives would be pure if Christ were only in possession. II _Prayer for Perception_. Colossians 1:9-10, "For this cause we also, since the day we heard it, do not cease to pray for you, and to desire that ye might be filled with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding; that ye might walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing, being fruitful in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God." The need of this prayer was not that the Colossians were weak, or that they had been conspicuous in the failure of their Christian experience, for in the third and fourth verses of the first chapter of Colossians, Paul says concerning them, "We give thanks to God and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, praying always for you, since we heard of your faith in Christ Jesus, and of the love which ye have to all the saints"; and then in the face of this statement he prayed earnestly for them. The subject of his prayer was not that he desired anything, humanly speaking, very great for them; he did not ask honor, nor did he desire that wealth should be theirs, but merely states in the ninth verse that they might be filled with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding. I have been told that literally, this means that they might have full knowledge, not simply a passing opinion concerning him and his work. If we study this particular scripture in which Paul is praying for the Colossians we will learn how this prayer is to be answered. First: We must meditate upon God's word. He makes himself especially known to his people in his word. There are certain great principles which we must remember if we would know God's will. (1) _We must present our bodies to him_. Romans 12:1, "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service." (2) _We must be delivered from this present evil age_. Galatians 1:4, "Who gave himself for our sins, that he might deliver us from this present evil world, according to the will of God and our Father." (3) _We must separate ourselves from the world_. 1 Thessalonians 4:3, "For this is the will of God, even your sanctification, that ye should abstain from fornication." (4) _We must be thankful_. 1 Thessalonians 5:18, "In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." (5) _We must continue patiently to serve and follow him_. 1 Peter 2:15, "For so is the will of God, that with well doing ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men." All of these things are God's will for us. If we but practice them the results can be only beneficial. As a result of such a study of God's word the general knowledge of God and his will shall be ours. Second: The spiritual perception spoken of in this particular scripture may be ours, as we listen to the Spirit of God, for he will speak to us God's message and make known to us God's will. The purpose of this prayer of Paul's for the Colossians was that they might walk worthy to all pleasing. What a joy it is to know that we may please God! For this we should be grateful. III _Prayer for Purity_. 1 Thessalonians 5:23-24, "And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Faithful is he that calleth you, who also will do it." This prayer is also remarkable if we notice the spiritual condition of the Thessalonians, for of them we read that they had received the word of God with joy, and had turned from idols to serve the living God, and yet the Apostle prays for their sanctification. By this he does not mean sinlessness, and a careful study of his position would lead us to know that he does not teach that sanctification may be ever apart from growth. We must day by day come more and more into the likeness of Christ. There are three words which it would be well for us to remember in our study of this subject. First: _Position_. If we would grow unto his likeness we must be where he can let shine upon us the light of his countenance. Frances Ridley Havergal had an aeolian harp sent to her which she tried to play with her fingers, and failed. At last a friend suggested that she place it in the window, and the music as the wind touched the strings was entrancing. We must be where he can use us. Second: _Purification_. Sanctification is necessary because God uses only that which is clean, never an unclean life. Third: _Possession_. It is really Christ filling us, and he will fill us if we give him the opportunity. The extent of this work is made plain in Paul's prayer: (1) The spirit is touched, and the spirit is that part of our nature which is capable of fellowship with God. (2) The soul is filled, and the soul is the seat of all our intellectual faculties. (3) The body is possessed, and since the body is just the servant of the higher powers of man, we can easily understand how necessary the work is. It is needful, (_a_) For our peace, for the God of peace is to sanctify us. (_b_) For our prayers. For Paul is talking about prayer when he praises. (_c_) For our praise, for we are told that we must rejoice evermore. IV _Prayer for Power_. Ephesians 1:15-20, "Wherefore I also, after I heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus, and love unto all the saints, cease not to give thanks for you, making mention of you in my prayers; that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give unto you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him: the eyes of your understanding being enlightened; that ye may know what is the hope of his calling, and what the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints, and what is the exceeding greatness of his power to usward who believe, according to the working of his mighty power; which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead, and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places." The Church at Ephesus was in every way remarkable, but to this people Paul wrote his most spiritual epistle, which in itself is a compliment to them, for as in another instance it was not necessary for him to write unto them as if they were carnal. With this people for the space of two or three years he labored, as we find recorded in Acts the nineteenth chapter and the tenth verse, "And this continued by the space of two years; so that all they which dwelt in Asia heard the word of the Lord Jesus, both Jews and Greeks." Acts 20:31, "Therefore watch, and remember, that by the space of three years I ceased not to warn every one night and day with tears." There were no divisions in this church as at Corinth; there were no heresies as at Galatia, and no dissensions as at Philippi; and yet, for all that, he prays most earnestly. The natural question for us to ask is, just what is it for which he prays, and the question is easily answered. First: For advancement in knowledge; he asks God that the eyes of their understanding might be enlightened. Under this general petition there are three special requests. (1) _That they might know the hope of their calling_. We have but to study Paul's Epistles to realize that this calling involved: A perfect vision, for one day it is Christ's promise and teaching that they shall see him as he is. The hope of this would keep them faithful. It involved, in the next place, a perfect likeness, for, seeing him as he is, they would become like him, and the hope of this would keep them clean. It involved, in the third place, a perfect union, for when this hope of their calling is fulfilled there is no possibility of anything coming between the believer and Christ; so the fellowship must be perfect. (2) Paul also requests that they may know the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints. That is very wonderful. He does not say the riches of the saints in him--that could be easily understood; but what an inspiration it is to know that he has glory in us, and that the mere possession of poor, frail creatures like ourselves is to him a perfect delight! We sometimes say that we could not get along without Christ, but how inspiring it is to know that he could not and he would not get along without us! (3) The Apostle also prays that the church at Ephesus might know what is the exceeding greatness of Christ's power towards us. It is not simply a great power that is described but an exceedingly great power. There is absolutely no limit to what he can accomplish in and through us if we but yield ourselves unreservedly to him. Second: Another question, may naturally come to us. Why have we not this power of his? The answer is simply because the eyes of our understanding have not been enlightened. We have been too much self-centered and too closely wedded to the world. We need a stronger vision. There are stars in the heavens to-day that have never yet been seen, not because they do not exist but because there has been no glass invented strong enough to take them in. Each new day brings a vision of new heavenly bodies. We also need stronger faith, for if we have become persuaded of the fact that he can do all things the victory is won when we take this position. V _Prayer for Perseverance_. Philippians 1:9-11, "And this I pray, that your love may abound yet more and more in knowledge and in all judgment; that ye may approve things that are excellent, that ye may be sincere and without offence till the day of Christ. Being filled with the fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Christ, unto the glory and praise of God." Paul has a tender affection for this Philippian Church. Naturally he would wish for them only the best things, and the burden of this prayer of his is, First: That they might be able to persevere to the end, or rather to the day of Christ. Let it not be forgotten that he who said, "Nothing can separate us from the love of God," at the same time prays that those who are the object of this love may be faithful in their perseverance until time shall be no more. It is God's privilege to preserve us, it is our privilege to persevere; and if we study the words "preserve" and "persevere" we shall find that they are composed of almost the same letters with only a slightly different arrangement. We must be exceedingly careful in our walk and we must rely perfectly upon Christ. Second: Paul prays for the purity of these Philippians when he asks that they may be sincere and without offence. I have been told that the word "sincere" sometimes means sunlight; which leads me to say that our conduct as Christians should be such as to bear the clearest light of investigation. Possibly the use of this word grew out of the custom of the people who stored away their goods in the darkest corners of the bazaar where their defects could not be seen plainly. When the purchase had been consummated they were brought out into the sunlight. The word also means "wax." It is said that in the days of imperial Rome when a sculptor came to a flaw in the marble he filled it with wax to hide the defect, but when the hot days came and the wax was melted the defect was seen plainly. Paul is desiring for these Philippians that there may be none of this, but that their lives should commend themselves both to God and to men. Third: He desires that they may be filled with the fruits of righteousness, not simply that they may produce fruit of one sort or another. It is not enough simply to bear fruit. "Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit." This is the overflow experience of the Christian and must be realized by us all. VI _Prayer for Perfectness_. Hebrews 13:20-21, "Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is wellpleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ; to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen." The burden of this prayer of the Apostle is that his people may do the will of God. This is required in all times and for various reasons. First: The glory of God demands it, and unless we are doing his will we are robbing him of his glory. Revelation 4-11, "Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honor and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created." Second: Our own happiness depends upon it. Let it not be thought for a moment that we are simply to do God's will when some sort of trial is upon us, but rather let us remember the scriptural expression, "I delight to do thy will, O God." What if God's will should be done for but one year in all things in any of our cities; would the result be anything else than perfect joy? Third: Our safety depends upon it. We must lean hard upon God's will. In Switzerland at one of the most dangerous passes, where men used to travel with their faces white with fear, to-day any ordinary traveler can pass in safety because along the edge of the cliff there is an iron rail against which you may lean and have almost no danger beside you. This iron rail corresponds to the will of God for Christians. Paul also asks in this prayer that God's people may be made perfect to do his will. We need not be afraid of this word perfect, nor of Paul's prayer, for as Dr. Moore has said, it is not a perfection of doing but a perfection to do, not a finality but a fitting. The same Greek word is used elsewhere, as for example, "Fitted." Romans 9:22, "What if God, willing to show his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction." "Prepared." Hebrews 10:5, "Wherefore when he cometh into the world, he saith, Sacrifice and offering thou wouldest not, but a body hast thou prepared me." "Framed." Hebrews 11:3, "Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear." "Restored." Galatians 6:1, "Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness, considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted." "Mend." Mark 1:19, "And when he had gone a little farther thence, he saw James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, who also were in the ship mending their nets." The illustration has been used of a man with his leg out of joint. He cannot walk except with great pain, but when he puts himself without reserve into the hands of the doctor and the leg is set he can then rise and walk. He is not a perfect walker, but he is made perfect to walk. And the idea of all the verses above quoted is that we may be set with right relations to Christ that he may have his way with us, that we may stand where he willed we should stand; and as a result we shall be well pleasing in his sight. VII _Prayer for Peace_. 2 Thessalonians 3:16, "Now the Lord of peace himself give you peace always by all means. The Lord be with you all." Peace is most difficult to define. It is the opposite of unrest, confusion and strife; and this peace for which the Apostle prays is, first, not the peace of indifference. Let this never be forgotten. Second: It is not the peace of prosperous surroundings. Some people frequently fail at this point but it is the very peace of God himself. The peace here prayed for looks in three directions. First: Godward. "Being justified by faith we have peace with God." His pardoning voice we hear and he is reconciled. Second: Inward. "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; let not your heart be troubled." Third: Outward. With such a possession we may meet trial and bear burdens and never be moved. How may we secure such a possession? (1) By having confidence in Christ's work, for when he met his disciples and showed them his hands and his side, he said, "Peace be unto you." (2) By submission to Christ's rule. "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace," or, as the literal translation is, "Thou wilt keep him in peace, peace, who trusteth in thee because his mind is set on thee." This is our possession, and for that Paul prays. A STARTLING STATEMENT TEXT: "_The wicked shall not be unpunished._"--Prov. 11:21. There are very many passages of Scripture which ought to be read in connection with this text; as for example, "Fools make a mock at sin" (Proverbs 14:9), for only a fool would. Better trifle with the pestilence and expose one's self to the plague than to discount the blighting effects of sin. And, again, "The soul that sinneth it shall die" (Ezekiel 18:4). From this clear statement of the word of God there is no escape. Or, again, "Our secret sins in the light of thy countenance" (Psalm 90:8). There is really nothing hidden from his sight. We may conceal our sinful thoughts from men and sometimes even our evil practices; but not from God. Or again, "Sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death" (James 1:15). Here is unexampled progress indicated from which there never has been the slightest deviation. But one of the sharpest texts in all the Word of God, and one which men somehow in these days seem to ignore, is Paul's expression, "Be not deceived; God is not mocked: whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap" (Galatians 6:7), and if we compare this reference in the New Testament to the text in the Old Testament the harvest indeed seems to be sure, for "The wicked shall not be unpunished." There is a note of truth in all of these statements for both saint and sinner. Jeremiah the thirtieth chapter and the eleventh verse, "For I am with thee, saith the Lord, to save thee: though I make a full end of all nations whither I have scattered thee, yet I will not make a full end of thee: but I will correct thee in measure, and will not leave thee altogether unpunished." The old Prophet is speaking to the people of Israel; and while he tells them that they are God's people, nevertheless they shall not altogether go unpunished, for if they sow to the flesh they must of the flesh reap corruption. In Deuteronomy the fifth chapter and the ninth verse, we read, "Thou shalt not bow down thyself unto them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me." It is a solemn fact that the sins of the fathers descend upon the children unto the third and fourth generation. It is more solemn that so blighting is the effect of sin that the fourth generation is the last. There is no fifth. Even though we be pardoned from sin forever, we shall not altogether go unpunished. Certainly it is true that if one rejects Jesus Christ, punishment for him is absolutely certain. The other day in the city of Chicago the following appeared in the _Inter-Ocean_ as an editorial under the title of "Preaching for Men." "To those who look upon men as they are it is simply astounding that so many preachers should act as if the hope of reward alone could be efficient to move average mankind to leave sin and follow after righteousness. In every other relation of human life every man is constantly confronted with the alternative: Do right and be rewarded; do wrong and be punished. The pressure of fear as well as the pressure of hope is continually upon him. He knows that he may conceal his wrongdoing from the eye of man, but he is always under the fear of discovery and punishment. But he goes to church, and in nine cases out of ten the preacher, while insisting that he can hide nothing from the eye of God, yet says nothing to arouse in him that fear of God which is the beginning of wisdom. If he turn from religion to science he finds science more positive of the certainty of punishment than of the certainty of reward. Science cannot, for example, assure him of a long life, even though he scrupulously obey hygienic laws. But it can assure him of a speedy death if he wantonly violates those laws. Precisely this fact that the consequences of sin in punishment can be foretold more positively than the consequences of righteousness in reward is what makes fear the strongest influence dominating and directing human conduct. Yet many preachers deliberately abandon the appeal to fear and then wonder why their preaching does not move men to active righteousness. When more preachers recover from the delusion into which so many of them have fallen such complaints will diminish. For all human experience proves that the preaching that appeals to fear of punishment as well as to hope of reward is the preaching that is really effective--is the preaching of all the great preachers of the past and the present--is the preaching that moves." The statement of the text is exceedingly plain and the teaching is unquestioned. It is a good thing for us to-day to understand what sin is, for if we have a wrong conception of sin it naturally follows that we shall have a wrong conception of the atonement. Without an understanding of sin there is no sense of guilt, and without the sense of guilt there is no cry for pardon. The best definitions that I have ever found for sin are written in the word of God. I 1. "Whosoever committeth sin transgresseth also the law: for sin is the transgression of the law" (1 John 3:4). The word "transgression" means to go across. Does your life parallel God's law or cross it? Your answer to this question determines the measure of your sin. You have only to read the ten commandments and try to mold your life by them to find your answer. Better still, you have only to read these commandments in the light of Jesus' interpretation, where the look of lust is adultery and anger without cause is murder, to see how far short you have come; and if this is true certainly you are a sinner, and the text is for you. "The wicked shall not be unpunished." 2. "All unrighteousness is sin; and there is a sin not unto death" (1 John 5:17). Righteousness means right relations with God. You may make ever so strong a claim to right living and speak ever so vehemently concerning the good that you are accomplishing in the world, but the first question for you to settle is this, What is your relation to God and what have you to say with reference to your acceptance or rejection of Jesus Christ? It is a solemn thought that whatever we do counts for nothing if our relation to God be wrong, while the little that we may do may count for much if we have taken the right position before him. 3. "Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin" (James 4:17). Omission, according to this scripture, is sin; neglected opportunity is sin, shirking responsibility is sin, refusing to obey God is sin; and so when I ask you about being a Christian, if it is best and right and you acknowledge that it is, then if you are not a Christian, this very fact is in itself sin, for when one knows the right and refuses to do it he is a sinner, and the text is true--"The wicked shall not be unpunished." 4. "And he that doubteth is damned if he eat, because he eateth not of faith: for whatsoever is not of faith is sin" (Romans 14:23). Active doubt is sin. If you have a doubt concerning the sinfulness of certain things, then to do those things is sin. If I have the least doubt concerning the amusements which may be questionable, or the position which may be doubtful, so long as a doubt or a question remains these things are sin; and the Bible states the fact that "The wicked shall not be unpunished." 5. "And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment" (John 16:8). Unbelief is the chiefest of sins. It is to reject Jesus Christ, it is to close in our own faces the door of hope, it is to trample the blood of the Son of God under our feet, and it means also to insult the spirit of grace. One morning in the city of New York a man dashed down the street and past three men standing on the pier. They could not tell how old he was, nor how he was dressed, but they saw him jump upon the bulkhead near by, strip off his overcoat, coat and hat, and, before they could stir to save him, plunge off the end of the pier. There was a short rope lying near by, and seizing this a man ran with his companions to the point from which the man had jumped. They threw the rope toward the struggling figure that they could just make out below them. The rope fell a foot and a half too short. Then they ran back to the gas plant and got a longer rope. The ice was running so thick in the river that the man's head and shoulders were still to be seen above the water when they returned. Taking careful aim they threw the rope squarely across the struggling form, shouting, "Catch it and we'll pull you in." The unknown man, however, making a last effort, threw the rope aside and shouted back: "Oh, to h--- with it! I'm through!" Then he sank out of sight. That is a picture of the man who, having offered to him mercy and grace in Jesus Christ, spurns all that God offers, and is therefore hopeless. Sin separates us from God. Sin separates us from each other. Sin pollutes us and we become impure. Sin deceives us and we are in danger and know it not. A friend of mine walking along the streets of Cincinnati early one morning saw a young girl standing upon the very edge of the roof of one of the highest office buildings. She was carefully balancing herself and every moment it seemed as if she would fall. The elevator was not running, but he made his way hurriedly to the roof of the building, walked carefully across it, seized her by the hand, drew her back and found that she had risen in her sleep and all unconsciously was standing on the very brink of eternity. This is what sin does for us, and it is a solemn thought that for all such the text is true, "The wicked shall not be unpunished." II I do not make my appeal, however, on the ground that the punishment is all for the future, for that is indeed sure. I ask you the question, Do you believe in heaven as a place of rewards? If so, the same argument will prove the existence of hell. Do you reject hell, because it seems to you to be inconceivable? Then the same argument will blot heaven out of existence. What it is that awaits the wicked, I am sure I do not know--only that it is to be away from God, with the door of hope shut forever, and the Bible tells me that there is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, for the wicked shall not be unpunished. I lift my voice against the punishment here, for sin is so sure in its deadly work, it is so insidious in its influence, that before you know it it is upon you; just one day of trifling and you are gone. The people about Pittsburg will never forget the Cheswick mine horror in 1903, when one hundred and eighty-two dead men were taken from the mine. Under the direction of one of the mining engineers, a rescuing party started into the mine to see if there was any hope of saving the men who might be yet alive. The journey is described by one who volunteered to go with the engineer on his perilous journey. "When we got to the foot of the shaft, Mr. Taylor lighted a cigar. He blew out a great cloud of smoke and watched it drift into a passage. 'This way,' he said, 'The smoke will follow the pure air draught.' So we went on, Mr. Taylor blowing clouds of smoke, and we following them. Suddenly he wheeled and yelled; 'The black damp is coming!' The cigar smoke had stopped as though it had come to a stone wall, and was now drifting over our heads. We ran with death at our heels, ran with our tongues dry and swelling and our eyes smarting like balls of fire. It seemed only a minute until Mr. Taylor shrieked and fell forward on his face. He crawled along for a while on his hands and knees, and then fell again and lay still. I stopped for a second, with the idea of carrying him. Then I realized how hopeless that was. We were still a quarter of a mile from the mouth of the pit. He was a very heavy man, and I, as you see, am small and weak. Again I ran choking and beating my head with my hands. I fell, cut my face, called upon God, struggled to my feet and fell again. So I plunged on, falling and fighting forward. Black madness came upon me. The horrible, sickening after-damp was tearing my heart up through my dry throat. My brain was bursting through my temples. Then a stroke, as though by a sledge hammer, and I knew nothing more. They found me at ten minutes past one Tuesday morning. At first they thought I was dead. Then they saw my head rise and fall while I weakly pounded on a rock with a stick that I had caught in my delirium." This is to me a striking picture of what sin does for us. There is no one so strong but he may be overpowered by its awful influence. God save us from it, for "The wicked shall not be unpunished." III Oh, is there no hope? For it would seem from the message thus far as if nothing but despair was ahead of us. Two ways to escape from the power of sin have been suggested; one is man's way, the other is God's. Let us consider them both. 1. Man suggests reformation. But how about the sins of the past? They are still untouched. Man tells the sinner to do his best; but how about the will which has been weakened by sinful practices, and which seems unable to act? Man tells the depraved man to change his surroundings; but how about the heart that is unclean? The fact is, man's way will not reach us. In January, 1904, the American Liner New York left Southampton and came into the New York harbor with a sad story to tell. A sailor was suspended over the side of the vessel making repairs when an enormous wave tore him away, and he was very soon under the forepart of the ship. The waves began to carry him away, and a life line was thrown to him with a buoy attached. The sailor, sometimes visible and then obscured by the rising of a swell, grasped the line, and a cheer went up. He took a half turn with the line around his waist, was rolling himself over into the bight of the line and it looked as if he would be saved. The sailors on deck were just about to haul in. The poor fellow's hands and fingers must have been numb, for he suddenly rolled out of the half-formed bight, losing his grip upon the line. None of the passengers could help the man, none of the crew dared jump to his rescue, no boat could live in such a maelstrom. The sailor, who was struggling and being whirled around and bobbing like a cork, his oilskins partially spreading out and sustaining him, kept drifting further and further away. Aroused by the commotion, the second officer came on deck just as the sailor lost his hold. Tossing aside his cap, overcoat and jacket, he bade the seamen take a bowline hitch around his body and lower him away. The volunteer life-saver was cheered by the passengers as he went over. It was bitter cold, the sleet sharp and the swells ugly. A strong swim in the trough of the seas and over the crests and the officer might reach the seaman. It was his only chance. He had no more than touched the spume before the waves hurled him against the side of the steamer again and again, bruising his ankle and knee, but he struck out bravely and gradually drew nearer the sailor. For fifteen minutes the second officer struggled. During one of his brave spurts in the direction of the struggling man he looked up to the rail. The practiced eye of the seafaring man saw something that caused him suddenly to turn and breast his way back to the ship. The line was too short. The seaman holding the line attached to the officer had in his hands the mere end of it, and there was not another bit to pay out. It was a sixty fathom line, "all gone," and the officer yet only half way to the drowning man. It was too late to splice another. Had it been thought of in time the man might have been saved. A longer struggle was useless, and the officer allowed himself to be hauled aboard, leaving the helpless man to go to his last account. That is always the difficulty with man's effort to save the lost. It does not reach far enough and fails just when it ought to hold. 2. God's way. "The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanses us from all sin," that is God's message. "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." This is God's invitation. "I even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." This is God's pledge, and he has never failed to keep it. In the old days, when England and Scotland were at war, the English came up against Bruce. They drove him from his castle and as he fled away from them they let loose his own bloodhounds and set them upon his trail. His case seemed hopeless. He could hear the bay of the hounds in the distance, and those who were with him had just about given up in despair; but not so with Bruce. He came to a stream, flowing through the forest, he plunged in, waded three bow-shots up the stream and then out upon the other side. The hounds came up to the stream, stopped and sniffed; they had lost the track. They turned back defeated, and Bruce in time won the day. Is it not like this with our sins? Like a pack of hounds they are after me; wherever I flee they are close upon me. "The wages of sin is death," I am told, but I have found the way of escape. Here flows a stream which runs red with the blood of Jesus Christ, and I plunge in and am free. "There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Immanuel's veins; And sinners plunged beneath that flood Lose all their guilty stains." THE GRACE OF GOD TEXT: "_I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins._"--Isaiah 43:25. In looking over an old volume of Sermons preached by H. Grattan Guiness, forty-five years ago, I came across the message which he delivered with this text as a basis. So deep was the impression made upon me by my first reading of the sermon that I have taken Mr. Guiness' outline and ask your careful attention to its development. If one should enter a jewelry store and ask to see a diamond, or any other precious stone, the jeweler would first spread upon his show case a black cloth and then place the diamonds upon it, not only for protection but also in order that the black background might bring out distinctly the brilliancy and worth of the gems. So God gives this best of all his promises with the dark picture of sin clearly and thoughtfully portrayed. In verses twenty-second to the twenty-fourth we read, "But thou hast not called upon me, O Jacob; but thou hast been weary of me, O Israel. Thou hast not brought me the small cattle of thy burnt offerings; neither hast thou honored me with thy sacrifices. I have not caused thee to serve with an offering, nor wearied thee with incense. Thou hast bought me no sweet cane with money, neither hast thou filled me with the fat of thy sacrifices: but thou hast made me to serve with thy sins, thou hast wearied me with thine iniquities." In these verses God says that his people have not called upon him in prayer, they have not presented their offerings, neither have they presented unto him themselves. He also affirms that they have wearied of him, and that they have also wearied him with their iniquities, and then he exclaims, "I have not caused thee to serve with an offering, nor wearied thee with incense," and with these clear statements he gives us the gracious statement of the text, "I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." Mr. Guiness gives us four beautiful thoughts in this text concerning our sins. First: They are blotted out from God's Book. Second: They are blotted out with God's hand. Third: They are blotted out for his sake. Fourth: They are blotted from his memory. A more admirable outline of a text of Scripture I do not know, a more cheering message to a child of God I have never found. I Not long ago, in Chicago, a young man was induced to confess to one whom he thought was his friend the killing of his father and mother. As the confession was being made, as he supposed to but one person, it was all being taken down by those who were near enough to hear him speak, and when he appeared before the court his own confession was used against him and sent him to a life imprisonment in the penitentiary. What was true of this young man is true of us. Every sermon the minister preaches is recorded, every word an individual speaks is put down. It is a solemn thought to realize, that at the judgment we shall give account for even our idle words. Science has proven that our acts, our words and even our thoughts make their indelible record. Not long ago in our home we came across a long-unused phonograph. We started it going, placing upon it one of the cylinders which had been packed away with the phonograph, and were startled to hear the voice of one who had been dead for years. We heard the message he dictated, the song in which he joined and the laugh with which he closed it, and yet his voice has long been silent in death. There is not a sin of your youth which has not made its record, not a passion of your mature years that does not stand somewhere against you, not an act, a feeling or an imagination that has not been indelibly written; not all the changes of time, not all the efforts of man, can wipe these things out. In the British Museum there is a piece of stone not larger than the average Bible at least four thousand years old, and in the center of the stone there is a mark of a bird's foot; four thousand years ago the track was made, and for four thousand years the record has stood. If these things are true of us--and they are, according to the Word of God--then what prospect is there for us but that of eternal punishment? For when we stand at the judgment there shall appear before us the sins of omission and the sins of commission, the sins we have forgotten and the sins we have but recently committed against ourselves, against our fellow men, and against God. It is indeed a black picture, and with whitened faces and rapidly beating hearts we ask, Is there any hope? I bring you God's gracious answer to this important question: "I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." Notice, it is the voice of God speaking. "I, even I," he exclaims, "will blot out your transgressions." It is, first of all, a commercial term. We were in debt to God, hopelessly in debt, and our obligation has been canceled; over against our sin is placed the righteousness of the Son of God, and we are free. "Jesus paid it all, All to him I owe; Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow." It is also a chemical expression, for it is a picture of God applying the blood of Jesus Christ to every page of the written record. The sins of our youth long ago passed out of mind; the sins of our manhood, which have taken up every part of our being, the sins of to-day--all have gone, for he himself has blotted them out. When we realize that we are forgiven of God it means more than if we were forgiven of men, for in the might of his forgiveness our past sins are gone, they shall not even be mentioned against us; the fear of judgment is taken away, for Jesus himself says, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life" (John 5:24). It is the Passover story over again, "When I see the blood, I will pass over you." Thus are our sins blotted out. II It is with God's hand that the work is done; and for very many reasons this is a great comfort to us. First: Because it was God's hand that made the record, he it was who put down all your sins. He never rested in his work; week after week, month after month, year after year, the recording work was being done until your record became blacker than the blackest midnight; and behold the hand that made the record blots it out. Second: It was his hand against which you offended. Your sin was against yourself. It is true it hurt your character, lowered your self-respect; but more especially was it against God, for you despised his authority, forsook his service, broke his laws, defied his justice; you grieved his spirit, and you crucified his Son. And behold it is the hand against which you committed all these offenses which blotted out your transgressions. Third: It is the offended hand which blots them out. It was the hand that opened the fountains of the deep, and behold the floods came, the waters above and the waters below clasped their hands and destruction was everywhere save in the Ark. It was his hand that brought destruction upon the cities of the plain, consuming them with a mighty flame, and it was his hand that opened the sea for the children of Israel and then closed the sea over the pursuing Egyptians. The very thought of the offended hand makes us tremble, but behold, it is this hand that blots out all our transgressions. Fourth: It is the hand of justice that does the work. The same hand wrote, "The wicked shall not go unpunished," and wrote again, "The soul that sinneth it shall die," and wrote yet again, "The wages of sin is death." This hand is stretched forth in our behalf. I doubt not the question has often come to us, "How can God be just and be the justifier of them that believe?" In the light of such statements as these just quoted I am sure it is for this reason--it is for the offering of the just for the unjust. He made him to be sin for us who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. A man was needed for such an offering, and Christ became man. The man required must be born under the law, so Christ came in the likeness of sinful flesh. The man born under the law must be without sin, so he was born pure. The man born under the law and without sin must be willing to die, and so he came saying, "I delight to do thy will, O God." And the man born under the law, without sin and willing to die must be able to provide an atonement which would make the wandering sinner and the love of God one, and so Christ at the command of God was thus furnished a sacrifice of sufficient power and magnitude to save the whole world. It is this hand of God that blots out our transgressions. Fifth: It is the hand of the Supreme Being that does the work. What a word of encouragement this is. It was this hand that made the worlds and hurled them off into space. It was this hand that created man and made him in the likeness of God. It was this hand that formed the countless number of angels, and has ever directed their heavenly movements. It was this hand that wrote the law upon Sinai. And it was this hand that holds the keys of the kingdoms of heaven and hell. He blots out our transgressions. From his decision there can be no appeal. With such a work as this, who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect? Would God that justifieth do it, or Christ that died consent to it? In the light of such a thought the Apostle Paul says, "For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:38-39). III Our sins are blotted out for his sake. God saves the sinner not alone because of pity for the sinner, and certainly not simply because he is in danger of hell, but in order that he may glorify himself; and this is no selfish glorification, but rather in order that he may show to us now and throughout all the ages what he really is. God has made different revelations of himself. We have beheld his wisdom in creation, in his providences and in his word. We have seen his justice in that he gave his only begotten Son to die for poor lost men. We have seen his power in the working of miracles and the transforming effect of his grace. It remains for us to see his love in the story of salvation, for until we behold him as the Savior of the sinner we do not know him. It is this that shall make us not only rejoice here in time but rejoice with joy unspeakable in eternity. The Apostle Paul writes in Ephesians 2:7-8, "That in the ages to come he might shew the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness toward us through Christ Jesus. For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God." IV Our sins are blotted out from God's memory. The last of this wonderful text is the best. When we detect a failure of memory here in this world among our friends it is an evidence of weakness, but it is no weakness in God to forget. This is but another one of those expressions descriptive of God in which human language is used to describe a thought and in which human language is too poor an agency to convey all the depth of the meaning. It is just another picture of God stooping down to meet our weakness and it is God assuring us that our sins are gone completely. It is as if they never had existed, for they shall never stand against us and in the day of judgment they shall not even be mentioned. Our sins must have been a grief to him, just as the sin of an earthly child is the source of sorrow to an earthly parent; but they are so no longer, for he has forgotten. The Bible represents God as being angry because of our transgressions, but if ever there was anger with him it is so no longer, for you cannot be angry with a person whose injury against you you have forgotten entirely. We do not in this world speak of what we have forgotten, nor will God speak of our sins. We do not punish what we have forgotten, nor will God permit us to be punished, for he has blotted out our transgressions and will remember them no more. There is no awaiting penalty for your sin, there is no judgment to meet at the great white throne, there is no hell for you at the last, for your sins, for Christ's sake, have been forgotten. If you cast a stone into the water and it sinks away there is for a time a ripple, where the stone has gone down; but in a moment it has gone forever, you can see it no more. So God has cast our sins into the sea and the place where they have gone cannot even be found. V But what must I do to take advantage of all this gracious offer of God? I answer according to the Scripture. There must be true repentance; repentance is a change of mind, it is having a new mind for God. There must be regeneration; regeneration is a change of nature, it is a new heart for God. There must be conversion; conversion is a change of living and a new life for God. If we would be born from above we must accept God's word. Two friends were conversing one evening. One of them with a skeptical mind had just rejected the Bible because it did not tell him the things that he would know. He insisted on knowing how the worlds were made, and demanded that he should be told concerning the origin of heaven and why God permitted it, and because the Bible failed here he would have none of it. Just as his friend was leaving the skeptic said to him, "Here is my lantern. I want you to take it and it will light you home." But the lantern was refused by the Christian man, "for," said he, "this lantern will not light up the mountains in the distance, nor the valley stretching away at my feet." His friend was amazed. "Man," said he, "take the lantern; it will make a road for you across the moor and light up your pathway home." "Oh," said his friend, "if that is true I will take it; but listen to me. So is the Bible not for distant paths of investigation; it is not so much to tell us concerning creation and existence--we shall know these things by and by. It is for the path at your feet and it will light you home a space at a time." The skeptical man saw it in an instant, he took God's word and came back again to the faith of his childhood. So I offer it to you with its promises as of lanterns, if its commands are carefully received and followed out. You, too, may pass from darkness into light and you may claim from God this text of mine which says, "I even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." CONVERSION TEXT: "_And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven._"--Matt. 18:3. Jesus Christ was the world's greatest teacher and preacher. Multitudes followed him because he taught them, not as the scribes, but as one having authority. He came to them with the deepest truth of God, but couched in such familiar expressions, and told in such a fascinating way, that all men heard him and went their way rejoicing that so great a teacher had come into the world as the messenger of God. He desired to speak to them concerning the kingdom, and seeing on the distant hillside a farmer sowing his seed, he gave them the parable of the sower; and every farmer in his company began to understand his message. He told them the story of a woman baking bread, and in the spreading of the leaven every housekeeper had a vision of one of the deepest principles of the coming kingdom. He gave them the account of the boy who went away from his home, breaking his mother's heart, and, according to tradition, putting her in her grave; causing his old father to bow his head in shame again and again, and yet in spite of it all, his father loving him; and every listener learned from the story a lesson concerning the love of God which could have been given to him in no other way. He was acknowledged as the world's greatest teacher and preacher. The text is introduced by the word "verily," and this is peculiar to Jesus. The word calls especial attention to the coming message. It was as if he had sounded a bell and said, "Stop and listen"; and wherever the word "verily" occurs the Bible reader would do well to give heed to the message of Jesus. What hope is there for the moralist when Jesus said, "Except ye be converted"? What hope can there be for the man who says God is so merciful that he will not allow him finally to be lost when Jesus said "Ye shall not enter into the kingdom, except ye be converted and become as little children." It will be necessary for us to read carefully verses eight and nine in this eighteenth chapter of Matthew, if we would be impressed with the importance of conversion. There are solemn words here. "Wherefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off, and cast them from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet to be cast into everlasting fire. And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes to be cast into hellfire." I have been told that there are two ways of reading this text. The first is as we have it in the King James version; the second would make it read thus: "Verily, I say unto you, except ye convert yourselves and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." Those who hold to this second reading say that there is a difference between regeneration and conversion--that regeneration is God's part of the contract, while conversion is ours; that conversion is simply having the willing mind, while regeneration is God's imparting to us his own life; and to convert one's self is simply to be willing to be saved. And this is all-important, for even God himself cannot save us against our wills. But I prefer to use, in my treatment of the text, the generally accepted idea of conversion, and wish my message to center around the following questions: What is conversion? How may I be converted? Do I know when I was converted? How may I know certainly? I What is conversion? I own a piece of property, and you desire to purchase it. You pay me a price, and the property is transferred from my ownership to yours. It is a converted piece of property. This is just a hint as to what conversion is. We were sold under sin; and if any should object to this expression, we have sold ourselves under sin. Jesus came and in the shedding of his own blood paid the price of our redemption. As a child of God, I am bought back from bondage to freedom. To be converted is to be turned about. Going away from God, I turn towards him. With my face set away from heaven, I deliberately turn and accept Jesus, who said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life." To be converted is to cross the line which separates light from darkness, and may be done as easily as if one drew a line in the path before him and stepped over it. Both of these would be by the act of one's will; only it is to be remembered that when by faith we accept Jesus there is imparted to us a knowledge which comes from the Holy Ghost alone; while we seem to be acting in our own strength, yet really it is in the strength of God. Let it be remembered, however, that no two people may have exactly the same experience. There is an illustration of this in the healing of the blind men in the New Testament. I can imagine them having a convention, and each giving his testimony. One declares that the only way to receive your sight is to have clay and spittle put upon your eyes and to wash in the pool of Siloam. Another ridicules this experience and declares that only the touch of the fingers of Jesus is necessary. Still another speaks and emphatically declares that even the touch of Jesus is superfluous, for at the command of Jesus he saw clearly. Another says that instantaneous sight is impossible, and describes his own experience, when he saw men like trees, walking. But when all have given their testimony, they finally unite in declaring that whereas they once were blind, now they can see; and after all this is the important matter. A friend of mine described a number of people who came to view "The Angelus" that celebrated masterpiece of Millet's. Some people admired the perspective; others, the figure of the man; others, that of the woman. One man simply stood aghast as he looked, and exclaimed, "What a marvelous frame that picture has!" and no two people expressed the same opinion concerning the masterpiece. How could we expect them to have the same experience in coming to Christ? It may be that some will say, "Why insist upon conversion when my life is a moral one?" And my answer is that the difficulty with morality is that it is worked out according to men's standard and falls far short of God's. In my first pastorate I had a blind man as one of my hearers. He used to walk about the village where I preached, generally without a guide, and apparently went as easily as a man with eyes. He had a little stick in his hands, with which he touched the trees and the fences, and seemed to know by the very sound where he was. One day at noon, when he should be going home, I saw him walking rapidly away from his home. I finally convinced him that he was going in the wrong direction, and he asked me to set him straight, which I did. Going in the new direction, he used his stick in the same fashion, used his legs in the same mechanical way, but the difference between the man in the first instance and the second was this--that in the first picture he was going away from home, while in the second he was going homeward rapidly. The trouble with man's morality is that it is self-centered and not Christ centered if he is rejected. II How may I be converted? For from the text which says "Except ye be converted" it would seem as if some power outside of ourselves must be working in our behalf, and this is true. The foundation of it all is the atonement by Christ, his sacrificial death upon the cross. Rejecting this truth, there is no hope for us. In our sinful condition, the spirit of God rouses us, convicts us of sin, convinces us of our need of a Savior, and finally God, in his grace, gives us the strength to yield, and we pass from darkness to light. Sometimes great need drives us to light, as in the case of Nicodemus; while again great sin compels us to come to him, as in the case of the thief on the cross. But whether it be need or sin, let us start with little faith, if we have no more, and God will meet us the moment we start. I once conducted services in a soldiers' home. The commanding officer told me, when the service was concluded, of a former inmate, an old sea captain, who came to the institution a confessed infidel. He refused to attend any of the services in the chapel; finally he was taken ill, and then the commanding officer entered his room, asking him to read the Scriptures, which he declined to do. Again he came suggesting that he read the Bible to see if there was any part he could believe, and a bottle of red ink and a pen were left by his bedside, the officer suggesting that he mark any verse red if he could accept it. This appealed to the dying man and he said, "Where shall I read?" The officer said "Begin with John's Gospel." And he did so. He read through two chapters without making a mark, and through fifteen verses of the third chapter. Then he came to the sixteenth verse, which is a picture of the very heart of God, and he reached for his pen and marked the verse red. When this much of the story had been told we reached the old captain's room and passed the threshold to find the bed empty, for he was gone. "I wish you might have seen his Bible," said the captain. "I sent it to his family recently. There was not a page in it that was not marked red." Over his bed swung a pasteboard anchor; marked upon it were these words--"I have cast my anchor in safe harbor." For he had gone home. III Do you know when you were converted? That is, do you know the exact time? There are two extremes in experiences in this matter. I recall the experience of an old man who sat in my lecture room one Friday evening, and just as the hands of the clock marked the hour 9:30 he said "I will," and came to Christ. That was the moment of his conversion. But, as for myself, I have not had this experience; I do not know just when I turned to Christ. It must have been when I was but a small child. One of the best women I know has had an experience similar to mine, while one of the greatest preachers in the land has told me that he was a drunkard until he was 21 years of age, and then, on his knees, by his father's death bed, he came to the Savior. After all, it is not so much a question of the knowledge of the day, or the hour, or the month of one's conversion as "Do we now know Christ?" IV How may we know that we have passed from death into life? Certainly not with our feelings as a proof, for they change as the sands shift on the seashore. If our feelings be the foundation, then we may be in the kingdom and out of it a great many times a day. It is not always to be determined by a great change in one's life, for men who have not accepted Christ have had such an experience. There is only one sure way of knowing it, and that is on the authority of the word of God. John 5:24, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation: but is passed from death unto life." And John 6:47, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that believeth on me hath everlasting life." It is said that Napoleon while riding in front of his soldiers lost control of his horse, when a private stepped from the ranks, seized the horse's bridle and saved the officer's life. Napoleon saluted him and called him captain. "But, sir," said he, "I am not a captain, only a private." "Then," said Napoleon, "I will commission you captain." And immediately he stepped into the company of those officers; they ordered him to the ranks, but he said, "I am a captain." "By whose authority?" they said. If then he had replied, "Because I feel like a captain," how ridiculous it would have been! Pointing to Napoleon, he said, "I am a captain, because he said it." Thus with God's word as a foundation we stand secure. V Do not forget to notice that we are told that we must come like little children. Not like the philosophers of the world, but like little children who always trust implicitly those who are about them. If we would be saved, we must be willing to be taught, and we must some time make a beginning. Then why not now? Some years ago John B. Gough visited a home in a New England city, and the heartbroken mother told him that her boy, who was an inebriate, was confined in an upper room in the house, which was much like a cell. The great temperance leader went to speak to him and said "Edward, why don't you pray?" and he said, "Because I don't believe in prayer." "But," said Mr. Gough, "You must believe in God." And he replied, "I do not believe in anything." "I am sure you are wrong in this," said he, "for I know that you believe in your mother." Then there came a new look into his face when he said, "Yes, I believe in her." "Well," said Mr. Gough, "you must then believe in love. Let us fall upon our knees and pray." And the young man began, "O love," and the spirit of God said unto him, "God is love," and he changed his prayer and said "O God," and then came the same spirit and said, "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son," and he said "O Christ," and when he said this the deed was done. He immediately rose from his knees, and he has been free ever since. FIVE KINGS IN A CAVE TEXT: "_And it came to pass, when they brought out those kings unto Joshua, that Joshua called for all the men of Israel, and said unto the captains of the men of war which went with him, Come near, put your feet upon the necks of these kings. And they came near, and put their feet upon the necks of them. And Joshua said unto them, Fear not, nor be dismayed, be strong and of good courage: for thus shall the Lord do to all your enemies against whom ye fight._"--Joshua 10:24-25. The history of the children of Israel is one of the most fascinating stories ever written. It abounds in illustrations which are as practical and helpful as any that may be used to-day, drawn from our every-day experience. God certainly meant that we should use their story in this way, for in the New Testament we read that the things which happened to them were as ensamples for us. The word "ensample" means type, or figure, or illustration. To appreciate this text and the story of the five imprisoned kings we must go back a little bit to the place where the leadership of Moses had been transferred to Joshua. God is never at a loss for a man; his plans are never frustrated. If Moses is to be set aside Joshua is in preparation for his position. Doubtless Joshua may have felt somewhat restrained, as he was kept in a position of not very great prominence, but he certainly realized when he stood as the leader of the children of Israel that all things had been working together for the good of his leadership, and doubtless he praised Jehovah for his goodness to him. There are many incidents in connection with the immediate story of the children of Israel which should be mentioned here. When they were ready to move towards Canaan Joshua told them that when the soles of the feet of the priests touched the water of the Jordan the water would stand on either side before them and they could pass dry shod into Canaan. Suddenly the marching began. They stood within three feet of the waters, which ran the same as they had been running for years; then two feet, then one, and then six inches, but there was no parting of the waters before them. Let us remember that God had said, "When the soles of the feet of the priests touch the water they shall separate." And it was even as he said, and on dry land the children of Israel passed over to the other side. It is a perfectly natural thing for one who is unregenerate to say, "Why insist upon confession, and the acceptance of Christ, and how can the mere acceptance of the Savior save me from the penalty and the power of sin?" But a countless multitude will rise to-day to say, "It was when we stepped out upon what we could not understand and what seemed as impassable and impossible as the parting of the waters of the Jordan that God gave us light and peace." When once they were in Canaan what an interesting story that is in connection with Rahab of Jericho! The spies had entered her home and a mob outside was seeking them that they might put them to death. Rahab promised them deliverance, only she exacted from them a promise in return that they would save alive her father and her mother and her loved ones; and when she let them down by means of a cord from the window of her home they said to her, "Bind this scarlet cord in the window and gather your loved ones here and they shall be saved." And when the children of Israel had marched about Jericho and the walls were about to fall, suddenly they lifted their eyes and they saw the red cord fluttering from the window, and while all else was destroyed Rahab and all her loved ones were saved. What a little thing evidently stood between them and death--just a red cord! And yet as a matter of fact it is only a red cord that is between us and death--namely, the blood of the Son of God; for, as in the Old Testament times when God saw the blood and the destroying angel passed over the home, so in these New Testament times the blood which has been received by faith insures us our safety and we are set free from sin's penalty and sin's power. The story of Achan is a note of warning. It is rather singular that when the children of Israel had taken Jericho they failed at Ai, and yet not singular when we realize that one man had sinned in all the company. He had taken gold and silver and a Babylonish garment and had hidden the same in his tent, and this was in direct disobedience to the commands of Joshua. The sad thing about sin is that we cannot sin and suffer alone. Our friends suffer, our kindred must bear a part of the woe with us. When Achan sinned the children of Israel lost a victory. Sin is progressive. In the seventh chapter of Joshua and the twenty-first verse, we read, "When I saw among the spoils a goodly Babylonish garment, and two hundred shekels of silver, and a wedge of gold of fifty shekels weight, then I coveted them, and took them; and behold they are hid in the earth in the midst of my tent, and the silver under it." And you will notice that, first he saw, then he coveted, then he took. It is always thus; a sinful imagination will lead to outbreaking iniquity, and a small sin encouraged will ultimately mean disgrace. The story of the Gibeonites is also interesting. They had heard of the power of the children of Israel and were afraid of them; but they made up their minds to deceive them. So, lest the Israelites should think that they came from a near by territory and therefore should turn against them they put on old clothes, wore old shoes upon their feet and carried musty bread in their baggage. Then they stood before Israel and said, "We have come from a far country; look at our clothing, it is worn out; and at our shoes, they are in holes; and at our bread, it was fresh when we started, it is musty to-day." And Joshua said, "We will make them hewers of wood and drawers of water," and they were saved from death but they served in bondage. Let this be remembered always that deception inevitably means bondage. One is in bondage to his conscience, for it constantly reproves him. He is in bondage to the one he has deceived, for he can never stand honestly before him. He is most of all in bondage to his sin, for he will surely be found out. The Amorites were against the children of Israel and they were a great company. It is in connection with their struggle against this power that the text is written. I The Israelites started in this conflict with a mighty power against them, as we have seen. But so have we. There are first of all the tendencies of our old nature against which we must fight, for just as with the law of gravitation if I take my hand away from a book or a stone it falls to the floor or the ground because this law pulls it downward, so there is a law in my members and has been in the life of every man since Adam's day pulling me away from the true to the false. It is for this reason that it is easier to do wrong than to do right, to be untrue than to be true. Then there is against us the very world in which we live. Its atmosphere, its business, even its social life is tainted with that which is sinful or to say the least questionable, and he who lives in the world and is in any sense of it has a hard battle to fight. But there are two special things which are against us. First: The sins which we have encouraged. It may be in the beginning very small, but Satan is perfectly satisfied if he can have the least hold upon the life of the one whom he wishes to wrong. I read in a Chicago paper the story of a woman who was making a heroic struggle against an awful curse. She had become addicted to the use of morphine. For fourteen years she was a consumer of the drug. Apparently she could not shake off the habit. Building up a resistance to the action of the drug, her system became accustomed to enormous quantities of it. She could not eat, nor sleep, nor work without it. Most of her scanty earnings went to purchase it. She was a seamstress, and by toiling many hours a day managed to get enough money to buy it. Some years back she had been a happy wife and mother. Her husband loved her; she was devoted to him and to their two children. She lost him; she lost the care of her children; rapidly she drifted away from them. The powerful narcotic helped to deaden her pain. When her anguish became unbearable a double dose of it would enable her to drowse away the hours. "I will never again touch or taste morphine, so help me God!" she said. Immediately she discontinued the use of the drug wholly. She could get no sleep; she could not swallow food half the time or retain it. She was beset by horrible visions. She was racked by an inexpressible longing. But she held on. Those who knew her and watched her agonizing battle with astonishment and sympathy told her that she was killing herself. "It may be," she would answer, "but I shall die true to my oath." "But," they would urge, "a habit like yours, which has obtained for years, should be broken gradually." "I will master it. I have blotted it from my life," she would answer. "I shall quit it this way even if I go into the grave. It has mastered me; it has cost me my home, husband and children; now I will master it." She started at shadows, her nights were nights of horror; she would bury her nails in the palms of her hands and compress her lips to keep from screaming. There was no rest for her. Still she tried to work and grew weaker. "You cannot give me that," she said, "I remember my oath. Give me any medicine you choose save opium. God would forsake me now if I forsook my promise to him." The physician remonstrated with her, but in vain, so he gave her a substitute which failed of its effect, as he knew it would, and she died. Even when the hand of death had clutched her grimly, though her terrific sufferings would have been allayed by the poison, she refused to take it. Any person in the room would have bought it for her and administered it gladly, so that she might pass away in peace, but she would not prove traitor to herself. She was a friendless woman except for acquaintances recently made. Her life had been sad and hard. Held in the grip of an enemy that set its mark upon her, she was shunned and went her downward way alone. Those who were with her say that just before the end came she smiled, knowing that she had won her fight; and yet years ago she began to trifle with sin, and it had mastered her. Again, we have against us sins which not only have been encouraged but have been committed again and again until they have become a habit of our lives, and he who has such a sin as this finds himself in the grip of one who is a tyrant. In a city paper the other day I came across the story of a man who once had some prominence in the world but began to go wrong, naturally drifted towards the evil and finally found himself surrounded by the lowest of companions. Because of his natural ability he easily assumed leadership. The particular form of crime they practiced was administering chloral to those who sat at the bar in the saloon to drink. They did this by attracting the attention of the man who was to drink to something else in the room and then the deadly knock-out drops would be administered and they would rob the man. One night the dose was too strong and the victim died. The one who caused his death came before the city authorities recently to give himself up and pitifully ask that he might be quickly sent to death to pay the penalty of his crime for, said he, "From that moment my mind has never been at rest. I wandered about town for two or three days trying to get rid of the sight of that fellow's face; but at night was when I suffered. The moment I dozed off I could see him in my dreams beckoning and laughing as he dragged me over some cliff, and I waked up cold with fear. No one knows what I suffered. I left the city. I went to Denver. I went to Butte. I traveled everywhere, but wherever I went night and day that dead man was hovering around me. I couldn't sleep and my mind began to weaken. One night I went into a gambling den. I thought the excitement might drive that vision out of my head. I played roulette. I bet on the black; the red won. And right before me I saw that printer's face just like I see you now, grinning as the dealer dragged in my money. I ran out of that club like a crazy man and wandered about town till I saw a freight train pulling out of the yards. I climbed into an empty box car and lay down in the corner to rest. For a few moments the face was gone. Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up that car as bright as this cell, and there, just a couple of feet from me, I saw that man I'd killed plainer than I see you. He reached out and caught me by the arm. I screamed and jumped out of the car. They found me next day lying beside the track; and when they got me to a hospital, as I hope for pardon, that thing's black and blue finger marks showed on my shoulder. I've been in a lot of places since that but I never got over it. Finally it got so bad I couldn't stand it and I came back to Chicago to confess." And just as we have all these things against us so the children of Israel had the Amorites against them and the five kings were unitedly arrayed to fight them. II But there was a sure deliverance for Israel and there is a sure deliverance for us. God promised to be with Joshua and his people. Joshua 1:5, "There shall not any man be able to stand before thee all the days of thy life: as I was with Moses, so I will be with thee: I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee." Even the things that were impossible he helped them to accomplish. Joshua 6:1-2, "Now Jericho was straitly shut up because of the children of Israel: none went out, and none came in. And the Lord said unto Joshua, See, I have given unto thine hand Jericho, and the king thereof, and the mighty men of valor." Even where men had failed him he gave them victory. Joshua 8:1-2, "And the Lord said unto Joshua, Fear not, neither be thou dismayed: take all the people of war with thee, and arise, go up to Ai: see, I have given into thy hand the king of Ai, and his people, and his city, and his land; and thou shalt do to Ai and her king as thou didst unto Jericho and her king: only the spoil thereof, and the cattle thereof, shall ye take for a prey unto yourselves: lay thee an ambush for the city behind it." Even where the forces were combined against them it made no difference. Joshua 10:8, "And the Lord said unto Joshua, Fear them not: for I have delivered them into thine hand; there shall not a man of them stand before thee." So it is with us. God has promised to deliver us, and over our sinful nature, the atmosphere of the world, sins encouraged and sins committed, we may expect a complete victory. Everything is at man's disposal if only God is with him. In connection with the children of Israel even the day was made longer that they might fight their battles. Joshua 10:12-14, "Then spake Joshua to the Lord in the day when the Lord delivered up the Amorites before the children of Israel, and he said in the sight of Israel, Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon; and thou, Moon, in the valley of Ajalon. And the sun stood still, and the moon stayed, until the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies. Is not this written in the book of Jasher? So the sun stood still in the midst of heaven, and hasted not to go down about a whole day. And there was no day like that before it, or after it, that the Lord hearkened unto the voice of a man: for the Lord fought for Israel." The weak were made strong that the enemy might not triumph over them. "If God be for us who can be against us?" In this struggle with the Amorites Israel won the day. III The victory of the Israelites over the Amorites was like the general deliverance which God has given us from the power of sin, but there are certain sins which may pursue us, and from these we ought to be set free. When the children of Israel started from Egypt and had passed through the Red Sea certain of the Egyptians started after them, the waters of the Sea came together and they were put to death. The next day the Israelites camped upon the shore and they could easily go back. Doubtless more than one could say as he turned over the body of a dead man to see his face, "Why, this is my old tax master who used to beat me. He will never have power over me again." Is such a deliverance as this from individual sins possible? I think it is. I can think of five sins which stand in the way of men and which maybe likened to the five kings shut up in the cave. First: Sinful imagination or secret sins. I doubt not but that almost every one whose eyes may light upon this sentence has been guilty at this point. He may have said again and again, "I will never do this thing again," and he has put the king into the cave and rolled the stone against the door. Second: Impurity. It may be that some one who reads this sentence will plead guilty at this point, and he may have said, "This sin which is now my defeat began with only a suggestion of evil which I encouraged; but I will never be guilty again," and he puts the sin into the cave and rolls the stone against the door. Third: Intemperance, not simply in the matter of drinking strong drink, but it may be intemperance in the matter of dress, or eating, or pleasure; in other words, it is the lack of self-control. This has been the defeat of more men than one, and as you stop and think you say, "I will never lose control of myself again," and you put the sin within the cave and roll the stone against the door. Fourth: Dishonesty; not simply in what you do but in what you say, for one may be dishonest in speech as well as in appropriating that which does not belong to him. If you should be condemned just here and have determined never to fail again at this point, by an act of your will you consign this king to the cave and close up the entrance. Five: Unbelief, which is the greatest sin of all and is the last and greatest sin to be put into the cave. As a result of such an action there may be temporary relief, but not permanent, for the kings may break away from the cave and organize their forces against you once more and you go down. Here comes in the power of the text. Bring the kings out, every one of them, and put your feet upon their necks and stand in all your right and dignity as Christian men, and expect deliverance not so much because of what you are but because of the fact that from the days of the first sin it has been said, "The seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head." Near Toledo, Ohio, there used to live an old doctor noted for his infidelity. He was violent in his opposition to the church. One day he called Robert Ingersoll to the town where he lived and paid him two hundred dollars, that he might by means of his lecture break up the revival meeting. Everybody was afraid of him. He heard of an old preacher back in the country who was a stranger to the schools but not a stranger to God, and he asked his friends to make it possible for him to meet him. Finally they met, and the infidel with a sneer said, "So you believe the Bible, do you?" and he said, "Yes, sir; do you?" "And you believe in God, do you?" and he said, "Yes, sir." "Well, I want you to understand that I am an infidel, and believe none of these things." The old minister looked at him and said simply, "Well, is that anything to be proud of?" and it was an arrow that went straight through the unbeliever. He went back to his office and began to think it over. "Anything to be proud of," he said, and he finally realized that he was not in a favorable position. Then he thought of an old Christian he knew and said, "If I could be such a Christian as that I would come to Christ." He went to tell the minister, and the minister said to him, "Get down on your knees and tell God so," and he began to tell him, then broke down and sobbed out his confession of sin. His cry for deliverance was heard, and he rose up a free man in Christ Jesus. From that day till this he has been freed from every one of his sins, is preaching the Gospel and counts it his highest joy to contribute in every possible way to the enlargement of the bounds of the Kingdom of God. So there is deliverance from every form of sin if we will but move in God's way. DEFINITENESS OF PURPOSE IN CHRISTIAN WORK TEXT: "_Salute no man by the way._"--Luke 10:4. Luke is the only one of the Evangelists giving us the account of the sending out of the seventy. The others tell us that Christ called certain men unto him and commissioned them to tell his story; but in this instance after Jesus had said, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head," he calls the seventy and sends them forth prepared to endure any sacrifice or suffer any affliction if only they may do his will. And when he had said unto another, "Follow me," but he answered, "Suffer me first to go and bury my father," Jesus said unto him (Luke 9:60-62), "Let the dead bury their dead; but go thou and preach the kingdom of God. And another also said, Lord, I will follow thee; but let me first go bid them farewell which are at home at my house. And Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." From this expression of the Master we quite understand that no other service, however important it may seem to us, is to come between us and our devotion to him. And in the expression concerning the man having put his hand to the plow and looking back we have one of the strongest illustrations that Jesus ever used. He does not say that if any one puts his hand to the plow and turns back to some other form of service he is not fit for the Kingdom of God, but what he says is this: If any man has his hands to the plow and simply looks back he is not fit for the Kingdom; and this for two reasons: First: Because no man could plow as he ought to unless he would keep his eyes straight ahead of him, and Second: No man could plow if he has his mind fixed upon something else. Jesus wants his disciples to know that his work is the important work, that nothing can surpass it. Not only is it wrong for us to turn away from him to any other service but it is a sin even to take our eyes off of him to gaze upon anything else. Under such sharp teaching as this he sends forth the seventy. Let it be noted, first, that he sent them forth two by two. Perhaps one was sent because he was strong in the opposite direction from his fellow laborer. Who knows but one could speak and the other could sing? Certainly one was the complement of the other. And they went forth with burning hearts to give the message of Jesus. That illustration in the New Testament where four men brought the sick man to Jesus is along the same line. Two men might have failed utterly, three men would have found it difficult service, for four men it was easy. I once made my way into the office of a doctor to ask him to come to Christ. The meetings were in progress in the church and I thought he was interested. He received me kindly, but firmly declined even to talk of Christ and I left him, utterly discouraged. The next night the man gave his heart to Christ, and for this reason, I believe. We had made him in a little company of church officers a subject of prayer, and you cannot pray earnestly for one for any length of time without speaking to him concerning his soul's salvation. Without having had a conference four men determined to see the doctor, and they all called upon him within two hours of time. When the first came he laughed at him; when the second came his prominence in the business world at least commanded the doctor's respect; when the third came, having driven four miles in from the country, he began to be interested; and with the coming of the fourth there was awakened in him a deep conviction. He closed his office, went to his home and before the evening hour of service came had accepted Christ. We have practically the same commission as the seventy. "As the Father hath sent me even so send I you," said Jesus to us. These conditions are as true to-day as in those days in the work of the seventy. The harvest is great. There possibly never has been a time when more people are absenting themselves from the church than at the present time. These men and women are fit subjects for the Gospel. The seventy went as the messengers of peace, so may we go. There are troubled hearts all about us, there are those who are in despair, men and women who are saying, "Peace, peace," when there is no peace, while ours is the very message of peace. Jesus said to them, "Carry neither purse nor scrip nor shoes," for their dependence was upon him. So must it be to-day. Not upon method nor upon skill must we depend, nor upon the schemes of men, however successful they may have been in the past, but upon him. In those days the men were sick and troubled, in these days they are dead in sins and as his messengers we carry the message of love. I This expression of the text meant very much to the Oriental, for as a matter of fact the salutation of the Eastern people frequently took a half an hour of time, and sometimes an hour would be consumed. They touched their turbans, fell upon their knees, saluted one another with a holy kiss, talked together concerning their own interests. These things were a part of the salutation. Jesus says to the seventy, "Salute no man as you go." They were not bidden to be impolite--this is farthest from the spirit of the Christian--yet they were commissioned to be about the king's business and the king's business required haste. The idea of the text is that there must be definiteness of purpose in Christian work. When Elisha kept his eyes fixed upon Elijah there came to him as the result the mantle of Elijah and he was clothed with power. When Gehazi followed Elisha's command and as he went to the home of the Shunammite saluted no one he became the forerunner of life to the child. And when Paul said, "This one thing I do," and nothing could swerve him from his path of duty, he became the mightiest preacher in the world's history since Christ. But let it not be thought for a moment that we are advocating a gloomy religion; far from it. I like the story of the little girl who went one day into her grandfather's room to ask him to read to her and found him asleep with his head upon the back of the chair, his Bible upon his knees and the sunlight coming through the window at the proper angle to cast about him a halo of glory, and she ran to her mother saying, "I have been in grandpa's room and I have seen God." If as a Christian the people of the world can have any thought other than this, that we at times at least remind them of Christ, something is wrong with our Christian experience. There were two sides to the experience of Jesus. In one we see him at the wedding rejoicing with those that did rejoice, making wine out of water and contributing to the happiness of all those who were present. In the other instance we see him upon the mountain side and crying out, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem!" with an almost breaking heart. When Charles G. Finney was in Utica there came down to see him a woman who was concerned for the town in which she lived. She returned to her home and through days and nights found it impossible either to eat or to sleep because she realized the lost condition of those about her. At last when she was so weak that she could not pray, she had rest only when those about her prayed for her. When Mr. Finney reached that town one of the greatest revivals in his history as an evangelist was the result. I was one day engaged with other pastors in an eastern city in a Gospel campaign. The ministers were preaching in turn each day and when it came my time to preach I could find in all the audience scarcely one of my people. Up to that day the interest had been remarkable, but somehow from that day on, although people had been converted by the hundred, there was no perceptible spiritual impression. When the meetings had closed one of the prominent society leaders of my church came to explain to me why she was away from the service and she said, "I gave my afternoon reception and the people of our church were there." When I told her that I felt that as a result of that afternoon reception our own church had lost a blessing she seemed utterly amazed; and yet to this day I am firmly persuaded that hundreds of people might have come to Christ if we had not in that day grieved the Spirit. II The text means that those of us who are Christians shall show by our very faces that we are on the king's business and that it is solemn business. One day a man knocked at the door of my study, was admitted, sat down on the couch in the room and began to sob. He did not need to tell me why he had come. I knew, but finally when he sobbed it out this was his message: "I have come to ask you to bury my wife, and to ask if you will not go with me to comfort the children, for they are heartbroken." I knew by the very look of his face that he had lost a loved one. Do you think for a moment that those who gaze at us would imagine that we had the least conviction that people away from Christ were lost? I am sure they would not. The text also means that we shall be desperately in earnest. A father and his boy heard a minister preach a sermon on the judgment and as they went to their home the father said, "My boy, it was a great sermon and you must think about it." And the boy did. He made his way to his room and threw himself on his bed only to hear his father downstairs laughing and singing; and he said to himself, "It is not true, for if my father believed I was in danger of the judgment he could not laugh and he would not sing." That day was the turning point in the boy's life. He became a man of renown but never a believer in Jesus Christ as we accept him. The text also indicates how we should pray, with an eye single to his glory but with a purpose that cannot be shaken. Pray as the Shunammite prayed, pray as the woman besought the unjust judge; such prayer brings victory. III Did you ever realize that you were standing in the way of the conversion of your friends? How about your living? If your testimony rings anything else than true to Christ you are a stumbling block in the way of some one. How about your testimony? In the meetings to which I referred there came a young woman one day evidently greatly moved. First one pastor would speak to her and then another, and finally I was given the privilege. For a long time I could not understand her words for her sobs and then she said, "I am a Christian, a member of one of the churches in this movement. I have been engaged to a young man for the last three years. He was not a Christian. Three weeks ago he was taken ill and a week ago he died. In all the time that I knew him I never spoke to him about Christ. I do not know that he even knew that I was a Christian, and now," she said, with a heart which seemed to be literally crushed, "he has gone and I never warned him." And the text means that no one could come within the reach of our influence without having at least a suggestion made by ourselves to them that we are the followers of Christ and that we long to have them know him who means so much to us. THE MORNING BREAKETH TEXT: "_Watchman, what of the night? The watchman said, The morning cometh, and also the night._"--Isaiah 21:11-12. It is very interesting to note that, whether we study the Old Testament or the New, nights are always associated with God's mornings. In other words, he does not leave us in despair without sending to us his messengers of hope and cheer. The Prophet Isaiah in this particular part of his prophecy seems to be almost broken-hearted because of the sin of the people. As one of the Scotch preachers has put it, he has practically sobbed himself to sleep. A great shadow has fallen upon the people of God and he is in despair because of it. They have sown to the wind and now they are reaping the whirlwind, a result which is inevitable. They are away from Zion with its temple, and are deprived of the view of those mountains which are round about Jerusalem and to this day are clad with vines and olive trees. They are in captivity and are the abject slaves of the enemies of God. Isaiah's heart is well-nigh crushed, but in the midst of the despair he has a vision of the chariots coming and hears a cry which rejoices his soul, "Babylon is fallen." It is because of these tidings that he cries out in the words of the text. What a night they had had of it! They had been in darkness that was ever increasing, and the song of thanksgiving which used to fill their souls because of the nearness of Jehovah had entirely departed from them. The figure of the watchman is often used in the Bible, as for example when he stands upon the city walls and is told that if he sounds the trumpet telling of the approach of the enemy and the people hear and do not take warning their blood is upon their own heads, while if he fails to sound the trumpet and the people are cut off, their blood is required at the watchman's hand. And again in the first chapter of Zechariah the eighth to the eleventh verses, "I saw by night, and behold a man riding upon a red horse, and he stood among the myrtle trees that were in the bottom; and behind him were there red horses, speckled and white. Then said I, O my Lord, what are these? And the angel that talked with me said unto me, I will shew thee what these be. And the man that stood among the myrtle trees answered and said, These are they whom the Lord hath sent to walk to and fro through the earth. And they answered the angel of the Lord that stood among the myrtle trees, and said, We have walked to and fro through the earth, and behold all the earth sitteth still and is at rest." For here the man standing in the midst of the myrtle trees is him of whom the prophets did speak, while the messengers are those who bring him tidings of the progress of his kingdom. But again where David comes to the watch tower and sees the two messengers running, the second one bringing him tidings of the death of his son, and from this watch tower he staggers back again to his room crying out, "O Absalom, my son, would God I had died for thee!" The poet usually sings of the night as a time of beauty. He sings of the moon and the stars; but in the Bible night always stands for that which is dark, foul, loathsome, sinful, cold and deadly. There are different nights mentioned in the Scripture, for the most part in the Old Testament. There was that night in Eden when sin blinded the eyes of Adam and Eve and a great darkness fell round about them. There was the night of the flood, all because the people had neglected God; and there was the night of the destroying angel passing over the cities of Egypt, all because of the indifference of those who knew not God. But even in these nights God does not leave his people without help, for in Eden we read, "The seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head"; while in the flood behold the Ark; and in the Passover night we see the blood of the Paschal lamb sprinkled upon the lintels of the door. There are different mornings mentioned in the Scriptures, and as a rule we find them in the New Testament. The morning of his birth. The morning of his resurrection. The morning of his miracle when the empty nets are filled and the discouraged fishermen are made to rejoice. The morning of his return, when, after the rising of the morning star, an endless day of blessing shall be ushered in. It used to be the custom in Scotland, especially in Aberdeen, for the night watchman of the city guard as he paced the streets to cry aloud, "Twelve o'clock and the night is dark; one o'clock and the storm is heavy," and the restless sleeper would toss upon his pillow and listen for the tidings of the morning hour, "Two o'clock and the morning is starry." It is in this spirit that we listen to-day to the cry of the watchman when he declares, "The morning cometh and also the night." I We are in a sense in the night in these days, even though we are Christians. First: Because of the existence of sin. It is everywhere, in the heart as a mighty principle of evil pulling us down as the law of gravitation pulls material substances toward the earth's center. In the life as shown by our habits and practices, for these are the fruits of sin. In the very air we breathe sin is manifest, and sin has brought the night. Second: I sometimes think that the darkness is increasing because as ministers we fail to preach concerning sin. We speak of it as an error or a mistake; we talk about the devil and call him his Satanic majesty; we preach about hell and call it the lost world, while it is true that in the olden days when men trembled under the word of the preacher the man of God spoke of the devil and hell and sin in all their awfulness. But the morning cometh, for while it is true that sin is in the world and it has gripped many of us, yet because of Christ's death upon the cross we are free from the penalty of sin; we may be free from the power of sin, for the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus sets us free from the law of sin and death; we may be free from the practice of sin, for Christ is the secret of our deliverance. But the text tells us that while the morning cometh the night also appears. And so for those of us whose lives have been such a struggle we cry, "Is there no deliverance?" and I answer, yes, we shall one day be free from the presence of sin; and that will be at his return when we shall see him and be like him, and the new day which is never to close shall be upon us. Third: We are in the night because of the existence of sorrow. Next to sin this is the greatest fact in the world, for men are born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward. And somehow the morning and the night as they are fastened together in this text present to us the story of our lives, for we are first in the morning when everything seems peaceful, and almost immediately in the night when we are really in despair. I journeyed from Naples to Rome over a fine piece of railway and found myself now in the darkness of a tunnel and almost immediately rushing out onto a fertile plain. That railroad is the story of many a life. But "Is there no deliverance that is complete?" and I answer, yes, there is a time coming when there shall be no sea and no tears and no night, for the former things are passed away. Fourth: We are in the night because of mystery. Life is full of questions. "Why must I have this trial or pain or trouble?" So many of us are asking these questions, and there is really no answer, at least none for the present. And yet God has not deceived us, for he has said, "What I do thou knowest not now but thou shalt know hereafter." He tells us that when we see him we shall know, but also declares that no one can see his face and live; and then, said the sainted Augustine, "Let me die that I may see him." It is true that we shall go on from light into darkness, from morning into the night, but is there no final deliverance? And I answer, yes, when we see him and become like him we shall know as we are known. Let us wait and believe until that day. Have you ever seen a perfect rainbow--that is, a rainbow in a perfect circle? I never have. The most perfect one I have ever seen was on the plains of Jericho, but it was a half circle. However, in the Revelation we are told that in that day there shall be a rainbow round about the throne, when half circles shall be made whole and half things shall be made complete; that is the morning for which we long. II But there is another suggestion, "the morning cometh and also the night." There is the thought of the transition from the one to the other. We certainly have been in the night so far as our living is concerned and our working, but now I feel sure there is coming a change and we are living in a critical time. May God help us to be faithful. All truth is like a cycle and at different points in the circumference there are truths which must be especially emphasized. The late A. J. Gordon once preached a sermon on the "Recurrence of Doctrine," in which he stated that while in one day justification by faith was the prominent truth for the church, in another sanctification was prominent, in still another the return of the Lord, and in still another the doctrine of the Holy Spirit. All this I firmly believe and it only proves to me that the prominent truth for to-day is every man for his neighbor, every friend for his friend, every parent for his child, the individual seeking the individual for Christ. God is calling us to action; let us not fail. I have a friend who used to use an illustration of a sea captain, his first mate and his wife wrecked upon a rocky shore, huddled together upon a rock out from the shore but too far for them to escape by throwing themselves into the waves. The life-line is shot out to them and the captain puts it round his first mate and bids him jump and he is drawn to the shore in safety. Then he put the cord around the waist of his wife, but the current is running in such a way that she must spring at just the proper second or she will be thrown back against the rocks and be killed. And he shouts to her, "Spring!" but she waited to kiss him and waited too long, sprang into the sea and was thrown back against the rock and drawn shoreward lifeless. Whether that story is true or not I cannot say, but it is an illustration of the present day to me. God is saying, "Now is the day of opportunity." May he pity us if we fail! III While all that has been said is true concerning the morning of the Eternal Day, in another sense it is true that already a brighter day is breaking. First: A better day for Bible study. This old Book which people have feared was going to pass away is better to-day than ever. It is the object of deeper affection, and there is no question but that more people are believing in it to-day as the inspired Word of God than for years; and all because they have tested it and it has stood the test. Second: A better day of prayer is dawning. Fifty thousand people in Great Britain are banded together to pray and to pray until the blessing comes if that be for years. Oh, that God would teach us to pray! We do not half understand what it means to ask God for blessings. A story of prayer which would seem impossible if I did not know it to be true, for I have friends who have been in the town where it occurred and have met the descendants of the old sea captain, is the story of the captain who took his boy and others to fish and in the midst of the hurricane the boy was washed over board. Broken-hearted, he returned to the shore and the fisher wife, as was her custom, came down to meet them, only to sob her way back to her home because her boy was gone. They spent the night in the kirk in prayer, when the minister said, "Why not ask God to restore his body?" and they did. They put out to sea and journeyed sixty miles until he told them to stop and when they let over the grappling hooks they knew by the very tug of the rope that they had his body. They bore it back again to the broken-hearted captain and his wife, who had all the time been waiting in the kirk in prayer. May God teach us how to pray! A brighter day is dawning, and while it may be that some of us cannot see it, while there may be skeptics who say it is not exactly true, yet I know from what I have seen myself that the darkness is passing away. In June, 1897, the steamer Catalonia at ten o'clock at night was found to be on fire. One of my friends has told me that he paced the deck and considered himself lost because the flames were burning fiercely. Finally the fire was under control and the people sang, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow." Telling me of the lessons that he learned on this awful journey, he said: "That night at twelve o'clock, when the pumps were being forced and the clouds of smoke were taking on new dimensions and we were wondering what the morning would bring us, the man on the bridge shouted, as he had at each midnight of the trip, 'Eight bells, all's well!'" Had the man down in a stateroom watching by the side of his sick wife heard the words, he might have said, "It's a falsehood," but that man's vision was restricted by the narrow walls of his stateroom. Had the mother and daughter, sitting in the cabin, with their arms about each other, wondering why they had been allowed to sail on the Catalonia and leave their loved ones behind, heard it, they might have said, "The man is beside himself," but they could not see beyond the cabin. Had the lonely traveler who stood near the hatchway given it a thought he might have said, "It's a lie," but he could not see through the clouds of smoke at which he stared silently. But the vision of the watch swept the horizon, and there was no obstruction in the ship's path. He knew that each revolution of the Catalonia's machinery pushed the ship on her way to Queenstown. He had a right to say it. I somehow seem to hear the sound of the goings in the tops of the trees and have evidence that God is coming to his church with blessing. It is true there is in some quarters indifference, in many places worldliness, but I can see no insurmountable barrier in the way of the progress of the Kingdom of God. AN OBSCURED VISION (Preached at the opening of the Winona Lake Bible Conference.) TEXT: "_Where there is no vision, the people perish._"--Proverbs 29:18. It is not altogether an easy matter to secure a text for such an occasion as this; not because the texts are so few in number but rather because they are so many, for one has only to turn over the pages of the Bible in the most casual way to find them facing him at every reading. Feeling the need of advice for such a time as this, I asked a number of my friends who knew me intimately and knew the occasion which was before me to suggest what in their minds would be an appropriate Scripture, and in their suggestions I have had the most singular indication of the leading of Providence. One said, "Use Hosea 5:4, where God in speaking concerning his people Israel says, 'They will not frame their doings,'" which means that his people would not set before themselves the way in which they were going; or it might mean that they would not set up a plan for their lives which would be according to his will and which he might bring on to completion. Another said, "Use Genesis 26:18," where we are told that Isaac digged again the wells of his father Abraham. This is a suggestive incident and has in it a message for to-day, for if there is one thing needed more than another it is that the old wells at which our fathers drank and were refreshed and which, alas! in these modern times have been filled in, at least to a certain extent, should be opened and men be summoned once again to drink of their living waters. Another said, "Use Jeremiah 6:16, 'Ask for the old paths;'" for as a matter of fact we cannot improve upon the ways in which our fathers walked, so far as the revelation of God is concerned or the doing of his will. Still another suggested that I should use Isaiah 62:10, "Gather out the stones, lift up a standard for the people," in which the description is of a great prince coming and all hindrances should be removed that the journey might be robbed of its difficulties and dangers. You will notice if you have watched the suggestions of these Christian workers that the texts are practically all the same, and then when I tell you that the line of thought they have indicated was the very line which God suggested to me weeks and months before the conference you will be impressed as I have been that this subject is not of my own choosing, and therefore must be a message from God. Neither is the text one of my own choosing, for God pressed it in upon me again and again and from it I was afraid to turn away. I like the text because it is in the book of Proverbs. This book is not simply a collection of wise sayings and affectionate exhortations, for you will remember that the Proverbs were put down after the event and not before its occurrence. This being true, Proverbs presents an established fact: here we find what the wise men in all the ages have learned to be truth. If they speak of sin and its penalty they do it in the light of their own experience; if they say the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge they mean that they have tried other sources of wisdom and all have failed but this. All this makes the text exceedingly valuable, for the wise men of other days must have tried to walk without the vision and not only failed themselves but have set the people astray. By a vision we do not mean simply an imagination or dream which might come to some person who had little practical understanding of the ways of life, but we mean an appreciation of God's thought and approximate understanding of his plan and a desire to know his will. The word "perish," does not mean destruction, but rather the idea is to "run wild"; so the literal rendering of the text is, "Where there is no revelation the people run wild"--that is to say, if God is put out of thought every man is a law unto himself and therefore is dangerous to the community in which he lives. He is like a ship sailing for a harbor without chart or compass and with utter indifference to the pole star. Whatever your impressions, convictions or purposes, they should always be squared by reverent, careful and profound study of God's will and word. The first sentence of the Bible is this, "In the beginning God," and it must be the first sentence of every plan and of every purpose of the individual and the community or there is danger ahead. I There ought never to be an age without a vision, indeed without repeated visions. If there should be such a time it might be a time of prosperity, but inevitably souls would be neglected. There ought not to be an individual without a vision. If there should be such an one he is missing the best of his life. If there be no vision the horizon of man may be bounded by his office, his store, his home, his own city or his native land, while as a matter of fact this is only a part of what God meant him to do and to be. God's plans are from everlasting to everlasting. The wonderful work he is doing in this world is only a part of the plan, for in the ages to come he expects to show forth the manysidedness of his grace and reveal to us the depth of his love to us in Christ. John McNeill's friend had an eagle which he had reared in the farm yard with the ordinary fowl that lived there. This friend sold his property and determined to move to another part of Scotland. He could dispose of his horses and sell his chickens but no one wanted the eagle. What should he do with it? He determined to teach it to fly, and threw it up in the air only to have it come down with a thud upon the ground. Then he lifted it and placed it upon the barn yard fence and was holding it for a moment when suddenly the eagle lifted its eyes and caught a glimpse of the sun. It stretched forth its head as far as it could, threw out one wing, then another, and with a scream and a bound was away flying upward until it was lost in the face of the sun. This is what we are needing to-day--namely, to lift up our eyes and see God's plan and try to understand his purposes. The eagle so long had held its head down that it had lost the vision of the sun; the first glimpse of it set him free. What we mean by a vision, therefore, is an appreciation of God's purposes and plans and a hearty yielding to him for service in the accomplishment of the same. Joseph Cook when he was making a plea for China's millions said one day, "Put your ear down to the ground and listen and you will hear the tramp, tramp, tramp of four hundred millions of weary feet." I have to say this morning, Lift up your eyes and look, open your ears and listen and you will both see and hear that God has a great plan for us which he will reveal to all if only we will permit him to do so. In proportion as a people loses its faith in a revelation from God it falls into decay. The student of history recalls vividly the story of the French Revolution, which is a proof of this statement. God has always spoken concerning his plans and it has been to living men and women that he has granted visions. He came to Abraham and he saw Christ's day and was glad: he visited Moses and he endured as seeing him who is invisible: he was lifted up before Isaiah and he first confessed his sin and shame, then cried, "Here am I, send me." He granted Saul of Tarsus a vision of himself as he approached Damascus until he cried, "Who art thou?" and then began to walk in fellowship with him until like the hero that he was he mounted from the Eternal City to that City which has foundations whose Builder and Maker is God. He stood before John as in apocalyptic vision he saw him with his head and his hair, white like wool, as white as snow and his eyes as a flame of fire. But if you should say, "Oh, yes, but this is in Bible times and we are living in a different age," then hear me when I say that he has come to living men and women in our own day with a revelation of his will. He spoke to Zinzendorf and we have a mighty work among the Moravians. He revealed himself to the Wesleys and we have the mighty movement of Methodism. He talked with Edwards and we have the great Revival of New England. He revealed himself to Finney and we have the great manifestation of power in the state of New York. He walked and talked with Moody and we have the greatest evangelistic work of his day and generation with Moody as his instrument. These were all men with visions. He has come to great missionaries like Paton who saw the New Hebrides Islands evangelized while yet they sat in darkness, because he saw God. He has spoken to our own Fulton in China, who writes that the people are flocking to Christ. To him it is no surprise, for he knew that they would do it while others were still skeptical. He knew it because he knew God. Let us remember that, however true it may be that God speaks in conscience, providence, through the church and by the preaching of his Word, his supreme revelation is in his own Word. This Book contains the revealed will of God and this Book is his Word. II Why are we not having revelations to-day as we know they have been given at other times? Why is not some one in our own land especially working out some of the great plans and purposes of God? The question is easily answered. The difficulty is not with God. He is the same forever. We alone must be at fault. Without any spirit of harsh criticism and with a prayer to God that he will make my spirit as he would have it, permit me to say that I fear the visions are not being given to us for the following reasons: First: Because of the disrespect shown to his Son. We have come to a time when men seek to limit his knowledge, and occasionally they are saying that he did not know concerning the things of which he spake. Such blasphemy makes us shudder. There is a disposition to misinterpret his teaching. They did it in Paul's day and he spoke by inspiration when he said, "If any man present another gospel than that which I have presented let him be accursed." There is a disposition to rob him of his deity. "Is Jesus divine?" was the question asked not long ago of one who called himself a minister, and he answered, "Yes, in the sense that Buddha is divine or Confucius is divine." Our faces grow white with fear as we listen to such blasphemous statements in such an age as this. This helps to overcast the sky and God can hardly trust us with a vision in such an atmosphere. Second: An irreverent criticism of the Word of God. That there is a reverent criticism all will allow, and that many who are walking these paths are devout believers in God and in his word I would like to be among the first to acknowledge. There are three kinds of critics to-day. First: Those who honestly want the best and who are studying carefully and prayerfully to know the truth. Second: Those who ape scholarship. Third: Those whose lives may not be right, and for them if any part of the Bible could be cut away they would be less condemned. We need not fear, however; our Bible is not in danger, for this is largely a question of scholarship. Some of you who listen to me may not class yourselves as scholars. I certainly do not put myself in that company, but one thing I know: I have seen the Bible work as no other book has ever worked, and I have seen Jesus Christ save miraculously multitudes of poor lost sinners. I am not disturbed for the future; there are as great scholars as the world has ever known who still hold to your mother's Bible and who have lost not one whit of confidence in it. Thomas Newberry, a devout English student, spent fifty years in study to give the world his Newberry Bible. He said, "I accept the theory of the plenary inspiration of the Scriptures. I have studied every 'jot and tittle' of the Word of God and after these fifty years I see no reason for changing my position." Scholars' names almost without number could be mentioned as believing in the Scriptures as the divinely inspired Word of God. For myself I would have great assurance in standing side by side with Dr. Paton, and I would not think of trembling so long as our sainted Dr. Moorehead walks courageously along life's journey as he nears its end with faith in God's Word unshaken, with confidence in God's Son constantly growing. This blessed old Book has been railed at in all the ages. Men have professed to overthrow it, they have cut and slashed at it like Jehoiakim of old, but it is better than ever to-day. It is the Word of God. Heaven and earth may pass away but this Word, never. Not long ago I attended a conference of Christian workers and was told by one of them that I could not appreciate the Bible except I read it with the thought of literary criticism in mind. My friend interpreted a portion of the Word of God for me in this way and it was beautiful. It reminded me of nothing so much as a diamond perfectly cut, kissed by the sunlight and throwing back its sparkling light to me as I gazed upon it. Another said that I would never be able to understand the Bible until I read it from the standpoint of the elocutionist in the best use of that expression, and he read in my hearing the story of Joseph and his brethren and I felt that I myself had never read the Bible before and really had never heard it read. Still another came with his higher criticism and said that much of the Bible was mythical, that the stories I had loved were simply allegorical; and I listened to him and went back to my Bible to read, only to find that you may read it any way, spell it out in your youth letter by letter, read it through your tears as you reach middle life and your heart is aching, hold it against your heart when your eyes are too dim to read its pages, and it will yield to you a sweetness which is actually beyond the power of man to describe. This is a wonderful Book and in this Book God reveals himself. Handle it irreverently and you will have no vision. Third: It seems to me that the church is not what she ought to be, and this being true the vision is denied. One of my friends said the other day that the difficulty with the church is that she has lost her interrogation point. At the day of Pentecost people were saying, "What do these things mean?" To-day they never think of saying it. I have been told in a little pamphlet issued by an English writer that the church has lost her possessive case, which means that somehow she has gone on without realizing that the risen, glorified Christ is her blessed Lord. It is a great thing to say "Jesus"; infinitely greater is it to say "My Jesus." The church has lost her imperative mode. In days that are past it was possible for the church to stand in the presence of evil and say, "In the name of Almighty God this iniquity must stop." But to-day it is not possible. The church has lost her present tense. We are constantly looking for blessings in the future. God's promises are all written for the present. It is to the church on fire that God grants a vision. Fourth: Some of the difficulty must rest with us as ministers of the Gospel. I fear that some of us have lost our message. It has loosened its grip upon us, and you never can move another man until you are first moved yourself by the message you would give to him. At a great gathering not long ago I heard a distinguished Eastern professor speaking. The topic of his lecture was "My Foster Children," and these foster children were some animals which he had had as pets, whose habits he had carefully studied. One was a Gila monster from the plains of Arizona, another was a horned owl, the third was a rat, and the fourth was an opossum. If you can imagine more uninteresting subjects than these you are more imaginative than myself, and yet he thrilled me and held three thousand people in breathless interest. Oh, my brethren, if I believe in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and as a Savior able not only to save to the uttermost but to keep through eternity, and that message grips me, I am a poor preacher if I fail with it to grip and move other men. I fear we have lost our boldness. I am a minister of the glorious Gospel of the grace of God and I have a right to demand a hearing and to give my message, not because of what I am myself--God forbid--but because of what my Savior is. Some of us have lost our passion for souls; we mourn over it, we know that when we once had this it was the secret of a successful ministry. It is not wrong for me to say to you this morning that to the minister without a message, to the minister who has lost his holy boldness, to the minister who has anything less than a burning passion for souls, God cannot give his vision. III I know that I have your deepest sympathy in the longing which I now express for this great gathering--namely, that God would give to us a vision. First: As to what the Bible really is. One of my friends told me the other day of a blind girl who could not read because she had been too busy and somehow had not thought that she could use the raised letters which have been such a boon to God's blind children. I am told she learned that she might read while on these grounds last summer. It was made possible later on for her to have a teacher and she began to study little books until she could read quite fluently. One day unknown to her there was brought into her home a Bible with raised letters and without telling what the book was it was opened at the fourteenth chapter of John and she was bidden to read in it. She had no sooner touched the page, her fingers enabling her to read, "Let not your heart be troubled, ye believe in God, believe also in me," than with radiant face she exclaimed, "Why this is God's Word; the very touch of it is different." I would that we might have this vision. Second: I wish that we might have a vision of Christ. He is the chiefest among ten thousand, and the one altogether lovely. He is a mighty Savior and a mighty helper. I cannot bring him a burden too great, nor talk to him about a trial too insignificant. Oh, that we might see him as he is! And finally, I wish that we might know what service is, for knowing this we would be instant in season and out of season. Some years ago Fannie Crosby, the blind hymn writer, was speaking in one of the missions in New York City. Suddenly she stopped and said, "I wonder if there is not some wandering boy in this audience this evening who would have the courage to step out from this audience and come up and stand by my side so that I might put my arms around him and kiss him for his mother?" There was a hush upon the audience; then a boy from the rear seat started and came to the platform, and with her arms around about him and her lips against his cheek for his mother's sake, Fannie Crosby said, "Oh, my friends, let us rescue the perishing." From this meeting she went to her home, and sitting in her room wrote: "Rescue the perishing, Care for the dying, Snatch them in pity from sin and the grave, Weep o'er the erring one, Lift up the fallen, Tell them of Jesus, the Mighty to save." Years afterward she spoke in St. Louis at a great meeting and related this incident. Before she had finished a man in the audience sprang to his feet and said, "Miss Crosby, listen to me. I am a prosperous merchant in this city, a husband and a father, a Christian and an officer in the church. I was that boy around whom you threw your arms." Such an experience as that is worth a lifetime of service. I wish to put myself on record. I know that many of you are with me. I stand for nothing in these days that would in the least obscure men's vision of the power of God, or their vision of the glorious majesty of the Son of God, and I count nothing worth while except to do that thing which would mean the winning of a soul to Jesus Christ. I believe God is giving to some men in these days a vision as to what may be accomplished if only a mighty work of grace should be given to us. He certainly is ready to pour out his Spirit upon his own people, and it is only necessary that we should first of all realize our weakness, then understand his power, realize that souls are lost and dying and then know that he is able to save to the uttermost; and above all to realize that in all ages he has used human instruments for the accomplishment of his purposes, and realizing these things to see that our lives are right in his sight, to have such a victory for God as the world has never seen. For this day we hope and pray and cry aloud, "O Lord, how long, how long?" THE COMPASSION OF JESUS TEXT: "_But when he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion._"--Matt. 9:36. The keynote of the earthly ministry of Jesus Christ was "compassion." You have but to follow him in his journeys by day and by night to find the proof of this statement. Whether he ministers to the sick of the palsy, turns aside to help the father whose child is dead, heals the woman with the issue of blood, drives away the leprosy from the man dead by law, stops to open the eyes of the blind man by the wayside, helps the beggar or wins the member of the Sanhedrim, he is always the same. If you journey with him in the morning on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, or at noon rest with him as he sits on the well curb of Jacob's well; it you stop with him in the evening as he bares his side and thrusts forth his hand to the doubting Thomas, or behold him as he is roused from his sleep in the boat to quiet the storm; if you study him on the mountain side at midnight or behold him in the garden of Gethsemane when no one beholds his agony but the eye of his Father--you will learn that he was always compassionate. You cannot discover him under any circumstances when this statement is not true of him. This ninth chapter of Matthew is indeed remarkable. It can be appreciated only when we read the closing part of the eighth chapter, for it is here that the people, angry because of the destruction of the swine, besought him to leave their country; and it is here we see him taking his departure. Men have since that time driven him from their hearts and their homes for reasons quite as trifling. It is a sad thing to know that any one can drive him away if he chooses to do so. The chapter is remarkable, however, because here we not only read the story of the calling of Matthew from his position of influence, but find more specific cases of healing than in most other chapters of the New Testament. There is the healing of the sick of the palsy in the second verse, the significant part of which is he was healed when Jesus saw _their_ faith; the picture of the father whose child was dead and then raised by him, in the eighteenth verse and the twenty-fifth verse; the account of the woman with the issue of blood, in the twentieth verse, and the picture of discouragement when all earthly physicians had failed changed into great joy when the virtue of the great physician healed her: the account of the dumb man, in the thirty-second verse, who was possessed of a devil as well; and then in the thirty-fifth verse a general statement concerning him to the effect that he healed all manner of diseases. The chapter is also remarkable because these cases presented to Jesus were of the very worst sort. The man with the palsy could not come himself, however much he wanted to do so, and four men were required to bring him; the child was dead and so beyond all human help; the two blind men were undoubtedly beggars and outcasts; the dumb man was possessed of a devil in addition to his dumbness; the group of people who were subjects of his healing power had every manner of disease, but while the people were different and the cases were desperate, Jesus was always the same. There were six specific illustrations of healing: three of these came to Jesus for themselves, the two blind men and the woman; two others were brought to him, the man sick with the palsy and the man who was dumb; and for the other case the father came and took Jesus to the child. In all the general cases Jesus went himself to the suffering. When all these subjects have been presented then comes the text, which is its own outline. There is first the picture of the multitudes, a great number of people. Then the statement that they had fainted; literally it is, "they were tired." Then they were described as sheep, the only animal known which in its wandering cannot find its way home of itself. And finally it was stated that they had no shepherd, the responsibility for their wandering resting upon others rather than upon themselves. This is the outline of this message. I The picture which Jesus beheld as he walked through his own country is repeated to-day on every side of us, and he is still moved with compassion because of those who are helpless and undone. It is true we have done something for him. The last census shows that the membership of the Protestant churches has increased more rapidly than the population. For this we should be thankful. It is also true that the church machinery of the day is well nigh perfect: the buildings and equipment with which we have to do have never been excelled. Yet, counting the membership of both the Catholic and Protestant churches, there are forty million people to-day in our land who are not in the church and who evidently do not care for the church. With these people there seems to be a growing indifference to everything that is spiritual. A man in an apartment house in New York, when asked the other day to do something for a poor family for the sake of God, answered blasphemously, "I do not care for the opinion of men, I do not even care for God himself; I am for myself first, last and all the time." As we walk the streets we ought to be impressed with the fact that men on every side of us are lost in the proportion of one to four. As we sit in a car we ought to be impressed with the fact that one in four have rejected Christ and are hopeless. In every city it is literally true that there are thousands of unchurched people without God and without hope in the world. Of them the text would be true. "But when he saw the multitudes he was moved with compassion." II When Jesus saw these multitudes he saw them fainting or literally "growing tired," and this is the picture of lost people to-day. I am persuaded that they are tired of many things which follow in the wake of sin. 1. They must be weary of the hollowness of the world, for it cannot satisfy. I one day talked with a woman in Massachusetts whose opportunity to mingle with the so-called best people of the world had been unexcelled. She had been a chosen and welcomed guest in the homes of royalty and knew intimately every President of the United States since she had grown to womanhood. After her conversion I asked her if the life of the world had satisfied; her answer was, "It is hollowness and sham almost from beginning to end." 2. The unchurched people must be weary of an accusing conscience. There is no unrest like it. The man who sees the folly of his conduct and whose conscience will not let him sleep, the man who realizes the blighting power of sin and yet seems powerless to heed the call of conscience, is in a pitiful condition. "And I know of the future judgment, How dreadful so'er it may be, That to sit alone with my conscience Would be judgment enough for me." 3. They must be tired of the world's sorrow, for it is on every side. We are born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward and I cannot but think that in all parts of our cities to-day the people away from Christ are saying, "Oh, that I knew where peace might be found." 4. I know they are tired of the slavery of Satan. A man formerly prominent in social and political circles, the cashier of a bank, when he found that he was a defaulter took his own life and left a letter for his wife in which he said, "Oh, if some one had only spoken to me when I so much needed help all this might have been different." III In the Old Testament and New, God's people are represented by the figure of sheep. Especially it seems to me this must be a good figure, because sheep when wandering find it impossible to seek again for themselves their home, and in their helplessness they fittingly represent the one who wanders away from God. There are so many people to-day who are trying to find their way back without Christ. They are like wandering sheep. There are so many who are seeking to climb up some other way into the favor of God. These are on every side of us, and the time has come for us to present unto them Jesus Christ the Savior of the world. IV These people that Jesus saw were shepherdless. The responsibility for their wandering therefore rested not so much upon themselves as upon the fact that the one who should have cared for them was not doing so. We are our brother's keeper, whether we are willing to acknowledge it or not. In meetings in California one of the ministers went forth during the week to invite those who were away from Christ to come to him. He found an old white-haired soldier who said, "When I was in the army years ago I promised God that I would be a Christian. I have never kept my word. Yes, I will come to him now." And when he came his wife and children came with him. "All these years," he said, "I have waited for some one to ask me." He called upon another man who had been impressed in the meetings and this man acknowledged that he had long felt his need of help, that he had prayed the night before, "O God, if you want me to come to thee send some one to speak to me." When the minister came the man trembled when he said, "You must be the messenger of God for whom I have been waiting," and he came beautifully to Christ. On every side of us people are waiting as sheep without a shepherd for us simply to do our duty. V The result of this vision which Jesus had was that he did an unusual thing. In the tenth chapter and the first verse we read, "And when he had called unto him his twelve disciples he gave them power against unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal all manner of sickness and all manner of disease." Which leads me to say that we must have the same spirit. Our present day church methods reach not more than one-fourth the unsaved and many of these come from the ranks of our Sunday schools and from Christian homes where for one reason or another they have not made a profession of their faith in Christ. Three-fourths of the lost are left to wander farther and farther away simply because they will not yield to our present day church methods. This is not as Jesus would have it. In the twenty-first chapter of John the fifth and sixth verses we read, "Then Jesus saith unto them, Children, have ye any meat? They answered him, No. And he said unto them, Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find. They cast therefore, and now they were not able to draw it for the multitudes of fishes." Although these disciples had toiled and taken nothing the results were all changed when they cast their net on the right side of the boat. May it not be that we have been fishing on the wrong side or fishing in our own strength, or, as some one has said, fishing in too shallow water, when we should have been casting our nets in the deep? The fact is, we need him and without him we can do nothing. I have been told that of the forty distinct cases of healing in the New Testament only six came to Jesus by themselves. Twenty were brought to Jesus and to the fourteen others Jesus was taken. I doubt not that the proportion is the same to-day, and if it is true then our methods of work must be changed and instead of praying for them to seek Jesus we must either take them to Jesus or bring the Master into their company. There can be no successful winning of the multitudes until the personal element enters into it all. 1. There must be prayer. When Jacob went forth to meet Esau he walked with fear and trembling, but in Genesis thirty-second chapter and twenty-eighth verse we read, "And he said, Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel, for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed," so that long before Esau was met victory was won. There must be no attempt to win the lost without first of all we have gained an audience with God in prayer, and if we pray as we ought to pray he will give us the assurance of victory before we start upon our mission. 2. There must be personal contact. It is said that a man recently went into a jewelry store to buy an opal and rejected all that were presented to him. One of them he rejected instantly. The salesman picked it up and closed it in his hand and finally in a casual way opened his hand and placed the opal upon the counter. "Why," said the customer, "that is the opal I want. I have never seen anything finer," and yet he had rejected it first. The salesman told him that it was a sensitive opal and needed the touch of a human hand before it could reveal its beauty. Oh, how many souls there are like this in the world! I have read that when Robert Louis Stevenson visited the island of the lepers where Father Damien did his illustrious work he played croquet with the children, using the same mallets that they used; and when it was suggested that he put gloves upon his hands he refused to do so because, he said, "it will remind them the more of the difference between us." This spirit must prevail in our work if we are to win souls. Two things we may do to reach the lost. (1) Speak to them. The power of human speech is simply marvelous. A Sunday school boy appeared in a Baptist Church to apply for membership and when they asked him about his conversion he said, "My Sunday school teacher took me for a walk one Sunday in Prospect Park and talked with me about Jesus and I gave myself to him." One of the officers of my church when an unsaved man was asked by his minister to attend special services in the church and then was urged by his wife to go with her. Both invitations were angrily declined. He at last agreed to escort her to the church but not to enter in. The biting cold wind of the night drove him into the church and he was just in time to hear the minister's appeal to the unsaved. All were asked to lift their hands who would know Christ and then he remembered that when he was a boy and had been drowning in Lake George he lifted up his hand as high as he could and his brother took hold of it and kept him from sinking. Suddenly it came to him in the church that he was sinking in another way, and instantly he raised his hand and Christ took hold of it. I do not know of a more godly man among all my list of friends than he; and he says to-day that the invitation given to him and refused with anger led him to Christ. (2) Write. The chief justice of the supreme court of a western state was not a Christian until a few years ago. He was a genial, kindly man, and naturally a great lawyer, but he had never confessed Christ as his Savior, and apparently had little real interest in the church. One day the pastor of the Presbyterian church determined that he would write him a letter, and then decided that so great a man would not receive his communication and destroyed it. But the pastor's wife had more faith and urged him to write again. He did so, and sent the second letter and forwarded with it Spurgeon's "All of Grace." He received word almost instantly that the chief justice had been deeply impressed, and that as a matter of fact he was waiting for years for some one to speak to him. The letter moved him and the little book gave him the instructions needed. To-day he is one of the brightest Christians I know. His face is a benediction. He said to me one day that it was a wonderful thing to be a Christian; that he never allowed any one to meet him that he did not talk with him about his soul. Are there not hundreds and thousands of other men waiting, as the chief justice waited, for some one to speak or write? 3. There must be a personal consecration not only to Christ but to the work if we would be successful. The biography of Helen Kellar [Transcriber's note: Keller?], who was released from her imprisonment by the devotion of her teacher, is an illustration along this line. This teacher must go to this girl sitting in darkness and describe to her the commonest objects of every-day life. She told her about water, heat and cold and when something hurt her she told her with the language of touch that she loved her and Helen Kellar [Transcriber's note: Keller?] answered back, "I love you, too." The devotion of this teacher brought this noble soul to light and power. A work like this awaits many of us in bringing the lost to Christ. When Elisha went down to raise the Shunammite's boy he put his eyes to the eyes of the boy, his hands to the boy's hands and his mouth to his mouth. Something like this we must do. We have friends who possess eyes and see not, we must have eyes for them; they have lips and speak not, we must speak to God for them; they have hands and reach them not out after God, and we must have faith for them. In other words, we must not let them go away from Christ. Such a spirit as this pleases God and such a spirit saves our friends. A friend told me that with the ship's surgeon of a vessel he once crossed the sea. He said the doctor told him that one day a boy fell overboard and was rescued but the case seemed hopeless. The ship's surgeon casually passing along the deck said to those who labored with him, "I think you can do nothing more; you have done all that is possible," and then curiosity led him to look at the boy for himself. Instantly his whole spirit was changed. He blew into his nostrils, breathed into his mouth, begged God to spare him, labored for four hours with him before he could bring him back to life, for the boy was his own boy. What if we should not have this spirit with the lost! "If grief in Heaven could find a place, Or shame the worshiper bow down, Who meets the Savior face to face, 'Twould be to wear a starless crown." But on the other hand, what if we should simply be faithful? Then may the following be true of us: "Perhaps in Heaven, some day, to me Some sainted one shall come and say, All hail, beloved, but for thee My soul to death had fallen a prey. And, oh, the rapture of the thought, One soul to glory to have brought." General Booth of the Salvation Army describes a vessel making its way home from the Australian gold fields. The miners had struggled to get rich and at last every man had around about him his belt of gold. The ship lost her way in the ocean and, set out of her course, suddenly crashed upon the rocks of an island near by. Almost instantly she sank. As one miner stood looking at the shore he knew that he was strong enough as a swimmer to save his gold and save his own life; but as he was about to throw himself into the sea a little girl whose mother and father had been washed overboard came over to him to say, "Oh, sir, can you not save me?" It was then a choice between the child and the gold. The struggle was terrific but at last the gold was thrown aside, the child fastened to his body and he struggled through the waves until he fell exhausted and fainting upon the shore. The great Salvation Army officer says that when this strong man came to himself the little child was by his side. Throwing her arms about his neck she exclaimed with sobs, "Oh, sir, I am so glad you saved me." "That was worth more to him than the gold," said General Booth. And if in heaven some day upon the streets of gold we shall meet just one redeemed soul who was once lost and in the darkness, and we know that that one soul is there because we were true, the streets of gold will be better, the gates of pearl will be brighter, the many mansions more beautiful, the music sweeter, and, if such a thing were possible, the vision of Christ more entrancing. Certainly it would be thrilling to hear him say to us, "Inasmuch as ye did it unto these little ones ye did it unto me." SANCTIFICATION TEXT: "_This is the will of God, even your sanctification._"--1 Thess. 4:3. It is quite significant that the Apostle Paul writes explicitly concerning sanctification to a church in which he had such delight that he could write as follows: "Paul, and Silvanus, and Timotheus, unto the Church of the Thessalonians in God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ: Grace be unto you, and peace, from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ. We are bound to thank God always for you, brethren, as it is meet, because that your faith groweth exceedingly, and the charity of every one of you all toward each other aboundeth; so that we ourselves glory in you in the churches of God for your patience and faith in all your persecutions and tribulations that ye endure: which is a manifest token of the righteous judgment of God, that ye may be counted worthy of the kingdom of God, for which ye also suffer: seeing it is a righteous thing with God to recompense tribulation to them that trouble you; and to you who are troubled rest with us; when the Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven with his mighty angels. In flaming fire taking vengeance on them that know not God, and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ: who shall be punished with ever-lasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his power; when he shall come to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired in all them that believe (because our testimony among you was believed) in that day" (2 Thessalonians 1:1-10). No higher commendation than this could be paid to any followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, and yet unto such a people we find him saying, "This is the will of God, even your sanctification." It reminds us of that other scene in the New Testament when Nicodemus comes to Jesus by night. He was a member of the Sanhedrim, he was in the truest sense of the word a moral man, and yet Jesus, knowing all this, deliberately looked into his face and said with emphasis, "Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again" (John 3:5-7). Both of these statements lead us to believe that God's requirements for his people are very high. These we may not attain unto at all in our own strength or the energy of our flesh or because of any inherited righteousness which we may possess. There is no way to reach his standard except by complete identity with Christ; and this is made possible by means of faith. To know the will of God concerning anything is a great satisfaction. It is like food to our souls if we can say with Jesus, "My meat is to do God's will." It is an indescribable pleasure if we can say with the Son of God, "I delight to do thy will." It is the key to the highest form of knowledge, for we have found it true that "he that doeth the will of God shall know of the doctrine." It is the promise of eternal life, for we are told in God's Word, "He that doeth the will of God abideth forever." There is possibly no place where God's will for us is more clearly stated than in this text. Sometimes we may know his will by praying. How often revelations have come thus to us as if from the very skies concerning his desires for us! We may know it sometimes by thinking. If one would but yield his mind perfectly to God in his providences as well as in his word he would know God's will concerning him. We may know it sometimes by talking to others, for not infrequently God gives a revelation to one child of his for the guidance of another's life. But in this connection it is most definitely stated, "This is the will of God, even your sanctification." And the Apostle emphasizes his words, First: By the use of the most affectionate expression, "Furthermore then we beseech you, brethren, and exhort you by the Lord Jesus, that as ye have received of us how ye ought to walk and to please God, so ye would abound more and more" (1 Thessalonians 4:1). Second: He speaks on the authority of Jesus himself. "For ye know what commandments we gave you by the Lord Jesus" (1 Thessalonians 4:2). Third: He emphasizes it by referring to the second coming of our Lord, for he well knew that if one was looking for the appearing of the Son of God he would turn away from fleshly lusts and abstain from that which was unclean, thus encouraging the work of sanctification. The Apostle Paul says to the Thessalonians after he has clearly set before them God's will concerning their living, "But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words" (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14). It was not enough for them, in his judgment, to abide in the faith; they must abound in the works of the Gospel. To talk well without walking well is not pleasing to God, for the character of the Christian is thus described, "He walks not after the flesh but after the Spirit." The presentation of this subject impresses upon us the fact that we have lost many of the best words in the Bible because they have been misused and their teaching misapprehended. If you speak of holiness men look askance at you, and yet holiness is simply wholeness or healthfulness and is to the soul what health is to the body. Who, then, would be without it? If you speak of sanctification immediately your hearers imagine you are talking concerning sinlessness, and yet there is no better word in the Scriptures than sanctification, for in one way it means separation from sin, in another way it means an increasing likeness to Christ. There are six particular effects of faith. First: There is union with Christ. It is true that we were chosen in him before the foundation of the world and that we are an elect people, but it is also true that we are by nature the children of wrath and it is necessary that we should make a deliberate choice of him as a Savior. When by faith we have taken Christ as a Savior we are united to him. Faith is counting that which seems unreal as real, as untrue as true and that which seems not to exist as if it existed. Faith unites us to him. Without him we are as nothing. Second: Justification. "There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit" (Romans 8:1). "He that believeth on him is not condemned; but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God" (John 3:18). As we believe in Christ we are clothed with his righteousness. Whether we can explain it or not, this righteousness answers every demand of God's justice. Thus it is that Romans the eighth chapter the thirty-third and the thirty-fourth verses becomes true for us. Let it be noticed, however, that in both of these verses the two words, "_it_," and "_is_" are in italics, which would indicate that they were not in the original. Concerning those who are justified, therefore, the verses would read as follows: "Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect." The rest of the verse is a question, "God that justifieth?" The thirty-fourth verse reads, "Who is he that condemneth?" and the answer is a question, "Christ that died, yea rather that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God who also maketh intercession for us?" and Paul here simply means to say that if God can lay nothing to our charge and Christ would not condemn us then we are free, and justification at least to the layman carries with it this thought: 1. The justified man stands as if he had not sinned at all. His record is clean. 2. The debt which sin had incurred is paid and instead of being afraid and trembling at the thought of sin we sing with rejoicing, "Jesus paid it all, all to him I owe." Third: Participation of his life. Paul writes to the Galatians, "I live, and yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." And in the fifteenth chapter of John the first six verses we read, "I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away; and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit. Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye are the branches: he that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing. If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered; and men gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned." So faith unites us to him and his life becomes a very part of our being. (a) It is like the principle of grafting. When the branch is grafted into the tree the life of the tree throbs its way into the branch and ultimately there is fruitfulness. If we only could sustain the right relations to Christ we would have the cure for worldliness. (b) Because of this participation and privilege we need not be concerned. I have heard of a man who grafted a branch into a tree and then went each day to take the graft out to see what progress it had made, and the branch died. (c) Our life need not be intermittent--that is, hot to-day and cold to-morrow--but it may be all the time an abundant life; not because of what we are but because of what Christ is. Fourth: Peace. Romans 5:1, "Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." And peace arises from a sense of reconciliation. If faith is strong, then peace is abundant; if it is fitful peace partakes of the same character. That man who has faith in Jesus Christ as a personal Savior has the following threefold blessing--first, _Peace with God_; second, _The Peace of God_; third, _The God of Peace_. Fifth: Sanctification. Acts 26:18, "To open their eyes and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me." Of this we shall speak more at length a little later. Sixth: Assurance. This is plainly written in God's word. Notice John 3:16, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life." And John 5:24, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation: but is passed from death unto life." The entire first Epistle of John also emphasizes the same truth. I Sanctification is therefore entirely by faith. First: By faith we receive the indwelling of the Spirit and he makes Christ real to us. Because Christ is real by faith we may walk with him; and that man who keeps step with Jesus Christ will find that he has come day by day to turn away from those things which were formerly his defeat. We may also talk with him. That hymn which we sometimes sing, "A little talk with Jesus, How it smooths the rugged way," has been true in the experience of many of us. We may also be so constantly associated with him that we may find ourselves actually like him; and to grow like Christ by the power of the Spirit is to have the work of Sanctification carried on. Second: By faith exercised in God the Spirit continues his work. We have only to remember the promises of God concerning him, the first of which is that the Spirit is here carrying on his special work in his particular dispensation. His second promise is that he is in us if we be children of God, and we need only to yield to his presence day by day to be delivered from the power of sin. His third promise is that he will take of the things of God and show them unto us. Things which the world's people cannot understand he makes plain unto us. "Eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive the things which God hath prepared for those who love him," but the Spirit hath revealed them unto us. The fourth promise is that he will not leave us. We may resist the Spirit, we may grieve the Spirit, but we will not grieve him away. His power may be greatly limited in our lives, the work of sanctification under the influence of his presence be greatly hindered, but he is with us, "nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature can separate us from him." Third: By faith we have a vision of things unseen and they become real to us. Faith is to the soul what the eye is to the body. The things of God become actually real, and becoming so they are powerful. Under the influence of this vision temporal things are trifling. The Christian who is true to his position lives in heaven, breathes its atmosphere, is pervaded by its spirit and so becomes pure, tender, obedient, loving. No wonder that to these people whose lives were so attractive Paul wrote in the text, "This is the will of God, even your sanctification." II Justification and sanctification ought to be compared to appreciate the latter. The first is an act, the second is a work. We do not grow in justification. There is no distinction between Christians in this respect; the smallest child accepting Christ is as truly justified as the saint of a half century. So far as sanctification is concerned there is the widest possible difference. Justification depends upon what Christ does for us, sanctification depends upon what Christ does in us. First of all it is a supernatural work. In this respect among others it differs from reformation. Henry Drummond has said that in reformation men work from the circumference, in sanctification they work from the center. The Triune God may really be counted upon as the author of this work. In 1 Thessalonians the fifth chapter and the twenty-third verse we have the work of the Father. "And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." In Ephesians fifth chapter twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth verses we have the work of the Son. "Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the Church and gave himself for it; that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word." In John the seventeenth chapter and the seventeenth verse we have special emphasis laid upon the work of the Spirit. "Sanctify them through thy truth; thy word is truth." What folly, therefore, to think that we could carry on this work by ourselves! Second: Just what, therefore, is this work of sanctification? When we are regenerated we have given to us an entirely new nature. The old nature and the new are absolutely different; and the old and the new war one against the other. The Bible is full of the accounts of those who have met this inward conflict. Some of the most eminent people in the world whose names have been mentioned in the Bible and out of it have told the story of their backsliding, their falling, their repentance, and their lamentation because of their weakness. You have all read the seventh chapter of Romans. Whether this is the story of Paul's experience or not, it is the story of yours. Galatians the fifth chapter sixteenth and seventeenth verses gives us the same thought. "This I say then, Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfill the lust of the flesh. For the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary, the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would." What is it, therefore? It is just the working day by day of the spirit of Christ in us. It is the growth of that spiritual nature which after a while controls our whole being. It is the bringing into subjection of the old nature until it has no more dominion over us. After Paul's struggle in the seventh chapter of Romans he comes triumphantly to the second verse of the eighth chapter of Romans and exclaims, "For the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death." III It God is the author, then certain things need to be emphasized. First: We need only to be yielding day by day to his efforts and presence and power to become more and more sanctified. His life flows along the path of least resistance; if there is difficulty with us in the matter of temper, sharpness of tongue, an impure mind or an unforgiving spirit, give him liberty and the work is complete. Second: We must learn that the least thing may hinder his work in us. It became necessary for me recently to purchase a hayrake. I was told of two different kinds, one the old-fashioned kind where the prongs of the rake must be lifted by hand, the other an automatic arrangement where by simply touching the foot to a spring the movement of the wheels would lift the rake at the proper time so that raking hay was a delight. The first day the rake was in the field it was almost impossible to use it. It was too heavy to lift by hand and the foot attachment would not work. We sent for the man who had sold us the implement. There was just one little part of the attachment missing. Missing that, hard effort was required and poor work was accomplished. It may be that some little thing stands in the way of your blessing, or the lack of some little thing hinders your usefulness. Third: We have only to remember the law of growth. We do not grow by trying. Who ever heard of a boy growing in this way? Who ever heard of a doctor who had a prescription for growth? Our effort for Christian growth is just a succession of failures. How many times we have said, "I am determined to be better; my temper shall never get the better of me again"! We are beginning at the wrong end. Instead of dealing with the symptoms, let us see that we are in right relations with Christ and he will effect the cure. Let us, therefore, just observe the right attitude towards Christ and we have the secret. Henry Drummond has said in one of his books that the problem of the Christian life is simply this: "Men must be brought to observe the right attitude. To abide in Christ is to be in right position and that is all." Much work is done on board a ship in crossing the Atlantic, yet none of this is spent in making the ship go. The sailor harnesses his vessel to the wind, he lifts his sail, lays hold of his rudder and the miracle is wrought. God creates, man utilizes. God gives the wind, the water, the heat, and man lays hold of that which God has given us, holding himself in position by the grace of God, and the power of omnipotence courses within his soul. IV We are in this world slowly but surely coming to be like Christ. To be Christ-like is one thing--we may be in this way or that--but to be like Christ is entirely different. Wonderful transformations have been wrought in this world by education and by culture. I remember when I was a lad in Indiana being told of a celebrated Indianapolis physician who advertised for the most helpless idiot child and the most hopeless was brought to him. For weeks and months no impression could be made upon that child. He used every day to take the child into his parlor, put him down on the floor and then lie beside him with the sunlight streaming in his face. He said over and over one syllable of a word until at last the child caught it, and I remember as a boy seeing that same child stand upon a platform, repeat the Lord's Prayer and the twenty-third Psalm and sing a hymn to the praise of God [Transcriber's note: part of page torn away here, and one, possibly two, words are missing] is wonderful; but more remarkable than that is the work which is going on in us day by day. We are becoming more Christlike; one day we shall be _like Christ_. "But _when_?" you say. This is the answer: "Beloved, now are ye the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." AN UNHEEDED WARNING TEXT: "_My Spirit shall not always strive with men._"--Genesis 6:31. For the truth of this statement one needs only to study his Bible and he will find written in almost every book of Old Testament and New a similar expression. At the same time in the study of God's word it will be revealed to him that God has a great plan which he is carefully working out. We must be familiar with the beginning and the unfolding of this plan and with the conclusion he reached. When after the rebellion of his people and their unwillingness to obey his precepts we find him saying, "And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart. And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them." Then turning to the New Testament Scriptures we find almost a similar expression when Jesus reaches the climax of his compassionate and gracious ministry with the children of Israel. "He came unto his own and his own received him not"; and in the twenty-third chapter of Matthew and the thirty-seventh to the thirty-ninth verse, inclusive, we hear him saying, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate. For I say unto you, Ye shall not see me henceforth, till ye shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord." From that day on his special ministry was to the Gentiles, and he has been seeking in every possible way to bring us to an appreciation of what it means to know him and to be filled with all his fullness. We have but to stop for a moment and consider to realize that by many his overtures have been declined, his Spirit grieved and his Son rejected. Men have lived as if they had no responsibility towards him at all and in many instances they have put him entirely out of their consideration. If we compare present day indifference and sin with the condition of things at the time of the flood, and then again compare them with the position of Israel when Jesus turned away from them with tears, it would seem almost as if the world of the present day had made progress both in the matter of indifference and rejection; and therefore it is not strange that such an Old Testament text as this would be applicable to people living about us. It is a solemn text. "_My Spirit shall not always strive with men_." It is along the line of those solemn words of Dr. Alexander: "There is a time, we know not when; A place, we know not where, That seals the destiny of man For glory or despair." Again we read, "Ye shall seek me and shall not find me, and where I am there ye cannot come." That also is the spirit of the text. God tells us, "To-day if ye will hear his voice harden not your heart," which simply means that if we neglect to hear the heart will become hardened, the will stubborn, and we shall be unsaved and hopeless. Again he tells us, "Now is the accepted time, and now is the day of salvation." So for men to act as if they might come at any time and choose their own way of salvation is to sin against him, and to all such he speaks the text--"My Spirit shall not always strive with men." It is assumed that the spirit of God does strive with men. If he will not strive always, then he does strive at some particular time, and with many of us he is striving now. We may not be willing to confess it to our friends, but nevertheless it is true. In many ways he is bringing to our attention the eternal interests of our souls, and this is striving. It is implied that men are resisting the Spirit of God. If this were not so there could be no striving, and the text indicates that men may continue so long to resist him and to sin against him that after a while the door of mercy will close and hope be a thing of the past. I What is the striving of the Spirit? I have no doubt but that many are asking this question seriously and fearfully and it is worthy of our most careful consideration. 1. It is just God speaking to us and causing us to say to ourselves if not to others, "Well, I ought to be a Christian; this life of worldliness does not pay." There is nothing but an accusing conscience, a weakened character and a blighted life as the result of it. Do not for a moment think that this is just an impression that has come to you; it is the voice of God and you would do well to hear it. This striving of the Spirit is simply the Spirit of God seeking to convince men that the only safe life is that which is hid with Christ in God, safe not only for eternity--the most of us believe that--but safe for time. Temptations are too powerful for us to withstand alone and trials are too heavy for us to bear in our own strength. The striving of the Spirit is just our heavenly Father graciously attempting to persuade us to yield to him, sometimes by providences. When but a lad my old pastor used one night an illustration from which I never have been able to get away. It was the story of the old fisherman who took his little boy with him to fish and found that on his accustomed fishing grounds he was unsuccessful; so, leaving the boy upon the little island, he started away to fish alone. The mists came down in his absence and, missing his way, he lost his boy. He rowed everywhere calling him and at last he heard him in the distance, saying, "I am up here, papa; over this way." The fisherman found him, but not quickly enough to enable him to escape the cold night winds, and the boy sickened and died. The old fisherman said: "Every night when I stood at my window I could see his outstretching hands and always above the storm I could hear his voice calling me upward. I could not but be a Christian." My mother had just a few weeks before gone home to God, and I heard her voice as plainly as I could hear the voice of my friend at my side. Every vision of a mother in heaven, of a child in the skies, is a call of God. He seeks to persuade us by calamities. The Chicago theater horror, with its hundreds of women and children dead and disfigured, was God's call to a great city and to the world. This is the striving of the Spirit. Not with audible voice does he speak to us but by means of impressions and convictions. Let us not think for a moment that these come simply because the preacher has influence and may possibly be possessed of a certain kind of genius or power. These are God's warnings to us. Be careful, therefore, how you resist them. Jesus said in John the sixteenth chapter the seventh to the eleventh verses, "Nevertheless I tell you the truth; It is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you. And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness and of judgment. Of sin, because they believe not on me; of righteousness, because I go to my Father, and ye see me no more; of judgment, because the prince of this world is judged." The word "_reprove_" is a judicial word. When the judge has heard the testimony for or against the criminal and the arguments of the counsel, he himself sums up the case and lays it before the jury, bringing out the strong points or the weak ones in relation to the criminal. This is reproving, and it is this that the Spirit does. He brings before us Jesus Christ and then presents unto God our treatment of him, and so it is easy to understand how the text could be true. "My spirit shall not always strive with men." 2. How may we know that he is striving? There are very many ways. (1) If the attention is aroused and centered upon religious subjects and interests, then be careful how you treat God. The student who finds his mind constantly escaping from his books to the thought of eternity; the business man who cannot possibly escape the thought that he owes God something and ought not to slight him, these have proofs that the Spirit is striving. After an evangelistic meeting which I recently conducted I received the following letter, which clearly indicates the striving of the Spirit: "I had not attended the church for years until to-night, but being a visitor in C. and hearing that you were from the East and a Presbyterian I determined to go. I was lonely and it may be the Spirit was calling me. I heard you speak of your little boys and of the sainted mother who has gone before and my proud heart was touched. I, too, have two darling boys back in the old state, a loving Christian wife and a dear old mother who in parting said, 'Dear son, I am old and I may never see you again on earth, but if I am not here when you return, remember, my son, my boy, we must meet in heaven.' "How much that meant to her! I did not quite realize it then, but your talk to-night impressed me and I believe that her prayers are being answered together with those of a loving, courageous, steadfast Christian wife, and that I am at last, at the age of forty-two, beginning to see how great my opportunities to do good have been and how my example has been a great hindrance and stumbling block to others in the way of life. Admitting that this life has no stronger emotion than our love for our families, how much more I am impressed to-night with my duty to him who gave his only Son to suffer that we might live in the life everlasting! "In a busy business life and career I had drifted away from the safe anchorage of the church and Sunday school of my boyhood and had almost convinced myself that by charity and exercising good will and kindliness in my business I could do almost as much good as if I were in the church; but I see my mistake. To make an army effective we must stand in the ranks, must be soldiers in the army of Christ ready and willing to do at all times whatever we see before us. "I have written my dear old mother a letter to-night which I know will please her far more than if I had told her I had found a mine of California gold; her prayers, my wife's, yours and those of other true Christian men and women have been answered, and I realize that now, (not next week, nor next month, nor when I get my business finished and go back to the East) is the day and the hour to remember Christ and know that his love for us is greater even than the love that tugs at our heartstrings when we think of the dear little ones at home who lovingly call us father, and for whom we gladly endure the heartaches of separation when we know that our labors will contribute to their comfort and happiness. "I realize from the standpoint of a business man how many there are in the world to criticise your best efforts and your work and how few who ever stop to say, 'I thank you; you have done me good.' I take time to-night to do more. I want to say that your message from the King of kings has not fallen on stony ground. I shall try to enter again the battle of life, not as only in search of the wealth of this world but in search of the wealth that the world cannot take away--life everlasting. "You were right. Preach and pray the fathers into the Kingdom of God and the rest is easy, for all unconsciously our children follow in our footsteps, watch our every word and action; then how much, how much it means if our example is wrong!" II (1) Whenever we are convinced especially of the sinfulness of sin we may be sure that the Spirit is striving with us. There are times when we may be thoughtless and sin with impunity; but not so when the Spirit is doing his work, for sin is an awful thing. (2) Whenever we are impressed with the heinousness of unbelief be assured that the Spirit is at work, for the worst sin in all this world is not impurity but rather that we should not believe on Jesus Christ. To reject him is to sneer at God, to trample the blood of his Son under foot, to count his sacrifice a common thing and really to crucify him afresh. In all this impression God speaks. (3) When we see the danger of dying in our sins he is moving us. It is a mystery to me how men can close their eyes in sleep when they realize that any night God might simply touch them and time would give way to eternity and the judgment would be before them. As a matter of fact men are not indifferent to this, and the fact that they are not proves that the Spirit of God is opening their eyes. (4) When he strips us of excuses be sure that he is working. The man who has said, "I will wait until I am better," begins to realize that his past sins must be taken into account and no future resolutions can touch them. The man who has said, "There is time enough," suddenly realizes that between him and eternity there is but a beat of the heart. The one who has claimed that hypocrisy in the church kept him out of it comes to see that hypocrisy proves the life of the church, for men never counterfeit that which is bad money but rather that which is good. (5) Whenever we see the folly of trusting in any other word than Christ's then the Spirit of God is with us. Not reformation, for it does not touch the sins of the past; not resolution, for this is too weak, and though we may seem better than others, this may be true only according to our own standard. When we see the folly of these positions the Spirit of God is doing his work; so be careful how you treat him. III What would be the consequences of the Spirit ceasing his work? We really could not express it in words. No man has power or energy to make it plain. We can only just hint at the condition. 1. There would be an opposition to religion, for whenever you find a man turning against that which has been the world's hope remember that the state of that man is awful in the extreme and will grow worse. 2. There will be an opposition to revivals, to all preaching and to the ministers of the Gospel wherever this spirit is made manifest. We ought to tremble for ourselves if this is our spirit, or for others if it is theirs. 3. Wherever men settle down into some form of error this is a description of one who has sinned against the Spirit of God, for there is a longing in every soul for something outside of and beyond one's self; and the things of the world cannot alone satisfy. 4. When men continue to grow worse and worse and seem to glory in their shame there is great cause for solemn thought. In the light of these suggestions the text is given, "My Spirit shall not always strive with men." IV Why should he cease his striving? Not because he is not compassionate, for he is; nor forbearing, for that is his character; not that he is without patience, for he is infinite in this grace; nor because he is without mercy, for his mercy is from everlasting to everlasting. 1. But because it will do the sinner no good to continue his pleadings. It is a known law of the mind that truth resisted loses its power. Why should God continue when we only spurn his offers of mercy? Agassiz, the great Christian scientist, tells of his work in the mountains when his assistants lowered him to his work by means of a rope and a basket. They always tested his weight before letting him down; and yet he said that one day when they had lowered him deeper than ever they found that they could not lift him, though they had tested his weight before he had been lowered. They must go away over the mountains to secure other assistance. "And then," said the scientist, "when they did lift me they found that their failure was due to the fact that they did not take into account the weight of the rope." Every time you refuse Jesus Christ as your Savior and God calls you again you must lift against that other refusal, and this is why it is so difficult for some to come to Christ. 2. Because to continue warning is to hinder the sinner. The more light we have the greater guilt. Better would it be for the sinner when all hope is gone for the Spirit to leave, for he shall be called to account for warnings. Oh, the solemnity of the day of judgment! 3. Because to resist the Spirit of God is for men to sin willfully if the rejection is final. It is a sad thing to say "no" to God, and if we sin willfully there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins. V What is meant by the Spirit not striving? Not that he will be withdrawn from men in general, but rather from the individual. 1. He may not follow the sinner, who will be indifferent to preaching, to praying, to his own spiritual condition, for he has given himself over to error. 2. It simply means that we have come to the limit of his patience, for we have trifled with him in our continued rejection. 3. It also means that there is just some one point where he will cease to work. That point may be here and that day may be now, and so the text is solemn. A long time ago an old woman tripped and fell from the top of a stone stairway in Boston as she was coming out of the police station. They called the patrol and carried her to the hospital and the doctor examining her said to the nurse, "She will not live more than a day." And when the nurse had won her confidence the old woman said, "I have traveled from California, stopping at every city of importance between San Francisco and Boston, visiting two places always--the police station and the hospital. My boy went away from me and did not tell me where he was going, so I have sold all my property and made this journey to seek him out. Some day," she said, "he may come into this hospital, and if he does tell him that there were two who never gave him up." When the night came and the doctor standing beside her said, "It is now but a question of a few minutes," the nurse bent over her to say, "Tell me the names of the two and I will tell your son if I see him." With trembling lips and eyes overflowing with tears she said, "Tell him that the two were God and his mother," and she was gone. I cannot believe that God has given any of you up. You would not be listening to this message, you certainly would not be reading these words if he had. He has not given you up. I beseech you therefore hear him. It would be a sad thing for you to say no to him at the last and have him take you at your word, and if he has not given you up I am persuaded that there is some one else in the world deeply concerned for your soul. THE APPROVAL OF THE SPIRIT TEXT: "_Yea, saith the Spirit._"--Rev. 14:31. The world has had many notable galleries of art in which we have been enabled to study the beautiful landscape, to consider deeds of heroism which have made the past illustrious, in which we have also read the stories of saintly lives; but surpassing all these is the gallery of art in which we find the text. Humanly speaking John is the artist while he is an exile on the Island of Patmos in the Aegean Sea. The words he uses and the figures he presents are suggested by his surroundings, and it would be difficult to imagine anything more uplifting than the book of Revelation if it be properly studied and understood. When John speaks of the Son of Man he describes his voice as the sound of many waters--undoubtedly suggested by the waves of the sea breaking at his feet. Locked in by the sea on this lonely island he gives to us this Revelation for which every Christian should devoutly thank God. His eyes are opened in an unusual way and before him as in panoramic vision the past, the present and the future move quickly, and he makes a record of all the things that he beholds. His body is on Patmos but as a matter of fact he seems to be walking the streets of the heavenly city and gives to us a picture of those things which no mortal eye hath yet beheld. He describes the risen Christ. It is a new picture, for as he beholds him his head and his hair are white like wool, as white as snow; and yet it is an old picture he gives, for he is presented as the Lamb that has been slain, with the marks of his suffering still upon him, and these help to make his glory the greater, and if possible to increase the power and sweetness of the angels' music. He presents to us a revelation of the glorified church and of the four and twenty elders falling down at the feet of Jesus, casting their crowns before him and giving him all adoration and praise. He cheers us with a knowledge of the doom of Satan, for in the closing part of the book he presents him to us as bound, cast into the pit and held as a prisoner for a thousand years, while in every other part of the Bible he is seen going about like a raging lion seeking whom he may devour. He gives to us some conception of the final judgment, and the great white throne is lifted up before us; the dead, small and great, stand before God, the books are opened and those whose names are not found written in the book are cast away from his presence forever; and then as a climax of the picture we have before us the new heaven and the new earth. Again I say, there is nothing so wonderful as Revelation if only we have the mind of the Spirit in its interpretation. In this text John is speaking of those who die in the Lord and the whole verse reads as follows: "And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors; and their works do follow them" (Revelation 14:13). Ordinarily this text has been used only on funeral occasions, but literally interpreted the text which stands as the heart of the verse may be read as follows, "Amen, saith the Spirit." It would seem as if the Holy Ghost were giving his assent to the truth which has been spoken. "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." It is like an old time antiphonal service, when choir answered choir in the house of God; or, to put it in another way, it is one of those remarkable interruptions several instances of which are found in the Scriptures. One is in Hebrews the thirteenth chapter and the eighth verse, "Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever." According to the revision this verse has an added word and reads as follows, "Jesus Christ the same yesterday and to-day, _yea_ and forever." I call special attention to the little word "yea." Somebody has said that it is as if the Apostle were saying that Jesus is the same to-day that he was yesterday, than which no thought could be more comforting. And it would seem at the closing part of the verse as if the angels of God had broken in upon his message to say, "Yea, and he is forever the same," which is certainly true. Could anything be more inspiring than to know that we have the approval of the Holy Ghost of the things we say or think? There are many representations of the Spirit of God in the Bible. His love is presented under the figure of the mother love, as in Genesis the first chapter and the second verse; "And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God _moved_ [or brooded] upon the face of the waters." In this text the Spirit broods over the world as the mother bird hovers over her little ones. We see him in the figure of the dove in Matthew the third chapter and the sixteenth verse: "And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water, and lo, the heavens were opened unto him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a _dove_, and lighting upon him." And here we have a revelation of his gentleness. Again he is presented to us under the figure of the wind, "And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty _wind_, and it filled all the house where they were sitting" (Acts 2:2). Here we see his power. We catch a vision of him in the fire in Acts the second chapter and the third verse, "And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them"; and here we understand his cleansing influence. But here in this text we have his directing power. It is as if he were giving particular attention to all that John is saying and giving his approval to it because it is the truth. Since the day of Pentecost he has occupied a new position. However, he has existed from all eternity. We behold him in his work in the Old Testament Scriptures. But from the day of Pentecost the affairs of the church have been committed to him, its organization, its development, its services, whether it be the preaching, the praying or the singing. We cannot ignore him, for he has to do with all the work and with the preaching of the word. He convicts of sin. John 6:44, "No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him: and I will raise him up at the last day." He applies Christ to the awakened sinner, "Howbeit when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth: for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak: and he will shew you things to come. He shall glorify me: for he shall receive of mine, and shall shew it unto you." He helps to interpret the Word of God because he inspired men to write it. It is impossible to get along without him. I put no mark of disrespect upon scholarship. I know what it has accomplished; it has filled libraries with knowledge which has made the world rich, it has weighed planets and given us almost a perfect understanding of the heavenly bodies. It has estimated the velocity of light until we have stopped to say, "Such things are too wonderful for us." It has read the tracings upon obelisks, and made the past an open book to us, giving us the secrets of men who have been thousands of years in their tombs, but I do wish to say that that which comes to us directly from the Spirit of God is beyond scholarship. Hear what Paul has said to us in 1 Corinthians the second chapter and the ninth to the fourteenth verses. "But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. But God hath revealed them unto us by his Spirit: for the Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God. For what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him? even so the things of God knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God. Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is of God; that we might know the things that are freely given to us of God. Which things also we speak, not in the words which man's wisdom teacheth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth; comparing spiritual things with spiritual. But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned." There are certain great truths to which I am sure the Holy Ghost would say a deep amen. I The Bible _is_ the word of God--not simply that it _contains_ the word of God, but is that very word. Peter tells us where we got our Bible. 2 Peter 1:21, "For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man; but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost." It is an inspired Book, and inspiration is the inbreathing of God himself. This makes the Bible different from every other book. We cannot study it exactly as we study others. We may pick it up and say it is just paper, ink and leather, like any other book, but we have missed the power of it if we say this. We might say, "Jesus is just a man, eating, drinking, sleeping, suffering like a man"; but we have missed his power if we say only this, for the Bible is filled with God, and Jesus is God Himself. Jesus said, "Ye must be born again if ye are to enter my Kingdom," and this makes the difference in men. Because of this new birth one man sees the things of God to which another would be totally blind, and this makes the difference in books and leaves the Bible incomparably beyond all other books. How may we know that the Bible is the word of God? Not simply scientifically, although the Bible is a scientific book; but not in this way any more than we could find life in the body by cutting it up with a knife. The Bible is like a sensitive plant; approach it in the wrong way and it will close its leaves and withhold its fragrance. Come to it reverently and there is no blessing that it cannot bestow. 1. Accept it by faith and act according to its principles. If God exists, as we know he does, then talk with him; if Christ is here presented to us with all his uplifting teachings, then walk with him; if the promises of God are written here, as we know they are, then present them to him expecting him to keep his word. General Booth of the Salvation Army once said in a great meeting where I was present that we were poor, weak Christians to-day because we were not living up to our privileges as Christians. He described a young man who had lost his position and had gone from one degree of poverty to another until at last he was on the verge of starvation. With his wife and little ones about him he sits in deepest gloom. There is a rap at the door and the postman brings a letter which is a message from a former employer who tells him that he has just learned of his distress, that he will help him, and that in the meantime he incloses his check for a sum of money which he hopes may make him comfortable. A check is simply a promise to pay. The young man, says General Booth, looks at it a moment and then begins to rush about the room in great excitement. "Poor man," said his wife, "I knew it would come to this. His mind is giving way." Then he presents the check to her and says, "I know what I shall do with it. I will frame it and hang it on the wall." Then again he exclaims, "I shall take it to my friend and have him set it to music and sing it each day," and he might do both of these and starve to death. What he should have done was to present it for payment and live off of its proceeds. "We have been framing God's promises long enough," said General Booth, "and singing them quite long enough; let us now present them for payment, and we shall know that God is true." 2. Live its truth. Whatever God presents as a principle translate into your life and then believe that God will transform your living. It will support you in trial and it will comfort you in the deepest sorrow. The world was shocked by that great railroad accident which meant the death of Mrs. Booth-Tucker, but when in Carnegie Hall Commander Booth-Tucker stood to speak great words concerning his noble wife he said: "I was once talking with a man in Chicago about becoming a Christian and he said to me, 'If God had taken away your beautiful wife and you were left desolate with your little children would you believe in him?' And," said the Commander before his great New York audience, "if that man is in this audience to-day let me tell him. God has taken my beautiful wife and I am here surrounded by my children, but I never believed in him more thoroughly and was never more confident of the truth of his Word." II Jesus Christ is the Son of God. To this truth I am very sure the Holy Ghost will add his amen. In John the fifteenth chapter and the twenty-sixth verse we read, "But when the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you from the Father, even the Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of me." And if you would know that Jesus Christ is God's Son I would suggest, 1. That you simply test him; try him in heathen lands and tell me if any other story could thrill and transform as does the story of his life and death. Dr. Torrey says that whether the story was told in China or England, whether the story was told in India or Australia, it was always the same and never was without effect. 2. Try him in your own life. One day in a service in a western city an old woman was wheeled into the church in an invalid's chair. I knew by the expression of her countenance that she was suffering. When I met her after the service and asked her about her story she said as the most excruciating pain convulsed her body, "I have not been free from pain in twenty years and have scarcely slept a night through all that time," and then, brushing the tears from her eyes, and with an expectant face, she exclaimed, "but if I could tell you all that Jesus Christ has been to me in these twenty years I could thrill you through and through." 3. If you would know that he is the Son of God just lift him up and behold him as he draws all men unto him. This is the secret of the power of great preaching. It made Mr. Moody known whereever the English language is spoken and constituted Mr. Spurgeon one of the world's greatest preachers. As a matter of fact there is no other theme which may be presented in the pulpit by the minister with an assurance of the co-operation of the Holy Ghost. There may be times when he may feel obliged to preach concerning philosophy, poetry, art and science, but unless these things lead directly to Christ we have no reason for believing that the Holy Ghost will add his amen to our message, and without this amen the time is almost lost. III The church is the body of Christ. I am persuaded that to this truth he will give his hearty assent. This is Paul's over and over. Notice the following verses. Acts 2:41, "Then they that gladly received his word were baptized; and the same day there were added _unto them_ about three thousand souls." The words "unto them" are in italics, so not in the original, and we ask "added to what?" Acts 2: 47, "Praising God, and having favor with all the people. And the Lord '_added to the Church_' daily such as should be saved." Here we are beginning to get the truth. Acts 5:14, "And believers were the more added _to the Lord_, multitudes both of men and women." This is the truth. You will see that Christ is the head, the church is his body and we are, as individual members of the church, just being added to him. One day the body will be completed and then the Lord himself will appear. If Christ is the head he must control the body. If his life is hindered and not permitted to flow through every part of it there is confusion, strife, unrest and loss of power. There are certain things which we must do if we are to be in this world as he would have us. He must control the preaching. If given an opportunity he will direct in the choice of a theme, he will quicken our intellect in the development of that theme, he will give us an insight into the best way to present it to our hearers, and putting faith in these preliminary conditions he will take care of the results. He must also dictate the praying in a church. There is much of it that is meaningless. It is too formal, too lifeless, and entirely too general in its character. In Matthew the eighteenth chapter and the nineteenth verse, we read, "Again I say unto you, That if two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven." It does not mean that if the two should agree together as touching any one thing, but agree with him, for wherever you find two in prayer there are three, and wherever there are three there are four, and the additional one present is the Spirit of God waiting to help us in our praying and to present our prayers unto the Father in the name of Jesus Christ. He must inspire the singing of the church. In Ephesians the fifth chapter and the nineteenth verse we read, "Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord." One reason why there is such a lack of power in many churches in this country is due to the fact that the singing is simply used as filling for the services. Hymns are used in a haphazard way with little thought as to their bearing upon the theme to be presented. I am quite persuaded that when the preaching, praying and singing are all submitted to his control, whatever may be man's opinion of the service, he himself will give to it his hearty amen. IV We are the sons of God. In Romans the eighth chapter the sixteenth and seventeenth verses we read, "The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God; and if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together." To this truth he will say amen. A careful study of the Scriptures will reveal the fact that, 1. We are heirs. If therefore this be true we have but to claim our birthright privilege, and there is no weakness in our lives but may be offset by the strength of his. Whatever Christ has received as the head of the church he has received in trust for the body and we may have our possession in him if we but appropriate it. A man in England died the other day in the poorhouse. He had a little English farm upon which he could raise no grain and he let it go to waste and died a pauper. His heirs discovered that on this little English possession there was a copper mine and they are living in luxury to-day in the possession of that which belonged to their ancester [Transcriber's note: ancestor?] all the time but was not appropriated and used by him. 2. Being sons of God, we are not free from trial; but there is this one thing to say about our Christian experience: "Our light afflictions which are but for a moment work for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory," and God's presence with us in trial is infinitely better than his absence from us in the time of prosperity. Our trials are but the discipline through which we must pass in order that we may one day be prepared to stand in his presence and do his bidding throughout eternity. 3. Being sons of God, we are sure one day of glory. The song which has been singing its way around the world in the Torrey-Alexander meetings presents this thought to us beautifully. "When all my labors and trials are o'er And I am safe on that beautiful shore, Just to be near the dear Lord I adore Will thro' the ages be glory for me. "When by the gift of his infinite grace I am accorded in heaven a place, Just to be there and look on his face Will thro' the ages be glory for me. "Friends will be there I have loved long ago; Joy like a river around me will flow; Yet just a smile from my Savior, I know, Will thro' the ages be glory for me. _Chorus._ "Oh, that will be glory for me, Glory for me, glory for me, When by his grace I shall look on his face, That will be glory, be glory for me." Whatever may be our limitations here, they shall be gone there; whatever may be our weakness here, it shall be lost there. Dr. Charles Hodge in his "Lectures on Theology" has given us an imaginary picture of Laura Bridgman, the famous deaf-mute. The celebrated theologian has described her standing in the presence of Christ in that great day when we shall all be before Him, when Christ shall touch her eyes and say, "Daughter, see," and there shall sweep through her vision all the glories of the sky; when He shall touch her ears, which have been so long closed, and say, "Daughter, hear," and into her soul shall come all the harmonies of heaven; when he shall touch her lips, which on earth have never spoken a human word, and say, "Daughter, speak," and with all the angel choir she will burst into the new song. What Dr. Hodge has said concerning Laura Bridgman will be true of us. Our day of limitations will be past, the experiences of weakness be gone, and we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. This, therefore, is a good outline of a creed for us to-day. We believe the Bible is the Word of God, we believe that Jesus is the Son of God, we believe that the Church is the body of Christ, we believe that we are by regeneration the sons of God, and making such a statement we have a right to stop and listen and I am sure we shall hear as from the skies, "Amen, saith the spirit." A REASONABLE SERVICE TEXT: "_I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service._"--Romans 12:1. There is perhaps no chapter in the New Testament, certainly none in this epistle, with which we are more familiar than this one which is introduced by the text; and yet, however familiar we may be with the statements, if we read them carefully and study them honestly they must always come to us not only in the nature of an inspiration but also with rebuke, especially to those of us who preach. Paul's intellectual ability has never been questioned. Yet, giant though he was in this respect, he was not ashamed to be pathetic when he likens his care for his people to the care of a nurse for her children. He is not ashamed to be extravagant when he likens his sorrow and pain at their backsliding to the travail of a woman for her child. He is not ashamed to be intense when in the ninth chapter and the first, second and third verses he says, "I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost, that I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart. For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh." We must also be impressed with the fact that he was not at all afraid of public criticism. He not only sat at Gamaliel's feet but the great lawmaker might well have taken his place at his feet, and yet he says, "I am willing to be counted a fool if only I may win men to Christ." He is not bound by custom. He not only preaches in the synagogue and in the places set apart for the churches of the early days, but he goes about from house to house entreating people to come to Christ. He is not ashamed to weep, for he sends his messages to the people and exclaims, "I tell you these things weeping"; and here in this text he is strikingly unusual, for he is not a preacher speaking with dignity, nor an Apostle commending obedience, but a loving friend beseeching in the most pathetic way the yielding of themselves to Christ. There are two things to remember about Paul in the study of such a subject. First: He was a Jew and he knew all about offerings. Sacrifices were not forms to him and a living sacrifice was not a meaningless expression. He had been present on the great day of Atonement when the scapegoat bore away the sins of the people. He had heard the chimes of the bells on the high priest's robe as he moved to and fro before the entrance to the holy of holies, and he had waited with breathless silence for him to come forth giving evidence in his coming of the fact that Israel could once more approach Jehovah. The text to him was throbbing with holy memories and was full of significance. Second: He received his instructions concerning these things of God, not from men, for when he writes to the Galatians he says: "But I certify you, brethren, that the gospel which was preached of me is not after man, for I neither received it of man, neither was I taught it, but by the revelation of Jesus Christ" (Galatians 1:11-12). And so, since he is a heaven-taught man, we must listen while he speaks and give heed to his entreaties. I _The context_. We shall not appreciate this striking text unless we take into account its setting. The first chapters of Romans present to us a black cloud indeed, for when the first sentences are spoken we shudder because of their intensity. We read in the twenty-fourth verse that God gave the people _up_ to uncleanness; in the twenty-sixth verse that he gave them _up_ to vile affections, but in the twenty-eighth verse that he gave them _over_ to a reprobate mind. With this awful condition of affairs we start; and yet for fear that the man who counts himself a moralist might read these verses and feel that they did not apply to him, Paul writes in the third chapter and the twenty-second verse these words, "Even the righteousness of God, which is by faith of Jesus Christ, unto all and upon all them that believe; for there is no difference." But when the cloud is the blackest the rays of light begin to appear, and they are rays of light from heaven; looking on the one side at mystery and catching a vision on the other side of grace, Paul exclaims, "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service" (Romans 12:1). The word mercy is of frequent occurrence in the Bible. "From everlasting to everlasting is God's mercy," we read. This gives us some idea of duration. "New every morning and fresh every evening are his mercies." This reveals to us the fact that they are unchanging. "He is a God of mercy." This is his character. "Let the wicked forsake his way and the unrighteous man his thoughts and let him return unto the Lord and he will have mercy upon him." This is the invitation of God given to all the world! But Paul is not speaking of mercy in general; he goes on in his masterful argument outlining the doctrines of grace and on the strength of that he uses the text. First: We are justified. The fifth chapter and the first verse, "Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." In justification our sins are pardoned and we are accepted as righteous because of the righteousness of Christ, which is imputed unto us and received by faith alone. And yet to him this definition in every day language means that, being justified, we stand before God as if we never had sinned. No wonder that in the light of such a doctrine Paul could say, "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service" (Romans 12:1). Second: _We are kept safe_. Romans 5:10, "For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life." Literally the closing part of this verse is, "We are kept safe in his life." A child in its mother's arms could not be so secure as we in his life. Underneath us are the everlasting arms and around about us the sure mercies of God. Third: _We are baptized into his death_. "Know ye not that so many of us as were baptized into Jesus Christ were baptized into his death?" (Romans 6:3). "The wages of sin is death." This is God's irrevocable statement, but Christ died for our sins and Paul's argument here is that we died with him, so the demands of the law have been met and we are to go free. No wonder Paul could say, "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service." Fourth: _We are alive unto God_. Romans 6:11, "Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord." Not only are we justified and kept safe and crucified with him and buried with him but in the plan of God we are risen with him. What a wonderful mercy this is! Fifth: _We have deliverance from the self life_. The seventh chapter of Romans is just the cry of a breaking heart and reaches its climax in the twenty-fourth verse, "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" But the deliverance is in the eighth chapter, especially in the second verse, "For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death." What a mercy this is! Sixth: _For those of us who believe there is no condemnation_. Romans 8:1, "There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit." Judgment is past because he has been judged. We have nothing to do with the great white throne; Christ as our substitute has met sin's penalty and paid our debts. What a mercy this is! No wonder Paul is thrilled with the thought of it. Seventh: _No separation_. Romans 8:38-39, "For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." So that for time we are safe and our eternity is sure. Was there ever such a catalogue of mercies? In the light of all this the Apostle exclaims, "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service" (Romans 12:1). It is a good thing to study Paul's "_therefores_." He is a logician of the highest type. In Romans 5:1, there is the "_therefore of justification_." In Romans the eighth chapter and the first verse there is the "_therefore of no condemnation_." In Romans the twelfth chapter and the first verse there is the "_therefore of consecration_," and this as a matter of fact is the outline of the Epistle. II _Present your bodies_. This means the entire yielding of one's self to Christ. It corresponds to the Old Testament presentation of the burnt offering all of which was consumed. Back in the Old Testament times for fourteen years there had been no song in the temple, for it was filled with rubbish and uncleanness, but the rubbish was put away and the uncleanness vanished, the burnt offering was presented and the song of the Lord began again. If you have lost your song and have been deprived of the harmony of heaven then present your bodies a living sacrifice. There is a threefold division in man's nature. _The Spirit_, where God abides if we are his children. This is like the holy of holies. _The Soul_, which is the abode of the man himself. _The Body_, which is the outer court. When Christ was crucified the veil of the temple was rent in twain and the whole was like one great compartment. I cannot but think that if we should come to the place of complete consecration, the acceptance in our lives of what was purchased for us when he was crucified, for us the veil of the temple would be rent in twain and not only would God abide in our spirits but he would suffuse our whole nature, look with our eyes, and speak with our lips. This must have been what Paul meant when he said, "I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." III _A living sacrifice_. That is in contrast with the dead offering of the Old Testament sacrifice. Suppose for a moment that it would have been possible for an offering to have been presented in the Old Testament times and then after that for it to have lived again; it is inconceivable that this offering would have been put to any unholy use. I have many times tried to imagine the surprise of the son of the widow of Nain and the daughter of Jairus after their being raised from the dead. They certainly could not have lived selfish, sinful lives again, and I am sure that Lazarus when once he had been in the grave and was raised at the voice of the Master could never again have been worldly and unclean. But let it not be forgotten that we are a risen people; we were crucified with Christ, we died with Christ, we were buried with Christ, we have risen with Christ! How then ought we to live? In one of our western cities a minister told me recently of a young man who had graduated at a school for stammerers and came to see him one day. Keeping time with his fingers in the use of his words he said slowly: "I--want--to--speak--to--you." Without following his method of speech through I will quote what he said: "I have for a long time wanted to be a Christian and was ashamed to attempt to speak when it was so imperfectly done, but now I have graduated and I have the control in part at least of my speech, and I have come to you to-day to make my confession, for the first use I make of my voice must be the confession of him who loved me and gave himself for me." IV _Your reasonable service_. It is a reasonable service, First: Because God uses human instrumentality and he needs you, and it is therefore a reasonable demand to make, for we should place ourselves absolutely at his disposal. In the guest book of a friend I saw recently a few lines written by Dr. John Willis Baer in which he said, quoting from another: "God gave himself for us. "God gave himself to us. "God wants to give himself through us." But if our lives are inconsistent and our hearts are unclean he cannot do it. If we have not yielded ourselves altogether God himself is limited. Second: It is a reasonable request to make because of what God has done for us. One of the distinguished ministers of the Presbyterian Church told us the other day in a conference in a western city that a little boy who had been operated upon by Dr. Lorenz said as soon as he came out from under the anesthetic, "It will be a long time before my mother hears the last of this doctor"; and then, said my friend, "I thought of an incident in my own life of a poor German boy whose feet were twisted out of shape, whose mother was poor and could not have him operated upon, and I determined to bring him to a great doctor and ask him to take him in charge. The operation was over and was a great success. When the plaster cast had been taken off from his feet my friend said he went to take him home. He called his attention to the hospital and the boy admired it, but he said, 'I like the doctor best.' He spoke of the nurses and the boy was slightly interested, but said, 'They are nothing compared to the doctor.' He called his attention to the perfect equipment of the hospital and he was unmoved except as again and again he referred to the doctor. They reached the Missouri town and stepped out of the station together, and the old German mother was waiting to receive him. She did not look at her boy's face nor at his hands but she fell on her knees and looked at his feet and then said sobbing, 'It is just like any other boy's foot.' Taken into her arms, the minister said all the boy kept saying to her over and over was, 'Mother, you ought to know the doctor that made me walk.'" Then my friend said, "There is not one of us for whom Jesus Christ has not done ten thousand times more for us than the doctor did for this boy, and we have never spoken for him, we have not yielded ourselves to him." It must have been with some such spirit as this that the Apostle said, "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, which is your reasonable service" (Romans 12:1). THE TRUE CHRISTIAN LIFE TEXT: "_My beloved is mine, and I am his._"--Sol. Song 2:16. "_I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine._"--Sol. Song 6:3. "_I am my beloved's and his desire is toward me._"--Sol. Song 7:10. These three texts should be read together, and the significant change found in each text as the thought unfolds should be studied carefully. They remind one of three mountain peaks one rising higher than the other until the third is lifted into the very heavens. Indeed, if one should live in the spirit of this third text he would enjoy what Paul has described as a life in the heavenly places, and his picture of Christ would be surpassingly beautiful. At the same time the three texts give us a complete picture of a true Christian life. The first text may be regeneration, the second text consecration, and the third text sanctification. The Jews counted this Book, the Song of Solomon, as exceedingly sacred. They hid it away until the child had come to maturity before he was allowed to read it, and it was to them the holy of holies of the Old Testament Scripture. These texts are also like the division of the ancient tabernacle. There was first of all the outer court where the altar of sacrifice was to be found--and this must be constantly kept in mind, for no one can say "my beloved is mine" until he has passed the altar of sacrifice. It is only by faith in Jesus Christ that we are adopted into the membership of the family of God. The second division was the holy place, where was found the laver. Here the priests made themselves clean, and they could not minister in the presence of Jehovah until they had been made clean from all earthly defilement. This second text gives us the same thought, for here the writer changes the order exactly and says, "I am my beloved," instead of saying, "My beloved is mine." This is consecration and the consecration of a clean life. God will not accept or use that which is unclean, and it is only as we come to the place where we allow him to have full control of our lives that we realize we are his. The third division of the tabernacle was the holy of holies, where the high priest made his way once a year that he might stand in the presence of Jehovah. In this third text, where the writer says, "I am my beloved's, and his desire is towards me," we have come to the place in our experience where if his desire for us controls our living we are in the holy of holies indeed; where we can see him and enjoy his presence. I "_My beloved is mine._" This is regeneration. A minister once preaching to his congregation said, "Let every one say Jesus," and from all over the congregation there came the music of his name. "Now," said the minister, "Let all those who can, say 'my Jesus,'" and the response was not so hearty. A line ran through the congregation separating husband from wife and parents from children. It is only by faith in Christ and by the operation of the grace of God that we can experience this first text. Two things are true concerning this point. First: He wants to make better all that we have. Whatever may be our natural characteristics, he can make all that we have more beautiful. One day in Colorado I wanted to make a journey to the summit of Pike's Peak, only to find that throughout the entire day the train was chartered. I was turning away in despair when a railroad man said, "Why do you not go up at three o'clock to-morrow morning, for then," he said, "you can see the sun rise, and the sight is beautiful." So the next morning we started. Just as I was going on the train a railroad man said, "When you come to the sharp turn in the way as you go up, look over in the Cripple Creek district and you will see a sight never to be forgotten." We climbed higher and higher, leaving the darkness at the foot of the mountain, until at last we came to the place indicated and I looked away, only to be intensely disappointed. The sight was almost commonplace. As we pursued the journey upward finally we came to another place, where I heard some one give an exclamation of delight. As I looked in the same direction there was a marvelous transformation. I could see before me a mountain which looked like a white-robed priest and another like a choir of angels and still another like a golden ladder reaching up into the skies, and all because the sun had risen upon the same scenery which a moment ago was uninteresting. If Christ could only thus take possession of our lives and become our Savior the transformation would be quite as great. Second: He is ours to exercise in our behalf all that he is as Prophet, Priest and King. His office of Prophet relates to the past, his office of King to the future when he shall be crowned King of kings and Lord of lords, but his office as Priest is now being fulfilled and he is my great High Priest to intercede for me with God and make explanation for all my weakness. Adelaide Proctor has given us the story of a young girl who was in a convent in France, whose special work it was to attend the portal and keep the altar clean. The war swept over France, the battle raged near the convent, many of the soldiers were killed and a number injured. These were borne into the hospital that they might be nursed back to strength, and one of them was given to this young girl. Her nursing was successful, but he tempted her to leave the convent. They made their way to Paris, where she lost everything that makes life worth living. Then, just a wreck of her former self, she came back again to die within the sound of the convent bell. She touched the portal and instantly it was opened, not by a girl such as she had been but by a woman such as she might have been--true and noble. She bore her in her arms to her old cell, nursed her back again to a semblance of her old strength, and then she slipped into her old place to answer the portal and keep the altar clean, and not a nun in all the convent ever knew that she had sinned. This is Christ's ministry in our behalf at this time. Making up for my weakness, answering for my defects, he is my High Priest. II "_I am my beloved's._" This is really better than the first text, because if he is mine, and faith is like a hand of the soul, then faith may grow weary and the result would be sad; if I am his and he holds me then that is different. In John the tenth chapter, the twenty-eighth to the thirtieth verses, we have a picture of the true sheepfold and of the place where the child of God may rest, held in the hand of God and of his dear son. "And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My father, which gave them unto me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand. I and my Father are one." What a joy it is to know that we are his! First: His by redemption, for we are redeemed not with corruptible things such as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ. "Ye are not your own but ye are bought with a price." Second: We are his because God gave us to him; in his wonderful intercessory prayer Jesus said, "Thou gavest them to me," and again, "Ye are not our own." Third: We are his because again and again we have said so with our lips. How true the text is, then, in the light of the Scripture! If this is true then what is consecration? It is not giving God something, for how could we give him that which is already his own? Consecration is simply taking our hands off and letting him have his way with us in everything. The late George Macgregor used to tell the story of one of the bishops of the Church of England, who had an invalid wife and who never could surrender beyond a certain point. He was unwilling to say that he would give up his wife, for God might call him to some mission he could not perform, and she had been the constant object of his care. But at last he won the victory and rose from his knees to say to his friend that the surrender should be complete, and then they went into the room of his invalid wife to tell her. With a sweet smile upon her face she said, "I have reached the same decision and you can go to the ends of the earth if need be." That night the old bishop's wife died and when they went across the hall to tell the bishop there was no answer to their knock. When they entered the door they found the bishop with eyes closed, hands folded and heart still. He, too, had gone. God did not want to separate them. He wanted them to be united, their wills surrendered to him and then he would send them in the same chariot up into heaven. III "_I am my beloved's, and his desire is towards me._" If we would know God's desire for us we have only to study the Scriptures, and if we should fulfill his desires we would have an experience of heaven upon earth. First: It is his desire that we should be holy. Ephesians 1:4, "According as he hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before him in love." Holiness in not sinlessness, it is to the spiritual nature what health is to the physical life. In other words, God desires that we should be spiritually healthy, and this we cannot be with secret sins in our lives. Second: It is his desire that we should be sanctified. 1 Thessalonians 4:3, "For this is the will of God, even your sanctification, that ye should abstain from fornication." Sanctification is not sinlessness, it is separation. It is absolutely useless to think of pleasing God if we are in touch with the world in any way, for since the days of the crucifixion it has been against him. Third: It is his desire that we should present ourselves unto him in the sense above suggested--namely, that we should take our hands off from ourselves and allow him to direct and to control his own possession. Romans 12:1-2, "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service, and be not conformed to this world; but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God." Romans 6:13, "Neither yield ye your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin: but yield yourselves unto God, as those that are alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness unto God." In these expressions the tense of the verb indicates that the action is to be definite and that it is to be once and for all. He has certain desires for us also expressed in the seventeenth chapter of John. First: He desires that we should have joy. Joy is better than happiness; happiness depends upon our surroundings and circumstances, joy has nothing to do with these but rather is the result of centering our affections upon him. Second: He desires that we should be one with him. By this I am sure he means that we should be one in our thought of sin, one in our desire for holiness, one in our efforts to reach the unsaved, and one in our longing in all things to be pure and true and good. Third: He desires to make us the object of his love. In this seventeenth chapter of John he tells us that the same love which he had for his son he has for those of us who are in his Son. Thank God for this. If he must open the windows of heaven to speak forth his love for that Son and then has the same for us, oh, what joy it is to be a Christian! 
25900	----	produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) * * * * * +-------------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note: | | The last sentence of the first paragraph on page 9 is | | likely missing text. A consultation of another source has | | the same content. | | | | On page 15, the word cotemporary, meaning "One who lives | | at the same time with another; a contemporary", is correct. | | | +-------------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * SENATORIAL CHARACTER: A SERMON IN WEST CHURCH, BOSTON, SUNDAY, 15TH OF MARCH, AFTER THE DECEASE OF CHARLES SUMNER. BY C.A. BARTOL. BOSTON: A. WILLIAMS & CO., 135 WASHINGTON STREET. 1874. SERMON. "_He made him to teach his senators wisdom._"--Psalms cv, 21, 22. The common theory of the pulpit is of a place devoted to expound some old situation, abstract scheme of salvation, or article in a creed. It has a higher end,--to give the meaning of the scenes of real life, in which we observe the actors and play ourselves a part. If history be philosophy teaching by example, and of all history biography be the soul, then human character, when rare and conspicuous in its traits or achievements, gives as pattern or warning the chief lesson. Christian edification comes less signally from hair-splitting, dogmatic distinction than from contemplating for imitation or admonition the lives of Enoch and Solomon, Paul and Peter, Jesus and John. So I take to-day the death of the most eminent civilian of Massachusetts for my theme. As the King in Egypt chose Joseph to teach his senators wisdom, no man of late years has equalled Charles Sumner as an instructor or influence in the Senate of the United States. An instinct of nature prompts us to make some account and sum up the significance of any one's career, privately, on the domestic stage, or before the people, if he has challenged attention in a larger sphere. It may be useful to make some discriminating estimate of Mr. Sumner's contributions to the public good, the legislature of a free State in a great Union being the monarch that for so long a period continued to elect him to his high office. However opinions may differ of his prudence or ability, the weight of his word or importance of his position none will doubt. Our messenger of the lightning had no greater task this last week in the world than to wait at his threshold and run with news every hour over the wires of his estate. His principal peers at his bedside and his colored clients flocking for inquiry at his door showed a feeling of love and sympathy reaching from the highest to the lowest class. In culture he was a match for nobles, in temper he was a champion of the oppressed and friend to the poor. I suppose no American name is more widely known and celebrated in all civilized lands. Great Britain and France will feel the shock of his decease. That one of our political pillars has fallen will be known at the Court of St. Petersburg and among the counsellors of Berlin. Italy and Spain, with their Republican struggles and aims, will miss an advocate on this side the sea. Castelar will mourn the departure of a companion in arms in the peaceful battles of reform, as Cavour might have felt through the cable from him for emancipation an electric touch. South America, with her strange mixture of barbarism with liberation, will be conscious of owing some honor to the obsequies of a sympathizer with all that is generous in her aspirations. Hayti will deplore the decease of a supporter of her rights more powerful than any on her own shores. A flutter of pain and sorrow will pass through that whole flock of islands alighted, as in the great harbor of our land, betwixt the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea. So it will be because not only a man, a citizen of the Commonwealth and foremost trustee in the Congress of the country, but a cosmopolite is dead, deserving that name as truly as any man who, since the settlement of these colonies, has lived within their bounds. What is the reason of the wide consequence of this event? Not in the man's extraordinary original power. Nature did not intend aught intellectually pre-eminent in his constitution. It had no organic strength to strike out new paths in action or expression. It fell into ways other agents had broken. Mr. Sumner was not even an aboriginal abolitionist; he joined and did yeoman's service in the antislavery ranks. He startled the soldiers, twenty-nine years ago, in Boston, with his extreme doctrine of peace; but he followed Ladd and others, with copious illustration, but no new sentiment or novel idea. Of origination there is no speck in his reflections or spark in his style. His mind is parasitical, his discourse full of precedents, quotations, classic scenes, and historic allusions, sometimes savoring of schoolboy recitations, sophomoric and declamatory, stilted and grotesque. Yet he is in the list of wonderful men. Others thought and he was led to fancy some resemblance in his feature and person to Edmund Burke, which the portrait of Mr. Burke might actually suggest; but this resemblance to the great English Commoner was but skin-deep, with little hint of the deep sea line that fathomed every question, or the impassioned imagination which cast the light of flame on every measure, and kindled with magnetic sympathy, against the French Revolution and for American privilege, now one and now another portion of the British realm. Mr. Sumner was perhaps a greater lover of freedom in its principle as an inherent right and claim of all mankind than Mr. Burke; but Burke had pre-eminent genius in politics, Sumner only accomplished talent, though in the later light of a more humane era put to service in a grander cause. Shakespeare, Milton, Bacon, Newton, Burke, William Blake: such would be our shining classification for poetry, philosophy, science, politics, art, in the mother land. But for native force we should think of many persons before Sumner in his own field of study and pursuit. He had not the majestic sweep of Webster, the weight or heat of that mountain with its base of granite and flame, the fiery eloquence of Clay, the close grip of John Quincy Adams in argument, or the subtile felicity and gleam of primary perception which William Henry Seward brought for the enlivening of debate. He never could have invented the New-Yorker's phrase of _The Irrepressible Conflict_ as applied to the Free and Slave States, or the Illinoisian Abraham Lincoln's grander adaptation of Scripture,--_A house divided against itself cannot stand: I do not expect the house to fall, but to cease to be divided._ Mr. Sumner quoted abundantly, but he is not for any rhetorical merits or ideal inventions in the whole range of his voluminous works quotable, however rich in his right to be cited for the spirit and design on every page. He stands not strong among men of strength, thinkers and benefactors at first hand, germinators of thought and heroism in the van of the race,--such as bear the stamp of a primitive and primeval energy, like Abraham, Noah, Moses, David and Paul, Buddha and Mohammed, Socrates and Plato, in the East; Garrison and John Brown among ourselves. He was an orator of the conceptions of his predecessors and superiors, an arguer of the case, a sheriff to execute a writ. One name I do not mention in this comparison, because, being neither ancient nor modern, it is greatest of all. But if his were a secondary mind, a vine round a stouter trunk, how like some such creeper it towered and grew, appropriated nourishment and vigor from the old decaying boughs, till at length, with superior toughness and tenacity, it could breast every breeze, and stood proudly alone! Yet his understanding was that not of the revealer, but the scholar to the last. He imparted what he learned; he knew what he had been told. His delivery was not, like Patrick Henry's, a bolt from Heaven to rend the obstacle and burn up opposition, but a crystal stream flowing smoothly from some rock that had garnered up the mountain-dew and the rain; and he completely informed if he did not like Fisher Ames irresistibly charm. But in the moral region lay the real greatness of the man. His conscience was original and he had no original sin. No imputation on his purpose but cleared away like the cloud from a breath on spotless steel, leaving the metal bright as before. He was as incorruptible as he honorably said to me was Fessenden, his great rival in the Senate; and when he also one day, speaking of his limited means, remarked: "I have never had the art to get my hands into the Treasury," I was fain to answer, "You the whole man are in the Treasury yourself." He was indeed in our politics a fund and never-broken bank of moral wealth. Justice was his inspiration. He was a prophet by equity. Righteousness was his genius; and humanity, in any lack of imagination, his insight and foresight. He was without spot. He wore ermine though he sat not on the bench. John Jay had not cleaner hands, nor John Marshall a more honest will; Hamilton and Jefferson were no more patriotic in contending than he in every legal or congressional strife; and Story, his favorite teacher, and whose favorite pupil he was, no more opulent in knowledge or innocent in its use. As an antagonist, handling questions of motive or policy, he was as frank as the lion-hearted Richard and simple as a child. From those early debates to which I listened, on prison discipline, thirty years ago, to his latest speech on the Centennial Exhibition, this candor, amounting to generosity and magnanimity, was plain as the sun. He had no tricks, no management, no intrigue. He showed his hand. Could he not prevail by openness and sincerity, he would not prevail at all. If he started no new ideas or measures that have been adopted precisely in the way he conceived, or shape he gave, he mightily sustained all good ones, and of their goodness he would not abate a tithe. Of this rectitude benignity was the crown. Sternly exposing what he thought mean or unworthy in any proceeding or adversary, his severity was in his argument and rhetoric rather than in the feeling of his soul. Without a sweet disposition no man could have had such a smile. Without some grandeur of design no man ever displayed such a countenance and port, handsome and sublime. In his intentness and earnestness, he did not suspect the liability of his expressions to the charge of a vindictiveness he was unconscious of in his own breast. It was like a philippic of Demosthenes; it was a Ciceronian oration against some Catiline, real or supposed. A poetic sort of revenge was all he meant to take, although his language to opponents, whom perhaps he sometimes mistook, may be subject to blame. Pity he was so devoid of humor to recommend or soften his strokes! His old peace doctrine, doubtless, mainly prompted his battle-flag resolution, while the time of offering it and his nearly contemporaneous break with his party seemed to betray an unfair and personal bias of which he was unaware. Sensible of his great and long importance to the government, an egoistic, assuming, imperious, irascible inclination may to some have appeared to be disclosed; but he ingenuously felt he had a title to be consulted and that it was a slight and insult to set him aside. Let the administration that refused him as an instrument beware lest it become a hammer in the hands of inferior men, whose success will be suicide, and itself the tool! This may an inspiration from his coffin prevent! Massachusetts has honored herself at least as much as she did her son, and cast from yonder halls one ray of comfort on his seat in the Senate and on his death-bed in rescinding the censure on his course; for his memory is among her trophies,--no banner more so that hangs beneath the cupola above the marble floor,--and she is the inheritor of his renown; for if "Providence made Washington childless that the country might call him father," Sumner is without offspring that the State may be his mourner. This freedom from all selfish heat or hate, one distinction of the statesman from the politician, is a trait too rare to pass without emphasis and applause. An example, indeed, to the ordinary run of village contrivers, caucus packers, and municipal aspirants, of a man who never pulled a wire, rolled a log, laid a pipe, listened in a lobby, whispered in the ear what might not be proclaimed on the house-top, held a man by the button, or blew any trumpet but of the public good, however in his magnificent self-respect he might be falsely accused of wishing to blow only his own! If a jealous personal honor ever had apology or excuse, it was how ample and entire in the case of a man--the only one in our annals--appointed to wear the shining crown of martyrdom before his translation, to get up out of his own blood and recover from the foul assassin's bludgeon after medical tortures of the surgeon's moxa in combustion on his disabled spine, such as Sequard says he never applied to any other living creature.[A] So he rose to bear the same unflinching testimony, no more groaning under the fire of reproach than of the burning cotton; and if proud of his position, with perfect consistency modest too. I did not and at this distance of cooling time do not approve all the phraseology he employed on that senatorial occasion; but his weapons were words, and, however rough and affronting, for the right: those of his foes, equally gross and injurious, were for the wrong; and the assault of brutal force came to disturb the equation, in violation of all parliamentary privilege, with Douglas and his piratical compeers, with ill-disguised pleasure and half-pretended unconcern, looking on their own ignominy, crime, and shame, while the martyr that all but, yet not quite, expired, after years of suffering comes back, a resurrection witness not disposed of, and the assailant and would-be executioner dies long first, in Northern and Southern disgrace and his own remorse. At the same height with Milton in his blindness, Sumner, with his torn and aching nerves, like a soldier who will not leave the field for loss of blood, resumed the conflict, struggling with disappointment and sorrow in age and loneliness, still moving ever immediately against all the powers of evil and works of the devil, his white plume, like that of the French Prince he quoted, floating ever ahead to follow; like ex-President, Representative Adams, in his armor to the very edge and last of earth, like Buckle, talking in his agony of his book, and commending to survivors in Congress his beloved Civil Rights' Bill, dealing out well-directed blows for his race of every color and tribe till the instant the final stroke came to cut body and spirit apart. Truly, the halo of angelic glory hangs not only around the heads of dead saints! Such a man might be tempted to claim the honor of his fellow-men, and a lofty self-esteem and aspiration to the highest dignities hardly misbecame him, who, like Cato, was wrapped in conscious integrity, and established in the respect of all praiseworthy persons such a place. After the famous eulogy in his Phi Beta Kappa oration, of Pickering, Story, Allston, and Channing, the toast of John Quincy Adams was: "The memory of the scholar, jurist, artist, and divine,--and not the memory, but the long life of the kindred genius that has embalmed them all." Yet it has come for him also to a memory, and a noble one now. As a humble cotemporary I copy not others' impressions, but simply set down my own. Among his associates, the fault commonly found with Sumner is not that he was implacable--none easier to propitiate--but impracticable; not an idealist, but ideologist and doctrinary dreamer of a peace and freedom on earth which he put into no effective and satisfactory form; for ten thousand besides him recommended the Emancipation, which John Quincy Adams held justifiable as a war measure, and Lincoln proclaimed. But though the greatness of rulers and social founders is in what they establish and bring to pass, yet in default of this rare achievement, which happens seldom in the course of ages to any man, a certain impracticability is in others in many exigencies a blessing to be thankful for, a virtue to applaud. In the collisions of interest with principle are plenty to trim, compromise, and compound as oligarchs or demagogues bid; but as the merit of some substances is the lack of ductility, so how oft we must lean on unmalleable men, whose back-bone is not supple as a universal joint, who will not "crook the pregnant hinges of the knee where thrift may follow fawning," and who, in a noble discontent with all yet undertaken or done, summon to worthier performance towards never-attained perfection in betterment of the common lot. Mr. Rubinstein was displeased with the preacher who said, "Men must be expected to do no more than they can." "No," said the artist, "that doctrine letting down the standard is worse than actual vice. We can forgive the last, not the first!" Men must do the _impossible_,--a word which Napoleon told his officer was beastly, never to be spoken, and in his dictionary not found. "With God all things are possible," and that means possible to whoever works with Him. Said the pianist to his pupils, "If you do not expect or intend to write finer music than Beethoven, you have no business to compose at all." Mr. Sumner aimed at the sun; and the feeling of philanthropic duty with which he stirred the body politic out of the custom of chronic oppression and old habit of wrong was of more precious consequence than carrying any particular scheme. With this earnestness, that would not stop short of improving the world, I was struck in my last conversation with him on the threatened Spanish war. If he did not interest or magnetize everybody, all individuals, like Crittenden or Clay, few cared more for their kind; and this broad benevolence, as well as special affection, lays hold on immortality. Who shall say such as Agassiz and Sumner are dead? "A great man has fallen," said my friend: no, a good man has risen. Death brings simplicity and reality. As it approaches, learning and philosophy go; goodness and conscience are left, the last guests in the feast of life at the table of the heart. In Sumner the _sentiment_, foremost always, blooms at the pillow where last he laid, "so tired and weary," his head; and sentiment, as well as science, has eternal claim. He extends courtesy to callers, opens his eye while it could open, waves his hand while it had strength to move, says _Sit down_ to his old associate, tries to speak when the lips no longer obey the will, and sends a legacy of love and reverence more precious than any gold to his old friend. _Cold_ was he indeed? For his noble affections, how we shall remember the solitary and little-related man, with no children, when he was sad, to play with in his house! His thirst for knowledge, his bent to investigate and study whatever had been said and done in the world, would have made him an antiquarian save for his patriotic and humanitarian zeal. What a lover and knower he was of pictures, bronzes, manuscripts, old books, curious relics of the past, all memorials in all time of his fellow-men! Such research is a sort of humanity. Yet no man's sympathies were more in the present than his, or more eager to stretch after a perfected civilization in the future. Indeed, the millennial day shone so upon him through the vista of hope as to dazzle and blind him, like Saul on the road to Damascus, to the immediate possibilities of action and direct bearings of his theme. If there were any defect in his style, it was a certain lack of proportion, or an exceeding uniform stress, a straining forward against the leash of irrefragable circumstance, till in the ardor of pursuit the perspective of the subject was lost. But whatever might be the lesser vices, the great virtues were in his judgment and thought. He was an admirable inciter. How we needed incentives! He hallooed to a grander chase than any huntsman's. He was the Lamartine of America, _our_ orator of the human race. The Senate floor was to him a popular rostrum and sacred stump. He advocated every great cause if he found the key of none. He roused England and the United States, kindling into white heat, like dry wood, after such long seasoning, the Alabama difficulties, and compelling an attention which doubtless was good for both parties, although his extravagant statement of the doctrine of consequential damages could not settle the question, and failed of the seal and sanction of international law. More human than divine, his inspiration came from without rather than from within. The first time I saw him, forty years ago, with the same characteristic ornate and fervent language, and garnish of Latin references, he elucidated to me the difference between a pettifogger or litigious searcher for cases--a _præco actionum_ as he called him--and a jurist of the Judge Story stamp. Already he saw in faith the career for which he turned aside from every flattering offer that would divert him, conscious of superior ability to serve at the highest posts to which Democrat joined hands with Free Soiler to lead. Strange that the seemingly accidental, shall I say insincere, vote of a coalition should have furnished the most distinguished and perhaps longest continued Senator of the land! His empty chair on the Senate floor, drew, last week, at the obsequies, the spectators' eyes. But it was unoccupied that he might fill a higher seat prepared, waiting for, and needing, not the undying part but the everlasting whole; for we are not _whole_ till we drop our dust! Three funeral-sensations, I remember,--of Webster, the man of power, Lincoln, the man of providence, and Sumner, as I delight to call him, the man of purity. If the shadow of no demise ever brooded over this region as a huge pall, a black sheet let down from the sky, like that of the great New-Englander; and if no public sorrow in our day and generation was ever keener than when the martyr-president gave up the ghost at the revengeful stroke of the monster of political slavery, expiring, like a leviathan, under his hand; never was a more genuine tribute than will be laid on the Senator's tomb, or a completer satisfaction in an ended testimony and finished work, whatever part he left for us to finish. Several years ago, forced by illness away from the theatre of public duties and affairs into a country refuge, as the sounds came softened by distance from the arena at the capitol where the combatants struggled together, however pleasantly fell the counsels of moderation and prudence on my ear, I recognized the clarion of Sumner, urging to absolute truth and honor, and, far or near, resounding above them all. Here was a man that could not bend or yield, alloy or qualify, surrender or retreat. Here was an incorruptibility proof against bribes, and too original in legislatives halls, an originality, if not of suggestion yet of heroic act. Here was an obstinacy not of will, but idea; for ideas are more obstinate than any human will in the world. Here was a necessity not of whim but duty, such as was laid on the great apostle to the Gentiles to preach the Gospel, and drove Luther to the Diet of Worms. I aim at simple truth as I speak. Such stubbornness will surely accomplish great results and always fetch an echo from the human breast. I abstain from overstatement. Love must not falsify or exaggerate. It is no compliment to exalt another by belying ourselves. Our friend belongs to history now; and the offerings of a discriminating respect are part of its material. I must think of him less as hewn by the Divinity than carving himself. Like one of the straws a swallow bears to build its nest, let my poor word go to the fashioning by many hands, of the niche of his fame. His head had its limits; but there was no outside to his heart! The great man's servant, secretary, keeper of his house, farmer of his estate, has something valuable to say of him; and the humblest coeval's contribution will not be refused or despised. Voicing the feeling of no party, for him or against, I but touch the ground of that secret respect to his character and aim which not only favorers but foes are constrained, unitedly, unanimously, instinctively, to pay. "Little heeds he what is said; They have done with all below;" Such were the commonplaces of the old theology founded on the notion of a senseless rest of the dead, or their departure to an infinite distance from our earthly abode. But we reconsider such views. He, who was so sensitive to his fellow-citizens' regard, can hardly be insensible now, or unconscious of our sincere honor. I would speak as in his presence and to his ear! His clear voice will be no longer heard in our assemblies, or his commanding form cast its welcome shadow through our streets. But the moral stature, with which, as in mental height, he transcended the common sons of men, shall be seen and felt. Nor can the recollection for ages pass how, as a brave knight, with superb courage, horsed on ideas for the saving of the land, he flung defiance from boldness unsurpassed at the giant wrong,--that dragon and old serpent, the form Satan took for us, the _Barbarism of Slavery_, and _Slavery sectional not national_, as he entitled the greatest speeches he made. His somewhat artificial manner, method, and phrase only clothed or cloaked an indigenous force of conscience, which was a piece of nature, a divine monolith or monogram, if his intellect were not. His meaning no man, white or black, in the land doubted or could misunderstand. If his forensic efforts had been to a nice taste better in some respects, the improvement might have made them in others for general effect worse or of less effect. They were at least faithfully prepared from a width of observation and stock of information seldom equalled, and set forth with a consecutive order of formal logic worthy of a master in the schools. Twice has been his conspicuous entry into this town: first, after he was outraged for his freedom of utterance in his place; next, yesterday, in whatever connection the spirit may have with the forsaken robe which it cannot desert or lose all feeling for at once. How, but as a man of principle, shall he stand for-ever in our memory and in the human mind? Let his name, like that of Washington, be a lasting rebuke to venality, selfish ambition, bribery, and all political intrigue! He is one more added to the band of blessed bigots which, wiser than any conformists, all our pilgrim fathers were. "You can rest soon," he said to the familiar friend and companion in clerkly labor who was rubbing the hands fast growing cold in death. No chafing can restore what turns to the clay of which it was made. The flowers you form into his name will fade, but to cherish his honor we will never cease. Let his body be "buried in peace: his name liveth evermore." * * * * * FOOTNOTES: [A] "Will chloroform make the operation less beneficial?" he asked. "I could not lie," said the Doctor, "and said, Yes."--"Then I will not take it," he replied. * * * * * 
2458	----	DISCOURSES*** Transcribed from the 1883 Cassell & Co. edition by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk. SERMONS ON THE CARD AND OTHER DISCOURSES by Hugh Latimer INTRODUCTION. Hugh Latimer, a farmer's son, was born about the year 1491, at Thurcaston, in Leicestershire. He was an only son, with six sisters, who were all well cared for at home. He was a boy of fourteen when sent to Clare College, Cambridge. When about twenty-four years old, he had obtained a college fellowship, had taken the degree of Master of Arts, and was ordained Priest of the Roman Church at Lincoln. In 1524, at the age of about thirty, he proceeded to the degree of B.D., and on the occasion of his doing so he argued publicly for the Pope's authority against opinions of Melancthon. Thomas Bilney went afterwards to Latimer's rooms, gave him his own reasons for good-will to the teaching of Melancthon, and explained to him his faith as a Reformer in a way that secured Latimer's attention. Latimer's free, vigorous mind, admitted the new reasonings, and in his after-life he looked always upon "little Bilney" as the man who had first opened his eyes. With homely earnestness Latimer began soon to express his new convictions. His zeal and purity of life had caused him to be trusted by the University as a maintainer of old ways; he had been appointed cross- bearer to the University, and elected one of the twelve preachers annually appointed in obedience to a bull of Pope Alexander VI. Now Latimer walked and worked with Bilney, visiting the sick and the prisoners, and reasoning together of the needs of Christendom. The Bishop of the diocese presently forbade Latimer's preaching in any of the pulpits of the University. Robert Barnes, prior of the Augustinian Friars at Cambridge, a man stirred to the depths by the new movement of thought, then invited Latimer to preach in the church of the Augustinians. Latimer was next summoned before Wolsey, whom he satisfied so well that Wolsey overruled the Bishop's inhibition, and Latimer again became a free preacher in Cambridge. The influence of Latimer's preaching became every year greater; and in December, 1529, he gave occasion to new controversy in the University by his two Sermons on the Card, delivered in St. Edward's Church, on the Sunday before Christmas, 1529. Card-playing was in those days an amusement especially favoured at Christmas time. Latimer does not express disapproval, though the Reformers generally were opposed to it. The early statutes of St. John's College, Cambridge, forbade playing with dice or cards by members of the college at any time except Christmas, but excluded undergraduates even from the Christmas privilege. In these sermons Latimer used the card-playing of the season for illustrations of spiritual truth drawn from the trump card in triumph, and the rules of the game of primero. His homely parables enforced views of religious duty more in accordance with the mind of the Reformers than of those who held by the old ways. The Prior of the Dominicans at Cambridge tried to answer Latimer's sermon on the cards with an antagonistic sermon on the dice: the orthodox Christian was to win by a throw of cinque and quatre--the cinque, five texts to be quoted against Luther; and the quatre the four great doctors of the Church. Latimer replied with vigour; others ranged themselves on one side or the other, and there was general battle in the University; but the King's Almoner soon intervened with a letter commanding silence on both sides till the King's pleasure was further declared. The King's good-will to Latimer was due, as the letter indicated, to the understanding that Latimer "favoured the King's cause" in the question of divorce from Katherine of Arragon. In March, 1530, Latimer was called to preach before Henry VIII., at Windsor. The King then made Latimer his chaplain, and in the following year gave him the rectory of West Kington, in Wiltshire. The new rector, soon accused of heresy, was summoned before the Bishop of London and before Convocation; was excommunicated and imprisoned, and absolved by special request of the King. When Cranmer became Archbishop of Canterbury, Latimer returned into royal favour, and preached before the King on Wednesdays in Lent. In 1535, when an Italian nominee of the Pope's was deprived of the Bishopric of Worcester, Latimer was made his successor; but resigned in 1539, when the King, having virtually made himself Pope, dictated to a tractable parliament enforcement of old doctrines by an Act for Abolishing Diversity of Opinion. From that time until the death of Henry VIII. Latimer was in disgrace. The accession of Edward VI. brought him again to the front, and the Sermon on the Plough, in this volume, is a famous example of his use of his power under Edward VI., as the greatest preacher of his time, in forwarding the Reformation of the Church, and of the lives of those who professed and called themselves Christians. The rest of his story will be associated in another volume of this Library with a collection of his later sermons. H. M. SERMONS ON THE CARD. THE TENOR AND EFFECT OF CERTAIN SERMONS MADE BY MASTER LATIMER IN CAMBRIDGE, ABOUT THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1529. _Tu quis es_? Which words are as much to say in English, "Who art thou?" These be the words of the Pharisees, which were sent by the Jews unto St. John Baptist in the wilderness, to have knowledge of him who he was: which words they spake unto him of an evil intent, thinking that he would have taken on him to be Christ, and so they would have had him done with their good wills, because they knew that he was more carnal, and given to their laws, than Christ indeed should be, as they perceived by their old prophecies; and also, because they marvelled much of his great doctrine, preaching, and baptizing, they were in doubt whether he was Christ or not: wherefore they said unto him, "Who art thou?" Then answered St. John, and confessed that he was not Christ. Now here is to be noted the great and prudent answer of St. John Baptist unto the Pharisees, that when they required of him who he was, he would not directly answer of himself what he was himself, but he said he was not Christ: by the which saying he thought to put the Jews and Pharisees out of their false opinion and belief towards him, in that they would have had him to exercise the office of Christ; and so declared further unto them of Christ, saying, "He is in the midst of you and amongst you, whom ye know not, whose latchet of his shoe I am not worthy to unloose, or undo." By this you may perceive that St. John spake much in the laud and praise of Christ his Master, professing himself to be in no wise like unto him. So likewise it shall be necessary unto all men and women of this world, not to ascribe unto themselves any goodness of themselves, but all unto our Lord God, as shall appear hereafter, when this question aforesaid, "Who art thou?" shall be moved unto them: not as the Pharisees did unto St. John, of an evil purpose, but of a good and simple mind, as may appear hereafter. Now then, according to the preacher's mind, let every man and woman, of a good and simple mind, contrary to the Pharisees' intent, ask this question, "Who art thou?" This question must be moved to themselves, what they be of themselves, on this fashion: "What art thou of thy only and natural generation between father and mother, when thou camest into this world? What substance, what virtue, what goodness art thou of, by thyself?" Which question if thou rehearse oftentimes unto thyself, thou shalt well perceive and understand how thou shalt make answer unto it; which must be made on this wise: I am of myself, and by myself, coming from my natural father and mother, the child of the ire and indignation of God, the true inheritor of hell, a lump of sin, and working nothing of myself but all towards hell, except I have better help of another than I have of myself. Now we may see in what state we enter into this world, that we be of ourselves the true and just inheritors of hell, the children of the ire and indignation of Christ, working all towards hell, whereby we deserve of ourselves perpetual damnation, by the right judgment of God, and the true claim of ourselves; which unthrifty state that we be born unto is come unto us for our own deserts, as proveth well this example following: Let it be admitted for the probation of this, that it might please the king's grace now being to accept into his favour a mean man, of a simple degree and birth, not born to any possession; whom the king's grace favoureth, not because this person hath of himself deserved any such favour, but that the king casteth this favour unto him of his own mere motion and fantasy: and for because the king's grace will more declare his favour unto him, he giveth unto this said man a thousand pounds in lands, to him and his heirs, on this condition, that he shall take upon him to be the chief captain and defender of his town of Calais, and to be true and faithful to him in the custody of the same, against the Frenchmen especially, above all other enemies. This man taketh on him this charge, promising his fidelity thereunto. It chanceth in process of time, that by the singular acquaintance and frequent familiarity of this captain with the Frenchmen, these Frenchmen give unto the said captain of Calais a great sum of money, so that he will but be content and agreeable that they may enter into the said town of Calais by force of arms; and so thereby possess the same unto the crown of France. Upon this agreement the Frenchmen do invade the said town of Calais, alonely by the negligence of this captain. Now the king's grace, hearing of this invasion, cometh with a great puissance to defend this his said town, and so by good policy of war overcometh the said Frenchmen, and entereth again into his said town of Calais. Then he, being desirous to know how these enemies of his came thither, maketh profound search and inquiry by whom this treason was conspired. By this search it was known and found his own captain to be the very author and the beginner of the betraying of it. The king, seeing the great infidelity of this person, dischargeth this man of his office, and taketh from him and from his heirs this thousand pounds of possessions. Think you not that the king doth use justice unto him, and all his posterity and heirs? Yes, truly: the said captain cannot deny himself but that he had true justice, considering how unfaithfully he behaved him to his prince, contrary to his own fidelity and promise. So likewise it was of our first father Adam. He had given unto him the spirit of science and knowledge, to work all goodness therewith: this said spirit was not given alonely unto him, but unto all his heirs and posterity. He had also delivered him the town of Calais; that is to say, paradise in earth, the most strong and fairest town in the world, to be in his custody. He nevertheless, by the instigation of these Frenchmen, that is to say, the temptation of the fiend, did obey unto their desire; and so he brake his promise and fidelity, the commandment of the everlasting King his master, in eating of the apple by him inhibited. Now then the King, seeing this great treason in his captain, deposed him of the thousand pounds of possessions, that is to say, from everlasting life in glory, and all his heirs and posterity: for likewise as he had the spirit of science and knowledge, for him and his heirs; so in like manner, when he lost the same, his heirs also lost it by him and in him. So now this example proveth, that by our father Adam we had once in him the very inheritance of everlasting joy; and by him, and in him, again we lost the same. The heirs of the captain of Calais could not by any manner of claim ask of the king the right and title of their father in the thousand pounds of possessions, by reason the king might answer and say unto them, that although their father deserved not of himself to enjoy so great possessions, yet he deserved by himself to lose them, and greater, committing so high treason, as he did, against his prince's commandments; whereby he had no wrong to lose his title, but was unworthy to have the same, and had therein true justice. Let not you think, which be his heirs, that if he had justice to lose his possessions, you have wrong to lose the same. In the same manner it may be answered unto all men and women now being, that if our father Adam had true justice to be excluded from his possession of everlasting glory in paradise, let us not think the contrary that be his heirs, but that we have no wrong in losing also the same; yea, we have true justice and right. Then in what miserable estate we be, that of the right and just title of our own deserts have lost the everlasting joy, and claim of ourselves to be true inheritors of hell! For he that committeth deadly sin willingly, bindeth himself to be inheritor of everlasting pain: and so did our forefather Adam willingly eat of the apple forbidden. Wherefore he was cast out of the everlasting joy in paradise into this corrupt world, amongst all vileness, whereby of himself he was not worthy to do any thing laudable or pleasant to God, evermore bound to corrupt affections and beastly appetites, transformed into the most uncleanest and variablest nature that was made under heaven; of whose seed and disposition all the world is lineally descended, insomuch that this evil nature is so fused and shed from one into another, that at this day there is no man nor woman living that can of themselves wash away this abominable vileness: and so we must needs grant of ourselves to be in like displeasure unto God, as our forefather Adam was. By reason hereof as I said, we be of ourselves the very children of the indignation and vengeance of God, the true inheritors of hell, and working all towards hell: which is the answer to this question, made to every man and woman, by themselves, "Who art thou?" And now, the world standing in this damnable state, cometh in the occasion of the incarnation of Christ. The Father in heaven, perceiving the frail nature of man, that he, by himself and of himself, could do nothing for himself, by his prudent wisdom sent down the second person in Trinity, his Son Jesus Christ, to declare unto man his pleasure and commandment: and so, at the Father's will, Christ took on him human nature, being willing to deliver man out of this miserable way, and was content to suffer cruel passion in shedding his blood for all mankind; and so left behind for our safeguard laws and ordinances, to keep us always in the right path unto everlasting life, as the evangelists, the sacraments, the commandments, and so forth: which, if we do keep and observe according to our profession, we shall answer better unto this question, "Who art thou?" than we did before. For before thou didst enter into the sacrament of baptism, thou wert but a natural man, a natural woman; as I might say, a man, a woman: but after thou takest on thee Christ's religion, thou hast a longer name; for then thou art a christian man, a christian woman. Now then, seeing thou art a christian man, what shall be thy answer of this question, "Who art thou?" The answer of this question is, when I ask it unto myself, I must say that I am a christian man, a christian woman, the child of everlasting joy, through the merits of the bitter passion of Christ. This is a joyful answer. Here we may see how much we be bound and in danger unto God, that hath revived us from death to life, and saved us that were damned: which great benefit we cannot well consider, unless we do remember what we were of ourselves before we meddled with him or his laws; and the more we know our feeble nature, and set less by it, the more we shall conceive and know in our hearts what God hath done for us; and the more we know what God hath done for us, the less we shall set by ourselves, and the more we shall love and please God: so that in no condition we shall either know ourselves or God, except we do utterly confess ourselves to be mere vileness and corruption. Well, now it is come unto this point, that we be christian men, christian women, I pray you what doth Christ require of a christian man, or of a christian woman? Christ requireth nothing else of a christian man or woman, but that they will observe his rule: for likewise as he is a good Augustine friar that keepeth well St. Augustine's rule, so is he a good christian man that keepeth well Christ's rule. Now then, what is Christ's rule? Christ's rule consisteth in many things, as in the commandments, and the works of mercy, and so forth. And for because I cannot declare Christ's rule unto you at one time, as it ought to be done, I will apply myself according to your custom at this time of Christmas: I will, as I said, declare unto you Christ's rule, but that shall be in Christ's cards. And whereas you are wont to celebrate Christmas in playing at cards, I intend, by God's grace, to deal unto you Christ's cards, wherein you shall perceive Christ's rule. The game that we will play at shall be called the triumph, which, if it be well played at, he that dealeth shall win; the players shall likewise win; and the standers and lookers upon shall do the same; insomuch that there is no man that is willing to play at this triumph with these cards, but they shall be all winners, and no losers. Let therefore every christian man and woman play at these cards, that they may have and obtain the triumph: you must mark also that the triumph must apply to fetch home unto him all the other cards, whatsoever suit they be of. Now then, take ye this first card, which must appear and be shewed unto you as followeth: you have heard what was spoken to men of the old law, "Thou shalt not kill; whosoever shall kill shall be in danger of judgment: but I say unto you" of the new law, saith Christ, "that whosoever is angry with his neighbour, shall be in danger of judgment; and whosoever shall say unto his neighbour, 'Raca,' that is to say, brainless," or any other like word of rebuking, "shall be in danger of council; and whosoever shall say unto his neighbour, 'Fool,' shall be in danger of hell-fire." This card was made and spoken by Christ, as appeareth in the fifth chapter of St. Matthew. Now it must be noted, that whosoever shall play with this card, must first, before they play with it, know the strength and virtue of the same: wherefore you must well note and mark terms, how they be spoken, and to what purpose. Let us therefore read it once or twice, that we may be the better acquainted with it. Now behold and see, this card is divided into four parts: the first part is one of the commandments that was given unto Moses in the old law, before the coming of Christ; which commandment we of the new law be bound to observe and keep, and it is one of our commandments. The other three parts spoken by Christ be nothing else but expositions unto the first part of this commandment: for in very effect all these four parts be but one commandment, that is to say, "Thou shalt not kill." Yet nevertheless, the last three parts do shew unto thee how many ways thou mayest kill thy neighbour contrary to this commandment: yet, for all Christ's exposition in the three last parts of this card, the terms be not open enough to thee that dost read and hear them spoken. No doubt, the Jews understood Christ well enough, when he spake to them these three last sentences; for he spake unto them in their own natural terms and tongue. Wherefore, seeing that these terms were natural terms of the Jews, it shall be necessary to expound them, and compare them unto some like terms of our natural speech, that we, in like manner, may understand Christ as well as the Jews did. We will begin first with the first part of this card, and then after, with the other three parts. You must therefore understand that the Jews and the Pharisees of the old law, to whom this first part, this commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," was spoken, thought it sufficient and enough for their discharge, not to kill with any manner of material weapon, as sword, dagger, or with any such weapon; and they thought it no great fault whatsoever they said or did by their neighbours, so that they did not harm or meddle with their corporal bodies: which was a false opinion in them, as prove well the three last other sentences following the first part of this card. Now, as touching the three other sentences, you must note and take heed, what difference is between these three manner of offences: to be angry with your neighbour; to call your neighbour "brainless," or any such word of disdain; or to call your neighbour "fool." Whether these three manner of offences be of themselves more grievous one than the other, it is to be opened unto you. Truly, as they be of themselves divers offences, so they kill diversly, one more than the other; as you shall perceive by the first of these three, and so forth. A man which conceiveth against his neighbour or brother ire or wrath in his mind, by some manner of occasion given unto him, although he be angry in his mind against his said neighbour, he will peradventure express his ire by no manner of sign, either in word or deed: yet, nevertheless, he offendeth against God, and breaketh this commandment in killing his own soul; and is therefore "in danger of judgment." Now, to the second part of these three: That man that is moved with ire against his neighbour, and in his ire calleth his neighbour "brainless," or some other like word of displeasure; as a man might say in a fury, "I shall handle thee well enough;" which words and countenances do more represent and declare ire to be in this man, than in him that was but angry, and spake no manner of word nor shewed any countenance to declare his ire. Wherefore as he that so declareth his ire either by word or countenance offendeth more against God, so he both killeth his own soul, and doth that in him is to kill his neighbour's soul in moving him unto ire, wherein he is faulty himself; and so this man is "in danger of council." Now to the third offence, and last of these three: That man that calleth his neighbour "fool," doth more declare his angry mind toward him, than he that called his neighbour but "brainless," or any such words moving ire: for to call a man "fool," that word representeth more envy in a man than "brainless" doth. Wherefore he doth most offend, because he doth most earnestly with such words express his ire, and so he is "in danger of hell-fire." Wherefore you may understand now, these three parts of this card be three offences, and that one is more grievous to God than the other, and that one killeth more the soul of man than the other. Now peradventure there be some that will marvel, that Christ did not declare this commandment by some greater faults of ire, than by these which seem but small faults, as to be angry and speak nothing of it, to declare it and to call a man "brainless," and to call his neighbour "fool:" truly these be the smallest and the least faults that belong to ire, or to killing in ire. Therefore beware how you offend in any kind of ire: seeing that the smallest be damnable to offend in, see that you offend not in the greatest. For Christ thought, if he might bring you from the smallest manner of faults, and give you warning to avoid the least, he reckoned you would not offend in the greatest and worst, as to call your neighbour thief, whoreson, whore, drab, and so forth, into more blasphemous names; which offences must needs have punishment in hell, considering how that Christ hath appointed these three small faults to have three degrees of punishment in hell, as appeareth by these three terms, judgment, council, and hell-fire. These three terms do signify nothing else but three divers punishments in hell, according to the offences. Judgment is less in degree than council, therefore it signifieth a lesser pain in hell, and it is ordained for him that is angry in his mind with his neighbour, and doth express his malice neither by word nor countenance: council is a less degree in hell than hell-fire, and is a greater degree in hell than judgment; and it is ordained for him that calleth his neighbour "brainless," or any such word, that declareth his ire and malice: wherefore it is more pain than judgment. Hell-fire is more pain in hell than council or judgment, and it is ordained for him that calleth his neighbour "fool," by reason that in calling his neighbour "fool," he declareth more his malice, in that it is an earnest word of ire: wherefore hell-fire is appointed for it; that is, the most pain of the three punishments. Now you have heard, that to these divers offences of ire and killing be appointed punishments according to their degrees: for look as the offence is, so shall the pain be: if the offence be great, the pain shall be according; if it be less, there shall be less pain for it. I would not now that you should think, because that here are but three degrees of punishment spoken of, that there be no more in hell. No doubt Christ spake of no more here but of these three degrees of punishment, thinking they were sufficient, enough for example, whereby we might understand that there be as divers and many pains as there be offences: and so by these three offences, and these three punishments, all other offences and punishments may be compared with another. Yet I would satisfy your minds further in these three terms, of "judgment, council, and hell-fire." Whereas you might say, What was the cause that Christ declared more the pains of hell by these terms than by any other terms? I told you afore that he knew well to whom he spake them. These terms were natural and well known amongst the Jews and the Pharisees: wherefore Christ taught them with their own terms, to the intent they might understand the better his doctrine. And these terms may be likened unto three terms which we have common and usual amongst us, that is to say, the sessions of inquirance, the sessions of deliverance, and the execution-day. Sessions of inquirance is like unto judgment; for when sessions of inquiry is, then the judges cause twelve men to give verdict of the felon's crime, whereby he shall be judged to be indicted: sessions of deliverance is much like council; for at sessions of deliverance the judges go among themselves to council, to determine sentence against the felon: execution- day is to be compared unto hell-fire; for the Jews had amongst themselves a place of execution, named "hell-fire:" and surely when a man goeth to his death, it is the greatest pain in this world. Wherefore you may see that there are degrees in these our terms, as there be in those terms. These evil-disposed affections and sensualities in us are always contrary to the rule of our salvation. What shall we do now or imagine to thrust down these Turks and to subdue them? It is a great ignominy and shame for a christian man to be bond and subject unto a Turk: nay, it shall not be so; we will first cast a trump in their way, and play with them at cards, who shall have the better. Let us play therefore on this fashion with this card. Whensoever it shall happen the foul passions and Turks to rise in our stomachs against our brother or neighbour, either for unkind words, injuries, or wrongs, which they have done unto us, contrary unto our mind; straightways let us call unto our remembrance, and speak this question unto ourselves, "Who art thou?" The answer is, "I am a christian man." Then further we must say to ourselves, "What requireth Christ of a christian man?" Now turn up your trump, your heart (hearts is trump, as I said before), and cast your trump, your heart, on this card; and upon this card you shall learn what Christ requireth of a christian man--not to be angry, nor moved to ire against his neighbour, in mind, countenance, nor other ways, by word or deed. Then take up this card with your heart, and lay them together: that done, you have won the game of the Turk, whereby you have defaced and overcome him by true and lawful play. But, alas for pity! the Rhodes are won and overcome by these false Turks; the strong castle Faith is decayed, so that I fear it is almost impossible to win it again. The great occasion of the loss of this Rhodes is by reason that christian men do so daily kill their own nation, that the very true number of Christianity is decayed; which murder and killing one of another is increased specially two ways, to the utter undoing of Christendom, that is to say, by example and silence. By example, as thus: when the father, the mother, the lord, the lady, the master, the dame, be themselves overcome by these Turks, they be continual swearers, avouterers, disposers to malice, never in patience, and so forth in all other vices: think you not, when the father, the mother, the master, the dame, be disposed unto vice or impatience, but that their children and servants shall incline and be disposed to the same? No doubt, as the child shall take disposition natural of the father and mother, so shall the servants apply unto the vices of their masters and dames: if the heads be false in their faculties and crafts, it is no marvel if the children, servants, and apprentices do joy therein. This is a great and shameful manner of killing christian men, that the fathers, the mothers, the masters, and the dames shall not alonely kill themselves, but all theirs, and all that belongeth unto them: and so this way is a great number of christian lineage murdered and spoiled. The second manner of killing is silence. By silence also is a great number of christian men slain; which is on this fashion: although that the father and mother, master and dame, of themselves be well disposed to live according to the law of God, yet they may kill their children and servants in suffering them to do evil before their own faces, and do not use due correction according unto their offences. The master seeth his servant or apprentice take more of his neighbour than the king's laws, or the order of his faculty, doth admit him; or that he suffereth him to take more of his neighbour than he himself would be content to pay, if he were in like condition: thus doing, I say, such men kill willingly their children and servants, and shall go to hell for so doing; but also their fathers and mothers, masters and dames, shall bear them company for so suffering them. Wherefore I exhort all true christian men and women to give good example unto your children and servants, and suffer not them by silence to offend. Every man must be in his own house, according to St. Augustine's mind, a bishop, not alonely giving good ensample, but teaching according to it, rebuking and punishing vice; not suffering your children and servants to forget the laws of God. You ought to see them have their belief, to know the commandments of God, to keep their holy-days, not to lose their time in idleness: if they do so, you shall all suffer pain for it, if God be true of his saying, as there is no doubt thereof. And so you may perceive that there be many a one that breaketh this card, "Thou shalt not kill," and playeth therewith oftentime at the blind trump, whereby they be no winners, but great losers. But who be those now-a- days that can clear themselves of these manifest murders used to their children and servants? I think not the contrary, but that many have these two ways slain their own children unto their damnation; unless the great mercy of God were ready to help them when they repent there-for. Wherefore, considering that we be so prone and ready to continue in sin, let us cast down ourselves with Mary Magdalene; and the more we bow down with her toward Christ's feet, the more we shall be afraid to rise again in sin; and the more we know and submit ourselves, the more we shall be forgiven; and the less we know and submit ourselves, the less we shall be forgiven; as appeareth by this example following: Christ, when he was in this world, amongst the Jews and Pharisees, there was a great Pharisee whose name was Simon: this Pharisee desired Christ on a time to dine with him, thinking in himself that he was able and worthy to give Christ a dinner. Christ refused not his dinner, but came unto him. In time of their dinner it chanced there came into the house a great and a common sinner named Mary Magdalene. As soon as she perceived Christ, she cast herself down, and called unto her remembrance what she was of herself, and how greatly she had offended God; whereby she conceived in Christ great love, and so came near unto him, and washed his feet with bitter tears, and shed upon his head precious ointment, thinking that by him she should be delivered from her sins. This great and proud Pharisee, seeing that Christ did accept her oblation in the best part, had great indignation against this woman, and said to himself, "If this man Christ were a holy prophet, as he is taken for, he would not suffer this sinner to come so nigh him." Christ, understanding the naughty mind of this Pharisee, said unto him, "Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee." "Say what you please," quod the Pharisee. Then said Christ, "I pray thee, tell me this: If there be a man to whom is owing twenty pound by one, and forty by another, this man to whom this money is owing, perceiving these two men be not able to pay him, he forgiveth them both: which of these two debtors ought to love this man most?" The Pharisee said, "That man ought to love him best, that had most forgiven him." "Likewise," said Christ, "it is by this woman: she hath loved me most, therefore most is forgiven her; she hath known her sins most, whereby she hath most loved me. And thou hast least loved me, because thou hast least known thy sins: therefore, because thou hast least known thine offences, thou art least forgiven." So this proud Pharisee had an answer to delay his pride. And think you not, but that there be amongst us a great number of these proud Pharisees, which think themselves worthy to bid Christ to dinner; which will perk, and presume to sit by Christ in the church, and have a disdain of this poor woman Magdalene, their poor neighbour, with a high, disdainous, and solemn countenance? And being always desirous to climb highest in the church, reckoning themselves more worthy to sit there than another, I fear me poor Magdalene under the board, and in the belfry, hath more forgiven of Christ than they have: for it is like that those Pharisees do less know themselves and their offences, whereby they less love God, and so they be less forgiven. I would to God we would follow this example, and be like unto Magdalene. I doubt not but we be all Magdalenes in falling into sin and in offending: but we be not again Magdalenes in knowing ourselves, and in rising from sin. If we be the true Magdalenes, we should be as willing to forsake our sin and rise from sin, as we were willing to commit sin and to continue in it; and we then should know ourselves best, and make more perfect answer than ever we did unto this question, "Who art thou?" to the which we might answer, that we be true christian men and women: and then, I say, you should understand, and know how you ought to play at this card, "Thou shalt not kill," without any interruption of your deadly enemies the Turks; and so triumph at the last, by winning everlasting life in glory. Amen. ANOTHER SERMON OF M. LATIMER, CONCERNING THE SAME MATTER. Now you have heard what is meant by this first card, and how you ought to play with it, I purpose again to deal unto you another card, almost of the same suit; for they be of so nigh affinity, that one cannot be well played without the other. The first card declared, that you should not kill, which might be done divers ways; as being angry with your neighbour, in mind, in countenance, in word, or deed: it declared also, how you should subdue the passions of ire, and so clear evermore yourselves from them. And whereas this first card doth kill in you these stubborn Turks of ire; this second card will not only they should be mortified in you, but that you yourselves shall cause them to be likewise mortified in your neighbour, if that your said neighbour hath been through your occasion moved unto ire, either in countenance, word, or deed. Now let us hear therefore the tenor of this card: "When thou makest thine oblation at mine altar, and there dost remember that thy neighbour hath any thing against thee, lay down there thy oblation, and go first and reconcile thy neighbour, and then come and offer thy oblation." This card was spoken by Christ, as testifieth St. Matthew in his fifth chapter, against all such as do presume to come unto the church to make oblation unto God either by prayer, or any other deed of charity, not having their neighbours reconciled. Reconciling is as much to say as to restore thy neighbour unto charity, which by thy words or deeds is moved against thee: then, if so be it that thou hast spoken to or by thy neighbour, whereby he is moved to ire or wrath, thou must lay down thy oblation. Oblations be prayers, alms-deeds, or any work of charity: these be all called oblations to God. Lay down therefore thine oblation; begin to do none of these foresaid works before thou goest unto thy neighbour, and confess thy fault unto him; declaring thy mind, that if thou hast offended him, thou art glad and willing to make him amends, as far forth as thy words and substance will extend, requiring him not to take it at the worst: thou art sorry in thy mind, that thou shouldest be occasion of his offending. "What manner of card is this?" will some say: "Why, what have I to do with my neighbour's or brother's malice?" As Cain said, "Have I the keeping of my brother? or shall I answer for him and for his faults? This were no reason--As for myself, I thank God I owe no man malice nor displeasure: if others owe me any, at their own peril be it. Let every man answer for himself!" Nay, sir, not so, as you may understand by this card; for it saith, "If thy neighbour hath anything, any malice against thee, through thine occasion, lay even down (saith Christ) thine oblation: pray not to me; do no good deeds for me; but go first unto thy neighbour, and bring him again unto my flock, which hath forsaken the same through thy naughty words, mocks, scorns, or disdainous countenance, and so forth; and then come and offer thine oblation; then do thy devotion; then do thy alms-deeds; then pray, if thou wilt have me hear thee." "O good Lord! this is a hard reckoning, that I must go and seek him out that is offended with me, before I pray or do any good deed. I cannot go unto him. Peradventure he is a hundred miles from me, beyond the seas; or else I cannot tell where: if he were here nigh, I would with all my heart go unto him." This is a lawful excuse before God on this fashion, that thou wouldest in thy heart be glad to reconcile thy neighbour, if he were present; and that thou thinkest in thy heart, whensoever thou shalt meet with him, to go unto him, and require him charitably to forgive thee; and so never intend to come from him, until the time that you both depart one from the other true brethren in Christ. Yet, peradventure, there be some in the world that be so devilish, and so hard-hearted, that they will not apply in any condition unto charity. For all that, do what lieth in thee, by all charitable means, to bring him to unity. If he will in no wise apply thereunto, thou mayest be sorrowful in thy heart, that by thine occasion that man or woman continueth in such a damnable state. This notwithstanding, if thou do the best that lieth in thee to reconcile him, according to some doctors' mind, thou art discharged towards God. Nevertheless St. Augustine doubteth in this case, whether thy oblations, prayers, or good deeds, shall avail thee before God, or no, until thy neighbour come again to good state, whom thou hast brought out of the way. Doth this noble doctor doubt therein? What aileth us to be so bold, and count it but a small fault, or none, to bring our neighbour out of patience for every trifle that standeth not with our mind? You may see what a grievous thing this is, to bring another man out of patience, that peradventure you cannot bring in again with all the goods that you have: for surely, after the opinion of great wise men, friendship once broken will be never well made whole again. Wherefore you shall hear what Christ saith unto such persons. Saith Christ, "I came down into this world, and so took on me bitter passion for man's sake, by the merits whereof I intended to make unity and peace in mankind, to make man brother unto me, and so to expel the dominion of Satan, the devil, which worketh nothing else but dissension: and yet now there be a great number of you, that have professed my name, and say you be christian men, which do rebel against my purpose and mind. I go about to make my fold: you go about to break the same, and kill my flock." "How darest thou," saith Christ, "presume to come unto my altar, unto my church, or into my presence, to make oblation unto me, that takest on thee to spoil my lambs? I go about like a good shepherd to gather them together; and thou dost the contrary, evermore ready to divide and lose them. Who made thee so bold to meddle with my silly beasts, which I bought so dearly with my precious blood? I warn thee out of my sight, come not in my presence: I refuse thee and all thy works, except thou go and bring home again my lambs which thou hast lost. Wherefore, if thou thyself intend to be one of mine, lay even down by and by thine oblation, and come no further toward mine altar; but go and seek them without any questions, as it becometh a true and faithful servant." A true and faithful servant, whensoever his master commandeth him to do any thing, he maketh no stops nor questions, but goeth forth with a good mind: and it is not unlike he, continuing in such a good mind and will, shall well overcome all dangers and stops, whatsoever betide him in his journey, and bring to pass effectually his master's will and pleasure? On the contrary, a slothful servant, when his master commandeth him to do any thing, by and by he will ask questions, "Where?" "When?" "Which way?" and so forth; and so be putteth every thing in doubt, that although both his errand and way be never so plain, yet by his untoward and slothful behaviour his master's commandment is either undone quite, or else so done that it shall stand to no good purpose. Go now forth with the good servant, and ask no such questions, and put no doubts. Be not ashamed to do thy Master's and Lord's will and commandment. Go, as I said, unto thy neighbour that is offended by thee, and reconcile him (as is afore said) whom thou hast lost by thy unkind words, by thy scorns, mocks, and other disdainous words and behaviours; and be not nice to ask of him the cause why he is displeased with thee: require of him charitably to remit; and cease not till you both depart, one from the other, true brethren in Christ. Do not, like the slothful servant, thy master's message with cautels and doubts: come not to thy neighbour whom thou hast offended, and give him a pennyworth of ale, or a banquet, and so make him a fair countenance, thinking that by thy drink or dinner he will shew thee like countenance. I grant you may both laugh and make good cheer, and yet there may remain a bag of rusty malice, twenty years old, in thy neighbour's bosom. When he departeth from thee with a good countenance, thou thinkest all is well then. But now, I tell thee, it is worse than it was, for by such cloaked charity, where thou dost offend before Christ but once, thou hast offended twice herein: for now thou goest about to give Christ a mock, if be would take it of thee. Thou thinkest to blind thy master Christ's commandment. Beware, do not so, for at length he will overmatch thee, and take thee tardy whatsoever thou be; and so, as I said, it should be better for thee not to do his message on this fashion, for it will stand thee in no purpose. "What?" some will say, "I am sure he loveth me well enough: he speaketh fair to my face." Yet for all that thou mayest be deceived. It proveth not true love in a man, to speak fair. If he love thee with his mind and heart, he loveth thee with his eyes, with his tongue, with his feet, with his hands and his body; for all these parts of a man's body be obedient to the will and mind. He loveth thee with his eves, that looketh cheerfully on thee, when thou meetest with him, and is glad to see thee prosper and do well. He loveth thee with his tongue, that speaketh well by thee behind thy back, or giveth thee good counsel. He loveth thee with his feet, that is willing to go to help thee out of trouble and business. He loveth thee with his hands, that will help thee in time of necessity, by giving some alms-deeds, or with any other occupation of the hand. He loveth thee with his body, that will labour with his body, or put his body in danger to do good for thee, or to deliver thee from adversity: and so forth, with the other members of his body. And if thy neighbour will do according to these sayings, then thou mayest think that he loveth thee well; and thou, in like wise, oughtest to declare and open thy love unto thy neighbour in like fashion, or else you be bound one to reconcile the other, till this perfect love be engendered amongst you. It may fortune thou wilt say, "I am content to do the best for my neighbour that I can, saving myself harmless." I promise thee, Christ will not hear this excuse; for he himself suffered harm for our sakes, and for our salvation was put to extreme death. I wis, if it had pleased him, he might have saved us and never felt pain; but in suffering pains and death he did give us example, and teach us how we should do one for another, as he did for us all; for, as he saith himself, "he that will be mine, let him deny himself, and follow me, in bearing my cross and suffering my pains." Wherefore we must needs suffer pain with Christ to do our neighbour good, as well with the body and all his members, as with heart and mind. Now I trust you wot what your card meaneth: let us see how that we can play with the same. Whensoever it shall happen you to go and make your oblation unto God, ask of yourselves this question, "Who art thou?" The answer, as you know, is, "I am a christian man." Then you must again ask unto yourself, What Christ requireth of a christian man? By and by cast down your trump, your heart, and look first of one card, then of another. The first card telleth thee, thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not be angry, thou shalt not be out of patience. This done, thou shalt look if there be any more cards to take up; and if thou look well, thou shalt see another card of the same suit, wherein thou shalt know that thou art bound to reconcile thy neighbour. Then cast thy trump upon them both, and gather them all three together, and do according to the virtue of thy cards; and surely thou shalt not lose. Thou shalt first kill the great Turks, and discomfort and thrust them down. Thou shalt again fetch home Christ's sheep that thou hast lost; whereby thou mayest go both patiently and with a quiet mind unto the church, and make thy oblation unto God; and then, without doubt, he will hear thee. But yet Christ will not accept our oblation (although we be in patience, and have reconciled our neighbour), if that our oblation be made of another man's substance; but it must be our own. See therefore that thou hast gotten thy goods according to the laws of God and of thy prince. For if thou gettest thy goods by polling and extortion, or by any other unlawful ways, then, if thou offer a thousand pound of it, it will stand thee in no good effect; for it is not thine. In this point a great number of executors do offend; for when they be made rich by other men's goods, then they will take upon them to build churches, to give ornaments to God and his altar, to gild saints, and to do many good works therewith; but it shall be all in their own name, and for their own glory. Wherefore, saith Christ, they have in this world their reward; and so their oblations be not their own, nor be they acceptable before God. Another way God will refuse thy voluntary oblation, as thus: if so be it that thou hast gotten never so truly thy goods, according both to the laws of God and man, and hast with the same goods not relieved thy poor neighbour, when thou hast seen him hungry, thirsty, and naked, he will not take thy oblation when thou shalt offer the same, because he will say unto thee, "When I was hungry, thou gavest me no meat; when I was thirsty, thou gavest me no drink; and when I was naked, thou didst not clothe me. Wherefore I will not take thy oblation, because it is none of thine. I left it thee to relieve thy poor neighbours, and thou hast not therein done according unto this my commandment, _Misericordiam volo, et non sacrificium_; I had rather have mercy done, than sacrifice or oblation. Wherefore until thou dost the one more than the other, I will not accept thine oblation." Evermore bestow the greatest part of thy goods in works of mercy, and the less part in voluntary works. Voluntary works be called all manner of offering in the church, except your four offering-days, and your tithes: setting up candles, gilding and painting, building of churches, giving of ornaments, going on pilgrimages, making of highways, and such other, be called voluntary works; which works be of themselves marvellous good, and convenient to be done. Necessary works, and works of mercy, are called the commandments, the four offering-days, your tithes, and such other that belong to the commandments; and works of mercy consist in relieving and visiting thy poor neighbours. Now then, if men be so foolish of themselves, that they will bestow the most part of their goods in voluntary works, which they be not bound to keep, but willingly and by their devotion; and leave the necessary works undone, which they are bound to do; they and all their voluntary works are like to go unto everlasting damnation. And I promise you, if you build a hundred churches, give as much as you can make to gilding of saints, and honouring of the church; and if thou go as many pilgrimages as thy body can well suffer, and offer as great candles as oaks; if thou leave the works of mercy and the commandments undone, these works shall nothing avail thee. No doubt the voluntary works be good and ought to be done; but yet they must be so done, that by their occasion the necessary works and the works of mercy be not decayed and forgotten. If you will build a glorious church unto God, see first yourself to be in charity with your neighbours, and suffer not them to be offended by your works. Then, when ye come into your parish-church; you bring with you the holy temple of God; as St. Paul saith, "You yourselves be the very holy temples of God:" and Christ saith by his prophet, "In you will I rest, and intend to make my mansion and abiding-place." Again, if you list to gild and paint Christ in your churches, and honour him in vestments, see that before your eyes the poor people die not for lack of meat, drink, and clothing. Then do you deck the very true temple of God, and honour him in rich vestures that will never be worn, and so forth use yourselves according unto the commandments: and then, finally, set up your candles, and they will report what a glorious light remaineth in your hearts; for it is not fitting to see a dead man light candles. Then, I say, go your pilgrimages, build your material churches, do all your voluntary works; and they will then represent you unto God, and testify with you, that you have provided him a glorious place in your hearts. But beware, I say again, that you do not run so far in your voluntary works, that ye do quite forget your necessary works of mercy, which you are bound to keep: you must have ever a good respect unto the best and worthiest works toward God to be done first and with more efficacy, and the other to be done secondarily. Thus if you do, with the other that I have spoken of before, ye may come according to the tenor of your cards, and offer your oblations and prayers to our Lord Jesus Christ, who will both hear and accept them to your everlasting joy and glory: to the which he bring us, and all those whom he suffered death for. Amen. A SERMON MADE BY M. HUGH LATIMER, AT THE TIME OF THE INSURRECTION IN THE NORTH, WHICH WAS IN THE TWENTY-SEVENTH YEAR OF THE REIGN OF KING HENRY THE EIGHTH, ANN. DOM. 1535. UPON THE EPISTLE READ IN THE CHURCH THE TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY SUNDAY, TAKEN OUT OF THE SIXTH CHAPTER OF THE EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO THE EPHESIANS. _Put on all the armour of God, that ye may stand_, &c. [Ephes. vi. 10, et seq.] Saint Paul, the holy apostle, writeth this epistle unto the Ephesians, that is, to the people of the city of Ephesus. He writeth generally, to them all; and in the former chapters he teacheth them severally how they should behave themselves, in every estate, one to another; how they should obey their rulers; how wives should behave themselves towards their husbands; children towards their parents; and servants towards their masters; and husbands, parents and masters should behave them, and love their wives, children, and servants; and generally each to love other. Now cometh he forth and comforteth them, and teacheth them to be bold, and to play the men, and fight manfully. For they must fight with valiant warriors, as appeareth afterward in the text. And against they come to fight he comforteth them, saying, "My brethren." He calleth them brethren; for though he taught them before to be subject to kings and rulers, and to be obedient to their superiors, yet he teacheth them that in Christ we be all brethren, according to the saying in this same chapter, "God is no accepter of persons." "My brethren," saith he, "be ye comforted, be ye strong;" not trusting to yourselves; no, but be bold, and comforted "by our Lord, and by the power of his virtue:" not by your own virtue, for it is not of power to resist such assaults as he speaketh of hereafter. "Put on, or apparel you with, the armour of God." Armour is an apparel to clothe a man, and maketh him seemly and comely; setteth forth his body, and maketh him strong and bold in battle. And therefore Saint Paul exhorteth generally his brethren to be armed; and as the assaults be strong, and not small, so he giveth strong armour, and not small: "Put on," saith he, "the armour of God." He speaketh generally of armour, but afterwards he speaketh particularly of the parts of armour, where he saith, be armed complete, whole; be armed on every part with the armour of God; not borrowed, nor patched, but all godly. And as armour setteth forth a man's body, so this godly armour maketh us seemly in the sight of God, and acceptable in his wars. Be ye therefore "armed at all points with the armour of God, that ye may stand strongly against the assaults of the devil." "That ye may stand," saith he. Ye must stand in this battle, and not sit, nor lie along; for he that lieth is trodden under foot of his enemy. We may not sit, that is, not rest in sin, or lie along in sluggishness of sin; but continually fight against our enemy, and under our great Captain and Sovereign Lord Jesus Christ, and in his quarrel, armed with the armour of God, that we may be strong. We cannot be strong unless we be armed of God. We have no power of ourselves to stand against the assaults of the devil. There St. Paul teacheth what our battle is, and wherefore we must be thus armed. For, saith he, "we have not wrestling or strife against flesh and blood:" which may be understood, against certain sins, which come of the flesh only; but let us take it as it standeth, "against flesh and blood," that is, against any corporal man, which is but a weak thing in comparison, and with one stroke destroyed or slain: but we have to do with strong, mighty princes and potentates; that mighty prince, that great conqueror of this world, the devil, yea a conqueror: for though our Saviour Jesus Christ conquered him and all his, by suffering his blessed passion, yet is he a great conqueror in this world, and reigneth over a great multitude of his own, and maketh continual conflicts and assaults against the rest, to subdue them also under his power; which, if they be armed after St. Paul's teaching, shall stand strongly against his assaults. "Our battle," saith St. Paul, "is against princes, potestates," that is, against devils: for, after the common opinion, there fell from heaven of every order of angels, as of potentates. He saith also, "against worldly rulers of these darknesses:" for, as doctors do write, the spirits that fell with Lucifer have their being in _aere caliginoso_, the air, in darkness, and the rulers of this world, by God's sufferance, to hurt, vex and assault them that live upon the earth. For their nature is, as they be damned, to desire to draw all mankind unto like damnation; such is their malice. And though they hang in the air, or fall in a garden or other pleasant place, yet have they continually their pain upon their backs. Against these we wrestle, and "against spiritual wickedness in _coelestibus_," that is, in the air; or we fight against spiritual wickedness in heavenly things. Think you not that this our enemy, this prince with all his potentates, hath great and sore assaults to lay against our armour? Yea, he is a crafty warrior, and also of great power in this world; he hath great ordnance and artillery; he hath great pieces of ordnance, as mighty kings and emperors, to shoot against God's people, to persecute or kill them; Nero, the great tyrant, who slew Paul, and divers other. Yea, what great pieces hath he had of bishops of Rome, which have destroyed whole cities and countries, and have slain and burnt many! What great guns were those! Yea, he hath also less ordnance evil enough, (they may be called _serpentines_;) some bishops in divers countries, and here in England, which he hath shot at some good christian men, that they have been blown to ashes. So can this great captain, the devil, shoot his ordnance. He hath yet less ordnance, for he hath of all sorts to shoot at good christian men; he hath hand-guns and bows, which do much hurt, but not so much as the great ordnance. These be accusers, promoters, and slanderers; they be evil ordnance, shrewd hand-guns, and bows; they put a man to great displeasure; oftentimes death cometh upon that shot. For these things, saith the text, "take the armour of God." Against the great captains, the devils, and against their artillery, their ministers, there can nothing defend us but the armour of God. "Take therefore this armour," saith the text, "that ye may resist in the evil day, and in all things stand perfectly, or be perfectly strong." This evil day is not so called here, because any day or time is evil; for God made every day good, and all days be good: but St. Paul calleth it the "evil day," because of the misfortune that chanceth or cometh in that day. As we have a common saying, "I have had an evil day, and an evil night," because of the heaviness or evil that hath happened; so saith Paul, "that ye may resist in the evil day:" that is, when your great adversary hath compassed you round about with his potestates and rulers, and with his artillery, so that you be almost overcome, then, if you have the armour of God, you shall be strong, and need not to fear his assaults. St. Paul hath spoken of this armour of God generally, and now declareth the parts and pieces of armour; and teacheth them how to apparel every part of the body with this armour. He beginneth yet again, saying, "Be strong, having your reins, or your loins girded about." Some men of war use to have about their loins an apron or girdle of mail, gird fast for the safeguard of the nether part of their body. So St. Paul would we should gird our loins, which betokeneth lechery or other sinfulness, with a girdle, which is to be taken for a restraint or continence from such vices. In "truth," or "truly gird:" it may not be feigned, or falsely girt, but in verity and truth. There be many bachelors, as yet men unmarried, which seem to be girt with the girdle of continence, and yet it is not in truth, it is but feignedly. And some religious persons make a profession of continence or chastity, and yet not in truth, their hearts be not truly chaste. Such feigned girding of the loins cannot make a man strong to resist the assaults of the great captain or enemy in the evil day. Yet some get them girdles with great knots, as though they would be surely girt, and as though they would break the devil's head with their knotted girdles. Nay, he will not be so overcome: it is no knot of an hempton girdle that he feareth; that is no piece of harness of the armour of God, which may resist the assault in the evil day; it is but feigned gear; it must be in the heart, &c. "And be ye apparelled or clothed," saith Paul, "with the habergeon or coat-armour of justice, that is, righteousness." Let your body be clothed in the armour of righteousness: ye may do no wrong to any man, but live in righteousness; not clothed with any false quarrel or privy grudge. Ye must live rightly in God's law, following his commandments and doctrine, clothed righteously in his armour, and not in any feigned armour, as in a friar's coat or cowl. For the assaults of the devil be crafty to make us put our trust in such armour, he will feign himself to fly; but then we be most in jeopardy: for he can give us an after-clap when we least ween; that is, suddenly return unawares to us, and then he giveth us an after-clap that overthroweth us: this armour deceiveth us. In like manner these men in the North country, they make pretence as though they were armed in God's armour, gird in truth, and clothed in righteousness. I hear say they wear the cross and the wounds before and behind, and they pretend much truth to the king's grace and to the commonwealth, when they intend nothing less; and deceive the poor ignorant people, and bring them to fight against both the king, the church, and the commonwealth. They arm them with the sign of the cross and of the wounds, and go clean contrary to him that bare the cross, and suffered those wounds. They rise with the king, and fight against the king in his ministers and officers; they rise with the church, and fight against the church, which is the congregation of faithful men; they rise for the commonwealth, and fight against it, and go about to make the commons each to kill other, and to destroy the commonwealth. Lo, what false pretence can the devil send amongst us? It is one of his most crafty and subtle assaults, to send his warriors forth under the badge of God, as though they were armed in righteousness and justice. But if we will resist strongly indeed, we must he clothed or armed with the habergeon of very justice or righteousness; in true obedience to our prince, and faithful love to our neighbours; and take no false quarrels in hand, nor any feigned armour; but in justice, "having your feet shod for [the] preparation of the gospel of peace." Lo, what manner of battle this warrior St. Paul teacheth us, "to be shod on our feet," that we may go readily and prepare way for the gospel; yea, the gospel of peace, not of rebellion, not of insurrection: no, it teacheth obedience, humility, and quietness; it maketh peace in the conscience, and teacheth true faith in Jesus Christ, and to walk in God's laws armed with God's armour, as Paul teacheth here. Yea, if bishops in England had been "shod for the preparation of this gospel," and had endeavoured themselves to teach and set [it] forth, as our most noble prince hath devised; and if certain gentlemen, being justices, had executed his grace's commandment, in setting forth this gospel of peace, this disturbance among the people had not happened. But ye say, it is new learning. Now I tell you it is the old learning. Yea, ye say, it is old heresy new scoured. Nay, I tell you it is old truth, long rusted with your canker, and now new made bright and scoured. What a rusty truth is this, _Quodcumque ligaveris_, "Whatsoever thou bindest," &c. This is a truth spoken to the apostles, and all true preachers their successors, that with the law of God they should bind and condemn all that sinned; and whosoever did repent, they should declare him loosed and forgiven, by believing in the blood of Christ. But how hath this truth over-rusted with the pope's rust? For he, by this text, "Whatsoever thou bindeth," hath taken upon him to make what laws him listed, clean contrary unto God's word, which willeth that every man should obey the prince's law: and by this text, "Whatsoever thou loosest," he hath made all people believe that, for money, he might forgive what and whom he lusted; so that if any man had robbed his master, or taken anything wrongfully, the pope would loose him, by this pardon or that pardon, given to these friars or those friars, put in this box or that box. And, as it were, by these means a dividend of the spoil was made, so that it was not restored, nor the person rightly discharged; and yet most part of the spoil came to the hands of him and his ministers. What is this but a new learning; a new canker to rust and corrupt the old truth? Ye call your learning old: it may indeed be called old, for it cometh of that serpent which did pervert God's commandment and beguiled Eve; so it is an old custom to pervert God's word, and to rust it, and corrupt it. We be a great many that profess to be true ministers of the gospel; but at the trial I think it will come to pass as it did with Gideon, a duke, which God raised up to deliver the children of Israel from the Midianites, in whose hands they were fallen, because they had broken God's commandment, and displeased God: yet at the length he had compassion on them, and raised up Gideon to deliver them. When they heard that they had a captain, or a duke, that should deliver them, they assembled a great number, about thirty thousand: but when it came to pass that they should fight, they departed all save five hundred. So, I fear me, that at the trial we shall be found but a few ministers of the true gospel of peace, and armed in the true armour of God. It followeth, "And in all things take the shield or buckler of faith." The buckler is a thing wherewith a man most chiefly defendeth himself: and that must be perfect faith in Jesus Christ, in our Captain, and in his word. It must also be a true faith, it is else no part of the armour of God: it may not be feigned, but a buckler, which may stop or quench the violence of the flaming darts of the most wicked. "Take also the helmet or head-piece of health," or true health in Jesus Christ; for there is no health in any other name: not the health of a grey friar's coat, or the health of this pardon or that pardon; that were a false helmet, and should not defend the violence of the wicked. "And the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." Lo, St. Paul teacheth you battle; to take in your left hand the shield of faith, to defend and bear off the darts of the devil, and in the other hand a sword to strike with against the enemy: for a good man of war may not stand against, and defend only, but also strike against his enemy. So St. Paul giveth us here a sword, "The word of God." For this sword is it that beateth this great captain, our enemy. Christ himself gave us ensample to fight with this sword; for he answered the devil with the scripture, and said, "It is written." With this sword he drave away the devil: and so let us break his head with this sword, the true word of God, and not with any word of the bishop of Rome's making; not with his old learning, nor his new learning, but with the pure word of God. The time passeth: I will therefore make an end. Let us fight manfully, and not cease; for no man is crowned or rewarded but in the end. We must therefore fight continually, and with this sword; and thus armed, and we shall receive the reward of victory. And thus the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with all your spirits. Amen. THE SERMON THAT THE REVEREND FATHER IN CHRIST, M. HUGH LATIMER, BISHOP OF WORCESTER, MADE TO THE CONVOCATION OF THE CLERGY, BEFORE THE PARLIAMENT BEGAN, THE 9 DAY OF JUNE, THE 28 YEAR OF THE REIGN OF OUR LATE KING HENRY THE 8. TRANSLATED OUT OF LATIN INTO ENGLISH, TO THE INTENT THAT THINGS WELL SAID TO A FEW MAY BE UNDERSTOOD OF MANY, AND DO GOOD TO ALL THEM THAT DESIRE TO UNDERSTAND THE TRUTH. _Filii hujus seculi_, &c.--Luc. xvi. Brethren, ye be come together this day, as far as I perceive, to hear of great and weighty matters. Ye be come together to entreat of things that most appertain to the commonwealth. This being thus, ye look, I am assured, to hear of me, which am commanded to make as a preface this exhortation, (albeit I am unlearned and far unworthy,) such things as shall be much meet for this your assembly. I therefore, not only very desirous to obey the commandment of our Primate, but also right greatly coveting to serve and satisfy all your expectation; lo, briefly, and as plainly as I can, will speak of matters both worthy to be heard in your congregation, and also of such as best shall become mine office in this place. That I may do this the more commodiously, I have taken that notable sentence in which our Lord was not afraid to pronounce "the children of this world to be much more prudent and politic than the children of light in their generation." Neither will I be afraid, trusting that he will aid and guide me to use this sentence, as a good ground and foundation of all such things, as hereafter I shall speak of. Now, I suppose that you see right well, being men of such learning, for what purpose the Lord said this, and that ye have no need to be holpen with any part of my labour in this thing. But yet, if ye will pardon me, I will wade somewhat deeper in this matter, and as nigh as I can, fetch it from the first original beginning. For undoubtedly, ye may much marvel at this saying, if ye well ponder both what is said, and who saith it. Define me first these three things: what prudence is; what the world; what light; and who be the children of the world; who of the light: see what they signify in scripture. I marvel if by and by ye all agree, that the children of the world should be wiser than the children of the light. To come somewhat nigher the matter, thus the Lord beginneth: There was a certain rich man that had a steward, which was accused unto him that he had dissipated and wasted his goods. This rich man called his steward to him and said, What is this that I hear of thee? Come, make me an account of thy stewardship; thou mayest no longer bear this office. Brethren, because these words are so spoken in a parable, and are so wrapped in wrinkles, that yet they seem to have a face and a similitude of a thing done indeed, and like an history, I think it much profitable to tarry somewhat in them. And though we may perchance find in our hearts to believe all that is there spoken to be true; yet I doubt whether we may abide it, that these words of Christ do pertain unto us, and admonish us of our duty, which do and live after such sort, as though Christ, when he spake any thing, had, as the time served him, served his turn, and not regarded the time that came after him, neither provided for us, or any matters of ours; as some of the philosophers thought, which said, that God walked up and down in heaven, and thinketh never a deal of our affairs. But, my good brethren, err not you so; stick not you to such your imaginations. For if ye inwardly behold these words, if ye diligently roll them in your minds, and after explicate and open them, ye shall see our time much touched in these mysteries. Ye shall perceive that God by this example shaketh us by the noses and pulleth us by the ears. Ye shall perceive very plain, that God setteth before our eyes in this similitude what we ought most to flee, and what we ought soonest to follow. For Luke saith, "The Lord spake these words to his disciples." Wherefore let it be out of all doubt that he spake them to us, which even as we will be counted the successors and vicars of Christ's disciples, so we be, if we be good dispensers and do our duty. He said these things partly to us, which spake them partly of himself. For he is that rich man, which not only had, but hath, and shall have evermore, I say not one, but many stewards, even to the end of the world. He is man, seeing that he is God and man. He is rich, not only in mercy but in all kind of riches; for it is he that giveth to us all things abundantly. It is he of whose hand we received both our lives, and other things necessary for the conservation of the same. What man hath any thing, I pray you, but he hath received it of his plentifulness? To be short, it is he that "openeth his hand, and filleth all beasts with his blessing," and giveth unto us in most ample wise his benediction. Neither his treasure can be spent, how much soever he lash out; how much soever we take of him, his treasure tarrieth still, ever taken, never spent. He is also the good man of the house: the church is his household which ought with all diligence to be fed with his word and his sacraments. These be his goods most precious, the dispensation and administration whereof he would bishops and curates should have. Which thing St. Paul affirmeth, saying, "Let men esteem us as the ministers of Christ, and dispensers of God's mysteries." But, I pray you, what is to be looked for in a dispenser? This surely, "That he be found faithful," and that he truly dispense, and lay out the goods of the Lord; that he give meat in time; give it, I say, and not sell it; meat, I say, and not poison. For the one doth intoxicate and slay the eater, the other feedeth and nourisheth him. Finally, let him not slack and defer the doing of his office, but let him do his duty when time is, and need requireth it. This is also to be looked for, that he be one whom God hath called and put in office, and not one that cometh uncalled, unsent for; not one that of himself presumeth to take honour upon him. And surely, if all this that I say be required in a good minister, it is much lighter to require them all in every one, than to find one any where that hath them all. Who is a true and faithful steward? He is true, he is faithful, that cometh no new money, but taketh it ready coined of the good man of the house; and neither changeth it, nor clippeth it, after it is taken to him to spend, but spendeth even the self-same that he had of his Lord, and spendeth it as his Lord's commandment is; neither to his own vantage uttering it, nor as the lewd servant did, hiding it in the ground. Brethren, if a faithful steward ought to do as I have said, I pray you, ponder and examine this well, whether our bishops and abbots, prelates and curates, have been hitherto faithful stewards or no? Ponder, whether yet many of them be as they should be or no? Go ye to, tell me now as your conscience leadeth you (I will let pass to speak of many other), was there not some, that despising the money of the Lord, as copper and not current, either coined new themselves, or else uttered abroad newly coined of other; sometime either adulterating the word of God or else mingling it (as taverners do, which brew and utter the evil and good both in one pot), sometime in the stead of God's word blowing out the dreams of men? while they thus preached to the people the redemption that cometh by Christ's death to serve only them that died before his coming, that were in the time of the old testament; and that now since redemption and forgiveness of sins purchased by money, and devised by men is of efficacy, and not redemption purchased by Christ (they have a wonderful pretty example to persuade this thing, of a certain married woman, which, when her husband was in purgatory, in that fiery furnace that hath burned away so many of our pence, paid her husband's ransom, and so of duty claimed him to be set at liberty): while they thus preached to the people, that dead images (which at the first, as I think, were set up, only to represent things absent) not only ought to be covered with gold, but also ought of all faithful and christian people (yea, in this scarceness and penury of all things), to be clad with silk garments, and those also laden with precious gems and jewels; and that beside all this, they are to be lighted with wax candles, both within the church and without the church, yea, and at noon days; as who should say, here no cost can be too great; whereas in the mean time we see Christ's faithful and lively images, bought with no less price than with his most precious blood (alas, alas!) to be an hungred, a-thirst, a-cold, and to lie in darkness, wrapped in all wretchedness, yea, to lie there till death take away their miseries: while they preached these will-works, that come but of our own devotion, although they be not so necessary as the works of mercy, and the precepts of God, yet they said, and in the pulpit, that will-works were more principal, more excellent, and (plainly to utter what they mean) more acceptable to God than works of mercy; as though now man's inventions and fancies could please God better than God's precepts, or strange things better than his own: while they thus preached that more fruit, more devotion cometh of the beholding of an image, though it be but a Pater-noster while, than is gotten by reading and contemplation in scripture, though ye read and contemplate therein seven years' space: finally, while they preached thus, souls tormented in purgatory to have most need of our help, and that they can have no aid, but of us in this world: of the which two, if the one be not false, yet at the least it is ambiguous, uncertain, doubtful, and therefore rashly and arrogantly with such boldness affirmed in the audience of the people; the other, by all men's opinions, is manifestly false: I let pass to speak of much other such like counterfeit doctrine, which hath been blasted and blown out by some for the space of three hours together. Be these the Christian and divine mysteries, and not rather the dreams of men? Be these the faithful dispensers of God's mysteries, and not rather false dissipators of them? whom God never put in office, but rather the devil set them over a miserable family, over an house miserably ordered and entreated. Happy were the people if such preached seldom. And yet it is a wonder to see these, in their generation, to be much more prudent and politic than the faithful ministers are in their generation; while they go about more prudently to stablish men's dreams, than these do to hold up God's commandments. Thus it cometh to pass that works lucrative, will-works, men's fancies reign; but christian works, necessary works, fruitful works, be trodden under the foot. Thus the evil is much better set out by evil men, than the good by good men; because the evil be more wise than be the good in their generation. These be the false stewards, whom all good and faithful men every day accuse unto the rich master of the household, not without great heaviness, that they waste his goods; whom he also one day will call to him, and say to them as he did to his steward, when he said, "What is this that I hear of thee?" Here God partly wondereth at our ingratitude and perfidy, partly chideth us for them; and being both full of wonder and ready to chide, asketh us, "What is this that I hear of you?" As though he should say unto us, "All good men in all places complain of you, accuse your avarice, your exactions, your tyranny. They have required in you a long season, and yet require, diligence and sincerity. I commanded you, that with all industry and labour ye should feed my sheep: ye earnestly feed yourselves from day to day, wallowing in delights and idleness. I commanded you to teach my commandments, and not your fancies; and that ye should seek my glory and my vantage: you teach your own traditions, and seek your own glory and profit. You preach very seldom; and when ye do preach, do nothing but cumber them that preach truly, as much as lieth in you: that it were much better such were not to preach at all, than so perniciously to preach. Oh, what hear I of you? You, that ought to be my preachers, what other thing do you, than apply all your study hither, to bring all my preachers to envy, shame, contempt? Yea, more than this, ye pull them into perils, into prisons, and, as much as in you lieth, to cruel deaths. To be short, I would that christian people should hear my doctrine, and at their convenient leisure read it also, as many as would: your care is not that all men may hear it, but all your care is, that no lay man do read it: surely, being afraid lest they by the reading should understand it, and understanding, learn to rebuke our slothfulness. This is your generation, this is your dispensation, this is your wisdom. In this generation, in this dispensation, you be most politic, most witty. These be the things that I hear of your demeanour. I wished to hear better report of you. Have ye thus deceived me? or have ye rather deceived yourselves? Where I had but one house, that is to say, the church, and this so dearly beloved of me, that for the love of her I put myself forth to be slain, and to shed my blood; this church at my departure I committed unto your charge, to be fed, to be nourished, and to be made much of. My pleasure was ye should occupy my place; my desire was ye should have borne like love to this church, like fatherly affection, as I did: I made you my vicars, yea, in matters of most importance. "For thus I taught openly: 'He that should hear you, should hear me; he that should despise you, should despise me.' I gave you also keys, not earthly keys, but heavenly. I left my goods that I have evermore most highly esteemed, that is, my word and sacraments, to be dispensed of you. These benefits I gave you, and do you give me these thanks? Can you find in your hearts thus to abuse my goodness, my benignity, my gentleness? Have you thus deceived me? No, no, ye have not deceived me, but yourselves. My gifts and benefits towards you shall be to your greater damnation. Because you have contemned the lenity and clemency of the master of the house, ye have right well deserved to abide the rigour and severity of the judge. Come forth then, let us see an account of your stewardship. An horrible and fearful sentence: Ye may have no longer my goods in your hands. A voice to weep at, and to make men tremble!" You see, brethren, you see, what evil the evil stewards must come to. Your labour is paid for, if ye can so take heed, that no such sentence be spoken to you; nay, we must all take heed lest these threatenings one day take place in us. But lest the length of my sermon offend you too sore, I will leave the rest of the parable and take me to the handling of the end of it; that is, I will declare unto you how the children of this world be more witty, crafty, and subtle, than are the children of the light in their generation. Which sentence would God it lay in my poor tongue to explicate with such light of words, that I might seem rather to have painted it before your eyes, than to have spoken it; and that you might rather seem to see the thing, than to hear it! But I confess plainly this thing to be far above my power. Therefore this being only left to me, I wish for that I have not, and am sorry that that is not in me which I would so gladly have, that is, power so to handle the thing that I have in hand, that all that I say may turn to the glory of God, your souls' health, and the edifying of Christ's body. Wherefore I pray you all to pray with me unto God, and that in your petition you desire, that these two things he vouchsafe to grant us, first, a mouth for me to speak rightly; next, ears for you, that in hearing me ye may take profit at my hand: and that this may come to effect, you shall desire him, unto whom our master Christ bad we should pray, saying even the same prayer that he himself did institute. Wherein ye shall pray for our most gracious sovereign lord the king, chief and supreme head of the church of England under Christ, and for the most excellent, gracious, and virtuous lady queen Jane, his most lawful wife, and for all his, whether they be of the clergy or laity, whether they be of the nobility, or else other his grace's subjects, not forgetting those that being departed out of this transitory life, and now sleep in the sleep of peace, and rest from their labours in quietness and peaceable sleep, faithfully, lovingly, and patiently looking for that that they clearly shall see when God shall be so pleased. For all these, and for grace necessary, ye shall say unto God God's prayer, _Pater-noster_. THE SECOND SERMON, IN THE AFTERNOON. _Filii hujus seculi_, &c.--Luc. xvi. [8]. Christ in this saying touched the sloth and sluggishness of his, and did not allow the fraud and subtlety of others; neither was glad that it was indeed as he had said, but complained rather that it should be so: as many men speak many things, not that they ought to be so, but that they are wont to be so. Nay, this grieved Christ, that the children of this world should be of more policy than the children of light; which thing was true in Christ's time, and now in our time is most true. Who is so blind but he seeth this clearly; except perchance there be any that cannot discern the children of the world from the children of light? The children of the world conceive and bring forth more prudently; and things conceived and brought forth they nourish and conserve with much more policy than do the children of light. Which thing is as sorrowful to be said, as it seemeth absurd to be heard. When ye hear the children of the world, you understand the world as a father. For the world is father of many children, not by the first creation and work, but by imitation of love. He is not only a father, but also the son of another father. If ye know once his father, by and by ye shall know his children. For he that hath the devil to his father, must needs have devilish children. The devil is not only taken for father, but also for prince of the world, that is, of worldly folk. It is either all one thing, or else not much different, to say, children of the world, and children of the devil; according to that that Christ said to the Jews, "Ye are of your father the devil:" where as undoubtedly he spake to children of this world. Now seeing the devil is both author and ruler of the darkness, in the which the children of this world walk, or, to say better, wander; they mortally hate both the light, and also the children of light. And hereof it cometh, that the children of light never, or very seldom, lack persecution in this world, unto which the children of the world, that is, of the devil, bringeth them. And there is no man but he seeth, that these use much more policy in procuring the hurt and damage of the good, than those in defending themselves. Therefore, brethren, gather you the disposition and study of the children by the disposition and study of the fathers. Ye know this is a proverb much used: "An evil crow, an evil egg." Then the children of this world that are known to have so evil a father, the world, so evil a grandfather, the devil, cannot choose but be evil. Surely the first head of their ancestry was the deceitful serpent the devil, a monster monstrous above all monsters. I cannot wholly express him, I wot not what to call him, but a certain thing altogether made of the hatred of God, of mistrust in God, of lyings, deceits, perjuries, discords, manslaughters; and, to say at one word, a thing concrete, heaped up and made of all kind of mischief. But what the devil mean I to go about to describe particularly the devil's nature, when no reason, no power of man's mind can comprehend it? This alonely I can say grossly, and as in a sum, of the which all we (our hurt is the more) have experience, the devil to be a stinking sentine of all vices; a foul filthy channel of all mischiefs; and that this world, his son, even a child meet to have such a parent, is not much unlike his father. Then, this devil being such one as can never be unlike himself; lo, of Envy, his well-beloved Leman, he begat the World, and after left it with Discord at nurse; which World, after that it came to man's state, had of many concubines many sons. He was so fecund a father, and had gotten so many children of Lady Pride, Dame Gluttony, Mistress Avarice, Lady Lechery, and of Dame Subtlety, that now hard and scant ye may find any corner, any kind of life, where many of his children be not. In court, in cowls, in cloisters, in rochets, be they never so white; yea, where shall ye not find them? Howbeit, they that be secular and laymen, are not by and by children of the world; nor they children of light, that are called spiritual, and of the clergy. No, no; as ye may find among the laity many children of light, so among the clergy, (how much soever we arrogate these holy titles unto us, and think them only attributed to us, _Vos estis lux mundi, peculium Christi, &c_. "Ye are the light of the world, the chosen people of Christ, a kingly priesthood, an holy nation, and such other,") ye shall find many children of the world; because in all places the world getteth many children. Among the lay people the world ceaseth not to bring to pass, that as they be called wordly, so they are wordly indeed; driven headlong by worldly desires: insomuch that they may right well seem to have taken as well the manners as the name of their father. In the clergy, the world also hath learned a way to make of men spiritual, worldlings; yea, and there also to form worldly children, where with great pretence of holiness, and crafty colour of religion, they utterly desire to hide and cloak the name of the world, as though they were ashamed of their father; which do execrate and detest the world (being nevertheless their father) in words and outward signs, but in heart and work they coll and kiss him, and in all their lives declare themselves to be his babes; insomuch that in all worldly points they far pass and surmount those that they call seculars, laymen, men of the world. The child so diligently followeth the steps of his father, is never destitute of the aid of his grandfather. These be our holy holy men, that say they are dead to the world, when no men be more lively in worldly things than some of them be. But let them be in profession and name most farthest from the world, most alienate from it; yea, so far, that they may seem to have no occupying, no kindred, no affinity, nothing to do with it: yet in their life and deeds they shew themselves no bastards, but right begotten children of the world; as that which the world long sithens had by his dear wife Dame Hypocrisy, and since hath brought them up and multiplied to more than a good many; increased them too much, albeit they swear by all he-saints and she-saints too, that they know not their father, nor mother, neither the world, nor hypocrisy; as indeed they can semble and dissemble all things; which thing they might learn wonderful well of their parents. I speak not of all religious men, but of those that the world hath fast knit at his girdle, even in the midst of their religion, that is, of many and more than many. For I fear, lest in all orders of men the better, I must say the greater part of them be out of order, and children of the world. Many of these might seem ingrate and unkind children, that will no better acknowledge and recognise their parents in words and outward pretence, but abrenounce and cast them off, as though they hated them as dogs and serpents. Howbeit they, in this wise, are most grateful to their parents, because they be most like them, so lively representing them in countenance and conditions, that their parents seem in them to be young again, forasmuch as they ever say one thing and think another. They shew themselves to be as sober, as temperate, as Curius the Roman was, and live every day as though all their life were a shroving time. They be like their parents, I say, inasmuch as they, in following them, seem and make men believe they hate them. Thus grandfather Devil, father World, and mother Hypocrisy, have brought them up. Thus good obedient sons have borne away their parents' commandments; neither these be solitary, how religious, how mocking, how monking, I would say, soever they be. O ye will lay this to my charge, that _monachus_ and _solitarius_ signifieth all one. I grant this to be so, yet these be so solitary that they be not alone, but accompanied with great flocks of fraternities. And I marvel if there be not a great sort of bishops and prelates, that are brethren germain unto these; and as a great sort, so even as right born, and world's children by as good title as they. But because I cannot speak of all, when I say prelates, I understand bishops, abbots, priors, archdeacons, deans, and other of such sort, that are now called to this convocation, as I see, to entreat here of nothing but of such matters as both appertain to the glory of Christ, and to the wealth of the people of England. Which thing I pray God they do as earnestly as they ought to do. But it is to be feared lest, as light hath many her children here, so the world hath sent some of his whelps hither; amongst the which I know there can be no concord nor unity, albeit they be in one place, in one congregation. I know there can be no agreement between these two, as long as they have minds so unlike, and so contrary affections, judgments so utterly diverse in all points. But if the children of this world be either more in number, or more prudent than the children of light, what then availeth us to have this convocation? Had it not been better we had not been called together at all? For as the children of this world be evil, so they breed and bring forth things evil; and yet there be more of them in all places, or at the least they be more politic than the children of light in their generation. And here I speak of the generation whereby they do engender, and not of that whereby they are engendered, because it should be too long to entreat how the children of light are engendered, and how they come in at the door; and how the children of the world be engendered, and come in another way. Howbeit, I think all you that be here were not engendered after one generation, neither that ye all came by your promotions after one manner: God grant that ye, engendered worldly, do not engender worldly: and as now I much pass not how ye were engendered, or by what means ye were promoted to those dignities that ye now occupy, so it be honest, good and profitable, that ye in this your consultation shall do and engender. The end of your convocation shall shew what ye have done; the fruit that shall come of your consultation shall shew what generation ye be of. For what have ye done hitherto, I pray you, these seven years and more? What have ye engendered? What have ye brought forth? What fruit is come of your long and great assembly? What one thing that the people of England hath been the better of a hair; or you yourselves, either more accepted before God, or better discharged toward the people committed unto your cure? For that the people is better learned and taught now, than they were in time past, to whether of these ought we to attribute it, to your industry, or to the providence of God, and the foreseeing of the king's grace! Ought we to thank you, or the king's highness? Whether stirred other first, you the king, that he might preach, or he you by his letters, that ye should preach oftener? Is it unknown, think you, how both ye and your curates were, in [a] manner, by violence enforced to let books to be made, not by you, but by profane and lay persons; to let them, I say, be sold abroad, and read for the instruction of the people? I am bold with you, but I speak Latin and not English, to the clergy, not to the laity; I speak to you being present, and not behind your backs. God is my witness, I speak whatsoever is spoken of the good-will that I bear you; God is my witness, which knoweth my heart, and compelleth me to say that I say. Now, I pray you in God's name, what did you, so great fathers, so many, so long a season, so oft assembled together? What went you about? What would ye have brought to pass? Two things taken away--the one, that ye (which I heard) burned a dead man; the other, that ye (which I felt) went about to burn one being alive: him, because he did, I cannot tell how, in his testament withstand your profit; in other points, as I have heard, a very good man; reported to be of an honest life while he lived, full of good works, good both to the clergy, and also to the laity: this other, which truly never hurt any of you, ye would have raked in the coals, because he would not subscribe to certain articles that took away the supremacy of the king:--take away these two noble acts, and there is nothing else left that ye went about, that I know, saving that I now remember, that somewhat ye attempted against Erasmus, albeit as yet nothing is come to light. Ye have oft sat in consultation, but what have ye done? Ye have had many things in deliberation, but what one is put forth, whereby either Christ is more glorified, or else Christ's people made more holy I appeal to your own conscience. How chanced this? How came it thus? Because there were no children of light, no children of God amongst you, which, setting the world at nought, would study to illustrate the glory of God, and thereby shew themselves children of light? I think not so, certainly I think not so. God forbid, that all you, which were gathered together under the pretence of light, should be children of the world! Then why happened this? Why, I pray you? Perchance, either because the children of the world were more in number in this your congregation, as it oft happeneth, or at the least of more policy than the children of light in their generation: whereby it might very soon be brought to pass, that these were much more stronger in gendering the evil than these in producing the good. The children of light have policy, but it is like the policy of the serpent, and is joined with doveish simplicity. They engender nothing but simply, faithfully, and plainly, even so doing all that they do. And therefore they may with more facility be cumbered in their engendering, and be the more ready to take injuries. But the children of this world have worldly policy, foxly craft, lion-like cruelty, power to do hurt, more than either _aspis_ or _basiliscus_, engendering and doing all things fraudulently, deceitfully, guilefully: which as Nimrods and such sturdy and stout hunters, being full of simulation and dissimulation before the Lord, deceive the children of light, and cumber them easily. Hunters go not forth in every man's sight, but do their affairs closely, and with use of guile and deceit wax every day more craftier than other. The children of this world be like crafty hunters; they be misnamed children of light, forasmuch as they so hate light, and so study to do the works of darkness. If they were the children of light, they would not love darkness. It is no marvel that they go about to keep other in darkness, seeing they be in darkness, from top to toe overwhelmed with darkness, darker than is the darkness of hell. Wherefore it is well done in all orders of men, but especial in the order of prelates, to put a difference between children of light and children of the world, because great deceit ariseth in taking the one for the other. Great imposture cometh, when they that the common people take for the light, go about to take the sun and the light out of the world. But these be easily known, both by the diversity of minds, and also their armours. For whereas the children of light are thus minded, that they seek their adversaries' health, wealth, and profit, with loss of their own commodities, and ofttimes with jeopardy of their life; the children of the world, contrariwise, have such stomachs, that they will sooner see them dead that doth them good, than sustain any loss of temporal things. The armour of the children of light are, first, the word of God, which they ever set forth, and with all diligence put it abroad, that, as much as in them lieth, it may bring forth fruit: after this, patience and prayer, with the which in all adversities the Lord comforteth them. Other things they commit to God, unto whom they leave all revengement. The armour of the children of the world are, sometime frauds and deceits, sometime lies and money: by the first they make their dreams, their traditions; by the second they stablish and confirm their dreams, be they never so absurd, never so against scripture, honesty, or reason. And if any man resist them, even with these weapons they procure to slay him. Thus they bought Christ's death, the very light itself, and obscured him after his death: thus they buy every day the children of light, and obscure them, and shall so do, until the world be at an end. So that it may be ever true, that Christ said: "The children of the world be wiser, &c." These worldlings pull down the lively faith, and full confidence that men have in Christ, and set up another faith, another confidence, of their own making: the children of light contrary. These worldlings set little by such works as God hath prepared for our salvation, but they extol traditions and works of their own invention: the children of light contrary. The worldlings, if they spy profit, gains, or lucre in any thing, be it never such a trifle, be it never so pernicious, they preach it to the people (if they preach at any time), and these things they defend with tooth and nail. They can scarce disallow the abuses of these, albeit they be intolerable, lest in disallowing the abuse they lose part of their profit. The children of the light contrary, put all things in their degree, best highest, next next, the worst lowest. They extol things necessary, Christian, and commanded of God. They pull down will-works feigned by men, and put them in their place. The abuses of all things they earnestly rebuke. But yet these things be so done on both parties, and so they both do gender, that the children of the world shew themselves wiser than the children of light, and that frauds and deceits, lies and money, seem evermore to have the upper hand. I hold my peace; I will not say how fat feasts, and jolly banquets, be jolly instruments to set forth worldly matters withal. Neither the children of the world be only wiser than the children of light, but are also some of them among themselves much wiser than the other in their generation. For albeit, as touching the end, the generation of them all is one; yet in this same generation some of them have more craftily engendered than the other of their fellows. For what a thing was that, that once every hundred year was brought forth in Rome of the children of this world, and with how much policy it was made, ye heard at Paul's Cross in the beginning of the last parliament: how some brought forth canonizations, some expectations, some pluralities and unions, some tot-quots and dispensations, some pardons, and these of wonderful variety, some stationaries, some jubilaries, some pocularies for drinkers, some manuaries for handlers of relicks, some pedaries for pilgrims, some oscularies for kissers; some of them engendered one, some other such fetures, and every one in that he was delivered of, was excellent politic, wise; yea, so wise, that with their wisdom they had almost made all the world fools. But yet they that begot and brought forth that our old ancient purgatory pick-purse; that that was swaged and cooled with a Franciscan's cowl, put upon a dead man's back, to the fourth part of his sins; that that was utterly to be spoiled, and of none other but of our most prudent lord Pope, and of him as oft as him listed; that satisfactory, that missal, that scalary: they, I say, that were the wise fathers and genitors of this purgatory, were in my mind the wisest of all their generation, and so far pass the children of light, and also the rest of their company, that they both are but fools, if ye compare them with these. It was a pleasant fiction, and from the beginning so profitable to the feigners of it, that almost, I dare boldly say, there hath been no emperor that hath gotten more by taxes and tallages of them that were alive, than these, the very and right-begotten sons of the world, got by dead men's tributes and gifts. If there be some in England, that would this sweeting of the world to be with no less policy kept still than it was born and brought forth in Rome, who then can accuse Christ of lying? No, no; as it hath been ever true, so it shall be, that the children of the world be much wiser, not only in making their things, but also in conserving them. I wot not what it is, but somewhat it is I wot, that some men be so loth to see the abuse of this monster, purgatory, which abuse is more than abominable: as who should say, there is none abuse in it, or else as though there can be none in it. They may seem heartily to love the old thing, that thus earnestly endeavour them to restore him his old name. They would not set an hair by the name, but for the thing. They be not so ignorant (no, they be crafty), but that they know if the name come again, the thing will come after. Thereby it ariseth, that some men make their cracks, that they, maugre all men's heads, have found purgatory. I cannot tell what is found. This, to pray for dead folks, this is not found, for it was never lost. How can that be found that was not lost? O subtle finders, that can find things, if God will, ere they be lost! For that cowlish deliverance, their scalary losings, their papal spoliations, and other such their figments, they cannot find. No, these be so lost, as they themselves grant, that though they seek them never so diligently, yet they shall not find them, except perchance they hope to see them come in again with their names; and that then money-gathering may return again, and deceit walk about the country, and so stablish their kingdom in all kingdoms. But to what end this chiding between the children of the world and the children of light will come, only he knoweth that once shall judge them both. Now, to make haste and to come somewhat nigher the end. Go ye to, good brethren and fathers, for the love of God, go ye to; and seeing we are here assembled, let us do something whereby we may be known to be the children of light. Let us do somewhat, lest we, which hitherto have been judged children of the world, seem even still to be so. All men call us prelates: then, seeing we be in council, let us so order ourselves, that we be prelates in honour and dignity; so we may be prelates in holiness, benevolence, diligence, and sincerity. All men know that we be here gathered, and with most fervent desire they anheale, breathe, and gape for the fruit of our convocation: as our acts shall be, so they shall name us: so that now it lieth in us, whether we will be called children of the world, or children of light. Wherefore lift up your heads, brethren, and look about with your eyes, spy what things are to be reformed in the church of England. Is it so hard, is it so great a matter for you to see many abuses in the clergy, many in the laity? What is done in the Arches? Nothing to be amended? What do they there? Do they evermore rid the people's business and matters, or cumber and ruffle them? Do they evermore correct vice, or else defend it, sometime being well corrected in other places? How many sentences be given there in time, as they ought to be? If men say truth, how many without bribes? Or if all things be well done there, what do men in bishops' Consistories? Shall you often see the punishments assigned by the laws executed, or else money-redemptions used in their stead? How think you by the ceremonies that are in England, oft times, with no little offence of weak consciences, contemned; more oftener with superstition so defiled, and so depraved, that you may doubt whether it were better some of them to tarry still, or utterly to take them away? Have not our forefathers complained of the ceremonies, of the superstition, and estimation of them? Do ye see nothing in our holidays? of the which very few were made at the first, and they to set forth goodness, virtue, and honesty: but sithens, in some places, there is neither mean nor measure in making new holidays, as who should say, this one thing is serving of God, to make this law, that no man may work. But what doth the people on these holidays? Do they give themselves to godliness, or else ungodliness? See ye nothing, brethren? If you see not, yet God seeth. God seeth all the whole holidays to be spent miserably in drunkenness, in glossing, in strife, in envy, in dancing, dicing, idleness, and gluttony. He seeth all this, and threateneth punishment for it. He seeth it, which neither is deceived in seeing, nor deceiveth when he threateneth. Thus men serve the devil; for God is not thus served, albeit ye say ye serve God. No, the devil hath more service done unto him on one holiday, than on many working days. Let all these abuses be counted as nothing, who is he that is not sorry, to see in so many holidays rich and wealthy persons to flow in delicates, and men that live by their travail, poor men, to lack necessary meat and drink for their wives and their children, and that they cannot labour upon the holidays, except they will be cited, and brought before our Officials? Were it not the office of good prelates to consult upon these matters, and to seek some remedy for them? Ye shall see, my brethren, ye shall see once, what will come of this our winking. What think ye of these images that are had more than their fellows in reputation; that are gone unto with such labour and weariness of the body, frequented with such our cost, sought out and visited with such confidence? What say ye by these images, that are so famous, so noble, so noted, being of them so many and so divers in England? Do you think that this preferring of picture to picture, image to image, is the right use, and not rather the abuse, of images? But you will say to me, Why make ye all these interrogations? and why, in these your demands, do you let and withdraw the good devotion of the people? Be not all things well done, that are done with good intent, when they be profitable to us? So, surely, covetousness both thinketh and speaketh. Were it not better for us, more for estimation, more meeter for men in our places, to cut away a piece of this our profit, if we will not cut away all, than to wink at such ungodliness, and so long to wink for a little lucre; specially if it be ungodliness, and also seem unto you ungodliness? These be two things, so oft to seek mere images, and sometime to visit the relicks of saints. And yet, as in those there may be much ungodliness committed, so there may here some superstition be hid, if that sometime we chance to visit pigs' bones instead of saints' relicks, as in time past it hath chanced, I had almost said, in England. Then this is too great a blindness, a darkness too sensible, that these should be so commended in sermons of some men, and preached to be done after such manner, as though they could not be evil done; which, notwithstanding, are such, that neither God nor man commandeth them to be done. No, rather, men commanded them either not to be done at all, or else more slowlier and seldomer to be done, forasmuch as our ancestors made this constitution: "We command the priests that they oft admonish the people, and in especial women, that they make no vows but after long deliberation, consent of their husbands and counsel of the priest." The church of England in time past made this constitution. What saw they that made this decree? They saw the intolerable abuses of images. They saw the perils that might ensue of going on pilgrimage. They saw the superstitious difference that men made between image and image. Surely, somewhat they saw. The constitution is so made, that in manner it taketh away all such pilgrimages. For it so plucketh away the abuse of them, that it leaveth either none or else seldom use of them. For they that restrain making vows for going of pilgrimage, restrain also pilgrimage; seeing that for the most part it is seen that few go on pilgrimage but vow-makers, and such as by promise bind themselves to go. And when, I pray you, should a man's wife go on pilgrimage, if she went not before she had well debated the matter with herself, and obtained the consent of her husband, being a wise man, and were also counselled by a learned priest so to do? When should she go far off to these famous images? For this the common people of England think to be going on pilgrimage; to go to some dead and notable image out of town, that is to say, far from their house. Now if your forefathers made this constitution, and yet thereby did nothing, the abuses every day more and more increased, what is left for you to do? Brethren and fathers, if ye purpose to do any thing, what should ye sooner do, than to take utterly away these deceitful and juggling images; or else, if ye know any other mean to put away abuses, to shew it, if ye intend to remove abuses? Methink it should be grateful and pleasant to you to mark the earnest mind of your forefathers, and to look upon their desire where they say in their constitution, "We _command_ you," and not, "We _counsel_ you." How have we been so long a-cold, so long slack in setting forth so wholesome a precept of the church of England, where we be so hot in all things that have any gains in them, albeit they be neither commanded us, nor yet given us by counsel; as though we had lever the abuse of things should tarry still than, it taken away, lose our profit? To let pass the solemn and nocturnal bacchanals, the prescript miracles, that are done upon certain days in the west part of England, who hath not heard? I think ye have heard of St. Blesis's heart which is at Malverne, and of St. Algar's bones, how long they deluded the people: I am afraid, to the loss of many souls. Whereby men may well conjecture, that all about in this realm there is plenty of such juggling deceits. And yet hitherto ye have sought no remedy. But even still the miserable people are suffered to take the false miracles for the true, and to lie still asleep in all kind of superstition. God have mercy upon us! Last of all, how think you of matrimony? Is all well here? What of baptism? Shall we evermore in ministering of it speak Latin, and not in English rather, that the people may know what is said and done? What think ye of these mass-priests, and of the masses themselves? What say ye? Be all things here so without abuses, that nothing ought to be amended? Your forefathers saw somewhat, which made this constitution against the venality and sale of masses, that, under pain of suspending, no priest should sell his saying of tricennals or annals. What saw they, that made this constitution? What priests saw they? What manner of masses saw they, trow ye? But at the last, what became of so good a constitution? God have mercy upon us! If there be nothing to be amended abroad, concerning the whole, let every one of us make one better: if there be neither abroad nor at home any thing to be amended and redressed, my lords, be ye of good cheer, be merry; and at the least, because we have nothing else to do, let us reason the matter how we may be richer. Let us fall to some pleasant communication; after let us go home, even as good as we came hither, that is, right-begotten children of the world, and utterly worldlings. And while we live here, let us all make bone cheer. For after this life there is small pleasure, little mirth for us to hope for; if now there be nothing to be changed in our fashions. Let us say, not as St. Peter did, "Our end approacheth nigh," this is an heavy hearing; but let us say as the evil servant said, "It will be long ere my master come." This is pleasant. Let us beat our fellows: let us eat and drink with drunkards. Surely, as oft as we do not take away the abuse of things, so oft we beat our fellows. As oft as we give not the people their true food, so oft we beat our fellows. As oft as we let them die in superstition, so oft we beat them. To be short, as oft as we blind lead them blind, so oft we beat, and grievously beat our fellows. When we welter in pleasures and idleness, then we eat and drink with drunkards. But God will come, God will come, he will not tarry long away. He will come upon such a day as we nothing look for him, and at such hour as we know not. He will come and cut us in pieces. He will reward us as he doth the hypocrites. He will set us where wailing shall be, my brethren; where gnashing of teeth shall be, my brethren. And let here be the end of our tragedy, if ye will. These be the delicate dishes prepared for the world's well-beloved children. These be the wafers and junkets provided for worldly prelates--wailing and gnashing of teeth. Can there be any mirth, where these two courses last all the feast? Here we laugh, there we shall weep. Our teeth make merry here, ever dashing in delicates; there we shall be torn with teeth, and do nothing but gnash and grind our own. To what end have we now excelled other in policy? What have we brought forth at the last? Ye see, brethren, what sorrow, what punishment is provided for you, if ye be worldlings. If ye will not thus be vexed, be ye not the children of the world. If ye will not be the children of the world, be not stricken with the love of worldly things; lean not upon them. If ye will not die eternally, live not worldly. Come, go to; leave the love of your profit; study for the glory and profit of Christ; seek in your consultations such things as pertain to Christ, and bring forth at the last somewhat that may please Christ. Feed ye tenderly, with all diligence, the flock of Christ. Preach truly the word of God. Love the light, walk in the light, and so be ye the children of light while ye are in this world, that ye may shine in the world that is to come bright as the sun, with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; to whom be all honour, praise, and glory. Amen. A SERMON OF THE REVEREND FATHER MASTER HUGH LATIMER, PREACHED IN THE SHROUDS AT ST. PAUL'S CHURCH IN LONDON, ON THE EIGHTEENTH DAY OF JANUARY, ANNO 1548. _Quaeunque scripta sunt ad nostram doctrinam scripta sunt_.--Rom. xv. 4. "All things which are written, are written for our erudition and knowledge. All things that are written in God's book, in the Bible book, in the book of the holy scripture, are written to be our doctrine." I told you in my first sermon, honourable audience, that I purposed to declare unto you two things. The one, what seed should be sown in God's field, in God's plough land; and the other, who should be the sowers: that is to say, what doctrine is to be taught in Christ's church and congregation, and what men should be the teachers and preachers of it. The first part I have told you in the three sermons past, in which I have assayed to set forth my plough, to prove what I could do. And now I shall tell you who be the ploughers: for God's word is a seed to be sown in God's field, that is, the faithful congregation, and the preacher is the sower. And it is in the gospel: _Exivit qui seminat seminare semen suum_; "He that soweth, the husbandman, the ploughman, went forth to sow his seed." So that a preacher is resembled to a ploughman, as it is in another place: _Nemo admota aratro manu, et a tergo respiciens, aptus est regno Dei_. "No man that putteth his hand to the plough, and looketh back, is apt for the kingdom of God." That is to say, let no preacher be negligent in doing his office. Albeit this is one of the places that hath been racked, as I told you of racking scriptures. And I have been one of them myself that hath racked it, I cry God mercy for it; and have been one of them that have believed and expounded it against religious persons that would forsake their order which they had professed, and would go out of their cloister: whereas indeed it toucheth not monkery, nor maketh any thing at all for any such matter; but it is directly spoken of diligent preaching of the word of God. For preaching of the gospel is one of God's plough-works, and the preacher is one of God's ploughmen. Ye may not be offended with my similitude, in that I compare preaching to the labour and work of ploughing, and the preacher to a ploughman: ye may not be offended with this my similitude; for I have been slandered of some persons for such things. It hath been said of me, "Oh, Latimer! nay, as for him, I will never believe him while I live, nor never trust him; for he likened our blessed lady to a saffron-bag:" where indeed I never used that similitude. But it was, as I have said unto you before now, according to that which Peter saw before in the spirit of prophecy, and said, that there should come after men _per quos via veritatis maledictis afficeretur_; there should come fellows "by whom the way of truth should be evil spoken of, and slandered." But in case I had used this similitude, it had not been to be reproved, but might have been without reproach. For I might have said thus: as the saffron-bag that hath been full of saffron, or hath had saffron in it, doth ever after savour and smell of the sweet saffron that it contained; so our blessed lady, which conceived and bare Christ in her womb, did ever after resemble the manners and virtues of that precious babe that she bare. And what had our blessed lady been the worse for this? or what dishonour was this to our blessed lady? But as preachers must be wary and circumspect, that they give not any just occasion to be slandered and ill spoken of by the hearers, so must not the auditors be offended without cause. For heaven is in the gospel likened to a mustard-seed: it is compared also to a piece of leaven; and as Christ saith, that at the last day he will come like a thief: and what dishonour is this to God? or what derogation is this to heaven? Ye may not then, I say, be offended with my similitude, for because I liken preaching to a ploughman's labour, and a prelate to a ploughman. But now you will ask me, whom I call a prelate? A prelate is that man, whatsoever he be, that hath a flock to be taught of him; whosoever hath any spiritual charge in the faithful congregation, and whosoever he be that hath cure of souls. And well may the preacher and the ploughman be likened together: first, for their labour of all seasons of the year; for there is no time of the year in which the ploughman hath not some special work to do: as in my country in Leicestershire, the ploughman hath a time to set forth, and to assay his plough, and other times for other necessary works to be done. And then they also maybe likened together for the diversity of works and variety of offices that they have to do. For as the ploughman first setteth forth his plough, and then tilleth his land, and breaketh it in furrows, and sometime ridgeth it up again; and at another time harroweth it and clotteth it, and sometime dungeth it and hedgeth it, diggeth it and weedeth it, purgeth and maketh it clean: so the prelate, the preacher, hath many diverse offices to do. He hath first a busy work to bring his parishioners to a right faith, as Paul calleth it, and not a swerving faith; but to a faith that embraceth Christ, and trusteth to his merits; a lively faith, a justifying faith; a faith that maketh a man righteous, without respect of works: as ye have it very well declared and set forth in the Homily. He hath then a busy work, I say, to bring his flock to a right faith, and then to confirm them in the same faith: now casting them down with the law, and with threatenings of God for sin; now ridging them up again with the gospel, and with the promises of God's favour: now weeding them, by telling them their faults, and making them forsake sin; now clotting them, by breaking their stony hearts, and by making them supplehearted, and making them to have hearts of flesh; that is, soft hearts, and apt for doctrine to enter in: now teaching to know God rightly, and to know their duty to God and their neighbours: now exhorting them, when they know their duty, that they do it, and be diligent in it; so that they have a continual work to do. Great is their business, and therefore great should be their hire. They have great labours, and therefore they ought to have good livings, that they may commodiously feed their flock; for the preaching of the word of God unto the people is called meat: scripture calleth it meat; not strawberries, that come but once a year, and tarry not long, but are soon gone: but it is meat, it is no dainties. The people must have meat that must be familiar and continual, and daily given unto them to feed upon. Many make a strawberry of it, ministering it but once a year; but such do not the office of good prelates. For Christ saith, _Quis putas est servus prudens et fidelis_? _Qui dat cibum in tempore_. "Who think you is a wise and faithful servant? He that giveth meat in due time." So that he must at all times convenient preach diligently: therefore saith he, "Who trow ye is a faithful servant?" He speaketh it as though it were a rare thing to find such a one, and as though he should say, there be but a few of them to find in the world. And how few of them there be throughout this realm that give meat to their flock as they should do, the Visitors can best tell. Too few, too few; the more is the pity, and never so few as now. By this, then, it appeareth that a prelate, or any that hath cure of soul, must diligently and substantially work and labour. Therefore saith Paul to Timothy, _Qui episcopatum desiderat, hic bonum opus desiderat_: "He that desireth to have the office of a bishop, or a prelate, that man desireth a good work." Then if it be a good work, it is work; ye can make but a work of it. It is God's work, God's plough, and that plough God would have still going. Such then as loiter and live idly, are not good prelates, or ministers. And of such as do not preach and teach, nor do their duties, God saith by his prophet Jeremy, _Maledictus qui facit opus Dei fraudulenter_; "Cursed be the man that doth the work of God fraudulently, guilefully or deceitfully:" some books have it _negligenter_, "negligently or slackly." How many such prelates, how many such bishops, Lord, for thy mercy, are there now in England! And what shall we in this case do? shall we company with them? O Lord, for thy mercy! shall we not company with them? O Lord, whither shall we flee from them? But "cursed be he that doth the work of God negligently or guilefully." A sore word for them that are negligent in discharging their office, or have done it fraudulently; for that is the thing that maketh the people ill. But true it must be that Christ saith, _Multi sunt vocati, pauci vero electi_: "Many are called, but few are chosen." Here have I an occasion by the way somewhat to say unto you; yea, for the place I alleged unto you before out of Jeremy, the forty-eighth chapter. And it was spoken of a spiritual work of God, a work that was commanded to be done; and it was of shedding blood, and of destroying the cities of Moab. For, saith he, "Cursed be he that keepeth back his sword from shedding of blood." As Saul, when he kept back the sword from shedding of blood at what time he was sent against Amaleck, was refused of God for being disobedient to God's commandment, in that he spared Agag the king. So that that place of the prophet was spoken of them that went to the destruction of the cities of Moab, among the which there was one called Nebo, which was much reproved for idolatry, superstition, pride, avarice, cruelty, tyranny, and for hardness of heart; and for these sins was plagued of God and destroyed. Now what shall we say of these rich citizens of London? What shall I say of them? Shall I call them proud men of London, malicious men of London, merciless men of London? No, no, I may not say so; they will be offended with me then. Yet must I speak. For is there not reigning in London as much pride, as much covetousness, as much cruelty, as much oppression, and as much superstition, as was in Nebo? Yes, I think, and much more too. Therefore I say, repent, O London; repent, repent. Thou hearest thy faults told thee, amend them, amend them. I think, if Nebo had had the preaching that thou hast, they would have converted. And, you rulers and officers, be wise and circumspect, look to your charge, and see you do your duties; and rather be glad to amend your ill living than to be angry when you are warned or told of your fault. What ado was there made in London at a certain man, because he said, (and indeed at that time on a just cause,) "Burgesses!" quoth he, "nay, Butterflies." Lord, what ado there was for that word! And yet would God they were no worse than butterflies! Butterflies do but their nature: the butterfly is not covetous, is not greedy, of other men's goods; is not full of envy and hatred, is not malicious, is not cruel, is not merciless. The butterfly glorieth not in her own deeds, nor preferreth the traditions of men before God's word; it committeth not idolatry, nor worshippeth false gods. But London cannot abide to be rebuked; such is the nature of man. If they be pricked, they will kick; if they be rubbed on the gall, they will wince; but yet they will not amend their faults, they will not be ill spoken of. But how shall I speak well of them? If you could be content to receive and follow the word of God, and favour good preachers, if you could bear to be told of your faults, if you could amend when you hear of them, if you would be glad to reform that is amiss; if I might see any such inclination in you, that you would leave to be merciless, and begin to be charitable, I would then hope well of you, I would then speak well of you. But London was never so ill as it is now. In times past men were full of pity and compassion, but now there is no pity; for in London their brother shall die in the streets for cold, he shall lie sick at the door between stock and stock, I cannot tell what to call it, and perish there for hunger: was there ever more unmercifulness in Nebo? I think not. In times past, when any rich man died in London, they were wont to help the poor scholars of the Universities with exhibition. When any man died, they would bequeath great sums of money toward the relief of the poor. When I was a scholar in Cambridge myself; I heard very good report of London, and knew many that had relief of the rich men of London: but now I can hear no such good report, and yet I inquire of it, and hearken for it; but now charity is waxen cold, none helpeth the scholar, nor yet the poor. And in those days, what did they when they helped the scholars? Marry, they maintained and gave them livings that were very papists, and professed the pope's doctrine: and now that the knowledge of God's word is brought to light, and many earnestly study and labour to set it forth, now almost no man helpeth to maintain them. Oh London, London! repent, repent; for I think God is more displeased with London than ever he was with the city of Nebo. Repent therefore, repent, London, and remember that the same God liveth now that punished Nebo, even the same God, and none other; and he will punish sin as well now as he did then: and he will punish the iniquity of London, as well as he did then of Nebo. Amend therefore. And ye that be prelates, look well to your office, for right prelating is busy labouring, and not lording. Therefore preach and teach, and let your plough be doing. Ye lords, I say, that live like loiterers, look well to your office; the plough is your office and charge. If you live idle and loiter, you do not your duty, you follow not your vocation: let your plough therefore be going, and not cease, that the ground may bring forth fruit. But now methinketh I hear one say unto me: Wot ye what you say? Is it a work? Is it a labour? How then hath it happened that we have had so many hundred years so many unpreaching prelates, lording loiterers, and idle ministers? Ye would have me here to make answer, and to show cause thereof. Nay, this land is not for me to plough; it is too stony, too thorny, too hard for me to plough. They have so many things that make for them, so many things to lay for themselves, that it is not for my weak team to plough them. They have to lay for themselves long customs, ceremonies and authority, placing in parliament, and many things more. And I fear me this land is not yet ripe to be ploughed: for, as the saying is, it lacketh weathering: this gear lacketh weathering; at least way it is not for me to plough. For what shall I look for among thorns, but pricking and scratching? What among stones, but stumbling? What (I had almost said) among serpents, but stinging? But this much I dare say, that since lording and loitering hath come up, preaching hath come down, contrary to the apostles' times: for they preached and lorded not, and now they lord and preach not. For they that be lords will ill go to plough: it is no meet office for them; it is not seeming for their estate. Thus came up lording loiterers: thus crept in unpreaching prelates; and so have they long continued. For how many unlearned prelates have we now at this day! And no marvel: for if the ploughmen that now be were made lords, they would clean give over ploughing; they would leave off their labour, and fall to lording outright, and let the plough stand: and then both ploughs not walking, nothing should be in the commonweal but hunger. For ever since the prelates were made lords and nobles, the plough standeth; there is no work done, the people starve. They hawk, they hunt, they card, they dice; they pastime in their prelacies with gallant gentlemen, with their dancing minions, and with their fresh companions, so that ploughing is set aside: and by their lording and loitering, preaching and ploughing is clean gone. And thus if the ploughmen of the country were as negligent in their office as prelates be, we should not long live, for lack of sustenance. And as it is necessary for to have this ploughing for the sustentation of the body, so must we have also the other for the satisfaction of the soul, or else we cannot live long ghostly. For as the body wasteth and consumeth away for lack of bodily meat, so doth the soul pine away for default of ghostly meat. But there be two kinds of inclosing, to let or hinder both these kinds of ploughing: the one is an inclosing to let or hinder the bodily ploughing, and the other to let or hinder the holiday-ploughing, the church-ploughing. The bodily ploughing is taken in and inclosed through singular commodity. For what man will let go, or diminish his private commodity for a commonwealth? And who will sustain any damage for the respect of a public commodity? The other plough also no man is diligent to set forward, nor no man will hearken to it. But to hinder and let it all men's ears are open; yea, and a great many of this kind of ploughmen, which are very busy, and would seem to be very good workmen. I fear me some be rather mock-gospellers, than faithful ploughmen. I know many myself that profess the gospel, and live nothing thereafter. I know them, and have been conversant with some of them. I know them, and (I speak it with a heavy heart) there is as little charity and good living in them as in any other; according to that which Christ said in the gospel to the great number of people that followed him, as though they had had any earnest zeal to his doctrine, whereas indeed they had it not; _Non quia vidistis signa, sed quia comedistis de panibus_. "Ye follow me," saith he, "not because ye have seen the signs and miracles that I have done; but because ye have eaten the bread, and refreshed your bodies, therefore you follow me." So that I think many one now-a-days professeth the gospel for the living's sake, not for the love they bear to God's word. But they that will be true ploughmen must work faithfully for God's sake, for the edifying of their brethren. And as diligently as the husbandman plougheth for the sustentation of the body, so diligently must the prelates and ministers labour for the feeding of the soul: both the ploughs must still be going, as most necessary for man. And wherefore are magistrates ordained, but that the tranquillity of the commonweal may be confirmed, limiting both ploughs? But now for the fault of unpreaching prelates, methink I could guess what might be said for excusing of them. They are so troubled with lordly living, they be so placed in palaces, crouched in courts, ruffling in their rents, dancing in their dominions, burdened with ambassages, pampering of their paunches, like a monk that maketh his jubilee; munching in their mangers, and moiling in their gay manors and mansions, and so troubled with loitering in their lordships, that they cannot attend it. They are otherwise occupied, some in king's matters, some are ambassadors, some of the privy council, some to furnish the court, some are lords of the parliament, some are presidents, and comptrollers of mints. Well, well, is this their duty? Is this their office? Is this their calling? Should we have ministers of the church to be comptrollers of the mints? Is this a meet office for a priest that hath cure of souls? Is this his charge? I would here ask one question: I would fain know who controlleth the devil at home in his parish, while he controlleth the mint? If the apostles might not leave the office of preaching to the deacons, shall one leave it for minting? I cannot tell you; but the saying is, that since priests have been minters, money hath been worse than it was before. And they say that the evilness of money hath made all things dearer. And in this behalf I must speak to England. "Hear, my country, England," as Paul said in his first epistle to the Corinthians, the sixth chapter; for Paul was no sitting bishop, but a walking and a preaching bishop. But when he went from them, he left there behind him the plough going still; for he wrote unto them, and rebuked them for going to law, and pleading their causes before heathen judges: "Is there," said he, "utterly among you no wise man, to be an arbitrator in matters of judgment? What, not one of all that can judge between brother and brother; but one brother goeth to law with another, and that under heathen judges? _Constituite contemptos qui sunt in ecclesia_, &c. Appoint them judges that are most abject and vile in the congregation." Which he speaketh in rebuking them; "For," saith he, _ad erubescentiam vestram dico_--"I speak it to your shame." So, England, I speak it to thy shame: is there never a nobleman to be a lord president, but it must be a prelate? Is there never a wise man in the realm to be a comptroller of the mint? I speak it to your shame. I speak it to your shame. If there be never a wise man, make a water-bearer, a tinker, a cobbler, a slave, a page, comptroller of the mint: make a mean gentleman, a groom, a yeoman, or a poor beggar, lord president. Thus I speak, not that I would have it so; but "to your shame," if there be never a gentleman meet nor able to be lord president. For why are not the noblemen and young gentlemen of England so brought up in knowledge of God, and in learning, that they may be able to execute offices in the commonweal? The king hath a great many of wards, and I trow there is a Court of Wards: why is there not a school for the wards, as well as there is a Court for their lands? Why are they not set in schools where they may learn? Or why are they not sent to the universities, that they may be able to serve the king when they come to age? If the wards and young gentlemen were well brought up in learning, and in the knowledge of God, they would not when they come to age so much give themselves to other vanities. And if the nobility be well trained in godly learning, the people would follow the same train. For truly, such as the noblemen be, such will the people be. And now, the only cause why noblemen be not made lord presidents, is because they have not been brought up in learning. Therefore for the love of God appoint teachers and schoolmasters, you that have charge of youth; and give the teachers stipends worthy their pains, that they may bring them up in grammar, in logic, in rhetoric, in philosophy, in the civil law, and in that which I cannot leave unspoken of, the word of God. Thanks be unto God, the nobility otherwise is very well brought up in learning and godliness, to the great joy and comfort of England; so that there is now good hope in the youth, that we shall another day have a flourishing commonweal, considering their godly education. Yea, and there be already noblemen enough, though not so many as I could wish, able to be lord presidents, and wise men enough for the mint. And as unmeet a thing it is for bishops to be lord presidents, or priests to be minters, as it was for the Corinthians to plead matters of variance before heathen judges. It is also a slander to the noblemen, as though they lacked wisdom and learning to be able for such offices, or else were no men of conscience, or else were not meet to be trusted, and able for such offices. And a prelate hath a charge and cure otherwise; and therefore he cannot discharge his duty and be a lord president too. For a presidentship requireth a whole man; and a bishop cannot be two men. A bishop hath his office, a flock to teach, to look unto; and therefore he cannot meddle with another office, which alone requireth a whole man: he should therefore give it over to whom it is meet, and labour in his own business; as Paul writeth to the Thessalonians, "Let every man do his own business, and follow his calling." Let the priest preach, and the noblemen handle the temporal matters. Moses was a marvellous man, a good man: Moses was a wonderful fellow, and did his duty, being a married man: we lack such as Moses was. Well, I would all men would look to their duty, as God hath called them, and then we should have a flourishing christian commonweal. And now I would ask a strange question: who is the most diligentest bishop and prelate in all England, that passeth all the rest in doing his office? I can tell, for I know him who it is; I know him well. But now I think I see you listening and hearkening that I should name him. There is one that passeth all the other, and is the most diligent prelate and preacher in all England. And will ye know who it is? I will tell you: it is the devil. He is the most diligent preacher of all other; he is never out of his diocess; he is never from his cure; ye shall never find him unoccupied; he is ever in his parish; he keepeth residence at all times; ye shall never find him out of the way, call for him when you will he is ever at home; the diligentest preacher in all the realm; he is ever at his plough: no lording nor loitering can hinder him; he is ever applying his business, ye shall never find him idle, I warrant you. And his office is to hinder religion, to maintain superstition, to set up idolatry, to teach all kind of popery. He is ready as he can be wished for to set forth his plough; to devise as many ways as can be to deface and obscure God's glory. Where the devil is resident, and hath his plough going, there away with books, and up with candles; away with bibles, and up with beads; away with the light of the gospel, and up with the light of candles, yea, at noon-days. Where the devil is resident, that he may prevail, up with all superstition and idolatry; censing, painting of images, candles, palms, ashes, holy water, and new service of men's inventing; as though man could invent a better way to honour God with than God himself hath appointed. Down with Christ's cross, up with purgatory pick-purse, up with him, the popish purgatory, I mean. Away with clothing the naked, the poor and impotent; up with decking of images, and gay garnishing of stocks and stones: up with man's traditions and his laws, down with God's traditions and his most holy word. Down with the old honour due to God, and up with the new god's honour. Let all things be done in Latin: there must be nothing but Latin, not so much as _Memento, homo, quod cinis es, et in cinerem reverteris_: "Remember, man, that thou art ashes, and into ashes thou shalt return:" which be the words that the minister speaketh unto the ignorant people, when he giveth them ashes upon Ash-Wednesday; but it must be spoken in Latin: God's word may in no wise be translated into English. Oh that our prelates would be as diligent to sow the corn of good doctrine, as Satan is to sow cockle and darnel! And this is the devilish ploughing, the which worketh to have things in Latin, and letteth the fruitful edification. But here some man will say to me, What, sir, are ye so privy of the devil's counsel, that ye know all this to be true? Truly I know him too well, and have obeyed him a little too much in condescending to some follies; and I know him as other men do, yea, that he is ever occupied, and ever busy in following his plough. I know by St. Peter, which saith of him, _Sicut leo rugiens circuit quaerens quem devoret_: "He goeth about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour." I would have this text well viewed and examined, every word of it: "_Circuit_," he goeth about in every corner of his diocess; he goeth on visitation daily, he leaveth no place of his cure unvisited: he walketh round about from place to place, and ceaseth not. "_Sicut leo_," as a lion, that is, strongly, boldly, and proudly; stately and fiercely with haughty looks, with his proud countenances, with his stately braggings. "_Rugiens_," roaring; for he letteth not slip any occasion to speak or to roar out when he seeth his time. "_Quaerens_," he goeth about seeking, and not sleeping, as our bishops do; but he seeketh diligently, he searcheth diligently all corners, where as he may have his prey. He roveth abroad in every place of his diocess; he standeth not still, he is never at rest, but ever in hand with his plough, that it may go forward. But there was never such a preacher in England as he is. Who is able to tell his diligent preaching, which every day, and every hour, laboureth to sow cockle and darnel, that he may bring out of form, and out of estimation and room, the institution of the Lord's supper, and Christ's cross? For there he lost his right; for Christ said, _Nunc judicium est mundi, princeps seculi hujus ejicietur foras. Et sicut exaltarit Moses serpentem in deserto, ita exaltari oportet Filium hominis. Et cum exaltatus fuero a terra, omnia traham ad meipsum_. "Now is the judgment of this world, and the prince of this world shall be cast out. And as Moses did lift up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of man be lift up. And when I shall be lift up from the earth, I will draw all things unto myself." For the devil was disappointed of his purpose: for he thought all to be his own; and when he had once brought Christ to the cross, he thought all cocksure. But there lost he all reigning: for Christ said, _Omnia traham ad meipsum_: "I will draw all things to myself." He meaneth, drawing of man's soul to salvation. And that he said he would do _per semetipsum_, by his own self; not by any other body's sacrifice. He meant by his own sacrifice on the cross, where he offered himself for the redemption of mankind; and not the sacrifice of the mass to be offered by another. For who can offer him but himself? He was both the offerer and the offering. And this is the prick, this is the mark at the which the devil shooteth, to evacuate the cross of Christ, and to mingle the institution of the Lord's supper; the which although he cannot bring to pass, yet he goeth about by his sleights and subtil means to frustrate the same; and these fifteen hundred years he hath been a doer, only purposing to evacuate Christ's death, and to make it of small efficacy and virtue. For whereas Christ, according as the serpent was lifted up in the wilderness, so would he himself be exalted, that thereby as many as trusted in him should have salvation; but the devil would none of that: they would have us saved by a daily oblation propitiatory, by a sacrifice expiatory, or remissory. Now if I should preach in the country, among the unlearned, I would tell what propitiatory, expiatory, and remissory is; but here is a learned auditory: yet for them that be unlearned I will expound it. Propitiatory, expiatory, remissory, or satisfactory, for they signify all one thing in effect, and is nothing else but a thing whereby to obtain remission of sins, and to have salvation. And this way the devil used to evacuate the death of Christ, that we might have affiance in other things, as in the sacrifice of the priest; whereas Christ would have us to trust in his only sacrifice. So he was, _Agnus occisus ab origine mundi_; "The Lamb that hath been slain from the beginning of the world;" and therefore he is called _juge sacrificium_, "a continual sacrifice;" and not for the continuance of the mass, as the blanchers have blanched it, and wrested it; and as I myself did once betake it. But Paul saith, _per semetipsum purgatio facta_: "By himself," and by none other, Christ "made purgation" and satisfaction for the whole world. Would Christ this word, "by himself," had been better weighed and looked upon, and _in sanctificationem_, to make them holy; for he is _juge sacrificium_, "a continual sacrifice," in effect, fruit, and operation; that like as they, which seeing the serpent hang up in the desert, were put in remembrance of Christ's death, in whom as many as believed were saved; so all men that trusted in the death of Christ shall be saved, as well they that were before, as they that came after. For he was a continual sacrifice, as I said, in effect, fruit, operation, and virtue; as though he had from the beginning of the world, and continually should to the world's end, hang still on the cross; and he is as fresh hanging on the cross now, to them that believe and trust in him, as he was fifteen hundred years ago, when he was crucified. Then let us trust upon his only death, and look for none other sacrifice propitiatory, than the same bloody sacrifice, the lively sacrifice; and not the dry sacrifice, but a bloody sacrifice. For Christ himself said, _consummatum est_: "It is perfectly finished: I have taken at my Father's hand the dispensation of redeeming mankind, I have wrought man's redemption, and have despatched the matter." Why then mingle ye him? Why do ye divide him? Why make you of him more sacrifices than one? Paul saith, _Pascha nostrum immolatus est Christus_: "Christ our passover is offered;" so that the thing is done, and Christ hath done it _semel_, once for all; and it was a bloody sacrifice, not a dry sacrifice. Why then, it is not the mass that availeth or profiteth for the quick and the dead. Wo worth thee, O devil, wo worth thee, that hast prevailed so far and so long; that hast made England to worship false gods, forsaking Christ their Lord. Wo worth thee, devil, wo worth thee, devil, and all thy angels. If Christ by his death draweth all things to himself, and draweth all men to salvation, and to heavenly bliss, that trust in him; then the priests at the mass, at the popish mass, I say, what can they draw, when Christ draweth all, but lands and goods from the right heirs? The priests draw goods and riches, benefices and promotions to themselves; and such as believed in their sacrifices they draw to the devil. But Christ is he that draweth souls unto him by his bloody sacrifice. What have we to do then but _epulari in Domino_, to eat in the Lord at his supper? What other service have we to do to him, and what other sacrifice have we to offer, but the mortification of our flesh? What other oblation have we to make, but of obedience, of good living, of good works, and of helping our neighbours? But as for our redemption, it is done already, it cannot be better: Christ hath done that thing so well, that it cannot be amended. It cannot be devised how to make that any better than he hath done it. But the devil, by the help of that Italian bishop yonder, his chaplain, hath laboured by all means that he might to frustrate the death of Christ and the merits of his passion. And they have devised for that purpose to make us believe in other vain things by his pardons; as to have remission of sins for praying on hallowed beads; for drinking of the bakehouse bowl; as a canon of Waltham Abbey once told me, that whensoever they put their loaves of bread into the oven, as many as drank of the pardon-bowl should have pardon for drinking of it. A mad thing, to give pardon to a bowl! Then to pope Alexander's holy water, to hallowed bells, palms, candles, ashes, and what not? And of these things, every one hath taken away some part of Christ's sanctification; every one hath robbed some part of Christ's passion and cross, and hath mingled Christ's death, and hath been made to be propitiatory and satisfactory, and to put away sin. Yea, and Alexander's holy water yet at this day remaineth in England, and is used for a remedy against spirits and to chase away devils; yea, and I would this had been the worst. I would this were the worst. But wo worth thee, O devil, that has prevailed to evacuate Christ's cross, and to mingle the Lord's supper. These be the Italian bishop's devices, and the devil hath pricked at this mark to frustrate the cross of Christ: he shot at this mark long before Christ came, he shot at it four thousand years before Christ hanged on the cross, or suffered his passion. For the brasen serpent was set up in the wilderness, to put men in remembrance of Christ's coming; that like as they which beheld the brasen serpent were healed of their bodily diseases, so they that looked spiritually upon Christ that was to come, in him should be saved spiritually from the devil. The serpent was set up in memory of Christ to come; but the devil found means to steal away the memory of Christ's coining, and brought the people to worship the serpent itself, and to cense him, to honour him, and to offer to him, to worship him, and to make an idol of him. And this was done by the market-men that I told you of. And the clerk of the market did it for the lucre and advantage of his master, that thereby his honour might increase; for by Christ's death he could have but small worldly advantage. And so even now so hath he certain blanchers belonging to the market, to let and stop the light of the gospel, and to hinder the king's proceedings in setting forth the word and glory of God. And when the king's majesty, with the advice of his honourable council, goeth about to promote God's word, and to set an order in matters of religion, there shall not lack blanchers that will say, "As for images, whereas they have used to be censed, and to have candles offered unto to them, none be so foolish to do it to the stock or stone, or to the image itself; but it is done to God and his honour before the image." And though they should abuse it, these blanchers will be ready to whisper the king in the ear, and to tell him, that this abuse is but a small matter; and that the same, with all other like abuses in the church, may be reformed easily. "It is but a little abuse," say they, "and it may be easily amended. But it should not be taken in hand at the first, for fear of trouble or further inconveniences. The people will not bear sudden alterations; an insurrection may be made after sudden mutation, which may be to the great harm and loss of the realm. Therefore all things shall be well, but not out of hand, for fear of further business." These be the blanchers, that hitherto have stopped the word of God, and hindered the true setting forth of the same. There be so many put-offs, so many put-byes, so many respects and considerations of worldly wisdom: and I doubt not but there were blanchers in the old time to whisper in the ear of good king Hezekiah, for the maintenance of idolatry done to the brasen serpent, as well as there hath been now of late, and be now, that can blanch the abuse of images, and other like things. But good king Hezekiah would not be so blinded; he was like to Apollos, "fervent in spirit." He would give no ear to the blanchers; he was not moved with the worldly respects, with these prudent considerations, with these policies: he feared not insurrections of the people: he feared not lest his people would bear not the glory of God; but he, without any of these respects, or policies, or considerations, like a good king, for God's sake and for conscience sake, by and by plucked down the brasen serpent, and destroyed it utterly, and beat it to powder. He out of hand did cast out all images, he destroyed all idolatry, and clearly did extirpate all superstition. He would not hear these blanchers and worldly-wise men, but without delay followeth God's cause, and destroyeth all idolatry out of hand. Thus did good king Hezekiah; for he was like Apollos, fervent in spirit, and diligent, to promote God's glory. And good hope there is, that it shall be likewise here in England; for the king's majesty is so brought up in knowledge, virtue, and godliness, that it is not to be mistrusted but that we shall have all things well, and that the glory of God shall be spread abroad throughout all parts of the realm, if the prelates will diligently apply their plough, and be preachers rather than lords. But our blanchers, which will be lords, and no labourers, when they are commanded to go and be resident upon their cures, and preach in their benefices, they would say, "What? I have set a deputy there; I have a deputy that looketh well to my flock, and the which shall discharge my duty." "A deputy," quoth he! I looked for that word all this while. And what a deputy must he be, trow ye? Even one like himself: he must be a canonist; that is to say, one that is brought up in the study of the pope's laws and decrees; one that will set forth papistry as well as himself will do; and one that will maintain all superstition and idolatry; and one that will nothing at all, or else very weakly, resist the devil's plough: yea, happy it is if he take no part with the devil; and where he should be an enemy to him, it is well if he take not the devil's part against Christ. But in the meantime the prelates take their pleasures. They are lords, and no labourers: but the devil is diligent at his plough. He is no unpreaching prelate: he is no lordly loiterer from his cure, but a busy ploughman; so that among all the prelates, and among all the pack of them that have cure, the devil shall go for my money, for he still applieth his business. Therefore, ye unpreaching prelates, learn of the devil: to be diligent in doing of your office, learn of the devil: and if you will not learn of God, nor good men, for shame learn of the devil; _ad erubescentiam vestrum dico_, "I speak it for your shame:" if you will not learn of God, nor good men, to be diligent in your office, learn of the devil. Howbeit there is now very good hope that the king's majesty, being of the help of good governance of his most honourable counsellors trained and brought up in learning, and knowledge of God's word, will shortly provide a remedy, and set an order herein; which thing that it may so be, let us pray for him. Pray for him, good people; pray for him. Ye have great cause and need to pray for him. A SERMON ON THE PARABLE OF A KING THAT MARRIED HIS SON, MADE BY MASTER LATIMER. MATTHEW XXII. [2,3.] _Simile factum est regnum coelorum homini regi qui fecit nuptias filio suo_. The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king, which married his son, and sent forth his servants to call them that, &c. This is a gospel that containeth very much matter; and there is another like unto this in the fourteenth of Luke: but they be both one in effect, for they teach both one thing; and therefore I will take them both in hand together, because they tend to one purpose. Matthew saith, "The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king, which married his son;" Luke saith, "A certain man ordained a great supper:" but there is no difference in the very substance of the matter, for they pertain to one purpose. Here is made mention of a feast-maker: therefore we must consider who was the feast-maker: secondarily, who was his son: thirdly, we must consider to whom he was married: fourthly, who were they that called the guests: fifthly, who were the guests. And then we must know how the guest-callers behaved themselves: and then, how the guests behaved themselves towards them that called them. When all these circumstances be considered, we shall find much good matters covered and hid in this gospel. Now that I may so handle these matters, that it may turn to the edification of your souls, and to the discharge of my office, I will most instantly desire you to lift up your hearts unto God, and desire his divine Majesty, in the name of his only-begotten Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ, that he will give unto us his Holy Ghost:--unto me, that I may speak the word of God, and teach you to understand the same; unto you, that you may hear it fruitfully, to the edification of your souls; so that you may be edified through it, and your lives reformed and amended; and that his honour and glory may increase daily amongst us. Wherefore I shall desire you to say with me, "Our Father," &c. Dearly beloved in the Lord, the gospel that is read this day is a parable, a similitude or comparison. For our Saviour compared the kingdom of God unto a man that made a marriage for his son. And here was a marriage. At a marriage, you know, there is commonly great feastings. Now you must know who was this feast-maker, and who was his son, and to whom he was married; and who were those that should be called, and who were the callers; how they behaved themselves, and how the guests behaved themselves towards them that called them. Now this marriage-maker, or feast-maker, is Almighty God. Luke the Evangelist calleth him a man, saying, "A certain man ordained a great supper." He calleth him a man, not that he was incarnate, or hath taken our flesh upon him: no, not so; for you must understand that there be three Persons in the Deity, God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. And these three Persons decked the Son with manhood; so that neither the Father, neither the Holy Ghost, took flesh upon them, but only the Son; he took our flesh upon him, taking it of the Virgin Mary. But Luke called God the Father a man, not because he took flesh upon him, but only compared him unto a man; not that he will affirm him to be a man. Who was he now that was married? Who was the bridegroom? Marry, that was our Saviour Jesus Christ, the second person in the Deity; the eternal Son of God. Who should be his spouse? To whom was he married? To his church and congregation: for he would have all the world to come unto him, and to be married unto him: but we see by daily experience that the most part refuse his offer. But here is shewed the state of the church of God: for this marriage, this feast, was begun at the beginning of the world, and shall endure to the end of the same: yet for all that, the most part refused it: for at the very beginning of the world, ever the most part refused to come. And so it appeareth at this time, how little a number cometh to this wedding and feast: though we have callers, yet there be but few of those that come. So ye hear that God is the feast-maker; the bridegroom is Christ, his Son, our Saviour; the bride is the congregation. Now what manner of meat was prepared at this great feast? For ye know it is commonly seen, that at a marriage the finest meat is prepared that can be gotten. What was the chiefest dish at this great banquet? What was the feast-dish? Marry, it was the bridegroom himself: for the Father, the feast-maker, prepared none other manner of meat for the guests, but the body and blood of his own natural Son. And this is the chiefest dish at this banquet; which truly is a marvellous thing, that the Father offereth his Son to be eaten. Verily, I think that no man hath heard the like. And truly there was never such kind of feasting as this is, where the Father will have his Son to be eaten, and his blood to be drunk. We read in a story, that a certain man had eaten his son; but it was done unawares: he knew not that it was his son, else no doubt he would not have eaten him. The story is this: There was a king named Astyages, which had heard by a prophecy, that one Cyrus should have the rule and dominion over his realm after his departure; which thing troubled the said king very sore, and therefore [he] sought all the ways and means how to get the said Cyrus out of the way; how to kill him, so that he should not be king after him. Now he had a nobleman in his house, named Harpagus, whom he appointed to destroy the said Cyrus: but howsoever the matter went, Cyrus was preserved and kept alive, contrary to the king's mind. Which thing when Astyages heard, what doth he? This he did: Harpagus, that nobleman which was put in trust to kill Cyrus, had a son in the court, whom the king commanded to be taken; his head, hands, and feet to be cut off; and his body to be prepared, roasted, or sodden, of the best manner as could be devised. After that, he biddeth Harpagus to come and eat with him, where there was jolly cheer; one dish coming after another. At length the king asked him, "Sir, how liketh you your fare?" Harpagus thanketh the king, with much praising the king's banquet. Now the king perceiving him to be merrily disposed, commanded one of his servants to bring in the head, hands, and feet of Harpagus's son. When it was done, the king showed him what manner of meat he had eaten, asking him how it liketh him. Harpagus made answer, though with an heavy heart, _Quod regi placet, id mihi quoque placet_; "Whatsoever pleaseth the king, that also pleaseth me." And here we have an ensample of a flatterer, or dissembler: for this Harpagus spake against his own heart and conscience. Surely, I fear me, there be a great many of flatterers in our time also, which will not be ashamed to speak against their own heart and consciences, like as this Harpagus did; which had, no doubt, a heavy heart, and in his conscience the act of the king misliked him, yet for all that, with his tongue he praised the same. So I say, we read not in any story, that at any time any father had eaten his son willingly and wittingly; and this Harpagus, of whom I rehearsed the story, did it unawares. But the Almighty God, which prepared this feast for all the world, for all those that will come unto it, he offereth his only Son to be eaten, and his blood to be drunken. Belike he loved his guests well, because he did feed them with so costly a dish. Again, our Saviour, the bridegroom, offereth himself at his last supper, which he had with his disciples, his body to be eaten, and his blood to be drunk. And to the intent that it should be done to our great comfort; and then again to take away all cruelty, irksomeness, and horribleness, he sheweth unto us how we shall eat him, in what manner and form; namely, spiritually, to our great comfort: so that whosoever eateth the mystical bread, and drinketh the mystical wine worthily, according to the ordinance of Christ, he receiveth surely the very body and blood of Christ spiritually, as it shall be most comfortable unto his soul. He eateth with the mouth of his soul, and digesteth with the stomach of his soul, the body of Christ. And to be short: whosoever believeth in Christ, putteth his hope, trust, and confidence in him, he eateth and drinketh him: for the spiritual eating is the right eating to everlasting life; not the corporal eating, as the Capernaites understood it. For that same corporal eating, on which they set their minds, hath no commodities at all; it is a spiritual meat that feedeth our souls. But I pray you, how much is this supper of Christ regarded amongst us, where he himself exhibiteth unto us his body and blood? How much, I say, is it regarded? How many receive it with the curate or minister? O Lord, how blind and dull are we to such things, which pertain to our salvation! But I pray you, wherefore was it ordained principally? Answer: it was ordained for our help, to help our memory withal; to put us in mind of the great goodness of God, in redeeming us from everlasting death by the blood of our Saviour Christ; yea, and to signify unto us, that his body and blood is our meat and drink for our souls, to feed them to everlasting life. If we were now so perfect as we ought to be, we should not have need of it: but to help our imperfectness it was ordained of Christ; for we be so forgetful, when we be not pricked forward, we have soon forgotten all his benefits. Therefore to the intent that we might better keep it in memory, and to remedy this our slothfulness, our Saviour hath ordained this his supper for us, whereby we should remember his great goodness, his bitter passion and death, and so strengthen our faith: so that he instituted this supper for our sake, to make us to keep in fresh memory his inestimable benefits. But, as I said before, it is in a manner nothing regarded amongst us: we care not for it; we will not come unto it. How many be there, think ye, which regard this supper of the Lord as much as a testoon? But very few, no doubt of it: and I will prove that they regard it not so much. If there were a proclamation made in this town, that whosoever would come unto the church at such an hour, and there go to the communion with the curate, should have a testoon; when such a proclamation were made, I think, truly, all the town would come and celebrate the communion to get a testoon: but they will not come to receive the body and blood of Christ, the food and nourishment of their souls, to the augmentation and strength of their faith! Do they not more regard now a testoon than Christ? But the cause which letteth us from celebrating of the Lord's Supper, is this: we have no mind nor purpose to leave sin and wickedness, which maketh us not to come to this supper, because we be not ready nor meet to receive it. But I require you in God's behalf; leave your wickedness, that ye may receive it worthily, according to his institution. For this supper is ordained, as I told you before, for our sake, to our profits and commodities: for if we were perfect, we should not need this outward sacrament; but our Saviour, knowing our weakness and forgetfulness, ordained this supper to the augmentation of our faith, and to put us in remembrance of his benefits. But we will not come: there come no more at once, but such as give the holy loaves from house to house; which follow rather the custom than any thing else. Our Saviour Christ saith in the gospel of St. John, _Ego sum panis virus, qui de coelo descendi_; "I am the living bread which came down from heaven." Therefore whosoever feedeth of our Saviour Christ, he shall not perish; death shall not prevail against him: his soul shall depart out of his body, yet death shall not get the victory over him; he shall not be damned. He that cometh to that marriage, to that banquet, death shall be unto him but an entrance or a door to everlasting life. _Panis quem ego dabo caro mea est_; "The bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." As many as will feed upon him, shall attain to everlasting life: they shall never die; they shall prevail against death; death shall not hurt them, because he hath lost his strength. If we would consider this, no doubt we would be more desirous to come to the communion than we be; we would not be so cold; we would be content to leave our naughty living, and come to the Lord's table. Now ye have heard what shall be the chiefest dish at this marriage, namely, the body and blood of Christ. But now there be other dishes, which be sequels or hangings-on, wherewith the chief dish is powdered: that is, remission of sins; also the Holy Ghost, which ruleth and governeth our hearts; also the merits of Christ, which are made ours. For when we feed upon this dish worthily, then we shall have remission of our sins; we shall receive the Holy Ghost. Moreover, all the merits of Christ are ours; his fulfilling of the law is ours; and so we be justified before God, and finally attain to everlasting life. As many, therefore, as feed worthily of this dish, shall have all these things with it, and in the end everlasting life. St. Paul saith, _Qui proprio Filio suo non pepercit, sed pro nobis omnibus tradidit illum, quomodo non etiam cum illo omnia nobis donabit_? "He which spared not his own Son, but gave him for us all, how shall he not with him give us all things also?" Therefore they that be in Christ are partakers of all his merits and benefits; of everlasting life, and of all felicity. He that hath Christ hath all things that are Christ's. He is our preservation from damnation; he is our comfort; he is our help, our remedy. When we feed upon him, then we shall have remission of our sins: the same remission of sins is the greatest and most comfortable thing that can be in the world. O what a comfortable thing is this, when Christ saith, _Remittuntur tibi peccata_, "Thy sins are forgiven unto thee!" And this is a standing sentence; it was not spoken only to the same one man, but it is a general proclamation unto all us: all and every one that believeth in him shall have forgiveness of their sins. And this proclamation is cried out daily by his ministers and preachers; which proclamation is the word of grace, the word of comfort and consolation. For like as sin is the most fearful and the most horriblest thing in heaven and in earth, so the most comfortablest thing is the remedy against sin; which remedy is declared and offered unto us in this word of grace and the power to distribute this remedy against sins he hath given unto his ministers, which be God's treasurers, distributers of the word of God. For now he speaketh by me, he calleth you to this wedding by me, being but a poor man; yet he hath sent me to call you. And though he be the author of the word, yet he will have men to be called through his ministers to that word. Therefore let us give credit unto the minister, when he speaketh God's word: yea, rather let us credit God when he speaketh by his ministers, and offereth us remission of our sins by his word. For there is no sin so great in this world, but it is pardonable as long as we be in this world, and call for mercy: for here is the time of mercy; here we may come to forgiveness of our sins. But if we once die in our sins and wickedness, so that we be damned, let us not look for remission afterwards: for the state after this life is unchangeable. But as long as we be here, we may cry for mercy. Therefore let us not despair: let us amend our lives, and cry unto God for forgiveness of our sins; and then no doubt we shall obtain remission, if we call with a faithful heart upon him, for so he hath promised unto us in his most holy word. The holy scripture maketh mention of a sin against the Holy Ghost, which sin cannot be forgiven, neither in this world, nor in the world to come. And this maketh many men unquiet in their hearts and consciences: for some there be which ever be afraid, lest they have committed that same sin against the Holy Ghost, which is irremissible. Therefore some say, "I cannot tell whether I have sinned against the Holy Ghost or not: if I have committed that sin, I know I shall be damned." But I tell you what ye shall do: despair not of the mercy of God, for it is immeasurable. I cannot deny but that there is a sin against the Holy Ghost, which is irremissible: but we cannot judge of it aforehand, we cannot tell which man hath committed that sin or not, as long as he is alive; but when he is once gone, then I can judge whether he sinned against the Holy Ghost or not. As now I can judge that Nero, Saul, and Judas, and such like, that died in sins and wickedness, did commit this sin against the Holy Ghost: for they were wicked, and continued in their wickedness still to the very end; they made an end in their wickedness. But we cannot judge whether one of us sin this sin against the Holy Ghost, or not; for though a man be wicked at this time, yet he may repent, and leave his wickedness tomorrow, and so not commit that sin against the Holy Ghost. Our Saviour Christ pronounced against the scribes and Pharisees, that they had committed that sin against the Holy Ghost; because he knew their hearts, he knew they would still abide in their wickedness to the very end of their lives. But we cannot pronounce this sentence against any man, for we know not the hearts of men: he that sinneth now, peradventure shall be turned tomorrow, and leave his sins, and so be saved. Further, the promises of our Saviour Christ are general; they pertain to all mankind: he made a general proclamation, saying, _Qui credit in me, habet vitam aeternam_; "Whosoever believeth in me hath everlasting life." Likewise St. Paul saith, _Gratia exsuperat supra peccatum_; "The grace and mercies of God exceedeth far our sins." Therefore let us ever think and believe that the grace of God, his mercy and goodness, exceedeth our sins. Also consider what Christ saith with his own mouth: _Venite ad me, omnes qui laboratis, &c_. "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are laden, and I will ease you." Mark, here he saith, "Come all ye:" wherefore then should any body despair, or shut out himself from these promises of Christ, which be general, and pertain to the whole world? For he saith, "Come all unto me." And then again he saith, _Refocillabo vos_, "I will refresh you:" you shall be eased from the burdens of your sins. Therefore, as I said before, he that is blasphemous, and obstinately wicked, and abideth in his wickedness still to the very end, he sinneth against the Holy Ghost; as St. Augustine, and all other godly writers do affirm. But he that leaveth his wickedness and sins, is content to amend his life, and then believing in Christ, seeketh salvation and everlasting life by him, no doubt that man or woman, whosoever he or they be, shall be saved: for they feed upon Christ, upon that meat that God the Father, this feast-maker, hath prepared for all his guests. You have heard now who is the maker of this feast or banquet: and again, you have heard what meat is prepared for the guests; what a costly dish the house-father hath ordained at the wedding of his son. But now ye know, that where there be great dishes and delicate fare, there be commonly prepared certain sauces, which shall give men a great lust and appetite to their meats; as mustard, vinegar, and such like sauces. So this feast, this costly dish, hath its sauces; but what be they? Marry, the cross, affliction, tribulation, persecution, and all manner of miseries: for, like as sauces make lusty the stomach to receive meat, so affliction stirreth up in us a desire to Christ. For when we be in quietness, we are not hungry, we care not for Christ: but when we be in tribulation, and cast in prison, then we have a desire to him; then we learn to call upon him; then we hunger and thirst after him; then we are desirous to feed upon him. As long as we be in health and prosperity, we care not for him; we be slothful, we have no stomach at all; and therefore these sauces are very necessary for us. We have a common saying amongst us, when we see a fellow sturdy, lofty, and proud, men say, "This is a saucy fellow;" signifying him to be a high-minded fellow, which taketh more upon him than he ought to do, or his estate requireth: which thing, no doubt, is naught and ill; for every one ought to behave himself according unto his calling and estate. But he that will be a christian man, that intendeth to come to heaven, must be a saucy fellow; he must be well powdered with the sauce of affliction, and tribulation; not with proudness and stoutness, but with miseries and calamities: for so it is written, _Omnes qui pie volunt vivere in Christo persecutionem patientur_; "Whosoever will live godly in Christ, he shall have persecution and miseries:" he shall have sauce enough to his meat. Again, our Saviour saith, _Qui vult meus esse discipulus, abneget semetipsum et tollat crucem suam et sequatur me_; "He that will be my disciple must deny himself and take his cross upon him, and follow me." Is there any man that will feed upon me, that will eat my flesh and drink my blood? Let him forsake himself. O this is a great matter; this is a biting thing, the denying of my own will!' As for an ensample: I see a fair woman, and conceive in my heart an ill appetite to commit lechery with her; I desire to fulfil my wanton lust with her. Here is my appetite, my lust, my will: but what must I do? Marry, I must deny myself, and follow Christ. What is that? I must not follow my own desire, but the will and pleasure of Christ. Now what saith he? _Non fornicaberis, non adulteraberis_; "Thou shalt not be a whoremonger, thou shalt not be a wedlock-breaker." Here I must deny myself, and my will, and give place unto his will; abhor and hate my own will. Yea, and furthermore I must earnestly call upon him, that he will give me grace to withstand my own lust and appetite, in all manner of things which may be against his will: as when a man doth me wrong, taketh my living from me, or hurteth me in my good name and fame, my will is to avenge myself upon him, to do him a foul turn again; but what saith God? _Mihi vindicta, ego retribuam_; "Unto me belongeth vengeance, I will recompense the same." Now here I must give over my own will and pleasure, and obey his will: this I must do, if I will feed upon him, if I will come to heaven. But this is a bitter thing, a sour sauce, a sharp sauce; this sauce maketh a stomach: for when I am injured or wronged, or am in other tribulation, then I have a great desire for him, to feed upon him, to be delivered from trouble, and to attain to quietness and joy. There is a learned man which hath a saying which is most true: he saith, _Plus crux quam tranquillitas invitat ad Christum_; "The cross and persecution bring us sooner to Christ than prosperity and wealth." Therefore St. Peter saith, _Humiliamini sub potenti manu Dei_; "Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God." Look, what God layeth upon you, bear it willingly and humbly. But you will say, "I pray you, tell me what is my cross?" Answer: This that God layeth upon you, that same is your cross; not that which you of your own wilfulness lay upon yourselves: as there was a certain sect which were called Flagellarii, which scourged themselves with whips till the blood ran from their bodies; this was a cross, but it was not the cross of God. No, no: he laid not that upon them, they did it of their own head. Therefore look, what God layeth upon me, that same is my cross, which I ought to take in good part; as when I fall in poverty, or in miseries, I ought to be content withal; when my neighbour doth me wrong, taketh away my goods, robbeth me of my good name and fame, I shall bear it willingly, considering that it is God's cross, and that nothing can be done against me without his permission. There falleth never a sparrow to the ground without his permission; yea, not a hair falleth from our head without his will. Seeing then that there is nothing done without his will, I ought to bear this cross which he layeth upon me willingly, without any murmuring or grudging. But I pray you, consider these words of St. Peter well: _Humiliamini sub potenti manu Dei_; "Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God." Here St. Peter signifieth unto us that God is a mighty God, which can take away the cross from us when it seemeth him good; yea, and he can send patience in the midst of all trouble and miseries. St. Paul, that elect instrument of God, shewed a reason wherefore God layeth afflictions upon us, saying: _Corripimur a Domino, ne cum mundo condemnemur_; "We are chastened of the Lord, lest we should be condemned with the world." For you see by daily experience, that the most part of wicked men are lucky in this world; they bear the swing, all things goeth after their minds; for God letteth them have their pleasures here. And therefore this is a common saying, "The more wicked, the more lucky:" but they that pertain to God, that shall inherit everlasting life, they must go to the pot; they must suffer here, according to that scripture, _Judicium a domo Dei incipit_; "The judgment of God beginneth at the house of God." Therefore it cometh of the goodness of God, when we be put to taste the sauce of tribulation: for he doth it to a good end, namely, that we should not be condemned with this wicked world. For these sauces are very good for us; for they make us more hungry and lusty to come to Christ and feed upon him. And truly, when it goeth well with us, we forget Christ, our hearts and minds are not upon him: therefore it is better to have affliction than to be in prosperity. For there is a common saying, _Vexatio dat intellectum_; "Vexation giveth understanding." David, that excellent king and prophet, saith, _Bonum est mihi quod humiliasti me, Domine_: "Lord," saith he, "it is good for me that thou hast pulled down my stomach, that thou hast humbled me." But I pray you, what sauce had David, how was he humbled? Truly thus: his own son defiled his daughter. After that, Absalom, one other of his sons, killed his own brother. And this was not enough, but his own son rose up against him, and traitorously cast him out of his kingdom, and defiled his wives in the sight of all the people. Was not he vexed? had he not sauces? Yes, yes: yet for all that he cried not out against God; he murmured not, but saith, _Bonum est mihi quod humiliasti me_; "Lord, it is good for me that thou hast humbled me, that thou hast brought me low." Therefore when we be in trouble, let us be of good comfort, knowing that God doth it for the best. But for all that, the devil, that old serpent, the enemy of mankind, doth what he can day and night to bring us this sauce, to cast us into persecution, or other miseries: as it appeareth in the gospel of Matthew, where our Saviour casting him out of a man, seeing that he could do no more harm, he desired Christ to give him leave to go into the swine; and so he cast them all into the sea. Where it appeareth, that the devil studieth and seeketh all manner of ways to hurt us, either in soul, or else in body. But for all that, let us not despair, but rather lift up our hearts unto God, desiring his help and comfort; and no doubt, when we do so, he will help: he will either take away the calamities, or else mitigate them, or at the leastwise send patience into our hearts, that we may bear it willingly. Now you know, at a great feast, when there is made a delicate dinner, and the guests fare well, at the end of the dinner they have _bellaria_, certain subtleties, custards, sweet and delicate things: so when we come to this dinner, to this wedding, and feed upon Christ, and take his sauces which he hath prepared for us, at the end cometh the sweetmeat. What is that? Marry, remission of sins, and everlasting life; such joy, that no tongue can express, nor heart can think, which God hath prepared for all them that come to this dinner, and feed upon his Son, and taste of his sauces. And this is the end of this banquet. This banquet, or marriage-dinner, was made at the very beginning of the world. God made this marriage in paradise, and called the whole world unto it, saying, _Semen mulieris conteret caput serpentis_; "The Seed of the woman shall vanquish the head of the serpent." This was the first calling; and this calling stood unto the faithful in as good stead as it doth unto us, which have a more manifest calling. Afterward Almighty God called again with these words, speaking to Abraham: _Ego ero Deus tuus et seminis tui post te_; "I will be thy God, and thy seed's after thee." Now what is it to be our God? Forsooth to be our defender, our comforter, our deliverer, and helper. Who was Abraham's seed? Even Christ the Son of God, he was Abraham's seed: in him, and through him, all the world shall be blessed; all that believe in him, all that come to this dinner, and feed upon him. After that, all the prophets, their only intent was to call the people to this wedding. Now after the time was expired which God had appointed, he said, _Venite, parata sunt omnia_; "Come, all things are ready." But who are these callers? The first was John Baptist, which not only called with his mouth, but also shewed with his finger that meat which God had prepared for the whole world. He saith, _Ecce Agnus Dei qui tollit peccata mundi_; "Lo, the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world." Also Christ himself called, saying, _Venite ad me, omnes qui laboratis_; "Come to me, all ye that travail and labour, and I will refresh you." Likewise the apostles cried, and called all the whole world; as it is written, _Exivit sonus eorum per universam terram_; "Their sound is gone throughout all the world." But, I pray you, what thanks had they for their calling, for their labour? Verily this: John Baptist was beheaded; Christ was crucified; the apostles were killed: this was their reward for their labours. So all the preachers shall look for none other reward: for no doubt they must be sufferers, they must taste of these sauces: their office is, _arguere mundum de peccato_, "to rebuke the world of sin;" which no doubt is a thankless occupation. _Ut audiant montes judicia Domini_, "That the high hills," that is, great princes and lords, "may hear the judgments of the Lord:" they must spare no body; they must rebuke high and low, when they do amiss; they must strike them with the sword of God's word: which no doubt is a thankless occupation; yet it must be done, for God will have it so. There be many men, which be not so cruel as to persecute or to kill the preachers of God's word; but when they be called to feed upon Christ, to come to this banquet, to leave their wicked livings, then they begin to make their excuses; as it appeared here in this gospel, where "the first said, I have bought a farm, and I must needs go and see it; I pray thee have me excused. Another said, I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove them; I pray thee have me excused. The third said, I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come." And these were their excuses. You must take heed that you mistake not this text: for after the outward letter it seemeth as though no husbandman, no buyer or seller, nor married man shall enter the kingdom of God. Therefore ye must take heed that ye understand it aright. For to be a husbandman, to be a buyer or seller, to be a married man, is a good thing, and allowed of God: but the abuse of such things is reproved. Husbandman, and married man, every one in his calling, may use and do the works of his calling. The husbandman may go to plough; they may buy and sell; also, men may marry; but they may not set their hearts upon it. The husbandman may not so apply his husbandry to set aside the hearing of the word of God; for when he doth so, he sinneth damnably: for he more regardeth his husbandry than God and his word; he hath all lust and pleasure in his husbandry, which pleasure is naught. As there be many husbandmen which will not come to service; they make their excuses that they have other business: but this excusing is naught; for commonly they go about wicked matters, and yet they would excuse themselves, to make themselves faultless; or, at the least way, they will diminish their faults, which thing itself is a great wickedness; to do wickedly, and then to defend that same wickedness, to neglect and despise God's word, and then to excuse such doings, like as these men do here in this gospel. The husbandman saith, "I have bought a farm; therefore have me excused: the other saith, I have bought five yoke of oxen; I pray thee have me excused:" Now when he cometh to the married man, that same fellow saith not, "Have me excused," as the others say; but he only saith, "I cannot come." Where it is to be noted, that the affections of carnal lusts and concupiscence are the strongest above all the other: for there be some men which set all their hearts upon voluptuousness; they regard nothing else, neither God nor his word; and therefore this married man saith, "I cannot come;" because his affections are more strong and more vehement than the other men's were. But what shall be their reward which refuse to come? The house-father saith, "I say unto you, that none of those men which were bidden shall taste of my supper." With these words Christ our Saviour teacheth us, that all those that love better worldly things than God and his word shall be shut out from his supper; that is to say, from everlasting joy and felicity: for it is a great matter to despise God's word, or the minister of the same; for the office of preaching is the office of salvation; it hath warrants in scripture, it is grounded upon God's word. St. Paul to the Romans maketh a gradation of such-wise: _Omnis quicunque invocaverit nomen Domini salvabitur: quomodo ergo invocabunt in quem non crediderunt, aut quomodo credent ei quem non audisrunt_? that is to say, "Whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord, shall be saved: but how shall they call upon him, in whom they believe not? How shall they believe on him of whom they have not heard? How shall they hear without a preacher? And how shall they preach, except they be sent?" At the length he concludeth, saying, _Fides ex auditu_; "Faith cometh by hearing." Where ye may perceive, how necessary a thing it is to hear God's word, and how needful a thing it is to have preachers, which may teach us the word of God: for by hearing we must come to faith; through faith we must be justified. And therefore Christ saith himself, _Qui credit in me, habet vitam aeternam_; "He that believeth in me hath everlasting life." When we hear God's word by the preacher, and believe that same, then we shall be saved: for St. Paul saith, _Evangelium est potentia Dei ad salutem omni credenti_; "The gospel is the power of God unto salvation to all that believe; the gospel preached is God's power to salvation of all believers." This is a great commendation of this office of preaching: therefore we ought not to despise it, or little regard it; for it is God's instrument, whereby he worketh faith in our hearts. Our Saviour saith to Nicodeme, _Nisi quis renatus fuerit_, "Except a man be born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God." But how cometh this regeneration? By hearing and believing of the word of God: for so saith St. Peter, _Renati non ex semine mortali corruptibili_; "We are born anew, not of mortal seed, but of immortal, by the word of God." Likewise Paul saith in another place, _Visum est Deo per stultitiam praedicationis salvos facere credentes_; "It pleased God to save the believers through the foolishness of preaching." But, peradventure, you will say, "What, shall a preacher teach foolishness?" No, not so: the preacher, when he is a right preacher, he preacheth not foolishness, but he preacheth the word of God; but it is taken for foolishness, the world esteemeth it for a trifle: but howsoever the world esteemeth it, St. Paul saith that God will save his through it. Here I might take occasion to inveigh against those which little regard the office of preaching; which are wont to say, "'What need we such preachings every day? Have I not five wits? I know as well what is good or ill, as he doth that preacheth." But I tell thee, my friend, be not too hasty; for when thou hast nothing to follow but thy five wits, thou shalt go to the devil with them. David, that holy prophet, said not so: he trusted not his five wits, but he said, _Lucerna pedibus meis verbum tuum, Domine_; "Lord, thy word is a lantern unto my feet." Here we learn not to despise the word of God, but highly to esteem it, and reverently to hear it; for the holy day is ordained and appointed to none other thing, but that we should at that day hear the word of God, and exercise ourselves in all godliness. But there be some which think that this day is ordained only for feasting, drinking, or gaming, or such foolishness; but they be much deceived: this day was appointed of God that we should hear his word, and learn his laws, and so serve him. But I dare say the devil hath no days so much service as upon Sundays or holy days; which Sundays are appointed to preaching, and to hear God's most holy word. Therefore God saith not only in his commandments, that we shall abstain from working; but he saith, _Sanctificabis_, "Thou shalt hallow:" so that holy day keeping is nothing else but to abstain from good works, and to do better works; that is, to come together, and celebrate the Communion together, and visit the sick bodies. These are holy-day works; and for that end God commanded us to abstain from bodily works, that we might be more meet and apt to do those works which he hath appointed unto us, namely, to feed our souls with his word, to remember his benefits, and to give him thanks, and to call upon him. So that the holy-day may be called a marriage-day, wherein we are married unto God; which day is very needful to be kept. The foolish common people think it to be a belly- cheer day, and so they make it a surfeiting day: there is no wickedness, no rebellion, no lechery, but she hath most commonly her beginning upon the holy-day. We read a story in the fifteenth chapter of the book of Numbers, that there was a fellow which gathered sticks upon the sabbath-day; he was a despiser of God's ordinances and laws, like as they that now-a-days go about other business, when they should hear the word of God, and come to the Common Prayer: which fellows truly have need of sauce, to be made more lustier to come and feed upon Christ than they be. Now Moses and the people consulted with the Lord, what they should do, how they should punish that fellow which had so transgressed the sabbath-day. "He shall die," saith God: which thing is an ensample for us to take heed, that we transgress not the law of the sabbath-day. For though God punish us not by and by, as this man was punished; yet he is the very self-same God that he was before, and will punish one day, either here, or else in the other world, where the punishment shall be everlasting. Likewise in the seventeenth chapter of the prophet Jeremy God threateneth his fearful wrath and anger unto those which do profane his sabbath-day. Again, he promiseth his favour and all prosperity to them that will keep the holy-days; saying, "Princes and kings shall go through thy gates," that is to say, Thou shalt be in prosperity, in wealth, and great estimation amongst thy neighbours. Again: "If ye will not keep my sabbath-day, I will kindle a fire in your gates;" that is to say, I will destroy you, I will bring you to nought, and burn your cities with fire. These words pertain as well unto us at this time, as they pertained to them at their time: for God hateth the disallowing of the sabbath as well now as then; for he is and remaineth still the old God: he will have us to keep his sabbath, as well now as then: for upon the sabbath-day God's seed-plough goeth; that is to say, the ministry of his word is executed; for the ministering of God's word is God's plough. Now upon the Sundays God sendeth his husbandmen to come and till; he sendeth his callers to come and call to the wedding, to bid the guests; that is, all the world to come to that supper. Therefore, for the reverence of God, consider these things: consider who calleth, namely, God; consider again who be the guests; all ye. Therefore I call you in God's name, come to this supper; hallow the sabbath-day; that is, do your holy-day work, come to this supper; for this day was appointed of God to that end, that his word should be taught and heard. Prefer not your own business therefore before the hearing of the word of God. Remember the story of that man which gathered sticks upon the holy day, and was put to death by the consent of God: where God shewed himself not a cruel God, but he would give warning unto the whole world by that man, that all the world should keep holy his sabbath-day. The almighty ever-living God give us grace to live so in this miserable world, that we may at the end come to the great sabbath-day, where there shall be everlasting joy and gladness! _Amen_. 
17939	----	Transcriber's Note: Page numbers are indicated thus [3] at the end of each printed page. The Messiah Pulpit A STATEMENT: the Future of This Church By John Haynes Holmes Minister of the Church of the Messiah Series 1918-1919----No. VI PRICE, FIVE CENTS Published by the Church of the Messiah Park Avenue and 34th Street New York City [1] NOTICE The Messiah Pulpit, by tradition and practice, is a free platform, dedicated to the ideal of truth. Its sermons, in both their spoken and written form, are the utterances of the preacher, who accepts for them exclusive responsibility. The publication of these sermons is made possible by a private fund for this purpose. Contributions to this fund are needed, and may be sent to Rev. John Haynes Holmes, 61 East 34th Street, New York City. [2] A STATEMENT: On the Future of This Church On Sunday, November 24 last, as most of you know. I was invited by unanimous vote of the people of All Souls Church, Chicago, "to take up the work laid down by (their) beloved pastor," the late Dr. Jenkin Lloyd Jones. On Thursday, November 28, I received this call through the personal visitation of two members of the Chicago church, and agreed to give it most earnest consideration. On Sunday, December 1, through my associate, Mr. Brown, I announced this call to the congregation of the Church of the Messiah, explaining that it involved the ministry of All Souls Church, the directorship of Abraham Lincoln Centre, and the editorship of the weekly liberal religious journal, called "Unity." I stated in my announcement that I had asked and been granted ample time for the consideration of this call, but that I intended to answer it as speedily as possible. On Thursday last, just five weeks to a day after receiving the invitation to Chicago, I sent my reply for transmission to the people of All Souls Church this morning. I choose this same time to announce to you my decision. At the beginning of my consideration of the problem, I found questions of personal inclination and comfort inevitably to the fore. For twelve years minus one month, I have lived and labored in New York City. Every particle of moral energy which I possess, I have invested here. Nearly all of my friends are associated with this community. Especially am I bound by ties of deepest reverence and affection to this church. Here are memories of joy and sorrow and great trial which are more truly a part of me than the voice with which I speak, or the hand with which I turn these pages. It [3] needed but this single summons to teach me what I had not known--how deeply my roots are struck into the soil of this place, and how great the pain and hazard of their exposure, removal and replanting. It very soon became clear to me, however, that personal considerations could rightly have but little part in the settlement of this problem. In no spirit of bravado, but in simplest recognition of the truth, I say to you that I believe I would have been betraying the profession which I have sworn to serve had I permitted conditions of personal affection, however lovely and precious, to determine my decision in this case. I take seriously the fact of my ordination--that as a minister of religion I have been "set apart," as the traditional phrase has it, to the high purpose of propagating an idea, championing a cause, seeking the best and the highest that I know in terms of God and of his holy will. I am here, in other words, not to make or to keep friends, not to enjoy pleasant associations of hand and heart, not even to serve a particular church, but to serve, perhaps at the cost of these other and more personal things, the great idea of which I speak. To allow my individual sentiments to fix the place and fashion of my professional service, would be to me as dastardly a thing as to allow considerations of profit or prestige to make decision. Not even my wife or my children could interfere in this case. My problem was to determine where I could best advance the ideals to which I have given my life--where I could find the weapons or tools best fitted to my hand for the doing of my work--and there to stand. To remain in this church and city might be infinitely desirable to me as a man; but I must decide not as a man but as a minister, and therefore if I remained, it must be because I could do no other! But there was another consideration which held me to this impersonal relation to the problem. I refer to the fact that the Great War had brought to a focus in my own soul the inward and largely unconscious spiritual development of a decade. I had discovered, through [4] much tribulation of mind and heart, the ideal which I sought to serve, and disclosed to myself at least the picture of the realization of this ideal in institutional form. This same Great War, however, had distracted my parish, absorbed the energies and attention of my people, and in spite of wellnigh unexampled forbearance, had introduced elements of misunderstanding and even alienation. The conflict, in other words, had no more left our church unchanged than the world itself. We had been shaken and distressed and tortured and driven, so that we were no longer the persons we once were. You knew me, and I knew you, as we were yesterday; but we did not know one another as we were going to be, or should want to be, tomorrow. It was necessary that we should meet not on the plane of the past, nor even of the present, but on the plane of the future, and thus find ourselves again, and discover what now, in this new world, we wanted, and would be able, to do together. Months before the War was ended, it had clearly entered into my mind to summon you to conference on our future relations as minister and people. This invitation from Chicago but precipitated suddenly what was in itself inevitable sooner or later. It introduced into a problem already existing between you and me, a third element--namely, the people of Abraham Lincoln Centre. The problem, however, in its nature, remained the same. I have work to do. I have set my hand to the plow, and I must find the field where I can best drive this plow through the furrow of my sowing. In order to make plain the situation, as it has presented itself to my mind during the last five weeks, I must turn to the past for a moment, and bring to you therefrom some fragments of autobiography. Those of you who were present at the meeting on last Monday night, have already heard what I am about to say. I beg your undivided attention, none the less, that you may note the bearing of this recital not on a problem presented, as then, but on a decision made, as now. I entered the Unitarian ministry in the year 1904, [5] under the influence of motives not unfamiliar. In the first place, I saw the pulpit. I went into the ministry for the same primary reason which has held me there through all these years gone by--a desire to preach. I think I can say, in no spirit of boasting, that from my earliest days I have had an intense interest in the problem of truth, and a passion to interpret and defend by the spoken word, the truth as I saw it, to other men. It is just this passion, I suppose, which makes the preacher, as distinguished from the poet or the scientist. So Phillip Brooks would seem to suggest in his famous dictum, that preaching is "Truth (conveyed) through Personality." Furthermore, the truth which I desired to expound was theological in its nature. My whole approach to the problem was along the lines of speculation in the field of religious, as distinguished from political or social, thought. God, the soul, immortality, the origin and destiny of man, sin and salvation--these were the questions that held me, even as a boy, partly, I suppose, because of native inclination, partly because of careful training in a Unitarian home and church, mostly I am convinced because I early came under the spell of that prince of liberal preachers, Dr. Minot J. Savage. To do what Dr. Savage was doing each Sunday, preaching to eager throngs the great truths of the Unitarian gospel--this became the consuming ambition of my life. I wanted to stand in a pulpit and preach. I decided to do so; and if judgment in such a question can be based on experiences of inward joy, I am ready to testify that my decision was not unwise. I entered the church, therefore, primarily because it had a pulpit. But other reasons, not so decisive, and yet impressive, persuaded me to this same end. Thus I saw in the church not only a pulpit but an altar. Indeed, the pulpit distinguished itself in my mind from a platform or a teacher's desk, by the fact that it was always associated with the presence, visible and invisible, of an altar for divine worship. It was easy for me to picture myself as saying all I wanted to say in [6] college halls, in theater meetings, in public forums, but I craved for my work on behalf of truth the atmosphere and environment of spiritual devotion. It was my desire, in other words, to be not merely a teacher or speaker, but a preacher; not merely a prophet, but also a priest. This does not mean that I am a churchman, as such; or that I find any permanent significance in rituals or other forms of worship. But there is in me that which seeks the stimulus of praise and prayer, the uplift of conscious communion with the Eternal, the consolation of appeal to, and trust in, God. Not only from habit, but from temperament, I find myself at home amid religious rites. Nothing so moved me on my one trip to Europe, as the hours I spent under the shadows of the great cathedrals. As a quiet place of worship, as well as a high place of testimony, the church called me in those youthful years, and I gave answer. A third motive for my choice of the ministry must not be forgotten. I refer to the appeal of the church as a place for action, a service station on behalf of public causes. My vision of what we mean by public causes was strangely limited. It scarcely went beyond the Unitarian denomination, and the works of charity and kindly reform with which it has always been identified. I was a passionate Unitarian in those days. I had read, and been deeply stirred by, the story of the achievements which Unitarianism had wrought on behalf of freedom, fellowship and character in religion. I reverenced its saints and prophets, and longed to follow in their train. Hence the eagerness with which I sought preparation for the Unitarian ministry--that I might serve the church--advance its glory and magnify its work. It was with such ideas as these in my heart that I was ordained in February, 1904. Within two years there came an event which shook my life to its foundations, revolutionized my thought, and changed the whole character of my interest and work. I refer to what we have [7] learned to describe in our time as the social question. This question, of course, is nothing new. It has burned at the heart of life from the beginning, and at intervals has flamed forth like the eruption of a volcano, to the terror and glory of the world. Its latest phase, as we know it today in the religious field, made its appearance at about the time I entered the ministry. I recall that the book, which first revealed the fires so soon to burst upon us--Prof. Peabody's "Jesus Christ and the Social Question "--was published in 1903, the year before my ordination. I was not unprepared for what was coming. My deep-rooted reverence for Theodore Parker, the supreme prophet of applied Christianity in our time, and my enthusiastic study of his life, had revealed to me the meaning of socialized religion. But I had caught only the pure essence of its spirit; I had not thought to apply it to the social problems of today. Indeed, I was not aware of the existence of such problems. My whole approach to the question of truth and experience up to that time, had been along the lines of speculation in the field of theological, as contrasted with political or social, thought. In the second year of my ministry, however, I read Henry George's "Progress and Poverty"; then followed the writings of Henry D. Lloyd and Prof. Walter Rauschenbusch; then came the deep and prolonged plunge into the waters of socialism. For several years after I came to this church, I was in a state of intellectual and emotional upheaval impossible for me to describe. At last came a conviction which was a complete reversal of all my former ideas. I was as a man converted; I was as one who had seen a great light. Henceforth I was a social radical; and religion, pre-eminently not a testimony to theological truth but a crusade for social change. Of course, my interest in theology has persisted; but its place in my life has tended to become ever more subordinate to other and more directly practical interests. You know how the character of my preaching has changed since I first entered the Messiah pulpit. You know with what [8] waxing intensity of expression I have moved to the left of our various divisions on the social question. You do not know, hence I must tell you, how this intensity of radical conviction is destined to continue in the years that are now before us. For the war has accelerated the social crisis beyond all forecasting. In two years has transpired what fifty years could not have consummated under more normal conditions. Three great empires--Russia, Germany, Austria--and several newborn countries, like that of the Czecho-Slovaks, have been captured by the Socialists; and the British Empire seems promised to the British Labor Party in not more than another decade or two. The social revolution long prophesied, long hoped for, long feared, is here; and this means in countries like our own, still untouched by change, such a "sturm and drang periode," as makes even the Great War pale into insignificance. Now in these years which are before us, I propose to speak and serve for the speediest and most thoroughgoing social reconstruction. I am committed both by conviction and temperament to the program of the British Labor Party and its policy of indirect or political action for the advancement of that program. This is my predominant interest at this moment, and through what is destined I suppose to be the whole period of my life. This is as much the cause of our day as abolition was the cause of the days before the Civil War. To this I have given all I have--from this I intend to withdraw nothing that I have given. Not in any sense of bitterness or violence in method, but in every sense of utter change as the end desired, I am committed to the ideal of the complete democratization of society. When the significance of this transformation first broke upon me, I felt an impulse to leave the church, and attach myself directly to the labor movement. I recall how my soul leapt in answer to the great scene at the close of Kennedy's "The Servant in the House," when the Vicar strips off his clerical garb, seizes the dirty hand of his brother, the Drain-Man, and cries out, [9] "This is no priest's work--it calls for a man!" I was deterred, however, not, I hope, by cowardice but by wisdom. On the surface I felt that I should miss the services of the church--the prayers and worship with my people. Deeper down, and nearer the heart of things, was an unshaken trust in the church as a social institution. I loved her traditions, reverenced her saints and prophets, believed in her destiny--was unconvinced that she must necessarily serve the interests of reaction. At-bottom, was a perfectly clear understanding that my approach to the social question was a spiritual approach, and my acceptance of it the acceptance of a religious task. I saw my new position as nothing more nor less than the logic of Christianity. Men must be free from all oppression, because they are children of God, and therefore living souls. They must be equal in opportunity and privilege, because they are members of the holy family of God, and therefore brothers. They must be lifted up out of poverty, disease, war, because their heritage is the life of God, and they must have it abundantly. The material aspects of the social question, I would be among the last, I trust, to ignore. These are central--but central only as the fetters are central to the problem of slavery. Furthermore, the means which I recognized to the great end, were also spiritual. I could find no place in my thought for the use of violence. The plea of class-conscious rebellion never won my acceptance. Only patience, persuasion, and much love for humankind, seemed to me legitimate weapons of reform. In other words, I was again a victim of the logic of Christianity. And where did this logic hold me, if not to the church? Where could I make plain my spiritual position, or bring to bear my spiritual influence, apart from the church? If this institution must hold me altogether aloof from the social question, then of course my duty was manifest. But its pulpit was wide open to social preaching; its altar a chosen place for social consecration; and its machinery of service all at hand to be shifted from the gear of [10] charity to the gear of justice. Why not stay, therefore, in the church, as Theodore Parker stayed, and fight capitalism, as he fought slavery, in the garb of a minister of Christ? Decision on this point came fairly early, and it was favorable to the church. Strangely enough, however, it brought me little peace and surety in my church relations. Outside, in the denomination at large, I found myself in almost constant conflict with my fellows. There were few meetings or conferences in which I did not speak in protest and vote with minorities. Here in the Messiah parish there was no trouble, thanks to your forbearance, friendship, and scrupulous loyalty to freedom; but almost from the beginning there was uncertainty, wonderment, at times unrest, on the part of those longest associated with this society; and the records show a melancholy tale of withdrawals of those, not unable to endure differences of opinion, but impelled to turn away when the institution, long precious in their sight, no longer presented the recognizable attributes of a Unitarian church. That my own shortcomings as a man and a minister were responsible for much of this disturbance inside and outside the parish, I have no doubt. But as I look back over the years, I also have no doubt that there was something much more fundamental here, at the heart of the trouble. That I was a heretic on the social question was insignificant, for Unitarians have long since learned not only to tolerate but to respect their heretics. What was infinitely more important, as I now see, was the fact that unconsciously through these years, I was coming to question not the church itself, as I have explained, but the whole order and purpose of the church as it now exists. Every ecclesiastical institution today is denominational in character. It belongs primarily to some particular sectarian body, and is pledged to the service of this body. Sometimes the central body is narrow, as in the case of the more orthodox Protestant denominations; sometimes it is liberal, as in the case of the Unitarians and Universalists. [11] But always there is a distinctive form of organization, or type of ritual, or doctrine of belief, or spirit of association, which binds these separate churches into a single group; and always this distinctive feature is something which had its origin, and still finds its vitality, in the thought and experience of an earlier age. Every one of our denominations, and every one of the churches in our denominations, is representative of past controversies, not of present interests and duties. No one sect can be distinguished from any other, except by a reference to the text books of Christian history. Now with the intrusion of the social question into religion, a new concept of church organization came immediately to the fore. The unit of fellowship was now no longer the denomination, but the community. The centre of life and allegiance was no longer the challenge of ancient controversy, but the cry of present day human need. The more I became interested in questions of social change, the less I was concerned with questions of denominational welfare. The more I became absorbed in the people of New York City, the closer became my fellowship with other ministers similarly absorbed, and the remoter my fellowship with those who were bound to me only by the accident of the Unitarian tradition. More and more my hand and heart went out directly to men who saw and labored for the better day of which I dreamed; and only indirectly to those with whom I was appointed to serve, but who could not or would not catch the vision of my dreams. An irreconcilable conflict was here being joined--the old, old conflict between a dead and a living fellowship. It was my intuitive, although unconscious knowledge of this fact, which made me a rebel in every Unitarian gathering of the last ten years. It was a similarly unconscious instinct of self-preservation which taught my Unitarian brethren, to whom the old association was still central, to resent the things I sought. We had been born together, and we lived together; our past and our present were joint possessions. But when we faced the future, we divided; my [12] colleagues, many of them, were content with old, familiar ways, while I sought new associations. What was dimly felt in those days, was suddenly transformed into something clearly seen by the impact of the Great War. If this stupendous conflict has revealed anything in religion, it is that the sectarian divisions of Christendom are no longer to be tolerated. In the fusing fires of battle, Presbyterian, Methodist, Episcopalian, Unitarian, even Catholic, Protestant and Jew, have been melted, and now flow in a single flaming stream into the mould which shall fashion them into a single casting. Man after man has returned from the front, to tell us that the denominational church is dead. A new ordering of Christendom is at hand. The unit of organization will be not the one belief, nor even the one spirit, but the one field of service. Not the sect, but the community, will be the nucleus of integration. We will have groupings not of Methodist churches, and Baptist churches, and Unitarian churches, to remind the world of ancient differences, but of New York churches, and Boston churches, and San Francisco churches, to teach the world of present needs and future hopes. Our churches will be related as the wards in a city are related, or the cities in a state, or the states in the nation. We shall be all Christians together, as we are all Americans together. We shall have different religious ideas as we have different political ideas. But we shall be organized religiously, as well as politically, in a single community. Our churches, like our schools, will be the possession, and the resort, of all! This vision of the church as a community, or civic centre, is the logical application of socialized religion. It is no accident that together these two things have captured my life. For a moment, just as the idea of the social question set me thinking of leaving the church altogether, so this idea of the community church set me thinking of leaving this church and organizing in this city an independent religious movement. Indeed, this latter thought has been something more than a [13] momentary temptation. To have a church has been with me from the beginning a necessity. To have a church of the new community order has become a great desire. Last spring I seriously considered presenting to you my resignation, that I might enter upon the fulfillment of this hope. Last summer I pretty definitely made up my mind to lay this problem and prospect before you, as soon as peace should come, and the distractions of war be gone. Then, at the very moment when peace came, as though to anticipate and thus forestall my decision, there came the call from Chicago. Most of you know what Abraham Lincoln Centre is, and many of you by what pioneer devotion this church of the future was fashioned out of a traditional church of the past. It is not perfect; in some ways it is already itself became traditional again. But it stands today as a more complete embodiment of what I feel a modern church should be than any other institution of which I know in America. The invitation from the people seemed to me an instant bestowal of all for which I seek. I do not think I could have resisted this call to service, had it not been for your rightful claims of loyalty and affection, and my own reluctance to abandon the project of accomplishing my desires in New York. These considerations made me hesitate--and while I hesitated, I thought. Why should I turn elsewhere for the fulfillment of hopes which may be as surely if not as swiftly realized here? Why should I undertake to build an independent church in this city, or accept the leadership of a church however remarkably developed in Chicago, when the Church of the Messiah, pledged to freedom, and long committed to the idea of progress, lies ready to my hand? Why should I seek the easy inheritance of another man's completed work, and thus avoid the hard labor of building an institution of my own, which, for that reason alone, would be moulded nearer to my heart's desire? Above all, why should I assume that my people who have loved and sustained me these dozen years, are unwilling to move on with me in comradeship [14] to the new pathways of the new world which we have entered, or by what right make decision involving my future ministry here or elsewhere, without taking them fully into my confidence and searching the utmost temper of their minds? These were the questions which came to me promptly on the receipt of the Chicago call. Should I undertake to organize an independent church in New York, should I go to Chicago as minister of All Souls' Church and Director of Abraham Lincoln Centre, should I stay here as minister of this Church of the Messiah--this was my problem. I could not solve it, with fairness to myself or to you, until you had spoken. Hence, the meeting of last Monday night, called by the helpful co-operation of the Board of Trustees, and attended largely by our people. In addressing this meeting, I stated in some detail the future conditions of church work which I proposed to establish or to find. I had intended originally not to make these public, at least all at once; but rumor has been busy, and exact information, for purposes of correction, if nothing more, has now become essential. First of all, therefore, may I say that I made announcement to this meeting, as I would now make announcement to you, that I have left, or am planning to leave, the Unitarian denomination, and propose not much longer to be known specifically as a Unitarian minister. The reasons for this change in my life, I shall make plain at another time; this morning I content myself with stating the fact. Almost a year ago I resigned the office of vice-president of the Middle States Conference of Unitarian churches, which have held ever since I came to New York. Two months ago, I resigned from the Council of the Unitarian General Conference. Two weeks ago, I resigned my life-membership in the American Unitarian Association. Next May, when the new list is made up, I expect to withdraw my name from the official roll of Unitarian clergymen, and thus sever the last strand which holds me to the Unitarian body. Of course, I shall join no other denomination, and in [15] this sense shall be independent. But to me this action means not isolation, but entrance into that larger fellowship which I so long to share. No barrier will then separate me from those Episcopalians and Baptists and Methodists and other men, who are my real spiritual brethren. I shall be at one with all men everywhere--at home with the family of mankind. I shall not so much cease to be a Unitarian, as to become a Christian. This matter is of course personal; and it thus affected only incidentally the problem which was before our meeting last Monday night. It is easy to find precedent for the occupancy of a Unitarian pulpit by a minister not a Unitarian. At the time of the famous Year-Book controversy, Mr. Potter of New Bedford, Mass., and several of his colleagues, withdrew from the Unitarian body, but continued to hold their Unitarian pulpits. The latest instance of which I chance to know was called to my attention by the death last week of Prof. George A. Foster, of Chicago University. Dr. Foster was born, bred and ordained a Baptist; and yet last year was called to fill the pulpit of the First Unitarian Church church in Madison, Wisconsin; and died in the service of this church, a Baptist. Even in orthodox churches, the denominational tag is losing its significance. Thus, when the City Temple London, the most famous Congregational church in the world, sought a successor to Dr. Campbell, it chose Dr. Joseph Fort Newton, of Iowa, a Universalist. We are getting sensible enough these days to recognize that the essential thing even about a minister is not his name but his manhood. Nevertheless, my contemplated change in denominational status might well be regarded as a part of the whole problem before us, and I therefore made careful mention of it last Monday night. Secondly, and more important, I stated my desire that the church which I should serve tomorrow, might itself be undenominational, at last to the degree implied by my conception of what I have called the community church. By this I meant that the church should proclaim [16] as its primary interest and aim identification with, and service of, the people of its community, to the subordination, and, if necessary, the ending of its connection with persons of various and scattered communities who have no other bond of union than that of a single denominational inheritance. Was I wrong when I ventured the assertion at the meeting of our Society, that in this church we have already moved far in this direction? Unconsciously, in the last dozen years, it seems to me, we have been moving out of the denomination, into the community. Nearly every interest in this parish is a community and not a denominational interest. Our natural affiliations as a church in this city have not been so much with churches of our own denomination, as with churches of various denominations distinguished like ourselves as predominantly civic, or community, institutions. This congregation is an independent congregation. If the Unitarian name adheres to it at all, it is to the embarrassment of those whose Unitarianism is their pride, and to the confusion of those who, not Unitarians either by birth or conviction, desire to join us in spirit and active work. For years, like "the chambered nautilus," we have been outgrowing our denominational shell, and seeking "more stately mansions." Is it not time, now, that we left this "outgrown shell," and became at last the full and free community institution of which I speak? Should we not at least clear ourselves of ancient entanglements to such degree that we may invite people openly and honestly to come into our portals not because they want to profess themselves Unitarians, but because they want to confess themselves lovers and servants of mankind? Again, I stated at last Monday's meeting my desire that the church which I shall serve tomorrow, may have a name which means something in the language and thought of our time. The application of this principle to our church is obvious. The name, Church of the Messiah, is precious to many of us, because it awakens memories and revives tender associations. But a name [17] is important not from the standpoint of those who know what it means, or ought to mean, but of those who do not know. The name of a church, like that of a business, is an advertisement. It is a symbol, a slogan, a banner. It should tell at once to everybody what is behind it, what it stands for; and this is exactly what our name does not do, except to the initiate. Dr. Savage tried to save the situation by associating with the name, Lowell's familiar line, "some great cause, God's new Messiah." I have tried to breathe the breath of life into the corpse, by attaching it deliberately to our various activities--as the Messiah Forum, the Messiah Social Service League, etc. But all in vain! Our name suggests a hope of ancient Judaism, a period of Unitarian history, a habit of Episcopalian nomenclature--and that is all! It should be changed, to give some adequate expression of our ideals. The City Church, the People's Church, the Community Church, the Church of the People, the Church of the New Democracy, the Fellowship, the Free Fellowship, the Fellowship of Social Idealism, the Fellowship of the Kingdom, the Fellowship of Spiritual Democracy, the Liberal Centre, the Community Centre,--think of what we might call ourselves, if we but had the courage. And after all, what courage would it take, save that long since displayed by our fathers in this church? How many of you know that for fourteen years, this church was known simply as the Second Congregational Unitarian Society of New York. Then in 1839, because the name Unitarian was open to serious misconstruction, this name, except in its strictly legal uses, was dropped, and the highly orthodox name we now bear, was substituted. I stated at our meeting that if I should remain as your minister, I should hope that this church might similarly baptize itself afresh in the language of our own time, and in the spirit of our own life! Again, at this meeting on Monday last, I stated that a modern church should have free pews. This statement needs no definition or argument. The system of pew [18] rentals is an abomination, already abolished in countless churches more orthodox than our own, and a scandal in any church claiming to be liberal or democratic. Lastly, I stated my desire that my church should have a non-covenanted membership. On the side of organization, this means of course that we make our church and society a single body, and thus abolish the present system of two unrelated groups, the one business and the other spiritual in character. On the side of religion, it means that we abandon the idea of an inner group of members, who have reached some spiritual eminence not attained by others. Of course, in our body, this sanctification aspect of church membership has disappeared from our apprehension. But if this is the case, why should we retain the form? What is essential is organization and fellowship on the basis of simple brotherhood. Here we are, comrades together, worshipping and working to the great end of a better world. We must be bound together in some way, for we must be an enlisted body, not a mob of unrelated individuals. But let it be a Roll-Call to Service--a joining of the church as of the Red Cross for the love of mankind. In spirit, our membership is already this; but its form is not so much an embodiment of the new democracy of the saviors as an echo of the old aristocracy of the saved. It was with these five points that I confronted the members of this Society last Monday evening. I stated them much as I have stated them this morning, and then asked not that action be taken, but that sentiment be expressed. Since that time, I have been assiduously collecting information of what took place. Official report of action taken, of votes passed, has been laid upon my desk. Friends have written or spoken to me their impressions of the gathering. I have myself canvassed the members of the Board of Trustees, and have received replies to my questions which show such high endeavor to convey accurate information and sound advice, quite apart from personal opinion on most points, as does [19] abounding honor to the persons concerned. From what has thus come to me, I deduce three facts about this meeting. First, that the members of this church were willing to face without revolt or rebuke, questions which more often than not in the past have been the occasion of unseemly quarrel and unholy schism. Secondly, that the consideration of these questions was carried on for two hours without bitterness of spirit as between the members of the church, or as between these members and the absent minister. Lastly, that there is a large working majority in this church who desire the things that I desire. Taking these facts into my own soul, which must be the last court of decision, after all, I have become convinced that I am confronted here by a situation which I can neither ignore nor evade. My challenge to you has been answered by a challenge to myself. To refuse this challenge, is impossible. To leave this fruitage of my twelve years of plowing and planting unharvested, and thus to wither and be scattered, would be a crime. I have therefore declined the call to Chicago, and will remain here as your minister! To this announcement of my decision in this case, may I make, in closing, some two or three supplementary remarks? In the first place, for the benefit of such rasher or more enthusiastic spirits as may be present in this place, I would state that I have no intention of abusing the confidence thus reposed in me, or the power thus granted me, by demanding immediate and final action on all the points of my program. We are members here not of a political caucus, but of a church; and it behooves us, therefore, to observe even the uttermost refinements of good-will and mutual consideration. We must respect with scrupulous fidelity the rights of each, and seek nothing that falls short of the happiness of all. Determination must now yield place to patience, and courage to sympathy. Conversion and not conquest is our method. I had rather wait years to gain my point with the consent of every heart, than carry off the victory [20] tomorrow with some hearts broken and thrown away. I have a perfect faith in the power of persuasion--an unshaken confidence in the ultimate supremacy of love; and am quite willing to leave to these mystic forces the determination of the time, the method and the ultimate form of our accomplishment. On the other hand, lest there be those who think that deeds are not to follow upon words, may I state that I take up my ministry in this church afresh today with the conviction that I am committed to a program, and you committed to its decent and friendly consideration. Nay more, I am persuaded that we are ready for unanimous action on some points. At the regular annual meeting of this Society, on Monday, January 13, I hope, and have every reason to expect that a resolution will be introduced, providing for the abolition of the pew rental system of financial support, and the establishment of the principle of free pews. I shall recommend that certain methods be employed for the affecting of this great change: (1) that all present pew-holders be invited to surrender their sittings and to pay to the treasurer in the form of subscription what they now pay in form of rent; (2) that those who may be for any reason unwilling to make this change, be protected in their rights and be guaranteed their sittings, so long as they may desire this arrangement; (3) that all new-comers be invited to support the church by subscription payments only, and no pews or sittings be rented anew under any consideration after a certain date. By some such procedure as this we shall gain our end, protect our present income, and impose compulsion upon no single individual. Secondly, it is my hope, and expectation, that at this annual meeting next week, the problem of our name as a church will be taken up. I shall recommend that a committee be appointed to consider a new name for the Church of the Messiah, and to report back to a special meeting of the Society perhaps in the early spring, their recommendation on this point. As regards the problem of non-covenanted membership [21] I propose to recommend that this matter be promptly referred to the Advisory Board for study; that this body, in turn, report its findings to the Board of Trustees for similar study; and that this Board, at such time, and in such way, as it and the ministers may deem proper, bring the matter before the Society for action. This question is complicated, and poorly understood. We shall want to examine the experience and precedent of other denominational bodies, and of such independent religious organizations as the Ethical Culture Society and the Free Synagogue. We must find, or create, a system of membership which shall accurately and fully represent the spiritual idealism of this church, as well as practical utility, at its best; and this is a task calling at this moment not for action but for meditation. There is left the most important of all questions which I have raised--the continued connection of this church with the Unitarian denomination. It is to me an occasion for surprise that some of you should have imagined that I was desiring, or expecting, action on this matter last Monday night. I have been still more astonished to hear, during the week, that some of you suspect or infer that a decision on my part to remain will involve an immediate intention to proceed to the capture of the church for purposes not disclosed. On Monday night I gave expression to a conviction and a hope, and asked you to register opinion thereupon. Beyond that I would not go, and could not if I would. Those of you who have been Unitarians for years, are Unitarians today, and desire to remain Unitarians, must be protected in your rights. The indebtedness of this church to the many in generations gone who have served it for the sake and in the name of Unitarianism, must not be repudiated. Moral obligation as well as legal necessity may make it impossible for this church to sever connection with the body of its origin. Above all, I am insistent that there shall be no quarrel or schism on this issue. There may be place here for change by evolution, but never by violence. No faction must presume to dictate what may [22] come beneficently by consent alone. What I did on Monday last was to plant in your minds the seed which found lodgement years ago in mine. What I shall now do is to wait the germination of that seed through a period of years which may be less, and may well be more, than I endured. And I do this with the more content and confidence, that I have little doubt as to what the result will be. I have not lived with you all these years gone by, without learning the openness of your minds, the instinctive passion of your souls for right, the quickness of your sensibilities to all sweet influences of progress and good-will. If there be truth in my conviction for change, it will in time be your conviction, as it is mine. If this be "The freer step, the fuller breath, The wide horizons grander view," then it will inevitably work enchantment in your hearts as it has in mine. And if not, then shall I trust those sweeping tides of change which are now engulfing all the world and destined so soon, to obliterate the barriers of denomination, so that this issue between us must vanish for good and all. And in any case, we may ever have the task of making our Unitarianism in this place of so new and wonderful a character that this body to which we are bound, may itself become transfigured by the service we perform for God and man. I am quite content, therefore, to postpone this question for an indefinite period. By the inward consent of converted minds, or the outward logic of inexorable events, this problem will be settled in due time, and with perfect amity and concord. Lastly, may I congratulate you, as I am congratulating myself, on the high adventure of the spirit which we undertake this day; and appeal, without apology, in frankness unashamed, for your support in this endeavor? I call to my people in this church, to join their hands and hearts in this great enterprise of faith. Not to divide, but to unite you, am I speaking: for it is the challenge of high aim and struggle which alone can hold [23] us to accord. I call as well to people outside this church--strangers and friends alike, who have turned from the churches of the past, but, still devout in expectancy and love, have waited long for the new church of the morrow. Our vision may be dim, our purpose weak; but we are trying for something higher and better than man has ever known--and we need the help that you can give. We need your money--bills cannot be paid without it. We need your names--a body cannot exist and labor without members. We need your love--our hearts must falter if we have it not. To all who hear these words I speak, to all who read them when they are printed, to all whom rumor may inform and question, I cry out, Come! To go on alone, were not so hard. I can do it, if it be necessary. The blazed trail, as well as the broad avenue, knows the footsteps of the Lord. The wilderness and the solitary place, as well as the crowded city, is the abode of God. But better than loneliness is comradeship. The explorer may see from afar the Promised Land, the pioneer may spy it out, but it is the marching host that enters to conquer and possess. To you all, therefore, I lift my cry "We have chosen our path-- Path to a clear-purposed goal, Path of advance!--but it leads A long steep journey, through sunk Gorges, o'er mountains of snow. . . . Fill up the gaps in our files, Strengthen our wavering line, Stablish, continue our march, On to the bound of the waste, On, to the city of God." [24] 
15031	----	SERMONS ON VARIOUS IMPORTANT SUBJECTS: WRITTEN PARTLY ON SUNDRY OF THE MORE DIFFICULT PASSAGES IN THE SACRED VOLUME. By Rev. ANDREW LEE, A.M. INTRODUCTION This text has been transcribed from the original by Fredric Lozo, Mathis, Texas, January 2005. The original text was typeset using the convention of the American Colonial Period with a second "s" symbol resembling the letter "f" which makes reading somewhat difficult for the modern reader. The text was thus transcribed using the modern single "s" symbol convention. The original text was photographed and read with an OCR program and then transcribed word by word. An attempt was made to proofread the final text for transcription errors and wherever an mistake has not been corrected, the transcriber sincerely apologizes to the reader. As for the rest, the transcriber has endeavored to faithfully maintain as much of the historical record as the ASCII TEXT format permits, including the original spelling and grammar. Page numbering was omitted in keeping with e-book format conventions. The reader is encouraged to use the search feature of the text reader to locate chapters listed on the contents page. The work was published by the son of Isaiah Thomas, who is known both as the father of American printing, and as a Minuteman at Lexington and Concord in the War of Independence. Some of the thoughts expressed in these sermons are a refreshing return to an earlier time before American religious denominations became fixed in their particular "systematic theology." Reverend Lee's language and logic give us a glimpse of the purity of mind and soul that followed in the wake of desperate revolutionary conflict and the tumultuous years following independence when the greatest minds of the time formulated the American Constitution and The Bill of Rights. These sermons seem to address the universal issues with which men of all times and places have also struggled, in times of peace as well as war. These issues are articulated here with a clarity that is perhaps only achieved in those times of great testing, tears, and tenuous victory that began in 1776 and that would remain tenuous until after the War of 1812. Lee lived in a time of great intellectual pursuit and Lee's views of life and the Lord's Providence seem particularly blessed with illumination through the Holy Spirit. Fredric Lozo, January, 2005 SERMONS ON VARIOUS IMPORTANT SUBJECTS: WRITTEN PARTLY ON SUNDRY OF THE MORE DIFFICULT PASSAGES IN THE SACRED VOLUME. By Rev. ANDREW LEE, A.M. Pastor of the North Church in Lisbon, Connecticut. Printed at Worcester: By Isaiah Thomas, Jun. Sold by him, and by the AUTHOR, in Lisbon, Connecticut-Sold also by said Thomas & Whipple, at their Bookstore in Newburyport. October----1803 "I KNOW BUT ONE BOOK, THAT CAN JUSTIFY OUR IMPLICIT ACQUIESCENCE IN IT; AND ON THAT BOOK, A NOBLE DISDAIN OF UNDUE DEFERANCE TO PRIOR OPINION--CASTS NEW AND INESTIMABLE LIGHT."--Young. PREFACE That thick darkness overspread the church after the irruptions of the northern barbarians, and the desolations which they occasioned in the Roman empire, is known and acknowledged. Those conquerors professed the religion of the conquered; but corrupted and spoiled it. Like the new settlers in the kingdom of Ephraim, they feared the Lord and served their own gods. In those corruptions antichristian error and domination originated. The tyranny of opinion became terrible, and long held human minds enslaved. Few had sentiments of their own. The orders of the vatican were received as the mandates of heaven. But at last some discerning and intrepid mortals arose who saw the absurdity and impiety of the reigning superstition, and dared to disclose them to a wondering world! Among those bold reformers, LUTHER, CALVIN, and a few contemporary worthies, hold a distinguished rank. Greatly is the church indebted to them for the light which they diffused, and the reformation which they effected. But still the light was imperfect. Dark shades remained. This particularly appeared in the dogmatism and bigotry of these same reformers, who often prohibited further inquiries, or emendations! They had differed from Rome, but no body must differ from them! As though the infallibility which they denied to another, had been transferred to themselves! Too many others, and in more enlightened times, have discovered a strand measure of the same spirit.....a spirit which hath damped inquiry and prevented improvement. Hence, probably, the silence of some expositors on difficult scriptures, and the sameness observable in some others. For the complaint of the poet is not without reason, "That commentators each dark passage shun, and hold their farthing candle to the fun." And the sameness which we see in several writers is probably dictated by fear of singularity, and of incurring the charge of heresy. Minds are different. When a dozen expositors interpret a difficult text alike, they must, for some reason, have borrowed from one another. The writer of the following pages claims no superiority to others, either in genius or learning; but he claims a right to judge for himself in matters of faith, and sense of scripture, and presumes to exercise it--calling no man master. He hath found the original scriptures, compared with the different translations, to be the best exposition. To these he early had recourse, and in this way formed an opinion of the meaning of sundry difficult passages in the volume of truth. But comparing them afterwards with several expositions, perceived their meaning to have been mistaken, either by those writers, or by himself. As they did not convince him that his constructions were erroneous, he now offers them to the public--Not as certainly devoid of error--He knows himself to be fallible--but as the result of some attention; and as that which he conceives their most probable meaning. On the prayer of Moses to be blotted out of God's book--the wish of Paul to be accused from Christ, and the prevalence of infidelity before the coming of the Son of Man, he published a summary of his views, some years ago. By the advice of several respected literary friends, they are now corrected, enlarged and inserted. On the last of these he wrote A.D. 1785. Subsequent events tend to confirm him in the sentiments then entertained. Expositors generally consider the prayer of Moses and the wish of St. Paul to stand related as expressions of the same temper, and argue from the one to the other. The author conceives them perfectly foreign to each other, and totally mistaken by every expositor he hath consulted; as also several of the other scriptures on which he hath written. A hint dropped, some years ago, in conversation, by a respected father,* gave an opening to the writer, relative to one+ of the following subjects, and occasioned his writing upon it. For the rest, he is conscious of having borrowed from no writer, except a few quotations, which are credited in their places. He doth not flatter himself that his co constructions of scripture will be universally received. Nor hath he a desire to dictate to others, or a wish that his own views only should see the light. The press is open to those who are otherwise minded. The author will read with pleasure, the different constructions of the candid and ingenuous. But should strictures of another description appear, they will be viewed with indifference, and treated with neglect. * Rev. Dr. Cogswell, of Windham + On 2 Samuel xii. 13. CONTENTS SERMON I. The Wisdom of God in the Means used to Propagate the Gospel. 1 Cor. i. 27, 28.--"But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise," &c. SERMON II. The Subject Continued. SERMON III. The Declensions of Christianity an argument of its truth. Luke xviii. 8.--"When the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth?" SERMON IV. The Subject Continued. SERMON V. Abram's Horror of Great Darkness. Gen. xv. 12.--"And when the sun was going down a deep sleep fell upon Abram," &c. SERMON VI. Divine Impartiality Considered. Rom. ii. 11.--"For there is no respect of persons with God." SERMON VII. Moses' Prayer to be Blotted out of God's Book. Exod. xxxii. 31,32.--"And Moses returned unto the Lord, and said, 'Oh! This people have sinned,'" &c. SERMON VIII. The Same Subject Continued. SERMON IX. St. Paul's wish to be Accused from Christ. Rom. ix. 3.--"For I could with that myself were accursed from Christ," &c. SERMON X. David's Sin in the Matter of Uriah. 2 Sam. xii. 13.--"And David said unto Nathan, 'I have sinned against the Lord,'" &c. SERMON XI. The General Character of Christians. Gal. v. 24.--"And they that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with its affections," &c. SERMON XII. The Aggravated Guilt of him who delivered Christ to Pilate. John xix. 10, 11.--"Then saith Pilate unto him, 'Speakest thou not unto me?'" &c. SERMON XIII. The Trial of Peter's Love to Christ. John xxi. 15, 16, 17.--"So when they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, 'Simon,'" &c. SERMON XIV. Gifts no Certain Evidence of Grace. Luke x. 20.--"In this rejoice not that the spirits are subject unto you, but," &c. SERMON XV. Human Characters Determined only by Divine Decision 1 Cor. iv. 3, 4.--"But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you," &c. SERMON XVI. Characters will be Disclosed and Justice Awarded. 1 Cor. iv. 5.--"Judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who both will bring," &c. SERMON XVII. God Willing that all Men should be Saved. 1 Tim. ii. 4.--"Who will have all men to be saved." SERMON XVIII. Balak's Inquiries relative to the Service of God, and Balaam's answer briefly considered. Micah vi. 6,7,8.--"Wherewith shall I come before the Lord And bow myself before the high God?" &c. SERMON XIX. Confessing Christ an Indispensible Duty. 2 Tim ii. 12.--"If We deny him, he will deny us." SERMON XX. The Fear which terminates in the Second Death. Rev. xxi.8.--"The fearful--shall have their part in the lake, which burneth with fire," &c. SERMON XXI. The End of Family Institutions, with Observations on The Importance of Education. Mal ii. 15.--"And did he not make one? Yet had he the residue of the Spirit," &c. SERMON XXII. Parental Duties Considered and Urged--from the same text. SERMON XXIII. The Blessing of God on Filial Piety. Jer. xxxv. 19.--"Therefore thus saith the Lord--'Jonadab, the Son of Rechab shall not want a man,'" &c. SERMON XXIV. The Character and Supports of Widows Indeed. 2 Tim. v. 5.--"Now she that is a widow indeed and desolate, trusteth in God," &c. SERMON XXV. The Good Man Useful in Life and Happy in Death. Psalm xxxvii. 37.--"Mark the perfect man and behold the upright; for the end of that man is peace." SERMON XXVI. Departed Saints Fellow Servants with those on Earth. Rev. xxii. 9.--"I am thy fellow servant, and of thy brethren the prophets--." SERMON XXVII. The Subject Continued. SERMON XXVIII. The Dangers of Deviating from Divine Institutions. Col. ii. 8--"Beware lest any man spoil you through Philosophy and vain deceit," &c. SERMON XXIX. The Sins of Communities Noted and Punished. Mat. xxiii.36.--"Verily I say unto you, all these things shall come upon this generation." * * * * * SERMON I. The Wisdom of God in the means used to propagate the Gospel. 1 Corinthians i. 27, 28. "But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and god hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, and things which are not, to bring to nought things which are." * * The two discourses on this text were originally one, and preached before Windham Association, at Thompson, October Session, 1798. Probably some of the ideas which they contain, may have been suggested by reading Paley's Evidences of Christianity; but as the author had not that book in his possession when he wrote on this subject, he is not able particularly to give credit to that excellent writer, if here his due. The mercy promised to the fathers was Christ, the Savior. That "the desire of all nations should come," was a prediction of his incarnation; and his entrance here was announced by a heavenly messenger, with, "Behold, I bring you glad tidings of great joy--to all people." Yet "when he came to his own, his own received him not!" To many he hath been "a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense!" The design and tendency of Christianity are most benevolent; but being opposed to men's lusts, which rule in their members, all the malevolence of depravity hath been excited against it. Jews and Gentile united in the opposition. "The kings of the earth stood up and the rulers were gathered together against the Lord, and against his Christ--both Herod and Pontius Pilate, with the Gentiles, and the people of Israel." The Christian religion did not creep into the world in the dark. It first appeared at an enlightened period, and among the most enlightened of the nations. The sciences derived from conquered Greece, had been improved at Rome, and communicated to its dependencies. Syria was then a province of the Empire. Every movement in Judea was observed and reported at the metropolis. The crucifixion of our Savior was sanctioned by a Roman deputy; and the persecuted Christians were allowed an appeal to Caesar. Soon therefore, did the religion of Jesus make its way to Rome. The power of Rome had also reached its acme; and as the spirit of Christianity was diverse from that of the world, the learning and power of the Empire soon combined against it. That this religion would be crushed and vanish away as a dream of the night, was generally expected. Every circumstance seemed to indicate such an event. Those reputed wise, considered the gospel scheme as foolishness; and the instrument which were chosen to propagate it were thought to be weak and contemptible. It was also observed to spread chiefly among the lower order of men, who had not the advantages of literature, nor been initiated in the mysteries of Judaism, all which served to inspire its enemies with confidence, that it would soon come to nought. The apostle takes notice, in the context, of the contempt then so generally poured on Christianity, and declares the wisdom of God in the permission of it. He also predicts the triumph of the cross; especially over the powers then combined against it--predictions which afterwards fulfilled: For those powers were all subdued and humbled, and Christ and the gospel exalted. The Christian religion was openly professed, and became the most reputable religion in many countries; particularly in Syria and at Rome and its numerous provinces; and by the means then ordered of God. This is the spirit of the text--_God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak things of the world to confound the mighty, &c_. In discussing the subject, we shall _consider the means used to propagate the gospel--the opposition made against it--and the wisdom of God in the choice of the means_; which will bring up to view some of the objections which have been made against the truth of the gospel. In treating of the means used to propagate the gospel, we pass over the preaching and miracles of Christ, and the wonders which took place at his inexcuseable in neglecting so great salvation; but they preceded sending the gospel to the gentiles, and the means used to spread it among them. The apostle had no reference to Christ, or any thing done or suffered by him, when he spake of _the foolish and weak, and base things, used of God, to confound those which are wise and mighty_. He spake only with reference to the instruments which were chosen to carry the gospel abroad and persuade the nations of the earth to receive it. God hath all creatures at his command; he hath power to press the most reluctant into his service, and to compel them to bear his messages and execute his orders; as we see in the case of Balaam and Jonah. God can make use of man to this end, either by reconciling them to himself, and attaching them to his interest or by overruling their corrupt and vicious designs to effect his holy purposes, without their consent or knowledge. Most of the prophets were brought into his view, and made desirous to honor him. Many pagan princes, and others, who knew him not were yet made instrumental in doing his pleasure and executing his designs. The divine sovereign never wants for agents to accomplish his purposes. He sitteth on the circle of the heavens, and orders the affairs of the universe in such a manner as to do his pleasure. "None can stay his hand." Whether the agents which he employs are willing or unwilling, mean so, or not, is of no importance relative to the event. "His purposes stand, and the thoughts of His heart to all generations." The attempts of creatures to reverse his orders, and defeat his decree only help to their accomplishment. This was particularly the case respecting the measures adopted by the enemies of Christianity to prevent its spreading in the world. The persons chosen of God and sent forth to propagate the religion of Christ, were such as human wisdom would have judged very unsuitable. Twelve poor, despised, illiterate men, were called to be apostles; --most of them were fishermen. One was a publican; a collector of the Roman tribute, which had been imposed on the Jews as a conquered people. An employment so odious, that vile persons, regardless of character, would only accept it. Such men we should judge exceedingly unfit for ministers of religion, and not likely to succeed in making converts to it. Yet such were those who were appointed of God, to be prime ministers in the Christian church! Such the men who were sent forth to change the form and administration of Judaism, and overthrew the systems of Paganism, rendered venerable by a general establishment, and the religious reverence of ages. The Jews' religion was from God, who had given abundant evidence of its divine origin. This Christ came not to destroy. But its external administration was to be changed; and in apprehension of most of those who professed it, it was less opposed to the gospel scheme, than Paganism. No others had greater enmity to Christianity than the Jews, or entered into the opposition position with warmer zeal. They commonly stood foremost, and stirred up the Gentiles against it, and often with success. In treating of the means used to propagate the gospel. We may observe the powers imparted to those who were employed in the work. These Were not such as human wisdom would have chosen. "Their weapons were not carnal, though mighty through God." They had none at their command, prepared to punish those who would not receive them, or the doctrines which they inculcated--none to retaliate injuries done them. To abuse they had nothing to oppose, except a patient exhibition of his temper, who "when he was reviled, reviled not again, when he suffered threatened not, committing himself to him who judgeth righteously," and praying for his murderers on the cross. False religions have often been propagated with the sword --particularly that of Mahomet, and the Romish corruptions of Christianity. These, especially the latter, were urged with every species of cruelty--a mode of attempting to proselyte, evincive of human folly. Arguments totally diverse are requisite to enlighten the mind and produce conviction of a divine mission. With these came the apostles of the Lamb. They were "endowed with power from on high;" and forbidden of their Lord to enter on their ministry until it was conferred upon them. This was accomplished on the day of Pentecost. They had been previously convinced of Christ's truth. They seemed indeed to waver when he suffered, but his resurrection, the opportunities which they had with him after that event, and his ascension, which they had witnessed, must have removed every doubt. But this did not quality them for their work. It did not furnish them with means to convince others, who had not witnessed those things. But when the Holy Ghost came upon them, on that memorable occasion, they were furnished. The gift of miracles was then, more abundantly than before, imparted to them. In some respects, new and very necessary communications were then made to them--particularly that of speaking in tongues, which at once carried evidence of their divine mission, and enabled them to go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature. This was the order of their Lord, but devoid of this gift they could not have obeyed it. This gift, as imparted to them, seems to have carried greater evidence of their truth, than their barely speaking all languages. Men out of every nation heard them speak on the day of Pentecost, _every man in his own tongue_! Therefore were they amazed, and convinced that the apostles were sent of God and that the gospel was of heavenly derivation. Those heralds of gospel grace were also inspired with courage to speak boldly in the name and cause of Christ, nothing terrified by their enemies; and "when brought before kings and rulers for his sake, a mouth and wisdom were given them, which all their adversaries were unable to gainsay or resist." Such were the means used of God to propagate the gospel? such the agents whom he employed and such their qualifications. We are next to consider the opposition which was made to its propagation. Various circumstances combined the worlds against it. So far as Christianity prevailed, every other religion must fall. No other could stand in connexion with it. The Jewish was not to be overthrown; but such changes were to take place in its outward form, that those who did not know it to be typical of a better dispensation, considered it as included in the general proscription; as doomed to destruction if Christianity prevailed Against Stephen that was a principal charge --"We have heard him say, that this Jesus, shall change the customs which Moses hath delivered us." The different systems of Paganism were not opposed to one another, as they were to that of the gospel. They admitted a plurality of God --some superior? others subordinate. They considered them not only as holding different ranks, but as reigning over different countries and nations. If one of their systems was true another might be so. But Christianity admitted only "one God and one Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus." It declared that all others who had been called Gods and worshiped as such, were not Gods--that those who sacrificed to them, sacrificed to demons--and it denounced utter, eternal ruin against those who did not forsake them and acknowledge Jehovah. Those peculiarities, apart from the nature of this religion, which is opposed to the lusts of men which rule in their members, would, of course, unite the world against it. Those of every other religion would make a common interest in opposing this, which had fellow-ship with none of them, but tended to their entire subversion and utter ruin. And it is a fact, that the world did unite against the religion of Jesus, and against those whom he had appointed to inculcate it. Christianity then appeared devoid of support--the opposition to have everything on its side. Christ's followers were a little flock, destitute of power or learning, and in the world's view utterly contemptible. Rome, the mistress of the world, had reached the summit of her greatness; and she soon turned all her power against the feeble band, who were laboring to diffuse the knowledge of Christ. and calling men from dumb idols, to serve the living God. To the eye of man how unequal the conflict? Had not those followers of the Lamb been assured that their redeemer lived--that he was divine --that he was with them, and would be with them, they would have declined a contest with those before whom the world trembled. But they entered, un-dismayed on the work assigned them, went through With and completed it! They prospered in that to which they were sent. This had never been done had not God been with them; for none of the advantages possessed by their enemies were neglected. The first effects of enmity to Christianity were directed against Christ's person. He had been some time teaching and doing miracles in Judea, and numbers had attached themselves to him. They considered him as a prophet mighty in "word and deed." Some who witnessed his mighty works, exclaimed, "When Christ cometh will he do more miracles than this man hath done?" Others, "Is this not the Christ?" These movements among the Jews drew the attention of their rulers, and raised them to opposition. A humble, suffering Savior, did not suit their pride and lust of power. They looked for a temporal deliverer, who would lead them to victory, and subdue under them, the powers which held them in subjection. No other would they receive as the Messiah. As soon, therefore, as the fame of Jesus began to spread abroad, and numbers treated him with respect, they resolved to destroy him. At the feast of the passover, which called all the males of Israel to Jerusalem, they caused him to be apprehended--tried him their great council--condemned him to death, and importuned the Roman governor to sentence him to the cross, as a rebel against Caesar. The charge was not supported--Christ did not aspire to temporal dominion--"his kingdom was not of this world." The governor declared him not guilty. Had Christ, like the Arabian deceiver, which afterwards arose, assumed the sword, marked his way with blood and carnage, the Jews would have bid him welcome, and flocked to his standard. Then he might have been denominated a rebel against Caesar. But nothing of this nature was found upon him. Therefore were the Jews his enemies; but the imperial magistrate "found no fault in him;" though persuaded to consent to his death. But though such were the temper and views of the Romans respecting Christ, at the time of his sufferings, they were different when his ministers went forth to set up his religion. When the nature of Christianity was discovered, and it appeared opposed to Paganism, and tending to its destruction, the Roman chieftains, who had been taught to venerate their Gods, and claimed to be high priests of the national religion, entered with zeal into the views of Christ's enemies, and reared the standard against his followers. All their powers were exerted to crush, the cause of the divine Immanuel. Ten general persecutions are said to have been raised against the Christians; and myriads of the faithful to have been sacrificed to heathen malice and bigotry. Neither were these the only enemies of Christ. The learning of the age was applied to confound his followers. The sophistry of Grecian metaphysics directed against his unlettered disciples. Who could have expected Christ's little flock, devoid of every worldly advantage, to have maintained their ground against such formidable enemies? Who, judging by the rules of man's judgment, have entertained a suspicion that they would not soon be driven from the field? But their cause was that of God. Heaven was on their side, "In vain did the heathen rage and the people imagine vain things. He who sitteth in the heavens, laughed; the Lord had them in derision." * * * * * * SERMON II. The Wisdom of God in the means used to propagating the Gospel. 1 Corinthians i, 27, 28. "But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are." In the preceding discourse we took a summary view of the means used of God to propagate the gospel, and of the opposition made to its propagation. We are now to consider the wisdom of God in the choice of means to this end; which will bring up to our view some of the objections which have been made against the truth of the gospel. That the gospel is from God, and the means used to propagate it of his appointment, are from sundry considerations, apparent--particularly from the miracles wrought by Christ and by his disciples, who went forth in his name. Conclusive was the reasoning of Nicodemus--"Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God; for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him." God, who is perfect in wisdom, would choose no improper or unsuitable means. Their wisdom might not at first appear to men. It did not at first appear. The world cried folly and weakness. But "The foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men." In God's hand any means are sufficient to effect his designs. The rod of Moses, when stretched out by divine order, availed to bring all those plaques on Egypt, by which God made himself known and feared. When Israel left that land, it availed to open them a passage through the sea; and afterwards to bring back its waters to the destruction of their enemies. Could we see no fitness in divine appointments, we should remember that "we are of yesterday and know nothing," and not dare to arraign divine wisdom, or charge folly on God. But in the case before us, his wisdom is in many respects discernable, as will appear from a consideration of some of the objections which are made against the gospel, and against the means appointed of God to propagate it. One of the objections is taken from the supposed unsuitableness of the means. Considered in itself this made an objection. It is said the all-wise God would not have appointed them--that to appoint a company of poor, despised, ignorant fishermen, as prime ministers of a religion, is sufficient to prove that it is not from God, who always useth the best means and most suitable instruments. It is not strange that this should have been objected at the beginning of the gospel story, before any effects of the apostles labors appeared. It is a natural objection for the, proud, who thought themselves the best judges of wisdom and propriety, to have made at that day. But it comes with an ill grace from modern infidels, who cannot deny that Christianity triumphed over the power and learning of the world combined against it, though such means only were used to propagate it--such weak instruments employed in it. Naaman, the Syrian, reasoned at first like one of these objectors, but the success which attended the prophets directions convinced him of his error. Why has not the same the like effect on these? Surely, "had this counsel been of men, it would have come to nought." Under the circumstances in which Christianity made its appearance, it would have been easily overthrown; but the power of the world could not overthrow it, or prevent it from spreading far and wide. It continued--it prospered --and every opposing system fell before it. Means and instruments which human wisdom would have judged most suitable, could have done no more. The success of measures in a contest like this, proves their fitness. Under this head it is further objected that the first ministers of the gospel were ignorant of the arts and sciences cultivated by the polished nations of the age--that therefore, they were despised, especially by the Greeks. Despised they might be by those who "professed themselves wise had become fools." Yet they had all the knowledge which their work required imparted to them from above. The language of the schools would have been ill adapted to the simplicity of the gospel. It would have been unintelligible to many of those to whom the gospel was sent. The gospel offers salvation to the unlearned, equally as to the learned--should be expressed, therefore, in language easy to be understood. Had the apostles and evangelists used the abstruse language of the schoolmen, to many they would have spoken in an unknown tongue. Had the scriptures been written in such language, they would have been much more obscure than they now are. Though the gospel is plainly written, it may be rendered dark and mysterious, by a metaphysic dress, It is a peculiar excellency of the scriptures that they are mostly written in the plain language of common sense--so plainly, that "he may run who readeth them." Two of the New Testament writers were men of letters, Paul and Luke; and we find more obscurity in their writings, especially those of the former occasioned by allusions to the sciences and usages of the age, than in the other writers of that holy book. The Apocalypse is indeed abstruse, but this is not occasioned by the language, which is plain, but by the subject. That book is chiefly prophetic; and therefore expressed in the metaphors of prophetic style. Prophecy is not generally designed to be fully understood, till explained by the accomplishment. To take occasion from those who might object to the illiterate character of primitive gospel ministers, a Paul, and a Luke were found among them; but neither of them was among those first called to the Christian ministry. Those first sent forth to preach the gospel were unlearned men. The great truths of the gospel had been taught, and many had received them before these (especially St. Paul) had become believers--that the faith of the first followers of Christ, might appear, "not to stand in the wisdom of men, but in power of God." Had the primitive ministry been learned philosophers, or renowned rhetoricians, suspicions might have arisen that mankind had been deceived, that they had been bewildered by the subtlety of science, or charmed by the fascinating power of eloquence, into the belief of a scheme which they did not understand. This cannot be suspected when the character of the first Christian ministers is considered, and the progress which Had been made in propagating the gospel, before any of the learned were joined as their assistants in the work. The propriety of the gospel method, may be farther argued from the nature of the gospel. Wisdom of words is not necessary to communicate gospel truths, or deep penetration, sufficiently to understand them. It was a remark of the apostle "that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, were called." The same observation may yet be made. People of plain common sense more often receive the gospel, and favor the things of true religion, than those who affect superior powers, and to understand all mysteries. Those who are wise in their own imaginations, often reject the counsel of God against themselves, and put from them offered salvation. The manner in which the apostles and their fellow laborers preached the gospel, hath also been objected to as unwise. Their preaching was chiefly a plain unaffected exhibition of truth, laid before those who heard them, and left with them. To produce faith in Christ, they declared the time, place and circumstances of his birth, referring to the prophecies which foretold them--declared the concurring testimonies of angels and inspired persons, who gave witness for him--exhibited sketches of his life--his teaching--his miracles--declared his prediction of his own death, with the manner, time, and place--also of his resurrection on the third day, and the fulfillment of those predictions. They referred to his foretelling Peter's fall and recovery; Judas' treachery and end, with the events which followed--they referred also to Christ's teaching and miracles--to those which attended his sufferings and resurrection--they adduced the evidence which they had of his death and resurrection--declared the opportunities which they had with him after his passion--the instructions they received from him--the orders which he gave them, and his ascension from the mount of Olives, of which they were witnesses, "confirming their words with signs following." To persuade men to receive and obey the gospel, they declared the consequences to those who received, and to those who rejected it --that the same Jesus who had died on the cross, was appointed by the Father, "to be the Judge of quick and dead--that he would come again in like manner as he had gone away--that all mankind must appear before his judgment seat to give an account of themselves, and receive the deeds done in the body," that those who flee for refuge to the hope of the gospel, will find mercy, and be made forever happy with God, but those who neglect the gospel will be sent away into everlasting punishment. Such interesting truths, those ministers of Christ laid before mankind, and left with them for their consideration. But they used no rhetoric to impress them. Neither did they appeal to the passions of their hearers; in which they followed the pattern set them by their Lord, who "did not strive, nor cry, nor cause any man to hear his voice in the streets." With only a fair statement of those truths, accompanied with the offer of "mercy and grace to help in time of need," they left mankind to choose for themselves and abide the consequences. This some have thought an improper manner of calling men into the kingdom of Christ; that had been more pathetic in their addresses, and more argumentative in their applications, they would have labored with more effect; that this plain and simple method is unworthy of God, and, not likely to be from him. If we consider the nature and design of Christianity, such objections will have little weight. It is not the design of heaven to compel men to obey the gospel, or to drive them to an unwilling submission to Christ. If an exhibition of gospel truth and beauty, and the consequences of receiving or rejecting its overtures, are discarded; if men refuse, by these means to be persuaded, they are left, and the consequences follow. To People of sober sense, this method appears rational. It is not probable that those who are not thus prevailed with to embrace the gospel, would in any other way be made Christians indeed. People who are frightened into religion seldom persevere. Neither do those whose passions are so inflamed that they appear, for a time, in ecstasies. When their passions subside, they grow cool, and their religion dies. If the great truths of religion, laid before men, as was done by Christ and his apostles, do not avail to render them rationally and sincerely religious, little value is to be put on those heats of imagination, which produce temporary raptures, and set some on fire in religion. Such ardent love doth not abide; it soon cools, and commonly leaves those who had been the subjects of it no better than it found them, and but too often much worse. But while some object to the simplicity of the gospel, and to the plain language and address of the primitive ministry, others are offended at the mysteries in the Christian system. Who can understand some things contained in what is called a revelation? And what valuable ends can be answered by a revelation which is unintelligible? say these objectors. But, those points in the Christian scheme which are too deep for human comprehension, do not relate to practice. All required, in relation to them, is an assent to their truth, on the credit of God's word. This is neither difficult nor unreasonable. Perhaps with only human powers, it may be impossible to comprehend those subjects which are left mysterious in divine revelation; but are they incredible if God hath declared them? Few would be the articles of our creed, did we admit the belief of nothing which we do not understand. We carry mysteries in ourselves. We are compounded of soul and body, but who explain the connexion; tell us the essence of either the one or the other, or define the principles on which the soul commands the body? We are lost in ourselves, and in all the objects which surround us. Whatever God hath declared, we are bound to believe because he hath declared it; and whatever he hath enjoined, we are bound to do because he hath enjoined it, though the reasons of his injunctions may not be revealed. God is under no obligations to explain matters to us. "God is greater than man. Why dost thou strive with him? He giveth not account of his matters." Others object because the Gospel is not sent to all nations. That God should be supposed to communicate to some, and not to others they allege to be unreasonable and sufficient to destroy its credit; especially, as the book which claims to be a revelation teacheth that "there it no respect of persons with God." That God makes his creatures to differ respecting talents and advantages, is a truth not to be denied. Those who on this account, object to the truth of the gospel, will not deny it. If God makes differences respecting every thing else, why not respecting religion? Where is the injustice or impropriety of trying some with gospel advantages; others only with the light of nature? If requirements vary with betrustments, none have reason to complain; and that this is the case is plainly the language of revelation.* With equal reason might the hand of God in creation be denied, because different grades are found among creatures, and some have greatly the advantage over others; and in providence because its distributions are unequal. That these inequalities are observable, and that they are the work of God, will be acknowledged by all who believe the being of a God, and his providential government. If any are disposed to call these in question, we turn from them. To reason with them would be in vain. "That which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them. For the invisible things of him, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse." * Vid. Discourse on Romans, ii. 11. A scoffing age may cry out against Christianity. To some it may be a "stumbling block; to others foolishness." Men may exclaim against the gospel, and against the doctrines and duties of it, and the means which have been used of God to propagate it. Still "the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men." So it hath been in times past; so it will be in times to come. _The foolish, the weak and base things of the world, have confounded and brought to nought, all the world termed wise, and great, and mighty_. Imperial Rome at the summit of her greatness, could not crush the cause of him who died on Calvary! "Had this counsel or work been of men, it would have come to nought." Probably the name of Jesus, would long ere now have perished from the earth. But all his enemies could do nothing effectually against him. They could only do what God's counsel had determined to be done. Christianity hath still its enemies; of the same character with those of old. They have overthrown the faith of some. Others they may seduce. That "scoffers should arise, in the last days walking after their own lusts; that some should deny the Lord that bought them, and that many should follow their pernicious ways," were foretold by an inspired apostle, and "they turned to us for a testimony." We are called a Christian people. "If we believe the gospel, happy are we if we obey it." The generality profess to believe it. But how is it received? Do not many neglect it? Do not some who assent to its truth, "go their way to their farms, or their merchandize," regardless of it, neither confessing Christ before men, nor seeking an interest in him? If the gospel is from God, to such neglecters Of the grace it offers, it must be "a favor of death unto death!" And is not their number great? Doth it not increase from year to year, from age to age? To these who are taken up with sensual pleasures, and with minding only earthly things, St. Paul would say "even weeping you are enemies to the cross of Christ, and your end will be destruction." Let us be persuaded to bring home these considerations to ourselves. We are deeply interested in them. "The secrets of our hearts will ere long be judged by the gospel of Christ." To those who will not receive and obey the gospel, we have only to say, "Notwithstanding, be ye sure of this, that the Kingdom of God is come nigh unto you." * * * * * * SERMON III. The Declensions of Christianity, an Argument of its Truth.. Luke xviii. 8. When the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth? "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but be that believeth not shall be damned." So certified the risen Savior. Faith is made a condition of salvation. But God requires only a reasonable service. He must then have given evidence of the truth to which He requires assent. He hath given it abundantly; Christians "are compassed about with a cloud of witnesses." The proofs of Christianity are of two kinds; external and internal. Both are strong. United they leave infidelity without excuse. Of external, the chief are miracles and prophecy. Miracles carried conviction to beholders; and were designed to give credibility to special messengers. Prophecy is a standing evidence, by which testimony is borne to the truth of revelation; yea, it is a growing evidence, which gains strength by every fulfillment. Some may envy those who lived in this age of miracles supposing them sufficient to banish every doubt. But the proof arising from the fulfillment of prophecy, which we enjoy above them, is equal if not superior to theirs. The prophecies contain sketches of the history of man, and of the plan of providence, from their respective dates to the end of the world. Those which relate _to the declensions of religion, which were to take place under the gospel dispensation_, will now only be considered. From those declensions, arguments are drawn against the truth of Christianity. Was Christianity from God, he would verify the declaration made by him who claimed to be his Son. _The gates of Hell shall not prevail against it_. But they do prevail. What was once said of its author, _Behold the world is gone after him,_ will now apply to its enemy. This religion is not therefore from God, but of man's device. Propt up as it is, by human laws, and supported by "the powers that be," it totters towards ruin. Left to itself, it would soon fall and come to nought. Such are the proud vauntings of infidelity, when "iniquity abounds and the love of many waxeth cold." So when Christ hung on the cross, and when he slept in the tomb, ignorant of consequences, his disciples "wept and lamented, and the world rejoiced;" but the time was short. Soon the world was confounded and the "sorrow of his disciples was turned into joy." IF the declensions which we witness, are foretold in scripture, they are no occasion of surprize. Yea, instead of weakening our faith, they may reasonably increase it. And when we consider the assurances given us, that these declensions were to antecede the universal prevalence of true religion; they may also serve to increase our hope. To _shew that these declensions are foretold, and that we may expect yet greater abominations, than have hitherto appeared_, is attempted in the following discourse. When _the son of man cometh shall he find faith on the earth_? That Christ is here intended by the Son of man; and that faith will be rare among men at the coming of his, referred to, are not doubtful matters. But what coming of Christ is here referred to? This is first to be ascertained. The coming of Christ refers in the scripture, to several events. Sometimes to his incarnation; sometimes to the destruction of Jerusalem, and the Jewish polity; sometimes to his coming to judgment; and sometimes to the beginning of that universal dominion which he is to exercise on earth in the latter days. Each of these is the subject of several prophecies. Christ's incarnation, or his coming to dwell with men, and to obey and suffer for their redemption, was a principal subject of the old testament prophecies. "To him gave all the prophets witness." The divine justice executed on the Jews, in the destruction of their chief city, and polity, is also termed Christ's coming. This was the subject of several prophecies of old. It was foretold by Moses, and sundry others who lived before the gospel day; but more particularly by Christ, in person just before his sufferings. To this event the desolations foretold in the twenty fourth of Matthew, and its parallels in the other gospels, had a primary reference. The metaphors used to describe it are strong. They have been supposed to refer to the general judgment; and they have, no doubt an ultimate reference to it. But they refer, more immediately to another coming of Christ; his coming to render to the Jews according to their demerits as a people, soon after they should have filled up the measure of their iniquity by his crucifixion; which by the circumstances attending it, became a national act. That this coming of Christ was particularly intended in those predictions, is, from several considerations apparent. That the Christians of that age, who were conversant with the apostles, and instructed by them, received this to be the meaning of those prophecies, and that they fled at the approach of the Roman armies, and escaped the destruction which came on the Jews, are matters of notoriety. And that this was the primary meaning of those prophecies, is further evident from an express declaration which they contain; "_Verily I say unto you, This generation shall not pass away till all these things be fulfilled_." This closeth the prophecy. The whole must therefore have received a primary accomplishment, "before that generation did pass away." This was fulfilled in the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus. Christ's coming to judgment, is often foretold in every part of the new testament, to pass over the intimations given of it in the old. But none of these can be _the coming of the Son of man_, referred to in the text. That it cannot refer to his incarnation is evident, from the time in which the declaration in the text was made. His coming in the flesh had been then accomplished. Neither can it refer to his coming to punish Jewish apostasy and ingratitude; or to his coming to judge the world in righteousness, because the moral state of the world at neither to those periods, answers to the description here given. _Shall he find faith on the earth_? The ruin of the Jews by the Roman armies, happened about thirty six years after Christ's crucifixion. Long ere that time the spirit had been poured out, and many had embraced the gospel. The apostles and evangelists, had gone, not only to "the lost sheep of the house of Israel, but also into the way of the Gentiles;" had called "those who were afar off, as well as those who were near; their sound had gone into all the earth, and their words to the end of the world." Neither had they labored among the Gentiles in vain. St. Paul spake by the Spirit when he declared to the Jews that the salvation of God was sent unto the Gentiles, and they would hear it. His word was verified. "Many were added to the Lord, and the number of the disciples was multiplied." Such was the state of the world, at that _coming of the Son of man. Faith was then to be found on the earth_, if not among Jews. When Christ shall come to judgment, we have reason to believe, that faith will also be found on earth; and more than at that period we have now considered. The scriptures of both testaments, abound with predictions of the universal prevalence of religion, in the latter days; of the whole worlds rejoicing under the auspicious government of the Prince of Peace; of restraints laid on the powers of darkness, that they should not deceive and seduce mankind. And though we are taught that "the old serpent will afterwards be loosed, for a little season, and go forth to deceive the nations which are in the four quarters of the earth," we have no intimation that the main body of the Church will be corrupted by his influence, or injured by his power. His adherents may "compass the camp of the saints, and the beloved city," but will make no attack upon them. "Fire will come down from God out of heaven, and destroy them." By some special, perhaps miraculous interpolation of providence, the people of God will be protected and delivered. St. john, who gives more particulars of the latter day glory, than those who had gone before him, fixes the term Christ's reign on earth a thousand years, which he represents to be those _next preceding_ the judgment. And agreeably to the statement which he hath made, a numerous body of saints will then be found to welcome their Lord, and rejoice before him at his coming. To this agree the other prophets who treat of this subject. No other limits the term of Christ's reign; or mentions Satan's being enlarged and permitted any measure of deceptive influence, after the restraints laid upon him at the beginning Christ's reign. But others foretell the happy day, and several seem to dwell delightfully upon it, and represent it as continuing to the end of time; and none give the remotest hint that it is to terminate, and iniquity again to become universally prevalent. Isaiah often mentions it, and dilates more largely upon it than any other who lived before the gospel day. From his representations we should expect it to terminate _only with time_. "I will make the an _eternal_ excellency--violence shall _no more be heard_ in thy land; wasting nor destruction within thy borders--the sun shall be _no more_ thy light by day; neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee, but the Lord shall be unto thee _an everlasting light_, and thy God thy glory--the days of thy mourning _shall be ended_--thy people shall be all righteous; they shall inherit the land _forever_." By the little horn in Daniel's vision, Antichrist is doubtless intended. When at his fall Christ is to take the kingdom; or it is to be given to his people, it is to be an abiding kingdom. "And there was given unto him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations and languages, should serve him; _his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, an his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed_." This is a prophecy of the universal prevalence of true religion in the last days, after the reign of Antichrist shall have come to an end. By the explanation in the latter part of the chapter, the saints are from that period to have the dominion. It is no more to be taken from them. "The saints of the most high shall take the kingdom, and _possess the kingdom for ever, even forever and ever_--and the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given to the people of the saints of the most high, _whose kingdom is an ever lasting kingdom_, and all dominion shall serve and obey him." These representations agree with that made to St. John, who saw the church guarded and protected from infernal power and influence, at the close of the millennium. The only difference consists in the mention of a few particulars by the apostle, which were not communicated to the prophets; such as the term of Christ's reign on earth; and some fruitless attempts of the powers of darkness against his people, after that term shall have expired. The coming to judgment cannot therefore be intended in the text. _There will then be faith on the earth_. But if we consider "that which is noted in the scripture of truth," respecting the moral state of the world before and at the time of Christ's coming to reign upon it, we shall find it answering to this description. We will therefore, first take a general view _of the prophecies respecting the moral state of the world, under the gospel dispensation? Then a more particular view of the great declensions which were to take place, with a special reference to the state of religion at the approach of the latter day glory_. The Savior, in person, and by his Spirit, gave general intimations to the apostles, of the times which were to pass over them, and over his church. When they were ordered to preach the gospel in all the world, beginning at Jerusalem, they were forewarned that the Jews would reject their testimony, and persecute them, as they had persecuted their Lord--that soon after "there would be great distress in that land, and wrath upon that people--that they would fall by the sword; be led captive into all nations, and that Jerusalem would be trodden down of the Gentiles, till the times of the Gentiles should be fulfilled." The comforter which was to "teach them all things," not only explaining the nature of Christianity, and causing them to understand it, but also to unveil futurity before them, taught them, that after the Jews had rejected the gospel, the Gentiles would receive it, and the church grow and become great; that a falling away would afterwards follow, which would spread wide, and continue for a longtime, till it became nearly total; that when such was the state of the church, Christ would come, take the kingdom, and reign on earth. Such were the outlines of futurity, relative to Christianity, as sketched out before the apostles. But if we descend to particulars, and examine the prophecies with attention, we shall find that the defections, which were to take place antecedent to the reign of the Redeemer, were to be of two kinds--that they were to arise at different times, and from different sources--that one was to be a corruption of religion, the other a rejection of it--that the former was to antecede and prepare the way for the latter. This will be the subject: of another discourse. * * * * * * SERMON IV. _The Declensions of Christianity, an Argument of its Truth_. Luke xviii. 8. "_When the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth_?" That the coming of the Son of man, is here intended of Christ's coming at the commencement of the latter day glory, hath been alleged in the preceding discourse, and several considerations adduced in proof. Additional evidence will arise from a view of the prophecies _relative to the great declensions_ which were to take place in the church, during the gospel day. These, we observed, are of two kinds, one, a _corruption of religion_, the other _its rejection_. The intimations given of them in the new testament, are chiefly found in the writings of St, Paul, Peter and John. They are noticed also by Jude. The two former suffered martyrdom under Nero. When the time of their departure drew nigh, they had separately a view of the then future state of the church; "particularly of the declension which were to take place in the kingdoms of this world, shall become the kingdom of our Lord and Christ." St. John had the same opened to his view in the isle of Patmos. St. Paul in his second epistle to the Thessalonians, after rectifying the mistake of those who thought the day of judgment then at hand, proceeded to inform them that there would be great declensions in the church before the end of the world. "Let no man deceive you, by any means, for that day shall not come, except there come a falling away first, and that man of sin be revealed, the son of perdition; who opposeth himself above all that is called God, or is worshipped; so that as God, he sitteth in the temple of God, shewing himself that he is God." The antichristian defection is here evidently intended. The apostle toucheth on the same subject in his first epistle to Timothy, and directs him "to put the brethren in remembrance of these things," to prevent surprise when they should happen. This was the first great declension which was to be permitted in the church. In his second epistle to the same Christian bishop, written not long before his death, he resumes the subject of the defections which were to happen in the church, but with a more particular reference to defections of a different kind, and of a latter date. Having exhorted Timothy to faithfulness in the discharge of official duty, he adds a reason; "For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts, shall heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears; and they shall turn their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables." This doth not answer to the Romish defection. It was never the character of that church to "heap to themselves teachers." They never ran after those of other persuasions, who brought new doctrines. Their errors were of the contrary kind. They rejected and persecuted every teacher who did not derive from their _infallible head_, and teach as he directed. But "itching ears" have misled many of those, who "are moved away from the hope of the gospel. By turning to fables they have made shipwreck of faith, and fallen a prey to those who lie in wait to deceive." St. peter wrote with equal plainness of the general defections; but those of infidelity are the subject of his prophecies--"There shall be false teachers among you, who privily shall bring in damnable heretics, _even denying the Lord that bought them_, and bring upon themselves swift destruction. And many shall follow their pernicious ways; by reason of whom the truth shall be evil spoken of." The heresies here intended are depicted too minutely to be mistaken. The heresiarchs are described as immoral, vain and proud, pretending to superior knowledge and penetration, despising law and government, and trampling them under their feet. Toward the close of his second epistle, the apostle remarks, that he "wrote to stir up pure minds by way of remembrance; that they might be mindful of the words spoken before, by the holy prophets"--that is, of the predictions of inspired men, who had forewarned them of those deceivers--"Knowing this first, that there shall come in the last days, scoffers, walking after their own lusts, and saying where is the promise of his coming?" And he refers them to St. Paul, who had predicted their rise in the church--"Even as our beloved brother Paul also, according to the wisdom given unto him hath written unto you: As also in all his epistles, speaking in them _of these things_"--He adds --"Ye therefore, beloved, seeing ye know these things before, beware, lest ye also, being led away with the error of the wicked, fall from your own stedfastness." The short epistle of St. Jude is little other than a prophetic description of the same apostasy and its leaders, whom he terms "ungodly men, turning the grace of God into lasciviousness, and _denying the only Lord God, and our Lord Jesus Christ_--These are murderers, complainers, walking after their own lusts, and their mouths speaking great swelling words--But beloved, remember ye the words which were _spoken before_ of the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ; how they told you there should be mockers in the last time, who should walk after their own lusts." The errors of Rome are not here intended. They are manifestly errors of a later date, which were to appear after those of Rome should subside, having lost their influence. It is repeatedly noted that they were to arise in _the last days_. They are errors of which this age is witness--errors which have spread, and are yet spreading? those of infidelity and atheism, with their usual attendants, immorality in every hideous form. We should therefore "remember the words which were spoken before"--the warnings which have been given us of those defections, which were to intervene those of Antichrist, and _the coming of the Son of man_. The Apocalypse, though of more difficult interpretation, contains some particulars sufficiently intelligible and to our purpose. The writer enlarges on the Romish apostasy, which he describes more minutely than any who had preceded him, both in its rise and progress, and also in the circumstances which should attend its overthrow. He foretells the spirit, pride, riches, glare of ornaments, strange abominations, and unprecedented cruelties; the power, signs and lying wonders, which were to render Rome the wonder and dread of the whole earth. The portrait is in every part so exact and circumstantial, that none who are acquainted with the history of that church, can mistake it; unless blinded by interest or prejudice. The apostle predicts also the other great defection which was to follow the antichristian, though in language more obscure and figurative, "And I saw three unclean spirits, like frogs, come out of the mouth of the dragon, and out of the mouth of the beast, and out of the mouth of the false prophet for they are the spirits of devils, working miracles, which go forth unto the kings of the earth, and the whole world, to gather them to the battle of the great day of God Almighty." * * Vid. a discourse on this subject by Timothy Dwight, D.D. President of Yale College, printed at Newhaven, A.D. 1798. It deserves particular notice that all these strange declensions, which were foretold, as to take place in the church, and world, are represented as _antecedent_ to Christ's reign on earth, and terminating _before_ the commencement of that blessed era. It is farther to be observed that during the whole antichristian defection, God's "two witnesses were to prophecy clothed in sackcloth." God would have a small, but sufficient number of faithful servants, who, in low and humble circumstances, would maintain the truth and be witnesses for him during the reign of man of sin. But about the end of his reign, they will have finished their testimony. Their enemies will then prevail against them and destroy them, and for a short term there will be none to stand up for God +--none to warn the wicked, or to disturb them in their chosen ways. And they are represented as exulting in their deliverance from the society of those who amidst their departures from the living God, had tormented them,++ by warnings of future wrath, and an eternity according to their works. For this is the way in which God's witnesses torment the wicked. * * * * + Comparatively None. The number will be exceedingly small--the times resemble those just before the flood, when Noah was said to stand alone. The pageantry of Romish worship may be kept up in that church, till mystical Babylon shall be destroyed, in the awful manner foretold in the Revelation; but infidelity hath long since, tipped the foundation of catholic religion, being grafted on the ruins of superstition. The absurd doctrines, and legendary tales of popery, may have been credited in the dark ages, when many of the clergy were unable to write their names, or so much as read their alphabet; but the belief of them is utterly inconsistent with the light everywhere diffused since the revival of literature. ++ Tormented them. This language is remarkable. It intimates that the pains occasioned in the wicked, by the warnings of the faithful are the same, in kind, as those of the damned, and that they are often severe. This accounts for the mad joy of infidelity--for the frantic triumphs of those who have persuaded themselves that religion is a fable. It accounts for the representation here given of the conduct of an unbelieving world, when infidelity shall have become universal, and the dead body of religion lie exposed to public scorn. Such is the time here foretold--a time when the age of atheism may be vauntingly termed "the age of reason." * * * * * God's witnesses testify not only against antichristian errors, but also against infidelity and the immorality it occasions. When he ceases to have witnesses there will be none to testify against either the one or the other. The world must _then_ be deluged in infidelity and atheism. This agrees with the representation given by the apostle; who describes the enemies of God as refusing graves to his slaughtered witnesses, and causing their dead bodies to lie exposed to public view, that they may rejoice over them, and congratulate one another on their deliverance from the company of those who had disturbed them in their sinful indulgences; and such as continuing to be the state of "the people, and kindreds, and tongues, and nations," till the witnesses are raised from the dead and ascend to heaven in the presence of their enemies; when Christianity will revive, and Christ's reign on earth begin. These representations may be designed to intimate that the term in which infidelity will appear to be universal, will be so short that the warnings of the faithful will not be forgotten--that they will be kept in mind by the exultations occasioned by deliverance from the fears of religion, and from the presence of those who had excited those fears, by exhibiting proofs of religion which they could not refute. And how natural and common are such exultations, with those devoid of religious fear? But agreeably to the view given by the apostle, when such shall have become the state of the world, and the nations shall be thus felicitating themselves in full persuasion that all religion is a dream, and death an eternal sleep, the signals of Christ's coming to take the kingdom, will be given, and witnesses of the truth of Christianity, which cannot be disputed, suddenly arise, to the surprize and confusion of scoffing sinners; multitudes of whom will be swept off by desolating judgments to prepare the way for "the people of the saints of the most high, _whose kingdom is an everlasting kingdom_." For that desolations are to close the sad scene of apostasy, and prepare Christ's way is clearly foretold; particularly by St. John, who beheld, in vision, "the kings of the earth, and of the whole world, gathered to the battle of the great day of God Almighty;" and saw such an effusion of their blood, that "the harvest of the earth might be considered as reaped, the vine of the earth as cut and cast into the great wine press of the wrath of God, whence flowed blood to the horses bridles." * Thus from the general tenor of prophecy it appears that infidelity will have overspread the world _when the Son of man shall come_ to reign upon it: And as this agrees to no other coming of his foretold by the prophets, there can be no reasonable doubt what _coming_ is intended in the text. If we keep these things in mind, we will not wonder at the declensions of religion and prevalence of infidelity. They will remind us of the remark made by our Savior to his sorrowing disciples just before his sufferings, "these things have I told you, that when the time shall come, ye may remember that I told you of them." Before, or about the time of this _coming of the Son of man_, Antichrist will fall--Mahomedan delusion terminate--"The Jews look to him whom they pierced, and mourn--be gathered the second time" from their dispersions, and returned to their own land, and the fullness of the Gentiles be brought in. Perhaps these may be the signs of Christ's coming, intended by the resurrection of the witnesses, When these events shall take place "the Lord will be king over all the earth. In that day there will be one Lord and his name one." * Revelation xiv. 15, 20. REFLEXIONS If we do not mistake the coming of the Son of man, here referred to, gloomy is the prospect now immediately before us. Hitherto God hath had his witnesses; but ere long they will cease from their labors, and leave infidelity undisturbed. That the cause of the redeemer was to be depressed, before its universal prevalence in the latter days, is plainly revealed. The only difficulty is to ascertain the manner. Bishop Newton expects another confederacy of the catholic powers to destroy the followers of the Lamb, which will so nearly succeed, that for a short term none will dare to appear as his followers. But if infidelity was to intervene the antichristian defection, and prevalence of religion in the latter days, is this hypothesis probable? Is it not more reasonable to expect that destruction of the witnesses in another way, and by other enemies--by the mockers and scoffers of the last times, who should be generated by papal error and superstition? And doth not the present state of the world confirm these expectations? The catholic religion hath been declining for several ages. It received a deadly wound from Luther and his associates, which hath not yet been healed. From that period it hath dwindled, and is now little more than a name. But infidelity hath been, for almost an equal term progressing, and already stalks out to public view: Yea, it vaunts with shameless pride, as though sure of victory. And we are constrained to acknowledge, that "of a truth, it hath laid waste nations and their countries!" Our expectation is farther confirmed by observing the change which is made in the weapons of internal warfare. These are no longer bonds, imprisonments, tortures and death, but the shafts of ridicule, and sneers of contempt. "Trials of cruel mocking," now exercise the faith and patience of the saints. Religion, the dignity and hope of man, hath become the sport of stupid infidels! The jest of sorry witlings! These hissings of the serpent are every where to be heard! Internal malice, never before made so general attack in this way. Perhaps, with all his sagacity the adversary did not suspect that creatures made for eternity could be driven from the way of peace by the derision of fools, till taught it by experience. But this hath been found his most successful weapon! It hath done greater mischief to Christianity, than all the rage of persecution! Many account it honorable, to suffer, pain or loss, with patience, and to face danger and death with fortitude; but few think themselves honored by scorn and reproach. Human nature is here attacked on its weakest side. Some European scoffers, of high rank, during the last age took the lead in this mode of attack on Christianity; and have been followed by a countless throng of noble and ignoble, learned and unlearned, down to this day. Few infidels are so modest as not to affect wit on the subject of religion; few witticisms so contemptible as not to meet the approbation and receive the applause of brother infidels. That strong combinations have been formed against Christianity, and also against civil government, in the kingdoms of Europe, and that they have too successfully undermined both, is an acknowledged fact. In the leaders of those conspiracies we discover all the traits of character, attributed in prophecy to the scoffers who should arise in the last days. When every circumstance, in events so remarkable agree with the predictions, can doubt remain whether the predictions are fulfilled? There hath been faith in this land. It is not yet extinct. But we are importing the principles, and practices of Europe. "The Mockers of the last times" are now to be seen on this side the Atlantic. "Many follow their pernicious ways." We have reason to expect the evils to increase till "The godly cease and the faithful fail" from among us. _For when the Son of man cometh shall he find faith on the earth_? This land will also be overspread with infidelity! "The whole world lie in wickedness!" There may be partial revivals of religion, but no general reformation is to be expected; and after every refreshing, the declensions will probably be greater than before. Fanatic emotions, here and there, may flatter some who are friends to religion, but they only serve to accelerate the spread of infidelity. It is a gloomy thought! The serious soul saddens; sorrow fills the good man's heart, if, when he sees little regard paid to religion, he expects yet greater defections! If when he sees but few of those who are rising into life, paying attention to the best things, he expects still fewer of their descendants to be wise and good! Yea that the declensions will continue and increase, "till all flesh shall become corrupt, and the earth be filled with violence!" Would to God these expectations might not be realized; for they are exceedingly distressing. But they appear to us to be dictated by the spirit of truth, and confirmed by the history of the world, and by the progress of events opening to view. One consideration, however, ministers consolation, shining through the gloom; namely, the long, holy, happy period, which may be expected to follow the dark term now approaching. By _dark_ we mean only in a moral view. Respecting arts and sciences, mankind may never have been more enlightened than at present. But this is foreign to religion. When Egypt, Greece, and Rome, were the seats of the muses, they remained as devoid of religious knowledge, as the most ignorant barbarians. Arts and sciences may still flourish, and yet deeper researches be made into the _arcana_ of nature, while religion is dying and atheism succeeding in its place. Some intervening links are necessary to connect present age with the happy times now distant. Who shall fill them, the divine sovereign will determine. An hour of temptation must try all who dwell upon the earth. These are the times in which we are tried. Do we envy those who may live during the Peaceful reign of the Redeemer? Let us not forget that we are favored above many who have gone before us--above some of our contemporaries and probably above those who will succeed us, before the commencement of that happy era. Nothing necessary to salvation is denied us. If straitened it is in our own bowels. If faithful to improve the talents put into our hands, "our labor will not be in vain in the Lord"--God will keep us to his kingdom. There we shall see Christ's glory, though we may never see it here as some others who come after us. Be it also remembered, that the rewards of the coming world, will be proportioned to the difficulties we may have to encounter here in this. Those who make their way to heaven through darkness and temptations, and force their way through hostile bands, will rise to greater honors there, than though they had ascended by an easier and a smoother road. Nothing done or suffered in the way of duty will loose its reward. God hath not said "seek ye my face in vain." "Wherefore, brethren give diligence to make your calling and election sure; for if ye do these things, ye shall never fall; for so an entrance shall be ministered unto you abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory, both now and forever. Amen." * * * * * * SERMON V. Abram's Horror of great Darkness. Genesis xv. 12. "And when the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abram; and lo, an horror of great darkness fell upon him." If we consider the sketch, given us in scripture, of the life of this patriarch, we shall find that few have had equal manifestations of the divine favor. But the light did not at all times shine on him. He had his dark hours while dwelling in this strange land. Here we find _an horror of great darkness to have fallen upon him_. The language used to describe his state, on this occasion, is strong. It expresses more than the want of God's sensible presence. It describes a state similar to that of the psalmist, "While I suffer thy terrors I am distracted." His sufferings probably bore an affinity to those of the Savior when the father hid his face from him; at which period there was more than the withdrawing of his sensible presence, the powers of darkness were suffered to terrify and afflict him--"It was their hour"--God had left him in their hands. So Abram on this occasion. Just before God had smiled upon him--"Fear not, Abram: I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward." Then all was light and love. "The candle of the Lord shone on his head." When he complained that he had no child to comfort him, or inherit his possessions, God promised him an heir, and countless progeny--"Look now toward heaven and tell the stars, if thou be able to number them--So shall thy seed be. And he believed the Lord; and he counted it to him for righteousness." What an occasion of joy? What strange manifestation of divine favor? They are scarcely paralleled in the history of man. But how sudden the reverse? The same day--_when the sun was going down_; lo! the brightness disappears, and _an horror of great darkness fell upon him_. A deep _sleep fell upon Abram_. This was not a natural sleep. There is no probability that he would have given way to weakness, and fallen into a common sleep, while engaged in covenanting with God; binding himself with solemn engagements, and receiving tokens of the divine favor, and the promise of blessings for a great while to come. If he could have slept while receiving such manifestations of the divine friendship, it is not probable that his dreams would have been terrifying: His situation would rather have inspired joyful sensations, and exciting pleasing expectations. THAT which for want of language more pertinent and expressive, is here termed sleep, seems to have been divine ecstasy--such influence of the holy spirit operating in the soul, as locked it up from everything earthly, and shut out worldly things, as effectually as a deep sleep, which shuts up the soul and closeth all its avenues, so that nothing terrestrial can find admittance. This was often experienced by the prophets, when God revealed himself to them, and made known his will. Thus Daniel, when the angel Gabriel was sent to solve his doubts, and let him into futurity--"Now as he was speaking with me, I was in a deep sleep on my face toward the ground." The holy prophet, filled with fear at the approach of the celestial messenger, could not have fallen asleep, like some careless attendant in the house of God. Yet such is the language used to express his situation at that time, and afterwards on a similar occasion.* The three disciples, who witnessed the transfiguration, experienced similar sensations--sensations which absorbed the soul, and shut out terrestrial objects, which the evangelist compares to sleep. * Daniel viii. 18, x. 9. But why was Abram's joy, occasioned by the communications of the morning, so soon turned to horror. The reasons are with him "Whose judgments are unsearchable, and his ways past finding out." We may observe, however, that such is the way of God with man, while here on trial. If at any time a person seems peculiarly favored of heaven, something of a different nature is commonly set over against it. Perhaps to remind him that this is not his rest. We seldom enjoy prosperity without a sensible mixture of adversity; or without somewhat adverse following in quick succession. "Even in laughter, the heart is sorrowful, and the end of mirth is heaviness." Neither are special trials or sorrows sent alone; comforts and consolations are usually joined with the, or soon succeed them. If we consider the matter, we shall observe this in ourselves; and may often discover it in others. We see it in the history of this patriarch, and that of many of his descendants. The pilgrimage of Jacob, how remarkably diversified with good and evil, with joy and sorrow? That also of Joseph--of Moses--of Daniel? At times each of these were raised high and brought low--sometimes found themselves at the summit of earthly honor and felicity; at other times, were cast down, and hope seemed ready to forsake them. In the history of Job the same things are exemplified in still stronger colors. That holy man experienced the extremes of honor and infamy, joy and grief, hope and terror. The prophets and apostles, passed through scenes in many respects similar; their joys and sorrows were contrasted to each other. Daniel's mournings and fastings were followed with remarkable discoveries and cheering revelations; but the divine communications were almost too strong for frail humanity; they filled him with dismay, and had well nigh destroyed his mortal body. "He fainted and was sick certain days." St. Paul was "caught up into paradise and heard unspeakable words, which it was not possible for a man to utter"--had a view of the ineffable glory of the upper world; but trials no less remarkable, and very severe, were contrasted to those strange distinctions, and more than earthly joys! "Lest I should be exalted above measure, through the abundance of the revelations, there was given me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure." * * 2 Corinthians xii. 4-7. St. john suffered sore persecutions--was banished from the society of his fellow Christians, if not from the society of men. But divine discoveries repaid all his sufferings--heaven's ineffable glories were opened to his view! What he witnessed could be but very partially communicated. Language is weak; only faint hints and general intimations could be given of the "glory which is to be revealed." But the suffering apostle enjoyed it, and was supported, yea, enraptured by it. This life is filled with changes. Good and evil, hope and fear, light and darkness, are set over against each other. The saints, while they dwell in the dust, sometimes walk in darkness, and have their hours of gloom and horror--"The whole creation groaneth and travaileth together in pain until now--Even those who have the first fruits of the spirit, groan within themselves, waiting for--the redemption of the body. Those of whom the world is not worthy, are often in heaviness, through manifold temptations." We may wonder at these things: but when we consider them as ordered of God, the consideration, should calm our minds, and bring us to say with the astonished Shunamite of old, "It is well." * * 2 Kings iv. 26. God doth not order sorrows to his creatures here, because he delights in their sufferings. "He grieves not willingly, neither afflicts the children of men. He doth it for their profit, that they may be partakers of his holiness." And which of the saints hath not received benefit from it? Who among them hath not sometimes been ready to adopt the language of the psalmist, "It is good for me, that I have been afflicted." "Born of the earth, we are earthly"--our afflictions naturally descend. We are prone to set our affections on temporal things, and set up our rest where there is no abiding. Therefore do we need afflictions to keep us mindful of our situation. Such remains of depravity are left in the renewed, that prosperity often corrupts them. But for the sorrows and sufferings ordered out to them, they would forget God and lose themselves among the deceitful cares, and infatuating allurements of this strange land. Intervals of comfort are also needful for them. Were these denied them, "the spirits would fail before God, and the souls which he hath made." And intervals of light and joy are given to refresh and cheer, and animate them to the duties required in this land of darkness and doubt. But they are not intended to satisfy. They answer like ends to the Christian during his earthly pilgrimage, as the fruits of Canaan, carried by the spies into the wilderness did to Israel while journeying toward the land of promise--serve to give them a glance of the good things prepared for them, to increase their longings after them, and animate them to press forward and make their way to the possession. Such may be some of the reasons of those varied scenes through which the people of God are doomed to make their way to glory. Often the saints find themselves unable to penetrate the design of heaven in the trials through which lies their way--especially in the hidings of God's face, so that they cannot discover him. This made no small part of Job's trial--"Behold I go forward but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him; on the left hand where he doth work, but I cannot behold him; he hideth himself on the right hand that I cannot see him." Could he have known the reasons of his trials it would have been a great consolations, but it was denied him, and the reasons of God's hiding his face from him, no less than those of his other trials. So it is also with others. The darkness which involves them makes part of their trials. It is a common trial of the saints. God will have his people "live by faith and walk by faith." To live by faith, implies want of light, and ignorance of the designs of providence. A great part of the good man's trial here, consists in trusting God without knowing why such things are required, or such trails ordered out to him. In this way the saints had great trials under the former dispensations. A veil was then spread over the method of grace, or way in which God would bring salvation to men. Even the religious rites enjoined by the law, were not understood, though they made part of the duties of every day; they remained mysterious, till Christ removed the covering cast over them; made known the hidden mystery, and opened "the way into the holiest by his blood." Under every dispensation religion greatly consists in referring every thing to God, and trusting in him, without being let into his designs, or knowing reasons of his orders. "Blessed is he who hath not seen and yet hath believed"--Blessed is he who without penetrating the designs of heaven trusts in God, and conforms to his requirements, not doubting but all will turn out right--that God will lead him in right ways, though they may be ways which he knows not. Abram discovered much of this temper--in obedience to divine order he left his father's house, and "went forth, not knowing whither he went." And afterwards, when commanded of God, he took a three days journey, to offer his son, Isaac, at the place which should be shewn him. The trial of this patriarch, recorded in the text, might be, at that time particularly necessary. God had then admitted him to special nearness; and special trials might be requisite to keep him humble, and prevent high thoughts of himself. For such is fallen human nature, that particular distinctions, even divine communications, though of grace, are apt to be abused; to foster pride! Though man is poor and dependant, pride is a sin which very easily besets him. If Paul needed something to keep him humble when favored with revelations, why not Abram? Abram was then in the body--compassed with infirmity--liable to temptation, and prone to seduction. God knew his state--corrected him therefore, to give him a sense of demerit, when he received him into covenant and engaged to be his God. Another design of his darkness and horror at that time, might be to fill him with awe and reverence of the divine majesty. Had he experienced nothing of this kind, the strange familiarity to which he had been admitted of the most high, might have diminished his fear of God, and caused him to think lightly of the great supreme. The horror and distress he now experienced might also serve to prepare him for holy joy, when God should lift on him the light of his countenance. Light and joy are most refreshing when they follow darkness and terror. Therefore the joy of those who have been pricked in their hearts for sin and made to know its exceeding sinfulness, when they are brought to hope in divine mercy, and believe themselves forgiven of God. There is reason to believe that the sorrows of this state will give a zest to the joys of heaven--the darkness of this state, to the light of that in which darkness is done away--the fear and concern here. Some think that what Abram experienced on this occasion was intended to intimate God's future dealings with his family. They were honored by being taken into covenant with God, but were to pass through the horror and darkness of Egyptian bondage--the distress of a wilderness state, and a war with the Amorites, before they should enjoy the promised land. Some conceive Abram's sufferings at this time, designed to prefigure the legal dispensation, under which his seed were to continue long and suffer many things. However this might be, we know that Abram did not find rest in this weary land, unallayed with sorrow. He was doomed to make his way through darkness, doubts and difficulties. Such was the portion of this father of the faithful, while he remained in the body and continued on trail. The same is the portion of all the saints. "This is not their rest, because it is polluted." Rest is not to be found on earth. When the remains of sin shall be purged away, there will be no more darkness, fear or horror. "The former thing will pass away" These considerations teach us what we have to expect while we tabernacle in clay--namely, trials and difficulties, doubts and darkness--these must be here our portion. Though we may be children of God, we are not to expect exemption from them till the earthly house of our tabernacle is dissolved and we are clothed on with our house which is from heaven. Those who are strangers to religion may flatter themselves that should they attain renewing grace and get evidence of it, they should no more suffer from fear or horror, or the hidings of God's face, but that God would smile incessantly upon them and cause them to go on their way rejoicing. But this is far from being the case. Though when persons first attain a hope towards God, they are glad, their joy is soon interrupted--doubts and fears arise--their way is dark--"God hideth his face that they cannot behold him. O that I were as in months past --when God preserved me--when his candle shined upon my head, and by his light I walked through darkness--when the Almighty was yet with me." This hath been the complaint of many others beside benighted Job. It is often the language of the saints while in this dark world. "God often hides his face from those whom his soul loves, so that they walk on and are sad." This makes them long for heaven, because there "will be no night there, neither sorrow, nor crying, nor any more death." In this life sanctification is imperfect. The saints carry about in them a "body of death." While this continues, they cannot have uninterrupted peace, but must have intervals of darkness and doubt. Those who have gone before us have often been troubled and distressed, and gone on their way sorrowing. This is the fruit of sin. Man was doomed to it at the apostasy. It hath been from that time the portion of humanity. None hath been exempted. Those whom St. John saw walking in white robes and rejoicing in glory, had "come out of great tribulation." We can hope for nothing better than to "be followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises." We must travel the same road and can promise ourselves no better accommodations on our journey. If Abram, the friend, of God, felt _horror of great darkness_, after he had been called of God, we have no reason to expect trials less severe. Let us not be discouraged, or saint in our minds. The way to glory lies through this dreary land--to us there is no other way. But the end will be light. If we keep heaven in our eye, and press on unmoved by the difficulties, and unawed by the dangers which lie in our way, "our labor will not be in vain in the Lord." God will be with us. He will not leave us comfortless; but will support us under difficulties and guard us to his kingdom. After we shall have suffered awhile, he will call us from our labors, and reward us with eternal rewards. "Then shall we obtain joy gladness, and sorrow and mourning shall flee away." And the time is short. "He which testifieth these things, saith, surely I come quickly. Amen." May we have such evidence of an interest in him, as may dispose us to answer, "Even so come Lord Jesus." * * * * * * SERMON VI. Divine Impartiality Considered. Romans ii. 11. "For there is no respect of persons with God." The divine impartiality is often asserted in the holy scriptures; and the assertion coincides with our natural ideas of deity. The pagans indeed attributed to their Gods, the vices, follies and weaknesses of men! But the beings whom they adored were mostly taken from among men, and might be considered as retaining human imperfections,--Had unbiased reason been consulted to find out a supreme being, a different object would have been exhibited to view. But it is natural to mankind to fancy the deity such an one as themselves. The origin of many erroneous conceptions of the divinity may be found in the persons who entertain them. To the jaundiced eye, objects appear discolored. To a mind thoroughly depraved, the source of truth may seem distorted. Therefore the hope of the Epicure--therefore the portrait which some have drawn of the divine sovereign, rather resembling an earthly despot, than the Jehovah of the bible! YET God is visible in his works and ways. "They are fools and without excuse, who say, there is no God." And as far as God appears in the works of creation and providence, he appears as he is. Passion, prejudice, or depravity may disfigure or hide him; but as far as the discoveries which God hath made of himself are received, his true character is discerned. Of this character impartiality constitutes an essential part. "God is a rock, his work is perfect; for all his ways are judgment; a God of truth, and without iniquity; just and right is he." This representation agrees with reason. According to his sense of it, every man will subscribe it. Yet different apprehensions are entertained respecting the divine impartiality, as respecting every thing else. The ideas which some receive others reject as unreasonable. This is not strange. Minds differ, no less than bodies. We propose, with deference, now to _exhibit our views of this interesting subject, the divine impartiality_, especially as it respects man. This is the branch of divine impartiality referred to in the text, and commonly in the scriptures--_There is no respect of PERSONS with God_. It is important that we form just apprehends on this subject. Mistakes might inspire groundless expectations, and occasion practical errors, dishonorable to God, and mischievous to man. But those which are just, have a tendency to produce sentiments of rational respect and reverence for the supreme Governor and to point to the way of peace and blessedness. Impartiality doth not require an equality of powers or advantages --that creatures should in this view be treated alike, or made equal. Infinite wisdom and power are not restricted to a sameness in their plastic operations, or providential apportionments. Neither is this sameness the order of heaven. The number of creatures is great. We cannot reckon them up in order; nor the different species. Among the myriads of the same species, are discriminations, sufficient to distinguish them from one another. We observe this in our race. And in the creatures beneath us. Among mankind these differences are most noticeable and most interesting. They relate to every thing which belongs to man--to the mind, and to the body, and to the powers of each--to the temper--appetites-- passions--talents--trials--opportunities, and means of information. There is in every respect an almost infinite variety--differences which run into innumerable particulars. Variety may be considered as a distinguishing trait in the works, and ways of God. And all is right. When we consider the hand of God and his providential influence in them, we seem constrained to adopt the language of the psalmist, "O Lord how many are thy works? In wisdom hast thou made them all: The earth is full of thy riches." These are displays of divine sovereignty. They are beyond our comprehension. "We see, but we understand not." Of many things brought into being by divine efficiency, we know neither the design nor use-- can only say, "Thou Lord hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created." The same observation is applicable to the different situations in which God hath placed creatures of the same class, and the different talents committed to them--God hath doubtless his reasons for these discriminations, but hath not revealed them. By nothing of this kind is the divine impartiality affected; with none of them is it concerned. God is pleased to try some with ten talents, others with five, others with only one. That "so it seems good in his sight," is all we know about it; and all we need to know. Should we attempt to pry into it, the answer given by our Lord to an officious enquirer respecting another, might be applied--"What is that to thee?" The divine impartiality is only concerned to apportion the rule of duty to the powers and advantages imparted, and to give to each one according to the manner in which he shall have conformed to the rule given to direct him, making no difference, other than they may have affected differently the parts assigned them, or had more or fewer talents. If this definition of impartiality is just, we may infer that God requires of man only "according to that which he hath;" and that in the final adjustment nothing will be done by partiality, or preferring one before another. Could not these be predicated of the supreme governor, we would not attempt to vindicate his character as an impartial being. The latter we conceive chiefly respected in the text. Shall treat of each briefly. That God requires of man only "according to that which he hath," is equally the language of reason and revelation. Our Savior teacheth, that the divine rule will be the same, in this respect, as that which governs good men--"Unto whom much is given, of him shall much be required; and to whom men have committed much, of him will they ask the more." The apostle had a particular reference in the text to the decisions at the great day, when "everyone must give account to God, and receive the deeds done in the body"--and insists that the situation in which each person had been placed, and the rule given for his direction will then be brought into the reckoning, and that each one will be judged, and his state determined by the law, under which he had lived and acted during his probation. This is the spirit of the context from verse six to the sixteenth, inclusive. "Who will render to every man according to his deeds: To them who by a patient continuance in well doing, seek for glory, and honor and immortality, eternal life: But to them that are contentious, and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, indignation and wrath; tribulation and anguish, upon every soul of man that doeth evil; of the Jew first, and also of the Gentile: But glory, and honor, and peace, to every man that worketh good; to the Jew first, and also to the Gentile. _For there is no respect of persons with God_. For as many as have sinned without law, shall also perish without law; and as many as have sinned in the law shall be judged by the law. For not the hearers of the law are just before God, but the doers of the law shall be justified. (For when the Gentiles which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these having not the law, are a law unto themselves; which shew the works of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing, or else excusing one another.) In the day when God shall judge the secrets of men, by Jesus Christ, according to my gospel." This whole paragraph is an illustration of divine justice and impartiality as exercised toward mankind. It shows that they are here for trial--that those who act uprightly will meet the divine approbation, and be rewarded with eternal rewards; but that a contentious disregard of duty, and willful continuance in known wickedness will be the object of divine indignation, which will occasion tribulation and anguish that in the decisions at the great day, family and national distinctions will be disregarded--that it will be required of every one according to the talents committed to him, and no more, whether he be Jew or Gentile. Some have doubted whether those left to the light of nature could possibly meet the divine approbation and find mercy with God; or were not doomed without remedy to suffer the vengeance of eternal fire. This we apprehend to be here determined. "Those who have not the law, may do by nature, the things contained in the law; and the doers of the law shall be justified." By "doing the law," no more is intended than acting sincerely, according to the light imparted. Perfect obedience is not attainable by imperfect creatures--cannot therefore be here intended by the apostle. His evident meaning is, that sincerity is accepted of God, and rewarded with the rewards of grace, and equally of the Gentile, as of the Jew; _for there is no respect of persons with God_. Adults, privileged with gospel light, must believe and obey the gospel. To them is that declaration addressed--"He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned." This hath no relation to those who have not the means of faith. "What the law saith, it saith to those who are under it." The same is true of the gospel. The equal justice of God in giving to every one according to his works, or to his improvement of talents, is the spirit of the text and context, and of many other scriptures. Yea, this one of those great truths which are borne on the face of revelation--"If ye call on the Father, who, _without respect of persons_, judgeth every man according to his works, pass the time of your sojourning here in fear." Some objections to the preceding definition of divine impartiality are subjoined, with very brief replies. It is said "We must be born again or we cannot see the kingdom of God," and regeneration is the work of God, or effect of divine influence. That necessary change, is indeed the work of God, but not to the exclusion of human cooperation. The holy spirit strives with all who have the means of grace. None are wholly destitute of supernal influences--of awakenings and convictions, or devoid of power to cherish or to resist them. This is intimated in the warnings to beware of grieving or quenching the spirit. Could men only oppose divine influence in renovation, they would never be exhorted of God "to make themselves new hearts, and turn themselves that they may live." * * Ezekiel xviii. 31. But natural men are said to be "dead in sin"--and can the dead do aught which tends to their own resurrection? The renewed are said to be "dead to sin"--Can they do nothing which tends to wickedness?+ Metaphors must be understood with latitude. We should involve ourselves in many absurdities, by always adhering to the literal sense of those used in scripture. Were we to adhere in all cases to the literal sense, we should believe Christ to be a rock, a door, a vine, and receive the Romish doctrine of transubstantiation. +Romans vi. 2. 11. But is not "every imagination of the thoughts of sinners hearts," said in scripture to "be only evil continually?" Such is said to have been the state of antediluvian sinners, when the spirit had ceased to strive with them, agreeably to the threatening.* * Genesis vi. 3. It is a representation of the last grade of human depravity; but not applicable to every natural man. Those who are unrenewed are not all equally depraved. Some "are not far from the kingdom of God."--In some are things lovely in the Savior's eyes. "Then Jesus, beholding him, loved him." + + Mark xii. 24. x. 21. It is further asked, Whether every motion toward a return to God, is not the effect of divine influence? And whether divine influence doth not necessarily produce effect?--We answer, To suppose man not capable of acting, but only of being acted on, or acted with, is to exculpate his enmity against God, and opposition to his law and gospel. To suppose his enmity and opposition to be the effect of divine influence, is to excuse them. Blame rests with the efficient. The creature cannot be culpable, because he is what God made him; or while he remains what he was made of God. To denominate either temper or conduct morally good or evil, consent is necessary, to suppose consent, in the creature, to be the effect of almighty power operating upon it, nullifies it to the creature, in a moral view. The work of God cannot be the sin, or holiness, of the creature. But depravity and wickedness are wrong, and criminal, apart from all consideration of their source--they are so in themselves. They cannot therefore be from God, but must have some other source. The creature which vitiates another, is viewed as culpable, though it only tempts to wickedness, which is all a creature can do to vitiate another, and leaves the tempted ability to retain integrity; what must then be our views of a being whom we conceive to produce the same effect _by an exertion of Almighty power_?--"God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man," Is it then supposeable that he can produce it by direct efficiency? But suppose him to produce it, Suppose it to derive immediately from him. Is its nature altered? Is it less criminal or odious? God forbid that we should make the supposition! It is a compound of absurdity and blasphemy! As well may we suppose the sun to diffuse darkness! They "trusted in lying words, who said of old, We are delivered to do abominations." We fear the Lord; "and will ascribe righteousness to our Maker." But doth not God choose some to eternal life, and to this end bring them into his kingdom, and leave others to perish in their sins? God chooseth those who hear his voice, and cherish the divine influences, and leaves those who refuse his grace and grieve his spirit. "Behold, I stand at the door and knock; _if any man hear my voice, and open the door_, I will come in to him, and sup with him, and he with me. Every one that asketh receiveth; hath that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocked it is opened," Asking is antecedent to receiving; seeking, to finding; and knocking is the work of those yet without. When trembling, astonished Saul, of Tarsus enquired, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" he was directed by one sent of Christ--"The Lord said to Annanias, Arise--go--enquire--for one called Saul of Tarsus: _For, behold, he prayeth_." It is further asked, Whether God doth not act as a sovereign, in his choice of those whom he sanctifies and saves? God acts as a wise and impartial sovereign. God is not a sovereign in the sense in which most earthly monarchs are so. Whim, caprice, passion, prejudice often influence their preferences of some to others. Not so the divine sovereign. There are reasons for all his discriminations. They may be veiled at present from our view; but will one day appear--"The day will declare them," and justify God in them.* *1 Corinthians iii. 13. But the elect, it is said, "are chosen from the foundations of the world; before they have done either good or evil." Election is indeed, "according to foreknowledge." "Whom God did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son." But God could not foreknow, say some, how a free moral agent would act, unless he had first determined how he should act! _A free moral agent, all whose volitions and actions, are fixed by an immutable decree_! We are ignorant how God knows, or how he foreknows. Perhaps past and future relate only to creatures, Every thing may be present to the divine mind--with God there may be _an eternal Now_. "Beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." Much which is known to us, is locked up from creatures below us--they can form no ideas about it. Still less do we know of God, or the manner of the divine perceptions. The distance between God and us, is infinitely greater than between us and creatures of the lowest grade. It is therefore impossible for us to make deductions from the divine perceptions, or determine any thing about them. When tempted to it we should remember the caution given by Zophar,--"Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty to perfection? It is high as heaven; what canst thou do? deeper than hell; what canst thou know?" * * Job xi. 7, 8. But as the whole human race are sinners, deserving only of punishment, is not God at liberty to choose from among them, whom he pleaseth to sanctify and save, and pass by, and leave whom he pleaseth, to punish in their sins? We have no claim on divine justice. All mankind might have been left to perish. But they are not thus left of God, He hath found a ransom; and offers salvation to all. No differences will be eventually made among men without reasons. And the reasons will be in them--_For there is no respect of persons with God_. But suppose two persons to be equally guilty and deserving of condemnation, may not God make one of them a vessel of mercy, and the other a vessel of wrath? Would the latter have occasion to complain? Or could injustice be charged on God? We should not dare to charge him with injustice, did we know such a case to happen--neither do we presume to determine what God hath aright to do. But we are sure that no such case ever will happen--that God will not make an eventual difference in those who are alike, for _there is no respect of persons with God_. Some may find mercy who may appear to us less guilty than some others who may perish in their sins. But it belongs not to us to estimate comparative guilt. It requires omniscience. "The judge of all the earth will do right." INFERENCES Mankind are here on trial. Different talents are committed to them. God acts as a sovereign in apportioning betrustments, and will observe exact impartiality in adjusting retributions. The idea of talents implies ability to improve them. Gospel applications speak such to be our state--they are adopted to no other state. The fatalist, and those who conceive every human volition and action to be the effect of divine agency, have no rational motive, to do, or suffer for religion. "Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die." However we may amuse ourselves with idle speculations, this life is approbation season.--Our use or abuse of the talents we possess will determine us to happiness, or misery, honor or infamy. "All have sinned, and are guilty before God--In his sight shall no man living be justified"--our sole desert is punishment. But God hath had mercy on us--provided a Savior, and offers us salvation. The offer is universal--"Whosoever will let him come." That _there is no respect of persons with God_, is alike the dictate of reason and revelation, We have only to act with integrity before God, relying, on his grace in Christ, and his grace will be sufficient for us. The man who had the one talent, neglected it, under pretence that he served a hard master, who required things unreasonable and impossible --he was condemned; but _only_ for neglecting the talent which he possessed. It is required of a man according to that which he hath--this he can render--the neglect will be fatal. We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that we may receive the deeds done in the body, according to that which we have done, whether good or bad. For God will bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or evil. An unseen hand is constantly writing down our volitions and actions, to be reserved to judgment. Ere long the books will be opened, which will open every heart, and life. Not a circumstance which goes to constitute a state of trial, will be omitted--all will be brought into the reckoning, and serve to determine our eternal state. That state will be determined by the use which we shall have made of life, and the advantages which we enjoyed in it. The divine impartiality will then appear--"The ungodly will be convinced of their ungodly deeds--and of their hard speeches, which they have spoken against God." None will complain of injustice--none of the condemned pretend that they receive aught, which others circumstanced as they were, and acting as they acted, would not have received from the hand that made them. "Every mouth will be stopped." This, fellow mortals is our seed time for eternity. "Be not deceived; God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also of the Lord, whether he be bond or free--every man shall receive his own reward, according to his own labor." Not only the state into which we are to enter at death, but the rank we are to hold in it depend on present improvement. All the sanctified will be saved; all who die unrenewed will be damned. But there will be different grades, both in the upper and lower worlds. Of the saints, some "will be scarcely saved." To others "will be ministered an abundant entrance into the kingdom of Christ." There are also greatest and least in the kingdom of heaven. And among those exiled the world of light, differences will be made, suited to the different degrees of criminality. Capernaum will receive a more intolerable doom than Sodom.* * Matthew xi. 23, 24. All these discriminations will be built on the present life, and rise out of it. This will be so abundantly manifested, "when God shall judge the world in righteousness," that an assembled universe will confess, That _there is no respect of persons with God_. * * * * * * SERMON VII. Moses' Prayer to be blotted out of God's Book. Exodus xxxii. 31, 32. "And Moses returned unto the Lord and said, 'Oh! this people have made them gods of gold. Yet now, if thou wilt, forgive their sin; and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book which thou hast written.'" This is one of the most difficult passages in the holy scriptures. Many haven attempted to explain it, and in our apprehension, failed in the attempt. Some will entertain like opinion of the following. Perhaps justly. We are no less fallible than others. In matters which have engaged the attention of the learned, and in which they have differed, assurance is not perhaps to be expected. But as we are forbidden to call any man master, we have ventured to judge for ourselves respecting the meaning of the text, and now lay before the reader the result of our attention to it; not wishing to obtrude our opinion upon him; but leaving him to form his own as he may find occasion. Some suppose that a person must be willing to be damned for the glory of God, or he cannot be saved; and this scripture hath been alleged in proof. After a few observations, _to shew that the supposition is erroneous and absurd; we shall exhibit the various constructions which have been put on the text, by several expositors; then give our own sense of it; and close with a few reflections_. The supposition that man must be willing to be damned, in order to be saved, is in our apprehension, erroneous and absurd. It supposes a desire of God's favor to be an unpardonable offence; and a contempt of it a recommendation to his regard! It supposes that God will banish those from his presence who long for it; and bring those to dwell in it who do not desire it! A supposition, which, in our view, carries its own confutation in it. For the all important inquiry is, confessedly, how to obtain salvation? The solution which the supposition exhibits, is this, _by being willing not to obtain it_! God cannot issue an order, making it the duty of man to be willing to be damned. To be willing to be damned, implies a willingness to disobey God, refuse his grace, and continue in unbelief and impenitence! Should we suppose it possible for God to issue the order, obedience would be impossible, and equally to those of every character. The hardened sinner, cannot be thought capable of love to God, which will dispose him to suffer eternally for God's glory. He may do that which will occasion eternal sufferings, but not out of obedience to God--not with design to glorify him. Neither can the awakened sinner be considered as the subject of such love of God. They see indeed the evil. Awakened Sinners are not lovers of God. They see indeed the evil of sin, and are sensible of its demerit? that they deserve destruction. But this doth not reconcile them to destruction, and make them willing to receive it. They tremble at the thoughts of it, strive against sin, and cry after deliverance. Were they willing to be damned, they would not be afraid of being damned, or seek in anyway to avoid it. It is equally impossible for the saint to be reconciled to damnation as will appear, by considering what it implies. It implies the total loss of the divine image, and banishment from the divine presence and favor! It implies being given up to the power of apostate spirits, and consigned to the same dreary dungeon of despair and horror, which is prepared for them! It implies being doomed to welter in woe unutterable, blaspheming God, and execrating the creatures of God, "world without end!" When people pretend that they are willing to be damned for the glory of God, they "know--not what they say nor whereof they affirm." They leave out the principal ingredients of that dreadful state. Bid they take them into the account, they would perceive the impossibility of the thing. To suppose it required is to blaspheme God--to pretend that man can submit to it, is to belie human nature--to conceive that a child of God can reconcile himself to it, is to subvert every just idea of true religion. To require it, God must deny himself! To consent to it, man must consent to become an infernal! The statement of the case is a refutation of the scheme. But if God's glory requires it, will not this reconcile the good and gain their consent? God's glory doth not--cannot require it. "The spirit of the Lord is not straightened." Human guilt and misery are not necessary to God's honor. It is necessary that divine justice should be exercised on those who refuse divine grace; but not necessary that men should refuse divine grace. "As I live, saith the Lord God. I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live." Such is the language of revelation; and the measures which God hath adopted relative to our guilty race speak the same language. He hath provided a city of refuge, and urges the guilty to "turn to the strong hold."--He weeps over obstinate sinners who refuse his grace? "How shall I give thee up? How shall I deliver thee?" But rejoiceth over the penitent, as the father rejoiced over the returning prodigal. God would not have provided a Savior, and made indiscriminate offers of pardon and peace had he chosen the destruction of sinners, and had their ruin been necessary to his honor. But God hath done these things, and manifested his merciful disposition toward mankind. We have no need to "do evil that good may come. Our unrighteousness is not necessary to commend the righteousness of God." How then, are we to understand the prayer of Moses, placed at the head of this discourse--_blot me, I pray that, out of thy book which than hast written_? As this is one of the principal passages of scripture which are adduced to support the sentiment we have exploded, a few things may be premised, before we attempt to explain it. I. Should it be admitted that Moses here imprecated utter destruction on himself, it could not be alleged as a precept given to direct others, but only as a solitary incident, in the history of a saint, who was then compassed with infirmity. And where is the human character without a shade? This same Moses neglected to circumcise his children--broke the tables of God's law--spake unadvisedly with his lips--yea, committed such offences against God, that he was doomed to die short of Canaan, in common with rebellious Israel. II. The time--in which it hath been particularly insisted that a person must be willing to be damned for God's glory, is at his entrance on a slate of grace; but Moses had been consecrated to the service of God long before he made this prayer. Nothing, therefore respecting the temper of those under the preparatory influences of the spirit can be argued from it. III. Should we grant that Moses here imprecated on himself the greatest evil, a sense of other people's sins, and not a sense of his own sins, was the occasion. But, IV. No sufferings of his could have been advantageous to others, had be submitted to them for their sake. Had he consented to have been a castaway--to have become an infernal, as we have seen implied in damnation, this would not have brought salvation to Israel. Moses' hatred of God, and his sufferings and blasphemies, would not have atoned for the sins of his people, or tended in any degree to turn away the wrath of God from them. It seems surprizing that the whole train of expositors should consider this good man as imprecating evil on himself for the good of others, when it is obvious that others could not have been benefited by it. For though expositors differ respecting the magnitude of the evil, they seem to agree that he did wish evil to himself, and pray that he might suffer for his people! We have seen no expositor who is an exception. But let us attend to the prayer. _Oh! this people have sinned a great sin; yet now, if thou will, forgive their sin; and if not, blot me, I prey thee, out of thy book_. We know the occasion. Israel had fallen into idolatry while Moses was on the mount--had made an idol, and bowed in adoration before it. God told Moses what they had done--threatened to destroy them--excused Moses from praying for them, which had before been his duty, and promised to reward his faithfulness among so perverse a people, if he would now "hold his peace, and let God alone to destroy them." But Moses preferred the good of Israel to the aggrandisement of his own family, earnestly commended them to the divine mercy, and obtained the forgiveness of their sin--"The Lord repented of the evil which he thought to do unto them." But he gave at that time no intimation of his merciful purpose toward them. When Moses came down and found the congregation holding a feast to their idol, he was filled with grief and indignation; and took measures immediately to punish their sin and bring them to repentance. He first destroyed their idol and then about three thousands of the idolaters, by the sword of Levi, who at his call, ranged themselves on the Lord's side. The next day, fearing that God would exterminate the nation, agreeably to his threatening, Moses gathered the tribes, set their sin before them, and told them that he would return to the divine presence and plead for them, though he knew not that God would hear him. "Ye have sinned a great sin; and now I will go up unto the Lord; _peradventure_ I shall make an atonement for your sin. _And Moses returned unto the Lord and said, Oh! this people have sinned a great sin, and have made them gods of gold. Yet, now, if thou wilt, forgive their sin; and if not blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book which thou hast written_." Moses meaning, while praying for Israel, is obvious; but the petition offered up for himself is not equally so--_blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book_. Four different constructions have been put on the is prayer--Some consider Moses as imprecating damnation on himself, for the good of his people--Some as praying for annihilation, that they might find mercy--Some as asking God that he might die with them, if they should die in the wilderness--Others, that his name might be blotted out of the page of history, and his memory perish, should Israel be destroyed and not reach the promised land. "Blot me" (saith Mr. Cruden) "out of thy book of life--out of the catalogue, or number of those that shall be saved--wherein Moses does not express what he thought might be done, but rather wisheth, if it were possible, that God would accept of him as a sacrifice in their stead, and by his destruction and annihilation, prevent so great a mischief to them." * * Vid. Concordance, under BLOT. Docr. S. Clark expresseth his sense of the passage to nearly the same effect. Did Moses then ask to be made an expiatory sacrifice for the sin of Israel! Or did he solemnly ask of God what he knew to be so unreasonable that it could not be granted! There is no hint in the account given of this affair, that Moses entertained a thought of being accepted in Israel's stead. He did not ask to suffer _that they might escape_--he prayed _to be blotted out of God's book_, if his people could not be forgiven--_If thou wilt, forgive their sin; and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book which thou hast written_. Mr. Pool considers Moses as praying to be annihilated that Israel might be pardoned! "Blot me out of the book of life--out of the catalogue, or number of those that shall be saved. I suppose Moses doth not wish his eternal damnation, because that state would imply both wickedness in himself and dishonor to God; but his annihilation, or utter lose of this life, and that to come, and all the happiness of both of them. Nor doth Moses simply desire this, but only comparatively expresseth his singular zeal for God's glory, and charity to his people; suggesting that the very thoughts of the destruction of God's people, and the reproach and blasphemy which would be cast upon God by means thereof, were so intolerable to him, that he rather wished, if it were possible, that God would accept him as a sacrifice in their stead, and by his utter destruction prevent so great a mischief." * * Vid. Pool in locum. Could the learned and judicious Mr. Pool seriously believe that inspired Moses prayed for annihilation! Or consider him as entertaining a suspicion that a soul could cease to exist! Or could he conceive him as deliberately asking of God to make him an expiatory sacrifice! Or harboring a thought that the sin of his people might be atoned by his being blotted out from among God's works!--Strange! Mr. Henry considers Moses as praying to die with Israel, if they must die in the wilderness.--"If they must be cut off, let me be cut off with them--let not the land of promise be mine by survivorship. God had told Moses, that if he would not interpose, he would make him a great nation--No said Moses, I am so far from desiring to see my name and family, built on the ruins of Israel, that I choose rather to die with them." * * Vid. Henry in loc. If such is the spirit of this prayer, Moses does not appear resigned to the divine order, but rather peevish and fretful at the disappointment of his hope, which he had till then entertained. He had expected to lead Israel to the land of promise; if not indulged, seems not to have cared what became of himself or his family; and is thought here to address his maker, offering distinguishing favors to him, as Daniel did Belthazzar--"thy gifts be to thyself, and give thy rewards to another--I desire none of them for myself or mine--If Israel die in the wilderness, let me die with them"--From angry Jonah such a reply to the kind offers of a gracious God might not surprize us; but it was not to have been expected from the meekest of mankind. DOCT. HUNTER, in his biographical lectures, explodes this idea of Moses' asking to be damned for the salvation of Israel, and shews the absurdity of that construction of the text, but understands him as praying to die himself, before sentence should be executed on his people, if they were not pardoned. And in the declaration, _whosoever hath sinned against me, him will I blot out of my book_, he discovers an intimation, that that offending people should die short of the promised land! A discovery without a clew. This sin of Israel was pardoned. Sentence of death in the wilderness was occasioned by a subsequent act of rebellion, as will be shewn in the sequel.* * Vid. Hunter's Lect. Vol. iv. Lect. iv Mr. Fismin considers Moses as here praying to be blotted out of the page of history, if Israel were not pardoned; so that no record of his name, or the part which he had acted in the station assigned him, should he handed down to posterity. An exposition differing from the plain language of sacred history--_Blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book, which thou hast written_. The page of history is written by man. Such are the constructions which have been put on this scripture. The considerations which have been suggested, oblige us to reject them all, as founded in mistake. Our sense of the passage, and the reasons, which in our apprehension, support it, will be the subject of another discourse. * * * * * * SERMON VIII. Moses' Prayer to be blotted out of God's Book. Exodus xxxii. 31, 32. "And Moses returned unto the Lord and said. Oh! this people have sinned a great sin, and have made them gods of gold. Yet now, if thou--wilt, forgive their sin; and if not, blot me, I pray they, out of thy book which than hast written." In the preceding discourse we endeavored to show that the idea of being willing to be damned for the glory of God is not found in the text--that the sentiment is erroneous and absurd--then adduced the constructions which have been put on the text by sundry expositors, and offered reasons which oblige us to reject them as misconstructions. It remains, _to give our sense of the passage--the grounds on which it rests--and some reflections by way of improvement_. As _to our sense of the passage_--We conceive these puzzling words of Moses to be no other than a prayer for himself--that his sins which might stand charged against him in the book of God, might _be blotted out_, however God might deal with Israel. "SINS are compared to debts, which are written in the creditor's book, and crossed, or blotted out, when paid.* Man's sins are written in the book of God's remembrance, or accounts; out of which all men shall be judged hereafter.+ And when sin is pardoned it is laid to be blotted out.++ And not to be found any more, though sought for." +++ * Matthew vi. 32. + Revelations xix. 12. ++ Isaiah xliv. 22. +++ Jeremiah l. 20.--Vid. Cruden's Concord. under BLOT. When a debtor hath paid a debt, we are at no loss for his meaning, if he requests to be crossed, or blotted out of the creditor's book; nor would doubt arise should one to whom a debt was forgiven prefer like petition. "You will please to blot me out of your book." Though Moses had taken no part in this sin of Israel. he knew himself a sinner; and when praying for others: it is not likely he would forget himself. The occasion would naturally suggest the value, yea the necessity of forgiveness, and dispose him to ask it of God. When others are punished, or but just escape punishment, we commonly look at home, and consider our own state; and if we see ourselves in danger, take measures to avoid it. To a sinner the only way of safety is, repairing to divine mercy, and obtaining a pardon. That Moses would be excited to this by a view of Israel, at this time, is a reasonable expectation. That such was the purpose of Moses' prayer for himself is clearly indicated by the answer which was given to it--For the _blotting out of God's book_, is doubtless to be understood in the same sense in the prayer, and in the answer; and the latter explains the former. _Oh! this people have sinned a great sin--Yet now, if thou wilt, forgive their sin; and if not_--if thou wilt not forgive their sin --_blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book, which thou hast written. And the Lord said unto Moses_, WHOSOEVER _hath sinned against me, HIM will I blot out of my book_: THEREFORE _now go lead the people unto the place of which I have spoken unto thee_. The passage thus presented to our view, seems scarcely to need a comment; but such sad work hath been made of this text, and such strange conclusions been drawn from it that it may be proper to subjoin a few remarks. That God had threatened to "destroy that people and blot out their name from under heaven"--that Moses had prayed for them--and that "the Lord had repented of the evil which he thought to do unto them" we have seen above. And here Moses is ordered to resume his march, and carry up the tribes to the promised land, and the reason is assigned-- "_whosoever_ hath sinned against me, him will I blot out of my book, _therefore_, now go lead the people to the place of which I have spoken unto thee." When we thus view the subject can a doubt remain respecting the sense of this text? (But keeping in view the reason here assigned for the renewed order given to Moses to conduct the tribes to Canaan, namely, God's determination _to blot of his book--whosoever had sinned against him_, in this affair) let us try it in the different senses which have been put upon it. I. We will suppose _blotting out of God's book_, to mean destroying soul and body in hell. The divine determination to shew no mercy to Israel, is then the reason assigned for the order here given to Moses. The prayer and answer stand thus--_Now if thou wilt, forgive this people_--Answer--_I will not hear thy prayer for them--no mercy shall be shewn them, but utter, eternal destruction be their portion_-- THEREFORE _now go lead them to the promised land_! II. Suppose _blotting out of God's book_ to mean annihilation, and his answer to the prayer stands thus--_I will destroy this people, and blot them from among my works_--THEREFORE _go lead them to the place of which I have spoken unto thee_! III. Suppose with Mr. Henry, and Doct. Hunter, that it is to be understood of destruction in the wilderness, and the answer stands thus--_My wrath shall wax hot against Israel and consume them--they shall all die in the wilderness_, THEREFORE, _now go lead them to Canaan_! The whole people, save Moses and Joshua, seem to have participated in the revolt. We have no account of another exception; _and whosoever had sinned, God would blot out of his book_. Surely had either of these been the meaning of _blotting out of God's book_, it would not have been given as the reason for Moses' resuming his march and carrying up the tribes to the land of promise. Common sense revolts at the idea. But if we understand _blotting out of God's book_ in the sense we have put upon it, we see at once the propriety of the order given to Moses, founded on this act of grace. God's having "repented of the evil which he thought to do unto them." If this is the meaning of the words, the answer to Moses' prayer amounts to this--"I have heard and hearkened to your prayer, and pardoned the sin of this people, proceed _therefore_ in your march, and lead them to the place of which I have spoken unto thee." The _therefore go now_, doth not surprize us. We see the order rise out of the divine purpose; but on any of the other constructions of the text, thwarts and contradicts it; or cannot surely be assigned as the reason of it. SEVERAL other considerations illustrate the subject, and confirm our construction of it. When Moses returned to intercede for Israel, he certainly asked of God to pardon their sin. _Oh! this people have sinned a great sin, and have made them gods of gold--Yet now, if than wilt forgive their sin_ --That he was heard and obtained his request appears not only from the history contained in our context, but from Moses' rehearsal of it just before his death. He recounted the dealings of God with Israel, when taking his leave of them on the plains of Moab--In that valedictory discourse he reminded them of their sin on this occasion--of God's anger against them--his threatening to destroy them, and how he pleaded with God in their behalf, and the success which attended his intercessions for them--"I was afraid of the anger and hot displeasure wherewith the Lord was wroth with you, to destroy you, but _the Lord hearkened unto me at that time also_." * * Deuteronomy ix. 19. Sentence of death in the wilderness was afterwards denounced against those sinners, and executed upon them, but not to punish this sin; but the rebellion which was occasioned by the report made by the spies who were sent to search out the land. On that occasion Moses prayed fervently for his people, and not wholly without effect--God had threatened to "smite them with the pestilence, and disinherit them," but receded from his threatening through the prevalence of that intercessor in their behalf--"the Lord said I have pardoned according to thy word;" but at the same time, denounced an irrevokable sentence of death in the wilderness against those rebels. Then Moses was not ordered to "lead the people to the place of which God had spoken," but commanded to go back into the wilderness which they had parted--"turn you, and get ye into the wilderness by the way of the red sea." + + Numbers xiv. At that time, the exception from the general sentence, was not in favor of Moses and Joshua, who had been on the mount, and taken no part in Israel's sin in making the golden calf, but in favor of Caleb and Joshua, who dissented from the report made by the other spies; though no intimation is given that Caleb was not with the people, and did not sin with them in the matter of the golden calf. There is therefore no doubt respecting the sin which shut that generation out of Canaan. Nor do we apprehend more occasion for doubt relative to the prayer of Moses, _to be blotted out of God's book_. But though the sin of Israel on this occasion was pardoned, and Moses ordered to lead them to Canaan, some temporal chastisements were inflicted to teach the evil of sin, and serve as a warning to others to keep themselves in the fear of God; of which Moses was notified when ordered to advance with the pardoned tribes? "Nevertheless, in the day when I visit, I will visit their sin upon them. And the Lord plagued the people because they had made the calf which Aaron made." The manner in which this is mentioned, shows that their sin in that affair was forgiven, and only some lighter corrections ordered in consequence of it; which is common after sin is pardoned. REFLEXIONS. I. When we consider Moses pouring out his soul before God in behalf of an offending people, it should excite us, as there may be occasion, to go and do likewise. Some pretend that prayer offered up for others, must be unavailing. God, it is alleged, is immutable, not therefore to be moved to change his measures by a creature's cries. And prayer for others can have no tendency, it is said, to operate a change in them, so as to bring them into the way of mercy, and render them fit objects of it. We would only observe in reply, that God hath made it our duty to "pray one for another," * And scripture abounds with records of the prevalence of such intercessions. We have a striking influence in our subject--Moses prayed for Israel and was heard--"The Lord hearkened unto me at that time also." It doth not appear that Israel joined with Moses in his pleadings at the throne of grace on this occasion. Moses went up into the mount, leaving Israel on the plain below--"I will go up unto the Lord; peradventure I shall make an atonement for your sin. And Moses returned unto the Lord," and pleaded in their behalf. By his individual power, he seems to have prevailed. This is only one instance out of many which might be adduced from the history of the saints--of this saint in particular. Yea, there seems to have been such power in the pleadings of this man of God, _while praying for others_, that when God would enter into judgment with them, Moses must be prevailed with to hold his peace, and not pray for them! "The Lord spake unto me saying, I have seen this people, and behold it is a stiff necked people. _Let me alone_ that I may destroy them--_and I will make of thee a nation mightier and greater than they_." Let me alone! As though God could not destroy them without Moses' consent!-- And I will make of thee a nation mightier and greater than they! As though Moses must be bribed to silence, ere judgment could proceed against them! * James v. 16. This representation is not to be received without restriction; but we may safely infer that "the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much"--that it often draws down blessings from above on those who deserve no good. This should encourage us to wrestle with God in prayer, for the effusions of his grace on those who deserve judgment without mercy, and who might receive it from the righteous sovereign, did the righteous hold their peace, and "let him alone." II. When we witness this holy many [sic] praying _to be blotted out of God's book which he had written_, it should remind us of our state as sinners whose only hope is mercy. "Moses' was faithful in all God's house." His attainments in the divine life were scarcely equaled; yet must have perished forever had forgiving grace been denied him. He knew his state; and a view of Israel's danger called home his thoughts and led him to implore divine mercy for himself, though he should fail to obtain it for an ungrateful people. "Oh! forgive the sin of this people, but if not, forgive my sin--pardoning grace is all my dependence--hope would fail should it be denied me." If Moses was thus conscious of guilt, who can say "I have made my heart clean, I am pure from my sin?--O Lord, enter not into judgment with thy servant; for in thy sight shall no man living be justified-- there is not a just man upon earth, who doeth good and sinneth not." While praying for others, it ill becomes us to forget ourselves. Are we by office appointed to ask mercy for others and bear them on our hearts before God? We must not therefore conclude that mercy is not necessary for us. Like the high priests of old, "We must offer, first for own sins, and then for the people's." There is only one intercessor to whom this is needless. Witnessing the sin and danger of others, should stir us up to the duty, as it did this leader of Israel. While crying to God for others, we must beware wrapping up ourselves in fancied purity. To this we are tempted by a view of greater sins in others, which serve as a foil to act off our fancied goodness; and especially by the knowledge of certain great sins in others, of which we know ourselves to be clear. Some in Moses' situation, would doubtless have adopted that language --"God I thank thee that I am not as other men are--not as this people." Very different was the effect it had on him--it reminded him of his sins, and led him to cry for mercy. It is of vast importance that we know ourselves--if we attain this knowledge, from sense of demerit, we shall add to our prayers for others, _but if not, blot me, I pray thee out of thy book which thou hast written_. III. If we do not mistake the sense of the text, the strange doctrine exploded in the beginning of this discourse, finds no support in it. And surely the doctrine which reason rejects cannot be supported by revelation. Reason directs us to pursue that line of conduct which will be most for our advantage taking the whole term of our existence into the account. And revelation doth the same--"in keeping God's commandments there is great reward." If we look through the holy scriptures we shall find abundant rewards annexed to every requirement. The idea that despising the promises, and being willing to renounce the desire and hope of them, should be made a condition of receiving them, is pitiable weakness and absurdity. Quite a different spirit is displayed in the history of the saints, whom we are directed to follow. All the worthies of old "died in faith not having received the promises, but seen them afar off."--The renowned leader of Israel "had respect to the recompense of reward" --yea, "the captain of our salvation," the divine son of Mary, "for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame." * * Hebrews xi. 26, xii. 2. Here the way of duty requires self denials. The good man is often called to take up his cross; but the rewards which follow are constantly held up to view, in revelation, as infinitely surpassing the losses and sufferings of the present life. "Blessed are ye when men shall revile and persecute you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake: Rejoice and be exceeding glad; for great is your reward in heaven." Every one who forsaketh worldly advantages, out of regard to God, will "receive an hundred fold reward, and inherit eternal life." This was made known to the primitive Christians. Therefore their fortitude and zeal to do and suffer in the cause of God--"Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.--I reckon the sufferings of the present time, not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." Totally groundless and unjust, was that charge--"I knew thee that thou art an hard man." We serve a just, a kind, a good master. Even a cup of cold water, given, out of love to him, will in no wise go unrewarded--he asks no sacrifice of us for nought. Much less that we would sacrifice ourselves, and be castaways. "Those who honor him, he will honor." The slaves of Satan are repaid with misery; but not so the servants of God. "He is not unrighteous to forget our labor of love." These things are revealed for our encouragement and support. Yea, God hath "given us exceeding great and precious promises; that by these we might be partakers of the divine nature--let us therefore be steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, for as much as we know that our labor is not in vain in the Lord." * * * * * * SERMON IX. St. Paul's Wish to be accursed from Christ. Romans ix. 3 "For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh." Few characters more remarkable than that of St. Paul, are to be found in history. He is introduced to our acquaintance on a tragical occasion--the martyrdom of Stephen, where he appears an accomplice with murderers--"he was standing by and consenting to his death, and kept the raiment of them that slew him." The circumstances of Paul's conversion to Christianity were very remarkable, and afford strong evidence of its truth. He was not an ignorant youth, who could be easily deluded. He had all the advantages of education which that enlightened age afforded. He was born indeed at Tarsus, a city of Cilicia; but sent to Jerusalem for an education, and "brought up at the feet of Gamaliel," a famous Jewish Rabbi, who is said to have been many years president of the Sanhedrin; and renowned for wisdom and erudition. Paul's mind was not only early imbued with general science, but he was particularly instructed in the Jews' religion, and became a zealous member of the pharisaic sect--verily believed the truth to be with them--thought it to be his duty to inculcate their sentiments, both scriptural and traditionary, and oppose all who did not fall in with their views, and help to increase their influence, and spread their principles. Therefore his hatred of Christianity, and determination to destroy it from its foundation--Therefore his implacable aversion to Christians, and unwearied endeavors to reduce them from the faith, or compel them to blaspheme, or where he failed in those attempts, to destroy them from the earth. But lo! the triumphs of divine grace! This arch enemy, while pursuing the followers of the Lamb, even to strange cities, is met by the glorified redeemer, while on his way to Damascus, whither he was going, "breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples!" Arrested in his course! Convinced of his madness! Brought to believe on that Jesus whom he had reviled and blasphemed! And even changed into a preacher of that gospel which he had been so eager to destroy! We know the strange process by which these events were effected--how this proud adversary was subdued and melted into a humble, penitent believer! We know the zeal with which he entered on the gospel ministry--what he did--what he suffered, to build up the cause he had destroyed! How he persevered to the end, and sealed his testimony with his blood!--What a trophy of divine power and mercy! "These were the Lord's doings, and marvelous in our eyes." But why marvelous? Why should we wonder when we consider the agent? God is wont to subvert the purposes of his enemies; and often uses those means and instruments which were prepared and intended against him, to accomplish his purposes. Egypt is said, at a particular period, to have dreaded a deliverer, then expected to arise in Israel--therefore the edict for thy destruction of the male children which should be born to the Hebrews, thinking to destroy the deliverer among them. But while that edict was in operation, as though in contempt of infernal malice, and Egyptian policy, Moses, the savior of his people, was born. And mark what followed. Lo! The daughter of Pharaoh becomes his mother. The house of Pharaoh his asylum! The learned Magi of that hostile empire, his instructors! And all to fit him for the work for which heaven designed him. * * Hunter Vol. ii. Lect. xviii. So here; this Moses of the New Testament--this destined chieftain among Christians, is educated among Pharisees; the great enemies of Christ--instructed by their greatest teacher--inspired with a double portion of their zeal and rancor against the cause of the Redeemer, and sent forth to destroy. But lo! This mighty Abaddan of diabolical and Jewish malice, is arrested in his course--changed into another man, and all his zeal and learning from that hour directed to buildup the cause of God! The energy instructed and furnished, but heaven directed the use and application! God's purposes stand and will stand. None can stay his hand, or reverse his decrees. The means chosen to subvert, are used to build his cause and kingdom. "He taketh the wise in their own craftiness, and the purposes of the froward are carried headlong." While Paul remained a Pharisee he was the idol of his nation; but no sooner did he become a Christian, than their love was turned to hatred. No other was so abhorred as he. Against no other did they unite with such determined rancor. Numbers soon leagued together, and even "bound themselves under a curse not to eat or drink till they had slain him." But all their machinations were vain. "Obtaining help from God, of whom he was a chosen vessel, to bear his name to the Gentiles, and kings, and the people of Israel," he continued many years, and did, perhaps, more than any other perform in the cause of Christ. Jewish rancor towards him never abated, but he caught no share of their bitter spirit? the temper of Christ governed in him? he loved his enemies, and did them good. Like another Moses he bore Israel on his heart before God, and made daily intercession for them, weeping at a view of their sad state, and the evils coming upon them. Such is the spirit of the context. "I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost that I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart.--_for I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ, for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh_". The depressing occasion of his grief, was the infidelity and obduracy of his nation--that they refused to hearken to reason and evidence --were resolved to reject the only Savior; and the evils temporal and eternal, which he foresaw their temper and conduct would bring upon them--therefore his "great heaviness and continual sorrow." In the text--_I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ, for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh_, the apostle hath been thought to imprecate evil on himself for the benefit of his people! All the expositors we have seen on this passage, conceive him to have wished some sore calamity to himself for the advantage of his nation! Though they have differed respecting the magnitude of the evil which he wished to suffer for their sake. Doct. Doddridge considers him, as "wishing to be made a curse for them, as Christ hath been made a curse for us, that so they might be delivered from the guilt which they had brought on themselves, and be entitled to the blessings of the rejected gospel." Doct. S. Clark views him, as "desirous of suffering the calamities to which his people were doomed for rejecting and crucifying the Savior, so that, could they all centre in one person, he wished to be the person, that he might thereby procure salvation for them!" Grotius and Pool understand him, as "wishing to be separated from the church of Christ for the sake of the Jews!" Which differs little from Doct. Hunter's sense of the passage--to which Doct. Guyse adds, "a desire of every indignity of man, and to be cut off from communion with Christ, for the sake of Israel;" whom he strangely considers as prejudiced against Christianity in consequence of their prejudices against Paul! But why should the apostle wish evil to himself for their sakes? What possible advantage could his sufferings have been to his nation? Is it possible that those learned expositors should conceive that pains and penalties inflicted on him could have made atonement for their sins, and expiated their guilt! They must never have read Paul's epistles or never have entered into the spirit of them, who could entertain such views as these; or even suspect that aught, save the blood of Christ, can atone for human guilt. It is strange, therefore, that they could have imagined that he wished to suffer with this view. And it is no less so, that it should be thought that prejudices against Paul could have occasioned Jewish prejudices against Christianity, when it is so evident that their prejudices against Paul were wholly occasioned by his attachment to Christianity--he having been high in their esteem till he became a Christian. David once asked to suffer in Israel's stead; but the circumstances of the case were then totally different from those of the case now before us. Israel were suffering _for his sin_ in numbering the people; "I have sinned and done wickedly; but these sheep, what have they done? Let thine hand, I pray thee be against me."--But Paul had not sinned, to bring evil on his people--the guilt was all their own. Expositors having mistaken Moses' prayer "to be bloated out of God's book," seem generally to have had that prayer in their eye when they have attempted to explain the text; and supposing that Moses prayed to be made sacrifice for Israel, have thought that Paul had the same spirit, and here followed his example! But that neither of them ever entertained the thought of suffering to expiate the sin of their people, and that the two passages bear no kind of relation to each other, we conceive indubitably certain. But let us consider the text and judge for ourselves the meaning. Perhaps the difficulties which have perplexed it may have chiefly arisen from the translation. The silence of expositors on this head, while puzzled with the passage, is strange, if the difficulty might have been obviated by amending to the original. The translation is plausible solely from this consideration. Mr. Pool is the only expositor we have ever seen, who hath noted the difference between the translation and the original; and he labors hard to bring them together, but, in our apprehension, labors it in vain. The passage literally translated stands thus? _For I myself boasted that I was a curse from Christ, above my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh_. * * * * * * * _Euxoman gar autos ego anathema einai apo tou xristou uper tou adelphon mou suggenon mou kata sarxa_. _Euxoman_, rendered in translation by _I could wish_ forms in the imperfect of the indicative mood, in the Auic dialect. Mr. Pool was too accurate a scholar not to observe the disagreement of the translation with the original. Some read it as in the indicative; but it is generally considered as in the optative, and altered by a figure which takes on _iota_ from the middle, and cuts an _an_ end of the word forming _Euxoman_, instead of _auxoiman an_. + But what warrant have we for these alterations? They only serve to darken a difficult text. The most natural and common construction of _euxoman_, derives, is, to glory or boast. _Gloriar_ is the first word used to express the meaning of it in Schrevelius' Lexicon; and the meaning _euxos_, the theme of this verb justifies the construction, in preference to that used by the translators. And the Greek preposition _uper_, which is rendered for, is often used to signify above, or more than. + Vid. Pool in loc. * * * * * For the justice of the criticisms we appeal to the learned. If they are just, our sense of the text will be admitted. If we consider the context, and the part which had been formerly acted by the apostle, it will not be difficult to ascertain his meaning, nor strange that he should express himself as in the text. He begins the chapter with strong expressions of concern for his nation, who had rejected him "whose name alone is given under heaven," for the salvation of men. If they continued to neglect the grace offered them in the gospel, he knew that they could not escape. And when he looked on them and mourned over them, the dangers which a few years before had hung over himself, rose up before him. He had been an unbeliever, a blasphemer, and a persecutor of the church of Christ; had boasted his enmity to Christ and opposition to the gospel; in which he had even exceeded the body of his nation--he had taken the lead against Christianity--been unrivalled in zeal against the cause, and rancour against the followers of the Lamb. When warned of his danger, and admonished to consider what would be his portion, should Jesus prove to be the Messias, he seems to have derided the friendly warnings, and imprecated on himself the vengeance of the Nazerene!--to have defied him to do his worst! to pour his curse upon him! It is not strange that witnessing the temper of his nation, should call these things to his remembrance--that the consideration should affect him--that he should shudder at the prospect of the destruction which hung over them, and at the recollection of that from which himself had been "scarcely saved"--that he should exclaim, "God and my conscience witness my great heaviness and continual sorrow, when I look on my brethren the Jews, and consider the ruin coming upon them, from which I have been saved, _so as by fire_! Lately I was even more the enemy of Christ than they, and boasted greater enmity.. against him! And should have brought on myself a more intolerable doom, had not a miracle of power and mercy arrested me in my course!" That such considerations and a recollection of the share which he had formerly taken in strengthening the prejudices of his nation against the truth, should deeply affect him, and draw such expression from him as we find in the text and context, is not strange. They appear natural for a person circumstanced as he was at that time; and especially to one divinely forewarned of the devastation then coming on his place and nation. These we conceive to be the feelings and views expressed by the apostle in the beginning of this chapter--but that he should wish to be put into the place of Christ; or madly with evil to himself, from which nobody could be benefited, cannot be suspected; unless with Festus, we suppose him to have been "beside himself," and not to have known what he wrote, when he expressed himself as in the text. REFLECTIONS I. In Paul's conversion how wonderfully apparent are the wisdom and power of God? When we view Saul of Tarsus making havoc of the church in Judea, and soliciting permission to pursue its scattered members even into exile, we consider him as a determined enemy of Christ. Who then would suspect that he should be made to feel the power of divine grace? That he would become a Christian? Yea, a prime minister of Immanuel! But lo! For this cause did God raise him up! For this work was he training while drinking at the fount of Science, and learning the Jews' religion in the school of Gamaliel! While unsanctified he was a destroyer; but when melted by divine influence into the temper of the gospel, all his powers and all his acquisitions were consecrated to the service of God and the Redeemer. To affect this change in Paul, however unexpected, was not beyond the power of God; and it was done of God! Neither was it delayed till Paul had spent his best days in the service of Satan. At setting out to destroy, he was met of the ascended Savior, transformed by the renewing of his mind, and from that time devoted to the service of God; and continued faithful unto death. Many were his trials--severe his sufferings for the gospel which he preached; but "none of these things moved him; neither did he count his life dear to himself, that he might finish his course with joy, and the ministry which he had received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God." II. The temper manifested by St. Paul when contemplating the state of his nation, how worthy of imitation? Like his divine Lord, "when he beheld them he wept over them." Neither was the view unprofitable. It served to remind him of his own past guilt and danger, and the mercy which had been exercised toward him. His guilt and danger had been great. In high handed opposition to heaven, he had even exceeded "his kinsmen according to the flesh." Witnessing their state brought these again to his remembrance, and the grace of God which had stopt him in his course, and saved him from destruction, causing him at once, to rejoice and tremble! Many of the children of God when they witness the security of sinners; how they neglect the great salvation, and harden themselves in sin, may remember when they did the same themselves and some of them, in a higher degree than most of those who appear to be walking the downward road. Those who have found mercy cannot refrain from mourning over those whom they see hardening themselves in sin; nor should they cease to warn them from their way, and to cry to God in their behalf. But their attention is not wholly taken up from home; it often reverts thither, and stirs them up to grateful acknowledgments of divine goodness to themselves. WHO is he that maketh me to differ from the thoughtless sinner? is a consideration which often rises in the good man's mind, while looking on the careless and secure. It is a proper and a profitable consideration--tends to keep him humble and mindful of his dependence. Sense of past dangers serve to enhance the value of present safety. The greater dangers we have escaped, and the more wonderful our deliverances have been, the greater should be our love to our deliverer, and the greater our care to make him suitable returns. If we entertain just views of these things, such will be the effect. Those to whom most is forgiven love the most. By reflecting on the riches of divine mercy, we should stir up our souls to love the Lord. If witnessing the unconcern of others, while in the broad road, serves to excite us to gratitude for divine goodness shown to us, "the wrath of man is thereby made to praise the Lord." Such was the effect which a view of Israel's hardness had on Paul--May all Christ's disciples cultivate the same temper. III. In Paul's conversion we see God distinguishing among his enemies, and calling one into his kingdom who was, from principle, a destroyer of his saints. Paul was a Pharisee and the son of a Pharisee. No sect among the Jews was more bitter against Christ--no other so eager and active in their endeavors to crush his cause and subvert his kingdom. Yet numbers of that sect obtained mercy. The same did not happen respecting the Saducees. No instance of a Saducee brought to repentance, can be adduced. Why this discrimination? There may be reasons not revealed; but some are discernible. The Pharisees "had a zeal for God, though not according to knowledge." Saul, the Pharisee, "verily thought, that he ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus"--he did not sin against the light of his own mind. The same was doubtless the case with many others of that sect. The Saducees were devoid of principle--had rejected first principles--those taught by the light of nature. While first principles are retained, such was the belief of a divine existence--a difference between good and evil--a future state, in which men will receive the deeds done in the body, and the like, there remains a foundation on which religion may rest; but where these are rejected, the foundation is destroyed. Of the former who have erred in lesser matters of faith, and been thereby seduced into practical errors, many have been reclaimed, and brought to repentance: Not so the latter. "One among a thousand have we not found." And those whose sentiments border on atheism, or infidelity, are seldom called of God. There is a certain point of error in opinion, from which a return is rare. Those who reach it are commonly given up to strong delusions, which lead to destruction. And practical errors, especially those which are opposed to conviction, are highly criminal, and exceedingly dangerous--they fear the conscience, and provoke God to leave sinners to themselves--"My spirit shall not always strive with man--the times of ignorance God winked at, but now commands all men every where to repent." Saul of Tarsus speaks of himself as a chief of sinners "because he persecuted the church of God;" yet he obtained mercy! But those who sin against the light of their own minds, can draw little encouragement from thence. He hath declared the reason of the distinguishing mercy shown to him--"because I did it ignorantly in unbelief." * No sooner was he convinced of his mistake, than he returned with, "Lord what will thou have me to do?"--So do not those "who know their master's will and do it not." WOULD we share the blessedness of believing Saul, we must share his repentance; so shall we find mercy with God. "For there is no difference between the Jew and the Greek; for the same Lord over all, is rich unto all that call upon him." + * 1 Timothy i. 13. + Romans x. 12. * * * * * * SERMON X. David's Sin in the Matter of Uriah. 2 Samuel xii, 13. "And David said unto Nathan, 'I have sinned against the Lord.' And Nathan said unto David, 'The lord also hath put away thy sin; then shalt not die.'" The sin here referred to is that of David in the matter of Uriah. A strange and sad event--taken in all its circumstances and connections, it is without a parallel. But the circumstance most to be lamented, is that mentioned by the prophet, in the close of his message--"By this deed thou hast given great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme." The justness of this remark, doubtless appeared at that day, in the triumph of sinners and exultations of scoffers; and the story brought down to us, "on whom the ends of the world are come" is still abused to keep vice in countenance. "Look to David, your man of religion! Your man after God's own heart! and witness his complicated crimes! and his long continued security and unconcern under guilt, which cannot be charged on us, who view religion as a dream!"--So the infidel. While people of another description, wound God's cause yet more deeply, by the argument which they draw from this fall of David; namely, those who are allowedly vicious, yet call themselves "of the household of faith--who are pure in their own eyes, though not cleansed from their filthiness." These, when reproved, especially if their piety is called in question, often recur to David for support --tell us, that "though eminent for piety, he was guilty of greater sins than theirs, and long continued in them--that he remained impenitent till visited by Nathan, after the birth of his child by Bathsheba. If, say they, be could continue so long secure and unconcerned, why not longer? And why may not others fall into sins and continue in them months and years after having received the grace of God, and after they are numbered among the saints?" This, we conceive, to be the most baleful conclusion which is drawn from this history. And could it be made to appear that such was David's state, for so long a term, we see no way to avoid the conclusion--see not but the idea which the scriptures give of religion as a holy principle, productive of a holy life, must be relinquished. Such is the idea which the scriptures do give of religion--they teach, that it changeth the heart, and forms the new creature--that "in this the children of God are manifest, and the children of the Devil; that whomever doeth not righteousness is not of God; that by their fruits we are to know men." Thus speaks that holy book which we believe to be from God, and to shew us the way of salvation. But if the children of God are not made to differ from others, if they may live in allowed disregard of the law of God, like others, these distinctions are idle and unworthy our regard. This matter demands our attention. From the subject before us, the errors now mentioned draw their chief support. We do not flatter ourselves that we can stop mouths of scoffers, or so clearly elucidate this dark part of the book of God, that it will no more be abused to the purposes of depravity; but believe that it may be made apparent that it hath been mistaken and perverted; and thereby rendered the more mischievous. This will now be attempted. That David remained unconcerned and devoid of repentance for the sins which he committed in the matter of Uriah, till awakened to consideration by the ministry of Nathan, seems to have been taken for granted, and to have been the ground of these abuses. This may have been the common opinion. Whether it is founded in reality, we will now inquire. Or those who argue from a supposition that this was the case, we ask evidence that it was so. That we have no express declaration that Nathan found him a penitent, we conceive to be all that can be alleged as evidence that he remained till that time impenitent. To which may be rejoined, that we have no express declaration that Nathan found him impenitent. The fact is, both scripture and profane history are silent respecting the state of David's mind from the commission of the sins, till he was visited by the prophet. We are left therefore to judge the matter on other grounds. And on what grounds can we form a more profitable opinion than by considering _the general character of the man--the nature and effects of renewing grace--and the temper and conduct of the delinquent when he was reproved by the prophet_? From a consideration of these we may derive the most probable solution of the question, or judge what was probably the state in which David was found by Nathan. It may be proper to premise, I. That good men, while in this state of imperfection, should be surprized by temptation into sins, and even heinous sins, is neither new nor strange. Many instances occur in the history of the saints recorded in the scriptures. "Aaron, the saint of the Lord," and Moses, whose general character was that of "a servant, faithful in all God's house," were both seduced into sins of such enormity that they were excluded the land of promise, in common with rebellious Israel. Among New Testament saints similar lapses are observable. Even the apostles forsook the Savior, and fled when Judas led forth the hostile band to apprehend him; and Peter, when under the influence of fear, with oaths and imprecations "denied the Lord that bought him!" The habitual temper of these good men could not be argued--from these sudden acts. Neither is judgment to be formed of others, except by observing the general tenor of their lives. Strong and unexpected temptations may, and often do, seduce the best of those who remain in the body and retain the weakness of fallen creatures yet on trial. II. There is something in each one's constitution which predisposes to certain sins. To every person there is a "sin which most easily besets him"--from which he is liable to stronger temptation than from other sins--and temptation to such sins may rise from concurring circumstances, above its natural state, and become almost invincible. Nor will any person who reads the history of David doubt to what particular sin he was naturally most disposed. Neither are we insensible how one sin prepares the way for another, and strengthens temptation to it. David's sins on the occasion before us were complicated and exceeding sinful. But we know how he was seduced to the first, and how the others followed of course. Respecting the state in which he was found by Nathan we may judge, I. From his general character. This is so well known, that the bare mention is almost sufficient. The scriptures teach us that he was pious from his youth. When Samuel was sent to anoint him, sufficient intimation was given that his heart was right with God. When Elijah, the first born of Jesse palled before the prophet, pleased with his appearance, he supposed him to be the man whom God had chosen to rule his people--"Surely the Lord's anointed is before him"'--but God refused him with this declaration, "The Lord seeth not appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart." David's after life justified the preference then given him. No person acquainted with his history as contained in the sacred records, will scruple his general devotedness to the service of God. Should doubt arise, we may refer to the charter given of him by the pen of inspiration, about half a century after his death. "David did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, and turned not aside from any thing that he commanded him all the days of his life, save only in the matter of Uriah the Hittite." * * 1 Kings xv. 5. In that matter he greatly erred. There is no need however to consider him as then fallen from grace. The remains of depravity which continues after renovation, are sufficient under existing circumstances to account for his fall on that occasion. But it is inconcievable that a person of established piety should remain for a whole year stupid and unconcerned under the guilt of such transgressions; and the utter improbability of such an event will be further apparent, if we attend, II. To the nature and effects of renewing grace. It is no less true of holy than of unholy principles, that they are operative. The governing principle, whatever it may be, will bring forth fruit according to its nature. A GOOD man may be surprized into sin, as we have seen, but he will not go deliberately into the way of it, like the wicked. Neither do the two characters, when they have been seduced into sin, reflect upon it with similar feelings and views. When the good think on their ways, they are grieved and humbled for their faults, and turn their feet to God's testimonies; but the wicked bless themselves in their hearts, as fortunate in the accomplishment of their vicious desires. The good maintain a sense of God's presence--"Thou God seeth me." The wicked forget God or doubt his attention to their temper and conduct --"How doth God know? Is there knowledge in the most high?" It is not strange if those whose only joys are the pleasures of sense, felicitate themselves when they attain them; but those who love and fear the Lord, and prefer his favor above all earthly joys, must have other views. If sensible that they have offended God, and incurred his displeasure, it greives them at their hearts, and fills them with deep concern. Apart from all considerations of interest, the good see a baseness and deformity in sin, which render it the object of their aversion. They consider it the disgrace of their rational nature, and are humbled and abased when conscious that temptation hath prevailed to seduce them from the paths of rectitude. IT will not be imagined that David could banish thought, and drive away reflection, for a whole year after the commission of such enormous sin; as he committed in the matter now before us. It is presumed that no man, retaining reason was ever able soon to forget any enormity, which he knew himself guilty. The remembrance always haunts the imagination, and conscience goads the mind with a thousand stings. The delinquent hath not power to prevent it. He cannot drive away thought, and turn off his attention to other objects. It is further presumed, that every good man is formed to the habit of reflection; that he often enters into himself by a serious attention to his state; considers his temper; review's his conduct, and brings both to the divine standard, that he may know himself, and reform whatever is amiss. A person of David's character, especially circumstanced as he was at that time, could not possibly have been destitute of considerations. The society of the woman who had been the occasion of the crimes which had so maimed his character, must have brought those crimes to his remembrance, and kept them on his mind. Every time she came into his presence, or cheered him by her smiles, a group of affecting thoughts must have rushed in upon him; his first offence, an offence which the law of his God would have obliged him to punish with death, in a subject, and his after, and still more enormous sins, which he had committed to hide the first, and possess the object which he was forbidden even to covet, would occur to his mind. From the lovely object in his presence, his mind would naturally revert to her late, first greatly injured, and then murdered husband; to his faithfulness and zeal for the honor of his king and country, which had torn him from the embraces of a lovely partner, and the society of a family dear to him, and would not even suffer him to visit them when liberty was given him of his prince; to his careful attention to deliver the letters, by which he had unsuspectingly borne the mandate for his own murder; to his heroism when ordered up to the walls of the besieged city, though not supported by the commander in chief; and his noble exertions to subdue the enemies of Israel, amidst which he had bravely fallen! Such reflexions must have filled his mind; nor was it possible that he should have driven them away. Neither could he do other than condemn the part which he had acted and feel pain when he considered it. Surely such considerations must have racked his guilty soul, and made him tremble and mourn in bitterness of his spirit before God. A graceless tyrant who neither fears God, nor regards man, may view, his subjects as made for him, and think himself entitled to deprive them at his pleasure, of every comfort, and even life. This hath been the avowed sentiment of many an eastern despot. But it is not supposeable of a good man--"the man after God's own heart," though now seduced into certain heinous sins. Surely he could not think on his ways--on his then late transgressions, but remorse must have harrowed up his soul! He must have been deeply affected, and led to cry, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" The feelings of a good man, who had been seduced into sin and reflected upon it with deep contrition, are pathetically described by the pen of this same person, in the thirty second psalm; and description is couched in the first person, as what himself had experienced. "When I kept silence, my bones waxed old by reason of my roaring all the days long. For day and night thy hand was heavy on me; my moisture is turned into the drought of summer." There is a strong probability that his feeling on this occasion, before he confessed his sin, and obtained a sense of pardon, are here expressed. They are the same which we should suppose he must feel while tormentedwith a sense of such enormous guilt. III. We are to consider his temper and conduct when reproved by the prophet. These are the same which we should expect, did we know him to have been then a penitent. He was indeed taken by guile, and made to condemn himself before he perceived that he was the guilty person of whom the prophet complained. But had he till that time continued impenitent, it is not probable that he would have been instantly humbled, and immediately confessed his sin with true contrition. It is much more probable that he would have resented the application to himself, as an affront offered to royalty, and avenged himself on the Lord's messenger. God hath power instantly to change the sinner's heart without previous awakenings; but this is not the method of grace. Convictions, ordinarily, if not invariably, antecede conversion, prepare for it, and lead to it. Neither is this the method of grace, only with the sinner at the first great change, termed the, new birth, but with the saint who falls into heinous sins, and thereby resembles the sinner. When a good man yields to temptation and falls from his stedfastness, God commonly hides his face from him--for a term, and often for a considerable term, he sits in darkness--is ready to give up his hope--to conclude that he hath believed in vain--never loved God or hated sin--never passed from death into life. In fine, he feels similar pains, and passeth in many respects, a similar change, when renewed again by repentance, as when first made a new creature. Do we ever see persons who have been seduced into great and heinous sins, brought back to God, and comforted with his presence without sensations of this kind? We presume the instance cannot be adduced. We should look with a jealous eye on one who pretended to be an example of it. From the methods of grace at present, we may judge of them in times past. God is the same--sin equally his aversion, and sinners alike the objects of his displeasure. The supposition that a person is one moment a hardened sinner; the next a thorough penitent, pardoned, restored and comforted of God, is so diverse from his common manner of treating great offenders, that it should not be admitted in a given case, without clear and strong evidence; and in the case before us there is no evidence; even circumstances have a different aspect. No sooner was this offender reproved, than he discovered a humble penitent disposition. He, freely confessed his sin, both to God and man, as one who had thought on his ways and repented of his transgressions; which could not have been expected of one who after the commission of such crimes, remained thoughtless and secure, till the moment when his guilt and danger were set before him. But if David was a penitent before he was visited by Nathan, why had he concealed his repentance? Why spread a veil over it and neglected to glorify God by a confession of his sins? Did he think it sufficient to confess to God, and humble himself in secret? So some argue, and endeavor to cover the sins of which the world knows them to be guilty. But we are far from suspecting this of David. To break the divine law is implicitly to condemn it. "What iniquity have your fathers found in me?" To conceal sorrow for sin, is in effect to justify it. Then only is God glorified by an offender, when he takes the blame and the shame of his sins on himself, acknowledging the law which he hath broken to be "holy, just and good." Of these things, this offender could not be insensible David was indeed under strong temptation to hide his sins. He was the head of a family, several members of which were abandoned characters. These he had doubtless often reproved. He was the head of a nation, numbers of which were children of Belial. These he had called to repentance, reproved, punished. He had long professed religion--perhaps often declared its power to change the heart and mend the life. But if his crimes were now made public, he must appear "a sinner above all who dwelt at Jerusalem!" To have his conduct known would cover him with shame, and "give great occasion to the enemy to blaspheme, and speak reproachfully." Did these considerations prevent him from confessing his sins, and induce him to cover his transgressions? They were mostly arguments for his proclaiming his repentance, had his sins been public. By his sins he had countenanced wickedness, and set the example of it in a dignified station. By his confession he would condemn it, and justify the law of God, which forbids it; and by his return to duty, do every thing then in his power, to repair the injury he had done and prevent or remove the bad effects of his example. Why then had he neglected it? There was only one consideration which could excuse him--that, we apprehend, justified him. His sins in this affair were not public. It appears from several circumstances that they were kept out of sight till the prophet was sent to reprove and publish them, and his repentance of them. Joab knew indeed that the king wished the death of Uriah. It is not certain that he knew the cause. If he did, it is not probable that he had divulged it. That these matters were not transacted openly, or generally known, maybe inferred from two considerations, namely, from Bathsheba's going into mourning for Uriah, and from Nathan's declaration, when he foretold the evils which would come on David and his family, to punish his sins on this occasion, notwithstanding his repentance. Mournings were very short among the Hebrews; but this adulteress would not have put on mourning, or David delayed to take her to his house, to be his wife, till her mourning was ended, had this affair been public. But, that it was not so, is put out of doubt by the language of the prophet in his address to the king--"Thou didst it secretly." If the matter was not public, the delinquent was not to be criminated because he did not make it so. Sins committed in secret are to be confessed and mourned only before him who sees in secret. Such seems to have been David's fixation from the time of his fall, till the publication of his guilt, by the prophet; during which term he felt all the horrors of conscious guilt; "God's hand lying heavy on him." As it pleased God that both his fall and recovery should be made public, the prophet seems to have delivered his message before witnesses. This took away the ground of temptation longer to hide his fins, and cleared the way to a public renunciation, and return to duty. And the fallen prince waited no exhortations--needed no entreaties--"I acknowledged my sin unto thee; and mine iniquity have I not hid; I said I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou foregavest the iniquity of my sin." * * Psalm xxxii. 5. Thus the opinion of those who suppose that David remained impenitent and secure, till awakened to consideration by the ministry of Nathan, is devoid of proof, and even of probability. David's well known character--the nature of renewing grace; and the temper and conduct of this transgressor, when reproved by the prophet, concur to prove him then already a penitent; which is confirmed by the consolations forthwith administered to him by the Lord's messenger. If in this instance God pardoned, and gave a sense of pardon, to so heinous an offender, without a moment intervening sense of guilt, and evidence of pardon and peace, it must have been a very singular divine treatment of so vile a sinner! And if David, after having been long eminent for piety, lived a year of stupid unconcern, under such enormous guilt, it must have been a very strange event! A phenomenon in the history of man, unequalled in the annals of the world! Whether there is evidence to justify so strange a conclusion, judge ye. If we have not mistaken our subject, this affair gives no countenance to those who pretend religion to be a thing of nought--that it doth not change the heart and life, turning men from sin to holiness. Good people may be seduced into sin, but they are soon renewed by repentance--soon turn again to the Lord in the way of duty, confessing their sins and renewing their purposes and engagements to serve the Lord--"That which I know not teach thou me; and wherein I have done iniquity, I will do no more." Neither doth this affair yield comfort and hope to those, who while they call themselves saints, live like sinners. If _here_, they find no comfort and support, where will they find it? The only example thought to have been found in "the footsteps of the flock," fails them; and we are left to conclude that sanctification is the principal evidence of justification--"that by their fruits we are to know men." It is a dark omen when professors paliate their errors and deviations from duty, by pleading those of saints of old. Those saints erred; but they did not long continue in sin--"When they thought on their ways they turned by repentance." Neither did they flatter themselves in allowed wickedness. If any allege the sins of former saints in excuse for their own, they allege not that which distinguished them as saints, but that which they retained as sinners--not that which they possessed of the image of God, but that which remained to them of the image of Satan. This they may have in full, and yet be of their father the Devil. And such is the sad state of those who allowed serve sin, under whatever pretence. Those who are born of God, favor the thing which are of God. Sin is odious in their view. They long for freedom from it--"Oh wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" The saints wish for heaven, not only that they may see "their father who is in heaven," and the divine Redeemer, "who loved them and gave himself for them;" but because there "the spirits of the just are made perfect"--because there they expect to be holy as God is holy-- because there, to be "satisfied with God's likeness, and rejoice always before him." May God give us this temper, and keep us to his kingdom, for his mercy's sake in Christ. Amen. * * * * * * SERMON XI. General Character of Christians. Galatians v. 24. "And they that are Christ's have crucified the Flesh, with the Affections and Lusts." St. Paul is supposed to have been the first herald of gospel grace to the Galatians; and they appear to have rejoiced at the glad tidings, and to have received the bearer with much respect. But after his departure, certain judaizing teachers went among them, and labored but too successfully, to alienate their affections from him, and turn them form the simplicity of the gospel. The malice and errors of those deceitful workers, and the mischief which they occasioned at Galatia, caused the writing of this epistle: which, like the other writings of this apostle, reflects light on the gospel in general, while it served to correct the mistakes of those professors of Christianity, and guide their erring footsteps into the way of peace and truth. It is not our design to enter into the controversy between this inspired teacher, and his enemies. We are only concerned to understand him, and shall receive his instructions as communicated from above. The primary design of this epistle was to refute those false teachers who urged circumcision, and the observance of sundry parts of the Levitical code, which had been abrogated by the gospel. This appears to have been a leading error of those anarchists. That the apostle did not lay the intolerable burdens of the Mosaic ritual, on the professors of Christianity, was made the ground of a charge against him. St. Paul defended himself by evincing the errors of his opponents, shewing that Christians are made free from the ceremonial law; and that their justification before God is not in virtue of any obedience of their own, to either the ceremonial, or the moral law, but of grace through faith in Christ. In the former part of the epistle, he shows the impossibility of justification in any other than the gospel way--especially in that way, to which those false teachers directed--shews that they subverted the gospel, and rendered Christ's sufferings of no effect--"By the works of the law, shall no flesh be justified--If righteousness come by the law, then Christ is dead in vain." * * Chapter ii. 16, 21. We conceive these to be obvious truths, and wonder that they should be matter of doubt, or dispute, among those who are favored with revelation, and receive it as given of God. Perfect obedience is evidently the demand of the divine law, and condemnation is denounced against the breakers of it. "This do, and thou shalt live, but the soul that sinneth, it shall die." * But none of our race keep the law. "There is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good and sinneth not." The scripture hath concluded all under sin, that the promise "by faith of Jesus Christ, might be given to them that believe." Mankind are "shut up to the faith in Christ.." This is the way in which God "hath mercy on whom he will have mercy. He that believeth shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned." Therefore the hope of the apostle, in the way of faith, while discarding hope in any other way. "Knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ; even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the Faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law." * Lev. xviii. 5. Ezek. xviii. 4. From the reasoning of the apostle, the false teachers at Galatia seem not to have urged obedience to the whole law. Circumcision they taught to be indispensible. St. Paul allures them, that if they were under obligation to receive circumcision, they were equally obliged to keep the whole law; and that they bound themselves to this by submitting to be circumcised--that if they reverted to the law, and placed their dependence on their obedience to it, they renounced the grace of Christ, and would not be benefited by it. "Behold, I Paul, say unto you, that if ye be circumcised. Christ shall profit you nothing. For I testify again to every man that it is circumcised, that he is a debtor to keep the whole law. Christ is become of none effect unto you, whosoever of you are justified by the law, ye are fallen from grace," While such was the state of those who followed the judaizing teachers, those who retained the gospel as taught by the apostle, had another hope--a hope which would not make ashamed--a hope in divine grace through faith in Christ--"We through the spirit wait for the hope of righteousness by faith. For in Jesus Christ neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor uncircumcision; but faith which worketh by love." Such is every Christian's hope before God. He "counts all things to be loss and dung that he win Christ; but the righteousness which is of God by faith." But while St. Paul was exhibiting and urging these important truths, on the wavering Galatians, he foresaw, that it would be objected, that the scheme which he advanced, tended to licentiousness--that if men might be saved by faith without the works of the law, they might indulge themselves in sin--that this would render Christ the minister of sin. The same objection appears to have been made at Rome, where a faction existed similar to this at Galatia. This consequence the apostle rejected with abhorrence. "Do we then make void the law through faith? God forbid: Yea we establish the law." The Levitical code included both the ceremonial and the moral law. Though St. Paul declares justification unattainable by obedience to either or to both, he did not set aside the moral law, as no longer obligatory, as he did the ceremonial. This latter had answered the ends of its appointment, and was abolished by fulfillment. It was only a shadow of good things to come, and fled away before that of which it was a shadow. Christ had therefore blotted it out and taken it away. But the moral law was not done away. Christ hath fulfilled it for those who believe on him; but it doth not therefore cease to be obligatory upon them. It is of universal and eternal obligation. The salvation of mankind, doth not, however, depend on their obedience to it. If it did, they could not be saved, because all mankind have broken it. "Salvation is of grace, through faith." Instead of setting Christians free from obligation to keep the moral law, what Christ hath done for them strengthens their obligations to obey it. An increase of mercies is an increase of obligations to serve the Lord. But yet more is done to secure obedience from those who are Christ's --yea enough to secure it. A change passeth on them, when they become his, which reconciles them to the law, and causes them to delight in it, and in the duties which it enjoins. This produces a pleasing conformity to it--"his commandments are not grievous." Their obedience is sincere and universal. Others may render a partial obedience, out of fear, but the obedience of the renewed flows from love, and hath respect to all God's commandments. Remains of depravity abide in the Christian, but they do not habitually govern in him. That they are not wholly purged out of his nature, is to him the occasion of grief--causes him to go sorrowing: But he doth not gain complete deliverance till he puts off the body. He puts on, however, the gospel armor, and maintains a warfare against his own corruptions within, no less than against the powers of darkness without. Though sometimes wounded, and made to go on his way halting, he is in his general course victorious, rising superior to opposition, and living unto God. "Whosoever is born of God, doth not commit sin; for his seed remaineth in him, and he cannot sin, because he is born of God"--cannot sin: like others, allowedly and habitually. "How shall he who is dead to sin, live any longer therein?" Such is the character of the Christian, as drawn in the bible; so that all ground of objection to the gospel scheme, as drawn by St. Paul, is removed. Those who are Christ's instead of taking liberty to sin, because "they are not under the law, but under grace," are of all men most careful to do God's commandments; and from the noblest principles. Their obedience is not servile, but filial. This is the spirit of the text. _They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh, with the afflictions and lusts--HAVE crucified_. The change which frees from the governing power of indwelling corruption, and disposeth to walk in newness of life, hath already passed upon them. None are Christ's till this change takes place in them. But while the apostle vindicates the doctrine of grace, and shews its beneficial influence on the morals of men, care is taken to guard against mistakes on the other hand--not to give occasion to consider renewing grace as wholly eradicating the principles of depravity, and putting an end, at once to the spiritual context. This subject is treated more largely in the epistle to the Romans.* But the opposition of natural and gracious principles, is here mentioned, and some of its effects described. "The flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary the one to the other; so that ye cannot do the things that ye would." * Chapter vii. In every man, whatever may be his character, there are different principles, which, struggle and contend with one another. The natural man feels a bias to wickedness, and wishes to indulge his depraved inclinations. But reason forbids, and conscience remonstrates, and warns him to beware what he doth--reminds him that to yield to passion is wrong--to indulge appetite unreasonably is sinful--that for these things God will bring him into judgment. Thus the principles implanted in the mind, by the God of nature, withstand the sinner in his way, and resist him in his course; they hold him back and restrain him from gratifying his natural desires--from doing that to which he is inclined, and hath power to do. By this means he is prevented from giving full latitude to his corruptions; yea, he is sometimes influenced to do good. Herod was a vile character; but "he feared John, knowing that he was a just man, and an holy, and observed him; and when he heard him he did many things, and heard him gladly." * Many similar instances might be adduced. There is not a sinner who doth not feel the natural bias, and the power of reason and conscience, driving and contending within him; and sometimes the one prevails to influence his conduct, and sometimes the other. * Mark vi. 20. Neither is the Christian free from similar struggles. Reason and conscience have naturally the same power in him which they have in others. The corrupt bias, is also weakened in renovation; yea receives a deadly wound. But it is not immediately destroyed. Still its influence is felt, and its effects observed. Sometimes it evinceth so much power, that its deadly wound seems to be healed. Reason and conscience, strengthened by renewing grace, ordinarily prevail over indwelling depravity; but not without a struggle, as every Christian can testify--neither do the better principles always conquer. Sometimes the opposing principles, or powers, prevail, and lead to error and wickedness. Thus "the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh--so that ye cannot do the things that ye would." Neither the regenerate, nor the unregenerate, are free to do all that to which the generally governing principle inclines. The difference between the renewed, and the unrenewed, is not that the former is free from temptation, the latter overcome by it, at every attack. Neither is the case. Both meet with temptation, and often that which is severe. Each sometimes overcomes; at other times is overcome by it. But the renewed formed to the habit of attention and watchfulness, and looking to God for help, and acting, in the main, uprightly before God, is usually a conqueror; while the unrenewed, habitually careless, and negligent of watchfulness and prayer, is more often conquered, and hurried into error and wickedness. The renewed are chiefly restrained by love to God and duty; the unrenewed by fear of punishment; Though fear hath a degree of influence on the former; and other considerations, beside fear, are not wholly, devoid of influence on the latter. How far a Christian may be influenced by remaining corruption, and carried away by the prevalence of temptation; or how far a sinner may be restrained by the influence of those principles and considerations, which withstand him in his course, we are unable to determine. That both feel and are influenced by those opposing principles, is not matter of doubt. We experience it in ourselves, whatever our characters may be; and we observe it in others. None are so moulded into the divine image, as to become perfect--neither doth depravity attain so complete an ascendant over any who remain in the body, as to divest them of all restraints, and yield them wholly up to the vicious propensity. Restraints, yea inward restraints operate in degree, on the most depraved. This is a mixed state. The good and the bad are here blended together. "The wheat and the tares must grow together until the harvest"--yea not only in every field, but in every heart. None are perfectly good, or completely bad, while in this world. The finishing traits of character are referred to that to come. In that world we expect, that both the righteous and the wicked, will be perfect in their kind --"the spirits of the just be made perfect"--those of the opposite character put on the full image of their infernal parent. IMPROVEMENT. _If those who are Christ's have crucified the flesh, with its affections and lusts_, How stands the case with us? Are we thus made to differ from the wicked world? Do we love God--believe on his Son-- do his commandments, and trust his grace? Then, "to us to live is Christ, and to die gain." Here we must have trials--this is not our rest. But the time is short. Soon we shall be called "from our labors, and our works will follow us," Soon we shall be with Christ--behold his glory, and rejoice in his presence. Happy state! But let us beware deception. Some "hold a lie in their right hands; cry peace when there is no peace to them." Let us commune with our own hearts; attend to our temper and conduct; inquire whether we have taken up our cross, and are following Christ? Whether the spirit of Christ dwelleth in us. If we have not his spirit, we are none of his. "If we have his spirit we walk as he walked." If this is our happy state, we shall ere long hear from our Judge, "come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundations of the world." But if found sinners, a very different doom awaits us. * * * * * * SERMON XII. The aggravated Guilt of him who delivered Christ to Pilate. John xix.10, 11. "Then saith Pilate unto him, 'Speakest thou not unto me? Knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and have power to release thee?' Jesus answered, 'Thou couldest have no power against me, except it were given thee from above: Therefore he that delivered me unto thee hath the greater sin.'" Judea was conquered by the Romans and reduced to a province of their empire, before Christ suffered for the sins of men. When the Jews conspired his death, Pilate was governor of that province. The power of life and death was in his hands. Though said to have been devoid of principle, he was unwilling to give sentence against Jesus. Free from Jewish prejudices, he was convinced of Christ's innocence; that he had committed no offence, either against his own nation, or against the Romans; but that for envy he had been arraigned, condemned, and delivered up as a malefactor. A mighty prince was then expected to arise in Israel. That he would save his people from their enemies, and crush the powers which held them in subjection, was the general idea entertained of him. But the Jews had no expectations of such a deliverer in the Son of Mary; nor did the Roman Governor see aught in him to excite suspicion of a formidable enemy. He wished, therefore, to release him; repeatedly declared him not guilty; and would have set him at liberty, but the Jews opposed. They declared that "by their law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God"--or gave himself out for the expected Messias. This was probably the first hint which Pilate received of this nature, and it seems to have alarmed him. "When he heard that saying he was more afraid." Pilate was not an Atheist. He appears to have had some knowledge of a divine existence and belief of a superintending providence. Living among the Jews, he was, no doubt, acquainted with their religion, and their expectations of a deliverer; and if there was a suspicion that this was that deliverer, it concerned him to act with caution; at least to make inquiry. He therefore returned to the judgment hall, and entered on another examination of the prisoner. He began by inquiring after his origin. "He said to Jesus, Whence art thou? But Jesus gave him no answer." The test follows, in which we observe the following particulars, viz: I. Pilate blaming Jesus, for refusing to answer him--boasting of his power, and appealing to our Lord, that he possessed it. _Speakest thou not unto me? Knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and have power to release thee_? II. Christ reminding Pilate, that he possessed only delegated power; intimating that he was accountable for the use he made of it. _Thou couldest have no power against me, except it was given thee from above_. III. Christ aggravating the guilt of those who had delivered him to Pilate, from a consideration of the power which he possessed, in which there might be an allusion to Pilate's character as an unprincipled man. _Therefore, he that delivered me unto thee hath the greater sin_. We will treat of these in their order. I. We observe Pilate blaming Jesus for refusing to answer him; boasting of his power, and appealing to our Lord that he possessed it. _Speakest thou not unto me? Knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and have power to release thee_? But why is Christ faulted? He had said enough to convince the court of his innocence. The judge had repeatedly and publicly declared it. "I find no fault in him." Christ's silence was not sullen, or contemptuous. He had said enough. His silence was prudent--perhaps necessary. He had come into the world to suffer--"to make his soul an offering for sin." Had he said more, perhaps Pilate had not dared to give sentence against him. Had not Christ died the ends of his coming had been frustrated. Therefore was he now dumb before his oppressors, agreeably to the prophecy. "He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep is dumb before his shearers, so he opened not his mouth." It was necessary that evidence should be given of Christ's innocence, sufficient to convince the honest mind, that he was not a malefactor --that he did not die for his own sin. This had been given. It was enough--rendered his murderers inexcuseable. The wisdom of providence permitted no more. Pilate declared himself convinced. But then _he had power either to crucify Christ, or to release him_. He felt himself possessed of this power, and appealed to our Lord whether he did not possess it. Pilate knew what was right--what he ought to do. Conscience directed him to acquit the guiltless. But this did not necessitate him to do it. He had power to do right. He had power also to do wrong. Others possess similar power. Every moral agent hath power to obey or disobey the dictates of his conscience. It is not the method of heaven to compel men to good, or leave them to be compelled to evil. God intended man to be a free agent, who should choose for himself the part he would act; and endowed him with a self determining power, to capacitate him to choose. Devoid of this power, he could not be accountable. Man ought to be governed by reason and conscience. These make known his duty, and offer proper motives to induce him to discharge it. But they do not oblige him to it. It is referred to his own choice. If he prefer doing wrong, to doing right, he may do it. This is exemplified in the case before us. Sufficient evidence was given of Christ's innocence. The judge was convinced, and knew that it was his duty to treat him as innocent. But if to answer worldly ends, or in any respect to gratify depravity, he preferred crucifying the guiltless, he had power to do it. Though Jesus was the Son of God, God had left him in the hands of the enemy. "It was their hour and the power of darkness." They chose and conspired his death. The Jews would not receive such a Messias. Pilate did not choose to offend the Jews. The former urged his crucifixion, for fear "all men would believe on him." The latter was prevailed with to condemn the guiltless, because he wished to gratify the chiefs of the nation which he governed. Both sinned against the light of their own minds, not of necessity, but out of choice--knowingly did wrong to gain worldly ends; or avoid temporal disadvantages. Sinners commonly act on the same principles. They can distinguish between good an evil--can "judge of themselves what is right." They know it to be their duty to choose the good, and refuse the evil. But possessing power to counteract the dictates of conscience, often to gain worldly ends, and answer sinister views, do counteract them --choose that for which they are condemned of themselves. It is folly to pretend that our choices are necessary. The proposition involves absurdity. Choice and necessity are often opposites. Some bewildered in the labyrinth of metaphysics have doubted the plainest truths--the existence of matter! And even their own existence! But these doubts are a species of madness. To the person of common sense they are unnecessary. Let him only believe his senses, which the author of nature hath given to instruct him, and they will all vanish. In the case before us, a single glance inward, carries full conviction that we are free. To offer arguments in proof is superfluous--is trifling--it is to ape the philosopher who attempted to syllogize himself into a conviction of his own existence! * * Cogito, ergo sum. Descartes. From the knowledge of our capacity, and liberty of choice, ariseth sense of merit and demerit. And thence our expectation of reward or punishment from an enlightened and righteous tribunal. Were we necessitated to actions, now, the most criminal, we should have no sense of guilt; neither should we fear condemnation from a just judge on their account. Did we choose such actions, if we knew our choices to be the effect of invincible, supernal influence, they would give us no concern. On our part, no criminality would be attached to them; it would rest with the efficient. Had Pilate been compelled to give sentence against Christ, he would have had no sense of guilt; nor could he have been justly criminated. But when the motives which actuated him, and his freedom of choice are considered, he must have been condemned of himself, and of all mankind. When Pilate appealed to our Lord, that he was possessed of power, either _to crucify or release him_, the justice of the claim is admitted; but then, II. He is reminded by the divine prisoner, that he possessed only delegated power, intimating that he was accountable for the use he should make of it. _Thou couldest have no power against me, except it were given thee from above_. Pilate probably prided himself on his exaltation. He was set in authority. In his province, his power resembled that formerly in the hands of the Babalonish tyrant: "Whom he would he slew, and whom he would he kept alive." It might flatter his pride to end himself the judge of Judah; others as being of divine origin--the Son of God--the expected Messias, who was to deliver Israel. and raise them to power. Perhaps he valued himself on power to do either right or wrong--that he was necessitated to neither. _Knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and have power to release thee_? Though Christ had given him no answer when Pilate demanded his origin, he now reminds him, boasting of his power, that it was all derived, or delegated; particularly that which he possessed over his prisoner, whom he had acknowledged to be faultless: _Thou couldest have no power against me except it were given thee from above_. As though he had said, "Remember Pilate, that with all your high feelings, and parade of power, you have no power which is properly your own; none which is not derived from above; none for the use of which you are not accountable. There is one who ruleth in the kingdoms of men, and giveth them to whomsoever he will, and setteth up over them the basest of men," To answer his mysterious purposes you are now in authority; but forget not whence it is derived, and the consequences of abusing it. "There may be oppression of the poor, and violent perverting of judgment and justice in a province, but marvel not at the matter; for he who is higher than the highest regardeth"--he will set all right in the end. For the use which you make of your powers, you must give account to him. Such seems to have been the import of Christ's reply to this haughty ruler, boasting of powers, on this occasion. What sentiments it raised in the breast of this Roman, we are not informed; but the reply was full of salutary counsel and instruction. Had Pilate regarded it as he ought, it would have prevented him from having been a principal actor in the vilest enormity ever committed on this globe. Pilate seems to have felt in degree, the weight of Christ's reply, and to have been the more concerned. For it follows: "From thenceforth Pilate sought to release him." He had sought it before. "From henceforth," he was yet more desirous to set Christ at liberty, and exerted himself more earnestly to persuade the Jews to consent to his discharge. But this was not all which Christ said on the occasion; he added, II. Another observation, which related to those who had conspired his death, and brought him to Pilate's bar; perhaps more particularly to Judas, who had betrayed him--therefore HE that delivered me unto thee hath the greater sin. If only one person is here intended, as having delivered Christ to Pilate, Judas must have been the person. That Pilate possessed such power, the power of life and death, is declared an aggravation of his guilt, who had delivered him to Pilate; in which there might be an allusion to Pilate's character as an unprincipled man. He was known to be under the government of appetite, passion, or selfishness. He had been often guilty of injustice and cruelty in his public administration. Therefore had his enemies the greater sin in delivering Jesus unto him. Such we apprehend to be the meaning of the text; which hath been thought to be obscure and difficult. The difficulty will strike us, if we read the whole passage as it stands in the translation. Pilate saith unto him, Speak thou not unto me? Knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and have power to release thee? Jesus answered, Thou couldest have no power against me, except it were given thee from above; THEREFORE he that delivered me unto thee hath the greater sin. The last clause seems at first view, to refer to the words which immediately precede, which is to understand our Savior as aggravating the guilt of those who delivered him to Pilate, from the consideration of Pilate's power having been derived from above. This cannot be the meaning. All power in the hands of creatures, maybe traced to the same source. It is derived from above. But the source whence power is derived is out of the question respecting the merit or demerit attending the use of it. The guilt of him who delivered Christ to Pilate, was neither increased nor diminished by it. The consequence, THEREFORE he that delivered me unto thee hath the greater sin, looks back to words preceding--I have power to crucify thee, and have power to release thee. His sin was great, who delivered Christ to such an one; to one possessed, of his power, and of his character; much greater than though he had delivered him to one devoid of power to crucify; or to one who was a man of principle. Delivering Jesus to Pilate was like delivering Daniel to the lions; or the three children to the fiery furnace. The rage of the lions, and the power of the flames, were restrained by the greater power of God; but no thanks to the enemies of those holy men--they could be considered in no other light than that of murderers. The Supreme ruler could have restrained Pilate and have prevented his having yielded to Christ's enemies, and given him to their will. But the determinate counsel of heaven had otherwise resolved before the incarnation. "It was necessary that Christ should suffer, and enter into his glory." Therefore was he given up to the rage of his enemies who thirsted for his blood. Christ's crucifixion was the design of his enemies in delivering him to Pilate. This was their sin. God overruled it for good, and made it the occasion of glory to himself, and salvation to sinners. This is no alleviation of their guilt. "They meant not so; neither did their heart think so. For envy did they deliver him." What Christ said concerning the source, whence Pilate derived his power, comes in by a parenthesis. It is unconnected with the other parts of the sentence, which is complete without it. "I have power to crucify thee--The greater is their sin who delivered me to you. But you have no power against me that you have not received from above. Remember it is derived from heaven, and to the God of heaven you are accountable for the use you make of it." This memento, which comes in by the bye, was a proper caution to the ruler not to abuse his power. Had he acted agreeable to the evident design of it--so acted, as to have been justified to himself, and able to give a good account to the source of power, for the use he made of that which was delegated to him, it would have prevented him from delivering Jesus to his enemies, add kept him clear of a crime, the perpetration of which, darkened even the natural world, and throw it into convulsions! Pilate felt so much force in the warning, that he was perplexed. He wished to acquit the prisoner; of whose innocence he was satisfied; hut he feared the Jews. He was probably apprehensive that they might inform against him at Rome, as he knew, that much of his past administration could not be justified. He had not therefore the courage to tell the Jews, that justice forbad, and he would not condemn the guiltless. What had he to do with justice, who had often sported with it, to gratify his passions, or gain his selfish purposes? Who had done it openly, and it was matter of public notoriety? The Jews urged, "if thou let this man go, thou art not Caesar's friend." Pilate trembled; but his fear of Caesar prevailed above his fear of God. "He conferred therefore, that it should be as they required, and delivered Jesus to their will." REFLECTIONS I. When we contemplate these things, what a series of wonders rise to our view? The state of man--the way in which he was brought into it; and that in which only he could be delivered from it, are all mysterious! Man had ruined himself--ruined his race! Human guilt could not be expiated without blood! Without blood divine! Man had sinned, and the Son of God must suffer, or sin could not be pardoned! No other sacrifice could make atonement. Christ consented to undertake the work of our redemption--to "make his soul an offering for sin!" But how? He must take human nature! Become man! Wonder of wonders! Still difficulty remained. He must die, "the just for the unjust!" In what manner could this be accomplished? Christ's sufferings would be, of all crimes, the most sinful, in those by whom he suffered. No good man could knowingly take part in them. They could only be the work of Christ's enemies, and of the enemies of God, and goodness. It is no small part of this mystery, that the good should oppose, and that it should be their duty to oppose, that which had become necessary for man's salvation! And that the wicked should be engaged to do that which was requisite for this end! And that their enmity against God and the Redeemer, should excite and influence them thereto! But though every thing relating to this matter is too deep for us. Deity had no embarrassment. To omniscience all was easy and obvious. The great Supreme needed only to sit at helm, superintend and overrule the lulls of apostate creatures, to effect the purposes of his grace! Need only to permit man freely to follow his own inclinations! "The wrath of man would thus be made to praise God;" and the designs of mercy be accomplished! The greatest good be occasioned by the greatest evil! God glorified, and sinners saved! The mystery of redemption was veiled, till atonement had been made for sin. That satisfaction was to be made to divine justice, by the sufferings of a divine person, remained a hidden mystery, till explained by the event. This was necessary. Had the enemy been able to penetrate the design, these things would not have been done. Satan would not have instigated, nor his adherents crucified the Lord of glory. The powers of darkness were laboring to subvert and destroy; they vainly thought to defeat the purposes of grace; but were made instrumental in their accomplishment. "The wise were taken in their own craftiness; the purposes of the froward carried headlong; but the divine purposes stood, and God performed all his pleasure! Oh, the depths of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!" II. Another thing which our subject suggests to our consideration, is the way of God with man. God hath provided a savior, and offered salvation--he hath pointed out the way of duty, and commanded us to walk in it--allured us thereto by promises, and barred up the way to destruction by threatenings. Those who enjoy the gospel, have life and death set before them. But no constraint is laid upon them--they choose for themselves, and the consequences follow. Though the best services of fallen man are imperfect, and mercy offered in Christ his only hope, he hath reason to expect saving mercy while seeking it in the way of duty, and only while thus seeking. When we "keep consciences void of offence, toward God and men, then are we satisfied from ourselves," and expect the approbation of our judge. When we act differently, we are condemned of ourselves, and tremble to approach the enlightened tribunal. These views are natural--they are written on the heart or conscience, by the creator's hand, and indicate what we may reasonably expect from him who knows our hearts--from him who is moral governor of all worlds. As we know ourselves to be free agents, and as we possess only delegated powers, we are certainly accountable for the use which we make of those powers. The duties which rise out of such a situation, and the consequences which will follow, according to the manner in which we act our parts, need not to be pointed out--they lie open to every eye. III. When we consider the struggle in Pilate's breast, between sense of duty, and a desire to please the world, and how it terminated, we see the danger of wanting fixed principles of rectitude--of not being determined, at all events, to do right, whatever may be the consequences. Pilate's duty was plain. He knew his duty--felt his obligation to do it, and wished to do it, that he might feel easy, and not be concerned for consequences. But he had formerly sacrificed conscience to appetite, passion, or selfishness, and it was known. This exposed him to temptation again to do wrong. He who had violated conscience to gain worldly ends, might do it again. Pilate had exposed himself by past conduct--could not justify his past administration--his enemies might report him to Caesar--he could not answer for himself before Caesar; but if he would again violate conscience, oblige the Jews, in a matter they had much at heart, he hoped their friendship--that they would spread a veil over his past conduct, and report in his favor at Rome. Such was the situation into which he had brought himself by willful deviations from duty--thence temptations to farther and greater deviations--temptations not easily overcome--temptations by which he was overcome, and seduced to the most horrid wickedness--crucifying the Lord of glory! Those who would maintain their integrity, and stand in the evil day, must resolve to do right; to obey the dictates of conscience; they must beware the beginnings of sin; hold no parley with the enemy; never hesitate, whether it is not best, in any case to yield to temptation; nor make attempts to please those who wish them, and dare to importune them to counteract the light of their own minds-- "trimming their way to seek love." To enter on such a course, is to go on forbidden ground. It is to pass the bounds, and go into the way of seduction. "Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not into the way of evil men. Avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away." * * Proverbs iv. 14. What the poet observes, respecting one species of temptation, holds, in degree, of every other. "In spite of all the virtue we can boast, The _person_ who deliberates in lost."--Young. * * * * * * SERMON XIII. The Trial of Peter's love to Christ. John xxi. 15, 16, 17. "So when they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, 'Simon son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these?' He saith unto him, 'Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee.' He saith unto him, 'Feed my lambs.' He saith to him again a second time, 'Simon son of Jonas, lovest thou me?' He saith unto him. 'Yea Lord; thou knowest that I love thee.' He saith unto him, 'Feed my sheep.' He saith unto him the third time, 'Simon son of Jonas, lovest thou me?' Peter was grieved, because he said to him the third time, 'Lovest thou me?' And he said unto him, 'Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.' Jesus saith unto him, 'Feed my sheep.'" "This was the third time that Jesus shewed himself to the disciples after he was risen from the dead." But it was not the last time. "He often shewed himself alive: after his passion, being seen of them for forty days, and speaking of the things pertaining to the kingdom of God." Once he appeared to a Christian assembly--"was seen by above five hundred brethren" at the same time. When he had given to his disciples those infallible proofs of his resurrection, and those instructions, which their work required, "while they beheld, he was taken up; and a cloud received him out of their sight." This visit was made to a part of the disciples at the sea of Tiberias; whither they had retired after the crucifixion; but whether to follow their former occupation, or in expectation of meeting there the risen Savior, who had promised to manifest himself to them in Galilee, we are not informed. They were however engaged in fishing, when after the fruitless labors of a night, they saw Jesus in the morning standing on the shore. God looks favorably on his people when he sees them employed in honest secular business; and sometimes manifests himself to them. This was a kind instructive visit, to these disciples; especially to Peter. Peter was of a bold, forward disposition, naturally eager and confident, and so strongly attached to his Lord, that he thought nothing could separate him from him--neither allurements, nor terrors. Therefore when Christ warned his family of his approaching sufferings, and the effect which they would have on them--that "they would be offended because of him--yea be scattered from him and leave him alone:" Peter did not believe him! He had such love to Christ, and felt so determined to adhere to him, in all extremities, that he dared to declare, "Though all shall be offended, yet will not I." And when his Lord, assured him that he would thrice deny him that very night, he was not convinced. It only served to draw from him a more vehement and positive assertion, "If I should die with thee I will not deny thee in any wise." But he soon found his mistake. Three times, before the next morning dawned, did he deny his Savior--with oaths and imprecations did he deny him! This sinner was soon renewed by repentance. And one design of Christ's visit at this time, seems to have been to assure the penitent, that his sin, in "denying the Lord who bought him," was pardoned, and that he was confirmed in the office to which he had been previously called. But the manner in which this was done carried in it a reproof, which must have called his sin to remembrance, causing his soul to be humbled in him. Let us turn our attention to the subject. _In the text we see Christ questioning Peter, and trying his love --Peter appealing to Christ for the reality of it--and Christ directing Peter how to manifest his love to him--by feeding his flock_. I. We see Christ questioning Peter and trying his love. _Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these_? Simon was the original name of this apostle. Cephas and Peter, which signify a rock, or stone, were names given him of Christ, expressive of that firmness of character, for which he was remarkable. These though commonly used, after they were given him, were omitted on this occasion; probably as a tacit reproof of his denial of his Lord, a little before; which had been occasioned by the failure of his courage--by the deficiency of his firmness. The manner in which his divine master, here addressed this disciple, seemed to imply a doubt of his love; or of the supremacy of it. CHRIST knew the heart. Peter's love was not hidden from him. But while he dwelt with men, he treated people according to their apparent characters; thereby setting an example to his followers who can judge others only by appearances or that which is external. Jesus did not immediately address himself to Peter, as soon as he had made himself known; but after he had been some time in the company of these friends and followers, and they had made a friendly meal together, he turned to this disciple, and in the presence of his brethren, who had witnessed his high professions of love, and determination never to forsake or deny him, and the part he had acted soon after, addressed him, as in the text; _Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these_? What had happened a little before, rendered this question highly proper. One of the twelve had fallen. One, whom the others had not suspected. Nothing had appeared, which marked out Judas for the traitor, during the time of his going out and in with the other disciples. Christ, though he knew him, and gave frequent intimations that there was a traitor among them, had never designated him. When they were told that one of them should betray their Lord, their eyes were not turned upon Judas, but each one appeared jealous of himself, "Lord is it I?" But his hypocrisy had now been made manifest and he had gone to his own place. Such had he been found who was the steward in Christ's family! That with respect to him, the other disciples had been deceived, now appeared. And Peter, who had been To forward and zealous, and professed such warm love to Christ, had lately denied him! And though he had returned, professing himself a penitent, his sincerity is questioned, and he is called on, to clear up his character. It was important that this matter should be determined, that the other disciples might know how to treat this late offender--whether he was to be received as a brother, or to be considered as deposed from his office, and to be succeeded by another. This was probably the reason of Christ's addressing him, as here in the presence of his brethren. _Lovest thou me more than these_? If he had the love of Christ dwelling in him, and that love was supreme, Christ would forgive the past and continue to employ him as a shepherd to feed his flock. Therefore did he apply to this late offending pastor, and demand of him in the presence of his brethren, whether he really loved him, with such a love as was necessary to constitute him a disciple. This had been long before settled, and determined, to be love superior to that which is borne to the world, or the riches and honors, or friendships and relations of it, or even life in it. "He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: He that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me: He that taketh not his cross and followeth after me, is not worthy of me: He that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it." * * Matthew x. 37. The purport of this and parallel declarations of the divine teacher, are not obscure; they plainly teach that we cannot be Christ's disciples, unless our love to him surpasseth that which we bear any thing terrestrial. Therefore the question put to Simon, agreeably to these prior definitions of that love to Christ which is necessary to constitute a person his disciple, marked particularly by the last clause of it, "more than these?" Expositors have generally put another sense on this question, and in our apprehension, a mistaken sense. They have considered our Lord as inquiring of Simon whether his love exceeded that of his fellow disciples. "Lovest thou me more than these thy fellow disciples love me?" This cannot be the sense of the question. This is a question which Simon could not have answered; and which it would have been wrong in him to have attempted to answer; a question therefore which Christ would not have put to put to him, or required him to answer. To have answered it, Simon must have known the heart of others; but to have pretended to the knowledge of them, would have been claiming a divine prerogative. But Peter had declared on Christ's forewarning them that "they would all be offended because of him, although all shall be offended, yet will not I." He had indeed made that declaration; but he had not judged others, or pretended to determine that they would or would not be offended because of him. Peter knew that he loved Christ--that the love of Christ was generally a governing principle in his heart. He felt the strength of it so sensibly at that time, that he did not conceive it possible that any dangers or sufferings could ever induce him to forsake his Lord; or in any respect, be offended because of him. Therefore his confident declaration, that he would stand by him in every extremity, though he should be left to stand alone. Leaving the future conduct of others, to determine the measure of their love to Christ, he spake only of his own. "Though all men shall be offended because of thee, yet will not I be offended." As though he had said; "I do not pretend to know the hearts of others; but I think I know my own; and that I have such love to thee my Lord, that nothing can separate me from thee." Jesus answered, "Verily I say unto thee, that this night, before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice." Peter replied, "Though I should die with thee, yet will I not deny thee. Likewise also said all his disciples." They no doubt all spoke the language of their hearts; all expressed the determination of their souls at the time; though they were soon convinced of their mistake--that they did not sufficiently know themselves--their own weakness--the need they stood in of divine support. Peter, in particular, expressed the genuine feelings of his own warm and honest heart; but without the smallest intimation, that he suspected his fellow disciples; or pretended to judge them. And is there reason to think that Christ would put him upon this work? That he would require him to judge them, and compare his love with theirs? Especially when we consider Christ's former prohibition of judging others, which he had early made a law to his disciples. "Judge not that ye be not judged :" And remember that Christians are directed, "in all lowliness of mind, to esteem others better than themselves." Some have been disposed to think highly of themselves, and meanly of others--to say to others, "Stand by thyself; come not near me; I am holier than thou"--Some, to "compare themselves with others and exalt themselves above others." But not so the humble Christian--Not so the meek follower of Jesus. Nor is there any thing favorable to such temper and conduct to be found in the sacred volume. The spirit and tenor of the divine rule is opposed to it, and speaks persons of this character, objects of divine aversion. This temper, and its opposite, are exemplified in the pharisee and publican, who went up to the temple to pray. "God I thank thee, that I am not as other men--or even as this publican." Thus the pharisee. But "the publican standing afar off, would not lift up so much as" his eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, "God be merciful to me a sinner." We know which of these met the divine approbation. Now, is it supposable, that the Savior would put a question to Simon, which would countenance the pharasaic disposition? Or that he would require him to judge the hearts of others? Or compare himself with others, in a matter which required the knowledge of their hearts? It seems strange that this should be thought by any one, to be the sense of Christ's question to Peter; much more that this should be the most common construction of it, by expositors. II. In answer to our Lord's question to Simon, we find him in the text appealing to our Lord, for the reality of his love. "_Thou knowest that I love thee--Thou knowest all things, Thou knowest that I that I love thee_." It is observable that Peter rests the whole matter on Christ's knowledge of the heart. Peter makes no plea--adduces no evidence-- mentions no circumstances, evidential of his love to Christ, but refers the matter back directly to him, as the searcher of hearts and leaves it with him. _Thou knowest that I love thee_. The grieved, and distressed apostle, could have mentioned many things as proofs of his love to Jesus; yea of the strength of his affection for him. He might have pleaded his profession respecting Christ, at the time when he was honored with the name of Peter--an honorable distinction, and designed to recommend him to the acceptance of his fellow disciples. * He might have mentioned what passed, when Christ asked the twelve, whether they "would also go away?" When many offended at his doctrine forsook him, after having followed him, and professed themselves his disciples. Simon had on that occasion made a noble profession, shewing that he was a disciple indeed--"Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life. And we believe and are sure, that thou art that Christ, the son of the living God?" He might have pleaded, that he had singly dared to draw his sword against the multitude, which came to apprehend his Lord--that he had resolutely attacked them, and maintained the conflict, with the whole band, till disarmed by a command from his divine Sovereign to put up his sword into its sheath--that he had followed Christ, when most of the others forsook him and fled--had ventured into the judgment hall to attend his trial and witness the event--that though there surprised and terrified into a denial of Christ, when he saw him contrary to his expectations, resign himself to death, by the wicked hands of unbelieving Jews, aided by heathen soldiers, yet that only one kind look from his captive Lord, had brought him to repent and mourn in the bitterness of his soul, that he had not agreeably to his former purpose, died with his divine master--He might have alleged, that he had not forsaken Christ's family and friends, even when Christ hung on the cross or slept in the tomb; though his most faithful followers, had then been ready to conclude, that they had been deceived, when "they trusted that it was he who should have redeemed Israel"--that he had watched Christ's corpse, and been with the first to examine the report of his resurrection, and among the first who believed it--and that even then, at that appearance of his Lord, he only of those present, when they saw him standing on the shore, could not wait till the boat should convey him to the land, but had thrown himself into the sea, leaving the fish which they had enclosed, to continue in their own element, and swam to the shore, not perhaps, without endangering his life, that he might not delay to receive and welcome his Lord. * Matthew xv. 12-19. These, and probably many other things, evidential of the reality and strength of his love to Christ, Simon might have alleged, notwithstanding his late defection--distinctions, which perhaps none of his fellow disciples could have pleaded; and which, had any share of the pharisaic spirit rested on him, might have induced him to claim that superiority to his brethren, which a certain church afterwards attributed to him. To have mentioned these, might have strengthened the charity of his fellow disciples towards him; but he knew that none of them were requisite, to convince Christ of his love. Though he had done, and suffered, and exposed himself for Christ, more than others, he put in no claim to a reward--he had done less than was his duty. His dependence was on grace. Therefore did he decline the mention, of what some would have boasted, and appealed directly to his Savior, as the searcher of hearts, to judge of the matter in question--of his love, and the measure of it--appealed to him who had put the question, _lovest thou me more than these?_ To clear up his character and bear witness to the reality and measure of his affection toward him--_Yea Lord, thou knowest that I love thee_. In this appeal he not only shewed his sincerity, but reflected honor on Christ, by an acknowledgement of his divinity. The knowledge of the heart is the prerogative of Deity. "I the Lord search the heart, I try the reins, to give to every man according to his way, and according to the fruit of his doings. The Lord searcheth all hearts, and understandeth the imaginations of the thoughts." The exalted Savior, afterwards made himself known as possessing this power, and appointed to exercise it, in adjusting the rewards of another life. "All the churches shall know that I am he who searcheth the hearts and reins; and I will give to every one of you according to your works." But this had not been clearly revealed, when Christ paid the visit to his disciples at the sea of Tiberias. The Christian dispensation was then scarcely set up. Darkness still brooded on the minds, even of the apostles. It continued till the outpouring of the Spirit, on the day of Pentecost, when the promise of "the Comforter, to teach them all things, and bring all things to their remembrance," was fulfilled. But Simon seems to have anticipated these public manifestations and discoveries--to have at this time been convinced, that Christ was omniscient--THOU KNOWEST ALL THINGS; _thou knowest that I love thee_. In this appeal, Christ was farther honored, by Simon's open, public reliance on his goodness. He had then lately dishonored Christ, by a shameful denial--a denial, when to have acknowledged him, would have done him the greatest honor. But such was his confidence in the goodness of his Lord, that he dared to trust himself with him--had no concern, that resentment of the part he had acted, would induce him, in whom he trusted, to overlook his penitence, and pass his humble confidence unnoticed--did not fear to trust himself in Christ's hands, and leave it to him to make known his character to his fellow disciples. In these things the faith of Simon, and the nature of his faith appeared. He not only believed Jesus to be the Christ, but he believed the divinity of Christ. His faith did not terminate in a bare assent, but convinced of his sufficiency, and of his justice, and mercy and readiness to forgive the returning penitent, he gave himself up to Christ and trusted in him to pardon his sins and save him by his grace. Though sensible of his own demerit, fear did not drive him away from the Savior, but induced him to return to him and put his whole trust in him. Such is the nature of justifying faith. Those who are subjects of it, deeply sensible of their sins, "look to the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world," and place all their dependence on him; and they are not disappointed--; "Whoso believeth shall not be ashamed." Thus Simon's faith and love were owned of Christ; and this late offender not only pardoned, but continued in his office; a pastor of Christ's flock. _Feed my lambs--Feed my sheep_, were the replies to the appeals made by the offender, that he loved the Savior. In this manner was he directed, III. To manifest his love to Christ.--It might have been thought that Simon had fallen from his office when he denied his Lord; with oaths and imprecations, denied his knowledge of him. If so, he was here restored; Christ entrusted him again with the care "of his flock --which he had purchased with his blood;" and reappointed him to "give them their meat in due season." His having had this charge here given him, argued the pardon of his offences, and his restoration to favor. He would not have been required to do the work of an apostle, had not his transgression been forgiven, and his sin been blotted out. Judas had no such trust reposed in him after his fall; no such duty required of him. "By his transgression he fell from his ministry and apostleship, that he might go to his own place, and another take his office." Judas repented; but not with repentance unto life. His repentance led to death by his own hand. Diverse was that of Simon, both in its nature and effects. His was "Godly sorrow, which wrought repentance unto life"--which caused him to devote himself wholly to the service of the Redeemer, and at last to lay down his life for his sake. REFLECTIONS I. Our subject teacheth the folly of felt dependence. Who ever appeared to have stronger confidence in himself than Peter? Yet few have fallen more shamefully than he. If we lean to ourselves, like things will probably befall us. Our strength is weakness. Our enemies are many and powerful; they are long versed in the arts of deception; well acquainted with our weakness; know how, and when, and where to attack us to advantage. Left to ourselves, we should doubtless be snared and taken by them. Simon was naturally bold and resolute; had great love to Christ, and zeal for his honor: Yet all did not enable him "to stand in the evil day." If Peter fell, who, left to himself, can stand? Not one. But God is able to make the weakest and most feeble stand, and will make them stand if they trust in him. "My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness." Blessed are they who trust in him. II. An high opinion of a person's own strength, or love to God and the Redeemer, is most commonly the prelude to a fall. When one thinks himself strong, and feels secure, he is soon taught weakness and dependence, and the need he stands in of a divine guardian, by some advantage gained over him by the enemy: Whereas, those who are sensible of their own weakness, and trust in God, are holden up, and made to stand. "Most gladly, therefore, will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon--me for when I am weak, then am I strong." III. As self knowledge is of great importance, unnecessary to our reforming that which is amiss, and to our trading in him who is able to keep us, we should often try ourselves, as in his presence--his, to whom our hearts are open. It becomes us often to retire inward, and examine whether the love of Christ dwelleth in us? _Whether we love him more than these_? Than the world and the things of it? If Christ is not uppermost in our hearts, "we are not worthy of him." But if we can answer the question put to Simon, as he answered it, _Lord thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee_, happy are we. We remain in a state of imperfection--may often have occasion to mourn some practical denial of Christ; still, if _he who knoweth all things, knoweth that we love him_, our love to him will not he overlooked; he will own us before his Father, and reward us with eternal rewards. IV. Christ's disciples, while in the body, often err; if acquainted with ourselves, we must often know this of ourselves; do we then see our faults? If any who call themselves Christians live in neglect of self examination, and are consequently strangers to themselves, there is great reason to fear that they are strangers also to the Christian life. The Christian communes much with his own heart, and finds daily occasion to mourn before God, that his service is so defective, and that he so often denies his Lord, by heedless lapses, or by suffering temptation to have such power over him. When the Lord looked on Peter, and thereby brought to his remembrance the warnings which he had given him, his confidence in himself, and then his fall, he went out and wept bitterly. Every Christian hath a measure of this spirit, and is grieved at his heart, when he calls to mind his shameful denials of his Lord. If any, who think themselves his disciples are blind to their faults, or little affected with them--ready to excuse or extenuate them, especially if hidden from the world; or feel reluctant to take shame to themselves, when they have fallen, it nearly concerns them to examine the grounds of their hope toward God; there is reason to fear that they "hold a lie in their right hands." Those who are Christ's discern their faults; confess and forsake them. Their falls art made the occasion of greater watchfulness, and care to keep themselves from every wicked thing, and perfect holiness in the fear of God. May he grant this to be our temper, for his mercy's sake in Christ. Amen. * * * * * * SERMON XIV. Gifts no certain Evidence of Grace. Luke x. 20 "In this rejoice not, that the Spirits are subject unto you; but rather rejoice, because your Names are written in Heaven." Abundant notice of Christ's coming preceded that interesting' event. "To him gave all the prophets witness." Neither was his entrance here unattended. It was announced by an angelic choir; by a miraculous star; and by a band of eastern magi. The manger which contained him, was particularly pointed out to the shepherds, and his person designated by inspired Simon and Anna. Again, When entering on his ministry, witness was given for him, both from heaven, and on earth; from heaven by the visible descent of the Holy Ghost, which rested on him, and by a voice testifying that he was the Son in God; on earth by John, and soon after by the seventy: For these were sent to prepare his way, and introduce him to his work. John was sent before, "to make ready a people prepared for the Lord" --"Repent for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." The seventy, to declare him then entering on his ministry--"The kingdom of God is come nigh unto you."--John did no miracles; but the seventy witnessed Christ's truth, and their own by wonders wrought in his name. In the orders given to them at their mission, we find them only directed to heal the sick, as an evidence of Christ's arrival, and their being sent of him; but by the report made at their return they appeared to have been empowered to cast out devils. They probably did all the mighty works done by the twelve, and by their Lord. Thus they prepared his way. Doing miracles in Christ's name would raise in those who witnessed it, a desire to see him of whom they spake, and whose power they displayed: And "they were sent two and two before his face into every city and place whither he himself would come." Had they only proclaimed his arrival, some might have listened; but few would have "believed their report." Greater evidence than their word would have been demanded; as was afterwards of Christ--"What sign shewest thou, that we may believe thee?" Neither would the demand have been unreasonable. Special messages require special evidence; and it is always given to those who are sent of God. Every deceiver may pretend to a divine mission; but we are forbidden to "believe every spirit, and commanded to try the spirits." The church at Ephesus is commended for having obeyed this command--"Thou hast tried them which say that they are apostles, and are not, and hast found them liars." Our Savior speaking of the Jews' rejection of him, aggravates their guilt, by a consideration or the plenitude of the evidence which had been given them of his truth. "If I had not done among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin--but now they have no cloak for their sin--they have both seen and hated both me and my Father." * * John xv. 22-24. At the return of the seventy they appear to have been elated with the exercise of the miraculous powers which had been delegated to them--"And the seventy returned again with joy, saying, Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy name." They had witnessed Christ's miracles, but seem not to have wrought miracles themselves till now; and when they found themselves able to do the mighty works which they had admired in their Lord they were filled with joy. Having made their report, Christ enlarged their powers and promised them protection--"Behold I give you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing shall by any means hurt you." But to prevent them from setting an undue value on these distinctions, the caution in the text is subjoined--"_Notwithstanding, in this rejoice not that the spirits are subject unto you; but rather, rejoice because your names are written in heaven_". In discussing the subject, we will, first _consider the caution or prohibition--In this rejoice not that the spirits are subject unto you; then the command--But rather rejoice because your names are written in heaven_. I. WE are to consider the caution, or prohibition--_In this rejoice not, &c_. But why not? Was it not matter of joy that spirits, evil spirits were subject to them? That they were able to dislodge them from the bodies of men, by commanding them in Christ's name? Certainly. This enabled them to answer the ends of their mission, which had been but very partially answered without it. Wherefore then the prohibition? It is rather the excess of their joy, than the joy itself which is here forbidden. They seem to have placed an undue value on this power; to have exalted it above it's place, particularly as it concerned themselves. This was the first thing they mentioned at their return; nothing beside seems to have made so deep an impression upon them, or to have given them equal self importance. To them there were other things more interesting and important; that they were accepted of God, and numbered among the faithful, and that their _names were written_ in heaven, were to them occasions of much greater joy. The gift of miracles proved their mission, and drew the attention of those who witnessed their mighty works; but this was not a saving gift. A person might possess it, yet remain unrenewed, and perish in his sins. Some appear to have exercised this power, who professed no relation to Christ, but were openly connected with his enemies. This is evident from his expostulation with those who attributed to infernal agency, the authority with which he extorted obedience from evil spirits--"If I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your sons cast them out? Therefore shall they be your judges." * The same appears from another incident, recorded by St. Mark--"And John answered, saying, Master, we saw one casting on devils in thy name, and he followed not us, and we forbid him, because he followeth not us. And Jesus said, Forbid him not: For there is no man who shall do a miracle in my name, that can lightly speak evil of me." + * Luke xi. 19. + St. Mark ix. 38, 39. It seems that some who had seen the disciples cast out devils in Christ's name, though not themselves his disciples, attempted to do the same and succeeded; and that things of this nature were not uncommon after Christ began his ministry; though it did not always, if at all succeed, after his sufferings and exaltation. ++ ++ Acts xix. 13. The gift of miracles, like other gifts, was distinct from sanctifying grace. This grace was often joined with that gift; but not always. There was no necessary connexion between them. Under the former dispensation, the gift of prophecy did not certainly argue a renewed nature. It was sometimes given without it. Balaam had this gift. The deceiver who brought back the man of God who was sent from Judah to reprove Jeroboam, had it. By divine order he told the Jew what would happen to him, because he disobeyed the word of the Lord, and returned to eat bread in that place. Neither is there a trait of sanctity visible on the prophet Jonah, though he was compelled to bear God's messages to Ninevah, and used to make other special communications to men. Under the gospel dispensation divine administration hath seen the same. Judas had doubtless the gift of miracles in common with his fellow disciples; and many will appeal to the judge in the great day, that they "have prophesied in his name, in his name cast out devils, and in his name done many wonderful works, to whom he will profess, I never knew you," and whom he will send away among the workers of iniquity. Men are too often estimated by their gifts. Many consider those as the best men who possess the most enlarged, and especially the most showy talents; and despise those of a different description, as though their gifts and graces must be equal. But this is wrong. A person may possess the talents of an angel of light, who hath the temper of an infernal. Such is probably the state of apostate spirits. And some of the greatest of mankind have been some of the worst and most abandoned. Though this must be evident to the considerate, there is yet a disposition in man to judge others, yea, and himself too, by gifts apart from the grace which falsifies gifts, and renders them beneficial, both to the possessor, and to the world; and at the same time keeps the possessor humble, and prevents him from thinking of himself, above that which he ought to think. Neither are the renewed out of danger from this quarter. Sanctification being imperfect, distinguished gifts, or usefulness, or uncommon divine communications, are liable to be abused and made to foster pride and raise in the worm too high an opinion of himself. St. Paul "though not a whit behind the very chiefest apostles," needed something to keep him humble and prevent him from being elated by the revelations which were made to him. And he left these things on record as a warning to others; and particularly noted them to the church at Corinth, which abounded with miraculous gifts, and among whom they were exceedingly abused. He declared them not only inferior to charity, or holy love, but, considered in themselves, as of no estimation in a moral view; that a person might possess them in the highest degree, and yet be nothing in religion--"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though 1 have all faith, so that I could remove mountains and have, not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing." * The apostle here supposeth a person possessed of the most eminent miraculous gifts, yet wholly destitute of religion. Could no such case happen, he would not have made the supposition. He did not write to amuse, but to edify and instruct. * 1 Cor xiii. 1, &c. Some at Corinth prided themselves in their gifts and despised others --perhaps men's moral state was estimated by them. Therefore did he show the use of those gifts--that they were distinct from renewing grace--that the latter was more excellent than the former; and that the possession of the latter could not be argued from the exercise of the former. Those gifts were very useful at that day, and in that city, which was filled with idolatry, and almost the headquarters of paganism; but to the possessor they were of less value than Christian graces--"Covet earnestly the best gifts; and yet shew I unto you a more excellent way"--Namely, the charity described in the following chapter, of which we have been treating above. To prevent the seventy from indulging the spirit which the apostle afterwards thus reproved at Corinth, was the design of the caution given them in the text. Christ observed how they valued themselves on their gifts and checked the spirit its beginning. _Rejoice not that the spirits are subject unto you._ II. We are to consider the command--_But rather rejoice because your names are written in heaven_. The names of the saints are represented as _written in Heaven_, This language is figurative, accommodated to human weakness. God hath promised salvation to the faithful and caused them to hope in his mercy; but memorandums are not necessary to remind him of his promises, or records in heaven to entitle the faithful to the heavenly inheritance. God's counsels are always before him. The phraseology of the text is borrowed from the customs of men, who need memorandums and records to secure the fulfillment of engagements. When men are made free of a city, or state, they are enrolled in the archives of the community--Thence probably the metaphorical language of the text, and similar scriptures: For we often find matters which are determined in the divine councils represented as written in celestial records--Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another, and the Lord hearkened and heard, and _a book of remembrance was written before him_, for them that thought on "his name." Zion is said to be "graven on the palms of his hands"--The saints to be _written_ "in the book of life--The dead to be judged out of the things _written_ in the books" which will be opened at the grand assize when the world will be judged in righteousness. As the rewards of grace are made sure to the righteous, the address to the seventy speaks their knowledge of it--_Rejoice because your names are written in heaven_. They could not rejoice in an unknown good. But the manner in which their privileged state is mentioned supposes them acquainted with it. Christ did not here reveal it--did not say, _your names are written in heaven, therefore rejoice_, but rejoice because they are written there--because you know it to be the case. Neither do they appear to have possessed knowledge, in this respect, which others are denied. Others are also exhorted to rejoice in the Lord. The suffering Christians of that age were often reminded of the rewards in reserve for them, as what would abundantly compensate all their sufferings here; which supposed them acquainted with their title to glory. But how did they attain this knowledge? And how may others attain it? By considering the conditions of the promises and seeing that they have complied with them. The promises are made to faith and repentance, to love and obedience. Where these are found on a person, that person may know that _his name is written in heaven_. Obedience flows from faith and love. "Every good tree bringeth forth good fruit." The fruits of grace, are the evidences of grace, and the only evidences on which there is dependence. Should an angel from heaven testify to a person that his name was written there, the evidence should be inferior to that which ariseth from the Christian temper evidenced by fruits of holiness. If these were found, that would be useless; if wanting, inefficient. "By their fruits ye shall know them. In this the children of God are manifest." Had a person such testimony from heaven, he could know that the bearer was from above, only by attending to his own heart and life. "Satan can transform himself into an angel of light." Permitted of God he might have access to our minds and persuade us that _our names were written in heaven_, while we remained enemies to God and under the condemning sentence of his law, had we no rule by which to try ourselves, and judge of our state; but this is not denied us. Yet some are probably deceived, through infernal influence, and filled with vain hopes. Mistaking the sophistry of Satan, for the operation of the divine Spirit, they boast communion with God and call themselves his children while no portion of the Christian temper is found upon them. Doubtless some, who have gloried in special divine communications have been deceived, relative to the nature and source of the operations which they have experienced. Supposed visions and revelations, are often no other than illusions of fancy, freaks of imagination, or effects of diabolical influence, those affected with them often appear confident of that which sober reason rejects as groundless. If when we turn the eye inward, we discover faith in Christ, sorrow for sin, love to God, devotedness to his service, and reliance on his grace through a Mediator, and these are evidenced by fruits of holiness, we need no other evidence that _our names are written in heaven_: But if there are wanting, hope is vain and confidence delusive--Gifts, the most extraordinary, even those of prophecy and miracles are totally unavailing. They leave us but as "sounding brass and tinkling cymbals." Instances of this kind have formerly occurred: They may occur again. It concerns us therefore to look to ourselves, and see that our hopes are not built on the sand. REFLECTIONS. I. The subjection of evil spirits to Christ shows the universality of his dominion: For even apostate spirits have not, in every respect, broken from under his government. He sets them their bounds which they cannot pass. "Hitherto shalt thou come and no farther." When dislodged from a man by his order they cannot not enter a swine without his permission. They are permitted indeed to indulge depravity, but no farther than infinite wisdom sees it; and oftentimes their malice is made subservient to the divine purposes. While Christ had his residence on earth, they were permitted to possess the bodies of men, and his superior power was manifested in their ejection, and thereby a few species of evidence was given to his truth of the gospel--yea they were sometimes made to confess him, when men denied him! "I know thee who thou art; the Holy One of God." * * Luke iv. 34. In various ways God hath made use of apostate spirits to effect his holy and merciful designs. They have been used to try the faith, and thereby fit them for glory and honor--Witness the strange trials brought on Job! And all served to restrain pride and depravity, and by the trial of his faith and exercise of his graces, to prepare him for a brighter crown. They may also be instrumental in bringing sinners to repentance. St. Paul speaks of "delivering one to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit might be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus: And of delivering men to Satan, that they might learn not to blaspheme." * * 1 Cor. v. 5, 1 Tim. i. 20. II. Our subject teacheth us not to value ourselves on account of gifts, or powers. Gifts and grace, we have seen to be distinct --that the former are a kind of common flock, designed not so much for the benefit of the possessor, as of the public; and that a person may possess them in large measure, and yet continue a rebel against God and perish in his rebellion. God hath wise reasons for the bestowment of gifts, and, in someway, gets glory to himself thereby. But every talent is liable to abuse. If any man abuse them God will require it. Justice may be glorified, where goodness is neglected, and grace despised. There is power with God to compel such use of his gifts as he requires. By overruling the degeneracy of fallen creatures, they often subserve the more mischievous. Gifts, under the influence his holy purposes. Princes who know him not, are often instrumental in executing his designs.--the Assyrian and Persian monarchs were formerly made to execute his judicial designs on other nations and on his people, though "they meant not so, neither did their hearts think so." Other potentates do the same, and in the same way. Yea God hath power to compel unwilling obedience to his known commands, and hath sometimes done it. Balaam was made to bless Israel and foretel their greatness, while yet the enemy of Israel, and of the God of Israel; and Jonah, to bear God's messages to Nineveh. To be thus used of God gives no title to his favor. "When God had performed his whole work on Mount Zion," he punished the proud Assyrian whom he had used in the execution of his justice: And Balaam perished among the enemies of Israel. Service undesignedly performed, and that which is the effect of constraint, find no encouragement in revelation. "If I do this thing willingly, I have a reward; but if against my will, a dispensation is committed unto me; what is my reward then?" III. Though it is lawful to covet earnestly the best gifts, there is a more "excellent way"--there is that which is more valuable, especially to the possessor--the grace which sanctifies the heart. If we have this grace the more gifts we possess the better--they are all consecrated to the service of God. If we have only gifts they may render us of grace, are beneficial, but under that of depravity, baleful in their effects. Some pride themselves in the powers which they possess, and despise those of inferior abilities--some mistake gifts for graces, or the sure evidences of them. But the day is at hand which will correct mistakes, and exhibit every thing in its proper light. Then the humble followers of the Lamb, who pass through life unnoticed, or unknown, will be found written in heaven, and will be owned and honored, as the redeemed of the Lord. But those who neglect the grace offered in Christ, though they may possess the greatest powers--may speak with tongues of men and angels, and have all faith to the removing of mountains, will be denied of the eternal Judge, and sent away into everlasting punishment. Wherefore, _rejoice not, though the spirits may be subject unto you; but rather rejoice because your names are written in heaven_. * * * * * * SERMON XV. Human Characters determined only by Divine decision. 1 Corinthians iv. 3, 4. "But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you, or of man's judgment; yea I judge not mine own self. For I know nothing by myself, yet am I not hereby justified: but he that judgeth me is the Lord." Corinth was one of the principal cities of Greece. Enjoying every advantage of situation, it became rich and populous. Most cities in similar circumstances have become vicious. This became exceedingly so. The religion of Corinth was paganism, which naturally led to sundry vices. Bacchus and Venus had there their temples and their votaries; and luxury, the child of affluence, led to vice generally. From such a combination of circumstances, the inhabitants, like the men of Sodom, "were sinners before the Lord exceedingly." It might be justly stiled, like Pergamos, "The place where Satan's seat was." Yet God had much people in that city, which continue and labor in it, which he did for more than eighteen months. Nor did he labor in vain. He gathered there a large and flourishing church; which appears to have been enriched with a greater effusion of miraculous gifts, than any other of the primitive churches. The state of Corinth, where God had been unknown, and where superstition had reigned, might render this necessary in order to give success to the gospel. Miracles are adapted to arrest the attention of those who would be deaf to the voice of reason and regardless of proofs drawn from it. But those gifts were abused. They were made the occasion of pride, and of divisions: Which shews that there is nothing in the nature or miraculous gifts, which secures the proper use of them; that they are no evidence of renovation. Though the apostle labored to great and happy effect in that city of the Gentiles, after his departure, deceitful workers went among them, and availed themselves of his absence to make divisions, and alienate their affections from him. This seems to have occasioned his writing the epistles addressed to them, which constitutes a valuable part of the sacred volume. The calumnies of his enemies, and the effect which they had on the Corinthians, are alluded to in the text; which contains an expression of his feelings on the occasion. In discussing the subject, we shall just glance at these matters, and add a brief improvement. St. Paul's character, both as a Minister and as a Christian, was impeached by those enemies. They represented him as an unfaithful, or unskillful laborer in the gospel, and as one who was not a subject of divine grace. This appears from his statement in the beginning of the context, and from the text. Let a man so account of us as of the ministers of Christ, and stewards of the mysteries of God. Moreover it is required in stewards that a man be found faithful, "_But with me it is a very small thing, that I should be judged of you, or of man's judgment, yea, I judge not mine own self. For I know nothing by myself, yet am I not hereby justified: But he that judgeth me is the Lord_." The apostle here professeth himself "a minister of Christ and steward of the mysteries of God," and directs the Corinthians to consider him in that light; or as one put in trust with the gospel to teach its mysteries, inculcate its truths, urge its duties, and tender its supports. The term _mystery_ is used in Scripture, to express things not discoverable by the light of reason, but knowable by revelation. It is also used to express incomprehensibles; which may be objects of faith on the credit of divine truth. The former is the more common sense of the term in the gospel, particularly in the passage before us, and generally in St. Paul's epistles. "We speak the wisdom of God in a _mystery_--the hidden wisdom, which God ordained before the world unto our glory; which none of the princes of this world knew; for had they known it they would not have crucified the Lord of glory. But it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. _But God hath revealed them into us by his Spirit_." The gospel plan of salvation was a _mystery_, a hidden _mystery_, till the gospel day. It was hidden from the prophets who foretold it; and from the apostles, till after Christ's sufferings and resurrection. They understood very little of it; knew almost nothing about it till after the ascension, when the comforter was sent down "to teach them all things, and bring all things to their remembrance." To them it was then matter of wonder. They had not been made to understand that Christ was to bear the sins of men--"that he was to suffer and enter into his glory:" And when he did suffer, "they knew not the Scripture, that he must rise again from the dead." Another gospel _mystery_ was the calling of the Gentiles--that salvation was intended for them, and to be offered to them, in Christ, equally as to the natural seed of Jacob. "If ye have heard of the dispensation of the grace of God, which is given me to you ward; how that by revelation he made known unto me _the mystery_--which in other ages was not made known unto the sons of men, as it is now revealed unto his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit: _That the Gentiles should be fellow heirs, and of the same body, and partakers of his promise in Christ, by the Gospel_, whereof I am made a minister." * * Ephesian iii. 2-7. These were some of the mysteries dispensed by this steward of the mysteries of God; who "shunned not to declare all the counsel of God." He declared the deep things, which human reason could not have discovered; and those also which it cannot comprehend. These are to be found in Paul's teachings, as well as the plain things which are easy to be understood. But the principal business of this "steward o the mysteries of God," was to open the way of salvation through a Savior, and shew that provision is made in him for the salvation of both Jews and Gentiles, and offered alike to those of every nation; and to lead men to the knowledge of themselves and the Redeemer, and teach them how they might be benefited by divine grace in him. And while he acknowledged the obligations, of fidelity, he declared himself no way greatly affected by the judgment which might be passed upon him by his fellow mortals. _But with me it is a small thing to be judged of you, or of man's judgment_. An intimation that he was judged and censured by some of them. This was, doubtless, matter of notoriety at Corinth; but he little regarded it. It made no change in him, or in the manner in which he discharged the duties of his office. He was chiefly concerned to obtain the approbation of an higher tribunal that of his divine matter, the------dge of all. The judgment of fellow mortals did not move him--_He that judgeth me is the Lord_. Not that he was wholly indifferent to the opinion entertained of him by his fellow men. Had be been so, he would not have undertaken his own defence as in these epistles, A measure of esteem was necessary to his usefulness in the ministry. Had all who heard him thought him the enemy of God, he could have done no good in it. Therefore his endeavor to rectify their mistakes. And the rather because he held the truth as it is in Jesus; so that in rejecting him, and the doctrines which he taught, they turned aside into errors which might fatally mislead them. But he did not wrong his conscience to please them, or depart from truth to gain their approbation--"Do I seek to please men? For if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ." Had Paul been chiefly concerned to please men, he would have continued a Pharisee. The person who would please Christ, while paying such deference to the opinions of men as fairly to weigh every objection against his faith or practice, and try them by the divine rule, must be careful to conform to that rule, whatever opinions may be entertained of him. Of the meaning of the rule he must judge for himself before God--"calling no man master." The reasons of his faith and practice, and his construction of the divine rule, he may lay before his fellow men, to remove the grounds of prejudice; but he must rise so far above their frowns a------atteries, as not to be influenced by them to disguise his sentiments, or counteract his own judgment of the law of God, of the gospel of Christ, or of the duties incumbent on him. It is not by human judgments that we are to stand or fall. It is happy that this is the case; that the good man hath a judge more just and candid than his fellow servants; one who knows and pities his weakness, though he hath none of his own: "Let me fall into the hands of the Lord, for his mercies are great; and let me not fall into the hand of man." But the apostle did not stop with a declaration that the judgment of others did not move him; he brought it home to himself: _Yea, I judge not mine own self. For I know nothing by myself, yet am I not hereby justified; but he that judgeth me is the Lord_. St. Paul had a witness in himself that he was sincere and upright before God--"Our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience, that in simplicity, and Godly sincerity, not by fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had our conversation in the world, and more abundantly toward you." The same is the import of his declaration in the text--"_I know nothing by myself_--am conscious of no allowed wickedness--of no willful error, either in profession or practice." But he dared not to assert that he had made no mistakes--_yet am I not hereby justified_. He knew himself liable to error--did not "trust his own heart". _He that judgeth me is the Lord_--"his judgment is according to truth-- that will determine my character, and fix my doom." The apostle could remember a time in which he had conscientiously done wrong. He had persecuted the church; killed Christ's disciples, and thought he was doing right; verily believed that he was doing God service!--Now he acted conscientiously in "preaching the faith he had once destroyed"--in the manner of his preaching it; and discharging every ministerial and Christian duty; though he was censured and calumniated by some, and suspected by others. He followed the light of his own mind, and determined to follow it; so to act as not to be condemned of himself. But he knew that the standard of rectitude did not follow his views, and vary with his judgment. "If his heart did not condemn him, he had confidence toward God; yet he knew God to be greater than his heart," and possessed of all knowledge; dared not therefore affirm that his judge would approve of all which he approved--_Yet am I not hereby justified--he that judgeth me is the Lord_. IMPROVEMENT. I. We See that censure may be incurred without neglect of duty, When Paul converted to Christianity, he was made an apostle, and ordered of the Redeemer to preach the gospel. He obeyed. He was guided in his work by the spirit of God; yet he was blamed by some, and suspected by others. That Christ's faithful servants are slandered and reproached is not a new thing under the sun. It hath been common among men. And herein they are only made like their Lord. And shall they think it strange? "It is enough for the disciple that he be as his master, and the servant as his Lord. If they call the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more them of his household?" When opposition and reproaches come from those who profess friendship to Christ they wound the deeper. This however, hath often happened. It happened to the apostle at Corinth, and elsewhere. If we witness that which is similar, we need not be surprized, as though some strange thing had happened. II. Are we unjustly censured by our fellow servants, or reproached while in the way of our duty? We have here an example worthy our imitation. St. Paul was chiefly concerned to approve himself to God. We should be so too--should study to acquaint ourselves with the divine rule, and to conform to it; not disobeying God to please men. Great care is requisite to know our duty. Enveloped in darkness, and biassed to error, it is often difficult to find out the right way. But we are not left without instruction. A rule is given us by which we may "judge of ourselves, what is right." Of that role we must judge for ourselves, and by it try ourselves. "To our own master we stand or fall." To obtain his approbation should be our chief concern. "If God be with us, who can be against us?" III. Knowing ourselves fallible, it becomes us to maintain a jealousy over ourselves, and be constantly on our guard. We should consider, that though we do not sin wilfully, and our own hearts do not condemn us, _yet we are not hereby justified_. We are conscious that we have often, erred, and made wrong conclusions, when we did not design to leave the right way. We are liable to do the same again. Our eye should therefore be to God for direction and guidance--"That which I know not, teach thou me; if I have done iniquity, I will do no more." This is the more necessary, because "the light which is in us may have become darkness." For there are those who "put darkness for light and light for darkness." Those with whom this is the case know it not; they flatter themselves and cry peace. "To the pure, all things are pure; but to them that are defiled, and unbelieving, is nothing pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled." This often happens to those who for a time yield to temptation and go in to the ways of sin; they contract false principles, and judge by them, and probably sometimes live and die under the deceptive influence of their darkening power. None would dare to plead before the bar of Christ, that they were his disciples, "and had eat and drank in his presence," had they not been deceived into false views of duty, and mistaken apprehensions of the conditions of acceptance with him. Judging well of ourselves doth not ensure justification at the bar of heaven. Our judgments of ourselves may be erroneous. If they are so, they will be reversed. We shall "be judged out of the books, according to our works;" not according to our false and deceitful views. _I know nothing by myself, yet, am I not hereby justified. For not he that commandeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth_. * * * * * * SERMON XVI. Characters will be disclosed, and Justice awarded. 1 Corinthians iv. 5. "--Judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who both wilt bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts; and then shall everyman have praise of God." St. Paul having professed himself a minister of Christ, and steward of the mysteries of God, acknowledged the obligations of fidelity, and disclaimed anxious concern respecting the opinion entertained of him by his fellow men, because the Lord was his judge, here adds a caution, reprehensive of the censorious spirit of the Corinthians, who seem to have listened to his enemies, and given into their suspicions of the apostle. _Therefore judge nothing before the time_-- In the text we observe a caution against rash judging the characters of men--a declaration that they will be known when the Lord comes --and that some things commendable will then be found in all--then shall every man have praise of God. We observe-- I. A caution _against rash judging the characters of men--judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come_. Civil judges may give judgment according to law and evidence, on those brought before them for trial--so may the church on those arraigned at her tribunal. These are necessary to the subsistence of civil and ecclesiastical communities; therefore ordered of God. It is another species of judging which is here forbidden; judging the characters of men, especially such as profess Godliness, and appear to act sincerely; pretending to determine their moral state, before the motives which actuate them are disclosed. This is judging before the time, and without evidence on which to ground a judgment; which the wise man observes to be folly and a shame to him who doth it. This had been done at Corinth, by the enemies of the apostle; and hath been done by others in every age. There have ever been people who have dared to scatter their censorious decisions at random, according to the prevalence of humor, caprice, or prejudice; often to the wounding of the faithful; and rending of the body of Christ. This occasions temporary mischief; but the day is coming when all those disorders will be rectified. The censurer, and the censured, will stand at the same bar, and be tried by the same Judge. Every wrong judgment will then be reversed, and every injurious suspicion be removed. For, II. Every _man's character will be known when the Lord comes--who will bring to light the hidden sufferings of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts_. Many things necessary to determine the moral characters of men are hidden from mortal eyes. We are ignorant of _the counsels_ of the hearts--do not know their purposes and views. Without this knowledge, right judgment cannot be formed. Our knowledge of ourselves is imperfect. For self knowledge we have advantages which we have not for the knowledge of others. We can turn inward, and contemplate the motives which govern, and the views which actuate us. But pride, passion, prejudice, or the corrupt bias, operating in ways unperceived, often blinds the mental eye, and renders us strangers at home. "Whoso trusteth his own heart is a fool.--The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, who can know it?" It requires great attention to form a just judgment of ourselves--yea, to attain that self knowledge which is necessary for us. With regard to the knowledge of others, the difficulty is still greater. We can neither see the heart, nor know the thoughts and designs. We are often at a loss for the motives which occasion things which fall under our observation. Other things which might cast light upon them, are hidden from us. But when the Lord cometh, the veil spread over secret matters will be removed. "There is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed, or hid that shall not be known." _The Lord will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and make manifest the counsels of the hearts_. How hearts will be opened to view, we know not. Perhaps when the veil of flesh is removed, minds may possess an intuitive knowledge of each other--be able to look into one another, as while in the body, they look into themselves. Here, this is mercifully prevented; but may be no longer necessary in another state of existence. It may be requisite, to that investigation of characters which we are taught to expect at Christ's coming. For it is the language of the text, and other Scriptures, that every impediment to the complete knowledge of each other, will then be done away; that no person's character will longer remain problematical. _The hidden works of darkness will be brought to light, and the counsels of the hearts made manifest_. Astonishing scenes of wickedness will then, no doubt, be disclosed. Probably each one will discover things in himself which he had not suspected--depravity, unfairness, disingenuity, the bare suspicion of which by others, would be resented as affrontive. When the prophet forewarned Hazael of the cruelties which he would exercise when he should be king of Syria, his nature seemed to revolt --he could not suspect himself capable of such enormities. "But what! is thy servant a dog?" But all was verified when he had ascended the throne! But though a world of hidden iniquity will appear when the counsels of the hearts shall be made manifest. Good things will also be opened to view which had till that day been concealed--yea, III. Some _things commendable will be found in all, Then shall every man have praise of God_. All are sinners. "There is none good but one, that is God." Some "are sinners exceedingly." Some will continue such till they shall have time no longer--die as they have lived, and be sentenced to "have their part in the lake of fire--which is the second death." But though numbers of this description will be found when the Lord comes, it is presumed that there will be none among them in whom there wilt be nothing commendable--who will never have done a praise worthy action. When "every work is brought into judgment and every secret thing, whether it be good or evil," every thing commendable which hath been done by the wicked, will come into the reckoning. Nothing will be overlooked, because done by sinners. The prejudices inherent in mankind often render them blind to what is commendable in an enemy, and cause them to magnify his failings; but not so the Deity. God is perfect. "The way of man will he render unto him," whatever may be his general character. The saints are not equal in virtue and the attainments of grace. Therefore the differences which will be made among them. When they shall stand before the Judge, their whole probation, with all its circumstances, will be reviewed, and every praise worthy purpose, desire and action will be considered and rewarded. On the other hand, every neglect of duty and every deviation from it will come into the account and make deduction from the weight of glory reserved for them. And among the enemies of God, some will be found greater sinners than others--to have sinned longer--against greater lights, and to have been guilty of more and greater crimes. To such will be reserved the greater weight of woe. In order to these discriminations their whole probation will be considered. And in those on whom sentence of condemnation will pass, the righteous judge will take due notice of every pause which they shall have made in the ways of sin--of every instance in which they may have denied themselves, out of regard to the divine authority, though it may have been out of fear of God's judgments, and of every act of kindness done by them, to a fellow creature. Every thing of this nature, will be considered, and make some deduction from the punishment which would otherwise have been inflicted on them. The judge will pass nothing of this kind unnoticed, condemning the sinner to the same degree of suffering, as though it had not been found upon him. A cup of cold water given to a disciple of Christ, will not lose its reward. * * Matthew x. 42. "Herod feared John, knowing that he was a just man and an holy, and observed him; and when he heard him he did many things, and heard him gladly." Herod's punishment will not be, in every respect, the same, as though he had paid no attention to John's teaching. He will not be punished for refusing to hear John, when he did hear him or for refusing to do, what he did do, in compliance with his counsel: Though he will be condemned as, eventually the murderer of that holy man. His partial obedience might be extorted by fear; but this is preferable to disobedience; otherwise fear would not be urged as a motive to obedience. "Fear him who is able to destroy soul and body in hell." If preferable to disobedience, a difference will be made between those who obey from no higher principle, and those who disobey. Here God certainly makes a difference between them. When Rehoboam humbled himself in the time of his affliction, "the wrath of the Lord turned from him that he would not destroy him: And also in Judah things went well." But his repentance was not unto life. The character given him at his death is that of a wicked man. When Ahab, affrighted by the preaching of Elijah, as he was going to take possession of the vineyard of murdered Naboth, "humbled himself and walked softly:" God signified his approbation of his legal repentance and partial amendment, in preference to his former course; though he afterwards cut him off in his sins. These are unequivocal evidences that partial obedience, though dictated by the servile principle of fear, is preferable, in divine estimation, to allowed disobedience. God makes a difference in his treatment of people here, on this account: suspends his judgments, and mitigates somewhat of their severity, where he sees this kind of relenting in sinners. If God doth this here, is there not reason to believe that he will do it hereafter: The rules of divine administration are doubtless uniform in time and eternity. Where he gives a comparative preference here, he will do the same hereafter. So we observe our Savior noting things commendable in some who did not belong to his kingdom. When the young ruler who came to inquire what he should do to inherit eternal life, declared that he had kept the commandments from his youth up, he was viewed with comparative approbation.--"Then Jesus beholding him, loved him." It is not conceivable that his partial conformity to the divine law had not made him to differ from those who had allowedly disregarded it--that his character was as bad as theirs--though he soon made it evident that the one thing needful was not found upon him. * * Mark x. 17, &c. Some suppose that the unrenewed can do nothing but sin against God _with all their might_--that every purpose of their hearts is _necessarily_ enmity against him, and all their volitions and actions determined opposition to his law and government: But we conceive that neither Scripture, nor experience justify the supposition--that were such their state, they would be in no degree, the subjects of moral government, and would not be addressed of God as moral agents. Were mankind wholly given up of God, and his Spirit withdrawn from them, such might become their state; but this is not the case. The Holy Spirit strives with them. They are empowered to resist the Spirit, or cherish its influences. This is manifest from the divine exhortations addressed to them, and from their conduct. Sometimes they pause in the way to destruction--listen to counsels and warnings--do things which God requires, and deny themselves gratifications which are in their power, because God hath forbidden and threatened to punish them. The person is not to be found who hath not a witness in himself that this is the case. Should we affirm that none, who are in a state of nature, can be influenced by sense of duty to deny themselves, or attempt obedience to God's law, it might give occasion to false hopes. Those, the general course of whose lives is opposition to God, sure that they sometimes deny themselves, and like Herod, do things enjoined from above, might flatter themselves that they were children of God, while belonging to another family, and that they should have peace, when there was no peace to them. _Yet_ when _the Lord cometh, who will bring to light the hidden things of darkness and make manifest the counsels of the hearts, every man shall have praise of God_. God will overlook nothing commendable which may have been done by the vilest of the human race, while on probation; and some things commendable will be found in the most degenerated; though in many, the good will be found so low as to leave them on the whole, the servants of sin, and consequently to take their portion among the workers of iniquity. REFLECTIONS, I. The day is coming which will scatter the darkness or the present state. Here many things confound us. "We see but we understand not." We wonder sometimes at what God orders, and oftener at what be permits. The time approaches in which all these mysteries will be cleared up. We shall perceive wisdom and goodness in all the divine administration. Our wonder at providential regulations will terminate. Now we often wonder at things done by our fellow men--are unable to discover the motives which actuate them--perhaps frequently mistake them. But this uncertainty will not be perpetual. The veil spread over these things will be removed when _the hidden things of darkness are brought to light and the counsels of the hearts made manifest_. Then, every hidden purpose will be laid open, and every secret counsel disclosed. II. Vain are the attempts of mankind to conceal their crimes, or disguise their characters. For a time they may hide their nefarious views, and pass themselves for other manner of persons than they are; but it is only a temporary matter; all are hastening to an omniscient tribunal which will open every heart and life to general inspection. Every one will then be made to stand out, as he is to public view! "Some men's sins are open beforehand, going before to judgment; and some men they follow after. Likewise also the good works of some are manifest beforehand; and they that are otherwise cannot be hid." Hitherto there are secret sins, and mistaken characters; but ere long there will be neither. "Every man's work shall be made manifest, for the day shall declare it." What folly then is hypocrisy? Every one would despise the delinquent, who, while passing to trial should impose on his fellows with protestations of innocence, when he knew the judge acquainted with his guilt, and that he would soon disclose it, and open it to public view. Such is the part acted by those who endeavor to hide their true characters while making their way to the bar of God. III. These considerations, speak comfort to the righteous, and terror to the wicked. The sincerity of the former will ere long be made manifest. All the injurious charges brought against them, will appear to be injurious, and they will he cleared of every aspersion. Their integrity will be displayed, and they _will have praise of God_. Nothing they shall have done or suffered, out of regard to God will be forgotten or go unrewarded. Yea, their desires and purposes to honor him here, though ability or opportunity to carry them into effect might not be allowed them, will be proclaimed and rewarded. "God is not unrighteous to forget your work and labor of love"--"David did well that it was in his heart to build an house to God's name" --therefore the divine promise "to build him an house and establish the throne of his kingdom forever." But the wicked who may have passed through life under the shades of darkness, been mistaken, perhaps, for the righteous, will rise at the great day, "to shame, and everlasting contempt." Their sins will then find them out. For "God's eyes art on the ways of man, and he seeth all his goings. There is no darkness, nor shadow of death, where the workers of iniquity may hide themselves." And all are written in God's book, and reserved to judgment; when he "will give to every one, according to his works. Woe unto the wicked, it shall be ill with him, for the reward of his hands shall be given him." This will be enough to make miserable. There needs no more than the withdrawing of mercy, and leaving justice to take its course. This will be the portion of those who neglect offered salvation. But, IV. Sinners who have, at all, denied themselves, out of regard to the divine authority, or done aught which God required, though ever so partially, will not loose the benefit of it. Proportioned to its nature, and the degree of rectitude found in it, it will deduct from the punishment which the want of it would have occasioned. The condemned will stand speechless before the judge--have no reason to offer why judgment should not be executed upon them. By the clear manifestation of their guilt, and the impartial justice of God, they will be constrained to acknowledge the perfect fairness and equity, yea, the moral necessity of the sentence by which the last gleam of their hope will be extinguished! Thus will both the mercies and judgments of God be justified of all, when he _shall bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and make manifest the counsels of the hearts_. * * * * * * SERMON XVII. God willing that all Men should be saved. 1 Timothy ii. 4. "Who will have all Men to be saved,--." In verse first, the apostle directs "prayers and thanksgivings to be made for all men;"--which he declares to "be good and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior; _who will have all men to be saved_." Had salvation been provided for only a part of the human race, prayer and thanksgivings could have been, consistently made only for a part. Those for whom no provision was made, would be in like state with persons who have committed the sin unto death, for whom St. John intimates prayer is not to be offered up. "There is a sin unto death; I do not say that he shall pray for it." But such is naturally the state of none of the children of Adam. Divine goodness is extended to all, and salvation offered to them; therefore is prayer and praise to be offered up for all men. It is now proposed, _briefly to consider the divine goodness expressed in the text--Who will have all men to be saved--then some abuses of the revelation which is made of this goodness to mankind_. I. We _are to consider the divine goodness here expressed--Who will have all men to be saved_. The salvation intended, is that of the soul. This comprehends deliverance from merited sufferings, and the bestowment of happiness which is the contrast of it. The provision which is made for the comfort and happiness of mankind in this life, evinces strange goodness in God. When we consider what man was made of God, and what he hath made himself, the divine benevolence here displayed, is wonderful! Strange that man was not destroyed and blotted out from among God's works! Some suppose this to have been our first parents idea of the threatening in case of disobedience, and expressed by them, when they attempted to hide themselves from the divine presence, after their fall. * * Genesis iii. 9. Had man then been destroyed, the race would have been extinct. But he was spared; suffered long to continue and rear a family, from which the myriads of human kind have descended. Though exiled Eden, and doomed to labor and sorrow, he was still at the head of this lower creation, and creatures below him generally subservient to his comfortable subsistence. The ground was indeed cursed for his sake and fatiguing cultivation rendered necessary; but still it yielded the necessaries, and many of the comforts of life; though not the sweets of its primitive state. These effusions of divine goodness were probably the wonder of angels, though so little noticed by men, the ungrateful objects of them. But these were inconsiderable, compared with the strange provision made for their eternal salvation. That God bears good will to mankind, not--withstanding their apostasy, and is desirous of their salvation, is from many considerations apparent. It is the spirit of the text, and the general language of the scriptures, as will be shewn in the sequel. That God is willing that all should be saved, appears from the sufficiency of the provision which is made for the salvation of sinners; the frequent declarations that it is designed for all; the offers which are made indiscriminately to all; and the suitableness of the provision to the circumstances of all. 1. From the sufficiency of the provision which is made for the salvation of sinners, This is adequate to the salvation of the whole race. Christ, being a divine person, made an infinite atonement. In him there is a fulness of merit. Was the number of sinners ten times greater than that of our whole race, there would be no need of another Savior, or of Christ's dying again for their redemption. In him "dwells the whole fulness of the Godhead bodily." The reason all are not saved, is not a deficiency of merit in the Redeemer, or any limitation of his satisfaction. Sinners "are not straitened in him, but in their own bowels." 2. That God is willing all should be saved appears from the frequent declarations of scripture, that Christ died for all--Who gave himself a ransom _for all_, to be testified in due time--We see Jesus who was made a little lower than the angels, that he, by the grace of God, should taste death _for every man_. The love of Christ constraineth us; because we thus judge, that if one _died for all_, then were all dead; and that he _died for all_, that they who live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him who died for them, and rose again. 3. The same appears in the offers made _to all_. When after his resurrection Christ sent forth his apostles to effect his gracious purposes, both his orders and promises were indefinite--"Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel _to every creature_. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned." Had salvation been provided for only a part of mankind, and the Savior been unwilling the residue should be saved, he would not have given charge to his ministers to tender salvation _to all--to every creature_, and declared that whoever came up to the specified conditions, should be saved. Nothing false or insincere can be predicted of God our Savior. His words are truth. His offers and proposals are fair and open. That which appears the most obvious meaning of them is their meaning. And surely the offers of salvation appear to be made to all who hear the sound of the gospel; and they are invited and urged to accept them. They were so by Christ. "In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink." * And they were so by his apostles when sent into all the earth to spread the gospel among the nations, and call them to come to Christ for life. * John vii. 37. 4. The same thing appears from the suitableness of the provision which is made for the salvation of sinners, to the circumstances of all men. Man needed an atonement, and he needed assistance, and both are provided in Christ. Of the former we have spoken, and there is no need to add. Man's weakness is such that he is unable of himself to conquer either spiritual enemies without, or his own corruptions within. Through Christ needed aid is offered to him; he is invited to the throne of grace, and assured that he shall not seek in vain, but "obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need. Ask, and it shall be given you; seek and ye shall find--If ye being evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your heavenly father give his Holy Spirit to them that ask him?" Though mankind have rebelled against God, he is more ready to hear their cries, and give his spirit to sanctify and save them, than the most affectionate earthly parent to shew kindness to his child. The gospel is designed as a remedy for human weakness, equally as for human guile. It is every way adapted to the circumstances of the creatures to whom it offers salvation. It is a fair tender of pardon and peace, of life and happiness to all who hear its joyful sound; it not only opens these blessings to their view, but brings them within their reach. 5. The divine benevolence is farther evident from the exercise of forbearance towards ingrates, who neglect and slight offered salvation. God doth not soon enter into judgment with them, but waits with much long suffering; repeats his calls and warnings; urges sinners in various ways, and by various means, to turn and live; inwardly by the strivings of his Spirit, and warnings of conscience; outwardly by his word; his providence, and the voice of those whom he sends "to warn the wicked from their way, and beseech them in Christ's stead to be reconciled to God." The reason of all these applications to sinful man, is that mentioned by St. Peter--"The Lord is long suffering to us ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance." II. We _are to consider some abuses of the revelation of divine goodness which is made to mankind_. There is no gift of God which depravity may not abuse. The belief of the divine perfections, especially of the divine mercy and benignity is often made the occasion of sin. Those whose "hearts are turned away from the Lord, when they hear the words of the curse, are wont to bless themselves in their hearts, saying, we shall have peace, though we walk in the imagination of our hearts, to add drunkenness to thirst." When called to repentance, they banish fear and lull themselves into security, with the revelation of divine grace and mercy which they find in the scriptures; making that a favor of death, which was ordained to be unto life--"With the Lord there is mercy; with him there is plenteous redemption; with him there is forgiveness;" not that he should be feared, but that his fear should be cast off, and his terror not make men afraid to sin--"God hath no pleasure in the death of sinners--judgment is his strange Work--he will not enter into judgment--will not destroy the work of his hands." Thus mercy is made to absorb the other divine attributes, and sinners emboldened in wickedness. By such considerations they make themselves vile without concern. Some become so hardened and unfeeling, that the approach of death doth not alarm them. By an habitual course of wickedness, their consciences are rendered callous, and they are insensible both to fear and shame, and continue so till death puts a period to probation, and seals them up for eternity! These consequences are not apprehended at the entrance on a vicious course. The young sinner designs only to take some youthful liberties, and not to stray very far away, or long to deviate from the path of duty; but the farther he goes in the wrong, the stronger are his attachments to the pleasures of sin--the less his concern--the weaker and more defiant his purposes of amendment. He never finds the more convenient reason, which he promised himself at setting out in the way of wickedness; yea, the farther he proceeds in it, the greater is the difficulty of retracing his steps, and turning back from his wandering. Many who thus turn aside from the path of truth, probably settle into a state of security, and continue in it, till they have time no longer. Was man grateful, divine goodness would lead him to repentance; but under the influence of depravity, it hath a different effect--is made the occasion of more ungodliness! What baseness! "Sin because grace abounds! Whose damnation is just! How can such escape? The wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all unrighteousness and ungodliness of men, who hold the truth in unrighteousness." For sins of ignorance, and those into which men were surprized by unexpected temptations, sacrifices were ordered in the law, and pardon, on certain conditions, promised: But it was not promised presumptuous sinners. To them the law spake nothing but terror. "The soul that doth ought presumptuously--the same reproacheth the Lord; and that soul shall be cut off from his people. Because he hath despised the word of the Lord, and hath broken his commandment, that soul shall be utterly cutoff; his iniquity shall be upon him." * * Numbers xv. 30, 31. The person who lives in all good conscience, may hope in the divine mercy for the pardon of involuntary errors: But with what face can the willful offender ask mercy of God? No plea which is not affrontive can he make before him--"Shall I not visit for these things, saith the Lord: And shall not my soul be avenged on such a nation as this?" That awful threatening, or prophetic denunciation, "The Lord will not spare him; but the anger of the Lord and his jealousy shall smoke against that man, and all the curses written in this book [the law] shall lie upon him," regards willful sinners, flattering themselves with expectation of divine favor. * * Deuteronomy xxix. 20. When St. Paul would magnify the riches of divine grace in the salvation of the chief of sinners, he exemplifies it in himself--"Who before was a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious--Howbeit for this cause I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might shew forth all long suffering, for a pattern to them which should hereafter believe on him to life everlasting." But he subjoins an alarming hint that those who sin wilfully, have no reason to express like mercy from God. "But I obtained mercy _because_ I did it ignorantly in unbelief." That no mercy would have been shewn him had he done those things presumptuously, is here intimated with sufficient plainness. This deserves the attention of those who sin presuming on divine mercy. Surely they cannot reasonably expect mercy from him "who is no respecter of persons," if Paul "obtained it _because he did those things ignorantly in unbelief_." If this is duly considered, Will not presumptuous sinners believe and tremble? Will they not perceive their hopes to be vain? 2. Another abuse of the revelation of divine mercy is the universal scheme which is built upon it. The text and similar passages of scripture are alleged as evidence that none can be lost. To help the argument, it is said--"To be influenced to obedience by fear is low and mercenary; and God would not urge men to duty by so unworthy a principle." But was not fear of punishment used as a guard to innocence while man remained upright? "In the day thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." Had the influence of fear, operating to duty, been wrong, God would not have urged it as a motive to obedience. "Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: For God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man." If God useth this as an argument to excite to duty, it must be a proper argument. That it is thus used in all his word, admits no dispute. Every teacher whom God hath sent to teach the way of life, and persuade men to walk in it, hath used it. The divine teacher is not to be excepted--"Fear him who is able to destroy soul and body in hell, yea, I say unto you, fear him." And when he delineates the process at the great day, after declaring that the righteous and the wicked will be separated from each other, the whole is closed with that solemn declaration--"These shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal." To be influenced by promises is no less mercenary than being driven by terror. And this is also proposed as an incitement to obedience. "God hath given us exceeding great and precious promises, that by them we should become partakers of a divine nature." Every inspired teacher hath called men to repentance in the same manner, and urged it by the same arguments. Proof is needless. To pretend that application is not made, by divine order, to the hopes and fears of mankind, is trifling--Yea to pretend that they are not urged by the dread of eternal punishment, is to deny the most obvious truth. And is there no cause for his fear? Doth God frighten men with vain terrors? Doth he threaten evils which can never come? Or if this argument was necessary to be used with man before be fell, is it needless since he hath fallen? But _God our Savior will have all men to saved_; and shall not that which he wills be effected? Can any thing contrary to his pleasure take place? Much doth take place in this world, which, is not pleasing to God; which he doth not will, or approve. This may be predicated generally of sin. "Sin is the abominable thing which he hates.--He is angry with the wicked every day." Would he be angry, if all which is done was pleasing in his sight? God is holy. Sin is opposition to his nature, forbidden by his law, and declared to be his abhorrence. To suppose that he should hate and forbid sin, yet approve of it and be pleased with it, is absurdity and folly. God permits sin; but neither wills nor approves it. "Christ pleased not himself." * Much is permitted under his administration, which he doth not order, but forbids and abhors. Yea, God orders some things, as moral governor (in consequence of other things done contrary to his directions) which are not pleasing to him, considered in themselves. "He doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men"--But finds it necessary to afflict. Grief and sorrow are known under the divine administration, and ordered out to mortals by providential dispensation. But these natural evils are always in consequence of moral evil, which is not the effect of divine influence, but ariseth from another source and hath another author. It ariseth from the abuse of powers which were given for better purposes. Where sin hath gone before, sorrows follow after; but they are not pleasing to the Supreme Governor. * Rom. xv. 3. The wickedness of the old world occasioned the deluge; but it is impossible to read the Mosaic account of those events, and suspect that they were pleasing to Deity. We may make the same remark respecting the declensions of Israel and Judah and the judgments which followed. "O thou son of man, speak unto the house of Israel, Thus ye speak, saying, if our transgressions and our sins be upon us, and we pine away in them, how should we then live? Say unto them, as I live saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live; turn ye, turn ye, from your evil ways; for why will ye die, 0 house of Israel?" * By another prophet we find God mourning over them --"How shall I give thee up, Ephraim? How shall I deliver thee, Israel? How shall I make thee as Admah, and set thee as Zeboim? Mine heart is turned within me, my repentings are kindled together." * Ezekial xxxiii. 10. That people continued in their sins and perished in them: But will any who read these messages, sent them of God, conceive their crimes, and the desolations which followed, when they had filled up the measure of their iniquity, to be pleasing to God, or the effect of divine order and influence? Will those who read our Savior's lamentations over Jerusalem, and the destruction soon after brought upon that city and nation, because "they did not know the time of their visitation," consider those events as pleasing to him? His predictions were verified--"their enemies cast a trench about them, compassed them round and kept them in on every side--laid their city even with the ground, and her children within her; not leaving one stone upon another--Zion was ploughed like a field"--vast numbers perished in the siege--many were crucified after the city was taken--the residue scattered among all nations, and the sword drawn out after them! The compassionate Redeemer called those sinners to repentance--warned them of the evils which they would bring on themselves, by refusing the grace which he offered them, and wept over them when filling up the measure of their guilt! But when they had been tried the appointed time, and continued obstinate, till the divine patience was exhausted, he entered into judgment with them and gave them according to their works. Similar will be the event of persevering obstinacy in others. Man is placed here for trial--endowed with powers sufficient to render him a probationer; which implies capacity to use, or abuse his powers. The abuse is sin. The way of duty is made known, needed assistance conferred, the reasonableness of obedience shewn, and the injunction, "occupy; till I come," subjoined, but no compulsion is used. Thus circumstanced, it is referred to man to choose for himself. God operates indeed on man; but only as on a free moral agent. Divine influences coincide with human liberty. Those who are willing and obedient find mercy. Over such the Savior rejoices, and their faith and love are rewarded with the rewards of grace. But those who neglect so great salvation, are left to perish in their sins. That God can confidently do other than leave them to perish, is to us unknown. It may be impossible to renew them by repentance--beyond the power of Omnipotence to save them! The conditions of salvation are fixed: No change can be made in them. "The impenitent heart treasureth up wrath. He that believeth not shall be damned. If we do not believe, yet God abideth faithful; he cannot deny himself." The terms of acceptance with God are laid before us; the event depends on the choice we make. SUCH we conceive to be man's situation here: Such the ground of the applications made to him in the gospel, and the promises and threatening annexed to the proposals therein contained. On another, supposition do they appear rational. On no other can we account for our Savior's declaration that Sodom, had she enjoyed Capernaum's advantages, would have remained till his day. * * Matthew xi. 23. Divine benevolence is great; but it will not secure salvation to gospel despisers: They "will wonder and perish." As the first covenant had conditions annexed to it, so hath the new covenant. To pretend that there are none--that man hath no concern to secure the divine favor, is to charge folly on God, in all the overtures which are made to man in the gospel. Life and death are now set before us. We may be saved, or we may perish. Which will be our portion depends on the effect which the proposals of grace have upon us. Today if ye will hear God's voice harden not your hearts. Behold now is the accepted time; behold now is the day of salvation. Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. Beware lest you * destroy a soul for which Christ died; and lest you have occasion at last to take up that lamentation--"The harvest is past, the summer is ended and we are not saved." * Romans xiv. 15. * * * * * * SERMON XVIII. Balak's inquiries relative to the service of God, and Balaam's answer, briefly considered. Micah vi. 6, 7, 8. "Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before the high God? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with, thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my first born for my transgression; the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?--He hath shewed thee, 0 man, what is good: And what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?" As mankind are endowed with reason, and profess to be governed by it, their revolts from God are practical criminations of him: Therefore his expostulations with his people of old, when they forsook him and followed other gods--"What iniquity have your fathers found in me? O my people what have I done unto thee? And wherein have I wearied thee? Testify against me." * * Jeremiah ii. 5. Micah vi. 3. Israel as a people were going away from God, and he condescended to reason with them, and show them their ingratitude and baseness. To this end, he reminded them of his past care of them, and kindness to them, as a nation, from the time of their deliverance from bondage in Egypt--"I brought thee out of the land of Egypt, and redeemed thee from the house of servants"--After just glancing at that deliverance, he passes over the wonders wrought for them at the red sea, and in the wilderness, and their numerous rebellions, while he was leading them as a flock, and supplying their wants by a series of miracles, and enlarges on an event which took place on the borders of Canaan, the attempts made by Balak, the king of Moab, to prevail with him to leave his people and go over to him, and help him against them, and his faithfulness to Israel on that occasion--"O my people, remember now what Balak, king of Moab consulted, and what Balaam, the son of Beor answered him from Shittim to Gilgal; that ye may know the righteousness of the Lord." * * Numbers xxii. &c. Balak's consultations, or inquiries, are contained in the two last verses of our text: Balaam's answer in the third. In Balak's inquiries we see the ideas which he entertained of God, and of the service which he supposed would be acceptable to Him, and engage, him to forsake his people, and deliver him from his fears on their account. Balaam's answer corrects Balak's mistakes, and discovers surprizingly just apprehensions of the true God, and true religion, though depravity prevailed, and caused him to counteract his convictions, by advising Balak to measures directly opposed to his sense of duty. To open and explain this subject is the design of the following discourse. It may be proper to premise that Israel did not make war either on Moab or Ammon. Those nations were descended from Lot, and Moses was forbidden to molest them in possession of the lands which God had given them. Moab might have had peace, and the friendship of Israel, but refused it, and joined the confederacy against them. When the tribes of Israel reached the borders of Moab, which lay in their way to Canaan, Balak and his people were intimidated by their numbers, and by their martial appearance. They did not therefore, sue for peace, but resolved to neglect no measures to subdue and conquer them. It was an ancient custom among the heathen at their entrance on a war, to devote the enemy to destruction, and solicit their gods to forsake them. Balak thought this a matter of importance before he entered into a war with Israel. This ceremony was commonly performed by the priests, or ministers of religion. How this had been to Moab we are not informed; but on occasion before us, the affrighted sovereign of that people, sent to some distance for Balaam, a famous soothsayer or diviner, of whose prevalence with the powers above he had a high opinion, to be the agent in this business. Balaam was really a remarkable person; few more so occur in history. Few others had more knowledge of the true God, or juster ideas of the service which he requires of mankind. But his character will be developed in the sequel. This renowned soothsayer refused at first to listen to the invitation of the king of Moab, assigning a sufficient reason for his refusal --"The Lord refuseth to give me leave"--but when a second embassy arrived, more numerous and move honorable, and with the proffer of great honors and rewards, his ambition and covetousness were inflamed, and he resolved from that moment to secure them. The first seems to have been only a common embassy, and to have carried only the usual rewards of divination. We know what followed. Balaam sinned in asking a second time for liberty to go and curse Israel, when God had once refused him, and told him that they were blessed. He asked, however, and was in judgment permitted to go, but only to act agreeably to divine direction which would be given on the spot; but he went, determined to secure the wages of unrighteousness. Seeing his design, God met him in the way, and by a strange and miraculous communication and warning, made him afraid to curse his people, and even compelled him to bless them altogether. But to come to our subject, I. We are to consider Balak's inquiries.--_Wherewith shall I come before the Lord_? Balak had so deep a sense of the danger which threatened him, that he was ready to bring the most costly sacrifices, if they would avail to render propitious the God who had wrought such wonders in Egypt and in the wilderness for the salvation of his people. He would offer all the cattle, and all the oil of his kingdom, _thousands of ram, and ten thousands of rivers of oil_! Yea, he would even offer his _first born_, the heir of his crown! Would not refute the dearest of his offspring to atone for his sin, and bring over the God of Israel to be his God, in the time of his distress! Such were his proposals. We may observe in them several mistakes respecting the service of God, or the homage which is acceptable to him; mistakes not uncommon among men. As, First a supposition that sins may be atoned and mankind allowed to continue in them, if they will come up to the price. The country of Moab abounded with flocks, particularly with sheep; * it abounded also with oil; and Balak supposed that the divine favor might be obtained by sacrifices of this kind--by a profusion of them--_thousands of ram, and ten thousands of rivers of oil_. He knew himself a sinner--he knew that he had taken part against the God of Israel; had served other gods, who were his rivals. But now he saw his need of the divine favor and he wished to purchase it--at any price, to purchase it. He was ready to pay for his sins; only waited to know the price, and he would make the payment! * 2 Kings iii. 4. Not a word do we hear of his parting with his sins and returning back by repentance. Few left to the light of nature seem to have conceived the necessity of repentance, in order to obtain the divine favor. For their sins, they must somehow, make atonement, and they would then be forgiven, though they continued to commit them! Mankind have entertained different ideas of what was necessary to make atonement. The more common idea hath been, that it was to be done by sacrifice; however they came by that idea. It probably derived by tradition from the first family of our race. But there seems to have been a general mistake respecting the design of sacrifice. By those devoid of revelation, it hath not been considered as pointing to a divine sacrifice, but as having in _itself_ an atoning virtue. So it seems to have been viewed by this Moabitish prince. Another mistake respecting sacrifices, which hath been common in the world, is this--That their value depends on their cost to the offerer. This was a mistake of Balak. If common offerings, and the usual number of victims would not procure the divine favor and atone for his sins, he would offer more, and more costly ones--_thousands of rams, and ten thousands of rivers of oil_! Such a profusion of sacrifices, of the same kind, or partly so, with those offered by Israel, so many more they were able, coming out of the wilderness, to offer, he hoped would prevail to detach from them their God, and buy him so to be his friend! But if not, if these were too little, he would sacrifice his offspring! _Give his first born for his transgression--the fruit of his body for the sin of his soul_! A sacrifice much more costly, much more painful, than that of all earthly treasure! Surely such an offering must prevail! Similar conclusions have not been very uncommon! The homage offered up to God hath been estimated by its cost to the offerer! A circumstance which adds nothing to its value. The value of what is done for God depends on its conformity to his orders. That its cost to the offerer enhances its value, in the divine estimation, supposes him to be pleased with the sufferings of his creatures, and delighted with their sorrows, than which, nothing is farther from truth. "God grieveth not willingly--Judgment is his strange work." Were it otherwise, the more reluctant the offerer, the more acceptable would be the offering: But God loves a cheerful giver; yea, he is so pleased with this disposition, that he accepts and rewards it, where ability is wanting to carry it into action. "If there be first a willing mind, it is accepted." * * 2 Corinthians viii. 12. The sacrifices of old derived all their value from the sacrifice of Christ, to which they pointed. God had determined, when and how they would be offered. Additions to the number, or cost, added nothing to their value, but had a contrary effect, spoiled and rendered them unavailing. Human victims, the most costly, and therefore supposed by the heathen, to be the most efficacious, were so far from having power with God to draw down his blessing, that they most certainly drew his curse on all who offered them. This was one of the sins of the Canaanites, which above all others, availed to bring the divine judgments upon them. And when Israel fell into the same sin, it kindled the wrath of God against them to their destruction. This was the sin of Manasseh, "which God would not pardon." Balak first proposed other sacrifices--a profusion of them; but if they were not sufficient to atone for his sins and procure the friendship of Jehovah, seems to have thought that the sacrifice of his first born must avail! Such were his blunders respecting the nature of that religion which would render him acceptable to the true God. He seems not once to have thought of repentance; or if he did, he made no offer of it--did not once propose "crucifying the flesh with its affections and lusts." He chose rather to sacrifice all the treasures of his kingdom, and all the members of his family, than part with his sins and become holy in heart and life. Such is the temper of depravity. The servants of sin are sooner persuaded to make any other sacrifice than that of their lusts and corruptions. And many foolishly flatter themselves that other sacrifices will avail to procure the divine favor--that holiness of heart and life are not indispensibly requisite, but that something beside may be substituted in its stead. Countless examples of this folly meet us in history, and even in the history only catholic church of Christ! Thus did Balak mistake the nature of true religion, and consider it as consisting in that which was foreign, yea, repugnant to its nature. Such were his proposals which he spread before Balaam, and of which he required his opinion. Let us hear then the answer of the Sage. Balaam was better instructed: He appears to have understood the nature of true religion, and clearly points it out to Balak, though he neglected himself to conform to it. _He hath shewed thee, 0 man, what is good: And what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly, with thy God_? There is scarcely a better definition of true religion to be found in the bible. He _hath shewed thee, 0 man, what is good_.--From Balak's inquiry we should be ready to conclude that he was ignorant of God and religion --that he supposed that God preferred sacrifice to justice and mercy --that sacrifice would supply their place and render them of no account. Balaam tells him that he had been better instructed; though we know not where, or how. _He hath shewed thee, what is good_; and he appeals to Balak whether this was not the case--_What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy_, &c. To _do justly_--There is no true religion where justice is not received as a foundation principle. "I the Lord love judgment; I hate robbery for burnt offerings; and I will direct their work in truth." * Fraudulent people may pretend to religion; may make many and long prayer, but their religion is of no avail; their sacrifices are an abomination. + Witness the scribes and pharisees, who received the greater damnation. * Isaiah l xi. 8. + Isaiah i. 10. &c. The next characteristic trait here given of the good man, is the love of mercy. _What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly and to love mercy_? There is something particularly to be observed in the language here used--_love mercy_.--It may not be in every one's power to shew mercy; but every man may, and every good man does _love mercy_. To "feed the hungry and clothe the naked," are acts of mercy, but not in the power of all men. Some are, themselves wholly dependent on the mercy of others for their own support. Justice often restrains and sets bounds to the exercise of mercy. The judge may be grieved for the malefactor, and wish that he could shew mercy to him, but find himself obliged to condemn him and suffer justice to take its course. The debts which a person hath contracted may require all his goods, or all his necessities do not require. In such cases he is under obligation to shut the hand of charity, even against the proper objects of it. We have no right to defraud some, that we may shew mercy to others. Justice is a prior duty. We are tied up to the discharge of it--are bound to _do justly_; whereas it is only required that we _love mercy_. The love of mercy will dispose us to shew mercy, where we have ability to do it without violating justice. Yea, it will cause us to do it with pleasure, rendering us like God, who "delights in mercy." Acts of mercy may proceed from other principles beside the love of mercy, but these do not answer to the divine requirement. In the view of him who sees the heart they are not characteristic of renovation, or a heart right with God. The third particular here mentioned as constituting the finishing part of the good man's character, is humility--_that he walks humbly with, his God_--that he is sensible of his imperfection, and of his need of mercy from God. This always makes a part of the good man's character. The good man, while he is just to all, and while kind and benevolent, and disposed to do good to all, as he hath opportunity and ability, retains a sense of his defects, of his remaining depravity--that he but too often deviates from his own principles--that in every thing he comes short of his duty. Therefore doth he confess himself "an unprofitable servant"--that he lays God under no obligation--yea, that he lives on mercy--that all the good things which he receives, are unmerited, the gifts of divine grace--that was mercy denied him, and "the reward of his hands given to him, it would be ill with him" --he should be undone forever. Such is the character drawn by the Eastern soothsayer in the last verse of our text: And it is the perfect character of a child of God, in this state of imperfection, trial, and improvement, where he is pressing on towards that perfection which he never attains till he "puts off the body, and is clothed on with his house which is from heaven." Then "the spirits of just men are made perfect," and not till then. "The spirits of just men"--The words are expressive, plainly implying that none who allow themselves in injustice are the children of God --that all the saints will eventually be found, to be "Israelites indeed in whom there is no guile." Thus did Balaam instruct Balak, or remind him of what God required. Balak did not regard him. He could not be persuaded to make such sacrifices as these. He would give all the treasures of his kingdom, and even the fruit of his body, to procure the favor of God; but to sacrifice his corruptions, and put on the temper of a saint!--These were hard requirements--he must be excused! Therefore did he dismiss his instructor, who hitherto had "spoken only the word which God had put into his mouth"--and went away though he went sorrowing! The same is the temper of too many others. We may do much which God requires, may even go beyond and do much which he doth not require, and yet be nothing in religion. There must be the spirit and temper of true religion. There can be no commutation--Nothing will be accepted as a substitute. _We must do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with our God_, or have no part in him. Nothing without it will be accepted; not even "giving the body to be burned." People may also have a good speculative acquaintance with religion and yet remain devoid of it. Such cases sometimes occur. Such an one occurred in him who spake so well in our text. Balaam appears to have had a perfect knowledge of the nature of religion; to have understood what it was and wherein it consisted. He was sensible also of the importance of being found at last to have lived under the influence of it. Therefore when looking forward to the period of his dissolution did he utter that earnest wish or prayer--"Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his." Yet he was not a good man! his knowledge resided in his head: It never reached his heart. "He loved the wages of unrighteousness;" lived and died under the government of depravity and wickedness! He dared not indeed to go in direct opposition to the letter of the divine command--dared not curse Israel with his lips, though he longed to do it, and wished the curse to fall upon them, while he was blessing them and forefilling their future greatness. But he dared privately to advise Balak "to cast a stumbling block before them"--To send among them the women of Moab, and seduce them to uncleanness and idolatry, in order to bring the curse of heaven upon them! His advice was followed and partly succeeded! Not to procure a victory for Moab, but to bring the judgments of God upon Israel; twenty four thousands of whom fell by the pestilence which was sent to punish "their sin the matter of Peor." And more tragical events would probably have followed, had not Phinebas stood up and executed vengeance on some of the principal offenders, and thus turned away the anger of the Lord from his offending people.* * Numbers xv. and xxi. 16. * * * * * Who can contemplate these things without astonishment! Who consider the character and conduct of Balaam and not be amazed! That a man so instructed respecting the divine character, the nature of religion, and the consequences which will follow human conduct here, should dare to set himself deliberately to evade the divine law, as wicked and artful men do human laws, surprises and confounds us! Yet so it certainly was in the case before us! We are not left ignorant of the consequences: To him the "end of those things was death," eternal death, for he died in rebellion against God. And he seems to have anticipated the event; when speaking of the divine being, the true God and Redeemer, he breaks out into that language--"I shall see him, but not now; I shall behold him, but not nigh." We can form no judgment of a person's moral state by his speculative knowledge of God and religion. Knowledge in divine things is important; on many accounts it is so; but it does not ensure goodness of heart, without which we cannot be saved; we may have "all knowledge," yet perish in our sins. So it happened to Balaam, and probably to others beside him. "If ye know these things happy are ye, _if ye do them_." But we are chiefly concerned at home--to know our own state. _Do we do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God_? If these are found upon us, happy are we; but if any of them are habitually wanting to us, we "are yet in our sins, and the wrath of God abideth on us." If any are disposed to inquire with Balak, _Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before the high God_? Let them attend to the answer given by Balaam--if we add, reliance on divine grace in Christ no better answer can be given. How far those of old were let into the gospel way of salvation we know not. Balaam expressed the temper of a child of God. Whoever possessed that temper relied on divine mercy, while endeavoring to fulfil all righteousness. Such would refer themselves to divine grace; and surely God would not be wanting to them. He might lead them by a way which they understood not; "but would bring them to their desired haven, and unto God their exceeding joy. Their labor would not be in vain in the Lord." Dependence on divine mercy is still our duty. Though favored with gospel light, many things are yet hidden from us. Let us therefore do justly love mercy, and walk humbly with God, and he will guide us through the darkness, and bring us through to the rest which he hath prepared for those who love and serve, and trust him here. For these there is no commutation. Knowledge the most perfect; faith the most miraculous; and sacrifices the most costly, would all be of no avail. God hath shewn us what is good, and what he requires. May we hear and obey. Amen. * * * * * * SERMON XIX. Confessing Christ an indispensable Duty. 2 Timothy ii, 12. "--If we deny him, he also will deny us." This is predicated of Christ; and looks forward to the day when all mankind will stand before him as their judge. Denying Christ is here declared to be a mortal sin. Those found guilty of it will hear that sentence--"Depart ye cursed!" But this is to be understood only of a persevering denial of him. Those who turn by a timely repentance, will find mercy. This is true of every sin. But repentance may be too late. It must antecede death, or it will be of no avail. The day of grace terminates with life. From that period man ceases to be a probationer, and his state is unalterably fixed. When the offers of pardon and peace are sent abroad, some will not hear. Who will receive, and who reject the grace of life, is to us unknown. Our expectations are often disappointed. Some come to Christ of whom we had little hope; others cannot be persuaded, of whom our hopes were strong. We have only to "preach Christ; warning every man, and teaching every man," and must leave the event. Some live where the sound of gospel grace is not heard. "We" are made to differ from them. "To us is the word of this salvation sent." But this doth not secure salvation to us. We must hear and obey. "If we neglect so great salvation, we shall not escape." Among the indispensable requirements of the gospel, is that of confessing Christ, Himself hath determined it. "Whosoever shall confess me before men, him will I confess before my Father which is in heaven; but whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I deny before my Father which is in heaven." * * Matthew x. 32. Whether the apostle had this declaration of our Savior's in his eye; or it was revealed to him by the holy Spirit, we are not informed; but his language in the text is express to the same purpose--_If we deny him, he also will deny us_. These declarations have a particular reference to the duty of appearing openly to be Christ's disciples; especially in times of persecution, when Christian's are exposed to sufferings and death for his sake. Even in such times, confessing Christ is a condition of being confessed by him. If we think this a hard requirement, and refuse compliance, we shall have no part in him. What are we then to understand _by confessing and denying Christ_. Considering one of these may suffice. The text regards the latter. To this we will therefore turn our attention. Christ _may be denied in words; or in works; or by a perversion of the gospel, causing it to become another gospel_. We will treat of each briefly. I. Christ may be denied in words. As "with the mouth confession is made to salvation," so with the mouth we may "deny the Lord who bought us." This is done by those who deny that Jesus is the Christ; Thus he was denied by the Jews, among whom he was born, and passed the days of his earthly residence. That people had many peculiar advantages for knowing Christ, and many special evidences of his truth. "To them were committed the oracles of God." They had the prophets who testified of Christ. To them did he appeal, and by them call on the Jews to try his claims to the Messiasship--"Search the scriptures; they are they which testify of me." That people also witnessed his miracles, "which were such as no man could do except God were with him." They witnessed the wonders which attended his birth--those which attended, and followed his death--many of that nation, who had seen his crucifixion, and the soldier's spear pierce his heart while he hung on the cross, saw him alive after his passion; and a sufficient number, mostly, if not wholly Jews, witnessed his ascension. Yet as a people they rejected him, and continued in unbelief! Not only denied him before Pilate, but notwithstanding the teaching and miracles of the apostles, persevered in their denial of him, and perished in it! This was foretold. Christ warned them of the event of their infidelity--"If ye believe not that I am he, ye shall perish in your sins." But they would not hear. By the Gentiles the gospel was more kindly received. Though devoid of that knowledge of God and true religion which might have prepared them for the reception of it, when they witnessed the mighty works, wrought by those who preached it, they believed. Miracles are appeals to the senses of mankind. And when those who had worshipped dumb idols, beheld the wonders wrought by the ministers of Christ, they perceived that they were sent of God, and became obedient to the faith. Then did "many come from the east and west, and set down in the kingdom of God; while the children of the kingdom were call out." Christianity spread abroad. "The heathen were given to the Son for an inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for a possession." For several ages, most who were educated in Christian lands, and blessed with revelation, professed to believe the gospel. But in later ages there hath been a falling away, agreeably to the predictions which went before, and many deny the truth of the gospel, and reject it as fabulous. II. Christ may be denied in works. He is so by some who in words confess him. Those who enroll themselves among Christ's disciples, thereby engage to be his followers. This is enjoined and made a term of acceptance. "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me--whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple." To follow Christ is to cultivate his temper, and tread in his steps. "Christ was meek and lowly in heart." He did God's commandments. It was "his meat to do the will of him that sent him." Those who are his disciples have learnt of him. The same mind is in them, which is in him. When this divine temper is wrought into the soul, it appears in the life. Those who have his spirit, walk as he walked. Some call themselves Christians, who do not follow Christ. But he doth not acknowledge them to be his. He ranks them among those who deny him, "Why call ye me Lord, Lord, and done: the things which I say? Then are ye my friends, when ye do all things, whatsoever I have commanded you." Christ's name is blasphemed, when those who call themselves after him live in allowed wickedness. Sore are the wounds which he hath received in the house of his friends. No other have been so deep and deadly. But those who while they call themselves Christ's friends, live like the wicked world, discover their hypocrisy--that they are not of Christ's flock--"His flock hear his voice and follow him." Others may creep in unawares, but they are not of his fold. The apostle speaks of these false professors in his epistle to Titus. * "They profess that they know God, but in works they deny him, being abominable and disobedient, and unto every good works reprobate." + * Titus i. 16. + Titus i. 16. Others deny Christ by refusing to confess him: "For the refusal is in works to deny him." Under the former dispensation certain duties were enjoined as tokens of subjection to the divine Sovereign. To neglect them, was considered as breaking the covenant of God. "And God said to Abram, thou shalt keep my covenant, thou and thy seed after thee. This is my covenant which ye shall keep between me and you, and thy seed after thee: Every man child among you shall be circumcised. The uncircumcised man child shall be cut off from his people; he hath broken my covenant." ++ An attendance on the passover was enjoined under the same penalty. The person who should neglect it, was ordered to be cut off from Israel. Every rite and ceremony enjoined in the law was obligatory. To neglect them was to set up the standard of rebellion against God--deny his sovereignty--his right to give law. Those who persevered in neglect, after warnings, were no more to be considered as his people. ++ Genesis xvii. 9-14. Under the gospel dispensation, duties of like import are enjoined, and under the same penalty. The tokens of belonging to Christ are commanded. To neglect them is to reject the Savior, and forfeit the benefits of an interest in him. Among these an open profession of faith in Christ, is one of the chief. So it was considered by the apostles, and primitive Christians. They dared not neglect it when it cost every worldly comfort, and even life. Neither was it a groundless fear which excited them to so costly a duty. Their Lord, had expressly declared, that "whoever should be ashamed of him, before an evil and adulterous generation, he would be ashamed of them before his Father, and before his angels." If we attend to our context we shall see that the apostle has here a special reference to denying Christ in this way--"Remember that Jesus Christ, of the seed of David, was raised from the dead, according to my gospel: Wherein I suffer trouble as an evil doer, even unto bonds; but the word of God is not bound. Therefore I endure all things for the elect's sake, that they may obtain salvation, which is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory. It is a faithful saying, for if we be dead with him, we shall also live with him: If we differ, we shall also reign with him: _If we deny him, he also will deny us_: If we believe not; yet he abideth faithful; he cannot deny himself." The apostle persevered though he suffered the loss of all things, and incurred every indignity and sorrow; and even when he foresaw the loss of life, in consequence of adhering to the Christian cause and continuing to preach the gospel. When some who were concerned for him, would have dissuaded him from adventuring among the enemies of Christianity, especially as his dangers and sufferings among them, were foretold by a prophet, he refused their counsel and adhered to his purpose, though tenderly affected with their concern for him. "What mean ye to weep and to break mine heart? For I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus," and when his last conflict approached, apprized of what was before him, he advanced without dismay--"I am now ready to be offered and the time of my departure is at hand." St. Paul might have avoided all the evils which he endured because he belonged to Christ, by only practically denying him: But he dared not deny him. He knew the consequences which would follow the part he acted. "If we suffer we shall also reign with him; _if we deny him, he also will deny us_. Having respect to the recompence of reward," he pressed on, exulting in the prospect before him--"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord the righteous Judge, shall give me in that day." If to neglect professing Christ, when it exposed to such sufferings was considered as denying him, and incurred the forfeiture of an interest in him, will it now be dispensed with? No, when it exposeth to no suffering, or loss? When it both became the most cheap and easy of all duties? Are the terms of acceptance with God in Christ changed? Are they not the same as formerly? Doubtless they are essentially the same. "There is no respect of persons with God." If to neglect the badges of discipleship was formerly to deny Christ, it is still to deny him. _If we deny him, he also will deny us_. III. Christ may be denied by a perversion of the gospel, causing it to become another gospel. Some of this description were found in the primitive church. Such were those who made Christ the minister of sin--who considered the design of his coming, not to be "to destroy the works of the devil," but to render it safe to live in sin and indulge depravity. Such were those who held the doctrine of the Nicolaitanes; and the doctrine of Balaam, which were probably nearly akin, giving countenance to uncleanliness. Such were also those pretendedly enlightened persons, who claimed knowledge in divine things, superior to that of the apostles, and taught that chastity, and temperance, and sundry other duties enjoined of God, were not obligatory on believers. These are described by St. Peter and Jude, as enemies of Christ. In later ages the gospel hath not been less corrupted, by some, who have called themselves Christians. It hath become in their hands, another gospel. It maybe difficult precisely to determine, all who in this way deny Christ: But when the manifest tendency of any scheme, called Christian, is to lead to sin, render secure in sin, or build the hope of salvation on any other foundation than the mercy of God, and merits of the Redeemer, it must lead to a practical denial of Christ. To the sacred standard should every system be referred. Those which deviate essentially there from, lead to a denial of Christ; and will produce a denial by him before his Father in heaven. REFLECTIONS. If we do not mistake the Scriptures, those who deny Christ are without hope; and those who reject and those who neglect the gospel, or refuse to confess the Savior, are to be reckoned among them. Some are otherwise minded. "If a person only acts sincerely, no matter what his religious principles, (say some) or whether he hath religious principles; he will find mercy with God and be accepted of him;" an opinion which is spreading in this liberal age! We would gladly adopt it, and receive to the arms of charity all who appear to act honestly, could we see reason for it. But, in our apprehension, the word of truth condemns those who deny Christ, and declares that they will be denied by him before his heavenly Father. We read of damnable heresies--of those who are given up to strong delusions that they should believe a lie that they might be damned. --And find an express declaration, cutting off unbelievers from all hope.--"He that believeth not shall be damned." Whatever God may do with those who have not the gospel, those to whom it is sent must believe, receive and obey it, or perish in their sins. This is so plainly and expressly declared in the word of truth, that we wonder doubts should arise in the minds of those who believe it. Nor is it less strange, that confessing Christ should be thought a matter of indifference. Scripture is equally express respecting this matter, as the other. We have seen that under the former dispensation, God's covenant and the tokens of it were commanded, under penalty of excision from his people--That in the apostolic age, Christ was to be confessed, under penalty of being denied by him in the presence of God. These are not matters of doubt. They are stoney ground hearers who "are offended when persecution ariseth because of the word." These bring no fruit to perfection. If the terms of acceptance with Christ are the same now as formerly: If they are not lowered down from their original, a denial of him, either verbal or practical, will shut men out of his kingdom. It becomes those who have a hope toward God while such their state, to consider these things. "It is a faithful saying--If we suffer with him, we shall also reign with him; _If we deny him, he also will deny us_." * * * * * * SERMON XX. The Fear which terminates in the Second Death. Revelation xxi. 8. "The fearful--shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone; which is the second death." The terms on which only we can be Christ's disciples are laid before us in the Scriptures, and we are counselled to consider them before we engage to be his. Though Christ was born to be a king, his kingdom is not of this world. He doth not persuade men with the prospect of great things here; but on the contrary warns his followers, that "in this world they shall have tribulation;" pointing them to another, as the place of their rest, and teaching them there to expect the reward of their labors and suffering here. And here the saints in every age, have groaned, being burdened. Had God provided nothing better for them, he would be ashamed to be called their God. The primitive Christians drank largely of the bitter cup. All the apostles, except John, are said to have sealed their testimony with their blood. John at an advanced age, died peaceably in his bed at Ephesus. But he did not escape persecution here. When the revelation was made to him, he was in exile for the word of God and for the testimony of Jesus. For his consolation, and for the edification of the church, he was visited in his lonely state, by the exalted Redeemer, who unveiled futurity before him, briefly sketching the changes which were to pass over his people till the consummation of all things. The vision closed with the solemn, dreadful process of the great day, and its consequences to the righteous and to the wicked. The divine visitant enlarged on the glories of the heavenly state beyond any of the prophets who had gone before. The description is clothed in figurative language, affording only a partial view of "the glory which is to be revealed;" sufficient however to convince us, that "eye hath not seen, ear heard, or the heart of man conceived the things which God hath prepared for those who love him." But who will be made to possess these glorious things? They are offered to all who hear the sound of the gospel; but conquering believers will only attain them. Their contrast will be the portion of others. This life is a warfare, in which we are called to contend with our own corruptions and with the powers of darkness--"He that overcometh shall inherit all things:" But those who are overcome, _will have their part in the lake of fire--which is the second death_. To understand the grounds of this context is highly important. Mistakes here may be fatal. To assist the inquirer, the characters of conquerors and captives are drawn in the scriptures. The verse of which the text is a part, mentions several general characters of the latter kind, and determines their future portion--_The fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone; which is the second death_. In the prosecution of our subject, only one of these general characters will be considered--_the fearful_. Who then are intended by _the fearful_? And what is the fear which leads to destruction? Fearful, is a term seldom used to describe sinners. It occurs, we believe, in no other scripture. Every kind of fear is not sinful; much less inconsistent with a state of grace. "The fear of Lord is the beginning of wisdom"--it disposes the subject of it to mind the things which belong to peace, and flee to the hope set before him in gospel. The fear of God is often used to describe the good man, and given as a leading trait in his character. It is noted in favor of Obadiah, the servant of Ahab, that he "feared the Lord greatly." To have no fear of God before one's eyes, is expressive of great obduracy in sin; of the last grade of depravity. Yet in the text, the fearful, are mentioned as the first rank of those who will have their part in the burning lake! What then is this fear? It may be of several kinds; particularly--that to which precludes trust in God, and reliance on his grace in Christ--that which operates to explain away the law of God--that which puts men upon duty in order to atone for sin--and that which shrinks from the hardships of religion. I. The fear which leads down to the lake of fire, may be that which precludes trust in God and reliance on his grace in Christ. Faith in Christ, and reliance on divine grace in him, are conditions of salvation. Where these are wanting Christ will not profit. Faith and reliance are united. The latter is dependant on the former, and riseth out of it. "He that cometh to God, must believe that he is, and that he is the rewarder of them that diligently seek him." The fearful and unbelieving are here set together--the fearful and unbelieving shall have their part--Perhaps they are thus joined to intimate that the fear intended precludes the faith to which the promises are made. The sinner who is the subject of this fear hath so deep a sense of the sinfulness of sin, especially of his own, that he is afraid to make God his hope--afraid to look up to the throne of grace, or to ask mercy of God. He would gladly flee the divine presence, like the first guilty pair, when they heard the voice of God walking in the garden after their fall. When fear hath this effect, it drives the sinner from the mercy which alone can save him. "Christ came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. He came to seek and save that which was lost." To sinners, mercy is offered in him. Were we without sin, we should have no need of mercy. If we flee from Christ because we are sinners, we flee the mercy which alone can save us, and put offered salvation from us; for it is offered us only in him. To drive sinners away from the Savior by fear, when he can hold them no longer secure in sin, is an old device of the deceiver, which hath probably often succeeded. On secure and awakened sinners, different delusive arts are practised. The former are persuaded that sin is a trivial evil, far from meriting eternal punishment; that God is not greatly offended at it; that it is easy to obtain forgiveness; that as we are required to forgive every offender who saith, I repent, God will do the same; that it is only to ask mercy, when we can sin no longer, and it will be immediately granted; so that there is very little danger in sin. But those who are awakened--who see the evil of sin, and tremble for fear of God's judgments, are tempted to believe that divine justice will only be exercised, especially to them--that their sins are unpardonable; their day of grace ended, and that they have nothing before them but "a certain fearful looking for of judgment." In such suggestion, the design of the tempter is to drive sinners to despair, and thus drive them away from Christ. If he avails to effect it, his end is gained; for there is salvation in no other. It is emphatically true of the despairing sinner, that he "cannot go to Christ for life." All who go to him, believe him able and willing to save. Devoid of this faith none can go to him. Therefore doth the fear which precludes faith lead down to ruin. II. Fear _which operates to explain away the law of God, hath the same effect_. This is sometimes the effect of fear. Those who believe that there is a God, and that the holy scriptures are his word, cannot feel secure while they consider themselves condemned by his law, and view themselves as the objects of his wrath. Therefore do the slaves of depravity endeavor to explain away God's law--therefore to persuade themselves that certain duties are not required--that certain self denials are not enjoined; or that there is something in their particular case which exempts them from _this or that_, which is required of others. The cunning which some discover in finding out excuses and evasions, by which to cheat themselves and silence their consciences, is affecting. It shews them to be the slaves of Satan, and servants of corruption, and that they love their masters, and refuse to go out free, when liberty is offered. When people of this description pretend to inquire what is their duty, their real design is to evade the obligations of it. And they often succeed to persuade themselves that they are free from the obligations of it. But few others are deceived. The veil of the covering spread over their designs and views, is opaque only to themselves; to others it is transparent, and leaves them without excuse. Frequent instances of this unfairness are visible in the world. When people make themselves easy and secure, without faith which works by love and purifies the heart--without repentance which mourns for sin as dishonorable to God, and in itself an evil thing, and a bitter, and without devotedness to the service of God, as well as a reliance on his grace in Christ, no matter what they substitute in the place of these graces, all is of no avail; hope is built on the sand. That many of these vain substitutes are to be found among men, Who is insensible? When fear hath this effect, it leads down to the fiery lake. III. Sometimes _fear puts men upon duty in order to atone for sin and merit the divine favor_. Afraid of God's judgments, they set themselves to do commanded duties, and place their dependence on these doings of their own. Duties done by men have nothing meritorious in them. The design of many things which God hath enjoined is to serve as a schoolmaster to bring men to Christ. None are intended to save by any virtue in them. By nothing which man can do is God made his debtor. Neither doth ought done by man recommend to the divine favor if perverted and made the ground of hope toward God. The sinner's best recommendation to the divine favor is a sense of his own demerit, which leads him humble and self abased to cast himself on grace in a mediator. His most prevalent prayer is that made by the publican--"God be merciful to me a sinner." Sinners are invited to the Savior, and encouraged to hope in him--"Look unto me and be ye saved all the ends of the earth. It is a faithful saying, that Christ came into the world to save sinners." But he saves only those who receive and trust in him. If we go about to establish our own righteousness, relying on our own doings as the ground of our acceptance with God, he will give to us according to our works --"Behold all ye that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks; walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled: This shall ye have from mine hand, ye shall lie down in sorrow." * *Isaiah l. 11. Not that sinners are to neglect the means of grace, or indulge in sin. When God promised his church to give them a new heart, and cause them to walk in his statutes, he declared that those blessings should be given in answer to prayer--"Yet for this will I be inquired of by the house of Israel to do it for them." And when the apostle teaches how to seek renewing grace, he directs to "lay apart all filthiness and superfluity of naughtiness and receive with meekness, the ingrafted word." Saving grace is perhaps, never given till it is asked of God. Sinners are made to see their need of this divine gift and led to cry to God for it. It is then when they ask that they receive. That they shall not ask in vain, is intimated with sufficient clearness in the word of truth. "Whosoever shalt call on the name of the Lord, shall be saved. If thou knewest the gift of God--_thou wouldest have asked of him_, and he would have given thee living water." Yet the sinner merits nothing by any doings of his. The true penitent is sensible of it. He relies on grace alone; and asks mercy of God for the sake of him "who died for his offences, and rose again for his justification." He seeks in the use of appointed means because it is the way of duty, and the way in which God is wont "to have mercy, on whom he will have mercy;" who are commonly chosen from among those who seek his face. As fear puts some on duty, it excites others to that which is not duty--puts them on doing things which are not required. Such are the pilgrimages and penances of the Romanists; and such the severities which some others have practised on themselves with a view to atone for sin and render Deity propitious. These have no tendency to conciliate heaven. A curse is more likely to follow them than a blessing; yet in this way some have thought to atone for sin and make peace with an offended God!* * Vide Sermon on Colossians ii. 8. IV. There is yet one other kind of fear which leads to destruction --that _which causes men to shrink from the hardships of religion_; and decline the difficulties which lie in the way of duty. Difficulties and temptations were not peculiar to the first ages of Christianity. St. Paul, after mentioning his own, declares them, in a measure, common to all Christ's followers--"Yea, and all who will live godly in Christ Jesus, shall suffer persecution." The trials and difficulties of the righteous are divers, but none escape them. Many arise from indwelling corruption--many from an insnaring world--many from Satan's malice and devices. In fallen man there is a bias to error and wickedness. Not to suffer his own lusts to draw him away, and entice him to sin, requires great self denial. From a wicked world temptations also arise and difficulties spring up. In this land, the enemies of religion, have not power to kill and destroy the faithful; but they have power to pour contempt upon them. Cruel mockings may severely try those who fear neither the gibbet, nor the stake. These do try the people of God at this day. Neither do the powers of darkness cease to trouble and afflict--to assault the faithful with their temptations, and to lay snares to entangle them. "Your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." Satan's devices are without number--his attacks are made from every quarter; and he is often so hidden that it is difficult to discover him. Sometimes he assumes the mark of religion --is "transformed into an angel of light," the more effectually to cover his dark designs. Such is his enmity that he is indefatigable in his endeavors to seduce and to destroy--such his craft and experience, that he is wise to accomplish his nefarious designs: And against the saints his rage is the greater, because he knoweth that his time is short. Here the people of God live in a state of warfare--conflict with many enemies and suffer many sorrows. Often they are called to suffer for Christ--because they are numbered among his followers and wear his livery. If any of these things move us, if we are afraid to encounter these hardships, are discouraged in our Christian course and induced to turn back from after Christ, our fear will destroy us--it will cause us _to have our part in the lake of fire--which is the second death_. This hath happened to some who have assumed the Christian name, and for a time appeared among Christ's disciples! They have forsaken him. There is an hour of temptation, which trieth those who dwell on the earth; many fail in the trying hour. Attacked by enemies and assaulted by temptations, they yield themselves captives to their spiritual enemies. This happens to some who had "heard the word and received it with joy--in the time of temptation, they are offended and fall away." Wanting courage to stand on the Lord's side, when it exposes them to reproach and sufferings, they suffer themselves to be overcome of evil, and fall from their stedfastness. These are Christians only in name. The real Christian possesseth a noble courage which raiseth him superior to every trial, and enableth him to subdue every enemy. The storms of temptation beat upon him; but he stands firm--resists the powers of darkness and his own corruptions--is moved neither by the frowns, nor flatteries of the world. Like an eminent saint of old, he "hath respect to the recompence of reward," keeps heaven in his eye, and presseth on in his way thither. "Through Christ strengthening him, he doth all things and abounds--holds out to the end and is made more than a conqueror." To such "pertain the promises--they overcome--will inherit all things. God will be their God, and they will be his children." But those who cannot, "endure hardness as good soldiers"--who faint, and fail in the day of trial, suffering the enemy to prevail, and themselves to be overcome, "will lose that which they have wrought-- others will take their crowns, _and they will have their part in the lake of fire and brimstone: Which is the second death_." Thus we have seen who are intended by the fearful, and their sad state. Influenced by fear which drives them from the Savior; or leads them to explain away God's law; or drive them to duty in order to atone for sin; or too timid to take up the cross and follow Christ, they have no part in him. They are afraid of misery; and their fear indulged, will bring misery upon them far beyond their fear! For "who knows the power of God's anger." Before us the door of mercy is yet open. We are invited to Christ for life. God hath no pleasure in the death of sinners. He is ready to receive the returning prodigal. His arm is not shortened that it cannot save. He offers pardon and peace to the chief of sinners. The deeper sense we have of sin, the more we abhor ourselves for sin, the more welcome to his grace. Weary and heavy laden sinners are particularly invited to the Savior. He will not send them empty away. As the returning prodigal was received by his father, so is every repenting sinner, by his Father in heaven. When the prodigal resolved to return with, a "Father I have sinned--the father saw him a great way off," and all his bowels yearned over him--"he had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck, and killed him"--bid him a hearty welcome--lavished the richest favors on him, and called all to rejoice at his return. In like manner our heavenly Father receives the returning penitent. This is the spirit of the parable. Fear not then, ye who mourn in Zion. Come empty and naked as ye are, and fall down before an offended God, with, "Father I have sinned. --God be merciful to me a sinner." Come thus to God, and cast yourselves on his grace in Christ, and his grace will be sufficient for you. We are warranted to promise you a kind reception. Let none think to hide their sins by excuses or palliations. They are all open to the divine eye. "There is no darkness, nor shadow of death where the workers of iniquity may hide themselves." Neither let any think to atone for their sins by doings of their own. The blood of Christ is the only atonement. Our best services are polluted with sin. Let us endeavor to see our sins as they are, renounce them all, and repair to the mercy of God in Christ. There is a fulness of merit in Christ, and a fulness of mercy in God. There we may trust and not be ashamed. Let none be discouraged by the difficulties which lie in their way, or faint under the hardships of the cross. If God calls us to trials he will support us under them--yea, if we make him our hope, and are not needlessly wanting to ourselves, he will make us more than conquerors; he will make us triumphers in Christ. But if we fear to enter the lists against our spiritual enemies or to endure ought to which we are called in the way of duty, whether it be contempt, sufferings, or loss, we shall bring greater sorrows on ourselves by shrinking back in the day of trial, than by pressing forward, and bearing all which duty requires. Our sorrows, if we abide faithful, and are not moved away from the hope of the gospel, will be only temporary; and under the pressure of them, we shall be supported by Omnipotence; but if we draw back, and refuse to deny ourselves, fainting in the day of trial, our sorrows and sufferings will be eternal, and as such as Omnipotence can only inflict! * * * * * * SERMON XXI. The Ends of Family Institution, with observations on the Importance of Education. Malachi ii. 15. "And did not he make one? Ye had he the residue of the Spirit. And wherefore one? That he might seek a godly seed.--" Toward the close of the Babylonish captivity, religion revived among the Jews. Several zealous and able reformers were raised up and advanced to power, whose influence was blessed to call back that people from their declensions, and prepare them for mercy. But the effect of their labors was only temporary. When they were gone off the stage, the people again apostatized, neglected the worship and ordinances of God, and became vicious and corrupt. This prophet, who lived several ages after their return to Canaan, was sent to reprove their irreligion and the immoralities, which abounded among them and had infected every order of men. One of the sins then rife in Israel, was a family sin. Family contentions, which frequently terminated in divorces, were become common. Divorces were permitted to the Hebrews, "for the hardness of their hearts, but it was not so from the beginning." Larger communities are all made up of families. Evils therefore which affect the latter, cannot but affect the former. Were all the families which compose an empire divided and unhappy, the empire would be so. It is also worthy of notice, that the first rudiments of character, which render good or bad, and cause people to be blessings or curses in society, are commonly begun in those nurseries of our race. The bias there given, seldom wholly wears off; it is generally carried, in degree, through life. Probably many of the evils which afflicted the Jews in the days of this prophet, had their origin in the cradles of the nation. He was therefore directed to strike at the root of evils, and by endeavoring to reform the smaller societies of which the larger were composed, to reform the whole. With this view he led back the minds of those among whom he ministered, to the origin of families, and declared the merciful design of the Most High, in their institution--_That he might seek a godly see._ Seeking a godly seed is not the only design. It is however a principal design, and will be chiefly regarded in the following discourse. One thing designed is the comfort and advantage of the several members of these little communities. But to the attainment of these ends, they must keep respectively, in their places, and act faithfully in them. The heads must live together in harmony, and unite in ordering the common affairs of the society; and the inferior members must submit to their authority, and do the duties of their stations. Human happiness greatly depends on the temper and conduct of those who are connected in the nearest relations, and live together. Suppose trouble abroad, yet if one hath peace and friendship in his family, and finds order and affection at home, he will not be very unhappy. He will often "retire to his secret chambers, and shut the doors about him, till the evils are past." But the house divided against itself, is a scene of confusion and trouble. Contentions there are like a continual dropping. The man who hath affluence and honor; who is respected or envied abroad, is but a wretch, if his retirements are unquiet; if his family connexions are peevish and disagreeable, and the inferior members rise in rebellion and refuse obedience to his reasonable requirements, or neglect the duties of their stations. Fidelity and affection in the nearest relations, yields the greatest temporal felicity; the want of them occasions the most pungent grief which is experienced in life; that which arises from sense of guilt excepted. The part acted by every member of a family, effects the whole. None can rejoice or mourn alone. All participate in the joy or grief. All are affected by the discharge, or neglect of relative duties: Joy and sorrow keep pace with them. Neither are the evils which arise from these abuses to be avoided by celibacy, without incurring others of a serious nature. Man is formed for society. An help meet was necessary even in Eden. To have remained alone would have rendered an earthly paradise a tiresome place. Therefore was a suitable companion given of God, to crown the joys of innocence. The comfort and advantage of the members is manifestly one design of family institution; but where the duties of the several relations are neglected, or counteracted, the ends are frustrated, and the blessing changed into a curse. "It is better to dwell in the wilderness than with a contentious and angry woman." And the woman, who instead of a kind and virtuous companion, is joined to a tyrant, or a man of Belial, must have sorrow upon, sorrow, till death comes to her relief. But the design of family institution expressed in the last clause of the text--_That he might find a godly seed, will be chiefly attended to_. We are here taught that God made one, and only one to be man's companion and helper--_that he might seek a godly feed_. One is necessary for this purpose; more would rather hinder than help. With one there is a joint interest; more would cause divisions. To answer the ends proposed, the connexion must be for life. It must not be left to the parties or either of them, to dissolve it at pleasure, as the Jews of that age contended. This liberty the prophet shews to be contrary to the spirit and design of marriage. He observes that though God _had the residue of the Spirit_--all power, and could easily have made many, he made only one, to be the companion and helper of man--that this indicated the design of marriage to be an indissoluble connexion, which was ordained to continue till death. This which is intimated in the text, is confirmed by our Savior in his reply to the Pharisees who questioned him on this subject. * * Matthew xix. 3-10. In farther discussing our subject, _after a few desultory observations on the importance of education, especially parental education, we shall inquire in what ways, and by what means parents are required to fed a godly seed_. Much culture is necessary to man's attaining his proper rank in creation. This should begin at an early period, and naturally devolves on parents, who, by providential appointment, are guardians of the infancy and childhood of their offspring. Brutes need no instruction in order to fill the places designed for them of the Creator. Neither do they need example. Instinct supplies their places--teacheth all which they need to know; and teacheth perfectly. The several kinds of beasts and birds, shut out from their dams, and secluded from their own species, act according to their natures in the same manner, as though brought up with them--discover the same disposition--use the same methods of seeking their food, and providing for themselves and their young--and express themselves in the same language, or by the same notes. Nature left to herself, respecting every thing which belongs to them, is a sufficient, yea an infallible instructor. Some of the brutes may be taught to mimick man; others to know and serve him; but these are foreign to their rank. Everything, properly belonging to them, is taught by nature, independent of man. Had man never existed, some of them might have lived and filled their places in creation without him. But man, the head of this lower world, requires particular attention. His mind requires more than his body. Should man come forward to act his part here, with only the same kind of attention which nature teacheth the brute to bestow on her young, what would he be? How would he appear? Suppose some savage horde to attend only to the bodies of their offspring, during infancy and childhood, and then send them abroad to follow nature!--Uncultivated nature! Living at large like the brutal inhabitants of the forest! Can we form an idea of ought more shocking? Surely such a people would be more brutal than the brutes! To prevent these dreadfuls, and render man the noble creature for which he is designed, happy in himself, an honor to his Creator, and a blessing among God's works, are the ends proposed in education. These usually originate in that culture which is begun by parents. The foundation of honor or infamy, usefulness or mischief, happiness or misery, is commonly laid in the morning of life. The impressions then made, are deep and lasting; the bias then given to the mind, goes far to form the character of the man. We see therefore the goodness of God in an institution which hath such important objects in view--which is designed to plant in infant minds the seeds of virtue, and form mankind for usefulness and honor.--_And wherefore one? That he might seek a godly seed_. This work would have been incumbent on man had he retained his first estate. It would then have belonged to parents to cultivate the tender mind and direct it in right ways. Marriage was instituted before the apostasy, of which a principal design is that mentioned in the text: For the prophet speaks of man in his original state. In innocence man had his work assigned him--was made for action. Idleness would have constituted no part of his felicity, had he remained upright. When he came out of the Creator's hand, he was "put into the garden to dress it and to keep it." His disposition to idleness may have been occasioned by the fall. Had man retained his maker's image, it is not probable that young minds would have received habits of virtue, and been imbued with knowledge, without parental aid--that instinct would have supplied the place of instruction, and superseded the use of it. Had man remained upright his whole work have been diverse from that which now employs him. The earth would have required little culture --none which would have wearied its inhabitants. The mind, free from every corrupt bias, would have been open to instruction, which would have flowed from the parent and been received by the child, with delightful ease and joy. Man devoted to the service of God, would have devoted his all to God, especially his offspring. Then to have poured knowledge, and especially the knowledge of God, into the placid docile mind of the pious youth, what delight would it have given to the soul glowing with divine love! Since the apostasy, children are the joy of parents. With all their depravity and perverseness, which greatly lower down the comfort parents would otherwise occasion, they love them next to life, and see their improvements with peculiar joy. Especially doth the godly parent rejoice to witness in them good things toward the Lord-- religious dispositions--concern to know and serve God, and become _a godly seed_. "He hath no greater joy than to observe his children walking in the truth." Had man retained his first estate, his joy of this kind would have been full. He would have trained up a holy, happy progeny--"a seed to serve the Lord." In the present state of human nature, the raising of _a godly seed_, is more difficult, but no less necessary. Endeavors to this end may be even more so. Man left from his childhood, uninstructed and unrestrained, to follow his natural bias, would become a monster among God's creatures! Therefore the importance of parental faithfulness, as divine honor, and human happiness are regarded. * * * * * * SERMON XXII. Parental Duties considered and urged. Malachi ii. 15. "And did not he make one? Yet had he the residue of the Spirit. And wherefore one? That he might seek a godly seed." Some general observations on the importance of education, especially parental education, were made in the preceding discourse. We are now to consider the ways and means by which parents, are _to seek a godly seed_. Only general directions can here be given. Much will be left to the discretion of those concerned. Some of the principal parental duties are, _Dedication of their children to God, followed by instruction--restraint--good example, and prayer_. We shall treat on each of these briefly in their order. 1. Of _dedication of children to God. By a godly seed_, children consecrated to the service of God, and set apart for him, is commonly intended, This implies some rites of consecration. These there have been, probably, from the beginning; though we have no information what they were, till the days of Abram. Before the flood we read of "sons of God" who married "the daughters of men;" a sad union which led to the universal degeneracy of mankind. The "sons of God" are supposed to have been the descendants of Seth; "the daughters of men," to have been of the family of Cain. But why the distinction of "sons of God, and daughters of men?" It arose, no doubt, from external differences. The former had the seal of godliness set upon them, whatever that seal might be; and were trained up to attend the worship and ordinances of God--they were visibly of the household of faith; none of which were the case with the latter. * That the former were all renewed, and children of God by regeneration, is not probable--they are termed sons of God, on account of their covenant relation to him. * Tenders of pardon and life were made to the whole human race, through a Mediator, and the church at first included the whole family of Adam; but this did not long continue. Cain, enraged that his offering was not accepted, slew his brother, and "went out from the presence of the Lord"--left his father's house, in which God was worshipped, and where his ordinances were administered--cast off religion, and taught his children to disregard it. His progeny were not deficient in worldly wisdom. They cultivated the arts of life, and made improvements in them, as appears from the sketch of their history given by Moses. + But they were without God in the world; having cast off his fear, and the apprehension of his presence, and their accountableness, which often follow the dereliction of the divine institutions. + Genesis iv. 17-22. So the posterity of Jacob were called "the children of God--the people of God--a holy seed--a royal priesthood," because of their external, nominal distinctions. These appropriate terms continued as long as they remained God's visible people, and had the seal of his covenant set upon them, though they had so corrupted themselves as to be even worse than the heathen. And Jerusalem is called the _holy city_ even after it had filled up the measure of its wickedness by murdering the Lord of glory. * * Matthew xxvii. 53. From the days of Abraham, we know the seal of God's covenant, and how parents have been required to dedicate their offspring to him, as a visible sign of their being consecrated to his service, and as a bond on parents to train them up in his fear. And those who have been of the household of faith, and been duly instructed, have considered themselves obliged to discharge these duties; nor have they neglected them. 2. Dedication _must be followed by instruction_. Parents must cultivate the tender mind--instill the principles of virtue--infuse the knowledge of God, and of the duties due to God and man. This is a matter of the greatest importance. If youthful minds are not imbued with knowledge and virtue, they will not remain blank; the void will be filled with that which tends to mischief, and leads to woe and infamy. When we look among pagans and savages, we are struck with their vices and follies, which raise our disgust, or excite our pity. But who hath made us to differ from them! Is it not that divine Sovereign who "divided to the nations their inheritance, when he separated the sons of Adam," who cast our lot among the civilized and enlightened, who having been taught, of God, taught us the way of happiness? Had we been born among heathens, we should probably have been heathens; if among savages, should not have differed from them--should have gloried, perhaps in those refinements in cruelty, which they consider an accomplishment, but which we shudder to hear related. It is not probable that we should have had native discernment sufficient to have raised us above our fellows--to have enabled us to discover their delusions and the absurdity of their views. Had we been denied revelation, we should probably have been ignorant of our fallen state and need of a Savior, and might have "perished for lack of vision." How far God might have pitied our necessary ignorance, we know not; but we can now discern no way of salvation, except by faith in Christ, with repentance from dead works. Now, the knowledge of these, and the necessity of holiness of heart and life, we have received, not by immediate revelation, but from our fellow men. And most of those who receive them, to saving effect, receive the first impressions in early life; receive them from those with whom they are conversant in their tender years. The forming mankind to virtue, and rendering them _a godly seed_, depends much on the means _then_ used with them, and the bias then given to the mind. 3. Restraint is _also necessary in the morning of life_. BY nature man is inclined to evil. This disposition originated in the apostasy and descends to the whole race, rendering them untractable and unreachable--easily susceptible of bad impressions and indisposed to good ones. It appears and operates at a very early period of life. "The wicked are estranged from the womb; they go astray as soon as they are born speaking lies. Their poison is like the poison of a serpent; they are like the deaf adder that stoppeth her ear."-- Such declarations are not indeed to be understood literally. None are equal transgressors, before they are capable of moral action, which is the state of the new born infant. He cannot speak lies who hath not yet attained the power of speech. The poison of human depravity may, however be compared to that of the serpent, which begins in its formation, and discovers itself when first capable of action. We see the effects of depravity in the child, while reason is yet weak and only budding forth. It is one of the first appearances in the progress of a human being from infancy to manhood. When these are discovered, restraint should begin. Parents who seek _a godly seed_, should no longer delay to counteract the corrupt disposition, and endeavor to give the young creature, committed to their care, another and a better bias. But, alas! Parental affection too often degenerates into weakness, and giving way to natural perverseness, suffers it to take its course; the consequences of which are often fatal to peace and honor in after life; perhaps in that also which is to come. It is of primary importance that restraint should hold back the young agent from that which is evil; and as far as may be, prevent him from associating with the vile, who disregard the voice of conscience and harden themselves in sin. Suitable correction to impress an early sense of the evil of sin, and praise to encourage and allure in the paths of virtue, are also acts of kindness to the unexperienced creature who is entering on the war of life, and coming forward to act its part among enemies and temptations, and thus to prepare for honor or infamy, joy or misery eternal. Though no fruit of this kind attention may immediately appear beneficial consequences commonly follow; though sometimes at a later period than was expected; yea after expectation hath ceased. 4. Example is _another mean of seeking a godly seed_. Good example is particularly incumbent on all who are exalted to rule, whether in larger, or smaller communities. In the history of Israel we observe the morals of the nation commonly agreeing with those of the governing prince. Nor was this peculiar to that people; it holds generally, in a considerable degree, of every other. The manners and morals of all who live in society, usually take a tinge from those of their rulers. This is particularly the case with smaller societies; especially with families. Children often imbibe the sentiments, learn the manners, and catch somewhat of the tempers of those with whom they live, as well as learn their language. _Do we seek a godly seed_? It concerns us to be careful what examples we set before the youth who attend us. Youth watch and observe adults, especially those to whom they look up as friends, and whose love and kindness they daily experience. Adults are disposed to think favorably of those who shew them kindness. From the view of a child, it hides every fault. That a thing was done by a respected parent justifies it to a child, however criminal it might appear in another. The temper and conduct, of a benefactor, make a deeper impression than his words, and have more influence on the judgment of those entering on life. Even little children feel the force of our Savior's rule of judging--"By their fruits ye shall know them." Every thing conspires to prejudice children in favor of parents, and to dispose them to follow their examples. Bad example is in them especially seducing. Children generally follow it, where it is set before them. Coinciding with their natural bias, precept and counsel are commonly lost upon them, if taught by parental example to do evil. It is therefore of the greatest importance, especially to the members of a family, that the head should "behave himself wisely in a perfect way, and walk within his house with a perfect heart." 5. Prayer, _especially family prayer is another means seeking a godly seed_. This duty is important, as it tends to solemnize the heart, and produce a serious and devout temper; and as it tends to draw down the divine blessing on those who attend it. When children witness a parent daily looking up to heaven, and fervently imploring the divine blessing on himself and them--when they hear him humbly confessing sin, and its demerits, and imploring pardon--when they observe him devoutly thanking God for existence, for continuance in life, and for all its comforts--when they hear him asking grace to help and divine direction and guidance--when they see him besieging the throne of grace for the Holy Spirit to renew and sanctify them, enable them to do every duty, fill them with love to God and man, enable them to bear injuries and requite them with kindness, yea, to be good and do good--to make them faithful unto death and then to receive them to the mansions of glory, and are called to join in these solemn addresses to heaven, What other lesson is equally instructive? What hath so dire a tendency to solemnize the heart and impress it with the most just and weighty religious sentiments? In this view, family prayer is of vast importance. If attended as every serious person may attend it, cannot be wholly without effect, and hath often the happiest effect. It is not great talents, or showy gifts, but seriousness, solemnity and fervor, which render prayer prevalent with God and beneficial to man, as a means of exciting to other duties, and producing religious awe and reverence. This duty is also important, as tending to draw down the divine blessing on the devout worshipper and on his connexions. Every good gift cometh down from God; but his gifts are usually bestowed in answer to prayer--"Ye have not because ye ask not--Ask, and it shall be given you--for every one that asketh, receiveth." --Spiritual mercies are seldom given but in answer to prayer; and seldom long denied to earnest persevering prayer. This is the spirit of one of our Savior's parables, * and the purport of many passages in the word of God. * Luke xviii. 1, &c. And when a person hath omitted nothing in his power to make his children wise to salvation, what so natural, what so reasonable, as to bring them to God, and pour out his soul before him, for his blessing upon them? And what so prevalent with "him who heareth prayer?" It is storied of Augustine, who lived in the fourth century, that though the son of an eminently pious mother, he was a very vicious youth--that a Christian seeing him pass in the street, spake of him as an abandoned character, with whom it was disgraceful to associate --which another hearing, observed, that he was the child of so many prayers, _that he could not believe that he would be lost_--nor was he lost. Those prayers were heard. He was called of God, and like Saul of Tarsus, made a chosen vessel to bear God's name to a scoffing world, and do much in the cause of the divine Redeemer. * * Witherspoon's Sermon on Education. The fervent prayers which godly parents offer up for their children, ascend like the prayers and aims of good Cornelius for a memorial before God. When sincere and persevering, they return not empty. They often draw down the divine blessing on those for whom they are offered up. If they fail through filial obstinacy and perverseness, they draw a blessing on themselves, to their eternal joy. * * * * * These are some of the ways in which parents should seek a godly feed. But, alas! These duties are much neglected; therefore the declension of religion, and the prevalence of vice. Those who enter into covenant with God, bind themselves to discharge these duties. Others are not devoid of obligation to do the same. They are duties which rise out of the parental relation, and are indissolubly connected with it. Parents have a fondness for their children, and with their felicity. But do not some who believe them made for eternity, take care only for the mortal part, which after all their care must ere long become food for worms, and turn to dust! Are there not parents who neither dedicate their children to God, nor teach them his fear, nor walk before them in the right way, nor commend them to the divine mercy! Cruel parents! Unhappy children! How difficult, how dangerous their situation! By nature disposed to error--assaulted by subtil enemies, whose temptations fall in with their natural bias, and are strengthened by the conduct of those whom they love as friends and revere as guides! Little chance have such unexperienced and unsuspecting creatures to escape the snares which surround them! Dangerous, and almost desperate is their situation! Perhaps the endless misery of some may be greatly chargeable on those who under God, gave them being! Affecting thought! It concerns parents to think on these things. If they consider, they must feel their obligation _to seek a godly seed_, and be afraid to neglect it. And let pious parents be persuaded to labor and not faint in the discharge of the duties which they owe to God, and the young immortals committed to their care. Though their counsels may be condemned, and their prayers seem not to be regarded by him who hath power to change the heart, let them not be discouraged, but persevere. "Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy." Though the seed lie long under the clods, it will not be lost, but some how, bring forth fruit. The counsels, warnings, and examples of faithful godly parents commonly make some impression on the children who affect to disregard them. The most dissolute have their serious moments; their pangs of remorse and terror. At such seasons their parents' warnings, prayers and tears recur to their minds, and seem to rise up before them. This often happens after parental labors have ceased; and after the impressions they might have made, were supposed to have been effaced, they sometimes produce happy effects. Few children who have been dedicated to God, taught to know and serve him, and the consequences which will follow their conduct here, and witnessed their parents' deep concern, and earned cries to God in their behalf can forget them--they must, they do, at times, affect them. While any thing of this nature remains, there is hope. Some, who in early life, scoff at warning and counsel, are afterwards brought to repentance: And such often testify, that impressions made by parental faithfulness in their tender years, were the means of their awakening and amendment. This should encourage those whose children give them little hope, to persevere in the discharge of duty. "The Lord said of Abraham--I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment, _that the Lord might bring upon Abraham that which he hath spoken of him_." What? The richest and most lasting blessings--_because "he would command his children--to keep the way of the Lord_." "It is not a vain thing to serve God. Then--(when he maketh up his jewels) shall ye return and discern between the righteous and the wicked; between him that serveth God, and him that serveth him not." In no other way can we serve him more acceptably than by following Abraham's example--"commanding our households to serve the Lord," and setting them the example. Whoso doth it, "shall in no wise lose his reward." And happy the youth who second the endeavors of their parents to render them _a godly seed_. Such "will find life and obtain favor of the Lord." Here, they rejoice the hearts of those who love them, and smooth the rugged path of age. The years which to others have no pleasures in them, are not devoid of comfort to those who witness filial piety and hope to live again in a godly offspring. Such parents rejoice in death, and their _godly seed_, will rejoice with them forever, in heavenly mansions. * * * * * * SERMON XXIII. The Blessing of God on Filial Piety. Jeremiah xxxv. 19. "Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, 'Jonadab, the son of Rechab, shall not want a man to stand before me forever.'" Israel were greatly depraved before the days of this prophet, who was sent to reprove and call them to repentance. The prophet faithfully discharged his trust; but labored to very little effect. The chiefs of the nation were offended at its warnings and predictions--rose up against him--shut him up in prison; yea in a dark dungeon, where he sank in the mire; and even sought his life! He was not, however discouraged.. He continued "to warn the wicked from his way, that he should turn from it. None of these things moved him." This was not the only messenger sent of God to warn that people--he sent to them all his servants, the prophets; but they would not hear; The Jews of that age flattered themselves, that God would never enter into judgment with them. "He might pour his fury on the heathen; but they should escape--their place and nation would never feel the effects of his wrath, or become the theatre of his judgments--they were his people--necessary to his honor--he was their God; and would continue their God, whatever their character, or conduct." The prophets warned them of their mistake--told them that the judgments of heaven hung over them--that their city and sanctuary would be destroyed, many of them perish in the war, and the residue he removed into strange lands, there to serve their enemies--"but they seemed to that degenerate people as those who mocked, and they believed them not." There is a certain grade of depravity which scoffs at warnings and laughs at the shakings of God's spear! When this hath become the general character of a people, desolating judgments are near. Those who conceive mercy to be the only attribute of Deity; or the only attribute which he can exercise _towards them_, are commonly deaf to warnings. Sure evidence that they are given up of God--that his spirit hath ceased to strive with them. Rarely are those brought to repentance who entertain such views of God. Perhaps never, unless their views of him are changed. They have no fear of God before their eyes. If mercy absorbed every other attribute, there could be no place for fear. And of what enormity are those incapable who have lost the fear of God? Such corruption of principle is the bane of practice, and prelude of ruin and wretchedness. The history of the Hebrews, and the history of mankind, confirm the truth of this remark. This prophet having long warned his charge to no purpose, is here directed to apply to them in another manner--to try to shame them into contrition, by setting before them the part acted by a particular family which dwelt among them--the Rechabites, who had for ages religiously obeyed the injunctions of one of their ancestors, left probably as his dying charge. Some of that progenitor's requirements seemed rigorous, but being the order of a respected ancestor the family considered them as obligatory; nor could they be persuaded to violate them in any particular, though publicly invited to it by a prophet. It _may be proper here to make some inquiries relative to these Rechabites--to the person whose charge they conceived so binding; and the nature and design of the charge_. The Rechabites are said to have been a branch of the Kenites, and to have descended from Hobab, the son of Jethro, Moses' father in law. * * Vide Henry and Brown's Dictionary. While Israel were encamped at the foot of Mount Sinai, that Midianitish priest, or prince, visited Moses, bringing with him, Zipporah, the wife of Moses and her children, who had been sent to her father's as a place of safety, during the troubles in Egypt. Not long after, Hobab, the son of Jethro, appears to have been with Israel in the wilderness; and he was invited to go with them to the land of promise, and take his lot among them, and was promised an equal share of blessings with the seed of Jacob--"If thou wilt go with us, it shall be, that what goodness the Lord shall do unto us, the same will we do unto thee." At first Hobab declined, but he eventually complied; as his descendants were among the Hebrews after their settlement in Canaan, and they continued among them, and remained a distinct family, down to the captivity. One branch of these Kenites was denominated from Rechab, an illustrious chief of the house of Hobab; who had a son, or descendant, named Jonadab, or Jehonadab, as his name is sometimes written. Jonadab was renowned for wisdom and piety. He flourished in the days of Jehu, almost three centuries before the Babylonish captivity; and was so famed for sanctity and attachment to true religion, that only being seen in his company was a recommendation to the regard of its friends. Therefore was he treated with respect by Jehu, while he pretended a regard for the true God--therefore was he taken up by that prince into his chariot, and made his partner in the destruction of idolatry. Such was the man who left this charge to his descendants, which was so sacredly regarded by them, for so long a term. This was a remarkable family. Another who have paid equal attention to the orders of a departed progenitor, and in which none of the members appear to have degenerated from his virtue, is not perhaps to be found in the annals of mankind! But our surprise will increase if we attend to the nature of the charge. The prophet was directed to gather the whole family of the Rechabites --bring them into the house of the Lord--set wine before them and invite them to drink. He obeyed; offering them a treat, as a family known and respected in Israel. This was not done to tempt them, but to reprove the Jews, who resorted in great numbers to the temple; though they had cast off the fear of the God there worshipped. God knew, and had probably informed the prophet, that the wine would be refused. It was refused, and the reason, assigned--"We will drink no wine; for Jonadab,--the son of Rechab, our father commanded us, saying, Ye shall drink no wine, ye, nor your sons forever, Neither shall ye build house, nor sow seed, nor have any: But all your days ye shall dwell in tents; that ye may live many days, in the land where ye be strangers." Some of these may seem to be strange restrictions; but they speak the piety of him who laid them, and his regard to the eternal, if not to the temporal interests, of his posterity. The prohibition seems to have been the same with the law of the Nazerites. Wine is doubtless here used in a large sense, for every kind of strong drink. "Wine was given to make glad the heart of man." He is allowed to use it with temperance and sobriety: But so many abuse it to their own hurt, and to the injury of society, that it is rather a curse, than a blessing, to the world. Seeing the evils which resulted from the abuse--the devastation of men and morals, which it occasioned, this good man, from love to his offspring, warned them wholly to abstain from it. And what evils would many others have avoided, had they considered the counsel as given to them, and like this family, religiously regarded it? The ravages of intemperance, exceed those of the sword; and the moral evils it hath occasioned surpass description! But why the other restrictions included in the charge? Why must the descendants of Jonadab be denied the comfort of warm and convenient dwellings, and reside in tents through every season of the year, to all generations? Why must they possess neither fields nor vineyards, which were allowed to others, and promised to Israel, as part of the blessing, when they should settle in Canaan? Peculiarities unknown to us, might render it proper for them to submit to self denials to which others are not called. What they were we presume not to determine. * * Mr. Henry undertakes to assign the reasons of all these injunctions; but as none can be assigned which are not merely conjectural, we choose rather to leave each one to make his own conjectures, as he may find occasion. Mankind are exceedingly prone to set up their rest here, and promise themselves permanent dwellings on this rolling ball. Could this man of God persuade his posterity that this was not their home, and engage them to seek another country, that is, an heavenly, and lay up their treasure there, whatever self denials it might cost them, it must have been, on the whole for their advantage. This might be the general design of his counsel. But whatever might be the design, admirable was the effect. The whole family seemed to have listened to his advice, and for many ages to have obeyed his voice! "Thus have we obeyed the voice of Jonadab, the son of Rechab our father, in all that he charged us--and done according to all that he commanded us!" This was not said only of themselves, who then flood before the prophet, but of the whole family, from the time the charge was given, down to that day. There is not the smallest probability that a numerous family would inquire after, and find out a code of rules and regulations which had been given nearly three centuries before, and all take it on them to observe them, if they had been neglected by their fathers, down to their time. They had doubtless been observed with punctuality from the days of Jonadab. Their answer to the prophet implies it. This had been known in Israel. Therefore were they brought into public view, and made the occasion of a solemn rebuke of that favored, but ungrateful people who had disregarded the injunctions of an infinite God! This was the end proposed in bringing the Rechabites into the temple at this time, and gave occasion to the record here made to their honor, and to the blessings promised them from above. Some may laugh at the singularity of this strange family--may consider it an evidence of weakness to pay such regard to the silly requisitions of a superstitious ancestor--deny themselves so many comforts--make themselves so singular--engage those with whom they married to conform to the rules of their house, and instil the same into their children from generation to generation! But whatever we may think of them, it is manifest that this supposed weakness met the divine approbation. The prophet speaks of them with honor; blesseth them in the name of the Lord, and declares, in his name, that their filial piety shall not go unrewarded. "And Jeremiah said unto the house of the Rechabites, Thus saith the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, Because ye have obeyed the commandment of Jonadab your father, and--done according to all that he commanded you: _Therefore, thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, Jonadab the son of Rechab, shall not want a man to stand before me forever_." These are not simply expressions of approbation, but contain invaluable promises. They are made in the language of the old testament, but to those blessed with gospel light, their meaning is not obscure or difficult. The promise secured the continuance of this family, and a succession of men of piety and virtue in it as long as God's people continued--They should _never want a man to stand before the Lord_--to serve him. That family had no office at the temple, but in a course of regular devotion, they stood before God, to minister unto him. This should continue--they should remain a religious family. Men of piety should always be found among them. When the prophet had laid these matters before the Jews, he made the application, and denounced the judgments of God against them, unless they turned by repentance. "Thus faith the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, Go, and tell the men of Judah, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem--Will ye not receive instruction to hearken to my words? Saith the Lord. The words of Jonadab, the son of Rechab, that he commanded his sons not to drink wine, are performed; for unto this day they drink none, but obey their father's commandment: Notwithstanding I have spoken unto you, rising early and speaking; but ye hearkened not unto me." The prophet then proceeded to remind them of the warnings which had been given them, and the means which had been used with them, and to denounce the judgments of God against them--"Thus saith the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, I will bring upon Judah, and upon all the inhabitants of Jerusalem, all the evil that I have pronounced against them; because I have spoken unto them, but they have not heard; and have called unto them, but they have not answered." If we consider the state of that people, and the advantages which they had neglected and abused, we shall be convinced that their guilt was attended with many aggravations--no other people had so many advantages and means of information; and few beside were equally depraved. The family of Rechab might rise up against them and condemn them. That family had been long obedient to a man like themselves--the Jews had been disobedient to the God who is above. Jonadab was dead --if his descendants disregarded his injunctions, he might have no power to punish their disobedience; but the God of Israel lived--was acquainted with all their crimes, and able to punish their sin upon them. Neither doth it appear that the Rechabites had ever been reminded of the orders of their progenitor, or their obligation to obey him; but the Jews had been often reminded of their duty; in the stated, and ordinary means of grace they were daily reminded of their obligation to obey God; and he had also sent all his servants the prophets, to call them to repentance; neither had God required such self denials of his people, as Jonadab of his posterity--yet Jonadab had been obeyed, and God had been disobeyed! His people "would not receive instruction." Therefore were his judgments executed upon them, agreeably to his threatening; and they are left on record for our instruction. "Now these things happened unto them for ensamples [sic]; and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come." REFLECTIONS. In the part acted by the father of the Rechabites, we witness the concern of a good man, that his children should mind the things of religion. That good man did not scruple to lay heavy burdens on his descendants, and cut them off from many temporal enjoyments, if it might serve to keep them humble, and cause them _to stand before the Lord_. He chose rather to have his family poor, than to have them proud and vicious.--Hardships which might serve to keep them mindful of their situation here, he judged advantageous: Therefore the charge he left with them. Pious parents do not generally leave such things in charge to their children. They do not, however, neglect the concerns of religion, or leave their families ignorant of them, or their obligation to regard them. They teach them to fear the Lord, and live in all good conscience before him. II. In the historical sketch here given of the Rechabites, we see how good people of old, were influenced by parental authority--how they considered themselves bound to remember and obey the injunctions of religious ancestors, as they wished the blessing of God. Where such injunctions are disregarded it is an evidence of great depravity. Sad instances of this kind we sometimes witness in this degenerate age. We sometimes see godly parents, who had labored before in vain to render their children truely religions, spend their last hours in urging them not to receive the grace of God in vain--see them with deep concern, and with their dying breath, charging them to mind the things of religion, and not rest until they have found the Savior. Though at first some impression seems to be made, it often soon wears off, and the warnings and counsels of those who loved them as their own souls, are forgotten and neglected! Could these things be foreseen, sense of duty would only extort such admonitions from a pious parent, at the solemn period of his departure; for like a neglected gospel, they are "a favor of death unto death," to those who hear them! But this is not always the case. No means have a more direct and powerful tendency to awaken the secure, and excite the attention of the careless, than the dying concern and counsel of the saints. Perhaps no other means are oftener blessed to this end. This leads us to observe, III. That the part we act here may have consequences, long after we shall have gone off the stage. This venerable Kenite left a solemn charge to his posterity; but who could foresee the effect? There was little reason to expect that his descendants would regard it, and be advantaged by it for centuries; yet it seems to have been the case! His counsels, strengthened by his example, made an indelible impression, and were means of distinguishing his family for many generations! This should encourage others to follow his example--to charge their children to "keep the way of the Lord, and walk in his ordinances and commandments blameless." Who knows that his posterity may not imitate those of this man of God? And for as long a term? Who can determine that his good example, and counsels may not do good on earth, when his body shall be mouldering in the grave, and his soul rejoicing in the presence of his God. On the other hand, there is more than equal reason to expect that a parent's bad example will be no less extensively influential to mischief. Many are seduced to their ruin by the contagion of evil example; nor is any other more perniciously prevalent than that of a parent, or progenitor. Be it then the concern of all who fear the Lord to charge their children, to fear him, and to set them the example of "standing before the Lord." So to do, is to sow the seeds of virtue and piety. A harvest may follow, even after expectation hath failed. If no other advantage accrues, the faithful will deliver his own soul; he may be the occasion of delivering others; "converting sinners from the error of their ways; saving souls from death, and hiding multitudes of sins." * * James v. 19, 20. IV. The honorable mention made of the Rechabites, and the blessings promised them, should influence children to listen to the pious counsels of their parents, and attend the duties which they consider important, and charge them to attend, especially at the close of life. That the godly when on the verge of eternity, are divinely influenced to warn their friends, and predict the good or evil before them, was an opinion which prevailed among the ancients. Therefore the sacred attention paid to their dying words, and scrupulous regard of their dying counsels. Whether we admit, or reject the sentiment, the counsels which are given at such seasons are serious, solemn, and the effect of love unfeigned. Those to whom they are given commonly view matters in the same light, and consider them as interesting realities, when they come to be themselves in similar circumstances. Have our pious ancestors left ought in charge to us? It concerns us to consider their counsels and injunctions; and unless we have clear and strong reasons forbidding, we are bound to obey them. Children are usually safe in following the last counsels of their parents. Few who sustain that endearing relation, are devoid of concern for the honor and happiness of their offspring. However they may have themselves conducted, while in the pursuit of worldly objects, or under the influence of appetite or passion, when they come to stand on the brink of another world, the fascinating charms of this, lose their power--the infinite difference between time and eternity appears; and the true value of objects is seen and estimated. Then the counsel which is given is that of wisdom--it points to duty --to peace and honor--to joy and glory, It is further observable that rich promises are made in scripture to those who honor and obey their parents, and dreadful curses denounced against those who despise and disobey them. "Honor thy father and thy mother, that it may be well with thee and that thou mayest live long upon the earth. This is the first commandment with promise. The eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it." These scriptures are not of private interpretation. V. Where the blessing of heaven hath long rested on a family, and religion been prevalent in it for many generations, the right way becomes comparatively easy. Those born there, grow up in the fear of God, and are early taught to know and serve him. But how aggravated the guilt of those who under such circumstances forsake the way of the Lord--cut of the entail of mercy and entail a curse on their posterity--shut up the kingdom of heaven against their own offspring; neither going in themselves, nor suffering those who are entering to go in? Lost to the fear of God, such hardened sinners may cry peace, but there is no peace to them! It concerns them to look to themselves, for evil is before them! A descent from pious ancestors will not turn away the wrath of God, from those who harden themselves in sin. No--It increaseth their guilt and will increase their condemnation. The Jews flattered themselves "because they had Abraham to their father; but many came from the east and from the west and set down with Abraham in the kingdom of God, and the children of the kingdom were cast out" --Yea, having filled up the measure of their sins, wrath came upon them, to the uttermost, in this world; and in that to come, it will be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrha than for them. * * * * * * SERMON XXIV. The Character and Supports of Widows indeed. 1 Timothy v. 5. "Now she that is a Widow indeed, and desolate, trusteth in God and continueth in supplications and prayers night and day." * * Preached at the house of one made a widow by her husband's desertion; who left her in straitened circumstances to provide for a young family. Timothy was ordained a bishop of the church at Ephesus; and this epistle was written to him by St. Paul, his spiritual father, to teach him "how to behave himself in the house of God, which is the church of the living God." The former part of the context contains directions respecting the treatment of widows; and especially poor widows who belonged to the church, and were supported at their expense. He is first directed to "honor widows who were widows indeed." Here the apostle explains his meaning, by designating the character intended. Now "_She that is a widow indeed, and desolate, trusteth in God, and continueth in supplications and prayers night and day_." Every widow did not answer to this description. There were some who answered to no part of it, as he shews below. These Timothy was not required to honor--not directed to provide for them, or employ them in the business of the church; though certain poor and pious women were then used to minister to the sick, of their own sex, and discharge other charitable labors among them. In discoursing on our subject, we shall _make a few observations on the sorrows of widowhood; then glance at the duties of it; and the supports which God hath provided for widows indeed_. A widowed state is naturally desolate, Most widows pass many solitary hours--a lonesome and melancholy situation;--especially after having known and enjoyed the social intercourse of connubial life. The value of all our comforts is best known by experience; more especially by their loss, after a temporary possession. But the conjugal connexion is sometimes unhappy. In such cases a widowed state is a release from the trials and difficulties which attended it, which may be severe and distressing. The misconduct, or unkindness of those in the nearest relation, wounds in the tenderest part, and occasions the most pungent grief. True.--Yet a state of widowhood, after such a connexion, is commonly more unhappy than after a happy marriage. Many disagreeables are generally left to afflict the desolate. Reflections on such connexions and the trying scenes passed while they continued, are disagreeable; and many cares peculiar to their situation often distress the widows. The care of offspring, where there are offspring, devolves wholely on them; which, if left in straitened circumstances, is often a burden they are unable to bear. And where aid is kindly afforded, still the concern which lies on them, is oft times distressing. "Pangs and sorrows take hold upon them--their couch is wet with tears; their eyes consumed with grief." If those thus tried are _widows indeed_, they follow the line drawn in the text--_trust in God, and continue in prayers and supplications night and day_. As it is the duty, it is also the comfort and support of _the desolate to trust in God_. When streams dry up, we go to the fountain: So when creature comforts fail, interest unites with duty, in pointing us tothe Creator. He is the source of comfort--that which comes by means of the creature comes from him. The creature is only the medium of conveyance. When the saints become desolate--when their worldly comforts fail and their hopes decay, they are directed to return to God and put their trust in him; and also to bring with them, those for whom they feel interested--their helpless dear ones, and he hath promised them protection. "Leave thy fatherless children, and I will preserve them alive, and let thy widows trust in me." Fallen creatures are exceedingly prone to lean to the world--to promise themselves comfort in it, and support from it. They generally look elsewhere before they look to God. Disappointed in one worldly object they often run to another, and another. They never come to the Creator, and make him their hope, till convinced that what they seek is not to be found in the creature. God sometimes brings his people into straits, and strips them of their earthly dependencies, that having no where else to trust they may come to him and cast their care upon him. Even the Christian may need the rod of adversity to keep him mindful of his dependence on God, and prevent his resting on the creature for support. For after union with Christ, worldly objects retain too large a share of his affection, and he is too much inclined to lean upon them. His attachment to these things is often too strong; draws away his heart from God, and renders him too little mindful of him who is his portion and rest. Therefore is it often necessary to deprive him of his earthly dependencies, that being desolate, he may return to God and renew his reliance on him. It becomes the desolate, not only to trust in God, but to be thankful that they may trust in him. Those who have God for their portion, have an abiding satisfying portion. God will be more and better to them than earthly friends, or earthly treasures. Friends often forsake them; or cease to be friends, and become enemies--"Riches take to themselves wings and fly away." But God abides; he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. * * Hebrews xiii. 5. Now _she that is a widow indeed, and desolate, while she trusteth in God continueth in supplications and prayers night and day_. Those of this character when they find themselves destitute of worldly comforts and supports, go to God and pour out their souls into his bosom. Like the Psalmist they stir up themselves to trust in him. We find that saint expostulating with himself in a time of trouble and darkness, and chiding his despondent temper. "Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God." While thus stirring up themselves to trust in God, the saints pour out their souls before him in fervent prayer. This the apostle declares to be the manner of those, whom he terms _widows indeed--they trust in God, and continue in supplications and prayers night and day_. Such was the aged Anna, who met the infant Savior, when he was brought into the temple, to do for him after the custom of the law. "She departed not from the temple, but served God, with fastings and prayers night and day." The child, when in affliction, is wont to run to its parents and tell them the sad tale of its sorrows. So the child of God, stripped of other supports, spreads its grief before him who possesses all power, and is able to deliver out of all distresses: And as the child continues its cries and pleadings with its parent, as long as its sorrows continue; so the child of God, while it remains in affliction, perseveres in supplications and prayers to its Father in heaven. When seeking temporal blessings the good man asks with submission, "Not as I will but as thou wilt"--teach me to acquiesce in thy dealings and to say "thy will be done." But when seeking spiritual blessings, he cannot be too importunate, or persevering. Respecting these, the divine glory, unites with his interest, in requiring him to "be instant in prayer--to pray and not faint." Or, to use the bold language of the prophet, to resolve to "give God no rest," till he hears and helps. In such cases the saints may plead God's honor and the glory of his great name, as well as their own necessities. When we come to ask mercy of God, and to pray for grace to love and serve him, we may plead and expostulate for the bestowment. Is it not thy will, that we should be renewed and sanctified--that we should repent of sin--believe the gospel, and follow after holiness? Is it not thy will that we should become new creatures--love thee--love our duty, and resign ourselves to thy disposal? Is it not thy will, that we should act with propriety under every trial, and discharge with faithfulness every duty--that we should honor thee in adversity, as well as in prosperity? Grant us then those divine influences which are necessary for us. The honor of thy great name is concerned--it unites with our necessities in requiting the bestowment of the mercies which we ask. Thus did Moses when pleading for Israel, when God had threatened to destroy them for their rebellions against him. "Now if thou kill this people as one man, then the nations which have heard the same of thee, shall speak saying, Because the Lord was not able to bring this people into the land which he sware unto them, therefore hath he slain them in the wilderness--pardon, I beseech thee, the sin of this people, according to the greatness of thy mercy"--So Joshua, on a similar occasion: His plea in their behalf is urged from this consideration, that the honor of God was concerned, and required the mercy which he implored--"What wilt thou do unto thy great name? What? If Israel turn their backs before their enemies? If thy people fail to drive out their enemies and possess the land which thou hast sworn to give them?" We may use the same argument when interceding for the grace which we need to enable us to glorify God by a becoming temper and conduct under trials, and by a suitable improvement of providential dispensations; and it will be our best plea, or most prevalent argument. We may meet with discouragements--God may seem deaf to our cries--to delay his mercy; but if we "pray and faint not," he will not always say to us, nay. He will hear and help us. For his own name's sake he will do it. When the woman of Canaan asked mercy for her daughter, no encouragement was given to her first petition--the reply seemed harsh --"It is not meet to take the children's bread and cast it to dogs." But she persevered, and her faith, and fervor prevailed. "Be it unto thee even as thou wilt." The same will be the answer to every humble suppliant for spiritual mercies, and for divine supports, who perseveres in his addresses at the throne of grace. Respecting temporal matters, we know not what to pray for as we ought --know not what is best for us. Afflictions may be mercies. They often are so. Some have blessed God for them here; more will probably do it hereafter. That they do not usually denote want of love in God, is manifest from the declarations of his word--"Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons--if ye are without chastisement, then are ye bastards and not sons." Those were determined sinners, given over to reprobation, of whom God said, "Why should ye be stricken any more! Ye will revolt more and more." When afflictions serve to purge away sin--to "purify and make white," they are changed into mercies. Instead of complaining, we have reason to bless God for them. This hath often happened. Afflictions arrest the attention--lead to consideration, and reclaim from error. "Before I was afflicted, I went astray, but now I keep thy word." Prosperity hath often a different effect. To the wicked it is frequently fatal in its consequences; here they have their good things, and they rest in them, forgetful of God, and the other world which they must soon enter, to receive according to their works. Neither do the people of God always escape injury when they attain the things they here desire. The prosperity we covet is more dangerous than the adversity we dread. Few can bear prosperity--few remain long uncorrupted in a prosperous state. A state so difficult and dangerous is seldom long the state of the righteous. It is more commonly the state of the wicked. The righteous have their trials here; and this kind of trial, [prosperity] hath more often seduced them, than its opposite. David and Solomon were sad examples of the baleful effects of power and greatness, riches and honor; but they were brought back to God and duty by the rod of disappointment;--by the correctings of affliction. Adversity is not always productive of good. Some repine at the orders of providence--at their lot in the world. Trials sour their minds and render them morose and peevish. We read of some who "blaspheme the God of heaven" because of their sufferings. These are enemies of God, and their sufferings here, are a prelude to greater sufferings hereafter. The case is different with those who have Christ's spirit; they see a providence in whatever they meet with here; refer themselves to him who rules over all to choose for them, and order out their changes, not doubting but his grace will be sufficient for them, and all work for their good. We are sure that God orders wisely. The station then, which he assigns to us, is most suitable for us; the comforts and corrections which he dispenses, most fit and proper. If wise for ourselves we would not wish for alterations in them. We shall only be concerned to follow where God leads, and only pray that he will not leave us, but guide us to his kingdom. Let us bring home these considerations, and inquire how we are affected by God's dealings with us, and what temper we maintain? We have comforts and corrections. Do we see the hand of God in them; acknowledge the comforts to be undeserved, and the corrections less than our demerits? Do we bless God for the former, and humble ourselves under the latter? Or do the former render us forgetful of God, and proud and scornful towards men? Do the latter humble and abase us; keep us mindful that this is not our rest, and quicken our preparations for that world where all tears will he wiped away from our eyes? Or do they cause us to murmur and repine, as though we suffered unjustly? Both mercies and afflictions will be a favor of life or death, according to the effect which they have upon us, and the temper and disposition they produce in us. If mercies increase our love to God, and concern to honor him, then are they mercies indeed. So are afflictions, if they humble us and quicken us in the way of duty; but if their effect is different they increase our guilt, and will increase our condemnation. Whatever may be our situation here--whether we have kind and faithful friends, or are left desolate, or are surrounded with enemies; whether we have joys or sorrows, we need the divine influence to enable us to make a good improvement, and to render them the occasion of good. We need divine aid and influence, no less in prosperity than in adversity. Whatever, therefore, may be our situation and circumstances, sensible of our weakness and blindness, let us return to God as our rest, _trust in him, and continue in supplications and prayers night and day_; and his grace will be sufficient for us; for he hath said to none "seek ye my face in vain." * * * * * * SERMON XXV. The Good Man Useful In Life and Happy in Death. Psalm xxxvii. 37. "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: For the end of that man is peace." * * Preached at the funeral of Asa Witter, Esq. Oct. 9th, 1792. The subject of this psalm is the way and end of the righteous and the wicked. It is designed to calm the minds of good people when tried with adversity, and to reconcile them to the divine administration in the unequal distributions of Providence, and the apparent disregard of character, in those distributions. With these views, the writer, after glancing at the lives of saints and sinners, calls our attention to their end, noting the manner of their exit out of life. The text relates to the righteous. In discoursing upon it, _We shall consider the excellence of their characters, and their peaceful end; and add a few reflections_. I. We _are to consider the excellence of their characters. Mark the perfect man and behold the upright_.-- The _perfect man_.--This may seem a strange representation of an imperfect creature--a creature which viewed in the glass of the divine law appears deformed, and tried by the perfect rule must be condemned --a creature whose best services can find acceptance with God, only on the plan of grace! For such is man since the apostasy--such the saints feel and confess themselves. But however strange the representation, it is drawn by the pen of inspiration, and applied tothe saints. Perfection is sometimes attributed to particular saints. "Noah was a just man and _perfect_ in his generation." Similar is the description given of Job. "There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job: And that man was perfect and upright." In the text, the term perfect, hath not a particular reference, but refers generally, to those who have been renewed by divine grace. But when applied to a fallen creature it must be understood with limitation. We have seen it applied to Job: Hear him then speaking of himself--"If I justify myself, my own mouth shall condemn me. If I say I am _perfect_ it shall prove me perverse." St. John held a high rank among the faithful; yet speaking of the saints, and including himself, he observes--"If we say that we have no sin we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us--If We confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive our sins". * St. Paul had before declared that "there is none righteous, and that the Scripture hath concluded all under sin." * 1 John i. 8-10. In what sense then are the saints perfect? And wherein consists the excellence of their character? 1. The saints are _perfect_ in Christ. "In him dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily." His righteousness is made theirs. "They are complete in him. He is made of God unto them wisdom and righteousness, sanctification and redemption." In this view every good man is a _perfect_ man. The saints before the gospel day were but very partially instructed respecting the way of salvation. They knew not how they were to be saved through a Redeemer who had not come in the flesh. But the matter was open to the divine eye. And it is observable that the term _perfect_ is never assumed by the saints. They confess their own emptiness and abase themselves before God. Where perfection is attributed to them, it is always by those who spake as moved by the Holy Ghost. 2. The saints are the subjects not only of an imputed, but also of an inherent righteousness: And have been so from the beginning. Noah was a just man and perfect--Job _perfect_ and upright. In this respect they were not made to differ from other saints. All the saints are born of God--they are renewed after the image of the Creator and made to bear the image of the heavenly. The change which takes place in them causes them to favor the things of God; to love holiness, and delight to do good as they have opportunity and ability. They are just and upright; just toward man, and upright before God. Justice respects the part which mankind act toward one another. It is opposed to fraud and injustice. The just man is fair in his dealings --gives to all their dues--is careful to fulfil every trust, and to do by others as he would others should do by him. Such is the character given of him of old, who "was _perfect_ in his generations," when "the whole earth was filled with violence, because all flesh had corrupted their way," And every good man follows his example; hath respect to all God's commandments, and hates every evil way. Perfection, in the strict sense of the term, is his wish, and his aim, though he doth not expect to attain it while resident in the body. But he "forgets the things which are behind and reaching forth to those which are before, he presses on," endeavoring a nearer conformity to the divine pattern. While he is just toward man, he is sincere toward God, acting uprightly before him. He is really the good man he appears. His profession is not dissembled. His heart is right--his eye single. Sincerity is gospel perfection. In this true religion very essentially consists: And it is found on all the saints. The good man keeps in mind his covenant engagements. For the vows of God are upon him and he is careful to fulfil them. He doth not wish to be released from his obligations with which he is bound to be the Lord's and to serve him. He is concerned to honor God--thinks nothing unimportant which he hath required, though the reasons of the requirement may lie out of sight. "Lord what wilt thou have me to do?" is his daily inquiry. And he seeks to know, that he may do his duty. He waits on God in the ways of his appointment, and is busy about the work assigned him. He is also steady in his counsels and uniform in his conduct. His heart is established by grace, and his life accords with the inward principle. He is not whiffling and unsteady, "carried about by every wind of doctrine"--taken and drawn away by every new scheme of religion; but "holds fast the faithful word; and is able by sound doctrine both to exhort and convince gainsayers." He doth not "put his hand to the plough and look back," but perseveres to the end, and is faithful unto death. The fear and love of God reigning in his heart, govern his life and direct his way, rendering him an uniform character Therefore do those most intimately --acquainted with him, convinced of his integrity--: that he is free from duplicity, and that he abhors evil, and all approaches toward it, both value him themselves, and make him known to others; and by bringing him into public view, render him a public blessing. Neither doth he disappoint their expectations, but according to his ability, acquits himself with honor, and doth good to all around him. Others may differ from him in speculative opinions; other good men. Such differences are unavoidable in this state of darkness and uncertainty. No two persons see alike in every thing, whatever may be pretended. But those who know _the perfect and upright man_, will generally allow that he acts sincerely towards God and man. While those who are connected with him by tender ties, who are so happy as to make with him the journey of life, are led by a thousand kind offices and nameless acts of benevolence and goodness to revere and love him. Such is the character intended in the text--Such _the perfect man and upright_ in himself, and in the estimation of those who know him. Thus doth he pass through life, feeling and confessing his deficiencies, lamenting that he can do no more for God's honor, and relying on grace alone in Christ, for acceptance with him. When a person of this description "having served his generation, by the will of God falls asleep," not only relatives and near connexions, but all who know his worth, mourn his exit, and weeping around his corse, bedew his hearse with tears. His name is revered, his memory is blessed, and even envy is silent. II. We are to consider his peaceful end--_The end of that man is peace_. By a person's _end_, his death, the period of his mortal life is intended. It doth not intend the end of his existence--the modern infidel terms used to express death. So in other scriptures; as when God foretold the destruction of the old world--"The end of all flesh is before me." So Balaam, when looking forward to his exit out of life--"Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his." Had death been the period of his existence, it would have been a matter of indifference whether it found him righteous or wicked. As to hope in death there would have been no difference. But this is not the case. Man hath an immortal part within. At the period of mortal life, he enters on an interminable state. Mark _the perfect man, and behold the upright: For the end of that man is peace_. He finds peace at the approach of death--in death, and after death. In order to a due estimation of the value of true religion in Himself, and in its reward, we are here called to observe the good man's _end_. It demands our careful attention. For the scene is peculiarly instructive. It animates to a discharge of the duties of life and supports under its troubles; especially at the approach of death, when worldly comforts fly away. The wicked who live in habitual neglect of religion, or the indulgence of vicious desires, are commonly filled with dismay and horror, if reason remains, when they perceive their end draw nigh. The flights which they have cast on the gospel, and on the grace therein offered; their neglects of known duty; their acts of injustice, intemperance, uncleanness, or other immoralities, the remembrance of which were almost obliterated by time, at that awful period rise up before them! Conscience awakes; and when they consider the denunciations of divine wrath against those who do such things, and have pleasure in them, fear harrows up their souls! They anticipate eternal woe, and are filled with agonizing horror! Then do they appear all hurry and confusion! The great work of life to do, and opportunity gone forever! Bewailing past madness they cry undone! Undone! Such often continues their state, till the king of terrors driving them away without hope, shuts up the scene! But _the perfect and upright man_, how happily different when death draws near? If possessed of himself, like the still summer's evening, he is calm and serene. He talks of death with as much composure, as one returning from a strange country, to his native land; or as one returning from captivity and slavery, to his father's house, to his family, and to the society of friends, dear as life, and with much more raised expectations! Some ties of nature--dear connexions, bind him indeed to earth, and would detain him here; but stronger bonds allure and draw him away toward a better world. If concern for dear ones he must leave behind intrudes and tempts him to wish a longer stay, he remembers that though he dies, his God lives--that God hath stiled himself the "Father of the fatherless and judge of the widow;" that he hath said "Leave thy fatherless children with me, I will preserve them alive, and let thy widows trust in me." Supported by such comforting declarations--such kind promises of a faithful God, and the allured belief of his mercy and truth, he resigns them to his care and leaves them with him, not doubting, but he will preserve them, or dispose of them, as shall be most for his own glory, and their good. As to temporal matters, which often trouble those, who are chiefly concerned about worldly things, they cannot greatly affect one who believes himself heir to an eternal inheritance. For the comfort of those whom he leaves behind, he wishes to have his temporalities settled, and his accompts intelligible; that no disputes may arise, no injustice be done; but as to any concern which he personally takes in them, they appear in his view contemptible. He views them as unworthy his regard, as the beggar, who hath been called to the possession of a crown the rags which he casts off to put on his robes. As death approacheth, _the perfect and upright man_, who realizeth his state, looks back with comfort, approving the part he hath acted, after renovation, and forward to the enjoyment of God, with stedfast hope and strong consolation. We have this happiness of a dying saint, exemplified in St. Paul--"I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand: I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid, up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day."--His rejoicing was "the testimony of his conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity, he had had his conversion in the world." In the testimony of his conscience, he read the evidence of his good estate --of his sincerity towards God, and of his interest in Christ, He viewed nothing which he had done as meritorious--as laying God under obligation, Grace in Christ was all his hope. But he considered his love to God, and his zeal in his cause, as evidential that he was born of God, and the subject of divine grace in the Redeemer. Thence he inferred his title to the inheritance, prepared of God for those who love him. Other saints do the same. In the testimony of conscience that they love God, and have obtained grace to serve him, they read their interest in the covenant and in the promises, in all their divine fulness. This is the best, yea, the only evidence, of an interest in them. Where this is found, the matter is determined; there can be no reasonable doubt of their good estate; but where it is wanting, every thing beside is of no avail. It is natural for a servant, when he sees a reckoning day at hand, to look back, and inquire how he hath improved his trust, and what account he hath to give? And from the testimony of conscience, he anticipates the reception he may expect from his lord. MANKIND feel themselves accountable to God and naturally expect to receive from his impartial hand, according to their works; and when they perceive their probation drawing to a close, they naturally look about them, and inquire how they can appear before their Judge? The dying Christian is sometimes heard observing to those about him --"My glass is almost run. Would to God I had been more faithful, and done more for him who loved me, and gave himself for me. But blessed be his name, he hath enabled me to choose him for my portion, and enabled me to serve him in sincerity; though I have done it with much weakness and imperfection. Now I rely on his grace; his grace will be sufficient for me; it will support me in death, and reward my poor services with an eternal reward." But if conscience, as death approacheth, speaks a different language --If it testifies to a departing soul--"You have neglected, the great salvation--lived in pleasure and been wanton, minding only earthly things," it fills the soul with anguish unutterable, causing it to anticipate eternal horrors! The _perfect and upright_, as he rejoiceth at the approach of death, if reason remains, often rejoiceth in death. "When he walks the dark valley, God's rod and staff comfort him--He fears no evil because God is with him." He is sometimes, ready to exclaim in the triumphant language of the resurrection, "O death! where is thy sting? O grave where is thy victory?" Sometimes indeed, the upright, while here, "walk in darkness" --Sometimes the lamp of reason goes out, before the departure of the soul; so that the dying Christian hath no sense of his situation. At other times, God may hide his face from those whom his soul loves, and cause them to go on their way sorrowing. Possibly this may continue to the close of life! But if it doth, the clouds are all dispersed at the moment of death, No sooner are the clayey tabernacles dissolved, than the veil is rent, and the brightness of celestial glory shines in upon them. Peace eternal and divine, is theirs forever. Clouds will no more hide God's face--Fears and doubts, no more distress them; nor Satan call his fiery darts at them, again forever. In the other world, God will dwell with his people, and "wipe away all tears from their eyes: There will be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, nor any more pain; for the former things will all have passed away. There will be no more curse, because no more sin. For the spirits of the just will be made perfect." They will then be with God and rejoice before him; for they will have "entered into his temple to go no more out." REFLECTIONS I. The considerations which have been suggested afford comfort to the righteous, while groaning under the burdens and sorrows of life, and support in the solemn hour of death. They minister consolation also to those who mourn the loss of pious friends--an occasion of sorrow which we often experience in this vale of tears. Here all have trials and afflictions--_the perfect and upright_ not excepted. But the time is short. The good man's trouble terminates with mortal life. _His end is peace_--his immortality glorious. The wicked are dismayed when they look forward and consider their end, or the time of their departure. To the good man it is desirable--"He then rests from his labors, and his works follow him." St. Paul, "had a desire to depart, and be with Christ." He knew that "a crown of righteousness was laid up for him which the Lord, the righteous Judge, would give him at that day." This was not peculiar to him; it is common to all those "who love Christ's appearing." Those now in glory were lately sufferers here: But their sufferings are ended--"They have entered into peace: They rest in their beds, walking in their uprightness." II. Our subject teacheth the conditions on which only we can hope for peace in death, and happiness after death. These depend on the use which we make of life--on the manner in which we are affected by the overtures made us in the gospel; they are the fruit of receiving Christ and obeying the gospel; for it brings salvation only to those who obey it. Would we "die the death of the righteous, and have our last end like his," our lives must be preparatory--we must "mind the things which belong to our peace--live in all good conscience before God, and not suffer ourselves to be moved away from the hope of the gospel." III. Though when "the mystery of God shall be finished, his judgments will be made manifest;" hitherto, "his way is in the sea, and his judgments are a great deep." We know that his way is perfect; but witness many things in the divine administration, which we do not understand. We have no line to fathom the depths of providence. Often _the perfect and the upright_ are early removed out of life --those who are friends of religion, and supporters of order and justice; whose hearts are filled with benevolence--who are the excellent of the earth! While those of different characters, who we should suppose might well be spared, yea, whose removal, we should judge a mercy to the world, are left to prolong their days! Some who are early vicious, and daily grow worse are nevertheless continued, and permitted to dishonor God, and spread error and mischief among mankind, till at "an hundred years old they die accursed!" Such events often occur, and under the divine administration! They are permitted of him who cannot mistake! In a sense, they are the Lord's doings, and marvelous in our eyes! "The Lord reigneth, let the earth, rejoice--Clouds and darkness are round about him: Righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne. Wait on the Lord; Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart; wait, I say, on the Lord." * * * * * * SERMON XXVI. Departed Saints Fellowservants with those yet on Earth. Revelation xxii. 9. "I am thy fellowservant, and of thy brethren the prophets." The revelation made to St. John in the isle of Patmos, was a comfort to the suffering apostle, and a blessing to the church. "Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the word, of this prophecy." The beginning indeed was dark; the prophetic sketch, was for sometime, gloomy: It unfolded a strange scene of declensions and abominations, which were to disgrace the church of Christ and mar its beauty; and dismal series of woes on woes, for many ages. The church then so pure, was to be corrupted, to become "the mother of harlots and abominations of the earth, and to make herself drunk with the blood of the saints and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus!" When the apostle "saw, he wondered with great admiration." Had the vision closed with similar discoveries, no joy would have been occasioned by them; but grief ineffable. The apostle might have sunk under them. But they finally appeared diverse, and adapted to comfort him, and fill his heart with joy. He saw the cause of Christ triumphant--true religion to have become universal, and heavenly glory the reward of the faithful! When the veil which had been spread over these things was drawn aside, and they broke out to the view of this man of God, he seems to have been enraptured and lost in ecstacy. He prostrated himself in adoration of the celestial messenger: But was forbidden by the angel --"See, thou do it not; I am thy fellow servant, and of thy brethren that have the testimony of Jesus.--Worship God." This happened at the beginning of the joyful part of the vision, when the triumphs of Christianity were first disclosed. * * Revelation xix. 10. We are under no temptation to give undue honors to bearers of evil tidings; But even "the feet of those who bring good tidings are beautiful." The angel having thus restrained the apostle from paying him divine homage, proceeded to finish the sketch which he had begun of the glory which remains for the people of God. When it was nearly completed, the still imbodied saint, again forgot himself, and overcome by a sight too strong and glorious for frail humanity fell down in humble adoration of the heavenly minister! Mad with joy he appears to have been bewildered, and in a momentary delirium; but was again prevented by the angel; and the same reason assigned as before--_I am thy fellowservant, and of thy brethren the prophets_. This declaration is remarkable. How are we to understand it? It should seem that this messenger from above was originally one of our race. _I am thy fellowservant_.-- We are inclined to believe that he had once inhabited a human body, and had his residence on earth--that this was one of the old prophets, who having been released from the work to which he had been first called, was now serving God under another form, in a more dignified station and with greater powers than he had possessed while yet on probation. We may mistake the Scripture but have been induced to believe that when the saints drop these bodies, and are joined "to the spirits of the just made perfect," they become angels, and are afterwards employed in the service of God, as his messengers and agents, whom he "sends forth to minister to the heirs of salvation," and to transact business for which he hath fitted them, and in which he is pleased to employ them. Some reasons for this belief are adduced in the following discourse. When a child of God is released from the body, he is freed from the remains of depravity, and form this native bias to evil, and according to his nature, made perfect in holiness. His reason is retained; yea, his rational capacity is enlarged; and those who are associated with the blessed inhabitants of the upper world, doubtless enjoy better means of information than are to be found on earth. Some indeed, have fancied, that soul and body sleep together from the epoch of death till the resurrection. That during that term, the soul is chained down in a state of insensibility! That the happiness of the saints, during the intermediate term, is no other than a sleep without dreams--a temporary nonexistence! Strange! The thoughts of death would make the good man tremble, did he conceive such to be its nature. Here he is compassed with infirmity, and groans, being burdened. But such an existence, which capacitates him to do somewhat to honor God, and benefit man, is preferable to a suspension of existence. Suspension of existence! What is a suspension of existence, but a temporary annihilation!--A complete solecism! From such a state there could be no resurrection. There could be only another creation, which must constitute not the same, but another creature. The idea of a suspension of existence, is scarcely supportable; and the reality of it contradicted by every part of revelation. Death is represented in the Scriptures, as a separation of soul and body; not as their sleeping together. "Thou changest his countenance, _sendeth him away_;" is a description of death drawn by Job--which answers to that given of Rachel's-- "_As her soul was departing_, for she died." And a resurrection is represented as a return of the soul to the body from which it had been seperated: As of the widow's son whom Elijah raised from the dead --"_And the soul of the child came into him again_, and he revived." The language of the New Testament is the same. "This day thou shalt be fellow sufferer on the cross, whose body was the same day committed to the grave." St. Paul "had a desire _to depart_ and to be with Christ," which he opposed to _abiding in the flesh_. If soul and body sleep together in the grave, he would have been no sooner with Christ. than though he had lived here till the resurrection. When St. John was indulged a sight of heaven, he saw the souls of the martyrs who had been slain before that period, and heard them crying for vengeance on the murderers who were yet living on earth. * * Revelation vi. 9, 10. The Scriptures are so explicit respecting the state of the dead, that a suspicion that they remain senseless while their bodies moulder in the dust, appears strange. The righteous dead certainly rejoice in God's presence and are associated with fellow saints. The Lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, feed them, and leads them "to fountains of living waters; and God wipes away all tears from their eyes." Neither do they remain inactive--"They serve God day and night --in his temple," some may say. God's temple may here mean the universe, that vast temple which he hath built in every part of which his saints may serve him. * * Revelation xxi. 22. Surely the glorified spirit is not confined to a single apartment in the house of God, and not suffered to go abroad, and see his glory, and the exercise of his perfections in the works of creation and providence! Were such his situation, it would differ little from that of the delinquent who is confined to his cell, or prison. Such cannot be the state of a glorified soul--of a soul released from a body, which while on trial, served as a clog to restrain the servant, and prevent him from quitting the station, in which he had been placed, or leaving the work assigned him. It cannot be the state of one sanctified throughout; of one raised above temptation, either to stray into devious paths, or be slothful in the service of his God. Much of our felicity here ariseth from a contemplation of the works of creation and providence. In these we see divine wisdom and goodness; learn to know God; to fear and love him. The good man carries this disposition with him when he exchangeth worlds; his desire of knowledge, and especially the knowledge of God, and the works and ways of God. And is there not reason to believe that glorified saints have power and liberty to range among the works of the all perfect Sovereign; trace the evidences of the divine perfections, and witness their effects, and that this is one source of their happiness? A relish for knowledge is a quality of the mind, natural to it, and inseparable from it. We observe it in children, who at an early period discover a desire of information, and perpetually seek it by questioning those more advanced. The same disposition is resident in adults, and productive of the attainments in science which both delight the mind and dignify the man. In heaven, the glorified spirit, hath doubtless advantages for attaining the knowledge of God and divine things, and opportunity to satisfy his desire after it, if it can be satisfied; for it is itself a happiness. It gives a zest to information, and will probably continue, and be an endless source of enjoyment. The creature may never know so much of god as to desire no farther knowledge of him; or so much of the works and ways of god, as to with no increase of that knowledge. Acquisitions in knowledge and enjoyment may progress together in the world of spirits. And who can fix their limits? They may be as boundless as eternity! Turn now your thoughts on Sir Isaac Newton that renowned philosopher and Christian. Was his enlarged and inquisitive mind satisfied at death? Did not he carry with him a desire to visit every planet, not only of our own but of other systems, and pry into the _arcana_ of nature to be found in them all? If enabled and permitted, he may still be ranging among the works of God, to learn yet more of his wisdom, power and goodness, in his works and ways, which are unsearchable, and past the comprehension of created beings! Probably other glorified Spirits have a Share; it, may be a large share of the same temper. And if they are capable of bearing the message of their divine Sovereign, or doing aught for his honor, it must be a pleasure to glorified spirits to be so employed. Here the good man delights to serve the Lord. Will this cease to be his disposition when the remains of depravity shall be done away? Will not this disposition be increased and strengthened? Or is there reason to think that those will have no power to serve God, who are freed from sluggish bodies? Of certain glorified spirits it was declared to the apostle, as we have seen, that they "serve God day and night"--They have no need of rest--they never grow weary. How they serve God without the use of bodily organs, is to us unknown. But it doth not follow that they are incapable of it. God can give them power, and teach them to accomplish all his pleasure. That departed saints have sometimes been sent down to our world, to make known God's will, and deliver his messages, we believe to be taught in the scriptures--_I am thy fellow servant and of thy brethren the prophets_. Who not of our race could have made such a declaration? _A fellowservant_, is a servant of the same species, or rank. Our fellows are our equals; those of the same class in creation. Brutes are creatures; but we do not consider them as _fellow creatures_. We might, however, with as much propriety as the angel could call himself John's _fellowservant_, had he belonged to another species, or class or servants. The term _prophet_, carries, in our apprehension, the same thing in it --speaks the heavenly messenger to have been one of our race. By prophets, we understand inspired men. We believe this to be every where its meaning in the scriptures. And the term _brethren--"of thy brethren the prophets_", confirms our sense of the text--_I am thy fellowservant, and of thy brethren the prophets_. Strange language, if this was one of the angels who kept their first estate; one who never dwelt in flesh, nor inhabited a human body! But if this was one of the old prophets, Samuel, Nathan, Daniel, or any other of those who had tabernacled in flesh, and been sent to warn his brethren, and foretell things to come, the language is easy and natural. * * * * * * * _Sundulos sou gar eimi, xai ton adelphon sou ton prophaton_. Doct. Doddridge in his notes on this passage observes, that it may be rendered _I am thy fellow servant and the fellow servant of thy brethren the prophets_. But the translation in the Bible is perfectly literal. The sentence is elliptical. The elipsis may as well be filled by _tis_, as by _sundoulos_. If filled by the former, it reads thus, _I am a fellow servant, and one of the brethren the prophets_. This, for the reasons given above, we conceive to be the sense of the passage. The learned reader wilt judge for himself. * * * * * If we search the scriptures, we shall see that the saints whose bodies were in the grave, have been sometimes thus used of God. When Saul went to consult the powers of darkness, because the Lord did not answer him in the time of his distress, Samuel, who had died some time before, was sent of God to reprove that rebellious prince, and denounce his doom. Some indeed suppose that the apparition was not Samuel, but an infernal! But the sacred historian represents it as being Samuel, and why should we reject his testimony? The sorceress had not power by her charms, to call back the prophet from the world of spirits. But God had power to send him on his business; to enable him to make himself visible, and foretel the evils which then hung over Saul and Israel: And from several considerations we think it evident that he did do it. The woman appears to have been surprized when she saw Samuel. To her, he was an unexpected visitor. By his means she found out Saul, whom before she did not know in his disguise.--Apostate spirits if they ever gave responses to those who consulted them, commonly flattered them in their crimes, or gave ambiguous answers to their inquiries; but not so the ghost which appeared on this occasion. Most pointedly did it reprove the abandoned prince, who was adding iniquity to transgression, and hardening himself in the time of trouble! And most expressly did it foretel the evils which were coming on the offending inquirer, his family and people! Could an apostate spirit have done these things? Or would he if he could? God hath sometimes used wicked men to foretel future events, and compelled them to denounce his judgments; but have we any account of his making this use of fallen angels? Of his making known his purposes to them, and enabling them to give the genuine proof of true prophets? It is further observable, that part of the message related to taking the kingdom from Saul, and giving it to David--"The Lord hath done to him as he spake by me," is his language. God had foretold this by Samuel; not by Satan, or a messenger of Satan. There is every reason to believe that Samuel really appeared on this occasion--that God sent him to deliver the sad message to the impious rebel, who instead of humbling himself in the time of his trouble, sinned yet more against the Lord. If we attribute these divine communications to infernal agency, why not others? If once we turn aside from the literal sense of scripture, where shall we stop? But should we doubt whether in this instance, a departed saint was sent down to visit earth, and transact the business of HIM who is Lord of all, other instances may certainly be adduced --if not in the Old Testament, yet beyond a doubt in the New. But this will be the subject of another discourse. * * * * * * SERMON XXVII. Departed Saints Fellow servants with those yet on Earth. REVELATION xxii. "I am thy fellowservant, and of thy brethren the prophets." That the saints do not remain insensible, while their bodies are in the dull, but become angels, * see and serve God and bear his messages, and minister to the heirs of salvation, hath been argued from several considerations, in the preceding discourse; but we chiefly depend on revelation. The text and several other scriptures, we conceive to be our purpose, and sufficient to establish our theory, and that the same is illustrated and confirmed by sacred history, both of the Old and New Testament. One instance of a departed saint, sent as a messenger from heaven to earth, hath been adduced from the Old Testament: We now advert to the New. * The term angel signifies a messenger. If glorified saints are used to carry God's messages, or sent to do his business, they are made angels, in the proper sense of the word. Such appear to have been the angelic band, who united in praising God, when the Lamb prevailed to open the book of his decrees and reveal them to the apostle--"And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy--for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us unto our God, kings and priests: _And we shall reign on the earth_." * Surely these must have been of our race. * REVELATION v. 9, 10. Here our proof in explicit. We can conceive of no evasion. Two of our race _who had long before been removed from earth to heaven_, were certainly sent to visit the Savior, just before this sufferings --Moses and Elias, who attended him on the mount, whither he retired with three of his disciples, and conversed with him in their presence. St. Luke hath described their appearance, and told the subject of their conversation--"Who appeared, in glory and spake of his decease, which he should accomplish at Jerusalem." * * Luke ix. 29. Moses had then been dead more than fourteen centuries. Elias had not tasted death, but he had been changed. That change had passed upon him which will pass on the saints who shall be alive at Christ's coming. The change must have been great, or he could not have ascended to heaven in a chariot of fire, or lived above the region of air which surrounds this globe. These two saints, seem, on this occasion, to have been assimilated to each other--"They both appeared in glory"--were company for each other, and sent together to testify for Christ, before chosen witnesses. Our Savior's resurrection was also attended by witnesses who had been for time in the world of spirits--"And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose, and came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many." * * Matthew xxvii. 52, 53. But it is only departed saints who are employed to bear God's messages. There is no intimation in scripture, that those who die in their sins, are afterwards sent, or suffered to go abroad. There is reason to believe, that as the saints are made perfect at death, so all that bears an affinity to goodness, ceases at that period, in the unrenewed, and that they put on the complete image of him who is termed their father. If this is the case, they would spread mischief and misery, were they permitted access to those who remain in the body, and liable to temptation. However this might be, we are assured that they are confined in the infernal prison, and will continue prisoners till the great day. This is intimated by our Savior, when he warns the sinner to "agree with his adversary quickly, while in the way with him--lest he should be cast into prison"--because should this happen there will be no release "till he shall pay the utmost farthing." This speaks the state of impenitents, to be from the time of their death, that of prisoners, who can neither break their prison, or obtain, so much as a temporary release, till they shall have suffered all their demerits. The same is intimated in the parable of the rich man Lazarus. The rich sinner is represented as passing, at death, into a place of torment, and confinement, and as despairing of even a momentary enlargement. Other wise he would not have requested that Lazarus might be sent to warn his brethren who were then living on earth, but rather that he might have gone himself. Him they would have known; and he could have given them a feeling description of the miseries which living in pleasure, regardless of the one thing needful, will draw after it. Many advantages might have been expected from this personal appearance to his brethren, but he preferred no such petition. His prayer that Lazarus might be sent, was probably intended to intimate that departed spirits remember their former state on earth, and the relatives and acquaintance whom they leave upon it; that they retain a concern for them; that they know that good spirits are used of God to transact matters relative to their spiritual concerns, and that those who die in their sins are kept in confinement, and not permitted to go forth; no, not to warn fellow sinners, whom they have left behind them. This agrees with what is said by St. Peter, respecting the antediluvians. He speaks of those as being "spirits in prison" in the apostolic age, "who were disobedient, when the long suffering of God waited with them, in the days of Noah." It farther appears that their imprisonment is a state of darkness. "Cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer darkness? to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever." This darkness is probably a contrast to the light enjoyed by glorified saints. They are doubtless let into the purposes of heaven--to them the mystery of divine providence is opened. They see and admire the wisdom and goodness of God, in those dispensations, which while here, filled them with wonder. But it seems that the wicked are not let into these things, but driven away in darkness, and left enveloped in it--"None of the wicked shall understand, but the wise shall understand." This may serve to explain a passage in Job, which might seem opposed to our construction of the text--"His sons come to honor and he knoweth it not; and they are brought low, but he perceiveth it not of them." * If we understand this of the wicked, it will harmonize with the other scriptures which have been adduced. Though some understand the words of Job, as descriptive of a man's state at the approach of death, at which period he is often lost and bewildered, and consequently unaffected with, any thing which may happen to his dearest connexions, for whom, in health, and while possessed of reason, he felt greatly interested. This construction is favored by the words which follow, in which he is represented as still pained in body, as well as mind--"But his flesh upon him shall have pain, and his soul within him shall mourn." + * Job xiv. 21. + Vid. Henry in locum. If we do not mistake the scriptures, our pious departed friends may sometimes attend us, and witness the manner in which we act our parts. Natural relations terminate with life; but we do not believe that the friendships here contracted cease at death; that the remembrance of the kind offices done to a good man here is then obliterated; that those who had been helpers of one another in this life are forever lost to each other when they cease to be together here; or that the endearments of friendship and reciprocal affection are then extinguished to revive not more. Departed spirits must retain a remembrance of what they did here, and of those who acted with them. They cannot otherwise give account of themselves; or witness the divine justice and impartiality relative to matters which had been common to themselves and others. But these will be made manifest. All in heaven and on earth will see and confess the perfect rectitude of the divine administration. Some suppose that the knowledge of things done on earth, and regard for mortals would render departed saints unhappy; that therefore they are incredible. But is not God grieved at the obstinacy of sinners? "When God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth--it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart." * Was he then unhappy? Departed saints may have similar sensations, whatever may be implied in them. The same objection may be made to the divine knowledge of mankind, as to that of the saints--We do not take it on us to explain either. The same may also be objected to supposing that the saints will be made acquainted with the decisions of the Judge at the great day--that they will then see any who were dear to them here, sent away with the workers of iniquity. * Genesis vi. 5. If the manifest rectitude, and moral necessity of the divine decisions, will then satisfy the righteous, and their greater love to God reconcile them to the execution of his judgments on all the impenitent, why not as soon as they shall have put off the remains of depravity, and become "the spirits of the just made perfect?" THOSE in glory are doubtless acquainted with the moral state of the world --"There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth." * * Luke xv. 7-10 That the powers of light and darkness take part in the concerns of mankind, and interest themselves in their affairs, and that they conflict with each other on their account, we are taught in revelation. * Our departed friends who have known and loved us here, may be among the invisible witnesses of our conduct, and among our invisible helpers. They may rejoice, if we act well our parts, or weep if we are numbered among sinners, or careless neglecters of the grace of life. * Daniel x. 13. Jude 9 Perhaps the pious parent who hath died in the Lord, may regard the little orphan which he hath left behind. Experienced in the troubles and difficulties, snares and temptations of this life, he may watch over it, and in ways to us unknown "do it good and not evil all the days of its life." Little ones are not destitute of invisible keepers --"_Their angels_ do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven." * * Matthew xviii. 10. Some are early called out of life; make but a transient visit to the scene of sorrow, and just taste the bitter cup of affliction. But though short their stay, they may yet begin to form some dear connexions--connexions which might perhaps have been ensnaring; for more set bad, than good examples before the little strangers committed to their care. These, taken from the evils to come, may be friends to those who had appear to befriend their helpless state in this strange land--may watch for their good, and rejoice if they see them minding the things which belong to their peace, and by a wise improvement of more talents than had been committed to themselves, preparing for greater joys and honors in the kingdom of God. Those who had sustained a still nearer relation--who had been "one flesh" may bear like regard to those "with whom they had taken sweet counsel and walked to the house of God in company"--and may be the first to welcome their arrival at the world of joy. The Romish church have abused the doctrine which we conceive to be contained in the text, by decreeing adoration to departed saints. Others have gone into the opposite extreme, denying that they know ought of terrestrial matters, or have any concern in them. Adoration belongs exclusively to God. It belongs neither to glorified saints, nor to angels of light, though the latter "are all sent forth to minister to the heirs of salvation." * "Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve." * Hebrews i. 14. The righteous are not suffered to continue here by reason of death. Their removal is one of our severest trials. Our subject ministers support and comfort under it. When we reflect upon it, we seem to hear them calling to us from behind the scene, with "Weep not for us--we are not dead. Our bodies sleep, but our spirits wake"--Death is not the period of our existence. It is only our removal--our birth day into the world of glory.--We are joined "to the spirits of the just made perfect"--enjoy the society and that of the angels of God--behold the face of our heavenly Father, and of the divine Redeemer. We rejoice to see you "followers of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises"--are ready to help you in your work, and to shout God's praises, and unite in songs of triumph, should you come off conquerors, and rise from your humble state of sorrows, sufferings and temptations, to be our companions in glory. These are consoling and animating views. They tend to excite a divine ambition in working out our salvation. We are yet doomed "to bear the heat and burden day." But we are not alone--not unobserved. God, angels, and the good, who were lately "our companions in tribulation," witness the part we act. We would not dishonor ourselves in their view, and sink ourselves in their estimation. If they are ready to help our infirmity, we would not render their heavenly aid of no avail, or cut ourselves off from enjoying their society. Consider some dear departed child of God thus interested in your concerns, and you will find it a spur to duty, and an incentive to labor and not faint in the work assigned you, preparatory to your joining the church of the first born above. Think now that the godly ones who loved you here, and labored to animate you in the service of God--or those who lately looked to you for counsel and guidance, having made their way to glory, are waiting your arrival and longing to hail your entrance into the kingdom, and by all the strength of your love to them, now freed from the imperfections of their earthly residence, and made glorious and heavenly, you will find yourself drawn on toward that state of blessedness, in which you hope again to rejoice with those whose distresses you witnessed here--yea whose dying agonies, may have chilled your frame and filled you with anguish unutterable! To meet them again, and find yourself and them, forever removed from the fear of evil, either natural or moral--forever secure the divine friendship--forever happy and glorious in the enjoyment of God, "the former things being all passed away, and all tears forever wiped from your eyes!" There to recount with those blessed spirits, the travels and trials of this life, and look back, perhaps, on many hairbreadth escapes from eternal death! There, to dwell on the wonders of divine love and mercy exercised towards you, and often in things which you once thought to be against you! Who would not willingly suffer many deaths to enjoy these things? Such considerations are animating in duty, and supporting in times of trial. If realized, we shall adopt the language of the suffering apostle--"None of these things move me, neither do I count my life dear to myself, that I may finish my course with joy"--and share such blessed society--such inconceivable felicity and glory in my Father's house above, in which are many mansions! * * * * * * SERMON XXVIII. The Danger of Deviating from Divine Institutions. Colossians ii, 8. "Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ." St. Paul was the apostle of the Gentiles. The care of the churches gathered among them devolved particularly on him. At the writing of this epistle he had no personal acquaintance with the church to which it is addressed.* Epaphras, a bishop of the Colossians, then his fellow prisoner at Rome, had made him acquainted with their state, and the danger they were in from false teachers, who, during the absence of their minister, labored to turn them from the duplicity of the gospel; and this letter was written, through divine influence, to guard them against those deceivers, and persuade them to abide in Christ. * Verse 1. To this end he counselled them to keep to the divine directions, carefully avoiding every alteration, or addition, which might be urged upon them by uninspired men, though they might come with a shew of wisdom and humility, and profession of regard to the honor of God and happiness. Many of the most successful attacks on God's earthly kingdom have been made in this way. Open rebellion against God, is found chiefly on those who have no faith in him; who are therefore devoid of his fear. Others are tempted mostly to other sins, and induced to make indirect opposition to the divine government, from them, the tempter hides the truth, and leads them into error, and thus causes them to pull down the cause which they aim to build up, and fight against God with a view to serve him. So much of God appears in his works, that comparatively few can be made to doubt his existence, or his providential government. Hence few are prevailed with to renounce his fear and rise directly against him; but many are deceived, and consequently engaged to act with his enemies. Here a common source of seduction hath been suggesting improvements on divine institutions--that _this_ and _that_, which God hath not ordered, would help his cause and promote his interest. Sometimes the improvements are attempted under pretence of divine order, and urged with his authority; but this veil is not always spread over endeavors to change his institutes. They are often urged as means adapted to help his cause, without pretence to divine order requiring the use of them; Much, it is alleged, is left to human discretion. This taken for granted, the rest is easy. It is only to say _these measures_ are wise and good, calculated to help on the cause of God, and whoever denies it, is considered as fighting against God. Thus men are led away from the divine institutions to those of human invention. Human wisdom is exalted above divine; and all with a view to glorify God! Thus was the tempter laboring, through the instrumentality of his agents, to seduce the Colossians, when this epistle was written, and it is chiefly intended to counteract their influence, and prevent that church from being moved away from the hope of the gospel, which they had received. In discussing the subject, We shall first _glance at the measures used by those deceivers_--then consider _the success which hath attended this mode of fighting against God, and seducing mankind, adding a few observations on the influence of tradition and the rudiments and customs of the world_. The Colossian seducers appear to have been of two kinds--Jewish and Gentile. The former seem not to have differed from those at Rome, Corinth, Galatia, and those in Judea. They were Jewish Christians, who were so attached to the Mosaic ritual, that they wished to continue it, and graft Christianity upon it, rendering the religion of Christ only an appendage to that of Moses. They insisted that the ceremonial law remained in force--insisted especially on the observance of circumcision; and probably on the traditions so highly valued by the Pharisees. But the apostle assured this Gentile Church, that they were complete "in Christ", and needed nothing of this kind to recommend them to God, or to secure his favor--that "Christ had blotted out the hand writing of ordinances, and taken it away, nailing it to his cross"--that the ceremonial law, being only "a shadow of good things to come," was fulfilled in Christ, and no longer obligatory; and warned them to stand fast in their Christian liberty, and suffer no man to judge them respecting such things, or impose such burdens upon them. The Gentile seducers were converts from Paganism, and no less eager to introduce the tenets and rites of their superstition. One of the errors, which, from the particular mention made of it, they seem to have urged, was the worshipping of angels, "Let no man beguile you of your reward, in a voluntary humility and worshipping of angels, intruding into those things which he hath not seen, vainly puffed up by his fleshly mind." * * Verse 18. Mankind seem, at a pretty early period, generally to have given into the idea of so vast a distance between God and man, that man is unworthy to come into his presence, and can approach him acceptably only through a mediator. But just views of a mediator were never communicated to the scattered branches of our race, or soon lost from among them. Most of the heathens offered religious homage to departed heroes; or to those who had been revered while inhabitants of earth. To them were their prayers addressed, that they might bear them to the God of nature, and by their influence render him propitious. Here was the appearance of humility--So sensible of their unworthiness that they dared not approach God in their own names, or present their own petitions--others who had ceased to sin, and been admitted to the divine presence, must intercede for them. But this was "a voluntary humility"--not ordered of God--a mere matter of human invention. A mediator is indeed necessary for man since the fall; but man is not left to choose his mediator. One every way suitable is provided, through whom we may have access to God: "There is one God, and one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus." The apostle further observes, that those who directed them to worship angels, arrogated a knowledge of matters not revealed. God hath given no intimation of such use to be made of angels, but ordered man to approach him in the name of Christ. Those who go to God in other ways, or depending on other intercessors, are said "not to hold the head." * "The head of every man is Christ." + Such people will lose their reward. "Let no man beguile you of your reward, in a voluntary humility and worshipping of angels"--The rewards of grace are promised to obedience but not to "willful worship, or voluntary humility." The utmost these can hope is forgiveness. *Verse 9. + 1 Corinthians xi. 3. When Paul assured the Colossians that they were "complete in Christ," he had reference to the errors of all the deceivers who were laboring to seduce them. Gentile philosophy is as useless to the Christian, as Jewish rites. Christ hath the fulness of the Godhead dwelling in him. We' have only to rely on divine mercy, through faith, in him, and we shall not be ashamed. Such we conceive to be the sum of the instructions and warnings here given to the Colossians. They were only to keep to the divine directions, and seek salvation agreeably thereto, regardless of _the traditions of men and rudiments of the world_. All error is deviation from divine rule. To this men are tempted with a view to honor God. This is a fruitful source of error. And when error is once generated, it is often diffused and perpetuated by tradition, custom, and _the rudiments of the world_. We proceed to consider _the success which hath attended this mode of fighting against God--that is, suggesting improvements on divine institutions and appointments_. The first attempt to seduce our race seems to have been of this kind. "The woman being deceived was in the transgression," Made upright, she could not have been persuaded to disobey God, unless she was led to believe that she might, some how, honor God in consequence of that disobedience. But how?--"In the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened; and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil"--Then she could honor God better than while destitute of knowledge which would liken her to superior intelligences. "And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof and did eat." Thus some suppose the tempter to have prevailed against her. It may be thought strange that she should expect good to rise out of evil. Her descendants have often entertained such expectations; but they are depraved, and their minds are darkened. Whether this was the sophism by which Satan's victory was obtained, we presume not to determine. It is however certain that he prevailed by deception; by persuading our common mother that advantage would accrue from ceasing to follow the divine directions. Cain, her eldest son, fell into a sin of the same kind; was induced to change divine institutions. "Cain brought the fruit of the ground an offering unto the Lord," instead of the firstlings of the flock. The fruit of the ground did not typify the sacrifice of Christ, and had not been ordered of God. It was a mode of honoring him of Cain's devising. He thought to improve on divine appointments; or dared to change them to suit his circumstances. "Cain was a tiller of the ground." The fruits of the ground were the product of his own labors --"Of such as he had, he would bring his offering. What advantage would accrue from changing with his brother to procure what God had required? God needed nothing and could receive nothing from his creatures." Abel believed himself under obligation to conform to the divine order, and in that way to seek the divine favor. Cain had not this faith. He was confident that another way would do as well; and followed the dictates of his own fancied wisdom. * Therefore their different reception. Had Cain been equally obedient with Abel no difference would have been made. Cain is appealed to, to judge of this matter for himself--"If thou dost well, shalt thou not be accepted?" TO do well, is to regulate principle and practice by the divine order; in both these Cain was deficient. They are commonly united. Error in principle occasions error in practice. * These are not mere conjectures--they are intimated by St. Jude, when he declares the schismatics of his day "have gone in the way of Cain and Core." Core, or Korah, certainly attempted to change a divine order by which the functions of the priesthood were appropriated to the family of Aaron. And the schismatics, who were contemporary with the apostles, set themselves up for teachers in the church without a regular, or supernal call to the ministry. These went in the way of Cain. His sin must therefore have been a departure from divine institutions. Not many ages after the deluge idolatry was introduced into the world, and corrupted and spoiled the worship of God. This seems to have been, at first, a design to improve on the homage which was paid to the true God. Adoration offered to other than God, is idolatry. This is of two kinds--that offered to angels, and departed spirits, and that offered to the heavenly bodies and to images. The former is said to have been originally designed to engage those to whom it was addressed to act the part of mediators with God. The heavenly bodies were adored as the supposed residences of Deity. Image worship was intended to help devotion. It was thought that visible representations would serve to impress a reverence for the objects of worship on the mind, and solemnize the heart. With this view, images and paintings were introduced into temples and places of worship. They appeared to have effect. The worshippers seemed more devout. A happy discovery, which had not occurred to Omniscience! To increase the good effects, further improvements were suggested. Images were made of the precious metals, and enriched with gems and costly attire, and art was exhausted to embellish them. They were also consecrated with magnificent and solemn rites. After consecration, the celestials to whom they dedicated, were supposed to descend and dwell in them, and thus to be present with their worshippers, to hear their prayers, witness their gratitude, and smell a sweet savor in their sacrifices. And as temples were built, and images consecrated chiefly to inferior deities, who were worshipped as mediators, the homage which was paid to them was suited to the conceptions which the worshippers entertained of the objects of their worship; and being mostly taken from among men, the offerings were adapted to the characters which they had respectively sustained while resident in the body. Hence the homage paid to Baal, Moloch, Mars, Bacchus, Venus and others. Thus every abomination was sanctioned, and made an object of religion! The use of images was common among the Easterns at an early period, and communicated to the Hebrews, who were conversant with them, before their settlement in Canaan. In Egypt, or certainly in the wilderness it was found among them. They were particularly guilty of this sin while Moses was on the mount with God. And the use which they then made of images was the same which hath been mentioned. As soon as the golden calf was finished, Aaron, who had entered into their views, made proclamation--"Tomorrow is the feast of the Lord--[of Jehovah."] Moses, who had greatly helped them in the worship and service of God, was gone, and the idol was intended to supply his place; to help their devotion, and excite them to honor the true God! "Up make us Gods-- for this Moses--we wot not what is become of him." The idolatrous worship of the Romanists in later ages is of the same kind. Their churches abound with rich images, and are adorned with exquisite paintings; the likeness of Christ agonising on the cross, and other affecting representations, designed to impress religious subjection the heart and excite devotion. Such is the use which they profess to make of them. And they seem not devoid of effect. Protestants who have attended their worship, have observed greater appearances of fervor, and greater moving of the passions, than are usual in the religious assembles of other denominations of Christians. And their adoration of angels and departed saints, is only as of mediators and intercessors, who may present their prayers, and obtain favor for them--the very idolatry of paganism. In these things there is a shew of wisdom and humility--wisdom to devise means to impress a sense of religion, and humility to draw nigh to God by the intervention of those more worthy than themselves; and the means seem not destitute of influence; they produce warm zeal, and all the fervor of devotion; yea, all those feelings and emotions which are thought by some to constitute the offence of religion. And why is not all this right? Why are not these ways of honoring God and exciting devotion commendable, when they render the worshipper thus fervent in spirit to serve the Lord? The reason is obvious--they are not required--yea, they are forbidden of the divine Sovereign. "Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him _only_ shalt thou serve. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or that is in the waters under the earth--I the Lord thy God am a jealous God."-- Pretending to honor God by direct disobedience is peculiarly affrontive. Such worshippers "provoke him to his face. Their offerings his soul hateth. They are a smoke in his nose, and a fire that burneth all the day." Every thing of this nature, whatever may be its design, is rebellion against God. Against no other sin hath he manifested greater indignation. No instance can be adduced of such homage being accepted, or of good resulting from such worship. Yea, it hath commonly been followed with the severest marks of the divine resentment. Witness the evils which came upon Israel when they made the golden calf, to help their devotions. Witness those which fell on the family and kingdom of Jeroboam, when he forsook the appointed worship of God, and the ministry of the Levites whom God had appointed to wait at the altar. Jeroboam did not introduce the worship of Baal, or the other heathen gods. This was done afterwards by the influence of Jezebel. He only appointed other places of worship, beside that which God had chosen, and consecrated others to minister who had not the attachments of the Levites to the house of David and city of Zion, and made images to help the devotion of his people; and lo! his family perish; a brand of infamy is set on his name; and because his people walk in his ways, they are finally "broken and cease to be a people!" The divine resentment of attempts to change the ordinances of God, or make innovations in his worship even where they seem _to have been done out of concern for his honor_, is left on record in his word. Saul once offered sacrifice. The necessity of his affairs seemed to require it. He professed to have done it with reluctance, but to have thought it his duty--"I said the Philistines will come down upon me, and I have not made supplication unto the Lord: I forced myself therefore, and offered a burnt offering." But Saul was not of the family of Aaron, to whom the right of sacrificing solely appertained by divine appointment. Hence instead of conciliating the divine favor, his officious zeal offended heaven--for that act of disobedience he was threatened with deposition; and a repetition of attempting to improve on divine orders, in sparing the best cattle of Amelek to sacrifice unto the Lord, confirmed the sentence, * placed another on the throne, and led to the ruin of the rebellious prince. Uzzah only put forth his hand to steady the trembling ark, and was struck dead for his rashness, beside the ark of God. + * 1 Samuel xiii. 1-14, xv. 15-13. + 2 Samuel vi. 6, 7. Some spoiled through philosophy and vain deceit, have made changes in the divine institutions, and attempted improvements upon them, since the commencement of the gospel day. This hath been a leading trait of character in the chiefs of the Romish church. Many of the heads of that communion have signalized themselves in this way. And some of their alterations have operated to impress what was thought to be religion, as hath been observed. Another way in which they have manifested the same disposition hath been the multiplying of holy days. Under various pretences, nearly half the days in the year have been consecrated to religion, by order of those gods on earth. Some real, and many fictitious saints, have days consecrated to their memory. Here is a great shew of wisdom, and zeal for God, and his cause in the world; calling men so often from their temporal concerns to attend to the duties of religion! Who can do other than approve it? Doubtless many have been deceived by appearances, and considered those as wise and good who have done these things. But this is far from being their character. These have been the doings of "Antichrist, the Man of sin --the Son of perdition! Because of these things cometh the wrath of God, on the children of disobedience!" All these specious measures are no better than Saul's sacrificing, Uzzah's steadying the ark, and the use of images in divine worship! They are opposition to the orders of the Most High, and rebellion against him. "Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy work, but the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God; in it thou shalt not do any work" --Whoever takes it on himself to alter this appointment, "thinks to change times and laws;" which was foretold of him who should "speak great words against the Most High." * * Daniel vii. 25. The Lord's day, is the only day which God hath sanctified under the gospel dispensation. This infinite wisdom judged sufficient. Had more been requisite, more would have been consecrated by divine order. But not a hint of any other holy day is to be found in the New Testament. + * * * * * + Neither the day of Christ's birth, death, resurrection or ascension appear to have been regarded as holy time, or any way distinguished from the other days of the year, during the apostolic age. The former of these is not marked in the scriptures. Whether it happened on the twentyfifth of December, or at some other season is uncertain. So are the times in which the apostles and primitive Christians suffered martyrdom. These events are veiled. Divine providence hath hidden them from mankind, probably for the same reason that the body of Moses was hidden from Israel--to prevent its being made an object of idolatrous worship--or for the same which is supposed to have occasioned our Lord's seeming neglect of his mother, and his severer reproof given to Peter, than to any other of his disciples--"Get thee behind me Satan;" namely, that idolatrous honor, which he foresaw would be afterwards paid them by some called Christians. Easter is once mentioned in our translation of the New Testament; but it is not found in the Greek original. The word there used is "Pasxa," the Passover. It is mentioned only to note the time in which Herod intended to have brought forth Peter and delivered him up to his enemies. * * Acts xii. 4. * * * * * Occasional calls there may be to fasting and thanksgiving; and we have scripture warrant for attending them in their seasons. But fixing on certain days of the year, or month, statedly to call men from their secular business to attend to religion, and requiring the consecration of them to religion is adding to the book of God. However well intended, it goes on mistaken principles, and however specious in appearance, is affronting the wisdom and authority of heaven. Most of the errors referred to above, are found among Pagans or Catholics; but is nothing of the same kind chargeable on Protestants? "Are there not with us sins against the Lord our God?" And of the same nature with those we have been contemplating? The knowledge of other's errors in ay be for our warning; but the knowledge of our own is requisite to our reformation. Where then are we directed of God, religiously to observe Christmas, Lent, or Easter? Where to attend the eucharist only twice or thrice a year; and never without one, or more preparatory lectures? * Where to add a third prayer at the administration of that ordinance, when our divine pattern only blessed the bread before he distributed it to his disciples, and gave thanks to the Father, before he divided to them the cup? Where are we directed to attend quarterly seasons of prayer, or to hold weekly conferences for religious purposes? * * * * * * We would not be understood to intend that all religious meeting on week days are unlawful. Special occasions often require them. But the Lord's day is the only time set apart by divine order for the stated attendance. No other hath he consecrated to the business of religion. Neither would we be considered as denying the legality of ever uniting to seek the Lord previous to the celebration of eucharist. We may look to God to assist and accept us in every duty. But if we consider these preparatory exercises as indispensibly requisite, and as constituting a part of the duty, we do it without divine warrant. From an attention to the gospel history, we are induced to believe that the celebration of that ordinance constituted a part of the common duties of every Lord's day, while the apostles ministered in the Christian church; + and that an attendance at the sacramental table, was not distinguished by any special preparatory exercises, diverse from those which anteceded other sanctuary duties. No trace of distinction, in these respects, is to be found in scripture; neither precept nor example can be adduced to support it. Whence then its origin? + Acts xx. 7. Did not it derive from Rome? We know the errors of the Romish church relative to the eucharist; and their tendency to induce a belief that it is more holy, and requires greater sanctity in communicant, than is requisite to an attendance on other ordinances. And the same notion is prevalent and many who have withdrawn from the communion of that church. Many serious people who attend other religious duties with pleasure and advantage, are afraid to obey Christ's dying command! Is not this a relic of popery? When Luther left the papal communion, his reformation, particularly relative to this ordinance, was but partial. Many other protestants retain a tinge of catholic leaven. Is not the distinction respecting the sanctity of divine ordinances from this source? It is not found in the gospel. If the exercises under consideration serve to perpetuate this unscriptural distinction, and to drive men from a plain and important duty, they have a baleful effect. They may be well intended. Doubtless they are so by the generality of those who attend them. It is painful to be obliged to dissent from men whom we receive as brethren, and revere as Christians. But after much deliberation, such are our views of the subject before us; and we offer them to the serious consideration of the followers of Christ. * * * * * But these are well intended. So probably was Uzzah's steadying the ark--But some of these do help on the cause of God, and even more than the stale attendance on Lord's day duties. So thought those who introduced images and paintings into churches. [Some indeed attend those who neglected Lord's day duties.] Have we then discovered defects in the divine plan! And do we feel ourselves capable of making emendations in it!--Of "teaching eternal wisdom how to rule!"--How to effect its purposes of mercy! Beware _lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world and not after Christ_. Vain man would be wise--He naturally thinks himself qualified, even to ameliorate divine institutions. Temptation to this sin coincides with a natural bias in depraved humanity. Many and very mischievous errors have issued from it. Would we escape the snare, we must listen to the apostle speaking in the text. The sum of his advice is to keep to the divine directions, especially in matters of religion. These are contained and plainly taught in the holy Scriptures, which we have in our hands, and of the sense of which we must judge for ourselves; remembering that we are accountable to God the judge of all. As some are _spoiled through philosophy and vain deceit_, others are corrupted by regard to _the tradition of men and rudiments of the world_. This endangered the Colossians, and eventually ruined the church at Rome. The leading errors of paganism were thereby introduced into that Christian church, and rendered it completely antichristian. Errors which seemed to have been destroyed by Christianity, were again revived, and the abominations which they had occasioned, were acted over again with enlargements! The _traditions of men and rudiments of the world_, have still their seducing influence. Most men swim down with the current of the times --adopt the sentiments and conform to the usages of those with whom they live. The popular scheme of religion, they consider as the orthodox scheme, and the religion of the land, the true religion. Therefore is one nation Papists, another Protestants, one Calvinists, another Lutherans. These differences of sentiment do not arise from differences in the mental constitutions of nations, but from the accidental differences of situation. Few have sufficient independence of mind to "judge of themselves what is right." Many who "call Christ Lord, receive for doctrines the commandments of men." Therefore doth religion vary like the fashions of the world. Was the fashion of the world to be the rule of judgment, it might be wise to follow it: But "we must every one give an account of himself to God," and be judged by the rule which be hath given us. It becomes as therefore to "call no man master, because one is our Matter, even Christ." To him we are accountable. At our peril do we neglect obedience to his commands. It concerns us to do all things according to the pattern drawn out before us in the Scriptures. Against the natural bias to affect improvements on divine institutions, and against the prevalence of fashion and contagion of popular opinion, we should be particularly on our guard. "For cursed is every one who confirmeth not all the words of God's law to do them, and all the people shall say, Amen." * * * * * * SERMON XXIX. The Sins of Communities Noted and Punished. Matthew xxiii. 36. "Verily I say unto you, All these things shall come upon this generation." This is predicated of the judgments of God on those who had shed the blood of his saints. The Savior declares that all the righteous blood which had been shed on the earth from that of Abel down to the gospel day, should come on that generation! But is not this unreasonable and contrary to the Scriptures? "Far be wickedness from God and iniquity from the Almighty. For the work of man shall be render unto him, and cause every man to find according to his ways--The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him." Such is the language of revelation. And is not that of reason the same? Will reason justify punishing some men for other men's sins? Those who lived in the days of our Savior had no share in the murder of Abel, or of many others who had died by wicked hands. Those dire events had been accomplished before they had existence. How then could they be answerable for them? To solve this mystery we must consider man in a twofold view--as an individual and as the member of a community. As individuals mankind are solely accountable for the parts which they act personally. In the judgment of the great day, they will only be judged for the use which they shall have made of the talents committed to them here--"We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in the body, according to that he hath done, whether good or bad," But every individual is a member of the human race, and of some community. The race, as such, and the larger branches of it, the nations and empires into which it is divided, are amenable to the Supreme Governor, and liable to punishment, if in their public characters, they rebel against him. And righteous individuals, may be involved in the judgments sent to punish the sins of the community to which they belong. They often are so. Personal rectitude is not designated by an exemption from national calamities. Discriminations will eventually be made in its favor, but not here. Here "all things come alike unto all, and there is one event to the righteous and the wicked." To _shew such to be the general rule of the divine administration in the government of the world, is the design of the following discourse_: Which will explain the text. The world, and the communities into which it is divided, have their probation no less than persons; and there are reasons in which God enters into judgment with them and adjusts retributions to their moral states. In discussing the subject, we shall treat, _first of families, then of larger communities, and of the world_. The first family of our race affords an example to our purpose. Before that family was increased by a single branch issuing from it, it rebelled against God, and God entered into judgment with it, and punished its sin upon it. And the punishments was not restricted to the offending pair, but extended to their race in common with themselves: All were doomed to sufferings and death _in consequence of their sin_. And the sentence hath been executing upon them from that period to the present time. Mankind have gone through life sorrowing; and "death hath reigned even over those, who have not sinned after the similitude of Adam's transgression." Neither have discriminations been made in favor of the saints, but they have been involved in the general calamity, and groaned with the rest of the creation. In some respects this was an exempt case, but in the general diffusion of punishment on the various branches of the family, it accords with the divine administration respecting other families, as appears from sacred history, and from the general history of the human race. Countless examples might be adduced. The murder of Abel was not punished solely on Cain, but also on his family. The ground cursed for _his_ sin, did not yield _to them_ its strength; and they were deprived of those religious instructions which they would no doubt have received, had their father dwelt "in the presence of the Lord," or remained in the family of Adam which contained the church of God. Many of the evils which fell on that sinner, fell also on his children and rested on them till the extinction of his race by the deluge. Similar were the consequences which followed the sins of Ham and Esau: But these more properly rank under the head of communities: But instances of families which have suffered, yea perished, by judgments sent to punish the sins of their heads, often occur. When sundry of the princes of Israel rebelled against God in the wilderness, and attempted a subversion of the government which God had instituted for his people, they did not perish alone, but their families perished with them, though no intimations are given that they were all _partakers_ in their sin--yea, though it is more than intimated that _some of them_ were not capable of partaking in it --"They came out and stood in the doors of their tents, and their wives, and their sons, and their little ones." And as soon as Moses had warned the congregation, and foretold the manner of their death, "the ground clave asunder that was under them, and the earth opened her mouth and swallowed them up, and their houses--and they and all that appertained to them went down alive into the pit, and the earth doted upon them; and they perished." * * Numbers xvi. 27-33. To these might be added the families of Achan, Eli, Saul, Jeroboam, Baasha, Ahab and others. No special personal guilt was found on many members of these families. They died to expiate family guilt. We know of none chargeable on Abimelech, or the other priests who were slain by order of Saul. The sins of Eli and his house, were punished upon them, agreeably to the divine denunciation, first by a nameless prophet; afterwards by Samuel. In one of the sons of Jeroboam, "were found good things toward the Lord God of Israel:" Therefore was he removed by an early death, and the residue of the family were afterwards destroyed with the sword to punish the sin of the father, "who had sinned and made Israel to sin." The divine administration is still the same. In later ages instances might be adduced, especially among princes, of families extirpated (after a term of family probation, which had been abused by wickedness and dishonored by crimes) to punish family guilt. But these might be more liable to be disputed than those recorded in sacred history. Though we think it evident, from common observation, that the curse of heaven usually rests on the descendants of those who cast off the fear of God and harden themselves in sin, and that God visits the iniquities of fathers on their children. We turn our attention next to larger communities. Here we find the divine administration regulated by the same rules. Morals are as necessary to larger communities as to families, or individuals, alike required of them. And they are equally amenable to HIM who is over all, and receive like returns from his impartial hands, according to their works. The chief difference made between communities and persons, respects the time and place, in which they are judged and rewarded: Respecting the former, they take place in this world; respecting the latter, in that to come. Persons will live again after death. Communities, as such, exist only here. Here therefore communities must be remunerated [sic]. They are so. God tries them, and proportions retributions to their moral state. "Righteousness exalteth a nation;" but wickedness degrades and destroys it. The strength and happiness of a people are proportioned to their morals, and increase and diminish with them. Perhaps it will be said, These are the natural conferences of moral good and evil. They are so. And these consequences are the effects of divine order; of the constitution which God hath established. Hence the divine declaration by the prophet: "At what instant I shall speak concerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom, to pluck up, and to pull down, and to destroy; if that nation against whom I have pronounced, turn from their evil, I will repent of the evil that I thought to do unto them. And at what instant I shall speak concerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom, to build and to plant it; if it do evil in my fight, that it obey not my voice, then I will repent of the good wherewith I said, I would benefit them." * * Jeremiah xviii. 7-10. This declaration is verified in the divine administration. God often bears with nations and communities, even to long suffering; but if they continue to revolt, he fails not to punish their sin upon them. When a community hath filled up the measure of its iniquity, judgment is executed upon it; not according to the moral character of those who then compose it, but according to its character considered as a nation which hath been tried God's appointed time. While a community is on trial its conduct is recorded; its acts of disobedience to the divine Sovereign are charged to the community, and when its probation ends, they are brought into the reckoning and punished upon it, unless repentance and reformation intervene and prevent it. That "the sin of the Amorites was not full," was assigned as a reason for deferring the settlement of Abram's race in the land of Canaan. God would not enter into judgment with them, till the measure of their guilt had reached a certain height; but the sins of every generation helped to swell the account, till they were ripe for ruin. The Hebrews were then ordered to destroy them utterly--"every thing that breathed." It was not the sins of only that generation which occasioned this sentence, but the sins of the nations. Many individuals who had no personal guilt were included in the sentence, and destroyed by its execution. The infants perished with the adults. The divine judgments executed on other wicked communities, have been similar. Sodom, and her daughters were each of them a petty kingdom; and when they had severally filled up the measure of their crimes, they all perished together, old and young. If more examples are desired, look to the seed of Jacob. That people had a long probation; but when they had filled up the measure of national guilt, their sins were brought to remembrance and punished upon them. The ten tribes revolted from God, when they left the house of David and set Jeroboam on the throne. For more than two centuries and an half God waited with them, and warned them of the evils which their sins would bring upon them; but they repented not. When their iniquity was full, he gave their enemies power over them; "rooted them up out of the good land which he had given their fathers, and scattered them beyond the river." The kingdom of Judah remained about an hundred and thirty years after "Ephraim was broken that he was not a people." Those, who adhered to the house of David did not revolt so early as those who seceded at the division of the kingdom. Divine worship according to the law of Moses, was kept up among them; and several pious princes reigned over them. But though the progress of impiety was less rapid than in the other kingdom, there was a departure from the living God, and idolatry and immorality prevailed, till they also filled up the measure of their sins. Then, impartial heaven "stretched over Jerusalem the line of Samaria, and the plummet of the house of Ahab." * * 2 Kings xxi. 13. The generation on which those judgments were executed was greatly depraved, and like the men of Sodom, sinners exceedingly; but their sins alone would not have occasioned those desolations; they were added to the national account, and filled up the measure of national guilt. One of their kings did much to swell that account. Mention is made, more than once, of his sins, particularly of the innocent blood which he shed, as fixing the doom of the nation, rendering prayer for it unavailing and its ruin inevitable. "Though Moses and Samuel stood before me, yet my mind could not be towards this people: Cast them out of my sight; I will cause them to be removed into all the kingdoms of the earth, _because of Manassah, the king of Judah, for that which he did in Jerusalem_." * Wantonly shedding the blood of his subjects, was one of the sins charged upon him. This sin is, in a sense, unpardonable. "Blood defileth the land; and the land cannot be cleansed of the blood that is shed in it, but by the blood of him that shed it." + Manasseh's blood was not shed. Therefore was the land destined to suffer, Josiah, who reigned after Manasseh, was pious; but after he had done every thing in his power to atone for the sins of his fathers, and reclaim the nation, and not wholly without effect, it is expressly noted that "the Lord turned not from the fierceness of his wrath, wherewith his anger was kindled against Judah, because of all the provocations that Manasseh had provoked him withal." And after the judgments had been executed, it is again remarked that they were sent to punish the sins of that wicked ruler--"Surely at the commandment of the Lord came this upon Judah, _for the sins of Manasseh, according to all that he did; and also for the innocent blood that he shed, for he filled Jerusalem with innocent blood, which the Lord would not pardon_." ++ * Jeremiah xv. 1-4. + Numbers xxxv. 33. ++ 2 Kings xxiii. 26, xxiv. 3, 4. Manasseh was gone off the stage; so were all who had shared in his guilt; that prince had, moreover, repented and obtained personal forgiveness; but his crimes had filled up the measure of national wickedness, and judgment must follow. There was no remedy. These are conclusive evidence that the sins of a people, and especially of the rulers of a people, which are not punished by the civil arm, are charged to the people, and eventually punished upon them. As there are seasons in which God judgeth nations and communities, and renders to them according to their works, there are also seasons in which he doth the same by the world. That this will be done at the end of the world, or at the judgment of the great day, is not matter of doubt with believers in revelation. But some other seasons of divine judgment are now more particularly intended. For there are seasons in which God's judgments are abroad in the earth--in which the sins of the world seem to be brought to remembrance, and punished on its inhabitants. Eminently such was the six hundredth year of the life of Noah. "When the earth was corrupt before God, and filled with violence," he entered into judgment, and punished the sin of the world, in the destruction of its inhabitants. God did not "do his work, his strange work, or bring to pass his act, his strange act," as soon as "the wickedness of man was great, and every imagination of the thoughts of his heart only evil continually." He waited long. But when the vast term allowed to antediluvian sinners was expired, he swept off a race who had been disobedient while long suffering mercy waited with them. The sin of the world was then full. Human guilt had long been augmenting, and at length occasioned that awful display of divine justice. Many who were at that time destroyed were, no doubt great and old offenders; but many others differed from them, were but entering on life, not capable, of personal guilt, yet they were involved in the general calamity. Those of every character perished together, "The flood came and took them all away." There hath been no other season in which the divine judgments toward the whole world have been so signally manifest as at the deluge. There have however, been times in which they have been very general and very severe. One of those times was at hand in our Savior's day. On the generation which lived when he suffered for the sins of men, were some of the vials of divine wrath poured out, though not those in which the wrath of God was filled up. Perhaps at no period yet past, that of the deluge excepted, hath God visited the sins of men with greater severity. If the divine judgments fell then more particularly on the Jews, the other nations did not escape. If the Jews suffered more than others, there were reasons; nor are they wholly concealed. The Jews had enjoyed greater religious privileges than others--had more means of instruction in divine things, and had neglected and abused them, and seem to have more completely filled up the measure of their iniquity than any other people. "To whom much is given, of them is the more required; and those who know their duty and yet do things worthy of stripes shall be beaten with many stripes." God was also at that time avenging "the righteous blood which had been shed upon the earth"--the blood of his saints who had been martyred, of which more than a double portion was chargeable on that people. They had of old killed the prophets, and persecuted those who had been sent of God to warn them from their ways. The same was still their governing temper, and to a greater degree than at any former period of their history. They were also the church of God; and he was now entering into judgment with his church, as a community the measure of whose iniquity was full. This was nearly their situation when the Savior addressed them, as in our context--"Fill ye up the measure of your fathers." THIS was not a command, but a prediction of what was then nearly accomplished; and he told them how it would be completed--by their killing and crucifying the messengers of heaven, at whose head was the divine messenger who then addressed them--that when they should have done these things, God would enter into judgment with them, and avenge on them "all the righteous blood which had been shed in his church from the foundation of the world." _Verify I say unto you, all these things shall come on this generation_. And he assured them that it would desolate their country, and that it would remain destitute of those religious privileges which they then enjoyed, till they should become of another spirit--"Behold your house is left unto you desolate. For I say unto you, Ye shall not see me henceforth, till ye shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord." As soon as Christ was alone with his disciples he gave them a description of those desolations which is recorded in the following chapter, and is so plain, and made such an impression on the Christians of that day, who were mostly Jews, that they fled at the approach of the Roman armies and escaped the calamities which overwhelmed their nation. Whoever reads the history of that age will be convinced of the truth of that prediction--Then shall be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to that time, no, nor ever shall see. "Those were the days of vengeance, that all things which were written might be fulfilled." Another of the seasons of divine judgments occurred at the subversion of the Roman empire by the Northern barbarians. That mighty empire comprehended a very large portion of the then known world. It had become exceedingly populous. Italy, in particular was chiefly covered with the dwellings of men, like one continued city; and almost the whole empire swarmed with inhabitants, and many parts were cultivated like a garden. But when those savages broke into it, they carried fire and sword wherever they went. Like the armies of God's judgments described by the prophet Joel, they carried terror and destruction --"A fire devoured before them, and behind them a flame burned: The land was as the garden of Eden before them, and behind them a desolate wilderness; and nothing escaped them." * The most populous and fruitful parts of that vast empire were literally made desolate, and became a wilderness; and many places have never recovered their former lustre, and few become equally populous to this day. * Joel ii. 3. Waving the particular mention of other periods in which the judgments of God have been made manifest, would only observe, that we are taught by the prophets, to expect desolating judgments before the beginning of the latter day glory, and that they will be very general--that the sins, not of this, or that community, but of the world will come into remembrance before God; and that the full vials of his wrath will be poured out, not barely to avenge the sins of that generation, but the sins of the world, the measure of their iniquity being then full. The most terrifying metaphors are used to prefigure the judgments which will then be executed on mankind. The destruction of men is compared to the harvest and vintage! But the language of prophecy, if we consider the human race as the objects of the harvest and vintage, admits no augmentation of terror. "And I looked, and behold a white cloud, and upon the cloud one sat, like unto the Son of Man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle. And another angel came out of the temple, crying with a loud voice, to him that sat on the cloud, Thrust in thy sickle and reap: For the time is come for thee to reap; for the harvest of the earth is ripe. And he that sat on the cloud thrust in his sickle on the earth, and the earth was reaped. And another angel came out of the temple which is in heaven, he also having a sharp sickle. And another angel came out from the altar, which had power over fire; and cried with a loud cry to him that had the sharp sickle, saying, Thrust in thy sharp sickle, and gather the clutters of the vine of the earth; for her grapes are fully ripe. And the angel thrust in his sickle into the earth, and gathered the vine of the earth, and cast it into the great wine press of the wrath of God. And the wine press was trodden without the city; and blood came out of the wine press, even unto the horses bridles, by the space of a thousand and six hundred furlongs." * * Revelation xiv. 14-22. The scenes here depicted are yet future. They are confirmed, and in some measure illustrated by other prophecies; but as our understanding of prophecies must remain partial till explained by their accomplishment, we leave the intelligent reader to his own reflections upon them. INFERENCES. I. That communities, both small and great are on trial here, and that they are eventually called into judgment and rewarded and punished according to their use, or abuse of talents, is fairly deducible from the subject under consideration. Such being the divine administration, we see the importance of national virtue. Morals are the health and strength of a community: While they remain no enemy can prevail against it. "The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them"--But when a community degenerates, and become corrupt and vicious, their guardian angel quits his charge, and their guardian God becomes the avenger of their crimes. II. We see also the importance of good government, and good rulers, who will execute righteous laws with fidelity, and in their own persons, set the example of obedience to them. The example of those in authority hath a commanding influence. Their principles and practices, draw many after them. We see this exemplified in the history of the Hebrews: When their great men were good men, virtue was respected, and the nation rejoiced; but "the wicked walked on every side, when the vilest men were exalted," and the degrading, and even desolating judgments of heaven followed. "These things happened unto them for ensamples; and are written for our admonition," * * 1 Corinthians x. 11. III. The character of individuals is not to be judged by their circumstances here. When judgments are abroad to punish national wickedness they do not always fall on the most guilty--they fall on the community.--All who belong to it are obnoxious. "Suppose ye that the Gallileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices were sinners above all the Gallileans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, Nay; except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." All have sins sufficient to justify God in taking them away when, and how, he pleaseth. Was there not another life, impartiality would require a different divine administration. Discriminations would here be made according to the difference of moral characters. They are not made. The iniquity of fathers is visited on their children; the iniquity of communities on particular generations, and on individuals; and often on those who are not the most guilty! We see it in every part of the sketch which we have taken of the divine government. The doctrine of another life clears up this mystery. Without the belief of it we cannot "ascribe righteousness to our Maker;" but when we take it into the account every difficulty is removed, That there is another life, in which the perfect rectitude of divine providence will appear, is a dictate of reason, and the explicit language of revelation. IV. When the mystery of God is finished, and the veil now spread over the divine administration taken away, we shall see the wisdom, justice, and goodness of those parts of it, which now, seeing only in part, we contemplate with surprize and wonder.--"That all the righteous blood shed on the earth, from that of righteous Abel, to our Savior's day, should be required of that generation;" and that there should be seasons in which the sins of nations and of the world are avenged on particular generations, who are made to bear the sins of those who had gone before them, and on individuals, not distinguished by their crimes, will no more astonish and confound us! We now witness such things in the divine administration! We cannot but witness them. We shall then see the reasons of them, and be satisfied; we shall join in that angelic ascription, "Even so Lord God Almighty, true and righteous are thy judgments." * Till that decisive day, let us wait on the Lord, and in the way of well doing, trust in his mercy --"For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things; To whom be glory forever." + * Revelation xvi. 7. + Romans xi. 26. AMEN. 
3150	----	Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Co. edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org HUMAN NATURE AND OTHER SERMONS BY JOSEPH BUTLER BISHOP OF DURHAM. CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED: _LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_. 1887 INTRODUCTION. Joseph Butler was born in 1692, youngest of eight children of a linendraper at Wantage, in Berkshire. His father was a Presbyterian, and after education at the Wantage Free Grammar School Joseph Butler was sent to be educated for the Presbyterian ministry in a training academy at Gloucester, which was afterwards removed to Tewkesbury. There he had a friend and comrade, Secker, who afterwards became Archbishop of Canterbury. Butler and Secker inquired actively, and there was foreshadowing of his future in the fact that in 1713, at the age of twenty-one, Butler was engaged in anonymous discussion with Samuel Clarke upon his book on the _a priori_ demonstration of the Divine Existence and Attributes. When the time drew near for call to the ministry, Butler, like his friend Secker, had reasoned himself into accordance with the teaching of the Church of England. Butler's father did not oppose his strong desire to enter the Church, and he was entered in 1714 at Oriel College, Oxford. At college a strong friendship was established between Butler and a fellow- student, Edward Talbot, whose father was a Bishop, formerly of Oxford and Salisbury, then of Durham. Through Talbot's influence Butler obtained in 1718 the office of Preacher in the Rolls Chapel, which he held for the next eight years. In 1722 Talbot died, and on his death-bed urged his father on behalf of his friend Butler. The Bishop accordingly presented Joseph Butler to the living of Houghton-le-Spring. But it was found that costs of dilapidations were beyond his means at Houghton, and Butler had a dangerous regard for building works. He was preferred two years afterwards to the living of Stanhope, which then became vacant, and which yielded a substantial income. Butler sought nothing for himself, his simplicity of character, real worth, and rare intellectual power, secured him friends, and the love of two of them--Talbot first, and afterwards Secker, who made his own way in the Church, and became strong enough to put his friend as well as himself in the way of worldly advancement, secured for Butler all the patronage he had, until the Queen also became his active friend. Joseph Butler was seven years at Stanhope, quietly devoted to his parish duties, preaching, studying, and writing his "Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature." In 1727, while still at Stanhope, he was appointed to a stall in Durham Cathedral. Secker, having become chaplain to the Queen, encouraged her in admiration of Butler's sermons. He told her that the author was not dead, but buried, and secured her active interest in his behalf. From Talbot, who had become Lord Chancellor, Secker had no difficulty in obtaining for Butler a chaplaincy which exempted him from the necessity of residence at Stanhope. Butler, in accepting it, stipulated for permission to live and work in his parish for six months in every year. Next he was made chaplain to the King, and Rector of St. James's, upon which he gave up Stanhope. In 1736 Queen Caroline appointed him her Clerk of the Closet, an office which gave Butler the duty of attendance upon her for two hours every evening. In that year he published his "Analogy," of which the purpose was to meet, on its own ground, the scepticism of his day. The Queen died in 1737, and, in accordance with the strong desire expressed in her last days, in 1738 Butler was made a Bishop. But his Bishopric was Bristol, worth only 300 or 400 pounds a year. The King added the Deanery of St. Paul's, when that became vacant in 1740, and in 1750, towards the close of his life, Joseph Butler was translated to the Bishopric of Durham. He died in 1752. No man could be less self-seeking. He owed his rise in the Church wholly to the intellectual power and substantial worth of character that inspired strong friendship. Seeing how little he sought worldly advancement for himself, while others were pressing and scrambling, Butler's friends used their opportunities of winning for him the advancement he deserved. He was happiest in doing his work, of which a chief part was in his study, where he employed his philosophic mind in strengthening the foundations of religious faith. Faith in God was attacked by men who claimed especially to be philosophers, and they were best met by the man who had, beyond all other divines of his day--some might not be afraid to add, of any day--the philosophic mind. H. M. SERMON I. UPON HUMAN NATURE. ROMANS xii. 4, 5. _For as we have many members in one body_, _and all members have not the same office_: _so we_, _being many_, _are one body in Christ_, _and every one members one of another_. The Epistles in the New Testament have all of them a particular reference to the condition and usages of the Christian world at the time they were written. Therefore as they cannot be thoroughly understood unless that condition and those usages are known and attended to, so, further, though they be known, yet if they be discontinued or changed, exhortations, precepts, and illustrations of things, which refer to such circumstances now ceased or altered, cannot at this time be urged in that manner and with that force which they were to the primitive Christians. Thus the text now before us, in its first intent and design, relates to the decent management of those extraordinary gifts which were then in the Church, {1} but which are now totally ceased. And even as to the allusion that "we are one body in Christ," though what the apostle here intends is equally true of Christians in all circumstances, and the consideration of it is plainly still an additional motive, over and above moral considerations, to the discharge of the several duties and offices of a Christian, yet it is manifest this allusion must have appeared with much greater force to those who, by the many difficulties they went through for the sake of their religion, were led to keep always in view the relation they stood in to their Saviour, who had undergone the same: to those, who, from the idolatries of all around them, and their ill-treatment, were taught to consider themselves as not of the world in which they lived, but as a distinct society of themselves; with laws and ends, and principles of life and action, quite contrary to those which the world professed themselves at that time influenced by. Hence the relation of a Christian was by them considered as nearer than that of affinity and blood; and they almost literally esteemed themselves as members one of another. It cannot, indeed, possibly be denied, that our being God's creatures, and virtue being the natural law we are born under, and the whole constitution of man being plainly adapted to it, are prior obligations to piety and virtue than the consideration that God sent his Son into the world to save it, and the motives which arise from the peculiar relation of Christians as members one of another under Christ our head. However, though all this be allowed, as it expressly is by the inspired writers, yet it is manifest that Christians at the time of the Revelation, and immediately after, could not but insist mostly upon considerations of this latter kind. These observations show the original particular reference to the text, and the peculiar force with which the thing intended by the allusion in it must have been felt by the primitive Christian world. They likewise afford a reason for treating it at this time in a more general way. The relation which the several parts or members of the natural body have to each other and to the whole body is here compared to the relation which each particular person in society has to other particular persons and to the whole society; and the latter is intended to be illustrated by the former. And if there be a likeness between these two relations, the consequence is obvious: that the latter shows us we were intended to do good to others, as the former shows us that the several members of the natural body were intended to be instruments of good to each other and to the whole body. But as there is scarce any ground for a comparison between society and the mere material body, this without the mind being a dead unactive thing, much less can the comparison be carried to any length. And since the apostle speaks of the several members as having distinct offices, which implies the mind, it cannot be thought an allowable liberty, instead of the _body_ and _its members_, to substitute the _whole nature_ of _man_, and _all the variety of internal principles which belong to it_. And then the comparison will be between the nature of man as respecting self, and tending to private good, his own preservation and happiness; and the nature of man as having respect to society, and tending to promote public good, the happiness of that society. These ends do indeed perfectly coincide; and to aim at public and private good are so far from being inconsistent that they mutually promote each other: yet in the following discourse they must be considered as entirely distinct; otherwise the nature of man as tending to one, or as tending to the other, cannot be compared. There can no comparison be made, without considering the things compared as distinct and different. From this review and comparison of the nature of man as respecting self and as respecting society, it will plainly appear that _there are as real and the same kind of indications in human nature_, _that we were made for society and to do good to our fellow-creatures_, _as that we were intended to take care of our own life and health and private good_: _and that the same objections lie against one of these assertions as against the other_. For, First, there is a natural principle of _benevolence_ {2} in man, which is in some degree to _society_ what _self-love_ is to the _individual_. And if there be in mankind any disposition to friendship; if there be any such thing as compassion--for compassion is momentary love--if there be any such thing as the paternal or filial affections; if there be any affection in human nature, the object and end of which is the good of another, this is itself benevolence, or the love of another. Be it ever so short, be it in ever so low a degree, or ever so unhappily confined, it proves the assertion, and points out what we were designed for, as really as though it were in a higher degree and more extensive. I must, however, remind you that though benevolence and self-love are different, though the former tends most directly to public good, and the latter to private, yet they are so perfectly coincident that the greatest satisfactions to ourselves depend upon our having benevolence in a due degree; and that self-love is one chief security of our right behaviour towards society. It may be added that their mutual coinciding, so that we can scarce promote one without the other, is equally a proof that we were made for both. Secondly, this will further appear, from observing that the _several passions_ and _affections_, which are distinct {3} both from benevolence and self-love, do in general contribute and lead us to _public good_ as really as to _private_. It might be thought too minute and particular, and would carry us too great a length, to distinguish between and compare together the several passions or appetites distinct from benevolence, whose primary use and intention is the security and good of society, and the passions distinct from self-love, whose primary intention and design is the security and good of the individual. {4} It is enough to the present argument that desire of esteem from others, contempt and esteem of them, love of society as distinct from affection to the good of it, indignation against successful vice--that these are public affections or passions, have an immediate respect to others, naturally lead us to regulate our behaviour in such a manner as will be of service to our fellow-creatures. If any or all of these may be considered likewise as private affections, as tending to private good, this does not hinder them from being public affections too, or destroy the good influence of them upon society, and their tendency to public good. It may be added that as persons without any conviction from reason of the desirableness of life would yet of course preserve it merely from the appetite of hunger, so, by acting merely from regard (suppose) to reputation, without any consideration of the good of others, men often contribute to public good. In both these instances they are plainly instruments in the hands of another, in the hands of Providence, to carry on ends--the preservation of the individual and good of society--which they themselves have not in their view or intention. The sum is, men have various appetites, passions, and particular affections, quite distinct both from self-love and from benevolence: all of these have a tendency to promote both public and private good, and may be considered as respecting others and ourselves equally and in common; but some of them seem most immediately to respect others, or tend to public good; others of them most immediately to respect self, or tend to private good: as the former are not benevolence, so the latter are not self-love: neither sort are instances of our love either to ourselves or others, but only instances of our Maker's care and love both of the individual and the species, and proofs that He intended we should be instruments of good to each other, as well as that we should be so to ourselves. Thirdly, there is a principle of reflection in men, by which they distinguish between, approve and disapprove their own actions. We are plainly constituted such sort of creatures as to reflect upon our own nature. The mind can take a view of what passes within itself, its propensions, aversions, passions, affections as respecting such objects, and in such degrees; and of the several actions consequent thereupon. In this survey it approves of one, disapproves of another, and towards a third is affected in neither of these ways, but is quite indifferent. This principle in man, by which he approves or disapproves his heart, temper, and actions, is conscience; for this is the strict sense of the word, though sometimes it is used so as to take in more. And that this faculty tends to restrain men from doing mischief to each other, and leads them to do good, is too manifest to need being insisted upon. Thus a parent has the affection of love to his children: this leads him to take care of, to educate, to make due provision for them--the natural affection leads to this: but the reflection that it is his proper business, what belongs to him, that it is right and commendable so to do--this, added to the affection, becomes a much more settled principle, and carries him on through more labour and difficulties for the sake of his children than he would undergo from that affection alone, if he thought it, and the cause of action it led to, either indifferent or criminal. This indeed is impossible, to do that which is good and not to approve of it; for which reason they are frequently not considered as distinct, though they really are: for men often approve of the action of others which they will not imitate, and likewise do that which they approve not. It cannot possibly be denied that there is this principle of reflection or conscience in human nature. Suppose a man to relieve an innocent person in great distress; suppose the same man afterwards, in the fury of anger, to do the greatest mischief to a person who had given no just cause of offence. To aggravate the injury, add the circumstances of former friendship and obligation from the injured person; let the man who is supposed to have done these two different actions coolly reflect upon them afterwards, without regard to their consequences to himself: to assert that any common man would be affected in the same way towards these different actions, that he would make no distinction between them, but approve or disapprove them equally, is too glaring a falsity to need being confuted. There is therefore this principle of reflection or conscience in mankind. It is needless to compare the respect it has to private good with the respect it has to public; since it plainly tends as much to the latter as to the former, and is commonly thought to tend chiefly to the latter. This faculty is now mentioned merely as another part in the inward frame of man, pointing out to us in some degree what we are intended for, and as what will naturally and of course have some influence. The particular place assigned to it by nature, what authority it has, and how great influence it ought to have, shall be hereafter considered. From this comparison of benevolence and self-love, of our public and private affections, of the courses of life they lead to, and of the principle of reflection or conscience as respecting each of them, it is as manifest that _we were made for society_, _and to promote the happiness of it_, _as that we were intended to take care of our own life and health and private good_. And from this whole review must be given a different draught of human nature from what we are often presented with. Mankind are by nature so closely united, there is such a correspondence between the inward sensations of one man and those of another, that disgrace is as much avoided as bodily pain, and to be the object of esteem and love as much desired as any external goods; and in many particular cases persons are carried on to do good to others, as the end their affection tends to and rests in; and manifest that they find real satisfaction and enjoyment in this course of behaviour. There is such a natural principle of attraction in man towards man that having trod the same tract of land, having breathed in the same climate, barely having been born in the same artificial district or division, becomes the occasion of contracting acquaintances and familiarities many years after; for anything may serve the purpose. Thus relations merely nominal are sought and invented, not by governors, but by the lowest of the people, which are found sufficient to hold mankind together in little fraternities and copartnerships: weak ties indeed, and what may afford fund enough for ridicule, if they are absurdly considered as the real principles of that union: but they are in truth merely the occasions, as anything may be of anything, upon which our nature carries us on according to its own previous bent and bias; which occasions therefore would be nothing at all were there not this prior disposition and bias of nature. Men are so much one body that in a peculiar manner they feel for each other shame, sudden danger, resentment, honour, prosperity, distress; one or another, or all of these, from the social nature in general, from benevolence, upon the occasion of natural relation, acquaintance, protection, dependence; each of these being distinct cements of society. And therefore to have no restraint from, no regard to, others in our behaviour, is the speculative absurdity of considering ourselves as single and independent, as having nothing in our nature which has respect to our fellow-creatures, reduced to action and practice. And this is the same absurdity as to suppose a hand, or any part, to have no natural respect to any other, or to the whole body. But, allowing all this, it may be asked, "Has not man dispositions and principles within which lead him to do evil to others, as well as to do good? Whence come the many miseries else which men are the authors and instruments of to each other?" These questions, so far as they relate to the foregoing discourse, may be answered by asking, Has not man also dispositions and principles within which lead him to do evil to himself, as well as good? Whence come the many miseries else--sickness, pain, and death--which men are instruments and authors of to themselves? It may be thought more easy to answer one of these questions than the other, but the answer to both is really the same: that mankind have ungoverned passions which they will gratify at any rate, as well to the injury of others as in contradiction to known private interest: but that as there is no such thing as self-hatred, so neither is there any such thing as ill-will in one man towards another, emulation and resentment being away; whereas there is plainly benevolence or good-will: there is no such thing as love of injustice, oppression, treachery, ingratitude, but only eager desires after such and such external goods; which, according to a very ancient observation, the most abandoned would choose to obtain by innocent means, if they were as easy and as effectual to their end: that even emulation and resentment, by any one who will consider what these passions really are in nature, {5} will be found nothing to the purpose of this objection; and that the principles and passions in the mind of man, which are distinct both from self-love and benevolence, primarily and most directly lead to right behaviour with regard to others as well as himself, and only secondarily and accidentally to what is evil. Thus, though men, to avoid the shame of one villainy, are sometimes guilty of a greater, yet it is easy to see that the original tendency of shame is to prevent the doing of shameful actions; and its leading men to conceal such actions when done is only in consequence of their being done; _i.e._, of the passion's not having answered its first end. If it be said that there are persons in the world who are in great measure without the natural affections towards their fellow-creatures, there are likewise instances of persons without the common natural affections to themselves. But the nature of man is not to be judged of by either of these, but by what appears in the common world, in the bulk of mankind. I am afraid it would be thought very strange, if to confirm the truth of this account of human nature, and make out the justness of the foregoing comparison, it should be added that from what appears, men in fact as much and as often contradict that _part_ of their nature which respects _self_, and which leads them to their _own private_ good and happiness, as they contradict that _part_ of it which respects _society_, and tends to _public_ good: that there are as few persons who attain the greatest satisfaction and enjoyment which they might attain in the present world, as who do the greatest good to others which they might do; nay, that there are as few who can be said really and in earnest to aim at one as at the other. Take a survey of mankind: the world in general, the good and bad, almost without exception, equally are agreed that were religion out of the case, the happiness of the present life would consist in a manner wholly in riches, honours, sensual gratifications; insomuch that one scarce hears a reflection made upon prudence, life, conduct, but upon this supposition. Yet, on the contrary, that persons in the greatest affluence of fortune are no happier than such as have only a competency; that the cares and disappointments of ambition for the most part far exceed the satisfactions of it; as also the miserable intervals of intemperance and excess, and the many untimely deaths occasioned by a dissolute course of life: these things are all seen, acknowledged, by every one acknowledged; but are thought no objections against, though they expressly contradict, this universal principle--that the happiness of the present life consists in one or other of them. Whence is all this absurdity and contradiction? Is not the middle way obvious? Can anything be more manifest than that the happiness of life consists in these possessed and enjoyed only to a certain degree; that to pursue them beyond this degree is always attended with more inconvenience than advantage to a man's self, and often with extreme misery and unhappiness? Whence, then, I say, is all this absurdity and contradiction? Is it really the result of consideration in mankind, how they may become most easy to themselves, most free from care, and enjoy the chief happiness attainable in this world? Or is it not manifestly owing either to this, that they have not cool and reasonable concern enough for themselves to consider wherein their chief happiness in the present life consists; or else, if they do consider it, that they will not act conformably to what is the result of that consideration--_i.e._, reasonable concern for themselves, or cool self-love, is prevailed over by passions and appetite? So that from what appears there is no ground to assert that those principles in the nature of man, which most directly lead to promote the good of our fellow-creatures, are more generally or in a greater degree violated than those which most directly lead us to promote our own private good and happiness. The sum of the whole is plainly this: The nature of man considered in his single capacity, and with respect only to the present world, is adapted and leads him to attain the greatest happiness he can for himself in the present world. The nature of man considered in his public or social capacity leads him to right behaviour in society, to that course of life which we call virtue. Men follow or obey their nature in both these capacities and respects to a certain degree, but not entirely: their actions do not come up to the whole of what their nature leads them to in either of these capacities or respects: and they often violate their nature in both; _i.e._, as they neglect the duties they owe to their fellow-creatures, to which their nature leads them, and are injurious, to which their nature is abhorrent, so there is a manifest negligence in men of their real happiness or interest in the present world, when that interest is inconsistent with a present gratification; for the sake of which they negligently, nay, even knowingly, are the authors and instruments of their own misery and ruin. Thus they are as often unjust to themselves as to others, and for the most part are equally so to both by the same actions. SERMON II., III. UPON HUMAN NATURE. ROMANS ii. 14. _For when the Gentiles_, _which have not the law_, _do by nature the things contained in the law_, _these_, _having not the law_, _are a law unto themselves_. As speculative truth admits of different kinds of proof, so likewise moral obligations may be shown by different methods. If the real nature of any creature leads him and is adapted to such and such purposes only, or more than to any other, this is a reason to believe the Author of that nature intended it for those purposes. Thus there is no doubt the eye was intended for us to see with. And the more complex any constitution is, and the greater variety of parts there are which thus tend to some one end, the stronger is the proof that such end was designed. However, when the inward frame of man is considered as any guide in morals, the utmost caution must be used that none make peculiarities in their own temper, or anything which is the effect of particular customs, though observable in several, the standard of what is common to the species; and above all, that the highest principle be not forgot or excluded, that to which belongs the adjustment and correction of all other inward movements and affections; which principle will of course have some influence, but which being in nature supreme, as shall now be shown, ought to preside over and govern all the rest. The difficulty of rightly observing the two former cautions; the appearance there is of some small diversity amongst mankind with respect to this faculty, with respect to their natural sense of moral good and evil; and the attention necessary to survey with any exactness what passes within, have occasioned that it is not so much agreed what is the standard of the internal nature of man as of his external form. Neither is this last exactly settled. Yet we understand one another when we speak of the shape of a human body: so likewise we do when we speak of the heart and inward principles, how far soever the standard is from being exact or precisely fixed. There is therefore ground for an attempt of showing men to themselves, of showing them what course of life and behaviour their real nature points out and would lead them to. Now obligations of virtue shown, and motives to the practice of it enforced, from a review of the nature of man, are to be considered as an appeal to each particular person's heart and natural conscience: as the external senses are appealed to for the proof of things cognisable by them. Since, then, our inward feelings, and the perceptions we receive from our external senses, are equally real, to argue from the former to life and conduct is as little liable to exception as to argue from the latter to absolute speculative truth. A man can as little doubt whether his eyes were given him to see with as he can doubt of the truth of the science of _optics_, deduced from ocular experiments. And allowing the inward feeling, shame, a man can as little doubt whether it was given him to prevent his doing shameful actions as he can doubt whether his eyes were given him to guide his steps. And as to these inward feelings themselves, that they are real, that man has in his nature passions and affections, can no more be questioned than that he has external senses. Neither can the former be wholly mistaken, though to a certain degree liable to greater mistakes than the latter. There can be no doubt but that several propensions or instincts, several principles in the heart of man, carry him to society, and to contribute to the happiness of it, in a sense and a manner in which no inward principle leads him to evil. These principles, propensions, or instincts which lead him to do good are approved of by a certain faculty within, quite distinct from these propensions themselves. All this hath been fully made out in the foregoing discourse. But it may be said, "What is all this, though true, to the purpose of virtue and religion? these require, not only that we do good to others when we are led this way, by benevolence or reflection happening to be stronger than other principles, passions, or appetites, but likewise that the _whole_ character be formed upon thought and reflection; that _every_ action be directed by some determinate rule, some other rule than the strength and prevalency of any principle or passion. What sign is there in our nature (for the inquiry is only about what is to be collected from thence) that this was intended by its Author? Or how does so various and fickle a temper as that of man appear adapted thereto? It may indeed be absurd and unnatural for men to act without any reflection; nay, without regard to that particular kind of reflection which you call conscience, because this does belong to our nature. For as there never was a man but who approved one place, prospect, building, before another, so it does not appear that there ever was a man who would not have approved an action of humanity rather than of cruelty; interest and passion being quite out of the case. But interest and passion do come in, and are often too strong for and prevail over reflection and conscience. Now as brutes have various instincts, by which they are carried on to the end the Author of their nature intended them for, is not man in the same condition--with this difference only, that to his instincts (_i.e._, appetites and passion) is added the principle of reflection or conscience? And as brutes act agreeably to their nature, in following that principle or particular instinct which for the present is strongest in them, does not man likewise act agreeably to his nature, or obey the law of his creation, by following that principle, be it passion or conscience, which for the present happens to be strongest in him? Thus different men are by their particular nature hurried on to pursue honour or riches or pleasure; there are also persons whose temper leads them in an uncommon degree to kindness, compassion, doing good to their fellow- creatures, as there are others who are given to suspend their judgment, to weigh and consider things, and to act upon thought and reflection. Let every one, then, quietly follow his nature, as passion, reflection, appetite, the several parts of it, happen to be strongest; but let not the man of virtue take upon him to blame the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute, since these equally with him obey and follow their nature. Thus, as in some cases we follow our nature in doing the works _contained in the law_, so in other cases we follow nature in doing contrary." Now all this licentious talk entirely goes upon a supposition that men follow their nature in the same sense, in violating the known rules of justice and honesty for the sake of a present gratification, as they do in following those rules when they have no temptation to the contrary. And if this were true, that could not be so which St. Paul asserts, that men are _by nature a law to themselves_. If by following nature were meant only acting as we please, it would indeed be ridiculous to speak of nature as any guide in morals; nay, the very mention of deviating from nature would be absurd; and the mention of following it, when spoken by way of distinction, would absolutely have no meaning. For did ever any one act otherwise than as he pleased? And yet the ancients speak of deviating from nature as vice, and of following nature so much as a distinction, that according to them the perfection of virtue consists therein. So that language itself should teach people another sense to the words _following nature_ than barely acting as we please. Let it, however, be observed that though the words _human nature_ are to be explained, yet the real question of this discourse is not concerning the meaning of words, any other than as the explanation of them may be needful to make out and explain the assertion, that _every man is naturally a law to himself_, that _every one may find within himself the rule of right_, _and obligations to follow it_. This St. Paul affirms in the words of the text, and this the foregoing objection really denies by seeming to allow it. And the objection will be fully answered, and the text before us explained, by observing that _nature_ is considered in different views, and the word used in different senses; and by showing in what view it is considered, and in what sense the word is used, when intended to express and signify that which is the guide of life, that by which men are a law to themselves. I say, the explanation of the term will be sufficient, because from thence it will appear that in some senses of the word _nature_ cannot be, but that in another sense it manifestly is, a law to us. I. By nature is often meant no more than some principle in man, without regard either to the kind or degree of it. Thus the passion of anger, and the affection of parents to their children, would be called equally _natural_. And as the same person hath often contrary principles, which at the same time draw contrary ways, he may by the same action both follow and contradict his nature in this sense of the word; he may follow one passion and contradict another. II. _Nature_ is frequently spoken of as consisting in those passions which are strongest, and most influence the actions; which being vicious ones, mankind is in this sense naturally vicious, or vicious by nature. Thus St. Paul says of the Gentiles, _who were dead in trespasses and sins_, _and walked according to the spirit of disobedience_, _that they were by nature the children of wrath_. {6} They could be no otherwise _children of wrath_ by nature than they were vicious by nature. Here, then, are two different senses of the word _nature_, in neither of which men can at all be said to be a law to themselves. They are mentioned only to be excluded, to prevent their being confounded, as the latter is in the objection, with another sense of it, which is now to be inquired after and explained. III. The apostle asserts that the Gentiles _do by NATURE the things contained in the law_. Nature is indeed here put by way of distinction from revelation, but yet it is not a mere negative. He intends to express more than that by which they _did not_, that by which they _did_, the works of the law; namely, by _nature_. It is plain the meaning of the word is not the same in this passage as in the former, where it is spoken of as evil; for in this latter it is spoken of as good--as that by which they acted, or might have acted, virtuously. What that is in man by which he is _naturally a law to himself_ is explained in the following words: _Which show the work of the law written in their hearts_, _their consciences also bearing witness_, _and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another_. If there be a distinction to be made between the _works written in their hearts_, and the _witness of conscience_, by the former must be meant the natural disposition to kindness and compassion to do what is of good report, to which this apostle often refers: that part of the nature of man, treated of in the foregoing discourse, which with very little reflection and of course leads him to society, and by means of which he naturally acts a just and good part in it, unless other passions or interest lead him astray. Yet since other passions, and regards to private interest, which lead us (though indirectly, yet they lead us) astray, are themselves in a degree equally natural, and often most prevalent, and since we have no method of seeing the particular degrees in which one or the other is placed in us by nature, it is plain the former, considered merely as natural, good and right as they are, can no more be a law to us than the latter. But there is a superior principle of reflection or conscience in every man, which distinguishes between the internal principles of his heart, as well as his external actions; which passes judgement upon himself and them, pronounces determinately some actions to be in themselves just, right, good, others to be in themselves evil, wrong, unjust: which, without being consulted, without being advised with, magisterially exerts itself, and approves or condemns him the doer of them accordingly: and which, if not forcibly stopped, naturally and always of course goes on to anticipate a higher and more effectual sentence, which shall hereafter second and affirm its own. But this part of the office of conscience is beyond my present design explicitly to consider. It is by this faculty, natural to man, that he is a moral agent, that he is a law to himself, but this faculty, I say, not to be considered merely as a principle in his heart, which is to have some influence as well as others, but considered as a faculty in kind and in nature supreme over all others, and which bears its own authority of being so. This _prerogative_, this _natural supremacy_, of the faculty which surveys, approves, or disapproves the several affections of our mind and actions of our lives, being that by which men _are a law to themselves_, their conformity or disobedience to which law of our nature renders their actions, in the highest and most proper sense, natural or unnatural, it is fit it be further explained to you; and I hope it will be so, if you will attend to the following reflections. Man may act according to that principle or inclination which for the present happens to be strongest, and yet act in a way disproportionate to, and violate his real proper nature. Suppose a brute creature by any bait to be allured into a snare, by which he is destroyed. He plainly followed the bent of his nature, leading him to gratify his appetite: there is an entire correspondence between his whole nature and such an action: such action therefore is natural. But suppose a man, foreseeing the same danger of certain ruin, should rush into it for the sake of a present gratification; he in this instance would follow his strongest desire, as did the brute creature; but there would be as manifest a disproportion between the nature of a man and such an action as between the meanest work of art and the skill of the greatest master in that art; which disproportion arises, not from considering the action singly in _itself_, or in its _consequences_, but from _comparison_ of it with the nature of the agent. And since such an action is utterly disproportionate to the nature of man, it is in the strictest and most proper sense unnatural; this word expressing that disproportion. Therefore, instead of the words _disproportionate to his nature_, the word _unnatural_ may now be put; this being more familiar to us: but let it be observed that it stands for the same thing precisely. Now what is it which renders such a rash action unnatural? Is it that he went against the principle of reasonable and cool self-love, considered _merely_ as a part of his nature? No; for if he had acted the contrary way, he would equally have gone against a principle, or part of his nature--namely, passion or appetite. But to deny a present appetite, from foresight that the gratification of it would end in immediate ruin or extreme misery, is by no means an unnatural action: whereas to contradict or go against cool self-love for the sake of such gratification is so in the instance before us. Such an action then being unnatural, and its being so not arising from a man's going against a principle or desire barely, nor in going against that principle or desire which happens for the present to be strongest, it necessarily follows that there must be some other difference or distinction to be made between these two principles, passion and cool self-love, than what I have yet taken notice of. And this difference, not being a difference in strength or degree, I call a difference in _nature_ and in _kind_. And since, in the instance still before us, if passion prevails over self- love the consequent action is unnatural, but if self-love prevails over passion the action is natural, it is manifest that self-love is in human nature a superior principle to passion. This may be contradicted without violating that nature; but the former cannot. So that, if we will act conformably to the economy of man's nature, reasonable self-love must govern. Thus, without particular consideration of conscience, we may have a clear conception of the _superior nature_ of one inward principle to another, and see that there really is this natural superiority, quite distinct from degrees of strength and prevalency. Let us now take a view of the nature of man, as consisting partly of various appetites, passions, affections, and partly of the principle of reflection or conscience, leaving quite out all consideration of the different degrees of strength in which either of them prevails, and it will further appear that there is this natural superiority of one inward principle to another, and that it is even part of the idea of reflection or conscience. Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency towards such and such objects, without distinction of the means by which they are to be obtained. Consequently it will often happen there will be a desire of particular objects, in cases where they cannot be obtained without manifest injury to others. Reflection or conscience comes in, need disapproves the pursuit of them in these circumstances; but the desire remains. Which is to be obeyed, appetite or reflection? Cannot this question be answered, from the economy and constitution of human nature merely, without saying which is strongest? Or need this at all come into consideration? Would not the question be _intelligibly_ and fully answered by saying that the principle of reflection or conscience being compared with the various appetites, passions, and affections in men, the former is manifestly superior and chief, without regard to strength? And how often soever the latter happens to prevail, it is mere _usurpation_: the former remains in nature and in kind its superior; and every instance of such prevalence of the latter is an instance of breaking in upon and violation of the constitution of man. All this is no more than the distinction, which everybody is acquainted with, between _mere power_ and _authority_: only instead of being intended to express the difference between what is possible and what is lawful in civil government, here it has been shown applicable to the several principles in the mind of man. Thus that principle by which we survey, and either approve or disapprove our own heart, temper, and actions, is not only to be considered as what is in its turn to have some influence--which may be said of every passion, of the lowest appetites--but likewise as being superior, as from its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all others, insomuch that you cannot form a notion of this faculty, conscience, without taking in judgment, direction, superintendency. This is a constituent part of the idea--that is, of the faculty itself; and to preside and govern, from the very economy and constitution of man, belongs to it. Had it strength, as it had right; had it power, as it had manifest authority, it would absolutely govern the world. This gives us a further view of the nature of man; shows us what course of life we were made for: not only that our real nature leads us to be influenced in some degree by reflection and conscience, but likewise in what degree we are to be influenced by it, if we will fall in with, and act agreeably to, the constitution of our nature: that this faculty was placed within to be our proper governor, to direct and regulate all under principles, passions, and motives of action. This is its right and office: thus sacred is its authority. And how often soever men violate and rebelliously refuse to submit to it, for supposed interest which they cannot otherwise obtain, or for the sake of passion which they cannot otherwise gratify--this makes no alteration as to the _natural right_ and _office_ of conscience. Let us now turn this whole matter another way, and suppose there was no such thing at all as this natural supremacy of conscience--that there was no distinction to be made between one inward principle and another, but only that of strength--and see what would be the consequence. Consider, then, what is the latitude and compass of the actions of man with regard to himself, his fellow-creatures, and the Supreme Being? What are their bounds, besides that of our natural power? With respect to the two first, they are plainly no other than these: no man seeks misery, as such, for himself; and no one unprovoked does mischief to another for its own sake. For in every degree within these bounds, mankind knowingly, from passion or wantonness, bring ruin and misery upon themselves and others. And impiety and profaneness--I mean what every one would call so who believes the being of God--have absolutely no bounds at all. Men blaspheme the Author of nature, formally and in words renounce their allegiance to their Creator. Put an instance, then, with respect to any one of these three. Though we should suppose profane swearing, and in general that kind of impiety now mentioned, to mean nothing, yet it implies wanton disregard and irreverence towards an infinite Being our Creator; and is this as suitable to the nature of man as reverence and dutiful submission of heart towards that Almighty Being? Or suppose a man guilty of parricide, with all the circumstances of cruelty which such an action can admit of. This action is done in consequence of its principle being for the present strongest; and if there be no difference between inward principles, but only that of strength, the strength being given you have the whole nature of the man given, so far as it relates to this matter. The action plainly corresponds to the principle, the principle being in that degree of strength it was: it therefore corresponds to the whole nature of the man. Upon comparing the action and the whole nature, there arises no disproportion, there appears no unsuitableness, between them. Thus the _murder of a father_ and the _nature of man_ correspond to each other, as the same nature and an act of filial duty. If there be no difference between inward principles, but only that of strength, we can make no distinction between these two actions, considered as the actions of such a creature; but in our coolest hours must approve or disapprove them equally: than which nothing can be reduced to a greater absurdity. SERMON III. The natural supremacy of reflection or conscience being thus established, we may from it form a distinct notion of what is meant by _human nature_ when virtue is said to consist in following it, and vice in deviating from it. As the idea of a civil constitution implies in it united strength, various subordinations under one direction--that of the supreme authority--the different strength of each particular member of the society not coming into the idea--whereas, if you leave out the subordination, the union, and the one direction, you destroy and lose it--so reason, several appetites, passions, and affections, prevailing in different degrees of strength, is not _that_ idea or notion of _human nature_; but _that nature_ consists in these several principles considered as having a natural respect to each other, in the several passions being naturally subordinate to the one superior principle of reflection or conscience. Every bias, instinct, propension within, is a natural part of our nature, but not the whole: add to these the superior faculty whose office it is to adjust, manage, and preside over them, and take in this its natural superiority, and you complete the idea of human nature. And as in civil government the constitution is broken in upon and violated by power and strength prevailing over authority; so the constitution of man is broken in upon and violated by the lower faculties or principles within prevailing over that which is in its nature supreme over them all. Thus, when it is said by ancient writers that tortures and death are not so contrary to human nature as injustice, by this, to be sure, is not meant that the aversion to the former in mankind is less strong and prevalent than their aversion to the latter, but that the former is only contrary to our nature considered in a partial view, and which takes in only the lowest part of it, that which we have in common with the brutes; whereas the latter is contrary to our nature, considered in a higher sense, as a system and constitution contrary to the whole economy of man. {7} And from all these things put together, nothing can be more evident than that, exclusive of revelation, man cannot be considered as a creature left by his Maker to act at random, and live at large up to the extent of his natural power, as passion, humour, wilfulness, happen to carry him, which is the condition brute creatures are in; but that _from his make_, _constitution_, _or nature_, _he is in the strictest and most proper sense a law to himself_. He hath the rule of right within: what is wanting is only that he honestly attend to it. The inquiries which have been made by men of leisure after some general rule, the conformity to or disagreement from which should denominate our actions good or evil, are in many respects of great service. Yet let any plain, honest man, before he engages in any course of action, ask himself, Is this I am going about right, or is it wrong? Is it good, or is it evil? I do not in the least doubt but that this question would be answered agreeably to truth and virtue, by almost any fair man in almost any circumstance. Neither do there appear any cases which look like exceptions to this, but those of superstition, and of partiality to ourselves. Superstition may perhaps be somewhat of an exception; but partiality to ourselves is not, this being itself dishonesty. For a man to judge that to be the equitable, the moderate, the right part for him to act, which he would see to be hard, unjust, oppressive in another, this is plain vice, and can proceed only from great unfairness of mind. But allowing that mankind hath the rule of right within himself, yet it may be asked, "What obligations are we under to attend to and follow it?" I answer: It has been proved that man by his nature is a law to himself, without the particular distinct consideration of the positive sanctions of that law: the rewards and punishments which we feel, and those which from the light of reason we have ground to believe, are annexed to it. The question, then, carries its own answer along within it. Your obligation to obey this law is its being the law of your nature. That your conscience approves of and attests to such a course of action is itself alone an obligation. Conscience does not only offer itself to show us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its own authority with it, that it is our natural guide; the guide assigned us by the Author of our nature: it therefore belongs to our condition of being; it is our duty to walk in that path, and follow this guide, without looking about to see whether we may not possibly forsake them with impunity. However, let us hear what is to be said against obeying this law of our nature. And the sum is no more than this: "Why should we be concerned about anything out of and beyond ourselves? If we do find within ourselves regards to others, and restraints of we know not how many different kinds, yet these being embarrassments, and hindering us from going the nearest way to our own good, why should we not endeavour to suppress and get over them?" Thus people go on with words, which when applied to human nature, and the condition in which it is placed in this world, have really no meaning. For does not all this kind of talk go upon supposition, that our happiness in this world consists in somewhat quite distinct from regard to others, and that it is the privilege of vice to be without restraint or confinement? Whereas, on the contrary, the enjoyments--in a manner all the common enjoyments of life, even the pleasures of vice--depend upon these regards of one kind or another to our fellow-creatures. Throw off all regards to others, and we should be quite indifferent to infamy and to honour; there could be no such thing at all as ambition; and scarce any such thing as covetousness; for we should likewise be equally indifferent to the disgrace of poverty, the several neglects and kinds of contempt which accompany this state, and to the reputation of riches, the regard and respect they usually procure. Neither is restraint by any means peculiar to one course of life; but our very nature, exclusive of conscience and our condition, lays us under an absolute necessity of it. We cannot gain any end whatever without being confined to the proper means, which is often the most painful and uneasy confinement. And in numberless instances a present appetite cannot be gratified without such apparent and immediate ruin and misery that the most dissolute man in the world chooses to forego the pleasure rather than endure the pain. Is the meaning, then, to indulge those regards to our fellow-creatures, and submit to those restraints which upon the whole are attended with more satisfaction than uneasiness, and get over only those which bring more uneasiness and inconvenience than satisfaction? "Doubtless this was our meaning." You have changed sides then. Keep to this; be consistent with yourselves, and you and the men of virtue are _in general_ perfectly agreed. But let us take care and avoid mistakes. Let it not be taken for granted that the temper of envy, rage, resentment, yields greater delight than meekness, forgiveness, compassion, and good-will; especially when it is acknowledged that rage, envy, resentment, are in themselves mere misery; and that satisfaction arising from the indulgence of them is little more than relief from that misery; whereas the temper of compassion and benevolence is itself delightful; and the indulgence of it, by doing good, affords new positive delight and enjoyment. Let it not be taken for granted that the satisfaction arising from the reputation of riches and power, however obtained, and from the respect paid to them, is greater than the satisfaction arising from the reputation of justice, honesty, charity, and the esteem which is universally acknowledged to be their due. And if it be doubtful which of these satisfactions is the greatest, as there are persons who think neither of them very considerable, yet there can be no doubt concerning ambition and covetousness, virtue and a good mind, considered in themselves, and as leading to different courses of life; there can, I say, be no doubt, which temper and which course is attended with most peace and tranquillity of mind, which with most perplexity, vexation, and inconvenience. And both the virtues and vices which have been now mentioned, do in a manner equally imply in them regards of one kind or another to our fellow-creatures. And with respect to restraint and confinement, whoever will consider the restraints from fear and shame, the dissimulation, mean arts of concealment, servile compliances, one or other of which belong to almost every course of vice, will soon be convinced that the man of virtue is by no means upon a disadvantage in this respect. How many instances are there in which men feel and own and cry aloud under the chains of vice with which they are enthralled, and which yet they will not shake off! How many instances, in which persons manifestly go through more pains and self-denial to gratify a vicious passion, than would have been necessary to the conquest of it! To this is to be added, that when virtue is become habitual, when the temper of it is acquired, what was before confinement ceases to be so by becoming choice and delight. Whatever restraint and guard upon ourselves may be needful to unlearn any unnatural distortion or odd gesture, yet in all propriety of speech, natural behaviour must be the most easy and unrestrained. It is manifest that, in the common course of life, there is seldom any inconsistency between our duty and what is _called_ interest: it is much seldomer that there is an inconsistency between duty and what is really our present interest; meaning by interest, happiness and satisfaction. Self-love, then, though confined to the interest of the present world, does in general perfectly coincide with virtue, and leads us to one and the same course of life. But, whatever exceptions there are to this, which are much fewer than they are commonly thought, all shall be set right at the final distribution of things. It is a manifest absurdity to suppose evil prevailing finally over good, under the conduct and administration of a perfect mined. The whole argument, which I have been now insisting upon, may be thus summed up, and given you in one view. The nature of man is adapted to some course of action or other. Upon comparing some actions with this nature, they appear suitable and correspondent to it: from comparison of other actions with the same nature, there arises to our view some unsuitableness or disproportion. The correspondence of actions to the nature of the agent renders them natural; their disproportion to it, unnatural. That an action is correspondent to the nature of the agent does not arise from its being agreeable to the principle which happens to be the strongest: for it may be so and yet be quite disproportionate to the nature of the agent. The correspondence therefore, or disproportion, arises from somewhat else. This can be nothing but a difference in nature and kind, altogether distinct from strength, between the inward principles. Some then are in nature and kind superior to others. And the correspondence arises from the action being conformable to the higher principle; and the unsuitableness from its being contrary to it. Reasonable self-love and conscience are the chief or superior principles in the nature of man; because an action may be suitable to this nature, though all other principles be violated, but becomes unsuitable if either of those are. Conscience and self-love, if we understand our true happiness, always lead us the same way. Duty and interest are perfectly coincident; for the most part in this world, but entirely and in every instance if we take in the future and the whole; this being implied in the notion of a good and perfect administration of things. Thus they who have been so wise in their generation as to regard only their own supposed interest, at the expense and to the injury of others, shall at last find, that he who has given up all the advantages of the present world, rather than violate his conscience and the relations of life, has infinitely better provided for himself, and secured his owns interest and happiness. SERMON IV. UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE. JAMES i. 26. _If any man among you seem to be religious_, _and bridleth not his tongue_, _but deceiveth his own heart_, _this man's religion is vain_. The translation of this text would be more determinate by being more literal, thus: _If any man among you seemeth to be religious_, _not bridling his tongue_, _but deceiving his own heart_, _this man's religion is vain_. This determines that the words, _but deceiveth his own heart_, are not put in opposition to _seemeth to be religious_, but to _bridleth not his tongue_. The certain determinate meaning of the text then being, that he who seemeth to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but in that particular deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain, we may observe somewhat very forcible and expressive in these words of St. James. As if the apostle had said, No man surely can make any pretences to religion, who does not at least believe that he bridleth his tongue: if he puts on any appearance or face of religion, and yet does not govern his tongue, he must surely deceive himself in that particular, and think he does; and whoever is so unhappy as to deceive himself in this, to imagine he keeps that unruly faculty in due subjection when indeed he does not, whatever the other part of his life be, his religion is vain; the government of the tongue being a most material restraint which virtue lays us under: without it no man can be truly religious. In treating upon this subject, I will consider, First, what is the general vice or fault here referred to; or what disposition in men is supposed in moral reflections and precepts concerning _bridling the tongue_. Secondly, when it may be said of any one, that he has a due government over himself in this respect. I. Now, the fault referred to, and the disposition supposed, in precepts and reflections concerning the government of the tongue, is not evil-speaking from malice, nor lying or bearing false witness from indirect selfish designs. The disposition to these, and the actual vices themselves, all come under other subjects. The tongue may be employed about, and made to serve all the purposes of vice, in tempting and deceiving, in perjury and injustice. But the thing here supposed and referred to, is talkativeness: a disposition to be talking, abstracted from the consideration of what is to be said; with very little or no regard to, or thought of doing, either good or harm. And let not any imagine this to be a slight matter, and that it deserves not to have so great weight laid upon it, till he has considered what evil is implied in it, and the bad effects which follow from it. It is perhaps true, that they who are addicted to this folly would choose to confine themselves to trifles and indifferent subjects, and so intend only to be guilty of being impertinent: but as they cannot go on for ever talking of nothing, as common matters will not afford a sufficient fund for perpetual continued discourse, where subjects of this kind are exhausted they will go on to defamation, scandal, divulging of secrets, their own secrets as well as those of others--anything rather than be silent. They are plainly hurried on in the heat of their talk to say quite different things from what they first intended, and which they afterwards wish unsaid: or improper things, which they had no other end in saying, but only to afford employment to their tongue. And if these people expect to be heard and regarded--for there are some content merely with talking--they will invent to engage your attention: and, when they have heard the least imperfect hint of an affair, they will out of their own head add the circumstances of time and place and other matters to make out their story and give the appearance of probability to it: not that they have any concern about being believed, otherwise than as a means of being heard. The thing is, to engage your attention; to take you up wholly for the present time: what reflections will be made afterwards, is in truth the least of their thoughts. And further, when persons who indulge themselves in these liberties of the tongue are in any degree offended with another--as little disgusts and misunderstandings will be--they allow themselves to defame and revile such a one without any moderation or bounds; though the offence is so very slight, that they themselves would not do, nor perhaps wish him, an injury in any other way. And in this case the scandal and revilings are chiefly owing to talkativeness, and not bridling their tongue, and so come under our present subject. The least occasion in the world will make the humour break out in this particular way or in another. It as like a torrent, which must and will flow; but the least thing imaginable will first of all give it either this or another direction, turn it into this or that channel: or like a fire--the nature of which, when in a heap of combustible matter, is to spread and lay waste all around; but any one of a thousand little accidents will occasion it to break out first either in this or another particular part. The subject then before us, though it does run up into, and can scarce be treated as entirely distinct from all others, yet it needs not be so much mixed or blended with them as it often is. Every faculty and power may be used as the instrument of premeditated vice and wickedness, merely as the most proper and effectual means of executing such designs. But if a man, from deep malice and desire of revenge, should meditate a falsehood with a settled design to ruin his neighbour's reputation, and should with great coolness and deliberation spread it, nobody would choose to say of such a one that he had no government of his tongue. A man may use the faculty of speech as an instrument of false witness, who yet has so entire a command over that faculty as never to speak but from forethought and cool design. Here the crime is injustice and perjury, and, strictly speaking, no more belongs to the present subject than perjury and injustice in any other way. But there is such a thing as a disposition to be talking for its own sake; from which persons often say anything, good or bad, of others, merely as a subject of discourse, according to the particular temper they themselves happen to be in, and to pass away the present time. There is likewise to be observed in persons such a strong and eager desire of engaging attention to what they say, that they will speak good or evil, truth or otherwise, merely as one or the other seems to be most hearkened to: and this though it is sometimes joined, is not the same with the desire of being thought important and men of consequence. There is in some such a disposition to be talking, that an offence of the slightest kind, and such as would not raise any other resentment, yet raises, if I may so speak, the resentment of the tongue--puts it into a flame, into the most ungovernable motions. This outrage, when the person it respects is present, we distinguish in the lower rank of people by a peculiar term: and let it be observed, that though the decencies of behaviour are a little kept, the same outrage and virulence, indulged when he is absent, is an offence of the same kind. But, not to distinguish any further in this manner, men race into faults and follies which cannot so properly be referred to any one general head as this--that they have not a due government over their tongue. And this unrestrained volubility and wantonness of speech is the occasion of numberless evils and vexations in life. It begets resentment in him who is the subject of it, sows the seed of strife and dissension amongst others, and inflames little disgusts and offences which if let alone would wear away of themselves: it is often of as bad effect upon the good name of others, as deep envy or malice: and to say the least of it in this respect, it destroys and perverts a certain equity of the utmost importance to society to be observed--namely, that praise and dispraise, a good or bad character, should always be bestowed according to desert. The tongue used in such a licentious manner is like a sword in the hand of a madman; it is employed at random, it can scarce possibly do any good, and for the most part does a world of mischief; and implies not only great folly and a trifling spirit, but great viciousness of mind, great indifference to truth and falsity, and to the reputation, welfare, and good of others. So much reason is there for what St. James says of the tongue, _It is a fire_, _a world of iniquity_, _it defileth the whole body_, _setteth on fire the course of nature_, _and is itself set on fire of hell_. {8} This is the faculty or disposition which we are required to keep a guard upon: these are the vices and follies it runs into when not kept under due restraint. II. Wherein the due government of the tongue consists, or when it may be said of any one in a moral and religious sense that he _bridleth his tongue_, I come now to consider. The due and proper use of any natural faculty or power is to be judged of by the end and design for which it was given us. The chief purpose for which the faculty of speech was given to man is plainly that we might communicate our thoughts to each other, in order to carry on the affairs of the world; for business, and for our improvement in knowledge and learning. But the good Author of our nature designed us not only necessaries, but likewise enjoyment and satisfaction, in that being He hath graciously given, and in that condition of life He hath placed us in. There are secondary uses of our faculties: they administer to delight, as well as to necessity; and as they are equally-adapted to both, there is no doubt but He intended them for our gratification as well as for the support and continuance of our being. The secondary use of speech is to please and be entertaining to each other in conversation. This is in every respect allowable and right; it unites men closer in alliances and friendships; gives us a fellow-feeling of the prosperity and unhappiness of each other; and is in several respects servicable to virtue, and to promote good behaviour in the world. And provided there be not too much time spent in it, if it were considered only in the way of gratification and delight, men must have strange notion of God and of religion to think that He can be offended with it, or that it is any way inconsistent with the strictest virtue. But the truth is, such sort of conversation, though it has no particular good tendency, yet it has a general good one; it is social and friendly, and tends to promote humanity, good-nature, and civility. As the end and use, so likewise the abuse of speech, relates to the one or other of these: either to business or to conversation. As to the former: deceit in the management of business and affairs does not properly belong to the subject now before us: though one may just mention that multitude, that heedless number of words with which business is perplexed, where a much fewer would, as it should seem, better serve the purpose; but this must be left to those who understand the matter. The government of the tongue, considered as a subject of itself, relates chiefly to conversation; to that kind of discourse which usually fills up the time spent in friendly meetings and visits of civility. And the danger is, lest persons entertain themselves and others at the expense of their wisdom and their virtue, and to the injury or offence of their neighbour. If they will observe and keep clear of these, they may be as free and easy and unreserved as they can desire. The cautions to be given for avoiding these dangers, and to render conversation innocent and agreeable, fall under the following particulars: silence; talking of indifferent things; and, which makes up too great a part of conversation, giving of characters, speaking well or evil of others. The Wise Man observes that "there is a time to speak, and a time to keep silence." One meets with people in the world who seem never to have made the last of these observations. And yet these great talkers do not at all speak from their having anything to say, as every sentence shows, but only from their inclination to be talking. Their conversation is merely an exercise of the tongue: no other human faculty has any share in it. It is strange these persons can help reflecting, that unless they have in truth a superior capacity, and are in an extraordinary manner furnished for conversation if they are entertaining, it is at their own expense. Is it possible that it should never come into people's thoughts to suspect whether or no it be to their advantage to show so very much of themselves? "O that you would altogether hold your peace, and it should be your wisdom." {9} Remember likewise there are persons who love fewer words, an inoffensive sort of people, and who deserve some regard, though of too still and composed tempers for you. Of this number was the Son of Sirach: for he plainly speaks from experience when he says, "As hills of sand are to the steps of the aged, so is one of many words to a quiet man." But one would think it should be obvious to every one, that when they are in company with their superiors of any kind--in years, knowledge, and experience--when proper and useful subjects are discoursed of, which they cannot bear a part in, that these are times for silence, when they should learn to hear, and be attentive, at least in their turn. It is indeed a very unhappy way these people are in; they in a manner cut themselves out from all advantage of conversation, except that of being entertained with their own talk: their business in coming into company not being at all to be informed, to hear, to learn, but to display themselves, or rather to exert their faculty, and talk without any design at all. And if we consider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat to unbend the mind, as a diversion from the cares, the business, and the sorrows of life, it is of the very nature of it that the discourse be mutual. This, I say, is implied in the very notion of what we distinguish by conversation, or being in company. Attention to the continued discourse of one alone grows more painful, often, than the cares and business we come to be diverted from. He, therefore, who imposes this upon us is guilty of a double offence--arbitrarily enjoining silence upon all the rest, and likewise obliging them to this painful attention. I am sensible these things are apt to be passed over, as too little to come into a serious discourse; but in reality men are obliged, even in point of morality and virtue, to observe all the decencies of behaviour. The greatest evils in life have had their rise from somewhat which was thought of too little importance to be attended to. And as to the matter we are now upon, it is absolutely necessary to be considered. For if people will not maintain a due government over themselves, in regarding proper times and seasons for silence, but _will_ be talking, they certainly, whether they design it or not at first, will go on to scandal and evil-speaking, and divulging secrets. If it were needful to say anything further to persuade men to learn this lesson of silence, one might put them in mind how insignificant they render themselves by this excessive talkativeness: insomuch that, if they do chance to say anything which deserves to be attended to and regarded, it is lost in the variety and abundance which they utter of another sort. The occasions of silence then are obvious, and one would think should be easily distinguished by everybody: namely, when a man has nothing to say; or nothing but what is better unsaid: better, either in regard to the particular persons he is present with; or from its being an interruption to conversation itself; or to conversation of a more agreeable kind; or better, lastly, with regard to himself. I will end this particular with two reflections of the Wise Man; one of which, in the strongest manner, exposes the ridiculous part of this licentiousness of the tongue; and the other, the great danger and viciousness of it. _When he that is a fool walketh by the way side_, _his wisdom faileth him_, _and he saith to every one that he is a fool_. {10} The other is, _In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin_. {11} As to the government of the tongue in respect to talking upon indifferent subjects: after what has been said concerning the due government of it in respect to the occasions and times for silence, there is little more necessary than only to caution men to be fully satisfied that the subjects are indeed of an indifferent nature; and not to spend too much time in conversation of this kind. But persons must be sure to take heed that the subject of their discourse be at least of an indifferent nature: that it be no way offensive to virtue, religion, or good manners: that it be not of a licentious, dissolute sort, this leaving always ill impressions upon the mind; that it be no way injurious or vexatious to others; and that too much time be not spent this way, to the neglect of those duties and offices of life which belong to their station and condition in the world. However, though there is not any necessity that men should aim at being important and weighty in every sentence they speak: yet since useful subjects, at least of some kinds, are as entertaining as others, a wise man, even when he desires to unbend his mind from business, would choose that the conversation might turn upon somewhat instructive. The last thing is, the government of the tongue as relating to discourse of the affairs of others, and giving of characters. These are in a manner the same; and one can scarce call it an indifferent subject, because discourse upon it almost perpetually runs into somewhat criminal. And, first of all, it were very much to be wished that this did not take up so great a part of conversation; because it is indeed a subject of a dangerous nature. Let any one consider the various interests, competitions, and little misunderstandings which arise amongst men; and he will soon see that he is not unprejudiced and impartial; that he is not, as I may speak, neutral enough to trust himself with talking of the character and concerns of his neighbour, in a free, careless, and unreserved manner. There is perpetually, and often it is not attended to, a rivalship amongst people of one kind or another in respect to wit, beauty, learning, fortune, and that one thing will insensibly influence them to speak to the disadvantage of others, even where there is no formed malice or ill-design. Since therefore it is so hard to enter into this subject without offending, the first thing to be observed is that people should learn to decline it; to get over that strong inclination most have to be talking of the concerns and behaviour of their neighbour. But since it is impossible that this subject should be wholly excluded conversation; and since it is necessary that the characters of men should be known: the next thing is that it is a matter of importance what is said; and, therefore, that we should be religiously scrupulous and exact to say nothing, either good or bad, but what is true. I put it thus, because it is in reality of as great importance to the good of society, that the characters of bad men should be known, as that the characters of good men should. People who are given to scandal and detraction may indeed make an ill-use of this observation; but truths, which are of service towards regulating our conduct, are not to be disowned, or even concealed, because a bad use may be made of them. This however would be effectually prevented if these two things were attended to. First, That, though it is equally of bad consequence to society that men should have either good or ill characters which they do not deserve; yet, when you say somewhat good of a man which he does not deserve, there is no wrong done him in particular; whereas, when you say evil of a man which he does not deserve, here is a direct formal injury, a real piece of injustice done him. This therefore makes a wide difference; and gives us, in point of virtue, much greater latitude in speaking well than ill of others. Secondly, A good man is friendly to his fellow-creatures, and a lover of mankind; and so will, upon every occasion, and often without any, say all the good he can of everybody; but, so far as he is a good man, will never be disposed to speak evil of any, unless there be some other reason for it, besides, barely that it is true. If he be charged with having given an ill character, he will scarce think it a sufficient justification of himself to say it was a true one, unless he can also give some further account how he came to do so: a just indignation against particular instances of villainy, where they are great and scandalous; or to prevent an innocent man from being deceived and betrayed, when he has great trust and confidence in one who does not deserve it. Justice must be done to every part of a subject when we are considering it. If there be a man, who bears a fair character in the world, whom yet we know to be without faith or honesty, to be really an ill man; it must be allowed in general that we shall do a piece of service to society by letting such a one's true character be known. This is no more than what we have an instance of in our Saviour himself; {12} though He was mild and gentle beyond example. However, no words can express too strongly the caution which should be used in such a case as this. Upon the whole matter: If people would observe the obvious occasions of silence, if they would subdue the inclination to tale-bearing, and that eager desire to engage attention, which is an original disease in some minds, they would be in little danger of offending with their tongue; and would, in a moral and religious sense, have due government over it. I will conclude with some precepts and reflections of the Son of Sirach upon this subject. _Be swift to hear_; _and_, _if thou hast understanding_, _answer thy neighbour_; _if not_, _lay thy hand upon thy mouth_. _Honour and shame is in talk_. _A man of an ill tongue is dangerous in his city_, _and he that is rash in his talk shall be hated_. _A wise man wilt hold his tongue till he see opportunity_; _but a babbler and a fool will regard no time_. _He that useth many words shall be abhorred_; _and he that taketh to himself authority therein shall be hated_. _A backbiting tongue hath disquieted many_; _strong cities hath it pulled down_, _and overthrown the houses of great men_. _The tongue of a man is his fall_; _but if thou love to hear_, _thou shall receive understanding_. SERMON V. UPON COMPASSION. ROM. xii. 15. _Rejoice with them that do rejoice_, _and weep with them that weep_. Every man is to be considered in two capacities, the private and public; as designed to pursue his own interest, and likewise to contribute to the good of others. Whoever will consider may see that, in general, there is no contrariety between these; but that from the original constitution of man, and the circumstances he is placed in, they perfectly coincide, and mutually carry on each other. But, among the great variety of affections or principles of actions in our nature, some in their primary intention and design seem to belong to the single or private, others to the public or social capacity. The affections required in the text are of the latter sort. When we rejoice in the prosperity of others, and compassionate their distresses, we as it were substitute them for ourselves, their interest for our own; and have the same kind of pleasure in their prosperity, and sorrow in their distress, as we have from reflection upon our own. Now there is nothing strange or unaccountable in our being thus carried out, and affected towards the interests of others. For, if there be any appetite, or any inward principle besides self-love; why may there not be an affection to the good of our fellow- creatures, and delight from that affection's being gratified, and uneasiness from things going contrary to it? {13} Of these two, delight in the prosperity of others, and compassion for their distresses, the last is felt much more generally than the former. Though men do not universally rejoice with all whom they see rejoice, yet, accidental obstacles removed, they naturally compassionate all, in some degree, whom they see in distress; so far as they have any real perception or sense of that distress: insomuch that words expressing this latter, pity, compassion, frequently occur: whereas we have scarce any single one by which the former is distinctly expressed. Congratulation indeed answers condolence: but both these words are intended to signify certain forms of civility rather than any inward sensation or feeling. This difference or inequality is so remarkable that we plainly consider compassion as itself an original, distinct, particular affection in human nature; whereas to rejoice in the good of others is only a consequence of the general affection of love and good-will to them. The reason and account of which matter is this: when a man has obtained any particular advantage or felicity, his end is gained; and he does not in that particular want the assistance of another: there was therefore no need of a distinct affection towards that felicity of another already obtained; neither would such affection directly carry him on to do good to that person: whereas men in distress want assistance; and compassion leads us directly to assist them. The object of the former is the present felicity of another; the object of the latter is the present misery of another. It is easy to see that the latter wants a particular affection for its relief, and that the former does not want one because it does not want assistance. And upon supposition of a distinct affection in both cases, the one must rest in the exercise of itself, having nothing further to gain; the other does not rest in itself, but carries us on to assist the distressed. But, supposing these affections natural to the mind, particularly the last; "Has not each man troubles enough of his own? must he indulge an affection which appropriates to himself those of others? which leads him to contract the least desirable of all friendships, friendships with the unfortunate? Must we invert the known rule of prudence, and choose to associate ourselves with the distressed? or, allowing that we ought, so far as it is in our power to relieve them, yet is it not better to do this from reason and duty? Does not passion and affection of every kind perpetually mislead us? Nay, is not passion and affection itself a weakness, and what a perfect being must be entirely free from?" Perhaps so, but it is mankind I am speaking of; imperfect creatures, and who naturally and, from the condition we are placed in, necessarily depend upon each other. With respect to such creatures, it would be found of as bad consequence to eradicate all natural affections as to be entirely governed by them. This would almost sink us to the condition of brutes; and that would leave us without a sufficient principle of action. Reason alone, whatever any one may wish, is not in reality a sufficient motive of virtue in such a creature as man; but this reason joined with those affections which God has impressed upon his heart, and when these are allowed scope to exercise themselves, but under strict government and direction of reason, then it is we act suitably to our nature, and to the circumstances God has placed us in. Neither is affection itself at all a weakness; nor does it argue defect, any otherwise than as our senses and appetites do; they belong to our condition of nature, and are what we cannot be without. God Almighty is, to be sure, unmoved by passion or appetite, unchanged by affection; but then it is to be added that He neither sees nor hears nor perceives things by any senses like ours; but in a manner infinitely more perfect. Now, as it is an absurdity almost too gross to be mentioned, for a man to endeavour to get rid of his senses, because the Supreme Being discerns things more perfectly without them; it is as real, though not so obvious an absurdity, to endeavour to eradicate the passions He has given us, because He is without them. For, since our passions are as really a part of our constitution as our senses; since the former as really belong to our condition of nature as the latter; to get rid of either is equally a violation of and breaking in upon that nature and constitution He has given us. Both our senses and our passions are a supply to the imperfection of our nature; thus they show that we are such sort of creatures as to stand in need of those helps which higher orders of creatures do not. But it is not the supply, but the deficiency; as it is not a remedy, but a disease, which is the imperfection. However, our appetites, passions, senses, no way imply disease: nor indeed do they imply deficiency or imperfection of any sort; but only this, that the constitution of nature, according to which God has made us, is such as to require them. And it is so far from being true, that a wise man must entirely suppress compassion, and all fellow- feeling for others, as a weakness; and trust to reason alone to teach and enforce upon him the practice of the several charities we owe to our kind; that, on the contrary, even the bare exercise of such affections would itself be for the good and happiness of the world; and the imperfection of the higher principles of reason and religion in man, the little influence they have upon our practice, and the strength and prevalency of contrary ones, plainly require these affections to be a restraint upon these latter, and a supply to the deficiencies of the former. First, The very exercise itself of these affections in a just and reasonable manner and degree would upon the whole increase the satisfactions and lessen the miseries of life. It is the tendency and business of virtue and religion to procure, as much as may be, universal good-will, trust, and friendship amongst mankind. If this could be brought to obtain; and each man enjoyed the happiness of others, as every one does that of a friend; and looked upon the success and prosperity of his neighbour as every one does upon that of his children and family; it is too manifest to be insisted upon how much the enjoyments of life would be increased. There would be so much happiness introduced into the world, without any deduction or inconvenience from it, in proportion as the precept of _rejoicing with those who rejoice_ was universally obeyed. Our Saviour has owned this good affection as belonging to our nature in the parable of the _lost sheep_, and does not think it to the disadvantage of a perfect state to represent its happiness as capable of increase from reflection upon that of others. But since in such a creature as man, compassion or sorrow for the distress of others seems so far necessarily connected with joy in their prosperity, as that whoever rejoices in one must unavoidably compassionate the other; there cannot be that delight or satisfaction, which appears to be so considerable, without the inconveniences, whatever they are, of compassion. However, without considering this connection, there is no doubt but that more good than evil, more delight than sorrow, arises from compassion itself; there being so many things which balance the sorrow of it. There is first the relief which the distressed feel from this affection in others towards them. There is likewise the additional misery which they would feel from the reflection that no one commiserated their case. It is indeed true that any disposition, prevailing beyond a certain degree, becomes somewhat wrong; and we have ways of speaking, which, though they do not directly express that excess, yet always lead our thoughts to it, and give us the notion of it. Thus, when mention is made of delight in being pitied, this always conveys to our mind the notion of somewhat which is really a weakness. The manner of speaking, I say, implies a certain weakness and feebleness of mind, which is and ought to be disapproved. But men of the greatest fortitude would in distress feel uneasiness from knowing that no person in the world had any sort of compassion or real concern for them; and in some cases, especially when the temper is enfeebled by sickness, or any long and great distress, doubtless, would feel a kind of relief even from the helpless goodwill and ineffectual assistances of those about them. Over against the sorrow of compassion is likewise to be set a peculiar calm kind of satisfaction, which accompanies it, unless in cases where the distress of another is by some means so brought home to ourselves as to become in a manner our own; or when from weakness of mind the affection rises too high, which ought to be corrected. This tranquillity, or calm satisfaction, proceeds partly from consciousness of a right affection and temper of mind, and partly from a sense of our own freedom from the misery we compassionate. This last may possibly appear to some at first sight faulty; but it really is not so. It is the same with that positive enjoyment, which sudden ease from pain for the present affords, arising from a real sense of misery, joined with a sense of our freedom from it; which in all cases must afford some degree of satisfaction. To these things must be added the observation which respects both the affections we are considering; that they who have got over all fellow- feeling for others have withal contracted a certain callousness of heart, which renders them insensible to most other satisfactions but those of the grossest kind. Secondly, Without the exercise of these affections men would certainly be much more wanting in the offices of charity they owe to cache other, and likewise more cruel and injurious than they are at present. The private interest of the individual would not be sufficiently provided for by reasonable and cool self-love alone; therefore the appetites and passions are placed within as a guard and further security, without which it would not be taken due care of. It is manifest our life would be neglected were it not for the calls of hunger and thirst and weariness; notwithstanding that without them reason would assure us that the recruits of food and sleep are the necessary means of our preservation. It is therefore absurd to imagine that, without affections, the same reason alone would be more effectual to engage us to perform the duties we owe to our fellow-creatures. One of this make would be as defective, as much wanting, considered with respect to society, as one of the former make would be defective, or wanting, considered as an individual, or in his private capacity. Is it possible any can in earnest think that a public spirit, _i.e._, a settled reasonable principle of benevolence to mankind, is so prevalent and strong in the species as that we may venture to throw off the under affections, which are its assistants, carry it forward and mark out particular courses for it; family, friends, neighbourhood, the distressed, our country? The common joys and the common sorrows, which belong to these relations and circumstances, are as plainly useful to society as the pain and pleasure belonging to hunger, thirst, and weariness are of service to the individual. In defect of that higher principle of reason, compassion is often the only way by which the indigent can have access to us: and therefore, to eradicate this, though it is not indeed formally to deny them that assistance which is their due; yet it is to cut them off from that which is too frequently their only way of obtaining it. And as for those who have shut up this door against the complaints of the miserable, and conquered this affection in themselves; even these persons will be under great restraints from the same affection in others. Thus a man who has himself no sense of injustice, cruelty, oppression, will be kept from running the utmost lengths of wickedness by fear of that detestation, and even resentment of inhumanity, in many particular instances of it, which compassion for the object towards whom such inhumanity is exercised, excites in the bulk of mankind. And this is frequently the chief danger and the chief restraint which tyrants and the great oppressors of the world feel. In general, experience will show that, as want of natural appetite to food supposes and proceeds from some bodily disease; so the apathy the Stoics talk of as much supposes, or is accompanied with, somewhat amiss in the moral character, in that which is the health of the mind. Those who formerly aimed at this upon the foot of philosophy appear to have had better success in eradicating the affections of tenderness and compassion than they had with the passions of envy, pride, and resentment: these latter, at best, were but concealed, and that imperfectly too. How far this observation may be extended to such as endeavour to suppress the natural impulses of their affections, in order to form themselves for business and the world, I shall not determine. But there does not appear any capacity or relation to be named, in which men ought to be entirely deaf to the calls of affection, unless the judicial one is to be excepted. And as to those who are commonly called the men of pleasure, it is manifest that the reason they set up for hardness of heart is to avoid being interrupted in their course by the ruin and misery they are the authors of; neither are persons of this character always the most free from the impotencies of envy and resentment. What may men at last bring themselves to, by suppressing their passions and affections of one kind, and leaving those of the other in their full strength? But surely it might be expected that persons who make pleasure their study and their business, if they understood what they profess, would reflect, how many of the entertainments of life, how many of those kind of amusements which seem peculiarly to belong to men of leisure and education they became insensible to by this acquired hardness of heart. I shall close these reflections with barely mentioning the behaviour of that divine Person, who was the example of all perfection in human nature, as represented in the Gospels mourning, and even, in a literal sense, weeping over the distresses of His creatures. The observation already made, that, of the two affections mentioned in the text, the latter exerts itself much more than the former; that, from the original constitution of human nature, we much more generally and sensibly compassionate the distressed than rejoice within the prosperous, requires to be particularly considered. This observation, therefore, with the reflections which arise out of it, and which it leads our thoughts to, shall be the subject of another discourse. For the conclusion of this, let me just take notice of the danger of over- great refinements; of going beside or beyond the plain, obvious, first appearances of things, upon the subject of morals and religion. The least observation will show how little the generality of men are capable of speculations. Therefore morality and religion must be somewhat plan and easy to be understood: it must appeal to what we call plain common sense, as distinguished from superior capacity and improvement; because it appeals to mankind. Persons of superior capacity and improvement have often fallen into errors which no one of mere common understanding could. Is it possible that one of this latter character could even of himself have thought that there was absolutely no such thing in mankind as affection to the good of others? suppose of parents to their children; or that what he felt upon seeing a friend in distress was only fear for himself; or, upon supposition of the affections of kindness and compassion, that it was the business of wisdom and virtue to set him about extirpating them as fast as he could? And yet each of these manifest contradictions to nature has been laid down by men of speculation as a discovery in moral philosophy; which they, it seems, have found out through all the specious appearances to the contrary. This reflection may be extended further. The extravagances of enthusiasm and superstition do not at all lie in the road of common sense; and therefore, so far as they are _original mistakes_, must be owing to going beside or beyond it. Now, since inquiry and examination can relate only to things so obscure and uncertain as to stand in need of it, and to persons who are capable of it; the proper advice to be given to plain honest men, to secure them from the extremes both of superstition and irreligion, is that of the Son of Sirach: _In every good work trust thy own soul_; _for this is the keeping of the commandment_. {14} SERMON VI. UPON COMPASSION. PREACHED THE FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT. Rom. xii. 15. _Rejoice with then that do rejoice_, _and weep with them that weep_. There is a much more exact correspondence between the natural and moral world than we are apt to take notice of. The inward frame of man does in a peculiar manner answer to the external condition and circumstances of life in which he is placed. This is a particular instance of that general observation of the Son of Sirach: _All things are double one against another_, _and God hath made nothing imperfect_. {15} The several passions and affections in the heart of man, compared with the circumstances of life in which he is placed, afford, to such as will attend to them, as certain instances of final causes, as any whatever, which are more commonly alleged for such: since those affections lead him to a certain determinate course of action suitable to those circumstances; as (for instance) compassion to relieve the distressed. And as all observations of final causes, drawn from the principles of action in the heart of man, compared with the condition he is placed in, serve all the good uses which instances of final causes in the material world about us do; and both these are equally proofs of wisdom and design in the Author of nature: so the former serve to further good purposes; they show us what course of life we are made for, what is our duty, and in a peculiar manner enforce upon us the practice of it. Suppose we are capable of happiness and of misery in degrees equally intense and extreme, yet, we are capable of the latter for a much longer time, beyond all comparison. We see men in the tortures of pain for hours, days, and, excepting the short suspensions of sleep, for months together, without intermission, to which no enjoyments of life do, in degree and continuance, bear any sort of proportion. And such is our make and that of the world about us that any thing may become the instrument of pain and sorrow to us. Thus almost any one man is capable of doing mischief to any other, though he may not be capable of doing him good; and if he be capable of doing him some good, he is capable of doing him more evil. And it is, in numberless cases, much more in our power to lessen the miseries of others than to promote their positive happiness, any otherwise than as the former often includes the latter; ease from misery occasioning for some time the greatest positive enjoyment. This constitution of nature, namely, that it is so munch more in our power to occasion and likewise to lessen misery than to promote positive happiness, plainly required a particular affection to hinder us from abusing, and to incline us to make a right use of the former powers, _i.e._, the powers both to occasion and to lessen misery; over and above what was necessary to induce us to make a right use of the latter power, that of promoting positive happiness. The power we have over the misery of our fellow-creatures, to occasion or lessen it, being a more important trust than the power we have of promoting their positive happiness; the former requires and has a further, an additional, security and guard against its being violated, beyond and over and above what the latter has. The social nature of man, and general goodwill to his species, equally prevent him from doing evil, incline him to relieve the distressed, and to promote the positive happiness of his fellow-creatures; but compassion only restrains from the first, and carries him to the second; it hath nothing to do with the third. The final causes, then, of compassion are to prevent and to relieve misery. As to the former: this affection may plainly be a restraint upon resentment, envy, unreasonable self-love; that is, upon all the principles from which men do evil to one another. Let us instance only in resentment. It seldom happens, in regulated societies, that men have an enemy so entirely in their power as to be able to satiate their resentment with safety. But if we were to put this case, it is plainly supposable that a person might bring his enemy into such a condition, as from being the object of anger and rage, to become an object of compassion, even to himself, though the most malicious man in the world; and in this case compassion would stop him, if he could stop with safety, from pursuing his revenge any further. But since nature has placed within us more powerful restraints to prevent mischief, and since the final cause of compassion is much more to relieve misery, let us go on to the consideration of it in this view. As this world was not intended to be a state of any great satisfaction or high enjoyment, so neither was it intended to be a mere scene of unhappiness and sorrow. Mitigations and reliefs are provided by the merciful Author of nature for most of the afflictions in human life. There is kind provision made even against our frailties: as we are so constituted that time abundantly abates our sorrows, and begets in us that resignment of temper, which ought to have been produced by a better cause; a due sense of the authority of God, and our state of dependence. This holds in respect too far the greatest part of the evils of life; I suppose, in some degree, as to pain and sickness. Now this part of the constitution or make of man, considered as some relief to misery, and not as provision for positive happiness, is, if I may so speak, an instance of nature's compassion for us; and every natural remedy or relief to misery may be considered in the same view. But since in many cases it is very much in our power to alleviate the miseries of each other; and benevolence, though natural in man to man, yet is in a very low degree kept down by interest and competitions; and men, for the most part, are so engaged in the business and pleasures of the world, as to overlook and turn away from objects of misery; which are plainly considered as interruptions to them in their way, as intruders upon their business, their gaiety, and mirth: compassion is an advocate within us in their behalf, to gain the unhappy admittance and access, to make their case attended to. If it sometimes serves a contrary purpose, and makes men industriously turn away from the miserable, these are only instances of abuse and perversion: for the end, for which the affection was given us, most certainly is not to make us avoid, but to make us attend to, the objects of it. And if men would only resolve to allow thus much to it: let it bring before their view, the view of their mind, the miseries of their fellow-creatures; let it gain for them that their case be considered; I am persuaded it would not fail of gaining more, and that very few real objects of charity would pass unrelieved. Pain and sorrow and misery have a right to our assistance: compassion puts us in mind of the debt, and that we owe it to ourselves as well as to the distressed. For, to endeavour to get rid of the sorrow of compassion by turning from the wretched, when yet it is in our power to relieve them, is as unnatural as to endeavour to get rid of the pain of hunger by keeping from the sight of food. That we can do one with greater success than we can the other is no proof that one is less a violation of nature than the other. Compassion is a call, a demand of nature, to relieve the unhappy as hunger is a natural call for food. This affection plainly gives the objects of it an additional claim to relief and mercy, over and above what our fellow-creatures in common have to our goodwill. Liberality and bounty are exceedingly commendable; and a particular distinction in such a world as this, where men set themselves to contract their heart, and close it to all interests but their own. It is by no means to be opposed to mercy, but always accompanies it: the distinction between them is only that the former leads our thoughts to a more promiscuous and undistinguished distribution of favours; to those who are not, as well as those who are, necessitous; whereas the object of compassion is misery. But in the comparison, and where there is not a possibility of both, mercy is to have the preference: the affection of compassion manifestly leads us to this preference. Thus, to relieve the indigent and distressed, to single out the unhappy, from whom can be expected no returns either of present entertainment or future service, for the objects of our favours; to esteem a man's being friendless as a recommendation; dejection, and incapacity of struggling through the world, as a motive for assisting him; in a word, to consider these circumstances of disadvantage, which are usually thought a sufficient reason for neglect and overlooking a person, as a motive for helping him forward: this is the course of benevolence which compassion marks out and directs us to: this is that humanity which is so peculiarly becoming our nature and circumstances in this world. To these considerations, drawn from the nature of man, must be added the reason of the thing itself we are recommending, which accords to and shows the same. For since it is so much more in our power to lessen the misery of our fellow-creatures than to promote their positive happiness; in cases where there is an inconsistency, we shall be likely to do much more good by setting ourselves to mitigate the former than by endeavouring to promote the latter. Let the competition be between the poor and the rich. It is easy, you will say, to see which will have the preference. True; but the question is, which ought to have the preference? What proportion is there between the happiness produced by doing a favour to the indigent, and that produced by doing the same favour to one in easy circumstances? It is manifest that the addition of a very large estate to one who before had an affluence, will in many instances yield him less new enjoyment or satisfaction than an ordinary charity would yield to a necessitous person. So that it is not only true that our nature, _i.e._, the voice of God within us, carries us to the exercise of charity and benevolence in the way of compassion or mercy, preferably to any other way; but we also manifestly discern much more good done by the former; or, if you will allow me the expressions, more misery annihilated and happiness created. If charity and benevolence, and endeavouring to do good to our fellow-creatures, be anything, this observation deserves to be most seriously considered by all who have to bestow. And it holds with great exactness, when applied to the several degrees of greater and less indigency throughout the various ranks in human life: the happiness or good produced not being in proportion to what is bestowed, but in proportion to this joined with the need there was of it. It may perhaps be expected that upon this subject notice should be taken of occasions, circumstances, and characters which seem at once to call forth affections of different sorts. Thus vice may be thought the object both of pity and indignation: folly, of pity and of laughter. How far this is strictly true, I shall not inquire; but only observe upon the appearance, how much more humane it is to yield and give scope to affections, which are most directly in favour of, and friendly towards, our fellow-creatures; and that there is plainly much less danger of being led wrong by these than by the other. But, notwithstanding all that has been said in recommendation of compassion, that it is most amiable, most becoming human nature, and most useful to the world; yet it must be owned that every affection, as distinct from a principle of reason, may rise too high, and be beyond its just proportion. And by means of this one carried too far, a man throughout his life is subject to much more uneasiness than belongs to his share; and in particular instances, it may be in such a degree as to incapacitate him from assisting the very person who is the object of it. But as there are some who upon principle set up for suppressing this affection itself as weakness, there is also I know not what of fashion on this side; and, by some means or other, the whole world almost is run into the extremes of insensibility towards the distresses of their fellow- creatures: so that general rules and exhortations must always be on the other side. And now to go on to the uses we should make of the foregoing reflections, the further ones they lead to, and the general temper they have a tendency to beget in us. There being that distinct affection implanted in the nature of man, tending to lessen the miseries of life, that particular provision made for abating its sorrows, more than for increasing its positive happiness, as before explained; this may suggest to us what should be our general aim respecting ourselves, in our passage through this world: namely, to endeavour chiefly to escape misery, keep free from uneasiness, pain, and sorrow, or to get relief and mitigation of them; to propose to ourselves peace and tranquillity of mind, rather than pursue after high enjoyments. This is what the constitution of nature before explained marks out as the course we should follow, and the end we should aim at. To make pleasure and mirth and jollity our business, and be constantly hurrying about after some gay amusement, some new gratification of sense or appetite, to those who will consider the nature of man and our condition in this world, will appear the most romantic scheme of life that ever entered into thought. And yet how many are there who go on in this course, without learning better from the daily, the hourly disappointments, listlessness, and satiety which accompany this fashionable method of wasting away their days! The subject we have been insisting upon would lead us into the same kind of reflections by a different connection. The miseries of life brought home to ourselves by compassion, viewed through this affection considered as the sense by which they are perceived, would beget in us that moderation, humility, and soberness of mind which has been now recommended; and which peculiarly belongs to a season of recollection, the only purpose of which is to bring us to a just sense of things, to recover us out of that forgetfulness of ourselves, and our true state, which it is manifest far the greatest part of men pass their whole life in. Upon this account Solomon says that _it is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting_; _i.e._, it is more to a man's advantage to turn his eyes towards objects of distress, to recall sometimes to his remembrance the occasions of sorrow, than to pass all his days in thoughtless mirth and gaiety. And he represents the wise as choosing to frequent the former of these places; to be sure not for his own sake, but because _by the sadness of the countenance_, _the heart is made better_. Every one observes how temperate and reasonable men are when humbled and brought low by afflictions in comparison of what they are in high prosperity. By this voluntary resort to the house of mourning, which is here recommended, we might learn all those useful instructions which calamities teach without undergoing them ourselves; and grow wiser and better at a more easy rate than men commonly do. The objects themselves, which in that place of sorrow lie before our view, naturally give us a seriousness and attention, check that wantonness which is the growth of prosperity and ease, and head us to reflect upon the deficiencies of human life itself; that _every man at his best estate is altogether vanity_. This would correct the florid and gaudy prospects and expectations which we are too apt to indulge, teach us to lower our notions of happiness and enjoyment, bring them down to the reality of things, to what is attainable, to what the frailty of our condition will admit of, which, for any continuance, is only tranquillity, ease, and moderate satisfactions. Thus we might at once become proof against the temptations with which the whole world almost is carried away; since it is plain that not only what is called a life of pleasure, but also vicious pursuits in general, aim at somewhat besides and beyond these moderate satisfactions. And as to that obstinacy and wilfulness, which renders men so insensible to the motives of religion; this right sense of ourselves and of the world about us would bend the stubborn mind, soften the heart, and make it more apt to receive impression; and this is the proper temper in which to call our ways to remembrance, to review and set home upon ourselves the miscarriages of our past life. In such a compliant state of mind, reason and conscience will have a fair hearing; which is the preparation for, or rather the beginning of, that repentance, the outward show of which we all put on at this season. Lastly, The various miseries of life which lie before us wherever we turn our eyes, the frailty of this mortal state we are passing through, may put us in mind that the present world is not our home; that we are merely strangers and travellers in it, as all our fathers were. It is therefore to be considered as a foreign country; in which our poverty and wants, and the insufficient supplies of them, were designed to turn our views to that higher and better state we are heirs to: a state where will be no follies to be overlooked, no miseries to be pitied, no wants to be relieved; where the affection we have been now treating of will happily be lost, as there will be no objects to exercise it upon: for _God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes_, _and there shall be no more death_, _neither sorrow_, _nor crying_; _neither shall there be any more pain_; _for the former things are passed away_. SERMON VII. UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM. PREACHED THE SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. NUMBERS xxiii. 10. _Let me die the death of the righteous_, _and let my last end be like his_. These words, taken alone, and without respect to him who spoke them, lead our thoughts immediately to the different ends of good and bad men. For though the comparison is not expressed, yet it is manifestly implied; as is also the preference of one of these characters to the other in that last circumstance, death. And, since dying the death of the righteous or of the wicked necessarily implies men's being righteous or wicked; _i.e._, having lived righteously or wickedly; a comparison of them in their lives also might come into consideration, from such a single view of the words themselves. But my present design is to consider them with a particular reference or respect to him who spoke them; which reference, if you please to attend, you will see. And if what shall be offered to your consideration at this time be thought a discourse upon the whole history of this man, rather than upon the particular words I have read, this is of no consequence: it is sufficient if it afford reflection of use and service to ourselves. But, in order to avoid cavils respecting this remarkable relation in Scripture, either that part of it which you have heard in the first lesson for the day, or any other; let me just observe that as this is not a place for answering them, so they no way affect the following discourse; since the character there given is plainly a real one in life, and such as there are parallels to. The occasion of Balaam's coming out of his own country into the land of Moab, where he pronounced this solemn prayer or wish, he himself relates in the first parable or prophetic speech, of which it is the conclusion. In which is a custom referred to, proper to be taken notice of: that of devoting enemies to destruction before the entrance upon a war with them. This custom appears to have prevailed over a great part of the world; for we find it amongst the most distant nations. The Romans had public officers, to whom it belonged as a stated part of their office. But there was somewhat more particular in the case now before us: Balaam being looked upon as an extraordinary person, whose blessing or curse was thought to be always effectual. In order to engage the reader's attention to this passage, the sacred historian has enumerated the preparatory circumstances, which are these. Balaam requires the king of Moab to build him seven altars, and to prepare him the same number of oxen and of rams. The sacrifice being over, he retires alone to a solitude sacred to these occasions, there to wait the Divine inspiration or answer, for which the foregoing rites were the preparation. _And God met Balaam_, _and put a word in his mouth_; {16} upon receiving which, he returns back to the altars, where was the king, who had all this while attended the sacrifice, as appointed; he and all the princes of Moab standing, big with expectation of the Prophet's reply. _And he took up his parable_, _and said_, _Balak the king of Moab hath brought me from Aram_, _out of the mountains of the east_, _saying_, _Come_, _curse me Jacob_, _and come_, _defy Israel_. _How shall I curse_, _whom God hath not cursed_? _Or how shall I defy_, _whom the Lord hath not defied_? _For from the top of the rocks I see him_, _and from the hills I behold him_: _lo_, _the people shall dwell alone_, _and shall not be reckoned among the nations_. _Who can count the dust of Jacob_, _and the number of the fourth part of Israel_? _Let me die the death of the righteous_, _and let my last end be like his_. {17} It is necessary, as you will see in the progress of this discourse, particularly to observe what he understood by _righteous_. And he himself is introduced in the book of Micah {18} explaining it; if by _righteous_ is meant _good_, as to be sure it is. _O my people_, _remember now what Balak king of Moab consulted_, _and what Balaam the son of Beor answered him from Shittim unto Gilgal_. From the mention of Shittim it is manifest that it is this very story which is here referred to, though another part of it, the account of which is not now extant; as there are many quotations in Scripture out of books which are not come down to us. _Remember what Balaam answered_, _that ye may know the righteousness of the Lord_; _i.e._, the righteousness which God will accept. Balak demands, _Wherewith shall I come before the Lord_, _and bow myself before the high God_? _Shall I come before him with burnt- offerings_, _with calves of a year old_? _Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams_, _or with ten thousands of rivers of oil_? _Shall I give my first-born for my transgression_, _the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul_? Balaam answers him, _he hath showed thee_, _O man_, _what is good_: _and what doth the Lord require of thee_, _but to do justly_, _and to love mercy_, _and to walk humbly with thy God_? Here is a good man expressly characterised, as distinct from a dishonest and a superstitious man. No words can more strongly exclude dishonesty and falseness of heart than _doing justice and loving mercy_; and both these, as well as _walking humbly with God_, are put in opposition to those ceremonial methods of recommendation, which Balak hoped might have served the turn. From hence appears what he meant by the _righteous_, whose _death_ he desires to die. Whether it was his own character shall now be inquired; and in order to determine it, we must take a view of his whole behaviour upon this occasion. When the elders of Noah came to him, though he appears to have been much allured with the rewards offered, yet he had such regard to the authority of God as to keep the messengers in suspense until he had consulted His will. _And God said to him_, _Thou shalt not go with them_; _thou shalt not curse the people_, _for they are blessed_. {19} Upon this he dismisses the ambassadors, with an absolute refusal of accompanying them back to their king. Thus far his regards to his duty prevailed, neither does there anything appear as yet amiss in his conduct. His answer being reported to the king of Moab, a more honourable embassy is immediately despatched, and greater rewards proposed. Then the iniquity of his heart began to disclose itself. A thorough honest man would without hesitation have repeated his former answer, that he could not be guilty of so infamous a prostitution of the sacred character with which he was invested, as in the name of a prophet to curse those whom he knew to be blessed. But instead of this, which was the only honest part in these circumstances that lay before him, he desires the princes of Moab to tarry that night with him also; and for the sake of the reward deliberates, whether by some means or other he might not be able to obtain leave to curse Israel; to do that, which had been before revealed to him to be contrary to the will of God, which yet he resolves not to do without that permission. Upon which, as when this nation afterwards rejected God from reigning over them, He gave them a king in His anger; in the same way, as appears from other parts of the narration, He gives Balaam the permission he desired: for this is the most natural sense of the words. Arriving in the territories of Moab, and being received with particular distinction by the king, and he repeating in person the promise of the rewards he had before made to him by his ambassadors, he seeks, the text says, by _sacrifices_ and _enchantments_ (what these were is not to our purpose), to obtain leave of God to curse the people; keeping still his resolution, not to do it without that permission: which not being able to obtain, he had such regard to the command of God as to keep this resolution to the last. The supposition of his being under a supernatural restraint is a mere fiction of Philo: he is plainly represented to be under no other force or restraint than the fear of God. However, he goes on persevering in that endeavour, after he had declared that _God had not beheld iniquity in Jacob_, _neither had he seen perverseness in Israel_; {20} _i.e._, they were a people of virtue and piety, so far as not to have drawn down by their iniquity that curse which he was soliciting leave to pronounce upon them. So that the state of Balaam's mind was this: he wanted to do what he knew to be very wicked, and contrary to the express command of God; he had inward checks and restraints which he could not entirely get over; he therefore casts about for ways to reconcile this wickedness with his duty. How great a paradox soever this may appear, as it is indeed a contradiction in terms, it is the very account which the Scripture gives us of him. But there is a more surprising piece of iniquity yet behind. Not daring in his religious character, as a prophet, to assist the king of Moab, he considers whether there might not be found some other means of assisting him against that very people, whom he himself by the fear of God was restrained from cursing in words. One would not think it possible that the weakness, even of religious self-deceit in its utmost excess, could have so poor a distinction, so fond an evasion, to serve itself of. But so it was; and he could think of no other method than to betray the children of Israel to provoke His wrath, who was their only strength and defence. The temptation which he pitched upon was that concerning which Solomon afterwards observed, that it had _cast down many wounded_; _yea_, _many strong men had been slain by it_: and of which he himself was a sad example, when _his wives turned away his heart after other gods_. This succeeded: the people sin against God; and thus the Prophet's counsel brought on that destruction which he could by no means be prevailed upon to assist with the religious ceremony of execration, which the king of Moab thought would itself have affected it. Their crime and punishment are related in Deuteronomy {21} and Numbers. {22} And from the relation repeated in Numbers, {23} it appears, that Balaam was the contriver of the whole matter. It is also ascribed to him in the Revelation, {24} where he is said to have _taught Balak to cast a stumbling-block before the children of Israel_. This was the man, this Balaam, I say, was the man, who desired to _die the death of the righteous_, and that his _last end might be like his_; and this was the state of his mind when he pronounced these words. So that the object we have now before us is the most astonishing in the world: a very wicked man, under a deep sense of God and religion, persisting still in his wickedness, and preferring the wages of unrighteousness, even when he had before him a lively view of death, and that approaching period of his days, which should deprive him of all those advantages for which he was prostituting himself; and likewise a prospect, whether certain or uncertain, of a future state of retribution; all this joined with an explicit ardent wish that, when he was to leave this world, he might be in the condition of a righteous man. Good God! what inconsistency, what perplexity is here! With what different views of things, with what contradictory principles of action, must such a mind be torn and distracted! It was not unthinking carelessness, by which he ran on headlong in vice and folly, without ever making a stand to ask himself what he was doing: no; he acted upon the cool motives of interest and advantage. Neither was he totally hard and callous to impressions of religion, what we call abandoned; for he absolutely denied to curse Israel. When reason assumes her place, when convinced of his duty, when he owns and feels, and is actually under the influence of the divine authority; whilst he is carrying on his views to the grave, the end of all temporal greatness; under this sense of things, with the better character and more desirable state present--full before him--in his thoughts, in his wishes, voluntarily to choose the worse--what fatality is here! Or how otherwise can such a character be explained? And yet, strange as it may appear, it is not altogether an uncommon one: nay, with some small alterations, and put a little lower, it is applicable to a very considerable part of the world. For if the reasonable choice be seen and acknowledged, and yet men make the unreasonable one, is not this the same contradiction; that very inconsistency, which appeared so unaccountable? To give some little opening to such characters and behaviour, it is to be observed in general that there is no account to be given in the way of reason, of men's so strong attachments to the present world: our hopes and fears and pursuits are in degrees beyond all proportion to the known value of the things they respect. This may be said without taking into consideration religion and a future state; and when these are considered, the disproportion is infinitely heightened. Now when men go against their reason, and contradict a more important interest at a distance, for one nearer, though of less consideration; if this be the whole of the case, all that can be said is, that strong passions, some kind of brute force within, prevails over the principle of rationality. However, if this be with a clear, full, and distinct view of the truth of things, then it is doing the utmost violence to themselves, acting in the most palpable contradiction to their very nature. But if there be any such thing in mankind as putting half-deceits upon themselves; which there plainly is, either by avoiding reflection, or (if they do reflect) by religious equivocation, subterfuges, and palliating matters to themselves; by these means conscience may be laid asleep, and they may go on in a course of wickedness with less disturbance. All the various turns, doubles, and intricacies in a dishonest heart cannot be unfolded or laid open; but that there is somewhat of that kind is manifest, be it to be called self-deceit, or by any other name. Balaam had before his eyes the authority of God, absolutely forbidding him what he, for the sake of a reward, had the strongest inclination to: he was likewise in a state of mind sober enough to consider death and his last end: by these considerations he was restrained, first from going to the king of Moab, and after he did go, from cursing Israel. But notwithstanding this, there was great wickedness in his heart. He could not forego the rewards of unrighteousness: he therefore first seeks for indulgences, and when these could not be obtained, he sins against the whole meaning, end, and design of the prohibition, which no consideration in the world could prevail with him to go against the letter of. And surely that impious counsel he gave to Balak against the children of Israel was, considered in itself, a greater piece of wickedness than if he had cursed them in words. If it be inquired what his situation, his hopes, and fears were, in respect to this his wish; the answer must be, that consciousness of the wickedness of his heart must necessarily have destroyed all settled hopes of dying the death of the righteous: he could have no calm satisfaction in this view of his last end: yet, on the other hand, it is possible that those partial regards to his duty, now mentioned, might keep him from perfect despair. Upon the whole it is manifest that Balaam had the most just and true notions of God and religion; as appears, partly from the original story itself, and more plainly from the passage in Micah; where he explains religion to consist in real virtue and real piety, expressly distinguished from superstition, and in terms which most strongly exclude dishonesty and falseness of heart. Yet you see his behaviour: he seeks indulgences for plain wickedness, which not being able to obtain he glosses over that same wickedness, dresses it up in a new form, in order to make it pass off more easily with himself. That is, he deliberately contrives to deceive and impose upon himself in a matter which he knew to be of the utmost importance. To bring these observations home to ourselves: it is too evident that many persons allow themselves in very unjustifiable courses who yet make great pretences to religion; not to deceive the world, none can be so weak as to think this will pass in our age; but from principles, hopes, and fears, respecting God and a future state; and go on thus with a sort of tranquillity and quiet of mind. This cannot be upon a thorough consideration, and full resolution, that the pleasures and advantages they propose are to be pursued at all hazards, against reason, against the law of God, and though everlasting destruction is to be the consequence. This would be doing too great violence upon themselves. No, they are for making a composition with the Almighty. These of His commands they will obey; but as to others--why, they will make all the atonements in their power; the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute man, each in a way which shall not contradict his respective pursuit. Indulgences before, which was Balaam's first attempt, though he was not so successful in it as to deceive himself, or atonements afterwards, are all the same. And here, perhaps, come in faint hopes that they may, and half-resolves that they will, one time or other, make a change. Besides these there are also persons, who, from a more just way of considering things, see the infinite absurdity of this, of substituting sacrifice instead of obedience; there are persons far enough from superstition, and not without some real sense of God and religion upon their minds; who yet are guilty of most unjustifiable practices, and go on with great coolness and command over themselves. The same dishonesty and unsoundness of heart discovers itself in these another way. In all common ordinary cases we see intuitively at first view what is our duty, what is the honest part. This is the ground of the observation, that the first thought is often the best. In these cases doubt and deliberation is itself dishonesty, as it was in Balaam upon the second message. That which is called considering what is our duty in a particular case is very often nothing but endeavouring to explain it away. Thus those courses, which, if men would fairly attend to the dictates of their own consciences, they would see to be corruption, excess, oppression, uncharitableness; these are refined upon--things were so and so circumstantiated--great difficulties are raised about fixing bounds and degrees, and thus every moral obligation whatever may be evaded. Here is scope, I say, for an unfair mind to explain away every moral obligation to itself. Whether men reflect again upon this internal management and artifice, and how explicit they are with themselves, is another question. There are many operations of the mind, many things pass within, which we never reflect upon again; which a bystander, from having frequent opportunities of observing us and our conduct, may make shrewd guesses at. That great numbers are in this way of deceiving themselves is certain. There is scarce a man in the world, who has entirely got over all regards, hopes, and fears, concerning God and a future state; and these apprehensions in the generality, bad as we are, prevail in considerable degrees: yet men will and can be wicked, with calmness and thought; we see they are. There must therefore be some method of making it sit a little easy upon their minds; which, in the superstitious, is those indulgences and atonements before mentioned, and this self-deceit of another kind in persons of another character. And both these proceed from a certain unfairness of mind, a peculiar inward dishonesty; the direct contrary to that simplicity which our Saviour recommends, under the notion of _becoming little children_, as a necessary qualification for our entering into the kingdom of heaven. But to conclude: How much soever men differ in the course of life they prefer, and in their ways of palliating and excusing their vices to themselves; yet all agree in one thing, desiring to _die the death of the righteous_. This is surely remarkable. The observation may be extended further, and put thus: even without determining what that is which we call guilt or innocence, there is no man but would choose, after having had the pleasure or advantage of a vicious action, to be free of the guilt of it, to be in the state of an innocent man. This shows at least the disturbance and implicit dissatisfaction in vice. If we inquire into the grounds of it, we shall find it proceeds partly from an immediate sense of having done evil, and partly from an apprehension that this inward sense shall one time or another be seconded by a higher judgment, upon which our whole being depends. Now to suspend and drown this sense, and these apprehensions, be it by the hurry of business or of pleasure, or by superstition, or moral equivocations, this is in a manner one and the same, and makes no alteration at all in the nature of our case. Things and actions are what they are, and the consequences of them will be what they will be: why, then, should we desire to be deceived? As we are reasonable creatures, and have any regard to ourselves, we ought to lay these things plainly and honestly before our mind, and upon this, act as you please, as you think most fit: make that choice, and prefer that course of life, which you can justify to yourselves, and which sits most easy upon your own mind. It will immediately appear that vice cannot be the happiness, but must upon the whole be the misery, of such a creature as man; a moral, an accountable agent. Superstitious observances, self- deceit though of a more refined sort, will not in reality at all mend matters with us. And the result of the whole can be nothing else, but that with simplicity and fairness we _keep innocency_, _and take heed unto the thing that is right_; _for this alone shall bring a man peace at the last_. SERMON XI. {24a} UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. PREACHED ON ADVENT SUNDAY. ROMANS xiii. 9. _And if there be any other commandment_, _it is briefly comprehended in this saying_, _namely_, _Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself_. It is commonly observed that there is a disposition in men to complain of the viciousness and corruption of the age in which they live as greater than that of former ones; which is usually followed with this further observation, that mankind has been in that respect much the same in all times. Now, not to determine whether this last be not contradicted by the accounts of history; thus much can scarce be doubted, that vice and folly takes different turns, and some particular kinds of it are more open and avowed in some ages than in others; and, I suppose, it may be spoken of as very much the distinction of the present to profess a contracted spirit, and greater regards to self-interest, than appears to have been done formerly. Upon this account it seems worth while to inquire whether private interest is likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all other principles; _or whether the contracted affection may not possibly be so prevalent as to disappoint itself_, _and even contradict its own and private good_. And since, further, there is generally thought to be some peculiar kind of contrariety between self-love and the love of our neighbour, between the pursuit of public and of private good; insomuch that when you are recommending one of these, you are supposed to be speaking against the other; and from hence arises a secret prejudice against, and frequently open scorn of, all talk of public spirit and real good-will to our fellow- creatures; it will be necessary to _inquire what respect benevolence hath to self-love_, _and the pursuit of private interest to the pursuit of public_: or whether there be anything of that peculiar inconsistence and contrariety between them over and above what there is between self-love and other passions and particular affections, and their respective pursuits. These inquiries, it is hoped, may be favourably attended to; for there shall be all possible concessions made to the favourite passion, which hath so much allowed to it, and whose cause is so universally pleaded: it shall be treated with the utmost tenderness and concern for its interests. In order to do this, as well as to determine the forementioned questions, it will be necessary to _consider the nature_, _the object_, _and end of that self-love_, _as distinguished from other principles or affections in the mind_, _and their respective objects_. Every man hath a general desire of his own happiness; and likewise a variety of particular affections, passions, and appetites to particular external objects. The former proceeds from, or is, self-love; and seems inseparable from all sensible creatures, who can reflect upon themselves and their own interest or happiness so as to have that interest an object to their minds; what is to be said of the latter is, that they proceed from or together make up that particular nature, according to which man is made. The object the former pursues is somewhat internal--our own happiness, enjoyment, satisfaction; whether we have, or have not, a distinct particular perception what it is, or wherein it consists: the objects of the latter are this or that particular external thing, which the affections tend towards, and of which it hath always a particular idea or perception. The principle we call self-love never seeks anything external for the sake of the thing, but only as a means of happiness or good: particular affections rest in the external things themselves. One belongs to man as a reasonable creature reflecting upon his own interest or happiness. The other, though quite distinct from reason, are as much a part of human nature. That all particular appetites and passions are towards _external things themselves_, distinct from the _pleasure arising from them_, is manifested from hence; that there could not be this pleasure, were it not for that prior suitableness between the object and the passion: there could be no enjoyment or delight from one thing more than another, from eating food more than from swallowing a stone, if there were not an affection or appetite to one thing more than another. Every particular affection, even the love of our neighbour, is as really our own affection as self-love; and the pleasure arising from its gratification is as much my own pleasure as the pleasure self-love would have from knowing I myself should be happy some time hence would be my own pleasure. And if, because every particular affection is a man's own, and the pleasure arising from its gratification his own pleasure, or pleasure to himself, such particular affection must be called self-love; according to this way of speaking, no creature whatever can possibly act but merely from self-love; and every action and every affection whatever is to be resolved up into this one principle. But then this is not the language of mankind; or if it were, we should want words to express the difference between the principle of an action, proceeding from cool consideration that it will be to my own advantage; and an action, suppose of revenge or of friendship, by which a man runs upon certain ruin, to do evil or good to another. It is manifest the principles of these actions are totally different, and so want different words to be distinguished by; all that they agree in is that they both proceed from, and are done to gratify, an inclination in a man's self. But the principle or inclination in one case is self-love; in the other, hatred or love of another. There is then a distinction between the cool principle of self- love, or general desire of our own happiness, as one part of our nature, and one principle of action; and the particular affections towards particular external objects, as another part of our nature, and another principle of action. How much soever therefore is to be allowed to self- love, yet it cannot be allowed to be the whole of our inward constitution; because, you see, there are other parts or principles which come into it. Further, private happiness or good is all which self-love can make us desire, or be concerned about: in having this consists its gratification: it is an affection to ourselves; a regard to our own interest, happiness, and private good: and in the proportion a man hath this, he is interested, or a lover of himself. Let this be kept in mind; because there is commonly, as I shall presently have occasion to observe, another sense put upon these words. On the other hand, particular affections tend towards particular external things: these are their objects: having these is their end: in this consists their gratification: no matter whether it be, or be not, upon the whole, our interest or happiness. An action done from the former of these principles is called an interested action. An action proceeding from any of the latter has its denomination of passionate, ambitious, friendly, revengeful, or any other, from the particular appetite or affection from which it proceeds. Thus self-love as one part of human nature, and the several particular principles as the other part, are, themselves, their objects and ends, stated and shown. From hence it will be easy to see how far, and in what ways, each of these can contribute and be subservient to the private good of the individual. Happiness does not consist in self-love. The desire of happiness is no more the thing itself than the desire of riches is the possession or enjoyment of them. People might love themselves with the most entire and unbounded affection, and yet be extremely miserable. Neither can self-love any way help them out, but by setting them on work to get rid of the causes of their misery, to gain or make use of those objects which are by nature adapted to afford satisfaction. Happiness or satisfaction consists only in the enjoyment of those objects which are by nature suited to our several particular appetites, passions, and affections. So that if self-love wholly engrosses us, and leaves no room for any other principle, there can be absolutely no such thing at all as happiness or enjoyment of any kind whatever; since happiness consists in the gratification of particular passions, which supposes the having of them. Self-love then does not constitute _this_ or _that_ to be our interest or good; but, our interest or good being constituted by nature and supposed, self-love only puts us upon obtaining and securing it. Therefore, if it be possible that self-love may prevail and exert itself in a degree or manner which is not subservient to this end; then it will not follow that our interest will be promoted in proportion to the degree in which that principle engrosses us, and prevails over others. Nay, further, the private and contracted affection, when it is not subservient to this end, private good may, for anything that appears, have a direct contrary tendency and effect. And if we will consider the matter, we shall see that it often really has. _Disengagement_ is absolutely necessary to enjoyment; and a person may have so steady and fixed an eye upon his own interest, whatever he places it in, as may hinder him from _attending_ to many gratifications within his reach, which others have their minds _free_ and _open_ to. Over-fondness for a child is not generally thought to be for its advantage; and, if there be any guess to be made from appearances, surely that character we call selfish is not the most promising for happiness. Such a temper may plainly be, and exert itself in a degree and manner which may give unnecessary and useless solicitude and anxiety, in a degree and manner which may prevent obtaining the means and materials of enjoyment, as well as the making use of them. Immoderate self-love does very ill consult its own interest: and, how much soever a paradox it may appear, it is certainly true that even from self-love we should endeavour to get over all inordinate regard to and consideration of ourselves. Every one of our passions and affections hath its natural stint and bound, which may easily be exceeded; whereas our enjoyments can possibly be but in a determinate measure and degree. Therefore such excess of the affection, since it cannot procure any enjoyment, must in all cases be useless; but is generally attended with inconveniences, and often is downright pain and misery. This holds as much with regard to self-love as to all other affections. The natural degree of it, so far as it sets us on work to gain and make use of the materials of satisfaction, may be to our real advantage; but beyond or besides this, it is in several respects an inconvenience and disadvantage. Thus it appears that private interest is so far from being likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all other principles, that _the contracted affection may be so prevalent as to disappoint itself_, _and even contradict its own and private good_. "But who, except the most sordidly covetous, ever thought there was any rivalship between the love of greatness, honour, power, or between sensual appetites and self-love? No, there is a perfect harmony between them. It is by means of these particular appetites and affections that self-love is gratified in enjoyment, happiness, and satisfaction. The competition and rivalship is between self-love and the love of our neighbour: that affection which leads us out of ourselves, makes us regardless of our own interest, and substitute that of another in its stead." Whether, then, there be any peculiar competition and contrariety in this case shall now be considered. Self-love and interestedness was stated to consist in or be an affection to ourselves, a regard to our own private good: it is therefore distinct from benevolence, which is an affection to the good of our fellow-creatures. But that benevolence is distinct from, that is, not the same thing with self-love, is no reason for its being looked upon with any peculiar suspicion; because every principle whatever, by means of which self-love is gratified, is distinct from it; and all things which are distinct from each other are equally so. A man has an affection or aversion to another: that one of these tends to, and is gratified by, doing good, that the other tends to, and is gratified by, doing harm, does not in the least alter the respect which either one or the other of these inward feelings has to self-love. We use the word _property_ so as to exclude any other persons having an interest in that of which we say a particular man has the property. And we often use the word _selfish_ so as to exclude in the same manner all regards to the good of others. But the cases are not parallel: for though that exclusion is really part of the idea of property; yet such positive exclusion, or bringing this peculiar disregard to the good of others into the idea of self-love, is in reality adding to the idea, or changing it from what it was before stated to consist in, namely, in an affection to ourselves. {25} This being the whole idea of self-love, it can no otherwise exclude good-will or love of others, than merely by not including it, no otherwise, than it excludes love of arts or reputation, or of anything else. Neither on the other hand does benevolence, any more than love of arts or of reputation exclude self-love. Love of our neighbour, then, has just the same respect to, is no more distant from, self-love, than hatred of our neighbour, or than love or hatred of anything else. Thus the principles, from which men rush upon certain ruin for the destruction of an enemy, and for the preservation of a friend, have the same respect to the private affection, and are equally interested, or equally disinterested; and it is of no avail whether they are said to be one or the other. Therefore to those who are shocked to hear virtue spoken of as disinterested, it may be allowed that it is indeed absurd to speak thus of it; unless hatred, several particular instances of vice, and all the common affections and aversions in mankind, are acknowledged to be disinterested too. Is there any less inconsistence between the love of inanimate things, or of creatures merely sensitive, and self-love, than between self-love and the love of our neighbour? Is desire of and delight in the happiness of another any more a diminution of self-love than desire of and delight in the esteem of another? They are both equally desire of and delight in somewhat external to ourselves; either both or neither are so. The object of self- love is expressed in the term self; and every appetite of sense, and every particular affection of the heart, are equally interested or disinterested, because the objects of them all are equally self or somewhat else. Whatever ridicule therefore the mention of a disinterested principle or action may be supposed to lie open to, must, upon the matter being thus stated, relate to ambition, and every appetite and particular affection as much as to benevolence. And indeed all the ridicule, and all the grave perplexity, of which this subject hath had its full share, is merely from words. The most intelligible way of speaking of it seems to be this: that self-love and the actions done in consequence of it (for these will presently appear to be the same as to this question) are interested; that particular affections towards external objects, and the actions done in consequence of those affections are not so. But every one is at liberty to use words as he pleases. All that is here insisted upon is that ambition, revenge, benevolence, all particular passions whatever, and the actions they produce, are equally interested or disinterested. Thus it appears that there is no peculiar contrariety between self-love and benevolence; no greater competition between these than between any other particular affections and self-love. This relates to the affections themselves. Let us now see whether there be any peculiar contrariety between the respective courses of life which these affections lead to; whether there be any greater competition between the pursuit of private and of public good, than between any other particular pursuits and that of private good. There seems no other reason to suspect that there is any such peculiar contrariety, but only that the course of action which benevolence leads to has a more direct tendency to promote the good of others, than that course of action which love of reputation suppose, or any other particular affection leads to. But that any affection tends to the happiness of another does not hinder its tending to one's own happiness too. That others enjoy the benefit of the air and the light of the sun does not hinder but that these are as much one's own private advantage now as they would be if we had the property of them exclusive of all others. So a pursuit which tends to promote the good of another, yet may have as great tendency to promote private interest, as a pursuit which does not tend to the good of another at all, or which is mischievous to him. All particular affections whatever, resentment, benevolence, love of arts, equally lead to a course of action for their own gratification; _i.e._, the gratification of ourselves; and the gratification of each gives delight: so far, then, it is manifest they have all the same respect to private interest. Now take into consideration, further, concerning these three pursuits, that the end of the first is the harm, of the second, the good of another, of the last, somewhat indifferent; and is there any necessity that these additional considerations should alter the respect, which we before saw these three pursuits had to private interest, or render any one of them less conducive to it, than any other? Thus one man's affection is to honour as his end; in order to obtain which he thinks no pains too great. Suppose another, with such a singularity of mind, as to have the same affection to public good as his end, which he endeavours with the same labour to obtain. In case of success, surely the man of benevolence hath as great enjoyment as the man of ambition; they both equally having the end their affections, in the same degree, tended to; but in case of disappointment, the benevolent man has clearly the advantage; since endeavouring to do good, considered as a virtuous pursuit, is gratified by its own consciousness, _i.e._, is in a degree its own reward. And as to these two, or benevolence and any other particular passions whatever, considered in a further view, as forming a general temper, which more or less disposes us for enjoyment of all the common blessings of life, distinct from their own gratification, is benevolence less the temper of tranquillity and freedom than ambition or covetousness? Does the benevolent man appear less easy with himself from his love to his neighbour? Does he less relish his being? Is there any peculiar gloom seated on his face? Is his mind less open to entertainment, to any particular gratification? Nothing is more manifest than that being in good humour, which is benevolence whilst it lasts, is itself the temper of satisfaction and enjoyment. Suppose then, a man sitting down to consider how he might become most easy to himself, and attain the greatest pleasure he could, all that which is his real natural happiness. This can only consist in the enjoyment of those objects which are by nature adapted to our several faculties. These particular enjoyments make up the sum total of our happiness, and they are supposed to arise from riches, honours, and the gratification of sensual appetites. Be it so; yet none profess themselves so completely happy in these enjoyments, but that there is room left in the mind for others, if they were presented to them: nay, these, as much as they engage us, are not thought so high, but that human nature is capable even of greater. Now there have been persons in all ages who have professed that they found satisfaction in the exercise of charity, in the love of their neighbour, in endeavouring to promote the happiness of all they had to do with, and in the pursuit of what is just and right and good as the general bent of their mind and end of their life; and that doing an action of baseness or cruelty would be as great violence to _their_ self, as much breaking in upon their nature, as any external force. Persons of this character would add, if they might be heard, that they consider themselves as acting in the view of an Infinite Being, who is in a much higher sense the object of reverence and of love, than all the world besides; and therefore they could have no more enjoyment from a wicked action done under His eye than the persons to whom they are making their apology could if all mankind were the spectators of it; and that the satisfaction of approving themselves to his unerring judgment, to whom they thus refer all their actions, is a more continued settled satisfaction than any this world can afford; as also that they have, no less than others, a mind free and open to all the common innocent gratifications of it, such as they are. And if we go no further, does there appear any absurdity in this? Will any one take upon him to say that a man cannot find his account in this general course of life as much as in the most unbounded ambition, and the excesses of pleasure? Or that such a person has not consulted so well for himself, for the satisfaction and peace of his own mind, as the ambitious or dissolute man? And though the consideration that God himself will in the end justify their taste, and support their cause, is not formally to be insisted upon here, yet thus much comes in, that all enjoyments whatever are much more clear and unmixed from the assurance that they will end well. Is it certain, then, that there is nothing in these pretensions to happiness? especially when there are not wanting persons who have supported themselves with satisfactions of this kind in sickness, poverty, disgrace, and in the very pangs of death; whereas it is manifest all other enjoyments fail in these circumstances. This surely looks suspicions of having somewhat in it. Self-love, methinks, should be alarmed. May she not possibly pass over greater pleasures than those she is so wholly taken up with? The short of the matter is no more than this. Happiness consists in the gratification of certain affections, appetites, passions, with objects which are by nature adapted to them. Self-love may indeed set us on work to gratify these, but happiness or enjoyment has no immediate connection with self-love, but arises from such gratification alone. Love of our neighbour is one of those affections. This, considered as a _virtuous principle_, is gratified by a consciousness of _endeavouring_ to promote the good of others, but considered as a natural affection, its gratification consists in the actual accomplishment of this endeavour. Now indulgence or gratification of this affection, whether in that consciousness or this accomplishment, has the same respect to interest as indulgence of any other affection; they equally proceed from or do not proceed from self-love, they equally include or equally exclude this principle. Thus it appears, that _benevolence and the pursuit of public good hath at least as great respect to self-love and the pursuit of private good as any other particular passions_, _and their respective pursuits_. Neither is covetousness, whether as a temper or pursuit, any exception to this. For if by covetousness is meant the desire and pursuit of riches for their own sake, without any regard to, or consideration of, the uses of them, this hath as little to do with self-love as benevolence hath. But by this word is usually meant, not such madness and total distraction of mind, but immoderate affection to and pursuit of riches as possessions in order to some further end, namely, satisfaction, interest, or good. This, therefore, is not a particular affection or particular pursuit, but it is the general principle of self-love, and the general pursuit of our own interest, for which reason the word _selfish_ is by every one appropriated to this temper and pursuit. Now as it is ridiculous to assert that self-love and the love of our neighbour are the same, so neither is it asserted that following these different affections hath the same tendency and respect to our own interest. The comparison is not between self-love and the love of our neighbour, between pursuit of our own interest and the interest of others, but between the several particular affections in human nature towards external objects, as one part of the comparison, and the one particular affection to the good of our neighbour as the other part of it: and it has been shown that all these have the same respect to self-love and private interest. There is indeed frequently an inconsistence or interfering between self- love or private interest and the several particular appetites, passions, affections, or the pursuits they lead to. But this competition or interfering is merely accidental, and happens much oftener between pride, revenge, sensual gratifications, and private interest, than between private interest and benevolence. For nothing is more common than to see men give themselves up to a passion or an affection to their known prejudice and ruin, and in direct contradiction to manifest and real interest, and the loudest calls of self-love: whereas the seeming competitions and interfering, between benevolence and private interest, relate much more to the materials or means of enjoyment than to enjoyment itself. There is often an interfering in the former when there is none in the latter. Thus as to riches: so much money as a man gives away, so much less will remain in his possession. Here is a real interfering. But though a man cannot possibly give without lessening his fortune, yet there are multitudes might give without lessening their own enjoyment, because they may have more than they can turn to any real use or advantage to themselves. Thus the more thought and time any one employs about the interests and good of others, he must necessarily have less to attend his own: but he may have so ready and large a supply of his own wants, that such thought might be really useless to himself, though of great service and assistance to others. The general mistake, that there is some greater inconsistence between endeavouring to promote the good of another and self-interest, than between self-interest and pursuing anything else, seems, as hath already been hinted, to arise from our notions of property, and to be carried on by this property's being supposed to be itself our happiness or good. People are so very much taken up with this one subject, that they seem from it to have formed a general way of thinking, which they apply to other things that they have nothing to do with. Hence in a confused and slight way it might well be taken for granted that another's having no interest in an affection (_i.e._, his good not being the object of it) renders, as one may speak, the proprietor's interest in it greater; and that if another had an interest in it this would render his less, or occasion that such affection could not be so friendly to self-love, or conducive to private good, as an affection or pursuit which has not a regard to the good of another. This, I say, might be taken for granted, whilst it was not attended to, that the object of every particular affection is equally somewhat external to ourselves, and whether it be the good of another person, or whether it be any other external thing, makes no alteration with regard to its being one's own affection, and the gratification of it one's own private enjoyment. And so far as it is taken for granted that barely having the means and materials of enjoyment is what constitutes interest and happiness; that our interest or good consists in possessions themselves, in having the property of riches, houses, lands, gardens, not in the enjoyment of them; so far it will even more strongly be taken for granted, in the way already explained, that an affection's conducing to the good of another must even necessarily occasion it to conduce less to private good, if not to be positively detrimental to it. For, if property and happiness are one and the same thing, as by increasing the property of another you lessen your own property, so by promoting the happiness of another you must lessen your own happiness. But whatever occasioned the mistake, I hope it has been fully proved to be one, as it has been proved, that there is no peculiar rivalship or competition between self-love and benevolence: that as there may be a competition between these two, so there many also between any particular affection whatever and self-love; that every particular affection, benevolence among the rest, is subservient to self-love by being the instrument of private enjoyment; and that in one respect benevolence contributes more to private interest, _i.e._, enjoyment or satisfaction, than any other of the particular common affections, as it is in a degree its own gratification. And to all these things may be added that religion, from whence arises our strongest obligation to benevolence, is so far from disowning the principle of self-love, that it often addresses itself to that very principle, and always to the mind in that state when reason presides, and there can no access be had to the understanding, but by convincing men that the course of life we would persuade them to is not contrary to their interest. It may be allowed, without any prejudice to the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and most important to us; that they will, nay, if you please, that they ought to prevail over those of order, and beauty, and harmony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is impossible there ever should be, any inconsistence between them, though these last, too, as expressing the fitness of actions, are real as truth itself. Let it be allowed, though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed consist in affection to and pursuit of what is right and good, as such, yet, that when we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pursuit, till we are convinced that it will be for our happiness, or at least not contrary to it. Common reason and humanity will have some influence upon mankind, whatever becomes of speculations; but, so far as the interests of virtue depend upon the theory of it being secured from open scorn, so far its very being in the world depends upon its appearing to have no contrariety to private interest and self-love. The foregoing observations, therefore, it is hoped, may have gained a little ground in favour of the precept before us, the particular explanation of which shall be the subject of the next discourse. I will conclude at present with observing the peculiar obligation which we are under to virtue and religion, as enforced in the verses following the text, in the epistle for the day, from our Saviour's coming into the world. _The night is far spent_, _the day is at hand_; _let us therefore cast off the works of darkness_, _and let us put on the armour of light_, &c. The meaning and force of which exhortation is, that Christianity lays us under new obligations to a good life, as by it the will of God is more clearly revealed, and as it affords additional motives to the practice of it, over and above those which arise out of the nature of virtue and vice, I might add, as our Saviour has set us a perfect example of goodness in our own nature. Now love and charity is plainly the thing in which He hath placed His religion; in which, therefore, as we have any pretence to the name of Christians, we must place ours. He hath at once enjoined it upon us by way of command with peculiar force, and by His example, as having undertaken the work of our salvation out of pure love and goodwill to mankind. The endeavour to set home this example upon our minds is a very proper employment of this season, which is bringing on the festival of His birth, which as it may teach us many excellent lessons of humility, resignation, and obedience to the will of God, so there is none it recommends with greater authority, force, and advantage than this love and charity, since it was _for us men_, _and for our salvation_, that _He came down from heaven_, _and was incarnate_, _and was made man_, that He might teach us our duty, and more especially that He might enforce the practice of it, reform mankind, and finally bring us to that _eternal salvation_, of which _He is the Author to all those that obey Him_. SERMON XII. UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. ROM. xiii. 9. _And if there be any other commandment_, _it is briefly comprehended in this saying_, _namely_, _Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself_. Having already removed the prejudices against public spirit, or the love of our neighbour, on the side of private interest and self-love, I proceed to the particular explanation of the precept before us, by showing, _Who is our neighbour_: _In what sense we are required to love him as ourselves_; _The influence such love would have upon our behaviour in life_; and lastly, _How this commandment comprehends in it all others_. I. The objects and due extent of this affection will be understood by attending to the nature of it, and to the nature and circumstances of mankind in this world. The love of our neighbour is the same with charity, benevolence, or goodwill: it is an affection to the good and happiness of our fellow-creatures. This implies in it a disposition to produce happiness, and this is the simple notion of goodness, which appears so amiable wherever we meet with it. From hence it is easy to see that the perfection of goodness consists in love to the whole universe. This is the perfection of Almighty God. But as man is so much limited in his capacity, as so small a part of the Creation comes under his notice and influence, and as we are not used to consider things in so general a way, it is not to be thought of that the universe should be the object of benevolence to such creatures as we are. Thus in that precept of our Saviour, _Be ye perfect_, _even as your Father_, _which is in heaven_, _is perfect_, {26} the perfection of the divine goodness is proposed to our imitation as it is promiscuous, and extends to the evil as well as the good; not as it is absolutely universal, imitation of it in this respect being plainly beyond us. The object is too vast. For this reason moral writers also have substituted a less general object for our benevolence, mankind. But this likewise is an object too general, and very much out of our view. Therefore persons more practical have, instead of mankind, put our country, and made the principle of virtue, of human virtue, to consist in the entire uniform love of our country: and this is what we call a public spirit, which in men of public stations is the character of a patriot. But this is speaking to the upper part of the world. Kingdoms and governments are large, and the sphere of action of far the greatest part of mankind is much narrower than the government they live under: or however, common men do not consider their actions as affecting the whole community of which they are members. There plainly is wanting a less general and nearer object of benevolence for the bulk of men than that of their country. Therefore the Scripture, not being a book of theory and speculation, but a plain rule of life for mankind, has with the utmost possible propriety put the principle of virtue upon the love of our neighbour, which is that part of the universe, that part of mankind, that part of our country, which comes under our immediate notice, acquaintance, and influence, and with which we have to do. This is plainly the true account or reason why our Saviour places the principle of virtue in the love of our _neighbour_, and the account itself shows who are comprehended under that relation. II. Let us now consider in what sense we are commanded to love our neighbour _as ourselves_. This precept, in its first delivery by our Saviour, is thus introduced:--_Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart_, _with all thy soul_, _and with all thy strength_; _and thy neighbour as thyself_. These very different manners of expression do not lead our thoughts to the same measure or degree of love, common to both objects, but to one peculiar to each. Supposing, then, which is to be supposed, a distinct meaning and propriety in the words, _as thyself_; the precept we are considering will admit of any of these senses: that we bear the _same kind_ of affection to our neighbour as we do to ourselves, or, that the love we bear to our neighbour should have _some certain proportion or other_ to self-love: or, lastly, that it should bear the particular proportion of _equality_, that _it be in the same degree_. First, The precept may be understood as requiring only that we have the _same kind_ of affection to our fellow-creatures as to ourselves; that, as every man has the principle of self-love, which disposes him to avoid misery, and consult his own happiness, so we should cultivate the affection of goodwill to our neighbour, and that it should influence us to have the same kind of regard to him. This at least must be commanded, and this will not only prevent our being injurious to him, but will also put us upon promoting his good. There are blessings in life, which we share in common with others, peace, plenty, freedom, healthful seasons. But real benevolence to our fellow-creatures would give us the notion of a common interest in a stricter sense, for in the degree we love another, his interest, his joys and sorrows, are our own. It is from self-love that we form the notion of private good, and consider it is our own: love of our neighbour would teach us thus to appropriate to ourselves his good and welfare; to consider ourselves as having a real share in his happiness. Thus the principle of benevolence would be an advocate within our own breasts, to take care of the interests of our fellow-creatures in all the interfering and competitions which cannot but be, from the imperfection of our nature, and the state we are in. It would likewise, in some measure, lessen that interfering, and hinder men from forming so strong a notion of private good, exclusive of the good of others, as we commonly do. Thus, as the private affection makes us in a peculiar manner sensible of humanity, justice or injustice, when exercised towards ourselves, love of our neighbour would give us the same kind of sensibility in his behalf. This would be the greatest security of our uniform obedience to that most equitable rule. _Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you_, _do ye even so unto them_. All this is indeed no more than that we should have a real love to our neighbour; but then, which is to be observed, the words _as thyself_ express this in the most distinct manner, and determine the precept to relate to the affection itself. The advantage which this principle of benevolence has over other remote considerations is, that it is itself the temper of virtue, and likewise that it is the chief, nay, the only effectual security of our performing the several offices of kindness we owe to our fellow-creatures. When from distant considerations men resolve upon any thing to which they have no liking, or perhaps an averseness, they are perpetually finding out evasions and excuses, which need never be wanting, if people look for them: and they equivocate with themselves in the plainest cases in the world. This may be in respect to single determinate acts of virtue, but it comes in much more, where the obligation is to a general course of behaviour, and most of all, if it be such as cannot be reduced to fixed determinate rules. This observation may account for the diversity of the expression in that known passage of the prophet Micah, _to do justly_, _and to love mercy_. A man's heart must be formed to humanity and benevolence, he must _love mercy_, otherwise he will not act mercifully in any settled course of behaviour. As consideration of the future sanctions of religion is our only security of preserving in our duty, in cases of great temptation: so to get our heart and temper formed to a love and liking of what is good is absolutely necessary in order to our behaving rightly in the familiar and daily intercourses amongst mankind. Secondly, The precept before us may be understood to require that we love our neighbour in some certain _proportion_ or other, _according as_ we love ourselves. And indeed a man's character cannot be determined by the love he bears to his neighbour, considered absolutely, but the proportion which this bears to self-love, whether it be attended to or not, is the chief thing which forms the character and influences the actions. For, as the form of the body is a composition of various parts, so likewise our inward structure is not simple or uniform, but a composition of various passions, appetites, affections, together with rationality, including in this last both the discernment of what is right, and a disposition to regulate ourselves by it. There is greater variety of parts in what we call a character than there are features in a face, and the morality of that is no more determined by one part than the beauty or deformity of this is by one single feature: each is to be judged of by all the parts or features, not taken singly, but together. In the inward frame the various passions, appetites, affections, stand in different respects to each other. The principles in our mind may be contradictory, or checks and allays only, or incentives and assistants to each other. And principles, which in their nature have no kind of contrariety or affinity, may yet accidentally be each other's allays or incentives. From hence it comes to pass, that though we were able to look into the inward contexture of the heart, and see with the greatest exactness in what degree any one principle is in a particular man, we could not from thence determine how far that principle would go towards forming the character, or what influence it would have upon the actions, unless we could likewise discern what other principles prevailed in him, and see the proportion which that one bears to the others. Thus, though two men should have the affection of compassion in the same degree exactly, yet one may have the principle of resentment or of ambition so strong in him as to prevail over that of compassion, and prevent its having any influence upon his actions, so that he may deserve the character of a hard or cruel man, whereas the other having compassion in just the same degree only, yet having resentment or ambition in a lower degree, his compassion may prevail over them, so as to influence his actions, and to denominate his temper compassionate. So that, how strange soever it may appear to people who do not attend to the thing, yet it is quite manifest that, when we say one man is more resenting or compassionate than another, this does not necessarily imply that one has the principle of resentment or of compassion stronger than the other. For if the proportion which resentment or compassion bears to other inward principles is greater in one than in the other, this is itself sufficient to denominate one more resenting or compassionate than the other. Further, the whole system, as I may speak, of affections (including rationality), which constitute the heart, as this word is used in Scripture and on moral subjects, are each and all of them stronger in some than in others. Now the proportion which the two general affections, benevolence and self-love, bear to each other, according to this interpretation of the text, demonstrates men's character as to virtue. Suppose, then, one man to have the principle of benevolence in a higher degree than another; it will not follow from hence that his general temper or character or actions will be more benevolent than the other's. For he may have self-love in such a degree as quite to prevail over benevolence, so that it may have no influence at all upon his action, whereas benevolence in the other person, though in a lower degree, may yet be the strongest principle in his heart, and strong enough to be the guide of his actions, so as to denominate him a good and virtuous man. The case is here as in scales: it is not one weight considered in itself, which determines whether the scale shall ascend or descend, but this depends upon the proportion which that one weight hath to the other. It being thus manifest that the influence which benevolence has upon our actions, and how far it goes towards forming our character, is not determined by the degree itself of this principle in our mind, but by the proportion it has to self-love and other principles: a comparison also being made in the text between self-love and the love of our neighbour; these joint considerations afforded sufficient occasion for treating here of that proportion. It plainly is implied in the precept, though it should be questioned, whether it be the exact meaning of the words, as _thyself_. Love of our neighbour, then, must bear some proportion to self-love, and virtue, to be sure, consists in the due proportion. What this due proportion is, whether as a principle in the mind, or as exerted in actions, can be judged of only from our nature and condition in this world. Of the degree in which affections and the principles of action, considered in themselves, prevail, we have no measure: let us, then, proceed to the course of behaviour, the actions they produce. Both our nature and condition require that each particular man should make particular provision for himself: and the inquiry, what proportion benevolence should have to self-love, when brought down to practice, will be, what is a competent care and provision for ourselves? And how certain soever it be that each man must determine this for himself, and how ridiculous soever it would be for any to attempt to determine it for another, yet it is to be observed that the proportion is real, and that a competent provision has a bound, and that it cannot be all which we can possibly get and keep within our grasp, without legal injustice. Mankind almost universally bring in vanity, supplies for what is called a life of pleasure, covetousness, or imaginary notions of superiority over others, to determine this question: but every one who desires to act a proper part in society would do well to consider how far any of them come in to determine it, in the way of moral consideration. All that can be said is, supposing what, as the world goes, is so much to be supposed that it is scarce to be mentioned, that persons do not neglect what they really owe to themselves; the more of their care and thought and of their fortune they employ in doing good to their fellow-creatures the nearer they come up to the law of perfection, _Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself_. Thirdly, if the words _as thyself_ were to be understood of an equality of affection, it would not be attended with those consequences which perhaps may be thought to follow from it. Suppose a person to have the same settled regard to others as to himself; that in every deliberate scheme or pursuit he took their interest into the account in the same degree as his own, so far as an equality of affection would produce this: yet he would, in fact, and ought to be, much more taken up and employed about himself, and his own concerns, than about others, and their interests. For, besides the one common affection toward himself and his neighbour he would have several other particular affections, passions, appetites, which he could not possibly feel in common both for himself and others. Now these sensations themselves very much employ us, and have perhaps as great influence as self-love. So far indeed as self-love, and cool reflection upon what is for our interest, would set us on work to gain a supply of our own several wants, so far the love of our neighbour would make us do the same for him: but the degree in which we are put upon seeking and making use of the means of gratification, by the feeling of those affections, appetites, and passions, must necessarily be peculiar to ourselves. That there are particular passions (suppose shame, resentment) which men seem to have, and feel in common, both for themselves and others, makes no alteration in respect to those passions and appetites which cannot possibly be thus felt in common. From hence (and perhaps more things of the like kind might be mentioned) it follows, that though there were an equality of affection to both, yet regards to ourselves would be more prevalent than attention to the concerns of others. And from moral considerations it ought to be so, supposing still the equality of affection commanded, because we are in a peculiar manner, as I may speak, intrusted with ourselves, and therefore care of our own interests, as well as of our conduct, particularly belongs to us. To these things must be added, that moral obligations can extend no further than to natural possibilities. Now we have a perception of our own interests, like consciousness of our own existence, which we always carry about with us, and which, in its continuation, kind, and degree, seems impossible to be felt in respect to the interests of others. From all these things it fully appears that though we were to love our neighbour in the same degree as we love ourselves, so far as this is possible, yet the care of ourselves, of the individual, would not be neglected, the apprehended danger of which seems to be the only objection against understanding the precept in this strict sense. III. The general temper of mind which the due love of our neighbour would form us to, and the influence it would have upon our behaviour in life, is now to be considered. The temper and behaviour of charity is explained at large in that known passage of St. Paul: {27} _Charity suffereth long_, _and is kind_; _charity envieth not_, _doth not behave itself unseemly_, _seeketh not her own_, _thinketh no evil_, _beareth all things_, _believeth all things_, _hopeth all things_. As to the meaning of the expressions, _seeketh not her own_, _thinketh no evil_, _believeth all things_; however those expressions may be explained away, this meekness, and in some degree easiness of temper, readiness to forego our right for the sake of peace, as well as in the way of compassion, freedom from mistrust, and disposition to believe well of our neighbour, this general temper, I say, accompanies, and is plainly the effect of love and goodwill. And, though such is the world in which we live, that experience and knowledge of it not only may, but must beget, in as greater regard to ourselves, and doubtfulness of the characters of others, than is natural to mankind, yet these ought not to be carried further than the nature and course of things make necessary. It is still true, even in the present state of things, bad as it is, that a real good man had rather be deceived than be suspicious; had rather forego his known right, than run the venture of doing even a hard thing. This is the general temper of that charity, of which the apostle asserts, that if he had it not, giving his _body to be burned would avail him nothing_; and which he says _shall never fail_. The happy influence of this temper extends to every different relation and circumstance in human life. It plainly renders a man better, more to be desired, as to all the respects and relations we can stand in to each other. The benevolent man is disposed to make use of all external advantages in such a manner as shall contribute to the good of others, as well as to his own satisfaction. His own satisfaction consists in this. He will be easy and kind to his dependents, compassionate to the poor and distressed, friendly to all with whom he has to do. This includes the good neighbour, parent, master, magistrate: and such a behaviour would plainly make dependence, inferiority, and even servitude easy. So that a good or charitable man of superior rank in wisdom, fortune, authority, is a common blessing to the place he lives in: happiness grows under his influence. This good principle in inferiors would discover itself in paying respect, gratitude, obedience, as due. It were therefore, methinks, one just way of trying one's own character to ask ourselves, am I in reality a better master or servant, a better friend, a better neighbour, than such and such persons, whom, perhaps, I may think not to deserve the character of virtue and religion so much as myself? And as to the spirit of party, which unhappily prevails amongst mankind, whatever are the distinctions which serve for a supply to it, some or other of which have obtained in all ages and countries, one who is thus friendly to his kind will immediately make due allowances for it, as what cannot but be amongst such creatures as men, in such a world as this. And as wrath and fury and overbearing upon these occasions proceed, as I may speak, from men's feeling only on their own side, so a common feeling, for others as well as for ourselves, would render us sensible to this truth, which it is strange can have so little influence, that we ourselves differ from others, just as much as they do from us. I put the matter in this way, because it can scarce be expected that the generality of men should see that those things which are made the occasions of dissension and fomenting the party-spirit are really nothing at all: but it may be expected from all people, how much soever they are in earnest about their respective peculiarities, that humanity and common goodwill to their fellow-creatures should moderate and restrain that wretched spirit. This good temper of charity likewise would prevent strife and enmity arising from other occasions: it would prevent our giving just cause of offence, and our taking it without cause. And in cases of real injury, a good man will make all the allowances which are to be made, and, without any attempts of retaliation, he will only consult his own and other men's security for the future against injustice and wrong. IV. I proceed to consider, lastly, what is affirmed of the precept now explained, that it comprehends in it all others, _i.e._, that to love our neighbour as ourselves includes in it all virtues. Now the way in which every maxim of conduct, or general speculative assertion, when it is to be explained at large should be treated, is, to show what are the particular truths which were designed to be comprehended under such a general observation, how far it is strictly true, and then the limitations, restrictions, and exceptions, if there be exceptions, with which it is to be understood. But it is only the former of these, namely, how far the assertion in the text holds, and the ground of the pre-eminence assigned to the precept of it, which in strictness comes into our present consideration. However, in almost everything that is said, there is somewhat to be understood beyond what is explicitly laid down, and which we of course supply, somewhat, I mean, which would not be commonly called a restriction or limitation. Thus, when benevolence is said to be the sum of virtue, it is not spoken of as a blind propension, but a principle in reasonable creatures, and so to be directed by their reason, for reason and reflection comes into our notion of a moral agent. And that will lead us to consider distant consequences, as well as the immediate tendency of an action. It will teach us that the care of some persons, suppose children and families, is particularly committed to our charge by Nature and Providence, as also that there are other circumstances, suppose friendship or former obligations, which require that we do good to some, preferably to others. Reason, considered merely as subservient to benevolence, as assisting to produce the greatest good, will teach us to have particular regard to these relations and circumstances, because it is plainly for the good of the world that they should be regarded. And as there are numberless cases in which, notwithstanding appearances, we are not competent judges, whether a particular action will upon the whole do good or harm, reason in the same way will teach us to be cautious how we act in these cases of uncertainty. It will suggest to our consideration which is the safer side; how liable we are to be led wrong by passion and private interest; and what regard is due to laws, and the judgment of mankind. All these things must come into consideration, were it only in order to determine which way of acting is likely to produce the greatest good. Thus, upon supposition that it were in the strictest sense true, without limitation, that benevolence includes in it all virtues, yet reason must come in as its guide and director, in order to attain its own end, the end of benevolence, the greatest public good. Reason, then, being thus included, let us now consider the truth of the assertion itself. First, It is manifest that nothing can be of consequence to mankind or any creature but happiness. This, then, is all which any person can, in strictness of speaking, be said to have a right to. We can therefore _owe no man anything_, but only to farther and promote his happiness, according to our abilities. And therefore a disposition and endeavour to do good to all with whom we have to do, in the degree and manner which the different relations we stand in to them require, is a discharge of all the obligations we are under to them. As human nature is not one simple uniform thing but a composition of various parts, body, spirit, appetites, particular passions, and affections, for each of which reasonable self-love would lead men to have due regard, and make suitable provision, so society consists of various parts to which we stand in different respects and relations, and just benevolence would as surely lead us to have due regard to each of these and behave as the respective relations require. Reasonable goodwill and right behaviour towards our fellow-creatures are in a manner the same, only that the former expresseth the principle as it is in the mind; the latter, the principle as it were become external, _i.e._, exerted in actions. And so far as temperance, sobriety, and moderation in sensual pleasures, and the contrary vices, have any respect to our fellow-creatures, any influence upon their quiet, welfare, and happiness, as they always have a real, and often a near influence upon it, so far it is manifest those virtues may be produced by the love of our neighbour, and that the contrary vices would be prevented by it. Indeed, if men's regard to themselves will not restrain them from excess, it may be thought little probable that their love to others will be sufficient: but the reason is, that their love to others is not, any more than their regard to themselves, just, and in its due degree. There are, however, manifest instances of persons kept sober and temperate from regard to their affairs, and the welfare of those who depend upon them. And it is obvious to every one that habitual excess, a dissolute course of life, implies a general neglect of the duties we owe towards our friends, our families, and our country. From hence it is manifest that the common virtues and the common vices of mankind may be traced up to benevolence, or the want of it. And this entitles the precept, _Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself_, to the pre-eminence given to it, and is a justification of the apostle's assertion, that all other commandments are comprehended in it, whatever cautions and restrictions {28} there are, which might require to be considered, if we were to state particularly and at length what is virtue and right behaviour in mankind. But, Secondly, It might be added, that in a higher and more general way of consideration, leaving out the particular nature of creatures, and the particular circumstances in which they are placed, benevolence seems in the strictest sense to include in it all that is good and worthy, all that is good, which we have any distinct particular notion of. We have no clear conception of any position moral attribute in the Supreme Being, but what may be resolved up into goodness. And, if we consider a reasonable creature or moral agent, without regard to the particular relations and circumstances in which he is placed, we cannot conceive anything else to come in towards determining whether he is to be ranked in a higher or lower class of virtuous beings, but the higher or lower degree in which that principle, and what is manifestly connected with it, prevail in him. That which we more strictly call piety, or the love of God, and which is an essential part of a right temper, some may perhaps imagine no way connected with benevolence: yet surely they must be connected, if there be indeed in being an object infinitely good. Human nature is so constituted that every good affection implies the love of itself, _i.e._, becomes the object of a new affection in the same person. Thus, to be righteous, implies in it the love of righteousness; to be benevolent, the love of benevolence; to be good, the love of goodness; whether this righteousness, benevolence, or goodness be viewed as in our own mind or another's, and the love of God as a being perfectly good is the love of perfect goodness contemplated in a being or person. Thus morality and religion, virtue and piety, will at last necessarily coincide, run up into one and the same point, and _love_ will be in all senses _the end of the commandment_. * * * * * _O Almighty God_, _inspire us with this divine principle_; _kill in us all the seeds of envy and ill-will_; _and help us_, _by cultivating within ourselves the love of our neighbour_, _to improve in the love of Thee_. _Thou hast placed us in various kindreds_, _friendships_, _and relations_, _as the school of discipline for our affections_: _help us_, _by the due exercise of them_, _to improve to perfection_; _till all partial affection be lost in that entire universal one_, _and thou_, _O God_, _shalt_ be all in all. SERMON XIII., XIV. UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. MATTHEW xxii. 37. _Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart_, _and with all thy soul_, _and with all thy mind_. Everybody knows, you therefore need only just be put in mind, that there is such a thing as having so great horror of one extreme as to run insensibly and of course into the contrary; and that a doctrine's having been a shelter for enthusiasm, or made to serve the purposes of superstition, is no proof of the falsity of it: truth or right being somewhat real in itself, and so not to be judged of by its liableness to abuse, or by its supposed distance from or nearness to error. It may be sufficient to have mentioned this in general, without taking notice of the particular extravagances which have been vented under the pretence or endeavour of explaining the love of God; or how manifestly we are got into the contrary extreme, under the notion of a reasonable religion; so very reasonable as to have nothing to do with the heart and affections, if these words signify anything but the faculty by which we discern speculative truth. By the love of God I would understand all those regards, all those affections of mind which are due immediately to Him from such a creature as man, and which rest in Him as their end. As this does not include servile fear, so neither will any other regards, how reasonable soever, which respect anything out of or besides the perfection of the Divine nature, come into consideration here. But all fear is not excluded, because His displeasure is itself the natural proper object of fear. Reverence, ambition of His love and approbation, delight in the hope or consciousness of it, come likewise into this definition of the love of God, because He is the natural object of all those affections or movements of mind as really as He is the object of the affection, which is in the strictest sense called love; and all of them equally rest in Him as their end. And they may all be understood to be implied in these words of our Saviour, without putting any force upon them: for He is speaking of the love of God and our neighbour as containing the whole of piety and virtue. It is plain that the nature of man is so constituted as to feel certain affections upon the sight or contemplation of certain objects. Now the very notion of affection implies resting in its object as an end. And the particular affection to good characters, reverence and moral love of them, is natural to all those who have any degree of real goodness in themselves. This will be illustrated by the description of a perfect character in a creature; and by considering the manner in which a good man in his presence would be affected towards such a character. He would of course feel the affections of love, reverence, desire of his approbation, delight in the hope or consciousness of it. And surely all this is applicable, and may be brought up to that Being, who is infinitely more than an adequate object of all those affections; whom we are commanded to _love with all our heart_, _with all our soul_, _and with all our mind_. And of these regards towards Almighty God some are more particularly suitable to and becoming so imperfect a creature as man, in this mortal state we are passing through; and some of them, and perhaps other exercises of the mind, will be the employment and happiness of good men in a state of perfection. This is a general view of what the following discourse will contain. And it is manifest the subject is a real one: there is nothing in it enthusiastical or unreasonable. And if it be indeed at all a subject, it is one of the utmost importance. As mankind have a faculty by which they discern speculative truth, so we have various affections towards external objects. Understanding and temper, reason and affection, are as distinct ideas as reason and hunger, and one would think could no more be confounded. It is by reason that we get the ideas of several objects of our affections; but in these cases reason and affection are no more the same than sight of a particular object, and the pleasure or uneasiness consequent thereupon, are the same. Now as reason tends to and rests in the discernment of truth, the object of it, so the very nature of affection consists in tending towards, and resting in, its objects as an end. We do indeed often in common language say that things are loved, desired, esteemed, not for themselves, but for somewhat further, somewhat out of and beyond them; yet, in these cases, whoever will attend will see that these things are not in reality the objects of the affections, _i.e._ are not loved, desired, esteemed, but the somewhat further and beyond them. If we have no affections which rest in what are called their objects, then what is called affection, love, desire, hope, in human nature, is only an uneasiness in being at rest; an unquiet disposition to action, progress, pursuit, without end or meaning. But if there be any such thing as delight in the company of one person, rather than of another; whether in the way of friendship, or mirth and entertainment, it is all one, if it be without respect to fortune, honour, or increasing our stores of knowledge, or anything beyond the present time; here is an instance of an affection absolutely resting in its object as its end, and being gratified in the same way as the appetite of hunger is satisfied with food. Yet nothing is more common than to hear it asked, what advantage a man hath in such a course, suppose of study, particular friendships, or in any other; nothing, I say, is more common than to hear such a question put in a way which supposes no gain, advantage, or interest, but as a means to somewhat further: and if so, then there is no such thing at all as real interest, gain, or advantage. This is the same absurdity with respect to life as an infinite series of effects without a cause is in speculation. The gain, advantage, or interest consists in the delight itself, arising from such a faculty's having its object: neither is there any such thing as happiness or enjoyment but what arises from hence. The pleasures of hope and of reflection are not exceptions: the former being only this happiness anticipated; the latter the same happiness enjoyed over again after its time. And even the general expectation of future happiness can afford satisfaction only as it is a present object to the principle of self-love. It was doubtless intended that life should be very much a pursuit to the gross of mankind. But this is carried so much further than is reasonable that what gives immediate satisfaction, _i.e._ our present interest, is scarce considered as our interest at all. It is inventions which have only a remote tendency towards enjoyment, perhaps but a remote tendency towards gaining the means only of enjoyment, which are chiefly spoken of as useful to the world. And though this way of thinking were just with respect to the imperfect state we are now in, where we know so little of satisfaction without satiety, yet it must be guarded against when we are considering the happiness of a state of perfection; which happiness being enjoyment and not hope, must necessarily consist in this, that our affections have their objects, and rest in those objects as an end, _i.e._ be satisfied with them. This will further appear in the sequel of this discourse. Of the several affections, or inward sensations, which particular objects excite in man, there are some, the having of which implies the love of them, when they are reflected upon. {29} This cannot be said of all our affections, principles, and motives of action. It were ridiculous to assert that a man upon reflection hath the same kind of approbation of the appetite of hunger or the passion of fear as he hath of goodwill to his fellow-creatures. To be a just, a good, a righteous man, plainly carries with it a peculiar affection to or love of justice, goodness, righteousness, when these principles are the objects of contemplation. Now if a man approves of, or hath an affection to, any principle in and for itself, incidental things allowed for, it will be the same whether he views it in his own mind or in another; in himself or in his neighbour. This is the account of our approbation of, or moral love and affection to good characters; which cannot but be in those who have any degrees of real goodness in themselves, and who discern and take notice of the same principle in others. From observation of what passes within ourselves, our own actions, and the behaviour of others, the mind may carry on its reflections as far as it pleases; much beyond what we experience in ourselves, or discern in our fellow creatures. It may go on and consider goodness as become a uniform continued principle of action, as conducted by reason, and forming a temper and character absolutely good and perfect, which is in a higher sense excellent, and proportionably the object of love and approbation. Let us then suppose a creature perfect according to his created nature--let his form be human, and his capacities no more than equal to those of the chief of men--goodness shall be his proper character, with wisdom to direct it, and power within some certain determined sphere of action to exert it: but goodness must be the simple actuating principle within him; this being the moral quality which is amiable, or the immediate object of love as distinct from other affections of approbation. Here then is a finite object for our mind to tend towards, to exercise itself upon: a creature, perfect according to his capacity, fixed, steady, equally unmoved by weak pity or more weak fury and resentment; forming the justest scheme of conduct; going on undisturbed in the execution of it, through the several methods of severity and reward, towards his end, namely, the general happiness of all with whom he hath to do, as in itself right and valuable. This character, though uniform in itself, in its principle, yet exerting itself in different ways, or considered in different views, may by its appearing variety move different affections. Thus, the severity of justice would not affect us in the same way as an act of mercy. The adventitious qualities of wisdom and power may be considered in themselves; and even the strength of mind which this immovable goodness supposes may likewise be viewed as an object of contemplation distinct from the goodness itself. Superior excellence of any kind, as well as superior wisdom and power, is the object of awe and reverence to all creatures, whatever their moral character be; but so far as creatures of the lowest rank were good, so far the view of this character, as simply good, must appear amiable to them, be the object of, or beget love. Further suppose we were conscious that this superior person so far approved of us that we had nothing servilely to fear from him; that he was really our friend, and kind and good to us in particular, as he had occasionally intercourse with us: we must be other creatures than we are, or we could not but feel the same kind of satisfaction and enjoyment (whatever would be the degree of it) from this higher acquaintance and friendship as we feel from common ones, the intercourse being real and the persons equally present in both cases. We should have a more ardent desire to be approved by his better judgment, and a satisfaction in that approbation of the same sort with what would be felt in respect to common persons, or be wrought in us by their presence. Let us now raise the character, and suppose this creature, for we are still going on with the supposition of a creature, our proper guardian and governor; that we were in a progress of being towards somewhat further; and that his scheme of government was too vast for our capacities to comprehend: remembering still that he is perfectly good, and our friend as well as our governor. Wisdom, power, goodness, accidentally viewed anywhere, would inspire reverence, awe, love; and as these affections would be raised in higher or lower degrees in proportion as we had occasionally more or less intercourse with the creature endued with those qualities, so this further consideration and knowledge that he was our proper guardian and governor would much more bring these objects and qualities home to ourselves; teach us they had a greater respect to us in particular, that we had a higher interest in that wisdom and power and goodness. We should, with joy, gratitude, reverence, love, trust, and dependence, appropriate the character, as what we had a right in, and make our boast in such our relation to it. And the conclusion of the whole would be that we should refer ourselves implicitly to him, and cast ourselves entirely upon him. As the whole attention of life should be to obey his commands, so the highest enjoyment of it must arise from the contemplation of this character, and our relation to it, from a consciousness of his favour and approbation, and from the exercise of those affections towards him which could not but be raised from his presence. A Being who hath these attributes, who stands in this relation, and is thus sensibly present to the mind, must necessarily be the object of these affections: there is as real a correspondence between them as between the lowest appetite of sense and its object. That this Being is not a creature, but the Almighty God; that He is of infinite power and wisdom and goodness, does not render Him less the object of reverence and love than He would be if He had those attributes only in a limited degree. The Being who made us, and upon whom we entirely depend, is the object of some regards. He hath given us certain affections of mind, which correspond to wisdom, power, goodness, _i.e._ which are raised upon view of those qualities. If then He be really wise, powerful, good, He is the natural object of those affections which He hath endued us with, and which correspond to those attributes. That He is infinite in power, perfect in wisdom and goodness, makes no alteration, but only that He is the object of those affections raised to the highest pitch. He is not, indeed, to be discerned by any of our senses. _I go forward_, _but He is not there_; _and backward_, _but I cannot perceive Him_: _on the left hand where He doth work_, _but I cannot behold Him_: _He hideth Himself on the right hand_, _that I cannot see Him_, _Oh that I knew where I might find Him_! _that I might come even to His seat_! {30} But is He then afar off? does He not fill heaven and earth with His presence? The presence of our fellow-creatures affects our senses, and our senses give us the knowledge of their presence; which hath different kinds of influence upon us--love, joy, sorrow, restraint, encouragement, reverence. However, this influence is not immediately from our senses, but from that knowledge. Thus suppose a person neither to see nor hear another, not to know by any of his senses, but yet certainly to know, that another was with him; this knowledge might, and in many cases would, have one or more of the effects before mentioned. It is therefore not only reasonable, but also natural, to be affected with a presence, though it be not the object of our senses; whether it be, or be not, is merely an accidental circumstance, which needs not come into consideration: it is the certainty that he is with us, and we with him, which hath the influence. We consider persons then as present, not only when they are within reach of our senses, but also when we are assured by any other means that they are within such a nearness; nay, if they are not, we can recall them to our mind, and be moved towards them as present; and must He, who is so much more intimately with us, that _in Him we live and move and have our being_, be thought too distant to be the object of our affections? We own and feel the force of amiable and worthy qualities in our fellow creatures; and can we be insensible to the contemplation of perfect goodness? Do we reverence the shadows of greatness here below, are we solicitous about honour and esteem and the opinion of the world, and shall we not feel the same with respect to Him whose are wisdom and power in the original, who _is the God of judgment by whom actions are weighed_? Thus love, reverence, desire of esteem, every faculty, every affection, tends towards and is employed about its respective object in common cases: and must the exercise of them be suspended with regard to Him alone who is an object, an infinitely more than adequate object, to our most exalted faculties; Him, _of whom_, _and through whom_, _and to whom are all things_? As we cannot remove from this earth, or change our general business on it, so neither can we alter our real nature. Therefore no exercise of the mind can be recommended, but only the exercise of those faculties you are conscious of. Religion does not demand new affections, but only claims the direction of those you already have, those affections you daily feel; though unhappily confined to objects not altogether unsuitable but altogether unequal to them. We only represent to you the higher, the adequate objects of those very faculties and affections. Let the man of ambition go on still to consider disgrace as the greatest evil, honour as his chief good. But disgrace in whose estimation? Honour in whose judgment? This is the only question. If shame, and delight in esteem, be spoken of as real, as any settled ground of pain or pleasure, both these must be in proportion to the supposed wisdom, and worth of him by whom we are contemned or esteemed. Must it then be thought enthusiastical to speak of a sensibility of this sort which shall have respect to an unerring judgment, to infinite wisdom, when we are assured this unerring judgment, this infinite wisdom does observe upon our actions? It is the same with respect to the love of God in the strictest and most confined sense. We only offer and represent the highest object of an affection supposed already in your mind. Some degree of goodness must be previously supposed; this always implies the love of itself, an affection to goodness: the highest, the adequate object of this affection, is perfect goodness; which therefore we are to _love with all our heart_, _with all our soul_, _and with all our strength_. "Must we then, forgetting our own interest, as it were go out of ourselves, and love God for His own sake?" No more forget your own interest, no more go out of yourselves, than when you prefer one place, one prospect, the conversation of one man to that of another. Does not every affection necessarily imply that the object of it be itself loved? If it be not it is not the object of the affection. You may, and ought if you can, but it is a great mistake to think you can love or fear or hate anything, from consideration that such love or fear or hatred may be a means of obtaining good or avoiding evil. But the question whether we ought to love God for His sake or for our own being a mere mistake in language, the real question which this is mistaken for will, I suppose, be answered by observing that the goodness of God already exercised towards us, our present dependence upon Him, and our expectation of future benefits, ought, and have a natural tendency, to beget in us the affection of gratitude, and greater love towards Him, than the same goodness exercised towards others; were it only for this reason, that every affection is moved in proportion to the sense we have of the object of it; and we cannot but have a more lively sense of goodness when exercised towards ourselves than when exercised towards others. I added expectation of future benefits because the ground of that expectation is present goodness. Thus Almighty God is the natural object of the several affections, love, reverence, fear, desire of approbation. For though He is simply one, yet we cannot but consider Him in partial and different views. He is in himself one uniform Being, and for ever the same without _variableness or shadow of turning_; but His infinite greatness, His goodness, His wisdom, are different objects to our mind. To which is to be added, that from the changes in our own characters, together with His unchangeableness, we cannot but consider ourselves as more or less the objects of His approbation, and really be so. For if He approves what is good, He cannot, merely from the unchangeableness of His nature, approve what is evil. Hence must arise more various movements of mind, more different kinds of affections. And this greater variety also is just and reasonable in such creatures as we are, though it respects a Being simply one, good and perfect. As some of these actions are most particularly suitable to so imperfect a creature as man in this mortal state we are passing through, so there may be other exercises of mind, or some of these in higher degrees, our employment and happiness in a state of perfection. SERMON XIV. Consider then our ignorance, the imperfection of our nature, our virtue, and our condition in this world, with respect to aim infinitely good and just Being, our Creator and Governor, and you will see what religious affections of mind are most particularly suitable to this mortal state we are passing through. Though we are not affected with anything so strongly as what we discern with our senses, and though our nature and condition require that we be much taken up about sensible things, yet our reason convinces us that God is present with us, and we see and feel the effects of His goodness: He is therefore the object of some regards. The imperfection of our virtue, joined with the consideration of His absolute rectitude or holiness, will scarce permit that perfection of love which entirely casts out all fear: yet goodness is the object of love to all creatures who have any degree of it themselves; and consciousness of a real endeavour to approve ourselves to Him, joined with the consideration of His goodness, as it quite excludes servile dread and horror, so it is plainly a reasonable ground for hope of His favour. Neither fear nor hope nor love then are excluded, and one or another of these will prevail, according to the different views we have of God, and ought to prevail, according to the changes we find in our own character. There is a temper of mind made up of, or which follows from all three, fear, hope, love--namely, resignation to the Divine will, which is the general temper belonging to this state; which ought to be the habitual frame of our mind and heart, and to be exercised at proper seasons more distinctly, in acts of devotion. Resignation to the will of God is the whole of piety. It includes in it all that is good, and is a source of the most settled quiet and composure of mind. There is the general principle of submission in our nature. Man is not so constituted as to desire things, and be uneasy in the want of them, in proportion to their known value: many other considerations come in to determine the degrees of desire; particularly whether the advantage we take a view of be within the sphere of our rank. Whoever felt uneasiness upon observing any of the advantages brute creatures have over us? And yet it is plain they have several. It is the same with respect to advantages belonging to creatures of a superior order. Thus, though we see a thing to be highly valuable, yet that it does not belong to our condition of being is sufficient to suspend our desires after it, to make us rest satisfied without such advantage. Now there is just the same reason for quiet resignation in the want of everything equally unattainable and out of our reach in particular, though others of our species be possessed of it. All this may be applied to the whole of life; to positive inconveniences as well as wants, not indeed to the sensations of pain and sorrow, but to all the uneasinesses of reflection, murmuring, and discontent. Thus is human nature formed to compliance, yielding, submission of temper. We find the principles of it within us; and every one exercises it towards some objects or other, _i.e._ feels it with regard to some persons and some circumstances. Now this is an excellent foundation of a reasonable and religious resignation. Nature teaches and inclines as to take up with our lot; the consideration that the course of things is unalterable hath a tendency to quiet the mind under it, to beget a submission of temper to it. But when we can add that this unalterable course is appointed and continued by infinite wisdom and goodness, how absolute should be our submission, how entire our trust and dependence! This would reconcile us to our condition, prevent all the supernumerary troubles arising from imagination, distant fears, impatience--all uneasiness, except that which necessarily arises from the calamities themselves we may be under. How many of our cares should we by this means be disburdened of! Cares not properly our own, how apt soever they may be to intrude upon us, and we to admit them; the anxieties of expectation, solicitude about success and disappointment, which in truth are none of our concern. How open to every gratification would that mind be which was clear of these encumbrances! Our resignation to the will of God may be said to be perfect when our will is lost and resolved up into His: when we rest in His will as our end, as being itself most just and right and good. And where is the impossibility of such an affection to what is just, and right, and good, such a loyalty of heart to the Governor of the universe as shall prevail over all sinister indirect desires of our own? Neither is this at bottom anything more than faith and honesty and fairness of mind--in a more enlarged sense indeed than those words are commonly used. And as, in common cases, fear and hope and other passions are raised in us by their respective objects, so this submission of heart and soul and mind, this religious resignation, would be as naturally produced by our having just conceptions of Almighty God, and a real sense of His presence with us. In how low a degree soever this temper usually prevails amongst men, yet it is a temper right in itself: it is what we owe to our Creator: it is particularly suitable to our mortal condition, and what we should endeavour after for our own sakes in our passage through such a world as this, where is nothing upon which we can rest or depend, nothing but what we are liable to be deceived and disappointed in. Thus we might _acquaint ourselves with God_, _and be at peace_. This is piety an religion in the strictest sense, considered as a habit of mind: an habitual sense of God's presence with us; being affected towards Him, as present, in the manner His superior nature requires from such a creature as man: this is to _walk with God_. Little more need be said of devotion or religious worship than that it is this temper exerted into act. The nature of it consists in the actual exercise of those affections towards God which are supposed habitual in good men. He is always equally present with us: but we are so much taken up with sensible things that, _Lo_, _He goeth by us_, _and we see Him not_: _He passeth on also_, _but we perceive Him not_. {31} Devotion is retirement from the world He has made to Him alone: it is to withdraw from the avocations of sense, to employ our attention wholly upon Him as upon an object actually present, to yield ourselves up to the influence of the Divine presence, and to give full scope to the affections of gratitude, love, reverence, trust, and dependence; of which infinite power, wisdom, and goodness is the natural and only adequate object. We may apply to the whole of devotion those words of the Son of Sirach, _When you glorify the Lord_, _exalt Him as much as you can_; _for even yet will He far exceed_: _and when you exalt Him_, _put forth all your strength_, _and be not weary_; _for you can never go far enough_. {32} Our most raised affections of every kind cannot but fall short and be disproportionate when an infinite being is the object of them. This is the highest exercise and employment of mind that a creature is capable of. As this divine service and worship is itself absolutely due to God, so also is it necessary in order to a further end, to keep alive upon our minds a sense of His authority, a sense that in our ordinary behaviour amongst men we act under him as our Governor and Judge. Thus you see the temper of mind respecting God which is particularly suitable to a state of imperfection, to creatures in a progress of being towards somewhat further. Suppose now this something further attained, that we were arrived at it, what a perception will it be to see and know and feel that our trust was not vain, our dependence not groundless? That the issue, event, and consummation came out such as fully to justify and answer that resignation? If the obscure view of the divine perfection which we have in this world ought in just consequence to beget an entire resignation, what will this resignation be exalted into when _we shall see face to face_, _and know as we are known_? If we cannot form any distinct notion of that perfection of the love of God which _casts out all fear_, of that enjoyment of Him which will be the happiness of good men hereafter, the consideration of our wants and capacities of happiness, and that He will be adequate supply to them, must serve us instead of such distinct conception of the particular happiness itself. Let us then suppose a man entirely disengaged from business and pleasure, sitting down alone and at leisure, to reflect upon himself and his own condition of being. He would immediately feel that he was by no means complete of himself, but totally insufficient for his own happiness. One may venture to affirm that every man hath felt this, whether he hath again reflected upon it or not. It is feeling this deficiency, that they are unsatisfied with themselves, which makes men look out for assistance from abroad, and which has given rise to various kinds of amusements, altogether needless any otherwise than as they serve to fill up the blank spaces of time, and so hinder their feeling this deficiency, and being uneasy with themselves. Now, if these external things we take up with were really an adequate supply to this deficiency of human nature, if by their means our capacities and desires were all satisfied and filled up, then it might be truly said that we had found out the proper happiness of man, and so might sit down satisfied, and be at rest in the enjoyment of it. But if it appears that the amusements which men usually pass their time in are so far from coming up to or answering our notions and desires of happiness or good that they are really no more than what they are commonly called, somewhat to pass away the time, _i.e._ somewhat which serves to turn us aside from, and prevent our attending to, this our internal poverty and want; if they serve only, or chiefly, to suspend instead of satisfying our conceptions and desires of happiness; if the want remains, and we have found out little more than barely the means of making it less sensible; then are we still to seek for somewhat to be an adequate supply to it. It is plain that there is a capacity in the nature of man which neither riches nor honours nor sensual gratifications, nor anything in this world, can perfectly fill up or satisfy: there is a deeper and more essential want than any of these things can be the supply of. Yet surely there is a possibility of somewhat which may fill up all our capacities of happiness, somewhat in which our souls may find rest, somewhat which may be to us that satisfactory good we are inquiring after. But it cannot be anything which is valuable only as it tends to some further end. Those therefore who have got this world so much into their hearts as not to be able to consider happiness as consisting in anything but property and possessions--which are only valuable as the means to somewhat else--cannot have the least glimpse of the subject before us, which is the end, not the means; the thing itself, not somewhat in order to it. But if you can lay aside that general, confused, undeterminate notion of happiness, as consisting in such possessions, and fix in your thoughts that it really can consist in nothing but in a faculty's having its proper object, you will clearly see that in the coolest way of consideration, without either the heat of fanciful enthusiasm or the warmth of real devotion, nothing is more certain than that an infinite Being may Himself be, if He pleases, the supply to all the capacities of our nature. All the common enjoyments of life are from the faculties He hath endued us with and the objects He hath made suitable to them. He may Himself be to us infinitely more than all these; He may be to us all that we want. As our understanding can contemplate itself, and our affections be exercised upon themselves by reflection, so may each be employed in the same manner upon any other mind; and since the Supreme Mind, the Author and Cause of all things, is the highest possible object to Himself, He may be an adequate supply to all the faculties of our souls, a subject to our understanding, and an object to our affections. Consider then: when we shall have put off this mortal body, when we shall be divested of sensual appetites, and those possessions which are now the means of gratification shall be of no avail, when this restless scene of business and vain pleasures, which now diverts us from ourselves, shall be all over, we, our proper self, shall still remain: we shall still continue the same creatures we are, with wants to be supplied and capacities of happiness. We must have faculties of perception, though not sensitive ones; and pleasure or uneasiness from our perceptions, as now we have. There are certain ideas which we express by the words order, harmony, proportion, beauty, the furthest removed from anything sensual. Now what is there in those intellectual images, forms, or ideas, which begets that approbation, love, delight, and even rapture, which is seen in some persons' faces upon having those objects present to their minds?--"Mere enthusiasm!"--Be it what it will: there are objects, works of nature and of art, which all mankind have delight from quite distinct from their affording gratification to sensual appetites, and from quite another view of them than as being for their interest and further advantage. The faculties from which we are capable of these pleasures, and the pleasures themselves, are as natural, and as much to be accounted for, as any sensual appetite whatever, and the pleasure from its gratification. Words to be sure are wanting upon this subject; to say that everything of grace and beauty throughout the whole of nature, everything excellent and amiable shared in differently lower degrees by the whole creation, meet in the Author and Cause of all things, this is an inadequate and perhaps improper way of speaking of the Divine nature; but it is manifest that absolute rectitude, the perfection of being, must be in all senses, and in every respect, the highest object to the mind. In this world it is only the effects of wisdom and power and greatness which we discern; it is not impossible that hereafter the qualities themselves in the supreme Being may be the immediate object of contemplation. What amazing wonders are opened to view by late improvements! What an object is the universe to a creature, if there be a creature who can comprehend its system! But it must be an infinitely higher exercise of the understanding to view the scheme of it in that mind which projected it before its foundations were laid. And surely we have meaning to the words when we speak of going further, and viewing, not only this system in His mind, but the wisdom and intelligence itself from whence it proceeded. The same may be said of power. But since wisdom and power are not God, He is a wise, a powerful Being; the divine nature may therefore be a further object to the understanding. It is nothing to observe that our senses give us but an imperfect knowledge of things: effects themselves, if we knew them thoroughly, would give us but imperfect notions of wisdom and power; much less of His being in whom they reside. I am not speaking of any fanciful notion of seeing all things in God, but only representing to you how much a higher object to the understanding an infinite Being Himself is than the things which He has made; and this is no more than saying that the Creator is superior to the works of His hands. This may be illustrated by a low example. Suppose a machine, the sight of which would raise, and discoveries in its contrivance gratify, our curiosity: the real delight in this case would arise from its being the effect of skill and contrivance. This skill in the mind of the artificer would be a higher object, if we had any senses or ways to discern it. For, observe, the contemplation of that principle, faculty, or power which produced any effect must be a higher exercise of the understanding than the contemplation of the effect itself. The cause must be a higher object to the mind than the effect. But whoever considers distinctly what the delight of knowledge is will see reason to be satisfied that it cannot be the chief good of man: all this, as it is applicable, so it was mentioned with regard to the attribute of goodness. I say goodness. Our being and all our enjoyments are the effects of it: just men bear its resemblance; but how little do we know of the original, of what it is in itself? Recall what was before observed concerning the affection to moral characters--which, in how low a degree soever, yet is plainly natural to man, and the most excellent part of his nature. Suppose this improved, as it may be improved, to any degree whatever, in the _spirits of just men made perfect_; and then suppose that they had a real view of that _righteousness which is an everlasting righteousness_, of the conformity of the Divine will to _the law of truth_ in which the moral attributes of God consist, of that goodness in the sovereign Mind which gave birth to the universe. Add, what will be true of all good men hereafter, a consciousness of having an interest in what they are contemplating--suppose them able to say, _This God is our God for ever and ever_. Would they be any longer to seek for what was their chief happiness, their final good? Could the utmost stretch of their capacities look further? Would not infinite perfect goodness be their very end, the last end and object of their affections, beyond which they could neither have nor desire, beyond which they could not form a wish or thought? Consider wherein that presence of a friend consists which has often so strong an effect as wholly to possess the mind, and entirely suspend all other affections and regards, and which itself affords the highest satisfaction and enjoyment. He is within reach of the senses. Now as our capacities of perception improve we shall have, perhaps by some faculty entirely new, a perception of God's presence with us in a nearer and stricter way, since it is certain He is more intimately present with us than anything else can be. Proof of the existence and presence of any being is quite different from the immediate perception, the consciousness of it. What then will be the joy of heart which His presence and _the light of His countenance_, who is the life of the universe, will inspire good men with when they shall have a sensation that He is the sustainer of their being, that they exist in Him; when they shall feel His influence to cheer and enliven and support their frame, in a manner of which we have now no conception? He will be in a literal sense _their strength and their portion for ever_. When we speak of things so much above our comprehension as the employment and happiness of a future state, doubtless it behoves us to speak with all modesty and distrust of ourselves. But the Scripture represents the happiness of that state under the notions of _seeing God_, _seeing Him as He is_, _knowing as we are known_, _and seeing face to face_. These words are not general or undetermined, but express a particular determinate happiness. And I will be bold to say that nothing can account for or come up to these expressions but only this, that God Himself will be an object to our faculties, that He Himself will be our happiness as distinguished from the enjoyments of the present state, which seem to arise not immediately from Him but from the objects He has adapted to give us delight. To conclude: Let us suppose a person tired with care and sorrow and the repetition of vain delights which fill up the round of life; sensible that everything here below in its best estate is altogether vanity. Suppose him to feel that deficiency of human nature before taken notice of, and to be convinced that God alone was the adequate supply to it. What could be more applicable to a good man in this state of mind, or better express his present wants and distant hopes, his passage through this world as a progress towards a state of perfection, than the following passages in the devotions of the royal prophet? They are plainly in a higher and more proper sense applicable to this than they could be to anything else. _I have seen an end of all perfection_. _Whom have I in heaven but Thee_? _And there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison of Thee_. _My flesh and may heart faileth_: _but God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever_. _Like as the hart desireth the water-brooks_, _so longeth my soul after Thee_, _O God_. _My soul is athirst for God_, _yea_, _even for the living God_: _when shall I come to appear before Him_? _How excellent is Thy loving-kindness_, _O God_! _and the children of men shall put their trust under the shadow of Thy wings_. _They shall be satisfied with the plenteousness of Thy house_: _and Thou shalt give them drink of Thy pleasures_, _as out of the river_. _For with Thee is the well of life_: _and in Thy light shall we see light_. _Blessed is the man whom Thou choosest_, _and receivest unto Thee_: _he shall dwell in Thy court_, _and shall be satisfied with the pleasures of Thy house_, _even of Thy holy temple_. _Blessed is the people_, _O Lord_, _that can rejoice in Thee_: _they shall walk in the light of Thy countenance_. _Their delight shall be daily in Thy name_, _and in Thy righteousness shall they make their boast_. _For Thou art the glory of their strength_: _and in Thy lovingkindness they shall be exalted_. _As for me_, _I will behold Thy presence in righteousness_: _and when I awake up after Thy likeness_, _I shall be satisfied with it_. _Thou shalt shew me the path of life_; _in Thy presence is the fulness of joy_, _and at Thy right hand there is pleasure for evermore_. Footnotes: {1} 1 Cor. xii {2} Suppose a man of learning to be writing a grave book upon _human nature_, and to show in several parts of it that he had an insight into the subject he was considering, amongst other things, the following one would require to be accounted for--the appearance of benevolence or good- will in men towards each other in the instances of natural relation, and in others. {2a} Cautions of being deceived with outward show, he retires within himself to see exactly what that is in the mind of man from whence this appearance proceeds; and, upon deep reflection, asserts the principle in the mind to be only the love of power, and delight in the exercise of it. Would not everybody think here was a mistake of one word for another--that the philosopher was contemplating and accounting for some other _human actions_, some other behaviour of man to man? And could any one be thoroughly satisfied that what is commonly called benevolence or good-will was really the affection meant, but only by being made to understand that this learned person had a general hypothesis, to which the appearance of good-will could no otherwise be reconciled? That what has this appearance is often nothing but ambition; that delight in superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself with benevolence, only makes it more specious to call it ambition than hunger, of the two: but in reality that passion does no more account for the whole appearances of good-will than this appetite does. Is there not often the appearance of one man's wishing that good to another, which he knows himself unable to procure him; and rejoicing in it, though bestowed by a third person? And can love of power any way possibly come in to account for this desire or delight? Is there not often the appearance of men's distinguishing between two or more persons, preferring one before another, to do good to, in cases where love of power cannot in the least account for the distinction and preference? For this principle can no otherwise distinguish between objects than as it is a greater instance and exertion of power to do good to one rather than to another. Again, suppose good-will in the mind of man to be nothing but delight in the exercise of power: men might indeed be restrained by distant and accidental consideration; but these restraints being removed, they would have a disposition to, and delight in, mischief as an exercise and proof of power: and this disposition and delight would arise from, or be the same principle in the mind, as a disposition to and delight in charity. Thus cruelty, as distinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly the same in the mind of man as good-will: that one tends to the happiness, the other to the misery, of our fellow-creatures, is, it seems, merely an accidental circumstance, which the mind has not the least regard to. These are the absurdities which even men of capacity run into when they have occasion to belie their nature, and will perversely disclaim that image of God which was originally stamped upon it, the traces of which, however faint, are plainly discernible upon the mind of man. If any person can in earnest doubt whether there be such a thing as good- will in one man towards another (for the question is not concerning either the degree or extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection itself), let it be observed that _whether man be thus_, _or otherwise constituted_, _what is the inward frame in this particular_ is a mere question of fact of natural history not provable immediately by reason. It is therefore to be judged of and determined in the same way other facts or matters of natural history are--by appealing to the external senses, or inward perceptions respectively, as the matter under consideration is cognisable by one or the other: by arguing from acknowledged facts and actions for a great number of actions in the same kind, in different circumstances, and respecting different objects, will prove to a certainty what principles they do not, and to the greatest probability what principles they do, proceed from: and, lastly, by the testimony of mankind. Now that there is some degree of benevolence amongst men may be as strongly and plainly proved in all these ways, as it could possibly be proved, supposing there was this affection in our nature. And should any one think fit to assert that resentment in the mind of man was absolutely nothing but reasonable concern for our own safety, the falsity of this, and what is the real nature of that passion, could be shown in no other ways than those in which it may be shown that there is such a thing in _some degree_ as real good-will in man towards man. It is sufficient that the seeds of it be implanted in our nature by God. There is, it is owned, much left for us to do upon our own heart and temper; to cultivate, to improve, to call it forth, to exercise it in a steady, uniform manner. This is our work: this is virtue and religion. {2a} Hobbes, "Of Human Nature," c. ix. 7. {3} Everybody makes a distinction between self-love and the several particular passions, appetites, and affections; and yet they are often confounded again. That they are totally different, will be seen by any one who will distinguish between the passions and appetites _themselves_, and _endeavouring_ after the means of their gratification. Consider the appetite of hunger, and the desire of esteem: these being the occasion both of pleasure and pain, the coolest self-love, as well as the appetites and passions themselves, may put us upon making use of the _proper methods of obtaining_ that pleasure, and avoiding that pain; but the _feelings_ themselves, the pain of hunger and shame, and the delight from esteem, are no more self-love than they are anything in the world. Though a man hated himself, he would as much feel the pain of hunger as he would that of the gout; and it is plainly supposable there may be creatures with self-love in them to the highest degree, who may be quite insensible and indifferent (as men in some cases are) to the contempt and esteem of those upon whom their happiness does not in some further respects depend. And as self-love and the several particular passions and appetites are in themselves totally different, so that some actions proceed from one and some from the other will be manifest to any who will observe the two following very supposable cases. One man rushes upon certain ruin for the gratification of a present desire: nobody will call the principle of this action self-love. Suppose another man to go through some laborious work upon promise of a great reward, without any distinct knowledge what the reward will be: this course of action cannot be ascribed to any particular passion. The former of these actions is plainly to be imputed to some particular passion or affection; the latter as plainly to the general affection or principle of self-love. That there are some particular pursuits or actions concerning which we cannot determine how far they are owing to one, and how far to the other, proceeds from this, that the two principles are frequently mixed together, and run up into each other. This distinction is further explained in the Eleventh Sermon. {4} If any desire to see this distinction and comparison made in a particular instance, the appetite and passion now mentioned may serve for one. Hunger is to be considered as a private appetite, because the end for which it was given us is the preservation of the individual. Desire of esteem is a public passion; because the end for which it was given us is to regulate our behaviour towards society. The respect which this has to private good is as remote as the respect that has to public good; and the appetite is no more self-love than the passion is benevolence. The object and end of the former is merely food; the object and end of the latter is merely esteem; but the latter can no more be gratified without contributing to the good of society, than the former can be gratified without contributing to the preservation of the individual. {5} Emulation is merely the desire and hope of equality with or superiority over others with whom we compare ourselves. There does not appear to be any other _grief_ in the natural passion, but only _that want_ which is implied in desire. However, this may be so strong as to be the occasion of great _grief_. To desire the attainment of this equality or superiority by the _particular means_ of others being brought down to our own level, or below it, is, I think, the distinct notion of envy. From whence it is easy to see that the real end, which the natural passion emulation, and which the unlawful one envy aims at, is exactly the same; namely, that equality or superiority: and consequently, that to do mischief is not the end of envy, but merely the means it makes use of to attain its end. As to resentment, see the Eighth Sermon. {6} Ephes. ii. 3. {7} Every man in his physical nature is one individual single agent. He has likewise properties and principles, each of which may be considered separately, and without regard to the respects which they have to each other. Neither of these is the nature we are taking a view of. But it is the inward frame of man considered as a _system_ or _constitution_: whose several parts are united, not by a physical principle of individuation, but by the respects they have to each other; the chief of which is the subjection which the appetites, passions, and particular affections have to the one supreme principle of reflection or conscience. The system or constitution is formed by and consists in these respects and this subjection. Thus the body is a _system_ or _constitution_: so is a tree: so is every machine. Consider all the several parts of a tree without the natural reselects they have to each other, and you have not at all the idea of a tree; but add these respects, and this gives you the idea. This body may be impaired by sickness, a tree may decay, a machine be out of order, and yet the system and constitution of them not totally dissolved. There is plainly somewhat which answers to all this in the moral constitution of man. Whoever will consider his own nature will see that the several appetites, passions, and particular affections have different respects amongst themselves. They are restraints upon, and are in a proportion to, each other. This proportion is just and perfect, when all those under principles are perfectly coincident with conscience, so far as their nature permits, and in all cases under its absolute and entire direction. The least excess or defect, the least alteration of the due proportions amongst themselves, or of their coincidence with conscience, though not proceeding into action, is some degree of disorder in the moral constitution. But perfection, though plainly intelligible and unsupportable, was never attained by any man. If the higher principle of reflection maintains its place, and as much as it can corrects that disorder, and hinders it from breaking out into action, this is all that can be expected in such a creature as man. And though the appetites and passions have not their exact due proportion to each other, though they often strive for mastery with judgment or reflection, yet, since the superiority of this principle to all others is the chief respect which forms the constitution, so far as this superiority is maintained, the character, the man, is good, worthy, virtuous. {8} Chap. iii., ver. 6. {9} Job xiii. 5. {10} Eccles. x. 3. {11} Prov. x. 19. {12} Mark xii. 38, 40. {13} There being manifestly this appearance of men's substituting others for themselves, and being carried out and affected towards them as towards themselves; some persons, who have a system which excludes every affection of this sort, have taken a pleasant method to solve it; and tell you it is _not another_ you are at all concerned about, but your _self only_, when you feel the affection called compassion, _i.e._ Here is a plain matter of fact, which men cannot reconcile with the general account they think fit to give of things: they therefore, instead of that manifest fact, substitute _another_, which is reconcilable to their own scheme. For does not everybody by compassion mean an affection, the object of which is another in distress? instead of this, but designing to have it mistaken for this, they speak of an affection or passion, the object of which is ourselves, or danger to ourselves. Hobbes defines _pity_, _imagination_, _or fiction of future calamity to ourselves_, _proceeding from the sense_ (he means sight or knowledge) _of another man's calamity_. Thus fear and compassion would be the same idea, and a fearful and a compassionate man the same character, which every one immediately sees are totally different. Further, to those who give any scope to their affections, there is no perception or inward feeling more universal than this: that one who has been merciful and compassionate throughout the course of his behaviour should himself be treated with kindness, if he happens to fall into circumstances of distress. Is fear, then, or cowardice, so great a recommendation to the favour of the bulk of mankind? Or is it not plain that mere fearlessness (and therefore not the contrary) is one of the most popular qualifications? This shows that mankind are not affected towards compassion as fear, but as somewhat totally different. Nothing would more expose such accounts as these of the affections which are favourable and friendly to our fellow-creatures than to substitute the definitions, which this author, and others who follow his steps, give of such affections, instead of the words by which they are commonly expressed. Hobbes, after having laid down that pity or compassion is only fear for ourselves, goes on to explain the reason why we pity our friends in distress more than others. Now substitute the word _definition_ instead of the word _pity_ in this place, and the inquiry will be, why we fear our friends, &c., which words (since he really does not mean why we are afraid of them) make no question or sentence at all. So that common language, the words _to compassionate_, _to pity_, cannot be accommodated to his account of compassion. The very joining of the words to _pity our friends_ is a direct contradiction to his definition of pity: because those words, so joined, necessarily express that our friends are the objects of the passion; whereas his definition of it asserts that ourselves (or danger to ourselves) are the only objects of it. He might indeed have avoided this absurdity, by plainly saying what he is going to account for; namely, why the sight of the innocent, or of our friends in distress, raises greater fear for ourselves than the sight of other persons in distress. But had he put the thing thus plainly, the fact itself would have been doubted; that _the sight of our friends in distress raises in us greater fear for ourselves than the sight of others in distress_. And in the next place it would immediately have occurred to every one that the fact now mentioned, which at least is doubtful whether, true or false, was not the same with this fact, which nobody ever doubted, that _the sight of our friends in distress raises in us greater compassion than the sight of others in distress_: every one, I say, would have seen that these are not the same, but _two different_ inquiries; and, consequently, that fear and compassion are not the same. Suppose a person to be in real danger, and by some means or other to have forgot it; any trifling accident, any sound might alarm him, recall the danger to his remembrance, and renew his fear; but it is almost too grossly ridiculous (though it is to show an absurdity) to speak of that sound or accident as an object of compassion; and yet, according to Mr. Hobbes, our greatest friend in distress is no more to us, no more the object of compassion, or of any affection in our heart: neither the one nor the other raises any emotion in one mind, but only the thoughts of our liableness to calamity, and the fear of it; and both equally do this. It is fit such sort of accounts of human nature should be shown to be what they really are, because there is raised upon them a general scheme, which undermines the whole foundation of common justice and honesty. See _Hobbes of Human Nature_, c. 9. section 10. There are often three distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon sight of persons in distress: real sorrow and concern for the misery of our fellow-creatures; some degree of satisfaction from a consciousness of our freedom from that misery; and as the mind passes on from one thing to another it is not unnatural from such an occasion to reflect upon our own liableness to the same or other calamities. The two last frequently accompany the first, but it is the first _only_ which is properly compassion, of which the distressed are the objects, and which directly carries us with calmness and thought to their assistance. Any one of these, from various and complicated reasons, may in particular cases prevail over the other two; and there are, I suppose, instances, where the bare _sight_ of distress, without our feeling any compassion for it, may be the occasion of either or both of the two latter perceptions. One might add that if there be really any such thing as the fiction or imagination of danger to ourselves from sight of the miseries of others, which Hobbes specks of, and which he has absurdly mistaken for the whole of compassion; if there be anything of this sort common to mankind, distinct from the reflection of reason, it would be a most remarkable instance of what was furthest from his thoughts--namely, of a mutual sympathy between each particular of the species, a fellow-feeling common to mankind. It would not indeed be an example of our substituting others for ourselves, but it would be an example of user substituting ourselves for others. And as it would not be an instance of benevolence, so neither would it be any instance of self-love: for this phantom of danger to ourselves, naturally rising to view upon sight of the distresses of others, would be no more an instance of love to ourselves than the pain of hunger is. {14} Ecclus. xxxii. 28. {15} Ecclus. xlii. 24. {16} Ver. 4, 5. {17} Ver. 6. {18} Micah vi. {19} Chap. xxii. 12. {20} Ver. 21. {21} Chap. iv. {22} Chap. xxv. {23} Chap. xxxi. {24} Chap. ii. {24a} In the Cassell edition the sermons jump from sermon VII to XI with no explanation as to where VIII, IX and X are. I've left the numbering as is in case there is a good reason for it.--DP. {25} P. 137. {26} Matt. v. 48. {27} 1 Cor. xiii. {28} For instance as we are not competent judges, what is upon the whole for the good of the world, there _may_ be other immediate ends appointed us to pursue, besides that one of doing good or producing happiness. Though the good of the Creation be the only end of the Author of it, yet he may have laid us under particular obligations, which we may discern and feel ourselves under, quite distinct from a perception, that the observance or violation of them it for the happiness or misery of our fellow-creatures. And this is in fart the ease, for there are certain dispositions of mind, and certain actions, which are in themselves approved or disapproved by mankind, abstracted from the consideration of their tendency to the happiness or misery of the world approved or disapproved by reflection, by that principle within, whirls is the guile of life, the judge of right and wrong. Numberless instances of this kind might be mentioned. There are pieces of treachery, which in themselves appear base and detestable to every one. There are actions, which perhaps can scarce have any other general name given them than indecencies, which yet are odious and shocking to human nature. There is such a thing as meanness, a little mind, which as it is quite distinct from incapacity, so it raises a dislike and disapprobation quite different from that contempt, which men are too apt to have, of mere folly. On the other hand, what we call greatness of mind is the object of another most of approbation, than superior understanding. Fidelity, honour, strict justice, are themselves approved in the highest degree, abstracted from the consideration of their tendency. Now, whether it be thought that each of these are connected with benevolence in our nature, amid so may he considered as the same thing with it, or whether some of them he thought an inferior kind of virtues and vices, somewhat like natural beauties and deformities, or lastly, plain exceptions to the general rule, thus such however is certain, that the things now instanced in, and numberless others, are approved or disapproved by mankind in general, in quite another view than as conducive to the happiness or misery of the world. {29} St. Austin observes, Amor ipse ordinate amandus est, quo bene amatur quod amandum sit, ut sit in nobis virtue qua vivitur bene, _i.e._ _The affection which we rightly have for what is lovely must ordinate justly_, _in due manner end proportion_, _become the object of a new affection_, _or be itself beloved_, _in order to our being endued with that virtue which is the principle of a good life_. Civ. Dei, 1. xv. c. 22. {30} Job xxii. {31} Job ix. 2. {32} Eccius. xliii. 50. 
27649	----	The Hale Memorial Sermon 1907 BY THE RIGHT REVEREND ROBERT STRANGE, D. D. [Illustration: Seal--Sigillum seminarii theologici occidentalis] Western Theological Seminary CHICAGO The Hale Memorial Sermon No. 2 CHURCH WORK Among the Negroes in the South BY THE RIGHT REVEREND ROBERT STRANGE, D. D. BISHOP OF EAST CAROLINA Preached on the Evening of the Fifth Sunday in Lent at Grace Episcopal Church CHICAGO WESTERN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 1907 TO THE GLORY OF GOD AND IN MEMORY OF ANNA McK. T. HALE A LOVER OF EVERY GOOD WORD AND WORK THE PREACHING AND PRINTING OF THIS SERMON WERE PROVIDED FOR BY HER HUSBAND C. R. H. EXTRACTS FROM THE WILL OF THE RT. REV. CHARLES REUBEN HALE, D. D., LL. D., BISHOP COADJUTOR OF SPRINGFIELD, _born 1837; consecrated July 26, 1892; died December 25, 1900_. [Illustration: Cross] In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. I, Charles Reuben Hale, Bishop of Cairo, Bishop Coadjutor of Springfield, of the City of Cairo, Illinois, do make, publish, and declare this, as and for my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all former wills by me made. First. First of all, I commit myself, soul and body, into the hands of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Saviour, in Whose Merits alone I trust, looking for the Resurrection of the Body and the Life of the World to come. * * * * * Fourteenth. All the rest and residue of my Estate, personal and real, not in this my Will otherwise specifically devised, wheresoever situate, and whether legal or equitable, I give, devise, and bequeath to "The Western Theological Seminary, Chicago, Illinois," above mentioned, but nevertheless _In Trust_, provided it shall accept the trust by an instrument in writing so stating, filed with this Will in the Court where probated, within six months after the probate of this Will--for the general purpose of promoting the Catholic Faith, in its purity and integrity, as taught in Holy Scripture, held by the Primitive Church, summed up in the Creeds and affirmed by the undisputed General Councils, and, in particular, to be used only and exclusively for the purposes following, to wit:-- (1) The establishment, endowment, printing, and due circulation of a yearly _Sermon_, to be delivered annually forever, in memory of my dear wife, Anna McK. T. Hale, to be known as "The Hale Memorial Sermon," and (2) The establishment, endowment, publication and due circulation of Courses of Lectures, to be delivered annually forever, to be called "The Hale Lectures." * * * * * The subject of this Sermon shall be some branch of Church Work, in any part of the world, which, in the judgment of the Trustees of "The Western Theological Seminary, Chicago, Illinois," deserves to be better known, in order that it may be more adequately appreciated. These sermons shall be preached at such time and place as the said Trustees of The Western Theological Seminary, Chicago, Illinois, may appoint, and shall be printed in a style similar to the Sermons of this kind already published under my direction, viz: "Confucianism in its relation to Christianity," and "The Religion of the Dakotas." One hundred copies of each of these Sermons are to be given, so soon as they come from the press, to the preacher thereof, and one copy of such Sermon is, so soon thereafter as may be, to be sent to each Bishop in the Anglican Communion, and to such other Bishops as may be in full communion with these Bishops, to the Patriarchs and other chief Hierarchs of the Orthodox Eastern Churches, and to the chief Public Libraries throughout the world. Should it be, at any time, deemed expedient to offer any of these Sermons for sale, the entire receipts, over and above the expenses incurred in such sale, shall be given to "The Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America," a Corporation existing under the laws of the State of New York, for the uses of said Society. * * * * * The preacher of the Hale Memorial Sermon shall always be a clergyman of the American Church, commonly called "The Protestant Episcopal Church," or of some Church in communion with the same, or of one of the Orthodox Eastern Churches. * * * * * The Western Theological Seminary has gladly accepted the Trusteeship as outlined in the above extracts from the will of the late Bishop Hale. It will be the aim of the Seminary, through the Hale Sermons, to make from time to time some valuable contributions to some of the Church problems of the day, without thereby committing itself to the utterances of its own selected Preachers. Church Work Among the Negroes in the South CHURCH WORK AMONG THE NEGROES IN THE SOUTH I take as the South the eleven old slave states, which stood at one time in armed array against the rest of the United States, which are to-day as loyal and true to the General Government as any other states in this great and favored land of ours. They are Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Louisiana, Arkansas and Texas. These states make up one-fourth of the area of the United States, and their population is about one-fourth of that of the whole country. These figures and the others that I shall give cannot be exact, as we are so far away from the last census; but they are close estimates, and present, I think, a fair idea of the facts as they are to-day. In this large section of our country, with only 1.6 per cent. foreign born, the negroes make up 40 per cent. of the population. They are found chiefly in the cities and towns, and in the country along the coastal plains and on the first rise of the hills; we see very few in the mountain districts. What of the religious affiliations of the negroes? Nearly every negro is a nominal church member. The first reason for this is that his childish emotional nature is essentially religious, fearing or adoring the unseen powers. The second reason is that the Church is not only the religious but the social center for the negro, largely taking the place with him, which the secret and benevolent societies hold among the white people. Very few are Roman Catholics. The Roman Church has not made the progress among the negroes, which one would expect of the Church which has such a hold on the common peoples of Southern Europe. Only about four thousand are members of the Presbyterian Church; and to the Episcopal Church belong only 9,000 communicants. The rest are divided between the Baptists and Methodists. The low educational standard of the ministry for these Churches, their easy methods of organization and their insistence on feeling rather than on conduct have appealed strongly to the great mass of the negroes. Looking more closely at those in our Church, we find that out of nine million negroes in the South, we have about nine thousand communicants: one in a thousand. They vary from one in 381 in Virginia to one in 7961 in Mississippi. In my own State of North Carolina we have one negro communicant to every 480 of the negro population. What was the religious condition and teaching of the negroes before the Civil War? In 1816 in Philadelphia the African-Methodist Episcopal Church separated from the whites; and they have formed the strongest negro organization in the country. A large number of the negro Methodists remained, however, with the whites; and for some of these, churches were built, and a white preacher regularly set aside by the white Conference to minister to their black people. Others came to the same church with the whites, occupying the gallery or pews allotted to them in the rear of the Church. The colored Baptists and Presbyterians worshipped in the same way with the whites, and were ministered to by white preachers. In the Church we had no colored ministers; but the negroes worshipped with us in separate parts of the same Church building, and the white clergyman felt responsible for the black portion of his flock. In many Churches--I have one now particularly in mind--the white people sat in the front pews in the morning and the negroes in the back. In the afternoon, the same clergyman, in the same Church, preached to the negroes, sitting in front, and the white people, some of whom generally came, sitting behind. At the Holy Communion and at Confirmation whites and blacks came together, the blacks generally last. In South Carolina, when the Civil War began, there were very nearly as many black communicants in the Church as white. On every plantation and in nearly every Christian home throughout the South, without regard to religious affiliations, the negroes were taught in Sunday-schools by the mistress and her older daughters. Many of the large planters employed a regular chaplain for their negroes. I knew intimately the Rev. George Patterson, who began his ministry in East Carolina as chaplain to the negroes belonging to Mr. Josiah Collins. Just a word or two here about slavery, this suggestion coming to me from a Northern clergyman, who has for the past twenty years been doing noble work for the negroes in North Carolina. Slavery with all its horrors was over-ruled by God to be a great missionary institution. The savage black men were brought into the closest contact with the highest Anglo-Saxon civilization, the best negroes coming into personal touch with the best whites as servant and master. They were taught Christ by as fair representatives of his religion as the world has ever seen. The negroes were brought under law, and were forced to see the blessings of order and justice. As Booker Washington also admits, they were taught the value of work and its necessity. So, through slavery the negro in the United States to-day stands far above the wild and ignorant African who now inhabits the land from which he came. When you read Uncle Tom's Cabin, remember that Uncle Tom was a product of slavery and that the fairer side as presented by Mrs. Stowe was the most common in the whole South. Do not misunderstand me; together with a large majority of the thinking white men of the South, I rejoice that slavery is a thing of the past; I would not have it again if I could; I see its frightful evils; but we must all acknowledge that slavery has been a potent factor for good in the evolution of the negro in the United States. The great Civil War swept over the South; and the negro was made a free man. How did this change affect his religious position? The negroes as a rule left their old masters, to try their wings and see if they were really free. One sad incident in my early childhood comes back to me now. I was awakened one night by the uncontrollable weeping of my mother. "Mother, Mother," I cried, "what is the matter!" "Hagar"--my dear black mammy--"is going to leave us." I broke out with her in still louder lamentations. Mammy came in; and then her tears fell with ours. "You aren't going to leave me, Mammy?" "Yes, chile, I'm bound to go." "Why?" "All the cullud people is gwine down de river; and I must go too." And so for pride and fear of race, though her heart was breaking for us, she went away. I am happy to tell you that in a few months she came back, and was, just as before, my loving and beloved mammy, until the day of her death. The negroes left the white churches in like manner, and most of them stayed away in their own negro churches. The Baptists and Methodists separated entirely from the whites, becoming completely independent. After working together for many years the colored Presbyterians have become an independent organization. We in the Church tried to keep them with us just as before in the days of slavery; but we only partially succeeded. We began to train colored men for the ministry; we built Churches for them; we admitted them to our Diocesan Councils on equal terms; and we strove manfully to cling to the Catholic idea: one Church for all peoples and races. What are we doing now? First here is our educational work. In some parishes of every diocese we have parochial schools, teaching the children mentally and morally, hoping to get hold of the next generation, feeling the importance of a moral and religious training which cannot be given by the public schools. We have now in all our dioceses nearly a hundred of these parochial schools. In North Carolina and Virginia we have a group of institutions well worth mentioning, with which I am in close personal touch, on which we are building great hope for the future: St. Augustine Normal and Industrial School, Raleigh, N. C.; St. Paul's Normal and Industrial School, Lawrenceville, Va., and the Bishop Payne Divinity School, Petersburg, Va. In these schools we are educating for our part of the South workmen, teachers, business and professional men, and clergymen. We are combining in them education for the hand, for the head, for the heart, and for the spirit of man; we are giving these negroes the education that trains for life in all its phases, fitting them to be workers and leaders among their people. You have heard of the "Church Institute for the Negro." I beg you will give it your hearty sympathy and cordial co-operation. The good purpose of the Institute is to raise money first for these three Institutions, to lift them forward and to so increase the area of their influence that they will do in the Church a work similar to that done outside the Church by Hampton and Tuskegee. After placing these three schools on a firm financial basis, the Institute hopes to continue its good work, helping in the whole South to increase the number and to add to the efficiency of all of our parochial schools. I should not forget at this point of my address to give brief but hearty mention of the blessed Christlike work for the negroes, which is being done by Mrs. Buford's Hospital and Home in Brunswick County, Va., St. Peter's Hospital, Charlotte, N. C., and St. Agnes Hospital and Training School, for Nurses, a department of St. Augustine School, Raleigh, N. C. What are we doing to evangelize the negroes and build them up into Christian men and women? I will tell you a little of the work which I know myself, in my own State of North Carolina, in our two dioceses and our one missionary jurisdiction. Bishop Atkinson--our great Church Father during and after the Civil War--felt his responsibility for the souls of the black folk; and he and his successors have been in more or less degree pressing the work of the Church among the negroes. We have now in the State two arch-deacons, thirteen clergymen, 1,400 communicants and 35 parishes and missions. Each arch-deacon goes all about his own diocese, visiting the colored parishes and missions, consulting with the clergy, and opening out new fields. The clergy are doing just the same kind of work among their people that the white clergy are doing in their white parishes and missions, with the exception that the colored clergy are giving more of their time to educational work. I have about the same size classes for Confirmation among the negroes that I have among the whites in the Churches of the same numerical strength. I have been Bishop of East Carolina about two and a half years; and I have confirmed 106 negroes and 644 white people, being an increase of 25 per cent. for the negroes and 18 per cent. for the whites. I am really proud of my staff of negro clergy; they are men of high moral character and are doing good and effective service. Work like this I have described in North Carolina is going on in every one of our States, larger or smaller as the Church of the white people has been larger or smaller in strength and numbers, and as the Bishop has been more or less interested in this special work. In this purely missionary field many of us are trying to develop and utilize Catechists, men of age and character without the necessary literary qualifications for the ministry, who can go forth to teach and preach to their people the simple facts of the Gospel, bringing the power of Christ to bear on their daily moral life. Two special ways in which the Church is influencing the negro race I take pleasure in mentioning. Arch-deacon Russell is holding every summer on his school grounds at Lawrenceville a "Farmers' Conference." The negroes come from all over the county and spend the day together, asking and answering publicly questions about their progress or their failure, their customs, good or bad, praising or criticising one another, and listening to selected speakers, urging them on to the best lines of development for their race. I attended this conference last summer; and I was much impressed and greatly encouraged for the true progress of the negro. Another far different kind of influence is going out from the Church in Arkansas. Bishop Brown and his Council have made an entire separation between the whites and blacks in his diocese. He has appointed a negro arch-deacon for the negro race, and has given him large power and wide discretion. Arch-deacon McGuire is appealing to the negroes both within and without the Church, attending all large negro gatherings, speaking to them about the Church, her customs and claims. He is getting a large and sympathetic hearing; and he and Bishop Brown have great hope of rapid progress for this negro branch of the Church in Arkansas. Now, my friends, while the work is slowly going forward, as I have shown, while the average per cent. of growth among the negroes is nearly that of the progress among the whites; yet conditions are not satisfactory. While we can excuse ourselves, if we will, by pointing to the changed conditions after the war; by telling of the days of re-construction, which did more to separate and to make antagonistic the two races than many wars; by speaking of the high moral standard, which we demand and which the negroes in the mass will not accept; by deprecating the use of our beautiful liturgy which they cannot understand; yet we ought to have done, we ought to be doing far more with the negroes than we have done or are doing. We are barely touching the edge of the negro people; just think of it: one in one thousand, while we have among the whites one in about 121 of the population. In Virginia, where there is one in 50 of the white population who are members of the Episcopal Church, there is only one in 381 of the negroes; in North Carolina one in 115 whites and one in 480 blacks. In South Carolina, where in 1860 the whites and blacks were about equal, the whites have gone forward to seven thousand, and the negroes have fallen back to one thousand. Yet that is not the most unsatisfactory part of the matter. We are not strongly attracting to the Church the element we ought to have; the exceptional negroes, the educated and enterprising, the leaders of their race. Why? Let the facts answer. I have already said that the Church strove to continue after the war the same method of dealing with the negroes as before. She tried to keep the races together; but she has found it impractical, that impracticability growing more and more clear as the years have run on. The races have been steadily drifting apart in all social or semi-social life; the better class of each race is coming less and less into contact with each other; and race prejudice is increasing and deepening in the great masses of both the white and the black people. Soon after the war, wherever the negroes were in great numbers, we found it necessary to build separate churches for them. We admitted their clergymen and laymen to the Councils of the diocese on equal terms with the whites; but that custom has been steadily changing. Some twenty years ago South Carolina and Virginia, dreading too great an increase of negro clergy and laity, led the way to new conditions. South Carolina excluded them entirely from the Diocesan Council, without any further provision for them. Virginia did not disturb those already having seats in the Council, but simply refused to let any more come in on the same terms. She erected a separate Convocation for the negroes, and now allows a certain number to have seats as representatives from the Convocation to the Council. Two years ago Arkansas put the negroes aside into a separate Convocation with no representation in the Council of the Diocese. Georgia last year formed a separate Convocation; but has allowed them by the act of separation to come into the Council to vote for the Standing Committee, the deputies to the General Convention and for the Bishop, whenever one is to be elected: giving them, you see, legal representation in important affairs. The Convention of the Diocese of North Carolina is now discussing the matter of separation, and is only delaying its own action, while waiting to see what shall be done next fall by the General Convention. In our own Diocese of East Carolina, the negroes are formally and legally on the same basis as the whites; but is that satisfactory? Not at all. The negro laity rarely go to the Council. The negro clergy go; but they take a back seat; they have nothing to do or say; they are not expected to show their interest or their will, except by voting. Instead of its doing them good to come to the Council, it really does them harm. They are depressed, they feel the difference between themselves and the white men; they have little or no opportunity to take responsibility and to develop Christian manhood. Perceiving this state of things, the clear headed leader of the forces for separation in the Diocese of North Carolina tells me that he is urging this separation for the real good of the negro as well as for the growth and influence of the Church among the white people of the State. The fact is, say what we will about it--it would carry me too far afield to explain it to-night--that the negro cannot work together on equality with the white man; he either assumes an apparent insolence and stubbornness, which the whites will not allow; or he puts on a civility and submission, which strips him of his manhood. So, we are placed in this condition: when we keep the negro close to us on formal equality, he has no real opportunity to grow and develop in the true characteristics of manhood; when we put him off in an inferior diocesan Convocation, he feels that he is not treated as a man; he is forced steadily to realize his inferiority to the white man, that inferiority declared and impressed upon him by the Church of God. This, it seems to me, is the chief reason why we are not now growing as we ought to among the leading influential negroes of the South; and the reason why there is much restlessness and want of satisfaction among the negroes who are already in the Church. What ought we to do to meet these conditions? Let us turn aside for a moment to consider the general conditions of the negroes and their relation to the white people. We have to-day about the same relative proportion of blacks to whites in the whole country as we had in 1860--about 12 per cent.--; and we have nearly the same in the South, about 40 per cent. What is to become of the negro for the next fifty years? No man would dare suggest an answer looking farther ahead than that: God only knows. Some say he will amalgamate with the whites. Many thought so immediately after the war who do not think or say so now. No; after forty years the separation between the races is clearer, wider and more distinct than ever before. The thoughtful black men do not desire amalgamation; and the white men will not have it. Some say the negro will be colonized. I think that there is less reason in this answer even than in the former. The negroes do not wish to go; and we cannot force them. Think of the difficulty of deporting forcibly nine million people! No; as Dr. Booker T. Washington says, "This problem is not to be solved by deportation or by amalgamation." The negroes are here to stay with us, and the bulk of them will stay in the South. For years there has been a steady movement of the negroes from the country to the towns and cities of the South, and from the Southern cities to the Northern. I think they are coming and will continue to come North in sufficient numbers for our brethren of the North to learn to know them, to sympathize with us in our problem and to have something of a problem themselves, and to feel that we must all work together towards its true and final solution. The negroes are dividing into two distinct classes more decidedly, it seems to me, than any other nationality in our country; and I hope they will continue to keep and increase this distinction. A minority are improving, are taking advantage of education, are advancing in morality and industry, are acquiring property and becoming worthy citizens. These few are setting a standard, and are giving us hope of what the negro can and may become. The majority are not improving, but rather retrogressing. They are looking on liberty as license; they are thinking that a little education will give them the privilege of living without manual labor; they are making higher wages the way to less work rather than the way to a higher standard of life; they are shiftless, immoral, and criminal. Now, as I study this race so dividing in the great laboratory of Nature, under the law of God which works on so justly, ofttimes apparently so cruelly, always for the general good of man, I look forward with the hope that this smaller, higher class will increase, and that the larger, lower class will decrease. The better class will increase as all good things do and will increase in the providence of God and with the help and sympathy of true good men. The larger, meaner class of negroes will steadily diminish in two directions; the first by movement of their best into the higher class, swelling that slowly into the majority; the second, by the stern sloughing off of their worst by the diseases which spring from idleness, self-indulgence, filth, and immorality. What we white men of the North and South ought to do to encourage and help this better class of negroes is, in brief phrases, this: First, to keep our faces as flint against all social intermingling that looks toward amalgamation. Then, across this chasm, which both races frankly accept, to join hands with those trying to lift and better themselves, cheering, encouraging, and helping them. We must give them full protection in their life, liberty and pursuit of happiness; we must give them even handed justice in law and in politics; we must give them equality of opportunity in earning their bread, in making their homes, in educating their children; we must give them every chance and all cheer and sympathy in seeking the fulfillment of the aspirations of the human heart among their own people. And, my friends, I want to tell you here in Chicago to-night that we men of the South are largely doing all of these things now, and we are going to do them more and more completely. We are coming to see more and more clearly that it will not do to have forty per cent. of the people of our Southern land sullen and suspicious, discontented and hopeless; but that we can only go forward at our best pace towards a happy and noble civilization, with both races cheerful and hopeful, sympathizing with each other in their peculiar perplexities, trusting their brother man on earth and their Father God in Heaven. Keeping clearly in mind these conditions, what ought we Christians in the Church of God to do to help and strengthen this smaller, higher class and to persuade many of the larger, lower class to join this higher? In the first place, we must frankly acknowledge the hard _facts_ of the case, and, as far as possible, put to one side _theories_. We are confronted by a condition, as far as I read and study, absolutely new in the history of mankind, where we have no exact precedent to guide us. The underlying practical fact is this: there must be _separation_ not _from_ but _in_ the Church between the two races, for the growth of the Church among white men and black men, and for the development of Christian manhood among the black men. Having settled and agreed on that fact, how are we to effect that separation so as to do justice to the negro? How shall we keep him still in the One Holy Catholic Church in the United States of America and bestow on him her priceless blessings; how shall we keep him close enough to receive the sympathy, the support and the guidance of the white race; and yet put him far enough apart to grow and to strengthen, to meet responsibility and to make character, to develop a manly independence and to cultivate a brave and sober initiative? We have long given up the point of contact in the one parish Church, and have made the separation there; we are now giving up the point of contact in the Diocesan Council, and are making the separation there. What more shall we do? The true answer to my mind is: make the point of contact the General Convention, and make the separation, not by superior and inferior Councils in the same Diocese under the one Bishop; but by the erection of Missionary Jurisdictions, made up out of the colored people in different Dioceses under their own Bishop, on equality with any other Missionary Jurisdiction in the Church. We must have Missionary Jurisdictions in the South--one, or at most, two to begin with--composed of the negroes of two or more contiguous Dioceses, which shall be a part of the General Church, independent of the Bishops and Councils of those Dioceses, bearing the same relation to the General Convention that the white Missionary Jurisdictions do. That is to say, they shall have their representatives to the House of Clerical and Lay Delegates and their Bishops in the House of Bishops. The negro clergy and laity would thus meet together in their Missionary Convocation in numbers great enough to hearten one another and to stir enthusiasm; they would become responsible for their own success or failure; they would discuss, resolve and do their own committee work; they would have large missionary gatherings, which would make a deep impression on the negroes living in the city where the Convocation meets. Of what race should be the Bishop of this negro Missionary Jurisdiction? There are two answers to this question. One answer comes from those in the Church who still cling to the theory that there must be no race division whatever in the Church, that there must be under all conditions conceivable or inconceivable one Bishop in the same territory to all kinds, classes and races of people. "No," say they, "no negro Bishop. Whatever be your divisions in Councils or Convocations or Conventions, let one white Bishop be the bond of unity." The same answer comes as a practical matter from men who differ widely from the above theory. It comes from those who look too much, it seems to me, at the mass of the negroes, the lower majority of whom I have spoken; it comes from those who are hopeless of doing much for or with the negroes, who regard them as children, careless and unreliable, with different aspirations from those that actuate the white man. They say, "we must have a white man; no negro is fit to be a Bishop." The other answer comes from the men who think that we are confronted by facts, not theories, and that theories must be given up in the face of opposing facts; who think that the Church in her wisdom must rise up to meet this opportunity and responsibility, must adapt and adjust her system to the facts; who say that if a negro Bishop is acknowledged to be the best means to Christianize and save the negroes, then we must have a negro Bishop. This answer, again, comes from those who are looking more closely at the few, better, advancing negroes, thinking of them as men, with manly hopes and powers and aspirations, believing that races must be lifted by their own race leaders, that they can only truly understand and follow their own heroes. We say, "Remember Frederick Douglass, look at Booker Washington, know that wonderful Presbyterian Missionary, William H. Shepherd, consider the African Methodist Bishops, strong men, leaders of their fellows, against whom no murmur of scandal is raised. Surely among our own men in the Church, or our system is woefully at fault, we can find one or two honest, true, able, pure men, fit to be Bishops to their own race." Such a man would be a Bishop indeed to his race, such a Bishop as no white man can possibly be. He will enter, as only a negro can, into their perplexities, their hopes and their joys, sharing really in their social life, of which their religious life forms so great a part. He and his people will be a real part of the Holy Catholic Church, all worshipping according to her incomparable liturgy, all living under the same Canon law. He and his Deputies will come into close contact with their white brethren in the General Convention, and will gain much from such association and consultation. He will meet with the white Bishops, from whom his Jurisdiction is taken, in brotherly conference as his Council of Advice. From such friendly contact and advice from the highest and most sympathetic white men, he will go forth among his own people as their Apostle, their true Bishop and Father in God. In this double relation, in this position of high responsibility, he will stand forth as a true mediator between the races, pleading with both for peace, harmony, justice. This action of the Church, this frank and fair position given to the negro will so appeal to the better class of the leading negroes, will so cheer and encourage them in their true progress, that they will come, I believe, steadily and largely into the Church. From this line of thought, which grows clearer and clearer to me the more I read and think and see, I look forward with hope to a wise and fair adjustment of the relation between the races of this land, and to a happy future for a part of the negro race--how large a part God only knows. Towards this adjustment this Church of ours can make a rich contribution; and I believe she has, under God, a great part to play in enlarging the choice remnant and in bringing it to its true salvation. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | Transcriber's Note: | | | | Page 13: Changed are'nt to aren't (You aren't going) | | | | Page 15: Changed ouside to outside (to that done outside) | | | | Page 17: Moved period inside end-quotes for consistency with text | | ("Farmers' Conference.") | | | | Page 21: Changed "the the" to "to the" (rarely go to the Council) | | | | Page 27: Changed conposed to composed (composed of the negroes) | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ 
36332	----	AN ADDRESS, DELIVERED AT THE INTERMENT OF MRS. HARRIET STORRS, CONSORT OF REV. RICHARD S. STORRS, BRAINTREE, MASS. JULY 11, 1834. BY REV. JOHN CODMAN, D. D. Printed for private distribution. BOSTON: MUNROE AND FRANCIS. 1834. ADDRESS. There are some events, in the providence of God, so completely overwhelming as to render it extremely difficult, almost impossible, to give utterance to the full feelings of the soul through the medium of words. Language refuses its aid to relieve the burdened heart; and the oppressed spirit finds itself more inclined to the deep silence of grief, than to the expression of its sorrows by the human voice. When the heart-rending intelligence reached us of the event that has filled our souls with grief and dismay, we felt that no language could relieve our distress or mitigate our sorrow. We were dumb: we opened not our mouth. Our hearts bled--and they bled most freely in silence. But the solemnities of the occasion await us, and the usages of society demand, that we should attempt to give utterance, in the presence of our fellow creatures, to those feelings, which we can pour out before our compassionate God and Saviour in sighs and tears, without the intervention of set forms of speech. But where shall we find words to express the depth of our affliction? Where shall we find language to depict the character of the dear departed--or to administer comfort and support to the beloved survivors? Mysterious Heaven! how unsearchable are thy judgments, and thy ways past finding out! We bow before that holy and righteous Being, whose inspiration gave us _understanding_, and who has the undoubted right to resume the gift which he bestowed. We know that all his ways are just and equal, and that he will not hold us accountable for any act, committed in the absence of that mental and moral power by which we are enabled to distinguish between right and wrong. On the painful and distressing circumstances, by which our ever lamented and beloved friend is numbered among the silent dead, we will dwell no longer than to express an entire and unwavering conviction, that her character and present condition cannot in the least degree be affected by the manner of her removal from this sublunary state. We have not the shadow of a doubt, that the spiritual intelligence, which once beamed upon us with such mild and gentle lustre, and which was, for a short season, shrouded in darkness, is now rekindled by the same gracious hand that so mysteriously overshadowed it, to burn, with increasing and never-ending brightness, with seraphs that surround the throne of God. It is utterly impossible for the speaker to do justice to the character of our much loved friend, though it has been his privilege to have known her worth for nearly thirty years. The circle of christians which, at the time of his first acquaintance with her, then resided in our metropolis, many of whom are now in heaven, were distinguished for deep and ardent piety. Surrounded as they were by fashionable and increasing errors, they maintained their integrity and held fast their attachment to the doctrines of grace. The precious names of Mrs. Waters, and Mrs. Mason, and other aged saints, are embalmed in the memory of many a child of God. With these venerable pilgrims was associated a young disciple, who, with all the loveliness of youthful attractions, separated herself from the world, and consecrated herself to the service of her God and Saviour. From the prayers and conversation of these aged saints, through the blessing of God, she seemed to receive a peculiar unction of spirit, which was strikingly characteristic of her future course. In all plans of usefulness, which, though small and few when compared with those which distinguish this stirring age, no one took a more decided and active part. Her peculiarly affectionate manner ingratiated her with many, who were won by her mild and lovely spirit to congeniality of sentiment and effort. Her usefulness at that period, in the sphere in which she moved, was by no means inconsiderable; but the great Head of the church had still more important and interesting duties for her to perform. There are few situations in life that present more promising fields of usefulness to a pious, devoted female, than that of the wife of a minister of a united parish. Even the pastor himself, with his additional opportunities of affording instruction from the sacred desk, can scarcely exert a greater or a happier influence upon the minds and hearts of his congregation, than is often produced by the more humble, but not less important labours of his devoted companion. Her influence is not unfrequently greater than his, especially upon her own sex, and upon the tender, opening minds of the lambs of the flock. In the promotion of benevolent enterprize, by female associations, and in maternal counsels and prayers for the children of the church, she finds her appropriate and successful sphere, though upon the whole congregation, in their varied seasons of prosperity and adversity, her silent but benign influence is felt like the dew of Hermon, like the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion. From the more diversified and exciting scenes of usefulness in a city our departed friend was called to the more arduous and self-denying labours that devolve upon the conscientious wife of the pastor of a country parish. With what untiring zeal, with what scrupulous fidelity, she discharged these duties, I need only appeal to this crowded, this weeping, this afflicted assembly! From lisping infancy to hoary age, the testimony is one and the same. The children of affliction remember with affectionate gratitude her tender sympathy and her active benevolence. With the spirit of her divine Master, it may be truly said, that "in all their afflictions she was afflicted." Mothers, with their youthful charge, will never forget her wise counsels and her fervent prayers. The aged and infirm will pour out their benedictions upon her memory, and even babes and sucklings will lisp the praises of one, who watched with maternal solicitude over their cradles, and taught them to pronounce the name of Jesus. But, great and painful as this bereavement is to this afflicted people,--their griefs are almost forgotten, when we turn to the chief mourner in this scene of deep and heart-rending calamity. God help thee, my brother!--The God of Jacob, the Angel of the Covenant sustain thee! That your brethren, your people, the church of Christ, your numerous and attached friends, feel for you, you cannot doubt. Could they have averted the dreadful blow, how readily would they have hastened to your relief. But no human precaution could turn aside the fatal stroke. Dethroned reason will find opportunity to escape the most vigilant eye, and to elude the most watchful care. But dwell not, my brother, on circumstances which were beyond human control, and which affect not in the least degree the accountability of the dear departed. Bury in the grave, to which we are soon to assign these precious relics, as far as possible, the memory of the awful circumstances that attended their dissolution, and think only of the bright and happy spirit, of what she _was_, and what she _is_. O! she was every thing which a fond husband could desire in a companion of his life and labours; truly a help-mate for him in his temporal and spiritual concerns, in his family, and in his parish; in the social circle, and in the widely extended plans of usefulness in which the devoted servant of Christ is sometimes engaged beyond the limits of his congregation. My brother, in the repeated domestic bereavements which you have sustained, you have indeed been greatly afflicted, but you have also been greatly blessed. To the lot of but few does it fall to have been united to two such companions to cheer them in their pilgrimage through this vale of tears.[A] Their sainted spirits are waiting to receive you to those blessed mansions where reason holds her unclouded empire, where sighing and sorrow can never come, where death can never enter, and where sin can never defile. But not yet, my brother. The Lord hath need of you to work in his vineyard. From your repeated and heart-rending trials you will be better qualified, than ever for that important work which the Lord has assigned you in his American Israel. Go on then, my brother, and spend and be spent for Christ; and when you shall have performed your appointed service, you shall be welcomed by those whom you have loved on earth to the society of the redeemed--to the vision of Jesus--to the presence of God. And you, the dear and only child of the lamented dead! My heart bleeds for you. Your loss is indeed irreparable; but a mother's prayers are your legacy, and they are better than thousands of gold and silver. How much she loved you, and how closely you were entwined about the fibres of her heart, is abundantly evident from the affecting fact, that maternal solicitude, struggling with departing reason, directed her to the bed of her sleeping child to bid him a last and long farewell. Although the affecting circumstances of her removal can never be obliterated from your memory, think less of them than of the pious counsels, the holy example, the fervent prayers of your much-loved mother. Let these dwell on your mind, and they will be a restraint, a comfort, and a support to you under all the various trials of life to which you may be called. God bless you, my dear child! May your life be spared to your surviving parent, to console him in his deep affliction, and to be the prop of his declining years. The near relatives of our departed friend claim and receive our tender and affectionate sympathy. More especially do we feel for that afflicted sister, who, while she mourns with us on this affecting occasion, has the additional trial of watching around the sick bed of a beloved husband, deprived also of the exercise of his reason. May she be supported, in this season of her deep affliction, by the consolations of that holy religion, which are neither few nor small. And may all the relatives and the numerous christian friends of the deceased, whether present or absent, be graciously sustained under this painful bereavement, and bow, with humble submission, to the will of God. Friends of this Church and Congregation, with you too we heartily sympathize. You have been called in divine providence to repeated trials. We bear record to your disinterested regard to the cause of evangelical religion in our growing country, in consenting to the arrangement by which, for a definite period, you have been deprived of the immediate services of your beloved pastor. You have hitherto had the consolation, and it has been one of no small importance, of the presence and laborious efforts for your good of the partner of his life. With what exemplary patience, with what admirable self-denial, she sustained the peculiar trials of her situation, watching around the couch of a dying brother,[B] administering to the comfort of your late youthful pastor,[C] adopting into her family the orphan and the fatherless,[D] while her best earthly friend was laboriously employed in the service of the church, are well known to you all, and ought to be suitably appreciated. How far she fell a sacrifice to these painful deprivations--to this uncommon self-denial, is known only to Him, who is best acquainted with the intimate connection between the body and the mind.[E] That she died in your service--in the service of her family--and in the service of her God and Saviour, cannot admit of a doubt. You will delight, I know, to cherish her memory, to dwell upon her virtues, and to imitate her example. And now, my respected hearers and friends, it only remains, that we deposit these precious relics in yonder receptacle of the dead! there to rest, till the trump of the archangel awake the sleeping dust. Then, when the millions of the dead shall burst the cerements of the grave, we doubt not that the bright form of our departed friend, arrayed in immortal youth and vigour, will ascend to meet the Lord in the air, and enter with him into his glory. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote A: Mrs. Sarah Strong Storrs, the first wife of the bereaved husband, was the daughter of Rev. Nathan Woodhull, of Newtown, Long Island; married April 2, 1812--died April 6, 1818, aged 25 years. Eminently devoted to the service of her Lord in life, and sweetly cheered by his presence in death.] [Footnote B: Rev. Charles B. Storrs, President of the Western Reserve College, who left the world for heaven, after five weeks sickness at Braintree, Sept. 15, 1833.] [Footnote C: Rev. Edwards A. Park.] [Footnote D: The two little sons of Rev. C. B. Storrs.] [Footnote E: Her feelings on this subject are briefly noticed in her diary. After alluding to the circumstances of the case, and to what she believed to be the ruling motives of her husband in his request to his people for liberty to engage in the service of Home Missions, she says:-- "I think in no instance of my life have I felt more entirely willing to be in God's hands, and to have him dispose of us as he pleases. My trembling head at times anticipates evil to my dear husband--and my selfish heart, in anticipating the days and nights of loneliness that await me, is ready to say,--'How can I give thee up?' But I would not dare to cherish these feelings. God has an entire right to do with us as he pleases--and I would love him for doing just as he does. But O! strengthen us for our coming trials!"] NOTE. Mrs. Storrs had been for months declining in health--a fact more evident to herself than to others, because she still continued to discharge her usual domestic duties with alacrity and cheerfulness. But often, the conviction of her mind on this subject extorted from her the remark--"my constitution is breaking up--I cannot long live." Though the remark had never fallen from her lips in other years, it was too little heeded by her friends. It was on the evening of March 5th, 1834, that she was suddenly seized with a delirium that indicated inflammation on the brain. A physician was immediately called, and his skilful applications seemed to be blessed; the disease yielded; and after a few days, Reason resumed its seat; not however to hold it as formerly, but only to sway a broken sceptre, and fill the minds of friends with constant alarms. From this time till the first of June, the struggle between disease and nature was constant, and the issue doubtful; but on the whole, it was evident that the _mind_ was losing its power of judgment, and submitting to the control of a bewildered imagination. Her most judicious friends judged it expedient to change the scene, and try the effect of new objects and the revival of old friendships on her disordered system. She herself, having been often benefitted by the fatigues and various occurrences of journeying, consented to the measure with some cheerfulness. And on the 12th of June, we left our home, and leisurely pursued our way to the western part of the State, calling freely on those friends she had long known and loved, and sharing largely in their kind attentions. But nothing could restore to her mind its balance. Occasionally cheerful for an hour--but habitually brooding over some imagined impropriety of conduct, or deficiency of faith and love, she fancied herself a burden to the world, a curse to the church, and an alien from God. It was July 7th when we reached home. And by this time, the disease had advanced so far, as to leave but short intervals between the ravings of delirium. Her agonies, in her oft repeated language, were "inexpressible." Her bodings were fearful. And it was on the morning of the 10th instant, between the hours of five and six o'clock, that she eluded the long continued vigilance of her family, and secured time enough to execute a deed, which of all others she most abhorred when of sane mind--a deed, which she believed to be _right_, because dethroned reason left her a prey to the imagination that the honor of God, and the interests of Zion demanded it. Inscrutable mystery! A more devoted friend of Jesus--a more humble and self-denying disciple--a more laborious and consistent co-worker with the saints--a more prayerful and active promoter of the great Cause of Benevolence--is rarely to be met with in any age, or in any land. Aside of all the fond partialities of one who for fifteen years has known the blessedness of the most intimate companionship with so eminent a child of God, I deem it duty to say, in present circumstances, that her duties were always her pleasures--her religious privileges, her sweetest delights--her grand aim, in all things, the glory of God;--her trust was reposed in his promises alone--her hopes were founded on Christ--and her only desired reward was, the consciousness of honoring the religion she professed. She rests with prophets and apostles. So saith the Spirit, and her works do follow her. R. S. STORRS. Braintree, July 15, 1834. OBITUARY NOTICE. WRITTEN BY REV. B. B. EDWARDS, AND PUBLISHED IN THE BOSTON RECORDER. Died at Braintree, Mass. on Thursday morning, July 10, MRS. HARRIET STORRS, wife of the Rev. Richard S. Storrs, in the 48th year of her age. She was a daughter of the late Mr. Samuel Moore of Charlestown. Her mind was first deeply convinced of the importance of personal piety in listening to the sermons of the Rev. Dr. Griffin then minister of the Park street church. She became a member of the Old South church, when the Rev. Joshua Huntington was its pastor. The depth of the loss sustained by her friends and by the church of Christ, cannot easily be estimated. In her character was that rare union of lovely natural qualities with intelligent, elevated piety, which sweetens domestic life; throws such charms over the intercourse of friendship as all persons can feel but none describe; and which exhibits in a most striking manner what that state was from which man fell, and to which the grace of the Holy Spirit can restore him. The path of her life was covered over with evidences of her kindness. Every where she lived for the happiness of those around her. Her benign inquiries, her cheerful footsteps, her sweet smiles, the same in joy and grief, those mysterious lines on the countenance, which almost ally the sympathies of humanity to the purity of angels, seemed to say to all whom she met, that she was their servant for Jesus's sake. She was truly the light and joy of her domestic circle, shedding the calm and steady lustre of true piety; in her humility apparently unconscious of the blessings which her presence afforded; and always prompt to give all the glory of any goodness in herself and others, to her Lord and Redeemer. She discharged the interesting obligations, which devolve on the wife of a clergyman, with singular readiness, kind feeling and success. She was aware of the responsible and delicate nature of many of her duties, and habitually looked for guidance to the great Head of the church. He was graciously pleased to hear her prayers, and to bless her labors. Her name will long be like precious balm in the hearts of multitudes, who testify, with entire unanimity, to the value of her labors of love. For several months past, "her soul has been full of trouble," for she thought that God had "laid her in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps, that his wrath was lying hard upon her," "that she was cast out of his sight, and should never again be permitted to look towards his holy temple." "She longed for death" and it has come; and we doubt not that her glorified spirit is in that land where the inhabitant shall not say "I am sick," where they "hunger no more, neither thirst any more; and where God shall wipe away tears from off all faces." The funeral of Mrs. Storrs was attended on Friday afternoon in the meetinghouse of the first church in Braintree. We never saw evidences of more unaffected and heartfelt grief, than were exhibited by the large congregation convened on this occasion. Prayers were offered by the Rev. Messrs. Gile of Milton, and Perkins of Weymouth, two appropriate funeral anthems were sung, and a very interesting and affecting address was pronounced by the Rev. Dr. Codman of Dorchester. * * * * * Transcriber's Notes Page 7: Changed hasiened to hastened (how readily would they have hasiened to your relief.) 
12746	----	BOHN'S STANDARD LIBRARY THE PROSE WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT, D.D. EDITED BY TEMPLE SCOTT WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION BY THE RT. HON. W.E.H. LECKY, M.P. VOL. IV [Illustration] LONDON GEORGE BELL AND SONS 1898 CHISWICK PRESS:--CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. SWIFT'S WRITINGS ON RELIGION AND THE CHURCH VOL. II [Illustration] CONTENTS. TRACTS ON THE SACRAMENTAL TEST: A Letter Concerning the Sacramental Test The Presbyterian's Plea of Merit Narrative of Attempts for the Repeal of the Sacramental Test Queries relating to the Sacramental Test Advantages proposed by Repealing the Sacramental Test Reasons for Repealing the Sacramental Test in Favour of the Catholics Some Few Thoughts concerning the Repeal of the Test Ten Reasons for Repealing the Test Act SERMONS: On Mutual Subjection On the Testimony of Conscience On the Trinity On Brotherly Love On the Difficulty of Knowing One's Self On False Witness On the Wisdom of this World On Doing Good On the Martyrdom of King Charles I On the Poor Man's Contentment On the Wretched Condition of Ireland On Sleeping in Church APPENDICES: I. Remarks on Dr. Gibbs's Paraphrase of the Psalms II. Proposal for Preventing the further Growth of Popery III. Swift and Serjeant Bettesworth IV. A True and Faithful Narrative of what passed in London INDEX TO THE WRITINGS ON RELIGION AND THE CHURCH NOTE. The portrait which forms the frontispiece to this volume is taken, by permission, from the painting in the possession of the Earl of Howth, K.P. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** A LETTER FROM A MEMBER OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS IN IRELAND TO A MEMBER OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS IN ENGLAND CONCERNING THE SACRAMENTAL TEST. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1708. NOTE. In the "foreword" to the reprint of this tract in the "Miscellanies" of 1711, Swift remarks: "I have been assured that the suspicion which the supposed author lay under for writing this letter absolutely ruined him with the late ministry." The "late ministry" was the Whig ministry of which Godolphin was the Premier. To this ministry the repeal of the Test Act was a matter of much concern. To test the effect of such a repeal it was determined to try it in Ireland first. There the Presbyterians had distinguished themselves by their loyalty to William and the Protestant succession. These, therefore, offered a good excuse for the introduction of such a measure, particularly when, in 1708, an invasion was rumoured, they were the first to send in loyal addresses to the Queen. Swift likened this method to "that of a discreet physician, who first gives a new medicine to a dog, before he prescribes it to a human creature." Further, the Speaker of the Irish House had come over to England to agitate for the repeal. On this matter Swift wrote to Archbishop King, under date April 15th (the letter was first published by Mr. John Forster in his "Life of Swift," p. 246), as follows: "Some days ago my Lord Somers entered with me into discourse about the Test clause, and desired my opinion upon it, which I gave him truly, though with all the gentleness I could; because, as I am inclined and obliged to value the friendship he professes for me, so he is a person whose favour I would engage in the affairs of the First Fruits.... If it became me to give ill names to ill things and persons, I should be at a loss to find bad enough for the villainy and baseness of a certain lawyer of Ireland [Speaker Brodrick, afterwards Lord Midleton], who is in a station the least of all others excusable for such proceedings, and yet has been going about most industriously to all his acquaintance of both houses towards the end of the session to show the necessity of taking off the Test clause in Ireland by an act here, wherein you may be sure he had his brother's assistance. If such a project should be resumed next session, and I in England, unless your grace send me your absolute commands to the contrary, which I should be sorry to receive, I could hardly forbear publishing some paper in opposition to it, or leaving one behind me, if there should be occasion." In August of the same year the agitation for the repeal was renewed, and in December Swift published his "Letter on the Sacramental Test," writing as if from Dublin and as a member of the Irish House of Commons. When he writes to King in the following month he makes a mild attempt to convince the Archbishop that the pamphlet was not of his authorship. "The author has gone out of his way to reflect on me as a person likely to write for repealing the test, which I am sure is very unfair treatment. This is all I am likely to get by the company I keep. I am used like a sober man with a drunken face, have the scandal of the vice without the satisfaction." But King was not deceived. In his reply to Swift he simply remarks: "You need not be concerned: I will engage you will lose nothing by that paper." Swift, however, lost more than the Archbishop thought; for "that paper" led to his severance from the Whigs, and, in after life, to much contumely cast on his character for being a political renegade. Because "he was not Whig enough;" because he would not forsake his Church for his party, critics and biographers have thought fit to make little of him, and to compare him to his discredit with contemporaries whose intellects he held in the palm of his hand, and to whom he might have stood as a moral exemplar. Swift refers to this tract in his "Memoirs relating to the change in the Queen's Ministry," as follows:--"It was everybody's opinion, that the Earl of Wharton would endeavour, when he went to Ireland, to take off the test, as a step to have it taken off here: upon which I drew up and printed a pamphlet, by way of a letter from a member of parliament here, shewing the danger to the Church by such an intent. Although I took all care to be private, yet the Lieutenant's chaplain, and some others guessed me to be the author, and told his Excellency their suspicions; whereupon I saw him no more until I went to Ireland." The tract is one of the most favourable specimens of Swift's controversial method and trenchant satire. The style is excellent--forcible and pithy; while the arguments are like most of Swift's arguments, aptly to the point with yet a potentiality of application which fits them for the most general statement of the principles under discussion. Scott considers the pamphlet "as having materially contributed to the loss of the bill for repeal of the Test Act during the Earl of Pembroke's vice-royalty." In the same year Swift wrote "A Letter to a Member of Parliament in Ireland on choosing a new Speaker there." This short tract bears also on the question of the Test; but it is not included in this volume, since it was intended as an electioneering pamphlet. I have been unable to obtain access to a copy of the first edition of the "Letter on the Sacramental Test." The text here given is that of the "Miscellanies" of 1711, collated with that given in the "Miscellanies," 1728, and with those printed by Faulkner, Hawkesworth, and Scott. [T.S.] A LETTER CONCERNING THE SACRAMENTAL TEST. _ADVERTISEMENT._[1] [Footnote 1: This "Advertisement" is taken from "Miscellanies in Prose and Verse," printed for John Morphew, 1711. On page 314 of that volume it forms a "foreword" to "A Letter concerning the Sacramental Test." It is omitted from the reprint in the "Miscellanies" of 1728. The page which Swift says he has taken leave to omit cannot be identified. Probably this was another of Swift's manoeuvres for concealing the identity of the author. The "Advertisement" of George Faulkner to his edition of Swift's Works (vol. iv., 1735) is as follows: "In the second volume of Doctor Swift's and Mr. Pope's 'Miscellanies,' I found the following treatise, which had been printed in London, with some other of the Dean's works, many years before, but at first came out by itself in the year 1708, as the date shews: And it was at a juncture when the Dissenters were endeavouring to repeal the Sacramental Test, as by common fame, and some pamphlets published to the same purpose, they seem to be now again attempting, with great hope of success. I have, therefore, taken the liberty to make an extract out of that discourse, omitting only some passages which relate to certain persons, and are of no consequence to the argument. But the author's weight of reasoning seems at present to have more weight than it had in those times, when the discourse first appeared. "The author, in this letter, personates a Member of Parliament here [Dublin], to a Member of Parliament in England. "The Speaker mentioned in this letter was Allen Broderick, afterwards Chancellor and Lord Middleton; and the prelate was Dr. Lyndsay, afterwards Lord Primate," [T.S.]] _The following letter is supposed by some judicious persons to be of the same author, and, if their conjectures be right, it will be of no disadvantage to him to have it revived, considering the time when it was writ, the persons then at the helm, and the designs in agitation, against which this paper so boldly appeared. I have been assured that the suspicion which the supposed author lay under for writing this letter, absolutely ruined him with the late ministry. I have taken leave to omit about a page which was purely personal, and of no use to the subject._ Dublin, Dec. 4, 1708. Sir, I received your letter, wherein you tell me of the strange representations made of us on your side of the water. The instance you are pleased to mention is that of the Presbyterian missionary, who, according to your phrase, hath been lately persecuted at Drogheda for his religion: But it is easy to observe, how mighty industrious some people have been for three or four years past, to hand about stories of the hardships, the merits, the number, and the power of the Presbyterians in Ireland, to raise formidable ideas of the dangers of Popery there, and to transmit all for England, improved by great additions, and with special care to have them inserted with comments in those infamous weekly papers that infest your coffee-houses. So, when the clause enacting a Sacramental Test was put in execution, it was given out in England, that half the justices of peace through this kingdom had laid down their commissions; whereas upon examination, the whole number was found to amount only to a dozen or thirteen, and those generally of the lowest rate in fortune and understanding, and some of them superannuated. So, when the Earl of Pembroke was in Ireland and the Parliament sitting, a formal story was very gravely carried to his Excellency by some zealous members, of a priest newly arrived from abroad to the north-west parts of Ireland, who had publicly preached to his people, to fall a-murdering the Protestants; which, though invented to serve an end they were then upon, and are still driving at, it was presently handed over, and printed with shrewd remarks by your worthy scribblers. In like manner, the account of that person who was lately expelled our university for reflecting on the memory of King William, what a dust it raised, and how foully it was related, is fresh enough in memory.[2] Neither would people be convinced till the university was at the pains of publishing a Latin paper to justify themselves. And, to mention no more, this story of the persecution at Drogheda, how it hath been spread and aggravated, what consequences have been drawn from it, and what reproaches fixed on those who have least deserved them, we are already informed. Now if the end of all this proceeding were a secret and mystery, I should not undertake to give it an interpretation, but sufficient care hath been taken to give it sufficient explanation.[3] First, by addresses artificially (if not illegally) procured, to shew the miserable state of the dissenters in Ireland by reason of the Sacramental Test, and to desire the Queen's intercession that it might be repealed. Then it is manifest that our Speaker, when he was last year in England, solicited, in person, several members of both Houses, to have it repealed by an act there, though it be a matter purely national, that cannot possibly interfere with the trade and interest of England, and though he himself appeared formerly the most zealous of all men against the injustice of binding a nation by laws to which they do not consent. And lastly, those weekly libellers, whenever they get a tale by the end relating to Ireland, without ever troubling their thoughts about the truth, always end it with an application against the Sacramental Test, and the absolute necessity there is of repealing it in both kingdoms. I know it may be reckoned a weakness to say anything of such trifles as are below a serious man's notice; much less would I disparage the understanding of any party to think they would choose the vilest and most ignorant among mankind, to employ them for assertors of a cause. I shall only say, that the scandalous liberty those wretches take would hardly be allowed, if it were not mingled with opinions that _some men_ would be glad to advance. Besides, how insipid soever those papers are, they seem to be levelled to the understandings of a great number; they are grown a necessary part in coffee-house furniture, and some time or other may happen to be read by customers of all ranks, for curiosity and amusement; because they lie always in the way. One of these authors (the fellow that was pilloried I have forgot his name)[4] is indeed so grave, sententious, dogmatical a rogue, that there is no enduring him; the _Observator_[5] is much the brisker of the two, and I think farther gone of late in lies and impudence, than his Presbyterian brother. The reason why I mention him, is to have an occasion of letting you know, that you have not dealt so gallantly with us, as we did with you in a parallel case: Last year, a paper was brought here from England, called, "A Dialogue between the Archbishop of Canterbury and Mr. Higgins," which we ordered to be burnt by the common hangman, as it well deserved; though we have no more to do with his Grace of Canterbury[6] than you have with the Archbishop of Dublin[7]; nor can you love and reverence your prelate more than we do ours, whom you tamely suffer to be abused openly, and by name, by that paltry rascal of an _Observator_; and lately upon an affair wherein he had no concern; I mean the business of the missionary at Drogheda, wherein our excellent primate was engaged, and did nothing but according to law and discretion. But because the Lord Archbishop of Dublin hath been upon several occasions of late years, misrepresented in England, I would willingly set you right in his character. For his great sufferings and eminent services he was by the late King promoted to the see of Derry. About the same time, he wrote a book to justify the Revolution, wherein was an account of King James's proceedings in Ireland, and the late Archbishop Tillotson recommended it to the King as the most serviceable treatise that could have been published at such a juncture.[8] And as his Grace set out upon those principles, he has proceeded so ever since, as a loyal subject to the Queen, entirely for the succession in the Protestant line, and for ever excluding the Pretender; and though a firm friend to the Church, yet with indulgence toward dissenters, as appears from his conduct at Derry, where he was settled for many years among the most virulent of the sect; yet upon his removal to Dublin, they parted from him with tears in their eyes, and universal acknowledgments of his wisdom and goodness. For the rest, it must be owned, he does not busy himself by entering deep into any party, but rather spends his time in acts of hospitality and charity, in building of churches, repairing his palace, in introducing and preferring the worthiest persons he can find, without other regards; in short, in the practice of all virtues that can become a public or private life. This and more, if possible, is due to so excellent a person, who may be justly reckoned among the greatest and most learned prelates of his age, however his character may be defiled by such mean and dirty hands as those of the _Observator_ or such as employ him.[9] [Footnote 2: The Provost and Fellows of Trinity College, Dublin, had lately expelled Edward Forbes for the cause mentioned in the text. [S.]] [Footnote 3: Faulkner prints: "But sufficient care hath been taken to explain it." [T.S.]] [Footnote 4: Daniel Defoe (1663?-1731), the son of a Cripplegate butcher. Entered business as a hosier, but failed. In 1695 he was appointed one of the commissioners for duties on glass. Wrote "The True Born Englishman" (1701); "The Shortest Way with the Dissenters," for which he was pilloried, fined, and imprisoned; and numerous other works, including "Robinson Crusoe;" "Life of Captain Singleton;" "History of Duncan Campbell;" "Life of Moll Flanders;" "Roxana;" "Life of Colonel Jack;" "Journal of the Plague;" "History of the Devil;" and "Religious Courtship." He edited a paper called "The Review," to which Swift here refers, and against which Charles Leslie wrote his "Rehearsals." [T.S.]] [Footnote 5: John Tutchin, a virulent writer of the reign of James II. For a political work in defence of Monmouth he was sentenced by Judge Jefferies to be whipped through several market towns. He wrote the "Observator" (begun April, 1702), and suffered at the hands of the Tories for his writings. He died in great poverty in 1708, at the age of forty-seven. He was also the author of a play entitled, "The Unfortunate Shepherd." Pope refers to these punishments meted out to Defoe and Tutchin, in the second book of the "Dunciad": "Earless on high, stood unabashed De Foe, And Tutchin flagrant from the scourge below." [T.S.]] [Footnote 6: Dr. Thomas Tenison (1636-1715), born at Cottenham, Cambridgeshire. For his attacks on the Roman Catholics he was in 1691 created Bishop of Lincoln. He was made Archbishop of Canterbury in 1694. He wrote a "Discourse of Idolatry," an answer to Hobbes, and published several sermons. [T.S.]] [Footnote 7: Dr. William King. See vol. iii., p. 241, note. [T.S.]] [Footnote 8: Dr. King was twice imprisoned in the castle of Dublin after the landing of King James in Ireland in 1699, and narrowly escaped assassination. The title of the work alluded to is: "The State of the Protestants in Ireland under the late King James's Government, in which their carriage towards him is justified, and the absolute necessity of their endeavouring to be freed from his Government, and of submitting to their present Majesties, is demonstrated." [S.]] [Footnote 9: The portion of this paragraph beginning with "The reason why I mention him," to the end, "such as employ him," is omitted by Faulkner. [T.S.]] I now come to answer the other part of your letter, and shall give you my opinion freely about repealing the Sacramental Test; only whereas you desire my thoughts as a friend, and not as I am a member of parliament, I must assure you they are exactly the same in both capacities. I must begin by telling you, we are generally surprised at your wonderful kindness to us on this occasion, it being so very industrious to teach us to see our interest in a point where we are so unable to see it ourselves. This hath given us some suspicion; and though in my own particular, I am hugely bent to believe, that whenever you concern yourselves in our affairs, it is certainly for our good, yet I have the misfortune to be something singular in this belief, and therefore I never attempt to justify it, but content myself to possess my own opinion in private, for fear of encountering men of more wit or words than I have to spare. We at this distance, who see nothing of the spring of actions, are forced by mere conjecture to assign two reasons for your desiring us to repeal the Sacramental Test: One is, because you are said to imagine it will be one step towards the like good work in England: The other more immediate, that it will open a way for rewarding several persons who have well deserved upon a great occasion, but who are now unqualified through that impediment. I do not frequently quote poets, especially English, but I remember there is in some of Mr. Cowley's love verses, a strain that I thought extraordinary at fifteen, and have often since imagined it to be spoken by Ireland: "Forbid it Heaven my life should be Weigh'd with her least conveniency:" In short, whatever advantage you propose to yourselves by repealing the Sacramental Test, speak it out plainly, 'tis the best argument you can use, for we value your interest much more than our own: If your little finger be sore, and you think a poultice made of our vitals will give it any ease, speak the word and it shall be done; the interest of our whole kingdom is at any time ready to strike to that of your poorest fishing towns; it is hard you will not accept our services, unless we believe at the same time that you are only consulting our profit, and giving us marks of your love. If there be a fire at some distance, and I immediately blow up my house before there be occasion, because you are a man of quality, and apprehend some danger to a corner of your stable; yet why should you require me to attend next morning at your levee with my humble thanks for the favour you have done me? If we might be allowed to judge for ourselves, we had abundance of benefit by the Sacramental Test, and foresee a number of mischiefs would be the consequence of repealing it, and we conceive the objections made against it by the dissenters are of no manner of force: They tell us of their merits in the late war in Ireland, and how cheerfully they engaged for the safety of the nation; that had they thought they had been fighting only other people's quarrels, perhaps it might have cooled their zeal; and that for the future, they shall sit down quietly and let us do our work ourselves; nay, that it is necessary they should do so, since they cannot take up arms under the penalty of high treason. Now supposing them to have done their duty, as I believe they did, and not to trouble them about the _fly on the wheel_; I thought Liberty, Property and Religion had been the three subjects of the quarrel, and have not all those been amply secured to them? Had they not at that time a mental reservation for power and employments? And must these two articles be added henceforward in our national quarrels? It is grown a mighty conceit among some men to melt down the phrase of a _Church Established by law_ into that of the _Religion of the Magistrate_; of which appellation it is easier to find the reason than the sense: If by the magistrate they mean the prince, the expression includes a falsehood; for when King James was prince[10], the Established Church was the same it is now. If by the same word they mean the Legislature, we desire no more. Be that as it will, we of this kingdom believe the Church of Ireland to be the National Church, and the only one established by law, and are willing by the same law to give a toleration to dissenters: But if once we repeal our Sacramental Test, and grant a toleration, or suspend the execution of the penal laws, I do not see how we can be said to have any Established Church remaining; or rather why there will not be as many established churches, as there are sects of dissenters. No, say they, yours will still be the National Church, because your bishops and clergy are maintained by the public; but, that, I suppose, will be of no long duration, and it would be very unjust it should, because, to speak in Tindal's phrase,[11] it is not reasonable that revenues should be annexed to one opinion more than another, when all are equally lawful, and 'tis the same author's maxim, that no freeborn subject ought to pay for maintaining speculations he does not believe. _But why should any man, upon account of opinions he cannot help, be deprived of the opportunity of serving his Queen and country?_ Their zeal is commendable, and when employments go a begging for want of hands, they shall be sure to have the refusal, only upon condition they will not pretend to them upon maxims which equally include atheists, Turks, Jews, infidels, and heretics, or which is still more dangerous, even Papists themselves; the former you allow, the other you deny, because these last own a foreign power, and therefore must be shut out. But there is no great weight in this; for their religion can suit with free states, with limited or absolute monarchies, as well as a better, and the Pope's power in France is but a shadow; so that upon this foot there need be no great danger to the constitution by admitting Papists to employments. I will help you to enough of them who shall be ready to allow the Pope as little power here as you please; and the bare opinion of his being vicar of Christ is but a speculative point, for which no man it seems ought to be deprived of the capacity of serving his country. [Footnote 10: The words from "the expression" to "was prince" are omitted by Faulkner in his edition. [T.S.]] [Footnote 11: See vol. iii, p. 9, note. [T.S.]] But, if you please, I will tell you the great objection we have against repealing this same Sacramental Test. It is, that we are verily persuaded the consequence will be an entire alteration of religion among us in a no great compass of years. And, pray observe, how we reason here in Ireland upon this matter. We observe the Scots in our northern parts, to be a brave, industrious people, extremely devoted to their religion, and full of an undisturbed affection towards each other. Numbers of that noble nation, invited by the fertilities of the soil, are glad to exchange their barren hills of Loquabar, by a voyage of three hours, for our fruitful vales of Down and Antrim, so productive of that grain, which, at little trouble and less expense finds diet and lodging for themselves and their cattle.[12] These people by their extreme parsimony, wonderful dexterity in dealing, and firm adherence to one another, soon grow into wealth from the smallest beginnings, never are rooted out where they once fix, and increase daily by new supplies; besides when they are the superior number in any tract of ground, they are not over patient of mixture; but such, whom they cannot assimilate, soon find it their interest to remove. I have done all in my power on some land of my own to preserve two or three English fellows in their neighbourhood, but found it impossible, though one of them thought he had sufficiently made his court by turning Presbyterian. Add to all this, that they bring along with them from Scotland a most formidable notion of our Church, which they look upon at least three degrees worse than Popery; and it is natural it should be so, since they come over full fraught with that spirit which taught them to abolish Episcopacy at home. [Footnote 12: From this passage, perhaps, Johnson derived the famous definition of oats, in his Dictionary, as the food of horses in England, and of men in Scotland. [S.]] Then we proceed farther, and observe, that the gentlemen of employments here, make a very considerable number in the House of Commons, and have no other merit but that of doing their duty in their several stations; therefore when the Test is repealed, it will be highly reasonable they should give place to those who have much greater services to plead. The commissions of the revenue are soon disposed of, and the collectors and other officers throughout this kingdom, are generally appointed by the commissioners, which give them a mighty influence in every country. As much may be said of the great officers in the law; and when this door is open to let dissenters into the commissions of the peace, to make them High Sheriffs, Mayors of Corporations, and officers of the army and militia; I do not see how it can be otherwise, considering their industry and our supineness, but that they may in a very few years grow to a majority in the House of Commons, and consequently make themselves the national religion, and have a fair pretence to demand the revenues of the Church for their teachers. I know it will be objected, that if all this should happen as I describe, yet the Presbyterian religion could never be made the national by act of Parliament, because our bishops are so great a number in the House of Lords, and without a majority there, the Church could not be abolished. But I have two very good expedients for that, which I shall leave you to guess, and I dare swear our Speaker here has often thought on, especially having endeavoured at one of them so lately. That this design is not so foreign from some people's thoughts, I must let you know that an honest bellwether[13] of our house (you have him now in England, I wish you could keep him there) had the impudence some years ago, in Parliament time, to shake my Lord Bishop of Kilaloe[14] by his lawn sleeve, and tell him in a threatening manner, "that he hoped to live to see the day when there should not be one of his order in the kingdom." [Footnote 13: Supposed to be Mr. Broderick. [F.]] [Footnote 14: Dr. Lindsay, afterwards Lord Primate. [S.]] These last lines perhaps you think a digression; therefore to return: I have told you the consequences we fully reckon upon from repealing the Sacramental Test, which although the greatest number of such as are for doing it, are actually in no manner of pain about it, and many of them care not threepence whether there be any Church, or no; yet because they pretend to argue from conscience as well as policy and interest, I thought it proper to understand and answer them accordingly. Now, sir, in answer to your question, whether if an attempt should be made here for repealing the Sacramental Test, it would be likely to succeed? The number of professed dissenters in this Parliament was, as I remember, something under a dozen, and I cannot call to mind above thirty others who were expected to fall in with them. This is certain, that the Presbyterian party having with great industry mustered up their forces, did endeavour one day upon occasion of a hint in my Lord Pembroke's speech, to introduce a debate about repealing the Test clause, when there appeared at least four to one odds against them; and the ablest of those who were reckoned the most staunch and thorough-paced Whigs upon all other occasions, fell off with an abhorrence at the first mention of this. I must desire you to take notice, that the terms of Whig and Tory, do not properly express the different interests in our parliament. I remember when I was last in England, I told the King, that the highest Tories we had with us would make tolerable Whigs there; this was certainly right, and still in the general continues so, unless you have since admitted new characteristics, which did not come within our definition.[15] Whoever bears a true veneration for the glorious memory of King William, as our great deliverer from Popery and slavery; whoever is firmly loyal to our present Queen, with an utter abhorrence and detestation of the Pretender; whoever approves the succession to the Crown in the House of Hanover, and is for preserving the doctrine and discipline of the Church of England, with an indulgence for scrupulous consciences; such a man we think acts upon right principles, and may be justly allowed a Whig: And I believe there are not six members in our House of Commons, who may not fairly come under this description. So that the parties among us are made up, on one side, of moderate Whigs, and on the other, of Presbyterians and their abettors; by which last I mean, such who can equally go to a Church or Conventicle, or such who are indifferent to all religion in general, or lastly such who affect to bear a personal rancour toward the clergy: These last are a set of men not of our own growth, their principles at least have been imported of late years; yet this whole party put together will not, I am confident, amount to above fifty men in Parliament, which can hardly be worked up into a majority of three hundred. [Footnote 15: The passage beginning with "I remember when I was last in England," and ending with "within our definition," is omitted by Faulkner. [T.S.]] As to the House of Lords, the difficulty there is conceived at least as great as in ours. So many of our temporal peers live in England, that the bishops are generally pretty near a par of the House, and we reckon they will be all to a man against repealing the Test; and yet their lordships are generally thought as good Whigs upon our principles as any in the kingdom. There are indeed a few lay lords who appear to have no great devotion for Episcopacy; and perhaps one or two more with whom certain powerful motives might be used for removing any difficulty whatsoever; but these are in no sort of a number to carry any point against the conjunction of the rest and the whole bench of bishops. Besides, the whole body of our clergy is utterly against repealing the Test, though they are entirely devoted to her Majesty, and hardly one in a hundred who are not very good Whigs in our acceptation of the word. And I must let you know, that we of Ireland are not yet come up to other folk's refinements; for we generally love and esteem our clergy, and think they deserve it; nay, we are apt to lay some weight upon their opinion, and would not willingly disoblige them, at least unless it were upon some greater point of interest than this. And their judgment in the present affair is the more to be regarded, because they are the last persons who will be affected by it: This makes us think them impartial, and that their concern is only for religion and the interest of the kingdom. Because the act which repeals the Test, will only qualify a layman for an employment, but not a Presbyterian or Anabaptist preacher for a church-living. Now I must take leave to inform you, that several members of our House, and myself among the rest, knowing some time ago what was upon the anvil, went to all the clergy we knew of any distinction, and desired their judgment of the matter, wherein we found a most wonderful agreement; there being but one divine that we could hear of in the whole kingdom, who appeared of a contrary sentiment, wherein he afterwards stood alone in the convocation, very little to his credit, though, as he hoped, very much to his interest. I will now consider a little the arguments offered to shew the advantages, or rather the necessity, of repealing the Test in Ireland. We are told, the Popish interest is here so formidable, that all hands should be joined to keep it under; that the only names of distinction among us ought to be those of Protestant and Papist, and that this expedient is the only means to unite all Protestants upon one common bottom. All which is nothing but misrepresentation and mistake. If we were under any real fear of the Papists in this kingdom, it would be hard to think us so stupid, not to be equally apprehensive with others, since we are likely to be the greatest, and more immediate sufferers; but on the contrary, we look upon them to be altogether as inconsiderable as the women and children. Their lands are almost entirely taken from them, and they are rendered incapable of purchasing any more; and for the little that remains, provision is made by the late act against Popery, that it will daily crumble away: To prevent which, some of the most considerable among them are already turned Protestants, and so in all probability will many more. Then, the Popish priests are all registered, and without permission (which I hope will not be granted) they can have no successors; so that the Protestant Clergy will find it perhaps no difficult matter to bring great numbers over to the Church; and in the meantime, the common people without leaders, without discipline, or natural courage, being little better than "hewers of wood, and drawers of water," are out of all capacity of doing any mischief, if they were ever so well inclined. Neither are they at all likely to join in any considerable numbers with an invader, having found so ill success when they were much more numerous and powerful; when they had a prince of their own religion to head them, had been trained for some years under a Popish deputy, and received such mighty aids from the French king. As to that argument used for repealing the Test, that it will unite all Protestants against the common enemy, I wonder by what figure those gentlemen speak who are pleased to advance it: Suppose in order to increase the friendship between you and me, a law should pass that I must have half your estate; do you think that would much advance the union between us? Or, suppose I share my fortune equally between my own children, and a stranger whom I take into my protection; will that be a method to unite them? Tis an odd way of uniting parties, to deprive a majority of part of their ancient right, by conferring it on a faction who had never any right at all, and therefore cannot be said to suffer any loss or injury if it be refused them. Neither is it very clear, how far some people may stretch the term of common enemy. How many are there of those that call themselves Protestants, who look upon our worship to be idolatrous as well as that of the Papists, and with great charity put Prelacy and Popery together, as terms convertible? And, therefore, there is one small doubt, I would be willingly satisfied in before I agree to the repealing of the Test; that is, whether, these same Protestants, when they have by their dexterity made themselves the national religion, and disposed the Church revenues among their pastors or themselves, will be so kind to allow us dissenters, I do not say a share in employments, but a bare toleration by law? The reason of my doubt is, because I have been so very idle as to read above fifty pamphlets, written by as many Presbyterian divines, loudly disclaiming this idol Toleration, some of them calling it (I know not how properly) a rag of Popery, and all agreeing it was to establish iniquity by law. Now, I would be glad to know when and where their successors have renounced this doctrine, and before what witnesses. Because, methinks I should be loth to see my poor titular bishop _in partibus_, seized on by mistake in the dark for a Jesuit, or be forced myself to keep my chaplain disguised like my butler, and steal to prayers in a back room, as my grandfather[l6] used in those times when the Church of England was malignant. [Footnote 16: This is Thomas Swift, vicar of Goodrich, in Herefordshire, "much distinguished by his courage, as well as his loyalty to King Charles the First, and the sufferings he underwent for that prince, more than any person of his condition in England." See the "Fragment of Autobiography," printed by Scott and Forster in their Lives of Swift. [T.S.]] But this is ripping up old quarrels long forgot; Popery is now the common enemy, against which we must all unite; I have been tired in history with the perpetual folly of those states who call in foreigners to assist them against a common enemy: But the mischief was, those allies would never be brought to allow that the common enemy was quite subdued. And they had reason; for it proved at last, that one part of the common enemy was those who called them in, and so the allies became at length the masters. 'Tis agreed among naturalists that a lion is a larger, a stronger, and more dangerous enemy than a cat; yet if a man were to have his choice, either a lion at his foot, bound fast with three or four chains, his teeth drawn out, and his claws pared to the quick, or an angry cat in full liberty at his throat; he would take no long time to determine. I have been sometimes admiring the wonderful significancy of that word persecution, and what various interpretations it hath acquired even within my memory. When I was a boy, I often heard the Presbyterians complain that they were not permitted to serve God in their own way; they said they did not repine at our employments, but thought that all men who live peaceably ought to have liberty of conscience, and leave to assemble. That impediment being removed at the Revolution, they soon learned to swallow the Sacramental Test and began to take very large steps, wherein all that offered to oppose them, were called men of a persecuting spirit. During the time the Bill against Occasional Conformity was on foot, persecution was every day rung in our ears, and now at last the Sacramental Test itself has the same name. Where then is this matter likely to end, when the obtaining of one request is only used as a step to demand another? A lover is ever complaining of cruelty while anything is denied him, and when the lady ceases to be cruel, she is from the next moment at his mercy: So persecution it seems, is everything that will not leave it in men's power to persecute others. There is one argument offered against a Sacramental Test, by a sort of men who are content to be styled of the Church of England, who perhaps attend its service in the morning, and go with their wives to a conventicle in the afternoon, confessing they hear very good doctrine in both. These men are much offended that so holy an institution as that of the Lord's Supper should be made subservient to such mercenary purposes as the getting of an employment. Now, it seems, the law, concluding all men to be members of that Church where they receive the Sacrament; and supposing all men to live like Christians (especially those who are to have employments) did imagine they received the Sacrament in course about four times a year, and therefore only desired it might appear by certificate to the public, that such who took an office were members of the Church established, by doing their ordinary duty. However, lest we should offend them, we have often desired they would deal candidly with us; for if the matter stuck only there, we would propose it in parliament, that every man who takes an employment should, instead of receiving the sacrament, be obliged to swear, that he is a member of the Church of Ireland by law established, with Episcopacy, and so forth; and as they do now in Scotland, _to be true to the Kirk_. But when we drive them thus far, they always retire to the main body of the argument, urge the hardship that men should be deprived the liberty of serving their Queen and country, on account of their conscience: And, in short, have recourse to the common style of their half brethren. Now whether this be a sincere way of arguing, I will appeal to any other judgment but theirs. There is another topic of clamour somewhat parallel to the foregoing: It seems, by the Test clause, the military officers are obliged to receive the Sacrament as well as the civil. And it is a matter of some patience to hear the dissenters declaiming upon this occasion: They cry they are disarmed, they are used like Papists; when an enemy appears at home, or from abroad, they must sit still, and see their throats cut, or be hanged for high treason if they offer to defend themselves. Miserable condition! Woful dilemma! It is happy for us all, that the Pretender was not apprized of this passive Presbyterian principle, else he would have infallibly landed in our northern parts, and found them all sat down in their formalities, as the Gauls did the Roman senators, ready to die with honour in their callings. Sometimes to appease their indignation, we venture to give them hopes that in such a case the government will perhaps connive, and hardly be so severe to hang them for defending it against the letter of the law; to which they readily answer, that they will not lie at our mercy, but let us fight our battles ourselves. Sometimes we offer to get an act, by which upon all Popish insurrections at home, or Popish invasion from abroad, the government shall be empowered to grant commissions to all Protestants whatsoever, without that persecuting circumstance of obliging them to say their prayers when they receive the Sacrament; but they abhor all thoughts of occasional commissions, they will not do our drudgery, and we reap the benefit: It is not worth their while to fight _pro aris et focis_, and they had rather lose their estates, liberties, religion and lives, than the pleasure of governing. But to bring this discourse toward a conclusion: If the dissenters will be satisfied with such a toleration by law as hath been granted them in England, I believe the majority of both Houses will fall readily in with it; farther it will be hard to persuade this House of Commons, and perhaps much harder the next. For, to say the truth, we make a mighty difference here between suffering thistles to grow among us, and wearing them for posies. We are fully convinced in our consciences, that _we_ shall always tolerate them, but not quite so fully that _they_ will always tolerate us, when it comes to their turn; and _we_ are the majority, and _we_ are in possession. He who argues in defence of a law in force, not antiquated or obsolete, but lately enacted, is certainly on the safer side, and may be allowed to point out the dangers he conceives to foresee in the abrogation of it. For if the consequences of repealing this clause, should at some time or other enable the Presbyterians to work themselves up into the National Church; instead of uniting Protestants, it would sow eternal divisions among them. First, their own sects, which now lie dormant, would be soon at cuffs again with each other about power and preferment; and the dissenting Episcopals, perhaps discontented to such a degree, as upon some fair unhappy occasion, would be able to shake the firmest loyalty, which none can deny theirs to be. Neither is it very difficult to conjecture from some late proceedings, at what a rate this faction is likely to drive wherever it gets the whip and the seat. They have already set up courts of spiritual judicature in open contempt of the laws: They send missionaries everywhere, without being invited, in order to convert the Church of England folks to Christianity. They are as vigilant as _I know who_, to attend persons on their death-beds, and for purposes much alike. And what practices such principles as these (with many other that might be invidious to mention) may spawn when they are laid out to the sun, you may determine at leisure. Lastly, Whether we are so entirely sure of their loyalty upon the present foot of government as you may imagine, their detractors make a question, which however, does, I think, by no means affect the body of dissenters; but the instance produced is, of some among their leading teachers in the north, who having refused the Abjuration Oath, yet continue their preaching, and have abundance of followers. The particulars are out of my head, but the fact is notorious enough, and I believe has been published; I think it a pity, it has not been remedied. Thus, I have fairly given you, Sir, my own opinion, as well as that of a great majority in both Houses here, relating to this weighty affair, upon which I am confident you may securely reckon. I will leave you to make what use of it you please. I am, with great respect, Sir, Yours, &c. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** THE PRESBYTERIANS' PLEA OF MERIT. NOTE. THE reference casually made by Swift, in his "Letter on the Sacramental Test," to his grandfather and the "malignant Church," probably points to one of the causes for his persistent dislike towards the Protestant dissenters. His attitude displays a profound disgust both for their teaching and their conduct; and he found, very early, occasion to ridicule them, as may be seen in his description of Jack, Martin, and Peter in "A Tale of a Tub" (see vol. i. of this edition). In spite, however, of this attitude, Swift seems to have remained silent on the question of the repeal of the Test Act for a period of more than twenty years. He had published his "Letter from a Member of the House of Commons in Ireland" in 1708; but it was not until 1731 that he again took up his pen against Dissent. In that year, and in the two subsequent ones, the Presbyterians fought very strenuously for a mitigation of the laws against them; and the literature which has been handed down to us of that fight is by no means insignificant. The tracts which we know to be of Swift's authorship are: "The Presbyterians' Plea of Merit" (1731); "A Narrative of the several Attempts which the Dissenters of Ireland have made for a repeal of the Sacramental Test" (1731); "The Advantages proposed by Repealing the Sacramental Test impartially considered" (1732); "Queries Relating to the Sacramental Test" (1732); "Reasons humbly offered to the Parliament of Ireland for Repealing the Test in favour of Roman Catholics" (1733); "Some Few Thoughts Concerning the Test;" and, according to Sir Walter Scott, "Ten Reasons for Repealing the Test Act." Monck Mason, in his elaborate note on this particular literature of the period (see "History of St. Patrick's Cathedral," pp. 387, 388, notes), gives a list of sixteen pamphlets, many of which he considers to be so well written that they would have done no discredit to Swift himself. The list is here transcribed for the benefit of the student: (i.) "Nature and Consequences of the Sacramental Test considered; with Remarks humbly offered for the Repeal of it." 1732. (ii.) "Remarks on a Pamphlet, entitled, 'The Nature and Consequences of the Sacramental Test Considered.'" Dublin, 1732, 12mo. (iii.) "The History of the Test Act: in which the Mistakes in some Writings against it are Rectified, and the Importance of it to the Church explained." Printed at London and Dublin: and reprinted by George Faulkner. 1733, 12mo. (iv.) "Plain Reasons against the Repeal of the Test Act; humbly offered to publick Consideration." Dublin: printed by George Faulkner. 1733, 12mo. (v.) "The Test Act Examined by the Test of Reason." Dublin, 1733, 12mo. (vi.) "The Case of the Episcopal Dissenters in Scotland, and that of the Dissenters in Ireland Compared; with Relation to Toleration, and a Capacity for Civil Offices. In a Letter to a Member of Parliament." Dublin, 1733, 8vo. ¶ This tract refers to another entitled: "The Tables Turned against the Presbyterians; or, Reasons against the Sacramental Test, by a General Assembly of Scotland." (vii.) "The Case of the Test Considered, with respect to Ireland." Dublin, Faulkner, 1733. (viii) "The natural Impossibilities of better Uniting Protestants &c. by Repealing the Test." Dublin: Printed by George Faulkner, 1733. (ix.) "Ten Reasons for Repealing the Test Act." ¶ Scott reprints this as Swift's from the broadside original. (x-xi.) "A Vindication of the Protestant Dissenters from the Aspersions Cast upon them in a late Pamphlet, entitled, 'The Presbyterians 'Plea of Merit &c.,' with some Remarks on a Paper called 'The Correspondent,' giving a pretended Narrative, &c." ¶ Swift refers to this pamphlet in his "Roman Catholic Reasons for Repealing the Test." It is also noted by the printer of the undated second edition of the London reprint of "The Plea." (xii.) "The Dispute Adjusted, about the _proper time_ of applying for a Repeal of the Corporation and Test Acts: by shewing that _no time is proper_. By the Reverend Father in God, Edmund Lord Bishop of London." ¶ Faulkner, in the second edition of "The Presbyterians' Plea," advertises this tract to appear in 1733. The author of "The Case of the Episcopal Dissenters in Scotland" mentions that it has been "lately re-printed" in Ireland, but that it is "falsely ascribed to the Bishop of London." (xiii.) "The Test Act considered in a Political Light." 1733. Broadside. (xiv.) "Queries upon the Demand of the Presbyterians to have the Sacramental Test Repealed at this Session of Parliament." 1733. Broadside. ¶ These Queries differ somewhat from those put by Swift in 1732. (xv.) "A Letter from a Freeman of a certain Burrough, in the North of Ireland, to his Friend and Representative in Parliament; shewing Reasons why the Test Act should not be Repealed." 1733. Broadside. (xvi.) "The Grunter's Request To take Off the Test." [A Poem.] 1733. 12mo. Scott suggests ("Life of Jonathan Swift," 1824, p.401) that "probably more occasional tracts" were written by the Dean on the subject of the Test "than have yet been recovered." The curious student may satisfy himself on this matter by reading the above pamphlets. Neither Monck Mason, Dr. Barrett, nor Scott himself, cared to take upon themselves to decide whether any of them were by Swift; nor have any of the Dean's modern biographers thrown any light on the subject. A point to note in this consideration is the fact that Faulkner, in his collected edition of Swift's works, did not include any of these; and, as he himself published many of them, he would certainly have known something of their authorship. Swift's agitation against the repeal of the Test was so successful that the Irish House of Commons found itself in a majority for the Test. In addition to the prose tracts Swift wrote a stinging poem "On the Words Brother Protestants and Fellow Christians," an expression familiarly used by the advocates for the Repeal of the Test Act. This poem brought him into personal conflict with one Serjeant Bettesworth, who "openly swore, before many hundreds of people, that upon the first opportunity, by the help of ruffians, he would murder or maim the Dean of St. Patrick's." The lines to which the Serjeant took exception were: "Thus at the bar the booby Bettesworth, Though half-a-crown o'erpays his sweat's worth; Who knows in law, nor text, nor margent, Calls Singleton his brother serjeant." The affair ended in the further ridicule of Bettesworth, who complained in the Irish House of Commons that the lampoon had cost him £1,200 a year. A full account of Swift's interview with Bettesworth is given by Swift in a letter to the Duke of Dorset, dated January, 1733-1734; and the "Grub Street Journal" for August 9th, 1734, tells how the inhabitants of the City of Dublin came to Swift's aid. Perhaps Bettesworth finally found consolation in the thought, satirically suggested by Dr. William Dunkin, that, after all, it might be worth the loss of money to be "transmitted to posterity in Dr. Swift's works." "For had he not pointed me out, I had slept till E'en Doomsday, a poor insignificant reptile; Half lawyer, half actor, pert, dull, and inglorious, Obscure, and unheard of--but now I'm notorious: Fame has but two gates, a white and a black one; The worst they can say is, I got in at the back one: If the end be obtained 'tis equal what portal I enter, since I'm to be render'd immortal: So clysters applied to the anus, 'tis said, By skilful physicians, give ease to the head-- Though my title be spurious, why should I be dastard, A man is a man though he should be a bastard. Why sure 'tis some comfort that heroes should slay us, If I fall, I would fall by the hand of Aeneas; And who by the Drapier would not rather damn'd be, Than demigoddized by madrigal Namby."[1] [Footnote 1: Namby was the nickname for Ambrose Philips.] Scott, and all Swift's editors and biographers, state that "The Presbyterians' Plea of Merit" was first published in 1731. What authority they have for this statement, I have not been able to discover. My own research has, so far, failed to find a copy of it with the date, 1731, on the title-page. The edition upon which the present text is based, is that printed by Faulkner in 1733, of the title-page of which, a facsimile is here given. This, I believe to be the first edition. Scott, following Nichols, states that in the first edition of "The Plea," the "Ode to Humphry French, Esq.," appeared, and that in the second edition, this ode was omitted to make room for the "Narrative of the Several Attempts made for the Repeal of the Test Act." Now in the British Museum, there are two _undated_ editions of "The Plea," which bear out this statement; but these, as the title-pages inform us, are London reprints of Dublin editions. Since, however, no one has recorded dated Dublin editions corresponding exactly to these London reprints, the evidence of the reprints counts for very little. Monck Mason, a very accurate authority, usually, says distinctly, "The Plea" was printed in 1731, and a second edition issued in 1733; but one gathers from his note that the only edition in his possession was that of 1733, and this has neither the "Ode" nor the "Narrative"; the last page consisting of an advertisement of the collected editions of Swift's works, which Faulkner was then preparing. The first of the London reprints bears no indication of any particular edition; the second has the words "second edition" on the title-page. In his note to this reprint of the "Narrative," and in his "Life of Swift," Scott refers to a Dublin periodical called "The Correspondent" (in which the "Narrative" was first published) as being printed in 1731. The only edition of this periodical, of which I have either seen or heard, is the copy in the British Museum, and that copy distinctly states: "Printed by James Hoey in Skinner-Row, 1733." If, therefore, this be the first edition of "The Correspondent," the "Narrative" must be ascribed to the year 1733, and the second edition of "The Plea" to the end of the same, or the beginning of the following year. I conclude, therefore, first, that the first edition of "The Plea" is that dated "Dublin, 1733;" second, that the undated London reprint with the "Ode" is of the same year; and, lastly, that the undated second London reprint with the "Narrative," is probably of the year, 1734. Examining Scott's text of this tract, one is forced to the conclusion that he could not have seen the Dublin edition of 1733; whereas, its almost exact similarity to the London reprint suggests that he used that. For purposes of the present text all three editions have been collated with one another, and with those given by Faulkner, Hawkesworth and Scott. [T.S.] THE _Presbyterians_ PLEA OF MERIT; In Order to take off the TEST, Impartially Examined. [Illustration] _DUBLIN:_ Printed and fold by GEORGE FAULKNER, in _Essex-Street_, opposite to the _Bridge_, 1733. We have been told in the common newspapers, that all attempts are to be made this session by the Presbyterians, and their abettors, for taking off the Test, as a kind of preparatory step, to make it go down smoother in England. For, if once their light would so shine, the Papists, delighted with the blaze, would all come in, and dance about it. This I take to be a prudent method; like that of a discreet physician, who first gives a new medicine to a dog, before he prescribes it to a human creature.[1] [Footnote 1: See note prefixed to the "Letter on the Sacramental Test." [T.S.]] The Presbyterians have, ever since the Revolution directed their learned casuists to employ their pens on this subject; by shewing the merits and pretensions upon which they claim this justice; as founded upon the services they did toward the restoration of King Charles the Second; and at the Revolution under the Prince of Orange. Which pleas I take to be the most singular, in their kind, that ever were offered in the face of the sun, against the most glaring light of truth, and against a continuation of public facts, known to all Europe for twenty years together. I shall, therefore, impartially examine the merits and conduct of the Presbyterians, upon those two great events; and the pretensions to favour, which they challenge upon them. Soon after the Reformation of the Church in England, under Edward the Sixth, upon Queen Mary's succeeding to the crown, who restored Popery, many Protestants fled out of England, to escape the persecution raised against the Church, as her brother had left it established. Some of these exiles went to Geneva; which city had received the doctrine of Calvin, and rejected the government of bishops; with many other refinements. These English exiles readily embraced the Geneva system; and having added farther improvements of their own, upon Queen Mary's death returned to England; where they preached up their own opinions; inveighing bitterly against Episcopacy, and all rites and ceremonies, however innocent and ancient in the Church: building upon this foundation; to run as far as possible from Popery, even in the most minute and indifferent circumstances: this faction, under the name of Puritan, became very turbulent, during the whole reign of Queen Elizabeth; and were always discouraged by that wise queen, as well as by her two successors. However, their numbers, as well as their insolence and perverseness, so far increased, that soon after the death of King James the First, many instances of their petulancy and scurrility, are to be seen in their pamphlets, written for some years after; which was a trade they began in the days of Queen Elizabeth: particularly with great rancour against the bishops, the habits, and the ceremonies: Such were that scurrilous libel under the title of Martin Mar-prelate,[2] and several others. And, although the Earl of Clarendon[3] tells us, that, until the year 1640, (as I remember) the kingdom was in a state of perfect peace and happiness, without the least appearance of thought or design toward making any alterations in religion or government; yet I have found, by often rummaging for old books in Little Britain and Duck-Lane, a great number of pamphlets printed from the year 1530[4] to 1640, full of as bold and impious railing expressions, against the lawful power of the Crown, and the order of bishops, as ever were uttered during the Rebellion, or the whole subsequent tyranny of that fanatic anarchy. However, I find it manifest, that Puritanism did not erect itself into a new, separate species of religion, till some time after the Rebellion began. For, in the latter times of King James the First, and the former part of his son, there were several Puritan bishops, and many Puritan private clergymen; while people went, as their inclinations led them, to hear preachers of each party in the parish churches. For the Puritan clergy had received Episcopal orders as well as the rest. But, soon after the Rebellion broke out, the term Puritan gradually dropped, and that of Presbyterian succeeded; which sect was, in two or three years, established in all its forms, by what they called an Ordinance of the Lords and Commons, without consulting the King; who was then at war against his rebels. And, from this period the Church continued under persecution, till monarchy was restored in the year 1660. [Footnote 2: According to Mr. Edward Arber the writers of these famous tracts were the Rev. John Penny and Job Throckmorton, Esq. He calls these two writers "the most eminent prose satirists of the Elizabethan age." For a full account of these tracts and the controversy, see Mr. Arber's "Introductory Sketch to the Martin Mar-prelate Controversy, 1588-1590" (1879, English Scholar's Library). The aim of the Mar-prelate writers is thus stated by the able author of that sketch: "To ridicule and affront a proud hierarchy [the bishops] endowed with large legal means of doing mischief, and not wanting in will to exercise these powers to the full. The spell of the unnatural civil power which had been enjoyed by the Papal prelates in this country remained with their Protestant successors until this Controversy broke it: so that from this time onwards the bishops set about to forge a new spell, 'the Divine Right of their temporal position and power', which hallucination was dissolved by the Long Parliament: from which time a bishop has usually been considered no more than a man" (Preface, pp. 11-12). [T.S.]] [Footnote 3: Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon (1608-1674), the author of the "History of the Great Rebellion." [T.S.]] [Footnote 4: The original edition has 1630. [T.S.]] In a year or two after; we began to hear of a new party risen, and growing in the Parliament, as well as the army; under the name of Independent: It spread, indeed somewhat more in the latter; but not equal with the Presbyterians, either in weight or number, till the very time[5] that the King was murdered. [Footnote 5: Faulkner prints: "until some time before the King was murdered."[T.S.]] When the King, who was then a prisoner in the Isle of Wight, had made his last concessions for a peace to the Commissioners of the Parliament, who attended him there; upon their return to London, they reported his Majesty's answer to the House. Whereupon, a number of moderate members, who, as Ludlow[6] says, had secured their own terms with his Majesty, managed with so much art, as to obtain a majority, in a thin house, for passing a vote, that _the King's concessions were a ground for future settlement_. But the great officers of the army, joining with the discontented members, came to a resolution, of excluding all those who had consented to that vote; which they executed in a military way. Ireton told Fairfax the General,[7] a rigid Presbyterian, of this resolution; who thereupon issued his orders for drawing out the army the next morning, and placing guards in Westminster-hall, the Court of Requests, and the lobby; who, in obedience to the General, in conjunction with those members who opposed the vote, would let no member enter the House, except those of their own party. Upon which, the question for bringing the King to justice, was immediately put and carried without opposition, that I can find. Then, an order was made for his trial; the time and place appointed; the judges named; of whom Fairfax himself was one; although by the advice or threats of his wife, he declined sitting among them. However, by fresh orders under his own hand, which I have seen in print, he appointed guards to attend the judges at the trial, and to keep the city in quiet; as he did likewise to prevent any opposition from the people, upon the day of execution. [Footnote 6: Edmund Ludlow (1620?-1693) lieutenant-general of the Parliamentary army. He was one of the judges of King Charles's trial, and who signed the death-warrant. He died at Vevay, in Switzerland, where he had fled on finding that Charles's judges were not included in the Act of Indemnity. His memoirs were printed at Vevay in 1698-1699.3 vols. 8vo. It is to these Swift refers. [T.S.]] [Footnote 7: Ireton and Fairfax were two famous generals of the Parliamentary army serving with Cromwell. [T.S.]] From what I have already deduced, it appears manifest, that the differences between those two sects, Presbyterian and Independent, did not then amount to half so much as what there is between a Whig and Tory at present among us. The design of utterly extirpating monarchy and episcopacy, was equally the same in both; evidently the consequence of the very same principles, upon which the Presbyterians alone began, continued, and would have ended in the same events; if towards the conclusion, they had not been bearded by that new party, with whom they could not agree about dividing the spoil. However, they held a good share of civil and military employments during the whole time of the usurpation; whose names, and actions, and preferments, are frequent in the accounts of those times. For I make no doubt, that all the prudent Presbyterians complied in proper seasons, falling in with the stream; and thereby got that share in employments, which many of them held to the Restoration; and perhaps too many of them after. In the same manner, we find our wisest Tories, in both kingdoms, upon the change of hands and measures at the Queen's death, have endeavoured for several years, by due compliances, to recover the time they had lost by a temporary obstinacy; wherein they have well succeeded, according to their degrees of merit. Of whose names I could here make honourable mention, if I did not fear it might offend their modesty. As to what is alleged, that some of the Presbyterians declared openly against the King's murder, I allow it to be true. But, from what motives? No other can possibly be assigned, than perfect spite, rage, and envy, to find themselves wormed out of all power by a new infant spawn of Independents, sprung from their own bowels. It is true; the differences in religious tenets between them are very few and trifling; the chief quarrel, as far as I remember, relating to congregational and national assemblies. But, wherever interest or power thinks fit to interfere, it little imports what principles the opposite parties think fit to charge upon each other: for, we see, at this day, that the Tories are more hated by the whole set of zealous Whigs, than the very Papists themselves; and, in effect, as much unqualified for the smallest office: although, both these parties assert themselves to be of the same religion, in all its branches of doctrine and discipline; and profess the same loyalty to the same Protestant King and his heirs. If the reader would know what became of this Independent party, upon whom all the mischief is charged by their Presbyterian brethren; he may please to observe, that during the whole usurpation, they contended by degrees with their parent sect, and, as I have already said, shared in employments; and gradually, after the Restoration, mingled with the mass of Presbyterians; lying ever since undistinguished in the herd of dissenters. The Presbyterian merit is of as little weight, when they allege themselves instrumental towards the King's restoration. The kingdom grew tired with those ridiculous models of government: First, by a House of Lords and Commons, without a king; then without bishops; afterwards by a Rump[8] and lords temporal: then by a Rump alone; next by a single person for life, in conjunction with a council: by agitators: by major-generals: by a new kind of representatives from the three kingdoms: by the keepers of the liberties of England; with other schemes that have slipped out of my memory. Cromwell was dead; his son Richard, a weak, ignorant wretch, who gave up his monarchy much in the same manner with the two usurping kings of Brentford.[9] The people harassed with taxes and other oppressions; the King's party, then called the Cavaliers began to recover their spirits. The few nobility scattered through the kingdom, who lived in a most retired manner, observing the confusion of things, could no longer endure to be ridden by bakers, cobblers, brewers, and the like, at the head of armies; and plundering everywhere like French dragoons: The Rump assembly grew despicable to those who had raised them: The city of London, exhausted by almost twenty years contributing to their own ruin, declared against them. The Rump, after many deaths and resurrections, was, in the most contemptuous manner, kicked out, and burned in effigy. The excluded members were let in: a free Parliament called in as legal a manner as the times would allow; and the King restored. [Footnote 8: This name was given to that part of the House of Commons which remained after the moderate men had been expelled by military-force. [S.]] [Footnote 9: In the "Rehearsal."] The second claim of Presbyterian merit is founded upon their services against the dangerous designs of King James the Second; while that prince was using all his endeavours to introduce Popery, which he openly professed upon his coming to the crown: To this they add, their eminent services at the Revolution, under the Prince of Orange. Now, the quantum of Presbyterian merit, during the four years' reign of that weak, bigoted, and ill-advised prince, as well as at the time of the Revolution, will easily be computed, by a recourse to a great number of histories, pamphlets, and public papers, printed in those times, and some afterwards; beside the verbal testimonies of many persons yet alive, who are old enough to have known and observed the Dissenters' conduct in that critical period. It is agreed, that upon King Charles the Second's death, soon after his successor had publicly owned himself a Roman Catholic; he began with his first caresses to the Church party; from whom having received very cold discouraging answers; he applied to the Presbyterian leaders and teachers, being advised by the priests and Popish courtiers, that the safest method toward introducing his own religion, would be by taking off the Sacramental Test, and giving a full liberty of conscience to all religions, (I suppose, that professed Christianity.) It seems, that the Presbyterians, in the latter years of King Charles the Second, upon account of certain plots, (allowed by Bishop Burnet to be genuine) had been, for a short time, forbid to hold their conventicles: Whereupon, these charitable Christians, out of perfect resentment against the Church, received the gracious offers of King James with the strongest professions of loyalty, and highest acknowledgments for his favour. I have seen several of their addresses, full of thanks and praises, with bitter insinuations of what they had suffered; putting themselves and the Papists upon the same foot; as fellow-sufferers for conscience; and with the style of, _Our brethren the Roman Catholics_. About this time began the project of closeting, (which has since been practised many times, with more art and success,) where the principal gentlemen of the kingdom were privately catechised by his Majesty, to know whether, if a new parliament were called, they would agree to pass an act for repealing the Sacramental Test, and establishing a general liberty of conscience. But he received so little encouragement, that, despairing of success, he had recourse to his dispensing power, which the judges had determined to be part of his prerogative. By colour of this determination, he preferred several Presbyterians, and many Papists, to civil and military employments. While the king was thus busied, it is well known, that Monsieur Fagel, the Dutch envoy in London, delivered the opinion of the Prince and Princess of Orange, concerning the repeal of the Test; whereof the king had sent an account to their Highnesses, to know how far they approved of it. The substance of their answer, as reported by Fagel, was this, "That their highnesses thought very well of a liberty of conscience; but by no means of giving employments to any other persons, than those who were of the National Church." This opinion was confirmed by several reasons: I cannot be more particular, not having the paper by me, although it hath been printed in many accounts of those times. And thus much every moderate churchman would perhaps submit to: But, to trust any part of the civil power in the hands of those whose interest, inclination, conscience, and former practices have been wholly turned to introduce a different system of religion and government, hath very few examples in any Christian state; nor any at all in Holland, the great patroness of universal toleration. Upon the first intelligence King James received of an intended invasion by the Prince of Orange; among great numbers of Papists, to increase his troops, he gave commissions to several Presbyterians; some of whom had been officers under the Rump; and particularly he placed one Richards, a noted Presbyterian, at the head of a regiment; who had been governor of Wexford in Cromwell's time, and is often mentioned by Ludlow in his Memoirs. This regiment was raised in England against the Prince of Orange: the colonel made his son a captain, whom I knew, and who was as zealous a Presbyterian as his father. However at the time of the prince's landing, the father easily foreseeing how things would go, went over, like many others to the prince, who continued him in his regiment; but coming over a year or two after to assist in raising the siege of Derry, he behaved himself so like either a coward or a traitor, that his regiment was taken from him. I will now consider the conduct of the Church party, during the whole reign of that unfortunate king. They were so unanimous against promising to pass an act for repealing the Test, and establishing a general liberty of conscience; that the king durst not trust a parliament; but encouraged by the professions of loyalty given him by his Presbyterian friends, went on with his dispensing power. The Church clergy, at that time are allowed to have written the best collection of tracts against Popery that ever appeared in England; which are to this day in the highest esteem. But, upon the strictest enquiry, I could never hear of above one or two papers published by the Presbyterians at that time upon the same subject. Seven great prelates (he of Canterbury among the rest) were sent to the Tower, for presenting a petition, wherein they desired to be excused in not obeying an illegal command from the King. The Bishop of London, Dr. Compton,[10] was summoned to answer before the Commissioners for Ecclesiastical Affairs, for not suspending Dr. Sharp[11] (afterwards Archbishop of York) by the King's command. If the Presbyterians expressed the same zeal upon any occasion, the instances of it are not as I can find, left upon record, or transmitted by tradition. The proceedings against Magdalen College in Oxford, for refusing to comply with the King's mandate for admitting a professed Papist upon their foundation, are a standing proof of the courage and firmness in religion shewn by that learned society, to the ruin of their fortunes. The Presbyterians know very well, that I could produce many more instances of the same kind. But these are enough in so short a paper as I intend at present. [Footnote 10: Henry Compton (1632-1713), educated at Oxford, was created Bishop of London in 1675. During the Revolution of 1688 he conveyed the Princess Anne from London to Nottingham. After, he crowned her Queen of England. He was the author of a few works of little importance, such as the "Treatise on the Holy Communion." [T.S.]] [Footnote 11: John Sharp (1644-1714) was educated at Cambridge, and created Archbishop of York in 1691. He gave great offence to James II. by his preaching against Roman Catholicism. This is the same Archbishop Sharp who prevented Swift's appointment to a bishopric, by urging that the author of "A Tale of a Tub" was not a proper person to hold such an office. See note prefixed to "A Tale of a Tub," vol. i., p. xcvi, of this edition of Swift's Works. [T.S.]] It is indeed very true, that after King William was settled on the English throne, the Presbyterians began to appear, and offer their credentials, and demand favour; and the new King having been originally bred a Calvinist, was desirous enough to make them easy (if that would do it) by a legal toleration; although in his heart he never bore much affection to that sect; nor designed to favour them farther than it stood with the present scheme of politics: as I have long since been assured by the greatest men of Whig principles at that time in England. It is likewise true, nor will it be denied; that when the King was possessed of the English crown; and the remainder of the quarrel was left to be decided in this kingdom; the Presbyterians wisely chose to join with the Protestant army, rather than with that of King James their old friend, whose affairs were then in a manner desperate. They were wise enough to know, that this kingdom, divided against itself, could never prevail against the united power of England. They fought _pro aris et focis_; for their estates and religion; which latter will never suffer so much by the Church of England as by that of Rome, where they are counted heretics as well as we: and consequently they have no other game to play. But, what merit they can build upon having joined with a Protestant army, under a King they acknowledged, to defend their own liberties and properties against a Popish enemy under an abdicated King; is, I confess to me absolutely inconceivable; and I believe will equally be so for ever, to any reasonable man. When these sectaries were several years ago making the same attempt for abolishing the Test, many groundless reports were industriously and seasonably spread, of an invasion threatened by the Pretender on the north of Ireland. At which time the Presbyterians in their pamphlets, argued in a menacing manner, that if the Pretender should invade those parts of the kingdom, where the numbers and estates of dissenters chiefly lay; they would sit still, and let us fight our own battles;[12] since they were to reap no advantage, whichever side should be victors. If this were the course they intended to take in such a case; I should desire to know, how they could contrive safely to stand neuters, otherwise than by a compact with the Pretender and his army, to support their neutrality, and protect them against the forces of the Crown? This is a necessary supposition; because they must otherwise have inevitably been a prey to both. However, by this frank declaration, they sufficiently shewed their good-will; and confirmed the common charge laid at their door; that a Scottish or northern Presbyterian hates our Episcopal Established Church more than Popery itself. And, the reason for this hatred, is natural enough; because it is the Church alone, that stands in the way between them and power, which Popery doth not. [Footnote 12: See the poem, reprinted by Monck Mason ("History of St. Patrick's," p. 388 note), entitled: "The Grunters' request To take off the Test," in which the poet advises his "lauds" to "faight y'er ain battel." [T.S.]] Upon this occasion I am in some doubt, whether the political spreaders of those chimerical invasions, made a judicious choice in fixing the northern parts of Ireland for that romantic enterprize. Nor, can I well understand the wisdom of the Presbyterians in countenancing and confirming those reports. Because it seems to cast a most infamous reflection upon the loyalty and religious principles of their whole body: For if there had been any truth in the matter, the consequence must have been allowed, that the Pretender counted upon more assistance from his father's friends the Presbyterians, by choosing to land in those very parts, where their number, wealth, and power most prevailed; rather than among those of his own religion. And therefore, in charity to this sect, I rather incline to believe, that those reports of an invasion were formed and spread by the race of small politicians, in order to do a seasonable job. As to Popery in general, which for a thousand years past hath been introducing and multiplying corruptions both in doctrine and discipline; I look upon it to be the most absurd system of Christianity professed by any nation. But I cannot apprehend this kingdom to be in much danger from it. The estates of Papists are very few; crumbling into small parcels, and daily diminishing. Their common people are sunk in poverty, ignorance, and cowardice, and of as little consequence as women and children. Their nobility and gentry are at least one-half ruined, banished, or converted: They all soundly feel the smart of what they suffered in the last Irish war. Some of them are already retired into foreign countries; others as I am told, intend to follow them; and the rest, I believe, to a man, who still possess any lands, are absolutely determined never to hazard them again for the sake of establishing their superstition. If it hath been thought fit, as some observe, to abate of the law's rigour against Popery in this kingdom, I am confident it was done for very wise reasons, considering the situation of affairs abroad at different times, and the interest of the Protestant religion in general. And as I do not find the least fault in this proceeding; so I do not conceive why a sunk discarded party, who neither expect nor desire anything more than a quiet life; should under the names of highflyers, Jacobites, and many other vile appellations, be charged so often in print, and at common tables, with endeavouring to introduce Popery and the Pretender; while the Papists abhor them above all other men, on account of severities against their priests in her late Majesty's reign; when the now disbanded reprobate party was in power. This I was convinced of some years ago by a long journey into the southern parts; where I had the curiosity to send for many priests of the parishes I passed through; and, to my great satisfaction found them everywhere abounding in professions of loyalty to the late King George; for which they gave me the reasons above-mentioned; at the same time complaining bitterly of the hardships they suffered under the Queen's last ministry. I return from this digression to the modest demands of the Presbyterians for a repeal of the Sacramental Test, as a reward for their merits at the Restoration and the Revolution; which merits I have fairly represented as well as my memory will allow me. If I have committed any mistakes they must be of little moment. The facts and principal circumstances are what I have obtained and digested, from reading the histories of those times, written by each party; and many thousands have done the same as well as I, who I am sure have in their minds drawn the same conclusions. This is the faction, and these the men, who are now resuming their applications, and giving in their bills of merit to both kingdoms upon two points, which of all others, they have the least pretensions to offer. I have collected the facts with all possible impartiality, from the current histories of those times; and have shewn, although very briefly, the gradual proceedings of those sectaries under the denomination of Puritans, Presbyterians, and Independents, for about the space of an hundred and eighty years, from the beginning of Queen Elizabeth to this present time. But, notwithstanding all that can be said, these very schismatics (for such they are in temporals as well as spirituals) are now again expecting, soliciting, and demanding, (not without insinuating threats, according to their custom) that the Parliament should fix them upon an equal foot with the Church established. I would fain know to what branch of the legislature they can have the forehead to apply. Not to my lords the bishops; who must have often read, how the predecessors of this very faction, acting upon the same principles, drove the whole bench out of the house; who were then, and hitherto continue one of the three estates. Not to the temporal peers, the second of the three estates; who must have heard, that, immediately after those rebellious fanatics had murdered their king, they voted a House of Lords to be useless and dangerous, and would let them sit no longer, otherwise than when elected as commoners: Not to the House of Commons; who must have heard, that in those fanatic times the Presbyterian and Independent commanders in the army, by military power, expelled all the moderate men out of the house, and left a Rump to govern the nation. Lastly, not to the Crown, which those very saints destined to rule the earth, trampled under their feet, and then in cold blood murdered the blessed wearer. But, the session now approaching, and a clan of dissenting teachers being come up to town from their northern headquarters, accompanied by many of their elders and agents, and supported by a general contribution, to solicit their establishment, with a capacity of holding all military as well as civil employments; I think it high time, that this paper should see the light. However, I cannot conclude without freely confessing, that if the Presbyterians should obtain their ends, I could not be sorry to find them mistaken in the point which they have most at heart by the repeal of the Test; I mean the benefit of employments. For, after all, what assurance can a Scottish northern dissenter, born on Irish ground, have, that he shall be treated with as much favour as a true Scot born beyond the Tweed? I am ready enough to believe that all I have said will avail but little. I have the common excuse of other men, when I think myself bound by all religious and civil ties, to discharge my conscience, and to warn my countrymen upon this important occasion. It is true, the advocates for this scheme promise a new world, after this blessed work shall be completed: that all animosities and faction must immediately drop; that the only distinction in this kingdom will then be of Papist and Protestant. For, as to Whig and Tory, High Church and Low Church, Jacobite and Hanoverian, Court and Country party, English and Irish interests, Dissenters and Conformists, New Light and Old Light, Anabaptist and Independent, Quaker and Muggletonian, they will all meet and jumble together into a perfect harmony, at the sessions and assizes, on the bench and in the revenues; and upon the whole, in all civil and military trust, not excepting the great councils of the nation. For it is wisely argued thus, that a kingdom being no more than a larger knot of friends met together, it is against the rules of good manners to shut any person out of the company, except the Papists; who profess themselves of another club. I am at a loss to know what arts the Presbyterian sect intends to use, in convincing the world of their loyalty to kingly government; which long before the prevalence, or even the birth of their independent rivals, as soon as the King's forces were overcome, declared their principles to be against monarchy, as well as Episcopacy and the House of Lords, even till the King was restored: At which event, although they were forced to submit to the present power, yet I have not heard that they did ever, to this day, renounce any one principle by which their predecessors then acted; yet this they have been challenged to do, or at least to shew that others have done it for them, by a certain doctor,[13] who, as I am told, has much employed his pen in the like disputes. I own, they will be ready enough to insinuate themselves into any government: But, if they mean to be honest and upright, they will and must endeavour by all means, which they shall think lawful, to introduce and establish their own scheme of religion, as nearest approaching to the word of God, by casting out all superstitious ceremonies, ecclesiastical titles, habits, distinctions, and superiorities, as rags of Popery; in order to a thorough reformation; and, as in charity bound, to promote the salvation of their countrymen: wishing with St. Paul, that the whole kingdom were as they are. But what assurance will they please to give, that when their sect shall become the national established worship, they will treat Us Dissenters as we have treated them? Was this their course of proceeding during the dominion of the saints? Were not all the remainders of the Episcopal Church in those days, especially the clergy, under a persecution for above a dozen years, equal to that of the primitive Christians under heathen emperors? That this proceeding was suitable to their principles, is known enough; for many of their preachers then writ books expressly against allowing any liberty of conscience, in a religion different from their own; producing many arguments to prove that opinion; and among the rest one frequently insisted on; that allowing such a liberty would be to establish iniquity by a law: Many of these writings are yet to be seen;[14] and I hear, have been quoted by the doctor above mentioned. [Footnote 13: Dr. Tisdal, in a tract entitled, "The Case of the Sacramental Test stated and argued." Tisdal died 4th June, 1736. [T.S.]] [Footnote 14: See many hundred quotations to prove this, in the treatise called "Scotch Presbyterian Eloquence." [Note in Faulkner's edition, 1738.]] As to their great objection of prostituting that holy institution, the blessed Sacrament, by way of a test before admittance into any employment; I ask, whether they would not be content to receive it after their own manner, for the office of a judge, for that of a commissioner in the revenue, for a regiment of horse, or to be a lord justice? I believe they would scruple it as little, as a long grace before and after dinner; which they can say without bending a knee; for, as I have been told, their manner of taking bread and wine in their conventicles, is performed with little more solemnity than at their common meals. And, therefore, since they look upon our practice in receiving the elements, to be idolatrous; they neither can, nor ought, in conscience, to allow us that liberty, otherwise than by connivance, and a bare toleration, like what is permitted to the Papists. But, lest we should offend them, I am ready to change this test for another; although, I am afraid, that sanctified reason is, by no means, the point where the difficulty pinches; and only offered by pretended churchmen, as if they could be content with our believing, that the impiety and profanation of making the Sacrament a test, were the only objection. I therefore propose, that before the present law be repealed, another may be enacted; that no man shall receive any employment, before he swears himself to be a true member of the Church of Ireland, in doctrine and discipline, &c., and, that he will never frequent, or communicate with any other form of worship. It shall likewise be further enacted, that whoever offends, &c., shall be fined five hundred pounds, imprisoned for a year and a day, and rendered incapable of all public trust for ever. Otherwise, I do insist that those pious, indulgent, external professors of our national religion, shall either give up that fallacious hypocritical reason for taking off the Test; or freely confess, that they desire to have a gate wide open for every sect, without any test at all, except that of swearing loyalty to the King: Which, however, considering their principles, with regard to monarchy yet unrenounced, might, if they would please to look deep enough into their own hearts, prove a more bitter test than any other that the law hath yet invented. For, from the first time that these sectaries appeared in the world, it hath been always found, by their whole proceeding, that they professed an utter hatred to kingly government. I can recollect, at present, three civil establishments, where Calvinists, and some other reformers who rejected Episcopacy, possess the supreme power; and, these are all republics; I mean Holland, Geneva, and the reformed Swiss cantons. I do not say this in diminution, or disgrace to commonwealths; wherein, I confess, I have much altered many opinions under which I was educated, having been led by some observation, long experience, and a thorough detestation for the corruptions of mankind: Insomuch, that I am now justly liable to the censure of Hobbes, who complains, that the youth of England imbibe ill opinions, from reading the histories of Ancient Greece and Rome, those renowned scenes of liberty and every virtue. But, as to monarchs; who must be supposed well to study and understand their own interest; they will best consider, whether those people, who in all their actions, preachings, and writings, have openly declared themselves against regal power, are to be safely placed in an equal degree of favour and trust with those who have been always found the true and only friends to the English establishment. From which consideration, I could have added one more article to my new test, if I had thought it worth my time. I have been assured by some persons who were present, that several of these dissenting teachers, upon their first arrival hither to solicit the repeal of the Test, were pleased to express their gratitude, by publicly drinking the healths of certain eminent patrons, whom they pretend to have found among us; if this be true, and that the Test must be delivered up by the very commanders appointed to defend it, the affair is already, in effect, at an end. What secret reasons those patrons may have given for such a return of brotherly love, I shall not inquire: "For, O my soul come not thou into their secret, unto their assembly mine honour be not thou united. For in their anger they slew a man, and in their self-will they digged down a wall. Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce, and their wrath, for it was cruel; I will divide them in Jacob, and scatter them in Israel." ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** A NARRATIVE OF THE SEVERAL ATTEMPTS, WHICH THE DISSENTERS OF IRELAND HAVE MADE, FOR A REPEAL OF THE SACRAMENTAL TEST. NOTE. This tract occupies Nos. iii. and iv. of a periodical paper called "The Correspondent," originally printed at Dublin "by James Hoey in Skinner-Row, 1733." The text here given is that of the original "Correspondent"; that given by Scott and Nichols is evidently taken from the London reprint. It will be seen that the matter as it was originally printed contains much more than was afterwards reprinted. I have indicated in footnotes where Scott's omissions occur. The title of the periodical runs: "The Correspondent, No. iii. [No. iv.] Humbly inscribed to the Conforming Nobility and Gentry of Ireland." Nos. i. and ii. dealt with "Old and New Light Presbyterians"; but these are not by Swift. In Nichols's edition this pamphlet appears in the second volume of the "Supplement to Dr. Swift's Works," 1779, p. 307. See note to the previous pamphlet, where the question of the date of the first publication of this tract is discussed. It may be, as Monck Mason suggests ("History of St. Patrick's," p. 389, note h), that a separate and second edition of this "Narrative" was likewise printed, of the same size as "The Presbyterians' Plea," and bound up, occasionally with that pamphlet; but such an edition I have never seen. The only reprint of the time examined, is that by A. Dodd, of Temple Bar, affixed to the second London edition of "The Presbyterians' Plea of Merit," and the date of which may be put down to 1734. [T.S.] A NARRATIVE OF THE SEVERAL ATTEMPTS, WHICH THE DISSENTERS OF IRELAND HAVE MADE, FOR A REPEAL OF THE SACRAMENTAL TEST. My intention is in this and some following "Correspondents," to vindicate the Test Act, from the insolent aspersions which are thrown upon it, and to answer objections, which are raised against it, particularly by an anonymous author, in a paper entitled, "The Nature and Consequence of the Sacramental Test considered," &c., printed _anno_ 1731, upon the opening of the last session of parliament, and now republished. As a proper introduction to this, I must take leave to put the conformists in mind, of what (upon recollection) they may very well remember, and which in some measure they have been formerly apprised of, and that is in[1] a narrative of the several attempts, which the Dissenters of Ireland have made, for a repeal of the Sacramental Test. When the oath of supremacy was repealed which had been the Church's great security since the second of Queen Elizabeth, against both Papists and Presbyterians, who equally refused it, I presume it is no secret now to tell the reader, that the repeal of that oath opened a sluice and let in such a current of dissenters into some of our corporations, as bore down all before them. [Footnote 1: From the beginning of this paragraph to the word "in" is omitted in the editions issued by Scott and Nichols. The words "A Narrative... Sacramental Test" are used by Scott as part of the sub-title of the tract; but he adds the date, 1731. This is a mistake, since "The Correspondent" appeared in 1733; and if it did appear in the second edition of "The Plea," that edition was published either in the same or in the following year. [T.S.]] Although the Sacramental Test had been for a considerable time in force in England, yet that law did not reach Ireland, where the Church was more oppressed by dissenters; and where her most sanguine friends were glad to compound, to preserve what legal security she had left, rather than to attempt any new, or even to recover what she had lost: And in truth they had no reason to expect it, at a time when the dissenters had the interest to have a motion made and debated in parliament, that there might be a temporary repeal of all the penal laws against them, and when they were so flushed with the conquest they had made in some corporations, as to reject all overtures of a toleration; and to that end, had employed Mr. Boyse[2] to write against it with the utmost contempt, calling it "a stone instead of bread; a serpent instead of a fish." [Footnote 2: In his note Scott calls him "Samuel" Boyse, but he is distinctly mentioned further on in the tract as "Jo: Boyse." The Rev. Joseph Boyse was a native of Leeds, who had settled in Dublin in 1683 as joint-pastor with Dr. Daniel Williams. He died in poverty in 1728; and in the same year his works were published in two folio volumes. His son, Samuel Boyse, the poet, died in 1749. [T.S.]] When the Church was in this situation, the clause of the Sacramental Test was happily sent over from England, tacked to the Popery Bill, which alarmed the whole body of the dissenters to that degree, that their managers began to ply with the greatest artifice, and industry, to prevent its passing into a law. But (to the honour of that parliament be it spoken), the whole body of both Lords and Commons (some few excepted) passed the clause with great readiness, and defended it afterwards with as great resolution. The immediate consequence of this law was the recovery of several corporations, which the conformists had given to the dissenters, and the preservation of others, to which the "enterprising people" had made very bold and quick approaches. It was hoped that this signal defeat would have discouraged the dissenters from any further attempts against a law, which had so unanimously passed both houses: But the contrary soon appeared. For, upon meeting of the Parliament, held by the Earl of Pembroke,[3] they quickly reassumed their wonted courage and confidence, and made no doubt, but they should either procure an absolute repeal thereof, or get it so far relaxed, as that they might be admitted to offices of military trust: To this, they apprehended themselves encouraged by a paragraph in his Excellency's speech to both Houses (which they applied to themselves) which was, "That the Queen would be glad of any expedient, for strengthening the interests of her Protestant subjects of Ireland." [Footnote 3: It will be remembered that the earl's viceroyalty commenced April 7th, 1707. It was in his train that Swift came to England in that year.[T.S.]] The advocates for the dissenters immediately took hold of this handle, and in order to prepare the way for this expedient, insisted boldly upon their merit and loyalty, charged the Church with persecution, and extolled their signal behaviour in the late Revolution, to that degree, as if by their signal prowess, they had saved the nation. But all this, was only to prepare the way for the grand engine, which was forming to beat down this law; and that was their expedient addresses. The first of this kind was, from a provincial synod of the northern dissenters, beginning with high encomiums upon themselves, and as high demands from the public, "for their untainted loyalty in all turns of government," which they said, was "the natural consequence of their known principles"; expressions, which, had they been applied to them by their adversaries, must have been understood as spoken ironically, and indeed to have been the greatest sarcasm imaginable upon them; especially, when we consider the insolent treatment given to her Majesty in the very same address; for immediately after they pass this compliment upon themselves, they tell her Majesty, they deeply regret the Sacramental Test; and frankly declared, that neither the gentlemen, nor people of their persuasion, could (they must mean _would_) serve her, whatever exigencies might arise, unless that law was repealed. The managers for the kirk, following this precedent, endeavoured to obtain addresses to the same purpose from the corporations, and though they proved unsuccessful in most, they procured them from several of our most considerable conforming corporations; and that too at a critical juncture, when numbers of Scotch Presbyterians, who had deserved well in the affair of the Union, and could not be rewarded in England (where the Test Act was in force) stood ready to overrun our preferments as soon as the Test should be repealed in Ireland. But after all when it came to a decisive trial in the House of Commons, the dissenters were defeated. When the managers found the House of Commons could not be brought into that scheme of an expedient, to be offered by them; their refinement upon this, was, to move for an address, "That the House would accept of an expedient from her Majesty," but this also was rejected; for by this project, the managers would have led the Queen into this dilemma, either to disoblige the whole body of the dissenters, by refusing to name the expedient, or else to give up the conformists to the insults and encroachments of the dissenters, by the repeal of that law, which was declared by the House of Lords, to be the great security of the Established Church, and of the English interest of Ireland. The next attempt they made against the Test was during the government of Lord Wharton.[4] [Footnote 4: Wharton was appointed Lord Lieutenant on November 25th, 1708. This Wharton is the Thomas, Lord Wharton, against whom Swift wrote one of his bitterest and most personal attacks. He was the eldest son of Philip, Lord Wharton, and was created a marquis by George I. He died April 12th, 1715. The ballad of "Lillibullero" is attributed to him. [T.S.]] The dissenters seemed more resolute now than ever, to have the Test repealed, especially when his Excellency had declared from the throne, "that they were neither to be persecuted nor molested." For they who had all along called the Test Act a persecution, might reasonably conclude that grievance would be removed; when they were told by the chief governor, that they were not to be even "molested." But to their great confusion, they were soon undeceived, when they found upon trial, that the House of Commons, would not bear the least motion towards it. Their movements to repeal the Test Act being stopped this way; the managers were obliged to take several other ways to come at it: And at the time, that some pretended to soothe, others seemed to threaten even the legislature, with a view, (as must be presumed) that those, whom they could not cajole, might be frightened into it.[5] [Footnote 5: Scott omits the words from "with a view" to the end of the paragraph. [T.S.]] There happened about the time, when the project of the expedient was on foot, an excellent occasion, to express their resentments against this law, and that was, when great numbers of them refused the oath of allegiance, and to oppose the Pretender; insisting upon a repeal of the Test Act, as the condition of their arming in defence of their Queen and country. The government was not reduced to such straits, as to submit to that condition; and the Test stood firm, in spite of both the dissenters and the Pretender, until the latter was driven from our coasts: And then, one would have thought the hopes of the former, would have vanished with him. But it proved quite contrary: For those sons of the earth, rebounding with fresh vigour from their falls, recovered new strength and spirit from every defeat, and the next attempt was bolder (considering the circumstances they were in) than any they had made before. The case was this: The House of Lords of Ireland had accused them to the Queen of several illegal practices, which highly concerned the safety of our constitution, both in church and state: The particulars of which charge, were summed up in a representation from the Lords to this effect: "That they (the dissenters) had opposed and persecuted the conformists, in those parts where their power prevailed, had invaded their congregations, propagated their schism in places where it had not the least footing formerly; that they were protected from a legal prosecution by a _noli prosequi_ in the case of Drogheda." "That they refused to take conforming apprentices, and confined trade among themselves, exclusive of the conformists." "That in their illegal assemblies they had prosecuted and censured their people for being married according to law." "That they have thrown public and scandalous reflections upon the Episcopal order, and upon our laws, particularly the Sacramental Test, and had misapplied the royal bounty of £1,200 _per annum_, in propagating their schism, and undermining the Church: And had exercised an illegal jurisdiction in their Presbyteries and Synods," &c. To this representation of the Lords, the dissenters remonstrate in an address to the Queen, or rather an appeal to their own people, in which, although it is evident, they were conscious of those crimes whereof they stood accused, as appears by the evasions they make to this high charge. Yet even under these circumstances (such was their modesty) they pressed for a repeal of the Test Act, by the modest appellation of a grievance and odious mark of infamy, &c. Of which more hereafter. There is one particular in another address which I cannot omit. The House of Lords in their representation, had accused one dissenting teacher in particular (well known to Mr. Boyse). The charge was in these words: "Nor has the legislature itself escaped the censure of a bold author of theirs, who has published in print, that the Sacramental Test is only an engine to advance a state faction, and to debase religion, to serve base and unworthy purposes." To this, Mr. Boyse answers, in an address to the Queen, in the year 1712, subscribed only by himself, and five more dissenting teachers, in these words. "As to this part of their Lordships' complaint, we beg leave to lay before your Majesty the words of that author, which are these. "'Nor can we altogether excuse those, who turn the holy Eucharist into an engine, to advance a state faction, and endeavour to confine the communion table of our Lord, by their arbitrary enclosures to a party; religion is thereby debased to serve mean and unworthy purposes.' We humbly conceive that the author in that passage, makes no mention of the legislature at all, &c., and we cannot omit on this occasion, to regret it, as the great unhappiness of this kingdom, that dissenters should now be disabled from concurring in the defence of it, in any future exigency and danger, and should have the same infamy put upon them with the Irish Papists. "We therefore humbly hope, that your Majesty shall consider, how little real grounds there are for those complaints made by their Lordships." What a mixture of impudence and prevarication is this! That one dissenting teacher accused to his prince of having censured the legislature, should presume, backed only by five more of the same quality and profession, to transcribe the guilty paragraph, and (to secure his meaning from all possibility of being mistaken,) annex another to it; wherein, they rail at that very law, for which he in so audacious a manner censured the Queen and Parliament, and at the same time should expect to be acquitted by her Majesty, because he had not mentioned the word "legislature": 'Tis true the word legislature is not expressed in that paragraph; but let Mr. Boyse[6] say, what other power but the legislature, could in this sense, "turn the holy Eucharist into an engine to advance a state faction, or confine offices of trust, or the communion table of our Lord, by their arbitrary enclosures, to a party." It is plain he can from his principles intend no others, but the legislators of the Sacramental Test; though at the same time I freely own, that this is a vile description of them: For neither have they by this law, made the Sacramental Test an engine to advance, but rather to depress a state faction, nor have they made any arbitrary enclosures, of the communion table of our Lord, since as many as please, may receive the Sacrament with us in our churches; and those who will not, may freely, as before, receive it in their separate congregations: Nor in the last place, is religion hereby debased, to serve mean and unworthy purposes; nor is it any more than all lawgivers do, by enjoining an oath of allegiance, and making that a religious test. For an oath is an act of religious worship as well as the Eucharist. [Footnote 6: Scott remarks that "Mr. Boyse is here and in other places, spoken of as alive, which was the case, I presume, when the tract first appeared in 'The Correspondent.'" The tract, however, was printed in the periodical in 1733, and Boyse died in 1728. It may be that when Swift first wrote "The Narrative," Mr. Boyse was alive; in that case its date must be put down to an earlier year than either 1733 or even 1731. Or it may be that the style of so referring to Boyse was used for an argumentative effect, to appeal to any reader who was in sympathy with Boyse's opinions. [T.S.]] Upon the whole, is not this an instance of prodigious boldness in Mr. Boyse, backed with only five dissenting teachers, thus to recriminate upon the Irish House of Lords (as they were pleased to call them in the title of their printed address,) and almost to insist with her Majesty, upon the repeal of a law, which she had stamped with her royal authority, but a few years before? The[7] next instance, of the resolution of the dissenters, against this law, was the attempt made during the government of the Duke of Shrewsbury.[8] [Footnote 7: From this paragraph to the end is taken from "The Correspondent," No. iv. The text as given by Scott is considerably altered from that which appeared in the periodical. [T.S.]] [Footnote 8: From September, 1713, until the Queen's death in 1714. [T.S.]] This attack was by the whole compacted body, of their teachers and elders, with a formidable engine, called a "representation of grievances," in which, after they had reviled the Test Act, with the same odious appellations, and insisted upon the same insolent arguments, for the repeal thereof, which they had formerly urged to the Queen: They expressed themselves to his Grace in these words: "We beg leave to say, that those persons must be inexcusable, and chargeable, with all the bad consequences that may follow, who in such a kingdom as this, disable, disgrace, and divide Protestants; a thing that ought not to be done at any time, or in any place, much less than in this," &c. Is it possible to conceive any thing more provoking than this humble supplication of these remonstrators? Does not this sound like a demand of the repeal of the Test, at the peril of those, who dare refuse it? Is it not an application with a hat in one hand, and a sword in the other, and that too, in the style of a King of Ulster, to a King of Connaught, --"Repeal the Test, or if you don't........." But to proceed in this narrative: Notwithstanding the defeat of the dissenters in England, in their late attempt against the Test, their brethren in Ireland, are so far from being discouraged, that they seem now to conceive greater hopes of having it repealed here, than ever.[9] What grounds they have for these hopes, was a secret to us, and I presume, to themselves; however private whispers begin now to grow into general rumours, and their managers proceed with great art and assiduity, from feeling of pulses, to telling of noses. [Footnote 9: From this word to the end of this paragraph is omitted by Scott.[T.S.]] In order to prepare necessaries, and furnish topics for this attempt, there was a paper printed upon the opening of last session, and now republished; entitled, "The Nature and Consequences of the Sacramental Test considered, with reasons humbly offered for the Repeal thereof."[10] [Footnote 10: This pamphlet was reprinted in London in 1732. See note prefixed to "The Presbyterians' Plea of Merit" [T.S.]] It is not my intention, to follow this author, through all the mazes and windings of his reasoning upon this subject, which (in truth) seem such incoherent shreds, that it is impossible to tie them together; and therefore, what I purpose is, to answer such objections to the Test, as are advanced either by this author, or any other which have any appearance of reason, or plausibility. I know it is not prudent to despise an adversary, nor fair to prepossess readers, before I show this bold and insolent writer, in his proper figure and dress; and therefore, however I may take him to be a feeble advocate for the repeal of the Test, in point of reasoning, yet I freely allow him to be a most resolute champion in point of courage, who has, with such intrepidity, attacked, not only the first enactors of this law, but all such, who shall continue it, by giving their negatives to a repeal. I will in this "Correspondent" only transcribe a few quotations from this author, to shew the gallantry of this aggressor. Page the 19th[11] he says: "the truth is the imposition of the Test, and continuing it in such a state of the kingdom, appears (at first sight,) so great an absurdity in politics, as can never be accounted for." [Footnote 11: Page 23 in edition London, 1732. [T.S.]] Who are these absurd politicians? Who first passed, and secondly continue the Sacramental Test, in all the preceding attempts of the Dissenters to repeal it? Are they not the majority of both Houses of Parliament?[12] [Footnote 12: Omitted by Scott in his edition, 1824. [T.S.]] But to strengthen his reflections, page 26,[13] he gives the whole legislature to understand, that continuing the Test, does not become the wisdom, and justice of the legislature, under the pretence of its being for the advantage of the state, when it is really prejudicial to it; and further tells us, it infringes on the indisputable rights of the dissenters. [Footnote 13: Pp. 32-33 in London reprint. Scott places passages here in quotation marks, the original in "The Correspondent" has no such marks, nor are the passages quoted verbatim from the pamphlet referred to.[T.S.]] Page, the 57th,[14] he says, "The gentlemen of the House of Commons, who framed the bill, to prevent the farther growth of Popery, instead of approving the Test clause which was inserted, publicly declared their dislike to it, and their resolution to take the first opportunity of repealing it, though at that time they unwillingly passed it, rather than lose a bill they were so fond of. This resolution has not been as yet fulfilled, for what reasons, our worthy patriots themselves know best." [Footnote 14: P. 71 in London reprint [T.S.]] I should be glad this author would inform us, who, and how many of those members joined in this resolution, to repeal the Test; or where that resolution is to be found, which he mentions twice in the same paragraph; surely not in the books of the House of Commons! If not, suppose some few gentlemen in the House of Commons, and to be sure very few they were, who publicly declared their dislike to it, or entered into any resolution; this, I think, he should have explained, and not insinuated so gross a reflection on a great majority of the House of Commons, who first passed this law, and have ever since opposed all attempts to repeal it; these are the gentleman whom, in sarcasm and irony, he is pleased to call the "worthy," that is, the unworthy patriots themselves. But to mention no more, he concludes his notable piece, with these remarkable words, pages 62-63.[15] [Footnote 15: P. 79 of London reprint. [T.S.]] "Thus it appears, with regard to the Protestant succession, which has now happily taken place, how reasonable it is to repeal the Sacramental Test, and that granting that favour to the Dissenters," which, by the way, cannot be granted but by parliament; "can be disagreeable to none, who have a just sense of the many blessings we enjoy, by the Protestant succession, in his Majesty's royal family." I will not trouble the reader with any more quotations, to the same purpose, out of this libel, for so I must now call it, but take leave to make some general observations on those paragraphs I have mentioned. [Footnote: This paragraph is omitted by Scott. [T.S.]] I conceive, it will be readily allowed, that in all applications, either from any body of men, or from any particular subject to the legislature, or any branch thereof, we are to take the highest encomiums as purely complimental; if there be the least insinuation of disrespect or reflection therein, in such cases I say, you are to take the compliments in the lowest sense, but all the reflections in the highest sense the expressions can bear; inasmuch as, the first may be presumed matter of form, the latter must be matter of resentment. [Footnote: This paragraph is much curtailed by Scott, who combines it with the next paragraph of the present text. [T.S.]] Now, if we apply this observation, to what this bold adventurer has said, with respect to the legislators, of the Sacramental Test; Does he not directly and plainly charge them with injustice, imprudence, gross absurdity and Jacobitism? Let the most prejudiced reader that is not pre-determined against conviction, say, whether this libeller of the parliament, has not drawn up a high charge against the makers and continuers of this law. It is readily allowed, that this has been the old style of these champions, who have attacked the Test, as in the instances before mentioned, with this difference, that he descends lower in his charge, and has been more particular than any of his brethren. [Footnote: This paragraph is omitted by Scott. [T.S.]] Notwithstanding my resentment, which to be sure, he does not value, I would be sorry he should bring upon himself the resentment of those he has been so free with, and I cannot help advising him, to take all possible care, and use all effectual means, to conjure the printer, corrector, and publisher of this libel to secrecy; that however the author may be suspected, he may not be discovered. Upon the whole, is not this author, justly to be reputed a defamer, till he produces instances wherein the conforming nobility and gentry of Ireland, have shown their disaffection to the succession of the illustrious House of Hanover? Did they ever refuse the oath of abjuration, or support any conforming nonjuring teachers in their congregations? Did ever any conforming gentlemen, or common people, refuse to be arrayed, when the militia was raised, upon the invasion of the Pretender? Did any of them ever shew the least reluctance, or make any exception against their officers, whether they were Dissenters or Churchmen? It may be said, that from these insinuations, I would have it understood, that the dissenters encouraged some of their teachers, who refused the oath of abjuration; and that even in the article of danger, when the Pretender made his attempt in Scotland, our northern Presbyterians shewed great reluctance in taking arms, upon the array of militia. I freely own it is my intention; and I must affirm both facts to be true, however they have the assurance to deny it. What can be more notorious, than the protection, countenance, and support, which was continued to Riddall, McBride, and McCrackan,[16] who absolutely refused the oath of abjuration; and yet were continued to teach in their congregations, after they returned from Scotland, when a prosecution was directed, and a council in criminal causes, was sent down to the county of Antrim to prosecute them. [Footnote 16: Riddall, McBride, and McCrackan were three Presbyterian clergymen who refused to take the oath of abjuring the Pretender. Of Riddall and McCrackan little is known; but John McBride (1651?-1718) (according to the writer in the "Dictionary of National Biography") was born in Ulster, and graduated at Glasgow. He was a strong advocate of the Hanoverian succession, but avoided the oath of abjuration, in 1703, by retiring to Glasgow. He returned to Belfast in 1713, and died there. His humorous excuse for non-abjuration is recorded by the writer of the article in the Dictionary, and is worth repeating: "Once upon a time there was a bearn, that cou'd not be persuaded to bann the de'el because he did not know but he might soon come into his clutches." [T.S.]] With respect to the parliament; did ever any House of Commons shew greater alacrity in raising money, and equipping ships, in defence of the King, than the last House did upon the expected invasion of the Pretender? And did ever any parliament give money with greater unanimity, for the support of the Crown, than the present has done, whatever the wants of their private families might be? And must a very great majority of those persons, be branded with the infamous aspersion of disaffection to the illustrious House of Hanover, should they refuse to give their voices for the repeal of the Test? I am fully persuaded that this author, and his fellow-labourers, do not believe one word of this heavy charge; but their present circumstances are such, that they must run all hazards. In many places their congregations are sub-divided, and have chosen an _Old_ and _New Light_ teacher, and consequently those stipends must support two, which were enjoyed by one before.[17] [Footnote 17: This paragraph is omitted by Scott. [T.S.]] A great number of the nonconforming gentlemen daily leave them, though they have not made any convert to their persuasion, among the conforming gentlemen of fortune; many who were nonconformists themselves, and many men whose parents were elders, or rigid nonconformists, are now constant communicants, and justices of peace in their several counties; insomuch, that it is highly probable, should the Test continue twenty years longer, there would not be a gentleman left to solicit a repeal. I shall hereafter take occasion to shew, how inconsiderable they are, for their numbers and fortunes, who can be served or obliged by this repeal, which number is daily lessening. The dissenting teachers are sufficiently aware, that the general conformity of the gentlemen, will be followed, by the conformity of numbers of the people; and should it not be so, that they will be but poorly supported by them; that by the continuance of the Test, "their craft will be in danger to be set at nought," and in all probability, will end in a general conformity of the Presbyterians to the Established Church. So that, they have the strongest reasons in the world, to press for the repeal of the Test; but those reasons, must have equal force for the continuance of it, with all that wish the peace of the Church and State, and would not have us torn in pieces, with endless and causeless divisions. There is one short passage more, I had like to have omitted, which our author leaves as a sting in the tail of his libel; his words are these, page 59th.[18] [Footnote 18: P. 74 in London reprint. [T.S.]] "The truth is, no one party of a religious denomination, in Britain or Ireland, were so united, as they, (the dissenters) indeed, no one, but they, in an inviolable attachment to the Protestant succession." To detect the folly of this assertion, I subjoin the following letter from a person of known integrity, and inviolably attached to the Protestant succession, as any dissenter in the kingdom, I mean Mr. Warreng of Warrengstown, then a member of parliament, and commissioner of array, in the county of Down, upon the expected invasion of the Pretender. This letter was writ in a short time after the array, of the militia, for the truth of which I refer to Mr. Warreng himself. "Sir, "That I may fulfil your desire, by giving you an account, how the dissenters in my neighbourhood behaved themselves, when we were threatened with an invasion of the Pretender. Be pleased to know, that upon an alarm given of his being landed near Derry, none were more zealous and ready in setting watch and keeping guard, than they, to prevent such disorders, as might happen at that time, by ill-designing persons, passing through, and disturbing the peace of the country. "But when the government thought fit, to have the kingdom arrayed, and sent commissioners into these parts, some time after it appeared, that the dissenters had, by that time, been otherwise instructed, for several who were so forward before, behaved themselves after a very different manner, some refusing, and others with reluctancy, appearing upon the array, to be enlisted, and serve in the militia. "This behaviour surprised me so much, that I took occasion to discourse several of them, over whom, I thought I had as much influence, as any other person, and found them upon the common argument, of having their hands tied up by a late act of parliament, &c. _Whereupon I took some pains to shew the act to them, and wherein they were mistaken._ I further pressed their concurrence with us, in procuring the common peace and security of our country, and though they seemed convinced by what I said, yet I was given to understand, their behaviour was according to the sentiments of some persons, whom they thought themselves obliged to observe, or be directed by, &c." ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** QUAERIES WROTE BY DR. J. SWIFT, IN THE YEAR 1732. [RELATING TO THE SACRAMENTAL TEST.] Very proper to be read (at this Time) by every Member of the Established Church. NOTE. The text of this tract is based on that of the original broadside, collated with those given by Faulkner and Scott. In 1733 was also published a broadside with the title: "Queries upon the Demand of the Presbyterians to have the Sacramental Test repealed at this Session of Parliament." These queries seem to be based on those by Swift, though they are not quite the same. [T.S.] QUAERIES WROTE BY DR. J. SWIFT, IN THE YEAR 1732. _QUERY_. Whether hatred and violence between parties in a state be not more inflamed by different views of interest, than by the greater or lesser differences between them, either in religion or government? Whether it be any part of the question, at this time, which of the two religions is worse, Popery, or Fanaticism; or not rather, which of the two, (having both the same good will) is in the hopefullest condition to ruin the Church? Whether the sectaries, whenever they come to prevail, will not ruin the Church as infallibly and effectually as the Papists? Whether the prevailing sectaries could allow liberty of conscience to Dissenters, without belying all their former practice, and almost all their former writings? Whether many hundred thousand Scotch Presbyterians, are not full as virulent against the Episcopal Church, as they are against the Papists; or, as they would have us think, the Papists are against them? Whether the Dutch, who are most distinguished for allowing liberty of conscience, do ever admit any persons, who profess a different scheme of worship from their own, into civil employments; although they _may_ be forced by the nature of their government, to receive mercenary troops of all religions? Whether the Dissenters ever pretended, until of late years, to desire more than a bare toleration? Whether, if it be true, what a sorry pamphleteer asserts, who lately writ for repealing the Test, that the Dissenters in this kingdom are equally numerous with the Churchmen: It would not be a necessary point of prudence, by all proper and lawful means to prevent their further increase? The great argument given by those whom they call _Low_ Church men, to justify the large tolerations allowed to Dissenters, hath been; that by such indulgencies, the rancour of those sectaries would gradually wear off, many of them would come over to us, and their parties, in a little time, crumble to nothing. _QUERY_. If what the above pamphleteer asserts, that the sectaries, are in equal numbers with conformists, it doth not clearly follow, that those repeated tolerations, have operated directly contrary to what those _Low_ Church politicians pretended to foresee and expect. Whether any clergyman, however dignified or distinguished, if he think his own profession most agreeable to Holy Scriptures, and the primitive Church, can really wish in his heart, that all sectaries should be upon an equal foot with the Churchmen, in the point of civil power and employments? Whether Episcopacy, which is held by the Church to be a divine and apostolic institution, be not a fundamental point of religion, particularly in that essential one of conferring holy orders? Whether, by necessary consequences, the several expedients among the sectaries to constitute their teachers, are not absolutely null and void? Whether the sectaries will ever agree to accept ordination only from bishops? Whether the bishops and clergy will be content to give up Episcopacy, as a point indifferent, without which the Church can well subsist? Whether that great tenderness towards sectaries, which now so much prevails, be chiefly owing to the fears of Popery, or to that spirit of atheism, deism, scepticism, and universal immorality, which all good men so much lament? Granting Popery to have many more errors in religion than any one branch of the sectaries; let us examine the actions of both, as they have each affected the peace of these kingdoms, with allowance for the short time which the sectaries had to act in, who are in a manner _but of yesterday_. The Papists in the time of King James II. used all endeavours to establish their superstition; wherein they failed, by the united power of English Church protestants, with the Prince of Orange's assistance. But it cannot be asserted, that these bigotted Papists had the least design to depose or murder their King, much less to abolish kingly government; nor was it their interest or inclination to attempt either. On the other side the Puritans, who had almost from the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's reign, been a perpetual thorn in the Church's side, joining with the Scotch enthusiasts, in the time of King Charles the First, were the principal cause of the Irish rebellion and massacre, by distressing that Prince, and making it impossible for him to send over timely succours. And, after that pious Prince had satisfied his Parliament in every single point to be complained of; the same sectaries by poisoning the minds and affections of the people, with the most false and wicked representations of their King, were able, in the compass of a few years, to embroil the three nations in a bloody rebellion, at the expense of many thousand lives; to turn the kingly power into anarchy; or murder their Prince in the face of the world, and (in their own style) to destroy the Church _root and branch_. The account therefore stands thus. The Papists aimed at one pernicious act, which was to destroy the Protestant religion; wherein, by God's mercy, and the assistance of our glorious King William, they absolutely failed. The sectaries attempted the three most infernal actions, that could possibly enter into the hearts of men, forsaken by God; which were, the murder of a most pious King, the destruction of our monarchy, and the extirpation of the Church; and succeeded in them all. Upon which, I put the following queries. Whether any of those sectaries have ever yet in a solemn public manner, renounced any one of those principles upon which their predecessors then acted? Whether, considering the cruel persecutions of the Episcopal Church, during the course of that horrid rebellion and the consequences of it, until the happy Restoration; is it not manifest, that the persecuting spirit lieth so equally divided between the Papists and the sectaries, that a feather would turn the balance on either side? And, therefore, lastly, Whether any person of common understanding, who professeth himself a member of the Church established, although, perhaps, with little inward regard to any religion (which is too often the case) if he loveth the peace and welfare of his country; can, after cool thinking, rejoice to see a power placed again in the hands of so restless, so ambitious, and so merciless a faction, to act over all the same parts a second time? Whether the candour of that expression, so frequent of late in sermons and pamphlets, of the "strength and number of the Papists in Ireland," can be justified? For as to their number, however great, it is always magnified in proportion to the zeal, or politics, of the speaker and writer; but it is a gross imposition upon common reason, to terrify us with their strength. For Popery, under the circumstances it lieth in this kingdom; although it be offensive, and inconvenient enough, from the consequences it hath to increase the rapine, sloth and ignorance, as well as poverty of the natives; is not properly dangerous in that sense, as some would have us take it; because it is universally hated by every party of a different religious profession. It is the contempt of the wise: The best topic for clamours of designing men: But the real terror only of fools. The landed Popish interest in England, far exceedeth that among us, even in proportion to the wealth and extent of each kingdom. The little that remaineth here, is daily dropping into Protestant hands, by purchase or descent; and that affected complaint of counterfeit converts, will fall with the cause of it in half a generation; unless it be raised or kept alive, as a continual fund of merit and eloquence. The Papists are wholly disarmed. They have neither courage, leaders, money, or inclinations to rebel. They want every advantage which they formerly possessed, to follow that trade; and wherein, even with those advantages, they always miscarried. They appear very easy, and satisfied under that connivance which they enjoyed during the whole last reign; nor ever scrupled to reproach another party, under which they pretend to have suffered so much severity. Upon these considerations I must confess to have suspended much of my pity towards the great dreaders of Popery; many of whom appear to be hale, strong, active young men; who, as I am told, eat, drink, and sleep heartily; and are very cheerful (as they have exceeding good reason) upon all other subjects. However, I cannot too much commend the generous concern, which, our neighbours and others, who come from the same neighbourhood, are so kind to express for us upon this account; although the former be further removed from the dangers of Popery, by twenty leagues of salt water: But this, I fear, is a digression. When an artificial report was raised here many years ago, of an intended invasion by the Pretender, (which blew over after it had done its office) the Dissenters argued in their talk, and in their pamphlets, after this manner, applying themselves to those of the Church. "Gentlemen, if the Pretender had landed, as the law now standeth, we durst not assist you; and therefore, unless you take off the Test, whenever you shall happen to be invaded in earnest, if we are desired to take up arms in your defence, our answer shall be, Pray, gentlemen, fight your own battles,[1] we will lie by quietly; conquer your enemies by yourselves, if you can; we will not do your drudgery." This way of reasoning I have heard from several of their chiefs and abettors, in an hundred conversations; and have read it in twenty pamphlets: And, I am confident, it will be offered again, if the project should fail to take off the Test. [Footnote 1: See note, p. 40, referring to the poem: "The Grunters' request To take off the Test." [T.S.]] Upon which piece of oratory and reasoning I form the following query. Whether, in case of an invasion from the Pretender (which is not quite so probable as from the Grand Signior) the Dissenters can, with prudence and safety, offer the same plea; except they shall have made a previous stipulation with the invaders? And, Whether the full freedom of their religion and trade, their lives, properties, wives and children, are not, and have not always been reckoned sufficient motives for repelling invasions, especially in our sectaries, who call themselves the truest Protestants, by virtue of their pretended or real fierceness against Popery? Whether omitting or neglecting to celebrate the day of the martyrdom of the blessed King Charles the First, enjoined by Act of Parliament, can be justly reckoned a particular and distinguishing mark of good affection to the present government? Whether in those churches, where the said day is observed, it will fully answer the intent of the said Act; if the preacher shall commend, excuse, palliate, or extenuate the murder of that royal Martyr; and lay the guilt of that horrid rebellion, with all its consequences, the following usurpations, the entire destruction of the Church, the cruel and continual persecutions of those who could be discovered to profess its doctrines, with the ensuing Babel of fanaticism, to the account of that blessed King; who, by granting the Petition of Right, and passing every bill that could be asked for the security of the subject, had, by the confession even of those wicked men, before the war began, left them nothing more to demand? Whether such a preacher as I have named, (whereof there have been more than _one_ not many years past, even in the presence of viceroys) who takes that course as a means for promotion; may not be thought to step a little out of the common road, in a monarchy where the descendants of that most blessed Martyr have reigned to this day? I ground the reason of making these queries, on the title of the act; to which I refer the reader. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** THE ADVANTAGES PROPOSED BY REPEALING THE SACRAMENTAL TEST, IMPARTIALLY CONSIDERED. BY THE REV. DR. SWIFT, DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S, Dublin, Printed; London, Re-printed for J. Roberts at the Oxford Arms in Warwick Lane. 1732. (Price Six-pence.) NOTE. The text here given is that of the London reprint of the original edition, which has been collated with that given by Faulkner (vol. iv., 1735). In 1790 the tract was reprinted by J. Walters, and it is evidently from this reprint that Scott obtained his text; for the two agree in almost every particular. [T.S.] THE ADVANTAGES PROPOSED BY REPEALING THE SACRAMENTAL TEST, IMPARTIALLY CONSIDERED. Whoever writes impartially upon this subject, must do it not only as a mere secular man, but as one who is altogether indifferent to any particular system of Christianity. And, I think, in whatever country that religion predominates, there is one certain form of worship and ceremony, which is looked upon as the established, and consequently only the priests of that particular form, are maintained at the public charge, and all civil employments are bestowed among those who comply (at least outwardly) with the same establishment. This method is strictly observed, even by our neighbours the Dutch, who are confessed to allow the fullest liberty to conscience of any Christian state; and yet are never known to admit any persons into religious or civil offices, who do not conform to the legal worship. As to their military men, they are indeed not so scrupulous, being, by the nature of their government, under a necessity of hiring foreign troops of whatever religious denomination, upon every great emergency, and maintaining no small number in time of peace. This caution therefore of making one established faith, seems to be universal, and founded upon the strongest reasons; the mistaken, or affected zeal of obstinacy, and enthusiasm, having produced such a number of horrible, destructive events, throughout all Christendom. For, whoever begins to think the national worship is wrong, in any important article of practice or belief, will, if he be serious, naturally have a zeal to make as many proselytes as he can, and a nation may possibly have an hundred different sects with their leaders; every one of which hath an equal right to plead; they must "obey God rather than man," must "cry aloud and spare not," must "lift up their voice like a trumpet" This was the very case of England, during the fanatic times. And against all this, there seems to be no defence, but that of supporting one established form of doctrine and discipline; leaving the rest to a bare liberty of conscience, but without any maintenance or encouragement from the public. Wherever this national religion grows so corrupt, or is thought to do so by a very great majority of learned[1] people, joined to the governing party, whether prince or senate, or both, it ought to be changed, provided the work might be done without blood or tumults.[2] Yet, whenever such a change shall be made, some other establishment must succeed (although for the worse), allowing all deviations that would break the union to be only tolerated. In this sense, those who affirm, that every law, which is contrary to the law of God, is void in itself, seem to be mistaken. For, many laws in Popish kingdoms and states, many more among the Turks, and perhaps not a few in other countries, are directly against the divine laws; and yet, God knows, are very far from being void in the executive parts. [Footnote 1: Scott has "landed." [T.S.]] [Footnote 2: Scott has "confusion." [T.S.]] Thus, for instance, if the three estates of Parliament in England (whereof the lords spiritual[3] are one) should agree, and obtain the royal assent to abolish Episcopacy, together with the liturgy, and the whole frame of the English church, as "burthensome, dangerous, and contrary to Holy Scripture"; and that Presbytery, Anabaptism, Quakerism, Independency,[4] or any other subdivided sect among us, should be established in its place; without question, all peaceable subjects ought passively to submit, and the predominant sect must become the religion established, the public maintaining no other teachers, nor admitting any persons of a different religious profession, into civil offices; at least, if their intention be to preserve the nation in peace. [Footnote 3: Scott inserts here the words: "who represent the Church." [T.S.]] [Footnote 4: Scott inserts here "Muggletonianism, Brownism, Familism." [T.S.]] Supposing then, that the present system of religion were abolished; and Presbytery, which stands much the fairest, with its synods and classes, and all its forms and ceremonies, essential or circumstantial, were erected into the national worship: Their teachers, and no others, could have any legal claim to be supported at the public charge, whether by stipends or tithes; and only the rest of the same faith to be capable of civil employments. If there be any true reasoning in what I have laid down, it should seem, that the project now in agitation for repealing the Test Act, and yet leaving the name of an establishment to the present national church, is altogether inconsistent, and may admit of consequences, which those, who are the most indifferent to any religion at all, are possibly not aware of. I presume, whenever the Test shall be repealed, which obliges all men, who enter into office under the Crown, to receive the sacrament according to the rites of the Church of Ireland, the way to employments will immediately be left open to all dissenters, (except Papists) whose consciences can suffer them to take the common oaths in such cases prescribed, after which they are qualified to fill any lay station in this kingdom, from that of chief governor, to an exciseman. Thus of the three judges on each bench, the first may be a Presbyterian, the second a Free-will Baptist, and the third a Churchman; the Lord Chancellor may be an Independent; the revenues may be managed by seven commissioners of as many different sects; and the like of all other employments. Not to mention the strong probability, that the lawfulness of taking oaths may be _revealed_ to the Quakers, who then will stand upon as good a foot for preferment, as any other loyal subject. It is easy[5] to imagine, under such a motley administration of affairs, what a clashing there will be of interests and inclinations, what puttings and haulings backwards and forwards, what a zeal and bias in each religionist, to advance his own tribe, and depress the others. For, I suppose nothing will be readier granted, than that how indifferent soever most men are in faith and morals, yet whether out of artifice, natural complexion, or love of contradiction, none are more obstinate in maintaining their own opinions, and worrying all who differ from them, than those who publicly shew the least sense, either of religion or common honesty. [Footnote 5: Scott has "obvious." [T.S.]] As to the latter, Bishop Burnet tells us, that the Presbyterians, in the fanatic times, professed themselves to be above morality; which, as we find in some of their writings, was numbered among the "beggarly elements"; and accordingly at this day, no scruples of conscience with regard to conformity, are in any trade or calling, inconsistent with the greatest fraud, oppression, perjury, or any other vice. This brings to my memory a passage in Montaigne, of a common prostitute, who, in the storming of a town, when a soldier came up to her chamber, and offered violence to her chastity, rather chose to venture her neck, by leaping out of the window, than suffer a rape; yet still continued her trade of lewdness, whilst she had any customers left.[6] [Footnote 6: The passage referred to by Swift is to be found in the first chapter of the second book of Florio's translation of Montaigne's "Essays"--"Of the Inconstancie of our Actions." [T.S.]] I confess, that in my private judgment, an unlimited permission of all sects whatsoever (except Papists) to enjoy employments, would be less pernicious to the public, than a fair struggle between two contenders; because in the former case, such a jumble of principles, might possibly have the effect of contrary poisons mingled together, which a strong constitution might perhaps be able for some time to survive. But however, I shall take the other, and more probable supposition, that this battle for employments, is to be fought only between the Presbyterians, and those of the church _yet_ established. I shall not enter into the merits of either side, by examining which of the two is the better spiritual economy, or which is most suited to the civil constitution: But the question turns upon this point: When the Presbyterians shall have got their share of employments (which, must be one full half, or else they cannot look upon themselves as fairly dealt with) I ask, whether they ought not by their own principles, and by the strictest rules of conscience, to use the utmost of their skill, power, and influence, in order to reduce the whole kingdom to an uniformity in religion, both as to doctrine and discipline, most agreeable to the word of God. Wherein, if they can succeed without blood (as, under the present disposition of things, it is very possible they may) it is to be hoped they will at last be satisfied: Only I would warn them of a few difficulties. The first is for compromising that important controversy about the _Old Light_ and the _New_;[7] which otherwise may, after this establishment, split them as wide as Papist and Protestant, Whig and Tory, or Churchmen and Dissenters; and consequently the work will be to begin again. For in religious quarrels, it is of little moment how few or small the differences are, especially when the dispute is only about power. Thus the jealous Presbyterians of the north, are more alienated from the established clergy, than from the Romish priests; taxing the former with idolatrous worship, as disguised Papists, ceremony-mongers, and many other terms of arts, and this for a very powerful reason, because the clergy stand in their way, which the Popish priests do not. Thus I am assured, that the quarrel between _Old_ and _New Light men_, is managed with more rage and rancour, than any other dispute of the highest importance; and this because it serves to lessen or increase their several congregations, from whom they receive their contributions. [Footnote 7: See "The Correspondent," Nos. 1 and 2, 1733, and note prefixed to present reprint of "Narrative of Several Attempts for the Repeal of the Sacramental Test" [T.S.]] Another difficulty which may embarrass the Presbyterians after their establishment, will be how to adjust their claim of the kirk's independency on the civil power, with the constitution of this monarchy; a point so delicate, that it hath often filled the heads of great patriots with dangerous notions of the church-clergy, without the least ground of suspicion. As to the Presbyterians allowing liberty of conscience to those of Episcopal principles, when their own kirk is predominant, their writers are so universally agreed in the negative, as well as their practice during Oliver's reign, that I believe no reasonable Churchman, (who must then be a dissenter) will expect it. I shall here take notice, that in the division of employments among the Presbyterians, after this approaching repeal of the Test Act, supposing them, in proper time, to have an equal share, I compute the odds will be three or four to one on their side, in any further scheme they may have towards making their religion national. For I reckon, all those gentlemen sent over from England, whatever religion they profess, or have been educated in, to be of that party: Since it is no mark of prudence, for any persons to oppose the current of a nation, where they are in some sort only sojourners, unless they have it in direction. If there be any maxim in politics, not to be controlled, it must be the following: That those whose private interest is united with the interest of their country, supposing them to be of equal understanding with the rest of their neighbours, will heartily wish, that the nation should thrive. Out of these are indubitably excepted all persons who are sent from another kingdom, to be employed in places of profit or power; because they can possibly bear no affection to the place where they sojourn, even for life; their sole business being to advance themselves, by following the advice of their principals. I except, likewise, those persons who are taken into offices, although natives of the land, because they are greater gainers while they keep their offices, than they could possibly be by mending the miserable condition of their country. I except, Thirdly, all hopers, who, by balancing accounts with themselves, turn the scale on the same side; because the strong expectation of a good certain salary, will outweigh the loss by bad rents, received out of lands in moneyless times. If my lords, the bishops, who, I hear, are now employed in a scheme for regulating the conduct and maintenance of the inferior clergy, shall in their wisdom and piety, and love of the church, consent to this repeal of the Test, I have not the least doubt, that the whole reverend body will cheerfully submit to their spiritual fathers, of whose paternal tenderness for their welfare, they have already found so many amazing instances. I am not, therefore, under the least concern about the clergy on this account. They will (_for some time_) be no great sufferers by this repeal; because I cannot recollect among all our sects, any one that gives latitude enough to take the oaths required at an institution to a church-living; and, until that bar shall be removed, the present Episcopal clergy are safe for two years. Although it may be thought somewhat unequal, that in the northern parts, where there may be three Dissenters to one Churchman, the whole revenue should be engrossed by one who hath so small a part of the cure. It is true, indeed, that this disadvantage, which the Dissenters at present lie under, of a disability to receive church-preferments, will be easily remedied by the repeal of the Test. For the dissenting teachers are under no incapacity of accepting civil and military employments, wherein they agree perfectly with the Popish clergy, among whom great cardinals and prelates have been commanders of armies, chief ministers, knights of many orders, ambassadors, secretaries of state, and in most high offices under the Crown, although they assert the indelible character, which no sectaries among us did ever assume. But, that many, both Presbyterians and Independents, commanders, as well as private soldiers, were professed preachers in the time of their dominion, is allowed by all. Cromwell himself was a preacher, and hath left us one of his sermons in print[8]: So was Col. Howard, Sir George Downing,[9] and several others whose names are on record. I can, therefore, see no reason why a painful Presbyterian teacher, as soon as the Test shall be repealed, may not be privileged, to hold along with his spiritual office and stipend, a commission in the army, or the civil list _in commendam_: For, as I take it, the Church of England is the only body of Christians, which, in effect, disqualifies those who are employed to preach its doctrine, from sharing in the civil power, further than as senators; which, however, was an institution[10] begun in times of Popery, many hundred years before the Reformation, and woven with the very institution of this limited monarchy. [Footnote 8: Scott inserts here the words: "exactly in the same style and manner with those of our modern Presbyterian teachers." [T.S.]] [Footnote 9: Sir George Downing (1623?-1684) born in England, completed his education at Harvard, Mass., U.S.A. In 1650, we hear of him as scout-master general of Cromwell's army in Scotland. He wrote many of the letters in "Mercurius Politicus." Distinguished himself principally as Cromwell's ambassador in France and Holland. Through Thomas Howard, however, he obtained an opportunity while legate in Holland for the Rump Parliament, for ingratiating himself in Charles II.'s favour. This Howard was brother to the Earl of Suffolk. As a consequence of this favour, Downing was made a baronet at the Restoration; and although a man of undoubted ability, his character has come down to us by no means free from taint. Many of his despatches are quoted by Clarendon in that writer's great history. Downing also wrote: "A Reply to the Remarks of the Deputies of the States-General upon Sir G. Downing's Memorial," 1665,; and "Discourses vindicating his Royal Master from a Libel," 1672. [T.S.]] [Footnote 10: Scott has, instead of "which, however, was an institution," the words, "yet this was a privilege." [T.S.]] There is indeed another method, by which the stipends of dissenting teachers may be raised, and the farmer much relieved; If it should be thought proper to reward a people so deserving, and so loyal by their principles. Every bishop, upon the vacancy of a church-living, can sequester the profits for the use of the next incumbent. Upon a lapse of half a year, the donation falls to the archbishop, and after a full year to the Crown, during pleasure; therefore it would be no hardship for any clergyman alive, if, in those parts of Ireland, where the number of sectaries much exceed that of the conformists, the profits, when sequestered, might be applied to the support of the dissenting teacher, who hath so many souls to take care of, whereby the poor tenants would be much relieved in these hard times, and in a better condition to pay their rents. But there is another difficulty in this matter, against which a remedy doth not so readily occur. For, supposing the Test Act repealed, and the Dissenters in consequence fully qualified for all secular employments, the question may still be put, whether those of Ireland will be often the persons on whom they shall be bestowed; because it is imagined, there may be another _seminary_[11] in view, _more numerous_ and _more needy_, as well as _more meriting_, and more easily contented with such low offices, as some nearer neighbours hardly think it worth stirring from their chimney-sides to obtain. And, I am told, it is the common practice of those who are skilled in the management of bees, that when they see a foreign swarm at some distance, approaching with an intention to plunder their hives, these artists have a trick to divert them into some neighbouring apiary, there to make what havoc they please. This I should not have hinted, if I had not known it already, to have gotten ground in many suspecting heads: For it is the peculiar talent of this nation, to see dangers afar off: To all which I can only say, that our native Presbyterians, must, by pains and industry, raise such a fund of _merit_, as will answer to a birth six degrees more to the north. If they cannot arrive at this perfection, as several of the established church have compassed by indefatigable pains, I do not well see how their affairs will much mend by repealing the Test; for, to be qualified by law for[12] an employment, and yet to be disqualified in fact, as it will much increase the mortification, so it will withdraw the pity of many among their well-wishers, and utterly deprive them of that merit, they have so long made of being a loyal, true Protestant people, persecuted only for religion. [Footnote 11: Scotland.] [Footnote 12: Scott has "to accept." [T.S.]] If this happen to be their case, they must wait maturity of time, till they can by prudent, gentle steps make their faith become the religion established in the nation, after which, I do not in the least doubt, their taking the most effectual methods to secure their power against those who must then be Dissenters in their turn, whereof, if we may form a future opinion from present times, and the disposition of Dissenters, who love to make a thorough reformation, the number and qualities will be very inconsiderable. Thus I have with the utmost sincerity, after long thinking, given my judgment upon this arduous affair; but with the utmost deference and submission to public wisdom and power. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** REASONS HUMBLY OFFERED TO THE PARLIAMENT OF IRELAND FOR REPEALING THE SACRAMENTAL TEST, &C. NOTE. In the 4to edition of Swift's works (1755) is given the following note: "The author having before examined 'The Presbyterians' Plea of Merit' with respect to their own principles and practices, has in this tract put them in the balance against Papists." In a reprint of this tract in the second volume of "Political Tracts," 2 vols. 8vo, 1738, London, is the following "Advertisement"--neither Scott, Faulkner, nor Hawkesworth give this. Probably it appeared in the first edition; but as I have not been able to come across this, I am not certain. "In the years 1732, and 1733, an attempt was made for repealing the Test Act in Ireland, introductory of a like attempt in England. The various arguments for it were answered in every shape; but no way more effectually than by examining what pretence the Presbyterians had to share in all the privileges of government, either from their own principles and behaviour, or compared with those of other sectaries. Under the former head they were fully silenced by our author in 'The Presbyterians' Plea of Merit Impartially Examined'. They are now put in the balance with Papists, whom though they have sometimes styled their brethren in adversity, yet when placed in competition, they will hate as brethren likewise. But let them here dispute the preference, and then put in their claim to be part of the establishment." "The arguments pretended to be urged by the Roman Catholics, in this tract," says Monck Mason, "consist partly of true statements and partly of ironical allusions, which are combined together into such a trellis work, as to render it almost unassailable." The text here given is that from the 4to edition (1755) of Swift's Works, collated with that in the second volume of "Political Tracts" above referred to. [T.S.] REASONS Humbly offered to the PARLIAMENT of IRELAND _For Repealing the_ SACRAMENTAL TEST, &c. IN FAVOUR OF THE CATHOLICS, OTHERWISE CALLED ROMAN CATHOLICS, AND BY THEIR ILL-WISHERS PAPISTS. Drawn partly from Arguments as they are Catholics, and partly from Arguments common to them with their Brethren the Dissenters. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1733. It is well known, that the first conquerors of this kingdom were English Catholics, subjects to English Catholic kings, from whom, by their valour and success, they obtained large portions of land given them as a reward for their many victories over the Irish: To which merit our brethren the Dissenters of any denomination whatsoever, have not the least pretensions. It is confessed, that the posterity of those first victorious Catholics were often forced to rise in their own defence, against new colonies from England, who treated them like mere native Irish, with innumerable oppressions; depriving them of their lands, and driving them by force of arms into the most desolate parts of the kingdom. Till in the next generation, the children of these tyrants were used in the same manner by new English adventurers, which practice continued for many centuries. But it is agreed on all hands, that no insurrections were ever made, except after great oppressions by fresh invaders. Whereas all the rebellions of Puritans, Presbyterians, Independents, and other sectaries, constantly began before any provocations were given, except that they were not suffered to change the government in Church and State, and seize both into their own hands; which, however, at last they did, with the murder of their King and of many thousands of his best subjects. The Catholics were always defenders of monarchy, as constituted in these kingdoms. Whereas our brethren the Dissenters were always republicans, both in principle and practice. It is well known that all the Catholics of these kingdoms, both priests and laity, are true Whigs in the best and most proper sense of the word; bearing as well in their hearts, as in their outward profession, an entire loyalty to the royal house of Hanover in the person and posterity of George II. against the Pretender and all his adherents. To which they think themselves bound in gratitude as well as conscience, by the lenity wherewith they have been treated since the death of Queen Anne, so different from what they suffered in the four last years of that Princess, during the administration of that _wicked_ minister, the Earl of Oxford. The Catholics of this kingdom humbly hope, that they have at least as fair a title as any of their brother Dissenters, to the appelation of Protestants. They have always protested against the selling, dethroning, or murdering their Kings: Against the usurpations and avarice of the court of Rome: Against Deism, Atheism, Socinianism, Quakerism, Muggletonianism, Fanaticism, Brownism, as well as against all Jews, Turks, Infidels, and Heretics. Whereas the title of Protestants assumed by the whole herd of Dissenters (except ourselves) dependeth entirely upon their protesting against archbishops, bishops, deans, and chapters, with their revenues; and the whole hierarchy. Which are the very expressions used in The Solemn League and Covenant,[1] where the word Popery is only mentioned _ad invidiam_; because the Catholics agree with the Episcopal church in those fundamentals. [Footnote 1: A solemn league and covenant entered into between the Scots and English fanatics, in the rebellion against King Charles I., 1643, by which they solemnly engaged, among other things, "To endeavour the extirpation of prelacy, that is, church government by archbishops, bishops, deans, archdeacons, and all other episcopal officers, depending on that hierarchy." [H.]] Although the Catholics cannot deny, that in the great rebellion against King Charles I. more soldiers of their religion were in the Parliament army than in His Majesty's troops; and that many Jesuits and friars went about in the disguise of Presbyterian and Independent ministers, to preach up rebellion; as the best historians of those times inform us; yet the bulk of Catholics in both kingdoms preserved their loyalty entire. The Catholics have some reason to think it a little hard, when their enemies will not please to distinguish between the rebellious riot committed by that brutal ruffian, Sir Phelim O'Neal[2] with his tumultuous crew of rabble; and the forces raised afterwards by the Catholic lords and gentlemen of the English pale, in defence of the King after the English rebellion began. It is well known, that His Majesty's affairs were in great distraction some time before, by an invasion of the covenanting, Scottish, kirk rebels, and by the base terms the King was forced to accept, that they might be kept in quiet, at a juncture when he was every hour threatened at home by that fanatic party, which soon after set all in a flame. And, if the Catholic army in Ireland fought for their King against the forces sent over by the Parliament, then in actual rebellion against him, what person of loyal principles can be so partial to deny, that they did their duty, by joining with the Marquis of Ormonde, and other commanders, who bore their commissions from the King? For which, great numbers of them lost their lives, and forfeited their estates; a great part of the latter being now possessed by many descendants from those very men who had drawn their swords in the service of that rebellious Parliament which cut off his head, and destroyed monarchy. And what is more amazing, although the same persons, when the Irish were entirely subdued, continued in power under the Rump; were chief confidants, and faithful subjects to Cromwell, yet being wise enough to foresee a restoration, they seized the forts and castles here, out of the hands of their old brethren in rebellion, for the service of the King; just saving the tide, and putting in a stock of merit, sufficient not only to preserve the lands which the Catholics lost by their loyalty; but likewise to preserve their civil and military employments, or be higher advanced. [Footnote 2: Sir Phelim O'Neill (1604?-1683) one of the most picturesque characters of Irish history. For his share in the rebellion of 1641 he was expelled from the Irish House of Commons. The rebellion was an attempt to assist Charles as against the Parliament, and O'Neill forged a commission, purporting to come from the King, authorizing the Irish to rise in his favour. The Scottish settlers in Ulster, on whom O'Neill relied for aid disappointed him, and he thereupon set to work to reduce all their towns. The famous siege of Drogheda was one of the many incidents of his campaign. He joined forces with his kinsman, Owen Roe O'Neill, but a jealous difference on his part urged Sir Phelim to support Ormonde, in 1640, in that general's endeavours for a peace. Sir Phelim, however, was not included in the benefit of the Articles of Kilkenny, and a price was placed on his head. He was betrayed by Philip Roe McHugh O'Neill, brought to Dublin, and executed as a traitor. [T.S.]] Those insurrections wherewith the Catholics are charged from the beginning of the seventeenth century to the great English rebellion, were occasioned by many oppressions they lay under. They had no intention to introduce a new religion, but to enjoy the liberty of preserving the old; the very same which their ancestors professed from the time that Christianity was first introduced into this island, which was by Catholics; but whether mingled with corruptions, as some pretend, doth not belong to the question. They had no design to change the government; they never attempted to fight against, to imprison, to betray, to sell, to bring to a trial, or to murder their King. The schismatics acted by a spirit directly contrary; they united in a Solemn League and Covenant, to alter the whole system of spiritual government, established in all Christian nations, and of apostolic institution; concluding the tragedy with the murder of the King in cold blood, and upon mature deliberation; at the same time changing the monarchy into a commonwealth. The Catholics of Ireland, in the great rebellion, lost their estates for fighting in defence of their King. The schismatics, who cut off the father's head, forced the son to fly for his life, and overturned the whole ancient frame of government, religious and civil; obtained grants of those very estates which the Catholics lost in defence of the ancient constitution, many of which estates are at this day possessed by the posterity of those schismatics: And thus, they gained by their rebellion what the Catholics lost by their loyalty.[3] [Footnote 3: This paragraph is omitted in edition of 1743, but it is printed in that of 1755. [T.S.]] We allow the Catholics to be brethren of the Dissenters; some people, indeed, (which we cannot allow) would have them to be our children, because _we_ both dissent from the Church established, and both agree in abolishing this persecuting Sacramental Test; by which negative discouragement we are both rendered incapable of civil and military employments. However, we cannot but wonder at the bold familiarity of these schismatics, in calling the members of the National Church their brethren and fellow Protestants. It is true, that all these sects (except the Catholics) are brethren to each other in faction, ignorance, iniquity, perverseness, pride, and (if we except the Quakers) in rebellion. But, how the churchmen can be styled their fellow Protestants, we cannot comprehend. Because, when the whole Babel of sectaries joined against the Church, the King, and the nobility for twenty years, in a match at football; where the proverb expressly tells us, that _all are fellows_; while the three kingdoms were tossed to and fro, the churches, and cities, and royal palaces shattered to pieces by their balls, their buffets, and their kicks; the victors would allow no more _fellows at football_: But murdered, sequestered, plundered, deprived, banished to the plantations, or enslaved all their opposers who had lost the game. It is said the world is governed by opinion; and politicians assure us, that all power is founded thereupon. Wherefore, as all human creatures are fond to distraction of their own opinions; and so much the more, as those opinions are absurd, ridiculous, or of little moment; it must follow, that they are equally fond of power. But no opinions are maintained with so much obstinacy as those in religion, especially by such zealots who never bore the least regard to religion, conscience, honour, justice, truth, mercy, or common morality, farther than in outward appearance; under the mask of hypocrisy, to promote their diabolical designs. And therefore Bishop Burnet, one of their oracles, tells us honestly, that the _saints_ of those fanatic times, pronounced themselves above morality; which they reckoned among "beggarly elements"; but the meaning of those two last words thus applied, we confess to be above our understanding. Among those kingdoms and states which first embraced the Reformation, England appears to have received it in the most regular way; where it was introduced in a peaceable manner, by the supreme power of a King,[4] and the three estates in Parliament; to which, as the highest legislative authority, all subjects are bound passively to submit. Neither was there much blood shed on so great a change of religion. But a considerable number of lords, and other persons of quality through the kingdom still continued in their old faith, and were, notwithstanding their difference in religion, employed in offices civil as well as military, more or less in every reign, until the Test Act in the time of King Charles II. However, from the time of the Reformation, the number of Catholics gradually and considerably lessened. So that in the reign of King Charles I. England became, in a great degree, a Protestant Kingdom, without taking the sectaries into the number; the legality whereof, with respect to human laws, the Catholics never disputed: But the Puritans, and other schismatics, without the least pretence to any such authority, by an open rebellion, destroyed that legal Reformation, as we observed before, murdered their King, and changed the monarchy into a republic. It is therefore not to be wondered at, if the Catholics, in such a Babel of religions, chose to adhere to their own faith left to them by their ancestors, rather than seek for a better among a rabble of hypocritical, rebellious, deluding knaves, or deluded enthusiasts. [Footnote 4: Henry VIII [H.]] We repeat once more, that if a national religion be changed by the supreme legislative power, we cannot dispute the human legality of such a change. But we humbly conceive, that if any considerable party of men which differs from an establishment, either old or new, can deserve liberty of conscience, it ought to consist of those who for want of conviction, or of a right understanding the merits of each cause, conceive themselves bound in conscience to adhere to the religion of their ancestors; because they are of all others least likely to be authors of innovations, either in Church or State. On t'other side; If the reformation of religion be founded upon rebellion against the King, without whose consent, by the nature of our constitution, no law can pass. If this reformation be introduced by only one of the three estates, I mean the Commons, and not by one half even of those Commons; and this by the assistance of a rebellious army: Again, if this reformation were carried on by the exclusion of nobles both lay and spiritual (who constitute the two other parts of the three estates) by the murder of their King, and by abolishing the whole system of government; the Catholics cannot see why the successors of those schismatics, who are universally accused by all parties except themselves, and a few infamous abettors, for still retaining the same principles in religion and government, under which their predecessors acted; should pretend to a better share of civil or military trust, profit and power than the Catholics, who during all that period of twenty years, were continually persecuted with utmost severity, merely on account of their loyalty and constant adherence to kingly power. We now come to those arguments for repealing the Sacramental Test, which equally affect the Catholics, and their brethren the Dissenters. _First_, We agree with our fellow Dissenters; that "persecution merely for conscience' sake, is against the genius of the Gospel."[5] And so likewise is "any law for depriving men of their natural and civil rights which they claim as men." We are also ready enough to allow that "the smallest negative discouragements for uniformity's sake are so many persecutions." Because, it cannot be denied, that the scratch of a pin is in some degree a real wound, as much as a stab through the heart. In like manner, an incapacity by law for any man to be made a judge, a colonel, or justice of the peace, "merely on a point of conscience, is a negative discouragement," and consequently a real persecution: For, in this case, the author of the pamphlet quoted in the margin[6] puts a very pertinent and powerful question: That, "If God be the sole lord of the conscience, why should the rights of conscience be subject to human jurisdiction?" Now to apply this to the Catholics: The belief of transubstantiation "is a matter purely of religion and conscience, which doth not affect the political interest of society as such. Therefore, Why should the rights of conscience, whereof God is the sole lord, be subject to human jurisdiction?" And why should God be deprived of this right over a Catholic's conscience any more than over that of any other Dissenter? [Footnote 5: _Vid_. Reasons for the Repeal of the Sacramental Test. [Note in edit. 1738.]] [Footnote 6: _Idem_.] And whereas another author among our brethren the Dissenters, hath very justly complained, that by this persecuting Test Act, great numbers of true Protestants have been forced to leave the kingdom, and fly to the plantations, rather than stay here branded with an incapacity for civil and military employments; we do affirm, that the Catholics can bring many more instances of the same kind; some thousands of their religion have been forced by the Sacramental Test, to retire into other countries, rather than live here under the incapacity of wearing swords, sitting in Parliament, and getting that share of power and profit which belongs to them as fellow Christians, whereof they are deprived "merely upon account of conscience, which would not allow them to take the sacrament after the manner prescribed in the liturgy." Hence it clearly follows in the words of the same author,[7] "That if we Catholics are uncapable of employments, we are punished for our dissent, that is, for our conscience, which wholly turns upon political considerations." [Footnote 7: See "Reasons against the Test." [Note in edit. 1738.]] The Catholics are willing to acknowledge the King's supremacy, whenever their brethren the Dissenters shall please to shew them the example. Further, The Catholics, whenever their religion shall come to be the national established faith, are willing to undergo the same test offered by the author already quoted. His words are these: "To end this debate, by putting it upon a foot which I hope will appear to every impartial person a fair and equitable one; We Catholics propose, with submission to the proper judges, that effectual security be taken against persecution, by obliging all who are admitted into places of power and trust, whatever their religious profession be, in the most solemn manner to disclaim persecuting principles." It is hoped the public will take notice of these words; "Whatever their religious profession be;" which plainly include the Catholics; and for which we return thanks to our dissenting brethren. And, whereas it is objected by those of the established Church, that if the schismatics and fanatics were once put into a capacity of possessing civil and military employments; they would never be at ease till they had raised their own way of worship into the national religion through all His Majesty's dominions, equal with the true orthodox Scottish kirk; which when they had once brought to pass, they would no more allow liberty of conscience to Episcopal Dissenters, than they did in the time of the great English rebellion, and in the succeeding fanatic anarchy till the King was restored. There is another very learned schismatical pamphleteer,[8] who in answer to a malignant libel, called, _The Presbyterians' Plea of Merit, &c_., clearly wipes off this aspersion; by assuring all Episcopal Protestants of the present Church, upon his own word, and to his own knowledge, that our brethren the Dissenters will never offer at such an attempt. In like manner, the Catholics when legally required, will openly declare upon their words and honours, that, as soon as their negative discouragements and their persecution shall be removed by repealing the Sacramental Test, they will leave it entirely to the merits of the cause, whether the kingdom shall think fit to make their faith the established religion or not. [Footnote 8: "Vindication of the Protestant Dissenters." This pamphlet has been mentioned in the note prefixed to "The Presbyterians' Plea of Merit." It was written as a reply to that tract, and to the "Narrative."[T.S.]] And again, Whereas our Presbyterian brethren in many of their pamphlets, take much offence, that the great rebellion in England, the murder of the King, with the entire change of religion and government, are perpetually objected against them both in and out of season, by our common enemy, the present conformists: We do declare in the defence of our said brethren, that the reproach aforesaid is _an old worn-out threadbare cant_, which they always disdained to answer: And I very well remember, that, having once told a certain conformist, how much I wondered to hear him and his tribe, dwelling perpetually on so beaten a subject; he was pleased to divert the discourse with a foolish story, which I cannot forbear telling to his disgrace. He said, there was a clergyman in Yorkshire, who for fifteen years together preached every Sunday against drunkenness: Whereat the parishioners being much offended, complained to the archbishop; who having sent for the clergyman, and severely reprimanded him, the minister had no better an answer, than by confessing the fact; adding, that all the parish were drunkards; that he desired to reclaim them from one vice before he would begin upon another; and, since they still continued to be as great drunkards as before, he resolved to go on, except his Grace would please to forbid him. We are very sensible how heavy an accusation lieth upon the Catholics of Ireland; that some years before King Charles II. was restored, when theirs and the King's forces were entirely reduced, and the kingdom declared by the Rump to be settled; after all His Majesty's generals were forced to fly to France, or other countries, the heads of the said Catholics who remained here in an enslaved condition, joined to send an invitation to the Duke of Lorrain; engaging, upon his appearing here with his forces, to deliver up the whole island to his power, and declare him their sovereign; which, after the Restoration, was proved against them by Dean Boyle, since primate, who produced the very original instrument at the board. The Catholics freely acknowledge the fact to be true; and, at the same time appeal to all the world, whether a wiser, a better, a more honourable, or a more justifiable project could have been thought of. They were then reduced to slavery and beggary by the English rebels, many thousands of them murdered, the rest deprived of their estates, and driven to live on a small pittance in the wilds of Connaught; at a time when either the Rump or Cromwell absolutely governed the three kingdoms. And the question will turn upon this, Whether the Catholics, deprived of all their possessions, governed with a rod of iron, and in utter despair of ever seeing the monarchy restored, for the preservation of which they had suffered so much, were to be blamed for calling in a foreign prince of their own religion, who had a considerable army to support them; rather than submit to so infamous an usurper as Cromwell, or such a bloody and ignominious conventicle as the Rump. And I have often heard, not only our friends the Dissenters, but even our common enemy the Conformists, who are conversant in the history of those times, freely confess, that considering the miserable situation the Irish were then in, they could not have thought of a braver or more virtuous attempt; by which they might have been instruments of restoring the lawful monarch, at least to the recovery of England and Scotland, from those betrayers, and sellers, and murderers of his royal father. To conclude, Whereas the last quoted author complains very heavily and frequently of a _brand_ that lies upon them, it is a great mistake: For the first original brand hath been long taken off. Only we confess, the scar will probably remain and be visible for ever to those who know the principles by which they acted, and until those principles shall be openly renounced; else it must continue to all generations, like the mark set upon Cain, which some authors say descended to all his posterity: Or like the Roman nose and Austrian lip, or like the long bag of flesh hanging down from the gills of the people in Piedmont. But as for any brands fixed on schismatics for several years past, they have been all made with cold iron; like thieves, who by the benefit of the clergy are condemned to be only burned in the hand; but escape the pain and the mark, by being in fee with the jailor. Which advantage the schismatical teachers will never want, who, as we are assured, and of which there is a very fresh instance, have the souls, and bodies, and purses of the people a hundred times more at their mercy, than the Catholic priests could ever pretend to. Therefore, upon the whole, the Catholics do humbly petition (without the least insinuation of threatening) that upon this favourable juncture their incapacity for civil and military employments may be wholly taken off, for the very same reasons (besides others more cogent) that are now offered by their brethren the Dissenters. _And your petitioners, as in duty bound, shall ever pray, &c_.[9] Dublin, Nov. 1733. [Footnote 9: In this controversy the author was again victorious, for the Test was not repealed. [H.]] ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** SOME FEW THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE REPEAL OF THE TEST.[1] [Footnote 1: The text is that of the quarto edition (1765) of Swift's Works. [T.S.]] Those of either side who have written upon this subject of the Test, in making or answering objections, seem to fail by not pressing sufficiently the chief point upon which the controversy turns. The arguments used by those who write for the Church are very good in their kind, but will have little force under the present corruptions of mankind, because the authors treat this subject _tanquam in republicâ, Platonis, et non in fæce Romuli_. It must be confessed, that, considering how few employments of any consequence fall to the share of those English who are born in this kingdom, and those few very dearly purchased, at the expense of conscience, liberty, and all regard for the public good, they are not worth contending for: And, if nothing but profit were in the case, it would hardly cost me one sigh when I should see those few scraps thrown among every species of fanatics, to scuffle for among themselves. And this will infallibly be the case, after repealing the Test. For, every subdivision of sect will, with equal justice, pretend to have a share; and, as it is usual with sharers, will never think they have enough, while any pretender is left unprovided. I shall not except the Quakers; because, when the passage is once let open for all sects to partake in public emoluments, it is very probable the lawfulness of taking oaths, and wearing carnal weapons,[2] may be revealed to the brotherhood; which thought, I confess, was first put into my head by one of the shrewdest Quakers in this kingdom.[3] [Footnote 2: The Quakers were more likely to admit this relaxation of their peculiar tenets, as, upon their first appearance as a sect, they did not by any means profess the principle of non-resistance, which they afterwards adopted. [S.]] [Footnote 3: The Quaker hinted at by Dr. Swift was Mr. George Rooke, a linen-draper. In a letter to Mr. Pope, Aug. 30, 1716, Dr. Swift says, "There is a young ingenious Quaker in this town, who writes verses to his mistress, not very correct, but in a strain purely what a poetical Quaker should do, commending her look and habit, &c. It gave me a hint, that a set of Quaker pastorals might succeed, if our friend Gay would fancy it; and I think it a fruitful subject: pray hear what he says."--Accordingly Gay wrote "The Espousal, a sober Eclogue, between two of the People called Quakers." [S.]] ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** TEN REASONS FOR REPEALING THE TEST ACT.[1] [Footnote 1: "This Tract is from a rare broadside copy. It appears to be written by the Dean, and the arguments correspond with those he uses elsewhere" So says Scott; but Monck Mason considers this tract no more the work of Swift than several others he mentions. See note prefixed to "The Presbyterians' Plea of Merit." [T.S.]] I. Because the Presbyterians are people of such great interest in this kingdom, that there are not above ten of their persuasion in the House of Commons, and but one in the House of Lords; though they are not obliged to take the sacrament in the Established Church to qualify them to be members of either House. 2. Because those of the Established Church of this kingdom are so disaffected to the King, that not one of them worth mentioning, except the late Duke of Ormond,[2] has been concerned in the rebellion; and that our Parliament, though there be so few Presbyterians, has, upon all occasions, proved its loyalty to King George, and has readily agreed to and enacted what might support his government. [Footnote 2: James Butler, Duke of Ormond (1610-1688), was lieutenant-general of the army of Ireland during the rebellion of 1641. After his defeat of General Preston, in 1643, he was appointed Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland; but retired to France on the fall of the Stuart dynasty. The execution of Charles caused Ormond to land again in Ireland for the purpose of rousing that country in favour of the royal cause; but he forsook it on the landing of Cromwell. At the Restoration he came over with Charles, and was raised, for his services, to the dukedom. He was, however, deprived of his lord-lieutenancy for his friendship for the exiled Clarendon. He had a narrow escape for his life from the plots of Colonel Blood, whom he forgave at the request of the King. In 1682 he was rewarded by being promoted to an English dukedom. [T.S.]] 3. Because very few of the Presbyterians have lost an employment worth £20 per annum, for not qualifying themselves according to the Test Act; nor will they accept of a militia commission, though they do of one in the army. 4. Because, if they are not in the militia and other places of trust, the Pretender and his adherents will destroy us; when he has no one to support him but the King of Spain; when King George is at a good understanding with Sweden, Prussia, and Denmark; and when he has made the best alliances in Christendom. When the Emperor, King of Great Britain, the French King, the King of Sardinia, are all in the quadruple alliance against the Spaniard, his upstart cardinal,[3] and the Pretender; when bloody plots against Great Britain and France are blown up; when the Spanish fleet is quite dispersed; when the French army is overrunning Spain; and when the rebels in Scotland are cut off. [Footnote 3: Cardinal Julius Alberoni (1664-1752), born at Parma, obtained the favour, when a humble parish priest, of the Duke of Vendôme, by informing that general of the whereabouts of some corn, which the country folk had hidden. He followed the Duke to Spain, and was successful in bringing about the marriage between the Princess of Parma and Philip V. For this service he was made Prime Minister of Spain, a cardinal, and Archbishop of Valencia. He entered heartily into Philip's designs for recovering Spain's lost territory, and showed even more boldness than his royal master in their execution. His reduction of Sardinia precipitated the alliance between England, France, Holland, and afterwards, Austria. Spain, with Alberoni as its guiding spirit, supported the Jacobite cause to harass England, and conquered Sicily. But at Messina the Spanish fleet was destroyed by the English, and in the north of Spain the forces of Philip were repulsed by the French. In the end, Spain gave way, and Alberoni was dismissed to retire to Rome, and to be safely lodged in the Jesuits' College there. On his release he returned to his native town, but died at Rome. [T.S.]] 5. The test clause should be repealed, because it is a defence against the reformation the Presbyterians long since promised the churches of England and Ireland, viz. "We, noblemen, barons, knights, gentlemen, citizens, burgesses, ministers of the Gospel, commons of all sorts in the kingdoms of Scotland, England, and Ireland, &c.[4] each one of us for himself, with our hands lifted up to the most high God, do swear, first, That we shall sincerely, really, and constantly, through the grace of God, endeavour, in our several places and callings, the preservation of the reformed religion in the Church of Scotland, in doctrine, worship, discipline, and government. Secondly, That we shall in like manner, without respect of persons, endeavour the extirpation of Popery, Prelacy; that is, church-government by archbishops, their chancellors, and commissaries, deans, deacons, and chapters, archdeacons, and all other ecclesiastical officers depending on that hierarchy." [Footnote 4: _Vide_ "Confession of Faith," pp. 304, 305.] 6. Because the Presbyterian Church-Government may be independent of the state. The Lord Jesus is King and Head of his Church;[5] hath therein appointed a government in the hands of church-officers, distinct from the civil magistrate. As magistrates may lawfully call a synod of ministers to consult and advise with about matters of religion; so, if magistrates be open enemies to the Church, the ministers of Christ of themselves, by virtue of their office, or they with other fit persons, upon delegation from their churches, may meet together in such assemblies.[6] [Footnote 5: "Confession of Faith," p. 87.] [Footnote 6: _Ibid_., pp. 88, 89.] 7. Because they have not the free use of their religion, when they disdain a toleration. 8. Because they have so much charity for Episcopacy, as to account it iniquitous. The address of the General Assembly to the Duke of Queensbury in the late reign says, that to tolerate the Episcopal clergy in Scotland would be to establish iniquity by a law. 9. Because repealing the test clause will probably disoblige ten of his Majesty's good subjects, for one it can oblige. 10. Because, if the test clause be repealed, the Presbyterians may with the better grace get into employments, and the easier worm out those of the Established Church. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** SERMONS. The following Form of Prayer, which Dr. Swift constantly used in the pulpit before his sermon, is copied from his own handwriting: "Almighty and most merciful God! forgive us all our sins. Give us grace heartily to repent them, and to lead new lives. Graft in our hearts a true love and veneration for thy holy name and word. Make thy pastors burning and shining lights, able to convince gainsayers, and to save others and themselves. Bless this congregation here met together in thy name; grant them to hear and receive thy holy word, to the salvation of their own souls. Lastly, we desire to return thee praise and thanksgiving for all thy mercies bestowed upon us; but chiefly for the Fountain of them all, Jesus Christ our Lord, in whose name and words we further call upon thee, saying, 'Our Father,' &c." NOTE. These twelve sermons are what have been handed down to us of a bundle of thirty-five which Swift, some years before his death, gave to Dr. Sheridan. Swift had no great opinion of them himself, if we may judge from what he said to his friend when he offered him the bundle. "You may have them if you please; they may be of use to you, they never were of any to me." There is not much in any of them of that quality which characterizes the average sermon. For the artifices of rhetoric which are usually employed to move hearers Swift had no small contempt. He aimed to convince the mind by plain statements of common-sense views. He had no faith in a conviction brought about under the stress of emotional excitement. His sermons exactly answer to the advice he gave a young clergyman--"First tell the people what is their duty, and then convince them that it is so." In the note to his reprint of these sermons Sir Walter Scott has very admirably summed up their qualities. "The Sermons of Swift," says Scott, "have none of that thunder which appals, or that resistless and winning softness which melts, the hearts of an audience. He can never have enjoyed the triumph of uniting hundreds in one ardent sentiment of love, of terror, or of devotion. His reasoning, however powerful, and indeed unanswerable, convinces the understanding, but is never addressed to the heart; and, indeed, from his instructions to a young clergyman, he seems hardly to have considered pathos as a legitimate ingredient in an English sermon. Occasionally, too, Swift's misanthropic habits break out even from the pulpit; nor is he altogether able to suppress his disdain of those fellow mortals, on whose behalf was accomplished the great work of redemption. With such unamiable feelings towards his hearers, the preacher might indeed command their respect, but could never excite their sympathy. It may be feared that his Sermons were less popular from another cause, imputable more to the congregation than to the pastor. Swift spared not the vices of rich or poor; and, disdaining to amuse the imaginations of his audience with discussion of dark points of divinity, or warm them by a flow of sentimental devotion, he rushes at once to the point of moral depravity, and upbraids them with their favourite and predominant vices in a tone of stern reproof, bordering upon reproach. In short, he tears the bandages from their wounds, like the hasty surgeon of a crowded hospital, and applies the incision knife and caustic with salutary, but rough and untamed severity. But, alas! the mind must be already victorious over the worst of its evil propensities, that can profit by this harsh medicine. There is a principle of opposition in our nature, which mans itself with obstinacy even against avowed truth, when it approaches our feelings in a harsh and insulting manner. And Swift was probably sensible, that his discourses, owing to these various causes, did not produce the powerful effects most grateful to the feelings of the preacher, because they reflect back to him those of the audience. "But although the Sermons of Swift are deficient in eloquence, and were lightly esteemed by their author, they must not be undervalued by the modern reader. They exhibit, in an eminent degree, that powerful grasp of intellect which distinguished the author above all his contemporaries. In no religious discourses can be found more sound good sense, more happy and forcible views of the immediate subject. The reasoning is not only irresistible, but managed in a mode so simple and clear, that its force is obvious to the most ordinary capacity. Upon all subjects of morality, the preacher maintains the character of a rigid and inflexible monitor; neither admitting apology for that which is wrong, nor softening the difficulty of adhering to that which is right; a stern stoicism of doctrine, that may fail in finding many converts, but leads to excellence in the few manly minds who dare to embrace it. In treating the doctrinal points of belief, (as in his Sermon upon the Trinity,) Swift systematically refuses to quit the high and pre-eminent ground which the defender of Christianity is entitled to occupy, or to submit to the test of human reason, mysteries which are placed, by their very nature, far beyond our finite capacities. Swift considered, that, in religion, as in profane science, there must be certain ultimate laws which are to be received as fundamental truths, although we are incapable of defining or analysing their nature; and he censures those divines, who, in presumptuous confidence of their own logical powers, enter into controversy upon such mysteries of faith, without considering that they give thereby the most undue advantage to the infidel. Our author wisely and consistently declared reason an incompetent judge of doctrines, of which God had declared the fact, concealing from man the manner. He contended, that he who, upon the whole, receives the Christian religion as of divine inspiration, must be contented to depend upon God's truth, and his holy word, and receive with humble faith the mysteries which are too high for comprehension. Above all, Swift points out, with his usual forcible precision, the mischievous tendency of those investigations which, while they assail one fundamental doctrine of the Christian religion, shake and endanger the whole fabric, destroy the settled faith of thousands, pervert and mislead the genius of the learned and acute, destroy and confound the religious principles of the simple and ignorant." In 1744, Faulkner printed three sermons as a single volume; these were "On Mutual Subjection," "On Conscience," and "On the Trinity." The other sermons appeared in the various editions issued by Nichols and others. The text here given is that of the volume of 1744, of Hawkesworth and Scott. [T.S.] ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION. I PETER, V. 5. "--Yea, all of you be subject one to another." The Apostle having in many parts of this epistle given directions to Christians concerning the duty of subjection or obedience to superiors; in the several instances of the subject to his prince, the child to his parent, the servant to his master, the wife to her husband, and the younger to the elder; doth here, in the words of my text, sum up the whole, by advancing a point of doctrine, which at first may appear a little extraordinary: "Yea, all of you," saith he, "be subject one to another." For it should seem, that two persons cannot properly be said to be subject to each other, and that subjection is only due from inferiors to those above them: yet St Paul hath several passages to the same purpose. For he exhorts the Romans, "in honour to prefer one another:"[1] and the Philippians, "that in lowliness of mind they should each esteem other better than themselves;"[2] and the Ephesians, "that they should submit themselves one to another in the fear of the Lord."[3] Here we find these two great apostles recommending to all Christians this duty of mutual subjection. For we may observe by St Peter, that having mentioned the several relations which men bear to each other, as governor and subject, master and servant, and the rest which I have already repeated, he maketh no exception, but sums up the whole with commanding "all to be subject one to another." From whence we may conclude, that this subjection due from all men to all men, is something more than the compliment of course, when our betters are pleased to tell us they are our humble servants, but understand us to be their slaves. [Footnote 1: Rom. xii. 10.] [Footnote 2: Philip. ii. 3.] [Footnote 3: Ephes. v. 21.] I know very well, that some of those who explain this text, apply it to humility, to the duties of charity, to private exhortations, and to bearing with each other's infirmities: And it is probable, the apostle may have had a regard to all these: But however, many learned men agree, that there is something more understood, and so the words in their plain natural meaning must import; as you will observe yourselves, if you read them with the beginning of the verse, which is thus: "Likewise ye younger submit yourselves unto the elder; yea, all of you be subject one to another." So, that upon the whole, there must be some kind of subjection due from every man to every man, which cannot be made void by any power, pre-eminence, or authority whatsoever. Now, what sort of subjection this is, and how it ought to be paid, shall be the subject of my present discourse. As God hath contrived all the works of nature to be useful, and in some manner a support to each other, by which the whole frame of the world under his providence is preserved and kept up; so, among mankind, our particular stations are appointed to each of us by God Almighty, wherein we are obliged to act, as far as our power reacheth, toward the good of the whole community. And he who doth not perform that part assigned him, toward advancing the benefit of the whole, in proportion to his opportunities and abilities, is not only a useless, but a very mischievous member of the public: Because he taketh his share of the profit, and yet leaves his share of the burden to be borne by others, which is the true principal cause of most miseries and misfortunes in life. For, a wise man who doth not assist with his counsels, a great man with his protection, a rich man with his bounty and charity, and a poor man with his labour, are perfect nuisances in a commonwealth. Neither is any condition of life more honourable in the sight of God than another; otherwise he would be a respecter of persons, which he assureth us he is not: For he hath proposed the same salvation to all men, and hath only placed them in different ways or stations to work it out. Princes are born with no more advantages of strength or wisdom than other men; and, by an unhappy education, are usually more defective in both than thousands of their subjects. They depend for every necessary of life upon the meanest of their people: Besides, obedience and subjection were never enjoined by God to humour the passions, lusts, and vanities of those who demand them from us; but we are commanded to obey our governors, because disobedience would breed seditions in the state. Thus servants are directed to obey their masters, children their parents, and wives their husbands; not from any respect of persons in God, but because otherwise there would be nothing but confusion in private families. This matter will be clearly explained, by considering the comparison which St Paul maketh between the Church of Christ and the body of man: For the same resemblance will hold, not only to families and kingdoms, but to the whole corporation of mankind. "The eye," saith he,[4] "cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee; nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of thee. Nay, much more, those members of the body which seem to be more feeble, are necessary. And whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or one member be honoured, all the members rejoice with it." The case is directly the same among mankind. The prince cannot say to the merchant, I have no need of thee; nor the merchant to the labourer, I have no need of thee. Nay, much more those members, &c. For the poor are generally more necessary members of the commonwealth than the rich: Which clearly shews, that God never intented such possessions for the sake and service of those to whom he lends them: but because he hath assigned every man his particular station to be useful in life; and this for the reason given by the apostle, "that there should be no schism in the body."[5] [Footnote 4: 1 Corin. xii. 21, 23, 26.] [Footnote 5: 1 Corin. xii. 25.] From hence may partly be gathered the nature of that subjection which we all owe to one another. God Almighty hath been pleased to put us into an imperfect state, where we have perpetual occasion of each other's assistance. There is none so low, as not to be in a capacity of assisting the highest; nor so high, as not to want the assistance of the lowest. It plainly appears from what hath been said, that no one human creature is more worthy than another in the sight of God; farther, than according to the goodness or holiness of their lives; and, that power, wealth, and the like outward advantages, are so far from being the marks of God's approving or preferring those on whom they are bestowed, that, on the contrary, he is pleased to suffer them to be almost engrossed by those who have least title to his favour. Now, according to this equality wherein God hath placed all mankind, with relation himself, you will observe, that in all the relations between man and man, there is a mutual dependence, whereby the one cannot subsist without the other. Thus, no man can be a prince without subjects, nor a master without servants, nor a father without children. And this both explains and confirms the doctrine of the text: For, where there is a mutual dependence, there must be a mutual duty, and consequently a mutual subjection. For instance, the subject must only obey his prince, because God commands it, human laws require it, and the safety of the public maketh it necessary: (For the same reasons we must obey all that are in authority, and submit ourselves, not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward, whether they rule according to our liking or no.) On the other side, in those countries that pretend to freedom, princes are subject to those laws which their people have chosen; they are bound to protect their subjects in liberty, property, and religion; to receive their petitions, and redress their grievances: So, that the best prince is, in the opinion of wisemen, only the greatest servant of the nation; not only a servant to the public in general, but in some sort to every man in it. In the like manner, a servant owes obedience, and diligence and faithfulness to his master, from whom, at the same time, he hath a just demand for protection, and maintenance, and gentle treatment. Nay, even the poor beggar hath a just demand of an alms from the rich man, who is guilty of fraud, injustice, and oppression, if he doth not afford relief according to his abilities. But this subjection we all owe one another is nowhere more necessary than in the common conversations of life; for without it there could be no society among men. If the learned would not sometimes submit to the ignorant, the wise to the simple, the gentle to the froward, the old to the weaknesses of the young, there would be nothing but everlasting variance in the world. This our Saviour himself confirmed by his own example; for he appeared in the form of a servant, and washed his disciples' feet, adding those memorable words: "Ye call me Lord and Master, and ye say well, for so I am. If I then your Lord and Master wash your feet, how much more ought ye to wash one another's feet?" Under which expression of washing the feet, is included all that subjection, assistance, love, and duty, which every good Christian ought to pay his brother, in whatever station God hath placed him. For the greatest prince and the meanest slave, are not, by infinite degrees so distant, as our Saviour and those disciples whose feet he vouchsafed to wash. And, although this doctrine of subjecting ourselves to one another may seem to grate upon the pride and vanity of mankind, and may therefore be hard to be digested by those who value themselves upon their greatness or their wealth; yet, it is really no more than what most men practise upon other occasions. For, if our neighbour who is our inferior comes to see us, we rise to receive him, we place him above us, and respect him as if he were better than ourselves; and this is thought both decent and necessary, and is usually called good manners. Now the duty required by the apostle, is only that we should enlarge our minds, and that what we thus practice in the common course of life, we should imitate in all our actions and proceedings whatsoever; since our Saviour tells us, that every man is our neighbour, and since we are so ready in the point of civility, to yield to others in our own houses, where only we have any title to govern. Having thus shewn you what sort of subjection it is which all men owe one to another, and in what manner it ought to be paid, I shall now draw some observations from what hath been said. And _first_: A thorough practice of this duty of subjecting ourselves to the wants and infirmities of each other, would utterly extinguish in us the vice of pride. For, if God hath pleased to entrust me with a talent, not for my own sake, but for the service of others, and at the same time hath left me full of wants and necessities which others must supply; I can then have no cause to set any extraordinary value upon myself, or to despise my brother, because he hath not the same talents which were lent to me. His being may probably be as useful to the public as mine; and, therefore, by the rules of right reason, I am in no sort preferable to him. _Secondly_: It is very manifest, from what hath been said, that no man ought to look upon the advantages of life, such as riches, honour, power, and the like, as his property, but merely as a trust, which God hath deposited with him, to be employed for the use of his brethren; and God will certainly punish the breach of that trust, although the laws of man will not, or rather indeed cannot; because the trust was conferred only by God, who hath not left it to any power on earth to decide infallibly whether a man maketh a good use of his talents or no, or to punish him where he fails. And therefore God seems to have more particularly taken this matter into his own hands, and will most certainly reward or punish us in proportion to our good or ill performance in it. Now, although the advantages which one man possesseth more than another, may in some sense be called his property with respect to other men, yet with respect to God they are, as I said, only a trust: which will plainly appear from hence. If a man doth not use those advantages to the good of the public, or the benefit of his neighbour, it is certain he doth not deserve them; and consequently, that God never intended them for a blessing to him; and on the other side, whoever doth employ his talents as he ought, will find by his own experience, that they were chiefly lent him for the service of others: for to the service of others he will certainly employ them. _Thirdly_: If we could all be brought to practise this duty of subjecting ourselves to each other, it would very much contribute to the general happiness of mankind: for this would root out envy and malice from the heart of man; because you cannot envy your neighbour's strength, if he maketh use of it to defend your life, or carry your burden; you cannot envy his wisdom, if he gives you good counsel; nor his riches, if he supplieth you in your wants; nor his greatness, if he employs it to your protection. The miseries of life are not properly owing to the unequal distribution of things; but God Almighty, the great King of Heaven, is treated like the kings of the earth; who, although perhaps intending well themselves, have often most abominable ministers and stewards; and those generally the vilest, to whom they entrust the most talents. But here is the difference, that the princes of this world see by other men's eyes, but God sees all things; and therefore whenever he permits his blessings to be dealt among those who are unworthy, we may certainly conclude that he intends them only as a punishment to an evil world, as well as to the owners. It were well, if those would consider this, whose riches serve them only as a spur to avarice, or as an instrument to their lusts; whose wisdom is only of this world, to put false colours upon things, to call good evil, and evil good, against the conviction of their own consciences; and lastly, who employ their power and favour in acts of oppression or injustice, in misrepresenting persons and things, or in countenancing the wicked to the ruin of the innocent. _Fourthly_: The practice of this duty of being subject to one another, would make us rest contented in the several stations of life wherein God hath thought fit to place us; because it would in the best and easiest manner bring us back as it were to that early state of the Gospel when Christians had all things in common. For, if the poor found the rich disposed to supply their wants; if the ignorant found the wise ready to instruct and direct them; or if the weak might always find protection from the mighty; they could none of them with the least pretence of justice lament their own condition. From all that hath been hitherto said, it appears, that great abilities of any sort, when they are employed as God directs, do but make the owners of them greater and more painful servants to their neighbour, and the public; however, we are by no means to conclude from hence, that they are not really blessings, when they are in the hands of good men. For first, what can be a greater honour than to be chosen one of the stewards and dispensers of God's bounty to mankind? What is there, that can give a generous spirit more pleasure and complacency of mind, than to consider that he is an instrument of doing much good? that great numbers owe to him, under God, their subsistence, their safety, their health, and the good conduct of their lives? The wickedest man upon earth taketh a pleasure in doing good to those he loveth; and therefore surely a good Christian, who obeys our Saviour's command of loving all men, cannot but take delight in doing good even to his enemies. God, who giveth all things to all men, can receive nothing from any; and those among men, who do the most good, and receive the fewest returns, do most resemble their Creator: for which reason, St Paul delivereth it as a saying of our Saviour, that "it is more blessed to give than to receive." By this rule, what must become of those things which the world valueth as the greatest blessings, riches, power, and the like, when our Saviour plainly determines, that the best way to make them blessings, is to part with them? Therefore, although the advantages which one man hath over another, may be called blessings, yet they are by no means so in the sense the world usually understands. Thus, for example, great riches are no blessing in themselves; because the poor man, with the common necessaries of life enjoys more health, and hath fewer cares without them: How then do they become blessings? No otherwise, than by being employed in feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, rewarding worthy men, and in short, doing acts of charity and generosity. Thus likewise, power is no blessing in itself, because private men bear less envy, and trouble, and anguish without it. But when it is employed to protect the innocent, to relieve the oppressed, and to punish the oppressor, then it becomes a great blessing. And so lastly even great wisdom is in the opinion of Solomon not a blessing in itself: For "in much wisdom is much sorrow;" and men of common understandings, if they serve God and mind their callings, make fewer mistakes in the conduct of life than those who have better heads. And yet, wisdom is a mighty blessing, when it is applied to good purposes, to instruct the ignorant, to be a faithful counsellor either in public or private, to be a director to youth, and to many other ends needless here to mention. To conclude: God sent us into the world to obey his commands, by doing as much good as our abilities will reach, and as little evil as our many infirmities will permit. Some he hath only trusted with one talent, some with five, and some with ten. No man is without his talent; and he that is faithful or negligent in a little, shall be rewarded or punished, as well as he that hath been so in a great deal. Consider what hath been said; and the Lord give you a right understanding in all things. To whom with the Son and the Holy Ghost, be all honour and glory, now and for ever. ON THE TESTIMONY OF CONSCIENCE. 2 CORINTHIANS, I. 12. PART OF IT. "----For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience." There is no word more frequently in the mouths of men, than that of conscience, and the meaning of it is in some measure generally understood: However, because it is likewise a word extremely abused by many people, who apply other meanings to it, which God Almighty never intended; I shall explain it to you in the clearest manner I am able. The word conscience properly signifies, that knowledge which a man hath within himself of his own thoughts and actions. And, because, if a man judgeth fairly of his own actions by comparing them with the law of God, his mind will either approve or condemn him according as he hath done good or evil; therefore this knowledge or conscience may properly be called both an accuser and a judge. So that whenever our conscience accuseth us, we are certainly guilty; but we are not always innocent when it doth not accuse us: For very often, through the hardness of our hearts, or the fondness and favour we bear to ourselves, or through ignorance or neglect, we do not suffer our conscience to take any cognizance of several sins we commit. There is another office likewise belonging to conscience, which is that of being our director and guide; and the wrong use of this hath been the occasion of more evils under the sun, than almost all other causes put together. For, as conscience is nothing else but the knowledge we have of what we are thinking and doing; so it can guide us no farther than that knowledge reacheth. And therefore God hath placed conscience in us to be our director only in those actions which Scripture and reason plainly tell us to be good or evil. But in cases too difficult or doubtful for us to comprehend or determine, there conscience is not concerned; because it cannot advise in what it doth not understand, nor decide where it is itself in doubt: but, by God's great mercy, those difficult points are never of absolute necessity to our salvation. There is likewise another evil, that men often say, a thing is against their conscience, when really it is not. For instance: Ask any of those who differ from the worship established, why they do not come to church? They will say, they dislike the ceremonies, the prayers, the habits, and the like, and therefore it goes against their conscience: But they are mistaken, their teacher hath put those words into their mouths; for a man's conscience can go no higher than his knowledge; and therefore until he has thoroughly examined by Scripture, and the practice of the ancient church, whether those points are blameable or no, his conscience cannot possibly direct him to condemn them. Hence have likewise arisen those mistakes about what is usually called "Liberty of Conscience"; which, properly speaking, is no more than a liberty of knowing our own thoughts; which liberty no one can take from us. But those words have obtained quite different meanings: Liberty of conscience is now-a-days not only understood to be the liberty of believing what men please, but also of endeavouring to propagate the belief as much as they can, and to overthrow the faith which the laws have already established, to be rewarded by the public for those wicked endeavours: And this is the liberty of conscience which the fanatics are now openly in the face of the world endeavouring at with their utmost application. At the same time it cannot but be observed, that those very persons, who under pretence of a public spirit and tenderness towards their Christian brethren, are so zealous for such a liberty of conscience as this, are of all others the least tender to those who differ from them in the smallest point relating to government; and I wish I could not say, that the Majesty of the living God may be offended with more security than the memory of a dead prince. But the wisdom of the world at present seems to agree with that of the heathen Emperor, who said, if the gods were offended, it was their own concern, and they were able to vindicate themselves.[1] [Footnote 1: The saying of Tiberius as given by Tacitus ("Annals," bk. i., c. lxxiii.), _Deorum offensa diis curæ_. [T.S.]] But although conscience hath been abused to those wicked purposes which I have already related, yet a due regard to the directions it plainly giveth us, as well as to its accusations, reproaches, and advices, would be of the greatest use to mankind, both for their present welfare and future happiness. Therefore, my discourse at this time shall be directed to prove to you, that there is no solid, firm foundation for virtue, but on a conscience which is guided by religion. In order to this, I shall first shew you the weakness and uncertainty of two false principles, which many people set up in the place of conscience, for a guide to their actions. The first of these principles is, what the world usually calls _Moral Honesty_. There are some people, who appear very indifferent as to religion, and yet have the repute of being just and fair in their dealings; and these are generally known by the character of good moral men. But now, if you look into the grounds and the motives of such a man's actions, you shall find them to be no other than his own ease and interest. For example: You trust a moral man with your money in the way of trade; you trust another with the defence of your cause at law, and perhaps they both deal justly with you. Why? Not from any regard they have for justice, but because their fortune depends upon their credit, and a stain of open public dishonesty must be to their disadvantage. But let it consist with such a man's interest and safety to wrong you, and then it will be impossible you can have any hold upon him; because there is nothing left to give him a check, or put in the balance against his profit. For, if he hath nothing to govern himself by, but the opinion of the world, as long as he can conceal his injustice from the world, he thinks he is safe. Besides, it is found by experience, that those men who set up for morality without regard to religion, are generally but virtuous in part; they will be just in their dealings between man and man; but if they find themselves disposed to pride, lust, intemperance, or avarice, they do not think their morality concerned to check them in any of these vices, because it is the great rule of such men, that they may lawfully follow the dictates of nature, wherever their safety, health, and fortune, are not injured. So, that upon the whole, there is hardly one vice which a mere moral man may not upon some occasions allow himself to practise. The other false principle, which some men set up in the place of conscience to be their director in life, is what those who pretend to it, call _Honour_. This word is often made the sanction of an oath; it is reckoned a great commendation to be a man of strict honour; and it is commonly understood, that a man of honour can never be guilty of a base action. This is usually the style of military men; of persons with titles; and of others who pretend to birth and quality. It is true, indeed, that in ancient times it was universally understood, that honour was the reward of virtue; but if such honour as is now-a-days going will not permit a man to do a base action, it must be allowed, there are very few such things as base actions in nature. No man of honour, as that word is usually understood, did ever pretend that his honour obliged him to be chaste or temperate; to pay his creditors; to be useful to his country; to do good to mankind; to endeavour to be wise, or learned; to regard his word, his promise, or his oath; or if he hath any of these virtues, they were never learned in the catechism of honour; which contains but two precepts, the punctual payment of debts contracted at play, and the right understanding the several degrees of an affront, in order to revenge it by the death of an adversary. But suppose, this principle of honour, which some men so much boast of, did really produce more virtues than it ever pretended to; yet since the very being of that honour dependeth upon the breath, the opinion, or the fancy of the people, the virtues derived from it could be of no long or certain duration. For example: Suppose a man from a principle of honour should resolve to be just, or chaste, or temperate; and yet the censuring world should take a humour of refusing him those characters; he would then think the obligation at an end. Or, on the other side, if he thought he could gain honour by the falsest and vilest action, (which is a case that very often happens,) he would then make no scruple to perform it. And God knows, it would be an unhappy state, to have the religion, the liberty, or the property of a people lodged in such hands, which however hath been too often the case. What I have said upon this principle of honour may perhaps be thought of small concernment to most of you who are my hearers: However, a caution was not altogether unnecessary; since there is nothing by which not only the vulgar, but the honest tradesman hath been so much deceived, as this infamous pretence to honour in too many of their betters. Having thus shewn you the weakness and uncertainty of those principles which some men set up in the place of conscience to direct them in their actions, I shall now endeavour to prove to you that there is no solid, firm foundation of virtue, but in a conscience directed by the principles of religion. There is no way of judging how far we may depend upon the actions of men, otherwise than by knowing the motives, and grounds, and causes of them; and, if the motives of our actions be not resolved and determined into the law of God, they will be precarious and uncertain, and liable to perpetual changes. I will shew you what I mean, by an example: Suppose a man thinks it his duty to obey his parents, because reason tells him so, because he is obliged by gratitude, and because the laws of his country command him to do so; but, if he stops here, his parents can have no lasting security; for an occasion may happen, wherein it may be extremely his interest to be disobedient, and where the laws of the land can lay no hold upon him: therefore, before such a man can safely be trusted, he must proceed farther, and consider, that his reason is the gift of God; that God commanded him to be obedient to the laws, and did moreover in a particular manner enjoin him to be dutiful to his parents; after which, if he lays due weight upon those considerations, he will probably continue in his duty to the end of his life: Because no earthly interest can ever come in competition to balance the danger of offending his Creator, or the happiness of pleasing him. And of all this his conscience will certainly inform him, if he hath any regard to religion. _Secondly:_ Fear and hope are the two greatest natural motives of all men's actions: But, neither of these passions will ever put us in the way of virtue, unless they be directed by conscience. For although virtuous men do sometimes accidentally make their way to preferment, yet the world is so corrupted, that no man can reasonably hope to be rewarded in it, merely upon account of his virtue. And consequently, the fear of punishment in this life will preserve men from very few vices, since some of the blackest and basest do often prove the surest steps to favour; such as ingratitude, hypocrisy, treachery, malice, subornation, atheism, and many more which human laws do little concern themselves about. But when conscience placeth before us the hopes of everlasting happiness, and the fears of everlasting misery, as the reward and punishment of our good or evil actions, our reason can find no way to avoid the force of such an argument, otherwise than by running into infidelity. _Lastly_: Conscience will direct us to love God, and to put our whole trust and confidence in him. Our love of God will inspire us with a detestation for sin, as what is of all things most contrary to his divine nature; and if we have an entire confidence in him, _that_ will enable us to subdue and despise all the allurements of the world. It may here be objected, if conscience be so sure a director to us Christians in the conduct of our lives, how comes it to pass, that the ancient heathens, who had no other lights but those of nature and reason, should so far exceed us in all manner of virtue, as plainly appears by many examples they have left on record? To which it may be answered; first, those heathens were extremely strict and exact in the education of their children; whereas among us this care is so much laid aside, that the more God hath blessed any man with estate or quality, just so much the less in proportion is the care he taketh in the education of his children, and particularly of that child which is to inherit his fortune: Of which the effects are visible enough among the great ones of the world. Again, those heathens did in a particular manner instil the principle into their children, of loving their country; which is so far otherwise now-a-days, that, of the several parties among us, there is none of them that seems to have so much as heard, whether there be such a virtue in the world; as plainly appears by their practices, and especially when they are placed in those stations where they can only have opportunity of shewing it. Lastly; the most considerable among the heathens did generally believe rewards and punishments in a life to come; which is the great principle for conscience to work upon; Whereas too many of those who would be thought the most considerable among us, do, both by their practices and their discourses, plainly affirm, that they believe nothing at all of the matter. Wherefore, since it hath manifestly appeared that a religious conscience is the only true solid foundation upon which virtue can be built, give me leave, before I conclude, to let you see how necessary such a conscience is, to conduct us in every station and condition of our lives. That a religious conscience is necessary in any station, is confessed even by those who tell us, that all religion was invented by cunning men, in order to keep the world in awe. For, if religion, by the confession of its adversaries, be necessary towards the well-governing of mankind; then every wise man in power will be sure not only to choose out for every station under him such persons as are most likely to be kept in awe by religion, but likewise to carry some appearance of it himself, or else he is a very weak politician. And accordingly in any country where great persons affect to be open despisers of religion, their counsels will be found at last to be fully as destructive to the state as to the church. It was the advice of Jethro to his son-in-law Moses, to "provide able men, such as fear God, men of truth, hating covetousness," and to place such over the people; and Moses, who was as wise a statesman, at least, as any in this age, thought fit to follow that advice. Great abilities, without the fear of God, are most dangerous instruments, when they are trusted with power. The laws of man have thought fit, that those who are called to any office of trust should be bound by an oath to the faithful discharge of it: But, an oath is an appeal to God, and therefore can have no influence except upon those who believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of those that seek him, and a punisher of those who disobey him: And therefore, we see, the laws themselves are forced to have recourse to conscience in these cases, because their penalties cannot reach the arts of cunning men, who can find ways to be guilty of a thousand injustices without being discovered, or at least without being punished. And the reason why we find so many frauds, abuses, and corruptions, where any trust is conferred, can be no other, than that there is so little conscience and religion left in the world, or at least that men in their choice of instruments have private ends in view, which are very different from the service of the public. Besides, it is certain, that men who profess to have no religion, are full as zealous to bring over proselytes as any Papist or fanatic can be. And therefore, if those who are in station high enough to be of influence or example to others; if those (I say) openly profess a contempt or disbelief of religion, they will be sure to make all their dependents of their own principles; and what security can the public expect from such persons, whenever their interests, or their lusts, come into competition with their duty? It is very possible for a man who hath the appearance of religion, and is a great pretender to conscience, to be wicked and a hypocrite; but, it is impossible for a man who openly declares against religion, to give any reasonable security that he will not be false and cruel, and corrupt, whenever a temptation offers, which he values more than he does the power wherewith he was trusted. And, if such a man doth not betray his cause and his master, it is only because the temptation was not properly offered, or the profit was too small, or the danger was too great. And hence it is, that we find so little truth or justice among us, because there are so very few, who either in the service of the public, or in common dealings with each other, do ever look farther than their own advantage, and how to guard themselves against the laws of the country; which a man may do by favour, by secrecy, or by cunning, although he breaks almost every law of God. Therefore to conclude: It plainly appears, that unless men are guided by the advice and judgment of a conscience founded on religion, they can give no security that they will be either good subjects, faithful servants of the public, or honest in their mutual dealings; since there is no other tie through which the pride, or lust, or avarice, or ambition of mankind will not certainly break one time or other. Consider what has been said, &c. ON THE TRINITY. I. EPIST. GEN. OF JOHN, V. 7. "For there are three that bear record in Heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost; and these Three are One." This day being set apart to acknowledge our belief in the Eternal Trinity, I thought it might be proper to employ my present discourse entirely upon that subject; and, I hope, to handle it in such a manner, that the most ignorant among you may return home better informed of your duty in this great point, than probably you are at present. It must be confessed, that by the weakness and indiscretion of busy (or at best, of well-meaning) people, as well as by the malice of those who are enemies to all revealed religion, and are not content to possess their own infidelity in silence, without communicating it to the disturbance of mankind; I say, by these means, it must be confessed, that the doctrine of the Trinity hath suffered very much, and made Christianity suffer along with it. For these two things must be granted: First, that men of wicked lives would be very glad there were no truth in Christianity at all; and secondly, if they can pick out any one single article in the Christian religion which appears not agreeable to their own corrupted reason, or to the arguments of those bad people, who follow the trade of seducing others, they presently conclude, that the truth of the whole Gospel must sink along with that one article; which is just as wise, as if a man should say, because he dislikes one law of his country, he will therefore observe no law at all; and yet, that one law may be very reasonable in itself, although he does not allow it, or does not know the reason of the law-givers. Thus it hath happened with the great doctrine of the Trinity; which word is indeed not in the Scripture, but was a term of art invented in the earlier times to express the doctrine by a single word, for the sake of brevity and convenience. The doctrine then, as delivered in Holy Scripture, although not exactly in the same words, is very short, and amounts only to this, that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, are each of them God, and yet there is but one God. For, as to the word Person, when we say there are three Persons; and as to those other explanations in the Athanasian Creed this day read to you (whether compiled by Athanasius or no) they were taken up three hundred years after Christ, to expound this doctrine; and I will tell you upon what occasion. About that time there sprang up a heresy of a people called Arians, from one Arius the leader of them. These denied our Saviour to be God, although they allowed all the rest of the Gospel (wherein they were more sincere than their followers among us). Thus the Christian world was divided into two parts, until at length, by the zeal and courage of St Athanasius, the Arians were condemned in a general council, and a creed formed upon the true faith, as St Athanasius hath settled it. This creed is now read at certain times in our churches, which, although it is useful for edification to those who understand it; yet, since it containeth some nice and philosophical points which few people can comprehend, the bulk of mankind is obliged to believe no more than the Scripture doctrine, as I have delivered it. Because that creed was intended only as an answer to the Arians in their own way, who were very subtle disputers. But this heresy having revived in the world about a hundred years ago, and continued ever since; not out of a zeal to truth, but to give a loose to wickedness, by throwing off all religion; several divines, in order to answer the cavils of those adversaries to truth and morality, began to find out farther explanations of this doctrine of the Trinity, by rules of philosophy; which have multiplied controversies to such a degree, as to beget scruples that have perplexed the minds of many sober Christians, who otherwise could never have entertained them. I must therefore be bold to affirm, that the method taken by many of those learned men to defend the doctrine of the Trinity, hath been founded upon a mistake. It must be allowed, that every man is bound to follow the rules and directions of that measure of reason which God hath given him; and indeed he cannot do otherwise, if he will be sincere, or act like a man. For instance: If I should be commanded by an angel from heaven to believe it is midnight at noon-day; yet I could not believe him. So, if I were directly told in Scripture that three are one, and one is three, I could not conceive or believe it in the natural common sense of that expression, but must suppose that something dark or mystical was meant, which it pleased God to conceal from me and from all the world. Thus, in the text, "There are Three that bear record," &c. Am I capable of knowing and defining what union and what distinction there may be in the divine nature, which possibly may be hid from the angels themselves? Again, I see it plainly declared in Scripture, that there is but one God; and yet I find our Saviour claiming the prerogative of God in knowing men's thoughts; in saying, "He and his Father are one;" and, "before Abraham was, I am." I read, that the disciples worshipped him; that Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God." And St John, chap, 1st, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." I read likewise that the Holy Ghost bestowed the gift of tongues, and the power of working miracles; which, if rightly considered, is as great a miracle as any, that a number of illiterate men should of a sudden be qualified to speak all the languages then known in the world; such as could be done by the inspiration of God done. From these several texts it is plain, that God commands us to believe that there is an union and there is a distinction; but what that union, or what that distinction is, all mankind are equally ignorant, and must continue so, at least till the day of judgment, without some new revelation. But because I cannot conceive the nature of this union and distinction in the divine nature, am I therefore to reject them as absurd and impossible; as I would, if any one told me that three men are one, and one man is three? We are told, that a man and his wife are one flesh; this I can comprehend the meaning of; yet, literally taken, it is a thing impossible. But the apostle tell us, "We see but in part, and we know but in part;" and yet we would comprehend all the secret ways and workings of God. Therefore I shall again repeat the doctrine of the Trinity, as it is positively affirmed in Scripture: that God is there expressed in three different names, as Father, as Son, and as Holy Ghost: that each of these is God, and that there is but one God. But this union and distinction are a mystery utterly unknown to mankind. This is enough for any good Christian to believe on this great article, without ever inquiring any farther: And, this can be contrary to no man's reason, although the knowledge of it is hid from him. But there is another difficulty of great importance among those who quarrel with the doctrine of the Trinity, as well as with several other articles of Christianity; which is, that our religion abounds in mysteries, and these they are so bold as to revile as cant, imposture, and priestcraft. It is impossible for us to determine for what reasons God thought fit to communicate some things to us in part, and leave some part a mystery. But so it is in fact, and so the Holy Scripture tells us in several places. For instance: the resurrection and change of our bodies are called mysteries by St Paul: and our Saviour's incarnation is another: The Kingdom of God is called a mystery by our Saviour, to be only known to his disciples; so is faith, and the word of God by St Paul. I omit many others. So, that to declare against all mysteries without distinction or exception, is to declare against the whole tenor of the New Testament. There are two conditions that may bring a mystery under suspicion. First, when it is not taught and commanded in Holy Writ; or, secondly, when the mystery turns to the advantage of those who preach it to others. Now, as to the first, it can never be said, that we preach mysteries without warrant from Holy Scripture, although I confess this of the Trinity may have sometimes been explained by human invention, which might perhaps better have been spared. As to the second, it will not be possible to charge the Protestant priesthood with proposing any temporal advantage to themselves by broaching or multiplying, or preaching of mysteries. Does this mystery of the Trinity, for instance, and the descent of the Holy Ghost, bring the least profit or power to the preachers? No; it is as great a mystery to themselves as it is to the meanest of their hearers; and may be rather a cause of humiliation, by putting their understanding in that point upon a level with the most ignorant of their flock. It is true indeed, the Roman church hath very much enriched herself by trading in mysteries, for which they have not the least authority from Scripture, and were fitted only to advance their own temporal wealth and grandeur; such as transubstantiation, the worshipping of images, indulgences for sins, purgatory, and masses for the dead; with many more: But, it is the perpetual talent of those who have ill-will to our Church, or a contempt for all religion, taken up by the wickedness of their lives, to charge us with the errors and corruptions of Popery, which all Protestants have thrown off near two hundred years: whereas, those mysteries held by us have no prospect of power, pomp, or wealth, but have been ever maintained by the universal body of true believers from the days of the apostles, and will be so to the resurrection; neither will the gates of hell prevail against them. It may be thought perhaps a strange thing, that God should require us to believe mysteries, while the reason or manner of what we are to believe is above our comprehension, and wholly concealed from us: neither doth it appear at first sight, that the believing or not believing them doth concern either the glory of God, or contribute to the goodness or wickedness of our lives. But this is a great and dangerous mistake. We see what a mighty weight is laid upon faith, both in the Old and New Testament. In the former we read how the faith of Abraham is praised, who could believe that God would raise from him a great nation, at the very time that he was commanded to sacrifice his only son, and despaired of any other issue. And this was to him a great mystery. Our Saviour is perpetually preaching faith to his disciples, or reproaching them with the want of it: and St Paul produceth numerous examples of the wonders done by faith. And all this is highly reasonable: For faith is an entire dependence upon the truth, the power, the justice, and the mercy of God; which dependence will certainly incline us to obey him in all things. So, that the great excellency of faith, consists in the consequence it hath upon our actions: as, if we depend upon the truth and wisdom of a man, we shall certainly be more disposed to follow his advice. Therefore, let no man think that he can lead as good a moral life without faith as with it; for this reason, because he who hath no faith, cannot, by the strength of his own reason or endeavours, so easily resist temptations, as the other who depends upon God's assistance in the overcoming his frailties, and is sure to be rewarded for ever in heaven for his victory over them. "Faith," says the apostle, "is the evidence of things not seen": he means, that faith is a virtue by which anything commanded us by God to believe appears evident and certain to us, although we do not see, nor can conceive it; because, by faith we entirely depend upon the truth and power of God. It is an old and true distinction, that things may be above our reason, without being contrary to it. Of this kind are the power, the nature, and the universal presence of God, with innumerable other points. How little do those who quarrel with mysteries, know of the commonest actions of nature! The growth of an animal, of a plant, or of the smallest seed, is a mystery to the wisest among men. If an ignorant person were told that a loadstone would draw iron at a distance, he might say it was a thing contrary to his reason, and could not believe before he saw it with his eyes. The manner whereby the soul and body are united, and how they are distinguished, is wholly unaccountable to us. We see but one part, and yet we know we consist of two; and this is a mystery we cannot comprehend, any more than that of the Trinity. From what hath been said, it is manifest that God did never command us to believe, nor his ministers to preach, any doctrine which is contrary to the reason he hath pleased to endow us with; but for his own wise ends has thought fit to conceal from us the nature of the thing he commands; thereby to try our faith and obedience, and increase our dependence upon him. It is highly probable, that if God should please to reveal unto us this great mystery of the Trinity, or some other mysteries in our holy religion, we should not be able to understand them, unless he would at the same time think fit to bestow on us some new powers or faculties of the mind, which we want at present, and are reserved till the day of resurrection to life eternal. "For now," as the apostle says, "we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face." Thus, we see, the matter is brought to this issue: We must either believe what God directly commands us in Holy Scripture, or we must wholly reject the Scripture, and the Christian religion which we pretend to profess. But this, I hope, is too desperate a step for any of us to make. I have already observed, that those who preach up the belief of the Trinity, or of any other mystery, cannot propose any temporal advantage to themselves by so doing. But this is not the case of those who oppose these doctrines. Do _they_ lead better moral lives than a good Christian? Are _they_ more just in their dealings? more chaste, or temperate, or charitable? Nothing at all of this; but on the contrary, their intent is to overthrow all religion, that they may gratify their vices without any reproach from the world, or their own conscience: and are zealous to bring over as many others as they can to their own opinions; because it is some kind of imaginary comfort to have a multitude on their side. There is no miracle mentioned in Holy Writ, which, if it were strictly examined, is not as much, contrary to common reason, and as much a mystery, as this doctrine of the Trinity; and therefore we may, with equal justice deny the truth of them all. For instance: It is against the laws of nature, that a human body should be able to walk upon the water, as St Peter is recorded to have done; or that a dead carcass should be raised from the grave after three days, when it began to be corrupted; which those who understand anatomy will pronounce to be impossible by the common rules of nature and reason. Yet these miracles, and many others, are positively affirmed in the Gospel; and these we must believe, or give up our holy religion to atheists and infidels. I shall now make a few inferences and observations upon what has been said. _First_: It would be well, if people would not lay so much weight on their own reason in matters of religion, as to think everything impossible and absurd which they cannot conceive. How often do we contradict the right rules of reason in the whole course of our lives! Reason itself is true and just, but the reason of every particular man is weak and wavering, perpetually swayed and turned by his interests, his passions, and his vices. Let any man but consider, when he hath a controversy with another, although his cause be ever so unjust, although the world be against him, how blinded he is by the love of himself, to believe that right is wrong, and wrong is right, when it maketh for his own advantage. Where is then the right use of his reason, which he so much boasts of, and which he would blasphemously set up to control the commands of the Almighty? _Secondly_: When men are tempted to deny the mysteries of religion, let them examine and search into their own hearts, whether they have not some favourite sin which is of their party in this dispute, and which is equally contrary to other commands of God in the Gospel. For, why do men love darkness rather than light? The Scripture tells us, "Because their deeds are evil;" and there can be no other reason assigned. Therefore when men are curious and inquisitive to discover some weak sides in Christianity, and inclined to favour everything that is offered to its disadvantage; it is plain they wish it were not true, and those wishes can proceed from nothing but an evil conscience; because, if there be truth in our religion, their condition must be miserable. And therefore, _Thirdly_: Men should consider, that raising difficulties concerning the mysteries in religion, cannot make them more wise, learned, or virtuous; better neighbours, or friends, or more serviceable to their country; but, whatever they pretend, will destroy their inward peace of mind, by perpetual doubts and fears arising in their breasts. And, God forbid we should ever see the times so bad, when dangerous opinions in religion will be a means to get favour and preferment; although, even in such a case, it would be an ill traffic, to gain the world, and lose our own souls. So, that upon the whole, it will be impossible to find any real use toward a virtuous or happy life, by denying the mysteries of the Gospel. _Fourthly_: Those strong unbelievers, who expect that all mysteries should be squared and fitted to their own reason, might have somewhat to say for themselves, if they could satisfy the general reason of mankind in their opinions: But herein they are miserably defective, absurd, and ridiculous; they strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel; they can believe that the world was made by chance; that God doth not concern himself with things below; will neither punish vice, nor reward virtue; that religion was invented by cunning men to keep the world in awe; with many other opinions equally false and detestable, against the common light of nature as well as reason; against the universal sentiments of all civilized nations, and offensive to the ears even of a sober heathen. _Lastly_: Since the world abounds with pestilent books particularly against this doctrine of the Trinity; it is fit to inform you, that the authors of them proceed wholly upon a mistake: They would shew how impossible it is that three can be one, and one can be three; whereas the Scripture saith no such thing, at least in that manner they would make it: but, only, that there is some kind of unity and distinction in the divine nature, which mankind cannot possibly comprehend: thus, the whole doctrine is short and plain, and in itself incapable of any controversy: since God himself hath pronounced the fact, but wholly concealed the manner. And therefore many divines, who thought fit to answer those wicked books, have been mistaken too, by answering fools in their folly; and endeavouring to explain a mystery, which God intended to keep secret from us. And, as I would exhort all men to avoid reading those wicked books written against this doctrine, as dangerous and pernicious; so I think they may omit the answers, as unnecessary. This I confess will probably affect but few or none among the generality of our congregations, who do not much trouble themselves with books, at least of this kind. However, many who do not read themselves, are seduced by others that do; and thus become unbelievers upon trust and at second-hand; and this is too frequent a case: for which reason I have endeavoured to put this doctrine upon a short and sure foot, levelled to the meanest understanding; by which we may, as the apostle directs, be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh us a reason of the hope that is in us, with meekness and fear. And, thus I have done with my subject, which probably I should not have chosen, if I had not been invited to it by the occasion of this season, appointed on purpose to celebrate the mysteries of the Trinity, and the descent of the Holy Ghost, wherein we pray to be kept stedfast in this faith; and what this faith is I have shewn you in the plainest manner I could. For, upon the whole, it is no more than this: God commandeth us, by our dependence upon His truth, and His Holy Word, to believe a fact that we do not understand. And, this is no more than what we do every day in the works of nature, upon the credit of men of learning. Without faith we can do no works acceptable to God; for, if they proceed from any other principle, they will not advance our salvation; and this faith, as I have explained it, we may acquire without giving up our senses, or contradicting our reason. May God of his infinite mercy inspire us with true faith in every article and mystery of our holy religion, so as to dispose us to do what is pleasing in his sight; and this we pray through Jesus Christ, to whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, the mysterious, incomprehensible ONE GOD, be all honour and glory now and for evermore! _Amen_. ON BROTHERLY LOVE.[1] [Footnote: 1 Notwithstanding the text and title of this sermon, and the many excellent observations which it contains in illustration of both, there are several passages in it which the dissenters of the time would hardly consider as propitiatory towards the continuance of brotherly love. There are also various allusions to the parties which raged at the time, and some which appear to have been written in defence of the preacher's character, then severely arraigned by the Irish Whigs, and held in abhorrence by the people of Dublin, by whom he was afterwards idolized. [S.]] HEB. XIII. I. "Let brotherly love continue." In the early times of the Gospel, the Christians were very much distinguished from all other bodies of men, by the great and constant love they bore to each other; which, although it was done in obedience to the frequent injunctions of our Saviour and his apostles, yet, I confess, there seemeth to have been likewise a natural reason, that very much promoted it. For the Christians then were few and scattered, living under persecution by the heathens round about them, in whose hands was all the civil and military power; and there is nothing so apt to unite the minds and hearts of men, or to beget love and tenderness, as a general distress. The first dissensions between Christians took their beginning from the errors and heresies that arose among them; many of those heresies, sometimes extinguished, and sometimes reviving, or succeeded by others, remain to this day; and having been made instruments to the pride, avarice, or ambition, of ill-designing men, by extinguishing brotherly love, have been the cause of infinite calamities, as well as corruptions of faith and manners, in the Christian world. The last legacy of Christ was peace and mutual love; but then he foretold, that he came to send a sword upon the earth: The primitive Christians accepted the legacy, and their successors down to the present age have been largely fulfilling his prophecy. But whatever the practice of mankind hath been, or still continues, there is no duty more incumbent upon those who profess the Gospel, than that of brotherly love; which, whoever could restore in any degree among men, would be an instrument of more good to human society, than ever was, or will be, done by all the statesmen and politicians in the world. It is upon this subject of brotherly love, that I intend to discourse at present, and the method I observe shall be as follows:-- I. _First_, I will inquire into the causes of this great want of brotherly love among us. II. _Secondly_, I will lay open the sad effects and consequences, which our animosities and mutual hatred have produced. III. _Lastly_, I will use some motives and exhortations, that may persuade you to embrace brotherly love, and continue in it. I. _First_, I shall enquire into the causes of this great want of brotherly love among us. This nation of ours hath, for an hundred years past, been infested by two enemies, the Papists and fanatics, who, each in their turns, filled it with blood and slaughter, and, for a time, destroyed both the Church and government. The memory of these events hath put all true Protestants equally upon their guard against both these adversaries, who, by consequence, do equally hate us. The fanatics revile us, as too nearly approaching to Popery; and the Papists condemn us, as bordering too much on fanaticism. The Papists, God be praised, are, by the wisdom of our laws, put out of all visible possibility of hurting us; besides, their religion is so generally abhorred, that they have no advocates or abettors among Protestants to assist them. But the fanatics are to be considered in another light; they have had of late years the power, the luck, or the cunning, to divide us among ourselves; they have endeavoured to represent all those who have been so bold as to oppose their errors and designs, under the character of persons disaffected to the government; and they have so far succeeded, that, now-a-days, if a clergyman happens to preach with any zeal and vehemence against the sin and danger of schism, there will not want too many, in his congregation, ready enough to censure him as hot and high-flying, an inflamer of men's minds, an enemy to moderation, and disloyal to his prince. This hath produced a formed and settled division between those who profess the same doctrine and discipline; while they who call themselves moderate are forced to widen their bottom, by sacrificing their principles and their brethren to the encroachments and insolence of dissenters, who are therefore answerable, as a principal cause of all that hatred and animosity now reigning among us. Another cause of the great want of brotherly love is the weakness and folly of too many among you of the lower sort, who are made the tools and instruments of your betters to work their designs, wherein you have no concern. Your numbers make you of use, and cunning men take the advantage, by putting words into your mouths, which you do not understand; then they fix good or ill characters to those words, as it best serves their purposes: And thus you are taught to love or hate, you know not what or why; you often suspect your best friends, and nearest neighbours, even your teacher himself, without any reason, if your leaders once taught you to call him by a name, which they tell you signifieth some very bad thing. A third cause of our great want of brotherly love seemeth to be, that this duty is not so often insisted on from the pulpit, as it ought to be in such times as these; on the contrary, it is to be doubted, whether doctrines are not sometimes delivered by an ungoverned zeal, a desire to be distinguished, or a view of interest, which produce quite different effects; when, upon occasions set apart to return thanks to God for some public blessing, the time is employed in stirring up one part of the congregation against the other, by representations of things and persons, which God, in his mercy, forgive those who are guilty of. The last cause I shall mention of the want of brotherly love is, that unhappy disposition towards politics among the trading people, which has been industriously instilled into them. In former times, the middle and lower sorts of mankind seldom gained or lost by the factions of the kingdom, and therefore were little concerned in them, further than as matter of talk and amusement; but now the meanest dealer will expect to turn the penny by the merits of his party. He can represent his neighbour as a man of dangerous principles, can bring a railing accusation against him, perhaps a criminal one, and so rob him of his livelihood, and find his own account by that much more than if he had disparaged his neighbour's goods, or defamed him as a cheat. For so it happens, that, instead of enquiring into the skill or honesty of those kind of people, the manner is now to enquire into their party, and to reject or encourage them accordingly; which proceeding hath made our people, in general, such able politicians, that all the artifice, flattery, dissimulation, diligence, and dexterity, in undermining each other, which the satirical wit of men hath charged upon courts; together with all the rage and violence, cruelty and injustice, which have been ever imputed to public assemblies; are with us (so polite are we grown) to be seen among our meanest traders and artificers in the greatest perfection. All which, as it may be matter of some humiliation to the wise and mighty of this world, so the effects thereof may, perhaps, in time, prove very different from what, I hope in charity, were ever foreseen or intended. II. I will therefore now, in the second place, lay open some of the sad effects and consequences which our animosities and mutual hatred have produced. And the first ill consequence is, that our want of brotherly love hath almost driven out all sense of religion from among us, which cannot well be otherwise; for since our Saviour laid so much weight upon his disciples loving one another, that he gave it among his last instructions; and since the primitive Christians are allowed to have chiefly propagated the faith by their strict observance of that instruction, it must follow that, in proportion as brotherly love declineth, Christianity will do so too. The little religion there is in the world, hath been observed to reside chiefly among the middle and lower sorts of people, who are neither tempted to pride nor luxury by great riches, nor to desperate courses by extreme poverty: And truly I, upon that account, have thought it a happiness, that those who are under my immediate care are generally of that condition; but where party hath once made entrance, with all its consequences of hatred, envy, partiality, and virulence, religion cannot long keep its hold in any state or degree of life whatsoever. For, if the great men of the world have been censured in all ages for mingling too little religion with their politics, what a havoc of principles must they needs make in unlearned and irregular heads; of which indeed the effects are already too visible and melancholy all over the kingdom! Another ill consequence from our want of brotherly love is, that it increaseth the insolence of the fanatics; and this partly ariseth from a mistaken meaning of the word moderation; a word which hath been much abused, and bandied about for several years past. There are too many people indifferent enough to all religion; there are many others, who dislike the clergy, and would have them live in poverty and dependence; both these sorts are much commended by the fanatics for moderate men, ready to put an end to our divisions, and to make a general union among Protestants. Many ignorant well-meaning people are deceived by these appearances, strengthened with great pretences to loyalty: and these occasions the fanatics lay hold on, to revile the doctrine and discipline of the Church, and even insult and oppress the clergy wherever their numbers or favourers will bear them out; insomuch, that one wilful refractory fanatic hath been able to disturb a whole parish for many years together. But the most moderate and favoured divines dare not own, that the word moderation, with respect to the dissenters, can be at all applied to their religion, but is purely personal or prudential. No good man repineth at the liberty of conscience they enjoy; and, perhaps a very moderate divine may think better of their loyalty than others do; or, to speak after the manner of men, may think it necessary, that all Protestants should be united against the common enemy; or out of discretion, or other reasons best known to himself, be tender of mentioning them at all. But still the errors of the dissenters are all fixed and determined, and must, upon demand, be acknowledged by all the divines of our church, whether they be called, in party phrase, high or low, moderate or violent. And further, I believe it would be hard to find many moderate divines, who, if their opinion were asked whether dissenters should be trusted with power, could, according to their consciences, answer in the affirmative; from whence it is plain, that all the stir which the fanatics have made with this word moderation, was only meant to increase our divisions, and widen them so far as to make room for themselves to get in between. And this is the only scheme they ever had (except that of destroying root and branch) for the uniting of Protestants, they so much talk of. I shall mention but one ill consequence more, which attends our want of brotherly love; that it hath put an end to all hospitality and friendship, all good correspondence and commerce between mankind. There are indeed such things as leagues and confederacies among those of the same party; but surely God never intended that men should be so limited in the choice of their friends: However, so it is in town and country, in every parish and street; the pastor is divided from his flock, the father from his son, and the house often divided against itself. Men's very natures are soured, and their passions inflamed, when they meet in party clubs, and spend their time in nothing else but railing at the opposite side; thus every man alive among us is encompassed with a million of enemies of his own country, among which his oldest acquaintance and friends, and kindred themselves, are often of the number; neither can people of different parties mix together without constraint, suspicion, or jealousy, watching every word they speak, for fear of giving offence, or else falling into rudeness and reproaches, and so leaving themselves open to the malice and corruption of informers, who were never more numerous or expert in their trade. And as a further addition to this evil, those very few, who, by the goodness and generosity of their nature, do in their own hearts despise this narrow principle of confining their friendship and esteem, their charity and good offices, to those of their own party, yet dare not discover their good inclinations, for fear of losing their favour and interest. And others again, whom God had formed with mild and gentle dispositions, think it necessary to put a force upon their own tempers, by acting a noisy, violent, malicious part, as a means to be distinguished. Thus hath party got the better of the very genius and constitution of our people; so that whoever reads the character of the English in former ages, will hardly believe their present posterity to be of the same nation or climate. III. I shall now, in the last place, make use of some motives and exhortations, that may persuade you to embrace brotherly love, and continue in it. Let me apply myself to you of the lower sort, and desire you will consider, when any of you make use of fair and enticing words to draw in customers, whether you do it for their sakes or your own. And then, for whose sakes do you think it is, that your leaders are so industrious to put into your heads all that party rage and virulence? Is it not to make you the tools and instruments, by which they work out their own designs? Has this spirit of faction been useful to any of you in your worldly concerns, except to those who have traded in whispering, backbiting, or informing, and wanted skill or honesty to thrive by fairer methods? It is no business of yours to inquire, who is at the head of armies, or of councils, unless you had power and skill to choose, neither of which is ever likely to be your case; and therefore to fill your heads with fears, and hatred of persons and things, of which it is impossible you can ever make a right judgment, or to set you at variance with your neighbour, because his thoughts are not the same as yours, is not only in a very gross manner to cheat you of your time and quiet, but likewise to endanger your souls. _Secondly_: In order to restore brotherly love, let me earnestly exhort you to stand firm in your religion; I mean, the true religion hitherto established among us, without varying in the least either to Popery on the one side, or to fanaticism on the other; and in a particular manner beware of that word, moderation; and believe it, that your neighbour is not immediately a villain, a Papist, and a traitor, because the fanatics and their adherents will not allow him to be a moderate man. Nay, it is very probable, that your teacher himself may be a loyal, pious, and able divine, without the least grain of moderation, as the word is too frequently understood. Therefore, to set you right in this matter, I will lay before you the character of a truly moderate man, and then I will give you the description of such a one as falsely pretendeth to that title. A man truly moderate is steady in the doctrine and discipline of the Church, but with a due Christian charity to all who dissent from it out of a principle of conscience; the freedom of which, he thinketh, ought to be fully allowed, as long as it is not abused, but never trusted with power. He is ready to defend with his life and fortune the Protestant succession, and the Protestant established faith, against all invaders whatsoever. He is for giving the Crown its just prerogative, and the people their just liberties. He hateth no man for differing from him in political opinions; nor doth he think it a maxim infallible, that virtue should always attend upon favour, and vice upon disgrace. These are some few lineaments in the character of a truly moderate man; let us now compare it with the description of one who usually passeth under that title. A moderate man, in the new meaning of the word, is one to whom all religion is indifferent; who although he denominates himself of the Church, regardeth it no more than a conventicle. He perpetually raileth at the body of the clergy, with exceptions only to a very few, who, he hopeth, and probably upon false grounds, are as ready to betray their rights and properties as himself. He thinketh the power of the people can never be too great, nor that of the prince too little; and yet this very notion he publisheth, as his best argument, to prove him a most loyal subject. Every opinion in government, that differeth in the least from his, tendeth directly to Popery, slavery, and rebellion. Whoever lieth under the frown of power, can, in his judgment, neither have common sense, common honesty, nor religion. Lastly, his devotion consisteth in drinking gibbets, confusion, and damnation[1]; in profanely idolizing the memory of one dead prince,[2] and ungratefully trampling upon the ashes of another.[3] [Footnote 1: The subject of these political toasts was the theme of much discussion in Ireland. [S.]] [Footnote 2: King William.] [Footnote 3: Queen Anne.] By these marks you will easily distinguish a truly moderate man from those who are commonly, but very falsely, so called; and while persons thus qualified are so numerous and so noisy, so full of zeal and industry to gain proselytes, and spread their opinions among the people, it cannot be wondered at that there should be so little brotherly love left among us. _Lastly_: It would probably contribute to restore some degree of brotherly love, if we would but consider, that the matter of those disputes, which inflame us to this degree, doth not, in its own nature, at all concern the generality of mankind. Indeed as to those who have been great gainers or losers by the changes of the world, the case is different; and to preach moderation to the first, and patience to the last, would perhaps be to little purpose: But what is that to the bulk of the people, who are not properly concerned in the quarrel, although evil instruments have drawn them into it? For, if the reasonable men on both sides were to confer opinions, they would find neither religion, loyalty, nor interest, are at all affected in this dispute. Not religion, because the members of the Church, on both sides, profess to agree in every article: Not loyalty to our prince, which is pretended to by one party as much as the other, and therefore can be no subject for debate: Not interest, for trade and industry lie open to all; and, what is further, concerns only those who have expectations from the public: So that the body of the people, if they knew their own good, might yet live amicably together, and leave their betters to quarrel among themselves, who might also probably soon come to a better temper, if they were less seconded and supported by the poor deluded multitude. I have now done with my text, which I confess to have treated in a manner more suited to the present times, than to the nature of the subject in general. That I have not been more particular in explaining the several parts and properties of this great duty of brotherly love, the apostle to the Thessalonians will plead my excuse.--"Touching brotherly love" (saith he) "ye need not that I write unto you, for ye yourselves are taught of God to love one another[4]." So that nothing remains to add, but our prayers to God, that he would please to restore and continue this duty of brotherly love or charity among us, the very bond of peace and of all virtues. [Footnote 4: 1 Thess. iv. 9.] _Nov._ 29, 1717. THE DIFFICULTY OF KNOWING ONE'S-SELF.[1] [Footnote 1: Prefixed to the issue in volume ten, "Miscellanies," 1745, is the following: "ADVERTISEMENT. "The manuscript title page of the following sermon being lost, and no memorandum writ upon it, as there were upon the others, when and where it was preached, made the editor doubtful whether he should print it as the Dean's, or not. But its being found amongst the same papers; and the hand, though writ somewhat better, bearing a great similitude to the Dean's, made him willing to lay it before the public, that they might judge whether the style and manner also does not render it still more probable to be his." [T.S.]] 2 KINGS, VIII. PART OF THE 13TH VERSE. "And Hazael said, But what, is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?" We have a very singular instance of the deceitfulness of the heart, represented to us in the person of Hazael; who was sent to the prophet Elisha, to enquire of the Lord concerning his master the King of Syria's recovery. For the man of God, having told him that the king might recover from the disorder he was then labouring under, begun to set and fasten his countenance upon him of a sudden, and to break out into the most violent expressions of sorrow, and a deep concern for it; whereupon, when Hazael, full of shame and confusion, asked, "Why weepeth my lord?" he answered, "Because I know all the evil that thou wilt do unto the children of Israel; their strongholds wilt thou set on fire, and their young men wilt thou slay with the sword, and wilt dash their children, and rip up their women with child." Thus much did the man of God say and know of him, by a light darted into his mind from heaven. But Hazael not knowing himself so well as the other did, was startled and amazed at the relation, and would not believe it possible that a man of his temper could ever run out into such enormous instances of cruelty and inhumanity. "What!" says he, "is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?" And yet, for all this, it is highly probable that he was then that man he could not imagine himself to be; for we find him, on the very next day after his return, in a very treacherous and disloyal manner murdering his own master, and usurping his kingdom; which was but a prologue to the sad tragedy which he afterwards acted upon the people of Israel. And now the case is but very little better with most men, than it was with Hazael; however it comes to pass, they are wonderfully unacquainted with their own temper and disposition, and know very little of what passes within them: For of so many proud, ambitious, revengeful, envying, and ill-natured persons, that are in the world, where is there one of them, who, although he has all the symptoms of the vice appearing upon every occasion, can look with such an impartial eye upon himself, as to believe that the imputation thrown upon him is not altogether groundless and unfair? Who, if he were told by men of a discerning spirit and a strong conjecture, of all the evil and absurd things which that false heart of his would at one time or other betray him into, would not believe as little, and wonder as much, as Hazael did before him? Thus, for instance; tell an angry person that he is weak and impotent, and of no consistency of mind; tell him, that such or such a little accident, which he may then despise and think much below a passion, shall hereafter make him say and do several absurd, indiscreet, and misbecoming things: He may perhaps own that he has a spirit of resentment within him, that will not let him be imposed on, but he fondly imagines that he can lay a becoming restraint upon it when he pleases, although 'tis ever running away with him into some indecency or other. Therefore, to bring the words of my text to our present occasion, I shall endeavour, in a further prosecution of them, to evince the great necessity of a nice and curious inspection into the several recesses of the heart, being the surest and the shortest method that a wicked man can take to reform himself: For let us but stop the fountain, and the streams will spend and waste themselves away in a very little time; but if we go about, like children, to raise a bank, and to stop the current, not taking notice all the while of the spring which continually feeds it, when the next flood of temptation rises, and breaks in upon it, then we shall find that we have begun at the wrong end of our duty, and that we are very little more the better for it, than if we had sat still, and made no advances at all. But, in order to a clearer explanation of the point, I shall speak to these following particulars:-- _First_: By endeavouring to prove, from particular instances, that man is generally the most ignorant creature in the world of himself. _Secondly_: By inquiring into the grounds and reasons of his ignorance. _Thirdly_ and _Lastly_: By proposing several advantages that do most assuredly attend a due improvement in the knowledge of ourselves. _First_, then: To prove that man is generally the most ignorant creature in the world, of himself. To pursue the heart of man through all the instances of life, in all its several windings and turnings, and under that infinite variety of shapes and appearances which it puts on, would be a difficult and almost impossible undertaking; so that I shall confine myself to such as have a nearer reference to the present occasion, and do, upon a closer view, shew themselves through the whole business of repentance. For we all know what it is to repent, but whether he repents him truly of his sins or not, who can know it? Now the great duty of repentance is chiefly made up of these two parts, a hearty sorrow for the follies and miscarriages of the time past, and a full purpose and resolution of amendment for the time to come. And now, to shew the falseness of the heart in both these parts of repentance, And _First_: As to a hearty sorrow for the sins and miscarriages of the time past. Is there a more usual thing than for a man to impose upon himself, by putting on a grave and demure countenance, by casting a severe look into his past conduct, and making some few pious and devout reflections upon it, and then to believe that he has repented to an excellent purpose, without ever letting it step forth into practice, and shew itself in a holy conversation? Nay, some persons do carry the deceit a little higher; who if they can but bring themselves to weep for their sins, they are then full of an ill-grounded confidence and security; never considering that all this may prove to be no more than the very garb and outward dress of a contrite heart, which another heart, as hard as the nether millstone, may as well put on. For tears and sighs, however in some persons they may be decent and commendable expressions of a godly sorrow, are neither necessary, nor infallible signs of a true and unfeigned repentance. Not necessary, because sometimes, and in some persons, the inward grief and anguish of the mind may be too big to be expressed by so little a thing as a tear, and then it turneth its edge inward upon the mind; and like those wounds of the body which bleed inwardly, generally proves the most fatal and dangerous to the whole body of sin: Not infallible, because a very small portion of sorrow may make some tender dispositions melt, and break out into tears; or a man may perhaps weep at parting with his sins, as he would bid the last farewell to an old friend. But there is still a more pleasant cheat in this affair, that when we find a deadness, and a strange kind of unaptness and indisposition to all impressions of religion, and that we cannot be as truly sorry for our sins as we should be, we then pretend to be sorry that we are not more sorry for them; which is not more absurd and irrational, than that a man should pretend to be very angry at a thing, because he did not know how to be angry at all. But after all, what is wanting in this part of repentance, we expect to make up in the next; and to that purpose we put on a resolution of amendment, which we take to be as firm as a house built upon a rock; so that let the floods arise, and the winds blow, and the streams beat vehemently upon it, nothing shall shake it into ruin or disorder. We doubt not, upon the strength of this resolve, to stand fast and unmoved amid the storm of a temptation; and do firmly believe, at the time we make it, that nothing in the world will ever be able to make us commit those sins over again, which we have so firmly resolved against. Thus many a time have we come to the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, with a full purpose of amendment, and with as full a persuasion of putting that same purpose into practice; and yet have we not all as often broke that good purpose, and falsified that same persuasion, by starting aside, like a broken bow, into those very sins, which we then so solemnly and so confidently declared against? Whereas had but any other person entered with us into a vow so solemn, that he had taken the Holy Sacrament upon it, I believe had he but once deceived us by breaking in upon the vow, we should hardly ever after be prevailed upon to trust that man again, though we still continue to trust our own fears, against reason and against experience. This indeed is a dangerous deceit enough, and will of course betray all those well-meaning persons into sin and folly, who are apt to take religion for a much easier thing than it is. But this is not the only mistake we are apt to run into; we do not only think sometimes that we can do more than we can do, but sometimes that we are incapable of doing less; an error of another kind indeed, but not less dangerous, arising from a diffidence and false humility. For how much a wicked man can do in the business of religion, if he would but do his best, is very often more than he can tell. Thus nothing is more common than to see a wicked man running headlong into sin and folly, against his reason, against his religion, and against his God. Tell him, that what he is going to do will be an infinite disparagement to his understanding, which, at another time, he sets no small value upon; tell him that it will blacken his reputation, which he had rather die for than lose; tell him that the pleasure of sin is short and transient, and leaves a vexatious kind of sting behind it, which will very hardly be drawn forth; tell him that this is one of those things for which God will most surely bring him to judgment, which he pretends to believe with a full assurance and persuasion: And yet for all this, he shuts his eyes against all conviction, and rusheth into the sin like a horse into battle; as if he had nothing left to do, but, like a silly child to wink hard, and to think to escape a certain and infinite mischief, only by endeavouring not to see it. And now to shew that the heart has given in a false report of the temptation, we may learn from this, that the same weak man would resist and master the same powerful temptation, upon considerations of infinitely less value than those which religion offers, nay such vile considerations, that the grace of God cannot without blasphemy be supposed to add any manner of force and efficacy to them. Thus for instance, it would be a hard matter to dress up a sin in such soft and tempting circumstances, that a truly covetous man would not resist for a considerable sum of money; when neither the hopes of heaven nor the fears of hell could make an impression upon him before. But can anything be a surer indication of the deceitfulness of the heart, than thus to shew more courage, resolution, and activity, in an ill cause, than it does in a good one? And to exert itself to better purpose, when it is to serve its own pride, or lust, or revenge, or any other passion, than when it is to serve God upon motives of the Gospel, and upon all the arguments that have ever been made use of to bring men over to religion and a good life? And thus having shewn that man is wonderfully apt to deceive and impose upon himself, in passing through the several stages of that great duty, repentance, I proceed now, in the _Second place_: To inquire into the grounds and reasons of this ignorance, _and to shew whence it comes to pass that man, the only creature in the world that can reflect and look into himself, should know so little of what passes within him, and be so very much unacquainted even with the standing dispositions and complexion of his own heart_. The prime reason of it is, because we so very seldom converse with ourselves, and take so little notice of what passes within us: For a man can no more know his own heart than he can know his own face, any other way than by reflection: He may as well tell over every feature of the smaller portions of his face without the help of a looking-glass, as he can tell all the inward bents and tendencies of his soul, those standing features and lineaments of the inward man, and know all the various changes that this is liable to from custom, from passion, and from opinion, without a very frequent use of looking within himself. For our passions and inclinations are not always upon the wing, and always moving toward their respective objects, but retire now and then into the more dark and hidden recesses of the heart, where they lie concealed for a while, until a fresh occasion calls them forth again: So that not every transient, oblique glance upon the mind can bring a man into a thorough knowledge of all its strength and weaknesses; for a man may sometimes turn the eye of the mind inward upon itself, as he may behold his natural face in a glass, and go away, "and straight forget what manner of man he was." But a man must rather sit down and unravel every action of the past day into all its circumstances and particularities, and observe how every little thing moved and affected him, and what manner of impression it made upon his heart; this done with that frequency and carefulness which the importance of the duty does require, would in a short time bring him into a nearer and more intimate acquaintance with himself. But when men instead of this do pass away months and years in a perfect slumber of the mind, without once awaking it, it is no wonder they should be so very ignorant of themselves, and know very little more of what passes within them than the very beasts which perish. But here it may not be amiss to inquire into the reasons why most men have so little conversation with themselves. And, _first:_ Because this reflection is a work and labour of the mind, and cannot be performed without some pain and difficulty: For, before a man can reflect upon himself, and look into his heart with a steady eye, he must contract his sight, and collect all his scattering and roving thoughts into some order and compass, that he may be able to take a clear and distinct view of them; he must retire from the world for a while, and be unattentive to all impressions of sense; and how hard and painful a thing must it needs be to a man of passion and infirmity, amid such a crowd of objects that are continually striking upon the sense, and soliciting the affections, not to be moved and interrupted by one or other of them. But, _Secondly:_ Another reason why we so seldom converse with ourselves, is, because the business of the world takes up all our time, and leaveth us no portion of it to spend upon this great work and labour of the mind. Thus twelve or fourteen years pass away before we can well discern good from evil; and of the rest so much goes away in sleep, so much in the proper business of our calling, that we have none to lay out upon the more serious and religious employments. Every man's life is an imperfect sort of a circle, which he repeats and runs over every day; he has a set of thoughts, desires, and inclinations, which return upon him in their proper time and order, and will very hardly be laid aside, to make room for anything new and uncommon: So that call upon him when you please, to set about the study of his own heart, and you are sure to find him pre-engaged; either he has some business to do, or some diversion to take, some acquaintance that he must visit, or some company that he must entertain, or some cross accident has put him out of humour, and unfitted him for such a grave employment. And thus it cometh to pass that a man can never find leisure to look into himself, because he does not set apart some portion of the day for that very purpose, but foolishly defers it from one day to another, till his glass is almost run out, and he is called to give a miserable account of himself in the other world. But, _Thirdly_, Another reason why a man does not more frequently converse with himself, is, because such conversation with his own heart may discover some vice or some infirmity lurking within him, which he is very unwilling to believe himself guilty of. For can there be a more ungrateful thing to a man, than to find that upon a nearer view he is not that person he took himself to be? That he had neither the courage, nor the honesty, nor the piety, nor the humility that he dreamed he had? That a very little pain, for instance, putteth him out of patience, and as little pleasure softens and disarms him into ease and wantonness? That he has been at more pains, and labour, and cost, to be revenged of an enemy, than to oblige the best friend he has in the world? That he cannot bring himself to say his prayers, without a great deal of reluctancy; and when he does say them, the spirit and fervour of devotion evaporate in a very short time, and he can scarcely hold out a prayer of ten lines, without a number of idle and impertinent, if not vain and wicked thoughts coming into his head? These are very unwelcome discoveries that a man may make of himself; so that 'tis no wonder that every one who is already flushed with a good opinion of himself, should rather study how to run away from it, than how to converse with his own heart. But further, if a man were both able and willing to retire into his own heart, and to set apart some portion of the day for that very purpose; yet he is still disabled from passing a fair and impartial judgment upon himself, by several difficulties, arising partly from prejudice and prepossession, partly from the lower appetites and inclinations. And, _First_: That the business of prepossession may lead and betray a man into a false judgment of his own heart. For we may observe, that the first opinion we take up of anything, or any person, does generally stick close to us; the nature of the mind being such, that it cannot but desire, and consequently endeavour to have some certain principles to go upon, something fixed and unmoveable, whereon it may rest and support itself. And hence it comes to pass, that some persons are with so much difficulty brought to think well of a man they have once entertained an ill opinion of: and perhaps that too for a very absurd and unwarrantable reason. But how much more difficult then must it be for a man, who takes up a fond opinion of his own heart long before he has either years or sense enough to understand it, either to be persuaded out of it by himself, whom he loveth so well, or by another, whose interest or diversion it may be to make him ashamed of himself! Then, _Secondly_: As to the difficulties arising from the inferior appetites and inclinations, let any man look into his own heart, and observe in how different a light, and under what different complexions, any two sins of equal turpitude and malignity do appear to him, if he has but a strong inclination to the one, and none at all to the other. That which he has an inclination to, is always drest up in all the false beauty that a fond and busy imagination can give it; the other appears naked and deformed, and in all the true circumstances of folly and dishonour. Thus stealing is a vice that few gentlemen are inclined to; and they justly think it below the dignity of a man to stoop to so base and low a sin; but no principle of honour, no workings of the mind and conscience, not the still voice of mercy, not the dreadful call of judgment, nor any considerations whatever, can put a stop to that violence and oppression, that pride and ambition, that revelling and wantonness, which we every day meet with in the world. Nay, it is easy to observe very different thoughts in a man, of the sin that he is most fond of, according to, the different ebbs and flows of his inclination to it For as soon as the appetite is alarmed, and seizeth upon the heart, a little cloud gathereth about the head, and spreads a kind of darkness over the face of the soul, whereby 'tis hindered from taking a clear and distinct view of things; but no sooner is the appetite tired and satiated, but the same cloud passes away like a shadow, and a new light springing up in the mind of a sudden, the man sees much more, both of the folly and of the danger of the sin, than he did before. And thus having done with the several reasons why man, the only creature in the world that can reflect and look into himself, is so very ignorant of what passes within him, and so much unacquainted with the standing dispositions and complexions of his own heart: I proceed now, in the _Third_ and _Last_ place, to lay down several advantages, that do _most assuredly_ attend a due improvement in the knowledge of ourselves. And, _First_: One great advantage is, that it tends very much to mortify and humble a man into a modest and low opinion of himself. For let a man take a nice and curious inspection into all the several regions of the heart, and observe every thing irregular and amiss within him: for instance, how narrow and short-sighted a thing is the understanding; upon how little reason do we take up an opinion, and upon how much less sometimes do we lay it down again, how weak and false ground do we often walk upon with the biggest confidence and assurance, and how tremulous and doubtful are we very often where no doubt is to be made. Again; how wild and impertinent, how busy and incoherent a thing is the imagination, even in the best and wisest men; insomuch that every man may be said to be mad, but every man does not shew it. Then as to the passions; how noisy, how turbulent, and how tumultuous are they, how easy they are stirred and set a-going, how eager and hot in the pursuit, and what strange disorder and confusion do they throw a man into; so that he can neither think, nor speak, nor act as he should do, while he is under the dominion of any one of them. Thus let every man look with a severe and impartial eye into all the distinct regions of the heart, and no doubt, several deformities and irregularities, that he never thought of, will open and disclose themselves upon so near a view; and rather make the man ashamed of himself, than proud. _Secondly:_ A due improvement in the knowledge of ourselves does certainly secure us from the sly and insinuating assaults of flattery. There is not in the world a baser and more hateful thing than flattery; it proceeds from so much falseness and insincerity in the man that gives it, and often discovers so much weakness and folly in the man that takes it, that it is hard to tell which of the two is most to be blamed. Every man of common sense can demonstrate in speculation, and may be fully convinced, that all the praises and commendations of the whole world can add no more to the real and intrinsic value of a man, than they can add to his stature. And yet, for all this, men of the best sense and piety, when they come down to the practice, cannot forbear thinking much better of themselves, when they have the good fortune to be spoken well of by other persons. But the meaning of this absurd proceeding seems to be no other than this; there are few men that have so intimate an acquaintance with their own heart, as to know their own real worth, and how to set a just rate upon themselves, and therefore they do not know but that he who praises them most, may be most in the right of it. For, no doubt, if a man were ignorant of the true value of a thing he loved as well as himself, he would measure the worth of it according to the esteem of him who bids most for it, rather than of him that bids less. Therefore, the most infallible way to disentangle a man from the snares of flattery, is, to consult and study his own heart; for whoever does that well, will hardly be so absurd, as to take another man's word, before his own sense and experience. _Thirdly:_ Another advantage from this kind of study, is this, that it teaches a man how to behave himself patiently, when he has the ill fortune to be censured and abused by other people. For a man who is thoroughly acquainted with his own heart, does already know more evil of himself, than anybody else can tell him; and when any one speaks ill of him, he rather thanks God that he can say no worse. For could his enemy but look into the dark and hidden recesses of the heart, he considers what a number of impure thoughts he might there see brooding and hovering, like a dark cloud, upon the face of the soul; that there he might take a prospect of the fancy, and view it acting over the several scenes of pride, of ambition, of envy, of lust, and revenge; that there he might tell how often a vicious inclination has been restrained, for no other reason but just to save the man's credit or interest in the world; and how many unbecoming ingredients have entered into the composition of his best actions. And now, what man in the whole world would be able to bear so severe a test, to have every thought and inward motion of the heart laid open and exposed to the views of his enemies? But, _Fourthly_, and _Lastly:_ Another advantage of this kind is, that it makes men less severe upon other people's faults, and less busy and industrious in spreading them. For a man, employed at home, inspecting into his own failings, has not leisure to take notice of every little spot and blemish that lies scattered upon others. Or if he cannot escape the sight of them, he always passes the most easy and favourable construction upon them. Thus, for instance; does the ill he knows of a man proceed from an unhappy temper and constitution of body? He then considers with himself, how hard a thing it is, not to be borne down with the current of the blood and spirits, and accordingly lays some part of the blame upon the weakness of human nature, for he has felt the force and rapidity of it within his own breast; though perhaps, in another instance, he remembers how it rages and swells by opposition; and though it may be restrained, or diverted for a while, yet it can hardly ever be totally subdued. Or has the man sinned out of custom? He then, from his own experience, traces a habit into the very first rise and imperfect beginnings of it; and can tell by how slow and insensible advances it creeps upon the heart; how it works itself by degrees into the very frame and texture of it, and so passes into a second nature; and consequently he has a just sense of the great difficulty for him to learn to do good, who has been long accustomed to do evil. Or, lastly, has a false opinion betrayed him into a sin? He then calls to mind what wrong apprehensions he has made of some things himself; how many opinions, that he once made no doubt of, he has, upon a stricter examination found to be doubtful and uncertain; how many more to be unreasonable and absurd. He knows further, that there are a great many more opinions that he has never yet examined into at all, and which, however, he still believes, for no other reason, but because he has believed them so long already without a reason. Thus, upon every occasion, a man intimately acquainted with himself, consults his own heart, and makes every man's case to be his own, (and so puts the most favourable interpretation upon it). Let every man therefore look into his own heart, before he beginneth to abuse the reputation of another, and then he will hardly be so absurd as to throw a dart that will so certainly rebound and wound himself. And thus, through the whole course of his conversation, let him keep an eye upon that one great comprehensive rule of Christian duty, on which hangs, not only the law and the prophets, but the very life and spirit of the Gospel too: "Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them." Which rule, that we may all duly observe, by throwing aside all scandal and detraction, all spite and rancour, all rudeness and contempt, all rage and violence, and whatever tends to make conversation and commerce either uneasy, or troublesome, may the God of peace grant for Jesus Christ his sake, &c. Consider what has been said, &c. ON FALSE WITNESS. EXODUS, XX. 16. "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour." In those great changes that are made in a country by the prevailing of one party over another, it is very convenient that the prince, and those who are in authority under him, should use all just and proper methods for preventing any mischief to the public from seditious men. And governors do well, when they encourage any good subject to discover (as his duty obligeth him) whatever plots or conspiracies may be anyway dangerous to the state: Neither are they to be blamed, even when they receive informations from bad men, in order to find out the truth, when it concerns the public welfare. Every one indeed is naturally inclined to have an ill opinion of an informer; although it is not impossible but an honest man may be called by that name. For whoever knoweth anything, the telling of which would prevent some great evil to his prince, his country, or his neighbour, is bound in conscience to reveal it. But the mischief is, that, when parties are violently enflamed, which seemeth unfortunately to be our case at present, there is never wanting a set of evil instruments, who, either out of mad zeal, private hatred, or filthy lucre, are always ready to offer their service to the prevailing side, and become accusers of their brethren, without any regard to truth or charity. Holy David numbers this among the chief of his sufferings; "False witnesses are risen up against me, and such as breathe out cruelty."[1] Our Saviour and his apostles did likewise undergo the same distress, as we read both in the Gospels and the Acts. [Footnote 1: Psalm xxvii. 12.] Now, because the sign of false witnessing is so horrible and dangerous in itself, and so odious to God and man; and because the bitterness of too many among us is risen to such a height, that it is not easy to know where it will stop, or how far some weak and wicked minds may be carried by a mistaken zeal, a malicious temper, or hope of reward, to break this great commandment delivered in the text; therefore, in order to prevent this evil, and the consequences of it, at least among you who are my hearers, I shall, I. _First_: Shew you several ways by which a man may be called a false witness against his neighbour. II. _Secondly_: I shall give you some rules for your conduct and behaviour, in order to defend yourselves against the malice and cunning of false accusers. III. And _lastly_: I shall conclude with shewing you very briefly, how far it is your duty, as good subjects and good neighbours, to bear faithful witness, when you are lawfully called to it by those in authority, or by the sincere advice of your own consciences, I. As to the first, there are several ways by which a man may be justly called a false witness against his neighbour. _First_, According to the direct meaning of the word, when a man accuseth his neighbour without the least ground of truth. So we read, that Jezebel hired two sons of Belial to accuse Naboth for blaspheming God and the King, for which, although he was entirely innocent, he was stoned to death.[2] And in our age it is not easy, to tell how many men have lost their lives, been ruined in their fortunes, and put to ignominious punishment by the downright perjury of false witnesses! The law itself in such cases being not able to protect the innocent. But this is so horrible a crime, that it doth not need to be aggravated by words. [Footnote 2: i Kings, xxi. 8-13.] A second way by which a man becometh a false witness is, when he mixeth falsehood and truth together, or concealeth some circumstances, which, if they were told; would destroy the falsehoods he uttereth. So the two false witnesses who accused our Saviour before the chief priests, by a very little perverting his words, would have made him guilty of a capital crime: for so it was among the Jews to prophesy any evil against the Temple: "This fellow said, I am able to destroy the temple of God, and to build it in three days;"[3] whereas the words, as our Saviour spoke them, were to another end, and differently expressed: For when the Jews asked him to shew them a sign, he said, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." In such cases as these, an innocent man is half confounded, and looketh as if he were guilty, since he neither can deny his words, nor perhaps readily strip them from the malicious additions of a false witness. [Footnote 3: Mat. xxvi. 6] _Thirdly_: A man is a false witness, when, in accusing his neighbour, he endeavoureth to aggravate by his gestures and tone of his voice, or when he chargeth a man with words which were only repeated or quoted from somebody else. As if any one should tell me that he heard another speak certain dangerous and seditious speeches, and I should immediately accuse him for speaking them himself; and so drop the only circumstance that made him innocent. This was the case of St Stephen. The false witness said, "This man ceaseth not to speak blasphemous words against this holy place and the law."[4] Whereas St Stephen said no such words; but only repeated some prophecies of Jeremiah or Malachi, which threatened Jerusalem with destruction if it did not repent. However, by the fury of the people, this innocent holy person was stoned to death for words he never spoke. [Footnote 4: Acts, vi. 13.] _Fourthly_: The blackest kind of false witnesses are those who do the office of the devil, by tempting their brethren in order to betray them. I cannot call to mind any instances of this kind mentioned in Holy Scripture. But I am afraid, this vile practice hath been too much followed in the world. When a man's temper hath been so soured by misfortunes and hard usage, that perhaps he hath reason enough to complain; then one of these seducers, under the pretence of friendship, will seem to lament his case, urge the hardships he hath suffered, and endeavour to raise his passions, until he hath said something that a malicious informer can pervert or aggravate against him in a court of justice. _Fifthly_: Whoever beareth witness against his neighbour, out of a principle of malice and revenge, from any old grudge, or hatred to his person; such a man is a false witness in the sight of God, although what he says be true; because the motive or cause is evil, not to serve his prince or country, but to gratify his own resentments. And therefore, although a man thus accused may be very justly punished by the law, yet this doth by no means acquit the accuser, who, instead of regarding the public service, intended only to glut his private rage and spite. _Sixthly_: I number among false witnesses, all those who make a trade of being informers in hope of favour or reward; and to this end employ their time, either by listening in public places, to catch up an accidental word; or in corrupting men's servants to discover any unwary expression of their master; or thrusting themselves into company, and then using the most indecent scurrilous language; fastening a thousand falsehoods and scandals upon a whole party, on purpose to provoke such an answer as they may turn to an accusation. And truly this ungodly race is said to be grown so numerous, that men of different parties can hardly converse together with any security. Even the pulpit hath not been free from the misrepresentation of these informers; of whom the clergy have not wanted occasions to complain with holy David: "They daily mistake my words, all they imagine is to do me evil." Nor is it any wonder at all, that this trade of informing should be now in a flourishing condition, since our case is manifestly thus: We are divided into two parties, with very little charity or temper toward each other; the prevailing side may talk of past things as they please, with security; and generally do it in the most provoking words they can invent; while those who are down, are sometimes tempted to speak in favour of a lost cause, and therefore, without great caution, must needs be often caught tripping, and thereby furnish plenty of materials for witnesses and informers. _Lastly_: Those may be well reckoned among false witnesses against their neighbour, who bring him into trouble and punishment by such accusations as are of no consequence at all to the public, nor can be of any other use but to create vexation. Such witnesses are those who cannot hear an idle intemperate expression, but they must immediately run to the magistrate to inform; or perhaps wrangling in their cups over night, when they were not able to speak or apprehend three words of common sense, will pretend to remember everything the next morning, and think themselves very properly qualified to be accusers of their brethren. God be thanked, the throne of our King[5] is too firmly settled to be shaken by the folly and rashness of every sottish companion. And I do not in the least doubt, that when those in power begin to observe the falsehood, the prevarication, the aggravating manner, the treachery and seducing, the malice and revenge, the love of lucre, and lastly, the trifling accusations in too many wicked people, they will be as ready to discourage every sort of those whom I have numbered among false witnesses, as they will be to countenance honest men, who, out of a true zeal to their prince and country, do, in the innocence of their hearts, freely discover whatever they may apprehend to be dangerous to either. A good Christian will think it sufficient to reprove his brother for a rash unguarded word, where there is neither danger nor evil example to be apprehended; or, if he will not amend by reproof, avoid his conversation. [Footnote 5: George I.] II. And thus much may serve to shew the several ways whereby a man may be said to be a false witness against his neighbour. I might have added one kind more, and it is of those who inform against their neighbour out of fear of punishment to themselves, which, although it be more excusable, and hath less of malice than any of the rest, cannot, however, be justified. I go on, therefore, upon the second head, to give you some rules for your conduct and behaviour, in order to defend yourselves against the malice and cunning of false accusers. It is readily agreed, that innocence is the best protection in the world; yet that it is not always sufficient without some degree of prudence, our Saviour himself intimateth to us, by instructing his disciples "to be wise as serpents, as well as innocent as doves." But if ever innocence be too weak a defence, it is chiefly so in jealous and suspicious times, when factions are arrived to an high pitch of animosity, and the minds of men, instead of being warmed by a true zeal for religion, are inflamed only by party fury. Neither is virtue itself a sufficient security in such times, because it is not allowed to be virtue, otherwise than as it hath a mixture of party. However, although virtue and innocence are no infallible defence against perjury, malice, and subornation, yet they are great supports for enabling us to bear those evils with temper and resignation; and it is an unspeakable comfort to a good man under the malignity of evil mercenary tongues, that a few years will carry his appeal to an higher tribunal, where false witnesses, instead of daring to bring accusations before an all-seeing Judge, will call for mountains to cover them. As for earthly judges, they seldom have it in their power; and, God knows, whether they have it in their will, to mingle mercy with justice; they are so far from knowing the hearts of the accuser or the accused, that they cannot know their own; and their understanding is frequently biassed, although their intentions be just. They are often prejudiced to causes, parties, and persons, through the infirmity of human nature, without being sensible themselves that they are so: And therefore, although God may pardon their errors here, he certainly will not ratify their sentences hereafter. However, since as we have before observed, our Saviour prescribeth to us to be not only harmless as doves, but wise as serpents; give me leave to prescribe to you some rules, which the most ignorant person may follow for the conduct of his life, with safety in perilous times, against false accusers. 1st, Let me advise you to have nothing at all to do with that which is commonly called politics, or the government of the world, in the nature of which it is certain you are utterly ignorant, and when your opinion is wrong, although it proceeds from ignorance, it shall be an accusation against you. Besides, opinions in government are right or wrong, just according to the humour and disposition of the times; and, unless you have judgment to distinguish, you may be punished at one time for what you would be rewarded in another. 2dly, Be ready at all times, in your words and actions, to shew your loyalty to the king that reigns over you. This is the plain manifest doctrine of Holy Scripture: "Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake, whether it be to the king as supreme," &c.[6] And another apostle telleth us, "The powers that be are ordained of God." Kings are the ordinances of man by the permission of God, and they are ordained of God by his instrument man. The powers that be, the present powers, which are ordained by God, and yet in some sense are the ordinances of man, are what you must obey, without presuming to examine into rights and titles; neither can it be reasonably expected, that the powers in being, or in possession, should suffer their title to be publicly disputed by subjects without severe punishment. And to say the truth, there is no duty in religion more easy to the generality of mankind, than obedience to government: I say to the generality of mankind; because while their law, and property, and religion are preserved, it is of no great consequence to them by whom they are governed, and therefore they are under no temptation to desire a change. [Footnote 6: I Peter, ii. 13.] 3dly, In order to prevent any charge from the malice of false witnesses, be sure to avoid intemperance. If it be often so hard for men to govern their tongues when they are in their right senses, how can they hope to do it when they are heated with drink? In those cases most men regard not what they say, and too many not what they swear; neither will a man's memory, disordered with drunkenness, serve to defend himself, or satisfy him whether he were guilty or no. 4thly, Avoid, as much as possible, the conversation of those people, who are given to talk of public persons and affairs, especially of those whose opinions in such matters are different from yours. I never once knew any disputes of this kind managed with tolerable temper; but on both sides they only agree as much as possible to provoke the passions of each other, indeed with this disadvantage, that he who argueth on the side of power may speak securely the utmost his malice can invent; while the other lieth every moment at the mercy of an informer; and the law, in these cases, will give no allowance at all for passion, inadvertency, or the highest provocation. I come now in the last place to shew you how far it is your duty as good subjects and good neighbours to bear faithful witness, when you are lawfully called to it by those in authority, or by the sincere advice of your own consciences. In what I have hitherto said, you easily find, that I do not talk of bearing witness in general, which is and may be lawful upon a thousand accounts in relation to property and other matters, and wherein there are many scandalous corruptions, almost peculiar to this country, which would require to be handled by themselves. But I have confined my discourse only to that branch of bearing false witness, whereby the public is injured in the safety or honour of the prince, or those in authority under him. In order therefore to be a faithful witness, it is first necessary that a man doth not undertake it from the least prospect of any private advantage to himself. The smallest mixture of that leaven will sour the whole lump. Interest will infallibly bias his judgment, although he be ever so firmly resolved to say nothing but truth. He cannot serve God and Mammon; but as interest is his chief end, he will use the most effectual means to advance it. He will aggravate circumstances to make his testimony valuable; he will be sorry if the person he accuseth should be able to clear himself; in short, he is labouring a point which he thinks necessary to his own good; and it would be a disappointment to him, that his neighbour should prove innocent. 5thly, Every good subject is obliged to bear witness against his neighbour, for any action or words, the telling of which would be of advantage to the public, and the concealment dangerous, or of ill example. Of this nature are all plots and conspiracies against the peace of a nation, all disgraceful words against a prince, such as clearly discover a disloyal and rebellious heart: But where our prince and country can possibly receive no damage or disgrace; where no scandal or ill example is given; and our neighbour, it may be, provoked by us, happeneth privately to drop a rash or indiscreet word, which in strictness of law might bring him under trouble, perhaps to his utter undoing; there we are obliged, we ought, to proceed no further than warning and reproof. In describing to you the several kinds of false witnesses, I have made it less necessary to dwell much longer upon this head; because a faithful witness like everything else is known by his contrary: Therefore it would be only a repetition of what I have already said to tell you, that the strictest truth is required in a witness; that he should be wholly free from malice against the person he accuses; that he should not aggravate the smallest circumstance against the criminal, nor conceal the smallest in his favour; and to crown all, though I have hinted it before, that the only cause or motive of his undertaking an office, so subject to censure, and so difficult to perform, should be the safety and service of his prince and country. Under these conditions and limitations (but not otherwise,) there is no manner of doubt but a good man may lawfully and justly become a witness in behalf of the public, and may perform that office (in its own nature not very desirable) with honour and integrity. For the command in the text is positive as well as negative; that is to say, as we are directed not to bear false witness against our neighbour, so we are to bear true. Next to the word of God, and the advice of teachers, every man's conscience, strictly examined, will be his best director in this weighty point; and to that I shall leave him. It might perhaps be thought proper to have added something by way of advice to those who are unhappily engaged in this abominable trade and sin of bearing false witness; but I am far from believing or supposing any of that destructive tribe are now my hearers. I look upon them as a sort of people that seldom frequent these holy places, where they can hardly pick up any materials to serve their turn, unless they think it worth their while to misrepresent or pervert the words of the preacher: And whoever is that way disposed, I doubt, cannot be in a very good condition to edify and reform himself by what he heareth. God in his mercy preserve us from all the guilt of this grievous sin forbidden in my text, and from the snares of those who are guilty of it! I shall conclude with one or two precepts given by Moses, from God, to the children of Israel, in the xxiiid of Exod. 1, 2. "Thou shalt not raise a false report: Put not thine hand with the wicked, to be an unrighteous witness. "Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do evil, neither shalt them speak in a cause to decline after many, to wrest judgment." Now to God the Father, &c. ON THE WISDOM OF THIS WORLD.[1] [Footnote 1: The title of this sermon as given in Contents of Swift's "Works," vol. viii., pt. i. (4to, 1765) is, "A Sermon upon the Excellence of Christianity in Opposition to Heathen Philosophy." [T.S.]] I COR. III. 19. "The wisdom of this world is foolishness with God." It is remarkable that, about the time of our Saviour's coming into the world, all kinds of learning flourished to a very great degree, insomuch that nothing is more frequent in the mouths of many men, even such who pretend to read and to know, than an extravagant praise and opinion of the wisdom and virtue of the Gentile sages of those days, and likewise of those ancient philosophers who went before them, whose doctrines are left upon record either by themselves or other writers. As far as this may be taken for granted, it may be said, that the providence of God brought this about for several very wise ends and purposes: For, it is certain that these philosophers had been a long time before searching out where to fix the true happiness of man; and, not being able to agree upon any certainty about it, they could not possibly but conclude, if they judged impartially, that all their enquiries were, in the end, but vain and fruitless; the consequence of which must be not only an acknowledgment of the weakness of all human wisdom, but likewise an open passage hereby made, for the letting in those beams of light, which the glorious sunshine of the Gospel then brought into the world, by revealing those hidden truths, which they had so long before been labouring to discover, and fixing the general happiness of mankind beyond all controversy and dispute. And therefore the providence of God wisely suffered men of deep genius and learning then to arise, who should search into the truth of the Gospel now made known, and canvass its doctrines with all the subtilty and knowledge they were masters of, and in the end freely acknowledge that to be the true wisdom only "which cometh from above." (James, iii. 15, 16, 17.) However, to make a further enquiry into the truth of this observation, I doubt not but there is reason to think that a great many of those encomiums given to ancient philosophers are taken upon trust, and by a sort of men who are not very likely to be at the pains of an enquiry that would employ so much time and thinking. For the usual ends why men affect this kind of discourse, appear generally to be either out of ostentation, that they may pass upon the world for persons of great knowledge and observation; or, what is worse, there are some who highly exalt the wisdom of those Gentile sages, thereby obliquely to glance at and traduce Divine Revelation, and more especially that of the Gospel; for the consequence they would have us draw is this: That, since those ancient philosophers rose to a greater pitch of wisdom and virtue than was ever known among Christians, and all this purely upon the strength of their own reason and liberty of thinking, therefore it must follow, that either all Revelation is false, or, what is worse, that it has depraved the nature of man, and left him worse than it found him. But this high opinion of heathen wisdom is not very ancient in the world, nor at all countenanced from primitive times: Our Saviour had but a low esteem of it, as appears by His treatment of the Pharisees and Sadducees, who followed the doctrines of Plato and Epicurus. St Paul likewise, who was well versed in all the Grecian literature, seems very much to despise their philosophy, as we find in his writings, cautioning the Colossians to "beware lest any man spoil them through philosophy and vain deceit." And, in another place, he advises Timothy to "avoid profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science, falsely so called;" that is, not to introduce into the Christian doctrine the janglings of those vain philosophers, which they would pass upon the world for science. And the reasons he gives are, first, That those who professed them did err concerning the faith: Secondly, Because the knowledge of them did encrease ungodliness, vain babblings being otherways expounded vanities, or empty sounds; that is, tedious disputes about words, which the philosophers were always so full of, and which were the natural product of disputes and dissensions between several sects. Neither had the primitive fathers any great or good opinion of the heathen philosophy, as it is manifest from several passages in their writings: So that this vein of affecting to raise the reputation of those sages so high, is a mode and a vice but of yesterday, assumed chiefly, as I have said, to disparage revealed knowledge, and the consequences of it among us. Now, because this is a prejudice which may prevail with some persons, so far as to lessen the influence of the Gospel, and whereas therefore this is an opinion which men of education are like to be encountered with, when they have produced themselves into the world; I shall endeavour to shew that their preference of heathen wisdom and virtue, before that of the Christian, is every way unjust, and grounded upon ignorance or mistake: In order to which I shall consider four things. _First_, I shall produce certain points, wherein the wisdom and virtue of all unrevealed philosophy in general, fell short, and was very imperfect. _Secondly_, I shall shew, in several instances, where some of the most renowned philosophers have been grossly defective in their lessons of morality. _Thirdly_, I shall prove the perfection of Christian wisdom, from the proper characters and marks of it. _Lastly_, I shall shew that the great examples of wisdom and virtue among the heathen wise men, were produced by personal merit, and not influenced by the doctrine of any sect; whereas, in Christianity, it is quite the contrary. _First_, I shall produce certain points, wherein the wisdom and virtue of all unrevealed philosophy in general fell short, and was very imperfect. My design is to persuade men, that Christian philosophy is in all things preferable to heathen wisdom; from which, or its professors, I shall however have no occasion to detract. They were as wise and as good as it was possible for them under such disadvantages, and would have probably been infinitely more with such aids as we enjoy: But our lessons are certainly much better, however our practices may fail short. The first point I shall mention is that universal defect which was in all their schemes, that they could not agree about their chief good, or wherein to place the happiness of mankind, nor had any of them a tolerable answer upon this difficulty, to satisfy a reasonable person. For, to say, as the most plausible of them did, that happiness consisted in virtue, was but vain babbling, and a mere sound of words, to amuse others and themselves; because they were not agreed what this virtue was, or wherein it did consist; and likewise, because several among the best of them taught quite different things, placing happiness in health or good fortune, in riches or in honour, where all were agreed that virtue was not, as I shall have occasion to shew, when I speak of their particular tenets. The second great defect in the Gentile philosophy was, that it wanted some suitable reward proportioned to the better part of man, his mind, as an encouragement for his progress in virtue. The difficulties they met with upon the score of this default were great, and not to be accounted for: Bodily goods, being only suitable to bodily wants, are no rest at all for the mind; and, if they were, yet are they not the proper fruits of wisdom and virtue, being equally attainable by the ignorant and wicked. Now, human nature is so constituted, that we can never pursue anything heartily but upon hopes of a reward. If we run a race, it is in expectation of a prize, and the greater the prize the faster we run; for an incorruptible crown, if we understand it and believe it to be such, more than a corruptible one. But some of the philosophers gave all this quite another turn, and pretended to refine so far, as to call virtue its own reward, and worthy to be followed only for itself: Whereas, if there be anything in this more than the sound of the words, it is at least too abstracted to become a universal influencing principle in the world, and therefore could not be of general use. It was the want of assigning some happiness, proportioned to the soul of man, that caused many of them, either, on the one hand, to be sour and morose, supercilious and untreatable; or, on the other, to fall into the vulgar pursuits of common men, to hunt after greatness and riches, to make their court, and to serve occasions; as Plato did to the younger Dionysius, and Aristotle to Alexander the Great. So impossible is it for a man, who looks no further than the present world, to fix himself long in a contemplation where the present world has no part: He has no sure hold, no firm footing; he can never expect to remove the earth he rests upon, while he has no support beside for his feet, but wants, like Archimedes, some other place whereon to stand. To talk of bearing pain and grief, without any sort of present or future hope, cannot be purely greatness of spirit; there must be a mixture in it of affectation, and an alloy of pride, or perhaps is wholly counterfeit. It is true there has been all along in the world a notion of rewards and punishments in another life; but it seems to have rather served as an entertainment to poets, or as a terror of children, than a settled principle, by which men pretended to govern any of their actions. The last celebrated words of Socrates, a little before his death, do not seem to reckon or build much upon any such opinion; and Cæsar made no scruple to disown it, and ridicule it in open senate. _Thirdly_, The greatest and wisest of all their philosophers were never able to give any satisfaction, to others and themselves, in their notions of a Deity. They were often extremely gross and absurd in their conceptions; and those who made the fairest conjectures are such as were generally allowed by the learned to have seen the system of Moses, if I may so call it, who was in great reputation at that time in the heathen world, as we find by Diodonis, Justin, Longinus, and other authors; for the rest, the wisest among them laid aside all notions after a Deity, as a disquisition vain and fruitless, which indeed it was, upon unrevealed principles; and those who ventured to engage too far fell into incoherence and confusion. _Fourthly_, Those among them who had the justest conceptions of a Divine Power, and did also admit a Providence, had no notion at all of entirely relying and depending upon either; they trusted in themselves for all things: But, as for a trust or dependence upon God, they would not have understood the phrase; it made no part of the profane style. Therefore it was, that, in all issues and events, which they could not reconcile to their own sentiments of reason and justice, they were quite disconcerted: They had no retreat; but, upon every blow of adverse fortune, either affected to be indifferent, or grew sullen and severe, or else yielded and sunk like other men. Having now produced certain points, wherein the wisdom and virtue of all unrevealed philosophy fell short, and was very imperfect; I go on, in the second place, to shew in several instances, where some of the most renowned philosophers have been grossly defective in their lessons of morality. Thales, the founder of the Ionic sect, so celebrated for morality, being asked how a man might bear ill-fortune with greatest ease, answered, "By seeing his enemies in a worse condition." An answer truly barbarous, unworthy of human nature, and which included such consequences as must destroy all society from the world. Solon, lamenting the death of a son, one told him, "You lament in vain:" "Therefore" (said he) "I lament, because it is in vain." This was a plain confession how imperfect all his philosophy was, and that something was still wanting. He owned that all his wisdom and morals were useless, and this upon one of the most frequent accidents in life. How much better could he have learned to support himself even from David, by his entire dependence upon God; and that before our Saviour had advanced the notions of religion to the height and perfection wherewith He hath instructed His disciples? Plato himself, with all his refinements, placed happiness in wisdom, health, good fortune, honour, and riches; and held that they who enjoyed all these were perfectly happy: Which opinion was indeed unworthy its owner, leaving the wise and the good man wholly at the mercy of uncertain chance, and to be miserable without resource. His scholar, Aristotle, fell more grossly into the same notion; and plainly affirmed, "That virtue, without the goods of fortune, was not sufficient for happiness, but that a wise man must be miserable in poverty and sickness." Nay, Diogenes himself, from whose pride and singularity one would have looked for other notions, delivered it as his opinion, "That a poor old man was the most miserable thing in life." Zeno also and his followers fell into many absurdities, among which nothing could be greater than that of maintaining all crimes to be equal, which, instead of making vice hateful, rendered it as a thing indifferent and familiar to all men. _Lastly_: Epicurus had no notion of justice but as it was profitable; and his placing happiness in pleasure, with all the advantages he could expound it by, was liable to very great exception: For, although he taught that pleasure did consist in virtue, yet he did not any way fix or ascertain the boundaries of virtue, as he ought to have done; by which means he misled his followers into the greatest vices, making their names to become odious and scandalous, even in the heathen world. I have produced these few instances from a great many others, to shew the imperfection of heathen philosophy, wherein I have confined myself wholly to their morality. And surely we may pronounce upon it in the words of St James, that "This wisdom descended not from above, but was earthly and sensual." What if I had produced their absurd notions about God and the soul? It would then have completed the character given it by that apostle, and appeared to have been devilish too. But it is easy to observe, from the nature of these few particulars, that their defects in morals were purely the flagging and fainting of the mind, for want of a support by revelation from God. I proceed therefore, in the third place, to shew the perfection of Christian wisdom from above, and I shall endeavour to make it appear from those proper characters and marks of it by the apostle before mentioned, in the third chapter, and 15th, 16th, and 17th verses. The words run thus: "This wisdom descendeth not from above, but is earthly, sensual, devilish. "For where envying and strife is, there is confusion, and every evil work. "But the wisdom that is from above, is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be intreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy." "The wisdom from above is first pure." This purity of the mind and spirit is peculiar to the Gospel. Our Saviour says, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." A mind free from all pollution of lusts shall have a daily vision of God, whereof unrevealed religion can form no notion. This it is which keeps us unspotted from the world; and hereby many have been prevailed upon to live in the practice of all purity, holiness, and righteousness, far beyond the examples of the most celebrated philosophers. It is "peaceable, gentle, and easy to be intreated." The Christian doctrine teacheth us all those dispositions that make us affable and courteous, gentle and kind, without any morose leaven of pride or vanity, which entered into the composition of most heathen schemes: So we are taught to be meek and lowly. Our Saviour's last legacy was peace; and He commands us to forgive our offending brother unto seventy times seven. Christian wisdom is full of mercy and good works, teaching the height of all moral virtues, of which the heathens fall infinitely short. Plato indeed (and it is worth observing) has somewhere a dialogue, or part of one, about forgiving our enemies, which was perhaps the highest strain ever reached by man, without divine assistance; yet how little is that to what our Saviour commands us? "To love them that hate us; to bless them that curse us; and do good to them that despitefully use us." Christian wisdom is "without partiality;" it is not calculated for this or that nation of people, but the whole race of mankind: Not so the philosophical schemes, which were narrow and confined, adapted to their peculiar towns, governments, or sects; but, "in every nation, he that feareth God and worketh righteousness, is accepted with Him." _Lastly_: It is "without hypocrisy:" It appears to be what it really is; it is all of a piece. By the doctrines of the Gospel we are so far from being allowed to publish to the world those virtues we have not, that we are commanded to hide, even from ourselves, those we really have, and not to let our right hand know what our left hand does; unlike several branches of the heathen wisdom, which pretended to teach insensibility and indifference, magnanimity and contempt of life, while, at the same time, in other parts it belied its own doctrines. I come now, in the last place, to shew that the great examples of wisdom and virtue, among the Grecian sages, were produced by personal merit, and not influenced by the doctrine of any particular sect; whereas, in Christianity, it is quite the contrary. The two virtues most celebrated by ancient moralists were Fortitude and Temperance, as relating to the government of man in his private capacity, to which their schemes were generally addressed and confined; and the two instances, wherein those virtues arrived at the greatest height, were Socrates and Cato. But neither those, nor any other virtues possessed by these two, were at all owing to any lessons or doctrines of a sect. For Socrates himself was of none at all; and although Cato was called a Stoic, it was more from a resemblance of manners in his worst qualities, than that he avowed himself one of their disciples. The same may be affirmed of many other great men of antiquity. From whence I infer, that those who were renowned for virtue among them, were more obliged to the good natural dispositions of their own minds, than to the doctrines of any sect they pretended to follow. On the other side, As the examples of fortitude and patience, among the primitive Christians, have been infinitely greater and more numerous, so they were altogether the product of their principles and doctrine; and were such as the same persons, without those aids, would never have arrived to. Of this truth most of the apostles, with many thousand martyrs, are a cloud of witnesses beyond exception. Having therefore spoken so largely upon the former heads, I shall dwell no longer upon this. And, if it should here be objected, Why does not Christianity still produce the same effects? it is easy to answer, First, That although the number of pretended Christians be great, yet that of true believers, in proportion to the other, was never so small; and it is a true lively faith alone, that by the assistance of God's grace, can influence our practice. _Secondly_, we may answer, That Christianity itself has very much suffered by being blended up with Gentile philosophy. The Platonic system, first taken into religion, was thought to have given matter for some early heresies in the Church. When disputes began to arise, the Peripatetic forms were introduced by Scotus, as best fitted for controversy. And, however this may now have become necessary, it was surely the author of a litigious vein, which has since occasioned very pernicious consequences, stopped the progress of Christianity, and been a great promoter of vice, verifying that sentence given by St James, and mentioned before, "Where envying and strife is, there is confusion, and every evil work." This was the fatal stop to the Grecians, in their progress both of arts and arms: Their wise men were divided under several sects, and their governments under several commonwealths, all in opposition to each other; which engaged them in eternal quarrels among themselves, while they should have been armed against the common enemy. And I wish we had no other examples from the like causes, less foreign or ancient than that. Diogenes said Socrates was a madman; the disciples of Zeno and Epicurus, nay of Plato and Aristotle, were engaged in fierce disputes about the most insignificant trifles. And, if this be the present language and practice among us Christians, no wonder that Christianity does not still produce the same effects which it did at first, when it was received and embraced in its utmost purity and perfection. For such a wisdom as this cannot "descend from above," but must be "earthly, sensual, devilish; full of confusion and every evil work": Whereas "the wisdom from above, is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be intreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy." This is the true heavenly wisdom, which Christianity only can boast of, and which the greatest of the heathen wise men could never arrive at. Now to God the Father, &c. &c. DOING GOOD: A SERMON, ON THE OCCASION OF WOOD'S PROJECT.[1] [Footnote 1: "I did very lately, as I thought it my duty, preach to the people under my inspection, upon the subject of Mr. Wood's coin; and although I never heard that my sermon gave the least offence, as I am sure none was intended; yet, if it were now printed and published, I cannot say, I would insure it from the hands of the common hangman; or my own person from those of a messenger." See "The Drapier's Letters," No. VI. "'I never' (said the Dean in a jocular conversation), 'preached but twice in my life; and then they were not sermons, but pamphlets.' Being asked on what subject, he replied, 'They were against Wood's halfpence.'"--Pilkington's _Memoirs_, vol. i. p. 56. "The pieces relating to Ireland are those of a public nature; in which the Dean appears, as usual, in the best light, because they do honour to his heart as well as to his head; furnishing some additional proofs, that, though he was very free in his abuse of the inhabitants of that country, as well natives as foreigners, he had their interest sincerely at heart, and perfectly understood it. His sermon upon Doing Good, though peculiarly adapted to Ireland and Wood's designs upon it, contains perhaps the best motives to patriotism that were ever delivered within so small a compass."--BURKE.] WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCXXIV. GALATIANS, VI. 10. "As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men." Nature directs every one of us, and God permits us, to consult our own private good before the private good of any other person whatsoever. We are, indeed, commanded to love our neighbour as ourselves, but not as well as ourselves. The love we have for ourselves is to be the pattern of that love we ought to have towards our neighbour: But, as the copy doth not equal the original, so my neighbour cannot think it hard, if I prefer myself, who am the original, before him, who is only the copy. Thus, if any matter equally concern the life, the reputation, the profit of my neighbour, and my own; the law of nature, which is the law of God, obligeth me to take care of myself first, and afterwards of him. And this I need not be at much pains in persuading you to; for the want of self-love, with regard to things of this world, is not among the faults of mankind. But then, on the other side, if, by a small hurt and loss to myself, I can procure a great good to my neighbour, in that case his interest is to be preferred. For example, if I can be sure of saving his life, without great danger to my own; if I can preserve him from being undone, without ruining myself, or recover his reputation without blasting mine; all this I am obliged to do: and, if I sincerely perform it, I do then obey the command of God, in loving my neighbour as myself. But, beside this love we owe to every man in his particular capacity under the title of our neighbour, there is yet a duty of a more large extensive nature incumbent on us; which is, our love to our neighbour in his public capacity, as he is a member of that great body the commonwealth, under the same government with ourselves; and this is usually called love of the public, and is a duty to which we are more strictly obliged than even that of loving ourselves; because therein ourselves are also contained, as well as all our neighbours, in one great body. This love of the public, or of the commonwealth, or love of our country, was in ancient times properly known by the name of virtue, because it was the greatest of all virtues, and was supposed to contain all virtues in it: And many great examples of this virtue are left us on record, scarcely to be believed, or even conceived, in such a base, corrupted, wicked age as this we live in. In those times it was common for men to sacrifice their lives for the good of their country, although they had neither hope or belief of future rewards; whereas, in our days, very few make the least scruple of sacrificing a whole nation, as well as their own souls, for a little present gain; which often hath been known to end in their own ruin in this world, as it certainly must in that to come. Have we not seen men, for the sake of some petty employment, give up the very natural rights and liberties of their country, and of mankind, in the ruin of which themselves must at last be involved? Are not these corruptions gotten among the meanest of our people, who, for a piece of money, will give their votes at a venture, for the disposal of their own lives and fortunes, without considering whether it be to those who are most likely to betray or defend them? But, if I were to produce only one instance of a hundred wherein we fail in this duty of loving our country, it would be an endless labour; and therefore I shall not attempt it. But here I would not be misunderstood: By the love of our country I do not mean loyalty to our king, for that is a duty of another nature; and a man may be very loyal, in the common sense of the word, without one grain of public good at his heart. Witness this very kingdom we live in. I verily believe, that, since the beginning of the world, no nation upon earth ever shewed (all circumstances considered) such high constant marks of loyalty in all their actions and behaviour, as we have done: And, at the same time, no people ever appeared more utterly void of what is called a public spirit. When I say the people, I mean the bulk or mass of the people, for I have nothing to do with those in power. Therefore I shall think my time not ill spent, if I can persuade most or all of you who hear me, to shew the love you have for your country, by endeavouring, in your several stations, to do all the public good you are able. For I am certainly persuaded, that all our misfortunes arise from no other original cause than that general disregard among us to the public welfare. I therefore undertake to shew you three things. _First_: That there are few people so weak or mean, who have it not sometimes in their power to be useful to the public. _Secondly_: That it is often in the power of the meanest among mankind to do mischief to the public. And, _Lastly_: That all wilful injuries done to the public are very great and aggravated sins in the sight of God. _First_: There are few people so weak or mean, who have it not sometimes in their power to be useful to the public. Solomon tells us of a poor wise man who saved a city by his counsel. It hath often happened that a private soldier, by some unexpected brave attempt, hath been instrumental in obtaining a great victory. How many obscure men have been authors of very useful inventions, whereof the world now reaps the benefit? The very example of honesty and industry in a poor tradesman will sometimes spread through a neighbourhood, when others see how successful he is; and thus so many useful members are gained, for which the whole body of the public is the better. Whoever is blessed with a true public spirit, God will certainly put it into his way to make use of that blessing, for the ends it was given him, by some means or other: And therefore it hath been observed in most ages, that the greatest actions, for the benefit of the commonwealth, have been performed by the wisdom or courage, the contrivance or industry, of particular men, and not of numbers; and that the safety of a kingdom hath often been owing to those hands from whence it was least expected. But, _Secondly_: It is often in the power of the meanest among mankind to do mischief to the public: And hence arise most of those miseries with which the states and kingdoms of the earth are infested. How many great princes have been murdered by the meanest ruffians? The weakest hand can open a flood-gate to drown a country, which a thousand of the strongest cannot stop. Those who have thrown off all regard for public good, will often have it in their way to do public evil, and will not fail to exercise that power whenever they can. The greatest blow given of late to this kingdom, was by the dishonesty of a few manufacturers; who, by imposing bad ware at foreign markets, in almost the only traffic permitted to us, did half ruin that trade; by which this poor unhappy kingdom now suffers in the midst of sufferings. I speak not here of persons in high stations, who ought to be free from all reflection, and are supposed always to intend the welfare of the community: But we now find by experience, that the meanest instrument may, by the concurrence of accidents, have it in his power to bring a whole kingdom to the very brink of destruction, and is, at this present, endeavouring to finish his work; and hath agents among ourselves, who are contented to see their own country undone, to be small sharers in that iniquitous gain, which at last must end in their own ruin as well as ours. I confess, it was chiefly the consideration of that great danger we are in, which engaged me to discourse to you on this subject; to exhort you to a love of your country, and a public spirit, when all you have is at stake; to prefer the interest of your prince and your fellow-subjects before that of one destructive impostor, and a few of his adherents. Perhaps it may be thought by some, that this way of discoursing is not so proper from the pulpit. But surely, when an open attempt is made, and far carried on, to make a great kingdom one large poorhouse, to deprive us of all means to exercise hospitality or charity, to turn our cities and churches into ruins, to make the country a desert for wild beasts and robbers, to destroy all arts and sciences, all trades and manufactures, and the very tillage of the ground, only to enrich one obscure ill-designing projector, and his followers; it is time for the pastor to cry out that the wolf is getting into his flock, to warn them to stand together, and all to consult the common safety. And God be praised for His infinite goodness in raising such a spirit of union among us, at least in this point, in the midst of all our former divisions; which union, if it continue, will, in all probability, defeat the pernicious design of this pestilent enemy to the nation. But, from hence, it clearly follows how necessary the love of our country, or a public spirit, is in every particular man, since the wicked have so many opportunities of doing public mischief. Every man is upon his guard for his private advantage; but, where the public is concerned, he is apt to be negligent, considering himself only as one among two or three millions, among whom the loss is equally shared, and thus, he thinks, he can be no great sufferer. Meanwhile the trader, the farmer, and the shopkeeper, complain of the hardness and deadness of the times, and wonder whence it comes; while it is, in a great measure, owing to their own folly, for want of that love of their country, and public spirit and firm union among themselves, which are so necessary to the prosperity of every nation. Another method by which the meanest wicked man, may have it in his power to injure the public, is false accusation, whereof this kingdom hath afforded too many examples: Neither is it long since no man, whose opinions were thought to differ from those in fashion, could safely converse beyond his nearest friends, for fear of being sworn against, as a traitor, by those who made a traffic of perjury and subornation; by which the very peace of the nation was disturbed, and men fled from each other as they would from a lion or a bear got loose. And, it is very remarkable, that the pernicious project now in hand to reduce us to beggary, was forwarded by one of these false accusers, who had been convicted of endeavouring, by perjury and subornation, to take away the lives of several innocent persons here among us; and, indeed, there could not be a more proper instrument for such a work. Another method by which the meanest people may do injury to the public, is the spreading of lies and false rumours, thus raising a distrust among the people of a nation, causing them to mistake their true interest, and their enemies for their friends: And this hath been likewise too successful a practice among us, where we have known the whole kingdom misled by the grossest lies, raised upon occasion to serve some particular turn. As it hath also happened in the case I lately mentioned, where one obscure man, by representing our wants where they were least, and concealing them where they were greatest, had almost succeeded in a project of utterly ruining this whole kingdom; and may still succeed, if God doth not continue that public spirit, which He hath almost miraculously kindled in us upon this occasion. Thus we see the public is many times, as it were, at the mercy of the meanest instrument, who can be wicked enough to watch opportunities of doing it mischief, upon the principles of avarice or malice; which, I am afraid, are deeply rooted in too many breasts, and against which there can be no defence, but a firm resolution in all honest men, to be closely united and active in shewing their love to their country, by preferring the public interest to their present private advantage. If a passenger, in a great storm at sea, should hide his goods that they might not be thrown overboard to lighten the ship, what would be the consequence? The ship is cast away, and he loses his life and goods together. We have heard of men, who, through greediness of gain, have brought infected goods into a nation, which bred a plague, whereof the owners and their families perished first. Let those among us consider this and tremble, whose houses are privately stored with those materials of beggary and desolation, lately brought over to be scattered like a pestilence among their countrymen, which may probably first seize upon themselves and their families, until their houses shall be made a dunghill. I shall mention one practice more, by which the meanest instruments often succeed in doing public mischief; and this is by deceiving us with plausible arguments, to make us believe that the most ruinous project they can offer is intended for our good, as it happened in the case so often mentioned. For the poor ignorant people, allured by the appearing convenience in their small dealings, did not discover the serpent in the brass,[2] but were ready, like the Israelites, to offer incense to it; neither could the wisdom of the nation convince them, until some, of good intentions, made the cheat so plain to their sight, that those who run may read. And thus the design was to treat us, in every point, as the Philistines treated Samson, (I mean when he was betrayed by Delilah) first to put out our eyes, and then bind us with fetters of brass. [Footnote 2: "Brass" may be read "Wood's halfpence." [T.S.]] I proceed to the last thing I proposed, which was to shew you that all wilful injuries done to the public, are very great and aggravated sins in the sight of God. _First:_ It is apparent from Scripture, and most agreeable to reason, that the safety and welfare of nations are under the most peculiar care of God's providence. Thus He promised Abraham to save Sodom, if only ten righteous men could be found in it. Thus the reason which God gave to Jonas for not destroying Nineveh was, because there were six score thousand men in that city. All government is from God, Who is the God of order, and therefore whoever attempts to breed confusion or disturbance among a people, doth his utmost to take the government of the world out of God's hands, and to put it into the hands of the Devil, who is the author of confusion. By which it is plain, that no crime, how heinous soever, committed against particular persons, can equal the guilt of him who does injury to the public. _Secondly_: All offenders against their country lie under this grievous difficulty, that it is next to impossible to obtain a pardon, or make restitution. The bulk of mankind are very quick at resenting injuries, and very slow in forgiving them: And how shall one man be able to obtain the pardon of millions, or repair the injuries he hath done to millions? How shall those, who, by a most destructive fraud, got the whole wealth of our neighbouring kingdom into their hands, be ever able to make a recompence? How will the authors and promoters of that villainous project, for the ruin of this poor country, be able to account with us for the injuries they have already done, although they should no farther succeed? The deplorable case of such wretches, must entirely be left to the unfathomable mercies of God: For those who know the least in religion are not ignorant that, without our utmost endeavours to make restitution to the person injured, and to obtain his pardon, added to a sincere repentance, there is no hope of salvation given in the Gospel. _Lastly_: All offences against our own country have this aggravation, that they are ungrateful and unnatural. It is to our country we owe those laws which protect us in our lives, our liberties, our properties, and our religion. Our country produced us into the world, and continues to nourish us so, that it is usually called our mother; and there have been examples of great magistrates, who have put their own children to death for endeavouring to betray their country, as if they had attempted the life of their natural parent. Thus I have briefly shewn you how terrible a sin it is to be an enemy to our country, in order to incite you to the contrary virtue, which at this juncture is so highly necessary, when every man's endeavour will be of use. We have hitherto been just able to support ourselves under many hardships; but now the axe is laid to the root of the tree, and nothing but a firm union among us can prevent our utter undoing. This we are obliged to, in duty to our gracious King, as well as to ourselves. Let us therefore preserve that public spirit, which God hath raised in us for our own temporal interest For, if this wicked project should succeed, which it cannot do but by our own folly; if we sell ourselves for nought; the merchant, the shopkeeper, the artificer, must fly to the desert with their miserable families, there to starve or live upon rapine, or at least exchange their country for one more hospitable than that where they were born. Thus much I thought it my duty to say to you, who are under my care, to warn you against those temporal evils, which may draw the worst of spiritual evils after them; such as heart-burnings, murmurings, discontents, and all manner of wickedness which a desperate condition of life may tempt men to. I am sensible that what I have now said will not go very far, being confined to this assembly; but I hope it may stir up others of my brethren to exhort their several congregations, after a more effectual manner, to shew their love for their country on this important occasion. And this, I am sure, cannot be called meddling in affairs of state. I pray God protect his Most Gracious Majesty, and this kingdom, long under his government, and defend us from all ruinous projectors, deceivers, suborners, perjurers, false accusers, and oppressors; from the virulence of party and faction; and unite us in loyalty to our King, love to our country, and charity to each other. And this we beg for Jesus Christ His sake: To Whom, &c. ON THE MARTYRDOM OF KING CHARLES I. PREACHED AT ST PATRICK'S, DUBLIN, JAN. 30, 1725-26, BEING SUNDAY. GENESIS, XLIX. 5, 6, 7. "Simeon and Levi are brethren; instruments of cruelty are in their habitations. "O my soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their assembly, mine honour, be not thou united: for in their anger they slew a man, and in their self-will they digged down a wall. "Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce; and their wrath, for it was cruel. I will divide them in Jacob, and scatter them in Israel." I know very well, that the Church hath been often censured for keeping holy this day of humiliation, in memory of that excellent king and blessed martyr, Charles I., who rather chose to die on a scaffold, than betray the religion and liberties of his people, wherewith God and the laws had entrusted him. But, at the same time, it is manifest that those who make such censures are either people without any religion at all, or who derive their principles, and perhaps their birth, from the abettors of those who contrived the murder of that prince, and have not yet shewn the world that their opinions are changed. It is alleged, that the observation of this day hath served to continue and increase the animosity and enmity among our countrymen, and to disunite Protestants; that a law was made, upon the restoration of the Martyr's son, for a general pardon and oblivion, forbidding all reproaches upon that occasion; and, since none are now alive who were actors or instruments in that tragedy, it is thought hard and uncharitable to keep up the memory of it for all generations. Now, because I conceive most of you to be ignorant in many particulars concerning that horrid murder, and the rebellion which preceded it; I will, _First_, relate to you so much of the story as may be sufficient for your information: _Secondly_, I will tell you the consequences which this bloody deed had upon these kingdoms: And, _Lastly_, I will shew you to what good uses this solemn day of humiliation may be applied. As to the first: In the reign of this prince, Charles the Martyr, the power and prerogative of the king were much greater than they are in our times, and so had been for at least seven hundred years before; And the best princes we ever had, carried their power much farther than the blessed Martyr offered to do in the most blameable part of his reign. But, the lands of the Crown having been prodigally bestowed to favourites, in the preceding reigns, the succeeding kings could not support themselves without taxes raised by Parliament; which put them under a necessity of frequently calling those assemblies: And, the crown lands being gotten into the hands of the nobility and gentry, beside the possessions of which the Church had been robbed by King Henry the Eighth, power, which always follows property, grew to lean to the side of the people, by whom even the just rights of the Crown were often disputed. But further: Upon the cruel persecution raised against the Protestants, under Queen Mary, among great numbers who fled the kingdom to seek for shelter, several went and resided at Geneva, which is a commonwealth, governed without a king, and where the religion, contrived by Calvin, is without the order of bishops. When the Protestant faith was restored by Queen Elizabeth, those who fled to Geneva returned among the rest home to England, and were grown so fond of the government and religion of the place they had left, that they used all possible endeavours to introduce both into their own country; at the same time continually preaching and railing against ceremonies and distinct habits of the clergy, taxing whatever they disliked, as a remnant of Popery, and continued extremely troublesome to the Church and state, under that great Queen, as well as her successor King James I. These people called themselves Puritans, as pretending to a purer faith than those of the Church established. And these were the founders of our Dissenters. They did not think it sufficient to leave all the errors of Popery, but threw off many laudable and edifying institutions of the primitive Church, and, at last, even the government of bishops; which, having been ordained by the apostles themselves, had continued without interruption, in all Christian churches, for above fifteen hundred years. And all this they did, not because those things were evil, but because they were kept by the Papists. From thence they proceeded, by degrees, to quarrel with the kingly government; because, as I have already said, the city of Geneva, to which their fathers had flown for refuge, was a commonwealth, or government of the people. These Puritans, about the middle of the Martyr's reign, were grown to a considerable faction in the kingdom, and in the Lower House of Parliament. They filled the public with the most false and bitter libels against the bishops and the clergy, accusing chiefly the very best among them of Popery; and, at the same time, the House of Commons grew so insolent and uneasy to the King, that they refused to furnish him with necessary supplies for the support of his family, unless upon such conditions as he could not submit to without forfeiting his conscience and honour, and even his coronation oath. And, in such an extremity, he was forced upon a practice, no way justifiable, of raising money; for which, however, he had the opinion of the judges on his side; for, wicked judges there were in those times as well as in ours. There were likewise many complaints, and sometimes justly, made against the proceedings of a certain court, called the Star-chamber, a judicature of great antiquity, but had suffered some corruptions, for which, however, the King was nowise answerable, I cannot recollect any more subjects of complaint with the least ground of reason, nor is it needful to recollect them, because this gracious King did, upon the first application, redress all grievances by an act of Parliament, and put it out of his power to do any hardships for the future. But that wicked faction in the House of Commons, not content with all those marks of his justice and condescension, urged still for more; and joining with a factious party from Scotland, who had the same fancies in religion, forced him to pass an act for cutting off the head of his best and chief minister; and, at the same time, compelled him, by tumults and threatenings of a packed rabble, poisoned with the same doctrines, to pass another law, by which it should not be in his power to dissolve that Parliament without their own consent. Thus, by the greatest weakness and infatuation that ever possessed any man's spirit, this Prince did in effect sign his own destruction. For the House of Commons, having the reins in their own hands, drove on furiously; sent him every day some unreasonable demand, and when he refused to grant it, made use of their own power, and declared that an ordinance of both Houses, without the King's consent, should be obeyed as a law, contrary to all reason and equity, as well as to the fundamental constitution of the kingdom. About this time the rebellion in Ireland broke out, wherein his Parliament refused to assist him; nor would accept his offer to come hither in person to subdue those rebels. These, and a thousand other barbarities, forced the King to summon his loyal subjects to his standard in his own defence. Meanwhile the English Parliament, instead of helping the poor Protestants here, seized on the very army that his Majesty was sending over for our relief, and turned them against their own Sovereign. The rebellion in England continued for four or five years: At last the King was forced to fly in disguise to the Scots, who sold him to the rebels. And these Puritans had the impudent cruelty to try his sacred person in a mock court of justice, and cut off his head; which he might have saved, if he would have yielded to betray the constitution in Church and state. In this whole proceeding, Simeon and Levi were brethren; the wicked insinuations of those fanatical preachers stirring up the cruelty of the soldiers, who, by force of arms, excluded from the house every member of Parliament, whom they apprehended to bear the least inclination towards an agreement with the King, suffering only those to enter who thirsted chiefly for his blood; and this is the very account given by their own writers: From whence it is clear that this Prince was, in all respects, a real martyr for the true religion and the liberty of the people. That odious Parliament had first turned the bishops out of the House of Lords; in a few years after, they murdered their King; then immediately abolished the whole House of Lords; and so, at last, obtained their wishes, of having a government of the people, and a new religion, both after the manner of Geneva, without a king, a bishop, or a nobleman; and this they blasphemously called "The kingdom of Christ and his saints." This is enough for your information on the first head: I shall therefore proceed to the second, wherein I will shew you the miserable consequences which that abominable rebellion and murder produced in these nations. _First:_ The Irish rebellion was wholly owing to that wicked English Parliament. For the leaders in the Irish Popish massacre would never have dared to stir a finger, if they had not been encouraged by that rebellious spirit in the English House of Commons, which they very well knew must disable the King from sending any supplies to his Protestant subjects here; and, therefore, we may truly say that the English Parliament held the King's hands, while the Irish Papists here were cutting our grandfathers' throats. _Secondly:_ That murderous Puritan Parliament, when they had all in their own power, could not agree upon any one method of settling a form either of religion or civil government; but changed every day from schism to schism, from heresy to heresy, and from one faction to another: From whence arose that wild confusion, still continuing in our several ways of serving God, and those absurd notions of civil power, which have so often torn us with factions more than any other nation in Europe. _Thirdly:_ To this rebellion and murder have been owing the rise and progress of atheism among us. For, men observing what numberless villainies of all kinds were committed during twenty years, under pretence of zeal and the reformation of God's Church, were easily tempted to doubt that all religion was a mere imposture: And the same spirit of infidelity, so far spread among us at this present, is nothing but the fruit of the seeds sown by those rebellious hypocritical saints. _Fourthly:_ The old virtue and loyalty, and generous spirit of the English nation, were wholly corrupted by the power, the doctrine, and the example of those wicked people. Many of the ancient nobility were killed, and their families extinct, in defence of their Prince and country, or murdered by the merciless courts of justice. Some of the worst among them favoured, or complied with the reigning iniquities, and not a few of the new set created, when the Martyr's son was restored, were such who had drunk too deep of the bad principles then prevailing. _Fifthly:_ The children of the murdered Prince were forced to fly, for the safety of their lives, to foreign countries; where one of them at least, I mean King James II., was seduced to Popery; which ended in the loss of his kingdoms, the misery and desolation of this country, and a long and expensive war abroad. Our deliverance was owing to the valour and conduct of the late King; and, therefore, we ought to remember him with gratitude, but not mingled with blasphemy or idolatry. It was happy that his interests and ours were the same: And God gave him greater success than our sins deserved. But, as a house thrown down by a storm, is seldom rebuilt without some change in the foundation; so it hath happened, that, since the late Revolution, men have sat much looser in the true fundamentals both of religion and government, and factions have been more violent, treacherous, and malicious than ever, men running naturally from one extreme into another; and, for private ends, taking up those very opinions professed by the leaders in that rebellion, which carried the blessed Martyr to the scaffold. _Sixthly:_ Another consequence of this horrid rebellion and murder was the destroying or defacing of such vast number of God's houses. "In their self-will they digged down a wall." If a stranger should now travel in England, and observe the churches in his way, he could not otherwise conclude, than that some vast army of Turks or heathens had been sent on purpose to ruin and blot out all marks of Christianity. They spared neither the statues of saints, nor ancient prelates, nor kings, nor benefactors; broke down the tombs and monuments of men famous in their generations, seized the vessels of silver set apart for the holiest use, tore down the most innocent ornaments both within and without, made the houses of prayer dens of thieves, or stables for cattle. These were the mildest effects of Puritan zeal, and devotion for Christ; and this was what themselves affected to call a thorough reformation. In this kingdom those ravages were not so easily seen; for the people here being too poor to raise such noble temples, the mean ones we had were not defaced, but totally destroyed. Upon the whole, it is certain, that although God might have found out many other ways to have punished a sinful people, without permitting this rebellion and murder, yet as the course of the world hath run ever since, we need seek for no other causes, of all the public evils we have hitherto suffered, or may suffer for the future, by the misconduct of princes, or wickedness of the people. I go on now upon the third head, to shew you to what good uses this solemn day of humiliation may be applied. _First_: It may be an instruction to princes themselves, to be careful in the choice of those who are their advisers in matters of law. All the judges of England, except one or two, advised the King, that he might legally raise money upon the subjects for building of ships without consent of Parliament; which, as it was the greatest oversight of his reign, so it proved the principal foundation of all his misfortunes. Princes may likewise learn from hence, not to sacrifice a faithful servant to the rage of a faction, nor to trust any body of men with a greater share of power than the laws of the land have appointed them, much less to deposit it in their hands until they shall please to restore it. _Secondly_: By bringing to mind the tragedy of this day, and the consequences that have arisen from it, we shall be convinced how necessary it is for those in power to curb, in season, all such unruly spirits as desire to introduce new doctrines and discipline in the Church, or new forms of government in the state. Those wicked Puritans began, in Queen Elizabeth's time, to quarrel only with surplices and other habits, with the ring in matrimony, the cross in baptism, and the like; thence they went on to further matters of higher importance, and, at last, they must needs have the whole government of the Church dissolved. This great work they compassed, first, by depriving the bishops of their seats in Parliament, then they abolished the whole order; and, at last, which was their original design, they seized on all the Church-lands, and divided the spoil among themselves; and, like Jeroboam, made priests of the very dregs of the people. This was their way of reforming the Church. As to the civil government, you have already heard how they modelled it upon the murder of their King, and discarding the nobility. Yet, clearly to shew what a Babel they had built, after twelve years' trial and twenty several sorts of government; the nation grown weary of their tyranny, was forced to call in the son of him whom those reformers had sacrificed. And thus were Simeon and Levi divided in Jacob and scattered in Israel. _Thirdly_: Although the successors of these Puritans, I mean our present Dissenters, do not think fit to observe this day of humiliation; yet, since it would be very proper in them, upon some occasions, to renounce in a public manner those principles upon which their predecessors acted; and it will be more prudent in them to do so, because those very Puritans, of whom ours are followers, found by experience, that after they had overturned the Church and state, murdered their King, and were projecting what they called a kingdom of the saints, they were cheated of the power and possessions they only panted after, by an upstart sect of religion that grew out of their own bowels, who subjected them to one tyrant, while they were endeavouring to set up a thousand. _Fourthly_: Those who profess to be followers of our Church established, and yet presume in discourse to justify or excuse that rebellion, and murder of the King, ought to consider, how utterly contrary all such opinions are to the doctrine of Christ and his apostles, as well as to the articles of our Church, and to the preaching and practice of its true professors for above a hundred years. Of late times, indeed, and I speak it with grief of heart, we have heard even sermons of a strange nature; although reason would make one think it a very unaccountable way of procuring favour under a monarchy, by palliating and lessening the guilt of those who murdered the best of kings in cold blood, and, for a time, destroyed the very monarchy itself. Pray God, we may never more hear such doctrine from the pulpit, nor have it scattered about in print, to poison the people! _Fifthly:_ Some general knowledge of this horrid rebellion and murder, with the consequences they had upon these nations, may be a warning to our people not to believe a lie, and to mistrust those deluding spirits, who, under pretence of a purer and more reformed religion, would lead them from their duty to God and the laws. Politicians may say what they please, but it is no hard thing at all for the meanest person, who hath common understanding, to know whether he be well or ill governed. If he be freely allowed to follow his trade and calling; if he be secure in his property, and hath the benefit of the law to defend himself against injustice and oppression; if his religion be different from that of his country, and the government think fit to tolerate it, (which he may be very secure of, let it be what it will;) he ought to be fully satisfied, and give no offence, by writing or discourse, to the worship established, as the dissenting preachers are too apt to do. But, if he hath any new visions of his own, it is his duty to be quiet, and possess them in silence, without disturbing the community by a furious zeal for making proselytes. This was the folly and madness of those ancient puritan fanatics: They must needs overturn heaven and earth, violate all the laws of God and man, make their country a field of blood, to propagate whatever wild or wicked opinions came into their heads, declaring all their absurdities and blasphemies to proceed from the Holy Ghost. To conclude this head. In answer to that objection of keeping up animosity and hatred between Protestants, by the observation of this day; if there be any sect or sort of people among us, who profess the same principles in religion and government which those puritan rebels put in practice, I think it is the interest of all those who love the Church and King, to keep up as strong a party against them as possible, until they shall, in a body, renounce all those wicked opinions upon which their predecessors acted, to the disgrace of Christianity, and the perpetual infamy of the English nation. When we accuse the Papists of the horrid doctrine, "that no faith ought to be kept with heretics," they deny it to a man; and yet we justly think it dangerous to trust them, because we know their actions have been sometimes suitable to that opinion. But the followers of those who beheaded the Martyr have not yet renounced their principles; and, till they do, they may be justly suspected. Neither will the bare name of Protestants set them right. For surely Christ requires more from us than a profession of hating Popery, which a Turk or an atheist may do as well as a Protestant. If an enslaved people should recover their liberty from a tyrannical power of any sort, who could blame them for commemorating their deliverance by a day of joy and thanksgiving? And doth not the destruction of a Church, a King, and three kingdoms, by the artifices, hypocrisy, and cruelty of a wicked race of soldiers and preachers, and other sons of Belial, equally require a solemn time of humiliation? Especially since the consequences of that bloody scene still continue, as I have already shewn, in their effects upon us. Thus I have done with the three heads I proposed to discourse on. But before I conclude, I must give a caution to those who hear me, that they may not think I am pleading for absolute unlimited power in any one man. It is true, all power is from God, and, as the apostle says, "the powers that be are ordained of God;" but this is in the same sense that all we have is from God, our food and raiment, and whatever possessions we hold by lawful means. Nothing can be meant in those, or any other words of Scripture, to justify tyrannical power, or the savage cruelties of those heathen emperors who lived in the time of the apostles. And so St Paul concludes, "The powers that be are ordained of God:" For what? Why, "for the punishment of evil doers, and the praise, the reward, of them that do well." There is no more inward value in the greatest emperor, than in the meanest of his subjects: His body is composed of the same substance, the same parts, and with the same or greater, infirmities: His education is generally worse, by flattery, and idleness, and luxury, and those evil dispositions that early power is apt to give. It is therefore against common sense, that his private personal interest, or pleasure, should be put in the balance with the safety of millions, every one of which is his equal by nature, equal in the sight of God, equally capable of salvation; and it is for their sakes, not his own, that he is entrusted with the government over them. He hath as high trust as can safely be reposed in one man, and, if he discharge it as he ought, he deserves all the honour and duty that a mortal may be allowed to receive. His personal failings we have nothing to do with, and errors in government are to be imputed to his ministers in the state. To what height those errors may be suffered to proceed, is not the business of this day, or this place, or of my function, to determine. When oppressions grow too great and universal to be borne, nature or necessity may find a remedy. But, if a private person reasonably expects pardon, upon his amendment, for all faults that are not capital, it would be a hard condition indeed, not to give the same allowance to a prince, who must see with other men's eyes, and hear with other men's ears, which are often wilfully blind and deaf. Such was the condition of the Martyr, and is so, in some degree, of all other princes. Yet this we may justly say in defence of the common people, in all civilized nations, that it must be a very bad government indeed, where the body of the subjects will not rather choose to live in peace and obedience, than take up arms on pretence of faults in the administration, unless where the vulgar are deluded by false preachers to grow fond of new visions and fancies in religion; which, managed by dexterous men, for sinister ends of malice, envy, or ambition, have often made whole nations run mad. This was exactly the case in the whole progress of that great rebellion, and the murder of King Charles I. But the late Revolution under the Prince of Orange was occasioned by a proceeding directly contrary, the oppression and injustice there beginning from the throne: For that unhappy prince, King James II., did not only invade our laws and liberties, but would have forced a false religion upon his subjects, for which he was deservedly rejected, since there could be no other remedy found, or at least agreed on. But, under the blessed Martyr, the deluded people would have forced many false religions, not only on their fellow-subjects, but even upon their sovereign himself, and at the same time invaded all his undoubted rights; and, because he would not comply, raised a horrid rebellion, wherein, by the permission of God, they prevailed, and put their sovereign to death, like a common criminal, in the face of the world. Therefore, those who seem to think they cannot otherwise justify the late Revolution, and the change of the succession, than by lessening the guilt of the Puritans, do certainly put the greatest affront imaginable upon the present powers, by supposing any relation, or resemblance, between that rebellion and the late Revolution; and, consequently, that the present establishment is to be defended by the same arguments which those usurpers made use of, who, to obtain their tyranny, trampled under foot all the laws of both God and man. One great design of my discourse was to give you warning against running into either extreme of two bad opinions, with relation to obedience. As kings are called gods upon earth, so some would allow them an equal power with God, over all laws and ordinances; and that the liberty, and property, and life, and religion of the subject, depended wholly upon the breath of the prince; which, however, I hope was never meant by those who pleaded for passive obedience. And this opinion hath not been confined to that party which was first charged with it, but hath sometimes gone over to the other, to serve many an evil turn of interest or ambition, who have been as ready to enlarge prerogative, where they could find their own account, as the highest maintainers of it. On the other side, some look upon kings as answerable for every mistake or omission in government, and bound to comply with the most unreasonable demands of an unquiet faction; which was the case of those who persecuted the blessed Martyr of this day from his throne to the scaffold. Between these two extremes, it is easy, from what hath been said, to choose a middle; to be good and loyal subjects, yet, according to your power, faithful assertors of your religion and liberties; to avoid all broachers and preachers of newfangled doctrines in the Church; to be strict observers of the laws, which cannot be justly taken from you without your own consent: In short, "to obey God and the King, and meddle not with those who are given to change." Which that you may all do, &c. ON THE POOR MAN'S CONTENTMENT. PHILIPPIANS, CHAP. IV. PART OF THE 11TH VERSE. "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content" The holy Scripture is full of expressions to set forth the miserable condition of man during the whole progress of his life; his weakness, pride, and vanity; his unmeasurable desires, and perpetual disappointments; the prevalency of his passions, and the corruptions of his reason; his deluding hopes, and his real, as well as imaginary, fears; his natural and artificial wants; his cares and anxieties; the diseases of his body, and the diseases of his mind; the shortness of his life; his dread of a future state, with his carelessness to prepare for it: And the wise men of all ages have made the same reflections. But all these are general calamities, from which none are excepted; and being without remedy, it is vain to bewail them. The great question, long debated in the world, is, whether the rich or the poor are the least miserable of the two? It is certain, that no rich man ever desired to be poor, and that most, if not all, poor men, desire to be rich; whence it may be argued, that, in all appearance, the advantage lieth on the side of wealth, because both parties agree in preferring it before poverty. But this reasoning will be found to be false: For, I lay it down as a certain truth, that God Almighty hath placed all men upon an equal foot, with respect to their happiness in this world, and the capacity of attaining their salvation in the next; or, at least, if there be any difference, it is not to the advantage of the rich and the mighty. Now, since a great part of those who usually make up our congregations, are not of considerable station, and many among them of the lower sort, and since the meaner people are generally and justly charged with the sin of repining and murmuring at their own condition, to which, however, their betters axe sufficiently subject (although, perhaps, for shame, not always so loud in their complaints) I thought it might be useful to reason upon this point in as plain a manner as I can. I shall therefore shew, first, that the poor enjoy many temporal blessings, which are not common to the rich and the great: And, likewise, that the rich and the great are subject to many temporal evils, which are not common to the poor. But here I would not be misunderstood; perhaps there is not a word more abused than that of the poor, or wherein the world is more generally mistaken. Among the number of those who beg in our streets, or are half-starved at home, or languish in prison for debt, there is hardly one in a hundred who doth not owe his misfortunes to his own laziness, or drunkenness, or worse vices. To these he owes those very diseases which often disable him from getting his bread. Such wretches are deservedly unhappy: They can only blame themselves; and when we are commanded to have pity on the poor, these are not understood to be of the number. It is true, indeed, that sometimes honest, endeavouring men are reduced to extreme want, even to the begging of alms, by losses, by accidents, by diseases, and old age, without any fault of their own: But these are very few in comparison of the other; nor would their support be any sensible burthen to the public, if the charity of well-disposed persons were not intercepted by those common strollers, who are most importunate, and who least deserve it. These, indeed, are properly and justly called the poor, whom it should be our study to find out and distinguish, by making them partake, of our superfluity and abundance. But neither have these anything to do with my present subject; For, by the poor, I only intend the honest, industrious artificer, the meaner sort of tradesmen, and the labouring man, who getteth his bread by the sweat of his brows, in town or country, and who make the bulk of mankind among us. _First_: I shall therefore shew, first, that the poor (in the sense I understand the word) do enjoy many temporal blessings, which are not common to the rich and great; and likewise, that the rich and great are subject to many temporal evils, which are not common to the poor. _Secondly_: From the arguments offered to prove the foregoing head, I shall draw some observations that may be useful for your practice. I. As to the first: Health, we know, is generally allowed to be the best of all earthly possessions, because it is that, without which we can have no satisfaction in any of the rest. For riches are of no use, if sickness taketh from us the ability of enjoying them, and power and greatness are then only a burthen. Now, if we would look for health, it must be in the humble habitation of the labouring man, or industrious artificer, who earn their bread by the sweat of their brows, and usually live to a good old age, with a great degree of strength and vigour. The refreshment of the body by sleep is another great happiness of the meaner sort. Their rest is not disturbed by the fear of thieves and robbers, nor is it interrupted by surfeits of intemperance. Labour and plain food supply the want of quieting draughts; and the wise man telleth us, that the sleep of the labouring man is sweet. As to children, which are certainly accounted of as a blessing, even to the poor, where industry is not wanting; they are an assistance to honest parents, instead of being a burthen; they are healthy and strong, and fit for labour; neither is the father in fear, lest his heir should be ruined by an unequal match: Nor is he solicitous about his rising in the world, farther than to be able to get his bread. The poorer sort are not the objects of general hatred or envy; they have no twinges of ambition, nor trouble themselves with party quarrels, or state divisions. The idle rabble, who follow their ambitious leaders in such cases, do not fall within my description of the poorer sort; for, it is plain, I mean only the honest industrious poor in town or country, who are safest in times of public disturbance, in perilous seasons, and public revolutions, if they will be quiet, and do their business; for artificers and husbandmen are necessary in all governments: But in such seasons, the rich are the public mark, because they are oftentimes of no use, but to be plundered; like some sort of birds, who are good for nothing, but their feathers; and so fall a prey to the strongest side. Let us proceed, on the other side to examine the disadvantages which the rich and the great lie under, with respect to the happiness of the present life. First, then; While health, as we have said, is the general portion of the lower sort, the gout, the dropsy, the stone, the cholic, and all other diseases, are continually haunting the palaces of the rich and the great, as the natural attendants upon laziness and luxury. Neither does the rich man eat his sumptuous fare with half the appetite and relish, that even the beggars do the crumbs which fall from his table: But, on the contrary, he is full of loathing and disgust, or at best of indifference, in the midst of plenty. Thus their intemperance shortens their lives, without pleasing their appetites. Business, fear, guilt, design, anguish, and vexation are continually buzzing about the curtains of the rich and the powerful, and will hardly suffer them to close their eyes, unless when they are dosed with the fumes of strong liquors. It is a great mistake to imagine that the rich want but few things; their wants are more numerous, more craving, and urgent, than those of poorer men: For these endeavour only at the necessaries of life, which make them happy, and they think no farther: But the desire of power and wealth is endless, and therefore impossible to be satisfied with any acquisitions. If riches were so great a blessing as they are commonly thought, they would at least have this advantage, to give their owners cheerful hearts and countenances; they would often stir them up to express their thankfulness to God, and discover their satisfaction to the world. But, in fact, the contrary to all this is true. For where are there more cloudy brows, more melancholy hearts, or more ingratitude to their great Benefactor, than among those who abound in wealth? And, indeed, it is natural that it should be so, because those men, who covet things that are hard to be got, must be hard to please; whereas a small thing maketh a poor man happy, and great losses cannot befall him. It is likewise worth considering, how few among the rich have procured their wealth by just measures; how many owe their fortunes to the sins of their parents, how many more to their own? If men's titles were to be tried before a true court of conscience, where false swearing, and a thousand vile artifices, (that are well known, and can hardly be avoided in human courts of justice) would avail nothing; how many would be ejected with infamy and disgrace? How many grow considerable by breach of trust, by bribery and corruption? How many have sold their religion, with the rights and liberties of themselves and others, for power and employments? And, it is a mistake to think, that the most hardened sinner, who oweth his possessions or titles to any such wicked arts of thieving, can have true peace of mind, under the reproaches of a guilty conscience, and amid the cries of ruined widows and orphans. I know not one real advantage that the rich have over the poor, except the power of doing good to others. But this is an advantage which God hath not given wicked men the grace to make use of. The wealth acquired by evil means was never employed to good ends; for that would be to divide the kingdom of Satan against itself. Whatever hath been gained by fraud, avarice, oppression, and the like, must be preserved and increased by the same methods. I shall add but one thing more upon this head, which I hope will convince you, that God (whose thoughts are not as our thoughts) never intended riches or power to be necessary for the happiness of mankind in this life; because it is certain, that there is not one single good quality of the mind absolutely necessary to obtain them, where men are resolved to be rich at any rate; neither honour, justice, temperance, wisdom, religion, truth, or learning; for a slight acquaintance of the world will inform us, that there have been many instances of men, in all ages, who have arrived at great possessions and great dignities, by cunning, fraud, or flattery, without any of these, or any other virtues that can be named. Now, if riches and greatness were such blessings, that good men without them could not have their share of happiness in this life; how cometh it to pass, that God should suffer them to be often dealt to the worst, and most profligate of mankind; that they should be generally procured by the most abominable means, and applied to the basest and most wicked uses? This ought not to be conceived of a just, a merciful, a wise, and Almighty Being. We must therefore conclude, that wealth and power are in their own nature, at best, but things indifferent, and that a good man may be equally happy without them, provided that he hath a sufficiency of the common blessings of human life to answer all the reasonable and virtuous demands of nature, which his industry will provide, and sobriety will prevent his wanting. Agur's prayer, with the reasons of his wish, are full to this purpose: "Give me neither poverty nor riches. Feed me with food convenient for me; lest I be full and deny thee, and say, 'Who is the Lord?' Or, lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain." From what hath been said, I shall, in the second place, offer some considerations, that may be useful for your practice. And here I shall apply myself chiefly to those of the lower sort, for whose comfort and satisfaction this discourse is principally intended. For, having observed the great sin of those, who do not abound in wealth, to be that of murmuring and repining, that God hath dealt his blessings unequally to the sons of men, I thought it would be of great use to remove out of your minds so false and wicked an opinion, by shewing that your condition is really happier than most of you imagine. _First:_ Therefore, it hath been always agreed in the world, that the present happiness of mankind consisted in the ease of our body and the quiet of our mind; but, from what has been already said, it plainly appears, that neither wealth nor power do in any sort contribute to either of these two blessings. If, on the contrary, by multiplying our desires, they increase our discontents; if they destroy our health, gall us with painful diseases, and shorten our life; if they expose us to hatred, to envy, to censure, to a thousand temptations, it is not easy to see why a wise man should make them his choice, for their own sake, although it were in his power. Would any of you, who are in health and strength of body, with moderate food and raiment earned by your own labour, rather choose to be in the rich man's bed, under the torture of the gout, unable to take your natural rest, or natural nourishment, with the additional load of a guilty conscience, reproaching you for injustice, oppressions, covetousness, and fraud? No; but you would take the riches and power, and leave behind the inconveniences that attend them; and so would every man living. But that is more than our share, and God never intended this world for such a place of rest as we would make it; for the Scripture assureth us that it was only designed as a place of trial. Nothing is more frequent, than a man to wish himself in another's condition; yet he seldom doth it without some reserve: He would not be so old; he would not be so sickly; he would not be so cruel; he would not be so insolent; he would not be so vicious; he would not be so oppressive, so griping, and so on. From whence it is plain, that, in their own judgment, men are not so unequally dealt with, as they would at first sight imagine: For, if I would not change my condition with another man, without any exception or reservation at all, I am, in reality, more happy than he. _Secondly_: You of the meaner sort are subject to fewer temptations than the rich; and therefore your vices are more unpardonable. Labour subdueth your appetites to be satisfied with common things; the business of your several callings filleth up your whole time; so that idleness, which is the bane and destruction of virtue, doth not lead you into the neighbourhood of sin: Your passions are cooler, by not being inflamed with excess, and therefore the gate and the way that lead to life are not so straight and so narrow to you, as to those who live among all the allurements to wickedness. To serve God with the best of your care and understanding, and to be just and true in your dealings, is the short sum of your duty, and will be the more strictly required of you, because nothing lieth in the way to divert you from it. _Thirdly_: It is plain from what I have said, that you of the lower rank have no just reason to complain of your condition: Because, as you plainly see, it affordeth you so many advantages, and freeth you from so many vexations, so many distempers both of body and mind, which pursue and torment the rich and powerful. _Fourthly_: You are to remember and apply, that the poorest person is not excused from doing good to others, and even relieving the wants of his distressed neighbour, according to his abilities; and if you perform your duty in this point, you far outdo the greatest liberalities of the rich, and will accordingly be accepted of by God, and get your reward: For it is our Saviour's own doctrine, when the widow gave her two mites. The rich give out of their abundance; that is to say, what they give, they do not feel it in their way of living: But the poor man, who giveth out of his little stock, must spare it from the necessary food and raiment of himself and his family. And, therefore, our Saviour adds, "That the widow gave more than all who went before her; for she gave all she had, even all her living;" and so went home utterly unprovided to supply her necessities. _Lastly_: As it appeareth from what hath been said, that you in the lower rank have, in reality, a greater share of happiness, your work of salvation is easier, by your being liable to fewer temptations; and as your reward in Heaven is much more certain than it is to the rich, if you seriously perform your duty, for yours is the Kingdom of Heaven; so your neglect of it will be less excusable, will meet with fewer allowances from God, and will be punished with double stripes: For the most unknowing among you cannot plead ignorance of what you have been so early taught, I hope, so often instructed in, and which is so easy to be understood, I mean the art of leading a life agreeable to the plain and positive laws of God. Perhaps you may think you lie under one disadvantage, which the great and rich have not; that idleness will certainly reduce you to beggary; whereas those who abound in wealth lie under no necessity either of labour or temperance to keep enough to live on. But this is indeed one part of your happiness, that the lowness of your condition, in a manner, forceth you to what is pleasing to God, and necessary for your daily support. Thus your duty and interest are always the same. To conclude: Since our blessed Lord, instead of a rich and honourable station in this world, was pleased to choose his lot among men of the lower condition; let not those, on whom the bounty of Providence hath bestowed wealth and honours, despise the men who are placed in a humble and inferior station; but rather, with their utmost power, by their countenance, by their protection, by just payment of their honest labour, encourage their daily endeavours for the support of themselves and their families. On the other hand, let the poor labour to provide things honest in the sight of all men; and so, with diligence in their several employments, live soberly, righteously, and godlily in this present world, that they may obtain that glorious reward promised in the Gospel to the poor, I mean the kingdom of Heaven. Now, to God the Father, &c, A SERMON ON THE CAUSES OF THE WRETCHED CONDITION OF IRELAND.[1] [Footnote 1: This is not very properly styled a sermon; but, considered as a political dissertation, it has great merit, and it is highly worthy of the subject, and the author. Most of the circumstances here founded upon, as the causes of national distress, are the subject of separate disquisitions in those political writings connected with Ireland. But they are here summed up, and brought into one view; and the opinions expressed form a sort of index to the Dean's tenets upon the state of that country. [S.]] PSALM CXLIV. PART OF THE 14TH AND 15TH VERSES. "That there be no complaining in our streets. Happy is the people that is in such a case." It is a very melancholy reflection, that such a country as ours, which is capable of producing all things necessary, and most things convenient for life, sufficient for the support of four times the number of its inhabitants, should yet lie under the heaviest load of misery and want, our streets crowded with beggars, so many of our lower sort of tradesmen, labourers, and artificers, not able to find clothes and food for their families. I think it may therefore be of some use to lay before you the chief causes of this wretched condition we are in, and then it will be easier to assign what remedies are in our power toward removing, at least, some part of these evils. For it is ever to be lamented, that we lie under many disadvantages, not by our own faults, which are peculiar to ourselves, and which no other nation under heaven hath any reason to complain of. I shall, therefore, first mention some causes of our miseries,--which I doubt are not to be remedied, until God shall put it in the hearts of those who are stronger to allow us the common rights and privileges of brethren, fellow-subjects, and even of mankind. The first cause of our misery is the intolerable hardships we lie under in every branch of our trade, by which we are become as hewers of wood, and drawers of water, to our rigorous neighbours. The second cause of our miserable state is the folly, the vanity, and ingratitude of those vast numbers, who think themselves too good to live in the country which gave them birth, and still gives them bread; and rather choose to pass their days, and consume their wealth, and draw out the very vitals of their mother kingdom, among those who heartily despise them. These I have but lightly touched on, because I fear they are not to be redressed, and, besides, I am very sensible how ready some people are to take offence at the honest truth; and, for that reason, I shall omit several other grievances, under which we are long likely to groan. I shall therefore go on to relate some other causes of this nation's poverty, by which, if they continue much longer, it must infallibly sink to utter ruin. The first is, that monstrous pride and vanity in both sexes, especially the weaker sex, who, in the midst of poverty, are suffered to run into all kind of expense and extravagance in dress, and particularly priding themselves to wear nothing but what cometh from abroad, disdaining the growth or manufacture of their own country, in those articles where they can be better served at home with half the expense; and this is grown to such a height, that they will carry the whole yearly rent of a good estate at once on their body. And, as there is in that sex a spirit of envy, by which they cannot endure to see others in a better habit than themselves, so those, whose fortunes can hardly support their families in the necessaries of life, will needs vie with the richest and greatest amongst us, to the ruin of themselves and their posterity. Neither are the men less guilty of this pernicious folly, who, in imitation of a gaudiness and foppery of dress, introduced of late years into our neighbouring kingdom, (as fools are apt to imitate only the defects of their betters,) cannot find materials in their own country worthy to adorn their bodies of clay, while their minds are naked of every valuable quality. Thus our tradesmen and shopkeepers, who deal in home goods, are left in a starving condition, and only those encouraged who ruin the kingdom by importing among us foreign vanities. Another cause of our low condition is our great luxury, the chief support of which is the materials of it brought to the nation in exchange for the few valuable things left us, whereby so many thousand families want the very necessaries of life. _Thirdly_, In most parts of this kingdom the natives are from their infancy so given up to idleness and sloth, that they often choose to beg or steal, rather than support themselves with their own labour; they marry without the least view or thought of being able to make any provision for their families; and whereas, in all industrious nations, children are looked on as a help to their parents; with us, for want of being early trained to work, they are an intolerable burthen at home, and a grievous charge upon the public, as appeareth from the vast number of ragged and naked children in town and country, led about by strolling women, trained up in ignorance and all manner of vice. _Lastly_, A great cause of this nation's misery, is that Egyptian bondage of cruel, oppressing, covetous landlords, expecting that all who live under them should make bricks without straw, who grieve and envy when they see a tenant of their own in a whole coat, or able to afford one comfortable meal in a month, by which the spirits of the people are broken, and made for slavery; the farmers and cottagers, almost through the whole kingdom, being to all intents and purposes as real beggars as any of those to whom we give our charity in the streets. And these cruel landlords are every day unpeopling their kingdom, by forbidding their miserable tenants to till the earth, against common reason and justice, and contrary to the practice and prudence of all other nations, by which numberless families have been forced either to leave the kingdom, or stroll about, and increase the number of our thieves and beggars. Such, and much worse, is our condition at present, if I had leisure or liberty to lay it before you; and, therefore, the next thing which might be considered is, whether there may be any probable remedy found, at the least against some part of these evils; for most of them are wholly desperate. But this being too large a subject to be now handled, and the intent of my discourse confining me to give some directions concerning the poor of this city, I shall keep myself within those limits. It is indeed in the power of the lawgivers to found a school in every parish of the kingdom, for teaching the meaner and poorer sort of children to speak and read the English tongue, and to provide a reasonable maintenance for the teachers. This would, in time, abolish that part of barbarity and ignorance, for which our natives are so despised by all foreigners: this would bring them to think and act according to the rules of reason, by which a spirit of industry, and thrift, and honesty would be introduced among them. And, indeed, considering how small a tax would suffice for such a work, it is a public scandal that such a thing should never have been endeavoured, or, perhaps, so much as thought on. To supply the want of such a law, several pious persons, in many parts of this kingdom, have been prevailed on, by the great endeavours and good example set them by the clergy, to erect charity-schools in several parishes, to which very often the richest parishioners contribute the least. In those schools, children are, or ought to be, trained up to read and write, and cast accounts; and these children should, if possible, be of honest parents, gone to decay through age, sickness, or other unavoidable calamity, by the hand of God; not the brood of wicked strollers; for it is by no means reasonable, that the charity of well-inclined people should be applied to encourage the lewdness of those profligate, abandoned women, who crowd our streets with their borrowed or spurious issue. In those hospitals which have good foundations and rents to support them, whereof, to the scandal of Christianity, there are very few in this kingdom; I say, in such hospitals, the children maintained ought to be only of decayed citizens, and freemen, and be bred up to good trades. But in these small-parish charity-schools which have no support, but the casual goodwill of charitable people, I do altogether disapprove the custom of putting the children 'prentice, except to the very meanest trades; otherwise the poor honest citizen, who is just able to bring up his child, and pay a small sum of money with him to a good master, is wholly defeated, and the bastard issue, perhaps, of some beggar preferred before him. And hence we come to be so overstocked with 'prentices and journeymen, more than our discouraged country can employ; and, I fear, the greatest part of our thieves, pickpockets, and other vagabonds are of this number. Therefore, in order to make these parish charity-schools of great and universal use, I agree with the opinion of many wise persons, that a new turn should be given to this whole matter. I think there is no complaint more just than what we find in almost every family, of the folly and ignorance, the fraud and knavery, the idleness and viciousness, the wasteful squandering temper of servants, who are, indeed, become one of the many public grievances of the kingdom; whereof, I believe, there are few masters that now hear me who are not convinced by their own experience. And I am not very confident, that more families, of all degrees, have been ruined by the corruptions of servants, than by all other causes put together. Neither is this to be wondered at, when we consider from what nurseries so many of them are received into our houses. The first is the tribe of wicked boys, wherewith most corners of this town are pestered, who haunt public doors. These, having been born of beggars, and bred to pilfer as soon as they can go or speak, as years come on, are employed in the lowest offices to get themselves bread, are practised in all manner of villainy, and when they are grown up, if they are not entertained in a gang of thieves, are forced to seek for a service. The other nursery is the barbarous and desert part of the country, from whence such lads come up hither to seek their fortunes, who are bred up from the dunghill in idleness, ignorance, lying, and thieving. From these two nurseries, I say, a great number of our servants come to us, sufficient to corrupt all the rest. Thus, the whole race of servants in this kingdom have gotten so ill a reputation, that some persons from England, come over hither into great stations, are said to have absolutely refused admitting any servant born among us into their families. Neither can they be justly blamed; for although it is not impossible to find an honest native fit for a good service, yet the inquiry is too troublesome, and the hazard too great for a stranger to attempt. If we consider the many misfortunes that befall private families, it will be found that servants are the causes and instruments of them all: Are our goods embezzled, wasted and destroyed? Is our house burnt down to the ground? It is by the sloth, the drunkenness or the villainy of servants. Are we robbed and murdered in our beds? It is by confederacy with our servants. Are we engaged in quarrels and misunderstandings with our neighbours? These were all begun and inflamed by the false, malicious tongues of our servants. Are the secrets of our families betrayed, and evil repute spread of us? Our servants were the authors. Do false accusers rise up against us (an evil too frequent in this country)? They have been tampering with our servants. Do our children discover folly, malice, pride, cruelty, revenge, undutifulness in their words and actions? Are they seduced to lewdness or scandalous marriages? It is all by our servants. Nay, the very mistakes, follies, blunders, and absurdities of those in our service, are able to ruffle and discompose the mildest nature, and are often of such consequence, as to put whole families into confusion. Since therefore not only our domestic peace and quiet, and the welfare of our children, but even the very safety of our lives, reputations, and fortunes have so great a dependence upon the choice of our servants, I think it would well become the wisdom of the nation to make some provision in so important an affair. But in the meantime, and, perhaps, to better purpose, it were to be wished, that the children of both sexes, entertained in the parish charity-schools, were bred up in such a manner as would give them a teachable disposition, and qualify them to learn whatever is required in any sort of service. For instance, they should be taught to read and write, to know somewhat in casting accounts, to understand the principles of religion, to practise cleanliness, to get a spirit of honesty, industry, and thrift, and be severely punished for every neglect in any of these particulars. For, it is the misfortune of mankind, that if they are not used to be taught in their early childhood, whereby to acquire what I call a teachable disposition, they cannot, without great difficulty, learn the easiest thing in the course of their lives, but are always awkward and unhandy; their minds, as well as bodies, for want of early practice, growing stiff and unmanageable, as we observe in the sort of gentlemen, who, kept from school by the indulgence of their parents but a few years, are never able to recover the time they have lost, and grow up in ignorance and all manner of vice, whereof we have too many examples all over the nation. But to return to what I was saying: If these charity children were trained up in the manner I mentioned, and then bound apprentices in the families of gentlemen and citizens, (for which a late law giveth great encouragement) being accustomed from their first entrance to be always learning some useful thing, [they] would learn, in a month, more than another, without those advantages, can do in a year; and, in the meantime, be very useful in a family, as far as their age and strength would allow. And when such children come to years of discretion, they will probably be a useful example to their fellow-servants, at least they will prove a strong check upon the rest; for, I suppose, everybody will allow, that one good, honest, diligent servant in a house may prevent abundance of mischief in the family. These are the reasons for which I urge this matter so strongly, and I hope those who listen to me will consider them. I shall now say something about that great number of poor, who, under the name of common beggars, infest our streets, and fill our ears with their continual cries, and craving importunity. This I shall venture to call an unnecessary evil, brought upon us for the gross neglect, and want of proper management, in those whose duty it is to prevent it. But before I proceed farther, let me humbly presume to vindicate the justice and mercy of God and His dealings with mankind. Upon this particular He hath not dealt so hardly with His creatures as some would imagine, when they see so many miserable objects ready to perish for want: For it would infallibly be found, upon strict enquiry, that there is hardly one in twenty of those miserable objects who do not owe their present poverty to their own faults, to their present sloth and negligence, to their indiscreet marriage without the least prospect of supporting a family, to their foolish expensiveness, to their drunkenness, and other vices, by which they have squandered their gettings, and contracted diseases in their old age. And, to speak freely, is it any way reasonable or just, that those who have denied themselves many lawful satisfactions and conveniences of life, from a principle of conscience, as well as prudence, that they might not be a burthen to the public, should be charged with supporting others, who have brought themselves to less than a morsel of bread by their idleness, extravagance, and vice? Yet such, and no other, are far the greatest number not only in those who beg in our streets, but even of what we call poor decayed housekeepers, whom we are apt to pity as real objects of charity, and distinguish them from common beggars, although, in truth, they both owe their undoing to the same causes; only the former is either too nicely bred to endure walking half naked in the streets, or too proud to own their wants. For the artificer or other tradesman, who pleadeth he is grown too old to work or look after business, and therefore expecteth assistance as a decayed housekeeper; may we not ask him, why he did not take care, in his youth and strength of days, to make some provision against old age, when he saw so many examples before him of people undone by their idleness and vicious extravagance? And to go a little higher; whence cometh it that so many citizens and shopkeepers, of the most creditable trade, who once made a good figure, go to decay by their expensive pride and vanity, affecting to educate and dress their children above their abilities, or the state of life they ought to expect? However, since the best of us have too many infirmities to answer for, we ought not to be severe upon those of others; and therefore if our brother, through grief, or sickness, or other incapacity, is not in a condition to preserve his being, we ought to support him to the best of our power, without reflecting over seriously on the causes that brought him to his misery. But in order to this, and to turn our charity into its proper channel, we ought to consider who and where those objects are, whom it is chiefly incumbent upon us to support. By the ancient law of this realm, still in force, every parish is obliged to maintain its own poor, which although some may think to be not very equal, because many parishes are very rich, and have few poor among them, and others the contrary; yet, I think, may be justly defended: For as to remote country parishes in the desert part of the kingdom, the necessaries of life are there so cheap, that the infirm poor may be provided for with little burden to the inhabitants. But in what I am going to say, I shall confine myself only to this city, where we are overrun not only with our own poor, but with a far greater number from every part of the nation. Now, I say, this evil of being encumbered with so many foreign beggars, who have not the least title to our charity, and whom it is impossible for us to support, may be easily remedied, if the government of this city, in conjunction with the clergy and parish officers, would think it worth their care; and I am sure few things deserve it better. For, if every parish would take a list of those begging poor which properly belong to it, and compel each of them to wear a badge, marked and numbered, so as to be seen and known by all they meet, and confine them to beg within the limits of their own parish, severely punishing them when they offend, and driving out all interlopers from other parishes, we could then make a computation of their numbers; and the strollers from the country being driven away, the remainder would not be too many for the charity of those who pass by to maintain; neither would any beggar, although confined to his own parish, be hindered from receiving the charity of the whole town; because, in this case, those well-disposed persons who walk the streets will give their charity to such whom they think proper objects, wherever they meet them, provided they are found in their own parishes, and wearing their badges of distinction. And, as to those parishes which bordered upon the skirts and suburbs of the town, where country strollers are used to harbour themselves, they must be forced to go back to their homes, when they find nobody to relieve them, because they want that mark which only gives them licence to beg. Upon this point, it were to be wished, that inferior parish officers had better encouragement given them to perform their duty in driving away all beggars who do not belong to the parish, instead of conniving at them, as it is said they do for some small contribution: For the whole city would save much more by ridding themselves of many hundred beggars, than they would lose by giving parish officers a reasonable support. It should seem a strange, unaccountable thing, that those who have probably been reduced to want by riot, lewdness, and idleness, although they have assurance enough to beg alms publicly from all they meet, should yet be too proud to wear the parish badge, which would turn so much to their own advantage, by ridding them of such great numbers, who now intercept the greatest part of what belongeth to them: Yet it is certain, that there are very many who publicly declare they will never wear those badges, and many others who either hide or throw them away: But the remedy for this is very short, easy, and just, by trying them like vagabonds and sturdy beggars, and forcibly driving them out of the town. Therefore, as soon as this expedient of wearing badges shall be put in practice, I do earnestly exhort all those who hear me, never to give their alms to any public beggar who doth not fully comply with this order, by which our number of poor will be so reduced, that it will be much easier to provide for the rest. Our shop-doors will be no longer crowded with so many thieves and pickpockets, in beggars' habits, nor our streets so dangerous to those who are forced to walk in the night. Thus I have, with great freedom, delivered my thoughts upon this subject, which so nearly concerneth us. It is certainly a bad scheme, to any Christian country, which God hath blessed with fruitfulness, and where the people enjoy the just rights and privileges of mankind, that there should be any beggars at all. But, alas! among us, where the whole nation itself is almost reduced to beggary by the disadvantages we lie under, and the hardships we are forced to bear; the laziness, ignorance, thoughtlessness, squandering temper, slavish nature, and uncleanly manner of living in the poor Popish natives, together with the cruel oppressions of their landlords, who delight to see their vassals in the dust; I say, that, in such a nation, how can we otherwise expect than to be over-run with objects of misery and want? Therefore, there can be no other method to free this city from so intolerable a grievance, than by endeavouring, as far as in us lies, that the burthen may be more equally divided, by contributing to maintain our own poor, and forcing the strollers and vagabonds to return to their several homes in the country, there to smite the conscience of those oppressors, who first stripped them of all their substance. I might here, if the time would permit, offer many arguments to persuade to works of charity; but you hear them so often from the pulpit, that I am willing to hope you may not now want them. Besides, my present design was only to shew where your alms would be best bestowed, to the honour of God, your own ease and advantage, the service of your country, and the benefit of the poor. I desire you will all weigh and consider what I have spoken, and, according to your several stations and abilities, endeavour to put it in practice; and God give you good success. To Whom, with the Son and Holy Ghost, be all honour, &c. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, &c. A SERMON UPON SLEEPING IN CHURCH. ACTS, CHAP. XX. VER. 9. "And there sat in a window a certain young man, named _Eutychus_, being fallen into a deep sleep; and as _Paul_ was long preaching, he sunk down with sleep, and fell down from the third loft, and was taken up dead." I have chosen these words with design, if possible, to disturb some part in this audience of half an hour's sleep, for the convenience and exercise whereof this place, at this season of the day, is very much celebrated. There is indeed one mortal disadvantage to which all preaching is subject; that those who, by the wickedness of their lives, stand in greatest need, have usually the smallest share; for either they are absent upon the account of idleness, or spleen, or hatred to religion, or in order to doze away the intemperance of the week; or, if they do come, they are sure to employ their minds rather any other way, than regarding or attending to the business of the place. The accident which happened to this young man in the text, hath not been sufficient to discourage his successors: But because the preachers now in the world, however they may exceed St Paul in the art of setting men to sleep, do extremely fall short of him in the working of miracles; therefore men are become so cautious as to choose more safe and convenient stations and postures for taking their repose, without hazard of their persons; and, upon the whole matter, choose rather to trust their destruction to a miracle, than their safety. However, this being not the only way by which the lukewarm Christians and scorners of the age discover their neglect and contempt of preaching, I shall enter expressly into consideration of this matter, and order my discourse in the following method: _First:_ I shall produce several instances to shew the great neglect of preaching now amongst us. _Secondly:_ I shall reckon up some of the usual quarrels men have against preaching. _Thirdly:_ I shall set forth the great evil of this neglect and contempt of preaching, and discover the real causes from whence it proceedeth. _Lastly:_ I shall offer some remedies against this great and spreading evil. _First:_ I shall produce certain instances to shew the great neglect of preaching now among us. These may be reduced under two heads. First, men's absence from the service of the Church; and secondly, their misbehaviour when they are here. The first instance of men's neglect, is in their frequent absence from the church. There is no excuse so trivial, that will not pass upon some men's consciences to excuse their attendance at the public worship of God. Some are so unfortunate as to be always indisposed on the Lord's day, and think nothing so unwholesome as the air of a church. Others have their affairs so oddly contrived, as to be always unluckily prevented by business. With some it is a great mark of wit, and deep understanding, to stay at home on Sundays. Others again discover strange fits of laziness, that seize them, particularly on that day, and confine them to their beds. Others are absent out of mere contempt of religion. And, lastly, there are not a few who look upon it as a day of rest, and therefore claim the privilege of their cattle, to keep the Sabbath by eating, drinking, and sleeping, after the toil and labour of the week. Now in all this the worst circumstance is, that these persons are such whose companies are most required, and who stand most in need of a physician. _Secondly:_ Men's great neglect and contempt of preaching, appear by their misbehaviour when at church. If the audience were to be ranked under several heads according to their behaviour, when the word of God is delivered, how small a number would appear of those who receive it as they ought? How much of the seed then sown would be found to fall by the way-side, upon stony ground or among thorns? And how little good ground would there be to take it? A preacher cannot look round from the pulpit, without observing, that some are in a perpetual whisper, and, by their air and gesture, give occasion to suspect, that they are in those very minutes defaming their neighbour. Others have their eyes and imagination constantly engaged in such a circle of objects, perhaps to gratify the most unwarrantable desires, that they never once attend to the business of the place; the sound of the preacher's words doth not so much as once interrupt them. Some have their minds wandering among idle, worldly, or vicious thoughts. Some lie at catch to ridicule whatever they hear, and with much wit and humour provide a stock of laughter, by furnishing themselves from the pulpit. But, of all misbehaviour, none is comparable to that of those who come here to sleep; opium is not so stupefying to many persons as an afternoon sermon. Perpetual custom hath so brought it about, that the words, of whatever preacher, become only a sort of uniform sound at a distance, than which nothing is more effectual to lull the senses. For, that it is the very sound of the sermon which bindeth up their faculties, is manifest from hence, because they all awake so very regularly as soon as it ceaseth, and with much devotion receive the blessing, dozed and besotted with indecencies I am ashamed to repeat. I proceed, _Secondly_, to reckon up some of the usual quarrels men have against preaching, and to shew the unreasonableness of them. Such unwarrantable demeanour as I have described, among Christians, in the house of God, in a solemn assembly, while their faith and duty are explained and delivered, have put those who are guilty upon inventing some excuses to extenuate their fault: This they do by turning the blame either upon the particular preacher, or upon preaching in general. First, they object against the particular preacher; his manner, his delivery, his voice are disagreeable, his style and expression are flat and low; sometimes improper and absurd; the matter is heavy, trivial and insipid; sometimes despicable, and perfectly ridiculous; or else, on the other side, he runs up into unintelligible speculation, empty notions, and abstracted flights, all clad in words above usual understandings. Secondly, They object against preaching in general; it is a perfect road of talk; they know already whatever can be said; they have heard the same an hundred times over. They quarrel that preachers do not relieve an old beaten subject with wit and invention; and that now the art is lost of moving men's passions, so common among the ancient orators of Greece and Rome. These, and the like objections, are frequently in the mouths of men who despise the "foolishness of preaching." But let us examine the reasonableness of them. The doctrine delivered by all preachers is the same: "So we preach, and so ye believe:" But the manner of delivering is suited to the skill and abilities of each, which differ in preachers just as in the rest of mankind. However, in personal dislikes of a particular preacher, are these men sure they are always in the right? Do they consider how mixed a thing is every audience, whose taste and judgment differ, perhaps, every day, not only from each other, but themselves? And how to calculate a discourse, that shall exactly suit them all, is beyond the force and reach of human reason, knowledge, or invention. Wit and eloquence are shining qualities, that God hath imparted, in great degrees, to very few, nor any more to be expected, in the generality of any rank among men, than riches and honour. But further: If preaching in general be all old and beaten, and that they are already so well acquainted with it, more shame and guilt to them who so little edify by it. But these men, whose ears are so delicate as not to endure a plain discourse of religion, who expect a constant supply of wit and eloquence on a subject handled so many thousand times; what will they say when we turn the objection upon themselves, who, with all the rude and profane liberty of discourse they take, upon so many thousand subjects, are so dull as to furnish nothing but tedious repetitions, and little paltry, nauseous common-places, so vulgar, so worn, or so obvious, as, upon any other occasion, but that of advancing vice, would be hooted off the stage? Nor, lastly, are preachers justly blamed for neglecting human oratory to move the passions, which is not the business of a Christian orator, whose office it is only to work upon faith and reason. All other eloquence hath been a perfect cheat, to stir up men's passions against truth and justice, for the service of a faction, to put false colours upon things, and by an amusement of agreeable words, make the worse reason appear to be the better. This is certainly not to be allowed in Christian eloquence, and, therefore, St Paul took quite the other course; he "came not with excellency of words, or enticing speech of men's wisdom, but in plain evidence of the Spirit and power." And perhaps it was for that reason the young man Eutychus, used to the Grecian eloquence, grew tired and fell so fast asleep. I go on, _Thirdly_, to set forth the great evil of this neglect and scorn of preaching, and to discover the real causes from whence it proceedeth. I think it is obvious,[1] that this neglect of preaching hath very much occasioned the great decay of religion among us. To this may be imputed no small part of that contempt some men bestow on the clergy; for, whoever talketh without being regarded, is sure to be despised. To this we owe, in a great measure, the spreading of atheism and infidelity among us; for religion, like all other things, is soonest put out of countenance by being ridiculed. The scorn of preaching might perhaps have been at first introduced by men of nice ears and refined taste; but it is now become a spreading evil, through all degrees, and both sexes; for, since sleeping, talking, and laughing are qualities sufficient to furnish out a critic, the meanest and most ignorant have set up a title, and succeeded in it as well as their betters. Thus are the last efforts of reforming mankind rendered wholly useless: "How shall they hear," saith the apostle, "without a preacher?" But, if they have a preacher, and make it a point of wit or breeding not to hear him, what remedy is left? To this neglect of preaching, we may also entirely impute that gross ignorance among us in the very principles of religion, which it is amazing to find in persons who very much value their own knowledge and understanding in other things; yet, it is a visible, inexcusable ignorance, even in the meanest among us, considering the many advantages they have of learning their duty. And it hath been the great encouragement to all manner of vice: For, in vain we preach down sin to a people, "whose hearts are waxed gross, whose ears are dull of hearing, and whose eyes are closed." Therefore Christ Himself, in His discourses, frequently rouseth up the attention of the multitude, and of His disciples themselves, with this expression, "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." But, among all neglects of preaching, none is so fatal as that of sleeping in the house of God; a scorner may listen to truth and reason, and in time grow serious; an unbeliever may feel the pangs of a guilty conscience; one whose thoughts or eyes wander among other objects, may, by a lucky word, be called back to attention: But the sleeper shuts up all avenues to his soul: He is "like the deaf adder, that hearkeneth not to the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely." And, we may preach with as good success to the grave that is under his feet. [Footnote 1: Hawkesworth (Swift's "Works," vol. xiii., 1762) inserts here "to believe." [T.S.]] But the great evil of this neglect will further yet appear, from considering the real causes whence it proceedeth; whereof the first, I take to be, an evil conscience. Many men come to church to save or gain a reputation; or because they will not be singular, but comply with an established custom; yet, all the while, they are loaded with the guilt of old rooted sins. These men can expect to hear of nothing but terrors and threatenings, their sins laid open in true colours, and eternal misery the reward of them; therefore, no wonder they stop their ears, and divert their thoughts, and seek any amusement rather than stir the hell within them. Another cause of this neglect is, a heart set upon worldly things. Men whose minds are much enslaved to earthly affairs all the week, cannot disengage or break the chain of their thoughts so suddenly, as to apply to a discourse that is wholly foreign to what they have most at heart. Tell a usurer of charity, and mercy, and restitution, you talk to the deaf; his heart and soul, with all his senses, are got among his bags, or he is gravely asleep, and dreaming of a mortgage. Tell a man of business, that the cares of the world choke the good seed; that we must not encumber ourselves with much serving; that the salvation of his soul is the one thing necessary: You see, indeed, the shape of a man before you, but his faculties are all gone off among clients and papers, thinking how to defend a bad cause, or find flaws in a good one; or, he weareth out the time in drowsy nods. A third cause of the great neglect and scorn of preaching, ariseth from the practice of men who set up to decry and disparage religion; these, being zealous to promote infidelity and vice, learn a rote of buffoonery that serveth all occasions, and refutes the strongest arguments for piety and good manners. These have a set of ridicule calculated for all sermons, and all preachers, and can be extreme witty as often as they please upon the same fund. Let me now, in the last place, offer some remedies against this great evil. It will be one remedy against the contempt of preaching, rightly to consider the end for which it was designed. There are many who place abundance of merit in going to church, although it be with no other prospect but that of being well entertained, wherein if they happen to fail, they return wholly disappointed. Hence it is become an impertinent vein among people of all sorts to hunt after what they call a good sermon, as if it were a matter of pastime and diversion. Our business, alas! is quite another thing, either to learn, or, at least, be reminded of our duty, to apply the doctrines delivered, compare the rules we hear with our lives and actions, and find wherein we have transgressed. These are the dispositions men should bring into the house of God, and then they will be little concerned about the preacher's wit or eloquence, nor be curious to enquire out his faults and infirmities, but consider how to correct their own. Another remedy against the contempt of preaching, is, that men would consider, whether it be not reasonable to give more allowances for the different abilities of preachers than they usually do; refinements of style, and flights of wit, as they are not properly the business of any preacher, so they cannot possibly be the talents of all. In most other discourses, men are satisfied with sober sense and plain reason; and, as understandings usually go, even that is not over frequent. Then why they should be so over nice in expectation of eloquence,[2] where it is neither necessary nor convenient, is hard to imagine. [Footnote 2: Hawkesworth (1762 edit.) has "over nice and expecting for sense"; but both the 4to and the 8vo of 1764 agree with Scott as above. [T.S.]] _Lastly:_ The scorners of preaching would do well to consider, that this talent of ridicule, they value so much, is a perfection very easily acquired, and applied to all things whatsoever; neither is anything at all the worse, because it is capable of being perverted to burlesque: Perhaps it may be the more perfect upon that score; since we know, the most celebrated pieces have been thus treated with greatest success. It is in any man's power to suppose a fool's cap on the wisest head, and then laugh at his own supposition. I think there are not many things cheaper than supposing and laughing; and if the uniting these two talents can bring a thing into contempt, it is hard to know where it may end. _To conclude:_ These considerations may, perhaps, have some effect while men are awake; but what arguments shall we use to the sleeper? What methods shall we take to hold open his eyes? Will he be moved by considerations of common civility? We know it is reckoned a point of very bad manners to sleep in private company, when, perhaps, the tedious impertinence of many talkers would render it at least as excusable as at the dullest sermon. Do they think it a small thing to watch four hours at a play, where all virtue and religion are openly reviled; and can they not watch one half hour to hear them defended? Is this to deal like a judge, (I mean like a good judge) to listen on one side of the cause, and sleep on the other? I shall add but one word more: That this indecent sloth is very much owing to that luxury and excess men usually practise upon this day, by which half the service thereof is turned to sin; men dividing the time between God and their bellies, when after a gluttonous meal, their senses dozed and stupefied, they retire to God's house to sleep out the afternoon. Surely, brethren, these things ought not so to be. "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." And God give us all grace to hear and receive His holy word to the salvation of our own souls. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** APPENDIX I. SWIFT'S REMARKS ON DR GIBBS'S PARAPHRASE OF THE PSALMS. NOTE. "THE following manuscript was literally copied from the printed original found in the library of Dr. J. Swift, Dean of St Patrick's, Dublin, in the year 1745. The marginal notes and parodies were written by the Dean's own hand, except such as are distinguished with this mark [O/] with which I am only chargeable. Witness my hand, this 25th day of February, 1745. WILLIAM DUNKIN. "N.B.--The original was by me presented to his excellency Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, lord lieutenant general and general governor of Ireland. W.D." The manuscript to which Dr. Dunkin refers is in the library of Trinity College, Dublin. The present text is taken from a transcript which is at the South Kensington Museum, and which appears to be the identical transcript used by Nichols for his reprint in the quarto edition, vol. xiv. At the end of this MS. is the following note: "The above was written from the manuscript mentioned in the first page, now in the hands of Nicholas Coyne, Esq., being the only copy in the kingdom of Ireland; he having purchased the original, and afterwards generously given it to his friend Dr. Dunkin, finding the doctor extremely uneasy at the disappointment the Earl of Chesterfield was like to meet with, as he had promised the earl to attend the auction, and procure it for him at any price; and is now transcribed by Neale Molloy, of Dublin, Esq'r, by the favour of the said Nicholas Coyne, his brother-in-law; and sent by him to his kinsman, and dear friend, Charles Molloy, of London, Esq're. "_Dublin, 26th, of May_, 1748." The "Epistle Dedicatory" to Princess Anne, in Dr. Gibbs's volume, has also been annotated, chiefly by Dr. Dunkin; but as these are mostly too filthy to be published, I have omitted the few notes by Swift, which consist merely of marginalia corrections of words and a few satirical interpolations of no great consequence. I have corrected Dr. Gibbs's text by the original edition of his "Paraphrase" (1701). The corrections were necessary, since the transcript could not be absolutely relied on. [T.S.] APPENDIX I. DR SWIFT'S REMARKS On "The first Fifteen Psalms of David, translated into Lyric Verse: Proposed as an Essay, supplying the Perspicuity and Coherence according to the Modern Art of Poetry; not known to have been attempted before in any Language. With a Preface containing some Observations of the great and general Defectiveness of former Versions in Greek, Latin, and English. By Dr. [James] Gibbs. London: printed by J. Mathews, for John Hartley, over-against Gray's-Inn, in Holborn. MDCCI." THE FIRST FIFTEEN PSALMS, TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE. DR GIBBS. DR SWIFT. I. PSALM OF DAVID, (1) (1)I warn the reader that _Comparing the different state of the this is a lie, both here righteous and the wicked, both in this and all over the book; and the next world._ for these are not Psalms of David, but of Dr. Gibbs. 1 Thrice happy he! that does refuse. (2) But I suppose with With _impious_ (2) _sinners_ to combine; _pious_ sinners a man may Who ne'er their wicked way pursues, combine safely enough And does the scorner's _seat_(3)_decline_ (3)What part of speech is it? 2 But still to learn, and to obey (4) All. The Law of God is his delight; In that employs himself all day, (5) A man must have And reads and thinks thereon at(4) some time to sleep; so night.(5) that I will change the verse thus: "And thinks and dreams thereon all night." 3 For as a tree, whose spreading root (6) Look ye; you must By some prolific stream is fed, thin the boughs at the Produces (6) fair and timely fruit, top, or your fruit will And numerous boughs adorn its head: be neither fair or Whose (7) very leaves, tho' storms descend, timely. In lively verdure still appear (7) Why, what other part Whose (7) very leaves, tho' storms descend, of a tree appears in lively. In lively verdure still appear; verdure, beside the Such blessings always shall attend leaves? The man that does the Lord revere. These very leaves on which you penn'd Your woeful stuff, may serve for squibs: Such blessings always shall attend The madrigals of Dr. Gibbs. 4 Like chaff with every wind disperst:(1) (1) "Disp_u_rst," [rhyming with "curst"] Pronounce this like a blockhead. 6 And these to punishment may go. (2) (2) If they please. ["The above may serve for a tolerable specimen of Swift's remarks. The whole should be given, if it were possible to make them intelligible, without copying the version which is ridiculed; a labour for which our readers would scarcely thank us. A few detached stanzas, however, with the Dean's notes on them, shall be transcribed." Thus writes Scott; but I have added a great many more, which deserve reprinting, if only for their humour. [T.S.]] DR GIBBS. DR SWIFT. II. PSALM OF DAVID. (1) I do not believe that ever kings entered 1 Why do the heathen nations rise, into plots and And in mad tumults join! confederacies against the reign of God Almighty. 2 Confederate kings vain plots (1) devise Against the Almighty's reign: His Royal Title they deny, (2) What word does Whom God appointed Christ; that plural number belong to? 3 Let us reject their (2) laws, they cry, Their binding force resist. 7 And thus to Him was pleased to say, (3) An excellent drug- As I His words declare; (3) german. 9 But those, that do thy laws refuse, (4) After a man is In pieces thou shalt break; broken in pieces, And with an iron sceptre bruise (4) 'tis no great matter Their disobedient (5) _neck_. to have his neck bruised. (5) Neak. 10 Ye earthly kings, the caution _hear_; (6) Rulers must _learn_ Ye rulers, _learn_ the same; (6) it, but kings may only _hear_ it. 11 Serve God with reverence, and with _fear_(7) His joyful praise proclaim; (7) Very proper to make a joyful proclamation with fear. 12 Confess the Son, and own His (8) reign, (8) Of Blackmore's Ere He to wrath inclines; reign. And, so resenting your disdain, Confound your vain designs: (9) (9) You with his lines For should the madness of His foes (1) (1) For should the foes Th' avenging God incense, of David's ape Happy are they that can repose Provoke his grey In Him their confidence. (2) goose quills, Happy are they that can escape The vengeance of his pills. (2) Admirably reasoned and connected! III. PSALM OF DAVID. _When he fled from his son Absalom._ To Dr. Gibbs, _ex aquâ in ignem_. 4 When to the Lord for help I cry, (3) Sec_o_ure. He hears me from the Throne on high; (4) By this I think it 5 And thus I sleep and wake secure, (3) is clear that he cries Guarded by His almighty Power. (4) in his sleep. 6 No fears shall then my soul depress,* *Depre_a_se, Lo_a_rd, Though thus my enemies increase; Scoticé. 7 And (5) therefore, now arise, O Lord,* (5) He desires God's And graciously thy help afford: help, because he is not afraid of his enemies; others, I think, usually desire it when they _are_ afraid. 8 And _thus_ (6) to grant a sure defence, (6) The doctor hath a Belongs to God's (7) omnipotence; mighty affection for the particle _thus_: he uses it four times in this Psalm, and 100 times in other places, and always wrong. (7) That is as much as to say, he that can do all things can defend a man; which I take to be an undoubted truth. IV. PSALM OF DAVID. _Reproving and admonishing his enemies_. Not to burlesque his Psalms. 1 As Thou hast always taken care A pretty phrase! My sufferings to remove. 2 But you, my frail (1) malicious foes, (1) Are they malicious Who do my power despise; out of frailty, or frail Vainly how long will ye oppose, out of malice? And (2) falsely calumnize! (2) That is, they say _false_ things _falsely_. I will discover the doctor's secret of making the coherence and connection, in the Psalms that he brags of in his title and preface: he lays violent hands on certain particles,(such as _and, when, since, for, but, thus, so_, &c.) and presses them to his service on all occasions sore against their wills, and without any regard whether the sense will admit them or no. 3 Since those alone the Lord has blest, (3) 'Tis plain the doctor That do from sin refrain; never requested to be a He therefore grants what I request, (3) poet. And hears when I (4) complain: (4) If your requests be granted, why do you complain? But of Thy face to us do Thou What is it, to The favour still dispense; dispense the favour of his face? 7 Then shall my soul with more divine (5) I have heard of a And solid joys abound, crown or garland of corn, Than they with stores of corn and wine, but a crown of wine is Those earthly riches, crown'd: (5) new, and can hardly be explained, unless we suppose the wine to be in icicles. 8 And thus confiding, Lord, in thee (6) And yet, to shew I I take my calm repose; (6) tell no fibs, For thou each night protectest me Thou hast left me in From all my (7) treacherous foes thrall To Hopkins, eke, and Doctor Gibbs The vilest rogue of all. (7) Aye, and _open_ foes too; or his repose would not be very calm. V. PSALM OF DAVID: Trusting in God, he implores protection Especially Doctor from his enemies._ Gibbs. 1 O Lord, receive my fervent prayer, (1) I suppose he Relieve my soul opprest with care, thought it would be And hear my loud (1) complaint; heard the better for being loud. [Greek: Oion aento mega kekraigenai kai ochlaeson einai.]--LUC. TIM., _Misanth_. 2 On Thee alone I can rely, Do Thou, my God, to whom I fly, My sad (2) petition grant: (2) My poor petition. Ay, a sad one indeed. 5 They on thy favour can't rely, (3) Such vile poetry. That practice such iniquity, (3) What is the meaning of For Thou wilt punish those that word, _such_, in this place? 6 That do malicious lies (4) invent, (4) Malicious lines. And would to death the innocent By treacherous means (5) expose. (5) By doggrel rhimes. 8 Lord, in Thy Laws (6) direct my ways, (6) He perseveres--not Since those my watchful foe surveys, that he values the Laws, And make me persevere: but because his foes watch him. A good principle! 9 They flatter to destroy: 10 But let, O Lord, the vengeance due (7) Horrid rhimes. Those in their horrid crimes (7) pursue, (8) Def_o_y. Who do Thy power defy: (8) VI. PSALM OF DAVID: _Penitently complaining of his sufferings_. By this translator. I Thy heavy hand restrain, (9) (9) Thy heavy hand With mercy, Lord, correct; restrain; Do not, (1) as if in high disdain, Have mercy, Dr. Gibbs: My helpless soul reject: Do not, I pray thee, paper stain 2 For how shall I sustain With rhymes retail'd in (2)Those ills, which now I bear! dribbs. My vitals are consumed with pain, (3)My soul oppress'd with care: (1)That bit is a most glorious botch. (2)The squeaking of a hogrel. (3)To listen to thy doggrel. 5 For in the silent grave, } Very true all that. When there I lie obscure, No gracious favours I can have, Nor magnify Thy power: 6 Lord, I have pray'd in (1) vain (1)The doctor must So long, so much opprest; mean himself, for I hope My very (2) cries increase my pain, David never thought so. And tears prevent my rest; (2)Then he's a dunce 7 These do my sight impair, for crying. My flowing eyes decay, While to my enemies I fear Thus (3) to become a prey. (3)That is, he is afraid of becoming a prey to his enemies while his eyes are sore. 8 But, ye vain forces! fly, (4) (4)Fl_o_y. For God, Whom I adore, Why then does he tell us just before that he has prayed in vain, and is afraid of becoming a prey to his enemies? 9 My impious foes does still destroy, When I His aid implore. 10 O Lord, by Thy fierce hand repell'd, With sudden shame retire (5) A very proper word for a man that is repell'd by a fierce hand. VII, PSALM OF DAVID: _When unjustly persecuted,(6) and accused of (6) By Doctor Gibbs. treachery against King Saul._ I O Lord my God, since I repose (7) By chance. My trust in Thee alone, (7) Save and defend me from my foes, That furiously come on: (8) (8) Advance. 2 Lest, like a ravenous lion, they What sort of lions are My captive soul devour, they that devour souls? 4 If I've not spared him though he's grown(9) (9) Gro_u_n. My causeless (1) enemy, (1) If he be grown his _causeless_ enemy I presume he is no longer _guiltless_. 5 Then let my life, and future (2) crown (2) He gives a thing Become to him a prey: before he has it, and gives it to him that has it already; for Saul is the person meant. 6 But, Lord, thy kind assistance (1) lend, (1) But why _lend?_ Arise in my defence; Does he design to return According to Thy laws, (2) contend it back when he has done For injured innocence: with it? (2) Profane rascal! he makes it a struggle and contention between God and the wicked. 7 That all the nations, that oppose, (3) (3) Opp_a_use. May then confess Thy power: Therefore assert my righteous cause, That they may Thee adore: (4) (4) Ado_u_re. 8 For equal judgment, Lord, to Thee (5) Yet in the very The nations (5) all submit; verse before he tells of Be therefore (6) merciful to me. nations that _oppose_. And my just soul acquit: (7) (6) Because all nations submit to God, therefore God must be merciful to Dr. Gibbs. (7) Of what? 9 Destroy the wicked in their plots: Poor David never could The just with blessings crown: acquit For all the ways and secret thoughts (8) A criminal like thee, Of both to Thee are known. Against his Psalms who couldst commit Such wicked poetry. (8) Thots. 10 Thus by God's gracious providence (9) (9) Observe the I'm still preserved secure, (1) connection. Who all the good and just defends (1) Sec_ou_re. With a resistless (2) power. (2) That's right, doctor; but then there will be no _contending_, as you desired a while ago. 'Tis wonderful that Providence Should save thee from the halter, Who hast in numbers without sense Burlesqued the holy Psalter. 11 All men He does with justice view, (1) That's no great And their iniquity mark of viewing them With direful vengeance can pursue, with justice. God has Or patiently (1) pass by: wiser ends for passing by His vengeance on the wicked, you profane dunce! 13 For He the artillery directs, What's that charge? it The sudden charge ordains, must allude to a charge of gunpowder, or it is nonsense. 15 Lo! now th'inflictions (2) they design'd (2) Ay, but what sort of By others to be borne, things are these Even all the mischiefs (3) in their mind inflictions? Do on themselves return: (4) (3) If the mischiefs be in their mind, what need they return on themselves? are they not there already? (4) Ret_o_rn. 16 By their own treachery betray'd (5) Pills To the same ills, (5) that they Invented, and with those essay'd (6) Rich. To make the poor (6) their prey: Does this verse end according to the more modern art of poetry, as the author speaks in his preface? 17 O Lord, how glorious are the ways Do not these verses end Of Thy good Providence! very sublimely? Thou, Lord, Whose blessed Name I praise, True justice dost dispense VIII. PSALM OF DAVID: 1 The mighty powers, that celebrate That's a lie; for if Thy endless praises, can't relate they The glory they in Heaven survey: can survey it they can easily relate it. 2 _Young_ helpless _infants_ at the breast Young younglings. Their great Creator have confest, [The italics are And in their weakness spoke Thy pow'r, Swift's.] This stanza is just upon the purlieus between sense and nonsense. 4 Lord, what is wretched (7) man, I cry, (7) A very proper epithet Or all his sinful progeny, for those who are scarce That thou to them dost prove so kind! inferior to angels. 5 To honour Thou dost them prefer, A fine cadence that. To angels scarce inferior, 6 They over all Thy works command: 7 The flocks and herds o'er every field (1) That's a lie, for To their just lords obedience yield, sometimes they trespass And all (1) in full subjection stand: on other men's grounds. 8 O'er all the birds, that mount the air, (2) App_ai_r. And fish, that in the floods appear,(2) Man bears an arbitrary sway: Those, I think, are not very many: they are caught, but till then we have no great sway over them. IX. PSALM OF DAVID: 3 Confounded at the sight of Thee (3) The doctor's mistaken; My foes are put to flight; (3) for, when people are confounded, they cannot fly. 4 Thus thou, great God of equity, (4) Against Sternhold Dost still assert my right. (4) and Hopkins. 6 Insulting foes, how long can ye (5) b_o_st. Of ruin'd cities boast! (5) Blunderings, _Siccorrige Your plunderings now as well as they meo periculo_. That's a Are in oblivion lost: lie, for Gibbs remembers them. 7 But God eternally remains (6) (6) That's false and Fixt in His throne on high, profane; God is not fixed anywhere. 8 And to the world from thence ordains (7) Did anybody ever Impartial equity:(7) hear of _partial_ equity? 9 And for their injured souls extend That extending a refuge, A refuge most secure. is pretty. 12 He hears the injured poor, and then _i.e._ is angry at their Does all their cries resent. cries. 13 And thus consider still, O Lord, (8) Nothing is restored The justice of my cause; but what has been taken Who often hast my life (8) restor'd away; so that he has been From death's devouring jaws: often raised from the dead, if this be true. 15 The heathen nations are dismay'd (9) (9) We heard a while They're all to ruin brought, ago their very names were For in the treacherous nets, they laid, dead,[1] now (it seems) Ev'n they themselves are caught: they're only dismay'd. [Footnote 1: Ver. 5. "They and their very names are dead."] 16 Lo, thus the Lord to execute True judgment still inclines; This is profane, as if it were only an inclination in God to be just. X. PSALM OF DAVID: 1 Lord, why in times of deep distress If the woes require aid Dost Thou from us retire, it is to increase them, When dismal woes our souls oppress, they cannot require it And Thy kind aid require! against themselves. 2 The wicked do with lawless pride (1) (1) Proide. Pronounce The helpless persecute; it like the Scotch. But let them be themselves destroy'd, And fall in their pursuit: Ay, let them! 3 For still they triumph, when success I cannot crock this Does their designs attend, stave. And then their ways, who thus oppress, Profanely they commend: * * * * * 5 And from the barbarous (2) paths they tread,(2) The author should No acts of Providence first have premised what Can e'er oblige them to recede, sort of paths were Or stop (3) their bold offence; properly barbarous. I suppose they must be very deep and dirty, or very rugged and stony; both which I myself have heard travellers call barbarous roads. (3) Which is the way to stop an offence? Would you have it stopped like a bottle, or a thief? For what end? is it to catch a louse, better lay wait for the rich by half. 8 And for the poor in secret they Do treacherously lay wait: As a lion observes with 9 As hungry lions do their prey watchful eyes, just so a Observe with watchful eyes, wicked man surprises So heedless innocents would they with sudden force--a very With sudden force surprise; just simile. And then, like lions merciless, They surprise them like Their trembling souls devour; lions, but then they devour And thus the helpless do oppress (4) devour them [like] lions. When captives to their power; (4) This line is dry nonsense or false grammar and will bear no jest. 13 no more No mo_u_r. Pronounce [rhyming with pow'r.] this like my lady's woman. 14 deserts Des_a_rts. Pronounce [rhyming with hearts.] this like my lady's housemaid. XI. PSALM OF DAVID: 1 come on, Come _u_n. Pronounce [rhyming with shun.] this like a chambermaid. The force of his argument lies here: he does 3 For if the Power, in which they trust, not fear his enemies, Should fail, how helpless are the just! because if God's power should fail he has no help. 6 And on their impious heads will pour (1) A shower of snares Of snares (1) and flames a dismal shower; on a man's head would And this their bitter cup must be do wonderful execution. (2) To drink to all eternity: However, I grant it is a scurvy thing enough to swallow them. (2) To taste the doctor's poetry. XII. PSALM OF DAVID: 1 O Lord, some help for me provide, He can confide in but For in but few I can confide, few because all are. All men are so perfidious grown; perfidious. Smoke that! 2 True mutual kindness they pretend, Did ever any man pretend mutual kindness to another? 3 But God those flatterers will confound, Qu: whether flatterers That with abusive lies abound, usually abound with And proudly boast their vicious ways, abusive lies? 4 That say, with our deceitful tongues If they say thus they are silly flatterers. 6 And since He thus was pleased to say, That comparison is Like gold refined from base alloy, well applied. His promise never can deceive; (3) (3) Deceive. Pronounce this like a beau. 7 And therefore will their cause assert, Examine well the grammar Who thus are pure and true of heart, and sense and the And save them from the enemy; elegance of this stanza. 8 For, when th' ungodly meet success, Here the author separates The wicked more and more increase,(1) the wicked from And proudly all their foes defy. the ungodly. (1) Incr_ess_. XIII. PSALM OF DAVID: 1 How long wilt Thou neglect, A civil question that! O Lord, to hear me pray! 3 Attend, and hear my cries, Mind me, Sir! Some comfort now disclose, E'er grief has shut my weeping eyes Which would be nonsense, In death's obscure repose: put in prose. 4 Lest my proud enemy, If now my trust should fail, And those that persecute me cry; See, thus we still prevail: A pretty speech that! XIV. PSALM OF DAVID: 1 Hence virtue in the world declines, Without question virtue And all men vicious grow. declines with a vengeance when all men grow vicious. 2 And see who would His being own, What other way is And Him, as God, adore: there of adoring? 3 (2) But they were all perverted grown, (2) But they were all Polluted all with blood, perverted grown, And other impious crimes; not one In spite of Dr. Gibbs Was either just (3) or good. his blood: Of all his impious rhimes not one Was either just or good. (3) For a man (it seems) may be good and not just. 4 Are they so stupid (4) then, said (5) God, (4) The fault was not_ Who thus My (6) saints devour! that they devoured__ These (7) crimes have they not understood, saints,_ but that they Nor thought upon My power! were stupid. Qu: Whether stupidity makes men devour saints, or devouring saints makes a man stupid? I believe the latter, because they may be apt to lie heavy in one's stomach. (5) Clod. (6) Strains. (7) Rhimes. 7 (1) O, that His aid we now might have (1) And O that every From Sion's holy hill, parish clerk, That God the captive just would save, Who hums what Brady cribs And glad all Israel. From Hopkins, would read this work, And glad the heart with Gibbs. XV. PSALM OF DAVID: _Representing the character of a good man_. And a bad poet. 2 Sincere, and just, who never lie;_ 3 And so their neighbour ne'er deceive, How _so_? 5 All those that lead a life like this (2) And so the doctor Shall reign in everlasting bliss. (2) now may kiss----! FINIS. Fiddling Impudent Nauseous Illiterate Scoundrel oolish dle onsensical gnorant cot APPENDIX II. A PROPOSAL HUMBLY OFFERED TO THE P T FOR THE MORE EFFECTUAL PREVENTING THE FURTHER GROWTH OF POPERY. WITH THE DESCRIPTION AND USE OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL THERMOMETER, VERY PROPER FOR ALL FAMILIES. "Insani sanus nomen ferat, aequus iniqui, Ultra quàm satis est, virtutem si petat ipsam." HOR. Epist. 1. vi. 16. This "Proposal," which has not been included in the editions of Swift's Works issued by Scott, Faulkner, or Hawkesworth, appeared originally, but in a shorter form, in the "Tatler" (No. 220, September 4th, 1710). In this form the whole of the first portion, from the beginning to the paragraph commencing "The Church thermometer," is omitted, as are also the last paragraphs of the essay, including the "Advertisement." The text of the present reprint I have taken from the "Miscellanies," vol. viii., 1745 (pp. 217-229). In all modern editions of the "Tatler" this paper is ascribed to Addison; but the style and the subject are so characteristic of Swift that, although I am not in a position to say definitely that it is by him, I think it deserves a place in the form of an Appendix. The date of its appearance in the "Tatler" is somewhat against Swift having written it, since he was at that time on his way to London; and of the few contributions he sent to the "Tatler" it is agreed by all editors that the first is the paper on the same subject as the letter to the Lord High Treasurer, which appeared in No. 230 (September 28th, 1710). [T.S.] APPENDIX II. PROPOSAL FOR PREVENTING THE FURTHER GROWTH OF POPERY. Having, with great sorrow of heart, observed the increase of Popery among us of late years, and how ineffectual the penal laws and statutes of this realm have been, for near forty years last past, towards reclaiming that blind and deluded people from their errors, notwithstanding the good intentions of the legislators, and the pious and unwearied labours of the many learned divines of the Established Church, who have preached to them without ceasing, although hitherto without success: Having also remarked, in his Grace's speech to both Houses of Parliament, most kind offers of his Grace's good offices towards obtaining such further laws as shall be thought necessary towards bringing home the said wandering sheep into the fold of the Church, as also a good disposition in the parliament to join in the laudable work, towards which every good Protestant ought to contribute at least his advice: I think it a proper time to lay before the public a scheme which was writ some years since, and laid by to be ready on a fit occasion. That, whereas the several penal laws and statutes now in being against Papists, have been found ineffectual, and rather tend to confirm, than reclaim men from their errors, as calling a man coward, is a ready way to make him fight; It is humbly proposed, I. That the said penal laws and statutes against Papists, except the law of Gavelkind, and that which disqualifies them for places, be repealed, abrogated, annulled, destroyed, and obliterated, to all intents and purposes. II. That, in the room of the said penal laws and statutes, all ecclesiastical jurisdiction be taken from out of the hands of the clergy of the established Church, and the same be vested in the several popish archbishops, bishops, deans and arch-deacons; nevertheless so as such jurisdiction be exercised over persons of the Popish religion only. III. That a Popish priest shall be settled by law in each and every parish in Ireland. IV. That the said Popish priest shall, on taking the oath of allegiance to his majesty, be entitled to a tenth part or tithe of all things tithable in Ireland, belonging to the papists, within their respective parishes, yet so as such grant of tithes to such Popish priests, shall not be construed, in law or equity, to hinder the Protestant clergyman of such parish from receiving and collecting his tithes in like manner as he does at present. V. That, in case of detention or subtraction of tithes by any Papist, the parish priest do have his remedy at law in any of his majesty's courts, in the same manner as now practised by the clergy of the Established Church; together with all other ecclesiastical dues. And, for their further discovery to vex their people at law, it might not be amiss to oblige the solicitor-general, or some other able king's counsel, to give his advice, or assistance to such priests gratis, for which he might receive a salary out of the Barrack Fund, Military Contingencies, or Concordatum; having observed the exceedings there better paid than of the army, or any other branch of the establishment; and I would have no delay in payment in a matter of this importance. VI. That the archbishops and bishops have power to visit the inferior clergy, and to extort proxies, exhibits, and all other perquisites usual in Popish and Protestant countries. VII. That the convocation having been found, by long experience, to be hurtful to true religion, be for ever hereafter abolished among Protestants. VIII. That, in the room thereof, the Popish archbishops, bishops, priests, deans, arch-deacons, and proctors, have liberty to assemble themselves in convocation, and be impowered to make such canons as they shall think proper for the government of the Papists in Ireland: IX. And that, the secular arm being necessary to enforce obedience to ecclesiastical censure, the sheriffs, constables, and other officers, be commanded to execute the decrees and sentences of the said popish convocation, with secrecy and dispatch, or, in lieu thereof, they may be at liberty to erect an inquisition, with proper officers of their own. X. That, as Papists declare themselves converts to the Established Church, all spiritual power over them shall cease. XI. That as soon as any whole parish shall renounce the Popish religion, the priest of such parish shall, for his good services, have a pension of £200 per ann. settled on him for life, and that he be from such time exempt from preaching and praying, and other duties of his function, in like manner as protestant divines, with equal incomes, are at present. XII. That each bishop, so soon as his diocese shall become protestants, be called, My Lord, and have a pension of two thousand pounds per annum during life. XIII. That when a whole province shall be reclaimed, the archbishop shall be called His Grace, and have a pension of three thousand pounds per ann. during life, and be admitted a member of his majesty's most honourable privy council. The good consequences of this scheme, (which will execute itself without murmurings against the government) are very visible: I shall mention a few of the most obvious. I. The giving the priest a right to the tithe would produce law-suits and wrangles; his reverence, being entituled to a certain income at all events, would consider himself as a legal incumbent, and behave accordingly, and apply himself more to fleecing than feeding his flock; his necessary attendance on the courts of justice would leave his people without a spiritual guide; by which means protestant curates, who have no suits about tithes, would be furnished with proper opportunities for making converts, which is very much wanted. II. The erecting a spiritual jurisdiction amongst them would, in all probability, drive as many out of that communion, as a due execution of such jurisdiction hath hitherto drove from amongst ourselves. III. An inquisition would still be a further improvement, and most certainly would expedite the conversion of Papists. I know it may be objected to this scheme, and with some shew of reason, that, should the Popish princes abroad pursue the same methods, with regard to their protestant subjects, the Protestant interest in Europe would thereby be considerably weakened: but as we have no reason to suspect Popish counsels will ever produce so much moderation, I think the objection ought to have but little weight. A due execution of this scheme will soon produce many converts from Popery; nevertheless, to the end may it be known, when they shall be of the true Church, I have ordered a large parcel of ecclesiastical or Church thermometers to be made, one of which is to be hung up in each parish church, the description and use of which take as follows, in the words of the ingenious Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq. The[1] Church thermometer, which I am now to treat of, is supposed have been invented in the reign of Henry the Eighth, about the time when that religious prince put some to death for owning the Pope's supremacy, and others for denying transubstantiation. I do not find, however, any great use made of this instrument till it fell into the hand of a learned and vigilant priest or minister, (for he frequently wrote himself both the one and the other) who was some time Vicar of Bray. This gentleman lived in his vicarage to a good old age; and after having seen several successions of his neighbouring clergy either burnt or banished, departed this life with the satisfaction of having never deserted his flock, and died Vicar of Bray. As this glass was first designed to calculate the different degrees of heat in religion, as it raged in Popery, or as it cooled, and grew temperate in the Reformation, it was marked at several distances, after the manner our ordinary thermometer is to this day, viz. extreme hot sultry hot, very hot, hot, warm, temperate, cold, just freezing, frost, hard frost, great frost, extreme cold. [Footnote 1: In the "Tatler" this paragraph is preceded by the following: "_From my own apartment, Sept. 4._--Having received many letters filled with compliments and acknowledgments for my late useful discovery of the political barometer, I shall here communicate to the publican account of my ecclesiastical thermometer, the latter giving as manifest prognostications of the changes and revolutions in Church, as the former does of those in State, and both of them being absolutely necessary for every prudent subject who is resolved to keep what he has, and get what he can." [T.S.]] It is well known, that Torricellius,[2] the inventor of the common weather-glass, made the experiment of a long tube which held thirty-two foot of water; and that a more modern virtuoso finding such a machine altogether unwieldly and useless, and considering that thirty-two inches of quicksilver weighed as much as so many foot of water in a tube of the same circumference, invented that sizeable instrument which is now in use. After this manner, that I might adapt the thermometer I am now speaking of to the present constitution of our Church, as divided into High and Low, I have made some necessary variations both in the tube and the fluid it contains. In the first place I ordered a tube to be cast in a planetary hour, and took care to seal it hermetically, when the sun was in conjunction with Saturn. I then took the proper precautions about the fluid, which is a compound of two different liquors; one of them a spirit drawn out of a strong heady wine; the other a particular sort of rock-water, colder than ice, and clearer than crystal. The spirit is of a red, fiery colour, and so very apt to ferment, that, unless it be mingled with a proportion of the water, or pent up very close, it will burst the vessel that holds it, and fly up in a fume and smoke. The water, on the contrary, is of such a subtile, piercing cold, that, unless it be mingled with a proportion of the spirits, it will sink almost through every thing it is put into, and seems to be of the same nature as the water mentioned by Quintus Curtius, which says the historian, could be contained in nothing but in the hoof, or (as the Oxford Manuscript has it) the skull of an ass. The thermometer is marked according to the following figure, which I set down at length, not only to give my reader a clear idea of it, but also to fill up my paper. [Footnote 2: Evangelista Torricelli (1608-1647) was assistant to Galileo, and is famous as the discoverer of the phenomena on which he made the barometer. In 1644 he published "Opera Geometrica." [T.S.]] Ignorance. Persecution. Wrath. Zeal. CHURCH. Moderation. Lukewarmness. Infidelity. Ignorance. The reader will observe, that the Church is placed in the middle point of the glass between Zeal and Moderation, the situation in which she always flourishes, and in which every good Englishman wishes her, who is a friend to the constitution of his country. However, when it mounts to Zeal, it is not amiss; and, when it sinks to Moderation, it is still in admirable temper. The worst of it is, that when once it begins to rise, it has still an inclination to ascend, insomuch that it is apt to climb from Zeal to Wrath, and from Wrath to Persecution, which often ends in Ignorance, and very often proceeds from it. In the same manner it frequently takes its progress through the lower half of the glass; and, when it has a tendency to fall, will gradually descend from Moderation to Lukewarmness, and from Lukewarmness to Infidelity, which very often terminates in Ignorance, and always proceeds from it. It is a common observation, that the ordinary thermometer will be affected by the breathing of people who are in the room where it stands, and indeed it is almost incredible to conceive how the glass I am now describing, will fall by the breath of the multitude crying Popery; or, on the contrary, how it will rise when the same multitude (as it sometimes happens) cry out in the same breath, _The Church is in Danger_. As soon as I have finished this my glass, and adjusted it to the above-mentioned scale of religion, that I might make proper experiments with it, I carried it under my cloak to several coffee-houses, and other places of resort, about this great city. At Saint James's Coffee-house the liquor stood at Moderation; but at Will's, to my extreme surprise, it subsided to the very lowest mark of the glass. At the Grecian it mounted but just one point higher; at the Rainbow it still ascended two degrees; Child's fetched it up to Zeal, and other adjacent coffee-houses to Wrath. It fell in the lower half of the glass as I went further into the City, till at length it settled at Moderation, where it continued all the time I stayed about the Change, as also whilst I passed by the Bank. And here I cannot but take notice, that, through the whole course of my remarks, I never observed my glass to rise at the same time that the stocks did. To complete the experiment, I prevailed upon a friend of mine, who works under me in the occult sciences, to make a progress with my glass through the whole Island of Great Britain; and, after his return, to present me with a register of his observations. I guessed beforehand at the temper of several places he passed through, by the characters they have had time out of mind. Thus that facetious divine, Dr. Fuller,[3] speaking of the town of Banbury near a hundred years ago, tells us, it was a place famous for cakes and zeal, which I find by my glass is true to this day, as to the latter part of his description; though I must confess, it is not in the same reputation for cakes that it was in the time of that learned author; and thus of other places. In short, I have now by me, digested in an alphabetical order, all the counties, corporations, and boroughs in Great Britain, with their respective tempers, as they stand related to my thermometer. But this I shall keep to myself, because I would by no means do any thing that may seem to influence any ensuing election. [Footnote 3: Thomas Fuller, D.D. (1608-1661) was the author of "History of the Worthies of England," "History of the Holy War," and many other works distinguished for their humour and style. [T.S.]] The point of doctrine which I would propagate by this my invention, is the same which was long ago advanced by that able teacher Horace, out of whom I have taken my text for this discourse: We should be careful not to over-shoot ourselves in the pursuits even of virtue. Whether zeal or moderation be the point we aim at, let us keep fire out of the one, and frost out of the other. But, alas! the world is too wise to want such a precaution. The terms High-Church and Low-Church, as commonly used, do not so much denote a principle, as they distinguish a party. They are like words of battle, they have nothing to do with their original signification, but are only given out to keep a body of men together, and to let them know friends from enemies. I must confess I have considered, with some attention, the influence which the opinions of these great national sects have upon their practice; and do look upon it as one of the unaccountable things of our times, that multitudes of honest gentlemen, who entirely agree in their lives, should take it in their heads to differ in their religion.[4] [Footnote 4: Here the "Tatler" paper ends. [T.S.]] I shall conclude this paper with an account of a conference which happened between a very excellent divine (whose doctrine was easy, and formerly much respected) and a lawyer. * * * * * And behold a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? He said unto him, What is written in the law? How readest thou? And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself. And he said unto him, Thou hast answered right; this do, and thou shalt live. But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbour? And Jesus answering, said; A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way; and, when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was; and, when he saw him, he had compassion on him. And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine; and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him, and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves? And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise. Luke x. 25 to 38. * * * * * _Advertisement._ There is now in the press a proposal for raising a fund towards paying the National Debt by the following means: The author would have commissioners appointed to search all the public and private libraries, booksellers shops and warehouses, in this kingdom, for such books as are of no use to the owner, or to the public, viz. all comments on the Holy Scriptures, whether called sermons, creeds, bodies of divinity, tomes of casuistry, vindications, confutations, essays, answers, replies, rejoinders, or sur-rejoinders, together with all other learned treatises and books of divinity, of what denomination or class soever; as also all comments on the laws of the land, such as reports, law-cases, decrees, guides for attorneys and young clerks, and, in fine, all the books now in being in this kingdom (whether of divinity, law, physic, metaphysics, logics or politics) except the pure text of the Holy Scriptures, the naked text of the laws, a few books of morality, poetry, music, architecture, agriculture, mathematics, merchandise and history; the author would have the aforesaid useless books carried to the several paper-mills, there to be wrought into white paper, which, to prevent damage or complaints, he would have performed by the commentators, critics, popular preachers, apothecaries, learned lawyers, attorneys, solicitors, logicians, physicians, almanac-makers, and others of the like wrong turn of mind; the said paper to be sold, and the produce applied to discharge the National Debt; what should remain of the said debt unsatisfied, might be paid by a tax on the salaries or estates of bankers, common cheats, usurers, treasurers, embezzelers of public money, general officers, sharpers, pensioners, pick-pockets, &c. APPENDIX III. SWIFT AND SERJEANT BETTESWORTH. The _rencontre_ with Serjeant Bettesworth, to which reference has already been made in the note prefixed to "The Presbyterians' Plea of Merit," is further illustrated by the Resolution which the inhabitants of the Liberty of St. Patrick's passed, and which they presented to the Dean. Bettesworth, as a note in the thirteenth volume of Swift's works (1762) states, "engaged his footman and two ruffians to attend him, in order to secure the dean wherever they met him, until he had gratified his resentment either by maiming or stabbing him." Accordingly, he went directly to the deanery, and hearing the Dean was at a friend's house (Rev. Mr. John Worrall's in Big Ship Street), followed him thither, charged him with writing the said verses, but had not courage enough to put his bloody design in execution. However, as he had the assurance to relate this affair to several noblemen and gentlemen, the inhabitants of the Liberty of St. Patrick's waited upon the Dean, and presented the following paper, signed by above thirty of them, in the name of themselves, and the rest of their neighbourhood: "We the inhabitants of the Liberty of the Dean and Chapter of St Patrick's Dublin, and the neighbourhood of the same, having been informed, by universal report, that a certain man of this city hath openly threatened, and sworn before many hundred people, as well persons of quality as others, that he resolves upon the first opportunity, by the help of several ruffians, to murder or maim the Reverend the Dean of St. Patrick, our neighbour, benefactor, and the head of the Liberty of St Patrick, upon a frivolous unproved suspicion of the said Dean's having written some lines in verse reflecting on the said man. "Therefore, we, the said inhabitants of the said Liberty, and in the neighbourhood thereof, from our great love and respect to the said Dean, to whom the whole kingdom hath so many obligations, as well as we of the Liberty, do unanimously declare, that we will endeavour to defend the life and limbs of the said Dean against the said man, and all his ruffians and murderers, as far as the law will allow, if he or any of them presume to come into the said Liberty with any wicked malicious intent against the house, or family, or person, or goods of the said Dean. To which we have cheerfully, sincerely, and heartily set our hands." Swift, at the time of receiving this Resolution lay very ill in bed, and was unable to receive the deputation in person. He, however, dictated the following reply: "GENTLEMEN, "I receive, with great thankfulness, these many kind expressions of your concern for my safety, as well as your declared resolution to defend me (as far as the laws of God and man will allow) against all murderers and ruffians, who shall attempt to enter into the liberty with any bloody or wicked designs upon my life, my limbs, my house, or my goods. Gentlemen, my life is in the hand of God, and whether it may be cut off by treachery or open violence, or by the common way of other men; as long as it continueth, I shall ever bear a grateful memory for this favour you have shewn, beyond my expectation, and almost exceeding my wishes. "The inhabitants of the liberty, as well as those of the neighbourhood, have lived with me in great amity for near twenty years; which I am confident will never diminish during my life. I am chiefly sorry, that by two cruel disorders of deafness and giddiness, which have pursued me for four months, I am not in condition either to hear, or to receive you, much less to return my most sincere acknowledgements, which in justice and gratitude I ought to do. May God bless you and your families in this world, and make you for ever happy in the next." The poem itself to which Bettesworth took exception is herewith reprinted, as well as three others occasioned by the Bettesworth action. ON THE WORDS BROTHER PROTESTANTS AND FELLOW CHRISTIANS, SO FAMILIARLY USED BY THE ADVOCATES FOR THE REPEAL OF THE TEST-ACT IN IRELAND. 1733. "An inundation, says the fable, Overflow'd a farmer's barn and stable; Whole ricks of hay and sacks of corn Were down the sudden current borne; While things of heterogeneous kind Together float with tide and wind. The generous wheat forgot its pride, And sail'd with litter side by side; Uniting all, to shew their amity, As in a general calamity. A ball of new-dropp'd horse's dung, Mingling with apples in the throng, Said to the pippin plump and prim, 'See brother, how we apples swim.' Thus Lamb, renown'd for cutting corns, An offer'd fee from Radcliff scorns, 'Not for the world--we doctors, brother, Must take no fees of one another.' Thus to a dean some curate sloven Subscribes, 'Dear sir, your brother loving.' Thus all the footmen, shoeboys, porters, About St James's cry, 'We courtiers.' Thus Horace in the house will prate, 'Sir, we, the ministers of state.' Thus at the bar the booby Bettesworth, Though half a crown o'erpays his sweat's worth; Who knows in law nor text nor margent, Calls Singleton[1] his brother sergeant.[2] And thus fanatic saints, though neither in Doctrine nor discipline our brethren, Are brother Protestants and Christians, As much as Hebrews and Philistines: But in no other sense, than nature Has made a rat our fellow-creature. Lice from your body suck their food; But is a louse your flesh and blood? Though born of human filth and sweat, it As well may say man did beget it. And maggots in your nose and chin As well may claim you for their kin. Yet critics may object, why not? Since lice are brethren to a Scot: Which made our swarm of sects determine Employments for their brother vermin. But be they English, Irish, Scottish, What Protestant can be so sottish, While o'er the church these clouds are gathering, To call a swarm of lice his brethren? "As Moses, by divine advice, In Egypt turn'd the dust to lice; And as our sects, by all descriptions, Have hearts more harden'd than Egyptians; As from the trodden dust they spring, And, turn'd to lice, infest the king: For pity's sake, it would be just, A rod should turn them back to dust. Let folks in high or holy stations Be proud of owning such relations; Let courtiers hug them in their bosom, As if they were afraid to lose 'em: While I, with humble Job, had rather Say to corruption--'Thou 'rt my father.' For he that has so little wit To nourish vermin, may be bit." [Footnote 1: Henry Singleton, Esq., then prime sergeant, afterwards lord-chief-justice of the common pleas, which he resigned, and was some time after made master of the rolls. [F.]] [Footnote 2: These lines occasioned the personal attack upon the Dean. [T.S.]] AN EPIGRAM.[1] INSCRIBED TO THE HONOURABLE SERGEANT KITE. "In your indignation what mercy appears. While Jonathan's threaten'd with loss of his ears; For who would not think it a much better choice, By your knife to be mangled than rack'd with your voice. If truly you [would] be revenged on the parson, Command his attendance while you act your farce on; Instead of your maiming, your shooting, or banging, Bid _Povey_[2] secure him while you are haranguing. Had this been your method to torture him, long since, He had cut his own ears to be deaf to your nonsense." [Footnote 1: Now first published from a copy in the Dean's handwriting; in possession of J. Connill, Esq. [S.]] [Footnote 2: Povey was sergeant-at-arms to the House of Commons.] "THE YAHOO'S OVERTHROW; OR, THE KEVAN BAYL'S NEW BALLAD."[3] UPON SERGEANT KITE'S INSULTING THE DEAN. _To the Tune of "Derry Down."_ "Jolley boys of St Kevan's,[4] St Patrick's, Donore, And Smithfield, I'll tell you, if not told before, How Bettesworth, that booby, and scoundrel in grain, Has insulted us all by insulting the Dean. Knock him down, down, down, knock him down. [Footnote 3: "Grub Street Journal," No. 189, August 9th, 1734.--"In December last, Mr. Bettesworth of the city of Dublin, serjeant-at-law, and member of parliament, openly swore, before many hundreds of people, that, upon the first opportunity, by the help of ruffians, he would murder or maim the Dean of St. Patrick's, (Dr. Swift). Upon which thirty-one of the principal inhabitants of that liberty signed a paper to this effect: 'That, out of their great love and respect to the Dean, to whom the whole kingdom hath so many obligations, they would endeavour to defend the life and limbs of the said Dean against a certain man and all his ruffians and murderers.' With which paper they, in the name of themselves and all the inhabitants of the city, attended the Dean on January 8, who being extremely ill in bed of a giddiness and deafness, and not able to receive them, immediately dictated a very grateful answer. The occasion of a certain man's declaration of his villainous design against the Dean, was a frivolous unproved suspicion that he had written some lines in verse reflecting upon him."] [Footnote 4: Kevan Bayl was a cant expression for the mob of this district of Dublin.] "The Dean and his merits we every one know, But this skip of a lawyer, where the de'il did he grow? How greater his merit at Four Courts or House, Than the barking of Towzer, or leap of a louse! Knock him down, &c. "That he came from the Temple, his morals do show; But where his deep law is, few mortals yet know: His rhetoric, bombast, silly jests, are by far More like to lampooning, than pleading at bar. Knock him down, &c. "This pedlar, at speaking and making of laws, Has met with returns of all sorts but applause; Has, with noise and odd gestures, been prating some years, What honester folk never durst for their ears. Knock him down, &c. "Of all sizes and sorts, the fanatical crew Are his brother Protestants, good men and true; Red hat, and blue bonnet, and turban's the same, What the de'il is't to him whence the devil they came. Knock him down, &c. "Hobbes, Tindal, and Woolston, and Collins, and Nayler, And Muggleton, Toland, and Bradley the tailor, Are Christians alike; and it may be averr'd, He's a Christian as good as the rest of the herd. Knock him down, &c. "He only the rights of the clergy debates; Their rights! their importance! We'll set on new rates On their tithes at half-nothing, their priesthood at less; What's next to be voted with ease you may guess. Knock him down, &c. "At length his old master, (I need not him name,) To this damnable speaker had long owed a shame; When his speech came abroad, he paid him off clean, By leaving him under the pen of the Dean. Knock him down, &c. "He kindled, as if the whole satire had been The oppression of virtue, not wages of sin: He began, as he bragg'd, with a rant and a roar; He bragg'd how he bounced, and he swore how he swore.[5] Knock him down, &c. [Footnote 5: See the Dean's letter to the Duke of Dorset, in which he gives an account of his interview with Bettesworth, about which he alleges the serjeant had spread abroad five hundred falsehoods. [S.]] "Though he cringed to his deanship in very low strains, To others he boasted of knocking out brains, And slitting of noses, and cropping of ears, While his own ass's zags were more fit for the shears. Knock him down, &c. "On this worrier of deans whene'er we can hit, We'll shew him the way how to crop and to slit; We'll teach him some better address to afford To the dean of all deans, though he wears not a sword. Knock him down, &c. "We'll colt him through Kevan, St Patrick's, Donore, And Smithfield, as rap was ne'er colted before; We'll oil him with kennel, and powder him with grains, A modus right fit for insulters of deans. Knock him down, &c. "And, when this is over, we'll make him amends, To the Dean he shall go; they shall kiss and be friends: But how? Why, the Dean shall to him disclose A face for to kiss, without eyes, ears, or nose. Knock him down, &c. "If you say this is hard on a man that is reckon'd That sergeant-at-law whom we call Kite the Second, You mistake; for a slave, who will coax his superiors, May be proud to be licking a great man's posteriors. Knock him down, &c. "What care we how high runs his passion or pride? Though his soul he despises, he values his hide; Then fear not his tongue, or his sword, or his knife; He'll take his revenge on his innocent wife. Knock him down, down, down, keep him down." "ON THE ARCHBISHOP OF CASHEL,[1] AND BETTESWORTH. "Dear Dick, pr'ythee tell by what passion you move? The world is in doubt whether hatred or love; And, while at good Cashel you rail with such spite, They shrewdly suspect it is all but a bite. You certainly know, though so loudly you vapour, His spite cannot wound who attempted the Drapier. Then, pr'ythee, reflect, take a word of advice; And, as your old wont is, change sides in a trice: On his virtues hold forth; 'tis the very best way; And say of the man what all honest men say. But if, still obdurate, your anger remains, If still your foul bosom more rancour contains, Say then more than they, nay, lavishly flatter; 'Tis your gross panegyrics alone can bespatter; For thine, my dear Dick, give me leave to speak plain, Like very foul mops, dirty more than they clean." [Footnote 1: Dr. Theophilus Bolton. [T.S.]] The letter to the Earl of Dorset, containing Swift's version of the story is as follows: "January, 1734. "MY LORD, "It has been my great misfortune that since your grace's return to this kingdom I have not been able to attend you, as my duty and gratitude for your favours as well as the honour of having been so many years known to you obliged me to do. I have been pursued by two old disorders, a giddiness and deafness, which used to leave me in three or four weeks, but now have continued four months. Thus I am put under a necessity to write what I would rather have chosen to say in your grace's presence. "On Monday last week towards evening there came to the deanery one Mr. Bettesworth; who, being told by the servants that I was gone to a friend's house,[1] went thither to inquire for me, and was admitted into the street parlour. I left my company in the back room and went to him. He began with asking me 'whether I were the author of certain verses wherein he was reflected on.' The singularity of the man, in his countenance, manner, action, style, and tone of voice, made me call to mind that I had once seen him about two or three years ago at Mr. Ludlow's country-house. But I could not recollect his name; and of what calling he might be I had never heard. I therefore desired to know who and what he was; said 'I had heard of some such verses, but knew no more.' He then signified to me 'that he was a serjeant-at-law and a member of parliament.' After which he repeated the lines that concerned him with great emphasis; said 'I was mistaken in one thing, for he assured me he was no booby, but owned himself to be a coxcomb.' However, that being a point of controversy wherein I had no concern, I let it drop. As to the verses, he insisted, 'that by his taste and skill in poetry he was as sure I wrote them as if he had seen them fall from my pen.' But I found the chief weight of his argument lay upon two words that rhymed to his name, which he knew could come from none but me. He then told me 'that, since I would not own the verses, and that since he could not get satisfaction by any course of law, he would get it by his pen, and show the world what a man I was.' When he began to grow over-warm and eloquent I called in the gentleman of the house from the room adjoining; and the serjeant, going on with less turbulence, went away. He had a footman in the hall during all his talk, who was to have opened the door for one or more fellows, as he has since reported; and likewise that he had a sharp knife in his pocket, ready to stab or maim me. But the master and mistress of the house, who knew his character and could hear every word from the room they were in, had prepared a sufficient defence in such a case, as they afterward told me. He has since related to five hundred persons of all ranks about five hundred falsehoods of this conversation, of my fears and his own brutalities, against all probability as well as fact; and some of them, as I have been assured, even in the presence of your grace. His meanings and his movements were indeed peevish enough, but his words were not. He threatened me with nothing but his pen, yet owned he had no pretence to wit. And indeed I am heartily glad for his own sake that he proceeded no farther, for the least uproar would have called his nearest neighbours first to my assistance, and next to the manifest danger of his life; and I would not willingly have even a dog killed upon my account. Ever since he has amused himself with declaring in all companies, especially before bishops and lords and members of parliament, his resolutions for vengeance and the several manners by which he will put it in execution. [Footnote 1: The Rev. Mr. Worrall's. [T.S.]] "It is only to the advice of some judicious friends that your grace owes the trouble of this letter; for though I may be dispirited enough by sickness and years, yet I have little reason to apprehend any danger from that man; and those who seem to have most regard for my safety are no more apprehensive than myself, especially such as best know his character; for his very enemies and even his ridiculers, who are of the two by far the greater number, allow him to be a peaceable man in all things except his words, his rhetorical actions, his looks, and his hatred to the clergy; which however are all known by abundance of experience to be perfectly harmless, and particularly as to the clergy. I do not doubt but, if he will be so good to continue steadfast in his principles and practices, he may at proper junctures contribute very much to the honour and interests of that reverend body, as well as employ and improve the wit of many young gentlemen in the city, the university, and the rest of the kingdom. "What I have said to your grace is only meant as a poor endeavour to preserve myself in your good opinion and in the continuance of your favour. I am, with the highest respect, etc." "JONATHAN SWIFT." APPENDIX IV. A TRUE AND FAITHFUL NARRATIVE OF WHAT PASSED IN LONDON, DURING THE GENERAL CONSTERNATION OF ALL RANKS AND DEGREES OF MANKIND; ON TUESDAY, WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY, AND FRIDAY LAST. NOTE. WILLIAM WHISTON (1667-1752), born at Norton, Leicestershire, was educated at Tamworth School and Clare College, Cambridge. He resigned the living at Lowestoft, presented to him by his patron and friend, Bishop Moore, of Norwich, on accepting the Professorship of Mathematics, vacated by Sir Isaac Newton. He was a profound scholar and mathematician, but obtained a somewhat harassing fame by his propagation of Arianism. Indeed, his public lectures and sermons, as well as his publications vindicating his attitude, forced the authorities to deprive him of his lectureship, and expel him from the university. In 1717 Whiston founded a Society for Promoting Primitive Christianity, and its meetings were held at his house in Cross Street, Hatton Garden. But the society lived only for two years. In that curious medley, "Memoirs of the Life of Mr. William Whiston, by himself," we are told that he had a model made of the original Tabernacle of Moses from his own plans, and toured the country giving lectures on the coming of the Messiah, the restoration of the Jews to their own country, and the rebuilding of the Temple according to the model. The Millennium he foretold would commence in 1766. He wrote a prodigious number of tracts, pamphlets, commentaries, and biblical expositions in support of his particular view of Christianity; but the works for which he is now remembered are his astronomical and mechanical papers and his well-known translation of Josephus's "History of the Jews." The pamphlet which follows is written in ridicule of Whiston's prophetic pronouncements. Scott ascribes its authorship to Swift; but the "Miscellanies" of 1747 and Hawkesworth in the edition of 1766 of Swift's Works place it in the list of "Contents," with other pieces, under the heading, "By Mr. Pope and Mr. Gay." The present text is practically that given by Scott, which is based on that in the third edition of the "Miscellanies" of 1732. [T.S.] A TRUE AND FAITHFUL NARRATIVE OF _What passed in_ London, _during the General Consternation of all Ranks and Degrees of Mankind_; ON TUESDAY, WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY, _and_ FRIDAY _last_. On Tuesday the 13th of October, Mr. Whiston held his lecture, near the Royal Exchange, to an audience of fourteen worthy citizens, his subscribers and constant hearers. Besides these, there were five chance auditors for that night only, who had paid their shillings a-piece. I think myself obliged to be very particular in this relation, lest my veracity should be suspected; which makes me appeal to the men who were present; of which number I myself was one. Their names are, Henry Watson, _Haberdasher_. George Hancock, _Druggist_. John Lewis, _Dry-Salter._ William Jones, _Corn-Chandler._ Henry Theobald, _Watchmaker_. James Peters, _Draper_. Thomas Floyer, _Silver-Smith._ John Wells, _Brewer_. Samuel Greg, _Soap-Boiler_. William Cooley, _Fish-monger_. James Harper, _Hosier_. Robert Tucker, _Stationer_. George Ford, _Iron-monger_. Daniel Lynch, _Apothecary_. William Bennet, } David Somers, } Charles Lock, } _Apprentices_. Leonard Daval, } Henry Croft, } Mr. Whiston began by acquainting us, that (contrary to his advertisement) he thought himself in duty and conscience obliged to change the subject matter of his intended discourse. Here he paused, and seemed, for a short space, as it were, lost in devotion and mental prayer; after which, with great earnestness and vehemence, he spake as follows: "Friends and fellow-citizens, all speculative science is at an end: the period of all things is at hand; on Friday next this world shall be no more. Put not your confidence in me, brethren; for to-morrow morning, five minutes after five, the truth will be evident; in that instant the comet shall appear, of which I have heretofore warned you. As ye have heard, believe. Go hence, and prepare your wives, your families, and friends, for the universal change." At this solemn and dreadful prediction, the whole society appeared in the utmost astonishment: but it would be unjust not to remember, that Mr. Whiston himself was in so calm a temper, as to return a shilling a-piece to the youths, who had been disappointed of their lecture, which I thought, from a man of his integrity, a convincing proof of his own faith in the prediction. As we thought it a duty in charity to warn all men, in two or three hours the news had spread through the city. At first, indeed, our report met with but little credit; it being, by our greatest dealers in stocks, thought only a court artifice to sink them, that some choice favourites might purchase at a lower rate; for the South Sea, that very evening, fell five _per cent._, the India, eleven, and all the other funds in proportion. But, at the Court end of the town, our attestations were entirely disbelieved, or turned into ridicule; yet nevertheless the news spread everywhere, and was the subject matter of all conversation. That very night, (as I was credibly informed) Mr. Whiston was sent for to a great lady, who is very curious in the learned sciences, and addicted to all the speculative doubts of the most able philosophers; but he was not now to be found; and since, at other times, he has been known not to decline that honour, I make no doubt he concealed himself to attend the great business of his soul: but whether it was the lady's faith, or inquisitiveness, that occasioned her to send, is a point I shall not presume to determine. As for his being sent for to the secretary's office by a messenger, it is now known to be a matter notoriously false, and indeed at first it had little credit with me, that so zealous and honest a man should be ordered into custody, as a seditious preacher, who is known to be so well-affected to the present happy establishment. 'Twas now I reflected, with exceeding trouble and sorrow, that I had disused family prayers for above five years, and (though it has been a custom of late entirely neglected by men of any business or station) I determined within myself no longer to omit so reasonable and religious a duty. I acquainted my wife with my intentions: But two or three neighbours having been engaged to sup with us that night, and many hours being unwarily spent at cards, I was prevailed upon by her to put it off till the next day; she reasoning, that it would be time enough to take off the servants from their business (which this practice must infallibly occasion for an hour or two every day) after the comet had made its appearance. Zachery Bowen, a Quaker, and my next neighbour, had no sooner heard of the prophecy, but he made me a visit. I informed him of everything I had heard, but found him quite obstinate in his unbelief; for, said he, be comforted, friend, thy tidings are impossibilities; for, were these things to happen, they must have been foreseen by some of our brethren. This indeed (as in all other spiritual cases with this set of people) was his only reason against believing me; and, as he was fully persuaded that the prediction was erroneous, he in a very neighbourly manner admonished me against selling my stock at the present low price, which, he said, beyond dispute, must have a rise before Monday, when this unreasonable consternation should be over. But on Wednesday morning (I believe to the exact calculation of Mr. Whiston) the comet appeared; for, at three minutes after five by my own watch, I saw it. He indeed foretold, that it would be seen at five minutes after five; but, as the best watches may be a minute or two too slow, I am apt to think his calculation just to a minute. In less than a quarter of an hour, all Cheapside was crowded with a vast concourse of people, and notwithstanding it was so early, it is thought that, through all that part of the town, there was not man, woman, or child, except the sick or infirm, left in their beds. From my own balcony, I am confident, I saw several thousands in the street, and counted at least seventeen, who were upon their knees, and seemed in actual devotion. Eleven of them, indeed, appeared to be old women of about fourscore; the six others were men in advanced life, but (as I could guess) two of them might be under seventy. It is highly probable, that an event of this nature may be passed over by the greater historians of our times, as conducing very little or nothing to the unravelling and laying open the deep schemes of politicians, and mysteries of state; for which reason, I thought it might not be unacceptable to record the facts, which, in the space of three days, came to my knowledge, either as an eye-witness, or from unquestionable authorities; nor can I think this narrative will be entirely without its use, as it may enable us to form a more just idea of our countrymen in general, particularly in regard to their faith, religion, morals, and politics. Before Wednesday noon, the belief was universal, that the day of judgment was at hand, insomuch, that a waterman of my acquaintance told me, he counted no less than one hundred and twenty-three clergymen, who had been ferried over to Lambeth before twelve o'clock: these, it is said, went thither to petition, that a short prayer might be penned, and ordered, there being none in the service upon that occasion. But, as in things of this nature, it is necessary that the council be consulted, their request was not immediately complied with; and this I affirm to be the true and only reason, that the churches were not that morning so well attended, and is in noways to be imputed to the fears and consternation of the clergy, with which the freethinkers have since very unjustly reproached them. My wife and I went to church, (where we had not been for many years on a week-day,) and, with a very large congregation, were disappointed of the service. But (what will be scarce credible) by the carelessness of a 'prentice, in our absence, we had a piece of fine cambric carried off by a shop-lifter: so little impression was yet made on the minds of those wicked women! I cannot omit the care of a particular director of the Bank; I hope the worthy and wealthy knight will forgive me, that I endeavour to do him justice; for it was unquestionably owing to Sir Gilbert Heathcote's[1] sagacity, that all the fire-offices were required to have a particular eye upon the Bank of England. Let it be recorded to his praise, that in the general hurry, this struck him as his nearest and tenderest concern; but the next day in the evening, after having taken due care of all his books, bills, and bonds, I was informed, his mind was wholly turned upon spiritual matters; yet, ever and anon, he could not help expressing his resentment against the Tories and Jacobites, to whom he imputed that sudden run upon the Bank, which happened on this occasion. [Footnote 1: Sir Gilbert Heathcote had before signalized his care for the Bank when in equal danger, by petitioning against the Lord-Treasurer Godolphin's being removed, as a measure that would destroy the public credit. [H.]] A great man (whom at this time it may not be prudent to name) employed all the Wednesday morning to make up such an account, as might appear fair, in case he should be called upon to produce it on the Friday; but was forced to desist, after having for several hours together attempted it, not being able to bring himself to a resolution to trust the many hundred articles of his secret transactions upon paper. Another seemed to be very melancholy, which his flatterers imputed to his dread of losing his power in a day or two; but I rather take it, that his chief concern was the terror of being tried in a court, that could not be influenced, and where a majority of voices could avail him nothing. It was observed, too, that he had but few visitors that day. This added so much to his mortification, that he read through the first chapter of the book of Job, and wept over it bitterly; in short, he seemed a true penitent in everything but in charity to his neighbour. No business was that day done in his counting-house. It is said too, that he was advised to restitution, but I never heard that he complied with it, any farther than in giving half-a-crown a-piece to several crazed and starving creditors, who attended in the outward room. Three of the maids of honour sent to countermand their birth-day clothes; two of them burnt all their collections of novels and romances, and sent to a bookseller's in Pall-Mall to buy each of them a Bible, and Taylor's "Holy Living and Dying." But I must do all of them the justice to acknowledge, that they shewed a very decent behaviour in the drawing-room, and restrained themselves from those innocent freedoms, and little levities, so commonly incident to young ladies of their profession. So many birth-day suits were countermanded the next day, that most of the tailors and mantua makers discharged all their journeymen and women. A grave elderly lady of great erudition and modesty, who visits these young ladies, seemed to be extremely shocked by the apprehensions, that she was to appear naked before the whole world; and no less so, that all mankind was to appear naked before her; which might so much divert her thoughts, as to incapacitate her to give ready and apt answers to the interrogatories that might be made her. The maids of honour, who had both modesty and curiosity, could not imagine the sight so disagreeable as was represented; nay, one of them went so far as to say, she perfectly longed to see it; for it could not be so indecent, when everybody was to be alike; and they had a day or two to prepare themselves to be seen in that condition. Upon this reflection, each of them ordered a bathing-tub to be got ready that evening, and a looking-glass to be set by it. So much are these young ladies, both by nature and custom, addicted to cleanly appearance. A west-country gentleman told me, he got a church-lease filled up that morning for the same sum which had been refused for three years successively. I must impute this merely to accident: for I cannot imagine that any divine could take the advantage of his tenant in so unhandsome a manner, or that the shortness of the life was in the least his consideration; though I have heard the same worthy prelate aspersed and maligned since, upon this very account. The term being so near, the alarm among the lawyers was inexpressible, though some of them, I was told, were so vain as to promise themselves some advantage in making their defence, by being versed in the practice of our earthly courts. It is said, too, that some of the chief pleaders were heard to express great satisfaction, that there had been but few state trials of late years. Several attorneys demanded the return of fees that had been given the lawyers; but it was answered, the fee was undoubtedly charged to their client, and that they could not connive at such injustice, as to suffer it to be sunk in the attorneys' pockets. Our sage and learned judges had great consolation, insomuch as they had not pleaded at the bar for several years; the barristers rejoiced in that they were not attorneys, and the attorneys felt no less satisfaction, that they were not pettifoggers, scriveners, and other meaner officers of the law. As to the army, far be it from me to conceal the truth. Every soldier's behaviour was as undismayed, and undaunted, as if nothing was to happen; I impute not this to their want of faith, but to their martial disposition; though I cannot help thinking they commonly accompany their commands with more oaths than are requisite, of which there was no remarkable diminution this morning on the parade in St James's Park. But possibly it was by choice, and on consideration, that they continued this way of expression, not to intimidate the common soldiers, or give occasion to suspect, that even the fear of damnation could make any impression upon their superior officers. A duel was fought the same morning between two colonels, not occasioned (as was reported) because the one was put over the other's head; that being a point, which might, at such a juncture, have been accommodated by the mediation of friends; but as this was upon the account of a lady, it was judged it could not be put off at this time, above all others, but demanded immediate satisfaction. I am apt to believe, that a young officer, who desired his surgeon to defer putting him into a salivation till Saturday, might make this request out of some opinion he had of the truth of the prophecy; for the apprehensions of any danger in the operation could not be his motive, the surgeon himself having assured me, that he had before undergone three severe operations of the like nature with great resignation and fortitude. There was an order issued, that the chaplains of the several regiments should attend their duty; but as they were dispersed about in several parts of England, it was believed, that most of them could not be found, or so much as heard of, till the great day was over. Most of the considerable physicians, by their outward demeanour, seemed to be unbelievers; but at the same time, they everywhere insinuated, that there might be a pestilential malignancy in the air, occasioned by the comet, which might be armed against by proper and timely medicines. This caution had but little effect; for as the time approached, the Christian resignation of the people increased, and most of them (which was never before known) had their souls more at heart than their bodies. If the reverend clergy shewed more concern than others, I charitably impute it to their great charge of souls; and what confirmed me in this opinion was, that the degrees of apprehension and terror could be distinguished to be greater or less, according to their ranks and degrees in the church. The like might be observed in all sorts of ministers, though not of the Church of England; the higher their rank, the more was their fear. I speak not of the Court for fear of offence; and I forbear inserting the names of particular persons, to avoid the imputation of slander; so that the reader will allow the narrative must be deficient, and is therefore desired to accept hereof rather as a sketch, than a regular circumstantial history. I was not informed of any persons, who shewed the least joy; except three malefactors, who were to be executed on the Monday following, and one old man, a constant church-goer, who being at the point of death, expressed some satisfaction at the news. On Thursday morning there was little or nothing transacted in 'Change-alley; there were a multitude of sellers, but so few buyers, that one cannot affirm the stocks bore any certain price except among the Jews; who this day reaped great profit by their infidelity. There were many who called themselves Christians, who offered to buy for time; but as these were people of great distinction, I choose not to mention them, because in effect it would seem to accuse them both of avarice and infidelity. The run upon the Bank is too well known to need a particular relation: for it never can be forgotten, that no one person whatever (except the directors themselves, and some of their particular friends and associates) could convert a bill all that day into specie; all hands being employed to serve them. In the several churches of the city and suburbs, there were seven thousand two hundred and forty-five, who publicly and solemnly declared before the congregation, that they took to wife their several kept-mistresses, which was allowed as valid marriage, the priest not having time to pronounce the ceremony in form. At St Bride's church in Fleet-street, Mr. Woolston,[2] (who writ against the miracles of our Saviour,) in the utmost terrors of conscience, made a public recantation. Dr. Mandeville[3] (who had been groundlessly reported formerly to have done the same,) did it now in good earnest at St James's gate; as did also at the Temple Church several gentlemen, who frequent coffeehouses near the bar. So great was the faith and fear of two of them, that they dropped dead on the spot; but I will not record their names, lest I should be thought invidiously to lay an odium on their families and posterity. [Footnote 2: Thomas Woolston (1669-1733), a deistical writer, born at Northampton; became a Fellow of Sidney College, Cambridge. For his work, "Six Discourses on the Miracles of Christ," he was sentenced to imprisonment for one year and fined one hundred pounds. [T.S.]] [Footnote 3: Bernard de Mandeville, M.D., author of the "Fable of the Bees," a deistical work, the scope of which was to prove, that private vices are public benefits. The work was attacked by Bishop Berkeley in his "Alciphron." De Mandeville was born in Holland about 1670, but came over to England and settled there about the middle of the eighteenth century. He also wrote "The Virgin Unmasked," "The Grumbling Hive," and "Free Thoughts on Religion." He died in 1733. [T.S.]] Most of the players, who had very little faith before, were now desirous of having as much as they could, and therefore embraced the Roman Catholic religion: the same thing was observed of some bawds, and ladies of pleasure. An Irish gentleman out of pure friendship came to make me a visit, and advised me to hire a boat for the ensuing day, and told me, that unless I gave earnest for one immediately, he feared it might be too late; for his countrymen had secured almost every boat upon the river, as judging, that, in the general conflagration, to be upon the water would be the safest place. There were two lords, and three commoners, who, out of scruple of conscience, very hastily threw up their pensions, as imagining a pension was only an annual retaining bribe. All the other great pensioners, I was told, had their scruples quieted by a clergyman or two of distinction, whom they happily consulted. It was remarkable, that several of our very richest tradesmen of the city, in common charity, gave away shillings and sixpences to the beggars who plied about the church doors; and at a particular church in the city, a wealthy church-warden with his own hands distributed fifty twelve-penny loaves to the poor, by way of restitution for the many great and costly feasts, which he had eaten of at their expense. Three great ladies, a valet-de-chambre, two lords, a customhouse-officer, five half-pay captains, and a baronet, (all noted gamesters,) came publicly into a church at Westminster, and deposited a very considerable sum of money in the minister's hands; the parties, whom they had defrauded, being either out of town, or not to be found. But so great is the hardness of heart of this fraternity, that among either the noble or vulgar gamesters, (though the profession is so general,) I did not hear of any other restitution of this sort. At the same time I must observe, that (in comparison of these) through all parts of the town, the justice and penitence of the highwaymen, housebreakers, and common pickpockets, was very remarkable. The directors of our public companies were in such dreadful apprehensions, that one would have thought a parliamentary inquiry was at hand; yet so great was their presence of mind, that all the Thursday morning was taken up in private transfers, which by malicious people was thought to be done with design to conceal their effects. I forbear mentioning the private confessions of particular ladies to their husbands; for as their children were born in wedlock, and of consequence are legitimate, it would be an invidious task to record them as bastards; and particularly after their several husbands have so charitably forgiven them. The evening and night through the whole town were spent in devotions both public and private; the churches for this one day were so crowded by the nobility and gentry, that thousands of common people were seen praying in the public streets. In short, one would have thought the whole town had been really and seriously religious. But what was very remarkable, all the different persuasions kept by themselves, for as each thought the other would be damned, not one would join in prayer with the other. At length Friday came, and the people covered all the streets; expecting, watching, and praying. But as the day wore away, their fears first began to abate, then lessened every hour, at night they were almost extinct, till the total darkness, that hitherto used to terrify, now comforted every freethinker and atheist. Great numbers went together to the taverns, bespoke suppers, and broke up whole hogsheads for joy. The subject of all wit and conversation was to ridicule the prophecy, and rally each other. All the quality and gentry were perfectly ashamed, nay, some utterly disowned that they had manifested any signs of religion. But the next day even the common people, as well as their betters, appeared in their usual state of indifference. They drank, they whored, they swore, they lied, they cheated, they quarrelled, they murdered. In short, the world went on in the old channel. I need not give any instances of what will so easily be credited; but I cannot omit relating, that Mr. Woolston advertised in that very Saturday's Evening Post, a new Treatise against the Miracles of our Saviour; and that the few who had given up their pensions the day before, solicited to have them continued: which as they had not been thrown up upon any ministerial point, I am informed was readily granted. INDEX. Abjuration oath. Accusation, false, a means for injuring a community. Action, motives for, often interested. Administration and Legislature. Agriculture, encouraged by the clergy. Alberoni, Cardinal. Ale-houses, should be closed at midnight. Alsatia. Ammianus Marcellinus. Anabaptists. Anne, Queen, her good qualities, "Bounty" of. Arber, Mr. Edward. Arians. Arius. Army, English, its bad discipline. Aristotle, his dictum about happiness and wisdom. Asgill, John, biographical sketch of. Athanasian creed. Atheism, not worse than superstition or enthusiasm, rise of, due to the Rebellion and murder of King Charles I. Atheist, a perfect, is a perfectly moral man. Atheology. Atterbury, Bishop. Austin. Bacon, Lord. Basilovitz, John. Baumgarten's "Travels". Beggars, often intercept charity intended for the poor, distinct from the poor, in Ireland, methods for dealing with them, should wear badges. Belief, want of, a defect. Benefices, value of dividing them. Berkeley, Earl of, his letter to Swift. Berkeley, Lady, Swift's character of. Bettesworth, Sergeant, his rencontre with Swift, Dr. Dunkin on, and Dr. Theophilus Bolton. Bible, the, difficult to understand. Biblical terminology. Bill for a Modus, its hardships on the clergy. Bill of Division, its injustice. Bill of Residence, its injustice. Bindon, F., portrait of Swift. Bishoprics, value of, manner of filling Irish, necessity for increasing their revenues. Bishops, their tyranny, their power derived from the people comparison between English and French, Swift's description of the Irish, arguments against their power to let leases, their action at the Reformation, reduction of their revenues, evil of giving them power to let leases for lives, their power over church lands, two kinds lately promoted. Blasphemy, "breaking" for. Bolingbroke, Lord. Bolton, Dr. Theophilus, Archbishop of Cashel, and Bettesworth. Bouffiers, Mons. "Bounty," Queen Anne's, Charles the Second's. Bowen, Zachery. Boyce, S. Boyle, Dean. Boyse, J. Brodrick, Allen. Brown, Rev. Mr. Budgell, Eustace, his appropriation of Tindal's effects. Bull, Dr. George. Burke, Edmund, on Swift's sermon on "Doing Good." Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, on occasional conformity, Swift's satire on, Dartmouth on, biographical sketch of, "History of the Reformation," "Vindication of the Church and State of Scotland," his criticisms on the Tories, Swift's rejoinder, his argument against Popery, Swift's rejoinder, his opinion of the clergy, reference to the Tory clergy, Swift's criticism on his methods, Swift's criticism on his style, on Presbyterians, the oracle of the hypocritical zealots. Business, corruptions in. Campegi, Cardinal. Carr, Charles, Bishop of Killaloe. Catholic Church, the necessity for a head. Catholics, Roman, their persecutions of Protestants, their favour with King James II., reasons for repeals of Test Act in their favour, first conquerors of Ireland, their rebellions were purely defensive measures, always defenders of the monarch, are true Whigs, their loyalty to the Hanoverian House, have as fair a title to be called Protestants as Dissenters, the bulk of them loyal to King Charles I., lost their estates in Ireland for fighting for the king, merits of, and Dissenters, contrasted, arguments for repeal of Test Act affecting the equally with Dissenters, the heavy accusation they lie under, Catholicism and Protestantism, differences between. Catholicism, Roman, its condition in England. Cato, the wisest Roman, a stoic by manners not by conviction. Censor, the office of, suggestion for its establishment in England. Charity, the outcome of self-knowledge. Charles I., Act of, concerning the bishops and the church lands, his trial, sermon on the martyrdom of, his ill-treatment by the Puritans ingratitude to him by the House of Commons history of the events which led to his death Charles the Second's Bounty Cheerfulness, a blessing of the poor Chesterfield, Earl of Children, a blessing and assistance to the poor Chinuchii, Cardinal de Chocolate Houses Christianity, Real or Primitive, inconveniences attending its abolition advantages proposed by its abolition has no share in the opposition to sectaries abolition of, would mean loss of occupation to freethinkers no necessity for extirpating it evils attending its abolition its organization its truth denied by freethinking usefulness of preaching on its mysteries early its want of truth a source of joy to the wicked suffered by being blended with Gentile philosophy Church and Dissent, their mutual attitudes Church, sleeping in, sermon on Church, the, not answerable for the depravity of human nature its total exclusion of Dissent from its emoluments the necessity for it being a corporation duty to, of the members of condition of, in Ireland Church of Christianity, its inconsistencies Church of England Man, his religious attitude his attitude to the various forms and ceremonies his toleration for worship his passion for the Church his abhorrence of flinging scandals upon the clergy his opinion that publications against religion should not be unlimited his sentiments with respect to government his idea of the freedom of a nation he is not bound to opinions of either party independent of the civil power Churches, necessity for their increase their destruction due to the Rebellion Church lands, reasons for the rise in the value of bad effects if sold to the laity Church of Ireland, the National Church Church revenues, expedients for increasing Church thermometer Cicero Clarendon, Edward Hyde, Earl of, "History of the Great Rebellion" Clendon, John Clergy, the, their ignorance and servility mistaken in not mixing more with the laity care to be taken by them because of the distinct habit they wear better if they appeared dressed like ordinary men unreasonableness of the charge of their persecuting spirit their antagonism to Dissent springs from a worthy motive have they any power independent of the civil their relation to Divine Right their love of power not a peculiar characteristic their claim to judicial power the allegation that it is their interest to corrupt religion, combated excellent as a body what they pretend to their power in choosing bishops Burnet's opinion of the the Tory, Burnet's reference to presumption on their part to teach matters of speculation the bill for their residence English _versus_ Irish English, their poverty concerning the hatred against not popular in Christian countries their writings against popery consequences to them of the repeal of the Test Act their attitude to the Test Act Clergy, Irish, James I.'s dealings with condition of their maintenance precarious their resort to flattery for preferment plan for a parliamentary taxation of their impoverished state want in them of concerted action attitude of landlords to their right to self-taxation, their interests allied with the interests of the country Clergyman, Swift's position as a Young, letter to Clergymen, handicapped by small means the fates of Climate, its influence on Government Cokayne, Sir Thomas Collins, Anthony biographical sketch of Swift's attitude to his "Discourse of Freethinking" put into plain English by Swift Collins, J. Churton, his opinion of Swift's motive in writing the "Project" his opinion on Steele and "The Guardian" on Swift's criticism of Burnet Commissioners, Itinerary, for inspection of official conduct Common-place books, use of Commons, Irish House of, its alacrity in supporting the king against the Pretender Commonwealth, our duty to corruptions in Community, influence of private people on injured by false accusations injured by false rumours Commutation, its purpose Compton, Dr. Henry, Bishop of London Concordate of the Gallican church Connill, J. Conscience, liberty of defined, testimony of, sermon on its definition our director and guide its limitations no higher than knowledge liberty of a due regard to its dictates conducive to general happiness well founded, if guided by religion moral honesty in place of a good guide to motives fear and hope the offsprings of directs us to the love of God the laws appeal to Constantine the Great Constitution, English, a growth Contentment, the poor man's, sermon on Conversation Convocation, Lower House of Convocation, should be abolished among Protestants "Correspondent, The" Corruption, in all departments of trading Cotton, Sir John Court Party Coward, William, biographical sketch of Coyne, Nicholas Craik, Sir Henry, his opinion on Swift's tract on Collins Cranmer, Archbishop Creation, scripture system of Creech, Thomas Cromwell, Oliver, his notion of liberty of conscience Cromwell, Richard Cromwell, Thomas Dartmouth, Lord, his opinion of Burnet Deanery, income necessary for a Death, its evil an impossibility Debt, National, proposal for a fund for Deceit, its practice detrimental to the well-being of a community De Foe, D. Demosthenes Deposition, can a king of England be deposed? Devil, the, his power Diogenes, his saying, "that a poor old man was the most miserable thing in life" his opinion of Socrates Discretion Disobedience, breeds sedition in a state Dissenters, their natural union with Whigs their attitude to the Bills of Residence and Division their enjoyment of toleration Swift's attitude to his description of them in "A Tale of a Tub" tracts written by Swift against them their expedient addresses of loyalty representation of the House of Lords against address of, against their representation their encouragement to refuse the oath of abjuration the disadvantages they lie under will be remedied by the repeal of the Test Act allied to the Puritans Divine Right, the clergy's relation to Dolben, Bishop of Rochester Dorset, Earl of, Swift's letter to Doubts, not answerable for Downing, Sir George Drogheda, persecution at siege of Dudley and Empson Dunkin, Dr. William, on Serjeant Bettesworth his copy of Dr. Gibbs's "Paraphrase of the Psalms" Dunkirk Duns Scotus Dunton, John Dutch, the, their recognition of liberty of conscience in religious matters their Commonwealth though they have liberty of conscience they yet enforce tests for office Duties, of each to the other in a state Ecclesiastical jurisdiction, should be vested in the hands of catholic archbishops and bishops Education, value of, to a young clergyman university Election, Elisha and Hazael Employments, battle for Empson and Dudley English language, value of its study "Englishman, The" Epicurus Epiphonema Episcopacy Erasmus Establishment, enquiry into its nature Eusebius, Bishop of Vercelli Evans, Dr., Bishop of Meath Executive Power, the care it should take Faction, detrimental to brotherly love Fagel, Mons Fairfax, General Faith, its great power Falkiner, Sir F. Falkland, Viscount, biographical sketch of his method in writing False witness, sermon on, Fanatics, their insolence Filmer, Sir Robert, biographical sketch of First fruits and tenths First fruits Flattery, self-knowledge secures us against its snares Flax, bill for the encouragement of its growth Forbes, Edward Forster, Dr., Bishop of Raphoe Forster, John, his "Life of Swift" his suggested date for the writing of "The Project" and "The Sentiments" Fountaine, Sir A. Freedom, of a nation, in what it consists Freethinker, indispensable duty of Freethinkers, their natural connection with Whigs the most virtuous people in all ages ignorance and vice their principal characteristics Freethinking, its mischief denies Christianity and missionaries enjoined by Christ means free-speaking and free-writing some thoughts on Friendship, depends on brotherly love Fuller, Dr. Thomas Gallican Church, concordate of Gaming, addiction to how to stop it Gardiner's "History of England" Gay, John, "The Espousal" Genevan system Gibbs, Dr., Swift's Remarks on his Paraphrase of the Psalms Gildon, Charles Giving, more blessed than receiving Godolphin Good, doing, sermon on Gospel, the, too difficult for freethinkers want of faith in value of its truth Government, Hobbes's principles of, combated if every species of, be equally lawful, they are not equally expedient English, its advantage over all other forms its nature least understood by lawyers in the body of the people how invested in England what it cannot do its relation to a state religion from God Grabe, Dr. Grant, Col. F. Greed, often results in ill to a state "Grub Street Journal," on the Swift-Bettesworth Controversy "Guardian, The" Hanover Club Happiness, does not depend on wealth Harley, Earl of Oxford Hazael and Elisha Health, the best of all earthly possessions Heathcote, Sir Gilbert Heathens, the groundwork of their virtues Henry VII., value of land and money in the reign of Henry VIII., his seizures of Church revenues his attitude to Catholicism his favouritism his attitude to the clergy Heptarchy, the, its power Heresy, the beginning of dissent among the early Christians Heylin, Dr. Peter "Observations on the History of Presbyterians" Hickeringil, Edmund, biographical sketch of Hickes, Dr. George, biographical sketch of his replies to Tindal High Church, how considered by the press Hilary, St. Hill, Samuel Hobbes, Thomas, biographical sketch of Swift's arguments against his theory of the sovereign power his opinion that the youth of England corrupted their political principles by reading the classical writers his opinion of the bad influence of classical histories Holiness, of life, most worthy to God Holland, the worst governed country on account of its having no state religion Honour, largely a false principle private, different from public Hospitality, depends on brotherly love House of Commons, Irish, the clergy's complaint against Howard, Robert, Bishop of Elphin Howard, Col. Thomas Huguenots, the Humility, a virtue fitting every station in life the outcome of self knowledge Hypocrisy, better than vice Ignorance, the mother of superstition, but not of devotion Immorality, legislation against, ineffective an incentive to good conduct _Imperium in imperio_, doctrine of Independents differences between, and Presbyterians their end Infidelity, its infamy Infidels, their advice interested cannot satisfy the general reason of mankind the fallacy of their arguments against the Trinity Informers, their interest Inns of Court, "the worst instituted seminaries in any Christian country" Intemperance, dangerous to upright men Interest, self, the spring of most actions Interests, private and national Ireland, present condition of the Church in wretched condition of plantations in condition of the clergy of first conquerors of, English Catholics Rebellion in its misery and want the causes of this misery its intolerable hardships the folly and vanity of its landowners pride and vanity of its people discouragement of its manufactures idleness and sloth in cruelty by which it is governed bondage of its laws counteracting influence against the government foundations and charities in fraud of the servants in necessity for proper training of the children of the poor in the beggars in its poor laws methods for dealing with beggars badges for beggars in sermon on wretched condition of Ireton, General James the First's Bounty James I., his dealings with the Irish clergy James II., his abdication attempted illegal and unjustifiable exercise of power his conduct contrasted with that of Charles I. his relations with the Church Jerome, St. Jethro, his advice to Moses Jews, disbelief in their teachings Jezebel John, King Johnson, Esther, three prayers for Johnson, Rev. Samuel Josephus Kevan Bayl's new ballad King, Dr. W., Archbishop of Dublin biographical sketch of the Dublin clergy's representation to his way of encouraging the clergy to residence Swift's letter to, on the Repeal for the Test Act Kit-Cat Club Kite, Serjeant Lancaster, Henry Duke of Land, history of the rise in the value of Landlords, Irish, their attitude to their clergy Laud, Archbishop Lauderdale, Lord Laws, human and divine Lawyers, of all people least understand the nature of government ignorant of the early history of England Learning, its prevalence during early Christian times Leases, bishops' evils of letting, for lives "Legion Club, The" Legislature and administration Legislature, the supreme power in a state Leslie, Charles Libertines, their principles Liberty, Roman idea of enjoyment of, better than contentions Life, its love, an essential impulse of our nature a trust from God its advantages for general use Limiting Act Lindsay, Dr. Linen, encouragement of its manufacture Loch, Lord Locke, John, his idea of government "Human Understanding" London, its influence on the kingdom the power it may have for good a law for closing its ale-houses at twelve Londonderry, siege of Lords, House of, character of their representation against Dissenters Lorrain, Duke of Love, brotherly, among the early Christians the causes of the want of, among us Papists and fanatics one cause for the want of weakness and folly a cause for the want of its non-insistence a cause of the want of politics a cause of the want of the evil consequences of the want of the want of, puts an end to hospitality and friendship motives for embracing injured by faction helped by religion of country, defined Love, the last legacy of Christ of self, not a fault Loyalty, a means to obtaining good character Lucretius Ludlow, Edmund Machiavelli Magdalen College, its justification of William of Orange's declaration Magistrates, their abuses care taken in their appointment supreme, doctrine of resistance to Mandeville, Bernard de Manilius, Marcus Manners, degeneracy of, a preceding to the ruin of a state its corruption ruin to a state depravation of Manufacture, influence of, on a community Margarita. _See_ Margherita, Francesca de l'Epine Margherita, Francesca de l'Epine Marprelate tracts Marsh, Dr. Narcissus Marten, John Martyrdom of Charles I., its lessons the duty of all protestants to keep holy the day of the Mason, Monck, his "History of St. Patrick's Cathedral" his list of tracts on the Test Act controversy on the date of the "Narrative of the attempts against the Test Act" on "Roman Catholic reasons for the Repeal of the Test" McBride, John M'Carthy, Charles McCrackan Midleton, Lord Milton, John, his work on Divorce Minutius Felix, Marcus Miracle, as much a mystery as the Trinity positively affirmed by the Gospels Missionaries and freethinking Moderation, a clerical cry in politics, true and false Modus, a petition against Molesworth, Robert, Viscount Molloy, Neale Monarchy, absolute, doctrine of hereditary, to be preferred to elective the hereditary right to be sacred, if not dangerous to the constitution King _de facto_, and King _de jutre_ succession discussed Monasteries, their scandals Money, history of its values Montaigne, citation from Moore, Bishop, of Norwich Moral honesty, in place of conscience Morality, classical _versus_ scriptural without religion is a half virtue Morals, schemes for the improvement of More, Dr. Henry More, Sir Thomas Mortmain, statute of Motives, the best ground for judgments Mystery, to declare against, is to declare against scripture conditions when it may be suspicious faith, necessary for a belief in nature full of not contrary to reason "Narrative of what passed in London" National debt, proposal for a fund for Nayler Neighbour, our duty to Nelson, Mr. Nichols's "Speculum Sarisburianum" Non-residence Non-resistance Oath of abjuration Oath of supremacy. Obedience, St. Peter's directions for St. Paul's directions for avoid running into extremes on the question of "Observator, The" Occasional conformity Office, qualifications for, as they are generally accepted "Old and New Lights" Oldisworth, Mr. O'Neill, Owen Roe O'Neill, Philip Roe McHugh O'Neill, Sir Phelim Opinion, difference in, not a matter for quarrel compared with fashions its power difficulty of changing in Orange, William of Oratory Origen Ormonde, Marquis of Oxford, Earl of Oxford University, its revenues Papists in Ireland, their reduced condition loyalty to King George no cause for fear from the Parishes, their union under one incumbent Parliaments, annual Parties, our attitude to Party Government, tends to enslave senates tends to misunderstanding of personal character establishes an incorrect standard for character Passive obedience Peace, the last legacy of Christ Pedantry, the fear of Pembroke, Lord Penn, William Penny, Rev. John Peter the Cruel Philip II. of Spain Philips, Ambrose Philosophy, classical unrevealed, imperfect fails to explain the Deity its failure to inculcate the doctrine of Providence defective in its moral teachings contrasted by personal examples with Christian disputes amongst the teachers of Christian, its perfection teaches reliance on God teaches courtesy and kindness is "without partiality" is without hypocrisy contrasted by personal examples with unrevealed Pilkington, M., reference to sermon on "Doing Good" Plato, his maxim on worship his divine precept his doctrine of happiness Platonic philosophy, its relation to the early church Plays, their bad influence on morals Pluralities Plutarch Politics, dangerous to upright men Poor, the, are not the object of envy less subject to temptations than the rich the blessings they enjoy their power for doing good to others have a greater share of happiness than the rich Poor Laws, Irish Pope, the supremacy of his power in France Popery, Burnet's arguments against, its dangers national leaning to the most absurd system of Christianity its merits Protestants must not be charged with its errors and corruptions its increase penal laws against should be abrogated its priests should be settled by law in Ireland its priests should be entitled to tithe the results of this proposal for effectually preventing its growth Popes, their seizure of power Potter, Dr. John, biographical sketch of Power, absolute, belief in, dangerous to any state legislate not pleaded for by Swift Prasini Pratt, Dr., Dean of Down Prayer, an evening Preaching, value of practice in simplicity in, a prime requisite the popular manner the best styles to be avoided in the moving manner jesting in plain reasoning in pathetic _versus_ rational two principal branches of quotations in uselessness of taking the mysteries of Christian religion for subjects for not to perplex with doubts in one of the disadvantages it labours under its great neglect its neglect attended by the misbehaviour of worshippers objections against, and the unreasonableness of these causes for the neglect and scorn of neglect of, due to ignorance of religious principles neglect of, due to an evil conscience neglect of, due to the heart being set upon worldly things, neglect of, due to the habit of decrying religion, neglect of, remedies against, good preaching, not so essential as right dispositions, Predestination, Preferment, qualifications necessary for, given for zeal and not capacity, Presbyterianism, possibility of its becoming the National Church, consequences from its establishment as the national religion, Presbyterians, in Ireland, persecuted for their religion, their complaint against persecution, their "Plea of Merit," "Plea of Merit," discussion as to date of its first edition, differences between, and Independents, against the execution of King Charles I, and King James II., and the Pretender, their loyalty and religious principles, their plea of merit absurd, their great position in Ireland, their loyalty to King George, will join the army but not the militia, their case to defend the country against the Pretender, must not be reformed, their church government independent of the state, their opinion of Episcopacy, Presbytery, Press, legislation for its limitation, its restraint a badge of popery, Pretender, the, his cause, not supported by the Irish dissenters, Priests, cannot be relied on for anything relating to religion, hired to lead men into mischief, Princes, influence of their bad example, their duties for good, their influence on a nation, should be careful in choosing advisers, Prophets, the, were freethinkers, Proselytism, consequences of, dangerous in a state, Prostitution, condemned by the priests, Protestantism and Catholicism, differences between, Publicans, suggestion for their prosecution if they serve drink to drunken persons, Public spirit, a blessing, Punishment, eternal, doctrine of, Puppet-shows, Puritanism, Puritans, the, destroyers of the Reformation, their attitude to the state in the time of Charles I, their murderous parliament, they corrupted the old virtues of the English nation, how they injured the country, Quakers, the, Quarrels, religious, Queen, the, her power for good, her power over the stage, Quotations, value of their sparing use, Reason, particular, fallible, Rebellion of 1648, objections against, of 1642, the of 1688 contrary to the teaching of Christ "Reconciler, The" Reeves, Rev. Mr., Swift's letters to Dr. King Reformation, its establishment censure of the clergy on its methods "Rehearsal, The" Religion, schemes for the improvement of its negligence by the people suggestion for it being necessary to any preferment should be made fashionable necessity for union in impossible to remove opinions in its fundamentals thoughts on further thoughts on national, legal to change necessary for the well-governing of mankind its denial often the spring of sin to raise difficulties against, not conducive to virtuous living conducive to brotherly love Republics Resolutions, easily broken Restitution, impossible to make, when the injury is to a state Resurrection, doctrine of Revolution, considerations for, Reward, an incentive to good conduct Rich, the, more subject to diseases often have little appetites subjected to worry their wants are more numerous than those of the poor are more prone to melancholy often grow so, by unjust means their only advantage that of the power they possess to be good to others Richards, Col. Richard III. Riches, may be blessings attainment of, does not necessitate the possession of noble qualities not conducive either to ease of body or quiet of mind Riddell "Rights of the Christian Church," Tindal's book examined its notoriety due to its critics Rome, decline in the spirit of liberty there Rooke, Mr. George, linen-draper and Quaker Rumours, false, the spreading of, a means for injuring a community Rump parliament Sacheverell, Dr. Henry Sacrament, the Its mercenary use Presbyterian objection to prostituting the service of our falsification of the Sacrilege Sancroft, Archbishop Satan, his depths St. Patrick's, liberty of, petition of to Swift St. Paul, on obedience on mutual service his opinion of philosophy St. Peter, on obedience Schism, its danger and spiritual evil Schoolmen, the Scotch, the characteristics of Scott, Sir W., his opinion on Swift's tract on Collins his criticism on Swift for writing his tracts against the bishops his criticism on Swift's tracts against the bishops his suggestion on Swift's Test tracts Scriptures, various, Christian various readings in Christian, different opinions about, among Christians themselves the, abounding in expressions setting forth the depravity of man Sects, the reason for their toleration in a state their position in a state the power they should have various Sedition, caution for its prevention Self-knowledge, the want of, common man himself most ignorant in reasons for the ignorance of self-communion conducive to business interferes with the time for fear of discovering vices interferes with inclination often a hindrance to advantages of humility the outcome of a security from flattery its value in time of adversity its charity Self-love not a fault Senates, their disregard of outside proposals Seneca Sermons, the reading of Sermons, Swift's, on Mutual Subjection on the Testimony of Conscience on the Trinity on Brotherly Love on the Difficulty of Knowing One's Self on False Witness on the Wisdom of this World on Doing Good on the Martyrdom of King Charles I on the Poor Man's Contentment on the Wretched Condition of Ireland on Sleeping in Church Servants, Irish, fraud of Service, mutual Sharp, Dr. John, Archbishop of York Shaster, the Sheridan, Dr. T. Shrewsbury, Duke of Sin, original, doctrine of Slang Sleep, often a poor man's privilege Sleeping in church, sermon on Smallridge, Dr. Smoking, habit bad among the youth Society for propagating Free-thinking Socinus, Leelius his teachings on worship the greatest of the heathen philosophers Diogenes' opinion of Solemn league and covenant Solomon, on wisdom Solon, his confession of weakness, against death Somers, Lord South, Dr. Robert Spinke, J. Spinoza, Baruch Stage, the, the necessity for its reformation Stanhope, Dormer, Earl of Chesterfield State, the, ruined by corruption of manners States-General, the Stearne, Dr. John, Bishop of Clogher Steele, Sir R. his opinions of the "Project," in the "Tatler" his opinion of Swift in the "Apology" the "Guardian" "Englishman" Stephen, Leslie, "History of English Thought in Eighteenth Century" Stillingfleet, Edward, Bishop of Worcester Stratford, Earl of Style, faults to be avoided in Suarez, Francis Subjection, mutual, sermon on its practice extinguishes pride its practice contributes to the general happiness brings about contentment Succession, can the people of England alter the instances in Greek and Roman history where it was altered Sunday, the difference between, and weekdays Swan, Captain Sweet singers Swift, his attitude towards the Church of England, his position as a religious thinker his High Church leanings made evident his relation to the Whigs considered as a party man his letter to Pope his championship of the Church of England his sentiments with regard to it no bigot either in religion or politics his friendship with men of both parties "the Importance of the 'Guardian' considered" his letter to Stella on Collins's tract his belief in the dignity of the Church. his disinterested use of the Deanery lands his disinterestedness in his remarks on the bishops his opinion on his office of a clergyman loss of favour with the Whigs for writing his "Letter on the Sacramental Test" his rencontre with Serjeant Bettesworth his sermons criticisms on reference to his sermon on "Doing Good" controversy with Serjeant Bettesworth his letter to the Earl of Dorset his reply to the address of the inhabitants of the Liberty of St. Patrick's his poem on "Brother Protestants and Fellow Christians" his epigram to Serjeant Kite Swift, Thomas Synesius of Gyrene Tackers Talapoins "Tale of a Tub" Taxation, unequal Taylor, Dr., Jeremy Technical language, bad for style Temple, Sir W. Tenison, Dr. Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury Test Act letter on reasons for repealing it combated alteration in religion, if it be repealed the consequences of its repeal on the offices of the Crown likelihood of the success of the agitation for repeal of attitude of the clergy to arguments for its repeal combated Churchman's argument against, combated Swift's tracts against Swift's successful agitation for to be repealed in Ireland first Presbyterians' attitude towards the vindication of attempts made by Dissenters for the repeal of Dissenters. efforts for its repeal address of Dissenters against criticism on the pamphlet on "The Nature and Consequences of the Sacramental Test" queries relating to criticism on the advantages proposed by its repeal to write impartially on, one must be indifferent to particular systems of Christianity consequences of its repeal to the clergy its repeal will remedy the disadvantages the Dissenters lie under reasons offered for its repeal in favour of Catholics King Charles Second's arguments for its repeal affecting Dissenters and Roman Catholics equally ostensible commendation of a criticism on "The Presbyterians Plea of Merit" some few thoughts on ten reasons for repealing it Thales, his dictum for bearing ill-fortune Thermometer, the church Throckmorton, Job Tiberius, his saying about the offences against the gods Tidcomb, Colonel Tillotson, Archbishop Tindal, Dr. Matthew, biographical sketch of considerations as to his fitness for writing on Christianity Swift's criticism on the style of his book his disregard for truth and justice his motives for writing his book his vanity published his book in hopes of being bribed to silence nature and tendency of his work his ridicule of Christianity his work "a twig for sinking libertines to catch at" Tisdal, Dr., his tract on "The Sacramental Test" Tithes their application to the maintenance of monasteries, a scandal Tofts, Mrs. Catherine Toland, John Tom's coffee-house Toricellius Evangelista Tories, their aims their aversion for sects which once destroyed the constitution their veneration for monarchical government and Whigs, their common agreements their differences contrasted Tradesmen, power they have for public weal or woe Trimmers, the Trinity, doctrine of sermon on defence of, by the learned, a mistake our ignorance or incapacity no test of its fallacy its affirmation, opinion, and distinction, a mystery to declare against mystery is to declare against Scripture faith necessary for a belief in probably we could not understand it, if it were explained fallacy of the infidel's arguments against Tutchin, John Universities, the want of discipline there Valentini Varro, Marcus Terentius Veniti Vicar, condition of a Vicar general Victorious, Fabius Marius Wallis, Dr. John Walls, Archdeacon Warreng, Mr., letter from Washington's "Observations on the Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction of the Kings of England Waterford, Swift and the vacancy of its see Wharton, Henry, biographical sketch of, Emmet's character of Whig and Tory contrasted attitude to each other their common agreements their differences Whigs, their want of zeal against Popery definition of their encouragement of intemperate language their Jacobitism their scandalous reflections on the universities Whiston, Dr. W. biographical sketch of his prophecy Whitefriars White's coffee-house Williams, Dr. Daniel Wisdom, sorrow in much heathen, high opinion of bad opinion of Witness, faithful, duty to bear false, how a man may be justly so-called how to defend against Women of the day, their low standard of morality Wood's project, sermon on Woollen manufacture Woolston, Thomas World, the wisdom of the, sermon on Worrall, Rev. John Worship, Plato's maxim on Socrates on the established, any separation from, dangerous to the public peace Wotton, Dr. W. "Yahoo's Overthrow, The" York, Duke of, Popish plot against Zeal, in politics, dangerous in a state violent, a synonym for pride Zendavesta, the Zeno, makes vice indifferent 
16856	----	Transcribed from the 1905 James Nisbet and Co. edition by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk SERMONS AT RUGBY By the Rt. Rev. JOHN PERCIVAL, D.D., LORD BISHOP OF HEREFORD SOMETIME HEADMASTER OF RUGBY JAMES NISBET AND CO. LTD. 21 BERNERS STREET, LONDON. 1905 [Title page: title.jpg] [Photograph of John Percival: john.jpg] INTRODUCTORY NOTE This little group of Rugby Sermons is to be taken and read as being nothing more than a few stray chips from the workshop of a busy schoolmaster, brought together by a kindly publisher, and arranged as he thought best. They represent no body of continuous doctrine. In one case the subject may have been suggested by the season of the Christian year; in another it was the meeting or the parting at the beginning or the end of a term that suggested it; or more frequently some incident in the school life of the moment. Such, indeed, almost inevitably is the teaching of a schoolmaster, engrossed in the training of the boys committed to his charge and growing under his hand towards the destiny of their endless life. To those boys, and to the masters, my colleagues, and to other fellow- labourers--some gone to their rest, some still doing their appointed work--I dedicate this brief reminder of our common life in days of happy fellowship. J. HEREFORD. _July_ 1905. I. RELIGIOUS PATRIOTISM. "Jerusalem is built as a city that is at unity in itself. . . . O pray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee. Peace be within thy walls, and plenteousness within thy palaces. For my brethren and companions' sakes I will wish thee prosperity. Yea, because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek to do thee good."--PSALM cxxii. 3, 6-9. As we draw near to the end of our summer term, when so many are about to take leave of their school life, there is sure to rise up in many minds the thought of what this life has done for them or failed to do, and of what the memory of it is likely to be in all their future years as they pass from youth to age. And it should be our aim and desire, as need hardly be said, that from the day when each one comes amongst us as a little boy to the day when he offers his last prayer in this chapel before he goes out into the world, his life here should be of such a sort that its after taste may have no regrets, and no bitterness, and no shame in it, and the memories to be cherished may be such as add to the happiness and strength of later years. And if, as we trust, this is your case, your feeling for your school is almost certain to be in some degree like that which is expressed in this pilgrim psalm. Its language of intense patriotism, steeped in religious feeling, which is the peculiar inspiration of the Old Testament Jew, will seem somehow to express your own feelings for that life in which you grew up from childhood to manhood. Indeed, the best evidence that your school life has not failed of its higher objects is the growth of this same sort of earnest patriotic enthusiasm. Do you feel at all for your school as that unknown Jewish pilgrim who first sung this 122nd Psalm felt for the city of his fathers and the house of God? "Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee. For my brethren and companions' sakes I will wish thee prosperity. Yea, because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek to do thee good." Experience shows us that those English schools have been the best in which this feeling has been strongest and most widely diffused; and that those are the best times in any school which train up and send forth the largest proportion of men who continue to watch over its life, and to pray for it in this spirit: "For my brethren and companions' sakes I will wish thee prosperity. Yea, because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek to do thee good." On the other hand, if this feeling is weak in any school, or among the former members of it, or if it assumes debased forms, as sometimes happens, we see there a sure sign of degeneration. He who, having grown up in any society like ours, is possessed by no such love for it, and stirred by no enthusiasm for its good name, and no desire to do it good, and to see good growing in every part of it, such an one has somehow missed the chief blessing that his membership of his school should have brought to him. He may have been unfortunate, or he may have proved unworthy. The atmosphere of his school life, and the associations amidst which he grew up, may have been such that the best thing he can do is to shake himself clear of them and forget them. To such an one his school time has been a grave and lifelong misfortune; and it is the condemnation of any society if there are many such cases in it. It is, however, exceptional in English life for men who have grown up in a great school to be stirred by no glow of patriotic feeling for it. Whatever their own experience of it may have been, they are not altogether blind to the things that constitute its greatness, and they love to hear it well spoken of. But the quality of their patriotism will depend very much on the quality of their own life; so that the task we have always before us is to be infusing into our community such a spirit and purpose, as shall infect each soul amongst us with those higher aims, and tastes, and motives, with that hatred of things mean or impure, and that love of things that are manly, honest, and of good report, which distinguish all nobler characters from the baser, and which are produced and fostered, and made to work strongly in every society that has any claim to good influence. Seeing, then, that a man's patriotism is to a great extent the expression of his personal life, how instructive is this picture of the patriot which the 122nd Psalm sets before us. We see thus first of all how he feels the unity of his people--their one pervading life, and himself a part of it, though possibly far away--"Jerusalem is built as a city that is at unity in itself: thither the tribes go up." Those were times when Israel suffered from division of tribe against tribe, times when the pulse of common life hardly beat at all, times of isolation or of jealousy; but the true patriot in Israel, as everywhere, was always possessed by the intense feeling of the oneness of his people under one Lord; and whenever this feeling fails, we look in vain for the higher forms of common life. But we note, too, this Psalmist's passionate personal devotion to the object of his patriotic love--"They shall prosper that love thee"--"For my brethren and companions' sakes I will wish thee prosperity." Who can read unmoved these noble and generous outpourings? We see, moreover, how his feeling expresses itself, as true love always does express itself in the desire to do good to its object, and, above all, how it breathes the spirit of moral and religious earnestness. "Yea, because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek to do thee good." If ever you desire to test the sincerity and the worth of any love you bear to person, place, institution, or society, you have only to turn to this Psalm, and see if these words fit your thoughts, desires, and endeavours--"They shall prosper that love thee--For my brethren and companions' sakes I will wish thee prosperity--Yea, because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek to do thee good." Here are the notes of true patriotic feeling--personal love, public spirit, sanctified by moral and religious purpose, desire to do good. These are the qualities which are the salt of all societies, and it is by virtue of these that they win their good name, if they do win it. In the history of our own school we can point to abundant illustrations of this truth. I will mention one only, familiar to those who know our history. "I verily believe," wrote a School-house boy to his friend fifty-three years ago--"I verily believe my whole being is soaked through with wishing and hoping and striving to do the school good, or, rather, to hinder it from falling in this critical time, so that all my cares, and affections, and conversation, thought, words, and deeds, look to that involuntarily." Such was one of your predecessors as he sat here Sunday by Sunday, a boy like any of you. He was eager to follow those friends who had preceded him to Oxford as scholars of Balliol; he was keenly interested in all intellectual pursuits; he turned for his daily pleasure to literature or history; but alongside of it all, or rather through it all, underlying it all, giving earnestness and fervour, the true unselfish quality, to it all, there was burning in his heart a consuming zeal for the good of his house and school. "For my brethren and companions' sakes I will wish thee prosperity. Yea, because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek to do thee good." It was through the spirit and the lives of such as he, growing up here, and leavening all the life around them, and then going forth in the same spirit, to live the noble and earnest type of life elsewhere, that the name of Rugby School became honoured among schools, and this chapel came to be looked upon as a sacred home of inspiring influences; and it is only through an unfailing succession of such Rugbeians--growing up here in the same spirit, and going forth endowed with the same character and the same purpose--that this honourable name, this tradition of good influences, can be perpetuated. And, if we desire to see how close this is to the spirit and the work of our Lord, how it is, in fact, one manifestation of that spirit which is the saving influence in human life; we have only to turn from the text with which I started to that with which I may conclude, from the Psalmist meditating on the city and temple of his heart's affections, to the Saviour, as He drew near to the Cross, praying for His disciples--"Father, the hour is come. . . . I have glorified Thee on the earth: I have finished the work Thou gavest Me to do. I have manifested Thy name unto the men whom Thou gavest me out of the world." . . . "And for their sakes I sanctify Myself, that they also may be sanctified. Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on Me through their word." The only change we see as we step from the Psalms to the Gospel, from the Jewish pilgrim to the Saviour whom we worship, is that religious patriotism has expanded into the love of souls, the love of Him who laid down His life to save us from the power of sin and death. It was for you and me that Christ was praying; and His prayer for us will be answered so soon as it inspires us to follow in His footsteps, so that we too, as we kneel before God each morning, each night, and think of our duty to those around us, may be able to say, in these words of His, which are at once a prayer and a consecrating vow--"For their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also may be sanctified.'" II. THE CHILD IN THE MIDST. "And He took a child and set Him in the midst of them: and when He had taken him in His arms, He said unto them, Whosoever shall receive one of such children in My name, receiveth Me: and whosoever shall receive Me, receiveth not Me, but Him that sent Me."--ST. MARK ix. 36, 37. It is one of the characteristics of our time, one of its most hopeful and most encouraging signs, that men are awaking to higher and purer conceptions of the Christian life and what it is that constitutes such a life. We are beginning to feel, as it was not felt by former generations, that the only true religion, the only Christianity worthy of the name, is that which aims at embodying and reproducing the spirit, the thought, the ideas of the Saviour. Through and underneath all ecclesiastical and mediaeval revivals, and all vagaries of church tradition or of ritual, this feeling seems to be growing with a steady growth, that the real test of a man's religion is the evidence which his life affords of the Christ-like spirit. And this growing feeling gives an ever-fresh interest to the words and the judgment of the Lord on all matters of individual conduct and daily intercourse; so that if we are possessed at all by it, the Saviour is becoming more of a living person to us, and we ask ourselves more frequently, more earnestly, with more of reality and more of practical meaning in the question, how He would judge this or that side of our life, whether our conduct is in harmony with His spirit, and whether the standards of our life fit at all with His teaching and injunctions. And how full of new meaning every familiar chapter of the Gospel becomes to you, if you are once roused to this kind of feeling; if you are feeling all the time, here is the spirit which should be dominating my own life and determining it, here are the thoughts, ideas, and views of conduct which should be mine also. How does my common life fit with all this? And it is with something like this feeling in your minds that I would ask you to consider the text I have just read to you. "Jesus took a child and set him in the midst of them. He took him up in His arms and said, Whosoever shall receive one of such children in My name, receiveth Me." And while we are considering it, let us notice also that in St. Matthew's narrative there are two other very emphatic expressions. "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven"; and "Whoso shall offend one of these little ones that believe in Me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were drowned in the depth of the sea. . . . Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of My Father which is in heaven." Here, then, is the child taken up by Jesus and set in the midst; we know nothing more of him but this one thing, that he represents to us our Lord's Divine love of little children, and His high estimate of childhood, as the mysterious embodiment of that character and those qualities which bring us close to the Divine life. But this is quite enough to make us listen to the lessons of thought and warning and hope, which Jesus expounds to us as He stands with the child in His arms. His words may very well set every one of us thinking about our own life and conduct. We look at this scene--the disciples standing round, their hearts occupied, as ours are apt to be, with their own ambitions, rivalries, and jealousies, and Jesus in the midst with the little child; and we cannot mistake or misinterpret the lessons He teaches us, the lessons which welled up in His heart whenever He saw, or met, or took up in His arms, and blessed a little child. "Let every child you meet," he clearly says to us, "remind you that if you desire to be My disciple and to win a place in My kingdom, you must fling off selfishness, and put in its place the spirit of service and tenderness." "He that would be first must be servant of all." "You must humble yourself as this little child." And then He adds the blessing and the warning:--"Whoso shall receive one such child in My name receiveth Me; but whosoever shall offend one of these little ones, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea." We may pause for a moment to consider what it is in childhood, what are the gifts, qualities, characteristics of the child, that drew from our Lord this special love and care and these injunctions to His followers. We do well to bear them in mind, because He has declared with such emphasis that we have no part in His kingdom unless we retain or recover these gifts. And we should bear them in mind, because of the blessing promised to those who help to preserve these qualities in others. Receive, help, cherish, or protect a child, make the way of goodness easy to him, and shield him from evil, and Christ declares that inasmuch as you have done it to the least of all His little ones, you have done it unto Him. On the other hand, offend any such child, that is to say, hinder, or mislead, spoil or degrade him in any way; do anything to rob a child of any of these Divine gifts, rob him of his innocence, or trustfulness, or his guileless heart, and sow the seeds of evil habits or tastes in their place, and you know the denunciation or curse which the Divine voice has laid upon you for your evil deed. A child, then, is, as it were, a living symbol of that which draws to us the love of Christ, and we cannot doubt that he is so by virtue of his innocence, his obedient spirit, his guilelessness, or simplicity of character, his trustfulness, and by all the untarnished and unspoilt possibilities of goodness in him. It is in the blessed endowment of such gifts as these that the little child looks in the face of Christ, and is embraced in the arms of His love. And these are, or they once were, your gifts. As you love the better life, and hope for good days, hold them fast and cherish them, or if any of them be unhappily lost, let it be your endeavour to recover it. As we contemplate such a scene as this in our Lord's life with the little child in the midst, and listen to the Saviour's words, all the commands and injunctions to keep innocency, to keep the spirit of obedience, to keep a guileless and trusting and loving heart, gain a new force. They seem to speak to us with new voices; for if the true life, the life that has in it the hope of union with Christ, must be a life endowed with these gifts, whether in youth or age, what a blessed thing it will be for you if you have never lost or squandered them. We cannot too soon learn this lesson; for if under the influence of any wrong motives, or following any wrong ideals, or misled by any bad example, you go astray and rob your young life of these divine gifts, no man knows how, or when, or where you will recover them, and become again as a little child. And if we turn our thoughts from our own separate personal life, and look for a moment at our duty as members of a society, how this picture of Christ embracing the little child, and blessing those who receive or help one such, should stir us to new and keener interest in social duty! Does it not carry in it, this example and teaching of the Lord, does it not carry in it the condemnation of a great many of our traditional notions about our duty to the young? We see the Lord's tenderness and love and care for the little child; we see how He values the childlike qualities; and how He enjoins the nursing and the cherishing of these. If, then, we have really learnt the lesson which He thus presses upon us, we shall feel something like reverence for every young life, as it begins its perilous and uncertain course on the sea of man's experiences; and with this feeling we shall be eager to help and protect such lives whenever we have the chance of doing it, and we shall be very careful to do them no wrong. But when we turn from the Gospel and these thoughts which it stirs in us to our common life of every day, does it not rather seem sometimes as if this teaching of the Lord were all a dream and had no reality? And yet there is hardly one of us but would confess that, having once seen this revelation of the Lord, we are put to shame if, as happens sometimes, a young soul comes amongst us endowed with these very gifts of innocence, and high purpose, and trust, and promise of all goodness, which so won the Saviour's heart, and is met, when he comes, in school or house, not by care, or sympathy, or guidance, or protection, as of an elder brother's love, but by experiences of a very different sort. You would agree that it is a shame to us if such an one comes only to find the misleading influence of some thoughtless or bad companion, or to have held up before him some bad tradition as the law which should rule his life here. I have known--which of us in the course of years has not known?--such cases in our school experience. A child has come from a refined and loving home, but only to meet with roughness or coarseness; and instead of retaining those gifts and qualities of childhood, which are the godlike qualities of life and meant to be permanent, he has been led to grow up utterly unchildlike, depraved, debased, hardened; and there is no sadder sight to see than a growth of this kind. And if you have ever seen it; if you have ever noticed the falling away from childlike innocence to sin, from purity to coarseness, from the open, ingenuous, trusting spirit to sullen hardness, from happiness to gloom, you know how terribly in earnest the Saviour must have been when He denounced that woe on any one who causes such debasement of a young soul--"Whoso shall offend one of these little ones, it had been better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were drowned in the depth of the sea." III. THE BREVITY OF LIFE. "I must work the works of Him that sent Me, while it is day: the night cometh."--ST. JOHN ix. 4. There are few things more commonly disregarded by us in our early years than the brevity of our life through all its successive stages, and the fleeting nature of its opportunities. In childhood we are almost entirely unconscious of both these characteristics of life. Indeed, it would hardly be natural if it were otherwise. That reflective habit which dwells upon them is the result of our experience, and comes later. It is enough for a child if he follows pure and safe instincts, and lives without reflection a healthy, unperverted life, under wise guidance and good teaching. Growing in this way, free from corrupting influences or the contagion of bad example, and poisoned by no bad atmosphere, he develops naturally towards a manhood which is rooted in healthy tastes, affections unspoilt, and in good habits. Thus you see what the very young have a right to claim at the hands of all their elders--that they should be careful not to mislead them, and should see that they live in pure air, and feed their growing instincts and activities in wholesome pastures. During the stage of earliest growth it would be a sign of unhealthy precocity if a child were much occupied with the continuity of things, or the close union of to-day with to-morrow, or of all our thoughts, acts, pleasures, and tastes, with the bent of character which is being silently but surely formed in us; and it would be equally unnatural if his thoughts were to dwell much on the essential shortness of our life, and the flight of opportunity which does not come back to us. It is part of the happiness, or, I fear, it must be said sometimes, part of the pain of early life, that the time before it seems so long. The day is long with its crowded novelty or intense enjoyment, or possibly with its dreary and intolerable task-work; to-morrow, with all its anticipations of things desired or to be endured, seems long; and the vista of years, as they stretch through boyhood and youth, manhood and age, seems to lose itself in the far distance of its length. So, viewed from its beginnings, life is long. But with the approach of manhood all this begins to change. As we grow out of childhood our self-conscious and reflective life grows; and thus there rises in us the feeling of moral responsibility never to be shaken off again. Not, however, that we should leave all our childhood behind us. It hardly needs to be said that there are some characteristics of our earliest years which every man should pray that he may retain to the end. Unless he retains them his life becomes a deteriorating life. And first among these is the reverential or filial habit. This deserves our careful attention, because we sometimes see an affectation of silly and spurious manliness, which thinks it a fine thing to cast it off. This reverential or filial feeling, which is natural to the unspoilt and truthful nature of the child, is preserved in every unspoilt manhood; only with a difference. It is raised from the unreflective, instinctive trust in a father's guidance or a mother's love to that higher feeling which tells us that, as is the child in a well and wisely ordered home, so is each of us in that great household of our heavenly Father. This spirit of true piety, which uplifts, refines, strengthens, and gives courage to manhood, as nothing else can do, is the natural outcome and successor of a child's trustfulness, as we rise through it to the feeling that we are encompassed by a Divine consciousness, and that our life moves in a holy presence. Or again, we pray that we may not lose that simplicity and freshness of nature which is at once a special charm of childhood, and, wherever it is preserved, the chief blessing of a man's later years. These qualities and characteristics of our infancy--trust, filial reverence, freshness, simplicity--are not qualities to be left behind, but the natural forecast of that religious spirit which is the highest growth of maturity, and our own safeguard against the hardening and debasing influences of the world and the flesh. And this was the Saviour's meaning when He said, "Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in nowise enter therein." And if there is one thing more than another that constitutes the special curse of any depraved influence acting on young lives, it is that it robs the later life of these childlike qualities which are the gifts of God to bless us in youth and age. But assuming that we bear all this in mind, and hold fast to these fundamental gifts, and so escape those lower and baser forms of life which we meet all about in the world, spoiling the manhood and embittering the age of so many men, we cannot forget the essential difference between mature years and the years of early growth. As we grow towards manhood our life necessarily loses its childlike and unreflecting spontaneity in the ferment of thought, desire, and passion, and in the light of experience; and therefore it becomes a matter of no slight importance to estimate the value of that which we hold in our hands to-day, the nature of the web which our conduct is weaving, and the fateful character of any mistake in the purposes, notions, ambitions, or tastes that are, as a matter of fact, fixing the drift and direction of our life. But to do this amidst all the daily temptations of life is not always an easy matter; and it is certain that we shall not do it if we do not fully recognise, while our life is still young and unhampered, the importance of these two very obvious reflections, which, in fact, resolve themselves into one, that our time is essentially short, and that our opportunities are very fugitive. In one sense, no doubt, there is a long stretch of time before most of you. As yet hope has more to say to you than memory. Some of you will look back on these early days from the distant years of another century. Your life's journey may extend far away over the unexplored future, and may in some cases be a very long one; but, although this is possible, we are not allowed to forget that it is always precarious--unexpected graves are constantly reminding us how short may be the time of any one of us--how the night cometh. But it is not merely of the literal shortness of our time, or the possible nearness of death, that our Lord's words should set us thinking, when He warns us that the night cometh, and we must work while it is day. If we measure our life by the things we should accomplish in it, by the character it should attain to, by the purposes that should be bearing fruit in it, and not by mere lapse of time, we soon come to feel how very short it is, and the sense of present duty grows imperative. It is thus that the thoughtful man looks at his life; and he feels that there is no such thing as length of days which he can without blame live carelessly, because in these careless days critical opportunities will have slipped away irrecoverably; he will have drifted in his carelessness past some turning-point which he will not see again, and have missed the so-called chances that come no more. But even this is only a part of the considerations that make our present life so precious; for this is only the outer aspect of it. What makes our time so critically short, whether we consider its intellectual or its moral and spiritual uses, is that our nature is so very sensitive, so easily marred by misuse, and spoilt irretrievably. The real brevity of the time at your disposal, whether for the training of your mind, or for your growth into the character of good men, consists in this, that deterioration is standing always at the back of any neglect or waste. Deterioration is the inseparable shadow of every form of ignoble life. "Our acts our angels are, for good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk with us still." Leave your faculties unused and they become blunted and dulled; leave your higher tastes uncultivated and they die; let your affections feed on anything unworthy and they become debased. To those who do this it may happen that whilst, so far as years go, they are still in all the freshness of youth, they are already dying that death to all higher capacity which is worse than any decay of our physical organism. Such an early death of higher tastes and faculties, and of hope for the future, is sometimes effected even before schooldays are over. And the mere possibility of such a fate overhanging any of us should stir us like a trumpet-call to take care that we do not surrender our life to any mean influence, and that we are very zealous for all that concerns the safety of the young. "I send out my child," I can imagine the parent of any one of you having said, "to be trained for manhood; I send him to his school that his intellect may be cultivated, his moral purpose made strong, and that all good and pure tastes may be fostered in him; but it is dreadful to think that instead of this he may, by his life and companionship there, be hardened and debased, or even brutalised; he may become dead to the higher life even before he becomes a man." Seeing, then, that there is this possibility of death even in the midst of life--a possibility, we would fain hope, seldom realised in this school, but still a possibility--shall we not be very careful, men and boys alike, so to do our part in this society, so to shelter the young and strengthen the weak, and to keep the atmosphere of our life a pure atmosphere, that every sensitive soul which comes amongst us may grow up here through a healthy and wholesome boyhood, and go out to the duties and the calling of his life, strong, unselfish, public-spirited, pure-hearted, and courageous--a Christian gentleman. IV. THE INFLUENCE OF TRADITION. "Making the word of God of none effect through your traditions: and many such like things ye do."--ST. MARK vii. 13. Such was our Lord's word to the Pharisees; and if we turn to our own life it is difficult if not impossible for us fully to estimate the influence which traditions exercise upon it. They are so woven into the web of thought and opinion, and daily habits and practices, that none of us can claim to escape them. Moreover, as any institution or society grows older, this influence of the part which is handed on from one generation to another tends to accumulate; so that the weight of it lies heavier on us in an old place than in a new one, and it is obvious that there is both loss and gain in this. A good tradition is a great help and support, giving a strength, or firmness, or dignity to our life which it would not otherwise have had. We often see or feel the value of such a tradition as it acts upon the members of a family, or of a college, or of a regiment, or of a school. And this influence of a tradition, inasmuch as it has become impersonal, and rooted in the general life, is apt to be very persistent, so that the man who establishes a good tradition anywhere begins a good work, which may go on producing its good results long after he himself is in his grave. Many of you must have felt the power of such an influence, handed on to you as if it were a part of your inheritance, when thinking of a brother, or father, or other relative or ancestor, who by some distinction of character, or by some inspiring words or some brave or generous act, has left you a good example, which seems somehow to belong to you, and to stir you as with an authoritative call to show yourself worthy of it. Similarly in a society like this school you can hardly grow up without sometimes being stirred by the tradition of the noble lives that have left their mark upon its history. So a man's good deeds live after him, and become woven as threads of gold into the traditions of the world. And we are equally familiar with traditions that are bad, and with their pestilent influence; for we are constantly made to feel how much of the good that men endeavour to do is thwarted, counteracted, or destroyed by influences of this sort, and how weak and imitative souls are entangled in the network of traditional influence as in a spider's web. Tradition, in fact, represents to us the accumulated power of past lives as it acts upon us from the outside, just as what men call heredity represents this same influence in our own blood. And we have seen that this power may be, and often is, a real advantage and support to our life. We feel also that as the Divine light shines stronger and steadier in human affairs the traditional influence of each generation ought to become more and more helpful to those that follow. And yet, you observe, the Saviour gives us no encouragement to depend upon those helps that tradition might bring us. On the contrary, His language shows how dangerous He felt the influence of tradition to be. How are we to account for this? His strongest denunciations are reserved for the Pharisaic party; and yet a historian would describe them as in many respects the best elements of Jewish life. They were earnest, patriotic, religious, many of them wise and holy men; but their judgment was held in bondage by the influence of tradition, and in this lies the cardinal defect of their life. They had set up between their souls and the spirit of God a sort of graven image of ritualistic observances, and traditional usages and interpretations. They depended on externals, or what came to them from the past or from the outer world, and their eyes were blinded, and their hearts hardened against every new revelation. Thus they stand before Christ, blocking His path, the very embodiment of that power which closes the soul against those inspiring and purifying influences that come from direct communion with God. They block the Saviour's path, because this personal communion is just what He represents to us--the direct revelation of the Spirit of God in man. He comes to reveal the Father to each of us, and to make us feel the presence of the Divine creative Spirit in every separate human life; and till we feel this personal illumination we have not realised the manifestation of the Son of God. But the Pharisee with his continual reference to tradition, his multiplication of external observances, and elaborate ritual, his reliance upon usage and external authority, knows little or nothing of the personal illumination by the direct influence of the Spirit of God upon our spirit. Hence this absolute and fundamental contrast between Jesus and the Pharisees. They represent two opposing principles in life. And it is this that gives such intensity to the words He addressed to them: "Ye have made the word of God of none effect through your traditions"; and it is a universal warning--never out of date. If the spirit of traditional usage and influence holds the citadel of a man's life, the spirit of Christian progress cannot gain an entrance. That is the lesson which the Saviour presses upon our attention by His denunciation of the Pharisaic usage, habit, and attitude, and it is hardly possible to overestimate the importance of the lesson, because this same spirit of Pharisaic tradition is constantly laying its hand upon every human institution, and it has contributed to every abuse or perversion that has taken possession of the Christian Church. Our life is, in fact, a continuous struggle between the two principles here represented. Which is to prevail in it, and fix its character-- traditional custom, or personal inspiration? Are we to follow the world with its conventions and laws, or to live in personal communion with God? The tendency of our life will be determined in one direction or the other according as we surrender our will to the rule of traditional notions and usages, the power of the external world, or as we seek for direct illumination of mind, conscience, and spirit at the Divine sources of truth and light. Here, then, we have a principle to guide us in our relation to the traditions amidst which we live. We do not expect to get away from them; we never dream of escaping from the influences of the external world, whether of the past or the present; but to move safely among them, we must have learnt and adopted this primal lesson, that no tradition, and no external practice or custom, has any authoritative claim upon us, simply from being established as a tradition or a custom. And as we stand amidst all the conventions and practices that have come down to us, we should be able to say of every one of them-- "Every good tradition, and every wholesome and beneficent usage, I accept thankfully as part of the inheritance which good, or wise, or brave men have left as their legacy for my use and assistance; but it is my bounden duty to measure them all by the standard of God's unchanging law: by it I will prove them; I will use them or reject them according as they fit or fail in this measurement, and I will not be brought under the power of any of them." Whether, then, we think of our separate personal life or of our life in its social relationships, we must think of it in this way if we are to be in any real sense followers of Christ. Each of you, as he steps into the world, is not merely an inheritor of certain accumulations of life and tradition, which he should follow as a matter of course. He is not born to tread a certain track of conduct or behaviour because others have trodden it before him, following it without thought like the sheep on the mountain, or like the ants as they travel from one ant-hill to another. Your estimate of your life should be fundamentally different from this. You are primarily a child of God, illumined by direct communion with the Spirit of God; and your first duty, therefore, whenever and in whatever place or circumstances you may chance to be, is not to follow this or that tradition or usage which may meet you; but to stand up and show that you are God's child, and therefore a judge of all traditions or customs, and not their slave. This is the revelation which Christ declares to us as the one first requisite of the Christian life. So you see the Christian man's attitude towards all traditions or customs is that of independence; his thought and his judgment are as free in regard to them as if they were newly born. He is, in fact, bound to judge them according to their deserts; and no society can hope to prosper unless this is recognised, so that evil customs may not corrupt the common life. It is the danger of such corruption that makes the Saviour denounce the traditional habit, and summon His followers to live by the rule of close personal communion with God. Thus the life that goes forward and rises to higher and yet higher levels is always a life of new revelations, a life which is being illumined and illumined afresh by those flashes of Divine insight, and strength, and courage, which come to men only as they came to the Lord Himself in the secret communion of prayer and meditation, and through that independence of spirit which arises from the sense of God's presence to guide us and to uphold. Take your own case. If you are living here simply according to traditional rules, doing this or that because, as you may be told, everybody does it; accepting standards of conduct and rules of practice, because, as you understand, or, as some one undertakes to persuade you, they have always been so accepted, why, then, you are growing up to be one of that never-ending succession of men who are the Pharisees, the opponents of the Christ, in every generation, who live with tame conscience in any sort of company, and perpetuate the bad traditions of the world. But if you listen to the call of Christ, and have truly learned to feel that the only real man's life is that which you live with the light of God's law shining upon it, then, as a matter of course, you will rise superior to the influence of any tradition or custom, no matter what its authority may seem to be. And it will indeed be a happy thing for you if you grow up with that God- given strength of character and purpose which can treat all traditions, and all usages, or fashions, or customs as things that should be subordinated, and should not rule us, as things to be used by us if they help us to a better life, but to be flung aside and rejected, if they contradict the voice of God in our hearts. V. VAIN HOPES. "And he said, Nay, father Abraham: but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent. But he said, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead."--ST. LUKE xvi. 30, 31. It is by no means uncommon for any one who is living a life which does not satisfy his own conscience to console himself with the fancy that if only such and such things were different around him he would be a new man, filled with a new spirit, and exhibiting a new character. But is it so very certain that this would be the case? Such persons are apt to dream of some goodness or some virtue which under other circumstances they would make their own; and there are, in fact, few conditions more dangerous than that of this class of dreamers, whether among boys or men. To all who may be tempted in this way, our Lord's words in the parable come with a very significant warning: "Nay, father Abraham: but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent. But he said, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead." When insidious and delusive hope would draw us on and beguile us in any sinful way, whispering that God will some day send special gifts and messengers of grace to inspire us with new life, this is his plain answer: "If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead." And hardly any one can say that he is altogether free from this tendency to lean upon the future with vain hopes, and is in no need of the warning which this text conveys to us. In serious moments, when the mind is calm, and neither passion nor appetite is stirring, we feel how good a thing it is to have crucified the flesh and to be living close to Christ; but when we are within the fiery circle of trial or temptation, when sinful desires arise, or passions are strong, or solicitations to evil are subtle and enticing, then we are only too ready to catch at any hopes about the vague future. To the unstable and incontinent, to those whose nature is weak while their conscience is not dead, this hope is a dangerous temptation, beguiling them with the suggestion that some day there will open before them an easy path to that virtue or self-denial to which the way is too rough at present. "Nay, father Abraham: but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent." By-and-by, they say, as they dream about the future, God will lay His hand upon them; the Holy Spirit will touch their souls with new life; they will receive in some inscrutable way new power, and in the exercise of this power they will cast off the bondage of sin or weakness; but how and by what means this great and necessary change is to be brought about they do not stop to think, and meanwhile they yield to worldly or fleshly appetite, trusting vaguely to an uncertain future for some Divine gift. If you look into the thoughts and habits of your life, some of you may be compelled to acknowledge that this case is not unfamiliar to you. So men sometimes dally with a temptation, and linger beside it, courting its company, instead of flinging it away from them, as the snare of the devil, because of some secret hope that by-and-by God will place them out of the way of it, or give them some new strength against it, which as yet has not been given. How easy it is for us to entice ourselves in this way out of the narrow path of present duty into the tangled wilderness of a weak and sinful life, from which escape becomes every day more difficult. And this enticement along the ways of sin being so easy, it may be happening to some of you. You may feel that, judged even by your own standard, which is more likely to be too low than too high, your life is somehow unsatisfactory; your better instincts may be telling you that you were born for something higher, purer, stronger than what you are or have been; and you are cherishing the hope that it will be different with you some day; your circumstances, you think, or your occupation, or your companionship will have changed, and so you fondly imagine that you yourself will be sure to change, as if your soul were just a weathercock that answers to every changing breeze. So perhaps you hope that some habit of self-indulgence or idleness will drop off, or some evil temper be eradicated; and whilst all this vague and mischievous dreaming goes on you yield very likely to some besetting sin, making no serious effort to get away from it now, and you yield all the more because of this misleading hope that some day you will be touched by a supernatural hand, and will rise up to a regenerate life. And yet our reason tells us that all this is the very essence of self-deceit, and that such dreams and hopes are the devil's most subtle temptation. This kind of vain hope is based on a complete misconception of the nature of our conflict with sin, and the way to escape from it. To think thus of spiritual gifts and the growth of the spiritual life, is to follow a very dangerous delusion. It was just such a misunderstanding that is expressed in the hope of Dives about his brethren: "If one went unto them from the dead, they will repent." Their ordinary daily teachings, he seems to say, the voice of Moses and of the prophets, the examples of good men around them, the warnings, the exhortations, these, being so familiar, may not have startled them out of their sin; but if only one were to go to them from the dead, some messenger of strange voice and aspect, who had seen hell, and could paint its horrors, then surely the course of their life would be checked and changed, and their spirit would wake up in them, and they would sin no more. But to all this comes back the stern warning of the Divine answer: "If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead." And we may profitably consider what this means in its application to our own life. Such a warning is evidently meant to remind us that the mystery of sin in human life is not to be got rid of by any such reliance on vague hopes. This mystery of sin in the heart and life, misleading, weakening, dragging us down, means in fact the subtle, poisonous, creeping power which evil inclinations exercise over a weak and depraved will. Are we, then, to trust to some sudden visitation from above, for which we make no preparation, to break down or overthrow a power of this kind? On the contrary, the words of this parable stand here to declare to us that it is nothing less than perversity and folly in any man to go on either defiling his nature, or degrading it, or even neglecting to strengthen and support it, under this delusion that some day the breath of Heaven will sweep it clean or give it new vigour. And your own experience is in exact accordance with these parabolic warnings of the Saviour. You know that your moral and spiritual nature is now at this present time undergoing a process of continual and momentous change, that every day, or week, or month leaves its mark upon it; and that your soul's life means not waiting for some angel of God's providential grace to visit you and carry you up into a new air; but it means that you are weaving the web of your unchangeable destiny by your use or abuse of the gifts of God that are in your hands to-day. Born into the world with the taint of inherited corruption in us, as also with the germs of pure affection and high instinct and purpose, we have to take care for ourselves and for each other that the taint does not eat out the good, by growing into sins of boyhood or of youth, or by hardening into depraved habits in our manhood. If we let our youth take an unhappy downward course, whether in taste or habit, every day puts salvation farther off from us, because every day any fault which is indulged or nursed tends to grow deeper and more inveterate; and yet, forgetting this, how many, while their early years are running to waste, nurse the vain hope that some day they will receive the sudden baptism of a new birth. So, then, instead of vaguely trusting, any of us, to the hope of what some future call or help or happy visitation may do for us, let us obey the Divine injunction, which, when rightly understood, is very pressing, urging us, as we hope to see good days, to be very jealous of our present life and its tendencies; let us do this, standing always firm and immovable in the things that are pure and of good report. However it may be in some other matters, in this matter of our moral and spiritual life, the greatest, the most important, the most serious thing of all, it is almost invariably true that the child is father of the man, and we feel that we have no right to expect it to be otherwise. In our everyday consideration of life, we recognise all this: we speak of growth in character and formation of habit as facts which no one would ignore, and which cannot be overestimated. But to acknowledge these, and at the same time to trust that God will hereafter arrest any stream of sinful tendency in us which we ourselves do not attempt to stop now, is to add presumption to sin. When we speak of Heaven and Hell, we have in our thoughts the vision of those ultimate points towards which the diverging courses of men's lives are slowly tending day by day. And the question rises: "On which of these lines is my life travelling at the present time, and towards which side of the impassable gulf?" At present we know that the way of Christ is still open before us, and that He calls us with a voice which never grows weary; but we feel equally that the future is dark, if we waste or misuse the present, and we do not know how long the heavenward path may be as open, or as easy, as it is to-day. For the question is not a question of God's untiring patience or the never-failing love of Christ. It is not how long will His Spirit continue to strive with us, as it has striven hitherto, through the care and love of parent or friend, through the exhortations or efforts of a teacher, or the example of a companion, or in a thousand other ways. The question is rather whether it is not folly to expect that God will send upon us some other more powerful regenerating and strengthening influence, if we are now neglecting all this care and love and patient striving on our behalf. "If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead." Consider these things while life is fresh, and good influences are present with you. Whatever our faults may be, they all come under this one rule, that to-day is given us to win our freedom from their power--to- day and not to-morrow. The question which is pressed home through the warning of this parable is thus a very plain one: "What is my future hope or prospect, if I let this or that particular sin lurk and linger in my heart, feeding upon me every day, and growing stronger in consequence? What if I do not resist any fault that has a hold upon me? What if I do not pray to be delivered from it? What if I do not flee from it?" If you hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will you be persuaded, though one rose from the dead. VI. WHAT DOEST THOU HERE? "And, behold, the word of the Lord came unto him, and he said unto him, What doest thou here, Elijah?"--1 KINGS xix. 9. There is a sound of rebuke in these words. They seem to imply that the lonely mountain of Horeb was not the place in which God expected to find such a servant as Elijah, and that there should be no indefinite tarrying, no lingering without an aim in such a solitude. As you read the familiar history you see how the record of the prophet's retirement and his vision in Horeb is a record, first of all, of reaction after fierce conflict; it exhibits the picture of a strong man in a moment of weakness ready to give up the hopeless struggle, crying to God, "It is enough, now, O Lord, take away my life;" and then it shows us how God dealt with him in that solitude; we hear the Divine voice pleading in him again, bearing its Divine witness, putting its searching questions, teaching him the universal lesson that despondency, weakness, solitude, shrinking and retiring, if they have any place in our life, are only for a time, and must not be allowed to rule in it. That Divine vision which came to Elijah in the recesses of the mountain is, in fact, the voice of God summoning him back to the duties that were waiting for him, and the renewal of his strength for the new work he had to do. And the interest of such a vision never fails, because, like Elijah, all men come to times when they too lie under the juniper tree in the wilderness longing to be set free from the burden which is too heavy for them, be it the burden of some call, or work, or duty, or of resistance to some temptation, or the struggle against sin or vice. It comes to all of us, and not once only, but many times over, this hour of darkness; and it will continue to come so long as the flesh is weak. And it is at such moments that a man is the better for going with the prophet into this Horeb, the mount of God, making Elijah's vision his own vision, and renewing his strength, at the same Divine source. How often it happens to men, to boys, to all alike, that they flee into the desert, away from the post of present duty, away from the face of difficulties which they cannot or will not stand up against, away from the moments of trial and discipline. And, seeing that our life is not and cannot be a solitary thing, seeing that the pulsations of each individual's life are creating other pulsations which answer them back in other lives, we know not where or how many, whenever we thus shrink away from our duty, when we turn our back upon it, or despond about it, when we become deaf to the higher calls, we are, in fact, crying to God to be relieved of our service to Him and to our fellows. And it is a happy thing for our life if He does not answer us according to our cry, and let us go into the wilderness, and leave us alone there. This voice, following us with the question, "What doest them here?" is the evidence that God has not abandoned us. "What doest thou here, Elijah?" How often must this voice have followed the monk into his solitude, refusing to be silenced, piercing through all the false notions about a man's relationship to his fellow-men, warning each soul that it cannot separate itself from the great tide of universal life. And the voice comes to us, the same warning voice of God, whenever we stand aloof and let the tide around us run on anyhow, as if we didn't care how it ran, or whenever in obedience to any impulse, whether of selfishness or of timidity, we try to persuade ourselves that some duty may be left alone. "What doest thou here, Elijah?" The quality of our life depends on the answer we give to such spiritual questioning day by day; for the Divine voices are never silent. "What doest thou here?" The voice cries to us when we linger in the neighbourhood of any sin, or when we waste our opportunities in some form of idleness, or when we stand by in cold or timid indifference, refusing help or consolation to any soul which seems to need it. "What doest thou here?" It is possible that some of us hardly like to shape our answer in plain words lest we might have to say: "I am here lingering in my present way of life, not because I feel it to be the right way, but because it is the easy way, and I cannot bring myself to face the harder and more manly course of duty. I hear the voice; I cannot get away from it; it haunts me with its inquiries, when my heart is hot within me, as it is sometimes, while yet I am burying the light that is in my soul." If it should be so with any of you, consider, I pray you, how by such hanging back you strengthen the force of evil in the world and weaken the good. As the hour of reaction, weakness, flight, came to Elijah, so we must expect it to come to any of us; but the aim and purpose of our life should be that in such an hour we may be able to answer our Heavenly Father when He questions us, as Elijah was able to answer: "I have been very jealous for the Lord God of Hosts." If we live as those who are jealous for God and His law, letting it be known and felt that we are thus jealous for His honour, not one of us could fail to make the life around us in some degree better, brighter, happier. It is in this way that he who is strong and true makes truth and honour and uprightness stronger in those beside him; it is in this way that he who is industrious, as a duty, makes industry more prevalent; it is in this way that he who shows his hatred of impurity makes the atmosphere pure in his society. And in so far as any of you are acting in this way you are doing a prophet's work, and you, too, may claim to have been jealous for the Lord God of Hosts. So the youngest boy and the oldest man may become fellow- labourers--[Greek text]--fellow-labourers in the harvest-field of God, and it is a great privilege to claim. But the blessing of it is greater still. Very often, if you are known to be thus jealous, even your presence will banish sin, silencing the evil tongue, strengthening the weaker brother, and making the sunshine of a new life to shine all round you. But what if sometimes you feel that you are not equal to all this? if when the voice cries, "What doest thou here?" you have no answer to give? It is good for us in such a case to turn and see how God dealt with His prophet, how He made him come forth and stand on the mount before him. The Lord passed over him, revealing His presence in the wind, the earthquake, and the fire, revealing it yet more intimately in the sound of the still small voice. So He sent Him out again with a new commission; and so we, too, may learn our lesson, if we care to learn it. And the lesson is this, that God renews our wavering strength, that He lifts up our drooping spirit, and opens our dull eyes and gives us afresh the hearing ear, by communion with Himself. In the solitude of the mount of God, through the symbols of His power, and in the sound of the inner voices, in meditation, in prayer, we may find those refreshing influences which give us new strength, new thoughts, new notions of God and duty, and send us out afresh to do His work in new service to Him. We may follow His teaching to Elijah a little further. The new message to him began, "Return on thy way"--do such and such things. The new message is, in fact, just as always, a new call to old duties--"Return on thy way." And so it is for you and me. After the vision of God comes the plain and homely work to do, as we walk in old ways, and have to meet all our old dangers and difficulties. Has any one of us ever shrunk from any post of duty in life, or strayed from any straight course? Then if God has in His mercy visited us with the warning call, "What doest thou here?" or laid the call of a new message upon us, it is almost sure to have been a call to return and take the straight path, or to take our stand at the deserted post. And if it should ever happen to us that the duty which looks too hard is, as indeed it happens very often, some duty of our social life, should we feel as if the world were against us, and we were standing alone, let us not forget God's word of final encouragement to his prophet, "Yet have I left me seven thousand in Israel who have not bowed to Baal." It is a word for all time. If ever you are fighting for the good, and growing weary in the fight, the thought may rise in you that you seem to be fighting alone, and that everything is against you, just because you cannot see the seven thousand who are in the same ranks, and on your side. In the darkest hour of Israel's history we are thus told of an indefinite multitude who had stood firm in the faith of their fathers, untouched and untainted by adverse influence, and the recollection of it should serve to strengthen and encourage every individual who is really jealous for that which is good. Let us, then, take the warning, and nurse it as a gift of God, and go forward where duty calls us, sometimes faint, it may be, and sometimes weary, but still pursuing. VII. PRIVATE PRAYER, AND PUBLIC WORSHIP. "And, as His custom was, He went into the synagogue on the Sabbath day."--ST. LUKE iv. 16. "He went out, and departed into a solitary place, and there He prayed."--ST. MARK i. 35. These two texts set before us our Saviour's habit in regard to public and private spiritual exercise; and they suggest to us the question, What have we, on our part, to say of these two elements in our own life? These texts, we bear in mind, represent not something casual or intermittent in the life of our Lord. They stand in the record of it as a typical, essential, inseparable part of His habitual practice. What we have to remember about them is that, whereas all men recognise in the life of Jesus the one unique example in human history of a life which is morally perfect and immaculate, if we were to take these out of it, the customary share in all common worship, and the private, separate communing with God, it would be an altogether different life--different in its attitude towards the common life of ordinary men, and different in its own quality and influence. We might still admire--nay, we could not but admire--all the beauty of moral qualities, the purity, the sympathy, the love and self-devotion of it; but it would have lost its spiritual atmosphere. It would no longer be for us the life of the Divine Son, recognising and ready to share in all our attempts at worshipping the Father, however poor they may be, and living through the separate life in daily communion with Him. Here then is His practice, written for our guidance, given that we may be stirred by it to aim upwards, inviting us to set our own practice side by side with it, and see how it looks in such a juxtaposition. Let us glance for a moment at each of these texts separately. As regards the one which I have taken from St. Mark--"He went out, and departed into a solitary place, and there He prayed"--we have only to turn over the pages of this Gospel and note, as we go, the similar allusions, and we feel that we have here what is in fact an incidental glimpse into the habitual practice of His secret and separate life. In this passage we read that He departed into a solitary place, and there He prayed; in another by-and-by that He departed into a mountain to pray; and then again that He spent the whole night in prayer; and we see all this not in some crisis of His life, but as a part of that which corresponds to the common daily round in your life or mine. And the inference to be drawn, the lesson to be learnt from it, is, I think, sufficiently obvious. This secret separate devotional exercise of the soul was His habitual spiritual food. It was thus that He recruited His moral and spiritual forces, those forces of the spiritual life which constitute at once the beauty, the attraction, the power of His character, and His divine and awe-inspiring separateness. And as we read and consider, the thought must surely be pressed upon us that if He needed these exercises, these secret and silent hours, what shall we say of our own lives? And what do we expect to make of our moral and spiritual character unless we too are careful to cherish under all circumstances some such recurring moments in our round of life and occupation, at which we retire into the sanctuary of separate communion with God the Father? You may take it as a moral certainty, proved by all experience, that unless you hold to a fixed habit of thus bringing your life into the secret and separate presence of God, in private prayer and thought, you incur the risk of sinking to any levels that happen to be the ordinary levels, and of drifting with any currents that happen to prevail. If we turn now from this to the other text--that which refers to His customary attendance on public prayer and at the common meeting--"He went, as His custom was, into the synagogue"--the questions suggested are very pertinent and practical. Just consider the circumstances under which, as we are told here, "He went, as His custom was, into the synagogue on the Sabbath day." The earlier part of the same chapter tells us of His fasting and temptation in the wilderness, of the commencement of His public mission, and his return to Nazareth. And, on His return, this is what we are told of him--"He went, as his custom was, into the synagogue on the Sabbath day." Thus we see Him, fresh from the great crisis of His early manhood; the long, protracted struggle of His soul in the lonely wilderness; the subtle voices of manifold temptation; the hardly won victory and the ministering angels; all this we must suppose to be still flashing across His vision, as the scenes of any such crisis must always continue to flash through the quivering and responsive organism of the soul. If ever any man might have claimed to need no longer the customary worship of common men, it was surely Jesus, as we see Him here on this occasion, with the breath of His own heart-searching worship still upon Him, and the light of new revelation burning in His thoughts. Among all the significant and instructive parts of the Saviour's example this is not the least instructive; that on this occasion, as on all others, he went as a matter of regular custom into the synagogue on the Sabbath day, thus putting the seal and stamp of His own practice for all of us who believe in His name upon the duty of joining in habitual and stated spiritual exercises. Had the Lord's example been different in this respect, how easy it would have seemed to set up a string of what we should have called sufficient reasons. The old-fashioned routine, it might have been said, of synagogue worship, with its mechanical dulness and its mistaken interpretations of God's word, its shallow and superficial and tedious traditional commentaries, its formalism and vain repetitions; all this, whatever might have been its value for the ordinary unenlightened Jew, how could it have been necessary and what profit could there have been in it for the divinely gifted Son of man? So it might have been argued; so indeed it would seem men who consider themselves enlightened sometimes argue in support of their own neglect of the religious life. But it may well make us more than doubtful as to the issue of any such neglect, when we see the mind of Christ thus exemplified in His habitual observance. We all recognise His moral and spiritual superiority. Whether His spirit has taken possession of our spirit or not, He stands out as our undisputed guide to the practice of a good life. In vision, in insight, in purity, in stainlessness, in all that we reverence in human life and that good men strive to attain, we have no model to set beside His example. All the more, then, this fact deserves our notice, and calls us to follow Him, that we find Him, as His custom was, in the synagogue on the Sabbath day. He was there Sabbath after Sabbath listening to the provincial teacher, worshipping with the village labourer, praying with the ignorant and the foolish, there as a matter of life custom and for His soul's benefit. I have said that it deserves our notice; but more than this--it should be graven on the minds of the young, so that they may never lose the impression of it, so that it go with them through all their years of manhood, to preserve in them the devotional and reverent habit. It is indeed good for all of us to think of Him there in that primitive and unattractive house of God, listening to the rude Galilean accents, and bowing His head in the habitual worship of that obscure community. I do not think it is possible for us, unless we are quite indifferent about our moral and spiritual condition--unless, that is, we have low notions about our life, a low aim and a low standard--to be unaffected in our practice by this example of the Lord. We can hardly believe that those exercises of the spirit which were so fruitful in His life will fail to bear their fruit in ours also. What have we to say as we picture Him with all the great thoughts of His new work swelling up in His soul, the divinely appointed teacher of new wisdom and new faith, the bringer of new light among men, the voice of a new world, and yet, being all this, at the same time, and as a means for working out His mission more completely, a regular and devout worshipper in a village house of prayer? If it should ever happen to any of us that we come to fancy we do not need such common prayer, or that because of defects in public worship we do not profit by it, does not this example of the Saviour rise up and rebuke us? Yes, you may rest assured, if that day ever comes to you, that you are in danger of drifting away from the great saving tides of the human spirit into some shallow or artificial stream of your own time and generation. But, on the other hand, it is a happy thing for our life if, growing up in the habitual use of time-honoured spiritual exercises, we have truly learnt to know by our own experience, as by the example of the Saviour set before us in the Gospel, that they are the support and safeguard of all that is highest and purest and best in us, if only we are careful to use them with sincerity and reverence. VIII. AN UNANSWERABLE QUESTION. "Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? Not one."--JOB xiv. 4. This is one of those simple questions which, by their very simplicity and directness, set us thinking about the importance of our personal life. "Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean?" But all our common life is somehow the outcome of our separate individual lives--of your life and mine. Therefore how important it is in the common interest that each of us should look above all things to his own life and its character, for this will determine his contribution to the life of his society. Nearly all men are keen about the reputation of their society, about the name it bears, about the way in which men think and speak of it. Thus you are no doubt sensitive, almost every one of you, about the good reputation of your school or your house, or any society with which you may happen to be closely connected or identified. And this is a healthy and praiseworthy feeling. It would indeed be a bad sign if such a feeling were wanting or weak in any society. But I am not sure that we keep it before us--all of us--as clearly as we ought to do, that this reputation of the society is simply the outcome of our separate lives and habits. The reputation is the reflex of the life; hardly ever, perhaps, an exact reflex, very often a distorted reflex with this or that feature exaggerated; but yet always a reflex. The reputation you bear is the impression made by your common life on the minds of those who see it from the outside, or who hear men's talk about it. And we do well to be sensitive on such a subject; but we do still better if we bear in mind that this common life is what comes out of our own life, and is the result of its contact with that of our neighbour. And with this thought in our minds we feel how searching and how directly personal is this primitive and childlike question, Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? Societies, especially young societies, are very impressible, and their character--the quality, that is, of their life--is fixed by prevailing influences, which show themselves in fashions, habits, and tendencies, in the common types of thought, or taste, or behaviour, or conduct. This is obvious enough to every one; but what we do not seem always to consider is the extent to which these influences or fashions have their origin, so far as our own society is concerned, in our own lives. They are, in fact, in the main the general outcome of our separate lives. Do you, then, think of yourselves--this is the practical question to which these considerations lead up--as sources or centres of such influence, contributing your personal share to this common life? It may make an immense difference to all your thoughts about your common habits, and your standards of daily conduct and duty, if you remember this ancient saying, that no man can bring a clean thing out of an unclean. And so I have to ask you to consider a little how the common life of this society is dependent upon your life. Every individual acts upon the life of the community around him as a power or influence in it. This seems so obvious when mentioned as hardly to deserve the mentioning, and yet in practice we are very apt to overlook it. You and I, all of us, without any exception, are endowed with some share of this power. In this respect, as in other ways, there is, of course, every possible difference in degree between one and another, between the strong and the weak, between those who are conspicuous and those who are obscure; but there is no other difference. Every one of you possesses some share of this mysterious, and undefined, and immeasurable gift of influencing his neighbour's life. Every sin that may have a root in your heart is acting, though you may not think of it or intend it, as a pestilent influence outside your own life; every virtue you exercise may be causing similar virtues to take root and grow in some one near to you. The tone of the society or life around you is, in fact, just the sum and expression of such individual influences as these. We may not be able to trace all the various and multitudinous germs or seeds of such influence as they flow out from us in our daily round of common life; but we are conscious that each and every single soul, all through its earthly course, in the family and in the outer world, from youth to age, is, in fact, a sower scattering these germs of good or evil unceasingly. We know, also, that when they are once scattered they cannot be gathered up again. They are yours to scatter--these seeds that you are adding to the common life--and you are responsible for the fruit they bear; but having sown them, you are powerless afterwards to prevent them from bearing fruit after their kind in other lives. Once launched in the air around you, they spread their contagion of evil or their stimulus to good, their savour of life or death. The mere suspicion of this undefined power over other lives which is inherent in our own life should surely make us very careful about it. It gives a new sense of personal responsibility; it lays its hand upon us to check us in any vice, or folly, or sin; and it is a stimulus to every virtue and to all good purposes. But the thing which of all others it is perhaps of most importance for us to remember about it is that this stream of our personal influence which flows out of our life is a double stream. It is of two kinds. One part of it flows unconsciously, whether we think of it or not; it streams out from our personality as sunlight from the sun. The other is that which we exercise by some conscious effort of the will, and with some deliberate purpose or intention. Now, in the case of most of us, this tide of unconscious influence flowing from us without any deliberate or set purpose on our part, our involuntary contribution to the common life, is far more powerful for good or for evil than anything which we ever do by way of active purpose to influence another's life, and this because our unconscious influence is the reflex on the outer world of what we are in ourselves; it is the projection, or shall we say the radiation, of our own life, its tastes, tempers, habits, and character, upon the lives around us. What we do or intend to do, what influence we endeavour to exercise, is very likely to be at the best intermittent, but this door of involuntary communication between every man's life and his neighbour's life is always standing open; and so it comes about that your life, whether public or private, is of more importance to others than anything else about you. At a time when so many things contribute to fix men's thoughts on externals, and we are all tempted to think more about our work than about our life, more about what we are doing or intending to do, than of what we are in ourselves, these considerations assume an unusual importance. Moreover, in a society like this, where you live so close to one another, and so much in public, there is a special reason for giving to such considerations some special attention; and the thought suggested by this world-old inquiry--Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean?--becomes a very direct warning to look well to our separate life, and take care what sort of unconscious influences it is spreading around it. A moment's reflection will remind you how quick and strong such influences may easily prove, independent of all intention or desire on our part, or even in spite of our deliberate wishes or hopes. One man is careless or irreligious, and his weaker neighbours catch the infection of his example; another indulges in some bad habits of language or conduct, or he is addicted to some low taste, or he lives by some low standard, and this or that companion is drawn down to his level; and so the evil of his life takes fresh root in another life, and it gets into the air, and it is impossible to predict the limit of its influence. Or, on the other hand, one man is intellectual or refined in his tastes, and by merely living in a society he creates an atmosphere of intellect or of refinement around him; or, it may be, he is earnest and courageous, and others are drawn to admire and imitate, and so he proves a centre of courage and earnestness. Such is the solidarity of your life, as men call it, and there is no escape from it, or from the responsibilities which it lays upon you. As the tree is known by its fruits, as men do not gather grapes of thorns, as the same fountain does not send forth sweet water and bitter, so we have to remember, when we think of the tides of unconscious influence that are continually streaming out from us, that they are wholesome, or the reverse, according to the character of our secret and separate life. Through them any one of us may become to his neighbour or his friend a savour of life unto life, or of death unto death. There are sure to be many in such a congregation as this who have visions of the good they hope to do; and there is a spirit of native generosity in almost all which makes them shrink from the thought of doing harm to another soul. Well, then, in this thought of your influence, conscious and unconscious, your first and constant prayer will surely be: "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." The effective servant of God is always the man who has been prepared and purified by the vision of God in his own soul. If, then, we desire to contribute some good to our society and no evil, we must take care to keep our hearts open to the cleansing influences of the spirit of holiness, so that no habit of sin shall cast its dark shadow around us, or vitiate that atmosphere which is inseparable from our personal life. IX. SOWING BESIDE ALL WATERS. "Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters."--ISAIAH xxxii. 20. These words form part of a great prophetic vision. The prophet is standing among his countrymen like a watchman on the walls of Jerusalem. And far away, as he looks, the distant horizon of his stormy sky is bright with Messianic hopes, but around him the shadows lie dark and heavy. It was his destiny to speak to a people whose ears were dull of hearing and their hearts without understanding; but he never lost the conviction that the holy seed of God's spirit was alive in them. Amidst all present discouragement he lived in the hope of a brighter and better day, when the eyes of those around him would be opened, and their hearts changed, and a new spirit would take hold of them, and righteousness, peace, prosperity, and gladness would prevail. And no man's life is worth much which is not inspired by some such hope. What Isaiah saw immediately around him was sin and moral blindness. What he saw immediately in front of him was the consequence of these in woe and desolation. "Year upon year," he cries, "shall ye be troubled, ye careless ones: thorns and briers shall come upon the land of my people: until the spirit be poured upon us from on high, and the wilderness shall become a planted field." But in the day of that outpouring, the heart of the people would turn and be uplifted, renewed, and purified, the wilderness would become a planted field. And this thought brings him to the final outburst of the text I have just read to you, which is a blessing on those true Israelites who realised the high calling of God's people, and were inspired to fulfil it, sowing everywhere and always the seeds of Divine influence. The whole vision is highly instructive, for it is the vision of what occurs again and again in all human history; but it is of this blessing with which it closes that I desire to say a word or two to-day. Amidst all the threatening and discouraging symptoms of the national life, Isaiah turned to the bright vision of those servants of God whose faith should never fail, and in whom there should be no variableness, and no wavering. "Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters." Sow your seed of good influence, he seems to say to them, in good times, in bad times; sow it in this place, and in every place, sow it in the wastes of the moral wilderness, sow it in the face of every enemy, sow it in faith and hope and without fear. It is on them he depends to prepare for that happier season when the wilderness of the spiritual life around him should become as a planted field; and with prophetic insight he perceives that it is on such as these that the Divine blessing always rests. "Blessed are they that sow beside all waters." It is a text to be taken with us whenever any change comes over the circumstances of our life. If we are changing from a life of rule or discipline to a life of free choice, from school to home, from boyhood to manhood, this blessing declares that there should be no change in the attitude and purpose and aim of life. It is another way of saying that the laws which should guide our conduct, and the principles which should inspire and direct us, are of universal application; that they know no difference of time or place, and that if they bind you here they should bind you everywhere. And simple and obvious as this may seem, it is not altogether an easy truth to carry into practice. "Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters." Your seed field is not here or there only; it lies on every side of you, and in all places; it spreads into the future farther than your eye can travel, and it will extend itself before you as you go; and the reality and vigour of good purpose in you will be determined by your recognition of this truth. Let us consider it with reference to our own case at such a time as this. There are always growing up here in every generation those who feel a pride in their school, and in the spirit of it, who strive honestly and earnestly to sow in their society the seeds of manliness, and truthfulness, and good tone, and purity. It would soon go very ill with this or any other society if it were not so. And those who grow up in this way are continually leaving us in their turn, and they will remember with affection the place of their high purposes and earnest and manly efforts. They go out into a new world, and travel along other streams; and blessed are they, if they continue faithful, sowing still beside all waters. But every change brings with it some element of risk. There is nearly always something of surprise to us in the new forces that confront us in any society which we enter as strangers; and the first feeling that rises is sometimes a feeling of our own weakness or insignificance. In such a case it is well if we have realised beforehand that our laws of conduct should not vary, and that the call of God, which we have recognised once, is a call which never ceases, and which no circumstances should make inaudible. When we approach any change we all need this kind of warning; because there are so many things in our life which we are apt to allow our circumstances to regulate for us. Experience tells us only too plainly how much we depend upon the influences that are around us, and how often we fail to carry with us the strength we have gained in one field when we pass over to the next. With the holy we learn in some degree to be ourselves holy; with a perfect man we too are able to walk perfectly; but on the other hand, in our imitative way, as the scene changes, we sometimes find ourselves learning frowardness with the froward, practising indifference with the indifferent, if not actually slipping with the vicious into some vicious way. There is always some risk of such changes; and it is always well for us to be taking care that our better life has its root in our own heart and spirit, and that we do not wear it as a garment suited to the society in which we happen to be, and change it for the worse, if there comes any corresponding change in outward influences. Hence it is that at these times, when we are about to separate, these words of Isaiah come to us with a very appropriate reminder: "Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters." To those who are leaving our society to begin a new life elsewhere, as to those of us who go in the hope of returning by-and-by, they are charged with the same lesson. They bid us all alike take care and see that what is good in our present life has become our own personal and permanent possession, independent of surroundings; that it has sunk in some degree into the fibre of our character; that it is settled in us by conviction and principle, to guide and direct us everywhere, and is not merely a circumstantial garment, a sort of livery of this or that particular place, which will slip off us as we leave it. Many of you have learnt, I feel sure of it, to feel during these your school days, the satisfaction of living here a true and worthy life; you have tasted of that pleasure which the careless, the indifferent, and the sinful hardly taste at all, the pleasure that dwells with the consciousness of earnest effort and sincere striving after the best things within us. The love of Christ may have taken hold upon you; the associations of your school and its inheritance of great and good examples, or the sense of honour may have stirred you; the feeling of your closeness in life to those around you, and of the strong currents of mutual influence, may have opened your eyes to what you owe to your neighbour and to the claims of social duty. Some one of these causes, or it may be some other cause, may have given you strength and power to walk amongst us in the narrow way of good habit and good influence. And wherever this is so, we thank God. But the question to-day is, What assurance do you feel that this will continue? When we go elsewhere, what habits, what tendencies, what fixed bent of spirit and character shall we exhibit? Knowing as we do how strongly the forces of the outer world will act upon us, it is never a useless warning which bids us take care that in new spheres we do not forget our old principles, or lay aside any good habits. "Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters." We have learnt to look upon certain laws of conduct and feeling, certain duties, certain standards of life, as beyond dispute, and fundamental. If so, they are also of universal application; and we should hold them as things which are altogether independent of the customs, traditions, or tone of any society into which we may go. It is probable that some of you may find this doctrine not altogether free from difficulties before many weeks are over. You may find yourselves young and apparently uninfluential members of some society in which the standards of life are low, and you may be tempted to think, under the pressure of surrounding opinion, that you are not called upon to set up or display any standard of your own; and there is always a chorus of voices ready enough to echo any such tempting suggestions. But if ever you are tempted thus to let slip the things you have learnt and accepted, the voice of Isaiah should prove a help and a safeguard. And its exhortation is supported by the respect and admiration you feel for any one who has the courage to stand alone in such a case, true to his rooted convictions. Another word may be added. We met, a great many of us, this morning at that table to which men do not come unless they entertain the purpose of treading in the footsteps of Christ, and of nursing His Holy Spirit in their hearts. As we lifted up our hearts there, as we ate of that bread and drank of that cup, as we prayed to be kept safe from the sins that most easily beset us, as we sealed in each other's presence the resolutions which are to direct our steps in safe paths, it was not of circumstances or places that we were thinking--it was the vision of Christ our Saviour that was before our eyes, and we pray that this vision may remain with us. When we think of all our diverging paths as we separate just now, and of the uncertainty how many of us may meet again in that far horizon, and how many may have wandered out of the way in the wilderness, we do not doubt that we shall often need the strengthening influence of this vision of Christ, if we, too, hope to inherit the blessing which is reserved for those who are faithful under all circumstances, and who sow beside all waters. X. THE PRESENCE OF GOD. "And Jacob awakened out of his sleep and said, Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not."--GENESIS xxviii. 16. These words indicate the beginning of a new life in the patriarch Jacob. They tell us of the moment when, as it would appear, his soul awoke in him. And they surprise us in some degree, as such awakenings of spiritual capacity often do; for Jacob's recorded antecedents were not exactly such as to lead us to expect the dream and the vision, and the awakening which are described in this passage. He had cheated his brother out of his father's blessing; he was leaving his father's house in consequence, to avoid this brother's threatened vengeance; and as he slept at Bethel he dreamed his dream of the ladder set up on earth and reaching to heaven; and he saw the angels ascending and descending, and the Lord standing above it, and he heard the Divine voice charged with promise and with blessing: "I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest." This, taking it in all its parts, is a very surprising narrative; and the point in it on which I desire to fix your attention for a moment is this, that this vision startled him into a new consciousness--"Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not." It was the beginning of a new life. That vision, we may be sure, never entirely faded. He was never afterwards the same man he had been before it. It had awakened the divine capacity in him; and it remained with him as a constant reminder of the presence of God in his life, to protect and to inspire him--"I am with thee, and I will keep thee in all places whither thou goest." Such a voice as this in a man's heart gives his life a new quality; it puts him in a new relation to all common things. We may well believe that it was this more than anything else which drew Jacob apart from the common heathen life around him, from that day onwards. It was this which, in spite of all his weaknesses, defects, and failures in life and character, gradually raised him to a different level. It was this which finally culminated in transforming him from Jacob the supplanter to Israel the prince of God. So far as appears, he had gone out from his home, as so many go forth in all ages, a dull soul, though with latent capacities, his thoughts bent on securing his personal safety and his worldly success. But he woke in the desert after that vision, with the seeds of the new life rooted and growing in him. It is this moment of awakening on which I desire to fix your thoughts--this moment of his transfiguration; when he saw and felt a heaven above him, and yet very close, with its ladder of angelic communication, which he had not _so_ seen or felt before; the moment when a new consciousness flashed through his soul, and illumined unsuspected chambers in it, stirring new thoughts and new aspirations. He woke up to be a new man henceforth, moving in a new presence, and having always in his ears the voice of a Divine call. Do you ask why I dwell on this familiar history, or desire that you should contemplate and realise this change in the young man Jacob? It is because there is just the same soul, the same capacity of higher life in every one of us: in some it is awake already and transfiguring their life; in others still latent, sleeping, undiscovered. I dwell on it because it makes and will make all the difference in the world to your life whether in your case this capacity is awakened or not. This, then, is what I have to postulate as giving a value beyond the power of words to describe to every soul amongst us. It bids us recognise and keep always before us that in every common life, of child or man, even in the most worldly or the hardest, the most frivolous, the most cynical, the most sensual, or the most degraded, there is latent, it may be altogether unfelt and disregarded through long years, giving no sign of its presence, it may be, it often is, overlaid, trodden down, even at the point of death, but still there, this living soul with all its possibilities. It is within every one of us, stamped with the image of God, and charged with unimagined possibilities. And it must be obvious that the whole difference between any two lives, between your life and your neighbour's life, may depend on this awakening of the soul in one of you and its not awakening in the other. Of the two brothers, Esau and Jacob, I suppose we are all drawn at the outset to Esau; our heart goes out to him, as we read, the impulsive, the impetuous, the affectionate, and we feel a corresponding dislike of Jacob's craft and cunning, and selfish calculations. There can be no doubt, we say, which was the meaner character to begin with. But neither is there any doubt why it was that it came to be written, "Jacob I have loved, but Esau have I hated." The one was just the child of the world around him, yielding to its temptations, living by its standards. The soul in him never awoke, so as to transfigure his thoughts and purposes. The other is a man of Divine visions, inspired with the sense of a Divine presence and a Divine purpose directing him. Nowhere do we see more clearly than in this narrative how great a change may come to any of us, if the unawakened capacities of our soul are touched by the breath of some uplifting inspiration. As we read of this contrast between Esau and Jacob, and their destinies, we feel--and we feel it all the more because Jacob to begin with seems to be made of such common clay--we feel what a transforming power in a man's life this awaking of the soul may be. A life which is without the inspiration that takes possession of us in the moments of this awakening, and is consequently without these visions that flash before the soul as it awakens, a life that is not deeply stirred by spiritual hopes or Divine thought, or the call to new duty, remains in one man a selfish and worldly life, in another a frivolous, in a third a sensual life. But the very same life--and here is the practical value to us, here is the hopefulness of such considerations--the very same life, when the breath of God's spirit or His penetrating voice has stirred and roused the soul in it, is felt to be transformed. The man is born anew. "There is nothing finer," some one has said, "than to see a soul rise up in men, which amazes the very men in whom it rises." They are surprised to find that these new capacities were in them, unnoticed through their careless days, yet in them all the time. This birth of the new life, with all its promise of new tastes, new ambitions, new thoughts, new purposes, may indeed come to you without your feeling all at once how great a thing it is. At first it may be nothing more than some vision of the possibilities of your life, or some electric flash of new consciousness that runs through you, or the sharp pang of remorse for some sin or some neglect, or the flush of shame or repulsion as you think of something or other in your life, or the glow of some good resolution to begin some new life or new duty, or take some new turn, or pursue some new aim. You hardly think perhaps of this as the awakening of your soul. It may never have occurred to you to think of it as being just as sacred a thing as was Jacob's vision at Bethel, as being indeed the work of the same Divine spirit. But let us consider it a little further. Whatever it is that is thus stirring in your heart, it comes and it comes again; it lingers in your thoughts and feelings; it haunts, it impresses and awes you; it rises before you suddenly and stops you from some sin, or, if it fails to stop you, it turns the pleasure for which you craved into wretchedness; or it encourages and consoles you in some hour of weakness or sorrow. I suppose there is hardly one of you who has not had some such experience as this. And if you ask. What is it? It is, I repeat, the awakening of the soul in you--nothing less than this--and happy is it for you, if you recognise that it is the soul striving to win its proper place in the regulation of your life. When Moses saw the vision of the burning bush, and suddenly felt himself on holy ground; when Elijah heard the still, small voice calling, "What doest thou here, Elijah?" when Saul, on his way to Damascus, fell to the ground conscience-smitten, crushed, blinded, rebuked; when the child Samuel heard the Divine voice calling to him in the darkness of the night;--in each case it was the awakening or the reawakening of the soul--the uprising of the spiritual capacities, the vision of the higher life--and so exactly with all of _you_. Are you not sometimes conscious of the uprisings in you of a spirit calling upon you to recognise the angels' ladder that connects _your_ life also with the heaven above us? If so, there is this further thing to note about such moments of experience. This feeling of some spiritual capacity in you, this call to some higher view of life and duty, this uprising of the moral sense and the repulsion towards the lower forms of life which comes with it--this is God's personal gift to us, and we pray that you may possess it early; for it is not only a new consciousness, it is itself a new power in your life. You cannot have it, feeling its presence and hearing its suggestions, and debase your life in any way, as you might have done, but for its presence. It is so very true that, in the life of the Spirit, looking up means lifting up. As the plant turns to the sun, it grows towards the sun; as it looks up to the light, it grows towards the light; so it is with us. We feel that we are sons of God, and we tend to become so. Through some influence or other, we awake to a vivid consciousness that God has created us in His image, endowed us with Divine capacities, and this consciousness becomes a purifying and inspiring force in our life, and it is a new life in consequence. Pray that such influences may prevail around you here, and that you may hold them fast until they have blessed your life. XI. "MEMBERS ONE OF ANOTHER." "So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another."--ROMANS xii. 5. There are some moral and spiritual truths which it seems to be almost impossible to impress upon the practical life of the world, although they meet with a sort of universal acceptance. Men agree with them, they re-echo them, they applaud them; they do everything, in fact, but exhibit them as the moving, inspiring, and guiding truths of their daily practice. And among these I fear we must still class that one which is expressed in the text I have just read, a text which sets forth the fundamental fact that whatever else Christianity may teach, it teaches as one of its first and principal lessons that a Christian man has to live in Christ for his neighbours. If such a text means anything, it means that Christianity is essentially a religion of society, that it sets before us social claims as standing before all other claims; that, starting from the Divine Sacrifice as the central fact of human life, it was intended to root out of our hearts the noxious weed of selfishness by the power of the Divine love, and to build up the organisation of men in their common relationships upon this new basis. It may sound somewhat strange to speak at this time of day of what Christianity is intended to do, rather than what it has done already. But it is even more strange to read the teaching of the Sermon on the Mount, and all the other words of the Lord; all the lessons of His life and His sacrifice; the history of the first generation of Christians; the descent of the Spirit upon them; and the teaching of the apostolic brotherhood--to remember that all this is our accepted faith; that it has been the faith of one generation after another for eighteen hundred years; that we grow up in this faith, live in it, and die in it; and at the same time to contemplate side by side with it all the elements of the common life, all the rules and customs of society, all the standards of conduct which ordinary men take as their measure of daily duty and purpose. Thus, whilst on the one hand Christian influences, and all the changes in the world's life which are due to them, fill us with wonder and gratitude, the failures of Christianity are scarcely less impressive. When we consider the ordinary run of men's lives, so different for the most part in spirit, and in aim and guiding rules, from that type which the New Testament sets before us, it would almost seem as if to the majority their religion was not a ruling and dominating principle, pervading this present life, but only an _ideal_, shedding around us a glow of indefinite hopes and possibilities, an ideal hardly to be realised, laid up somewhere in the heavens--[Greek text]. These contrasts between the revelation of the Gospel and the standards of the Christian world have always troubled the most earnest spirits in every generation. Some of you remember, no doubt, how this contrast between Christian profession and the life of selfish sin and waste flashed into fierce poetry in one such spirit of the last generation, who grew up in this school. "Through the great, sinful streets of Naples, as I passed, With fiercer heat than flamed above my head My heart was hot within me, till at last My brain was lightened when my tongue had said Christ is not risen." And men who are truly in earnest about faith and life, and who are perplexed and distressed by the contradictions and insincerities that meet them, must often be moved as he was. And yet, when we look closer, and consider that the battle of spiritual progress has this peculiarity attached to it, that it has to be fought over again, in every generation, and in every separate individual soul, the result is less surprising. Remembering this, we do not expect the victory of the last generation to save us from defeat or failure. And this has to be borne in mind equally in regard to the continuous life of societies and to our own separate lives. Thus in such a society as this, if our predecessors uplifted the standards of conduct, inculcated high principles, and inspired their generation with a strong pervading spirit, this should make it easier for us to do likewise; but it does not insure our doing it. All this higher life will die in our hands if the same regenerating spirit is not alive and working in our hearts also. So, again, your individual victory over sin in the power of the Spirit in you, does not save my life from having to fight the battle for itself and win its own victories. So that, however perplexing the phenomena of life may seem whilst we look at them in the mass or from the outside, if we read the Gospel of Christ as a message to our own souls a great deal of the perplexity disappears. And it was with this personal message that Christ came, and there is no hope of our understanding His mission, or of living in the light of His transforming spirit, if we think of it in any other way than this. The purpose of His revelation is to crucify the selfish instinct in us, and to rouse us to the life of self-devotion, to the idea of consecrated energies; and this being so, all Christian life is of the nature of a warfare; and a warfare which begins afresh with each generation of men; because selfishness, with all its tribe of attendant appetites and passions, springs afresh in every single soul, and is nurtured, strengthened, cultivated, by so many of the conditions of life. If, then, the Spirit of Christ is really to prevail in our life, it must be by effecting our emancipation from selfish instincts, and rousing in us the spirit of devotion to the good of other lives. In proportion as you diminish selfishness in your own life or in any other, by fostering generous affections and cultivating the spirit of social duty and religious aspiration, by walking in the footsteps of Christ and living in the light of His presence, you are laying the only possible foundation of any lasting progress, you are following the one true method by which the mystery of sin is to be overcome. We may wonder that this should be so difficult; for of selfishness we should say that we all dislike it. In its grosser forms we repudiate it. The very word is one which we articulate with a certain accent of contempt. But when we come to its refined and subtle workings in our nature, when we think of its Proteus-like changeableness, its power of assuming the various guises even of duty or religion; when we reflect how it can clothe itself in the choicest garb of art, or science, or divine philosophy, we find very likely that we are always in danger of being enslaved by it. And we do well to pray in all sincerity that grace may expel our selfishness; for indeed the influence of true religion is to be gauged by the extent to which this prayer is being fulfilled in us. The fulfilment of it is what we mean by the regenerate life. I need not ask you how you feel in the presence of any character which you recognise as cleansed from all taint of selfishness, a character, softened, refined, purified, inspired, consecrated. I would rather ask whether you know of any personal influence to be compared with that of such a character. And if, as I anticipate, you would answer that there is none like it, I would ask you to bear in mind that this influence may be yours. You are invited by all the highest calls within and around you to make it yours. "What is the aim and purpose of his life?" is a question which men are justified in asking about us; and they are justified in passing their verdict upon us by the answer which our life gives. Does he live for himself, they will ask, for his own pleasures, his own delights, be they coarse or refined, his own indulgence, his own particular interest? Is there anything of the spirit or enthusiasm of sacrifice visible in the ordinary tenor of his actions? The world, this Christian world, is full of those concerning whom the answer to such questions can only be a distinct negative; and yet we know that in all such characters, whether in youth or age, Christianity is a failure. Therefore we shall accept it as our primary duty, the purpose of our existence as a Christian school, to train up men who shall be penetrated by the spirit of unselfishness, possessed by the feeling that their lives are to be consecrated to the common good. Societies differ very widely in the type of character they impress. Here and there we see a society, here and there a school, which has somehow acquired the power to stamp on those who go out from it a certain impress of nobility. They go forth like the knights of our famous English legend--imperfect no doubt and erring, but each one of them inspired with the consciousness that his life is a holy quest. There are other societies and schools among them which seem to possess everything but this one power. What, then, are we to say of our hopes? What is to be the mission of our generation here? Shall we contribute anything to raise the common type? Or shall we drift on as the world drifts, a little better, or a little worse? Shall we not rather pray and hope as we begin once more to weave the web of mutual influence, that you may grow up here not altogether like the herd of common men, but emancipated early from the life of selfish desire, feeling the spirit of Christ within you, remembering your baptismal vows, with eyes open to heavenly visions, and not disobedient unto them? XII. THE SOWER AND THE SEED. "A sower went out to sow his seed."--ST. LUKE viii. 5. It is significant that the first of the Saviour's parables is the parable of the sower, that the first thing to which He likens His own work is that of the sower of seed, the first lesson He has to impress upon us by any kind of comparison is that the word of God is a seed sown in our hearts, a something which contains in it the germ of a new life. It is no less significant that He returns so often to this same kind of comparison for the purpose of impressing us always with the primary fact, that our relationship to God, the Father of Spirits, in other words our spiritual condition at the present moment, our hope for the time to come, does not depend upon some body of doctrine, but on our having received into the secret places of the heart the seeds of a new life. This is suggestive of a great many considerations which touch our life very closely; but I will not turn aside to them at this moment, as my desire is to fix your thoughts for the present on this one fundamental thing, that the principle of moral and spiritual life in you is a seed, and as such it is endowed with a power of independent separate growth; it was intended to grow in you. The sower casts his seed upon the earth and goes his way, and, once sown, it springs up and grows, as Jesus said in another parable, "he knoweth not how." This, then, is the truth which He is impressing on our attention, when He speaks of His revelation as a seed, a seed to be sown by hands which have no control over it except to sow it. The soul of each and every one of us is a seed-field, and the seeds of new life and purpose should be growing in it. As we recall the other parable of the seed growing secretly, recorded in St. Mark's Gospel, we feel even more strongly how the essence of all our life is in seeds of influence. "So is the Kingdom of Heaven as if a man should cast seed upon the earth, and the seed should spring up and grow, he knoweth not how." It grows in us mysteriously we know not how. And I am not sure that we all, indeed I think it likely that we do not all, take it home to our thoughts with sufficient seriousness that this mysterious growth in the thing sown implies a mysterious vital power or force which is inherent in it. I call it a mysterious vital power, because all life is a mystery to us. The very thought of life lands us in mystery, in mystery which defies analysis. We know that all the life in us and around us follows certain laws, as we call them, the life of plants, the life of animals, the life of man, each following its own laws after its kind, and that is all we know about it. We can observe its action, its uniformities, its sequences, and variations, but beyond this we cannot penetrate its secret. It grows mysteriously, we know not how. But this much we know, that no life is spontaneously generated. The science of our day has demonstrated it, as we believe, beyond dispute, that you cannot create life out of dead matter. All life comes from some antecedent life. Wherever you see life of any kind, you know that there must have been before it some form of life which was its parent. Yet again, the scientific investigator points out another suggestive fact, that the lower creature does not of its own lower nature expand into the higher, but that life is lifted up and grows by the infusion of something higher than itself. So, too, we believe that the Spirit of God touches with its mysterious power the dead souls of men; it transforms them, it uplifts them, they are born again. They are roused and stirred to new capacity by the touch and inspiration of this Divine life. This is what is meant when it is said that if any man be in Christ he is a new creature. He has received into his nature this mysterious gift, or rather this seed of the new life. Such is the Christian doctrine of the new birth, or of the life-giving breath of the Spirit, or of the sowing the seed of Divine life in us. You may describe it how you please, if only you take due note of this, that in proportion as you realise or accept this truth as in any way intimately connected with your own personal life and conduct, all the common things around you acquire a new importance, and I might even say some touch of sacredness, because they are felt to be strewn with these seeds of influence which God is sowing around us, with a hand that never rests, through all our years, in uncounted ways. This seed of new life which is to save you from the power of sin and the flesh and give you new aspirations, purer tastes, stronger purposes, need I remind you how it is sown, in what manifold and various ways? It must be within the personal experience of some of you to testify how your meetings in this chapel every morning may sow it. One day it falls on your heart in some word of some hymn or prayer, or in some thought or feeling which flashes through you, or some pricking of conscience for no other knows what sin or fault, or in some new resolve. Sometimes it is found that a passing word of a preacher sows it (it is in this hope I preach to you), or again it is sown in the common ways of daily life, by the reading of some book, or by the word or example of a friend, or by some casual sight or experience. We remember how the seed of an unresting and beneficent life, a life devoted to the good of the poor and the suffering, was sown in Lord Shaftesbury by the shocking sight of a pauper funeral when he was a boy at Harrow. So it may be sown in your hearts you know not beforehand when or where, to grow up and bear fruit an hundred fold. The wind bloweth where it listeth--so is every one that is born of the Spirit. You never know what Divine seed it may deposit in your heart at any moment; but this you do know, that if the word of Christ be true, whenever this gift of life comes to you it is a new birth. And there is all the more mystery and sacredness about our common life just because we never know how or when these seeds may fall upon our life to bless it, and because men are often altogether unconscious of the beginnings of their growth in them. Some seed of good influence falls into the soil of their heart, and seems to lie there buried in the winter of neglect or waste. Thus some men may carry the seeds long and far, not knowing the power or the potency of the life that is in them; but some day they strike root and grow and bear fruit in new convictions, or in new desires and purposes; and this may be the case with any one amongst us, and hence it is natural that we should press the question on ourselves and on each other--What are you making of those seeds of higher life which have been sown in you by your mother's love, by your father's words, by all the lessons and influences of such a place as this, seeds which are falling around you continually, and may possibly be trodden down or overlaid? As we look at these parables of the Lord telling of this sowing and this growth of seeds, they bring it home to us very forcibly that the only true test of life in Christ is growth in Christian graces. And this brings us to a consideration of grave practical importance. It bids us be very careful to distinguish between seeds of life taking root in the heart and springing up into new activities, and mere waves of impression. The seed springs up and grows in you, the wave merely flows over you, lifting and moving you for a moment, and then leaving you as before. Thus, and it is a warning which is not unneeded in our day, a day of much emotional religion, there is all the difference in the world between a religion of moods and a religion of growth. The one is the plaything of the winds, the other is rooted in Christ. Thus I am brought to two reflections, one on the function and aim of the preacher, the other the duty of the hearer of God's word. The preacher--and the same might be said of every master in such a society as this--the preacher has to think of himself primarily and chiefly as a servant of Christ charged with the duty of sowing the seeds of spiritual life in your hearts. And the thought that the Saviour has revealed to us seeds of life which have this regenerating power in them, and that in Him we see what possibilities of growth there are in these seeds--this is our constant encouragement. The sower's hand may be feeble, and his sowing may be awkward, or halting, or uncertain, but there is a Divine force or possibility in all seeds of truth, or purity, or right feeling which he scatters among you, independent of his sowing, and he never knows in what soul some seed may lodge and germinate and grow up and bear fruit here and hereafter, even to the endless life. So we believe that every work of good influence, whether of man or boy, will prosper, because we remember it as a part of God's providential law, that His seed if sown grows of itself, mysteriously. And we need not wonder at the mystery, for it is the Spirit of God which is in the seed; and it is ready to swell and grow and bear new fruits as it lodges in your heart. Through and in that seed of good influence it is God Himself who is working in you. Such, as we learn from the word of Christ, such, as we see it exemplified in His person, is the mystery of the Divine life in the hearts of men--not in some other lives, but in your life and mine. But this only leads us to another vital question--a question which I leave with you for the present, and to which we may return another day--What is your share of active duty in regard to these seeds of good influence and good purpose that are sown in you; what are you doing, and what are you intending to do, to secure that they shall be bearing some fruit in your own daily life? XIII. THE LENTEN FAST. "This kind can come forth by nothing, but by prayer."--ST. MARK ix. 29. You remember the narrative from which I have taken this verse. Jesus, as we read, had just come down from the Mount of Transfiguration, and when He was come to the multitude, a certain man besought him saying, "Have mercy on my son, for he is lunatic and sore vexed, and I brought him to Thy disciples, but they could not cure him." Then Jesus rebuked the devil, and the child was cured from that hour. Thereupon His disciples came to Him with this inquiry--"Why could not we cast him out? And He said to them, Because of your little faith. This kind can come forth by nothing, but by prayer;" or, as our Authorised Version has it, "by prayer and fasting." Here, then, we have set before us a very striking and significant contrast: the contrast between the spiritual power of Jesus fresh from the Mount of Transfiguration, and the want of such power in His disciples, who represent to us the common life of the multitude and the plain. His reply to their question was clearly intended to suggest to them the cause of their spiritual feebleness. Do you wonder at your lack of power over the diseases of the soul? "This kind can come forth by nothing, but by prayer." Now, this suggestive answer is very appropriate for our consideration at the present time when we are approaching the season of Lent, which has been observed century after century as a special season of fasting, prayer, and penitence for sin, through all the Christian Church. When we think of these weeks, it is reasonable to believe that such observance, so universal, so long continued, must have satisfied some deep need of the heart, especially as it is not based on any particular dogma. And this incident in the Saviour's life, and these emphatic words of His, may help us to a clearer understanding of the value of such times. They declare to us the principle of the spiritual harvest, that, in the spiritual life as in all else, we reap as we sow. They are intended to convey to us this plain lesson, that if any of us give little thought, attention, or effort to that side of our life which we speak of as the spiritual, if there is in our daily habit and practice little real prayer or self-denial, or devotion, little communing with God, little endeavour to live in the spirit of Christ, and if, this being so, we find ourselves weak or vacillating in our struggle against sin or evil, whether in our own life or in society, there is nothing surprising in such a result. It is in our religious life just as in everything else--spiritual carelessness or neglect must mean spiritual weakness. In all other matters we look for results in some proportion to our efforts. As we sow we expect to reap. Here, for instance, in your daily life, if you wish to excel in any particular game or pursuit, you practise it with diligence. You know that, without such practice or concentration of effort upon it, any expectation of excellence is simply foolish. In your school work you recognise the same conditions. Intellectual growth may seem sometimes to come slowly, in spite of all your efforts; but it comes with certainty if you persevere, and it is equally certain that it hardly ever comes at all to those who use no effort. If, then, you look for progress or distinction, you know that you must fix your thoughts upon your work, and practise industry, and, above all, that you must cultivate a love of learning, so that your mind lingers over it with some sense of enjoyment. You do not expect a harvest where you have not sown. And it is just this same law which you recognise and accept in other matters that our Lord is here declaring to us as the law of spiritual power. Do we desire to cast any evil influence or any weakness out of our life? Do we ask despairingly how it is that we have not been able to cast it out? Our Lord's answer comes to us in these emphatic words--"This kind can come forth by nothing, but by prayer." In other words, if we really desire that our soul shall be cleansed and strengthened, we must surrender it to Him in prayer and self-denial, in spiritual exercises and communion, that He may cure it of its sin or its weakness, and inspire us with new life. Prayer and fasting are in this word of His the symbol of all special exercises of the spirit, as it strives to get free from the burden of the flesh and to come nearer to God; and without such exercises, He presses it on us if we stand in need of such reminders, we cannot hope for any harvest of spiritual strength. And we can hardly have failed to notice how His own practice corresponds with His warnings and injunctions. Before He began His ministry we read of His forty days' fast in the wilderness; and at every turn, in the course of it, we read again and again incidentally of His constant withdrawals into privacy with God. His short life on earth was a life of spiritual ministry. All the common things of life were to Him so many illustrations of some spiritual lesson of the Father's love and care, or of man's dependence on Him. In every voice of the world there was the undertone of some spiritual suggestion. So that we might say--Surely His days were one unbroken course of spiritual work and communion, and He could need no special seasons or exercises; but His example teaches us a different lesson. As if to bring it home to us beyond all possibility of doubt or question, that the most devoted, the most active, and most powerful spiritual characters, will always be those whose communion with God in private prayer and exercise is most constant and intense, He Himself was continually withdrawing for such communion; and there are no more suggestive passages in the Gospels for our guidance than those incidental references which tell us, as if by chance, giving us passing glimpses into the unrecorded portions of His life, how on one occasion He retired into a mountain apart to pray, or how on another he spent the whole night apart in prayer, or how he was in a desert place apart in prayer. These withdrawals of Jesus into the solitude of the desert or the mountain, these hours in which He was alone with the Father, are but another name for those exercises of prayer, fasting, meditation, communion with God, without which, as He tells His followers in the text I have read to you, it is not possible to eradicate from the soul those influences of sin which destroy its harmony and undermine its strength. These withdrawals were His times of spiritual refreshment; and by His practice He declares to us His need of them. And if in His case they were necessary, much more are they necessary for you and me, entangled as we are amidst all the varied influences of our common life, and with natures prone to sin. Hence it is that the Church has set apart this season of Lent to come round to us year by year as a season of special thought and prayer and self-denial. Many other times and seasons come to us laden with the same spiritual influences, and to be used by us as times of reflection, inspiration, purification, and strengthening. This is the purpose which the quiet of these recurring Sundays should be fulfilling in our lives, or our gatherings for Holy Communion. And once and again there comes to us in the course of life some time or season which is sure to make its impression upon our soul as having brought us in a special sense into the presence of God, and within the overshadowing influences of His Spirit. So it may happen to us that some family bereavement, the death of father or mother, of brother or sister, or child of our affections, draws us away from the world into a closer communion with our Father in Heaven, a communion which is never entirely lost again or forgotten. So, too, comes the season of confirmation, as to many of you just now, with all its thoughts, feelings, prayers, and resolutions. And it is a happy thing for our life when any of these seasons leave an indelible mark upon our memory and our spirit. But as we think of these words of Jesus, "This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting"--the question for each of us here to-day is, what practical daily meaning we hope to give to this season of Lent which is to begin on Wednesday. Let us not fancy that we can allow such seasons to come and go, year by year, giving them no thought or attention, without some corresponding loss. The voice of humanity, and the experience of centuries, the practice of holy men, and the example and the words of Christ Himself, have all testified to the need there is for the spiritual observance of such times, if men are to keep their soul alive in them--and who are we that we should venture to set ourselves against such overpowering testimony? Let us rather address ourselves seriously to making these weeks a time of some special exercise or discipline such as our life may need. There is hardly one of us but will confess, if he thinks of the matter at all, that the world is too much with us; that its influence is too strong upon us; that we are too ready to conform to its ways and follow its indulgences. And such a confession is equivalent to an acknowledgment that we need these Lenten seasons. And if with this feeling in our hearts we use the coming weeks with any definite purpose, praying to be rid of some temptation or weakness, or to be endowed with some strength, or to be supported in some good purpose, we are sure to recognise with thankfulness, when the time is over, that it has indeed proved a time of some dislodgment, that some temptation or habit has fallen away from us and left us free, so that some new spirit or purpose has begun to grow in us. We shall, in fact, be conscious, as the weeks go on, that a new life of new tastes and new satisfactions has sprung up, as the first fruits of our prayer. If we doubt the need of such exhortations as these, let us reflect for a moment--Does it not sometimes happen to us that our souls are only too like the soul of that sick child in the Gospel? Good instincts, and intentions, and tendencies, are clearly felt and recognised, but they are fitful, weak, and intermittent. Another spirit seems to lay hold of us and carry us whither it will. If in any sense this can be said to be your case, then remember, that just what the Saviour's healing word was to that child, sick and possessed, as He met it on His way from the Hill of Transfiguration, and breathed over it the spirit of the higher life, reducing the chaos of the soul to harmony, and bringing reason out of madness, and freedom out of demoniac possession, these holy seasons of time-honoured observance may be to your soul, if you use them reverently, and as God's appointed means for your growth in the Spirit. XIV. GOD'S CURSE ON SIN. "Therefore I will judge you, O house of Israel, every one according to his ways, saith the Lord God. Repent and turn yourselves from all your transgressions; so iniquity shall not be your ruin."--EZEKIEL xviii. 30. These words of Ezekiel may be understood as expressing in the prophet's language what the Book of Deuteronomy expresses in such denunciations as those which were read to us the other day in the Commination Service. They correspond also to the warning of St. Paul when he says--"Be not deceived; God is not mocked; whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. He that soweth to the flesh shall reap corruption; and he that soweth to the spirit shall reap everlasting life." Or again they correspond to that question which is put to us in the Epistle to the Hebrews--"If every transgression and disobedience received a just recompense and reward, how shall we escape?" Thus we find in the Pentateuch, in Ezekiel, and in the apostolic writings the representatives of three very different stages of religious enlightenment, all teaching us in effect the same lesson, to remember the recompense that sin never fails to bring upon him who commits it. As we listen to the curses of Deuteronomy on one sin and on another, and then read the language of Ezekiel or St. Paul, we are conscious of a difference in the modes of thought and expression. The thought of the apostle is separated from that of the lawgiver or the prophet of the Old Testament by the new revelation and the sacrifice of Jesus; but yet underneath all differences their judgment on every sinful act or habit remains spiritually the same. They all alike bid us, when we think of our sins, to think also of the inevitable punishment which rises behind them like their shadow; and to bear in mind that the root of the whole matter is the one incontrovertible and never-changing fact of human life that as you sow you must expect to reap--he that soweth to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption. Now, inasmuch as your early years are the seed-time of your life, these stern reminders that if you sow any sin in your soul you will some day reap its curse, that God will judge you every one according to his ways, all this is very appropriate for your consideration. And you are likely to be all the more serious about your present life and its habits, tastes, and purposes if this thought really takes possession of you, that there is in fact a very close analogy between the life of the soul and life around us in the outer world, and that every seed we sow in it grows after its own kind. In the region of animal or vegetable life you see and recognise this law on every side. You trace it sometimes as the law of improvement by culture, sometimes as the law of degeneration. You cultivate and tend a garden or a field, sowing, planting, eradicating, and the growths of flower or fruit improve in proportion to your care; but leave it to itself and the weeds choke it, and the very fruit degenerates; your rose becomes a dog-rose--it reverts, as men say, to a lower type. So exactly is it with your own life; so long as it is grafted into a life higher than your own, so long as good purposes are being sown in it and good habits cultivated, and the bad weeded out and the Spirit of God breathes through it, it is growing nearer to the Divine type; but neglect it, or follow sinful impulse or low taste, and it becomes like the garden of weeds; degeneracy begins at once, it is changing to something worse, it is reverting to a lower type. This is a way of expressing it which is sufficiently familiar to you. But this is only our modern way of looking at those facts of life which were eloquent to men of earlier times as the curse of God. As, then, it is undoubtedly true that-- "Our acts our angels are, for good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk with us still," these stern warnings which our Lenten services hold up before us are of the greatest value. Keeping before us this law that in every region of life it is the tendency of everything to bear fruit after its kind, we shall feel that we can hardly impress it too deeply upon our minds that there is no sin which we commit but will assuredly return upon our own heads. The Israelites in the Old Testament saw the hand of God thus visiting their sins upon them in many ways. They thought of Him as smiting them for their sins with consumption or with fever, with plague or mildew, or the sword of the oppressor. These are not our expectations. We have learnt that it is not with such visitations that God punishes us for our sinful indulgence or neglect, but that He does it with a punishment which may be less obvious but is often more ruinous than these. Neglect the opportunities of good with which He strews your path in early life, let some sin strike its roots in your heart and take possession of it, and the curse of God for that neglect or that sin will overtake you, no doubt of it; coming not perhaps as the Israelite on Mount Ebal expected it to come for any sin of his, but coming, you hardly know how, as the change for the worse, the sinking to lower levels of thought, and taste, and aim, and practice, the reversion to lower types, which is the end of neglect, coming as the creeping and insidious growth of the power of sin working ever stronger in us as the natural fruit of indulgence. So the curse of that ancient Jewish law turns out to be a terrible and unchanging truth, written in a law which is never obsolete and grows not old, a law which calls on us for our Amen! as it cries to us equally in the language of Divine revelation and of the latest scientific discovery: "Sow neglect," it says, "and you will reap deterioration; sow sin, and you will reap corruption." This vision of the ultimate results of evil is a very ugly one, put it in whatever shape you will, and we are naturally somewhat loth to look it in the face. We would rather not think of any sin of ours as entailing such consequences. This conception of Divine justice or retribution embodied in the action of unbending laws and declaring that death is the fruit of sin, and that death must come of it, this is no doubt a conception which inspires awe. We shrink from it; we hardly dare to say Amen! to its dread utterances. We should like, it may be, to shut our eyes to the fact and dwell rather on the thought that our God is long-suffering and of great kindness and of tender mercy. It is more soothing to think of love than of retribution, or of the arm that shelters or upholds us than of the hand that smites; but the real question should be--"Is it true, this declaration that as we sow we reap, that the wages of sin is death, death of faculty, death of hope?" It is foolish to blink the sterner aspects of life. The fruit of such blinking and turning aside is very often the very thing we do not like to think of--indulgence and its retribution. Divine love and goodness and long-suffering cannot occupy too much of our thoughts and prayers; for it is through these that the heart is touched, and the spirit is fostered in us, and we awake to the new life in Christ. But if we shrink from contemplating that law of Divine retribution, which works in men's lives side by side with the law of mercy and love, it is time for us to ask ourselves--"How is it that I thus shrink from the thought of these penalties?" There is indeed one sense in which we naturally shrink from the thought that the wages of sin is death, even while we acknowledge that it is so. It is inexpressibly sad to dwell on the infinite mass of sin which is daily bearing its bitter and deadly fruit in the world, and propagating itself after its kind; to think of the untold number of darkened or misguided souls that have sown to the flesh, and are going in consequence down to failure and death, blighted, corrupted, ruined. From this thought we naturally turn to the thought of God's mercy, and pray that He may yet sow the seeds of new hope in the dismal waste of such lives. But it happens to us, I fear sometimes, that this thought of God's curse on sin sends a chill through the heart, and we shrink away from it, because of our own unregenerate life, because of the fascination which sinful impulse or habit exercises over us. If the warning voice of our Lenten Commination Service has convicted any one of us of this motive for shrinking from its stern sentence, it has come to us as a true messenger of the God who has no pleasure in the death of him that dieth. We need the voice of these threatenings, because the heart has such a great power of self-deception in it. Men find it so easy to thrust away into the dim background of their thoughts all the dark but sure consequences of present sins, treating them as a debt which will come up no doubt for payment some day, but may be put aside just now. And one virtue of our stern plain-speaking Lenten services is this, that they will not allow us to forget that fated reckoning day--they put us, whether we like it or not, face to face with the sure consequences of sin; and they compel us to listen to the question--"What is the choice of thy life?" For you will bear in mind that we read all these decrees of Divine law with our eye fixed on our own life and not on our neighbour. They are meant to help us to judge ourselves, and not some other person; they lead us to penitence and not to criticism, so that our readiness or our unwillingness to meet and to weigh them, and to respond to them with definite prayer and penitence, may be taken as an index of our religious sincerity, and of our readiness to consecrate our lives to the service of our Saviour Christ. And it is well for us that we should ask ourselves these questions; for if indeed it is true that every transgression and disobedience shall receive its just recompense and reward, how else shall we escape? XV. THE CONFLICT WITH EVIL. "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."--ST. MATTHEW vi. 13. It is good for us sometimes to stand still for a moment and consider our use of very familiar words. And this petition may appropriately illustrate our need of such an exercise. It is on your lips every day. Every Sunday you offer it you hardly know how many times, in private and in public prayer: "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." And the moment you stop to think about it you feel--who does not?--that it is a very solemn and moving petition if you offer it before God in sincerity, and with an honest desire to be kept out of the way of sin; but it becomes a fearful mockery if it is offered with unclean lips, or by one who is living in any sort of sinful practice, either secret or open. And yet, as we all know, it is possible to do this, making the prayer mere lip service, under the influence of daily custom. This, then, is the question it suggests to us whenever we stop to think about it: How far are we endeavouring to keep our lives in accordance with the spirit of such a petition? "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." Most of you, I can well believe, would not voluntarily or deliberately step out of your way to meet a temptation, or to seek any evil course of life. You would not do it of your own free choice, or in cold blood, as we say. This, at any rate, is your own feeling about sin, whether the feeling is consistent with your life or not. As you contemplate any low form of life in another, you recognise its ugliness and its degrading character, and you call it very likely by the name it deserves. If, then, you find yourself involved in any sin, in spite of these feelings, and although you take this daily prayer upon your lips, how comes it to be so? How comes it that you remain in this pitiable condition? Your answer is, perhaps, that temptation comes upon you unawares, and that it takes you by surprise; or it seems to watch for some moment of forgetfulness or weakness; or you fight against a temptation, but still it clings to you as if it had a life of its own and were independent of you; or you are drawn into sin you scarcely know how; or you are driven into it by some one whom you fear although you despise him; or it seems to you to be in the very air you breathe. And although such answers explanatory of a life of sin or waste are no real excuse for it, they are very often quite true. If it were not so, the devil would not be the dangerous enemy that he assuredly is to our spiritual life; our risk of failure in our battle with sin would not be so great as experience shows it to be. We must therefore expect that temptations to sin will sometimes come upon us quite by surprise and at unlocked for moments, and that some temptations will linger and cling to us with a hateful persistence; you must be prepared also to find that some companion may draw you towards a sin, or a bully may endeavour to drive you into it. Your life is a happy one if it is free from all such risks, but you cannot count upon such freedom. So that, if any one begins his life thinking that his conflict with evil and its manifold temptations is going to be an easy one, he begins under a dangerous delusion, and he is likely to end in some disastrous failure. You desire, let us hope, to keep your soul unstained by evil ways. If, then, you remember that to secure such a stainless and unpolluted life you have not only to fight with some external enemy now and then, but against dark and insidious powers of evil which seem to start up around you and in the very citadel of your heart unawares, and that except through a constant sense of God's presence in your life you cannot hope to keep free from their influence, this feeling should give reality and earnestness to our daily prayer to be delivered from the evil. And, indeed, this feeling that our life is set in the midst of many and great dangers is one of the first requisites for its moral safety. It stands beside us with its warning, whenever a temptation to some sin besets us, reminding us that, no matter how pleasant or attractive the temptation may seem to be, or how trifling the sin that it suggests, it is in fact an outpost of a great army, whose name is legion, and that we should hold no parleyings and have no dealings with it, for it breathes corruption, and it brings degradation and death behind it. "_Obsta principiis_" may indeed be said to be a warning specially needed by us in regard to every kind of temptation. But we may go further than this. Our safety from particular sins depends very often and very largely, at a critical moment, upon our general attitude and feeling towards sin in every shape. It must be acknowledged, I think, that most sins which lay their hold upon us and master us, or struggle long and hard for the mastery, make their first entrance into the soul so easily, because they find it swept and garnished for their reception, and its doors wide open. With reference to this you have only to reflect on some chapter of your own experience. Has it never happened that, when some wrong or sinful act or thought or speech was first presented to you, it stirred a feeling of shrinking, or strong dislike, or fear, or uneasiness, or, it may be, disgust; but instead of listening to that warning voice, and spurning the temptation utterly, as your feeling bade you do, you were attracted somehow to turn and gaze upon it. You knew it to be sin, but you felt no repulsion. Your soul was not garrisoned and defended by any strong sense of the hatefulness and deadly influence of all sin as such; so if you fled from it it was with a backward look; and then you allowed yourself to think of it in others, or you lived on friendly and familiar terms with those who were stained by it; possibly you even jested about it; you let your thoughts feed upon it; you expressed no stern disapproval of it; you allowed the atmosphere of your life to be tainted by it; and at last your adversary the devil, having rejoiced to see his wiles thus gathering round you, saw you slip or plunge into the sin, and go one great step nearer to becoming his bondslave--just as some foolish bird, fluttering this way and that instead of spreading its wings for a heavenward flight into the pure and safe upper air, might plunge into the snares of the fowler. And yet all the while, although you were living this weak and vacillating life, which is the seed-field of sin, you were praying to God every day--"Lead us not into temptation." If we remember any such experience we may at least gather from it some lessons of safety and strength for the time to come. It reminds us first of all how vitally important is our general attitude towards every form of sin and its allurements. On this attitude it very often depends whether your life is to be comparatively free from pitfalls, or whether it is to be beset with dangers at every turning. If by your attitude and behaviour you cause it to be felt that sin is hateful to you, and that you are sincere when you pray that God may keep you from all evil, a great many of the temptations that would otherwise make your life difficult and dangerous will shrink away abashed; or if the tempter ventures to assail you, he will do it half-heartedly when he sees that you repel him with a whole-hearted repugnance. It is this attitude even more than individual acts which fixes the tone of a society. When there is no prevalent sense that there are those present who maintain this attitude of hatred and contempt for sin and everything that breeds or fosters it, the tone, as men say, becomes low, or lax, the air becomes corrupt, and life in such surroundings becomes full of peril. If the good are timid, shrinking, showing no positive fervour, no zeal for virtue, and no moral indignation against evil influence, then the bad in their society will lift up their heads and walk boldly. But when, on the other hand, they who are in their hearts convinced of the sinfulness of sin, and of the infinite mischief that may arise out of any form of it, are not ashamed to show it by their attitude, they cause the base to hide itself in its proper darkness, and they create an atmosphere around them in which temptations lose a great deal of their force and strength. Let this, then, be your feeling about your life--that when it is assailed by any sin, that sin is not something isolated or insignificant; it is not something which may be indulged or accepted, as if it had no relation with other sins; it is a part of an infinite brood of evil; and that if you admit it within the circle of your life, or tolerate it in the air you breathe, you never know where its pestilent germs may fall, and breed, and multiply, and what mischief may come of it. It is this feeling of the mysterious vitality of sin, and the subtle kinship of one form of sin with other forms, and its destructiveness when it seizes on a life or poisons an atmosphere, that helps us more than anything else to feel the force and the intensity of the Saviour's prayer for us: "Holy Father, keep through Thine own name those whom Thou hast given Me. I pray not that Thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that Thou shouldest keep them from evil." It is this same feeling of the spreading, insidious, infectious and destructive nature of sin that makes us echo this as our first and most earnest prayer for all we love, that God may keep them from evil; and it is this that makes us value so highly and recognise with thankful hearts every example of a pure and strong life, which gives inspiration and strength to those around it. XVI. SPIRITUAL BLINDNESS. "As it is written, God hath given them the spirit of slumber, eyes that they should not see, and ears that they should not hear."--ROMANS xi. 8. "Blindness in part is happened to Israel."--ROMANS xi. 25. It is a sad and painful reflection, and one which is continually forced upon us as we read the New Testament, that the long training and preparation of the Jews brought them at the last not to the acceptance but to the rejection of Jesus. They had been taught, generation after generation, that they were the called and chosen people of God. Psalmists and prophets had enriched their life with the outpouring of their moral and spiritual revelations, and fired their hopes with promises. They lived in the expectation of the Messiah who was to complete these revelations of the God who had led them and taught them ever since the days of their Egyptian bondage. Yet, when this crowning revelation came to them, they could not even recognise it. The Son of God "came unto His own and His own received Him not." As St. Paul expresses it in my text, while grieving for them with all the intensity of his fervid affection, their life was overgrown with a sort of spiritual dulness. They were suffering from a sort of ossification of the spirit, so that the last and greatest revelation of God could make no impression upon them. But this picture of the Jews rejecting and crucifying their Saviour, and unable to appreciate or to receive the gift of new life which was offered to them, blind to its beauty, unattracted by its charm, is not only one of the saddest sights in history, it is very instructive for every one of us, because it is charged with warnings that are never out of date. For there is no individual life, and no society, that is not liable to drift into a similar dulness of vision, and so to reject or disregard what God gives for its enlightenment. The great critical events in the world's history, the events that make epochs in the consciousness of men, are not different in kind from those of our own obscure lives. They are, as it were, our own familiar experience, written prophetically and written large. So the blindness that happened to Israel, and arrested their spiritual growth, may be happening no less to any of us. As God gave them the spirit of slumber, so it may be with our lives. And the very thought of our possible risks in this respect is valuable to us. To be conscious that in regard to any of the higher and better things of life our eyes may possibly be growing dim, and our ears dull of hearing, and that God may be pressing upon us gifts of great price which we are too dull to see or to accept--if our soul is sufficiently awake to feel this, then the very feeling may of itself be the germ of new life in us. And it is very certain, on the other hand, that if we are altogether without any such feelings there is a risk, which even amounts to a probability, that the hardening or deadening influences of custom and tradition will sooner or later degrade our life. And if it should be asked,--How comes it that we are so liable to be affected by this dulness of spirit and of general habit?--we have to reply that it is because of the sensitiveness of the human soul to surrounding influences. It is because our souls are so receptive, so imitative, and in consequence so easily perverted, darkened, blinded, or misled. I suppose we are all of us conscious of this sensitiveness of the moral and spiritual nature; we should all say, if questioned, that we are quite aware of it, and that no one would dispute it. The soul of every child or man, we should say, is a fine and delicate and sensitive instrument, with the possibilities in it of we know not what Divine harmonies, but easily spoilt. And yet, when we look at all the common and traditional ordering of daily life, whether in our educating of the young or in the influences that we allow to prevail among young and old, it would seem sometimes as if this thought of the soul's sensitiveness had never dawned upon us. When we once really grasp this thought, or, let us rather say, when this thought has once really fastened upon our mind, and fixed itself there, so that it remains with us, and goes about with us; and when, in consequence, we come to feel how easily any soul may be perverted, or rendered hard or dull; in one word, how easily it may be degraded; then it follows that we look with new eyes on many things, many customs, many influences which the unthinking hardly notice, or notice only to misjudge. In the light of this feeling of the soul's sensitiveness, the thoughtful man is very often intolerant of things which to others seem of little moment, because he sees how they are tending to dull or deaden the eye of the soul, or to pervert or to kill its finer instincts; and how, in consequence, though tradition may have given them a sort of spurious consecration, or the world in its blindness may have come to honour them, they are in fact laden with mischief to the general life. It was the thought of this sensitiveness of the soul to external influences, and of the ease with which any bad influence, or bad custom or practice or fashion, perverts common lives, and of the untold mischief which is consequently latent in it, that winged the words of a well-known writer when she protested, some years ago, against what she designated as debasing the moral currency. That writer was thinking primarily of vulgar jesting on great subjects, which should stir us to admiration and reverence, and so debasing men's tastes. She had in her mind the class of persons who have the art of spoiling things that are noble or beautiful by their vulgar handling of them; and of the mischief which is done by such persons to public taste and tone and character. But we may widen the reference. Whosoever, in anything that concerns the conduct of life, spreads low notions, or drags down men's opinion or taste, thus helping to pervert ordinary minds from those higher aims and motives and those reverent views of character and life which should be cherished for our common use and service, is debasing the moral currency. Here, then, we have a very practical question for our consideration and answering. "Is there anything in my life"--so the question comes to us in our self-examination--"which could be so described? any influence, spreading from my conduct, of which men might truly say that it also is helping to debase the moral currency? Is there to be seen in it anything that tends towards the lowering of common standards? any misuse of things sacred or holy? any foolish or vulgar estimate of the higher things of life?" And if we are in any doubt how to put these questions in a concrete and practical shape, we have only to remember how any one who helps to lower any standard of taste or conduct is debasing the moral currency of life; how, for instance, all those are debasing it who substitute any wrong notion of honour for right notions of honour, or who put roughness and coarseness in place of manliness, or who set the fashion of cynical judgments on good and bad characters. Or we might take an illustration from what is, unhappily, a very common element in English life: the habit of gambling sport. Wherever this habit spreads, in any class of society, from the highest to the lowest, its effect is invariable; it undermines integrity, it hardens the heart and debases taste, and is the willing handmaid of other vices. Moral degradation is its inseparable companion. Therefore, if you mix in it, or share in it, or give any adhesion or countenance to it, which helps, as men say, to make it respectable, and so to spread its influence, you are debasing the moral currency. Or take another common case. You are familiar with the poet's description, "And thus he bore without abuse the grand old name of gentleman." That is a noble thing for any man or boy to have said of him; and there is not one among you who does not desire always to be able to claim that name as his own. But, wherever we go in the world, how many men there are who claim it and yet debase it by ignoble use! They help to spread the notion that a man may be a man of low morality and still a gentleman; that his gentlemanliness may be a mere varnish of culture and manners, a thin veneering having underneath it only meanness, or coarseness, or corruption; and that, notwithstanding this, he may still claim to be called a gentleman. Those who spread such doctrines are debasing the moral currency of English life. And it should be the mission of schools like this, and of those who grow up in them, to pour upon all such persons the contempt which they deserve, and to restore the currency of common life to something of Christian purity. Remembering, then, how sensitive the soul is, and how easily by example, or conduct, or fashion it may be so perverted as to lose its clear vision and higher aims, its pure tastes and ennobling emotions, we have to make it our ambition and endeavour that our life may be kept free from such debasement. But, if we are to succeed in this, we must make it our daily prayer that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ will enlighten the eyes of our understanding, and give unto us the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge and love of Him. XVII. A NEW HEART. "A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you."--EZEKIEL xxxvi. 26. In the beautiful and suggestive dream of Solomon, which is recorded in the third chapter of the First Book of Kings, God appears to him, saying, "Ask what I shall give thee"; and Solomon's answer is, "O Lord, I am but a child set over this great people, give me, I pray Thee, a hearing heart." And God said to him, "Because thou hast asked this thing, and hast not asked for thyself long life, nor riches; behold, I have done according to thy words. I have given thee a wise and understanding heart, and I have also given thee that which thou hast not asked, both riches and honour." And the record of this vision was clearly meant to indicate that the supreme gift of the wisest of men was the hearing or understanding heart. On the other hand, there is nothing against which our Lord in the Gospels utters stronger warnings than that dulness or deadness of spirit which is described as having eyes that see not, and ears that are dull of hearing, and hearts that do not understand. And in illustration of this we read how, while the crowds throng or press upon Jesus, it is the stricken woman who, with soul sensitive to His influence, feels the virtue come out of Him though she only touches the hem of His garment. Thus we are warned to beware lest that should come upon us which was the ruin of the Jews, dulness or deadness of spiritual faculty; and we are exhorted to pray for and to cherish the hearing heart, the soul that sees and feels spiritual influences, and is sensitive to every high call. And if your soul is thus open and receptive, it is marvellous how full the world becomes to you of Divine voices. They come upon you unexpected, unsought, sending through your heart some illuminating flash of surprise, so that you wonder at your previous dulness; they strike you with the sudden shock of some new knowledge or insight, and make you feel, as never before, the true nature of your daily conduct or your duty and your relation to other men; or they come as the unresting presence of some new thought, which, once roused, haunts and troubles you with questions which you cannot answer, or feelings which you cannot get rid of. When the soul is roused in this way we see and feel the hatefulness of any sin that may have tempted or beset us; or we contrast our own life with that of those whose lot is so much harder than ours, and we are struck with shame at our selfishness, or waste, or our indifference to the privation, and sin, and suffering that are all around us in the world. Or sometimes these Divine voices in our ears bring it home to us how much we are losing out of our life's higher possibilities, if from sinful or selfish habit, from dulness of spirit or lack of sympathy, we cut ourselves off in thought and feeling and interest from the great needs, the great sorrows, the great pulsations of the larger world. But why, you may ask, do I dwell on all this? It is because these are the true Advent voices for us, coming as they do to rouse us out of narrow preoccupation, to open our eyes to the sinfulness of sin, to make us feel that the self-centred, isolated, self-seeking life is a life of a low type, and to stir us with social and religious interests and enthusiasms. These calls that come to you, whether invited or not, and that stir your heart, speaking to you out of the multitudinous life of the time you live in, are like the watchmen on the walls of Jerusalem, which never hold their peace day nor night. This ferment of higher life within us and around us, these voices of the Spirit in us, as it struggles to lift us out of the region of fleshly influences, is renewed in every generation and in every single life. If you hear no such voices, if the phenomena of life make no such impression upon you, if you are deaf to all these calls, and care for none of these things, then it is clear that your soul is not yet awake in you; you are living with a dull or darkened heart. It is a sort of cave life, or subterranean life, you lead in such a case, a life of lower rank and lesser hopes. Yet these voices from above, that come as the witness of the Divine Spirit with our spirit that we are the children of God, never fail us. They do not belong only to times far off. We are not to think of them merely as enshrined in the Bible and peculiar to it; but as living voices that are speaking to us to-day out of the depths of the Divine life, in which our life is sustained. But we have always to bear this in mind, that the Divine voices speak to men with most stirring effect in every generation when they speak to them through the pressing needs of their own day. To the Jews the voice of God came in the inspired language of their deliverers and prophets--in their unceasing warnings, and their impassioned appeals, and their revelations of new truth. To the first generation of Christians these same voices came in the shape of strong Advent hopes. Many things contributed to lift the Apostles and their followers nearer to God than men of ordinary times. They had seen the Lord; they had lived in His presence; they had gone through much tribulation; the tongue of fire had rested on them; the Spirit had taken full possession of them; but we cannot read the New Testament without feeling that the most stirring, the most regenerative influence in their society was the vividness and intensity of their Advent hope. Their expectation of the Lord's return lifted them out of the temptations of the world and above the trials of it. It took hold of their active powers, and made them new men. Their Advent expectation was not the vague, half mystic, half sentimental movement of the heart, which just touches the lives of so many Christians during our Advent seasons, while it does not really alter any of their earthly concerns. Christ was very near to the Apostolic Christians. As the eastern sky brightened every morning they felt that it might be the light of His coming; they thought of Him as only hidden from them by the neighbouring cloud. They looked for Him to return at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the noonday, and none could say how soon. And so it came to pass that this expectation made those first believers, those humble followers of Christ, those Galilean fishermen, those obscure provincials, instinct with that great life which lifts men above the world, and constitutes them a new power in it. Our lives are largely influenced by the thought of slow development; but we miss a great deal of the secret of all higher life if we forget this wonderful exaltation of the poor and ignorant and obscure by this gift of the Spirit and the inspiration of Divine hope. It was not by any method which we could have forecast that those men found out this charm which takes the heart captive and regenerates the life. In their presence we feel the force of the prophet's words, "Not by might nor by power, but by My spirit, saith the Lord." But then there rises the question, How are these Divine influences to become powerful in us also? On the one hand, we are conscious that as we live involved or entangled in the worldly life, or in any form of external life around us, the spiritual part of us slumbers or is overlaid. It loses its practical power over our thought, our feeling, and our conduct--our lamp goes out. Whilst on the other hand we are conscious that the special form of Advent expectation which inspired and possessed the first generation of Christians is gone from us past recovery. We see clearly enough as we read the New Testament what that first generation expected, and how the expectation transformed their lives; but we see also that they were mistaken in their hope, and that God's providential plan proved to be far greater than their human conception of it. What, then, are our Advent hopes? There are two things which we should keep clear in our minds concerning them. One, that they must be based upon our feeling of the living influence of Christ and the working of the Holy Spirit; and the other is that the voices of the Spirit must come to us out of the needs of our own life and of the time we live in if they are to lead us to practical issues. When we look out upon the world and its life we feel that Advent hopes must take some new form if they are to preserve reality and to be fulfilled. We see decaying faith in some quarters, and selfishness growing where faith decays; we see ignorance and want and all their crop of sin and misery deep-rooted in the life of every city; and the prospect which these things suggest, the problems that meet us as we think of them, might well fill us with misgiving. And they would indeed do so were it not for the fact that the revelation of such things brings with it another revelation also; it seizes on men's souls and stirs them as with a Divine summons. And thus we have these hopeful signs for the future rising around us, even where things look darkest, that the great problems of humanity are felt in our day to be above all things its social and religious problems. And seeing that the aspirations of the time--the feelings, the purposes, the aims, and hopes that lift men--grow out of the needs of the time and the problems of its life, we look forward--we have good ground for looking forward--to a generation of men who shall be distinguished by religious earnestness and by social enthusiasm. But if this be so, what will your share be in this coming life? The Spirit of God, as we now understand it, comes to us with calls of this kind. If you would hasten the Advent of Christ in your own soul and in the souls of others, you must discard selfishness, you must rise above self- indulgence, you must prepare to merge yourself in the social life, for the social good; seeing that the growth of this good is the only sure and certain sign of the coming of the Lord. So, then, the Angel of the Advent is thus calling us. The future before you is big with social and religious issues, and the Spirit of Christ is brooding over it, and you and such as you are to be His chosen instruments in helping forward these issues. XVIII. SPIRITUAL POWER. "And behold I send _the promise of My Father upon you_; but tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem until ye be _endued with power from on high_."--ST. LUKE xxiv. 49. "Ye shall receive _power_, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you."--ACTS i. 8. To-day we are celebrating the last of the series of historical festivals which mark the springtime of our Christian year. And without this one the rest would leave us with a sense of incompleteness; for we should be without its gift of the abiding and indwelling Spirit, and the fulfilment of the last promise. What, then, are we learning of its practical lessons, and gathering into our life? We have read the Pentecostal narrative, and others that illustrate it. We have sung Pentecostal hymns. We have joined in special prayer for the light of the Holy Spirit to shine in our hearts, giving us a right judgment; and if we are led to ask, "To what purpose is all this?" the answer is to be seen in the texts I have just read to you, the burden of which is the gift of power from on high. Do we not recognise this as the end of the New Testament revelation? And do we not acknowledge that this revelation fails, so far as we are concerned, if it gives us no such _power_? It is, indeed, in considering this power of the Spirit that we touch to the quick the real influence of religion in the practical life of men; for experience shows that it is possible for a man to be endowed with almost every other gift and yet to lack this one--this indwelling gift of the Holy Ghost the Comforter. Our life is filled with almost everything we could ask or require to enlighten us or to guide and direct, and yet it fails sometimes. It may be failing in some of us here to-day, just from want of this Divine spark, this influence of a Spirit from above taking up His abode in us, burning and shining in our hearts so as to purge our affections from sinful taint and purify our tastes, lifting up and enlarging our capacities, and rousing our energies--in one word, fusing all our life into a new form with its refining power. And the question of all questions for each of us to consider is, "How am I to make my life the home and embodiment of this power from above?" If we turn to our Lord's own example, or to the life of Paul or any other of His followers, or to any life we have known and felt to breathe around it this same power of the Spirit, some things become at once very obvious and clear to us. That supreme example and those lives declare that whoever desires to have his soul purified and invigorated, to be charged with this Divine electric influence, must have something of separateness and independence in his life; he must feel himself as not merely one of a crowd moved by the desires, aims, hopes, tastes, and ambitions which may chance to prevail around him, but as a separate soul in direct communion with the Spirit of God. But if we are to realise this in our own life, it means that our times of daily prayer, whether in private or in public, are times at which we lay open our secret life to the Divine presence and influence; it means that we give some real thought and meditation to this presence of God in our life, and that we thus feed our souls continually on wholesome spiritual food. It is in this way that men's lives become in a real sense the temples of the Holy Spirit, and the influences of sin fall away from them. But the hindrances that are always acting to undermine or destroy any such spiritual power in us are manifold, and seldom far away from our life. The world outside is always with us and acting in this way, distracting thought, setting up its own standards, drawing us into its channels, and deadening the Spirit in us. This is one of the inevitable conditions of life as you will have to live it, and the man who is in earnest recognises it as a paramount reason why he should never drop out of his personal practice the habit of separate prayer and communion with God. Or again, we may, and often do, let these hindrances grow up within us through our own fault, and quite apart from any active influences of the outer world. We contract a dulness of spirit, so that spiritual things have no interest and faith has no living power in the heart; and all this very often not because any person, or anything outside of us, can be said to have led us away and entangled us, but simply because we have taken no pains to keep our life within the range of spiritual influences; we have let prayer slip out of it; we have lived in no spiritual companionship; we have done nothing to keep our soul alive in us. This is how men choose the lower life, and surrender their birthright out of pure inertia, so that they lose their spiritual capacity. But worst of all hindrances to the indwelling of God's Holy Spirit in any life is the harbouring of sensual appetite or craving, passion, or indulgence. No man can expect the Holy Spirit of God to make its home in such unclean company. It is on this account that there is nothing which so soon grows to depraved habit, to God-abandoned state, as sensual appetite; nothing which so rapidly dulls the higher affections in the heart and saps all the finer elements of life. Therefore, when we are thinking of God's gift of the Holy Ghost, and of spiritual power as the saving and uplifting influence in our soul, we do well to reflect a little on those hindrances which will be fatal to all such power in us, if they are allowed to take possession of our life and to prevail in it. We do well to reflect in this way, because such reflection will make us very careful against harbouring or encouraging any of these fatal hindrances, and careful also against any other form of spiritual waste. There is no surer guide to a right use of all liberty than this reflection upon the power of the indwelling spirit in us, and the things that add to it or destroy it. Recognising that this Spirit, which, in the language of your confirmation prayer, is the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and ghostly strength, the Spirit of knowledge and true godliness and of holy fear; recognising that this Spirit, with its sevenfold gifts, is the saving element in all free life, you begin to look with fresh feelings on all your leisure hours, on all your hours of liberty, when you are released from task work or supervision, when your life is what you yourselves are making it, and you begin to consider whether these times, as you spend them, are indeed times of growth or, it may be, of waste, times of genuine freedom or of slavery to some form of lower life. When you think of this Holy Spirit of God as a power in every good life, it becomes a very real question what and of what sort is the _power_ that is holding sway over you in your leisure hours. This is indeed a question which never sleeps, and to-day we ask, What is your Whitsuntide answer to it? If there be any one to whom such a question is not yet a matter of living concern, it is the purpose of this Pentecostal festival to rouse him to new thoughts about it. If there be any older person in this congregation who lets his years slip from him, not caring or forgetting the importance of it, and not striving to leaven all his hours of work or leisure with the thought of this indwelling Spirit from above; or if there should be any young boy who, in utter thoughtlessness, or from perversity or coarseness, or any induced depravity of taste, allows any evil spirit to bear rule in his life, our prayer for such an one to-day is that the baptism of fire may descend upon his soul, and the power of a new spirit be felt in it. And indeed there is not one of us but needs to come at such a time with this same prayer for his own life; for our own experience is too often very like the vision of Ezekiel. Under the influences that come between us and the Spirit of the living God, our soul is in continual danger of being like the prophet's valley of dry bones, which lay lifeless, unmoved, till the breath of the Lord breathed over them, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great army. So we pray that our life may prove responsive to these influences of the Pentecostal season. And the first response it gives is when it rises up in the consciousness of the Spirit of God as a living power in the heart, a power to drive out evil, and to inspire and strengthen us for what is good. And if, under the inspiring associations of this historic and holy day, you feel your soul touched with a new spirit or consciousness rising up in you from the grave of its own dead self to new desires and new thoughts, and a new sense of the living nearness of the Holy Ghost the Comforter, then you know--and you need no prophet to tell you--that the Pentecostal gift has not failed, and there is good hope that you will not spoil either your youth or your manhood with any form of ignoble life. XIX. SANCTIFIED FOR SERVICE. "We are labourers together with God; ye are God's husbandry; ye are God's building."--1 COR. iii. 9. In this passage St. Paul is rebuking the Corinthians for that spirit of party which was dividing them into followers of this or that teacher and so destroying their unity in Christ. You do not belong, he says, to Paul or to Apollos; _we_ have no claim upon you; ye are not to be called by _our_ name: you are _God's_ husbandry, and _God's_ building, not ours; we are but labourers in His service and ministers for your good. Therefore, see to it that you live as one society in Christ Jesus, discarding all divisions, factions, and party passions and watchwords, imbued with one spirit. It is a noble exhortation to unity of life and purpose; but we may notice in it more than this. As Paul himself disclaims all personal merit--as he presses it on their attention that neither is he that planteth anything nor he that watereth, but God that giveth the increase, he is unconsciously exhibiting to us an example of that rare humility which is characteristic of all the greatest and most effective workers; whilst in the vivid and expressive metaphors of my text--ye are God's husbandry, God's building--he makes us to feel the value and the dignity of each human soul. It would be interesting to dwell on these calls to unity of life in Christ, and the close connection between such unity and the spirit of humility; in fact, we might say, the absolute necessity of the spirit of humility and self-forgetfulness in individuals if there is to be unity in the society. And we might apply the thoughts with much profit to our own social relations, for they are never out of date; but I desire to turn to- day to that which is suggested by these descriptive metaphors, the value and dignity of each human life. St. Paul pressed it on these Corinthians that their souls were nothing less than the seed-field of which God Himself was the Husbandman, or the temple built by His hand; and they could hardly have listened to such language without being stirred to take care how they sowed in that field, or without feeling the consequent value of their life in the sight of God. If they were thus the objects of the Divine care they could not be thought of as insignificant units in a crowded city; or as living an obscure life which was of no particular importance, as they might otherwise have been tempted to fancy, as we are still sometimes tempted to think about an individual life. This picture of each life amongst us in its relation to God, as His seed-field or His temple, is a continual reminder that where a human soul is concerned there is no such thing as insignificance or obscurity. As St. Paul thought of that little company--a company small and obscure to the outward eye--what he saw in them was the temple of the Holy Ghost, and the spiritual life that was breathing there was a Divine life; and this intense conviction of the value of each soul and each society and its consequent sanctity was a never-failing inspiration to him. Through it he saw in every one who listened to his words, as he went from city to city, a man created and endowed with a Divine mission and Divine capacity, if they could only be roused. It transformed every soul that crossed his path, so that he looked on life with new eyes. The common crowd had a new interest for him, the suffering poor, the downtrodden slave, the heathen in his blindness, the degraded sinner. And it has been so with all the great servants of God; out of this feeling the love of souls has grown in men. But this feeling of the value of each individual life, because of the Divine element and presence in it, is a peculiar gift of the Christian revelation. In the ancient pagan world a man's life was of little account; it is out of the Bible that this new thought has come that every soul has in it an indefinite element of Divine possibilities, and is therefore of value in the sight of God. It is by virtue of this contribution to our thought that the Bible is truly described as the Great Charter of human rights, and as the source of the great stream of charity and self-sacrifice, of that enthusiasm of humanity which more than all else separates and distinguishes our life from that of heathen antiquity. It would indeed be difficult to point to any one single thing which makes so great a difference between the quality of one man's life and another's as the presence or absence of this feeling about the value, the possibilities, the sanctity of each individual soul. "Let man estimate himself," said Pascal, "let him estimate himself at his true value, honour himself in his capacities, and despise himself in his neglect of those capacities." Yes, if a man is once brought to this condition that he feels the greatness of the ends for which God has made him, and that he estimates his life by the possibilities of growth that are in it, and by the thought of the Divine influences that work in it; and if he despises himself for neglect of these capacities or possibilities and of these influences, he has awoke to a sense of the first word of Christ and His Apostles. Your soul is God's seed-field, God's building; we are labourers together with God. Such a description of each individual life is very significant everywhere, and not least in such a society as ours. To us who are here in this society as masters they are just a parable of our own life; setting forth to each of us what should be his estimate of his own work and aim and purpose, exhibiting to him his field of work with the Divine light on it, and interpreting to him his own endeavours as a fellow-labourer with God, hoping to contribute in some degree towards the filling in and completing that Divine plan, that ideal picture of the life of every one of you which is in the heavens, and which in imagination he sees as a thing some day to be realised, and the realisation of which, or its failure, may largely depend on his own share in our life and work. It is this feeling that every heart contains the germ of some perfection that makes our life so profoundly interesting, and, it may be added, our responsibilities for the cultivation or neglect of any such germ or capacity so serious and engrossing. But to you, too, these apostolic suggestions about the Divine influences at work in each heart, and the value of each life in God's sight, and the Divine voices claiming to be heard in it, should be quite as stimulative as they are to us. They have in them the germ of all striving after purity and goodness, and of all hatred of sin, and enthusiasm for the uplifting of social life. The words of Paul to his Corinthian converts may furnish you with new interpretations of your own daily life and duty. If they were God's husbandry, or God's building, are not you? If the Spirit of God dwelt in them, how does He not dwell likewise in you? striving for your growth in holiness and good purpose, and for your salvation from sin and its defilements, as he strove for theirs? And if it was good for every man in that Corinthian community to be warned how he built upon the foundation of life that had been laid in Christ; if it was good for them to be reminded that every man's work would be made manifest, and that the fire would try it, of what sort it was; it is good also for us, masters and boys alike, to remember that we are living under the same law, and that we should take care lest haply we be found to be working against God. That Epistle of St. Paul's was written in pain and anguish of heart. The seeds of Christian life which he had sown among them, the purifying influences of the Holy Spirit which were working among them through him and his fellow-labourers, all these ought to have produced fruits easily described, such as peace and love, and purity, and good works; but instead of these, and threatening their destruction, there had sprung up dissension and strife, party spirit, self-conceit, and gross sins which I need not name. In all this there was grief, disappointment, bitterness; for did they not prove that his work was threatened with failure? Yet in all that storm of feeling his chief exhortation is this reminder of the dignity of their calling. In the midst of all their sin and failure, though he does not spare rebuke and warning, he always aims at inspiring them by uplifting. And we know that this is the true method, because there is nothing which exercises an influence so strong to uplift and purify as the feeling of our kinship with the life above us, and that we are degrading our life when we forget this or ignore it. And herein is the value of this word of his that God is dwelling and working in us. "Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, that the Holy Ghost dwelleth in you, and that God's temple is holy? and if any man destroy the temple of God, him shall God destroy." Let us then begin again our common life with a determination to bear in mind the possibilities and the sanctity of each separate soul that comes amongst us. Living in crowds, we are apt to forget this; and, forgetting it, some treat their own souls as if they were of no value, and some the souls of others, and so the work of sin and waste goes on from generation to generation. But in our best moments, in our times of serious thought, if we have been once enlightened, we can never again cease to feel the dignity and the value of each human life. When we think of God's care for us we feel it; when we think of the possibilities He has ordained for us we feel it; when we think of the endless life that lies before us we feel it; above all, we never fail to feel it when our thoughts revert to any life that has been snatched away from us. Some of you are thinking to-day of the master whose home is darkened by the presence of the angel of death. You think of her whom God has taken, who was moving among you not so long ago, as your tender, considerate, and helpful friend. It may be that you were not uninfluenced by her self-devotion and holiness. When you think of such an one you feel no doubt about the value and the sanctity of each human life. Well, then, transfer this feeling to your own life, or to the life of the boy who sits beside you, or who lives as your companion. In the purpose of our common Father, your lives also are destined for holy uses. To remember this may be a safeguard against temptation or sinful habit; it may inspire you with a new feeling of the value of _all_ the lives around you, and a new sense of the duty you owe to the good life of this society in which God has placed you, that you may prove a vessel of honour sanctified for His service. XX. HE THAT OVERCOMETH. "He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be My son."--REVELATION xxi. 7. Year by year as at this time, when the week of our Saviour's Passion and Death is just in front of us, and the shadow of His Cross is falling over us, one generation after another of the boys of this school gather here, and in the face of the congregation, young and old, they take upon them the vows of a Christian life. So we met last Thursday, and your vow is still fresh upon a great many of you, as indeed it can hardly fail to be fresh in the memory of every one in this congregation who has ever taken it. Let us pause for a moment and repeat its plain words. You have declared your faith in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, the Father, the Redeemer, the Sanctifier of your life. You have vowed that you renounce the devil and his works, that you renounce covetous desires, that you renounce the carnal desires of the flesh, so that you will not follow nor be led by them. And you have vowed that you will keep God's holy will and commandments, and walk in them all the days of your life. And you take this upon you, let us hope, in sincerity and honesty of purpose. And, if so, the text I have read to you declares God's promise, if you persevere, just as another text in the same chapter declares that into the City of God there shall not enter anything that defileth or worketh abomination or maketh a lie. This, then, is the promise--"He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be My son." But as we think of this and look forward, we have to remember that this life to which you are dedicated is not an easy matter. If you are to succeed in it, you have to think of it always as a life under a vow, as in fact a consecrated life, consecrated by your own promise and profession. And this is a great safeguard if you bear it always in mind. It is indeed the first condition of safety from the attacks and the impulses of sin, this consciousness which you will carry about with you, that you are self-dedicated--that there was a day on which you said "I will"--so that if you are to be true to your profession and declared purpose, you will strive to keep near to God in the spirit, and you will have no dealings with the devil and his works, and you will resist all the degrading solicitations of the flesh, and will live in the atmosphere of things that are pure and of good report. To have conceived such a purpose as this, to have opened your heart to its influence, to have lived in it even for a little while, to have felt its purifying and strengthening breath upon your soul even for a few weeks, may be enough, as some of you know very well, to lift your life up to a new level, so that it becomes and is felt by you to be a quite different life from what you lived before--a life of new thoughts, of new notions about what is good or what is evil, about the degrading character of sin and the misery and hatefulness of it, as also about the happiness of a life that is inspired by good aims and purposes, and is free from a sense of God's wrath upon you for some low standard of conduct, or some sinful appetite or passion. If you have once felt the influence of this change in your heart, you know the difference henceforth between the higher life and the lower, the life that is clinging to God, however feebly, and is in the way of salvation, and the life of sin which will inevitably end in degradation and in death. But this life in Christ to which you are dedicated is not an easy one; let us not suppose it. It is a noble life, and every one who strives to live it is doing something to ennoble his society; but it is not an easy life. It is never so represented to us in the Bible. There is a sense no doubt in which our Lord invites us to see how easy is His yoke compared with the yoke of sin--but He Himself calls upon every believer to take up his cross and follow Him. That call may bring to any of us not peace but a sword. St. Paul sets the Christian life before us as a race to be run with patience; as a conflict which will sometimes be very hard. In St. James we see it as the discipline of sore temptation, and in St. Peter it is the fiery trial that is to try us. And again, in the Revelation of St. John, we have this picture of blessing only to those that endure, and to those who have not defiled their garments, and those who have come through great tribulation. And all our personal experience confirms this language of Holy Scripture, reminding us, as it does, how hard it is for an individual to keep in the narrow way of the spotless Christian life, and how it is still harder to stamp the mark of Christian purpose upon a society. Yet these are the two things to which God is calling us. These you have in fact vowed that you will strive after; and if you are unfaithful in either respect, if you give up your effort for an easy, drifting life, you are letting go your confirmation vows; and whereas you were intended to be the salt of your society, your salt will lose its savour. To consider this just now may save some of you from discouragement and some from waste and failure. Men are stronger to meet their difficulties if they know that they have to meet them or else to fail and sink. And so it will be with you. You will be more likely to go forward strong in earnest purpose, strong in the strength which God supplies, if you bear it in mind that, as St. Paul would have expressed it, we are appointed unto these trials; and that a soldier of Christ must expect to have to endure hardness; and in fact that it is a law of our spiritual life that one of the chief roots of all growth in strength and goodness is suffering. We grow through trial and suffering to true manhood in Christ. So, if you look at your own life and experience, you will find that some suffer through a sore struggle with their own temptations, or their own weaknesses--their desires, their appetites, their fears, or the habits they have contracted, and their struggle may be so hard that it needs all the grace of God to keep them firm in their purpose. Some again suffer not from internal but from external hindrances. Companions may be against them, or a low public opinion may be against them, and they may feel as if they could hardly stand firm in isolation, or under suspicion, or mockery, or enmity; and some may suffer because the conscience around them is depraved, and they feel too weak to fight against it, though they know and acknowledge its depravity. But however hard may be the fight there should be no discouragement, if only you are able still to say in all honesty that you are holding fast to the good purpose which you uttered in your confirmation vows. Two quite simple warnings may sometimes do us great service--one, is that we are very apt to exaggerate the forces against us. They seem very strong when we are feeling weak; but they sometimes break up and disappear if they are met with a little courage. And the other warning is this, that we sometimes let ourselves sink and drift into sinful ways or moral cowardice, by neglecting the helps which God gives us for the strengthening of a good life in us. Thus if we neglect real prayer, or do not seek the support of good companionship, if we take no pains to live in a good atmosphere and amidst good surroundings, if there is little of devout thought or habitual worship in our life and still less of Holy Communion, if we thus allow ourselves to drift out of the range of the higher moral and spiritual influences, our vows are forgotten and our good purposes fade away, our will becomes weak, and the world with all its temptations is very likely to overcome us. Feeling the infinite issues that hang on such considerations as these, let us carry about with us the inspiring and invigorating call and the promise contained in the text with which I began this sermon--"He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be My son." 
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44071	----	Transcribers Note: The typesetting in the book was poor, all errors have been retained as printed. [Illustration: G. L. Brown. S. Schoff. LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS AT PLIMOUTH 11th. DEC. 1620.] THE SIN AND DANGER OF SELF-LOVE DESCRIBED, IN A SERMON PREACHED AT PLYMOUTH, IN NEW-ENGLAND, 1621, BY ROBERT CUSHMAN. WITH A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY CHARLES EWER, AND FOR SALE BY CROCKER & BREWSTER, SAMUEL G. DRAKE, LITTLE & BROWN, JAMES MUNROE & COMPANY, BENJAMIN PERKINS, AND JAMES LORING. DEC. 22, 1846. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH, BY HON. JOHN DAVIS, LATE JUDGE OF THE U. S. DISTRICT COURT, MASSACHUSETTS DISTRICT. ROBERT CUSHMAN, the author of the preceding discourse, was one of the most distinguished characters among that collection of worthies, who quitted England on account of their religious difficulties, and settled with Mr. _John Robinson_, their pastor in the city of Leyden, in Holland, in the year 1609. Proposing afterwards a removal to America in the year 1617, Mr. Cushman and Mr. John Carver, (afterwards the first Governor of New-Plymouth) were sent over to England, as their agents, to agree with the Virginia Company for a settlement, and to obtain, if possible, a grant of liberty of conscience in their intended plantation, from King James. From this negotiation though conducted on their part with great discretion and ability, they returned unsuccessful to Leyden, in May 1618. They met with no difficulty indeed with the Virginia Company, who were willing to grant them sufficient territory, with as ample privileges as they could bestow: but the pragmatical James, the pretended vicegerent of the Deity, refused to grant them that liberty in religious matters, which was their principal object--when this persevering people finally determined to transport themselves to this country, relying upon James's promise that he would _connive_ at, though not expressly _tolerate_ them; Mr. Cushman was again dispatched to England in February 1619, with Mr. William Bradford, another of the company, to agree with the Virginia Company on the terms of their removal and settlement. After much difficulty and delay, they obtained a patent in the September following, upon which part of the Church at Leyden, with their Elder Mr. Brewster determined to transport themselves as soon as possible. Mr. Cushman was one of the agents in England to procure money, shipping and other necessaries for the voyage, and finally embarked with them at South-Hampton, August 5th, 1620. But the ship, in which he sailed, proving leaky, and after twice putting into port to repair, being finally condemned as unfit to perform the voyage, Mr. Cushman with his family, and a number of others were obliged, though reluctantly, to relinquish the voyage for that time and returned to London. Those in the other ship proceeded and made their final settlement at Plymouth in December 1620, where Mr. Cushman also arrived in the ship Fortune from London, on the 10th of November 1621, but took passage in the same ship back again, pursuant to the directions of the merchant adventurers in London, (who fitted out the ship and by whose assistance the first settlers were transported) to give them an account of the plantation.[A] He sailed from Plymouth December 13th, 1621, and arriving on the coast of England, the ship, with a cargo, valued at 500l. sterling, was taken by the French. Mr. Cushman, with the crew, was carried into France; but arrived in London in the February following. During his short residence at Plymouth, though a mere lay character, he delivered the preceding discourse, which was printed in London in 1622, and afterwards re-printed in Boston in 1724. And though his name is not prefixed to either edition, yet unquestionable tradition renders it certain that he was the author, and even transmits to us a knowledge of the spot where it was delivered. Mr. Cushman, though he constantly corresponded with his friends here, and was very serviceable to their interest in London--never returned to the country again, but while preparing for it was removed to a better, in the year 1626. The news of his death and Mr. Robinson's arrived at the same time at Plymouth, by Captain Standish, and seem to have been equally lamented by their bereaved and suffering friends there. He was zealously engaged in the prosperity of the plantation, a man of activity and enterprise, well versed in business, respectable in point of intellectual abilities, well accomplished in scriptural knowledge, an unaffected professor, and a steady sincere practiser of religion. The design of the following discourse was to keep up the noble flow of public spirit, which perhaps began then to abate, but which was necessary for their preservation and security. [Footnote A: It seems to be a mistaken idea that Mr. Cushman started in the smaller vessel, which put back on account of its proving leaky. This mistake has arisen from the fact that Mr. C. was left in England in 1620, and did not come over in the Mayflower with the first emigrants. The fact is that Mr. Cushman procured 'the larger vessel,' the Mayflower, and its pilot at London and left in that vessel; but in consequence of the unsoundness of the smaller vessel, the Speedwell, it became necessary that part of the pilgrims should be left behind, and consequently Mr. Cushman, whom Gov. Bradford called 'the right hand with the adventurers,' and who 'for divers years had managed all our business with them to our great advantage,' was selected as one who would be best able to keep together that portion of the flock left behind. Although Mr. Cushman did not come over in the Mayflower, yet such was the respect for him among those who did come, that his name is placed at the head of those who came in that ship, in the allotment of land at a time when he was not in New England. N. B. S.] After the death of Mr. Cushman, his family came over to New England. His son, Thomas Cushman, succeeded Mr. Brewster, as ruling elder of the Church of Plymouth, being ordained to that office in 1649. He was a man of good gifts, and frequently assisted in carrying on the public worship, preaching, and catechising. For it was one professed principle of that Church, in its first formation, 'to choose none for governing Elders, but such as were able to teach.' He continued in this office till he died, in 1691, in the eighty-fourth year of his age. LETTER FROM JUDGE DAVIS. BOSTON, DEC. 21, 1846. DEAR SIR: Having communicated to me your intention of publishing a new edition of Robert Cushman's memorable discourse, delivered in Plymouth, 1621, together with the memoir of the author, which I prepared for the edition printed by Nathaniel Coverly in Plymouth, in 1785; I take the liberty to advise you to follow for your purpose that copy of the memoir which was inserted by the Rev. Dr. Belknap in the second volume of his American Biography, with the addition of some particulars respecting the family, especially of elder Thomas Cushman, son of Robert Cushman, and who, like his father, was held in high esteem by all his cotemporaries. The original memoir prepared for the Plymouth edition, was anonymous. My highly esteemed friend the Rev. Dr. Belknap, in giving it a place in his valuable work was pleased to announce the name of the writer. The remarks on the discourse originally accompanying the memoir, were prompted by views supposed to have been adopted by the Plymouth pioneers respecting property and civil polity, in which I was afterwards convinced I had made a mistake. I had adopted an opinion corresponding with that of Dr. Robertson and other writers, that misguided by their religious theories and in imitation of the primitive christians, they voluntarily threw all their property into a common stock. And that their difficulties and embarrassments were greatly enhanced by adopting, and perseveringly adhering to an impracticable system. But further inquiry induced the conviction that this conjecture was erroneous, and that the severe pressure they experienced, was in a great degree produced by the operation of their articles of agreement with the adventurers in England, which established a community of interest for seven years, and prevented the holding in severalty the fruits of their industry and enterprise. These views of the subject, and an acknowledgement of my previous mistake, were expressed in a discourse delivered at Plymouth, in the year 1800, on the anniversary of the landing of the fathers. The Rev. Mr. Abbot of Beverly, afterwards, on a like occasion, without any knowledge of the contents of that discourse, which was not published, was led in his investigation of the subject, into a similar conclusion, and fully vindicated the pilgrims from the censures which had been expressed relative to this branch of their proceedings. The onerous connection with the merchant adventurers remained until 1627, when an amicable and satisfactory settlement was made with them by a purchase of all their interest in the concern. The sum contracted to be given for this purchase, was 1800 pounds sterling, payable by instalments of 200 pounds annually. Thus says Governor Bradford in one of his letters: "All now is become our own, as we say in the proverb, when our debts are paid. And doubtless this was a great mercy of God unto us, and a great means of peace and better subsistence, and wholly dashed all the plots and devices of our enemies, both there and here, who daily expected our ruin, dispersion and utter subversion by the same; but their hopes were thus far prevented though with great care and labor, we were left to struggle with the payment of the money." Under these impressions I think it will be well for you to omit the insertion of the remarks above mentioned on Mr. Cushman's discourse. That discourse is a precious relic of ancient times, the sound sense, good advice, and pious spirit, which it manifests, will, it may be hoped, now, and in all future time, meet with approval and beneficial acceptance in our community. The information contained in the note of your correspondent respecting Mr. Cushman's embarcation, and the assignment of land made to him in the colony, is believed to be correct. _Respectfully Your Ob't. Servant_, J. DAVIS. To CHARLES EWER, Esq. TO HIS LOVING FRIENDS THE ADVENTURERS FOR NEW-ENGLAND. TOGETHER WITH ALL WELL-WILLERS, AND WELL-WISHERS THEREUNTO, GRACE AND PEACE, &C. NEW-ENGLAND, so called, not only (to avoid novelties) because Captain _Smith_ hath so entitled it in his Description, but because of the resemblance that is in it, of _England_ the native soil of Englishmen; it being much what the same for heat and cold in Summer and Winter, it being champaign ground, but no high mountains, somewhat like the soil in _Kent_ and _Essex_; full of dales, and meadow ground, full of rivers and sweet springs, as _England_ is. But principally, so far as we can yet find, it is an island, and near about the quantity of _England_, being cut out from the main land in _America_, as _England_ is from the main of _Europe_, by a great arm of the sea, which entereth in forty degrees, and runneth up North West and by West, and goeth out either into the South-Sea, or else into the Bay of _Canada_. The certainty whereof, and secrets of which, we have not yet so found as that as eye-witnesses we can make narration thereof, but if God give time and means, we shall, ere long, discover both the extent of that river, together with the secrets thereof; and so try what territories, habitations, or commodities, may be found, either in it, or about it. It pertaineth not to my purpose to speak any thing either in praise, or dispraise of the country; so it is by God's Providence, that a few of us are there planted to our content, and have with great charge and difficulty attained quiet and competent dwellings there. And thus much I will say for the satisfaction of such as have any thought of going hither to inhabit? That for men which have a large heart, and look after great riches, ease, pleasures, dainties, and jollity in this world (except they will live by other men's sweat, or have great riches) I would not advise them to come there, for as yet the country will afford no such matters: But if there be any who are content to lay out their estates, spend their time, labors, and endeavors, for the benefit of them that shall come after, and in desire to further the gospel among those poor heathens, quietly contenting themselves with such hardship and difficulties, as by God's Providence shall fall upon them, being yet young, and in their strength, such men I would advise and encourage to go, for their ends cannot fail them. And if it should please God to punish his people in the Christian countries of _Europe_, (for their coldness, carnality, wanton abuse of the Gospel, contention, &c.) either by Turkish slavery, or by popish tyranny which God forbid, yet if the time be come, or shall come (as who knoweth) when Satan shall be let loose to cast out his floods against them, (_Rev._ 12. 14. 15.) here is a way opened for such as have wings to fly into this wilderness; and as by the dispersion of the Jewish church through persecution, the Lord brought in the fulness of the Gentiles, (_Act._ 11. 20, 21.) so who knoweth, whether now by tyranny and affliction, he suffereth to come upon them, he will not by little and little chase them even amongst the heathens, that so a light may rise up in the dark, (_Luke_ 2. 32.) and the kingdom of Heaven be taken from them which now have it, and given to a people that shall bring forth the fruit of it. (_Mat._ 21. 43.) This I leave to the judgment of the godly wise, being neither prophet nor son of a prophet, (_Amos_ 7. 14.) but considering God's dealing of old, (_2 Kings_ 17, 23.) and seeing the name of Christian to be very great, but the true nature thereof almost quite lost in all degrees and sects, I cannot think but that there is some judgment not far off, and that God will shortly, even of stones, raise up children unto _Abraham_. (_Mat._ 3. 5.) And who so rightly considereth what manner of entrance, abiding, and proceedings, we have had among these poor heathens since we came hither, will easily think, that God has some great work to do towards them. They were wont to be the most cruel and treacherous people in all these parts, even like lions, but to us they have been like lambs, so kind, so submissive, and trusty, as a man may truly say, many christians are not so kind, nor sincere. They were very much wasted of late, by reason of a great mortality that fell amongst them three years since, which together with their own civil dissentions and bloody wars, hath so wasted them, as I think the twentieth person is scarce left alive, and those that are left, have their courage much abated, and their countenance is dejected, and they seem as a people affrighted. And though when we came first into the Country, we were few, and many of us were sick, and many died by reason of the cold and wet, it being the depth of winter, and we having no houses, nor shelter, yet when there was not six able persons among us, and that they came daily to us by hundreds, with their _sachems_ or _kings_, and might in one hour have made a dispatch of us, yet such a fear was upon them, as that they never offered us the least injury in word or deed. And by reason of one _Tisquanto_, that lives amongst us, that can speak English, we have daily commerce with their kings, and can know what is done or intended towards us among the savages; also we can acquaint them with our courses and purposes, both human and religious. And the greatest commander of the country, called _Massasoit_, cometh often to visit us, tho' he lives 50 miles from us, often sends us presents, he having with many other of their governors, promised, yea, subscribed obedience to our sovereign Lord King James, and for his cause to spend both strength and life. And we for our parts, through God's grace, have with that equity, justice, and compassion, carried ourselves towards them, as that they have received much favor, help, and aid from us, but never the least injury or wrong by us.[A] We found the place where we live empty, the people being all dead and gone away, and none living near by 8 or 10 miles; and though in the time of some hardship we found (travelling abroad) near 8 bushels of corn hid up in a cave, and knew no owners of it, yet afterwards hearing of the owners of it, we gave them (in their estimation) double the value of it. Our care hath been to maintain peace amongst them, and have always set ourselves against such of them as used any rebellion, or treachery against their governors, and not only threatened such, but in some sort paid them their due deserts; and when any of them are in want, as often they are in the winter, when their corn is done, we supply them to our power, and have them in our houses eating and drinking, and warming themselves, which thing (though it be something a trouble to us) yet because they should see and take knowledge of our labors, order and diligence, both for this life and a better, we are content to bear it, and we find in many of them, especially, of the younger sort, such a tractable disposition, both to religion and humanity, as that if we had means to apparel them, and wholly to retain them with us (as their desire is) they would doubtless in time prove serviceable to God and man, and if ever God send us means we will bring up hundreds of their children, both to labor and learning. [Footnote A: They offer us to dwell where we will.] But leaving to speak of them till a further occasion be offered; if any shall marvel at the publishing of this treatise in _England_, seeing there is no want of good books, but rather want of men to use good books, let them know, that the especial end is, that we may keep those motives in memory for ourselves, and those that shall come after, to be a remedy against self love the bane of all societies. And that we also might testify to our Christian countrymen, who judge diversly of us, that though we be in a heathen country, yet the grace of Christ is not quenched in us, but we still hold and teach the same points of faith, mortification, and sanctification, which we have heard and learned, in a most ample and large manner in our own country. If any shall think it too rude and unlearned for this curious age, let them know, that to paint out the Gospel in plain and flat English, amongst a company of plain Englishmen (as we are) is the best and most profitablest teaching; and we will study plainness, not curiosity, neither in things human, nor heavenly. If any error or unsoundness be in it, (as who knoweth) impute it to that frail man which endited it, which professeth to know nothing as he ought to know it. I have not set down my name, partly because I seek no name, and principally, because I would have nothing esteemed by names, for I see a number of evils to arise through names, when the persons are either famous, or infamous, and God and man is often injured; if any good or profit arise to thee in the receiving of it, give God the praise and esteem me as a son of _Adam_, subject to all such frailties as other men are. And you my loving friends the adventurers to this plantation; as your care has been, first to settle religion here, before either profit or popularity, so I pray you, go on, to do it much more, and be careful to send godly men, though they want some of that worldly policy which this world hath in her own generation, and so though you lose, the Lord shall gain. I rejoice greatly in your free and ready minds to your powers, yea, and beyond your powers to further this work, that you thus honor God with your riches, and I trust you shall be repayed again double and treble in this world, yea, and the memory of this action shall never die, but above all adding unto this (as I trust you do) like freeness in all other God's services both at home and abroad, you shall find reward with God, ten thousand-fold surpassing all that you can do or think; be not therefore discouraged, for no labor is lost, nor money spent which is bestowed for God, your ends were good, your success is good, and your profit is coming, even in this life, and in the life to come much more: and what shall I say now, a word to men of understanding sufficeth, pardon I pray you my boldness, read over the ensuing treatise, and judge wisely of the poor weakling, and the Lord, the God of land and sea, stretch out his arm of protection over you and us, and over all our lawful and good enterprizes, either this, or any other way. _Plymouth in New-England, December 12, 1621._ A SERMON _Preached at_ PLYMOUTH, _in_ New England, 1621. 1 CORINTHIANS, 10. 24. LET NO MAN SEEK HIS OWN: BUT EVERY MAN ANOTHER'S WEALTH. The occasion of these words of the Apostle _Paul_, was because of the abuses which were in the Church of _Corinth_. Which abuses arose chiefly through swelling pride, self-love and conceitedness, for although this church was planted by _Paul_ and watered by _Apollos_, and much increased by the Lord; yet the sower of tares was not wanting to stir up evil workers and fleshly minded hypocrites, under a shew of godliness, and with angel-like holiness in appearance, to creep in amongst them to disturb their peace, try their soundness, and prove their constancy. And this the Apostle complains of very often: as first, in their carnal divisions, chap. 1. then in their extolling their eloquent teachers, and despising _Paul_, chap. 4. Then in their offensive going to Law, before the heathen judges, chap. 6. Then in eating things offered to idols, to the destroying of the tender consciences of their brethren, chap. 8. Then in their insatiable love feasts, in the time and place of their church meetings, the rich which could together feed to fulness, despising and contemning the poor, that had not to lay it on as they had, chap. 11. Finally in both the epistles, he very often nippeth them for their pride, and self-love, straitness and censoriousness, so that in the last chapter he willeth them again and again to prove, try and examine themselves, to see whether Christ were in them or not, for howsoever many of them seemed, as thousands do at this day to soar aloft, and go with full sail to Heaven: yet as men that row in boats, set their faces one way, when yet their whole body goeth apace another way: so there are many which set such a face upon religion, and have their mouth full of great swelling words: as if they would even blow open the doors of heaven, despising all humble minded and broken-hearted people, as weak, simple, sottish, &c. when yet notwithstanding, these blusterers, which seem to go so fast, and leave all others behind them, if like these glosing _Corinthians_, they carry affectedly their own glory with them, and seem thus to stand for the glory of God. What do they else but join flesh to spirit, serving not God for nought, but for wages, and so serving their bellies, whose end will be damnation, except a speedy and sound remedy be thought of, which remedy is even that which our Saviour teacheth the rich young gallant, and which _Paul_ here prescribeth, in willing them not to seek their own, but every man another's wealth, which physic is as terrible to carnal professors, as abstinence from drink is to a man that hath the dropsy; and it is a sure note, that a man is sick of this disease of self-love, if this be grievous to him, as appeareth in the man whom Christ bid sell that he had, and he went away very sorrowful, yet surely this vein must be pricked, and this humor let out, else it will spoil all, it will infect both soul and body, yea, and the contagion of it is such (as we shall see anon) as will even hazard the welfare of that society where self seekers and self lovers are. As God then did direct this Apostle to lay down this brief direction as a remedy for that evil in _Corinth_, so you may think it is by God's special providence, that I am now to speak unto you from this text: and say in your hearts, surely something is amiss this way: let us know it and amend it. The parts of this text are two. 1. A _Dehortation_. 2. An _Exhortation_. The Dehortation, _Let no man seek his own_. The Exhortation, _But every man another's wealth_. In handling of which, I will first, open the words. Secondly, gather the doctrine. Thirdly illustrate the doctrine by scriptures, experience and reasons. Fourthly apply the same, to every one his portion. The proper drift of the Apostle here is not to tax the _Corinthians_, for seeking their own evil ends in evil actions, but for aiming at themselves, and their own benefits in actions lawful, and that appeareth in the former verse, where he saith, _All things are lawful, &c._ viz. all such things as now we speak of, to eat any of God's creatures, offered to idols or not, to feast and be merry together, to shew love and kindness to this or that person, &c. but when by such means we seek ourselves, and have not a charitable loving and reverent regard of others, then they are unexpedient, unprofitable, yea unlawful, and must be forborne, and he that hath not learned to deny himself even the very use of lawful things, when it tendeth to the contempt, reproach, grief, offence and shame of his other brethren and associates, hath learned nothing aright, but is, apparently, a man that seeks himself, and against whom the Apostle here dealeth most properly. The manner of the speech, may seem as counsel left at liberty: as Mat. 27. 49. And in our ordinary speech, we think they be but weak charges, which are thus delivered, let a man do this, or let him do that. But we must learn the apostle's modesty, and know that whatsoever the terms seem to imply, yet even this and other the like in this epistle, are most absolute charges: as, _Let a man esteem of us, as the ministers of Christ_, _chap._ 41. That is, a man ought so to esteem of us. _Let a man examine himself_, _1 Cor._ 11. 28. That is, as if he said, a man must examine himself. _Let your women keep silence in the churches_, _1 Cor._ 14, 34. that is, they ought so to do. The meaning then summarily is, as if he said, the bane of all these mischiefs which arise among you is, that men are too cleaving to themselves and their own matters, and disregard and contemn all others: and therefore I charge you, let this self seeking be left off, and turn the stream another way, namely, seek the good of your brethren, please them, honor them, reverence them, for otherwise it will never go well amongst you. _Obj._ But doth not the Apostle elsewhere say? _That he, which careth not for his own, is worse than an infidel._ 1 _Tim._ 5. 8. _Ans._ True, but by (own) there, he meaneth properly, a man's kindred, and here by (own) he meaneth properly a man's self. Secondly, he there especially taxeth such as were negligent in their labors and callings, and so made themselves unable to give relief and entertainment to such poor widows and orphans as were of their own flesh and blood. Thirdly, be it so, that some man should even neglect his own self, his own wife, children, friends, &c. And give that he had to strangers, that were but some rare vice, in some one unnatural man, and if this vice slay a thousand, self-love slayeth ten thousands. And this the wisdom of God did well foresee, and hath set no caveats in the scriptures either to tax men, or forewarn them from loving others, neither saith God any where, let no man seek out the good of another, but let no man seek his own, and every where in the scriptures he hath set watch words against self good, self-profit, self-seeking, &c. And thus the sense being cleared, I come to the doctrine. Doct. 1. _All men are too apt and ready to seek themselves too much, and to prefer their own matters and causes beyond the due and lawful measure, even to excess and offence against God, yea danger of their own souls._ And this is true not only in wicked men which are given over of God to vile lusts, as _Absalom_ in getting favor in his father's court: _Jereboam_, in settling his kingdom fast in _Samaria_, _Ahab_ in vehement seeking _Naboth's_ vineyard, but men, otherwise godly, have through frailty been foiled herein, and many thousands which have a shew of godliness, are lovers of themselves: _David_ was about to seek himself when he was going to kill _Naball_: _Asa_ in putting _Hanani_ in prison: _Josiah_ when he would go to war with _Necho_, against the counsel of God, and reason; _Peter_ when he dissembled about the ceremonies of the law, yea and _Paul_ complains of all his followers (_Timothy_ excepted) that they sought their own too inordinately. * * * * * And why else are these caveats in the scriptures, but to warn the godly that they be not tainted herewith? as, _Look not every man on his own things, but on the things of another: Love seeketh not her own things. Be not desirous of vain glory, &c._ Philip. 2. 4. 1 Cor. 13. 6. Gal. 5. 26. Yea and doth not experience teach, that even amongst professors of religion, almost all the love and favor that is shewed unto others is with a secret aim at themselves, they will take pains to do a man good, provided that he will take twice so much for them, they will give a penny so as it may advantage them a pound, labor hard so as all the profit may come to themselves, else they are heartless and feeble. The vain and corrupt heart of man cannot better be resembled then by a belly-god, host, or innkeeper which welcometh his guests with smilings, and salutations, and a thousand welcomes, and rejoiceth greatly to have their company to dice, cards, eat, drink, and be merry, but should not the box be paid, the pot be filling, and the money telling, all this while, the epicure's joy would soon be turned into sorrow, and his smiles turned into frowns, and the door set open, and their absence craved: even so men blow the bellows hard, when they have an iron of their own a heating, work hard whilst their own house is in building, dig hard whilst their own garden is in planting, but is it so as the profit must go wholly or partly to others; their hands wax feeble, their hearts wax faint, they grow churlish, and give cross answers, like _Naball_, they are sour, discontent, and nothing will please them. And where is that man to be found, that will disperse abroad, and cast his bread upon the waters, that will lend, looking for nothing again, that will do all duties to other freely and cheerfully in conscience to God, and love unto men, without his close and secret ends or aiming at himself; such a man, out of doubt, is a black swan, a white crow almost, and yet such shall stand before God with boldness at the last day, when others which have sought themselves, though for love of themselves they have sought heaven, yea, and through self-love persuaded themselves they should find it, yet wanting love unto others, they will be found as sounding brass, and as a tinkling cimbal, and whilst they have neglected others, and not cared how others live, so as themselves may fare well, they will be found amongst them, that the Lord will say unto, _I know you not, depart ye cursed into everlasting fire_, Mat. 25. 41. 42. But that I may not walk in generalities, the particular ways by which men seek their own are these: First, such as are covetous, seek their own by seeking riches, wealth, money, as _Felix_ pretending love unto _Paul_, sent for him often, but it was in hope of money. Many there are who say, _who will shew us any good_, Psal. 4. 7. And pretend religion, as some of the Jews did the keeping of the Sabbath, which yet cried out, when will the Sabbath be done, that we may sell corn, and get gain; if a man can tell how to get gold out of a flint, and silver out of the adamant, no pains shall be spared, no time shall be neglected, for gold is their hope, and the wedge of gold is their confidence, their hearts are set upon the pelf of this world, and for love of it, all things are let slip, even all duties to God or men, they care not how basely they serve, how wretchedly they neglect all others, so as they may get wealth: pinch who will, and wring who will; all times are alike with them, and they run for the bribe and _Gehazie_; and this is the first way that men seek their own. Now the contrary is seen in _Nehemiah_, who when the people were hard put to it, and the land raw, he took not the duties which were due to him being a magistrate, he bought no land, nor grew rich, for it was no time: but he maintained at his table many of his brethren the Jews, and so spent even his own proper goods. And _Paul_ sought no man's gold nor silver, but though he had authority, yet he took not bread of the churches, but labored with his hands: and why? It was no time to take, some churches were poor and stood in want, as _Thessalonica_, others were in danger to be preyed upon by covetous belly-gods, as _Corinth_: and therefore he saw it no fit time now to take any thing of them. And indeed here is the difference between a covetous worldling, and an honest thrifty Christian, it is lawful sometimes for men to gather wealth, and grow rich, even as there was a time for _Joseph_ to store up corn, but a godly and sincere Christian will see when this time is, and will not hoard up when he seeth others of his brethren and associates to want, but then is a time, if he have any thing to fetch it out and disperse it, but the covetous gathers goods, he like _Achan_ covets all that he seeth; and neglects no time, but gathers still and holds all fast, and if it were to save the life of his brother, his bags must not be diminished, nor his chests lighted, nor his field set to sale, gather as much as he can, but it's death to diminish the least part of it. 2. The second way by which men seek their own, is when they seek ease, or pleasure, as the _Scribes_ and _Pharisees_, who would not touch the burden with one of their fingers; for there is a generation, which think to have more in this world then _Adam's_ felicity in innocency, being born (as they think) to take their pleasures, and their ease, let the roof of the house drop through, they stir not; let the field be overgrown with weeds, they care not, they must not foul their hand, nor wet their foot, it's enough for them to say, Go you, not let us go, though never so much need; such idle drones, are intollerable in a settled commonwealth, much more in a commonwealth which is but as it were in the bud; of what earth I pray thee art thou made, of any better than the other of the sons of _Adam_? And canst thou see other of thy brethren toil their hearts out, and thou sit idle at home, or takest thy pleasure abroad? Remember the example of _Uriah_, who would not take his ease nor his pleasure, though the King required him, and why? Because his brethren, his associates, better men than himself (as he esteemed them) were under hard labors and conditions, lay in the field in tents, caves, &c. 3. The third way is when men seek their own bellies, as some did in the Apostles' times, which went about with new doctrines and devices, knowing that the people had itching ears, and would easily entertain and willingly feed such novelists, which brought in dissensions, schisms, and contentions, and such were rocks, or pillars in their love-feasts, as _Jude_ speaketh, _ver. 12._ They were shadows in God's service, but when feasting came, then they were substances, then they were in their element. And certainly there are some men which shape even their religion, human state, and all, even as the belly cheer is best, and that they must have, else all heart and life is gone; let all conscience, care of others go, let _Lazarus_ starve at the gate, let _Joseph's_ affliction be increased, they must have their dishes, their dainties, or no content. The contrary was seen in _Nehemiah_, who would not take his large portion allotted to the governor, because he knew it went short with others of his brethren; and _Uriah_ would not receive the King's present, and go banquet with his wife, because he knew the whole host his brethren were fain to snap short in the fields. And the difference between a temperate good man, and a belly-god is this: A good man will not eat his morsels alone, especially, if he have better than others, but if by God's providence, he have gotten some meat which is better than ordinary, and better than his other brethren, he can have no rest in himself, except he make others partake with him. But a belly-god will slop all in his own throat, yea, though his neighbor come in and behold him eat, yet his griple-gut shameth not to swallow all. And this may be done sometimes, as well in mean fare as in greater dainties, for all countries afford not alike. 4. The fourth way by which men seek their own, is by seeking outward honor, fame and respect with men; as King _Saul_ when he had lost all respect and favor with God, then thought to give content to his heart by being honored before the Elders of the people; and it is wonderful to see how some men are _desirous of vain glory_, _Gal._ 5. 26. And how earnestly they seek praise, favor, and respect with men, and can have no quiet longer than their worldly favor lasteth, and that they will have what dishonor soever come to God, or disgrace unto men, yea, they will disgrace, reproach, and disdain others, to gain honor and advancement to themselves, yea, they will make bold with the Scriptures and Word of God, to wrest and wring, and slight it over for their credit's sake. And let a man mark some men's talk, stories, discourses, &c. and he shall see their whole drift is to extol and set out themselves, and get praise and commendation of men. Now the contrary was seen in _Paul_, he saith, _He needed no letters of commendations_, 2 Cor. 3. 2. And again, _He is not affected with men's praise_, 1 Cor. 10. 12. And here is indeed the difference between an humble-minded Christian, and a proud self-lover; an humble man often hath praise, as _David_, _Hezekiah_, and _Josiah_, but he seeks it not, he desires it not, he is content to go without it, he loves not the praise of men, for he knows it but froth and vanity: but a proud self-lover, he seeks it still, get it or not get it, and if he get it he is fully satisfied, if he get it not he hangs his head like a bull-rush, and hath no comfort. 5. The fifth way by which men seek their own, is _by seeking to have their wills_; as the wrong doers in _Corinth_, who thought it not enough to do wrong and harm to their brethren, but to have their wills enough of them, drew them before the Heathen magistrates. And truly some men are so prince-like, or rather Papal, that their very will and word is become a law, and if they have said it, it must be so, else there is no rest or quietness to be had, let never so many reasons be brought to the contrary, it is but fighting with the wind. They are like the obstinate Jews, who when against God's law, and reason, they asked a King, though _Samuel_ shewed them that it would turn in the end to their own smart, yet still held the conclusion, and said, nay, _But we will have a King_, 1 Sam. 8. 19. Thus men are caught by their own words, and insnared by the straitness of their own hearts, and it is death to them not to have their wills, and howsoever sometimes (like _Jezebel_) they are cut short of their purposes, yet self-willed men will strut and swell like _Absalom_, saying neither _good nor bad_, 2 Sam. 13. 22. but hope for the day, and threaten like prophane _Esau_, Gen. 27. 41. Now the contrary is seen in _David_, though a prince, a captain, a warrior, who having said, yea sworn, that he would kill _Nabal_, and all his family that day, yet upon reasonable counsel given, and that by a weak woman, he changed his mind, altered his purpose, and returned, without striking one stroke, an example rare, and worthy imitation; and when men are sick of will, let them think of _David_, it was his grace and honor to go back from his word and practice, when reason came. So was it _Herod's_ disgrace and shame to hold his word and will against reason and conscience, _Math._ 14. 8, 9. _Quest._ But some men happily will say unto me, It is true, that men seek their own by all these ways, _But what should be the reason and cause of this? that men seek so earnestly themselves, in seeking riches, honor, ease, belly-cheer, will, &c. something there is that carrieth them_. _Ans._ True, and the reasons and causes are specially these three: First, pride and high conceitedness, when men overvalue themselves: and this made _Absalom_ to seek his father's kingdom, because he thought himself worthy of it. _2 Sam._ 15. 4. This made _Haman_ so sore vexed, because _Mordecai_ bowed not to him, because he highly valued himself, _Esther_, 3. 5. And surely that which a man valueth much, he giveth much respect to, and so it is a sure sign that a man loves himself most when he giveth most to himself; and some intolerable proud persons even think all the world is for them, and all their purposes and endeavors shew what a large conceit they have of themselves. Secondly, want of due consideration and valuation of other men's endowments, abilities and deserts; when men pass those things by, though they have both seen, heard, and felt them; as _Pharaoh's_ butler forgot _Joseph's_ eminency when he was restored to his place, _Gen._ 40. 23. So men used to write their own good actions in brass, but other men's in ashes, never remembering nor considering the pains, labor, good properties, &c. which others have, and so they have no love to them, but only to themselves; as if God had made all other men unreasonable beasts, and them only reasonable men. Thirdly, want of heavenly conversation, and spiritual eye to behold the glory, greatness, and majesty, and goodness of God; as the Queen of _Sheba_, thought highly of her own glory, wisdom and happiness, till she saw _Solomon's_ wisdom and glory, and then she cried out, not of the happiness of her own servants, but of his servants that stood before him, 1 _Kings_ 10. 7, 8. And verily, if men were conversant courtiers in Heaven, they would cry out with _Paul_, Rom. 11. 33. _Oh the depth of the riches, wisdom, and knowledge of God, &c._ and would be ashamed of their own sinfulness, nakedness and misery; for, as countrymen which never saw the state of cities, nor the glory of courts, admire even their own country Orders: And as the savages here which are clad in skins, and creep in woods and holes, think their own brutish and inhuman life the best, which if they saw and did rightly apprehend the benefit of comely humanity, the sweetness of religion and the service of God, they would even shamefully hide themselves from the eye of all noble Christians. Even so, if men in serious contemplation, by the eye of faith, would behold the glory of God, and what great riches, beauty, fulness, perfection, power, dignity and greatness is in God, they would leave admiring of themselves, and seeking of themselves, and would say with _David, What am I? And what is my father's house? that thou shouldest thus bless me?_ 2 Sam. 7. 18. Yea _What is man? or the son of man that thou so regardest him?_ Psal. 8. 3. But it is time to come to apply these things more particularly to ourselves, and see what Use is to be made of them: _Use 1._ Is it so, that God seeth a proneness in all the sons of _Adam_, to seek themselves too much, and hath given them warnings and watch-words thereof, as we have heard, and doth experience confirm it? Then hence are reproved a number of men, who think they can never shew love enough to themselves, nor seek their own enough, but think all cost, charges, cherishing, praise, honor, &c. too little for them, and no man needeth to say to them, as _Peter_ did to Christ, _favor thy self_; but if they do a little for another man, they account it a great matter, though it be but a morsel of bread, or a single penny; but no varieties of dainties is too good for them, no silk, purple, cloth, or stuff is too good to clothe them, the poor man's idleness and ill husbandry is oft thrown in his dish, but their own carnal delights and fleshy wantonness is never thought upon: and why? Because they think even God and man owes all to them, but they owe nothing to none. Why, thou foolish and besotted man, hath not the Holy Ghost read it in the very face of every son of _Adam_, that he is too apt to seek his own, and art thou wiser than God, to think thou never seekest thine own enough? or dreamest thou that thou art made of other, and better mettle than other men are? Surely, I know no way to escape, having of corruption to thy father, and the worm to thy sister and brother. And if God had any where in all the Scriptures said, love thyself, make much of thyself, provide for one, &c. there were some reason for thee to take up the niggard's proverbs, _Every man for himself, and God for us all; Charity beginneth at home, &c._ But God never taught thee these things; No, they are Satan's positions. Doth God ever commend a man for carnal love of himself? Nay he brands it, and disgraceth it, as _self love, taking thought for the flesh; loving of pleasure, &c._ Rom. 13. 14, 2 Tim. 34. _Obj._ _It is a point of good natural policy, for a man to care and provide for himself._ _Ans._ Then the most fools have most natural policy, for you see not the greatest drones and novices, either in church, or commonwealth, to be the greatest scratchers and scrapers, and gatherers of riches? Are they not also for the most part, best fed and clad? And live they not most easily? What shall I say? Even hogs, dogs, and brute beasts know their own ease, and can seek that which is good for themselves; and what doth this shifting, progging, and fat feeding which some use, more resemble any thing than the fashion of hogs? And so let it be what natural policy it will. _Use 2._ If God see this disease of self-love so dangerous in us, then it standeth us all in hand to suspect ourselves, and so to seek out the root of this disease, that it may be cured. If a learned physician, shall see by our countenance and eye, that we have some dangerous disease growing on us, our hearts will smite us, and we will bethink ourselves where the most grief lieth, and how it should come, whether with cold, heat, surfeit, over-flowing of blood, or through grief, melancholy, or any such way, and every man will bestir himself to get rid of it, and will prevent always that which feeds the disease, and cherish all courses that would destroy it. Now, how much more ought we to bestir ourselves, for this matter of self love, since God himself hath cast all our waters, and felt all our pulses, and pronounceth us all dangerously sick of this disease? Believe it, God cannot lie, nor be deceived; He that made the heart, doth not he know it? Let every man's heart smite him, and let him fall to the examination of himself and see first, whether he love not riches and worldly wealth too much, whether his heart be not too jocund at the coming of it in, and too heavy at the going of it out, for if you find it so there is great danger, if thou canst not buy as if thou possessed not, and use this world as though thou used it not, (_1 Cor._ 7. 30, 31.) thou art sick, and had need to look to it. So, if thou lovest thine ease and pleasure, see whether thou can be content to receive at God's hands evil as well as good, (_Job_ 2. 10.) whether thou have learned as well to abound as to want, (_Phil._ 4. 10.) as well to endure hard labor, as to live at ease; and art as willing to go to the house of mourning as to the house of mirth, (_Eccl._ 7. 6.) for, else, out of doubt, thou lovest thy carnal pleasure and ease too much. Again, see whether thy heart cannot be as merry, and thy mind as joyful, and thy countenance as cheerful, with coarse fare, with pulse, with bread and water (if God offer thee no better, nor the times afford other) as if thou had the greatest dainties: (_Dan._ 1. 15.) So also whether thou can be content as well with scorns of men, when thou hast done well, as with their praises, so if thou can with comfort and good conscience say, I pass little for man's judgment; whether thou can do thy duty that God requireth, and despise the shame, referring thyself unto God, for if thou be disheartened, discouraged, and weakened in any duty because of men's dispraises, its a sign thou lovest thyself too much. So for the will, if thou can be content to give way even from that which thou hast said shall be, yea, vowed shall be, when better reason cometh, and hast that reverence of other men, as that when it standeth but upon a matter of will, thou art as willing their wills should stand as thine, and art not sad, churlish, or discontented, (_1 Kings_ 21. 4.) but cheerful in thine heart, though thy will be crossed, it is a good sign, but if not, thou art sick of a self-will, and must purge it out. I the rather press these things, because I see many men both wise and religious, which yet are so tainted with this pestilent self-love, as that it is in them even as a dead fly to the apothecaries' ointment, spoiling the efficacy of all their graces, making their lives uncomfortable to themselves, and unprofitable to others, being neither fit for church nor commonwealth, but have even their very souls in hazard thereby, and therefore who can say too much against it. It is reported, that there are many men gone to that other plantation in _Virginia_, which, whilst they lived in _England_, seemed very religious, zealous, and conscionable; and have now lost even the sap of grace, and edge to all goodness; and are become mere worldlings. This testimony I believe to be partly true, and amongst many causes of it, this self-love is not the least. It is indeed a matter of some commendation for a man to remove himself out of a thronged place into a wide wilderness; to take in hand so long and dangerous a journey, to be an instrument to carry the Gospel and humanity among the brutish heathen; but there may be many goodly shews and glosses and yet a pad in the straw, men may make a great appearance of respect unto God, and yet but dissemble with him, having their own lusts carrying them: and, out of doubt, men that have taken in hand hither to come, out of discontentment in regard of their estates in _England_; and aiming at great matters here, affecting it to be gentlemen, landed men, or hoping for office, place, dignity, or fleshly liberty; let the shew be what it will, the substance is naught, and that bird of self-love which was hatched at home, if it be not looked to, will eat out the life of all grace and goodness: and though men have escaped the danger of the sea, and that cruel mortality, which swept away so many of our loving friends and brethren; yet except they purge out this self-love, a worse mischief is prepared for them: And who knoweth whether God in mercy have delivered those just men which here departed, from the evils to come; and from unreasonable men, in whom there neither was, nor is, any comfort, but grief, sorrow, affliction, and misery, till they cast out this spawn of self-love. But I have dwelt too long upon this first part; I come now to the second, which concerns an Exhortation, as I shewed you, in the Division. _But every man another's wealth._ In direct opposition, he should say, _Let every man seek another's_, but the first part being compared with the latter, and (_seek_) being taken out of the former and put to the latter, and (_wealth_) taken out or rather implied, in the former, the whole sentence is thus resolved, _Let no man seek his own wealth, but let every man seek another's wealth_. And the word here translated _wealth_, is the same with that in _Rom._ 13. 4, and may not be taken only for riches, as Englishmen commonly understand it, but for all kinds of benefits, favors, comforts either for soul or body; and so here again, as before you must understand an Affirmative Commandment, as the Negative was before: and least any should say, If I may not seek my own good, I may do nothing; Yes saith _Paul_, I'll tell thee, thou shalt seek the good of another, whereas now all thy seeking helps but one, by this means thou shalt help many: and this is further enforced by these two circumstances, (no man) may seek his own, be he rich, learned, wise, &c. _But every man must seek the good of another_. The point of instruction is taken from the very letter and phrase, viz. Doct. 2. _A man_ must _seek the good, the wealth, the profit of others._ I say he _must_ seek it, he must seek the comfort, profit and benefit of his neighbor, brother, associate, &c. His own good he need not seek, it will offer itself to him every hour; but the good of others must be sought, a man must not stay from doing good to others till he is sought unto, pulled and hauled, (as it were) like the unjust judge, for every benefit that is first craved, cometh too late. And thus the ancient patriarchs did practice, when the traveller and wayfaring men came by, they did not tarry till they came and asked relief and refreshment, but sat at the gates to watch for such, (_Judges_ 19. 20, 21) and looked in the streets to find them, yea, set open their doors that they might freely and boldly enter in. And howsoever, some may think this too large a practice, since now the world is so full of people, yet I see not but the more people there is, the larger charity ought to be. But be it so, as a man may neglect, in some sort the general world, yet those to whom he is bound, either in natural, civil, or religious bands, them he must seek how to do them good. A notable example you have in _David_, who, because there was twixt him and _Jonathan_ a band and covenant, therefore he enquired, _Whether there was any left of the house of Saul, to whom he might shew mercy for Jonathan's sake_, 2 Sam. 9.1. So this people of _Corinth_, to whom _Paul_ writeth, they were in a spiritual league and covenant in the _Gospel_, and so were a body. Now for one member in the body to seek himself, and neglect all others were, as if a man should clothe one arm or one leg of his body with gold and purple, and let all the rest of the members go naked. _1 Cor. 12. 27._ Now brethren, I pray you, remember yourselves, and know, that you are not in a retired monastical course, but have given your names and promises one to another and covenanted here to cleave together in the service of God, and the King; What then must you do? May you live as retired hermits? and look after no body? Nay, you must seek still the wealth of one another; and enquire as _David_, how liveth such a man? How is he clad? How is he fed? He is my brother, my associate; we ventured our lives together here, and had a hard brunt of it and we are in league together. Is his labor harder than mine? surely I will ease him; hath he no bed to lie on? why, I have two, I'll lend him one; hath he no apparel? why, I have two suits, I'll give him one of them; eats he coarse fare, bread and water, and I have better, why, surely we will part stakes. He is as good a man as I, and we are bound each to other, so that his wants must be my wants, his sorrows my sorrows, his sickness my sickness, and his welfare my welfare, for I am as he is. And such a sweet sympathy were excellent, comfortable, yea, heavenly, and is the only maker and conserver of churches and commonwealths, and where this is wanting, ruin comes on quickly, as it did here in _Corinth_. But besides these motives, there are other reasons to provoke us not only to do good one to another; but even to seek and search how to do it. 1. As first, to maintain modesty in all our associates, that of hungry wanters, they become not bold beggars and impudent cravers; for as one saith of women, that, when they have lost their shamefacedness, they have lost half their honesty, so may it be truly said of a man that when he hath lost his modesty, and puts on a begging face, he hath lost his majesty, and the image of that noble creature; and man should not beg and crave of man, but only of God. True it is, that as Christ was fain to crave water of the Samaritan woman, (_John_ 4. 5.) so men are forced to ask sometimes rather than starve, but indeed in all societies it should be offered them. Men often complain of men's boldness in asking, but how cometh this to pass, but because the world have been so full of self-lovers as no man would offer their money, meat, garments, though they saw men hungry, harborless, poor, and naked in the streets; and what is it that makes men brazen-faced, bold, brutish, tumultuous, but because they are pinched with want, and see others of their companions (which it may be have less deserved) to live in prosperity and pleasure? 2. It wonderfully encourageth men in their duties, when they see the burthen equally borne; but when some withdraw themselves and retire to their own particular ease, pleasure, or profit; what heart can men have to go on in their business? when men are come together to lift some weighty piece of timber or vessel; if one stand still and do not lift, shall not the rest be weakened and disheartened? Will not a few idle drones spoil the whole stock of laborious bees: so one idle-belly, one murmurer, one complainer, one self-lover will weaken and dishearten a whole colony. Great matters have been brought to pass where men have cheerfully as with one heart, hand, and shoulder, gone about it, both in wars, buildings, and plantations, but where every man seeks himself, all cometh to nothing. 3. The present necessity requireth it, as it did in the days of the _Jews_, returning from captivity, and as it was here in _Corinth_. The country is yet raw, the land untilled, the cities not builded, the cattle not settled, we are compassed about with a helpless and idle people, the natives of the country, which cannot in any comely or comfortable manner help themselves, much less us. We also have been very chargeable to many of our loving friends, which helped us hither, and now again supplied us, so that before we think of gathering riches, we must even in conscience think of requiting their charge, love and labor, and cursed be that profit and gain which aimeth not at this. Besides, how many of our dear friends did here die at our first entrance, many of them no doubt for want of good lodging, shelter, and comfortable things, and many more may go after them quickly, if care be not taken. Is this then a time for men to begin to seek themselves? _Paul_ saith, that men in the last days shall be lovers of themselves, (_2 Tim._ 3. 2.) but it is here yet but the first days, and (as it were) the dawning of this new world, it is now therefore no time for men to look to get riches, brave clothes, dainty fare, but to look to present necessities; it is now no time to pamper the flesh, live at ease, snatch, catch, scrape, and pill, and hoard up, but rather to open the doors, the chests, and vessels, and say, brother, neighbor, friend, what want ye, any thing that I have? make bold with it, it is yours to command, to do you good, to comfort and cherish you, and glad I am that I have it for you. 4. And even the example of God himself, whom we should follow in all things within our power and capacity, may teach us this lesson, for (with reverence to his Majesty be it spoken) he might have kept all grace, goodness, and glory to himself, but he hath communicated it to us, even as far as we are capable of it in this life, and will communicate his glory in all fulness with his elect in that life to come; even so his son Jesus Christ left his glory eclipsed for a time, and abased himself to a poor and distressed life in this world, that he might, by it, bring us to happiness in the world to come. If God then have delighted in thus doing good and relieving frail and miserable man, so far inferior to himself, what delight ought man to have to relieve and comfort man, which is equal to himself? 5. Even as we deal with others, ourselves and others shall be dealt withal. Carest thou not how others fare, how they toil, are grieved, sick, pinched, cold, harborless, so as thou be in health, livest at ease, warm in thy nest, farest well? The days will come when thou shalt labor and none shall pity thee, be poor and none relieve thee, be sick, and lie and die and none visit thee, yea, and thy children shall lie and starve in the streets, and none shall relieve them, for _it is the merciful that shall obtain mercy_; Mat. 5. 7. and _the memory of the just shall be blessed_ even in his seed; _Prov._ 10. and a merciful and loving man when he dies, though he leave his children small and desolate, yet every one is mercifully stirred up for the father's sake to shew compassion, but the unkindness, currishness, and self-love of a father, is through God's just judgment recompensed upon the children with neglect and cruelty. 6. Lastly, That we may draw to an end; A merciless man, and a man without natural affection or love, is reckoned among such as are given over of God to a reprobate mind, (_Rom._ 1. 30.) and (as it were) transformed into a beast-like humor; for, what is man if he be not sociable, kind, affable, free-hearted, liberal; he is a beast in the shape of a man; or rather an infernal spirit, walking amongst men, which makes the world a hell what in him lieth; for, it is even a hell to live where there are such men: such the Scriptures calleth _Nabals_, which signifieth _fools_, (_Psal._ 14. 1.) and decayed men, which have lost both the sap of grace and nature; and such merciless men are called goats, and shall be set at Christ's left hand at the last day, (_Math._ 25. 33.) _Oh therefore seek the wealth one of another_. _Obj._ But some will say, _It is true, and it were well if men would so do, but we see every man is so for himself, as that if I should not do so, I should do full ill, for if I have it not of my own, I may snap short sometimes, for I see no body showeth me any kindness, nor giveth me any thing; if I have gold or silver, that goeth for payment, and if I want it I may lie in the street, therefore I had best keep that I have, and not be so liberal as you would have me, except I saw others would be so towards me_. _Ans._ This Objection seemeth but equal and reasonable, as did the Answer of _Nabal_ to _David's_ men, but it is most foolish and carnal, as his also was; for, if we should measure our courses by most men's practices, a man should never do any godly duty; for, do not the most, yea, almost all, go the broad way that leadeth to death and damnation, (_Luke._ 13. 23, 24.) Who then will follow a multitude? It is the word of God, and the examples of the best men that we must follow. And what if others will do nothing for thee, but are unkind and unmerciful to thee? Knowest thou not that they which will be the children of God must be kind to the unkind, loving to their enemies, and bless those that curse them? (_Mat._ 5. 44, 47.) If all men were kind to thee, it were but _publicans'_ righteousness to be kind to them? If all men be evil, wilt thou be so too? When _David_ cried out, _Help Lord, for not a godly man is left_, Psal. 12. 1. did he himself turn ungodly also? Nay, he was rather the more strict. So, if love and charity be departed out of this world, be thou one of them that shall first bring it in again. And let this be the first rule, which I will with two others conclude for this time. 1. Never measure thy course by the most, but by the best, yea, and principally by God's word; Look not what others do to thee, but consider what thou art to do to them: seek to please God, not thyself. Did they in _Mat._ 25. 44. plead, that others did nothing for them? No such matter, no such plea will stand before God, his word is plain to the contrary, therefore, though all the world should neglect thee, disregard thee, and contemn thee, yet remember thou hast not to do with men, but with the highest God, and so thou must do thy duty to them notwithstanding. 2. And let there be no prodigal person to come forth and say, Give me the portion of lands and goods that appertaineth to me, and let me shift for myself; _Luke_ 15. 12. It is yet too soon to put men to their shifts; _Israel_ was seven years in _Canaan_, before the land was divided unto tribes, much longer before it was divided unto families; and why wouldst thou have thy particular portion, but because thou thinkest to live better than thy neighbor, and scornest to live so meanly as he? but who, I pray thee, brought this particularizing first into the world? Did not Satan, who was not content to keep that equal state with his fellows, but would set his throne above the stars? Did not he also entice man to despise his general felicity and happiness, and go try particular knowledge of good and evil; and nothing in this world doth more resemble heavenly happiness, than for men to live as one, being of one heart, and one soul; neither any thing more resembles hellish horror, then for every man to shift for himself; for if it be a good mind and practise, thus to affect particulars, _mine_ and _thine_, then it should be best also for God to provide one heaven for thee, and another for thy neighbor. _Object._ But some will say, _If all men will do their endeavors as I do I could be content with this generality,--but many are idle and slothful, and eat up others' labors, and therefore it is best to part, and then every man may do his pleasure_. First, this, indeed, is the common plea of such as will endure no inconveniences, and so for the hardness of men's hearts, God and man doth often give way to that which is not best, nor perpetual, but indeed if we take this course to change ordinances and practices because of inconveniences, we shall have every day new laws. Secondly, if others be idle and thou diligent, thy fellowship, provocation, and example, may well help to cure that malady in them, being together, but being asunder, shall they not be more idle, and shall not gentry and beggary be quickly the glorious ensigns of your commonwealth? Thirdly, construe things in the best part, be not too hasty to say, men are idle and slothful, all men have not strength, skill, faculty, spirit, and courage to work alike; it is thy glory and credit, that thou canst do so well, and his shame and reproach, that can do no better; and are not these sufficient rewards to you both. Fourthly, if any be idle apparently, you have a law and governors to execute the same, and to follow that rule of the Apostle, to keep back their bread, and let them not eat, go not therefore whispering, to charge men with idleness; but go to the governor and prove them idle; and thou shall see them have their deserts. _Acts_ 19. 38. 2 _Thes._ 3. 10. _Deut._ 19. 15. And as you are a body together, so hang not together by skins and gymocks, but labor to be jointed together and knit by flesh and sinews; away with envy at the good of others, and rejoice in his good, and sorrow for his evil. Let his joy be thy joy, and his sorrow thy sorrow: Let his sickness be thy sickness: his hunger thy hunger: his poverty thy poverty; and if you profess friendship, be friends in adversity; for then a friend is known and tried, and not before. 3. Lay away all thought of former things and forget them, and think upon the things that are; look not gapingly one upon other, pleading your goodness, your birth, your life you lived, your means you had and might have had; here you are by God's providence under difficulties; be thankful to God, it is no worse, and take it in good part that which is, and lift not up yourself because of former privileges; when _Job_ was brought to the dung-hill, he sat down upon it, _Job_ 2. 8. and when the Almighty had been bitter to _Naomi_, she would be called _Marah_; consider therefore what you are now, and whose you are; say not I could have lived thus, and thus; but say thus and thus I must live: for God and natural necessity requireth, if your difficulties be great, you had need to cleave the faster together, and comfort and cheer up one another, laboring to make each other's burden lighter; there is no grief so tedious as a churlish companion and nothing makes sorrows easy more than cheerful associates: bear ye therefore one another's burthen, and be not a burthen one to another; avoid all factions, frowardness, singularity and withdrawings, and cleave fast to the Lord, and one to another continually; so shall you be a notable precedent to these poor heathens, whose eyes are upon you, and who very brutishly and cruelly do daily eat and consume one another, through their emulations, ways and contentions; be you therefore ashamed of it, and win them to peace both with yourselves, and one another, by your peaceable examples, which will preach louder to them, than if you could cry in their barbarous language; so also shall you be an encouragement to many of your christian friends in your native country, to come to you, when they hear of your peace, love and kindness that is amongst you: but above all, it shall go well with your souls, when that God of peace and unity shall come to visit you with death as he hath done many of your associates, you being found of him, not in murmurings, discontent and jars, but in brotherly love, and peace, may be translated from this wandering wilderness unto that joyful and heavenly Canaan. AMEN. 
11693	----	THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS GRENVILLE KLEISER Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in Public," Etc. With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other Theologians INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D. Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University VOLUME VIII TALMAGE TO KNOX LITTLE 1908 CONTENTS VOLUME VIII. TALMAGE (1832-1901). A Bloody Monster SPURGEON (1834-1892). Songs in the Night POTTER (1834-1908) Memorial Discourse on Phillips Brooks ABBOTT (Born in 1835). The Divinity in Humanity BROOKS (1835-1893). The Pride of Life GLADDEST (Born in 1836). The Prince of Life CLIFFORD (Born in 1836). The Forgiveness of Sins MOODY (1837-1899). What Think Ye of Christ? FOWLER (1837-1908). The Spirit of Christ WHYTE (Born in 1837). Experience WATKINSON (Born in 1838). The Transfigured Sackcloth LORIMER (1838-1904). The Fall of Satan LITTLE (Born in 1839). Thirst Satisfied TALMAGE A BLOODY MONSTER BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Thomas De Witt Talmage was born at Bound Brook, N.J., in 1832. For many years he preached to large and enthusiastic congregations at the Brooklyn Tabernacle. At one time six hundred newspapers regularly printed his sermons. He was a man of great vitality, optimistic by nature, and particularly popular with young people. His voice was rather high and unmusical, but his distinct enunciation and earnestness of manner gave a peculiar attraction to his pulpit oratory. His rhetoric has been criticized for floridness and sensationalism, but his word pictures held multitudes of people spellbound as in the presence of a master. He died in 1901. TALMAGE 1832--1901 A BLOODY MONSTER[1] [Footnote 1: Copyright, 1900, by Louis Klopsch, and reprinted by permission.] _It is my son's coat; an evil beast hath devoured him._--Gen. xxxvii., 33. Joseph's brethren dipt their brother's coat in goat's blood, and then brought the dabbled garment to their father, cheating him with the idea that a ferocious animal had slain him, and thus hiding their infamous behavior. But there is no deception about that which we hold up to your observation to-day. A monster such as never ranged African thicket or Hindustan jungle hath tracked this land, and with bloody maw hath strewn the continent with the mangled carcasses of whole generations; and there are tens of thousands of fathers and mothers who could hold up the garment of their slain boy, truthfully exclaiming, "It is my son's coat; an evil beast hath devoured him." There has, in all ages and climes, been a tendency to the improper use of stimulants. Noah took to strong drink. By this vice, Alexander the Conqueror was conquered. The Romans at their feasts fell off their seats with intoxication. Four hundred millions of our race are opium-eaters. India, Turkey, and China have groaned with the desolation; and by it have been quenched such lights as Halley and De Quincey. One hundred millions are the victims of the betelnut, which has specially blasted the East Indies. Three hundred millions chew hashish, and Persia, Brazil, and Africa suffer the delirium. The Tartars employ murowa; the Mexicans, the agave; the people at Guarapo, an intoxicating product taken from sugarcane; while a great multitude, that no man can number, are the votaries of alcohol. To it they bow. Under it they are trampled. In its trenches they fall. On its ghastly holocaust they burn. Could the muster-roll of this great army be called, and could they come up from the dead, what eye could endure the reeking, festering putrefaction? What heart could endure the groan of agony? Drunkenness! Does it not jingle the burglar's key? Does it not whet the assassin's knife? Does it not cock the highwayman's pistol? Does it not wave the incendiary's torch? Has it not sent the physician reeling into the sick-room; and the minister with his tongue thick into the pulpit? Did not an exquisite poet, from the very top of his fame, fall a gibbering sot, into the gutter, on his way to be married to one of the fairest daughters of New England, and at the very hour the bride was decking herself for the altar; and did he not die of delirium tremens, almost unattended, in a hospital? Tamerlane asked for one hundred and sixty thousand skulls with which to build a pyramid to his own honor. He got the skulls, and built the pyramid. But if the bones of all those who have fallen as a prey to dissipation could be piled up, it would make a vaster pyramid. Who will gird himself for the journey and try with me to scale this mountain of the dead--going up miles high on human carcasses to find still other peaks far above, mountain above mountain white with the bleached bones of drunkards? The Sabbath has been sacrificed to the rum traffic. To many of our people, the best day of the week is the worst. Bakers must keep their shops closed on the Sabbath. It is dangerous to have loaves of bread going out on Sunday. The shoe store is closed: severe penalty will attack the man who sells boots on the Sabbath. But down with the window-shutters of the grog-shops. Our laws shall confer particular honor upon the rum-traffickers. All other trades must stand aside for these. Let our citizens who have disgraced themselves by trading in clothing and hosiery and hardware and lumber and coal take off their hats to the rum-seller, elected to particular honor. It is unsafe for any other class of men to be allowed license for Sunday work. But swing out your signs, and open your doors, O ye traffickers in the peace of families and in the souls of immortal men. Let the corks fly and the beer foam and the rum go tearing down the half-consumed throat of the inebriate. God does not see! Does He? Judgment will never come! Will it? It may be that God is determined to let drunkenness triumph, and the husbands and sons of thousands of our best families be destroyed by this vice, in order that our people, amazed and indignant, may rise up and demand the extermination of this municipal crime. There is a way of driving down the hoops of a barrel so tight that they break. We have, in this country, at various times, tried to regulate this evil by a tax on whisky. You might as well try to regulate the Asiatic cholera or the smallpox by taxation. The men who distil liquors are, for the most part, unscrupulous; and the higher the tax, the more inducement to illicit distillation. Oh! the folly of trying to restrain an evil by government tariff! If every gallon of whisky made--if every flask of wine produced, should be taxed a thousand dollars, it would not be enough to pay for the tears it has wrung from the eyes of widows and orphans, nor for the blood it has dashed on the Christian Church, nor for the catastrophe of the millions it has destroyed for ever. I sketch two houses in one street. The first is bright as home can be. The father comes at nightfall, and the children run out to meet him. Bountiful evening meal! Gratulation and sympathy and laughter! Music in the parlor! Fine pictures on the wall! Costly books on the table! Well-clad household! Plenty of everything to make home happy! House the second! Piano sold, yesterday by the sheriff! Wife's furs at pawnbroker's shop! Clock gone! Daughter's jewelry sold to get flour! Carpets gone off the floor! Daughters in faded and patched dresses! Wife sewing for the stores! Little child with an ugly wound on her face, struck by an angry blow! Deep shadow of wretchedness falling in every room! Doorbell rings! Little children hide! Daughters turn pale! Wife holds her breath! Blundering step in the hall! Door opens! Fiend, brandishing his fist, cries, "Out! out! What are you doing here?" Did I call this house second? No; it is the same house. Rum transformed it. Rum embruted the man. Rum sold the shawl. Rum tore up the carpets. Rum shook his fist. Rum desolated the hearth. Rum changed that paradise into a hell. I sketch two men that you know very well. The first graduated from one of our literary institutions. His father, mother, brothers and sisters were present to see him graduate. They heard the applauding thunders that greeted his speech. They saw the bouquets tossed to his feet. They saw the degree conferred and the diploma given. He never looked so well. Everybody said, "What a noble brow! What a fine eye! What graceful manners! What brilliant prospects!" Man the second: Lies in the station-house. The doctor has just been sent for to bind up the gashes received in a fight. His hair is matted and makes him look like a wild beast. His lip is bloody and cut. Who is this battered and bruised wretch that was picked up by the police and carried in drunk and foul and bleeding? Did I call him man the second? He is man the first! Rum transformed him. Rum destroyed his prospects. Rum disappointed parental expectation. Rum withered those garlands of commencement day. Rum cut his lip. Rum dashed out his manhood. Rum, accurst rum! This foul thing gives one swing to its scythe, and our best merchants fall; their stores are sold, and they sink into dishonored graves. Again it swings its scythe, and some of our physicians fall into suffering that their wisest prescriptions cannot cure. Again it swings its scythe, and ministers of the gospel fall from the heights of Zion, with long resounding crash of ruin and shame. Some of your own households have already been shaken. Perhaps you can hardly admit it; but where was your son last night? Where was he Friday night? Where was he Thursday night? Wednesday night? Tuesday night? Monday night? Nay, have not some of you in your own bodies felt the power of this habit? You think that you could stop? Are you sure you could? Go on a little further, and I am sure you cannot. I think, if some of you should try to break away, you would find a chain on the right wrist, and one on the left; one on the right foot, and another on the left. This serpent does not begin to hurt until it has wound 'round and 'round. Then it begins to tighten and strangle and crush until the bones crack and the blood trickles and the eyes start from their sockets, and the mangled wretch cries. "O God! O God! help! help!" But it is too late; and not even the fires of we can melt the chain when once it is fully fastened. I have shown you the evil beast. The question is, who will hunt him down, and how shall we shoot him? I answer, first, by getting our children right on this subject. Let them grow up with an utter aversion to strong drink. Take care how you administer it even as medicine. If you must give it to them and you find that they have a natural love for it, as some have, put in a glass of it some horrid stuff, and make it utterly nauseous. Teach, them, as faithfully as you do the truths of the Bible, that rum is a fiend. Take them to the almshouse, and show them the wreck and ruin it works. Walk with them into the homes that have been scourged by it. If a drunkard hath fallen into a ditch, take them right up where they can see his face, bruised, savage, and swollen, and say, "Look, my son. Rum did that!" Looking out of your window at some one who, intoxicated to madness, goes through the street, brandishing his fist, blaspheming God, a howling, defying, shouting, reeling, raving, and foaming maniac, say to your son, "Look; that man was once a child like you." As you go by the grog-shop let them know that that is the place where men are slain and their wives made paupers and their children slaves. Hold out to your children warnings, all rewards, all counsels, lest in afterdays they break your heart and curse your gray hairs. A man laughed at my father for his scrupulous temperance principles, and said: "I am more liberal than you. I always give my children the sugar in the glass after we have been taking a drink." Three of his sons have died drunkards, and the fourth is imbecile through intemperate habits. Again, we will grapple this evil by voting only for sober men. How many men are there who can rise above the feelings of partizanship, and demand that our officials shall be sober men? I maintain that the question of sobriety is higher than the question of availability; and that, however eminent a man's services may be, if he have habits of intoxication, he is unfit for any office in the gift of a Christian people. Our laws will be no better than the men who make them. Spend a few days at Harrisburg or Albany or Washington and you will find out why, upon these subjects, it is impossible to get righteous enactments. Again, we will war upon this evil by organized societies. The friends of the rum traffic have banded together; annually issue their circulars; raise fabulous sums of money to advance their interests; and by grips, passwords, signs, and strategems, set at defiance public morals. Let us confront them with organizations just as secret, and, if need be, with grips and pass-words and signs, maintain our position. There is no need that our beneficent societies tell all their plans. I am in favor of all lawful strategy in the carrying on of this conflict. I wish to God we could lay under the wine-casks a train which, once ignited, would shake the earth with the explosion of this monstrous iniquity! Again, we will try the power of the pledge. There are thousands of men who have been saved by putting their names to such a document. I know it is laughed at; but there are some men who, having once promised a thing, do it. "Some have broken the pledge." Yes; they were liars. But all men are not liars. I do not say that it is the duty of all persons to make such signature; but I do say that it would be the salvation of many of you. The glorious work of Theobald Mathew can never be estimated. At this hand four millions of people took the pledge, and multitudes in Ireland, England, Scotland, and America, have kept it till this day. The pledge signed has been to thousands the proclamation of emancipation. Again, we expect great things from asylums for inebriates. They have already done a glorious work. I think that we are coming at last to treat inebriation as it ought to be treated, namely, as an awful disease, self-inflicted, to be sure, but nevertheless a disease. Once fastened upon a man, sermons will not cure him, temperance lectures will not eradicate it; religious tracts will not remove it; the Gospel of Christ will not arrest it. Once under the power of this awful thirst, the man is bound to go on; and, if the foaming glass were on the other side of perdition, he would wade through the fires of hell to get it. A young man in prison had such a strong thirst for intoxicating liquors that he had cut off his hand at the wrist, called for a bowl of brandy in order to stop the bleeding, thrust his wrist into the bowl, and then drank the contents. Stand not, when the thirst is on him, between a man and his cups. Clear the track for him. Away with the children! he would tread their life out. Away with the wife! he would dash her to death. Away with the cross! he would run it down. Away with the Bible! he would tear it up for the winds. Away with heaven! he considers it worthless as a straw. "Give me the drink! Give it to me! Tho the hands of blood pass up the bowl, and the soul trembles over the pit--the drink! Give it to me! Tho it be pale with tears; tho the froth of everlasting anguish float on the foam--give it to me! I drink to my wife's wo to my children's rags; to my eternal banishment from God and hope and heaven! Give it to me! the drink!" Again, we will contend against these evils by trying to persuade the respectable classes of society to the banishment of alcoholic beverages. You who move in elegant and refined associations; you who drink the best liquors; you who never drink until you lose your balance, let us look at each other in the face on this subject. You have, under God, in your power the redemption of this land from drunkenness. Empty your cellars and wine-closets of the beverage, and then come out and give us your hand, your vote, your prayers, your sympathies. Do that, and I will promise three things: first, that you will find unspeakable happiness in having done your duty; secondly, you will probably save somebody--perhaps your own child; thirdly, you will not, in your last hour, have a regret that you made the sacrifice, if sacrifice it be. As long as you make drinking respectable, drinking customs will prevail, and the plowshare of death, drawn by terrible disasters, will go on turning up this whole continent, from end to end, with the long, deep, awful furrow of drunkards' graves. This rum fiend would like to go and hang up a skeleton in your beautiful house, so that, when you opened the front door to go in, you would see it in the hall; and when you sat at your table you would see it hanging from the wall; and, when you opened your bedroom you would find it stretched upon your pillow; and, waking at night, you would feel its cold hand passing over your face and pinching at your heart. There is no home so beautiful but it may be devastated by the awful curse. It throws its jargon into the sweetest harmony. What was it that silenced Sheridan, the English orator, and shattered the golden scepter with which he swayed parliaments and courts? What foul sprite turned the sweet rhythm of Robert Burns into a tuneless babble? What was it that swamped the noble spirit of one of the heroes of the last war, until, in a drunken fit, he reeled from the deck of a Western steamer, and was drowned. There was one whose voice we all loved to hear. He was one of the most classic orators of the century. People wondered why a man of so pure a heart and so excellent a life should have such a sad countenance always. They knew not that his wife was a sot. I call upon those who are guilty of these indulgences to quit the path of death! Oh! what a change it would make in your home! Do you see how everything there is being desolated? Would you not like to bring back joy to your wife's heart, and have your children come out to meet you with as much confidence as once they showed? Would you not like to rekindle the home-lights that long ago were extinguished? It is not too late to change. It may not entirely obliterate from your soul the memory of wasted years and a ruined reputation, nor smooth out from your anxious brow the wrinkles which trouble has plowed. It may not call back unkind words uttered or rough deeds done; for perhaps in those awful moments you struck her! It may not take from your memory the bitter thoughts connected with some little grave. But it is not too late to save yourself, and secure for God and your family the remainder of your fast-going life. But perhaps you have not utterly gone astray. I may address one who may not have quite made up his mind. Let your better nature speak out. You take one side or other in war against drunkenness. Have you the courage to put your foot down right, and say to your companions and friends, "I will never drink intoxicating liquor in all my life; nor will I countenance the habit in others"? Have nothing to do with strong drink. It has turned the earth into a place of skulls, and has stood opening the gate to a lost world to let in its victims; until now the door swings no more upon its hinges, but, day and night, stands wide open to let in the agonized procession of doomed men. Do I address one whose regular work in life is to administer to this appetite? For God's sake get out of that business! If a we be pronounced upon the man who gives his neighbor drink, how many woes must be hanging over the man who does this every day and every hour of the day! Do not think that because human government may license you that therefore God licenses you. I am surprized to hear men say that they respect the "original package" decision by which the Supreme Court of the United States allows rum to be taken into States like Kansas, which decided against the sale of intoxicants. I have no respect for a wrong decision, I care not who makes it; the three judges of the Supreme Court who gave minority report against that decision were right, and the chief justice was wrong. The right of a State to defend itself against the rum traffic will yet be demonstrated, the Supreme Court notwithstanding. Higher than the judicial bench at Washington is the throne of the Lord God Almighty. No enactment, national, State, or municipal, can give you the right to carry on a business whose effect is destruction. God knows better than you do yourself the number of drinks you have poured down. You keep a list; but a more accurate list has been kept than yours. You may call it Burgundy, Bourbon, cognac, Heidsieck, sour mash, or beer. God calls it "strong-drink." Whether you sell it in low oyster-cellar or behind the polished counter of a first-class hotel, the divine curse is upon you. I tell you plainly that you will meet your customers one day when there will be no counter between you. When your work is done on earth, and you enter the reward of your business, all the souls of the men whom you have destroyed will crowd around you, and pour their bitterness into your cup. They will show you their wounds and say, "You made them"; and point to their unquenchable thirst and say, "You kindled it"; and rattle their chain and say, "You forged it." Then their united groans will smite your ear; and with the hands out of which you once picked the sixpences and the dimes they will push you off the verge of great precipices; while rolling up from beneath, and breaking away among the crags of death, will thunder, "Wo to him that giveth his neighbor drink!" SPURGEON SONGS IN THE NIGHT BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Charles Haddon Spurgeon was born at Kelvedon, Essex, England, in 1834. He was one of the most powerful and popular preachers of his time, and his extraordinary force of character and wonderful enthusiasm attracted vast audiences. His voice was unusually powerful, clear and melodious, and he used it with consummate skill. In the preparation of his sermons he meditated much but wrote not a word, so that he was in the truest sense a purely extemporaneous speaker. Sincerity, intensity, imagination and humor, he had in preeminent degree, and an English style that has been described as "a long bright river of silver speech which unwound, evenly and endlessly, like a ribbon from a revolving spool that could fill itself as fast as it emptied itself." Thirty-eight volumes of his sermons were issued in his lifetime and are still in increasing demand. Dr. Robertson Nicoll says: "Our children will think more of these sermons than we do; and as I get older I read them more and more." He died in 1892. SPURGEON 1834--1892 SONGS IN THE NIGHT _But none saith, Where is God my maker, who giveth songs in the night_?--Job xxxv., 10. Elihu was a wise man, exceeding wise, tho not as wise as the all-wise Jehovah, who sees light in the clouds, and finds order in confusion; hence Elihu, being much puzzled at beholding Job thus afflicted, cast about him to find the cause of it, and he very wisely hit upon one of the most likely reasons, altho it did not happen to be the right one in Job's case. He said within himself--"Surely, if men be tried and troubled exceedingly, it is because, while they think about their troubles and distress themselves about their fears, they do not say, 'Where is God my maker, who giveth songs in the night?'" Elihu's reason was right in the majority of cases. The great cause of the Christian's distress, the reason of the depths of sorrow into which many believers are plunged, is this--that while they are looking about, on the right hand and on the left, to see how they may escape their troubles, they forget to look to the hills whence all real help cometh; they do not say, "Where is God my maker, who giveth songs in the night?" We shall, however, leave that inquiry, and dwell upon those sweet words, "God my maker, who giveth songs in the night." The world hath its night. It seemeth necessary that it should have one. The sun shineth by day, and men go forth to their labors; but they grow weary, and nightfall cometh on, like a sweet boon from heaven. The darkness draweth the curtains, and shutteth out the light, which might prevent our eyes from slumber; while the sweet, calm stillness of the night permits us to rest upon the lap of ease, and there forget awhile our cares, until the morning sun appeareth, and an angel puts his hand upon the curtain, and undraws it once again, touches our eyelids, and bids us rise, and proceed to the labors of the day. Night is one of the greatest blessings men enjoy; we have many reasons to thank God for it. Yet night is to many a gloomy season. There is "the pestilence that walketh in darkness"; there is "the terror by night"; there is the dread of robbers and of fell disease, with all those fears that the timorous know, when they have no light wherewith they can discern objects. It is then they fancy that spiritual creatures walk the earth; tho, if they knew rightly, they would find it to be true, that "Millions of spiritual creatures walk this earth, Unseen, both when we sleep and when we wake," and that at all times they are round about us--not more by night than by day. Night is the season of terror and alarm to most men. Yet even night hath its songs. Have you never stood by the seaside at night, and heard the pebbles sing, and the waves chant God's glories? Or have you never risen from your couch, and thrown up the window of your chamber, and listened there? Listened to what? Silence--save now and then a murmuring sound, which seems sweet music then. And have you not fancied that you heard the harp of God playing in heaven? Did you not conceive, that yon stars, that those eyes of God, looking down on you, were also mouths of song--that every star was singing God's glory, singing, as it shone, its mighty Maker, and His lawful, well-deserved praise? Night hath its songs. We need not much poetry in our spirit, to catch the song of night, and hear the spheres as they chant praises which are loud to the heart, tho they be silent to the ear--the praises of the mighty God, who bears up the unpillared arch of heaven, and moves the stars in their courses.... If we are going to sing of the things of yesterday, let us begin with what God did for us in past times. My beloved brethren, you will find it a sweet subject for song at times, to begin to sing of electing love and covenanted mercies. When thou thyself art low, it is well to sing of the fountain-head of mercy; of that blest decree wherein thou wast ordained to eternal life, and of that glorious Man who undertook thy redemption; of that solemn covenant signed, and sealed, and ratified, in all things ordered well; of that everlasting love which, ere the hoary mountains were begotten, or ere the aged hills were children, chose thee, loved thee firmly, loved thee fast, loved thee well, loved thee eternally. I tell thee, believer, if thou canst go back to the years of eternity; if thou canst in thy mind run back to that period, or ere the everlasting hills were fashioned, or the fountains of the great deep scooped out, and if thou canst see thy God inscribing thy name in His eternal book; if thou canst see in His loving heart eternal thoughts of love to thee, thou wilt find this a charming means of giving thee songs in the night. No songs like those which come from electing love; no sonnets like those that are dictated by meditations on discriminating mercy. Some, indeed, cannot sing of election: the Lord open their mouths a little wider! Some there are that are afraid of the very term; but we only despise men who are afraid of what they believe, afraid of what God has taught them in His Bible. No, in our darker hours it is our joy to sing: "Sons we are through God's election, Who in Jesus Christ believe; By eternal destination, Sovereign grace we now receive. Lord, thy favor, Shall both grace and glory give." Think, Christian, of the yesterday, I say, and thou wilt get a song in the night. But if thou hast not a voice tuned to so high a key as that, let me suggest some other mercies thou mayest sing of; and they are the mercies thou hast experienced. What! man, canst thou not sing a little of that blest hour when Jesus met thee; when, a blind slave, thou wast sporting with death, and He saw thee, and said: "Come, poor slave, come with me"? Canst thou not sing of that rapturous moment when He snapt thy fetters, dashed thy chains to the earth, and said: "I am the Breaker; I came to break thy chains, and set thee free"? What tho thou art ever so gloomy now, canst thou forget that happy morning, when in the house of God thy voice was loud, almost as a seraph's voice, in praise? for thou couldst sing: "I am forgiven; I am forgiven": "A monument of grace, A sinner saved by blood." Go back, man; sing of that moment, and then thou wilt have a song in the night? Or if thou hast almost forgotten that, then sure thou hast some precious milestone along the road of life that is not quite grown over with moss, on which thou canst read some happy inspiration of His mercy toward thee! What! didst thou never have a sickness like that which thou art suffering now, and did He not raise thee up from that? Wast thou never poor before, and did He not supply thy wants? Wast thou never in straits before, and did He not deliver thee? Come, man! I beseech thee, go to the river of thine experience, and pull up a few bulrushes, and weave them into an ark, wherein thy infant faith may float safely on the stream. I bid thee not forget what God hath done. What! hast thou buried thine own diary? I beseech thee, man, turn over the book of thy remembrance. Canst thou not see some sweet hill Mizar? Canst thou not think of some blest hour when the Lord met with thee at Hermon? Hast thou never been on the Delectable Mountains? Hast thou never been fetched from the den of lions? Hast thou never escaped the jaw of the lion and the paw of the bear? Nay, O man, I know thou hast; go back, then, a little way, and take the mercies of yesterday; and tho it is dark now, light up the lamps of yesterday, and they shall glitter through the darkness, and thou shalt find that God hath given thee a song in the night. But I think, beloved, there is never so dark a night, but there is something to sing about, even concerning that night; for there is one thing I am sure we can sing about, let the night be ever so dark, and that is, "It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, and because His compassions fail not." If we cannot sing very loud, yet we can sing a little low tune, something like this--"He hath not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities." "Oh!" says one, "I do not know where to get my dinner from to-morrow. I am a poor wretch." So you may be, my dear friend; but you are not so poor as you deserve to be. Do not be mightily offended about that; if you are, you are no child of God; for the child of God acknowledges that he has no right to the least of God's mercies, but that they come through the channel of grace alone. As long as I am out of hell, I have no right to grumble; and if I were in hell I should have no right to complain, for I feel, when convinced of sin, that never creature deserved to go there more than I do. We have no cause to murmur; we can lift up our hands, and say, "Night! thou art dark, but thou mightst have been darker. I am poor, but, if I could not have been poorer, I might have been sick. I am poor and sick--well, I have some friend left, my lot cannot be so bad, but it might have been worse." And therefore, Christian, you will always have one thing to sing about--"Lord, I thank Thee, it is not all darkness!" Besides, Christian, however dark the night is, there is always a star or moon. There is scarce ever a night that we have, but there are just one or two little lamps burning up there. However dark it may be, I think you may find some little comfort, some little joy, some little mercy left, and some little promise to cheer thy spirit. The stars are not put out, are they? Nay, if thou canst not see them, they are there; but methinks one or two must be shining on thee; therefore give God a song in the night. If thou hast only one star, bless God for that one, perhaps He will make it two; and if thou hast only two stars, bless God for the two stars, and perhaps He will make them four. Try, then, if thou canst not find a song in the night. But, beloved, there is another thing of which we can sing yet more sweetly; and that is, we can sing of the day that is to come. I am preaching to-night for the poor weavers of Spitalfields. Perhaps there are not to be found a class of men in London who are suffering a darker night than they are; for while many classes have been befriended and defended, there are few who speak up for them, and (if I am rightly informed) they are generally ground down within an inch of their lives. I suppose that their masters intend that their bread shall be very sweet, on the principle, that the nearer the ground, the sweeter the grass; for I should think that no people have their grass so near the ground as the weavers of Spitalfields. In an inquiry by the House of Commons last week, it was given in evidence that their average wages amount to seven or eight shillings a week; and that they have to furnish themselves with a room, and work at expensive articles, which my friends and ladies are wearing now, and which they buy as cheaply as possible; but perhaps they do not know that they are made with the blood and bones and marrow of the Spitalfields weavers, who, many of them, work for less than man ought to have to subsist upon. Some of them waited upon me the other day; I was exceedingly pleased with one of them. He said, "Well, sir, it is very hard, but I hope there is better times coming for us." "Well, my friend," I said, "I am afraid you cannot hope for much better times, unless the Lord Jesus Christ comes a second time." "That is just what we hope for," said he. "We do not see there is any chance of deliverance, unless the Lord Jesus Christ comes to establish His kingdom upon the earth; and then He will judge the opprest, and break the oppressors in pieces with an iron rod, and dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel." I was glad my friend had got a song in the night, and was singing about the morning that was coming. Often do I cheer myself with the thought of the coming of the Lord. We preach now, perhaps, with little success; "the kingdoms of this world" are not "become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ"; we send out missionaries; they are for the most part unsuccessful. We are laboring, but we do not see the fruits of our labors. Well, what then? Try a little while; we shall not always labor in vain, or spend our strength for naught. A day is coming, and now is, when every minister of Christ shall speak with unction, when all the servants of God shall preach with power, and when colossal systems of heathenism shall be scattered to the winds. The shout shall be heard, "Alleluia! Alleluia! the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth." For that day do I look; it is to the bright horizon of that second coming that I turn my eyes. My anxious expectation is, that the sweet Sun of righteousness will arise with healing beneath His wings, that the opprest shall be righted, that despotisms shall be cut down, that liberty shall be established, that peace shall be made lasting, and that the glorious liberty of the gospel shall be extended throughout the known world. Christian! if thou art in a night, think of the morrow; cheer up thy heart with the thought of the coming of thy Lord. There is another sweet to-morrow of which we hope to sing in the night. Soon, beloved, you and I shall lie on our dying bed, and we shall want a song in the night then; and I do not know where we shall get it, if we do not get it from the to-morrow. Kneeling by the bed of an apparently dying saint, last night, I said, "Well, sister, He has been precious to you; you can rejoice in His covenant mercies, and His past loving-kindnesses." She put out her hand, and said, "Ah! sir, do not talk about them now; I want the sinner's Savior as much now as ever; it is not a saint's I want; it is still a sinner's Savior that I am in need of, for I am a sinner still." I found that I could not comfort her with the past; so I reminded her of the golden streets, of the gates of pearl, of the walls of jasper, of the harps of gold, of the songs of bliss; and then her eyes glistened; she said, "Yes, I shall be there soon; I shall meet them by-and-by;" and then she seemed so glad! Ah! believer, you may always cheer yourself with that thought. Thy head may be crowned with thorny troubles now, but it shall wear a starry crown directly; thy hand may be filled with cares--it shall grasp a harp soon, a harp full of music. Thy garments may be soiled with dust now; they shall be white by-and-by. Wait a little longer. Ah! beloved, how despicable our troubles and trials will seem when we look back upon them! Looking at them here in the prospect, they seem immense; but when we get to heaven, we shall then, "With transporting joys recount The labors of our feet." Our trials will seem to us nothing at all. We shall talk to one another about them in heaven, and find all the more to converse about, according as we have suffered more here below. Let us go on, therefore; and if the night be ever so dark, remember there is not a night that shall not have a morning; and that morning is to come by and by. And now I want to tell you, very briefly, what are the excellences of songs in the night above all other songs. In the first place, when you hear a man singing a song in the night--I mean in the night of trouble--you may be quite sure it is a hearty one. Many of you sang very prettily just now, didn't you? I wonder whether you would sing very prettily, if there was a stake or two in Smithfield for all of you who dared to do it? If you sang under pain and penalty, that would show your heart to be in your song. We can all sing very nicely indeed when everybody else sings. It is the easiest thing in the world to open your mouth, and let the words come out; but when the devil puts his hand over your mouth, can you sing then? Can you say, "Tho he slay me, yet will I trust in him"? That is hearty singing; that is real song that springs up in the night. The nightingale singeth most sweetly because she singeth in the night. We know a poet has said that, if she sang by day, she might be thought to sing no more sweetly than the wren. It is the stillness of the night that makes her song sweet. And so doth a Christian's song become sweet and hearty, because it is in the night. Again: the songs we sing in the night will be lasting. Many songs we hear our fellow-creatures singing in the streets will not do to sing by-and-by; I guess they will sing a different kind of tune soon. They can sing nowadays any rollicking, drinking songs; but they will not sing them when they come to die; they are not exactly the songs with which to cross Jordan's billows. It will not do to sing one of those light songs when death and you are having the last tug. It will not do to enter heaven singing one of those unchaste, unholy sonnets. No; but the Christian who can sing in the night will not have to leave off his song; he may keep on singing it forever. He may put his foot in Jordan's stream, and continue his melody; he may wade through it, and keep on singing still, and land himself safe in heaven; and when he is there, there need not be a gap in his strain, but in a nobler, sweeter strain he may still continue singing His power to save. There are a great many of you that think Christian people are a very miserable set, don't you? You say, "Let me sing my song." Ay, but, my dear friends, we like to sing a song that will last; we don't like your songs; they are all froth, like bubbles on the beaker, and they will soon die away and be lost. Give me a song that will last; give me one that will not melt. Oh, give me not the dreamster's gold! he hoards it up, and says, "I'm rich"; and when he waketh, his gold is gone. But give me songs in the night, for they are songs I sing forever. Again: the songs we warble in the night are those that show we have real faith in. God. Many men have just enough faith to trust God as far as they can see Him, and they always sing as far as they can see providence go right; but true faith can sing when its possessors cannot see. It can take hold of God when they cannot discern Him. Songs in the night, too, prove that we have true courage. Many sing by day who are silent by night; they are afraid of thieves and robbers; but the Christian who sings in the night proves himself to be a courageous character. It is the bold Christian who can sing God's sonnets in the darkness. He who can sing songs in the night, too, proves that he has true love to Christ. It is not love to Christ to praise Him while everybody else praises Him; to walk arm in arm with Him when He has the crown on His head is no great deed, I wot; to walk with Christ in rags is something. To believe in Christ when He is shrouded in darkness, to stick hard and fast by the Savior when all men speak ill of Him and forsake Him--that is true faith. He who singeth a song to Christ in the night, singeth the best song in all the world; for He singeth from the heart. I am afraid of wearying you; therefore I shall not dwell on the excellences of night songs, but just, in the last place, show you their use. It is very useful to sing in the night of our troubles, first, because it will cheer ourselves. When you were boys living in the country, and had some distance to go alone at night, don't you remember how you whistled and sang to keep your courage up? Well, what we do in the natural world we ought to do in the spiritual. There is nothing like singing to keep your spirits alive. When we have been in trouble, we have often thought ourselves to be well-nigh overwhelmed with difficulty; and we have said, "Let us have a song." We have begun to sing; and Martin Luther says, "The devil cannot bear singing." That is about the truth; he does not like music. It was so in Saul's days: an evil spirit rested on Saul; but when David played on his harp, the evil spirit went away from him. This is usually the case: if we can begin to sing we shall remove our fears. I like to hear servants sometimes humming a tune at their work; I love to hear a plowman in the country singing as he goes along with his horses. Why not? You say he has no time to praise God; but he can sing a song--surely he can sing a Psalm, it will take no more time. Singing is the best thing to purge ourselves of evil thoughts. Keep your mouth full of songs, and you will often keep your heart full of praises; keep on singing as long as you can; you will find it a good method of driving away your fears. Sing, again, for another reason: because it will cheer your companions. If any of them are in the valley and in the darkness with you, it will be a great help to comfort them. John Bunyan tells us, that as Christian was going through the valley he found it a dreadful dark place, and terrible demons and goblins were all about him, and poor Christian thought he must perish for certain; but just when his doubts were the strongest, he heard a sweet voice; he listened to it, and he heard a man in front of him saying, "Yea, when I pass through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil." Now, that man did not know who was near him, but he was unwittingly singing to cheer a man behind. Christian, when you are in trouble, sing; you do not know who is near you. Sing, perhaps you will get a companion by it. Sing! perhaps there will be many a heart cheered by your song. There is some broken spirit, it may be, that will be bound up by your sonnets. Sing! there is some poor distrest brother, perhaps, shut up in the Castle of Despair, who, like King Richard, will hear your song inside the walls, and sing to you again, and you may be the means of getting him a ransom. Sing, Christian, wherever you go; try, if you can, to wash your face every morning in a bath of praise. When you go down from your chamber, never go to look on man till you have first looked on your God; and when you have looked on Him, seek to come down with a face beaming with joy; carry a smile, for you will cheer up many a poor way-worn pilgrim by it. One more reason; and I know it will be a good one for you. Try and sing in the night, Christian, for that is one of the best arguments in all the world in favor of your religion. Our divines nowadays spend a great deal of time in trying to prove Christianity against those who disbelieve it. I should like to have seen Paul trying that! Elymas the sorcerer withstood him: how did our friend Paul treat him? He said, "Oh, full of all subtlety and all mischief, thou child of the devil, thou enemy of the righteousness, wilt thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the Lord?" That is about the politeness such men ought to have who deny God's truth. "We start with this assumption: we will prove that the Bible is God's word, but we are not going to prove God's word. If you do not like to believe it, we will shake hands, and bid you good-by; we will not argue with you. The gospel has gained little by discussion. The greatest piece of folly on earth has been to send a man round the country, to follow another up who has been lecturing on infidelity just to make himself notorious. Why, let them lecture on; this is a free country; why should we follow them about? The truth will win the day. Christianity need not wish for controversy; it is strong enough for it, if it wishes it; but that is not God's way. God's direction is, "Preach, teach, dogmatize." Do not stand disputing; claim a divine mission; tell men that God says it, and there leave it. Say to them, "He that believeth shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned"; and when you have done that, you have done enough. For what reason should our missionaries stand disputing with Brahmins? Why should they be wasting their time by attempting to refute first this dogma, and then another, of heathenism? Why not just go and say, "The God whom ye ignorantly worship, I declare unto you; believe me, and you will be saved; believe me not, and the Bible says you are lost." And then, having thus asserted God's word, say, "I leave it, I declare it unto you; it is a thing for you to believe, not a thing for you to reason about." Religion is not a thing merely for your intellect; a thing to prove your own talent upon, by making a syllogism on it; it is a thing that demands your faith. As a messenger of heaven, I demand that faith; if you do not choose to give it, on your own head be the doom, if there be such, if there be not, you are prepared to risk it. But I have done my duty; I have told you the truth; that is enough, and there I leave it. Oh, Christian, instead of disputing, let me tell thee how to prove your religion. Live it out! Live it out! Give the external as well as the internal evidence; give the external evidence of your own life. You are sick; there is your neighbor who laughs at religion; let him come into your house. When he was sick, he said, "Oh, send for the doctor"; and there he was fretting, and fuming, and whining, and making all manner of noises. When you are sick, send for him, tell him that you are resigned to the Lord's will; that you will kiss the chastening rod; that you will take the cup, and drink it, because your Father gives it. You do not need to make a boast of this, or it will lose all its power; but do it because you cannot help doing it. Your neighbor will say, "There is something in that." And when you come to the borders of the grave--he was there once, and you heard how he shrieked, and how frightened he was--give him your hand, and say to him, "Ah! I have a Christ that will do to die by; I have a religion that will make me sing in the night." Let me hear how you can sing, "Victory, victory, victory!" through Him that loved you. I tell you, we may preach fifty thousand sermons to prove the gospel, but we shall not prove it half so well as you will through singing in the night. Keep a cheerful frame; keep a happy heart; keep a contented spirit; keep your eye up, and your heart aloft, and you prove Christianity better than all the Butlers, and all the wise men that ever lived. Give them the analogy of a holy life, and then you will prove religion to them; give them, the evidence of internal piety, developed externally, and you will give the best possible proof of Christianity. POTTER MEMORIAL DISCOURSE ON PHILLIPS BROOKS BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Henry Codman Potter was born at Schenectady, New York, in 1834, and was graduated from the Theological Seminary of Virginia in 1857. He was appointed rector of Grace Protestant Episcopal Church, New York, in 1868, and was coadjutor to his uncle, Horatio Potter, from 1883 to 1887, when he was made Bishop of the Diocese of New York. He won considerable distinction as a clear-cut and eloquent speaker. He dealt in pulpit and on platform, with many public questions, such as temperance, capital and labor, civic righteousness, and the purifying of East Side slum life. He advocated personal freedom, and invariably spoke with authority. He was particularly happy as an after-dinner speaker. He died in 1908. POTTER 1834--1908 MEMORIAL DISCOURSE ON PHILLIPS BROOKS[1] [Footnote 1: Reprinted by permission of Bishop Henry C. Potter and The Century Company, publishers of "The Scholar and the State."] _It is the spirit that quickeneth; the flesh profiteth nothing: the words I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life_.--John vi., 63. He who stops over-long in the mere mechanism of religion is verily missing that for which religion stands. Here, indeed, it must be owned is, if not our greatest danger, one of the greatest. All life is full of that strange want of intellectual and moral perspective which fails to see how secondary, after all, are means to ends; and how he only has truly apprehended the office of religion who has learned, when undertaking in any wise to present it or represent it, to hold fast to that which is the one central thought and fact of all: "It is the spirit that quickeneth; the flesh profiteth nothing: the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life." And this brings me--in how real and vivid a way I am sure you must feel as keenly as I--face to face with him of whom I am set to speak to-day. Never before in the history, not only of our communion, but of any or all communions, has the departure of a religious teacher been more widely noted and deplored than in the case of him of whom this Commonwealth and this diocese have been bereaved. Never before, surely, in case of any man whom we can recall, has the sense of loss and bereavement been more distinctly a personal one,--extending to multitudes in two hemispheres who did not know him, who had never seen or heard him, and yet to whom he had revealed himself in such real and helpful ways. It has followed, inevitably, from this, that that strong tide of profound feeling has found expression in many and most unusual forms, and it will be among the most interesting tasks of the future biographer of the late Bishop of Massachusetts to take note of these various memorials and to trace in them the secret of his unique power and influence. But just because they have, so many of them, in such remarkable variety and from sources so diverse, been written or spoken, and no less because a memoir of Phillips Brooks is already undertaken by hands preeminently designated for that purpose, I may wisely here confine myself to another and very different task. I shall not attempt, therefore, even the merest outline of a biographical review. I shall not undertake to analyze, nor, save incidentally, even to refer to, the influences and inheritances that wrought in the mind and upon the life of your late friend and teacher. I shall still less attempt to discover the open secret of his rare and unique charm and attractiveness as a man; and I shall least of all endeavor to forecast the place which history will give to him among the leaders and builders of our age. Brief as was his ministry in his higher office, and to our view all too soon ended, I shall be content to speak of him as a bishop,--of his divine right, as I profoundly believe, to a place in the episcopate, and of the preeminent value of his distinctive and incomparable witness to the highest aim and purpose of that office. And first of all let me say a word in regard to the way in which he came to it. When chosen to the episcopate of this diocese, your late bishop had already, at least once, as we all know, declined the office. It was well known to those who knew him best that, as he had viewed it for a large part of his ministry, it was a work for which he had no especial sympathy either as to its tasks, or, as he had understood them, its opportunities. But the time undoubtedly came when, as to this, he modified his earlier opinions; and the time came too, as I am most glad to think, when he was led to feel that if he were called to such an office he might find in it an opportunity for widening his own sympathies and for estimating more justly those with whom previously he had believed himself to have little in common. It was the inevitable condition of his strong and deep convictions that he should not always or easily understand or make due allowance for men of different opinions. It was--God and you will bear me witness that this is true!--one of the noblest characteristics of his fifteen months' episcopate that, as a bishop, men's rightful liberty of opinion found in him not only a large and generous tolerance, but a most beautiful and gracious acceptance. He seized, instantly and easily, that which will be forever the highest conception of the episcopate in its relations whether to the clergy or the laity, its paternal and fraternal character; and his "sweet reasonableness," both as a father and as a brother, shone through all that he was and did. For one, I greatly love to remember this,--that when the time came he himself, with the simple naturalness which marked all that he did, was brought to reconsider his earlier attitude toward the episcopal office, and to express with characteristic candor his readiness to take up its work if he should be chosen to it; he turned to his new, and to him most strange, task with a supreme desire to do it in a loving and whole-hearted way, and to make it helpful to every man, woman, and child with whom he came in contact. What could have been more like him than that, in that last address which he delivered to the choir-boys at Newton, he should have said to them, "When you meet me let me know that you know me." Another might easily have been misunderstood in asking those whom he might by chance encounter to salute him; but he knew, and the boys knew, what he had in mind,--how he and they were all striving to serve one Master, and how each--he most surely as much as they--was to gain strength and cheer from mutual recognition in the spirit of a common brotherhood. And thus it was always; and this it was that allied itself so naturally to that which was his never-ceasing endeavor--to lift all men everywhere to that which was, with him, the highest conception of his office, whether as a preacher or as a bishop,--the conception of God as a Father, and of the brotherhood of all men as mutually related in Him. In an address which he delivered during the last General Convention in Baltimore to the students of Johns Hopkins University, he spoke substantially these words: "In trying to win a man to a better life, show him not the evil but the nobleness of his nature. Lead him to enthusiastic contemplations of humanity;" in its perfection, and when he asks, 'Why, if this is so, do not I have this life?'--then project on the background of his enthusiasm his own life; say to him, 'Because you are a liar, because you blind your soul with licentiousness, shame is born,--but not a shame of despair. It is soon changed to joy. Christianity becomes an opportunity, a high privilege, the means of attaining to the most exalted ideal--and the only means.' "Herein must lie all real power; herein lay Christ's power, that he appreciated the beauty and richness of humanity, that it is very near the Infinite, very near to God. These two facts--we are the children of God, and God is our Father--make us look very differently at ourselves, very differently at our neighbors, very differently at God. We should be surprized, not at our good deeds, but at our bad ones. We should expect good as more likely to occur than evil; we should believe that our best moments are our truest. I was once talking with an acquaintance about whose religious position I knew nothing, and he exprest a very hopeful opinion in regard to a matter about which I was myself very doubtful. "'Why, I said to him, 'You are an optimist.' "'Of course I am an optimist,' he replied, because I am a Christian.' "I felt that as a reproof. The Christian must be an optimist." Men and brethren, I set these words over against those of his Master with which I began, and the two in essence are one. "The words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life." There is a life nobler and diviner than any that we have dreamed of. To the poorest and meanest of us, as to the best and most richly-dowered, it is alike open. To turn toward it, to reach up after it, to believe in its ever-recurring nearness, and to glorify God in attaining to it, this is the calling of a human soul. Now then, what, I ask you, is all the rest of religion worth in comparison with this?--not what is it worth in itself, but what is its place relatively to this? This, I maintain, is the supreme question for the episcopate, as it ought to be the supreme question with the ministry of any and every order. And therefore it is, I affirm, that, in bringing into the episcopate with such unique vividness and power this conception of his office, your bishop rendered to his order and to the Church of God everywhere a service so transcendent. A most gifted and sympathetic observer of our departed brother's character and influence has said of him, contrasting him with the power of institution, "His life will always suggest the importance of the influence of the individual man as compared with institutional Christianity." In one sense, undoubtedly, this is true; but I should prefer to say that his life-work will always show the large and helpful influence of a great soul upon institutional Christianity. It is a superficial and unphilosophical temperament that disparages institutions; for institutions are only another name for that organized force and life by which God rules the world. But it is undoubtedly and profoundly true that you no sooner have an institution, whether in society, in politics, or in religion, than you are threatened with the danger that the institution may first exaggerate itself and then harden and stiffen into a machine; and that in the realm of religion, preeminently, those whose office it should be to quicken and infuse it with new life should themselves come at last to "worship the net and the drag." And just here you find in the history of religion in all ages the place of the prophet and the seer. He is to pierce through the fabric of the visible structure to that soul of things for which it stands. When, in Isaiah, the Holy Ghost commands the prophet, "Lift up thy voice with strength; lift it up, be not afraid: say unto the cities of Judah, Behold your God!" it is not alone, you see, his voice that lie is to lift up. No, no! It is the vision of the unseen and divine. "Say unto the cities of Judah, Behold your God!" Over and over again that voice breaks in upon the slumbrous torpor of Israel and smites the dead souls of priests and people alike. Now it is a Balaam, now it is an Elijah, a David, an Isaiah, a John the Baptist, a Paul the Apostle, a Peter the Hermit, a Savonarola, a Huss, a Whitefield, a Wesley, a Frederick Maurice, a Frederick Robertson, a Phillips Brooks. Do not mistake me. I do not say that there were not many others. But these names are typical, and that for which they stand cannot easily be mistaken. I affirm without qualification that, in that gift of vision and of exaltation for which they stand, they stand for the highest and the best,--that one thing for which the Church of God most of all stands, and of which so long as it is the Church Militant it will most of all stand in need: to know that the end of all its mechanisms and ministries is to impart life, and that nothing which obscures or loses sight of the eternal source of life can regenerate or quicken;--to teach men to cry out, with St. Augustine, "_Fecisti nos ad te, Domine, et inquietum est cor nostrum donec requiescat in te_": Thou hast made us for Thyself, O Lord, and our heart is unquiet until its rests in Thee,--this however, as any one may be tempted to fence and juggle with the fact, is the truth on which all the rest depends. Unfortunately it is a truth which there is much in the tasks and engagements of the episcopate to obscure. A bishop is preeminently, at any rate in the popular conception of him, an administrator; and howsoever wide of the mark this popular conception may be from the essential idea of the office, it must be owned that there is much in a bishop's work in our day to limit his activities, and therefore his influence, within such a sphere. To recognize his prophetic office as giving expression to that mission of the Holy Ghost of which he is preeminently the representative, to illustrate it upon a wider instead of a narrower field, to recognize and seize the greater opportunities for its exercise, to be indeed "a leader and commander" to the people, not by means of the petty mechanisms of officialism, but by the strong, strenuous, and unwearied proclamation of the truth; under all conditions to make the occasion somehow a stepping-stone to that mount of vision from which men may see God and righteousness and become sensible of the nearness of both to themselves,--this, I think you will agree with me, is no unworthy use of the loftiest calling and the loftiest gifts. And such a use was his. A bishop-elect, walking with him one day in the country, was speaking, with not unnatural shrinking and hesitancy, of the new work toward which he was soon to turn his face, and said among other things, "I have a great dread, in the Episcopate, of perfunctoriness. In the administration, especially, of confirmation, it seems almost impossible, in connection with its constant repetition, to avoid it." He was silent a moment, and then said, "I do not think that it need be so. The office indeed is the same. But every class is different; and then--think what it is to them! It seems to me that that thought can never cease to move one." What a clear insight the answer gave to his own ministry. One turns back to his first sermon, that evening when, with his fellow-student in Virginia, he walked across the fields to the log-cabin where, not yet in holy orders, he preached it, and where afterward he ministered with such swiftly increasing power to a handful of negro servants. "It was an utter failure," he said afterward. Yes, perhaps; but all through the failure he struggled to give expression to that of which his soul was full; and I do not doubt that even then they who heard him somehow understood him. We pass from those first words to the last,--those of which I spoke a moment ago,--the address to the choir-boys at Newton,--was there ever such, an address to choir-boys before? He knew little or nothing about the science of music, and with characteristic candor he at once said so. But he passed quickly from the music to those incomparable words of which the music was the mere vehicle and vesture. He bade the lads to whom he spoke think of those who, long ago and all the ages down, had sung that matchless Psalter,--of the boys and men of other times, and what it had meant to them. And then, as he looked into their fresh young faces and saw the long vista of life stretching out before them, he bade them think of that larger and fuller meaning which was to come into those Psalms of David, when he,--was there some prophetic sense of how soon with him the end would be?--when he and such as he had passed away,--what new doors were to open, what deeper meanings were to be discerned, what nobler opportunities were to dawn, as the years hastened swiftly on toward their august and glorious consummation! How it all lifts us up as we read it, and how like it was to that "one sermon" which he forever preached! And in saying so I do not forget what that was which some men said was missing in it. His, they tell us--who hold some dry and formalized statement of the truth so close to the eye that it obscures all larger vision of it,--his, they tell us, was an "invertebrate theology." Of what he was and spoke, such a criticism is as if one said of the wind, that divinely appointed symbol of the Holy Ghost, "it has no spine nor ribs." A spine and ribs are very necessary things; but we bury them as so much chalk and lime when once the breath has gone out of them! In the beginning we read, "And the Lord God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul." And all along since then there have been messengers of God into whom the same divine breath has been, as it were, without measure breathed, and who have been the quickeners and inspirers of their fellows. Nothing less than this can explain that wholly exceptional and yet consistent influence which he whom we mourn gave forth. It was not confined or limited by merely personal or physical conditions, but breathed with equal and quickening power through all that he taught and wrote. There were multitudes who never saw or heard him, but by whom nevertheless he was as intimately known and understood as if he had been their daily companion. Never was there an instance which more truly fulfilled the saying, "The words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life." They reached down to the inmost need of empty and aching hearts and answered it. They spoke to that in the most sin-stained and wayward soul which is, after all, the image of the invisible God,--spoke to it, touched it, constrained it. "What has this fine-bred Boston scholar," plain men asked, when he bade him come to us and preach in our Trinity--"what has such an one to say to the business men of Wall Street?" But when he came, straightway every man found out that he had indeed something to say to him,--a word of power, a word of hope, a word of enduring joy and strength! A kindred thinker of large vision and rare insight, New England born and nurtured like himself, speaking of him not long after his death, said: "There are three forms pertaining to the Christian truths: they are true as facts, they are true as doctrines intellectually apprehended, they are true as spiritual experiences to be realized. Bishop Brooks struck directly for the last. In the spirit he found the truth; and only as he could get it into a spiritual form did he conceive it to have power. "It was because he assumed the facts as true in the main, refusing to insist on petty accuracy, and passed by doctrinal forms concerning which there might be great divergence of opinion, and carried his thought on into the world of spirit, that he won so great a hearing and such conviction of belief. For it is the spirit that gives common standing-ground; it says substantially the same thing in all men. Speak as a spirit to the spiritual nature of men, and they will respond, because in the spirit they draw near to their common source and to the world to which all belong. "It was because he dealt with this common factor of the human and the divine nature that he was too positive and practical. In the spirit it is all yea and amen; there is no negative; in the New Jerusalem there is no night. We can describe this feature of his ministry by words from, one of his own sermons: 'It has always been through men of belief, not unbelief, that power from God has poured into man. It is not the discriminating critic, but he whose beating, throbbing life offers itself a channel for the divine force,--he is the man through, whom the world grows rich, and whom it remembers, remembers with perpetual thanksgiving.'" And shall not you who are here to-day thank God that such a man was, tho for so brief a space, your bishop? Some there were, you remember, who thought that those greater spiritual gifts of his would unfit him for the business of practical affairs. "A bishop's daily round," they said, "his endless correspondence, his hurried journeyings, his weight of anxious cares, the misadventures of other men, ever returning to plague him,--how can he bring himself to stoop and deal with these?" But as in so much else that was transcendent in him, how little here, too, his critics understood him! No more pathetic proof of this has come to light than in that testimony of one among you who, as his private secretary, stood in closest and most intimate relations to him. What a story that is which he has given to us of a great soul--faithful always in the greatest? Yes, but no less faithful in the least. There seems a strange, almost grotesque impossibility in the thought that such an one should ever have come to be regarded as "a stickler for the canons." But we look a little deeper than the surface, and all that is incongruous straightway disappears. His was the realm of a divine order,--his was the office of his Lord's servant. God had called him. He had put him where he was. He had set his Church to be His witness in the world, and in it, all His children, the greatest with the least, to walk in ways of reverent appointment. Those ways might irk and cramp him sometimes. They did: he might speak of them with sharp impatience and seeming disesteem sometimes. He did that too, now and then,--for he was human like the rest of us! But mark you this, my brothers, for, in an age which, under one figment or another, whether of more ancient or more modern license, is an age of much self-will,--we shall do well to remember it,--his was a life of orderly and consistent obedience to rule. He kept to the Church's plain and stately ways: kept to them and prized them too. But all the while he held his soul wide open to the vision of his Lord! Up out of a routine that seemed to others that did not know or could not understand him, and who vouchsafed to him much condescending compassion for a bondage which he never felt, and of which in vain they strove to persuade him to complain,--up out of the narrower round in which so faithfully he walked, from time to time he climbed, and came back bathed in a heavenly light, with lips aglow with heavenly fire. The Spirit had spoken to him, and so he spoke to us. "The flesh profiteth nothing: it is the spirit that quickeneth. The words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life." And so we thank God not alone for his message, but that it was given to him to speak it as a bishop in the Church of God. We thank God that in a generation that so greatly needs to cry, as our _Te Deum_ teaches us, "Govern us and lift us up!" he was given to the Church not alone to rule but to uplift. What bishop is there who may not wisely seek to be like him by drawing forever on those fires of the Holy Ghost that set his lips aflame? Nay, what soul among us all is there that may not wisely seek to ascend up into that upper realm in which he walked, and by whose mighty airs his soul was filled? Unto the almighty and ever-living God we yield most high praise and hearty thanks for the wonderful grace and virtue declared in all His saints who have been the chosen vessels of His grace and the lights of the world in their several generations; but here and to-day especially for his servant, Phillips Brooks, some time of this Commonwealth and this diocese, true prophet, true priest, true bishop, to the glory of God the Father. ABBOTT THE DIVINITY IN HUMANITY BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Lyman Abbott was born at Roxbury, Mass., in 1835. As successor to Henry Ward Beecher, at Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, he ministered with great spiritual power until 1898, when he resigned his pastorate to devote his entire time to _The Outlook_, of which he was, and still is, the editor. Dr. Abbott's conception of the minister's work is briefly summed up in his own words: "Whenever a minister forgets the splendid message of pardon, peace and power based on faith in Jesus Christ as God manifest in the flesh, whenever for this message he substitutes literary lectures, critical essays, sociological disquisitions, theological controversies, or even ethical interpretations of the universal conscience, whenever, in other words, he ceases to be a Christian preacher and becomes a lyceum or seminary lecturer, he divests himself of that which in all ages of the world has been the power of the Christian ministry, and will be its power so long as men have sins to be forgiven, temptations to conquer, and sorrows to be assuaged." ABBOTT BORN IN 1835 THE DIVINITY IN HUMANITY _Jesus answered them, Is it not written in your law, I said, ye are gods? If he called them gods, unto whom the word of God came, and the scripture cannot be broken; say ye of him, whom the Father hath sanctified, and sent into the world, thou blasphemest; because I said, I am the Son of God_?--John X., 34-36. The context and argument is this: Jesus Christ has declared that He will give unto His sheep eternal life; and that no one can pluck them out of His hand, because He and His Father are one; and the Father who gives these sheep to His care and keeping is greater than all the forces that are leagued against them. Thereat the Jews took up stones against Him, saying: "Being a man thou makest thyself equal with God." And Christ answers with our text. He refers them back to the Old Testament, which, He says, declares of the judges of Israel, of the men to whom the inspiration of God came, that they are divine. "Why, then," He says, "do you accuse Me of blasphemy because I claim divinity?" It is impossible to consider this a mere play upon the word; that Christ uses the word God in one sense in one paragraph and in another sense in the paragraph immediately following. It is impossible to conceive that this is a kind of sacred pun. No, no; the argument is clear and unmistakable. According to your Old Testament scripture, He says, the men in whom and to whom and through whom the power and grace of God are manifested are themselves the partakers of the divine nature. If that is so, if the men of the olden times, patriarchs and prophets, through whom the divine nature was manifested--if they are divine, do not accuse me of blasphemy because I claim for Myself divinity. If in this message, on the one hand, Christ claims kinship with God, on the other He lifts the whole of humanity up with Him and makes the claim for them. The religion of the Old Testament and the New Testament, the religion of Christianity and of Judaism, is a religion of faith in God. But it is not less truly a religion of faith in man, and of faith in man because man is a child of God. And the one faith would be utterly useless without the other. For faith in God is effective because it is accompanied with faith in man as the child of God. And in this faith in man is the inspiration of all human progress. _Faith_ in man, I say. Faith sees something which the eye does not see. Faith sees something which the reason does not perceive. Faith is not irrational, but it perceives a transcendent truth, over beyond that which the sense perceives. Faith is always intermixed with hope and with a great expectation, either with a hope because it sees something which is not yet but will be, or else with a hope because it sees something which is not yet seen but will be seen. Faith in a man is not a belief that man is to-day a great, noble character, but it is a perception in man of dormant possibilities of greatness and nobility which time and God will develop. It is only the man who has faith in man who can really interpret man. It is faith in man that gives us all true human insight. The difference between a photograph and a portrait is this: the photograph gives the outward feature, and stops there; and most of us, when we stand in a photograph saloon to have our picture taken, hide our soul away. The artist sees the soul behind the man, knows him, understands something of his nature, and paints the soul that looks out through the eyes. He sees in the man something which the sun does not exhibit, and makes that something shine on the canvas. The artist in literature sees an ideal humanity, and interprets it. Realism in literature does not portray the real man. Anthony Trollope pictures the Englishman as he is to-day, and society as any man may take it with a kodak; but Dickens gives Toby Veck and Tiny Tim; George Eliot, Adam Bede and Dinah Morris. Men say that no such boy ever lived as MacDonald has portrayed in Sir Gibbie. In every street Arab is a possible Sir Gibbie; and MacDonald has seen the possible and shown us what Christianity may make out of a street Arab. In this perception of a possible in man lies the spirit of all progress in science. The man of practical science laughs at the notion of an iron railway on which steam cars shall travel faster than English coaches. But the man of faith in men, who believes that it is in the power of men to dominate the powers of nature, builds the road. The man of practical science laughs at the notion that we can reach up our hands into the clouds and draw down the lightning. But Franklin does it. The man of faith is sometimes mistaken, but he is always experimenting, because he always believes that man to-morrow will be more than man is to-day or was yesterday. And all progress in civilization has its secret in this great faith in man as a being that has a mastery, not yet interpreted, not yet understood, not yet comprehended in its fulness, over all the powers of nature. Now, is there any ground or basis for this faith in man? Have we a right to believe that man is more than he seems to be, as we can see him in the street to-day? Have we a right to build our institutions and fabrics on this belief? Have we a right to think that man can govern himself, or must we go back and say with Carlyle and Ruskin and Voltaire that the great body of men are incompetent to govern themselves, and a few wise rulers must govern them? Have we a right to believe that all the progress that has thus far been made in science is but an augury of progress far greater, reaching into the illimitable? Have we a right to say that these portraits of a possible humanity, this Portia, this Toby Veck, this Tiny Tim, this ideal man and woman, are real men and real women in possibility, if not in the actualities of life? Or are we to think of them as simply phantasmagoria hung up for the delectation of a passing moment? The Bible makes answer to that question,--the Bible preeminently, but the great poets and the great prophets of all religions; the Bible, because the poets and the prophets of the Bible transcend the poets and the prophets of all other religions. And that declaration is that man is made in the image of God, and that God dwells in man and is coming to the manifestation of Himself in growing, developing, redeemed humanity. Our Bible starts out with the declaration that God made man in His own image. The poets take the idea up. MacDonald tells us in that beautiful poem of his, that the babe came through the blue sky and got the blue of his eyes as he came; Wordsworth, that the child's imaginings are the recollected glory of a heavenly home; and the author of the first chapter of Genesis, that God breathed his own breath into the nostrils of man and made him in the image of God. All fancy, all imaginings? But, my dear friends, there is a truth in fancy as well as in science. We need not believe that this aspiration that shows itself in the pure mind of a little child is a trailing glory that he has brought with him from some pre-existent state. We need not think that it is physiological fact that the sky colored the eyes of the babe as the babe came through. Nor need we suppose that man was a clay image into which God breathed a physical breath, so animating him. But beyond all this imagery is the vision of the poet. God in man; a divine life throbbing in humanity; man the offspring of God; man coming forth from the eternal and going forth into the eternal. This is the starting-point of the Bible. Starting with this, it goes on with declaration after declaration based on this fundamental doctrine that man and God in their essential moral attributes have the same nature. It is human experience which is used to interpret divine experience. According to pagan thought, God speaks to men through movements of the stars, through all external phenomena, through even entrails of animals. Seldom so in the Bible, save as when the wise men followed the star, and then that they might come to a divine humanity. In the Old Testament God speaks in human experience, through human experience, about human experience, to typify and interpret and explain Himself. God is like a shepherd that shepherds his flock. God is like a king that rules in justice. He is like the father that provides for his children. He is like the mother that comforts the weeping child. All the experiences of humanity are taken in turn and attributed to God. The hopes, the fears, the sorrows, the joys, the very things which we call faults in men--so strong and courageous are the old prophets in this fundamental faith of theirs that man and God are alike--the very things we call faults in men are attributed to the Almighty. He is declared to hate, to be wrathful, to be angry, to be jealous; because, at the root, every fault is a virtue set amiss; and the very faults of men have in them something that interprets the power and will of God, as the very faults of a boy interpret the virtues of his father. All through the Old Testament God manifests Himself through human experience. He speaks in the hearts of men; He dwells in the experience of men; He interprets Himself through the life of men; and, finally, when this one selected nation which has a genius for spiritual truth has been so far educated that there is no danger that it will go back and worship man, that it will become a mere hero-worshiper, when it has been so far educated that there is no danger of that, then Jesus Christ comes into the world--God manifests Himself in human life. Who, then, is Jesus Christ? Let John tell us. The Oriental world was puzzled about the question of the origin of evil. They said, in brief, a good God cannot make a bad world. Out of a good God, therefore, there have emanated other gods, and out of these gods other gods, until at last there came to be imperfect gods or bad gods. And the world was made, some of them said, partly by a good god and partly by a bad one; and others by an imperfect god who was an emanation of the perfect one. Of these emanations one was Life, another was Light, another was the Word. And John, writing in the age of Oriental philosophy, uses the phraseology of Oriental philosophy in order that he might tell mankind who and what Jesus Christ is. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God." God never was an abstraction; from the very beginning He was a speaking God, a living God, a manifesting God, a forth-putting God. "The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made. And this Word became flesh and dwelt among us (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father), full of grace and truth." Let me put this into modern language. What is it but this? From eternity God has been a manifesting God. When the fulness of time came, God, that He might manifest Himself to His children, came into a human life and dwelt in a human life. He that had spoken here through one prophet, there through another prophet; He that had sent one message in this direction and another in that; He that had spoken through signs and tokens, as the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews says, in divers manners and in fragmentary utterances--when the fulness of time had come, He spoke in one perfect human life, taking entire possession of it and making it His own, that He might manifest Himself in terms of human experience to humanity. Or turn to Paul and let me read you this declaration; "Let this mind be in you which was also in Jesus Christ; who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God, but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of man, and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." What is this, again, but the same declaration? God desiring to show Himself to humanity, entered into one human life, became subject to human conditions, shared the weakness, the wants, the ignorance of humanity, entered into and was identified with one human life. Do I say, then, that Jesus Christ was a man like other men? No. But I do say that in their essential qualities God and man are identical, and God entered into humanity that He might show to humanity what He is. I do say, not that Jesus Christ was a man like other men, but that other men may become like Jesus Christ. I hold a bulb in my one hand and a tulip in my other. Will any man say to me, this beautiful flower with all its rich coloring is like this bulb? Oh, no! But let the sun of God shine long enough on this bulb, put it where it belongs, subject it to the conditions of life, and this bulb will become like this flower. Man is made in the image of God. All that is in man that is not in God's image does not belong to man's nature. Natural depravity? There is no natural depravity. Depravity is unnatural. Depravity is contra-natural. It is against the whole law of man's being. It is never wrong for any creature God has made to act out the nature which God endowed him with. It is not wicked for a tiger to be ravening. It is not wicked for a snake to be sinuous. It is wicked for man to be ravening or sinuous, because it is against the divine nature that God has put in man. He made man for better things. God made man in His own image, God coming through successive stages, manifesting Himself in successive relations of Himself in human experience, God at last disclosing Himself in one pure, sinless, typical man in order that man through that humanity might know who and what God is--and is that the end? Oh, no! That is the beginning, only the beginning. For what did God come in Christ? Simply to show Himself? Here is a hospital--all manner of sick; the paralytic, the fever-stricken, the consumptive. Is it good news to these hospital bedridden ones if an athlete come in and show them his life, his muscles, the purity of his lungs, the health of his constitution, and then goes out? But if he comes in and says, "My friends, if you will follow my directions I will put into you consumptive ones some of the strength of my lungs, into you fever-stricken ones some of the purity of my blood; into you paralytic ones some of the sinew and muscle I possess--you can become like me," then there is good news in the message. If God came into the world simply to tell us what God is and what the ideal of humanity is, the gospel would be the saddest message that could be conceived, as delivered to the human race. It would add gloom to the gloom, darkness to the darkness, chains to the chains, despair to despair. He comes not merely to show divinity to us, but to impart divinity to us; rather, to evolve the latent divinity which He first implanted in us. As God has entered into Christ, He will enter into me. Christ says to me: As I am patient, you can become patient; as I am strong, you can become strong; as I am pure, you can become pure; as I am the Son of God, you can become the Son of God. Therefore His message is the gospel that it is. Christ is not a man like other men. I can find in the biography of Jesus no trace of sin. In every other biography, oh, how many traces! There is no trace of repentance. The Hebrew Psalmist laments his iniquity. Paul confesses himself to be the chief of sinners. Luther, Calvin, Melanchthon, Edwards--go where I will, in the biography of all the saints there are signs of sin and iniquity. Never a trace of repentance or confession in Christ. In all others we see a struggle after God. "My heart panteth after thee, as the hart panteth after water-brooks." "I count not myself to have attained, but, forgetting those things that are behind, I press forward toward the mark." Never in the written biography of Christ a trace of that aspiration after something not yet reached. On the contrary, a great peace and a great possession. He says: I have come full of life. I have come to give life. This sinless Christ comes that He may give to us that which He Himself possesses; that He may take the sin out of our lives and sorrow out of our hearts, and for the yearning desire give a great, great peace. I have come, He says, that you might have life. How much, Lord and Master? Life more abundantly. What kind of life, Lord and Master? Eternal life. Has He come with that great life of His to give a little and then stop? Nay, to give all to every one that every one will take. I marvel to find Christian men denying that Christ is the type and manifestation and revelation of the possible divinity in universal humanity. It is written all over the Bible. What says Christ Himself? I have come that you might have life, and that you might have it more abundantly. As the Father has sent Me into the world, even so I send you into the world. You shall be My disciples. You shall learn of Me. You shall be My followers, and tread where I have trod. You shall take up My cross, and suffer as I have suffered. The secret of My life shall be the secret of your life. Ye shall be in Me. I will abide with you. Ye shall be as a branch grafted on the vine, drawing the same life as I have, as out of My very veins. As the Father was in Me, so I and My Father will come and abide in you. He breathes upon the disciples and tells them to receive the Spirit that was in Him; and in His last prayer He prays that they may share His glory, that they may be one with the Father, as He is one with the Father. Paul takes up the same refrain and repeats it over and over again. Righteousness in man is the righteousness of God, God's own righteousness coming out of God's heart into human hearts. Ye shall be partakers of the divine nature. Ye shall be joint heirs with the Lord Jesus Christ, inheriting all that Christ inherited from His Father. Ye shall have the same spirit that was in Christ. Metaphor and trope and figure are exhausted in the endeavor of the apostle to set forth this sublime truth. Christ is the servant of God. We are the servants of God. He is the Son of God. We are the sons of God. He is the light of the world. We are the lights of the world. He is a priest forever. We are priests perpetually serving in His temple. He is the one eternal sacrifice. We are to present our bodies a living sacrifice before God. He is dead. We are to die with Him. He has risen. We are to rise with Him. Already we sit in the heavenly place with Christ Jesus. We are changed from glory to glory into His image. We are predestined to be conformed to that image. We are bid to pray that we may be rooted and grounded in Christ, and that with Him, we may be filled with all the fulness of God. Do I say, then, that I am equal to Christ? Or that I shall ever become equal to Christ? No! Let me try to make this plain to the child, and then the rest will perhaps understand it. Here is a great man. He is a great statesman. He is a great poet. He is a great orator. He is a great philosopher. He is a great general. He is Bismarck and Gladstone and Dante and Napoleon and Raphael and Plato all combined in one. And he has children, and this boy is a statesman, and this boy is a general, and this boy is an orator, and this boy is a poet, and this boy is an artist. No one of them comprizes all the genius that was in his father, but each one has one quality of that father, and all the boys together reflect their father's nature. No, I shall never be equal to Christ. But according to the measure of my own capacity, I may reflect even here and now something of Christ and be really Christ-like. Christ is my Master. I acknowledge no other Master than Him. I wish to follow where He leads. I gladly believe whatever He says. And I have no other ambition--oh, I wish it were true that I never had any other ambition!--than to be like Him. But He is my Master because He bids me follow where He leads, because He gives what I can take, because He promised what He will yet fulfil. I believe in the divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is the center of my faith, as He is the center and source of my life. But I do not believe in the medieval formula that Jesus Christ is God and man mysteriously joined together, because to believe that would be to leave me both without an ideal of man which I might follow, and without a manifestation of God to which I might cling. In my country home two Christians quarreled. An atheist went to them and said to one of them, "Your Christ said, 'Forgive all your enemies and love one another.'" "Yes," he said, "Christ was divine. He could. I cannot." But there was nothing of moral virtue that God wrought in Christ that He cannot work in you and me if we give Him time enough. And, on the other hand, this separation of "God" and "man" in Christ denies the real manifestation of God to man. Jesus called His disciples to watch while He wrestled with agony in Gethsemane, and Dean Alford, speaking on Gethsemane, says this was the manifestation in Christ of human weakness. No! no! A thousand times, No! It is the glorious manifestation of that sympathy in God which wants the sympathy of the feeblest of His followers, as the mother wants the sympathy and love of the babe on her lap. "Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it doth not yet appear what we shall be. Only we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is." There are two things we do not know. Genius is always a mystery, spiritual genius the greatest mystery of genius, and Christ the greatest mystery of all. We do not know what we shall be, any more than one who never had seen a garden could guess what the mold would be when the spring had finished its work. Those are two things we do not know. But there are two things we do know. We shall be like Him, and when we are like Him, we shall see Him as He is. We shall be like no imagination of Him, no deteriorated or imperfect conception of Him; but when we come to see Him in all the regal splendor of His character, with all the love, all the justice, all the purity, all the divine glory which is adumbrated and shadowed here because our eyes could not look upon it and still live--when we come to see Him in all the glory of that divine character, we shall be like Him--_we shall be like Him_. BROOKS THE PRIDE OF LIFE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Phillips Brooks was born at Boston, Mass., in 1835, graduated at Harvard in 1855 and studied theology at the P.E. Seminary, Alexandria, Va. He was elected rector of the Church of the Advent, Philadelphia, in 1859, and three years later to that of Holy Trinity in the same city. In 1869 he became rector of Trinity Church, Boston, and was consecrated Bishop of Massachusetts in 1891. He died in 1893. He was in every sense a large man, large in simplicity and sympathy, large in spiritual culture. In his lectures to the students at Yale he spoke of the preparation for the ministry as being nothing less than the making of a man. Said he: "It cannot be the mere training to certain tricks. It cannot be even the furnishing with abundant knowledge. It must be nothing less than the kneading and tempering of a man's whole nature till it becomes of such a consistency and quality as to be capable of transmission. This is the largeness of the preacher's culture." Doctor Brastow describes him thus: "The physical equipment was symbol of his soul; and the rush of his speech was typical of those mental, moral, and spiritual energies that were fused into unity and came forth in a stream of fiery intensity." BROOKS 1835--1893 THE PRIDE OF LIFE[1] [Footnote 1: Published for the first time by the kind permission of William G. Brooks.] _The pride of life_.--1 John ii., 16. John is giving his disciples the old warning not to love the world, that world which then and always is pressing on men's eyes and ears and hearts with all its loveliness and claiming to be loved. "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world.... For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world." What is the pride of life? Pride is one of those words which hover in the middle region between virtue and vice. The materials which under one set of circumstances and in one kind of character make up an honorable self-respect, seem so often to be precisely the same as those which under another set of circumstances and in another kind of character make up arrogance and self-conceit. This last is the tone evidently in which John speaks. So it is with most moral minglings. All character is personal, determined by some force that blends the qualities into a special personality. The same apparent qualities unite into the most various results. It is like the delicate manufacture of mosaics. The skilful workers of Rome or Venice put in the same ingredients in nature and amount, and the composition comes out at one time dull and muddy and at another time perfectly clear and lustrous. Some subtle difference in the mixture of the constituents or in the condition of the atmosphere or in the heat of the furnace alters the whole result. So out of life we may say in its various minglings there come various products in character, either humility or thankfulness or contentment or self-respect, from some failure of the qualities to meet in perfect union, from some fault in the shape or misregulation of the temperature of the human furnace in which they are fused, this degenerate and confused result of pride which yet is often so near to, that we can see how it was only some slightest cause, some stray and unguarded draft across the surface that hindered it from being, one of the clear and lustrous combinations of the same material. But that fact makes it no better. The muddy glass is no more useful because it is made of the same components as the clear glass. There is nothing still to be done with it but to throw it away. What then is the pride of life which is bad, which "is not of the Father, but is of the world"? Life itself we know is of the Father. In whatever sense we take that much-meaning word, life is God's gift. The mere physical being, if that be life, is the creation of His mighty word. The continuance, the prolongation of the vital function, if that be life, that too is the result of His never-sleeping care. The surrounding circumstances, the scenery of our experience, if that be life, is also of His arranging. The spiritual vitality, all the higher powers as we call them, of thought and feeling and conscience, if they be life, no hand but His strung and tuned their manifold and subtle cords. Everywhere there is no life but what He gives. It is not of the world. In no sense does any creative power of being issue either from the material earth, or from the social system, or from the mass of conventional laws and standards, each of which is sometimes, in different uses of the word, characterized as "the world." They may all influence and change and give character to life, but none of them can create it. And perhaps this brings us to what we want. The world may give a certain character or shape to life, even altho it cannot create it. Now pride is a certain character or shape of life. It is a term of description not of the material of life but of a particular result of that material fused into a particular furnace. In general the shape of life which pride describes may be otherwise characterized as arrogant self-reliance or self-sufficiency. We may reach more minute definitions of it before we are done, but this seems to make the meaning plain when it is said that the pride of life is not of the Father, but of the world. Life comes from God. It is the world's influence that shapes that life, which has no moral character in itself, into arrogance and self-sufficiency, makes it up into pride instead of into humility, and so leaves as the result the pride of life. The pride of life, then, is God's gift which means dependence changed and distorted into independence, revolt and disobedience. Most necessary is it that in all we say we should keep clear in mind that the first gift is God's. The substance of life is His. All evil is misuse, otherwise repentance must be cursed with misanthropy and hopelessness instead of being as it always ought to be, the very birthplace of hope, the spring of a new life from the worn-out failure of an old, back into the possibility of life that is older still, as old as man's first creation. Let us see where the pride of life shows itself. First of all doubtless in the mere exuberance of animal strength. To be well and strong, full of spirit and physical vitality, this is beyond all doubt one of the most precious gifts of God. We never can forget the large strong physical strain with which our Bible opens, the torrent of health and full life that seems to pour down to us out of those early days when the world was young, when the giants made the earth shake under their mighty tread and the patriarchs outlived the forests with their green old years. The fulness of physical vitality is of God, to be accepted as His benefaction, to be cultivated and cared for with the reverence that His gifts demand. And round the mere physical life group a whole circle of tastes and enjoyments and exercises which belong with the sensuous more than with the intellectual or moral part of us, and whose full life seems to be dependent upon the fulness of physical being, the mere perception of beauty, the love of comfort, the delight in enterprise and adventure and prowess. The sum of all these is what we call full physical life. It is what gives youth its most generous charm and makes it always poetic with its suggested powers and unaccomplished possibilities. But yet this mere fulness of life as we all know has its dangers. Mere health is overbearing by its very nature. There is a lack of sympathy in it. Not knowing suffering itself, it is not respectful of suffering in others. It is not careful of inflicting suffering. The full blood sings of nothing but itself. It is careless of others. It is careless of God, not malignantly cruel, nor deliberately atheistic, but selfish with a sort of self-absorption which is often, very gracious in its forms and infidel with a mere forgetfulness of God. Who of us does not know, and who of us, wavering between his standards and his feelings, has not very often found it hard to tell just how he ought to value the enthusiastic and arrogant self-sufficiency of healthy youth? It is this, I take it, that is described here as "the pride of life." Wherever there is eager and full-blooded youth there it appears. It breaks out in the wild and purposeless mob of lower city life, in the impatience and insubordination of the country boy who longs to be free from his father's farm, in the crude skepticism of college students' first discussions of religion. It is jealous of slight, of insult, of the least suspicion of restraint or leading. It belongs to strong young nations as well as to strong young men. By it they flaunt defiance in the face of the world and are afraid of the imputation of prudence. It is what you can see in the faces of any group of eager young men as you pass them on the street. Sometimes it makes them attractive and sometimes it makes them detestable. It turns the noble youth into a hero and the mean youth into a bully. A fine nature it leads into the most exquisite tastes and encircles it with art and music. A coarse nature it plunges into the vilest debauchery and vice. In good fortune it makes the temper carelessly benignant. In bad fortune it makes the temper recklessly defiant. It works these very different effects but is always the one same spirit still,--the pride of life. The gift of life which came from God, taken possession of by the world and tamed into self-sufficiency, a thing not of the Father, but of the world, who does not know in himself, or see in somebody he watches, something of this pure pride in life? Just to live is so attractive that the higher ends and responsibilities of living drift away out of sight. This instinctive almost physical selfishness is the philosophy of more than we think both of the good and of the bad that is in young people. I have seen too much of it to undervalue the sweet and sober piety of old age. There is a beauty in it that is all its own. A softness and tenderness and patience and repose in the western sky that the bolder glories of the east where the morning breaks never can attain. Many and many of the best men we have known have been old men, but no one looks at men's progress without feeling that a great deal of what passes for growth in goodness as men grow old is in reality only the deadening of the pride of life from the dying-down of the life itself. Many and many a man who passes for a sober, conscientious, religious sort of man at fifty, if you put back into his cooled blood the hot life he had at twenty-five would be the same reckless, profligate, arrogant sinner that he was then. It is the life, not the pride, that he has lost. Many and many a man thinks that he has saved his house from conflagration because he, sees no flame, when really the flame is hidden only because the house is burnt down and the fire is still lurking among the ashes, hunting out any little prey that is left and hungrily waiting for more fuel to light up the darkness again. One thing at least is true, that the goodness of old age in what we may call its passive forms, humility, submission, patience, faith, is necessarily far more hard to recognize and be sure of than the same goodness in a younger man. What you call piety may be only deadness. And young men are often pointed just to this old age as the golden time when they will be religious as they cannot be now. They look to it themselves. "You are full of the pride of life," men say to them; "Ah, wait! By and by the life will flag. The senses will grow dull, the tastes will stupefy, the enterprise will flicker out, and the days come in which your soul will say 'I have no pleasure in them.' Just wait for that! Then your pride will go too, and then you will need and seek your God." It is a poor taunt and a poorer warning. If you have nothing better to say to make men use their powers rightly than to tell them that they will lose their powers some day, the answer will always be, "Well, I will wait until that losing day comes before I worry." If you tell a young man that his life is short, the old bacchanalian answer is the first one, "Live while we live." You must somehow get hold of that, you must persuade him that the true life now is the holy life, that life, this same life that he prizes, ought to breed humility and faith, not arrogance and pride, or else you must expect to talk to the winds. It surely is important that the conversion of the pride of life must come not by the putting-out of life but by making it a source of humility instead of pride. The humbleness of life. How can it come? By clearer and deeper truthfulness to let us see what the real facts of the case are, that is all; but that is very hard, so hard that it can be brought about by no other than the Almighty Holy Ghost. Let me see that this physical life of mine, having no true character of its own, is made to be a great machinery for simply conducting the knowledge and the love of God into my life; let all my study of the exquisite adaptations of the physical organs for their work be sanctified with this idea, this ever-pervading consciousness that eye and ear and hand are doors for the knowledge and the love of Him to enter by, and that all their marvelous mechanism is only the perfecting of hinges and bolt that He may enter more impressively and lovingly and entirely; let me learn that every bright taste or fine instinct or noble appetite is a ray of sunlight, not the sun, is the projection into my life of some force above, outside of me, which I can find only by climbing back along the ray that is projected, up to it; let me see all animal life a study and preparation for this final life of man, sensations and perceptions, growing clearer and clearer as we rise in the scale until in man they are fit to convey this knowledge which man alone can have, the knowledge of God; let me see this, and I must be ashamed to make that life a thing of pride which might be the seat of such an exalted and exalting dependence and humility. I am unwilling that those well-built cisterns which ought to be so full of God should hold nothing but myself, as if one crept into his aqueduct and closed it up where the water came into it from the fountain and lived in it for a house and found it very dry. We see clearly enough what the change is that is needed. It is to substitute for self-consciousness as the result of life the ever-abiding consciousness of God. Do you ask how it shall be done? Ah, my dear friends, that is the very miracle of the gospel. I can tell you only this about it, which the Lord has told us all before: "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." The kingdom of God, that region of life in which God is the life's King. And again: "If any man love me he will keep my words and my Father will love him and we will come unto him and make our abode with him." "We will come to him!" That is what we want, for that is the source of all humility, the coming of God into us, and the condition is love and obedience, the spiritual and the active forms of faith. That is all we can say. And that is enough, for in that this at least is clear, that such a conversion is a work that God has undertaken to do for us, that He asks of us nothing but submission to His willing helpfulness, and that being a transformation of life, it may, nay it must, be done while life is in possession, it can be done best when life is in its fullest. We have not to wait till movement is slow and color is dull. We are not tempted to make a vacancy and call it piety; but when man's life is so full that it tempts him daily to self-consciousness and pride, then let him open it wide to the consciousness of God and ennoble it with the full dignity of that humility whose first condition is the presence of God in the soul that He built for His own inhabiting. There is a condition possible where the life shall flow with God as fully and freely as it ordinarily flows with self, where the greater volume it acquires, it only bears the more of Him; where every joy delights in Him, and every power depends on Him, and the whole man lives in Him and knows it. It is not a constant effort. It is the spontaneous direction of the whole nature. It is the new condition of the Christian who has been exalted from the human pride into the divine humility of life, out of self to God. But I suggested at the outset that the word life was used in various meanings, and in connection with one or two of them I should like to develop a little what is meant by this phrase the "pride of life." Life sometimes familiarly signifies what we otherwise call circumstances. A man is said to "get on in life," not with reference to his growing older or growing healthier, but as he grows more rich, more prosperous. The pride of life in this sense would be the pride of success, which we see wherever men are struggling in this world of competition. Look at the young merchant who is making a living. Things go well with him. He rises from stratum to stratum of that commercial system whose geology is the ever-eluding study of the toilers of the street. He grows rich. His store begins to spread with the pressure of new enterprises. His house begins to blossom into the rich bloom of luxury. He is greeted with a new respect. He is courted with an eagerness he never knew before. Friends gather about him. His word has weight. His name means money. He is successful. What is the result? Those facts in themselves signify nothing, let us remember, but material capable of being made into one thing or another wholly its opposite. These are the gift of the Father, every one of them, all that profusion of life. But there is a possible effect of them all in character, a pride, which is not of the Father, but of the world. With a morbid sympathy the man assimilates all that is poor and mean and worldly out of his prosperity, and rejects, because he has no affinity for it, all that is good and sweet and heavenly. He is chilled and narrowed and embittered. All the old sweetness and humility fade out of his nature. Need I tell you of it? Our streets are full of the pride of life. Its types only, its outer types flash in the splendid carriages and blaze in the fronts of gaudy houses and sweep the floors of drawing-rooms and the aisles of churches. Those types, the mere outward trappings of success, are not wherein the badness lies. The reality is in the hard hearts and selfish tempers and undocile minds which, in the splendor or the squalidness of wealth, show the sad ruin of self-sufficient success, the pride of life. The pride of life kills out the life itself. Is there a sadder picture than you have in the life of a man, old or young, to whom God has sent prosperity, who by his own act then turns that prosperity into a failure by being proud of it? Christ Himself has told us how it is. The life is more than meat. He has no tolerance for this little meaning of a word that He made so large. The life is more than meat. Yes, life is meat and man, and to lose the best manhood to get the meat, to lose the soul to save the body, to fail of heaven above you and before you that you may own the ground under your feet, that is not success but failure. "In all time of our prosperity, Good Lord deliver us!" May God help you who are prosperous. I would speak again of what is called intellectual life, the life of thought. It is "of the Father," indeed. We picture to ourselves the pure joy of God in thought. Free from so many of our cumbrous processes, free from the limitations of slow-moving time, free from all imperfection, with an instantaneous thought as is His being, the intellect that is the center of all reason revolves in its unfathomed majesty. And man thinks too. God makes him think. God gives him powers to think with, and then, as when you pour for your child a stream of water out of your cisterns upon the wheels of the machinery that you have first built for him, God gives man thoughts to exercise his power of thinking upon. Can anything be more humble? The power was from God, the thoughts by which the power moves were God's thoughts first. "Oh, God, I think Thy thoughts after Thee," cried John Kepler, when he caught sight of the great law of planetary motion. But mere thought, self-satisfied, seeking no unity in God, owning no dependence, boasting of itself, counting it hardship that it cannot know all where it knows so much, this is the pride of thought, and this is not of the Father, but is of the world. How arrogant it is! How it is jealous of dictation, how it chafes under a hand that presses it down and a voice that says to it, "Wait! what thou knowest not now thou shall; know hereafter." How carefully it limits its kind of evidence, shutting out everything that sounds like personal communication, revelation, in its impatient independence; how studiously it orphans itself. And then how, in some moods, orphaned by its arrogance, it suddenly becomes intensely cognizant of its orphanage, and the child's hunger for a Father takes possession of its heart and it is dreary and miserable! I always know, when I speak thus of types of men, that you will think that I am talking of those types in their extreme specimens. I am not speaking to-day of the miracles of physical vitality, nor of the over-successful men with their colossal fortunes, nor of the mighty thinkers only. We all have our certain share in these various kinds of life, and each of us may make his little share a seed of pride. We are strangely ingenious here. We have an easy faculty of persuading ourselves that ours is best of everything and growing arrogant, unfilial and worldly over it. I speak to the men confident in their youth and health, to the merchants strong in their business credit, to the thoughtful brains at work over their problems of settling the universe for themselves. I warn them all against the pride of life. I would try to show them all that the same material which is capable of being made into pride is capable also of being made into humility. I would tell them therefore that they have not to be made old or sick or poor or stupid before they can be made humble, that the best humility, as well as the hardest, is that which can come to them here, right in the midst of their strength and wealth and study! Do you ask how that can be? It is time that I tried to tell you, tried to tell how one may be full of life and yet be free from the pride of life. That question must somehow be answered, or else the world will be condemned to choose forever between an arrogant prosperity and a salvation by misery, distress and disaster, by death. What do we need for the salvation of a prosperous life? The answer in one word is consecration. Consecration, that is what we need. There have been men in whom life seemed complete who have yet walked very humbly. They had no pride of life. And why? Because always before them and above them there stood some great principle, some idea, some duty to which their life belonged, not to themselves. All work is modest, all idle self-contemplation is vain. And what the young man needs with his vague aspirations and conceits is to make himself the servant of some worthy purpose. And what the merchant needs with his growing business is to count himself the steward of some worthy Master. And what the student needs with his active mind is to trace the footsteps of the God of wisdom in the path he walks and to count the reaching nearer to Him, the true prize and object of all thinking. Consecration! We are proud of life because we do so little with it. It is as if the bearer of dispatches sat down calmly and boasted of the well-made box in which they had been given to him, and never bore them to their destination. Life is force, to be transmitted and delivered to a purpose and an end. It loses its true nature and sweetness, it corrupts into pride, when it is robbed of its true purpose and cherished only for itself. We can find our example of the consecrated man wherever we see true lives lived in history or about us now, in the Bible or in common life. Moses, David, Paul! But why look at the poor, imperfect copies when in our Lord Himself we have the consummate human life clothed in the wondrous humility of His appointed work. The life of lives! and yet was ever any life so utterly free from the tawdry pride that makes our poor achievements so wretched and unsatisfying. You say He cut Himself off from all that men are proud of. Not so. He gave up house and home, but he carried about with Him always the devotion of the people, the mystery of unknown power and the consciousness of great work and influence, the very things that have always seduced the best men most and in their highest labors made them proud. You say He was divine and so could not be humble. Yes, but He was profoundly human also, and humility is not subserviency or meanness. It is a grace not unworthy of, nay, necessary to, even the perfect humanity. But one thing stands out always: His was the consecrated life. It was all given to its purpose. "He was called Jesus because he should save his people from their sins." "Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?" "Behold we go up to Jerusalem and the Son of Man shall be betrayed." "To this end was I born and for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth." Everywhere the consecration, a life appointed to an end, the face set to Jerusalem, the hands and feet waiting for the cross! Meanwhile it was the fullest life, but lived so high that the "pride of life" lay all below under His feet and out of sight. And our life must be consecrated even as His was. What shall the consecration be? Far be it from me to undervalue the exaltation into humility that comes to a man when he consecrates himself to any great and noble cause. I believe that it helps to save any man from pride when he gives himself to his family or his country or his fellow men, to truth, to liberty, to purity, to anything outside of and above himself, but there is a consecration higher and fuller and more saving than any such can be. We go back to the Cross. Jesus is dying there for us. He dies and we are saved. What then? When a soul "knows its full salvation" and sees it all bought by, all wrapt up in, that Redeemer, then in the outburst of a grateful love, he gives himself to the Redeemer Christ. There is no hesitation, no keeping back of anything. He is all offered up to Christ; and then to serve that Christ, to follow Him, to do His will, to enter into Him, that is the one great object of the whole consecrated life, and in that consecration, the straining of the life toward that One Object, the "pride of life" is swept down and drowned. Not merely the life then, but the use of the life, comes from the Father. It is not of the world. The soul is saved! The salvation of the Cross! Its center is the forgiveness of sins which the cross alone made possible; but is not its issue here, in the lifting of the soul above the pride of life and consecrating it in the profoundest gratitude to "Him who redeemed us and washed us from sins in His own blood"? What humility! What self-forgetfulness! What unworldliness! What utter childhood to the Father! My friends, my people, would you be saved, saved from your sins, saved from yourselves, saved from the pride of life? You must be His that you may not be your own! He died for you that you might not henceforth live to yourself but unto Him. You must be consecrated to your Savior. If there is one soul in my church to-day who is weary and dissatisfied with his self-slavery, I offer him Jesus for Savior, for Master! If any man thirst let him come unto Him and drink. Turn unto Him and be ye saved! You can, you must! His service is life, life in its fullest because life in humility. Outside of His gospel and His service there is the pride of life, and the pride of life is death. GLADDEN THE PRINCE OF LIFE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Washington Gladden, Congregational divine, was born at Pottsgrove, Pa., in 1836. After graduating at Williams College he was ordained pastor, and occupied pulpits in Brooklyn, Morrisania, N.Y., and Springfield, Mass., until 1882, when he assumed charge of the First Congregational Church of Columbus, Ohio. He has also occupied editorial positions, and has published many books on social and civil reform and the practical application of Christian truth to popular and common life. His style, whether he is writing or speaking, combines vigor with grace. GLADDEN BORN IN 1836 THE PRINCE OF LIFE[1] [Footnote 1: From Mr. Gladden's "The New Idolatry." By permission of The McClure Co. Copyright, 1906, by McClure, Phillips & Co.] _And killed the prince of life, whom God hath raised from the dead._--Acts iii., 15. This is the phrase with which Peter, in his great speech in the temple porch, describes the Master whose disciple he had been for three years, whose death he had witnessed on Calvary, and to whose resurrection from the dead he is now bearing witness. "The prince of life!" It is one of the many great titles conferred upon the Lord by those who loved Him. Reverence and devotion fell from their lips in lyrical cadences whenever they spoke of Him, and they wreathed for Him garlands of words with which they loved to deck His memory. He was "the Prophet of the Highest"; He was "the Great High Priest"; He was "the Shepherd of the Sheep"; He was "the Captain of Salvation"; He was "the First Born of Many Brethren"; He was "Redeemer," "Reconciler," "Savior." Gratitude and affection shaped many a tender phrase in which to describe Him, but there is none, perhaps, more luminous or more comprehensive than this with which the impulsive Peter, facing the men who had put Him to death, gave utterance to his loyalty. Its pertinence is confirmed by the word of Jesus Himself, in one of the sayings in which He described His mission: "I am come that ye might have life, and that ye might have it abundantly." Author and Giver of life He was, and what He gave He gave with princely munificence--freely, unstintedly. The phrase seems to be one on which we may fitly dwell to-day, since the day of the year which commemorates His birth occurs on the day of the week which celebrates His resurrection. Both events proclaim Him the Prince of Life. In the one He is the Bringer of new life, in the other He is the Victor over death; and thus He becomes, in the impassioned confessions of the apostle, the Alpha and the Omega, the Author and the Finisher of Faith, the First and the Last and the Living One. Those who are familiar with the New Testament narration do not need to have their attention called to the constant ministry of this Son of Man to the vital needs of men. The impartation of life seems to have been His main business. Somehow it came to be believed by the multitude, at the very beginning of His public ministry, that He possest some power of communicating life. The wonderful works ascribed to Him are nearly all of this character. The healing of the sick, the cleansing of the lepers, all resulted from the reenforcement of the vital energies of the sufferers. When He laid His hand upon men, new life seemed to speed through their veins. We have known some who seemed to have, in some imperfect way, this quickening touch. It is a physiological fact that warm blood from the veins of a thoroughly healthy person, transfused through the veins of one who is emaciated or exhausted, quickens the wavering pulse and brings life to the dying. It may be that through the nerve tissues, as well as through the veins, the same vitalizing force may be communicated, and that those who are in perfect health, both of body and of mind, may have the power of imparting life to those who are in need of it. The miracles of healing ascribed to Jesus must have been miracles in the literal sense; they were wonders, marvels--for that is what the word miracle means; that they were interruptions or violations of natural law is never intimated in the New Testament; they may have been purely natural occurrences, taking place under the operation of natural laws with which we are not familiar. We are far from knowing all the secrets of this wonderful universe; the time may come when these words of Jesus will have larger meaning than we have ever given them: "If ye abide in me, the works that I do shall ye do also, and greater works than these shall ye do, because I go unto my Father." The fact to be noted is, however, that the people with whom Jesus was brought into contact were made aware in many ways of the impartation of His Life to them. "Of His fulness," said John, "we all received, and grace for grace." There seemed to be in Him a plenitude of vitality, from which health and vigor flowed into the lives of those who came near to Him. Nor does this seem to have been any mere physical magnetism; there is no intimation that His physical endowments were exceptional; the restoring and invigorating influence oftener flowed from a deeper source. The physical renewal came as the result of a spiritual quickening. He reached the body through the soul. The order was, first, "Thy sins be forgiven thee"; then, "Arise and walk." If the spirit is thoroughly alive, the body more quickly recovers its lost vigor. And it was mainly in giving peace to troubled consciences and rest to weary souls that He conferred upon those who received Him the great boon of life. Thus Jesus proved Himself "the Prince of Life." In the early ages of the Church the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, came to be described as "the Lord and Giver of Life"; but that was because He was believed to be the Continuator of the work of Jesus--the spiritual Christ. There seems to be in this conception a great and beautiful revelation of the essential nature of Christianity. There are many ways of conceiving of this, but I am not sure that any one of them is more significant than that which we are now considering. Those words of Jesus to which I have before referred are wonderful words when we come to think upon them. They occur in that discourse in which He describes Himself first as the Good Shepherd, and contrasts Himself with the thieves and robbers who have been ravaging the flock. "The thief cometh not," He says, "but that he may steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and may have it abundantly," Have we not here the great fundamental distinction between men--the line that separates the evil from the good, the just from the unjust, the sheep from the goats--that distinction which Jesus marks so clearly in His parable of judgment, and which must never, in our interpretations or philosophizings, be blotted or blurred? Some are life-givers; some are life-destroyers. "The thief cometh not but that he may steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and may have it abundantly." I do not suppose that Jesus meant in this to declare that there is a large class of persons whose entire purpose it is to steal and kill and destroy; probably there are none so malevolent that they do not cherish some kindly impulses and perform some generous deeds. It is a distinction between acts, or perhaps between tendencies of character, that He is making. He speaks in the concrete, as He always does; but He expects us to make the proper application of His words. The fact to which He guides our thought is this--that there are ways of living, forms of conduct, which are predatory and destructive of life, and other ways that tend to make life increase and abound. When Jesus contrasts His own conduct, as one who gives life and gives it abundantly, with the thieves and robbers who kill and destroy, we must interpret the conduct of those whom He describes as destructive of life--as tending to the diminution of life. Indeed, it is a very deep and awful truth that all our social action tends in one or other of these directions. Life, in its proper relation, is the one supreme and central good; the life of the body is the supreme good of the body; the life of the spirit is the supreme good of the spirit. And you can rightly estimate any act or habit or tendency of human conduct only by determining whether it increases and invigorates the life of men, body and spirit, or whether it reduces or diminishes their life. Good men are adding to the life of those with whom they have to do; evil men are debilitating and depleting the life of those with whom they have to do. Even in our economic relations the final effect of all our conduct upon those with whom we deal is to replenish or diminish their life. The wage question is at bottom a question of more or less life for the wage-worker. Starvation wages are wages by which the hold upon life of the wage-earner and his wife and children is weakened. Systems of industry are good in proportion as they enlarge and invigorate the life of the whole population; evil in proportion as they lessen and weaken its life. So all industrial and national policies are to be judged by the amount of life which they produce and maintain--life of the body and of the spirit. Those strong words of John Ruskin are the everlasting truth: "There is no wealth but life--life including all its powers of love, of joy and of admiration. That country is the richest which nourishes the greatest number of noble and happy human beings; that man is richest who, having perfected the functions of his own life to the utmost, has also the widest helpful influence, both personal and by means of his possessions, over the lives of others," We have here, as you see, the Christian conception--the very word of the Prince of Life, of Him who came that we might have life, and that we might have it abundantly. And when His kingdom has come, this will be the end for which wealth is sought and used in every nation. It is possible to use wealth so that it shall be productive of life; so that the entire administration of it shall tend to the enlargement and enrichment of the life of men; so that the labor which it employs shall obtain an increasing share of the goods which it produces; so that all the conditions under which that labor is performed shall be favorable to health and life and happiness; so that the spiritual life, also, of all who are employed shall be nourished by inspiring them with good-will and kindness, with the confidence in man which helps us to have faith in God. Such an administration of wealth is perhaps the very best testimony to the reality of the truth of the Christian religion which it is possible to bear in this day and generation. One who handles capital with this clear purpose can do more to establish in the earth the kingdom of heaven than any minister or missionary can do. But it is possible to use wealth in the opposite way, so that it shall be destructive rather than productive of life. A man may manage his industry in such a way that the last possible penny shall be taken from wages and added to profit; in such a way that the health of his employees shall be impaired and their happiness blighted and their hope taken, away. He may do this while maintaining an outwardly religious behavior and giving large sums to philanthropy. But such a handling of wealth does more to make infidels than any heretical teacher or lecturer ever did or can do. The fact needs to be noted that all the predatory schemes by which capital is successfully inflated and nefariously manipulated, and the community is thus burdened, are deadly attacks upon the life of the people. They filch away the earnings of the laboring classes. They increase the cost of rent and transportation and all the necessaries of life. They extort from the people contributions for which no equivalent has been given, of commodity or service. Thus the burden of toil is increased and the reward of industry is lessened for all who work; the surplus out of which life would be replenished is consumed, and the amount of life in the nation at large is lessened. Every one of those schemes of frenzied finance about which we are reading in these days is a gigantic bloodsucker, with ten million minute tentacles which it stealthily fastens upon the people who do the world's work, and each one of the victims must give up a little of his life for the aggrandizement of our financial Titans. When such schemes flourish, by which men's gains are suddenly swollen to enormous proportions, somebody must be paying for it, and life is always the final payment. It all comes out of the life of the people who are producing the world's wealth. The plethora of the few is the depletion of the millions. In every great aggregation of workers, the faces of the underfed are a little paler and the pulses of the children beat a little less joyously, and the feet are hastened on that journey to the tomb--all because of those who come to steal and to kill and to destroy. Such is the contrast between beneficent business and maleficent business. The good business employs men, feeds them, clothes them, shelters them, generously distributes among them the goods that nourish life; the bad business contrives to levy tribute on the resources out of which they are fed and clad and nourished, and thus enriches itself by impoverishing the life of the multitude. And I suppose that we should all find, whether we are engaged in what is called business or not, that the work which we are doing, the way in which we are spending our time and gaining our income, is tending either to the enlargement and increase of the life of those with whom we have to do or to the impoverishment and destruction of their life; and that this is the final test by which we must be judged--are we producers of life or destroyers of life? Is there more of life in the world--more of physical and spiritual life--because of what we are and what we do, or is the physical and spiritual vitality of men lessened by what we are and what we do? Are we helping men to be stronger and sounder in body and mind and soul for the work of life, or are we making them feebler in muscle and will and moral stamina? When Jesus Christ came into the world the civilization prevailing--if such it could be called--was under the dominion of those who came to steal and to kill and to destroy. Rome was the world, and the civilization of Rome, with all its splendor, was at bottom a predatory civilization. It overran all its neighbors that it might subjugate and despoil them; its whole social system was based on a slavery in which the enslaved were merely chattels; the life of its ruling class was fed by the literal devouring of the lives of subject classes. Of course, this civilization was decadent. That terrible decline and fall which Gibbon has pictured was in full progress. It was in the midst of this awful scene that Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea. Can anyone doubt that His heart was full of divine compassion for those who were trampled on and preyed upon by the cruel and the strong, for those whose lives were consumed by the avarice and greed of their fellows? What did He mean when, at the beginning of His ministry in the synagog where He had always worshiped, He took in his hand the roll of the prophet Isaiah and read therefrom: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach good tidings to the poor; he hath sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord"--adding as He sat down, under the gaze of the congregation, "To-day hath this scripture been fulfilled in your ears"? What could He have meant but this, that it was His mission to change the entire current and tendency of human life; to put an end to the plunderers and devourers; to chain the wolfish passion in human hearts which prompts men to steal and to kill and to destroy; to inspire them with His own divine compassion; to give life and to give it abundantly? And is it not true that so far as men do receive of His fulness, so far as they are brought under the control of His spirit, they do cease to be destroyers and devourers of the bodies and souls of their fellows, and become helpers, saviors, life-bringers? And is not this included in His meaning when He says: "I am come that they may have life, and that they may have it abundantly"? To-day, then, we hail Him as Prince of Life, the glorious Giver to men of the one supreme and crowning good. And the manner of the giving is not hard to understand. He gives life by kindling in our hearts the flame of sacred love. Love is life. Love to God and man brings the soul into unity with itself; it is obeying its own organic law, and obedience to its law brings to any organism life and health and peace. If the spirit of Christ has become the ruling principle of our conduct, then we have entered into life, and it is a life that knows no term; it is the immortal life. If the spirit of Christ has entered into our lives, then in all our relations with others life is increased; we are by nature givers of good; out of our lives are forever flowing healing, restoring, saving, vitalizing influences; and when all the members of the society in which we move have received this spirit and manifest it, there are none to bite and devour, to hurt and destroy; the predatory creatures have ceased their ravages, and the world rejoices in the plenitude of life which He came to bring. We hail Him, then, to-day, as the Lord and Giver of life. We desire to share with Him the unspeakable gift, and to share it, as best we may, with all our fellow men. What we freely receive from Him, we would freely give. What the whole world needs to-day is life, more life, fuller life, larger life. We spend all our energies in heaping up the means of life, and never really begin to live; our strength is wasted, our health is broken, our intellects are impoverished, our affections are withered, our peace is destroyed in our mad devotion to that which is only an adjunct or appendage of life. Oh, if we could only understand how good a thing it is to live, just to live, truly and freely and largely and nobly, to live the life that is life indeed! Shall we not draw to this Prince of Life and take from Him the gift that He came to bring? Is not this the one thing needful? We are reading and hearing much in these days of the simple life. What is it but the life into which they are led who take the yoke of this Master upon them and learn of Him? It is a most cheering omen that this little book of Pastor Wagner's is falling into so many hands and littering its ingenuous and persuasive plea before so many minds and in so many homes. If we heed it, it must bring us back to the simplicity of Christ. Pastor Wagner is only preaching over again the Sermon on the Mount; it is nothing but the teaching of Jesus brought down to this day and applied to the conditions of our complex civilization. It is the true teaching; none of us can doubt it. And I wish that we could all begin the new year with the earnest purpose to put ourselves under the leadership of the Prince of Life. I know that we should find His yoke easy and His burden light, and that there would be rest for our souls in the paths into which He would lead us. We should know, if we shared His life, that we were really living; and we should know also that we wore helping others to live; that we were doing what we could to put an end to the ravages of the destroyers and the devourers, and to fill the earth with the abundance of peace. Is not this, fellow men, the right way to live? Does not all that is deepest and divinest in you consent to this way of life into which Jesus Christ is calling us, as the right way, the royal way, the blessed way? Choose it, then, with all the energy of your volition, and walk in it with a glad heart and a hope that maketh not ashamed. CLIFFORD THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Clifford, Baptist divine, was born at Lawley, Derbyshire, in 1836. He was educated at the Baptist College, Nottingham, and University College, London. He has had much editorial as well as ministerial experience and has published a number of works upon religious, educational and social questions. The Rev. William Durban, the editor, writing from London of John Clifford in the _Homiletic Review_, styles him "the renowned Baptist preacher, undoubtedly the most conspicuous figure in his own denomination." He speaks of "the profundity of thought," "simplicity and beauty of diction," the "compactness of argument" and "instructive expository character" of this preacher's discourses. CLIFFORD BORN IN 1836 THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS _I believe in the forgiveness of sins_.--Apostles' Creed. This is the first note of personal experience in the Apostles' Creed. We here come into the society of men like John Bunyan and go with them through the wicket-gate of repentance, through the Slough of Despond, getting out on the right side of it, reaching at length the cross, to find the burden fall from our backs as we look upon Him who died for us; and then we travel on our way until we come to the River of Death and cross it, discovering that it is not so deep after all, and that on the other side is the fulness of the life everlasting. It is a new note, and it is a little surprizing--is it not?--to most students of this creed that we should have to travel through so many clauses before we reach it. It scarcely seems to be in keeping with the spirit and temper of the early Christian Church that we should have all this analysis of thought, this statement of the facts of Christian revelation, this testimony as to the power of the Holy Spirit, before we get any utterance as to that individual faith by which the Christian Church has been created, and owing to which there has been the helpful and inspiring fellowship of the saints. I say it is a new note, but it is fundamental. When the Creed does touch the inward life, it goes straight to that which is central--to that which is preeminently evangelical. Without the doctrine of the forgiveness of sins you could have no good news for a sinful world; but with the assertion of this faith as the actual faith of the man, you have possibilities of service, the upspringing of altruism, the conquest of self, the enthronement of Christ, the advancement of humanity after the likeness of Jesus Christ. A note it is which is not only fundamental but most musical, harmonious and gladdening. In the ancient Psalms we hear it oft--"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name, who forgiveth all thine iniquities, who healeth all thy diseases." It recurs in the prophets: "I, the Lord, am he that blotteth out thy sins; yea, tho they be as a thick cloud, I will blot them out." It is the highest note reached by the singers of the Old Testament; but it comes to us with greater resonance and sweetness from the lips of the men who have stood in the presence of Jesus Christ, and who are able to say, as they look into the faces of their fellows: "Be it known unto you that through this man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins from which you could not have been freed by the law of Moses." With emphasis, with, strength, with fulness of conviction, with gladdening rapture, these men proclaimed their faith in the forgiveness of sins, and tho the Creed of the churches travels slowly after the faith of the early Church, its last note sounds out a note of triumph: "I believe in the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting." It is the crown of the whole Creed. It is the flowering of the truths that are contained in the Creed. Let a man understand God, and let him have such a vision of the Eternal as Job had, and he is constrained to say, "I abhor myself and repent in dust and ashes." He desires first and chiefly to know that the true relation between the human spirit and God which has been broken by sin has at length been rearranged, and that sin is no longer an obstacle to the soul's converse with a holy God, but that the ideal relation of the human spirit with the divine spirit is reestablished by the proclamation of forgiveness. For, as you know, pardon is not the extinguishing of a man's past; that cannot be done. What has been done by us of good or evil abides, it endures; not God Himself can extinguish the deeds of the past. What forgiveness does is this: it rearranges the relations between the spirit of man and our Father, so that the sins of the past are no longer an obstacle to us in our speech with Him, our trust in Him--our using the energies of God for the accomplishment of His purposes. It is the restoration of the human spirit to right relations with God. Forgiveness of sins conies, therefore, at the very start of a right life. It is the beginning. All else in the spiritual life succeeds upon this. I know there is a theory among us, and I am prepared to endorse it, that, if we are trained by godly parents in godly homes, we may grow into the spiritual life, pass into it, as it were, by stages which it is impossible for us to register. We are largely unconscious of these spiritual ascents; they are being made by the gracious use of influences that are in our environment, that reach us through sanctified folk, and we travel on from strength to strength, and, then, perchance, in our young manhood or womanhood, there comes a crisis of revelation, and we discover that we are in such relations with God our Father, Redeemer, and Renewer as fill us with peace, create hope and conscious strength. But I assure you that in addition to this experience there will come, it may be early, it may be late, some moment in the life when there is discovered to the individual spirit making that ascent a sense of the awful heinousness of sin; and tho we may not have such a unique experience of evil as the Apostle Paul had, and become so conscious of it as to feel, as it were, that it is a dead body that we have to carry about with us as we go through life, interfering with the very motions of our spirit; yet we do approximate to it, and it is through these approximations to the Apostle Paul that we are lifted to the heights of spiritual achievement, and are qualified for sympathy with a sin-stricken world, and inspired by and nourished in a passionate enthusiasm to serve that world by bringing it into right relations with God. When, therefore, a man says, "I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth," he is asserting that which, being turned to its full and true use, carries him to this goal, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins." For a full and true doctrine of God can only be heartily welcomed when it is associated with the message of the forgiveness of sins. Otherwise the visions of the eternal Power may start in us the cry of Peter: "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord," When a man asserts his faith in Jesus Christ, God's only Son, our Lord, who was crucified, who suffered under Pontius Pilate, who died on the cross; he is himself asserting his faith in the great purpose for which God sent His Son; even to take away the sin of the world, to make an end of iniquity, to bring in an everlasting righteousness; and so out of that faith he prepared for the response which the soul makes to the workings of the Spirit, the Holy Ghost within him, and he is able to say from his own knowledge of what God has been to him, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins." Friends, you have said this again and again, some of you hundreds of times. You have asserted it week by week. What did you mean by it? What exactly was the thought in your heart as the words passed over your lips, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins"? Was it simply the recognition of a universal amnesty for a world of rebels? Was it merely the assertion of your confidence in the goodness of God irrespective of His holiness? Or when you uttered that faith of yours, did it mean that you were able to say, "My sins, which were many, are all forgiven. My sins are forgiven, not may be--that pardon is a glorious possibility only--but are forgiven, not will be forgiven at some future time. I am now at peace with God through faith, in our Lord Jesus Christ"? Could you say that? Was that what it meant; or was it simply the repetition of a phrase which has been handed down to you by your predecessors, and which you took up as part of an ordered service, without putting the slightest fiber of your soul into it? Depend upon it, the mere recitation of a creed will not bring you God's peace, it will not open your heart to the access of His infinite calm. It will not secure you that emancipation from evil which will mean immediate dedication of yourself to work for the emancipation of the world. You must know of yourself, of your own heart and consciousness, that God has forgiven you. And if you do get that consciousness, that moment of your life will be marked indelibly upon the tablet of your memory. The dint will go so deeply into your nature that it will be impossible for you to forget it. Speaking for myself, I can at this moment see the whole surroundings of the place and time when to me there came the glad tidings, "God has forgiven you." "God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not reckoning unto men their trespasses." Do you believe in the forgiveness of sins? Then preach it. Tell it to other people. Let your neighbors know about it. I do not mean by preaching at the street corners, but by getting into such close affectionate touch, with your friends as that you shall be able to persuade them to disinter the thoughts of their own hearts, and show the sorrows that are there--sorrows produced by sin. For, believe me, behind all the bright seeming of human countenances there is a subtle bitterness gnawing constantly at the heart, consequent upon the consciousness of failure--the sense of having broken the law of God. I know that hundreds of people go into the church and tell God that they are miserable sinners. They do that in a crowd; it is saying nothing. They no more think of saying it in such a way as to place themselves apart from their fellows than they would of saying: "I am a thief!" Do you believe in the forgiveness of sins? What, then, are you going to do with your faith? Prove your faith by your works. Every time you ask God for forgiveness you should feel yourself pledged to a most strenuous and resolute fight with the sin you ask God to forgive. The acceptance of pardon pledges you to the pursuit of holiness, and yet we have to keep on with this doctrine, because it is not only the very beginning of the Christian life, but also the continuous need of that life. We have to say night by night, "Forgive the ill that I this day have done." And if we say it as we ought, as really believing that God forgives us, so that we may not lose heart, may never encourage despair of final victory, we shall get up next morning resolved to make a fiercer fight than ever with the evil that sent us on our knees last night. Do you believe in the forgiveness of sins? Let the joy of it come to you, and as your own heart overflows with the fulness of that joy, declare unto others God's salvation, and teach transgressors His way. Do you believe in the forgiveness of sins? Then find in that faith an impact to obedience to the law of Jesus: "Be ye perfect even as your Father in heaven is perfect"; and do not forget that He who begins the good work in you with His pardon will carry it on to the day of Jesus Christ; so that you may add the last words of the Creed: "I believe in the resurrection from the dead and in the life everlasting." It is not altogether a good sign that we have pushed eternity out of our modern thought. Confronted as man is every moment by a sense of the fragility and the brevity of human life, it is not surprizing that we should welcome everybody who comes with a message concerning eternity. Is there not, in truth, beauty in the old Anglo-Saxon story of the bird that shot in at one open window of the large assembly hall and out at another, where were gathered together a great company of thanes and vassals; and when the missionary was asked to speak to them concerning God and His salvation, the thane who was presiding rose and said, recalling the bird's speedy flight from side to side of the hall, "Such is our life, and if this man can tell us anything concerning the place to which we are going, let him stand up and be heard." Brothers, a few days may carry us into eternity. "Boast not thyself of to-morrow, thou knowest not what a day may bring forth." Strong, hopeful, rich in promise of service is to-day; to-morrow friends may be weeping, kith and kin full of sorrow for our departure. This life does not end all; we are going to an eternity of blessedness, to progress without limit, to an assimilation with God that shall know no sudden break or failure, but shall be perfect, even as He is perfect. MOODY WHAT THINK YE OF CHRIST? BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Dwight Lyman Moody, the evangelist, was born at Northfield, Massachusetts, in 1837, and died in 1899. As a business man he brought to his evangelistic work exceptional tact, initiative, and executive ability, but the main source of his power lay in his knowledge of the Bible, his constant companion. In preaching he largely disregarded form, and thought little of the sermon as such. His one overwhelming and undeviating purpose was to lead men to Christ. His speaking was in a kind of monotone, but his straightforward plainness never failed to be effective. He usually held the Bible in his hand while speaking, so that there was little of gesture. His great sympathetic nature is spoken of by Henry Drummond in these words: "If eloquence is measured by its effect upon an audience, and not by its balanced sentences and cumulative periods, then this is eloquence of the highest sort. In sheer persuasiveness Mr. Moody has few equals, and rugged as his preaching may seem to some, there is in it a pathos of a quality which few orators have ever reached, and an appealing tenderness which not only wholly redeems it, but raises it, not unseldom, almost to sublimity." MOODY 1837--1899 WHAT THINK YE OF CHRIST?[1] [Footnote 1: By permission of the Fleming H. Revell Company, owners of copyright.] _What think ye of Christ_?--Matt, xxii., 42. I suppose there is no one here who has not thought more or less about Christ. You have heard about Him, and read about Him, and heard men preach about Him. For eighteen hundred years men have been talking about Him and thinking about Him; and some have their minds made up about who He is, and doubtless some have not. And altho all these years have rolled away, this question comes up, addresst to each of us, to-day, "What think ye of Christ?" I do not know why it should not be thought a proper question for one man to put to another. If I were to ask you what you think of any of your prominent men, you would already have your mind made up about him. If I were to ask you what you thought of your noble queen, you would speak right out and tell me your opinion in a minute. If I were to ask about your prime minister, you would tell me freely what you had for or against him. And why should not people make up their minds about the Lord Jesus Christ, and take their stand for or against Him? If you think well of Him, why not speak well of Him and range yourselves on His side? And if you think ill of Him, and believe Him to be an impostor, and that He did not die to save the world, why not lift up your voice and say you are against Him? It would be a happy day for Christianity if men would just take sides--if we could know positively who is really for Him and who is against Him. It is of very little importance what the world thinks of any one else. The queen and the statesman, the peers and the princes, must soon be gone. Yes; it matters little, comparatively, what we think of them. Their lives can only interest a few; but every living soul on the face of the earth is concerned with this Man. The question for the world is, "What think ye of Christ?" I do not ask you what you think of the Established Church, or of the Presbyterians, or the Baptists, or the Roman Catholics; I do not ask you what you think of this minister or that, of this doctrine or that; but I want to ask you what you think of the living person of Christ? I should like to ask, Was He really the Son of God--the great God-Man? Did He leave heaven and come down to this world for a purpose? Was it really to seek and to save? I should like to begin with the manger, and to follow Him up through the thirty-three years He was here upon earth. I should ask you what you think of His coming into this world and being born in a manger when it might have been a palace; why He left the grandeur and the glory of heaven, and the royal retinue of angels; why He passed by palaces and crowns and dominion and came down here alone. I should like to ask you what you think of Him as a teacher. He spake as never man spake. I should like to take Him up as a preacher. I should like to bring you to that mountain-side, that we might listen to the words as they fall from His gentle lips. Talk about the preachers of the present day! I would rather a thousand times be five minutes at the feet of Christ than listen a lifetime to all the wise men in the world. He used just to hang truth upon anything. Yonder is a sower, a fox, a bird, and He just gathers the truth around them, so that you cannot see a fox, a sower, or a bird, without thinking what Jesus said. Yonder is a lily of the valley; you cannot see it without thinking of His words, "They toil not, neither do they spin." He makes the little sparrow chirping in the air preach to us. How fresh those wonderful sermons are, how they live to-day! How we love to tell them to our children, how the children love to hear! "Tell me a story about Jesus," how often we hear it; how the little ones love His sermons! No story-book in the world will ever interest them like the stories that He told. And yet how profound He was; how He puzzled the wise men; how the scribes and the Pharisees would never fathom Him! Oh, do you not think He was a wonderful preacher? I should like to ask you what you think of Him as a physician. A man would soon have a reputation as a doctor if he could cure as Christ did. No case was ever brought to Him but what He was a match for. He had but to speak the word, and disease fled before Him. Here comes a man covered with leprosy. "Lord, if thou wilt thou canst make me clean," he cried. "I will," says the Great Physician, and in an instant the leprosy is gone. The world has hospitals for incurable diseases; but there were no incurable diseases with Him. Now, see Him in the little home at Bethany, binding up the wounded hearts of Martha and Mary, and tell me what you think of Him as a comforter. He is a husband to the widow and a father to the fatherless. The weary may find a resting-place upon that breast, and the friendless may reckon Him their friend. He never varies. He never fails, He never dies. His sympathy is ever fresh, His love is ever free. Oh, widow and orphans, oh, sorrowing and mourning, will you not thank God for Christ the comforter? But these are not the points I wish to take up. Let us go to those who knew Christ, and ask what they thought of Him. If you want to find out what a man is nowadays, you inquire about him from those who know him best. I do not wish to be partial; we will go to His enemies, and to His friends. We will ask them, What think ye of Christ? We will ask His friends and His enemies. If we only went to those who liked Him, you would say: "Oh, he is so blind; he thinks so much of the man that he can't see His faults. You can't get anything out of him unless it be in His favor; it is a one-sided affair altogether." So we shall go in the first place to His enemies, to those who hated Him, persecuted Him, curst and slew Him. I shall put you in the jury-box, and call upon them to tell us what they think of Him. First, among the witnesses, let us call upon the Pharisees. We know how they hated Him. Let us put a few questions to them. "Come, Pharisees, tell us what you have against the Son of God, What do you think of Christ?" Hear what they say! "This man receiveth sinners." What an argument to bring against Him! Why, it is the very thing that makes us love Him. It is the glory of the gospel. He receives sinners. If He had not, what would have become of us? Have you nothing more to bring against Him than this? Why, it is one of the greatest compliments that was ever paid Him. Once more: when He was hanging on the tree, you had this to say to Him, "He saved others, but He could not save Himself and save us too." So He laid down His own life for yours and mine. Yes, Pharisees, you have told the truth for once in your lives! He saved others. He died for others. He was a ransom for many; so it is quite true what you think of Him--He saved others, Himself He cannot save. Now, let us call upon Caiaphas. Let him stand up here in his flowing robes; let us ask him for his evidence. "Caiaphas, you were chief priest when Christ was tried; you were president of the Sanhedrin; you were in the council-chamber when they found Him guilty; you yourself condemned Him. Tell us; what did the witnesses say? On what grounds did you judge Him? What testimony was brought against Him?" "He hath spoken blasphemy," says Caiaphas. "He said, 'Hereafter you shall see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven.' When I heard that, I found Him guilty of blasphemy; I rent my mantle and condemned Him to death." Yes, all that they had against Him was that He was the Son of God; and they slew Him for the promise of His coming for His bride! Now let us summon Pilate. Let him enter the witness-box. "Pilate, this man was brought before you; you examined Him; you talked with Him face to face; what think you of Christ?" "I find no fault in him," says Pilate. "He said he was the King of the Jews [just as He wrote it over the cross]; but I find no fault in him." Such is the testimony of the man who examined Him! And, as He stands there, the center of a Jewish mob, there comes along a man elbowing his way in haste. He rushes up to Pilate, and, thrusting out his hand, gives him a message. He tears it open; his face turns pale as he reads--"Have thou nothing to do with this just man, for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him." It is from Pilate's wife--her testimony to Christ. You want to know what His enemies thought of Him? You want to know what a heathen, thought? Well, here it is, "no fault in him"; and the wife of a heathen, "this just man." And now, look--in comes Judas. He ought to make a good witness. Let us address him. "Come, tell us, Judas, what think ye of Christ? You knew the Master well; you sold Him for thirty pieces of silver; you betrayed Him with a kiss; you saw Him perform those miracles; you were with Him in Jerusalem. In Bethany, when He summoned up Lazarus, you were there. What think you of Him?" I can see him as he comes into the presence of the chief priests; I can hear the money ring as he dashes it upon the table, "I have betrayed innocent blood!" Here is the man who betrayed Him, and this is what he thinks of Him! Yes, those who were guilty of His death put their testimony on record that He was an innocent man. Let us take the centurion who was present at the execution. He had charge of the Roman soldiers. He told them to make Him carry His cross; he had given orders for the nails to be driven into His feet and hands, for the spear to be thrust in His side. Let the centurion come forward. "Centurion, you had charge of the executioners; you saw that the order for His death was carried out; you saw Him die; you heard Him speak upon the cross. Tell us, what think you of Christ?" Hark! Look at him; he is smiting his breast as he cries, "Truly, this was the son of God!" I might go to the thief upon the cross, and ask what he thought of Him. At first he railed upon Him and reviled Him. But then he thought better of it: "This man hath done nothing amiss," he says. I might go further. I might summon the very devils themselves and ask them for their testimony. Have they anything to say of Him? Why, the very devils called Him the Son of God! In Mark we have the unclean spirit crying, "Jesus, thou Son of the most high God." Men say, "Oh, I believe Christ to be the Son of God, and because I believe it intellectually I shall be saved." I tell you the devils did that. And they did more than that, they trembled. Let us bring in His friends. We want you to hear their evidence. Let us call that prince of preachers. Let us hear the forerunner; none ever preached like this man--this man who drew all Jerusalem and all Judea into the wilderness to hear him; this man who burst upon the nations like the flash of a meteor. Let John the Baptist come with his leathern girdle and his hairy coat, and let him tell us what he thinks of Christ. His words, tho they were echoed in the wilderness of Palestine, are written in the Book forever, "Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world!" This is what John the Baptist thought of him. "I bear record that He is the Son of God." No wonder he drew all Jerusalem and Judea to him, because he preached Christ. And whenever men preach Christ, they are sure to have plenty of followers. Let us bring in Peter, who was with Him on the mount of transfiguration, who was with Him the night He was betrayed. Come, Peter, tell us what you think of Christ. Stand in this witness-box and testify of Him. You denied Him once. You said, with a curse, you did not know Him. Was it true, Peter? Don't you know Him? "Know Him!" I can imagine Peter saying: "It was a lie I told then. I did know Him." Afterward I can hear him charging home their guilt upon these Jerusalem sinners. He calls Him "both Lord and Christ." Such was the testimony on the day of Pentecost. "God had made that same Jesus both Lord and Christ." And tradition tells us that when they came to execute Peter he felt he was not worthy to die in the way his Master died, and he requested to be crucified with the head downward. So much did Peter think of Him! Now let us hear from the beloved disciple John. He knew more about Christ than any other man. He had laid his head on his Savior's bosom. He had heard the throbbing of that loving heart. Look into his Gospel if you wish to know what he thought of Him. Matthew writes of Him as the royal king come from His throne. Mark writes of Him as the servant, and Luke of the Son of Man. John takes up his pen, and, with one stroke, forever settles the question of Unitarianism. He goes right back before the time of Adam. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." Look into Revelation. He calls him "the bright and the morning star." So John thought well of Him--because he knew Him well. We might bring in Thomas, the doubting disciple. You doubted Him, Thomas? You would not believe He had risen, and you put your fingers into the wound in His side. What do you think of Him? "My Lord and my God!" says Thomas. Then go over to Decapolis and you will find Christ has been there casting out devils. Let us call the men of that country and ask what they think of Him. "He hath done all things well," they say. But we have other witnesses to bring in. Take the persecuting Saul, once one of the worst of his enemies. Breathing out threatenings he meets Him. "Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?" says Christ. He might have added, "What have I done to you? Have I injured you in any way? Did I not come to bless you? Why do you treat Me thus, Saul?" And then Saul asks, "Who art thou, Lord?" "I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom thou persecutest." You see, He was not ashamed of His name, altho He had been in heaven; "I am Jesus of Nazareth." What a change did that one interview make to Saul! A few years afterward we hear him say, "I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dross that I may win Christ." Such a testimony to the Savior! But I shall go still further. I shall go away from earth into the other world. I shall summon the angels and ask what they think of Christ. They saw Him in the bosom of the Father before the world was. Before the dawn of creation, before the morning stars sang together, He was there. They saw Him leave the throne and come down to the manger. What a scene for them to witness! Ask these heavenly beings what they thought of Him then. For once they are permitted to speak; for once the silence of heaven is broken. Listen to their song on the plains of Bethlehem, "Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord." He leaves the throne to save the world. Is it a wonder the angels thought well of Him? Then there are the redeemed saints--they that see Him face to face. Here on earth He was never known, no one seemed really to be acquainted with Him; but He was known in that world where He had been from the foundation. What do they think of Him there? If we could hear from heaven we should hear a shout which would glorify and magnify His name. We are told that when John was in the Spirit on the Lord's Day, and being caught up, he heard a shout around him, ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands and thousands of voices, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing!" Yes, He is worthy of all this. Heaven cannot speak too well of Him. Oh, that earth would take up the echo and join with heaven in singing, "Worthy to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing!" But there is still another witness, a higher still. Some think that the God of the Old Testament is the Christ of the New. But when Jesus came out to Jordan, baptized by John, there came a voice from heaven. God the Father spoke. It was His testimony to Christ: "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Ah, yes! God the Father thinks well of the Son. And if God is well pleased with Him, so ought we to be. If the sinner and God are well pleased with Christ, then the sinner and God can meet. The moment you say, as the Father said, "I am well pleased with Him," and accept Him, you are wedded to God. Will you not believe the testimony? Will you not believe this witness, this last of all, the Lord of hosts, the King of kings himself? Once more he repeats it, so that all may know it. With Peter and James and John, on the mount of transfiguration, He cries again, "This is my beloved Son; hear him." And that voice went echoing and reechoing through Palestine, through all the earth from sea to sea; yes, that voice is echoing still, Hear Him! Hear Him! My friend will you hear Him to-day? Hark! what is He saying to you? "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Will you not think well of such a Savior? Will you not believe in Him? Will you not trust in Him with all your heart and mind? Will you not live for Him? If He laid down His life for us, is it not the least we can do to lay down ours for Him? If He bore the cross and died on it for me, ought I not to be willing to take it up for Him? Oh, have we not reason to think well of Him? Do you think it is right and noble to lift up your voice against such a Savior? Do you think it is just to cry, "Crucify Him! crucify Him!" Oh, may God help all of us to glorify the Father, by thinking well of His only-begotten Son. FOWLER THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Charles H. Fowler, Methodist Episcopal divine, was born 1837 in Burford, Ontario, Canada, was educated at Syracuse University and the Garrett Biblical Institute, Evanston, Ill. He was ordained in 1861 and after filling pastorates in many places was made president of the Northwestern University in 1872, but vacated this post to become editor of the _Christian Advocate_; four years later he was appointed missionary secretary and in 1884 was elected bishop. He was well-known as an able preacher and administrator. He died in 1908. FOWLER 1837--1908 THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST _Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his_.--Rom. viii., 9. I read that with the conviction that it is one of the most searching passages that can be found in the Book of God. It takes hold of the question of our salvation as a very substantial and thorough question. It removes indefinitely, almost infinitely, from this problem of our destiny, all shadow of uncertainty or of doubt. It brings us squarely to the facts in our character. On the force of this Scripture we are borne up on to a platform where we stand with our hearts uncovered and naked before the eye of God. This means that the saint must be great in the arduous greatness of things achieved; that there is no chance for sainthood by any fixt, imputed plan, but that our real selves shall test and make our real future. I never read this Scripture in the presence of a Christian congregation without feeling that I have in some way chopped down through every heart with a great broadaxe. There is no whitewashing this passage: "If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his." Not, "He will do tolerably well, but not quite as well as he might do"; not that he will get on after a fashion, and have quite a respectable entrance into the city of the great King, tho he may not push quite as far toward the front as he might have done if he had had the Spirit of the Lord Jesus. Not that at all; but, if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, there is not the remotest shadow of a chance for him: "he is none of his." And so I put this at you, asking you, on account of the great fact that you are going hence, to so apply this critical test to your hearts and lives that you may see and feel your need, and that you may take hold on the great supply, and have that actual transformation of character that will justify you in believing that you have the Spirit of Christ. The success of the missionary cause turns upon exactly the spirit of this text. I have no faith in the final triumph, of the missionary cause based upon any other ground than that of the honest, deep-down conviction of the people of God that the Lord God of Heaven wants this work done. I am here as a believer in a supernatural gospel--not with philosophy that may be framed out of the human life of Jesus, but with a religion that is based upon the supernatural life of the divine Christ. And I appeal to you on this subject of missions as to a company of men who believe in the divine authority of the Book of God; who believe in a blood atonement; who believe in salvation by faith only; who believe in the pardon of sin and in the regeneration of your natures; who believe in the power of the Holy Ghost; who believe, in short, in the sum and substance of an old-fashioned orthodoxy. And I put this cause upon you as such believers, knowing that, if such is your position, you have at least the large part of the argument wrought into the very fiber of your being, by which you cannot stop short of the conviction that what you have need of for your salvation other people will need for their salvation. You know that you need a divine Redeemer; you know that you need the divine pardoning of your sins; you know that you need the supernatural and divine cleansing of your hearts; you know that you need the divine, unbreakable promises; you know that you need this Word, and the way to salvation set forth in this Book of God, by which you know that there is none other name given under heaven among men, whereby we must be saved. And so I come to you as to those who have had some experience in supernatural matters, with the cause based upon this Book of God, asking that your experience may be made possible for the multitudes beyond, who have not yet had this opportunity. Let us take some of the simpler and plainer things in this question, that we may come up to it without any hesitation. Now, I do not need to go into the question as to what God will do with the heathen. I don't know what He will do with them. I know as much about it as you do, or anybody else, because I know what the Book says about it. God knows better about this than I do, and will find a way that I cannot dream of. But, because the words are not uttered by divine authority, I dare not stand here and utter any word of hope for any man beyond the gospel committed to me to preach. This I know: That if the heathen have the Spirit of the Lord Jesus, whether they ever saw the Lord Jesus or not, they are of His. And this I know: That if this congregation have not the spirit of the Lord Jesus, tho it may have seen Him, they are not of His. And this I know: That He will save a Jew and a Gentile on the same terms; that He will do no better for the Gentile than He will for the Jew, and no better for the Jew than for the Gentile. And if there was no other name given under heaven among men by which an ancient Jew or an ancient Gentile might be saved, that is true to-day. The Lord Jesus thought that these people needed the gospel, and that they needed it so much that He actually came and submitted Himself unto death that they might have the gospel. And God seems so thoroughly to believe that they need the gospel that He actually gives His only-begotten Son to die, that they may have the gospel. He treats the case just exactly as if He thought, at least, that they do really need this divine Redeemer. He has done, in every step and process of this great work of world-saving, just exactly as He would have done had He absolutely thought and believed that they needed a divine Redeemer. And then I understand another thing out of the Book: That the very last and supreme utterance of the Master on earth grew out of His conviction that we should do exactly this thing. And see how He comes up to it, little by little! He does not rush suddenly upon it--He does not, upon any truth. It is not in the divine plan to flash upon us in anything. Truths grow; moral ideas grow. They come into the race little, and hardly able to stand at all; we can barely find them beneath us in the lower strata of our being. But they struggle into power and strength until they fill the field of vision. Nearly every great truth of Old and New Testament Scripture is to be found in the Book of Genesis. In Genesis you will find the principle of the atonement; you will find the division of animals into clean and unclean, foreshadowing sacrifice; you will find the principle of the acceptance of offerings that came out of the flock, and the rejection of the offerings out of the field; you will find the pardon of sin and the giving of covenants--all the essential parts of the New Testament growing with their roots away back in Genesis. There is the first declaration of the coming of this wondrous Redeemer. It was so dim and uncertain that it was hard to tell what it meant; somehow, somewhere, some time, "the seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head." It was so dim that our first great mother, when she had gotten her first son, cried out in her joy, "I have gotten a man from the Lord!" She thought she had the Redeemer, but she had only a murderer. It was many a century before the Redeemer would come. The truth was unfolded little by little; a little brighter it shone on the altars of the patriarchs; it was unfolded a little more in the visions of the prophets; was exemplified in the ceremonials of the temple; and in the fullness of time it came with the Master and His disciples and the outpouring of the Holy Ghost. And then see, when the Master comes, how He takes hold of us, knowing that we are but little, and that we have to be lifted up and enlarged before we can take in these great truths! He says: "I have more to tell you: you cannot bear it to-day; I will tell you to-morrow." And so He gives lesson and instruction, and parable and illustration, all through. His life, teaching these disciples, chosen on account of their particular adaptation for the reception of His truth; walking with them day by day, trying to lift their thought toward the spiritual and the eternal; teaching them that it is not His plan to put them on His right hand and His left, and trying to lift them up toward a spiritual and eternal kingdom. So He keeps on all the time, lifting them out of their littleness, saying to them later: "You shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in Judea, and in Samaria, and in the uttermost parts of the earth." They did not know what to make of that. He was lifting them out of their narrowness. And so He pushes on still further with them, lifting them up, until, in the supreme hour of His earthly history--after His agony, after the cross, after He had broken asunder the bars of the sepulcher, after He had risen, and been declared to be the Son of God by the resurrection from the dead--He hovers over the Church, coming down to speak to them by the sea-side and mountain-side; appearing to them suddenly, vanishing as quickly; offering His hands to their touch, showing His body to their vision, yet all the time lifting them up, until He brought them to the thought and gave to the Church the idea of His ubiquity, saying: "Lo! I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world"; and they appreciated the feeling that He was within hand-reach, and that this was a spiritual kingdom, and that they could take hold upon the great spiritual forces. And thus He lifted them up and prepared them for His great truth, until at last, in the supreme moment of His earthly history, we see Him yonder on the summit of the mount--the earth beneath Him, the angels gathered above Him--with His hands spread out over His followers, with the summit of Olivet receding beneath His feet. He cries out to them: "All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and lo! I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." And the unspeakable glory took Him out of their sight. That is the supreme utterance of the Master after many a century of preparation, opening our hearts, bringing us to this great truth, and that this one thing He wants done is His final charge to believers: Go everywhere; teach, preach, baptize, agonize, give, sacrifice--out to the very ends of the earth. And lo! I am with you alway, and you shall lack no good thing. Surely, there can be no doubt that the Master, at least, thinks that these people have a great need for this gospel. There are some who have an idea that salvation is to be the sum and substance of what we are. Well, I think that way myself: that, if you find heaven on the other side of death, you will take it over with you; if there is any condition of peace, you will take that condition of peace with you. Death will be no more than going over a seam in this carpet. The moment after death will differ from the moment before death in your essential character no more than any two consecutive moments in your life. If you are a mean, narrow, selfish, ugly, cross man the moment before death, you will be a mean, narrow, selfish, ugly, cross man the moment after death. If you find a good character over yonder, you will take it over with you. If you have a good character to take over with you, you will have it in the Lord Jesus Christ here. If you live on that basis, I think this is pretty safe that those millions out yonder in the darkness, plunged in ignorance and superstition, knowing nothing about morality and nothing about heaven--those millions want a chance, that the same law that governs our lives will govern theirs. I surround my boy with the best possible opportunities; I watch every book that comes in his hands; I watch every playmate that I possibly can that comes in his path; I see to it, as my highest business on this footstool--higher than my call to this pulpit--that that boy has a fair chance for heaven. If I push him out into the alley to herd with criminals, and be dandled in the lap of vice, and be familiar with all corruption, I have no moral right to expect to meet him in heaven. But if I multiply advantages about him, give him the best possible books and surroundings, make him at home with the Lord Jesus, so that he talks about his salvation and life eternal as he does about matters in the home, I have a good right to expect that the King will give me His eternal peace. Now, I think that the law that holds over my boy holds over all boys in China and Japan and Hindustan; that, just in proportion as we multiply the light and the favorable circumstances about them, then in that proportion we increase their fair chance for heaven. I think it is sound in philosophy. I believe that, just in proportion as we act by it, we will be safe. Now, they are plunged in darkness. They know nothing about our way of salvation, nothing about the pardon of sin, nothing about purity, nothing about righteousness, nothing about heaven. We want to multiply their chances to rid themselves of sin, and to take hold upon life, and make their way in the path of peace. And the Master seems to so think it that He says: "Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations." And if they will believe it, as I read, they will be saved. "But how can they believe if they have not heard? And how can they hear without a preacher? And how can they preach except they be sent?" So the Master says, Go, send quick, everywhere. That I take to be the teaching of the Book concerning their needs. But there is another side of it, and that is the side that swings in under the passage I have read this morning, and that is our side of it, our relation to the cause: "If any man have not the Spirit of the Lord Jesus, he is none of his." Now, what is the spirit of Christ? I will tell you: He came not to be ministered unto. Please remember that. Not to see how much He could gather into His own bosom out of the lives of others. Not to be ministered unto; not to be petted, and dandled, and lifted along and fed all the way, with no burden and no care and no work--not that. He came, not to be ministered unto, but to minister; to pour out of His life into the lives of others; to see what He could do to make others blest; and "to give his life a ransom for many." Not merely to give the little pittance that He could spare and not know it any more than one would miss the farthing with which he would buy his ride on the street car, but to give His life a ransom for many. And if any man have not that spirit, he is none of His. Now I preach you a doctrine of salvation by faith only, and I put the emphasis on the word only. That is exactly what I need as a sinner: I want some sort of release from my past transgressions that will give me a new start. I have gotten behind; I am borrowing money to pay interest with, and I see no way out. I must have a spiritual bankruptcy law. Somebody must come in to my relief, or I am everlastingly undone. And so I preach this blest doctrine of the Book of God: "By grace are ye saved, through faith, and that not of yourselves: it (the salvation) is the gift of God." I take salvation as a divine gift, and take it with a glad heart. It gives me a new chance; it unhinges my present struggle for heaven from the past transgressions of my life, and gives me an open door to heaven that I could not reach on any other platform. And so I preach this doctrine to sinners, knowing that it is exactly what they need. There is another part of it that covers the question of our pardon; that takes all my past sins and wipes them out; that gives me a new chance for righteousness. Now mind: That pardon, that new life, that new chance works out all the time necessarily from my finger-ends; it shows itself in my life, absolutely, as certainly as it is there; and if I cannot find the fruit of it in the fruits of the Spirit, in the interest in God's cause, in patience and teachableness, in gentleness and love, I have the absolute demonstration that I have not the thing itself. Saved by faith, kept alive, kept saved by work, in work, by grace in work. Let me touch that theology just a little. If you are pardoned, you are pardoned by the Lord in a second, through faith--when you believe, that is. Pardon is an operation in God's mind concerning myself; you cannot pardon yourself. God pardons. If we are pardoned He can do it in a second, when we believe. The next step in the case is, that there is not anything in the Book of God that gives us any ground to believe that in that same faith, or believing, or pardon, we will be instantly lifted up into the stature of a man in Christ Jesus. What I mean to say is this: That there is not one word in this Book that will justify any man in believing that he may be brought by any process to the stature of a man in Christ Jesus in a minute. But some good brother will say: "Oh! now I am just a little afraid that you are striking against that blest old Methodist doctrine of sanctification." No, I am not. I haven't said anything about sanctification. But I will. If you are sanctified, or cleansed, that is God's work, through faith, and He can do it in a second. Now, understand me definitely, you cannot cleanse yourself. God cleanses you through faith in the cleansing blood of His Son. It is His work. You cannot grow into it. You can grow in it, but if you don't grow in it you may know you are not in it--you are in something else. But you can grow in it, because it is God's work, and He will do it when you believe. But what of that? What are you after you are cleansed? I will tell you. You are a clean baby: that is all. You are not a man in Christ Jesus; you are only a babe--cleansed, indeed, and greatly improved by the process, too, but you are not matured. Do not miss, now, the broad distinction between purity and maturity. You are purified, through faith, in a second; you are matured through many a struggle and many a year. God cannot make a twenty-one-year-old saint in one second less than twenty-one years. There is no platform marked over with faith upon which a man may step and be lifted up into the perfect stature of a man in Christ Jesus in a minute. It is not the teaching of the Book. But all the year, loving, and giving, and fighting, and praying, and walking in righteousness, you will mature characters, and by and by you will grow into the manhood in Christ Jesus that is set before us in the gospel. Now, if you come in here and tell me that there is a baby over yonder in the next square, that is three weeks old, and can talk Greek and Latin, and Spanish and Italian, and solve all the problems in mathematics, I will tell you that that is a monstrosity, and you don't want that kind of babies in your house: they will turn you out in a few days. So, if you come in here and tell me that you have, down in your prayer-meeting, a spiritual baby three or four weeks old, that can teach all the old saints, and can tell them all about God, and heaven, and faith, and theology, and all about everything in the Church, I will tell you that that is a monstrosity. And you don't want that kind in your prayer-meeting; they will turn you out before a great while. St. Paul says: "Ye are born babes, and ye are fed on milk"; and the trouble with too many of us is that we keep on that diet when we ought to be eating meat. The Master says: "First the blade, then the ear; after that, the full corn in the ear." So I am free to say that God's plan of making saints is to give them the divine germ--if you please, the supernatural principle; or, as our scientists would say, with proper environments, "That have the divine initial impulse," but as our fathers would have said, "They got through at the altar"; born of God, and then cleansed of God in the true process of education and faith, they matured at the harvest. God gives us the start and the cleansing, and we have to do all the rest of it. He will give us opportunity for growth by loading and goading us, by setting on our track every sort of force to test us--to "polish us," as the old Hebrew word means. When Abraham was tested he was "polished." He will put us on such lines that, if we stand true to our convictions and walk according to the light we have, He will bring us on to manhood. See how wonderfully the Word of God fits down upon this? Take that remarkable passage that, to me, is as beautiful as anything can be, where He says: "Come unto Me, all ye that labor"--I know what that means in the struggle under sin--"all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give"--I will give: it is mine. You cannot earn it: you cannot buy it; you cannot find it; you cannot dig it out. It is mine--"I will give you rest"--the blest pardon that only God can give. Then, in the very next second and breath, He says: "Take my yoke upon you"--that means work--"and learn of me"--that is more work--and, "For I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find"--that is yours; I do not give that to you; that is not mine to give; that is yours. "Ye shall find rest to your souls." That is the rest that comes from the crystallization of the character in righteousness; that comes from the habit of believing, and the habit of obeying, and the habit of praying; from the habit of righteousness, until the old saint is ready for any struggle, and never expects to be turned aside. That, I take it, is God's plan of building up saints, and for fitting them for the rest that is in God, that abides. WHYTE EXPERIENCE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Alexander Whyte, senior minister of St. George's Free Church, Edinburgh, was born at Kirriemuir (Thrums), Scotland, in 1837. He was educated at Aberdeen University (M.A., 1862), and at New College, Edinburgh (1862-66), and after being assistant minister of Free St. John's, Glasgow, from 1866 to 1870, became at first assistant minister, and later (1873) minister, of Free St. George's, Edinburgh, a position which be still retains, having had there an uninterrupted success. He is the author of a number of biographies, his most recent work being "An Appreciation of Newman." WHYTE BORN IN 1837 EXPERIENCE _And patience; experience; and experience, hope_.--Romans v., 4. The deeper we search into the Holy Scriptures the more experimental matter do we discover in that divine Book. Both in the Old Testament and in the New Testament the spiritual experiences of godly men form a large part of the sacred record. And it gives a very fresh and a very impressive interest to many parts of the heavenly Book when we see how much of its contents are made up of God's ways with His people as well as of their ways with Him. In other words, when we see how much of purely experimental matter is gathered up into the Word of God. In a brilliant treatise published the other year, entitled, "The Gospel in the Gospels," the author applies this experimental test even to our Lord's teaching and preaching. Writing of the beatitudes in our Lord's Sermon on the Mount that fresh and penetrating writer says: "When our Savior speaks to us concerning what constitutes our true blessedness He is simply describing His own experience. The beatitudes are not the immediate revelation of His Godhead, they are much more the impressive testimony of His manhood. He knew the truth of what He was saying because He had verified it all in Himself for thirty experimental years." Now if that is so demonstrably true of so many of our Lord's contributions to Holy Scripture, in the nature of things, how much more must it be true of the experimental contributions that David and Paul have made to the same sacred record. And we ourselves are but imitating them in their great experimental methods when we give our very closest attention to personal and spiritual religion, both in ourselves and in all our predecessors and in all our own contemporaries in the life of grace in all lands and in all languages. Now by far the deepest and by far the most personal experience of every spiritually minded man is his experience of his own inward sinfulness. The sinfulness of his sin; the malignity of his sin; the ungodliness and the inhumanity of his sin; the dominion that his sin still has over him; the simply indescribable evil of his sin in every way: all that is a matter, not of any man's doctrine and authority; all that is the personal experience and the scientific certainty, as we say, of every spiritually minded man; every man, that is, who takes any true observation of what goes on in his own heart. The simply unspeakable sinfulness of our own hearts is not the doctrine of David, and of Christ, and of Paul, and of Luther, and of Calvin, and of Bunyan, and of Edwards, and of Shepard only. It is their universal doctrine, indeed, it could not be otherwise; but it is also the every-day experience and the every-day agony of every man among ourselves whose eyes are open upon his own heart. And then, if you are that spiritually enlightened man, from the day when you begin to have that heart-sore experience of yourself you will begin to search for and to discover those great passages of Holy Scripture that contain the recorded experiences of men like yourself. "I am but dust and ashes," said the first father of all penitent and believing and praying men. "I am vile," sobs Job. "Behold, I am vile, and I will lay my hand upon my mouth. I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee. Wherefore I abhor myself and repent in dust and ashes." And David has scarcely heart or a pen for anything else. "There is no soundness in my flesh because of thine anger; neither is there any rest in my bones because of my sin. My loins are filled with a loathsome disease. For, behold, I was shapen in iniquity." And Daniel, the most blameless of men and a man greatly beloved in heaven and on earth: "I was left alone and there remained no strength in me: for my comeliness was turned to corruption, and I retained no strength." And every truly spiritually minded man has Paul's great experimental passage by heart; that great experimental and autobiographic passage which has kept so many of God's most experienced saints from absolute despair, as so many of them have testified. Yes! There were experimental minds long before Bacon and there was a great experimental literature long before the Essays and the "Advancement" and the "_Instauratio Magna_." And then among many other alterations of intellectual insight and spiritual taste that will come to you with your open eyes, there will be your new taste, not only for your Bible, but also for spiritual and experimental preaching. The spiritual preachers of our day are constantly being blamed for not tuning their pulpits to the new themes of our so progressive day. Scientific themes are prest upon them and critical themes and social themes and such like. But your new experience of your own sinfulness and of God's salvation: your new need and your new taste for spiritual and experimental truth will not lead you to join in that stupid demand. As intelligent men you will know where to find all the new themes of your new day and you will be diligent students of them all, so far as your duty lies that way, and so far as your ability and your opportunity go; but not on the Lord's Day and not in His house of prayer and praise. The more inward, and the more spiritual, and the more experimental, your own religion becomes, the more will you value inward, and spiritual, and experimental preaching. And the more will you resent the intrusion into the evangelical pulpit of those secular matters that so much absorb unspiritual men. There is another equally impertinent advice that our preachers are continually having thrust upon them from the same secular quarter. And that is that they ought entirely to drop the old language of the Scriptures, and the creeds, and the classical preachers, and ought to substitute for it the scientific and the journalistic jargon of the passing day. But with your ever-deepening knowledge of yourselves and with the disciplined and refined taste that will accompany such knowledge you will rather demand of your preachers more and more depth of spiritual preaching and more and more purity of spiritual style. And then more and more your estimates of preaching and your appreciations of preachers will have real insight and real value and real weight with us. "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness to him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned." But he that is spiritual discerneth spiritual things and spiritual persons and he has the true authority to speak and to write about them. And then, for all doubting and skeptically disposed persons among you, your own experience of your evil heart, if you will receive that experience and will seriously attend to it, that will prove to you the true apologetic for the theism of the Holy Scriptures and for the soul-saving faith of Jesus Christ. What is it about which you are in such debate and doubt? Is it about the most fundamental of all facts--the existence, and the nature, and the grace, and the government of Almighty God? Well, if you are really in earnest to know the truth, take this way of it: this way that has brought light and peace of mind to so many men. Turn away at once and forever from all your unbecoming debates about your Maker and Preserver and turn to what is beyond all debate, your own experience of yourselves. There is nothing else of which you can be so sure and certain as of the sin and the misery of your own evil hearts, your own evil hearts so full of self-seeking, and envy, and malice, and pride, and hatred, and revenge, and lust. And on the other hand, there is nothing of which you can be so convinced as that love, and humility, and meekness, and purity, and benevolence, and brotherly kindness, are your true happiness, or would be, if you could only attain to all these beatitudes. Well, Jesus Christ has attained to them all. And Jesus Christ came into this world at first, and He still comes into it by His Word and by His Spirit in order that you may attain to all His goodness and all His truth and may thus escape forever from all your own ignorance and evil. As William Law, the prince of apologists, has it: "Atheism is not the denial of a first omnipotent cause. Real atheism is not that at all. Real atheism is purely and solely nothing else but the disowning, and the forsaking, and the renouncing of the goodness, and the virtue, and the benevolence and the meekness, of the divine nature: that divine nature which has made itself so experimental and so self-evident in us all. And as this experimental and self-evident knowledge is the only sure knowledge you can have of God; even so, it is such a knowledge that cannot be doubted or debated away. For it is as sure and as self-evident as is your own experience." And so is it through all the succeeding doctrines of grace and truth: The incarnation of the divine Son: His life, His death, His resurrection, and His intercession: and then your own life of faith, and prayer, and holy obedience: and then your death, "dear in God's sight." Beginning with this continually experienced need of God, all these things will follow, with an intellectual, and a moral, and a spiritual demonstration, that will soon place them beyond all debate or doubt to you. Only know thyself and admit the knowledge: and all else will follow as sure as the morning sun follows the dark midnight. And then in all these ways, you will attain to a religious experience of your own, that will be wholly and exclusively your own. It will not be David's experience, nor Paul's, nor Luther's, nor Bunyan's; much as you will study their experiences, comparing them all with your own. As you go deeper and ever deeper, into your own spiritual experience, you will gradually gather a select and an invaluable library of such experiences, and you will less and less read anything else with very much interest or delight. But your own unwritten experience will, all the time, be your own, and in your own spiritual experience you will have no exact fellow. For your tribulations, which work in you your experience,--as the text has it,--your tribulations are such that in all your experimental reading in the Bible, in spiritual biography, in spiritual autobiography, you have never met the like of them. Either the writers have been afraid to speak out the whole truth about their tribulations; or, what is far more likely, they had no tribulations for a moment to match with yours. There has not been another so weak and so evil heart as yours since weak and evil hearts began to be; nor an evil life quite like yours; nor surrounding circumstances so cross-bearing as yours; nor a sinner, beset with all manner of temptations and trials, behind and before, like you. So much are you alone that, if your fifty-first Psalm, or your seventh of the Romans, or your "Confessions," or your "Private Devotions," or your "Grace Abounding," could ever venture to be all honestly and wholly written and published, your name would, far and away, eclipse them all. You do not know what a singular and what an original and what an unheard-of experience your experience is destined to be; if only you do not break down under it; as you must not and will not do. Begin, then, to make some new experiments upon a new life of faith, and of the obedience of faith. And begin to-day. If in anything you have been following a false and an unphilosophical and an unscriptural way of life, leave that wrong and evil way at once. Be true Baconians, at once, as all the true men of science will tell you to be. "If we were religious men like you," they will all say to you, "we would do, and at once, what you are now being told to do. We would not debate, or doubt, but we would make experiment, and would follow out the experience": so all the scientifically minded men will say to you. Come away then, and make some new experiments from this morning. For one thing, make a new experiment on secret prayer. And then come forth from your place of secret prayer and make immediate experiment on more love, and more patience, and more consideration for other men, and, especially, for the men of your own household. Be more generous-minded, and more open-handed, as God has been so generous-minded, and so open-handed toward you: if that has indeed been so. Make experiment upon the poor and the needy and help them according to your ability and opportunity and watch the result of the experiment upon yourself; and so on, as your awakened conscience, and as the regenerate part of your own heart, will prompt you and will encourage you to do. Make such experiments as these and see if a new peace of conscience and a new happiness of heart does not begin to come to you, according to that great experimental psalm,--"Oh, that my people had hearkened unto me, and Israel had walked in my ways! I should soon have subdued their enemies, and turned my hand against their adversaries. He should have fed them also with the finest of the wheat: and with honey out of the rock should I have satisfied thee." WATKINSON THE TRANSFIGURED SACKCLOTH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE William L. Watkinson, Wesleyan minister, was born at Hull, 1838, was educated privately and rose to eminence as a preacher and writer. The Rev. William Durban calls him "The classic preacher of British Methodism." "He ranks," says Dr. Durban, "with Dr. Dallinger and the Rev. Thomas Gunn Selby as the three most learned and refined of living preachers in the English Methodist pulpit. Dr. Watkinson is famous for the glittering illustrations which adorn his style. These are for the most part gathered from biography, the classics, and science, and of late years Dr. Watkinson has become more and more addicted to spiritualizing the aspects of modern scientific discovery. Dr. Watkinson never reads his utterances from a manuscript. Nor does he preach memoriter, as far as the language of his addresses is concerned. They are always carefully thought out and are never characterized by florid diction. His simple, strong Anglo-Saxon endears him to the people, for he is never guilty of an obscure sentence. He is in the habit of saying, 'I have always been aware that I have no power of voice for declamation, and therefore I can only hope for success in the pulpit by originality of thought.'" He was president of the Wesleyan Conference, 1897-1898, and editor of the _Wesleyan Church_, 1893-1890. He has published several volumes of sermons. WATKINSON BORN IN 1838 THE TRANSFIGURED SACKCLOTH[1] [Footnote: Printed by permission of B.P. Button & Company from "The Transfigured Sackcloth and Other Sermons," by W.L. Watkinson.] _For none might enter into the king's gate clothed with sackcloth_.--Esther iv., 2. The sign of affliction was thus excluded from the Persian court in order that royalty might not be discomposed. The monarch was to see bright raiment, flowers, pageantry, smiling faces only; to hear only the voices of singing men and singing women; no smatch of the abounding wormwood of life was to touch his lip, no glimpse of its we to disturb his serenity. The master of an empire spreading from India to Ethiopia was not to be annoyed by a passing shadow of mortality. Now, this disposition to place an interdict on disagreeable and painful things still survives. Men of all ranks and conditions ingeniously hide from themselves the dark facts of life--putting these aside, ignoring, disguising, forgetting, denying them. Revelation, however, lends no sanction to this habit of passing by the tragedy of life with averted face; and in this discourse we wish to show the entire reasonableness of revelation in its frank recognition of the dark aspects of existence. Christianity is sometimes scouted as "the religion of sorrow," and many amongst us are ready to avow that the Persian forbidding the sackcloth is more to their taste than the Egyptian or the Christian dragging the corpse through the banquet; but we confidently contend that the recognition by Christ of the morbid phases of human life is altogether wise and gracious. I. We consider, first, the recognition by revelation of sin. Sackcloth is the outward and visible sign of sin, guilt, and misery. How men shut their eyes to this most terrible reality--coolly ignoring, skilfully veiling, emphatically denying it! "The heart from the moment of its first beat instinctively longs for the beautiful...." We strive for the right and the true: it is circumstance that thrusts wrong upon us. What is popularly called sin these philosophers call error, accident, inexperience, indecision, misdirection, imperfection, disharmony; but they will not allow the presence in the human heart of a malign force which asserts itself against God, and against the order of His universe. That principle which is darkness in the mind, perverseness in the will, idolatry in the affections, "every passion's wild excess, anger, lust, and pride,"--the existence of any such principle they absolutely and scornfully deny. There is no evil in the universe, all is good, and where everything is good human nature is still the best. A single substance comprises all that is, and no place is left for that profoundly decisive and destructive element called sin; all that we have to do is to descant on the marvelous loveliness of the world, the serene harmony of the universe, man's love of the true, the beautiful, and the good. Intellectual masters like Emerson and Renan. ignore conscience; they refuse to acknowledge the selfishness, the baseness, the cruelty of society; they are deaf to the groans of creation; they smile, and expect us to smile, whilst they clap a purple patch of rhetoric on the running sores of humanity. No sackcloth must pass their gate, and no craftsman of Ind ever wove gossamer half so delicate and delightful as the verbal veil with which these literary artists attempt to conceal the leprosy of our nature. And men generally are willing to dupe themselves touching the fact and power of sin; they are strongly disinclined to look directly and honestly at that inner confusion of which we are all more or less conscious. We willingly acknowledge our transgression of the higher law, that we do the things we ought not to do, and leave undone the things that we ought to do; we have an unpleasant feeling that all is not right, nay, indeed, that something is seriously wrong; but we do not unshrinkingly acquaint ourselves with the malady of the spirit as we should at once acquaint ourselves with any malady hinting itself in the flesh. The sackcloth must not mar our shallow happiness. Great is the power of self-deception, but in no other direction do we permit ourselves to be more profoundly cheated than we do in this. In the vision of beautiful things we forget the troubles of conscience, as the first sinners hid themselves amid the leaves and flowers of Paradise; in fashion and splendor we forget our guilty sorrow, as medieval mourners sometimes concealed their cerements with raiment of purple and gold; in the noises of the world we become oblivious of the interior discords, as soldiers forget their wounds amid the stir and trumpets of the battle. With a busy life, a gay life, we manage to forget the skeleton of the heart, rarely permitting ourselves to look upon the ominous specter which some way or other has entrenched itself within us, and which is the bane of our existence. Nevertheless, sin thrusts itself upon our attention. The greatest thinkers in all ages have been constrained to recognize its presence and power. The creeds of all nations declare the fact that men everywhere feel the bitter working and intolerable burden of conscience. And, however we may strive to forget our personal sinfulness, the cry is ever being wrung from us in the deepest moments of life, "O wretched man that I am! who can deliver me from the body of this death?" The sense of sin has persisted through changing generations; it is the burden of experience and philosophy, and the genius of the race has exhausted itself in devising schemes of salvation. Aeschylus, Dante, Shakespeare, knew of truth, justice, purity, and love, of the supreme and eternal law of righteousness; they knew that man alone of all this lower creation is subject to this transcendental rule; they knew also that the violation of this highest law lay at the root of the world's mysterious and complex suffering--in other words, that sin was the secret of the tragedy of life. The beasts are happy because they are beasts; they do not lie awake in the dark weeping over their sins, because they have no sins to weep over; they do not discuss their duty to God, they do it; whilst, on the contrary, men are unhappy because being subject to the highest law of all, and competent to fulfil that law in its utmost requirements, they have consciously fallen short of it, wilfully contradicted it. We cannot accept the coat of many colors, whatever the flatterers may say; the sackcloth is ours, and it eats our spirit like fire. Most fully does Christ recognize the great catastrophe. Some modern theologians may dismiss sin as "a mysterious incident" in the development of humanity, as a grain of sand that has unluckily blown into the eye, as a thorn that has accidentally pierced our heel, but the greatest of ethical teachers regarded sin as a profound contradiction of that eternal will which is altogether wise and good. More than any other teacher Jesus Christ emphasized the actuality and awfulness of sin; more than any other has He intensified the world's consciousness of sin. He never attempted to relieve us of the sackcloth by asserting our comparative innocence; He never attempted to work into that melancholy robe one thread of color, to relieve it with one solitary spangle of rhetoric. Sin was the burden of the life of Christ because it is the burden of our life. Christ has done more than insisted on the reality, the odiousness, the ominousness, of sin--He has laid bare its principle and essence. The New Testament discovers to us the mystery of iniquity as ungodliness; its inmost essence being unbelief in God's truth, the denial of His justice, the rejection of His love, the violation of His law. The South Sea islanders have a singular tradition to account for the existence of the dew. The legend relates that in the beginning the earth touched the sky, that being the golden age when all was beautiful and glad; then some dreadful tragedy occurred, the primal unity was broken up, the earth and the sky were torn asunder as we see them now, and the dewdrops of the morning are the tears that nature sheds over the sad divorce. This wild fable is a metaphor of the truth; the beginning of all evil lies in the alienation of the spirit of man from God, in the divorce of earth from heaven; here is the final reason why the face of humanity is wet with tears. How vividly Christ taught that all our fear and we arise out of this false relation of our spirit to the living God! Above and beyond all, Christ recognizes the sackcloth that He may take it away. In the anguish of his soul Job cried, "I have sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou Preserver of men?" Christianity is God's full and final answer to that appeal. In Christ we have the revelation of God's ceaseless, immeasurable, eternal love. In Him we have the satisfaction of God's sovereign justice. Our own awakened conscience feels the difficulty of absolution; it demands that sin shall not be lightly passed over; it wearies itself to find an availing sacrifice and atonement. "Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world!" In Him, too, we have that grace which brings us into accord with the mind and government of God. Christ reveals to us the divine ideal life; He awakens in us a passion for that life; He leads us into the power and privilege, the liberty and gladness, of that life. He fills our imagination with the vision of His own divine loveliness; He refreshes our will from founts of unfathomable power; He fills us with courage and hope; He crowns us with victory. "God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them." Sin is ungodliness; Christ makes us to see light in God's light, fills us with His love, attunes our spirit to the infinite music of His perfection. Instead of shutting out the signs of wo, Christ followed an infinitely deeper philosophy; He arrayed Himself in the sackcloth, becoming sin for us who knew no sin, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. We have redemption in His blood, even the forgiveness of sins; he established us in a true relation to the holy God; He restores in us the image of God; He fills us with the peace of God that passeth understanding. Not in the spirit of a barren cynicism does Christ lay bare the ghastly wound of our nature, but as a noble physician who can purge the mortal virus which destroys us. He has done this for thousands; He is doing it now; in these very moments He can give sweet release to all who are burdened and beaten by the dire confusion of nature. Sin is a reality; absolution, sanctification, peace, are not less realities. Christ's gate is not shut to the penitent, neither does He send him empty away. We go to Him in sackcloth, but we leave His presence in purity's robe of snow, in honor's stainless purple, in the heavenly blue of the holiness of truth. The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Him, that He may give to the mourners in Zion beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. II. We consider the recognition by revelation of sorrow. Sackcloth is the raiment of sorrow, and as such it was interdicted by the Persian monarch. We still follow the insane course, minimizing, despising, masking, denying suffering. Society sometimes attempts this. The affluent entrench themselves within belts of beauty and fashion, excluding the sights and sounds of a suffering world. "Ye that put far away the evil day, and cause the seat of violence to come near; that lie upon beds of ivory, and stretch themselves upon their couches, and eat the lambs out of the flock, and the calves out of the midst of the stall, that chant to the sound of the viol, and invent to themselves instruments of music, like David; that drink wine in bowls, and anoint themselves with the chief ointments: but they are not grieved for the affliction of Joseph." So do opulent and selfish men still seek "to hide their heart in a nest of roses." Literature sometimes follows the same cue. Goethe made it one of the rules of his life to avoid everything that could suggest painful ideas, and the taint of his egotism is on a considerable class of current literature which serenely ignores the morbid aspects of life. Art has yielded to the same temptation. The artist has felt that he was concerned only with strength, beauty, and grace; that he had nothing to do with weakness, agony, wretchedness, and death. Why should sorrow find perpetual remembrance in art? Pain will tear our bodies, but we will have no wrinkles on our statues; suffering will rend our heart, but we will have no shadows on our pictures. None clothed in sackcloth might enter the gate that is called Beautiful. Most of us are inclined to the sorry trick of gilding over painful things. We resolutely put from us sober signs, serious thoughts, and sometimes are really angry with those who exhibit life as it is, and who urge us to seek reconciliation with it. When the physician prescribed blisters to Marie Bashkirtseff to check her consumptive tendency, the vain, cynical girl wrote, "I will put on as many blisters as thee like. I shall be able to hide the mark by bodices brimmed with flowers and lace and tulle, and a thousand other delightful things that are worn, without being required; it may even look pretty. Ah! I am comforted." Yes, by a thousand artifices do we dissemble our ugly scars, sometimes even pressing our deep misfortunes into the service of our pride. Many of the fashions and the diversions of the world much sought after have little positive attractiveness, but the real secret of their power is found in the fact that they hide disagreeable things, and render men for a while oblivious of the mystery and weight of an unintelligible world. Nevertheless suffering is a stern fact that will not long permit us to sleep. Some have taught the unreality of pain, but the logic of life has spoiled their plausible philosophizing. A man may carry many hallucinations with him to the grave, but a belief in the unreality of pain is hardly likely to be one of them. The laughing philosopher is quite invincible on his midsummer's day, but ere long fatality makes him sad. There is no screen to shut off permanently the spectacle of suffering. When Marie Antoinette passed to her bridal in Paris, the halt, the lame, and the blind were sedulously kept out of her way, lest their appearance should mar the joyousness of her reception; but, ere long, the poor queen had a very close view of misery's children, and she drank to the dregs the cup of life's bitterness. Reason as we may, suppress the disagreeable truths of life as we may, suffering will find us out, and pierce us to the heart. Indeed, despite our dissimulations, we know that life is not a matter of lutes, doves, and sunflowers, and at last we have little patience with those who thus seek to represent it. We will not have the philosophy which ignores suffering; witness the popularity of Schopenhauer. We resent the art which ignores sorrow. True art has no pleasure in sin and suffering, in torture, horror, and death; but on its palette must lie the sober colorings of human life, and so to-day the most popular picture of the world is the "Angelus" of Millet. We will not have the literature that ignores suffering. "Humanity will look upon nothing else but its old sufferings. It loves to see and touch its wounds, even at the risk of reopening them. We are not satisfied with poetry unless we find tears in it." We will not have the theology which ignores sin and suffering. The preacher who confines his discourses to pleasant themes has a meager following; the people swiftly and logically conclude that if life is as flowery as the discourse, the preacher is superfluous. Foolish we may often be, yet we cannot accept this Gethsemane for a garden of the gods; the most wilful lotus-eater must perforce see the streaming tears, the stain of blood, the shadow of death. Nature in the full swing of her pageantry soon forgets the wild shriek of the bird in the red talons of the hawk, and all other sad and tragic things, but humanity is compelled to note the blood and tears which flow everywhere, and to lay these things to heart. Christ giveth us the noblest example of suffering. So far from shutting His gate on the sackcloth, once more He adopted it, and showed how it might become a robe of glory. He Himself was preeminently a Man of sorrows; He exhausted all forms of suffering; touching life at every point, at every point He bled; and in Him we learn how to sustain our burden and to triumph throughout all the tragedy. In His absolute rectitude, in His confidence in His Father, in His hours of prayer, in His self-sacrificing regard for His fellow-sufferers, in His charity, and patience, we see how the heaviest cross may be borne in the spirit of victory. We learn from Him how divine grace can mysteriously make the sufferer equal to the bitterest martyrdom; not putting to our lips some anodyne cup to paralyze life, but giving us conquest through the strength and bravery of reason in its noblest mood, through faith in its sublimest exercise, through a love that many waters cannot quench nor the floods drown. Poison is said to be extracted from the rattlesnake for medicinal purposes; but infinitely more wonderful is the fact that the suffering which comes out of sin counterworks sin, and brings to pass the transfiguration of the sufferer. Christ teaches us how, under the redemptive government of God, suffering has become a subtle and magnificent process for the full and final perfecting of human character. Science tells us how the bird-music, which is one of nature's foremost charms, has risen out of the bird's cry of distress in the morning of time; how originally the music of field and forest was nothing more than an exclamation caused by the bird's bodily pain and fear, and how through the ages the primal note of anguish has been evolved and differentiated until it has risen into the ecstasy of the lark, melted into the silver note of the dove, swelled into the rapture of the nightingale, unfolded into the vast and varied music of the sky and the summer. So Christ shows us that out of the personal sorrow which now rends the believer's heart he shall arise in moral and infinite perfection; that out of the cry of anguish wrung from us by the present distress shall spring the supreme music of the future. The Persian monarch forbidding sackcloth had forgotten that consolation is a royal prerogative; but the King of kings has not forgotten this, and very sweet and availing is His sovereign sympathy. Scherer recommends "amusement as a comfortable deceit by which we avoid a permanent _tête-à-tête_ with realities that are too heavy for us." Is there not a more excellent way than this? Let us carry our sorrows to Christ, and we shall find that in Him they have lost their sting. It is a clumsy mistake to call Christianity a religion of sorrow--it is a religion _for_ sorrow. Christ finds us stricken and afflicted, and His words go down to the depths of our sorrowful heart, healing, strengthening, rejoicing with joy unspeakable. He finds us in sackcloth; He clothes us with singing-robes, and crowns us with everlasting joy. III. We consider the recognition by revelation of death. We have, again, adroit ways of shutting the gate upon that sackcloth which is the sign of death. A recent writer allows that Shakespeare, Raleigh, Bacon, and all the Elizabethans shuddered at the horror and mystery of death; the sunniest spirits of the English Renaissance quailed to think of it. He then goes on to observe that there was something in this fear of the child's vast and unreasoned dread of darkness and mystery, and such a way of viewing death has become obsolete through the scientific and philosophic developments of the later centuries. Walt Whitman also tells us "that nothing can happen more beautiful than death," and he has exprest the humanist view of mortality in a hymn which his admirers regard as the high-water mark of modern poetry. But will this rhapsody bear thinking about? Is death "delicate, lovely and soothing," "delicious," coming to us with "serenades"? Does death "lave us in a flood of bliss"? Does "the body gratefully nestle close to death"? Do we go forth to meet death "with dances and chants of fullest welcome"? It is vain to attempt to hide the direst fact of all under plausible metaphors and rhetorical artifice. It is in defiance of all history that man so write. It is in contradiction of the universal instinct. It is mockery to the dying. It is an outrage upon the mourners. The Elizabethan masters were far truer to the fact; so is the modern skeptic who shrinks at "the black and horrible grave." Men never speak of delicious blindness, of delicious dumbness, of delicious deafness, of delicious paralysis; and death is all these disasters in one, all these disasters without hope. No, no, the morgue is the last place that lends itself to decoration. Death is the crowning evil, the absolute bankruptcy, the final defeat, the endless exile. Let us not shut our eyes to this. The skeptic often tells us that he will have no "make-believe." Let us have no "make-believe" about death. Let us candidly apprehend death for all that it is of mystery and bitterness, and reconcile ourselves to it, if reconciliation be possible. If we are foolish enough to shut the gate on the thought of death, by no stratagem can we shut the gate upon death itself. Without evasion or euphony Christ recognizes the somber mystery. The fact, the power, the terror of death are displayed by Him without reserve or softening. And He goes to the root of the dire and dismal matter. He shows us that death as we know it is an unnatural thing, that it is the fruit of disobedience, and by giving us purity and peace He gives us eternal life. The words of Luther, so full of power, were called "half-battles"; but the words of Christ in their depth and majesty are complete battles, in which sin, suffering, and death are finally routed. He attempts no logical proof of immortality; He supplies no chemical formula for the resurrection; He demonstrates immortality by raising us from the death of sin to the life of righteousness, by filling our soul with infinite aspirations and delights. Here is the proof supreme of immortality. "Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father." The moral works are the greater works. Wonderful is the stilling of the sea, the healing of the blind, the raising of the dead, but the moral miracles of our Lord express a still diviner power and carry with them a more absolute demonstration. If, therefore, we have known the power of Christ delivering our soul from the blindness, the paralysis, the death of sin, lifting it above the dust and causing it to exult in the liberties and delights of the heavenlies, why should we think it a thing incredible that God should raise the dead? If He has wrought the greater, He will not fail with the less. Christianity opens our eyes to splendid visions, makes us heirs of mighty hopes, and for all its prospects and promises it demands our confidence on the ground of its present magnificent and undeniable moral achievements. Its predictions are credible in the light of its spiritual efficacy. "And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of sin; but the Spirit is life because of righteousness. But if the Spirit of Him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you," Being one with Christ in the power of purity, we are one with Him in the power of an endless life. Death has its temporary conquest, but grace reigning through righteousness shall finally purge the last taint of mortality. Not through the scientific and philosophic developments of later centuries has the somber way of viewing death become obsolete; Christ bringing life and immortality to life has brought about the great change in the point of view from which we regard death, the point of view which is full of consolation and hope. In Christ alone the crowning evil becomes a coronation of glory; the absolute bankruptcy, the condition of an incorruptible inheritance; the final defeat, an everlasting victory; the endless exile, home, home at last. Once more, by boldly adopting the sackcloth Christ has changed it into a robe of light. "That through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil" We cannot escape the evils of life; they are inevitable and inexorable. We may hide from our eyes the signs and sights of mourning; but in royal splendor our hearts will still bleed; wearing wreaths of roses, our heads will still ache. A preacher who complains that Christianity is "the religion of sorrow" goes on to predict that the woes of the world are fast coming to an end, and then the sorrowful religion of Jesus Christ will give place to some purer faith. "Through the chinks we can see the light. The condition of man becomes more comfortable, more easy; the hope of man is more visible; the endeavor of man is more often crowned with success; the attempt to solve the darkest life-problems is not desperate as it was. The reformer meets with fewer rebuffs; the philanthropist does not despair as he did. The light is dawning. The great teachers of knowledge multiply, bear their burdens more and more steadily; the traditions of truth and knowledge are becoming established in the intellectual world. It is so; and those of us who have caught a vision of the better times coming through reason, through knowledge, through manly and womanly endeavor, have caught a sight of a Christendom passing away, of a religion of sorrow declining, of a gospel preached for the poor no longer useful to a world that is mastering its own problems of poverty and lifting itself out of disabling misery into wealth without angelic assistance. This is our consolation; and while we admit, clearly and frankly, the real power of the popular faith, we also see the pillars on which a new faith rests, which shall be a faith, not of sorrow, but of joy." Now, the deepest sorrow of the race is not physical, neither is it bound up with material and social conditions. As the Scotch say, "The king sighs as often as the peasant"; and this proverb anticipates the fact that those who participate in the richest civilization that will ever flower will sigh as men sigh now. When the problem of poverty is mastered, when disease is extirpated, when a period is put to all disorganization of industry and misgovernment, social and political, it will be found by the emancipated and enriched community what is now found by opulent individuals and privileged classes, that the secret of our discontent is internal and mysterious, that it springs from the ungodliness, the egotism, the sensuality, which theology calls sin. But whatever the future may reveal, all the sorrows of life are upon us here and now; we cannot deny them, we have constantly to struggle with them, we are often overwhelmed by irreparable misfortune. Esther "sent raiment to clothe Mordecai, and to take his sackcloth from him; but he received it not." In vain do men offer us robes of beauty, chiding us for wearing the color of the night; we cannot be deceived by flattering words; we must give place to all the sad thoughts of our mortality until haply we find a salvation that goes to the root of our suffering, that dries up the fount of our tears. In a very different spirit and for very different ends do men contemplate the dark side of human life. The cynic expatiates on painful things--the blot on life's beauty, the shadow on its glory, the pitiful ending of its brave shows--only to gibe and mock. The realist lingers in the dissecting chamber for very delight in revolting themes. The pessimist enlarges on the power of melancholy that lie may justify despair. The poet touches the pathetic string that he may flutter the heart. Fiction dramatizes the tragic sentiment for the sake of literary effect. Cultured wickedness drinks wine out of a skull, that by sharp contrast it may heighten its sensuous delight; whilst estheticism dallies with the sad experiences of life to the end of intellectual pleasure, as in ornamental gardening, dead leaves are left on ferns and palms in the service of the picturesque. But Christianity gives such large recognition to the pathetic element of life, not that it may mock with the cynic, or trifle with the artist; not because with the realist it has a ghoulish delight in horror, or because with the refined sensualist it cunningly aims to give poignancy to pleasure by the memory of pain; but because it divines the secret of our mighty misfortune, and brings with it the sovereign antidote. The critics declare that Rubens had an absolute delight in representing pain, and they refer us to that artist's picture of the "Brazen Serpent" in the National Gallery. The canvas is full of the pain, the fever, the contortions of the wounded and dying; the writhing, gasping crowd is everything, and the supreme instrument of cure, the brazen serpent itself, is small and obscure, no conspicuous feature whatever of the picture. The manner of the great artist is so far out of keeping with the spirit of the gospel. Revelation brings out broadly and impressively the darkness of the world, the malady of life, the terror of death, only that it may evermore make conspicuous the uplifted Cross, which, once seen, is death to ever vice, a consolation in every sorrow, a victory over every fear. LORIMER THE FALL OF SATAN BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE George C. Lorimer was born at Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1838. He was brought up by his stepfather who was associated with the theater, and in this relation he received a dramatic education and had some experience on the stage. In 1855 he came to the United States, where he joined the Baptist Church and abandoned the theatrical profession. Later he studied for the Baptist ministry, being ordained in 1859. He died in 1904. His direct and dramatic, pulpit style brought him into great popularity in Boston, Chicago, and New York. At Tremont Temple, Boston, he frequently spoke to overflowing congregations. He is the author of several well-known books, from one of which the sermon here given is taken as indicating his familiarity with and liking for dramatic literature. His pulpit manner always retained a flavor of dramatic style that contributed to his popularity. LORIMER 1838--1904 THE FALL OF SATAN[1] [Footnote 1: Copyright, 1882, by "The Homiletic Monthly," New York.] _I beheld Satan, as lightning, fall from heaven_.--Luke x., 18. Whether the "glorious darkness" denoted by the name Satan is an actual personage or a maleficent influence, is of secondary moment as far as the aim and moral of this discourse are concerned. If the ominous title applies to an abstraction, and if the event so vividly introduced is but a dramatical representation of some phase in the mystery of iniquity, the spiritual inferences are just what they would be were the words respectively descriptive of an angel of sin, and of his utter and terrible overthrow. I shall not, therefore, tax your patience with discussions on these points, but shall assume as true that literal reading of the text which has commended itself to the ripest among our evangelical scholars. The Scriptures obscurely hint at a catastrophe in heaven among immortal intelligences, by which many of them were smitten down from their radiant emerald thrones. Their communications on the subject are not specific and unambiguous, and neither can they escape the suspicion of being designedly figurative; intended, probably, as much to veil as to reveal. One of the clearest statements is made by Jude, where he says: "And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains, under darkness, unto the judgment of the great day"; and Peter, in like manner, speaks of God sparing not the angels that sinned, "but cast them down to hell"; and yet these comparatively lucid passages suggest a world of mist and shadow, which becomes filled with strange images when we confront the picture, presented by John, of war in heaven, with Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon, "that old serpent called the devil." Back of them there doubtless lies a history whose tragic significance is not easily measured. The sad, imperishable annals of our race prove that sin is a contingency of freedom. Wherever creatures are endowed with moral liberty, transgression is impliedly possible. It is, consequently, inherently probable that celestial beings, as well as man, may have revolted from the law of their Maker; and a fall accomplished among the inhabitants of heaven should no more surprize us than the fall of mortals on earth. Perhaps, after all, there is as much truth as poetry in Milton's conception of the rebellion, and of the fearful defeat that overtook its leader:-- "Him the almighty Power Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky, With hideous ruin and combustion, down To bottomless perdition: there to dwell In adamantine chains and penal fire, Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms." An apostle, admonishing a novice, bids him beware of pride, "lest he fall into the condemnation of the devil." Here presumptuous arrogance and haughtiness of spirit are specified as the root and source of the great transgression. Shakespeare takes up this thought:-- "Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition. By that sin fell the angels: how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?" And Milton repeats it in the magnificent lines:-- "What time his pride Had cast him out of heaven, with all his host Of rebel angels; by whose aid, aspiring To set himself in glory above his peers, He trusted to have equalled the Most High, If He opposed; and, with ambitious aim, Against the throne and monarchy of God Raised impious war in heaven, and battle proud, With vain attempt." Our Savior, also, sanctions this idea in the text. Joining His disciples again, after their brief separation, He finds them elated and exultant. They rejoiced, and, apparently, not with modesty, that devils were subject unto them, and that they could exorcize them at their pleasure. While they acknowledged that their power was due to the influence of His name, they evidently thought more of themselves than of Him. They were given to unseemly glorifying and self-satisfaction, and were met by the Master's words--half warning, half rebuke--"I beheld Satan, as lightning, fall from heaven." He thus identifies their pride with that evil spirit which led to angelic ruin, and seeks to banish it from their hearts: "Rejoice not that the demons are subject unto you, but, rather, rejoice because your names are written in heaven." Rejoice not on account of privilege and power, but on account of grace; for the memory of grace must promote humility, as it will recall the guilt of which it is the remedy. We have, here, a lesson for all ages and for all classes of society--a lesson continually enforced by Scripture, and illustrated by history. It deals with the insanity of pride and the senselessness of egotism. It reminds us, by repeated examples, of the temptations to self-inflation, and of the perils which assail its indulgence. "Ye shall be as gods," was the smiling, sarcastic allurement which beguiled our first parents to their ruin. They thought that before them rose an eminence which the foot of creaturehood had never trodden; that from its height the adventurous climber would rival Deity in the sweep of his knowledge and the depth of his joy. Elated and dazzled by the prospect, they dared tread through sin to its attainment, vainly dreaming that wrong-doing would lead to a purer paradise and to a loftier throne. One step, and only one, in the gratification of their desires, converted their enchanting mountain into a yawning gulf, and in its horrid wastes of darkness and of sorrow their high-blown pride was shamed and smothered. The haughty king walked on the terrace heights of Babylon, and, beneath the calm splendor of an Assyrian sky, voiced the complacent feeling which dulled his sense of dependence upon God--as the perfumes of the East lull into waking-slumber the faculties of the soul. Thus ran his self-glorifying soliloquy: "Is not this great Babylon that I have built for the house of the kingdom by the might of my power, and for the honor of my majesty?" Alas for the weakness of the royal egotist! In an hour his boasting was at an end, and, reduced by the chastening judgment of the Almighty to the level of the brute creation, he was compelled to learn that "those who walk in pride the King of heaven is able to abase." Similar the lesson taught us by the overthrow of Belshazzar when, congratulating himself on the stability of his throne, and in his excess of arrogance, he insulted the sacred vessels which his father had plundered from the temple at Jerusalem. I say taught us, for the foolhardy braggart was past learning anything himself. Like the yet more silly Herod, who drank in the adulation of the mob as he sat shimmering in his silver robe and slimed his speech from his serpent-tongue, he was too inflated and bloated with vanity to be corrected by wholesome discipline. Both of these rulers were too self-satisfied to be reproved, and God's exterminating indignation overtook them. Like empty bubbles, nothing could be done with them, and hence the breath of the Almighty burst and dispersed their glittering worthlessness. Pope John XXI., according to Dean Milman, is another conspicuous monument of this folly. "Contemplating," writes the historian, "with too much pride the work of his own hands"--the splendid palace of Viterbo--"at that instant the avenging roof came down, on his head." And Shakespeare has immortalized the pathetic doom which awaits the proud man, who, confident in his own importance and in the magnitude of his destiny, is swallowed up in schemes and plans for his personal aggrandizement and power. Wolsey goes too far in his self-seeking, is betrayed by his excess of statecraft, and, being publicly disgraced, laments, when too late, his selfish folly:-- "I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, These many summers on a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me." It is not difficult to discern the fatal effects of this spirit in the lives of the great and mighty; but we are frequently blind to its pernicious influence on the lowly and weak. We do not realize, as we ought, that the differences between men lie mainly in their position, not in their experiences and dangers. The leaders of society are merely actors, exhibiting on the public stage of history what is common to mankind at large. However insignificant we may be, and however obscure our station, our inner life is not far removed from that of the exalted personages who draw to themselves the attention of the world. The poorest man has his ambitions, his struggles and his reverses; and the first may take as deep a hold upon his heart, and the second call forth as much cunning or wisdom to confront, and the last as much bitterness to endure, as are found in the vicissitudes of a Richelieu or a Napoleon. The peasant's daughter, in her narrow circle, feels as keenly the disappointment of her hopes, and mourns as intensely the betrayal of her confidence, or the rude ending of her day-dreams, as either queen or princess, as either Katharine of England or Josephine of France. We do wrong to separate, as widely as we do in our thoughts, ranks and conditions of society. The palace and the hovel are nearer to each other than we usually think; and what passes beneath the fretted ceiling of the one, and the thatched roof of the other, is divided by the shadowy line of mere externalities. And so it happens that the fall of an angel may be pertinent to the state of a fisherman-disciple, and the fall of a prime minister or ruler have its message of warning for the tradesman and mechanic. Indeed, it will generally be found that the failures of life, and the worse than failures, are mainly due to the same cause which emptied heavenly thrones of their angelic occupants. What is it, let me ask, that comes into clearer prominence as the Washington tragedy[1] is being investigated and scrutinized? Is it not that a diseased egotism, or perhaps it would be more correct to say, a stalwart egotism, robbed this country of its ruler, committed "most sacrilegious murder," and "broke ope" "The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence The life o' the building." [Footnote 1: The assassination of President Garfield.] Like bloody Macbeth, who greedily drank in the prognostications of the weird sisters, tho he feared that the "supernatural soliciting" could not be good, because they pandered to his monstrous self-infatuation, Guiteau, having wrought himself up through many years of self-complacency, claims to have believed that the divine Being had chosen him to do a deed which has filled the earth with horror. Thus the growth of self-conceit into mammoth proportions tends to obscure the rights of others, and to darken with its gigantic shadow the light of conscience. If we are to admit the prisoner's story, as the expression of his real condition prior to the assassination, we look on one so intoxicated with the sense of his own importance that he would "spurn the sea, if it could roar at him," and hesitate not to perform any deed of darkness that would render him more conspicuous. Others, less heinous offenders than this garrulous murderer, have, from similar weakness, wrought indescribable mischief to themselves. The man, for instance, who frets against providence because his standing is not higher and his influence greater, has evidently a better opinion of his deservings than is wholesome for him. He imagines he is being wronged by the Creator--that his merits are not recognized as they should be--never, for a moment, remembering that, as a sinner, he has no claims on the extraordinary bounty of his heavenly Father. From murmuring he easily glides into open rebellion, and from whispered reproaches to loud denunciations. There are people in every community whose pride leads them into shameful transactions. They would not condescend to mingle with their social inferiors, but they will subsist on the earnings of their friends, and consider it no disgrace to borrow money which they have no intention of returning. Their vanity, at times, commits them to extravagances which they have no means of supporting. They ought to have carriages and horses, mansions and pictures, with all the luxuries of affluence--at least so they think--and, being destitute of the resources requisite to maintain such state, they become adepts in those arts which qualify for the penitentiary. Others have such confidence in the strength of their virtue, such commanding arrogance of integrity, that, like a captain who underestimates the force of an enemy and overrates his own, they neglect to place a picket-guard on the outskirts of their moral camp, and in such an hour as they think not they are surprized and lost. Even possessors of religion are not always clear of this folly, or safe from its perils. They "think more highly of themselves than they ought to think"; they come to regard themselves as specially favored of heaven; they talk of the Almighty in a free and easy manner, and of Jesus Christ as tho He were not the Judge at all. When they pray, it is with a familiarity bordering on irreverence, and when they deal with sacred themes it is with a lightness that breeds contempt. When they recount the marvels which they have wrought in the name of Christ, it is hardly-possible for them to hide their self-complacency; for, while they profess to give Him the glory, the manner of their speech shows that they are taking it to themselves. They are like the disciples, who were as proud of their prowess in casting out devils as children are with their beautiful toys, and they are as much in need of the Savior's warning: "I beheld Satan, as lightning, fall from heaven." And because they have failed to give heed unto it, they have oftentimes followed the Evil One in his downward course, and in a moment have made shipwreck of their faith. "As sails, full spread, and bellying with the wind, Drop, suddenly collapsed, if the mast split; So to the ground down dropped the cruel fiend"; and earthward have the unsaintly saints of God as swiftly sped, when they have fostered the pride which changed angels into demons. "How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!" What more pitiable spectacle than the ruin of an angel! We have seen the forsaken halls of time-worn and dilapidated castles, have stood in the unroofed palaces of ancient princes, and have gazed on the moss-covered and ivy-decked towers of perishing churches, and the sight of them has tilled our hearts with melancholy, as we thought of what had been, and of the changes that had swept over the fair, valiant and pious throngs whose laughter, bravery and prayers once made these scenes so gay and vocal. All is hushed now, and the silence is broken only by the hoot and screech of the owl, or by the rustle of the nightbat's leathern wing. But how much sadder is the form of the mighty spirit, who once sat regnant among the sons of light, emptied of his innocence, filled with foul, creeping, venomous thoughts and feelings, uncrowned, dethroned only with malignity and throned in evil! The Bible calls him the prince and the god of this world; and everywhere we are surrounded with evidences of his despotic sway. Unlike earthly rulers, whose exhausted natures exact repose, he is ever sleepless, and his plotting never ends. Enter his somber presence-chamber, and commotion, bustle, activity will confront and amaze you. He is continually sending his emissaries forth in every direction. The perpetual wranglings, ceaseless distractions, irreconcilable contradictions, disquieting doubts, discouraging outlooks, inharmonious and jangling opinions, unaccountable delusions, clashing and crashing dissonances, cruel hatreds, bitter enmities and stormful convulsions, which so largely enter and deface the course of human history, proceed mainly from his influence. We know that "the heart of a lost angel is in the earth," and as we know its throbbings carry misery and despair to millions of our fellow-beings, we can surmise the intensity of we wherewith it afflicts himself. Mrs. Browning's Adam thus addresses Lucifer:-- "The prodigy Of thy vast brows and melancholy eyes, Which comprehend the heights of some great fall. I think that thou hast one day worn a crown Under the eyes of God." But now the vast brow must wear a heavier gloom, and the eyes betray a deeper sorrow, as in his ruin he has sought to bury the hopes and joys of a weaker race. How different his dealings with the race from those which mark the ministry of Christ! Immortal hate on the one side of humanity; immortal love on the other; both struggling for supremacy. One sweeping across the soul with pinions of dark doubts and fears; the other, with the strong wing of hope and fair anticipations. One seeking to plunge the earth-spirit into the abysmal depths of eternal darkness; the other seeking to bear it to the apex of light, where reigns eternal day. And of the two, Christ alone is called "the blest." In the agony and anguish of His sufferings He yet can exclaim, "My joy I leave with thee"; and in the lowest vale of His shame can calmly discourse on peace. The reason? Do you ask the question? It is found in His goodness. He is good, and seeks the good of all; and goodness crowns His lacerated brow with joy. This Satan sacrificed in his fall; this he antagonizes with, in his dreary career, and so remains in the eyes of all ages the monument of melancholy gloom. Thus, also, is it with man, whose haughtiness thrusts him into evil. He is morose and wretched, crusht beneath a burden of we, which weighs the eyelids down with weariness and the heart with care, and which constrains him to curse the hour of his birth. Next to the grief-crowned angel, there is no more pitiable object in all God's fair creation than a human soul tumbled by its own besotted pride into sin and shame. "How is the gold become dim! how is the most fine gold changed!" aye, changed to dross, which the foot spurns, and which the whirlwind scatters to the midnight region of eternity. In view of these reflections, we can understand the stress laid by the inspired writers on the grace of humility. We are exhorted to be like Jesus, who was meek and lowly in heart; and we are commanded to esteem others better than ourselves. These admonitions are not designed to cultivate a servile or an abject spirit, but to promote a wholesome sense of our own limitations, weaknesses and dependence. They would foster such a state of mind as will receive instruction, as will lean on the Almighty, and recognize the worthiness and rights of all. Just as the flower has to pass its season entombed in the darkness of its calyx before it spreads forth its radiant colors and breathes its perfume, so the soul must veil itself in the consciousness of its own ignorance and sinfulness before it will be able to expand in true greatness, or shed around it the aroma of pure goodness. Crossing the prairies recently between this city and St. Louis, I noticed that the trees were nearly all bowed in the direction of the northeast. As our strongest winds blow from that quarter, it was natural to inquire why they were not bent to the southwest. The explanation given was, that the south winds prevail in the time of sap, when the trees are supple with life and heavy with foliage, and consequently, that they yield before them. But when the winter comes they are hard and firm, rigid and stiff, and even the fury of the tempest affects them not. Thus is it with human souls. When humility fills the heart, when its gentleness renders susceptible its thoughts and feelings, the softest breath of God's Spirit can bend it earthward to help the needy, and downward to supplicate and welcome heaven's grace. But when it is frozen through and through with pride, it coldly resists the overtures of mercy, and in its deadness is apathetic even, to the storm of wrath. Nothing remains but for the wild hurricane to uproot it and level it to the ground. Such is the moral of my brief discourse. God grant we may have the wisdom of humility to receive it! KNOX LITTLE THIRST SATISFIED BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE William John Knox Little, English preacher, was born 1839 and educated at Cambridge University. He has filled many parochial cures, and in 1881 was appointed canon of Worcester, and sub-dean in 1902. He also holds the vicarage of Hoar Cross (1885). He is of high repute as a preacher and is in much request all over England. He belongs to the High Church school and has printed, besides his sermons, many works of educational character, such as the "Treasury of Meditation," "Manual of Devotion for Lent," and "Confirmation and Holy Communion." KNOX LITTLE BORN IN 1839 THIRST SATISFIED[1] [Footnote 1: Reprinted by permission of Hodder & Stoughton, London.] _My soul is athirst for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before the presence of God?_--Psalm xlii., 2. The verse, dear friends, which I have read to you for a text is one of those verses which justify in the highest degree the action of the Christian Church in selecting the Hebrew Psalter as, in fact, her prayer-book. There are many passages, as you will feel with me, in the Hebrew psalter that express in a very high degree the wants of the human soul; but perhaps there is no passage more telling, more touching, more searching, more expressive than that solemn and that exalted sentiment which is spoken in the text, "My soul is athirst for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before the presence of God?" The passage is a justification, then, of the action of the Christian Church. People sometimes ask why in the daily service, why on Sundays, you rehearse the Psalms, which have about them so much that is incomprehensible, so much that requires explanation; why there are those tremendous denunciations of enemies, why there are those prayers that seem at first sight to touch wants that we modern people scarcely know; but if you want a real justification and a handy answer you may fall back upon the general texture of the psalter as exprest by such solemn words as those of the text. If you would find any document, any volume that will speak your thoughts best about and towards eternity, you cannot select a better than the Hebrew psalter, for the general tone and temper of its teaching is the cry of the soul for God. And then there is another thought upon the threshold of such a subject that demands our attention. This verse of the text, being a sort of example or representative verse of the psalter, expresses to us--does it not?--the attitude and the mission of the Christian Church. The attitude. For what is the position, dear friends, of the Christian Church? What are the struggles of Christian souls except, in the midst of a world that is quite complicated with difficulties, in the midst of a world that is overwhelmed with sorrow, in the midst of a time of severe temptation, to constantly rise and gaze high above the thought of evil, and gaze towards the sun of brightness, and cry for God? And what is the mission of the Christian Church? Is it not to help men and women in their struggle and their sorrow to forget at least at times their pettinesses and degradation to rise to better standards and loftier ideals, and cry for God? And if that be the mission of the Christian Church, then I hold--and that is my point this morning--that that is the justification of such noble efforts as have been made in your church to enable so great, so sinful a city as London to have at least moments of relaxation from its world-wide weariness, moments of pause in the pursuit of its sin, and to call it back from that which is overpowering tho transient--to ask it to pass them in the ministrations of religion. What is the object of such a church as this? Why, buried among your buildings, in the midst of this great, powerful, sinful city,--why has it a mission for eternity? Why is it good that you should do your best? Why is it praiseworthy and beautiful that your rector and churchwardens should have exerted themselves to the utmost to make this church what it ought to be? Why? Because there is not a man or woman in London, not one in this bustling crowd, not one in this confusion of commerce, not one in this sink of sin, but might say "Yes"--ought to say, and must ultimately feel, and should now be taught to realize that the soul has one satisfaction, one only--"My soul is athirst for God, for the living God." Well, if that be so, can we be wrong, dear friends, can we waste our time, if we ask ourselves this morning something quite practical about this thirst of the soul? And, first of all, I submit that in such a verse as this, and in such a work as this, we are face to face with one of those great governed contrasts that are found throughout Scripture and throughout human life. I may say, _par parenthèse_, that that is one of the great proofs of sacred Scripture. When your shallow thinker, when your wild and profound philosopher, kicks the sacred Book with the toe of his boot, and denounces it because he does not like the measure of Noah's Ark or the exact activity of Jonah's whale, the moment you begin to think beneath those mere sharpnesses of speech and those mere quicknesses of the thought, you say this: "There may be this or that about the surface of Scripture which I do not and cannot explain, and cannot entirely understand; but at least there is no book--no, not excepting Milton; no, not even excepting Dante; no, for us English people, making no reserve for Shakespeare--there is no book that, after all, expresses that deep, inner, serious fact of my being, of my soul, of myself; the fact that lives when our facts are dying; the fact that persists in asserting itself when the noise of the world is still; the fact that does not care about daylight only, but comes up in the dark; the fact that whispers low when I am in the crowd, but speaks loud in the darkest night, when the clock is ticking on the stairs, and conscience has stalked out and stood before me, asserting facts that I cannot contradict--there is no look that can speak that fact of facts, that thirst, that longing, that desolation, that desire, that hope, that activity, that possibility of supreme contention and final victory, there is nothing like the Bible that does that." And so wise men, while they admit difficulties, thoughtful men, while they do not controvert the fact that that which is divine needs larger explanation, fall back upon such great governed truths as that text to support the Bible. The Bible says, asserts, determines, and insists upon the truth which the Church is insisting upon, which you and I, in our better moments, emphasize and say "Amen" to--the soul is athirst for God. The Bible brings home the great contrast that is present to us all. Let us dwell, that we may realize this thirst of the soul, upon the contrast. There are, at least, four forms of attraction which are presented, as I suppose, to your soul, certainly to mine. First of all, there is the attraction of natural beauty. If you stand on a fair August afternoon on the terrace, for instance, at Berne, or on the heights of Chaumont; if you gaze at the distant Alps, crowned with snow which was generated in winter, but which takes the brightness and glory of diamonds in the summer sun; if, coming from the noise and heat of England, you first gaze at that line of strange pointed mountains crowned with that whiteness, struck with the sunlight, you are moved by natural beauty. If you stand in America on the upper reaches of the St. Lawrence, and watch the river as it hurries to its destiny at Niagara; if you see the tossing water writhing almost like living creatures anticipating a dreadful destiny and passing over the fall; or if, rising out of what is tragic in nature, you come to what is homely--if, for instance, you see the chestnut woods of spring with an inspiration of quiet joy, or if you see the elms at Worcester or Hereford in our common England in the autumn time with an inspiration of sorrow; wherever you turn with eye or head, with a feeling in your heart, a thought in your mind, nature demands her recognition; and you London men, in the toil of your struggle, in the noise of your work, in the dust of your confusion of life, when you get your holiday in spring or autumn,--unless, indeed, you have passed into the mere condition of brutes,--while you still keep the hearts of men, you feel there is something in the apostles of culture, in the teachers of esthetics, in persons who say that beauty is everything to satisfy the soul. Nature, you say--and you say it justly--says, "Beauty." You find a delight as you gaze upon nature. Yes, dear friends, you are stimulated, you are delighted, you are consoled; there is one thing which you are not--you are not satisfied. Or, quite possibly, you turn to that which seems to English natures more practical and less poetical--you turn to the attraction of activity. You say the poets, or the preachers, or the dreamers may gaze upon nature; but Englishmen have something else to do--we have to work. You look at the result of activity, and it is splendid. Imagine, picture for a moment, political achievement; picture to yourselves the power not only of a mind, but of a personality, of a character which can attract vast millions who have never gazed upon the human expression in the human face--can attract them to great love or to great hatred, can mold the destinies of an empire, can change the current of the time--think of such men as Richelieu or Cavour, or more modern instances, and you understand what is the greatness and the power of the attraction of political activity. Or, to come nearer home, go into your London city, and watch the working of your London mart. What have you before you there? The activity of the hearts and minds of Englishmen, sending out the force of the life that is in them from the heart that is beating in those tremendous centers to the distances that are only stopt by the most distant frontiers of the world. Your sayings and thoughts are quoted throughout the markets of Europe--yes, throughout the markets of other continents; your actions and decisions make the difference between the decisions and the actions of men that you have never seen, that you shall never see. The Medici were a power in Florence, first as bankers, then as governors. There are men in London who have power throughout the world, not only in Florence, not as profest governors, but as practical governors through the activity of commercial instinct. Certainly, it seems to me quite possible that there may be minds carried away by such a great activity; but that great activity I submit to your deeper, quieter English Sunday thought--that activity will stimulate, will delight, will attract, will intoxicate; one thing it will not do--I am bold to say it will never satisfy. And if I may take another instance for a moment, there is this pure intellect, bidding good-by to the political arena, to the commercial strife, saying farewell to the dreams of beauty, and falling back upon the cells of the brain, traversing the corridors of thought, and entering first here and there into that labyrinth of instinct, or association, or accumulative learning. Certainly, there is a power of a delight that the world can never realize outside the region of the brain. If that needs proof you have only, dear friends, to meditate upon such lives as Newton, or Shakespeare, or Kepler, or if you turn to the region of meditative thought, to such lives as our own George Eliot--yes, there is that in the mere exercise of intellect which is intoxicating, which is consoling even to the highest degree. But intellect, after all, finds its frontier. I may say of it what I have said of the esthetic sentiment, what I have said of the active sentiment in man: it attracts, it delights--what is more, I think it even consoles; but the one thing I find about it that to me is perfectly appalling is that it does not satisfy. There are many of you perhaps to-day who will demand that I should take my fourth instance, and will ask that that at least may do its duty. Will it? There is the region of the affections--that region wherein we stray in early spring days as pickers of the spring-flowers of our opening life, where suns are always glorious and sunsets only speak of brighter dawn, where poetry is in all ordinary conversation and hope springs to higher heights from hour to hour, where Mays are always Mays and Junes are always Junes, where flowers are ever bursting, and there seems no end to our nosegays, no limit to our imaginations, no fetter to our fancies, no restraint to our desires. There is the world, the vast, powerful world, of the passions, purified by exhaustive cultivation into what we call the affections of a higher life. By them we deal with our fellow-creatures; by them, when we are young, we form great friendships; by them, as we grow older, we form around us certain associations that we intend to support us as life goes off. We have all known it. There is the friend, there is the sweetheart, there is the wife, there is the child, there are the dear expressions of the strong heart that after all beats in Englishmen. But as life goes on, first in one object and then by anticipation and terror perhaps in others, we watch those who have been dear to us pass in dim procession to the grave, and we find, after all, that in the world of affections that old strange law that pervades one branch of the contrast prevails; it can stimulate, it can support, it can console, it can delight, it can lead to delirium at moments, but it does not satisfy. And, my brothers and sisters, because you and I are born not for a moment, but for infinite moments; not for the struggle of time, but for the great platform and career of eternity--because that is so, never, never, never, if we are true to ourselves, shall we pause in the midst of our mortal pilgrimage until we find, and grasp, and embrace, and love that which satisfies. When you awaken up a young heart to that truth, then that heart, as I hold it, is on the path of conversion. When amidst the struggle of sin you have determined the soul to strive after that truth, then that soul is in progress of solid conversion and final perfectibility. But, at any rate, all human nature joins that cry of the Christian, and the Bible speaks of it as it always does--its ultimate truth expressing what we need. No; there are many things given, there are many attractions to draw; they will stimulate, they will help, they will console, they will give pleasure; there is one thing that satisfies the immortal, there is one life that meets your need: "My soul is athirst for God, for the living God; when shall I come to appear before the presence of God?" Why, dear friends, why is it that these things do not satisfy? There lies a city in the Volscian Hills, fair and beautiful, climbing in its peaks and pinnacles up little ledges of the rocks, and down into the depths of the valleys. And if you wander some two days from Rome, and gaze upon those mountains, historic in their memories and splendid in their beauty, you are struck by the tenderness and the attraction of that city. It is a city of flowers. The flowers stream up its streets in grave procession; they climb up the pillars of churches, embracing them and holding on with arms of deep affection; they laugh in the sunshine, they weep in the shadow, they are shrouded in the clouds of night, but they blaze again in the blaze of the morning. There is the dim funereal ivy, there is the brightness and glow of the purple convolvulus, there is the wild-rose clustering round the windows. They are lying asleep on the doorsteps, they gather themselves into knots as if to gossip and to talk in the language of flowers by the doorways--utterly beautiful! You look at the city with wonder and astonishment--with desire. How wonderful, you say, that church tower covered with its flowers; that altar covered with flowers not gathered and placed in vases, but with Nature's own hand arranging an offering to the living God. These streets that sound no footfall of an angry multitude, but that listen to the footfall of a quiet nature--yes, it is beautiful in the early morning. But stay there until the later afternoon, when the fog begins to gather; stay there until night-time, when the miasma begins to rise; stay there until morning, and you are in danger of destruction from poison. It is a land of flowery expression; but it is not a land of real life. My friends, the activity of man, the poetic faculty of man, all the gifts and all the capacities of man--they are beautiful, they are touching, they are attractive; but if they are all, if they express all that you have to offer, and all that is in you to feel, then they are hollow, or they-are poisonous, and like that city of flowers. Why? Because there is in you and me a soul that lies behind our thought, altho there is more than feeling there--a soul that supports our will, and is more than our volition. It thinks, but is not thought; it feels, but is not feeling; it wills, but is not volition. There is something deeper in man than his esthetic desire or his active practise, something deeper beneath us all than anything that finds expression, certainly than anything that finds satisfaction. There is the self; there is myself, yourself; there is that strange, mysterious life of loneliness which stands, and thinks, and judges, and appraises. When, by divine grace, we escape from the voice of the crowd, and from the cry of custom, from the delirium of desire, that poor lonely self within us pleads to us in a cry like the call of the starveling crying to the rich man that passes by, "Oh, will you gratify desire? Oh, will you gratify pleasure? Oh, will you stimulate activity, and will you leave me alone? I, yourself, your very self, the foundation of your life, the permanent expression of your immortality--I must be satisfied, and being infinite and immortal, I know but one satisfaction: 'My soul is athirst for God, for the living God; when shall I come, and appear before the presence of God?'" If that be true, or if it be approximately true, dear friends, let us ask ourselves this morning these questions. Let us be quite practical. What do you mean, you may say for a moment, by the thirst for God? I remember long ago in Paris, in conversation with one whom I deem one of the greatest modern statesmen, tho not one of the most successful--I remember, when a mere boy, talking to that thoughtful man just at the moment when he was standing amidst the ruins of his activity, and gazing with the placid spirit with which a good man gazes when he feels that he has done his duty, tho the world can see that he has failed--I remember talking to him on such questions as these, and what he said, among other things, was this: "In dealing with mankind and in dealing with yourself you must rise by degrees, you must advance from point to point; there is a point of achievement, but you cannot reach the point of achievement unless you have gone up the ladder of progress." I follow his advice. What do we mean by thirsting for God? My friends, on the lower round of that ladder, I mean thirsting for and desiring moral truth. I mean that the soul within you is thirsting and imploring for the satisfaction of its moral instincts. Turn for an instant to the ten commandments; they are trite, they are ordinary, they are placed before you in the east end of your church, after the old custom of your practical, unaesthetic, and undreaming England. Ask what they mean. Turn to the second table. You are to reverence your father and mother. Why? Because they are the instruments of life that God gives. You are to reverence life in others in the sixth commandment. Why? Because life is the deepest mystery that God can possibly exhibit to you. In the seventh commandment--I scarcely like to say, but yet it is wise to repeat, it is necessary to assert it--we are to remember, you and I, when we are young, when we are active, when we are passionate, the great responsibility of man; you are not to trifle with that awful mystery, the transmission of life, life which unites itself with eternal love. You are to remember respect for property, for that which divine providence has placed by wise laws in the hands of others. You are to remember that the best of properties is a good character. Finally, in the tenth commandment, you are not to forget that divine providence guides you, and you are not to murmur and be angry when He guides you who knows the best for you, and when you have done your best. And rising from the second table and coming to the first, you are not to forget that there is one object for every soul, as the text asserts. You are not to forget that a jealousy may be created, ought to be created, if you put anything before God. You are not to grudge God the restraint of speech, and--thank God, still it is possible to appeal to the wise instincts of England--you are not to grudge on your Sunday the gift of your time. These are the outlines of the grave moral law that runs deep into the heart of the Christian; and I answer, the thirst for God means the thirst within me to fulfil that grave moral law. But, my friends, pause for a moment. After all, that would only be a skeleton. After all, simply to draw out the outlines of a picture is not the work of an artist. Suppose you ask a master in music, "How am I to produce the real result of stately sound?" He will tell you about the common cord; he will tell you about the result of its changes and its affinities, and will speak of those results as harmony; or he will tell you about the gamut of sounds--sounds found in the wind upon the mountains, found in the surging sea, found in the voice of childhood, found in the whisper of your dreams--sound that is everywhere, sound that wanders up and down this wild, wild universe. He will tell you all that, and explain how in proper steps, in wise modulations, that is melody, as the union of sounds is harmony. Is that enough? Would that produce "The Last Judgment" of Spohr, that made you dissolve in tears? Would that produce the chorus of Handel that made you almost rise and march in majesty? Would that fill you with deep thoughts in Beethoven, or fire you into joy in Mendelssohn? Oh, no! You have your skeleton, but you have not one thing, the deepest; genius has to touch with its fire the fact that is before you; you want the mystery of life. And then suppose you turn to an artist and ask him to guide you in painting, and he talks to you about light and shadow, about the laying of the color, about the drawing of lines, about the exact expression of the distant and the present, of the foreground and the background, and having learned it all, you produce what seems an abortion; you ask yourself, "What is the meaning of this?" Is this enough to make you quiver, in Dresden, before the San Sisto, carried away by those divine eyes of the "Mother of Eternity," or rent with sorrow before the solemn eyes of the Child? Is this enough to fill you with tears of delight when you enter the Sistine Chapel and see St. John as he kneels with his unshed tears about the dead Christ? What is there wanting in the touch of your artist? There is wanting genius; there is wanting life. Or to take one instance more. You ask somebody to teach you sculpture, to tell you how to make yourself master in the treatment of stone. He will tell you wise things about the plastic material that you have to mold with thumb and finger, and then about the use of the chisel and the hammer to produce the result in the stone, following the treatment of that plastic material. But when you have learned it all, can you really believe that you will produce the effect of that majestic manhood that you see in the David of Angelo in the Piazza of Florence, or that wise, determined progress that is exprest in Donatello's St. George? What is the difference between your failure and the results of those men? Genius--life. And when you turn to the moral law, and when you ask yourself, "How can I learn to be athirst for God?" the preachers say, "Accept the moral law; act exactly in distinct duty to your parents; say, 'Corban, it is a gift by whatsoever thou mayest be profited thereby'; do your duty strictly to the letter and nothing more; be conservative about your property; restrain yourself from desire of change; do not stimulate and do not satisfy your passions beyond what is exactly exprest in the moral law." But then, if you speak the truth, you say, "And in the end what am I? Why, after all, most commonplace, and, in truth, most sinful." What is the difference? This difference: there wants here the touch of genius; there wants the touch of life divine, grace that illuminates the moral law; there wants, my friends, the enthusiasm for goodness, the science of sciences, the art of arts, the delight and the desire of doing right because it is right, the great and splendid spirit that belongs to all of us; and yet it is the highest when the thirst of your soul is real. Certainly it is to know God's guidance in law; but what is law? It is to grasp that atmosphere of life and reality which comes out of the moral law to those who seek it in a living person first--the desire of goodness, the desire, the love, the enthusiasm, the ambition, cost what it may, of doing right because it is right. Oh, my friends, I submit--and I submit it without fear of contradiction--that is an ambition worthy of Englishmen. Certainly we are not dreamers; certainly God has given us practical activity; certainly, whatever we misunderstand, this we can understand, the thirst of the soul for God is the thirst to love goodness because it is right. And then hastily to conclude, I would say that that thirst is exprest, that that thirst is satisfied, not only in moral law and in its atmosphere, but in one thing more that I think we can all understand. When we read the New Testament, so simple, so straightforward, so true, so beautiful, with some difficulties, but no difficulties that a true heart can find insuperable--when we read the New Testament we are brought face to face with the teachings of Christ. And there is this, my friends, more about these teachings, that if you are to follow them out you have not time enough in time; the teachings of our Master demand eternity--there is something about them infinite, so simple, so beautiful, and yet we feel that we are insufficient to fulfil them in this sphere of time. If my soul is athirst for God, it is athirst for the fulfilment of those great, splendid, practical teachings which remind me that I am to begin to learn my lesson in this narrow school, but that I shall fulfil my achievement in that great land beyond the grave. Is that enough? No; no, when the heart is lonely; no, when the sun is setting; no, when the clouds are gathering round us; no, when the storm is coming up. It is useless for the preacher, if he tries to be real, to talk about law, or the result of law, or the splendor of teaching; if we know the human heart in its width and its activity, if it is to find satisfaction it must find it in a personal life. You may say you cannot know God. That is the ordinary answer of the human sinning heart, which in modern times calls itself agnostic. Know God! Well, of course it is truly said that it is by mere license of speech when you talk of knowledge about human perceptions--it is wisely said. You perceive a fact, my friend; you must perceive it in itself, and as it is, and by an intellect that can infallibly state that it is so and in that manner. Knowledge like that is impossible, I grant; but between that scientific knowledge and utter unbelief there are shades, first of all of assent that shuts out doubt, and at last, at the other pole, of a doubt that almost shuts out assent. Between the two there are activities of life, and if you are to say, "I cannot know the personal God with scientific knowledge," I grant it; but you cannot know anything, not only in theology, but in politics, or social life, or moral conduct, or conduct that is not moral--you can know nothing, you can never act at all, because all our action is not on knowledge, but on belief, and therefore when we turn to a personal life that is not perceived by the activity of the senses we only demand that you are to accept that which it is possible to accept in any sphere of activity, and which you do accept. It is possible for you, according to the laws of your being, to accept a personal Christ. "But," you say--and I must remind you of it as I close--"a personal Christ, but still clothed in human lineaments, a personal Christ who is mysterious--how can you accept that?" How can you not? My friends, the human intellect is so framed that it acts habitually upon ideas that are true yet indistinct. You act on space, you act on time, you have infinity, you have in your mouth the word "cause." What do you know exactly about infinity, or space, or time, or cause? The human intellect, it is truly said, first by the greatest of the fathers, then repeated by modern thinkers--the human intellect is so great, first, that it can take exact ideas, and then, because it is infinite, that it can act instantly upon ideas that are real but indistinct. Christ--yes, first He is indistinct yet most real--real because He entered into history, real because He exprest the idea that is in the brain and heart of us all; indistinct because these little twenty centuries have separated us from His actual historic life; but a fact to those who seek Him, because His power is to make Himself an inward gift to the human soul, because His activity is such that He meets us on the altar of His sacred sacrament, that He meets us in the divine Word to express His thoughts, that He meets us in consolation, that He meets us in absolution, in moments of sorrow and of prayer. Oh, you are not driven to a distant infinity! Oh, you are not asked to rest upon a shadow I Oh, you are not besought to play the dreamer or the sentimentalist, when you think about God! Oh, you are asked to remember that fair, sweet vision--the vision of a Man so devoid of vulgarity, that whilst He loved the people He did not despise the great--the vision of a Man so strong that He could face a multitude, so tender that He could raise the lost woman, so gentle that the little children gathered their arms about His neck; the vision of a Man at home with fishermen, and at home with the high-born, with thoughts so deep that they permeate modern Christendom, with thoughts so simple that they taught truth to ancient Galilee; the vision of a Man who encouraged youth, the One on whom we rest, by whom we hang, in whom we hope, who sympathizes with all our best desires, who does not denounce us, but only intercedes and pities; the Man who never places Himself upon a Pharisaic pedestal, but feels with the child, with the boy, with the man, with the woman,--the Man of men, the crown of our humanity, the God in Man, the Man in God, the power of the sacraments, the force of prayer, the sweet, dear Friend who never misunderstands us, never forsakes us, never is hard upon us. My friends, it is your privilege, it is mine, beyond the privilege of the psalmist, to know in the gospel, to know in the Church, Christ, God exprest in humanity. Is your soul athirst for the highest? You may find it if you could come in repentance, if you come in desire, if you come in quiet determination to do your duty; you may find it satisfied--yes, now satisfied--in Christ. 
31670	----	A DISCOURSE FOR THE TIME DELIVERED JANUARY 4 1852 IN THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL UNITARIAN CHURCH BY W. H. FURNESS PASTOR * * * * * PHILADELPHIA C. SHERMAN PRINTER 1852 * * * * * DISCOURSE. ROM. 14:7. 'NONE OF US LIVETH TO HIMSELF.' In speaking from these words last Sunday morning, and in endeavoring to enforce the great truth which they express, I began with referring to certain facts which characterize that most brutal and ruthless military revolution which has just commenced in France, and the recent news of which made every heart, that cherishes any regard for Freedom and Humanity, burn with indignation. The first statements to which I alluded have been more than confirmed. Unarmed, unoffending citizens, utterly ignorant of what was going on, and taking no part in it, were shot down by hundreds in the streets, and then transfixed with bayonets. If but a window was opened, a shower of bullets was poured into it. Cannon were brought to bear upon whole blocks of private dwellings. In one instance, a woman who rushed out of the house to the help of her husband, who had fallen under the fire of the soldiery, was instantly despatched and laid dead at his side. Bloodshed and terror filled the place, and scenes were enacted, so eyewitnesses report, that baffle description, and that can find a parallel only when cities are sacked. Now, I refer to these facts, not to harrow up your feelings, my hearers, but because these facts, and such as these, speak trumpet-tongued, as to the vital interest and the sacred religious duty which every private man, no matter how humble and obscure,--nay, which every woman has, in those great questions that agitate nations, in what are designated as matters of public concern and the public welfare. I know very well that there are those who deplore it, and consider it a great grievance, that here, in this country, there is so much agitation of public matters in private circles, and by private, unofficial persons. To be sure, one would like to have quiet, if he could. But there is no help for it. We must take our lot as we find it. And such is the nature of our social fabric; drawing all the power of the government from the people, from the individuals that compose the people, that it is made the direct and plain duty of every man and woman of us to know about those things, which are public, for this very reason, because they concern the many,--the high and the low, the rich and the poor, the security, the happiness, the improvement, the civil and the religious liberties of every man in the land. A necessity is upon us; and if we have been accustomed to confine our ideas of duty and religion to the Church and the Sabbath, the sooner we get our minds sufficiently enlarged to see the religious obligation which binds us to the great Public of mankind, the better for us, for our neighbors, and for all men. So, then, the fact that private men are interested in public affairs, even though it be attended with a good deal of excitement,--that is not the thing to be deplored. But what is to be lamented is, that false way of thinking, out of place in this country, out of time in this age, by which thousands justify themselves in continuing ignorant and indifferent to things of a vital private concern, simply because they are of a public and general character. What is more common than to hear men say, in reference to such matters, 'They are no concerns of ours. We care nothing about them. Let those busy themselves about them who are so disposed. As for us, we are not going to perplex our brains, and fret and worry ourselves. We will mind our own business.' And, in the proud consciousness of this virtuous resolution, they wrap themselves up in their comforts, and keep aloof and indifferent, and flatter themselves that they are the wise and the prudent, they are the enlightened, judicious ones. They are no meddlers. They do not trouble themselves about what does not concern them. But though we will not meddle with public affairs, who shall answer for it that public affairs will not meddle with us? With such facts as I began with mentioning, glaring in our faces, sickening our very hearts with horror and indignation, who will say that public affairs may not interfere with us, with our very lives, yes, and with what ought to be dearer to us than our lives? Let them take their own course, as you say. And then, as surely as we breathe, bad men will gain the ascendency,--ignorant, unprincipled, ambitious men, despisers of human life and human rights, ready to shed blood to any extent to gratify the devilish lust of power. Into such hands will public affairs fall. And then there is no man--there is no woman, so retired but she shall find to her cost, that she has an interest, the very deepest,--that her all is involved in these things,--that they may tear from her her father, her husband, her brother or her son, aye, and her own life also, which she is pampering so delicately. There is some excuse for the people of France, ground down as they have been by ages of oppression, denied the right to think, to judge, to act for themselves, made to believe that their rulers held their power by the grace of God--there is some excuse for them. But, whatever may be their excuse, there can be no doubt that it is the ignorance, the indifference, the cowardice, the selfishness of the people at large that have caused their public affairs to wade so often towards a settlement, through such frightful streams of innocent and unoffending blood. Here, in our land, the peace and security of private life are as fully and extensively insured as they are, precisely for this reason, because of the lively and general interest which the people in their private capacity take in things of public concern. In this country more than in any other, the people keep a watchful and commanding eye upon public matters. And, with all the excitement and agitation which it involves, it is the great pledge of our private and personal security. But if the indifference to public affairs, which is now confined only to a class--only to a portion of the people--to too large a portion, indeed, but still only to a portion,--if it were to become general, if things were allowed to go on their way, without any interest taken in them by private persons, by those whose intelligence goes to create a commanding public opinion, then you would soon find your private interests, the comfort and lives of individuals, threatened and assailed. If your public affairs, as they are directed in your Public Councils, were uncontrolled by the sentiments of private men, they would soon be coming down into our streets and into our private dwellings with a most disastrous influence. They would make their appearance in the shape of armed men. They would be heard in the rattle of musketry and the roar of cannon; and the door-posts of the humblest and of the richest homes of the people might be spattered with the blood of inoffensive men, women, and children,--of the very persons who maintain that they have nothing to do with public matters. Already, well off as we may be in comparison with other nations, have not our public concerns, through the criminal neglect and insensibility of the people, taken such a direction as, if it does not put us in peril of having our blood spilt in the streets, yet endangers the sacred rights of Free Thought and Free Speech, and makes it hazardous to property and to personal liberty to obey the plainest dictates of humanity? There are things, as I have already intimated, which ought to be dearer to us than life, which may be exposed to suffer loss; and which are exposed to harm at this very hour by the bad administration of our public concerns. No doubt, these quiet people who have been so savagely butchered in the streets of Paris, little dreamed, when they left their homes that day, that they would be shot down as the enemies of the Government. They had nothing to do with the Government. They had no thought of crossing its path. They were pursuing the even tenor of their own quiet way. They desired only to mind their own business. And yet, had they been taking the most active interest in public affairs, they could not possibly have come to so miserable an end, as I will presently show. The simple, religious truth is, and the sooner every man accepts it, and makes up his mind and his life to it, the better for him, for our country, and for the world--the plain truth is, that '_no man liveth or can live to himself_'--that the interests, the highest interests, the personal character and salvation, the very life of the individual, in the most obvious and in the profoundest sense of the word, life, is wrapt up with the interests of the whole; in other words, with the public interest, with public affairs. We cannot--no man can separate himself and stand apart, and insist upon being ignorant and indifferent. It lies within our own will to say, whether we will meet and endeavor to answer the claims which the welfare of the whole has upon us, whether we will take a lively interest in the public interest; but it is not a matter of our own will whether we shall suffer or not. We may choose whether or not we will act; but the consequences, and they may be most deadly,--the consequences of our action or our no-action we cannot escape. They may fall upon us with a crushing power at our very firesides, and ruin our private and domestic peace for ever. So long as we live in society, and build our houses near our neighbors, we may or may not take an interest in the public provision which is made against fire, but we cannot avoid the danger and the consequences of a conflagration. Because a man keeps himself retired, never reading, never thinking about what is going on on the public theatre of the world, he has no security against being shot down like a dog in the streets, as the case of those unfortunate citizens of Paris shows. Certainly then, since we are liable to suffer from public affairs taking a wrong direction, whether we take an interest in them or not, it is worth our while to suffer for a cause. There is small comfort in incurring danger and in losing one's life for nothing. If we must suffer, when public events go wrong, it is best by far to suffer for something. For in times of universal alarm and disorder, when property and life are put in peril, they suffer the least, though they lose everything, who are inspired by the conviction that they have tried to be faithful and to do their duty. They have a life in them which bullets and bayonets and cannon-balls cannot reach. When men perish for a cause to which they were utterly indifferent, for which they cared nothing, of which they knew nothing, then they perish as the brutes perish. Then death comes to them as a fatal accident; and the only moral that can be drawn from their fate, is that it is folly for men to think to live unto themselves. No glory shines from their graves; no renown immortalizes their memories. But when men suffer and die for a cause, into which they have thrown their whole souls, when they perish for a principle, then their death is noble, and they do not die like the brutes, but like men. Then they are heroes and martyrs, and though dead, they speak with mighty angel voices; and their blood hallows for ever the spot on which it is shed, 'down to earth's profound, and up to Heaven,' and they become immortal in the affection and reverence of mankind, and in the influence which they exert upon the course of human affairs. For this reason it is, that I said just now, that those quiet people who have been killed in the streets of Paris, could not have perished so miserably had they taken an active interest in the great public question of Liberty. Then they would have had a spring of life in their own hearts; then they would have suffered for a cause for which it is worth any man's while to suffer, and die any death that a relentless power might inflict. I know that it is a very wise injunction, that every man should mind his own business; and that, if every man would only do that, the world would go on as well as heart could wish. I believe this, firmly. But then, since, in the very constitution of things, every man's 'own business' is inextricably interwoven with every other man's 'own business,' who shall draw the line? Who shall define the circle and the sphere of the private individual? Has not our Creator defined it already in our very being, inasmuch as, by the indestructible ties of human sympathy and a common nature, he has bound up the life, the interests, the business of the individual, with the life, the interests, the business of the whole? By his very nature, then, is it not every man's own business to know what the world is busy about, and to take an interest in the world's affairs, because they are his own? Is it not a truth written in the constitution of every individual man, the well-known declaration of the Roman slave: 'I am a man, and I hold nothing human foreign to me?' And does not our common Christianity teach over and over again in a thousand ways, that we are all members one of another, and that no man lives for himself? And is there any one fact, which the progress of events is now making, more manifest than the oneness of all mankind? Why, my hearers, it is because this simple and indestructible fact is not seen; because individuals are for ever trying to live, and work, and enjoy, not with and for, but at the expense of, their fellow-men, that things are so continually getting out of joint, and the world is so full of uproar and misery. My brothers, we are all One; and if we are resolved to mind each his own business, we must attend to the business which God and nature have given to us. We must interest ourselves in the cause of our common humanity. I do not say, that we must make this great cause our business. It is made our business already by our Maker. Consider then how the case stands. If we fling our whole hearts with a generous ardor into the conflict for the welfare of our brother, seeing to it with all vigilance that public affairs go wisely and justly, then if the fortunes of this good cause prosper, it is well with us; we triumph with it. But if it should be defeated, and we should be involved in its defeat, and suffer danger, loss, and even death itself, still how powerfully should we be sustained by the consciousness of suffering in so grand a behalf, for such a glorious reason! Who would not rather suffer with the Right than prosper with the Wrong? But if we will not fling our hearts into anything of a general and generous interest, if we insist that we will keep at a distance from all such matters, that we will be ignorant and insensible, we gain no additional security. Still our private lot is inextricably bound up with the public interest; and when those interests suffer, we must suffer with them, but with no sustaining power in our own minds. We may be shot down with the heroes and martyrs of Humanity without the heroes' joy or the martyrs' radiant crown. 'No man liveth to himself.' Since such is the simple Bible truth, and since it is a truth, which it becomes us to look at fully, and adopt as a fundamental principle and law of our thinking and of our living, let no one turn a deaf ear, and say I am talking politically now, because I refer to considerations of a public, and if you please, of a political character, to urge home upon your reason and your consciences your sacred duty as men, and as Christians, to take a hearty, intelligent, self-sacrificing interest in what is going on on the public theatre of the nation to which you belong, and of the world to which you belong as well, and in whose fortunes, we are every one of us so deeply interested. But this is no hour for apologies. This is no time for grown-up men to be dodging and hiding, and evading a great duty, under words and phrases. Political! what if I am political? what if every pulpit in the land should be ringing in these days with political events? God knows there is need. We should be lost to the ordinary feelings of men, if we could remain silent when political events are arresting and absorbing public attention, and threatening to rouse all the passions of the human heart, and to shake the earth out of its place. This present time, in which we are living, is no holiday, when a man can throw himself down in the shade, and dream his soul away. The fires, that are kindling on the earth, flash their portentous light into the inmost retirement of private life. The world is resounding with great events. And cold indeed must be our hearts, we are not worthy to live at so momentous, so unprecedented a period, if we refuse to be reminded of those indissoluble ties of a common nature and a common interest, which the course of things is laying bare to all men's view. As you are men, human beings, your hearts must beat with a new and stirring sympathy for the great Public of Christendom, of which you are each an inseparable portion, when you see the second great nation of Europe, after all the terrible experience of the last three-quarters of a century, again falling prostrate in the dust beneath the blow of a base usurper, with no great exploits at his back to extenuate the insolence of the brutal deed; again laid low beneath a despot's feet by that vulgar instrument of power, a standing army. I think there can hardly be found in modern history any parallel to this outrage upon truth, freedom, and humanity--to this implied contempt for human rights and human nature. A robber-hand has seized the great French nation, and flung it down into the dust to be trampled upon at pleasure. At such startling tidings, what man is there so humble or so weak, who can repress the solemn appeal to God, which must rise instinctively from every heart of flesh? Who can help having his attention arrested and engrossed? Who does not long to be saying something, doing something, or suffering something, for the outraged rights, the imperilled interests of our Common Humanity, our One Nature? But above all, who that has seen, who that has heard the great Hungarian exile, who has come to us, bringing his unhappy country in his heart, that does not feel his kindred to his oppressed brethren everywhere? I have looked full into those large, sad eyes, in which one seems to look into the great deep of a nation's sorrows. I have heard that voice, coming from his inmost soul, with which he pleaded for his dear native land, and I cannot so much as try to tell you of the profound impression which he made on me. I can set no limits to the power of such a man as I have just seen and heard. It may be (God grant it!) that it is not a mere transitory emotion of enthusiasm that he is awakening among the people of this land. It may be that the influence he is exerting is yet to penetrate the rock of our selfishness and insensibility, and call forth, in full flood, like one of our own great rivers, the mighty stream of our sympathy that shall sweep away from our land and from the earth, every vestige of oppression. Such a thing seems almost possible, when we observe how the advocates of Slavery on our own soil tremble at his approach, and fear to welcome him. Most devoutly do I hope that he may exert such an influence. It is my fervent prayer. It is yours, too, brethren, I do not doubt. But I cannot resist the conviction that he must fail of achieving the object so near his heart, and for which he is spending the strength of a giant, wearing away his life, if indeed a life, so deep and so intense, capable of so much labour, can be worn away. Yes, friends, he must fail. And happy will it be for him, great, wonderful as he is, if he comes out unscathed from the fiery and searching trial of his principles, upon which he entered the moment he stept upon our soil. Yes, he must fail. How can it be otherwise? He must fail; not because this people are averse to the possibility of war, for they have just come out from a war waged, not to extend Freedom you know. He must fail, not because we revere the counsels of the Father of our Country. But he must fail because there is a tremendous obstacle in his way to our free, unfettered sympathy, upon which that fond hope of his, that great heart of his, the treasury of a nation's woes, must be broken at last. When he spoke in this city the other evening, he repeated what he had said more than once before, that he had come hither resolved to interfere with no domestic concern of ours, with none of our party questions. But there is one 'domestic concern,' one 'party question,' which, while it is, in an obvious sense, a 'domestic concern,' does, in fact, necessarily and vitally involve those rights of Humanity for which this great man pleads, and which he is considered as representing when he urges upon us the claims of his oppressed country. In reason, and in the nature of things, it is connected with him and with his great purpose. So clearly is this so, that they, who see what a monstrous Wrong our 'domestic concern' is, what a world of evil it has done and is doing, have watched our illustrious guest with trembling solicitude. For his own sake they are appalled lest he should waver from a faithful application of his own cherished faith; not that they desire him to join them, but they justly expect from him as a true man, that he should allow no shadow of doubt to rest upon his principles and his position. For myself, I cannot help thinking, that he looks upon American Slavery as a thing, which we, ourselves, are at this moment busily engaged in abolishing. He finds men, eminent in office and in ability, ranked on the Anti-Slavery side. He knows that they are backed by the great authority of our Declaration of Independence, and assisted by the powerful influence of the freest institutions on the face of the earth; and he naturally regards it as needless and arrogant to interfere in the affairs of so mighty a nation--a nation so vigorous as to be able, one would think, to settle any difficulties that may lie in its way, without assistance from abroad. But, although he has expressed his determination not to meddle with our domestic institutions, our domestic institutions threaten to meddle with him. Scarcely had he landed on our shores, when a voice was heard in our National Councils, proposing his arrest for incendiary speech; a proposal, the gross insult of which, not only to him, but to us all, was only relieved by its unutterable folly. This is not the only hint of the insolent interference in his concerns, with which the upholders of Oppression on this side of the world have menaced him. He looks, I believe, upon American Slavery as an affair which he, he especially who helped to elevate the peasantry of his own country, knows that we have the power to settle. But, however much he may have heard about it, he does not yet know that we have not the will to settle it. He does not yet know how deep-seated it is, and how mighty and extensive its influence is in deadening our hearts, and controlling our national action. Although he is a man of profound sagacity, yet, with all the information that may have been furnished him, it can only be by degrees, and by actual observation, that his mind will win its way to a true and terrible conviction of the actual state of the case. But he will--he must see how the matter stands; and he will declare, most fervently do I trust, what he cannot help seeing. The fact must become as plain to him as noonday, that there is no one thing in which the oppressed nations of Europe have a deeper interest, than in the abolition of American Slavery; because this is the one thing which prevents the full expression of our sympathy in their behalf, and neutralizes that moral aid, which, if we rendered it to the full extent of our power, would make all material aid entirely superfluous. Some of his words the other evening were very significant. Having said that he had done nothing, and would do nothing to interfere with our domestic affairs, he added that remarkable declaration:--'I more and more perceive, in the words of Hamlet, that there are more things in heaven and earth, than _were_ dreamed of in _my_ philosophy.' How could he have dreamed that a people who had made such a solemn declaration of human rights before all the world, a people so lavish in the praise of Liberty, were clinging with such desperation to Oppression, as if it were the very life and soul of their Union and their Power. No matter how much he may have been told, and he is in nothing more remarkable than in the extent of his information, he has not yet known--he cannot know--it could not have entered into his generous heart to imagine, that this Domestic Institution of ours is the one thing that exerts the most marked and predominating influence on our domestic and our foreign policy. He does not see, but he must, that it is the one thing that will make his appeal to our National Government utterly in vain, and that his silence in regard to it will avail him nothing. It must become plain to him that we are ready enough to intervene when the Slave Power requires it for the increase and extension of its own strength. For that we are ready to go to war with our neighbors, and rob them of their territory. In that behalf our statesmen have sought to enlist the interests and sympathies of foreign nations. And that it is, whose interests will prevent us from a full and generous expression of our interest in the downtrodden of other lands. We are interfering with human rights at home, we are constitutionally bound to interfere with them, and we hold it for our advantage to do so; and we cannot intervene to prevent interference with them abroad. On this account alone, could a man of such rare power, of such wonderful eloquence, coming among us upon such a mission, fail. Yes, this favorite domestic institution, corrupting the whole administration of our government at home and abroad,--this it is that will disappoint and defeat the Hungarian patriot's idolised hope. He has come hither as to the very temple of Freedom, and he finds coiled up under her very altar, as its guardian, the serpent of Oppression, and already its deadly hiss has rung in his surprised ear. American Slavery has much to answer for; but if it adds this to the mountain of its iniquities, if it is the cause why the hope of bleeding and fettered Europe is blasted, if it break the noble heart of Hungary's devoted servant and chief, and more than all, if it cause him to falter in the cause of universal humanity, what tongue now silent will not join in execrating it? what heart, hitherto cold, will not consecrate itself to the work of its abolition? The nations of the old world, degraded, trampled upon, and bleeding under the relentless feet of arbitrary power, long and pray for emancipation. The glorious vision of Liberty flits before their aching sight. They stretch out their hearts and hands to us. But the supporters of the old and oppressive forms of government sneer at our boasted universal freedom, as well they may, and point to our millions of bondmen. They can say, with truth, that Liberty does not exist here or anywhere as a realized fact; that it is a chimera and an abstraction, utterly impracticable; that the people are longing for a dream that has never been and can never be fulfilled. Neither the foreign oppressor, nor the foreign oppressed have any foundation in fact for the faith and the hope of liberty; and much I fear we should do little for the deliverance of other nations, even if, as we now stand, clinging to Slavery, we were actually to intervene in their behalf. If we saw any chance of strengthening and extending our 'domestic institution,' we might in that case be ready enough to give them our help. O how plain is it that the one thing which the world claims of us, the one thing that the great Hungarian has to ask of us, for his own people and for all Europe, is that we should prove that _Liberty without Slavery_ is a practicable thing. Let this fact be realized, and the world's redemption is sure. Show mankind twenty-five millions of human beings, living together under such free and simple institutions as ours, with not a single slave among them, and then all that we need do is done, and our simple existence as a nation becomes an irresistible intervention against the violation of human rights. To induce us to do this, the Hungarian patriot may well go down on those knees which he would not bend to Emperor or Czar, and adjure us for the love of God and man, by all the dearest hopes and interests of the human race, by the great name of the holy Jesus, to make our liberty complete, to redeem our long-violated pledge, to wipe away the blot that eclipses the sun of our Freedom, and prove, as we may, that all men are children of one Father, brethren of one household, born to the glorious liberty of the sons of the living God. If, in any way, he should be the means in the hands of a gracious Providence of inducing us to do this, he will do more for us than we could do for him, though we were to place all the gold of the East, and of the West, at his disposal. 
44053	----	"_WORK TOO FAIR TO DIE._" SERMONS SELECTED FROM THE PAPERS OF THE LATE REV. CLEMENT BAILHACHE. EDITED BY THE REV. J. P. BARNETT. THE HOLY CAUTIONS THAT HE GAVE, THE PRAYERS HE BREATHED, THE TEARS HE WEPT, YET LINGER HERE, THOUGH IN THE GRAVE, THROUGH MANY A YEAR THE SAINT HAS SLEPT. London: ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW. MDCCCLXXX. [Illustration: {Portrait of Clement Bailhache} Photographed by S. S. Priestley, Huddersfield.] CONTENTS. Introduction by the Editor vii SERMON PAGE I. Salvation.--_Titus_ i. 11-14 1 II. Propitiation.--_1 John_ ii. 2 13 III. Faith in the Saviour.--_Acts_ xvi. 31 29 IV. Sincerity of Heart Necessary to the Understanding of the Gospel.--_John_ vii. 17 41 V. The Humble Taught the Lord's Way.--_Psalm_ xxv. 9 50 VI. The Gratitude of the Pardoned.--_Luke_ vii. 47 66 VII. Consecration.--_Romans_ xii. 1, 2 81 VIII. Christianity in our Daily Life.--_Colossians_ iii. 17 104 IX. Unconscious Influence.--_Matthew_ xii. 36, 37 117 X. Secular Anxiety.--_Matthew_ vi. 25, 31 133 XI. Contentment.--_Philippians_ iv. 11-14 151 XII. Joy.--_Philippians_ iv. 4 164 XIII. Sickness.--_John_ xi. 4 173 XIV. Jesus Only.--_Matthew_ xvii. 8 181 XV. Prayer.--_Matthew_ vii. 7, 8 189 XVI. Assurance.--_2 Timothy_ i. 12 206 XVII. Immortality.--_Psalm_ viii. 4 222 XVIII. Heaven.--_Revelation_ vii. 15 235 INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR. The preparation of this volume for the press, whilst it has necessarily entailed considerable labour, has happily been attended with little difficulty. None of these sermons were prepared for the pulpit with any idea of publication, and only a few of them, which need not be specified, should be taken as finished compositions. Their author, however, never allowed himself to think superficially or to write carelessly. His MSS. are easily read, and are in such a state as to leave almost nothing to be done in the way of revision. Many other sermons equal to these in power and interest might have been included, if space had served. I ought, perhaps, to say that the selection has been determined by a wish to place before the reader, in the order of a series, Mr. Bailhache's thoughts on Christian Doctrine, Faith, Duty, Privilege, Experience, and Hope. I trust that the collection, as it stands, will give as comprehensive an idea, as any posthumous publication _could_ give, of the character and style of a ministry to which, under God, many souls--some in heaven, and some still on earth--owe their truest spiritual light and their best spiritual strength. It must have been a privilege of no ordinary value to listen Sabbath after Sabbath to preaching such as this. No one could read, as I have had to read, the whole mass of sermons entrusted to me, without perceiving that he who wrote and spoke them was "a workman that needed not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth." He was penetrated to the very centre of his being with a sense of the grandeur of the Bible as a Divine Revelation, and of the glory of the Gospel as a Divine remedy for the sin and sorrow of the world. He had his own way of developing religious truth, and of applying it to the mind, the conscience, and the heart. He preserved his individuality of thought and of method in every part of every discourse. But he was no theological speculatist. With all needful fearlessness in his thinking and reading, his constant endeavour was to ascertain "the mind of the Spirit," and to present _that_, in its enlightening and sanctifying power, to his hearers in all their manifold spiritual conditions. He was familiar with the forms of scepticism prevalent in our time, and with the reasonings which give to them more or less of plausibility. "The riddle of the world" had its saddening aspects for him, as it has for all earnest souls. But the anxieties which spring from such sources found in his mind an all-sufficient solace in the beautiful adaptations and the splendid triumphs of the truth as it is in Jesus. He could see clearly enough that, by the Gospel, God was filling the world's darkness with light, and turning its curse into a blessing. Science might advance, and in its advance might seem to set itself against Biblical facts, and against the principles founded upon them; but he was all along calmly and intelligently assured that Science rightly so called, and Revelation rightly interpreted, so far from meeting in antagonism, must meet in cordial and comely agreement, and take their place side by side for the higher instruction of mankind. He did not preach on these matters controversially, but contented himself with the quiet announcement, on all appropriate occasions, of the results of his own studies; and those results were always on the side of an implicit faith in Evangelical Christianity. One of the most marked characteristics of his ministry was the uninterrupted and profound reverence he paid to what he believed, on honest and mature investigation, to be the Divine authority of Scripture teaching. He knew, of course, that a conscientious and enlightened criticism has its work to do upon the Book; but his comprehensive and careful reading only strengthened his conviction that such criticism, so far from invalidating its authority, must render the nature of that authority increasingly transparent, and its basis increasingly firm. Thus he could draw forth from the Book the teaching contained in it, and could present it to the reverent faith of his congregation, without misgiving. His ministry was eminently evangelical, in the broadest and best sense of the word. It was this all-pervading quality which gave to it its special beauty and impressiveness. He wanted to be wise, and to make his people wise, _up_ to what is written; above that he did not attempt to soar. Mr. Bailhache was an able Biblical Expositor. I find amongst the papers before me, expositions of the Decalogue, the First Psalm, the Lord's Prayer, the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians, the Messages to the Seven Churches, and the Epistles to the Galatians and the Philippians. These comprise eighty discourses, and many of them are so good that they ought not to remain in seclusion. Possibly some channel of publicity may yet be found for them. The estimate in which Mr. Bailhache was held as a Christian teacher by those best fitted to judge, is fitly expressed in the following extract from the Address which was presented to him by the Congregation at Islington, on his retirement from the pastorate there in the autumn of 1870:--"During a period of six years and a half, you have ministered to us in holy things, and, as the servant of the Lord Jesus, you have sought our highest spiritual good. In all your ministerial work in our midst, you have so impressed us with the conviction of your entire devotedness to our interests, and to the exaltation and glory of Christ, that our minds have been the more easily constrained to give heed to your instructions, and we have the more deeply felt the force of your influence and your example. The thought has often occurred to us (and it has been often expressed), that if we were not becoming better Christians--more conformed to the image of Christ--our shame was the greater, considering how constantly you have been the faithful and able exponent of the mind of the Spirit, and with what freshness, variety, and power, you have been enabled to set before us things new and old out of the treasury of the Lord's word. Nor have you ever permitted us to feel that you occupied a region remote from ourselves, or that the isolation of the study and of your official character, made you self-absorbed or unsympathetic. The very contrary of this has been our happy experience. With an almost surprising power of appropriation, you have made our doubts and difficulties, our hopes and fears, our joys and sorrows, all your own, and, with a whole-hearted sympathy that has entered into all the experiences of the Christian life, you have, in the pulpit and in the class, and in the more private opportunities of the family and of friendship, been made eminently useful in the communication of help and strength. To not a few your ministrations have been made the savour of life unto life, who will be your crown and rejoicing one day, since through your word they have been reconciled to God by Jesus Christ. We magnify the grace of God in you, and none the less when we declare that your life and labours in our midst have placed us under lasting obligations of gratitude and love." I regret that I have not space for a few pages of pithy, condensed jottings extracted from the Author's "Diary," and written by him during hours of private devotion. They would testify, in common with every other part of the volume, to the atmosphere of piety in which our beloved friend habitually lived. In social life, he was playful and jocose; and many who have thought that they knew him well, knew him almost exclusively as he was in such moods as these. He was however emphatically a man who "walked with God." Many others knew him only in connection with his official work, and gave to him their unstinted admiration for his plodding, almost pertinacious industry. He had "a mind to work," but he sanctified and ennobled all his work by prayer. I have often had, as, no doubt, many more have had, the privilege of his society in the lone hours of the night, when he could talk with the unreserved frankness of a confiding friend; and I never left him after such hallowed times as these without feeling that I had been drawn nearer to him, and through him, nearer to the Saviour, by the modest, holy, Christian beauty of his spirit. Alas, that so comely and benignant a life should have closed so early! He died at forty-eight years of age. We have no right, nor have we any disposition, to repine; but we cannot refrain from mourning. He began life well, sacrificing fair interests as a member of the legal profession in Jersey, with the Island Bar in view, and was soon preparing for the Christian ministry at Stepney College. His preaching was attractive, and at the termination of his academic course, he became the pastor of the influential church at South Parade Chapel, Leeds. Four years later, he removed to Watford, and from thence, in 1864, to Cross Street, Islington, where his ministry may be said to have approached, if it did not actually reach, its maturity. In 1870 he relinquished the pastorate for Secretarial work at the Baptist Mission House, into which he threw all the steady, quenchless enthusiasm of his nature, and upon which the blessing of God conspicuously rested. Discharging his duties with a fidelity and a skill which were as effective as they were modest, he was equally beloved by the Missionaries abroad, and by his colleagues and the constituencies at home; and he had the satisfaction of knowing that, notwithstanding many difficulties, he was contributing in various ways to the advancement of the great enterprize. The toil and anxiety entailed upon him were onerous in the extreme, and after a time it became obvious to his friends that his multifarious exertions were undermining his strength. He went to the Baptist Union meetings in Leeds in the October of 1878, when he ought to have been taking repose; and, though seriously ill, he there preached what proved to be his last Sermon, in the chapel of his first pastorate--the Sermon on "Immortality" in this volume--and read his last paper, on "Our Missionary Principles and Motives." It is remarkable that he should thus have finished his public course in the town of his first ministerial settlement, and that he should have there spoken his last public words on behalf of that great department of Christian work which had engaged his best thoughts and his warmest sympathies for many years, and to his holy zeal for which it may be truly said that he sacrificed his life. At those Leeds meetings, he was "already within the shadow of death," and returned home to sink gradually but surely beneath the distressing malady which took him to heaven on the 13th of the following December. To his widowed companion and helpmeet, whose faithful affection he prized as his most precious earthly treasure--to his children and kindred, who so fondly loved him, and so deeply revere his memory--to the churches which he so wisely and so zealously served in the work of the Gospel--to the Missionary Society in the sacred interests of which he lived and died--and to the numberless personal friends to whom he was so dear, and who will ever thank God that they were permitted to enjoy his genial confidence and sympathy--these productions of his brain and heart are dedicated, with the grateful assurance that, through them, he, being dead, will yet continue to speak, and, speaking thus, will still be the helper of many in "the way everlasting." J. P. BARNETT. Oxford, _August, 1880_. I. _SALVATION._ "The grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ; who gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works."--Titus ii. 11-14. Briefly stated, the consequences of the Fall were these--that man became unholy in point of character, and guilty in point of law. The first covenant God made with man was a covenant of law, and the two "trees" shadowed forth, the one the condition, the other the benefit, of such a covenant. "The tree of the knowledge of good and evil" points to obedience as the condition; and "the tree of life" points to life, in its fullest and most spiritual sense, as the benefit. Man disobeyed. He failed to fulfil the condition, and thus he lost the blessing. Henceforth, if there is to be any blessing for him, it must come on some other ground, and from some higher source. Having forfeited all hope from law, his only possible hope must come, if it come at all, from mercy. We thus perceive that when the great salvation wrought by Christ is announced to us, we have to do at the outset with what on God's part is 1. An act of pure sovereignty. Condemnation was the righteous award of a just law to a creature who had broken it, and who could not plead any admissible excuse for his sin. The law might, therefore, have been allowed to take its course, thus receiving honour before the whole intelligent universe. Only one Will in the universe was free to interfere; the will of the Lawgiver and Creator Himself. Interference on His part, however, could not be under the pressure of legal obligation, but must be in the exercise of a sovereign right. Hence, the key-note of the gospel is "the _Grace_ of God." 2. An act of boundless love. It is obvious that salvation cannot have proceeded from any other motive in the Divine Mind. "God _so loved_ the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." The Bible has no other solution of the origin of salvation to offer than this. Now, that which proceeds from sovereignty and love on the part of God must absolutely preclude all claim or thought of merit on the part of man. Merit leaves no room, no occasion for grace. Grace begins where merit ends, if grace be given at all.--What, then, _is_ the "great salvation"? Man, being unholy and guilty, needed a salvation which would include his justification or his forgiveness, and one which would culminate in his sanctification by the restoration to him of his lost spiritual power. In other words, he needed a deliverance from the curse of sin, and also from sin itself. This deliverance, man cannot find within his own nature. He cannot save himself from the curse of sin; for inasmuch as the law righteously demanded a perfect and constant obedience, he could never blot out the guilt of former sins by acts of obedience at a later period of life. Moreover, such later acts of a perfect obedience are impossible to him, for holiness does not proceed from a sinful nature. "Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean?" Men do not "gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles." Man is as depraved and as weak as he is guilty. Self-salvation is impossible; salvation is of the Lord alone. The gospel is the announcement of the fact that God saves, and of the method in which the great work of salvation is done by Him. I. The Word of God, both in the Old and in the New Testament, proclaims a dispensation of Divine mercy. So unexpected and so cheering is this proclamation that it has given the gospel the name it bears. It is emphatically "good news"--good news from God to man. This good news announces that the first deliverance which man requires is provided for. God remits the penalty of sin. But how? He does this in such a way that, so far from weakening law, or invalidating the condemnation of sin, He shows more clearly than ever, how holy is the law, and how just the condemnation. Hence, though this forgiveness is an act of pure mercy, it is mercy exercised in a righteous way through the wonderful sacrifice of Christ. This was the meaning of the promise that accompanied the curse; and so clear was it that it was apprehended in the first sacrifices men ever offered. The Jewish sacrifices shadowed it forth. The Scriptures teach this method of Divine forgiveness in the plainest terms. I quote two or three passages in proof: Rom. iii. 23-26; John i. 29; 1 John ii. 1, 2; 1 Peter ii. 24; Isaiah liii. 4-6. This is Scripture, and we must not dare to trifle with it. These declarations can have but one meaning. Christ has suffered in our stead the penalty we had all deserved, that we might receive, for His sake, that eternal life and blessedness which _He only had deserved_. On this point all the types and teachings of both Testaments speak with one voice. There are, no doubt, in this substitution of the innocent for the guilty, some difficulties for human reason. But _we_ have to do with the Bible. It meets conscience; and reason must bend in submission before a grace the deeper meaning of which it does not see. Observe, however, that according to the Scripture representation, the substitution was divinely appointed, and the Substitute Himself was a willing victim. We accept the doctrine, (1) Partly in virtue of human need. Conscience points to the necessity of a satisfaction. (2) Partly in virtue of the peace and the joy to which faith in the doctrine gives rise.--"Scripture always lays stress upon the Saviour's humiliation and bitter sufferings. We are not said to be redeemed by His incarnation, by His birth, by His miracles, by His doctrine, not even by His agony in the garden, though all these were necessary to the ransom; but by His blood." On this ground of the Atonement, the first part of salvation--forgiveness--is secured. II. Man needs also to be redeemed from sin. This need, like the former, he is unable to meet of himself, but God meets it on his behalf. How? By putting into the heart a fertile germ of holiness. Freedom from condemnation and regeneration are indissolubly connected together in God's idea of salvation, and He achieves both by the work of Christ His Son. This redemption from the love, and consequently from the power of sin, is accomplished by Him on a principle which is divinely simple and efficacious; a principle which lies at the root of the theory of evangelical sanctification. This principle is the love which He excites _in_ us by the manifestation of His own love _to_ us. Thus the Apostle John writes: "Whosoever abideth in Him sinneth not; whosoever sinneth hath not seen Him, neither known Him" (1 John iii. 6). "He that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is love" (1 John iv. 8). To love God, and, under the constraining influence of love, to serve Him, we have need to know and to realise how great is the love of God to us. Now this Divine love has been revealed to the world through the medium of that same Saviour, who by His sacrificial death has opened up the way for our pardon and our restoration to the Divine favour. The Son of God came into the world to reveal the heart of the Father. What greater gift could God have bestowed than that of His Divine Son? What greater proof of love could He have exhibited than that which this greatest of all possible gifts presents? "God _so_ loved." And Christ has perfectly performed His mission. His whole ministry was a declaration of the Divine love. Of that love His death on the cross was the sublimest expression. We learn therefrom not only that God manifests to us His mercy, _but also at what cost_. Our debt must be paid; and as we are bankrupt, He pays it on our behalf. And who is our Substitute? Not a man, not an angel, not any creature; but the Divine Son, "by whom God made the worlds and upholds them by the word of His power," "who is the brightness of the Father's glory and the express image of His person"--it was _He_ who "by Himself purged our sins." Such is the love of God. We cannot fathom it, for it is Divine; but in proportion as we are enabled to "know" it, we say "We love Him because He first loved us;" "We are bought with a price: we are not our own." And we say our devout "Amen!" when the chiefest Apostle of mercy says to us: "I beseech you, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service." This Divine love, however, wonderful as it is, is offered to unsusceptible hearts. Hence the necessity--hence also the gift--of the Holy Spirit, through whom God strives with man. The Holy Spirit is the gift of Christ; and He convinces the world of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment. He takes of the things of Christ, and shows them unto us. See, then, the completeness of the Divine plan of salvation. To undeserving hearts God offers His love in Christ; to unsusceptible hearts He explains and commends it by His Spirit. III. The only remaining question is as to our own part in the great plan of mercy. Because we are intelligent and moral creatures, God does not save us without our own concurrence. To every one who desires to receive this twofold gift--the gift of pardon and of sanctification--a certain disposition is necessary. That disposition is in the Scriptures called "faith." Faith is the divinely-appointed condition of salvation. The terms are simple, but they are indispensable. Scripture, in every part, recognises and imposes them. From the earliest times they have been complied with, as in the sacrifices of Abel, Noah, and Abraham. It was this same principle of faith that gave validity to the worship under the Mosaic dispensation. So the Lord Jesus Christ, who healed men's physical diseases as types of the diseases of the soul, always demanded faith as the condition of His working. As it was with Christ, so it was with His apostles. Thus Paul said to the Philippian jailer, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." All this shows to us that whilst, on the one hand, we are saved by grace; on the other, we have no participation in the grace which saves, except by the exercise of our own faith in the Saviour. What is this faith? It may be considered in its principle, and in its application. In its principle, it is a general conviction that the Bible is the Word of God, and that what He says therein should receive our assent; or, in other words, should be accepted by us as _true_. In its application, it is the belief of God's Word as it respects _ourselves_. It is this which Paul commends to the Philippian jailer. When a man, under the burden of his sin, says, "I am lost; I cannot save myself; save me, Lord!" we have an illustration of this applied faith--a sense of personal misery, a sense of personal helplessness, a sense of a Saviour willing to save him personally, and a direct appeal to that Saviour for salvation. From the moment of such a prayer, there is not a single promise of Scripture that such a man may not make his own. A promised pardon, a promised Spirit, a promised heaven--all are his! The essence of the faith is in the conviction which expresses itself thus: "Jesus Christ is not only able and willing to be the Saviour of all men, but He is my Saviour." Such a faith brings Christ and the soul together in precisely those relations in which He is the Saviour, and in which the soul is saved. But how is this faith obtained? Must not God give it? Yes. So Paul, writing to the Philippians, tells them it was "given" to them "to believe in Christ." Must we, then, listlessly wait until it comes to us? No. Paul again says to these same Philippians, "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling." The reconciliation of these two truths into one theory may be difficult, but in practice it is easy enough. _We recognise them both when we ask for faith._ For to ask is to recognise our need of that for which we ask; it is also to recognise the fact that we do not possess it of ourselves; and it is also to seek and to act. Ask, then, for faith, and God will say: "Wilt thou be made whole?" Will you--not as a vague desire, but as the most earnest determination of your heart and will? Ask for faith; God will grant it. Ask largely; you cannot ask too much. And even if you sigh over the weakness of desire, press the old and never-failing prayer: "Lord, I believe; help Thou my unbelief." Faith saves, and grace saves. This is scarcely a contradiction in terms, and certainly it is no contradiction in principle. Faith is the instrument; grace is the primary and efficacious power. Faith is the channel; grace is the stream. Faith touches the hem of the Saviour's garment; grace is the virtue that passes forth from Him in response to the touch. Christ reaches down from heaven; faith reaches up from earth; each hand grasps the other--the one in weakness, the other in power--and salvation is in the grasp. Take--oh, take that pierced hand! Amen. II. _PROPITIATION._ "He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world."--1 John ii. 2. It is easier to attack than to defend. An objection may be stated in a single sentence which shall require many pages for an adequate reply. Those who reject Christianity generally adopt this method, but I know not why they should be allowed to monopolise it. Why should not believers, instead of simply proving that there is a God, and that the Bible is His Word, insist upon positive proof from their opponents that there is no God, and that the Bible is nothing more than a human book? Why should we not impose upon them the more difficult task of defending their position, by attacking it with all earnestness at every point? For Christian defence, we have need to be both really and consciously very strong in the truth. On the other hand, to be an unbeliever, a man can do without either knowledge or goodness. He has only to ply you with his eternal "_Why?_" _Why_, because the universe exists, must it have ever been _created_? _Why_ may it not have always existed? _Why_ are we bound to accept the teaching of the Bible? _Why_ was it necessary that Christ should suffer to expiate our sins? _Why_ did Christ come so late in the history of the world? _Why_ are there no miracles now? _Why? Why? Why?_-- As Christians, however, we take the position open to us, whether of attack or defence. We do so because the salvation of our adversaries is dear to us, and because we are so sure that the course they adopt injures, not ourselves, but them. We bring to them a priceless treasure--salvation through, and from, the crucified Christ. If they hinder us, the loss is theirs. On the present occasion we deal with one of the questions often propounded: "Why was it necessary that Christ should die for our sins, in order that we may be saved?" or, "How can the sufferings of the innocent atone for the sins of the guilty?" To make our answer more clear, we begin by saying: "We do not know." Why should we insist--why should any one insist--upon understanding the "_why_" of this arrangement? Why should not every one be content to know the _fact_? If the reason of the fact were obvious, we should, of course, gladly accept it; but if it be hidden from us, whilst the fact itself is disclosed, why should we complain? We cannot fully understand the Divine purposes. We can only guess. Even angels study, and wonder, and adore, but do not fully know. Let it be observed that the real question here is not exactly as unbelievers put it. Thus: I do not know how the rays of the sun enlighten my eyes, nor how my enlightened eyes transmit ideas to my mind. Does it follow that the sun does not enlighten, or that my mind does not receive impressions through what I see? The imperative question is, not, "How is the thing done?" but, "_Is_ it done?"--not as to the _reason_ of the fact, but the _reality_ of it. So in the matter before us. It is surely enough for us to show that redemption through the sacrifice of Christ, like the sun, comes from God, and that it gives light, life, and fruit. This being done, nothing more can be reasonably asked. To know whether this doctrine of redemption is God's truth, it is sufficient to know whether the Bible is God's Word. And here we ask, What will you do with ancient prophecies and their fulfilment?--with confirmations of Bible history which are continually accumulating?--with the conspicuous excellence of the moral teaching and influence which the Bible supplies?--with the sublimity of Christ's character?--with the miracles He wrought?--with the marvellous effects of Christianity upon the world, notwithstanding the strongest inducements, in human prejudice, to its rejection? Settle such questions as these according to the admitted laws of evidence, and then there will be no reason to contend as to the "why" and the "how" of redemption. Such, however, is not the method which the unbeliever pursues. He turns away from the Record as a source of instruction. It is hard to convince a man who begins by closing his ears with his own pride. To whatever study a man addresses himself, he will never advance in it in _spite_ of himself. His progress will be proportioned, among other things, to the amount of honest effort he makes to learn. That is, he must feel the fact and the disadvantage of his own ignorance. Who could study mathematics by beginning at the outset to dispute its axioms? Just so with Christian truth. Put aside prejudice and pride. Do not take it for granted that you have light enough in your mind, at starting, to pronounce upon the truth or the falsity, the reasonableness or the unreasonableness, of the doctrine of salvation through the cross of Christ. Listen attentively. Look for more light, and receive it when it comes. We do not say: "Believe before you have read;" but we do say: "Don't contradict before you have read." I have already said that we are not obliged to _explain_ the philosophy of the redemption which is taught in the Scriptures. Let me now say that that redemption is itself the best solution of the great difficulty which is felt by the believer and the unbeliever alike. It is this: Conscience tells us that God is just; the heart tells us that He is good;--how then can a God whose justice and goodness are equal, _i.e._, both of them infinite, escape from the position in which sinners have placed Him? I put the difficulty in this bold form in order that it may be the more distinctly apprehended. We have sinned, and a just God must punish. We sigh after happiness, and a good God--a God who is infinitely kind--may be expected to bestow happiness upon us. But how can God deal with us in both these ways at one and the same time? We know instinctively, of course, that there is no real dilemma to God Himself; but those who reject the atonement of Christ are bound to deal with what presents itself as an inevitable dilemma to _them_. The unbeliever says: "God is too good to punish." What then becomes of His justice, since conscience testifies that we are sinners, that sin deserves punishment, that vice and virtue are not one, that God cannot deal in the same way with both without encouraging the vice which needs to be suppressed, and discouraging the virtue which needs to be upheld? Take away the fear of punishment under the pretext that God is good, and you deprive conscience of its meaning and its power. Shall it be said, then, that God will punish every transgressor? Have the numberless generations which have been upon the earth gone to an inevitable doom? This conclusion is as hard to admit as the other. The instincts of the heart are against it. No; men do not accept either conclusion to the exclusion of the other. They say God will adopt a mean between His justice and His mercy so as to bring them into harmony. But how? Here is the crucial difficulty. Is it to be solved by the principle of mutual concession? Let me remind you, again, that the difficulty is not created by God, but by man. In Him, justice and mercy are really one: it is only to us that they are seen to be two; and it is our sin which disturbs and confuses our conception of their union with each other. He might indeed annihilate us, and so leave us no opportunity to complain. But our whole moral and emotional nature repels with horror the thought of such a termination to our sin, as being unworthy of the God who has to govern us. No! when we reflect seriously upon the question, we cannot resist the feeling that God must have some plan of rescuing us from the doom we merit which shall give equal expression to His justice and His mercy. Men in general, alas! hold justice cheaply, and, lowering the Divine standard of human character, they easily persuade themselves that they may enter heaven through the breach they have made in the Divine attributes. They think that God is indulgent, and will forgive, forgetting that indulgence is weakness. God _will_ forgive, but His forgiveness must stand on safe ground. It cannot apply indiscriminately to all men. Men think they have said all when they have said, "God will forgive." Such a forgiveness would aim a blow at His justice. No matter; He will forgive! Such a forgiveness is without motive--an effect without a cause. No matter; He will forgive! Such a forgiveness has its root in sentiment, not in reason. It matters not; He will forgive! Such a forgiveness imposes no obligation on the forgiver, and encourages sin. Never mind; He will forgive! Surely this is the spiritual blindness which comes from the perversion of the conscience and the heart. Some say, "God forgives; but the condition is that we turn away from sin and live a life of holiness." There are many answers to this; but I will only ask those who thus speak, "Are you now living in such a way as to have in your present holiness, and on the ground of it, the assurance of your pardon?" That is a question which conscience may be safely left to answer. At this point Christianity comes professing to reveal to us the Divine plan of salvation. It tells us that God forgives for the sake of Jesus Christ, who is Himself, in His sacrifice, the gift of the Father's love. A debt has been contracted; the insolvent debtor presents in payment the money which a friend has freely contributed for the purpose; the creditor is satisfied. In this way goodness and justice are reconciled. It is Divine love which meets the claim of the Divine Righteousness. The redeemed soul, redeemed by the blood of Christ, is led to obedience by a love which responds to the love which has redeemed him. This last result none can dispute. Does it spring from error? No; it is too pure, too blessed for that. The redemption that produces it is a true principle founded in the nature of God--sublime in its working--like sap, inexplicable, but justified by the beauty of its foliage and the goodliness of its fruits. Let us look a little more closely into this principle of Propitiation. Suppose we were reading the gospel for the first time, free from prejudice, and from the deadening influence of habit; we should be struck with the prominence everywhere given in it to the death of Christ. Ask a Christian child, or an aged saint, "What did Christ come on earth to do?" The answer from each will be, "He came to die for us." The child finds his answer on the very surface of Scripture; the aged man finds it in that same Scripture when he has studied it to its very depths. The one quickly learns that this death of Christ was often predicted by Christ Himself, that it holds the most prominent place in each of the four Gospels, that it is constantly referred to in the Epistles, that it is the text of all the preaching of the apostles, and that it is symbolised in both the sacraments, for "we are buried by baptism into His death," and whenever in the Supper we partake of the bread and wine, we "show forth His death till He come." The mature Christian, in his turn, learns to look upon the death of Christ as the centre and the soul of all the great acts of the great work of our redemption, which seem, whether they preceded or followed, to have been done in direct view of it, and in indissoluble connection with it. The incarnation was designed to open up the way for it. "Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, He also Himself likewise took part of the same; that through death He might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil." The resurrection was intended to attest its meaning and its value. For Christ was "delivered for our offences, and was raised again for our justification." The object of the ascension was to secure the precious fruits of it. "For He entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us." The remarkable thing in all this is that in the gospel, the aim of which is to reveal eternal life, the Prince of Life is always offered to us as dying upon the cross. _Death in order to life!_ What can be the meaning and the bearing of a death which God has placed in so exalted a position? We can only get our answer from Scripture; and we can only get it from Scripture as we read in the simple, unsophisticated humility of mind and heart of which Christ Himself and His apostles give us the example. "_Jesus Christ is the propitiation for our sins._" We have sinned against God, and our sins have been so many _offences_ to Him; offences which must be dealt with. Christ averts the penalty from us by taking it to Himself. The Holy One consents to suffer for the sake of the guilty. The apostle who styles Christ as the "Propitiation" has said, in a sentence immediately preceding: "The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin." Almost numberless passages teach the same doctrine. If we were engaged in an exercise of Biblical criticism, we should have to discuss each of these passages minutely in its turn. But the general idea we gather from them is definite and clear. A ransom paid, our sins borne, the wrath of God appeased, an offered sacrifice--all these contain one idea: Jesus Christ freeing us from the desert of our sin by Himself satisfying Divine Justice on our behalf. Hence the two great facts of our religious history. We were under the condemnation of a holy law. He who was "the Life," _for our sake_ endured death that we who deserved death might have life _for His sake_. And God is "faithful and just to forgive us our sins." To a simple-hearted Christian all this is clear. Men may be scandalised at the exchange (as they term it) between justice and sin, between life and death; but Paul knows how to state the matter: "God hath made Him (Christ) to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him." Men may be indignant (as they often profess to be) at the thought of the innocent suffering for the guilty; but Peter does not hesitate to say: "Christ hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God." What is it, moreover, that _connects_ the teaching of the Old Testament with that of the New? The doctrine of sacrifice, as thus explained, is not simply _attested_ by Scripture: it is the _soul_ of it; its bond of unity. The death of Christ is _the_ sacrifice "once offered in the end of the world," in which all the sacrifices of the Old Testament find their common destination; to which they correspond, as the figure to the reality. The cross is the end, the key, the meaning, the value of all of them. Without this we cannot understand them. They were types: the cross is the antitype. What they _represented_, the cross _achieved_. The cross procured the pardon which they proclaimed. And so the cross has always been the symbol of the Christian Church. The Jews understood it, and were scandalised; the Greeks understood it, and sneered. And now what ends does this sacrifice of Propitiation serve? Mainly two, which are inclusive of all the rest. I. It is the fullest revelation of the Divine character. Leaving aside all questions of abstract and technical theology, we observe that it sets before us, in one great act, the righteousness and the mercy of God. The cross proclaims the pardon for which infinite love solicits. _The heart of God yields to itself._ But how can this be? It is because the pardon solicited by love is obtained by a sacrifice which equally exhibits God's righteousness. If we seek the universe through for the greatest proof we can have of the love of God to the sinner, we shall find it in the cross; for we there see not only that God forgives, but also that He is _so resolved_ to forgive that, rather than that the sinner shall be left to perish, the stroke of the offended law shall fall on the willing head and heart and life of "His only begotten and well-beloved Son." On the other hand, if we want to know something of God's abhorrence of sin, we shall find it in the cross; for we there see that, so impossible is it for Him to allow it to go unpunished, that He secures for it a Divine expiation in the willing sacrifice of His Divine Son. "Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other." Most persons can see in the cross a demonstration of Divine love; in the light of Bible teaching, they may also see in it a demonstration of Divine justice more marked and telling than in a closed Eden, in the waters of the Deluge, in the overthrow of the cities of the plain, in the destruction of Jerusalem, or in the punishment of the wicked in eternity. II. If men are to be saved at all, they must be saved _to holiness_; they must be sanctified as well as forgiven. The result cannot be otherwise for those who truly believe in the sacrifice of Christ as thus explained. Holiness and love, the two great elements of the character of God; these are expressed in the cross, and they must be reproduced in the character of those for whom the cross does its appointed work. How can we believe, as the cross teaches us to believe, in God's hatred to sin, without feeling that we must hate it also, and, hating it, must forsake it? And how can we believe, as the cross teaches us to believe, in the love which has obtained our salvation, without giving our own love as a genuine, though feeble, return? Let a man, struggling with the sins which he condemns, but which he cannot shake off, learn that the Son of God came into the world to die for him; and he will find in that revelation a strength for conflict with sin which he never had before. Speak to him of the beauty and dignity of the law, of the righteousness of God's claims, of the penalties of transgression; and, though his conscience may assent to all you say, his heart will not yield. Can he refuse when he sees Jesus on the cross, and knows what, for him, that spectacle means? The cross is an argument presented to his reason, his conscience, his will, his heart, his whole being; nay, it is more than an argument, it is an appeal; and the response must be: "We love Him because He first loved us." "The love of Christ constraineth us; because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead: and that He died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him who died for them, and rose again." And now it only remains to be said that this Propitiation is needed by all, that it is sufficient for all, and that it is free to all. Let all receive it. III. _FAITH IN THE SAVIOUR._ "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."--Acts xvi. 31. A startling providential dispensation was one of the means by which the spiritual nature of this jailer was roused. Only one, effectual so far as it went, but not complete in itself. It was preparatory and auxiliary to the action of the Holy Spirit, the instrument by which the Spirit did His special work of convincing the man of sin. Thus it is that outward events and circumstances are made to co-operate with God in the conversion of a soul. The way in which the Spirit works is a mystery, akin to that in which one human mind acts upon another. But the _means_ of this spiritual action is no mystery. We use speech, external appliances of various kinds; the Divine Spirit does the same. In the case of the jailer he employed the earthquake together with the calm faith, the perfect serenity, of the apostles at a moment which was to himself a moment of terror, and which would also have been a moment of terror to them had they not been the Christians they were. A great joy; a great sorrow, commotion, loss, alarm, the apparent nearness of death; daily mercies, the "means of grace," the Word of God, the ministry of the gospel--through all these the Spirit works. They are powerless in themselves; they can only become mighty as used by Him. It is obvious at a glance that this man's spiritual nature _was_ roused. Spiritual realities burst in upon his mind in all their awful momentousness. His whole soul was suddenly concentrated in a sense of his ruin. Hence the short, sharp question--the question which sprung from an inward agony--"What must I do to be saved?" That question must be answered, if it can be--answered on the instant! There is a tremendous depth of meaning in it. It is as though a lightning flash had in a moment illuminated the man's whole spiritual condition, bringing out every feature of it into startling distinctness. All the fears and the aspirations of his immortal being are here; his past life with all its sin, his remorse, his dread of judgment, his terror in the presence of God--all are here; he feels himself to be a lost man. How can he be saved? In his question there is no hint of self-righteousness or of self-confidence, or even of the remotest hope in himself. He does not ask, like "the young man in the gospel," "What good thing must I do that I may inherit eternal life?" The question of the young man is leisurely; the question of the jailer is hurried, under the feeling that there is not a moment to be lost. Helpless and hopeless, he wants but one thing, and that is to be "saved." Of course his "What must I do?" indicates that he is willing and ready to comply with any possible terms; yet it is not a question of conscious strength--it is rather the question of despair. Such a question shows that a great point--an essential point--had been gained. The gospel is a sovereign remedy designed and constructed to meet a desperate case. Not only do they that are whole stand in no need of a physician, but wherever there lingers an idea of spiritual strength, or a dream, of self-righteousness, the condition necessary for the reception of such a salvation as that which the gospel proclaims is entirely wanting. Christ is an exclusive Saviour, and "looking to Him" is an exclusive hope. "What must I do to be saved?" Clear, quick, unhesitating, comes the answer of Paul: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Both the question and the answer strike the point--the centre of the soul's supreme need, and the centre of the gospel message. This answer of Paul's is not simply his own. It is the answer of God to every man who wants to know how he can be saved. It is the answer of the whole Bible. It is the pre-eminently, distinctively Christian answer. All revelation has one great object--Jesus Christ, promised, announced, expected, seen by faith beforehand; then Jesus Christ actually come, His life told, His mission developed, Himself presented to the world as the one and only Name whereby men can be saved;--always Jesus Christ. Patriarchs and prophets, Moses and David, Christ Himself, His apostles and disciples after Him, the whole Church--all unite to say to the awakened soul: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." But this answer, though not Paul's alone, is nevertheless his in such a sense that an immense weight belongs to it. What does Paul himself understand by it? We know something of his experience, and that will tell us the meaning of these words as spoken by him. He spake that which he knew, and testified that which he had seen. He felt that he could offer to the spiritual need of every man that which had so fully met his own. Read Paul's life. Read his epistles. You see at a glance what Christ was to _him_--a Redeemer. And what to him was the very centre of Christian truth? "Christ crucified." He had been so roused as to see clearly the relation between himself and God. The true sense of sin had been awakened within him. No man had made more strenuous efforts to obtain justification by the works of the law than he had; and no man had more deeply realised his helplessness. How does he describe the struggle? "I had not known sin, but by the law.... When the commandment came, sin revived, and I died.... Sin, taking occasion by the commandment, deceived me, and by it slew me.... That which I do I allow not: for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I.... I know that in me (that is, in my flesh) there dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not. For the good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do.... O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" "I thank God, through Jesus Christ our Lord." We all know how God arrested, overcame, and subdued him, by showing him in that same "Jesus Christ our Lord" the mystery of the Divine love. God taught him that he must no longer expect righteousness and eternal life to come from his own works, to be wrought by his own strength. Eternal life is the free gift of God. Look to the cross! Listen to the Spirit! Learn in "the folly of the cross" to adore the wisdom and the power of God--a forgiveness that glorifies justice as well as mercy; a forgiveness that kills sin as well as removes its penalty; a salvation that harmonises man with God as well as forgives him; a salvation that implies a perfect holiness, the motive being love, and the effectual power being that of the Holy Spirit. Deep as his want had been, it was now completely met by the revelation of the Saviour. To that revelation his response was prompt, complete, irrevocable. He says that it was as though scales had fallen from his eyes, this disclosure of the Divine plan of salvation to his mind. It was full of light, full of mercy. The manifestation of the risen Christ was the instrumentality which enlightened him. He saw straightway the nature and purpose of "the cross," the certainty of justification through faith, the believer's completeness in Christ. "Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us." "There is now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death. For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh: that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit." "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service. And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God." The natural result of these convictions in the apostle's own case was his consecration to the Saviour. Bought with a great price, he felt that he was no longer his own, but that, in life and death, he belonged to Him who had given Himself for him. In Christ he had found peace for his conscience, light for his mind, love for his heart. And what was the secret of it all? Simply "believing in the Lord Jesus Christ." This, then, was Paul's gospel to the jailer, and there is no other gospel to-day. We know that sin incurs condemnation--the displeasure of God. The universal conscience gives testimony to that fact. We know that man cannot, in his own person, satisfy the claims of the Divine law. But there comes down to us the old truth that Christ is "the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world." He "finished the work which His Father gave Him to do," and the whole benefit of that work is given to faith. It is in the name of this perfect system of truth--which, observe, is a perfect series of facts--consecrated by the trial of ages, by the experience of an incalculable number of souls in all times, places, and conditions, and by the world's own verdict on Christian character wherever it is found--that we speak to you with a confidence equal to that with which Paul spoke to the jailer. And let me add that we so speak because we have made the experience of it our own, and that it is as sure in our hearts as our very existence. Yes, a perfect series of facts as well as a perfect system of truth. Men sometimes object that we put before them hard and abstruse systems of theology, and that we condemn them for not believing things which they cannot understand. There is no need to do anything of the kind, and when it is done a grave mistake is committed. I preach no "abstractions" to you when I urge you to faith in Christ for salvation. I deal with facts and their deductions--deductions which are as inevitable as the facts are real--deductions which follow the facts as the shadow follows the substance. Deny the deductions? You must first deny the facts. The jailer, poor man, was no theologian, and Paul did not perplex and mystify him. He placed the person of Christ immediately before the soul. Faith in a person; that is _first_--not faith in a creed. A creed will follow; for there cannot be faith without thought, and thought always strives to formulate itself. But, blessed be God, millions have been saved with next to no "theology." Having Christ for its object, and salvation for its aim, faith reposes in the facts of His mission and work; but as He is a living Christ, it emphatically reposes in _Him_. This is the commonest form of the believer's experience. In our social life we know what faith in a person means. We confide in known goodness; and therefore we believe words, promises, acts, and we do so because we trust _him_ from whom they come. This is the last and most perfect stage of the faith men place in one another, and it includes a confidence which is not impaired by what, in the person who is trusted, seems startling, unexpected, mysterious, contradictory, inexplicable. Just so with the gospel. It meets our needs by telling us what God has done for us in Christ. We believe the record which fits our want, and we put our trust in the Saviour. Confiding in Him, we can accept such mysteries as we may discern in His dealings, and faith in a holy and loving Saviour is henceforth the true rest of life, and the true foretaste of heaven. Such being the nature of faith unto salvation, we see how it contrasts (1) with indifference. Indifference is commonly supposed to be a mental state, in which a man neither believes nor disbelieves; whereas it is really a state of spiritual deadness. (2) With mere opinion, which is nothing more than an inclination in favour of, or against, a thing, and not an earnest practical conviction about it. (3) With presumption, which is a prepossession with no sufficient basis of evidence. It may, perhaps, be said that, in this representation of faith in Christ as the one all-comprehensive condition of salvation, we have left no room for penitence, holiness, devotedness. But think again for a moment. Were not all these in this man? Did not his conduct to the apostles show, so far as the opportunity was given him, the fruits of faith in the various ways of grateful love? Faith is the starting-point; but when we are told to "believe in Christ" an appeal is made to us in response to which there is a whole career to be filled up. Faith, like everything else in life, has its beginning, and its development is progressive. It means thought, and thought means contrition, gratitude, and a glad and loving obedience. It requires time, but we have eternity before us. In some, the result of years is accomplished in a day. Simple-hearted men generally receive by a sort of intuition what others take a long period to elaborate. The one thing essential to all is that they be faithful to the light and the love they have received. "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ." We do not call you to a learned and critical study. The life and teachings and redeeming work of the Saviour are put before us with a simplicity that brings them within the reach of a peasant or a child. Attention, earnestness, sincerity, prayer, will do all that is needed. Seek the faith that will make Christ yours. Do you not already, under the gracious influence of the Holy Spirit, feel your need of Him? Oh, whilst mercy calls, and the throne of grace is accessible, pray and yield! Ye that in these courts are found Listening to the joyful sound, Lost and helpless as you are, Sons of sorrow, sin, and care, Glorify the King of kings! Take the peace the gospel brings. Turn to Christ with longing eyes, View His bleeding sacrifice. See through Him your sins forgiven, Pardon, holiness, and heaven. Glorify the King of kings! Take the peace the gospel brings. IV. _SINCERITY OF HEART NECESSARY TO THE UNDERSTANDING OF THE GOSPEL._ "If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself."--John vii. 17. The Jews, marvelling at Christ's teaching in the temple, exclaim, "How knoweth this man letters, having never learned?" They do not mean to ask whether Christ is competent to teach, for they _see_ that he is so clearly enough; but they thus express their astonishment at the authority and the ability with which He deals with the Scriptures, considering that He has never received the instruction of the Schools. In His reply, Jesus fully enters into the thought of His questioners. That thought is this: "In order to teach, one must have been taught." He intimates to them that He meets this requirement. As though He had said: "It is true that I have not been in the schools of your Rabbis, but I have been taught in a better school than theirs. He who has given me my mission, has also given me my message. So that my teaching does not proceed originally from myself. I have only to lay hold of my Father's thought, and then to reproduce it faithfully to you." But how is this to be verified? The answer to this question is found in the text: "If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself." Christ's teaching, in its highest aim, is a Divine method of sanctification. Whoever, then, earnestly seeks to "do the will of God"--that is, to be holy--will soon recognise the Divine adaptability of the gospel to its end. The meaning of the verse is the same as in chapter v. and verse 46: "For had ye believed Moses, ye would have believed me;" and also in chapter iii. and verse 21: "He that doeth truth cometh to the light." On the one hand, the holy sublimity of the gospel flashes irresistibly on the soul that longs for holiness; on the other hand, the soul, in its inability to attain its ideal, seeks peace and strength at the hands of the Saviour. Faith, therefore, is not the result of a logical operation; it appears to the soul as the best means of realising the satisfaction of its deepest want--holiness. The word "will" points to the loftiness of the aspiration and to the earnestness of the effort. Our Lord's words, then, mean this, that if any man be supremely anxious to do the right, he will find in Scripture sufficient proof of its divinity, and, as a consequence, of its adaptability to the soul's deepest need. Christ was dealing with men who were disposed to cavil about His authority and about the truth which He taught. These men were acquainted with the Mosaic law, which enjoined not only purity of life, but also purity of heart. It was a law therefore which, if honestly studied, must lead to those convictions which would enable them to see the necessity and the wisdom of the gospel which Christ was preaching. And so He lays down the principle that sincerity in regard to the _known_ law of God determines the real position of the mind _towards_ God, and prepares it for deeper and still deeper penetration into all necessary spiritual knowledge. On the contrary, he who is insincere, and does not practise what he knows, but endeavours to evade it by sophistry, blinds himself until even the brightest light can be of no service to him. This was the case with the majority of the Pharisees with whom Christ had to do. This passage is therefore of the highest practical importance, since it teaches that man's capacity for spiritual knowledge is dependent upon his inclination. If the will be opposed to God, the understanding becomes clouded; if it be inclined towards God, the ability to know increases. That the inclination is the door to the intellect is a fact universally recognised. It is expressed in the proverb: "None are so blind as those who will not see." In every department of learning, a man, in order to attainment, _must make up his mind to it_. For good or ill, the will is a quickening power. It would be interesting and instructive to discuss this question in connection with religious error, both in and out of the professing Christian Church. My present purpose, however, is a more simple and elementary one--namely, to indicate the bearing of the question upon man's reception of the gospel for his salvation. I say, then, that honesty, sincerity, integrity of heart is the required and indispensable condition for perceiving and feeling the divinity and suitability of the gospel; and that even an ignorant man, if he be but sincere, and devoutly anxious to know the will of God, that he may do it, may discover in the Bible those traces of moral beauty and of Divine truth which a learned but unconscientious man will almost certainly fail to find therein. Sincerity of heart--this is the wisest, most natural, and most comprehensive means of access to the inner spirit of that gospel which is the power of God unto salvation. A few remarks in proof of this. I. Suppose the gospel to be so manifestly filled with the proofs of its divinity that all hearts, even the most obdurate, could not refrain from yielding to its claims. Suppose it to be _self-evidencing_, in the same way and to the same extent, as the sun is self-evidencing by its shining, or fire by its known power to burn. In this case, no moral or intellectual disposition would be necessary in order to its reception. It could no more be denied than the light of the sun, or the consuming power of fire. But what, with such a gospel, would be man's position? Forced to assent to an imperious obligation, he would be, in relation to the gospel and to the salvation provided in it, nothing more than a machine, acting under the impulse of an irresistible necessity. There could, under these circumstances, be neither praise nor blame attached to him. He could no longer be accounted a moral agent--could not be regarded as free, inasmuch as it would not be possible for him to choose error or evil without obvious and startling folly. He could no longer be responsible, because he would have to yield to a necessity. There could be no free thought in his creed, no free love in his heart, and consequently no virtue in his life. II. Since, then, some disposition is necessary in order to a man's coming to the gospel, suppose that God had imposed an _intellectual_ qualification--such, for instance, as is required for the learning of art or of science, or for the understanding of any difficult problem in philosophy. Observe what in that case must follow. If, to discover the truth necessary to salvation, a large measure of natural genius or of accumulated knowledge be required, we must consider as excluded from salvation the immense majority of the human race! Men cannot in any large numbers abandon the common, legitimate, indispensable pursuits of secular life in order to become students of theology. Such an arrangement would shut out from heaven all who have neither time, nor fortune, nor energy of intellect sufficient to enable them to follow our profounder investigations. The poor man for want of means, the sick man for want of strength, the old man for want of time--all, being unable to explore and to make their own the prescribed science, would be lost! The fearfulness of the consequences shows how false the supposed principle must be. III. Take another supposition; viz., that, in order to a man's being convinced of the truth of the gospel, he should be required to purify his heart from all evil, so that with a clear moral vision he should be able to see the beauties which have been obscured by his sinful passions. Doubtless this means of appreciating Christianity would be efficacious, were it practicable. But it is not so; for evidently the _knowledge_ of the truth must precede the _practice_ of the truth. A creature without wings might as well be told that he should go to heaven on condition that he would fly thither! IV. See now, not what _our_ plans might be, but what _God's_ plan is. He does not influence man so as to degrade him into a machine: He simply and uniformly demands the worship and the service of willing hearts. He does not require of him the genius or the learning which is the privilege of only a few. He does not ask in advance the goodness which is impossible as a spontaneous production of his degenerate nature. He just requires of all that which they can give, if they will--viz., simple, devout honesty of purpose. Christ's words are not, "If any man _does_;" but, "If any man will do"--_desires_ to do--is supremely _anxious_ to do--_wills_ to do--"the will of God he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God." Who, then, has a right to complain? Who cannot be sincere? Who is unable to set before himself the purpose of living up to the light he has in order that he may be in the surest position for receiving more? Who will say, "This condition is too hard?" Observe, then, how your case stands. Are you, or are you not, anxious to please God in any way which He may appoint and reveal to you? If you are not, His gospel must be a sealed and unmeaning book to you. Your mind is not open to the faith which unites the soul to the Saviour. You are altogether destitute of the motive which would lead you to the cross. But if you are, what then? You must see at once that you are sinners, that you are guilty, and that you are hopeless. In the light of these convictions, look at the gospel. It tells you of the Divine Saviour who died for you and who rose again, who paid your debt, who took to Himself your penalty, and who has therefore done all that was necessary to set you free. To meet your helplessness, He only asks for your faith, and offers to you the quickening and guiding and upholding influences of His Holy Spirit. V. _THE HUMBLE TAUGHT THE LORD'S WAY._ "The meek will He teach His way."--Psalm xxv. 9. Instead of "meek" read "humble," and then connect the verse with the preceding, so as to see who and what are the persons to whom the Psalmist refers. The righteous Lord will teach sinners His way; but the sinners, in order to be thus divinely taught, must be humble. Probably this text of Scripture does not seem at first sight to be very promising to some of you. If so, the reason probably is that one at least of the subjects it brings to our notice is not a favourite or inspiring one. Men are comparatively little attracted by the more quiet and passive virtues of life, and among these the virtue of humility is one of the least popular. The truth is that we are still under the influence of Pagan notions about it. The philosophers of the past never understood it. To them it was a mean and despicable thing--the evidence of weakness and poverty of soul, the necessary virtue of the enslaved and the helpless. This notion exists now. The world has far more respect for the self-confident, the noisy, the bombastic, than for the humble. Of course the world's ideas of humility are at fault, and have need to be corrected. We cannot enter upon that task now, except incidentally and very partially. One thing only let me say--namely, that Christianity has transformed and ennobled the despised word by giving us the thing itself. The life of Christ comprises the perfection of humility as well as of every other virtue. In Him we see that humility makes no man contemptible. He was no less a king because He was a servant. And the virtue that was perfect in Him is one of the essential qualities of the Christian character--one of the essential elements of the Christian life, whether in its high enjoyments or in its high achievements. The words before us present this virtue of humility under one special aspect. Man has something to learn, and God has something to teach; and humility is _teachableness_. Christianity demands of its disciples that disposition of heart which is the indispensable condition of all learning whatsoever. No more objection can be urged against Christianity for this, than against any art or science or philosophy which men seek to acquire. All these might say to their disciples, "Unless you give up your prejudice, your conceit, your self-will, your presumption, you have no business here; we have nothing to teach you." And so, "poverty of spirit," as Christ intimates in the "Beatitudes," is the strait gate into "the kingdom of God." It is only as respects religion that this principle is seriously misunderstood, and a little reflection will show why it is that outside Christianity humility is misapprehended. Humility is the result of self-knowledge, and this cannot be obtained until man has learned to know himself in the light of God's wisdom and holiness. So long as he compares himself with his fellow-creatures around him, it may seem to him that there is no necessity for such an element of character as this. Nor is it in this way that the virtue is commended and enforced. Whilst the standard of excellence remains merely human, it is quite clear that a man may say, "I am as good as my neighbours; at least, I am no worse." But put before him a holy God and a holy law! In this new light all becomes changed. Apart from that revelation, many flatter themselves that they have lived respectably. They are not conscious of any serious defection in the common, every-day duties of life. Let the great revelation come to them, and they must make wonderful self-discoveries. How many forgotten sins are then brought to mind! How many secret sins are then brought to light! How many temptations have been yielded to for convenience' sake! How much coldness and indifference towards the right, the true, and the good! How much selfishness! How much cowardice! How many meannesses! How many secret and contemptible dishonesties! What culpable ignorance of God! What rebellion against His known will! Is not all this enough to humble a man? Where is the man amongst us who would not rather die than have all his sins brought to light before his fellow-men? Thus, to make us humble, God teaches us, first of all, truly to know ourselves. This is that "conviction of sin" which is wrought by His Holy Spirit. God teaches us this in His law, but chiefly by the life of Christ His Son. Who can remain proud when he compares his own life with that? Before men we may, perhaps, hold our own; but before Him there is nothing left for us but self-abasement. In presence of such a conviction as this, it is vain for the world to flatter a man, for he has learnt his own misery. He wants to know the truth, for it is only the truth that can save. He knows too much of himself to accept any teaching that would exalt _man_, for he could not accept that without dishonouring God. He wants a frank, firm voice that will trouble him, and to which his conscience will respond. The first question for us is: Have we so learnt to know ourselves, or do we obstinately shut our eyes against God's light? Such a knowledge of sin brings with it a sense of deserved condemnation. And here God comes in to teach us humility in another way. He shows us His love in Christ. It is not possible that a sinner who has come to the knowledge of himself should discover that he is the object of a love on the part of God such as that which the gospel reveals without being overwhelmed. Show to man a God who judges and condemns, and the sinner must shrink from before Him under the sense of a deserved doom; but show to him a God who comes to him graciously, who loves him, who has provided redemption for him, and who is waiting to receive and to help him, and all the pride of his heart at once breaks down. The prodigal son was most humble when he received his father's kiss of welcome. How can we be proud when we know that God has loved us, and that Christ has died for us? Unbelievers sometimes call the Christian's faith presumption; we know, on the contrary, that the feeling produced is as unlike presumption as it can be. The very faith which accepts the gospel has its root in lowliness of mind. Pride would reject it. And it is at the foot of the cross that humility grows. If not there, then nowhere. Thus we see that all our Christian life, in one aspect of it, is a growth in humility. This beautiful virtue affects our whole being, rescuing for God all that has been usurped by sin. _Our reason must be humble._ We are living in an age of criticism and discussion; and, both in the Church and out of it, human thought is prone to pride and self-sufficiency. There is work, of course, for thought to do, and we must do it; for thought is God's gift. But it can only be done aright as it is done in humility. We must never touch religious questions with profane hands. Let us rather remember that all our researches into truth should be conducted with a view the better to adore and to obey. We should examine truth only with a desire to perceive, acknowledge, and reverence it. Our Lord teaches us that the gospel both enlightens and blinds. "For judgment I am come into this world, that they who see not might see, and that they who see might be made blind." The first part of this great statement is easily understood; it is the second which startles. But why so? Is it not like Simeon's prediction that Christ would be for the "fall" as well as for the "rising" of many? Is it not like what Paul said of the gospel, that it is a "savour" both of "life unto life" and of "death unto death"? So long as the gospel is not preached in a church or a house, all is quiet--with the quietness of death! As soon as it is preached, some accept it, and say that they have passed from darkness to light; others reject it, and are made angry by its teaching and its claims. If these latter were quiet, we might suppose the gospel to be without effect upon them; but they show that, by hardening themselves against it, they are becoming blinder than ever. Recall other words which point to the same result--words spoken by our Lord: "I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. Even so, Father: for so it seemed good in Thy sight." This should be a joyful truth to us, for Jesus had joy in declaring it. Wherein is its worth? The "things" of which He speaks are the doctrines of salvation. "The wise and prudent" are self-satisfied men who think that they can comprehend all religious truth by their own reason alone. The "babes" are humble souls, who, in the consciousness of their ignorance and weakness, look to God for wisdom. Thus Christ says that Divine teaching is necessary for the understanding of gospel truth, and this fact humility alone enables us to feel. Man's intelligence can do many wonderful things, but God Himself must come to our help if we are ever to know the things that pertain to our salvation. Our reason must bow to Him. _The heart must be humble._ We may profess entire mental submission to God, and yet be under the influence of pride. There is a humility which is spurious as well as a humility which is real. It is possible, and not very uncommon, for a man to cherish a false consciousness of merit even in the disbelief and denial of merit! If a man is proud who puts confidence in his self-righteousness, so also is he who puts confidence in his intellectual orthodoxy. _Our conduct must be humble._ This grace of humility must not only dwell in the inner spirit, but be manifested in our outer life. It is vain to come to the cross with the offer of a bending reason, a subdued will, and a broken heart, and then go out into the world intent on the accomplishment of our own purposes. If we are truly humble, we shall be _seen_ to be so in the way in which we accept the teachings of events; in our reverent waiting for the signs of the Divine will; in the faithful, unreluctant fulfilment of the humblest duties; in our resignation to, and our acquiescence in, the trials and afflictive dispensations which come upon us. We often see this grace in its greatest beauty at the close of the most eminent lives. God's most gifted men, as a rule, advance in humility as they grow in experience. They are like boughs that bend the lower the more fruit they bear. Like John the Baptist, they say, "He must increase, but I must decrease." This, then, is the _disposition_, and to it God makes a great _promise_. He will _teach His way_ to the humble. This applies _To our knowledge of Divine truth._ How uniformly have God's truest witnesses upon earth consisted of men conspicuous for their lowliness of mind. It was to such that the Saviour was first announced and that He first came. Such were the people who listened to Him and accepted Him, whilst the "learned" and the "great" rejected Him. His apostles were humble men; and it has always been by the humble that the strong and the proud have, in the end, been vanquished. Every bright page in the history of the Church is a commentary on our text. To-day, in spite of the progress of thought in our world, we, in regard to the matters that belong to our spiritual life and salvation, have to sit as disciples at the feet of the humble men who themselves sat at the feet of the Divine Teacher who said, "Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls." Our views of the truth as it is in Jesus may be modified and corrected; yet the pages of these same humble men are still the standard of our faith and of our teaching. Religious opinions change, not because we have gone beyond Paul and Peter and John, but because we understand them better. This is no plea, no apology, for mental weakness. On the contrary, pride is rather the characteristic of mental weakness and of ignorance than of mental strength and enlightenment. We may search, but we must remember that we always depend upon God for light. In religion the condition of the heart is the condition of knowledge. Proud, haughty, self-sufficient Saul of Tarsus had to be humbled before he could become Paul the Believer and the Apostle. _To the every-day dispensations of life._ In this world we are the subjects of God's discipline, and that discipline is for the most part mysterious. The course of events with us is often varied. We are subjected to vicissitudes of every kind--vicissitudes of thought, of impression, of feeling, and of experience. We are troubled in life, in heart, in the cultivation of Christian excellence, in the maintenance of life's relationships, in the performance of duty. Whilst we try to bear in mind the glorious issues to which we are destined, we are often perplexed in our endeavours to ascertain how the discipline we are undergoing tends towards their realisation. We are puzzled by the prevalence of wickedness, by the disappointment of hopes, the apparent futility of many of our prayers; and we say, "I am blind, and the way in which I am walking is unknown to me." Humility will help us to think that God has _His own way_ among all these perplexities of ours, though we are unable to trace it. "All things work together for good to them that love God." God works not as man works, nor sees As man sees, though we mark Ofttimes the moving of His hands Beneath the eternal Dark. * * * * And He who made both life and death, He knoweth which is best. We live to Him, we die to Him, And leave Him all the rest. Thus the humble are taught trust, patience, resignation, obedience, peace of heart, and daily advancement in sanctification. _To our bearing towards others._ Humility will qualify us cordially to recognise whatever worth they have, to show gentleness and charity to those among them who are faulty and weak, and thus will take us along a line of conduct which will lead to the strengthening of the bonds of brotherhood. "Likewise, ye younger, submit yourselves unto the elder. Yea, all of you be subject one to another, and be clothed with humility: for God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble." The word here rendered "Be clothed" occurs nowhere else in Scripture. It is borrowed from a piece of dress worn by servants when they were doing menial offices, which at once intimated their station, and fitted them for the performance of the duties attached to it. Remember that it is Peter who gives this advice--the Peter who in former days so often brought himself into trouble by his want of humility. Notice, too, the special point he now has in view. He is pleading for harmonious action in the Church, a result which can only be obtained by observing the law of voluntary subordination to established authority--an observance to which the habit of humility will most effectually contribute. Humility is one of the chief social and ecclesiastical virtues, through the medium of which God teaches us what is the attitude we are to maintain towards those who are around us. _To our Christian work._ All the heroes of the faith in past times avowed their personal infirmities. Moses, David, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Peter, Paul--each, in one form or another, confessed: "When I am weak, then am I strong; I can do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me. I glory in mine infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." We must lay hold of this thought, for it alone can guard us against discouragement. As long as we depend on ourselves, God will break down our confidence by repeated failures; but when His wisdom has humbled us, His mercy will lift us up. Why should it not be so? We may well be humble in our work when we remember how far we are from being indispensable to God. He can work either with us or without us, as He pleases. It is His own order to achieve mighty moral results through the humblest instrumentalities; and frequently His independence of us is taught in a very striking way--as, for example, when He calls to Himself some great preacher, or some man who is doing wide-spread good, in the midst of his activity and his usefulness. Besides, we have no monopoly of any one gift of the Christian life--either as regards the gift itself or as regards the quality and extent of the service which it can be made to render. Others excel us in the very thing of which we are most proud. Many of our fellow Christians are doing the same kind of works as ourselves, only far better. And as to our "gifts," let us not forget that they _are_ gifts. We have "received" them; and why, then, should we boast as if we had not received them, but were ourselves the creators of them? Moreover, in proportion to our gifts, so is our responsibility, and "to whom much is given, of him shall much be required." Have we used such gifts as we have as nobly as we might? Have we fallen into no needless errors, no selfishness, no half-heartedness? So then, while everything calls us to duty, there is much to fill us with contrition; and mingling fidelity and humility together, our exclusive confidence must be in God. This is the Divine way which the Divine Teacher teaches to the humble. _The Lord's way._ This is a beautiful and lovable expression. It links earth with heaven. There _is_ a way which leads to God; a way in which God walks with us, and we with Him; a way that is peaceful here, while it leads to the land of rest above. We begin it in humility, confessing our sins at the cross, and accepting God's mercy there. We end it before the throne, casting our crowns at the feet of Him who died to save us. Hark! universal nature shook and groan'd, 'Twas the last trumpet--see the Judge enthroned: Rouse all your courage at your utmost need, Now summon every virtue, stand and plead. What! silent? Is your boasting heard no more? That self-renouncing wisdom, learn'd before, Had shed immortal glories on your brow, That all your virtues cannot purchase now. All joy to the believer! He can speak, Trembling yet happy, confident yet meek. Since the dear hour that brought me to Thy foot, And cut up all my follies by the root, I never trusted in an arm but Thine, Nor hoped but in Thy righteousness divine: My prayers and alms, imperfect and defiled, Were but the feeble efforts of a child; Howe'er perform'd, it was their brightest part, That they proceeded from a grateful heart: Cleansed in Thine own all purifying blood, Forgive their evil, and accept their good: I cast them at Thy feet, my only plea Is what it was, dependence upon Thee: While struggling in the vale of tears below, That never failed, nor shall it fail me now. Angelic gratulations rend the skies, Pride falls unpitied never more to rise, Humility is crown'd, and Faith receives the prize. VI. _THE GRATITUDE OF THE PARDONED._ "Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little."--Luke vii. 47. It has been observed that the Bible records with great minuteness events which a secular historian would deem beneath his notice, whilst, on the other hand, matters of great secular importance are passed over unmentioned. What ordinary historian would think of narrating such a story as the one we have in the verses before us? The Bible records it because it is a history of souls. To a Bible historian, the conversion of a soul is an event of unique sublimity, and everything that can illustrate it is felt to be a source of deepest interest. The history of outward events will pass into oblivion; the history of souls will be read in eternity. The narrative before us is one of the most beautiful and touching in the gospel record. It was a saying of Gregory the Great: "Whenever I think of this story I am more inclined to weep over it than to preach upon it." It is just the tale to prompt deep, quiet feeling rather than elaborate disquisition. It contains an illustration in real life of the old promise: "A bruised reed shall He not break, and the smoking flax shall He not quench." It declares the Saviour's matchless sympathy for the sinner, and the most broken-hearted sinner's hope in Him. It teaches these lessons for all time, since in Christ and in His system of Redemption there can be no change. Let us look at the narrative somewhat closely, and may God help us to see in it Christ as the refuge of the lost, and the thankfulness to Him which must possess the soul whom He has saved. When we have said all we can, there will yet remain much more to be felt. Before I proceed, however, let me say that this narrative must not be confounded with another which is in many respects like it, and which has been told by the other evangelists. In both cases, the name of the host is Simon, and in both a woman anoints the Lord Jesus, and wipes His feet with her hair. But the differences are numerous. In this case, the host is a Pharisee living in Galilee, and he looks on Christ with mistrust; in the other case, the host is a healed leper in Judea, bound to Christ by grateful love. In this case, the anointing proceeds from personal and grateful love, and has no other specialty of motive; in the other case, Jesus says: "Let her alone; against the day of my burying hath she kept this." Here, Jesus is blamed by the Pharisee; there, the woman is blamed by the disciples. Pride is the root of Simon's objection; the objection of the disciples springs from selfishness. Here a sinner is pardoned; there a disciple is honoured. Here, in all probability, the woman was Mary Magdalene; there, the woman was the sister of Lazarus. We have no information as to the reason which induced this Pharisee to invite Christ to his house. The verse I have read as a text may obscurely hint to us, perhaps, that he himself had come under some obligation to Jesus, and not feeling any true gratitude, he thought he might acquit himself of his obligation by a compliment of this kind! Or the invitation may have sprung from curiosity, or from vanity, or from ambition. Possibly he may have wished to play the _patron_. Anyhow, we have no sign that he was urged by spiritual considerations. Many men come--if one might so say--_locally_ near to Christ, who have no faith in Him, and no love for Him. Neither have we any information as to the reason or reasons which induced Christ to accept this invitation. Several reasons might be imagined. He may have hoped, as the opportunity was specially favourable, to bring a blessing to the Pharisee's heart. Men are never more open, or more submissive, or more susceptible to the word of love, than when they themselves are showing kindness in the form of the hospitalities of home and of the family circle. Perhaps, too, He may have felt that to decline the invitation would be to lay Himself open to an accusation on the part of the Pharisees that He neglected or spurned them, whilst He could put Himself in close communication with "publicans and sinners." At any rate, we have here a beautiful instance of the self-denial of His love. He knew what awaited Him, and yet He went. And now we have to notice that when Jesus had passed over the threshold of the Pharisee's house the door was open to "a woman who was a sinner." How was this? The simple and sufficient answer is that Jesus was there. Otherwise she would not have dared to enter within the perfumed respectability and sanctity of such a place. That would have been a terror to such a fallen one as she. But redeeming love had already begun its work upon her heart, so that she could come without misgiving, could enter with a holy confidence. When Christ appears, grace bears the sceptre, and the law loses its power to alarm. We may take this incident, therefore, as a striking illustration of the spirit of Christ and of His true followers, as contrasted with Pharisaism in its suspiciousness, its blindness, its narrowness, and its ascetic scrupulosity. The woman, probably under the pressure of gratitude for some act of compassionate love already received from Christ, is full of the holiest and tenderest emotions. In a fine, sacred humility, she weeps, and washes His feet with her tears. True tears they are, for they are the tears of penitence--and not of penitence only, but of thankfulness also. Confused and bewildered, perhaps, she wipes the feet on which they have fallen with her hair, and then kisses them, and anoints them with costly ointment! Such is the gratitude of the pardoned--deep, strong, irrepressible. And she expresses it in touchingly significant ways. The woman's action was distasteful to the Pharisee. The touch of a Gentile, or of a notoriously wicked person, was supposed to leave pollution behind it, and therefore by the Pharisees it was scrupulously avoided. Thus Simon had no understanding whatever of the scene before him. He had no eyes to see, no ears to hear, how the angels were filling heaven with the music of their joy over this poor sinner who had repented. A weak human virtue might be contaminated by contact with such an one as she had been; but not His who was the Christ of God. No doubt, apart from the sanctifying influences of the Holy Spirit, apart from the strength which God imparts to the soul by His grace, a man does run the risk of polluting his morality by allowing it to be touched by the impure streams of his fellow-creatures' vices. This has always been so fully recognised that we have a whole system of proverbial philosophy on the point. Christ, however, was perfect, and His purity was such that it could not incur this danger. Outward contact with "sinners" could bring no contamination to Him. Simon took offence at the conduct of the woman, and began at once to indulge in dark, though unspoken, suspicions against Christ for permitting it. His suspicion took this form: "This man professes to be a prophet, and is regarded as a prophet by His followers. But surely, if He were a prophet, He would have known this woman's character, and would have repelled her from Him, instead of permitting such demonstrations of affection as these." Simon's notion of a "prophet" was that he must possess at least two qualifications. (1) He must have a knowledge of the characters of the persons with whom He has to deal. On behalf of merely ordinary, human prophets, this was an exaggerated claim. To what prophet could Simon point who was able to read the heart? How did he know that Christ had ever seen this woman before? And on the supposition that He had not, on what ground could Simon demand that, in order to be entitled to the designation of a prophet, He should show an insight into her character at the commencement of the very first interview. Christ had the insight; but Simon felt constrained to doubt it for no other reason than that He did not instantly repel the woman from Him. (2) And so, in Simon's judgment, the second qualification of a "prophet" consisted in such a moral exclusiveness as would forbid contact with sinners. He thought that, if Christ did know what manner of woman this was, His tolerance of her conduct at this time was sufficient proof that He could not be a good man, and was not, therefore, to be regarded as a prophet. A prophet's sanctity would have forbidden such a scene as this. But again we ask, Whence could such a notion have sprung? Who among the "prophets" ever stood aloof from sinners? Was it not emphatically to sinners that they were sent? Simon's reasoning was full of sophistry, and the sophistry came from a defective heart. Had he known the nature of the Saviour's mission--as one which demanded a perfect knowledge of all hearts, combined with grace, love, and power to save the worst--he might perhaps have felt and reasoned differently. His thoughts were unspoken, but Christ divined them, and proceeded to deal with them. To the personal imputation He made no reply. It was a little thing to Him to be judged by man. It was sufficient for Him to aim at two points. One was to vindicate the woman on well-known principles, and the other, to lead the Pharisee to self-examination. With these two objects in view, He utters a parable, and applies it to the case in hand. The parable and its application are both marked by a mingled faithfulness and love. He makes Simon himself to be the judge in the case He describes, and on the basis of Simon's own judgment He brings the practical point right home to the proud heart of the man. By a few sharp and striking contrasts, He shows that the woman, sinful as she has been, has manifested more love to Him than Simon Himself whose guest He is! Though a discredited stranger, she has done for Him what Simon, His host, had failed to do. "Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee." "Master, say on." "There was a certain creditor, who had two debtors: the one owed him five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most?" "I suppose, he to whom he forgave most." "Thou hast rightly judged. Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house; thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little." Having said this, Christ crowns His work of love by saying to the woman, "Thy sins are forgiven." Now in all this we have an explanation and a vindication of the grateful love to Christ which fills and animates the pardoned soul. This love is shown to us-- I. _In its source._ The grace of Christ in forgiving sins. Grace! How great! since it forgives all equally; the debtor who owes five hundred pence as well and as completely as the one who owes fifty--greater sinners and lesser sinners alike! For sinners of every grade there is but one relief, and that is Divine mercy--needed by those who have sinned least as well as by those who have sinned most, and equally sufficing for both. Grace! How free! since it forgives where no satisfaction can be made. "Nothing to pay;" such is the condition of every sinner before God. "Without money and without price;" such is God's gracious invitation. II. _In its law._ It is in the nature of things that love should beget love, and that the love thus originated should be measured by the extent of the favour which has been shown. "We love Him, because He first loved us." Hence, love does not precede pardon, but is the fruit of it, and is proportioned to the sense of obligation. This doctrine, clear as it is, is not apprehended by all, and is even contradicted by some. The inveterate spirit of self-righteousness has made men say: "See this woman. By loving much she obtains the forgiveness of many sins." This is palpably the reverse of _Christ's_ teaching in this case. Love to God can never be the growth of unrenewed and unforgiven hearts. "To whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little." This shows the true order: forgiveness and then love. So that love is no plea for pardon; Christ does not say, "Thy love hath saved thee," but "thy faith." I love the Lord. He lent an ear When I for help implored; He rescued me from all my fear; Therefore I love the Lord. III. _In its character._ It is an all-absorbing feeling, which prompts the offering of the best gifts to the Saviour, and which fills such offerings with the spirit of devoutness, humility, and self-denial. Two closing thoughts. 1. Men may be very near to the source of salvation and eternal life, without coming into the realisation of these blessings. In the outward sense, Christ was very near to this Pharisee and to his friends; but they did not perceive His spiritual power. They thought He was only a man like unto themselves; possibly, perhaps, on a somewhat higher plane of manhood, though many of them do not seem to have given Him credit even for that. His forgiveness was announced to this poor sinful, but contrite woman in their hearing; but the best effect it had upon them was to fill them with a dubious wonder, and to set them on questioning His authority. Near as they were to Him, they failed to see in Him, what "the woman who was a sinner" saw. Such is the position, practically, of multitudes to-day. Not, indeed, that their nearness to Christ is a local nearness, as in the case of those who were immediately around Him in the days of His flesh. They could look upon His outward form, could literally hear His voice. Not so now. But there is another nearness to Him which is moral and spiritual. We have His Word--the record of His life, the Divine repository of His teaching. We have the ordinances of His worship--ordinances by which His Word is brought more home to our understandings and hearts. We have the influences of His truth shed over all the scenes in which we move. The surface influences of Christianity modify and, to some extent, mould the whole of our social life. Moreover, Scripture takes account of the differences in human character. This woman, who was a sinner, and this Pharisee were not alike in their relation to Christ. There was one to whom He said, "Thou art not far from the kingdom of God." Not far from it, and yet not in it. Are there no such cases now? All are sinners; but depravity is developed in much grosser forms in some than in others; and religious influences, which fall short of effecting a complete conversion, nevertheless often deter men from plunging into extreme vice. It is mournfully possible to be near to Christ, and yet not to come into the enjoyment of His salvation. 2. On the other hand, there are instances in which people obtain salvation who seem, as to character, farthest away from it. The case of this sinful woman is an illustration in point. We have no right to mitigate or to extenuate her guilt. Let it be recognised in all its dark completeness. As an actual sinner she had sunk very low. Her sin was against nature's purest laws, and was of the kind that soon and effectually kills shame--one of the most fatal forms of sin, and declared to be such, not only by God's law, but by the common consent of the universal conscience of the civilised world; a sin committed against the strongest restraints--the restraints of sacred womanhood; perhaps against the memory of the holy associations of childhood, a father's tenderness, a mother's love, and all the joy of a happy home. Such was this woman--"a bruised reed." But she was brought to tears under a sense of Paradise lost, the tears of despair; and yet again to tears of joy under the sense of Paradise regained. How many more--far off as she--have been made nigh; treated by fellow sinners as the offscouring of the earth, yet drawn to the Saviour. They are brought to the cross; they repent, believe, are sanctified, and exult in the consciousness of eternal life. Constrained by the mercies of God, they yield themselves a living sacrifice to Him. The whole scene before us is one of the boldest triumphs of reconciliation and love, in contrast with Pharisaic suspicion and unforgivingness; and it supplies the fullest inspiration for the largest hope. May we all come to Christ as this woman did, and hear, as she heard, His gentle "Go in peace!" VII. _CONSECRATION._ "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service. And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God."--Romans xii. 1, 2. In bringing this passage before you, I have to dwell specifically on the motives to self-consecration to God, and to what is involved therein; and I do so with the twofold object of reconsidering the sources of our Christian hope and strength, and the incentives to our growth in the Divine life. The apostle commences his appeal with the word "therefore." This is a logical term, leading to a conclusion from premises which have been previously stated. It does not stand alone, but in an argument resumes in itself all that has been advanced. Take careful note of the simple words of Scripture. There is point in them all. If, for example, the use of the word "therefore" in this text be overlooked, we shall be unable properly to feel the force of the apostle's appeal. What is it, then, that the apostle has said in this epistle, and of which he intends, by this word "therefore," to remind his readers? He has been giving to them a large, full, grand exposition of the great truths of redemption. He has prepared the way for this by a graphic picture of the sinfulness and helplessness of human nature. He has shown that the heathen world is grossly depraved--in a state of alienation from God, which is to a certain extent wilful (chap. i. 29-32). He has proceeded to demonstrate that, with all their advantages, the Jews are no better _at heart_ than the heathen, and as truly sinful, condemned, and hopeless as they (ii. 17-24). The conclusion supplied by these facts is, that none are righteous--that all, Jews and Gentiles alike, have sinned and come short of the glory of God, and that all stand on the same ground of spiritual danger. This brings out the fact that redemption is the pressing need of the whole world. The way is now clear for the presentation of the gospel. _The basis of redemption is Christ's work of atonement._ The foundation of the plan of salvation is God's free grace--His boundless, sovereign love. Christ came forth from the Father as the expression of this. He suffered, bled, died for us, to meet the claims of the Divine law on our behalf, and to procure our justification and peace. "Being justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus: whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in His blood" (iii. 24, 25). "Jesus Christ, who was delivered for our offences" (iv. 25). "For when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die. But God commendeth His love toward us in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (v. 6-8). Salvation, then, is founded upon the atonement of Christ--a proper work of propitiation, providing for pardon and justification. _The condition of this salvation on our part is simply the acceptance of it by faith._ Faith is primarily the repose of the soul in Christ's redeeming work--a yielding to God's method of saving us. It operates to this end independently--yea, even to the exclusion--of all works of self-righteousness. "By the deeds of the law shall no flesh living be justified." It is inconsistent with all boasting. "Where is boasting, then? It is excluded. By what law? Of works? Nay, but by the law of faith. Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law." This simple condition of salvation is the only one which can be adapted to our need. Sinners as we are, our condition is hopeless unless redemption be offered to us as a free gift. _This redemption is secured to all who believe by God's unalterable purpose and promise._ It is not vitally affected by recurring doubts and fears, nor even by our often insufficient struggles against sin (viii. 28-39). _The result is inconceivably glorious_; freedom from condemnation, adoption into God's family, joy, peace, full favour with God here, and heaven with its perfect glory, consummated in the resurrection, hereafter. Now, it is at the close of all this that the apostle's "therefore" comes; and these are the facts and principles which give to it its point and force. It links all the disclosures of Divine love with the obligations of redeemed souls. Since God has done so much as this for you, what then? By the remembrance of the sin which left you without hope; by the greatness of the love of God who, to save you, gave His well-beloved Son to an atoning death on your behalf; by the greatness of the love of Christ who, to save you, consecrated Himself to this perfect sacrifice; by His birth and death, by His cross and passion, by His resurrection and ascension; by the freeness and the simplicity of the condition on which Christ's salvation becomes yours; by your present peace; by your hope which blooms with immortality and with eternal life; by _these_, _the mercies of God_, I beseech you, yield yourselves to God. That surrender must be the first, the natural, the inevitable result of any vivid and practical realisation of the Divine goodness. "Yield your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God." The Apostle Paul was pre-eminently the teacher of what are called the doctrines of grace. In the system of Divine truth which he gives us, he leaves no room for the indulgence on man's part of the least sentiment of pride. The gospel, in his view, is the Divine expedient for what must otherwise have been a desperate and hopeless case; an expedient, therefore, which--since, from first to last, it is the expression of God's free and sovereign love--cannot allow of any self-glorying to man as unregenerate, or of any self-satisfaction to man as Christian. Hence the uniformity and consistency of his teaching with respect to "works." In the believer and the unbeliever alike, these "works," judged by "the law"--the standard of moral perfection--are all defective, and therefore unavailing. The same truth applies to them all at every stage of the Christian's progress towards heaven. In no sense does salvation come by "works," "lest any man should boast." On this point, however, the apostle has always been misunderstood by persons who have pushed his teaching to an illegitimate conclusion. If all be of "grace," why insist upon "works"? The objection was made in his day, and he met it. It is made in our day, and has still to be met. It is sufficiently met by Paul's own method. Paul's doctrine of grace could never, in his mind, lead to "licentiousness," and it is one of the most remarkable phenomena of religious thought that it should have ever been suspected of doing so. The Christian man, in Paul's view, is the regenerate man; and the regenerate man is the holy man. Without the spirit and life of holiness Paul would have deemed it absurd to consider a man a Christian at all. The passage before us, even if there were no others of the same kind, is sufficient to prove how indissolubly connected are privilege and obligation in the Christian life. As we have seen, the apostle draws the exhortations which commence with this chapter, and which are exhaustively presented in all their variety and comprehensiveness--exhortations to a complete consecration to God in all the practical forms which it can assume--from the great gospel system, the system of salvation by grace and by grace alone; evidently taking it for granted that, by the contemplation of the grace for man which is in Christ Jesus, the minds of his readers would be softened, and prepared to acknowledge the claim. What, then, is the nature of the consecration to which we are thus urged? "That ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, and acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service." Every word in this description tells: and if we gather together the elements of the service commended, we shall find that nothing is wanting, and that under the various particulars we may range all the duties and beauties of a consecrated Christian life. The only point on which a question might be raised is as to the meaning of the terms: "That ye present your _bodies_ a _living_ sacrifice." Some have supposed a contrast here between the dead bodies of the animals offered in the old sacrifices and the living self-consecration of the Christian. If the supposition be just, the idea is both beautiful and suggestive. I think, however, that the ultimate meaning of the apostle is that the believer in Christ should devote _himself_ wholly to God, and that the term "your bodies" is only another term for "yourselves." We cannot imagine an acceptable bodily, or external sacrifice, without the participation in it of the conscience, the judgment, the heart, the whole man. The apostle puts his thought somewhat more fully in the kindred passage: "Ye are bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit which are God's." Observe, then, the elements of this consecration. 1. _Individuality._ It is to be a personal thing. "Present yourselves." We cannot fulfil our Christian mission by transferring it to other hands. There are no proxies in religion. Organisations, committees, associations, the giving of money--all have their propriety, but none of them can take the place of personal "presentation." For convenience' sake, organisations of various kinds may be resorted to with a view to the maintenance and spread of the gospel in the world, and undoubtedly may be usefully employed in spheres beyond the reach of personal endeavour; but the individual Christian must _himself_ be engaged in the service of God. Every believer in the Saviour has his own sphere of service, in which no fellow creature can be substituted for Him. The Christian law is: personal service always in so far as it is possible; vicarious service only in so far as personal service cannot be rendered. 2. _Activity._ "A living sacrifice." No man fulfils his Christian commission in mere retirement and contemplation. It is true that he is not to be "of the world;" but in the nature of the case he must be "in" it. Retirement and contemplation are, indeed, needed for the rest and growth of the soul; but action is at least equally indispensable. Our practical life is the chief part of our testimony for God, and the chief weapon of our aggressive warfare upon the unbelief and irreligion around us; and in order that it may be effective, it is required, in its fulness and in its energy, to be pervaded, invigorated, impelled, and directed by the Christian spirit. Every scene, every experience, every development of life is to be hallowed. If we "present ourselves a living sacrifice," we relinquish all self-claim, and give ourselves up to God to be used by Him for the purposes of His glory. As Christ's sacrifice began with the moment when He left His Father's throne, so ours must begin with the first consciousness of our salvation--"a living sacrifice," the consecration of the whole life with all its powers. 3. _Holiness._ "Holy," because _to God_, with the full intention and devotion of the soul. This scarcely needs to be insisted on. There may be an apparent religious devotedness which is not real, because it takes the form of ostensibly religious acts--acts, however, which have not their origin and their impelling force in grateful love to God for His saving mercy, but in some kind of selfishness, and which are therefore unholy in themselves, and unacceptable to God. The consecrated life is the life which is in sympathy with the whole character and will of Him by whom the supreme blessing of redemption has been bestowed. 4. _Reasonableness._ The true consecration is not the result of any mere positive or arbitrary enactment, the ground and propriety of which cannot be discerned. The true Christian does not spend his life upon a certain principle, and consequently in a certain way, merely because he is _told_ to do so. The service which he renders to God rises out of his felt _relations_ to God. If it were not commanded at all--if it were not even formally hinted at as an obligation--it would still be natural, "reasonable," and therefore right. The realised "mercies of God" would be instinctively understood to claim it--instinctively felt to prompt it. "Your reasonable service." The words are significant. "Service" is properly _homage_. "Reasonable" is that which pertains to the _mind_. So that the apostle's phrase stands opposed to all mere religious externalism. It is the homage of the life to God with the full consent of the mind, in the consciousness of the sacred obligation arising out of the enjoyment of the Divine mercy in the salvation of the soul. Such service is declared to be "acceptable to God." It is so for the sake of Christ whose grace has infused into the soul the life out of which it springs; it is so because the motives which determine it are right and good; and it is so because it is the loving gift of His own children. But the apostle expands his thought, so as to set forth this consecration under other aspects--as, for example, that of _nonconformity to the world_. "Be not conformed to this world." A word of explanation is required on the meaning of the term, "this world." It is obvious that this term has no reference to the external frame of things, considered in itself. In a loose way we apply the term "world" to many things, and Nature is one of them. But full compliance with the apostle's admonition in the text is compatible with even an enthusiastic admiration of Nature. Nature is a mirror in which we may see the wisdom and the goodness of God. It is full of the beautiful to be loved--full of the sublime to be admired. Its phenomena, forms, and laws, are worthy of the most reverential and pleasurable investigation, not only for what they are in themselves, but because the most spiritual Christian can say, "My Father made them all: they are His." The term "world," again, sometimes means the aggregate of human beings; but nonconformity to the world is at the furthest remove from misanthropy. Human beings are proper objects of a Christian's love, and his love for them is shown in the best efforts he can make for their welfare. Every man is, to his mind, invested with a sacred importance. He endeavours to estimate men as fully as possible in the same way as God does, of whom it is said that "His mercies are over all His works," and that "He so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." At the lowest, man is God's image--mournfully defaced, it is true--but retaining in his nature traces enough of his original dignity to compel our recognition of him as God's handiwork; whilst also, even at the lowest, he may be brought under the influences of a gospel which despairs of none. Neither is there anything in the apostle's injunction to condemn the social relationships which prevail amongst us or to weaken our appreciation of them. The true Christian, indeed, will ever be the best husband, the best wife, the best parent, the best child, the best friend. All these natural relationships are capable of being ennobled by the holy, sanctifying influences of true religion. God Himself often appeals to them as types of the relations in which He stands to us, and as explanations of the tenderness of the love He cherishes for us. How prominent is the position they take in the epistles. The inspired writers thought none of them beneath their notice. God has given to us His will in connection with such humble things as domestic service, slavery, and the like. Neither does the apostle here call upon us to separate ourselves from the common business of secular life. Scripture again and again enforces the honest doing of the work of every day, on which the bread of every day depends. Nor is there here any prohibition of the enjoyment of the utmost happiness which the sinless pleasures of our outward life can afford. The Christian is peculiarly fitted for such enjoyment, because he can receive it with a devoutly thankful heart, and in a spirit which will keep it from being harmful. This term, "the world," means _the age_, or the temporal conditions now existing, considered from a moral and spiritual point of view. "The world," therefore, to which we are not to be "conformed" is the order and course of life followed by those to whom the present is all and eternity nothing. The Christian is to regard life from another, a higher--namely, a spiritual and eternal--point of view, and to live accordingly. It is the _wrong spirit_ of life that the apostle calls us away from--the life which is governed by "worldly" impulses and motives. His injunction is like unto that of another apostle: "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever." "The lust of the flesh"--carnality--the lowest of all the forms of self-gratification--that which makes the drunkard, the profligate, the debauchee. "The lust of the eyes"--the disposition to attach ourselves to what is external, showy, dazzling. "The pride of life"--the tendency to glory in anything which ministers to our self-importance in our worldly position--wealth, rank, station. All these things are passing away, and are therefore unworthy of the supreme place in our hearts. Enjoyments springing out of them, hopes founded upon them, must perish. Only he that "doeth the will of God"--living above the love of the world, by living to God and in the supreme love of Him--"abideth for ever" in the higher and happier order of being. There is a proper "use" of the world, which is easily distinguished from its "abuse." The worldly spirit of an unchristian man says, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." The ascetic spirit in a Christian man says, "All contact with the world is dangerous: we must have nothing to do with it. Touch not, taste not, handle not." The true spirit of Christianity says, "Use the world, but do not abuse it." The Christian's inheritance is inclusive of "all things." All may be made to minister to his spiritual growth, and to become the means of blessing on his part to others. Avail yourself of all, then, but within the limits proper to each; never allowing any, by over indulgence, to check the development of the inner life. Use the world, but do not let the world use you. "I pray not that Thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that Thou shouldest _keep them from the evil_." In looking, then, at the idea of nonconformity to the world, it was in the apostle's mind, we are impressed by one or two reflections. 1. The apostle takes a wide, free, and exalted view of his subject. He is in marked dissent from the spirit of Pharisaism, whether among the Jews, or in the Christian Church. His plan is different from the ordinary rules and restraints which men put upon themselves, and which attach (sometimes arbitrarily enough) merely to certain habits and forms of life which are of no moment. Paul's "world" does not mean certain conditions of society, certain amusements, or certain occupations, conventionally marked off from all the rest as being specially wrong. It is not a mere cleaning of the outside of the platter. He goes deeply into the heart of things. What he teaches is this: "Ye are God's redeemed, disciples of Christ, heirs of glory." Live under the inspiration of all this--all will then follow that ought to follow. You are no longer under law, which says, "Touch not, taste not, handle not--stand entirely aloof;" but under grace, with love to God as your motive, and the Spirit of Christ as your guide. He could say, "I am not of the world;" and yet He was no prophet of the wilderness, but a Brother and Sympathiser everywhere. The first great social act of His public ministry was to associate Himself with the joy of life. With its sorrow also He was equally at home. He lived His Divine life in every scene--in His childhood under the roof of His parents, in the toil for bread, in public, in private, in the temple, in the family at Bethany. There is no allowable scene in which we move, and with which we mingle, from which His sanctifying presence is withheld. We have no need to be afraid to go where He has been before us, if only we go in His spirit. "They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world." 2. This law lays no hard bondage on life. Not on its duties; for Christianity raises them all into consecration;--not on its affections; for Christianity purifies them all;--nor on its lawful enjoyments; for Christianity forbids nothing but sin. Worldliness is determined by the _spirit_ of our life, not by the objects with which we have to do. It is only "the _lust_ of the flesh, the _lust_ of the eye, and the _pride_ of life" that are prohibited. It is not a worldly object that makes us worldly, but the worldly spirit with which we regard it. 3. It is easy to see that this principle of nonconformity to the world is in constant requisition. There is abundant scope for it. The opinions of men and the known will of God are often in competition; it ought never to be a matter of doubt as to which we prefer. We are often exposed to allurement into scenes which are notoriously unfavourable to the development of the spiritual life; there ought not to be even a momentary uncertainty as to our willingness to resist the allurement--not merely for our own sake, but for the sake of Him whose "mercies" we enjoy, whose we are, and whom we profess to serve. There should never be any room for the question as to whether we are on the side of right or wrong, holiness or sin, spirituality or carnality, conscience or convenience, charity or harshness, faith or unbelief. Thus we see that, whilst in one aspect of it Christianity is broad, in another it is narrow. "Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, that leadeth unto life." These are the words of the Divine Author of our faith. This is the chief ground of dislike which men of the world have to the practical claims of the gospel. Say with Paul that everything we do must be done to the glory of God; say with Christ that sin is in our secret thoughts as well as in our acts, and then the complaint of "strictness" is instantly heard. Yet is it not evident that an inward holiness is the only thing that can be taught, and that without inward holiness there is no real holiness at all? The truth is that men secretly want concessions to be made in favour of their favourite sins--one for his ambition, another for his unlawful or questionable attachments, another for his covetousness, another for his liberty to be dishonest in trade or insincere in society, another--where shall we stop? Concessions? Men may make concessions in these directions in the name of Christianity; but Christianity itself disowns them. "What fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness? and what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel? and what agreement hath the temple of God with idols? for ye are the temple of the living God; as God hath said, I will dwell in them, and walk in them; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty." "Be not conformed to this world." So obviously true are the remarks which have been made, that one reflection might well excite a momentary surprise. It might be said, "Is not unworldliness of the very essence of the new life? And if it be, why recommend that which must follow in the due course of things?" It is true that unworldliness _is_ of the essence of the new life; but we have to remember that we receive that life, not perfectly developed, but in its germ; and that the process of its growth is impeded by what remains of the old life which it is destined gradually, and by-and-by completely, to replace. This is the phenomenon which Paul describes when he speaks of the conflict between the "old" man and the "new." Our will is called upon at every point to decide between the impulses of our new condition and the habits of the old. In conclusion, how is this nonconformity to the world, in the spirit of a grateful consecration to God, to be attained? "Be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God." This is the great desideratum--the great necessity. The primary change must take place in the mind--not in its nature, but in the kind and order of its _life_. It must be "renewed" in its bias, in its inclinations, in its aspirations, so that it may be able to understand and appreciate the Divine will, and to address itself to the order of service which the Father of mercies shall accept. It may be said, "What do we know of the spiritual world? And how can we be conformed to a world of which we know nothing?" The answer is, that our very Christianity supposes the change which sets this objection aside. Our love to this present world can only be subdued by its being superseded _by_ another, or subordinated _to_ another. Our love to Christ is the great secret of our attachment to heaven and to heavenly things. Given a soul under the influence of love to God, and loyalty to God must follow. In order to this, however, there must be self-knowledge. We must see our "differences." There must be the study of the character of Christ. There must also be earnest prayer for, and trust in, the help of the Holy Spirit. The work before us is more than an occasional outburst of religious sentiment; more than spasmodic, self-denying charity under the influence of suddenly awakened emotion; more than scrupulosity about small matters of pleasure or pursuit. _It is a life_; and as such it has spontaneity, freedom, and blessedness. In many an instance it attains wonderful maturity on earth; it is perfected in heaven. Is this life ours? Oh, accept the one and only Saviour--exclusive in His claims, yet offering His mercy to all. You are conscious of sin, and this makes you feel (if you reflect) your need of salvation. Take it from Him. All He asks is that you should turn from the sin that made Him bleed, and trust the love which for you was stronger than death. Strait as is the gate through which you must enter into "life," that life is in itself one of holy freedom and holy joy. The "gate" opens into broad fields of exhaustless treasure. Whoever may represent the Christian life as monotonous and poor, we say it is not so. It is quietness of heart, loftiness of feeling, sweet submission, trust, loyalty to the highest, aspiration after the best, the abnegation of self in blessing others and in glorifying the God and Father of all; such is the life to which the Christian is called. We challenge the world to produce a single case of a Christian regretting his consecration, or confessing that he made a sorry exchange, when he left the world's delusive hopes for pardon, peace, the Father's smile, the way of holiness, and the assurance of heaven. The wholly consecrated Christian is the wholly happy one. Fling wide the portals of your heart; Make it a temple set apart From earthly use, for heaven's employ, Adorn'd with prayer and love and joy: So shall your sovereign enter in, And new and nobler life begin. Redeemer, come! I open wide My heart to Thee; here, Lord, abide! Let me Thine inner presence feel, Thy grace and love in me reveal; Thy Holy Spirit guide me on, Until the glorious crown be won! VIII. _CHRISTIANITY IN OUR DAILY LIFE._ "Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus."--Colossians iii. 17. One of the most striking characteristics of the Christian religion is what I may term its _universality_. I mean that its obligations and privileges cover the whole ground of human life--present and to come. This fact, which is abundantly illustrated and enforced in the New Testament, is also clearly hinted at in the Old. It seems to have been present to the Psalmist's mind in the parallel he draws in the nineteenth Psalm between the sun, whose going forth is from the end of heaven, whose circuit is unto the ends of it, and from whose heat nothing is hid; and "the law of the Lord" which, in its perfectness, comes into satisfying contact with all human need. It converts the soul, turning it towards itself, the source of light. It makes wise the simple, who unreservedly yield to its influence. It rejoices the heart, anxious to be right, as it is itself perfect. It enlightens the eyes with a purity of truth which has no admixture of error. It cleanses from secret faults. It keeps back the servant of the Lord from presumptuous sins. This universality gives to Christianity its grand ideal character. It teaches that, morally considered, sin is the condition of _all men_; that condemnation is the result of sin to _all men_; and that the love of the Father, the sacrifice of the Son, and the regenerating and sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit have direct bearings on the spiritual wants of _all men_. Christianity meets an absolute ruin by an absolute restoration; so that, as there is nothing in man and in his relations to the universe which sin has not defiled and degraded, so there is nothing in man and in his relations to the universe which Christianity is not designed and destined to uplift and to purify. This element of universality comes out very strikingly in the chapter before us. The apostle is describing the spiritual life. In its essence, it is an abandonment of the "old"--"putting off the old man," as a dress thrown completely aside; and an adoption of the new--"putting on the new man"--the prodigal's rags exchanged for the best robe. In its range, it is universal--_within_, setting the affections on heavenly things; _without_, renouncing the deeds of the life of sin, and manifesting the virtues of the life of holiness. It is universal also in its application--involving personal purity, and giving its own tone and spirit to all the relationships, to all the worship, and to all the work, of life. The whole is summed up in the remarkable words of the text: "And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do _all_ in the name of the Lord Jesus." We are the subjects of a Providence and a Grace inclusive of every moment and every incident. God, on His part, demands of us a consecration that shall leave nothing (however unimportant, relatively considered) unhallowed--not a single affection, no domestic or social relationship, nothing in speech, nothing in conduct. It is the same truth that the same apostle elsewhere expresses: "Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." I want to offer to your attention at this time a single application of this principle--its application to the common, secular work of life. At first sight, it seems strange that by far the greater part of human life should be appointed by God to be spent in worldly toil. This strangeness is augmented in proportion as our aim is towards a life distinctively and completely Christian. Considering the supreme importance of the spiritual and the eternal; considering, too, the uncertain duration of our life, notwithstanding the fact that it involves the immeasurable interests of eternity; and considering, still further, the manifold obstacles in the way of a man's salvation--we might have supposed that God's providential arrangements would have secured to us far more freedom from worldly labour and care than we enjoy. It would not have been surprising if He had said to us: "Retire much; rest much--that you may have much time for thought and prayer." But it is not so. Six days for work; one day for rest and worship! Certain exceptions apart, toil is, for most men, the hard and unremitting condition of life; often indeed--especially in our cities, and in "hard times" like the present--toil that demands the straining of every nerve, the putting forth to the utmost of every energy, and the employment of every moment. The best of us come to our Sabbaths like wrestlers who sit and rest for a while between the conflict past and the conflict to come. This is the experience of most of us: business men who have to fight in the great competitions of trade; working men to strive for a sufficiency of bread and raiment for themselves and their families; fathers and mothers, masters and servants who have to meet the manifold duties and worries of domestic life. We come to our Sabbath-rest, probably with the feeling that, on the whole, during the week, we have _lost_ rather than _gained_ in relation to our spiritual interests. Are we right in the feeling? Must our daily work be a hindrance to us? Is it impossible for us so to engage in it as to find it spiritually helpful? The text before us settles the point. It presents to us an obligation that is inclusive of every word and deed, and which must consequently include the common toil of every day. It is an apostolic injunction, and the injunction presupposes its own practicability. "Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all _in the name of the Lord Jesus_." That secular work is not _necessarily_ spiritually helpful we know too well. Idleness is always disastrous; but there is much worldly work which is more disastrous still. Tens of thousands pursue it daily in utter godlessness, and train themselves by it to intense selfishness and materialism. They "mind earthly things," and "glory in their shame." Even many professing Christians manifest an alarming craving for mere worldly enjoyment; and their luxuries tax them a hundred-fold more than their benevolence. But it need not be so. Secular work _can_ be made the means of spiritual education, and the sphere for the development of piety. The first great requisite is conversion. No obligation, indeed, rests upon Christians which does not rest upon all men, whether they be Christians or not. A perfect Christian is simply _man as he ought to be_. But in the unchristian man the disposition is wanting--he lives to himself. The Christian, on the contrary, has entered into a new life. By the Holy Spirit's grace, he has repented of sin; he is forgiven, accepted, justified, accepted into Divine sonship; he is under the influence of new principles--is essentially in a new world--acknowledges a holy law, which he now loves for its own sake--is consciously under the eye of a good Master, who is his Saviour as well as his Lord--and is thus moved by a living impulse of gratitude to Him who has died for him, and whose he is in life and death. Out of this there comes the conviction that the one object of life should be spiritual growth. Commonly men think of life as having two aims; or rather they try to solve the problem of living two lives--the one present, the other future; the one worldly, the other religious; the one affecting the body with its transitory interests, the other affecting the soul with its eternal interests. Hence the wide divorce between "the secular" and "the sacred," work and worship, holy days and common days. The more enlightened Christian knows that this is a radical mistake. The world, time, matter, the body--all have their relations and their obligations, their spheres and their claims; but they do not stand isolated from the spiritual and the unseen. Separate, they are godless. They are all intended to serve as instruments of moral discipline--to supply lessons in the school of life;--all tending, under God, to the great result. Failures they are, if regarded as _ends_ in themselves; blessed they are in proportion as they are religiously used as _means_. Apart from the conviction that this should be our one great aim, it seems impossible to hope that the spiritual will predominate over the worldly; the six days' secular toil must be destructive of the day's spiritual culture. The "prosperous" will degrade life into a mere pursuit of earthly wealth with its associated advantages, whilst the rest will simply continue the hard struggle for daily bread--"the bread that perisheth." The life of millions around us seems, religiously considered, to be an absolute blank. Mix with them, observe them, and you will be convinced of this. It is one of the sources of deepest sadness to a Christian to note the extent to which godlessness prevails in all ranks of society. Even amongst Christians themselves there are terrible invasions of the spirit of worldliness. Let _us_ seek, by the help of God, the convictions by which this evil may be checked. The soul is greater than the body; eternity is greater than time. The material and the temporal sink into insignificance in contrast with the spiritual and the eternal. Let the lower interests serve the higher. I have already referred to the universality of the claims which Christianity makes upon us. Its aim is not to induce us to assume a certain character merely at certain specified times and in certain specified places, and to be content with that. On the contrary, its purpose is to induce us to do everything in one specified spirit, which shall shape, give sanctity and consecration to, the whole. Hence, it is never represented as working first on the outward habits of men, but on their hearts. It does not cleanse the outside of the cup or platter, leaving corruption within; but it first endeavours to establish purity within, and to give the purity which is within a force by which it shall work outwardly. The outward acts of the life are but the embodiments of the heart and will. Thus, whether we be scholars, or merchants, or preachers, or mechanics, or servants, we are to carry a soul, sanctified and governed by Christ, into all our occupations, even the commonest. Whether we pray or work, whether we be in the church or the shop, we are to be under the control of the one Christian spirit. Undoubtedly, there are some occupations in which it is difficult for Christians to engage, and some which they ought never to touch. But apart from these, the work of life is not an evil. There is no need to retire away from it into solitude as the only suitable sphere for the development of piety. A wise Christian looks upon it as a mode of spiritual culture. It depends upon the man himself, upon the guiding principle of his life, as to whether work shall degrade or raise him. Consider two or three points in illustration and proof of the truth I am endeavouring to enforce. I. Secular work requires and cultivates certain active forces of character which are also required in the culture of the spiritual life, such, for example, as _clearness and definiteness of aim_: so that there shall be no working in the dark, or in ignorance of the special end to be attained. "This one thing I do." _Perseverance_, so that the end, once clearly ascertained and decided on, shall be steadily and unflinchingly pursued, until it is accomplished. _Prudence and foresight_, so that there shall be a wise adaptation of means. _Energy_, so that every opportunity and every appliance shall be used to the utmost. _Courage_, so that no difficulties shall dismay. All these forces acquire strength in the earthly sphere, which is a clear gain, and which may be brought to use in the spiritual. We, as Christians, have an end to pursue which must be clearly apprehended; we must not run uncertainly, or as one that beateth the air; we must persevere, running with patience the race that is set before us; our zeal must not be without knowledge; what our hands find to do we must do with our might; and we must be in nothing terrified by our adversaries. So far from being hindered in all this by the discipline of our common life, experience proves that indolence in secular business has a paralysing effect on spiritual exertion. In spiritual exertion man uses the same power as in secular, only the field of operation is different. But inasmuch as the same powers are wanted for both, the one may be a true auxiliary to the other. II. The same line of remark will apply to the _passive_ forces of character. They are wanted equally in the secular and the spiritual, and their cultivation in the one prepares them for use in the other. For example: _Submission._ Many a position in life is irksome and uncongenial; but nevertheless it should be accepted as God's providential arrangement on our behalf. "It is not in man that walketh to direct his steps."--_Patience._ Many a result has to be long worked for and long waited for, often with many disappointments and reverses.--_Contentment._ The worry of life, not its work, is that which burdens and kills. Looking on our position as one which God has appointed, we take it calmly as that which is best for us.--_Trust._ We have simply to rely on God for everything, remembering that our powers, opportunities, and results are all under His wise and loving control. "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," and sufficient also is the grace to bear it. Our hearts are wearied and worn only as we insist on carrying heavier burdens than God assigns to us. How clear it is that all these passive forces are needed in our secular work, if it is to be done well! But it is equally clear that they are needed just as much in our spiritual life. In it their growth is an essential element; and they have their bearing specially on Christian work--work done for the spread of religion in the world. III. Secular work offers important opportunities for spiritual usefulness. Our most effective preaching is often that of our unconscious influence. And let us remember that no amount of formal sanctity can prevail against the inconsistencies of our common days. Moreover, our daily, secular duties bring us into contact with men in ways which are least open to suspicion. Add to this, that they put into our hands, in a greater or lesser degree, resources by which we can materially help the cause of Christ, and so become, in heart, in interest, in devotedness, more and more closely identified with that cause. We can "honour the Lord with our substance, and with the first-fruits of all our increase," and so find that "it is more blessed to give than to receive." The practical problem that God gives to every one of us to solve, is to get perfected in our hearts the feeling that we are doing His will in the common details of our ordinary vocation as well as in acts more ostensibly "religious." The conclusion is irresistible; the thing may be done--but how? It cannot be done without habitual self-examination; it cannot be done without prayer; it cannot be done without reliance on the help of the Holy Spirit. Let us be thankful to God for putting within our reach the high honour of glorifying Him, for introducing us to a life so pure in its springs, for His kindly help in every step of its progress, and for the hope that it will one day reach its happy consummation. IX. _UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE._ "I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment. For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned."--Matthew xii. 36, 37. This is a startling, terrifying text; one of many which tempt men to limitations and compromises of their meaning. Some persons would not hesitate to accuse it of extravagance, and even devout Christians sometimes pause and ask whether it is to be taken in its absolute literalness. "Every idle word." Is not this the kind of thing which is least amenable to a vigorous judgment? Is not the "idle," the vain, the worthless, at the worst, thereby negative? Christ says, No. Speech is a gift to be put to sanctified uses; and the non-use as well as the abuse of every gift is sinful. This utterance of our Divine Master, to be vindicated, needs only to be understood. Underlying it are vital moral considerations which should be devoutly studied. There are many ways in which a man can manifest himself. By his thought, he is always known to God and to his own heart, but not to his fellow men. To reveal himself to them, his thought must somehow find expression. His actions are mostly intentional and deliberate; but they are liable to be prompted, inspired, checked, or controlled by circumstances. So, too, may be his speech; but there is a spontaneousness, a freedom, in _that_, which belongs to no other manifestation of the man's inward self. Thus it is by his words that he is best judged. The largest part of our practical life is resolvable into speech. Christianity itself is amenable to this law. Think of the streams of holy speech which have been flowing through the world for ages, and of the life they have conveyed to thirsty souls. Think of these streams as they are flowing to-day in tens of thousands of Christian congregations, and in innumerable Sabbath schools. Compare their influence with that of the dark utterances of heathenism, and the disturbing teachings of unbelief. Think of the countless rills of Christian speech which are flowing to-day from the lips of those who love the Saviour, and who are endeavouring to make Him known in the home, in the sick-chamber, in the prison-house, and in their various intercourse with those around them. Compare their influence with that of the idle, thoughtless, impious, profane talk of the millions who are living without God; and then say whether Christianity may or may not be judged by its words! Lord Jesus, Thou needest no justification from such imperfect creatures as we are; but if Thou didst, it would be enough for us to recall the gracious words that proceeded out of thine own mouth, and then to challenge the wisdom of the ages, saying, "Never man spake like this man!" The general drift of the passage before us is this, that man speaks as he is, and is as he speaks, and that, therefore, by his words he shall be judged. His words are signs which reveal his character. Whilst, at the last, he will be judged by his character, single words and unnoticed deeds will, if need be, be adduced as proofs of inner and underlying principles. Of course it is not meant that words will be the only tests; but our Lord's language shows that they form a far more important element of proof than is commonly supposed. In this light, no manifestation of character is insignificant. Everything tells. Words, looks, even gestures, have their meaning. Often to men's eyes, and always to God's (though He does not need them) they are as straws on the stream, showing the course of the current. These general reflections supply the basis of the further reflections I have to offer. My purpose is twofold: first, to show that, for good or ill, the life of every one of us is an incessant exercise of influence; and secondly, to deduce from this fact some important lessons. I. Now, generally, when men speak of exerting influence, the thought present to their minds is of something exceptional, attractive, commanding, or formal. Thus, such a phrase as "a person of influence" is understood to denote a man who stands in a position of special advantage, either (for instance) of wealth, or of mental power, or of social importance. Hence the notion of influence is narrowed, and ultimately it becomes false. It does so in two ways: partly by restricting influence to a few, and then by confining it among these few to certain peculiarities of character or of circumstance. The truth is that influence is always going forth from every man, and from everything _in_ man. There are two ways in which men act upon one another. They do so either directly, deliberately, and intentionally, or, otherwise, indirectly and unconsciously. Thus, if I want to make men around me generous, I may write, preach, speak, use arguments, multiply incentives, enforce appeals. In all this I am conscious that I have a purpose to accomplish, and in everything I say I keep that purpose in view. If I succeed, I do so through the intentional influence I have put into operation. I have tried to realise a definite result, and I have not been disappointed. But I can teach generosity in another way. Obedient to the impulses of my own heart, I may relieve the need of some poor blind beggar on the road, who implores the passer-by to help him. This act may be noticed by a third person whom I did not know to be near, and it may so impress him as to open his heart and his hand to do the kindness he had not thought of doing. Now I had no such design with respect to _him_; for the time, I had nothing in view beyond meeting an appeal for help which came personally to myself. I was unconscious of the influence I exerted upon the person who followed my example, and yet I did for him as much as if I had set myself to develop an argument or to enforce a claim. Now, if at this point the question be asked: "Are we responsible for this undesigned influence?" the answer is that we certainly _are_ so, inasmuch as it springs from, and manifests, character. We must not be misled by the fact that this quiet, unconscious action is not that of which the world takes much notice. Men do not speak of it, as they do of the striking and commanding agencies which form so large a portion of the history of the day. Some of these are powerful on a wide scale, as in the case of a popular preacher, or a great philanthropist. But the influence of which we are speaking is exerted within narrower circles. It acts, not upon the masses by wide-spread impressions, but upon individuals by single strokes; not upon the broad platform of public enterprise, but within the more contracted sphere of personal life. The supposition that it is feeble on that account is a grave mistake. Our personal relationships are more numerous and more continuous than our public avocations, and it is in the former rather than in the latter that we are most effectually training our fellow creatures for good or evil. Sometimes, too, this quiet influence is brought to light with important results, as when John Bright was discovered reading the Scriptures in the cottage of a poor blind woman. No public act of his--splendid as all his public acts are--could furnish a truer indication of character than this simple and, to most people's eyes, this unimportant incident in his history. That the value of direct influence in promoting the well-being of mankind is incalculable there can be no doubt. All our great undertakings--social, political, and religious--are of this kind. The progress which the world has made in every right direction is greatly due to the combined efforts put forth by societies or bodies of men who have had truth to propagate, or blessing to diffuse, and who have steadily directed their energies to the end in view. Associations for Political Reform, Temperance Societies, British Schools, Ragged Schools, Sunday Schools, Tract Societies, Missionary Agencies, Mothers' Meetings, Church, Chapel, out-door, and theatre services, are all of this sort; and the harvest of good reaped from them only God knows, at whose inspiration and in whose name all good is done. Statistics tell us much, but far more remains untold. All this well-directed action is in accordance with the Divine order. God wills that we should use judiciously and zealously applied effort for each other's welfare, especially in connection with the spread of His truth. Every Christian agency is a form of obedience to the great command: "Preach the gospel to every creature." Such action, moreover, is in accordance with our convictions. We _must_ labour, formally and intentionally, on behalf of any and every cause which lies near to our hearts. Imagine all these direct agencies to be suddenly and completely withdrawn--what would then become of our poor world? Would it not speedily lapse into a mournful, moral waste--a training-school for present and everlasting perdition? Multiplied and energetically worked as these agencies are, the condition of the world is bad enough. The appalling needs of the world demand heroic effort; and, as I have said, the amount of good already wrought by this is beyond calculation. Nevertheless, the other kind of influence--the indirect and unconscious--is invested also with an importance which is incalculable; and it will be a blessed time both for the Church and for the world when this truth comes to be practically remembered as it should be. Let us consider this matter a little further, bearing in mind, as we do so, that the application of the subject must be to the Christian conscience of us all. I. Notice some differences between the two kinds of influence which have been named. 1. We have already said the influence which we consciously exert is the result of forethought, and deliberately contemplates an end, the attainment of which is steadily kept in view; whilst our unconscious influence is spontaneous, and has no premeditation or calculation about it. We need only add here, that the action of this unconscious influence is very immediate; a fact which is explained by the mysterious insight which enables men to look into, and to understand, one another. We form judgments of men every day without data that we can adduce. These judgments are instinctive, and they are more frequently right than wrong. How is it that we conceive a sudden repugnance to one, and at first sight fall in love with another? The impression made needed only a word, a tone, a look, a gesture, a smile, a tear; on so slender a basis a judgment was formed which will last a life-time, or which years will be required to modify. 2. Our unconscious influence is a perpetual emanation from ourselves. Direct effort need not truly express us at all. It may be imposed upon us by circumstances which we cannot control. Often we should avoid it if we could. Moreover, when it is voluntary and unconstrained, it is a thing of times, seasons, places, and conditions in life, and is therefore more or less fitful, partial, and intermittent. The other kind of influence acts continuously--without pauses, without breaks, without paroxysms. It is thus that every man--high or low--in spheres extended or narrow, without intention, forethought or consciousness of the fact, is always leading some one more or less closely after him: it may be wife, friend, little child, or stranger; but some one most surely. 3. This unconscious influence is necessarily simple. It makes its appeal to all kinds of human judgment, and to all degrees of human insight. It is quickly apprehended, by the ignorant and the young as well as by the learned and mature. Many of our direct and most definitely-arranged efforts are misunderstood. They tax people's thought; they demand reflection; and they frequently excite differences of opinion. How many instances there are in which the most cogent and strongly-urged arguments are lost, while the quiet and undesigned force of example succeeds. 4. Our unconscious influence is the more powerful because it excites no suspicion. It is intuitively felt to represent our inner self in the direction, and within the range, of its present meaning. Many of our direct efforts put men upon their guard. If they are hostile to our intentions, they resist our formal endeavours; if they are indifferent, they become impatient of our zeal. But direct efforts, moreover, are often thought to be mainly _professional_, and this impression concerning them places them at a disadvantage. On the other hand, our unconscious influence wins men unconsciously to themselves--wins them when they are off their guard--and thus wins them in spite of themselves. II. How, then, does this fact of our unconscious influence touch the question of our responsibility? In what sense, and on what grounds, are we accountable for it? 1. It is conditioned by our character. It reproduces outwardly what we are within. If our character, or, as the Divine Master terms it, our "heart" be good, then our unconscious influence must be good likewise; if our character--our "heart"--be evil, our unconscious influence must also be evil. As we are responsible for the motives which actuate us, so are we responsible for every form of conduct that proceeds therefrom. It must, of course, be admitted that even in a fundamentally holy character there are ever and anon exceptional mistakes, inconsistencies, and flaws. How many of these, He only knows who forgives all. But we are speaking of great moral tendencies; and concerning these we are in no doubt. They reveal _character_, and they share the responsibility, in regard to their influence, which belongs to character. 2. It is by this unconscious influence that we act most on those who are nearest to us. Children, members of our families, fellow-workmen, and acquaintances--all these are much more affected by the general tenour of our conduct, and the so-thought trivial indications of our character, than by our more formal efforts. Alas, it often happens that these latter are made ineffectual by the operation of the former. A practical inconsistency in a parent's life at home will drive away from the mind and conscience of a child the force of the best and most frequently repeated precept. Even when direct and well-meant effort is put forth, it is often comparatively powerless apart from the help it derives from the unconscious influence that accompanies it. A smile, a look, a sigh, a tear, will often put life into an argument which may be sound enough in itself, but which, without such an auxiliary, would be dry, uninteresting, and therefore ineffective. Is all this influence outside the range of our responsibility? 3. Our indirect influence is our _truest_. It best represents _us_. In formal effort, there is room for a more or less transient enthusiasm, love of excitement, love of applause, self-seeking, hypocrisy. But our unconscious influence belongs to us at all times--follows us, and is as true to us as the shadow follows, and is true to, the substance. We cannot escape from it. It proceeds from us spontaneously, without our volition; and it mirrors externally what we are radically and in the recesses of our real being. If we be responsible for what we really are, we must be responsible for the influence we thus spontaneously and inevitably exert. 4. Another ground of this responsibility is that, on reflection, we know that it is by these unconscious exhibitions of character that the world is constantly judging us. Often the judgment of the world is harsh, and commonly uncharitable; but it is shrewd, and generally there is a rough justice about it which marks its worth. These considerations, and many more that might be adduced, show how solemn is our responsibility with respect to the impressions we are constantly and unconsciously producing on those around us. As in nature, so in human life, the most unobtrusive and silent forces are the strongest. The nightly dew effects more good than the occasional storm-shower, and light works more wonders than lightning. III. From all this we learn some weighty lessons. It teaches us-- 1. The importance of each act in our life. The text before us is no exaggeration. Everything tells, because there is character in everything, and consequently _power_ for good or ill. It is impossible for any one of us to be in the world without responsibility. There is no escape for us. Simply to be _in_ the world, whatever we may be, is to exert an influence, subtle, quiet, powerful--an influence compared with which argument and expostulation and entreaty are feeble. We say we mean well; we think that at least we are injuring nobody and doing no harm; _but is it so?_ It cannot be so, unless our influence be always on the side of God and of goodness. By looks, glances, unpremeditated words and deeds, we are perpetually exerting an influence which may turn the scale of some man's eternal destiny! 2. The necessity of conversion. If our unconscious influence is to be of a wholesome kind, we must undergo a radical moral change, out of which will proceed an all-pervading sanctification. Blessed be God for the revelation of the Holy Spirit. Up to this point, the consideration of our subject may have prompted some to ask: "Are we, then, to be anxiously, feverishly, incessantly watching ourselves in order that we may make no mistakes, and do no evil? Such vigilance--would it not take all our time, and absorb all our strength? Such a life--would it not be a terrible bondage? Is it necessary?" We reply, "Yes, and no." That is to say, there will always be the necessity for watchfulness and prayer; but the true secret of _doing_ good lies in _being_ good. The path of the just is as a shining light; he shines because he is luminous. The tree is known by its fruit; not by the fruit which is tacked on, as in the case of a Christmas tree, but by the fruit which is the produce of the tree's own interior life. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. A good man out of the treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things, and an evil treasure bringeth forth evil things." Before a man can impart the higher order of blessing to his fellow men, he himself must receive the blessing of a new nature from God. The question is often asked why the triumphs of Christianity are not more marked in the world, and why spiritual growth is not more marked in the Church. The answer is found partly, no doubt, in the imperfections of the direct efforts which are put forth with these ends in view; but not in these alone. No small portion of it is to be traced to the deleterious elements which mingle with the undesigned influences which emanate from many of the professors of Christ's religion. When Moses was on the Mount with God, his face became luminous. Was he conscious of its shining? Not until the people were "afraid to come nigh him." Then he had to cover his face with a vail! How few are "luminous" enough to need "vailing" now! X. _SECULAR ANXIETY._ "Take no thought for your life."--Matthew vi. 25. "Take no thought for the morrow."--Matthew vi. 31. Let us survey the entire passage of which the first of these texts is the commencement, and of which the second is the close. It brings before us a common evil, and for this evil it proposes a sovereign remedy. The evil is _secular anxiety_. Perhaps we need not be greatly surprised at its prevalence, when we consider what the life-experience of most of us is. Think of the uncertainty of almost everything we know--life, health, friendship, domestic relationships and affections, riches, commerce. Life has many sad surprises and disappointments. Our own day is especially full of care. The age is mad with speculation--thousands making haste to be rich, and so bringing upon themselves many temptations. For many others, the time is full of hard necessities, and the outlook is one of possible or even probable poverty. The admonitions given by our Lord in the verses before us are needed now more than ever. There are persons who, under the influence of pride and false notions of manliness, consider careworn Christians--Christians labouring and struggling amid the difficulties of the way--undeserving of sympathy. "After all," they say, "what are the ills of life, that we should make so much ado? Be men!" Sometimes we meet with superficial Christians who profess that this life is really so insignificant, that it shows a low state of piety to be painfully affected by common ills. As to the first, nothing but stoicism, or the hard-heartedness which is sometimes the result of prosperity, can make the soul unsusceptible to the ordinary troubles of life, or independent of the antidote which the religion of Christ supplies. As to the second, do not let them talk in a way which implies that they are wiser than their Lord. He knew how heavily care pressed upon the hearts He loved, and condescended to offer them the appropriate and all-sufficient relief. And how does the great Teacher speak to the careworn in these verses? Is it not unspiritual to take arguments for the comfort of our Christian life from lower things? Must we go to the irrational and inanimate creation for gospels of blessing for our spiritual need? Christ drew His arguments from the birds and the flowers; clearly showing that we should accustom ourselves to see God's hand, His love, His teaching, in all things. Let Him not be excluded from the least part of His creation. Every part of it may subserve the purposes of His grace. "_Consider_" the fowls of the air and the flowers of the fields; make them objects of study. To the thoughtful they often suggest "thoughts that lie too deep for tears;" to the Christian they may well suggest thoughts which shall inspire thanksgiving and prayer. Note the condescension, the simplicity, and the power of our Lord's argument. His appeals are homely. He seeks no far-fetched reasonings or facts from antiquity. He points to birds and flowers; an argument for simple people, but equally effective for the learned and the refined. We have no need to go far for lessons of comfort. We must not overlook the necessary limitations of our Lord's teaching in these verses. Those limitations are found in the nature of things. Observe, then, I. Christ does not forbid all anticipations of the future. He cannot mean so much as this when He says, "Take no thought for the morrow." Man is an inhabitant of two worlds--one material, the other spiritual. This being so, two distinct sets or classes of wants press upon him--the wants of the body, and those of the soul. The wants of the soul point to a future state of existence, for which we must prepare. In relation to these, carelessness--the absence of forethought--would be fatal. According to the state of our souls, the thought of the future gives us terror or joy. To the Christian, the future is the scene of his perfected spiritual growth, and of his consummated happiness. Every aspiration of his soul bounds joyfully towards it, and he instinctively leaves the things that are behind to press forward. In the words before us, Christ does not touch such matters as these. It is not fore-_thought_ which is condemned, but fore-_boding_. II. Nor does He discountenance earnest activity in the duties of the present. Work is God's oldest law. It is only in wilful blindness or in unaccountable delusion that men can plead this teaching as an excuse for indolence. "If any man will not work, neither shall he eat." Work is often spoken of as a curse; but it is a blessing. With a Christian spirit, it may be gloriously consecrated. It links us in our activity with God who "worketh hitherto," and with Christ who worked His full day. III. Christ does not even condemn a legitimate forethought in connection with secular interests. There _is_ a legitimate forethought such as this. Nature teaches it. We must sow in order to reap. We must toil to-day for results which cannot come till to-morrow. "If any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an unbeliever." The faith to live by is that which prompts not to sitting down and doing nothing, but to trustful and persevering enterprise. Keep in mind the distinction between forethought and foreboding. It is forethought in a man which leads him to sow for a future harvest; it is foreboding that would fill his heart with fears that the harvest will be a bad one. Forethought is the grand distinction between the civilized and the savage; foreboding is the weakness of distrust. What the Lord bids us guard against, then, is conjectural brooding over the possible necessities of the future, and our possible lack of the resources required for their supply. "Taking thought" means giving way to anxiety--the constant occupation and worry of the heart in looking forward, gazing into, and dreading the possibilities of the days and years yet to come. "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." Be warned against forebodings of evil to-morrow. The lesson is, "Do the day's work as it is appointed by God; accept the day's mercy, bear the day's evil; and be not anxious about the evil which to-morrow may bring." How common a weakness--nay, rather let us say, how common a sin--this taking anxious thought for the morrow is! We see the lines of care in thousands of faces every day. Anxiety has marked its furrows round lips which every morning say, "Give us this day our daily bread." It is a calamity as well as a sin. It disturbs the heart, so that there can be no enjoyment of present mercies. It adds to the present the weight of an unknown but dreaded future. It paralyses religious feeling, and checks religious activity. It defeats its end by shortening the life it would fain prolong. Now Christ shows that this kind of anxiety reckons falsely, because it is founded on a false estimate of life; and He further shows that to gauge our position aright we must reckon according to the Divine thought respecting it. The whole of the teaching before us on this subject is perfectly plain, consisting of a few simple and obvious points. We cannot hope, indeed, to bring it within the understanding of the mere worldling. The man who has no filial confidence in God has no antidote for care. Anxiety can only be subdued in the heart of him who can look upward, and say, "Father, I trust in Thee!" What, then, is the first point? It is this, that God--the Author of our life, the Creator of our bodies--will surely give that which, however necessary, is yet less important and less valuable. In bringing us into existence, He has done more than He can do in giving to us any secular blessing which we can need. "Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?" We have our life from Him; our bodies are His handiwork. Why should we suspect that He will be indisposed to give us whatever may be needful for the existence thus created? Will He, by neglect, frustrate His own purpose? The greater gift can only be sustained and made valid by the lesser ones. Without food and raiment the body must decay, and its life must perish. God does not give imperfectly. Another point is this, that anxious care answers no good purpose. It is useless. If we could by means of it gain an exemption from future evil, common prudence would dictate it as a wise expedient. But it is not so. Christ puts this consideration very strongly. No amount of foreboding can add a single moment to our life, for the boundaries of our life have been fixed by God. The future is utterly unknown to us; and foreboding will not help us in the least degree to forecast its difficulties and its trials, though it may unfit us for the endurance of them. Whether we are cognizant of it or not, God will take His plan with us, and will carry it out. If we could not believe in the love that He hath towards us, the thought of this would be a dark sorrow; but, assured of His love as we _may_ be, we can also be assured that He will do all things well. At any rate, no over-anxiety of ours will facilitate the order of life we long for. "The morrow shall take thought for the things of itself." It will have anxieties enough of its own in spite of every effort of ours to set it free from them. Every day, to the end, will have its own "evil," and the "evil" of each day will require all our strength for coping with it. So that anxiety _for_ the morrow will not remove care _from_ the morrow; it will only take strength and joy from to-day. Trust in God, and all that He gives you of trouble for to-day will be accompanied by the gift of the strength necessary to enable you to bear it. But do not expect Him to give you strength to bear unnecessary sorrows--sorrows of your own making--the sorrows which spring from worldliness and unbelief. "As thy day"--the day that now is--"so thy strength shall be." A third point is, that, reasoning from analogy, we may be sure that God will provide for us. He feeds the birds, and He clothes the lilies. They can do nothing for themselves; yet how well are they provided for! "Are not ye much better than they?" A wonderfully simple, beautiful, and effective argument this! How grand the view it gives us of God's position in His universe! What knowledge must be His! What power! What vastness--what variety of resource! What minuteness of kindly, loving interest! Who would not gladly entertain such a conception of God and of His Providence as this, in preference to the atheism and the materialism which have intruded so grievously into the science of our times? "Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?... Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?" Thus, God is not content with giving what is simply necessary for life; He gives for _beauty_ also. Showing His goodness in such a manner to objects inferior to man, why should man suspect that the same goodness will be denied to _him_? Observe, that Christ does not teach that birds and flowers are better than men because of their immunity from toil. His meaning is, that creatures which do not and cannot toil--creatures which do not and cannot forecast the future--are clothed and fed; will God neglect the nobler creatures to whom He has given the power of thought, and whom He has put under the obligation to labour? Even with these higher powers, man is still as dependent as any of the inferior creatures around him. Will his needs be overlooked, while theirs are supplied? Such a question is all the more pertinent when we remember, that whilst they live for a day, he was created for eternity, and needs the special gifts which can shape his present life into a preparation and a discipline. An additional point is, that unholy anxiety is essentially ungodly, irreligious, unworthy of the position and the professions of a Christian man. "Take no thought," no anxious thought, "saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? _For after all these things do the Gentiles seek._" Anxious thought, therefore, is the characteristic of heathenism, and must be excluded from the religion which is true. It is the spirit of the world, not the spirit which is of God. We see this clearly enough when we compare the amount of thought and care which we bestow upon our earthly interests with that which we devote to the interests which are spiritual and eternal. What anxiety we give ourselves about the future of our health, the future of our business, the future of our worldly position, the future of our children's secular education, the future of their rank in society! Is it not ten times as great as that which we bestow upon our Christian consistency, our religious usefulness, our growth in grace? If we could hold the balance steadily, which would prove to be the preponderating scale? Our Lord puts the case in an indirect manner, no doubt; nevertheless, it is impossible to avoid the implied conclusion. That conclusion is this: "If you suffer yourself to be anxiously absorbed in earthly things, you rank yourself with 'the Gentiles,' to whom this world is all."--Besides, such anxiety is ungodly because it is _untrustful_. Heathens, who cannot blind themselves to the fact that their gods leave them for the most part, if not entirely, to themselves, may be excused if they feel that there is room, yea even necessity, for anxious foreboding. But how different should it be with those who know the one living and true God, and who can recognize Him as their Father! Surely He may be trusted as knowing His children, recognizing their needs, loving them, and tenderly caring for them. Taking anxious thought implies the weakness, if not the extinction, of faith.--Moreover, its impiety is seen in the fact that it is a practical subordination of the spiritual to the secular. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." Let the most important things have the first attention. Give due scope to the higher aspirations of the soul, and the lower ones will shrink into their due proportions, and will take their proper place. God will give the earthly as it is needed to those who first seek the heavenly, and the true spirit of religion will make us rich by making us content. To Christians this teaching, taking it as a whole, covers the entire ground of their secular life, and much more than that. Look at two or three samples of the cases to which it applies. 1. To personal secular positions. "What will the future be? Shall I live to be old? When I am old, shall I be provided for? Will health and strength be continued to me according to my years?" Leave that! Do your work _to-day_. For this you may have the needful strength from God. Do not trouble about anything further. Use prudently the means which God has put into your hands for providing for the future, and then commit their safe keeping to Him. If you have no such means, still trust. There are many promises on which you may implicitly and calmly rely. 2. "How about my children? Will they grow up to be manful, good, godly; a seed to serve the Lord, and a generation to call Him blessed; my comfort, my pride? Or will they take evil ways; prove, like so many more, vicious, ungodly, and bring down my grey hairs in sorrow to the grave?" Leave that! Do your duty to your children to-day. Train them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Use a wise and godly forethought on their behalf. Pray for them. Instruct them. Set before them a Christian example. You may trust the rest with God, calmly and thankfully expecting the fulfilment of the words: "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." 3. "What about my religious future? If I make a Christian profession, shall I be able to live consistently with it? Shall I have strength to resist temptation? What if I should fall? Can I so live as not to dishonour the Church and the cause of Christ?" Leave that! Nurse your Christian graces to-day. Lay up spiritual strength in reserve. That is required by a wise forethought. But having done so, leave the rest. God will take care of it all. You may stedfastly trust that He will gloriously complete the work which He has graciously begun. 4. "My Christian work--what about that? Shall I be permitted to go on with it for a few years longer, and thus to have some opportunity of realizing my ambition as a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ? Or shall I be called away comparatively early? And if so, what will become of all the plans and projects upon which I have expended so much thought and prayer and toil?" Leave that! Do your work to-day, and be not anxious about the rest. When to-day merges into to-morrow let the new to-day bring its own work with it, to be done in the day. Nothing more of solicitude than that is needful. You are not indispensable to God; nor are you essential to the work which by His will you are doing. If it be worth doing, and you be separated from it, He will find a suitable successor, or as many successors as the accomplishment of the work may require. 5. "How about the prosperity of the cause of Christ in the world? Will it go steadily forward, or will new and fiercer foes rise up against it?" Leave that! Do all you can for it whilst you are here, and entrust the rest, as you entrust your own work, to God. Do not hinder it by wasting time in forebodings which ought to be spent in service. 6. "What of death--my own death? Shall I have grace enough to support me when the time comes?" Leave that! No doubt you will; but do not be anxious about it. To-day you are "the living;" be "the living to praise the Lord," and trust the needs of your dying hour to Him. The words of Christ recorded in these verses must have startled His hearers. They taught new truth concerning life, and, beautiful as they were, the truth they taught was strange. It would have been so strange as to be without weight, if He had not first taught equally new and equally beautiful truth concerning God. How does Christ here speak of God? "Your heavenly Father." The heathen instructors had not taught that! Pharisees and Sadducees had not taught that! But Christ was now in the world; He had come forth from the Father, and He could say to men: "Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of these things." Thus the whole teaching of these verses on the subject of Providence and of Faith becomes plain and demonstrative. The great requirement is for us to love Him filially as He loves us paternally; and then, from that point, all is clear. We are dependent, but He will provide. There are present difficulties, and probably there will be future trials; but all takes the form of wise and holy discipline under His guiding and beneficent hand. How do we arrive at the conviction of the Fatherhood of God? Sin stands in the way, and conscience craves something more than a mere authoritative announcement. Sin is the forfeiture of all claim to the Divine favour. What right have we to expect that His providence will be to us a providence of love? There is but one answer: to trust a God of providence, we must believe in a God of grace. Paul puts the whole philosophy of this in a single sentence: "He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?" Our present subject, therefore, calls for the gospel, and cannot be completed without it. "Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world." "He that hath seen me hath seen the Father." And, "If ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him?" But let us ever remember that we have higher wants than those of the body. The soul needs food, and God has supplied "the bread of life"; it needs raiment, and God has given to us the robe of righteousness wrought by Christ; it needs a home, and we have "a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." With these provisions, then, shall we forecast the future with fear, or with hope? Which shall it be? O holy trust! O endless sense of rest, Like the beloved John, To lay my head upon the Saviour's breast, And thus to Journey on! XI. _CONTENTMENT._ "Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me."--Philippians iv. 11-14. My purpose is to define and to recommend the Christian virtue of contentment. I shall endeavour to show that its acquirement is a duty, and that its possession is a joy; but I shall also have to show that as a duty it is not practicable, and that as a joy it is not attainable, except on Christian grounds. I trust that all this will be made abundantly clear by the following observations. I. Let us glance at the character of the man whose words are now before us. There is in the words the ring of a high moral tone which is irresistibly attractive. Yet the effect they produce upon us must depend very much upon the kind of man who wrote them, and the condition or conditions of life through which he had to pass. We should be pained by such words as these if they came from the lips of a man whom the world would consider prosperous. When the conditions of a man's life are easy and comfortable, to make a profession of contentment would be an abuse both of language and of sentiment. Such a case is not one for content, but for devout and hearty gratitude mingled with a sense of humiliation under the thought, which ought to be present to every such man, that he deserves no more than others, though God gives him more than many others possess. We should think sadly of these words if they came from a stoical man. Contentment is not the listlessness of indifference. It is self-conscious, and finds in itself its own joy. Indifference is loss--deterioration. It implies the blunting of sensibility. The heart that is callous to grief is closed against gladness also. We should pity the man who uttered these words from mere weakness of character, devoid of aspiration, enthusiasm, or resolve. In his case, content would be mere good-for-nothingness. The world is full of uncomplaining men and women who do not cry, not because they are content, but because they are spiritless, and consequently because they are crushed down and hopeless. There are other circumstances which would disparage contentment. We will not mention them now; they will be suggested as we proceed. Now Paul was every way the kind of man to give the noblest meaning to the words we are considering. His whole constitution, make, rendered him susceptible of the highest earthly enjoyment. Mentally, morally, and socially, he was prepared to accept and to appreciate the best that this world could offer to him. He had great powers of thought, reflection, imagination, and will. He had great tenderness and generosity of heart. Proofs abound that his social instincts were full of life and strength. He was pre-eminently a man to be touched by kindness or unkindness, by gratitude or ingratitude, by love or hatred. And what was his experience? It was not the one-sided experience of a man who has known only one condition in life. On the contrary, he had been familiar with almost the highest and the lowest. On the one hand, he had enjoyed the love, and the tender, fervent gratitude, of many of his converts; and on the other hand, he could speak of the bad conduct, the ingratitude, and the vexatious opposition of others. He had the manifold sorrows of a martyr's life of bonds, imprisonments, scourgings, and stonings, to which must be added the prospect of a martyr's death. He was not a man of one kind of experience only, to which habit had accustomed him. He had known the terrible alternations of life, and had learned to be content under them all. "I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need." Moreover, Paul was a man of prodigious activity. Contentment is easy to a sluggish nature, but it must have been a difficult acquirement to one in whom brain, heart, hands, and all the powers of life were continually on the move. Couple with this incessancy of action the loftiness and ardour of his aspirations. He was not only capable of an intense enthusiasm in any work which he took in hand, but his whole impulse was an energetic straining forward and upward. These considerations give something of _marvellousness_ to the contentment which the apostle here avows for himself; and they suggest that it must have rested on some underlying conviction--some established condition of soul which it is desirable for us to discover and identify. The language he uses is in the utmost degree significant. There is no haste about it, nor is there any exaggeration. It is the expression of the result of a severe and protracted mental and moral training, under the influence of the Spirit of God. "I have _learned_." The lesson has been a difficult one, but I have mastered it. "_I_ have learned." The "I" is emphatic. "Whether others have learned the lesson or not, _I_ have learned it." The apostle does not speak either hesitatingly or slightingly of his attainment. Thus, when he says, "I know both how to be abased, and how to abound," he goes on to use a word which means, literally, "I have been taught the secret," "I have been initiated into the mysteries"--both of satisfaction and of hunger, both of plenty and of want. Such language implies that his contentment was one which had not been easily acquired. He had not passed into it by a single step only. I do not suppose the process was a very slow one, but it _was_ a process. The lesson had to be spelt out, word by word, often syllable by syllable, perhaps sometimes with tearful eyes and a bleeding heart. And so these words are a record of attainment such as this world cannot snatch. The man who could so speak of himself was in possession of the best knowledge. He had graduated and taken honours in the highest university. II. The practical importance of this lesson of contentment must be obvious to all. Two considerations will enable us to see its importance clearly. 1. Our earthly life is a scene of change. No position is secured to any of us in this world, nor is it in the power of any of us to remain always, and safe from molestation, in a coveted state of action, or of existence, or of enjoyment. Some men never get into a state of positive happiness, and, in the experience of many, the transitions from high to low positions are startling, romantic, painful, mysterious. Events which men call accidents are constantly changing the aspects of things, and certainly the most marked characteristic of our life is vicissitude. This is a truth which is known and recognized by all, and possibly it is one which is felt acutely by not a few who are here at this time. 2. The changes to which we are exposed are temptations to disquietude of heart, and consequently to discontent. This is true in a peculiar sense of those who look only to the present world for satisfaction, but it is also true to a certain extent of the Christian. And why? Partly because he is seldom perfectly free from unworldliness of desire and of hope; partly because he does not always read aright the meaning of his discipline, and keep in mind the truth that because it is Divine it must be always wise and good; and partly because he looks too much to "second causes," not only in disappointment and sorrow, but also in success and joy, forgetting the hand and the purpose of God. So that a Christian who has passed through the numerous and various vicissitudes of life, and whose faith, like a tree in successive storms, has gained strength from every blast--whose hopes have brightened while the clouds of life were lowering, and whose experience by discipline has become enlightened, rich, and mature--is one of the noblest, though, alas! one of the rarest, sights in the world. Such a man was Paul in a pre-eminent degree. Reverses did not sour him. He had often to contend against the hostile hand of his fellow man, but persecution did not embitter him. He could retain through all his absorbing interest in the salvation of human souls and in the glory of God. His troubles did not shut him up in himself. He did not always talk about them, as though he wanted everybody to pity and help him; on the contrary, he was a peculiarly brave and joyful man. He looked upon joy not simply as a possibility, nor simply as a privilege, but as a duty, the neglect of which by a Christian was shameful. He knew that whatever of earthly good might slip away from him, or be snatched away, there was something immeasurably better which was his for ever--God, Christ, immortality, heaven. "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?... Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." III. What has been said will help us to form a true idea of the state of mind which the apostle here avows for himself, and in doing so to avoid some mistakes. We have seen that contentment is neither stoicism, nor want of interest in life nor sluggishness of temperament, nor weakness of character. We further say, that Paul does not mean that he considers all conditions in life alike desirable, that there is nothing to choose between them, that it is altogether immaterial whether men be well or ill, strong or weak, rich or poor, high or low, masters or slaves. Paul was not insensible to the advantages of outward comfort, or to the disadvantages of poverty. Nor does he mean to teach that a Christian may not use all means which are intrinsically legitimate and right for improving his condition, in so far as he has those means at his command, or the possibility of obtaining them. What he means is that his happiness is not essentially dependent on external circumstances. An illustration of Solomon's words, "A good man is satisfied from himself," he carries within him everywhere the elements of his own well-being. So that being the man he is, being the man God has made him to be, being the man whom the Holy Spirit is fashioning by His grace, through the instrumentality of the discipline of life, with a hope that does not make him ashamed, because he has the love of God shed abroad in his heart by the Holy Ghost given unto him--he is happy enough even in the midst of privations and difficulties. His contentment is not indifference to his work, but industrious fidelity. It is not the narcotizing of aspiration; for a man may ardently aspire, and yet be content until it is time to rise. Still less is it complacency with his own moral and spiritual condition, or with that of the world around him; for he says that he "forgets the things that are behind, and reaches forth to the things that are before," and he "greatly longs after men in the bowels of Jesus Christ." But with all his appreciation of life's comforts, with all his aspirations after personal perfection, and with all his longings to be useful in his day, he is not disconcerted by difficulties and disadvantages;--he has learned in whatsoever state he is, therewith to be content. We must guard ourselves, however, from applying this example of contentment to troubles of our own making. God entrusts every man, more or less, with the means of blessing himself, and of maintaining his own honour among his fellow men. But by sin, or by mistakes of conduct arising from a culpable carelessness, we may lose our position of advantage; and when we do so, we are not entitled to the comfort arising from the thought that, as all events are in God's hands, we must just take things as they come, and be satisfied! The sin which has brought mischief must be deplored; its consequences must be accepted as a Divine correction, and Divine help must be sought so that the chastisement may be sanctified. And if on the lower ground we become less worldly, holier, and more Christ-like, God will have the greater glory and will give the deeper peace. IV. And now for the secret of the apostle's contentment, and the lessons that we are to learn therefrom for ourselves. Paul says, "I can do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me." The language is peculiar; what does it mean? It means that, in whatsoever condition he might be, he had Christ for a Helper and a Friend; that Christ's companionship with him was constant, full, tender; that His sympathy was great, minute, comprehensive, cheering, exalting, all-sufficient. So complete was his identification with Christ that he tells these Philippians that living or dying he was Christ's. But how did this come about? Once he persecuted the Christ whom he now glorifies. And even now his happiness has nothing of the _miraculous_ in it. It does not belong to him merely as an apostle, or in the same way as his "inspiration" or other special, supernatural gifts with which he is endowed. It is the work of God's grace--grace imparted to him through the same channels along which it may come to us. The secret is this: Paul was a Christian--a converted, regenerated man, a believer in Christ, under the influence of the Holy Ghost; and the result was accomplished by such simple means as faith and hope and prayer. Paul had felt, as we all feel, that there is in man a soul as well as a body, an eternal life as well as a temporal. He had also felt, as we all feel, that he was a sinner, condemned and hopeless before that holy law which he had broken, and the judgment of which he must one day meet. But, in obedience to the message of the gospel, he had accepted Christ as his Saviour, through whom he had received the forgiveness of sins, Divine sonship, and sanctifying grace. So that he had to regard himself as henceforth under training for heaven, the training administered by a Divine hand. He knew that the present life, with all its changes, was the thing that was wanted for his spiritual education, that nothing was accidental, that no changes were chances, and that all changes made up one great organized system of discipline, in which "all things were working together for good." Thus he could cherish in his heart a contentment which would cover all his experiences. There are ills which certain men can bear patiently, but a Christian contentment learns to bear all ills cheerfully; unmurmuring and acquiescent when sorrows multiply, and when mercies one by one are taken away. This contentment under Christian conditions is a duty, not perhaps of very easy attainment--Paul himself does not say that it is that--but it is a duty, as being the natural fruit of faith and trust. Every Christian should be able to say: I will not cloud the present with the past, Nor borrow shadows from a future sky: 'Tis in the present that my lot is cast, And ever will be through eternity. "Sufficient to the day the present ill," Was kindly utter'd by a heavenly Voice, And one inspired to tell his Master's will Hath bid us alway in the Lord rejoice. XII. _JOY._ "Rejoice in the Lord alway; and again I say rejoice."--Philippians iv. 4. Whatever may be the impression produced by these words, no one can read them attentively, and be indifferent to the admonition they convey. They speak to our most real life, a life of mingled sunshine and shadow; and they speak in the name of a religion which is divinely holy and solemn. They have a marvellous power in awakening feeling, and if we could but know the emotion they excite in each of us, we should find them to constitute a perfect test of our actual experiences, as well as of our religious condition. In any religious assembly, there must of necessity be two widely different states of feeling. Some souls are happy, and others are depressed. To the first class, the words before us come with sweetness, adding joy to joy; to the second, they come with pain, the pain of contrast and of longing. Hence the question might be asked, "To whom are they addressed? Are they spoken to the happy alone? Must they be suppressed when we speak to the sad or to the miserable?" They are addressed neither to the one class alone, nor to the other alone. They were spoken to _all_ hearts in the Philippian church, without distinction of condition; and without distinction they are also spoken to us. If there be any special stress in them at all, it is when they are addressed to the sorrowing, as we shall see by-and-by. The words themselves supply a hint as to how this may be. The joy that is recommended is "_joy in the Lord_." It is therefore a Christian joy; and those to whom the apostle recommends it, whatever may be the diversity of their circumstances, are first of all, last of all, anyhow, under any condition, Christians. Paul knows that joy is an inevitable consequence of the possession of true Christianity in the heart, that it is the natural outcome of Christian faith, that it ought to be a pervading experience of the Christian soul through all the forms and circumstances of its life. And so he offers the same exhortation to all. Nor is it a recommendation merely: it is a command, and it strikingly takes its place among the great Pauline precepts. For the proof of this, turn to these precepts as we have them at the close of his first epistle to the Thessalonians. (See chap. v. 14-22.) No one will suppose for a moment that the exhortation to rejoice can be applied in any sense to unbelieving men, to men of the world, to the ungodly. Granting that they have a joy peculiarly their own, it is of such a nature, and is so conditioned by the life of every day, that it would be cruel to bid them "rejoice _evermore_." The worldling has too many disappointments, struggles, and cares, for a permanent and unbroken joy such as that. He may think himself fortunate for rejoicings that come now and then! Besides, how could Paul recommend a rejoicing which is not "in the Lord," which is the only rejoicing possible to the unbeliever? Paul's joy is consistent with every duty of the religion he preached; but to that religion the unbeliever is opposed. His rejoicing cannot be acceptable to the Lord. It is spurious. It has no true, substantial source. To such a man the apostle might rather have said, "Weep!" Christian joy is an inheritance closely fenced around; and hard as it seems to enjoy any good things in which others cannot share, we must say, "Unbelieving men and women, it is not for you." The way here is through the strait gate, and along the narrow road. No joy can be "joy in the Lord" which does not contain the following elements-- 1. _Purity._ The objects that excite it must be pure. It must be free from all carnality and from all sin; it must spring from the soul's sympathy with God, with His truth, with His goodness. Holy in its objects, it becomes a sanctifying power. 2. _Calmness._ It is freedom from turmoil of heart, from disquietude of life. It suffuses our feeling and our conduct with peace--peace that "flows like a river." Hence, it is the condition of a quiet, steady Christian experience. 3. _Seriousness._ It does not depend on self-forgetfulness, or on a forced thoughtlessness. It is deepest in the most reflective, and is strengthened in all by an honest and habitual self-examination. 4. _Humility._ There is a sort of arrogance and self-sufficiency in worldly joy. Christianity puts man in his true place, and teaches him to refer all his peace to God. 5. _Love._ Love to man and to God; the latter as the natural effect of gratitude, the former from deep pity for his spiritual destitution, or from sympathy in a common experience of happiness. 6. _Permanence._ It is not a fitful, occasional, moody thing. Secondary sources of joy may fail, but God, the primary Source and Giver of all joy, remains; and the relationship between the believer and Him abides, so that the grounds of peace and of hope are everlasting. Now it is clear that these are not the elements of a worldly joy. We do not care to reduce all that joy to a common level, and to say that it is invariably and equally destitute of all these qualities of purity, calmness, seriousness, humility, love, permanence. It is enough to say that it is not "joy in the Lord." It does not consciously or actually spring from Him; it is not maintained by communion with Him; and it does not pay to Him its tribute of love, consecration, and praise. This exhortation to Christian joy is one of the most common in the writings of Paul. Happy Christians may wonder why it is repeated so often. Why urge it at all? Is it not the first, the necessary, the constant result of faith? Why specially insist upon it as a duty? If faith be weak, give us reasons by which faith may be strengthened; but, once in the conscious possession of eternal life and of peace with God, let the results naturally follow. Are they not sure to come? One would suppose so; but, alas! Paul knew, and we have reason to know, that we are very inconsistent! There is often a divorce between our professed beliefs and the results that should flow from them. Then, too, our faith is often unconsciously held. It is too merely traditional; it lacks freshness and vitality. We may well, therefore, be thankful that God, who has given us such motives for joy, should still recommend it to us. Even with a very sincere faith may circumstances arise which shall trouble our hearts. Our joy is constantly threatened, and almost unconsciously we sometimes come to feel that we have none. I know many Christians of whom the last thing we could affirm would be that they are joyful Christians. Hence the exhortation. It takes the form of a command. Why? 1. We owe it to the love and mercy of our God. Joy is the sign, the expression, and the ornament of gratitude. A faith without joy is an altar without perfume. God's abounding grace realised in the heart demands this return. If we be not joyful, what does the fact mean? Do we lightly esteem His great love? Are we afraid it may fail? 2. Joy is a means of _testifying_ our gratitude. Without joy, faith is barren and inefficient, or else its fruits are rare and without savour. The gospel represents good works as the fruits of faith, and fruits grow not on the trunk, but on the branches; and joy is one of these. A worldly joy gives vigour to the heart in the pursuit of worldly objects. Christian joy prompts the heart to devotedness to God. 3. The world is mightily influenced by our joy. The idea that religion is a sad, gloomy thing is widely spread, and is a hindrance in the way. Men know that our beliefs ought to produce joy, and, if they fail to do so, they become themselves discredited. A true Christian is really at the source of all true joy. The world yields him most because he is nearest heaven. _Joy is a proselyting power._ 4. True joy cannot be imitated. The world's gaiety is the effect of temperament and circumstances, not of reflection; it repudiates and shrinks from thought. Christian joy deepens the more thoughtful men become. The grounds on which it rests are felt to be the surer the more they are examined. Let us look at one or two more of the characteristics of Christian joy. 1. It does not avoid contact with men, but it can, if need be, live alone. It can flourish in the heart that is alone with itself and with God, and can find its food in meditation and prayer. It blossoms where other joys fade. 2. It is devout. It loves the places where its Author is worshipped, but it can sing its praises everywhere. The heart in which it resides is a temple. It sings even in the midst of cares and tribulations, like Paul and Silas in the midnight gloom of the prison at Philippi. 3. It is at the furthest remove from frivolity. It rejoices in serious things, even in such serious things as sorrow and death. It looks up and on with hope. It rests in God. It knows that Christ, its Source, can never be separated from it. It thinks itself rich enough in the possession of God's great love. 4. It triumphs over the hindrances by which all other joy is thwarted. As to remembrances of the past, all that needed to be forgiven _is_ forgiven. As to actual trouble, it can take hold of God. As to forecasts of the future, _that_, in its truest blessedness, is secure. Who would not be a Christian? And who, being a Christian, can refuse to be glad? Eternal Source of Life and Light, From whom my every blessing flows, How shall my lips extol aright The bounty that no measure knows? Sweet are the gifts Thou dost accord; Still best when best we love Thy ways: But one yet add, all bounteous Lord, And teach me as I would to praise. To praise Thee ofttimes with my tongue; To praise Thee ever with my heart; And soon, where heavenly praise is sung, Oh, let me take my blissful part! Then, Lord, not one of all the host That hymn Thy glory round the Throne, How e'er exalted there, shall boast A strain more fervent than mine own. XIII. _SICKNESS._ "Lord, behold, he whom Thou lovest is sick."--John xi. 4. Much contact with sickness of late has set me thinking about it; about the place it occupies in the Divine dispensations of our life, and the lessons it may teach. The subject will find an easy entrance into our meditations. Most of us have known what sickness is, and all of us have in prospect that which will prove to be our last. In all the sorrow that affects the people of God there is more or less of mystery, which deepens in proportion as those who suffer become mature in their Christian life, and advanced in holiness. Yet there are some obvious truths in relation to it which are not hard to discern, and to some of these it will be profitable to turn our thoughts now. I. Sickness, in common with all our ills, is a solemn witness to the existence of sin. If we trace it back to its first cause, we shall find it to have originated in "the transgression of the law." It would be contrary both to the letter and to the spirit of the gospel to see in each sickness the direct result of a particular sin. Yet cases of this kind are not so rare as we suppose. Many men, even professing Christians, suffer in consequence of sins known only to God and to themselves; secret luxuries and excesses, or a trifling, perhaps half unconscious, with some of the simplest laws of Nature. Let not this be altogether overlooked. Moreover, whilst we are not at liberty to suppose an immediate connection between some particular sickness and some particular sin, there is a general connection between sin and suffering. There would have been no sickness in the world if there had been no sin. There was none in Eden: there will be none in heaven. Sickness is a witness to the disorder which sin has created. The Christian is a forgiven man, but the secondary consequences of sin remain. In a sinful world, the sins of others react upon him in various ways. He himself, though forgiven, is not yet perfect. There will always be enough of the sense of sin even in the most devout heart, to bend the sufferer in humiliation beneath the thought that in a thousand ways he has deserved the discipline of sorrow. II. Sickness, however, affords equal testimony to the love of God. The Christian has ample reason for knowing that it is a Father's hand that smites, and that the blow is tempered with gentle mercy. We suffer less than many have suffered before: less than many are suffering now. The Old Testament gives us some notable examples of suffering--Job, David, etc.; so also does the New Testament--Paul, for instance. And what were the sufferings of these compared with those of Christ, who wept and bled and died, not for Himself, but for us? In all ages better men than we have suffered more. Consider what we have deserved, and what, but for the mercy of God, we must have had to bear. If the sufferings of life are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to follow, neither are they worthy to be compared with the doom which _must_ have followed, if God had not loved us with an infinite and everlasting love. Nor is it beneath the subject to mention the alleviations which are granted to us, and which we must all trace to the Divine Hand--sleep, the suspension of pain, sympathy, and, most of all, the hopes of the gospel. These are common-place considerations, but we must entertain them, if our gratitude and trust are to be strong and simple. But we must enter into particulars a little further for the sake of evolving truth still more immediate and personal. III. Sickness is often a special grace from God, and is a providential answer to the secret desires of our own souls. Not, indeed, the answer we ask, or the answer we expect; rather, indeed, the answer we would gladly avoid: but still an answer. The cardinal want of man is salvation. Who does not know that sickness has often been sanctified to that end? The cardinal want of the Christian is sanctification--preparedness for heaven; and every Christian knows how seriously this is impeded by a crowd of difficulties, real enough, but which we have a propensity to exaggerate; generally, the daily occupations and cares of life--a family to be provided for, a competency to gain, favourable opportunities to be looked for and seized, daily mischances, and the like. Meanwhile we are conscious of our spiritual wants, and there is a painful conflict between the claims which are temporal, and those which are spiritual. How many Christians are living a life of absorption in the world, yet harassed with occasional regrets, fears, desires, connected with better things? To these sickness is a Divine reply. It is as though God said: "Dear child, I know thy difficulty. Thou canst not of thine own determination leave the world; come away now. Leave thy labour, thy anxiety, thy dreams. Shut out from the world's noise, listen to Me, to thy soul, to heaven, to eternity. Not that thou mayest do thy duty less faithfully do I thus check thee, but that thou mayest learn the true subordination of things to one another; not the spiritual to the temporal, but the temporal to the spiritual. That is why I put this affliction upon thee." Oh, verily, blessed is sickness when viewed from the station where we rest and refresh in the fevered journey of life--a truce after battle, a parenthesis in life's tale, into which God puts His own deep-meaning and gentle word. Let us remember this for our brethren's sakes and for our own. IV. Sickness, as a special proof of God's love, is charged with a mission to bring to us some special gifts and graces. It is above all things a means of blessing when we associate with it the idea of discipline, however stern. There is not a single Christian virtue that may not acquire strength on a bed of sickness, and there are not a few Christian virtues which probably must be learnt there, if they are ever to be learnt perfectly at all. Among these note the following: 1. _Patience._ This is specially the fruit of sorrow. No soul can know what patience is until it has learnt what suffering is. To this effect Paul and James both teach, putting suffering before the Christian as a veritable cause of joy because it produces patience. How many elements in sickness would be aggravated by the absence of this beautiful grace! How quickly we come to feel that all worry is useless, and that we must simply wait the good pleasure of the Lord! How commonly too, the existence of this virtue strikes the beholder. It is not apathy, it is not stoicism; it is submission. When the sickness is past there will still remain much in life to try us; but if we have learnt the lesson, we shall know how to apply it. 2. _Entire dependence upon God._ This is sometimes hard to realize in days of health and vigour, but in days of sickness we feel that the sentiment is impressed upon us with especial weight. We know that it is He who casteth down and lifteth up. We use means for recovery, and this is right; but we learn that without His blessing the best and the most skilfully applied of these are of no avail. This sense of dependence on God should be the habit of the mind; and having acquired it in sorrow we shall not repudiate or forget it in joy. 3. _Unworldliness._ In a sickness which is protracted, and the issue of which is uncertain, we learn to put the proper estimate on things. We find and we feel that we have here no true home and no true satisfaction, and that we must look above. At such a time we perceive that the _real_ is the _spiritual_ and the _eternal_. As we groan in this tabernacle, we obtain our true relief in the contemplation of things unseen. 4. _The confidence of faith._ The possible issues of our sickness are momentous, and the question comes: "Of what quality are my hopes? Is the religion that has given me joy and strength in health able to support me now?" And how often the blessed answer is "Yes!" God gives us strength equal to our day. The Father's smile, the presence of the Saviour, simple trust in the Cross--these are realized as they never have been before. And if health should return, it will be with the calmly, soberly delightful feeling of a religion in the heart that has stood the test. This is the experience of not a few whom I have known. All this has a mighty influence on others besides the sufferers themselves. They preach, and preach effectively, through their sorrow and the grace by which they bear it, and get blessing out of it. Thus their sickness becomes an occasion on which, an instrumentality by which, God conveys the blessings of His grace to their brethren. To all of us, whether in sickness or in health, the subject suggests some important lessons. It suggests thankfulness for such health as we have. Others are suffering: why not we? Multitudes are languishing in pain to-day; most of us are well. Let us bless God, and seek His grace that we may use this gift of health, with all His other gifts, to His glory. It suggests sympathy for those who suffer. How dependent they are on our kindness, our gentleness, our love. Let us give it to them in full measure. Specially, let us give expression to our sympathy for them by prayer on their behalf. It suggests faithfulness to the vows made in the time of our trouble. How much holier would all of us be to-day if none of those vows had been forgotten! XIV. _JESUS ONLY._ "And when they had lifted up their eyes, they saw no man, save Jesus only."--Matthew xvii. 8. The visible glory has vanished; Moses and Elias have disappeared; the cloud is gone; the Voice has been heard; and Jesus has assumed again the form of His lowliness. A few moments ago Peter, in a half-unconscious ecstasy, was saying: "Lord, it is good for us to be here: if Thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles; one for Thee, one for Moses, and one for Elias." And now they are coming down from the mountain to the turmoil at its foot, and they who wished to tabernacle so gloriously above must descend again to their fishing-nets below. The change seems sudden and sad. We feel inclined to exclaim, "What a loss!" But though they come down, Jesus is with them. Herein lies the substance of what I want now to develop. Our life has its resting-places, exposed to startling, rude alternations; but it has also, in the midst of all, its grand solace. I. The first of these truths is one of such common experience, that we have no need to do more in support of it than to point to well-known facts. I shall try to generalize them by referring merely to three points. 1. To our external personal circumstances. Sometimes we are prosperous, cheerful, happy. We say, "The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage." Incidents occur which seem to transform our ordinary life. We succeed in our pursuits. We are in health. Our domestic happiness is undisturbed. We have been delivered from impending ill, and, instead of suffering what we have feared, we realize more than we have hoped for. We are thankful; we are content; and we want to build our tabernacle on the green mount of our prosperity. May we not indulge this feeling without any suspicion that our prosperity may too much absorb and unspiritualise us? But the time for disenchantment comes, and if we have grace enough in our hearts, we find that a drawback is put in the way of our fancied happiness, the tendency of which is proving a strong temptation to worldliness. And then, though we do not court reverses--for they, too, have their temptations--we begin to feel that this position of fancied happiness is not so perfect as we thought. Besides, the novelty passes away, and the satisfaction becomes less. We had forgotten our higher needs whilst we were absorbed in our external well-being. And so we come to acknowledge once more that this is not our rest. Sometimes, too, a veritable reverse takes place; like the disciples, we have to come down from the mount. The alternations of grief, disappointment, and care follow our joy, and we get a further confirmation of the truth that there is no resting-place to be found in any of the circumstantials of life. 2. To our intercourse with men. We have reason to be thankful for all the blessing which reaches us through this channel, and especially so for all sanctified human relationships. To men of confiding, generous natures, it is natural to repose in their contact with certain of their fellow creatures. Some of our brethren wield a marvellous charm over us. We trust their character; we are not conscious of their defects; we are entirely at home with them. But here, again, we find that we must come down from the mount. It would be a sad story if we could all tell our surprises and disappointments in this matter. How many apparently beautiful friendships have passed away! How many defects have we discovered in those whom we have implicitly trusted, when we have been brought into a closer acquaintance with them? How many have others discovered in us? Do we not see here one reason why men become cynical and misanthropic? The greater the confidence, the greater the subsequent distrust. The greater the joy, the deeper the grief which has followed it. Let us thank God for the friendships that abide; but let us remember that human love can never be a perfect resting-place for our hearts. 3. To our Christian feeling. In the early days of our Christian life especially, and often afterwards, all seems to be "transfigured" before our eyes. We see a new earth and a new heaven. We breathe a life-giving atmosphere as we ascend the hills from whence cometh our help. Moses and Elias--the law and the prophets--have undergone the same transformation. Desires which are earthly have given place to desires which are spiritual. We seem to be in closest contact with the Saviour, and we pity the small pre-occupations of the world. We say, "Let us build here our tabernacle, and rest." But changes await us! First the heights, then the depths! To-day, the unutterable words from heaven; to-morrow, the thorn in the flesh and the messenger of Satan to buffet! The one is not without the other. Hence the lesson comes home to us: "Do not depend too much on your heart-states." These high joys seldom last long. Jesus, so to speak, loses His splendour, and comes down again from the mount, as a man, to His humiliation. II. The facts I have adverted to are such as only experience teaches. The prosperous and the immature may suppose that I take too gloomy a view of life. By no means. Life has brought its trials to me; and, like many others, I have been again and again on the mount to come down afterwards into the valley. And, were it not for one crowning consideration, there has been enough of change to some of us to make us sad and gloomy enough. What has prevented it? _This, that Jesus has come down from the mount along with us._ We have learnt to prize Him in proportion as we have learnt the deceptiveness of all beside! As Jesus humbled Himself, so He humbles His own. He wants us to walk by faith, not by sight, nor by sentiment. What should we become on our Tabor, if we were allowed to build our tabernacles there? Certainly proud; perhaps foolish; perhaps self-sufficient. Paul was in danger of being exalted above measure by the glory of the revelations which came to him; have we any reason to be more certain of ourselves? The greater the height the more destructive the fall. We might also mistake religious ecstasies for religious firmness or religious growth. Yes, the true discipline is that which makes us come down. All this looks like the disenchantment of our cherished illusions. What have we to put in their place? Man does not live alone by what is taken away from him, but by what is given to him. Have we taken away all? Have we given nothing? We read that a Voice came out of the cloud, saying, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye Him.... And when the disciples had lifted up their eyes, they saw no man, save Jesus only." What does that teach us? It teaches that out of these ecstasies, which often hide the reality, there comes a gift of God more precious than all--_Jesus Himself_. Whatever form He may assume, He is still the same; still the same whether He goes up the mountain with us, or comes down with us from the mountain. Our illusions vanish, but Jesus does not disappear. It is to Him that God directs us when the dreams of life are gone. Events deceive us, men change, the joy of our own hearts subsides; but these things happen that we may lift up our eyes and see Jesus only. And so the illusions which depart give place to a permanent good. Do not be afraid to descend from the mountain-tops into the low valleys which lie beneath. Neither height nor depth need separate from the love of Christ. A mighty and gracious Hand guides you, whether you see it or not. Lay hold of it with confidence. Though your ecstacies vanish, the great gain of your faith will be a sober, deep repose. Do not confound this repose with a want of life or of interest. A staid, strong, sober Christian is a man who has learnt in whatsoever state he is therewith to be content. A staid, strong, sober Christian is one who can do all things through Christ, who is ever near and ever strengtheneth. Is not such a condition a blessed one? It is that which gives to faith its permanence and its calm. Instead of ascending to heaven and descending to the abyss to find Christ, we find Him here, and remain with Him in peace and assurance. Having found Him, and being united to Him, we may, if need be, do without the rest. On the mount and in the plain we have the same Saviour. In any case, our hearts are on a sure foundation. The tabernacles Peter wanted to erect on Tabor let us erect in the valley. Let us keep near to Jesus; near to His law, near to His promises, but emphatically near to Him. This, too, will be a transfiguration, the transfiguration of our common life. The light of the Divine glory will shine about us; and in the light, and out of the cloud, the Voice will speak. We shall tabernacle with Moses and Elias only above; but we may tabernacle with Jesus below. Let us tabernacle with Him most at the cross; for it is there that we shall find most of our holiness and our hope. XV. _PRAYER._ "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened."--Matthew vii. 7, 8. Prayer is one of the vital elements of the Christian life. It mingles with its first impulses; it is the secret of every step in its development, the hidden germ of the grain of mustard-seed, the sap that nourishes the growing and the perfected tree from the furthermost fibres of its roots to the topmost shoot of its branches. A sapless tree is not a living one, but dead; a prayerless Christian cannot be. As might have been expected, the New Testament is remarkably plain in its teaching on this subject of prayer. The difficulties connected with it which exist in our minds are not difficulties which it creates or even sanctions. A simple reverence for its utterances is almost all that we need for their removal. Let us inwardly pray for this while we study the question now. The form in which our Lord presents His exhortation in the text is interesting and suggestive. He uses three words--"ask," "seek," "knock," which seem to intimate a gradation, and to lead up to a climax. The word "ask" indicates the felt want of a good which may be obtained; not purchased, but obtained as a free gift. The word "seek" indicates the continuance of the asking, with the added idea, perhaps, that our need is our fault, and that what we seek has been previously lost. The word "knock" supposes a difficulty in obtaining, the delay of the answer, a blessing shut up, and not immediately forthcoming. Here, then, is a hint of possible difficulties. Nevertheless, a promise is annexed, which is all-sufficient. "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." Christ's word is assurance enough for us; but He condescends to append an argument drawn from a comparison between man and God, between imperfect earthly parents and the infinitely perfect Father in heaven; an argument which ought to be conclusive. "What man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him?" The facts as they lie open on the surface of the text are among the most solemn and momentous facts of our life and thought. There is a God, holding in the universe a position which is exclusively His own, the great and only Giver of all good. Man's position is one of dependence; in no sense is he self-sufficient. As it is God's prerogative to give, so it is man's duty and interest to ask. There is a possibility of communion between Him who gives and him who needs; the hand of want brought into contact with the hand that supplies. Then we have the fact that God is both able and willing to satisfy man's want out of His own fulness. Further, we have the tender solicitation to trust on our part--the absolute promise that such trust can never be misplaced--and the encouraging assurance that the God who gives is moved towards His creatures who ask by all the sympathies of a Divine Fatherhood. Every ground of the confidence that children have in their parents is consolidated into a rock of immovable repose when the Heavenly Father comes in question. These facts enter into the common substance of our Christian belief and thought. As Christians, we never deny and never dispute them. We hold them in a measure unconsciously till the crises of life bring them into prominence. But they are inconceivably marvellous. As mere conceptions they are grand; as realized grounds of hope they are inexpressibly helpful. They are full of greatness and tenderness. Each of us may say to himself: "My soul, with all thy manifold infirmities and littlenesses, thou canst pray to the great God! Ay, thou canst come to Him as to an infinite Father!" Surely that is distinction and consolation enough. Comparatively few Christians, however, understand prayer as they should--either as a duty or as a privilege. With tens of thousands amongst them it is to a great extent an unappreciated boon. Even many devout Christians--anxious to use it to more effect--have their difficulties. I want to offer some help to such as these. The scope of prayer, unanswered prayer, delayed answers, etc., all are subjects of anxious questioning. I. Prayer, according to the teaching of Scripture and of experience, is a simple transaction of asking and receiving. It indirectly serves other ends, as we shall see shortly; but it is first of all, and all through, just what I have stated. We pray because we want; we pray in order to get what we want; and we pray with the feeling that we shall not get it unless we pray. There is no mystery in such a view as this. The transaction between the Christian and God, involved in prayer as thus described, is as natural, as simple, as well defined, and as easily understood, as the action of a child when it asks its parents for what it needs, and when its parents give what it needs in answer to the asking. The holy men of Scripture understood prayer in this way. Their prayers are full of simplicity, both as to their structure and their spirit. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Samuel, Elijah, all simply asked for such blessing as they felt they needed; asked for the sake of receiving, and feeling that the reception of what they wanted was dependent upon their asking. They unquestionably believed in an invisible Hand, and felt that the Heart that guided that Hand delighted to be trusted and appealed to in every, and for every, kind of human need. II. The simplicity of their view of the _nature_ of prayer is no greater than that of the view they took of the _scope_ of prayer. A feeling has grown up in the minds of many that we cannot ask with confidence for temporal blessings, and that the only blessings for which we may be sure that it is right to ask are those which are spiritual. But that was not the idea of the praying men of the past. There was not a blessing, material or spiritual, for which they hesitated to pray--life, health, food, rain, fruitful seasons, success in battle, peace of soul, forgiveness of sins, strength for holy work--all these, and indiscriminately as to any special privilege attached to the prayer for one or another. Just so taught Christ. "The Lord's Prayer" asks not only for the glory of God and the forgiveness of trespasses, but also for "daily bread." These considerations must neither be misunderstood nor overlooked. Prayer is a direct, specific, simple act. Men say that well-wishing, right-living, work, and such like, are prayer. Not so. A prayerful spirit may be, and ought to be, blended with the whole of our life; but we must not so shade off the act into something else as to take away its point and its reality. Prayer is the concentration of the soul upon its present need, whatever that may be, and then bringing it to God, naked and undisguised, for Him to meet it. The faith that prompts and backs up such prayer hangs every circumstance of life, the most minute and the most momentous alike, on the direct and immediate control of God, in whose great foresight all our little plans are lost, and in whose hands we become the instruments of our own well-being. III. It is demanded by such a view of prayer as that which has now been given, that we should confidently expect the answers to our petitions. This seems a simple, trite thing to say; but it is here especially that we fail. The attitude of looking for answers to prayer is not a common one. How is this? Partly because our prayers are often so vague that we do not know precisely what to expect; partly because the habit of prayer is largely formal--a mere piece of religious routine; sometimes because we misapprehend the form in which the answer may come; and sometimes because, in impatience, we lose heart and hope. We should ever remember, however, that the promise to hear and to answer is positive and unrestricted. This fact leaves ample room for the truth, which we should also ever remember, that the mode and time of the answer remain with God, and must be left to His loving wisdom. If He should see that what we ask will strengthen our faith in Him, bring our hearts nearer to Him, and help us to fulfil His will, He will grant the answer directly, and in the form in which we look for it. He has done so in numberless cases. Sometimes He does so in special and unmistakeable instances, of which, perhaps, George Müller and his orphanage is the most prominent in our time. On the other hand, if He should see that an answer of this kind would encourage worldliness, or in any way lead to evil, as it might sometimes do, then He will delay the answer, or will change its form into one of greater safety for us, at the same time speaking with His "still small voice" words of peace to our hearts. One thing is certain; namely, that if the worldly advantage be first in our view, it will be well for our prayer to be denied, and God will deny it. IV. One condition, then, of answered prayer is that we must be loyal to God, and this loyalty includes submission to His will--a willingness to receive, and a willingness to be denied. We may ask what we will in such a spirit as this; for in such a spirit we shall be sure that any refusal from Him will be a blessing to ourselves. V. One difficulty in relation to prayer of which anti-christian people make much, and which often occurs even to the most devout, is as to how these specific answers to prayer can be made to agree with the regularity of God's laws and the order of His Providence. This question introduces us to a mystery which we cannot hope fully to solve. We have no idea that prayer alters either the perceptions or the will of God; neither do we imagine that it interferes with natural laws, so as to prevent their due and natural operation. The operations of nature are often affected by the human will, both directly and indirectly; yet no one supposes that to that extent the order of nature is disturbed. Why may not the influence of the human will upon nature act through the medium of prayer to the great Author of nature, as well as in any other way? No objection of this kind lies against prayer which does not equally lie against all human enterprise; yea, even against the daily work by which we live! It is a sufficient reply to every objection of this kind that it is founded in a philosophy of fatalism. Surely if man, within the limits of his power, can use nature for himself, God, whose power is infinitely greater, can use nature for him, if He be pleased on any terms to do so; and there is no more interference with the order of nature in the Divine use of it than there is in the human. Prayer may have its part to play in the great system of causation as well as work. It may be a part of the foreseen chain of causes and effects by which God unfolds His eternal purposes. The good order of a family is not disturbed by the margin given to the children's wishes and requests; and when we are wise enough to know, we shall see how it has been even so in the greater family of God. God is love before we pray as well as when He answers; and yet it may be according to His will, because it is according to His beneficent wisdom, that there shall be many blessings unreceived by us until we ask for them. VI. How do these thoughts bear upon the subject of importunity in prayer? Such importunity is not discountenanced, but rather encouraged, by the very form of our Lord's exhortation. "Ask; seek; knock." I have said that this series of words intimates a gradation, and constitutes a climax. Seeking is more than asking; knocking is more than asking or seeking. "Ask and ye shall receive." Yes, but the "asking" which is to be followed by receiving may be such as to include both "seeking" and "knocking." God is not reluctant to hear and to answer; but that is no reason why He should not require sometimes to be importuned. Christ gives His special sanction to this importunity through the medium of two parables, both of which were spoken for the express purpose of urging it. The first of these is the parable of the man who disturbs the repose of his friend at midnight for the purpose of obtaining from him the means of showing hospitality to an unexpected wayfarer; the second is the parable of the injured widow and the unjust judge. In both these parables, the suppliants are represented as prevailing; but the point to be noted is that the power by which they prevail is their earnest and persistent importunity. Why does Christ illustrate prayer to God by the pertinacity which is needful to arouse the affections of sinful man? We may be sure that He does not ascribe any thing of human imperfection to God. Our Father in heaven slumbers not, and is never weary. He is love. Christ simply puts Himself in the feeling of the man who knows by experience that God often delays the fulfilment of prayer, and shows, by parabolic teaching, that to pray well we must be fervent and not "faint." The lesson is impressive. If between man and man importunate prayer prevails, how much more will it prevail with God who is perfect, and who will not make us wait except for the sake of our highest well-being. The man goes to his friend with confidence because he has faith in the friendship; how inconceivably strong may this confidence be when we repose it in God! The plea was the stress of his need; the same stress belongs to many of the needs which only God can supply. Our praying-time, like that of the friend at midnight, is often that of the deepest darkness; but we pray to God and not to man, and need not fear that He, in His deep, heavenly repose, will fail faithfully to hearken to our supplications--supplications which, because they proceed from the holiest solicitudes of love and duty, are inspired by Himself. Christ bids us reason from both bad men and good men to God, and it is well for us that He does so. On the bad side, man's love is weak, his judgment faulty, and his selfishness deep-rooted; God is infinite both in His wisdom and His love. On the good side, earthly fathers give bread, not stones, to their children; how much kinder is He to whom we look up and say, "Our Father which art in heaven"! "Yes," you say, "He is good and kind; but He makes us wait." It is so; and why? We are feeble in our desires, and changeful in our purposes. We soon give up. We want faith, patience, perseverance. The uniformly immediate fulfilment of our petitions would leave no room for the cultivation of these quiet, unobtrusive virtues of the Divine life within us. God makes us wait, that we may become importunate, and that importunity may nourish the virtues which are as yet too feeble. Besides, delay gives purity to our motives, and intensity to our desires. A blessing which is easily won is likely to be unappreciated. God would not have us treat His gold as though it were stones. Delay is not refusal; it is discipline. Moreover why speak we of delay at all? What we so designate is not delay from the Divine point of view. He never postpones any asked-for good for one moment beyond the fit time for bestowing it. God's help is always sure, His methods seldom guessed; Delay will make our pleasure pure, Surprise will give it zest. His wisdom is sublime, His heart profoundly kind; God never is before His time, And never is behind. VII. What, then, is the character of the prayer which avails? That some prayers are "hindered"--so hindered as to be unsuccessful--we know full well. This may be accounted for partly by mistaken notions about the Scripture theory of prayer. For example, Jesus says, "What things ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them." The teaching of these words is that the inspiration to true prayer is God's pledge of the blessings sought, and that we must be prepared to take it as such. The prayer of a man who has not full faith in prayer falls short of its mark. Hindrance may also arise from mistaken notions as to the primary use of prayer. Prayer is not an end in itself, but a means to an end. It is true that the holier we become the more shall we find ourselves accustomed to an atmosphere of prayerfulness as the normal condition of the soul. But we shall not pray aright, if we pray under the impression that we are holy because we pray. We must rather pray in order to be holy. The hindrance may also arise from the absence of a supreme anxiety and of a constant effort to honour God in all our relations. Peter speaks of obedience to the duties which spring from the conjugal relation as being necessary to prevent the "hindrance"--the ineffectualness--of family prayer. This is but a special application of a great general principle--namely, the connection between holy conduct in society and the efficiency of our social devotional exercises. These two act and re-act upon each other. To secure the true, full benefit of prayer, we must strive to live holily in all the society with which we mingle. This point touches upon the value of intercessory prayer. Suppose that there is a want of correspondence between the interest in the welfare of those around us which we express in our prayers on their behalf, and that which we show in our intercourse with them; can we rightly expect such prayers to prevail? The deficiency is too frequently manifest in our relations both to the Church and the world. How often is Church brotherhood nominal rather than real! How many pray for the salvation of souls, without caring to do anything else! There is one thing which will always, in so far as it exists, be a barrier to the acceptableness of prayer, and that is the wilful and persistent violation of any of the Divine commands--the refusal to perform Christian duties incumbent upon us, or the cherishing of some habit or propensity known to be wrong. "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me." The success of our prayers does not depend upon our learning, or upon the skill with which we can express our petitions, or with which we can string them together. It depends rather upon the state of our hearts--the vivid consciousness of need, the deep feeling of dependence on God, the supreme desire of the heart to be right with Him, faith in His promises, trust in His power and His love, gratitude for His goodness, an unfainting perseverance in appealing to His throne, and a willingness to wait His time for the blessings thus humbly, trustfully, and earnestly sought. These are the elements of the true spirit of prayer. "Ask" thus "and it shall be given you;" "seek" thus, "and ye shall find;" "knock" thus, "and it shall be opened unto you." I alluded in the beginning to the indirect effects of prayer, and these are too valuable to be overlooked. Prayer, pervaded by humility and trust, is always strengthened by its own exercise. All Christian graces are beautified by it; all Christian virtues are stimulated by it. It is a Divine provision for rousing the slumbering affections of the renewed heart, and keeping them awake. Prayer, too, is its own reward, and a blessed one. How holy and how happy must they be who are on intimate terms with God! Their faces catch His glory, and their every tone and step the impress of the sanctity of the Divine companionship. The Christian can tell his Father all! And because he is so near to God and to heaven, he can put and keep the world beneath his feet. Even delays and seeming refusals are not without their salutary influence. Some persons pray for specific blessings year after year--"pray without ceasing"--and are often staggered at the fact that their prayers remain unanswered; and yet we see them growing in spirituality, purity, fortitude, faith, and we hear them say, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." And so their faith--the most precious thing they have--is tried and refined as in a furnace. Surely such an answer to prayer is sublime! I have been speaking to many a doubt, to many a perplexity, with which I am familiar in my own experience and in that of others. God grant that my words may be helpful! What we all want in regard to this great subject is clearer views and a more unquestioning trust. God courts our utmost confidence, and He will not fail to reward it. XVI. _ASSURANCE._ "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day."--2 Timothy i. 12. These are among the last words the apostle wrote. He is now at Rome, in prison, and within a few days of the tragic end. He is worn down by age; still more so by a constant, toilsome, suffering ministry of some thirty years, a ministry which has obtained for him, at the hands of men, stones and stripes, and now a dungeon, with the immediate prospect of a violent death. He is bound with chains, and compelled to be silent just where and when he has so long been anxious to speak, in the metropolis of the world! He is, moreover, forsaken by his friends, who, though they love him, have not courage to go and visit him now! Outwardly, no sadder condition could well be imagined. Yet Paul is filled with a deep and holy peace. How is this? The answer is that he feels within himself the approval of his God. He is in prison, but that is because of his obedience to His Saviour. He has worn himself down in a Divine service. Behind him he sees a long train of woes and sufferings, but he also sees many churches which he has founded, and many unknown regions open to the gospel. Before him he sees an unrighteous judge and a painful martyrdom, but he also sees heaven, Christ, and the unfading crown. If he says, "All have forsaken me," he can also say, as his Master did, that he is not left alone. All this is enough to account for the calmness and hopefulness of this his last epistle, and especially of the words before us to-day. I will not trouble you with the critical difficulties of the text. On only one preliminary question I would say a word. What does Paul mean by the expression, "that which I have committed unto Him"? Some urge that it was the Church which he was about to leave; others, that it was the result of his labours; and others, that it was his final salvation. I prefer to combine all these into one general whole, and to say: "All his Christian interests, the hopes on which his spirit rested for his personal salvation, and every other interest that was dear to his heart." He had "committed" to Christ himself, the church he had loved and served, the results of his labour, and the final reward to which he was looking forward. If, within the vast scope of his desires, there had been one thing which he could not commit to Christ, his rest would have been incomplete, and his joy would have been marred. But for _everything_ he was able to say: "Saviour, I have committed this to Thee." Observe how Paul puts this great matter. He was the greatest _doctrinal_ writer of the New Testament; but he does not say that he believes in _doctrines_, but that he believes in a _Person_. "I know _whom_ I have believed." All doctrinal belief follows, and is comprised in, that. Faith everywhere in Scripture is confidence in Christ. He who believes in Christ must come sooner or later to believe in the doctrines which cluster around Him. But our experience grows beyond these into the realisation of Him as being so actual, so near, and so sufficient, as to be our true rest. Who among us can tell _all_ the reasons why he believes in Christ? Many of them cannot be put into words. They belong to our most secret thoughts, to the emotions of our happiest hours, to a hidden, silent history, which, if the world heard, it could not understand. Yet these proofs multiply in proportion as the Christian advances in life. How many times have we found the words of Christ adapted to our wants! How many unexpected deliverances has He wrought on our behalf! How many answers to prayer have we received at His hands! How much peace has He breathed into our hearts! "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day." What a grand confirmation have we here of the faith Paul preached! Had his trust been misplaced, surely he had suffered enough to disabuse him of it, and that most completely. But his faith grows the more he suffers. No mere party zeal could stand a test like this; no, nor any delusion either. And so we say that such a man as Paul was, under the circumstances in which he maintained his trust, could not be deceived. Thus Paul's faith becomes a confirmation of our own, and, with him on our side, we may face a world of doubt. But I wish to use the text chiefly for the elucidation of a single subject. Paul's words express _the assurance of his faith_. How does this subject strike us? Does not the very mention of it give rise to sad reflections in many hearts? "The assurance of faith." "Ah, I knew it once," we say; "it was the experience of earlier days, and has been the experience of some special days since then, still more so of some specially holy moments. But it is not my normal state. Would it were!" We are living in a period in which there seems to be a general disinclination towards whatever is firm and precise in religious creed, feeling, and life. This may not be an altogether unhopeful state of things. Respect for truth may keep some minds silent concerning their beliefs, or at least may prevent them from avowing those beliefs too dogmatically. Anxiety and doubt may even in some cases be a sign of spiritual earnestness. Yet the tendency we speak of is on the whole to be deeply deplored. The truth is that the world has invaded us. Men shrink from great precision of conviction because they shrink from great consecration of life. How few the lives that are pre-eminently Christian, as Paul's was! On the other hand, our day is remarkable for its craving for mere religious excitement. In many cases, it is not so much the desire for truth, as the desire to be excited and pleased, that prevails. Neither of these tendencies can build up the faith which finds its grand avowal in the words: "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day." The remedy for the state of things upon which I have touched cannot now be pointed out, because it would lead me away from my purpose. But I want to show the effect of it upon ourselves, and upon those who are without. There are certain aims common to the Christian life of all of us, and these cannot be reached so long as our faith lacks steadiness and stability. 1. Our great mission is to convert souls. We are avowedly the instruments of the Spirit of God in this momentous work. But what is the conversion of a soul? It is a radical change in its affections and its life. But this change never takes place apart from the influence of deep convictions. Men will not exchange the known for the unknown: actual life with its passions and its pleasures for the weak and cold abstractions of a faith with no precision in its principles, or for the worship of a God who is vague and problematical. How are we to succeed in winning souls to the truth we profess unless we can produce something which ought to convince them that we have the right of it? An unstable faith will be of little use to us here. There must be no hesitation in our avowal that our transition from the world to God is a blessed one. In other matters, a man of strong beliefs has half won us to his side. In religion, it is notoriously so. Paul's grand words have been a source of strength to us. Let us make them our own--the expression of our own faith--and they will become, through us, a source of strength to others. Let us have this same Christianity in its fulness and its power; and having it, let us avow it without timidity and without reserve. 2. Our personal obligation, as Christians, is to be holy; and we want the assurance of faith for that. We may be deceived about our conversion. At the outset of our Christian life we may be the subjects of many illusions. But men are not mistaken when, day by day, they are fighting their passions, bringing the will into subjection, conquering the flesh, and submitting the whole life to the long, slow, toilsome discipline of obedience. This kind of work is never accomplished by a vague and undecided religion. Men do not deny themselves without an equivalent. You cannot persuade them to give up their illusions, their pleasures, their passions, nor even their vices, unless you show them something else which may, must, and ought to take their place. If you empty the heart of one set of elements, you must fill it with another. So it is that we want a living God, a living Christ, close to us; loving us, forgiving us, helping us, comforting us, and opening before us the prospect of glory and of happiness for eternity. Let us know and feel ourselves able to say, "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day," and the struggle with inward evil will be simplified, and will become comparatively easy. 3. We stand in daily need of strength and consolation, and for that nothing but a firm and settled faith will suffice. There are great sorrows and great anxieties to which we are all exposed, in the face of which nothing will do for us but sovereign words of life and of hope in which we can implicitly trust. There are great wrongs under which we cannot be comforted except by the constant conviction of a righteousness which will one day vindicate the right, and redress the wrong. There are great losses in which we want the promise and the certainty of an immense and restoring love. Souls will seek this strength, this consolation, here, there, everywhere; but they will never find it until they can say, "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day." 4. The assurance of faith is necessary to all earnestness of effort in the spread of the gospel. A church or a Christian, subsiding into uncertainty of religious belief, has no motive for zeal in the propagation of religion. We preach because we believe. Let the idea, that the Christianity of Christ or of Paul or of the New Testament needs modification, become prevalent in the professing church, and the secret of every true impulse in missionary work, whether abroad or at home, will be gone. It is the men who share Paul's stable, grand faith who can take their stand as the preachers of Christ. It is only they who can rise to the sacrifices necessary for the promotion of His truth in the world. Have we such a faith as this? If not how can we obtain it? This latter question will be best answered by a close adherence to the text. We must say a few words respecting the faith itself, and also respecting Christ, who is the object of it. What is faith? A common answer is that faith is an act of intellectual submission to the teachings of another--that it is in matters of the mind what blind and unquestioning obedience is in matters of practice. This account of faith was early imposed by the Papal Church, and it is not repudiated even now by some evangelical churches. The root of all doctrines of sacramental efficacy is the renunciation of private judgment in matters of faith. No wonder that with such a definition of faith Christianity should be held in derision, and regarded as the special privilege of the young, the immature, the aged, and all whose weaknesses and disappointments leave them no other consolation and no other resource! This is not the teaching of Scripture. Of course in faith there is submission, for there are many things to be believed which we cannot understand. Nevertheless, faith is much more than submission, and there is not a case of faith in the whole Word of God which presents to us the believing life as a thing of mere blind credulity. Was it so with Abraham, with Job, with David, with Paul, or with any of the others? Even in relation to the dark things, faith rests upon convictions which make submission the only rational, the only possible attitude of the mind. According to Scripture, faith is the soul laying hold of the invisible God--laying hold of Christ as His Son and our Saviour. There is no abdication of any one of the powers of the soul. In believing, the soul is entire with its reason, its thought, its love, and all its spiritual energies. Nor is there any weakness. When a man is hesitating between surrender to the voice of conscience, and surrender to the voice of passion, he performs an act of faith if he yields to the voice of conscience, for he is ruled by the invisible; yet the last thing we dare say of such a man would be that he is weak. Rightly considered, every such act is a triumph of the soul. The conscientious man is the representative of the greatest moral strength we know. Imagine a soul with all its life under the constant thought of God and of Christ. Surely such an order of life as his affords scope enough for intellectual strength and for moral heroism. Much must be taken for granted, we said. Reason has its sphere, and to it a truly noble task is assigned. The visible world belongs to it, and it is subjecting that world to itself more and more every day. But how powerless it is when man asks of it a response to the aspirations of his conscience and his heart. What can it say to a soul weighed down by a sense of guilt? What to the heart that is torn by calamity? What to any man when death draws nigh? Oh, no! Unless we are to abandon ourselves to despair, there must be faith--some truth in which, or some Being in whom, the whole soul can repose. And mark, this was just the light in which the apostle looked at the matter. He was near the end. Eternity was close before him. He knew that endless issues were at stake. He was nerved to confront it all by faith. _What faith?_ What was he trusting in? _Paul believed in Christ._ On what grounds? Can _we_ believe in Christ? If so, again I ask on what grounds? 1. Christ stands before us in our darkness in a position which is exclusively His own. Of all men, He alone knew whence He came and whither He went. Without hesitation, and with tones of sovereign authority, He points out to us the way to God. He speaks of heaven as one who has come from thence. Everywhere He calls Himself the Sent of the Father, His only-begotten Son, the Lord of souls. His word was with power; sweet with intensest human tenderness, influential with Divine authority. What was it that gave Him this power? Not human reasoning, not eloquence. It was the light of Truth reaching the conscience, and penetrating the heart. We see in Him God as He is, and we also see in Him man as he ought to be. We do not reason about this influence. Apprehending Him, we instinctively accept it. It is thus that millions have said: "To whom can we go but unto Thee? Thou hast the words of eternal life." 2. This influence of Christ has been exerted on every variety of human soul. His followers, in ever-increasing numbers, come from all conditions on earth--rich and poor, learned and ignorant, young and old, hardened sinners and men blushing with their first sins: all find from Him peace and light and hope. Especially is this so with those who suffer and weep; those who have felt the poverty of mere words, and who are now beyond the reach of any illusion. For the first time they have been comforted, and the comfort has satisfied them. 3. Still we want further to know by what authority He wields this influence. We ask, "Does He come from God?" The reply is that He does before our eyes the works of God. Not miracles merely, for though these constitute a powerful testimony, there is yet something more. He has revealed God in His own person, and the proof of His Divine mission has been given in His life. In Him, holiness has been at once realised and exhibited. Eighteen hundred years ago His enemies could find no fault in Him. Since then humanity has progressed, but Christ still leaves the noblest sons of men amazingly far behind Him. A hostile criticism has been indefatigable in its attempt to discover flaws in His character, and yet that character still stands before us as the ideal of the good and the true. His is a holiness before which the conscience of the world is accused and judged. Irresistibly the answer of the heart comes: "He who is so holy must be worthy of all our faith." 4. Moreover, there is the sense of sin and of the need of pardon and salvation. Here after all, and more than anywhere else, is the secret of confidence in Christ. We seek salvation in works--anywhere out of Him--but we cannot find it. He who is holy and true tells us that He came into the world to save us, that He is our sacrifice and our peace, and that the love and the righteousness of God are manifest in Him and in the redeeming work He has undertaken on our behalf. This exactly meets our case. We say: "This is what we want, but what we have elsewhere sought in vain. At His hands we accept it with implicit trust and with fervent thankfulness." Are not these reasons enough? Is not the response of every heart, "Yes, they are." Can it be less than the utmost folly and guilt for men to resist the voice of a conscience which tells them that it is only in Christ that the soul can find its rest? Is all this concurrent testimony to be set aside? This assurance of faith, however, can only be the result of intense earnestness. We do not forget the necessity of the agency of the Spirit of God; let us never forget it; but let us also remember how constantly and how fatally that agency can be contravened. Paul held the great truths he preached with so tenacious and so unquestioning a faith, because he had begun by consecrating his heart to them under the intuitive perception that they were the truths which his nature as a man and his condition as a sinner so imperatively needed, and because all his experience of them did but confirm their sufficiency. "If any man will do the will of God, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God," or whether it be of men. "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day." For the unbeliever there are grounds enough for faith, both within and without. And if, even with the desire, faith be still found to be beset with difficulties, there is one unfailing prayer which will make it easy--the prayer, "Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief." XVII. _IMMORTALITY._ "What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him?"--Psalm viii. 4. One or two remarks on the meaning of certain expressions in this Psalm are necessary before we proceed. The second verse is pictorial, and has a martial character. Two hosts are seen facing each other. A beautiful world and a wonderful universe are in view of both. Children, in their conscious or unconscious admiration of what they see, and in the early and universal instinct by which they attribute it to the hand of a great God, effectually rebuke the unbelief of scoffers and all haters of God, who persistently refuse to recognise Him in His works. So, even to-day, the simple and pious intuitions of the race face, fight, and conquer all materialism. The beautiful and significant application of these words found in the account of our Lord's triumphal entry into Jerusalem points for all time to the duty of giving Christian teaching to the young. In our Christian homes and our Sunday-schools lies the great bulwark against the spread of infidelity. Such teaching acts on the future. "Instead of the fathers shall be the children," a generation to serve God. These will become fathers in their turn. "Take care of the children, and the adults will take care of themselves." "What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him?" At first sight, it would seem as though the Psalmist were contrasting the littleness of man with the greatness of the universe. And, indeed, he does use a word to denote man which points to his weakness. But this is only David's starting-point in his aim to correct the impression. The Psalm reveals, not the littleness, but the greatness of man. "When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars which Thou hast ordained; what is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him?" How little he looks! Yet how great he must be! "For Thou makest him to want little of a Divine standing; Thou crownest him with honour and glory; Thou makest him to have dominion over the work of Thy hands; Thou puttest all under his feet--all sheep and oxen, and also beasts of the field, the fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea--whatsoever passeth through the paths of the sea." One of the subtlest, and, to a certain degree, one of the most plausible of the objections of unbelief has been the attempt to instil into men's minds the idea that it is presumptuous on their part to put confidence in the apparently sublime, but really fallacious, prospects which Christianity offers to them with regard to their destiny beyond this world. God is too great, it is said, and man is too little for us to admit the thought that God takes such an interest in man, both for this world and for the next, as the Bible affirms. The tendency of modern thought is largely in the direction of this view. It would be easy to overtax our attention by going into too wide a field. I will speak only of the Christian idea of an immortal and heavenly life hereafter. It is this which is imperilled; it is this which is called in question. I have nothing to do now with the debated question of future punishment. Let me re-state the form of scepticism with which I have to deal. It is said to be presumptuous to suppose that we, the creatures of a day, are to be hereafter lifted up to a state of perfect blessedness, which is to last for ever, in the presence of God; and we are recommended to leave this dream aside, and to be content with the position we occupy here and now. "You have much to be thankful for, even as things are. Let it not be thought a hardship, if death should prove to be the end of man." The lines of thought as they start from this point are numerous, and one is tempted to follow them out. But we must forbear, for the sake of attending simply to our one purpose. I may, however, point out to you how partial and unreal is the view which is thus taken of man's position and of his aspirations. Given the utmost of outward and present satisfaction, man universally is not content with this. But how many millions of human beings there are in the world at this moment to whom the present life can scarcely be said to have been any boon at all! How many more millions of such beings have lived in the past. The very ground we tread everywhere cowers beneath human sorrow. Is it not a cruel mockery to say to the suffering, the enslaved, the down-trodden: "Be grateful for what you have; it is vain, foolish, wrong for you to expect or to wish for more"? Some such advice as this may be given if our Christian hopes are tenable; but if they are not, we do but insult the suffering if we speak to them in this fashion. The kind of unbelief we are anxious to check is spreading. Among the masses, in many directions, the desire to apprehend spiritual realities, and to be ruled by them, is increasingly small; the battles of life and thought are on behalf of the interests of a day; and even among well-disposed persons the hold of fundamental truth is seriously relaxed. Hence the necessity for our seeking to strengthen our cherished convictions, and to discern clearly and grasp firmly "the faith once delivered to the saints." If the views we animadvert upon were entertained merely by the ignorant and the uncultured, we should not so much wonder; but we _are_ perplexed when we find them so prevalent amongst the wise of this world, and even by not a few who are reputed to be masters of human science. It is true that their advancing knowledge gives them vaster conceptions of the universe which they so unweariedly explore; but is it not strange that that vaster knowledge does not enhance their estimate of man, since he _can_ explore so widely and _can_ comprehend so much? Why should religious faith decrease in proportion as human knowledge is accumulated? I take the psalm before us as furnishing a triumphant and lasting reply to the kind of unbelief in question. In Nature, first, God shows us His estimate of man. The ascent is easy from Nature to Grace, in which the Divine estimate is raised to its highest point. We are invited to look around. Can there be any doubt that this beautiful world, with its immense treasures known and unknown, its bountiful harvests of every order on land and sea, and its marvellous variety of life, animate and inanimate, was formed for our sakes? Was not everything the earth contains made for our use and enjoyment, in measure increasing with every new discovery? The fruits of the ground, with each returning season, are prepared for our wants, and in that preparation, every season, with its sunshine and its shade, its dryness and its rain, its dews and its storms, is incessantly engaged. All nature is occupied in the successful attempt to answer the initial question, "What shall we eat? what shall we drink? and wherewithal shall we be clothed?" The dress we wear brings innumerable animals under tribute. "We have dominion over all sheep and oxen, yea, and the beast of the field, the fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the sea." Everything tells us that, in this world, we are kings--"a little," only a little, "lower than the angels"--the gods. Between man and the inferior animals there is as great a distance as between the master and his slave;--nay more, as between the artizan and his instruments. The irrational animal is much nearer to the inanimate creation than to man since the end and purpose of both is to minister to man. This world, therefore, was manifestly made for us. Who ventures to doubt it? Least of all can it be doubted by the discoverers of earth's profounder secrets. We are invited to look still further afield. This world, which is made for us, is not independent or alone. It is in no sense self-sustained. It is part of a wonderful and incomprehensible whole. Other great creations concur in its maintenance. The sun enlightens, warms, and fertilizes it. The moon and the stars exert manifold influences upon it. The whole host of heaven has been brought into co-ordinate and helpful relation to it--yes, _it_: the world which exists _for us_! "When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars which Thou hast ordained;" when I consider the manifold bearings of Thy universe upon man--what _is_ man! What _must_ he be! In certain aspects, indeed, apparently small; but, by all these tokens, how great! We do not say that we are the only moral and spiritual beings in the midst of so many worlds. We do not know, but we may accept the probability that God has created beings capable of adoring and loving Him everywhere. But we do say--and science combines with Scripture to compel us to say--that these worlds have been in part created for us, just as our world has been in part created for them. This is clear. The most sceptical of men cannot venture to doubt it; nor do they. It is only needful that we should carefully observe in order to become convinced of this marvellous fact. So much, then, for what nature teaches. The psalmist sought to learn the lesson, and it is right that we should seek to learn it too. This first step being taken, another follows. Man is an object of the manifold agencies of myriads of worlds. He is so _as man_; and the relative position he holds, intellectually, morally, or socially, to his fellow men, has nothing to do with the fact. Nature ministers to the Caffre and the Hottentot as truly as to the man of most advanced civilization; the only difference being in the use which the two opposite classes can make of nature. Why, then, should man refuse to believe that he is an object of solicitous love to that God who created him, who made him what he is, and who thus crowned him with glory and honour? Why should he refuse to believe that God loves him enough to send His Son to die for him, and thus to save him from the wreck of his being through sin? Especially, why should he refuse to believe this when he is assured of it by Him who testified that He was that Son of God--by Jesus, the man _par excellence_, the God-man? Why should it be doubted that man is an object of interest to angels, who are said to rejoice over every sinner that repenteth? Why should it be doubted that God has provided for him a fairer home than this, that immortality and heaven are the things which God has in reserve for him? Why should it be doubted that an everlasting salvation has been provided for him through such a sacrifice as that of Christ? If sun, moon, and stars have been made for the service of man, why should it be hard to believe that God, who counts the stars, and calls them all by their names, should also heal the broken in heart, and bind up their wounds? The prospect of human destiny as opened up by Christianity is grand; but not too grand to be ascribed to Him who created the universe, and so arranged it that it should constitute one vast system of ministration to us. When we see God thus working for man, we cannot be surprised that angels should be glad to serve him too. Neither can we wonder that the Son of God should come to save him. The wonder begins with man's primary relation to the "all things," for our knowledge of which we are not dependent upon revelation at all. Science teaches us that; and revelation only endorses it. That is wonderful enough; but accepting it as a fact, all that revelation teaches, but which science could not have discovered, follows naturally enough. The facts of revelation concerning man may be accepted the more implicitly because they really have their basis in the facts of science. The whole is in perfect harmony. The one and the other are both represented--and consistently so--as concurring in the great cause of human happiness. Try now from the greatness of the means to estimate the greatness of the end. Is eternal life too much for a being whom the worlds combine to sustain, to feed, and to bless? Is a heaven of holiness and of love too much for a being whom angels are delighted to protect? No! The wonderful thing would be if, after having combined these vast and various forces to maintain our earthly existence, an Almighty and All-good God should for ever quench our life after its brief day upon the earth! It may be objected that this is a low and selfish view to take of the matter. It may be said that it is not the life of the individual, but the life of the race that has to be considered; and that it is enough for us to live, after we are gone, in the good remembrances of those who will survive us, and to hope that what we are doing will advance the interests of those who will follow us. An immortality such as this is in reality no immortality at all. An unconscious immortality! A public recognition of what we have been when we shall be no longer! A public gratitude, which may at best be but precarious to those to whom it is due, when they are believed to have dropped into nothingness and thus to be no longer capable of receiving and enjoying it! A progress merely confined to material interests! And who are sharing in it to-day? The few who are strong enough to hold their own in the battle of life! They, and only they! All this is supreme nonsense. The aspirations of the heart are against it. If man's life ends here, it was not worth while for him to be born. Millions, in that case, might justly look up to God and say, "Remember how short my time is: wherefore hast Thou made all men in vain?" Nevertheless, lest we should be exalted to pride and self-importance, let us remember that the grandeur of our destiny is not determined and measured by our merits, but by the immensity of the Divine goodness. What have we which we have not received? And since we have received it, why should we boast as if it were all of our own making? Ah, it is because Satan can compare our hopes with our rights, and can help us to do so too, that he succeeds in injecting doubts into our hearts. Our reply must be, that the eternal and blessed life which we anticipate is not of _reward_, but of _grace_; not a payment, but a gift--a gift in harmony with all God's other gifts, but still the greatest gift of all; and that instead of inflating us with pride, it may well place us at His feet in lowliest, devoutest thankfulness. By sin we had forfeited all; but "where sin hath abounded, grace doth much more abound." God loved the man whom He had created with such power, and whom He had placed in so commanding a position; and because He loved him, He resolved to provide a great redemption for him. What a ground have we here for hope! And what a plea for evangelisation! XVIII. _HEAVEN._ "Therefore are they before the throne of God."--Revelation vii. 15. Let us think of Heaven this morning. The verses of which the text is a fragment will help us to do so. The hope of heaven is the crowning hope of the Christian. It ought at all times to be an important element in his joy. All the pleasant things of earth should be made brighter by the reflected light of the world beyond the grave. It is common, however, for us to live in a sort of unconsciousness of this. Within proper limits this is not to be complained of. For our duties are _here_, and we are not fitted for there by "looking too eagerly beyond." Besides, earth is the training-school for heaven, and unless we would enter into heaven as into "a vast abrupt," obviously our present duty is by all means to cultivate that life which shall fit us for it. There are, however, certain lulls in the rush of life which seem to draw us to the contemplation of the future. We find them sometimes in seasons of repose, but more especially in seasons of sorrow, and more especially still in seasons of bereavement. I am not anxious to form an argument this morning. I have little disposition to _argue_ about heaven. But I want to express some thoughts, disjointed perhaps, but I trust suggestive, and each one carrying its message to our weary hearts. What may we know? We often ask this question with hope that is tremulous--or it may be with tremulousness that is hopeful. What may we know? Certainly not all that we sometimes wish to know; but then we sometimes wish to know things the knowledge of which would be useless, or curious, or beyond our reach until we can see with tearless eyes, and realise with sinless hearts. There are certain aspects under which heaven seems to be altogether visionary. Where is it? We are not told. What are the dimensions and outlines of it? We do not know. It is described under a great variety of material figures. We read of its gates of pearl, its walls of jasper, its streets of gold, its river of the water of life, its tree of life; but we know that these descriptions symbolise the spiritual. Not that they are mere riddles, however. Some of their truth may be confidently guessed. There is one important fact of which we cannot be in doubt. Heaven is the place in which will be developed and perfected a certain character--certain moral and spiritual qualifications. Heaven is where perfect goodness is, just as on earth happiness is where godliness and Christlikeness are. We may, therefore, put heaven where we will, and think about it almost as we please, provided we put the right sort of character there, and remember what sort of discipline here must prepare for it. This is the essential point in the revelations of this book: "There shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie: but they which are written in the Lamb's book of life." There _must_ be a heaven for the good. I shall not stop to point out what a wreck our common Christianity would be if there were no future life of blessedness for the Christian. In contemplating such a possibility, the apostle Paul exclaims: "If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable." _We_: for we have expected heaven; the fair vision has been put before us as a great hope, and we lose in proportion to what we thought we had gained. _We_: for we have prepared for it, through a life--in many instances a _long_ life--of self discipline, of loyalty to God, of the mortification of sin, of the cultivation of goodness. _We_: for we have suffered for it, sometimes directly through ills endured for Christ's sake, and always indirectly by the sacrifice of that which the world distinctively calls its own, and on which it sets its supreme regard. Our Christianity has promised this heaven to us; and the promise has enhanced many an earthly joy, and charmed away many an earthly sorrow. No heaven? Then we have been shamefully deceived--miserably disappointed; and there is no hope for us any more! But no! The words of the great consolation are sounding still, and we can trust them: "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: _if it were not so, I would have told you_. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am there ye may be also." It is one of the characteristic glories of the Bible that it meets the renewed heart's desires in regard to the future, by revealing, not only the fact of the future, but also some of its resplendent mysteries; so that, after taking man through the several stages of his progress on earth, it conducts him at last to the heaven of his hopes, the home of the good. Perhaps no Scripture disclosure of Heaven is more wonderful, more complete, more entrancing than the one we have in the vision of the apostle John as recorded in the verses before us. True, it is put before us, like the other revelations of this book, in poetical and pictorial form. Nevertheless, the spiritual teaching is sufficiently plain. Let us seek the help of that good Spirit by whom John was inspired, whilst we try to learn something of that which is revealed to us in this chapter. In the light of it we see an innumerable multitude of persons who, having travelled this world in trial and in sorrow, are now before the throne of God, safe in the heaven of the redeemed. So we see, at the very beginning, that the Heaven which is here presented to our view is no solitary place. It is not peopled merely by a few. John says he saw "a great multitude whom no man could number." In the Old Testament a similar phrase is used to denote Israel, the representative of the Church of later times. The numberless stars of heaven, and the sands on the seashore are the parallels of the idea we find here. The Church on earth, sometimes not unfitly described as "a garden walled around," and as "a little flock," is not, in this sense, the representation of the Church in heaven. We see, further, that the heavenly territory embraces the representatives of every earthly human condition: they gather from all ages and all climes of the world--from all "nations and kindreds, and peoples, and tongues." In this great fact we have the basis of the theory of our mission work, and our hope of its ultimate success. We see, again, that the relation of the saints to Christ in heaven is essentially the same as that of the saints on earth. They stand before the throne and before the Lamb, and cry with a loud voice: "Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb." They sing the Lamb in hymns above, And we in hymns below. Self-confidence, self-righteousness, self-exaltation have no place _there_. All the glory of salvation, all the glory of heaven, is due to God and to the Lamb from first to last. Every step of the way, right on to its termination, has been arranged by His wisdom and accomplished by His grace. With these facts before us, there ought to be no strangeness connected with our conception of Heaven. Its inhabitants are our friends transferred, and the elements of its perfected life and joy are the same as we are, in our measure, familiar with in the imperfect state through which we are now passing. Perhaps the most comprehensive, and most spiritually attractive and influential idea of it is that of _entire satisfaction_. In this aspect of it, it meets the demands of our experience, fulfils our hope, and draws us upward. Satisfaction! How beautiful the thought! To the weary and the heavy laden it comes as rest. To the aspiring it comes as a sphere of boundless opportunity. To the sad and troubled, it is "a land of pure delight." To those who groan under present spiritual short comings and frailties, it is the home of the spirits of the just made perfect. We are often staggered at the faults of Christians; they will be "without fault" there. Here our faults dissociate us more or less from our brethren; faultlessness there will make the union complete. Here darkness, there light; here sowing, there the harvest; here a wilderness, there the garden of the Lord. Heaven contains all our ideals of the true, the beautiful and the good; and one day we shall realise them! The description which we have before us warrants all this, and much more. How much more? The redeemed in Heaven live a life of immunity from suffering. No hunger; no thirst; no oppression from the heat of the sun. No faintness; no pangs. John seems, from the form of expression he uses, to have beheld them as they were "coming out of great tribulation." Whatever may be the prophetic reference in these words, we may understand them as having some meaning appropriate to all the redeemed. All life, with its varied experience may be called (and that too in no fanciful sense) a tribulation; in this sense at least, that it is a probation, a trial, a testing-time in view of the great awards of the future. From this all come, gradually, successively, one by one, passing from the school of earth to the home of heaven. Trial is the common discipline of the good, and it comes in many forms;--sometimes in the form of bodily pain and sickness; sometimes in the form of trouble, disappointment, loss in the household and in the social circle; sometimes in the form of persecution; often in the form of a struggle with temptation springing up from within or from without; often, it may be, in the form of conflict with doubt. Sorrow, trial, tribulation--from all this the redeemed in heaven have emerged. But they have not only escaped from evil; they have risen into a perfect blessedness--the blessedness which comes from the satisfaction of every want. They not only hunger no more, neither thirst any more; but the Lamb that is in the midst of the throne feeds them, and leads them to living fountains of waters. Their blessedness is all the richer because not only are all their tears wiped away, but wiped away by the hand of infinite gentleness and love--the hand of the Best Beloved in all the universe! Well may they be glad! Well may they sing loud ecstatic songs of praise to their Redeemer. Well may they serve Him day and night in His temple--perfected powers rejoicing evermore in a perfect consecration. They are a company living, dwelling, at the very centre of joy: no care upon them, no labour weighing them down; their Lord in the midst of them, their satisfaction complete. The contrast between their condition on earth and in heaven is full of wonder to us as we muse upon it. How was the change wrought? What must we learn concerning this from what is here revealed? They were prepared _here_ for the state beyond. The life of heaven is the continuation and the result of the earthly life. "They washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb," and they "came up out of great tribulation." Here we have the process of the cleansing, "the great tribulation" being comprehensive of the whole discipline by which God purifies human souls. Here we have also the purifying element, "the blood of the Lamb," the atoning power to wash out all stains, the stimulating power to inspire to all holiness. And we also have the final result--"white raiment." So, doctrinally, the "robes" stand for the whole character, the tribulation for the process of purification; "the blood of the Lamb," for the cleansing element in its justifying and sanctifying effects. Their holiness is not merely passive. There is a righteousness which is imputed; but there is also a righteousness which is acquired--acquired in the might of the Saviour, and through the influences of His Spirit. Those who do not aspire to the latter have no hope from the former, except a hope which must make them ashamed. But inasmuch as both aspects of salvation are to be referred to the Lamb, they give to Him the glory. It is all His from beginning to end. "They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." Thus their salvation was effected on earth. Heaven has introduced no new moral element into their condition. Heaven is essentially the full realisation of what a Christian expects and hopes this side the grave. It is the inheritance of the man who has the kingdom of God _within_ him. There is one part of the description which requires a little explanation, and all the more so as it bears upon the aspects given to us of heavenly blessedness. The redeemed are represented as standing before the throne with palms in their hands. Many explain this by the heathen use of the palm as the emblem of victory, and they quote the declaration: "In all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us." I would rather, with some, refer this emblem to a much sweeter and holier reminiscence. The figure seems to be taken from the Feast of Tabernacles, which commemorated two things--God's care for, and protection of, Israel during their wanderings in the wilderness, and His continued Providence in the supply of the fruits of the earth in their season. It was held at the close of the year's out-door labours, and with it the season of rest began. And so with the ransomed above, the troubles of the wilderness are ended, and the harvest-home has come. Such is the heaven to which God has removed our dead. May we not with thankfulness leave them there? Must we not feel that by death, they have made a glorious exchange? In their case, it would be wrong to call death by hard names. It is the message which comes to the child at school to go home. I know that we often fail to apprehend this. Bound by time and sense, we want to build our homes here, and our structures have one after another to be overthrown that we may the better learn to think of "the city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." Heaven is best seen by the graves of those we have loved; and not till earth becomes poor to us is Heaven felt to be rich. There our loved ones are in raiment white and clean, and they are happy. Let it be our constant endeavour to rejoin them there. The same blood still atones; the same all-holy Spirit still purifies; the same process of trial leads to the same issue. For ourselves, we should ever keep in mind the connection between discipline here and glory hereafter. Present darkness may be interpreted by future light. Even now, the sanctified effects of trial are such as to suggest to us what its final issues will be. It subdues us, makes us gentle, reveals us to ourselves, reveals God to us, spiritualises us; so that we may well be more anxious to have our troubles blessed by God than to have them taken away. As the discipline of earth is fashioning us for heaven, so our conceptions of heaven are continually re-acting upon us, and moulding our life. One thought more. The seer beholds the immense multitude of the redeemed. The angel asks him who they are; but he does not know them. Many of them perhaps are persons whom he had known on earth; but they are so changed that he does not recognise them now. He used to know them by their imperfect Christian virtues; but now they are "without fault." And so they seem strange to him, just as sometimes even here the transformations of virtue and of joy make us say of well-known faces that we hardly recognise them again. A hint of this we often see in the faces of the dead; so like, yet so unlike. Is there any doubt, then, as to our recognising them at the last? None. We may, perhaps, fail to identify them at once, but they will not be strangers to us long. We shall look upon them with opened and purified eyes, and shall know them, even as the disciples on the mount knew Moses and Elias, notwithstanding the glory. Oh, it will be good for us to be there! Good for us to remain there for ever! Read: "These are they who _are coming_"--not "who came." They began to come with Abel; and the procession is not yet closed. Among the last are those over the loss of whom we are weeping now. Let us brush away our tears; for at least we may say to ourselves this-- One sweetly solemn thought Comes to me o'er and o'er: I'm nearer my home to-day Than I've ever been before! Nearer my Father's house, Where the many mansions be; Nearer the great white Throne; Nearer the jasper sea! Nearer the bound of life, Where I lay my burden down! Nearer leaving my cross! Nearer wearing my crown! Transcriber's Note Archaic and variable spelling is preserved as printed. The following typographic errors have been fixed: Page xiv--repeated 'not' deleted--... if it did not actually reach, its maturity. Page 46--repeated 'in' deleted--Observe what in that case must follow. Page 62--repeated 'are' deleted--... towards those who are around us. Page 195--inmediate amended to immediate--... on the direct and immediate control of God, ... Page 227--trimphant amended to triumphant--... furnishing a triumphant and lasting reply ... The frontispiece has been moved to follow the title page. The illustration caption in {brackets} has been added by the transcriber for the convenience of the reader. 
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16645	----	SERMONS _PREACHED AT BRIGHTON._ BY THE LATE REV. FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON, THE INCUMBENT OF TRINITY CHAPEL. _THIRD SERIES._ NEW EDITION. LONDON: KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH. & CO., 1 PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 1884. (_The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved_) TO _THE CONGREGATION_ WORSHIPPING IN TRINITY CHAPEL, BRIGHTON, FROM AUGUST 15, 1847, TO AUGUST 15, 1853, THESE RECOLLECTIONS OF SERMONS PREACHED BY THEIR LATE PASTOR, ARE DEDICATED CONTENTS. SERMON I. Preached April 28, 1850. THE TONGUE. ST. JAMES iii. 5, 6.--"Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth! And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell." Page 1 SERMON II. Preached May 5, 1850. THE VICTORY OF FAITH. 1 JOHN v. 4, 5.--"For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God?" 15 SERMON III. Preached Whitsunday, May 19, 1850. THE DISPENSATION OF THE SPIRIT. 1 CORINTHIANS xii. 4.--"Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit." 29 SERMON IV. Preached May 26, 1850. THE TRINITY. 1 THESS. v. 23.--"And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." 43 SERMON V. Preached June 2, 1850. ABSOLUTION. LUKE v. 21.--"And the Scribes and the Pharisees began to reason saying, Who is this which speaketh blasphemies? Who can forgive sins, but God alone?" 61 SERMON VI. Preached June 9, 1850. THE ILLUSIVENESS OF LIFE. HEBREWS xi. 8-10.--"By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise: for he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." 77 SERMON VII. Preached June 23, 1850. THE SACRIFICE OF CHRIST. 2 COR. v. 14, 15.--"For the love of Christ constraineth us; because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead: and that he died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him which died for them, and rose again." 90 SERMON VIII. Preached June 30, 1850. THE POWER OF SORROW. 2 COR. vii. 9, 10.--"Now I rejoice, not that ye were made sorry, but that ye sorrowed to repentance: for ye were made sorry after a godly manner, that ye might receive damage by us in nothing. For godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of: but the sorrow of the world worketh death." 104 SERMON IX. Preached August 4, 1850. SENSUAL AND SPIRITUAL EXCITEMENT. EPHESIANS v. 17, 18.--"Wherefore be ye not unwise, but understanding what the will of the Lord is. And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit." 112 SERMON X. Preached August 11, 1850. PURITY. TITUS i. 15.--"Unto the pure all things are pure: but unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled." 122 SERMON XI. Preached February 9, 1851. UNITY AND PEACE. COL. iii. 15.--"And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful." 130 SERMON XII. Preached January 4, 1852. THE CHRISTIAN AIM AND MOTIVE. MATT. v. 48.--"Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." 143 SERMON XIII. Preached January 4, 1852. CHRISTIAN CASUISTRY. 1 COR. vii. 18-24.--"Is any man called being circumcised? let him not become uncircumcised. Is any called in uncircumcision? let him not be circumcised. Circumcision is nothing, and uncircumcision is nothing, but the keeping of the commandments of God. Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called. Art thou called being a servant? care not for it: but if thou mayest be made free use it rather. For he that is called in the Lord, being a servant, is the Lord's freeman; likewise also he that is called being free, is Christ's servant. Ye are bought with a price; be not ye the servants of men. Brethren, let every man wherein he is called therein abide with God." 156 SERMON XIV. Preached January 11, 1852. MARRIAGE AND CELIBACY. 1 COR. vii. 29-31.--"But this I say, brethren, the time is short: it remaineth that both they that have wives be as though they had none; and they that weep as though they wept not; and they that rejoice as though they rejoiced not; and they that buy, as though they possessed not; and they that use this world as not abusing it: for the fashion of this world passeth away." 169 SERMON XV. Preached January 11, 1852. THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH A FAMILY. EPH. iii. 14, 15.--"Our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in Heaven and earth is named." 181 SERMON XVI. Preached January 25, 1852. THE LAW OF CHRISTIAN CONSCIENCE. 1 COR. viii. 7-13.--"Howbeit there is not in every man that knowledge: for some, with conscience of the idol, unto this hour, eat it as a thing offered unto an idol; and their conscience being weak is defiled. But meat commendeth us not to God: for neither if we eat are we the better; neither if we eat not are we the worse. But take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours become a stumbling-block to them that are weak. For if any man see thee which hast knowledge, sit at meat in the idol's temple, shall not the conscience of him which is weak be emboldened to eat those things which are offered to idols; and through thy knowledge shall the weak brother perish for whom Christ died? But when ye sin so against the brethren and wound their weak conscience ye sin against Christ. Wherefore if meat make my brother to offend I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend." 196 SERMON XVII. Preached May 16, 1852. VICTORY OVER DEATH. 1 COR. xv. 56, 57.--"The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." 212 SERMON XVIII. Preached June 20, 1852. MAN'S GREATNESS AND GOD'S GREATNESS. ISAIAH lvii. 15.--"For thus saith the High and Lofty One that inhabiteth Eternity, whose Name is Holy. I dwell in the high and holy place--with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit." 230 SERMON XIX. Preached June 27, 1852. THE LAWFUL AND UNLAWFUL USE OF LAW. (A FRAGMENT.) 1 TIM. i. 8.--"But we know that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully." 246 SERMON XX. Preached February 21, 1853. THE PRODIGAL AND HIS BROTHER. LUKE xv. 31, 32.--"And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found." 253 SERMON XXI. Preached May 15, 1853. JOHN'S REBUKE OF HEROD. LUKE iii. 19, 20.--"But Herod the tetrarch, being reproved by him for Herodias, his brother Philip's wife, and for all the evils which Herod had done, added yet this above all, that he shut up John in prison." 270 SERMONS. I. _Preached April 28, 1850._ THE TONGUE. "Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth! And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell."--St. James iii. 5-6. In the development of Christian Truth a peculiar office was assigned to the Apostle James. It was given to St. Paul to proclaim Christianity as the spiritual law of liberty, and to exhibit Faith as the most active principle within the breast of man. It was St. John's to say that the deepest quality in the bosom of Deity is Love; and to assert that the life of God in Man is Love. It was the office of St. James to assert the necessity of Moral Rectitude; his very name marked him out peculiarly for this office: he was emphatically called, "the Just:" integrity was his peculiar characteristic. A man singularly honest, earnest, real. Accordingly, if you read through his whole epistle, you will find it is, from first to last, one continued vindication of the first principles of morality against the _semblances_ of religion. He protested against the censoriousness which was found connected with peculiar claims of religious feelings. "If any man among you seem to be religious and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain." He protested against that spirit which had crept into the Christian Brotherhood, truckling to the rich, and despising the poor. "If ye have respect of persons ye commit sin, and are convinced of the law as transgressors." He protested against that sentimental fatalism which induced men to throw the blame of their own passions upon God. "Let no man say, when he is tempted, I am tempted of God; for God cannot tempt to evil; neither tempteth He any man." He protested against that unreal religion of excitement which diluted the earnestness of real religion in the enjoyment of listening. "Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only; deceiving your own souls." He protested against that trust in the correctness of theological doctrine which neglected the cultivation of character. "What doth it profit, if a man _say_ that he hath faith, and have not works? Can faith save him?" Read St. James's epistle through, this is the mind breathing through it all:--all this _talk_ about religion, and spirituality--words, words, words--nay, let us have _realities_. It is well known that Luther complained of this epistle, that it did not contain the Gospel; for men who are hampered by a system will say--even of an inspired Apostle--that he does not teach the Gospel if their own favourite doctrine be not the central subject of his discourse; but St. James's reply seems spontaneously to suggest itself to us. The Gospel! how can we speak of the Gospel, when the first principles of _morality_ are forgotten? when Christians are excusing themselves, and slandering one another? How can the superstructure of Love and Faith be built, when the very foundations of human character--Justice, Mercy, Truth--have not been laid? 1st. The license of the tongue. 2nd. The guilt of that license. The first license given to the tongue is slander. I am not of course, speaking now of that species of slander against which the law of libel provides a remedy, but of that of which the Gospel alone takes cognisance; for the worst injuries which man can do to man, are precisely those which are too delicate for _law_ to deal with. We consider therefore not the calumny which is reckoned such by the moralities of an earthly court, but that which is found guilty by the spiritualities of the courts of heaven--that is, the mind of God. Now observe, this slander is compared in the text to poison--"the tongue is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison." The deadliest poisons are those for which no test is known: there are poisons so destructive that a single drop insinuated into the veins produces death in three seconds, and yet no chemical science can separate that virus from the contaminated blood, and show the metallic particles of poison glittering palpably, and say, "Behold, it is there!" In the drop of venom which distils from the sting of the smallest insect, or the spikes of the nettle-leaf, there is concentrated the quintessence of a poison so subtle that the microscope cannot distinguish it, and yet so virulent that it can inflame the blood, irritate the whole constitution, and convert day and night into restless misery. In St. James's day, as now, it would appear that there were idle men and idle women, who went about from house to house, dropping slander as they went, and yet you could not take up that slander and detect the falsehood there. You could not evaporate the truth in the slow process of the crucible, and then show the residuum of falsehood glittering and visible. You could not fasten upon any word or sentence, and say that it was calumny; for in order to constitute slander it is not necessary that the word spoken should be false--half truths are often more calumnious than whole falsehoods. It is not even necessary that a word should be distinctly uttered; a dropped lip, an arched eyebrow, a shrugged shoulder, a significant look, an incredulous expression of countenance, nay, even an emphatic silence, may do the work: and when the light and trifling thing which has done the mischief has fluttered off, the venom is left behind, to work and rankle, to inflame hearts, to fever human existence, and to poison human society at the fountain springs of life. Very emphatically was it said by one whose whole being had smarted under such affliction, "Adder's poison is under their lips." The second license given to the tongue is in the way of persecution: "therewith curse we men which are made after the similitude of God." "We!"--men who bear the name of Christ--curse our brethren! Christians persecuted Christians. Thus even in St. James's age that spirit had begun, the monstrous fact of Christian persecution; from that day it has continued, through long centuries, up to the present time. The Church of Christ assumed the office of denunciation, and except in the first council, whose object was not to strain, but to relax the bonds of brotherhood, not a council has met for eighteen centuries which has not guarded each profession of belief by the too customary formula, "If any man maintain otherwise than this, let him be accursed." Myriad, countless curses have echoed through those long ages; the Church has forgotten her Master's spirit and called down fire from heaven. A fearful thought to consider this as the spectacle on which the eye of God has rested. He looks down upon the creatures He has made, and hears everywhere the language of religious imprecations:--and after all, who is proved right by curses? The Church of Rome hurls her thunders against Protestants of every denomination: the Calvinist scarcely recognises the Arminian as a Christian: he who considers himself as the true Anglican, excludes from the Church of Christ all but the adherents of his own orthodoxy; every minister and congregation has its small circle, beyond which all are heretics: nay even among that sect which is most lax as to the dogmatic forms of truth, we find the Unitarian of the old school denouncing the spiritualism of the new and rising school. This is the state of things to which we are arrived. Sisters of Charity refuse to permit an act of charity to be done by a Samaritan; ministers of the Gospel fling the thunderbolts of the Lord; ignorant hearers catch and exaggerate the spirit,--boys, girls, and women shudder as one goes by, perhaps more holy than themselves, who adores the same God, believes in the same Redeemer, struggles in the same life-battle, and all this because they have been taught to look upon him as an enemy of God. There is a class of religious persons against whom this vehemence has been especially directed. No one who can read the signs of the times can help perceiving that we are on the eve of great changes, perhaps a disruption of the Church of England. Unquestionably there has been a large secession to the Church of Rome. Now what has been the position of those who are about to take this step? They have been taunted with dishonest reception of the wages of the Church; a watch has been set over them: not a word they uttered in private, or in public, but was given to the world by some religious busy-body; there was not a visit which they paid, not a foolish dress which they adopted, but became the subject of bitter scrutiny and malevolent gossip. For years the religious press has denounced them with a vehemence as virulent, but happily more impotent than that of the Inquisition. There has been an anguish and an inward struggle little suspected, endured by men who felt themselves outcasts in their own society, and naturally looked for a home elsewhere. We congratulate ourselves that the days of persecution are gone by; but persecution is that which affixes penalties upon _views held_, instead of upon _life led_. Is persecution _only_ fire and sword? But suppose a man of sensitive feeling says, The sword is less sharp to me than the slander: fire is less intolerable than the refusal of sympathy! Now let us bring this home; you rejoice that the faggot and the stake are given up;--_you_ never persecuted--you leave that to the wicked Church of Rome. Yes, you never burned a human being alive--you never clapped your hands as the death-shriek proclaimed that the lion's fang had gone home into the most vital part of the victim's frame; but did you never rob him of his friends?--gravely shake your head and oracularly insinuate that he was leading souls to hell?--chill the affections of his family?--take from him his good name? Did you never with delight see his Church placarded as the Man of Sin, and hear the platform denunciations which branded it with the spiritual abominations of the Apocalypse? Did you never find a malicious pleasure in repeating all the miserable gossip with which religious slander fastened upon his daily acts, his words, and even his uncommunicated thoughts? Did you never forget that for a man to "work out his own salvation with fear and trembling" is a matter difficult enough to be laid upon a human spirit, without intruding into the most sacred department of another's life--that namely, which lies between himself and God? Did you never say that "it was to be wished he should go to Rome," until at last life became intolerable,--until he was thrown more and more in upon himself; found himself, like his Redeemer, in this world alone, but unable like his Redeemer, calmly to repose upon the thought that his Father was with him? Then a stern defiant spirit took possession of his soul, and there burst from his lips, or heart, the wish for _rest_--rest at any cost,--peace anywhere, if even it is to be found only in the bosom of the Church of Rome! II. The guilt of this license. The first evil consequence is the harm that a man does himself: "so is the tongue among the members, that it defiles the whole body." It is not very obvious, in what way a man does himself harm by calumny. I will take the simplest form in which this injury is done; it effects a dissipation of spiritual energy. There are two ways in which the steam of machinery may find an outlet for its force: it may work, and if so it works silently; or it may escape, and that takes place loudly, in air and noise. There are two ways in which the spiritual energy of a man's soul may find its vent: it may express itself in action, silently; or in words, noisily: but just so much of force as is thrown into the one mode of expression, is taken from the other. Few men suspect how much mere talk fritters away spiritual energy,--that which should be spent in action, spends itself in words. The fluent boaster is not the man who is steadiest before the enemy; it is well said to him that his courage is better kept till it is wanted. Loud utterance of virtuous indignation against evil from the platform, or in the drawing-room, do not characterize the spiritual giant: so much indignation as is expressed, has found vent, is wasted, is taken away from the work of coping with evil; the man has so much less left. And hence he who restrains that love of talk, lays up a fund of spiritual strength. With large significance, St. James declares, "If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man, able also to bridle the whole body." He is entire, powerful, because he has not spent his strength. In these days of loud profession, and bitter, fluent condemnation, it is well for us to learn the divine force of silence. Remember Christ in the Judgment Hall, the very Symbol and Incarnation of spiritual strength; and yet when revilings were loud around Him and charges multiplied, "He held His peace." 2. The next feature in the guilt of calumny is its uncontrollable character: "the tongue can no man tame." You cannot arrest a calumnious tongue, you cannot arrest the calumny itself; you may refute a slanderer, you may trace home a slander to its source, you may expose the author of it, you may by that exposure give a lesson so severe as to make the repetition of the offence appear impossible; but the fatal habit is incorrigible: to-morrow the tongue is at work again. Neither can you stop the consequences of a slander; you may publicly prove its falsehood, you may sift every atom, explain and annihilate it, and yet, years after you had thought that all had been disposed of for ever, the mention of a name wakes up associations in the mind of some one who heard the calumny, but never heard or never attended to the refutation, or who has only a vague and confused recollection of the whole, and he asks the question doubtfully, "But were there not some suspicious circumstances connected with him?" It is like the Greek fire used in ancient warfare, which burnt unquenched beneath the water, or like the weeds which when you have extirpated them in one place are sprouting forth vigorously in another spot, at the distance of many hundred yards; or, to use the metaphor of St. James himself, it is like the wheel which catches fire as it goes, and burns with a fiercer conflagration as its own speed increases; "it sets on fire the whole course of nature" (literally, the wheel of nature). You may tame the wild beast, the conflagration of the American forest will cease when all the timber and the dry underwood is consumed; but you cannot arrest the progress of that cruel word which you uttered carelessly yesterday or this morning,--which you will utter perhaps, before you have passed from this church one hundred yards: that will go on slaying, poisoning, burning beyond your own control, now and for ever. 3. The third element of guilt lies in the unnaturalness of calumny. "My brethren, these things ought not so to be;" _ought not_--that is, they are unnatural. That this is St. James's meaning is evident from the second illustration which follows: "Doth a fountain send forth at the same place, sweet water and bitter?" "Can the fig tree, my brethren, bear olive berries, or a vine, figs?" There is apparently in these metaphors little that affords an argument against slander; the motive which they suggest would appear to many far-fetched and of small cogency; but to one who looks on this world as a vast whole, and who has recognised the moral law as only a part of the great law of the universe, harmoniously blending with the whole, illustrations such as these are the most powerful of all arguments. The truest definition of evil is that which represents it as something contrary to nature: evil is evil, because it is unnatural; a vine which should bear olive berries, an eye to which blue seems yellow, would be diseased: an unnatural mother, an unnatural son, an unnatural act, are the strongest terms of condemnation. It is this view which Christianity gives of moral evil: the teaching of Christ was the recall of man to nature, not an infusion of something new into Humanity. Christ came to call out all the principles and powers of human nature, to restore the natural equilibrium of all our faculties; not to call us back to our own individual selfish nature, but to human nature as it is in God's ideal--the perfect type which is to be realised in us. Christianity is the regeneration of our whole nature, not the destruction of one atom of it. Now the nature of man is to adore God and to love what is god-like in man. The office of the tongue is to bless. Slander is guilty because it contradicts this; yet even in slander itself, perversion as it is, the interest of man in man is still distinguishable. What is it but perverted interest which makes the acts, and words, and thoughts of his brethren, even in their evil, a matter of such strange delight? Remember therefore, this contradicts your nature and your destiny; to speak ill of others makes you a monster in God's world: get the habit of slander, and then there is not a stream which bubbles fresh from the heart of nature,--there is not a tree that silently brings forth its genial fruit in its appointed season,--which does not rebuke and proclaim you to be a monstrous anomaly in God's world. 4. The fourth point of guilt is the diabolical character of slander; the tongue "is set on fire of hell." Now, this is no mere strong expression--no mere indignant vituperation--it contains deep and emphatic meaning. The apostle means literally what he says, slander is diabolical. The first illustration we give of this is contained in the very meaning of the word devil. "Devil," in the original, means traducer or slanderer. The first introduction of a demon spirit is found connected with a slanderous insinuation against the Almighty, implying that His command had been given in envy of His creature: "for God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil." In the magnificent imagery of the book of Job, the accuser is introduced with a demoniacal and malignant sneer, attributing the excellence of a good man to interested motives; "Doth Job serve God for naught?" There is another mode in which the fearful accuracy of St. James's charge may be demonstrated. There is one state only from which there is said to be no recovery--there is but one sin that is called unpardonable. The Pharisees beheld the works of Jesus. They could not deny that they were good works, they could not deny that they were miracles of beneficence, but rather than acknowledge that they were done by a good man through the co-operation of a Divine spirit, they preferred to account for them by the wildest and most incredible hypothesis; they said they were done by the power of Beelzebub, the prince of the devils. It was upon this occasion that our Redeemer said with solemn meaning, "For every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account in the day of judgment." It was then that He said, for a word spoken against the Holy Ghost there is no forgiveness in this world, or in the world to come. Our own hearts respond to the truth of this--to call evil, good, and good, evil--to see the Divinest good, and call it Satanic evil--below this lowest deep there is _not_ a lower still. There is no cure for mortification of the flesh--there is no remedy for ossification of the heart. Oh! that miserable state, when to the jaundiced eye all good transforms itself into evil, and the very instruments of health become the poison of disease. Beware of every approach of this!--Beware of that spirit which controversy fosters, of watching only for the evil in the character of an antagonist!--Beware of that habit which becomes the slanderer's life, of magnifying every speck of evil and closing the eye to goodness!--till at last men arrive at the state in which generous, universal love (which is heaven) becomes impossible, and a suspicious, universal hate takes possession of the heart, and _that_ is hell! There is one peculiar manifestation of this spirit to which I desire specially to direct your attention. The politics of the community are guided by the political press. The religious views of a vast number are formed by that portion of the press which is called religious; it becomes, therefore, a matter of deepest interest to inquire what is the spirit of that "religious press." I am not asking you what are the views maintained--whether Evangelical, Anglican, or Romish--but what is the _spirit_ of that fountain from which the religious life of so many is nourished? Let any man cast his eye over the pages of this portion of the press--it matters little to which party the newspaper or the journal may belong--he will be startled to find the characters of those whom he has most deeply reverenced, whose hearts he knows, whose integrity and life are above suspicion, held up to scorn and hatred: the organ of one party is established against the organ of another, and it is the recognised office of each to point out with microscopic care the names of those whose views are to be shunned; and in order that these may be the more shrunk from, the characters of those who hold such opinions are traduced and vilified. There is no personality too mean--there is no insinuation too audacious or too false for the recklessness of these daring slanderers. I do not like to use the expression, lest it should appear to be merely one of theatrical vehemence; but I say it in all seriousness, adopting the inspired language of the Bible, and using it advisedly and with accurate meaning, the spirit which guides the "religious press" of this country, which dictates those personalities, which prevents controversialists from seeing what is good in their opponents, which attributes low motives to account for excellent lives, and teaches men whom to suspect, and shun, rather than point out where it is possible to admire and love--is a spirit "set on fire of hell." Before we conclude, let us get at the root of the matter. "Man," says the Apostle James, "was made in the image of God:" to slander man is to slander God: to love what is good in man is to love it in God. Love is the only remedy for slander: no set of rules or restrictions can stop it; we may denounce, but we shall denounce in vain. The radical cure of it is Charity--"out of a pure heart and faith unfeigned," to feel what is great in the human character; to recognise with delight all high, and generous, and beautiful actions; to find a joy even in seeing the good qualities of your bitterest opponents, and to admire those qualities even in those with whom you have least sympathy--be it either the Romanist or the Unitarian--this is the only spirit which can heal the love of slander and of calumny. If we would bless God, we must _first_ learn to bless man, who is made in the image of God. II. _Preached May 5, 1850._ THE VICTORY OF FAITH. "For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God?"--1 John v. 4-5. There are two words in the system of Christianity which have received a meaning so new, and so emphatic, as to be in a way peculiar to it, and to distinguish it from all other systems of morality and religion; these two words are--the World, and Faith. We find it written in Scripture that to have the friendship of the world is to be the enemy of God--- whereupon the question arises--The world?--did not God make the world? Did He not place us in the world? Are we not to love what God has made? And yet meeting this distinctly we have the inspired record, "Love not the World." The object of the Statesman is, or ought to be, to produce as much worldly prosperity as possible--but Christianity, that is Christ, speaks little of this world's prosperity, underrates it--nay, speaks of it at times as infinitely dangerous. The legislator prohibits crime--the moralist transgression--the religionist sin. To these Christianity superadds a new enemy--the world and the things of the world. "If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." The other word used in a peculiar sense is Faith. It is impossible for any one to have read his Bible ever so negligently, and not to be aware that the word Faith, or the grace of Faith, forms a large element in the Christian system. It is said to work miracles, remove mountains, justify the soul, trample upon impossibilities. Every apostle, in his way, assigns to faith a primary importance. Jude tells us to "build up ourselves in our most holy faith." John tells us that--"he that believeth that Jesus is the Christ, is the born of God;" and Paul tells us that, not by merit nor by works, but by trust or reliance only, can be formed that state of soul by which man is reckoned just before God. In these expressions, the apostles only develope their Master's meaning, when He uses such words as these, "All things are possible to him that believeth:" "O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" These two words are brought into diametrical opposition in the text, so that it branches into a two-fold line of thought I. The Christian's enemy, the World. II. The victory of Faith. In endeavouring to understand first what is meant by the world, we shall feel that the mass of evil which is comprehended under this expression, cannot be told out in any one sermon; it is an expression used in various ways, sometimes meaning one thing, sometimes meaning another;-but we will endeavour to explain its general principles--and these we will divide into three heads; first, the tyranny of the present; secondly, the tyranny of the sensual; and lastly, the spirit of society. 1. The tyranny of the present. "Christ," says the Apostle Paul, "hath redeemed us from this present evil world;" and again, "Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this, present world." Let a stress be laid on the word _present_. Worldliness is the attractive power of something present, in opposition to something to come. It is this rule and tyranny of the present that constitutes Demas a worldly man. In this respect, worldliness is the spirit of childhood carried on into manhood. The child lives in the present hour--to-day to him is everything. The holiday promised at a distant interval is no holiday at all--it must be either now or never. Natural in the child, and therefore pardonable, this spirit, when carried on into manhood, is coarse--is worldliness. The most distinct illustration given us of this, is the case of Esau. Esau came from the hunting-field worn and hungry; the only means of procuring the tempting mess of his brother's pottage was the sacrifice of his father's blessing, which in those ages carried with it a substantial advantage; but that birthright could be enjoyed only after _years_--the pottage was _present_, near, and certain; therefore he sacrificed a future and higher blessing, for a present and lower pleasure. For this reason Esau is the Bible type of worldliness: he is called in Scripture a profane, that is, not a distinctly vicious, but a secular or worldly person--an overgrown child; impetuous, inconsistent, not without gleams of generosity and kindliness, but ever accustomed to immediate gratification. In this worldliness, moreover, is to be remarked the gamester's desperate play. There is a gambling spirit in human nature. Esau distinctly expresses this: "Behold I am at the point to die, and what shall my birthright profit me?" He might never live to enjoy his birthright; but the pottage was before him, present, certain, _there_. Now, observe the utter powerlessness of mere preaching to cope with this tyrannical power of the present. Forty thousand pulpits throughout the land this day, will declaim against the vanity of riches, the uncertainty of life, the sin of worldliness--against the gambling spirit of human nature; I ask what _impression_ will be produced by those forty thousand harangues? In every congregation it is reducible to a certainty that, before a year has passed, some will be numbered with the dead. Every man knows this, but he thinks the chances are that it will not be himself; he feels it a solemn thing for Humanity generally--but for himself there is more than a chance. Upon this chance he plays away life. It is so with the child: you tell him of the consequences of to-day's idleness--but the sun is shining brightly, and he cannot sacrifice to-day's pleasure, although he knows the disgrace it will bring to-morrow. So it is with the intemperate man: he says--"Sufficient unto the day is the evil, and the good thereof; let me have my portion now." So that one great secret of the world's victory lies in the mighty power of saying "_Now_." 2. The tyranny of the sensual. I call it _tyranny_, because the evidences of the senses are all powerful, in spite of the protestations of the reason. In vain you try to persuade the child that _he_ is moving, and not the trees which seem to flit past the carriage--in vain we remind ourselves that this apparently solid earth on which we stand, and which seems so immoveable, is in reality flying through the regions of space with an inconceivable rapidity--in vain philosophers would persuade us that the colour which the eye beholds, resides not in the object itself, but in our own perception; we are victims of the apparent, and the verdict of the senses is taken instead of the verdict of the reason. Precisely so is it with the enjoyments of the world. The man who died yesterday, and whom the world called a successful man--for what did he live?--He lived for this world--he gained this world. Houses, lands, name, position in society--all that earth could give of enjoyments--he had: he was the man of whom the Redeemer said that his thoughts were occupied in planning how to pull down his barns and build greater. We hear men complain of the sordid love of gold, but gold is merely a medium of exchange for other things: gold is land, titles, name, comfort--all that the world can give. If the world be _all_, it is _wise_ to live for gold. There may be some little difference in the degree of degradation in different forms of worldliness; it is possible that the ambitious man who lives for power is somewhat higher than he who merely lives for applause, and he again may be a trifle higher than the mere seeker after gold--but after all, looking closely at the matter, you will find that, in respect of the objects of their idolatry, they agree in this, that all belong to the present. Therefore, says the Apostle, all that is in the world--"the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but of the world," and are only various forms of one great tyranny. And then when such a man is at the brink of death, the words said to the man in our Lord's parable must be said to him. "Thou fool, the houses thou hast built, the enjoyments thou hast prepared; and all those things which have formed thy life for years--when thy soul is taken from them, what shall they profit thee?" 3. The spirit of society. The _World_ has various meanings in Scripture; it does not always mean the Visible, as opposed to the Invisible; nor the Present, as opposed to the Future: it sometimes stands for the secular spirit of the day--the Voice of Society. Our Saviour says, "If ye were of the world, the world would love his own." The apostle says, "Be not conformed to this world;" and to the Gentiles he writes, "In time past ye walked according to the course of this world, the spirit which now worketh in the children of disobedience." In these verses, a tone, a temper, a spirit is spoken of. There are two things--the Church and the World--two spirits pervading different bodies of men, brought before us in these verses--those called the Spirit-born, and those called the World, which is to be overcome by the Spirit-born, as in the text, "Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world." Let us understand what is meant by the Church of God. When we speak of the Church we generally mean a society to aid men in their progress God-wards; but the Church of God is by no means co-extensive in any age with that organized institution which we _call_ the Church; sometimes it is nearly co-extensive--that is, nearly all on earth who are born of God are found within its pale, nearly all who are of the world are extraneous to it--but sometimes the born of God have been found distinct from the Institution called the Church, opposed to it--persecuted by it. The Institution of the Church is a blessed ordinance of God, organized on earth for the purpose of representing the Eternal Church and of extending its limits, but still ever subordinate to it. The Eternal Church is "the general assembly and church of the first-born which are written in heaven;" the selected spirits of the most High, who are struggling with the evil of their day; sometimes alone, like Elijah, and like him, longing that their work was done; sometimes conscious of their union with each other. God is for ever raising up a succession of these--His brave, His true, His good. Apostolical succession, as taught sometimes, means simply this--a succession of miraculous powers flowing in a certain line. The true apostolic succession is--not a succession in an hereditary line, or line marked by visible signs which men can always identify, but a succession emphatically spiritual. The Jews looked for an hereditary succession; they thought that because they were Abraham's seed, the spiritual succession was preserved; the Redeemer told them that "God was able of those stones to raise up children unto Abraham." Therefore is this ever a spiritual succession--in the hands of God alone; and they are here called the God-born, coming into the world variously qualified; sometimes baptized with the spirit which makes them, like James and John, the "Sons of Thunder," sometimes with a milder spirit, as Barnabas, which makes them "Sons of Consolation," sometimes having their souls indurated into an adamantine hardness, which makes them living stones--rocks like Peter, against which the billows of this world dash themselves in vain, and against which the gates of hell shall not prevail. But whether as apostles, or visitors of the poor, or parents of a family, born to do a work on earth, to speak a word, to discharge a mission which they themselves perhaps do not know till it is accomplished--these are the Church of God--the children of the Most High--the noble army of the Spirit-born! Opposed to this stands the mighty confederacy called the World. But beware of fixing on individual men in order to stigmatize _them_ as the world. You may not draw a line and say--"We are the sons of God, ye are of the world." The world is not so much individual as it is a certain spirit; the course of this world is "the spirit which now worketh in the children of disobedience." The world and the Church are annexed as inseparably as the elements which compose the atmosphere. Take the smallest portion of this that you will, in a cubic inch the same proportions are found as in a temple. In the ark there was a Ham; in the small band of the twelve apostles there was a Judas. The spirit of the world is for ever altering--impalpable; for ever eluding, in fresh forms, your attempts to seize it. In the days of Noah, the spirit of the world was _violence_. In Elijah's day it was _idolatry_. In the day of Christ it was _power_ concentrated and condensed in the government of Rome. In ours, perhaps, it is the _love of money_. It enters in different proportions into different bosoms; it is found in a different form in contiguous towns; in the fashionable watering place, and in the commercial city: it is this thing at Athens, and another in Corinth. This is the spirit of the world--a thing in my heart and yours: to be struggled against, not so much in the case of others, as in the silent battle to be done within our own souls. Pass we on now to consider-- II. The victory of faith. Faith is a theological expression; we are apt to forget that it has any other than a theological import; yet it is the commonest principle of man's daily life, called in that region prudence, enterprise, or some such name. It is in effect the principle on which alone any human superiority can be gained. Faith, in religion, is the same principle as faith in worldly matters, differing only in its object: it rises through successive stages. When, in reliance upon your promise, your child gives up the half-hour's idleness of to-day for the holiday of to-morrow, he lives by faith; a future supersedes the present pleasure. When he abstains from over-indulgence of the appetite, in reliance upon your word that the result will be pain and sickness, sacrificing the present pleasure for fear of future punishment, he acts on faith: I do not say that this is a high exercise of faith--it is a very low one--but it _is_ faith. Once more: the same motive of action may be carried on into manhood; in our own times two religious principles have been exemplified in the subjugation of a vice. The habit of intoxication has been broken by an appeal to the principle of combination, and the principle of belief. Men were taught to feel that they were not solitary stragglers against the vice; they were enrolled in a mighty army, identified in principles and interests. Here was the principle of the Church--association for reciprocated strength; they were thus taught the inevitable result of the indulgence of the vice. The missionaries of temperance went through the country contrasting the wretchedness and the degradation and the filth of drunkenness with the domestic comfort, and the health, and the regular employment of those who were masters of themselves. So far as men believed this, and gave up the tyranny of the present for the hope of the future--so far they lived by faith. Brethren, I do not say that this was a high triumph for the principle of faith; it was in fact, little more than selfishness; it was a high future balanced against a low present; only the preference of a future and higher physical enjoyment to a mean and lower one. Yet still to be ruled by this influence raises a man in the scale of being: it is a low virtue, prudence, a form of selfishness; yet prudence _is_ a virtue. The merchant, who forecasts, saves, denies himself systematically through years, to amass a fortune, is not a very lofty being, yet he is higher, as a man, than he who is sunk in mere bodily gratifications. You would not say that the intemperate man--who has become temperate in order, merely to gain by that temperance honour and happiness--is a great man, but you would say he was a higher and a better man than he who is enslaved by his passions, or than the gambler who improvidently stakes all upon a moment's throw. The worldly mother who plans for the advancement of a family, and sacrifices solid enjoyments for a splendid alliance, is only _worldly_ wise, yet in that manoeuvring and worldly prudence there is the exercise of a self-control which raises her above the mere giddy pleasure-hunter of the hour; for want of self-control is the weakness of our nature--to restrain, to wait, to control present feeling with a large foresight, is human strength. Once more, instead of a faith like that of the child, which over-leaps a few hours, or that of the worldly man, which over-passes years, there may be a faith which transcends the whole span of life, and, instead of looking for temporal enjoyments, looks for rewards in a future beyond the grave, instead of a future limited to time. This is again a step. The child has sacrificed a day; the man has sacrificed a little more. Faith has now reached a stage which deserves to be called religious; not that this however, is very grand; it does but prefer a happiness hereafter to a happiness enjoyed here--an eternal well-being instead of a temporal well-being; it is but prudence on a grand scale--another form of selfishness--an anticipation of infinite rewards instead of finite, and not the more noble because of the infinitude of the gain: and yet this is what is often taught as religion in books and sermons. We are told that sin is wrong, because it will make us miserable hereafter. Guilt is represented as the short-sightedness which barters for a home on earth--a home in heaven. In the text-book of ethics studied in one of our universities, virtue is defined as that which is done at the command of God for the sake of an eternal reward. So then, religion is nothing more than a calculation of infinite and finite quantities; vice is nothing more than a grand imprudence; and heaven is nothing more than selfishness rewarded with eternal well-being! Yet this you will observe, is a necessary step in the development of faith. Faith is the conviction that God is a rewarder of them who diligently seek Him; and there is a moment in human progress when the anticipated rewards and punishments must be of a Mahometan character--the happiness of the senses. It was thus that the Jews were disciplined; out of a coarse, rude, infantine state, they were educated by rewards and punishments to abstain from present sinful gratification: at first, the promise of the life which now is, afterwards the promise of that which is to come; but even then the rewards and punishments of a future state were spoken of, by inspiration itself, as of an arbitrary character; and some of the best of the Israelites, in looking to the recompense of reward, seemed to have anticipated, coarsely, recompense in exchange for duties performed. The last step is that which alone deserves to be called Christian Faith--"Who is he that overcometh but he that believeth that Jesus is the Christ?" The difference between the faith of the Christian and that of the man of the world, or the mere ordinary religionist, is not a difference in mental operation, but in the object of the faith--to believe that Jesus is the Christ is the peculiarity of Christian faith. The anticipated heaven of the Christian differs from the anticipated heaven of any other man, not in the distinctness with which its imagery is perceived, but in the kind of objects which are hoped for. The apostle has told us the character of heaven. "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him"--which glorious words are sometimes strangely misinterpreted, as if the apostle merely meant rhetorically to exalt the conception of the heavenly world, as of something beyond all power to imagine or to paint. The apostle meant something infinitely deeper: the heaven of God is not only that which "eye hath not seen," but that which eye can _never_ see; its glories are not of that kind at all which can ever stream in forms of beauty on the eye, or pour in melody upon the enraptured ear--not such joys as genius in its most gifted hour (here called "the heart of man") can invent or imagine: it is something which these sensuous organs of ours never can appreciate--bliss of another kind altogether, revealed to the spirit of man by the Spirit of God--joys such as spirit alone can receive. Do you ask what these are? "The fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." That is heaven, and therefore the Apostle tells us that he alone who "believeth that Jesus is the Christ," and only he, feels that. What is it to believe that Jesus is the Christ?--That He is the Anointed One, that His life is the anointed life, the only blessed life, the blessed life divine for thirty years?--Yes, but if so, the blessed Life still, continued throughout all eternity: unless you believe that, you do not believe that Jesus is the Christ. What is the blessedness that you expect?--to have the joys of earth with the addition of the element of eternity? Men think that heaven is to be a compensation for earthly loss: the saints are earthly-wretched here, the children of this world are earthly-happy; but _that_, they think, shall be all reversed--Lazarus, beyond the grave, shall have the purple and the fine linen, and the splendour, and the houses, and the lands which Dives had on earth: the one had them for time, the other shall have them for eternity. That is the heaven that men expect--this earth sacrificed _now_, in order that it may be re-granted for _ever_. Nor will this expectation be reversed except by a reversal of the nature. None can anticipate such a heaven as God has revealed, except they that are born of the Spirit; therefore to believe that Jesus is the Christ, a man must be born of God. You will observe that no other victory overcomes the world: for this is what St. John means by saying, "Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Christ?" For then it comes to pass that a man begins to feel, that to do wrong is hell; and that to love God, to be like God, to have the mind of Christ, is the only heaven. Until this victory is gained, the world retains its stronghold in the heart. Do you think that the temperate man has overcome the world, who, instead of the short-lived rapture of intoxication, chooses regular employment, health, and prosperity? Is it not the world in another form, which has his homage? Or do you suppose that the so-called religious man is really the world's conqueror by being content to give up seventy years of enjoyment in order to win innumerable ages of the very same species of enjoyment? Has he not only made earth a hell, in order that earthly things may be his heaven for ever? Thus the victory of Faith proceeds from stage to stage: the first victory is, when the Present is conquered by the Future; the last, when the Visible and Sensual is despised in comparison of the Invisible and Eternal. Then earth has lost its power for ever; for if _all_ that it has to give be lost eternally, the gain of faith is still infinite. III. _Preached Whitsunday, May 19, 1850._ THE DISPENSATION OF THE SPIRIT. "Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit."--1 Corinthians xii, 4. According to a view which contains in it a profound truth, the ages of the world are divisible into three dispensations, presided over by the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. In the dispensation of the Father, God was known as a Creator; creation manifested His eternal power and Godhead, and the religion of mankind was the religion of Nature. In the dispensation of the Son, God manifested Himself to Humanity through man; the Eternal Word spoke, through the inspired and gifted of the human race, to those that were uninspired and ungifted. This was the dispensation of the prophets--its climax was the advent of the Redeemer; it was completed when _perfect_ Humanity manifested God to man. The characteristic of this dispensation was, that God revealed Himself by an authoritative Voice, speaking from without, and the highest manifestation of God whereof man was capable, was a Divine Humanity. The age in which we at present live is the dispensation of the Spirit, in which God has communicated Himself by the highest revelation, and in the most intimate communion, of which man is capable; no longer through Creation, no more as an authoritative Voice from without, but as a Law within--as a Spirit mingling with a spirit. This is the dispensation of which the prophet said of old, that the time should come when they should no longer teach every man his brother and every man his neighbour, saying, "Know the Lord"--that is, by a will revealed by external authority from other human minds--"for they shall all know him, from the least of them to the greatest." This is the dispensation, too, of whose close the Apostle Paul speaks thus: "Then shall the Son also be subject to Him that hath put all things under Him, that God may be all in all." The outward humanity is to disappear, that the inward union may be complete. To the same effect, he speaks in another place, "Yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet henceforth know we Him no more." For this reason, the Ascension was necessary before Pentecost could come: the Spirit was not given, we are told, because Jesus was not yet glorified. It was necessary for the Son to disappear as an outward authority, in order that he might re-appear as an inward principle of life. Our salvation is no longer God manifested in a Christ _without_ us, but as a Christ _within_ us, the hope of glory. To-day is the selected anniversary of that memorable day when the first proof was given to the senses, in the gift of Pentecost, that that spiritual dispensation had begun. There is a twofold way in which the operations of the Spirit on mankind may be considered--His influence on the Church as a whole, and His influence on individuals; both of these are brought together in the text. It branches, therefore, into a twofold division. I. Spiritual gifts conferred on individuals. II. Spiritual union of the Church. Let us distinguish between the Spirit and the gifts of the Spirit: by the Spirit, the apostle meant the vital principle of new life from God, common to all believers--the animating Spirit of the Church of God; by the gifts of the Spirit, he meant the diversities of form in which He operates on individuals; its influence varied according to their respective peculiarities and characteristics. In the twenty-eighth verse of this chapter a full catalogue of gifts is found; looking at them generally, we discover two classes into which they may be divided--the first are natural, the second are supernatural: the first are those capacities which are originally found in human nature--personal endowments of mind, a character elevated and enlarged by the gift of the Spirit; the second are those which were created and called into existence by the sudden approach of the same influence. Just as if the temperature of this Northern hemisphere were raised suddenly, and a mighty tropical river were to pour its fertilizing inundation over the country, the result would be the impartation of a vigorous and gigantic growth to the vegetation already in existence, and at the same time the development of life in seeds and germs which had long lain latent in the soil, incapable of vegetation in the unkindly climate of their birth. Exactly in the same way, the flood of a Divine life, poured suddenly into the souls of men, enlarged and ennobled qualities which had been used already, and at the same time _developed_ powers which never could have become apparent in the cold, low temperature of natural life. Among the natural gifts, we may instance these: teaching--healing--the power of government. Teaching is a gift, natural or acquired. To know, is one thing; to have the capacity of imparting knowledge, is another. The physician's art again is no supernatural mystery; long and careful study of physical laws capacitate him for his task. To govern, again, is a natural faculty: it may be acquired by habit, but there are some who never could acquire it. Some men seem born to command: place them in what sphere you will, others acknowledge their secret influence, and subordinate themselves to their will. The faculty of organization, the secret of rule, need no supernatural power. They exist among the uninspired. Now the doctrine of the apostle was, that all these are transformed and renovated by the spirit of a new life in such a way as to become almost new powers, or, as he calls them, gifts of the Spirit. A remarkable illustration of this is his view of the human body. If there be anything common to us by nature, it is the members of our corporeal frame; yet the apostle taught that these, guided by the Spirit as its instruments and obeying a holy will, became transfigured; so that, in his language, the body becomes a temple of the Holy Ghost, and the meanest faculties, the lowest appetites, the humblest organs, are ennobled by the Spirit mind which guides them. Thus he bids the Romans yield themselves "unto God as those that are alive from the dead, and their members as instruments of righteousness unto God." The second class of gifts are supernatural: of these we find two pre-eminent--the gift of tongues, and the gift of prophecy. It does not appear that the gift of tongues was merely the imparted faculty of speaking foreign languages--it could not be that the highest gift of God to His Church merely made them rivals of the linguist; it would rather seem that the Spirit of God, mingling with the soul of man, supernaturally elevated its aspirations and glorified its conceptions, so that an entranced state of ecstasy was produced, and feelings called into energy, for the expression of which the ordinary forms of speech were found inadequate. Even in a far lower department, when a man becomes possessed of ideas for which his ordinary vocabulary supplies no sufficient expression, his language becomes broken, incoherent, struggling, and almost unnaturally elevated; much more was it to be expected that when divine and new feelings rushed like a flood upon the soul, the language of men would have become strange and extraordinary; but in that supposed case, wild as the expressions might appear to one coldly looking on and not participating in the feelings of the speaker, they would be quite sufficient to convey intelligible meaning to any one affected by the same emotions. Where perfect sympathy exists, incoherent utterance--a word--a syllable--is quite as efficient as elaborate sentences. Now this is precisely the account given of the phenomenon which attended the gift of tongues. On the day of Pentecost, all who were in the same state of spiritual emotion as those who spoke, understood the speakers; each was as intelligible to all as if he spoke in their several tongues: to those who were coolly and sceptically watching, the effects appeared like those of intoxication. A similar account is given by the Apostle Paul: the voice appeared to unsympathetic ears as that of a barbarian; the uninitiated and unbelieving coming in, heard nothing that was articulate to them, but only what seemed to them the ravings of insanity. The next was the gift of prophecy. Prophecy has several meanings in Scripture; sometimes it means the power of predicting future events, sometimes an entranced state accompanied with ravings, sometimes it appears to mean only exposition; but prophecy, as the miraculous spiritual gift granted to the early Church, seems to have been a state of communion with the mind of God lower than that which was called the gift of tongues, at least less ecstatic, less rapt into the world to come, more under the guidance of the reason, more within the control of calm consciousness--as we might say, less supernatural. Upon these gifts we make two observations: 1. Even the highest were not accompanied with spiritual faultlessness. Inspiration was one thing, infallibility another. The gifts of the Spirit were, like the gifts of Nature, subordinated to the will--capable of being used for good or evil, sometimes pure, sometimes mixed with human infirmity. The supernaturally gifted man was no mere machine, no automaton ruled in spite of himself by a superior spirit. Disorder, vanity, over-weening self-estimation, might accompany these gifts, and the prophetic utterance itself might be degraded to a mere brawling in the Church; therefore St. Paul established laws of control, declared the need of subjection and rule over spiritual gifts: the spirits of the prophets were to be subject to the prophets; if those in the ecstatic state were tempted to break out into utterance and unable to interpret what it meant, those so gifted were to hold their peace. The prophet poured out the truths supernaturally imparted to his highest spirit, in an inspired and impassioned eloquence which was intelligible even to the unspiritual, and was one of the appointed means of convincing the unconverted. The lesson derivable from this is not obsolete even in the present day. There is nothing perhaps precisely identical in our own day with those gifts of the early Church; but genius and talent are uncommon gifts, which stand in a somewhat analogous relation--in a closer one certainly--than more ordinary endowments. The flights of genius, we know, appear like maniac ravings to minds not elevated to the same spiritual level. Now these are perfectly compatible with mis-use, abuse, and moral disorder. The most gifted of our countrymen has left this behind him as his epitaph, "The greatest, wisest, _meanest_ of mankind." The most glorious gift of poetic insight--itself in a way divine--having something akin to Deity--is too often associated with degraded life and vicious character. Those gifts which elevate us above the rest of our species, whereby we stand aloof and separate from the crowd, convey no moral--nor even mental--infallibility: nay, they have in themselves a peculiar danger, whereas that gift which is common to us all as brethren, the animating spirit of a divine life, in whose soil the spiritual being of all is rooted, cannot make us vain; we _cannot_ pride ourselves on _that_, for it is common to us all. 2. Again, the gifts which were higher in one sense were lower in another; as supernatural gifts they would rank thus--the gift of tongues before prophecy, and prophecy before teaching; but as blessings to be desired, this order is reversed: rather than the gift of tongues St. Paul bids the Corinthians desire that they might prophecy. Inferior again to prophecy was the quite simple, and as we should say, lower faculty of explaining truth. Now the principle upon which that was tried was that of utility--not utility in the low sense of the utilitarian, who measures the value of a thing by its susceptibility of application to the purpose of this present life, but a utility whose measure was love, charity. The apostle considered _that_ gift most desirable by which men might most edify one another. And hence that noble declaration of one of the most gifted of mankind--"I had rather speak five words with my understanding, that I might teach others also, than ten thousand words in an unknown tongue." Our estimate is almost the reverse of this: we value a gift in proportion to its rarity, its distinctive character, separating its possessor from the rest of his fellow-men; whereas, in truth, those gifts which leave us in lonely majesty apart from our species, useless to them, benefiting ourselves alone, are not the most godlike, but the least so; because they are dissevered from that beneficent charity which is the very being of God. Your lofty incommunicable thoughts, your ecstasies, and aspirations, and contemplative raptures--in virtue of which you have estimated yourself as the porcelain of the earth, of another nature altogether than the clay of common spirits--tried by the test of Charity, what is there grand in these if they cannot be applied as blessings to those that are beneath you? One of our countrymen has achieved for himself extraordinary scientific renown; he pierced the mysteries of nature, he analysed her processes, he gave new elements to the world. The same man applied his rare intellect to the construction of a simple and very common instrument--that well-known lamp which has been the guardian of the miner's life from the explosion of fire. His discoveries are his nobility in this world, his trifling invention gives him rank in the world to come. By the former he shines as one of the brightest luminaries in the firmament of science, by the latter evincing a spirit animated and directed by Christian love, he takes his place as one of the Church of God. And such is ever the true order of rank which graces occupy in reference to gifts. The most trifling act which is marked by usefulness to others is nobler in God's sight, than the most brilliant accomplishment of genius. To teach a few Sunday-school children, week after week, commonplace simple truths--persevering in spite of dullness and mean capacities--is a more glorious occupation than the highest meditations or creations of genius which edify or instruct only our own solitary soul. II. The spiritual unity of the Church--"the same Spirit." Men have formed to themselves two ideas of unity: the first is a sameness of form--of expression; the second an identity of spirit. Some of the best of mankind have fondly hoped to realize an unity for the Church of Christ which should be manifested by uniform expressions in everything: their imaginations have loved to paint, as the ideal of a Christian Church, a state in which the same liturgy should be used throughout the world, the same ecclesiastical government, even the same vestments, the same canonical hours, the same form of architecture. They could conceive nothing more entirely one than a Church so constituted that the same prayers, in the very same expressions, at the very same moment, should be ascending to the Eternal Ear. There are others who have thrown aside entirely this idea as chimerical; who have not only ceased to hope it, but even to wish it; who if it could be realized, would consider it a matter of regret; who feel that the minds of men are various--their modes and habits of thought, their original capacities and acquired associations, infinitely diverse; and who, perceiving that the law of the universal system is manifoldness in unity, have ceased to expect any other oneness for the Church of Christ than that of a sameness of spirit, showing itself through diversities of gifts. Among these last was the Apostle Paul: his large and glorious mind rejoiced in the contemplation of the countless manifestations of spiritual nature beneath which he detected one and the same pervading Mind. Now let us look at this matter somewhat more closely. 1. All real unity is manifold. Feelings in themselves identical find countless forms of expression: for instance, sorrow is the same feeling throughout the human race; but the Oriental prostrates himself upon the ground, throws dust upon his head, tears his garments, is not ashamed to break out into the most violent lamentations. In the north, we rule our grief in public; suffer not even a quiver to be seen upon the lip or brow, and consider calmness as the appropriate expression of manly grief. Nay, two sisters of different temperament will show their grief diversely; one will love to dwell upon the theme of the qualities of the departed, the other feels it a sacred sorrow, on which the lips are sealed for ever; yet would it not be idle to ask which of them has the truest affection? Are they not both in their own way true? In the same East, men take off their sandals in devotion; we exactly reverse the procedure, and uncover the head. The Oriental prostrates himself in the dust before his sovereign; even before his God the Briton only kneels; yet would it not again be idle to ask which is the essential and proper form of reverence? Is not true reverence in all cases modified by the individualities of temperament and education? Should we not say, in all these forms worketh one and the same spirit of reverence? Again in the world as God has made it, one law shows itself under diverse, even opposite manifestations; lead sinks in water, wood floats upon the surface. In former times men assigned these different results to different forces, laws, and gods. A knowledge of Nature has demonstrated that they are expressions of one and the same law; and the great difference between the educated and the uneducated man is this--the uneducated sees in this world nothing but an infinite collection of unconnected facts--a broken, distorted, and fragmentary system, which his mind can by no means reduce to order. The educated man, in proportion to his education, sees the number of laws diminished--beholds in the manifold appearances of Nature the expression of a few laws, by degrees fewer, till at last it becomes possible to his conception that they are all reducible to one, and that that which lies beneath the innumerable phenomena of Nature is the One Spirit--God. 2. All _living_ unity is spiritual, not formal; not sameness, but manifoldness. You may have a unity shown in identity of form; but it is a lifeless unity. There is a sameness on the sea-beach--that unity which the ocean waves have produced by curling and forcibly destroying the angularities of individual form, so that every stone presents the same monotony of aspect, and you must fracture each again in order to distinguish whether you hold in your hand a mass of flint or fragment of basalt. There is no life in unity such as this. But as soon as you arrive at a unity that is living, the form becomes more complex, and you search in vain for uniformity. In the parts, it must be found, if found at all, in the sameness of the pervading life. The illustration given by the apostle is that of the human body--a higher unity, he says, by being composed of many members, than if every member were but a repetition of a single type. It is conceivable that God might have moulded such a form for human life; it is conceivable that every cause, instead of producing in different nerves a variety of sensations, should have affected every one in a mode precisely similar; that instead of producing a sensation of sound--a sensation of colour--a sensation of taste--the outward causes of nature, be they what they may, should have given but one unvaried feeling to every sense, and that the whole universe should have been light or sound. That would have been unity, if sameness be unity; but, says the apostle, "if the whole body were seeing, where were the hearing?" That uniformity would have been irreparable loss--the loss of every part that was merged into the one. What is the body's unity? Is it not this? The unity of a living consciousness which marvellously animates every separate atom of the frame, and reduces each to the performance of a function fitted to the welfare of the whole--its own, not another's: so that the inner spirit can say of the remotest, and in form most unlike, member, "That too, is myself." 3. None but a spiritual unity can preserve the rights both of the individual and the Church. All other systems of unity, except the apostolic, either sacrifice the Church to the individual, or the individual to the Church. Some have claimed the right of private judgment in such a way that every individual opinion becomes truth, and every utterance of private conscience right: thus the Church is sacrificed to the individual; and the universal conscience, the common faith, becomes as nothing; the spirits of the prophets are not subject to the prophets. Again, there are others, who, like the Church of Rome, would surrender the conscience of each man to the conscience of the Church, and coerce the particulars of faith into exact coincidence with a formal creed. Spiritual unity saves the right of both in God's system. The Church exists for the individual, just as truly as the individual for the Church. The Church is then most perfect when all its powers converge, and are concentrated on the formation and protection of individual character; and the individual is then most complete--that is, most a Christian--when he has practically learned that his life is not his own, but owed to others--"that no man liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself." Now, spiritual unity respects the sanctity of the individual conscience. How reverently the Apostle Paul considered its claims, and how tenderly! When once it became a matter of conscience, this was his principle laid down in matters of dispute: "Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind." The belief of the whole world cannot make that thing true to me which to me seems false. The conscience of the whole world cannot make a thing right to me, if I in my heart believe it wrong. You may coerce the conscience, you may control men's belief, and you may produce a unity by so doing; but it is the unity of pebbles on the sea-shore--a lifeless identity of outward form with no cohesion between the parts--a dead sea-beach on which nothing grows, and where the very seaweed dies. Lastly, it respected the sanctity of individual character. Out of eight hundred millions of the human race, a few features diversify themselves into so many forms of countenance, that scarcely two could be mistaken for each other. There are no two leaves on the same tree alike; nor two sides of the same leaf, unless you cut and kill it There is a sacredness in individuality of character; each one born into this world is a fresh new soul intended by his Maker to develope himself in a new fresh way; we are what we are; we cannot be truly other than ourselves. We reach perfection not by copying, much less by aiming at originality; but by consistently and steadily working out the life which is common to us all, according to the character which God has given us. And thus will the Church of God be one at last--will present an unity like that of heaven. There is one universe in which each separate star differs from another in glory; one Church in which a single Spirit, the Life of God, pervades each separate soul; and just in proportion as that Life becomes exalted does it enable every one to shine forth in the distinctness of his own separate individuality, like the stars of heaven. IV. _Preached May 26, 1850._ THE TRINITY. "And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ."--1 Thess. v. 23. The knowledge of God is the blessedness of man. To know God, and to be known by Him--to love God, and to be loved by Him--is the most precious treasure which this life has to give; properly speaking the only treasure; properly speaking the only knowledge; for all knowledge is valuable only so far as it converges towards and ends in the knowledge of God, and enables us to acquaint ourselves with God, and be at peace with Him. The doctrine of the Trinity is the sum of all that knowledge which has as yet been gained by man. I say gained _as yet_. For we presume not to maintain that in the ages which are to come hereafter, our knowledge shall not be superseded by a higher knowledge; we presume not to say that in a state of existence future--yea even here upon this earth, at that period which is mysteriously referred to in Scripture as "the coming of the Son of Man"--there shall not be given to the soul an intellectual conception of the Almighty, a vision of the Eternal, in comparison with whose brightness and clearness our present knowledge of the Trinity shall be as rudimentary and as childlike as the knowledge of the Jew was in comparison with the knowledge of the Christian. Now the passage which I have undertaken to expound to-day, is one in which the doctrine of the Trinity is brought into connection practically with the doctrine of our Humanity. Before entering into it brethren, let us lay down these two observations and duties for ourselves. In the first place, let us examine the doctrine of the Trinity ever in the spirit of charity. A clear statement of the deepest doctrine that man can know, and the intellectual conception of that doctrine, are by no means easy. We are puzzled and perplexed by _words_; we fight respecting _words_. Quarrels are nearly always verbal quarrels. Words lose their meaning in the course of time; nay, the very words of the Athanasian creed which we read to-day mean not in this age, the same thing which they meant in ages past. Therefore it is possible that men, externally Trinitarians, may differ from each other though using the same words, as greatly as a Unitarian differs from a Trinitarian. There may be found in the same Church and in the same congregation, men holding all possible shades of opinion, though agreeing externally, and in words. I speak within the limit of my own experience when I say that persons have been known and heard to express the language of bitter condemnation respecting Unitarianism, who when examined and calmly required to draw out verbally the meaning of their own conceptions, have been proved to be holding all the time--unconsciously--the very doctrine of Sabellianism. And this doctrine is condemned by the Church as distinctly as that of Unitarianism. Therefore let us learn from all this a large and catholic charity. There are in almost every congregation, themselves not knowing it, Trinitarians who are practically Tri-theists, worshipping three Gods; and Sabellians, or worshippers of one person under three different manifestations. To know God so that we may be said intellectually, to appreciate Him, is blessed: to be unable to do so is a misfortune. Be content with your own blessedness, in comparison with others' misfortunes. Do not give to that misfortune the additional sting of illiberal and unchristian vituperation. The next observation we have to lay down for ourselves is, that we should examine this doctrine in the spirit of modesty. There are those who are inclined to sneer at the Trinitarian; those to whom the doctrine appears merely a contradiction--a puzzle--an entangled, labyrinthine enigma, in which there is no meaning whatever. But let all such remember, that though the doctrine may appear to them absurd, because they have not the proper conception of it, some of the profoundest thinkers, and some of the holiest spirits among mankind, have believed in this doctrine--have clung to it as a matter of life or death. Let them be assured of this, that whether the doctrine be true or false, it is not necessarily a doctrine self-contradictory. Let them be assured of this, in all modesty, that such men never could have held it unless there was latent in the doctrine a deep truth,--perchance the truth of God. We pass on now to the consideration of this verse under the following divisions. In the first place, we shall view it as a triad in discord: "I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless;" in the second place, as a Trinity in Unity: "the God of peace sanctify you wholly." We take then first of all for our consideration the triad in discord: "I pray God your whole body and soul and spirit be preserved blameless." The apostle here divides human nature into a three-fold division; and here we have to observe again the difficulty often experienced in understanding words. Thus words in the Athanasian creed have become obsolete, or lost their meaning: so that in the present day the words "person," "substance," "procession," "generation," to an ordinary person, mean almost nothing. So this language of the apostle, when rendered into English, shows no difference whatever between "soul" and "spirit." We say, for instance, that the soul of a man has departed from him. We also say that the spirit of a man has departed from him. There is no distinct difference between the two; but in the original two very different kinds of thoughts--two very different modes of conception--are represented by the two English words "soul" and "spirit." It is our business, therefore, in the first place, to understand what is meant by this threefold division. When the apostle speaks of the body, what he means is the animal life--that which we share in common with beasts, birds, and reptiles; for our life my Christian brethren--our sensational existence--differs but little from that of the lower animals. There is the same external form, the same material in the blood-vessels, in the nerves, and in the muscular system. Nay, more than that, our appetites and instincts are alike, our lower pleasures like their lower pleasures, our lower pain like their lower pain, our life is supported by the same means, and our animal functions are almost indistinguishably the same. But, once more, the apostle speaks of what he calls the "soul." What the apostle meant by what is translated "soul," is the immortal part of man--the immaterial as distinguished from the material: those powers, in fact, which man has by nature--powers natural, which are yet to survive the grave. There is a distinction made in scripture by our Lord between these two things. "Fear not," says He, "them who can kill the body; but rather fear Him who can destroy both body and soul in hell." We have again, to observe respecting this, that what the apostle called the "soul," is not simply distinguishable from the body, but also from the spirit; and on that distinction I have already touched. By the soul the apostle means our powers natural--the powers which we have by nature. Herein is the soul distinguishable from the spirit. In the Epistle to the Corinthians we read--"But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God; for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned. But he that is spiritual judgeth all things." Observe, there is a distinction drawn between the natural man and the spiritual. What is there translated "natural" is derived from precisely the same word as that which is here translated "soul." So that we may read just as correctly: "The man under the dominion of the soul receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God; for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them because they are spiritually discerned. But he that is spiritual judgeth all things." And again, the apostle, in the same Epistle to the Corinthians, writes: "That is not first which is spiritual, but that which is natural:" that is, the endowments of the soul precede the endowments of the spirit. You have the same truth in other places. The powers that belong to the Spirit were not the first developed; but the powers which belong to the soul, that is the powers of nature. Again in the same chapter, reference is made to the natural and spiritual body. "There is a natural body and there is a spiritual body." Literally, there is a body governed by the soul--that is, powers natural: and there is a body governed by the Spirit--that is, higher nature. Let then this be borne in mind, that what the apostle calls "soul" is the same as that which he calls, in another place, the "natural man." These powers are divisible into two branches--the intellectual powers and the moral sense. The intellectual powers man has by nature. Man need not be regenerated in order to possess the power of reasoning, or in order to invent. The intellectual powers belong to what the apostle calls the "soul." The moral sense distinguishes between right and wrong. The apostle tells us, in the Epistle to the Romans, that the heathen--manifestly natural men--had the "work of the law written in their hearts; their conscience also bearing witness." The third division of which the apostle speaks, he calls the "spirit;" and by the spirit he means that life in man which, in his natural state, is in such an embryo condition, that it can scarcely be said to exist at all--that which is called out into power and vitality by regeneration--the perfection of the powers of human nature. And you will observe, that it is not merely the instinctive life, nor the intellectual life, nor the moral life, but it is principally our nobler affections--that existence, that state of being, which we call love. That is the department of human nature which the apostle calls the spirit; and accordingly, when the Spirit of God was given on the day of Pentecost, you will, remember that another power of man was called out, differing from what he had before. That Spirit granted on the day of Pentecost did subordinate to Himself, and was, intended to subordinate to Himself, the will, the understanding, and the affection of man; but you often find these spiritual powers were distinguished from the natural powers, and existed without them. So in the highest state of religious life, we are told, men prayed in the spirit. Till the spirit has subordinated the understanding, the gift of God is not complete--has not done its work. It is abundantly evident that a new life was called out. It was not merely the sharpening of the intellectual powers; it was calling out powers of aspiration and love to God; those affections which have in them something boundless, that are not limited to this earth, but seek their completion in the mind of God Himself. Now, what we have to say respecting this threefold state of man is, it is a state of discord. Let us take up a very simple, popular, every-day illustration. We hear it remarked frequently in conversation of a man, that if only his will were commensurate with his knowledge, he would be a great man. His knowledge is great--his powers are almost unbounded; he has gained knowledge from nearly every department of science; but somehow or other--you cannot tell why--there is such an indecision, such a vacillation about the man, that he scarcely knows what to do, and, perhaps does nothing in this world. You find it remarked, respecting another class of men, that their will is strong, almost unbounded in its strength--they have iron wills, yet there is something so narrow in their conceptions, something so bounded in their views, so much of stagnation in their thoughts, so much of prejudice in all their opinions, that their will is prevented from being directed to anything in a proper manner. Here is the discord in human nature. There is a distinction between the will and the understanding. And sometimes a feeble will goes with a strong understanding, or a powerful will is found in connection with great feebleness or ignorance of the understanding. Let us however, go into this more specially. The first cause of discord in this threefold state of man is the state in which the body is the ruler; and this, my Christian brethren, you find most visibly developed in the uneducated and irreligious poor. I say uneducated and irreligious, because it is by no means education alone which can subordinate the flesh to the higher man. The religious uneducated poor man may be master of his lower passions; but in the uneducated and irreligious poor man, these show themselves in full force; this discord--this want of unity--appears, as it were, in a magnified form. There is a strong man--health bursting, as it were, at every pore, with an athletic body; but coarse, and rude, and intellectually weak--almost an animal. When you are regarding the upper classes of society, you see less distinctly the absence of the spirit, unless, you look with a spiritual eye. The coarseness has passed away--the rudeness is no longer seen: there is a refinement in the pleasures. But if you take the life led by the young men of our country--strong, athletic, healthy men--it is still the life of the flesh: the unthinking, and the unprincipled life in which there is as yet no higher life developed. It is a life which, in spite of its refinement, the Bible condemns as the life of the sensualist. We pass on now, to another state of discord--a state in which the soul is ruined. Brethren, this is a natural result--this is what might have been expected. The natural man gradually subordinates the flesh, the body, to the soul. It is natural in the development of individuals, it is natural in the development of society: in the development of individuals, because that childlike, infantine life which exists at first, and is almost entirely a life of appetites, gradually subsides. Higher wants, higher desires, loftier inclinations arise; the passions of the young man gradually subside, and by degrees the more rational life comes: the life is changed--the pleasures of the senses are forsaken for those of the intellect. It appears natural, again, in the development of society. Civilization will subordinate the flesh to the soul. In the savage state, you find the life of the animal. Civilization is teaching a man, on the principle of this world, to subordinate his appetites; to rule himself; and there comes a refinement, and a gentleness, and a polish, and an enjoyment of intellectual pleasures; so that the man is no longer what the apostle calls a sensual man, but he becomes now what the apostle calls a natural man. We can see this character delineated in the Epistle to the Ephesians. "Then we were," says the apostle, "in our Gentile state, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind." Man naturally fulfils not merely the desires of the flesh, but the desires of the mind. "And were," says the apostle, "children of wrath." One of the saddest spectacles is the decay of the natural man before the work of the Spirit has been accomplished in him. When the savage dies--when a mere infant dies--when an animal dies--there is nothing that is appalling or depressing there; but when the high, the developed intellect--when the cultivated man comes to the last hours of life, and the memory becomes less powerful, and the judgment fails, and all that belongs to nature and to earth visibly perishes, and the higher life has not been yet developed, though it is destined to survive the grave for ever--even the life of God--there is here ample cause for grief; and it is no wonder that the man of genius merely should shed tears at he idea of decaying life. We pass on to consider the Trinity in unity. All this is contained in that simple expression, "The God of peace." God is a God of unity. He makes one where before there were two. He is the God of peace, and therefore can make peace. Now this peace, according to the Trinitarian doctrine, consists in a threefold unity. Brethren, as we remarked respecting this first of all, the distinction in this Trinity is not a physical distinction, but a metaphysical one. The illustrations which are often given are illustrations drawn from material sources: if we take only those, we get into contradiction: for example, when we talk of personality, our idea is of a being bounded by space; and then to say in this sense that three persons are one, and one is three, is simply contradictory and absurd. Remember that the doctrine of the Trinity is a metaphysical doctrine. It is a trinity--a division in the mind of God. It is not three materials; it is three persons in a sense we shall explain by and by. In the next place I will endeavour to explain the doctrine--not to prove it, but to show its rationality, and to explain what it is. The first illustration we endeavour to give in this is taken from the world of matter. We will take any material substance: we find in that substance qualities; we will say three qualities--colour, shape, and size. Colour is not shape, shape is not size, size is not colour. They are three distinct essences, three distinct qualities, and yet they all form one unity, one single conception, one idea--the idea for example, of a tree. Now we will ascend from that into the immaterial world; and here to be something more distinct still. Hitherto we have had but three qualities; we now come to the mind of man, where we find something more than qualities. We will take three--the will, the affections, and the thoughts of man. His will is not his affections, neither are his affections his thoughts; and it would be imperfect and incomplete to say that these are mere qualities in the man. They are separate consciousnesses, living consciousnesses--as distinct, and as really sundered as it is possible for three things to be, yet bound together by one unity of consciousness. Now we have distincter proof than even this that these things are three. The anatomist can tell you that the localities of these powers are different. He can point out the seat of the nerve of sensation; he can localize the feeling of affection; he can point to a nerve and say, "There resides the locality of thought." There are three distinct localities for three distinct qualities, personalities, consciousnesses; yet all these three are one. Once more, we will give proof even beyond all that. The act that a man does is done by one particular part of that man. You may say it was a work of his genius, or of his fancy; it may have been a manifestation of his love, or an exhibition of his courage; yet that work was the work of the whole man: his courage, his intellect, his habits of perseverance, all helped towards the completion of that single work. Just in this way certain special works are attributed to certain personalities of the Deity; the work of Redemption being attributed to one, the work of Sanctification to another. And yet just as the whole man was engaged in doing that work, so does the whole Deity perform that work which is attributed to one essential. Once more, let us remember that principle which we expounded last Sunday, that it is the law of Being that in proportion as you rise from lower to higher life, the parts are more distinctly developed, while yet the unity becomes more entire. You find for example, in the lowest forms of animal life one organ performs several functions, one organ being at the same time heart and brain and blood-vessels. But when you come to man, you find all these various functions existing in different organs, and every organ more distinctly developed; and yet the unity of a man is a higher unity than that of a limpet. When you come from the material world to the world immaterial, you find that the more society is cultivated--the more man is cultivated--the more marvellous is the power of developing distinct powers. In the savage life it is almost all one feeling; but in proportion as the higher education advances and the higher life appears, every power and faculty developes and distinguishes itself, and becomes distinct and separate. And yet just in proportion as in a nation every part is distinct, the unity is greater, and just in proportion as in an individual every power is most complete, and stands out most distinct, just in that proportion has the man reached the entireness of his Humanity. Now brethren, we apply all this to the mind of God. The Trinitarian maintains against the Unitarian and the Sabellian, that the higher you ascend in the scale of being, the more distinct are the consciousnesses, and that the law of unity implies and demands a manifold unity. The doctrine of Sabellianism, for example, is this, that God is but one essence--but one person under different manifestations; and that when He made the world He was called the Father, when He redeemed the world He was called the Son, and when He sanctified the world He was called the Holy Ghost. The Sabellian and the Unitarian maintain that the unity of God consists simply in a unity of person, and in opposition to this does the Trinitarian maintain that grandness, either in man or in God, must be a unity of manifoldness. But we will enter into this more deeply. The first power or consciousness in which God is made known to us is as the Father, the Author of our being. It is written, "In Him we live, and move, and have our being." He is the Author of all life. In this sense He is not merely our Father as Christians, but the Father of mankind; and not merely the Father of mankind, but the Father of creation; and in this way the sublime language of the prophets may be taken as true literally, "The morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy;" and the language of the canticle which belongs to our morning service, "the deeps, the fountains, the wells," all unite in one hymn of praise, one everlasting hallelujah to God the Father, the Author of their being. In this respect, simply as the Author of life, merely as the supreme Being, God has reference to us in relation to the body. He is the Lord of life: in Him we live, and move, and have our being. In this respect God to us is as law--as the collected laws of the universe; and therefore to offend against law, and bring down the result of transgressing law, is said in Scripture language, because applied to a person, to be provoking the wrath of God the Father. In the next place, the second way through which the personality and consciousness of God has been revealed to us is as the Son. Brethren, we see in all those writers who have treated of the Trinity, that much stress is laid upon this eternal generation of the Son, the everlasting sonship. It is this which we have in the Creed--the Creed which was read to-day--"God, of the substance of the Father, begotten before the worlds;" and, again, in the Nicene Creed, that expression, which is so often wrongly read, "God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God," means absolutely nothing. There are two statements made there. The first is this, "The Son was God:" the second is this, "The Son was--_of_ God," showing his derivation. And in that, brethren, we have one of the deepest and most blessed truths of revelation. The Unitarian maintains a divine Humanity--a blessed, blessed truth. There is a truth more blessed still--the Humanity of Deity. Before the world was, there was that in the mind of God which we may call the Humanity of His Divinity. It is called in Scripture the Word: the Son: the Form of God. It is in virtue of this that we have a right to attribute to Him our own feelings; it is in virtue of this that Scripture speaks of His wisdom, His justice, His love. Love in God is what love is in man; justice in God is what justice is in man; creative power in God is what creative power is in man; indignation in God is that which indignation is in man, barring only this, that the one is emotional, but the other is calm, and pure, and everlastingly still. It is through this Humanity in the mind of God, if I may dare so to speak of Deity, that a revelation became possible to man. It was the Word that was made flesh; it was the Word that manifested Itself to man. It is in virtue of the connection between God and man, that God made man in His own image; that through a long line of prophets the human truth of God could be made known to man, till it came forth developed most entirely and at large in the incarnation of the Redeemer. Now in this respect, it will be observed that God stands connected with us in relation to the soul as "the Light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world." Once more; there is a nearer, a closer, and a more enduring relation in which God stands to us--that is, the relation of the Spirit. It is to the writings of St. John that we have to turn especially, if we desire to know the doctrines of the Spirit. You will remember the strange way in which he speaks of God. It would almost seem as if the external God has disappeared to him; nay, as if an external Christ were almost forgotten, because the internal Christ has been formed. He speaks of God as kindred with us; he speaks of Christ as Christ _in_ us; and "if we love one another," he says, "God dwelleth in us." If a man keep the commandments, "God dwelleth in him, and he in God." So that the spiritual manifestation of God to us is that whereby He blends Himself with the soul of man. These then, my Christian brethren, are the three consciousnesses by which He becomes known to us. Three, we said, _known_ to us. We do not dare to limit God; we do not presume to say that there are in God only three personalities--only three consciousnesses: all that we dare presume to say is this, that there are three in reference to us, and only three; that a fourth there is not; that perchance, in the present state a fourth you cannot add to these--Creator, Redeemer, Sanctifier. Lastly, let us turn to the relation which the Trinity in unity bears to the triad in discord. It is intended for the entireness of our sanctification: "the very God of peace sanctify you wholly." Brethren, we dwell upon that expression "_wholly_." There is this difference between Christianity and every other system: Christianity proposes to ennoble the whole man; every other system subordinates parts to parts. Christianity does not despise the intellect, but it does not exalt the intellect in a one-sided way: it only dwells with emphasis on the third and highest part of man--his spiritual affections; and these it maintains are the chief and real seat of everlasting life, intended to subordinate the other to themselves. Asceticism would crush the natural affections--destroy the appetites. Asceticism feels that there is a conflict between the flesh and the spirit, and it would put an end to that conflict; it would bring back unity by the excision of all our natural appetites, and all the desires and feelings which we have by nature. But when the apostle Paul comes forward to proclaim the will of God, he says it is not by the crushing of the body, but by the sanctification of the body: "I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." In this my Christian brethren, there is one of the deepest of all truths. Does a man feel himself the slave and the victim of his lower passions? Let not that man hope to subdue them merely by struggling against them. Let him not by fasting, by austerity, by any earthly rule that he can conceive, expect to subdue the flesh. The more he thinks of his vile and lower feelings, the more will they be brought into distinctness, and therefore into power; the more hopelessly will he become their victim. The only way in which a man can subdue the flesh, is not by the extinction of those feelings, but by the elevation of their character. Let there be added to that character, sublimity of aim, purity of affection; let there be given grandeur, spiritual nobleness; and then, just as the strengthening of the whole constitution of the body makes any particular and local affection disappear, so by degrees, by the raising of the character, do these lower affections become, not extinguished or destroyed by excision, but ennobled by a new and loftier spirit breathed through them. This is the account given by the apostle. He speaks of the conflict between the flesh and the spirit. And his remedy is to give vigour to the higher, rather than to struggle with the lower. "This I say then, Walk in the spirit, and ye _shall not_ fulfil the lust of the flesh." Once more; the apostle differs from the world in this, that the world would restore this unity, and sanctify man simply from the soul. It is this which civilization pretends to effect. We hear much in these modern days of "the progress of Humanity." We hear of man's invention, of man's increase of knowledge; and it would seem in all this, as if man were necessarily becoming better. Brethren, it always must be the case in that state in which God is looked upon as the Supreme Being merely, where the intellect of man is supposed to be the chief thing--that which makes him most kindred to his Maker. The doctrine of Christianity is this--that unity of all this discord must be made. Man is to be made one with God, not by soaring intellect, but by lowly love. It is the Spirit which guides him to all truth; not merely by rendering more acute the reasoning powers, but by convincing of sin, by humbling the man. It is the graces of the Spirit which harmonize the man, and make him one; and that is the end, and aim, and object of all the Gospel: the entireness of sanctification to produce a perfectly developed man. Most of us in this world are monsters, with some part of our being bearing the development of a giant, and others showing the proportions of a dwarf: a feeble, dwarfish will--mighty, full-blown passions; and therefore it is that there is to be visible through the Trinity in us, a noble manifold unity; and when the triune power of God shall so have done its work on the entireness of our Humanity, that the body, soul, and spirit have been sanctified, then shall there be exhibited, and only then, a perfect affection in man to his Maker, and body, soul, and spirit shall exhibit a Trinity in unity. V. _Preached June 2, 1850._ ABSOLUTION. "And the Scribes and the Pharisees began to reason, saying, Who is this which speaketh blasphemies? Who can forgive sins, but God alone?"--Luke v. 21. There are questions which having been again and again settled, still from time to time, present themselves for _re_-solution; errors which having been refuted, and cut up by the roots, re-appear in the next century as fresh and vigorous as ever. Like the fabled monsters of old, from whose dissevered neck the blood sprung forth and formed fresh heads, multiplied and indestructible; or like the weeds, which, extirpated in one place, sprout forth vigorously in another. In every such case it may be taken for granted that the root of the matter has not been reached; the error has been exposed, but the truth which lay at the bottom of the error has not been disengaged. Every error is connected with a truth; the truth being perennial, springs up again as often as circumstances foster it, or call for it, and the seeds of error which lay about the roots spring up again in the form of weeds, as before. A popular illustration of this may be found in the belief in the appearance of the spirits of the departed. You may examine the evidence for every such alleged apparition; you may demonstrate the improbability; you may reduce it to an impossibility; still the popular feeling will remain; and there is a lurking superstition even among the enlightened, which in the midst of professions of incredulity, shows itself in a readiness to believe the wildest new tale, if it possess but the semblance of an authentication. Now two truths lie at the root of this superstition. The first is the reality of the spirit-world, and the instinctive belief in it. The second is the fact that there are certain states of health in which the eye creates the objects which it perceives. The death-blow to such superstition is only struck when we have not only proved that men have been deceived, but shown besides how they came to be deceived; when science has explained the optical delusion, and shown the physiological state in which such apparitions become visible. Ridicule will not do it. Disproof will not do it. So long as men feel that there is a spirit-world, and so long as to some the impression is vivid that they have seen it, you spend your rhetoric in vain. You must show the truth that lies below the error. The principle we gain from this is that you cannot overthrow falsehood by negation, but by establishing the antagonistic truth. The refutation which is to last must be positive, not negative. It is an endless work to be uprooting weeds: plant the ground with wholesome vegetation, and then the juices which would have otherwise fed rankness will pour themselves into a more vigorous growth; the dwindled weeds will be easily raked out then. It is an endless task to be refuting error. Plant truth, and the error will pine away. The instance to which all this is preliminary, is the pertinacious hold which the belief in a human absolving power retains upon mankind. There has perhaps never yet been known a religion without such a belief. There is not a savage in the islands of the South Pacific who does not believe that his priest can shield him from the consequences of sin. There was not a people in antiquity who had not dispensers of Divine favour. That same belief passed from Paganism into Romanism. It was exposed at the period of the Reformation. A mighty reaction was felt against it throughout Europe. Apparently the whole idea of human priesthood was proved, once and for ever, to be baseless; human mediation, in every possible form, was vehemently controverted; men were referred back to God as the sole absolver. Yet now again, three centuries after, the belief is still as strong as ever. That which we thought dead is alive again, and not likely it seems, to die. Recent revelations have shown that confession is daily made in the country whose natural manners are most against it; private absolution asked by English men and given by English priests. A fact so significant might lead us well to pause, and ask ourselves whether we have found the true answer to the question. The negation we have got--the vehement denial; we are weary of its reiteration: but the positive truth which lies at the bottom of this craving--where is that? Parliaments and pulpits, senators and clergymen, have vied with each other in the vehemence with which they declare absolution un-Christian, un-English. All that is most abominable in the confessional has been with unsparing and irreverent indelicacy forced before the public mind. Still, men and women, whose holiness and purity are beyond slander's reach, come and crave assurance of forgiveness. How shall we reply to such men? Shall we say, "Who is this that speaketh blasphemies? who can forgive sins, but God only?" Shall we say it is all blasphemy; an impious intrusion upon the prerogatives of the One Absolver? Well, we may; it is _popular_ to say we ought; but you will observe, if we speak so, we do no more than the Pharisees in this text: we establish a negation; but a negation is only one side of truth. Moreover, we have been asserting that for 300 years, with small fruits. We keep asserting, Man cannot give assurance that sin is pardoned; in other words, man cannot absolve: but still the heart craves human assurance of forgiveness. What truth have we got to supply that craving? We shall therefore, rather try to fathom the deeps of the positive truth which is the true reply to the error; we shall try to see whether there is not a real answer to the craving contained in the Redeemer's words, "The Son of Man hath power on earth to forgive sins." What power is there in human forgiveness? What does absolution mean in the lips of a son of man? These are our questions for to-day. We shall consider two points. I. The impotency of the negation. II. The power of the positive truth. The Pharisees denied the efficacy of human absolution: they said, "None can forgive sins, but God only:" that was a negation. What did they effect by their system of negations? They conferred no peace; they produced no holiness. It would be a great error to suppose that the Pharisees were hypocrites in the ordinary sense of the term--that is, pretending to be anxious about religion when they knew that they felt no anxiety. They _were_ anxious, in their way. They heard a startling free announcement of forgiveness by a man. To them it appeared license given to sin. If this new teacher, this upstart--in their own language, "this fellow--of whom every man knew whence he was," were to go about the length and breadth of the land, telling sinners to be at peace; telling them to forget the past, and to work onwards; bidding men's consciences be at rest; and commanding them not to _fear_ the God whom they had offended, but to _trust_ in Him--what would become of morality and religion? This presumptuous Absolver would make men careless about both. If the indispensable safeguards of penalty were removed, what remained to restrain men from sin? For the Pharisees had no notion of any other goodness than that which is restrained; they could conceive no goodness free, but only that which is produced by rewards and punishments--law-goodness, law-righteousness: to dread God, not to love and trust Him, was their conception of religion. And this, indeed, is the _ordinary_ conception of religion--the ordinary meaning implied to most minds by the word religion. The word religion means, by derivation, restriction or obligation--obligation to do, obligation to avoid. And this is the negative system of the Pharisees--scrupulous avoidance of evil, rather than positive and free pursuit of excellence. Such a system never produced anything but barren denial. "_This_ is wrong;" "_that_ is heresy;" "_that_ is dangerous." There was another class of men who denied human power of absolution. They were called Scribes or writers--pedants, men of ponderous learning and accurate definitions; from being mere transcribers of the law, they had risen to be its expounders. They could define the exact number of yards that might be travelled on the Sabbath-day without infringement of the law; they could decide, according to the most approved theology, the respective importance of each duty; they would tell you, authoritatively, which was the _great_ commandment of the law. The Scribe is a man who turns religion into etiquette: his idea of God is that of a monarch, transgression against whom is an offence against statute law, and he the Scribe, is there to explain the prescribed conditions upon which the offence may be expiated; he has no idea of admission to the sovereign's presence, except by compliance with certain formalities which the Scribe is commissioned to declare. There are therefore Scribes in all ages--Romish Scribes, who distinguish between venial and mortal sin, and apportion to each its appointed penance and absolution. There are Protestant Scribes, who have no idea of God but as an incensed judge, and prescribe certain methods of appeasing him--a certain price--in consideration of which He is willing to sell forgiveness; men who accurately draw the distinction between the different kinds of faith--faith historical and faith saving; who bewilder and confuse all natural feeling; who treat the natural love of relations as if it were an idolatry as great as bowing down to mammon; who make intelligible distinction between the work that _may_ and the work that may _not_ be done on the Sabbath-day; who send you into a perilous consideration of the workings of your own feelings, and the examination of your spiritual experiences, to ascertain whether you have the feelings which give you a right to call God a Father. They hate the Romish Scribe as much as the Jewish Scribe hated the Samaritan and called him heretic. But in their way they are true to the spirit of the Scribe. Now the result of this is fourfold. Among the tender-minded, despondency; among the vainer, spiritual pride; in the case of the slavish, superstition; with the hard-minded, infidelity. Ponder it well, and you will find these four things rife amongst us: Despondency, Spiritual Pride, Superstition, and Infidelity. In this way we have been going on for many years. In the midst of all this, at last we are informed that the confessional is at work again; whereupon astonishment and indignation are loudly expressed. It is not to be borne that the priests of the Church of England should confess and absolve in private. Yet it is only what might have been expected. With our Evangelicalism, Tractarianism, Scribeism, Pharisaism, we have ceased to front the _living fact_--we are as zealous as Scribes and Pharisees ever were for negatives; but in the meantime Human Nature, oppressed and overborne, gasping for breath, demands something real and living. It cannot live on controversies. It cannot be fed on protests against heresy, however vehement. We are trying who can protest loudest. Every book, every journal, rings with warnings. "Beware!" is written upon everything. Beware of Rome; beware of Geneva; beware of Germany; some danger on every side; Satan everywhere--God _nowhere_; everywhere some man to be shunned or dreaded--nowhere one to be loved freely and without suspicion. Is it any wonder if men and women, in the midst of negations, cry, "Ye warn me from the error, but who will guide me into truth? I want guidance. I am sinful, full of evil! I want forgiveness! Absolve me; tell me that I am pardoned; help me to believe it. Your quarrels do not help me; if you cannot do _that_, it matters little what you _can_ do. You have restricted God's love, and narrowed the path to heaven; you have hampered religion with so many mysterious questions and quibbles that I cannot find the way to God; you have terrified me with so many snares and pitfalls on every side, that I dare not tread at all. Give me peace; give me human guidance: I want a human arm to lean on." This is a cry, I believe, becoming daily more passionate, and more common. And no wonder that all our information, public and private, is to the same effect--that the recent converts have found peace in Rome; for the secret of the power of Rome is this--that she grounds her teaching, not on variable feelings and correct opinions, but on _facts_. God is not a highly probable God, but a _fact_. God's forgiveness is not a feeling, but a _fact_; and a material symbolic fact is the witness of the invisible one. Rome puts forward her absolution--her false, priestly, magical absolution--a visible fact, as a witness of the invisible. And her perversion prevails because founded on a truth. II. The power of the positive truth. Is it any wonder, if taught on every side distrust of man, the heart should by a violent reaction, and by an extravagant confidence in a priest, proclaim that its normal, natural state is not distrust, but trust? What is forgiveness?--It is God reconciled to us. What is absolution?--It is the authoritative declaration that God is reconciled. Authoritative: that is a real power of conveying a sense and feeling of forgiveness. It is the power of the Son of Man _on earth_ to forgive sins. It is man, God's image, representing, by his forgiveness on earth, God's forgiveness in heaven. Now distinguish God's forgiveness of sin from an arresting of the consequences of sin. When God forgives a sin, it does not follow that He stops its consequences: for example, when He forgives the intemperate man whose health is ruined, forgiveness does not restore his health. Divine pardon does not interfere with the laws of the universe, for it is itself one of those laws. It is a law that penalty follows transgression. Forgiveness will not save from penalty; but it alters the feelings with which the penalty is accepted. Pain inflicted with a surgeon's knife for a man's good, is as keen as that which results from the knife of the torturer; but in the one case it is calmly borne, because remedial--in the other it exasperates, because it is felt to be intended by malevolence. So with the difference between suffering which comes from a sin which we hope God has forgiven, and suffering which seems to fall hot from the hand of an angry God. It is a fearful truth, that so far as we know at least, the consequences of an act are connected with it indissolubly. Forgiveness does not arrest them; but by producing softness and grateful penitence, it transforms them into blessings. This is God's forgiveness; and absolution is the conveyance to the conscience of the conviction of forgiveness: to absolve is to free--to comfort by strengthening--to afford repose from fear. Now it was the way of the Redeemer to emancipate from sin by the freeness of absolution. The dying thief, an hour before a blasphemer, was unconditionally assured; the moment the sinner's feelings changed towards God, He proclaimed that God was reconciled to him: "This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise." And hence, speaking humanly, hence, from this absolving tone and spirit, came His wondrous and unparalleled power with sinful, erring hearts; hence the life and fresh impulse which He imparted to the being and experience to those with whom He dealt. Hence the maniac, freed from the legion, sat at His feet, clothed, and in his right mind. Hence the outcast woman, whom human scorn would have hardened into brazen effrontery, hearing an unwonted voice of human sympathy, "washed His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head." And this is what we have forgotten: we have not yet learned to trust the power of redeeming love; we do not believe in the omnipotence of grace, and the might of an appeal to the better parts, and not the slavish parts of human nature. Settle it in your minds, the absolving power is the central secret of the Gospel. Salvation is unconditional; not an offer, but _a Gift_; not clogged with conditions, but free as the air we breathe. God welcomes back the prodigal. God loves without money and without price. To this men reply gravely, It is dangerous to speak thus; it is perilous to dispense with the safeguards of restriction. Law! law! there is nothing like law--a salutary fear--for making men holy. O blind Pharisee! had you ever known the spring, the life which comes from feeling _free_, the gush of gratitude with which the heart springs to duty when all chains are shattered, and it stands fearless and free in the Light, and in the Love of God--you would understand that a large trusting charity, which can throw itself on the better and more generous impulses of a laden spirit, is the safest as well as the most beautiful means of securing obedience. So far however, there will not be much objection to the doctrine: it will be admitted that absolution is true in the lips of Christ, because of His Divinity. It will be said He was God, and God speaking on earth is the same thing as God speaking in heaven. No my brethren, it is _not_ the same thing. Christ forgiving on earth is _a new truth_ added to that of God's forgiving in heaven. It is not the same truth. The one is forgiveness by Deity; the other is the declaration of forgiveness by Humanity. He bade the palsied man walk, that they might know that "the Son of Man hath power on earth to forgive sins." Therefore we proceed a step further. The same power He delegated to His Church which He had exercised Himself. "Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted." Now perhaps, it will be replied to this, that that promise belongs to the apostles; that they were supernaturally gifted to distinguish genuine from feigned repentance; to absolve therefore, was their natural prerogative, but that we have no right to say it extends beyond the apostles. We therefore, bring the question to a point by referring to an instance in which an apostle did absolve. Let us examine whether St. Paul confined the prerogative to himself. "To whom ye forgive anything, I forgive also: for to whom I forgave anything for your sakes, forgave I it in the person of Christ." Observe now: it is quite true here that the apostle absolved a man whose excommunication he had formerly required; but he absolved him because the congregation absolved him; not as a plenipotentiary supernaturally gifted to convey a mysterious benefit, but as himself an organ and representative of the Church. The power of absolution therefore, belonged to the Church, and to the apostle through the Church. It was a power belonging to _all_ Christians: to the apostle, because he was a Christian, not because he was an apostle. A priestly power no doubt, because Christ has made all Christians kings and priests. Now let us turn again, with this added light, to examine the meaning of that expression, "The Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins." Mark that form of words--not Christ as God, but Christ as Son of man. It was manifestly said by Him, not solely as divine, but rather as human, as the Son of man; that is, as Man. For we may take it as a rule: when Christ calls himself Son of man, He is asserting His Humanity. It was said by the High Priest of Humanity in the name of the race. It was said on the principle that human nature is the reflection of God's nature: that human love is the image of God's love; and that human forgiveness is the type and assurance of divine forgiveness. In Christ Humanity was the perfect type of Deity, and therefore Christ's absolution was always the exact measure and counterpart of God's forgiveness. Herein lies the deep truth of the doctrine of His eternal priesthood--the Eternal Son--the Humanity of the Being of God--the ever Human mind of God. The Absolver ever lives. The Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment to the Son--hath given Him authority to execute judgment also, because He is the Son of man. But further than this. In a subordinate, because less perfect degree, the forgiveness of a man as man carries with it an absolving power. Who has not felt the load taken from his mind when the hidden guilt over which he had brooded long has been acknowledged, and met by forgiving human sympathy, especially at a time when he expected to be treated with coldness and reproof? Who has not felt how such a moment was to him the dawn of a better hope, and how the merciful judgment of some wise and good human being seemed to be the type and the assurance of God's pardon, making it credible? Unconsciously it may be, but still in substance really, I believe some such reasoning as _this_ goes on in the whispers of the heart--"He loves me, and has compassion on me--will not God forgive? He, this man, made in God's image, does not think my case hopeless. Well, then, in the larger love of God it is not hopeless." Thus, and only thus, can we understand the _ecclesiastical_ act. Absolution, the prerogative of our humanity, is represented by a formal act of the Church. Much controversy and angry bitterness has been spent on the absolution put by the Church of England into the lips of her ministers--I cannot think with justice--if we try to get at the root of these words of Christ. The priest proclaims forgiveness authoritatively as the organ of the congregation--as the voice of the Church, in the name of Man and God. For human nature represents God. The Church represents what human nature is and ought to be. The minister represents the Church. He speaks therefore, in the name of our godlike, human nature. He declares a divine fact, he does not create it. There is no magic in his absolution: he can no more forgive whom God has not forgiven, by the formula of absolution, or reverse the pardon of him whom God has absolved by the formula of excommunication, than he can transfer a demon into an angel by the formula of baptism. He declares what every one has a right to declare, and ought to declare by his lips and by his conduct: but being a minister, he declares it authoritatively in the name of every Christian who by his Christianity is a priest to God; he specializes what is universal; as in baptism, he seals the universal Sonship on the individual by name, saying, "The Sonship with which Christ has redeemed all men, I hereby proclaim for this child;" so by absolution he specializes the universal fact of the love of God to those who are listening then and there, saying, "The Love of God the Absolver, I authoritatively proclaim to be _yours_." In the Service for the Visitation of the Sick, the Church of England puts into the lips of her ministers words quite unconditional: "I absolve thee from all thy sins." You know that passage is constantly objected to as Romish and superstitious. I would not give up that precious passage. I love the Church of England, because she has dared to claim her inheritance--because she has courage to assert herself as what she ought to be--God's representative on earth. She says to her minister, Stand there before a darkened spirit, on whom the shadows of death have begun to fall: in human flesh and blood representing the Invisible,--with words of human love making credible the Love Eternal. Say boldly, I am here to declare not a perhaps, _but a fact_. I forgive thee in the name of Humanity. And so far as Humanity represents Deity, that forgiveness is a type of God's. She does not put into her ministers' lips words of incantation. He cannot bless whom God has not blessed--he cannot curse whom God has not cursed. If the Son of absolution be there, his absolution will rest. If you have ever tried the slow and apparently hopeless task of ministering to a heart diseased, and binding up the wound that _will_ bleed afresh, to which no assurances can give comfort, because they are not authoritative, it must have crossed your mind that such a power as that which the Church of England claims, if it were believed, is exactly the remedy you want. You must have felt that even the formula of the Church of Rome would be a blessed power to exercise, could it but once be accepted as a pledge that all the past was obliterated, and that from that moment a free untainted future lay before the soul--you must have _felt_ that; you must have wished you had dared to _say_ it. My whole spirit has absolved my erring brother. Is God less merciful than I? Can I--dare I--say or think it conditionally? Dare I say, I hope? May I not, must I not, say, _I know_ God has forgiven you? Every man whose heart has truly bled over another's sin, and watched another's remorse with pangs as sharp as if the crime had been his own, _has_ said it. Every parent has said it who ever received back a repentant daughter, and opened out for her a new hope for life. Every mother has said it who ever by her hope against hope for some profligate, protested for a love deeper and wider than that of society. Every man has said it who forgave a deep wrong. See then, _why_ and _how_ the church absolves. She only exercises that power which belongs to every son of man. If society were Christian--if society, by its forgiveness and its exclusion, truly represented the mind of God--there would be no necessity for a Church to speak; but the absolution of society and the world does not represent by any means God's forgiveness. Society absolves those whom God has _not_ absolved--the proud, the selfish, the strong, the seducer; society refuses return and acceptance to the seduced, the frail, and the sad penitent whom God has accepted; therefore it is necessary that a selected body, through its appointed organs, should do in the name of Man what man, as such, does not. The Church is the ideal of Humanity. It represents what God intended man to be--what man is in God's sight as beheld in Christ by Him; and the minister of the Church speaks as the representative of that ideal Humanity. Church absolution is an eternal protest, in the name of God the Absolver, against the false judgments of society. One thing more. Beware of making this a dead formula. If absolution be not a living truth, it becomes a monstrous falsehood; if you take absolution as a mystical gift conveyed to an individual man called a priest, and mysteriously efficacious in _his_ lips, and his _alone_, you petrify a truth into death and unreality. I have been striving to show that absolution is not a Church figment, invented by priestcraft, but a living, blessed, human power. It is a power delegated to you and to me, and just so far as we exercise it lovingly and wisely, in our lives, and with our lips, we help men away from sin: just so far as we do not exercise it, or exercise it falsely, we drive men to Rome. For if the heart cannot have a truth it will take a counterfeit of truth. By every magnanimous act, by every free forgiveness with which a pure man forgives, or pleads for mercy, or assures the penitent, he proclaims this truth, that "the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins"--he exhibits the priestly power of humanity--_he does_ absolve; let theology say what it will of absolution, he gives peace to the conscience--he is a type and assurance of what God is--he breaks the chains and lets the captive go free. VI. _Preached June 9, 1850._ THE ILLUSIVENESS OF LIFE. "By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise: for he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God."--Hebrews xi. 8-10. Last Sunday we touched upon a thought which deserves further development. God promised Canaan to Abraham, and yet Abraham never inherited Canaan: to the last he was a wanderer there; he had no possession of his own in its territory: if he wanted even a tomb to bury his dead, he could only obtain it by purchase. This difficulty is expressly admitted in the text, "In the land of promise he sojourned as in a strange country;" he dwelt there in tents--in changeful, moveable tabernacles--not permanent habitations; he had no home there. It is stated in all its startling force, in terms still more explicit, in the 7th chapter of the Acts, 5th verse, "And He gave him none inheritance in it, no, not so much as to set his foot on: yet He promised that He would give it to him for a possession, and to his seed after him, when as yet he had no child." Now the surprising point is that Abraham, deceived, as you might almost say, did not complain of it as a deception; he was even grateful for the non-fulfilment of the promise: he does not seem to have expected its fulfilment; he did not look for Canaan, but for "a city which had foundations;" his faith appears to have consisted in disbelieving the letter, almost as much as in believing the spirit of the promise. And herein lies a principle, which, rightly expounded, can help us to interpret this life of ours. God's promises never are fulfilled in the sense in which they seem to have been given. Life is a deception; its anticipations, which are God's promises to the imagination, are never realized; they who know life best, and have trusted God most to fill it with blessings, are ever the first to say that life is a series of disappointments. And in the spirit of this text we have to say that it is a wise and merciful arrangement which ordains it thus. The wise and holy do not expect to find it otherwise--would not wish it otherwise; their wisdom consists in disbelieving its promises. To develope this idea would be a glorious task; for to justify God's ways to man, to expound the mysteriousness of our present being, to interpret God,--is not this the very essence of the ministerial office? All that I can hope however to-day, is not to exhaust the subject, but to furnish hints for thought. Over-statements may be made, illustrations may be inadequate, the new ground of an almost untrodden subject may be torn up too rudely; but remember, we are here to live and die; in a few years it will be all over; meanwhile, what we have to do is to try to understand, and to help one another to understand, what it all means--what this strange and contradictory thing, which we call Life, contains within it. Do not stop to ask therefore, whether the subject was satisfactorily worked out; let each man be satisfied to have received a germ of thought which he may develope better for himself. I. The deception of life's promise. II. The meaning of that deception. Let it be clearly understood in the first place, the promise never was fulfilled. I do not say the fulfilment was delayed. I say it _never_ was fulfilled. Abraham had a few feet of earth, obtained by purchase--beyond that nothing; he died a stranger and a pilgrim in the land. Isaac had a little. So small was Jacob's hold upon his country that the last years of his life were spent in Egypt, and he died a foreigner in a strange land. His descendants came into the land of Canaan, expecting to find it a land flowing with milk and honey; they found hard work to do--war and unrest, instead of rest and peace. During one brief period, in the history of Israel, the promise may seem to have been fulfilled. It was during the later years of David and the earlier years of Solomon; but we have the warrant of Scripture itself for affirming, that even then the promise was not fulfilled. In the Book of Psalms, David speaks of a hope of entering into a _future_ rest. The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews, quoting this passage, infers from it that God's promise had not been exhausted nor fulfilled, by the entrance into Canaan; for he says, "If Joshua had given them rest then would he not have spoken of another day." Again in this very chapter, after a long list of Hebrew saints--"These _all_ died in faith, not having received the promises." To none therefore, had the promise been fulfilled. Accordingly writers on prophecy, in order to get over this difficulty, take for granted that there must be a future fulfilment, because the first was inadequate. They who believe that the Jews will be restored to their native land, expect it on the express ground that Canaan has never been actually and permanently theirs. A certain tract of country--300 miles in length, by 200 in breadth--must be given, or else they think the promise has been broken. To quote the expression of one of the most eloquent of their writers, "If there be nothing yet future for Israel, then the magnificence of the promise has been lost in the poverty of its accomplishment." I do not quote this to prove the correctness of the interpretation of the prophecy, but as an acknowledgment which may be taken so far as a proof, that the promise made to Abraham has never been accomplished. And such is life's disappointment. Its promise is, you shall have a Canaan; it turns out to be a baseless airy dream--toil and warfare--nothing that we can call our own; not the land of rest, by any means. But we will examine this in particulars. 1. Our senses deceive us; we begin life with delusion. Our senses deceive us with respect to distance, shape, and colour. That which afar off seems oval, turns out to be circular, modified by the perspective of distance; that which appears a speck, upon nearer approach becomes a vast body. To the earlier ages the stars presented the delusion of small lamps hung in space. The beautiful berry proves to be bitter and poisonous: that which apparently moves is really at rest: that which seems to be stationary is in perpetual motion: the earth moves: the sun is still. All experience is a correction of life's delusions--a modification, a reversal of the judgment of the senses: and all life is a lesson on the falsehood of appearances. 2. Our natural anticipations deceive us--I say _natural_ in contra-distinction to extravagant expectations. Every human life is a fresh one, bright with hopes that will never be realized. There may be differences of character in these hopes; finer spirits may look on life as the arena of successful deeds, the more selfish as a place of personal enjoyment. With man the turning point of life may be a profession--with woman, marriage; the one gilding the future with the triumphs of intellect, the other with the dreams of affection; but in every case, life is not what any of them expects, but something else. It would almost seem a satire on existence to compare the youth in the outset of his career, flushed and sanguine, with the aspect of the same being when it is nearly done--worn, sobered, covered with the dust of life, and confessing that its days have been few and evil. Where is the land flowing with milk and honey? With our affections it is still worse, because they promise more. Man's affections are but the tabernacles of Canaan--the tents of a night; not permanent habitations even for this life. Where are the charms of character, the perfection, and the purity, and the truthfulness, which seemed so resplendent in our friend? They were only the shape of our own conceptions--our creative shaping intellect projected its own fantasies on him: and hence we outgrow our early friendships; outgrow the intensity of all: we dwell in tents; we never find a home, even in the land of promise. Life is an unenjoyable Canaan, with nothing real or substantial in it. 3. Our expectations, resting on revelation, deceive us. The world's history has turned round two points of hope; one, the _first_--the other, the _second_ coming of the Messiah. The magnificent imagery of Hebrew prophecy had described the advent of the Conqueror; He came--"a root out of a dry ground, with no form or comeliness; and when they saw Him there was no beauty in Him that they should desire Him." The victory, predicted in such glowing terms, turned out to be the victory of Submission--the Law of our Humanity, which wins by gentleness and love. The promise in the letter was unfulfilled. For ages the world's hope has been the second advent. The early church expected it in their own day. "We, which are alive, and remain until the coming of our Lord." The Saviour Himself had said, "This generation shall not pass till all things be fulfilled." Yet the Son of Man has never come; or rather, He has been _ever_ coming. Unnumbered times the judgment eagles have gathered together over corruption ripe for condemnation. Times innumerable the separation has been made between good and bad. The promise has not been fulfilled, or it has been fulfilled, but in either case anticipation has been foiled and disappointed. There are two ways of considering this aspect of life. One is the way of sentiment; the other is the way of faith. The sentimental way is trite enough. Saint, sage, sophist, moralist, and preacher, have repeated in every possible image, till there is nothing new to say, that life is a bubble, a dream, a delusion, a phantasm. The other is the way of faith: the ancient saints felt as keenly as any moralist could feel the brokenness of its promises; they confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims here; they said that they had here no continuing city; but they did not mournfully moralize on this; they said it cheerfully, and rejoiced that it was so. They felt that all was right; they knew that the promise itself had a deeper meaning: they looked undauntedly for "a city which hath foundations." II. The second inquiry, therefore, is the meaning of this delusiveness. 1. It serves to allure us on. Suppose that a spiritual promise had been made at first to Israel; imagine that they had been informed at the outset that God's rest is inward; that the promised land is only found in the Jerusalem which is above--not material, but immaterial. That rude, gross people, yearning after the fleshpots of Egypt--willing to go back into slavery, so as only they might have enough to eat and drink--would they have quitted Egypt on such terms? Would they have begun one single step of that pilgrimage, which was to find its meaning in the discipline of ages? We are led through life as we are allured upon a journey. Could a man see his route before him--a flat, straight road, unbroken by bush, or tree, or eminence, with the sun's heat burning down upon it, stretched out in dreary monotony--he could scarcely find energy to begin his task; but the uncertainty of what may be seen beyond the next turn keeps expectation alive. The view that may be seen from yonder summit--the glimpse that may be caught perhaps, as the road winds round yonder knoll--hopes like these, not far distant, beguile the traveller on from mile to mile, and from league to league. In fact, life is an education. The object for which you educate your son is to give him strength of purpose, self-command, discipline of mental energies; but you do not reveal to your son this aim of his education; you tell him of his place in his class, of the prizes at the end of the year, of the honours to be given at college. These are not the true incentives to knowledge, such incentives are not the highest--they are even mean, and partially injurious; yet these mean incentives stimulate and lead on, from day to day and from year to year, by a process the principle of which the boy himself is not aware of. So does God lead on, through life's unsatisfying and false reward, ever educating: Canaan first; then the hope of a Redeemer; then the millennial glory. Now what is remarkable in this is, that the delusion continued to the last; they _all_ died in faith, not having received the promises; all were hoping up to the very last, and all died in faith--not in realization; for thus God has constituted the human heart. It never will be believed that this world is unreal. God has mercifully so arranged it, that the idea of delusion is incredible. You may tell the boy or girl as you will that life is a disappointment; yet however you may persuade them to adopt your _tone_, and catch the language of your sentiment, they are both looking forward to some bright distant hope--the rapture of the next vacation, or the unknown joys of the next season--and throwing into it an energy of expectation which only a whole eternity is worth. You may tell the man who has received the heart-shock which in this world, he will not recover, that life has nothing left; yet the stubborn heart still hopes on, ever near the prize--"wealthiest when most undone:" he has reaped the whirlwind, but he will go on still, till life is over, sowing the wind. Now observe the beautiful result which comes from this indestructible power of believing in spite of failure. In the first centuries, the early Christians believed that the millennial advent was close; they heard the warning of the apostle, brief and sharp, "The time is short." Now suppose that, instead of this, they had seen all the dreary page of Church history unrolled; suppose that they had known that after two thousand years the world would have scarcely spelled out three letters of the meaning of Christianity, where would have been those gigantic efforts,--that life spent as on the very brink of eternity, which characterize the days of the early Church,--and which was after all, only the true life of man in time? It is thus that God has led on His world. He has conducted it as a father leads his child, when the path homeward lies over many a dreary league. He suffers him to beguile the thought of time, by turning aside to pluck now and then a flower, to chase now a butterfly; the butterfly is crushed, the flower fades, but the child is so much nearer home, invigorated and full of health, and scarcely wearied yet. 2. This non-fulfilment of promise fulfils it in a _deeper_ way. The account we have given already, were it to end there, would be insufficient to excuse the failure of life's promise; by saying that it allures us would be really to charge God with deception. Now life is not deception, but illusion. We distinguish between illusion and delusion. We may paint wood so as to be taken for stone, iron, or marble; this is delusion: but you may paint a picture, in which rocks, trees, and sky are never mistaken for what they seem, yet produce all the emotion which real rocks, trees, and sky would produce. This is illusion, and this is the painter's art: never for one moment to deceive by attempted imitation, but to produce a mental state in which the feelings are suggested which the natural objects themselves would create. Let us take an instance drawn from life. To a child a rainbow is a real thing--substantial and palpable; its limb rests on the side of yonder hill; he believes that he can appropriate it to himself; and when, instead of gems and gold hid in its radiant bow, he finds nothing but damp mist--cold, dreary drops of disappointment--that disappointment tells that his belief has been delusion. To the educated man that bow is a blessed illusion, yet it never once deceives; he does not take it for what it is not, he does not expect to make it his own; he feels its beauty as much as the child could feel it, nay infinitely more--more even from the fact that he knows that it will be transient; but besides and beyond this, to him it presents a deeper loveliness; he knows the laws of light, and the laws of the human soul which gave it being. He has linked it with the laws of the universe, and with the invisible mind of God; and it brings to him a thrill of awe, and the sense of a mysterious, nameless beauty, of which the child did not conceive. It is illusion still; but it has fulfilled the promise. In the realm of spirit, in the temple of the soul, it is the same. All is illusion; "but we look for a city which hath foundations;" and in this the promise is fulfilled. And such was Canaan to the Israelites. To some doubtless it was delusion. They expected to find their reward in a land of milk and honey. They were bitterly disappointed, and expressed their disappointment loudly enough in their murmurs against Moses, and their rebellion against his successors. But to others, as to Abraham, Canaan was the bright illusion which never deceived, but for ever shone before as the type of something more real. And even taking the promise literally, though they built in tents, and could not call a foot of land their own, was not its beauty theirs? Were not its trellised vines, and glorious pastures, and rich olive-fields, ministers to the enjoyment of those who had all in God, though its milk, and oil, and honey, could not be enjoyed with exclusiveness of appropriation? Yet over and above and beyond this, there was a more blessed fulfilment of the promise; there was "a city which had foundations"--built and made by God--toward which the anticipation of this Canaan was leading them. The Kingdom of God was forming in their souls, for ever disappointing them by the unreal, and teaching them that what is spiritual, and belongs to mind and character alone can be eternal. We will illustrate this principle from the common walks of life. The principle is, that the reward we get is not the reward for which we worked, but a deeper one; deeper and more permanent. The merchant labours all his life, and the hope which leads him on is perhaps wealth: well, at sixty years of age he attains wealth; is that the reward of sixty years of toil? Ten years of enjoyment, when the senses can enjoy no longer--a country seat, splendid plate, a noble establishment? Oh, no! a reward deeper than he dreamed of. Habits of perseverance: a character trained by industry: that is his reward. He was carried on from year to year by, if he were wise, illusion; if he were unwise, delusion; but he reaped a more enduring substance in himself. Take another instance: the public man, warrior, or statesman, who has served his country, and complains at last in bitter disappointment, that his country has not fulfilled his expectations in rewarding him--that is, it has not given him titles, honours, wealth. But titles, honours, wealth--are these the rewards of well-doing? can they reward it? would it be well-doing if they could? To _be_ such a man, to have the power of _doing_ such deeds, what could be added to that reward by having? This same apparent contradiction, which was found in Judaism, subsists too in Christianity; we will state it in the words of an apostle: "Godliness is profitable for all things; having the promise of the life that now is, as well as of that which is to come." Now for the fulfilment: "If in this life only we have hope in Christ, then are we of all men most miserable." Godliness is profitable; but its profit it appears, consists in finding that all is loss: yet in this way you teach your son. You will tell him that if he will be good all men will love him. You say that "Honesty is the best policy." yet in your heart of hearts you know that you are leading him on by a delusion. Christ was good. Was he loved by all? In proportion as he--your son--is like Christ, he will be loved, not by the many, but by the few. Honesty is _not_ the best _policy_; the commonplace honesty of the market-place may be--the vulgar honesty which goes no further than paying debts accurately; but that transparent Christian honesty of a life which in every act is bearing witness to the truth, that is not the way to _get on_ in life--the reward of such a life is the Cross. Yet you were right in teaching your son this: you told him what was true; truer than he could comprehend. It _is_ better to be honest and good; better than he can know or dream: better even in this life; better by so much as _being_ good is better than _having_ good. But, in a rude coarse way, you must express the blessedness on a level with his capacity; you must state the truth in a way which he will inevitably interpret falsely. The true interpretation nothing but experience can teach. And this is what God does. His promises are true, though illusive; far truer than we at first take them to be. We work for a mean, low, sensual happiness, all the while He is leading us on to a spiritual blessedness--unfathomably deep. This is the life of faith. We live by faith, and not by sight. We do not preach that all is disappointment--the dreary creed of sentimentalism; but we preach that _nothing_ here is disappointment, if rightly understood. We do not comfort the poor man, by saying that the riches that he has not now he will have hereafter--the difference between himself and the man of wealth being only this, that the one has for time what the other will have for eternity; but what we say is, that that which you have failed in reaping here, you never will reap, if you expected the harvest of Canaan. God has no Canaan for His own; no milk and honey for the luxury of the senses: for the city which hath foundations is built in the soul of man. He in whom Godlike character dwells, has all the universe for his own--"All things," saith the apostle, "are yours; whether life or death, or things present, or things to come; if ye be Christ's, then are ye Abraham's seed, and heirs according to the _promise_." VII. _Preached June 23, 1850._ THE SACRIFICE OF CHRIST. "For the love of Christ constraineth us; because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead; and that He died for all that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him which died for them, and rose again."--2 Corinthians v. 14, 15. It may be, that in reading these verses some of us have understood them in a sense foreign to that of the apostle. It may have seemed that the arguments ran thus--Because Christ died upon the cross for _all_, therefore all must have been in a state of spiritual death before; and if they were asked what doctrines are to be elicited from this passage they would reply, "the doctrine of universal depravity, and the constraining power of the gratitude due to Him who died to redeem us from it." There is, however, in the first place, this fatal objection to such an interpretation, that the death here spoken of is used in two diametrically opposite senses. In reference to Christ, death literal--in reference to all, death spiritual. Now, in the thought of St. Paul, the death of Christ was always viewed as liberation from the power of evil: "in that he died, he died unto sin once," and again, "he that is dead is free from sin." The literal death then in one clause, means _freedom_ from sin; the spiritual death of the next is _slavery_ to it. Wherein then, lies the cogency of the apostle's reasoning? How does it follow that because Christ died to evil, all before that must have died to God? Of course that doctrine is true in itself, but it is _not_ the doctrine of the text. In the next place, the ambiguity belongs only to the English word--it is impossible to make the mistake in the original: the word which stands for _were_, is a word which does not imply a continued state, but must imply a single finished act. It cannot by any possibility imply that before the death of Christ men _were_ in a state of death--it can only mean, they became dead at the moment when Christ died. If you read it thus, the meaning of the English will emerge--"if one died for all, then all died;" and the apostle's argument runs thus, that if one acts as the representative of all, then his act is the act of all. If the ambassador of a nation makes reparation in a nation's name, or does homage for a nation, that reparation, or that homage, is the nation's act--if _one_ did it _for_ all, then _all_ did it. So that instead of inferring that because Christ died for all, therefore before that all were dead to God, his natural inference is that therefore all are now dead to sin. Once more, the conclusion of the apostle is exactly the reverse of that which this interpretation attributes to him: he does not say that Christ died in order that men might _not_ die, but exactly for this very purpose, that they _might_ die; and this death he represents in the next verse by an equivalent expression--the life of unselfishness: "that they which live might henceforth live not unto themselves." The "dead" of the first verse are "they that live" of the second. The form of thought finds its exact parallel in Romans vi. 10, 11. Two points claim our attention:-- I. The vicarious sacrifice of Christ. II. The influence of that sacrifice on man. I. The vicariousness of the sacrifice is implied in the word "for". A vicarious act is an act done for another. When the Pope calls himself the vicar of Christ, he implies that he acts for Christ. The vicar or viceroy of a kingdom is one who acts for the king--a vicar's act therefore is virtually the act of the principal whom he represents; so that if the Papal doctrine were true, when the vicar of Christ _pardons_, Christ has pardoned. When the viceroy of a kingdom has published a proclamation or signed a treaty, the sovereign himself is bound by those acts. The truth of the expression _for all_, is contained in this fact, that Christ is the representative of Humanity--properly speaking, the representative of human nature. This is the truth contained in the emphatic expression, "Son of Man." What Christ did _for_ Humanity was done by Humanity, because in the name of Humanity. For a truly vicarious act does not supersede the principal's duty of performance, but rather implies and acknowledges it. Take the case from which this very word of vicar has received its origin. In the old monastic times, when the revenues of a cathedral or a cure fell to the lot of a monastery, it became the duty of that monastery to perform the religious services of the cure. But inasmuch as the monastery was a corporate body, they appointed one of their number, whom they denominated their vicar, to discharge those offices for them. His service did not supersede theirs, but was a perpetual and standing acknowledgement that they, as a whole and individually, were under the obligation to perform it. The act of Christ is the act of Humanity--that which all Humanity is bound to do. His righteousness does not supersede our righteousness, nor does His sacrifice supersede our sacrifice. It is the representation of human life and human sacrifice--vicarious for all, yet binding upon all. That He died for all is true-- 1. Because He was the victim of the sin of all. In the peculiar phraseology of St. Paul, he died unto sin. He was the victim of Sin--He died by sin. It is the appalling mystery of our redemption that the Redeemer took the attitude of subjection to evil. There was scarcely a form of evil with which Christ did not come in contact, and by which He did not suffer. He was the victim of false friendship and ingratitude, the victim of bad government and injustice. He fell a sacrifice to the vices of all classes--to the selfishness of the rich and the fickleness of the poor:--intolerance, formalism, scepticism, hatred of goodness, were the foes which crushed Him. In the proper sense of the word He was a victim. He did not adroitly wind through the dangerous forms of evil, meeting it with expedient silence. Face to face, and front to front, He met it, rebuked it, and defied it; and just as truly as he is a voluntary victim whose body opposing the progress of the car of Juggernaut is crushed beneath its monstrous wheels, was He a victim to the world's sin: because pure, He was crushed by impurity; because just and real and true, He waked up the rage of injustice, hypocrisy, and falsehood. Now this sin was the sin of all. Here arises at once a difficulty: it seems to be most unnatural to assert that in any one sense He was the sacrifice of the sin of all. We did not betray Him--that was Judas's act--Peter denied Him--Thomas doubted--Pilate pronounced sentence--it must be a figment to say that these were our acts; we did not watch Him like the Pharisees, nor circumvent Him like the Scribes and lawyers; by what possible sophistry can we be involved in the complicity of that guilt? The savage of New Zealand who never heard of Him, the learned Egyptian and the voluptuous Assyrian who died before He came; how was it the sin of all? The reply that is often given to this query is wonderfully unreal. It is assumed that Christ was conscious, by His Omniscience, of the sins of all mankind; that the duplicity of the child, and the crime of the assassin, and every unholy thought that has ever passed through a human bosom, were present to His mind in that awful hour as if they were His own. This is utterly unscriptural. Where is the single text from which it can be, except by force, extracted? Besides this, it is fanciful and sentimental; and again it is dangerous, for it represents the whole Atonement as a fictitious and shadowy transaction. There is a mental state in which men have felt the burthen of sins which they did not commit. There have been cases in which men have been mysteriously excruciated with the thought of having committed the unpardonable sin. But to represent the mental phenomena of the Redeemer's mind as in any way resembling this--to say that His conscience was oppressed with the responsibility of sins which He had not committed--is to confound a state of sanity with the delusions of a half lucid mind, and the workings of a healthy conscience with those of one unnatural and morbid. There is a way however, much more appalling and much more true, in which this may be true, without resorting to any such fanciful hypothesis. Sin has a great power in this world: it gives laws like those of a sovereign, which bind us all, and to which we are all submissive. There are current maxims in church and state, in society, in trade, in law, to which we yield obedience. For this obedience every one is responsible; for instance in trade, and in the profession of law, every one is the servant of practices the rectitude of which his heart can only half approve--every one complains of them, yet all are involved in them. Now, when such sins reach their climax, as in the case of national bankruptcy or an unjust acquittal, there may be some who are in a special sense, the actors in the guilt; but evidently, for the bankruptcy, each member of the community is responsible in that degree and so far as he himself acquiesced in the duplicities of public dealing; every careless juror, every unrighteous judge, every false witness, has done his part in the reduction of society to that state in which the monster injustice has been perpetrated. In the riot of a tumultuous assembly by night, a house may be burnt, or a murder committed; in the eye of the law, all who are aiding and abetting there are each in his degree responsible for that crime; there may be difference in guilt, from the degree in which he is guilty who with his own hand perpetrated the deed, to that of him who merely joined the rabble from mischievous curiosity--degrees from that of wilful murder to that of more or less excusable homicide. The Pharisees were declared by the Saviour to be guilty of the blood of Zacharias, the blood of righteous Abel, and of all the saints and prophets who fell before He came. But how were the Pharisees guilty? They built the sepulchres of the prophets, they honoured and admired them; but they were guilty, in that they were the children of those that slew the prophets; children in this sense, that they inherited their _spirit_, they opposed the good in the form in which it showed itself in _their day_, just as their fathers opposed the form displayed to theirs; therefore He said that they belonged to the same confederacy of evil, and that the guilt of the blood of all who had been slain should rest on that generation. Similarly we are guilty of the death of Christ. If you have been a false friend, a sceptic, a cowardly disciple, a formalist, selfish, an opposer of goodness, an oppressor, whatever evil you have done, in that degree and so far you participate in the evil to which the Just One fell a victim--you are one of that mighty rabble which cry, "Crucify Him, Crucify Him!" for your sin He died; His blood lies at your threshold. Again, He died for all, in that His sacrifice represents the sacrifice of all. We have heard of the doctrine of "imputed righteousness;" it is a theological expression to which meanings foolish enough are sometimes attributed, but it contains a very deep truth, which it shall be our endeavour to elicit. Christ is the realized idea of our Humanity. He is God's idea of Man completed. There is every difference between the ideal and the actual--between what a man aims to be and what he is; a difference between the race as it is, and the race as it existed in God's creative idea when he pronounced it very good. In Christ, therefore, God beholds Humanity; in Christ He sees perfected every one in whom Christ's spirit exists in germ. He to whom the possible is actual, to whom what will be already _is_, sees all things _present_, gazes on the imperfect, and sees it in its perfection. Let me venture an illustration. He who has never seen the vegetable world except in Arctic regions, has but a poor idea of the majesty of vegetable life,--a microscopic red moss tinting the surface of the snow, a few stunted pines, and here and there perhaps a dwindled oak; but to the botanist who has seen the luxuriance of vegetation in its tropical magnificence, all that wretched scene presents another aspect; to him those dwarfs are the representatives of what might be, nay, what has been in a kindlier soil and a more genial climate; he fills up by his conception the miserable actuality presented by these shrubs, and attributes to them--imputes, that is, to them--the majesty of which the undeveloped germ exists already. Now the difference between those trees seen in themselves, and seen in the conception of their nature's perfectness which has been previously realized, is the difference between man seen in himself and seen in Christ. We are feeble, dwarfish, stunted specimens of Humanity. Our best resolves are but withered branches, our holiest deeds unripe and blighted fruit; but to the Infinite Eye, who sees in the perfect One the type and assurance of that which shall be, this dwindled Humanity of ours is divine and glorious. Such are we in the sight of God the Father as is the very Son of God Himself. This is what theologians, at least the wisest of them, meant by "imputed righteousness." I do not mean that all who have written or spoken on the subject had this conception of it, but I believe they who thought truly meant this; they did not suppose that in imputing righteousness there was a kind of figment, a self-deception in the mind of God; they did not mean that by an act of will He chose to consider that every act which Christ did was done by us; that He imputed or reckoned to us the baptism in Jordan and the victory in the wilderness, and the agony in the garden, or that He believed, or acted as if He believed, that when Christ died, each one of us died: but He saw Humanity submitted to the law of self-sacrifice; in the light of that idea He beholds us as perfect, and is satisfied. In this sense the apostle speaks of those that are imperfect, yet "by one offering He hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified." It is true again, that He died for us, in that we present His sacrifice as ours. The value of the death of Christ consisted in the surrender of self-will. In the fortieth Psalm, the value of every other kind of sacrifice being first denied, the words follow, "then said I, Lo, I come to do thy will, O God." The profound idea contained, therefore, in the death of Christ is the duty of self-surrender. But in _us_ that surrender scarcely deserves the name; even to use the word self-sacrifice covers us with a kind of shame. Then it is that there is an almost boundless joy in acquiescing in the life and death of Christ, recognizing it as ours, and representing it to ourselves and God as what we aim at. If we cannot understand how in this sense it can be a sacrifice for us, we may partly realize it by remembering the joy of feeling how art and nature realize for us what we cannot realize for ourselves. It is recorded of one of the world's gifted painters that he stood before the master-piece of the great genius of his age--one which he could never hope to equal, nor even rival--and yet the infinite superiority, so far from crushing him, only elevated his feeling, for he saw realized those conceptions which had floated before him, dim and unsubstantial; in every line and touch he felt a spirit immeasurably superior yet kindred, and he is reported to have exclaimed, with dignified humility, "And I too am a painter!" We must all have felt, when certain effects in nature, combinations of form and colour, have been presented to us, our own idea speaking in intelligible and yet celestial language; when for instance, the long bars of purple, "edged with intolerable radiance," seemed to float in a sea of pale pure green, when the whole sky seemed to reel with thunder, when the night wind moaned. It is wonderful how the most commonplace men and women, beings who, as you would have thought, had no conception that rose beyond a commercial speculation, or a fashionable entertainment, are elevated by such scenes; how the slumbering grandeur of their nature wakes and acknowledges kindred with the sky and storm. "I cannot speak," they would say, "the feelings which are in me; I have had emotions, aspirations, thoughts; I cannot put them into words. Look there! listen now to the storm! That is what I meant, only I never could say it out till now." Thus do art and nature speak for us, and thus do we adopt them as our own. This is the way in which His righteousness becomes righteousness for us. This is the way in which the heart presents to God the sacrifice of Christ; gazing on that perfect Life we, as it were, say, "There, that is my religion--that is my righteousness--what I want to be, which I am not--that is my offering, my life as I would wish to give it, freely and not checked, entire and perfect." So the old prophets, their hearts big with unutterable thoughts, searched "what or what manner of time the spirit of Christ which was in them did signify, when it testified beforehand of the sufferings of Christ, and of the glory which should follow;" and so with us, until it passes into prayer: "My Saviour, fill up the blurred and blotted sketch which my clumsy hand has drawn of a divine life, with the fullness of Thy perfect picture. I feel the beauty which I cannot realize:--robe me in Thine unutterable purity:-- "Rock of ages cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee." II. The influence of that Sacrifice on man is the introduction of the principle of self-sacrifice into his nature,--"then were all dead." Observe again, not He died that we might not die, but that in His death we might be dead, and that in His sacrifice we might become each a sacrifice to God. Moreover, this death is identical with life. They who in the first sentence, are called dead, are in the second denominated "they who live." So in another place, "I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live;" death, therefore--that is the sacrifice of self--is equivalent to life. Now, this rests upon a profound truth. The death of Christ was a representation of the life of God. To me this is the profoundest of all truths, that the whole of the life of God is the sacrifice of self. God is Love; love is sacrifice--to give rather than to receive--the blessedness of self-giving. If the life of God were not such it would be a falsehood, to say that God is Love; for even in our human nature, that which seeks to enjoy all instead of giving all, is known by a very different name from that of love. All the life of God is a flow of this divine self-giving charity. Creation itself is sacrifice--the self-impartation of the divine Being. Redemption too, is sacrifice, else it could not be love; for which reason we will not surrender one iota of the truth that the death of Christ was the sacrifice of God--the manifestation once in time of that which is the eternal law of His life. If man therefore, is to rise into the life of God, he must be absorbed into the spirit of that sacrifice--he must die with Christ if he would enter into his proper life. For sin is the withdrawing into self and egotism, out of the vivifying life of God, which alone is our true life. The moment the man sins he dies. Know we not how awfully true that sentence is, "Sin revived, and I died?" The vivid life of sin is the death of the man. Have we never felt that our true existence has absolutely in that moment disappeared, and that _we_ are not? I say therefore, that real human life is a perpetual completion and repetition of the sacrifice of Christ--"all are dead;" the explanation of which follows, "to live not to themselves, but to Him who died for them and rose again." This is the truth which lies at the bottom of the Romish doctrine of the mass. Rome asserts that in the mass a true and proper sacrifice is offered up for the sins of all--that the offering of Christ is for ever repeated. To this Protestantism has objected vehemently, that there is but one offering once offered--an objection in itself entirely true; yet the Romish doctrine contains a truth which it is of importance to disengage from the gross and material form with which it has been overlaid. Let us hear St. Paul, "I fill up that which is behindhand of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh, for His body's sake, which is the Church." Was there then, something behindhand of Christ's sufferings remaining uncompleted, of which the sufferings of Paul could be in any sense the complement? He says there was. Could the sufferings of Paul for the Church in any form of correct expression be said to eke out the sufferings that were complete? In one sense it is true to say that there is one offering once offered _for_ all. But it is equally true to say that that one offering is valueless, except so far as it is completed and repeated in the life and self-offering _of_ all. This is the Christian's sacrifice. Not mechanically completed in the miserable materialism of the mass, but spiritually in the life of all in whom the Crucified lives. The sacrifice of Christ is done over again in every life which is lived, not to self but, to God. Let one concluding observation be made--self-denial, self-sacrifice, self-surrender! Hard doctrines, and impossible! Whereupon, in silent hours, we sceptically ask, Is this possible? is it natural? Let preacher and moralist say what they will, I am not here to sacrifice myself for others. God sent me here for happiness, not misery. Now introduce one sentence of this text of which we have as yet said nothing, and the dark doctrine becomes illuminated--"the _love_ of Christ constraineth us." Self-denial, for the sake of self-denial, does no good; self-sacrifice for its own sake is no religious act at all. If you give up a meal for the sake of showing power over self, or for the sake of self-discipline, it is the most miserable of all delusions. You are not more religious in doing this than before. This is mere self-culture, and self-culture being occupied for ever about self, leaves you only in that circle of self from which religion is to free you; but to give up a meal that one you love may have it, is properly a religious act--no hard and dismal duty, because made easy by affection. To bear pain for the sake of bearing it has in it no moral quality at all, but to bear it rather than surrender truth, or in order to save another, is positive enjoyment as well as ennobling to the soul. Did you ever receive even a blow meant for another in order to shield that other? Do you not know that there was actual pleasure in the keen pain far beyond the most rapturous thrill of nerve which could be gained from pleasure in the midst of painlessness? Is not the mystic yearning of love expressed in words most purely thus, Let me suffer for him? This element of love is that which makes this doctrine an intelligible and blessed truth. So sacrifice alone, bare and unrelieved, is ghastly, unnatural, and dead; but self-sacrifice, illuminated by love, is warmth and life; it is the death of Christ, the life of God, the blessedness, and only proper life of man. VIII. _Preached June 30, 1850._ THE POWER OF SORROW. "Now I rejoice, not that ye were made sorry, but that ye sorrowed to repentance: for ye were made sorry after a godly manner, that ye might receive damage by us in nothing. For godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of: but the sorrow of the world worketh death."--2 Corinthians vii. 9, 10. That which is chiefly insisted on in this verse, is the distinction between sorrow and repentance. To grieve over sin is one thing, to repent of it is another. The apostle rejoiced, not that the Corinthians sorrowed, but that they sorrowed unto repentance. Sorrow has two results; it may end in spiritual life, or in spiritual death; and in themselves, one of these is as natural as the other. Sorrow may produce two kinds of reformation--a transient, or a permanent one--an alteration in habits, which originating in emotion, will last so long as that emotion continues, and then after a few fruitless efforts, be given up,--a repentance which will be repented of; or again, a permanent change, which will be reversed by no after thought--a repentance not to be repented of. Sorrow is in itself, therefore, a thing neither good nor bad: its value depends on the spirit of the person on whom it falls. Fire will inflame straw, soften iron, or harden clay; its effects are determined by the object with which it comes in contact. Warmth developes the energies of life, or helps the progress of decay. It is a great power in the hot-house, a great power also in the coffin; it expands the leaf, matures the fruit, adds precocious vigour to vegetable life: and warmth too developes, with tenfold rapidity, the weltering process of dissolution. So too with sorrow. There are spirits in which it developes the seminal principle of life; there are others in which it prematurely hastens the consummation of irreparable decay. Our subject therefore is the twofold power of sorrow. I. The fatal power of the sorrow of the world. II. The life-giving power of the sorrow that is after God. The simplest way in which the sorrow of the world works death, is seen in the effect of mere regret for worldly loss. There are certain advantages with which we come into the world. Youth, health, friends, and sometimes property. So long as these are continued we are happy; and because happy, fancy ourselves very grateful to God. We bask in the sunshine of His gifts, and this pleasant sensation of sunning ourselves in life we call religion; that state in which we all are before sorrow comes, to test the temper of the metal of which our souls are made, when the spirits are unbroken and the heart buoyant, when a fresh morning is to a young heart what it is to the skylark. The exuberant burst of joy seems a spontaneous hymn to the Father of all blessing, like the matin carol of the bird; but this is not religion: it is the instinctive utterance of happy feeling, having as little of moral character in it, in the happy human being, as in the happy bird. Nay more--the religion which is only sunned into being by happiness, is a suspicious thing: having been warmed by joy, it will become cold when joy is over; and then when these blessings are removed, we count ourselves hardly treated, as if we had been defrauded of a right; rebellious hard feelings come; then it is you see people become bitter, spiteful, discontented. At every step in the solemn path of life, something must be mourned which will come back no more; the temper that was so smooth becomes rugged and uneven; the benevolence that expanded upon all, narrows into an ever dwindling selfishness--we are alone; and then that death-like loneliness deepens as life goes on. The course of man is downwards, and he moves with slow and ever more solitary steps, down to the dark silence--the silence of the grave. This is the death of heart; the sorrow of the world has worked death. Again there is a sorrow of the world, when sin is grieved for in a worldly spirit. There are two views of sin: in one it is looked upon as wrong--in the other, as producing loss--loss for example, of character. In such cases, if character could be preserved before the world, grief would not come; but the paroxysms of misery fall upon our proud spirit when our guilt is made public. The most distinct instance we have of this is in the life of Saul. In the midst of his apparent grief, the thing still uppermost was that he had forfeited his kingly character: almost the only longing was, that Samuel should honour him before his people. And hence it comes to pass, that often remorse and anguish only begin with exposure. Suicide takes place, not when the act of wrong is done, but when the guilt is known, and hence too, many a one becomes hardened who would otherwise have remained tolerably happy; in consequence of which we blame the exposure, not the guilt; we say if it had hushed up, all would have been well; that the servant who robbed his master was ruined by taking away his character; and that if the sin had been passed over, repentance might have taken place, and he might have remained a respectable member of society. Do not think so. It is quite true that remorse was produced by exposure, and that the remorse was fatal; the sorrow which worked death arose from that exposure, and so far exposure may be called the cause: had it never taken place, respectability, and comparative peace, might have continued; but outward respectability is not change of heart. It is well known that the corpse has been preserved for centuries in the iceberg, or in antiseptic peat; and that when atmospheric air was introduced to the exposed surface it crumbled into dust. Exposure worked dissolution, but it only manifested the death which was already there; so with sorrow, it is not the living heart which drops to pieces, or crumbles into dust, when it is revealed. Exposure did not work death in the Corinthian sinner, but life. There is another form of grief for sin, which the apostle would not have rejoiced to see; it is when the hot tears come from pride. No two tones of feeling, apparently similar, are more unlike than that in which Saul exclaimed, "I have played the fool exceedingly," and that in which the Publican cried out, "God be merciful to me a sinner." The charge of folly brought against oneself only proves that we feel bitterly for having lost our own self-respect. It is a humiliation to have forfeited the idea which a man had formed of his own character--to find that the very excellence on which he prided himself, is the one in which he has failed. If there were a virtue for which Saul was conspicuous, it was generosity; yet it was exactly in this point of generosity in which he discovered himself to have failed, when he was overtaken on the mountain, and his life spared by the very man whom he was hunting to the death, with feelings of the meanest jealousy. Yet there was no real repentance there; there was none of that in which a man is sick of state and pomp. Saul could still rejoice in regal splendour, go about complaining of himself to the Ziphites, as if he was the most ill-treated and friendless of mankind; he was still jealous of his reputation, and anxious to be well thought of. Quite different is the tone in which the Publican, who felt himself a sinner, asked for mercy. He heard the contumelious expression of the Pharisee, "this Publican." With no resentment, he meekly bore it as a matter naturally to be taken for granted--"he did not so much as lift up his eyes to heaven;" he was as a worm which turns in agony, but not revenge, upon the foot which treads it into the dust. Now this sorrow of Saul's too, works death: no merit can restore self-respect; when once a man has found himself out, he cannot be deceived again. The heart is as a stone: a speck of canker corrodes and spreads within. What on this earth remains, but endless sorrow, for him who has ceased to respect himself, and has no God to turn to? II. The divine power of sorrow. 1. It works repentance. By repentance is meant, in Scripture, change of life, alteration of habits, renewal of heart. This is the aim and meaning of all sorrow. The consequences of sin are meant to wean from sin. The penalty annexed to it is in the first instance, corrective, not penal. Fire burns the child, to teach it one of the truths of this universe--the property of fire to burn. The first time it cuts its hand with a sharp knife, it has gained a lesson which it never will forget. Now, in the case of pain, this experience is seldom, if ever, in vain. There is little chance of a child forgetting that fire will burn, and that sharp steel will cut; but the moral lessons contained in the penalties annexed to wrong-doing are just as truly intended, though they are by no means so unerring in enforcing their application. The fever in the veins and the headache which succeed intoxication, are meant to warn against excess. On the first occasion they are simply corrective; in every succeeding one they assume more and more a penal character in proportion as the conscience carries with them the sense of ill desert. Sorrow then, has done its work when it deters from evil; in other words when it works repentance. In the sorrow of the world, the obliquity of the heart towards evil is not cured; it seems as if nothing cured it: heartache and trials come in vain; the history of life at last is what it was at first. The man is found erring where he erred before. The same course, begun with the certainty of the same desperate end which has taken place so often before. They have reaped the whirlwind, but they will again sow the wind. Hence I believe, that life-giving sorrow is less remorse for that which is irreparable, than anxiety to save that which remains. The sorrow that ends in death hangs in funeral weeds over the sepulchres of the past. Yet the present does not become more wise. Not one resolution is made more firm, nor one habit more holy. Grief is all. Whereas sorrow avails _only_ when the past is converted into experience, and from failure lessons are learned which never are to be forgotten. 2. Permanence of alteration; for after all, a steady reformation is a more decisive test of the value of mourning than depth of grief. The susceptibility of emotion varies with individuals. Some men feel intensely, others suffer less keenly; but this is constitutional, belonging to nervous temperament, rather than to moral character. _This_ is the characteristic of the divine sorrow, that it is a repentance "not repented of;" no transient, short-lived resolutions, but sustained resolve. And the beautiful law is, that in proportion as the, repentance increases the grief diminishes. "I rejoice," says Paul, that "I made you sorry, though it were but for a time." Grief for a time, repentance for ever. And few things more signally prove the wisdom of this apostle than his way of dealing with this grief of the Corinthian. He tried no artificial means of intensifying it--did not urge the duty of dwelling upon it, magnifying it, nor even of gauging and examining it. So soon as grief had done its work, the apostle was anxious to dry useless tears--he even feared lest haply such an one should be swallowed up with overmuch sorrow. "A true penitent," says Mr. Newman, "never forgives himself." O false estimate of the gospel of Christ, and of the heart of man! A proud remorse does not forgive itself the forfeiture of its own dignity; but it is the very beauty of the penitence which is according to God, that at last the sinner, realizing God's forgiveness, does learn to forgive himself. For what other purpose did St. Paul command the Church of Corinth to give ecclesiastical absolution, but in order to afford a symbol and assurance of the Divine pardon, in which the guilty man's grief should not be overwhelming, but that he should become reconciled to himself? What is meant by the Publican's going _down to his house_ justified, but that he felt at peace with himself and God? 3. It is sorrow with God--here called godly sorrow; in the margin sorrowing according to God. God sees sin not in its consequences but in itself: a thing infinitely evil, even if the consequences were happiness to the guilty instead of misery. So sorrow according to God, is to see sin as God sees it. The grief of Peter was as bitter as that of Judas. He went out and wept bitterly; how bitterly none can tell but they who have learned to look on sin as God does. But in Peter's grief there was an element of hope; and that sprung precisely from this--that he saw God in it all. Despair of self did not lead to despair of God. This is the great, peculiar feature of this sorrow: God is there, accordingly self is less prominent. It is not a microscopic self-examination, nor a mourning in which self is ever uppermost: _my_ character gone; the greatness of _my_ sin; the forfeiture of _my_ salvation. The thought of God absorbs all that. I believe the feeling of true penitence would express itself in such words as these:--There _is_ a righteousness, though I have not attained it. There is a purity, and a love, and a beauty, though my life exhibits little of it. In that I can rejoice. Of that I can feel the surpassing loveliness. My doings? They are worthless, I cannot endure to think of them. I am not thinking of them. I have something else to think of. There, there; in that Life I see it. And so the Christian--gazing not on what he is, but on what he desires to be--dares in penitence to say, That righteousness is mine: dares, even when the recollection of his sin is most vivid and most poignant, to say with Peter, thinking less of himself than of God, and sorrowing as it were with God--"Lord, Thou knowest all things, Thou knowest that I love Thee." IX. _Preached August 4, 1850._ SENSUAL AND SPIRITUAL EXCITEMENT. "Wherefore be ye not unwise, but understanding what the will of the Lord is. And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit."--Ephesians v. 17, 18. There is evidently a connection between the different branches of this sentence--for ideas cannot be properly contrasted which have not some connection--but what that connection is, is not at first sight clear. It almost appears like a profane and irreverent juxtaposition to contrast fulness of the Spirit with fulness of wine. Moreover, the structure of the whole context is antithetical. Ideas are opposed to each other in pairs of contraries; for instance, "fools" is the exact opposite to "wise;" "unwise," as opposed to "understanding," its proper opposite. And here again, there must be the same true antithesis between drunkenness and spiritual fulness. The propriety of this opposition lies in the intensity of feeling produced in both, cases. There is one intensity of feeling produced by stimulating the senses, another by vivifying the spiritual life within. The one commences with impulses from without, the other is guarded by forces from within. Here then is the similarity, and here the dissimilarity, which constitutes the propriety of the contrast. One is ruin, the other salvation. One degrades, the other exalts. This contrast then is our subject for to-day. I. The effects are similar. On the day of Pentecost, when the first influences of the Spirit descended on the early Church, the effects resembled intoxication. They were full of the Spirit, and mocking bystanders said, "These men are full of new wine;" for they found themselves elevated into the ecstasy of a life higher than their own, possessed of powers which they could not control; they spoke incoherently and irregularly; to the most part of those assembled, unintelligibly. Now compare with this the impression produced upon savage nations--suppose those early ages in which the spectacle of intoxication was presented for the first time. They saw a man under the influence of a force different from and in some respects inferior to, their own. To them the bacchanal appeared a being half inspired; his frenzy seemed a thing for reverence and awe, rather than for horror and disgust; the spirit which possessed him must be they thought, divine; they deified it, worshipped it under different names as a god; even to a clearer insight the effects are wonderfully similar. It is almost proverbial among soldiers that the daring produced by wine is easily mistaken for the self-devotion of a brave heart. The play of imagination in the brain of the opium-eater is as free as that of genius itself, and the creations produced in that state by the pen or pencil are as wildly beautiful as those owed to the nobler influences. In years gone by, the oratory of the statesman in the senate has been kindled by semi-intoxication, when his noble utterances were set down by his auditors to the inspiration of patriotism. It is this very resemblance which deceives the drunkard: he is led on by his feelings as well as by his imagination. It is not the sensual pleasure of the glutton that fascinates him; it is those fine thoughts and those quickened sensibilities which were excited in that state, which he is powerless to produce out of his own being, or by his own powers, and which he expects to reproduce by the same means. The experience of our first parent is repeated in him: at the very moment when he expects to find himself as the gods, knowing good and evil, he discovers that he is unexpectedly degraded, his health wrecked, and his heart demoralized. Hence it is almost as often the finer as the baser spirits of our race which are found the victims of such indulgence. Many will remember while I speak, the names of the gifted of their species, the degraded men of genius who were the victims of these deceptive influences. The half-inspired painter, poet, musician, who began by soothing opiates to calm the over-excited nerves, or stimulate the exhausted brain, who mistook the sensation for somewhat half divine, and became morally and physically wrecks of manhood, degraded even in their mental conceptions. It was therefore, no mere play of words which induced the apostle to bring these two things together. That which might else seem irreverent appears to have been a deep knowledge of human nature; he contrasts, because his rule was to distinguish two things which are easily mistaken for each other. 2. The second point of resemblance is the necessity of intense feeling. We have fulness--fulness, it may be, produced by outward stimulus, or else by an inpouring of the Spirit. What we want is life, "more life, and fuller." To escape from monotony, to get away from the life of mere routine and habits, to feel that we are alive--with more of surprise and wakefulness in our existence. To have less of the gelid, torpid, tortoise-like existence. "To feel the years before us." To be consciously existing. Now this desire lies at the bottom of many forms of life which are apparently as diverse as possible. It constitutes the fascination of the gambler's life: money is not what he wants--were he possessed of thousands to-day he would risk them all to-morrow--but it is that being perpetually on the brink of enormous wealth and utter ruin, he is compelled to realize at every moment the possibility of the extremes of life. Every moment is one of feeling. This too, constitutes the charm of all those forms of life in which the gambling feeling is predominant--where a sense of skill is blended with a mixture of chance. If you ask the statesman why it is, that possessed as he is of wealth, he quits his princely home for the dark metropolis, he would reply, "That he loves the excitement of a political existence." It is this too, which gives to the warrior's and the traveller's existence such peculiar reality; and it is this in a far lower form which stimulates the pleasure of a fashionable life--which sends the votaries of the world in a constant round from the capital to the watering place, and from the watering place to the capital; what they crave for is the power of feeling intensely. Now the proper and natural outlet for this feeling is the life of the Spirit. What is religion but fuller life? To live in the Spirit, what is it but to have keener feelings and mightier powers--to rise into a higher consciousness of life? What is religion's self but feeling? The highest form of religion is charity. Love is of God, and he that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. This is an intense feeling, too intense to be excited, profound in its calmness, yet it rises at times in its higher flights into that ecstatic life which glances in a moment intuitively through ages. These are the pentecostal hours of our existence, when the Spirit comes as a mighty rushing wind, in cloven tongues of fire, filling the soul with God. II. The dissimilarity or contrast in St. Paul's idea. The one fulness begins from without, the other from within. The one proceeds from the flesh and then influences the emotions. The other reverses this order. Stimulants like wine, inflame the senses, and through them set the imaginations and feelings on fire; and the law of our spiritual being is, that that which begins with the flesh, sensualizes the Spirit--whereas that which commences in the region of the Spirit, spiritualizes the senses in which it subsequently stirs emotion. But the misfortune is that men mistake this law of their emotions; and the fatal error is, when having found spiritual feelings existing in connection, and associated with, fleshly sensations, men expect by the mere irritation of the emotions of the frame to reproduce those high and glorious feelings. You might conceive the recipients of the Spirit on the day of Pentecost acting under this delusion; it is conceiveable that having observed certain bodily phenomena--for instance, incoherent utterances and thrilled sensibilities coexisting with those sublime spiritualities--they might have endeavoured, by a repetition of those incoherencies, to obtain a fresh descent of the Spirit. In fact, this was exactly what was tried in after ages of the Church. In those events of church history which are denominated revivals, in the camp of the Methodist and the Ranter, a direct attempt was made to arouse the emotions by exciting addresses and vehement language. Convulsions, shrieks, and violent emotions, were produced, and the unfortunate victims of this mistaken attempt to produce the cause by the effect, fancied themselves, and were pronounced by others, converted. Now the misfortune is, that this delusion is the more easy from the fact that the results of the two kinds of causes resemble each other. You may galvanize the nerve of a corpse till the action of a limb startles the spectator with the appearance of life. It is not life, it is only a spasmodic hideous mimicry of life. Men having seen that the spiritual is always associated with forms, endeavour by reproducing the forms to recall spirituality; you do produce thereby a something that looks like spirituality, but it is a resemblance only. The worst case of all occurs in the department of the affections. That which begins in the heart ennobles the whole animal being, but that which begins in the inferior departments of our being is the most entire degradation and sensualizing of the soul. Now it is from this point of thought that we learn to extend the apostle's principle. Wine is but a specimen of a class of stimulants. All that begins from _without_ belongs to the same class. The stimulus may be afforded by almost any enjoyment of the senses. Drunkenness may come from anything wherein is excess: from over-indulgence in society, in pleasure, in music, and in the delight of listening to oratory, nay, even from the excitement of sermons and religious meetings. The prophet tells us of those who are drunken, and not with wine. The other point of difference is one of effect. Fulness of the Spirit calms; fulness produced by excitement satiates and exhausts. They who know the world of fashion tell us that the tone adopted there is, either to be, or to affect to be, sated with enjoyment, to be proof against surprise, to have lost all keenness of enjoyment, and to have all keenness of wonder gone. That which ought to be men's shame becomes their boast--unsusceptibility of any fresh emotion. Whether this be real or affected matters not; it is, in truth, the real result of the indulgence of the senses. The law is this: the "crime of sense is avenged by sense which wears with time;" for it has been well remarked that the terrific punishment attached to the habitual indulgence of the senses is, that the incitements to enjoyment increase in proportion as the power of enjoyment fades. Experience at last forbids even the hope of enjoyment; the sin of the intoxicated soul is loathed, detested, abhorred; yet it is done. The irritated sense, like an avenging fury, goads on with a restlessness of craving, and compels a reiteration of the guilt though it has ceased to charm. To this danger our own age is peculiarly exposed. In the earlier and simpler ages, the need of keen feeling finds a natural and safe outlet in compulsory exertions. For instance, in the excitement of real warfare, and in the necessity of providing the sustenance of life, warlike habits and healthy labour stimulate, without exhausting life. But in proportion as civilization advances, a large class of the community are exempted from the necessity of these, and thrown upon a life of leisure. Then it is that artificial life begins, and artificial expedients become necessary to sharpen the feelings amongst the monotony of existence; every amusement and all literature become more pungent in their character; life is no longer a thing proceeding from powers _within_, but sustained by new impulses from without. There is one peculiar form of this danger to which I would specially direct your attention. There is one nation in Europe which, more than any other, has been subjected to these influences. In ages of revolution, nations live fast; centuries of life are passed in fifty years of time. In such a state, individuals become subjected more or less to the influences which are working around them. Scarcely an enjoyment or a book can be met with which does not bear the impress of this intensity. Now, the particular danger to which I allude is French novels, French romances, and French plays. The overflowings of that cup of excitement have reached our shores. I do not say that these works contain anything coarse or gross--better if it were so: evil which comes in a form of grossness is not nearly so dangerous as that which comes veiled in gracefulness and sentiment. Subjects which are better not touched upon at all are discussed, examined, and exhibited in all the most seductive forms of imagery. You would be shocked at seeing your son in a fit of intoxication; yet, I say it solemnly, better that your son should reel through the streets in a fit of drunkenness, than that the delicacy of your daughter's mind should be injured, and her imagination inflamed with false fire. Twenty-four hours will terminate the evil in the one case. Twenty-four hours will not exhaust the effects of the other; you must seek the consequences at the end of many, many years. I speak that which I do know; and if the earnest warning of one who has seen the dangers of which he speaks realized, can reach the heart of one Christian parent, he will put a ban on all such works, and not suffer his children's hearts to be excited by a drunkenness which is worse than that of wine. For the worst of it is, that the men of our time are not yet alive to this growing evil; they are elsewhere--in their studies, counting-houses, professions--not knowing the food, or rather poison, on which their wives' and daughters' intellectual life is sustained. It is precisely those who are most unfitted to sustain the danger, whose feelings need restraint instead of spur, and whose imaginations are most inflammable, that are specially exposed to it. On the other hand, spiritual life calms while it fills. True it is that there are pentecostal moments when such life reaches the stage of ecstasy. But these were given to the Church to prepare her for suffering, to give her martyrs a glimpse of blessedness, which might sustain them afterwards in the terrible struggles of death. True it is that there are pentecostal hours when the soul is surrounded by a kind of glory, and we are tempted to make tabernacles upon the Mount, as if life were meant for rest; but out of that very cloud there comes a voice telling of the Cross, and bidding us descend into the common world again, to simple duties and humble life. This very principle seems to be contained in the text. The apostle's remedy for this artificial feeling is--"Speaking to one another in psalms and hymns, and spiritual songs." Strange remedy! Occupation fit for children--too simple far for men: as astonishing as the remedy prescribed by the prophet to Naaman--to wash in simple water, and be clean; yet therein lies a very important truth. In ancient medical phraseology, herbs possessed of healing natures were called simples: in God's laboratory, all things that heal are simple--all natural enjoyments--all the deepest--are simple too. At night, man fills his banquet-hall with the glare of splendour which fevers as well as fires the heart; and at the very same hour, as if by intended contrast, the quiet stars of God steal forth, shedding, together with the deepest feeling, the profoundest sense of calm. One from whose knowledge of the sources of natural feeling there lies almost no appeal, has said that to him, "The meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that too often lie too deep for tears." This is exceedingly remarkable in the life of Christ. No contrast is more striking than that presented by the thought, that that deep and beautiful Life was spent in the midst of mad Jerusalem. Remember the Son of man standing quietly in the porches of Bethesda, when the streets all around were filled with the revelry of innumerable multitudes, who had come to be present at the annual feast. Remember Him pausing to weep over his country's doomed metropolis, unexcited, while the giddy crowd around Him were shouting "Hosanna to the Son of David!" Remember Him in Pilate's judgment-hall, meek, self-possessed, standing in the serenity of Truth, while all around Him was agitation--hesitation in the breast of Pilate, hatred in the bosom of the Pharisees, and consternation in the heart of the disciples. And this in truth, is what we want: we want the vision of a calmer and simpler Beauty, to tranquillize us in the midst of artificial tastes--we want the draught of a purer spring to cool the flame of our excited life;--we want in other words, the Spirit of the Life of Christ, simple, natural, with power to calm and soothe the feelings which it rouses: the fulness of the Spirit which can never intoxicate! X. _Preached August 11, 1850._ PURITY. "Unto the pure all things are pure: but unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled."--Titus i. 15. For the evils of this world there are two classes of remedies--one is the world's, the other is God's. The world proposes to remedy evil by adjusting the circumstances of this life to man's desires. The world says, give us a perfect set of _circumstances_, and then we shall have a set of perfect men. This principle lies at the root of the system called Socialism. Socialism proceeds on the principle that all moral and even physical evil arises from unjust laws. If the cause be remedied, the effect will be good. But Christianity throws aside all that as merely chimerical. It proves that the fault is not in outward circumstances, but in ourselves. Like the wise physician, who, instead of busying himself with transcendental theories to improve the climate, and the outward circumstances of man, endeavours to relieve and get rid of the tendencies of disease which are from within, Christianity, leaving all outward circumstances to ameliorate themselves, fastens its attention on the spirit which has to deal with them. Christ has declared that the kingdom of heaven is from within. He said to the Pharisee, "Ye make clean the outside of the cup and platter, but within ye are full of extortion and excess." The remedy for all this is a large and liberal charity, so overflowing that "Unto the pure all things are pure." To internal purity all external things _become_ pure. The principle that St. Paul has here laid down is, that each man is the creator of his own world; he walks in a universe of his own creation. As the free air is to one out of health the cause of cold and diseased lungs, so to the healthy man it is a source of greater vigour. The rotten fruit is sweet to the worm, but nauseous to the palate of man. It is the same air and the same fruit acting differently upon different beings. To different men a different world--to one all pollution--to another all purity. To the noble all things are noble, to the mean all things are contemptible. The subject divides itself into two parts. I. The apostle's principle. II. The application of the principle. Here we have the same principle again; each man creates his own world. Take it in its simplest form. The eye creates the outward world it sees. We see not things as they are, but as God has made the eye to receive them. In its strictest sense, the creation of a new man is the creation of a new universe. Conceive an eye so constructed as that the planets and all within them should be minutely seen, and all that is near should be dim and invisible like things seen through a telescope, or as we see through a magnifying glass the plumage of the butterfly, and the bloom upon the peach; then it is manifestly clear that we have called into existence actually a new _creation_, and not new objects. The mind's eye creates a world for itself. Again, the visible world presents a different aspect to each individual man. You will say that the same things you see are seen by all--that the forest, the valley, the flood, and the sea, are the same to all; and yet all these things so seen, to different minds are a myriad of different universes. One man sees in that noble river an emblem of eternity; he closes his lips and feels that GOD is there. Another sees nothing in it but a very convenient road for transporting his spices, silks, and merchandise. To one this world appears useful, to another beautiful. Whence comes the difference? From the soul within us. It can make of this world a vast chaos--"a mighty maze without a plan;" or a mere machine--a collection of lifeless forces; or it can make it the Living Vesture of GOD, the tissue through which He can become visible to us. In the spirit in which we look on it the world is an arena for mere self-advancement, or a place for noble deeds, in which self is forgotten, and GOD is all. Observe, this effect is traceable even in that produced by our different and changeful moods. We make and unmake a world more than once in the space of a single day. In trifling moods all seems trivial. In serious moods all seems solemn. Is the song of the nightingale merry or plaintive? Is it the voice of joy or the harbinger of gloom? Sometimes one, and sometimes the other, according to our different moods. We hear the ocean furious or exulting. The thunder-claps are grand, or angry, according to the different states of our mind. Nay, the very church bells chime sadly or merrily, as our associations determine. They speak the language of our passing moods. The young adventurer revolving sanguine plans upon the milestone, hears them speak to him as God did to Hagar in the wilderness, bidding him back to perseverance and greatness. The soul spreads its own hue over everything; the shroud or wedding-garment of nature is woven in the loom of our own feelings. This universe is the express image and direct counterpart of the souls that dwell in it. Be noble-minded, and all Nature replies--I am divine, the child of God--be thou too, His child, and noble. Be mean, and all Nature dwindles into a contemptible smallness. In the second place, there are two ways in which this principle is true. To the pure, all things and all persons are pure, because their purity makes all seem pure. There are some who go through life complaining of this world; they say they have found nothing but treachery and deceit; the poor are ungrateful, and the rich are selfish, Yet we do not find such the best men. Experience tells us that each man most keenly and unerringly detects in others the vice with which he is most familiar himself. Persons seem to each man what he is himself. One who suspects hypocrisy in the world is rarely transparent; the man constantly on the watch for cheating is generally dishonest; he who suspects impurity is prurient. This is the principle to which Christ alludes when he says, "Give alms of such things as he have; and behold all things are clean unto you." Have a large charity! Large "charity hopeth all things." Look at that sublime apostle who saw the churches of Ephesus and Thessalonica pure, because he saw them in his own large love, and painted them, not as they were, but as his heart filled up the picture; he viewed them in the light of his own nobleness, as representations of his own purity. Once more, to the pure all _things_ are pure, as well as all persons. That which is natural lies not in things, but in the minds of men. There is a difference between prudery and modesty. Prudery detects wrong where no wrong is; the wrong lies in the thoughts, and not in the objects. There is something of over-sensitiveness and over-delicacy which shows not innocence, but an inflammable imagination. And men of the world cannot understand that those subjects and thoughts which to them are full of torture, can be harmless, suggesting nothing evil to the pure in heart. Here however, beware! No sentence of Scripture is more frequently in the lips of persons who permit themselves much license, than the text, "To the pure, all things are pure." Yes, all things natural, but not artificial--scenes which pamper the tastes, which excite the senses. Innocence feels healthily. To it all nature is pure. But, just as the dove trembles at the approach of the hawk, and the young calf shudders at the lion never seen before, so innocence shrinks instinctively from what is wrong by the same divine instinct. If that which is wrong seems pure, then the heart is not pure but vitiated. To the right minded all that is right in the course of this world seems pure. Abraham, looking forward to the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, entreated that it might be averted, and afterwards acquiesced! To the disordered mind "all things are out of course." This is the spirit which pervades the whole of the Ecclesiastes. There were two things which were perpetually suggesting themselves to the mind of Solomon; the intolerable sameness of this world, and the constant desire for change. And yet that same world, spread before the serene eye of God, was pronounced to be all "very good." This disordered universe is the picture of your own mind. We make a wilderness by encouraging artificial wants, by creating sensitive and selfish feelings; then we project everything stamped with the impress of our own feelings, and we gather the whole of creation into our own pained being--"the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now." The world you complain of as impure and wrong is not God's world, but your world; the blight, the dullness, the blank, are all your own. The light which is in you has become darkness, and therefore the light itself is dark. Again, to the pure, all things not only seem pure, but are really so because they are made such. 1. As regards persons. It is a marvellous thing to see how a pure and innocent heart purifies all that it approaches. The most ferocious natures are soothed and tamed by innocence. And so with human beings, there is a delicacy so pure, that vicious men in its presence become almost pure; all of purity which is in them is brought out; like attaches itself to like. The pure heart becomes a centre of attraction, round which similar atoms gather, and from which dissimilar ones are repelled. A corrupt heart elicits in an hour all that is bad in us; a spiritual one brings out and draws to itself all that is best and purest. Such was Christ. He stood in the world, the Light of the world, to which all sparks of light gradually gathered. He stood in the presence of impurity, and men became pure. Note this in the history of Zaccheus. In answer to the invitation of the Son of man, he says, "Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor, and if I have done wrong to any man I restore him fourfold." So also the Scribe, "Well, Master, thou hast well said, there is one God, and there is none other than He." To the pure Saviour, all was pure. He was lifted up on high, and drew all men unto Him. Lastly, all situations are pure to the pure. According to the world, some professions are reckoned honourable, and some dishonourable. Men judge according to a standard merely conventional, and not by that of moral rectitude. Yet it was in truth, the men who were in these situations which made them such. In the days of the Redeemer, the publican's occupation was a degraded one, merely because low base men filled that place. But since He was born into the world a poor, labouring man, poverty is noble and dignified, and toil is honourable. To the man who feels that "the king's daughter is all glorious within," no outward situation can seem inglorious or impure. There are three words which express almost the same thing, but whose meaning is entirely different. These are, the gibbet, the scaffold, and the cross. So far as we know, none die on the gibbet but men of dishonourable and base life. The scaffold suggests to our minds the noble deaths of our greatest martyrs. The cross was once a gibbet, but it is now the highest name we have, because He hung on it. Christ has purified and ennobled the cross. This principle runs through life. It is not the situation which makes the man, but the man who makes the situation. The slave may be a freeman. The monarch may be a slave. Situations are noble or ignoble, as we make them. From all this subject we learn to understand two things. Hence we understand the Fall. When man fell, the world fell with him. All creation received a shock. Thorns, briars, and thistles, sprang up. They were there before, but to the now restless and impatient hands of men they became obstacles and weeds. Death, which must ever have existed as a form of dissolution, a passing from one state to another, became a curse; the sting of death was sin--unchanged in itself, it changed in man. A dark, heavy cloud, rested on it--the shadow of his own guilty heart. Hence too, we understand the Millennium. The Bible says that these things are not to be for ever. There are glorious things to come. Just as in my former illustration, the alteration of the eye called new worlds into being, so now nothing more is needed than to re-create the soul--the mirror on which all things are reflected. Then is realized the prophecy of Isaiah, "Behold, I create all things new," "new heavens and a new earth." The conclusion of this verse proves to us why all these new creations were called into being--"wherein dwelleth righteousness." To be righteous makes all things new. We do not want a new world, we want _new hearts_. Let the Spirit of God purify society, and to the pure all things will be pure. The earth will put off the look of weariness and gloom which it has worn so long, and then the glorious language of the prophets will be fulfilled--"The forests will break out with singing, and the desert will blossom as the rose." XI. _Preached February 9, 1851._ UNITY AND PEACE. "And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful."--Colossians iii. 15. There is something in these words that might surprise us. It might surprise us to find that peace is urged on us as a duty. There can be no duty except where there is a matter of obedience; and it might seem to us that peace is a something over which we have no power. It is a privilege to have peace, but it would appear as if there were no power of control within the mind of a man able to ensure that peace for itself. "Yet," says the apostle, "let the peace of God rule in your hearts." It would seem to _us_ as if peace were as far beyond our own control as happiness. Unquestionably, we are not masters on our own responsibility of our own happiness. Happiness is the gratification of every innocent desire; but it is not given to us to ensure the gratification of every desire; therefore, happiness is not a duty, and it is nowhere written in the Scripture, "You must be happy." But we find it written by the apostle Paul, "Be ye thankful," implying therefore, that peace is a duty. The apostle says, "Let the peace of God rule in your hearts;" from which we infer that peace is attainable, and within the reach of our own wills; that if there be not repose there is blame; if there be not peace but discord in the heart, there is something wrong. This is the more surprising when we remember the circumstances under which these words were written. They were written from Rome, where the apostle lay in prison, daily and hourly expecting a violent death. They were written in days of persecution, when false doctrines were rife, and religious animosities fierce; they were written in an epistle abounding with the most earnest and eager controversy, whereby it is therefore implied, that according to the conception of the Apostle Paul, it is possible for a Christian to live at the very point of death, and in the very midst of danger--that it is possible for him to be breathing the atmosphere of religious controversy--it is possible for him to be surrounded by bitterness, and even take up the pen of controversy himself--and yet his soul shall not lose its own deep peace, nor the power of the infinite repose and rest of God. Joined with the apostle's command to be at peace, we find another doctrine, the doctrine of the unity of the Church of Christ. "To the which ye are called in one body," in order that ye may be at peace; in other words, the unity of the Church of Christ is the basis on which, and on which alone, can be built the possibility of the inward peace of individuals. And thus, my Christian brethren, our subject divides itself into these two simple branches: in the first place, the unity of the Church of Christ; in the second place, the inward peace of the members of that Church. The first subject then, which we have to consider, is the Unity of the Church of Christ. And the first thing we have to do is both clearly to define and understand the meaning of that word "unity." I distinguish the unity of comprehensiveness from the unity of mere singularity. The word one, as oneness, is an ambiguous word. There is a oneness belonging to the army as well as to every soldier in the army. The army is one, and that is the oneness of unity; the soldier is one, but that is the oneness of the unit. There is a difference between the oneness of a body and the oneness of a member of that body. The body is many, and a unity of manifold comprehensiveness. An arm or a member of a body is one, but that is the unity of singularity. Without unity my Christian brethren, peace must be impossible. There can be no peace in the one single soldier of an army. You do not speak of the harmony of one member of a body. There is peace in an army, or in a kingdom joined with other kingdoms; there is harmony in a member united with other members. There is no peace in a unit, there is no possibility of the harmony of that which is but one in itself. In order to have peace you must have a higher unity, and therein consists the unity of God's own Being. The unity of God is the basis of the peace of God--meaning by the unity of God the comprehensive manifoldness of God, and not merely the singularity in the number of God's Being. When the Unitarian speaks of God as one, he means simply singularity of number. We mean that He is of manifold comprehensiveness--that there is unity between His various powers. Amongst the personalities or powers of His Being there is no discord, but perfect harmony, entire union; and that brethren, is repose, the blessedness of infinite rest, that belongs to the unity of God--"I and my Father are one." The second thing which we observe respecting this unity, is that it subsists between things not similar or alike, but things dissimilar or unlike. There is no unity in the separate atoms of a sand-pit; they are things similar; there is an aggregate or collection of them. Even if they be hardened in a mass they are not one, they do not form a unity: they are simply a mass. There is no unity in a flock of sheep: it is simply a repetition of a number of things similar to each other. If you strike off from a thousand five hundred, or if you strike off nine hundred, there is nothing lost of unity, because there never was unity. A flock of one thousand or a flock of five is just as much a flock as any other number. On the other hand, let us turn to the unity of peace which the apostle speaks of, and we find it is something different; it is made up of dissimilar members, without which dissimilarity there could be no unity. Each is imperfect in itself, each supplying what it has in itself to the deficiencies and wants of the other members. So, if you strike off from this body any one member, if you cut off an arm, or tear out an eye, instantly the unity is destroyed; you have no longer an entire and perfect body, there is nothing but a remnant of the whole, a part, a portion; no unity whatever. This will help us to understand the unity of the Church of Christ. If the ages and the centuries of the Church of Christ, if the different Churches whereof it was composed, if the different members of each Church, were similar--one in this, that they all held the same views, all spoke the same words, all viewed truth from the same side, they would have no unity; but would simply be an aggregate of atoms, the sand-pit over again--units, multiplied it may be to infinity, but you would have no real unity, and therefore, no peace. No unity,--for wherein consists the unity of the Church of Christ? The unity of ages, brethren, consists it in this--that every age is merely the repetition of another age, and that which is held in one is held in another? Precisely in the same way, that is _not_ the unity of the ages of the Christian Church. Every century and every age has held a different truth, has put forth different fragments of the truth. In early ages for example, by martyrdom was proclaimed the eternal sanctity of truth, rather than give up which a man must lose his life.... In our own age it is quite plain those are not the themes which engage us, or the truths which we put in force now. This age, by its revolutions, its socialisms, proclaims another truth--the brotherhood of the Church of Christ; so that the unity of ages subsists on the same principle as that of the unity of the human body: and just as every separate ray--the violet, the blue, and the orange--make up the white ray, so these manifold fragments of truth blended together make up the one entire and perfect white ray of Truth. And with regard to individuals, taking the case of the Reformation, it was given to one Church to proclaim that salvation is a thing received, and not local; to another to proclaim justification by faith; to another the sovereignty of God; to another the supremacy of the Scriptures; to another the right of private judgment, the duty of the individual conscience. Unite these all, and then you have the Reformation one--one in spite of manifoldness; those very varieties by which they have approached this proving them to be one. Disjoint them and then you have some miserable sect--Calvinism, or Unitarianism; the unity has dispersed. And so again with the unity of the Churches. Whereby would we produce unity? Would we force on other Churches our Anglicanism? Would we have our thirty-nine articles, our creeds, our prayers, our rules and regulations, accepted by every Church throughout the world? If that were unity, then in consistency you are bound to demand that in God's world there shall be but one colour instead of the manifold harmony and accordance of which this universe is full; that there should be but one chaunted note--the one which we conceive most beautiful. This is not the unity of the Church of God. The various Churches advance different doctrines and truths. The Church of Germany something different from those of the Church of England. The Church of Rome, even in its idolatry, proclaims truths which we would be glad to seize. By the worship of the Virgin, the purity of women; by the rigour of ecclesiastical ordinances, the sanctity and permanence of eternal order; by the very priesthood itself, the necessity of the guidance of man by man. Nay, even the dissenting bodies themselves--mere atoms of aggregates as they are--stand forward and proclaim at least this truth, the separateness of the individual conscience, the right of independence. Peace subsists not between things exactly alike. We do not speak of peace in a single country. We say peace subsists between different countries where war _might_ be. There can be no _peace_ between two men who agree in everything; peace subsists between those who differ. There is no peace between Baptist and Baptist; so far as they are Baptists, there is perfect accordance and agreement. There may be peace between you and the Romanist, the Jew, or the Dissenter, because there are angles of sharpness which might come into collision if they were not subdued and softened by the power of love. It was given to the Apostle Paul to discern that this was the ground of unity. In the Church of Christ he saw men with different views, and he said So far from that variety destroying unity, it was the only ground of unity. There are many doctrines, all of them different, but let those varieties be blended together--in other words, let there be the peace of love, and then you will have unity. Once more this unity, whereof the apostle speaks, consists in submission to one single influence or spirit. Wherein consists the unity of the body? Consists it not in this,--that there is one life uniting, making all the separate members one? Take away the life, and the members fall to pieces: they are no longer one; decomposition begins, and every element separates, no longer having any principle of cohesion or union with the rest. There is not one of us who, at some time or other, has not been struck with the power there is in a single living influence. Have we never for instance, felt the power wherewith the orator unites and holds together a thousand men as if they were but one; with flashing eyes and throbbing hearts, all attentive to his words, and by the difference of their attitudes, by the variety of the expressions of their countenances testifying to the unity of that single living feeling with which he had inspired them? Whether it be indignation, whether it be compassion, or whether it be enthusiasm, that one living influence made the thousand for the time, one. Have we not heard how, even in this century in which we live, the various and conflicting feelings of the people of this country were concentrated into one, when the threat of foreign invasion had fused down and broken the edges of conflict and variance, and from shore to shore was heard one cry of terrible defiance, and the different classes and orders of this manifold and mighty England were as one? Have we not heard how the mighty winds hold together, as if one, the various atoms of the desert, so that they rush like a living thing, across the wilderness? And this, brethren, is the unity of the Church of Christ, the subjection to the one uniting spirit of its God. It will be said, in reply to this, "Why this is mere enthusiasm. It may be very beautiful in theory, but it is impossible in practice. It is mere enthusiasm to believe, that while all these varieties of conflicting opinion remain, we can have unity; it is mere enthusiasm to think that so long as men's minds reckon on a thing like unity, there can be a thing like oneness." And our reply is, Give us the Spirit of God, and we shall be one. You cannot produce a unity by all the rigour of your ecclesiastical discipline. You cannot produce a unity by consenting in some form of expression such as this, "Let us agree to differ." You cannot produce a unity by Parliamentary regulations or enactments, bidding back the waves of what is called aggression. Give us the living Spirit of God, and we shall be one. Once on this earth was exhibited, as it were, a specimen of perfect anticipation of such an unity, when the "rushing mighty wind" of Pentecost came down in the tongues of fire and sat on every man; when the Parthians, and Medes, and Elamites, and the dwellers in Mesopotamia, the "Cretes and Arabians," the Jew and the Gentile, each speaking one language, yet blended and fused into one unity by enthusiastic love, heard one another speak as it were, in one language, the manifold works of God; when the spirit of giving was substituted for the spirit of mere rivalry and competition, and no man said the things he had were his own, but all shared in common. Let that spirit come again, as come it will, and come it must; and then, beneath the influences of a mightier love, we shall have a nobler and a more real unity. We pass on now, in the second place, to consider the _individual peace_ resulting from this unity. As we have endeavoured to explain what is meant by unity, so now, let us endeavour to understand what is meant by peace. Peace then, is the opposite of passion, and of labour, toil, and effort. Peace is that state in which there are no desires madly demanding an impossible gratification; that state in which there is no misery, no remorse, no sting. And there are but three things which can break that peace. The first is discord between the mind of man and the lot which he is called on to inherit; the second is discord between the affections and powers of the soul; and the third is doubt of the rectitude, and justice, and love, wherewith this world is ordered. But where these things exist not, where a man is contented with his lot, where the flesh is subdued to the spirit, and where he believes and feels with all his heart that all is right, there is peace, and to this says the apostle, "ye are called,"--the grand, peculiar call of Christianity,--the call, "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." This was the dying bequest of Christ: "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth give I unto you:" and therein lies one of the greatest truths of the blessed and eternal character of Christianity, that it applies to, and satisfies the very deepest want and craving of our nature. The deepest want of man is not a desire for happiness, but a craving for peace; not a wish for the gratification of every desire, but a craving for the repose of acquiescence in the will of God; and it is this which Christianity promises. Christianity does not promise happiness, but it does promise peace. "In the world ye shall have tribulation," saith our Master, "but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." Now, let us look more closely, into this peace. The first thing we see respecting it is, that it is called God's peace. God is rest: the infinite nature of God is infinite repose. The "_I am_" of God is contrasted with the _I am become_ of all other things. Everything else is in a state of _becoming_, God is in a state of _Being_. The acorn has become the plant, and the plant has become the oak. The child has become the man, and the man has become good, or wise, or whatever else it may be. God ever _is_; and I pray you once more to observe, that this peace of God, this eternal rest in the Almighty Being, arises out of His unity. Not because He is an unit, but because He is an unity. There is no discord between the powers and attributes of the mind of God; there is no discord between His justice and His love; there is no discord demanding some miserable expedient to unite them together, such as some theologians imagined when they described the sacrifice and atonement of our Redeemer by saying, it is the clever expedient whereby God reconciles His justice with His love. God's justice and love are one. Infinite justice must be infinite love. Justice is but another sign of love. The infinite rest of the "_I am_" of God arises out of the harmony of His attributes. The next thing we observe respecting this divine peace which has come down to man on earth is, that it is a _living peace_. Brethren, let us distinguish. There are several things called peace which are by no means divine or Godlike peace. There is peace, for example, in the man who lives for and enjoys self, with no nobler aspiration goading him on to make him feel the rest of God; that is peace, but that is merely the peace of toil. There is rest on the surface of the caverned lake, which no wind can stir; but that is the peace of stagnation. There is peace amongst the stones which have fallen and rolled down the mountain's side, and lie there quietly at rest; but that is the peace of inanity. There is peace in the hearts of enemies who lie together, side by side, in the same trench of the battle-field, the animosities of their souls silenced at length, and their hands no longer clenched in deadly enmity against each other; but that is the peace of death. If our peace be but the peace of the sensualist satisfying pleasure, if it be but the peace of mental torpor and inaction, the peace of apathy, or the peace of the soul dead in trespasses and sins, we may whisper to ourselves, "Peace, peace," but there will be no peace; _there_ is not the peace of unity nor the peace of God, for the peace of God is the living peace of love. The next thing we observe respecting this peace is, that it is the manifestation of power--it is the peace which comes from an inward power: "Let the peace of God," says the Apostle, "rule within your hearts." For it is a power, the manifestation of strength. There is no peace except there is the possibility of the opposite of peace although now restrained and controlled. You do not speak of the peace of a grain of sand, because it cannot be otherwise than merely insignificant, and at rest. You do not speak of the peace of a mere pond; you speak of the peace of the sea, because there is the opposite of peace implied, there is power and strength. And this brethren, is the real character of the peace in the mind and soul of man. Oh! we make a great mistake when we say there is strength in passion, in the exhibition of emotion. Passion, and emotion, and all those outward manifestations, prove, not strength, but weakness. If the passions of a man are strong, it proves the man himself is weak, if he cannot restrain or control his passions. The real strength and majesty of the soul of man is calmness, the manifestation of strength; "the peace of God" ruling; the word of Christ saying to the inward storms "Peace!" and there is "a great calm." Lastly, the peace of which the apostle speaks is the peace that is received--the peace of reception. You will observe, throughout this passage the apostle speaks of a something received, and not done: "Let the peace of God rule in your hearts." It is throughout receptive, but by no means inactive. And according to this, there are two kinds of peace; the peace of obedience--"Let the peace of God rule" you--and there is the peace of gratefulness--"Be ye thankful." Very great, brethren, is the peace of obedience: when a man has his lot fixed, and his mind made up, and he sees his destiny before him, and quietly acquiesces in it; his spirit is at rest. Great and deep is the peace of the soldier to whom has been assigned even an untenable position, with the command, "Keep that, even if you die," and he obediently remains to die. Great was the peace of Elisha--very, very calm are those words by which he expressed his acquiescence in the divine will. "Knowest thou," said the troubled, excited, and restless men around him--"Knowest thou that the Lord will take away thy master from thy head to-day?" He answered, "Yea, I know it; hold ye your peace." Then there is the other peace, it is the peace of gratefulness: "Be ye thankful." It is that peace which the Israelites had when these words were spoken to them on the shores of the Red Sea, while the bodies of their enemies floated past them, destroyed, but not by them: "Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord." And here brethren, is another mistake of ours: we look on salvation as a thing to be done, and not received. In God's salvation we can do but little, but there is a great deal to be received. We are here, not merely to act, but to be acted upon. "Let the peace of God rule in your hearts;" there is a peace that will enter there, if you do not thwart it; there is a Spirit that will take possession of your soul, provided that you do not quench it. In this world we are recipients, not creators. In obedience and in gratefulness, and the infinite peace of God in the soul of man, is alone to be found deep calm repose. XII. _Preached January 4, 1852._ THE CHRISTIAN AIM AND MOTIVE. "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect."--Matthew v. 48. There are two erroneous views held respecting the character of the Sermon on the Mount. The first may be called an error of worldly-minded men, the other an error of mistaken religionists. Worldly-minded men--men that is, in whom the devotional feeling is but feeble--are accustomed to look upon morality as the whole of religion; and they suppose that the Sermon on the Mount was designed only to explain and enforce correct principles of morality. It tells of human duties and human proprieties, and an attention to these, they maintain, is the only religion which is required by it. Strange my Christian brethren, that men, whose lives are least remarkable for superhuman excellence, should be the very men to refer most frequently to those sublime comments on Christian principle, and should so confidently conclude from thence, that themselves are right and all others are wrong. Yet so it is. The other is an error of mistaken religionists. They sometimes regard the Sermon on the Mount as if it were a collection of moral precepts, and consequently, strictly speaking, not Christianity at all. To them it seems as if the chief value, the chief intention of the discourse, was to show the breadth and spirituality of the requirements of the law of Moses--its chief religious significance, to show the utter impossibility of fulfilling the law, and thus to lead to the necessary inference that justification must be by faith alone. And so they would not scruple to assert that, in the highest sense of that term, it is not Christianity at all, but only preparatory to it--a kind of spiritual Judaism; and that the higher and more developed principles of Christianity are to be found in the writings of the apostles. Before we proceed further, we would remark here that it seems extremely startling to say that He who came to this world expressly to preach the Gospel, should, in the most elaborate of all His discourses, omit to do so: it is indeed something more than startling, it is absolutely revolting to suppose that the letters of those who spoke _of_ Christ, should contain a more perfectly-developed, a freer and fuller Christianity than is to be found in Christ's own words. Now you will observe that these two parties, so opposed to each other in their general religious views, are agreed in this--that the Sermon on the Mount is nothing but morality. The man of the world says--"It is morality only, and that is the whole of religion." The mistaken religionist says--"It is morality only, not the entire essence of Christianity." In opposition to both these views, we maintain that the Sermon on the Mount contains the sum and substance of Christianity--the very chief matter of the gospel of our Redeemer. It is not, you will observe, a pure and spiritualized Judaism; it is contrasted with Judaism again and again by Him who spoke it. Quoting the words of Moses, he affirmed, "So was it spoken by them of old time, but _I say unto you_--" For example, "Thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths." That is Judaism. "But I say unto you swear not at all, but let your yea be yea, and your nay nay." That is Christianity. And that which is the essential peculiarity of this Christianity lies in these two things. First of all, that the morality which it teaches is _disinterested_ goodness--goodness not for the sake of the blessing that follows it, but for its own sake, and because it is right. "Love your enemies," is the Gospel precept. Why?--Because if you love them you shall be blessed; and if you do not cursed? No; but "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of"--that is, may be like--"your Father which is in Heaven." The second essential peculiarity of Christianity--and this, too, is an essential peculiarity of this Sermon--is, that it teaches and enforces the law of self-sacrifice. "If thy right eye offend thee pluck it out; if thy right hand offend thee cut it off." This, brethren, is the law of self-sacrifice--the very law and spirit of the blessed cross of Christ. How deeply and essentially Christian, then, this Sermon on the Mount is, we shall understand if we are enabled in any measure to reach the meaning and spirit of the single passage which I have taken as my text. It tells two things--the Christian aim and the Christian motive. 1st. The Christian aim--perfection. 2nd. The Christian motive--because it is right and Godlike to be perfect. I. The Christian aim is this--to be perfect. "Be ye therefore perfect." Now distinguish this, I pray you, from mere worldly morality. It is not conformity to a creed that is here required, but aspiration after a _state_. It is not demanded of us to perform a number of duties, but to yield obedience to a certain spiritual law. But let us endeavour to explain this more fully. What is the meaning of this expression, "Be ye perfect?" Why is it that in this discourse, instead of being commanded to perform religious duties, we are commanded to think of being like God? Will not that inflame our pride, and increase our natural vainglory? Now the nature and possibility of human perfection, what it is and how it is possible, are both contained in one single expression in the text. "Even as your Father which is in Heaven is perfect." The relationship between father and son implies consanguinity, likeness, similarity of character and nature. God _made_ the insect, the stone, the lily; but God is not the Father of the caterpillar, the lily, or the stone. When therefore, God is said to be our Father, something more is implied in this than that God created man. And so when the Son of Man came proclaiming the fact that we are the children of God, it was in the truest sense a revelation. He told us that the nature of God resembles the nature of man, that love in God is not a mere figure of speech, but means the same thing as love in us, and that divine anger is the same thing as human anger divested of its emotions and imperfections. When we are commanded to be like God, it implies that God has that nature of which we have already the germs. And this has been taught by the incarnation of the Redeemer. Things absolutely dissimilar in their nature cannot mingle. Water cannot coalesce with fire--water cannot mix with oil. If, then, Humanity and Divinity were united in the person of the Redeemer, it follows that there must be something kindred between the two, or else the incarnation had been impossible. So that the incarnation is the realization of man's perfection. But let us examine more deeply this assertion, that _our_ nature is kindred with that of God--for if man has not a nature kindred to God's, then a demand such as that, "Be ye the children of"--that is, like--"God," is but a mockery of man. We say then, in the first place, that in the truest sense of the word man can be a creator. The beaver _makes_ its hole, the bee _makes_ its cell; man alone has the power of _creating_. The mason _makes_, the architect _creates_. In the same sense that we say God created the universe, we say that man is also a creator. The creation of the universe was the Eternal Thought taking reality. And thought taking expression is also a creation. Whenever therefore, there is a living thought shaping itself in word or in stone, there is there a creation. And therefore it is, that the simplest effort of what we call genius is prized infinitely more than the most elaborate performances which are done by mere workmanship, and for this reason: that the one is produced by an effort of power which we share with the beaver and the bee, that of _making_, and the other by a faculty and power which man alone shares with God. Here however, you will observe another difficulty. It will be said at once--there is something in this comparison of man with God which looks like blasphemy, because one is finite and the other infinite--man is bounded, God boundless; and to speak of resemblance and kindred between these two, is to speak of resemblance and kindred between two natures essentially different. But this is precisely the argument which is brought by the Socinians against the doctrine of the incarnation; and we are bound to add that the Socinian argument is right, unless there be the similarity of which we have been speaking. Unless there be something in man's nature which truly and properly partakes of the divine nature, there could be no incarnation, and the demand for perfection would be a mockery and an impossibility. Let us then endeavour to find out the evidences of this infinitude in the nature of man. First of all we find it in this--that the desires of man are for something boundless and unattainable. Thus speaks our Lord--"What shall it profit a man if he should gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" Every schoolboy has heard the story of the youthful prince who enumerated one by one the countries he meant to conquer year after year; and when the enumeration was completed, was asked what he meant to do when all those victories were achieved, and he replied--to sit down, to be happy, to take his rest. But then came the ready rejoinder--Why not do so now? But it is not every schoolboy who has paused to consider the folly of the question. He who asked his son why he did not at once take the rest which it was his ultimate purpose to enjoy, knew not the immensity and nobility of the human soul. He could not _then_ take his rest and be happy. As long as one realm remained unconquered, so long rest was impossible; he would weep for fresh worlds to conquer. And thus, that which was spoken by our Lord of one earthly gratification, is true of all--"Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again." The boundless, endless, infinite void in the soul of man can be satisfied with nothing but God. Satisfaction lies not in _having_, but in _being_. There is no satisfaction even in _doing_. Man cannot be satisfied with his own performances. When the righteous young ruler came to Christ, and declared that in reference to the life gone by, he had kept all the commandments and fulfilled all the duties required by the Law, still came the question--"What lack I yet?" The Scribes and Pharisees were the strictest observers of the ceremonies of the Jewish religion, "touching the righteousness which is by the Law" they were blameless, but yet they wanted something more than that, and they were found on the brink of Jordan imploring the baptism of John, seeking after a new and higher state than they had yet attained to,--a significant proof that man cannot be satisfied with his own works. And again, there is not one of us who has ever been satisfied with his own performances. There is no man whose doings are worth anything, who has not felt that he has not yet done that which he feels himself able to do. While he was doing it, he was kept up by the spirit of hope; but when done the thing seemed to him worthless. And therefore it is that the author cannot read his own book again, nor the sculptor look with pleasure upon his finished work. With respect to one of the greatest of all modern sculptors, we are told that he longed for the termination of his earthly career, for this reason--that he had been satisfied with his own performance: satisfied for the first time in his life. And this expression of his satisfaction was but equivalent to saying that he had reached the goal, beyond which there could be no progress. This impossibility of being satisfied with his own performances is one of the strongest proofs of our immortality--a proof of that perfection towards which we shall for ever tend, but which we can never attain. A second trace of this infinitude in man's nature we find in the infinite capacities of the soul. This is true intellectually and morally. With reference to our intellectual capacities, it would perhaps be more strictly correct to say that they are indefinite, rather than infinite; that is we can affix to them no limit. For there is no man, however low his intellectual powers may be, who has not at one time or another felt a rush of thought, a glow of inspiration, which seemed to make all things possible, as if it were merely the effect of some imperfect organization which stood in the way of his doing whatever he desired to do. With respect to our moral and spiritual capacities, we remark that they are not only indefinite, but absolutely infinite. Let that man answer who has ever truly and heartily loved another. That man knows what it is to partake of the infinitude of God. Literally, in the emphatic language of the Apostle John, he has felt his immortality--"God in him and he in God." For that moment, infinitude was to him not a name, but a reality. He entered into the infinite of time and space, which is not measured by days, or months, or years, but is alike boundless and eternal. Again, we perceive a third trace of this infinitude in man, in the power which he possesses of giving up self. In this, perhaps more than in anything else, man may claim kindred with God. Nor is this power confined to the best of mankind, but is possessed, to some extent at least, by all. There is no man, how low soever he may be, who has not one or two causes or secrets, which no earthly consideration would induce him to betray. There is no man who does not feel towards one or two at least, in this world, a devotion which all the bribes of the universe would not be able to shake. We have heard the story of that degraded criminal who, when sentence of death was passed upon him, turned to his accomplice in guilt, in whose favour a verdict of acquittal was brought in, and in glorious self-forgetfulness exclaimed--"Thank God, _you_ are saved!" The savage and barbarous Indian whose life has been one unbroken series of cruelty and crime, will submit to a slow, lingering, torturing death, rather than betray his country. Now, what shall we say to these things? Do they not tell of an indestructible something in the nature of man, of which the origin is divine?--the remains of a majesty which, though it may be sullied, can never be entirely lost? Before passing on let us observe, that were it not for this conviction of the divine origin, and consequent perfectibility of our nature, the very thought of God would be painful to us. God is so great, so glorious, that the mind is overwhelmed by, and shrinks from, the contemplation of His excellence, unless there comes the tender, ennobling thought that we are the children of God, who are to become like our Father in Heaven, whose blessed career it is to go on in an advance of love and duty towards Him, until we love Him as we are loved, and know Him almost as we are known. II. We pass on, in the second place, to consider the Christian motive--"Even as your Father which is in Heaven is perfect." Brethren, worldly prudence, miscalled morality, says--"Be honest; you will find your gain in being so. Do right; you will be the better for it--even in this world you will not lose by it." The mistaken religionist only magnifies this on a large scale. "Your duty," he says, "is to save your soul. Give up this world to have the next. Lose _here_, that you may gain _hereafter_." Now this is but prudence after all--it is but magnified selfishness, carried on into eternity,--none the more noble for being _eternal_ selfishness. In opposition to all such sentiments as these, thus speaks the Gospel--"Be ye perfect." Why? "Because your Father which is in Heaven is perfect." Do right, because it is Godlike and right so to do. Here however, let us be understood. We do not mean to say that the Gospel ignores altogether the personal results of doing right. This would be unnatural--because God has linked together well-doing and blessedness. But we do say that this blessedness is not the motive which the Gospel gives us. It is true the Gospel says--"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth; blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy; blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled." But when these are made our motives--when we become meek in order that we may inherit here--then the promised enjoyment will not come. If we are merciful merely that we may ourselves obtain mercy, we shall not have that in-dwelling love of God which is the result and token of His forgiveness. Such was the law and such the example of our Lord and Master. True it is that in the prosecution of the great work of redemption He had "respect to the recompense of reward." True it is He was conscious--how could He but be conscious--that when His work was completed He should be "glorified with that glory which He had with the Father before the world began;" but we deny that this was the _motive_ which induced Him to undertake that work; and that man has a very mistaken idea of the character of the Redeemer, and understands but little of His spirit, who has so mean an opinion of Him as to suppose that it was any consideration of personal happiness and blessedness which led the Son of God to die. "For this end was He born, and for this end came He into the world to bear witness unto the Truth," and "to finish the work which was given Him to do." If we were asked, Can you select one text in which more than in any other this unselfish, disinterested feature comes forth, it should be this, "Love ye your enemies, do good and lend, hoping for nothing again." This is the true spirit of Christianity--doing right disinterestedly, not from the hope of any personal advantage or reward, either temporal or spiritual, but entirely forgetting self, "hoping for nothing again." When that glorious philanthropist, whose whole life had been spent in procuring the abolition of the slave-trade, was demanded of by some systematic theologian, whether in his ardour in this great cause he had not been neglecting his personal prospects, and endangering his own soul, this was his magnanimous reply--one of those which show the light of truth breaking through like an inspiration. He said, "I did not think about my own soul, I had no time to think about myself, I had forgotten all about my soul." The Christian is not concerned about his own happiness; he has not time to consider himself; he has not time to put that selfish question which the disciples put to their Lord, when they were but half baptized with His spirit, "Lo, we have left all and followed Thee, what shall we have therefore?" In conclusion we observe, there are two things which are to be learned from this passage. The first is this, that happiness is not our end and aim. It has been said, and has since been repeated as frequently as if it were an indisputable axiom, that "Happiness is our being's end and aim." Brethren, happiness is _not_ our being's end and aim. The Christian's aim is perfection, not happiness, and every one of the sons of God must have something of that spirit which marked their Master; that holy sadness, that peculiar unrest, that high and lofty melancholy which belongs to a spirit which strives after heights to which it can never attain. The second thing we have to learn is this, that on this earth there can be no rest for man. By rest we mean the attainment of a state beyond which there can be no change. Politically, morally, spiritually, there can be no rest for man here. In one country alone has that system been fully carried out which, conservative of the past, excludes all desire of progress and improvement for the future: but it is not to China that we should look for the perfection of human society. There is one ecclesiastical system which carries out the same spirit, looking rather to the Church of the past than to the Church of the future; but it is not in the Romish that we shall find the model of a Christian Church. In Paradise it may have been right to be at rest, to desire no change, but ever since the Fall every system that tends to check the onward progress of mankind is fatally, radically, curelessly wrong. The motto on every Christian banner is "Forwards." There is no resting in the present, no satisfaction in the past. The last thing we learn from this is the impossibility of obtaining that of which some men speak--the satisfaction of a good conscience. Some men write and speak as if the difference between the Christian and the worldly man was this, that in the one conscience is a self-reproaching hell, and in the other a self-congratulating heaven. Oh, brethren, is this the fact? Think you that the Christian goes home at night counting up the noble deeds done during the day, saying to himself, "Well done, good and faithful servant?" Brethren, that habit of looking forwards to the future prevents all pride and self-righteousness, and makes our best and only rest and satisfaction to consist in contemplating the future which is bringing us nearer and nearer home. Our motto, therefore, must be that striking one of the Apostle Paul, "Forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth to those things which are before, I press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." XIII. _Preached January 4, 1852._ CHRISTIAN CASUISTRY. "Is any man called being circumcised? let him not become uncircumcised. Is any called in uncircumcision? let him not be circumcised. Circumcision is nothing, and uncircumcision is nothing, but the keeping of the commandments of God. Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called. Art thou called being a servant? care not for it: but if thou mayest be made free use it rather. For he that is called in the Lord, being a servant, is the Lord's freeman; likewise also he that is called being free, is Christ's servant. Ye are bought with a price; be not ye the servants of men. Brethren, let every man wherein he is called therein abide with God."--1 Corinthians, vii. 18-24. The whole of these seven chapters of the First Epistle of the Apostle Paul to the Corinthians, is occupied with questions of Christian casuistry. In the application of the principles of Christianity to the varying circumstances of life, innumerable difficulties had arisen, and the Corinthians upon these difficulties had put certain questions to the Apostle Paul. This seventh chapter contains the apostle's answer to many of these questions. There are however, two great divisions into which these answers generally fall. St. Paul makes a distinction between those things which he speaks by commandment and those which he speaks only by permission; there is a distinction between what he says as from the Lord, and what only from himself; between that which he speaks to them as being taught of God, and that which he speaks only as a servant, "called of the Lord and faithful." It is manifestly plain that there are many questions in which _right_ and _wrong_ are not variable, but indissoluble and fixed; while there are questions, on the other hand, where these terms are not fixed, but variable, fluctuating, altering, dependent upon circumstances. As, for instance, those in which the apostle teaches in the present chapter the several duties and advantages of marriage and celibacy. There may be circumstances in which it is the duty of a Christian man to be married, there are others in which it may be his duty to remain unmarried. For instance, in the case of a missionary it may be right to be married rather than unmarried; on the other hand, in the case of a pauper, not having the wherewithal to bring up and maintain a family, it may be proper to remain unmarried. You will observe however, that no fixed law can be laid down upon this subject. We cannot say marriage is a Christian duty, nor celibacy is a Christian duty; nor that it is in every case the duty of a missionary to be married, or of a pauper to be unmarried. All these things must vary according to circumstances, and the duty must be stated not universally, but with reference to those circumstances. These therefore, are questions of casuistry, which depend upon the particular _case_: from which word the term "casuistry" is derived. On these points the apostle speaks not by commandment, but by permission; not as speaking by God's command, but as having the Spirit of God. A distinction has sometimes been drawn with reference to this chapter between that which the apostle speaks by inspiration, and what he speaks as a man uninspired. The distinction, however, is an altogether false one, and beside the question. For the real distinction is not between inspired and uninspired, but between a _decision_ in matters of Christian duty, and _advice_ in matters of Christian prudence. It is abundantly evident that God cannot give advice; He can only issue a command. God cannot say, "It is better to do this;" His perfections demand something absolute: "Thou shalt _do_ this; thou shalt _not_ do this." Whensoever therefore, we come to advice there is introduced the human element rather than the divine. In all such cases therefore, as are dependent upon circumstances the apostle speaks not as inspired, but as uninspired; as one whose judgment we have no right to find fault with or to cavil at, who lays down what is a matter of Christian prudence, and not a bounden and universal duty. The matter of the present discourse will take in various verses in this chapter--from the tenth to the twenty-fourth verse--leaving part of the commencement and the conclusion for our consideration, if God permit, next Sunday. There are three main questions on which the apostle here gives his inspired decision. The first decision is concerning the sanctity of the marriage-bond between two Christians. His verdict is given in the tenth verse: "Unto the married I command, yet not I, but the Lord, Let not the wife depart from her husband." He lays down this principle, that the union is an indissoluble one. Upon such a subject, Christian brethren, before a mixed congregation, it is manifestly evident that we can only speak in general terms. It will be sufficient to say that marriage is of all earthly unions almost the only one permitting of no change but that of death. It is that engagement in which man exerts his most awful and solemn power,--the power of responsibility which belongs to him as one that shall give account,--the power of abnegating the right to change,--the power of parting with his freedom,--the power of doing _that_ which in this world can never be reversed. And yet it is perhaps that relationship which is spoken of most frivolously, and entered into most carelessly and most wantonly. It is not an union merely between two creatures, it is an union between two spirits; and the intention of that bond is to perfect the nature of both, by supplementing their deficiencies with the force of contrast, giving to each sex those excellencies in which it is naturally deficient; to the one strength of character and firmness of moral will, to the other sympathy, meekness, tenderness. And just so solemn, and just so glorious as these ends are for which the union was contemplated and intended, just so terrible are the consequences if it be perverted and abused. For there is no earthly relationship which has so much power to ennoble and to exalt. Very strong language does the apostle use in this chapter respecting it: "What knoweth thou, O wife, whether thou shalt _save_ thy husband? or how knowest thou, O man, whether thou shalt save thy wife?" The very power of _saving_ belongs to this relationship. And on the other hand, there is no earthly relationship which has so much power to wreck and ruin the soul. For there are two rocks in this world of ours on which the soul must either anchor or be wrecked. The one is God; the other is the sex opposite to itself. The one is the "Rock of Ages," on which if the human soul anchors it lives the blessed life of faith; against which if the soul be dashed and broken, there ensues the wreck of Atheism--the worst ruin of the soul. The other rock is of another character. Blessed is the man, blessed is the woman whose life-experience has taught a confiding belief in the excellencies of the sex opposite to their own--a blessedness second only to the blessedness of salvation. And the ruin in the other case is second only to the ruin of everlasting perdition--the same wreck and ruin of the soul. These then, are the two tremendous alternatives: on the one hand the possibility of securing, in all sympathy and tenderness, the laying of that step on which man rises towards his perfection; on the other hand the blight of all sympathy, to be dragged down to earth, and forced to become frivolous and common-place; to lose all zest and earnestness in life, to have heart and life degraded by mean and perpetually-recurring sources of disagreement; these are the two alternatives, and it is the worst of these alternatives which the young risk when they form an inconsiderate union, excusably indeed--because through inexperience; and it is the worst of these alternatives which parents risk--not excusably but inexcusably--when they bring up their children with no higher view of what that tie is, than the merely prudential one of a rich and honourable marriage. The second decision which the apostle makes respecting another of the questions proposed to him by the Corinthians, is as to the sanctity of the marriage bond between a Christian and one who is a heathen. When Christianity first entered into our world, and was little understood, it seemed to threaten the dislocation and alteration of all existing relationships. Many difficulties arose; such for instance, as the one here started. When of two heathen parties only one was converted to Christianity, the question arose, What in this case is the duty of the Christian? Is not the duty separation? Is not the marriage in itself null and void? as if it were an union between one dead and one living? And that perpetual contact with a heathen, and therefore an enemy of God, is not that in a relation so close and intimate, perpetual defilement? The apostle decides this with his usual inspired wisdom. He decides that the marriage-bond is sacred still. Diversities of religious opinion, even the farthest and widest diversity, cannot sanction separation. And so he decides in the 13th verse, "The woman which hath an husband that believeth not, if he be pleased to dwell with her, let her not leave him." And, "if any brother hath a wife that believeth not, and she be pleased to dwell with him, let him not put her away," v. 12. Now for us in the present day, the decision on this point is not of so much importance as the reason which is adduced in support of it. The proof which the Apostle gives of the sanctity of the marriage is exceedingly remarkable. Practically it amounts to this;--If this were no marriage, but an unhallowed alliance, it would follow as a necessary consequence that the offspring could not be reckoned in any sense as the children of God; but, on the other hand, it is the instinctive, unwavering conviction of every Christian parent, united though he or she may be to a heathen, "My child is a child of God," or, in the Jewish form of expression, "My child is _clean_." So the apostle says, "the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the husband: else were your children unclean; but now they are holy," for it follows if the children are holy in this sense of dedicated to God, and are capable of Christian relationship, then the marriage relation was not unhallowed, but sacred and indissoluble. The value of this argument in the present day depends on its relation to baptism. The great question we are deciding in the present day may be reduced to a very few words. This question--the Baptismal question--is this:--whether we are baptized because we _are_ the children of God, or, whether we are the children of God because we are _baptized_; whether in other words, when the Catechism of the Church of England says that by baptism we are "made the children of God," we are to understand thereby that we are made something which we were not before--magically and mysteriously changed; or, whether we are to understand that we are made the children of God by baptism in the same sense that a sovereign is made a sovereign by coronation. Here the apostle's argument is full, decisive, and unanswerable. He does not say that these children were Christian, or clean, because they were _baptized_, but they were the children of God because they were the children of one Christian parent; nay more than that, such children could scarcely ever have been baptized, because, if the rite met with opposition from one of the parents, it would be an entire and perfect veto to the possibility of baptism. You will observe that the very fundamental idea out of which infant-baptism arises is, that the impression produced upon the mind and character of the child by the Christian parent, makes the child one of a Christian community; and, therefore, as Peter argued that Cornelius had received the Holy Ghost, and so was to be baptized, just in the same way, as they are adopted into the Christian family and receive a Christian impression, the children of Christian parents are also to be baptized. Observe also the important truth which comes out collaterally from this argument--namely, the sacredness of the impression, which arises from the close connection between parent and child. Stronger far than education--going on before education can commence, possibly from the very first moments of consciousness, we begin to impress ourselves on our children. Our character, voice, features, qualities--modified, no doubt, by entering into a new human being, and into a different organization--are impressed upon our children. Not the inculcation of opinions, but much rather the formation of principles, and of the tone of character, the derivation of qualities. Physiologists tell us of the derivation of the mental qualities from the father, and of the moral from the mother. But be this as it may, there is scarcely one here who cannot trace back his present religious character to some impression, in early life, from one or other of his parents--a tone, a look, a word, a habit, or even, it may be, a bitter, miserable exclamation of remorse. The third decision which the apostle gives, the third principle which he lays down, is but the development of the last. Christianity he says, does not interfere with existing relationships. First he lays down the principle, and then unfolds the principle in two ways, ecclesiastically and civilly. The principle he lays down in almost every variety of form. In the 17th verse, "As God hath distributed to every man, as the Lord hath called every one, so let him walk." In the 20th verse, "Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called." In the 24th verse, "Brethren, let every man wherein he is called therein abide with God." This is the principle. Christianity was not to interfere with existing relationships; Christian men were to remain in those relationships in which they were, and in them to develope the inward spirituality of the Christian life. Then he applies this principle in two ways. First of all, ecclesiastically. With respect to their church, or ecclesiastical affairs, he says--"Is any man called being circumcised? Let him not become uncircumcised. Is any man in uncircumcision? Let him not be circumcised." In other words, the Jews, after their conversion, were to continue Jews, if they would. Christianity required no change in these outward things, for it was not in _these_ that the depth and reality of the kingdom of Christ consisted. So the Apostle Paul took Timothy and circumcised him; so, also, he used all the Jewish customs with which he was familiar, and performed a vow, as related in the Acts of the Apostles, "having shorn his head in Cenchrea; for he had a vow." It was not his opinion that it was the duty of a Christian to overthrow the Jewish system. He knew that the Jewish system could not last, but what he wanted was to vitalize the system--to throw into it not a Jewish, but a Christian feeling; and so doing, he might continue in it so long as it would hold together. And so it was no doubt, with all the other apostles. We have no evidence that before the destruction of the Jewish polity, there was any attempt made by them to overthrow the Jewish external religion. They kept the Jewish Sabbath, and observed the Jewish ritual. One of them, James, the Christian Bishop of Jerusalem, though a Christian, was even among the Jews remarkable and honourable for the regularity with which he observed all his Jewish duties. Now let us apply this to modern duties. The great desire among men now, appears to be to alter institutions, to have perfect institutions, as if _they_ would make perfect men. Mark the difference between this feeling and that of the apostle, "Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called." We are called to be members of the Church of England--what is our duty now? What would Paul have done? Is this our duty--to put such questions to ourselves as these? "Is there any single, particular sentence in the service of my Church with which I do not entirely agree? Is there any single ceremony with which my whole soul does not go along? If so, then is it my duty to leave it at once?" No, my brethren, all that we have to do is to say, "All our existing institutions are those under which God has placed us, under which we are to mould our lives according to His will." It is our duty to vitalize our forms, to throw into them a holier, deeper meaning. My Christian brethren, surely no man will get true rest, true repose for his soul in these days of controversy, until he has learned the wise significance of these wise words--"Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called." He will but gain unrest, he will but disquiet himself, if he says, "I am sinning by continuing in this imperfect system," if he considers it his duty to change his calling if his opinions do not agree in every particular and special point with the system under which God has placed him. Lastly, the apostle applies this principle civilly. And you will observe he applies it to that civil relationship which of all others, was the most difficult to harmonize with Christianity--slavery. "Art thou called," he says, "being a servant? Care not for it." Now, in considering this part of the subject we should carry along with us these two recollections. First, we should recollect that Christianity had made much way among this particular class, the class of slaves. No wonder that men cursed with slavery embraced with joy a religion which was perpetually teaching the worth and dignity of the human soul, and declaring that rich and poor, peer and peasant, master and slave, were equal in the sight of God. And yet, great as this growth was, it contained within it elements of danger. It was to be feared, lest men, hearing for ever of brotherhood and Christian equality, should be tempted and excited to throw off the yoke by _force_, and compel their masters and oppressors to do them right. The other fact we are to keep in remembrance is this--that all this occurred in an age in which slavery had reached its worst and most fearful form, an age in which the emperors were accustomed, not unfrequently, to feed their fish with living slaves; when captives were led to fight in the amphitheatre with wild beasts or with each other, to glut the Roman appetite for blood upon a Roman holiday. And yet fearful as it was, the apostle says, "Care not for it." And fearful as war was in those days, when the soldiers came to John to be baptized, he did not recommend them to join some "Peace Association," to use the modern term; he simply exhorted them to be content with their wages. And hence we understand the way in which Christianity was to work. It interferes indirectly and not directly with existing institutions. No doubt it will at length abolish war and slavery, but there is not one case where we find Christianity interfering with institutions, as such. Even when Onesimus ran away and came to Paul, the apostle sent him back to his master Philemon, not dissolving the connection between them. And then, as a consolation to the servant, he told him of a higher feeling--a feeling that would make him free, with the chain and shackle upon his arm. And so it was possible for the Christian then, as it is now, to be possessed of the highest liberty even under tyranny. It many times occurred that Christian men found themselves placed under an unjust and tyrannical government, and compelled to pay unjust taxes. The Son of Man showed his freedom not by refusing, but by paying them. His glorious liberty could do so without any feeling of degradation; obeying the laws, not because they were right, but because institutions are to be upheld with cordiality. One thing in conclusion we have to observe. It is possible from all this to draw a most inaccurate conclusion. Some men have spoken of Christianity as if it was entirely indifferent about liberty and all public questions--as if with such things as these Christianity did not concern itself at all. This indifference is not to be found in the Apostle Paul. While he asserts that inward liberty is the only true liberty, he still goes on to say, "If thou mayst be free use it rather." For he well knew that although it was possible for a man to be a high and lofty Christian even though he were a slave, yet it was not probable that he would be so. Outward institutions are necessary partly to make a perfect Christian character; and thus Christianity works from what is internal to what is external. It gave to the slave the feeling of his dignity as a man, at the same time it gave to the Christian master a new view of his relation to his slave, and taught him to regard him "not now as a servant, but above a servant, a brother beloved." And so by degrees slavery passed into freed servitude, and freed servitude, under God's blessing, may pass into something else. There are two mistakes which are often made upon this subject; one is, the error of supposing that outward institutions are unnecessary for the formation of character, and the other, that of supposing that they are _all_ that is required to form the human soul. If we understand rightly the duty of a Christian man, it is this: to make his brethren free inwardly and outwardly; first inwardly, so that they may become masters of themselves, rulers of their passions, having the power of self-rule and self-control; and then outwardly, so that there may be every power and opportunity of developing the inward life; in the language of the prophet, "To break the rod of the oppressor and let the oppressed go free." XIV. _Preached January II, 1852._ MARRIAGE AND CELIBACY. "But this I say, brethren, the time is short: it remaineth that both they that have wives be as though they had none; and they that weep as though they wept not; and they that rejoice as though they rejoiced not; and they that buy, as though they possessed not; and they that use this world as not abusing it: for the fashion of this world passeth away."--1 Corinthians vii. 29-31. The subject of our exposition last Sunday was an essential portion of this chapter. It is our duty to examine now the former and the latter portions of it. These portions are occupied entirely with the inspired apostolic decision upon this one question--the comparative advantages and merits of celibacy and marriage. One preliminary question, however, is to be discussed. How came it that such a question should be put at all to the apostle? In the church at Corinth there were two different sections of society; first there were those who had been introduced into the church through Judaism, and afterwards those who had been converted from different forms of heathenism. Now it is well known, that it was the tendency of Judaism highly to venerate the marriage state, and just in the same proportion to disparage that of celibacy, and to place those who led a single life under a stigma and disgrace. Those converts therefore, entered into the Church of Christ carrying with them their old Jewish prejudices. On the other hand, many who had entered into the Christian Church had been converted to Christianity from different forms of heathenism. Among these prevailed a tendency to the belief (which originated primarily in the oriental schools of philosophy) that the highest virtue consisted in the denial of all natural inclinations, and the suppression of all natural desires; and looking upon marriage on one side only, and that the lowest, they were tempted to consider it as low, earthly, carnal, and sensual. It was at this time that Christianity entered into the world, and while it added fresh dignity and significance to the marriage relationship, it at the same time shed a splendour and a glory upon the other state. The virginity of the mother of Our Lord--the solitary life of John the Baptist--the pure and solitary youth of Christ Himself--had thrown upon celibacy a meaning and dignity which it did not possess before. No marvel therefore, that to men so educated, and but half prepared for Christianity, practices like these should have become exaggerations; for it rarely happens that any right ideas can be given to the world without suffering exaggeration. Human nature progresses, the human mind goes on; but it is rarely in a straight line, almost always through the medium of re-action, rebounding from extremes which produce contrary extremes. So it was in the Church of Corinth. There were two opposite parties holding views diametrically opposed to one another--one honouring the married and depreciating the unmarried life--the other attributing peculiar dignity and sanctity to celibacy, and looking down with contempt upon the married Christian state. It is scarcely necessary to remind ourselves that this diversity of sentiment has existed in the Church of Christ in almost all ages. For example in the early ages, in almost all the writings of the Fathers we have exaggerated descriptions of the dignity and glory of the state of celibacy. They speak as if the marriage state was low, carnal, and worldly; and the other the only one in which it is possible to attain to the higher spiritual life--the one the natural state, fit for man, the other the angelic, fit for angels. But ordinarily among men in general, in every age, the state of single life has been looked down upon and contemned. And then there comes to the parties who are so circumstanced a certain sense of shame, and along with this a disposition towards calumny and slander. Let us endeavour to understand the wise, inspired decision which the Apostle Paul pronounced upon this subject. He does not decide, as we might have been led to suppose he would, from his own peculiarity of disposition, upon one side only; but raises into relief the advantages and excellencies of both. He say that neither state has in itself any _intrinsic_ merit--neither is in itself superior to the other. "I suppose, then," he says, "that this is good for the present distress. Art thou bound unto a wife? Seek not to be loosed. Art thou loosed from a wife? Seek not a wife. But and if thou marry, thou hast not sinned: and if a virgin marry, she hath not sinned. Nevertheless, such shall have trouble in the flesh: but I spare you." That is, I will spare you this trouble, in recommending a single, solitary life. You will observe that in these words he attributes no intrinsic merit or dignity to either celibacy or marriage. The comparative advantages of these two states he decides with reference to two considerations; first of all with respect to their comparative power in raising the character of the individual, and afterwards with reference to the opportunities which each respectively gives for the service of God. I. With respect to the single life, he tells us that he had his own proper gift from God; in other words, he was one of those rare characters who have the power of living without personal sympathy. The feelings and affections of the Apostle Paul were of a strange and rare character--tending to expansiveness rather than concentration. Those sympathies which ordinary men expend upon a few, he extended to many. The members of the churches which he had founded at Corinth, and Ephesus, and Colosse, and Philippi, were to him as children; and he threw upon them all that sympathy and affection which other men throw upon their own domestic circle. To a man so trained and educated, the single life gave opportunities of serving God which the marriage state could not give. St. Paul had risen at once to that philanthropy--that expansive benevolence, which most other men only attain by slow degrees, and this was made, by God's blessing, a means of serving his cause. However we may sneer at the monastic system of the Church of Rome, it is unquestionable that many great works have been done by the monks which could not have been performed by men who had entered into the marriage relationship. Such examples of heroic Christian effort as are seen in the lives of St. Bernard, of Francis Xavier, and many others, are scarcely ever to be found except in the single state. The forlorn hope in battle, as well as in the cause of Christianity, must consist of men who have no domestic relationships to divide their devotion, who will leave no wife nor children to mourn over their loss. Let this great truth bring its improvement to those who, either of their own choice, or by the force of circumstances, are destined hereafter to live a single life on earth; and, instead of yielding to that feeling so common among mankind--the feeling of envy at another's happiness--instead of becoming gloomy, and bitter and censorious, let them remember what the Bible has to tell of the deep significance of the Virgin Mary's life--let them reflect upon the snares and difficulties from which they are saved--let them consider how much more time and money they can give to God--that they are called to the great work of serving Causes, of entering into public questions, while others spend their time and talents only upon themselves. The state of single life, however we may be tempted to think lightly of it, is a state that has peculiar opportunities of deep blessedness. 2. On the other hand, the Apostle Paul brings forward, into strong relief, the blessedness and advantages of the marriage state. He tells us that it is a type of the union between the Redeemer and the Church. But as this belongs to another part of the subject, we shall not enter into it now. But we observe, that men in general, must have their sympathies drawn out step by step, little by little. We do not rise to philanthropy all at once. We begin with personal, domestic, particular affections. And not only is it true that rarely can any man have the whole of his love drawn out except through this domestic state, but, also, it is to be borne in mind that those who have entered into this relationship have also their own peculiar advantages. It is true that in the marriage-life, interrupted as it is by daily cares and small trifles, those works of Christian usefulness cannot be so continuously carried on as in the other. But is there not a deep meaning to be learned from the old expression--that celibacy is an _angelic_ state? that it is preternatural, and not natural? that the goodness which is induced by it is not, so to speak, the natural goodness of Humanity, but such a goodness as God scarcely intended? Who of us cannot recollect a period of his history when all his time was devoted to the cause of Christ; when all his money was given to the service of God; and when we were tempted to look down upon those who were less ardent than ourselves, as if they were not Christians? But now the difficulties of life have come upon us; we have become involved in the trifles and the smallness of social domestic existence; and these have made us less devoted perhaps, less preternatural, less angelic--but more human, better fitted to enter into the daily cares and small difficulties of our ordinary humanity. And this has been represented to us by two great lives--one human, the other divine--one, the life of John the Baptist, and the other, of Jesus Christ. In both these cases is verified the saying, that "Wisdom is justified of all her children." Those who are wisdom's children--the truly wise--will recognise an even wisdom in both these lives; they will see that there are cases in which a solitary life is to be chosen for the sake of God; while there are other cases in which a social life becomes our bounden duty. But it should be specially observed here that _that_ Life which has been given to us as a specimen of life for all, was a social, a human Life. Christ did not refuse to mix with the common joys and common sorrows of Humanity. He was present at the marriage-feast, and by the bier of the widow's son. This of the two lives was the one which, because it was the most human, was the most divine; the most rare, the most difficult, the most natural--therefore, the most Christ-like. II. Let us notice, in the second place, the principle upon which the apostle founds this decision. It is given in the text--"This I say, brethren, the time is short: it remaineth that both they that have wives be as though they had none," "for the fashion of this world passeth away." Now observe here, I pray you, the deep wisdom of this apostolic decision. In point of fact it comes to this: Christianity is a spirit, not a law; it is a set of principles, not a set of rules; it is not a saying to us--You shall do this, you shall not do that--you shall use this particular dress, you shall not use that--you _shall_ lead, you shall _not_ lead a married life--Christianity consists of principles, but the application of those principles is left to every man's individual conscience. With respect not only to this particular case, but to all the questions which had been brought before him, the apostle applies the same principle; the cases upon which he decided were many and various, but the large, broad principle of his decision remains the same in all. You may marry, and you have not sinned; you may remain unmarried, and you do not sin; if you are invited to a heathen feast, you may go, or you may abstain from going; you may remain a slave, or you may become free; in _these things_ Christianity does not consist. But what it does demand is this: that whether married or unmarried, whether a slave or free, in sorrow or in joy, you are to live in a spirit higher and loftier than that of the world. The apostle gives us in the text two motives for this Christian unworldliness. The first motive which he lays down is this--"The time is short." You will observe how frequently, in the course of his remarks upon the questions proposed to him, the apostle turns, as it were entirely away from the subject, as if worn-out and wearied by the comparatively trivial character of the questions--as if this balancing of one earthly condition or advantage with another, were but a solemn trifling compared with eternal things. And so here, he seems to turn away from the question before him, and speaks of the shortness of time. "The time is short!" Time is short in reference to two things. First, it is short in reference to the person who regards it. That mysterious thing _Time_ is a matter of sensation, and not a reality; a modification merely of our own consciousness, and not actual existence; depending upon the flight of ideas--long to one, short to another. The span granted to the butterfly, the child of a single summer, may be long; that which is given to the cedar of Lebanon may be short. The shortness of time, therefore is entirely relative--belonging to us not to God. Time is short in reference to _existence_, whether you look at it before or after. Time past seems nothing; time to come always seems long. We say this chiefly for the sake of the young. To them fifty or sixty years seem a treasure inexhaustible. But, my young brethren, ask the old man, trembling on the verge of the grave, what he thinks of Time and Life. He will tell you that the three-score years and ten, or even the hundred-and-twenty years of Jacob, are but "few and evil." And, therefore, if you are tempted to unbelief in respect to this question, we appeal to experience--experience alone can judge of its truth. Once more, time is short with reference to its _opportunities_. For this is the emphatic meaning in the original--literally, "the opportunity is compressed, or shut in." Brethren, time may be long, and yet the opportunity may be very short. The sun in autumn may be bright and clear, but the seed which has not been sown until then will not vegetate. A man may have vigour and energy in manhood and maturity, but the work which ought to have been done in childhood and youth cannot be done in old age. A chance once gone in this world can never be recovered. Brother men--have you learned the meaning of yesterday? Do you rightly estimate the importance of to-day? That there are duties to be done to-day which cannot be done to-morrow? This it is that throws so solemn a significance into your work. The time for working is short, therefore begin to-day; "for the night is coming when no man can work." Time is short in reference to _eternity_. It was especially with this reference that the text was written. In those days, and even by the apostles themselves, the day of the Lord's appearance and second advent seemed much nearer than it was. They believed that it would occur during their own lives. And with this belief came the feeling which comes sometimes to all. "Oh, in comparison with that vast Hereafter, this little life shrivels into nothing! What is to-day worth, or its duties or its cares?" All deep minds have thought that. The thought of Time is solemn and awful to all minds in proportion to their depth--and in proportion as the mind is superficial, the thought has appeared little, and has been treated with levity. Brethren, let but a man possess himself of that thought--the deep thought of the brevity of time; this thought--that time is short, and that eternity is long--and he has learned the first great secret of unworldliness. 2. The second motive which the apostle gives us is the changing character of the external world. "The fashion of this world passeth away"--literally "the _scenery_ of this world," a dramatic expression, drawn from the Grecian stage. One of the deepest of modern thinkers has told us in words often quoted, "All the world's a stage." And a deeper thinker than he, because inspired, had said long before in the similar words of the text, "the _scenery_ of this world passeth away." There are two ways in which this is true. First, it is true with respect to all the things by which we are surrounded. It is only in poetry--the poetry of the Psalms for example--that the hills are called "everlasting." Go to the side of the ocean which bounds our country, and watch the tide going out, bearing with it the sand which it has worn from the cliffs; the very boundaries of our land are changing; they are not the same as they were when these words were written. Every day new relationships are forming around us; new circumstances are calling upon us to act--to act manfully, firmly, decisively, and up to the occasion, remembering that an opportunity once gone is gone for ever. Indulge not in vain regrets for the past, in vainer resolves for the future--act, act in the present. Again, this is true with respect to ourselves. "The fashion of this world passeth away" in us. The feelings we have now are not those which we had in childhood. There has passed away a glory from the earth--the stars, the sun, the moon, the green fields have lost their beauty and significance--nothing remains as it was, except their repeated impressions on the mind, the impressions of time, space, eternity, colour, form; these cannot alter, but all besides has changed. Our very minds alter. There is no bereavement so painful, no shock so terrible, but time will remove or alleviate. The keenest feeling in this world time wears out at last, and our minds become like old monumental tablets which have lost the inscription once graven deeply upon them. In conclusion, we have to examine the nature of this Christian unworldliness which is taught us in the text. The principle of unworldliness is stated in the latter portion of the text; in the former part the apostle makes an application of the principle to four cases of life. First, to cases of domestic relationship--"it remaineth that they that have wives be as though they had none." Secondly, to cases of sorrow--"and they that weep as though they wept not." Thirdly, to cases of joy--"and they that rejoice as though they rejoiced not." And, finally to cases of the acquisition of worldly property, "and they that buy as though they possessed not." Time will not allow us to go into these applications; we must confine ourselves to a brief consideration of the principle. The principle of Christian unworldliness, then is this, to "use this world as not abusing it." Here Christianity takes its stand, in opposition to two contrary principles. The spirit of the world says, "Time is short, therefore use it while you have it; take your fill of pleasure while you may." A narrow religion says, "Time is short, therefore temporal things should receive no attention: do not weep, do not rejoice; it is beneath a Christian." In opposition to the narrow spirit of religion, Christianity says, "_Use_ this world;"--in opposition to the spirit of the world Christianity says, "Do not _abuse_ it." A distinct duty arises from this principle to use the world. While in the world we are citizens of the world: it is our _duty_ to share its joys, to take our part in its sorrows, not to shrink from its difficulties, but to mix ourselves with its infinite opportunities. So that if time be short, so far from that fact lessening their dignity or importance, it infinitely increases them; since upon these depend the destinies of our eternal being. Unworldliness is this--to hold things from God in the perpetual conviction that they will not last; to have the world, and not to let the world have us; to be the world's masters, and not the world's slaves. XV. _Preached January 11, 1852._ THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH A FAMILY. "Our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named."--Ephesians iii. 14, 15. In the verses immediately before the text the Apostle Paul has been speaking of what he calls a mystery--that is, a revealed secret. And the secret was this, that the Gentiles would be "fellow-heirs and of the same body, and partakers of the promise in Christ by the gospel." It had been kept secret from the former ages and generations; it was a secret which the Jew had not suspected, had not even dreamt of. It appeared to him to be his duty to keep as far as possible from the Gentile. Circumcision, which taught him the duty of separation from the Gentile spirit, and Gentile practices, seemed to him to teach hatred towards Gentile _persons_, until at length, in the good pleasure and providence of God, in the fulness of time, through the instrumentality of men whose _hearts_ rather than whose intellects were inspired by God, the truth came out distinct and clear, that God was the Father of the Gentiles as well as of the Jews, "for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon Him." In the progress of the months, my Christian brethren, we have arrived again at that period of the year in which our Church calls upon us to commemorate the Epiphany, or manifestation of Jesus Christ to the Gentiles, and we know not that in the whole range of Scripture we could find a passage which more distinctly and definitely than this, brings before us the spirit in which it is incumbent upon us to enter upon this duty. In considering this passage we shall divide it into these two branches:--1st, the definition which the Apostle Paul here gives of the Church of Christ; and, 2ndly, the Name by which this Church is named. I. In the first place, let us consider the definition given by the Apostle Paul of the Christian Church, taken in its entirety. It is this, "the whole family in heaven and earth." But in order to understand this fully, it will be necessary for us to break it up into its different terms. 1. First of all it is taught by this definition that the Church of Christ is a society founded upon natural affinities--a "family." A family is built on affinities which are natural, not artificial; it is not a combination, but a society. In ancient times an association of interest combined men in one guild or corporation for protecting the common persons in that corporation from oppression. In modern times identity of political creed or opinion has bound men together in one league, in order to establish those political principles which appeared to them of importance. Similarity of taste has united men together in what is called an association, or a society, in order by this means to attain more completely the ends of that science to which they had devoted themselves. But as these have been raised artificially, so their end is inevitably, dissolution. Society passes on, and guilds and corporations die; principles are established, and leagues become dissolved; tastes change, and then the association or society breaks up and comes to nothing. It is upon another principle altogether that that which we call a family, or true society, is formed. It is not built upon similarity of taste, nor identity of opinion, but upon affinities of nature. You do not _choose_ who shall be your brother; you cannot exclude your mother or your sister; it does not depend upon choice or arbitrary opinion at all, but is founded upon the eternal nature of things. And precisely in the same way is the Christian Church formed--upon natural affinity, and not upon artificial combination. "The family, the whole family in heaven and earth;" not made up of those who _call_ themselves brethren, but of those who _are_ brethren; not founded merely upon the principles of combination, but upon the principles of affinity. That is not a church, or a family, or a society which is made up by men's choice, as when in the upper classes of life, men of fashion unite together, selecting their associates from their own _class_, and form what is technically called a society; it is a combination if you will, but a society it is not--a family it is not--a Church of Christ it cannot be. And, again, when the Baptists or the Independents, or any other sectarians, unite themselves with men holding the same faith and entertaining the same opinions, there may be a _sect_, a _combination_, a _persuasion_, but a _Church_ there cannot be. And so again, when the Jew in time past linked himself with the Jew, with those of the same nation, there you have what in ancient times was called Judaism, and in modern times is called Hebraicism--a system, a combination, but not a Church. The Church rises ever out of the family. First of all in the good providence of God, there is the family, then the tribe, then the nation; and then the nation merges itself into Humanity. And the nation which refuses to merge its nationality in Humanity, to lose itself in the general interests of mankind, is left behind, and loses almost its religious nationality--like the Jewish people. Such is the first principle. A man is born of the same family, and is not made such by an appointment, or by arbitrary choice. 2. Another thing which is taught by this definition is this, that the Church of Christ is a whole made up of manifold diversities. We are told here it is "the _whole_ family," taking into it the great and good of ages past, now in heaven; and also the struggling, the humble, and the weak now existing upon earth. Here again, the analogy holds good between the Church and the family. Never more than in the family is the true entirety of our nature seen. Observe how all the diversities of human condition and character manifest themselves in the family. First of all, there are the two opposite poles of masculine and feminine, which contain within them the entire of our Humanity--which together, not separately, make up the whole of man. Then there are the diversities in the degrees and kinds of affection. For when we speak of family affection, we must remember that it is made up of many diversities. There is nothing more different than the love which the sister bears towards the brother, compared with that which the brother bears towards the sister. The affection which a man bears towards his father is quite distinct from that which he feels towards his mother; it is something quite different towards his sister; totally diverse again, towards his brother. And then there are diversities of character. First the mature wisdom and stern integrity of the father; then the exuberant tenderness of the mother. And then one is brave and enthusiastic, another thoughtful, and another tender. One is remarkable for being full of rich humour, another is sad, mournful, even melancholy. Again, besides these, there are diversities of condition in life. First, there is the heir, sustaining the name and honour of the family; then perchance the soldier, in whose career all the anxiety and solicitude of the family is centred; then the man of business, to whom they look up, trusting his advice, expecting his counsel; lastly perhaps, there is the invalid, from the very cradle trembling between life and death, drawing out all the sympathies and anxieties of each member of the family, and so uniting them all more closely, from their having one common point of sympathy and solicitude. Now, you will observe that these are not accidental, but absolutely essential to the idea of a family; for so far as any one of them is lost, so far the family is incomplete. A family made up of one sex alone, all brothers and no sisters; or in which all are devoted to one pursuit; or in which there is no diversity of temper and dispositions--the same monotonous repeated identity--a sameness in the type of character--this is not a family, it is only the fragment of a family. And precisely in the same way all these diversities of character and condition are necessary to constitute and complete the idea of a Christian Church. For as in ages past it was the delight of the Church to canonize one particular class of virtues--as for instance, purity or martyrdom--so now, in every age, and in every individual bosom, there is a tendency to canonize, or honour, or reckon as Christian, only one or two classes of Christian qualities. For example, if you were to ask in the present day where you should find a type of the Christian character, many in all probability would point you to the man who keeps the Sabbath-day, is regular in his attendance upon the services of the Church, who loves to hear the Christian sermon. This is a phase of Christian character--that which is essentially and peculiarly the _feminine_ type of religion. But is there in God's Church to be found no place for that type which is rather masculine than feminine?--which, not in litanies or in psalm-singing does the will of God, but by struggling for principles, and contending for the truth--_that_ life, whose prayer is action, whose aspiration is continual effort? Or again, in every age, amongst all men, in the history of almost every individual, at one time or another, there has been a tendency towards that which has been emphatically named in modern times _hero-worship_--leading us to an admiration of the more singular, powerful, noble qualities of humanity. And wherever this tendency to hero-worship exists there will be found side by side with it a tendency to undervalue and depreciate excellences of an opposite character--the humble, meek, retiring qualities. But it is precisely for these that the Church of Christ finds place. "Blessed are the meek, blessed are the merciful, blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness, blessed are the poor in spirit." In God's world there is a place for the wren and the violet, just as truly as there is for the eagle and the rose. In the Church of God there is a place--and that the noblest--for Dorcas making garments for the poor, and for Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus, just as truly as there is for Elijah confounding a false religion by his noble opposition; for John the Baptist making a king tremble on his throne; or for the Apostle Paul "compassing sea and land" by his wisdom and his heroic deeds. Once more, there are ages, as well as times in our own individual experience, when we set up charity as if it were the one only Christian character. And wherever this tendency is found there will be found at the same time, and side by side with it, a tendency to admire the spurious form of charity, which is a sentiment and not a virtue; which can sympathize with crime, but not with law; which can be tender to savages, but has no respect, no care for national honour. And therefore, does this principle of the Apostle Paul call upon us to esteem also another form or type of character, and the opposite one; that which is remarkable for--in which predominates--not so much charity as _justice_; that which was seen in the warriors and prophets of old; who perchance, had a more strong recoil from vice than sympathy with virtue; whose indignation towards that which is wrong and hypocritical was more intense than their love for that which is good: the material, the character, out of which the reformer and the prophet, those who are called to do great works on earth, are made. The Church of Christ takes not in one individual form of goodness merely, but every form of excellence that can adorn Humanity. Nor is this wonderful when we remember Who He was from whom this Church was named. It was He in whom centred all excellence--a righteousness which was entire and perfect. But when we speak of the perfection of righteousness, let us remember that it is made not of one exaggerated character, but of a true harmony, a due proportion of all virtues united. In Him were found therefore, that tenderness towards sinners which had no sympathy with sin; that humility which could be dignified, and was yet united with self-respect; that simplicity which is ever to be met with, side by side with true majesty; that love which could weep over Jerusalem at the very moment when He was pronouncing its doom, that truth and justice which appeared to stand as a protection to those who had been oppressed, at the same time that He scathed with indignant invective the Pharisees of the then existing Jews. There are two, only two, _perfect_ Humanities. One has existed already in the person of our Lord Jesus Christ, the other is to be found only in the collective Church. Once, only once, has God given a perfect representation of Himself, "the brightness of the Father's glory, and the express image of His person." And if we ask again for a perfect Humanity, the answer is, it is not in this Church or in that Church, or in this man or in that man, in this age or in that age, but in the collective blended graces and beauties, and humanities, which are found in every age, in all churches, but not in every separate man. So, at least, Paul has taught us, "Till we _all_ come"--_collectively_ not separately--"in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man"--in other words, to a perfect _Humanity_--"unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." 3. The last thing which is taught us by this definition is, that the Church of Christ is a society which is for ever shifting its locality, and altering its forms. It is the _whole_ church, "the _whole_ family in heaven and earth." So then, those who were on earth, and are now in heaven, are yet members of the same family still. Those who had their home here, now have it there. Let us see what it is that we should learn from this doctrine. It is this, that the dead are not lost to us. There is a sense in which the departed are ours more than they were before. There is a sense in which the Apostles Paul, or John, the good and great of ages past, belong to this age more than to that in which they lived, but in which they were not understood; in which the common-place and every-day part of their lives hindered the brightness and glory and beauty of their character from shining forth. So it is in the family. It is possible for men to live in the same house, and partake of the same meal from day to day, and from year to year, and yet remain strangers to each other, mistaking each other's feelings, not comprehending each other's character; and it is only when the Atlantic rolls between, and half a hemisphere is interposed, that we learn how dear they are to us, how all our life is bound up in deep anxiety with their existence. Therefore it is the Christian feels that the family is not broken. Think you that family can break or end?--that because the chair is empty, therefore he, your child, is no more? It may be so with the coarse, the selfish, the unbelieving, the superstitious; but the eye of faith sees there only a transformation. He is not there, he is risen. You see the place where he was, but he has passed to heaven. So at least the parental heart of David felt of old, "by faith and not by sight," when speaking of his infant child. "I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me." Once more, the Church of Christ is a society ever altering and changing its external forms. "The _whole_ family"--the Church of the Patriarchs, and of ages before them; and yet the same family. Remember, I pray you, the diversities of form through which, in so many ages and generations, this Church has passed. Consider the difference there was between the patriarchal Church of the time of Abraham and Isaac, and its condition under David; or the difference between the Church so existing and its state in the days of the apostles; and the marvellous difference between that and the same Church four or five centuries later; or, once again, the difference between that, externally one, and the Church as it exists in the present day, broken into so many fragments. Yet diversified as these states may be, they are not more so than the various stages of a family. There is a time when the children are all in one room, around their mother's knee. Then comes a time, still further on, when the first separation takes place, and some are leaving their home to prepare for after life. Afterwards, when all in their different professions, trades, or occupations, are separate. At last comes the time when some are gone. And, perchance, the two survivors meet at last--an old, gray-haired man, and a weak, worn-out woman--to mourn over the last graves of a household. Christian brethren, which of these is the right form--the true, external pattern of a family? Say we not truly, it remains the same under all outward mutations? We must think of this, or else we may lose heart in our work. Conceive for instance, the feelings of a pious Jew, when Christianity entered this world; when all his religious system was broken up--the Temple service brought to a violent end; when that polity which he thought was to redeem and ennoble the world was cast aside as a broken and useless thing. Must they not have been as gloomy and as dreary as those of the disciples, when He was dead who they "trusted should have redeemed Israel?" In both cases the body was gone or was altered--the spirit had arisen. And precisely so it is with our fears and unbelieving apprehensions now. Institutions pass--churches alter--old forms change--and high-minded and good men cling to these as if _they_ were the only things by which God could regenerate the world. Christianity appears to some men to be effete and worn out. Men who can look back upon the times of Venn, and Newton, and Scott--comparing the degeneracy of their descendants with the men of those days--lose heart, as if all things were going wrong. "Things are not," they say, "as they were in our younger days." No my Christian brethren, things are not as they then were; but the Christian cause lives on--not in the successors of such men as those; the outward form is altered, but the spirit is elsewhere, is risen--risen just as truly as the spirit of the highest Judaism rose again in Christianity. And to mourn over old superstitions and effete creeds, is just as unwise as is the grief of the mother mourning over the form which was once her child. She cannot separate her affection from that form--those hands, those limbs, those features--are they not her child? The true answer is, her child is not there. It is only the form of her child. And it is as unwise to mourn over the decay of those institutions--the change of human forms--as it was unwise in Jonah to mourn with that passionate sorrow over the decay of the gourd which had sheltered him from the heat of the noontide sun. A worm had eaten the root of the gourd, and it was gone. But he who made the gourd the shelter to the weary--the shadow of those who are oppressed by the noontide heat of life--lived on: Jonah's God. And so brethren, all things change--all things outward change and alter; but the God of the Church lives on. The Church of God remains under fresh forms--the one, holy, entire family in heaven and earth. II. Pass we on now, in the second place, to consider the name by which this Church is named. "Our Lord Jesus Christ," the Apostle says, "of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named." Now, every one familiar with the Jewish modes of thought and expression, will allow here, that _name_ is but another word to express being, actuality, and existence. So when Jacob desired to know the character and nature of Jehovah, he said--"Tell me now, I beseech thee, thy _name_". When the Apostle here says, "Our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is _named_," it is but another way of saying that it is He on Whom the Church depends--Who has given it substantive existence--without Whom it could not be at all. It is but another way of saying what he has expressed elsewhere--"that there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we may be saved." Let us not lose ourselves in vague generalities. Separate from Christ, there is no salvation; there can be no Christianity. Let us understand what we mean by this. Let us clearly define and enter into the meaning of the words we use. When we say that our Lord Jesus Christ is He "of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named," we mean that the very being of the Church depends on Christ--that it could not be without Him. Now, the Church of Christ depends upon these three things--first, the recognition of a common Father; secondly, of a common Humanity; and thirdly, of a common Sacrifice. 1. First, the recognition of a common Father. That is the sacred truth proclaimed by the Epiphany. God revealed in Christ--not the Father of the Jew only, but also of the Gentile. The Father of a "whole family." Not the partial Father, loving one alone--the elder--but the younger son besides: the outcast prodigal who had spent his living with harlots and sinners, but the child still, and the child of a Father's love. Our Lord taught this in His own blessed prayer--"_Our_ Father;" and as we lose the meaning of that single word _our_, as we say _my_ Father--the Father of _me_ and of _my_ faction--of _me_ and _my_ fellow believers--_my_ Anglicanism or _my_ Judaism--be it what it may--instead of _our_ Father--the Father of the outcast, the profligate, of all who choose to claim a Father's love; _so_ we lose the meaning of the lesson which the Epiphany was designed to teach, and the possibility of building up a family to God. 2. The recognition of a common Humanity. He from whom the Church is named, took upon Him not the nature merely of the noble, of kings, or of the intellectual philosopher--but of the beggar, the slave, the outcast, the infidel, the sinner, and the nature of every one struggling in various ways. Let us learn then brother men, that we shall have no family in God, unless we learn the deep truth of our common Humanity, shared in by the servant and the sinner, as well as the sovereign. Without this we shall have no Church--no family in God. 3. Lastly, the Church of Christ proceeds out of, and rests upon, the belief in a common Sacrifice. * * * * * There are three ways in which the human race hitherto has endeavoured to construct itself into a family; first, by the sword; secondly, by an ecclesiastical system; and thirdly, by trade or commerce. First, by the sword. The Assyrian, the Persian, the Greek, and the Roman, have done their work--in itself a most valuable and important one; but so far as the formation of mankind into a family was the object aimed at, the work of the sword has done almost nothing. Then there was the ecclesiastical system--the grand attempt of the Church of Rome to organize all men into one family, with one ecclesiastical, visible, earthly head. Being Protestants, it is not necessary for us to state our conviction that this attempt has been a signal and complete failure. We now come to the system of commerce and trade. We are told that that which chivalry and honour could not do--which an ecclesiastical system could not do--personal interest _will_ do. Trade is to bind men together into one family. When they feel it their _interest_ to be one, they will be brothers. Brethren, that which is built on selfishness cannot stand. The system of personal interest must be shivered into atoms. Therefore, we, who have observed the ways of God in the past, are waiting in quiet but awful expectation until he shall confound this system as he has confounded those which have gone before. And it may be effected by convulsions more terrible and more bloody than the world has yet seen. While men are talking of peace, and of the great progress of civilization, there is heard in the distance the noise of armies gathering rank on rank: east and west, north and south, are rolling towards us the crushing thunders of universal war. Therefore there is but one other system to be tried, and that is the Cross of Christ--a system that is not to be built upon selfishness, nor upon blood, nor upon personal interest, but upon Love. Love, not self--the Cross of Christ, and not the mere working-out of the ideas of individual humanity. One word only in conclusion. Upon this, the great truth of the Epiphany, the Apostle founds a prayer. He prays, "For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that he would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with might by His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith." This manifestation of joy and good to the Gentiles was, according to him, the great mystery of Love. A Love, brighter, deeper, wider, higher than the largest human heart had ever yet dreamed of. But the Apostle tells us it is after all, but a glimpse of the love of God. How should we learn it more? How should we comprehend the whole meaning of the Epiphany? By sitting down to read works of theology? The Apostle Paul tells us--No. You must love, in order to understand love. "That ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth and length, and depth and height; and to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge." Brother men, one act of charity will teach us more of the love of God than a thousand sermons--one act of unselfishness, of real self-denial, the putting forth of one loving feeling to the outcast and "those who are out of the way," will tell us more of the meaning of the Epiphany than whole volumes of the wisest writers on theology. XVI. _Preached January 25, 1852._ THE LAW OF CHRISTIAN CONSCIENCE. "Howbeit there is not in every man that knowledge: for some, with conscience of the idol, unto this hour, eat it as a thing offered unto an idol; and their conscience being weak is denied. But meat commendeth us not to God: for neither if we eat are we the better; neither if we eat not are we the worse. But take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours become a stumbling-block to them that are weak. For if any man see thee which hast knowledge, sit at meat in the idol's temple, shall not the conscience of him which is weak be emboldened to eat those things which are offered to idols; and through thy knowledge shall the weak brother perish for whom Christ died? But when ye sin so against the brethren and wound their weak conscience ye sin against Christ. Wherefore if meat make my brother to offend I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend."--1 Corinthians viii. 7-13. We have already divided this chapter into two branches--the former portion of it containing the difference between Christian knowledge and secular knowledge, and the second portion containing the apostolic exposition of the law of Christian conscience. The first of these we endeavoured to expound last Sunday, but it may be well briefly to recapitulate the principles of that discourse in a somewhat different form. Corinth as we all know and remember, was a city built on the sea coast, having a large and free communication with all foreign nations; and there was also within it, and going on amongst its inhabitants, a free interchange of thought, and a vivid power of communicating the philosophy and truths of those days to each other. Now it is plain, that to a society in such a state, and to minds so educated, the gospel of Christ must have presented a peculiar attraction, presenting itself to them as it did, as a law of Christian liberty. And so, in Corinth the gospel had "free course and was glorified," and was received with great joy by almost all men, and by minds of all classes and all sects; and a large number of these attached themselves to the teaching of the Apostle Paul as the most accredited expounder of Christianity--the "royal law of liberty." But it seems, from what we read in this epistle, that a large number of these men received Christianity as a thing intellectual, and that alone--and not as a thing which touched the conscience, and swayed and purified the affections. Thus this liberty became to them almost _all_--they ran into sin or went to extravagance--they rejoiced in their freedom from the superstitions, the ignorances, and the scruples which bound their weaker brethren; but had no charity--none of that intense charity which characterized the Apostle Paul, for those still struggling in the delusions and darkness from which they themselves were free. More than that, they demanded their right, their Christian liberty of expressing their opinions in the church, merely for the sake of _exhibiting_ the Christian graces and spiritual gifts which had been showered upon them so largely; until by degrees those very assemblies became a lamentable exhibition of their own depravity, and led to numerous irregularities which we find severely rebuked by the Apostle Paul. Their women, rejoicing in the emancipation which had been given to the Christian community, laid aside the old habits of attire which had been consecrated so long by Grecian and Jewish custom, and appeared with their heads uncovered in the Christian community. Still further than that, the Lord's Supper exhibited an absence of all solemnity, and seemed more a meeting for licentious gratification, where "one was hungry, and another was drunken"--a place in which earthly drunkenness, the mere enjoyment of the appetites, had taken the place of Christian charity towards each other. And the same feeling--this love of mere liberty--liberty in itself--manifested itself in many other directions. Holding by this freedom, their philosophy taught that the body, that is the flesh, was the only cause of sin; that the soul was holy and pure; and that therefore, to be free from the body would be entire, perfect, Christian emancipation. And so came in that strange, wrong doctrine, exhibited in Corinth, where immortality was taught separate from, and in opposition to, the doctrine of the resurrection. And afterwards they went on with their conclusions about liberty, to maintain that the body, justified by the sacrifice of Christ, was no longer capable of sin; and that in the evil which was done by the body, the soul had taken no part. And therefore sin was to them but as a name, from which a Christian conscience was to be freed altogether. So that when one of their number had fallen into grievous sin, and had committed fornication, "such as was not so much as named among the Gentiles," so far from being humbled by it, they were "puffed up," as if they were exhibiting to the world an enlightened, true, perfect Christianity--separate from all prejudices. To such a society and to such a state of mind, the Apostle Paul preached in all its length, breadth, and fulness, the humbling doctrines of the Cross of Christ. He taught that knowledge was one thing--that charity was _another_ thing; that "knowledge puffeth up, but charity buildeth up." He reminded them that love was the perfection of knowledge. In other words, his teaching came to this: there are two kinds of knowledge; the one the knowledge of the intellect, the other the knowledge of the heart. Intellectually, God never can be known. He must be known by Love--for, "if any man love God, the same is known of Him." Here then, we have arrived in another way, at precisely the same conclusion at which we arrived last Sunday. Here are two kinds of knowledge, secular knowledge and Christian knowledge; and Christian knowledge is this--to know by Love. Let us now consider the remainder of the chapter, which treats of the law of Christian conscience. You will observe that it divides itself into two branches--the first containing an exposition of the law itself, and the second the Christian applications which flow out of this exposition. I. The way in which the apostle expounds the law of Christian conscience is this:--Guilt is contracted by the soul, in so far as it sins against and transgresses the law of God by doing that which it believes to be wrong: not so much what _is_ wrong as what _appears_ to _it_ to be wrong. This is the doctrine distinctly laid down in the 7th and 8th verses. The apostle tells the Corinthians--these strong-minded Corinthians--that the superstitions of their weaker brethren were unquestionably wrong. "Meat," he says, "commendeth us not to God; for neither if we eat are we the better, neither if we eat not are we the worse." He then tells them further, that "there is not in every man that knowledge; for some with conscience of the idol, eat it as a thing offered unto an idol." Here then, is an ignorant, mistaken, ill-informed conscience; and yet he goes on to tell them that this conscience, so ill-informed, yet binds the possessor of it: "and their conscience being weak, is defiled." For example,--there could be no harm in eating the flesh of an animal that had been offered to an idol or false god; for a false god is nothing, and it is impossible for it to have contracted positive defilement by being offered to that which is a positive and absolute negation. And yet if any man thought it wrong to eat such flesh, to him it _was_ wrong; for in that act there would be a deliberate act of transgression--a deliberate preference of that which was mere enjoyment, to that which was apparently, though it may be only apparently, sanctioned by the law of God. And so it would carry with it all the disobedience, all the guilt, and all the misery which belongs to the doing of an act altogether wrong; or as St. Paul expresses it, the conscience would become denied. Here then, we arrive at the first distinction--the distinction between absolute and relative right and wrong. Absolute right and absolute wrong, like absolute truth, can each be but _one_ and unalterable in the sight of God. The one absolute _right_--the charity of God and the sacrifice of Christ--this, from eternity to eternity must be the sole measure of eternal right. But human right or human wrong, that is the merit or demerit, of any action done by any particular man, must be measured, not by that absolute standard, but as a matter relative to his particular circumstances, the state of the age in which he lives, and his own knowledge of right and wrong. For we come into this world with a moral sense; or to speak more Christianly, with a conscience. And yet that will tell us but very little distinctly. It tells us broadly that which is right and that which is wrong, so that every child can understand this. That charity and self-denial are right--this we see recognised in almost every nation. But the boundaries of these two--when and how far self-denial is right--what are the bounds of charity--this it is for different circumstances yet to bring out and determine. And so, it will be found that there is a different standard among different nations and in different ages. That for example, which was the standard among the Israelites in the earlier ages, and before their settlement in Canaan, was very different from the higher and truer standard of right and wrong recognised by the later prophets. And the standard in the third and fourth centuries after Christ, was truly and unquestionably an entirely different one from that recognised in the nineteenth century among ourselves. Let me not be mistaken. I do not say that right and wrong are merely conventional, or merely chronological or geographical, or that they vary with latitude and longitude. I do not say that there ever was or ever can be a nation so utterly blinded and perverted in its moral sense as to acknowledge that which is wrong--seen and known to be wrong--as right; or on the other hand, to profess that which is seen and understood as right, to be wrong. But what I do say is this: that the form and aspect in which different deeds appear, so vary, that there will be for ever a change and alteration in men's opinions, and that which is really most generous may seem most base, and that which is really most base may appear most generous. So for example, as I have already said, there are two things universally recognised--recognised as right by every man whose conscience is not absolutely perverted--charity and self-denial. The charity of God, the sacrifice of Christ--these are the two grand, leading principles of the Gospel; and in some form or other you will find these lying at the roots of every profession and state of feeling in almost every age. But the form in which these appear, will vary with all the gradations which are to be found between the lowest savage state and the highest and most enlightened Christianity. For example, in ancient Israel the law of love was expounded thus:--"Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy." Among the American Indians and at the Cape, the only homage perchance given to self-denial, was the strange admiration given to that prisoner of war who bore with unflinching fortitude the torture of his country's enemies. In ancient India the same principle was exhibited, but in a more strange and perverted manner. The homage there given to self-denial, self-sacrifice, was this--that the highest form of religion was considered to be that exhibited by the devotee who sat in a tree until the birds had built their nests in his hair--until his nails, like those of the King of Babylon, had grown like birds' talons--until they had grown into his hands--and he became absorbed into the Divinity. We will take another instance, and one better known. In ancient Sparta it was the custom to teach children to steal. And here there would seem to be a contradiction to our proposition--here it would seem as if right and wrong were matters merely conventional; for surely stealing can never be anything but wrong. But if we look deeper we shall see that there is no contradiction here. It was not stealing which was admired; the child was punished if the theft was discovered; but it was the dexterity which was admired, and that because it was a warlike virtue, necessary it may be to a people in continual rivalry with their neighbours. It was not that honesty was despised and dishonesty esteemed, but that honesty and dishonesty were made subordinate to that which appeared to them of higher importance, namely, the duty of concealment. And so we come back to the principle which we laid down at first. In every age, among all nations, the same broad principle remains; but the application of it varies. The conscience may be ill-informed, and in this sense only are right and wrong conventional--varying with latitude and longitude, depending upon chronology and geography. The principle laid down by the Apostle Paul is this:--A man will be judged, not by the abstract law of God, not by the rule of absolute right, but much rather by the relative law of conscience. This he states most distinctly--looking at the question on both sides. That which seems to a man to be right is, in a certain sense, right to him; and that which seems to a man to be wrong, in a certain sense _is_ wrong to him. For example: he says in his Epistle to the Romans (v. 14.) that, "sin is not imputed when there is no law," in other words, if a man does not really know a thing to be wrong there is a sense in which, if not right to him, it ceases to be so wrong as it would otherwise be. With respect to the other of these sides however, the case is still more distinct and plain. Here, in the judgment which the apostle delivers in the parallel chapter of the Epistle to the Romans (the 14th), he says, "I know, and am persuaded of the Lord Jesus, that there is nothing unclean of itself: but to him that esteemeth anything to be unclean, to him it is unclean." In other words, whatever may be the abstract merits of the question--however in God's jurisprudence any particular act may stand--to you, thinking it to be wrong, it manifestly _is_ wrong, and your conscience will gather round it a stain of guilt if you do it. In order to understand this more fully, let us take a few instances. There is a difference between _truth_ and _veracity_. Veracity--mere veracity--is a small, poor thing. Truth is something greater and higher. Veracity is merely the correspondence between some particular statement and facts--truth is the correspondence between a man's whole soul and reality. It is possible for a man to say that which, unknown to him is false; and yet he may be true: because if deprived of truth he is deprived of it unwillingly. It is possible, on the other hand, for a man to utter veracities, and yet at the very time that he is uttering those veracities to be false to himself, to his brother, and to his God. One of the most signal instances of this is to be seen in the Book of Job. Most of what Job's friends said to him were veracious statements. Much of what Job said for himself was unveracious and mistaken. And yet those veracities of theirs were so torn from all connection with fact and truth, that they became falsehoods; and they were, as has been said, nothing more than "orthodox liars" in the sight of God. On the other hand, Job, blundering perpetually, and falling into false doctrine, was yet a true man--searching for and striving after the truth; and if deprived of it for a time, deprived of it with all his heart and soul unwillingly. And therefore it was that at last the Lord appeared out of the whirlwind, to confound the men of mere veracity, and to stand by and support the honour of the heartily true. Let us apply the principle further. It is a matter of less importance that a man should state true views, than that he should state views truly. We will put this in its strongest form. Unitarianism is false--Trinitarianism is true. But yet in the sight of God, and with respect to a man's eternal destinies hereafter, it would surely be better for him earnestly, honestly, truly, to hold the doctrines of Unitarianism, than in a cowardly or indifferent spirit, or influenced by authority, or from considerations of interest, or for the sake of lucre, to hold the doctrines of Trinitarianism. For instance:--Not many years ago the Church of Scotland was severed into two great divisions, and gave to this age a marvellous proof that there is still amongst us the power of living faith--when five hundred ministers gave up all that earth holds dear--position in the church they had loved; friendships and affections formed, and consecrated by long fellowship, in its communion; and almost their hopes of gaining a livelihood--rather than assert a principle which seemed to them to be a false one. Now my brethren, surely the question in such a case for us to consider is not this, merely--whether of the two sections held the abstract _right_--held the principle in its integrity--but surely far rather, this: who on either side was true to the light within, true to God, true to the truth as God had revealed it to his soul. Now it is precisely upon this principle that we are enabled to indulge a Christian hope that many of those who in ancient times were persecutors, for example, may yet be justified at the bar of Christ. Nothing can make persecution right--it is wrong, essentially, eternally wrong in the sight of God. And yet, if a man sincerely and assuredly thinks that Christ has laid upon him a command to persecute with fire and sword, it is surely better that he should, in spite of all feelings of tenderness and compassion, cast aside the dearest affections at the command of his Redeemer, than that he should, in mere laxity and tenderness, turn aside from what seemed to him to be his duty. At least, this appears to be the opinion of the Apostle Paul. He tells us that he was "a blasphemer and a persecutor and injurious," that "he did many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth," that "being exceedingly mad against the disciples, he persecuted them even unto strange cities." But he tells us further that, "for this cause he obtained mercy, because he did it ignorantly in unbelief." Now take a case precisely opposite. In ancient times the Jews did that by which it appeared to them that they would contract defilement and guilt--they spared the lives of the enemies which they had taken in battle. Brethren the eternal law is, that charity is right: and that law is eternally right which says, "Thou shalt love thine enemy." And had the Jews acted upon this principle they would have done well to spare their enemies: but they did it thinking it to be wrong, transgressing that law which commanded them to slay their idolatrous enemies--not from generosity, but in cupidity--not from charity, but from lax zeal. And so doing, the act was altogether wrong. II. Such is the apostle's exposition of the law of Christian conscience. Let us now, in the second place, consider the applications both of a personal and of a public nature, which arise out of it. 1. The first application is a personal one. It is this:--Do what _seems_ to _you_ to be right: it is only so that you will at last learn by the grace of God to see clearly what _is_ right. A man thinks within himself that it is God's law and God's will that he should act thus and thus. There is nothing possible for us to say--there is no advice for us to give, but this--"You _must_ so act." He is responsible for the opinions he holds, and still more for the way in which he arrived at them--whether in a slothful and selfish, or in an honest and truth-seeking manner; but being now his soul's convictions, you can give no other law than this--"You must obey your conscience." For no man's conscience gets so seared by doing what is wrong unknowingly, as by doing that which appears to be wrong to his conscience. The Jews' consciences did not get seared by their slaying the Canaanites, but they did become seared by their failing to do what appeared to them to be right. Therefore, woe to you if you do what others think right, instead of obeying the dictates of your own conscience; woe to you if you allow authority, or prescription, or fashion, or influence, or any other human thing, to interfere with that awful and sacred thing--responsibility. "Every man," said the apostle, "must give an account of himself to God." 2. The second application of this principle has reference to others. No doubt to the large, free, enlightened mind of the Apostle Paul, all these scruples and superstitions must have seemed mean, trivial, and small indeed. It was a matter to him of far less importance that truth should be _established_ than that it should be arrived at truly--a matter of far less importance even, that right should be done, than that right should be done rightly. Conscience was far more sacred to him than even liberty--it was to him a prerogative far more precious to assert the rights of Christian conscience, than to magnify the privileges of Christian liberty. The scruple may be small and foolish, but it may be impossible to uproot the scruple without tearing up the feeling of the sanctity of conscience, and of reverence to the law of God, associated with this scruple. And therefore the Apostle Paul counsels these men to abridge their Christian liberty, and not to eat of those things which had been sacrificed to idols, but to have compassion upon the scruples of their weaker brethren. And this, for two reasons. The first of these is a mere reason of Christian feeling. It might cause exquisite pain to sensitive minds to see those things which appeared to them to be wrong, done by Christian brethren. Now you may take a parallel case. It may be, if you will, mere superstition to bow at the name of Jesus. It may be, and no doubt is, founded upon a mistaken interpretation of that passage in the Epistle to the Philippians (ii. 10), which says that "at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow." But there are many congregations in which this has been the long-established rule, and there are many Christians who would feel pained to see such a practice discontinued--as if it implied a declension from the reverence due to "that name which is above every name." Now what in this case is the Christian duty? Is it this--to stand upon our Christian liberty? Or is it not rather this--to comply with a prejudice which is manifestly a harmless one, rather than give pain to a Christian brother? Take another case. It may be a mistaken scruple; but there is no doubt that it causes much pain to many Christians to see a carriage used on the Lord's day. But you, with higher views of the spirit of Christianity, who know that "the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath"--who can enter more deeply into the truth taught by our blessed Lord, that every day is to be dedicated to Him and consecrated to His service--upon the high principle of Christian liberty you can use your carriage--you can exercise your liberty. But if there are Christian brethren to whom this would give pain--then I humbly ask you, but most earnestly--What is the duty here? Is it not this--to abridge your Christian liberty--and to go through rain, and mud, and snow, rather than give pain to one Christian conscience? To give one more instance. The words, and garb, and customs of that sect of Christians called Quakers may be formal enough; founded, no doubt, as in the former case, upon a mistaken interpretation of a passage in the Bible. But they are at least harmless; and have long been associated with the simplicity, and benevolence, and Christian humbleness of this body of Christians--the followers of one who, three hundred years ago, set out upon the glorious enterprise of making all men friends. Now would it be Christian, or would it not rather be something more than unchristian--would it not be gross rudeness and coarse unfeelingness to treat such words, and habits, and customs, with anything but respect and reverence? Further: the apostle enjoined this duty upon the Corinthian converts, of abridging their Christian liberty, not merely because it might give pain to indulge it, but also because it might even lead their brethren into sin. For, if any man should eat of the flesh offered to an idol, feeling himself justified by his conscience, it were well: but if any man, overborne by authority or interest, were to do this, not according to conscience, but against it, there would be a distinct and direct act of disobedience--a conflict between his sense of right and the gratification of his appetites, or the power of influence; and then his compliance would as much damage his conscience and moral sense as if the act had been wrong in itself. In the personal application of these remarks, there are three things which we have to say. The first is this:--Distinguish I pray you, between this tenderness for a brother's conscience and mere time-serving. This same apostle whom we here see so gracefully giving way upon the ground of expediency when Christian principles were left entire, was the same who stood firm and strong as a rock when any thing was demanded which trenched upon Christian principle. When some required as a matter of necessity for salvation, that these converts should be circumcised, the apostle says--"To whom we gave place by subjection, no, not for an hour!" It was not indifference--it was not cowardice--it was not the mere love of peace, purchased by the sacrifice of principle, that prompted this counsel--but it was Christian love--that delicate and Christian love which dreads to tamper with the sanctities of a brother's conscience. 2. The second thing we have to say is this--that this abridgement of their liberty is a duty more especially incumbent upon all who are possessed of influence. There are some men, happily for themselves we may say, who are so insignificant that they can take their course quietly in the valleys of life, and who can exercise the fullest Christian liberty without giving pain to others. But it is the price which all who are possessed of influence must pay--that their acts must be measured, not in themselves, but according to their influence on others. So, my Christian brethren, to bring this matter home to every-day experience and common life, if the landlord uses his authority and influence to induce his tenant to vote against his conscience, it may be he has secured one voice to the principle which is right, or at all events, to that which seemed to him to be right: but he has gained that single voice at the sacrifice and expense of a brother's soul. Or again--if for the sake of ensuring personal politeness and attention, the rich man puts a gratuity into the hand of a servant of some company which has forbidden him to receive it, he gains the attention, he ensures the politeness, but he gains it at the sacrifice and expense of a man and a Christian brother. 3. The last remark which we have to make is this:--How possible it is to mix together the vigour of a masculine and manly intellect with the tenderness and charity which is taught by the gospel of Christ! No man ever breathed so freely when on earth the air and atmosphere of heaven as the Apostle Paul--no man ever soared so high above all prejudices, narrowness, littlenesses, scruples, as he: and yet no man ever bound himself as Paul bound himself to the ignorance, the scruples, the prejudices of his brethren. So that what in other cases was infirmity, imbecility, and superstition, gathered round it in his case the pure high spirit of Christian charity and Christian delicacy. And now, out of the writings, and sayings, and deeds of those who loudly proclaim "the rights of man" and the "rights of liberty," match us if you can with one sentence so sublime, so noble, one that will so stand at the bar of God hereafter, as this single, glorious sentence of his, in which he asserts the rights of Christian conscience above the claims of Christian liberty--"Wherefore if meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend." XVII. _Preached May 16, 1852._ VICTORY OVER DEATH. "The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."--1 Cor. xv. 56, 57. On Sunday last I endeavoured to bring before you the subject of that which Scripture calls the glorious liberty of the Sons of God. The two points on which we were trying to get clear notions were these: what is meant by being under the law, and what is meant by being free from the law? When the Bible says that a man led by the Spirit is not under the law, it does not mean that he is free because he may sin without being punished for it, but it means that he is free because being taught by God's Spirit to love what His law commands he is no longer conscious of acting from restraint. The law does not drive him, because the Spirit leads him. There is a state brethren, when we recognize God, but do not love God in Christ. It is that state when we admire what is excellent, but are not able to perform it. It is a state when the love of good comes to nothing, dying away in a mere desire. That is the state of nature, when we are under the law, and not converted to the love of Christ. And then there is another state, when God writes His law upon our hearts by love instead of fear. The one state is this, "I cannot do the things that I would"--the other state is this, "I will walk at liberty; for I seek Thy commandments." Just so far therefore, as a Christian is led by the Spirit, he is a conqueror. A Christian in full possession of his privileges is a man whose very step ought to have in it all the elasticity of triumph, and whose very look ought to have in it all the brightness of victory. And just so far as a Christian suffers sin to struggle in him and overcome his resolutions, just so far he is under the law. And that is the key to the whole doctrine of the New Testament. From first to last the great truth put forward is--The law can neither save you nor sanctify you. The gospel can do both; for it is rightly and emphatically called the perfect law of liberty. We proceed to-day to a further illustration of this subject--of Christian victory. In the verses which I have read out, the Apostle has evidently the same subject in his mind: slavery through the law: victory through the gospel. "The strength of sin," he says, "is the law." God giveth us the victory through Christ. And when we are familiar with St. Paul's trains of thinking, we find this idea coming in perpetually. It runs like a coloured thread through embroidery, appearing on the upper surface every now and then in a different shape--a leaf, it may be, or a flower; but the same thread still, if you only trace it back with your finger. And this was the golden recurring thread in the mind of Paul. Restraint and law cannot check sin; they only gall it and make it struggle and rebel. The love of God in Christ, that, and only that can give man the victory. But in this passage the idea of victory is brought to bear upon the most terrible of all a Christian's enemies. It is faith here conquering in death. And the apostle brings together all the believer's antagonists--the law's power, sin, and death the chief antagonist of all; and then, as it were on a conqueror's battle field, shouts over them the hymn of triumph--"Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." We shall take up these two points to dwell upon. I. The awfulness which hangs round the dying hour. II. Faith conquering in death. That which makes it peculiarly terrible to die is asserted in this passage to be, guilt. We lay a stress upon this expression--the sting. It is not said that sin is the only bitterness, but it is the sting which contains in it the venom of a most exquisite torture. And in truth brethren, it is no mark of courage to speak lightly of human dying. We may do it in bravado, or in wantonness; but no man who thinks can call it a trifling thing to die. True thoughtfulness must shrink from death without Christ. There is a world of untold sensations crowded into that moment, when a man puts his hand to his forehead and feels the damp upon it which tells him his hour is come. He has been waiting for death all his life, and now it is come. It is all over--his chance is past, and his eternity is settled. None of us know, except by guess, what that sensation is. Myriads of human beings have felt it to whom life was dear; but they never spoke out their feelings, for such things are untold. And to every individual man throughout all eternity that sensation in its fulness can come but once. It is mockery brethren, for a man to speak lightly of that which he cannot know till it comes. Now the first cause which makes it a solemn thing to die, is the instinctive cleaving of every thing that lives to its own existence. That unutterable thing which we call our being--the idea of parting with it is agony. It is the first and the intensest desire of living things, to be. Enjoyment, blessedness, everything we long for, is wrapped up in being. Darkness and all that the spirit recoils from, is contained in this idea, not to be. It is in virtue of this unquenchable impulse that the world, in spite of all the misery that is in it, continues to struggle on. What are war, and trade, and labour, and professions? Are they all the result of struggling to be great? No, my brethren, they are the result of struggling _to be_. The first thing that men and nations labour for is existence. Reduce the nation or the man to their last resources, and only see what marvellous energy of contrivance the love of being arms them with. Read back the pauper's history at the end of seventy years--his strange sad history, in which scarcely a single day could ensure subsistence for the morrow--and yet learn what he has done these long years in the stern struggle with impossibility to hold his being where everything is against him, and to keep an existence, whose only conceivable charm is this, that it _is_ existence. Now it is with this intense passion for being, that the idea of death clashes. Let us search why it is we shrink from death. This reason brethren, we shall find, that it presents to us the idea of _not being_. Talk as we will of immortality, there is an obstinate feeling that we cannot master, that we end in death; and _that_ may be felt together with the firmest belief of a resurrection. Brethren, our faith tells us one thing, and our sensations tell us another. When we die, we are surrendering in truth all that with which we have associated existence. All that we know of life is connected with a shape, a form, a body of materialism; and now that that is palpably melting away into nothingness, the boldest heart may be excused a shudder, when there is forced upon it, in spite of itself, the idea of ceasing for ever. The second reason is not one of imagination at all, but most sober reality. It is a solemn thing to die, because it is the parting with all round which the heart's best affections have twined themselves. There are some men who have not the capacity for keen enjoyment. Their affections have nothing in them of intensity, and so they pass through life without ever so uniting themselves with what they meet, that there would be anything of pain in the severance. Of course, with them the bitterness of death does not attach so much to the idea of parting. But my brethren, how is it with human nature generally? Our feelings do not weaken as we go on in life; emotions are less shown, and we get a command over our features and our expressions; but the man's feelings are deeper than the boy's. It is length of time that makes attachment. We become wedded to the sights and sounds of this lovely world more closely as years go on. Young men, with nothing rooted deep, are prodigal of life. It is an adventure to them, rather than a misfortune, to leave their country for ever. With the old man it is like tearing his own heart from him. And so it was that when Lot quitted Sodom, the younger members of his family went on gladly. It is a touching truth; it was the aged one who looked behind to the home which had so many recollections connected with it. And therefore it is, that when men approach that period of existence when they must go, there is an instinctive lingering over things which they shall never see again. Every time the sun sets, every time the old man sees his children gathering round him, there is a filling of the eye with an emotion that we can understand. There is upon his soul the thought of parting, that strange wrench from all we love which makes death (say what moralists will of it) a bitter thing. Another pang which belongs to death, we find in the sensation of loneliness which attaches to it. Have we ever seen a ship preparing to sail with its load of pauper emigrants to a distant colony? If we have we know what that desolation is which comes from feeling unfriended on a new and untried excursion. All beyond the seas, to the ignorant poor man, is a strange land. They are going away from the helps and the friendships and the companionships of life, scarcely knowing what is before them. And it is in such a moment, when a man stands upon a deck, taking his last look of his fatherland, that there comes upon him a sensation new, strange, and inexpressibly miserable--the feeling of being alone in the world. Brethren, with all the bitterness of such a moment, it is but a feeble image when placed by the side of the loneliness of death. We die alone. We go on our dark mysterious journey for the first time in all our existence, without one to accompany us. Friends are beside our bed, they must stay behind. Grant that a Christian has something like familiarity with the Most High, _that_ breaks this solitary feeling; but what is it with the mass of men? It is a question full of loneliness to them. What is it they are to see? What are they to meet? Is it not true, that, to the larger number of this congregation, there is no one point in all eternity on which the eye can fix distinctly and rest gladly--nothing beyond the grave, except a dark space into which they must plunge alone? And yet my brethren, with all these ideas no doubt vividly before his mind, it was none of them that the apostle selected as the crowning bitterness of dying. It was not the thought of surrendering existence. It was not the parting from all bright and lovely things. It was not the shudder of sinking into the sepulchre alone. "The sting of death is _sin_." Now there are two ways in which this deep truth applies itself. There is something that appals in death when there are distinct separate acts of guilt resting on the memory; and there is something too in the possession of a guilty heart, which is quite another thing from acts of sin, that makes it an awful thing to die. There are some who carry about with them the dreadful secret of sin that has been done; guilt that has a name. A man has injured some one; he has made money, or got on by unfair means; he has been unchaste; he has done some of those thousand things of life which leave upon the heart the dark spot that will not come out. All these are sins which you can count up and number. And the recollection of things like these is that agony which we call remorse. Many of us have remembrances of this kind which are fatal to serenity. We shut them out, but it will not do. They bide their time, and then suddenly present themselves, together with the thought of a judgment-seat. When a guilty man begins to think of dying, it is like a vision of the Son of Man presenting itself and calling out the voices of all the unclean spirits in the man--"Art thou come to torment us before the time?" But my brethren, it is a mistake if we suppose that is the common way in which sin stings at the thought of death. Men who have lived the career of passionate life have distinct and accumulated acts of guilt before their eyes. But with most men it is not guilty acts, but guiltiness of heart that weighs the heaviest. Only take yesterday as a specimen of life. What was it with most of us? A day of sin. Was it sin palpable and dark, such as we shall remember painfully this day year? Nay my brethren, unkindness, petulance, wasted time, opportunities lost, frivolous conversation, _that_ was our chief guilt. And yet with all that trifling as it may be, when it comes to be the history of life, does it not leave behind a restless undefinable sense of fault, a vague idea of debt, but to what extent we know not, perhaps the more wretched just because it is uncertain? My Christian brethren, this is the sting of sinfulness, the wretched consciousness of an unclean heart. It is just this feeling, "God is not my friend; I am going on to the grave, and no _man_ can say aught against me, but my heart is not right; I want a river like that which the ancients fabled--the river of forgetfulness--that I might go down into it and bathe, and come up a new man. It is not so much what I have done; it is what I am. Who shall save me from myself?" Oh, it is a desolate thing to think of the coffin when that thought is in all its misery before the soul. It is the sting of death. And now let us bear one thing in mind, the sting of sin is not a constant pressure. It may be that we live many years in the world before a death in our own family forces the thought personally home. Many years before all those sensations which are so often the precursors of the tomb--the quick short cough, lassitude, emaciation, pain--come in startling suddenness upon us in our young vigour, and make us feel what it is to be here with death inevitable to ourselves. And when those things become habitual, habit makes delicacy the same forgetful thing as health, so that neither in sickness, nor in health, is the thought of death a constant pressure. It is only now and then; but so often as death is a reality, the sting of death is sin. Once more we remark, that all this power of sin to agonize, is traced by the Apostle to the law--"the strength of sin is the law;" by which he means to say that sin would not be so violent if it were not for the attempt of God's law to restrain it. It is the law which makes sin strong. And he does not mean particularly the law of Moses. He means any law, and all law. Law is what forbids and threatens; law bears gallingly on those who want to break it. And St. Paul declares this, that no law, not even God's law, can make men righteous in heart, unless the Spirit has taught men's hearts to acquiesce in the law. It can only force out into rebellion the sin that is in them. It is so, brethren, with a nation's law. The voice of the nation must go along with it. It must be the expression of their own feeling, and then they will have it obeyed. But if it is only the law of a government, a law which is against the whole spirit of the people, there is first the murmur of a nation's disapprobation, and then there is transgression, and then, if the law be vindicated with a high hand, the next step is the bursting that law asunder in national revolution. And so it is with God's law. It will never control a man long who does not from his heart love it. First comes a sensation of restraint, and then comes a murmuring of the heart; and last, there comes the rising of passion in its giant might, made desperate by restraint. That is the law giving strength to sin. And therefore brethren, if all we know of God be this, that He has made laws, and that it is terrible to break them; if all our idea of religion be this, that it is a thing of commands and hindrances--Thou shalt, and thou shalt not; we are under the law, and there is no help for it. We _must_ shrink from the encounter with death. We pass to our second subject--Faith conquering in death. And, before we enter upon this topic, there are two general remarks that we have to make. The first is, The elevating power of faith. There is nothing in all this world that ever led man on to real victory but faith. Faith is that looking forward to a future with something like certainty, that raises man above the narrow feelings of the present. Even in this life he is a greater man, a man of more elevated character, who is steadily pursuing a plan that requires some years to accomplish, than he who is living by the day. Look forward but ten years, and plan for it, live for it; there is something of manhood, something of courage required to conquer the thousand things that stand in your way. And therefore it is, that faith, and nothing but faith, gives victory in death. It is that elevation of character which we get from looking steadily and for ever forward, till eternity becomes a real home to us, that enables us to look down upon the last struggle, and the funeral, and the grave, not as the great end of all, but only as something that stands between us and the end. We are conquerors of death when we are able to look beyond it. Our second remark is for the purpose of fixing special attention upon this, that ours is not merely to be victory, it is to be victory through Christ "Thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." Victory brethren, mere victory over death is no unearthly thing. You may get it by infidelity. Only let a man sin long enough, and desperately enough to shut judgment altogether out of his creed, and then you have a man who can bid defiance to the grave. It was so that our country's greatest infidel historian met death. He quitted the world without parade and without display. If we want a specimen of victory apart from Christ, we have it on his death-bed. He left all this strange world of restlessness, calmly, like an unreal show that must go to pieces, and he himself an unreality departing from it. A sceptic can be a conqueror in death. Or again, mere manhood may give us a victory. He who has only learned not to be afraid to die, has not learned much. We have steel and nerve enough in our hearts to dare anything. And after all, it is a triumph so common as scarcely to deserve the name. Felons die on the scaffold like men; soldiers can be hired by tens of thousands, for a few pence a day, to front death in its worst form. Every minute that we live sixty of the human race are passing away, and the greater part with courage--the weak, and the timid, as well as the resolute. Courage is a very different thing from the Christian's victory. Once more brethren, necessity can make man conqueror over death. We can make up our minds to anything when it once becomes inevitable. It is the agony of suspense that makes danger dreadful. History can tell us that men can look with desperate calmness upon hell itself when once it has become a certainty. And it is this after all, that commonly makes the dying hour so quiet a thing. It is more dreadful in the distance than in the reality. When a man feels that there is no help, and he must go, he lays him down to die, as quietly as a tired traveller wraps himself in his cloak to sleep. It is quite another thing from all this that Paul meant by victory. In the first place, it is the prerogative of a Christian to be conqueror over Doubt. Brethren, do we all know what doubt means? Perchance not. There are some men who have never believed enough to doubt. There are some who have never thrown their hopes with such earnestness on the world to come, as to feel anxiety for fear it should not all be true. But every one who knows what Faith is, knows too, what is the desolation of Doubt. We pray till we begin to ask, Is there one who hears, or am I whispering to myself?--We hear the consolation administered to the bereaved, and we see the coffin lowered into the grave, and the thought comes, What if all this doctrine of a life to come be but the dream of man's imaginative mind, carried on from age to age, and so believed, because it is a venerable superstition? Mow Christ gives us victory over that terrible suspicion in two ways--first, He does it by His own resurrection. We have got a fact there that all the metaphysics about impossibility cannot rob us of. In moments of perplexity we look back to this. The grave has once, and more than once, at the Redeemer's bidding, given up its dead. It is a world fact. It tells us what the Bible means by our resurrection--not a spiritual rising into new holiness merely--that, but also something more. It means that in our own proper identity, we shall live again. Make that thought real, and God has given you, so far, victory over the grave through Christ. There is another way in which we get the victory over doubt, and that is by living in Christ. All doubt comes from living out of habits of affectionate obedience to God. By idleness, by neglected prayer, we lose our power of realizing things not seen. Let a man be religious and irreligious at intervals--irregular, inconsistent, without some distinct thing to live for--it is a matter of impossibility that he can be free from doubts. He must make up his mind for a dark life. Doubts can only be dispelled by that kind of active life that realizes Christ. And there is no faith that gives a victory so steadily triumphant as that. When such a man comes near the opening of the vault, it is no world of sorrows he is entering upon. He is only going to see things that he has felt, for he has been living in heaven. He has his grasp on things that other men are only groping after and touching now and then. Live above this world, Brethren, and then the powers of the world to come are so upon you that there is no room for doubt. Besides all this, it is a Christian's privilege to have victory over the fear of death. And here it is exceedingly easy to paint what after all is only the image-picture of a dying hour. It is the easiest thing to represent the dying Christian as a man who always sinks into the grave full of hope, full of triumph, in the certain hope of a blessed resurrection. Brethren, we must paint things in the sober colours of truth; not as they might be supposed to be, but as they are. Often that is only a picture. Either very few death-beds are Christian ones, or else triumph is a very different thing from what the word generally implies. Solemn, subdued, full of awe and full of solemnity, is the dying hour generally of the holiest men: sometimes almost darkness.--Rapture is a rare thing, except in books and scenes. Let us understand what really is the victory over fear. It may be rapture or it may not. All that depends very much on temperament; and after all, the broken words of a dying man are a very poor index of his real state before God. Rapturous hope has been granted to martyrs in peculiar moments. It is on record of a minister of our own Church, that his expectation of seeing God in Christ became so intense as his last hour drew near, that his physician was compelled to bid him calm his transports, because in so excited a state he could not die. A strange unnatural energy was imparted to his muscular frame by his nerves overstrung with triumph. But brethren, it fosters a dangerous feeling to take cases like those as precedents. It leads to that most terrible of all unrealities--the acting of a death-bed scene. A Christian conqueror dies calmly. Brave men in battle do not boast that they are not afraid. Courage is so natural to them that they are not conscious they are doing anything out of the common way--Christian bravery is a deep, calm thing, unconscious of itself. There are more triumphant death-beds than we count, if we only remember this--true fearlessness makes no parade. Oh, it is not only in those passionate effusions in which the ancient martyrs spoke sometimes of panting for the crushing of their limbs by the lions in the amphitheatre, or of holding out their arms to embrace the flames that were to curl round them--it is not then only that Christ has stood by His servants, and made them more than conquerors:--there may be something of earthly excitement in all that. Every day His servants are dying modestly and peacefully--not a word of victory on their lips; but Christ's deep triumph in their hearts--watching the slow progress of their own decay, and yet so far emancipated from personal anxiety that they are still able to think and to plan for others, not knowing that they are doing any great thing. They die, and the world hears nothing of them; and yet theirs was the completest victory. They came to the battle field, the field to which they had been looking forward all their lives, and the enemy was not to be found. There was no Foe to fight with. The last form in which a Christian gets the victory over death is by means of his resurrection. It seems to have been this which was chiefly alluded to by the Apostle here; for he says, "when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption ... _then_ shall come to pass the saying which is written, Death is swallowed up in victory." And to say the truth, brethren, it is a rhetorical expression rather than a sober truth when we call anything, except the resurrection, victory over death. We may conquer doubt and fear when we are dying, but that is not conquering death. It is like a warrior crushed to death by a superior antagonist refusing to yield a groan, and bearing the glance of defiance to the last. You feel that he is an unconquerable spirit, but he is not the conqueror. And when you see flesh melting away, and mental power becoming infantine in its feebleness, and lips scarcely able to articulate, is there left one moment a doubt upon the mind, as to _who_ is the conqueror in spite of all the unshaken fortitude there may be? The victory is on the side of Death, not on the side of the dying. And my brethren, if we would enter into the full feeling of triumph contained in this verse, we must just try to bear in mind what this world would be without the thought of a resurrection. If we could conceive an unselfish man looking upon this world of desolation with that infinite compassion which all the brave and good feel, what conception could he have but that of defeat, and failure, and sadness--the sons of man mounting into a bright existence, and one after another falling back into darkness and nothingness, like soldiers trying to mount an impracticable breach, and falling back crushed and mangled into the ditch before the bayonets and the rattling fire of their conquerors. Misery and guilt, look which way you will, till the heart gets sick with looking at it. Brethren, until a man looks on evil till it seems to him almost like a real personal enemy rejoicing over the destruction that it has made, he can scarcely conceive the deep rapture which rushed into the mind of the Apostle Paul when he remembered that a day was coming when all this was to be reversed. A day was coming, and it was the day of reality for which he lived, ever present and ever certain, when this sad world was to put _off for ever_ its changefulness and its misery, and the grave was to be robbed of its victory, and the bodies were to come forth purified by their long sleep. He called all this a victory, because he felt that it was a real battle that has to be fought and won before that can be secured. One battle has been fought by Christ, and another battle, most real and difficult, but yet a conquering one, is to be fought by us. He hath imparted to us the virtue of His wrestlings, and the strength of His victory. So that, when the body shall rise again, the power of the law to condemn is gone, because we have learned to love the law. And now to conclude all this, there are but two things which remain to say. In the first place, brethren, if we would be conquerors, we must realize God's love in Christ. Take care not to be under the law. Constraint never yet made a conqueror: the utmost it can do is to make either a rebel or a slave. Believe that God loves you. He gave a triumphant demonstration of it in the Cross. Never shall we conquer self till we have learned _to love_. My Christian brethren, let us remember our high privilege. Christian life, so far as it deserves the name, is victory. We are not going forth to mere battle--we are going forth to conquer. To gain mastery over self, and sin, and doubt, and fear: till the last coldness, coming across the brow, tells us that all is over, and our warfare accomplished--that we are safe, the everlasting arms beneath us--_that_ is our calling. Brethren beloved, do not be content with a slothful, dreamy, uncertain struggle. You are to conquer, and the banner under which we are to win is not Fear, but Love. "The strength of sin is the law;" the victory is by keeping before us God in Christ. Lastly, there is need of encouragement for those of us whose faith is not of the conquering, but the timid kind. There are some whose hearts will reply to all this, Surely victory is not always a Christian's portion. Is there no cold dark watching in Christian life--no struggle when victory seems a mockery to speak of--no times when light and life seem feeble, and Christ is to us but a name, and death a reality? "Perfect love casteth out fear," but who has it? Victory is by faith, but, oh God, who will tell us what this faith _is_ that men speak of as a thing so easy; and how we are to get it! You tell us to pray for faith, but how shall we pray in earnest unless we first have the very faith we pray for? My Christian brethren, it is just to this deepest cry of the human heart that it is impossible to return a full answer. All that is true. To feel Faith is the grand difficulty of life. Faith is a deep impression of God and God's love, and personal trust in it. It is easy to say "Believe and thou shalt be saved," but well we know it is easier said than done. We cannot say how men are to _get_ faith. It is God's gift, almost in the same way that genius is. You cannot work _for_ faith; you must have it first, and then work _from_ it. But brethren beloved, we can say, Look up, though we know not how the mechanism of the will which directs the eye is to be put in motion; we can say, Look to God in Christ, though we know not how men are to obtain faith to do it. Let us be in earnest. Our polar star is the love of the Cross. Take the eye off that, and you are in darkness and bewilderment at once. Let us not mind what is past. Perhaps it is all failure, and useless struggle, and broken resolves. What then? Settle this first, brethren, Are you in earnest? If so, though your faith be weak and your struggles unsatisfactory, you may begin the hymn of triumph _now_, for victory is pledged. "Thanks be to God, which" not _shall_ give, but "_giveth_ us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." XVIII. _Preached June 20, 1852._ MAN'S GREATNESS AND GOD'S GREATNESS. "For thus saith the High and Lofty One that inhabiteth Eternity, whose Name is Holy. I dwell in the high and holy place--with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit."--Isaiah lvii. 15. The origin of this announcement seems to have been the state of contempt in which religion found itself in the days of Isaiah. One of the most profligate monarchs that ever disgraced the page of sacred history, sat upon the throne of Judah. His court was filled with men who recommended themselves chiefly by their licentiousness. The altar was forsaken. Sacrilegious hands had placed the abominations of heathenism in the Holy Place; and Piety, banished from the State, the Church, and the Royal court, was once more as she had been before, and will be again, a wanderer on the face of the earth. Now, however easy it may be to contemplate such a state of things at a distance, it never takes place in a man's own day and time, without suggesting painful perplexities of a twofold nature. In the first place suspicions respecting God's character; and, in the second place, misgivings as to his own duty. For a faithless heart whispers, Is it worth while to suffer for a sinking cause? Honour, preferment, grandeur, follow in the train of unscrupulous conduct. To be strict in goodness, is to be pointed at and shunned. To be no better than one's neighbours is the only way of being at peace. It seems to have been to such a state as this that Isaiah was commissioned to bring light. He vindicated God's character by saying that He is "the High and Lofty One that inhabiteth Eternity." He encouraged those who were trodden down, to perseverance, by reminding them that real dignity is something very different from present success. God dwells with him, "that is of a contrite and humble spirit" We consider I. That in which the greatness of God consists. II. That in which man's greatness consists. The first measurement, so to speak, which is given us of God's greatness, is in respect of Time. He inhabiteth Eternity. There are some subjects on which it would be good to dwell, if it were only for the sake of that enlargement of mind which is produced by their contemplation. And eternity is one of these, so that you cannot steadily fix the thoughts upon it without being sensible of a peculiar kind of elevation, at the same time that you are humbled by a personal feeling of utter insignificance. You have come in contact with something so immeasurable--beyond the narrow range of our common speculations--that you are exalted by the very conception of it. Now the only way we have of forming any idea of eternity is by going, step by step, up to the largest measures of time we know of, and so ascending, on and on, till we are lost in wonder. We cannot grasp eternity, but we can learn something of it by perceiving, that, rise to what portion of time we will, eternity is vaster than the vastest. We take up for instance, the history of our own country, and then, when we have spent months in mastering the mere outline of those great events which, in the slow course of revolving centuries, have made England what she is, her earlier ages seem so far removed from our own times that they appear to belong to a hoary and most remote antiquity. But then, when you compare those times with even the existing works of man, and when you remember that, when England was yet young in civilization, the pyramids of Egypt were already grey with 1500 years, you have got another step which impresses you with a doubled amount of vastness. Double that period, and you come to the far distant moment when the present aspect of this world was called, by creation, out of the formless void in which it was before. Modern science has raised us to a pinnacle of thought beyond even this. It has commanded us to think of countless ages in which that formless void existed before it put on the aspect of its present creation. Millions of years before God called the light day, and the darkness night, there was, if science speaks true, creation after creation called into existence, and buried in its own ruins upon the surface of this earth. And then, there was a time beyond even this--there was a moment when this earth itself, with all its countless creations and innumerable ages, did not exist. And, again, in that far back distance it is more than conceivable, it seems by the analogy of God's dealings next to certain, that ten thousand worlds may have been called into existence, and lasted their unnumbered ages, and then perished in succession. Compared with these stupendous figures, 6,000 years of _our_ planet sink into nothingness. The mind is lost in dwelling on such thoughts as these. When you have penetrated far, far back, by successive approximations, and still see the illimitable distance receding before you as distant as before, imagination absolutely gives way, and you feel dizzy and bewildered with new strange thoughts, that have not a name. But this is only one aspect of the case. It looks only to time past. The same overpowering calculations wait us when we bend our eyes on that which is to come. Time stretches back immeasurably, but it also stretches on and on for ever. Now it is by such a conception as this that the inspired prophet attempts to measure the immeasurable of God. All that eternity, magnificent as it is, never was without an Inhabitant. Eternity means nothing by itself. It merely expresses the existence of the High and Lofty One that inhabiteth it. We make a fanciful distinction between eternity and time--there is no real distinction. We are in eternity at this moment. That has begun to be with us which never began with God. Our only measure of time is by the succession of ideas. If ideas flow fast, and many sights and many thoughts pass by us, time seems lengthened. If we have the simple routine of a few engagements, the same every day, with little variety, the years roll by us so fast that we cannot mark them. It is not so with God. There is no succession of ideas with Him. Every possible idea is present with Him now. It was present with Him ten thousand years ago. God's dwelling-place is that eternity which has neither past nor future, but one vast, immeasurable present. There is a second measure given us of God in this verse. It is in respect of Space. He dwelleth in the High and Lofty place. He dwelleth moreover, in the most insignificant place--even the heart of man. And the idea by which the prophet would here exhibit to us the greatness of God is that of His eternal Omnipresence. It is difficult to say which conception carries with it the greatest exaltation--that of boundless space or that of unbounded time. When we pass from the tame and narrow scenery of our own country, and stand on those spots of earth in which nature puts on her wilder and more awful forms, we are conscious of something of the grandeur which belongs to the thought of space. Go where the strong foundations of the earth lie around you in their massive majesty, and mountain after mountain rears its snow to heaven in a giant chain, and then, when this bursts upon you for the first time in life, there is that peculiar feeling which we call, in common language, an enlargement of ideas. But when we are told that the sublimity of those dizzy heights is but a nameless speck in comparison with the globe of which they form the girdle; and when we pass on to think of that globe itself as a minute spot in the mighty system to which it belongs, so that our world might be annihilated, and its loss would not be felt; and when we are told that eighty millions of such systems roll in the world of space, to which our own system again is as nothing; and when we are again pressed with the recollection that beyond those furthest limits creative power is exerted immeasurably further than eye can reach, or thought can penetrate; then, brethren, the awe which comes upon the heart is only, after all, a tribute to a _portion_ of God's greatness. Yet we need not science to teach us this. It is the thought which oppresses very childhood--the overpowering thought of space. A child can put his head upon his hands, and think and think till it reaches in imagination some far distant barrier of the universe, and still the difficulty presents itself to his young mind, "And what is beyond that barrier?" and the only answer is "The high and lofty place." And this brethren, is the inward seal with which God has stamped Himself upon man's heart. If every other trace of Deity has been expunged by the fall, these two at least defy destruction--the thought of Eternal Time, and the thought of Immeasurable Space. The third measure which is given us of God respects His character. His name is Holy. The chief idea which this would convey to us is separation from evil. Brethren, there is perhaps a time drawing near when those of us who shall stand at His right hand, purified from all evil taint, shall be able to comprehend absolutely what is meant by the Holiness of God. At present, with hearts cleaving down to earth, and tossed by a thousand gusts of unholy passion, we can only form a dim conception _relatively_ of that which it implies. None but the pure can understand purity. The chief knowledge which we have of God's holiness comes from our acquaintance with unholiness. We know what impurity is--God is _not_ that. We know what injustice is--God is _not_ that. We know what restlessness, and guilt, and passion are, and deceitfulness, and pride, and waywardness--all these we know. God is none of these. And this is our chief acquaintance with His character. We know what God is _not_. We scarcely can be rightly said to know, that is to feel, what God _is_. And therefore, this is implied in the very name of holiness. Holiness in the Jewish sense means simply separateness. From all that is wrong, and mean, and base, our God is for ever separate. There is another way in which God gives to us a conception of what this holiness implies. Tell us of His justice, His truth, His loving-kindness. All these are cold abstractions. They convey no distinct idea of themselves to our hearts. What we wanted was, that these should be exhibited to us in tangible reality. And it is just this which God has done. He has exhibited all these attributes, not in the light of _speculation_, but in the light of _facts_. He has given us His own character in all its delicacy of colouring in the history of Christ. Love, Mercy, Tenderness, Purity--these are no mere names when we see them brought out in the human actions of our Master. Holiness is only a shadow to our minds, till it receives shape and substance in the life of Christ. All this character of holiness is intelligible to us in Christ. "No man hath seen God at any time, the only begotten of the Father He hath declared Him." There is a third light in which God's holiness is shown to us, and that is in the sternness with which He recoils from guilt. When Christ died for man, I know what God's love means; and when Jesus wept human tears over Jerusalem, I know what God's compassion means; and when the stern denunciations of Jesus rung in the Pharisees' ears, I can comprehend what God's indignation is; and when Jesus stood calm before His murderers, I have a conception of what serenity is. Brethren, revelation opens to us a scene beyond the grave, when this shall be exhibited in full operation. There will be an everlasting banishment from God's presence of that impurity on which the last efforts have been tried in vain. It will be a carrying out of this sentence by a law that cannot be reversed--"Depart from me, ye cursed." But it is quite a mistake to suppose that this is only a matter of revelation. Traces of it we have now on this side the sepulchre. Human life is full of God's recoil from sin. In the writhings of a heart which has been made to possess its own iniquities--in the dark spot which guilt leaves upon the conscience, rising up at times in a man's gayest moments, as if it will not come out--in the restlessness and the feverishness which follow the efforts of the man who has indulged habits of sin too long,--in all these there is a law repelling wickedness from the presence of the Most High,--which proclaims that God is holy. Brethren, it is in these that the greatness of God consists--Eternal in Time--Unlimited in Space--Unchangeable--Pure in character--His serenity and His vastness arise from His own perfections. We are to consider, in the second place, the greatness of man. 1. The nature of that greatness. 2. The persons who are great. Now, this is brought before us in the text in this one fact, that man has been made a habitation of the Deity--"I dwell with him that is of a contrite and humble spirit." There is in the very outset this distinction between what is great in God and what is great in man. To be independent of everything in the universe is God's glory, and to be independent is man's shame. All that God has, He has from Himself--all that man has, He has from God. And the moment man cuts himself off from God, that moment he cuts himself off from all true grandeur. There are two things implied in Scripture, when it is said that God dwells with man. The first is that peculiar presence which He has conferred upon the members of His church. Brethren, we presume not to define what that Presence is, and how it dwells within us--we are content to leave it as a mystery. But this we know, that something of a very peculiar and supernatural character takes place in the heart of every man upon whom the gospel has been brought to bear with power. "Know ye not," says the Apostle, "that your bodies are the temples of the Holy Ghost." And again in the Epistle to the Ephesians--"In Christ ye are builded for an habitation of God through the Spirit." There is something in these expressions which refuses to be explained away. They leave us but one conclusion, and that is--that in all those who have become Christ's by faith, God personally and locally has taken up His dwelling-place. There is a second meaning attached in Scripture to the expression God dwells in man. According to the first meaning, we understand it in the most plain and literal sense the words are capable of conveying. According to the second, we understand His dwelling in a figurative sense, implying this--that He gives an acquaintance with Himself to man. So, for instance, when Judas asked, "Lord, how is it, that Thou wilt manifest Thyself to us and not to the world?" Our Redeemer's reply was this--"If a man love me, he will keep my words, and my Father will love him, and We will come unto him and make Our abode with him." In the question it was asked _how_ God would manifest Himself to His servants. In the answer it was shown _how_ He would make His abode with them. And if the answer be any reply to the question at all, what follows is this--that God making His abode or dwelling in the heart is the same thing exactly as God's manifesting himself to the heart. Brethren, in these two things the greatness of man consists. One is to have God so dwelling in us as to impart His character to us; and the other is to have God so dwelling in us that we recognise His presence, and know that we are His and He is ours. They are two things perfectly distinct To _have_ God in us, this is salvation; to _know_ that God is in us, this is assurance. Lastly, we inquire as to the persons who are truly great. And these the Holy Scripture has divided into two classes--those who are humble and those who are contrite in heart. Or rather, it will be observed that it is the same class of character under different circumstances. Humbleness is the frame of mind of those who are in a state of innocence, contrition of those who are in a state of repentant guilt. Brethren, let not the expression innocence be misunderstood. Innocence in its true and highest sense never existed but once upon this earth. Innocence cannot be the religion of man now. But yet there are those who have walked with God from youth, not quenching the spirit which He gave them, and who are therefore _comparatively_ innocent beings. All they have to do is to go on, whereas the guilty man has to stop and turn back before he can go on. Repentance with them is the gentle work of every day, not the work of one distinct and miserable part of life. They are those whom the Lord calls just men which need no repentance, and of whom He says, "He that is clean needeth not save to wash his feet." Now they are described here as the humble in heart. Two things are required for this state of mind. One is that a man should have a true estimate of God, and the other is that he should have a true estimate of himself. Vain, blind man, places himself on a little corner of this planet, a speck upon a speck of the universe, and begins to form conclusions from the small fraction of God's government which he can see from thence. The astronomer looks at the laws of motion and forgets that there must have been a First Cause to commence that motion. The surgeon looks at the materialism of his own frame and forgets that matter cannot organise itself into exquisite beauty. The metaphysician buries himself in the laws of mind and forgets that there may be spiritual influences producing all those laws. And this brethren, is the unhumbled spirit of philosophy--intellectual pride. Men look at Nature, but they do not look through it up to Nature's God. There is awful ignorance of God, arising from indulged sin, which produces an unhumbled heart. God may be shut out from the soul by pride of intellect, or by pride of heart. Pharaoh is placed before us in Scripture almost as a type of pride. His pride arose from ignorance of God. "Who is the Lord that I should obey His voice? I know not the Lord, neither will I let Israel go." And this was not intellectual pride; it was pride in a matter of duty. Pharaoh had been immersing his whole heart in the narrow politics of Egypt. The great problem of his day was to aggrandise his own people and prevent an insurrection of the Israelites; and that small kingdom of Egypt had been his universe. He shut his heart to the voice of justice and the voice of humanity; in other words, great in the pride of human majesty, small in the sight of the High and Lofty One, he shut himself out from the knowledge of God. The next ingredient of humbleness is, that a man must have a right estimate of himself. There is a vast amount of self-deception on this point. We say of ourselves that which we could not bear others to say of us. A man truly humbled would take it only as his due when others treated him in the way that he says that he deserves. But my brethren, we kneel in our closets in shame for what we are, and we tell our God that the lowest place is too good for us; and then we go into the world, and if we meet with slight or disrespect, or if our opinion be not attended to, or if another be preferred before us, there is all the anguish of a galled and jealous spirit, and half the bitterness of our lives comes from this, that we are smarting from what we call the wrongs and the neglect of men. My beloved brethren, if we saw ourselves as God sees us, we should be willing to be anywhere, to be silent when others speak, to be passed by in the world's crowd, and thrust aside to make way for others. We should be willing to put others in the way of doing that which we might have got reputation for by doing ourselves. This was the temper of our Master--this is the meek and the quiet spirit, and this is the temper of the humble with whom the High and Lofty One dwells. The other class of those who are truly great are the contrite in spirit. At first sight it might be supposed that there must ever be a vast distinction between the innocent and the penitent. It was so that the elder son in the parable thought when he saw his brother restored to his father's favour. He was surprised and hurt. He had served his father these many years--his brother had wasted his substance in riotous living. But in this passage God makes no distinction. He places the humble consistent follower and the broken-hearted sinner on a level. He dwells with both, with Him that is contrite, _and_ with him that is humble. He sheds around them both the grandeur of His own presence, and the annals of Church history are full of exemplifications of this marvel of God's grace. By the transforming grace of Christ men, who have done the very work of Satan, have become as conspicuous in the service of heaven, as they were once conspicuous in the career of guilt. So indisputably has this been so, that men have drawn from such instances the perverted conclusion, that if a man is ever to be a great saint, he must first be a great sinner. God forbid brethren, that we should ever make such an inference. But this we infer for our own encouragement, that past sin does not necessarily preclude from high attainments. We must "forget the things that are behind." We must not mourn over past years of folly as if they made saintliness impossible. Deep as we may have been once in earthliness, so deep we may also be in penitence, and so high we may become in spirituality. We have so many years the fewer to do our work in. Well brethren, let us try to do it so much the faster. Christ can crowd the work of years into hours. He did it with the dying thief. If the man who has set out early may take his time, it certainly cannot be so with _us_ who have lost our time. If we have lost God's bright and happy presence by our wilfulness, what then? Unrelieved sadness? Nay, brethren, calmness, purity, may have gone from our heart; but _all_ is not gone yet. Just as sweetness comes from the bark of the cinnamon when it is bruised, so can the spirit of the Cross of Christ bring beauty and holiness and peace out of the bruised and broken heart. God dwells with the contrite as much as with the humble. And now brethren, to conclude, the first inference we collect from this subject, is the danger of coming into collision with such a God as our God. Day by day we commit sins of thought and word of which the dull eye of man takes no cognisance. He whose name is Holy cannot pass them by. We may elude the vigilance of a human enemy and place ourselves beyond his reach. God fills all space--there is not a spot in which His piercing eye is not on us, and His uplifted hand cannot find us out. Man must strike soon if he would strike at all; for opportunities pass away from him, and his victim may escape his vengeance by death. There is no passing of opportunity with God, and it is this which makes His long suffering a solemn thing. God can wait, for He has a whole eternity before Him in which He may strike. "All things are open, and naked to Him with whom we have to do." In the next place we are taught the heavenly character of condescension. It is not from the insignificance of man that God's dwelling with him is so strange. It is as much the glory of God to bend His attention on an atom as to uphold the universe. But the marvel is that the habitation which He has chosen for Himself is an impure one. And when He came down from His magnificence to make this world His home, still the same character of condescension was shown through all the life of Christ. Our God selected the society of the outcasts of earth, those whom none else would speak to. Brethren, if we would be Godlike, we must follow in the same steps. Our temptation is to do exactly the reverse. We are for ever wishing to obtain the friendship and the intimacy of those above us in the world. To win over men of influence to truth--to associate with men of talent and station, and title. This is the world-chase, and this, brethren, is too much the religious man's chase. But if you look simply to the question of resemblance to God, then the man who makes it a habit to select that one in life to do good to, and that one in a room to speak with, whom others pass by because there is nothing either of intellect, or power, or name, to recommend him, but only humbleness, _that_ man has stamped upon his heart more of heavenly similitude by condescension, than the man who has made it his business to win this world's great ones, even for the sake of truth. Lastly, we learn the guilt of two things of which this world is full--vanity and pride. There is a distinction between these two. But the distinction consists in this, that the vain man looks for the admiration of others--the proud man requires nothing but his own. Now, it is this distinction which makes vanity despicable to us all. We can easily find out the vain man--we soon discover what it is he wants to be observed, whether it be a gift of person, or a gift of mind, or a gift of character. If he be vain of his person, his attitudes will tell the tale. If he be vain of his judgment, or his memory, or his honesty, he cannot help an unnecessary parade. The world finds him out, and this is why vanity is ever looked on with contempt. So soon as we let men see that we are suppliants for their admiration, we are at their mercy. We have given them the privilege of feeling that they are above us. We have invited them to spurn us. And therefore vanity is but a thing for scorn. But it is very different with pride. No man can look down on him that is proud, for he has asked no man for anything. They are forced to feel respect for pride, because it is thoroughly independent of them. It wraps itself up in the consequence of its own excellences, and scorns to care whether others take note of them or not. It is just here that the danger lies. We have exalted a sin into a virtue. No man will acknowledge that he is vain, but almost any man will acknowledge that he is proud. But tried by the balance of the sanctuary, there is little to choose between the two. If a man look for greatness out of God, it matters little whether he seek it in his own applause, or in the applause of others. The _proud_ Pharisee, who trusted in himself that he was righteous, was condemned by Christ as severely, and even more, than the _vain_ Jews who "could not believe because they sought honour from one another, and not that honour which cometh from God only." It may be a more dazzling, and a more splendid sin to be proud. It is not less hateful in God's sight. Let us speak God's word to our own unquiet, swelling, burning hearts. Pride may disguise itself as it will in its own majesty, but in the presence of the High and Lofty One, it is but littleness after all. XIX. _Preached June 27, 1852._ THE LAWFUL AND UNLAWFUL USE OF LAW. (A FRAGMENT.) "But we know that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully."--1 Tim. i. 8. It is scarcely ever possible to understand a passage without some acquaintance with the history of the circumstances under which it was written. At Ephesus, over which Timothy was bishop, people had been bewildered by the teaching of converted Jews, who mixed the old leaven of Judaism with the new spirituality of Christianity. They maintained the perpetual obligation of the Jewish law.--v. 7. They desired to be teachers of the law. They required strict performance of a number of severe observances. They talked mysteriously of angels and powers intermediate between God and the human soul.--v. 4. The result was an interminable discussion at Ephesus. The Church was filled with disputations and controversies. Now there is something always refreshing to see the Apostle Paul descending upon an arena of controversy, where minds have been bewildered; and so much is to be said on both sides, that people are uncertain which to take. You know at once that he will pour light upon the question, and illuminate all the dark corners. You know that he will not trim, and balance, and hang doubtful, or become a partisan; but that he will seize some great principle which lies at the root of the whole controversy, and make its true bearings clear at once. This he always does, and this he does on the present occasion.--v. 5 and 6. He does not, like a vehement polemic, say Jewish ceremonies and rules are all worthless, nor some ceremonies are worthless, and others essential; but he says, the root of the whole matter is charity. If you turn aside from this, all is lost; here at once the controversy closes. So far as any rule fosters the spirit of love, that is, is used lawfully, it is wise, and has a use. So far as it does not, it is chaff. So far as it hinders it, it is poison. Now observe how different this method is from that which is called the sober, moderate way--the _via media_. Some would have said, the great thing is to avoid extremes. If the question respects fasting--fast--only in _moderation_. If the observance of the Sabbath day, observe it on the Jewish principle, only _not so strictly_. St. Paul, on the contrary, went down to the root; he said, the true question is not whether the law is good or bad, but on what principle; he said, you are both wrong--_you_, in saying that the observance of the law is essential, for the end of it is charity, and if _that_ be got what matter _how_--_you_, in saying rules may be dispensed with entirely and always, "for we know that the law is good." I. The unlawful use, and II. The lawful use of law. I. The unlawful use. Define law.--By law, Paul almost always means not the Mosaic law, but law in its essence and principle, that is, constraint. This chiefly in two forms expresses itself--1st, a custom; 2nd, a maxim. As examples of custom, we might give Circumcision, or the Sabbath, or Sacrifice, or Fasting. Law said, thou shalt _do_ these things; and law, as mere law, constrained them. Or again, law may express itself in maxims and rules. In rules, as when law said, "Thou shalt not steal"--not saying a word about secret dishonesty of heart, but simply taking cognizance of _acts_. In maxims, as when it admonished that man ought to give a tenth to God, leaving the principle of the matter untouched. Principle is one thing, and maxim is another. A principle requires liberality, a maxim says one-tenth. A principle says, "A merciful man is merciful to his beast," leaves mercy to the heart, and does not define how; a maxim says, thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out thy corn. A principle says, Forgive; a maxim defines "seven times;" and thus the whole law falls into two divisions. The ceremonial law, which constrains life by customs. The moral law, which guides life by rules and maxims. Now it is an illegitimate use of law. First. To expect by obedience to it to make out a title to salvation. By the deeds of the law, shall no man living be justified. Salvation is by faith: a state of heart right with God; faith is the spring of holiness--a well of life. Salvation is not the having committed a certain number of good acts. Destruction is not the having committed a certain number of crimes. Salvation is God's Spirit in us, leading to good. Destruction is the selfish spirit in us, leading to wrong. For a plain reason then, obedience to law cannot save, because it is merely the performance of a certain number of acts which may be done by habit, from fear, from compulsion. Obedience remains still imperfect. A man may have obeyed the rule, and kept the maxim, and yet not be perfect. "All these commandments have I kept from my youth up." "Yet lackest thou one thing." The law he had kept. The spirit of obedience in its high form of sacrifice he had not. Secondly. To use it superstitiously. It is plain that this was the use made of it by the Ephesian teachers.--v. 4. It seemed to them that _law_ was pleasing to God as restraint. Then unnatural restraints came to be imposed--on the appetites, fasting; on the affections, celibacy. This is what Paul condemns.--ch. iv., v. 8. "Bodily exercise profiteth little." And again, this superstition showed itself in a false reverence--wondrous stories respecting angels--respecting the eternal genealogy of Christ--awful thoughts about spirits. The Apostle calls all these, very unceremoniously, "endless genealogies," v. 4, and "old wives' fables."--ch. iv., v. 7. The question at issue is, wherein true reverence consists: according to them, in the multiplicity of the objects of reverence; according to St. Paul, in the character of the object revered ... God and Right the true object. But you are not a whit the better for solemn and reverential feelings about a mysterious, invisible world. To tremble before a consecrated wafer is spurious reverence. To bend before the Majesty of Right is Christian reverence. Thirdly. To use it as if the letter of it were sacred. The law commanded none to eat the shewbread except the priests. David ate it in hunger. If Abimelech had scrupled to give it, he would have used the law unlawfully. The law commanded no manner of work. The apostles in hunger rubbed the ears of corn. The Pharisees used the law unlawfully, in forbidding that. II. The lawful use of law. 1. As a restraint to keep outward evil in check ... "The law was made for sinners and profane." ... Illustrate this by reference to capital punishment. No sane man believes that punishment by death will make a nation's heart right, or that the sight of an execution can soften or ameliorate. Punishment does not work in that way. It is not meant for that purpose. It is meant to guard society. The law commanding a blasphemer to be stoned, could not teach one Israelite love to God, but it could save the streets of Israel from scandalous ribaldry. And therefore clearly understand, law is a mere check to bad men: it does not improve them; it often makes them worse; it cannot sanctify them. God never intended that it should. It saves society from the open transgression; it does not contemplate the amelioration of the offender. Hence we see for what reason the apostle insisted on the use of the law for Christians. Law never can be abrogated. Strict rules are needed exactly in proportion as we want the power or the will to rule ourselves. It is not because the Gospel has come that we are free from the law, but because, and only so far, as we are in a Gospel state. "It is for a righteous man" that the law is not made, and thus we see the true nature of Christian liberty. The liberty to which we are called in Christ, is not the liberty of devils, the liberty of doing what we will, but the blessed liberty of being on the side of the law, and therefore unrestrained by it in doing right. Illustrate from laws of coining, housebreaking, &c. We are not under them.--Because we may break them as we like? Nay--the moment we desire, the law is alive again to us. 2. As a primer is used by a child to acquire by degrees, principles and a spirit. This is the use attributed to it in verse 5. "The end of the commandment is charity." Compare with this, two other passages--"Christ is the end of the law for righteousness," and "love is the fulfilling of the law." "Perfect love casteth out fear." In every law there is a spirit; in every maxim a principle; and the law and the maxim are laid down for the sake of conserving the spirit and the principle which they enshrine. St. Paul compares God's dealing with man to a wise parent's instruction of his child.--See the Epistle to the Galatians. Boyhood is under law; you appeal not to the boy's reason, but his will, by rewards and punishments: Do this, and I will reward you; do it not, and you will be punished. So long as a man is under law, this is salutary and necessary, but only while under law. He is free when he discerns principles, and at the same time has got, by habit, the will to obey. So that rules have done for him a double work, taught him the principle and facilitated obedience to it. Distinguish however.--In point of time, law is first--in point of importance, the Spirit. In point of _time_, Charity is the "end" of the commandment--in point of _importance_, first and foremost. The first thing a boy has to do, is to learn implicit obedience to rules. The first thing in importance for a man to learn is, to sever himself from maxims, rules, laws. Why? That he may become an Antinomian, or a Latitudinarian? No. He is severed from submission to the _maxim_ because he has got allegiance to the _principle_. He is free from the rule and the law because he has got the Spirit written in his heart. This is the Gospel. A man is redeemed by Christ so far as he is not under the law; he is free from the law so far as he is free from the evil which the law restrains; he progresses so far as there is no evil in him which it is an effort to keep down; and perfect salvation and liberty are--when we,--who though having the first fruits of the Spirit, yet groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, "to wit, the redemption of our body"--shall have been freed in body, soul, and spirit, from the last traces of the evil which can only be kept down by force. In other words, so far as Christ's statement is true of _us_, "The Prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me." XX. _Preached February 21, 1853._ THE PRODIGAL AND HIS BROTHER. "And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found."--Luke xv. 31, 32. There are two classes of sins. There are some sins by which man crushes, wounds, malevolently injures his brother man: those sins which speak of a bad, tyrannical, and selfish heart. Christ met those with denunciation. There are other sins by which a man injures himself. There is a life of reckless indulgence; there is a career of yielding to ungovernable propensities, which most surely conducts to wretchedness and ruin, but makes a man an object of compassion rather than of condemnation. The reception which sinners of this class met from Christ was marked by strange and pitying mercy. There was no maudlin sentiment on his lips. He called sin sin, and guilt guilt. But yet there were sins which His lips scourged, and others over which, containing in themselves their own scourge, His heart bled. That which was melancholy, and marred, and miserable in this world, was more congenial to the heart of Christ than that which was proudly happy. It was in the midst of a triumph, and all the pride of a procession, that He paused to weep over ruined Jerusalem. And if we ask the reason why the character of Christ was marked by this melancholy condescension it is that he was in the midst of a world of ruins, and there was nothing there to gladden, but very much to touch with grief. He was here to restore that which was broken down and crumbling into decay. An enthusiastic antiquarian, standing amidst the fragments of an ancient temple surrounded by dust and moss, broken pillar, and defaced architrave, with magnificent projects in his mind of restoring all this to _former_ majesty, to draw out to light from mere rubbish the ruined glories, and therefore stooping down amongst the dank ivy and the rank nettles; such was Christ amidst the wreck of human nature. He was striving to lift it out of its degradation. He was searching out in revolting places that which had fallen down, that He might build it up again in fair proportions a holy temple to the Lord. Therefore He laboured among the guilty; therefore He was the companion of outcasts; therefore He spoke tenderly and lovingly to those whom society counted undone; therefore He loved to bind up the bruised and the broken-hearted; therefore His breath fanned the spark which seemed dying out in the wick of the expiring taper, when men thought that it was too late, and that the hour of _hopeless_ profligacy was come. It was that feature in His character, that tender, hoping, encouraging spirit of His which the prophet Isaiah fixed upon as characteristic. "A bruised reed will He not break." It was an illustration of this spirit which He gave in the parable which forms the subject of our consideration to-day. We find the occasion which drew it from Him in the commencement of this chapter, "Then drew near unto Him all the publicans and sinners for to hear Him. And the Pharisees and Scribes murmured, saying, This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." It was then that Christ condescended to offer an excuse or an explanation of His conduct. And His excuse was this: It is natural, humanly natural, to rejoice more over that which has been recovered than over that which has been never lost. He proved that by three illustrations taken from human life. The first illustration intended to show the feelings of Christ in winning back a sinner, was the joy which the shepherd feels in the recovery of a sheep from the mountain wilderness. The second was the satisfaction which a person feels for a recovered coin. The last was the gladness which attends the restoration of an erring son. Now the three parables are alike in this, that they all describe more or less vividly the feelings of the Redeemer on the recovery of the lost. But the third parable differs from the other two in this, that besides the feelings of the Saviour, it gives us a multitude of particulars respecting the feelings, the steps, and the motives of the penitent who is reclaimed back to goodness. In the two first the thing lost is a coin or a sheep. It would not be possible to find any picture of remorse or gladness there. But in the third parable the thing lost is not a lifeless thing, nor a mute thing, but a being, the workings of whose human heart are all described. So that the subject opened out to us is a more extensive one--not merely the feelings of the finder, God in Christ, but besides that, the sensations of the wanderer himself. In dealing with this parable, this is the line which we shall adopt. We shall look at the picture which it draws of--1. God's treatment of the penitent. 2. God's expostulation with the saint. God's treatment of the penitent divides itself in this parable into three distinct epochs. The period of alienation, the period of repentance, and the circumstances of a penitent reception. We shall consider all these in turn. The first truth exhibited in this parable is the alienation of man's heart from God. Homelessness, distance from our Father--that is man's state by nature in this world. The youngest son gathered all together and took his journey into a _far_ country. Brethren, this is the history of worldliness. It is a state far from God; in other words, it is a state of homelessness. And now let us ask what that means. To English hearts it is not necessary to expound elaborately the infinite meanings which cluster round that blessed expression "home." Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defence, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule. Let a man travel where he will, home is the place to which "his heart untravelled fondly turns." He is to double all pleasure there. He is there to divide all pain. A _happy home_ is the single spot of rest which a man has upon this earth for the cultivation of his noblest sensibilities. And now my brethren, if that be the description of home, is God's place of rest your home? Walk abroad and alone by night. That awful other world in the stillness and the solemn deep of the eternities above, is it your home? Those graves that lie beneath you, holding in them the infinite secret, and stamping upon all earthly loveliness the mark of frailty and change and fleetingness--are those graves the prospect to which in bright days and dark days you can turn without dismay? God in his splendours,--dare we feel with Him affectionate and familiar, so that trial comes softened by this feeling--it is my Father, and enjoyment can be taken with a frank feeling; my Father has given it me, without grudging, to make me happy? All that is having a home in God. Are we at home there? Why there is demonstration in our very childhood that we are not at home with that other world of God's. An infant fears to be alone, because he feels he is not alone. He trembles in the dark, because he is conscious of the presence of the world of spirits. Long before he has been told tales of terror, there is an instinctive dread of the supernatural in the infant mind. It is the instinct which we have from childhood that gives us the feeling of another world. And mark, brethren, if the child is not at home in the thought of that world of God's, the deep of darkness and eternity is, around him--God's home, but not his home, for his flesh creeps. And that feeling grows through life; not the fear--when the child becomes a man he gets over fear--but the dislike. The man feels as much aversion as the child for the world of spirits. Sunday comes. It breaks across the current of his worldliness. It suggests thoughts of death and judgment and everlasting existence. Is that home? Can the worldly man feel Sunday like a foretaste of his Father's mansion? If we could but know how many have come here to-day, not to have their souls lifted up heavenwards, but from curiosity, or idleness, or criticism, it would give us an appalling estimate of the number who are living in a far country, "having no hope and without God in the world." The second truth conveyed to us in this parable is the unsatisfying nature of worldly happiness. The outcast son tried to satiate his appetite with husks. A husk is an empty thing; it is a thing which looks extremely like food, and promises as much as food; but it is not food. It is a thing which when chewed will stay the appetite, but leaves the emaciated body without nourishment. Earthly happiness is a husk. We say not that there is no satisfaction in the pleasures of a worldly life. That would be an overstatement of the truth. Something there is, or else why should men persist in living for them? The cravings of man's appetite may be stayed by things which cannot satisfy him. Every new pursuit contains in it a new hope; and it is long before hope is bankrupt. But my brethren, it is strange if a man has not found out long before he has reached the age of thirty, that everything here is empty and disappointing. The nobler his heart and the more unquenchable his hunger for the high and the good, the sooner will he find that out. Bubble after bubble bursts, each bubble tinted with the celestial colours of the rainbow, and each leaving in the hand which crushes it a cold damp drop of disappointment. All that is described in Scripture by the emphatic metaphor of "sowing the wind and reaping the whirlwind," the whirlwind of blighted hopes and unreturned feelings and crushed expectations--that is the harvest which the world gives you to reap. And now is the question asked, Why is this world unsatisfying? Brethren, it is the grandeur of the soul which God has given us, which makes it insatiable in its desires--with an infinite void which cannot be filled up. A soul which was made for God, how can the world fill it? If the ocean can be still with miles of unstable waters beneath it, then the soul of man, rocking itself upon its own deep longings, with the Infinite beneath it, may rest. We were created once in majesty, to find enjoyment in God, and if our hearts are empty now, there is nothing for it but to fill up the hollowness of the soul with God. Let not that expression--filling the soul with God--pass away without a distinct meaning. God is Love and Goodness. Fill the soul with goodness, and fill the soul with love, _that_ is the filling it with God. If we love one another, God dwelleth in us. There is nothing else that can satisfy. So that when we hear men of this world acknowledge, as they sometimes will do, when they are wearied with this phantom chase of life, sick of gaieties and tired of toil, that it is not in their pursuits that they can drink the fount of blessedness; and when we see them, instead of turning aside either broken-hearted or else made wise, still persisting to trust to expectations--at fifty, sixty, or seventy years still feverish about some new plan of ambition--what we see is this: we see a soul formed with a capacity for high and noble things, fit for the banquet table of God Himself, trying to fill its infinite hollowness with husks. Once more, there is degradation in the life of irreligion. The things which the wanderer tried to live on were not husks only. They were husks which the swine did eat. Degradation means the application of a thing to purposes lower than that for which it was intended. It is degradation to a man to live on husks, because these are not his true food. We call it degradation when we see the members of an ancient family, decayed by extravagance, working for their bread. It is not degradation for a born labourer to work for an honest livelihood. It is degradation for them, for they are not what they might have been. And therefore, for a man to be degraded, it is not necessary that he should have given himself up to low and mean practices. It is quite enough that he is living for purposes lower than those for which God intended him. He may be a man of unblemished reputation, and yet debased in the truest meaning of the word. We were sent into this world to love God and to love man; to do good--to fill up life with deeds of generosity and usefulness. And he that refuses to work out that high destiny is a degraded man. He may turn away revolted from everything that is gross. His sensuous indulgences may be all marked by refinement and taste. His house may be filled with elegance. His library may be adorned with books. There may be the sounds in his mansion which can regale the ear, the delicacies which can stimulate the palate, and the forms of beauty which can please the eye. There may be nothing in his whole life to offend the most chastened and fastidious delicacy; and yet, if the history of all this be, powers which were meant for eternity frittered upon time, the man is degraded--if the spirit which was created to find its enjoyment in the love of God has settled down satisfied with the love of the world, then, just as surely as the sensualist of this parable, that man has turned aside from a celestial feast to prey on garbage. We pass on to the second period of the history of God's treatment of a sinner. It is the period of his coming to himself, or what we call repentance. The first fact of religious experience which this parable suggests to us is that common truth--men desert the world when the world deserts them. The renegade came to himself when there were no more husks to eat. He would have remained away if he could have got them, but it is written, "no man gave unto him." And this, brethren, is the record of our shame. Invitation is not enough; we must be driven to God. And the famine comes not by chance. God sends the famine into the soul--the hunger, and thirst, and the disappointment--to bring back his erring child again. Now the world fastens upon that truth, and gets out of it a triumphant sarcasm against religion. They tell us that just as the caterpillar passes into the chrysalis, and the chrysalis into the butterfly, so profligacy passes into disgust, and disgust passes into religion. To use their own phraseology, when people become disappointed with the world, it is the last resource they say, to turn saint. So the men of the world speak, and they think they are profoundly philosophical and concise in the account they give. The world is welcome to its very small sneer. It is the glory of our Master's gospel that it _is_ the refuge of the broken-hearted. It is the strange mercy of our God that he does not reject the writhings of a jaded heart. Let the world curl its lip if it will, when it sees through the causes of the prodigal's return. And if the sinner does not come to God taught by this disappointment, what then? If affections crushed in early life have driven one man to God; if wrecked and ruined hopes have made another man religious; if want of success in a profession has broken the spirit; if the human life lived out too passionately, has left a surfeit and a craving behind which end in seriousness; if one is brought by the sadness of widowed life, and another by the forced desolation of involuntary single life; if when the mighty famine comes into the heart, and not a husk is left, not a pleasure untried, then, and not till then, the remorseful resolve is made, "I will arise and go to my Father:"--Well, brethren, what then? Why this, that the history of penitence, produced as it so often is by mere disappointment, sheds only a brighter lustre round the Love of Christ, who rejoices to receive such wanderers, worthless as they are, back into His bosom. Thank God the world's sneer is true. It _is_ the last resource to turn saint. Thanks to our God that when this gaudy world has ceased to charm, when the heart begins to feel its hollowness, and the world has lost its satisfying power, still all is not yet lost if penitence and Christ remain, to still, to humble, and to soothe a heart which sin has fevered. There is another truth contained in this section of the parable. After a life of wild sinfulness religion is servitude at first, not freedom. Observe, he went back to duty with the feelings of a slave: "I am no more worthy to be called thy son, make me as one of thy hired servants." Any one who has lived in the excitement of the world, and then tried to settle down at once to quiet duty, knows how true that is. To borrow a metaphor from Israel's desert life, it is a tasteless thing to live on manna after you have been feasting upon quails. It is a dull cold drudgery to find pleasure in simple occupation when life has been a succession of strong emotions. Sonship it is not; it is slavery. A son obeys in love, entering heartily into his father's meaning. A servant obeys mechanically, rising early because he must; doing it may be, his duty well, but feeling in all its force the irksomeness of the service. Sonship does not come all at once. The yoke of Christ is easy, the burden of Christ is light; but it is not light to everybody. It is light when you love it, and no man who has sinned much can love it all at once. Therefore, if I speak to any one who is trying to be religious, and heavy in heart because his duty is done too formally,--my Christian brother, fear not. You are returning, like the prodigal, with the feelings of a servant. Still it is a real return. The spirit of adoption will come afterwards. You will often have to do duties which you cannot relish, and in which you see no meaning. So it was with Naaman at the prophet's command. He bathed, not knowing why he was bidden to bathe in Jordan. When you bend to prayer, often and often you will have to kneel with wandering thoughts, and constraining lips to repeat words into which your heart scarcely enters. You will have to perform duties when the heart is cold, and without a spark of enthusiasm to warm you. But my Christian brother, onwards still. Struggle to the Cross, even though it be struggling as in chains. Just as on a day of clouds, when you have watched the distant hills, dark and gray with mist, suddenly a gleam of sunshine passing over reveals to you, in that flat surface, valleys and dells and spots of sunny happiness, which slept before unsuspected in the fog, so in the gloom of penitential life there will be times when God's deep peace and love will be felt shining into the soul with supernatural refreshment. Let the penitent be content with the servant's lot at first. Liberty and peace, and the bounding sensations of a Father's arms around you, come afterwards. The last circumstance in this division of our subject is the reception which a sinner meets with on his return to God. "Bring forth the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet, and bring hither the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and be merry." This banquet represents to us two things. It tells of the father's gladness on his son's return. That represents God's joy on the reformation of a sinner. It tells of a banquet and a dance given to the long lost son. That represents the sinner's gladness when he first understood that God was reconciled to him in Christ. There is a strange, almost wild, rapture, a strong gush of love and happiness in those days which are called the days of first conversion. When a man who has sinned much--a profligate--turns to God, and it becomes first clear to his apprehension that there is love instead of spurning for him, there is a luxury of emotion--a banquet of tumultuous blessedness in the moment of first love to God, which stands alone in life, nothing before and nothing after like it. And brethren, let us observe:--This forgiveness is a thing granted while a man is yet afar off. We are not to wait for the right of being happy till we are good: we might wait for ever. Joy is not delayed till we deserve it. Just so soon as a sinful man trusts that the mercy of God in Christ has done away with his transgression, the ring, and the robe, and the shoes are his, the banquet and the light of a Father's countenance. Lastly, we have to consider very briefly God's expostulation with a saint. There is another brother mentioned in this parable, who expressed something like indignation at the treatment which his brother met with. There are commentators who have imagined that this personage represents the Pharisees who complained that Jesus was receiving sinners. But this is manifestly impossible, because his father expostulates with him in this language, "Son, thou, art ever with me;" not for one moment could that be true of the Pharisees. The true interpretation seems to be that this elder brother represents a real Christian perplexed with God's mysterious dealings. We have before us the description of one of those happy persons who have been filled with the Holy Ghost from their mother's womb, and on the whole (with imperfections of course) remained God's servant all his life. For this is his own account of himself, which the father does not contradict. "Lo! these many years do I serve thee." We observe then: The objection made to the reception of a notorious sinner: "Thou never gavest me a kid." Now, in this we have a fact true to Christian experience. Joy seems to be felt more vividly and more exuberantly by men who have sinned much, than by men who have grown up consistently from childhood with religious education. Rapture belongs to him whose sins, which are forgiven, are many. In the perplexity which this fact occasions, there is a feeling which is partly right and partly wrong. There is a surprise which is natural. There is a resentful jealousy which is to be rebuked. There is first of all a natural surprise. It was natural that the elder brother should feel perplexed and hurt. When a sinner seems to be rewarded with more happiness than a saint, it appears as if good and evil were alike undistinguished in God's dealings. It seems like putting a reconciled enemy over the head of a tried servant. It looks as if it were a kind of encouragement held out to sin, and a man begins to feel, Well if this is to be the caprice of my father's dealing; if this rich feast of gladness be the reward of a licentious life, "Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency." This is natural surprise. But besides this there is a jealousy in these sensations of ours which God sees fit to rebuke. You have been trying to serve God all your life, and find it struggle, and heaviness, and dulness still. You see another who has outraged every obligation of life, and he is not tried by the deep prostration you think he ought to have, but bright with happiness at once. You have been making sacrifices all your life, and your worst trials come out of your most generous sacrifices. Your errors in judgment have been followed by sufferings sharper than those which crime itself could have brought. And you see men who never made a sacrifice unexposed to trial--men whose life has been rapture purchased by the ruin of others' innocence--tasting first the pleasures of sin, and then the banquet of religion. You have been a moral man from childhood, and yet with all your efforts you feel the crushing conviction that it has never once been granted you to win a soul to God. And you see another man marked by inconsistency and impetuosity, banqueting every day upon the blest success of impressing and saving souls. All that is startling. And then comes sadness and despondency; then come all those feelings which are so graphically depicted here: irritation--"he was angry;" swelling pride--"he would not go in;" jealousy, which required soothing--"his father went out and entreated him." And now brethren, mark the father's answer. It does not account for this strange dealing by God's sovereignty. It does not cut the knot of the difficulty, instead of untying it, by saying, God has a _right_ to do what He will. He does not urge, God has a right to act on favouritism if He please. But it assigns two reasons. The first reason is, "It was _meet_, right that we should make merry." It is meet that God should be glad on the reclamation of a sinner. It is meet that that sinner, looking down into the dreadful chasm over which he had been tottering, should feel a shudder of delight through all his frame on thinking of his escape. And it is meet that religious men should not feel jealous of one another, but freely and generously join in thanking God that others have got happiness, even if _they_ have not. The spirit of religious exclusiveness, which looks down contemptuously instead of tenderly on worldly men, and banishes a man for ever from the circle of its joys because he has sinned notoriously, is a bad spirit. Lastly the reason given for this dealing is, "Son, thou art always with Me, and all that I have is thine." By which Christ seems to tell us that the disproportion between man and man is much less than we suppose. The profligate had had one hour of ecstasy--the other had had a whole life of peace. A consistent Christian may not have rapture; but he has that which is much better than rapture: calmness--God's serene and perpetual presence. And after all brethren, that is the best. One to whom much is forgiven, has much joy. He must have it, if it were only to support him through those fearful trials which are to come--those haunting reminiscences of a polluted heart--those frailties--those inconsistencies to which the habit of past indulgence have made him liable. A terrible struggle is in store for him yet. Grudge him not one hour of unclouded exultation. But religion's best gift--rest, serenity--the quiet daily love of one who lives perpetually with his Father's family--uninterrupted usefulness--_that_ belongs to him who has lived steadily, and walked with duty, neither grieving nor insulting the Holy Spirit of his God. The man who serves God early has the best of it; joy is well in its way, but a few flashes of joy are trifles in comparison with a life of peace. Which is best: the flash of joy lighting up the whole heart, and then darkness till the next flash comes--or the steady calm sunlight of day in which men work? And now, one word to those who are living this young man's life--thinking to become religious as he did, when they have got tired of the world. I speak to those who are leading what, in the world's softened language of concealment, is called a gay life. Young brethren, let two motives be urged earnestly upon your attention. The first is the motive of mere honourable feeling. We will say nothing about the uncertainty of life. We will not dwell upon this fact, that impressions resisted now, may never come back again. We will not appeal to terror. That is not the weapon which a Christian minister loves to use. If our lips were clothed with thunder, it is not denunciation which makes men Christians; let the appeal be made to every high and generous feeling in a young man's bosom. Deliberately and calmly you are going to do _this_: to spend the best and most vigorous portion of your days in idleness--in uselessness--in the gratification of self--in the contamination of others. And then weakness, the relics, and the miserable dregs of life;--you are going to give _that_ sorry offering to God, because His mercy endureth for ever! Shame--shame upon the heart which can let such a plan rest in it one moment. If it be there, crush it like a man. It is a degrading thing to enjoy husks till there is no man to give them. It is a base thing to resolve to give to God as little as possible, and not to serve Him till you must. Young brethren, I speak principally to you. You have health for God now. You have strength of mind and body. You have powers which may fit you for real usefulness. You have appetites for enjoyment which can be consecrated to God. You acknowledge the law of honour. Well then, by every feeling of manliness and generosity remember this: now, and not later, is your time to learn what religion means. There is another motive, and a very solemn one, to be urged upon those who are delaying. Every moment of delay adds bitterness to after struggles. The moment of a feeling of hired servitude must come. If a man will not obey God with a warm heart, he may hereafter have to do it with a cold one. To be holy is the work of a long life. The experience of ten thousand lessons teaches only a little of it; and all this, the work of becoming like God, the man who delays is crowding into the space of a few years, or a few months. When we have lived long a life of sin, do we think that repentance and forgiveness will obliterate all the traces of sin upon the character? Be sure that every sin pays its price: "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." Oh! there are recollections of past sin which come crowding up to the brain, with temptation in them. There are old habits which refuse to be mastered by a few enthusiastic sensations. There is so much of the old man clinging to the penitent who has waited long--he is so much as a religious man, like what he was when he was a worldly man--that it is doubtful whether he ever reaches in this world the full stature of Christian manhood. Much warm earnestness, but strange inconsistencies, that is the character of one who is an old man and a young Christian. Brethren, do we wish to risk all this? Do we want to learn holiness with terrible struggles, and sore affliction, and the plague of much remaining evil? Then _wait_ before you turn to God. XXI. _Preached May 15, 1853._ JOHN'S REBUKE OF HEROD. "But Herod the tetrarch, being reproved by him for Herodias, his brother Philip's wife, and for all the evils which Herod had done, added yet this above all, that he shut up John in prison,"--Luke iii. 19, 20. The life of John the Baptist divides itself into three distinct periods. Of the first we are told almost nothing, but we may conjecture much. We are told that he was in the deserts till his showing unto Israel. It was a period probably, in which, saddened by the hollowness of all life in Israel, and perplexed with the controversies of Jerusalem, the controversies of Sadducee with Pharisee, of formalist with mystic, of the disciples of one infallible Rabbi with the disciples of another infallible Rabbi, he fled for refuge to the wilderness, to see whether God could not be found there by the heart that sought Him, without the aid of churches, rituals, creeds, and forms. This period lasted thirty years. The second period is a shorter one. It comprises the few months of his public ministry. His difficulties were over; he had reached conviction enough to live and die on. He knew not all, but he knew something. He could not baptize with the Spirit, but he could at least baptize with water. It was not given to him to build up, but it was given to him to pull down all false foundations. He knew that the highest truth of spiritual life was to be given by One that should come after. What he had learned in the desert was contained in a few words--Reality lies at the root of religious life. Ye must be real, said John. "Bring forth fruits meet for repentance." Let each man do his own duty; let the rich impart to those who are not rich; let the publican accuse no man falsely; let the soldier be content with his wages. The coming kingdom is not a mere piece of machinery which will make you all good and happy without effort of your own. Change yourselves, or you will have no kingdom at all. Personal reformation, personal reality, _that_ was John's message to the world. It was an incomplete one; but he delivered it as his all, manfully; and his success was signal, astonishing even to himself. Successful it was, because it appealed to all the deepest wants of the human heart. It told of peace to those who had been agitated by tempestuous passion. It promised forgetfulness of past transgression to those whose consciences smarted with self-accusing recollections. It spoke of refuge from the wrath to come to those who had felt it a fearful expectation to fall into the hands of an angry God. And the result of that message, conveyed by the symbol of baptism, was that the desert swarmed with crowds who owned the attractive spell of the power of a new life made possible. Warriors, paupers, profligates--some admiring the nobleness of religious life, others needing it to fill up the empty hollow of an unsatisfied heart; the penitent, the heart-broken, the worldly, and the disappointed, all came. And with them there came two other classes of men, whose approach roused the Baptist to astonishment. The formalist, not satisfied with his formality, and the infidel, unable to rest on his infidelity--they came too--startled, for one hour at least, to the real significance of life, and shaken out of unreality. The Baptist's message wrung the confession from their souls. "Yes, our system will not do. We are not happy after all; we are miserable. Prophet, whose solitary life, far away there in the desert, has been making to itself a home in the mysterious and the invisible, what hast thou got to tell us from that awful other world? What are we to do?" These things belong to a period of John's life anterior to the text. The prophet has been hitherto in a self-selected solitude, the free wild desert, opening his heart to the strange sights and sounds through which the grand voice of oriental nature speaks of God to the soul, in a way that books cannot speak. We have arrived at the third period of his history. We are now to consider him as the tenant of a _compelled_ solitude, in the dungeon of a capricious tyrant. Hitherto, by that rugged energy with which he battled with the temptations of this world, he has been shedding a glory round human life. We are now to look at him equally alone; equally majestic, shedding by martyrdom, almost a brighter glory round human death. He has hitherto been receiving the homage of almost unequalled popularity. We are now to observe him reft of every admirer, every soother, every friend. He has been hitherto overcoming the temptations of existence by entire seclusion from them all. We are now to ask how he will stem those seductions when he is brought into the very midst of them, and the whole outward aspect of his life has laid aside its distinctive and peculiar character; when he has ceased to be the anchorite, and has become the idol of a court. Much instruction, brethren, there ought to be in all this, if we only knew rightly how to bring it out, or even to paint in anything like intelligible colours the picture which our own minds have formed. Instructive, because human life must ever be instructive. How a human spirit contrived to get its life accomplished in this confused world: what a man like us, and yet no common man, felt, did, suffered; how he fought, and how he conquered; if we could only get a clear possession and firm grasp of _that_, we should have got almost all that is worth having in truth, with the technicalities stripped off, for what is the use of truth except to teach man how to live? There is a vast value in genuine biography. It is good to have real views of what Life is, and what Christian Life may be. It is good to familiarize ourselves with the history of those whom God has pronounced the salt of the earth. We cannot help contracting good from such association. And just one thing respecting this man whom we are to follow for some time to-day. Let us not be afraid of seeming to rise into a mere enthusiastic panegyric of a man. It is a rare man we have to deal with, one of God's heroic ones, a true conqueror; one whose life and motives it is hard to understand without feeling warmly and enthusiastically about them. One of the very highest characters, rightly understood, of all the Bible. Panegyric such as we can give, what is it after he has been stamped by his Master's eulogy, "A prophet? Yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophet. Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist." In the verse which is to serve us for our guidance on this subject there are two branches which will afford us fruit of contemplation. It is written, "Herod being _reproved_ by John for Herodias." Here is our first subject of thought. The truthfulness of Christian character. And then next, he "shut up John in prison." Here is our second topic. The apparent failure of religious life. The point which we have to look at in this section of the Baptist's life is the truthfulness of religious character. For the prophet was now in a sphere of life altogether new. He had got to the third act of his history. The first was performed right manfully in the desert--that is past. He has now become a known man, celebrated through the country, brought into the world, great men listening to him, and in the way, if he chooses it, to become familiar with the polished life of Herod's court. For this we read: Herod observed John, that is, cultivated his acquaintance, paid him marked attention, heard him, did many things at his bidding, and heard him gladly. For thirty long years John had lived in that far-off desert, filling his soul with the grandeur of solitude, content to be unknown, not conscious, most likely, that there was anything supernatural in him--living with the mysterious God in silence. And then came the day when the qualities, so secretly nursed, became known in the great world: men felt that there was a greater than themselves before them, and then came the trial of admiration, when the crowds congregated round to listen. And all that trial John bore uninjured, for when those vast crowds dispersed at night, he was left alone with God and the universe once more. That prevented his being spoilt by flattery. But now comes the great trial. John is transplanted from the desert to the town: he has quitted simple life: he has come to artificial life. John has won a king's attention, and now the question is, Will the diamond of the mine bear polishing without breaking into shivers? Is the iron prophet melting into voluptuous softness? Is he getting the world's manners and the world's courtly insincerity? Is he becoming artificial through his change of life? My Christian brethren, we find nothing of the kind. There he stands in Herod's voluptuous court the prophet of the desert still, unseduced by blandishment from his high loyalty, and fronting his patron and his prince with the stern unpalatable truth of God. It is refreshing to look on such a scene as this--the highest, the very highest moment, I think, in all John's history; higher than his ascetic life. For after all, ascetic life such as he had led before, when he fed on locusts and wild honey, is hard only in the first resolve. When you have once made up your mind to that, it becomes a habit to live alone. To lecture the poor about religion is not hard. To speak of unworldliness to men with whom we do not associate, and who do not see _our_ daily inconsistencies, _that_ is not hard. To speak contemptuously of the world when we have no power of commanding its admiration, _that_ is not difficult. But when God has given a man accomplishments, or powers, which would enable him to shine in society, and he can still be firm, and steady, and uncompromisingly true; when he can be as undaunted before the rich as before the poor; when rank and fashion cannot subdue him into silence: when he hates moral evil as sternly in a great man as he would in a peasant, there is truth in that man. This was the test to which the Baptist was submitted. And now contemplate him for a moment; forget that he is an historical personage, and remember that he was a man like us. Then comes the trial. All the habits and rules of polite life would be whispering such advice as this: "Only keep your remarks within the limits of politeness. If you cannot approve, be silent; you can do no good by finding fault with the great." We know how the whole spirit of a man like John would have revolted at that. Imprisonment? Yes. Death? Well, a man can die but once,--anything but not cowardice,--not meanness,--not pretending what I do not feel, and disguising what I do feel. Brethren, death is not the worst thing in this life; it is not difficult to die--five minutes and the sharpest agony is past. The worst thing in this life is cowardly untruthfulness. Let men be rough if they will, let them be unpolished, but let Christian men in all they say be sincere. No flattery, no speaking smoothly to a man before his face, while all the time there is a disapproval of his conduct in the heart. The thing we want in Christianity is not politeness, it is sincerity. There are three things which we remark in this truthfulness of John. The first is its straightforwardness, the second is its unconsciousness, and the last its unselfishness. The straightforwardness is remarkable in this circumstance, that there is no indirect coming to the point. At once, without circumlocution, the true man speaks. "It is not lawful for thee to have her." There are some men whom God has gifted with a rare simplicity of heart, which make them utterly incapable of pursuing the subtle excuses which can be made for evil. There is in John no morbid sympathy for the offender: "It is not lawful." He does not say, "It is _best_ to do otherwise; it is unprofitable for your own happiness to live in this way." He says plainly, "It is wrong for you to do this evil." Earnest men in this world have no time for subtleties and casuistry. Sin is detestable, horrible, in God's sight, and when once it has been made clear that it is not lawful, a Christian has nothing to do with toleration of it. If we dare not tell our patron of his sin we must give up his patronage. In the next place there was unconsciousness in John's rebuke. We remark, brethren, that he was utterly ignorant that he was doing a fine thing. There was no sidelong glance, as in a mirror, of admiration for himself. He was not feeling, This is brave. He never stopped to feel that after-ages would stand by, and look at that deed of his, and say, "Well done." His reproof comes out as the natural impulse of an earnest heart. John was the last of all men to feel that he had done anything extraordinary. And this we hold to be an inseparable mark of truth. No true man is conscious that he is true; he is rather conscious of insincerity. No brave man is conscious of his courage; bravery is _natural_ to him. The skin of Moses' face shone after he had been with God, but Moses wist not of it. There are many of us who would have prefaced that rebuke with a long speech. We should have begun by observing how difficult it was to speak to a monarch, how delicate the subject, how much proof we were giving of our friendship. We should have asked the great man to accept it as a proof of our devotion. John does nothing of this. Prefaces betray anxiety about self; John was not thinking of himself. He was thinking of God's offended law, and the guilty king's soul. Brethren, it is a lovely and a graceful thing to see men natural. It is beautiful to see men sincere without being haunted with the consciousness of their sincerity. There is a sickly habit that men get of looking into themselves, and thinking how they are appearing. We are always unnatural when we do that. The very tread of one who is thinking how he appears to others, becomes dizzy with affectation. He is too conscious of what he is doing, and self-consciousness is affectation. Let us aim at being natural. And we can only become natural by thinking of God and duty, instead of the way in which we are serving God and duty. There was lastly, something exceedingly unselfish in John's truthfulness. We do not build much on a man's being merely true. It costs some men nothing to be true, for they have none of those sensibilities which shrink from inflicting pain. There is a surly bitter way of speaking truth which says little for a man's heart. Some men have not delicacy enough to feel that it is an awkward and a painful thing to rebuke a brother: they are in their element when they can become censors of the great. John's truthfulness was not like that. It was the earnest loving nature of the man which made him say sharp things. Was it to gratify spleen that he reproved Herod for all the evils he had done? Was it to minister to a diseased and disappointed misanthropy? Little do we understand the depth of tenderness which there is in a rugged, true nature, if we think that. John's whole life was an iron determination to crush self in everything. Take a single instance. John's ministry was gradually superseded by the ministry of Christ. It was the moon waning before the Sun. They came and told him that, "Rabbi, He to whom thou barest witness beyond Jordan baptizeth, and all men come unto Him." Two of his own personal friends, apparently some of the last he had left, deserted him, and went to the new teacher. And now let us estimate the keenness of that trial. Remember John was a man: he had tasted the sweets of influence; that influence was dying away, and just in the prime of life he was to become _nothing_. Who cannot conceive the keenness of that trial? Bearing that in mind--what is the prophet's answer? One of the most touching sentences in all Scripture--calmly, meekly, the hero recognises his destiny--"He must increase, but I must decrease." He does more than recognise it--he rejoices in it, rejoices to be nothing, to be forgotten, despised, so as only Christ can be everything. "The friend of the bridegroom rejoiceth because he heareth the bridegroom's voice, this my joy is fulfilled." And it is _this_ man, with self so thoroughly crushed--the outward self by bodily austerities, the inward self by Christian humbleness--it is this man who speaks so sternly to his sovereign. "It is not lawful." Was there any gratification of human feeling there? Or was not the rebuke unselfish? Meant for God's honour, dictated by the uncontrollable hatred of all evil, careless altogether of personal consequences? Now it is this, my brethren, that _we_ want. The world-spirit can rebuke as sharply as the Spirit which was in John; the world-spirit can be severe upon the great when it is jealous. The worldly man cannot bear to hear of another's success, he cannot endure to hear another praised for accomplishments, or another succeeding in a profession, and the world can fasten very bitterly upon a neighbour's faults, and say, "It is not lawful." We expect that in the world. But that this should creep among religious men, that _we_ should be bitter--that we, _Christians_, should suffer jealousy to enthrone itself in our hearts--that we should find fault from spleen, and not from love--that we should not be able to be calm and gentle, and sweet-tempered, when we decrease, when our powers fail--_that_ is the shame. The love of Christ is intended to make such men as John, such high and heavenly characters. What is our Christianity worth if it cannot teach us a truthfulness, an unselfishness, and a generosity beyond the world's? We are to say something in the second place of the apparent failure of Christian life. The concluding sentence of this verse informs us that John was shut up in prison. And the first thought which suggests itself is, that a magnificent career is cut short too soon. At the very outset of ripe and experienced manhood the whole thing ends in failure. John's day of active usefulness is over; at thirty years of age his work is done; and what permanent effect have all his labours left? The crowds that listened to his voice, awed into silence by Jordan's side, we hear of them no more. Herod heard John gladly, did much good by reason of his influence. What was all that worth? The prophet comes to himself in a dungeon, and wakes to the bitter conviction, that his influence had told much in the way of commanding attention, and even winning reverence, but very little in the way of gaining souls; the bitterest, the most crushing discovery in the whole circle of ministerial experience. All this was seeming failure. And this, brethren, is the picture of almost all human life. To some moods, and under some aspects, it seems, as it seemed to the psalmist, "Man walketh in a vain shadow and disquieteth himself in vain." Go to any churchyard, and stand ten minutes among the grave-stones; read inscription after inscription recording the date of birth, and the date of death, of him who lies below, all the trace which myriads have left behind, of their having done their day's work on God's earth,--that is failure or--seems so. Cast the eye down the columns of any commander's despatch after a general action. The men fell by thousands; the officers by hundreds. Courage, high hope, self-devotion, ended in smoke--forgotten by the time of the next list of slain: that is the failure of life once more. Cast your eye over the shelves of a public library--there is the hard toil of years, the product of a life of thought; all that remains of it is there in a worm-eaten folio, taken down once in a century. Failure of human life again. Stand by the most enduring of all human labours, the pyramids of Egypt. One hundred thousand men, year by year, raised those enormous piles to protect the corpses of the buried from rude inspection. The spoiler's hand has been there, and the bodies have been rifled from their mausoleum, and three thousand years have written "failure" upon that. In all that, my Christian brethren, if we look no deeper than the surface, we read the grave of human hope, the apparent nothingness of human labour. And then look at this history once more. In the isolation of John's dying hour, there appears failure again. When a great man dies we listen to hear what he has to say, we turn to the last page of his biography first, to see what he had to bequeath to the world as his experience of life. We expect that the wisdom, which he has been hiving up for years, will distil in honeyed sweetness then. It is generally not so. There is stupor and silence at the last. "How dieth the wise man?" asks Solomon: and he answers bitterly, "As the fool." The martyr of truth dies privately in Herod's dungeon. We have no record of his last words. There were no crowds to look on. We cannot describe how he received his sentence. Was he calm? Was he agitated? Did he bless his murderer? Did he give utterance to any deep reflections on human life? All that is shrouded in silence. He bowed his head, and the sharp stroke fell flashing down. We know that, we know no more--apparently a noble life abortive. And now let us ask the question distinctly, Was all this indeed failure? No, my Christian brethren, it was sublimest victory. John's work was no failure; he left behind him no sect to which he had given his name, but his disciples passed into the service of Christ, and were absorbed in the Christian church. Words from John had made impressions, and men forgot in after years _where_ the impressions first came from, but the day of judgment will not forget. John laid the foundations of a temple, and others built upon it He laid it in struggle, in martyrdom. It was covered up like the rough masonry below ground, but when we look round on the vast Christian Church, we are looking at the superstructure of John's toil. There is a lesson for us in all that, if we will learn it. Work, true work, done honestly and manfully for Christ, _never_ can be a failure. Your own work, my brethren, which God has given you to do, whatever that is, let it be done truly. Leave eternity to show that it has not been in vain in the Lord. Let it but be work, it will tell. True Christian life is like the march of a conquering army into a fortress which has been breached; men fall by hundreds in the ditch. Was their fall a failure? Nay, for their bodies bridge over the hollow, and over them the rest pass on to victory. The quiet religious worship that we have this day--how comes it to be ours? It was purchased for us by the constancy of such men as John, who freely gave their lives. We are treading upon a bridge of martyrs. The suffering was theirs--the victory is ours. John's career was no failure. Yet we have one more circumstance which _seems_ to tell of failure. In John's prison, solitude, misgiving, black doubt, seem for a time to have taken possession of the prophet's soul. All that we know of those feelings is this:--John while in confinement sent two of his disciples to Christ, to say to Him, "Art thou He that should come, or do we look for another?" Here is the language of painful uncertainty. We shall not marvel at this, if we look steadily at the circumstances. Let us conceive John's feelings. The enthusiastic child of Nature, who had roved in the desert, free as the air he breathed, is now suddenly arrested, and his strong restless heart limited to the four walls of a narrow dungeon. And there he lay startled. An eagle cleaving the air with motionless wing, and in the midst of his career brought from the black cloud by an arrow to the ground, and looking round with his wild, large eye, stunned, and startled there; just such was the free prophet of the wilderness, when Herod's guards had curbed his noble flight, and left him alone in his dungeon. Now there is apparent failure here, brethren; it is not the thing which we should have expected. We should have expected that a man who had lived so close to God all his life, would have no misgivings in his last hours. But, my brethren, it is not so. It is the strange truth that some of the highest of God's servants are tried with darkness on the dying bed. Theory would say, when a religious man is laid up for his last struggles, now he is alone for deep communion with his God. Fact very often says, "No--now he is alone, as his Master was before him, in the wilderness to be tempted of the devil." Look at John in imagination, and you would say, "Now his rough pilgrimage is done. He is quiet, out of the world, with the rapt foretaste of heaven in his soul." Look at John in fact. He is agitated, sending to Christ, not able to rest, grim doubt wrestling with his soul, misgiving for one last black hour whether all his hope has not been delusion. There is one thing we remark here by the way. Doubt often comes from inactivity. We cannot give the philosophy of it, but this is the fact, Christians who have nothing to do but to sit thinking of themselves, meditating, sentimentalising, are almost sure to become the prey of dark, black misgivings. John struggling in the desert needs no proof that Jesus is the Christ. John shut up became morbid and doubtful immediately. Brethren all this is very marvellous. The history of a human soul _is_ marvellous. We are mysteries, but here is the practical lesson of it all. For sadness, for suffering, for misgiving, there is no remedy but stirring and doing. Now look once more at these doubts of John's. All his life long John had been wishing and expecting that the kingdom of God would come. The kingdom of God is Right triumphant over Wrong, moral evil crushed, goodness set up in its place, the true man recognised, the false man put down and forgotten. All his life long John had panted for that; his hope was to make men better. He tried to make the soldiers merciful, and the publicans honest, and the Pharisees sincere. His complaint was, Why is the world the thing it is? All his life long he had been appealing to the invisible justice of Heaven against the visible brute force which he saw around him. Christ had appeared, and his hopes were straining to the utmost. "Here is the Man!" And now behold, here is no Kingdom of Heaven at all, but one of darkness still, oppression and cruelty triumphant, Herod putting God's prophet in prison, and the Messiah quietly letting things take their course. Can that be indeed Messiah? All this was exceedingly startling. And it seems that then John began to feel the horrible doubt whether the whole thing were not a mistake, and whether all that which he had taken for inspiration were not, after all, only the excited hopes of an enthusiastic temperament. Brethren, the prophet was well nigh on the brink of failure. But let us mark--that a man has doubts--_that_ is not the evil; all earnest men must expect to be tried with doubts. All men who feel, with their whole souls, the value of the truth which is at stake, cannot be satisfied with a "perhaps." Why, when all that is true and excellent in this world, all that is worth living for, is in that question of questions, it is no marvel if we sometimes wish, like Thomas, to see the prints of the nails, to know whether Christ be indeed our Lord or not. Cold hearts are not anxious enough to doubt. Men who love will have their misgivings at times; that is not the evil. But the evil is, when men go on in that languid, doubting way, content to doubt, proud of their doubts, morbidly glad to talk about them, liking the romantic gloom of twilight, without the manliness to say--I must and will know the truth. That did not John. Brethren, John appealed to Christ. He did exactly what we do when we pray--and he got his answer. Our Master said to his disciples, Go to my suffering servant, and give him proof. Tell John the things ye see and hear--"The blind see, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, to the poor the Gospel is preached." There is a deep lesson wrapped up in this. We get a firm grasp of truth by prayer. Communion with Christ is the best proof of Christ's existence and Christ's love. It is so even in human life. Misgivings gather darkly round our heart about our friend in his absence; but we seek his frank smile, we feel his affectionate grasp: our suspicions go to sleep again. It is just so in religion. No man is in the habit of praying to God in Christ, and then doubts whether Christ is He "that should come." It is in the power of prayer to realize Christ, to bring him near, to make you feel His life stirring like a pulse within you. Jacob could not doubt whether he had been with God when his sinew shrunk. John could not doubt whether Jesus was the Christ when the things He had done were pictured out so vividly in answer to his prayer. Let but a man live with Christ anxious to have his own life destroyed, and Christ's life established in its place, losing himself in Christ, that man will have all his misgivings silenced. These are the two remedies for doubt--Activity and Prayer. He who works, and _feels_ he works--he who prays, and _knows_ he prays, has got the secret of transforming life-failure into life-victory. In conclusion brethren, we make three remarks which could not be introduced into the body of this subject. The first is--Let young and ardent minds, under the first impressions of religion, beware how they pledge themselves by any open profession to more than they can perform. Herod warmly took up religion at first, courted the prophet of religion, and then when the hot fit of enthusiasm had passed away, he found that he had a clog round his life from which he could only disengage himself by a rough, rude effort. Brethren whom God has touched, it is good to count the cost before you begin. If you give up present pursuits _impetuously_, are you sure that present impulses will last? Are you quite certain that a day will not come when you will curse the hour in which you broke altogether with the world? Are you quite sure that the revulsion back again, will not be as impetuous as Herod's, and your hatred of the religion which has become a clog, as intense as it is now ardent? Many things doubtless there are to be given up--amusements that are dangerous, society that is questionable. What we give up, let us give up, not from quick feeling, but from principle. Enthusiasm is a lovely thing, but let us be calm in what we do. In that solemn, grand thing--Christian life--one step backward is religious death. Once more we get from this subject the doctrine of a resurrection. John's life was hardness, his end was agony. That is frequently Christian life. Therefore, says the apostle, if there be no resurrection the Christian's choice is wrong; "If in this life only we have hope in Christ, then are we of all men most miserable." Christian life is not visible success--very often it is the apparent opposite of success. It is the resurrection of Christ working itself out _in_ us; but it is very often the Cross of Christ imprinting itself on us very sharply. The highest prize which God has to give here is martyrdom. The highest style of life is the Baptist's--heroic, enduring, manly love. The noblest coronet which any son of man can wear is a crown of thorns. Christian, _this_ is not your rest. Be content to feel that this world is not your home. Homeless upon earth, try more and more to make your home in heaven, above with Christ. Lastly we have to learn from this, that devotedness to Christ is our only blessedness. It is surely a strange thing to see the way in which men crowded round the austere prophet, all saying, "Guide us, we cannot guide ourselves." Publicans, Pharisees, Sadducees, Herod, whenever John appears, all bend before him, offering him homage and leadership. How do we account for this? The truth is, the spirit of man groans beneath the weight of its own freedom. When a man has no guide, no master but himself, he is miserable; we want guidance, and if we find a man nobler, wiser than ourselves, it is almost our instinct to prostrate our affections before that man, as the crowds did by Jordan, and say, "Be my example, my guide, my soul's sovereign." That passionate need of worship--hero-worship it has been called--is a primal, universal instinct of the heart. Christ is the answer to it. Men will not do; we try to find men to reverence thoroughly, and we cannot do it. We go through life, finding guides, rejecting them one after another, expecting nobleness and finding meanness; and we turn away with a recoil of disappointment. There is no disappointment in Christ. Christ can be our souls' sovereign. Christ can be our guide. Christ can absorb all the admiration which our hearts long to give. We want to worship men. These Jews wanted to worship man. They were right--man is the rightful object of our worship; but in the roll of ages there has been but one man whom we can adore without idolatry,--the Man Christ Jesus. THE END. _Spottiswoode & Co., Printers, New-street Square, London_ A SELECTION FROM THE NOTICES OF MR. ROBERTSON'S SERMONS, AND OF THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF F.W. ROBERTSON. BY THE REV. STOPFORD A. BROOKE, M.A. [BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, August, 1862.] "For while hapless Englishmen complain in the papers, and in private, in many a varied wail, over the sermons they have to listen to, it is very apparent that the work of the preacher has not fallen in any respect out of estimation. Here is a book which has gone through as great a number of editions as the most popular novel. It bears Mudie's stamp upon its dingy boards, and has all those marks of arduous service which are only to be seen in books which belong to great public libraries. It is thumbed, dog's-eared, pencil-marked, worn by much perusal. Is it then a novel? On the contrary, it is a volume of sermons. A fine, tender, and lofty mind, full of thoughtfulness, full of devotion, has herein left his legacy to his country. It is not rhetoric or any vulgar excitement of eloquence that charms so many readers to the book, so many hearers to this preacher's feet. It is not with the action of a Demosthenes, with outstretched arms and countenance of flame, that he presses his gospel upon his audience. On the contrary, when we read those calm and lofty utterances, this preacher seems seated, like his Master, with the multitude palpitating round, but no agitation or passion in his own thoughtful, contemplative breast. The Sermons of Robertson, of Brighton, have few of the exciting qualities of oratory. Save for the charm of a singularly pure and lucid style, their almost sole attraction consists in their power of instruction, in their faculty of opening up the mysteries of life and truth. It is pure teaching, so far as that ever can be administered to a popular audience, which is offered to us in these volumes." [EDINBURGH CHRISTIAN MAGAZINE.] "They are Sermons of a bold, uncompromising thinker--of a man resolute for the truth of God, and determined in the strength of God's grace to make that truth clear, to brush away all the fine-spun sophistries and half-truths by which the cunning sins of men have hidden it.... There must be a great and true heart, where there is a great and true preacher. And in that, beyond everything else, lay the secret of Mr. Robertson's influence. His Sermons show evidence enough of acute logical power. His analysis is exquisite in its subtleness and delicacy.... With Mr. Robertson style is but the vehicle, not the substitute for thought. Eloquence, poetry, scholarship, originality--his Sermons show proof enough of these to put him on a level with the foremost men of his time. But, after all, their charm lies in the warm, loving, sympathetic heart, in the well-disciplined mind of the true Christian, in his noble scorn of all lies, of all things mean and crooked, in his brave battling for right, even when wrong seems crowned with success, in his honest simplicity and singleness of purpose, in the high and holy tone--as if, amid the discord of earth, he heard clear, though far off, the perfect harmony of heaven; in the fiery earnestness of his love for Christ, the devotion of his whole being to the goodness and truth revealed in him." [CHURCH OF ENGLAND MONTHLY REVIEW.] "It is hardly too much to say, that had the Church of England produced no other fruit in the present century, this work alone would be amply sufficient to acquit her of the charge of barrenness.... The reputation of Mr. Robertson's Sermons is now so wide-spread, that any commendation of ours may seem superfluous. We will therefore simply, in conclusion, recommend such of our readers as have not yet made their acquaintance, to read them carefully and thoughtfully, and they will find in them more deeply suggestive matter than in almost any book published in the present century." [MORNING POST.] "They are distinguished by masterly exposition of Scriptural truths and the true spirit of Christian charity." [BRITISH QUARTERLY.] "These Sermons are full of thought and beauty, and admirable illustrations of the ease with which a gifted and disciplined mind can make the obscure transparent, the difficult plain. There is not a Sermon that does not furnish evidence of originality without extravagance, of discrimination without tediousness, and of piety without cant or conventionalism." [ECLECTIC REVIEW.] "We hail with unaffected delight the appearance of these volumes. The Sermons are altogether out of the common style. They are strong, free, and beautiful utterances of a gifted and cultivated mind. Occasionally, the expression of theological sentiment fails fully to represent our own thought, and we sometimes detect tendencies with which we cannot sympathize: but, taken as a whole, the discourses are fine specimens of a high order of preaching." [GUARDIAN.] "Very beautiful in feeling, and occasionally striking and forcible in conception to a remarkable degree.... Even in the imperfect shape in which their deceased author left them, they are very remarkable compositions." [CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER.] "We should be glad if all preachers more united with ourselves, preached such Sermons as these." [WESTMINSTER REVIEW.] "To those who affectionately remember the author, they will recall, though imperfectly, his living eloquence and his living truthfulness." [GLOBE.] "Mr. Robertson, of Brighton, is a name familiar to most of us, and honoured by all to whom it is familiar. A true servant of Christ, a bold and heart-stirring preacher of the Gospel, his teaching was unlike the teaching of most clergymen, for it was beautified and intensified by genius. New truth, new light, streamed from each well-worn text when he handled it." [BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.] "When teaching of this description keeps the popular ear and secures the general attention, it is unquestionable proof that the office of the preacher has, in no way, lost its hold on the mind of the people. The acceptance of a voice so unimpassioned and thoughtful, so independent of all vulgar auxiliaries, so intent upon bringing every theme it touches to the illustration and sanctifying of the living life of the hour, that which alone can be mended, and purified, and sanctified, is a better tribute to the undying office of the preacher than the success of a hundred Spurgeons. Attention and interest are as eager as ever where there is in reality any instruction to bestow." [LITERARY GAZETTE.] "In earnestness of practical appeal, and in eloquent and graceful diction, Mr. Robertson has few rivals, and these characteristics are sufficient to account for his unusual popularity." [NATIONAL REVIEW.] "A volume of very fine Sermons, quite equal to the previous series." [BRIGHTON EXAMINER.] "There is in the Sermons in this volume the same freshness, vigour of thought and felicity of expression, as characterised whatever Mr. Robertson said." [ECONOMIST.] "Mr. Robertson's Sermons have the great and rare merit of neutralising by a more charitable and affectionate spirit, and by a wider intelligence, all that may appear rigid and _doctrinaire_ in the Church of England. The result seems to have been his special mission: it most fully explains the mind of the man.... We recommend the Sermons to the perusal of our readers. They will find in them thought of so rare and beautiful a description, an earnestness of mind so steadfast in the search of truth, and a charity so pure and all-embracing, that we cannot venture to offer praise, which would be, in this case, almost as presumptuous as criticism." [SATURDAY REVIEW.] "When Mr. Robertson died, his name was scarcely known beyond the circle of his own private friends, and of those among whom he had laboured in his calling. Now, every word he wrote is eagerly sought for and affectionately treasured up, and meets with the most reverent and admiring welcome from men of all parties and all shades of opinion.... To those that find in his writings what they themselves want, he is a teacher quite beyond comparison--his words having a meaning, his thoughts a truth and depth, which they cannot find elsewhere. And they never look to him in vain.... He fixes himself upon the recollection as a most original and profound thinker, and as a man in whom excellence puts on a new form.... There are many persons, and the number increases every year, to whom Robertson's writings are the most stable, satisfactory, and exhaustless form of religious teaching which the nineteenth century has given--the most wise, suggestive, and practical." [BRIGHTON HERALD.] "To our thinking, no compositions of the same class, at least since the days of Jeremy Taylor, can be compared with these Sermons delivered to the congregation of Trinity Chapel, Brighton, by their late minister. They have that power over the mind which belongs only to the highest works of genius: they stir the soul to its inmost depths: they move the affections, raise the imagination, bring out the higher and spiritual part of our nature by the continual appeal that is made to it, and tend to make us, at the same time, humble and aspiring--merciful to others and doubtful of ourselves." [From a SERMON preached at the CONSECRATION of the BISHOP of NORWICH, by the REV. J.H. GURNEY, late of MARYLEBONE.] "I do not commit myself to all his theology; I may differ from the preacher in some things, and listen doubtfully to others. But I know of no modern sermons at once so suggestive and so inspiriting, with reference to the whole range of Christian duty. He is fresh and original without being recondite: plain-spoken without severity; and discusses some of the exciting topics of the day without provoking strife or lowering his tone as a Christian teacher. He delivers his message, in fact, like one who is commissioned to call men off from trifles and squabbles, and conventional sins and follies, to something higher and nobler than their common life: like a man in earnest, too, avoiding technicalities, speaking his honest mind in phrases that are his own, and with a directness from which there is no escape. O that a hundred like him were given us by God, and placed in prominent stations throughout our land!" [GUARDIAN.] "Without anything of that artificial symmetry which the traditional division into heads was apt to display, they present each reflection in a distinct method of statement, clearly and briefly worked out; the sentences are short and terse, as in all popular addresses they should be; the thoughts are often very striking, and entirely out of the track of ordinary sermonising. In matters of doctrine such novelty is sometimes unsafe; but the language is that of one who tries earnestly to penetrate into the very centre of the truth he has to expound, and differs as widely as possible from the sceptic's doubt or the controversialist's mistake. More frequently Mr. Robertson deals with questions of practical life, of public opinion, and of what we may call social casuistry--turning the light of Christian ethics upon this unnoticed though familiar ground. The use of a carriage on Sunday, the morality of feeing a railway porter against his employers' rules, are topics not too small for illustration or application of his lessons in divine truth." [BRIGHTON GAZETTE.] "As an author, Mr. Robertson was, in his lifetime, unknown; for with the exception of one or two addresses, he never published, having a singular disinclination to bring his thoughts before the public in the form of published sermons. As a minister, he was beloved and esteemed for his unswerving fidelity to his principles and his fearless propagation of his religious views. As a townsman, he was held in the highest estimation; his hand and voice being ever ready to do all in his power to advance the moral and social position of the working man. It was not till after his decease, which event created a sensation and demonstration such as Brighton never before or since witnessed, that his works were subjected to public criticism. It was then found that in the comparatively retired minister of Trinity Chapel there had existed a man possessed of consummate ability and intellect of the highest order; that the sermons laid before his congregation were replete with the subtleties of intellect, and bore evidence of the keenest perception and most exalted catholicity. His teaching was of an extremely liberal character, and if fair to assign a man possessed of such a universality of sympathy to any party, we should say that he belonged to what is denominated the 'Broad Church.' We, with many others, cannot agree in the fullest extent of his teaching, but, at the same time, feel bound to accord the tribute due to his genius." [MORNING CHRONICLE.] "A volume of very excellent Sermons, by the late lamented Incumbent of Trinity Chapel, Brighton." [TITAN.] "But the Sermons now under notice are, we venture to say, taking all the circumstances into consideration, the most remarkable discourses of the age.... They are throughout vital with the rarest force, burning with an earnestness perhaps never surpassed, and luminous with the light of genius.... We suspect that even Brighton little knew what a man Providence had placed in its midst." * * * * * On the "_Analysis of Mr. Tennyson's In Memoriam_:"-- [GUARDIAN.] "An endeavour to give, in a few weighty words, the key-note (so to speak) of each poem in the series. Those will best appreciate the amount of success attained by Mr. Robertson who try to do the same work better." * * * * * From a few of the Notices on Mr. Robertson's "_Lecture on the Epistles to the Corinthians_:"-- [MORNING POST.] "It was Mr. Robertson's custom every Sunday afternoon, instead of preaching from one text, to expound an entire chapter of some book in the Scriptures. The present volume is made up from notes of fifty-six discourses of this kind. 'Some people were startled by the introduction of what they called secular subjects into the pulpit. But the lecturer in all his ministrations refused to recognize the distinction so drawn. He said that the whole life of a Christian was sacred--that common every-day doings, whether of a trade, or of a profession, or the minuter details of a woman's household life, were the arenas in which trial and temptation arose; and that therefore it became the Christian minister's duty to enter into this family working life with his people, and help them to understand its meaning, its trials, and its compensations.' It is enough to add that the lectures now given to the public are written in this spirit." [CRITIC.] "Such discourses as these before us, so different from the shallow rhapsodies or tedious hair-splitting which are now so much in vogue, may well make us regret that Mr. Robertson can never be heard again in the pulpit. This single volume would in itself establish a reputation for its writer." [BRIGHTON HERALD.] "... Were there no name on the title-page, the spirit which, shines forth in these lectures could but be recognized as that of the earnest, true-hearted man, the deep thinker, the sympathizer with all kinds of human trouble, the aspirant for all things holy, and one who joined to these rare gifts, the faculty of speaking to his fellow-men in such a manner as to fix their attention and win their love.... In whatever spirit the volume is read--of doubt, of criticism, or of full belief in the truths it teaches--it can but do good; it can but leave behind the conviction that here was a genuine, true-hearted man, gifted with the highest intellect, inspired by the most disinterested motives and the purest love for his fellow-men, and that the fountain at which he warmed his heart and kindled his eloquence was that which flows from Christ." [BRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW.] "This volume will be a welcome gift to many an intelligent and devout mind. There are few of our modern questions, theological or ecclesiastical, that do not come up for discussion in the course of these Epistles to the Christians at Corinth." [MORNING HERALD.] "No one can read these lectures without being charmed by their singular freshness and originality of thought, their earnest, simple eloquence, and their manly piety. There is no mawkish sentiment, no lukewarm, semi-religious twaddle, smacking of the _Record_; no proclamation of party views or party opinions, but a broad, healthy, living, and fervent exposition of one of the most difficult books in the Bible. Every page is full of personal earnestness and depth of feeling; but every page is also free from the slightest trace of vanity and egotism. The words come home to the reader's heart as the utterance of a sincere man who felt every sentence which flowed from his lips." [PRESS.] "One of the most marked features of these lectures is the deep feeling which the preacher had of the emptiness and hollowness of the conventional religionism of the day. The clap-trap of popular ministers, the pride and uncharitableness of exclusive Evangelicalism, the pomp and pretension of ritualism and priestly affectation--the miserable Pharisaism which is lurking underneath them all--form the subject of many strikingly true and often cutting remarks. He has no patience with the unrealities of sectarian purism and pedantic orthodoxy. His constant cry, the constant struggle of his soul is for reality. Hence while his views of objective truth are at times deficient, or, at least, very imperfectly stated, he leaves a deep impress of subjective religion upon the mind, by a style of teaching which, far from uninstructive, is yet more eminently suggestive." [THE SPECTATOR.] "The _Notes on Genesis_--sketches more or less full of lectures on Genesis, delivered by Mr. Robertson--will be welcomed by the many who have read, with a profound interest, those writings of his which have already been given to the world.... Few will be able to read this volume without having brought before them certain passages out of their own lives, which they will be compelled to reconsider from a fresh point of view. As an interpreter of Scripture also, Mr. Robertson nowhere appears to greater advantage. While not ignoring difficult points, he is always looking for, and never fails to find, that which is profitable and edifying." From a few of the Notices on Mr. Robertson's "_The Human Race and other Sermons_." [THE ACADEMY.] "It need not be said that there is here much that is beautiful and happily expressed." [THE BRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW.] "The volume is as fresh and striking and suggestive as any of its predecessors. For unconventional and spiritual conceptions of Bible teachings; for unexpected, penetrating, and practical applications of them, and for general spiritual truth and force, these Sermons and Notes of Sermons are as noble as their predecessors." [THE ENGLISH CHURCHMAN.] "We are glad to see the publication of the eloquent Sermons now before us, especially those of a devout and practical character, such as those on the human race and education." [THE CHRISTIAN WORLD.] "These Sermons exhibit many of those features of unsurpassable excellence which have gained for the preacher a reputation which has had no equal in our time. They are full of thought and suggestiveness, and are marked by that rare beauty of style which Mr. Robertson's readers have learned to associate with all his Sermons. His devoted admirers--and how numerous they are--will be sure to place this new volume upon their shelves." A SELECTION FROM THE NOTICES BY THE PRESS OF "THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF THE LATE REV. F.W. ROBERTSON." [THE SPECTATOR.] "No book published since the 'Life of Dr. Arnold' has produced so strong an impression on the moral imagination and spiritual theology of England as we may expect from these volumes. Even for those who knew Mr. Robertson well, and for many who knew _him_, as they thought, better than his Sermons, the free and full discussion of the highest subjects in the familiar letters so admirably selected by the Editor of Mr. Robertson's _Life_, will give a far clearer insight into his remarkable character and inspire a deeper respect for his clear and manly intellect. Mr. Brooke has done his work as Dr. Stanley did his in writing the 'Life of Arnold,' and it is not possible to give higher praise.... Everyone will talk of Mr. Robertson, and no one of Mr. Brooke, because Mr. Brooke has thought much of his subject, nothing of himself, and hence the figure which he wished to present comes out quite clear and keen, without any interposing haze of literary vapour." [THE CHRISTIAN WORLD.] "The Life of Robertson of Brighton supplies a very unique illustration of the way in which a man may attain his highest fame after he has passed away from earth. There are few who make any pretension to an acquaintance with modern literature who do not know something of Mr. Robertson's works. His sermons are indisputably ranked with the highest sacred classics.... The publication of his 'Life and Letters' helps us to some information which is very precious, and explains much mystery that hangs around the name of the great Brighton preacher. It will be generally admitted that these two volumes will furnish means for estimating the character of Mr. Robertson which are not supplied in any or all of his published works.... There was no artificiality or show about the pulpit production, no half-utterances or whispers of solemn belief; but there was the natural restraint which would be imposed by a true gentleman upon his words when speaking to mixed congregations. Many of us wanted to know how he talked and wrote when the restraint was removed. This privilege is granted to us in these volumes.... There was no romance of scene and circumstance in the life of Frederick Robertson; but there was more than romance about the real life of the man. In some respects it was like the life of a new Elijah.... A more thoughtful, suggestive, and beautiful preacher never entered a pulpit; a simpler and braver man never lived; a truer Christian never adorned any religious community. His life and death were _vicarious_, as he himself might have put it. He lived and died for others, for us all. The sorrows and agonies of his heart pressed rare music out of it, and the experience of a terribly bitter life leaves a wealth of thought and reflection never more than equalled in the history of men." [THE GUARDIAN.] "With all drawbacks of what seem to us imperfect taste, an imperfect standard of character, and an imperfect appreciation of what there is in the world beyond a given circle of interest, the book does what a biography ought to do--it shows us a remarkable man, and it gives us the means of forming our own judgment about him. It is not a tame panegyric or a fancy picture. The main portion of the book consists of Mr. Robertson's own letters, and his own account of himself, and we are allowed to see him, in a great degree at least, as he really was.... It is the record of a genuine spontaneous character, seeking its way, its duty, its perfection, with much sincerity and elevation of purpose, many anxieties and sorrows, and not, we doubt not, without much of the fruits that come with real self-devotion; a record disclosing a man with great faults and conspicuous blanks in his nature." [THE MORNING POST.] "Mr. Brooke has done good service in giving to the world so faithful a sketch of so worthy a man. It would have been a reproach to the Church if this enduring and appropriate memorial had not been erected to one who was so entirely devoted to its service; and the labour of love, for such it evidently was, was committed to no unskilful hands.... Mr. Robertson's epistolary writings--gathered in these valuable volumes--often unstudied, always necessarily from their nature free and unrestrained, but evidencing depth and vigour of thought, clear perception, varied knowledge, sound judgment, earnest piety, are doubtless destined to become as widely known and as largely beneficial as his published Sermons. It is impossible to peruse them without receiving impressions for good, and being persuaded that they are the offspring of no ordinary mind." [THE MORNING HERALD.] "Mr. Brooke has done his own work as a biographer with good sense, feeling, and taste.... These volumes are of real value to all thoughtful readers. For many a year we have had no such picture of a pure and noble and well spent life." [THE ATHEN�UM.] "There is something here for all kinds of readers, but the higher a man's mind and the more general his sympathies, the keener will be his interest in the 'Life of Robertson.'" [THE NONCONFORMIST.] "As no English sermons of the century have been so widely read, and as few leaders of religious thought have exerted (especially by works in so much of an unperfected and fragmentary character) so penetrating and powerful an influence on the spiritual tendencies of the times, we can well believe that no biography since Arnold's will presently be possible to be compared with this, for the interest excited by it in the minds of readers who consciously live in the presence of the invisible and eternal, who feel the pressure of difficult questions and painful experiences, and who seek reality and depth, and freedom in the life and activity of the Church of Christ.... Mr. Brooke has produced a 'Life of Robertson' which will not unworthily compare with Dean Stanley's 'Life of Arnold,' and which, with that, and Ryland's 'Life of Foster,' and the 'Life of Channing,' is likely to be prized as one of the most precious records of genuine manly and godly excellence." [THE MORNING STAR.] "The beautiful work which Mr. Brooke has written contains few, if any, romantic episodes. It is the life of a man who worked hard and died early.... Mr. Brooke has acted wisely in allowing Mr. Robertson to speak so fully for himself, and in blending his letters with his narrative, and arranging them in chronological order. These letters are in themselves a mine of intellectual wealth. They contain little of table-talk or parlour gossip: but they abound with many of his best and most ripened thoughts on multitudes of subjects, political, literary, and scientific, as well as theological. We wish we could present our readers with extracts from them; but even if we had space, it would be unfair to the writer to quote disjointed fragments from a correspondence which now belongs to the literature of the country.... Mr. Brooke has performed his responsible task as a biographer and an editor in a spirit of just and discriminating appreciation, and with admirable ability." LONDON: PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET 
27280	----	[Transcriber's notes: Original spelling and puctuation were retained, including u/v and i/j substitution. Text has been put on the left side of the dividing line and notes on the right to make the plain text version easier to work with. Some of the Latin note text was illegible, many thanks to the Distributed Proofreaders Volunteers who helped look up the references in various internet sources.] THE PRAISE OF A GODLY WOMAN. A Sermon preached at the Solemne Funerall of the Right Honourable Ladie, the Ladie FRANCES ROBERTS, at _Lanhide-rock-Church_ in _Cornwall_ the tenth of August, 1626. By HANNIBALL GAMON, Minister of the word of God, at S^t. _Maugan_ in the same Countie. _1 Cor. 4. 5._ Therefore iudge nothing before the time, vntill the Lord come, who will bring to light the hidden things of darknesse, and will manifest the counsells of the hearts, and then shall euery man haue praise of God. _Galath. 3. 28._ { Neither Iew nor Greek, There is { Neither Bond nor Free, { Neither Male nor Female, for yee are all one in Christ Iesus. S^t. Hierom. Eustoch. _----In seruitute Christi nequaquam Differentia sexuum valet, sed mentium._ Idem ad Principiam. _Non facie vllam inter Sanctas Feminas Differentiam, quod Nonnulli inter Sanctos Viros & Ecclesiarum Principes, stulte facere consueverunt._ LONDON, Printed by _I.H._ for _Iohn Grismond_, and are to be sold at his shop in _Ivie-Lane_ at the signe of the Gunne. 1627. TO THE TRVLY NOBLE IOHN ROBERTS, Son and Heire to the Right Honourable RICHARD _Lord_ ROBERTS of _Truro_: the Vnualuable Riches of sincere Grace here, and of Eternall Glory hereafter. HONOVRABLE SIR, Although it bee true (which a | worthy Diuine[a] obserueth) that | [Note a: M^r. _Bolter_ Disc. of formall Hypocrites are heartned and | true Happinesse, p. 61.] hardned in their lewd courses & | false conceits of happinesse, when | they heare more infamous Sinners | than themselues, gloriously and | flatteringly commended at their | Deaths; yet we need not feare any | such bad effect by the | Funerall-commendation of Gods true | Saints; because the publike | Testimonie of their iust Praises | doth not onely make the wicked more | inexcusable, and the Glory of Gods | Graces shine farre brighter to | Posteritie; but also enkindleth in | the hearts of the godly a greater | fire of Zeale for imitation. These | [Note b: _Psalm. 37. 37. Deut. are some of the Ends, why it hath | 34. 7, 10, 11, 12. Hebr._ 3. 2. & euer been and is still an | 11. cap._] vnreproueable Custome in Gods | Church, that the Godly should be | [Note c: _2 Chron. 32. 33._] _Marked_[b] and _Honoured_[c] at | their Deaths, as _Hezekiah_ was by | all _Iudah_ & _Ierusalem_: | _Valentinean_, _Satyrus_ and | _Theodosius_ by Saint _Ambrose_[A]: | [Note A: _S. Ambr. tom. 3._] _Basil_, _Gregory_ and _Gorgonia_ | by _Nazianzen_[B]: _Nepotian_, | [Note B: _Greg. Nazian._ _Paula_ and _Marcella_ by _S. | { 30. Ierom_[C]. Had not their Holy Liues | _Orat._ { 28. and Happie Deaths beene published | { 25.] by such vnpartiall Pens, wee should | haue bin ignorant now of many | [Note C: _S. Ierom._ excellent Courses of sanctified Men | { _Heliod._ and Women, of many comfortable | { _Eustoch._ workings of the Holy Ghost in them, | _Ad_ { _Princip._ and should haue wanted many | { _Ocean._] inflaming Motiues to follow their | religious steps. Vpon this | [Note d: _Testor Iesum cui illa consideration I was bold to commend | seruiuit & ego seruire cupio, me vnto Gods people the more than | utramq, in part[=e] nihil fingere; Ordinary passages of your | sed quasi Christian[=u] de Honourable Mothers Holy Life and | Christianâ quæ sunt vera proferre, Death: wherein I haue as a | id est, Historiam scribere non Christian spoken the truth of a | Panegyricum. S. Ierom, Epitaph. Christian, that is, (as Saint | Paulæ._] _Ierom_[d] protesteth in a like | case) made a true Narration; not a | Vain-glorious Panegyrick. Let Poets | and Oratours praise those women, | which _Poppæa_-like[e], are graced | [Note e: _Poppæa cuncta alia fuêre with all other things sauing a | præter Honestum animum. Tacit. Gracious Heart: Let them commend | Annal. l. 13._] their Wit, Wealth, Beautie, | Nobilitie, and other Gifts of | Fortune (as they call them) in | stead of Vertues[f]. Wee the | [Note f: _Laudauit ipse Nero apud Ministers of Christ, and Stewards | rostra formam eius & quòd diuinæ of the Mysteries of God, must | formæ parens fuisset, aliaque adorne none with the Honourable | fortunæ munera pro Virtutibus. Id. Attributes of Heauenly Praise; but | Annal. l. 16._] such as are truly beautified, | enriched, and ennobled with the | Purity and Power of Gods Feare in | [Note A: _Esai. 61. 3._] their Humble Soules[A]. This praise | the Lord will Prosper[g], which is | [Note g: _Eccles. 15. 10._] vttered in that _Wisdome_[h], | whereof the _Feare of the Lord is | [Note h: _Prou. 9. 10._] the beginning_. But for the Saints | themselues: I dare say with Saint | [Note i: _Epist. 125._ where S. _Augustine_[i], that they desire | _Augustine_ refuseth to commend more the Imitation, than the | vnto a wicked Husb[=a]d his godly Commendation of their vertues: and | wife that was dead, not onely therefore to tell you the truth (as | because she desired not his praise, the same Father doth his friend) | saying: _Laudem ab hominibus iam you should neuer haue heard mee | illa non quærit, imitationem verò commend this deceased Lady, but in | tu[=a] tantum quærit etiam hope, that Gods Graces in Her might | defuncta, quantum te dilexit etiam by this meanes, suruiue in your | dissimilem viua_; but also because religious Imitation, and not only | her Husband loued Her not, which he in you and all them that are of Her | proueth thus: _Nam utiq si amares, bloud; but also in all them that | cum illa esse post mortem haue heard or shall reade this | desiderares, quod profectò non Sermon. This is all the gaine I | eris, si quàlis es, talis eris._] looke and pray for, that Gods[k] | word, which I haue faithfully | [Note k: _Ier. 23. 22, 28. 1 Pet. alledged (not without some | 4. 11. Tit. 2. 8. 2 Tim. 2. Illustrations (I confesse) borrowed | 15. 1 Tim. 4. 13. & 6. 3._] from the holy Fathers[l], whereof I | need not to be ashamed) may be | [Note l: _--Ingenuo pudore qui constantly practised by vs all. For | ornabat ætatem, quid cuius esset, when all is done and said, assure | confiteri ... Illud (aiebat) your selfe (Deare Sir) it is only | Tertulliani, istud Cypriani, hoc the Life of Grace, the Grace of the | Lactantij, illud Hilarij est. Sic _Feare of the Lord_ can truly | Minutius Foelix, ita Victorinus, in Honour you, or any vpon earth, | hunc modum est locutus Arnobius. S. sweetly comfort you at your Death, | Ierom. ad Heliodor de Nepotian._] and eternally Glorifie your Soule | and Bodie in Heauen. Abandon then I | beseech you in the name of | Christ[m], all iniquitie, and all | [Note m: _2 Thess. 3. 6. 2 Tim. workers of iniquitie, yea abominate | 2. 19. Prou. 4. 14. 1 Cor. 5. the sweetest sin, to which your | 11. Ephes. 5. 11. Psalm. 26. youthfull affections are most | 4, 5. & 119. 32, 36, 128. 2 endeared, else you will neuer be | Chron. 19. 2. & 20. 37._] able to encline and enlarge them | to the pursuit and practise of so | excellent and Glorious a Grace as | the _Feare of the Lord_; because | this godly Feare and the impenitent | Allowance of any lust, is as | incompatible as Heauen and Hell: so | that if you should hate to be | diuorced from your Bosome-sin | whatsoeuer it be (which God forbid) | you could haue no true right and | interest to the precious promises | of this and of that other life[n]. | [Note n: _1 Tim. 4. 8._] Thinke on this continually, and | hold it your greatest Honour, the | Noblest imployment of your Soule, | as it is indeed, to keep your selfe | (as a King[o] did before you.) from | [Note o: _Psal. 18. 23._] your iniquitie. _Quod si tu (quod | procul absit) nolueris, ego liber | ero. Epistola, immo concio me hæc | mea, cum lecta fuerit, | absoluet._[p] And so I rest, being | [Note p: _S. Ierom. ad Castorin. mindfull of your Vertues, | Materteram._] | | _Saint Mauganthe 19. August 1626._ _Yours in all Christian Deuotion, and heartiest prayer to God for you,_ HANNIBAL GAMON. THE PRAISE OF A Godly Woman. PROV. 31. 30. _--But a woman that feareth the Lord, shee shall be praised._ Praise is a Debt (saith _Gregory | Nazianzen_[a]) and it must be paid, | [Note a: _Orat. 25. fol. 439. Rom. not to men alone, but to women | 13. 7, 8._] also; yet not to euery woman, be | shee neuer so noble, wittie, | [Note: The Diuision.] wealthy or faire[b], vnlesse she be | godly withall: For _fauour is | [Note b: _Non possumus reprehendere deceitfull, and beautie is vaine; | diuini artificis opus; sed quem but a woman that feareth the Lord, | delectat corporis pulchritudo, shee shall be praised_. | multo magis illa delectet venustas, | quæ ad imaginem, Dei est intus, non A promise this is and affirmatiue, | foris comptior. S. Ambr. Instit. and an affirmatiue promise hath two | Virg. c. 4. Prou. 11. 22. Eccle. parts in it. The first is the | 11. 2. ... Homo igitur mihi non tam Partie to whom it is made, and shee | vultu quam affectu admirand^s is _Muliertimens Dominum_. _A woman | emineat atque excellat: vt in his that feareth the Lord_, which is | laudatur, in quibus etiam Deus also the reason why she shall be | prophetico iudicio laudatur de quo praised: euen because she is _a | scriptum est Psal. 66. 5. woman fearing the Lord_. The second | Terribilis in consiliis super is the thing promised, and that is | filios hominum; cuius opera coram _Laudabitur, she shall be praised_. | Deo luceant, qui bona iugibus | operibus facta contexat. Id. ib. | cap. 3._] In the former, it is not enough | that she is a woman, because | [Note I.] euery woman is not _Timens_, one | that _Feareth_, nor sufficient that | [Note c: _Naturale vocabul[=u] est she _Feareth_; because euery woman | Foemina. naturalis vocabuli that feareth is not _Timens | generale, Mulier.--Tert. de Virg. Dominum_, one _that feareth the | Veland. cap 4._] Lord_; but _she_ that _shall be | praised_, is all three. 1. A woman | [Note d: _Aliud est Timere by nature[c], where the weaker her | simpliciter, aliud Timere sex is, the more shee shall be | Deum----quippe timere & amare commended. 2. By Grace[d], _a woman | simpliciter prolata, affectione: that feareth_, where the continuall | cu^m additamento aute virtutes act of this Fearing is required. 3. | signific[=a]t. Simplices nempe _That feareth the Lord_, where the | affectiones insunt naturaliter right Obiect of her continuall | nobis tanquam ex nobis, Additamenta feare is limited. | ex Gratiâ. S. Bern. de Grat. & lib. | Arb._] And in the latter we are to | consider; First, to what matters, | [Note II.] _Laudabitur_, her praise will | reach, and in what respect to | _Ipsa_ Her person. Then secondly, | When _she shall be praised_; not | for the present, perhaps, no more | than she hath beene heretofore; yet | _Laudabitur_, the time will come | when _she shall be praised_, and | then too her praise shall so be, | that it shall be still. Thirdly, of | whom shee shall haue praise, for | _Laudabitur_ is an action, and must | bee done of some agent, therefore | we must finde who shal praise her, | and they will fall out to be her | Husband and her Children (if she | haue them[e]) and if they faile in | [Note e: _Mulier enim no naturâ this dutie, then the godly shall | nomen est vxoris, sed vxor praise her; and if they cease to | coditione nomen est mulieris. Tert. doe it, then her own workes shall | ib. c. 5. Gen. 2. 23. Hæc vocabitur praise her, yea rather than faile, | mulier, quoniam de viro suo sumpta God himselfe shall praise her, | est: Quia sumpta est (inquit) de which is best of all. So sure she | viro suo, non quia virum experta is to be praised, not for the | ... Non enim corruptelæ, sed sexus present onely, but for euer. And so | vocabulum est. Gal. 4. 4. Luke 1. this Text besides that it is a | 28. S. Ambr. ibid. c. 5._] _Promise_, it is also a _Motiue_ to | stirre vs vp to feare God, that so | [Note: A Promise, and Motiue.] we also may haue true and eternall | praise of God. It is both, and | [Note: _I. The partie that shall be both waies wee to haue vse of it, | praised._] as of a _Promise_, and as of a | _Motiue_: both these waies at once; | _A woman that feareth the Lord she | shall be praised._ | | A weake sex[f] to beginne with, and | [Note f: _1 Pet. 3. 7. Ier. 50. yet being strengthned by Grace[g], | 37. Nah. 3. 13. Gal. 3. 27, 28._] no impediment; but that a woman as | wel as a man may feare the Lord, | [Note g: _--Ex parte natura (nisi and haue praise of him, and so | sit fortitude maioris gratiæ) become the partie who shall, and | faciliùs incarnatur ad malum sexus one Reason too, why _shee shall be | formineus. Bonau. L. 2. d. 21. q. praised_. | 3. p. 18._] | For a woman must be more good than | nature, art, policie, preferment | can make her, else shee is not good | enough for Gods Spirit to praise | her. He commends neither men nor | women considered in their pure | Naturalls only, in that estate of | corruption, they all heare alike to | [Note h: _Rom. 3. 9._] their disgrace, that they are _All | vnder sinne[h]_, _All come[i] short | [Note i: _Rom. 3. 23._] of the glory of God_, and are _All | the children of[k] wrath_, because | [Note k: _Ephes. 2. 3._] they _Are without all feare of | God_[l] | [Note l: _Rom. 3. 18._] | By nature then both sexes are alike | faultie, alike disc[=o]mendable in | Gods sight, and so they should be | in ours. We should not dispraise | women more than men, for the sex | sake only (as some doe[m]) because | [Note m: _Eurip. Plutarc. de they haue as noble soules as men, | Tranquilit Mulier quantibuis proba, for[n] soules haue no sexes, (as | Mulier tamen est._] Saint _Ambrose_ saith) nor praise | women for the endowments of the | [Note n: _Anima enim sexum non flesh onely (as othersome doe[o]) | habet.--De Virg. som. 1. lib: 3. vnlesse they be adorned also with | fol. 99._] the sauing Graces of the Spirit, | whereof a chiefe one is not noble | [Note o: _Cornel. Agrip. de birth, great wealth, excellent wit, | Nobilit. foeminei sexus. Bocacius or rare beautie: but _the feare of | de claris mulieribus._] the Lord_, his treasure.[A] This | godly feare is that, that makes a | [Note A: _Es. 33. 6._] Woman in relation[p] to God, | praise-worthy. And good reason it | [Note p: _Caiet. in. loc._] should do so, if we regard the | weaknesse of a woman, in whom so | excellent a Grace as _the feare of | the Lord_, is found, and the | Noblenesse of fearing the Lord, | being so found. | | First, a womans weaknesse is | naturally[q] greater than the mans, | [Note q: _Naturaliter etiam maior and therefore by how much her flesh | lucti est inter carnem et is weaker, and her spirit lesse | spirit[=u] mulieris quam viri: willing, by so much the combate she | quantò enim caro eius infirmior, & hath, is more difficult, and the | spiritus minus promptus, tãtò pugna victory she gets, more commendable. | dissicilior--& victoria I know a man (_Blesensis_ by name) | comm[=e]dabilior. Pet. Bles. ser. that thought two things should | 33. p. 420. Timeo autem ne fortè excuse him at the dreadfull day of | viri à virginibus iudicentur: iudgement, the Frailty of his | Comparatione tam[=e] non flesh, and the Ignorance of his | Auctoritate: quia per duo tantum minde; but then he feared lest God | scilicet: per Fragilitat[=e] carnis would iudge men by wom[=e], whose | & Ignorantiam mentis putobã, &c. sex being more fraile, more | ser. 35. p. 428._] ignorant than that of mens, were | for all that oftentimes more holy, | more deuout than many men. | | Secondly, the _Feare of the Lord_ | is the truest Nobilitie (as | _Gerson_[r] proues) the noblest | [Note r: _Tractat. de Nobilitate, grace that can ennoble and extoll a | part. 2. p. 52. lit. E. Et Greg. man or a woman. Other naturall, | Naz. Orat. 13. tom. I. fol. 352._] ciuill, and meerely morall | excellencies, perfections, and | endowments a woman may haue, nay | (which is neerest the point) other | kindes of Feare she may haue, and | [Note B: _2 Kings 9. 34. Act. 14. yet be base, seruile, cursed as | 25. 1 Ioh. 4. 18._] _Iezebel_[B], not praise-worthy, as | namely, if she feare men[C], or | [Note C: _Matth. 10. 28. Es. 51. what else besides more than God, or | 12._] not for God (as Saint _Bernard_[s] | limits) or if shee feare God as a | [Note s: _Convertatur ad ipsum Iudge, in respect of his | etiam Timor tuus, quia peruersus punishments only[t], & not as a | est timor omnis, quo metuis aliquid Father for loue of his goodnesse, | præter eum aut non propter eum. S. and from an hatred of wickednesse, | Ber. in cap. Ieiun. ser. 2._] or if she haue cast off the feare | of the Lord, which shee hath seemed | [Note t: _Quid magn[=u] est, to haue, or if shee puts off his | poen[=a] timere? Quis enim n[=o] _Feare_ from time to time, and | timet? quis Latro, quis sceleratus, continues not in it. | quis nefarius? &c. S. August. de | Verb. Apost. ser. 15. fol. 332. Looke we then first to the Obiect | tom. 10._] of the _Laudable womans feare_, | that he whom she feareth be the | [Note: I. _The Obiect of her Lord, in respect of his Mercy and | feare._] Iustice both; then to the | continuall employment of her | _Feare_, not one that hath feared | him, or will feare him; but one | that doth feare him for the | present, and continueth therein, | else shee is not a woman _Timens | Dominum_, _Fearing the Lord_, and | so not worthy to be _praised_. | | First then (that the Obiect may be | right) the [u]_Lord is her feare_, | [Note u: _Deut. 10. 12. 2 King. who shal be praised. For if He be | 17. 36. Luk. 12. 5. Es. 8. 13. not, all exquisitenesses besides | Mal. 1. 6._] are nothing in comparison; and if | He be, all sufficiencies | [Note x: _Loquacitas in (remarkable in that sex) are | ædificatione nulla turpis, si improued, and all Duties | quando turpis. Itaque si de aliquo (obserueable in the feare of the | bono sermo est, res postulat Lord) are practised. To see this | contrarium quoque boni recensere. the better, let vs follow | Quid enim sectandum sit, magis _Tertullians_[x] rule, and oppose | illummabis, si quod vitand[=u] sit, one against another, a vessell of | proinde digesseris. Tertul. de dishonour against a vessell of | Patien. c. 5. tom. 2._] honour, a woman not Fearing, | against a woman Fearing the Lord. | [Note: _A wom[=a] fearlesse of | God._] She that fears not the Lord, sets | light by Gods anger and her | [Note y: _Esth. 1. 12, 17, 20, 22. Husbands[y], not caring whether | Eccl. 26. 26. Es. 36. 9. & 3. they bee pleased or displeased. | 16. Prou. 30. 33. Eccles. 25. Shee neglects to plant the feare of | 13. & alibi passim. Vbi verò timor the Lord in her childrens hearts, | Dei non est, ibi dissolutio vitæ chusing rather to be an example of | est. S. Aug. de Temp. ser. 213. wickednesse vnto them, and to | tom. 10._] misplace them in mariage for | sinister respects. She brings want | of things necessary to her family | by her wastefulnesse, brauery, and | idlenesse. She contemnes her | naturall and legall kindred, lifts | vp her selfe aboue her equalls, | disdaines her inferiours, | dishonours her place by an | ouer-loftie or an ouer-base and | contemptible behauiour in the same. | She alienates the hearts of Gods | people from her, by neglecting the | offices of courtesies and | helpfulnesse. She declines and | vnderualewes the most searching | meanes of Saluation, the Word, | Prayer, Conference, Repentance, | Meditation, Sacraments; in a word | (according to Saint _Ambroses_[z] | [Note z: _Aliud est timere quia Distinction) she feares hell | peccaueris, aliud timere ne pecces. torments, because shee hath sinned, | Et ibi est formido de supplicio, but shee feares not Gods | hic solicitudo de præmio. Epist. displeasure, lest she should sinne, | 84. tum. 3. Est quem timor Dei and therefore shee liues and dies | ligat, qui non expauescit ad vultus in worldlinesse, wantonnesse, | homin[=u], sed ad memoriam pride, hatred, variance, | gehennalium tormentorum. Et hic emulations, wrath, strife, reuenge, | quidem peccare non metuit, sed impatiencie, gluttonie, or some | ardere. S. Bern. de Tripl. such darling sinne: and tell me | Coberent: Vincul. &c. Es. 33. 14._] (Beloued) if such a woman not | beautified and adorned with | religion and the feare of the Lord, | [Note a: _Tertul. de Habit. Mulieb. be worthy to bee praised of the | & de Cultu Foem. tom. 2. S. Cyprian Lord? I am sure the ancient Fathers | de Discipl. & Hab. Virg. to. 2. [a]declaime bitterly against her | Greg. Naz. aduers. mulier: filthy heart, false haire, | Ambitiosè se ornantes. to. 2. S. adulterate paintings, naked | Ephræm aduers. improbas mulieres breasts, new-fangled fashions of | tom. 1._ if his workes. _Riuet. l. superfluous, monstrous attire: & | 3. c. 21._] the holy Scriptures[b] vilifie her | to her face, threatning her | [Note b: _2 King. 9. 20, 30, 34. (notwithstanding all her other | Es. 3. 16, &c. & 32 9, 10, 11. 1 ornaments and excellencies of | Pet. 3. 3, 4. Matth. 5. 36. & 6. nature, art, policie, preferment,) | 27. Eccles. 25. 13, 19._] that without this _Feare of the | Lord, it shall not be well with | her, Eccles. 8. 13. The Lord will | come neare to her to iudgement, he | [Note c: _Eccles. 23. 26. Prou. will be a swift witnesse against | 10. 7._] her, Mal. 3. 5. She shall leaue her | memorie to be cursed[c], and her | [Note d: _Eccles. 26. 25._] reproach shall not be blotted out, | she shall be counted vngodly of | [Note e: _Eccles. 7. 26_] all[d], more bitter than death[e]. | As rottennesse in her husbands | [Note f: _Prou. 12. 4._] bones[f], As spittle[g],_ yea _As a | Dogge[h],_ and at last she shall be | [Note g: _Eccles. 26. 21._] cast into hell fire, _Saluâ Veniâ_, | without pardon from God, because | [Note h: _Eccles. 26. 25._] (saith _Tertullian_[i]) she hath | sinned _Saluo metû_, without any | [Note i: _Sic ergò & ipsi, saluâ feare of God. | veniâ in gehennam detrudentur, dum | saluô metû peccant. De pænit. c. 5. But on the other side what | Reuel. 21. 8. & 22. 15._] personall sufficiency, what | singular duty is there requisite in | a Woman, either in respect of God, | [Note: _A wom[=a] fearing the or of her husband, children, | Lord._] kindred, seruants, place, and of | Gods people, which the life of | [Note k: _Gen. 3. 16. Eph. 5. Grace, the Grace of the Feare of | 23.33. 1 Cor. 7. 34._] the Lord doth not animate, aduance, | [Note l: _1 Tim. 5. 10. 2 Tim. 1. and accomplish? This godly Feare | 5. & 3. 15. Tit. 2. 4. Deut. 6. ennobleth Nobilitie, beautifieth | 7._] Beautie, enricheth wealth, teacheth | wit, wisdome. She that hath this | [Note m: _Prou. 31. 15, 21._ _Feare_, dare not for her heart, | _Matth. 8. 6._] but be loath to offend her husband, | and deny her inferiority[k], but be | [Note n: _1 Tim. 5. 4. Esth. 2. an example of godlinesse to her | 7, 10. & 4. 4. Ruth 4. 15. children[l], prouide things | Exod. 18. 7._] necessary for her seruants[m] both | in health and in sicknesse; loue | [Note o: _Phil. 2. 3. Rom. 12. her naturall and legall[n] kindred, | 10, 16._] esteeme her equals aboue her | selfe[o], countenance and relieue | [Note p: _Iam. 2. 1. 1 Tim. 6. her inferiours[p], maintaine the | 18._] dignitie of her place by all such | vertues as may discharge the[q] | [Note q: _Titus 2. 3._] same; winne the affections of Gods | people, to her more and more, by | [Note r: _Luk. 1. 45, 56. Prou. the offices[r] of courtesies, | 1. 20 & 5. 20 Gal. 6. 10 1 Tim salutations, gifts, visitations, | 5. 10 Iob 6. 14_] inuitations and of helpfulnesse; | yea she that feares God, dare not | [Note s: _Gal. 6. 9. Iam. 1. for her heart but _Honour them that | 19. 1 Tim. 4. 13. 1 Thess 5. feare God, Psal. 15. 4._ but keepe | 17. Luk. 2. 37. Ephes. 4. 26. her set taskes[s] of hearing, | Phil. 4. 5. 1 Pet. 3. 4. Luk. reading, fasting, praying, | 9. 23. & 14. 26._] meditating, moderating passionate | distempers, and of all other | [Note t: _Psal. 18. 23. & 77. 10. gracious exercises, of | Gen. 39. 9. Prou. 16. 6. & 8. Selfe-deniall[t]; so that there is | 13._] not any knowne[u] sinne which she | nourisheth, alloweth, or goeth on | [Note u: _Gen. 17. 1. Psal. 6. 8. in, but quaketh and trembleth at | & 116. 9. Act. 10. 33. 2 Cor. the very first thoughts, yea | 6. 17. Iob 34. 21. Prou. 15. 3. motions and inclinations thereunto, | & 5. 22. 2 Chron. 16. 9 1 King. as being in the sight[x] of an | 17. 1. Magna est cautela peccati, inuisible God, vnder the perpetuall | Dei semper presentiam timere. S. presence of his All-seeing glorious | Aug. de Temp. tom. 212. tom. 10._] pure eye, which shee will not | prouoke to anger by any sinne, for | [Note x: _Multum enim refrænat all the gold that euer the Sunne | homines c[=o]scientia, si credamus made, or shall make while it stands | nos in c[=o]spectu Dei uiuere, si in Heauen[y]. | non, tantum quæ gerimus uideri | desuper, sed etiam quæ cogitamus, | aut loquimur, audiri a Deo putamus | &c. Lact. de Irâ Dei. c.8._] | | [Note y: _Es. 3. 8. 1 Cor. 3. | 22. Psalm. 119. 14.72. 127.162._] | This glorious description of a | [Note a: _2 Tim. 1. 7 & 3. 2._] woman fearing the Lord, is not mine | (Blessed Brethren) but the | [Note b: _Rom. 8. 15._] Scriptures, wherein I finde; 1. The | cause of her Feare to be not | [Note c: _Es. 29. 13._] Selfe-Loue[a], but the Loue of God; | not the spirit of Bondage[b]; but | [Note d: _Deut. 4. 10. Es. 66. the Spirit of Adoption: 2. The | 2. Eccl. 12. 13. Prou. 13. 13._ Obiect of her feare to be not the | _Psal. 119. 161._] precepts of men[c], but the | Commandements of God[d]: not his | [Note e: _Psal. 119. 120. & 52. Threats only[e], but his Promises | 6._] also[f]: not his Anger only against | sin[g], but his Mercy also in | [Note f: _2 Cor. 7. 1. Heb. 4. Christ[h]: not his Presence only, | 1. Psal. 130. 4._] as a Reuenging Iudge[i], but his | Forbearance also as a louing | [Note g: _Deut. 5. 9_] Father[k]. 3. The workings of her | Feare to be in the heat of | [Note h: _Hos. 3. 5. Psal. 33. 18 temptations and afflictions, not | & 130. 4._] Despairing[l]; but Beleeuing the | forgiuenesse of her sinnes, not | [Note i: _Ier. 5. 22. Act. 10. 2, Limiting God to the present danger; | 33._] but [m]waiting for his mercy, not | Distrusting his Prouidence; but | [Note k: _Mal. 1. 6. Os. 3. 5. hoping for Good[n]: not Murmuring | Hebr. 12. 9._] against him; but praising Him, and | praying vnto Him[o], yea (which is | [Note: II. _The continuance of her the proper Act of her Feare) not | Feare._] Louing any sin, but hating and | eschewing all sin[p], not out of a | [Note l: _Ier. 17. 17. Eccles. 2. slauish terrour of punishment; but | 8._] chiefly because it is Sinne, an | Infinite euill; and because an | [Note m: _Psal. 33. 18. 20. Infinite Good God, whom she loueth | Eccles. 2. 7._] (saith Saint _Augustine_) is | offended by it, though she should | [Note n: _Psal. 115. 11. & 56. 3. neuer goe to Hell-fire to be | Eccles. 2. 9._] punished for it[A]. | | [Note o: _1 Cor. 10. 10. Psalm. | 22. 23. Act. 10. 2._] | | [Note p: _Exod. 20. 20. Eccles. | 15. 13. Prou. 8. 13. & 16. 6. 2 | Tim. 1. 7. 1 Ioh. 4. 18. Hos. | 3. 5. Psal. 97. 10. Ier. 4. 18. | & 2. 19._] | | [Note A: | _Verò-Christianus--profici[=e]do Lastly, in the Scriptures I finde | perveniet ad talem anim[=u], vt Perseuerance or Constancie[q] to be | plus amet Dominum quàm timeat euer an inseperable Attendant vpon | Geh[=e]nam: vt etiamsi dicat illi her Feare! For she is not one that | Deus, vtere delicise carnalibus hath not yet tasted of this sauing | sempiternis & quantum potes; pecca, Grace, or else not continued in the | nec morieris, nec in Geh[=e]nam same; but she is a woman for the | mitteris, sed mecum tantummodo non present, _Timens Dominum, Fearing | eris; exhorrescat et omninò non the Lord_. You shall neuer finde | peccet, non iam vt in illud quod Her otherwise, than (as God would | timebat non incidat, sed ne illum haue her) _In the feare of the Lord | quem sic amat, offendat. De all the day long, Prou. 23. Fearing | Catechiz. Rudib. cap. 27. tom. 4. and keeping his Commandements | fol. 912._] alwaies, Deut. 4. Doing her Husband | Good and not euill all the daies of | [Note q: _Ierem. 32. 39, 40. her life_, verse the 12. of this | Deut. 4. 10. Prou. 23. 17. & 14. Chapter. | 2. 1 Tim. 2. 15._] | It is true indeed, as Feare is | [Note r: _Matth. 28. 20 Es. 43. opposed to Diffidence, _Luke 1._ So | 1, 2._] she serves God without a | Distrustfull Feare all the daies of | [Note s: _Ier. 14. 9. Lam. 3. her life; because of Gods | 22, 23._] continuall presence with Her[r], | continuall mercy towards Her[s], | [Note t: _2 Cor. 12. 9. Es. 26. continuall power[t] ouer Her, in | 4. & 45. 24. Psal. 121. & 35. Strengthening, Helping, and | 24. Rom. 8. 26._] Vpholding Her, _Esai. 41. 10._ But | yet as Feare is opposed to | [Note u: _Matth. 10. 28. Deut. Negligence, so she still feares | 28. 58._] God, lest she should be secure by | reason of his Power which is | [Note x: _Esai. 29. 15, 16. Psal. inuincible[u]; of his Wisdome, | 50. 21._] which is infallible[x]; of his | Mercy, which is compassionate[y]; | [Note y: _Esai. 43. 25. & 63. 9. & and of his Iustice, which is | 49. 13, 15._] inflexible[z]. | | [Note z: _Esai. 42. 14._] | It is as true also (which _Gerson_ | [Note a: _De diuersis tentat. and others haue obserued[a]) that | Diaboli, part 3. M^r. Greenham 5._ many times a Deuout Soule is so | part, among his Rules for an disquieted with a slauish Feare of | Afflicted minde.] the Aduersary; that she feares lest | she hath not any true Feare of Gods | [Note b: _Esai. 54. 8, 9, 10. c. Maiestie; but yet (_B. B._) say the | 49. 15. Ier. 31. 3. 36. c. 33. 20, _Pelagian_ what hee can to the | 21. Ioh. 13. 1. Rom. 8. 38, contrary, such is the | 39. Mat. 12. 20. Esai. 42. 3._] Euerlastingnesse of Gods Loue[b], | Mercie[c], and Couenant[d], the | [Note c: _Psalm. 103. 17. 2 Sam. Vnconquerablenesse of his Power[e], | 7. 15._] the Immortality of his Word[f], the | Certaintie of his Promises[g], the | [Note d: _Psal. 89. 28, 34. Esai. Efficacie of Christs Spirit[h]; | 55. 3. c. 59. 21. Ier. 32. 40._] Prayer[i], Merits[k], and of Faith | in them[l]; yea such is the durable | [Note e: _Ioh. 10. 29. Iude vers. vigour of this sauing Grace of _the | 24. 1 Pet. 1. 5. Esai. 26. 4. Feare of the Lord_[m], that being | Psal. 80. 17. Manus Dei est once rooted by God, (as Saint | ista, non nostra vt non discedamus _Augustine_ vrgeth) it cannot be | à Deo, manus inqu[=a] eius est remoued; but through it we may | ista, qui dixit, Timorem meum dabo perseueringly adhere vnto God | in cor eor[=u] &c. S. Aug. de Bono according to his promise: _I will | perseuer. c. 7. to. 7. Ier. 32. put my Feare in their hearts, that | 27._] they shall not depart from me, Ier. | 32. 40._ with _Psal. 80. 17._ She | [Note f: _1 Pet. 1. 23. 1 Ioh. 3. then that truely hath this _Feare_, | 9._] doth so feare the Lord in Loue, and | loue him in feare[n], that as in | [Note g: _Ephes. 1. 13. Numb. 13. the midst of Gods not Consuming, | 19. Ios. 21. 45. 1 Ioh. 5. 10. but Consummating Anger (for so | Hebr. 7. 27. c. 11. 11. Rom. 4. Saint _Augustine_[o] calls Gods | 21. 1 Cor. 1. 9._] Anger towards the Godly) shee can | see the yerning and relenting | [Note h: _Esai. 59. 21. Ephes. 1. Bowels of a Compassionate Father, | 13, 14. c. 4. 30. Ioh. 14. 16, so in the height of Satans | 17. 1 Ioh. 2. 27._] Terrifying iniections, she can | shunne and abhorre Gods | [Note i: _Luke 22. 32. Ioh. 17. Displeasure[p], more than all other | 15, 20. Rom. 8. 34. Hebr. 7. miseries of Punishments, and | 25._] therefore in what state soeuer she | be of Consolation or Desertion, | [Note k: _1 Pet. 1. 2, 3, 4, 5. 1 shee is still the same Woman, | Ioh. 5. 4, 18._] _Timens Dominum, Fearing the Lord_. | | [Note l: _1 Pet. 5. 9. Ephes. 6. | 6. Matth. 16. 18._] | | [Note m: _Ierem. 31. 40._ | _Perseuerantiam enim promisit Deus, | dicens: Timorem meum dabo in cor | eorum vt à me non recedant. Quod | quid est aliud quàm talis ac tantus | erit Timor meus, quem dabo in cor | eorum, vt mihi perseuerantèr | adhæreant? Idem de Bono Perseuer. | c. 2. tom. 7. Rom. 11. 29._] | | [Note n: _Absit enim vt timore | pereat amor, si castus est timor._ | _S. Aug. in Psal. 119. tom. 8._] | | [Note o: _Est ira consummationis, & | est ira c[=o]sumptionis, (nam omnis | Vindicta Dei, Ira dicitur) sed | aliquando ad hoc vindicat Deus, vt | perficiat: aliquando ad hoc | vindicat, vt damnet. Idem in | Psal. 58 to. 8. s. 599._] | | [Note p: _----Qui glutine Deo Thus wee haue seene who she is, who | conglutinatur, id est charitate ... _shall be praised_, lest we should | terribilius & horribilius ipsâ praise Her vnawares, whom we should | Gehenna iudicat, in re leuissima not praise. And now it were good we | vult[=u] omnipotentis scientèr did thinke a little better on the | offendere. S. Bern. de Tripl. Reason, why _she shall be praised_, | Coharen. Vincul._] euen because she is such _a woman | fearing the Lord_. | [Note: _The Reason._] | For if any thing, so rare and | [Note q: _1 Pet, 3. 7. Vir itaq, excellent a Grace as the _Feare of | nominatus est, quòd maior in eo Vis the Lord_ is, should moue vs to | est quàm in foemina, & hinc Virtus affect it, and labour for it, | nomen accepit. Item Mulier à especially being found in so weake | mollicie est dicta ... velut a Vessell as a Woman is[q]. For I | Mollier. Lact. de Ops. Dei. cap. could tell you, there are more | 12._] _Michals_[r] than _Abigails_[s], | more _Iezebels_[t] than | [Note r: _1 Sam. 18. 21. & 25. _Sarah's_[u], more proud | 41._] _Vasthy's_[x], than humble | _Esthers_[y], more Fearefull women, | [Note s: _2 Sam. 6. 16, 20._] than Women _Fearing the Lord_; and | therefore the rarer such Phoenixes | [Note t: _1 King. 21. 7. 2 King. 9. are (as S. _Ierom_ calls them[a]) | 22, 30._] not _One_ to be found by wisest | _Salomon_[A], among a _Thousand_, | [Note u: _1 Pet. 3. 6._] greater is her praise _that feareth | the Lord_[b]. | [Note x: _Esth. 1. 12._] | | [Note y: _Esth. 8. 5._] | | [Note a: _Optima foemina rarior est | Phoenice. Malarum foeminar[=u] tam | copiosa sunt examina &c. S. Ier. | epist._] | | [Note A: _Eccles. 7. 28. Prou. 3. | 10._] | | [Note b: _Laus tantò maior deferri | solet, quantò est bonum rarius quod | exigit Laudem. S. Aug. lib. 1. de | Ciuit. Dei. cap. 28. tom. 5._] | Then I must tell you, that euery | [Note c: _Esai. 8. 12 Col. 2. Feare is not commendable. Not that | 20._] Feare which is Hypocriticall, for | this is Superstition, when men | [Note d: _2 Tim. 3. 2. Mat. 10. feare the Feare of Idolaters[c]. | 28. Quis animæ Dominator, nisi Not that feare which is Worldly, | Deus solus? Quis iste, nisi ignium for this is wicked selfe-Loue, when | comminator? ... Illi potius metum men feare Men[d], Losse of Goods, | consecand[=u] &c. Tertul. aduers._ Fire and faggot, more than God the | _Gnost. c. 9. tom. 3._] Onely Soueraigne Commander of the | Soule, the Only Dreadfull Threatner | [Note e: _Timor Seruilis n[=o] est of euerlasting Burnings. Nor that | Virtus, quialicet mala declinari feare which is Seruile[e] or | saciat: non tamen hoc sacit benè, adulterate[f], for this is no | id est saudibilitèr; immo ilitèr et Vertue (proues _Paris._) when men | brutalitèr, videlicet solo metæ feare the _Euill of Punishment_ | feræ, ita enim occupat animum & only; not the _Euill of Sinne_, as | intentionam timentis, oraculos an Adulteresse feares the Comming | cordis ad solam poenæ euasionem home of her Husband; but feares | habeat &c. Paris. de Virtutibus, not the Committing of Adultery. | fol. 81. lit. H._ & _Paludan. l. 3. Nor is that feare commendable, | d. 34. q. 3._] which is Distrustfull or Immoderate | like _Ruben_ (as _Gerson_[g] | [Note f: _--Coniun quæ adulterinum alludes) growen great, and lying | anim[=u] gerit, etiam si timòre with _Bilhah_, for this is | viri non adulterium perpetrat: Infidelitie when men tie Gods Grace | tamen quod deest aperi, inest to present deliuerance out of | voluntati, Casta verò alitèr timet: danger, without a Beleeuing and | nam & ipsa times virum; sed castè. waiting Spirit for his Mercie, | Deniq, timet illa, no vir insestus _Esai. 28. 16._ | adueniat, ista ne offensus | abscedat. S. Aug. epist. 120. c. | 21. to. 2._] | | [Note g: _Ruben violat Balamdum | nimium grandis effectus est, quia | timor si simius est, dum se | custodire nititur, format inutiles | imaginationes, quibus se connoluens | à salutaribus impeditur. Tract. | 10. super, Magnificat. part 3._] | But the _Feare_ for which a _Woman | [Note h: _Lege Esaiam: vide quantia shall be praised_, is informed by | subiecerit timorem vt faceret Wisdome, instructed by | irreprehensibilam & bonum Timorem. Vnderstanding, directed by | Spiritus inquit Sapientia &c. Talle Counsell, strengthned by Might, | Timori Domini ista & est gouerned by Knowledge, adorned with | irrationabilis & insipiens Timor, Pietie, as Saint _Ambrose_ collects | vnus ex illis: Foris pugnæ, intus out of the eleuenth of _Esay_[h]. | Timores. In Psal. 118. Ser. 5. It is a Faithfull feare trusting in | tom. 4._] God[i], and making Him her _Feare_, | _Esai. 8. 13._ and her Hope too in | [Note i: _Psal. 115. 11. & 147. the Day of Euill, not without this | 11. Esai. 50. 10._] feruent Prayer vnto Him then: _Be | not thou a Terrour vnto me, Ier. | [Note k: _Psal. 19. 9_] 17. 17._ A chast and _Cleane | Feare[k], Cleansing from all | [Note l: _2 Cor. 7. 1._] filthinesse of the flesh and | Spirit_.[l] A Reuerent and Godly | [Note m: _Hebr. 12. 28._] Fear[m], Preparing the heart, | Humbling the Soule in Gods | [Note n: _Eccles. 2. 17. & 21. 6._] sight[n], Trembling at his Word[o], | not Disobeying it, Eschewing[p] | [Note o: _Esai. 66. 2. Eccle. 2. euill, Working righteousnesse and | 15._] Giuing much almes[q]. A Blessed | Feare it is[r], Blessing them that | [Note p: _Iob 1. 1._] haue it, Blessing the Lord that | giues it, Praising Him and saying: | [Note q: _Act. 10. 35, 2, 31. _That his Mercy endureth for | Eccles. 25. 1._] euer_[s]. | | [Note r: _Psal. 112. 1. & 128. 1._] | | [Note s: _Psal. 135. 13. & 118. 4 & | 22. 23._] | Lastly, it is an Euerlasting Feare, | [Note t: _1 King. 18. 3. 12. Tob. euer encreasing[t], and _Enduring | 14. 4._] for euer_[u], though not in respect | of the Act of Declination or | [Note u: _Psal. 19. 9. Reuel. 7. eschewing of sinne[x], because in | 10, 11 & 19. 1, 3, 4, 5, 6._] Heauen there is no feare of | sinning[y]; yet in respect of the | [Note x: _Bonau. lib. 3. d. 34. q. Act of Celebration or Reuerencing | 3. p. 89. Tho. Aquin. II q. 79. God, because there the Saints doe | a. II_] nothing else; but still Giue Glory | to Him, and Worship Him with humble | [Note y: _In coelo, vbi non est Acknowledgement of their owne | peccatum Gloria est & perpetua laus Vnworthinesse, _Psal. 19. 9._ with | & indefessæ præconia. S. Ierom. ad _Reuel. 4. 10. 11._ | Therdoram. Epitaph. Lucinij. | {Offensa | { & Now (Honourable and Beloued) though | Timorem {Poenæ. Gloria I haue set nothing at all besides | {Patriæ this Heauenly Manna before your | propter coram imperfectionem n[=o] eyes; yet your full Soules must not | paritur. In tuto enim erimus et Loath it. For if that only is to be | [(a] poenæ et ab offensa. Paris. praised which is excellent[z], then | de Virtutibus, lit. A. F._] (by your leaue) I must stand | somewhat longer vpon the | [Note z: _Laudare plus est quàm Excellencie of this _Feare_, before | probare & prædicare. Nam Laudamus _a Woman_ can be _praised_ that | id quod excellit &c. _Auso. Popma hath it. | de Differen. Virt. l. 3._] | I demand then what doe you count | [Note: The Excellencie of Godly Excellent? Riches, Honour, Life. | Feare.] Why, these are neuer well gotten, | nor well kept; but by _the Feare of | [Note b: _Prou. 22. 4. & 19. 23._ the Lord_. So saith _Salomon_, _By | _Eccles. 1. 11, 12. & 23. 27. & 40. the feare of the Lord are Riches | 26, 27. & 10. 20, 22._] and Honour, and Life_[b]. Say what | you will, it must needs be an | [Note c: _Inter Laudes meas & illa Excellent thing wherwith Christ | est eximia: quod ipsum Christum Iesus Himselfe was Filled, and that | Domin[=u] Apothecam, immo fontem was with _The Spirit of this Feare, | Gratiarum omnium & Virtutum replere Esai. 11. 2._[c]. An excellent | dictus sum &c. Paris. de Moribus, thing which God Himselfe so | fol. 99. Lit. P._] earnestly desires to be still in | vs, and that is this Feare. _O_ | [Note d: _Deut. 5. 29._] (saith He) _that there were such an | Heart in them, that they would | [Note e: _Eccles. 12. 13. Deum feare me, and keepe my | time--Ergo si hoc est omnis Homo, Commandements alwaies_[d], which is | absq, hoc Nihil omnis Homo. Serm. indeed the _whole Dutie of Man_[e]; | 20. in Cant._] without which (Saint _Bernard_ | concludes) _Euery man is Nothing_. | [Note f: _Vsus enim humani animi He is not a Man (reasons a | pendet à Timore conspictus Diuini Schoole-man[f]) but the Shadow of a | tanquam à primi regula. Caiet. in Man; because He imployes not his | Eccles. c. 8 13. v._] Soule to that noble End for which | he had it, namely, to be squared | [Note g: _Prou. 9. 10. Iob 28. and ruled _by the feare of the | 28._] Lord_: without which no man can so | much as Begin to be wise, because | [Note h: _Eccles. 25. 12._] this _Feare is the Beginning_[g] | _of wisdome_, nor so much as _Begin | [Note i: _Leuit. 2. 13. Pet. to Loue God_, because this _Feare | Bles. ser. 36. p. 430._] is the Beginning of the Loue of | God_[h]. It is the _Salt_ (alludes | [Note k: _Psal. 2. 11._] _Blesensis_) that must be in euery | _Sacrifice_[i], in euery _Worke we | [Note l: _2 Cor. 7. 11. Eccl. 21. doe_, so that there is no _Seruing | 6._] God_, no _Reioycing_ in Him[k], no | heartie _Repenting_[l], no _Chast | [Note m: _1 Pet. 3. 2._] Conuersing_[m], no _Perfecting | Holinesse_[n], no _Working out our | [Note n: _2 Cor. 7. 1._] Saluation_, but with _Feare and | Trembling_[o]; nay there is no | [Note o: _Philip. 2. 12._] _Saluation_, no _Blessednesse_ | without _Continuing in this | [Note p: _Eccles. 2. 10. 1 Tim. Feare_[p], _Prou. 28. 14._ Againe, | 2. 15._] is not that Excellent, that will | make vs more Excellent than our | [Note q: _Prou. 12. 26. Eccles. Neighbours[q], that will Exalt vs | 15. 5._] aboue them, that will keepe our | hearts from Hardning[r], our Houses | [Note r: _Prou. 28. 14._] from Ouerthrowing[s]? but nothing | can doe this; but this _Feare of | [Note s: _Eccles. 27. 3._] the Lord_. This feare (saith | _Paris._[t]) can cause a spiritual | [Note t: _Ego sum Tempestas ad Earth-quake in a mans Heart, able | liberationem & salutem, Terræmotum to ouerthrow all the Deuils | spiritualem in corde humano strongest holds, any[u] | faciens, et omnia Diabolica Bosome-sinne, be it neuer so | ædificia in co subuertens et pleasing and profitable, by reason | discutiens ab codem. Paris. de of that Contrarietie and | Moribus fol. 99. lit. F._] Opposition[x] that is betweene | Lying in any Sweet Sinne, and | [Note u: _Prou. 8. 13. & 16. 6. Liuing in Gods Feare and Fauour, as | Psal. 119. 6, 36. 117. 128. v. you may see, _Leuit. 25. 36._ | Iam. 2. 10. Psal. 86. 11._] | | [Note x: _Sed aiunt quid[=a]: Satis | Deum habere si corde & animo | suspiciatur, licet actu minus fiat. | Itaq se saluo metu et fide | peccare; hoc est Saluâ castitate, | matrimonia violare, Saluâ pietate, | par[=e]ti venenum temperare._ | Tertul. de _Poenit. c. 5. tom. 2._] | Lastly, this is an Excellent Feare, | [Note y: _Prou. 14. 27._] because it is _A fountaine of | Life_[y]: wherefore? _To driue away | [Note a: _Eccles. 1. 21._] Sinnes_[a], Sinnes which haue beene | committed by Repentance (saith S. | [Note b: _Timor Domini expellit _Bernard_) and Sinnes whereto we | peccatum, sine quod iam admissum are Tempted, by Resistance[b]; and | est, sine quod tentat intrare. yet this is not all the Excellencie | Expellit sanè illud quidem of this Feare: For it is _A | poenitende, hoc Resistendo. Serm. fountaine of life_ also: _To Cause | de Diuers. Affect._] vs to finde fauour at our | Deaths_[c]; and which is more, Such | [Note c: _Eccles. 1. 13._] an Excellent Feare as will make vs | _Not feare, nor be afraid_[d]. | [Note d: _Eccles. 34. 14. Exod. Whereupon Saint _Augustine_[e] | 20. 20. Prou. 1. 33. & 19. 23. concludes for my purpose: _Discat | Psal. 27. 1, 2, 3. & 34. 4 timere, qui non vult timere: Discat | --Auferendi sunt metus, sed ita, ad tempus esse Solicitus, qui | vt hic solus relinquatur, qui semper vult esse securus_. Let him | quoniam legitimus ac verus est, learn to feare, that would not | solus efficit, ut possint cætera feare: Let him be wary and | omnia non timeri, Lact. de Vero cautelous for a time, that would be | Cultu. l. 6. c. 17. Qui enim Deum happie and secure for euer. | veracitèr timet, nihil terrenum & _Tertullian_ giues the reason[f], | caducum timet, immo ex ipso Timore because if _We feare to Offend_, by | Dei, ipsis Timoribus Fearing we will take heed, lest we | supereffertur. Bonau. lib. 3. d. Offend, and by Taking heed, we | 34. q. 1. p. 62._] shall be in safetie; otherwise if | wee presume and be not alwaies | [Note e: _De Temp. Serm. 214. tom. watchfull ouer our hearts lest they | 10._] offend, we cannot be _Saued_[g], | _Ier. 4. 14. Qui solicitus est, | [Note f: _Nam qui præsumit, minus is verè poterit esse securus_: He | veretur, minus præcauet, plus that is not ouer-bold on his owne | periclitatur &c. De Cultu Fæm. strength[h]; but confident in | cap. 2. & de Pænit. cap. 6.--Volo Christ[i], and liues not securely | te timere & non timere, præsumere & in the minion-delight of any knowne | non præsumere, timere vt pæniteas, sinne; but stands in such | non timere vt præsumas. Porro continuall awe of Gods _Presence_, | præsumere ne diffidas, non _Precepts_, _Promises_, _Threats_, | præsumere ne torpescas. Ber. cp. that he dare not so much as once | 87. ad Oger._] make any offer of incurring his | Displeasure by the impenitent | [Note g: _Prou. 4. 23. Ier. 4. Allowance of any sinne in his | 14, 18. & 16. 10, 11, 12. Es. 55. heart[k], and studies to do euery | 7. Mat. 15. 19. Nec sufficit Good worke as carefully, as if it | non egisse aliquid impium, si were the Last he should doe in this | m[=e]te cogitatur impietas. S. World, and as exactly, as if his | Hilar. in Psal. 65. fol. 424._] whole Saluation depended vpon it, | such a Man (in Ancient | [Note h: _Prou 28. 26. Rom. 7. _Tertullians_ iudgement[l]) may be | 18. & 11. 20._] truely secure of Perseuering in | Grace here; and of being Glorified | [Note i: _Phil. 4. 13. 2 Tim. 2. hereafter[m], _1 Thess. 5. 15, 24._ | 1. & 4. 18. Eph. 6. 10. 2 Once more I haue done. Is not that | Chron. 16. 8, 9. et. 20. 12. an excellent thing that is for the | Deut. 6. 3, 4. Quicquid est Good of them that haue it, & of | circa te vel in te unde possis their children after them? Riches, | præsumere, abjice à te, & tota Honour, Beautie, Policie, these and | præsumptio tua Deus sit, illius the like are not oftentimes so, as | indigens esto, vt implearis &c._ we see by woefull experience in | _S. Aug. in Psal. 85._] _Nabal_, _Haman_, _Absalom_, | _Achitophel_; but _the feare of the | [Note k: _Psal. 66. 18. 1 Pet. 3. Lord_ is euer so, _for the Good of | 15. Ez. 33. 31. Psal. 24. 4 them that haue it, and for their | Iam. 4. 8. Heb. 10. 22. Redi children after them_, as the | ad te, intus tibi esto iudex. Ecce Prophet saith, _Ier. 32. 39._ and | in cubiculo tuo abscondito, in ipsa God himselfe before him, _Deut. 5. | vena intima cordis tui vbi tu solus 29._ | es, & ille qui videt; illic tibi | displiceat iniquitas, vt placeas | Deo.... Parum est in vultù, parum | est in lingua, in corde noli | respicere, id est, noli diligere, | noli acceptare. Idem in Psal. 65. | to 8._] | | [Note l: _De cultu Fæm. cap. 2. to. | 2._] There is no want to them that haue | this _Feare_ of any Good thing that | [Note m: _2 Thess. 3. 3. 2 Tim. is Good for them[n]. For first, | 2. 19. Ioh. 15. 16. Luke 10. _Psal. 25. 14. The secret_, that | 20. Ioh. 16. 22. & 10. 28, 29. is, _the feare of the Lord, is with | v. Psal. 35. 5. & 125. 1. Prou. them that feare Him_; and is not | 10. 30._] that enough, though I should say no | more with the Psalmist, because | [Note n: _Psal. 34. 9, 10. _Godly Feare is Gods Treasure, | Eccles. 40. 26, 27. & 1. 16._] Esai. 33. 6._ and _Better little | with it_ (saith _Salomon_) _than | [Note o: _Prou. 15. 16._] Great Treasure_[o]? But there is | more behind to moue you further to | [Note p: _Psal. 25. 14._] affect this Excellent Grace. For if | you will _Feare the Lord_, He will | [Note q: _Mal. 2. 5._] shew you his _Couenant_[p] _of life | and peace_[q], _Teach you the way | [Note r: _Psal. 25. 12._] that you shall chuse_[r], _Haue a | Booke of remembrance written before | [Note s: _Mal. 3. 16._] Him for you_[s]: _Hee will Arise | vnto you the Sunne of | [Note t: _Mal. 4. 2._] Righteousnesse with healing in his | wings_[t]: _He wil hide you in his | [Note u: _Psal. 31. 20, 21._] presence from the pride of men_[u], | _Keepe you secretly in a Pauilion | [Note x: _Eccles. 33. 1._] from the strife of tongues, Deliuer | you in Temptation euen againe_[x]; | [Note y: _Psal. 147. 11._] yea _He will take pleasure in | you_[y], _Pitie you as a Father | [Note a: _Psalm. 103. 13. Mal. 3. doth his children_[a], _Fulfill | 17._] your Desire_, _Heare your crie and | saue you_[b]. And what is all this, | [Note b: _Psal. 145. 19._] but in a word (the word of my Text) | _Hee will praise you_, which is the | Thing Promised to _a woman fearing | the Lord_. | | _Ipsa Laudabitur: She shall be | [Note: II. praised._ | _The thing promised._ | _In what respect to_ Ipsa.] She shall be so; but may not that | labour be spared? For a man would | [Note c: _Prou. 28. 4 & 24. 24. & thinke, she hath been praised all | 17. 15. Eccl. 10. 23, 29. Tho. this while; because Godly Feare, | Aquin. 22. q. 115. a. 2. Corp._] the Grace of God in Her, and the | onely cause of her Praise, hath | [Note d: _Ego carnis bona quæ beene alreadie so much commended | semper & ipse contempsit, in animæ vnto you? No (Beloued) my Text (you | laudibus n[=o] requiram----ad see) applies and appropriates this | Heliodor. Epitah. Nepot._] praise to _Ipsa_, Her own Person, | by vertue indeed of _the Feare of | [Note e: _Prou. 27. 14. Vox autem the Lord_. For were it not for | grandis, laus excedens mensur[=a] that, it were better Contemning | Meritorum hîs intelligetur--Paris. Her, yea Contending[c] with Her, | de Moribus. fol. 123. lit. M._] than Commending Her, because that | is a constant marke of the Godly to | [Note f: _Es. 26. 12. 1 Cor. 15. Contemne the vngodly, _Psal. 15. | 10. & 12. 6. Phil. 2. 13. Ier. 4._ This, of the wicked to Praise | 32. 40._] the wicked, to Blesse the Couetous, | whom _the Lord abhorreth_, _Psal. | [Note A: _Laudari in bonis operibus 10. 3._ It is not her Friendship, | debes; sed in eo quod operaris, no nor _Carnis bona_ (as Saint | homin[=u] laudes expectare non _Ierom_[d] calls them) _the Good | debes--Deus Laudetur in operibus endowments of the flesh_, can | tuis. De statu Vidu. ad Gallam priuiledge him from a _Curse_, if | epist. 2. Si qua sane in Sanctis so be, he praise her without or | digna laude vel admiratione aboue[e] her Deserts, _Prou. 27. | intueor, clará luce veritatis 14._ Onely _the feare of the Lord_, | discutiens, profectò reperio with the excellent fruits thereof, | Laudabilem siue Mirabilem alium is Gods Gift[f], for which (saith | apparere atque alium esse, & Laudo _Fulgentius_[A]) she ought, and he | Deum in Sanctis eius. S. Bern. may safely commend her, because | Ser. 13. in Cant._] then, not shee; but _Gods Grace_ in | her is _Praised_, _Ephes. 1. 6._ | [Note g: _1 Pet. 3. 4. Enimverò Yea then, _not she_, but _God | quis non animæ dabit summam omnem, himselfe is Glorified_ in Her, | cuius nomine totius Hominis mentio _Gal. 1. 24._ | titulata est. Tertul. de Anima. | cap. 13._] But what? is not _She Praised_, | when Her Husband, Her Children, Her | [Note h: ... _Nihil in illâ Kindred, Her Friends, Her | laudabo, nisi quod propr[=u] est._ Attendants, Her Wit, Her Wealth, | _S. Ierom ad Princip._ And so of Her Beautie, Her Nobilitie, or all | _Paula_ he saith. _Nihil laudabimus these and the like of Hers are | nisi quod proprium est & de commended? Yes, all these come very | purissimo sanctæ mentis fonte neere Her, and mutually receiue | profertur. Id. ep. ad Eustoch. Nam lustre and eminencie from this | cum omnia opera sua laudauerit Godly Feare; but they are not | Deus, coelum, terram &c. vbi ad _Ipsa_, Her selfe, that is,[g] | Homin[=e] v[=e]tum est, solus non principally Her Soule truely | videtur esse laudatus propter quem Generous, and ennobled with the | omnia generata s[=u]t. Quæ igitur _Feare of the Lord_. Vntill such an | causa est, nisi fortè ea, quia alia Humble Soule be found in Her, She | in specie sunt, Homo in occulto? is not She, that _shall be adorned | quia aliorum Gratia foris, huius with the Garment of praise_, _Esai. | intus est. Aliorum in Natiuitate, 61. 3._ Therefore Saint _Ierom_[h] | huius in Corde.--Ideo ergò homo non would not commend in Noble | antè laudatur, quia non in forensi _Marcella_ any thing saue Her owne | pelle, sed in interiore Homine antè Godly selfe. _Ipsa Laudabitur_: She | probandus, sic prædicandus est._ is She that shall be Praised. | _S. Ambros. Instit. Virg. cap. 3. | tom. 1._] And so we see how far forth Praise | is to be extended to Her. Now to | speak of the Extent of Her Praise: | Let the word haue his full | latitude. _Laudabitur_ is generall, | [Note i: _2 Ioh. 1. 1. Hebr. 13. no kinde is limited. 1. Therefore | 1. Ephes. 5. 25._] for the Extent, to be praised euery | manner of way. 2. For the Time when | [Note k: _1 Thess. 5. 13._] it shall be best for her. 3. For | the Praiser, by him who can best | [Note l: _Mark. 14. 9. Psal. 112. doe it. Of all these briefly. | 6._] | First, what praise she shall haue. | [Note: I. _What Praise she shall 1. Euen that (which being true) is | haue. The Extent of Laudabitur._] euer accompanied with Dearest Loue | to her person[i]. 2. Highest | [Note m: _Gen. 23. 2. Ioh. 11. estimation of Gods abundant graces | 33, 35. 1 King. 14. 13. 1 Thes. in Her[k]. 3. Frequent | 4. 13. Eccles. 22. 11, 12 & 38. Commemoration of them[l]. 4. | 16, 17._] Moderate Lamentation at her | Death[m]. 5. Solemne Funerals | [Note n: _Act. 8. 2. 2 Chron. 32. according to the Dignitie of her | 33._] place[n]. 6. And aboue all, with | precise imitation of her excellent | [Note o: _Iam. 5. 10. Hebr. 12. Vertues[o]. All this Honour God | 1. & 13. 7. 1 Cor. 11. 1._] allowes Her, that honours Him with | His Feare[p]. But because all | [Note p: _1 Sam. 2. 30. Deut. 26. Praise is properly in Words (as the | 19. Ioh. 12. 26. Esai. 8. 13. Schoole-man teacheth[q]) and better | Timor Hominis, Dei Honor est. words shee cannot haue to praise | Tert. de Poenit. c. 7_] Her, than God himselfe speakes[r], | therefore she shall be Commended in | [Note q: _Tho. Aquin. 22. q. 103. no other, neither in regard of God, | a. 1. ad 3._] nor of her Husband, Children, | Kindred, Seruants, and Gods People. | [Note r: _Psal. 12. 6._] | First in respect of God, she shall | [Note s: _Psal. 16. 3._] be praised for One of his | Excellent[s], Hidden Ones[t]: for | [Note t: _Psal. 83. 3._] one of his Iewels, which hee will | make vp[u]: for His Daughter[x], | [Note u: _Mal. 3. 17._] His Sister[y], His Mother[z], His | Spouse[a], His Loue[b], His | [Note x: _2 Cor. 6. 18,_] Doue[c], His Faire[d] one, as Faire | as the Moone, as Pure as the | [Note y: _Cant. 4. 9._] Sun[e]: as the Moone by inherent, | and as the Sun, by imputed | [Note z: _Matth. 12. 50._] Righteousnesse. To her Husband she | shall bee commended, as the Louing | [Note a: _Hos. 2. 19._] Hinde and pleasant Roe[f], the | Desire of his eyes[g]; An Helpe | [Note b: _Cant. 2. 10._] like vnto Himselfe[h]; His | Companion[i]; for A Pillar of | [Note c: _Cant. 2. 14._] rest[k], so that He shall haue no | need of spoile[l]; for a Good | [Note d: _Cant. 2. 13._] Portion[m], a speciall Fauour[n] | and Gift of the Lord[o]; a Double | [Note e: _Cant. 6. 10._] Grace[p], Doubling the number of | his Daies[q], Fatting his bones[r], | [Note f: _Prou. 5. 19._] and making him knowne in the Gates, | when he sitteth among the Elders of | [Note g: _Ezek. 24. 16. Eccles. the Land[s]: for a Tower against | 36. 22._] Death vnto him[t]: A greater | Blessing vnto him than either House | [Note h: _Gen. 2. 18. Eccles. 36. or Inheritance[u], Aboue children | 24._] and the Building of a Citie to | continue his Name[x], yea for a | [Note i: _Mal. 2. 14._] Crowne vnto her Husband[y], not a | Gold-ring on his finger; nor a | [Note k: _Eccles. 36. 24._] chaine of Gold about his necke, nor | a Brouch in his hat; but for a | [Note l: _Prou. 31. 11._] Crowne vpon his head (an Ornament | more conspicuous and eminent than | [Note m: _Eccles. 26. 3, 23._] the former, the Principall Ensigne | of Princes[z]) gracing him that | [Note n: _Prou. 18. 22._] hath her, as much as a Crown doth | Him that weareth it: so that there | [Note o: _Eccles. 26. 14._] is none aboue her, that feareth the | Lord[a], None greater than she, not | [Note p: _Eccles. 26. 15._] Great Men, nor Iudges, nor | Potentates[b]: Her Grace is aboue | [Note q: _Eccles. 26. 1._] Gold[c]. Her Price is farre aboue | Rubies[d]. Her Continent minde | [Note r: _Eccles. 26. 13._] cannot be valewed[e], and by reason | of Her, her Husband is a Blessed | [Note s: _Prou. 31. 23._] Man[f], Not like other men[g]. | | [Note t: _Eccles. 26. 22._] | | [Note u: _Prou. 19. 14._] | | [Note x: _Eccles. 40. 19._] | | [Note y: _Prou. 12. 4. Non annulus, | non torques aureus, non monile, sed | Corona. Cartw. in Prou._] | | [Note z: _Psal. 21. 3. Esth. 2. | 17_] | | [Note a: _Eccles. 25. 10._] | | [Note b: _Eccles. 10. 24._] | | [Note c: _Eccles. 7. 19._] | | [Note d: _Prou. 31. 10._] | | [Note e: _Eccles. 26. 14. 15._] | | [Note f: _Eccles. 26. 1._] | | [Note g: _Eccles. 36. 23. Sine | Muliere igitur Homo non habet | Laudem, in Muliere prædicatur, &c. | S. Ambros. Instit. Virg. cap. 3. | tom. 1._] To Her Children shee shall be | Commended; because by her they haue | [Note h: _Prou. 14. 26. & 11. 22._] a place of Refuge[h]; by Her they | haue good meanes to bring and | [Note i: _Deut. 5. 29. Psal. 112. continue true Honour vpon them[i], | 2._] and if They (the Fruit) be a great | Blessing[k] (as it is to haue Issue | [Note k: _Psal. 127. 3._] by such a One) what is the Root | that beareth it[l]? | [Note l: _Psal. 128. 3._] | But I must hasten: How shall she be | [Note m: _Gen. 29. 9._] Praised in respect of her Parents? | euen as _Rachel_[m] for doing | [Note n: _Eccles. 3. 7._] seruice to them as to her Masters | (the true propertie of one that | [Note o: _Ruth. 4. 15._] _feareth the Lord_[n].) In respect | of her kindred by mariage, as | [Note p: _Ruth. 1. 8._] _Ruth_, louing them[o], Dealing | kindly with them[p], and Cleauing | [Note q: _Ruth. 1. 14. & c. 2. 11_] vnto them[q]. And in respect of her | kindred by bloud, as _Esther_, who | [Note r: _Esth. 2. 20._] did the Commandement of _Mordecay_ | when she was a Queene, like as when | [Note s: _Esth. 4. 4._] she was brought vp with Him[r], who | was exceedingly grieued at his | [Note t: _Esth. 4. 16._] Griefe[s], and procured the | Enlargement and Deliuerance of her | [Note u: _Esth. 8. 3._] kindred with her _Feasts_[t], her | _Teares_[u], and the Hazard of her | [Note x: _Esth. 4. 11, 16._] _Life_[x]. | | [Note y: _Prou. 14. 1._] In regard of her Seruants also, she | shall be commended because she | [Note z: _Prou. 31. 14._] Buildeth her House[y]: _Shee is | like the Merchants ship, She | [Note a: _Prou. 31. 15._] fetcheth her food from farre_[z], | _She giueth meat to her | [Note b: _Prou. 31. 21._] Houshold_[a], _She cloatheth them | all with Scarlet_[b], _and Shee | [Note c: _Prou. 31. 27._] looketh so well to their waies_[c], | that _As the Sunne when it ariseth | [Note d: _Eccles. 26. 16._] in the high Heauen; So is her | beautie in the Ordering of her | [Note e: _Reuel. 12. 1._] House_[d]. | | [Note f: _Gal. 3. 28._ Ephes. 4. Lastly, because all the Essentiall | 15.16. Cant. 2. 10.--Cum ipsos Glory and Fairenesse, which is to | cogitatis amantes, non virum & bee found in the whole Church, _The | Foeminam, sed verbum &c. Animam Woman cloathed with the Sunne_[e], | sentiatis, oportet. Et si Christum as that of Iustification & | & Ecclesiam dixero, idem est, nisi Sanctification &c. belongs to euery | quod Ecclesiæ nomine non vna Anima, Member of the Church[f], and | sed multarum vnitas, vel potius c[=o]sequently to euery _Woman | vnanimitas designatur._ S. Bern. fearing the Lord_, therefore to | serm. 61. in Cant._] Gods people she shall be commended, | as one of the Hands of the Church | [Note g: _Cant. 5. 5._] _dropping with sweet smelling | Mirrhe_[g]: as the _Curtaines of | [Note h: _Cant. 1. 5._] Salomon_[h]; _As a Lilly among | thornes_[i]; _A Garden inclosed_: | [Note i: _Cant. 2. 2._] _A Spring shut vp_. _A Fountain | sealed_[k]. | [Note k: _Cant. 4. 12._] | But when shall shee haue all this | [Note: II. _When she shall be Praise and of whom? Not by and by, | Praised._] nor of Euery one[l], for Praise is | not comely in the mouth of euery | [Note l: _Luk. 6. 26. Eccles. 15. one, of euery scoffing _Ishmael_. | 9._] | But first of the Time. | [Note m: _Esay 28. 16. 30. 18. 40. | 31. 64. 4. Heb. 10. 36, 37, 38. Many when they heare a Promise (and | Hab. 2. 3, 4._] a Promise I told you at first, this | is) thinke to haue it by and by; | [Note n: _1 Cor. 4. 5._] but they marke not, that a Promise | and the Fruition of it is not all | [Note o: _1 Pet. 1. 7. Et nos at once. It must be waited for[m], | ergò n[=o] a nobis laudem exigamus, especially this Promise of Praise: | nec præripiamus iudicium Dei & _Vntill the Lord come_ (as the | præueniamus sententiam iudicis, sed Apostles limit the Time) _and | suo Tempori, suo Iudici then_, at his Appearing, _she shall | reservemus. S. Ambros. in Luc. l. haue praise of God_[n]. _Then at | 8. c. 17. tom. 5. 2 Tim. 2. 5. his Appearing_[o], _Her Faith shall | Eccles. 11. 27.28._] be found vnto Praise and Honour, | and Glory_. Therefore in the mean | [Note p: _Nam si laudari antè while, best for her to _Feare the | Gubernator non potest quam in Lord_, and so be praise-worthy, | portum nauem deduxerit: quomodò than to be praised for the present. | laudabis Homin[=e] prius quàm in | stationem mortis successerit? S. 1. Not only because it is safest | Ambr. de Bono Mort. c. 8. tom. 4. praising Her as a Master of a ship | Meritò ergò differtur, vt sequatur is (saith S. _Ambrose_[p]) when she | foenerata eius Laudatio, cuius is safely arriued in the Hauen, | dilatio non dispendium; sed past all danger of shipwracke: or | incrementum est ... Et ideo growing more proud by her praise | laudatio eius non in exordio; sed (which many Liuing doe) as _Herod_ | in fine est. Nemo enim nisi for one[q], and that Philosopher | legitimè certauerit, coronabitur. for another, whose soule being | Ideoq, sapiens tibi dicit: Antè before no bigger than a mans | mortem non laudes hominem quemquam. finger, became so puft vp and | Ratio. Quia in fine hominis swolne with others commending him, | nudantur opera eius. Id. Instit. that (as _Arrianus_ reports) it | Virg. c. 3. tom. 1._] grew greater than two Cubits[r]. | | [Note q: _Act. 12. 21._] 2. Nor only because actuall praise | is in the lips of the praiser, and | [Note r: _Arrian. Epict. l. 3. c. so a wicked woman may be praised, | 2._] and yet not be worthy of it, and a | godly woman may be praise-worthy, | and yet not haue it, whereas | praise-worthinesse is euer in the | partie to be praised, and fewest | (you know) haue this worth; but | many haue praise without it, | therefore praise-worthinesse is the | Nobler Grace of the two, and | consequently best for a Woman to be | worthy of praise, though she be not | praised for the present. | | 3. But one of the chiefest Reasons | is this; because indeed all our | earthly praise is _Laudatur_, that | is, for the present; but continueth | not. Is, but shall not be. | Sometimes a godly woman is | commended, and sometimes she is | not. As S. _Paul_ praised the | _Corinthians_[s], _Now I praise you | [Note s: _1 Cor. 11. 1, 22_] Brethren_, and by and by he saith: | _Shall I praise you in this? I | praise you not_: whereas This | praise here promised so Is, that it | _shall be_ still, and that cannot | be in this Transitory world; but in | Heauen, where Her praise that | feareth the Lord for euer, endureth | for euer: _Laudabitur, She shall be | praised_. | | The best Time then for commending | [Note: III. Her is yet to come, and that from | _Of whom shee shal be praised._] Him who can best doe it; But I must | tell you first, this Time should | [Note t: _2 Kings 9. 11. Act. 24. neuer come, could the scoffing | 5. & 26. 24. Neh. 6. 13._] _Ishmaels_ of our daies be heard | railing vpon, iesting at, belying | [Note u: _Tert. Apolog. c. 7. &c. and slandering Her and Him _that | Arnob. aduers. Gent. M. Fælix in feareth the Lord_. It was euer | Octau._] their Deuillish propertie[t] with | many disgracefull censures to dimme | [Note x: _Gratias ago Deo meo, quod the glory of the children of Light, | dignus sum, quem mundus oderit._ spitefully to aggrauate their | _S. Ierom. Asellæ._] tender frailties, rather than to | commend their vnreproueable Graces. | [Note y: _Ephes. 5. 15. Phil. 4. So of old they scourged the | 8, 9. 2 Cor. 8. 20. 1 Pet. 2. Primitiue Christians with their | 12. Heb. 11. 39. Eccl. 41.12. viperous, virulent tongues[u]; but | --Nec ex nobis scintilla as Saint _Ierome_ thanks God that | procedat, per quam aduersus nos He was counted worthy to be hated | sinistræ famæ flamma confletur--Nos of the world[x]; so should euery | id agamus, vt malè de nobis nemo good man and woman, not much | loqui, absque Mendacio possit._ trouble themselues for the vniust | _Paulin. epist. ad Celant._] censures and disconceits of | witlesse and worthlesse | prophanenesse; but rather (as | _Paulinus_[y] exhorts) haue more | regard to their good name, lest any | sparkle or appearance of euill | truly proceed from them, whereby | any flame of euill report may be | kindled, and so to liue, that none | may speake euill of them without | lying. For maugre the malice of all | Sensualists, the Time will come, | when euery man and woman that | feareth God, shall haue praise of | [Note z: _1 Cor. 4. 5._] God[z], 1 Cor. 4. which is the best | praise, when all is done[a], 2 Cor. | [Note a: _2 Cor. 10. 18. Iob. 12. 10. Yea (Beloued) that you may not | 43._] count _the Lord slacke_ concerning | his promise[b], Saint _Iames_ tells | [Note b: _2 Pet. 3. 9._] you, This _comming of the Lord | draweth neere_[c]: _Behold the | [Note c: _Iam. 5. 8, 9._] Iudge standeth at the doore, He is | readie to iudge the Quicke and the | Dead_ (saith Saint _Peter_[d]) | [Note d: _1 Pet. 4. 5._] readie to commend them, whom the | world hath condemned; and to | condemne them, whom worldlings haue | commended: readie to reueale vnto | the whole world the good workes of | the godly, _Honorifico pietatis | testimonio_, with an honourable | approbation of their blessed | godlinesse; & also to reueale vnto | the whole world the wicked Deeds of | the vngodly, _Manifesto impietatis | vituperio_, with a publike, and | open, vncontrouleable | Discommendation of their cursed | wickednesse[e]: yea the Iudge is | [Note e: _Mat. 25. 34, 41._] ready to turne _Laudabitur_ into | _Laudatur_, her praise worthinesse | that feareth Him for euer, into | euerlasting Praise; so that should | her Husband and Children faile to | praise Her, which yet they do not, | for they commend Her in the 29. | verse of this Chapter, saying: | _Many daughters haue done | vertuously; but thou excellest them | all_[f]: or should the Godly cease | [Note f: _Prou. 31. 28, 29._] to praise Her, which they will | neuer do either here or in | [Note g: _Cant. 6. 9._] Heauen[g]. Here Her remembrance is | so sweet in all their mouthes, that | [Note h: _Eccles. 39. 10. Eccles. they say:[h] Let her Memory be | 44. 15. Eccles. 49. 1._] blessed: _Let her bones flourish | out of her place_; and _Let the | [Note i: _Eccles. 46. 11, 12._] name of Her that was honoured be | continued vpon her Children_[i]: or | [Note k: _Reuel. 4. 13._] should Her owne workes giue ouer | praising Her in the Gates, which | [Note l: _Gen. 4. 4. Act. 10. they are forbidden to doe, vers. | 35. 1 Pet. 2. 5._] 31. of this Chapter; yet God | himselfe will haue _Her workes | [Note m: _Hebr. 13. 15._] follow her to Heauen_[k], and | _Accepting of her_[l], and _Them, | [Note n: _Esai. 8. 13._] by Christ Iesus_[m], _Hee himselfe | will praise Her, that hath made Him | [Note o: _Deut. 10. 21._] Her Feare_[n], _Her praise_[o], | saying: _Well done thou good and | [Note p: _Matth. 25. 21._] faithfull seruant, thou hast beene | faithfull ouer a few things, I will | [Note q: _Perfecta Die laudatio make thee ruler ouer many things, | magis anim[=a] perficit, quàm Dei Enter thou into the ioy of thy | fruitio, quia magis lætatur in Lord_[p]. Where it is best to leaue | Gloriâ & plus gaudebit de Dei Her, euen with her Lord, taking | gloriâ & honore, quàm de suâ more ioy (as a Schoole-man teacheth | Glorificatione, & plus iocundabitur truly) in praising Him, than in | in laudando Domin[=u], quàm in contemplating her owne praise, in | consider[=a]do proprium bon[=u]. Glorifying God, than in her owne | Bonau. l. 3. d. 1. q. 1, p. 66._ Glorification[q]. | A selm. Prosolog. c. 15. & 16._] | But though we haue brought a Godly | Woman where she would be, to | Heauenly Praise, and Honour, and | Glory, and found them by Gods free | fauour in Christ giuen vnto Her; | yet who is such a Woman? We haue | not found Her yet; and why not yet? | Because among other reasons, as | Saint _Ierom_ was afraid to entreat | of the Death of that Venerable | Matron _Paula_[r]; so am I to | [Note r: _Quid agimus anima? cur ad speake of the Decease of this | mortem eius venire formidas?--S. Honourable Lady. Therefore giue me | Ier. Epitaph. Paulæ. Epist. ad leaue (beloued) to deferre the | Principiam. Gal. 3. 28._] vncomfortable Passions of her | Death, vntill I be a little better | heartened by relating some of the | laudable actions of her Life. | | For the subiect then of my Text, I | [Note: _Application. The Lady dare say, in regard of the | deceased. Mulier Tim[=e]s Description thereof, your owne | Dominum._] consciences haue made the | Application, and doe witnesse for | Her, that She was _A Woman fearing | the Lord_. A Woman indeed, & so the | _Weaker Vessell_[s], yet | [Note s: _1 Pet. 3. 7._] neuerthelesse Honour to be giuen | Her in that respect; but rather the | more (as Saint _Peters_ inference | will allow) because though shee had | _This Treasure of the Feare of the | Lord in an Earthen and in a Weaker | Vessell_[t], yet Gods strength was | [Note t: _Esai. 33. 6. 2 Cor. 4. made perfect in her Weaknesse. And | 7._] it is S. _Ieroms_ rule[u], you | should iudge of Vertues, _Non | [Note u: _--Non considerantes Sexa, sed Animo_: Not by the Sex, | Holdam & Annam ac Debboram, viris but by the Minde and constant | tac[=e]tibus prophetasse, & in purpose of a Regenerate Heart: This | seruitute Christi nequaquam makes the Difference of force in | differentiam Sexuum valere; sed the seruice of Christ, not either | Mentium. S. Ierom. Eustoch._] Male or Female. | | Suruey then (if you please) as | [Note: _The workings of Godly feare briefly as you wil, the seuerall | in regard of Her: Husb[=a]d: workings of Her Godly Feare. | Children._] | First to Her Head, her Subiection | and Helpfulnesse like that of Saint | _Augustines_ Mother to his | [Note x: _S. Aug. Confess. lib. 9. Father[x]. | cap. 9._] | To Her Children, her tenderest | Affection and Sollicitousnesse to | plant _the feare of the Lord_ in | their hearts, to fit them with | worthy Matches out of Religious | Families, to adorne her onely Sonne | with the richest endowments of | Grace and Learning: Witnesse her | Letters to that Learned | Professour[A] in our famous | [Note A: Doct. _Prideaux_ Rector of Vniuersitie, worthy to be kept as a | Exceter College in _Oxford._] Monument of her truly Noble spirit | and Godly Desire (like that of | [Note y: _Greg. Nazian. in Laudem _Gregory Nazianzen's_ Sister) to | Gorgon. Orat. 25._] haue the fruit of her Body become | the fruit of the Spirit[y]. | [Note a: _S. Ier. ad Princip. | Nusquam sine Matre &c.--_] To Her Parents, shee was another | _Rachel_, another _Marcella_[a]. | [Note: _Parents._] | To Her Kindred by mariage another | [Note: _Kindred._] _Ruth_, and to them by bloud | another _Hester_. | | To Her Seruants, shee was | [Note: _Seruants._] bountifull in their Health; | compassionate (as _Fabiola_[b]) in | [Note b: _Id. Epitaph. Fabiola._] their Sicknesse, either of Minde or | of Body, prouiding for them (like | the Centurion) both spirituall and | corporall Physicke. | | To All, Her whole Deportment was so | [Note: _Religious Deportm[=e]t to Louely, so sweet, what _by the law | all._] of kindnesse in her tongue_[c], | Salutations, Gifts, Almes-Deeds, | [Note c: _Prou. 31. 26._] Visitations, Inuitations, and by | other offices of courtesies and | Hospitalities, that Her Amiable | Behauiour was a powerfull Meanes, | an attractiue Load-stone to draw | vnto Her the hearts and loues of as | many as knew Her, yea as but heard | of Her. | | But vnto Gods children she euer | [Note: _Especially vn-vnto Gods only afforded the dearest pangs, | people._] the highest Degree of her kindest | Affection[d]: Their company she | [Note d: _Psal. 16. 3. Psal. 119. most loued, and they Hers. Not so | 63, 79. Gal. 6. 10. 1 Pet. 2. much in regard of Her fauour | 17. Coloss. 1. 4._] towards them, which was great; but | chiefly by reason of that spiritual | Helpe and refreshment, which they | might get by conuersing with Her in | the choicest passages of | Sanctification. For shee had the | Art to vphold holy conferences | about perplexities of conscience, | Relapses into sin, and Remedies | against the same: Shee had the | skill to beget many ioyfull | Meditations of mortifying Grace and | euerlasting Glory: She had the | Zeale to nourish Heauenly | mindednesse, boldnesse in the | waies, and cheerefulnesse in the | exercises of Religion and Deuotion. | | Touching Her submission to the | [Note: _Constant vse of the Meanes Meanes of Saluation: O what delight | of Saluation._] shee tooke here and in _London_, to | heare conscionable and searching | Sermons! It was Her onely Pleasure | in that Citie (as she professed) to | frequent them there; yea what | Griefe was it vnto Her (as it was | vnto Saint _Ambrose_) to heare of | the Death of any of Gods zealous | [Note e: _Paulin. in Vitâ D. Ministers[e]? | Ambros._] | And should I be silent, yet Her | Oratory in her house hereby, this | Church too (a part whereof her | Zeale, together with her Honourable | Husbands Loue to Gods House newly | erected) that Closset also of Hers | in _Truro_, yea euery place almost | would speake aloud of her constant | reading, hearing, meditating on the | Word, solemne Humiliations, | solitary conferences with her God, | feruent prayers and eiaculations, | which (as the sweetest incense) | shee euer and anon sent vp to the | Throne of Grace for the pardon of | her sinnes, the fauour of God, the | spirituall Good of her Dearest | Husband, Children, and Gods Church. | | But adde vnto all these, another | [Note: _Vnfained Resolution to more speciall, essentiall, and | mortifie her most preuailing superiour working of Her Godly | Sinne._] Feare, and that was Her continuall | Combating against all sinne, euen | Her most commanding sin whatsoeuer | that was[f]. For there was a time | [Note f: _Psal. 18. 23. Rom. 7. to my knowledge, when after the | 21, 22, 23, 24._] preaching vnto Her of the power and | efficacie of Gods promises, and of | Christs Death and Resurrection, for | the mortifying and mastering of any | bosome and beloued sinne, you might | easily see in Her, how willingly | [Note g: _Psal. 119. 6, 8. Act. she yeelded vnto the Sanctifying | 11. 23._] worke of the Holy Ghost for the | Ouer-comming of her strongest | [Note h: _Mic. 7. 18. 1 Ioh. 1. corruptions, how heauily shee was | 9. Rom. 6. 14. Ez. 36. 25. 2 displeased with relapses into | Cor. 12. 7, 9._] smaller offences of daily incursion | against the generall and constant | [Note i: _Rom. 6. 4, 5, &c. Vis, purpose[g] of her heart not to | inquam, illa Christi mortis nobis sinne in anything; how faithfully | communicatur, vt per h[=a]c she rested vpon those sweetest[h] | Christivim moriamur peccato, sicut promises of God (which she | Christus peccato semel mortitus confessed she had not erst so well | est, id est, non vt peccatum nobis weighed) for the mortifying of | non imputitur, (id enim ad speciall infirmities, and how | Iustisicationem pertinct) sed vt vnfainedly shee resolued to set her | peccati vis iam non sit in nobis Faith on worke, to draw not onely | efficax, immo verò contrà freti vi assurance of pardon from the Merit | illâ Christi, cui per Spiritum of Christs Death and Resurrection; | Sanctum coniuncti sumus, peccatum but also that Power and efficacie | occidamus.--pistiemò quia non satis which is in them, to _Die to Sinne, | est n[=o] peccare; sed etiam benè and Liue to Righteousnesse_.[i] | agere oportet, eadem vis illa | Christi, quâ victor peccati et This was the Life of this Elect | mortis in carne nostrâ viuere Lady fearing the Lord, and | coepit Deo--nobiscum communicata therefore she hath right and | coepit Deo--nobiscum communicata interest to all those Honourable | facit vt &c. Beza epist. Theolog. Attributes of Praise, which you | 45. p. 211._] heard euen now God himselfe giue | her in His owne words. | [Note k: _Eccles. 8. 8._] | But O my Soule what dost thou? Why | [Note l: _S. Ierom. Eustoch. art thou yet afraid to come to her | Epitaph. Paul._] Death? as if while I held my peace | and were busied in Her Praises, Her | [Note m: _Neq, par[=u] distat inter Death could be deferred? Alâs it | has lachrymas Deuotionis & ætatis could not by all the Meanes that | vtiq, iam virilis, atque eas quas were vsed. For _No man_ (saith the | primæus ætas inter infantiæ vagit' Preacher) _hath power ouer the | emisit, lachrymas vtiq, poenitentiæ spirit to retaine the spirit_[k]. | & confessionis. Veruntamen longè Then speake of her Death I must, | amplius vtrisque procèdunt aliæ and yet (to make vse of S. | quæd[=a] lachrymæ, quibus in _Ierom's_ words in a like case) | funditur sapor vini. Illas enim _Quis possit siccis oculis Paulam | lachrymas verè in vin[=u] mutari narrare morientem[l]?_ Who can | dixerim, quæ Fraternæ Compassionis relate the Death of the Lady | affectu in feruore prode[=u]t _Frances Roberts_ without shedding | charitatis, pro qua eti[=a] ad some Teares of Compassion, of | horam tui ipsius immemor esse, Deuotion, yea and of Compunction | sobria quad[=a] ebrietate videris._ too[m]? Shee deserues some Teares | _S. Bern. in Epiph. Dom. Serm. 3._] from vs (Beloued) as well as from | the Poore, weeping now and shewing | [Note: _Bountie to the Poore._] the Coats and garments which this | _Dorcas_ made for them, while she | [Note n: _Act. 9. 36._] was with them[n]. | | But to stop the current of them a | little longer. Begin we with Gods | mercifull preseruation of Her in | _London_ from the noysome | [Note: _Thãkfulnesse for Pestilence; because she | Deliuerance from the Plague._] acknowledged it (as was meet) with | humble Thankfulnesse[o]. And then | [Note o: _Psal. 91. 7. Psal. 50. remember, that vpon Her returne | 15. Psal. 33. 1._] home, being summoned by Sicknesse, | by and by she set her _House in | order_, like _Hezekiah_; She spake | to the Hearts of Her Children, | Friends, and Seruants, that were | then about Her (like _Iacob_) by | putting them in remembrance of Her | Departure and their Duties: She | hungered and thirsted after the | Body and Bloud of Her Dearest | [Note: _Worthy receiving the Sauiour, which shee receiued with | Sacrament._] Due Examination[p] of Her | Knowledge; Faith; Loue and | [Note p: _1 Cor. 1. 28._] Repentance, with reuerent Gesture, | heartie Thankfulnesse, deuout | Attention, and very Fruitfully to | the greater strengthning and | refreshing of Her Soule then | trauelling for the other Life. | | And now (Beloued) that she lieth on | the bed of Languishing, we must not | be austere in reprehending euery | Infirmity; but Pitifull in | considering the tender frailtie of | it. | | For what though shee were (as Sicke | [Note: _Passionatnesse by reason of folke are commonly[A]) more | Spiritual and Bodily Dist[)e]per._] Passionate than others, yea than | Her selfe in Her health, yet if God | [Note A: [Greek: Dusareston hoi iudgeth not according to the | nosountes aporias hupo] _Eurip. strange Effects and Symptoms of Her | Orest._] sicknesse, not according to the | short moment and violent passions | of Her Death; but according to the | holy Actions of Her Health, the | former Affections of Her Heart, and | the Generall Course of Her Life[q]; | [Note q: M^r. _Greenham_. 1. Treat. then it is our Dutie, not seuerely | for Afflict. Consc. fol. III. part to censure her passionatenesse, who | 2.] by reason of the parching Feauer of | the Spirit, as well as of the Body, | was disquieted in her Imagination | (as the Physitian of the body could | discerne) though not in her Memory. | Consider therefore O Man (as that | excellent Physitian of the Soule | aduiseth thee[r]) if thou canst | [Note r: _Id. Of Death, fol. 9. beare with a fraile Body, that thou | part 2._] must much more beare with a fraile | Minde and Body too. Consider also O | Man, that this her Pettishnesse did | more wound her to the heart, than | any iniury thou couldst presse her | with. Neither doe I speake this to | nourish passion in any, or to proue | her Anger to be Sinlesse[s]; but to | [Note s: _Vitemus ergò aut be a lesse Sinne, because her | temperemus irac[=u]diam: ne sit Spirituall and Bodily Distemper was | eius aut in Laudibus exceptio, aut so great, or rather because her | Off. lib. 1. cap. 21._] Faith quenched the flame of this | fiery passion in Christs Bloud, | resolued and melted her heart into | many penitent Teares afterwards. | [Note: _Repentance for the same._] Oh, said she to me, (pressing her | with _Dauids_ example, _Psal. | 131._) In my Health I could digest | any iniury, and deemed it base and | vngodly, not to be able to doe so; | but now (I know not how) me thinkes | I am ouer-tender in bearing them. I | am impatient indeed, and then I | weepe for my impatiencie. For I | know (as she her selfe vrged) _The | wrath of Man doth not accomplish | [Note t: _Iam. 1. 20. Psalm. 4. the Righteousnesse of God_[t]. | 4._] | Thus shee was Angrie with her selfe | [Note u: _Ephes. 4. 26. Vel certè for being Angrie with others, and | sic: Si irascimini, vobis then (according to Saint _Ambroses_ | irascimini, quia commoti estis, & rule) it ceased towards them before | non peccabitis. Qui enim sibi the Sunne went down[u]; and was not | irascitur, quia citò c[=o]motus this Holy Reuenge on her selfe a | est, desinit irasci alteri. Id. true fruit of Euangelicall | ibid._] Repentance? _2 Cor. 7. 11._ | | But aye me! me thinkes I now heare | [Note: _Her Agonie._] her groaning vunder the dolefull | pangs of Death, vnder those pangs | of which shee had foretold saying: | I shall suffer much more ere I goe | hence. And can any haue the heart | to heare her groaning pangs, | without renting his owne heart from | his darling pleasure? without | lamenting his owne sinnes, which | vnlesse he forsake betimes, will | bring him to euerlasting | [Note x: _Ezek. 18. 13, 30._] Burnings[x]? or without learning to | compassionate euery weake one, to | [Note y: _--Si quem viderimus assist any one yeelding vp the | pauper[=e] moriturum, sumptu Ghost, because (as Saint _Ambrose_ | iuvemus, & dicat vnusquisq, giues the reason[y]) the holy | nostrûm: Benedictio morituri in me Peophet _Iob_ desired the Blessing | veniat: Si qu[=e] viderimus of one, that lyes a Dying: | debilem, non deseramus, si quem in _Benedictio morituri, in me veniat: | extremis positum, non relinquam^s._ Let the blessing of him that is | _S. Ambros. de Bono Mort. cap. 8. readie to die, come vpon me!_ | tom. 4._] | Let vs then, not yet, leaue this | [Note: _Deuotion at Her Death._] Departing Saint. For in the midst | of this her Agonie, after shee had | layen groaning many houres without | any articulate or distinct speech, | yet vpon triall made of Her sense | and memory by demanding of Her, | whether she would haue prayers made | for Her, she answered plainly: With | all my heart, pray, pray. And then | as _Gregory Nazianzen_[a] reports | [Note a: _Orat. 28. de Funere of his Father, that though He was | Patris. Tom. 2._] daily, yea hourely, in great paine | before his Death, yet He was euer | still and quiet from paine, onely | while Diuine Seruice was saying; so | this Deuout Lady forgetting (as it | were) Her former Groanings, did | listen attentiuely to the prayers | that were made for Her, without | fetching so much as one sob during | that time. And afterwards | rehearsing distinctly part of the | Lords Prayer, you might heare Her, | when S. _Stephens_ Vision and last | words[b] were read vnto Her, repeat | [Note b: _Act. 7. 53, 56, 59._] very often these last words of Her | Sauiour[c]: _O Heauenly Father into | [Note c: _Luke 23. 46._] thy hands I commend my spirit_. | Thus on a sudden I haue told you | [Note A: _Reuel. 14. 13._] how she _Dyed in the Lord_[A], and | is _with Christ_[B]. | [Note B _Phil. 1. 23._] | And though we saw her afterwards | mouing her lips; but heard not her | Voice, no more than they that were | at Saint _Ambroses_ Death did heare | [Note d: _Paulin. in D. Ambros his Voice; but only saw his lips | Vita._] moue[d]; yet we must not thinke | _The Spirit of strength_[e], of | [Note e: _Esai. 11. 2._] _Prayer_ and _Grace_[f], is then | onely strong, when we heare a Dying | [Note f: _Zach. 12. 10._] Saint pray, because Christs Spirit | cries in Gods Children, _Abba, | Father_[g], with Vnutterable | [Note g: _Gal. 4. 6._] Groanings[h] which we cannot heare, | and therefore I doubt not, but this | [Note h: _Rom. 8. 26._] Elect Lady cried loudest in Gods | eares, when we heard not her words; | and why may we not thinke now, our | sinnes hindered vs from hearing | them? I am sure, heretofore she | hath spoken againe and againe many | Heart-piercing speeches to deterre | from Sinne, and to allure to | Holinesse of Life. If she be not | hearkened to now, henceforth wee | shall heare Her speake no more. _I | charge you therefore before God and | the Lord Iesus Christ, and the | Elect Angells_:[A] you (I say) I | [Note A: _1 Tim. 5. 21._] charge whomsoeuer shee hath iustly | reproued for any Sin, that you | forsake those Sins; and whomsoeuer | she hath zealously exhorted to holy | Duties, that you performe those | holy Duties, for henceforth you | shall heare Her speake no more. | | But why should I detaine thee | [Note: _Conclusion. Sed quid ego te (Honourable Lady) any longer? Or | morer Frater? quid expectem? vt what doe you (Beloued) expect more? | nostra tecum c[=o]moriatur et quasi That our speech also should Die | consepeliatur oratio? S. Ambr. de together with Hers, and (as it | Obitu fratris. Tom. 3._] were) be Buried together with Her. | O my Blessed Brethren, suffer | neither this Godly Lady, nor Gods | word to depart so dishonourably | from you. | | Suffer not Her so to depart from | [Note: I. you; but let her euer liue in your | _Imitation of Her Vertues._] breasts by Esteeming Her very | highly in loue for Her workes sake, | [Note i: _Ideò laude oris ad by Commemorating Gods Graces in | Hominem vtimur, vt alios apud quos Her; but aboue all by Imitating her | laudatur, in bonam opinionem, & Faith and Vertues[i]. Then you | Reuerentiam, & Imitationem ipsius shall not need to grieue very much | inducamus. Thom. Aquin. 22. q. for Her Absence from you; because | 91._] she is _with Christ, which is best | of all_[k]; because she is _Taken | [Note k: _Phil. 1. 23.--Et Christum away_, not from you; but _from the | lædimus cùm euocatos quosque ab euill to come, Esai. 57. 1._ From | illo quasi miserandos non you shee is not Taken, but from | æquanimitèr accipimus. Cupio, seeing the plagues and miseries of | inquit Apostolus, recipi iam ... this wretched world, yea from | Ergo votum si alios consequutos seeing the future Deaths of you, | impatientèr dolemus, ipsi consequi Her Dearest friends[l], for whom | nolumus. Tertul. de Patient. cap. she would haue wept full bitterly; | 9. Temperet sanè Dilecti Gaudi[=u], but you haue greater Cause, if you | moestitiam desolatorum, & will heare S. _Ambrose_ and S. | tolerabilius fiat nobis, quod _Ierome_ comforting themselues in a | Nobiscum non est, quia cum Deo like case, to Reioyce[m] and to | est. Ber. in Cant. ser. 27._] giue God thankes[n], that you Haue | had Her, nay that you Haue Her, if | [Note l: _Non enim nobis ereptus so be you follow Her good example, | es, sed periculis.--raptus est ne and represent her to the life by | totius orbis excidia, mundi finem, your Godly Life. | propinquor[=u] funera, &c. S. | Ambros. de Obitu Fratru. fol. 17._] To conclude: I beseech you all | (Blessed Brethren) Suffer not the | [Note: II. Word of God, which you haue heard | _Practise of Gods word._] this day, for want of the Feare of | God, which is _The firmest | [Note m: _Lætandum est enim magis, foundation of Gods word_[o], to | quòd talem fratrem habuerim, quàm vanish into aire, into nothing, to | dolendum, quòd fratrem amiserim. rebound from your flintie hearts | Illud enim munus, hoc debitum est._ (as a shaft shot against a wall of | _Idem ibid. fol. 13._] Adamant[p];) but in Gods Name, Let | the Sword of Gods Spirit sunder | [Note n: _Non mæremus quod talem euery one of our minion sinnes from | amisimus, sed gratias agimus, quòd our bosomes: Let Gods pretious | habuimus, immo habemus. S. Ierom. promise here of praising a _Woman | Epitaph. Paulæ._] that feareth the Lord_, feare vs | from our strongest corruptions. | [Note o: _Basis quædam Verbi est _Atq vtinam præconia foeminarum, | Timor sanctus. Sicut enim imitarentur viri_. And I may well | simulachrum aliquod in Basi wish with Saint _Ierome_, that Men | statuitur----ita verbum Dei in would emulate and imitate Women in | Timore Sancto melius statuitur, their deserued attributions of | fortiùs radicatur, hoc est, in Praise[q]. Lastly, if you desire to | pectore timentis Dominum--S. know, besides this motiue of | Ambros. in Psal. 118. Serm. 5._] obtaining Heauenly praise, what | other Meanes you should vse to get, | [Note: III. _Means to Godly keepe and increase such a godly | Feare._] Feare in you, then consider the | examples of Gods dreadfull | [Note p: _Iam. 1. 22. Zach. 7. iudgements[r] on them, that Feare | 12._] Him not, yea on Christ Iesus | Himselfe pursued for our sins[s] to | [Note q: _S. Ierom. epist. ad the fulnesse of Bitternesse by the | Furiam._] iustice of God, consider that | first. Then remember your owne | [Note r: _1 Cor. 10. 11. Reuel. Deaths to haue them before you[t], | 14. 7._] remember your strict Accounts to be | made[u], remember the restlesse | [Note s: _Esai. 57. 11. & 53. 5. Terrour of Conscience[x], which | Mat. 27. 46._] followes the impenitent, and then | or neuer you will _Feare the Lord | [Note t: _Eccles. 3. 14. Iob 7. Greatly_, as _Obadiah_ and this | 1. Psal. 39. 4. & 90. 12._] Blessed Lady did. Be not deceiued | (my Brethren) after all this | [Note u: _2 Cor. 5. 10. Matth. Hearing, it is not a Little Feare | 12. 36._] will serue the turne. For to Feare | God but a little (as _Fulgentius_ | [Note x: _Rom. 2. 15. Reu. 6. saith) is to contemne Him very | 16. Psal. 18. 23. Prou. 8. much[y]. It must bee at least so | 13._] Great a Feare, as must feare you | from your Greatest, your Sweetest | [Note: IV. _So Great a Feare as Sinne whatsoeuer that be, else if | must feare vs from our Bosome you Die in it[a] without Repentance | Sinne._] (which God forbid) your _Worme | shall not die, neither shall your | [Note y: _--Hunc si quis parum fire be quenched, and you shall | metuit, valde contemmi--B. Fulg. de be_, not a praise, but _an | Myst. Mediat. ad Trasim. l.2. pag. Abhorring to all flesh_, the last | 215._] verse of the Prophet _Esay_ with | _Iames 2. 10._[b], and _Ezekiel. | [Note a: _Si in solo vno peccato 18. 10, 11, 13._ | decesserit Homo, irreuocabilitèr | mittitur in ignem æternum--Gerson. | 2. p. de Mendicit. Spirit. lit. D & | H. part. 3._] | | [Note b: _Ex parte enim Auersionis | dicit Iacobus qui offendit in vno | factus est omnium reus, quia | scilicet vno peccato peccando | incurrit poenæ reatum, ex hoc, quod | contemnit Deum, ex cuius contemptu | prouenit omnium peccator[=u] | reatus. Aquin. 12. q. 73. a.1 ad | fin. Peccatum enim remitti non | potest, quam disi Voluntas peccato | adheret. Idem. p. 3. q. 87. a. 1. _Knowing therefore_ (as Saint _Paul_| c. & q. 86. a. 2. c. Vnde non concludes[c]) _the terrour of the | potest esse vere poenitens, qui de Lord, we perswade you_ (Blessed | vno peccato poenitet, & non de Brethren) _to feare God_ Greatly, | alio. Si enim displiceret ei illud and to _Giue Glory vnto Him_[d]; | peccatum, quia est contra Deum then you _shall haue praise of | super omnia dilectum--Sequeretur, Him_, then hee _will glorifie_ you; | quod de omnibus peccatis and to say no more than this (with | poeniteret. Id. q. 86. a. 3. the Prophet _Ieremie_[e],) which | c._] will make the Fearlesse Sinner | inexcusable: _Who would not feare | [Note: V. thee O Lord, thou King of Nations, | _Reasons to feare the Lord._] thou King of Saints?_ 1. _For thou | onely art Holy:_ 2. _For all | [Note c: _2 Cor. 5. 10, 11._] Nations shall come vnto thee, and | worship thee_: 3. _For thy | [Note d: _Reuel. 14. 7._] iudgements are made manifest_[f]: | 4. _For there is none like vnto | [Note e: _Ier. 10. 7._] thee, that pardoneth Iniquitie, and | passeth by the Transgression of the | [Sidenote: VI. remnant of thy Heritage[g]?_ Who | _Prayer for Godly Feare._] would not Feare Thee such an | _Almightie, All-seeing, Iust, | [Note f: _Reuel. 15. 4._] Mercifull Lord God? Put thy feare | therefore in our Hearts_ (as thou | [Note g: _Mic. 7. 18._] hast promised[h]) _that wee may | neuer depart from thee_; but | [Note h: _Ier. 32. 39._] clinging inseparably by a liuely | faith, vnto the bleeding wounds of | [Note i: _Si enim amamus Christum, our Blessed Redeemer, may without | vtiq aduentum eius desiderare all slauish Feare[i] of Death and | debemus. Peruersum enim est, & Iudgement, Louingly[k] appeare | nescio vtrum ver[=u], quem diligis, before thy Iudgement-seat, and | timere ne veniat, orare, Veniat without desperate _Crying to the | regn[=u] tu[=u], & timere, ne mountains and rocks Fall on vs_[l], | exaudiaris. Vnde autem timor? ... may ioyfully heare Thee say vnto | Quisquis ergò futur[=u] iudic[=e] vs: _Come ye Blessed of my Father, | times, præsent[=e] c[=o]scienti[=a] Inherit the Kingdome prepared for | tu[=a] corrige. S. Aug. in Psal. you from the foundation of the | 147. tom 3._] world_[m]. | | [Note k: _2 Tim. 4. 8._] Which God grants vnto vs all, for | the All-sufficient Merits of his | [Note l: _Reuel. 6. 16._] Dearest Sonne, the Sweet Lord | Iesus: To whom with Himselfe and | [Note m: _Matth. 25. 34._] the Holy Spirit be ascribed _All | Praise, Honour, Glory, Power, | Dominion and Maiestie, now and | euer. Amen. Amen._ | FINIS. 
20446	----	"AMERICA FOR AMERICANS!" THE TYPICAL AMERICAN. _Thanksgiving Sermon_ OF Rev. John P. Newman, D.D., LL.D., AT METROPOLITAN M. E. CHURCH, WASHINGTON, D. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 25TH, 1886. Subject: "OUR PLACE AMONG THE NATIONS." PUBLISHED BY REQUEST OF THE CONGREGATION. WASHINGTON: RUFUS H. DARBY, PRINTER. 1886. FOR SALE BY C. C. PURSELL. Ten Cents per Copy. Fifteen Copies for One Dollar. * * * * * WASHINGTON, D. C., _Nov. 26th, 1886_. REV. J. P. NEWMAN, D.D.: DEAR SIR: The universal approval by every loyal, liberty-loving American citizen who listened to your Thanksgiving sermon yesterday, together with the philosophic and fearless manner with which the great themes therein discussed were treated, prompts a desire to extend its influence by a wider circulation than even that large congregation can give. We would, therefore, to meet the wishes of the congregation as expressed by their unanimous vote at the close of the discourse, request that you furnish us with a copy for publication. Very respectfully, J. C. TASKER, J. D. CROISSANT, A. P. LACEY, GEO. H. LA FETRA, B. CHARLETON. * * * * * WASHINGTON, D. C., _Nov. 30th, 1886_. DEAR FRIENDS: The sermon has excited a public interest beyond any thought of mine. I herewith send you the stenographic report of the discourse, made by Messrs. Dawson and Tasker. The wisdom of your request is confirmed by many letters from eminent citizens here and abroad, commending the sentiment and demanding the publication. I would like to print some of these letters, indicative of the deep feeling on this great subject. As stated in the sermon, intelligent foreigners approve my course. The Germans of Wisconsin have sent me a copy of their memorial to Congress, asking for such a modification of our naturalization laws as will protect our free institutions from selfish and ignorant immigrants. The intelligent foreigners have taken the initiative. Your Pastor, JOHN P. NEWMAN. AMERICA FOR AMERICANS. "I have set thee on high above all the nations of the earth."--Deut. xxviii., 1. By the voice of magisterial authority this secular day has been hushed into the sacred quiet of a national Sabbath. From savannahs and prairies, from valleys and mountains, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, more than fifty millions of freemen have been invited to gather around the altars of the God of our fathers, and pour forth the libation of their gratitude to Him who is the giver of every good and perfect gift. If in all the past, nations have made public recognition of the divinities which have presided over their destiny, according to their faith and practice, it is but reasonable and highly appropriate that we, as a Christian people, enlightened as no other people, favored as no other nation, should once in the twelve months consecrate a day to the recognition of Him whose throne is on the circle of the heavens, who is the benefactor of the husbandman, the genius of the artisan, the inspiration of the merchant, and from whom comes all those personal, domestic, social, and national benedictions which render us a happy people and this day memorable in the annals of time. If the year that ends to-day has been marked with severity it has also been distinguished by goodness. If chastisements have come to us as individuals, families, communities, and as a nation; if the earthquake, and the tornado, and the conflagration, have combined to teach us our dependence on the Supreme Being--all these should be esteemed as ministers of the Highest to teach us that we are pensioners upon the infinite bounty of the Almighty; that in our prosperity we should remember His mercies; in our adversity we should deplore our transgressions. It is evident to the most casual observer that the past year has been significant in the manifestations of divine guidance and goodness. To-day peace reigns throughout our vast domain. No foreign foe invades our shores. How superior our condition by way of contrast with our neighbors on this side of the globe. In contrast with Central and South America, the home of turbulence and misrule, where ignorance, combined with a perverted Christianity, has darkened and enslaved; where the wheels of industry have been impeded and the march to a higher civilization obstructed--how bold the contrast between these two sections of our continent--a contrast that must be suggestive to every thoughtful mind and awaken the question whether this is due to what some call the fortuities of national life or whether it is the result of a genius of government that is sublime and a religion that is divine. And if we turn our eyes over the great deep to the most favored nations beyond the Atlantic, the contrast inspires grateful emotions, and we are equally led to contemplate the causes which have brought about a condition so favorable to us. The most venerable nations in Europe, countries that have lived through more than a millennium, are to-day shaken by internal disturbance. Those institutions which have come down from the hoary past, which have been considered pre-eminent in the affections and faith of mankind, now topple to their fall. "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown," whether man or woman; and no government in Europe is in a state of peaceful security. Alarm dwells in the palace. Fear, like a bloody phantom, haunts the throne, and the vast nations of Europe, with all their agriculture and commerce and manufacture, and all their majesty of law and ordinances of religion, are maintained in a questionable peace by not less than three millions of men armed to the teeth; while in this country, so vast in its domain, so complicated in its population, from North to South, from East to West, preserved in peace, not by standing armies or floating navies, but by a moral sense, a quickened conscience, the guardian of our homes, our altars, and our nation. Certainly the farmer stands nearest to God. Agriculture underlies all national wealth. The farmer ministers to the wants of king and prince, of president and senator; the farmer must be esteemed as the direct medium of blessing through whom God manifests his goodness to the nation. We have been accustomed to such phenomenal crops that it almost goes without saying that the past year has been phenomenal in its agricultural productions. Indeed there has been a wealth in the soil, a wealth in the mines, a wealth in the seas, which awakens astonishment and admiration in the minds of those beyond the deep--for it is a statistical fact that our agricultural products for the year just closing is not less than three and a half thousand millions of dollars in valuation. How difficult to appreciate the fact! One thousand seven hundred million bushels of corn, valued at five hundred and eighty millions of dollars; four hundred and fifty million bushels of wheat, valued at three hundred and fifty-five millions of dollars; six and a half million bales of cotton, estimated in valuation at two hundred and fifty millions of dollars. And including all the other agricultural products, the statistician of the Government estimates the value at three and a half thousand millions of dollars. And this is but a repetition of other years. No! It exceeds other years! It is a great fact that one and a half millions of square miles of cultivated land in this country now subject to the plow could feed a thousand millions of persons, and then we could have five thousand millions of bushels of grain for exportation. In ten years, from 1870 to 1880, we produced over seven hundred millions of dollars of precious metals, and the last year the valuation is estimated at seventy-five millions in gold and silver; and rising above these colossal and phenomenal figures, our great manufacturing people during the past year have produced not less than five thousand millions of dollars in valuation. The mind staggers in the presence of these tremendous facts. Then our national wealth is as phenomenal as are the annual products of soil, and mine, and skill, and commerce. In 1880 our national wealth was estimated at forty-four thousand millions of dollars, which would buy all Russia, Turkey, Italy, South Africa, and South America--possessions inhabited by not less than one hundred and seventy-seven millions of people. This enormous national wealth exceeds the wealth of Great Britain by two hundred and seventy-six millions of dollars. England's wealth is the growth of centuries, while our wealth, at the most, can be said to be the growth of one century. Nay, the fact is that most of ours has been created in the last twenty years. In 1860 our national wealth was estimated at sixteen thousand millions of dollars. But from 1860 to 1880 our wealth increased twenty-eight thousand millions of dollars--ten thousand millions more than the entire wealth of the Empire of Russia. From 1870 to 1880, ten years, the increase was twenty thousand millions. This is without a parallel. Surely these great facts call upon the President of the United States to convoke the freemen of this country around their religious altars to offer their gratitude and praise to Him from whom cometh all these blessings; for in His hand are the resources of national wealth. With him are the ministers of good and the ministers of evil. He can marshal the insect. He can excite the malaria. He can call forth the tornado. He can put down his foot and wreck the earth with earthquake throes. The ministers of evil are with Him, and stand with closed eyes and folded wings around His throne, but not with deaf ears, waiting to hear His summons, "Go forth." So also around His throne stand the angels of plenty, in whose footfalls rise the golden harvest; who quicken human genius on the land, on the ocean, the artificer, the artisan, the scholar, the philanthropist, and the patriot. It is by these resources of good and evil, forever the ministers of the great God, we learn our dependence on Him; it is with the utmost propriety that this Christian nation recognize Him as God over all and blessed forevermore. It is eminently proper on a national day like this, standing in the presence of these phenomenal mercies, these crowning plenties, that we differentiate ourselves from the nations of our own continent and from the most favored nations beyond the sea. It is proper for us to inquire the divine purpose in placing us among the nations of the earth, and what is our great mission. There are certain facts which prophesy--for facts are as eloquent in prophetic announcement as are the lips of prophet or seer. We should remember that our location is everything to us as a national power, of intelligence and wealth, and that this location is in the wake of national prosperity and greatness. It may have escaped your notice that around this globe is a narrow zone, between the thirtieth and sixtieth parallels of north latitude, and within that narrow zone is our home. Within that belt of power have existed all the great nations of the past, and in it exist all the great nations of the present. What is there in this charmed circle, in this favored zone, that brings national power? We may contract this zone by ten degrees and the same thing is true. It is true that north of this zone there have been nations of wealth, of luxury, and of influence. South of this zone are Egypt and Arabia and India, and other nations that have lived in splendor. But the peoples that have given direction to the thought of mankind, that have created the philosophy for the race, that have given jurisprudence and history and oratory, and poetry and art and science, and government, to mankind, have been crowded, as it were, within this zone of supremacy, within this magical belt of national prosperity. Examine your globe, and there is Greece, that gave letters to the world; Rome, that gave jurisprudence to mankind; Palestine, that gave religion to our race. And to-day there is Germany, that gave a Luther to the church and a Gutenberg to science, and there is England swaying her mighty sceptre over land and sea. Our location is in this wake of power--within this magical zone. Surely there must be a destiny foretold by this great fact, and it is but wise for us as intelligent freemen on this national day to consider the significance of the prophecy. Our national home is not amid the polar snows of Northern Russia nor the burning sands of Central Africa, but sweeping over the lovely regions of the temperate zone, it lies too far south to be bound in perpetual chains of frost, and too far north to sink under the enervating influences of a tropical sun. Although on the side of the equator destined to be the great receptacle of human life, yet it is too far from the belligerent powers of the old world to fall a victim to their corruption or to the weight of their combined forces. With a shore line equalling the circuit of the globe, and with a river navigation duplicating that vast measurement, our national domain is only one-sixth less than that of the sixty states--republics, kingdoms, and empires--of Europe. Indeed, it is equal to old Rome's vast domain, which extended from the river Euphrates to the Western ocean and from the walls of Antoninus to the Mountains of the Moon. Our location is for a purpose. For if you and I believe in the mission of individuals who accomplish the purposes of Providence, we must believe in the mission of nations for the elevation of mankind to a better future. And, my countrymen, it is equally significant that we stand above all nations in our origin. We started where other nations left off. Unrivalled for luxury and oriental splendor, the Assyrians sprung from a band of hunters. Grand in her pyramids, and obelisks, and sphinxes, Egypt rose from that race despised by mankind. Great in her jurisprudence, giving law to the world, the Romans came from a band of freebooters on the seven hills that have been made immortal by martial genius; and that very nation, whose poets we copy, whose orators we seek to imitate, whose artistic genius is the pride of the race, came from barbarians, cannibals; and that proud nation beyond the sea, that sways her sceptre over land and ocean, sprang from painted barbarians--for such were the aborigines of proud Albion's Isle when Cæsar invaded those shores. Our forefathers stood upon the very summit of humanity. Recall our constitutional convention. Perhaps no such convention had ever assembled in the halls of a nation. That convention, composed of fifty-five men, and such men! They were giants in intellect, in moral character; all occupying a high social position; twenty-nine were university men, and those that were not collegiates were men of imperial intellects and of commanding common sense. In such a gathering were Franklin, the venerable philosopher; Washington, who is ever to be revered as patriot and philanthropist; and Madison, and Hamilton, two of the most profound thinkers of that or of any other age. It is one of those marvels that we should recall of which we have a right to be proud; but in our pride we should not fail to ascertain why the Almighty should start us as a nation at the very acme of humanity--redeemed, educated, and made grand by the influences of a divine Christianity. Those men were not mere colonists, nor were they limited in their patriotism. "No pent-up Utica" could confine their patriotism, for those men grasped the fundamental principle of human rights. Nay, they declared the ultimate truth of humanity, leaving nothing to added since, though a century has passed. Great modifications have come to the governments of Europe. Some changes have taken place in our national life. Yet I appeal to your intelligent memory, to your calm judgments, if anything has been added to our declaration of rights, those declarations founded upon the constitution of nature. These men voiced the brotherhood of the race. All other declarations prior to this were but for dynasties, or were ethnic at most. But those men swept the horizon of humanity. These men called forth, as it were, the oncoming centuries of time, and in their presence declared that all men are created free and equal. They not only declared the ultimate truth of human rights, but they exhausted the right of revolution. They created a constitution founded upon the will of the people, based upon our great declaration of rights, embracing man's inalienable right to life, liberty, and happiness. The instrument which their genius created was left amendable by the oncoming wants of time, modified in subordinate relations which might be suggested by emergencies and the unfolding of our race. Here then are the great fingers of prophecy pointing to our future. And we have been equally favored in our population, whether we take the Puritans who landed in New England, the Dutch who landed in New York, or the English who crowded Maryland and Virginia. They were first-class families. Especially do we trace back with pride that glorious genius for liberty, for intelligence, for devotion manifested by those heroic men and women who, amid the desolations of a terrific winter landed on a barren rock to transform a vast wilderness, through which the wild man roamed, into a garden wherein should grow the flowers and the fruits of freedom. We sometimes deprecate the cosmopolitan character of our population. It is a fact, however, that the best blood of the old world came to us until within ten years--not the decrepit, not the maimed, not the aged; for over fifty per cent. of those who came were between fifteen and thirty, and have grown up to be honorable citizens in the composition of our constitutional society. They came not as paupers. Many of them came, each bringing seventy dollars, some $180 dollars, and in the aggregate they brought millions of dollars. There has been, however, a change, a manifest change, in the character of those from foreign shores within the last decade. The time was when we welcomed everybody that might immigrate to this country; when we threw our gates wide open; when in our Fourth of July orations, we proclaimed this to be the asylum of the oppressed, the home of the down-trodden. But in the process of time this great opportunity afforded the nations of the old world came to be abused, and to-day is the largest source of our national danger. We are now bound to call a halt all along the line of immigration; to say to those peoples of the old world that this is not a new Africa, nor a new Ireland, nor a new Germany, nor a new Italy, nor a new England, nor a new Russia; that this is not a brothel for the Mormon, a fetich for the negro, a country for the ticket-of-leave-men; not a place for the criminals and paupers of Europe; but this country is for man--man in his intelligence, man in his morality, man in his love of liberty, man, whosoever he is, whencesoever he cometh. [Cries of amen, followed by applause.] The time has come for us to call a halt all along the line, and if we do not close the gates we should place them ajar. We should do two things: First, declare that this country is for Americans. [Applause.] It is not for Germans, nor for Irishmen, nor for Englishmen, nor for Spaniards, nor for the Chinese, nor for the Japanese, but it is for Americans. [Cries of amen and applause.] I am not to-day reviving the Know-Nothing cry, for I am glad to say that I am not a know-nothing in any sense. [Laughter.] Nor am I reviving what may be called the old Native American cry, for we have outlived that. But I am simply declaring that America is for Typical Americans. In other words, that we are determined by all that is honorable in law, by all that is energetic in religion, by all that is dear to our altars and our firesides, that this country shall not become un-American. Let us to-day proclaim to the world that he is an American, whether native-born or foreign-born, who accepts seven great ideas which shall differentiate him from all other peoples on the face of the globe. I am bound to say, and you will agree with me, that in proportion there are as many intelligent foreigners (that is, foreign-born) in this congregation, in our city and in our country, who are in full accord with this utterance as there are of those to the manor born. In other words could I call the roll, I would find as many intelligent foreigners who came here, not for selfishness, but for liberty and for America's sake, who would be in accord with me in declaring that America is for the Typical American. [Applause.] I speak without prejudice; I know that there are those here of foreign birth who are ornaments in every department of society. They minister to the sick as learned physicians. They plead in all our courts of justice. They are the eloquent exponents of divine truth. They are in our halls of legislation. They beautify private life in all the immunities and refinements thereof. They have added to the wealth of the nation. But while I make this concession, and I do it cheerfully and proudly, yet I must affirm that there are three classes of Americans: the native-born, the foreign-born and the typical American. The native American has the advantage of birth, out of which flows one supreme advantage--he may be the President of the United States. This is a wise provision, as nativity is a primary source of patriotism, and time is necessary to appreciation. But the native may be a worthless citizen. He should be the typical American, but he has too often failed to be. The Tweeds, the Wards, their like, are no honor whatever to the native stock. Some of the worst scoundrels who have scandalized our nation have been born to the soil. Then there is the foreign-born American, who is such by naturalization. He may be worthy of our free institutions, as many are; he may be unworthy, as many have proved themselves to be. But, rising above these, is the typical American, without regard to place of birth. He is the possessor of the seven great attributes, which, in my humble judgment, constitute the true American: I. That our civil and political rights are not grants from superiors to inferiors, but flow out of the order and constitution of nature. II. That the force to maintain these rights is not physical, but moral. III. That the safeguard of such rights is individual culture and responsibility. IV. That secular education is provided by the State, and is forever free from sectarian control. V. That there is no alliance of State and Church; the Government non-religious, but not irreligious. VI. That the Sabbath is a day of rest from ordinary care and toil. VII. That Christianity, in its ethics and charities, is the religion of this land. It was a bold venture for the fathers of this Republic to declare personal liberty foremost, without regard to birth or education or civilization. This has elevated our nation above all nations. It was sublime courage for those grand men to declare that our civil and political rights are not grants from superiors to inferiors, but that they flow out of the order and the constitution of nature. It is this, my countrymen, that differentiates us, that distinguishes us from Englishmen, and Frenchmen, and Russians. What are the two great declarations of which England is proud? Take the _Magna Charta Libertatum_. The historians say that this is the bulwark of English freedom. Yes, Englishmen, you do right to so esteem it. But then you should remember that the _Magna Charta Libertatum_ was a concession from King John--a concession from a superior to inferiors, and the men who wrung that concession from that English king did not esteem themselves his equals, but permitted themselves to be treated as inferiors. Then take what is known in English parliamentary history as A Petition of Rights. It secured a concession from King Charles I--a superior to inferiors. But our fathers said we are the superiors. [Applause.] We recognize no superior but God; we declare a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. [Applause.] We ask not for a _Magna Charta Libertatum_. We offer no petition of rights. Jefferson made our declaration of rights and the fathers signed it, saying, We are born free and equal, created in the image of God; our political rights are inalienable, inseparable from our birth. [Applause.] That declaration turned the corner of political history. It astounded all Europe. It sent a chill through royal blood. It caused a paleness to come over kings and queens; yet it was a declaration which oncoming generations approved, and oncoming centuries will applaud, because born of truth, justice and liberty. The naturalized American must renounce all allegiance to foreign prince or potentate or government; in so doing he must reject the assumed superiority of any human grantor and assert the superiority of the individual citizen in whom inhere these rights. [Applause.] The fathers ventured the assertion that a government of the people and by the people and for the people should be supported, not by physical force, but by a moral power, an astounding fact in the national history. The power that conquered in the war for independence was a moral force. It was the _spirit_ of '76. It was the spirit of '76 that inspired Warren to say: "Put me where the battle is hottest." It was the spirit of '76 that moved Putnam to shout out on the eve of battle: "Powder! powder! Ye gods, give us powder!" It was the spirit of '76 that caused the New Jersey dominie, when the army was destitute of wadding, to rush to the church and, getting a copy of Watts's psalms, shout out: "There, boys, put Watts into them." It was the spirit of '76 that led Washington to consecrate himself, his time, his wealth, and the grandest men in the country to consecrate themselves for the accomplishment of the grandest of facts. The Continental Army was an army of plowmen and artisans, poorly armed and poorly clothed. Baron Steuben, when he came to this country with Lafayette to organize our army, declared that the only regularity that he saw was, that the short men were put in front and the tall men put behind, and old Putnam gave him this explanation, that Americans didn't care about their heads; they only cared about their legs; shelter their legs and they would fight forever. Baron Steuben attempted to organize those troops, but lost his temper and swore at them in three languages at the same time. [Laughter.] But the spirit of '76 led to history. We maintain our free institutions by moral force. Our twenty thousand soldiers scattered here and there wherever they can find an Indian to shoot is hardly a respectable police force. [Laughter.] The founders of this Republic knew that freemen are soldiers in the disguise of citizens. Let the tocsin of war be founded; let a foreign foe invade our shores; let an insurrectionary body arise in our midst, and a million of freemen, armed to the teeth, will "Rally round the flag, boys, rally once again." [Vociferous applause.] It is difficult for immigrants coming to this country to appreciate this fact. They pass through the land and see no gens d'armes, no standing armies, and rarely a policeman. [Laughter.] The true American stands forever on duty, a soldier of the Republic in the disguise of a citizen, the custodian of the Republic's life. Out of such a citizenship comes the moral sentiment which in its aggregation is public opinion, which is mightier than standing armies or floating navies. [Applause.] A third attribute is the individuality of the citizen, out of which comes the collective man, our national life. We have exalted the individual; the American citizen is a republic of one. Whether we have fifty millions, or ten millions, or a million, whatever may be the ratio of our population, the Government recognizes the individuality of the citizen as paramount. As God is the center of the universe, and Christ the center of the church, so the citizen is the center of this Government. All its laws, all its administrations, all its soldiers in the army, all its guns in the navy, are for the protection of the American citizen. Wherever he wanders, whether in Africa, or Europe, or Asia, or Germany, or Ireland, or Cuba, or Mexico, the American citizen must and shall be protected. [Applause.] It is difficult for men coming from Europe, where men are contemplated in masses, to realize the potency of individuality; but it underlies our free institutions. Fourthly, he is an American, whether native-born or foreign-born, who accepts the bold venture of the fathers to segregate public education from the teachings of the church. It was a bold move in political science. There is no authority under the Constitution of the United States, there should be no authority in the constitution of any State, there should be no authority in the municipality of any part of the country, to impose religious instruction upon the childhood of America. You and I may tremble in the presence of this tremendous fact, this daring project in the science of statecraft, but then you must remember that, according to the organic law of our country, we know no class but citizens, we know no obligation but protection, no duty but the welfare of the people. In all the nations abroad there is the combination of secular and religious instruction. Arithmetic, geometry, geography, physiology, must be taught under the sanctions of religion. But in this country public education is separated from sectarian religious teaching. We may pause in the presence of such a fact. We know that intelligence is almost a boundless power. Intelligence has produced as much evil as it has good; the greatest monsters who have damned humanity have been men of the highest possible culture, and the men who are sowing the seed in this country of discord are men of sublime intellects and polished education. And therefore the founders of the Republic recognized the duty of the individual citizen to add home instruction, instruction in the church, instruction in the Sunday-school, to sanctify this intelligence. Whenever they expounded constitutional law, or spoke in behalf of the perpetuity of our institutions, they never failed to give pre-eminence to private virtue and public morality; nor did they hesitate to say that this virtue in private life and this morality in the public society must flow out of that religion which we esteem divine. Those great men ventured on another and a desperate mission, the segregation of State from Church. In the nations of the old world these are allied. The Czar is the head of the church. Victoria is the head of the church. The King of Germany is the head of the church. The Hapsburg, of Austria, is the head of the church. The Sultan is the head of the church. But here we have no earthly head of the church. To the individual Christian Christ is the head of the church. This is fundamental in our Government. Here we have "a free church in a free country." Christianity had been supported by thrones in the old world. Religion had been enforced by armies and navies. The great cathedrals, and what are called the church livings, had been maintained by a tax imposed upon people who did not believe the creed taught, and did not observe the forms of worship practiced. In our organic law it is stated that Congress shall not legislate on the subject of religion. Religion shall be free. Here the Mohammedan may rear his mosque and read his Koran. Here the Brahmin may rear his pagoda and read his Shasta. All religionists may come and worship here, but their worship shall not infringe upon the worship of others nor work injury to the body-politic. The Typical American should set his face against all seeming alliance of Church and State. We say to the Holy Father, live in peace. Stay in Rome. Live on the banks of the Tiber. If you come here, you must be an American citizen, rejecting your doctrine of temporal power. You may come and be naturalized and be a voter, but we can have no temporal _popes_ here. [Applause and laughter.] So we say to our countrymen that come from dear old Ireland, the best country in the world to emigrate from, [laughter], to the Italian, to the Spaniard, to the German, you may belong to the church of the spiritual pontiff but you must renounce all allegiance to temporal pontiffs. I hold that under our laws of naturalization, that it is the duty of every cardinal, every archbishop, every bishop, and every priest, every monk, Franciscan or Jesuit, to solemnly renounce before God and the holy angels, all political allegiance to the Pope as a temporal prince, who to-day is seeking to re-establish diplomatic relations with England and other European nations in recognition of his temporal sovereignty. And he is a true American citizen, whether foreign-born or native-born, who maintains, as an American institution, the Holy Sabbath-day. He can call it Sunday, after the old pagan god, but he must rest on the seventh day, rest from toil, rest in the interest of the dignity of labor, rest as discount upon capital, rest for intelligence, rest for compensation, rest for domestic happiness, rest for pious culture. The seventh day of every week should be consecrated to cessation from labor and devoted to physical and mental repose. It should not be a day of recreation to be spent in riotous living and in brawls, but a day peaceful, in harmony with the institutions of religion and the dominant sentiment of the country. Our fathers consecrated the Sabbath, and had you the patience to hear and I, the time to read from Franklin, from Jefferson, from Washington, touching the Sabbath, in recognition of it as indispensable to the welfare of our body politic, you would be confirmed in this great truth. The danger to-day is that we are becoming un-American in cutting loose from the Sabbath-day as a day of rest and of worship. I cannot invoke the civil law to do more than to say that it shall be a day of rest. I cannot invoke the civil law to say that that man shall worship here or worship there, or worship at all, but I can invoke the civil law to say that it shall be a non-secular day; not a day for the transaction of business, but a day on which the laboring man shall walk out under God's free skies and say: This is my day, the day of a freeman. [Applause.] The tendency is to transplant a European Sabbath here; the German with his lager, and the Frenchman with his wine, and the Irishman with his shillalah. [Laughter.] No, no, gentlemen, stay on the other side of the great deep. We don't want these things or this day on this side of the broad Atlantic. There is another attribute that belongs to the true American citizen--the recognition of Christianity as the religion of our country. Webster, our greatest expounder of constitutional law, did not hesitate to declare that Christianity--not Methodist Christianity, not Roman Catholic Christianity, not Presbyterian Christianity--but Christianity as taught by the four Evangelists, is the recognized religion of this land. Recognized how far? So far that its ethics shall be embodied in our constitutional and statutory law; so far that its teachings of the brotherhood of mankind shall be accepted; so far that its lessons of fraternity, equality, justice; and mercy shall be incorporated in the law of society. Those beautiful moralities that fell from the lips of the divine Son of God have been incorporated in the laws of the land, and that with few exceptions. Our chaplains for the army and navy and for Congress are in recognition of this. On that sacred book the oath of Presidential responsibility is taken. And this Thanksgiving Day, appointed by the President, is a monument of proof. These point to Christianity as the dominant religion of the land, not to the exclusion of the Jew, not to the exclusion of the Greek, not to the exclusion of the Mohammedan, not to the exclusion of the Brahmin, but permeating society with its principles. Then, citizens, the danger which comes from this foreign population is to be met in this way, first, to hold that this country is for Americans who are clothed with these seven attributes. I do not exaggerate the danger when I remind you that there are great movements among the peoples of the earth, as never before. Remember that the population of Europe has increased twenty-seven millions from 1870 to 1880, and at this rate of increase Europe can send to us two millions of immigrants a year for the next hundred years. Our foreign-born population is said to be seven millions, and their children of the first generation would make fifteen millions. In 1882 immigration reached the enormous figure of eight hundred thousand, and at the present rate of immigration it is said there will be in the year 1900, fourteen years from now, nineteen millions of persons of foreign birth, and with their children of the first generation there will be forty-three millions in this land of foreign born. Now the question, and a serious one, is, Who are those that come? I have said some are noble, some are true, some are easily transformed into the Typical American. But then we are to remember that most of the foreigners who come here are twelve times as much disposed to crime as are the native stock. Our population of foreign extraction is sadly conspicuous in our criminal records. This element constituted, in 1870, 20 per cent. of the population of New England, and furnished 75 per cent. of the crime. The Howard Society of London reports that 74 per cent. of the Irish discharged convicts have come to the United States. I hold in my hand the annual rum bill of this country for the last year. It is nine hundred millions of dollars! I ask myself, Who drinks this rum? Native Americans? Some! [Laughter.] Some drink a good deal. [Renewed laughter.] But let us see the danger that comes to us from inebriety among our foreign population. The wholesale dealers in liquor are estimated at sixty-five per cent. foreign born, and the brewers seventy-five per cent. Let us take Philadelphia, that old Quaker city, the City of Brotherly Love, that city that seems to be par excellence the city of the world, and here are the figures: There were 8,034 persons in the rum traffic, and who were they? Chinamen, 2; Jews, 2; Italians, 18; Spaniards, 140; Welsh, 160; French, 285; Scotch, 497; English, 568; Germans, 2,179; Irish, 3,041; Africans, 265; American, 205. I suppose we will have to mix the Africans with the Americans, and the total would be 470 Americans, and then there were persons of unknown nationality in the rum traffic, 672; the sum total being 8,034. Of this number 3,696 were females, but out of the 3,696 all were foreigners but one. There was one American woman in the rum business, and I blush for my country. Yet there were 1,104 German women, and 2,548 Irish, and of the whole number of the 8,034 engaged in the liquor traffic of that city, 6,418 had been arrested for some crime. [Applause.] We are bound to look at these facts. Are we a nation of foreign drunkards? Then there is another danger--the tendency of emigrant colonization. I suppose it is known to you that New Mexico is in the hands of foreigners--in the hands of the Catholic Church. It is also a fact of Congressional report that 20,557,000 acres of land are in the possession of twenty-nine alien corporations and individuals, an area greater than the whole of Ireland. I would have no part of this country subject to any church. I would have no foreign language taught in the public schools to the exclusion of or in preference to the English language. I would have no laws published in a foreign language, whether for the French of Louisiana or the Germans of Cincinnati. [Loud applause.] I would utter my solemn protest, and that in the hearing of all politicians, especially those men who want to be Presidents and can not be Presidents, and those who hope to be ere long--I would utter my solemn protest to-day against what is known as the "Irish vote" and the "German vote." [Applause.] We do not want any "foreign vote." Down with the politician that would seek an "Irish vote" or "German vote." [Great applause.] All we want here is an American vote. I would not vote for any man for President who would stoop so low as to bid for the German vote or the Irish vote. [Continued applause.] The other safeguard is an extension of the term of residence required for naturalization. Some say make the term twenty-one years. What is the term now? Five years. I read from "Revised Statutes," section 2165 and 2174, that a person applying for citizenship must be a resident of the United States at least five years, and one year within the State or Territory wherein the application is made, and that during that term (I wish I had all the judges here to-day) and that during that term he is to give satisfactory assurance to the court that he has behaved as a man of good moral character, attached to the principles of the Constitution of the United States, and well disposed to the good order and happiness of the same. "A man of good moral character!" what a sublime utterance, and how infinite. I would be glad to know what judge takes the pains, when a hundred of these foreigners apply just on the eve of the election, that they may qualify themselves to vote, what judge inquires whether they are men of good moral character? Yet such is the provision of the law of the land. We have assumed the authority to limit suffrage. We say that women shall not vote, which is a great mistake. [Sensation.] You are not up to that. [Laughter.] My wife is as competent to vote as I. On all moral questions, especially the temperance question, I would trust the women ten times before I would the men. It is an abuse of the very genius of our Government to proscribe the Chinese. We say the negro may vote because his skin is black. We say the Dutchman, the Irishman, the Italian may vote, because his skin ought to be white, but the Chinese can not vote because his skin is yellow. The word "white" is used in the statute of limitation. We say to the young American who graduates with the highest honors at eighteen, you must wait three years longer before you can stand with the Irishman with his brogans and the Teuton with his lager and vote for the rulers of your native land. I would have the term of naturalization extended, some say till the foreigner has been here twenty-one years. Extend the term to ten years, fifteen years. Say to all persons who come to this country from foreign lands, that after 1890 they shall remain here fifteen years to become indoctrinated in our free institutions, learn the seven attributes of the American citizen, and then be prepared to love America for America's sake. [Applause.] Thus protected we can look forward to a glorious future, and the eye of prophecy can sweep the horizon of a deathless hope. Look forward to the time when our place among the nations shall be the umpire of the world. When England and Germany and France shall refer their international questions to us for adjudication which otherwise would be adjusted on the field of carnage; when we shall dictate to the world by moral suasion, what shall be the rights of citizens and what shall be the duty of the Government over them. The proud position of my country looms up before me. England may plant commercial colonies around the globe, and so may Germany and so may France, but let it be the mission of this country to plant colonies of moral ideas wherever the sun shines, and transform the political sentiments of the world until all men shall be recognized as created free and equal by the Father Almighty. Let this be our proud position. Then it shall never be said that the ocean was dug for America's grave, that the winds were woven for her winding sheet, that the mountains were reared for her tombstone. But rather we shall live on, and gifted with immortal youth, America shall ascend the mountain tops of the oncoming centuries with the old flag in her hand, symbol of universal liberty, the light of whose stars shall blend their radiance with the dawn of the millennium. EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS. "Your sermon yesterday upon the essential features of Americanism deserves the applause of the nation. God speed you in your noble mission." WASHINGTON, D. C. "Your sermon to-day was a masterpiece. God bless you." WASHINGTON, D. C. "I thank you from the bottom of my American heart for your sermon on 'America for Americans.'" WASHINGTON, D. C. "Your sermon exactly describes my sentiments, which you have put in a cleaner and plainer light than I can." MARYLAND. "Let me congratulate you with all my heart on your immigration sermon yesterday." WISCONSIN. "I have read the report of your sermon, and had I been present would have risen to my feet in an 'Amen' applause." OHIO. "I have read your sermon, and thank God that one man has the manhood to speak his mind on a subject which must soon come to the forefront for investigation." ST. LOUIS. "You struck the people's heart on Thanksgiving Day, and put a needed truth just right." NEW YORK. 
26097	----	_Submission to Divine Providence in the Death of Children, recommended and inforced,_ IN A SERMON PREACHED at _NORTHAMPTON_, On the DEATH Of a very amiable and hopeful CHILD, about Five Years old. _Published out of Compassion to mourning_ PARENTS. By _P. DODDRIDGE_, D. D. _Neve Liturarum pudeat; qui viderit illas,_ _De Lachrymis factas sentiat esse meis._ OVID. The SECOND EDITION. _LONDON_, Printed for R. HETT, at the _Bible_ and _Crown_ in the _Poultry_. MDCCXL. THE PREFACE. _THE Discourse which I now offer to the Publick was drawn up on a very sorrowful Occasion; the Death of a most desirable Child, who was formed in such a Correspondence to my own Relish and Temper, as to be able to give me a Degree of Delight, and consequently of Distress, which I did not before think it possible I could have received from a little Creature who had not quite compleated her Fifth Year._ _Since the Sermon was preached, it has pleased_ GOD _to make the like Breaches on the Families of several of my Friends; and, with Regard to some of them, the Affliction hath been attended with Circumstances of yet sorer Aggravation. Tho' several of them are removed to a considerable Distance from me, and from each other I have born their Afflictions upon my Heart with cordial Sympathy; and it is with a particular Desire of serving them, that I have undertaken the sad Task of reviewing and transcribing these Papers; which may almost be called the Minutes of my own Sighs and Tears, over the poor Remains of my eldest and (of this Kind) dearest Hope, when they were not as yet_ buried out of my Sight. _They are, indeed, full of Affection, and to be sure some may think they are too full of it: But let them consider the Subject, and the Circumstances, and surely they will pardon it. I apprehend, I could not have treated such a Subject coldly, had I writ upon it many years ago, when I was untaught in the School of Affliction, and knew nothing of such a Calamity as this, but by Speculation or Report: How much less could I do it, when_ GOD _had touched me in so tender a Part, and (to allude to a celebrated ancient Story,) called me out to appear on a publick Stage, as with an Urn in my Hand, which contained the Ashes of my own Child!_ _In such a sad Situation Parents, at least, will forgive the Tears of a Parent, and those Meltings of Soul which overflow in the following Pages. I have not attempted to run thro' the Common place of_ immoderate Grief, _but have only selected a few obvious Thoughts which I found peculiarly suitable to myself; and, I bless_ GOD, _I can truly say, they gave me a solid and substantial Relief, under a Shock of Sorrow, which would otherwise have broken my Spirits._ _On my own Experience, therefore, I would recommend them to others, in the like Condition, And let me intreat my Friends and Fellow-Sufferers to remember, that it is not a low Degree of Submission to the Divine Will, which is called for in the ensuing Discourse. It is comparatively an easy Thing to behave with external Decency, to refrain from bold Censures and outragious Complaints, or to speak in the outward Language of Resignation. But it is not, so easy to get rid of every repining Thought, and to forbear taking it, in some Degree at least, unkindly, that the_ GOD _whom we love and serve, in whose Friendship we have long trusted and rejoiced, should act what, to Sense, seems so unfriendly a Part: That he should take away a Child; and if a Child,_ that Child; _and if that Child, at that Age; and if at that Age, with this or that particular Circumstance, which seems the very Contrivance of Providence to add double Anguish to the Wound; and all this, when he could so easily have recalled it; when we know him to have done it for so many others; when we so earnestly desired it; when we sought it with such Importunity, and yet, as we imagine, with so much Submission too:--That, notwithstanding all this; he should tear it away with an inexorable Hand, and leave us, it may be for a while, under the Load, without any extraordinary Comforts and Supports, to balance so grievous a Tryal.--In these Circumstances, not only to justify, but to glorify_ GOD _in all,--chearfully to subscribe to his Will,--cordially to approve it as merciful and gracious,--so as to be able to say, as the pious and excellent Archbishop of _Cambray_ did, when his Royal Pupil, and the Hopes of a Nation were taken away_[+], "_If there needed no more than to move a Straw to bring him to Life again, I would not do it, since the Divine Pleasure is otherwise".--This, this is a difficult Lesson indeed; a Triumph of Christian Faith and Love, which I fear many of us are yet to learn._ _But let us follow after it, and watch against the first Rising of a contrary Temper, as most injurious to_ GOD, _and prejudicial to ourselves. To preserve us against it, let us review the Considerations now to be proposed, as what we are to digest into our Hearts, and work into our Thoughts and our Passions. And I would hope, that if we do in good earnest make the Attempt, we shall find this Discourse a cooling and sweetening Medicine, which may allay that inward Heat and Sharpness, with which, in a Case like ours, the Heart is often inflamed and corroded. I commend it, such as it is, to the Blessing of the great Physician, and could wish the Reader to make up its many Deficiencies, by Mr._ Flavel's Token for Mourners, _and Dr._ Grosvenor's Mourner; _to which, if it suit his Relish, he may please to add Sir_ William Temple's Essay on the Excess of Grief: _Three Tracts which, in their very different Strains and Styles, I cannot but look upon as in the Number of the best which our Language, or, perhaps, any other, has produced upon this Subject._ _As for this little Piece of mine, I question not, but, like the Generality of single Sermons, it will soon be worn out and forgot. But in the mean time, I would humbly hope, that some tender Parent, whom Providence has joined with me in sad Similitude of Grief, may find some Consolation from it, while sitting by the Coffin of a beloved Child, or mourning over its Grave. And I particularly hope it, with Regard to those dear and valuable Friends, whose Sorrows, on the like Occasion, have lately been added to my own. I desire that, tho' they be not expressly named, they would please to consider this Sermon as most affectionately and respectfully_ dedicated to them; _and would, in Return, give me a Share in their Prayers, that all the Vicissitudes of Life may concur to quicken me in the Duties of it, and to ripen me for that blessed World, where I hope many of those dear Delights, which are now withering around us, will spring up in fairer and more durable Forms._ Amen. Northampton, _Jan._ 31, 1736-7. POSTSCRIPT. _I could easily shew, with how much Propriety I have called the dear Deceased_ an amiable and hopeful Child, _by a great many little Stories, which Parents would perhaps read with Pleasure, and Children might hear with some Improvement: Yet as I cannot be sure that no others may happen to read the Discourse, I dare not trust my Pen and my Heart, on so delicate a Subject. One Circumstance I will however venture to mention, (as I see here is a Blank Page left,) which may indeed be consider'd as a Specimen of many others. As she was a great Darling with most of our Friends that knew her, she often received Invitations to different Places at the same Time; and when I once asked her, on such an Occasion, what made every Body love her so well; she answer'd me, (with that Simplicity and Spirit, which alas! Charm'd me too much,_) Indeed, Pappa, I cannot think, unless it be because I love every Body. _A Sentiment obvious to the Understanding of a Child, yet not unworthy the Reflection of the wisest Man_[*]. 2 KINGS IV. 25, 26. _And it came to pass when the Man of GOD saw her afar off, that he said to Gehazi his Servant, Behold, yonder is that Shunamite: Run now, I pray thee, to meet her, and say unto her, Is it well with thee? Is it well with thine Husband? Is it well with the Child? And she answered,_ It is well. WHEN the Apostle would encourage our Hope and Trust in the Tenderness of Christ as the great High Priest and convince us that he is capable of being touched with a sympathetick Sense of our Infirmities, he argues at large from this Consideration, that Jesus _was in all Points tempted like us;_ so that as _he himself has suffer'd, being tempted, he knows how_ more compassionately _to succour_ those that are under the like Trials[a]. Now this must surely intimate, that it is not in human Nature, even in its most perfect State, so tenderly to commiserate any Sorrows, as those which our own Hearts have felt: As we cannot form a perfect Idea of any bitter Kind of Draught, by the most exact Description, till we have ourselves tasted it. It is probably for this Reason, amongst others, that GOD frequently exercises such, as have the Honour to be inferior Shepherds in the Flock of Christ, with a long Train of various Afflictions, _that we may be able to comfort them who are in_ the like _Trouble, with those Consolations with which we have ourselves been comforted of GOD_[b]. And, if we have the Temper which becomes our Office, it will greatly reconcile us to our Trials, to consider, that from our weeping Eyes, and our bleeding Hearts, a Balm may be extracted to heal the Sorrows of others, and a Cordial to revive their fainting Spirits. May we never be left to sink under our Burden, in such a manner, that there should be room, after all that we have boasted of the Strength of religious Supports, to apply to us the Words of _Eliphaz_ to _Job_[c], _Thou hast strengthen'd the weak Hands, and upheld him that was ready to fall; but now it is come upon thee, and thou faintest; it touches thee, and thou art troubled!_ May we never behave, as if _the Consolations of GOD_ were _small_[d]; lest it should be _as when a Standard-Bearer fainteth_[e], and whole Companies of Soldiers are thrown into Confusion and Distress! MY Friends, you are Witnesses for me, that I have not stood by as an unconcerned Spectator amidst the Desolations of your respective Families, when GOD's awful Hand hath been lopping off those tender Branches from them, which were once our common Hope and Delight. I have often put my Soul in the stead of yours, and endeavour'd to give such a Turn to my publick as well as my private Discourses, as might be a means of composing and chearing your Minds, and forming you to a submissive Temper, that you might _be subject to the Father of Spirits, and live_[f]. In this View I have, at different Times, largely insisted on the Example of _Aaron, who held his peace_[g], when his two eldest Sons were struck dead in a Moment by Fire from the Lord, which destroyed them in the very Act of their Sin; and I have also represented that of _Job,_ who, when the Death of ten Children by one Blow was added to the Spoil of his great Possessions, could say, _The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the Name of the Lord_[h]. The Instance which is here before us, is not indeed so memorable as these; but to present Circumstances it is, in many Respects, more suitable: And it may the rather deserve our Notice, as it shews us the Wisdom, Composure, and Piety of one of the weaker and tenderer Sex, on an Occasion of such aggravated Distress, that had _Aaron_ or _Job_ behaved just as she did, we must have acknowledged, that they had not sunk beneath the Dignity of their Character, nor appear'd unworthy of our Applause, and our Imitation. INDEED there may be some Reason to imagine, that it was with Design to humble those who are in distinguish'd Stations of Life, and who have peculiar Advantages and Obligations to excel in Religion, that GOD has shewn us in Scripture, as well as in common Life, some bright Examples of Piety, where they could hardly have been expected in so great a Degree; and hath, as it were, _perfected Praise out of the Mouths of Babes and Sucklings_[i]. Thus when _Zacharias_[k], an aged Priest, doubted the Veracity of the Angel which appeared to assure him of the Birth of his Child, which was to be produced in an ordinary Way; _Mary,_ an obscure young Virgin, could believe a far more unexampled Event, and said, with humble Faith and thankful Consent, _Behold the Hand-maid of the Lord, be it unto me according to thy Word_[l]. _Jonah_ the Prophet, tho' favour'd with such immediate Revelations, and so lately delivered, in a miraculous Way, from the very _Belly of Hell_[m], was thrown into a most indecent Transport of Passion, on the withering of a Gourd; so that he presumed to tell the Almighty to his Face, that _he did well to be angry even unto Death_[n]: Whereas this pious Woman preserves the Calmness and Serenity of her Temper, when she had lost a Child, a Son, an only Child, who had been given beyond all natural Hope, and therefore to be sure was so much the dearer, and the Expectation from him so much the higher. Yet are these Expectations dash'd almost in a Moment; and this, when he was grown up to an Age when Children are peculiarly entertaining; for he was old enough to be with his Father in the Field, where no doubt he was diverting him with his fond Prattle; yet he was not too big to be laid _on his Mother's Knees_[o], when he came home complaining of his Head; so that he was probably about five or six Years old. This amiable Child was well in the Morning, and dead by Noon; a pale Corpse in his Mother's Arms! and he now _lay dead in the House_; and yet they had the Faith, and the Goodness to say, "_It is well._" THIS good Woman had found the Prophet _Elisha_ grateful for all the Favours he had received at her House; where she had from time to time accommodated him in his Journies, and thought it an Honour rather than an Incumbrance. She had experienced the Power of his Prayers, in answer to which the Child had been given; and 'tis extremely probable, that she also recollected the Miracle which _Elijah_ had wrought a few Years before, tho' till that Time the like had not been known in _Israel_, or on Earth; I mean, in raising from the Dead the Child of that Widow of _Sarepta_[p], who had nourished him during the Famine. She might therefore think it a possible Case, that the Miracle might be renewed; at least, she knew not how to comfort herself better, than by going to so good a Friend, and asking his Counsels and his Prayers, to enable her to bear her Affliction, if it must not be removed[*]. ACCORDINGLY she hasted to him; and he, on the other side, discovered the Temper of a real Friend, in the Message with which he sent _Gehazi_ his Servant to meet her, _while she was yet afar off._ The Moment she appeared, the Concerns of her whole Family seem to have come into his kind Heart at once, and he particularly asks, _Is it well with thee? Is it well with thine Husband? Is it well with the Child?_ A beautiful Example of that affectionate Care for the Persons and Families of their Friends, which Christian Ministers (who, like the Prophets of old, are called _Men of GOD_[q]) should habitually bear about in their Hearts; which should be awakened by every Sight of them, and expressed on every proper Occasion. HER Answer was very remarkable: _She said, It is well._ Perhaps she meant this, to divert the more particular Enquiry of the Servant; as she had before made the same Answer to her Husband, when he had examined into the Reason of her intended Journey, as probably not knowing of the sad Breach which had been made: _She said, It is well_[r]; which was a civil way of intimating her Desire that he would not ask any more particular Questions. But I cannot see any Reason to restrain the Words to this Meaning alone: We have ground to believe, from the Piety she expressed in her first Regards to _Elisha,_ and the Opportunities which she had of improving in Religion by the frequent Converse of that holy Man, that when she used this Language, she intended thereby to express her Resignation to the Divine Will in what had lately pass'd: And this might be the Meaning of her Heart, (tho' one ignorant of the Particulars of her Case, might not fully understand it from such ambiguous Words; ) "_It is well_ on the whole. Though my Family be afflicted, we are afflicted in Faithfulness; tho' my dear Babe be dead, yet my Heavenly Father is just, and he is good in all. He knows how to bring Glory to himself, and Advantage to us, from this Stroke. Whether this Application do, or do not succeed, whether the Child be, or be not restored, _it is_ still _well_; _well_ with him, and _well_ with us; for we are in such wise and such gracious Hands, that I would not allow one murmuring Word, or one repining Thought." So that, on the whole, the Sentiment of this good _Shunamite_ was much the same with that of _Hezekiah_, when he answered to that dreadful Threatning which imported the Destruction of his Children, _Good is the Word of the Lord which he hath spoken_[s]; or that of _Job_, when he heard that all his Sons and his Daughters were crushed under the Ruins of their elder Brother's House, and yet (in the fore-cited Words) _blessed the Name of the Lord._ Now this is the Temper to which, by divine Assistance, we should all labour to bring our own Hearts, when GOD puts this bitter Cup into our Hands, and _takes away with a Stroke_ those dear Little-ones, which were the _Desire of our Eyes_[t], and the Joy of our Hearts. Let us not content ourselves, in such Circumstances, with _keeping the Door of our Lips_[u], that we break not out into any Indecencies of Complaint; let us not attempt to harden ourselves against our Sorrows by a stern Insensibility, or that sullen Resolution which sometimes says, _It is a Grief, and I must bear it_[w]; but let us labour, (for _a great Labour_ it will indeed be,) to compose and quiet our Souls, calmly to acquiesce in this painful Dispensation, nay, cordially to approve it as in present Circumstances every Way fit. IT will be the main Business of this Discourse, to prove how reasonable such a Temper is, or to shew how much Cause Christian Parents have to borrow the Language of the Text, when their Infant Offspring is taken away, and to say with the pious _Shunamite_, in the noblest Sense that her Words will bear,--_It is well._ AND here I would more particularly shew,--It is well in the general, because GOD does it:--It is surely well for the pious Parents in particular, because it is the Work of their Covenant GOD:--They may see many Respects in which it is evidently so, by observing what useful Lessons it has a Tendency to teach them:--And they have Reason to hope, it is well with those dear Creatures whom GOD hath removed in their early Days. THESE are surely convincing Reasons to the Understanding: Yet who can say, that they shalt be Reasons to the Heart? _Arise, O GOD, and plead thine own Cause_[x] in the most effectual Manner! May thy powerful and gracious Voice appease the swelling Billows of the Passions, and produce a great and delightful Calm in our Souls, in which we may yet enjoy thee and ourselves, tho' a Part of our Treasure be for the present swallowed up! I. THERE is surely Reason, in such a Case, to say _it is well_,--because GOD doth it. THIS pass'd for an unanswerable Reason with _David, I was dumb, I opened not my Mouth, because thou didst it_[y], and with good old _Eli,_ under a severer Tryal than ours, _It is the Lord, let him do as seemeth good in his Sight_[z]. And shall We object against the Force of it? Was it a Reason to _David_, and to _Eli_, and is it not equally so to us? Or have We any new Right to _reply against GOD_[a], which those eminent Saints had not? _His kingdom ruleth over all_[b]; and there is _not_ so much as _a Sparrow that falls to the Ground without our Father, but the very Hairs of our Head are all number'd_[c] by him. Can we then imagine that our dear Children fall into their Graves without his Notice or Interposition? Did that watchful Eye that _keepeth Israel_, now, for the first time, _slumber and sleep_[d], and an Enemy lay hold on that fatal Moment to bear away these precious Spoils, and bury our Joys and our Hopes in the Dust? Did some malignant Hand stop up the Avenues of Life, and break its Springs, so as to baffle all the Tenderness of the Parent, and all the Skill of the Physician? Whence does such a Thought come, and whither would it lead? Diseases and Accidents are but second Causes, which owe all their Operations to the continued Energy of the great original Cause. Therefore GOD says, _I will bereave them of Children_[e]; _I take away the Desire of thine Eyes with a Stroke_[f]_. He changeth their Countenance, and sendeth them away_[g]. _Thou Lord turnest Man to Destruction, and sayest, Return ye Children of Men_[h]. And what shall we say? Are not the Administrations of his Providence wise and good? Can we _teach him Knowledge_[i]? Can we tax him with Injustice? Shall the Most High GOD learn of us how to govern the World, and be instructed by our Wisdom when to remove his Creatures from one State of Being to another? Or do we imagine that his Administration, in the general Right and Good, varies when he comes to _touch our Bone and our Flesh_[k]_?_ Is that the secret Language of our Soul, "That _it is well_, others should drink of the Cup, but not We; that any Families but ours should be broken, and any Hearts but ours should be wounded?" Who might not claim the like Exemption? and what would become of the Divine Government in general; or where would be his obedient Homage from his Creatures, if each should begin to complain, as soon as it comes to his own Turn to suffer? Much fitter is it for us to conclude, that our own Afflictions may be as reasonable as those of others; that amidst all the _Clouds and Darkness_ of this present Dispensation, _Righteousness and Judgment are the Habitation of his Throne_[l]; and, in a word, that _it is well_, because GOD hath done it. It suits the general Scheme of the Divine Providence, and to an obedient submissive Creature that might be enough; but it is far from being all. For, II. PIOUS PARENTS, under such a Dispensation, may conclude _it is well for them_ in particular,--because he, who hath done it, is their Covenant GOD. THIS is the great Promise, to which all the Saints under the Old and New Testament are Heirs, _I will be to them a God, and they shall be to me a People_[m]: And if we are interested in it, the happy Consequence is, that we being his, all our Concerns are his also; all are humbly resigned to him,--and graciously administer'd by him,--and incomparably better Blessings bestowed and secured, than any which the most afflictive Providence can remove. IF we have any Share in this everlasting Covenant, all that we are or have, must, of course, have been _solemnly surrender'd_ to GOD. And this is a Thought peculiarly applicable to the Case immediately in view. "Did I not," may the Christian, in such a sad Circumstance, generally say, "did I not, in a very solemn Manner, bring this my Child to God in Baptism, and in that Ordinance recognize his Right to it? Did I not, with all humble _Subjection to the Father of Spirits_[n], and _Father of Mercies_[o], lay it down at his Feet, perhaps with an express, at least to be sure with a tacit Consent, that it should be disposed of by him, as his infinite Wisdom and Goodness should direct, whether for Life or for Death? And am I now to complain of him, because he has removed not only a Creature of his own, but one of the Children of his Family? Or shall I pretend, after all, to set up a Claim in Opposition to his? A Heathen Parent, even from the Light of Nature, might have learn'd silent Submission: How much more then a Christian Parent, who hath presented his Child to GOD in this initiatory Ordinance; and perhaps also many a time, both before and since, hath presented himself at the Table of the Lord! Have I not there taken that _Cup of Blessings_, with a declared Resolution of accepting every other _Cup_ how bitter soever it might be, _which my heavenly Father_ should see fit to _put into my Hand_[p]? When I have perhaps felt some painful Fore-bodings of what I am now suffering; I have, in my own Thoughts, particularly singled out that dear Object of my Cares and my Hopes, to lay it down anew at my Father's Feet, and say, _Lord thou gavest it to me, and I resign it to thee; continue, or remove it, as thou pleasest._ And did I then mean to trifle with GOD? Did I mean in effect to say, _Lord, I will give it up, if thou wilt not take it?"_ REFLECT farther, I beseech you, on your _secret Retirements_, and think, as surely some of you may, "How often have I there been on my Knees before GOD on account of this Child; and what was then my Language? Did I say, Lord, I absolutely insist on its Recovery; I cannot, on any Terms or any Considerations whatsoever, bear to think of losing it?" Sure we were none of us so indecently transported with the fondest Passion, as to be so _rash with our Mouths_ as _to utter_ such _Things before_ the Great GOD[q]. Such Presumption had deserv'd a much heavier Punishment than we are now bearing, and, if not retracted, may perhaps still have it.--Did not one or another of us rather say, "Lord, I would humbly intreat, with all due Submission to thy superior Wisdom and sovereign Pleasure, that my Child may live; but if it must be otherwise, _not my Will, but thine be done_[r]? I and mine are in thine Hand, _do with me_, and with them, _as seemeth good in thy Sight_[s]". And do we now blame ourselves for this? Would we unsay it again, and, if possible, take ourselves and our Children out of his Hands, whom we have so often owned as all-wise and all-gracious, and have chosen as our great Guardian and theirs? LET it farther be consider'd, it is done by that GOD who has _accepted of this Surrender_, so as to undertake the Administration of our Affairs: "He is become my Covenant GOD in Christ," may the Christian say; "and, in consequence of that Covenant, he hath engaged to manage the Concerns and Interests of his People so, that _all Things shall work together for good to them that love him_[t]: And do I not love him? Answer, Oh my Heart, dost thou not love thy GOD much better than all the Blessings which Earth can boast, or which the Grave hath swallowed up? Wouldst thou resign thine Interest in him to recover these precious Spoils, to receive this dear Child from the Dust, a thousand times fairer and sweeter than before? Rather let Death devour every remaining Comfort, and leave me alone with him; with whom when I indeed am, I miss not the Creatures, but rather rejoice in their Absence, as I am then more intire with _him whom my Soul loveth._ And if I do indeed love him, this Promise is mine, and _all Things_, and therefore this sad Event in particular, _shall work together for my good._ Shall I not then say, _It is well?_ What if it exceeded all the Stretch of my Thoughts, to conceive _how_ it could, in any Instance, be so? What are my narrow Conceptions, that they should pretend to circumscribe infinite Wisdom, Faithfulness, and Mercy? Let me rather, with _Abraham, give Glory to God, and in Hope believe against Hope_[u]". ONCE more; let us consider how many _invaluable Blessings_ are given us by this Covenant, and then judge whether we have not the utmost Reason to acquiesce in such an Event of Providence. "If I am in Covenant with God," may the Believer say, "then he hath pardoned my Sins, and renewed my Heart, and hath made his blessed Spirit dwelling in me, the sacred Bond of an everlasting Union between him and my Soul. He is leading me through the Wilderness, and will, ere long, lead me out of it to the heavenly _Canaan_. And how far am I already arrived in my Journey thither, now that I am come to the Age of losing a Child! And when GOD hath done all this for me, is he rashly to be suspected of Unkindness? _He that spared not his own Son_[w], he that gave me with him his Spirit and his Kingdom, why doth he deny, or why doth he remove, any other Favour? Did he think the Life of this Child too great a Good to grant, when he thought not Christ and Glory too precious? Away with that Thought, Oh my unbelieving Heart, and with every Thought which would derogate from such rich amazing Grace, or would bring any thing in comparison with it. Art thou under these Obligations to him, and wilt thou yet complain? With what Grace, with what Decency canst thou dispute this, or any other Matter, with thy GOD? _What Right have I yet to cry any more to the King?_[x]" Would any of you, my Brethren, venture to say, "What tho' I be a Child of GOD, and an Heir of Glory, it matters not, for _my Gourd is withered_; that pleasant Plant which was opening so fair and so delightful, under the Shadow of which I expected long to have sate, and even _the Rock of Ages_ cannot shelter me so well? I can behold that beloved Face no more, and therefore I will not look upward to behold the Face of GOD, I will not look forward to Christ and to Heaven?" Would this, my Friends, be the Language of a real Christian? Nay, are there not many abandon'd Sinners who would tremble at such Expressions? Yet is it not in effect the Language of our tumultuous Passions, when, like _Rachel,_ we are _mourning for our Children,_ and _will not be comforted, because they are not_[y]? Is it not our Language while we cannot, like the pious _Shunamite_ in the Text, bring our afflicted Hearts to say, _It is well?_ III. PIOUS PARENTS, in such a Circumstance, have farther Reason to say, _It is well_,--as they may observe an apparent Tendency in such a Dispensation to teach them a Variety of the most instructive and useful Lessons, in a very convincing and effectual Manner. 'TIS a just Observation of _Solomon_, that _the Rod and Reproof give Wisdom_[z]; and 'tis peculiarly applicable to such a Chastisement of our heavenly Father. It should therefore be our great Care to _bear the Rod and him that hath appointed it_[a]; and so far as it hath a Tendency to teach us our Duty, and to improve the divine Life in our Souls, we have the highest Reason to say, that _it is_ indeed _well._ EVERY Affliction hath in its Degree this kind of Tendency, and 'tis the very Reason for which _we are_ thus _chastened_, that we may _profit_ by our Sorrows, and be made _Partakers of God's Holiness_[b]. But this Dispensation is peculiarly adapted, in a very affecting Manner,--to teach us the Vanity of the World,--to warn us of the Approach of our own Death,--to quicken us in the Duties incumbent upon us, especially to our surviving Children,--and to produce a more intire Resignation to the Divine Will, which is indeed the surest Foundation of Quiet, and Source of Happiness. I SHALL insist a little more particularly on each of these; and I desire that it may be remembered, that the Sight and Knowledge of such mournful Providences as are now before us, should, in some Degree, be improved to these Purposes, even by those Parents whose Families are most prosperous and joyful: May they learn Wisdom and Piety from what _we_ suffer, and their Improvements shall be acknowledged as an additional Reason for _us_ to say, _It is well._ 1. WHEN GOD takes away our Children from us, it is a very affecting Lesson of the Vanity of the World. THERE is hardly a Child born into it, on whom the Parents do not look with some pleasing Expectation that it shall _comfort them concerning their Labour_[c]. This makes the Toil of Education easy and delightful: And truly 'tis very early that we begin to find a Sweetness in it, which abundantly repays all the Fatigue. Five, or four, or three, or two Years, make Discoveries which afford immediate Pleasure, and which suggest future Hopes. Their Words, their Actions, their very Looks touch us, if they be amiable and promising Children, in a tender, but very powerful Manner; their little Arms twine about our Hearts; and there is something more penetrating in their first broken Accents of Indearment, than in all the Pomp and Ornament of Words. Every Infant-Year increases the Pleasure, and nourishes the Hope. And where is the Parent so wise and so cautious, and so constantly intent on his Journey to Heaven, as not to measure back a few Steps to Earth again, on such a plausible and decent Occasion, as that of introducing the young Stranger into the Amusements, nay perhaps, where Circumstances will admit it, into the Elegancies of Life, as well as its more serious and important Business? What fond Calculations do we form of what it _will be_, from what _it is_! How do we in Thought open every Blossom of Sprightliness, or Humanity, or Piety, to its full Spread, and ripen it to a sudden Maturity! But, oh, who shall teach those that have never felt it, how it tears the very Soul; when GOD roots up the tender Plant with an inexorable Hand, and withers the Bud in which the Colours were beginning to glow! Where is now our Delight? Where is our Hope? Is it in the Coffin? Is it in the Grave? Alas! all the Loveliness of Person, of Genius, and of Temper, serves but to point and to poison the Arrow, which is drawn out of our own Quiver to wound us. Vain, delusive, transitory Joys! "And such, Oh my Soul," will the Christian say, "such are thine earthly Comforts in every Child, in every Relative, in every Possession of Life; such are the Objects of thy Hopes, and thy Fears, thy Schemes, and thy Labours, where Earth alone is concerned. Let me then, once for all, direct mine Eyes to another and a better State. From these _broken Cisterns_, the Fragments of which may hurt me indeed, but can no longer refresh me, let me look to the _Fountain of living Waters_[d]. From these setting, Stars, or rather these bright but vanishing Meteors, which make my Darkness so much the more sensible, let me turn to the _Father of Lights._ Oh Lord, _What wait I for? my Hope is in thee_[e], my Pure Abode, my everlasting Confidence! My Gourds wither, my Children die; but _the Lord liveth, and blessed be my Rock, and let the God of my Salvation be exalted_[f]. I see, in one Instance more, the sad Effects of having over-loved the Creature; let me endeavour for the future, by the Divine Assistance, to fix my Affections there where they cannot exceed; but where all the Ardor of them will be as much my Security and my Happiness, as it is now my Snare and my Distress." 2. THE Removal of our Children by such awful Strokes may warn us of the Approach of our own Death. HEREBY GOD doth very sensibly shew us, and those around us, that _all Flesh is as Grass, and all the Glory_ and Loveliness _of it like the Flower of the Field_[g]. And when our own Habitations are made the Houses of Mourning, and ourselves the Leaders in that sad Procession, it may surely be expected that we should lay it to Heart, so as to be quicken'd and improved by the View. "Have my Children died in the Morning of their Days, and can I promise myself that I shall see the Evening of mine? Now perhaps may I say, in a more literal Sense than ever, _The Graves are ready for me_[h]. One of my Family, and some of us may add, the Firft-born of it, is gone as it were to take Possession of the Sepulchre in all our Names; and ere long I shall lie down with my Child in the same Bed; yea perhaps many of the Feet that followed it shall attend me thither. Our Dust shortly shall be blended together; and who can tell but this Providence might chiefly be intended as a Warning Blow to me, that these concluding Days of my Life might be more regular, more spiritual, more useful than the former?" 3. THE Providence before us may be farther improved to quicken us in the Duties of Life, and especially in the Education of surviving Children. IT is, on the Principles I hinted above, an Engagement, that _whatever our Hand findeth to do, we should do it with all our Might_, since it so plainly shews us that we are _going to the Grave, where there is no Device, nor Knowledge, nor Working_[j]: But permit me especially to observe, how peculiarly the Sentiments we feel on these sad Occasions, may be improved for the Advantage of our dear Offspring who yet remain, and quicken us to a proper Care in their religious Education. We all see that it is a very reasonable Duty, and every Christian Parent resolves that he will _ere long_ apply himself to it; but I am afraid, great Advantages are lost by a Delay, which we think we can easily excuse. Our Hands are full of a Variety of Affairs, and our Children are yet very young: We are therefore ready to imagine 'tis a good Husbandry of Time to defer our Attempts for their Instruction to a more _convenient Season_[k], when they may be able to learn more in an Hour, than the Labour of Days could now teach them; besides that we are apprehensive of Danger in over-loading their tender Spirits, especially when they are perhaps under Indisposition, and need to be diverted, rather than gravely advised and instructed. BUT I beseech you, my Friends, let us view the Matter with that Impartiality, which the Eloquence of Death hath a Tendency to produce. "That lovely Creature that GOD hath now taken away, tho' its Days were few, tho' its Faculties were weak, yet might it not have known a great deal more of Religion than it did, and felt a great deal more of it too, had I faithfully and prudently done my Part? How did it learn Language so soon, and in such a Compass and Readiness? Not by multiplied Rules, nor labour'd Instruction, but by Conversation. And might it not have learn'd much more of Divine Things by Conversation too, if they had been allowed a due Share in our Thoughts and our Discourses; according to the Charge given to the _Israelites_, to _talk of them going out and coming in, lying down and rising up_[l]? How soon did it learn Trifles, and retain them, and after its little way observe and reason upon them, perhaps with a Vivacity that sometimes surprized me! And had I been as diligent as I ought, who can tell what Progress it might have made in Divine Knowledge? Who can tell but, as a Reward to these pious Cares, GOD might have put a Word into its dying Lips, which I might all my Life have recollected with Pleasure, and _out of its_ feeble _Mouth might have perfected Praise_[m]?" MY Friends, let us humble ourselves deeply before GOD under a Sense of our past Neglects, and let us learn our future Duty. We may perhaps be ready fondly to say, "Oh that it were possible my Child could be restored to me again, tho' it were but for a few Weeks or Days! how diligently would I attempt to supply my former Deficiencies!" Unprofitable Wish! Yet may the Thought be improved for the good of surviving Children. How shall we express our Affection to them? Not surely by indulging all the Demands of Appetite and Fancy, in many early Instances so hazardous, and so fatal; not by a Solicitude to treasure up Wealth for them, whose only Portion may perhaps be a little Coffin and Shrowd. No; our truest Kindness to them will be to endeavour, by Divine Grace, to form them to an early Inquiry after GOD, and Christ, and Heaven, and a Love for real Goodness in all the Forms of it which may come within their Observation and Notice. Let us apply ourselves immediately to this Talk, as those that remember there is a double Uncertainty, in their Lives, and in ours. In a Word, let us be _that_ with regard to every Child that yet remains, which we proposed and engaged to be to that which is taken away, when we pleaded with GOD for the Continuance of its Life, at least for a little while, that it might be farther assisted in the Preparations for Death and Eternity. If such Resolutions be formed and pursued, the Death of one may be the Means of spiritual Life to many; and we shall surely have Reason to say _it is well_, if it teach us so useful a Lesson. 4. THE Providence before us may have a special Tendency to improve our Resignation to the Divine Will; and if it does so, it will indeed be _well_. THERE is surely no imaginable Situation of Mind so sweet and so reasonable, as that which we feel, when we humbly refer ourselves in all Things to the Divine Disposal, in an intire Suspension of our own Will, seeing and owning the Hand of GOD, and bowing before it with a filial Acquiescence. This is chiefly to be learn'd from suffering; and perhaps there is no Suffering which is fitter to teach it, than this. In many other Afflictions there is such a Mixture of human Interposition, that we are ready to imagine, we may be allowed to complain, and to chide a little. Indignation mingles itself with our Grief; and when it does so, it warms the Mind, tho' with a feverish Kind of Heat, and in an unnatural Flow of Spirits, leads the Heart into a Forgetfulness of GOD. But here it is so apparently his Hand, that we must refer it to him, and it will appear bold Impiety to quarrel at what is done. In other Instances we can at least flatter ourselves with Hope, that the Calamity may be diverted, or the Enjoyment recovered; but here alas! there is no Hope. "Tears will not," as [*]Sir _William Temple_ finely expresses it, "water the lovely Plant so as to cause it to grow again; Sighs will not give it new Breath, nor can we furnish it with Life and Spirits by the Waste of our own." The Sentence is finally gone forth, and the last fatal Stroke irrecoverably given. Opposition is vain; a forced Submission gives but little Rest to the Mind; a cordial Acquiescence in the Divine Will is the only thing in the whole World that can ease the labouring Heart, and restore true Serenity. Remaining Corruption will work on such an Occasion, and a painful Struggle will convince the Christian how imperfect his present Attainments are: And this will probably lead him to an attentive Review of the great Reasons for Submission; it will lead him to urge them on his own Soul, and to plead them with GOD in Prayer; till at length the Storm is laid, and _Tribulation worketh Patience, and Patience Experience, and Experience a Hope which maketh not ashamed,_ while _the Love of God is so shed abroad in the Heart_[n], as to humble it for every preceding Opposition, and to bring it even to a real Approbation of all that so wise and good a Friend hath done; resigning every other Interest and Enjoyment to his Disposal, and fitting do with the sweet Resolution of the Prophet, _Tho' the Fig-tree do not blossom, and there be no Fruit in the Vine, &c. yet will I rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of my Salvation_[o]. And when we are brought to this, the whole Horizon clears, and the Sun breaks forth in its Strength. NOW I appeal to every sincere Christian in the Assembly, whether there will not be Reason indeed to say _it is well_, if by this painful Affliction we more sensibly learn the Vanity of the Creature and we are awakened to serious Thoughts of our own latter End; if by it we are quickned in the Duties of Life, and formed to a more intire Resignation of Soul, and Acquiescence in the Divine Will. I shall only add once more, and 'tis a Thought of delightful Importance, IV. THAT pious Parents have Reason to hope _it is well_ with those dear Creatures who are taken away in their early Days. I SEE not that the Word of GOD hath any whit passed a damnatory Sentence on any Infants; and it has not, I am sure we have no Authority to doubt, especially considering with how much Compassion the Divine Being speaks of them in the Instance of the _Ninevites_[p], and on some other Occasions. Perhaps, as some pious Divines have conjectured, they may constitute a very considerable Part of Number of the Elect, and, _as in Adam_ they _all died_, they may _in Christ all be made alive_[q]. At least, methinks, from the Covenant which GOD made with _Abraham_, and his Seed, _the Blessings of which_ are _come upon the_ believing _Gentiles_[r], there is Reason to hope well concerning the Infant Offspring of GOD'S People, early devoted, and often recommended to him, that their _Souls_ will be _bound in the Bundle of Life_[s], and _be loved for their Parents Sakes_[t]. IT is, indeed, impossible for us to say, how soon Children may be capable of contracting personal Guilt. They are quickly able to distinguish, some Degree, between Right and Wrong; and 'tis too plain, that they as quickly, in many Instances, forget the Distinction. The Corruptions of Nature begin early to work, and shew the Need of sanctifying Grace; yet, without a Miracle, it cannot be expected that much of the Christian Scheme should be understood by these little Creatures, in the first dawning of Reason, tho' a few evangelical Phrases may be taught, and, sometimes, by a happy kind of Accident, may be rightly applied. The tender Heart of a Parent may, perhaps, take a Hint, from hence to terrify itself, and exasperate all its other Sorrows, by that sad Thought, "What if my dear Child be perished for ever? gone from our Embraces, and all the little Pleasures we could give it, to everlasting Darkness and Pain?" Horrible Imagination! And Satan may, perhaps, take the Advantage of these gloomy Moments, to aggravate every little Infirmity into a Crime, and to throw us into an Agony, which no other View of the Affliction can possibly give, to a Soul penetrated with a Sense of Eternity. Nor do I know a Thought, in the whole Compass of Nature, that hath a more powerful Tendency to produce suspicious Notions of GOD, and a secret Alienation of Heart from him. NOW for this very Reason, methinks, we should guard against so harsh a Conclusion, lest we, at once, injure the Divine Being, and torture ourselves. And, surely, we may easily fall on some Reflections which may incourage our Hopes, where _little Children_ are concerned; and 'tis only of that Case that I am now speaking. Let us think of the blessed GOD, as the great Parent of universal Nature; whose _tender Mercies are over all his Works_[t]; who declares that Judgment is _his strange Work_[u]; who _is very pitiful, and of tender Mercy_[w], _gracious and full of Compassion_[x]; who _delighteth in Mercy_[y]; who _waiteth to be gracious_[z]; and _endureth, with much Long-suffering,_ even _the Vessels of Wrath fitted to Destruction_[a]. He intimately _knows our Frame_[b], and our Circumstances; he sees the Weakness of the unformed Mind; how forcibly the volatile Spirits are struck with a thousand new amusing Objects around it, and born away as a Feather before the Wind; and, on the other hand, how, when Distempers seize it, the feeble Powers are over-born in a Moment, and render'd incapable of any Degree of Application and Attention. And, Lord, wilt thou _open thine Eyes on such a one, to bring_ it _into_ strict _Judgment with thee_[c]? Amidst all the Instances of thy Patience, and thy Bounty, to the most abandon'd of Mankind, are these little helpless Creatures the Objects of thy speedy Vengeance, and final Severity? LET us farther consider, as it is a very comfortable Thought in these Circumstances, the compassionate Regard which the blessed _Jesus_ expressed to little Children. He was _much displeased_ with those who forbad their being _brought_ to him; _and said, Suffer them to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the Kingdom of GOD_; and _taking them up in his Arms, he laid his Hands upon them, and blessed them_[d]. In another Instance we are told, that he _took a little Child_, (who appears to have been old enough to come at his Call,) and _set him in the Midst of his Disciples, and said, Except ye become as little Children, you shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of Heaven_[e]. May we not then hope that many little Children are admitted into it? And may not that Hope be greatly confirmed from whatever, of an amiable and regular Disposition, we have observed in those that are taken away? If we have seen [+]_a Tenderness of Conscience in any thing which they apprehended would displease the great and good GOD; a Love to Truth; a Readiness to attend on Divine Worship, from some imperfect Notion of its general Design, though the Particulars of it could not be understood; an open, candid, benevolent Heart; a tender Sense of Obligation, and a Desire, according to their little Power, to repay it_; may we not hope that these were some of the _first Fruits of the Spirit_[f], which he would, in due Time, have ripened into Christian Graces, and are now, on a sudden, perfected by that great Almighty Agent _who worketh all, and in all_[g]? SURE I am, that this blessed Spirit hath no inconsiderable Work to perform on the most established Christians, to finish them to a complete Meetness for the Heavenly World: Would to GOD, there were no greater Blemishes to be observed in their Character, than the little Vanities of Children! With infinite Ease then can he perfect what is lacking in their unfinished Minds, and pour out upon them, in a Moment, that Light and Grace, which shall qualify them for a State, in Comparison of which, ours on Earth is but Childhood or Infancy. NOW what a noble Source of Consolation is here! Then may the affectionate Parent say, "_It is well_, not only with me, but _with the Child_ too: Incomparably better than if my ardent Wishes, and importunate Prayers for its Recovery, had been answered. _It is_ indeed _well_, if that beloved Creature be _fallen asleep in Christ_[h]; if that dear Lamb be folded in the Arms of the compassionate Shepherd, and gathered into his gracious Bosom. Self-love might have led me to wish its longer Continuance here; but if I truly _loved_ my Child with a solid, rational Affection, I should much rather _rejoice_, to think _it is gone to_ a heavenly _Father_[i], and to the World of perfected Spirits above. Had it been spared to me, how slowly could I have taught it! and in the full Ripeness of its Age, what had it been, when compared with what it now is! How is it shot up on a sudden, from the Converse and the Toys of Children, to be a Companion with Saints and Angels, in the Employment, and the Blessedness of Heaven! Shall I then complain of it as a rigorous Severity to my Family, that GOD hath taken it to the Family above? And what if he hath chosen to bestow the distinguished Favour on _that one_ of my little Flock, who was formed to take the tenderest Hold of my Heart? Was there Unkindness in that? What if he saw, that the very Sprightliness and Softness which made it to me so exquisitely delightful, might, in Time, have betrayed it into Ruin; and took this Method of sheltering it from Trials which had, otherwise, been too hard for it, and so fixing a Seal on its Character and Happiness? What if that strong Attachment of my Heart to it, had been a Snare to the Child, and to me? Or what if it had been otherwise? Do I need additional Reasons to justify the Divine Conduct, in an Instance which my Child is celebrating in the Songs of Heaven? If it is a new and untasted Affliction to have such a tender Branch lopp'd off, it is also a new Honour to be the Parent of a glorified Saint." And, as good Mr. _Howe_ expressed it on another Occasion, "_If GOD be pleased, and his glorified Creature be pleased, who are we that we should be displeased?"_[*] "Could I wish, that this young Inhabitant of Heaven should be degraded to Earth again? Or would it thank me for that With? Would it say, that it was the Part of a wife Parent, to call it down from a Sphere of finch exalted Services and Pleasures, to our low Life here upon Earth? Let me rather be thankful for the pleasing Hope, that tho' GOD loves my Child too well to permit it to return to me, he will ere long bring me to it. And then that endeared paternal Affection, which would have been a Cord to tie me to Earth, and have added new Pangs to my Removal from it, will be asa golden Chain to draw me upwards, and add one farther Charm and Joy even to Paradise itself." And oh, how great a Joy to view the Change, and to compare that dear Idea, so fondly laid up, so often reviewed, with the now glorious Original, in the Improvements of the upper World! To borrow the Words of the sacred Writer, in a very different Sense? "_I said, I was desolate and bereaved of Children, and who hath brought up these? I was left alone, and these where have they been?_[k] Was this my Desolation? this my Sorrow? to part with thee for a few Days, _that I might receive thee for Ever_[l], and find thee what thou now art!" It is for no Language, but that of Heaven, to describe the sacred Joy which such a Meeting must occasion. IN the mean time, Christians, let us keep up the lively Expectation of it, and let what has befallen us draw our Thoughts upwards. Perhaps they will sometimes, before we are aware, sink to the Grave, and dwell in the Tombs that contain the poor Remains of what was once so dear to us. But let them take Flight from thence to more noble, more delightful Scenes. And I will add, let the Hope we have of the Happiness of our Children render GOD still dearer to our Souls. We feel a very tender Sense of the Kindness which our Friends expressed towards them, and think, indeed very justly, that their affectionate Care for them lays a lasting Obligation upon us. What Love then, and what Service do we owe to thee, oh gracious Father, who hast, we hope, received them into thine House above, and art now entertaining them there with unknown Delight, tho' our former Methods of Commerce with them be cut off! "Lord," should each of us say in such a Case, "I would take what thou art doing to my Child as done to my self, and as a Specimen and Earnest of what shall shortly be done." _It is_ therefore _well_. IT only remains, that I conclude with a few Hints of farther Improvement. 1. LET pious Parents, who have lost hopeful Children _in a maturer Age_, join with others in saying, _It is well_. MY Friends, the Reasons which I have been urging at large, are common to you with us; and permit me to add, that as your Case has its peculiar Distress, it has, I think, in a yet greater Degree, its peculiar Consolations too. I KNOW you will say, that it is inexpressibly grievous and painful, to part with Children who were grown up into most amiable Friends, who were your Companions in the Ways of GOD, and concerning whom you had a most agreeable Prospect, that they would have been the Ornaments and Supports of Religion in the rising Age, and extensive Blessings to the World, long after you had quitted it. These Reasonings have, undoubtedly, their Weight; and they have so, when considered in a very different View. Must you not acknowledge _it is well_, that you enjoyed so many Years of Comfort in them? that you reaped so much solid Satisfaction from them? and saw those Evidences of a Work of Grace upon their Hearts, which give you such abundant Reason to conclude that they are now received to that Inheritance of Glory, for which they were so apparently _made meet_? Some of them, perhaps, had already quitted their Father's House: As for others, had GOD spared their Lives, they might have been transplanted into Families of their own: And if, instead of being removed to another House, or Town, or County, they are taken by GOD into another World, is that a Matter of so great Complaint; when that World is so much better, and you are yourselves so near it? I put it to your Hearts, Christians, Would you rather have chosen to have buried them in their Infancy, or never to have known the Joys and the Hopes of a Parent, now you know the Vicissitude of Sorrow, and of Disappointment? But perhaps, you will say, that you chiefly grieve for that Loss which the World has sustained by the Removal of those, from whom it might reasonably have expected so much future Service. This is, indeed, a generous, and a Christian Sentiment, and there is something noble in those Tears which flow on such a Consideration. But do not so remember your Relation to Earth, as to forget that which you bear to Heaven; and do not so wrong the Divine Wisdom and Goodness, as to suppose, that when he takes away from hence promising Instruments of Service, he there lays them by as useless. Much more reasonable is it to conclude, that their Sphere of Action, as well as Happiness, is inlarged, and that the Church above hath gained incomparably more, than that below can be supposed to have lost by their Death. ON the whole, therefore, far from complaining of the Divine Conduct in this Respect, it will become you, my Friends, rather to be very thankful that these dear Children were spared so long; to accompany and entertain you in so many Stages of your short Journey thro' Life, to answer so many of your Hopes, and to establish so many more beyond all Fear of Disappointment. Reflect on all that GOD did in, and upon them, on all he was beginning to do by them, and on what you have great Reason to believe he is now doing for them; and adore his Name, that he has left you these dear Memorials, by which your Case is so happily distinguished from ours, whose Hopes in our Children withered in the very Bud; or from theirs, who saw those who were once so dear to them, perishing, as they have Cause to fear, _in the Paths of the Destroyer._ BUT while I speak thus, methinks I am alarmed, lest I should awaken the far more grievous Sorrows of some mournful Parent, whom it will not be so easy to comfort. My Brethren and Friends, what shall I say to you, who are lamenting over your _Absaloms_, and almost wishing _you had died for them_[m]? Shall I urge _you_ to say _it is well?_ Perhaps you may think it a great Attainment, if, like _Aaron,_ when his Sons _died before the Lord_, you _can hold your Peace_[n], under the awful Stroke. My Soul is troubled for you; _my Words are_ almost _swallowed up._ I cannot unsay what I have elsewhere said at large on this melancholy Subject[*]. Yet let me remind you of this, that you do not certainly know what Almighty Grace might do for these lamented Creatures, even in the latest Moments, and have therefore no Warrant confidently to pronounce that they are assuredly perished. And if you cannot but tremble in the too probable Fear of it, labour to turn your Eyes from so dark a Prospect, to those better Hopes which GOD is setting before _you_. For surely you still have abundant Reason to rejoice in that Grace, which gives your own _Lives to you as a Prey_, and has brought you so near to that blessed World, where, hard as it is now to conceive it, you will have laid aside every Affection of Nature, which interferes with the Interests of GOD, and prevents your most chearful Acquiescence in every Particular of his wise and gracious Determinations. 2. FROM what we have heard, let us learn not to think of the Loss of our Children with a slavish Dread. IT is to a Parent indeed such a cutting Stroke, that I wonder not if Nature shrink back at the very Mention of it: And, perhaps, it would make those to whom GOD hath denied Children more easy, if they knew what some of the happiest Parents feel in an uncertain Apprehension of the Loss of theirs: An Apprehension which strikes with peculiar Force on the Mind, when Experience hath taught us the Anguish of such an Affliction in former Instances. But let us not anticipate Evils: Perhaps all our Children, who are hitherto spared, may follow us to the Grave Or, if otherwise, we _sorrow not as those who have no Hope_[p]. We may have Reason still to say; _It is well_, and, thro' Divine Grace, we may also have Hearts to say it. Whatever we lose, if we be the Children of GOD, we shall never lose our Heavenly Father, He will still be our Support, and our Joy. And therefore let us turn all our Anxiety about uncertain, future Events, into a holy Solicitude to please him, and to promote religious Impressions in the Hearts of our dear Offspring; that if GOD should see fit to take them away, we may have a Claim to the full Consolations, which I have been representing in the preceding Discourse. 3. LET us not sink in hopeless Sorrow, or break out into clamorous Complaints, if GOD has brought this heavy Affliction upon us. A STUPID Indifference would be absurd and unnatural: GOD and Man might look upon us as acting a most unworthy Part, should we be like _the Ostrich in the Wilderness, which hardeneth herself against her young ones, as if they were not hers; because GOD hath deprived her of Wisdom, neither hath he imparted to her Understanding_[q]. Let us sorrow like Men, and like Parents; but let us not, in the mean time, forget that we are Christians. Let us remember how common the Calamity is; few Parents are exempt from it; some of the most pious and excellent have lost amiable Children, with Circumstances perhaps of peculiar Aggravation. 'Tis a Trial which GOD hath chosen for the Exercise of some who have been eminently dear to him, as we may learn from a Variety of Instances both ancient and modern. Let us recollect our many Offences against our heavenly Father, those Sins which such a Dispensation may properly _bring to our Remembrance_[r]; and let that silence us, and teach us to own, that _'tis of the Lord's Mercies we are not consumed_[s], and that we are _punished less than our Iniquities deserve_[t]. Let us look round on our surviving Comforts; let us look forward to our future, our eternal Hopes; and we shall surely see, that there is still Room for Praise, still a Call for it. Let us review the Particulars mentioned above, and then let Conscience determine whether it doth not become us, in this particular Instance, to say it steadily, and chearfully too, Even _this is well._ And may the GOD of all Grace and Comfort apply these Considerations to our Mind, that we may not only own them, but feel them, as a reviving Cordial when our Heart is overwhelmed within us! In the mean Time, let me beseech you whose _tabernacles are in Peace_[u], and whose _Children are yet about you_[w], that you would not be severe in censuring our Tears, till you have experimentally known our Sorrows, and yourselves tasted _the Wormwood and the Gall_, which we, with all our Comforts, must have in a long and a bitter _Remembrance_[x]. 4. LET those of us who are under the Rod, be very solicitous to improve it aright, that in the End it may indeed be _well_. HEAR, my Brethren, my Friends and Fellow-Sufferers, hear and _suffer the word of Exhortation_[y]. Let us be much concerned, that we may not bear all the Smart of such an Affliction, and, through our own Folly, lose all that Benefit which might, otherwise, be a rich Equivalent. In Proportion to the Grievousness of the Stroke, should be our Care to attend to the Design of it. Let us, now GOD is calling us to Mourning and Lamentation, be _searching and trying our Ways, that we may turn again unto the Lord_[z]. Let us review the Conduct of our Lives, and the State and Tenour of our Affections, that we may observe what hath been deficient, and what irregular; that proper Remedies may be applied, and those important Lessons more thoroughly learnt, which I was mentioning under the former Branch of my Discourse. Let us pray, that through our Tears we may read our Duty, and that by the Heat of the Furnace we may be so melted, that our Dross may be purged away, and the Divine Image instamped on our Souls in brighter and fairer Characters. To sum up all in one Word, let us endeavour to set our Hearts more on that GOD, who is infinitely _better to us than ten Children_[a], who hath _given us a Name better than that of Sons or of Daughters_[b], and can abundantly supply the Place of all earthly Enjoyments with the rich Communications of his Grace: Nay, perhaps, we may add, who hath removed some Darling of our Hearts, lest to our infinite Detriment it should fill his Place there, and, by alienating us from his Love and Service, have a fatal Influence on our present Peace, and our future Happiness. ETERNAL Glory, my Friends, is so great a Thing, and the compleat Love and Enjoyment of GOD so unutterably desirable, that it is well worth our while to bear the sharpest Sorrows, by which we may be more perfectly formed for it. We may even congratulate the Death of our Children, if it bring us nearer to our heavenly Father; and teach us, (instead of filling this Vacancy in our Heart with some new Vanity, which may shortly renew our Sorrows,) to consecrate the whole of it to him who alone deserves, and can alone answer the most intense Affection. Let us try what of this kind may be done. We are now going to the Table of the Lord[*], to that very Table where our Vows have often been sealed, where our Comforts have often been reigned, where our _Isaac's_ have been conditionally sacrificed, and where we commemorate the real Sacrifice which GOD hath made even of his only begotten Son for us. May our other Sorrows be suspended, while we _mourn for him whom we have pierced, as for an only Son, and are in Bitterness as for a First-born_[c]. From his Blood Consolations spring up, which will flourish even on the Graves of our dear Children; and the Sweetness of that Cup which he there gives us, will temper the most distasteful Ingredients of the other. Our Houses _are not so with GOD_, as they once were, as we once expected they would have been, but _he hath made with us an everlasting Covenant_, and these are the Tokens of it. Blessed be his Name, we hold not the Mercies of that Covenant by so precarious a Tenure as the Life of any Creature. _It is well ordered in all things and sure:_ May _it be all our Salvation, and all our Desire_[d]; and then it is but a little while, and all our Complaints will cease. _GOD will wipe away these Tears from our Eyes_[e], our peaceful and happy Spirits shall ere long meet with those of our Children which he hath taken to himself. Our Bodies shall sleep, and ere long also awake, and arise with theirs. _Death_, that inexorable Destroyer, _shall be swallowed up in Victory_[f], while we and ours surround the Throne with everlasting Hallelujahs, and own, with another Evidence than we can now perceive; with another Spirit than we can now express, that _All was indeed well_. Amen. _FINIS._ Footnotes. + _The Duke of_ Burgundy. _See_ Cambray's _Life_, p. 329. * Tibi monstrabo Amatorium sine Medicamento, sine Herbis, sine ullius Veneficae; Carmine, _Si vis amari, ama._ SEN. a Heb. iv. 15.--Heb. ii. 18. b 2 Cor. i. 4. c Job iv. 3,--5. d Job xv. 11. e Isa x. 18. f Heb. xii. 9. g Lev. x. 3. h Job i. 21. i Math. xxi. 16. k Luke i. 18. l Luke i. 38. m Jon. ii. 2. n Jon. iv. 9. o 2 Kings iv. 18, 20. p 1 Kings xvii. 17, & seq. * See _Henry_, in loc. q 1 Tim. vi. 11; 2 Tim. iii. 17. r 2 Kings. iv. 23. s Isa. xxxix. 8. t Ezek. xxiv. 16. u Psal. cxli. 3. w Jer. x. 19. x Psal. lxxiv. 22. y Psal. xxxix. 9. z 1 Sam. iii. 18. a Rom. ix. 20. b Psal ciii. 19. c Matt. x. 29, 30. d Psal. cxxi. 4. e Jer. xv. 7. f Ezek. xxiv. 16. g Job xiv. 20. h Psal. xc. 3. i Job xxi. 22. k Job. ii. 5. l Psal. xcvii. 2. m Heb. viii. 10. n Ibid. xii. 9. o 2 Cor. i. 3. p John xviii. 11. q Eccles. v. 2. r Matt. xxvi. 39. s 2 Sam. xv. 26. t Rom. viii. 28. u Rom. iv. 18, 20. w Ibid. viii. 32. x 2 Sam. xix. 28. y Jer. xxxi. 15. z Prov. xxix. 15. a Mich. vi. 9. b Heb. xii. 10. c Gen. v. 29. d Jer. ii. 13. e Psal. xxxix. 7. f Ibid. xviii. 46. g 1 Pet. i. 24. h Job xvii. 1. j Eccles. ix. 10. k Acts xxiv. 25. l Deu. vi. 7. m Matth. 21. 16. * _Temple_'s Essays, Vol. I. p. 178. n Rom. v. 3--5. o Hab. iii. 17, 18. p Jonah iv. _ult_. q 1 Cor. xv. 22. r Gal. iii. 14. s 1 Sam. xxv. 29. t Rom. xi. 28. t Psal. cxlv. 9. u Isa. xxviii. 21. w James v. 11. x Psal. cxi. 4. y Micah vii. 18. z Isa. xxx. 18. a Rom. ix. 22. b Psal. ciii. 14. c Job xiv. 3. d Mark x. 13,--16. e Mat. xviii. 2, 3. f Rom. viii. 23. g 1 Cor. xii. 6. + I bless GOD, all these Things were very evident in that dear Child, whose Death occasioned this Discourse. h 1 Cor. xv. 18. i John xiv. 28. * _Howe_'s Life, _pag_. 32. _Fal. Edit._ k Isa. xlix. 21. l Philem. _ver_. 13. m 2 Sam. xviii. 33. n Lev. x. 3. * In the Sixth of my _Sermons to young Persons_, intitled, _The Reflections of a pious Parent on the Death of a wicked Child._ p 1 Thess. iv. 13. q Job xxxix. 16, 17. r 1 Kings xvii. 18. s Lam. iii. 22. t Ezra ix. 13. u Job v. 24. w Ibid. xxix. 5. x Lam. iii. 19, 20. y Heb. xiii. 22. z Lam. iii. 40. a 1 Sam. i. 8. b Isa. lvi. 5. * _N. B._ This Sermon was preached _October_ 3, 1736. it being Sacrament Day. The Child died _October_ 1. c Zech. xii. 10. d 2 Sam. xxiii. 5. e Rev. xxi. 4. f 1 Cor. xv. 54. 
33515	----	produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) MISREAD PASSAGES OF SCRIPTURE. BY J. BALDWIN BROWN, B.A., _Author of "The Divine Life in Man," "The Home Life," &c., &c._ New York: CARLTON & LANAHAN, 805, BROADWAY. 1869. PREFACE. The accompanying Sermons on "Misread Passages of Scripture" form part of a series which the author projected, but which through ill health he has been unable to complete. He sends them forth in this imperfect form, in compliance with the wish of the publishers; and in the belief too that the topics of some of them will not be without interest, in the conflict of thought on theological subjects which waxes rather than wanes year by year. The reader will see that much space has not been occupied with critical discussions; nor has the author gone out of his way to correct the English version of the Scriptures. He appreciates fully the value of critical inquiries; but it is wonderful how the sense of leading passages of the Bible gets moulded, apart from, and even in defiance of, critical considerations, by the bias of the various theological schools. Each school makes, if not its own version of the Bible, its own interpretation of the leading passages; and tradition plays an important part in the Protestant as well as in the Roman Church. The text being accepted, each party makes its own version of it, and widely different senses are extracted from the same words. Hence it happens that important passages of Scripture have certain ideas associated with them in the popular mind, which, if they are erroneous, are not to be corrected by a simple announcement, on competent critical authority, of the true rendering of the text. The author of this little volume believes that there are some very popular but very detrimental misapprehensions, not of the true reading only, but of the true bearing of many important passages; and he offers this slight contribution towards a true understanding of them in the earnest hope that it may stimulate some so to search the Scriptures as to find in them not the confirmation of cherished dogmas, far less stones for the slings of theological war, but the Word of Eternal Life. J. BALDWIN BROWN. CLAPHAM, _New Year's Day_, 1869. Misread Passages of Scripture. I. THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. "My kingdom is not of this world."--JOHN xviii. 36. Perhaps there is no passage of Scripture more constantly misunderstood than these simple words; and certainly there is no misunderstanding of Scripture which has exercised a more detrimental influence on the life and development of the church. The whole passage contains the very marrow of the doctrine of Christ concerning His kingdom. It is the basis of its constitution. To this, its subjects have rightly looked in all ages for instruction as to its fundamental spirit, principles, and aims. Words more solemn, more pregnant, were never spoken in this world, in this universe, than these. They were spoken at the very crisis of universal destinies. They form the dividing line between the two eternities. From eternity all things had been working towards that hour--the consummation of the incarnation; and to eternity the influence of that hour would go forth, remoulding, regenerating all the worlds. Beyond any words that have ever been spoken, these words are worthy of intense and reverent attention. They are the words with which the Son of God passed on to the cross, that He might pass up to the throne. The two kings stood there in presence. The representative of the king of this world, who wielded all its force and guided all its movements, the man who had but to nod and the whole civilized world trembled and obeyed; and a King, the elements of whose kingship few could discern, who wielded a strange power and produced a deep impression that He had a right to rule over men, but who wore no signs of royalty and laid no claim to the possession of this world's thrones. Nay, a kingdom had been forced on Him, and He escaped as from a deadly danger from the homage of His subjects, while He spake to them such searching spiritual words that they conceived a great dread of His kingly commands and claims. He bade them begin to rule themselves when they were dreaming of a splendid rule over the gentiles; and He turned inwards on the inner obliquity, foulness, and deformity, those eyes which were watching eagerly for the signs of an approaching advent of a glorious, celestial imperator to the world. Jesus looked on Pilate's kingship, and fathomed it perfectly. He knew from whence the power sprang, and by what springs it was fed, which seated Pilate's master on the world's imperial throne. Pilate found the royalty of Jesus unfathomable; none of his worldly experiences helped him to understand it. Art Thou a king then, poor, worn, tear-stained Outcast, forsaken of every subject, of every friend, in the hour of Thy bitter need? And yet the nascent smile of scorn was checked by something which cast a spell even on that worn-out profligate's heart. That lonely wasted Man there had that about Him which made the representative of the world's master afraid. It seemed mere idle talk to a man like Pilate: "a kingdom not of this world;" "witnessing to truth;" "disciples of the truth:" it was all childish to the trained intellect of this experienced ruler; and yet there seemed to be some power beyond the grasp of his intellect, which something within him recognised, and which might create and rule a kingdom after a fashion which till then had never even crossed his dreams. But to him the mystery remained insoluble. He wrote a title to which his instinct gave a reality that his intellect denied, "JESUS OF NAZARETH, KING OF THE JEWS." And here in this passage we have the Lord's own declaration of the constitution and aims of His kingdom; the kingdom which, from that hour, has been the ruling element in the history of this world, and, as we learn from the Apocalypse, of all the worlds of the great universe of God. And men persistently misread it as they misread Him, and employ His words as they employed His works, to frustrate the purpose for which He entered into the world. Let us see how the misunderstanding of these words arose. "My kingdom is not of this world:" literally "not from," originally "out of" this world. A clear understanding of the full force of this will give us the clue to the interpretation of our Lord's words. There is an old sense of the preposition "of," which closely corresponds with the full sense of the word employed in the Greek, expressing "out of," "springing from." But "of," like other words and other things, in the course of time has got weakened by the wear and tear of life; and the sense "belonging to," "connected with," is its natural suggestion to modern ears; whereby the sense of our Lord's words has been grievously weakened too. Did the Lord mean to say, "My kingdom has nothing to do with the institutions and arrangements of the worldly life of men: you need not fear any rivalry, delegate of Caesar; My kingdom is in a quite different sphere, and will keep there, without touching yours: it only has to do with men as spiritual beings, with a view to their final destiny in the eternal state: keep to your secular province, and we shall never cross or clash: the two spheres are quite separate, and nothing but mischief can come of their commerce: I leave you to rule; leave Me to teach, unfettered by conditions; for I aim at no influence on earth, My one object is to persuade men to live a life separate from this world, as much detached as possible from its interests and pursuits, that they may enter into My heavenly kingdom when death releases them, and where the sphere will be all My own"? Was this His meaning? or did He mean to say, "My kingdom is not out of this world; it comes down into this world from on high: this world is, like man, made of the dust of the earth, 'of the earth, earthy,' except some spirit breathe into it from the higher world--then it lives: My kingdom comes to the kingdoms of this world, the interests, aims, pursuits, and common life of men, like this breath of Divine inspiration: without it they all languish and must perish; with it they live: it is a descent of heavenly truth, heavenly love, heavenly life, into the sphere of the earthly, to make it live anew; the earth languishes for My kingdom, for without Me it dies: leave Me free to fulfil My mission, not because this world is nothing to Me, and My kingdom will not trouble itself with its affairs, but because My truth, My life, My love are needful to the life of this world as vital air to the body; because all business, all domestic life, all friendship, all society, all government, all thought, all art, all learning are waiting, are panting, for the living baptism which I bring. I am not of the world, My kingdom is not of the world, in the springs of its influence; it is essentially of heaven, and from heaven: but it seeks the world as the sphere of its influence, the field of its conquest, the realm of its rule. With yearning desire, eagerly as man yearns for fellowship, a friend for the brother of his spirit, the bridegroom for the bride, I seek and claim this world as My own"? Here are the two ideas of the meaning of these words of our Lord set fairly against each other. The number of those who would deliberately adopt and justify the former is happily growing less year by year. Were we caring only for formal misunderstandings of important passages of Scripture in these discourses, it would be hardly worth while to discuss seriously a perversion which is vanishing with the changed aspects of the times. But the spirit, the savour, of an error continues long to work after it has been formally exploded; and we discuss this passage in this present discourse under the strong conviction that the false view which we have described above continues to tincture very deeply our theology, our preaching, and our social ideas and habits, even in those who would utterly repudiate the formal idea of the Lord's kingdom on which it rests. Some of the results of this misconception of the true nature of the kingdom have been as follow:-- 1. The idea has been widely entertained that the aim of the Lord has been, not to save the world, but to save a chosen few out of the world, leaving calmly the great mass to go to wreck. The favourite notion has been that the Lord's disciples have been in all ages, and still will be, an isolated band, like Israel in Egypt; hating the world around them, hated by it, and waiting only the happy opportunity, the hour of deliverance, to pass out of it triumphant, and leave it to perish by the strokes of the Lord's avenging hand. This idea, that the Church is a little band of chosen ones in the midst of a hostile and reprobate world, is a very favourite one with the disciples in all ages; and it is nourished by the tone in which the apostles wrote and spoke to the few poor men and women who were to begin the work of restoration, and who needed to be upborne against tremendous pressure by the assurance of the special and personal intervention of the God of heaven on behalf of the little company whom He loved. They needed a strong support against a world which was bent on destroying them as it had destroyed their Lord; and so the apostle wrote, "But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people, that ye should show forth the praises of Him who hath called you out of darkness into His marvellous light. Which in time past were not a people, but are now the people of God; which had not obtained mercy, but now have obtained mercy." "Fear not, little flock; it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." That the disciples have been the few in all ages is alas only too palpable to those whose sight pierces no farther than Elijah's, and who cannot fathom the secret things which are unveiled to the eye of God. But it is a dark heresy to believe that the Lord meant that His own should be the few in all ages, and that the rescue of an election from the impending ruin can satisfy the heart of Him who cried, as the hour of His anguish drew nigh, "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me." 2. Closely associated with this is the notion that all which belongs to the earthly life of men has a certain taint of evil upon it, is corrupt and corrupting in its very nature; so that if a disciple touches it he must touch it like pitch, cautiously, and expect contamination with all his care. That if he must enter into the world's activities, buy, sell, and get gain, marry and give in marriage, rule households and take part in the government of states, he must do it under protest and under the spur of a sharp necessity, and is bound to long anxiously for the time when the need of all this will be over, and he will be free to meditate on Divine things and to praise through eternity. If Christ's kingdom be not of this world, he argues, then all which is of this world, politics, literature, art, society, trade cannot be of Christ's kingdom; and His subjects, hampered by these evil cares for a time, must be ever looking forward eagerly to the day when they will be freed from them for ever. And this is the meaning which is constantly veiled under the phrase, "the coming of the Lord Jesus," and expressed in the prayer, "Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly." 3. Then further there is the notion that it is only in a very partial sense that we can talk of Christ's kingdom here, that it belongs essentially to the future and eternal state, and can only be fully comprehended by him who can separate it in thought from all the blemishes and accidents of time, and behold it, pure from the defilement and degradation of the earthly (that is the human) in this world, in its glorious Divine form in eternity. And surely there is a great truth here. The perfect image of it, as Plato said of the polity of which he dreamed, abides only in the heavens; and we need to refresh both courage and hope, when we see the blots and fractures of the kingdom here, by contemplating the pure form of it which abides in the heavens with God. But dreams and contemplations will never bring it down from the heavens; it is here, or nowhere. It is this earthly image which is to be translated into that heavenly likeness; and if we would be near to and like the King, we must follow Him into the very heart of the world's business and throngs, not that we may seek His chosen there and rescue them from the world, but that we may rescue the world from all that makes it other than Christ's kingdom, by driving out of it "everything that defileth, or worketh abomination, or maketh a lie," and thus purify its atmosphere, cleanse the ducts and channels of its life, invigorate its energy, and consecrate its activity, till it grows like its ideal in heaven. And what has been the history of the kingdom? Since the first hour of its establishment, perpetual intervention in an action upon the worldly affairs of men. It is literally true that Dean Milman's history of Latin Christianity is the completest history of the Western European world during the middle ages, extant in our language. And why? Because during the middle ages, and until now, the Church has been the backbone of human society. All man's dearest interests and hopes have gathered around the kingdom; over its destinies, and under its banners, all man's deadliest battles have been fought. "Yes!" it may be answered; "but this is just the corruption of the kingdom; because it mixed itself with worldly affairs, and suffered worldly men to administer it, it became the centre and pivot of all the movements of human society." But this state of things was at any rate the confession that the men of this world could not get on without the kingdom, that when it was once revealed it inevitably tended to gather around itself all the vital activity of the world. Since Christ appeared, men have felt everywhere that they must place themselves and their concerns in some kind of vital relation to the Church. And this has been the key to the public life of Christendom; in fact it has made Christendom in opposition to heathendom, as the province of all the most cultivated and progressive races of mankind. The forms of relation which men created were no doubt worldly enough; but the sense that they needed the relation, and must find it to live out a true man's life was not worldly, but true, noble, and Divine. The Church from the very hour of the ascension of its Head, began to act on human society as incomparably the most powerful influence extant in the world. It literally re-made society from the very foundations. Far from contenting itself with mastering the will of individual subjects, and wooing them away from the pursuits and interests of the world around them, it entered the homes of men, and cast out the harpy passions which had befouled them; it gave marriage new sacredness, parents new authority and new responsibility, and children new grounds of obedience to their sires. It entered the market and established just weights and balances, honest word, and loyal trust. Theft could be no virtue, and lying no graceful accomplishment, where it established its reign. It entered states, and changed tyrants into kings, serfs into subjects, slaves into freemen, nobles into guardians, pastors, and captains of industry to the poor. That very Rome which doomed the King to a malefactor's death, it entered as a conqueror, and it broke that proud empire to fragments. The time came when Rome could live no longer in the moral atmosphere which it created; and then it summoned purer, nobler, hardier races to occupy the homes and to till the fields which Rome had depopulated and destroyed. It introduced its laws into every code in Christendom. King Alfred begins his statute book by reciting the laws of the kingdom of God.[A] In truth it has penetrated and permeated every vein and fibre of human society, and it has made it all anew. There is literally nothing with which you in this nineteenth century can concern yourself,--trade, literature, politics, science, art, government, social and domestic life, human rights, human duties, human powers, human fears, aspirations, hopes and joys,--there is not one element of our complex social and political life which is not what it is, because eighteen centuries ago the Lord Jesus witnessed this good confession before Pilate "Thou sayest that which I am, a king." From the world it has asked nothing, taken nothing, but its reverence and love: of the world in that sense it has never been. But in the world, and through the world, the stream of its heavenly virtue and life has wandered, and the wilderness and the solitary place have been made glad by it, and the desert has rejoiced and blossomed as the rose. It has sought studiously to mix itself up with all the relations and interests of mankind; it has a word about them all, it has a law for them all; the weight in the pedlar's bag, the sceptre of the monarch on the throne, are alike under its rule and cognisance, for it claims man as man to be its subject. It says that man was made to be the subject of this kingdom, and all man's life is the true domain of its sway. It looks upon this worldly life of ours--our life as men of this world--as the most solemn, most sacred thing in this universe; God's school of culture of the beings who are to fill His heavenly kingdom through eternity. It cannot spare one relation of men, one art, one industry, one field of activity, one interest, one joy, one hope, one love, from its domain of empire. The whole man, the whole world, in the wholeness of its life, it claims absolutely; and it aims to present the whole man and his whole life, body, soul, and spirit, perfect before the presence of His glory at last. "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service." And now let me ask your attention to some principles which are suggested by a true understanding of this statement of our Lord. 1. His kingdom is not _of_ this world. It is from above, and all the springs of its power are above. The attempt to help it from beneath, to bring the strength, the riches, the honour of this world to help the Spirit who is from above in the work of the kingdom, cripples its energies, frustrates its aims, and exhausts its life. Its one power is the power of truth; "to this end was I born, for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth," said its Founder and King. It has absolutely no other power. "Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice;" and all the efforts of men to force, tempt, or bribe mankind to support it, but silence that witness, which is all that it asks to win the world to itself. One can understand the argument of those who support a state establishment of religion and the whole apparatus by which men seek to win for it the supremacy to which it rightfully aspires. They say, "It is of God, it is the heavenly truth, it is worthy of all that men can give to it and of all the power which man can bring to bear on the accomplishment of its work: the state does itself honour, and gives itself stability by supporting it; monarchs are never so royal as in lending to it their influence; all the world's riches are never so precious as when they are poured into its treasuries, and are employed in the promotion of its ends." And this is no more than the simple truth. The kingdom is worthy to receive the tribute of all the monarchs, the nobles, the wise ones, the rich ones of the world: the more it has of the good-will and help of every man, from the king to the beggar, the better for the kingdom, the better for mankind. All that we say is, Let it win them. Let it win in its own way, by putting forth its own power, the nursing care of the noble, the rich, and the wise. Leave it to employ its own spiritual force to do this and all at which it aims. Lend your heart to it, your hand, your tongue, your pen, your purse, and everything else which it can command and use to win its way to human hearts. But if you bring your human authority to bear to win from your subjects and dependants an outward homage, if you endow it with dead gifts administered by the scribes and lawyers of this world, if you lend worldly pomp and power to those who claim to be its ministers, you oppress and stifle it, and destroy its power of progress in the world. It wants free air, the free air of willing obedience, loyalty, and love. Rob it of that, it dies. It is not of this world. Every gift that is wrung for it from an unwilling hand beggars it. Its riches are the gifts of free will. Mere gold, with no spirit of loving loyalty in the giver, is worse than dross to it; it cankers and eats into its life. The power which has troops of soldiers and legal tribunals behind it blights it by its very breath. All that it asks is freedom; power to do what Christ did, in the way in which He did it; power to bear witness to the truth, and weaken the long silent echoes of truth in human hearts. We have cut off its heavenly connection, and rooted it in the powers and policies of this world; and now we wonder that it languishes, and that one half the people in a Christian kingdom believe nothing of its truth and care nothing for its King. Oh! for the days of apostolic trust and simplicity, when the disciples, "continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, did eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God and having favour with all the people." Oh! for the baptism of Pentecostal fire from on high. Oh! for one of the days of the Son of Man, whom the Father sent into the world, armed with no authority but that of truth, clothed with no power but that of love. How eagerly then, eager as the thirsty earth when the sound of rain is in the sky, would men drink in the words of Him who had more faith in the power of truth to conquer hearts than in the arms of twelve legions of angels, and whose supreme trust was in the all-mastering force of a love stronger than death--a love that laid down its life that death might not for ever tyrannise over the world. 2. Make your life, your man's life in its wholeness the domain of its empire in you. Beware of a double allegiance. How earnestly and emphatically the Lord denounces it: "Ye cannot serve God and Mammon." Beware of yielding to Christ a part of the empire which is all His own. Beware of that fatal distinction between the man as a Christian, and the man as a citizen, the man as a man of business, which has grown out of the misunderstanding of the principle laid down by our Lord. Christian saint, Christian worshipper, Christian citizen, Christian merchant, Christian parent, be Christian wholly. Refuse to touch a thing in any department of your activity, which will not square with your Christian ideas and aims. Let your daily transactions be as freely open to Christ's inspection as to the world's honourable judgment: let it be the aim of your life at home, abroad, in the shop, the exchange, the forum, to show what the laws of Christ's kingdom can make of a life which is square with their precepts. Adorn the doctrine of God your Saviour, not by fellowship with His people only, but by winning men to worship Him by the spectacle of your diligence, your industry, your purity, your truth, your charity, gentleness, patience, faith, and hope in God; and when they learn that these are the King's gifts to you, at once the signs and the fruits of His reign, they will, like the people of old, break forth into thanksgiving, and confess joyfully that God is with you of a truth. 3. Count it your chief work on earth to be His fellow-helper in His kingdom; help to win for Him the empire of the world. His kingdom is not of this world. But it is over this world, and it claims this world as its own. The Lord has a heart so large that only the world can fill it. He uttered its whole longing as He entered the cloud of the last agony:--"And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me." Bear witness in the world that the one thing needful to it is Christ. Tell statecraft that it needs the laws of the kingdom, to regulate its methods and to indicate its ends. Tell monarchs that they need to observe _the_ Monarch, that their rule may be a benediction to loyal subjects instead of a curse to cringing slaves. Tell citizens that they need to become citizens of this kingdom, that the commonwealth on earth may be the image and the vestibule of the commonwealth of the skies. Tell classes that they need the instructions of this Master, that society may be less a den of selfish contentions, and more a field of gracious ministries and ennobling toils. Tell commerce that she needs the inspiration of this duty, that the dull, the common, the base may be transfigured and wear the forms of beauty, nobleness, and truth. Tell life that it needs the quickening of this spirit, that it may not drop piecemeal through the corruptions of sin into the darkness and rottenness of the pit. Above all, tell every soul that hears you, that it needs Christ, the living Bread; the bread of Christ's truth, the bread of Christ's life, the bread of Christ's love, that it may not settle into the darkness of death for ever, but "have everlasting life," where Christ lives and reigns at God's right hand eternally. FOOTNOTE: [A] King Alfred's "new book of laws" opens with the sentence, "And the Lord spake all these words and said, I am the Lord thy God," etc. Then follows the decalogue; and then, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, that do ye also unto them." Besides, there are many passages quoted from the word of God, with most wise reflections on them and applications of them to the matter in hand; and then he proceeds to the laws of the realm. II. THE DUES OF C�SAR AND OF CHRIST. "Render therefore unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's; and unto God the things that are God's."--MATT. xxii. 21. What things are Cæsar's? Clearly the things which bear his image and superscription; the things on which he has the right and the power to imprint his mark. What things are God's? Clearly those things which bear His immediate mark and superscription, which belong to the diviner part in man, which are in man by the breath of the Divine inspiration, and which God claims, and therefore has the right to claim directly and exclusively for Himself. The Lord will not stand between Cæsar and that which bears his image; let not Cæsar dare to stand between God and that in man which bears His image, and which He claims to rule directly by His word and by His Spirit indwelling in human hearts. This text is constantly quoted to justify the refusal to pay to Cæsar the tax, be it church-rate or anything else, which he may demand for the support of a spiritual system, which we may not believe to be in accordance with the Divine will. I confess that the teaching of our Lord in these words seems to me to point in precisely the opposite direction. The argument which one often hears is to this effect: Cæsar is intruding into God's province when he demands anything from us for spiritual uses; this is a department with which he has nothing whatever to do, and we are giving him that which is God's if we yield to his claims. God alone has the right to claim anything at our hand for spiritual uses; and we are wronging Him, we are robbing the Lord of what political theologians call His "crown rights," if we give unto Cæsar one farthing for the maintenance of any Church system or systems, or any spiritual operations of any sort, since these are of the things which belong to God alone. The argument of our Lord in these verses points surely the other way. With Him the test of the demand is not the purpose, but the thing demanded. If what is asked has Cæsar's image on it, enough; let him have it; the responsibility of using it rests with him. If Cæsar asks that which has not his image upon it, which he cannot compel before his tribunals or distrain by his officers, such as your judgment, your conscience, and the support of your voice and your hand, obey God rather than man. If you yield to Cæsar, yield because you see that it is right in God's sight, that it is a duty to God to yield to him; if you refuse, refuse because to yield would be wrong in God's sight, and then be prepared to sustain your refusal even unto death. Do not misunderstand the difficulty of the Jewish rulers, which was a very real one. It was a case of conscience with them. They did not care about the amount of the tribute, that was a small matter; but Cæsar was a Gentile, idolatrous prince. Idolatry was the state religion of the Roman empire. It was a bitter thought to the Jew that an idolater, one capable of setting up his own image in the holy of holies, should rule over him and exact his tribute. Was it not a betrayal of duty to God to consent to it? Was it not right to suffer any extremities rather than yield to the imperial claims? There was a party among the Jews who felt so grievously the degradation and the burden on their consciences, that they were in a chronic state of rebellion against Rome. They were always seeking to foment the differences between their own and the Roman government; and they were prepared to stake their own lives and the life of the nation on their fealty, as they understood fealty, to God alone. It was one of the questions most eagerly debated among them, which they asked the Saviour to solve. A case of conscience,--conscience grieved by being compelled to support a system of government other than that which they believed had been ordained to them of God. Our Lord's solution is most original and striking; and it offers the clearest guidance to us through the multitude of kindred perplexities which cannot fail to arise by reason of the ever varying relations of the secular and spiritual powers in every age of the world. (Matt. xxii. 15-22.) The image on the tribute money settled the matter. This is _primâ facie_ evidence that Cæsar has a right to claim it. The power of putting an image on the money marks it as a thing between you and Cæsar. You accept it and use it in daily life, at Cæsar's hand. That image on the penny, the right of coining money being represented by it, is the symbol of all the order and benediction which flow to you from Cæsar's rule; and Cæsar's right to exact it back again is distinctly a question between you and the earthly monarch, into which you have no right to drag, for the purpose of protest, the name of God. Cæsar is ordained of God to take visible charge of this department, the order of civil society; and he and you must settle between you the fair adjustment of his claims. A piece of money bearing Cæsar's image is no battleground for the rights of God. Pay whatever Cæsar asks for his purposes, no matter what they may be, so long as by using Cæsar's mintage you give the stamp of your acquiescence to his rule; and if his purposes seem to you to be wrong, fight him with nobler things than pennies--with voice and pen, the free utterance of opinion, and, if needs must be, in the last extremity, with swords. If Cæsar asks your homage to his idol, the bending of your knee, or the acclamation of your voice, the answer is clear,--Thy image and superscription are not here; my knee is for my God, my voice is for my God; and all the powers of the universe cannot bend the one or awaken the other without my will. Here I follow the Divine precedent: "Nebuchadnezzar spake," etc. (Dan. iii. 14-18.) But if Cæsar asks my pennies for any purpose which he comprehends within the aim of his government, let him have them; they clearly belong to his sphere. I scorn to hold back what his force can wring from me the next moment; they are his, the responsibility of taking them is his, and the responsibility of using them is his. If I am not satisfied with his use of them, I have nobler means of protest and influence; or, in the last extremity, I can go forth from his empire and have done with him and his pennies for ever. This is the principle on which it seems to me right to act in church-rate matters. Suppose that one were living in a neighbourhood in which the church of the district had been built under a special act of parliament, to be paid for by a rate levied on the householders during a term of years. It would be our duty to pay year after year our share of the tax which parliament imposed. The money asked for has Cæsar's image and superscription on it: by using it we consent to Cæsar's sway. We have no right to pick and choose which claims of a government we will honour, and which we will refuse. We get the good of the government as a whole, and we pay its claims as a whole, always endeavouring by moral means to secure that the adjustment shall be righteous and fair. And so it may become a clear duty to pay for the building of a church which we never enter, and whose minister regards our ministry as an unauthorized and mischievous intrusion on his sacred domain. If the Church, by Cæsar's ministry, will have our tribute money, we say, Take it; and if the demand be very harsh or peremptory, we say, Take it, in very scorn. But God forbid that we should ever consent to belong to a Church which can condescend to take tribute by force of the unwilling, and which gives the adversary thereby such strong temptation to blaspheme. Such seems to me to be the bearing of this principle on this and kindred questions. It seems to me distinctly to enjoin on us the course which it is constantly quoted as denouncing. The money Cæsar needs, for the carrying on of his government in the best way he can, is the first charge on the property which the order of civil society suffers us to possess and enjoy. God claims none till Cæsar is satisfied; for Cæsar's claim is His ordinance. Having satisfied Cæsar, take counsel with him about the rest. But these reflections open up many, some of them perplexing, questions, on which this seems to me a good opportunity to offer some brief remark. 1. Does not Christ in this place seem to recognise some divided allegiance--man under two masters, owing duty to Cæsar, owing duty to God? Will he not be puzzled perpetually to determine their limits, and to settle what is secular and what is sacred? and is there not something repugnant to the very essence of Christianity in the idea that man at any moment, in any relation, can have to do with another being than God? Is not God the sole Lord of his being and of his life? What can be Cæsar's, in contradistinction to that which is God's? I think I have learnt from the Scripture, and I am always preaching the doctrine, that God claims the man in his wholeness; that body, soul, and spirit, riches, knowledge, power, and love, all belong to Him; that there is but one empire, one service, one King; that life is simple, simple as the infinite God. "_Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and soul, and mind, and strength_," "_and Him only shalt thou serve_." "_This do, and thou shalt live._" What claim can Cæsar have on man then, which is not also God's claim? What tribute can one pay to Cæsar, which is not also paid to God? None, absolutely none. The Lord recognises no divided allegiance; His words rightly understood are in perfect harmony with the doctrine of His own sole and supreme lordship over every thought, every passion, and every possession of man. "_Render unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's._" Why? Who ordains it? Who has the right to demand it? God. Within the sphere of Cæsar's government, obey him, not because Cæsar can force you, but because God will have you; make it a part of your Divine obedience, to obey wisely and loyally as a subject and a citizen; and consider that Cæsar claims your service within the sphere which belongs to him, as the ordained minister and representative of God. There is no secular and sacred since Christ appeared. It is all sacred. Civil obedience is an ordinance of the Church. The Scripture bears most explicit witness to these principles wherever it touches on the relations of civil society and its institutions. (1 Pet. ii. 13-17; Rom. xiii. 1-7; 1 Tim. ii. 1-4.) It is God's institution. He sustains it; He, through the ruler, claims your tribute; the result, the order and progress of society, is His work. Innocent III. was right, though in a sense of which he little dreamed. The moon has its own relation to the earth; but they have a common relation to the sun. The moon's orbit is included in the earth's orbit; but the sun sways and balances both of them, and there is not a movement of the moon in obeying the inferior earthly attraction which is not also an act of obedience to the superior sphere. So God has set us under rulers, in societies, as a kind of interior province of His kingdom; but our loyalty as subjects, our duty as citizens, are alike part of the one duty which we owe to God. There is no schism in the body of our service, no double authority in our Lord's realm. The two worlds, the two services, the two spheres, are one in Christ. "_One is your Master, even Christ._" "_Thou shalt worship Him, and Him, only shalt thou serve._" 2. It is needful to inquire how far this principle of obedience is to carry us. If the money has Cæsar's image and superscription, let him have it; he has a right to it, and in recognising that right we are fulfilling so far our duty to God. Here is a clear and simple principle: but is it a sufficient guidance? does it provide for all the possible exigencies of social and political life? How about the right of resisting Cæsar, when he rules unrighteously? How about John Hampden's refusal of the ship-money, and the grand and glorious struggle which it inaugurated, by which our liberties were won? This is a very grave and important question, and one which, having voluntarily selected such a subject as this, we have no right to pass by. There is a Divine precedent here. (1 Kings xii. 12-24.) What is it which is ordained of God in government? Not any particular king, nor any particular form or institution, but the good of men in the order of civil society. This it is at which God aims, and to this end kings and institutions are His ministers. The king or institution which may best assure this end is the open question in the settlement of which God demands the concert and co-operation of mankind. Every king, every magistrate, every political institution, has a certain Divine sanction, inasmuch as it is the keystone of the arch which He has built, and under whose sheltering dome we live and work. But a keystone which, instead of securing the arch, threatens its stability, has no Divine sanction longer than for the time during which it can be successfully replaced or repaired. The Divine shield is cast, not around the particular king, but around the society and the civilization of which he is the head. It is only in the unity of the society that the Lord's sanction upholds him; let him mar that unity or distract it, and God passes to the side of those who are seeking to set up a new and real keystone in his room. There is nothing like the duty of passive obedience to tyrants implied in the text, or enjoined in the word of God. "_Render unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's_," while Cæsar is the recognised lord. In those crises of history in which Cæsar has to be weighed in the balance, in which the question has to be tried, Who is king and by what rule shall he reign? godly men have to keep clear before the mind's eye what God means by human society, what He aims at, and to help Him, yes, help Him to secure it. If no Cæsar be worth recognising, or Cæsar be altogether too bad to be borne, then refuse his tribute, resist his myrmidons, draw the sword of the Lord and of Gideon to strike for deliverance. The Lord is the Cæsar of such an hour; the Captain of the Lord's host, His sword drawn in His hand as at Jericho, is in these times of revolution busy among men. They best honour Cæsar and serve Christ in such hours, who have the clearest eye for the good of the commonwealth, and who prepare the way for the reign of a Cæsar who, like David, shall rule according to the will of God. The sacred sense of the obligations of a subject or a citizen which those cherish, who have learnt from Christ "by whom kings reign and princes decree judgment," and who know that obedience to the powers that he is a form of obedience to God, makes them patient, beyond the measure of mere political patience, of the weaknesses, follies, and sins of the men who occupy the world's high places; while it makes them stern and firm as death when God has pronounced the sentence of deposition, and has bared the avenging sword and committed it to their hands. These are the men who, like Cromwell, do their work with a terrible force and completeness, and who read lessons in God's name to Cæsars, which remain doctrinal through all time. 3. Surely our Saviour intends us to understand how little money, or anything with Cæsar's image and superscription upon it, can do to make or to mar the fortunes of God's kingdom, which spreads and rules like the dawn, like the moisture in the south wind, like the blush of spring, like the splendour of summer, like everything that is quickened by the breath of God. Tribute! We are always perplexing ourselves about tribute--a steady stream of regular contributions, a flood-tide of golden gifts. It is our measure of power. Quite other is Christ's. His power flashes like lightning from one part under heaven, and shineth to the other part which is under heaven. The world flashes into light, glows into life in a moment, when the times of refreshing, of quickening, come down from God. Men catch it from each other's eyes, each other's lips. It spreads as flame, and gathers strength as it widens its circuit. Money, social and political influence, the force of this world, all that seems solid and potent to men while they are enacting the masque of life which we call living, faint back like rushlights in the lightning's flash, like aged institutions in the hour of revolution, when the breath of the Spirit as at Pentecost is falling on the world. I speak, and I am quite sure the sacred writers spoke, in no scorn of money. No _thing_ is base: we keep our hate, our scorn, for base spirits, not for things. But for money Paul must have starved, and the kingdom must have perished in its birth. What the Lord means us to understand is that money is the inevitable satellite of higher things. Spirits in earnest movement sweep it with them in their course, as the earth sweeps its atmosphere. Give us hearts of fire, fire that kindles and flashes from heart to heart, from peak to peak of the human; and what work will wait long for gold? Men who in common levels of interest dole out their tens and hundreds, and feel some dull glow of satisfaction stirring the stagnation of their hearts, scatter forth their thousands when God fires their spirits, and their whole being is alive and thrills with joy. Money! nothing greatly spiritual was ever made by money, or was ever marred by money in this world. There is a touch of scorn in the Saviour's words, "_Shew me the tribute money_." Scorn of the vain worldly mind that was perplexing itself about tribute, while the love of God and the belief in judgment were fast dying out of human hearts. One sacred conviction in their hearts would have answered the question, and lifted them above the sphere of tribute--as Paul was lifted--into the region of that kingdom which would sweep Cæsar's as a satellite in its sphere. Did the Lord foresee sadly the scene from which a few dark days divided them, when they would yield to Cæsar--these men, who were groaning and haggling over the tribute--absolutely everything that was God's? (John xix. 7-16). The leader of the band who turned the world upside down witnessed this confession, "_Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee: in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk_." They were poor as beggars, but richer in power to draw forth the treasures of this world than kings. What king's command could have wrought this miracle? "_And the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and of one soul: neither said any of them that ought of the things which he possessed was his own; but they had all things common._" (Acts iv. 32.) In truth, this love of Christ is the universal solvent. Nothing remains any man's own when once the heart is touched by this Divine fire. It melts all selfish separations and appropriations, as sun warmth the bonds of winter, and quickens in the universal human heart the glow and circulation of the spring. Nothing starves in summer for want of the bread that perishes; supplies lie thick everywhere around. And no Divine work stays for lack of the gold that perishes, when once the sun of the Divine love has loosed men's hearts from the winter of their isolation and selfish grasping care. Don't worry about the tribute. "_Trust in the Lord, and do good_," and things will right themselves at once. Tribute will pour into the treasury, and even the exactors shall become ministers and yield their willing aid. "_Thine officers shall become peace, and thine exactors righteousness._" "_Kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and queens thy nursing mothers._" "_Violence shall be no more heard in thy land, wasting nor destruction within thy borders_," if the King is in thy palaces; if thy heart, soul, and hand are loyally devoted to Christ. I often think, in these days of grand Christian institutions, with their vast fixed incomes and endowments, and all the magnificent apparatus without which it seems to us the Lord's kingdom must perish out of this land and out of the world, of the little company who trudged wearily about the highways of Palestine, seeking their morning meal from the fig-tree by the wayside, and lodging wherever a poor cottager's faith and love gave them shelter for a night, and who,--beggars as to the things which were Cæsar's, but filled as never men were filled before or since with the things which were God's, faith, hope, joy, truth, wisdom, and Divine charity--went forth in this their might and re-made society: the grandest revolution in the history of this universe, accomplished by its beggars and, as the world thought, its fools. And the fact repeats itself in every revolution. Let a man in any age go forth with the fire of God in him; and the force he wields, the mastery he wins, the new life he quickens in a nation, in a world, pours silent contempt on gold. The gold is gathered, as spirit gathers flesh about it and becomes incarnate; so all that belongs to Cæsar's sphere is at the commandment of that which comes straight from God's and glows with the inspiration of His life. Gifts of a splendid lavishness in such seasons are abundant; and strangely enough the givers feel enriched unspeakably by the joy of giving, enlarged immeasurably by impoverishment, and increased by abnegation. The richest in such seasons are those who give most, not those who have most. A wonderful sense of the glorious wealth of a heart which has a guest-chamber for Christ, and whose pulses beat joyously as the free tide of the Divine love flows through and over it on all around, kindles men's souls to a new conception of riches. It fills the beatitudes with a wonderful meaning, and shows the sorrows and straits of poverty overflowed by the riches and joys of God. III. "UNTO THIS LAST." "I will give unto this last, even as unto thee."--MATT. xx. 14. These words appear at first sight to set us very decisively face to face with the sovereignty of God, in its sternest and most naked form--affirming its right to distribute its gifts and payments at its pleasure, and refusing to consider the question of equity when urged by the creature's sharp complaint. "Take that thine is, and go thy way." "Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own?" "I will give unto this last, even as unto thee." There, it is said, and with apparent truth, is Sovereignty--pure, naked Sovereignty. The "I will" of God seems to be the sole explanation which is vouchsafed of His dispensations and decrees. But this view of the matter has always seemed to me deeply unsatisfactory. Equity is a strong instinctive principle, which God Himself has established in the judgment seat of the human conscience; and God never beats down with the bare assertion of an irresistible Sovereignty the soul that is perplexed about the equity of His ways. It is equity, pure, celestial equity, which reveals itself to those who will search for it in this parable; equity to the poor souls who had been standing all the day idle in the market-place, because no man had called them to the vineyard; equity to the labourers who had borne the burden and heat of the day, and had made the dignity and culture of the Lord's husbandmen their own. It is an equity which invites the closest criticism from those who will search it thoroughly, and which reveals to the searchers deep vital truths about man and about God. "I will give unto this last, even as unto thee." It is a startling sentence. This man had been labouring in the vineyard under the burning heat, through the blazing noon; he had borne and bent under the whole burden of the work: while this one had been brought in at the eleventh hour, in the cool evenfall, and by a few minutes of light sweet labour he had won the equivalent prize. There is something startling here, and men have felt it; and they have striven in manifold and curious ways to square the method of the Master with their fundamental notions of the righteousness of God. There are theologians who feel no need to square it. According to a theology which has exercised a wide-spread and malign influence in the past, Sovereignty answers amply every difficulty, and treats our ideas of equity as a high impertinence, when they claim to weigh the ways of God. If it pleases God to make some men to be saved and other men to be damned, who shall question His rights? and if He is glorified equally by the salvation of the chosen and the damnation of the reprobate, who dares complain, or to what court can we carry the appeal? There are theologians who would have us rest calmly on the conviction that a sovereign and inscrutable will is ruling, and trouble ourselves in no wise about the equity of the decrees. But one cannot but reflect that this composed contentment with the doctrine of reprobation is mainly conspicuous in those who feel themselves safe from its trenchant stroke. With the exception of Lord Byron--to whose malign and scornful tone we believe that this was the real key--we hardly discover the disciples of the doctrine among those who believe that they are reprobate; and in the case of the theological school whose influence is happily dying away, but which survives in out-of-the-way places to an extent little dreamed of still, we may fairly entertain the question, whether, if it were flashed suddenly on their souls that they, the theologians, were doomed by the Divine decree to everlasting anguish, their rest in the inscrutable Sovereignty would be so calm, and their contentment so assured. For thinkers of this school, of course, such a parable as this presents no sort of difficulty. A penny more or less would not be likely to stagger them, when the gift of heaven or the doom of hell raise no question as to the equity of the Divine decrees. But with the great multitude of Christian thinkers the parable has been the source of much grievous perplexity, as the manifold explanations amply prove. The question is, in which verse of the parable are we to find the key to it? "Unto this last will I give, even as unto thee," states the problem. Is the solution to be found in the body of the parable, or must we seek it outside in a general study of the ways of God? There can be no question, I think, that the broad bearing of the parable is on the impending revolution in the visible Divine kingdom, whereby, as the Saviour says, the kingdom of God was to be taken from the Pharisees, and "given to a people bringing forth the fruits thereof." I say advisedly, from the Pharisees; from the party which held the chief influence and authority in the Church. Their influence, their standing-ground, was utterly shattered by the Saviour's advent; the kingdom passed visibly, absolutely, finally, out of the rule of their hand. But there was never any question of its passing wholly from the Jews; the Jews were never to be disowned. Paul earnestly, with intense emphasis, asserts this, and makes it the basis of a long and profound argument. "I say then, hath God cast away His people? God forbid. For I also am an Israelite, of the seed of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin. God hath not cast away His people, which He foreknew." (Rom. xi. 1, 2.) The Jews, as such, were not cast away. We think all too slightly of the strength of the Jewish element in the apostolic Church. And it is the Jews--the people, not their leaders--who are in question here. They had borne the burden and heat of the day; they had done the work--with what result, well or ill, is not the point in debate. There is no idea of their being dismissed without honour or recompense; the question is simply concerning the bringing in of other husbandmen, the Gentile nations, at the last hour, to share in full measure in all that the Jewish workmen had won by their long and hot day's toil. Perhaps the favourite mode of reconciling the Master's dealings with fundamental principles of equity is to be found in the suggestion, towards which some sentences in Olshausen's Exposition strongly lean, that the first called laboured so lazily, and the last called so strenuously that (regarding the actual amount of work accomplished) the Master's arrangements were more equitable than might at first appear. Notwithstanding the apt illustration of this which appears to be offered by the history of St. Paul, who, though the last called, "laboured more abundantly than they all," the explanation seems to me to miss the whole point of the teaching of the parable, and to proceed upon very low and worldly conceptions of the method of the Divine ways. There is no hint of such a solution in the body of the parable itself; which is a sufficiently grave objection. If this be the key, its existence is carefully suppressed, and the souls that were most sorely perplexed by the appearance of injustice are left wholly ignorant of the truth. Nay, their ignorance is confirmed by the language, or rather by the silence, of the parable. The answer to their protest on the ground that they had "borne the burden and heat of the day" would have been decisive and was ready at hand. But no hint of a justification on this ground is suffered to appear. Their assertion is allowed to pass unanswered, and must be accepted for the purposes of the parable as the truth. Whether they had wrought well or ill, though it may be the main point in other parables, is plainly not the point which is in question here. And in the interpretation of parables we get into endless difficulties, if we, so to speak, travel beyond the record, and consider the details in any other light than as the garniture of the one central idea which the parable is intended to set forth. As far as this parable is concerned, we must accept it as a fact that they had borne the burden and heat of the day; and no explanation of its equity can be entertained which sets that fact at nought. That we may the better understand what it does mean, let us consider:-- I. The work of the vineyard to which all were called, and in which the first called bore the burden and heat of the day. II. The reason of the idleness of the husbandmen who at the eleventh hour were called to the work. III. The Lord's justification of His ways. I. The work of the vineyard. I believe that there is nothing very definite in detail here set before our minds, and that we shall get into dire confusion if we inquire about the class or classes of members of the Church which may be signified by the husbandmen. There is no question of classes of Christian labourers, or kinds of Christian work, in the narrative. It is God's work, and these are God's workmen in the field of His visible Church, in the broadest sense which those words may bear. The vineyard is the visible field of God's tillage. The vast invisible field we are not called to consider; except to assure ourselves that one grand principle rules, explains, and justifies God's methods with the whole. The visible field, up to the day of Pentecost, was the Jewish commonwealth, which was about to expand into the Christian commonwealth when our Lord delivered the discourses which contain our text. In the Jewish commonwealth, not priest and prophet only, but every child of Abraham was a called husbandman; just as every Christian disciple, as much as apostle, bishop, evangelist, or deacon, is a called labourer in the wider vineyard of the Christian Church. The broad feature of the work of the vineyard is, that it is man's true, noble, God-ordained work. It is the work for which all his organs and powers were fashioned, and in which his whole being was made to rejoice. Why were these men standing in the market-place? What took them there? Why were they not lounging idly about the fields, or sleeping at home? Clearly because some divine instinct within them moved them thither, that they might be in the way of being hired for a day's toil. A divine instinct, I say. He little understands humanity, who imagines that the great bread and cheese question is at the bottom of even a tithe of the daily labour of mankind. It would be hard to find a man who just works enough to provide the bread and cheese and beer which he needs to sustain his animal nature, and then folds his arms and takes his ease until new hunger compels new toil. There are such men about the world, no doubt; but it is a hard matter to find them. And when they are found, men attach to such a bestial idea of life the epithet "unmanly" with a bitter emphasis, which reveals how deeply there is inwrought into the very texture of man's nature the divine instinct of work. Man is made for it, as the flower of the field is made for the free air of heaven. Shut out from it, he grows irritable and sickly, his powers droop, his courage fails, his hope dies, his life is a wreck. And very noble motive inspires well-nigh the whole of human labour. Love, pure self-denying love, love of wife, love of child, of friends, of mankind, is the moving spring of most of man's most strenuous toil. God's work, work for God, and for man for the love of God, is but the highest form or mode of human labour. Man's divine work is not something essentially different in principle from all his other work. All his best labour in his daily tasks proceeds upon the existence within him of powers and organs which can only find their highest exercise, and which can only justify their lowest exercise, in the work of the vineyard which the Lord has given us each one to do. Man is simply unmanned while he stands all the day idle in the market-place; his goodliest powers and organs are rusting, his blood trickles with dull stagnant motion through his lazy veins, his whole system is oppressed and burdened, his muscles ache for exercise, his cheek is pale, his eye is dim. The kingly being is unbraced and discrowned; no joys or honours attend the _fainéant_ king. Who are the pitiable ones here? On whom shall we spend our regrets and sorrows? The hardy sunburnt workmen, who have spent their strength manfully in a brave day's work; who watch the westering sun as only the tired labourer has the right to watch him; and who settle peacefully to the workman's rest till the gay sunlight wakes them again to new glad toils in a young, fresh, dewy world? Nay, the work of the vineyard is man's honour, joy, glory, and bliss. To be called to work in it is the crown of his manhood; to finish his work with joy is his noblest praise. But why should it not end here? If he is to be counted blessed who works in the vineyard, if his work gladdens, enriches, and ennobles him what room is there for the thought of pay? What can the pennies in this case mean? Man is made with a large capacity, and a large thought and hope of happiness. He can take a large blessing into his being, larger than he can meet within his present sphere. The range of his nature takes in the infinite and the eternal. The work is noble, glorious exercise; but God only can fill and satisfy his spirit. Man needs something beyond the mere play of his powers, though their free play is an intense exhilaration and delight. He needs the fellowship of beings to satisfy the yearning, to feed the appetite, of his nobler nature; he needs the love of God, and communion with all that is of God, that he may rest and be blessed. This is the reward which the earthly day of his toil and patience will bring. The true workman is happy in his work, and sings while he toils. But God has a yet richer benediction for His children when the work is done, a blessing which will beautify and glorify life through eternity. This He gives to the workman out of His royal bounty, His own blessedness. It is His own to give; and all true workmen, whatever the measure of their work, because of the spirit of their work, shall claim it at His hand. II. The reason of the idleness of the husbandmen who were not called till the eleventh hour to the work. "And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others standing idle, and said unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle? They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us." The true key to the parable lies here. There are many other answers conceivable. They might have said, Because we like to lounge and loaf, work is irksome; or, Because we are over-tired with yesterday's toil; or, Because the pay does not suit us, we are out on strike. Imagine that any one of these answers had been given; the whole character of the parable would have been changed, and the equity of the ways of God would then have been dark, dark indeed. But no. The men were willing to work; they were waiting to be hired; they made no bargain about their pay. "Go ye into the vineyard; and whatsoever is right, that shall ye receive," the Master said; and they went, content to leave their wage to His justice. The men evidently cared more about the work than the pay. In truth the idlers were to be pitied. The Master pitied them, and He gave to their will the wage which lack of opportunity had forbidden them to earn before. And this opens up some serious thoughts about the pagan world, and its relation to the kingdom of God. There is a profound, but not an impenetrable mystery hidden in the words, "the fulness of the time." Through long ages the pagan world was left groping in the darkness, "_feeling after God if haply it might find Him_," and moaning as it grasped at phantoms in the gloom, and saw them slip from its empty hand. Looking at the anguish and misery of the world at this moment, one is constrained to confess that the Lord of the world is One who can bring Himself to look upon, and to bear the responsibility of ruling over, a terrible amount of pain. But what shall we say of the long ages of pagan darkness, when men were not _feeling_ after God only, but crying for Him, shrieking to Him, were maiming their quivering flesh and torturing their shuddering hearts, because the void only echoed back their own voices and none could tell them the Divine Name. The time is gone by when it was possible to look upon the history of heathendom as the history of one long stern effort to break away from God, to blot out His name from the universe, and to tear every trace of His image out of the life of the human world. It is now well understood that the deepest thing in heathen life and heathen literature was ever the cry after the living God, and the effort to find Him; the grandest passages in the religious records of heathendom are the words in which the founders of the great pagan systems proclaimed what they believed had been made known to them of His Being and His Will; and the gladdest, in truth the only joyous, passages in pagan history, are the records of the generations in which men persuaded themselves that God had at length visited His world. Soon the gladness vanished, overborne by wrong and lust. But while it lasted it made the solitary gleam of brightness which crosses the blackness of the pagan night. The revival of morals, of manners, and of hopes, which for a few brief generations has followed the teaching of the great masters whom paganism adores, is the one ray of heavenly light which shines in the pagan darkness, and bears witness that there is sunlight, though shining on other spheres. The joy which filled the hearts of the heathen peoples, when Sakya-Mouni, Zerdusht, Confucius, or Mahomet, proclaimed at any rate a purer faith, a nobler idea of life, than the dark, soulless, senseless formulæ in which a tyrannous priesthood had buried the Divine Name, is like some faint and far-off glow of the joy which leaped from heart to heart like flame when it was known that God had in very truth visited His people, and that the King of Glory had taken possession of His earthly throne. Through this long sad night, lit only by these rare faint gleams, men had been looking, longing, and moaning for a deliverer; and steadily settling the while, and they knew it, into the slough of the devil's accursed dominion, because no Almighty Helper and Saviour appeared. We see their misery, their tears, their mad outbursts of passion, their foul orgies of lust; and our hearts bleed, nay there have been hearts that have burst, as they watched this tragedy of despair. And heaven heard it all, saw it all, through long ages; and still no deliverer was sent. It is a profound mystery, the millenniums through which the world was left to grope and to moan in the darkness, while the clear sunlight of God's truth was flashing its brightness so joyously on the homes of the chosen race. I say again, the mystery, though profound, is not inscrutable; for there is Calvary to expound it. In the long run, in the great day of eternity, it will be seen, that this forsaking of the heathen world was an essential part of a benign and merciful plan, of which Calvary is the centre; and that it lies in the full harmony of a love which "_endured the cross, and despised the shame_," that a whole world might be gathered at length to the great Father's heart. But the "_no man hath hired us_" has a profound and pathetic meaning, when we search the records of pagan religious effort and aspiration, and when we see how everywhere, when the gates were flung open, the Gentiles thronged, streamed, crushed, into the kingdom of God. I find in this thought the whole mystery of the parable unfolded. The Gentiles had been looking, waiting, longing, in their own dull way, for the work of the vineyard. It was the Master's counsel, as well as their own dull hearts, which had kept them idle during the noontide heats. And it was the work which it was in their hearts to do that the Master honoured, when He made them equal to the favoured and happy husbandmen, had they but known it, who had "_borne the burden and heat of the day_." III. The Master's justification of His ways. "So when even was come, the lord of the vineyard saith unto his steward, Call the labourers, and give them their hire, beginning from the last unto the first. And when they came that were hired about the eleventh hour, they received every man a penny. But when the first came, they supposed that they should have received more; and they likewise received every man a penny. And when they had received it they murmured against the goodman of the house, saying, These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast made them equal unto us, which have borne the burden and heat of the day. But he answered one of them, and said, Friend, I do thee no wrong; didst not thou agree with me for a penny? Take that thine is, and go thy way: I will give unto this last, even as unto thee. Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil, because I am good? So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen" (Matt. xx. 8-16). These words imply-- 1. That there is infinite grace, through which a certain equity shines, in the things which God has provided for all who have wrought, even though feebly and tardily, at His work. The work is honour and happiness; the want of it is shame and pain. The early labourers are the enviable; the late labourers are the pitiable. But God in His boundless grace adds a boundless gift to all: "the gift of God," which "is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord." But through the grace a certain equity shines. Man was made for Life, he was born for it. To miss the glorious boon which God has the power to bestow on him through Christ, were to miss the very end and issue to which God touched his spirit. A well-nigh infinite capacity of being, loving, and enjoying, is in him, which God only can satisfy and eternity only can complete. And God in His boundless love and mercy meets him in his idleness and degradation, and proposes to him a work which His grace will crown with glorious, everlasting joy. 2. None shall miss the blessing through the order of the dispensations. If the Jews were called, and the Pagans were left sad and idle in the streets, the evenfall shall adjust the balance, the evening of earth's life, the morning of the everlasting day. Idle and sad, I say. When you are next at South Kensington Museum, place yourself before the cartoon of "Paul preaching at Athens." Mark the foremost in the group of pagan hearers; he bears in his sad wistful countenance the whole tale of Gentile waiting, longing, hoping, disappointment, despondency, and despair. Few preachers can preach such a sermon as utters itself mutely from that man's eyes and lips. This parable is Christ's answer to the mute appeal: "No man hath hired thee, poor outcast! the day spent, the soul lost! Come in, at the last hour, come in. These have wrought in a noble service the long day through. The sweat of manly toil is on their brow, the joy of a work well done is in their hearts. Come in; the sun still lacks some hours of setting. Bend thy soul to the task, put thy heart into the labour of the hour, and the same meed shall be thine. Even as unto this first, will I give unto thee; come in." 9. On a wider scale the parable is Christ's assurance, that through all outward inequalities of gift, endowment, opportunity, position, prospect, which jar this jangled world, there is a sublime equity ruling which will right all wrongs, adjust all balances, and square all issues with pure celestial justice at last. "_No man hath hired us._" How much does this explain of the bitterness and misery with which the world is filled! Cross purposes, cross callings, cross relationships, cross necessities, cross issues of life! Men with power in them for a service which is never asked of them; tied down to a desk or a counter, it may be, while they feel within them the stirrings of a power to guide the coursers of the sun. Men bound in a home which has no beauty for them, no love; while beyond there is a vision of the Eden which might be, if bonds could be unbound and bound afresh. Some overflowing with fatherly or motherly tenderness, in a barren home. Some shrinking from the prattle of infant voices, yet with stuff in them of noble texture, shut up to a nursery through the prime of their days. Some longing, pining, panting for a work they love, bound to a work they loathe. Some with a genial, generous, royal nature, wrestling with the serpents of care and penury their long life through. "This is a mad world, my masters;" "the times are out of joint;" it is all out of joint everywhen and everywhere! "No man hath hired us" to the work which we are fit for; a glorious wealth of being, of power, is left to "fust in us unused." Patience, brothers, patience! One grand work, the grandest, spreads broad and fair before you; "in your patience possess ye your souls." The hiring is in higher, wiser hands; the patience, the hope, are in yours, with all their glorious eternal fruit. None of the sighing, none of the groaning, none of the desire and yearning of your spirit, is hidden from Him who made you, and who in His own good time will call you to your God-ordained work. "UNTO THIS LAST WILL I GIVE, EVEN AS UNTO THEE" reveals the sublime equity of His dealings. Await with strong patience, with steadfast hope, the things and the times of His sovereign appointment; till you find with profound and wondering joy, that your patience has won a prize whose splendour outshines the constellations, and whose bliss shall outlast eternity. IV. LAW AND LIFE. "In the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be."--ECCLES. xi. 3. There are few passages in the word of God which are more constantly misapplied than this. It is systematically wrested to the establishment of doctrines with which it has nothing whatever to do. The popular interpretation of the text treats it as equivalent to the assertion, that the condition of the human soul through its long eternity is settled absolutely and irrevocably by death. We believe that nine out of ten, of those who hold this doctrine would quote this passage if they were suddenly asked to sustain their belief out of the word of God. With the truth of the doctrine in question we are not dealing in the present discourse; there are passages in the word of God which bear on it with most unquestionable cogency. But this is not one of them. Our present purpose is to show what it _does_ mean, and that its reference is to a subject which is well-nigh as far removed from that on which it is supposed to bear as the poles. We approach a dread, an awful subject, when we contemplate the condition of those who pass into the unseen world impenitent and faithless; who despise finally, as far as we can trace, the riches of the mercy and the love of God. It is a subject which is occupying the most earnest and solemn thoughts of some of the wisest of our Christian thinkers, and on which a large freedom of judgment will have to be conceded within the visible pale of the Christian Church. It is easy to state the doctrine of universalism, and to offer it as a solution of the dark difficulties with which the subject is surrounded. But it is not easy to get the doctrine of universalism out of the Bible; nay, it is not possible, without grievous violence to some of its plainest and most awful statements: nor, on the other hand, is it easy to harmonize it with any intelligent conceptions of the moral freedom and responsibility of every child of the human race. Others seek refuge, for it is as a refuge that they appear to cling to it, in the theory of annihilation--that is, the annihilation on a vast scale of that which God made to be His masterpiece, which He constituted in His own image, and into which He infused by inspiration the breath of His own life. More grievous violence must be done to the plain language of Scripture by the advocates of this theory than by those of the former; and it seems to us still harder to find for it a place in any intelligent and harmonious conception of the scheme on which God made the worlds. Were it possible for us to hold it, it would seem to unfold a terrible vision of the issue of the great experiment of creation. The free beings whom God made to be the glory of His universe, drooping down in throngs, after a life struggle full of anguish and despair, into the darkness of the everlasting night! One would be tempted to ask passionately in that case, Why was not the dire experiment of liberty ended in the hour of the first transgression? why was not the free universe, parent of such wrongs and miseries, strangled in its birth? Nor may we dare to hide from ourselves and others, in these days, the dread considerations involved in the doctrine which the Church has drawn from explicit statements in the word of God. Eternal punishment; eternal suffering in the universe; moans rising up ever in the ear of heaven; the cries of souls in anguish piercing the serenity of the heavenly rest. Eternal evil too. Evil never more to die out of the worlds on which the dew of the primal benediction lay, and which flashed back the smile of Him who looked upon them and saw that "_they were very good_." The curse rioting, sin reigning unto death, in some region of the universe sustained and ruled by the Divine hand; never to be expelled from the creation, never to be drawn under the merciful reign of God. We are too prone to hide the awful reality which is behind this language, by vague notions of the judgment as the final banishing of evil from the sight of God and of the blessed. Nothing that is can be banished from the sight of God; nothing that exists--we will not say lives, life is a sacred word--can exist from moment to moment without the interposition of the Divine hand. Ever present before the great Father must be the anguish and the moans of the souls in torment; ever to His eye there must be this dark counterfoil to the joy and glory of the redeemed. And yet the question forces itself upon us: What else can the plain statements of the Scriptures mean; nay, what else can in the essential nature of things befall a free spirit that chooses to exercise its freedom in sin? We may well feel with a wise one of old, "Such knowledge is too wonderful for us: it is as high as heaven, what can we do? it is as deep as hell, what can we know?" Sore difficulties beset us in working out a clear and harmonious theory of the judgment and its issues. But blessed be God that we can rest in the belief that all will be, in ways that we see not, so wisely and righteously ordered by the Judge of all the earth, as to satisfy the yearning heart, not of the great Father only, but of the Redeemer of humanity, and to fill the universe with praise. Here as elsewhere, when we are bewildered and perplexed by thoughts too high for us and which reach too far, we find a sure refuge and rest in faith. We believe God in Christ, and we can leave our future and the future of humanity in His hand. Meanwhile, our work, our duty is clear: "_Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God._" "_This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent._" "_Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ._" "_Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved._" But this is beside the scope of the present discourse. I have to consider what these words, so strangely misapplied, do mean, and to draw from them those most pregnant lessons concerning the conduct of life which they are intended to afford. "_Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days. Give a portion to seven, and also to eight; for thou knowest not what evil shall be upon the earth. If the clouds be full of ram, they empty themselves upon the earth: and if the tree fall toward the south, or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be. He that observeth the wind shall not sow; and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap. As thou knowest not what is the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her that is with child: even so thou knowest not the works of God who maketh all. In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good._" I. The key to the passage, the broad idea which underlies the whole, is in the first verse. In the sixth verse the writer repeats the thought under a varied form, and it is evident that it rules the whole. Let us ask ourselves what it means. It is a fair question whether we have here a reference to a popular proverb descriptive of the most useless and apparently hopeless work, "casting bread upon the waters;" or whether there is a reference to Egyptian husbandry, which might seem just as futile a method, did not experience prove that a harvest of splendid abundance is the well-nigh certain result. I do not think that it is needful to settle the rival claims of the two interpretations,[B] inasmuch as the essential point of the author's meaning is involved in both. In either case you have a husbandry of faith; and in either case you have a grand image of all noble spiritual work. All husbandry is of faith to an extent which we little realize, but most especially this husbandry. The seed-corn scattered from the hand vanishes from sight, the very bed in which it is hidden lies buried, and an uncongenial, impenetrable element spreads its barrier between the sower and the seed, which he must leave in the hands of God. The farmer who has ploughed his field and settled his seed in the furrows feels less shut out from it; he sees at least where it lies, he can test its condition, he can trace the first green bloom on the brown surface of his fields, which is the prophecy and the pledge of harvest. But seed cast into the waters! where is it? who can trace it? what can withhold the waters from rotting it, and burying the promise of the seed and the hope of the husbandman in their depths? And the seed dropped into the furrows of the human seed-field, the heart that has been broken up by the deep ploughshare of God's discipline, and over which a fertilizing flood of quickening influences has passed,--where lies it? What glance can follow it? What hand can touch it? What eye can foresee, what brain can forecast, its destiny? There is a dread likeness here, to the eye of the understanding, between this perilous husbandry and spiritual labour; man's knowledge is so limited, man's hand is so powerless, the seed passes so far out of his ken, and lies buried in such deep depths within. There is a mystery in all husbandry which it is manifestly the purpose of God to keep clearly before the eye of the soul. He will not suffer us to forget it. "_And he said, So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground; and should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how. For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear. But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come_" (Mark iv. 26-29). This is the daily miracle of nature, the "sign" which is done daily before our eyes. There are those, and they constitute a large and powerful school of thinkers in our day, who refuse coldly to listen to any evidence as to the miracles of Scripture, and who see this sign of an unseen energy at work around them and within them each moment, but feel powerless even to inquire from what fountain it springs. It is deeply unjust to brand the Positivist school of philosophy as explicitly either materialistic or atheistic. They are by no means blind to the fact that there is a hidden mystery in nature; they see quite as clearly as we do its marvellous depths. There is something quite as wonderful in their sight in the daily growth of the corn and the assimilation of our daily bread, as in the feeding of five thousand in the lonely wilderness by the word which came forth from the mouth of the Saviour. But they say, this region is simply impenetrable by the human intellect; in all its efforts at discovery it simply meets with shadows projected under various conditions and at various angles by itself. Our fair charge against them is, not that they are blind to the fact of a mystery in nature, but that they dishonour the royal faculty of the reason with which God has gifted them, by distrusting its ability to deal with a vast class of phenomena--the manifestations of the working of unseen powers with which God has surrounded them--which are as definite and substantial as the physical facts out of which they educe their laws. The world of spiritual experience and activity with which mainly the Bible deals, claims from us, at any rate, observation, thought, and deduction, as reverent as that which we joyfully devote to the phenomena of nature; and we accept as eagerly the thoughts and suggestions of seers who have insight into this world of mystery, as we accept the teachings of science concerning things which are beyond our sight. And if words come to us from this higher sphere, which harmonize discordant elements and make the chaos of our spiritual consciousness and experience a cosmos ruled by intelligence and love, we joyfully accept the truth which sustains and explains the phenomena, and feel that in proclaiming it we are "holding forth a word of life" to our fellow-men. And the Scripture miracle is to us a flash of sunlight, which illumines the darkness of the unknown: we see unveiled the Hand which is working each moment these signs and wonders within and around us; and, studying the nature, the mind, the heart, by which that Hand is guided, we find rest in the assurance that the power whose awful manifestation in nature might well appal and overwhelm us, is under the absolute rule of One whose declaration of Himself is that He is Love. We receive an emancipation from both the terrors and the idols of the imagination, when we learn that the daily bread of our lives comes to us from the hand of the Father, and is crowned with His benediction. The poor believe it quite simply: they have a beautiful sense of dependence on the Hand which feeds the birds and clothes the lilies. As a child hangs on the mother's breast, they hang daily as trustfully on the bounty of the Lord. And they are more free from vain fancies herein than the philosophers. It is the wise and the scribe who are in bondage to idols: simple hearts, which have received the revelation of the relations of the two worlds which the Bible offers, walk free in the sunlight, and dwell quiet from the fear of evil. "_Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days._" The main point here then is, that in all husbandry there are two elements--the intelligence and energy of the man, and the co-operation of a secret force, the springs of which and the methods of which escape him, but on which absolutely depend all his fruits. Neither without the other can produce the harvest. Paul plants, Apollos waters; but God giveth the increase: but neither without Paul's planting does the harvest spring. "_Behold, a sower went forth to sow._" The human sower is, as far as we see, the indispensable fellow-worker with the Most High God. But God, and not the human sower, has the absolute control of the result. Let us look at this more closely. To impress this upon us is the main object of the writer in the text. II. The writer of this book asks us to consider how much that has the most important bearing on the results of our activity is hopelessly beyond the control of our hand. No doubt this is a truism: but it is the meaning and force of these truisms which most easily escape us; custom is the blind of truth. No matter what it may be to which we put our hands, we are dealing with elements which only partially subject themselves to our control, or rather reveal to us the secret by which they may be bent to our use. Always there is a large variable element in the problem of our activities; and on this variable element, which we have no means of calculating, depends all that is most precious and vital in our results. Husbandry here is the great witness for, and key to, higher things. Certain bases are fixed and unalterable; else our work would be a pure lottery. Much on which its fruits depend is variable; else our work would be purely mechanical. God gives us a large measure of assurance, that we may work bravely and put our hearts into our labour, as those who have a right to hope that they will carry the sheaves of their harvest home; but He crosses our toil with a zone of uncertainties, that we may be faithful workmen, trusting and praying as well as working, and may be kept in holy and blessed dependence on Him who can lift us above all servile care for immediate results. Consider-- 1. The awful force and inevitable certainty of the processes of Nature, the unfailing "order of Nature" which furnishes forth the field of our toils. That order God guarantees. The assurance is thus expressed: "_While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease_" (Gen. viii. 22). That word of promise which has nursed the trembling hope of man into strong certainty--for he is as sure that the sun will rise on the morrow as he is of his own existence--lies at the foundation of all his steady activity as a workman in this lower world. The joyful outgoings of the morning and evening, and the succession of the seasons, are given to him as the constant elements in his husbandry. These are assured to him by the voice that called them into being and the hand which sustains their motions. God tells him that he may count absolutely on this order. And what guarantee, when we come to think of it, have we of that order, but such as a firm belief in an intelligent Ruler of the universe, who sympathises with the hopes and blesses the toils of His children, affords? Then further,-- 2. There is the absolutely certain sequence of physical causes and effects, or antecedents and consequents, which we call laws of nature, which vary not one hair's breadth from their ordained order in obedience to the mandates of our will, but which, by observing and mastering the principle of that order, we can use for the accomplishment of our ends. These are our tools to work with. A thousand subtle laws are concerned in every process of the husbandman's toils. On a large scale and in the long run the question of his success depends absolutely on his comprehension and observance of those laws. The progress of man's knowledge of nature is really a progress in the mastery of the variable element in the problem of his labour. A thousand accidents, which baffle the ignorant and careless husbandman, obey the control of the intelligent and strenuous. The order is rigid. There is an awful sternness in its certainty; but it grows benign to him who has mastered its secret. It obeys him as a servant, it helps him as a friend; and the certainty with which he can calculate its action is one essential element of its friendliness. If he could not weigh the materials and measure the forces which are constantly around him, if he could not count on their known relations and actions with the same calm certainty with which he expects the sunrise to light him to his daily toils, his life would be one of miserable dependence; he would live the serf of nature, and not her king. It is the unalterable fixity of relations and forces which God has given him the power to discover and to employ, which constitutes the royalty of his rule over nature; if that be destroyed or shaken, his crown rolls in the dust. The constancy of the relations and forces of the universe, their impassibility to the force which man's will can bring to bear upon them, of which his husbandry gives him full experience, is an essential element, perhaps we might say _the_ essential element, in that higher culture which they offer to his spirit; it is this which makes the life of even the workman something higher than a lottery, and the toils of earth an education for the works and the joys of heaven. 3. The writer of this book, while he sees this grand, calm, and constant order very clearly, and appreciates its ministry to man, has a dark, sad vision of the uncertainties which cross it--the strength and magnitude of the variable element in nature and in life, which perplexes and baffles the strenuous workman, keeps him constantly on the tenter-hooks of anxiety, and not seldom rends his heart with anguish, and lays his fairest and proudest achievements in ruins in the dust. A certain order is there, all men can see it. Yes, men say,--and especially orientals, in whose climate the destructive agencies often run riot; but there is a dire disorder, and the disorder triumphs. Who knows the pathway of the storms, the earthquakes, the lava floods, the drought, and the deluge? who knows and rules their times? The fairest homesteads are made desolate in a moment; verdant beauty as of Eden vanishes, and blasting and burning as of Sodom reigns in its room. There are malign powers in the universe which seem to watch all beauty and increase, that they may make it their prey. Do not men in all ages tremble as they rejoice in prosperity? Do not the proverbs of all nations warn us that trouble in such moments is near? There is a hand unseen which deals destruction to our harvests and homesteads, in the moment when they smile on us most gaily; and we are powerless to resist it; we can but sit like Job on the dunghill of our ruined fortunes and bemoan ourselves, and it may be curse the day which sent us forth to till such a treacherous seed-field as this. The dearest things, the things which we love most tenderly, the possession of which is our life, may be struck down in a moment, the delight of our eyes laid low at a stroke; we may plead and pray, we may wrestle with God in a frenzy of supplication: the hand which grasps our treasure is pitiless; pass a few days, we shall be standing tearless and defiant by the grave of our beloved. Pagans exclaim against their gods as treacherous, and refuse them service. Catholics revenge themselves by cashiering their saint. Nay, the same brutal instinct may be found in Protestant England: I have heard of a farmer, whose harvest was all ruined, sticking a rotten sheaf in the hedge and leaving it there, to make, as he said, God Almighty ashamed. We shudder at the blasphemy; but it is only a coarse expression of the anguish of the helpless in the hand of a power which seems inexorable and merciless, which crosses their most settled purposes, destroys ruthlessly their most precious harvests, and murders all their brightest joys. "_If the clouds be full of rain, they empty themselves upon the earth: and if the tree fall toward the south, or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be. He that observeth the wind shall not sow; and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap. As thou knowest not what is the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her that is with child: even so thou knowest not the works of God who maketh all. In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good_" (ver. 3-6). There is a power at work behind the veil which may at any moment cross our purpose by some unexpected stroke, which gives to us no account of its methods, and which allows no court of appeal from its decrees. The tree falls, and who can foresee when it may fall? And when it falls, it cares not what it crushes, and the wrecks of it strew our fairest fields, and bury our golden harvests in the dust. III. What then? There being this law of calamity at work, defying all calculation and all defence, what is the true policy of life? There are mainly two policies of life; the stoic and the Christian. The Stoic says,--Everything is beyond my control, but myself. There is a kingdom whose sceptre can never be wrested from my hand. _Things_ are certain enemies of my peace. I will make myself independent of _things_. I will reduce my relations with things outside me to a minimum. I am surer of a crust than of a banquet; so I will train myself to care only for a crust; a crust of food, a crust of wealth, a crust of friendship will be enough for me. I will fold the cloak of my manhood around me, and shake myself free of all dependence on fickle fortune and mortal friends. The Christian says,--Everything is beyond my control, but myself. So far, he and the Stoic are at one. But he reflects that what is beyond HIS control is not beyond all control. This law of calamity obeys the rule of One who has given the most solemn and awful pledge that He loves me as a friend and treats me as a child. He would not have me adopt the demeanour and policy of an outcast in a storm, but of a child at home. I will throw my nature open to the sunlight. I will make myself as rich as possible in all good and beautiful possessions, and in troops of friends. It is the will of Him who rules my life that I should be so; He made me with all these affections and sympathies; He made me to feel life a blessing. I will work and be glad, and live and love according to His will; and trust, not my own hardness, but my Father's mercy, to spare me over-much pain, and to make life in some due measure a joy. Here are the two policies. How does the text decide? "_Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days._" "_If the clouds be full of rain, they empty themselves upon the earth: and if the tree fall toward the south, or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be._" "_In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good._" The argument is, God who made you to toil, to till the ground, and to till the more difficult and perilous seed-field of domestic, social, and political life, made the world thus. Both your vocation as a workman, and the field of your labour, with the conditions of that labour, are ordained by Him. There must then be an essential harmony. One wise and intelligent Being as the author of the whole system; and this law of calamity is not at war with your vocation, but is also its minister, and in deep and far-reaching ways is working with you to your ends. It is not, according to the dark pagan theory, the work of a malign spirit, strong enough to break in and make the homesteads and the lives which God has made His charge, a wreck. "_I form the light and create darkness; I make peace and create evil; I, the Lord, do all these things._" It is all the work of one hand, and that a wise and loving one. Work on, work bravely, work gaily; storms may sweep your fields and shadows may darken your homes; but no calamity, inward or outward, is unto death. The storm and blight of this year will swell the bulk of next year's harvests; and the deeper cares and sorrows of our spiritual husbandry but load us with an increase which the years lay up in the garners of eternity. Practically, the husbandman finds it to be so. Making the fullest allowance for all the crosses, the storms, the blights, the violence of Nature and of man, the balance is still amply on the side of the faithful workman. Year by year man's tillage advances; the wilderness and the solitary place is made glad by his toil, and the desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose. This means that a wise and loving Hand holds all the disturbing forces under control, and fixes their bounds where they instruct and stimulate, but never on a grand scale scare and paralyse mankind. The losses and the crosses of the croupier of the gaming table are borne with profound patience, for there is a certain chance in his favour which must inevitably in the long run fill his coffers with gain. How calmly, now joyously, should we work on through our storms and sorrows, who have, not a margin of security guaranteed by the theory of probabilities, but the certainty of an abundant and glorious harvest, if we are faithful and patient, guaranteed by the living God. And do not pervert the teaching of the Scripture by narrowing its scope. It does not say,--Work, for the work is good for you; results are nothing. It says rather,--Work, for God is working with you, and results are His care. The Lord does not say,--Take no thought for the morrow, for these cares of food and clothes and health are sordid; despise them, and think exclusively of higher things. Quite other, and infinitely more wise and tender, is His teaching,--Do not be distracted by cares, "_for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things_," and how He furnishes those who trust Him let the birds and the lilies declare. "_Cast thy bread upon the waters_," for there is One watching it who will bring it back after many days. "_They that sow in tears shall reap in joy._" "_He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless_"--doubtless because the Lord of the harvest assures it--"_come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him_." Three practical principles, which indicate the Christian policy of life, I gather from the text:-- 1. Do not be afraid of giving with bountiful hand lest your charity should be wasted. Scatter your gifts freely: "_freely ye have received, freely give_." "_He that hath a bountiful eye shall be blessed_," blessed with the blessedness of Christ, and like Christ he shall gather in rich harvests. Sow your gifts as the husbandman scatters the seed in his furrows, leaving it with God to watch it, to bless its springing, to ripen its fruit. Much of our charity, our effort to bless mankind, must seem to be futile. The waters close on it, it vanishes from sight and touch, it is rotting, we think, in the depths. No; I think that the discovery of the unknown fruit of the patient efforts and the loving sacrifices for men which on earth seemed to us to be wasted, will be one of the purest and intensest joys of eternity. 2. Do not be afraid of working lest your toil should be fruitless. There is no fruitless labour. Every hammer-stroke on the forge of duty welds something which will outlast eternity. Work with a will then, with a courage, an energy, a hope, to which Heaven lends its inspiration; and believe that nothing is so sure in the universe as your harvest. This seed of your toil may be stolen, that may be crushed, that may be blighted when it is set for fruit; but the grand sum of your labour is beyond the reach of the Harpies. God guards it, God quickens it, and God and angels will rejoice with you when one day you bring your golden harvest home. 3. Do not be afraid of loving because every love is a sure germ of pain. Throw wide the doors of your heart to all comers in the name of the Lord. The sorrows will spring, but the joys will overflow them. Count yourself rich, as you are rich in love. Keen sorrow it must bring, but with it superabounding joy. Ask God to hallow your loves, and to consecrate your crosses, and the pain is purged of all its bitterness; it is but the first throb of a great unspeakable joy, which will play like sunlight around your life in the homes where the weary are for ever at rest. FOOTNOTE: [B] Those who wish to settle the critical question will find ample help in Dr. Ginsburg's learned and exhaustive "Commentary on Ecclesiastes." (Longmans, 1861.) V. THE LOST BIRTHRIGHT. "Esau, who for one morsel of meat sold his birthright. For ye know how that afterward, when he would have inherited the blessing, he was rejected: for he found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears."--HEB. xii. 16, 17. These words have always seemed to be among the very saddest in the book of God. No place of repentance, though sought carefully with tears! It is a very terrible picture, and seems to describe the experience of what must have been a very wretched and blighted life. It is possible that if we study the matter closely some of the tones of sadness may be lightened; but still Esau and his sad history will remain one of the dark perplexities of Scripture, just as the acts and the fate of men like Esau are among the most inscrutable mysteries of life. There are men like Esau cropping up everywhere; men who seem born to lose their birthright, to be befooled by the keen and subtle Jacobs, to be seeking ever places of repentance, and to find Fate inexorable to their tears. Men _born_ under the dark doom of the rejected, we are tempted to say--so inevitable their destiny appears from the first. In this case, "_the elder shall serve the younger_," was written of the twin brethren in the womb, and Jacob was the successful supplanter from his birth. There are many sad mysteries in life, and the history of such natures and their destiny are among the saddest. We cannot hope to fathom it on earth; but blessed be God for the assurance which we are not only permitted but bound to cherish, that all which is inscrutable here and dark with shadows will unfold a divine order and beauty in the long bright day of eternity. Esau and Jacob, both in their personal character and their relations with each other, are representative men, and foreshow in brief the essential character of large phases and long periods of human development. They place before us, as we read the record of their personal history, the great twin brethren, the Gentile and the Jewish, perhaps even more widely the Christian and the heathen, sections of mankind. The earlier records of the book of God are full of such typical characters and lives. In truth, in the earliest time life was typical; men lived in large and free intercourse with Nature and with their fellow-men. The conventional swathing-bands with which modern society has bound itself were unknown. Men lived boldly from within, and what they said and did had broad human significance, and forecast naturally what men would say and do under the same conditions to the end of time. Hence, we imagine, the exceeding fulness of the book of Genesis in its painting of character and life. Nowhere have we anything like such large and graphic portraiture as here. The reason is surely that in those ages life was richly doctrinal, and that the God who caused all Holy Scripture to be written for our learning saw that the history of such lives as those of Abraham, Isaac, Esau, Jacob, and Joseph, would be the most precious legacy which could be handed down from the age of the patriarchs to all time. The contrast of these two men is peculiarly rich and instructive. Esau is the lusty, genial, jovial pagan; impulsive, impetuous, frank, and generous, but sensual and self-willed. A man keenly alive to the claims and experiences of the moment; slow to believe in unseen realities and the harvest which could only be reaped beyond long years of patience and pain. Jacob, on the other hand, led from the first a meditative and interior life. What may be meant by the description, "a plain man, dwelling in tents," is not very apparent. It certainly does not simply describe a fact in his history, but rather a feature of his character. He loved the home life; while the burly Esau was abroad in the field, he loved to sit at home, meditating on many things, and amongst them the highest--a plain man, sound, pure, pious, as some commentators have it. The meaning of the word is certainly moral; "_integer vitæ_," may perhaps express it. The pilgrim Abraham was reproduced in Jacob in some of the main features of his character. He could understand, at any rate, what Esau apparently could never understand--the sacredness of a Divine vocation, the value of a birthright which carried with it a Divine benediction, and which was freighted with the Divine promise to the world. The grand distinction between the two men from the first was, that Jacob had faith, while Esau had none. Jacob had the heart of a pilgrim, Esau the heart of a "prince of this world." Jacob saw something behind the veil, which filled his soul with awe and made his life a constant aspiration; Esau saw that on this side the veil which filled him with the only pleasure which he cared to grasp at, and which taught him to look upon his brother's pilgrim lot and halting step as the sign of a broken and wasted life. Esau had his grand success in the princedom which he founded. You may read the list of the "dukes of Edom, who sprang from him," in the chapters which record his history. The sad and weary Jacob, standing before Pharaoh when his race was well nigh run, witnessed this confession, "_Few and evil have the days of the years of my life been, and have not attained unto the days of the years of the life of my fathers in the days of their pilgrimage_." His success lay beyond generations and ages, beyond the rising of the "Star that should come out of" his house, beyond the resurrection day. Jacob's life won no success but such as he shares with humanity in time and in eternity. His success is our success; in his blessing we are blessed. He stands forth in the early twilight of history as the typical child of the kingdom, the Prince of God, having power with two worlds. He is the representative of the elect men and races. This election is a broad, plain, principle of God's government. In all ages God is wont to call men, races, nations, out of the commonwealth of humanity, and to bring them near unto Himself. Their election is to service--high service, hard battle, stern endurance. First in honour, they must be first in perils, pains, temptations, and toils. Privilege is a word of abundant meaning in the book of God's dispensations; but it means privilege to be first--to lead the van, to clear the way, to open new paths for progress through the jungle of ignorance and night. Privilege to belong to a privileged class, to special advantage and certain success; privilege to run the race of life, light and trim against weighted competitors, is part of the devil's gospel, not of God's. Of this royal class, who are God's elect ministers to mankind in all their generations, Jacob is a typical representative. We learn from his character and history what God means by callings, birthrights, and blessings, and how much those whom He places in the front rank have to toil and suffer for the world. There is something in Jacob's character and in the development of his life which is significant for all time, which forecasts the course of Jewish and Christian ages, and prophesies in broad outline the method of God's universal culture of our race. At the same time the patriarch of Israel presents to us a wonderfully complete image of the race which sprang from him. We speak of Jacob rather than Abraham, as the founder of the people to which he gave his name; Abraham, the father of the faithful, is the founder of a yet richer and mightier line. But Jacob is the typical Jew. His life, like the life of his people, is simply incomprehensible to those who cannot realize a Divine vocation, who cannot cling to a Divine promise, who cannot struggle and suffer in faith for the sake of far-off divine results, whereby humanity at large would be blessed. Jacob's life was made what it was by the commerce which he held with the unseen God of his fathers. They have but a dim eye for the meaning of history who cannot see that, under all this man's questionable deeds and chequered experience, this faith in God was the deepest and strongest element in his nature. It ruled the critical moments of his life, it sustained him through all the stormiest scenes of his pilgrimage, and it shone out clearest and strongest in death. Scarcely had he gone forth an exile from the house of his fathers, when this fruitful commerce with God and the spiritual world was established. The beautiful narrative in Genesis casts a flood of light on his life. "_And Jacob went out from Beersheba, and went toward Haran. And he lighted upon a certain place, and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep. And he dreamed, and behold, a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and, behold, the angels of God ascending and descending on it. And, behold, the Lord stood above it, and said, I am the Lord God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac: the land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed; and thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and thou shalt spread abroad to the west, and to the east, and to the north, and to the south: and in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed. And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this land: for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of. And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not. And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven._" (Gen. xxviii. 10-17.) Precisely the same influence was formative of the character and destinies of his race. This high and grand quality, this openness to the influence of the "powers of the world to come," which is surely the grandest of all qualities, renders the highest Divine culture possible, with eternally blessed and glorious results. But it was marred and debased both in Jacob and in his people by the alloy of selfish, base, and carnal elements, of the earth earthy, which it was the great aim of all the Divine discipline under which he and his people suffered so sharply, to purge away and to destroy. And herein he represents a wider family than Israel. This Divine tincture, in a measure, is in all of us, mixed with the baser earthy matter. God's chosen ones, the subjects of His highest culture in all ages, have mostly the earthy element in full force, struggling with the Divine. No model men were the chosen people of ancient times, nor the saints of apostolic days. The one question is, Hast thou faith? "_Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief_," is substantially the confession of Jacob, of Israel, and of all who in any age form part of the Church of the living God. When Jacob, when the Jews, suffered themselves to forget the Divinity which was with them, which was in them, their superior power revealed itself as simply masterly craft. Jacob, viewed in one light, is just the most accomplished and successful schemer of his times; in another light, he is the grandest spiritual prince. His people repeat the anomaly. The race of the grandest spiritual power, of the most intense religious belief, have earned the character of the most accomplished hucksters and tricksters of the world. The power capable of the one, under the true inspiration, without it sank easily to the level of the other. There is a modern instance remarkably in point. In many respects the Scotch have succeeded to the character and position which the Jews occupied in ancient society. In both people there is the same grand spiritual power, the same prophetic spirit--Edward Irving was more after the fashion of an old Jewish prophet than any man, except perhaps Savonarola, whom we have had among us in these modern days--the same intense religious zeal, the same heroism in fighting and suffering for their faith, mixed up with the same worldly ambition, the same cautious and canny temper, the same facility of dispersion, and the same power of getting on and winning wealth and influence wherever God might cast their lot. Is there not a manifestation of the same law in the history of the universal Church? As with Jacob, as in Judaism, so in Christendom, the leading spiritual magnates, the prominent Churchmen of all ages, forsaking their true strength, divesting themselves of their true power as Christ's priests and kings, have sunk to the level of the most selfish schemers, and have won the reputation of the cleverest and wiliest statesmen of the world. Churchcraft in all ages has been held to be a shade more worldly, more subtle, more ruthless, than statecraft. The old proverb, "the corruption of the best is the worst" partly accounts for it; but something is due also to the principle whose workings we trace through Jacob's history, that the power which, inspired of God, is capable of Godlike activity, when the world or the devil get hold of it, is capable of all manner of worldly and devilish work with fell energy and success. But Jacob's life was purified and elevated as it passed through its tremendous discipline. The aged pilgrim, having won the title of Prince of God, stood before Pharaoh clothed with a dignity and power which made the world's mightiest monarch bend eagerly under the blessing of his hand. "_The Angel which redeemed me from all evil_," he spake of, when his eyes were growing dim in death. The history of his life is the history of that redemption, and this is its rich meaning for us. He sinned basely and shamefully, he suffered as few have suffered, and wrestled as few have strength to wrestle for the blessing which purified and redeemed his life. A sad, stricken, broken man, halting painfully on his thigh, he went on his way, but ennobled, purified, and saved. His life is a revelation of the way of God in the discipline of our spirits; how power gets educated and purified, and made meet at last for the work and the joy of eternity. So Judaism, as it struggled on and suffered, lost some of its baser elements, and came forth, developed, into a higher region of experience and power, in the life of the Christian Church. The study of the character of these two men is full of the richest interest and instruction; but our present purpose is with the elder, and this profoundly sad passage of his history. There is much, in the matter of both the birthright and the repentance of which our text speaks, which is frequently very grievously and even disastrously misunderstood, which is supposed to present ideas of the dealings of God with man which contradict the fundamental principles of the gospel, and casts no trifling stumbling-blocks before the steps of faith. That we may understand it truly let us consider-- I. That the rejection of the elder, and the election of the younger to honour and power--to all that the election of God could bring--by no means stands by itself in the history of the Divine dispensations; and it illustrates an important principle on which we will dwell for a moment before we pass on. We are tempted to think that, on the whole, Esau was a hardly used man, and that we have here an instance of the exercise of the Divine sovereignty which is harsh, arbitrary, and unjust. In the natural course of things, Esau would have had the birthright and all that it was worth. It is made to appear that by a purely arbitrary act Esau was robbed of it, while Jacob was endowed with it, having no sort of superior claim. Paul, in Romans ix. 10-13, is careful to insist that whatever the principle may be which is at work here, at any rate it is not merit, for the decree was pronounced long before any questions of merit could have force. The sovereignty of God is here the keystone of his argument: it is worth our while to discern, as far as we may, the reason on which this act of sovereignty rests. Of course the sympathy which we extend to Esau is based upon some idea of the rights of the elder born which seems to be instinctive in the human heart. This opens a wide question into which we have no need in this place to enter. The principle is recognised plainly enough in the word of God. In Deuteronomy xxi. 15-17, there is explicit legislation on the subject. "_If a man have two wives, one beloved, and another hated, and they have born him children, both the beloved and the hated; and if the firstborn son be her's that was hated: then it shall be, when he maketh his sons to inherit that which he hath, that he may not make the son of the beloved firstborn before the son of the hated, which is indeed the firstborn: but he shall acknowledge the son of the hated for the firstborn, by giving him a double portion of all that he hath: for he is the beginning of his strength; the right of the firstborn is his._" Joseph was evidently grieved when Jacob blessed the younger with the blessing of the firstborn, as though some sacred order had been violated: and the very word "firstborn" is employed as a term of dignity and pre-eminence both in the Old and the New Testament scriptures. I believe it to be for the good of society that this order should exist; that the eldest son should be looked upon as the representative of the family, while the younger sons should regard it as their lot--and not the worse lot in the sight of God and the angels--to carve out a new fortune for themselves. I believe this to be a Divine institution, and that God contemplated it when he established the family life as the basis of human society. But just because it is an order ordained of God, man shall not make an idol of it. A certain free play in the working of an order or an institution is essential to the well-being and progress of society. If God had so ordered all the dispensations, that the elder son was constituted invariably the organ of His communication with the household, the tribe, the race, it would have instituted a caste instead of a principle of order, and the great majority of our race would, in that case, be outcast from their birth. That this rule of the elder might not become a tyrannous thing, that the younger sons of the house might feel that they too had a man's part to play on the theatre of life, a part which might easily become grander and more glorious than that of the firstborn, God, at great critical moments, seems to have broken through the order, and made the younger the heir of the promises and the organ of His revelation to mankind. Jacob is a notable, a typical instance. The case of David is hardly less remarkable, 1 Sam. xvi. 6-13. And Paul in the spiritual family illustrates the same principle; the youngest born of the apostles, one in his own estimation hardly meet to be called an apostle, laboured more abundantly than they all, and was crowned with the most glorious success. But these arbitrary selections, as they appear at first sight, in reality, when we look more closely, are found to deliver the institution of primogeniture from arbitrariness; and they show to us that the Will which rules the world maintains its freedom under the guidance of its wisdom, and remits to no institution, however useful or honourable, the supreme power in the conduct of human affairs. It seems as though, knowing man's inherent propensity to formalism, the Lord had visibly broken through, from time to time, the very forms which He had Himself established, that He might show decisively that forms can have noble use alone in the hands of the free. Two singular instances of this, closely parallel to each other, are to be found in the numbers of the tribes of Israel and of the apostles of Christ. We talk familiarly of twelve tribes and of twelve apostles. But were there truly twelve or thirteen in each case? The question is by no means easy to answer. The tribe of Joseph was split into two. Theoretically, it is easy to regard the tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh as forming together the one tribe of Joseph. But, practically, we must remember that the tribe of Ephraim was the most powerful and masterful of the tribes until the rise of the house of David. If any tribe might be looked upon as complete, certainly it would be the tribe of Ephraim. So that, looking at it in the light of actual history, we should be compelled to reckon thirteen, but for the fact that the separation of the tribe of Levi for the priesthood reduced to twelve the number of tribes claiming tribal settlement in Canaan, and active in the spheres of industry, politics, and war. Similarly, it is an open question how far the place of Judas among the Twelve was lawfully filled up by the election of Matthias. It is far from clear that Peter and the infant Church were not acting hastily in this election and ordination of a successor to the apostate. We hear the name of Matthias only, and then he disappears from history. While we soon meet with an apostle of the Lord's election, who, if Matthias was duly called, raises the number of the apostles to thirteen. Is not this uncertainty, this fringe of doubt, left hanging around the numbers in these important and critical instances with a set purpose, that men might not make an idol of the number? That men might not think in the one case that the firstborn were the world's sole masters, nor dream in the other that a college of twelve was essential to the conduct of all the great spiritual movements of mankind. II. The question of the birthright seems to us to be one on which there is, popularly at any rate, a good deal of misunderstanding. We will look at it a little more closely, before we proceed to consider the unavailing repentance which will form the topic of a second discourse. There is something which reaches beyond the merely historico-representative character, in the history of these twain. Most of the earnest and generous students of the Old Testament would, we imagine, if they were to make frank confession, sympathise with Esau as a wronged and ill-used man. A sentiment of pity for the big, burly hunter, so helpless in the hands of the subtle and masterly Jacob, takes possession of us as we read the history. It seems a hard penalty to pay for a moment's weakness under the pressure of the pangs of hunger; while the crafty treacherous falsehood by which the blessing as well as the birthright was won from him enlists us wholly as to that transaction on his side. This sentiment of compassion is much strengthened by the vague impression that, through the craft of Jacob, Esau suffered a terrible and irreparable loss. And younger sons, as they see the paternal acres, the family mansion, and the dignity of the family name, passing to the elder, are prone to make the same moan, and to reckon themselves the predestined victims of the social order of the world. Learn from this history how the matter really stands. Esau had all the birthright which he honestly cared for; while Jacob had simply that birthright which, blessed be Christ, is within reach of every child of every household upon earth. Do not waste your pity upon Esau, on the ground of what he lost. Pity him rather on the score of what he did not care to win. It would be a great mistake to suppose that Jacob's treachery left the elder brother a broken and ruined man; on the contrary, the ruin in the worldly sense fell on the man who won the birthright; and though the blessing was added, he went a broken and halting man to the end of his days. That exceeding great and bitter cry, which was wrung from the disinherited when he saw the paternal blessing following the birthright, did not continue to wail through his life. He was a warmhearted, loving, and generous man, though of fiery passion. The loss of the good old Isaac's benediction struck him to the heart; but we are wrong in supposing that it remained a burden on his life. Nothing of the kind; it had been better for him if it had been so. But the fury seems soon to have passed away, probably too his regrets. He became a chieftain of wealth and renown, rich, strong, illustrious. We meet with him again, and there is no trace of a shadow over his life. "_And Jacob lifted up his eyes, and looked, and, behold, Esau came, and with him four hundred men. And he divided the children unto Leah, and unto Rachel, and unto the two handmaids. And he put the handmaids and their children foremost, and Leah and her children after, and Rachel and Joseph hindermost. And he passed over before them, and bowed himself to the ground seven times, until he came near to his brother. And Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck, and kissed him: and they wept. And he lifted up his eyes, and saw the women and the children; and said, Who are those with thee? And he said, The children which God hath graciously given thy servant. Then the handmaidens came near, they and their children, and they bowed themselves. And Leah also with her children came near, and bowed themselves: and after came Joseph near and Rachel, and they bowed themselves. And he said, What meanest thou by all this drove which I met? And he said, These are to find grace in the sight of my lord. And Esau said, I have enough, my brother; keep that thou hast unto thyself._" (Gen. xxxiii. 1-9.) "_And Esau took his wives, and his sons, and his daughters, and all the persons of his house, and his cattle, and all his beasts, and all his substance, which he had got in the land of Canaan; and went into the country from the face of his brother Jacob. For their riches were more than that they might dwell together; and the land wherein they were strangers could not bear them, because of their cattle. Thus dwelt Esau in mount Seir. Esau is Edom._" (Gen. xxxvi. 6-8.) Read the catalogue of his princely descendants, and remember that Edom played a splendid part in the political, and especially the commercial, history of the oriental world. Esau lost that, and that alone, which his soul had no love for, and no power to use to honour. But he won that in which his soul delighted; he passed a lifetime of splendid and careless prosperity, and in a good old age went down to his grave in peace. And what did Jacob win by his birthright--his rights of the firstborn? Simply the power to become God's pilgrim, the power to win a lofty height of honour and renown by life-long patience, by heroic struggle, by wearing, wasting toils. What good shall this birthright do to me, said the hungry hunter, mad for the mess of pottage which the thrifty Jacob sold. But what good did the birthright do to the supplanter who bought it, and filched the blessing with it? None, absolutely none, in the sense in which they talk of "good" who are reckoning gains. It drove him forth from the very hour when he stole his father's blessing, an exile to a distant land. It made him for long years, his best years, a hireling in his kinsman's house. It exposed him to precisely the kind of trick which he himself had practised, in a matter of yet deeper moment to his affection; for it imperilled the winning of the woman whom he tenderly loved. After he had served for long years as a hireling for a hireling's wage, it brought him back at length to the threshold of the promised Canaan. Rich in the wealth of the East, he drew near the borders. His soul was filled with perturbation when he heard that Esau was coming to meet him. The wrong which his brother had suffered rose up freshly before him in all its disgraceful features, and he could hardly believe in the hunter's generous forgiveness as he cowered a suppliant at his feet. Entered at length on the land of his inheritance, discord breaks out in his home and embitters his life. He is struck to the heart through his dearest affections. "There I buried Rachel" is the epitaph of a great agony; and when Joseph was not, he felt that he should go down mourning to the grave. At length the land of his inheritance refused to sustain him; and the weary old pilgrim, with one foot in the grave, goes forth once more an exile--the second and final exile--into a land where the sons for whom he won and held the birthright were destined for centuries to writhe and moan as slaves. What good did the birthright do to him? If you look at the things which are seen, which are mostly in view when birthrights are in question, Esau, the hardly used man, the victim, had most unquestionably the preferable lot. The time came when he stood as a prince before Jacob, and Jacob bowed himself at his feet. There was no malignant spirit at work here, as we are sometimes tempted to conceive of it, making Esau's life wretched and broken, while Jacob's was heaped high with all which could gladden a grasping and sensual heart; on the contrary, the chosen son won only that which Esau would not have cared to lift if it had been laid at his very feet. Esau lost only that which would have been life-long a torment to his easy, jovial, sensual nature, which he would have prayed to get rid of, which he would in some way have got rid of, if it had clung to him, no matter at what cost. There were some, remember, who, finding their herds of swine in peril, prayed even the merciful Saviour "to depart out of their coasts." Jacob seized a bitter inheritance as far as this world was concerned, by his clever impersonation; while Rebekah, who prompted and managed it, paid a yet heavier price for it; in this world she never saw her darling more. What he won was power with God and with man as a spiritual prince; power to pray, and to conquer by prayer; power to trust and to hope in God's mercy through stern struggles and bitter miseries; and power to reach a hand through death and lay up the hope of his soul with God on high. The heart which could crave for a spiritual thing, which pined to be a child of promise, which clung to the traditions of his fathers and the hope of his house, all which Esau scorned, God trained by suffering to aim continually at higher and yet higher things. He won, in a word, a high place in God's high school of discipline, and a name of renown as a spiritual hero in time and in eternity. This was practically his gain; and it is precisely this which God places fairly within your reach. You too may be the sons of promise; "power to become the sons of God" is the birthright which in Christ is yours. Jacob, no doubt, and most justly, seems to you the grander man as compared with Esau, and his life the nobler and more glorious life. Then live it. All that he won you may win. Make yourself a prince of God by wrestling prayer. The birthright of broad acres and family honours may pass to your elder. The birthright of hard work, stern struggle, strong effort, high aspiration, disciplined power, victorious faith, eternal renown and joy, is yours. Christ has won it, and freely bestows it--no younger son's portion, but the birthright of the eldest, the only-begotten son, glorious through time and eternity. It may be that many a younger son may read these words; many a one who may be tempted to bemoan himself that the younger son's portion, the lot of toil and struggle, has fallen to him in life. Well! if it be so, bless God for it. If the lot of the younger be toil and struggle, if it falls to them mainly to open new paths, not without peril and pain, to win by earnest and patient effort strength and wisdom, and to take the leader's place in the battle-field of life, don't moan over it if it has fallen to you, but again I say bless God for it. The nobler, the richer, the lordlier inheritance, is yours. Pity, do not despise, but pity the elders who sit clothed in purple and fine linen, faring sumptuously every day. It would be a strange history if it were fairly written out, the history of younger sons, with a just estimate of what they have done in comparison with the elder for the service and progress of mankind. The eldest born, the heirs, with the inheritance which the past has lazily left to them; the younger sons, with the domain of wisdom, strength, and influence, which their own right hand, God helping them, has won. If Jacob seems to you the petted child of fortune, the chosen favourite of heaven, and Esau the wretched reprobate outcast, spurned alike of man and of God, then take Jacob's inheritance; take it, it is fairly yours. Spurn Esau's, which the devil is putting into your hand. Be your choice the pilgrim's toils and struggles, the name of renown, the everlasting portion; and with the words of the pilgrim's hymn upon your lips pass on your way. "Contented now upon my thigh I halt, till life's short journey end; All helplessness, all weakness, I On Thee alone for strength depend; Nor have I power from Thee to move; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. Lame as I am, I take the prey; Hell, earth, and sin, with ease o'ercome; I leap for joy, pursue my way, And, as a bounding hart, fly home; Through all eternity to prove Thy nature and Thy name is Love." VI. NO PLACE OF REPENTANCE. "He found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears."--HEB. xii. 17. We have shown in the last discourse that a close examination of the question of the birthright lightens some of the deeper shadows which lie upon it. Comparing the outward and visible aspect of the two men--the man who sold the birthright and lost the blessing, and the man who won them both--it would appear that the balance of worldly prosperity was altogether on Esau's side. Esau lost just that which his soul despised, and he won what his soul lusted after, wealth, power, and the position of a prince. He lived prosperously and splendidly, and died peacefully we may believe, with few regrets. There is certainly nothing in the few words which are devoted to his subsequent history to suggest that he lived a disappointed ruined man. On the contrary, he seems to have displayed on his meeting with Jacob that magnanimity and generosity which shallow natures are wont to manifest in a prosperous lot. It is just the glow of the sunlight reflected from their lives: the rippling shallows make a braver show in the sunlight than the still deep pools; and Esaus are gayer objects to look at, when all goes well with them, than the careworn halting pilgrim, who bears on his brow, and no sunlight can efface it, the marks of many toils and tears. But be that as it may, there can be no question that the Bible does not picture the life of Esau as a broken and ruined life, as far as this world is concerned. The man grew rich and powerful, so rich that he could afford to make light of Jacob's presents, so powerful that Jacob's company was helpless in his hand. It is written that once the children of Israel cried for flesh, and "_God gave them flesh, but sent leanness into their souls_." Something like this was the history of Esau, and of how many a worldly-hearted man whom fortune loads with gifts, while the springs of his higher life sink low and die. And his race prospered. As Jacob was to Esau, quite the weaker and more dependent of the two, so when centuries passed was Israel to Edom. The descendants of Esau had attained to such strength and political influence that they were able to bar the gates of their land against the elect host, pilgrims through the wilderness like their sire, angel-led, and saved by hope. On the whole then, for himself and his descendants, his life must be pronounced a worldly success. Jacob, on the other hand, had to reap life-long the bitter fruits of his craft and fraud. His life was a weary, wasting struggle with selfish craft and evil passion in all who surrounded him. He spent the best years of his life in exile, and stood before Pharaoh, in his own judgment prematurely aged and decayed. He won a name and a place which called him to submit to a searching discipline, to live the life of a pilgrim, to dwell as a stranger in his promised land, and to die in exile at last. The world was fuller to him of sorrows and toils than of benedictions, and the crown which the Prince of God at last was able to bind around his brow was set with many a thorn. But he won the power to follow the Angel, the Angel which redeemed him from all evil; his life, halting as was his step, was a noble spiritual progress from strength to strength, from victory to victory, till he passed up to receive the prize of his conflict in a world and from a hand which Esau "despised." Looked at in the light of this world's interests then, some of the darkest difficulties vanish as we read the record of this birthright lost and won. But then there is Esau himself, the man who despised his birthright, who counted himself unworthy of the honour to which God had ordained him, incapable of the glorious toil and patience to which God had called him, and careless of the prize which God had placed within reach of his hand. The life of this man, from the higher point of view, was as sad, wretched, and faithless, as was the pilgrim Jacob's from the lower. He won his wealth and his princedom by his energy of hand and will in all things that pertained to this life; but he let all the interests and hopes of the higher life fade out of the horizon, and the crown of his spiritual manhood slip from the grasp of his careless hand. He touched it, but he could not hold it. What good shall this birthright do to me, he moaned when the mess of pottage steamed before his hungry senses; and the crown rolled in the dust. There is the man Esau, under all his possession and princedom, in the sight of God a very wretched and poverty-stricken outcast of the kingdom whose citizens believe in truth, duty, spiritual effort, conflict, prayer, self-sacrifice, heaven, and God. About the case of Esau personally there are many heavy difficulties. His course seems to have been in a measure marked out from his birth: "_The elder shall serve the younger_" was said of the twin brethren while they were yet in the womb: and some such relation of the two seems to be involved in the destiny which a higher Will had from the first decreed. And this opens the vision of an abyss of mystery, into the depths of which no finite intellect can search--the relation of connate constitution and temperament to character, and the measure in which this bears on the supreme fact of man's being, responsibility. Responsibility, implying freedom in the largest sense, we hold to be the corner stone of our dignity as men. If man be not free, with the everlasting crown of freedom within his reach as the prize of all his toils and struggles, why! there is not a cur that prowls about the streets whose lot is not more enviable. In that case man would be a combatant by a profound instinct of his nature, struggling sternly life-long against innumerable evils, with nothing after all to struggle for; pressed, crushed, by the weight of intolerable ills, with no hope to sanctify and no harvest to repay his pain. Who would not "rather be a dog and bay the moon," than such a creature? For freedom, and the responsibility which it brings, as the fundamental spiritual fact of our nature, we contend earnestly, yea vehemently, as for the only justification of God's constitution of the human world, the only key to the woes which He lets loose to afflict it and the discords with which He allows it to be torn. And for the reality of this moral freedom we shall have to do stern battle with the school who are urging now, with great subtilty and force, that all the moral phenomena of man's nature are just the finest efflorescence of the nerve matter of which his intelligence is manufactured, the cream of the milk of his natural law. But it cannot be questioned for a moment that men appear to be under various conditions of advantage, as we might call it, with regard to the exercise of their freedom and its fruits. The differences arise partly, but not we believe chiefly, from circumstance. The child of a household of thieves or vagrants, for instance, seems to have but a poor chance in life compared with the children who grow up, pure, cultivated, comely, and pious, in your serene, happy, and orderly homes. But the more serious source of this inequality is to be found in character and temperament, inbred lusts, passions, tempers, and proclivities which may make the life of a man one long agony of struggle and failure, while another man more fairly endowed may find from the first the way of wisdom a way of pleasantness and all her paths paths of peace. A man born with a brutal nature and feeble spiritual energy, or with a native propensity, as far as we can see, to certain forms of sin--the temptation to which exercises the kind of fascination over his will which the serpent's eye is said to exert over the victim bird, but which another man would burst through as easily as Samson flung off the withes of the Philistine harlot--is, one is tempted to think, at a terrible disadvantage in life's battle, compared with the man who has a halo of saintly glory around his brow from his birth. It is a dark, sad mystery, much of which, after all our brooding over it, we must leave in trust with God. I believe firmly that inequalities arising out of circumstances are after all far less real than they appear. The facilities and opportunities for a fair unfolding of life are not so uneven, in the various classes and callings, as they seem. There must be some deep meaning in the Saviour's words, "_Blessed are ye poor_," and in the terrible sentence, "_How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God_." There is an amount of practical Christianity--daily, hourly trust in God and ministry to each other--developed by the circumstances of the lot of the poor, which we may fairly set against the intelligent beliefs, the doctrinal correctness, and the measured charities of the richer class, as in the sight of God of equal or of higher price. There is nothing in a workman's lot or toil, to remove him farther from the gate of the kingdom than rich men, nobles, priests, or kings; nay, the balance is altogether in his favour. But, alas! there is a class far below the workman, a vast class, vastest in the great cities where Christian civilization is at the height of its splendour and power, whose lot it is terribly difficult to comprehend in a theodicy, and of whom it is hard to believe that they are not from the first at a fearful disadvantage as respects nearness to the gate of the kingdom of heaven. But the gravest side of the difficulty is not circumstantial; it concerns nature and temperament. Though perhaps, if we could search a little more deeply, we should see that each type of character has its own peculiar class of difficulties and temptations; and that the most beautiful and saintlike have their dread perils of shipwreck, which make their course as arduous as that of the souls which bear about with them a great load of fleshliness and groan under the bondage of tyrannous passions and lusts. Still it is a truth which is not without its awful significance, that temperaments, passions, and powers, are very variously distributed to men, while the burden of existence is laid equally upon all, and "every soul must bear its own burden" in time and in eternity. These things lend infinite meaning to the word "Father" when uttered by Divine lips. Like as a father pitieth his children, the Father pitieth and beareth with us: "he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are dust." It is a father's compassion, tenderness, and equity which we need, to be the basis of our confidence and hope. A father considers with fatherly care, interest, and love our individual endowments, difficulties, and temptations, in ruling and in judging us; and He will ordain our eternal state with a merciful wisdom, which has to satisfy not a rigid justice only but the hopes and yearnings of a paternal heart. If it were not for the belief that the bar of judgment before which we shall stand is a wise and righteous fatherly heart, the best endowed might well faint under the burden of existence, while the worst would moan under its agony and curse the day on which they saw the sun. There are some very terrible sentences in the word of God, which utter the moan, not of the worst men, but of the best and noblest with whose history it deals. "_After this opened Job his mouth, and cursed his day. And Job spake, and said, Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said, There is a man child conceived. Let that day be darkness; let not God regard it from above, neither let the light shine upon it. Let darkness and the shadow of death stain it; let a cloud dwell upon it; let the blackness of the day terrify it. As for that night, let darkness seize upon it; let it not be joined unto the days of the year; let it not come into the number of the months. Lo, let that night be solitary, let no joyful voice come therein._" (Job iii. 1-7.) "_Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul; Which long for death, but it cometh not: and dig for it more than for hid treasures; Which rejoice exceedingly, and are glad when they can find the grave? Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in? For my sighing cometh before I eat, and my roarings are poured out like the waters. For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me. I was not in safety, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet; yet trouble came._" (Job iii. 20-26.) "_Cursed be the day wherein I was born: let not the day wherein my mother bare me be blessed. Cursed be the man who brought tidings to my father, saying, A man child is born unto thee; making him very glad. And let that man be as the cities which the Lord overthrew, and repented not: and let him hear the cry in the morning, and the shouting at noontide. Because he slew me not from the womb; or that my mother might have been my grave, and her womb to be always great with me. Wherefore came I forth out of the womb to see labour and sorrow, that my days should be consumed with shame?_" (Jer. xx. 14-18.) These were not bad men, crushed under the burden of their own iniquity, but just, upright, and God-fearing men, who felt that existence was too terrible for them under conditions which hid from them the Father's ruling hand. And if they shrank from the burden of conscious responsible being, how shall weaker men escape its terror, but by taking refuge under the shield of a Father's equity and love! But these thoughts lend a most blessed meaning to the words of the Saviour: "_Then answered Jesus and said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, The Son can do nothing of himself, but what he seeth the Father do: for what things soever he doeth, these also doeth the Son likewise. For the Father loveth the Son, and showeth him all things that himself doeth: and he will show him greater works than these, that ye may marvel. For as the Father raiseth up the dead, and quickeneth them; even so the Son quickeneth whom he will. For the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son: That all men should honour the Son, even as they honour the Father. He that honoureth not the Son, honoureth not the Father which hath sent him. Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life. Verily, verily, I say unto you, The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live. For as the Father hath life in himself; so hath he given to the Son to have life in himself; and hath given him authority to execute judgment also, because he is the Son of man._" (John v. 19-27.) "THE FATHER HATH COMMITTED ALL JUDGMENT UNTO THE SON." "BECAUSE HE IS THE SON OF MAN." Because He can take a man's measure as well as a Divine measure of a man's weaknesses, perils, and temptations; can measure, as a man, man's need of mercy, and utter the Divine Father's judgment from pitiful human lips. Few words, as we pore over these dark mysteries of existence, are so full of consolation and hope as these words of the Saviour upon judgment. We can bear the darkness, we can bear the anguish, if we are called to pass through it, because we know that the ordering of our destinies is in the hand of One who mingles with a brother's sympathy and tenderness the Divine Father's equity and love. But the text does not touch upon these difficulties of Esau's history. It treats him broadly as the typical instance of the reprobate, the man who by his own base acts has cast himself out of the position for which he was born and trained; who by one decisive manifestation of his character and propensities has shut himself out from a high career which opened fairly before him, and who finds no means of reversing the decree which excludes him, though he seeks it carefully with tears. It opens a very terrible vision of the inexorable rigour with which deeds done, facts when they are once fairly established, react upon our lives. But the words are often perverted to yet darker meanings--suggesting visions of unpardonable sins, of fruitless agonies of personal repentance,--with which souls under strong conviction not seldom torment themselves, and with which the text has absolutely nothing whatever to do. A man seeking change of heart with an agony of tears, pleading with God to renew him, to restore him, and to cherish him to new life and hope, yet spurned from the gate of mercy, flung forth accursed from the arms of love, is a picture which, blessed be God, has no original in the Divine word. No! thus runs the gospel: "_Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light._" "_Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you._" "_For every one that asketh receiveth, and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened._" "_If ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?_" "_Whoso cometh unto me I will in no wise cast him out._" "_This man, because he continueth ever, hath an unchangeable priesthood; wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them._" If any who reads these words has ever made this text a stumbling-block, has ever suffered the devil to thrust the thought into his heart that he has sinned too deeply for repentance, and wandered too far for return--that he can but lie moaning and weeping like Esau, and pleading with anguished heart for repentance, to find his moans rained back in anathemas, and his tears with the fire of the wrath of the Lamb,--let him sweep back the thought as an unholy thing to the devil who inspired it, and cling to the outstretched hand of Him who "_will not break the bruised reed, who will not quench the smoking flax, but will bring forth judgment unto truth_." The text has literally nothing to do with personal repentance before God. No man can spiritually seek a place of repentance carefully with tears, and fail to find it, for the very act is an act of repentance. I do not care to discuss the question whether the repentance here spoken of is a change in the mind of Isaac, or of Esau himself. In either case the meaning is substantially the same. He found no means of reversing the decree, of winning the blessing of the firstborn, of inducing his father to recall the benediction which had been treacherously diverted to the younger, though he sought it carefully with tears. If it were possible that this text, in all its dreadful meaning, could bear on personal repentance for sin, and frighten men from it lest after all it should be hopeless, it would deny the fundamental ideas and promises of the gospel; nay, it would itself "_trample under foot the Son of God, and count the blood of the covenant wherewith he was sanctified an unholy thing, and do despite to the Spirit of grace_." No! the text is a very solemn and even terrible warning of the irrevocable character of deeds done in folly or frenzy; the inexorable character of the fate which takes possession of them when once they have gone forth from us, and which makes by them, it may be in spite of our tears and prayers and desperate struggles, a complete revolution in our lives. Esau's history is but the repetition of the history of the fall. And it is a history which we all constantly repeat in the critical moments of our lives. Esau fell as Adam fell, and fundamentally for the same reason. Adam despised his birthright, and thought that there was a readier way to the satisfaction of the desires of his heart. Esau by one act changed, not his own history and destiny only, but the destiny of a great nation; Adam changed, by his one sin, the destiny of a great world. "_Wherefore_," says the apostle, "_as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin, and so death passed upon all men_." (Rom. v. 12.) Adam, like Esau, saw through the eyes of Eve that the "_tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise_." What good shall my birth-right do to me, he said practically when he saw the forbidden fruit, and he sold it; and that moment's work for him, for you, for me, for all the myriad human generations, can never be recalled in time or in eternity. There is something very much nobler here than in Esau's profaneness. It was not in a moment of sensual lust that our first father sold his own birthright and ours. The desire of wisdom, or what he took for wisdom, had much to do with the force of the temptation; but the essence of the matter is the same: Adam and Esau both chose, in the place of the good which God had provided for them, a good which they provided for themselves. Bitterly Adam, like Esau, repented of his folly, and sought to undo his work. When the wilderness lay cold and bare before him, and the flaming sword of the cherubim guarded the backward path to the bright abodes which he had lost for ever, he measured for the first time the full significance of his transgression. And when the sun set angry and lurid on the wilderness, and the moaning winds swept hoarsely over the waste, while a shudder shook the breast of nature as the tempest clouds gathered in the sullen sky, Adam caught the infection of the tremor, and watched with quivering eye the awful conflict of the forces which had broken loose from his allegiance, and which seemed to come thundering on as the doomsmen of the death which his Judge had decreed. Think you that then his heart did not cling to the memories of the splendours and serenities of Eden with passionate longing; think you that he did not prostrate himself in an agony of frenzied supplication that the barred portal might be unclosed again, that the fiery sword might be sheathed, that the flowers of Eden might again spring beneath his footsteps, while the balmy breezes whispered a blessing as they played around the field of his labour and his bower of rest? And what has been the long and bitter cry of man's sad history? O God, reverse the sentence, reopen the gate of paradise, revoke the curse, let the sunlight of Eden shine once more on a holy, peaceful, and happy world! This is the great burden of human literature in all its deeper and more sacred utterances; it is the meaning of all the world's great poems, the refrain of all its immortal hymns. Recall the curse! let life again become pure, peaceful, and blessed! Men, nations, ages have agonized, over the sentence; but they have found no place of repentance, no means to change the mind of the Judge or their own condition as the subjects of it, though they have sought it carefully with tears. Esau was the rejected of the birthright; you and I are the rejected of Eden. Sinners we are by nature and proclivity, with a sinner's burdens, a sinner's experience, and a sinner's doom. And there is no way to change the past, to rid us of the burden, to cancel the sentence, to mitigate the anguish of a life on which the devil has seared the shameful brand; no way to force the barred gates of paradise, even by the banded energies of a pain-racked, sin-tormented world. And I suppose that the private experience of most men furnishes the key to this. Who has not known something of the agony with which one dark deed of passion, lust, falsehood, knavery, baseness, can torture a human heart? Look back. Is there nothing in the past, rising up at this moment in the full menace of its hateful form, clear as the ghost of Banquo before his murderer's sight, which you would give your wealth, nay, some of you would give worlds if they had them, to undo; if conscience might but recover its serenity, and life its brightness; if the leprous flesh of their experience might again become, like Naaman's, fair, pure, and sweet as the flesh of a little child. It is not every Gehazi whose leprosy comes out in his flesh, and makes him loathsome to his fellows. How many Gehazis move about among us, burying their leprosy within, but none the less plague-stricken and perilous! Happy those who have no dark chambers in their being, haunted by the skeletons of their dead lusts, sins, or crimes--skeletons which never fail to come forth at their banquets to scare them, choosing ruthlessly the hours of their festivity and triumph to murder all their joys. There may be some readers of these words who know this in all its horror, in whom the anguish of the irrevocable and irreparable has killed all the joy of life--a word spoken, a passion indulged, a deed done, which in one brief moment has drawn a brooding shadow over the once sunlit landscape of their lives. And you have wept and prayed, lying prostrate on the cold, ground, beseeching the merciful God that He would blot out the record from your memory and from the lives which it has embittered and cursed; but "the heaven has been as brass, the earth beneath has been as iron." The word "irrevocable" has forced its meaning upon you in all its terrible sternness, and you have needed no commentary to expound, or preacher to drive home, the meaning of the sentence, "_Beware lest there be any fornicator, or profane person, as Esau, who for one morsel of meat sold his birthright. For ye know how that afterward, when he would have inherited the blessing, he was rejected: for he found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears._" And if there may be some readers who know this experience in all its horror, there are a multitude who know it in its more modified forms, and who find it terrible enough even then. Who has not had forced upon him the misery of regrets or remorse, the causes of which remain unalterable, fixed as the stars in their orbits, and the fruits of which leave deep traces on the experience and the destiny through time, yes, and through eternity? Did David, think you, ever look coldly or carelessly on his bold soldier's bloody grave? Was there no sad shadow, to his eye, around the beauty of Bathsheba's child, which no murmured "Jedidiah" could chase away? Was his home ever free from the shadow, from the hour when Nathan's "Thou art the man" drove conviction home, and wrung from him the most bitter cry of a sinner's anguish which has found record in the literature of our world? Few things in the book of history are more terrible than the sorrow which entered David's home, the discord which rent his kingdom, the anguish which pierced his heart, from the hour of his great transgression. A sad, careworn, broken man, he finished his course and went down to his grave. Compare the David of 1 Kings i., ii., with the young shepherd in his early prime, if you would estimate the havoc which one great sin may make in a noble life. Ah! in a measure we all know it, in some form or other; words, deeds, outbursts of passion, which have wrung dear hearts with anguish, sundered precious bonds of love, have sullied reputation, clouded prospects, withered hopes, or blighted the promise of lives which we were bound to cherish, or of our own. And we would give worlds to blot out their record, and to repair the evil which has been wrought; but it remains engraven with an iron pen in the rock for ever: man cannot obliterate it, and God will not. To complete the subject, let me ask you to consider two thoughts. 1. These dread seasons of crucial trial, on which the future of life, nay of eternity, is hanging, never come upon us in a moment. It would appear from the text that one morsel of meat settled the question of the birthright; that one hard, hot morning's chase settled the destinies of peoples for all time. That is one side of it, the outside. But the real settlement of the question was made already; any trifle will serve to disclose what has already established itself as the permanent character within. Esau had nursed his contempt for the birthright by a thousand daily lustings and cravings; many a bitter scoff too he had flung at Jacob's pious and meditative mood. Things like this never stand alone. The life of the chosen family is described in words of wonderful beauty and power in Heb. xi. 8-14. "_By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise. For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God. Through faith also Sara herself received strength to conceive seed, and was delivered of a child when she was past age, because she judged him faithful who had promised. Therefore sprang there even of one, and him as good as dead, so many as the stars of the sky in multitude, and as the sand which is by the sea shore innumerable. These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country._" This life Jacob believed in profoundly; this life Esau as profoundly despised. He despised it all, and made his contempt abundantly apparent. "_And Esau was forty years old when he took to wife Judith the daughter of Beeri the Hittite, and Bashemath the daughter of Elon the Hittite. Which were a grief of mind unto Isaac and to Rebekah_" (Gen. xxvi. 34, 35). This shows how thoroughly out of sympathy with the spirit of the chosen race he was from the first, and remained through life. All his sympathies and associations were with the pagans around him. Jacob was the true heir of the promise, for he believed in it; Esau its outcast, for he despised it, and had despised it from the first. His every act had expressed his contempt of it, and the sale of the birthright for a mess of pottage but completed the witness that he was a profane person, a pagan at heart. These moments mark the crises for which a long train of thought and habit has prepared. Many a secret sin, born of luxury and nursed by royal power and splendour, broke out into the daylight when David looked upon Bathsheba, and filled his life with unutterable sorrow and shame. God takes no man in a hasty moment and brands him reprobate. A thousand daily touches through long years have shaped the image which there reveals itself, and on which is moulded the everlasting destiny. The little sins of life are busily, hour by hour, creating the great sins. The small habits and actions, which we allow to pass unrebuked--they seem to be such trifles--soon pass away beyond the power of memory to recall; but they leave their ineffaceable trace on our constitution and character, and lay silently the train of some great outburst of lust, passion, or wickedness, like Esau's or David's. Then is written a record on our nature and destiny which one day we shall agonize to blot out; but the inexorable eye looks coldly down on the frenzied pleader, and the stony lips fashion themselves into a voiceless "Too late!" Meet sin, meet all the devil's seductions and enticements, sternly on the threshold, and the citadel remains for ever sure. 2. The irrevocable is not the irreparable, through the abounding mercy and grace of God. _Things_ cannot be obliterated or abolished. They remain, and their record remains, for ever. But, blessed be God, they may be transmuted, and wear Divine forms of beauty and joy. And this is what redemption means. Eden is closed for ever. To abolish the condition of man as a sinner, otherwise than by one grand sentence of doom which would abolish his existence as a creature, is beyond the power even of heaven. A sinner's lot you inherit, a sinner's experience you must know, a sinner's agony you must taste, a sinner's horror of darkness you must pass through--to the pit, if the birthright never again seems to you beautiful and glorious, a thing to be won by toil and tears and prayers; but if your soul pines in its rioting, if it sickens in its worldly wealth and splendour, if the question forces itself upon you as it never seems to have forced itself upon Esau, "_What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul, or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?_" then the sinner's anguish, from which there is no escape for any one of us, may be made by Christ's dear love the strait gate to the splendour, the glory, the bliss of heaven. And this is Redemption. Divine love, love that could die, love that _did_ die, that its beloved ones might not die, is the solvent which transmutes all the shame and pain of sin to heavenly glory and bliss. "_Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound; that as sin had reigned unto death, even so might grace reign through righteousness, unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord._" Here is no reversal, no obliteration of the past, mark you; the thing that was is and shall be; no power in the universe can blot out its trace. The experience of a sinner is part of your being, and in its transmuted form must remain part of your being, through eternity. These wounds and sores of sin, suffused by Christ's great love, become the lustrous pearls of heaven. Nothing in the past, I care not how dark or damning it may be, is irreparable by the love which "_endured the cross and despised the shame_," that it might win the right and the power to redeem. There is no sin whose stains may not be wept out at the Redeemer's feet. There is no life which may not win "She hath loved much, for she hath much forgiven" as its record, earnest of a rapture of eternal bliss. But dream not that the path can be an easy one, and that penitence can transmute the sorrow into joy by a word. You have done that whose issues could only be undone by the agony and bloody sweat of Gethsemane, the cross and passion of Calvary; and you too must die, die to sin, that you may live to God. The flesh, which has despised your birthright, must be mortified, crucified, by grace. "_I am crucified with Christ_" you must learn to say; you must know the fellowship of the sufferings of your Master, and taste the cup of which He drank the dregs, or the lost birthright is lost for ever, and the deed done on earth remains irreparable as well as irrevocable through eternity. VII. THE CURSE OF THE GROUND. "Cursed is the ground for thy sake."--GEN. iii. 17. Are these words part of a curse, or part of a blessing? Are they a sentence on man, the doom of his transgression, or the first stage of a process destined to issue in the redemption of the heir of promise from sorrow and sin for ever? Few phrases are more frequently on our lips than "the curse of labour." Men, women, yea little children, overburdened and crushed by the stern toil which is the necessity of their existence, easily catch up the sentence, and submit to the necessity in the sullen bitter mood with which a slave accepts his chastisement, or a criminal the sentence of doom. Few things are more firmly fixed in our minds than that the toil and the strain of life are God's curse on transgression, having merciful bearings and issues no doubt for the man who lovingly submits to the discipline, but in themselves evil and hateful, born of sin, and a part of death. I propose to examine this idea in the present discourse, and to endeavour to estimate this curse upon the ground in its bearings on man's development as a spiritual being, and his relations to his Redeemer, God. That toil, care, and pain spring out of the one great act of transgression which every life repeats is the plain and indisputable affirmation of the word of God. The dark tones of man's present life gloom against a background of radiant brightness and beauty; in the childhood of humanity, as in the life of every human child, Eden shines behind all the toil and sorrow of the world. There has been a grand cataclysm in man and in nature. The structure of the world has been rent and contorted, and the fractures and contortions repeat themselves in life. "_Sin entered into the world, and death by sin_;" "_God made man upright, but he sought out many inventions_," are the sentences of a sound philosophy, estimating the facts of consciousness and history, as well as statements of the word of God. There has been a fall, a rupture, by the sinful guilty action of the freewill of the creature, of the pristine perfect relation between man and God and man and the world. Transgression, the sinful exercise of freedom, is the fundamental fact of man's present nature and life; and the sentence on the transgressor, the inevitable sentence, "_the soul that sinneth it shall die_," lies at the root of all the bitter anguish of the world. There are abundant signs of the action of terribly destructive and desolating forces in the physical structure of the world. The earth has been torn and convulsed as by the spasm of some great agony, and the signs of it lie thick around. Huge beds of rock, thousands of feet in thickness, have been cracked and shivered like potsherds; streams of molten metal have been injected into the fissures, and have surged through the rents and swept vast floods of burning lava over the smiling plains. There must have been times in the history of the development of this earth, fair and calm as it lies now under the sun, when its whole structure must have been shaken to the very centre; when there was dread peril lest, like some lost planet, it should be shattered into fragments and fill its orbit with a cloud of wreck. But some sure hand has helped earth's travail, and has brought forth out of the chaos of struggle and storm an orderly, smiling, serene, and beautiful world. The signs of past agony are there, to those whose eye can pierce the surface; but a loving hand has clothed it all with a glow of beauty and a robe of grace. The regions where the convulsion was fiercest, where the scars are deepest, are the regions of glorious mountain beauty, whither pilgrims wend as to nature's most sacred shrine. The rents and chasms, clothed with the most splendid forests, with streams leaping and sparkling through the emerald meadows to the hollows below, breathe nothing but beauty, and stir all hearts to joy and praise. The touch of the destroyer is everywhere masked by beauty; and out of the chaos of confusion God has drawn forth, what never could have been but for the chaos, the infinite variety, the grace, the splendour, the glory of the world. This mystery of order and beauty, of cosmos, which reveals itself to us in nature, unveils itself too in man's spiritual world. Life, the life of the human, bears traces everywhere of kindred dislocation. A great convulsion has rent man's nature, has torn it away from God and from Eden, and scattered what, but for a redeeming restoring hand, would have been blasted wrecks, about the world. Toil, pain, care, anguish have chased the serenity and bliss of paradise from man's heart and from man's world. Earth is full of wailing, and life of misery. Looking at its surface aspects, we are tempted to call this life of man the abortion of freedom, and to cry with Job, with Jeremiah, Why did it not perish before it saw the sun? Look deeper. As in nature, so in man's life, a loving restoring hand has been working; the wastes of sin are already clothed with some tints of greenness; flowers of rare beauty and splendour spring up on what sin had made a dreary, blasted desert. The moral chaos, touched by the hand of the Divine love, the love of God the Redeemer, already puts on some dress of beauty; nay, it glows here and there with a nascent glory whose fountain is beyond the stars. Some vision of a grand and glorious purpose of redemption unveils itself as we search the secrets of man's sad history. "_Where sin abounded_," we read in the book of life as well as in the book of Scripture, "_grace did much more abound: That as sin hath reigned unto death, even so might grace reign, through righteousness unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord_." (Rom. v. 20, 21.) What we see accomplished helps us to realize the visions of the prophetic word. "_The wilderness and the solitary place, shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice even with joy and singing: the glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon; they shall see the glory of the Lord, and the excellency of our God._" "_Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing: for in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert. And the parched ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water: in the habitation of dragons where each lay, shall be grass with reeds and rushes. And an highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called The way of holiness: the unclean shall not pass over it; but it shall be for those: the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein. No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon, it shall not be found there; but the redeemed shall walk there. And the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with songs, and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away._" (Isa. xxxv. 1, 2, 5-10.) Sin, the sin of the first parent, which every child of Adam repeats, is the fundamental fact of man's being; no religion, no philosophy, which makes light of it can lay firm hold of man's conscience and heart. But, blessed be God, grace is the crowning fact; and it is the crown which will remain conspicuous through eternity. The sentence on sin then is a dread reality. "_The soul that sinneth it shall die_" remains as God's judgment record, which no art or effort of man can cancel. But in this first sentence on His sinful child God has wondrously interwoven benediction and judgment, warning and promise, words of life and dooms of death. On the serpent the curse is decisive and final: "_And the Lord God said unto the serpent, Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of the field; upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life._" (Gen. iii. 14.) But the sternness relaxes and the doom melts into a promise, when the Judge addresses Himself to man. The very curse on the serpent is pregnant with blessing to the woman and her seed; the Executor of the Lord's judgment on the tempter is the everlasting triumphant Redeemer of mankind. And throughout the sentence on our race blessing ranges in fellowship with judgment; and the sternest words, prophets of many ills and sorrows, are rich benedictions in disguise. And this "_cursed is the ground_" is amongst them. It sounds hard and stern, and prophesies a long and hard apprenticeship of toil and pain; but stern as it seems, it is part of the blessing and not of the cursing, of the benediction and not of the doom. It describes the first stage of the redemptive process of which the sentence on the serpent had spoken, and is the condition of man's elevation out of the estate of a sinful, suffering, degraded creature to the friendship, fellowship, and likeness of God. In order that we may appreciate this, and see the true meaning and bearing of the judgment, I shall ask you to consider with me-- I. The range of the sentence. II. Its work. I. The range of the sentence. It is the sentence, as far as it bears on man's present condition and experience, that I wish to consider,--the "men must work and women must weep" aspect of our life--excluding the deeper and more tremendous question of death and its issues. Not that any full consideration of the one is possible without reference to the other. The whole sentence hangs together; our life is of one texture, one warp runs through the whole piece; and every groan, every pain, every bead of sweat upon the brow, every shadow that glooms over the life, has its full interpretation in the fact that "_sin has entered into the world, and death by sin_;" all pain is truly a beginning to die. But for our present purpose it is possible sufficiently to isolate the conditions of man's life as the workman and the sufferer, and to consider how they bear, benignly or malignly, on his essential interests as a spiritual being and his education for the destiny which through grace sin has been instrumental to create rather than to destroy. The elements of the sentence which are closely connected with the cursing of the ground, which in fact are links of the same chain, are three:-- Toil--pain--care. 1. Toil. This is fundamental. On this man's existence hangs; to pause here is to stop the pulse of life. "_And unto Adam he said, Because thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast eaten of the tree of which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it: cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life; Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field: In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return._" (Gen. iii. 17-19.) The life of man in Eden was as free from toil as the life of a bee among the limes. Toil is wearing, wasting work; work to which no inward impulse, but the pressure of a stern necessity, moves us; work which we must do, whether we love it or whether we hate it, whether it gently tasks us or strains and exhausts our wearied powers; work which compels us to put aside much that we would infinitely more gladly work at, which cuts us off from pleasant occupation, profitable to our intellectual and social life; work, in a word, which puts a yoke upon us, a yoke which wears and galls; work which makes us moan, and curse the day that we were born to it, and fills us with wild, rebellious passion, which vents itself in railings, blaspheming the wisdom and goodness of the Creator and the divine order and beauty of the world. This is the work which we sinners are born to; work which urges us with bloody spur, and exacts a tribute of our life-blood as it drives us through the merciless round. This is toil. This is what the curse of the ground has done for us; we eat our bread, not joyously, thankfully, as in Eden, but in the sweat of brow, brain, and heart. How bright the contrast of the Eden life! "_And the Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there he put the man whom he had formed. And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil. And a river went out of Eden to water the garden; and from thence it was parted, and became into four heads.... And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden, to dress it and to keep it._" (Gen. ii. 8-10, 15.) Sweet, light labour, parent of yet sweeter rest. To dress and to keep the garden! A garden planted by the hand of the Lord. The fairest, brightest garden of the creation; dewy fragrance, radiant colour, splendid form; all that imagination can dream of beauty and glory, bathing man's life in an atmosphere of ravishing, exquisite, inexhaustible joy. One act of transgression, and the garden vanished. Like a dream it faded; and hard, stern realities, unlovely hues, ungraceful forms, unkindly elements, rose round Adam in its room. Instead of the garden where the touch of the Divine hand still lingered in forms and tones of bewildering beauty, a bare hard wilderness stretched everywhere around him, whence not a morsel of bread could be wrung but by the most strenuous labour; where not a gleam of beauty, not a nestling nook of verdure, would smile on him, until he had created it by earnest, persistent, and wasting toil. "_Cursed is the ground._" 2. Pain. Part of the sentence of toil is pain. "_Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow, and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee._" (Gen. iii. 16.) The fountain-head of pain is travail. It begins at birth, it ends in death; life on the whole, between the limits, is one long struggle to endure. "Men must work, and women must weep." It is not a complete division: for men weep while they work, and women work while they weep; toil and tears are the bitter heritage of us all. But the man has on the whole the chief share of the strain, the woman of the pain, of life. Her life, if she has a woman's nobleness and the sense of a woman's mission, is one long travail. This bearing and rearing of children is symbolic. What is the life of all noble, unselfish, ministering natures, but the continual bringing forth, with sore pain of travail, of things which shall gladden and enrich the world? But pain is a great mystery. Why the good God, serenely blessed, should suffer pain to torment His child! How the heavenly powers can bear to look upon it, to hear all the moans of anguish, to see all the wrestlings of pain which each moment distract and waste the beings whom they love! For much of the pain of life man himself is, directly and in the first instance, responsible. He makes it, in spite of God, by his insane folly, passion, or lust. But how much lies at the door of the heavenly Ruler, is His word, His ordinance, the discipline which He presses sternly on His child! Pain, that torments and maddens him while he works; pain that pierces him from everything that he touches, everything that he delights in, every being that he loves; pain, that searches the roots of his courage and endurance, which makes the marrow quiver in his bones, the blood curdle in his heart; pain, which rings from a man who is the very type of endurance the most bitter curses, the most fierce anathemas on the very sunlight which shines on him, on birth and all its agony, on life and all its intolerable woe. "_In sorrow shalt thou bring forth children_," and everything which is freighted with any portion of thy life. Pain in birth; tears in the eyes of helpless infants on their mother's bosom; the paths of the wilderness wet with the tears of brave men and women wrestling with pain too sharp for endurance; tears rung out from the glazing eye, when it settles for one painless moment into the fixed, cold stare of death! 3. Care. "_Dust thou art._" Here lies the secret of care. I believe that these words suggest altogether the most bitter and miserable experience of mankind. Toil may be borne, pain may be borne; but who in his own strength can wrestle with and master care? Man's condition is that of the most dependent of beings, while the things which he needs for the satisfaction of his nature refuse to recognise the mastery of his hand. He comes into the world the most helpless of all the infants of creation. It is horrible to imagine what a human infant, in the hands of a careless or cruel parent, may be made to endure. And this condition of his infancy follows him through life: he is really an infant, a nursling, as dependent for the daily bread of body, mind, and spirit on supplies which he cannot command, as an infant at the mother's breast. So large is the range of his necessities, so infinite his wants, that he needs just the arm and the treasure of the Omnipotent to supply it. And the sentence "_dust thou art_" meets him everywhere. He feels it in the miserable infirmity of his arm; he reads it in the accidents of life and the decrees of fate. He knows that there are things needful to his happiness, needful to his very life, things which he would die rather than miss; and yet they mock the puny efforts of his arm, the feeble breath of his prayer. He sees them passing hopelessly beyond the limits of his horizon, and he must live on and drag on from day to day, a broken, wretched, beggared life. Who has not groaned in utter misery over his wretched helplessness in the hand of calamity, as though his life were the sport of a demon, and all his pleasant things but instruments of torture, with which some malignant spirit can torment his soul and desolate his life? He is in the presence of masses and forces in the creation, which oppress and crush his spirit; but there seems to him a maligner demon behind the veil of the creation, who delights to make sport of his weakness and burn in the sentence "_dust thou art_" upon the tablets of his heart. Toil, pain, care, these are the bitter ingredients of his experience; these make up how much of the daily course and order of his life. Verily men may well imagine that a curse was meant here rather than a blessing, and dream that a devil, a malignant spirit, is nearer to them and more potent on their lives than God. So dread is the pressure, that in the absence of revelation, in the absence of the assurance "_Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him, for He knoweth their frame, He remembereth that they are dust_," devil worship becomes inevitably the religion of the pagan world. Such is the range of the sentence. Now let us ask-- II. What is its work? Is it malign or benignant? Is it, in its very essence, a curse or a blessing to man? Our first notion on reading these words, "_Cursed is the ground for thy sake_," is naturally that part of the curse on man has fallen on the ground. It is cursed "_for thy sake_," by transition of the curse from thee. But the word bears a nobler meaning. "For thy sake" may as well, nay better, mean "with a view to thy good." The root of the sentence would still be transgression. There had been no need of toil, care, and pain, had not sin entered into the world. But sin having entered, toil, care, and pain are ordained for the sake of man in the loftiest sense; they are the most perfect ordinance which could be framed to bless him (or rather with a view to his full and perfect blessing, for they only begin what higher influence must complete), by the Almighty Father's wisdom, power, and love. I am very anxious that the full force of this statement should be understood. It is quite possible to take the following view of it:--Man having placed himself before God in the attitude of a sinner, justice demanded that he should be sentenced: toil, care, pain, and death _are_ the sentence, the expression of God's anger against the transgressor, making man the outcast of His love; that then, in pity, God took compassion on the outcast, and began a remedial work, which, while leaving him still for the present under the action of the sentence, sought to rescue him ultimately from its final doom. This would appear to me a very imperfect and partial statement of the truth. To me it seems as if the whole sentence were the expression of the tenderness which began to work in the Father's heart in the very moment of the transgression. The death which is the righteous doom, the inevitable fruit, of sin, is in the very moment of the sentence held in suspense as it were by the promise; and the toil, care, and pain which are expressed in the sentence are the very first steps of the remedial work. The sinner in the very moment of transgression is drawn to the bosom of God's mercy. Since the first promise was spoken, the death which was the sinner's doom can only be tasted in its bitterness by the man who treats the promise as a thing of nought. And all the hard and stern conditions of man's present lot, instead of being the doom of a judgment from which mercy is moved to rescue him, are themselves the motions of mercy by which the work of rescue is begun. This is the principle on which alone it appears to me that the text can be understood. I do not propose to occupy your thoughts with any of what I may call the minor mercies of the sentence, and the minor ministries of toil, care, and pain to the true development of man. The sentence of toil at once began man's higher education. It brought him firmly and sternly, but not malignly, into contact with the laws which he had broken, and whose penalties he had defied. Not a morsel of bread could he win without again submitting to them; humbly, absolutely, utterly, he must become their servant if he would win the lightest blessing from their hand. But the blessing was there, it was clearly possible that he should win it. Hard and stern as has been his toil, through all these ages it has nourished him. Nature, though stern, is the reverse of malignant; all her conditions are not penal, but disciplinary; the sentence placed him at the foot of the ladder, a vision of which Jacob once saw, whose highest rungs are lost in heaven. But instead of tracing this, I wish to dwell rather on the ministry of the sentence at once and directly to the unfolding of man's Divinest life. The more you look at it, the more clearly I think will it become apparent to you that it is through toil, and care, and pain alone that such a being as man can rise to the full height of his godlike stature, and grow into the likeness and the fellowship of God. Let me ask you then to consider these three points:-- 1. Through toil, and care, and pain, man becomes a creator--not a servant, but a master workman, and springs, as compared with his condition in Eden, into a higher region of life. 2. Through toil, and care, and pain, he becomes acquainted with all the experience of a father; the deepest and noblest relationships unfold their significance, and unutterably enrich and exalt his life. 3. By toil, and care, and pain, he rises to the full and sympathetic knowledge of God his Redeemer, and enters into the holiest fellowship of the universe for ever. 1. The experience which grows out of the sentence constitutes him a creator, a master workman, and lifts him into a higher region of life. Man in Eden was the loyal, loving servant of his Creator, no more. God "_placed him in the garden to dress and to keep it_." Fair, sweet, genial work, like life in one of the soft bright islands of the Pacific. Every moment an exquisite sensation, every movement a pulse of joy. Well! there you have the whole of it. And I say boldly there is not enough of it. To dress and to keep even a paradise is poor, slight work for a being framed and endowed like man. It was inevitable that sooner or later he should get to the end of its interest and the lees of its joy. A strong, hardy, brave, cultivated Englishman soon gets to the end of the soft, sweet life of the Pacific island. It suits the islanders, who are mostly pulp, morally and mentally,--the human jelly-fish, without muscle and fibre; but there is not enough of it for the cultivated and developed man. Toil, pain, and care set the exile of Eden at once about higher work. He went forth with a great sorrow in his heart, and a great shadow over his life, into the hard stern wilderness. There he had not to _dress and to keep_ a garden, but to make one, and that is altogether higher and nobler work. A higher range of faculties was at once called into action. He had to create fruitful fields and homesteads, and to frame a new paradise in imagination, which his strenuous toil, pain, and care were to realize in time. His creative work as a husbandman is symbolic of all his creation, his work as parent, thinker, artist, poet, and master of the world. In Eden everything was made for him, and was ready to his hand; in the world he had to make, or at any rate to mould, everything, and to make his hand ready for an infinite variety of work. And what does this constructive creative toil imply? It means that he had to discover, to think out, and to reproduce, by the utmost strain his faculties would bear, the thoughts of God. He had to study nature, and to master her methods; he had to discover the uses of his powers and the possibilities of his life. He rose at once sad and stricken, but grand through the gentleness which had made him great, to the fulness of a godlike stature; and what are toil, and pain, and care, through life's brief day, if they lift man up to this excellent glory of his manhood, the power to think, to work, to create, in the track and after the method of God? 2. By toil, and pain, and care, man becomes acquainted with the experience of a father; the deepest and noblest relationships unfold to him their significance, and unutterably enrich and exalt his life. Travail is the symbolic pain. "_In sorrow shalt thou bring forth children_;" and in sorrow all the products of the higher life are born. The question is very simple. Ask a woman, when the cry of her first-born sounds in her ear, and its cheek nestles on her breast, how far the joy transcends the pain. She can only murmur--"Unspeakably," and clasp her nursling closer to her heart. How much the pain enters into and exalts the joy, who shall tell? Ask the man, a man like poor Palissy, or the blind bard who got £10 for a "Paradise Lost," how the account stands with him. He can but answer, The work, mighty as has been its cost, is the joy and glory of my life--perhaps because of its very cost. In a grand and glorious country you must have the mountains and the valleys; the depths measure the heights, you cannot divorce them; the two make the beauty which pilgrims come from far to gaze upon, whose vision quickens the life in its dull springs. And all the toil, and care, and pain which our intimate, our dearest relations with our fellows cost us, as husband, wife, parent, brother, sister, friend, teacher, poet, prophet, will be found closely, essentially connected with our highest, purest, and most enduring joys. Mothers shall be our witnesses: theirs is the typical pain, and care, and toil. How say you, careworn, toiling, but rejoicing mothers? Where lie the springs of your sweetest pleasure, where lie the treasures which you would guard with life? The toils, the cares, the pangs that grow out of our human relations in a sad, struggling, mortal world like this, call forth and string to the finest tension passions, loves, faculties, thoughts, energies, which Eden never could have developed. There was little that was noble in the words of Adam on Eve's temptation in the garden; indeed, on neither side does any nobleness appear. But in the wilderness there are men by myriads who would shield the woman they love from a pang or a reproach, and count the cost light if they gave their lives. Oh! my friends, take a large and noble measure of the breadth of thought, feeling, faculty, which toil, and pain, and care develop; and remember that every filament of love and care which binds you to a human being, though intensely sensitive, and therefore in a world like this inevitably doomed to throb with pain, is a tentacle of your spirit life which can never be detached from it but by your own baseness, and through which life, joy, rapture will flow into it in the world in which sin is beaten, crushed for ever, in which there can be no more tears and no more pain. One word more. 3. Toil, care, pain raise man to the full and sympathetic knowledge of God his Redeemer, and bring him into the holiest fellowship of the universe for ever. I say bring him. That is God's purpose; that is what God means by it: but God does not force him. The word must be mixed with faith in them that hear it; faith in the Son of God, who died that the sentence might be a benediction instead of a doom. Some, when they heard, did not, would not believe; and their carcases fell in the wilderness, and their bones whiten the sand. Toil, care, and pain. Does God know nothing of them? "_He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we, like sheep, have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted; yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation? for he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken._" (Isa. liii. 3-8.) Count it the highest ministry of the sentence that it enables you to understand that; count it the highest aim and glory of a man's life to enter into fellowship with that life of the Lord. Hold this to be the deepest, most solemn prayer which has ever been uttered by human lips: "_That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings: being conformed unto his death; if by any means I may attain unto the resurrection from the dead._" And grudge no pain, nay glory in every pain, which opens to you a fuller comprehension of the sorrows of the Man of sorrows upon earth, the joy and glory of the Lord of glory in eternity. Light the affliction which is but for a moment: its ministry is unspeakable blessing in this life; you will find it infinite blessing in eternity. Sons of God, wear with joy the marks of sonship! Brethren of Christ, tread with courage in the Brother's footsteps! Heirs of glory, pay gaily with songs the price by which your glory is to be won. "_What are these which are arrayed in white robes? and whence came they?" "These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple; and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes._" VIII. THE EASILY BESETTING SIN. "The sin which doth so easily beset us."--HEB. xii. 1. These words occur at the close of the most brilliant rhetorical passage of the New Testament scripture. They form the point too of the most close, subtle, and profound argument which is to be met with even in the epistles of St. Paul. We constantly use them; no sentence of the Bible is more frequently on our lips. But we isolate them from their surroundings; we handle them as though they dealt with private matters of individual experience, the sins and follies to which each nature in its private propension is specially prone, rather than some broad human fault or infirmity which is the common sin and sorrow of mankind. We must read these words in connection with the great argument of which they form the culmination, and the splendid burst of eloquence which they close; or we shall miss their large and weighty meaning, and shall narrow to a private and partial experience what the writer intends to set forth as the easily besetting sin of mankind. The Epistle to the Hebrews is certainly one of the most important and profound books in the New Testament. Be it by Paul himself, as I believe, or be it by some Pauline man, it is in a measure the keystone of the arch of revelation, if the Apocalypse is its crown. The way in which, in the order of the Divine dispensations, the old grows into the new--the method by which, while so much once ordained by God goes apparently to wreck, to the eye of God and in the judgment of the far-sighted among men nothing Divine really perishes, no Divine promise fails of fulfilment, no Divine purpose or hope misses its fruit--is a subject of supreme importance, the consideration of which is needful to the completeness of Scripture, while it is full of suggestion as a key to the Divine ways, to the successive generations of mankind. Judaism has passed away in every respect in which it is stronger than a memory. It is essentially, though Jews live among us in Christendom by millions, a thing of the past; but the Epistle to the Hebrews, which unfolds the method by which Judaism developed into Christianity, is a living book in our Bibles, as full of vital interest for this present time as it was for the generation which watched with strange awe and wonder the tremendous overthrow of the elect nation, and saw the last fragments of the ritual and order of a Divinely established system swept along by the flood as wreck. There is profound instruction concerning the method of development in Christendom--how the Church grows, and strikes deeper root through the ages, while that which men call the Church and cling to suffers constant shocks, and is ever dropping piecemeal into decay and death--in this sketch of the philosophy of the most remarkable and startling development recorded in man's spiritual history. Whether Paul wrote it or not, it is the work of a man with Paul's grasp of intellect, and saturated with Paul's ideas both of Judaism and Christianity. One can hardly imagine Paul's life-work complete to his own mind without the production of such an essay as this. He alone grasped with perfect clearness the vital relation of the two dispensations; and we can well imagine with what intense earnestness this Hebrew of the Hebrews must have desired to justify his apostolic ministry to his countrymen and to mankind. Be this as it may, and these a priori judgments are of little worth in criticism, the book is one of large thoughts, views, and principles, reaching deep down to the foundations on which the edifice of man's spiritual faith and hope is built. Let us try to realize some of the main difficulties of those to whom it is addressed, whose tormenting doubts and apprehensions it was intended to remove. They would be chiefly, I think, of two kinds; and they might be put into the shape of questions. 1. Can anything which is ordained of God be abrogated? 2. Can the Messiah, the kingly Son of David, be come, while those who follow Him are the world's outcasts, spoiled, persecuted, and slain? The first is a standing difficulty with all the students of the mysteries of God, in all ages of the world. It pressed on the Hebrew Christians with peculiar force. They and their fathers for ages had believed that a certain visible system had been established on earth by God's own hand, and sustained by His almighty power. It seemed to them as if the very foundations of the universe were shaken, when their temple, their priesthood, their glorious Jerusalem, their beautiful fertile Palestine, vanished like a dream, and left them the beggars and outcasts of mankind. The second difficulty was equally grave. It touched men where they are ever most sensitive, in their individual experiences and hopes. Can the head of this Christian Church be the God-man, the glorious Being of whom our prophets prophesied, and of whose kingdom they had such brilliant visions, whilst its subjects are despised, hated, and down-trodden, and its princes are the scum and off-scouring of all things unto this day? We say that the Jews were expecting a splendid temporal kingdom, a visible reign of the Messiah in righteousness over a regenerate and exulting world. We say it with a touch of scorn. We may spare our scorn; Christendom is always dreaming of it too. It would be a wonderful thing if the Jews had not nourished some such expectations. All men have not faith. How many Christians understand Christianity better than the Jews understood the Judaism of their times? What is the Papacy but an endeavour to realize this splendid and prosperous reign of Christ, of which Judaism dreamed? A rule of righteousness, peace, and goodwill, under the sceptre of Christ's immediate delegate and regent, is the vision which has haunted in all ages some of the ablest minds in Christendom; and the desire to realize this has been near the heart of some of the most desperate struggles which rent the civilized world throughout the middle age. We cannot wonder at their sad thoughts. We think the same when things much less visibly ordained of God are shattered and swept away as wrecks. The answer of the writer of this epistle to the question which was wrung out of the death agony of that nation and church was substantially this: God does not establish things, He plants seeds which grow. The principle of life in the seed is the principle of identity through the successive stages of the development of the organism. The body of man is one, though it changes form very visibly at successive eras, and though every particle of matter composing it is in constant flux, passing away from without, restored by the constructive force of the living principle within. Rise, he says, to a loftier and more comprehensive view of the Divine dispensations. See how the living principle of God's relation to you, to man, as Father and Redeemer, runs through all the dispensations, moulds the outward form of the Church according to the exigencies of the times, and is ever bringing forth new forms as the ages need. See how the germ which was planted before the law grew into the legal dispensation, and how when the leafage and fruitage of that dispensation grew old and withered, as _things_ must grow old and perish, the living principle within took new and diviner form, suffered, as all divine things do, death and resurrection, and lived with a new and divine life in a new and regenerated world. "_God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds; who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high; being made so much better than the angels, as he hath by inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they._" (Heb. i. 1-4.) It ought not to be hard for us to understand and enter into the sore perplexities of the Hebrew believers when they found their ancestral kingdom uprooted, while no sign of the new Messiah's kingdom appeared, except the sway which a shameful cross was wielding over individual human hearts. Can this be the beginning of the kingdom? Can Christ be reigning there, and we His subjects here, the objects of His tenderest care and love, be so harried and tormented for our truth and righteousness as never men have been harried and tormented for lies and sins? Is it credible that God's sons in the world should be the world's outlaws; that those whom the hand of Omnipotence shields should be the helpless victims of the most puny foes? Are slaves and beggars the chief subjects of Messiah's kingdom? Does the fellowship of this new realm draw us into loving, tender communion with the saddest, the poorest, the most ignorant, the most wretched of mankind? Is the life of this new regenerate state a ceaseless struggle, a constant pain, with no issue but by the gate of death, whose apparitors may be a lion's jaws or a headsman's axe? Is the symbol of this splendid empire a cross? The answer to these questions is the text. The question is the sin which so easily besets humanity, you and me quite as intensely as the Hebrews; and the cure for the sin, the answer to the question, is the faith which draws from the writer this splendid eulogy, a faith which scans the bounds of the invisible universe, and measures the range of the Divine thought from the height of the Divine throne. It is as though the writer had said, Looked at on the lower level, by the measures of the things seen and temporal, the lot is dark enough and sad enough: "_If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable._" (1 Cor. xv. 19.) But rise to a higher level. Get up into the mountain, and survey the horizon of a wider world. Search into the nature of man's true well-being, and see where the springs of it rise. Measure the range of man's existence, the endless ages of his being, the boundless faculty of joy or sorrow, of bliss or anguish, that claims eternity as its time. Above all, measure the stature of a man. Study the image after which he is fashioned, the godlike form he wears, the godlike experience he is made to fathom, and the kind of satisfaction which his godlike powers demand, robbed of which they hunger and pine and fill him at last with madness and despair; so shall you comprehend more fully the grandeur and the glory of his Christian vocation--sharing the conflict, the toil, the sorrow, the joy, and the triumph of hisever God. Then lay aside "every weight and the sin that doth so easily beset you." That sin is poverty of faith--a poor-spirited estimate of life, its experiences and its issues; a love for the serfdom of Egypt rather than the freedom of the wilderness, the fleshpots of Goshen rather than the bread of Canaan, the pleasure of the moment rather than the joy which springs from fountains that outlast eternity. The sin which doth so easily beset us. Want of faith. I. In ourselves. II. In God. III. In the future. I. Want of faith in ourselves--poor, base views of our nature, power, and destiny. The essential dignity of man's nature, as God constituted it, and the utter debasement it has suffered through sin, are facts which in nowise clash or contradict each other. In truth, no man who has not faith enough to comprehend what "_power to become the sons of God_" may mean, as spoken of man, can enter into the depth of anguish and shame wrung out in the confession, "_I was as a beast before thee._" "_I have heard of thee with the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee; wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes._" At the root of the humiliation, the debasement, lies this want of faith in our higher being and destiny. We prefer the slave's portion, with the slave's security, to the cares and burdens of freedom, with its hopes and joys. The main difficulty in the emancipation of serfs arises always from themselves. They do not care, nay they fear, to be free. The responsibility of self-government and self-control is a burden from which they shrink;--let us creep safely on the lower levels, rather than strain perilously up the mountain paths, with the free air around us, the bright heaven above us, the mists, the clouds, the storms, seething and flashing beneath our feet. This is the cry of our souls--yours and mine. God is ever stirring us to take the higher view of our nature and destiny; we are ever burying ourselves in the lower:--"_'Let us alone, Jesus, thou Son of God._' Thy words are perilous; they search and judge us; they trouble us in our politics, our pleasures, our trade. We are fairly content as it is; why should we weary ourselves by straining after the higher good, which seems thin, impalpable, and may easily elude our hand? Let us alone; depart out of our coasts." This was the mood of these Hebrew Christians; it is ours. And nothing does the devil's work more surely within us than this feeling that on the whole we were made for poor work, poor interests, and poor joys. Paul seeks to stir us to a nobler mood, to fire something within us which will burn with a heavenly lustre and seek to mingle itself with the brightness of its native skies. Man is made to deal with the substance of things, the eternal substance; you are content to converse with their fleeting shadows. "_For the law, having a shadow of good things to come, and not the very image of the things, can never with those sacrifices which they offered year by year continually make the comers thereunto perfect. For then would they not have ceased to be offered? because that the worshippers once purged should have had no more conscience of sins. But in those sacrifices there is a remembrance again made of sins every year. For it is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take away sins._" (Heb. x. 1-4.) The heavenly things themselves your minds were made to contemplate, your hearts to love, your spirits to commune with; and you are grovelling amid the ashes of the perishing, while the imperishable, the eternal, passes for ever beyond the range of your sight. Believe in humanity as the first step to a nobler life. Not the poor, weak, trembling humanity which your self-communings reveal to you; but the glorious, Divine humanity which God has set before you to help your infirmity, to recall the memory of the height from which you have fallen, and to kindle the hope of the royal dignity to which you may be restored. Look within; and man seems poor enough, and pitiful enough. But look above: "_We see Jesus who was made a little lower than the angels, for the suffering of death, crowned with glory and honour; that he by the grace of God should taste death for every man._" Then "_lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset you, and run with patience the race that is set before you, looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God_." Behold in Him the perfect image of a man, in His life the beauty of a perfect human life. Believe in that image; gaze on it, meditate on it, till contemplation kindles sympathy, and sympathy grows into love. "_Consider the apostle and high-priest of your profession, Christ Jesus_"; and if you tread in His footsteps of present sorrow and humiliation, glory in it, and pray that you may go on to know it more perfectly, "_the power of his resurrection, the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death_." Believe that all that a man was meant to be, to do, to become, can only grow out of this vital fellowship with Jesus. Believe in Him rather than in the world's ideas, maxims, and hopes. Leave them to the Pagans. You, sons of God, heirs of God, joint-heirs with Christ, learn nobler lessons out of the book of His life, aim at loftier marks, thirst for purer and perennial joys. II. Poor belief about God--unbelief in the Incarnation, and all its blessed meanings to mankind. The low and slavish idea of man's character and destiny inevitably infects our views of God and of God's action and purpose in the world. Having poor hope ourselves, we cannot understand God's hope, the hope which lit the path to Calvary, and shed a flood of glorious light around the saddest and most shameful passage of man's sad and painful history. To those who believe that man is the serf of the creation, the Incarnation is incredible. God would be ashamed to be called the God, in any high Christian sense, of such beings as some men believe themselves to be and act as if they were. The Hebrew Christians could not believe in the Incarnation; that is, they were beset with unbelief about it. Their fathers could not believe in their angel guide. A glorious triumphant King, coming to the world in splendour, scattering the hosts of His foes by His thunders, and leading His armies to rapid and easy victory, they could comprehend well enough. But the cross was their stumbling-block. Can the living God suffer shame, anguish, and death, for such beings as we are, for such a kingdom as this Crucified One maybe able to win? "_That be far from thee, Lord_;" it is blasphemy to dream of it. They were like a man in poverty and straits, who is always expecting that a splendid fortune will fall to him suddenly, will enable him to make a magnificent figure, and to be a model of dignity, generosity, and manly grace. But the MAN is he who wins his fortune by bearing the strain of toil through long years of patience, and who trains himself by discipline to rule it as a realm when gained. And we are, most of us, of this foolish temper. What wonderful people we should be, we think, if our platform were higher, and a stronger light were thrown upon our lives! If God would but mend our surroundings, our virtue and dignity would appear! Believe that it seemed good to God, that it became God, to reveal to us the truth of this relation between surroundings and life, by sending His Son, in the likeness of sinful flesh, to live the life of God in poverty, sorrow, and shame, and manifest in that depth of humiliation the mystery of the life eternal. "_For it became him, for whom are all things, and by whom are all things, in bringing many sons unto glory, to make the captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings. For both he that sanctifieth and they who are sanctified are all of one: for which cause he is not ashamed to call them brethren, saying, I will declare thy name unto my brethren, in the midst of the church will I sing praise unto thee. And again, I will put my trust in him. And again, Behold I and the children which God hath given me. Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; and deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage. For verily he took not on him the nature of angels; but he took on him the seed of Abraham. Wherefore in all things it behoved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make reconciliation for the sins of the people. For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted._" (Heb. ii. 10-18.) It was a hard, an incredible saying to many among the Hebrew Christians. In all its deep meaning it is a hard, an incredible saying to us. Do we believe in our heart of hearts that the life of daily denial, cross-bearing, and Divine ministry, missing all earthly honour, golden treasure, and worldly joy, is the life which the Lord God of heaven lived on earth, and glorified earth by living it? Have we an eye for that inner glory? Is that tear-stained path He trod, beautiful, transcendently beautiful, in our sight, as it is to the angels and the white-robed choir on high? Shame on our lives then, if this is the belief of our hearts about it. If we believe that He who was in the form of God, and "_thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant and was made in the likeness of men_" (Phil. ii. 6-8), left us an ensample that we should follow in His steps, what are our lives like before Him and before the angels, filled as they are with selfish aims and passions, strivings after things that perish, that crumble to dust as we grasp them; contemptuous as they are of celestial things and powers, of all that made His life luminous to the eye of spirits, of all that He came through shame and anguish to set palpably before the vision of our souls. "_Lay aside the sin that doth so easily beset you_"--this sin of light thoughts of Christ, of the intense reality of His human life, and all the high meanings and inspirations with which it is charged for you, for me, for all mankind. Open wide the gates of your spirit, and let this King of Glory in. "_Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in._" Who is this King of Glory? The Man of Sorrows, He is the King of Glory. Believe, faint heart, and live. III. Unbelief in the future. We cannot believe that this is purely a seed-time. Like children, we are for reaping where we have not sown, and gathering where we have not strawed. Or, if by chance we drop a seed into the earth and leave it for a moment, next morning we are digging about it to see if it is growing, and are sick at heart if it promises no immediate fruit. The Hebrew Church demanded the instant fruitage of the death of Christ. "_And Jesus answered them, saying, The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified. Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal._" (John xii. 23-25.) Lord, we have seen the seed corn cast into the ground, we have seen it lie there, we have seen it rise, and where is the harvest? Where is the kingdom? Where are the throngs? Where is the throne? The offence of the cross still lies in the way of triumph. Tribulations are the only gifts of the kingdom still! The writer of this epistle does not care to argue about the moment. Be it so. Be it as bad as you say: tribulations, persecutions, contempt, spoiling of your goods, and bonds. Be it so. "_Ye have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin._" You have not faced the last extremity, and the last extremity may be in store. But what matters? Sons of God, brethren of Christ, citizens of the heavenly state, heirs of everlasting joys and glory, what matters it? "_Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain. Be ye also patient; stablish your hearts: for the coming of the Lord draweth nigh. Grudge not one against another, brethren, lest ye be contemned: behold, the judge standeth before the door. Take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name of the Lord, for an example of suffering affliction, and of patience. Behold, we count them happy which endure. Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy._" (Jas. v. 7-11.) Is patience no longer beautiful, divine, when it is heaven which has to be waited for, a royal sceptre, an everlasting crown? For shame! moaning over the moment's pains, which are the seeds of everlasting joys; over the dust of the husks and shells of the temporal things, when, as they waste and perish, the glorious forms of the things not seen and eternal, which they veiled, appear. I say not, Compare the one with the other, weigh them well, and make your selection. There is no comparison possible. "_I reckon that the sufferings of this present life are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed._" "_For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal._" (2 Cor. iv. 17, 18.) It is blank unbelief to talk about comparison. The one is infinitely small and pitiful; the other is infinitely great, beautiful, and glorious. "_What things were gain to me_," when the visible things of earth and time filled my sight, "those I have counted loss for Christ. Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ." (Phil. iii. 7, 8.) This is the Christian estimate. This is the true entrenchment of the human spirit against all the floods of calamity which may beat around the rock on which it builds its hopes. Be my lot what it may, my God, my Father ordains it; and He has the power, the will to make every pain, every wound, every heartache, every cross, every shock, the seed of a harvest whose glorious wealth I cannot measure even in my dreams. The power and the will, said I? His strongest promises, His profoundest purposes, are engaged in the fulfilment of the hope which He kindles in my breast, and which makes me master of the world. Nay, He has staked His life, the very existence of His throne, upon it. He has subjected you and me and the vast creation to vanity, "_in hope, the hope that the creation itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the sons of God_." We have no true measure of these sad scenes and experiences of earth--and they are sad enough, nothing is to be gained by painting them as lighter than they are; but we can measure them fairly when we get up into the higher region, strong in faith, and share the thought and hope of God. _We are saved by hope._ Let us bless God for it, for the blessed and boundless future in which the far-off interest of tears will be our eternal portion, and the harvest of brave endurance and patient pain. "_Behold we count them patient which endure._" And who are they? The world's weaklings and fools. Listen to the bead-roll, and hush your moans for very shame. Abel, Enoch, Noah head the line; Abraham, Isaac, Jacob. "_These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country. And truly, if they had been mindful of that country from whence they came out, they might have had opportunity to have returned. But now they desire a better country, that is an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city._" (Heb. xi. 13-16.) "_And what shall I more say? for the time would fail me to tell of Gedeon, and of Barak, and of Samson, and of Jephthae; of David also, and Samuel, and of the prophets: who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens. Women received their dead raised to life again: and others were tortured, not accepting deliverance; that they might obtain a better resurrection: and others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover of bonds and imprisonment; they were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented; (of whom the world was not worthy:) they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth._" (Heb. xi. 32-38.) "_And these all_"--the world's chief heroes, whose names are dear and honoured through the ages on earth, as they shine resplendent as the stars in heaven's firmament on high--"_These all, having obtained a good report through faith, received not the promise; God having provided some better thing for us, that they without us should not be made perfect._" (Heb. xi. 39, 40.) "Wherefore seeing ye are compassed about with so great a crowd of witnesses"--these grand and glorious forms, who watch your battles from their thrones, and prepare to hail your triumphant entrance to the kingdom which the victory of faith shall win--"_lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset you, and run with patience the race that is set before you, looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God_." (Heb. xii. 1, 2.) IX. THE LAW OF ABSTINENCE. "Wherefore, if meat (food) make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend."--1 COR. viii. 13. Of all the great writers of the world, the apostle Paul perhaps most needs to be read with the eye of the heart, as well as with the eye of the understanding. Moral sympathy is an essential condition of the full understanding of the apostle's words. Most especially is it needed in such passages as the present, in which he gives vehement and even passionate utterance to his vivid sympathies with the weaker brethren who were still struggling with the difficulties and perplexities from which his powerful genius had already emancipated him, or who were tormented by doubts which he had laid happily at rest for ever. There is no great writer who is less careful to guard himself from even grave misconstructions, or whose eager, impetuous sentences, when matters which touch his sympathies and affections are in question, are more likely, if formulated into maxims and rules of action, to lead weak minds astray. Indeed, there is a sense in which the Bible is the most unguarded of all books. Meant more than any other book to be a guide of action, it is less careful about misunderstandings of its meaning, and lays itself open to more complete misapprehensions, than any other book in the world. And this precisely because it will be read with the spirit as well as with the understanding. It needs no worldly scholarship; but it will not make its meanings plain to those who do not care to bring to bear on it, not the attention of their heads only, but that of their hearts. How many startling sentences are there which, in the first flash of their meaning, seem to strike at the root of institutions or principles which we learn from other passages the Bible is most earnestly solicitous to maintain and secure. Take some utterances of the mind of the apostle Paul about women for instance, as isolated dicta; treat them as complete authoritative utterances, giving the law to us; the result would be the utter confusion of all man's most sacred relations, and the overthrow of human society. There are words too, uttered by yet more sacred lips, which it needs no little spiritual experience and insight to avoid misunderstanding, and applying to uses which the whole tenour of the Saviour's life and teaching would sternly condemn. Paul, a man vividly sympathetic and tender, easily touched by suffering, easily drawn by love, intense, passionate, and impetuous, suffers himself ever and anon to express in one short, startling sentence some vivid impression which for the moment occupied his whole soul. But we must pause--as he would have paused, nay, did manifestly pause--before we treat it as a mould in which we are to cast our rules of action or habits of life. The sentence expresses the desire and purpose of the apostle's heart, that which would animate and give aim to all its action; but the action itself would be wisely modulated by a hundred secondary considerations, and by other co-ordinate principles, so as to secure, as far as might be possible, the end at which he aimed, without imperilling other and it might be yet higher things. It would be a grand mistake then to formulate such a sentence as this into a rigid rule of action. Treated thus, the first thing which would fall under condemnation would probably be the apostle's life. These words are very constantly employed as though they laid down a rule of action concerning things indifferent which might lead easily to sin, and set before us a way of helping men against vicious habits at the cost of some personal self-sacrifice. That may be a very important subject, and it has plenty of passages bearing on it in the word of God. But it is not the difficulty here. This passage has quite a different bearing. It is a case, not of a weak will, but of a weak judgment, a weak conscience, in which there is danger of false beliefs or of a lowering of the tone of the conscientious principle of action. It is this, and not any question of vicious habits, which draws from the apostle, who had fought his way through the whole jungle of doubts and difficulties and perplexities in which the weaker brethren were struggling painfully still, these ardent and decisive words. I. At the root of this declaration lies the conviction that there is no consideration which may compete in a man's motives with the desire to promote the spiritual welfare and progress of mankind. It is the object dearest to God. It was the object dearest to the apostle's heart. It seemed so great to God, so essentially glorious, that God came forth in the form of a man to die for it. This is the true form of the Calvinistic tenet that to God His own glory is His highest end. And Paul was prepared to die for it too. "_And as we tarried there many days, there came down from Judæa a certain prophet, named Agabus. And when he was come unto us, he took Paul's girdle, and bound his own hands and feet, and said, Thus saith the Holy Ghost, So shall the Jews at Jerusalem bind the man that owneth this girdle, and shall deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles. And when we heard these things, both we, and they of that place, besought him not to go up to Jerusalem. Then Paul answered, What mean ye to weep and to break mine heart? for I am ready not to be bound, only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus._" (Acts xxi. 10-13.) When a man has settled that, and has taken his life in his hand to fulfil a ministry to mankind, he has but one supreme consideration; his own interests vanish; man's interests, the estate of the poorest and most wretched of mankind, fill the sphere of his aims and hopes. (1 Cor. iv. 9-13.) No wonder that nothing could move him from this ministry, and that life was valueless save as it might be a "_finishing his course with joy, and the ministry which he had received of the Lord Jesus to testify the gospel of the grace of God_." Of course, if life was freely laid on that altar, "_as the life is more than meat, and the body than raiment_," meats would be freely offered as a sacrifice too. The man who was ready to die for man was not likely to suffer a morsel of meat, any worldly possession, any physical or mental pleasure, to stand for an instant in the way of any help or guidance which he might offer to the weakest of mankind. "_For though I be free from all men, yet have I made myself servant unto all, that I might gain the more. And unto the Jews I became as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews; to them that are under the law, as under the law, that I might gain them that are under the law; to them that are without law, as without law, (being not without law to God, but under the law to Christ,) that I might gain them that are without law. To the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some. And this I do for the gospel's sake, that I might be partaker thereof with you._" (1 Cor. ix. 19-23.) We must take this sentence then, as explaining the full readiness of the apostle, as far as his own tastes, habits, and appetites were concerned, to eat no meat to his dying day, if he saw that such a course of action would remove effectually an offence, a stone of stumbling, from the path of the weakest of his fellow-men. But all are not apostles. How far is the conduct of this great Christian teacher to be regarded as giving the rule to us? This is but another form of a yet graver question--How far do we feel ourselves bound to be followers of the Son of man in the regeneration, in the reconstruction of man's nature and of human society, in the working out of His benign plans and purposes for mankind? "_Be ye followers of me_," said Paul, "_as I am of Christ_." The apostle's life was simply the most Christlike life, and those who care to follow Christ must drink of the same springs, and aim at the same ends, while they pursue the various callings by which society is sustained and developed. To be Christian is to have in us the same mind which was likewise in Christ Jesus. The measure of our Christian vitality is the measure in which that mind is in us, and in which we are able thereby to enter into this language of the apostle Paul. Those that can enter into it perfectly, and can live it, following Paul as Paul followed Christ, are the heaven-sent leaders and ministers of mankind. It is a sacred line which God keeps unbroken through all the ages, the men of apostolic spirit and self-devotion to the good of their fellows. But those who follow can only follow through sympathy. They must be able to believe in this spirit, to make it the aim of their lives to work it out in their limited spheres, with feebler it may be, but with honest and manly effort; or Christianity becomes simply the efflorescence of civilization, and the sad world has to seek its helper, teacher, and saviour still. Clearly then Paul was ready for this, and far more than this, if thereby he might effectually help a weak brother on his way. II. Actually, as far as we have the means--and we have some means--of knowing, Paul continued to eat meat to his dying day, while the difficulty still remained a pressing one, and the stone of stumbling still continued to block many a weak Christian's path. What was the difficulty? How did the offence arise? The meat spoken of here is meat which had been offered in an idolatrous temple, and which might be supposed by those who had not the lofty intelligence of the apostle to have contracted some moral contamination thereby. Under all systems the meat offered in sacrifice was in some measure the perquisite of the priest. (Lev. vii. 7-19.) The abuse of the custom is thus described:--"_Now the sons of Eli were sons of Belial; they knew not the Lord. And the priest's custom with the people was, that, when any man offered sacrifice, the priest's servant came, while the flesh was in seething, with a flesh-hook of three teeth in his hand; and he struck it into the pan, or kettle, or caldron, or pot: all that the flesh-hook brought up, the priest took for himself. So they did in Shiloh unto all the Israelites that came thither. Also before they burnt the fat, the priest's servant came, and said to the man that sacrificed, Give flesh to roast for the priest; for he will not have sodden flesh of thee, but raw. And if any man said unto him, Let them not fail to burn the fat presently, and then take as much as thy soul desireth; then he would answer him, Nay; but thou shalt give it me now; and if not I will take it by force. Wherefore the sin of the young men was very great before the Lord: for men abhorred the offering of the Lord._" (1 Sam. ii. 12-17.) There is a very interesting question behind this, into which I must not enter here; how far all animal sacrifice is to be regarded as the consecration of food; the recognition of God as the giver, as the lord of the animal slain, and of man's right to slay as a right which had been delegated by the Lord. That there is some deeper idea in animal sacrifice no thoughtful reader of the Bible, I imagine, can well question; but that this is a very important part of the meaning I feel well assured. It casts a flood of light on the immense slaughter of victims at the consecration of the temple and other high occasions; while it is itself illustrated by the customs of orientals with reference to the slaughter of animals to this day. But the priest's portion was a recognised thing. Portions of this, not needed by the priest's household, would be sold in the shambles. Portions belonging to those who offered the sacrifice might be similarly exposed. Sometimes a feast would be made in the temple, the animal which furnished the flesh being sacrificed there (ver. 10); sometimes in a private house (x. 27), where Christians, following the liberal law, the law of liberty laid down by the apostle (1 Cor. v. 9, 10), would be constantly brought into contact with it, and through it, it might seem to them, with the idol by whose name it had been consecrated. A serious difficulty would thus arise. I beg you to mark carefully where the real heart of the difficulty lay. It was not at all a question of meat in itself, noxious in quality or becoming noxious by quantity. If it had been a question of a man eating unwholesome food, or eating good food to excess, damaging health of body and mind thereby, I cannot imagine that Paul would have treated it as a difficult question at all. You have a sinful habit he would say, you are injuring and destroying your system; you must break it, absolutely, decisively, or perish: what help I can give you as man to man, by the influence of my words or works, is at your service; but it is no question of what I do or do not: it is a simple point, it is between you and God; fly to Him for grace and strength, and master your lust. But here the case is quite different. It is a case not of a vicious habit, but of a puzzled conscience; a feeble apprehension of truth, a doubt as to what is right or wrong, in which the conduct of the wise and enlightened would be a most wholesome and valuable guide. This weak soul trying to see its way needed guidance. What a glutton or a sot needs is power. For the one use, example is most precious; the other need can only be supplied from a yet deeper spring. How far am I in contact with idolatry in this eating of meat offered to idols? might easily be a very fair question; and not only with the weakest of the young Gentile Church. Some would eat it with conscience of the idol. They would be pained and distressed, and a constant tolerance of such pain and distress is demoralizing. Doing great acts of life with a half heart, with a troubled faith, paralyses conscience, and in the end opens the way to tremendous sins. The constant converse with idolatry which attending these feasts with a "conscience of the idol" would generate, might easily end in apostasy, shipwreck of faith and hope for ever. How beautiful is the mingled wisdom and charity with which the apostle handles the difficulty! It was absolutely none to him. The idol to him was not anything at all. It was a vain imagination of man's vain heart. There could be no conscience of an idol in his mind in dealing with anything created by God, however the idol might have been connected with it by others. Who would recognise an usurper because he occupies the palace and assumes the signet of the rightful king? "_The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof._" The creature is the Lord's, every limb, every particle. If I can but use it for the end for which the Lord created it and put it under my hand, I will rejoice and give thanks that so far the usurper is despoiled. Thus the instructed Jew would look at the matter: "_the idol is not anything at all_." But the Corinthians were converted Gentiles. The idol was a reality, and a very terrible reality to them; in memory and association at any rate, if not in conviction. Relapse into idolatry, which was all round them, many dear to them being devoted to it, was a very pressing peril; and association with idolaters, with conscience of the idol in the act of association, might easily bring the danger near. There was but one thing which could deliver them; a thoroughly Christian conviction that the idol is not anything at all: that "_every creature of God is good and is to be received with thanksgiving, being sanctified by the word of God and by prayer_." But these noble and lofty beliefs are not born in a moment. God had been for ages educating the Jews to the belief of which the Christian Paul, the Hebrew of the Hebrews, in this as in other things was reaping the fruit. And education is a slow and delicate process, and needs to be managed by a nursing hand. While these Gentile converts are being trained to this loftier view, beware lest, puffed up by your superior knowledge, your conduct tempts them to a course which will deaden that fine tact of conscience, by which alone, when it has fastened on the higher truth, the emancipation can be gained. Act on your higher knowledge as your rule of living. The fools and the weaklings are not to be the lords of life and the masters of the world. But if you see any attempt made to draw you into visible contact with the idol, that those weaker than you, led by your example, may be drawn into a contact which to them would be detrimental and degrading, bend the higher law for the moment, or rather lift it higher still--lose it in the lovelier law of charity, and practise a forbearance the motive of which is a brother's good. "_All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not. Let no man seek his own, but every man another's wealth. Whatsoever is sold in the shambles, that eat, asking no question for conscience sake; for the earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof. If any of them that believe not bid you to a feast, and ye be disposed to go; whatsoever is set before you, eat, asking no question for conscience sake. But if any man say unto you, This is offered in sacrifice unto idols, eat not for his sake that shewed it, and for conscience sake: for the earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof: conscience, I say, not thine own, but of the other: for why is my liberty judged of another man's conscience? For if I by grace be a partaker, why am I evil spoken of for that for which I give thanks? Whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God._" (1 Cor. x. 23-31.) Free use of all God's good gifts with bold conscience is to be the law of Christian living, the daily practice and habit of the life. Voluntary abstinence, forbearance in the use of the freedom, is demanded of us by a yet higher law, the law of Christian charity, the charity which has Christ for its model and inspiration; but only when we find that it will be helpful to a weak brother in our personal intercourse with and influence over his soul. That Paul did not adopt this as his rule of living seems quite indisputable. He could not have omitted to refer to it and explain it in such a passage as 1 Tim. iv. 1-5, if his own rule had been abstinence. "_Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils; speaking lies in hypocrisy; having their conscience seared with a hot iron; forbidding to marry, and commanding to abstain from meats, which God hath created to be received with thanksgiving of them which believe and know the truth. For every creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving; for it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer._" At the same time we cannot question that he frequently acted on it when brought into personal contact with brethren of weak faith and tender conscience, whom he sought, by sympathy with their doubts and difficulties, to educate to a more vigorous and healthy life. In order to understand what we have every reason to believe was the habit of the apostle's life, the free and temperate use of all the good gifts of God, we must consider-- III. That the adoption of a rule of abstinence, in permanent deference to weak consciences, would simply transfer to the weak the regulation of the order of human life and the progress of the world. The pace of progress would thus be permanently adjusted to the strength of the weakest, instead of being so regulated as to stimulate and help the weaker to press on into the front line. The result would be a grievous impoverishment of moral and mental power; and Christianity, instead of being the power of God unto salvation, would be the instrument of decline and a ministry of death. Surely it is a fundamental principle that the framework of a man's life, his daily habits, should be set in the measure of his own personal stature and power. What suits his character and life, and ministers to his development, he is to embody in his habits, as the best service which he can render to God and to his fellow-men. To be strong, wise, self-controlled, is the best beginning, the only true beginning of real service to mankind. The best work which a man can work at, for the service of his fellows, is his life. To regulate permanent habits on the wants and the weaknesses of others is to deny this principle, and to exalt the influence of spasmodic effort above the broad, grand ministry of life. Paul was far from such illusions. Freedom was with him the fundamental condition of vital progress; and if his sympathy with the weak and perplexed led him again and again to veil his freedom for the moment, it was that he might help the weak to strength, the perplexed to clearness of vision, the bondsmen to liberty--strength, clearness, and freedom of which he offered conspicuous examples in his own constant habits of life. "Be ye as I am," was his appeal: free and strong; able to see the Lord's mark on all things and creatures, and not the idol's. To live habitually as if he saw the idol's mark would have seemed to him a base act of treason, a shameful forsaking of that liberty which he had in Christ, and which he was resolved to hold for himself and his brethren even unto death. To generalize and formalize into laws of action the impulses and purposes which inspire the spirit in its personal contact with the will, the consciences, and the affections of its fellows, is in most cases to rob charity of its life and grace of its power. It is to substitute law for grace in our personal relations and dealings with mankind. Had Paul laid down the rule,--There are weak consciences, which cannot get rid of the savour of the idol; they shall rule our conduct; I will never eat meat offered to idols, and I ordain the same to the Church,--the development of mankind by Christianity would have been killed at the very root. Scruples would have become the consecrated thing instead of liberty, and Christianity would have made manifest the weakness of man, instead of the power of God, to the world. No! his supreme concern was that they might master their weakness, break their bonds, and grow from babes to men. If this abstaining from flesh while the world stood would have helped them to that progress, he loved them well enough to do it without a pang of regret. But he evidently was eager to see them rise out of the lower region which is haunted and tormented by such scruples. He ignored them as far as possible, though he dealt with them in tender charity, when, as in chap. x. 28, they were forced on his sight. Something very parallel to this difficulty of the meat offered to idols was the question about the theatre which was a sore perplexity to pious but intelligent spirits a few years ago. There was something, which had in it essentially no element of evil. But it was closely connected with a world and a worldly life which those nurtured in the Church or brought under its influence were sedulously taught to shun. Many who felt themselves strong abstained. They saw no harm, and would get no harm, but rather a positive good. But they denied themselves, that others of weaker faith might not be in the way of harm, and that no sin or ruin of a brother might by any chance be laid at their door. Whether the rule of abstinence was wise I am not called here to consider. It was complicated by moral considerations--which too were not absent in the case which the apostle treats of here--which make it less easy to pronounce judgment in a word. But it must always be remembered that a rule or law of abstinence in such cases on the part of the strong consecrates the scruple, associates evil permanently with that which has no essential evil in it, and multiplies thereby the stumbling-blocks of mankind. The case of actual vice, like drinking to excess, seems to me to fall under quite another category; though it is constantly regarded as settled by the text, as though it had been written, "Wherefore, if drink make my brother to offend I will drink no wine while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend." We have no call here to discuss and pass judgment on a movement by which men of most unquestioned goodness, and self-devotion to the best interests of others, think that they see a means of largely helping the morally weak by removing a fatal temptation from their path. We only say that it is a question well worthy of the most careful consideration, how far in the long run and on a large scale a permanent confession of weakness can be helpful to human development; how far a habit of life confessedly built on the weakness of others can offer a noble and inspiring example to those who it is hoped would profit by it; and how far an unnatural condition can have in it the elements of a true and vital reformation. But these considerations are really beside the true scope of the text, though they are naturally suggested by it. And in closing this discussion of a perplexed and difficult subject I would say in brief:--(1) That isolated acts of abstinence, which may have their special reason and justification, when moulded into habits fall in the way of the withering denunciation which the passage I have quoted from 1 Tim. iv. 1-4 expresses; (2) That the moulding of our personal habits on the follies, weaknesses, or vices of others, is a betrayal of trust, for that which we have chiefly in trust is life--to live a life free, strong, and fearless, shining as a light, not of rebuke or of caution, but of guidance to mankind; and (3) That every concession to doubt and weakness to which Divine charity moves us is futile and vicious, unless in the very act we are putting forth a hand to lift a weak brother to a standing ground where he will be above these fogs of fear and infirmity for ever. Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London. _BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ _In crown 8vo, 5s., cloth._ IDOLATRIES, OLD AND NEW: THEIR CAUSE AND CURE. Opinions of the Press. "The present volume we should think is by far the best which the author has sent forth. This, indeed, is the most fundamental and comprehensive argument on the principles involved in the ritualistic controversy which we have yet seen."--_London Quarterly Review._ "We heartily recommend to our readers this eloquent, vigorous, and well-reasoned book. It puts things familiar to only a few strong thinkers in fresh and forcible lights; it is a noble vindication of the spirituality and freedom of the Christian life; it is written in a manly chastened style, and is inspired by a high-toned and earnest spiritual feeling,"--_English Independent._ "His style is as forcible and eloquent as his thinking is clear and vigorous. Of the genuine power of the book--a power derived from its high-toned principle, its manly freedom, its intense earnestness--there can be no question."--_Nonconformist._ "A thoughtful, earnest, and intelligent protest against the idolatry of the priest, of the sacrament, and of the word, written with manly vigour and much beauty."--_Freeman._ LONDON: HODDER & STOUGHTON, 27, PATERNOSTER ROW. Transcriber's Note: Punctuation has been standardised. Paragraph enumeration and hyphenation have been retained as they appear in the original publication. A table of contents has been added above the beginning of the book. Changes have made been as follows: Page 40 nature of things befal a free spirit _changed to_ nature of things befall a free spirit Page 77 bring forth judgmedt unto truth _changed to_ bring forth judgment unto truth 
36694	----	memory of Steven Gibbs (1938-2009). [Transcriber's Note: This e-book, a pamphlet by Daniel Defoe, was originally published in 1704, and was prepared from _The Storm_, a modern reprint (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 2005). Archaic and inconsistent spelling, punctuation, capitalization, and hyphenation, as well as apparent printer errors, have been retained as they appear in the original.] THE Lay-Man's SERMON UPON THE LATE STORM; Held forth at an Honest _Coffee-House-Conventicle_. _Not so much a Jest as 'tis thought to be._ Printed in the Year 1704. NAHUM. I. III _The Lord has his way in the Whirle-Wind and in the Storm, and the Clouds are the Dust of his Feet._ This Text is not chosen more for the Suitableness to the present Callamity, which has been the Portion of this Place, than for the aptness of the Circumstances, 'twas spoken of God going to Chastise, a Powerful, Populous, Wealthy and most reprobate City. _Nineveh_ was the Seat of a mighty Empire, a Wealthy Encreasing People, Opulent in Trade, Flourishing in Power and Proud in Proportion. The Prophet does not seem to deliver these words, to the _Ninevites_, to convince them, or encline them to consider their own Circumstances and repent, but he seems to speak, it to the _Israelites_ inviteing them to Triumph and Insult over the Heathen adversary, by setting forth the Power of their God, in the most exalted Terms. And that this is a just Exposition of this Text, seems plain from the words Imediately going before, _the Lord is slow to Anger, and Great in Power and will not at all acquit the wicked_. These words could have no Connexion with the Text, tho' they are joyn'd with them in the same Verse, if it were not meant of his being slow to Anger, to his own People, and Terrible to the Heathen World, and this being spoken as an Expression of his being not easily provoked as to his Church, the Subsequent part of the Verse tells them how his power and Vengance is matter of particular Satisfaction to his People as being exercis'd in Revenging the affront put upon his Glory by his Enemies, _God is Jealous, and the Lord Revengeth, the Lord Revengeth and is Furious, the Lord will take Vengeance on his adversaries and he reserveth wrath for his Enemies_. Tis plain this is meant of his Enemies, but as if brought in with a Parenthesis, tis spoken for the comfort of his Church, the Lord is slow to Anger as to them, and to lift up their hearts in a further confidence that their Enemies are all in his hand, he goes on discribing the Terrors of his Judgement. _The Lord has his way in the Whirl-wind and in the Storm, and the Clouds are the Dust of his Feet._ Eloquent Flourishes upon the Omnipotence of God. The short Exposition I shall make of the words, Tends only to remind us that the Whirl-wind and Storm which are here made use of, to express the Magnipotent power of God are acted by his Direction, _he has his way in them_, it may note indeed the Invisible secrecy and swiftness of his providences, but to avoid long Paraphrases, I confine my self to my own Construction, as that which, as it is a just inference from the matter of the Text, so 'tis most suitable to the design of this discourse. And as this Sermon may be a little Immethodical, because I purpose to make it almost all Aplication so I shall advance some Conclusions from the Premises which I lay down, as the Geneuine sence of the Words. 1. The Omnipotence of God gives Christians sufficient ground to Insult their Enemies, _wherefore do the Heathen Mock thy People and say unto them where is now your God? Behold our God is in the Heavens, and doeth whatsoever he pleaseth_; as the Prophet _Elija_, Banter'd the Heathen Priest of _Baal_, with the Impotence of their Gods, Cry aloud for _he is a God, either he is talking or he is Pursuing, or he is in a Journey, or Peradventure he Sleepeth and must be awakned_, so he insulted them about the power of the true God, _let it be known O Lord says he this day that thou art God in Israel_. 2. As God in all the works of his Providence, makes use of the subserviency of means, so the whole Creation is Subordinate to the Execution of his Divine will, _the Clouds are the Dust of his Feet and he rides upon the Wings of the Wind_, the most Powerful Elements are so subjected to his almighty power that the Clouds are but as Dust under his feet, tis as easy for him to Govern and mannage them; as it is for a man to shake off the Dust from his feet, or he can as easily subdue the fury of them as a man Tramples the Dust, they are small and Triffling things, in his Eyes. 3. The ways of God are unsearchable, the Methods of his Providence are secret and powerfull; his way is in the Whirle-wind, and in the Storm, tis invisible and iresistible, invisible as the Wind, and iresistible as the Storm. But waving these and abundance more usefull observations which might be justly drawn from so rich a Text, I shall proceed upon one which tho' it favours something more of private authority, and I have not so Authentick Opinion of the Learned Commentators, on my side, yet I shall endeavour not to Merit much Censure, in the Improvement of it, even from those who perhaps may not joyn with me in the Exposition. According therefore to my own private opinion of these words; I shall for the present occasion only Paraphrase them thus, that _the Lord has a way_ or an end _in the Whirle-wind, and in the Storm_, nor is this a very unusual Method of expressing things in Scripture, where the way is Exprest, to signify the design, or end of a thing. And from this Exposition I advance this head. That as God by his power Governs the elements, so in all their Extraordinary Motions, they are in a Perticular manner acted by his Soveraignity. And, 2. When the Creation is put into any Violent or Supernatural Agitation, God has always some Extraordinary thing to bring to pass, _he has a meaning in all the Remarkables of Nature_. 3. We ought dilligently to observe the extraordinary actings of Providence, in order to discover and Deprecate the displeasure of Almighty God, Providences are never Dumb, and if we can not discern the signals of his Anger, we must be very blind. The Voice of his Judgements is heard in the Voice of Nature, and if we make our selves Deaf, he is pleas'd to make them speak the Louder, to awaken the stupifyed sences, and startle the World, which seem'd rather Amus'd than Amas'd, with the common Course of things. This I take to be some of the true meaning of the way of God, in the Whirle-wind, and in the Storm. The design of this Discourse therefore, is to put the Nation in general upon proper Resolutions; if we pretend to believe that there is any such thing as a Collateral Sympathy, a Communication of Circumstances, between a Nations Follies, and her Fate. Any Harmony between Merit and Mischief, between the Crimes of Men and the Vengeance of Heaven; we cannot but allow this _Extra_-Pulpit admonition to be just. And let not any man Object against this being call'd a Sermon, and its being introduc'd from a Text of Scripture while the remainer of this Discourse, seems wholly Civil and Political. If all our Measures in Civil affairs were deduc'd as Inferences from sacred Texts, I am of the Opinion the Text would be well improv'd, and Publick matters never the worse Guided. And for this reason, tho' the Subject be not Treated, with the Gravity of a Sermon, nor in so serious a manner, as would become a Pulpit, yet it may be not the less suitable to the occasion and for the manner, it must be placed to the Authors account. Besides the Title I think has provided for the Method and If so he that expected it otherwise than it is tis his Fault, and not Mine. The Term Sermon which is but _Sermo_, a Speech, may Justify all the Novelty of my Method if those who find fault please to give themselves leave to allow it, and since it has never profain'd the Pulpit, I believe the Text will receive no Prejudice by it, I wish every Sermon equally Improv'd. And what tho' your Humble Servant be no Man of the Text; if he be a Man of Honesty, he may have a hand in making you all Men of Application. In publick Callamities, every Circumstance is a Sermon, and every thing we see a Preacher. The trembling Habitations of an Unthinking People Preach to us, and might have made any Nation in the World tremble but us; when we were rock'd out of our Sleep as Children are Rock'd into it; and when the terrible Hand of Soveraign Power rock'd many a Wretch from one Sleep to another, and made a Grave of the Bed, without the Ceremony of waking in the Passage. The shatter'd Palaces of our Princes Preach to us, and tell us aloud, that without respect to Dignity, he is able to put that Dreadful Text in Execution; _That if a Nation does wickedly they shall be destroy'd both they and their King_. The fallen Oaks, which stood before to tell us they were the longest liv'd of all God's Creatures, Preach to us, and tell us that the most towring object of humane Beauty and strength must lye humble and prostrate, when he is pleased to give a Check to that Splendor which was deriv'd from his Power. The Wrecks of our Navies and Fleets Preach to us, that 'tis in vain we pretend to be Wall'd about by the Ocean, and ride Masters of the Sea: And that, if he who bestow'd that Scituation upon us thinks fit, he can make that Element which has been our Strength, and the Encreaser of our Wealth, be the Grave of our Treasure, and the Enemy of our Commerce; he can put it into so violent Agitation, by the blast of his Mouth, that all our Defence and the Naval Strength we have vallued our selves so much upon, shall at once be swallow'd up in the Mouth of our Friend the Sea; and we shall find our Destruction in the very thing from which we expected our Defence. Our Seamen and Soldiers, whose Dead Bodies Embrace the _English_ Shores, Preach aloud to us, that whenever we think fit to Embark them on any Design, which Heaven approves not of, he can blast the Embrio, and devour those People whose Hands are lifted up against Justice and Right. Also they Preach to us, Not to build our hopes of Success upon the multitude of Ships or Men, who are thus easily reduc'd, and the Strength of a whole Nation brought to Ruine in a Moment. These are the Monitors of our Missfortunes, and some of these admonitions would be well preach'd from the Mouths of those whose Tallent as well as Office gives them reason to do it, and us to expect it. But since the Sons of the Prophets have not yet thought it proper to enter very far into this Matter, not doubting but they will in due time find it as suitable to their Inclination as 'tis to their Duty, In the mean time let us see if no uncommon Application may be made of so uncommon a Circumstance. First, 'tis matter of wonder that any Man can be so senceless, as to suppose there is nothing extraordinary in so signal an Instance of a Supream Power; but 'tis much more remarkable that those who have Religion enough to own it a Judgment, are yet at a loss how to appropriate it's signification. Every one thinks it to be a Judgment upon the Person or Parties they see touch'd with it. _W----_ the Carpenter was knock'd on the head with a Stack of Chimneys, and his Wife saved; all the Neighbours cried out 'twas a Judgment upon him for keeping a Whore; but if Stacks of Chimnies were to have fallen on the Heads of all that keep Whores, _Miserere Dei_. _S----_ was kill'd by the like Accident, and he must be singl'd out for Extortion; But think ye that he was a Sinner above all the _Gallileans_? The _Jacobites_ and _Non-Jurants_ shall rise up in Judgment against this Generation, and shall condemn them, for they tell us, this Storm is a Judgment on the whole Nation, for Excluding their Lawful Soveraign, and Abjuring his Posterity: Upon this head they have been preaching up Repentance, and Humiliation to us; and some of them are willing to reduce all to a very practical Exhortation, and tell us, we ought to look upon it as a Loud Call to Restore the Right Owner (as they call him) to the Possession of his own again; that is, in short, to rebel against a Mild, Gentle, Just and Protestant Queen, and call in the Popish Posterity of an abdicated Tyrant. These Gentlemen are Men of Uses and Application, and know very well how to make an Advantage of God's Judgments, when they serve their turn. The _Whigs_ and _Occasional Conformists_ shall rise up in Judgment against this Generation; for they are sensible of the present severe Stroke of Providence, and think 'tis a mark of Heavens Displeasure upon the Nation, for the violent methods made use of by some People against them, for their Religion, contrary to their Native Right, and the Liberty of their Consciences. Some think a general Blast follows all the Endeavours of this Nation against the Common Enemy, for their slighting and reproaching the Glorious Memory of the late King _William_, whose Gallant Endeavours for the general good of _Europe_, and of _England_ in particular, were Treacherously thwarted and disappointed while he was alive, and are Basely and Scandalously undervalued and slighted now he is Dead; and of this sort I confess my self enclined to be one. From these general Observations we may descend to particulars, and every one judges according to their own Fancy. Some will have it, that the Slaughter and Destruction among the Fleet, is a Judgment upon them, for going into the _Streights_, and coming home again without doing any business; but those forget, that if they did all they were ordered to do, the Fault lies in those who sent them, and not in they that went. Some will have the Damage among the Colliers to be a Judgment, upon those who have Engross'd the Trade, and made the Poor pay so dear for Coals; not enquiring whether those Engrossers of the Coals are not left safe on Shore, while the poor Seamen are drown'd, who know nothing of the matter. 'Tis plain to me, who ever are Punish'd by the Storm, we that are left have a share in the Judgment, and a Trebble concern in the Cause. If it could be said that those who are destroy'd, or who have suffered the loss of Lives, Limbs or Goods, were the only People who gave any occasion to the Divine Justice thus severely to Revenge it self, then all admonition to the rest of Mankind would be useless, any farther than it directed them to be Cautious how they provoked him in like manner; but have we not all had a hand in the general provocation, though not an equal share in the general Calamity. Sometimes the Judgements of Heaven, bear so much Analogy to the Crimes, that the Punishment points out the Offence, and 'tis easy to distinguish what it is the perticular hand of Justice points at. And if we will seek for a Perticular case, in which Heaven seems to have singled out this way of Punishment on the Nation, as best proportion'd to the general National Crime we are all guilty of? what seems more Rational than to Judge that tis a severe Animadversion upon the Feuds and Storms of parties kept up among us in this Nation, with such unnatural Heat, and such unaccountable Fury, that no man, who has the least Compassion for his Native Country, but must with more than Common Grief, be concerned for it, since unless some speedy course be taken to bring a general Composure upon the minds of Men, the general ruin seems Inevitable. If the matters in Debate were of Extraordinary Consequence, there might be some pretence for Espousing contrary parties with unusual heat; but while the difference lies in small, and, in some cases, indifferent things, tis a most inexcusable Madness that the Feuds shou'd be run up so high, that all manner of Charity should Perish and be lost among us. We have had an Extraordinary Bustle in the World about Moderation, and all Parties pretend to it, and now we are as busy about Peace, and every one lays in a Loud Claim to it. I have seen, with some regret, the strange Mysterious Management of this Age about Moderation, and tho' some late Authors have Published that Moderation is a Vertue, It begins to be a question whether it is or no. I wish some Body would make enquiry after the occasion that has brought this Blessed Word into so much Contempt in the World; tis very hard that a word expressive of the most Glorious Principle in the World, should become the Brand of reproach, and a Badge of Infamy to Parties; be a Nick-name it self, and be Nick-nam'd on every side; and that at a time when the Vertue it self, is perhaps the only thing left in the World, that can preserve this Nation from Destruction. 'Tis too unhappy for _England_, that Men of immoderate Principles are so powerfull as they are. Let the Party be which it will, tis Destruction even to themselves, to run up all their Niceties and all their Scruples to the Extremes. Every Dispute becomes a Feud, every Spark a Flame, every word a Blow, every Blow, a Civil-War, and by this Intestine Confusion of Principles, Backt with the Passion and Fury of Men, this unhappy Nation is Subdivided into an Infinite Number of Parties, Factions, Intrests and seperate Opinions. Every Man being thus bent upon the propagation of his own Notion, for want of this healing Spirit of Moderation, falls foul upon his Neighbour because he has not the same Heat, and if he finds him better Temper'd than himself, if he finds him less Violent, less Furious, than himself, he is Imediately Branded with the Scandal of Moderation. Since then the Change of times has made this Practice, which in its very Nature is a Foundation of Vertue, become a Crime, Let us examine who are, and who are not Guilty of it. For the Negatives of this Vice of Moderation they are something Easier to be discover'd than ordinary, both in Principles and in Practice; and, without the Scandal of a Censorious Writer, I may be allowed to say all the following Instances may stand clear of this Crime. 1. If Mr. _Sachaverell_, with his Bloody Flag, and Banner of Defiance, were Indicted for Moderation, I verily believe no Jury would bring him in Guilty. 2. If Dr. _J----ne_, Author of the Character of a Low-Churchman, Mr. ---- Author of the New Association, if a famous Bishop who told us, 'twould never be well with _England_ till all the Dissenters were serv'd like the _Hugonots_ in _France_, if any of these were Indicted for Moderation, they might safely plead not Guilty. 3. If Sir _John Friend_ and Sir _William Parkins_, had been only accus'd for Moderation, they had never been Hanged, nor _Collyer_ and _Cook_ had never absolv'd them at the Gallows without Repentance. 4. If he were Hang'd for Moderation, who ask'd the Question, _whether if the Play-house in Dorset-Garden, were let for a Meeting-house, 'twould not do more harm than tis like to do as a Theatre_, he would certainly Dye Innocently. 5. If _Fuller_ had been Voted an Incorrigible Rogue only for the Vice of Moderation, I should have thought the House of Commons had done him wrong. 6. If the Councellors of the late King, such as Father _P----_, my Lord _S----_ and all those that betray'd their Master, by hurrying on his ruin and their own. If those Gentlemen were Charged with Moderation, I doubt we should wrong them. 7. If some of the Members of our Late Convocation shou'd be accused for Moderation, I believe it might be no Difficult task to Vindicate them. 8. If this Crime should be Charged higher than we dare to mention, I am perswaded some Persons of Note would think themselves abused. 9. In short all those Gentlemen, by whatsoever Names or Titles Distinguish'd, who repine at the Settlement, who reproach the Tolleration, and who Blame the Queen for her promises of Maintaining it, these abhor the thoughts of this Scandalous Crime of Moderation, and are as Innocent of it as the Child unborne. 10. Tis the Opinion of some People, That there are some of our beloved Friends in _Scotland_, may be Vindicated in this case, nay others are of the Opinion, tis not a National Crime in that Country, that is, 'tis not a sin the _Scots_ are much adicted to. 11. Lastly, Take our English Clergy in general, some are ready to say they have no great cause of Repentance for the sin of Moderation. On the other hand, some People have so home a Charge of this Error laid upon them, that 'twill be very hard to clear themselves of it, and I am afraid they would be brought in Guilty by a Jury, almost without going away from the Bar. as, 1. Our Observator, they say, is Guilty of Moderation, with Relation to his Wit, and Especially as concerning his good Manners; I hope he wont be prosecuted for it the next Sessions, if he should, I doubt, 'twill go hard with him. 2. If our News-writers should be Indited for Moderation, as to Truth of Fact, I would advise them to plead Guilty, and throw themselves upon the Mercy of the Court. 3. Some of our Captains, they say, are addicted to Fight but Moderately; I hope all the rest wont be Infected, but I know not what to say to it. 4. Some of our Lawyers are apt to be very Moderate in their Justice, but being well read in the Law are cunning enough to keep off an Indictment, so there is no fear of them. 5. Some of our General Receivers, when they got the Publick Money in their hands, were apt to be very Moderate in paying it out again. 6. Some have been very Moderate in giving in their accounts too, as may appear in former Reigns, and perhaps in time to come too. Some Moderately Wise, some Moderatly Honest, but most Immoderately adicted to think themselves Both. Tho' I might be a little more serious upon the matter, yet this way of talking is not so much a Jest neither as it looks like; and has its Moral, in it self, which a Wise man may see, and for the Fool tis no matter whether he does or no. Custome has prevailed upon us to such a degree, that almost in every part the very Practice seem a Scandal, and the Word passes for a Reproach. To say, among the Sons of _Levy_, such a man is a Moderate Church-man is to say he is no Church-man, and some of our present Bishops from the Practice of Moderation have been boldly call'd Presbiterians in the Pamphlets of our less Moderate writers. In short, 'tis hard to find any party or profession of Men among us, that care for the Title; and those who but Moderately espouse an Intrest, are generally suspected by those who are of that side, as Persons Favouring their Enemies. These Moderate Men, said a Gentleman whose Gown and Band had given us reason to expect better Language, they will Ruin the Church, this Damn'd Moderation, says he, spoils all, we should deal well enough with the Dissenters, if it were not for these men of Moderation, they are worse than Dissenters, for they seem to be among us, and yet wont Joyn heartily to do the Work. Moderation seems to be cast off on every side, and is used as a Badge of reproach in every Class, or degree of Men in the World. In the Church of _England_, 'tis call'd Low-Church. In the Court, 'tis call'd Whiggism. In the Dissenters, 'tis call'd Occasional Conformity. In Parties, 'tis call'd Trimming. In Religion, 'tis call'd Latitudinarian. In Opinion, 'tis call'd Indifference, In the Church of _Scotland_, 'tis call'd Prelacy. While Moderation of principles seems thus the general Sin of Parties, Let them consider whether Heaven it self has not declar'd War against us all on this Head, and fill'd us with immoderate Judgements. Where's all our prospect of success Abroad, or prosperity at home? Since our late Thanksgiveing for Victories, how has Heaven Treated us, but like a Nation, that being puff'd up and exalted with prosperity, began to slight Forreign Judgements, and leaving Providence to Work by it self fell to making War at home with one another, as if we would prove that the Scripture was not true _and that a Kingdom might stand tho' it were divided against it self_. How has Heaven declar'd that he is resolv'd not to bless this immoderate Generation? How has all their Measures been disappointed both abroad and at home, all their designes been blasted, and the Anger of Heaven so remarkably bent against them, that even the little success we have had, has been prescrib'd by Providence to those few hands who Act from Principles of Honesty and Temper, as if God did thereby point out to us who they are he delights to bless. The _D----_ of _M----_ is a Whig _say some of our People who Hate all Moderation_, he is so _Dutchify'd_, we shall never have any Good of him, why that may be, but yet you see there is not one Article of our Conduct has succeeded but what has been under his Mannagement. And Heaven has declar'd so Eminently against all other Branches of our Affaires, that I wish I am mistaken when I say 'tis plain either he seems to mislike the Cause or the Persons employ'd, and that however severe he was pleas'd to Anminadvert upon the Publick affaires in the late Violent Tempest, it seems that _for all this his Anger is not turned away but his hand is Stretched out still_. But what has a Sermon to do to enquire, may some say, and if it had, how shall it make appear whether God is displeased with our designs or the Persons employed, with the cause or the Carryers of it on. As to the cause, all men are Judges of the Justice of it, and all men know the Foot of the present Confederacy, at least our part must be Just as it is to Maintain our just Rights, Liberty, Trade and Religion. It must then be the Persons, the _R----s_, the Sir _G----s_, _G----ns_, the _R----ks_ of this War; that Heaven is resolv'd shall not be the men, whom he will honour with the Deliverance of his People. All wise Princes in the World have made it a constant Maxim in their Governments, that when any of their great Generals prove Unfortunate, tho' never so Wise, they lay them by, as Persons that God does not think fit to bless with success, and 'tis not needful to examine whether it were not their fault, but to be Unfortunate is to be told from Heaven, that such a one is not the Man, and a Nation ought to understand it so. But sure when Heaven Singles men out by Crossing their attempts _and Marks them for unfortunate_, and we can give our selves good reasons why they are thus Mark'd by the Divine displeasure; when we can see their false steps, their General designs against God and their Countries Intrests, 'tis high time then for those who sit at the Helm of Government, to Change hands and put their affaires into such Persons Conduct, against whom Heaven has not declar'd so plainly its Displeasure, nor the Nation its Dislike. Why shou'd the Queen be desir'd to Chain down her own Happiness and the Nations Interest, to the Missfortune of a few Men. Perhaps God may Bless the Fleet under one Admiral, when he will not under another. I know nothing against Admiral _Callemburgh_, he may be an Honest and worthy-man, and ready enough to Fight for the cause, for indeed most of the _Dutch_ Captains of Ships are so, but since Heaven has now 'twice refus'd to let him go, and driven him back again, if I were the Governour of his Masters affairs, he should not be sent a Third time, least we should seem obstinately to Employ somebody that God himself had declar'd against and had three times from Heaven forbid to go. I hope no Body will Construe this to be a Personal Satyr upon _Myn Heer Callemburgh_, But _take it among ye_, let it go, where it Fitts best. If these are not the Generation of Men that must do the Nations business, then 'tis plain our Deliverance will never be wrought while they are employ'd; If God will not bless them he will never bless us till they are dismist. I doubt not we shall be deliver'd, and this Nation shall yet Triumph over her Enemies; but while wrong Instruments are Employ'd the Work will be delay'd. _God would have a House built him_ But _David_ was not the Man and therefore the Work was put off till _Solomon_ was in the Throne. God would have _Israel_ go into the Land of _Canaan_ and possess it, but those Generals and those Captains were not the Men; _Moses_ and _Aaron_, and the great Men of the Camp were not such as God approv'd off and therefore _Israel_ could not go over _Joardan_ till they had laid their Bones in the Wilderness. _England_ is hardly ever to pass over the _Jourdan_ before her, till these Immoderate Men of Strife and Storms are laid by. If any man ask me why these men shou'd not perfect the Nation Peace as well as other men? _I do not say which Men nor who_, but let them be who the enquirer please, I answer the Question, with a question _How shou'd men of no Moderaion bring us to Peace_. How shou'd Men of strife bring us Peace and Union: Contraries may Illustrate but Contraries never Incorporate; Men of Temper, are the safe men for this Nation. Men of heat are fit to Embroil it, but not to Cure it: they are something like our Sea Surgeons who fly to Amputation of Members upon every slight Fracture, when a more proper Application would effect the Cure and save the Joynt. 'Tis an ill sign especially for _England_ when Wars abroad wont make us Friends at home. Foreign dangers us'd to Unite us from whence Queen _Elizabeth_, has been said to leave this Character of the Nation behind her, that they were much easier to be Govern'd in a time of War than in Peace. But when This, which us'd to be the only Cure of all our diseases, fails us, 'tis a sign the Distemper is Grown very strong, and there is some more than usual Room for despair. The only Way left the Nation is to obtain from those in power, that Moderation may cease being the pretence and be really the practice. It would be well all men would at least _be Occasional Conformists_, to this Extraordinary principle; and when there is such a Loud call to Peace both from Heaven and from the Throne, they would do well to consider who are the Men of Peace and who are not: For certainly those Immoderate Gentlemen, who slight the Proposals for a general Union of Charity, cannot pretend to be Friends to the present Intrest of their Native Country. These men, 'tis true, Cry out of the danger of the Church, but can they make it appear that the Church is in any danger from Moderation and Temper; can they pretend that there is no way to secure her, but by pulling down all that differ with them, no way to save her but by the ruin of her Protestant Brethren; there are Thousands of Loyal honest Church-men, who are not of this mind; who believe that Moderation and Charity to Protestant Dissenters is very Consistant with the safety of the Church and with the present general Union which they Earnestly desire. As to Persons we have nothing to say to them, but this, without pretending to prophesy, may be safely advanced, that Heaven it self, has Eminently declared it self against the Fury and Immoderate Zeal of those Gentlemen, and told us as plainly as possible, unless we would Expect a Voice from on high, that he neither Has nor Designs to bless this Generation nor their proceedings. When ever our rulers think fit to see it, and to employ the Men and the Methods which Heaven approves, then we may expect success from abroad, Peace at home, prosperity in Trade, Victory in War, plenty in the Field, Mild and Comfortable Seasons, Calm Air, Smooth Seas, and safe Habitations. Till then we are to expect our Houses Blown down, our Pallaces Shatter'd, our Voyages broken, our Navys Ship-wreck'd, our Saylors Drown'd, our Confedrates Beaten, our Trade ruin'd, our Money spent and our Enemies encreased. The Grand dispute in this Quarrelsome Age, is against our Brethren who Dissent from the Church; and from what principle do we act? it is not safe say they to let any of them be entrusted in the Government, that is, it is not profitable to let any Body enjoy great Places but themselves. This is the Bottom of the pretence, as to the safety of it. These are the People who Cry out of the Danger from the Dissenters, but are not concerned at our Danger from the _French_; that are frighted at the Dissenters who as they pretend grow too Formidable for the Church, but are not disturb'd at the Threatning Growth of a Conquering _Popish_ Enemy; that Deprecate the Clouds of Whiggism and Phanaticism, but apprehend nothing of the Black Clouds of God's Threatning Judgements, which plainly tell them _if they would suffer themselves to think_, that there is somthing in the general practice of the Nation which does not please him, and for which the hand of his Judgements is extended against us. These are strange dull-sighted men, whose Intrest stands so directly between them and their understanding that they can see nothing but what that represents to them; God may Thunder from Heaven with Storms upon Storms, Ruin our Fleets, Drown our Sailors and Blow us back from the best Contriv'd Expeditions in the World, but they will never believe the case affects them, never look into their own Conduct to see if they have not help'd to bring these heavy Strokes upon the Nation. How many Thousands have we in _England_, who if the whole _Navy_ of _England_ had been at Stake; had rather have lost it than the _Bill against Occasional Conformity_; that had rather the _French_ should have taken _Landau_ and Beat the Prince of _Hess Cassell_, than the Queen should have made such a _Speech for Peace and Union_; that had rather the _Duke_ of _Bavaria_ should have taken _Ausburgh_, than that there should not have been _some Affront put upon the House of Lords_. And if such Zealots, such Christian Furies are met with by Providence, and see both the _Fleet_ and the _Occasional Bill_ lost together is it not plain, what Providence meant in it. He that can not see that God from on high has Punish'd them in their own way and pointed out the Crime in the Vengeance must be more blind than usual, and must shut their Eyes against their own Consciences. 'Tis plain Heaven has suited his Punishment to the Offence, has Punish'd the Stormy Temper of this Party of Men with _Storms of his Vengeance, Storms on their Navies, Storms on their Houses, Storms on their Confederates_, and I question not will at last with _Storms in their Consciences_. If there be any Use to be made of this matter, 'tis to excite the Nation to Spue out from among them these Men of Storms, that Peace, Love, Charity and a General Union may succeed, and God may Bless us, Return to us and delight to dwell among us, that the Favour of Heaven may Return to us, and the Queen who has heartily declared her Eyes open to this needful happiness, may enjoy the Blessing of Wise Counsellors and Faithful Servants, that Constant Victory may Crown all our Enterprizes, and the General Peace of Europe may be Established. If any one can tell us a way to bring all these Blessed ends to pass, without a General Peace of Parties and Interests at home, he is Wellcome to do it, for I profess It is hid from my Eyes. _FINIS._ 
48349	----	Transcriber's Notes: Every effort has been made to reproduce the original text as printed. Words in italics in the original are surrounded by _underscores_. Words in small caps in the original have been converted to upper case. _The Religious and Loyal Subject's Duty considered, with regard to the present Government and the Revolution._ A SERMON PREACHED in the CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF _CANTERBURY_, ON _Wednesday_, JANUARY 30. 1722-3. Being the Anniversary Fast Of the Martyrdom of K. _CHARLES_ I. _Published at the Request of the Prebendaries then present._ By _ISAAC TERRY_, M. A. Late of CHRIST-CHURCH, _Oxon._ _LONDON_: Printed for R. KNAPLOCK, at the _Bishop's-Head_ in St. _Paul_'s Church-Yard. 1723. Prov. xxiv. 21. _My son, fear thou the Lord, and the King: and meddle not with them that are given to change._ THERE is no need that I should acquaint any who are here present with the sad occasion of this anniversary solemnity; nor need I, I suppose, use many words to raise in you a just abhorrence of that most execrable parricide, which we are now bewailing. To be sure we do all of us, from the very bottom of our hearts, detest and abominate it; unless we have been all this while in this holy place prevaricating with God and man, and adding a feigned humiliation to the number of our former provocations. AS it ought to be the earnest prayer and endeavour of all good men and loyal subjects, that no such wickedness may hereafter be committed among us, to the reproach of our nation, and of the holy Religion which we profess: so is it particularly incumbent on the ministers of the Gospel, to press upon men the due observation of those laws, which the most high hath enacted for the security and support of his vice-gerents on earth; and to caution men against those pernicious principles and practices, which in the last age brought a most excellent and gracious Monarch to the block; and quite overthrew our constitution in church and state: and which in all ages, if a timely stop be not put to them, will produce the like tragical effects, as having a natural tendency to subvert government, and to introduce anarchy and confusion amongst mankind. FOR which reason I have chosen for the subject of my following discourse, this solemn charge of the wise King _Solomon_ to his Son; _My son, fear thou the Lord and the King: and meddle not with them that are given to change_. In which words are bound upon us three rules of life, very necessary to be observed by all who would not be deemed enemies to the publick peace and tranquility. The first is, _To fear the Lord_. The second is, _To fear the King_. The third is, _Not to meddle with those that are given to change_. OF each of these injunctions I shall discourse in order, and shall shew in what latitude, and with what restrictions, they are to be understood; how highly reasonable they are, and of how great importance to the preservation of human society, and the maintenance of the magistrate's authority. THE fear of God is a duty equally obliging persons of all ranks and conditions, at all times, and in all places; and in its full extent comprehends all other duties. It has for its foundation, all the glorious attributes and perfections of God; but more especially his omniscience, his holiness, his justice, and his almighty power. For they who are firmly persuaded, that all their actions, and words, and thoughts, are open to the view of the Deity; that [A]_he is of purer eyes than to behold evil with approbation, and cannot endure to look on iniquity_; that he will one day judge all men in righteousness according to their works; and that the united force of all the creatures of the universe cannot hinder him from executing the terrible sentence which he shall then pass upon the transgressors of his laws; they who do, in good earnest, believe these things to be true, and frequently and seriously consider them, will of course be very careful not to incur the displeasure of the Almighty, by doing those things which he hath forbidden, or by neglecting to do what he hath commanded. Hence, in Scripture, the fear of God is often used to signify the whole of Religion: because in all who live under the influence of it, it is a very powerful principle of constant and uniform obedience to the divine laws. [A] _Hab._ i. 13. THE fear of the King too comprehends the whole duty of a subject to his soveraign. To fear the King is, to yeild to him that homage, and submission, and obedience, which the laws of God, and of the land, do require: chearfully to contribute towards the supporting his royal honour and dignity, and the supplying the necessities of the state; to labour every one of us in our own sphere to defeat the expectations and contrivances of his enemies, and to promote the peace of his government, and the success of his designs; and continually to pray to him who disposeth of all events, to protect his person, to direct his counsels, and prosper his undertakings; to demean our selves towards him with profound reverence, to speak honorably of him, to think of him with aw, to entertain the most favourable opinion of his character, and to put the best construction upon his actions; and finally, to render due honour and obedience to all inferior magistrates and officers, who act by his commission, and in subordination to him. THE reasonableness and necessity of all this, will appear by shewing, that nothing less than this, will fully answer the ends of government; and that the contrary practices are very injurious to the authority of princes, and do tend to the disturbance and dissolution of society. GOVERNMENT it is clear cannot subsist, where there are none who will submit to be governed, and own their dependance upon their governours: there can be no soveraign, where there are no subjects; no commanders, where none will obey. TO call any one King, and at the same time to rebel against his authority, what is this but to mock him with an empty title? And it is nearly the same case, when subjects, though they do not take up arms against their soveraign, do withdraw from him those supplies without which his government cannot be upheld. IN the natural body all the members, even those which are esteemed the most ignoble and inconsiderable, do their office for the preservation and well being of the whole: and in the political it is as fitting that all the members, even those which are in a private station, should, as their circumstances will allow them, exert themselves for the security and prosperity of the whole community. The protection which the authority of the magistrate affords to all, lays an obligation upon all to unite in the defence of it against the attempts of its enemies, which sometimes can no otherwise be repelled than by the united endeavours of all. It gives great encouragement to the adversaries of a state to observe, that those who do not side with them, are not very hearty and diligent against them. The government that is negligently defended, will quickly be vigorously assaulted; and with too great probability of success, when even its friends shew no other mark of friendship to it, than the forbearing to join with its enemies. THE obstructions and difficulties, with which the management of the publick affairs is necessarily attended, are so many and so great, that the soveraign has need of all the assistance his subjects can lend him for the removing them. Should they industriously lay unnecessary ones in his way, his designs for their safety and benefit, must in all likelyhood miscarry. THEY who can be helpful no other way, have surely great reason to sollicit heaven, to guard, and guide, and assist those who are continually watching for their welfare. And since without the divine aid all human counsels and labours are vain; they who can be most serviceable to their soveraign by their wisdom, or valour, or treasure, must by no means think themselves excused from assisting him by their earnest and constant prayers. And if those, who barely omit this duty, are not to be accounted good subjects; they are certainly very bad ones, who dare to imprecate the judgments of heaven upon their governours. IRREVERENT carriage to the person of the prince, and the speaking contemptuously and dishonourably of him, have a direct tendency to lessen his people's veneration for him, which is a main prop of his government. The speaking evil of princes, is commonly a prelude to some attempt against them; it being found by experience, that the way to weaken and undermine their authority, is to blast their reputation. Many perhaps, who are instrumental in spreading scandalous reports of their governours, have no such wicked intention; but if they have not, they are certainly very serviceable to those that have; nor are they to be excus'd who listen and give credit to them. Such, tho' at present they are not active in carrying on any traiterous designs, yet give grounds to hope that they may be wrought upon, and in time made fit for purposes, to which, as yet they are, strangers. When once men have cast off all inward awe of their prince, and have given entertainment to an ill opinion of him; they are then very much exposed to the attacks of discontented and factious persons. BEFORE subjects credit evil reports of their prince, they ought to consider that it is the employment of many, to render him either contemptible or odious to his people: that to this end many false things are laid to his charge, his real defects and miscarriages are very much magnified; the ill success of his undertakings is charged upon his mismanagement, tho' perhaps no diligence nor vigilance, nor providence (so far as it is in man's power to provide against contingencies) was wanting on his part; and his very best designs, laid and conducted with the greatest wisdom, and perfected with all desireable success, are represented as prejudicial and pernicious to the common-weal. And they who can suffer their affections to be by those means alienated from their present soveraign, will not be long pleased with any: nor can any government be quiet, or secure, where these artifices are practised with success. THE authority of the supreme magistrate must of necessity be exercised by many subordinate officers: and to dishonour or disobey these, is, in effect, to dishonour and disobey him, by whose commission they act. And tho' it be for the interest of the publick, that they should account for wilful abuses of the power committed to them; yet all unreasonable clamours against them, are of dangerous consequence to the government, and do indeed threaten the soveraign himself, who may be mortally wounded thro' the sides of his ministers. IT has been before observed, that the laws of God, and of the land, are the measures of submission and obedience to the King. Wherefore no one ought, from what has been now said, to infer, that in limited monarchies, where part of the legislative authority is lodged in the body of the people, the subjects are obliged to obey any edicts of the prince not agreeble to the laws enacted by the whole legislature. In this case, since the power of the people is so far coordinate with that of the prince, that without them no new laws can be enacted, nor former laws abrogated; they may justly require to be governed by the laws made with their own consent, and by no other. And should this right of the people be set aside, and no redress obtained upon their humble petitions and representations; the prince must take to himself the blame, if they have recourse to other means absolutely necessary for the preservation of their constitution. On the other hand, it is incumbent on the people to see, that their grievances are real, and not pretended; that their complaints are founded not upon meer surmises and jealouses, but upon notorious facts; and that while they are asserting their own right, they do not invade that of their soveraign, nor make any thing matter of demand, but the restoring and securing to them what is their due, by laws already established. MOREOVER, since God is the supreme Monarch of the universe, the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords; since his power alone is unlimited and irresistible; and by consequence, the primary and most proper object of men's fear; it is manifest, that no human laws whatsoever, can bind men to act contrary to the divine. Nothing can be more unreasonable, than to obey God's vice-gerent in opposition to God himself, and to suffer the fear of a less power, to prevail against the fear of a greater. The text teaches us, in the first place, _to fear the Lord_, and then _the King_. Should the King command not to fear the Lord, it is better to endure all that he can inflict, than to do what he commands? We are indeed commanded[B], _to render to Cæsar the things that are Cæsars_; but we cannot without impiety withhold from _God the things that are Gods_: that we may render to _Cæsar_ more than is his due. The Apostles, when they were reprimanded by the high-priest for not obeying the charge given them by the _Sanhedrim_, to teach no more in the name of Jesus, answered plainly, that they [C]_ought to obey God rather than man_. And a disciple of St. _John_ being brought before the magistrate for Christ's name sake, answered to the same purpose; "[D]We are taught to pay to the powers and authorities ordained of God, all due honour, excepting such only as would be hurtful to us." For to Christians, that honour and obedience must needs appear hurtful, which, tho' it may screen them from the displeasure of an earthly governour, who can kill the body only, will draw upon them the wrath of God, who can destroy both body and soul in hell. [B] _Matt._ xxii. 21. [C] _Acts_ v. 29. [D] _Euseb. Hist. Eccles._ lib. 4. cap. 15. BUT tho' the fear of God must, in case of competition, take place, before the fear of the King; yet ought it not to be made a pretence for refusing to render to the King the fear which is owing to him. The fear of God is so far from releasing subjects from their duty to their prince, that it is the surest ground of it, and the strongest motive to it. For since the King is the minister of God; they who do indeed fear God, will of course fear him who is in the place of God, and acts by authority derived from him. And whatsoever honour or service they are to yield to him, they will yield it heartily, not as to a man, but as to him whom he represents, the all-seeing and all-powerful God. TO such men human laws have a much stronger sanction, than the penalties annexed to the violation of them by the legislature. They are subject for fear, not only of the magistrates wrath, but of that everlasting punishment, which God will inflict upon all who will not submit to the powers ordained by him. THE firmest and most inviolable ingagement by which subjects can oblige themselves to be faithful to a government, is a solemn oath, which is render'd effectual to its end by the fear of God, who is therein invocated as a witness to the sincerity of the swearer's intention, and as the avenger of his perfidiousness should he break through so sacred a tye. BUT to those who have no awe of this omniscient witness, no dread of this almighty avenger, no oaths will be binding any longer, than they are agreeable to their inclination. And it will be their inclination to do every thing with a view to worldly advantages. The ground and measure of their obedience to the prince, will be their secular interest; the variation of which will be apt to produce an answerable change in the conduct. For they will have no motive to loyalty left, when they may turn rebels with impunity, and be gainers by an alteration of governnment. BUT the fear of God being always the same, is a very steady principle of loyalty. It secures the obedience of subjects in many cases, where the laws either do not reach them, or cannot be executed upon them; and keeps them true to the interest of their soveraign, when other considerations might induce them to betray or desert it. Even they who would persuade us that there is no such being as God, or if there be, that he observes not what passes here below, cannot but own that the fear of him is a principle very friendly to government, and of great use to dispose men to be peaceable and submissive to those who are in authority. THE more inexcusable were the actors in this days horrid tragedy, who made the fear of God the cloak of treason; and in direct contradiction to the precept of St. _Peter_, set themselves to resist [E]_every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake_, turning faith into faction, and religion into rebellion: who under a specious pretext of reforming the Church, filled their native country with blood and desolation, trampled upon its laws, and triumphed in the ruin of its constitution: who fasted and prayed, not for the safety of the King, and all that were in authority, that under them they might lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty; but for strife and debate, and to stir up sedition and insurrection against those whom God had set over them: who, professing a mighty reverence for the divine majesty, rushed upon the most abominable perjuries; first of all violating the oaths which they had taken to the King and established government, by entring into illegal covenants and engagements, and illegally imposing them upon others; and then breaking loose from these also, when they were no longer for their turn: who, with a shew of more than ordinary sanctity and concern for the honour of God, practised all the diabolical arts of defamation and calumny against his image and representative; and not contented with slandering the foot-steps of the Lord's anointed, and blackening his character, deprived him of his royal dignity, barbarously insulted his sacred person, and at length imbrued their hands in the blood of a king, who was an illustrious example to his subjects of genuine piety and sobriety, and meekness and patience, and all other christian vertues: who lastly proceeded to this high pitch of disloyalty and impiety, when all grievances had been long ago redressed, and the King had passed such acts, as will be everlasting monuments of his fatherly affection and tenderness for his people; when he had to the great prejudice of his own interests granted several things, which his subjects could not with justice demand, nor ask with any degree of modesty; nay, when he had consented to part with the best and most considerable branches of his royal authority, and to leave to himself little more than the title of a King: in doing which, as he went beyond the example of his predecessors, so it is to be hoped he will never be followed by any of his successors. [E] _1 Pet._ ii. 13. BUT tho' the fear of God was the pretended inducement to all these villanies; yet nothing can be more certain than that they are truly to be ascribed to the want of it. Wherefore none ought to cast of a principle absolutely necessary to the very being of government, meerly because the external profession of it has been abused to the worst Purposes by crafty and ill-designing men, who were destitute of the inward power of it. On the contrary, it is our duty not to let it rest upon the surface of our tongues, but to give it admittance into our breasts, and to implant it deeply in our hearts; and then it will not fail to bring forth the fruits of peaceableness and submission, of obedience and loyalty to the Government under which the merciful providence of almighty God hath placed us; and to restrain us from all seditious and traiterous practices, and from all approaches towards them. For they who would avoid any Crime, must be careful to avoid the steps that lead to it. For which reason the wise king to keep his son from engaging in designs against the State directs him not to meddle with Changers, or, according to our translation, _with them that are given to change_. IN which direction, it was not the intention of king _Solomon_, to condemn all changes in the laws and government of a kingdom. The supreme power, which in every independent State, is lodged somewhere or other, manifestly implies a power to make such alterations as shall from time to time be judg'd convenient and advantageous. And in the different circumstances of the publick affairs, some changes in the laws will be often necessary, or very expedient; and when they are made be sufficient authority, it is without controversy the duty of subjects to submit to them. And even private persons, when the present laws of their country are very inconvenient and prejudicial to the interests of the people, may lawfully desire an alteration of them, and may commendably endeavour to effect it in a legal manner, by making humble and dutiful application to those who are vested with the legislative power. BUT they are changers in the bad sense of the word, who go about to change the laws and settled government of a nation, without the consent of those who have authority to do it; or who by illegal and violent methods endeavour to extort the consent of their governours to such terations as they shall propose; as by clamours and menaces and tumultuous assemblies; by forming secret conspiracies, or by openly bearing arms against their soveraign, and by entring into covenants, not to lay down their arms, till they have obtained their unjust demands. They too who by any kind of disloyal Behaviour, or seditious discourse, manifest their aversion to the established government, may with reason be suspected of being given to change; altho' it be not yet their avowed design to effect a change. BY forbidding us to meddle with them that are given to change, King _Solomon_ would restrain us, not only from acting in concert with them, and assisting them in carrying on their mischievous designs; but also from engaging in friendship and familiarity, or any unnecessary correspondence with them. IT is no easy matter, to converse much with men of a factious and turbulent spirit, without being infected by them. The best way to preserve ourselves, both from their crime and their punishmenr, is to keep at a distance from them. And this I take to be the true meaning of the wise man's advice, in the xxii. Chapter of this book of _Proverbs_, at the 24th, and 25th verses, _Make no friendship with an angry man, and with a furious man thou shalt not go. Lest thou learn his ways, and get a snare to thy soul._ By often hearkening to the plausible discourses of seditious persons, utter'd with a seeming concern for the publick welfare, many come at length to approve of them, and highly to esteem those who make them, for their great understanding, and honesty, and disinterested zeal for the good of their country; and to believe that their governours are not so good as they ought to be, and that some changes for the better are both possible and needful. And they who have got thus far, will be too apt to be prevailed upon, to take some unlawful steps towards the reforming of supposed disorders, without imagining what purposes they are serving, and how far their leaders intend to carry them. And when men are once engaged, they themselves cannot tell where they shall stop. One wickedness may introduce them to another, till they become principal actors in the execution of designs, with which they could not have been safely trusted at their first setting out. PUT the case, that the main secret when revealed to them should displease them; yet after a considerable progress in unlawful courses, it will be very difficult for them to retreat. The shame of acknowledging themselves to have been in the wrong, the apprehension of being reproached for deserting their companions, and the fear of suffering punishment for having accompanied them so far, will be strong temptations to them to proceed farther against the bent of their own inclinations, and the convictions of their consciences. Should they, notwithstanding these temptations to the contrary, resolve to be no longer directed by those who misled them; yet what they have already done, may have consequences fatal to the publick. By their assistance, the enemies of the government, may be grown strong enough to compass their ends, not only without their farther concurrence, but in spite of all the opposition they can make. And it will then be a mortifying consideration to reflect, that they have been accessory to villanies which they abhor, of which, however they must be content to bear the blame. The criminal assistance which they gave to men worse than themselves, will entitle them to a share in their guilt; and they will be in some measure answerable for the unforeseen consesequences of their unlawful practices. AND yet the best and honestest thing, which persons thus entangl'd can do, is to get rid of their bad company as soon as possible, to be sorry for what mischief they have already done, and to endeavour, by their future conduct, to make reparation for it. And the design of what has been now said, was not to discourage any from forbearing to meddle any longer with them that are given to change, but to persuade all who are as yet innocent, never to meddle with them at all, but industriously to avoid them; not to pass by their path, but to _turn from them and pass away[F]. For they sleep not, except they have done mischief, and their sleep is taken away, unless they cause some to fall._ Wherefore they cannot be too diligently guarded against, by those who would preserve themselves not only from guilt, but from trouble and perplexity and ignominy, and from that calamity and ruin, which (as we are informed by the verse following my text) _shall come suddenly upon them that are given to change, and upon those who meddle with them_. [F] _Prov._ iv. 14, 15. THE unparallel'd treason committed on this day, and all the confusions and miseries preceding it, and consequent upon it, may justly be ascribed to the neglect of this most necessary caution. Indeed it can hardly be doubted, but that from the beginning of those unhappy troubles, or very soon after, there was a party of desperate men, who had in view the utter subversion of the establish'd government, and were resolved to stick at no villany that might conduce to the accomplishing their end. But their numbers in those early days, were much too small to bring about the change they aim'd at, or even to protect them from the just vengeance which the nation would certainly have taken upon them, had they then dar'd to own their intentions. Wherefore they found it necessary to cover their real designs, under the specious pretences of remeding abuses, and securing the liberties of the people, and rectifying what was amiss both in church and state. BY this artifice, multitudes of undiscerning and unwary people, were drawn into their assistance, and to a criminal union with them, and when these instruments of theirs had for a considerable time been accustomed to traduce the King and his ministers, exceedingly to aggravate the errors they had committed, and to charge them with odious designs, which they knew nothing of, to brand all who honestly adher'd to the King and the ancient constitution, with names and characters of reproach, and to terrify them not only by threatnings, but by outrages and tumults; when they had broken forth into open rebellion against their soveraign, and in contradiction to the lawful oaths, which they were under to him, had bound themselves by unlawful covenants and associations, not to rest till they had compelled him to comply with such alterations as they judged expedient; when they had laid wast their country, and shed much christian blood in their unjust quarrel, and had several times rejected the gracious overtures of peace made to them by the King, when by these means the breach between him and them was so widen'd, that it was hardly possible to compose it upon conditions safe and honourable to them both; when by long familiarity, with disloyalty and treason, the consciences of great numbers of men, were harden'd, and grown perfectly insensible; and when the enemies of the King had got into their hands the whole power of the nation, and his friends could no longer make head against them; then was it a proper time for the contrivers and directors of all this mischief, to discover to those who had been subservient to them their true designs against the person and government of the King. And doubtless there were many concurring and assisting to the monstrous wickedness, the punishment of which, we do this day deprecate, who, had it been propos'd to them some years before, would have been struck with horror at the mention of it, and who could no otherwise have been made capable of committing it, than by being artfully trailed on, step by step, from the meddling with them that are given to change, to the becoming such themselves, from one perjury to another perjury, and from less treasons to greater. IT is true too, that many who had been active, both in kindling and prosecuting the war, were startl'd at the unprecedented proceedings against the person of the King, and publickly express'd their dislike of them. But fruitless protestations were but pitiful compensations for the successful services they had done to his murtherers, whom they had continued to assist and strengthen, till it was to no purpose to make opposition to them. It was then out of their power to undo the mischiefs which they had been the authors of, or to hinder others from making a farther use of them, than they themselves had intended. Thus were they unawares made instrumental to the shedding the innocent and sacred blood of their soveraign; the guilt of which horrible deed must be imputed not only to those who were immediately concerned in it, and consenting to it, but in a lower degree to those also, who made way for it, by the unwarrantable practices, which have been already mentioned. THE greater reason have we, brethren, to be exceeding careful not to tread in their steps, lest we also fall in like manner as they fell. Their miscarriages are our admonitions, and we shall be more inexcusable than they, if instead of taking warning by them, we follow their example. I AM sensible it will be said, That we do imitate them, at the same time that we blame them; that the prayers which we have now offered for the averting the divine wrath due to the sin of this day, and for the safety and prosperity of our present gracious soveraign, are a contradiction to one another; and that the late revolution was a return to the principles of those who were concerned in the great rebellion. And there are two sorts of men, who, tho' opposite enough to each other, will be apt to concur in making this objection: the one with a design to justify the murther of the Royal Martyr, or at least the measures which prepared the way for it; the other with an intention to condemn the happy revolution, upon which our present settlement is founded. NOW, to what hath been already observed, with a view to this objection, I need only to add, That these two cases, which some would fain have us believe to be nearly alike, are widely different. IT is well known, That the rebellion against King _Charles_ the first was begun, when all grievances (which in his reign were far from amounting to a total subversion of the constitution) had been fully redressed and repaired. And it was the declared resolution of those who engaged in it, not to defend, but to change the laws and settled form of government, and to encroach upon the just rights of their soveraign; who laboured indefatigably to maintain the established laws and government; who by the laws, to which he had without compulsion consented, had given sufficient proof, that he was as willing to secure his peoples rights as his own; and who was so far from affecting power, that did not belong to him, that his greatest weakness was, that he did not hold fast the rains of government in his hands, but parted with his authority too easily, and made too large concessions to those who were not disposed to make him suitable returns. When the rebels had got the mastery, they then actually compleated a far greater change, than they had at first professed to desire. A high court of justice was erected for the judging and condemning the King himself as a criminal; the whole royal family were excluded from succeeding to the crown; and kingly government itself was declared against and abolished, and several illegal forms of government were one after another set up in the room of it. BUT in the reign of the late King _James_, no redress of grievances, no opportunity of redressing them in a parliamentary way, could be obtained. Instead of being removed they were justified by pretending, that the King had a power to dispense with the laws at pleasure. And it was very visible that the King and his ministers governed by this pernicious and tyrannical maxim. Now this was plainly a subversion of the constitution, by changing the government from limited to absolute, from legal to arbitrary. When the power of the people prevailed, they made it very evident, that the motive to the measures they had then taken was necessity, and not the being given to change. No remedy was so much as sought for against the person of the King. No prejudice was manifested against the illustrious family, which had long swayed the scepter of these kingdoms: but all possible regard was shewn to it. The King himself had render'd the setting of the crown upon a person who now pretends to it impracticable; tho' the nation had been ever so well satisfied concerning his birth. But it was immediately settled upon the King's undoubted issue then in the kingdom, and upon a grandson of the Royal Martyr; and afterwards, in default of the issue from them, upon the next branch of the royal family professing the Protestant Religion; with whom alone our constitution could with any prospect of security be entrusted. Nor was there any invasion of the royal prerogative; but the same government in church and state was chearfully submitted to by the people; as on the other hand the liberties of the people were faithfully defended by the crown. In short, of two changes, one of which was at that time unavoidable, the nation preferred the less to the greater, and that which was safe and advantageous to that which would have been very disadvantageous and destructive. WHICH things considered, no man should offer to draw a parallel betwixt the late Revolution and the great rebellion, till he is able to demonstrate, That there is no difference between the doing no manner of hurt to the person of the King, and the executing him publickly as a malefactor; between the settling the crown upon his undoubted issue, and excluding the whole royal family from it without any other necessity than what arose from the guilt of those who excluded them; between the peoples asserting their own undoubted rights, and their invading the undoubted rights of their soveraign; between insisting upon the regular observation and execution of the established laws, and fighting for an alteration of them; between preserving the ancient constitution and utterly overthrowing it from the foundations; or in other words, between just and unjust; between right and wrong. WHEREFORE, Brethren, let us stop our ears against those, whose doctrines open a door to disobedience and rebellion against lawful authority; and no less against those also who would insinuate that our present governours have no claim to the submission, which they acknowledge to be due to lawful magistrates. The powers which now are, are ordained of God; and ordained in mercy to us, for the security of our lives and properties and liberties, and of what we ought to value above all the rest, our most holy Religion. And heavy will be the condemnation of those, who shall refuse to submit to him who is the minister of God to them for good. LET us therefore, laying aside all pride and contentions, all jealousies and discontents, set our selves to perform what we know to be our duty to him who is vested with the authority of God: not with eye-service as men-pleasers, not with murmurings as of necessity, but in singleness of heart and with a ready mind, as in the sight of God, as having his fear before our eyes, and remembring that he will bring us to a strict account not only for the sins committed immediately against himself, but for every offence against his substitute, who by him reigns and decrees justice. IF we dread not the penalties of human laws; yet let us revere the ordinance of God. Let us consider by whom we have sworn; and let destruction from him be a terror to us. If there be any who dare bid defiance to that; let us mark such and turn away from them. Let us not be so weak as to imagine that they can have any real concern for religion, or the interest of their country, who can prevail with themselves, or would prevail with others, to violate the oath of God. We cannot surely be at a loss to conclude, what kind of spirits have taken possession of those men, who are not to be bound, no not with chains; who break in sunder the strongest bonds of government, and cast away its cords from them. LET our behaviour be suitable to our professions on this solemn day of humiliation. If we do indeed detest the crimes of those cruel and unreasonable men who gave occasion for the observance of it; if we would not for the world be the authors of such dreadful calamities as they by a long train of wickedness brought upon their nation; if we are sincere in imploring the mercy of God, that he would not visit their guilt upon us or our posterity: let us take heed that we do not fill up the measure of their iniquities by a repetition of them: let us not cherish the seeds which are apt to produce such bitter and deadly fruits: let us not enter upon courses, which, for ought we know, may end in the crimes we detest. TO conclude, let us not separate what God hath joyned together, religion and loyalty, the fear of God and of the King. Let us esteem loyalty as a necessary part of Religion, and assure ourselves that we are doing God acceptable service while we are serving his representative. Let loyalty to the King mingle itself with our most solemn acts of divine worship. In our thanksgivings let us devoutly acknowledge the many blessings we enjoy under his Government: and in return let us by our prayers draw down the choicest blessings of heaven upon him; most earnestly beseeching the Almighty to enrich him plenteously with grace here, and crown him with everlasting glory hereafter; to prolong his life in health and wealth, and to perpetuate his seed as the days of heaven; to guide him with his spirit of councel, and to strengthen him with his mighty arm, for the establishment of truth, and the maintenance of justice, both at home and abroad; to hide him in time of danger under the covert of his wings, and to shield him with his strong salvation; that the conspiracies formed against him may not prosper, and the devices of wicked men may be turned backwards and light upon their own heads; that all the people may hear and fear to do wickedly, and the crown may flourish upon the head of the Lord's Anointed. _FINIS._ 
26441	----	HUMANITY IN THE CITY. * * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible; please see list of printing issues at the end of the text. * * * * * [Illustration: E. H. Chapin] HUMANITY IN THE CITY. BY THE REV. E. H. CHAPIN. NEW YORK: DE WITT & DAVENPORT, PUBLISHERS, 160 & 162 NASSAU STREET. BOSTON: ABEL TOMPKINS, 38 & 40 CORNHILL. * * * * * Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by DE WITT & DAVENPORT, In the Clerk's Office of the U. S. District Court for the Southern District of New York G. W. ALEXANDER, BINDER, 9 Spruce Street. W. H. TINSON. STEREOTYPER, 24 Beekman Street. TAWS, RUSSELL & CO. PRINTERS, No. 26 Beekman Street. * * * * * CONTENTS. PAGE I. THE LESSONS OF THE STREET 13 II. MAN AND MACHINERY 39 III. THE STRIFE FOR PRECEDENCE 65 IV. THE SYMBOLS OF THE REPUBLIC 93 V. THE SPRINGS OF SOCIAL LIFE 123 VI. THE ALLIES OF THE TEMPTER 157 VII. THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR 187 VIII. THE HELP OF RELIGION 223 * * * * * PREFACE. A volume like the present hardly requires the formality of a preface. It is the continuation of a series already published, and, like that, aims at applying the highest standard of Morality and Religion to the phases of every-day life. In order, however, that the view with which these discourses have been prepared may not be misconceived, I wish merely to say that I am far from supposing that these are the only themes to be preached, or that they constitute the highest class of practical subjects, and shall be sorry if in any way they seem to imply a neglect of that interior and holy life which is the spring not only of right affections, but of clear perception and sturdy, every-day duty. I hope, on the contrary, that the very aspects of this busy city life--the very problems which start out of it--will tend to convince men of the necessity of this inward and regenerating principle. Nevertheless, I maintain that these topics have a place in the circle of the preacher's work, and he need entertain no fear of desecrating his pulpit by secular themes, who seeks to consecrate all things in any way involving the action and the welfare of men, by the spirit and aims of His Religion who, while he preached the Gospel, likewise fed the hungry, healed the sick, and touched the issues of every temporal want. I may have failed in the method, I trust I have not in the purpose. E. H. C. _New York, May, 1854._ THE LESSONS OF THE STREET. HUMANITY IN THE CITY. DISCOURSE I. THE LESSONS OF THE STREET. Wisdom crieth without; she uttereth her voice in the streets.--PROVERBS, i. 20. The great truths of religion may be communicated to the mind and the heart in two ways--by abstract treatment, and by illustration. It must be taken up in its absolute connection with God, and with our own souls. In solitary meditation, in self-examination, and in prayer, we shall learn the intrinsic claims which Faith and Duty have upon reason and conscience. But we cannot proceed far before we discover the necessity of some _symbol_, by which these abstract principles may be made distinct to us. And, looking around for this purpose, we find that all the phases of existence are full of spiritual illustration--full of religious suggestion and argument. Thus our Saviour pronounced his great doctrines of Eternal Life, and of Personal Religion, and then turned to the world for a commentary. Under his teaching nature became an illuminated missal, lettered by the lilies of the field, and pencilled with hues that played through the leaves of Olivet. The wild birds, in their flight, bore upward the beautiful lesson of Providence, and the significance of the Kingdom of Heaven was contained in a mustard-seed. By no abstruse reasoning did he make his instructions so vivid to his disciples, and so fresh to ourselves. But he awoke the conviction of moral need, and repentance, and Divine Love, by drawing from instances with which they had been familiar all their lives--the procedures of government, the transactions of business, the labors of the husbandman, and the incidents of home. And the result is essentially the same, whether we start with the religious truth to find some illustration in the world around us, or from some aspect of human life, or nature, extract a religious truth. Nor need this always be sharply obvious. It is only necessary that our point of view be sufficiently elevated to throw a spiritual light upon things, and to reveal their moral relations; for, often, our understandings are cleared, and our hearts made better, by the mere scope and tendency of such observations. With this conviction, I called your attention, last winter, to some of the "Aspects of City Life," and with the same view, I wish now to address you, for a few Sunday evenings, on the Conditions of Humanity in the City, in which series I shall endeavor not only to present new topics of interest, but to urge more explicitly some points, which, in the afore-mentioned discourses, I merely touched upon. The essential meaning of the personification in the text is in accordance, I think, with the general tenor of remark which I have just been making. For I understand it to mean, that everything is instructive, that even in the common ways of life the most important truths, and the profoundest moral and religious significance, are contained. And the words before us, also, specifically indicate the subject upon which I wish to speak this evening, for they declare that "Wisdom... uttereth her voice in the streets." The street through which you walk every day; with whose sights and sounds you have been familiar, perhaps, all your lives; is it all so common-place that it yields you no deep lessons,--deep and fresh, it may be, if you would only look around with discerning eyes? Engaged with your own special interests, and busy with monotonous details, you may not heed it; and yet there is something finer than the grandest poetry, even in the mere spectacle of these multitudinous billows of life, rolling down the long, broad, avenue. It is an inspiring lyric, this inexhaustible procession, in the misty perspective ever lost, ever renewed, sweeping onward between its architectural banks to the music of innumerable wheels; the rainbow colors, the silks, the velvets, the jewels, the tatters, the plumes, the faces--no two alike--shooting out from unknown depths, and passing away for ever--perpetually sweeping onward in the fresh air of morning, under the glare of noon, under the fading, flickering light, until the shadow climbs the tallest spire, and night comes with revelations and mysteries of its own. And yet this changeful tide of activity is no mere lyric. It is an epic, rather, unfolding in its progress the contrasts, the conflicts, the heroisms, the failures,--in one word, the great and solemn issues of human life. And a few comprehensive lessons from that "Wisdom which uttereth her voice in the streets," may prove a fitting introduction, from which we can pass to consider more specific conditions of humanity in the city. Taking up the subject in this light, I observe that the first lesson of the street is in the illustration which it affords us of the _diversities of human conditions_. The most superficial eye recognizes this. A city is, in one respect, like a high mountain; the latter is an epitome of the physical globe; for its sides are belted by products of every zone, from the tropical luxuriance that clusters around its base, to its arctic summit far up in the sky. So is the city an epitome of the social world. All the belts of civilization intersect along its avenues. It contains the products of every moral zone. It is cosmopolitan, not only in a national, but in a spiritual, sense. Here you may find not only the finest Saxon culture, but the grossest barbaric degradation. There you pass a form of Caucasian development, the fine-cut features, the imperial forehead, the intelligent eye, the confident tread, the true port and stature of a man. But who is this that follows in his track; under the same national sky, surrounded by the same institutions, and yet with those pinched features, that stunted form, that villainous look; is it Papuan, Bushman, or Carib? Fitly representing either of these, though born in a Christian city, and bearing about not only the stamp of violated physical law, but of moral neglect and baseness. And no one needs to be told that there are savages in New York, as well as in the islands of the sea. Savages, not in gloomy forests, but under the strength of gas-light, and the eyes of policemen; with war-whoops and clubs very much the same, and garments as fantastic, and souls as brutal, as any of their kindred at the antipodes. China, India, Africa, will you not find their features in some circles of the social world right around you? Idolatry! you cannot find any more gross, any more cruel, on the broad earth, than within the area of a mile around this pulpit. Dark minds from which God is obscured; deluded souls, whose fetish is the dice-box or the bottle; apathetic spirits, steeped in sensual abomination, unmoved by a moral ripple, soaking in the slump of animal vitality. False gods, more hideous, more awful, than Moloch or Baal; worshipped with shrieks, worshipped with curses, with the hearth-stone for the bloody altar, and the drunken husband for the immolating priest, and women and children for the victims. I have no terms of respect too high for the brave and conscientious men who carry the gospel, and their own lives, in their hands to distant shores. But, surely, they need not go thus far to _seek_ for the benighted and the debased. They may find there a wider extent of heathenism, but none more intense than that which prevails close by the school and the church. The richest products of modern progress and Christian culture grow on the verge of barren wastes, and jungles of violence, and "the region of the shadow of death." In the street, however, not only do we behold these different degrees of civilization, but those problems of diversity, which the highest form of existing civilization developes--the diversities of extreme poverty, and extreme wealth, for instance. Here sits the beggar, sick and pinched with cold; and there goes a man of no better flesh and blood, and no more authentic charter of soul, wrapped in comfort, and actually bloated with luxury. There issues the whine of distress, beside the glittering carriage-wheels. There, amidst the rush of gaiety; the busy, selfish whirl; half naked, shivering, with her bare feet on the icy pavement, stands the little girl, with the shadow of an experience upon her that has made her preternaturally old, and it may be, driven the angel from her face. Still, we cannot believe that above that wintry heaven which stretches over her, there is less regard for the poor, neglected child, than for that rosy belt of infant happiness which girdles and gladdens ten thousand hearths. And here, too, through the brilliant street, and the broad light of day, walks Purity, enshrined in the loveliest form of womanhood. And along that same street by night, attended by fitting shadows, strolls womanhood discrowned, clothed with painted shame, yet, even in the springs of that guilty heart not utterly quenched. We render just homage to the one, we pour scorn upon the other; but, could we trace back the lines of circumstance, and inquire why the one stands guarded with such sweet respect, and why the other has fallen, we might raise problems with which we cannot tax Providence, which we may not lay altogether to the charge of the condemned, but for which we might challenge an answer from society. And, if we would ascertain the practical purport of this lesson of human diversity which is so conspicuous in the street--the meaning of these sharp contrasts of refinement and grossness, intelligence and ignorance, respectability and guilt--we only ask a question that thousands have asked before us. And yet, it is possible to surmise the purpose of these diversities. We know, for one thing, that out of them come some of the noblest instances of character and of achievement. Ignorance and crime and poverty and vice, stand in fearful contrast to knowledge and integrity and wealth and purity; but they likewise constitute the dark background against which the virtues of human life stand out in radiant relief; virtues developed by the struggle which they create; virtues which seem impossible without their co-existence. For, whence issues any such thing as _virtue_, except out of the temptation and antagonism of vice? How could _Charity_ ever have appeared in the world, were there no dark ways to be trodden by its bright feet, and no suffering and sadness to require its aid? I look at these asylums, these hospitals, these ragged schools--a zodiac of beautiful charities, girdling all this selfishness and sin--I look at these monuments which humanity will honor when war shall be but a legend, and laurels have withered to dust; and when I think what they have grown out of, and why they stand here, I regard them as so many sublime way-marks by which Providence unfolds its purposes among men, and by which men trace out the plan of God. And then, again, perhaps this problem of human diversity presses heaviest where civilization is the most advanced, in order that men may be more sharply aroused to seek some practical solution. It is an encouraging sign when an evil begins to be intensely felt, and the demand for relief becomes desperate. The civilization of our time is imperfect; involves many incongruities; perhaps creates some evils; but that it is an improved civilization, is evinced by the fact that it is _self-conscious_; for perception is the necessary antecedent of endeavor and success. The contrasts of human condition, then, that unfold themselves in the crowded street, may teach us our duty and our responsibility in lessening social inequality and need. But a solution of this problem, clearer perhaps than any other, appears when we consider another lesson of the street; a lesson which requires us to look a little deeper, but which, when we do look, is no less evident than these diversities. That lesson unfolds the essential _unity_ of humanity. For, we find that the differences between men are _formal_ rather than _real_; that, with various outward conditions, they pass through the same great trials; and that the scales which seem to hang uneven at the surface, and to be tipped this way and that by the currents of worldly fortune, are very nearly balanced in the depths of the inner life. We are shallow judges of the happiness or the misery of others, if we estimate it by any marks that distinguish them from ourselves; if, for instance, we say that because they have more money they are happier, or because they live more meagrely they are more wretched. For, men are allied by much more than they differ. The rich man, rolling by in his chariot, and the beggar, shivering in his rags, are allied by much more than they differ. It is safer, therefore, to estimate our neighbor's real condition by what we find in our own lot, than by what we do not find there. And now, see into what an essential unity this criterion draws the jostling, divergent masses in yonder street! Each man there, like all the rest, finds life to be a discipline. Each has his separate form of discipline; but it bears upon the kindred spirit that is in every one of us, and strikes upon motives, sympathies, faculties, that run through the common humanity. Surely, you will not calculate any _essential_ difference from mere appearances; for the light laughter that bubbles on the lip often mantles over brackish depths of sadness, and the serious look may be the sober veil that covers a divine peace. You know that the bosom _can_ ache beneath diamond brooches, and how many blithe hearts dance under coarse wool. But I do not allude merely to these accidental contrasts. I mean that about equal measures of trial, equal measures of what men call good and evil, are allotted to all; enough, at least, to prove the identity of our humanity, and to show that we are all subjects of the same great plan. You say that the poor man who passes yonder, carrying his burden, has a hard lot of it, and it may be he has; but the rich man who brushes by him has a hard lot of it too--just as hard for _him_, just as well fitted to discipline him for the great ends of life. He has his money to take care of; a pleasant occupation, you may think; but, after all, an _occupation_, with all the strain and anxiety of labor, making more hard work for him, day and night, perhaps, than his neighbor has who digs ditches or thumps a lapstone. And it is quite likely that he feels poorer than the poor man, and, if he ever becomes self-conscious, has great reason to feel meaner. And then, he has his rivalries, his competitions, his troubles of caste and etiquette, so that the merchant, in his sumptuous apartments, comes to the same essential point, "sweats, and bears fardels," as well as his brother in the garret; tosses on his bed with surfeit, or perplexity, while the other is wrapped in peaceful slumber; and, if he is one who recognizes the moral ends of life, finds himself called upon to contend with his own heart, and to fight with peculiar temptations. And thus the rich man and the poor man, who seem so unequal in the street, would find but a thin partition between them, could they, as they might, detect one another kneeling on the same platform of spiritual endeavor, and sending up the same prayers to the same eternal throne. But, say you, "here is one who is returning to a home of destitution, of misery; where the light of the natural day is almost shut out, but in which brood the deeper shadows of despair." And yet, in many a splendid mansion you will find a more fearful destitution, a dearth of affections, killed by envy, jealousy, distrust; stifled by glittering formalities; a brood of evil passions that mock the splendor, and darken the magnificent walls. The measure of joy, too, is distributed with the same impartiality as the measure of woe. The child's grief throbs against the round of its little heart as heavily as the man's sorrow; and the one finds as much delight in his kite or drum, as the other in striking the springs of enterprise or soaring on the wings of fame. After all, happiness is the rule, not the exception, even in the hearts that beat in the crowded city; and its great elements are as common as the air, and the sunshine, and free movement, and good health. And what the fortunate may seem to gain in variety of methods, may only be unconscious devices to simulate or recover that natural relish which others have never lost. And no one doubts that the great dispensations of life, the events that make epochs in our fleeting years, cleave through all the strata of outward difference, and lay bare the core of our one humanity. Sickness! does it not make Dives look very much like Lazarus, and show our common weakness, and reveal the common marvel of this "harp of thousand strings?" And sorrow! it veils all faces, and bows all forms alike, and sends the same shudder through the frame, and casts the same darkness upon the walls, and peals forth in the same dirge of maternal agony by the dead boy's cradle in the sumptuous chamber, and the baby's last sleep on its bed of straw. And Death! how wonderfully it makes them all alike who in the street wore such various garments, and had such distinct aims, and were whirled apart in such different orbits! Ah! our essential humanity comes out in those composed forms and still features. Those divergent currents have carried them out upon the same placid sea at last; and the same solemn light streams upon the clasped hands and the uplifted faces. We don't mind the drapery so much then. It seems a very superficial matter beside the silent and starless mystery that enfolds them all. In what I have thus said I do not mean to maintain that outward conditions are nothing. I think they are a great deal; and we do right in striving to improve them; in escaping the evil, and seeking to secure the good that pertains to them. But, I repeat, when we come to the essential humanity, to the real discipline and substance of life, we find the same great features; and so this lesson of the street may help explain the problem suggested by the other; may reconcile each of us to our condition in the crowd, and direct our attention to substantial results. But, again, the street, with its processions and activities, teaches us that much in human life is merely _phenomenal_, merely _appears_. We enter into this truth by a very common train of observation. We know how much is put on purposely for the public gaze, and has no other intention than to be seen; how hollow are many of the smiles, and gay looks, and smooth decencies. And even the complexion of some, with its red and white, is more unsubstantial than all the rest; for it is in danger of being washed away by the first shower. It is strange to meet people whose personal significance in life is that of a shop window exhibiting lace and jewelry; strange to encounter men in whose place we might substitute a well-dressed effigy, and they would hardly be missed. Of course appearances should be attended to, and are good in their place. It is right that we should honor society by our best looks and ways. But it is not merely ridiculous, it is sad, to think how much in the street, where humanity exhibits all its phases, is appearance and but little else. But dress and manners are not all that is phenomenal in human life. These men and women themselves, this streaming crowd, these brick walls and stately pinnacles, those that pursue and the things that are pursued, are only appearances. It may be profitable for us to stand apart from this multitude, this river of living forms, and think in how short a time it all will have passed away; how short a time since, and it was not! A little while ago, and this rich and populous city was a green island, and our beautiful bay clasped it in its silver arms like an emerald. The wilderness stood here, and the child of the forest thought of it as a prepared abiding place for himself and for his people for ever. The red man has gone; the wild woods have vanished; and these structures, and vehicles, and busy crowds, have come into their places magically, like the new picture in a dissolving view. But are these forms of life, is your presence here or mine, any more substantial than those that have sunk away? Nay, all this splendid civilization, what is it but a sparkling ripple in the calm eternity of God? Dwellings, stores, banks, churches, streets, and the restless multitudes, are but forms of life,--as it were a rack of cloud drifting across the mirror of absolute being. That which seems to you substantial is only spectral. And as the dress of the fop, and the smile of the coquette, is merely an appearance; so the wealth for which men strain in eager chase, and the fabrics which pride builds up, the anvils on which labor strikes its mighty blows, and the body to which so much is devoted, and which absorbs so much care, are but appearances also. While that which may seem to you as a shadow--the spiritual substratum of life, the basis of those spiritual laws which run through all our conditions--is the only abiding substance. If we only look in this light, my friends, upon the continuous spectacle of human movement and human change, we shall find that "Wisdom... uttereth her voice in the streets." Old as the thought may be, in the rush of the great crowd it will come to us fresh and impressively, that all this is but a form of spiritual and eternal being. A day in the city is like life itself. Out of unconscious slumber into the brilliant morning and the thick activity we come. But, by-and-by, the heaving mass breaks into units, and one by one dissolves into the shadow of the night. Two cities grow up side by side--the city in which men appear, the city into which they vanish; the city whose houses and goods they possess for a little while and then leave behind them, and the city whose white monuments just show us the pinnacles of their estates in the eternal world. The busy, diversified crowd that rolls through the streets--it is only an appearance! It is a ceaseless march of emigration. In a little while, the names in this year's Directory may be read in Greenwood. But we must not rest with this as the final lesson of the street. It is only the form of Life that is transient and phenomenal; but the _Life_ itself is here, also--here, in these flashing eyes, and heaving breasts, and active limbs. These conditions, however transient, involve the great interest of Humanity; and that lends the deepest significance to these conditions. The interest of Humanity! which gives importance to all it touches, and transforms nature into history; which imparts dignity to the rudest workshop, and the most barren shore, and the humblest grave--this permits us to draw no mean or discouraging conclusions from the achievements and the changes of the multitudes around us. It may do for the skeptic, who sees nothing in existence but these forms of things; who sees nothing but the limited phenomena of our present state, and thinks that includes all; it may do for him to croak over the transitoriness of life, and call it a trivial game. But it is _not_ trivial; and there is no spot where man acts, there is nothing that he does, that is insignificant. Perhaps you have a quick eye for the foibles of people, and can detect their vanities, and meannesses, and laughable conceits. If you employ this gift to correct a bad habit, or expose a falsehood, it is well enough. But if it induces you to look upon things merely with the skill of a satirist, then let me say, there is no "ludicrous side" to life; there is nothing in human conduct that is simply absurd. The least transaction has a moral cast, and every word and act reveals spiritual relations. The interest of man can never be thrown into insignificance by his conditions; these draw interest from him. And, whatever his post in the world, however limited or broad his sphere of observation, for _him_ life is real, and has intense relations. We must not stand so far apart from the crowd as to occupy the position of mere spectators, and regard these men and women as so many mechanical figures in a panorama. We must look through the depths of their experience into their own souls, and through the depths of that experience again upon the world, beholding it as it appears to the beggar, and the lonely woman, and the child of vice and crime, and the hero, and the saint, and as it falls with intense yet diverse refractions upon all these multiform angles of personality. So shall we learn to cherish a solemn and tender interest in the dear humanity around us, and feel the arteries of sympathy which connect it, in all its conditions, with our own hearts. And, as we return homeward from our study of the street, it may be with our irritation, and prejudice, and selfishness softened down; with a larger love flowing out towards the least, and even the worst; realizing the spiritual ties that make us one, and the Infinite Fatherhood that encircles us all; perhaps suggestions will come to us that have been best expressed in the words of the poet-- "Let us move slowly through the street, Filled with an ever-shifting train, Amid the sound of steps that beat The murmuring walks like autumn rain. "How fast the flitting figures come! The mild, the fierce, the stony face; Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some Where secret tears have left their trace. * * * * * "Each, where his tasks or pleasures call They pass, and heed each other not. There is, Who heeds, Who holds them all, In His large love and boundless thought. "These struggling tides of life that seem, In wayward, aimless course to tend, Are eddies of the mighty stream That rolls to its appointed end." MAN AND MACHINERY. DISCOURSE II. MAN AND MACHINERY. For the spirit of the living creature was in the wheels.--EZEKIEL, i. 20. Whatever may have been the significance of the sublime vision from which I have extracted those words, I do not think that their essential meaning is perverted when I apply them to the subject which comes before us this evening. I am not aware of any sentence that expresses more concisely the relation which I would indicate between _Man_ and _Machinery_; between those great agents of human achievement and the living intelligence which works in them and by them. And though a Divine Spirit moved in those flashing splendors which burned before the eyes of the prophet, is it not also a divine spirit that mingles in every great manifestation of humanity, and that moves even in the action of man, the worker, toiling among innumerable wheels? Perhaps if we were called upon to name some one feature of the present age which distinguishes it from all other ages, and endows it with a special wonder and glory, we should call it the Age of Machinery. We trust our age is unfolding something better than material triumphs. The results of past thought and past endeavor are pouring through it in expanding currents of knowledge, liberty, and brotherhood. But the great _agents_ in this diffusion of ideas and principles are those vehicles of iron, and those messengers of lightning, which compress the huge globe into a neighborhood, and bring all its interests within the system of a daily newspaper. Like the generations which have preceded us, we enter into the labors of others, and inherit the fruits of their effort. But these powerful instruments, condensing time and space, endow a single half-century with the possibilities of a cycle. If we take the period comprehending the American and the French revolutions as a dividing line, and look both sides the chasm, we shall discover the difference of a thousand years. Remarkable for brilliant achievements in every department of physics, ours well deserves to be called the Age of _Science_, also. But it is still more remarkable, for the application of the most majestic and subtle constituents of the universe to the most familiar uses; the wild forces of matter have been caught and harnessed. Go into any factory, and see what fine workmen we have made of the great elements around us. See how magnificent nature has humbled itself, and works in shirt-sleeves. Without food, without sweat, without weariness, it toils all day at the loom, and shouts lustily in the sounding wheels. How diligently the iron fingers pick and sort, and the muscles of steel retain their faithful gripe, and enormous energies run to and fro with an obedient click; while forces that tear the arteries of the earth and heave volcanoes, spin the fabric of an infant's robe, and weave the flowers in a lady's brocade. I think, then, we may appropriately call it--The Age of Machinery. It is not a peculiarity of the city, but, rather, seeks room to stretch itself out; and so you may perceive its smoky signals hovering over a thousand vallies, and the echo of its mighty pulses throbbing among the loneliest hills. Nevertheless, it is sufficiently developed here to illustrate the Conditions of Humanity in the City, and this fact, together with the general interest of the subject, is my warrant for taking it up in the present discourse. And my remarks must necessarily be of a general cast, as I have no room for the statistics, and details, and various discussions which grow out of the theme. And the key-note of all that I shall say, at the present time, is really in the text itself--"For the spirit of the living creature was in the wheels." In the first place, these words suggest the relations of _Use_ and _Help_ between Man and Machinery. Upon surveying these numerous and complicated instruments, the thought that most readily occurs, perhaps, is that of the _necessity_ of machinery. The very first step that man takes, out of the condition of infant weakness and animal rudeness, must be accomplished by the aid of some implement. He alone, of all beings upon the face of the earth, is obliged to _invent_, and is capable of endless invention. The necessity for this springs out, and is a prophecy of, his destiny. The moment he was seen fashioning the first tool, however imperfect, that moment was indicated the difference between himself and the brute, and the control he was destined to gain over the world about him. To fulfil this destiny, he confronts nature with naked hands; and yet, there is the earth to plough, the harvest to reap, the torrent to bridge, the ocean to cross; there are all the results to achieve which constitute the difference between the primitive man, and the civilization of the nineteenth century. The Machine, then--the agent which links the gratification to the want--is born of necessity. But we must make a distinction between those instruments which are positively essential, and those, for instance, which merely answer the demands of luxury or indolence. And this brings up the question of the _comparative_ uses of Machinery--the foremost place being assigned to those implements which are absolutely indispensable to man's existence upon the earth. But between this absolute degree, and that of frivolous invention, there are countless grades of utility. And the question of usefulness must be decided according to the _standard_ of utility which we apply. If bare subsistence is assumed to be the end of man upon the earth, most of our modern inventions are useless. We can travel without a locomotive, and procure a meal without a cooking-range. The moment we rise above the grossest conception of human existence, the test of usefulness becomes enlarged, and we can make a safe decision upon whatever increases man's comfort, adds to his ability, or inspires his culture. In this way, new things _become_ indispensable. That which was not necessary _à priori_, _is_ necessary now, in a fresh stage of development, and in connection with circumstances that have sprung up and formed around it. That which was not necessary to man the savage, living on roots and raw fish, is necessary to man the civilized, with new possibilities opening before him, and new faculties unfolded within him. The printing-press was not absolutely necessary to Nimrod, or to Julius Cæsar, but is it not absolutely necessary now? Strike it out of existence to-day, and what would be the condition of the world to-morrow? You would have to tear away with it all that has grown up around it, and become assimilated to it--the textures of the world's growth for three hundred years. Paul moved the old world without a telegraph, and Columbus found a new one without a steamship. But see how essential these agents are to the present condition of civilization. How many derangements among the wheels of business, and the plans of affection, if merely a snow-drift blocks the cars, or a thunder-storm snaps the wires! Our estimate of necessity, and, therefore, of utility, must be formed according to present conditions, and the legitimate demand that rises out of them; these conditions themselves being the necessary developments of society and of the individual. But some of these, you may say, are the demands of luxury, of indolent ease, of man setting nature to work and lapsing in self-indulgence. To some degree this result may grow out of the present state of things; as some portion of evil will follow in the sweep of an immense good. But what is the precise sentence to be passed upon this prevalent luxury? Of course, admitting the evil--which is apparent--I maintain that there is a great deal of good in it; that it is inextricably associated with much real refinement and progress. Men are accustomed to speak of the simplicity and purity of past times, and to compare, with a sigh, the good old era of the stage-coach and the spinning-wheel with these days of whizzing machinery, Aladdin palaces, and California gold. But the core of logic that lies within this rind of sentiment forces a conclusion that I can by no means admit, the conclusion that the world is going backward. I never knew of an epoch that was not thought by some then living to be the worst that ever was, and which did not seem to stand in humiliating contrast with some blessed period gone by. But the golden age of Christianity is in the future, not in the past. Those old ages are like the landscape that shows best in purple distance, all verdant and smooth and bathed in mellow light. But could we go back and touch the reality, we should find many a swamp of disease, and rough and grimy paths of rock and mire. Those were good old times, it may be thought, when baron and peasant feasted together. But the one could not read, and made his mark with a sword-pommel; and the other was not held so dear as a favorite dog. Pure and simple times were those of our grandfathers,--it may be. Possibly not so pure as we may think, however, and with a simplicity ingrained with some bigotry and a good deal of conceit. The fact is, we are bad enough, imperfect, not because we are growing worse, but because we are yet far from the best. I think, however, with Lord Bacon, that _these_ are "the old times." The world is older now than it ever was, and it contains the best life and fruition of the past. And this special condition of luxury is a growth out of the past, and is the necessary concomitant of much that is good. Opening new channels for industry, it furnishes occupation for thousands; while, in many of its phases, it indicates a refined culture, and a sphere elevated above the imperative wants of existence. It is no proof of the disadvantages of machinery, therefore, to say that it ministers to something beside absolute bodily need, and delivers man from a slow and exhausting drudgery. So far as it helps us to control nature, and increases the facilities of human intercourse, and diffuses general comfort and elegance, and affords a respite from incessant physical toil, so far it is an agent and a sign of progress. But, it may be said again, that it is the agent of a selfish and exclusive power, enriching a few and injuring many. And it cannot be denied that grave problems grow out of the relations between Machinery and the laboring classes. Every little while, some new invention is thrust forward, which takes a portion of labor out of the hands of flesh and transfers it to hands of iron. It is not enough to say that mankind in general is benefited by these inanimate agents, which do the work of the world so much more rapidly and powerfully. This may answer as an argument against a monopoly of any one kind of mechanical force. It may be a reason for using cars instead of steamboats, and balloons rather than railroads. The general good must be advanced, whatever the damage to private interests. But the present case brings up the question whether machinery is a general good at all; whether the effect of its introduction into almost every department of labor, will not be felt in the destitution of millions. And, upon this point, I observe, that, like all other great revolutions, the immediate effect may be such as has been suggested. But the final result will be beneficial, and such a result may be traced out even now. For instance, this clogging of old departments of labor will precipitate men upon fresh ones, and upon those that have been too much neglected. It will tend to introduce woman to branches of industry perfectly suited to her, but which have been too exclusively occupied by the other sex, and to turn the attention of robust men to those great fields of productive toil which are as yet but little improved. It may drive them from the dependence, the crowded competition, the unwholesome life of the city, into the broad fields and open air and the sovereignty of the soil. And if this immense intrusion of machinery has only this result, of equalizing the balance against production, we shall have one solution of the problem. And there will be another solution, if this phalanx of mechanism shall lift the mass of men above the occasions of coarse material drudgery into other activities, which doubtless will be thrown open, and shall allow more leisure for spiritual culture. But in this, and all other great questions affecting human welfare, I throw myself back, finally, upon the tokens of Providential Design. The world moves forward, not backward; and the great developments of time are for good, not evil. By machinery, man proceeds with his dominion over nature. He assimilates it to himself; it becomes, so to speak, a part of himself. Every great invention is the enlargement of his own personality. Iron and fire become blood and muscle, and gravitation flows in the current of his will. His pulses beat in the steamship, throbbing through the deep, while the fibres of his heart and brain inclose the earth in an electric network of thought and sympathy. That which was given to help man, will not hinder nor hurt him. "For the spirit of the living creature is in the wheels." I observe, in the second place, that the words of the text accord with the testimony which machinery bears to the _dignity of man_. All these great inventions--these implements of marvellous skill and power--prove that the inventor, or the worker, himself is _not_ a machine. I know of nothing which gives me so forcible an impression of the worth and superiority of mind, of its alliance with the Creative Intelligence, as the exhibition of an ingenious piece of mechanism. I have stood with wonder before such a specimen, and seen it work with all the precision of a reflecting creature. Lifting the most tremendous weights, cleaving the most solid masses, performing the nicest tasks, as though a living intellect were in it, informing it and directing its power. I hardly know of any achievement that stands as a higher witness for the human mind. The great poem that bursts in a flood of inspiration upon the soul of genius, and opens the realms of immortal beauty, may lift us to a nobler plane of endeavor. The heroic act of toil or martyrdom for principle, certainly has a loftier, because it is a moral, grandeur. But as an illustration of the _creativeness_ of man's intellect--of its wondrous capability--of its alliance with that attribute of the Divine Nature which is evident in the fibres of the grass-blade and the march of the galaxy--I know of nothing more striking than this piece of mechanism, which is the product of the most profound and patient thought, the harmonizing of antagonistic forces, the combination of the most abstruse details, fitted to the remotest exigencies, and working just as the inventive mind meant it should, and just as it was set a-going, as if that mind were presiding over it, were in it, though it is now far distant, or has vanished from the earth. That mind is immortal! that nature, which is common to all men, transcends any shape of matter and is superior to mechanism. And it may be necessary to say this, necessary to say that man, who is helped by machinery, is _separate_ from it. It is mind that is thus involved with matter. The spirit of a living creature that is in the wheels. It may be necessary to say this, my friends, and to say it frequently, lest the vast mechanical achievements of our time seduce us into a mere mechanical life. I do not think that the deepest question is, whether machinery will multiply to such an extent as to snatch the bread from the mouths of living men; but whether men, with all the possibilities of their nature, will not become absorbed in that which supplies them with bread alone? I have just expressed my admiration for the genius of the great inventor. Nor can I honor too highly the faithful and industrious mechanic--the man who fills up his chink in the great economy by patiently using his hammer or his wheel. For, he _does_ something. If he only sews a welt, or planes a knot, he helps build up the solid pyramid of this world's welfare. While there are those who, exhibiting but little use while living, might, if embalmed, serve the same purpose as those forms of ape and ibis _inside_ the Egyptian caverns--serve to illustrate the shapes and idolatries of human conceit. At any rate, there is no doubt of the essential nobility of that man who pours into life the honest vigor of his toil, over those who compose this feathery foam of fashion that sweeps along Broadway; who consider the insignia of honor to consist in wealth and indolence; and who, ignoring the family history, paint coats of arms to cover up the leather aprons of their grandfathers. I shall not be misunderstood then, when, making a distinction in behalf of the mechanic by profession, I say that no man should be a mere mechanic in _soul_. In other words, no man should be bound up in a routine of material ends and uses. He should not be a mechanic, working exclusively in a dead system, but always the architect of a living ideal. And surrounded, astonished, served and enriched as we are by these splendid legions of mechanism, the danger is that material achievement will seem to us the _supreme_ achievement; that all life will become machinery; and the higher interests of being, and the great firmament of immortality, be eclipsed by these flashing wheels. We are in danger of being drawn away from the sanctities of the inner life and the still work of the soul, by this maelstrom of excitement and power. No religious man can help asking, and asking anxiously, whether the spirit of devotion is as deep and fresh, whether spiritual communion with God is as direct and constant, in this whirl and roar, and marvellous achievement, as they were in times bearing less evidently the signs of material progress. For, that which merely gives us a stronger grasp of the world around us, and sends us along the level of nature, is not the most genuine element of progress; but that which elevates our moral plane and enriches the great deep of our spiritual being. The steamship and telegraph are not absolute tokens of this progress, but the moral earnestness and the Christian charity that work through them are; and these must spring up in hearts that are not merely adjusted to the world, but lifted above it--that are not so occupied by mere machinery as to neglect the living streams of an inward and devout culture. But, for another reason,--or as an extension of the same reason,--we need to realize the truth that man is separate from and superior to machinery. It is because, upon a practical recognition of this truth depends the just action of all who control the interests of labor, and, so to speak, the lives and souls of the laborers. If we should beware of an influence that would render us _mere_ mechanics in our own higher nature, we should likewise remove anything that makes others mere machines, presenting for us no other consideration than the amount of work they can perform for us, and with how little care and cost. I cannot now enter into the great questions that spring up here concerning the relations of capital and labor, and of the employer and the employed. I only observe that these are among the deepest questions of the time: questions which will be heard, which must be discussed, and practically answered. And they who by plans and experiments, however visionary they may seem, however abortive they may prove, are trying to solve this problem, are much wiser in their generation than those who content themselves with cutaneous palliatives and a stolid conservatism. But I maintain now, that back of all these considerations stands this truism,--that man is not a machine; that the being who toils in the factory, the furnace, the dark mine underground, is one who needs and hopes and suffers and dies, as sinews of iron and fabrics of brass cannot. "The spirit of a living creature is in the wheels." A cry for justice, for free action, for spiritual opportunity, comes not from the roaring engine or the dizzy loom, but out from the midst of those who are endowed with the sensitiveness and the moral possibilities that belong to humanity, and humanity alone. Set in motion the grandest piece of mechanism ever conceived by human genius, and still there is infinite difference between it and the poorest drudge that bears God's image,--between it and any human claim. It must have been a noble spectacle, a few weeks since, to have seen that great ship[A] sail out of port, stretching its proud beak over the sea, and with thundering exultation trampling its sapphire floor. One might have followed its wake with a glistening eye, and said to himself--"There is the great symbol of human progress, there is the consummation of man's triumph over nature! The long results of ages are condensed in that fabric of strength and beauty. Man has compelled the forest, and ravished the mine, and converted the stream, and chained the fire; and now, with the eye of science and the hand of skill, he rides in this triumphal chariot, making a swift, obedient pathway of the deep!" But when that dark day burst upon them, and nature with one angry sweep transformed that splendid palace into a floating death-chamber; when ocean lifted up this triumph of man's skill, and shook it like a toy; the interest which hung over that awful desolation--the interest to which your hearts flow out with painful sympathy to-night--was in nothing that man had achieved, but in humanity itself. All the workmanship, all the material splendor, all the skill, were nothing compared with one heart beating amidst that tempest; compared with one groan that rose from that sea of agony, and then was silent for ever. [Footnote A: This discourse was delivered just after the tidings of the loss of the San Francisco, in December, 1853.] And, again, when I consider the conduct of that gallant captain who, day by day, rode by the side of the shuddering wreck, and in slippery peril maintained the royalty of his manhood, and sent a brother's cheer and a brother's help through the storm; when I think of that noble achievement where the Stars and Stripes and the Cross of St. George were lost and blended in the light of universal humanity; I say to myself--how does an act like this shed light upon a thousand instances of human depravity! What is any material triumph compared to this moral beauty! And what is the great distinction between rags and coronets, between senates and workshops, when in the breast of every man, and everywhere, there is the possibility of such heroism, such charity, and such splendid performance! And so, my friends, turning from this specific illustration, and looking through the wards of cities, the busy factories, the dim attics and cellars, they all become glorious by the reflected light of the humanity that toils and suffers within them. Man is greater than any achievement of mechanism, any interest of capital, and all the questions which these involve must be brought to the test of his moral capabilities, and his spiritual as well as earthly wants. But I observe, finally, that the words of the text suggest the _Providential design_ and the _Divine agency_ that are involved in the great mechanical achievements of our age. As the Divine Spirit flowed through those living creatures and moved those wheels, so God's influence is in the movement of humanity, and in the instruments of that movement. We get only a narrow, and often an inexplicable conception of things, until we behold them encircled by this horizon of a Providential design. And if humanity, with all its claims and possibilities, is involved in this network of mechanism, so doubtless are the processes of Infinite Wisdom. Something more than material greatness, or ends limited merely to this earth, is to be wrought out by it. Indications of this appear already. The telegraph and steamship, for instance, serve not only the interests of trade and commerce, but of liberty, and brotherhood, and of Christian influence. It is beautiful to see how the most selfish agents presently become converted to the broadest uses, and matter is transformed into the vehicle of spirit. For God is in history. It is a Divine dispensation, and has miracles of its own. And, because they come by natural development let us not fail to recognize the benevolence and the significance involved with them. Is not the effect of miracle in the electric wire? The printing-press, is it not the gift of tongues? It is atheistic to suppose that all these wondrous agents have only a narrow and material purpose, and play no part in the highest scheme of the world. Like the prophet by the river Chebar, we may behold them as the symbols in a sublime vision. These wheels within wheels, full of eyes, full of intelligence, and full of human destiny and vast purpose, we know not all their meaning yet. But they have a great meaning. Beneficent intention runs through their swift motions--voices of promise rise in their multitudinous sounds. A living spirit is in these wheels--the influence of God; the spirit of man. And, in due time, out of them will evolve the incalculable issues of human welfare and the Divine glory. THE STRIFE FOR PRECEDENCE. DISCOURSE III. THE STRIFE FOR PRECEDENCE. And if a man strive for masteries, yet is he not crowned except he strive lawfully.--II. TIMOTHY, ii. 5. In walking the streets of the city, there rises the interesting question--What are the various motives which animate these restless people, and send them to and fro? As a French author has well observed,--"The necessaries of life do not occasion, at most, a third part of the hurry." They are comparatively few who struggle among these busy waves for a bare subsistence. There are others who are impelled by some of the deepest affections of the human heart, and who toil day after day with noble self-sacrifice for the comfort of dependent parents, and helpless children. While others still run on errands of mercy, and work in the harness of unrelaxing duty. But when we have taken all these influences into the account, and made the most of them, there remains a large quantity of activity which, as we trace it to its spring, we shall find issuing from a desire for influence, for notoriety, for some kind of personal distinction. The city,--in this instance, as in many others, representing the world at large,--is essentially a race-course, or battle-field, in which, through forms of ambitious effort, and cunning method, and plodding labor, and ostentation, the aspirations of thousands appear and carry on a _Strife for Precedence_. And, in selecting this phase of human life as the theme of the present discourse, I observe in the first place--that the desire for precedence is one of the _deepest_ and most _subtle_ motives in the soul of man. It is prolific of disguises. It is not merely under the mask which we may put on before other people, but it glides through various transformations of self-deceit; like the evil genius in the fairy tale, now dwindling to a mere seed, now bursting into a devouring fire. When, with an honest purpose, we probe it and pluck at it, still we may detect it in the lowest socket of the heart. Often it is most vital when we feel most sure that it is vanquished. It delights in the garb of humility, and finds its food in the profession of self-renunciation. See its grossest expression in the desire for physical superiority--the glory of the victor in the Grecian games, or the modern pugilist with the champion's belt. This is the reason why men, priding themselves upon qualities in which they are equalled by any mastiff and excelled by any horse, will stand up and batter one another into a mass of blood and bruises. And if we analyze the merit of some conqueror upon a hundred battle-fields, we shall find ingredients almost as coarse. Only there was a larger impulse, and more genius to light the way; so that _his_ combat in the ring became _achievement_, and his success _fame_. The outside difference was in the value of the stakes; but the huzzas did not rise much nearer to heaven in the one instance than in the other. And when we get at the real centre of all those plaudits, we find only a little throbbing atom, a little human heart, all on fire with the lust for supremacy. But these are the more palpable shapes of this desire for Precedence. It works more covertly, but with no less energy. I need not--for I cannot--specify all the instances in which it acts. It would constitute a more concise statement to affirm where it does _not_ act. It is sufficiently apparent in the scramble of the market and the parade of the street; at the toilette of beauty; in the etiquette of the drawing-room, where people sit as if in a cavern of icicles; in the spurious patriotism of politics; and too often, it is to be feared, in the highest seats of the synagogue, and where men lift holy hands of prayer. It is the scholar's inspiration. When he comes to the steep and rugged way, it helps him to make a foot-hold, and the thorns blossom into roses as he climbs. Sometimes, even, it saturates the plan of the philanthropist, and peppers the milk of his charity with an inconsistent wrath. It seems an unhappy, as it must often be an unjust method, to attribute any appearance of good conduct to the meanest possible motive. It is a policy that makes a man afraid of his best friends. He feels that every draft he makes upon human honor, or affection, is liable to be cashed with counterfeit bills. If there were no alternative between the cleverness that suspects everybody, and the credulity that trusts everybody, I think I had rather be one of the dupes than one of the oracles. For, really, there is less misery in being cheated than in that kind of wisdom which perceives, or thinks it perceives, that all mankind are cheats. But, while simple fact forbids our assuming either of these extremes, we must, nevertheless, in reasoning upon the phenomena of human conduct, allow large scope for the influence of which I am now treating. For, as I have already intimated, we shall find it lurking under numerous forms. In discussing the question of Slavery, for instance, it is often said--that it is for the interest of the master to take good care of his human as he does of his brute stock--to see that they are well-fed, clothed, &c. And so it is for his _interest_ to do this. But how often does the lust for supremacy over-ride interest itself! How often does an imperious personality thrust itself forward in the most absurd ways, damaging its own property and welfare, just as a boy breaks his top, or a balked rider shoots his horse, or an independent congregationalist locks his pew-door, as much as to say--"There, the world knows one thing about me, at least. It knows that I am _master_ and _owner_ here!" But I observe, further, that, while this desire for Precedence is common among men of all conditions, there are some modes of its expression which are peculiarly excited in a democratic form of society. That which is the open glory of a community like ours, is with many a secret vexation and shame. People boast here of the equality of our institutions, and then try their best to break up the social level. In a genuine Aristocracy, where they have endeavored to preserve a gulf-stream of noble blood in the midst of the plebeian Atlantic, and a man holds his distinction by the color of the bark on his family tree, and the kind of sap that circulates through it, there is no danger of any unpleasant mistakes. The hard palm of Labor may cross the gloved hand of Leisure, and nobody will suspect that the select is too familiar with the vulgar. Consequently, there is a good deal of affability and prime manliness, besides those associations of sentiment and imagination which, if there must be an aristocracy, lend it an artistic consistency. But here, where everybody says that all men are equal, and everybody is afraid they _will_ be; where there are no adamantine barriers of birth and caste; people are anxiously exclusive. And though the forms of aristocracy flourish more gorgeously in their native soil, the genuine _virus_ can be found in New York almost as readily as in London, or Vienna. And the virus breaks out in the most absurd shapes of liveries and titles. And these forms of aspiration are not only absurd because they are inconsistent, but because they illustrate no real ground of precedence. They are superficial and uncertain. They do not pertain to the man but to his accidents. He gains by them no intrinsic glory, no permanent good. To employ the language of the text, by these he strives for masteries; but he does not strive lawfully, and so he is not crowned. And this leads me to say something respecting what is false, and what is legitimate, in that strife for Precedence which is so amply illustrated in the life of the City. Let us, then, consider some of the forms which this struggle assumes in the streets and the dwellings around us. I remark, in the first place, that it inspires much of the effort for _wealth_. I believe there are but few, comparatively, who are anxious to make money merely for the sake of piling it up, and counting it out. There may be a mania of this kind, in which men become enamored of Mammon for his own sake, and hug him to their breasts, and kiss his golden lips, with all the ardor of lovers. Still, I suspect that the genuine miser--that is, one who loves money for itself alone--is an exceptional man. But every man who is not absolutely inactive and useless in the world, is moved by some kind of passion. For, it is not correct to speak of _outliving_ our passions. We may outlive the passion of young, fresh love, that makes the world a May-time of blossoms and of roses. We may outlive the passion for selfish fame, because some transcendent claim of duty snatches us up to a sublimer level. We may change these earlier forms for the passion of philanthropy, the passion for truth, the passion of holy conviction. But so long as we live at all, we do not outlive passion. And with many the most persistent desire is for that precedence which attends the possession of wealth. That miser, as you call him, with a face like parchment, and in whose nature all the springs of emotion seem to have grown rusty with long disuse, is animated by a secret flame that keeps him all a-glow. It is the consciousness of power--the mightiest power of the present age--the power of money. Those figures which he scrawls at his writing-desk involve a more potent magic than the cabalistic cyphers of Doctor Dee, or Cornelius Agrippa. His hand presses the spring of an influence that casts midnight or sunshine over the World of Traffic, and shakes entire blocks of real estate with a speculative earthquake. It is not the Czar or the Sultan, but the Capitalist, that makes war or preserves peace. The destinies of the time are enacted not in Congress or Parliament, but in the Bank of England and in Wall street. It is a mighty power that sits on 'Change, and inspires the great movements of the world; sending its messengers panting through the deep and feeling around the globe with telegraphic nerves. And one may well be more ambitious to wield a portion of this power than to speak in senates, or to sit upon a throne. Here is something that will raise him above the common level; will pay him for long years of sacrifice and contumely; will hide meanness of birth, and scantiness of education, and paint over the stains of damaged character. Here is the most feasible way of distinction in a democracy. The doors of respectability and honor turn on silver hinges. Gravity relaxes, fashion gives way, beauty smiles, and talent defers, before the man of money. He may be an ignoramus, but he possesses the golden alphabet. He may be a boor, but Plutus lends a charm which eclipses the grace of Apollo. He may have accumulated his wealth in a way which would make an intelligent hyena ashamed of himself, but he _has_ accumulated it, and the past is forgotten. I do not mean to say that, as the general rule, wealth is thus associated, but I believe that one great motive for money-getting, is the consciousness of the power and the distinction that accompany its possession; and so, many a man in the thick dust of the mart--though it may not always be clear to himself--is really engaged in a strife for Precedence. Again, consider the illustrations of this strife in the _Style_ of _Living_. It is really a battle of chairs and mirrors, of plate and equipage, and is the spring of the monstrous extravagance that characterizes our city life. For I suppose there is no place on the earth where people have run into such gorgeous nonsense as here--turning home into a Parisian toy-shop, absorbing the price of a good farm in the ornaments of a parlor, and hanging up a judge's salary in a single chandelier. Not that I accept the standard of absolute necessity, or agree with those who cry out--"Have nothing but what is absolutely _useful_!" For, if the universe had been cast after their type, there would have been no embroidery on the wings of the butterfly, and the awful summit of Mont Blanc would have yielded fire-wood. There is an instinct of beauty and grace implanted in our nature, which demands elegance and even luxury, and the bare necessaries of life do _not_ answer every purpose. And, to say nothing of the employment which these accessories of refinement afford for thousands--for I have spoken of this in the previous series--the most sturdy utilitarian is not consistent with his theory. He defers to the social condition around him to such an extent that he sleeps on a bed instead of a bench, and wears broadcloth instead of untanned sheepskin. And, therefore, others might say, and say truly, that a good deal that is actually superfluous is the fruit of certain social proprieties which cannot, with any consistency, be violated. Our style of living may lawfully run from the bare necessaries of existence, through the stages of comfort and convenience, even into luxury, according to our condition and means. But in some of the style of living in this very city, there is neither good taste, social propriety, nor common sense. It is an apoplectic splendor; a melo-dramatic glitter; in one word, a vulgar spirit of social rivalry blossoming in lace, brocade, gilding, and fresco. It is one way of getting a head taller than another upon this democratic level. It is a carpet contest for the mastery in what is called "society." And if one mourns over the exuberant selfishness that lifts its pinnacles out of this dreary sea of hunger and despair, and wonders that so many live wrapped in the idea that they were created merely to be gratified; he can hardly help being amused, on the other hand, at this fashionable strife for precedence, and the methods which it developes. But enough has been said to illustrate the false element in the great struggle for Human Precedence. This vicious principle is most comprehensively stated in the proposition, that there is no substantial ground of supremacy in anything that is merely accidental or external to a man. These things may sometimes stand as symbols of true merit and greatness, but they are not themselves proofs of precedence. A man's wealth may be the fruit of noble energy and honest toil, and he may exert a wide influence by virtue of that intrinsic ability of which his good fortune is the sign. Indeed, the more I study the world the more I acquire a respect for these kings of enterprise--these heroes of practical effort--who, feeling that they have been sent into the world to do something, do not fold their hands and shut their eyes in ideal dreams, or stumble at discrepancies, but lay hold of what lies about them--rough stone, timber, iron, brass,--and become what it is really a noble compliment to say of any man--"the architects of their own fortune." I have great respect for these men who drive the wheels, and kindle the furnaces, and launch the ships, and build the edifices, and keep this sea of every-day action perpetually agitated by the keels of their endeavor. Their claims to precedence, however, consist not in their wealth, but in that which accumulates the wealth. But the man who rests merely upon what he _has_, occupies no substantial ground of supremacy. And if this is the case with those whose claim hangs merely upon what they are worth in the world of money, it is at least equally so with those who set their title to precedence upon their style of dress or living. For how uncertain are all these things! depending upon the fickle currents of fortune; throwing the honors into our hands to-day, and transferring them to our neighbor to-morrow! How tantalizing this conflict, in which victory changes with the fashion, and we feel weak or strong according to the verdict of a clique! And all these rivalries and envies and aspirations, what a confession of personal feebleness they really are! How slightly a true man feels them, who knows that he is not mere silk or furniture, and never frets about his place in the world; but just slides into it by the gravitation of his nature, and swings there as easily as a star! But the mere leader of fashion has no genuine claim to supremacy; at least, no abiding assurance of it. He has embroidered his title upon his waistcoat, and carries his worth in his watch-chain; and if he is allowed any real precedence for this it is almost a moral swindle,--a way of obtaining goods under false pretences. But without running into more minute discussion, I say again--that there is no substantial ground of supremacy in aught that is merely accidental or external; and he who rests upon such claims stands upon a pedestal as uncertain as it is spurious. "If a man strive for masteries, yet is he not crowned, except he strive lawfully." This was the old rule of the Grecian games, which would not permit the prize to be gained by any unfair or incomplete methods. It was applied by the apostle to a specific work--the great work of the Christian ministry. But it is a law which prevails in all human action. And, while it suggests that spurious precedence for which there is so much striving, it also indicates the fact that there _is_ a real difference of degree among men, and that there are proper methods of obtaining supremacy. And, as I look around in the populous city, in order to illustrate the grounds of this lawful precedence, I observe, in the first place, that there are men who occupy the higher places by ordinance of nature so to speak; or, more properly, by the purpose of God. It is a fact in nature that all men are created equal, and it is also a fact in nature that all men are not equal. All men are created equal as to the essential rights and privileges of humanity. They have a claim to live; they have an impartial share in the Divine Love; they have a right to liberty, to freedom of thought and of limb, by a constitution older than any historical document, drawn up in the court of God's decrees and authenticated by His handwriting in the soul. Thus far all men are _created_ equal, and, if it turns out otherwise with them, it ensues from what is _made_ by man, not what is commanded by Heaven. But so far as quantity of nature is concerned--original capacity and spiritual gifts--men are not equal. And if it is asked--"Why are they not equal?" I answer, it is by appointment of the same Sovereign Mind which has ordained that "one star shall differ from another star in glory." But each form of being has its own capacities, and if these are filled the moral harmony is secured. Through all prevails the law of compensation, balancing the vicissitudes of experience. And, among these diversities of human capacity, some must of necessity occupy the highest place--men whose native genius carries them up in a splendid orbit, and endows them with control. And the world at large always acknowledges the rectitude of this appointment. It cherishes no envy toward men of this kind, but renders them spontaneous homage. But, although this genius, this original power, rises to a natural supremacy, it does not involve the most legitimate element of precedence. There is no real ground of merit in the natural talents of a man, any more than there is a ground of merit in personal beauty, or family descent. He has nothing but what has been given him--the five talents instead of his neighbor's one talent--and, so long as he does not use them to their best purpose, there is only an admirable possibility, no merit of achievement. And all genuine merit--that which entitles one to some ground of human precedence--comes from personal achievement in life; substantially, from the stock of actual benefit which one has contributed to the world, and which has become assimilated to his own spiritual nature. The ground of precedence--so far as it is lawful for man to think of anything like precedence at all--is not in outward possessions, not in gifts, but in _uses_. And here is thrown open a broad and noble field, depending not upon genius or station, but upon _will_, and therefore accessible to every man. Here is an arena where one may strive lawfully, emulous to build up his own inner nature, emulous to let such power as he possesses go out in blessings for the world. A field for all of us, my friends, right here in the dense city, amidst the hurrying feet, the clang of machinery, and the roar of wheels. And the condition of the game is, not large capacity but good purpose and loyal endeavor; not to strive greatly but to strive lawfully. And, I observe once more, that the real claim to precedence is not eagerly snatched by us, but _comes_ to us. It is not in _seeming_ but in _being_, and it makes no essential difference whether the world confesses it or not, so long as we actually have it, working in our consciousness of duty and drawing our consolation from inward resources. Here, my friend, is your work--here is the field of opportunity, which, however broad and rich absolutely, is for you great and pregnant with incalculable possibilities. And though men may not see its best results, they are nevertheless real, and develop in your own soul a light and power, a ground and fabric of precedence that cannot be shaken, and will never vanish away. And yet, to a large extent, the world does confess this true supremacy. For, let me ask, who among these crowds of citizens are really honored? Not those who are so eagerly and vainly striving in their narrow, conventional circle, heedful merely of the rules of their own little game. But those who actually fill an honorable place in life. How much acknowledged dignity is there in that man who just accepts his station and makes the most of it, filling it with patience and self-sacrifice and achieving the victory of principle and affection! How much genuine nobleness in the quiet, unconscious discharge of duty! The field for precedence is it not a broad one, and close at hand? And is there no alternative between a frivolous and outside distinction, and some great theatre of action large enough to fill and dazzle the world's eye? Daily, right around us, there are occasions that summon up all the energies of manhood as with a trumpet-peal. See yonder! where the conflagration, bursting through marble walls, casts a terrible splendor down the street and reddens the midnight sky. What an enemy has broken loose among us, devouring the achievements of human skill and the hopes of enterprise! What shall stay it? With a triumphant shout it snaps the fetters of stone; it roars with victory; it bends its flaming crest towards peaceful homes where men and mothers and babes lie in unconscious slumber. The bell beats; and what old bugle-strain, what pibroch, what rattling drum, ever sounded a more perilous call? And on what battle-field that you have read of was there ever displayed a loftier heroism, a more dauntless energy, than that man displays who, with the unconscious courage of duty, plunges into the furnace, mounts the quivering walls, and, making his own body a barrier between his fellow-men and the flame, stands there scorched, bruised, bleeding, and beats the red terror back and beats it down, with that irresistible energy which always springs from the human will bent upon a noble purpose? And so, in other forms, more quiet and more sacred, where the anticipation of public applause does not furnish its motive, men are exercising a heroism, and working achievements, that make dim and pale the trophies that are plucked from fields of war and in lists of glittering renown. And when these things are known the hearts of men render a spontaneous honor, and admit the genuine titles of supremacy. Yet, if this true achievement in life is not known or confessed by the world, its results really exist, and impart their inalienable strength and blessing to the soul, while as the grounds of false supremacy dissolve all gives way. And, my friends, the tendency of things is to bring out more and more these real claims to human precedence, and to throw all spurious titles into the shade. This is the radical purport of true democracy, which I take to be the social synonym of _Christianity_. I have shown what inconsistencies and false distinctions swarm here in our midst, under the profession of republican equality. This, however, is because names are _not_ things. I don't call that "democracy" which is simply the domineering spirit of self-exaltation in a new shape. For there is no _essential_ difference whether we call the social order a monarchy or a commonwealth; whether its leading men are Charles and Louis, or Robespierre and Cromwell. If we must have the old social fallacies, they appear more attractive with the old symbols. In that case, I would rather not have them changed. For, when I look merely at the _sentimental_ side of things, I feel sorry when the so-called "Royal Martyr," with a dignity which contrasts with his past conduct, stretches his head upon the block; or when the pitiless insults of a Parisian mob are hurled upon the head of the beautiful Marie Antoinette. A poetic regret and enthusiasm is awakened by the associations that cluster about the Golden Lion and the Bourbon Lilies. And, when I turn to those grim Ironsides, or those frantic Jacobins, the work they are doing looks savage enough. But, with a more discriminating vision, I perceive that that rude popular storm, which desolates palaces and shatters crowns, embosoms a rectifying process which, tumbling all false distinctions from their pedestals, shall by-and-by heave up the platform of social justice, and reveal the true dignity of man. The essential work of democracy is not the destruction of forms; is not the giant arm of revolution, striking the hours of human progress by the crash of falling thrones. But its great work is _construction_--is in changing the very _spirit_ of institutions--and it asserts its legitimacy and bases its claims upon the Christian doctrine of the human soul. Therefore, I regard these spurious claims to precedence--these endeavors after social distinction by virtue of riches, and equipage, and wardrobes--as only evidences of a transition-state. Men, letting go the feudal forms, and still assuming that there is some ground of human precedence, as there really is, have adopted these false expressions of it. They will in turn pass away, and give place to more genuine methods. But let it be remembered, that these false forms of precedence are not only inconsistent with our social professions and institutions, but they are futile because they are contrary to the Divine Law. Our endeavors in life have a twofold operation, and we must count not only their effect upon others but their reaction upon the fabric of our own inner being. For, whatever honor _men_ may attribute to us, we know that there is no real, substantial ground of supremacy except in the excellence and power of our own spiritual nature. And this is acquired not in ostentatious and selfish striving, but when self is least thought of; in the calm work of duty, and when all conception of human merit fades into the Glory of God. And this is the great end to be desired--this strength and exaltation of the soul. This imparts the profoundest significance to that great life-struggle which goes on in these crowded streets. The city! what is it but a vast amphitheatre, filled with racers, with charioteers, with eager competitors; surrounded by an unseen and awful array of witnesses? And here, daily, the lists are opened, and men contend for success, for station, for power. But these are meretricious and perishable awards. The real prize is a spiritual gain, a crown that "fadeth not away." And, if we comprehend the great purpose of existence at all--if we look with any eagerness to its intrinsic issues and its final result; we shall heed that decree of Divine Wisdom and Justice that comes down to us through all the vicissitude of life--through all the hurry and turmoil and contention. "If a man strive for masteries, yet is he not crowned, except he strive lawfully." THE SYMBOLS OF THE REPUBLIC. DISCOURSE IV. THE SYMBOLS OF THE REPUBLIC. Thou art a great people, and hast great power.--JOSHUA, xvii. 17. These words, originally addressed by the Hebrew Leader to the children of Joseph--the tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh--have been applicable to many nations which, since that time, have risen, and flourished, and fallen. But when we consider the circumstances of its origin, its marvellous growth in all the attributes of civilization, and especially the immense _possibilities_ which it involves; without even being chargeable with a natural vanity, we may say, that to no country on the face of the earth have they ever been more fitted than to this. For, my friends, we know that it _is_ a dictate of our nature to magnify that which is our own. However insignificant it really is, man spreads an ideal glory over the land of his birth. Perhaps its historical importance compensates for its geographical narrowness, or its material poverty is hidden by its intellectual wealth. From its stock of mighty men--its heroes, and bards, and sages--who have brightened the roll of fame; or from its memorable battle-fields, on rude heath and in mountain defile; or from its achievements which have swelled the tides of human enterprise, and made the world its debtor; he draws the inspiration, he carries away the conviction of greatness--so that wherever its emblems come before his eyes, they touch the deep springs of reverence and pride. Nor let us condemn this feeling as merely a selfish and exaggerating one. This spirit of nationality exists for wise purposes, embosoms the richest elements of loyalty and faith, and is one of those profound _sentiments_ of our nature that cannot be driven out by any process of logic. But, if a nation really inherits the description in the text, it must possess something more than an illustrious history and an ideal glory. We must determine its greatness by its symbols; yet these must be not merely signs of things, but instruments of achievement; not merely the illustrations of dead works or patriotic enthusiasm, but the agents of actual power and of living performance. Now, in looking over the world at the present time, there are other nations to which the words of Joshua might be applied as well as to our own, and with as little assumption of national vanity. Other people are great and have great power, by virtue of political importance, vast possessions, and strong institutions. To say nothing of the rest, consider that huge domain which at this hour confronts the troubled principalities of Europe. It stretches itself out over three continents. The waves of three oceans chafe against its shaggy sides. The energies of innumerable tribes are throbbing in its breast. It clasps regions yet raw in history as well as those that are grey with tradition, and incloses in one empire the bones of the Siberian mammoth and the valleys of Circassian flowers. And it is great not only by geographical extent, but by political purpose--great by the idea which is involved with its destiny--an idea austere as the climate, tremendous as the forces, indomitable as the will of the gigantic north. It would set the inheritance of the Byzantine Emperors in the diadem of Peter the Great. It would make the Sea of Marmara and the ridges of the Caucasus, paths to illimitable empire and uncompromising despotism. It moves down the map of the world, as a glacier moves down the Alps, patient and relentless, startling the jealous rivals that watch its course, and granting contemptuous peace to the allies that shiver in its shadow. In considering, therefore, the symbols which prove that we also are a great people, having great power, we should select those which indicate the possession of a _peculiar_ power. This peculiarity is not in our geographical extent or material greatness. But it _is_, I think, in our institutions, in the tendency of our national ideas, and in the legitimate result of these. It is in conceptions and elements the direct opposite of those that work in the destiny of the mighty empire just referred to--and for this reason I _have_ referred to it. In taking up a subject, then, which is especially connected with the conditions of humanity in the city, because in the city the conception of a people--of a public--is especially illustrated, let us inquire--What _are_ the symbols of our republic; the signs and agents of our greatness as a nation? And, for the sake of avoiding too many specifications, I propose to consider these under two or three general classes. In the first place, then, I would select as a symbol of the Republic, _Whatever represents the privilege of Free Thought_. As to whatever gives full play to the intellect, whatever diffuses the intelligence, whatever wakes up and assists the entire spiritual nature of individuals and communities, I think there is really more opportunity here than anywhere else on the face of the earth. And, as a sign and instrument of this, I would point to some _District School-house_; rough, weather-worn, standing in some bleak corner of New York or New Hampshire; through whose closed windows the passer-by catches the confused hum of recitation, or at whose door he sees children of all conditions mingling in motley play. Of all conditions, so far as external peculiarities go; for the laws of nature and the ordinances of Providence cannot be dispensed with even here; but of one condition as the recognized possessors of immortal _mind_. Those who have helped mould the Republic have clearly seen that, although intelligence is not the foundation of national greatness--for there is something deeper than that--still it is the discerning and directing power upon which depends the right use even of moral elements. They have scouted the notion that there is any ultimate evil in diffused knowledge; any such thing as "a dangerous truth;" and have affirmed that the best way to winnow the false from the true, is to equip and set a-going the intellectual machine by which God has ordained that the work shall be done. It has been felt, that, if the State can properly extend its influence anywhere beyond the restrictive limits of evil, or the punishment of overt wrong; if anywhere it may exercise a positive ministration for good; it is here, where it does not interfere on the one hand with those outward pursuits which should be left to individual choice and aptitude, nor on the other, with those inward sanctities which pertain to conscience and to God; it is here, in that region of our personality from which we can best discern our duty and fill our place. For the intellect is the most neutral of all our qualities. Man is swayed by the animal propensities of his nature; he is swayed by the moral and religious elements of his nature; but the intellect, by itself, is not a motive power. It is a _light_; and no one will object to its being kindled except those who, by that objection, virtually confess that they fear the light. And this work of kindling is just what the state purposes to do for a child; leaving his religious convictions to such helps as conscience has chosen, and his position in life to the decision of circumstances. And there is no way in which it can show so much impartiality, and exercise practically the most essential conception of freedom. For thus, as I have already said, it recognizes a common inheritance--something which all have--the possession of _mind_--something which is of more importance than any external condition, for it influences external condition; (whoever saw an educated community of which anything like a large fraction were paupers and criminals?) something on which rests the claim of human freedom; for the charter of man's liberty is in his soul, not his estate. It says to the poorest child--"You are rich in this one endowment, before which all external possessions grow dim. No piled-up wealth, no social station, no throne, reaches as high as that spiritual plane upon which every human being stands by virtue of his humanity; and from that plane, mingling now in the Common School with the lowliest and the lordliest, we give you the opportunity to ascend as high as you may. We put into your hands the key of knowledge; leaving your religious convictions, with which we dare not interfere, to your chosen guides. So far as the intellectual path may lead, it is open to you.--Go free!" And when we consider the great principles which are thus practically confessed; when we consider the vast consequences which grow out of this; I think that little District School-house dilates, grows splendid, makes our hearts beat with admiration and gratitude, makes us resolve that at all events, _that_ must stand; for, indeed, it is one of the noblest symbols of the Republic--a sign and an instrument of a great people, having great power. Or, if you would behold another of these symbols, go through this city, and pause wherever you hear the rumbling of the _Printing-Press_. As I have dwelt upon the characteristics of this great power in another place, I only allude to it here as a vehicle of that _expression_ which is so essential to all genuine freedom of thought. Mere education is no evidence of this freedom. It may be made, it has been made in one of the most intelligent but despotic countries in Europe, an instrument for drilling the human mind into an absolute routine of state policy. Mere liberty of speculation is nothing, though it has the boundless firmament of abstraction for its own, so long as it is not allowed to strike the solid ground of fact or touch one organized abuse. Let us be thankful for a free-press--the electric tongue of thought, which at every stroke is felt throughout a continent, which no dictator dares to chain, and over whose issues no censor sits in judgment--or only that great censor, public opinion. Everybody is aware of its evil as well as its good--the errors, the crudities, the abominations it sends out. But we must remember that it is only the representative, the voice, of elements that actually exist in human minds and bosoms; and, surely, it is better that they should come out into the free air, and be sprinkled by the chloride of truth, than to work darkly and infectiously out of sight. It is the hidden, not the open evil that is dangerous. Or, still again, you might have seen a true symbol of the Republic in the spectacle which has been presented this very day--the spectacle of a _Free Worship_. The great stream of religious impulse has poured through these streets, and separated into its rills of distinctive opinion, without trepidation and without challenge. Every man has had the opportunity to commune with his God, and approach the Cross of his Redeemer, with no established barriers between. Neither the cathedral nor the chapel rest upon the patronage of the state, but in the deep foundations of individual conviction. To be sure, here and there, there is a little assumption; but it is dramatic rather than substantial, and does not amount to much. Here and there breaks out an unjust prejudice or a spiteful calumny, but it shames the source more than the object, and soon dies away in the atmosphere of tolerance and investigation. It looks doubtful sometimes, but I verily believe that the real spirit, as well as the mere form of Religious equality, is beginning to prevail. Every day, it is more and more practically acknowledged that Christianity is profounder than any name, and exists under strange and despised names; that there really is decent observance in every church, and holy living in every communion; and a man finds that his neighbor has the same essence of righteousness as himself, though he has not half so many links in his creed. And something more than tolerance grows out of this practical liberty. It is not easy to measure the moral sincerity, the moral principle, which results from it; which is far more precious than mere intelligence; which is the perennial spring and assurance of national welfare. But I proceed to observe, in the second place, that we may select as a symbol of the Republic--a sign and an instrument of a great people, having great power--whatever illustrates the principle of _Political Equality_. I am speaking, at present, not of our deficiencies, but of our possessions; not of the instances in which this doctrine of equality is practically contradicted, but of those in which it is practically acknowledged. The sovereignty of every man is a fundamental principle in our institutions; it is essential to the conception of a Republic; and so far as it _is_ legitimately a Republic, we shall find this principle in operation. And, looking around for some extant symbol of this, let me select that which is the object of so much strife and agitation--the _Presidential Chair_. I do not, by any means, consider this the most comfortable seat in the nation, or that the most deserving man is sure to get there; but, as an emblem, I believe it illustrates the noblest privileges, and the proudest supremacy, on the face of the globe. And I refer to it as a _possibility_ for the poorest and humblest child in the land. No hereditary gallery leads to it--only the broad road of the people. And, as the highest seat in the nation, it illustrates all the honors of the nation. They are possible to anybody. And I trust the time has not yet arrived when this can be said only by way of satire; can be true only because the waves of political corruption carry the meanest and unworthiest into office; but as a grand fact, a fact with which are involved the springs of our national greatness and power, it may be said that here there are no barriers of caste, no terms of descent, no depths so low that enterprise cannot rise out of them, no heights so exalted that genius cannot attain them; for, on a platform as level to the peasant's threshold as to the nabob's door, stand the judge's bench, the senator's seat, and the President's chair. As another symbol of this political equality, I would name the _Ballot-Box_. I am aware that this is not everywhere a consistent symbol; but to a large degree it is so. I know what miserable associations cluster around this instrument of popular power. I know that the arena in which it stands is trodden into mire by the feet of reckless ambition and selfish greed. The wire-pulling and the bribing, the pitiful truckling and the grotesque compromises, the exaggeration and the detraction, the melo-dramatic issues and the sham patriotism, the party watch-words and the party nick-names, the schemes of the few paraded as the will of the many, the elevation of men whose only worth is in the votes they command--vile men, whose hands you would not grasp in friendship, whose presence you would not tolerate by your fireside--incompetent men, whose fitness is not in their capacity as functionaries, or legislators, but as organ pipes; the snatching at the slices and offal of office, the intemperance and the violence, the finesse and the falsehood, the gin and the glory; these are indeed but too closely identified with that political agitation which circles around the Ballot-Box. But, after all, they are not essential to it. They are only the masks of a genuine grandeur and importance. For it _is_ a grand thing--something which involves profound doctrines of Right--something which has cost ages of effort and sacrifice--it _is_ a grand thing that here, at last, each voter has just the weight of one man; no more, no less; and the weakest, by virtue of his recognized manhood, is as strong as the mightiest. And consider, for a moment, what it is to cast a vote. It is the token of inestimable privileges, and involves the responsibilities of an hereditary trust. It has passed into your hands as a right, reaped from fields of suffering and blood. The grandeur of History is represented in your act. Men have wrought with pen and tongue, and pined in dungeons, and died on scaffolds, that you might obtain this symbol of freedom, and enjoy this consciousness of a sacred individuality. To the ballot have been transmitted, as it were, the dignity of the sceptre and the potency of the sword. And that which is so potent as a right, is also pregnant as a duty; a duty for the present and for the future. If you will, that folded leaf becomes a tongue of justice, a voice of order, a force of imperial law; securing rights, abolishing abuses, erecting new institutions of truth and love. And, _however_ you will, it is the expression of a solemn responsibility, the exercise of an immeasurable power for good or for evil, now and hereafter. It is the medium through which you act upon your country--the organic nerve which incorporates you with its life and welfare. There is no agent with which the possibilities of the Republic are more intimately involved, none upon which we can fall back with more confidence, than the Ballot-Box. But there is a symbol which represents the power and greatness of a Republic more significantly than all the rest, and is comprehensive of all the rest. It is the fruit of unfettered thought and political equality, of intelligence and virtue, of private sovereignty and public duty--it is a free, true, harmonious _Man_. As the crown or the sceptre is the symbol of a Monarchy; as heraldic honors are the symbols of an Oligarchy; so, I repeat, the most expressive symbol of a Republic is a man--a man free in limb and soul, a man intelligent and self-governed, a man whose spiritual vision is clear, and in whose breast the voice of conscience is peremptory, with whom the conception of duties is deeper even than the conception of rights; in short, a man who embodies all the elements, and represents to the world the best results of Liberty. Laws are nothing, institutions are nothing, national power and greatness are nothing, save as they assist the Moral purpose of God in the development of humanity. To this test we must bring the symbols of the Republic, and judge whether they are fitting and consistent. No matter what else they accomplish, no matter what else they signify, if they do not serve this end they are either incomplete instruments, or vain forms. For, Man is of more worth than Institutions; Religion is greater than politics; and the designs of Providence are wider than the cycles of National destiny. I turn, then, to the signs of our own national greatness; I turn to these symbols of spiritual freedom and political equality; and I ask--how completely do they develop this most significant symbol of all--how completely do they serve the purposes of God in History--by securing the welfare, the culture, the moral elevation of humanity? And the reply is--that, by our institutions and our endeavors, these ends have been served in various ways. There is here, to-day, a more enlightened, free, self-governed humanity--and we say it without arrogance--than anywhere else on the globe. Our benefits are of the kind that are not realized, because they are so great and familiar--like the light and the air; but take them away, or transfer us to some other atmosphere, and how we should miss them, and pine and dwindle! Let no man, in his zeal for bold rebuke or needed reform, overlook what has been done, and what is enjoyed here, as to the noblest results of national greatness and power. But every sincere man must say likewise that, with us, the _possibilities_ are far greater than the _performance_; that these symbols are the splendid tokens of what _may be_, rather than what _is_. And, that I may bring this discourse to a practical conclusion, let me say that two things, at least, are necessary to convert these possibilities into the noblest achievement. In the first place, it is essential that every citizen of the republic should recognize his own manhood; the sacredness of his own personality; and should recognize this especially in relation to his duties, which are inextricably involved with his rights. For here it is true in a special sense, that the mass is but an aggregate of personalities--that public sin is but the projection of your sin and mine. A man will often say that he is responsible to his country, and responsible to his constituents; but upon no claim, by no sophistry, should he suffer himself to forget that he is also responsible to his God. He does forget this, when he acts for political interests, and as one of a party, as he never would act in his private affairs. And does he suppose that there is a corporate vice, or virtue, differing from his private vice or virtue, as a gentleman's purse differs from the public fund? There is no such distinction in moral qualities. It is your own coin that helps swell the amount; it bears your stamp, and you are responsible for the product. If the party lies, then _you_ are guilty of falsehood. If the party--as is very likely--does a mean thing, then _you_ do it. It is surely so, so far as you are one of the party, and go with it in its action. God does not take account of parties; party names are not known in that court of Divine Judgment; but your name and mine are on the books there. There is no such thing--and this is true, perhaps, in more senses than one--there is no such thing as a party conscience. It is individual conscience that is implicated. Party! Party! Ah! my friends, here is the influence which, it is to be feared, balks and falsifies many of these glorious symbols. Men rally round musty epithets. They take up issues which have no more relation to the deep, vital, throbbing interest of the time, than they have to the fashions of our grandfathers. They parade high-sounding principles to cover selfish ends; interpret the Constitution by a doctrine of loaves and fishes; while individual independence and private conviction are whirled away in the political maelstrom, and the party-badge is reverenced and hugged as the African reverences and hugs his fetish. And surely it is a case for congratulation, when some great, exciting question breaks out and jars these conventional idols, and so sweeps and shatters these party organizations and turns them topsy-turvy, that a man is shaken out of his harness, does not know exactly what party he _does_ belong to, and begins to feel that he has a soul of his own. I am not denying the use and the necessity of parties as instruments, but protest against them as ends, especially when principle is smothered under their platforms, and they absorb the moral personality of a man. It may not seem so strange that the political field should so often be the field of a lax and depressed morality, when we consider that here is the great theatre where human ambition struggles for its aims; here are enlisted the strongest passions of the soul; here throng some of its fiercest temptations; here the stakes played for are the kingdoms of this world, and the glory of them. And this, I suppose, is the reason why the most authentic type of human depravity is a thoroughly unprincipled politician. Such an instance, at least, may strike us more forcibly, because we see the perversion of great faculties, and capabilities are contrasted with performance; while, on the other hand he may be confirmed in his moral bankruptcy by the fact that, in playing upon the passions of men he sees the worst side of humanity. But, surely, there have been those who passed this ordeal, and came out with brighter lustre; who have kept the eye of conscience elevated above the ecliptic of political routine; who have made politics identical with lofty duties and great principles; whose patriotism was not a clamorous catch-word, but a breathing inspiration, a silent heart-fire. In private life they have felt the great privilege of their citizenship; the magnitude of the obligation which bound them to virtue and to consistency; while, in public life, they have kept their trust firm as steel, bright as gold; have felt, with due balance on either side, the beatings of the popular heart and the dictates of the everlasting Right; and in themselves have represented the union of liberty and law, the real greatness of a nation. Without such men, the nation has no greatness; for its significance and its power are in the moral worth of its citizens. The second condition necessary to the fulfilment of the great results indicated by these symbols, is consistent action upon the ideas that constitute the basis of our own institutions. If many of the privileges and peculiarities which I have specified in this discourse are possessed by other nations, in one respect we differ from them all. These privileges and peculiarities are _legitimately_ ours. They have not been grafted on hereditary antagonisms. They have not grown up in _spite_ of our institutions, but as the _fruit_ of our institutions. These ideas, entwined with the very roots of our Republic, shooting through every fibre, running into every limb, bind us to a recognition of human brotherhood; to sympathy with Liberty wherever it struggles; and to stedfast opposition to whatever crushes the rights, hinders the development, or denies the humanity of man. If these symbols of the Republic mean anything, they mean just this; and whatever is inconsistent with this, is inconsistent with the terms of our national birthright. Depend upon it, not the assertion of Liberty, but whatever is opposed to Liberty, is the innovating and agitating element in this country. It interrupts the legitimate current of our destiny. It shocks the popular heart with inconsistency. It becomes mixed with the ashes of the old heroes, and the land keeps heaving with the fermentation. One assumption is too impudent, too nakedly in contradiction with the fundamental ideas of our Republic ever to be admitted--the assumption that the man who speaks for freedom, who sympathizes with the broadest doctrine of human rights, and sets around these the eternal barriers of justice, is an innovator and an agitator. I ask--what made our Revolution legitimate? What were the central ideas that throbbed in the breasts of its heroes and martyrs? Take down the old muskets bent in the hot encounter, and printed with many a death-gripe; take down the old uniforms, clipped by Hessian sabres and torn by British bullets; take down the dusty muster-rolls, scrawled with those venerable names--names that now "are graven on the stone," names that are buried in the sod, names that have gone up to immortality--and ask, for what was this great struggle? Was it not for freedom, based upon the conception of the right and supremacy of freedom? And is _this_ the legitimate conclusion of that sublime postulate--this other Fact which, never retreating, always advancing, follows the steps of Freedom over the continent like a shadow, looms up like a phantom against the Rocky Mountains, and darkens the fairest waters? On the contrary, is not Freedom that old truth, that conceded premise that does _not_ agitate? Liberty, Human Rights, Universal Brotherhood, was it not for these ideas ye fought--was it not these ye planted in the soil, and laid with the corner-stone of our institutions? My friends, I know, and you know, could those men give palpable sign and representation, the answer that would come, as in one quick flash from bayonet to bayonet, in one long roll of drums, from Lexington to Yorktown. These peculiar privileges, then, to which I have referred, differ from those of other nations inasmuch as they are not grafted expedients, but legitimate fruits. Unless we change the premises of our Republic, and shift the foils in our historical argument, these are necessary conclusions. They are necessary conclusions, if our symbols represent realities. Russia is consistent with its national idea. It pours forth its legions and moves to its work with a terrible consistency. And if we--also a great people, having great power--are equally consistent, we shall fall back upon no selfish conservatism, but aid whatever tends to fulfil the Providential purpose of our existence, and whatever helps and advances man. One thing is certain. So long as any nation truly lives, it unfolds its specific idea and lives according to its original type. When it fails to do this, the sentence of decay is already written upon it. If it fails to illustrate God's purpose in its obedience, it illustrates His control in retribution. For there is nothing supreme, nothing finally triumphant, nothing of the last importance, but His Law. It penetrates, and oversweeps, and survives all charters and institutions and nationalities, like the infinite space that encompasses Alps and Andes, and planets and systems. It is this that successive generations illustrate. It is this that all history vindicates. If a nation runs parallel to this Divine Law, it is well; if false to its purpose and its control, down it goes. The prophet Isaiah, in one of the most terrific and sublime passages of the Bible, represents the king of Babylon, while passing into the under-world, saluted by departed rulers, by dead kings, rising from their shadowy thrones, and exclaiming, "Art thou become weak as we? Art thou become like unto us?" Thus has many a nation gone down to its doom. Shall it be so with this Republic, because false to its ideal? Shall it descend to the shades of perished pomp and greatness, and see Nineveh with dusty, hieroglyphic robes rising up to meet it; and Persia, with the empty wine-cup of its luxury; and Rome, with the shadow of universal empire on its discrowned head; and hear them say--"Art thou become weak as we? Art thou become like unto us?" My friends, I look at the eager enterprise, the young, hopeful vigor, the tides of possibility that flow through this great city; I look at the symbols of this Republic; and I cannot believe that such is to be the result. I look back upon our history, and cannot argue such a future from such a past. A great light lay upon the wake of those frail ships that bore our fathers hither; the wake of past ages, the following of good men's prayers and brave men's deeds, the mingling currents of martyr-blood and prophet-fire. And methinks, as they struck the shore, and met the savage wilderness, a Voice saluted them; a voice not of profane ambition and of selfish hope, but of Divine promise, intending Divine results--proclaiming, "Thou art a great people, and hast great power." And He will fulfil this prophecy, Who leads the course of history over the broad deep and through mysterious ways, and Who unfolds His own glory in the destinies of men. THE SPRINGS OF SOCIAL LIFE. DISCOURSE V. THE SPRINGS OF SOCIAL LIFE. Let them learn first to show piety at home.--I. TIMOTHY, v. 4. The text--which I purpose to employ not as a specific precept, but as the illustration of a general principle--indicates those Springs of Social Life which constitute the subject of the present discourse. The crowd in a city affords comparatively little interest, when we contemplate it merely as a crowd. But, when we resolve it into its individual particles, and consider each of these as endued with the attributes and involved with the conditions of humanity, our deepest sympathies are touched. Every drop of that great stream is a conscious personality. In some shape, the universe is reflected in it. In some way, it takes hold of the reality of life: and the living organism of which it is composed both acts and suffers, receives from the world around it and contributes to it. That entire mass of people involves nothing more than the interest of humanity, and the same interest pertains to the least unit of that mass. And, doubtless, you have sometimes busied yourself with the speculation--"Where do all these people come from? And whither do they retire at night?" Now, this is really a very suggestive question, and to follow it out to a practical answer would yield results of the profoundest importance. For out of hidden channels, here and there, _do_ spring all these struggling activities, these human diversities, these various influences good and evil, that make up the crowd and spectacle of city life. And night after night, with the rarest exceptions, into some retreat they all disappear. Some spot--whether it seem the veriest mockery to style it so, or whether it be a synonym for the sweetest sanctities--some spot each of this living multitude calls by the name of "Home." For some that name is associated with a more than oriental magnificence. Man and nature wait upon them there in every conceivable form of service. There is no method of convenience or luxury which ingenuity can devise; no bounty that earth can yield from her many-zoned bosom; no shape which art can summon from the regions of the beautiful, that is not possible there. Lifting its palatial walls, and kindling with brilliant lights, it stands there as the completest symbol of material refinement and civilization. It is arctic winter without. The snow chokes up the dreary street, and the whistling wind cuts the beggar's rags. But it is Italy, it is Ceylon, it is tropic gorgeousness within. And these are the abodes of the children of fortune, whose wishes require no talisman but expression, who, all their lives long, have been used to such indulgence, or who accept it now as the fruit of their own effort. This is the hospitality which some men find in life, and out of which they constitute a home. But none the less enviable, and perhaps much more so, are those retreats where comfort waits on moderate means, while contentment imparts to these an unpurchasable efficacy; where, blended with those infirmities and liabilities which are common to palace and cottage, the domestic affections flourish, and the dearest treasures of life are kept. Thousands of homes like this there are, all around us. It describes the largest class of homes, we may believe. And who can estimate their influence over these busy tides of action, all day long? That world of traffic, that world of toil, that looks so hard and gross and sordid,--is it not transformed somewhat, does it not grow beautiful even, when you think how many of its energies have their spring by the infant's cradle and the mother's chair? And what lights, what shadows, unseen by you, fall upon the speculative eyes, fall upon the hearts, of thousands in that homeward-streaming crowd! Light of welcoming hearth-fires, shadows of children's play upon the walls; light of affections in which there are no decay and no deceit; shadows of sacred retirement where God alone is; light of joys which this world's storms cannot utterly quench; shadows of sorrow around sick-beds, and in vacant places, that still make home the dearer as the arena of earth's purest discipline and of its most triumphant faith! And why delineate the features of that other class of homes, whose most significant word is "_Privation_?" Where cheerlessness, and hunger, and desponding toil, or hopeless apathy, brood continually. Let your own sympathies, let your own imaginations that cannot exaggerate the reality, call up the vision of such. Think how many such abodes there are this very night, which winter besieges with all his terrors, and into which he sends his invading frost! Think what Home is to hundreds, and, therefore, how life looks to them, seen through this atmosphere of disease and want, with starvation by the hearth, and death at the door, and misery everywhere! Think, when the cold pierces even through all your wrappages of comfort, and scarcity almost pinches, what forms of humanity, with lungs, and nerves, and hearts, and every capacity for suffering, are scraping the moss of subsistence from the barest rocks of life, and struggling every day through an avalanche! Think what this Sabbath has been in the dwellings of the poor, you who have had time to listen to the Gospel, and have heard it comfortably--so comfortably, perhaps, that you have fallen asleep under it--think what this Sabbath has been in the dwellings of the poor! And yet, when I consider what, doubtless, the Sabbath has been in some of those places, I am thankful that the highest ideal, the richest sanctities of Home, are not dependent upon outward conditions; for even there, unfaltering duty and true love have made the bare walls beautiful, and prayer has set the desolate chamber on the steps of the Divine throne; and before the eye of faith the cold arch of the winter night, that looks in through hole and cranny, has burst into a revelation of heaven, and a path for those ministering angels that come to help the sufferer and to comfort God's poor. With more unqualified sadness, therefore, our thoughts must rest upon still another group of dwellings, where deprivation and ignorance are mingled with vice and crime--where want and guilt strip away the masks of civilization, and bring out the essential savage in man's nature. These also we must call "_homes_!" These breathing-holes of abomination, these moral tombs, where huddle the demons of violence, and cunning, and debauchery, and from which they issue. That vast Hades of social evil opening downward from our streets, where the best ideals have no type, and the purest sentiments scarce a name; where God is but a dark cloud of muttering thunder in the soul; where all that is fair in womanhood is dishevelled and transformed; and where childhood is baptized in infamy, trained to sin, canopied with curses, and rocked to sleep by the convulsive hell of passions all around it. The Homes of the Metropolis! Thus diversified are they in their general types, and more numerous in their individual conditions than can be specified. And, surely, it is no vain speculation that inquires--"What are they? Into what retreats do the elements of this busy crowd dissolve, night after night?" Whatever they may be, a common interest envelopes them and links them all together--the interest of humanity. They have vanished from the streets. One great shadow covers them, and hides their distinctions. For a time they are all equal. They have fallen asleep--poor, tired humanity at the best!--they have fallen asleep on the bosom of a common Providence, that bears them all up, as it bears the planet on which they now repose, through the orbit of its great purpose and the immensities of its love. But in the morning all these diversities will break forth again, each pouring its influence into the general stream. And who does not perceive how much the character of that influence must depend upon the condition of those homes? Who does not see that not only the interest of the common humanity in its most intimate experiences attaches to them, but the interest of community? Not only are they the reservoirs of individual power and peculiarity, but they are the Springs of Social Life. And this the apostle indicated, when he directed that certain, who bore intimate relations to the early church, should "first learn to show piety at home." Keeping this conclusion in mind, let me ask you to consider, for a little while, what Home _must_ be. In the first place--it is the _earliest and the most influential school_. Nowhere else is the character so moulded; nowhere else is so much infused into our entire being. For, whatever it may be, it is the nursery of childhood; and "the child is father to the man." Here dawns upon the human mind the conception of life. Here, when the nature is uninscribed and plastic, it takes its first impressions. I suppose it to be true, that more is learnt, more that is elementary and a key to all the rest, in the first few years of childhood than in all after time. I do not deny, of course, that much is corrected and overcome under another class of influences. But the deepest impressions, the seeds of the most stubborn habits, are planted at home. Hence the peculiar anxiety of good men to rescue _children_ from the influences of a bad home. And, even then, with what obstacles do they have to contend! How radical are the prejudices already formed in that young mind! How obstinate the customs, how opaque the ignorance, how rank the growth of error! Nay, into what complete fruition have all these grown, simply in the neglect of home-culture, to say nothing of influences positively evil! Really, the color and current of a man's destiny are indicated here, unless a shock of wonderful transformation comes over him. I do not mean to say that anybody is wholly the creature of circumstances; but he is the _subject_ of circumstances. If they do not entirely make _him_, they furnish the occasion out of which he makes something; and, viewed either from the platform of the inward or the outward, they furnish an important key to his life. And, although the path of reformation is more difficult than the descent into evil, and demands an effort which too few are inclined to put forth; though by the conditions of our nature the good is more easily swept away than the bad; still, it is encouraging to estimate the permanence and the power of those _good_ influences which are received at home. Everybody knows, when he is pitched into this whirlpool of evil that rolls around him in the world, how those old home-restraints lie upon him like a magic chain, hard to be forced away--perhaps never utterly forced away. And, seeking for those who should stand up in this boisterous sweep of sin, you would look and I would look to those who had received the best impressions under the domestic roof. If I were alone, poor, compelled to ask charity somewhere in this selfish world, I would go, not to the man who has learnt most of what he calls his "wisdom" from the experience of mature life, but to him in whose heart there evidently remains something of childhood's tenderness, kept warm by the remembered pressures of his mother's breast. If I were seeking to restore some wild prodigal, brazen-fronted by his own wicked will and by the scorn with which men have battered him--if I were looking for some gleam of promise in his turbulent nature, and sounding its depths to find some spring of repentance--I should never despair if I could discover one gentle pulse that beat with the memories of a good and happy home. Why, who needs to be told of the potency of this our earliest school, to say nothing of other influences, if only a faithful _mother_ presides there? O! mother, mother, name for the earliest relationship, symbol of the divine tenderness; kindling a love that we never blush to confess, and a veneration that we cannot help rendering; how does your mystic influence, imparted from the soft pressure and the undying smile, weave itself through all the brightness through all the darkness of our after life. The mould of character set on the front of the world's great men, and gladly confessed by them, bears your stamp. Your inspiration burns along the poet's line. It is your true courage, more than man's rude daring, that makes the force of heroes. The statesman, when treason to humanity wears the garb of power, and duty calls him like a trumpet, hears your voice. The philanthropist, when he feels that the most efficient service is to be patient and to wait, imbibes the strength of your fortitude. The sailor, "on the high and giddy mast," mingles your name close to God's. And thousands in life's great claims, in life's great perils, trace back the influences of the hour to some early time, some calm moment, when,--little, timid children,--they knelt by your side, and from tones of reverence and looks of love and simple words of prayer, they first learnt piety at home. But I observe again, that Home is the sphere where are most clearly displayed _the real elements of character_. The world furnishes occasions of trial, but it also furnishes prudential considerations. Without any absolute hypocrisy, one measures his speech and restrains his action in the street and the market. And it is easy to conceive how small men may perform great deeds, and mean men seem philanthropic, and cowards flourish as heroes, with the tremendous motive of publicity to urge them. But at home all masks are thrown aside, and the true proportions of the man appear. Here he can find his actual moral standard, and measure himself accordingly. If he is irritable, here breaks forth his repressed fretfulness. If he is selfish, here are the sordid tokens. If he passes in any way for more than he is worth, here you may detect the counterfeit in the ring of his natural voice and the superscription of his undisguised life. No, the world is not the place to prove the moral stature and quality of a man. There are too many props and stimulants. Nor, on the other hand, can he himself determine his actual character merely by looking into his own solitary heart. Therein he may discover _possibilities_, but it needs actuality to make up the estimate of a complete life. He must _do_ something as well as be something; he must do something in order that he may be something. For, what he thinks is in his heart may be exaggerated by self-flattery, or darkened by morbid self-distrust. It needs some occasion to prove what is really there. And Home is precisely that sphere which is sufficiently removed from the factitious motives of publicity on the one extreme, and the unexercised possibilities of the human heart on the other, to afford a genuine test. What a man really is, therefore, will appear in the truest light under his own roof and by his own fireside. I can believe that he is a Christian, when I know that he faithfully takes up the daily duties, and bears the crosses, that cluster within his own doors. I shall think that the world rightly calls him a philanthropist, when, notwithstanding common faults and infirmities, he receives the spontaneous award of the good husband and father, and the kindness of his nature is reflected in the very air and light of his dwelling. And,--talk of noble deeds!--where will you find occasions for, where will you behold manifestations of, a more beautiful self-sacrifice, a more generous heroism, than in the labors and in the endurance of thousands of men and women, shut out from the world's observation in silent nooks and corners of this very city, amidst the relationships and cares and struggles of home? But whether it be in forms of good or evil, we know that the real elements of character, the genuine moral qualities of people, must be expressed there. And, I remark once more, that at Home we must find _the most essential happiness or misery of life_. The same conditions apply here as those which relate to character. The world is a theatre of _seeming_, and we can hardly tell by what we notice there who is, or who is not, happy. We know that gaiety is often the reckless ripple over depths of despair; and that men will bear up with a smile while untold agony is gnawing at their heart-strings, and will die laughing, in an agony of defiance, under the sword-strokes of fortune. On the other hand we may count some as unfortunate, in whose bosoms, all the while, there are flowing inexhaustible springs of peace, and who derive real joy from what we suppose to be a hard and pitiable lot. But amidst the undisguised realities of home we can form the most correct estimate of a man's condition. In the first place because, as has been remarked, he is there most truly himself. He gains opportunity for reflection, and gives vent to the secret burden of his heart. There he empties the load of his envies, his rivalries, his disappointments; which he has carried before the world muffled in courtesy or pride. These, it may be, meet and are re-acted upon by kindred elements; engendered, perhaps, by the very atmosphere which he himself, in the first place, created. Oh! how many rich dwellings there are, crowded with every appointment of luxury, that are only glittering ice-caverns of selfishness and discontent; pavilions of misery, where jangling discord mars the show, and a chill of mutual distrust breathes through the sumptuous apartments, and heartless ostentation presides like a robed skeleton at the feast. You feel that nothing is genial or spontaneous there. The courtesy is dreary etiquette, and the laughter forced music. You would dine as happily with the forms on the canvas, with the cold marbles in the hall. For all this magnificence is nothing more than a gorgeous pall over dead affections--nothing more than the coronation of a living woe. "Better is a dinner of herbs," says the wise man, "where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith." And many a home exists where there _is_ but little more than a dinner of herbs, which affection and mutual loyalty, and sweet dispositions, convert into a palace. And there are fixed boundaries of peace, that society cannot encroach upon, while the processions of ambition and pleasure and ceaseless pursuit, pass by its windows and disturb it not. Here the good man and the brave man--the man who has nobly discharged his duty at whatever cost--is respected and understood. Hither he can retreat beyond the shots of calumny which have torn the ensign of his good name; beyond the deceit of men, which halts at the threshold. Here he can look calmly out upon the changes of fortune and the frowns of the world. Here his perplexed spirit finds inspirations of strength, and space for rest. There is no happiness in life, there is no misery, like that growing out of the dispositions which consecrate or desecrate a Home. Moreover, the elements of profoundest joy or suffering are there, because there are unfolded the deepest experiences of our mortal lot. There transpire those events which constitute the _eras_ of our existence. There, day by day, grows the sentiment of filial veneration and love. There is the joy of wedded felicity. There wells up in the heart the first strange gush of parental affection. There comes the intimation of awful change staring upon us with the face of death. There falls the shadow of the funeral train, passing across the threshold. There breaks in upon us the sense of bereavement, in the vacant chambers; where the familiar foot-step patters, where the familiar voice is heard no more. From the very nature of things, the profoundest happiness and misery of human life must be experienced among the conditions of Home. Having thus in some respects considered what Home _must_ be, I have virtually anticipated whatever may be said in the second division of this discourse respecting what Home _ought_ to be. Thus, as it is the earliest and most influential school, it behoves every one who is bound by its responsibilities to make it an agent of the _best culture_. The great subject of Home Education, is of itself enough for a series of discourses; and I have not room to lay down even the general propositions which belong to it, much less for specifications. But I would remind you--and I think the suggestion is especially needed amidst the whirl of city life--that there _is_ such a thing as Home Education, and it presses its claims upon everybody who inhabits a Home. There is such a thing as Home Education, differing from school education, whether of the week day or the Sabbath, and therefore it is a matter we ought to attend to, and not suppose we have done enough when we patronize an academy, or help fill a class on Sunday. To every parent--to every influential member of a household--there is committed a charge which can be shifted to no one else; there is an opportunity which no outside teacher possesses. There are some duties in life that we have to look for and to go after; there are others which are passed right into our hands, whether we will or not. And this duty of Home Education is of the latter kind. Now, I have just said that I cannot specify here, and even if there were room I am not sure that it would be advisable. For I doubt whether we can give any manual of methods and instruments in this respect, any more than there can be a manual of religious exercises suited to every spiritual peculiarity. Dispositions, capacities, circumstances, must create their own methods. And perhaps the poorest method of all would be some system of domestic education, which the experimenter thinks will do the work exactly. I am somewhat suspicious of systems. I am more than suspicious of any constrained formal method, bringing up children in a mere manual drill, crimping them into a mould of mincing proprieties, and making them speak with an automaton click. Perhaps the most headlong young men that can be found, are those who spent their early days in a sort of strait jacket with a clock-work movement. They were wound up so tight when they were boys, that now they take great pleasure in going fast, and running down. In other words, having felt their early training to be mere _training_, the moment they strip off the constraint, they plunge into the opposite extreme of _no_ constraint. Nay, I believe that even children who are left to their own instincts, and shoved out into the world to take care of themselves, are generally better balanced, and go with steadier motion than these. Of course, however, neither extreme is right. There is such a thing, I say once more, as Home Education, involving all necessary training and true constraint; and yet not oppressively felt as such, because it is free, informal, and respects the spontaneity of the childish nature. But, whether our Home Education be formal or informal, direct or indirect, there is one kind of education which we are sure to impart. It is the education of example, silent, effective, stronger and more easily apprehended than any set of maxims. I would we were all duly impressed with the responsibilities of Home as they appear in this light; might feel, however we may be absorbed in business or in pleasure, that the young mind and heart are receiving influences, and growing into expressions that in some way will surprise us. In the next place I observe, that if we display our real dispositions and characters at home, we should recognize it practically as _a sphere of moral discipline_. The family is a divine ordinance--the Home is an institution of God, forecast in the peculiarities of our very nature. History shows no period when it did not exist, and we discover no tribe so barbarous as to be without it. It is the foundation of all society. It embosoms the germ and ideal of the State. According to the purity of its relations, the intensity of its sympathies, the inviolability of its rights, a nation's life is high or low, feeble or strong, fickle or enduring. And if it is thus rooted in the nature and the history of man, we may well believe that it affords some of the profoundest occasions for that moral discipline which is the great purpose of our existence upon the earth. It is certainly the great sphere in which our affections are to be cultivated. Of course I do not mean that this is the limit of their cultivation. But here they are nurtured, and out of this they grow. As love is the Infinite Nature itself, so is it the prevalent sentiment of all life. It has been ordained that this great element should flow through every form of being, linking them together by a common feeling, and lending some interest to the most insignificant. And man has been set in the family relation that this sentiment might be developed. There is no one in whose heart it does not exist. You cannot find me a being so defaced, so alienated from the common stock of humanity, as to cherish in his bosom no secret fount of love, no fibril of affection linking him to something else. But of this love there are numerous degrees; and the highest forms of it, that go forth in expressions of self-sacrifice and worldwide sympathy, are only developed by culture. And for this culture there are rich opportunities amidst the relations and sanctities of Home. And there is opportunity among these relations also, for active duty, and in its daily tasks and responsibilities, is often illustrated that practical lesson which society so much needs--the lesson of mutual help. It is a school where we may learn endurance and charity. Out of its trials is developed the sense of religious need; and under the shadow of its bereavements we appreciate the glorious vision of Faith. There are other issues in life, where we need these divine helps; none where we feel the need of them more. Those who have stood by the sick-bed and taken the last look of the dearest earthly objects, and yet have lifted hearts of trust, and eyes of transcendent hope, are able to meet the intensest sorrows of the world, and to come out like refined gold. Home, then, should be regarded especially in this light, as a sphere where the richest elements of our moral culture are supplied. Finally, if at home we find the most essential happiness or misery of life, of course each should do his best to make it the most _attractive_ of all places. He should bring not his worst, but his best temper there. How many are there who bottle up their wrath all the day long, and uncork it when they get home! They had better reverse the process. If you must chafe under disappointment, and indulge angry passion, let it out in the excitement of the world, where the rough friction of business will help you to get rid of it, or where nobody has time to care whether you get rid of it or not. And let _business_ stay where it belongs. Do not interrupt social claims with its speculations; nor drag the counting-room into the parlor. There are some men with whom business is a disease; they are never easy with it and never rid of it. Thus, perhaps, they acquire a reputation for smartness and enterprise; but they do it, it is to be feared, by putting aside other and more sacred claims. Nor let him who is the genial companion abroad, be the morose boarder in his own house, reserving his vivacity for society and the lees for the fireside. It is a great deal better to be like the stream that is good and welcome wherever it flows, but is sure to be fresh at its source. Indeed, there are men who are made up of foam, and sparkle, and who circulate in society, but contribute nothing to the necessaries of life, and are returned empty. It is an unfortunate gift that cheers the world outdoors, but casts only a dreary shadow inside. Of course, in speaking of the influence of dispositions in making home attractive, I would include the duty of those who stay at home as well as of those who go abroad, and that self-sacrifice and kind hearts should be found as well as brought there. Indeed, if time would allow me to make a theme of what now can be only a hint, I should dwell largely upon _woman's_ influence in this matter. But home is to be rendered attractive not only by the disposition, but by the customs of its inmates. It must be a place to live, not merely to eat and sleep in; a place where we can find entertainment, and not always leave in search of it. It is really a monstrous folly, this fashionable treatment of home, which leads people to abandon it almost every night in pursuit of pleasure, or else to sweep it with a rout, which considers a household evening very dull, and makes Sunday a day for sleeping and yawning. The central idea of home is _stability_, and this has much less chance to be realized in the city than in the country. In the latter, old forms and landmarks are not so liable to interruption, and the slow process of time works instead of the hand of innovation. But in a city, where a man emigrates before he has fairly settled, and where many move with every May-day, the idea of a homestead is almost obsolete. Elegance, solidity, venerable associations, none of these can resist the march of improvement, and the rapid tide of business enterprise. The main streets of a great city in this country, may almost be termed so many dissolving views of perpetual change and renewal. But, perhaps, there is hardly one of us who does not feel that by his or her own exertions the essential element of Home can be made far more abiding than it now is; and where we hear of frivolous daughters and dissipated sons, many a parent may ask the question, "What have I done to cheer and consecrate the household world, and make it more abiding?" My friends, when I consider the magnitude and importance of the subject now before us, and how many topics of discussion grow out of it--when I think how much must be left entirely unsaid--I entreat you not to suppose that I offer this discourse as anything more than a _suggestion_--a suggestion meant to turn your attention to this subject of Home in the City, and leaving it to the elaboration of your own thoughts. Remember, here abide the deepest springs of social life. The noblest privileges, the greatest duties, find their basis here; and we are taught first "to show piety at Home." And the influence of this institution upon all other fields of human action, private or public, is too obvious to mention. All life flows from the centre, outwards; and the citizen who desires the order and purity of the community in which he lives; the philanthropist, who, under all conditions, regards the highest welfare of his race; the Christian, who urges the secret culture of the soul, must look with peculiar solicitude to this institution. It is one whose impotence is demonstrated by the strength of the instinct which creates it and clings to it--an instinct which associates the most genuine happiness with its sacred enclosure of affection, however rude or poor that spot may be--which, while a man has such a place to call his own, makes him feel that he is somebody, and has some tie and claim in the world; and which, on the other hand, associated the most bitter destitution, the dreariest isolation, with that one word--"Homeless." How this instinct abides, how long and how far it goes with us, is beautifully illustrated in the lines of Goldsmith. "In all my wand'rings round this world of care, In all my griefs--and God has giv'n my share, I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bow'rs to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose. * * * * * Around my fire an ev'ning group to draw, And tell of all I felt, and all I saw; And, as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue, Pants to the place from whence at first he flew, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return--and die at Home at last." Hopes, my friends, which I think glow in the breasts of most of us, and burst spontaneously from our lips. "Let us," we say, "if our lot may be so ordered--if the lines of duty run not otherwise--let us live at Home." Here, amidst those darkened and brightened associations which are woven in the warp and woof of our deepest experience. Here, where gentle memories steal upon us with the shadows of the twilight, and for ever tapestry the walls. Here, where we have held delightful intercourse with man, and secret communion with God. Here, where we have tried to do our duty, and exercise our love, and to drink with patience the sweet and bitter which our Father mingles in life's mysterious cup. Here, where old friends are always cherished and new ones gladly come. Here, where the dearest ties of earth have bound us in a family circle; and though here and there we find broken links, we still keep hold of them, and they draw us up. And when on this familiar hearth our own vital lamp burns low, and the golden bowl begins to shudder and the silver cord to untwine, let our last look be upon faces that we best love; let the gates that open into the celestial City be these well-known doors--and thus may we also _die_ at Home! And this instinct of Home is not attached merely to earthly conditions, but mingles with those aspirations which flow into the illimitable future. As in the vast city we seek some enclosure of our own--some place of shelter for our heads, of sympathy for our hearts; so, respecting the destiny of the soul. In spite of all our philosophy, we cannot be satisfied with the conception of a mere immaterial essence floating hither and thither in immensity. The intellect looks eagerly forward to a boundless and excursive state; but the affections, the sentiments, yearn for some locality--some spot of residence and repose. We cannot help cherishing the conception of a place where our friends are grouped together, and whither we shall go, though to be united in wider and more glorious relations. And, knowing no better name for it, with eyes of hope and tearful rapture, we look up and call it "Home." THE ALLIES OF THE TEMPTER. DISCOURSE VI. THE ALLIES OF THE TEMPTER. He that is not with me is against me.--MATTHEW xii. 30. One of the discourses of the preceding series was devoted to a consideration of the vices--especially the three prominent vices--of great cities. I propose at the present time to speak of the _Influences_, more or less direct, by which these and kindred evils are encouraged. Vice, and moral corruption of any kind, no doubt has its roots in the gross hearts and in the perverted appetites of men. But the most superficial observer must see that these are nourished not merely by their native soil, but by the social atmosphere which spreads around. Of course character constitutes the man, and, however this may be affected by circumstances, it enfolds the consciousness of an original personality acting upon and through and in spite of its conditions. Nevertheless, the ingredients of this very personality are assimilated out of these conditions, and it is difficult to limit or define the subtile elements that blend in the deepest currents of a man's nature. It is, at least, a simple truism that he differs in one state of society from what he is in another. And, therefore, among the forces which help make up his moral condition, we must calculate the social forces. His virtues are not all self-sustained, and his vices draw nutriment from fine and remote channels. It would be an interesting process to analyze our own habits and temper and cast of thought, and find how much of this is involved with our physical relations. The air we breathe, the house in which we dwell, the very way in which it fronts the sun, the degrees of light and of shade that fall upon us with the flying hours, all weave their delicate influences into the tissues of our being. And how much that we do not suspect comes to us, day by day, in social intercourse, in the bearing of friends, in the tone and air of conversation, in the mere magnetism of the parlor or the street! How much to strengthen or to weaken us; to clear or to cloud our moral atmosphere; to make us fresh and decisive, or to slowly sap our virtue! But it is a more solemn task to compute the influences that proceed _from_ us, and to discover how, unknown to ourselves, we are swaying the circles of other lives. Why, the mightiest forces go silently. You do not see the gases that compose the vital air. You do not feel the aroma that steals along loaded with poison, or wafts a blessing through the sick man's window. You do not hear the electric pulse that beats in the summer light and in the drop of dew. Neither can you estimate the mysterious attraction that plays all through this network of social relations, nor the energy of good or of evil with which it is charged not merely from your words and deeds, but from the still reservoir of your example. When I look around at the prevalent vices of the city, then, and at its various forms of corruption, I am not willing to rest with the mere assertion, that all this is the fruit of personal sin and folly on the part of those who have yielded to temptation. It _is_ the fruit of personal sin and folly. And we, perhaps, in our serene respectabilities, shrink back and wonder at it. It _is_ strange--is it not?--that the young, the fair, the gifted, should yield themselves to that arch-deceit which has allured and ruined men for six thousand years? Is it not the same old guilt, the same sophistry and foolishness, here in New York, that it always has been? Did it not bear the same Circean cup through the halls of Nineveh and Babylon, and fling Cæsars and Alexanders to the ground? Did it not wear the same seductive smile and harlot tinsel when it walked the streets of Tyre, and reclined in the decorated chambers of Egypt? And will not its votaries find now, as then, that it entices with the embrace of death and the fascination of hell? Why should they thus float upon the very rim of this great whirlpool, and not notice the groans that come up from its depths; and see that its phosphoric illusion is mixed with fiery flakes of torment and the foam of despair? It is indeed wonderful that so many should be thus deluded over and over again; so many noble energies thrown away, so many sanctions trampled upon, so many bright hopes quenched for ever. It is wonderful that any being made in the form of man, should cast down his prerogatives and wallow like the beast. Sufficient evidence of sin and folly in those who do this, to be sure; but in what way do these allurements present themselves? What are the resources and entrenchments of these vices, by which they act upon human appetite and passion? You point me to brilliant windows and gay apartments; to sparkling glasses, and shining heaps, and shapes of painted shame. "These," you say, "are the forms which the Tempter assumes. Under smiling features and fair garlands, he hides at first that hideousness which in due time is revealed to his victims. From the lighted vestibules which open so easily to the touch, and where all seems only a coronation of youthful pleasure and natural joy, the feet of men slide downward into those abysses which are hidden from the public gaze, and over whose depths the blackness of darkness broods." And all this, again, is true. These are the ways in which the Tempter works. But is there nothing but this to explain the power which evil has upon men, in the midst of the great city? These manifold allurements, these haunts of infamy and shambles of destruction--I see them standing upon strange foundations. I see them propped by these very influences to which I have alluded; influences of social condition and individual example. They would not be so formidable, they would not stand so long, were it not that respectability in its daily walk and conversation; and social culture in thousands of homes; and even justice in its lofty seat; lend them support. "He that is not with me is against me," said Jesus; and, taking this proverb as a rule, a good many people may be surprised to find that, in one way and another, they are _Allies_ of the Tempter. The allies of the Tempter, I propose to speak of now--not the forms of Temptation, which I have already illustrated. Nor do I intend to dwell upon those _direct_ conditions of moral evil, out of which vice and crime grow as spontaneously as weeds out of a damp and neglected soil--those wide seed fields of _ignorance_ and abject _poverty_ which lie around us. But the more remote and indirect causes it may be profitable for us to consider; and to these I now proceed. I observe, then, in the first place, that the Tempter has one Ally in _Public Sanction_. There are sources of vice and crime that are permitted and encouraged by _Law_. I hardly need specify the prominent instance to which I allude. But I am not aware of a more enormous public inconsistency than what is termed "the License System"--the system of permitting the sale of intoxicating drinks in a degree, and of restricting them in a degree. For, by this method, either a moral wrong is committed, or else a civil one. If these drinks are an individual and public injury; if they distribute the seeds of disease, crime, death, and every form of social misery; then what right have we in any respect to set upon them the solemn sanction of a Law? If, on the other hand, they are a benefit to mankind; a good gift of Providence, as some seem to think; why should we hamper their circulation? Why should we allow one man the privilege of distributing such a blessing, and forbid another who, no doubt, is equally zealous for the public good? But this very system is a confession by public opinion, in its most authentic form of expression, that the sale of intoxicating drinks is an evil. "Only," we are told, "as it is a prevalent and deep-seated evil, it must be _regulated_." But how can we regulate an irregularity? How can you regulate an obstruction that is involved with the springs of a machine, or the works of a clock? The only possible method obvious to common sense, would be to remove the obstruction; and it would be thought the most foolish speculation conceivable for one to spend his ingenuity in contriving some way to keep the obstruction where it is, and yet to keep the clock going as it ought. If it moved regularly, the matter referred to would not be an obstruction; and if it did not, the contrivance to keep it there would be a help to the obstruction. Now, I consider this great vice of Intemperance a decided obstruction in the clock-work of an individual man, or the more general mechanism of society. It transforms a great many faces into bad dial-plates, disturbs the pendulum of public order, makes people go much too fast, and renders them liable to strike at all times. Now, if a man, or a community, can be made to go just as well with it as without it, we certainly need no legislation, for there _is_ no obstruction. On the other hand, if it is essentially an irregularity, the only rational method is to get rid of its accessories altogether. To enact some way in which the irregularity shall work, is to confirm and sanction the irregularity. And the license-system--for I wish to be plain and specific here--confirms and sanctions the agents of intemperance. It indicates a way in which the irregularity may work. And not only is vice thus aided by the Law. The existence of such a sanction engenders either an error or a moral wrong. For it indicates that the sale of intoxicating drinks is a public benefit, which is false; or, on the other hand, that it is lawful to uphold an evil. The same principle carried out by individuals, would excuse almost any fault. The man who steals a loaf of bread may contend that it is a necessary expedient; and he who fills an empty purse at his neighbor's expense, only endeavors to regulate an irregularity. But suppose we make the system a strict one, what process should be employed? Probably you would say--"break up all these filthy and low haunts; all these places where the habitually intemperate, the degraded, the wretchedly poor congregate; and let these beverages be sold only in respectable places and to respectable people." But is this really the best plan? On the contrary, it seems quite reasonable to maintain that it is better to sell to the intemperate than to the sober--to the degraded than to the respectable--for the same reason that it is better to burn up an old hulk than to set fire to a new and splendid ship. I think it worse to put the first glass to a young man's lips, than to crown with madness an old drunkard's life-long alienation--worse to wake the fierce appetite in the depths of a generous and promising nature, than to take the carrion of a man, a mere shell of imbecility, and soak it in a fresh debauch. Therefore, if I were going to say where the License should be granted in order to show its efficacy, I would say--take the worst sinks of intemperance in the city, give them the sanction of the Law, and let them run to overflowing. But shut up the gilded apartments where youth takes its first draught, and respectability just begins to falter from its level. Close the ample doors through which enters the long train of those who stumble to destruction and reel into quick graves, and let the flood overwhelm only the maimed and battered conscripts that remain. Besides, it is better to see vice as it really is, than as it sometimes appears. The danger of intemperance is when it assumes this very garb of respectability, and sits in the radiant circle of fashion attended by wit and beauty and social delight. Let us see the Tempter, not as he seems when he throws out his earliest lures, in festal garments and with roses around his brow; but as he looks when fairly engaged in his work, showing his genuine expression. Let us see this vice of intemperance in its _results_, as they teem and darken here in the midst of our city life. Lay bare its channel--let us see to its very depths--where it flows over the wrecks of human happiness, and over dead men's bones. Lay bare its festering heaps of disease, its madness, its despair, its domestic desolation, its reckless sweep over all order and sanctity; and thus, tracing it from its sources under glittering chandeliers and in fonts of crystal, we shall be able to say--"this is the real element which exists and does its work, by public connivance and with the sanction of Law!" If you ask me then, whether I think that a statute of absolute prohibition would stop this flowing curse, I reply that at least it would put the influence of authority on the right side. It would lend it the force of consistent endeavor. As it is, it would be far better if the public sanction had no expression; for now it only confirms and guarantees the evil. Its power is exerted not in the right, but in the wrong direction. It is an ally of the tempter. For the spirit of everlasting Justice and Benevolence, speaking as it were by the mouth of Jesus, says--"He that is not with me is against me." But I observe, in the second place, that the forces of temptation in the city are nourished by _public neglect_. In individual experience it will be found, I think, that sins of _omission_ are more numerous and are worse than sins of _commission_. If we examine our lives closely, we shall discover that our moral indebtedness comes even less from what we have done, than from what we ought to have done. And this individual experience has a counterpart in social conditions. How many evils among us grow up under the shadow of inoperative laws--laws which have a voice and nothing else--nay, hardly a voice, so seldom are they heard even to speak. They appear to have been enacted merely as a compliment to decency, and they remain in the statute-book as "idle as painted ships upon a painted ocean." The dens of debauch keep open doors night and day; the saloons of profligacy send out their cards of invitation; the gambler rattles his triumphant dice; but excursive policemen never see, and vigilant magistrates never hear! Some provision of nature has imparted a very singular quality to the optic powers of the one, and the auditory nerves of the other. The laws against this vice, or that custom, stand fixed and silent; and as for putting them in operation, one would as soon think of pulling up so many grave-stones. They _are_ the grave-stones of a dead public sentiment--the stumbling-blocks of a blind justice, that too often shakes hands with the very guilt which it professes to condemn. I do not, by any means, believe that everything is to be accomplished by law. I do not believe that the profoundest results are to be accomplished by it. But, if it possesses any efficacy at all, it consists in its power to repress open and shameless wrong; and where any such wrong _is_ open and shameless, public neglect is the cause, and such public neglect, therefore, is an Ally of the Tempter. And let us consider the enormity of such evils. In every great city there are some omissions of executive duty, which, though grievous to be borne, are noticed with good humor. But there are moral swamps, sending up their foul steam to pollute the common light; there are kennels of uncleanness, running with the waste of human lives, sweeping along with the death-gurgle of human souls; there is a dry-rot of impurity infecting the town-air, withering the dearest sanctities of society and of home--and over this kind of evil we cannot be facetious. Think how much is risked here, and how much is lost! Domestic happiness, reputation, honor, health, order, the prospects of the young, the peace of the old--Fathers, the hopes of your sons! Mothers, the interests of your daughters! and, though speaking may have little effect, say whether we ought not to speak, and to speak indignantly, of the neglect which lets these evils spread with deadly luxuriance, and winks at them as though they were harmless? But, my friends, what do we mean by "public sanction," or "public neglect?" There are some convenient synonyms which help us to cover up our personal responsibility--help us to transfer our own sense of duty to a vague secondary agent, and keep peace with our own consciences. And yet they are only _synonyms_, after all. Now this term "public" is but another word for the aggregate of our personal obligations, and does not for a single moment rid us of our share in the general influence. The real point of my present topic is this--you and I and every other individual involved in this network of social relations, are helping or weakening the force of these prevalent evils. And it may arouse us to some decision of conduct to consider how the most respectable--those who would shrink with horror from these foul customs--are, nevertheless, Allies of the Tempter. And I might state, as a comprehensive proposition, that every man _is_ an Ally of the Tempter, who does not put forth a conscious and positive moral energy; who does not habitually throw his example and his influence in the right direction. It is not enough that he abstains from wrong himself--that he is chaste, and temperate, and upright, and unimpeached. For perhaps the most hopeless people, morally speaking, are those people who, according to their own confession, "have never done any harm." There is a good prospect for those who are trying to grow better, however they may slip and flounder. There is hope, on the other hand, for the desperately wicked--for the very violence of one extreme precipitates the other; and sometimes the best and purest souls have been swept by a thunder-shower of sin. But those who rest upon the fact that they "have never done any harm," by being so easily contented show but little moral vitality. There is no aspiration in their natures. They seem to have no particular mission in the universe; for, if they have never done any harm, they have done little else. They are poorly fitted for this earth, which demands the effort of all our faculties; poorly fitted for heaven, whose inhabitants would not make harmlessness their chief characteristic. Their residence and their paradise might be a great exhausted receiver, where there is no gravitation to draw them down, and no air to send them up. But, in truth, these people deceive themselves. Every man exerts a _positive_ influence, and cannot, if he would, be a mere negation in the world. In the great conflict of good and evil there is no middle ground. There are no compromises in God's government, and neutral men are the devil's allies. "He that is not with me, is against me." Let us see, then, how possible it is that _we_ may contribute to the force of evil in the City. In other words, let us inquire--in what way do respectable and harmless people, as they deem themselves, become Allies of the Tempter? In the first place, by their _customs_. And, chief of all, by the custom of an intense and inconsiderate selfishness. How many there are who require no other sanction for what they do than "that pleases me," or "this gratifies me!" It is wonderful what a mighty agent _self_ is, estimated by its own standards. It is the hero of every exploit, the centre of every event, and the oracle of all opinions. It interprets the purpose of the universe; it finds out exactly what the world was made for. At least, a good many, apparently, have ascertained that the world was made for them, and that they were sent into it to get what gratification they can. And it appears sadly out of tune to them, if it does not serve this end. In anything they do, therefore, they consider only selfish consequences. They do not apprehend the universe in its great harmony. They do not trace out its web of mutual relations--a braid of light held in the hand of Infinite Love. They do not know the sympathy that shoots in the crystal, and shimmers in the aurora, and beats in the heart of the ocean, and makes the silent music that rolls from sphere to sphere along the glittering scale of heaven. If they did, they would discover, perhaps, that the social world is constructed upon the same plan; and man cannot be an alien from the common humanity however hard he may try. Yes: concerning any custom, you have not only yourself to consider, but the bearings of its influence throughout this tissue of hearts and minds with which you are involved. You cannot isolate yourself from your responsibilities. You cannot shut yourself within comfortable walls, and say--"Here is the limit of my obligations, and here I will do as I please!" You may _say_ this, but you do not rid yourself of these claims. Through imperceptible aqueducts your influence runs abroad; and what you do, and what you are, contributes particles of disease or health to the social atmosphere that envelopes all. I look around, then, upon the vices and even the crimes of the City, and I say that some of them find root in the customs of the respectable and the fashionable. Profligacy, which we shrink from in its open profession, and which appears abominable in its avowed haunts, finds encouragement wherever the libertine receives the smile of beauty, and the guilt of the meanest sort of a man is excused on account of an agreeable manner. Thus the poison of the snake, and the blight of his venom on many a reputation and many a womanly heart, is all forgotten in the drawing-room, because of the fascination of his hiss and the glitter of his skin. Again, the Tempter has an Ally in the world of Traffic, wherever bad things are stamped with respectable names--when, for instance, swindling is called "smartness," and robbery "per-centage." Among people of less note in the world these matters are named "cheating" and "stealing," and some of them may take punishment the more reluctantly because they cannot perceive the difference. And, still again, I think that a little use of intoxicating drinks is like the little matter that kindles a great fire, and that there would not be so much intemperance if there were not so many "temperate" drinkers. The sluices of the grog-shop are fed from the wine-glasses in the parlor; and there is a lineal descent from the gentleman who hiccups at his elegant dinner-table to the sot who makes a bed of the gutter. "Am I my brother's keeper?" asked the first man who reddened his hands with the violated life of a man; and the answer came crying upward in a voice of blood from the ground. "Am I my brother's keeper?" _you_ ask, perhaps, with a tone of surprise or scorn. _You_ ask O! respectable gentleman or lady; O! man in the thick of business; O! self-indulgent Epicurean;--and the answer comes to you not from the ground merely, but from the universal air--the answer of kindred pulses, of confluent sympathies, of an inseparable humanity--though it swarms in rags, and riots in shame, and seems far off from you in its hell of debasement and despair. Nay, perhaps the answer comes very _near_ to you. It may come from some one of your own household. You may ask--"Who has tempted even my very child?" Ask _Yourself_--"Need he have gone outside this very door to find temptation?" Ah! perhaps you are not merely an Ally of the Tempter, but have furnished conscripts for his vast army. Your children perhaps will rise up and call you--_not_ "blessed." And see, too, what kind of conscripts the Tempter draws from the ranks of respectable and especially of fashionable life. Mere striplings, so dwarfed and dwindled by precocious dissipation that they look like feeble specimens of wax-work; whose faculties--the evident product of a thin soil--have been developed by bottles of wine and fast horses; whose memories are too short to remember their parents; whose ideas are too artificial to touch any genuine spring of nature; who are ashamed of true manliness, and make a miserable farce of what they _call_ "manliness;" and who, as they parade the streets, make up a sort of bombastic interlude in the drama of "Young America." But, whatever view we may take of this general subject, it is evident that we cannot easily exaggerate the influence of "respectable and fashionable" customs upon the forces of temptation. And, surely, it becomes each of us to consider the tendencies of his own example, and ask--"Is it toward the right or the wrong? Is it for, or against the good?" Again, the Tempter finds help from our _indifference_. This, indeed, may be the qualification which should be applied to the remarks I have just made. It is not to be supposed that the evil influences which go out from the customs alluded to, are the results of _intention_. They spring up in a lack of interest and of the consciousness of duty. They grow rank and luxuriant in neglect. If we were only in earnest as to these vices and crimes and guilty customs; if we would only wake from our apathy, to reflection and conviction; how soon would they diminish, and how many of them would pass away! But, as comprehensive of this, and in fact all the rest that may be said, I observe, finally, that the temptations of a great city are strong because of a lack of the spirit of _Christian love_. In one respect, especially, is it true that men in general are not _with_ Jesus, and therefore are against him. They have not his sympathies, his spirit of self-sacrifice, his broad, deep, universal charity. Baneful customs, and cold indifferentism grow up in a soil that is watered by no living and unselfish love. They show the dryness and the baseness of our social state. And it is not merely in the lack of active and practical love that the Tempter grows strong; but in the exercise of a prevalent _uncharitableness_. Too many of us have no disposition but scorn for the fallen; see no blessed possibilities in them; do not detect any divine ray glimmering in the thick darkness--do not discern the precious soul, like a crown-jewel, in its filthy and battered casket. And if this paralyzes and kills the springs of our own activity, need I say how the hearts of the offending are repelled and hardened in such a hostile atmosphere? Need I say how desperate is the Ishmaelitish conviction; the sense of isolation and antagonism; and, on the other hand, how powerful and healing, even for the most distant and hopeless, is the sweet attraction of sympathy? And what are we, that we dare to cherish this exclusive horror, this pitiless, unrelenting scorn? When we consider our own slips, compared with our temptations; the account to which God may hold us, not the smooth standards of human respectability; how much higher is our own moral level, that we feel no chords of a common humanity reaching down even to those fallen ones, and cannot stoop to touch them? My friends, it may be, after all, that the Tempter has no surer ally than the averted face of contempt and the word of unsoftened rebuke, driving the barb of conscious guilt deeper and despairingly into a brother's soul. And, as I look upon this mass of social evil, these steaming wells of passion, these solid fortifications of habit where the Tempter is entrenched, I ask how is all this to pass away? And the answer is--only by the spirit of Christian Love, sweeping these impediments of selfishness from the heart, and animating us to effort. _With_ Christ the work certainly can be done. In this Gospel-beating amidst the guilt and sorrow of the world like the pulsations of a Divine heart--in the few leaves of this Testament--there is an illimitable power, before whose inspiration in the purposes and deeds of men no evil thing shall stand. And the spirit and exercise of this Love _is_ Religion. It is the up-shot of all that is preached--it is the open and tangible test of every mystic experience that drifts through the soul--it is so deep, so broad, and runs so far, that it comprehends all requirements; and they who cherish it, and practice it in the low and dark and desolate places of the world, are the true saints. Nothing else will do in its place. Not Churches, nor creeds, nor rituals, nor respectabilities. Without it we are not friends of Christ, nor co-workers with God. Without it we deepen the channels of human woe, and prop the strong-holds of wickedness. Without it, whatever we may not be, we are Allies of the Tempter. The Saviour says to each of us to-day, placed amidst these antagonistic forces of Life--"He that is not with me is against me." THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR. DISCOURSE VII. THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR. The young children ask bread, and no man breaketh it unto them.--LAMENTATIONS iv., 4. The writer of these words bewailed a state of War and Captivity--a state of things in which the great relations of human life are broken up and desecrated. But it is strange to find that the most flourishing forms of civilization involve conditions very similar to this. For, if any man will push beyond the circle of his daily associations, and enter the regions of the abject poor, he will see how the hostile forces of privation, and hunger, and unguided impulse, have laid waste the sanctities of existence in the abodes and in the breasts of thousands as with sword and with fire. There is no essential difference in starvation, whether it ensues from the ravages of an invading host or from the lack of means. Temptation is a fierce legion; and death looks no more terrible under a Babylonian helmet, than it does upon the gaunt faces of men who die upon the bare floor or wallow in rags. The worst calamity _in_ a calamity--if I may use such an expression--the most deplorable thing in any of the great evils of life, occurs when the selfish instinct within us is aroused, by want or terror, to such a degree that it overwhelms all social limitations, absorbs every sympathy, and leaves nothing but an intense individualism. This is the result in a sudden shock of danger, when the alarmed instinct is the first that starts to the summons. Sometimes, in protracted peril, it grows into an actual delirium of selfishness, and drowns even the sense of fear--as men amidst the horrors of a shipwreck will commit the most brutal excesses, and even rob the dying. And thus, in the desolation of Jerusalem as described by Jeremiah, the very yearnings of maternity were swallowed up by this fierce instinct. "The hands of tender-hearted women cooked their own children; They were their food, in the destruction of the daughter of my people." And results as bad as this appear in the conditions of poverty, suffering, and social degradation. Every fine chord of human nature is seared, sodden, torn from its sockets, in the darkness of the moral faculties and by the pressure of animal wants. The poor man is conscious of nothing but privation and suffering. He gazes at the power and discipline and pomp of society all about him, not as an ally but as a captive, or as a savage foe. The whole wears the aspect of a besieging army, and the Ishmaelitish feeling predominates. In the midst of the City he becomes an Arab of the desert, a robber of the rock. Now, it makes little difference whether the circle is wider or narrower, whether the siege is a moral or a literal one, whether the agent is the sword or the condition of society. The essential results will be the same. The civilization of New York may and does hem in a desolation as fearful in kind as that of Jerusalem, and involves sufferings as keen, and wakes up instincts as fiercely selfish. And one whose sympathies with the wide humanity are as fresh and clear as the Prophet's were with the woes of his people, might draw closer within these various circles of prosperity and refinement and activity, that lend such attractiveness to the great city--this magnificent girdle of commerce, embossed with the symbols of all nations--these arteries of traffic, filled with circulating wealth and power--these groups of fashion and of beauty, whose cheapest jewels would open the kingdom of heaven to ten thousand souls; he might pass within all these bands of "civilization," and in some alley, or "Five Points," sit down and weep for the calamity of his brethren. He would behold there War and Captivity enough to fill an entire volume of Lamentations. Captivity! were men ever bound by a darker chain, or trampled by a harder heel, than those victims of destitution and of their own passions? War! did the Jew behold any hosts more terrible pressing into Jerusalem, than you and I might see if we looked about us? The entrenched filth that all day long sends its steaming rot through lane and dwelling, through bone and marrow, and saps away the life. Cold that encamps itself in the empty fire-place, and blows through the broken door, and paralyzes the naked limbs. Hunger that takes the strong man by the throat, and kills the infant in its mother's arms. And still another traitorous legion that, equipped with the fascinations of the bottle and the shamelessness of harlotry, appeals to the passions of the brutal and proffers comfort to the hearts of the sad. War and Captivity in the midst of peace and refinement--is it not, my friends? And, with all this, may we not expect that fierce instinct of selfishness which overwhelms every other impulse, and breaks out in crime? Ah! and do we not discover a counterpart to that saddest feature of all in such circumstances--a desecration even of the parental instinct? Fathers, beating their sons into the career of guilt; and mothers--worse than those who made horrid food of their own children--offering their daughters to the Moloch of lust in the shape of some "gentlemanly" devil with a portable hell in his own breast! And it seems to me that if one with a prophet vision and a prophet heart, widened to the compass of humanity, should thus go into these waste places, nothing would affect him more; nothing would strike a deeper and tenderer chord in his bosom; than the condition of these little ones amidst the siege and terror. And, comprehending all their need--their moral as well as their physical destitution--he might exclaim, as describing the most pitiable spectacle of all--"The young children ask bread, and no man breaketh it unto them." And I think that every one of you who has reflected at all upon this subject, must feel that, of all the conditions of Humanity in the darker regions of the City, there is none more sorrowful, more momentous, and at the same time more hopeful, than the condition of the Children of the Poor. And I do not call your attention to this subject to-night with the expectation of proclaiming any fresh doctrine, or offering any novel suggestion, but because in a series of discourses like the present I cannot consistently pass by such a prominent phase; and more especially because I wish to push the old truth from your heads into your hearts, so that you may be excited to immediate and practical action. I purpose then, in regard to the Children of the Poor, to maintain one or two _principles_, to state a few _facts_, and to consider some _remedies_; and these will constitute the divisions of my discourse. In the first place then, I lay down a general principle which divides itself into two specific principles. I maintain that we are under peculiar obligations in regard to children. Of all our duties, except those which we owe directly to God--of all the ways in which we are required to _show_ our duty to God--I know of none more peremptory than this. It is the obligation of an instinct that appears everywhere; that swells in the breasts of the rudest people; that mingles with the most tender and beautiful and sacred associations of human life. Childhood and Children! is there any heart so sheathed in worldliness, or benumbed by sorrow, or hardened in its very nature, as to feel no gentle thrill responding to these terms? Surely, in some way these little ones have "touched the finer issues" of our being, and given us an unconscious benediction. Some of you are Mothers, and have acquired the holiest laws of duty, the sweetest solicitudes, the noblest inspirations, in the orbit of a child's life. And, however wide the circle of its wandering, you have held it still, by some tether of the heart, bound to the centre of a fathomless and unforgetting love. Some of you are Fathers, and in the opening promise of your sons have built fresh plans and enjoyed young hopes, and even in the decline of life have walked its morning paths anew. Many of us have felt our first great sorrow, and the breaking up of the spiritual deep within us, by the couch of a dead child. Clasping the little lifeless hand, we have comprehended, as never before, the _reality_ of death, and through the gloom, covering all the world about us, have caught sudden glimpses of the immortal fields. And, all of us, I trust, are thankful that God has not created merely men and women, crimped into artificial patterns, with selfish speculation in their eyes, with sadness and weariness and trouble about many things carving the wrinkles and stealing away the bloom; but pours in upon us a fresh stream of being that overflows our rigid conventionalisms with the buoyancy of nature, plays into this dusty and angular life like the jets of a fountain, like floods of sunshine, upsets our miserable dignity, meets us with a love that contains no deceit, a frankness that rebukes our quibbling compliments, nourishes the poetry of the soul, and, perpetually descending from the threshold of the Infinite, keeps open an arch-way of mystery and heaven. And now, just consider what a child _is_--this being thus fresh from the unknown realm, tender, plastic, dependent; a bud enfolding the boundless possibilities of humanity, and growing rank, running to waste, or opening in beauty, as you turn, neglect, or support it--just consider what a child is; and he must be far gone in indifference or depravity, who does not recognize the specific duty growing out of a general obligation which is forced upon us by the intrinsic claims of that child's nature. If we were appealed to by nothing else but its drooping reliance and natural wants, there would be enough to draw our attention to every phase of childhood that comes within our sphere. But our purpose this evening calls us away from these brighter images of childhood, to consider those who are surrounded with the most savage aspects and the worst influences of the world. And, beside the absolute duty which is imposed upon us by their natural position, I observe that the Children of the Poor create an appeal to _prudential_ considerations. They form a large proportion of those groups known in every city as "The _Dangerous_ Classes." For they will be developed somehow. If they receive not that attention which is demanded by their position; if they are left to darkness and neglect; still, it is no mere mass of negative existence that they constitute. There is vitality there and positive strength, in those lanes and cellars, put forth for evil if not drawn towards the good. We must not confound ignorance with torpor of spirit or bluntness of understanding. One of the most remarkable characteristics of vagrant children is a keen, precocious intellect. A boy of seven in the streets of a city is more developed in this respect than one of fourteen in the country--a development, of course, which is easily accounted for by the antagonisms with which the child has had to contend, and the devices which have been inspired by the sheer pressure of want. He has been pitched into the sea of events to sink or swim, and those sharpened faculties are the tentacles put forth by an effort of nature in order to secure a hold of life. And there is something very sad and very fearful in this precocity. The vagrant boy has known nothing of the stages of childhood, conducting with beautiful simplicity from one timid step to another, and gradually forming it for the realities of the world. But the neglected infant has wilted into the premature man, with his old cunning look, blending so fantastically, so mournfully, with the unformed features of youth. Knowing the world on its worst side--knowing its hostility, its knavery, its foulness, its heartless materialism--knowing it as the man does not know it who has only breathed the country air, and looked upon the open face of nature. Is it not very sad, my friends, that the vagrant boy _should_ know so much; and, without one hour of romance, one step of childish innocence and imagination, should have gone clear through "the world" which so many boast that they understand--the knave's world, the libertine's world, the world of the skeptical, scoffing, Ishmaelitish spirit? And yet he has so little _real_ knowledge--there is such a cloud of ignorance and moral stupor resting upon his brain and heart! So much of him is merely animal, foxy, wolfish, and this sharpened intellect only a faculty, an instinct, a preternatural organ pushed out to gain subsistence with. It is a terrible anomaly, and yet, I say, it is none the less an active power, and shows us that, however neglected, the child of the abject poor is not dormant or undeveloped. In the first place, very likely, it has developed itself into a dogged atheism--a sulky unbelief. The brain of the vagrant boy is active with speculation as well as with practice--he has some theory of this life in which he lives, and, as might be expected, a theory woven with the tissues of his own experience; woven with the shadows and the lurid lights of his lot. A gentleman passing one day through the streets of Edinboro', saw a boy, who lived by selling fire-wood, standing with a heavy load upon his back, looking at a number of boys amusing themselves in a play-ground. "Sometimes," says the writer, "he laughed aloud, at other times he looked sad and sorrowful. Stepping up to him I said--'Well, my boy, you seem to enjoy the fun very much; but why don't you lay down your load of sticks?'... 'I wan't thinking about the burden--I wan't thinking about the sticks, sir.' 'And may I ask what you were thinking about?' 'Oh, I was just thinking about what the good missionary said the other day. You know, sir, I don't go to church, for I have no clothes; but one of the missionaries comes every week to our stair, and holds a meeting. He was preaching to us last week, and among other things he said--"Although there are rich folks and poor folks in this world, yet we are all brothers." Now, sir, just look at these lads--every one of them has fine jackets, fine caps, with warm shoes and stockings, but I have none;--So I was just thinking if those were my brothers, it doesn't look like it, sir--it doesn't look like it. See, sir, they are all flying kites, while I am flying in rags--they are running about at kick-ball and cricket; but I must climb the long, long stairs, with a heavy load, and an empty stomach, whilst my back is like to break. It doesn't look like it, sir--it doesn't look like it.'" Or, take the following instance, which I extract from the Records of one of the Benevolent Societies of our own city: "Can you read or write? said the visitor to a poor boy. Marty hung his head. I repeated the question two or three times before he answered, and the tears dropped on his hands, as he said, despairingly, and I thought defiantly--'No, sir, I can't read nor write neither. God don't want me to read, sir. Indeed, so it looks likely. Didn't He take away my father since before I can remember him? And haven't I been working all the time to fetch in something to eat, and for the fire, and for clothes? I went out to pick coal when I could take a basket in my arms--and I have had no chance for school since.'" Now this is fallacious and dangerous reasoning, my friends; nevertheless, it _is_ reasoning, and shows that the mind of the poor boy is not inactive as to the problems of life. And the intellect which is so acute in theory will soon drive to practice. Stimulated by that selfish instinct which, as I have shown, will under pressure absorb every other consideration, he speedily commences the career of _crime_. And have you ever looked into this matter of crime? Or do you know it only as a monstrous fact in the social mechanism, and in the records of human nature? If so, it would be well for us to consider the way in which it appears to the violator of right--the way in which things look to him who works _inside_ the web of guilt. And we may be sure that it does not look to him as it does to us from the midst of respectabilities and comforts, or from a high intellectual and moral stand-point. Now I am not going to justify crime, or to indulge any sentiment upon the subject. But, really, one of the most practical questions that can be asked is--"_Why_ is this one, or that one, a criminal?" Do I say that the guilt should be imputed to the condition--that it is all owing to circumstances? No: but I _do_ say that, in nine cases out of ten, crime is no proof of _special_ depravity apart from _general_ depravity, and that the circumstances have just so much weight as this--that put you or me in those same circumstances, in nine cases out of ten, we should be criminals too. In the same circumstances, my friends; and this involves a great deal. It involves an hereditary taint stamped in the very mould of birth; it involves physical misery; it involves intellectual and moral destitution; it involves the worst kind of social influence; it involves the pressure of all the natural appetites, rioting in this need of the body and this darkness of the soul. And it implies no suspicion of a man's moral standard--it is no insult to his self-respect--to tell him that, under similar conditions, it is extremely probable he would have been a criminal too. Reasoning in an arm-chair is very proper, and often very accurate, but the logic of starvation is too peremptory for syllogisms. There is a sort of compound made up of frost, damp, dirt and rags, which works double magic: it sometimes converts a thief into a philosopher, and sometimes a philosopher into a thief. I am not speaking, however, of the mere impulse of animal want, but of this condition where the counter-acting forces are dormant. And for this reason you and I can draw no immoral conclusion from the doctrine of circumstances. We could not be like the moral leper who infests the dark regions of the city--we could not be like the child of sin and shame who broods there--without losing our identity. In contemplating this matter, the feeling for ourselves should be simply one of humility and thankfulness. We have grown up in pure light and air, appeased with the comforts, and braced by at least the current morality of society. But, concerning those degraded ones, what some call "charity" is no more than "justice." It is no more than justice to say--all the conditions being considered--that as to a vast majority of them, crime is no proof of _special_ depravity. It is the genuine humanity that is there--not base metal. It came from the common mint--somewhere you will find upon it a faint scar of the Divine Image--but the coin was pitched into this bonfire of appetite and blasphemy, and it has come out a cinder. Thus, proud and happy Mother, might _your_ boy have been a defaced and distorted being, kicked, cuffed, knotted with frost, blackened with bruises; a pick-pocket, a wharf-rat, a panel-thief; with his intellect sharpened to an intense and impish cunning--only knowing that it is a hard world, and he must get out of it what he can. Thus, fond Father, might _your_ daughter, whom the very winds must salute with courtesy, have gone through the streets at night--a painted desolation, a reeling shame. Do you think these were made of better texture than those who blacken and fester yonder? Do you think that when these last came into the world there was no milk in mothers' breasts for them, no Divine solicitude about them, no tenderness in the heart of Christ; but that they were the refuse, whirled into existence as the great wheel of Life shaped the finer mould of the respectable and the happy? I tell you that God made them complete souls, and stamped His Image upon them--but they have fallen into the dark and dreary ways; the fierce flames have hardened them; the foul air has tainted them; and their special depravity, over and above the common depravity, is the infection of circumstances. The young boy, the young girl, driven by necessity and sharpened with cunning, run into crime. They are all _educated_; for circumstances--not merely books--are education; but this is their seminary, and the alphabet is spontaneous, and the science of quick growth. And with the consequences of all this exposure and temptation we are all mixed up; and, if the claim of the child in its intrinsic position does not move us, _prudential_ considerations should--the consideration of what society does suffer, and must suffer, if these conditions are not changed. Such, then, are some of the _principles_ involved with my theme. Let us in the second place pass to consider, very briefly, a few of the _facts_. Briefly, because I have no time for details, and because the general state of the case is but too well known to you. It is a fact, then, that there are among us a vast number of children in the most miserable and perilous condition. In the year 1849, the Chief of Police reported the destitution and vice among this class of vagrants as almost "incredible." In that report he says--"The offspring of always careless, generally intemperate, and oftentimes dishonest parents, they never see the inside of a school-room, and so far as our excellent system of public education is concerned, it is to them a nullity." It appears that, at that time, in 12 wards of the city, there were 2,955 of these children, of whom two-thirds were females between the ages of 8 and 16. I am informed, also, by the Chief of Police, that 100 per cent. should now be added to this estimate; not all attributable, of course, to growth in depravity, but to the increase of population, especially by immigration. I understand, moreover, that within the past year there have been ten thousand arrests, and five thousand commitments of boys alone between the ages of 5 and 15. These are naked statistics, affording you an outline of the actual state of things. Need I paint the costume and the scenery, and describe the sad and awful drama in which these children play their parts? I could not if I would. But think of that vast amount of young life running to waste, sweeping through the sewers of the social fabric, an under-current of taint and desolation! Think of them, starved, beaten, driven into crime not merely by necessity, but by the very hands of their parents! and think of them this night, cuddling in rags, shivering on straw, cradled in reeking filth, drinking in blasphemy and obscenity and cunning policies of sin, under that dark canopy that shuts out social sympathy, and hides the very Face of God. And if you have, I will not say parental hearts, but human souls, you will ask if there ought not to be some remedy, and will say that all who can should help in administering that remedy. And _remedies_ there appear to be, my friends. For, while I said that there is no condition in the city more sad and momentous than that of these children of the poor, I said, likewise, that there is none more _hopeful_. The essential and comprehensive remedy of all I indicated in the close of the last discourse, and shall have occasion to dwell upon in the next. That remedy is the practical operation of Christianity--first of all in our own hearts, and then flowing out in action. I mean especially the _method_ of Jesus, which consisted not of mere teaching but of _help_--which touched not only the issues of the sin-sick soul, but the weakness and want of the body. To the demoniac, to the leper, to the impotent man by the pool, he brought not abstract truths, but words of healing and works of practical deliverance. How striking is the fact that the freshest and noblest charities of this nineteenth century are only developments of the manner in which the Redeemer soothed the sorrows and vanquished the evils of the world! For those institutions which especially excite the public interest at the present day, are those whose plan it is first to remove the children of the poor from those wretched and foul _conditions_ upon which I have laid so much stress, and to lead them to a higher culture by extending, first, the hand of temporal relief. They aim to break up the sockets of custom, and to introduce the degraded child to fresh motives of action and fields of endeavor; to throw around him the atmosphere of a true home, and to blend intellectual, and moral, and religious training with that true charity which teaches one how to assert his own manliness, and support himself by the honest labor of his own hands. Now I do not wish to be invidious, I am glad that such a constellation of philanthropic promise has risen upon the dark places of the abject poor. I point with pleasure to what has been accomplished in the Sahara of the Five Points, and in what still remains to be done I discern a field broad enough to prevent collision and dispute--broad enough to employ the means and the generous energies of thousands. With equal pleasure I refer to that "Juvenile Asylum," with its noble interposition ere the feet of the erring boy shall take the _second_ step in crime, and which has recently rendered still more efficient its system of labor and relief by extending the benefit to girls. But as I wish this evening to concentrate your sympathies, I call your attention especially to the institution known as "The Children's Aid Society," the general character and the practical results of which I will briefly state. Its main object is sufficiently indicated by its name. Its machinery is simple, and acts upon the principle just laid down. It seeks first to remove the poor child from the coil of evil influences which have been thrown around him, and which have been daily strengthened by the sharpest pressure of animal necessities. It comprehends the two-fold benefit of _education_ and _labor_ in its system of "Industrial Schools." Of these, at the present time, in this city, there are eight, in which a multitude of children are educated, taught to work, supplied with a warm dinner daily, and with such clothing as they can learn to make. In connection with these there is one shoe-shop, in which thirty or forty boys earn a livelihood. Another object of this society is to find employment for its beneficiaries out of the city, and during the past year places in the country have been found for one hundred and twenty-five, where their employers treat them as their own children. In institutions like these, then, you perceive the indications of a remedy for the condition of these children of the poor--a system of help which gives something more than spiritual instruction on the one hand, something more than mere food and clothing on the other; which combines measures of relief and nourishment for the demands of our whole nature in the form of the ignorant and suffering child; and which, better than all, lifts him out of the humiliating condition of a mere pauper or dependent, and sets him in a channel of manly exertion, self-development, and self-support; which not only does the negative work of removing a mass of evil from society, but makes for it the positive contribution of an improved and educated humanity. I do not say that all the relief lies here, that it will do all that is needed, or that nothing better will be devised. But I think the _tendency_ of these institutions is the right one, and that they indicate the _way_ in which this great social problem is to be solved. But it is not necessary to say that the faith which we cherish in such a system is dead without works; and that something more is needed than a few model institutions working here and there. This matter makes a practical claim upon us all, in the fact that, in one way or another, we may all help forward this method of relief--we may help it forward as active laborers in the very midst of the field, as teachers and missionaries, or contributors of our goods and money. Each knows what he can best do--what is his special, Providential _call_ in the matter; but let him be assured that he _has_ a call; and that this spectacle of exposed, needy, suffering childhood is not a mere spectacle for his sympathies, but a field white with a harvest that waits for his effort. Have we nothing but sympathies wherewith to answer the poor woman's prayer--a prayer that echoes through so many hearts in this great city--"May the Lord spare my Archy from the bad boys, and from taking to the ways of his father!" There is one thing which strikes me as very affecting in the condition of any child. It is when that condition is necessarily a melancholy one--when the circumstances which hem it around cast over the surface of that young life an abiding gloom. A melancholy child! What an anomaly among the harmonies of the universe; something as incongruous as a bird drooping in a cage, or a flower in a sepulchre. The musical laughter muffled and broken; the spontaneous smile transformed to a sad suspicion; and the austerities of mature life, the fearful speculation, and forecast of evil, fixed and frozen on a boy's face! And then the sorrow of a child is so _absorbing_--for he lives only in the present. In the afflictions which fall upon him, man has the aid of reason and faith--he looks beyond the present issue, he detects the significance of his calamity, and strengthened thus a brave heart can vanquish any sorrow. But, as Richter beautifully says--"the little cradle, or bed-canopy of the child, is easier darkened than the starry heaven of man." Surely, then, it is a blessed thing to contribute aught that will lighten this gloom, and place the child in natural conditions. But there is one phase of this subject which, in its appeal to us, is more eloquent than all the rest. It is where there are children who stand not merely in the intrinsic claim of their childhood; or in their touching sadness; or pushing their energies into vice and crime; but nobly struggling _against_ the tide of evil--struggling to bear up in their lot--enduring and achieving for the sake of those who, young as these children are, are dependent on them. If I had time, I think I could write a "Martyrology;" not following the track of famous men, whose faces look out upon us from the brutal amphitheatre and from the fire with a halo of glory around them, and whom we behold, by the vision of faith, with their gory robes transfigured to celestial whiteness, waving palms in their hands; but tracing out incidents in the lives of some of the children here in our city--not dead, but _living_ martyrs! O! I think I _could_ write such a Martyrology, with blood and tears, over many a gloomy threshold, on the walls of many a desolate room; and let future generations come and read it--a fearful record of human suffering--a sweet memorial of human virtue--when many of these old woes, we trust, shall have passed away for ever. Permit me, in closing, to present two or three incidents illustrative of this heroism and sacrifice among the Children of the Poor. Take, for instance, the account of a writer who tells us that in the street he "met a little girl, very poor, but with such a sweet sad expression," adds he, "that I involuntarily stopped and spoke to her. She answered my questions very clearly, but the heavy, sad look never left her eyes a moment. She had no father or mother. She took care of the children herself; she was only _thirteen_; she sewed on check shirts, and made a living for them." He went to see her. "It is a low, damp basement her home. She lives there with the three little children, whom she supports, and the elder sick brother, who sometimes picks up a trifle. She had been washing for herself and little ones. 'She almost thought that she could take in washing now,' and the little ones with their knees to their mouths crouched up before the stove, looked as if there could not be a doubt of sister's doing anything she tried. 'Well, Annie, how do you make a living now?' 'I sew on the check shirts, sir, and the flannel shirts; I get five cents for the checks, and nine cents for the others; but just now they wont let me have the flannel, because I can't deposit two dollars.' 'It must be very hard work?' 'O! I don't mind, sir; but to-day the visitors came, and said we'd better go to the poor-house, and I said I couldn't like to leave these little ones yet; and I thought if I only had candles, I could sit up till ten or eleven, and make the shirts.' ... She had learned everything she knew at the Industrial School.... She never went to church, for she had no clothes, but she could read and write.... 'It was very damp there,' she said, 'and then it was so cold nights.'" I will, in the next place, introduce you to a garret-room, six feet by ten. The occupants are a poor mother and her son. The mother works at making shirts with collars and stitched bosoms, at six shillings and sixpence per dozen, for a man who pays half in merchandise, and who, when she is starving for bread, puts her off with calico at a _shilling_ a yard that is not worth more than fourpence! But _he_ is not the martyr in the case. When the visitor entered, her son George, about twelve years old, "was just coming in for dinner, pale and apparently exhausted by the effort of climbing the stairs, and sank down upon a rough plank bench near the door." He worked in a glass-factory, earning a bare subsistence. "He is a little old man at twelve," says the narrator, "the paleness of his sunken cheeks was relieved by the hectic flush; his hollow dry eye was moistened by an occasional tear; and his thin white lip quivered as he told me his simple story; how he was braving hunger and death--for he cannot live long--to help his mother pay the rent and buy her bread. 'Half-past ten at night is early for him to return,' said the mother; 'sometimes it is half-past eleven and I am sitting up for him.' Sometimes, in the morning, she finds him awake, 'but he don't want to get up, and he puts his hands on his sides and says, 'Mother, it hurts me here when I breathe.' I can work, and I do work,' adds she, 'all the time--but I can't make as much as my little boy.'" One more account. It is of a beggar-girl who "lives," as the narrative goes on to say, "in a rear building where full daylight never shines--in a cellar-room where pure dry air is never breathed. A quick gentle girl of twelve years, she speaks to the visitor as he enters--'Mother does not see you, sir, because she's blind.' The mother was an old woman of sixty-five or seventy years, with six or seven others seated around. 'But you told me you and your mother and little sister lived by yourselves.' 'Yes, sir--here it is;'" and at the end of the passage the visitor discovers a narrow place, about five feet by three. The bed was rolled up in one corner, and nearly filled the room. "'But where is your stove?' 'We have none, sir. The people in the next room are very kind to mother, and let her come in there to warm--because, you know, I get half the coal.' 'But where do you cook your food?' 'We never cook any, sir; it is already cooked. I go early in the morning to get coal and chips for the fire, and I must have two baskets of coal and wood to kindle with by noon. That's mother's half. Then when the people have eaten dinner, I go round to get the bits they leave. I can get two baskets of coal every day now; but when it gets cold, and we must have a great deal, it is hard for me to find any--there's so many poor chaps to pick it. Sometimes the _ladies_ speak cross to me, and shut the door hard at me, and sometimes the _gentlemen_ slap me in the face, and kick my basket, and then I come home, and mother says not to cry, for may be I'll do better to-morrow. Sometimes I get my basket almost full, and then put it by for to-morrow; and then, if next day we have enough, I take this to a poor woman next door. Sometimes I get only a few bits in my basket for all day, and may be the next day. And then I _fast_, because, you know, mother is sick and weakly, and can't be able to fast like me.'" These my friends, are some of the "short and simple annals of the poor." But those of whom Gray spoke rest peacefully in the "country churchyard;" their spirits are in heaven, and their history is embalmed in his own immortal Elegy. But _these_ records are of those who yet live and suffer--"Martyrs _without_ the palm." And could I summon them here to-night, and would the Master but enter as when upon earth, surely he would look upon them in tender pity; would bless them; would take in his arms those whom the world has cast aside and overlooked. Nay, perhaps he would transfigure their actuality into their possibility, and we might see "the angels in their faces," pleading with us before the Father's throne! THE HELP OF RELIGION. DISCOURSE VIII. THE HELP OF RELIGION. For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come.--HEBREWS xiii, 14. There are a good many people who, apparently, are never troubled by any speculations arising out of a comprehensive view of things. They are keenly alive to all objects within their sphere; but their eyes are close to the surface, and their experience comes in shocks of sensation, and shreds of perception. They know the superficial features of the world and its conventional expressions; are conversant with its business and its pleasures; with the market, the fashions, the town-talk, the worldly fortunes of their neighbors. Sometimes, a powerful affliction startles them in this smooth routine, and for a moment they are surprised to find how wide the universe is, and among what great realities we dwell. But, usually, their existence is a narrow revolving disc, bringing around the same group of incidents and the same associations, morning, noon, and night. They comprehend Life as they comprehend the expanse of yonder harbor, dotted with shifting but familiar forms, ruffled by a passing wind or bright under a summer sun, and whose tides duly rise and fall. But they little think of the oceanic vastness which it represents; and how its oscillations come from great currents that leap out of the Antarctic, and swell around tropical islands, and sweep the lines of continents, and roll in the Polar Sea. These, therefore, are not perplexed by questions such as occur to him who, looking beyond his own worldly interests and the area of daily routine, takes into view the scope of being and the profounder phenomena of human life. For such a view will inevitably engender speculation, nor can he rest until he obtains some _theory_ of existence. These very conditions of Humanity in the City, for instance--these conditions of poverty, and responsibility, and relationship, and privilege, and strife, and toil--yea, the lessons which come to us from the crowd as it flows through these streets; constitute a great problem, of which every thinking man will seek some solution. Now, throughout this entire series of discourses--although I have not deemed it necessary in every instance to make a specific application--I have assumed that you and I were looking upon these various phases of Humanity from the Christian stand-point, and therefore I could not fitly conclude this work without indicating the Help which RELIGION affords concerning these problems of existence. I observe, then, that while it may seem very simple to affirm that a _theory_ does not, in any case, alter _facts_; yet there is often an advantage in laying down this proposition. For this leads us to understand precisely what a theory _may_ do. It does not alter facts, but it throws them into new relations, and presents them in an entirely different light. Materialism, for instance, is a theory of Life; and Christianity--in which term I include not only a system of Doctrines, but of practical forces--is also a theory of Life. Now, neither of these gets rid of the great facts of existence. Men sin and suffer and die, whether we adopt the one system or the other. But, surely, when we approach these facts from the side of Religion, they appear in very different lights, and are taken up with very different results, from their appearance and effect when interpreted by the creed of Unbelief. It would be very absurd then, because Christianity does not instantly abolish, or fully explain, all these strange and darker realities, to fall back upon the opposite ground of skepticism. This is only receding from the best solution to the worst--or, rather, to no solution at all. For I maintain that Christianity gives us not merely the best, but the _only_ solution of these problems. It will be my purpose in this discourse, at least, to show what kind of help Religion _does_ afford for Humanity in all these diverse conditions; and, having done this, I shall leave it to your own convictions to decide whether it is not a great and practical Help; and whether there _is_ any other help. I propose to illustrate the influence of Religion to this effect, first--as a _Conviction_; second, as a _Working Power_; and third, as an _Interpretation_. I say, then, in the first place, that religion furnishes great help for man in the various issues of life, when he becomes actually convinced that its truths and sanctions are _genuine_. In other words, the conception of a moral government, of a directing Providence, and of eternal realities, vividly apprehended by the intellect, kept fresh in the heart, and assimilated to the entire spiritual nature, is a personal inspiration. It elevates the platform of a man's being, so that all things appear in true proportion. It clears his vision to detect principles, and endows him with moral courage. I do not know that I can better suggest its influence as a help here, in the conditions of the city, than by asking you to imagine what _would_ be the state of things in the spheres of toil and traffic--in all the multiform relations of our humanity--if men really apprehended and believed it? _It_, I say--not some special dogma or institution, but the absolute spirit and truth of Christianity. For I do not think that, generally, this _is_ actually credited. I think that, with many professions of religion, and much outward respect for it, and an extensive circulation of vague conceptions about it, it is _not_ commonly felt and vitalized--it is not apprehended in its blessedness and power, and absolute excellence. To the habits of the soul it does not represent and mean realities as a written contract does, or a bank-bill--something that men precipitate themselves upon, and that sways the under-currents of their action. New York, with its Broadway and its Wall Street; with its proud buildings and its bristling masts; is a reality--but that city of which the text makes mention; that city which good men seek, and which in the Apocalypse of Faith they see; whose splendors glitter through the solemn twilight; nay, which hems them around for ever, and shines down upon them brighter than the noonday sun; to thousands, toiling, sinning, and suffering here, is _not_ a reality. For, I ask you, my friends, if it _were_ realized, could there be so much abject need among us; so much stony-hearted selfishness; so much shuffling in trade, and corruption in politics, and meanness in intercourse, and foolish superficial living? I know, and you know, that one of the greatest evils is--not merely that men are worldly, irreligious, bound up in sad conditions and narrow conceits; but that they are so, because they do not apprehend the nature and do not feel the reality of religion. For I say once more, that a conviction of its reality must be a great help in adjusting the problems of life. And this, because it acts upon the centre of all the sin, and much of the suffering of the world. This personal application of religion stands before all other remedies for the removal of these evils. Others are attempted--others are, in a degree, successful; but none go so deep and produce results so sure. It seems to me that the position of humanity in this respect, is illustrated in the narrative of the Demoniac of Gadara. We are told that he had been bound with chains, but in his fierce madness had burst them asunder. And then, again, men had tried various expedients, but they could not tame him. But when the influence of Jesus fell upon his soul, it took hold of it with sweet authority; the legion left him, and the poor, wounded, houseless man sat clothed and in his right mind. So is it with man in society; so is it with some of these social evils. The power of _law_ has been invoked; and it has its legitimate sphere of operation. It checks the purposed violence. It arrests the overt act. It may consistently be summoned to purify all those channels of social action which it assumes to regulate; and, instead of patronizing the wrong, to set its face and hand against it. Thus it may prevent public harm, though it cannot stop self-injury, and remove occasions of temptation, though it cannot impart moral strength. It has no efficacy to change the assassin's heart, yet we call upon it to guard us against murder. We bid it close the den of infamy, though it does not quench guilty passion. And we may use it to stop the sale of intoxicating drinks, though it does not destroy the drunkard's appetite. And this indicates both the function and the limitation of the law. Thrown over the wild forces that rage in the human heart, and that afflict community, it is like the fetters on the limbs of the demoniac. It may restrain for a time; but in some sweep of temptation it is spurned and snapped asunder. On the other hand, we have the expedients of the _reformer_. He comes with props and palliatives; soothing some cutaneous irritation, or removing some foul condition. And let us recognize the legitimacy of _his_ endeavor. We must approach the human heart through the web of its external circumstances, as well as directly. Nay, often this is the only way by which we can get at it at all. And well may we rejoice over the rescue from specific vices, and commend the zeal and patience which fasten upon some colossal evil to batter and drive it from the world. But notwithstanding such noble achievement, how many have remained among the tombs, or gone back to the wilderness--demoniacs still! It is an old truth, but I say it as though it were in the conviction of a fresh fact forced upon me by these great problems that heave up in the currents of City Life; it is an unavoidable conclusion that there is only one influence that can make safe, and pure, and strong in goodness, those recesses out of which issue so much social evil, and so much personal suffering. And that is the influence not of the law-giver, nor of the reformer; but of the Redeemer. It is that power which flows through the soul in a practical conviction of the reality of religion. It is the help which comes from its inspiration of divine truth and goodness in the breasts of individual men, turning them from evil, rendering them strong against temptation, and sending out from their lives fresh forces of righteousness and love. Indeed, I believe that any man who really thinks and feels, and who has much experience of Life, will become convinced of the _necessity_ of Religion. I would leave its claims not to the argument of the Moralist, or the advocacy of the Pulpit, but as they urge themselves upon us here out of the whirl, and weariness, and vicissitudes of the City. Surely, as its calm voice appeals to the sons of men, striving in this heated atmosphere; chasing phantoms that rise out of the dust; absorbed in the fickle game of fortune; borne along for a little while on the top-waves of excitement, and then dying unmarked as a rain-drop that falls into the sea; surely as its voice appeals to these, saying--"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest!" it strikes the deepest chords in thousands of hearts. I will not adopt now any professional argument to prove the great necessity of Religion as a Help in Life. But I would take my stand, in imagination, at some corner of yonder tumultuous street. How multiform the crowds that sweep by me; how diverse the faces; what a kaleidoscope of human conditions! And yet, when you attempt to classify them, how few are the actual _types_ of men--how many fall into a common group; and when you try them by the profoundest standard--that of a common experience and common wants--how marvellously alike they all are! How similar in inward expression, the rich man who walks yonder, to that poor drudging son of toil, who bows his back and strains his sinews until they ache! How similar in effect the burdens which they both bear--the burden of wealth, and the burden of poverty, in the fact that they _are_ burdens upon the heart and the soul! And are they not both struggling with the realities of life, and moved by quenchless desires, and looking up into the same infinite mystery? Ah! my friends, I hardly think it would be the most effectual way to preach Religion in this church on Sunday, as a matter of course--but to stand out there on week-days, and strike the deepest chords throbbing unconsciously in the bosoms of those who pass me by. I would appeal to you, O disappointed, almost heart-broken man, who for years have endeavored to earn a competency to lift your head above the sheer necessities of life, but have failed in the chase, and been beaten back, and seen others who have exerted themselves not near as much, not so honorably, perhaps, rise to the very top of the stream and sail clear ahead;--or to you, O "favorite of fortune," as the world calls you, who find your palace to be only a stately sepulchre, in which all genuine feeling and simple enjoyment lies dead and wrapped in cerements of chilling etiquette--whose daughter, perhaps, has mocked your fondest plans; or whose son has turned out a miserable weed of dissipation--a degenerate fopling, a rake, a fool;--or to you, O butterfly of fashion, sailing with embroidered wings in search of admiration and of pleasure; or still again, to you who have just gathered together the means of enjoyment, and ease, and everything, to make life pleasant, and lo! death has entered, and your hopes are darkened and in the dust; I appeal to you, O types of this streaming humanity, that wears so many masks, yet, carries under all a common heart; and ask you, if there is not some void that no earthly good can fill--that no finite thing can sustain and satisfy? Can you go on with the common business of the world, discharge all its obligations, control yourself in its excitements, resist its evil solicitations, bear up under its trials, and, finally, reach that period in life when you must ask--"What is all this worth?--these years of toil, these eager enterprises, this golden accumulation or unfortunate failure--what are they all worth, and what do they mean?"--can anybody well get along with all this, without Religion? My friends, I say to you that, not consciously, perhaps, like the old saints who wrought and prayed and walked with upward-looking faces--but really, in the deep yearning and the secret gravitation of the soul--you _do_ confess that here we have no continuing city, and you are seeking one to come. At least, it seems to me that without the Help of Religion, there is only the alternative of moral indifference--a cold, hard worldliness, or of recklessness and spiritual despair. And is not this the alternative which is exhibited in the midst of all our civilization--in the midst of this gorgeous materialism of the nineteenth century? Thousands, it is to be apprehended, do exhibit one or the other of those extremes which the poet has so well described: "For most men in a brazen prison live, Where, in the sun's hot eye, With heads bent o'er their toil, they languidly Their minds to some unmeaning task-work give, Dreaming of naught beyond their prison wall; And so, year after year, Fresh products of their barren labor fall From their tired hands, and rest Never yet comes more near. Gloom settles slowly down over their breast, And while they try to stem The waves of mournful thought by which they are prest, Death in their prison reaches them Unfreed, having seen nothing, still unblest. "And the rest, a few, Escape their prison, and depart On the wide ocean of life anew. There the freed prisoner, where'er his heart Listeth, will sail; Nor does he know how there prevail Despotic on life's sea, Trade-winds that cross it from eternity. Awhile he holds some false way, undebarred By thwarting signs, and braves The freshening wind, and blackening waves, And then the tempest strikes him, and between The lightning bursts is seen Only a driving wreck, And the pale master on his spar-strewn deck With anguished face and flying hair, Grasping the rudder hard, Still bent to make some port he knows not where, Still standing for some false impossible shore, And sterner comes the roar Of sea and wind, and through the deepening gloom, Fainter and fainter wreck and helmsman loom." But, before I quit this head of my discourse, let me say that in order to be accepted as the great Help of Life, Religion must in some way be _presented_ as a reality. It must not be held forth as a mere abstraction--it must be precipitated into its concrete relations. Parting with none of its sanctity, it must be stripped of its vagueness and technicality, and be spoken in the fresh language of the time. I feel sure that amidst prevalent irreligion, nothing is so much needed as a definite statement of _what_ religion is; and that men should learn to recognize its vascular connection with every department of action. It must be understood that "being religious" is not a work apart by itself, but a spirit of faith and righteousness, flowing out from the centre of a regenerated heart into all the employments and intercourse of the world. Not merely the preacher in the pulpit, and the saint on his knees, may do the work of religion, but the mechanic who smites with the hammer and drives the wheel; the artist seeking to realize his pure ideal of the beautiful; the mother in the gentle offices of home; the statesman in the forlorn hope of liberty and justice; and the philosopher whose thought treads reverently among the splendid mysteries of the universe. I know that some will deem this a secularization of religion--a desecration of its holy essence by worldly alliances. But they are mistaken. It is a _consecration_ of pursuits and spheres that have been cut off from all sacredness, and devoted to secondary ends. Are not the just, the useful, the beautiful, from God, as well as the good and the holy? And, therefore, is not any practice which serves these, a service of God? It is needed that men should feel that every lawful pursuit _is_ sacred and not profane; that every position in life is close to the steps of the divine throne; and that the most beaten and familiar paths lie under the awful shadow of the Infinite; then they will go about their daily pursuits, and fill their common relationships, with hearts of worship and pulses of unselfish love; instead of regarding religion as an isolated peculiarity for a corner of the closet and a fraction of the week, and leaving all the rest of time and space an unconsecrated waste, where lawless passions travel, and selfishness pitches its tents. O! if religion _were_ thus a diffusive, practical, every-day reality, there would be a marvellous change in the aspects of life and the conditions of humanity around us. The great city, now so gross and profane, would become as a vast cathedral, through whose stony aisles would flow perpetual service; where labor would discharge its daily offices, and faith and patience keep their heavenward look, and love present its offerings. Yea, the very roll of wheels through its busy streets would be as a litany, and the sound of homeward feet the chant of its evening psalm. But religion is not only a help in and for ourselves; it has a ministration for others--for this great mass of destitution and suffering that broods in the midst of the city. Christianity is not merely a theory of existence--it is a _working-power_. Its precepts are practical, and enjoin not merely states of mind and heart, but conditions of activity. There is an entire magazine of working-forces in that one great law--"Love thy neighbor as thyself." Hear the words of an apostolical commentator upon it. "If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food," says he, "and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit? Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone." And wherever Christianity has existed and been apprehended, it has produced beneficent results for humanity. It has gone over the earth like its Divine Author, with healing and with help for the woes of the race. Anybody who takes his stand at the head-waters of modern history, will see that a mighty energy was then poured into the world, whose influence is evident in the truest civilization, in the best results, of ages. In estimating the practical power of Christianity, we must look at the _positive_ phase of things--we must consider what has actually been done; not merely what remains to be done. We must adopt proportionate standards, not the little measures of to-day and yesterday, in which the tides of human melioration may oscillate, and even seem to flow backward and at the best to make slight headway. But take up the cycle of history that preceded the advent of Christianity, and compare it with the present period; and is there not an entirely different expression on the face of things, so far as conceptions of humanity and influences of philanthropy are concerned? Contrast "a Roman holiday," its butchery and its blood, with a modern anniversary that clasps the round world in its jubilee, and see if humanity has not been helped by religion. Or look back upon Grecian art and refinement, and tell me what oration or poem, or pantheon of marble beauty, is half as glorious as the plain brick free-school; the asylum of industry; the home for the penitent, the disabled and the poor? Ah! my friends, these are such familiar things that we may not think them the great things they really are; and in gazing upon the colossal evils that yet tower up before us, they may seem slight achievements. But they _are_ great: and when I see the poor drunkard return to a renovated home--the demoniac sitting clothed and in his right mind once more; when I see the dumb write, and hear the blind read, and little rescued children sing their thankful hymns; I think humanity _has_ been helped a great deal since that Divine Teacher walked the earth, and took the lambs to his bosom, and made the foul leper clean, and partook with publicans and sinners, and bade the guilty go and sin no more. I think that currents of love and self-sacrifice, from that heart that was pierced for us upon the cross, have found their way through the channels of ages, through all the impediments of worldliness and selfishness, and inspired and blessed men far more than they know. But if, turning from the positive achievement, you point to the evils that still exist--if you lift the coverings of respectability and custom from the ghastly facts that are embedded here in our so-called civilization; if you bid me mark the vice, the poverty, the crime, the oppression, the grinding monopoly, the prejudice, the gigantic materialism and practical atheism that are mixed up with it, and seem to be inseparable parts of it; then I ask you--how would it be _without_ the Help of Religion? What interpretation should we obtain from the dark creed of the skeptic, what inspiration from the philosophy of annihilation, and of fate? To say nothing of those forces of Love and self-sacrifice which it sheds abroad in the world, and to which I have just alluded,--Religion, in one single proposition, sends pregnant elements of direction and relief into the midst of these giant evils. That one proposition is the immortality of man--the priceless spirituality of every man--the ascription of a nature more glorious and imperishable than a star. Here is the spring of its perpetual antagonism to the world, and to the evil of the world. The latter bases its estimate of man upon outward conditions; estimates his name and his title, his equipage and his parentage, the bulk of his gold, the color of his skin, his _apparent_ success or defeat. Christianity points to that vivid centre of a soul, in whose light all these external distinctions fade, are fused into dross, become comparatively naught. All the evil of the world stands upon the assumption of the former rule--upon the ground of external and material valuation--which, as has been well observed by another, is a "method of studying the problems of the universe by fetching rules from the _wider_ sphere (therefore the _lower_) to import into the _higher_.... So long as this logical strategy is allowed, the Titans will always conquer the gods; the ground-forces of the lowest nature will propagate themselves, pulse after pulse, from the abysses to the skies, and _right_ will exist only on sufferance from _might_." On the other hand, I say, Religion, Christianity, starts from the centre outward--starts with the dignity and sanctity of the human soul--and in this is the great element of all progress and reform. Out of this have sprung the achievements of modern freedom. Assuming this inward birthright of every man, men have snapped feudal fetters, and broken the seals of ancient proscription, and torn up branching genealogies, and trodden diadems in the dust. It was this fact that inspired Sidney's speech, and Hampden's effort, and Washington's calm determination. It is this that erects itself against majorities, policies, institutions, charters, and will not be beaten down, and will agitate, and will triumph. It is this that sends philanthropy upon its mission; and bids it stoop to the most fallen, and search under the darkest depravity. "Go abroad," it says, "amidst the guilt and misery of the great city. In the rags, the filth, the abomination, there are jewels fallen from heaven. There are souls upon which angels look with solicitude. There are interests for which Christ died. Search patiently, and deeply, and never give up the endeavor to find, to lift up, to restore." Is not all the spring of benevolent effort, then, in this single proposition of Religion? This one great Truth it utters amidst the suffering and injustice of the world--that men are heirs of one inheritance; possessors of a birthright by virtue of which all outward inequalities fade away. It bases a demand for mutual help and love, upon the fact that we are all on a pilgrimage--high, low, honored, degraded, master, slave, we go forth together, and these earthly distinctions all drop away. Rich man with rows of real-estate, with money safe in bank, with solid securities walled around you--you will carry no more away than Lazarus yonder--in God's eyes you are no richer than he. Because here we have no continuing city. The destinies of our common humanity flow forward into another and more enduring one. And, if still this problem of human degradation and suffering presses upon us, I say further, that where the constituents of this problem are most prominent, there religion is the most active. The heaviest poverty is belted about by the brightest charities; the hot-beds of crime generate the most radical efforts for its prevention and its cure; and while oppression is at work, setting its dark types upon virgin soil to print off its own shame and condemnation, indignant voices expose it and indignant hearts react against it. And more and more, every day, it is felt and proclaimed that religion is a working-principle--a practical power. Never was it more profoundly felt than in this very age that men must be confessors of Christianity as well as professors. And in the light of this conception, proffering fresh and willing help, Religion walks abroad; and lo! waste places grow verdant, and the strongholds of guilt and misery sink down, and blessed institutions rise up, and industry takes the place of crime, and cursings are exchanged for songs, and the poorest sees the immortal light, and is lifted up by the grand thought--that "here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come." We have thus seen that Religion is a Help as to the fact of sin, when men are convinced of it as a great reality; and a help as to the fact of human suffering, because it is a working-power. But, over and above all this, there are problems that perplex us, and demand some answer; problems as to the How, and the Wherefore, and the End. There are times when our thoughts rise above all specific instances, and we take up humanity and existence as a whole, and ask--"What means it all?" Sometimes this question starts out of an individual experience. The shock of affliction has jarred our hearts; our expectations have come to naught; bereavement has broken up the routine of our life; or our own souls have surprised us with sudden revelations. At any rate, we find our being here involved with mystery. There is something that our understanding cannot entirely grasp; something that our unassisted eyes cannot see. And the only help for us in such a case is the Help of Religion, presenting us, through faith, with an _interpretation_ of human life--an interpretation which tells us that what we now experience and behold is only transitional, preliminary, and that we see through a glass darkly, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be. And is it necessary for me to dwell upon the strength which has thus been imparted to sad and wounded spirits, when with perfect trust in Infinite Goodness they have thus realized that they stand only on one round of an upward course--only in a little segment of the immense plan? I will merely say now, that if, through faith, religion is a help to these by interpreting life in harmony with individual experience, so through this faith does it help the meditative man troubled by the general problem of existence and humanity. The meaning of these various conditions in the city--the meaning of these sins, and sorrows, and inequalities--the meaning of this tide of life itself that rolls in endless succession through these stony arteries--does it perplex you? Accept, then, the help which religion gives by interpreting it as only preliminary and transitional; only a portion of a wider scheme. We commenced this series of discourses by standing, as it were, in the street, on a level with all these phases of humanity. Ascend now some lofty post of observation; some high watch-tower. The mottled tide flows and dashes far below you. The sounds of strife and endeavor rise faintly to your ears, and are drowned in the upper air. So in the altitude and comprehensiveness of faith, all this that seemed so huge and startling dwindles to a little stream in the great ocean of existence, and all these tumults are swallowed up in the currents of silent but beneficent design. But, in the meantime, the daylight has gone, the night-shadow has fallen, this stream of human life has ebbed away, and all these sounds are still. See, now, how much of your perplexity came from a deceit of eye-sight--see how the light of this world blinded you to the immensity and the meaning of existence! See! over your head spreads the great firmament. There are Sirius, and Orion, and the glittering Pleiades. How harmoniously they are related; how calmly they roll! And now, O man! fresh from the reeking dust, and the cry of pained hearts, and the shadows of the grave, do not the scales of unbelief drop from your eyes, when you see the width of God's universe, and feel that His purpose girdles this little planet and steers its freight of souls? You were deceived by your standards of greatness and duration. You thought that this material city, with what it contains, was everything. But _they_ have cherished the true view, who in the spirit of the text have interpreted these Conditions of Humanity--the conditions of those who seek and sin and suffer in the busy crowd; of those who rest beneath yonder gleaming tomb-stones. And, as we read what all wise and good men have virtually said, our mortal term contracts, our immortal career opens, our years seem as ticks of a clock, and the entire sum of our life but a minute-mark on the dial of eternity; and this huge metropolis becomes a dim veil, a perishable symbol of real and enduring things. THE END. * * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings. Obvious typographical errors in punctuation (misplaced quotes and the like) have been fixed. Corrections [in brackets] in the text are noted below: page 27: quote typo corrected But, say you, '["]here is one who is returning to a home of destitution, of misery; where the page 39: typo corrected between those great agents of human achievment[achievement] and the living intelligence page 41: typo corrected years. Remarkable for brilliant achievments[achievements] in every department of physics, ours well deserves page 45: hyphen removed the old world without a telegraph, and Columbus found a new one without a steam[-]ship. page 49: typo corrected open air and the sovreignty[sovereignty] of the soil. And if this immense intrusion of machinery has page 58: duplicate word removed stream, and chained the fire; and now, [with] with the eye of science and the hand of skill, page 84: typo corrected dignity is there in that man who justs[just] accepts his station and makes the most of page 154: removed quote celestial City be these well-known doors--and thus may we also _die_ at Home!["] page 173: typo corrected heaven, whose inhabitants would not make harmlesness[harmlessness] their chief characteristic. Their page 195: typo corrected and, perpetually descending from the threshold of the Infinite, keeps open an arch-way of mysstery[mystery] and heaven. page 201: typo corrected dangerous reasoning, my friends; neverthless[nevertheless], it _is_ reasoning, and shows that the mind of the page 240: typo corrected of life and the conditions of humanity arouud[around] us. The great city, now so gross and profane, 
17122	----	TWENTY-FOUR SHORT SERMONS ON THE DOCTRINE OF UNIVERSAL SALVATION By John Bovee Dods Pastor of the First Universalist Society, in Taunton, Massachusetts. Boston: Printed By G. W. Bazin....Trumpet Office 1832. ******************************************************************** SERMON I "What man is he that desireth life, and loveth many days that he may see good? Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile; depart from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it." Psalm xxxiv:12-14. Self-preservation and the desire of protracting the momentary span of life is the first principle of our nature, or is at least so intimately interwoven with our constitution as to appear inherent. So powerful is this desire, that in defiance of pain and misery, it seldom quits us to the last moments of our existence. To endeavor to lengthen out our lives is not only desirable, but is a duty enjoined upon us in the scriptures, and is most beautifully and forcibly expressed in our text. We might here introduce many observations of a philosophical character on _air_ and _climate, meat_ and _drink, motion_ and _rest, sleeping_ and _watching, &c._ and show how sensibly they contribute to health; and we might furnish many examples of long life, but we pass these, and proceed to notice the affections of the mind upon which our text is grounded. The due regulation of the passions contributes more to health and longevity than climate, or even the observance of any course of diet. Our Creator has so constituted our natures, that _duty, health, happiness_ and _longevity_ are inseparably blended in the same cup. To suppress, and finally subdue all the passions of malice, anger, envy, jealousy, hatred and revenge, and to exercise (till they become familiar) all the noble passions of tenderness, compassion, love, hope and joy, is a duty that heaven solemnly enjoins upon us, and in the performance of which our years will be multiplied. But we must guard not only our moral natures from the ravages of the corroding and revengeful passions, but also our physical natures by observing the strictest rules of temperance in _eating, drinking, cleanliness_ and _exercise_. The book of God commands us to "be temperate in all things." The observance of this duty gives us a firm constitution, robust health, and prepares us to participate in all the innocent and rational enjoyments of life. Here we may witness the goodness of the Divine Being in uniting our duty, happiness and interest in one; and so firmly are they wedded together, and so absolutely does each depend upon the other that they cannot exist alone. They are alike laid in ruins the moment they are separated. If we trace this idea still further, we witness the same wise arrangement, and the same incomprehensible skill and goodness of the Author of our being in the constitution of our mental natures. In these also he has wholly united our duty, happiness and longevity in one. Jesus says, "Love your enemies; bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you, and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father in heaven." Paul says--"Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice, and be ye kind one to another, tender hearted, forgiving one another even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you." Here then is our duty plainly pointed out. If we will exercise this spirit of benignity to our enemies, subdue all our revengeful passions, and indulge a spirit of love and friendship, of meekness and cheerfulness towards our friends and neighbors, we shall not only be happy as our natures can bear, not only revel in all the rational enjoyments this life can impart, but we shall in the common course of providence live to old age. All those, with very few exceptions, who have lived to 80, 90, and 100 years, have been remarked for their equanimity. They were mild spirited, kind, cheerful, and of such a temperament, that neither misfortune, nor any outward circumstances, that agitated the world, could disturb their heaven-born repose. Thus we see that the path of duty, enjoined in the sacred scriptures, is not only the path of peace and joy, but conducts to a good old age. The goodness of the Divine Being is most strikingly exemplified in uniting health and temperance, happiness and longevity, and our duty to our fellow creatures, all in one. Long life and good days, however, depend more upon the state of our minds than upon almost any other circumstance. He who lives in fear and trouble arising from any cause whatever; whether from contemplation of endless misery in the future world, or from the apprehension that his earthly prospects will be blasted and his fortune laid in ruins--or if he is continually involved in quarrels, broils and tumults with his neighbors, has but little prospect of living to old age, and certainly no hope of seeing good days. He is in a constant hell. Here then we see the beauty and propriety of our text: "What man is he that desireth life and loveth many days that he may see good? Keep thy tongue from evil and thy lips from speaking guile; depart from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it." The first _condition_ for a long life is, "keep thy tongue from evil and thy lips from speaking guile." But the question arises, in what sense can the violation of that _condition_ have any effect upon the length of life? The answer is at hand--the slanderer is ever a busy body in other men's matters. He is secretly endeavoring to injure his neighbors. He circulates falsehoods about them from house to house. One and another hears the reports put into circulation. They call upon the author for an explanation of his conduct. Involved in trouble, arising from fear, guilt and mortification, he tells a thousand falsehoods to clear up one. All this preys upon his inmost vitals, while perhaps with another, whom he has slandered, he is involved in a quarrel, and it terminates in a settled hatred; and a third case becomes an incurable distemper of rancour and revenge. Here is a man who by slander has rendered his existence wretched. He is like the troubled ocean whose waters find no rest. There is but little hope of his reaching the common age of man. Instead of seeing good days he is walking in the regions of night and wo. Says the wise man, "where there is no fuel the fire goeth out, so where there is no tattler, strife ceaseth." Yes, "where there is envying and strife, there is confusion and every evil work." Violent anger excites powerfully the caloric in the human system, boils the blood, and in this state throws it suddenly upon the brain. The powerful shock propels it instantly to the exterior surface, and torrent-like contracts it back again in redoubled fury upon the brain, and leaves the countenance pale and ghastly. It deranges in a great measure the mind, and unfits it for useful action. It darts its electric fire of vengeance along the optic nerve, expands the retina, and gives to every object a magnified and false appearance, while the very eye-balls by a wild and savage glare proclaim the dreadful storm that is raging within, and pouring the poisonous streams of premature death through all the healthful channels of existence! It suddenly braces the nervous system, and then on the opposite extreme leaves it depressed and weakened. It gradually brings on rheumatic complaints, and lays the whole system open to the most formidable and painful disorders that afflict the human race. It cannot have escaped medical observation that fevers and consumptions are much more frequent among persons who are very irritable and exercise little or no rule over their passions, than among those who are of a mild temperament, either naturally, or from early restraint and education. There is a connexion between the mind and the body so subtle that it has hitherto eluded the eagle-eye of Physiology, and will perhaps remain inscrutible forever to human comprehension. But that this connexion exists is fully demonstrated by medical experience, and observation. Many bodily disorders derange the mind, and have in many instances totally destroyed it. So on the other hand diseases of the mind effect the body in return, and _grief, despair_ and _melancholy_ have so preyed upon the vitals as to emaciate the body, and bring it to the grave. It is not uncommon that consumptions are brought on by _trouble_ of mind, by _guilt_, and by _melancholy_ and _grief_. And many instances have occurred, where persons in excessive violent anger have dropped down dead. What is so dreadful, when carried to extreme, must be very injurious to health, and long life, when indulged frequently and even moderately. There being then such an intimate connexion between the mind and body, and so many thousands of ways in which one alternately acts upon, and effects the other, and brings millions to an untimely grave, we see at once the propriety of not only guarding our health by temperance in eating and drinking, but more particularly by avoiding troubles of a mental character. These are generally brought upon individuals, families and neighborhoods, by the bad use of the tongue. Would you live long that you may see good days? Then keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile, seek peace and pursue it. Avoid every species of iniquity that would have a tendency to blast your own or the peace of others. Avoid it as you would the poisonous exhalations of the Bohon Upas, and fly it as you would the dreadful Samiel of the Arabian desert. SERMON II "What man is he that desireth life and loveth many days that he may see good? Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile; depart from evil and do good, seek peace and pursue it." Psalm xxxiv:12-14. We have shown in our last number that the truth of this text is based upon philosophy, and verified by experience and observation: that nothing is more destructive to health and longevity than to indulge in the revengeful passions of our nature; and that constant fear, grief and melancholy are also destructive to the human constitution, and withering to the dearest joys of life. We have shown that violent anger, revenge and most of the malignant passions originate from the bad use of the tongue; and that if we would live long and see good, we must give heed to our ways by following the injunctions of the text. We now propose a further discussion of this subject, addressed particularly to the young. A single spark of fire has often wrapped a city in conflagration. Great effects not unfrequently flow from small causes. The apostle James says, see chap. iii--"Behold also the ships, which though they be so great, and are driven of fierce winds, yet they are turned about with a very small helm whithersoever the governor listeth. Even so the tongue is a little member and boasteth great things. Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth! And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity; so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature, and is set on fire of hell. For every kind of beasts and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea is tamed, and hath been tamed of mankind. But the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly member full of deadly poison." The apostle, in the above quotation, has reference to those who have so long indulged in evil speaking that it has become, as it were, an incurable habit. If any man makes a practice of slandering his neighbors, and disturbing the peace of the community, it is immaterial to what church he may belong, or what os-tentatious professions he may make, he is, notwithstanding all this, destitute of christianity. It is a painful fact that the religion of the present day is too much accommodated to the fashions and customs of the world. Let a man, for instance, use profane language, or get intoxicated, and he will readily be suspended from the communion of the church. But let him slander his neighbors, and little or no notice is taken of his conduct. And let him slander other denominations; and it becomes, as it were, a virtue; whereas the fact is that the latter, according to the book of God, is much the greatest crime. It is therefore wise to lay, in early youth, a foundation for a tranquil, virtuous and long life. Thus you see my young friends that virtue and happiness, temperance, prosperity and longevity are inseparably connected by the Author of our being, who has made them to depend in a great measure upon our conduct. You have also seen that sin and misery, intemperance in body, and also intemperance in mind, such as evil speaking, violent anger, commotions, griefs and troubles, and a premature grave, are likewise inseparably and wisely connected. And now, my young friends, which will you choose? If you love life and desire to see many days, let me exhort you to choose the _former_, and to drink freely out of that golden cup in which every earthly joy of unbroken felicity is mingled by the unerring hand of divine mercy; and let me warn you to reject the _latter_, for in it are mingled the bitter drugs of misery. Be temperate in eating and drinking. Be temperate in all your pursuits in life, and in all your desires. Be temperate in your conduct; and (as an able writer observes) pitch upon that course of life which is the most excellent, and habit will soon render it the most delightful. Avoid not only every word and action that may lead to discord and contention, but, as our text says, depart from evil and _do good_, seek peace, and pursue it. Let us do good to all our fellow creatures, and endeavor to overcome their hatred with love, and their evil with good. Yes, my young friends, affectionately and solemnly would I urge you to begin early to curb your passions, and to study sweetness of disposition. It will soon become to you perfectly natural, and thus you will lay the foundation for a virtuous and tranquil old age. But, asks the youth, shall I live longer for subduing my passions and doing good, for seeking peace and pursuing it? Certainly. Our text teaches this; so does philosophy, and the scriptures generally. Jesus Christ says, "Blessed are the _meek_, for they shall inherit the earth." That is, they shall long enjoy it. "Blessed are the peace-makers for they shall be called the children of God." The fifth Commandment says, "Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." By honoring our parents, we are to understand a filial and submissive obedience to their precepts by not departing from that way in which with many exhortations, prayers and tears, they sought to train us up. In this case, honoring them would of course require us to walk in the paths of virtue and temperance, and to live an honest, quiet and peaceable life which would ensure the promise, and give us many days. Not only do the scriptures promise long life to the peaceable, temperate and meek, but they on the other hand just as solemnly declare that "the wicked shall not live out half their days." This passage has occasioned much dispute among religious denominations; one affirming that every man's time is appointed in the counsels of heaven by the decree of God, who "declares the end from the beginning;" and another affirming that _it is not_, for the above passage teaches that the life of man may be shortened. But there is no occasion for dispute on this point, for they are both right, as we have seen in the course of our remarks. This passage is but the counterpart of our text. It is the decree of God that the wicked, the abandoned shall not reach the extreme of human life, because they indulge in those very crimes, which, in the constitution of things, must inevitably carry them to an early tomb. Of the truth of this we see thousands of instances in the world. And God has decreed that the meek, the peaceable shall reach the extreme of life, because they pitch upon that happy course of conduct which naturally leads to it. All that we are to understand by his _decree_, is that he has inseparably connected the _end_ with the _means_ by so constituting our natures, and so ordering his providence that _sin, dissipation, anger,_ and _revenge_ shall not only destroy happiness, but shorten life, so certain as men pursue such a wretched course. And that the opposite course of conduct shall not only communicate happiness, but protract life so certain as they engage in it. Here then, my young friends, you may readily perceive how God punishes vice and rewards virtue. He does not do it by any abstract law, or arbitrary mode of procedure, but lie has in infinite wisdom interwoven, the whole in the very constitution of our natures, so that the wicked cannot go unpunished, nor the righteous unrewarded. To teach that man can indulge in vice, and yet escape its punishment by future repentance, is not only dangerous to the morals of society, but is a direct impeachment of the divine administration, as it must in such case, be defective. And to teach that men may live righteously and godly and yet go unrewarded, is equally dangerous to the morals of the community, as it is but discouraging them from engaging in a virtuous course of conduct. To teach that men are to be rewarded in a future world for their _goodness_ here, is but in substance saying that virtue is attended with mental misery, and so far as it fails of rewarding its possessor _here_, the balance is to be made up _hereafter_. And to teach that men are to be punished in a future state for their _badness_ here, is but in substance saying, that vice is attended with some mental joys, and so far as it fails of punishing its possessor _here_, the balance is to be made up _hereafter_. It is readily granted that the righteous may suffer. But we ought ever to make a plain distinction between afflictions and punishments, for the Bible does this. It is impossible in the nature of things that punishment can exist except in connexion with guilt. Paul and Silas were cast into prison and fastened in the stocks, on account of their religion. But nothing could disturb their mental peace--their heaven-born repose. They joyfully sung psalms, and lifted up their voices in prayer to God in the calm enjoyment of a pure unsullied conscience. They suffered afflictions that were, under the government of God, to work out for their good. There were no doubt others in that prison justly suffering for their crimes. To them it was punishment. Because the _former_ were suffering _affliction_, the _latter, punishment_. The scriptures say, "Great peace have they that love thy law; and nothing shall offend them." "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked;" and he who says there _is_, contradicts Jehovah. If you would, my young friends, avoid punishment, avoid sin. If you would be happy, and enjoy a long and tranquil life, follow carefully the directions of our text; for rest assured that a contrary course of conduct will not only involve you in misery and wretchedness, but bring you to a premature grave. Let us then take warning, and not become our own executioners. Let us make the most of life we may, and not turn our present existence, which is one of heaven's choicest blessings, into a curse. Let us do good in our day and generation, and render ourselves blessings to mankind, by living soberly, righteously and peaceably in the world? Let us do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God--visit the widow and the fatherless in their affliction, and keep ourselves unspotted from the world. SERMON III "And they shall drive thee from men, and thy dwelling shall be with the beasts of the field, and they shall make thee to eat grass as oxen, and seven times shall pass over thee until thou know that the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of, men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will." Daniel iv:32. That reason, as well as revelation, teaches an overruling providence, very few deny. There must exist in nature an omnipotent and benevolent Being to keep all her works in harmony--to touch the most secret and subtle springs of the vast machinery of the universe--to regulate seed time and harvest, summer and winter, day and night; and to throw the enrapturing charms of countless variety not only over the landscape, but over all that we behold in the heavens above, or in the earth beneath. Globes roll in the paths assigned them, and by some unseen hand are wisely kept from interfering in their orbits, and disturbing each other's motions. These facts demonstrate the existence of an omniscient, omnipotent, and Benevolent Being; and every event, transpiring in the government of the world, proclaims an omnipresent Jehovah. He not only works in the majesty of the lightning, and in the grandeur of the storm regulating and directing the whole in its sublime career, but he notices the fall of a sparrow, and numbers the very hairs of our head. Events, the most trivial in their nature, are the objects of his notice, as well as those of the most momentous character. Were not this the case, universal disorder and ruin would soon find their way into his works, break the chain of events, and reduce all, that we now admire, from its present harmony and glory, down to its general confusion and chaos. This conclusion is unavoidable, because some of the greatest events that have transpired in the world, owe their existence to something of a very trivial nature. If God did not, in the general government of the world, direct also _small events_, then he could not be the author of those great events which flow from them. On this principle there might transpire countless events of the greatest magnitude without the direction and superintendance of Deity. The admission of _this_ is but practical Atheism. It is acknowledging a God in words, but in works denying him. It alike makes _chance_ the governor of the world to those who acknowledge such a God, as to those who wholly deny his existence. In our text a presiding Deity is solemnly recognized by the prophet Daniel, and his supremacy over the affairs of men is throughout the whole chapter most strikingly set forth before the Assyrian king. He had dreamed a dream which none of the wise men of Babylon were able to interpret. Daniel was called to him; who after making known to that proud monarch his destiny involved in that dream, expostulates with him on his conduct. He did not threaten him with endless punishment in tile immortal world, but informed him that there was a God that ruled the heavens, and presided over the affairs of men; and exhorted him to forsake his iniquities. This is his language: "And whereas they commanded to leave the stump of the tree roots, thy kingdom shall be sure unto thee, after thou shalt have known that the heavens do rule. Wherefore, O king! Let my counsel be acceptable unto thee, and break off thy sins by righteousness, and thine iniquities by showing mercy to the poor, if it may be a lengthening of thy tranquillity. All this came upon the king Nebuchadnezzar. At the end of twelve months, he walked in the palace of the kingdom of Babylon. The king spake, and said, Is not this great Babylon, that I have built for the house of my kingdom, by the might of my power and for the honor of my majesty? While the word was in the king's mouth, there fell a voice from heaven, saying, O king Nebuchadnezzar! To thee it is spoken; the kingdom is departed from thee. And they shall drive thee from men, and thy dwelling shall be with the beasts of the field; they shall make thee to eat grass as oxen, and seven times shall pass over thee, until thou know that the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will." Nebuchadnezzar was the Son of Nabopolasser, and the second king of Assyria. He was Regent with his father in the Empire 607 years before the birth of our Lord, and the next year, he raised a powerful army, marched against Jerusalem, and took Jehoiakim, king of Judah, prisoner. While making preparations to carry him and his subjects into captivity, in Babylon, Jehoiakim solemnly promised submission, and begged the privilege of holding his throne under the sceptre of Nebuchadnezzar. This favor was granted, and he was permitted to remain at Jerusalem. Three years after this, he made an unsuccessful attempt to throw off the Assyrian yoke and regain his former independence. This brought on the general captivity of the Jewish nation, which lasted 70 years. Nebuchadnezzar extended his conquests till he subjugated the Ethiopians, Arabians, Idumeans, Philistines, Syrians, Persians, Medes, Assyrians, and nearly all Asia to his sceptre. These splendid conquests, and being now king of kings, lifted up his heart with pride, that he caused a golden image to be reared on the plains of Dura. He issued a royal edict, and commanded the princes and rulers of all these nations as well as their principal subjects to assemble; and being assembled, he commanded them to fall down and worship his golden god. Daniel's companions refused to do this, and were cast into the fiery furnace. From this circumstance he was brought to acknowledge a Supreme Being, and even issued a decree that any one who spoke amiss against the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego should be cut in pieces. But as he was gazing upon the massy walls of Babylon--a work of gigantic achievement; as he was surveying, from the height of his palace, the hanging gardens and lofty towers, (an aerial world!) as he was admiring his own magnificence, by the sentence of that God whom he had glorified, he was driven from men, and in the Hebrew style of expression, is said to have eaten grass like oxen. By this we are to understand that he was suddenly seized with a disease called by the Greeks lycanthropy, and which is known among physicians at the present day by the name of hypochondria. It is a species of madness that causes persons to run into the fields and streets in the night, and sometimes to suppose themselves to have the heads of oxen, horses, dogs, or fancy themselves to be like some other animal, and doomed to fare like them. And some have imagined themselves to be made of glass. At the end of seven years Nebuchadnezzar's understanding returned to him, and he was restored to his throne and glory. He died 562 years before Christ in the 43rd year of his reign. It is our intention to consider this text in a moral point of view, as applicable to all men of all ages, and in all conditions in life. While pursuing the various occupations to which our inclination, or fancy may lead, we are too apt to lose sight of that Being who holds our destinies in his hand; and more particularly so in seasons of prosperity, when blest with health and other sublunary enjoyments. Strange as it may seem, yet it is substantially true, that in proportion as man is successful in the accomplishment of his plans, he becomes arrogant and haughty in his feelings, and instead of acknowledging his dependence on God, and feeling the bursts of gratitude for the favors and enjoyments heaven scatters in his path, he loses sight of the benign hand that blesses him, and, like the proud Assyrian monarch, ascribes all his prosperity to his own plans, and to the effect of his own peculiar management. He surveys the lands he has purchased, the beautiful buildings he has erected, the wealth he has accumulated, and in view of these achievements of his hand, as he is floating on the full tide of prosperity, he is ready to breathe out in exultation,--"is not this great Babylon which I have built for the house of my kingdom, by the might of my power and for the honor of my majesty." When success becomes common, man forgets his dependence on Him who rules in the armies of heaven, and over the affairs of men. It is our duty as intelligent creatures to exercise our reason in viewing things as they really are. He, who will not do this, but goes through life thoughtless, so far resigns the man, and assumes the brute. Even some, who bear the christian name, proclaim against reason, call her carnal, and prostrate her as it were at the shrine of enthusiasm. They lean upon certain frames and feelings of the animal nature. They are so far driven from men. I say it is our duty as rational intelligences to hold our station in the scale of being, and to exercise our reason in viewing things as they are. We ought candidly and solemnly to weigh the blessings of God, and consider the relation in which we stand to him as our Creator and Benefactor. Who can tell the value of existence, or number its countless joys? What a wonderful production is man! He has given us the most beautiful symmetry of parts,--has moulded our limbs with accuracy, and freely bestowed these admirable lineaments of form! He has formed the ear for sound, and awakened in its vocal chambers the flowing charms of music, the harmony of rejoicing nature, the dear voices of parents and children, and the sweet whisperings of love and friendship! He has moulded the transparent eye, bedded it in its bony socket, and on its retina painted the universe! He has bid it not only to disclose, all the varied passions of the soul, but to roll with softness and affection on the fond companion of our ways, on the countless beauties of nature, and bid it with infinite ease sweep the entire vault of heaven. He has set in motion the warm current of life that rolls through our veins, pouring nourishment, health and animation through all the channels of existence. It is he who throbs the heart, who heaves the lungs, and who bids the ten thousand complicated parts of this organized frame move on. In all this, his goodness is every moment felt, and yet we are thoughtless of these manifestations of his loving kindness. They are so common that we have ceased to prize them. When sickness and distress come upon us, it is then we learn the value of health and ease, and are often awakened to the reality that the Most High rules. In view of the trials incident to life, we hear the Psalmist exclaim "Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept thy word." This seems to be the lamentable condition of man. When rolling in the calm tide of uninterrupted prosperity, and rejoicing in the vigor of health, he forgets there is a God, or becomes thoughtless that the heavens do rule, and begins, like the king of Babylon, to ascribe all his success to his own power, foresight and management, and is practically an atheist. But however thoughtless men may be, yet there is a God who governs the world, and will so order and direct his providence, that every one who goes counter to the principles of rectitude is _doomed, inevitably_ doomed, to suffer the consequences. There is too much practical atheism in the world. By this we mean that there are too many of those who acknowledge a God in words, that deny him in conduct. Every one, who lives upon the bounties of heaven, who enjoys the sweets of existence, and remains thoughtless of God, is practically an atheist. As saith Paul, "They profess that they know God, but in works they deny him, being abominable and disobedient, and unto every good work reprobate." He, who goes on in the ways of transgression and multiplies his iniquities, must either believe there is no God, or else conclude that he does not rule over the affairs of men; and on this ground flatters himself that he shall escape punishment. And not only so, but in opposition to the express declaration of Jehovah, he believes that he shall enjoy a degree of happiness in the indulgence of sin. All such are driven from those rational reflections and moral principles, which virtually constitute the man, and have yet to learn, "that the heavens do rule." SERMON IV "And they shall drive thee from men, and thy dwelling shall be with the beasts of the field, and they shall make thee to eat grass as oxen, and seven times shall pass over thee until thou know that the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of, men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will." Daniel iv:32. Every man, who believes that the path of virtue is thorny, and that of vice is pleasurable, is not only deceived, but has not yet learned that the Most High holds the reins of government, and dispenses to his creatures their rewards and punishments. It is evident, if every man solemnly believed that a course of sin would bring upon him certain and unavoidable misery--and that every species of dishonesty would lessen his fortune in the world, he would abandon his course, and turn his feet to the testimonies of God. The transgressor is therefore deceiving himself, is resting under a strong delusion, and is yet ignorant that the Almighty rules throughout his vast dominions. Certain it is that a wicked man was never happy while remaining in that condition, and it is equally certain that no one ever yet went unpunished. To this point we intend to invite your serious attention in this discourse. The expression in our text, "till thou know that the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men," does not only imply a knowledge of the existence of a Supreme Intelligence, who governs the world, but an obedience to the moral laws of his empire. On this proposition we purpose to offer a few rational, and not only rational, but irresistible arguments. We will first notice the condition of those who are guilty of heinous crimes, and then come down to the common walks of life, and bestow a few remarks on those who are indifferent about their condition, and only guard their conduct so far as comports with the customs and manners of that portion of the community, who have no higher principle of action than to be considered respectable among men. Though we come before the public to defend the doctrines of Christ, yet, my friends, you will bear in mind that it is also our duty to enforce his precepts, and exhort to the obedience of the gospel. That we should point out the road of sin, error and misery, and also endeavor to throw the light of heavenly truth on the pathway of human life. We will begin with the murderer, who wantonly embrues his hands in the blood of his fellow. So far as he has violated the laws of his country, he is a subject for public execution, and has nothing to hope for, at the tribunal of human justice. His misery, whether it arise from the contemplation of an ignominious death, from the fear of detection, or from the consciousness of having violated the moral principles of his nature, is alike insupportable, as well as indescribable. Is he detected? Shut out from the world and confined in his loathsome cell, he is left to his own reflections, and to all the horrors of the gathering storm. But even admitting that he should escape detection, and be left to his own meditations on his deed of blood, he would, like Cain, breathe out in agony of soul, "my punishment is greater than I can bear!" He might, indeed, mingle with the busy throng--he might even smile, and wear a face of pleasure, but behind this mantled mask he would conceal a heart of pain. He might, indeed, gaze upon the landscape, listen to the songs of the grove, and contemplate the glories of nature, but the charm, that once gave him ecstatic delight and solid joy, is vanished from his sight; and all, that once was fair and lovely, wears the frown of darkness and indignation. He gazes upon little children, and hears their artless and innocent prattle, reflects what he once was, and every joy, that sparkles in their eyes, sends a dagger to his heart. The rustling of a leaf strikes him with terror and alarm, and every passing breeze bears to his tormented soul the groans of the dying man, and conscience forces him to listen to the heart-rending tale of wo. Fain would he fly from himself, and enjoy one hour's repose; but alas! That God, who rules in the kingdom of men, has written a law in his heart, where he reads and feels his condemnation, and where conscience sits on the judgment seat, constantly holds him arraigned at her tribunal, and fans up in his bosom the burning flames of hell! He may lie down on his pillow, but spectres haunt his brain; and awake, asleep, at home, abroad, he finds that he has rendered his own existence a curse. He lives in misery, and in darkness expires. Let us next notice the thief, who plunders our property. His crime is of less magnitude than the above, but his guilt is in proportion. No one by such means has ever enriched himself. He, who obtains property by dishonorable means, is ignorant of its value, and will dishonorably spend it. He has forgotten that God governs the world. Our state-prisons and penitentiaries not only (so far as human laws are concerned) reveal his fate, but speak his woes. But suppose he escape detection, and is only exposed to the naked and fearful grandeur of that law which God has written in the heart. He hears its thunders, and he feels its fires. He his taken from some fellow being his hard earnings; and sees him and perhaps his children mourning their misfortune and suffering the miseries of adversity. Guilt takes possession of his soul, and misery, which the hand of time cannot extinguish, rolls its dark waves of damnation upon him, and drowns his dearest joys, while poverty marks him for her own. God has so constituted his plans in the government of the world that the plunderer cannot prosper. Inward horrors and fears of detection abstract his mind from the proper duties of life, so that misfortune and defeat find their way into his plans, which might otherwise by calm deliberation have succeeded, and disappointment and misery, satiety and disgust, and all the evils that are the offspring of his iniquity, commingling in a thousand ways, render his existence wretched. Relying upon dishonesty for support, he becomes but a midnight beggar. His slumbers are haunted by frightful dreams; and fear of detection, prisons and dungeons are torturing his imagination and incessantly sporting with his broken peace. He is a stranger to those solid joys arising from the practice of virtue, is doomed to encounter all the miseries that attend his ill-chosen career, and to drink every drug of wormwood and gall that heaven has mingled in the cup of dishonor. He lives a nuisance and pest to society, and dies covered with infamy. In all this we shall see the truth of our text exemplified, that God rules in the kingdom of men, and brings punishment, not only upon a haughty monarch seated on the throne of nations, but upon every transgressor however obscure may be his condition in the walks of private life. The sovereign decree of his empire is--"THOUGH HAND JOIN IN HAND, YET SHALL THE WICKED NOT GO UNPUNISHED." But we take our leave of flagitious crimes and proceed to notice men in the common walks of life. Every man who makes riches, or public honors the chief end of all his pursuits, and gives all his attention to the attainment of his object, and over-reaches in bargains whenever an opportunity offers, or sets various prices on his merchandise, according to the person with whom he deals--such a man will never feel himself filled with riches, nor satisfied with honors. The reasons are obvious. He commences his career under the impression that happiness, contentment and all the rational enjoyments of life consist in wealth, and in human greatness. He soon finds himself in possession of as large a fortune as he first supposed would make him happy. But his desires for more, having imperceptibly expanded, he finds within an increased restlessness, and even greater desires for _more_ than when he first set out. He still believes, according to his original impression, that happiness lies in gold; and that the only reason why he has not obtained those solid joys in possession which he first anticipated, is because he still needs more. But though wealth may flow upon him in oceans, his cravings for more will ever swell beyond what earth can give, and leave him a more wretched being than he was at the commencement of his course. Here is his loss--here is his punishment. God has not placed happiness in wealth. _"A competence is all we can enjoy, O, be content where heaven can give no more."_ Or let him rise to that station of honor, which he now believes will satisfy him, and his ambition would aspire to one more exalted. Let him govern one kingdom, and he would desire to subjugate another till the whole world bowed to his nod. And were every star an inhabited world, and did he possess means to invade them, his ambition would continue to soar till he ruled the universe, and were there no object left to which he might still direct his ambition and continue to soar, he would set down in despair, and, like Alexander the Great, weep and sigh for more worlds to conquer. All this restlessness and misery arise from false notions of: happiness--from not realizing that the Most High rules in the kingdom of men--and from a want of confidence in his word, which points the rich and the poor alike to that noble path of virtue and religion, where true happiness and unbroken peace forever reign. By men embracing virtue, and in their feelings and actions ever acknowledging the supremacy of Jehovah, inevitably leads to happiness and contentment. But in doing this we are not to deprive ourselves of the enjoyment of honest gotten wealth, nor of the rational pursuits and interchanges of social and domestic life. Religion was not given to deprive us of the common comforts and conveniences of life, but to sweeten them. Our Redeemer says, "seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." Sin and misery in this world are inseparable: so are righteousness and happiness. If they are not, then it remains for the advocates for a future retribution to show how men are to be sufficiently rewarded and punished in the future world. There is my friends no solid happiness, no permanent satisfaction only in the contemplation that God governs the world, and in the practice of pure and rational piety. This you may know by studying your own bosom. Have any of you thus far spent your days in striving to find perfect bliss in the various pursuits of life? Have you aspired to one object, abandoned it, and taken up another? If so, can you say that you have found the happiness you anticipated, and so earnestly sought? No! What is the reason? There is one thing needful. Whatever may be your pursuit, if you are thoughtless that God governs the world, and if instead of rendering him the homage of a grateful heart, you blaspheme his name, or are selfish and regardless of the happiness of your fellow creatures, you must, according to the established laws of his empire, remain in that same restless and dissatisfied condition till you know by experience that the heavens do rule--till you bow to the sublime requirements of his word. _That dissatisfaction_ varied according to the condition of moral character is the punishment God sends upon us for our indifference. From this indifference we may rise to that unquenchable thirst for riches, already noticed, and our sufferings will receive new accessions according to our moral light. And from this we may rise to a desire for honour and power, till we are hurried on by ambition to conquest and slaughter where we are doomed to suffer all the miseries a Buonaparte endured. From this we may rise to dishonour, fraud and theft; and as we rise in crime, our miseries increase in degree, till we imbrue our hands in innocent blood, and thus render our bosoms a hell and our very existence a burthen. Every man is in a condition of uneasiness, suffering, guilt, hardness of heart and blindness of mind exactly in proportion to his moral conduct. Let us then be wise;--and if we desire happiness, let us seek it in that course where the unerring word of God assures us it can alone be found. Let us acknowledge "that the heavens do rule," and rest assured that He, who notices the fall of a sparrow, will not wink at our evil doings. SERMON V "For what if some did not believe, shall their unbelief make the faith of God without effect? God forbid; yea let God be true, but every man a liar." Romans iii:3, 4. The doctrine of salvation by Jesus Christ, is worthy the solemn consideration of all men. It is this, that rendered a revelation necessary. It is this that kindled the flame of transport in celestial bosoms, and raised that triumphant song, "glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, good will towards men." Salvation is the doctrine of the Bible, and ought ever to be the theme of the pulpit. Salvation is the oracle of heaven around which all denominations assemble, receive their instructions, and believe according to the force of evidence. Prefaced with these remarks, we will now proceed to state what we conceive to be the _law and gospel_--point out the distinction between them, and defend the gospel doctrine of salvation of faith. The law was a conditional covenant between God and man. It was predicated on works. Under this covenant, if a man were strictly moral in his external deportment--if he lived up to its letter, he was considered righteous. This covenant was imperfect, because it could be kept externally without reaching the heart. They could exclaim like the young man, who came to Jesus--"all these things have I kept from my youth up," and still lack the one great point, charity. Therefore by the deeds of the law no flesh could be justified in the sight of God. The law, being temporary in its nature, had nothing to do with eternal things. Paul says, "sin is the transgression of the law. Where there is no law there is not the knowledge of sin." From this it appears that sin, being a transgression of that law, which was given us for the regulation of our conduct in this life, can receive no punishment in the future world. If sin should be committed in the future state, then in the future state it would be punished. The same argument will apply to our obedience to the law, which can receive, for the same reason, no reward in that world. "No flesh shall be justified by the deeds of the law." "Eternal life is the gift of God." If so, then it cannot be "of works, lest any man should boast." God, being infinite in wisdom, could not have failed to enact a law so perfect, and so exactly adapted to the nature of man, that _obedience_ would render him a rich reward, and _disobedience_ a condign punishment. The wise man says that "the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth; much more the wicked and the sinner." We now turn to the spirit of the law.--"To love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself is the fulfillment of the law;" and if we are not to be saved by the law, then our _love_ to God and each other cannot save us; for that is the law. By what then are we to be saved? Answer: by the gospel, which is God's love manifested to his creatures. The conclusion then is that we are not to be saved by our _love_ to God, but by God's _love_ to us. This, I presume, no one will dispute. Here then we discern the difference between the law and the gospel. God's love is the _cause_ of salvation--human love is the _effect_. "Herein (says John) is love; not that we loved God, but that he loved us." "We love him _because_ he _first_ loved us." How many did he love? He so loved the world who were dead in trespasses and sins, that he freely delivered up his Son for us all--he by the grace of God tasted death for every man. This is the gospel-love that God commendeth towards us, and the love that will finally save us. Many persons contend that we must love God and do certain duties, or we cannot be saved. This is preaching ourselves. It is preaching the love of man as the cause of his salvation, instead of the love of God. And while thus preaching, they will perhaps at the same time tell the sinner that God is his enemy. But will the sinner's love make God his friend--will it cause his Creator to love him? No; right the reverse of this is the doctrine of Christ. "We love God because he first loved us." If we deny God's _first_ love to the sinner, we then destroy the very _cause_ by which _alone_ the sinner can be made to love God. If we make men believe that God is their enemy and hates them, then we use all the means in our power to drive them from the bosom of their Father, and keep them in darkness and sin. The sinner, in this situation, can never be made to serve God, only by being driven to it by terror, the same as some wretched slave is made to cower and submit in fear and dread to some revengeful tyrant. But this is not the service God requires. He requires a service which is delightful, and in which his creature feels an abundant reward. We grant that men, under the first covenant, were called upon to fear God. The reason of this obvious, when we reflect that God had covenanted to bestow certain blessings upon them, providing they would do their duty. If they failed, then he would execute the temporal judgments upon them, which the law points out, and threatens. Under this covenant men had just as much reason to fear, as they were liable to transgress it. But when an angel announced the dawn of a better covenant; he said "fear not, for behold I bring you glad tidings of great joy." In this is nothing to be feared. All the fear lies in the first, and thunders out to ever sinner, "cursed is every one that continueth not in all things written in the law to do them?" But John, speaking in view of the second covenant, says, "there is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear, because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love." The _first_ covenant is founded on works, and is _conditional_;--but the _second_ is founded on the immutable promise of God, and is _unconditional_. In the law, we are commanded _to do_ according to the reasonableness of its requirements; but in the gospel we are exhorted _to believe_ in view of evidence and fact. And as no man can believe, or disbelieve what he pleases, therefore conditions are excluded. What is the meaning of gospel? It is good tidings of great joy. It is life and immortality brought to light at the appearing of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, who has abolished death by giving us the assurance of a resurrection from corruption to incorruption and glory. It is news. In view of news, what is the first thing necessary? Answer, _belief_. It is impossible to work news; therefore the gospel is not of works. In the law, the first requirement is _to do_;--but in the gospel the first requirement is _to believe_. The law-covenant is therefore temporary, fallible and uncertain; but the gospel-covenant is eternal, infallible, and in all things well ordered and sure. The _first_ rests on the obedience of the creature, but the _second_ on the promises of Jehovah. Paul therefore calls it a better covenant established upon _better_ promises. Perhaps someone may feel disposed to ask--whether faith is all that is necessary? We reply that it is the cause which produces its effect. Paul answers this question thus--"We conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law, Do we then make void the law through faith? God forbid; yea we establish the law." Here let the question be asked;--how do we establish the law by _faith_? Answer, "Faith will have its perfect work." But what is that perfect work, which faith produces? Ans. Faith works love in the soul; and if we love God, we will keep his commandments. And _faith, love_ and _keeping_ the commandments are the three exercises, that form the christian character. Faith is the foundation; works are not. We cannot begin to build on works. Instead of being the _first_, they are the _last_ christian grace. They are the visible _effects_ of an inward, living faith. Faith and faith _only_ is the seed rooted and grounded in the truth, and (to use a Bible figure) it becometh a tree, and produces all the fruits of the spirit-love, joy, meekness, temperance, long-suffering, forbearance. This is what the apostle calls the "righteousness of faith" in contradistinction to "the righteousness of the law," produced by fear. Paul compares faith to a good olive tree. "The Jews through unbelief were broken off," and "thou (the Gentile) standest by faith." Jesus says; "if ye have faith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, remove hence to yonder place, and it shall remove." Here, in parable, faith is represented as removing mountains of sin. He further says--"Thy _faith_ hath made thee whole";--not thy works. Paul exclaims, "Faith works by love, purifies the heart and overcomes the world." John says, "and this is the victory that overcometh the world even our faith." It is a certain fact, that none of these salutary effects are ascribed to human works. The apostles in no instance say, that _works_ purify the heart, or overcome the world--or that this is the victory, even your _works_; The whole is ascribed to _faith_; because that is the living tree on which the good fruits grow. Works are, in scripture, called fruits. "By their _fruits_ ye shall know them"--that is by their _works_. "A good tree cannot bring forth evil _fruit_." To carry out this figure, we would remark that, fruit can have no existence till the tree is first produced. Therefore in a gospel sense, no good works, acceptable to God, can be produced without a true and living faith. The apostle declares, "without faith it is impossible to please God." The gospel being good tidings, or news, are you satisfied that thing necessary? I presume all denominations will assent to the fact, that faith is the first religious exercise of the creature. We shall then obey the command of the apostle, and "contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints." But asks the reader, what matter is it which is first in order, whether _love, faith_ or _works_? I reply that it is a matter of vast importance, and without understanding this fact, we cannot come to the knowledge of the truth, even though we should be ever learning. If these three christian graces _faith, love_ and _works_, are preached in a confused and mixed manner, we cannot arrive at a true understanding of a gospel salvation, neither can we tell the difference between law and gospel. The law is of works, and the gospel is of faith. And no man can fulfill the spirit of the law without faith in the gospel. When the sinner exercises faith in the love and goodness of God in freely giving him eternal life, which infinitely transcends all other blessings--that moment faith works love in his heart, and causes him to rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. He then loves God because God first loved him. And when the sinner loves God, he is passed from death unto life, and that love is the fulfillment of the law. We are now led to see the consistency of faith being the first step. It is the very _cause_ that produces _love_ to God, and _love_ induces us to keep the commandments. "Faith works by love," and "if ye love me," says Jesus, "ye will keep my commandments." We will now introduce an example, which will plainly show the distinction between the law and gospel and in what manner they affect the sinner. Suppose a king sentences six of his subjects to imprisonment during life, and commands them to spend their days in hard labor. They are put in confinement, refuse to obey his commands-- refuse to labor, and in the midst of their miseries curse his name. They are now in disobedience under the condemnation of the law. The king says to his only Son, I love those subjects and I covenant with you to set them free in three years. The Son says, Father I delight to do thy will. Let me go and reveal to them, the glad tidings of this covenant promise. The king answers--my Son, in the fullness of time I will send you. Let them remain, one year, under the law. But says the Son, they are now transgressing your law, and need instruction. The king replies, I will send my servant to enforce that law. Let him go and inform the prisoners, that I am angry with them for their conduct; and if they will obey my commands, and labor faithfully, they shall have excellent food and good clothing as a reward. But if they will not comply, they shall be chained, and kept on bread and water as a punishment for their disobedience. The servant goes and delivers to them this message. Three of those subjects, for fear of the punishment and in _hope_ of the reward, obey the king, and outwardly respect his commands, but perhaps have little, or no love for him. (Here we see the righteousness of the law which is not acceptable to God.) They accordingly receive, day by day, the promised reward. But the other three prisoners despise these conditions and refuse to obey. They are chained, fed on bread and water, and meet their deserts. Here, then, are six prisoners laboring under the law, and groaning in bondage with no hopes of deliverance. The law knows of no deliverance --no redemption. It simply serves as a school master to teach them the difference between right and wrong--to teach them the will of the king, and thus prepare them to receive a better covenant, which is to be revealed to them by the king's Son. But under the covenant they now are, they have no motives to prompt them to obedience, but the _fear_ of punishment and the _hope_ of reward. In our next, this will be fully illustrated. SERMON VI "For what if some did not believe, shall their unbelief make the faith of God without effect? God forbid; yea let God be true, but every man a liar." Romans iii:3, 4. We resume the argument, in this discourse, concerning those prisoners brought forward in our last. We left them in bondage under the sentence of the law with no hopes of deliverance. The first year rolls away. The king says, my son, the time has come--go, and reveal my love to the prisoners by bringing the promise of their redemption to light. The son flies on wings of love, enters the prison and exclaims--I bring you good tidings of great joy. My father, the king, is your friend. He loves you; and that love has induced him to proclaim your liberation as a free gift. He has promised (and he cannot lie) that in two years from this day you shall be free. This covenant, so far as concerns its fulfillment, is unconditional. Believe, and you will be saved, by faith in the promise, from your present fears, and condemnation under the law. Those stubborn prisoners see a sufficiency of evidence to believe the promise. They exercise unshaken faith in this second covenant between the father and son. This faith works by love in their hearts, and purifies them from disobedience. Their souls melt in view of the love and goodness of the king revealed to them by his son. In fine, they love him because he first loved them. They are now saved by faith in his promise from not only all their miseries and sorrows, but from their disobedience, and look forward with joy to the day of redemption. Here we perceive the "_righteousness of faith_," which far exceeds the "_righteousness of the law_." They now delight to obey the king because they are under the influence of love. Here let the question be asked--are these three men to be let out of prison at the appointed time because they believe the promise, or love and obey the king? They are not. Their redemption depended on the truth and faithfulness of the king's promise which he made to his son, and that promise would have been fulfilled, even if it had not been revealed to them till the day of their deliverance. They are not to be set free as a reward for their _faith, love and obedience_. They have great peace and joy in believing that promise. They are in the happy enjoyment of a salvation by faith, and that is all the reward they deserve, or have reason to expect. We here perceive that these three men are made to establish the law of their king by faith in the good news he sent them by his son, which is to them a gospel. We now see the propriety of the apostle's language--"We conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law. Do we then make void the law through faith? God forbid; yea we establish the law." We also perceive that these three men are not to be liberated from prison because they believe the promise, or love and obey the king. But on the contrary it is the king's love and promise to them which sets them free. Let us now notice the other three prisoners. One says I do not believe that we shall ever be released from prison. It is too good news to be true. Well, shall his unbelief make the king's promise of none effect? The king forbid; yea let the king be true, but that man a liar. But let it be remembered that he cannot be proved a liar unless he is liberated. Would you now go and tell that man-sir, because you will not _believe_, you shall never come forth from prison? But do you not perceive that by so doing you would give the king the lie? It would be saying that his promise was good for nothing unless the man would believe it. It would be contending that the unbelief of this prisoner will make the king's promise of none effect. The other two prisoners exclaim--we believe this _second_ covenant, but it must bear some resemblance to the first which is conditional. We believe that we shall get out of this prison if we continue to serve the king as, we have heretofore, by keeping his commandments.-- Here are two men trusting in the _first covenant_ for deliverance. They are trusting in the law. They are depending on their own _love and faithfulness_ to the king for redemption, and not on the king's _love, promise and faithfulness_ to them. Here then we see the righteousness of the law in those two prisoners; in another we see the effect of unbelief; and in those three who remained disobedient under the first covenant, we see the righteousness which is of faith when they heard the glad tidings of redemption in the second covenant. At length the day of their redemption dawns. They are all brought to the knowledge of the truth. Those three prisoners, who were saved by faith in the promise during those two years of suspense, now find their faith lost in certainty. Their salvation, by faith has come to an end. And so has the unbelief, condemnation and doubtings of the other three prisoners. In one word--the _belief and unbelief_ of the six are lost in knowledge, and they burst out in songs of deliverance So we perceive that a salvation by faith, and a condemnation in unbelief can last no longer than till we come to the knowledge of the truth. Let us now apply this to the scriptures. Man sinned, and not only involved himself in guilt and misery, but was sentenced to that very death with which God threatened him--"Dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return." Here was the end of the first covenant, and the termination of all the miseries of life. It is evident from revelation as well as reason that man at death drops to a state of insensibility, and knows no more till he is made alive in Christ, who is himself the second covenant. The language of scripture is, the dead know not any thing--they sleep--and the apostle (in 1 Cor. xv Chap.) reasons that if there be no resurrection, then there will be no future existence-- that they which are fallen asleep in Christ are perished--that preaching was vain--faith was also vain, and that the christians were yet in their sins. On such language as this, I can put no other construction than that the resurrection is our salvation and eternal life, our deliverance from sin and imperfection. Under the first covenant the resurrection in Christ was not revealed to the human family, and they remained of course under the sentence of condemnation with no hopes of a future existence. "By the offense of one judgment came upon all men to condemnation." Obedience to the law was enforced by threatenings on the one hand, and promises of temporal rewards on the other, which were communicated to the fathers by the prophets. But God has in these latter days spoken unto us by his Son, and through him revealed the second covenant in which he "gave him the heathen for an inheritance, and the utter most parts of the earth for a possession," and declared him to be the resurrection and life of the world. If in the divine counsels no Christ had been provided, the human family it appears would have remained in eternal slumber. They would have known but one covenant, which would have rewarded and punished them according to their deeds, and consigned them to the regions of the dead. "But since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead." God saw fit to keep the human family for four thousand years under the first covenant, without the knowledge of eternal life through the resurrection of the dead. But it was, at length, "made manifest by the appearing of our Saviour Jesus Christ, who hath abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel." Yes, he first brought it to light, and through his apostle declared "In hope of eternal life which God that cannot lie promised before the world began, but hath in due time manifested his word through preaching." This promise of eternal life, all men are called upon to believe. The moment they believe, they are saved by faith, and are at peace; and they that doubt are damned--they are already under condemnation. But shall their unbelief make God's promise of eternal life of none effect? God forbid; yea let God be true but every man a liar. "For he hath concluded them all in unbelief that he might have mercy upon all." We have now noticed the two covenants--the _law and gospel_--have pointed out the distinction between them--shown that all _conditions_ are confined to the law, and that the gospel is _unconditional_, and justly requires our faith and confidence. We will now bring to view the scripture doctrine of salvation by faith, and show that divine truth must have an existence before we can be called upon to believe. All scripture is given by inspiration of God and is based upon eternal and unchanging truth. Truth is one of the attributes of Jehovah and the unshaken pillar that supports the throne of eternity. In truth and righteousness he governs the world, and by an omnipotent arm wields the destinies of men. Truth is the sun of divine revelation pouring its beams on intelligent creation and calling upon all men to believe. If a man assert that which does exist, it is a truth; but if he assert that which does not exist, it is a falsehood. Whatever has an existence in the compass of reality is a truth to be believed, and whatever has no such existence is a falsehood not to be believed. It is beyond the power of man to create one solitary divine truth. All that he can do is to declare the existence of that which may be hidden from others, or relate some circumstances respecting that which does absolutely exist. An absolute truth must, therefore, be presented to the understandings of men before they can be called upon to believe it, or before they can be called believers for embracing it, or _unbelievers_ for rejecting it. No man can be an unbeliever for rejecting that which does not exist. We now commence plain argument by using great plainness of speech. In preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ truth must be the foundation. If then truth must exist before men can be called upon to believe, the question arises what is that truth which the second covenant reveals for the belief of mankind? Answer, it is the record God hath given of his Son. But what is the _record_? Let John answer--"this is the record, God hath given us _eternal life_, and this life is in his Son." It then follows that we are to believe that God has given us eternal life in his Son before the world began, and unchangeably promised it. Paul says--"In hope of eternal life which God that cannot lie promised before the world began." If we believe the record, we are in the scriptures recognized as _believers_ and are saved by faith, and will of course exhibit in our life and conversation the righteousness of faith. The great error of any who read the Bible, consists in supposing there is but one salvation. But there are two. The _first_ is a special salvation by belief in the promise, and the second is our eternal salvation beyond the grave, where we shall be brought to the knowledge of the truth involved in the promise, and to _know_ shall be life eternal. Faith shall then be lost in certainty. Now if we disbelieve the record will that make it false? No; our unbelief cannot alter the fact. Let the record then be proclaimed to every creature--saying God has promised and given you eternal life in Christ before the world began, and calls upon all to believe it. But suppose they should all reject it saying we do not believe one word of it, would their _unbelief_ make the promise or record false? No. Would not then the record prove true? It would. Then the whole world would, of course, receive that eternal life which is promised and given them in Christ. No, says the objector, they will not believe. But can their unbelief make God's promise of none effect? Can it put that truth out of existence and make it a falsehood? We would ask the objector, what will they not believe? Answer; they will not believe that God has given them eternal life in his Son. Very well,--then the whole amount of the objection is that God has given them eternal life in Christ, but they will not believe it, and because they will not believe it, they never shall obtain it! Then we must contend (if they never obtain it) that it was never given to them, and if not given, then the record is false; because the record declares that God has given them eternal life in his Son. It then follows that their unbelief can make the faithfulness of God without effect by rendering the word, he has given, false. But says the objector it ought to be stated conditionally as follows-- God first calls upon men to believe, and if they will believe, then Christ will become their Saviour, and then they will receive eternal life in him and not before. But does not the objector see that he has stated no fact for them to believe in order to make Christ their Saviour? I ask what does God call upon them to believe? There must be some truth presented before men can be called upon to believe. God calls upon men to believe, what--That Christ is their Saviour? But you said he was not their Saviour till after they believed. It then follows, according to the objector's statement, that he is not the Saviour of unbelievers. Now do you not perceive that if you should call upon them to believe that he was their Saviour, you would call upon them to believe a lie--that you would call upon them to believe what did not exist? And what does not exist cannot be true. Grant says the objector that he is the Saviour of the world, still as many as do not believe in him shall never be saved. But how can he be the Saviour of a man, he never saves? Two individuals are drowning in the water; you exert all your power to save them, but fail. Can you call yourself the saviour of those two men from temporal death? Impossible. In order for Christ to be called the Saviour of the world, he must save the world; otherwise there is not a shadow of propriety in giving him that name. And John says "We have seen and do testify that the Father sent the Son to be the Saviour of the world."--"We know, indeed, that this is the Messiah the Saviour of the world." In our next, we will conclude this subject, and trust we shall do it to the satisfaction of our readers. SERMON VII "For what if some did not believe, shall their unbelief make the faith of God without effect? God forbid; yea let God be true, but every man a liar." Romans iii:3, 4. We now resume the argument in reference to Christ the Saviour of men, as we proposed in our last. We here inquire of the objector--do you then grant that he is the Saviour of all men--the Saviour of the world as the scriptures declare? If so, we assure you that, he will save the number of whom he is declared to be the Saviour. But, replies the objector, he is not the Saviour of any man till he believes. We ask-- till he believes what? Why, replies the objector, till he believes that Christ is his Saviour--if he believes so, it will be so. Let us understand this--you say _he is not_ the Saviour of an unbeliever, still he must believe that he is, and that will make him so. Then he must first believe a lie and that will create a truth. This is (as Paul says) "turning the truth of God into a lie." But let us notice the record. "This is the record, God hath given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son." Do you grant, that God has given eternal life in Christ to every man? No, says the objector. Very well, then they cannot be called upon to believe it. Finally, says the objector, grant that he has. This being granted, we would ask, whether they will not come in possession of it, if God's promise stands? Certainly. But, replies the objector, it is not theirs, till they believe. Then the record is not true till they believe it; because, on this principle, they must first believe, that they have eternal life in Christ before it exists, and believing this lie will create it. But, replies the objector, it is impossible that any man has eternal life given him in Christ, till he believes. We then ask, what truth do you wish him to believe, so that he may obtain this eternal life? The fact is, there is none. He must believe _this truth_, itself because it is the record, but this, you have taken from him. You cannot call upon a man to believe, till you admit the existence of that very truth you wish him to believe. In order fully to expose the inconsistency of this conditional salvation, we will introduce an example. Suppose a father tell his servant, I have a son in London, nineteen years of age, who is in poverty and distress. I have given him in my will five thousand dollars, and I promise that it shall be put into his possession in two years. It is recorded and that record is true. Go my servant, and proclaim to him glad tidings of great joy, and call upon him to believe, so that he may enjoy a salvation by faith during those two years of suspense, and be made happy even amidst his wants by looking forward to when it shall be put into his possession. The servant sets out on his mission, and believes that he understands his errand. Being arrived, he addresses him as follows--Son, your father is very rich, and he has not willed you five thousand dollars, nor given it to you on record; and he never will, unless you _first believe_ that he has. But, replies the son, according to your message, if I should believe that he has given me five thousand dollars, I should believe a lie. Let my father give the money, deposit it in some bank; send me evidence of the fact, and with joy I will believe him. Well replies the servant you are a disobedient, stubborn unbeliever! Because, if you would only believe so, it would be so, and you would have the money in two years. You perceive (dear reader) that this servant has presented no truth for this son to believe. He wishes to give this son the impression that the obtaining of this fortune depends on his _believing_, and not on the _testament record, and faithfulness_ of his father. In fact, he denies the existence of the father's _will_, and the _record_, and requires the son to believe a lie so as to create the truth. The servant does not understand his message, and the son does not know on what certainty to rest for the money. In the same manner we are called upon to secure an _interest_--an eternal life in the Saviour. They will not admit its existence till we believe. Then _belief_ must create it. But may we spend our last breath in convincing poor sinners that it is already secured in Christ for them, so that they may believe, and live by faith on the son of God. This father sends another messenger. He tells this son of the goodness of his father, and that he has _willed_ him five thousand dollars, that the _will_ is put on record, and that this fortune will be put into his possession in two years. The son does not believe it. Now he is an unbeliever. But does his unbelief alter the truth of the _will_ or of the record. No. The certainty, of his obtaining the money, rests on the faithfulness of his kind parent. This servant perseveres, uses convincing arguments and the son at length believes he is saved by faith from all his miseries, and he rejoices with joy unspeakable. But his _believing_ does not make the record any more true than it was before he believed it. It simply alters his present condition by kindling in his bosom the joys arising from faith and anticipation.-- We have now answered the objections that would naturally be brought forward by those who believe that our eternal salvation is predicated on conditions. As _works_ are not the requirements of the gospel only so far as they flow from faith in the truth, and as _faith_ must precede works, therefore the truth of our eternal life in Christ, must exist previous to our believing. Consequently all conditions are excluded from the gospel covenant. We will now meet the objector on the doctrine of election and reprobation, the substance of which is as follows--After man fell, God was pleased to provide a Saviour for a part of the human family. That elect number he chose in Christ before the foundation of the world, gave them eternal life in him, and for them only he tasted death. The gospel is now to be preached to the whole world, and as long as they reject it, they are unbelievers. But the elect shall sooner, or later, all be brought to believe. We will examine the foundation on which this statement rests. To bring it clearly before you, we will take an example. Suppose there is a congregation of one hundred persons. Fifty of them were elected to everlasting life before the foundation of the world--were secured by a Saviour, and the rest were reprobated to endless wo. For them no Saviour was designed, and no eternal life ever has, or ever will be given them in him. Suppose a sermon is preached to those one hundred; and the fifty, who are elected, believe the record of their eternal life, are brought to the obedience of faith, while the other fifty remain unmoved. The preacher turns upon them and pronounces them _unbelievers_. But In what sense are they unbelievers? There has been no truth presented to them, which they disbelieve. Must they believe that Christ is their Saviour, or that they have an eternal life in him? But they would in such case believe a lie. If they believed right the reverse of the elect,--_believed_ that God was their enemy and that Christ was not their Saviour, they would be _believers_. But if they believed what the fifty converts did, they would be _unbelievers_. We here repeat one premise laid down in our last discourse--viz. In order for any man to be styled a _believer or unbeliever_, there must first be presented some truth for him to embrace or reject. Now either God has given us eternal life in Christ before the world began, or he has not. If he has, then we are _unbelievers_ if we reject it. If he has not given it, and should we still believe that he has, we would then believe a lie. But neither our _belief, or unbelief_ can ever alter the fact. God has "chosen us in Christ before the foundation of the world that we should be holy and without blame before him in love; having predestinated us unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ to himself according to the good pleasure of his will." * * * "Having made known unto us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure which he hath purposed in himself; that in the dispensation of the fullness of times, he might gather together, in one, all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and which are on earth, even in him." Some apply the above to the elect. But it embraces all things in heaven and earth, which are to be gathered together in Christ, and be new creatures. In addition to this we will introduce two more passages "Who hath saved us, and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world began." "In hope of eternal life, which God, that cannot lie, promised before the world began." In these scriptures we are assured _first_, that God chose us in Christ, before the foundation of the world--_second_, that he saved us according to his own purpose and grace before the world began, and _third_ that he promised eternal life before the world began. These things being embraced in his original plan, and purpose, their performance is therefore certain as that the whole plan of God will be carried unto execution. There is, in my humble opinion, a strange inconsistency in the common doctrine. They contend that on account of the transgression of our first parent, all mankind were fallen creatures and even came into existence totally depraved. To show the justice of God in the constitution of our nature, they contend that Adam was our covenant head, and had he maintained his original purity, we would also have stood perfect in holiness, and no one would have had any reason to complain. Now since Adam has fallen, and involved us in ruin, it is equally just in God that we should share the fate of our covenant head in the one instance as in the other. But if we make use of this same argument in relation to Christ, the second Adam--if we contend that he was the covenant head of every man, that the covenant was not made for _this_, but for the _future_ world--that this covenant of grace being made between the Father and the Son, was to stand independent of man-- that eternal life was promised and given us in him before the world began--that as our covenant head, he resisted all temptations, and perfectly fulfilled the law--that he died, and appeared alive beyond the tomb free from temptation, and in a holy and immortal constitution. If we contend for this, making use of their own arguments, saying that it is just as rational that we should appear in the image of Christ in the future world as that we should come into this world in the image of Adam, they will pronounce the argument so far as applicable to Adam, _sound logic_, but so far as this same argument of theirs is applied by Universalists to Christ, they pronounce it perfect jargon. But, says the objector, there is one point you have not settled, and I will here rest the whole of my argument upon it. It is this--God has, in no instance, promised eternal to _unbelievers_; and unless you can prove that the promise does extend to them, your arguments must fall like rottenness to the ground. We have certainly proved this, and to attend to the objector's request would but be, in some measure, going over the ground already occupied. We will, however, just touch this point again. We will introduce the following words of Paul to Titus. "In hope of eternal life which God that cannot lie promised before the world began." If God promised his creatures eternal life before the world began, will they not obtain it? They will for this passage says that he _cannot lie_. But says the objector, he has not promised it to the unbeliever. We would then inquire, what is it that constitutes him an _unbeliever_? Why do you call him an _unbeliever_? Do you say because he disbelieves the truth of God's promise? Then you must, of course, admit the truth of God's promise to him. If so, it must stand, for God cannot lie. You cannot call upon a sinner to _believe_, until you admit the existence of _that very truth_, you wish him to believe, God's promise of eternal life in Christ, is the gospel we are called upon to believe with a sincere heart. If you contend that it is promised to an elect number only, and not to the reprobates, then if they should all be brought to the knowledge of the truth, what would they believe? Ans. The elect would believe the promise of eternal life was made to them, the reprobates would believe right the reverse of the elect, and all would be believers. No, says the objector, the reprobates ought to believe just as the elect do. But in this case, they would believe that they also have the promise of eternal life. This would be believing a lie, because you say that God has not made them that promise? How would you preach to such persons? If you called upon them to believe the truth of the gospel, which is eternal life, you would call upon them to believe a lie. How can you extricate yourself from this difficulty? But inquires the objector, how do you know that God has promised eternal life to all? Ans. Because the scriptures do call all men either _believers_, or _unbelievers_, in view of the promise that God has made. Take away that promise and belief or unbelief respecting it can no longer have an existence-- _Believers and unbelievers_ would be no more. But says the objector this is not proof that eternal life is promised to an _unbeliever_. Well I am surprised at this assertion of my opponent! First, I ask, what do you call a believer? Ans. One who believes that God has promised, and given him eternal life in Christ before the world began. Then, of course, an _unbeliever_ must be one, to whom God has also promised and given eternal life in Christ before the world, but will not believe it. But says the objector this cannot be. I would then ask whether eternal life was not promised, and given in Christ to the _believer_ before he believed it? Certainly. It must have been the truth before he could believe. Well, what was he at that time? An _unbeliever_ of course. Then eternal [life] is promised to all, because it is the lack of faith in _that never failing promise_ of Jehovah that constitutes an unbeliever. But says the objector--a man "must do so and so," or he cannot be saved. This is not correct; he must _believe_, or he cannot be saved. We are saved by faith in the promise and are permitted to look forward with satisfaction and joy to an immortal existence where we shall be free from sin, sorrow and pain. This faith and hope fill the soul with love to God, and induce us to break off our sins by righteousness. So a salvation by faith can only be enjoyed in this life, and is to end when faith and hope are lost in certainty and in joy. Though only few are saved by faith, yet all shall know the Lord from the greatest to the least, whom to know is life eternal. SERMON VIII "Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." John iii. 3. As we have in the last three sermons dwelt particularly on a salvation by _faith_, we will take the liberty to introduce the subject of the new birth next in order, as it will be, more readily, retained by the reader, in this connexion than otherwise. Indeed, it hears a strong resemblance to them so far as the subject of faith is concerned in our present exposition. But whoever is a careful reader of the New Testament, will discover that the subject of faith, and the genuine repentance which that faith produces, is not of trivial moment. There is no subject of divine revelation, on which more has been said, preached and written than the one, which we are now about to consider. It has been brought forward by men of talents and erudition as an insuperable barrier against Universal Salvation, and their several adherents have taken it for granted, that it can never be explained in harmony with the sentiment, that all men shall eventually obtain eternal life through the Redeemer of men. But these impressions have arisen from the fact, that they have taken their own views and explanations to be scripturally correct, and from these premises, they have drawn conclusions utterly opposed to the final holiness and happiness of God's intelligent creation. They have supposed the new birth to be some mysterious change produced by some mysterious operation of the divine spirit on the mind, and that it is in substance a miracle. One denomination has contended that if a man once obtained this change, he was safe, could never "finally fall from grace," but would eventually land in the kingdom of immortal glory. Several other denominations admit the new birth to be the same change already noticed, but contend that the subject may fall from grace, and be finally lost. Here then the man, who was, according to their views, _born again_, might still never see the kingdom of God beyond the grave. On this principle the new birth would be no security, that any one would obtain heaven. According to this sentiment, a man might be born again, fall away, and be born again "until seven times," and in the end not see the kingdom of God. Those, who advocate this sentiment, believe that _faith and repentance_ prerequisites to the new birth, and also believe in the salvation of infants. This being so, it will come to pass that half of the world will be saved, inasmuch as about that number die in what may be, justly termed an infant state. But of those, who come to years of accountability, they believe but few will be saved. So the greater proportion of those, who will finally surround the throne of God, will be those, who have never been born again according to their views. It will not, I presume, be contended, that infants who, they believe, are totally depraved, ever exercise _faith_, or experience the _new birth_ in this life. From the above views, I shall take the liberty to dissent, and may probably differ some from the expositions given by others. It is evident that Jesus Christ in his instructions frequently brought forward some natural facts plainly understood by those whom he addressed, in order more clearly to illustrate his subject, and then made his illustrations so nearly resemble that natural fact, that no man could possible misunderstand him, unless he had been led into tradition by blind guides. In the context, he makes allusion to natural birth, of which every man knows the meaning, and says to Nicodemus, "that which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the spirit is spirit." Natural birth pre-supposes the perfect formation of the human body by that secret energy of nature, God only can comprehend. But that formation, itself, is not birth. Birth is that operation, that introduced us into this world. We are now flesh and blood, which cannot inherit the kingdom. What is born of the flesh is flesh. We must now be born again from mortal to immortality, otherwise we could not see the kingdom of God. Must not man be born of a woman in order to see this world? Can he look upon the beautiful objects of creation, or contemplate these countless wonders of the Almighty before he is born into being? He cannot. All without exception will admit, that it is impossible for any man to enter this natural world, in which we live, without birth. So it is equally impossible to enter the kingdom of God without being born _again_ in the strictest sense of the word. A man cannot "be born again" ten, or twenty years, nor even _one day_ before he sees the kingdom of God, any more than he could be born twenty days before he came forth out of the womb. As natural birth cannot take place any given time before we enter this world, but is the _circumstance_ that introduces us, so a _second birth_ cannot take place any given time before we enter the kingdom of God in the next world but is the _very thing_, that shall introduce us into it; and the moment we are born again, we shall see it,--we shall be spirit, and beyond the dominion of death and sin. He that is born of the flesh, _is flesh_, so long as he lives; and he that is born of the spirit _is spirit_. As we now "bear the image of the earthly" through a _natural_ birth, "so we shall also bear the image of the heavenly" through a _spiritual_ birth. And as no man in this world is a spirit, so no man has in reality passed the new birth. When we were born into this world, we were brought from insensibility to an existence entirely new. So in order to enter the kingdom of God, which is not of this world, we must be born again from the insensibility of death into a new and happy existence beyond the grave. The question now arises, when does this new birth take place? We reply when this mortal puts on immortality through a resurrection. When we shall be aroused from the sleep of death to a precipient existence in heaven--when we shall awake satisfied with the likeness of God. Paul, in the xv. Chap. 1 Cor. Plainly states that the spiritual body is prepared and put on after death. Birth then must _follow_, not _precede_ that spiritual body. It is impossible that birth should take place, till the body is first prepared. Man's natural body is organized in the womb, and then born into this world. He drops to a state of insensibility in death, a reorganization of the spiritual body takes place to the natural eye imperceptible, and its nature indestructible. It is gradually brought forward through a resurrection similar to the grain of wheat to which Paul compares it, is awakened to a conscious existence, and bears the image of the heavenly as it once bore the image of the earthy. The resurrection is therefore every moment progressing, and every man is raised in his own order of time. But says the reader, if the resurrection be the new birth, then Christ, himself must have been born again, in order to enter the kingdom of God! Certainly. But inquires the reader, where do the scriptures teach that Christ was ever born again? In Colossians chap. i:15. are these words--"Who [Christ] is the image of the invisible God, the _first born_ of every creature." This cannot mean that he was the first born into this state of existence; but he was the first one whom human eyes ever saw alive beyond the destruction of death to die no more, and the only one that mortal eye will ever see, for he arose in his natural body, (being the only true witness, appointed of God,) to bring life and immortality to light through the gospel. But that passage, says the reader, does not satisfy me, that Christ was born again. Then listen once more--verse 18--"who is the beginning, the _first born_ from the dead that in all things he might have the pre-eminence." Rev. chap. i. 5. "Jesus Christ the faithful witness, and the _first begotten_ from the dead." Here it is plainly stated that he is the "first born from the dead" "the _first begotten_ from the dead" These scriptures in connexion with several others, that might be quoted, prove that Christ was born again, and that the resurrection is called birth. It is evident that man falls to a state of insensibility in death, and remains in sleep while the spiritual body is forming out of those subtle materials, that at death pass into _hades_; and when the reorganization is completed, the new being is born into the kingdom of immortal glory. A drowning man, we know, falls to a state of unconsciousness. Fainting--yes, even a night's sleep proves that the mind is susceptible of falling into insensibility, or suspending its mental operations, and disproves the notion of its entering a future state, only through a resurrection of the dead. This fact is not only substantiated by reason, but it is the doctrine of Revelation. The wise man says, "the dead know not any thing." Paul, in the xv. Chap. 1 Cor. Predicates the truth of our resurrection on the fact that Christ rose from the dead; and on this ground he reasons, that if there be no resurrection, then preaching is vain, faith is also vain, the christians were yet in their sins, and they that were fallen asleep in Christ were perished, and concludes by saying, "let us eat, drink, for tomorrow we die." Suppose a christian should this moment die, and, according to common opinion, enter immediately on an immortal existence. Could we now say--if there be no resurrection, he is fallen asleep in Christ and perished? No, because, instead of being perished, i.e. _Annihilated_, he would remain in infinite happiness and glory, even if there should, never, be any resurrection. So you perceive that Paul did not believe any one could enter eternity only through a resurrection. He believed, they would fall asleep in Christ, and in that sleep remain till in Christ they were made alive. He embraces the whole in the following words--"Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead." When the sentence of death was pronounced upon Adam, which was to pass upon all men, the promise of a Saviour then made, was, it appears, not understood. Their posterity looked forward for a temporal king, and had no idea of an immortal existence beyond the "narrow house." Death the king of terrors, was not yet disarmed of his sting by the resurrection of our triumphant Redeemer. This truth was not yet revealed to men. Here the human family were without hope, and trembling at the darkness--the seven fold darkness of the tomb. No ray of light and joy beamed from that cheerless mansion to ease the aching heart, or dispel that melancholy gloom, which pervaded the parental bosom when gazing for the last time upon the struggles of a dying child. Here was a world born into existence under the certain sentence of death, and groaning in the bondage of corruption, without any hope of being delivered from it, by an immortal birth, "into the glorious liberty of the children of God." In this period of anxiety and distress, the glad tidings were proclaimed to the shepherds on the plains of Judea, announcing the birth of the Saviour of the world. A new birth, which is not mentioned in the old Testament, was at length proclaimed by a Saviour in the _new_. He died on the cross, and was "the first born from the dead." He is the head of every man, by the grace of God tasted death for every man, and rose again for their justification. The scriptures declare that "we shall be saved by his life" that he is "the bread of God that cometh down from heaven and giveth life to the world." He is our way, our truth and life, and "because he lives we shall live also." "As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive," or born from the dead. And he that is made alive in Christ is a new creature, old things are passed away--all things are become new. But says the reader, though the resurrection of Jesus is set forth by a birth from death, yet the resurrection of the human family is never so represented. You mistake. Out of the many passage that might be adduced, we have room, in this discourse, for only one. It shall, however, be satisfactory. In Romans, 8th chapter, Paul says, "Because the creature itself also, shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God; for we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now." [We would remark, that the word _creature, is ktisis_ in the Greek, and is the same that is rendered _creation_ in the next verse.] In this quotation, you perceive, that Paul represents the whole creation as groaning in travail pains, and declares that the whole creation shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the sons of God. He compares them to a woman in pain ready for delivery; and that they are delivered from corruption to incorruption at the resurrection is certain. [See 1 Cor. xv:42.] You now understand what I mean by the new birth. It is to pass from death to life and immortality, in Christ, beyond the grave, where flesh and blood can never enter. For that which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the spirit is spirit. We have now pointed out the new birth, and shown that it bears some resemblance to the natural birth, with which Jesus compared it. And how truly sublime and cheering the thought, that the great family of man, who are all born into existence under the certain sentence of death, are to receive a second birth into an existence entirely new, and the whole of his dying family are to be made the children of Jesus Christ by adoption. In our next, we shall notice the change we experience in this life, called in scripture the new birth, and explain the term, "kingdom of God." SERMON IX "Jesus answered and said unto him, verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." John iii. 3. In our last, we have shown, that the _spiritual_ birth bears some resemblance to a natural birth with which Jesus compared it--and as the _first_ introduces us into this world, so the _second_ will introduce us into the future and immortal world at the resurrection, where we shall be as the angels of God in heaven, and "be the _children_ of God _being the children of the resurrection_." There we shall be completely free from sin and pain. There the gushing tear of sorrow shall cease to flow, and the brow of disconsolate humanity be ruffled no more. We will now attend to the present effects that the truth of this birth has upon us here, and notice at the same the phrase, "_kingdom of God_." The question now arises; do not some experience the new birth in this life? They do. But in what sense do they experience it? Ans. By _faith_. In this world we pass from death to life: not that we have actually been in the grave and brought to life beyond it; but the believer experiences this by faith. And _this faith_ has a most powerful and happifying influence on his affections, and consequently on his life and conduct. All, that God has revealed for the salvation of the world--our justification, our sanctification, our new birth, our heaven, our all--yes, all these important and heavenly changes are summed up, and embraced in our immortal resurrection, will actually take place through death; and while in this world we can embrace them, _only by faith_. The scriptures declare that "we walk by faith and, not by sight." Paul says, "the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me." Paul knew that he had eternal life given him in Christ, before the world began, and faith in that glorious truth produced a happiness--a divine life in his heart, called the kingdom of God within. Let us notice these several points. 1. First; "Christ rose again for our justification." Our justification then exists in our resurrection state, and will _there_ in all its reality take place. But cannot a man be justified _here_? Yes; he can be justified _through faith_ in that truth. 2. Second; "By the which will, we are _sanctified_ through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all." Our _sanctification_ then, by the will of God, will take place through death. But cannot a man be _sanctified_ while _here_? Yes; he can be sanctified _through faith in that truth!_ 3. Third; Christ was "put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the spirit." So in his resurrection he passed from death to life, and thus revealed the truth that we shall also pass from death to life by the power of God, and be like him who is the "first fruits." But cannot a man pass from death to life while on earth? Yes; he can pass from death to life _through faith in that truth_. Jesus says--"He that heareth my word and believeth on him that sent me hath everlasting life and shall not come into condemnation but is passed from death unto life." 4. Fourth; our eternal life will be realized beyond death. "The things that are not seen are spiritual and eternal." But can we not enjoy it _here_? Yes; "He that believeth on the Son _hath_ everlasting life;"-- that is, he enjoys it faith. 5. Fifth; Christ was the "first born from the dead." So we also shall pass the reality of the new birth by faith. But can we not enjoy it here? John says--"For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world, and this is the victory that overcometh world _even our faith_." Thus it is evident that a man may in this life be _justified, sanctified_, pass from _death to life, may enjoy eternal life_, and be _born again_ through faith in _these several correspondent facts_. His faith, however, can make them no more _certain_; because they _must exist_, and be solemn and unalterable facts before he can be called upon to believe them. The truth of the above _five facts_, we perceive, are embraced in our resurrection. If we are not, in our resurrection, to be _justified, sanctified, born again_, and obtain eternal life, then we cannot be _justified, sanctified or born again here_ through faith in those truths;--because there would be no such truths in existence for us to exercise faith in. If the objector will not allow these facts unalterably to exist _previous_ to believing, what then will he call upon us to believe? Will he call upon us to believe that we have an eternal life in Christ when no such fact exists, and contend that our believing this lie will create the fact? This would be the most ridiculous absurdity. But the truth exists, and the believer by faith enjoys it before hand. He enjoys it by anticipation, not in _reality_. It can be brought to his understanding or experience no other way, only through the gospel medium of faith. I challenge the objector to show me between the lids of the new Testament, any regeneration, new birth, justification, or sanctification, that has already taken place in any other sense than through faith. All these things in their _reality_ are to take place in our resurrection, when we shall be like the angels of God and by faith we bring them present to our minds and enjoy them _here_. Dr. Watts says--"Faith brings distant prospects home, Of things a thousand years ago, Or thousand years to come." Paul, therefore, exhorts us to forget the things that are behind, and reach forward to those that are before--to press to the mark &c. because the reality--the object of our faith lies before us. But persons, who do not understand the operations of faith on the mind in view of its correspondent truth, and who honestly believe that the new birth has in reality already taken place with them, are always looking back to the time they were born again, and telling over their "old experiences" Now this is right in them, if they have passed through the _reality_; for every man ought to look to the substance in which he exercises faith and hope. But certainly the scriptures exhort us to look forward, and anchor our faith and hope within the vail, where our forerunner hath for us entered. It is therefore certain that the reality exists there, and is yet to come. Such persons then, in looking back to their experience, are mistaking the birth produced by faith for the real birth itself. This is just as unreasonable as it would be to suppose that the foretaste, we sometimes enjoy of immortal life, was that life itself. It is true we at times enjoy a heaven on earth. But as it respects the kingdom of immortal glory, "eye hath not seen, ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive the glory that shall be revealed in us." The reality is therefore yet to come, and by faith we receive only an antepast of its joys. From the above observation we infer that, the resurrection is the only gospel faith and hope of a future, happy conscious state of being. When our minds are enlightened to see the mighty changes, that we mortals are represented, in the scriptures of truth, as destined to experience by being raised in a holy and deathless constitution, we are then led to consider the resurrection of embracing all those realities that we are called upon by Jesus Christ and his apostles to embrace by faith and enjoy in this life. So great and sublime is the gift of God, and so far surpassing thought does it magnify the perfections of the divine character, and in so amiable a light does it manifest his love to the children of men, that a living faith in its reality cannot but obtain a salutary influence on our life and conversation. So much stress did the apostles lay upon its importance, that they went every where preaching the resurrection of the dead, as the gospel of Christ. There is one point we will here notice. All denominations acknowledge that for any man _by faith_ to pass from death to life is a change for the better. If so, then the _reality_, namely to pass from the sleep of death to an immortal existence, must be a change for the better. Because it is by believing that future reality we are said to have passed from death to life here. The conclusion is unavoidable that the _reality_ must correspond with its antepast _by faith_. To understand this let us reverse it. Suppose it should be an established law in the nature and constitution of things that all mankind should pass from death to immortal misery in the future world. Let this be revealed and proclaimed as an unchanging truth. As many as believed it would of course pass from death to immortal misery in _faith_, which would lead them to curse the being who made them, and destined them to this unhappy end. It would be a change for the worse. Our subject is now so far plain (according to our views) that the phrase "_kingdom of God_" will be readily understood. Though it has, by different writers, been made to bear many different significations, yet we shall take the liberty to contend that it simply means as follows--1. First an immortal existence beyond the grave brought to light by the resurrection of Christ;--and 2. Second a belief in _that reality_ is the kingdom of God we here enter and enjoy _by faith_. Into this kingdom, infants, idiots and heathen and unbelievers do not enter, because faith is the only condition. This is the kingdom of heaven that men, blind leaders of the blind, shut up. They neither enter themselves, nor suffer those that would enter to go in. They keep the evidence of the reality out of sight so that men cannot look beyond the vail to its brighter glories and enjoy its peaceful reign in their hearts by faith. When faith is lost in certainty, _then_ this kingdom will be delivered up, and to know shall be life eternal. This definition we believe will hold good, and apply to any passage in the New Testament where it may occur. Though some contend that it very seldom has reference to an immortal existence, yet we strenuously contend that there is no propriety in the phrase only in connexion with such an existence. We cannot enter or be born into the kingdom of God by faith, unless we admit the reality in the first place to have an existence, any more than we could, by faith, enjoy eternal life unless there is such a reality as eternal life beyond the grave. The above, the reader will please to fix in his mind. We now perceive that man drops into the sleep of death, and that the resurrection, or new birth is his only hope of a future happy state of existence, and is the only change that can free him from imperfection, and sin, and make him a new creature in a new and immortal existence beyond the grave. We will here introduce an example to make our argument so far plain. Suppose you were now in ignorance respecting the doctrine of life and immortality through a resurrection. You know you must die, and sincerely think that death will terminate your existence forever. You see your children one after another laid upon their dying bed, and with distraction shake the farewell hand of eternal separation, and with the most solemn melancholy and wo, look forward to the period when you must follow them down to the chambers of eternal silence, and cease to be. In this moment of dread solemnity and gloom, suppose some kind angel should appear at the bed-side of your expiring child, and kindly inquire, why are you troubled? You answer, because my children have fallen!--the last of my infant train lies panting for breath, and the dreadful hour has come when all those silken affections, that build our hearts love, must be rent assunder, and in the awful bosom of death, be extinguished forever!--Suppose your guardian angel smiling over the ruins of death, should point you far beyond these changing scenes, and with rapture exclaim, you shall meet this darling child again and commingle with your little fallen flock in glory! You and they and all mankind shall be born from the dead into the kingdom of God, and be new creatures free from sin and pain, and "be the children of God being the children of the resurrection." Jesus your Lord "was the first born from the dead," and you shall pass from death to life and live forever. Now suppose you positively believed his words; could you not say in the scripture form of the expression that through faith you was already "passed from death to life?"--that you was born of faith, and by faith was in the kingdom of God? You certainly could, and it would in every sense of the word be true. Through faith, you would be justified, through faith sanctified; through faith you would enjoy eternal life--in fine, through faith you would be saved. This faith would give love unmeasured to your Creator, and fill your soul with joy unspeakable and full of glory. "Faith works by love, purifies the heart and overcomes the world." Reader, do you not love the Lord for his wonderful goodness to his children? What glorious hopes are here! "and he that hath this hope in him purifieth himself even as he is pure"--you now see why the gospel rings with the word _faith_ from one end to the other. The world previous to the coming of Jesus Christ had no knowledge of immortality through a resurrection, into the kingdom of God. The phrase "_born again_" is not mentioned in the Old Testament, and of course means something more than a _conversion_. This subject will be continued in our next. SERMON X "Jesus answered and said unto him, verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." John iii. 3. The literal rendering of this passage seems to be--"_except a man be born above_." The word _above_ being substituted for _again_ more forcibly demonstrates the correctness of my views in the two former discourses. Many charge the Universalists with denying the necessity of a new birth, or regeneration. But take from me my faith and hope in that glorious truth, and I must at that moment resign the salvation of every human being. Convince me that not another child will be born into this world, and you will at once convince me that this world will shortly be destitute of a solitary inhabitant. Convince me that a man will not be born again, and you will not only convince me that no one will ever enter the kingdom of God, but that the many worlds, that have already passed from the stage of mortal being, and those that shall hereafter follow, will alike be consigned to eternal silence! Endless misery is out of the question. That could have had no existence even had there been no resurrection in _Him_ who is the life of the world; but death would have terminated the existence of all. Such a punishment is not threatened in all the writings of Moses and the prophets. And we cannot reasonably suppose, if such were a principal truth in revelation, that God would suffer four thousand years to elapse without warning his creatures of such an awful doom. Upon our first parents, for transgressing the law, he pronounced all the miseries of life, and uttered the closing sentence, "Dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return." Here the doctrine of endless misery (if that be the sentence of the violated law) ought to have been clearly stated to the "covenant head" of our race, so that the same sentence might pass upon all that have sinned, unless they complied with the conditions set before them. But we leave this point, and will notice the 5th verse which may, perhaps, be considered as an objection to my views, and urged as proof that the new birth is wholly confined to this life. "Except a man be born of _water_, and of the spirit," &c. What is here meant by "_water_"? Ans. Baptism by immersion. This, instead of being an objection to my views, will strengthen them. Baptism in water is nothing more than a _figure_ of our death and resurrection, by _which_ we manifest our _faith_ in the resurrection of the dead, by which _faith_ our hearts are baptized into the spirit and truth of the gospel of Christ. Paul says, I Cor. xv:29 "Else what shall they do, which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? Why are they then baptized for the dead?" Baptism being only a _figure_ of our death and resurrection, is perhaps, in a gospel sense, of but little consequence to christians in the present day. Christ went to John and was baptized of him in Jordan. His being put under water signified his death, when the condemning power of the law under the first dispensation should lose its force--and his being raised out of the water signified his resurrection from the cold Jordan of death to immortal life in the kingdom of God, where the victory shall be sung over _death and sin_; and over the _law_ which "is the strength of sin." Having passed in figure through his own death and resurrection, and having manifested to man that he was baptized by the Holy Spirit into the faith and "powers of the world to come," he perfectly lived up to his obligation, by never committing one sin. He went through life free from transgression as though he were already in eternity. When his crucifixion hour approached, he said, [Luke xii:50] "I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened" [Greek--pained] "till it be accomplished." Here he had reference to his being buried in death, (which was to be attended with extreme sufferings) and rising again from it, which would be the _reality_ of which his baptism in Jordan was but a _figure_. To be put under water signifies our _death_, and to be raised out again signifies our _resurrection_. A person, who is baptized, ought therefore, to endeavor, as much as in him lies, to live as though he were already in his resurrection state. Enjoying in faith the baptism of the "Holy Spirit and of fire," he ought to consider himself as dead to the world and alive to God walking in newness of life. Let us introduce Rom. vi:3, 4. "Know ye not that so many of us as were baptized into Jesus Christ, were baptized into _his death_? Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death; that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life." Here we perceive they were baptized into his death, and were rejoicing in hope of the _resurrection_, having their hearts purified faith in the reality, Acts xxii. 16 And now why tarriest thou? Arise, and be baptized, and wash away thy sins, &c. Now, it is not only a scripture doctrine, but all denominations acknowledge, that baptism in water is an _emblem_ of the washing away of our sins. We then ask--are our sins to be wished in a stream of water? No. Where then? The objector says, our sins are taken away _in this life_ by the baptism of the "Holy Spirit and with fire." This cannot be; because Paul told the believers that if there were no resurrection, their faith was vain, and they were _yet in their sins_. [See I. Cor. xv. 17.] This proves that believers receive the forgiveness of their sins in this life _by faith only_, not in _reality_. The question returns, are our sins washed away in a stream of water? No. Where then? Ans. Through death and the resurrection, for that is the real baptism. And it is certain that the _reality_ must embrace all that the _figure_ in water teaches. We then solemnly ask the reader,--if baptism in water is a _figure_ of our death and resurrection, and if _that water baptism_ signifies the washing away of our sins, will not then our sins be washed away through death and the resurrection? Yes; otherwise the figure in water has no meaning. Thus we perceive that being born of the water is no objection to our views of the new birth, but affords them an unshaken support. If any one contend that the sins of our race are not to be taken away through death, we would then ask, where will the christian's sins be washed away? The scriptures declare that there is not a just man upon earth that doeth good and sinneth not,--and if there is no change through death then there will not be a just man beyond the grave that doeth good and sinneth not. But the baptism "with the Holy Spirit and with fire" in all its solemn and interesting reality will take place in death and the resurrection, and to exercise a living faith in that truth, so as to influence our life and conduct according to the spirit of the gospel, is what the scriptures term being baptized with the spirit and with fire in this life. But this present enjoyment is not the _reality_, but an antepast of _that reality_; because "we walk by faith and not by sight." It is immaterial whether the scripture speaks of _pardon, of justification; of sanctification, of redemption, of regeneration, or baptism_ "with the Holy Spirit and with fire," it simply means that those facts in the divine counsels unchangeably exist, and will burst upon the whole groaning creation in the resurrection world, while the believer only enjoys them in this state of being through faith, which baptizes him into the spirit of Christ. But if there be no resurrection, and nought is presented to our anticipation but the dreary prospect of a beamless eternity, then "preaching is vain," "faith is also vain," "christians are yet in their sins," "and they that are fallen asleep in Christ are perished." The taking away the sin of the world by the Lamb of God, who is the resurrection and the life, is through death. Through death, to our faith and hope, he has destroyed "him who hath the power of death, that is the devil." The washing away of all sin, by the power of God, is through death and the resurrection. _Then_ and not till then shall the song of triumph be sung by redeemed millions--"O death! Where is thy sting? O grave! Where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law", &c. All the figures of baptism point to _death_--all the sacrifices for sin, slain under the law for 4000 years, point to death, declaring that without the shedding of blood there is no remission. There the reality lies. There we are called upon to anchor our faith and hope even within the veil. And it must be a _certain truth_ that our sins are to be washed away through the Jordan of death, before we can be called upon to believe it. It must be a _certain reality_ that sin is there to be purged away, before we could, with any propriety, use baptism in water as a shadow of it; because the _shadow_ cannot create the _substance_. We have now shown that as man is naturally born into this world, so he shall be spiritually born into the kingdom of God. We have shown by comparison that except a man be born of a woman, he cannot see this world; and as this does not mean that he must be born twenty days before he comes forth from the womb, as a preparation for entering this world, so the expression, "except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God," does not mean that he must be born twenty days before death as a preparation for entering a future existence. The new birth, no more means a _reality_ that is to transpire _here_, than natural birth means some change we underwent prior to our being brought forth into life. I believe in all the reformation or new birth here that others do, and believe in much more to come. That change _here_, which they call the new birth, I call the new birth in faith, or being born of faith, while the solemn reality is yet to transpire, and that is to be born from the dead in Christ our head. These facts we will now make plain to every reader by the following example, so that our views on this subject may not be misrepresented. Suppose that before we were born, we had been able to conceive ideas. And suppose it had been spoken to us by the Son of God--except you are born of the flesh, you cannot see the natural world, which is most beautiful to to behold, having sun, moon, and stars, and songsters, fields and groves. It has never entered your heart to conceive the glory to be revealed in you. Now suppose some of us had believed this revelation, we would that moment, have been born of faith, and rejoiced in hope of the glory to be revealed in us; and by faith have looked forward to the reality. This, however, would not have made our birth any more certain, because it must have been an absolute truth before we could have, with any propriety, believed it. Suppose, further, that some of us had rejected it; would this circumstance have prevented our being born? Certainly not. All of us, who believed, would have been born of faith, having an earnest of the reality, and the unbelievers would have come short of that enjoyment by faith; but their unbelief could in no sense make the truth of none effect. The moment we were born, belief and unbelief would be lost in certainty. Now suppose that some of had said--the Son of God has declared "except we are born of the flesh, we cannot see the natural world." This must mean some great change we are to experience in the womb--we must be born some number of days before we enter the natural world, as a preparation, otherwise we can never see it. We now ask the reader, whether it would not be folly to give to the word _birth_ such an explanation? The Conclusion is unavoidable. We then ask, whether it does not involve the same folly to contend, in view of our text, ("except a man be born again, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God") that it means, he must be born again in this world, as a preparation for another? It certainly does. We once more repeat it--that as natural birth was the _very thing_ that introduced us all into this world of imperfection, sorrow and pain; so the spiritual birth will be the _very thing_, that shall introduce us all into another, where, imperfection, sorrow and pain shall be no more. The poor heathen, and infants, and all, will therefore be born again into the kingdom of God, and "be equal unto the angels, die no more, and be the children of God, _being the children of the resurrection_." The only advantage we enjoy above them is, that we have heard the good news, believed it, are "born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God which liveth and abideth forever," and "have entered into rest." We are rejoicing in hope of the glory of God to be revealed in us, while they are groping in darkness, inasmuch, as they cannot believe in him of whom they have not heard. In our next, we shall close this subject by urging the importance of the new birth through faith in the truth. SERMON XI "Jesus answered and said unto him, verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." John iii. 3. In our last three discourses we have endeavoured to lay our views of the new birth thus far plainly before the reader, and wish him to bear in mind that the three sermons, preceding those on the new birth, are also to be read, and carefully kept in view, so that, from the whole connexion, the gospel doctrine of salvation by _faith_ may be made clear to his understanding. We dwelt so long, and laid so much stress upon _faith_, because it is the _first_ christian grace, we are exhorted to put on, and is the _first_ assent of the mind to the great and interesting _truth_ revealed in the gospel of Jesus Christ, which is _life and immortality_ for the human family. We have shown that the new birth has a higher signification than simply to be converted from the evil of our doings, as was required under the first dispensation. The new birth, so far as it concerns the present existence, embraces not only _conversion_, but the whole spiritual life of the christian's soul, denominated the kingdom of heaven within. This mental felicity--this "weight of glory," cannot be enjoyed, but by the exercise of a living faith in Christ. Such a faith begets a sincere obedience in our life and conversation. It is a faith "that works by love, purifies the heart and overcomes the world." The great apostle to the Gentiles exclaims--"the life that I now live in the flesh, I live by the _faith_ of Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." We therefore "walk by _faith_, not by _sight."_ We have shown that Christ was the _"first born_ from the dead" to show light to the people and to the Gentiles, and that the whole creation is groaning in travail-pains, and that it shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God, and that we shall then be as the angels of God in heaven. We have shown that all mankind--infants, idiots and heathen, shall be brought to realize this birth, and that the believer, only, can only enjoy it in this state of existence through _faith_ in the truth, and that this _faith_ has a most powerful influence on his life and conversation, "being born of incorruptible seed by the word of God that liveth and abideth forever." We have shown that neither this birth, nor any of the spiritual changes, can be experienced in this life only through _faith_ in their correspondent truths, even as they are revealed to us in the gospel of Christ. We have shown that by the phrase, "kingdom of heaven" we were to understand, _first_, a holy, happy and immortal existence "beyond the grave, incorruptible, undefiled and that fadeth not away, reserved for us in heaven," and which, with all its perfections and joys, was revealed to us by Jesus Christ; and _second_, a sincere and living _faith_ in this interesting _reality_, produced that divine enjoyment, called "the kingdom of heaven within us," the kingdom of heaven among men, &c. This kingdom the Pharisees "shut up"--they "neither entered it themselves, nor suffered those that were entering to go in." That is--they prevented the people from _believing_ those interesting _realities_--those sublime doctrines of a future world that their Messiah had brought to light through the gospel for the present happiness of men. We have shown that water baptism is but a _figure, a shadow_ of our death and resurrection, or of the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit, and that this figure is of but little consequence to us in this present day. In fine we have shown that if there were no future existence--if nought were held up to man but the dreary prospect of a beamless eternity, he could not be justified, sanctified, born again, pass from death to life or enter the kingdom of God through faith, because in such case the _objects_ of his _faith and hope_ would be annihilated, his faith would be vain, he would be yet in his sins. In this view of our subject, we perceive that Christ is but "the author and finisher of our faith," having been ordained of God "to bring life and immortality to light," to set us an example for our imitation and happiness here below--and to die and rise in attestation of the truth involved in his mission. Consequently his kingdom will be delivered up when _faith and hope_ shall be lost in certainty and joy. It now remains that we urge the importance of the _new birth_ through faith in the truth. And here we shall probably meet with one objection from the reader, viz. As we argued in sermons, No. 5, 6, and 7, that faith was the first exercise of the creature, and that no one could _believe or disbelieve_ what he pleased, the reader may then ask, what necessity is there of urging the importance of the new birth through faith in the truth, in as much as faith cannot be exercised at the _pleasure_ or simply at the _will_ of man? And here we would remark-- that the guilt of unbelief does not consist in rejecting a fact after patient investigation, by collecting all the evidences in our reach, but it consists in rejecting a fact without examination of its truth. For instance; let the gospel be preached to a heathen, who rejects it without attempting to acquaint himself with the evidences upon which its truth is based. He is condemned for not believing, because he neglects the only means by which he might be convinced of the truth. He declines searching for evidence. Of the truth of this remark we have a striking instance in the scriptures. Paul preached at Thessalonica, but they heeded not his words. He preached also at Berea, and the inspired penman says, "These were more noble than those in Thessalonica, in that they received the word with all readiness of mind, and searched the scriptures daily whether these things were so." It is our duty to search the scriptures prayerfully and "labor to enter into that rest that remains to the people of God, lest any of us through unbelief should seem to come short of it." It is our duty to search for evidence of the fact, at least on all subjects relating to our present happiness, and particularly those that appertain to the future world. They are too momentous to be treated with indifference. There is nothing more important than that we should exercise a living _faith_ in a future and happy existence beyond the grave. This alone can afford the mind "joy unspeakable and full of glory." There is in every human bosom an unceasing uneasiness, an aching void that nothing on earth can satisfy or fill. Old and young, ignorant and learned, heathen and christian feel the same dissatisfaction with the objects of momentary duration. The heathen, in the midst of all his self-denials and self-tortures to appease his gods, and in the conscientious discharge of all his devotional duties, is still a dissatisfied and miserable being. God has so constituted the human mind that it cannot repose in error, however sincere may be the faith it exercises. There is still a growing vacuum within that nothing but the powers of truth can fill. Philosophy has endeavoured to search out that system of moral duties, in the rigid performance of which, that happiness, peace and joy might be found, for which all mortal beings pant with the same aspirations of strong desire, but has sought in vain. From the earliest ages, one system after another has been invented, and in succession abandoned, but all have come short of discovering any thing solid on which to rest their hopes of earthly felicity. Jesus Christ, the author and finisher of our faith, has alone accomplished what all the penetration of Pythagoras and all the moral lessons of Seneca and Socrates failed to discover. With a bold, firm and untrembling hand he has drawn aside the curtains of the tomb, and pointed the human family to a second birth from the dark womb of death into mansions of incorruptible felicity in the kingdom of God, where they shall die no more, and where all the inquietudes, appertaining to this fleeing existence, shall be unknown. This future state of being, he has not only revealed, but has demonstrated its certainty by those incontestable evidences, which can never be shaken by all the powers of infidelity combined. He has burst the icy bands of death and risen triumphant beyond its solemn shade, and begot in us those lively hopes, those fond desires, that ease the aching heart--that communicate unbroken peace amidst the various ills of life, and afford it divine consolation and joy in the trying moment of death. In those interesting truths the believer confides, and in every condition in life is enabled to rejoice in the hope that when "this earthly tabernacle is dissolved, he has a building of God, a house not made with hands eternal in the heavens." In this faith, man's countless wants are satisfied, inasmuch as God has secured his dearest interest. In this faith the believer is entered into rest, is born of God, and is translated into his kingdom. He _knows_ that by faith he has passed from death unto life, for his soul is filled with love to God and man. This love, this divine enjoyment, is the natural effect of _faith_, inasmuch as it works by love, purifies the heart and overcomes, the world. He is not only at rest respecting himself, but at rest respecting his children and dear friends, whom he may be called to follow to the land of silence and the shadow of death. He stands at their dying bed and whispers to them consolation, in the joyful assurance, that he shall meet them again beyond the dominion of death and pain in the regions of glory. His bosom is the mansion of those pure and holy affections and of those sublime hopes, that none can know but those who are thus born into the kingdom of God. Reader, you must die. How important then that you should faithfully and prayerfully examine the scriptures so that tormenting fears, distraction and despair may not in that solemn moment rend the peace of your bosom to atoms. A sweet peace and composure of soul in that trying hour, are of incalculable worth. It is enough to struggle with physical pain without the addition of mental woes, which present neglect, and your ignorance of the truth and consolations of the gospel of Christ, are sure to bring upon you. Perhaps you are a father, and may be called to stand at the death-bed of a beloved child. That child may call upon you as a parent to administer consolation to its departing spirit. He clings to life, or ardently desires to live forever in the mansions of rest beyond the grave. But what consolation can you impart, if you are yourself ignorant of the doctrines of the gospel of Christ? The heart-rending prospect of endless wo, or the gloomy horrors of annihilation, could afford no consolation to that mind, which has the principles of glory deeply rooted in its nature and which nothing but the continuance of existence can rationally satisfy. As you value unbroken peace in the hour of dissolution, and as you value the happiness of these dear pledges heaven has lent you, study for the evidence of christian truth, search the scriptures, and labor to enter into that rest that remains here to the believing people of God, who are born again and _specially_ saved through _faith_ in the truth. This labor is not only important in view of the solemn hour of death, but important in view of the life you here live in the flesh. Happiness is the ultimate pursuit of all mortal beings. They vainly imagine that it can be found in riches, honors and titles--yes, even imagine that it can be found in the hard ways of the transgressor. Though sensible that worlds before them have failed, and gone down to the grave with the pangs of disappointed hope, yet man is so strangely inconsistent as still to believe, that these earthly pursuits contain some hidden charm which he flatters himself he shall find even though all before him have failed. Here is the delusion, kind reader, of which you are cautioned to beware. There is no happiness but in the path where the hand of mercy has sown it--no happiness but in the objects where God has placed it. It is no where to be found but in the enjoyment of the religion of Christ. This will sweeten every earthly pursuit, make every burden light, afford solid enjoyment in life and divine consolation in the hour of death. Flatter not yourself that there is any happiness beneath the sun aside from this. "There is no peace saith my God to the wicked," and, he who says there is, contradicts Jehovah, and is yet "in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity." A speculative faith is of but little consequence, so long as it does not influence our life and conversation for the better. We must believe to the saving of the soul from the evil of the world. "Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thy righteousness shall go before thee, and the glory of the Lord shall be thy reward." SERMON XII "A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold." Prov. xxii:1. A good name involves all that can render man exalted and amiable, or life desirable. The good opinion of mankind has, in all ages, been considered as a blessing of the first magnitude, and has, in various ways, been sought for by all. There is no man so dishonest, but what labors to impress upon others the conviction of his honesty; no man so deceptive, but what wishes to be considered sincere; nor cowardly, but desires to be reputed brave; and no man is so abandonedly vicious, but what desires to be considered virtuous by his fellow creatures. All choose a good name in preference to a bad one. This being a fact the appearance of virtue is kept up where the reality is wanting, and the shadow is often mistaken for the substance. There are many, that are, at heart, insincere and false, who pass in society generally for persons of sincerity, candor and virtue, while their real principles are known only in their own families and among their confidential friends. They desire a good name and outwardly maintain it, while they in reality but little deserve it. In order to know what a man really is, we must be acquainted, not only with his public, but his private character. In his own family, every man appears what he really is. There the heart, word and action art in unison. They embrace each other. In public, they too often separate; and the word, or action, speaks what its divorced companion, the heart does not feel. Such not only literally choose, but often bear a good name. But this is not the choice suggested by the text. All men, even the most vicious, in some sense or other, choose a good name. But the passage under consideration has a higher, a nobler aim, than a mere choice unconnected with virtuous principle and action. It has a higher aim, than to encourage men to be rotten at heart, and by an outward, hypocritical maneuver, maintain a good name among their fellow creatures. By the text, we are to understand, that a man should early cultivate, in his heart, a virtuous principle, as the pure source from which all those outward actions spring that justly merit the esteem of mankind, force approbation even from the vicious, and thus entitle him to that good name which is far above all price. This will not only afford its possessor unbroken peace arising from the inward consolations and joys of virtuous sincerity, but it will also open to him another rich fountain of felicity, arising from the consideration, that he enjoys the confidence and esteem of the great and the good, with whom he is conversant in life, of his intimate friends, of his companion and children, and above all the smiles of kind heaven and the approbation of his God. His life is calm; his sleep is sweet and associated with golden dreams. No fearful spectres haunt his brain, but the kind angel of mercy is ever at his side. He looks forward to death undismayed, yes, with satisfaction and composure looks beyond that dark scene, to brighter worlds and more substantial joys. He feels the assurance, that even when he shall be here no more, his name shall live in the hearts of those he left behind, be embalmed in the memory of the just, and that it is beyond the power of rolling ages to sully it. This is what we understand by choosing a good name as stated in our text. Of the truth of this, there can arise no misapprehension when we compare it with the subsequent phrase with which it is contrasted--"a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor than silver and gold." By the choosing of riches, we are to understand, not only a desire to obtain them, but that this desire shall be sufficiently strong to prompt us to use all the honorable and efficient means in our power to accumulate them. The wise man did not mean that every man had the offer of a fortune, and could possess himself of it by simply making choice of it independent of means. No-- his choice must be manifested by industry and economy. The means must be used to secure the end. Just so in acquiring a good name. The person desirous of obtaining it, must pursue that upright and virtuous course of conduct, which alone could insure it. And just as well might a man expect riches by being indolent and extravagant, as to expect a good name by indulging in every species of vice. We are therefore to understand our text thus--A good name, through pursuing a virtuous course of conduct, is rather to be chosen than great riches, through the plans and means by which they are obtained. Man is a being of many wants, and to supply them he is too much inclined to forsake the path of virtue and resort to dishonorable means to obtain wealth. In view of this master-passion for earthly splendor and greatness, Solomon uttered the words of our text to recall the giddy mind from its chase of shadows, sad turn it to the only source of unmingled felicity in the pursuit of virtue. This would afford the mind those rational delights that wealth, with all its dazzling splendors, cannot impart. It does not possess the charm to convey unbroken peace to the heart. But there is a strong inducement to engage in a virtuous course, because it is the surest road to wealth and honor. The thief and robber were never rich, nor nor could they be happy if they were. An excellent writer, observes--the importance of a good character in the commerce of life, seems to be universally acknowledged. To those who are to make their own way either to wealth or honors, a good character is as necessary as address and ability. Though human nature is often degenerate, and corrupts itself by many inventions, yet it usually retains to the last an esteem for excellence. But even if we arrive at such an extreme degree of depravity as to have lost our native reverence for virtue, yet a regard to our own interest and safety will lead us to apply for aid, in all important transactions, to men whose integrity is unimpeached. When we choose an assistant or a partner, our first inquiry is concerning his character. When we have occasion for a counsellor, an attorney, or a physician, whatever we may be ourselves, we always choose to trust our property and lives to men of the best character. When we fix on the tradesman, who is to supply us with necessaries, we are we are influenced by fair reputation and honorable dealing. Young men, therefore, whose characters are yet unfixed, and who consequently may render them just such as they wish, ought to pay great attention to the first steps they take on entrance into life. They are usually careless and inattentive to this object. They pursue their own plans with ardor, and neglect the opinions which others entertain of them. By some thoughtless action or expression, they suffer a mark to be impressed upon them, which no subsequent merit can entirely erase. Every man will find some persons who, though they are not professed enemies, yet view him with an eye of envy, and who would gladly revive any tale to which truth has given the slightest foundation. Though a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and is the surest road to wealth, yet there are thousands, who pay but little attention to possess themselves of so valuable a treasure. They turn a deaf ear to that hallowed voice, which pleads with them in behalf of their dearest interest, and take the downward road to dissipation and vice, and, by their wretched example, lead other thousands to the dark abodes of sorrow, grief and pain. Enchanted by the siren voice of false and fleeting pleasure, they hurry to the tremendous precipice, where reputation and fortune lie in broken ruins. There they drag out a wretched existence in disappointed hope, satiety and disgust. They pay their devotions at the shrine of ignominy, where the dark and stagnant waters of guilt and condemnation roll. There the sweet voice of heaven-born peace was never heard, and the beauteous feet of religion never trod. There dwells the family of pain--there is the hell we are cautioned to avoid. This is not an illusion of fancy--it is no reverie of the brain, but a reality too visible in the pathway of human life. Thousands, in this condition, are hurrying to a premature grave, and go down to that dark abode covered with infamy, having robbed themselves of all the substantial joys, that a virtuous conduct, and a good unsullied name are calculated to awaken in the heart. Dissipation darkens the brightest prospects of life. It rolls its floods of misery indiscriminately over the dearest earthly hopes of companions, children and friends, and paralyzes every pulse of joy that beats in the human bosom. Many a child has been spurned from the presence of its brutal father, and been beaten for asking bread to satisfy its hunger. Intemperance stupefies man to the moral impressions of the gospel, and hardens the heart with the touch of its benumbing powers. It is the giant of human wo that slays his thousands and prostrates the happiness of man. This champion of human war draws his sword of vengeance against the balmy repose of public and private life, and his fatal touch withers the brightest flowers of domestic hope and joy, and mingles the poisonous bowl with the bitter drugs of misery. His government is absolute monarchy, and his subjects the most contemptible slaves. When he lays upon them his cursed hand, they reel to the ground. When he strikes the stunning blow, they drop insensibly to the earth. The oppressions and scourges of the most wretched slave are enviable in comparison with those severe wounds inflicted by this merciless tyrant, this infernal scourge of the human race. Intemperance is a monster that may well be personified. He frolicks through the blood, preys upon the vitals, ploughs up the brain, dethrones reason and laughs at the feeble resistance of the best constitution, and finally bears down all opposition before him. Like the devouring flame, he presses on with irresistible force, urging his deadly siege, till he consumes all that is fair and lovely in the eye of virtue. His present gifts are poverty misery and distress, and his capital prize, a premature grave. This champion is ravaging our beloved country, and seducing her sons of freedom to the disgraceful ranks of slavery and oppression. Intemperance is that tyrant that has under his control many formidable evils that infest the world. His boasted labor is to hurry on thousands of victims to the commission of crime, and bring down upon them the many misfortunes that attend man in this mutable world. Intemperance involves public broils, tumults and disturbances, and domestic discord, misery and strife. We trust the number among our readers is small, who are so regardless of a good name as to have abandoned themselves to the intoxicating bowl, or who have sundered all the ties of moral obligation, determined to tread the downward path of vice to a disgraceful tomb. We hope they have a higher regard to the invaluable worth of a good name; and we pray that they may venerate its price far above the momentary glitter of silver and gold. That shall live, when wealth shall have lost its lustre, and flourish immortal, when gold shall have corroded to dust. Blasphemy is another unreasonable vice against which the public speaker or writer should raise his voice. And let no one flatter himself because we believe in the universal and unbounded goodness of God, that a man may go on as he please. So long as a Being of infinite wisdom is enthroned in the heavens and governs the universe, so long he can never fail to measure out to every offence its adequate punishment, and has all the means at his disposal to bring it unavoidably upon the head of every transgressor. He, who flatters himself that he can sin with impunity, is ignorant of the government of his God, and has never reflected upon human life in all its varied lights and shades. Do you profess to be a Universalist, and yet treat with irreverence the name of HIM who made you, and whom you acknowledge to be a faithful Creator--an indulgent Father? Your professions are nothing. "He that hath this hope in him purifieth himself even as he is pure." That very breath by which he inflates the lungs, can you breathe it back in blasphemies against his holy name, which angels never pronounce but with veneration and awe? Choose, O choose a good name, which can only be obtained by choosing a virtuous course of conduct. However lightly you may treat your own station in life, or however much you may disregard the dignity of your nature, yet remember the station you hold, however obscure, is stamped with responsibility. You are surrounded by a generation of youth, among whom are your own children, ready to imitate your example. Do you wish them well! Then guard your heart and life by setting a reasonable value on a good name, and remember you cannot move without touching some string that may vibrate long after your head rests on its cold pillow of earth. SERMON XIII "A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold." Prov. xxii:1. In this discourse we shall more fully show why "a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches." Though wealth is desirable, and in many instances conducive to human happiness, because it puts it in our power to relieve the wants and distresses of our fellow creatures, yet it does not possess the charm to convey unbroken peace or solid joy to any bosom. The value, of anything within the range of human action, is to be estimated by its usefulness in promoting the happiness of man. That, which pours the most numerous and refined enjoyments into the soul, is to be considered of the greatest worth; and that, which has a tendency to bring upon us the most alarming miseries, misfortunes and woes, is of course the most worthless. The one is to be fondly chosen and pursued in proportion to its worth in administering to our enjoyments, and the other is to be avoided in proportion to its unhappy effects in multiplying our sorrows. This being an undeniable fact, the superlative value of a good name, procured by a virtuous course of conduct, appears, at once, to transcend all other considerations: A pure unsullied conscience before heaven is the most permanent bliss that a rational being can enjoy, and is of that enduring nature which no earthly power or misfortune can destroy. It supports us in the hour of adversity and trial; it comforts us in the dark hour of sorrow; it remains unmoved amids the storms of life, and lights up the smile of satisfaction on the lips of the dying. Nor is this all. It affords us other unruffled streams of unmingled felicity in the common intercourse of life. The approbation of the wise and the good, the confidence and esteem of our friends and associates, and the good opinion even of the vicious, are considerations of no ordinary moment. They awaken emotions in the heart of the most pleasing gratification, and open in the soul all the avenues of heaven-born felicity, imparting that peace, which this world can neither give nor take away. But as it respects _wealth_, we would remark, that though it may communicate happiness by enabling us to relieve the wants of our fellow creatures, and afford us many joys in the indulgence of our benevolence, yet it cannot of itself communicate happiness, but virtue can. A wicked and unprincipled man is wretched, though he roll in all the wealth and splendors that earth can give. He feels in his bosom a _burning flame_, that all the streams of wealth can never quench, and a _craving desire_, that nought on earth can gratify. If his "great riches" afford him any enjoyments, yet these are by no means permanent and lasting. The desolating flame may lay them in ruins--the storms on the ocean may sink them in its waves--the famine or blighting mildew may wither them forever, and leave him stript of all his fancied joys. But nothing of this can happen to virtue. That remains forever unharmed amidst the shocks of earth. A good name is, therefore, of inconceivably more value than riches and rather to be chosen than silver and gold. We are formed for society. God in beginning said, "it is not good that man should be alone." This being a fact, which all past experience, and the history of our whole race demonstrate, it is, therefore, equally true, that our dearest enjoyments flow from the social affections and from a sincere cultivation of the social intercourse of life. There is, perhaps, not a human being in existence, who would accept of all the wealth of the Indies on the condition that he should not be respected by a single individual on earth. This circumstance shows us, in noonday light, the superior value of a good name above all the glittering appendages of wealth. Every man is beloved and esteemed in proportion to his goodness and usefulness in the world, particularly by those with whom he associate in life. If then to _love and be beloved_ depend on our conduct in the world, and if at the same time, our happiness is derived from the exercise of reciprocal affection, we see the importance of pitching upon that course of life, which alone can secure those solid pleasures resulting from a well spent life. Too many persons suppose, they can be happy in sin; yes, even in criminal indulgence. But that transgressor was never yet found, who could point to a single wicked act in his life, the remembrance of which ever imparted one solitary gleam of joy to his heart. They may fancy there is happiness in sin; but here is the deception. It is immaterial what some may preach about _the pleasures of sin_, and _the satisfaction the transgressor often takes in a wicked course_, yet all this amounts to nothing so long as the voice of heaven declares, "THERE IS NO PEACE, SAITH MY GOD, TO THE WICKED." Infinite wisdom _must know_, and infinite wisdom, _has given_ the decision, and that decision is stamped with immortality, and from it there is no appeal. If we impress the sinner with the idea that he is not punished and rewarded _here_, but that the whole is to be settled in the future world, then we, in the same proportion, weaken the force of virtue and _strengthen_ the cause of vice. And this is one obvious reason, why men continue in sin, as long as they dare, expecting at some future day to repent and escape _all punishment_. They go on from day to day, and from year to year, with all the thunders of endless and immortal pain sounded in their ears, and even believing it true, yet continue to indulge in sin. Would they run such an awful risk, unless, by a certain course of education, they had been made to believe that there was happiness in transgression? No. If they believed that sin had nought to impart but misery, they would abandon it for its _own sake_; because happiness is the object of all men. They have, therefore, by some means or other, been led to the strange infatuation, that sin possesses some secret charm to communicate that happiness to the soul, for which every bosom throbs. This fancied happiness, they vainly imagine, they can obtain by wallowing in the dark waters of iniquity, be happy _here_, then repent at last, and be happy _hereafter_. As they pass along in their wretched career, expecting every moment to grasp the fancied pleasure, yet the fond, anticipated phantom flies from their embrace and leaves them in the ruin of their joy. Though disappointed again and again, yet firmly believing that there is happiness in sin, they again push on, and thus far attribute their want of success to some miscalculation. Insensible of the nature of sin, blinded and self-deceived, they go on in pursuit of pleasure, while golden dreams of false felicity fire their imaginations, till at last, age places them on the verge of the grave; their object no nearer attained than it was the day they set out, while habit has fixed them in a course, that has yielded them nothing but sorrow and pain, and vanity and vexation of spirit. Stung with remorse, and pierced through with many sorrows, they breathe a repentance, which, the nature of their condition, forces upon them, are perhaps pronounced _converted_, and they sink into the darkness of death! Their names, covered with infamy, are soon blotted from the remembrance of the living! We observed, a moment ago, that the idea, of holding up a retribution in the future world, weakens the force of virtue, and strengthens the cause of vice. This has, perhaps, been abundantly shown in the arguments already offered as being manifest in the daily conduct of men; yet we will, in a word, bring the subject plainly before you. To persuade a sinner that he is to be punished in the _future_ world for his sins in _this_, is plainly saying that sin has many pleasures and conveniences _here_, and so far as it failed of rendering him his due desert, the balance is to be made up in another state of being. Because the balance of punishment due him _there_, is to make up the _deficiency_ of punishment, which sin did not pay him here. And certainly, so far as sin did not pay him _here_, he must have been happy in its commission. And the _expectation_, that he should be happy in it _here_, was the _very cause_ that induced him to continue in transgression, with the expectation of repenting and escaping punishment _hereafter_. Thus he flattered himself, that he could sin with impunity, and escape its punishment in this world and the world to come. And to satisfy a man that he is to be rewarded in the _future_ world for his righteousness in _this_ but persuading him, that virtue is attended with misery, and that so far as it failed to reward _here_, the balance is to be made up _hereafter_. Because the balance of happiness due to him _there_, is to make up the deficiency of happiness which virtue did not pay him _here_. And so far as virtue did not pay him here, must have been miserable in its practice. And the impression that sin is productive of many enjoyments, and that righteousness is attended with misery, has a tendency to make him choose the _former_ and reject the _latter_, and trust to a future repentance. We often hear it proclaimed by those, who profess to be the guardians of the public morals, that the righteous have a hard course in warring against the corruptions of their heart, in the service of God, while the sinner goes on unconcerned and easy in the pleasures of sin. In doing this they defeat the very object, they are striving to obtain, which is the _conversion_ of the sinner. These very impressions are one obvious reason why so many continue in sin and reject the path of righteousness and peace, which alone conducts to a good name, that is of more worth than great riches, and more durable than silver and gold. As then there is no happiness in vice, as all its allurements are deceptive and vain, how important that we should shun it, and pursue that bright path of virtue and peace, which will lead to the invaluable possession of a good name. Engaging in the cultivation of all the better affections of the heart, we shall by habit so refine our natures, that "loving favor" will take entire possession of our minds, and mould them into the spotless image of heaven. _This_ loving favor is rather to be chosen than silver and gold, for these will corrupt, and at last crumble into dust, while _this_ shall survive the ruins of death, and flourish in those peaceful realms, where our felicity will be unbroken and perpetual. Flatter not yourselves with the vain hope, that there is one solitary thrill of joy in the indulgence of sin. He, who indulges in dissipation and vice--he, who slanders his neighbor, who wrongs his fellow men, or even utters one oath against the unsullied name of his Maker, is a most profound unbeliever in the sentiment we proclaim. He, who possesses a hope so full of immortality as to believe, that God will finally save from sin, and bless him and all his fellow men, will cleanse his hands and wash them in innocency. Tell me not that you are a Universalist, when the very oceans of God's goodness do not affect your heart, nor lead you to repentance. He, who is satisfied that there is no happiness in sin, will abandon it. He, who deliberately pursues a vicious course, expects to find happiness in it; and it is impossible that he believes in God's _universal grace_. It is absolutely impossible in the very nature of things, that he can be a UNIVERSALIST. A salvation from sin is the doctrine of the Bible, and holiness itself heaven. He, who believes such a salvation to be happifying, will abandon sin, as the enemy of his peace, and seek righteousness, which alone can afford him tranquillity. Jesus says, the kingdom of heaven is righteousness and peace. If you wish to satisfy men that you _really_ desire the whole human family to meet in heaven, then show your sincerity by being righteous yourself. A sincere Universalist believes sin to be the cause of many mental woes that darken the world, and the principal cause of the greater proportion of sufferings that fall to the lot of man. He believes that a virtuous course of conduct, guided by the burning lamp of revelation, leads to those joys that time cannot sully, nor the hand of death extinguish. A conviction of this truth leads him to hate sin, to forsake its dark dominions, and enter those fields of felicity, where the brilliant beams of virtue shed a cloudless day. Here he walks and enjoys an antepast of heaven. Its paths are the paths of peace. All its ways are pleasantness and delight. Its crystal streams are pure and sweet; its breezes healthful and its fruits delicious. He believes God to be the father of his creatures--that he governs the world in wisdom and mercy--that he created with a benevolent intention, and that he is not disappointed in the workmanship of his hand, but presides over just such a world as he designed it should be. He believes that this order of things, though dark to him, is designed for good, and shall terminate in the happiness of all. He believes that all rewards and punishments are instituted for some benevolent end, and that this end, will be brought about in such a manner as to manifest to all, the divine perfections in the clearest light, and shed unfading glory on the supreme Majesty of heaven. This faith gives him confidence in his heavenly Father, and fills his heart with gratitude and veneration. It leads him to look upon the human family as his brethren, and to do them good. He seeks their happiness, and thus chooses and merits a good name. At peace with all mankind, his mind irradiated with light and enlarged with the most noble conceptions of the divine character and government, bout, he at length lies down in peace and composure upon his dying bed, and gently breathes out-- "Farewell conflicting joys and fears, Where light and shade alternatedwell; A brighter, purer scene appears, Farewell inconstant world, farewell!" He sweetly sinks to rest, and leaves behind him a good name, that can never die, and an example, for others to imitate, worth more than fortunes in gold. His memory shall survive, when the tomb, on which it is inscribed, shall crumble into ruin, and his example be a light to future generations. SERMON XIV "Be of the same mind one towards another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate." Romans xii. 16. That mysterious and incomprehensible Being, who gave us existence, has sown in our nature the seeds of mortality. By the irresistible _laws_ of his empire which he has, from the beginning, _established_ for the regulating of the animal creation, we are soon to be carried to the silent grave. All, without exception, are formed out of equal clay, are subject to the same hopes and fears, joys and sorrows while on earth, and are all destined to the slumbers of death, where we must exhibit the emblem of perfect equality. Immaterial how far one may exalt himself above another while passing through this momentary existence--immaterial how far he may rise above his fellow men in the scale of intellect and refinement--immaterial how exalted the station he may have obtained--how brilliant the powers of his imagination may sparkle, or how soft and sublime his eloquence may flow--immaterial how nobly soever he may dazzle in the sunny smiles of fortune, or how secure he may repose in the fond embrace of friends, yet it is a melancholy truth, that he must, sooner or later, resign the whole, let go his eager grasp on all those pleasing joys, bid an everlasting farewell to those exalted splendors, and descend to the dark shades of death, where the rich and the poor, the servant and his master, the oppressor and oppressed, all lie mouldering and forgotten together. This solemn consideration, it seems, when forcibly presented to the mind, ought to be sufficient to check the levity of man--to soften his bosom to his fellow beings--to moderate his desire in pursuit of wealth and greatness, and completely to unarm him of all hostile feelings towards those with whom he associates, and with whom he is so soon to lie down in death. This, it seems, is sufficient to make us of one heart and mind in promoting each other's happiness and welfare in the world, and to make us obedient to the exhortation of the text, not to mind the high things of earth, but to condescend to men of low estate. But such is the strange infatuation of man, that he acts as though his residence on earth were eternal, and as though the whole errand of life consisted in providing for an eternity below. We are capacitated for enjoyments of a higher and more perfect nature than we can attain to on earth. Of this we are sensible from the fact, that there is no condition in which we can be placed here below, that is so adapted to our nature as to afford us permanent satisfaction. Uninterrupted felicity is not a plant of earth. It cannot flourish in a clime where the blighting storms of malice and envy wither all that is fair, sweet and blooming. And though we are sensible that such is the fact, yet, deaf to all that experience, example and observation conspire to teach, we are exerting all our powers to obtain it here below, where the united voice of earth and heaven assure us it cannot be found. We cast our eyes around us, and see the human family in every varied condition of life from the beggar on his bed of straw, up to the king in regal splendor on the throne of nations; but in defiance of this immense distinction, they alike breathe the deep sigh of discontent. We also cast our eyes over the historic page, and scan the general fate of man in by-gone ages; but here too, we learn the same lesson, that no _external condition_ has ever added to the rational enjoyments of the soul. We see the same uneasiness, the same longing desires pervade every bosom. Our object is happiness; and amidst all the various pursuits of life, what is the reason so many fail of obtaining it? The answer is readily given. We make riches, honors and the high things of the earth our chief pursuit and aim, and fondly imagine that our happiness lies in them. Here is our error. Man is destined to a world of mental felicity, where those external pursuits of fortune will be unknown; where all that he here pursues with so much eagerness will be removed from his desires forever, and where all the channels of the soul will be opened to the true fountain of felicity and completely ravished in its flowing streams. In order, therefore, to enjoy that happiness, in this momentary state of being, which God has placed within our reach, we must make mental felcity the main pursuit of life, and the riches and conveniences of earth our secondary pursuit. We must completely reverse our conduct in order to obtain those rational enjoyments, that flow from the virtuous habits and dispositions. We must, as Jesus says, "seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you." Food and raiment are all that we can enjoy of the external comforts of life. All other enjoyments must be of a mental character. Secure first your mental joys, a pure unsullied conscience in the punctual discharge of all your social and relative duties to mankind, and be you rich or poor, you will be happy. The righteous discharge of this first great duty will not embarrass you in obtaining the comforts of life, but on the contrary aid you. A peaceable and honest course of conduct towards others--a condescension to men of low estate--a due respect for the opinions and rights of others, will endear you to all, and not only foster in your bosom the seeds of peace and contentment, but will conduct you in the surest path to wealth and honor. The mental powers of the soul are all that exalt our capacity for happiness above a brutal creation. And if our chief happiness lies in gold, which can only minister to our animal wants, then the brutes can vie with us in all the solid enjoyments of life. In fact, they can go beyond us. They graze the turf, and drink the unmingled stream free from anxiety and care. While man, the lord of this lower creation, has to toil and gain the same enjoyments by the sweat of his brow. But what a groveling thought to bring our exalted natures and capacities for happiness down to a level with theirs! On this principle, he who is the most wealthy is the most happy. Virtue is but a name, and all the exalted principles of noble and godlike action are but the reveries of fancy, and to practice them is but a visionary dream. No, my friends, wealth supplies our animal wants, and if virtue be wanting, it leaves our minds in wretched starvation and our brightest joys in night! Happiness is equally attainable by the rich and the poor. It consists in a union of heart among mankind, in a union of action in the pursuit of virtue, and in the kindlier feelings of our nature. In fine, it consists in a willing obedience to the exhortations of our text: "Be of the same mind one towards another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate." To each of these exhortations, we will give a candid and solemn consideration. In this sermon, we will attend to the exhortation--"_Be of the same mind one towards another_." By this, we are not to understand that men are to be of one heart and mind in pursuing the same occupation or profession in life, but of one mind in endeavoring to promote each other's happiness in every condition in which they may be placed--of one mind in the practice of christian duty, and in the exercise of charity. Selfishness produces many jarring interests among mankind, bursts the bands of brotherhood asunder, and weakens the strength of that nation, society or family among which it exists, and in proportion to the opposition it produces among its individual members. "United, we stand, divided we fall," is a maxim full of wisdom, and is not only applicable to nations, but to communities, societies, and even to families. A family in discord is a sight over which angels might weep, but when united in one heart and mind, it is a picture over which heaven smiles. The fond and doating father, the tender and affectionate mother, and obedient children, all united in peace and harmony, present to the mind those pleasing conceptions of the reconciled family immortal, that cause us to feel all the burning emotions of which the heart is susceptible. In such society as this, are enjoyed the happiest moments of our existence--moments unmingled with the bitterness of regret, unsullied by the corroding hand of time, unruffled by the perplexing cares of life, and undarkened by the tempests of indisposition. Is such a father absent--far distant on land or ocean where duty calls? The heart of his family goes with him, and he too leaves his heart lingering behind. His companion counts the moments as they slowly roll--is faithful to his interests--makes preparation to receive him--sighs for his safe return, and welcomes him home with those emotions of ecstatic joy, that cause him to forget his past labors, toils and dangers. Is he stretched upon a bed of pain? Unwearied she sits beside him, hushes every sound that might interrupt his broken slumbers, and watches every breath he draws. She whispers to him the soothing words of encouragement and consolation-- gives neither sleep to her eyes, nor slumber to her eyelids, but is the guardian angel of his pillow. When all human aid has failed--when the pulse beats faint--the once sparkling eye grows dim and rolls faint and languid in its socket, she stands mute and pensive at his dying bed. Her whole soul is absorbed in the interest of the scene and rent with agony. She wipes the cold sweat of death from his face, gazes with exquisite anxiety till the last dreadlful struggle is over, and breathes to the throne of mercy the prayer of affection for the repose of his spirit. And so feels the kind husband over his companion, indulgent parents over their dying children, and dutiful children over their parents. But it is a lamentable circumstance, a painful consideration, that there are too many unhappy divisions in the domestic circle. Yes, it is a painful consideration indeed, that those, who are so nearly allied to each other, should, even for one moment, indulge in feelings of acrimony. It is but a short time, at longest, that we can be together, and such unhappy divisions must render the parting scene, at the bed of death, doubly painful. Thoughtless, giddy or oppressive as we may be to those, who are near to us in life, while blooming health is their lot, yet righteous heaven has so constituted our natures, that the most painful reminiscences will force themselves upon the mind when the injured object, to whom we have given distress, is upon a dying bed. Every unkind word, every harsh treatment, the whole dark picture our ungenerous conduct will present itself to the imagination in all its naked woes. And be that dying one a parent, a companion, a child, their very silence, as thy turn upon us a languid eye fading in death, will harrow up every painful recollection. O! if we wish to tread upon their graves with an unsullied conscience before heaven, let us be of one mind, live in peace, and discharge, to them, those sacred duties of kindness and affection, which the ties, that bind them to us, enjoin. This world is too much made up of appearances. Many a family, which we suppose to be the abode of union, peace and joy, is distracted with the voice of discord, and is dragging out an existence in secret, concealed grief. Many a husband and wife, who, we suppose, are of one heart and mind and passing their days in the sunshine of peace and love, are torn by secret broils, and whose mansion stands overcast with the dark shadows of discontent and misery. Little do we dream of the secret woes, that rend many a worthy heart concealed behind a smiling countenance. The husband is perhaps stern and unrelenting--and will, in no case, yield to the wishes of his companion. Discouragement and anger may perhaps at times take possession of the heart. In such a case, instead of treating her kindly, he rouses into a passion himself, and a private contention ensues. This is a wretched practice, for instead of extinguishing the flame, it adds fuel to the fire, and consumes all that is fair and lovely in matrimonial and domestic life. Much misery might be avoided by observing the following rule. When the one is melancholy, let the other be rationally cheerful, and endeavor to divert the attention from the subject that causes gloom. When the one is angry, let the other keep a perfect equanimity and a benign composure of countenance. Then watch the opportunity, and in some future day, when the offended one is most cheerful and kind, then bring forward the subject, and expostulate most feelingly on the impropriety of indulging a wrathful spirit to a bosom friend. Speak of the shortness of life and point each other to the silent grave and to the parting scene, and vengeance, anger and discontent will soon be strangers in your habitation. Your dear children, from the very dawnings of intellect, will take the example, grow up in harmony and affection with perfect rule over their spirit, and thus you will not only secure your own domestic peace, but will bequeath those sacred enjoyments to your posterity--enjoyments that infinitely outweigh a thousand fortunes in gold! Let others toil to leave their offspring wealth, we ours the joy to bequeath them this. We ask no more. We are not only to be of the same mind one towards another in our families but in our religious societies. Here all selfishness ought to be discarded, all private interests sacrificed, all hostile feelings subdued, and the whole offered on the altar of genuine good, and thus the harmony, peace and prosperity of the whole body consulted. The permanent security of these depend on the individual conduct of the members. By uniting ourselves in a religious body, we express the necessity of living a sober life, maintaining a union of heart and a respectful conversation towards all with whom we associate in life. Let us not dream that heaven will prosper us above others, if we also blaspheme the name of Him who gave us life and sustains us in being. Let us lay aside every evil, that has a tendency to disunion, and live soberly and righteously in the world, doing good unto all as we have opportunity. [The reader will find this subject continued in our next number.] SERMON XV "Be of the same mind one towards another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate." Romans xii. 16. Having from the commencement of these sermons confined myself to prescribed limits, I had no room in my last to pursue the first division of my subject so far as I intended. I will therefore here resume it. "_Be of the same mind, one towards another_." We have thus far confined our attention to family union, and have just glanced at the necessity of union in religious societies. This is a day of inquiry and light when the most keen and searching glances are sent into every creed. Many denominations that have walked together heart and hand for many years, each repelling the assaults of those, who attempted to extinguish their ism, have at length been separated by internal divisions and formed two opposing parties, even though they once believed the _same creed_, and advocated the _same church government_. The present is a trying period, and it stands us in hand to endeavor to "keep the unity of the spirit in the bonds of peace." Let us not dream of religious union, and prosperity, unless we allow each one to think for himself in matters of scripture interpretation. Nor let us dream of prosperity, if there is among us more theory than practice. It is true, Universalists are as moral as any other denomination; but this is not enough. They ought in _kindness and benevolence_ to transcend other denominations as far, as their doctrine of universal beniguity transcends the doctrine of unending wo. Neither are we to dream of religious union and prosperity, unless we raise our united voices against those who revel over the flowing cup of intoxication, which pours so many streams of misery and disunion on the world. Let no one fancy to himself that the drunkards toast, "_here is health and success to us_!" has any charm to avert his ruin, or to stay the judgment of heaven. The more frequently that toast has been uttered, while smiling upon the cup of inebriation held in a trembling hand, the farther have health and success been removed from the deluded victim, and the more swift and deadly have misfortune, sickness, distress and pain fallen upon him. Intemperance is a demon, that sows the seeds of discord among all ranks, orders and conditions of men. Beneath his crushing hand creation reels, and fortunes fall in broken ruins! And peace the sweet angel of mercy flies these turbulent skies, and lights on realms unmoved by the hand of commotion and discord. At his approach, blooming health is driven back from its warm abode and the fairest flowers of domestic love, hope and joy are withered forever! Let this frightful foe of discord and confusion be barred from our sacred heritage and peace be within our borders. We are not only to be of one heart and one mind in resisting profanity and intemperance, but in resisting tale-bearing. Let us not speak evil of others. This is beneath the character of a gentleman, and certainly beneath that of a christian: consequently no gentleman or christian will indulge in it. It is the employment of _low, ill-bred minds_, and therefore none will engage in it, but those who are destitute of reputation themselves. This vice has no excuse, and must therefore originate in the _basest_ motives. They intend to bring their fellow creatures down to a level with themselves, and thus lessen them in the good opinion of others, and destroy their peace. And though they may effect their object so far as the good opinion of the virtuous is calculated to give us happiness, yet the approbation of a good conscience, arising from the conviction of innocency, can never he rooted from the heart of its possessor by all the calumnies of earth. _This_ God has secured in all the secret chambers of the soul, and forever barred it against the breath of slander. There he takes up his abode and holds communion with the contrite spirit. The real merits and consolations of virtue are secured to its possessor by the impartial legislation of righteous heaven. Intemperance in its effects, compared with slandering, is harmless; at least so far as producing discord is concerned. The peaceable drunkard, compared even with that church member, who is continually sowing discord in society, is an angel. Slander is but the infectious breath or a foul spirit, that poisons the healthful atmosphere wherever it is breathed, and breaks the quiet repose--the calm serenity of neighborhoods and families, as it were, with an electric shock. Political slander is as infectious and destructive to the harmony of the nation, and the security of our government, as private slander is to neighborhoods and societies. No sooner is a candidate held up for office, than all the party dogs of war on both sides are let loose and set to barking. Immaterial how fair may be his character, how inviolable his veracity, or how unsullied his honor and integrity, they will make him appear to be an outcast from society, covered with the darkest blots of infamy. Immaterial how great may be his qualifications, or how splendid his talents, they will, by that species of logic for which slanderers are famous, prove him to be a fool. These dissentions do not expire when the candidates are elected. They are carried to the capitol of our common country and blown out in more than wordy war. There, we have reason to fear, the volcano is gathering, and that the day is not distant when it will disembogue in more than the thunders of Etna, wrap our political heavens in a blaze, and melt its elements with fervent heat. Anarchy and confusion will seize the reins of government, and drive us to the oblivious shades of departed empires. If we continue to go on in our political slanders as a nation, losing sight of our common welfare, and sacrificing the _general_, on the altar of _partial_ interest, the day of our ruin is not remote. Its awful morn, has, already, it seems, dawned with streaks of malignant _light_, and (like ill fated Troy) ominous of the purple streams, the crimson blood, that watered the Trojan plains where mighty Sarpedon fell, where Hector lay slain by the sword of Achilles. Heaven forbid that our national sun, that rose so fair, should go down in blood, and shroud our temple of Liberty in everlasting night! To avert such a catastrophe let us reform, and do our duty as individuals. The safety of any body politic depends on the conduct of the individuals that compose it. And God grant that these dissentions may cease, that political peace and harmony may become perfect, and our government may stand immoveable on its basis, like the rock that remains unshaken by the furious storms that agitate the ocean. May we, as a nation, be of one mind in resisting every species of immorality, in studying the happiness of our fellow creatures--of one mind in obtaining a knowledge of the character of our Creator, in studying his parental and benign government, and his divine attributes and unchanging perfections--and be of one mind in acquainting ourselves with his beautiful works that swarm around us and afford us so many rational delights. Let us store our minds with useful knowledge, practice the precept of Christ, labor for mental emancipation, and contentment and peace will be our lot. In the great duties of religious obligation, let us be of one heart and mind. Let us live like brethren, not only among ourselves, but among other denominations. It is not long that we are to be together. We are fading like the flower of the field, and ought to bear in mind that death will soon lay our heads equally low in the dust, and the worms shall cover us. We glitter for a moment like the bubbles borne on the bosom of the ocean; they break and mingle again with the parent fountain. We toil and heap up wealth, pass like empty shadows over the plain and vanish forever! Generations, that covered the earth, are gone, and unremembered by the living. They strove to gather wealth and honors--they met each other in the hostile field--rolled garments in blood, bedewed the widow's and the orphan's cheek with tears, and filled their peaceful habitations with the voice of lamentation and wo. Thousands lived in clamors and discord, and one seemed destined to be oppressed by another. But the fields of war are still, the noise of battle is hushed, and the voice of lamentation and wo is heard no more! Hark! All is still as the chambers of eternal silence! Where are they? In the shades of death! Kind reader, this is the doom of us all! And so it will soon be said of you and me! Let us then be of one mind. Let us do good by visiting the fatherless in their affliction and keeping ourselves unspotted from the world. We have now considered the fact, that real felicity consists in mental pleasures and gratifications, and that these alone exalt our nature and capacity for happiness above the brute creation, and have directed your attention to virtue and peace as the only condition in which that happiness can be found. We have brought to view the propriety of being of one heart and mind towards each other in our families, in our religious societies, in the community and in our national concerns. We have set before you the evils resulting from intemperance, and from private and political slander. We will now, in the _second_ place, take into consideration the _negative and affirmative_ consequence resulting from them on the morals of the community so far as the causes leading to _intemperance and crime_ are concerned. Many discourses have been delivered, during the three past years, on intemperance pointing out its ruinous effects on the morals of society, while but few discourses have been put into the hands of the public pointing out the causes leading to this destructful vice, and those few have not in my humble opinion traced it to its _true source_. Much has also been said about intemperance leading to crime, which in many respects is true. But all this is not coming to the fountainhead from whence these turbid streams flow. We will take the liberty to differ on this subject with all that has as yet fallen upon our ear, and independently give our opinion, as to what we conceive to be the original cause from whence these baneful effects spring. We will endeavor to show that _the poorer class of society are driven to intemperance and crime by the conduct of the rich (those whom the fashion of the world calls respectable and great) yes, by the conduct of too many, who are even attempting to reform them_. First, then we would remark; that man is a creature of want, which is the first cause of all action. Had he no wants, he would never seek to supply them, either by _honorable or dishonorable_ means. To this self-evident proposition, all will without hesitation assent. We will now attend to our general character as a nation, for it will be admitted, on all hands, that actions speak louder than words. As a nation, we enjoy much liberty; but public opinion, either of a political or religious character, may become so popular as to erect itself into an engine of oppression, and so formidable, that many an honest man dare not dissent, nor independently raise his voice in defence of what he believes to be truth, but will tamely submit himself a slave to the opinions and doctrines of others. This is probably the case with the greater proportion of the American people. Again, though we profess to value every man by his integrity or moral worth, yet it is a fact, that in conduct we make a man's reputation depend principally on his purse. I yield the point without controversy that in books, in news-papers, in preaching and in words, we profess to esteem a man and rate his standing in society by his integrity. But what do words and books, and news-papers and preaching amount to, while mankind in conduct practice right the contrary of all these ostentatious professions? They amount to nothing but hypocrisy, or ridiculous nonsense. Does a man's standing, in these days, depend on his conduct! By no means. Let us introduce an example. Suppose there were two individuals of equal talents, and both possessed an equal education. Their moral characters are the same. But one of them falls in possession of an immense fortune, while the other is poor indeed. Now will public conduct place them on an equality? No. Will they both move in the same social circle? No. Will they both be treated with the same politeness and attention by their neighbors? No. Should they propose a public measure for the good of the town, would the one be listened to, with the same attention as the other? No. Would he possess so much influence in society? No. Well, what can be assigned as the reason, why this rich man stands so far above the other in the public opinion? Ans. It is because his character is measured by the length of his purse, and the weight of his influence is determined by the weight of his gold. It is not a thing of rare occurrence, that the rich are thus distinguished from the poor, but it is a fact so notorious that it has long since passed into a proverb. This being the course of conduct which men practice, the impression has therefore become general that reputation, influence and power depend on wealth. Hence the great inquiry, uppermost in every mind, is "how shall I get rich, so that I may stand high in the estimation of men, and exert a powerful influence in society, and be numbered among those who move in the higher circles of life?" Concluded in our next. SERMON XVI "Be of the same mind one towards another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate." Romans xii:12. Even a man, who is in many things unprincipled, if he is at the same time wealthy, takes a station in the higher circles of life, where the poor, but honest man, would not be admitted. This course of conduct is not only practised by what are called men of the world, but by professors of religion of about all denominations, by both preachers and people. The middling, and the poor class, seeing no encouragement, or even possibility, of rising so as to associate with those, who move in the higher circles of life, by any virtuous conduct they may pursue, and sensible that wealth alone possesses the charm to give them virtue and notice in the world, they are thus driven to various, dishonorable means to obtain it. Multitudes are driven to the crimes of counterfeiting, theft, and even robbery and piracy. They commence their wretched course, with the intention to abandon it, as soon as a competent fortune is obtained. Other thousands are driven to gambling; and even those, who are called respectable, take every possible advantage in trade and bargaining. Their pursuits are various, but their object is one and the same--viz: to gain wealth, so that they may obtain a high standing and influence in society. Thousands thus driven into crime, are detected, lose their reputation, and abandon themselves to intemperance. Their evil example has a pernicious influence on the morals of those children and youth, who may, by various circumstances, be placed in their society, and thus the pestilence, in all its frightful horrors, gathers force and spreads. There are thousands of virtuous persons, whom poverty excludes from the higher ranks of life, who are doomed to seek the converse of those, who are in a measure corrupted, and, by associating with them on public occasions, often in taverns and alehouses, are soon involved in habits of dissipation and obscenity. Man is a social being, loves society, and, rather than spend his life in solitude, will seek the converse of the vicious. If we would obey the injunction of the text--"Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate," these evils would be in a great measure removed. If we, as a community, would strip away the fancied reputation, which wealth attaches to the human character, and, independent of property, place every man on an equal footing, according to their moral and mental worth, and let their power and influence in society, be according to their conduct, it would give a noble tone to public feeling and moral grandeur. By the "_high things_," mentioned in our text, we are to understand that vain popularity which one man wishes to enjoy above another, in a religious or political sense. It is one of the ruling passions of the day, in which we live, to be considered of high standing among our fellow creatures, and to possess a larger share of influence over the minds and opinions of men, than those whom we consider our rivals. Those, who possess this desire, and at the same time feel a haughty spirit towards those, whom they consider in the humble walks of life, are certainly not the men, who are entitled to our esteem, nor are they to be looked up to, as examples of magnanimity. So far from possessing true greatness of soul, or being entitled to veneration, they are certainly below those whom they affect to despise. A truly great and good man has no desire to dazzle, but to be useful in the world. He sees the miseries under which thousands groan, and desires to relieve them, but with no wish to be considered great for discharging those duties of kindness and humanity. But it is a lamentable consideration, that too many, in performing those acts of mercy, seek to stand on an eminence above the crowd they wish to benefit, and proclaim their intentions to men through the loud sounding trumpet of fame, but, at the same time, will not even stoop to converse with the very beings they profess such a warm desire to aid. Every thing must be done on a high scale, and in the manner they dictate, otherwise they have no wish it should be done at all. It is a matter of regret, that this spirit, so desirous of minding high things, has been carried into the sanctuary--in fact, has been carried to the solemn gates of death--yes, even into eternity. We have witnessed what are commonly called "revivals of religion," in which two or more denominations united, apparently, heart and hand. They publicly declared, that as they saw their fellow creatures exposed to the burning wrath of God in the future world, they had no motive in view, but their conversion and escape from that awful doom-- that it was, to them, a matter of indifference with what church they united themselves, provided, they would only repent and turn to God. All this passed on well till the reformation ceased. The next thing, to be determined, was, what doctrine do you believe, and what church will you join? This was a trying point, and its settlement filled them with animosity towards each other. And why? Because each desired the honor of converting them to their faith, and of bringing them into their church, or else, that they should not be converted at all. Though this has been done by some, yet it is no evidence, that all will do this, or even approve it. There are those, who, we believe, are actuated by nobler motives than in the cause of truth, and who are not aspiring to stand high, nor striving "who shall be greatest." One denomination has labored to assume the entire honor of reforming the public morals--has labored to become incorporated by an act of Legislature into an American Temperance Society, and were unwilling to admit Universalists and Unitarians to co-operate with them in this work of reform. This is but aspiring after high things, instead of manifesting the meek and lowly spirit of Christ. But we would more particularly remark that, it is this very course of conduct of any man, or class of men exalting themselves above others in account of their _wealth, or external circumstances_, that discourages the poor, who are not only called, but treated as the lower order of society, and drives thousands of them to the intoxicating cup, as a relief from the mortifications of poverty, and drives other thousands into crime, as the only means to obtain that wealth by the omnipotence of which, they alone can rise to eminence, respectability, and influence among men. Preachers of the gospel, as well as others, give sanction by their conduct to these false notions of respectability and greatness. They will seek the society, and court the favor of the rich in preference to the poor, even though the _latter_ may exceed the _former_ in integrity and moral worth. This, we say, is the most powerful incentive to drive men into a state of encouragement, intemperance and crime. It is a fearful precipice on which we stand, as a religious community. Instead of estimating a man's standing by his virtuous principles, it is too much estimated by his dollars. So did not Jesus Christ our great example. He mingled with the lowest class of society. He associated with, and visited most among those he wished to reform, so that his meek, mild and heavenly example might exert a salutary influence upon their hearts, and cast a restraint upon their conduct. He was a friend to publicans and sinners, and ate and drank with them. He went among them, as a physician, to give them life and health, to conduct them by encouragement and persuasion to the paths of righteousness and peace. His presence was not needed among those who were whole. He was of course seldom found in their society. He did not desire to rank with the rich, self-righteous pharisee. So ought those, who profess to be the servants of Christ, to go among them, who are most in need of their aid. "The servant is not above his Master." They ought, therefore, to condescend to men of low estate, and visit the abodes of poverty and want. But instead of this, they stand aloof, even from the respectable, because they are poor, and instead of visiting those, who indulge in dissipation and vice, and trying to lead them to the paths of virtue and peace, are heaping upon them the most opprobrious epithets. By esteeming the rich and associating with them, they practice a course of conduct, which has rooted the impression deep in every mind, that to be esteemed, and to rank with them in the social circle, they must be rich. This has driven many a virtuous man into crime, many into bad company, and finally into discouragement and intoxication. This no one can deny. What, we ask, is the reason, that there is so large a proportion of the middle and lower class of society, compared with the rich, who indulge in _crimes and intemperance_? Why is it when misfortune falls upon the rich, that they, so often, resort to the intoxicating draught? The mystery can only be unriddled in the stubborn fact, that wealth, more than virtue, gives a man a reputation in the world, and this destructive vice involves thousands in ruin. If every man were assured that, be he _rich or poor_, he could associate with those who are wealthy and respected, and move in the higher ranks of life, if he only maintained his integrity, and that he would be esteemed in proportion to his moral virtues and mental acquirements, every man would be induced to merit a good name; and their good opinion would operate as a constant check upon his conduct. Every man, by early attention to his deportment, can become respectable, but every man cannot become wealthy. Did the rich esteem the poor, and admit them into their social circle _solely_ on the ground of moral worth, there would be but little danger of these poor ever forfeiting their standing, by plunging into the floods of intemperance and crime. And did they reject from their circle the rich, who were vicious until reformed--in fine, did they only strip away from wealth its fancied charm, to make them either respectable, or influential, did they confine it to its due limits, as being only necessary to satisfy our animal wants, and did they with one consent declare that an improved mind and virtuous worth should be the only criterion by which men should take their stations in social life, intemperance and crime would soon cease. Men would then be as much engaged in striving to merit a fair reputation, as they are how in striving to obtain wealth. It is, therefore, the conduct of the great by falsely attaching character and influence to wealth, that is driving their fellow creatures into crimes to obtain it, and other thousands into discouragement and intemperance. From this charge preachers are not exempt. They too respect, and visit the rich more than the poor, and thus indirectly lend their influence to drive them from virtuous life to a course of dissipation and crime. And when once they get them there, then they wish to devise some _great means_ to bring them back to the paths of sobriety and virtue. Do they endeavor to effect this, by ceasing to mind high things, and by condescending to men of low estate? No--but instead of going among them, and taking this unhappy class of our fellow creatures by the hand, and leading them by encouragement and persuasion to the paths of temperance and reformation, they have, in substance, said, "stand by thyself, I am holier than thou." They have minded high things, by placing themselves on an elevation above them, and made them out to be worse than murderers, thieves and robbers, by ascribing all the crimes, that are committed, to the use of rum! This has discouraged and exasperated many, and made them feel that reformation would be of no avail to raise them to be the associates of those, who appeared so anxious to reform them. Their language has, in substance, been--you must reform, give us the credit, but must stand where you are in the lower circles of life, obey our exhortations, and look up to us as your benefactors, but you cannot expect to rank with us, because you have no cash to introduce yourselves into our circles. And as all men desire society, they have remained with their companions in iniquity. For any class of society to take a station above others, and endeavor to force men to abandon the cup by passing votes or enacting by-laws, that no spirits shall be sold them, is but exciting their rage, and causing the intemperate to drink the more out of revenge, and causing those, that are already temperate, to increase the quantity as an act of defiance. It is a fearful precipice on which we stand as a religious community. Estimating a man's standing in society by his immense wealth, or learned profession, rather than by his integrity and virtue, is attended with the most dangerous circumstances, as we have already noticed. Men cannot be reformed by force, nor by declaiming what a low, mean, unworthy, degraded part of the human race they are. There is too much pride in our world. We ought to bear in mind that death will soon lay our heads equally low in the dust, and "the worms shall cover us!" O the folly of human pretensions to greatness! Let us not mind high things, but condescend to men of low estate. By preachers and people of all denominations obeying the exhortations of our text, mankind would, in a great measure, be restrained from crime, and certainly from being openly intemperate. If then, we sincerely desire to reform them, and to hold a powerful check upon their conduct, and prove ourselves the benefactors of our race, let us begin the work, by adhering most scrupulously to our text, which exhorts us to be of the same mind one towards another, to mind not high things, but to condescend to men of low estate. It is the duty of preachers, in particular, to be meek and lowly in spirit--to be humble and watch over the moral maladies of mankind--to break down the arrogant distinctions, which the fashions and riches of the world have set up--to esteem men purely for their moral and intellectual worth, independent of the gifts of fortune, and to visit those, who are given to intemperance, and, by gentle persuasive measures, endeavor to lead them to habits of sobriety. And when this is effected, treat them according to that respect, which their virtues merit. God is kind to the evil and to the unthankful, and ought we to be unkind to them? Heaven forbid. We have now set before you, what we conceive to be the _principal cause_ leading to _intemperance, dishonesty, and crime_. True, there may be some exceptions to this, but we are conscious, that it is the conduct of those very men, who are declaiming against _intemperance and crime_, that first drives their fellow creatures into those deplorable haunts of vice. They do this _indirectly_, and perhaps _innocently_. They do it by giving too much reputation and influence to the wealthy class of the community, by paying too much homage and respect to gold, and by withholding, from the virtuous poor, that respect which their conduct merits. We cannot set this truth before you in a more forcible light, than by relating, from memory, an anecdote of Dr. Franklin, with which we will conclude. The rich merchants and professional men in Philadelphia proposed to form themselves into a social circle from which all _mechanics_ were to be excluded. The paper, drawn up for the purpose, was presented to Dr. Franklin for his signature. On examining its contents, he remarked that he could not consent to unite his name inasmuch as by excluding mechanics from their circle, they had excluded God Almighty, who was the greatest mechanic in the universe! SERMON XVII "And be ye kind one to another, tender hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you." Ephesians iv. 32. A tender heart is the kind boon of heaven, and forgiveness is a virtue too little exercised in the common intercourse of life. Men are too apt to be in character Pharisees. They are too apt to love those that love them, and hate their enemies. Retaliation is inconsistent with the spirit of the gospel, and is a vice deeply to be stigmatized and deprecated by all lovers of peace and morality. By retaliation, we are to understand the injuring of another because he has injured us. This spirit of revenge betrays a contracted mind in which the feelings of compassion and forbearance never found a permanent abode. A man of a peevish, irritable and revengeful temperament, is to be pitied, instead of being injured in return. By retaliating the evil he may have done, you involve yourself in the same condition of meanness, and in your turn become the injurer. All those men, whose names are rendered illustrious and immortal, have been distinguished for a spirit of forbearance, kindness and mercy. Were there no examples of rashness--no failings and imperfections among men, there would, then, be no opportunity to distinguish ourselves by a spirit of forgiveness. God has so constituted the present existence of his creatures, that the perfections of his divine character might be manifested to them in the unchanging exercise of his paternal compassion and forgiveness; and thus afford them an opportunity to imitate himself in the exercise of those exalted feelings, which emanate from heaven. We are not, however, to understand that tenderness of heart and forgiveness are to be exercised to the utter exclusion of the principles of honor and justice. If our children offend, or our dearest earthly friend do wrong, we are to manifest the feelings of tenderness and forgiveness, but these ought not to induce us to overlook their crimes or faults, by remaining silent in regard to their vices. This would be suffering our compassion to degenerate into weakness. It would in fact be hardness of heart. It would betray a spirit of indifference to their dearest interest, as by our silence, they might remain in blindness to the demerit of their deeds, and hurry on to the ruin of their reputation, and consequently, of their earthly happiness. True tenderness of heart makes us watchful over the conduct of those we love, and with whom we are connected in life-- moves us to lay naked before them their faults, so that they may early correct them, and thus inspires their hearts with tenderness, and prompts them to regard the happiness, feelings and welfare of others. It is immaterial how near and dear your friend may be, you should, by the feelings of mercy, be induced to tell him his faults, however much it may wound his heart. The wise man says "the wounds of a friend are faithful; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." Too many parents, for want of determination of character, and for suffering their compassion to degenerate into weakness and remaining blind to the faults of their children, having seen them come to some disgraceful end--a state prison, or even the gallows. This, instead of being true tenderness of heart, was infatuation and the worst species of hardness and insensibility to the welfare of their offspring. On the other hand, we ought never to suffer a spirit of revengeful indignation to slumber in our bosoms, ready on every trivial occasion to awake into resentment and retaliation. In fine, we ought to imitate our God in feelings and conduct towards each other, as it is expressed in our text. But many suppose that God is filled with feelings of revengeful indignation towards his creatures, and that the period is rolling on when he will cease to be merciful, and will commence torturing us in the future world for the sins committed in this, and that too, when punishment can do no good to the sufferer--when reformation will be out of his reach. To torment a frail dependent creature, under such circumstances, would be the most degrading species of revenge. And if this is the conduct of God, then we must practice the same, because we are commanded to imitate him. Our text says--"Be yea kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another; even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you." In this passage, our Father in heaven is held up to the world as the model of _kindness tenderness and forgiveness_, that mortals are to imitate. God is the moral standard to which every bosom ought to aspire. The highest perfection and loveliness of man fall infinitely short of the intrinsic loveliness and divine perfection's of Jehovah. If he is the standard of moral excellence which we are to imitate, then we must admit that the copy far exceeds the imitation. If man is called upon to act like God in order to improve his character and affections, then God is better than man, and every opposing objection must, forever, fall to the ground. Perhaps it may be said, that all denominations of men allow him to be so. This is not correct. It is true, they _say this_ in so many words. But words are one thing, and what a doctrine involves is quite _another_. I might believe, and most rigidly maintain, that an earthly father had prepared a palace of comfort for his five _obedient_ children, and a furnace of fire to torture his five _disobedient_ children; and suppose he had dealt with his ten children as above stated;--with what propriety could I step before the public, and contend that he was the best man in America? Even were I persuaded, in my own mind, and firmly believed him to be the best man in existence, would either my _belief or acknowledgment_ make it a fact? No; every man of common sense, and common humanity would think me deranged. My saying that he was good, and even believing him so, could not alter the awful reality, but would be an evidence of my want of consistency and propriety. He would still be a bad unfeeling man, and in no comparative sense so good as that father, who should punish his children in mercy, and for their future amendment and benefit. But what is all this compared with the character that thousands ascribe to the God, who rules above? It is no more than the drop to the unmeasured ocean: because those five children would soon cease to suffer; but God, they contend, will torture without mercy or end, millions on millions of his poor dependent creatures for the sins of a short life! The most abandoned, and unrelenting savage, that roams the American forest--the worst wretch in human form would not do this, but release, at length, the sufferer from pain. And those, who contend that God will not release, but on the contrary involve the victim of his ire deeper in who, attribute to him a character infinitely worse, than the most cruel and degraded of our race, and no argument, to the contrary, can be for one moment maintained. If a man desire the holiness and happiness of all his fellow creatures, and would bring them to a glorified state of beatitude in heaven, had he the power, and still contends that God will not, it is elevating his goodness far above the goodness of God. And for any man to come forward with this acknowledgment on his lips, and yet address the benignant Parent of all, and, in prayer, acknowledge him to be the best of all beings, is only using words without propriety or meaning. There is no sense, no reason in such logic. It completely contradicts itself, and what is contradictory cannot be true. Would you save all men from sin and its attendant misery if you could? O yes, is the answer, I would, and carry them all in the arms of unbounded benevolence to glory. Well, has God the power to do it? Yes, is the reply. But do you believe that he will exert his power so as to accomplish it? No says the objector, I believe that he will sentence a large portion of his erring offspring to endless and inconceivable wo. Very well; then you are the best being of the two. And it is a melancholy circumstance to these unfortunate beings, that you are not on the throne of the universe. If this be so, then our text ought to be reversed. God ought to copy your tenderness, and forgive men as you do! We are certainly called upon to conform our conduct to the best standard, and to imitate the _best_ being. If you are the _best_, then God and man ought to be called upon, and _entreated_ to imitate you! No; says the objector, God is superlatively the best being in the universe. You may talk, and tell me so, till the morning sun sinks beyond the western hills, and yet your _creed_ will contradict every word you utter. What you have just acknowledged, unchangeably stares you in the face. You say, that you would forgive all, save them from sin, and raise them to a blessed eternity, if you had the power. This power, you say, God possesses, and yet you _believe_, and that he will not do it. It is certainly an unfortunate circumstance to the human family, if their Father in heaven is destitute of that goodness which you feel! From whom did you receive all those compassionate feelings of heart? Why says the objector, God gave them to me. But how can God give you what he has not himself? If you possess more benevolence than God, you could not have received it from him; because on this principal he did not have it in possession to give. Surely he could not communicate to you, or any other being, what he did not originally possess. From what source, then, did you derive so much tenderness and love? There must, certainly, be some being in the universe in whose bosom is rooted as much benevolence and love as you feel, or how could it have been communicated to you from another? Now, where did you get it? God gave it to me, says the objector. This cannot be, because your doctrine proves, that you have more love than the God who made you! If you insist that he has given it to you, has he not in such case, given you more than he originally possessed? He has. If so, endless misery may be true; for on this principle he has none left! The scriptures teach that "God is love"; and all his works speak the same language--saying, "the Lord is good, and his mercies endure forever." But how good is he? The doctrine of endless wrath says, he is not as good as you. You are but a small stream from an infinite ocean of love; and yet this little stream is greater than the ocean from which it issues, and rises far above its fountain head! Can this be true? Impossible. O, do you not perceive how your own feelings, which you daily experience, contradict your creed! You feel, desire, and pray for the salvation of all men, and if you had the power, all your feelings, prayers and desires would be carried into execution. And yet your doctrine denies, that God, the fountain, in which all your affections originate and live, will do it;--and at the same time you say, that you have no love only what he gave you! What inconsistencies, contradictions and blindness are here! Man, a small drop, from the benevolent fountain God, is willing to do, what the source from whence he came is unwilling to do! Then a drop of love, in the human bosom, is more tender and benevolent than an ocean in the God, who placed it there! We all know, that the fountain must be more extensive than the stream it sends forth--yea, larger, than all its running streams put together. This we know to be correct, as well as we know, that the sun enlightens the world. Let us then collect these little streams into one. Bring, if you please, into one body, the love and benevolence of men and angels, of cherubim and seraphim--stretch your thoughts to unnumbered worlds, extract the love from countless bosoms, and condense the whole into one being. How great, lovely, and adorable, would that creature be! Then, let the question be put to him--from whence did you derive all those noble qualities of love, mercy and goodness? He replies, _from my Father God_! Now, we must grant, that God far exceeds him in goodness, because this noble creature is but an emanation from him--and the good desires of this creature would be equal to the good desires of the countless millions of men and angels in all worlds; and could have no other intentions only those, which goodness and mercy dictate--and goodness itself can do nothing contrary to its own nature, any more than ice can burn or fire freeze. This creature would desire the happiness of all; and yet even he is but a small rivulet flowing from the crystal fountain of life and being! This creature would institute a government _perfectly merciful_; and mercy would, of course, require, that the _disobedient_ should be punished to bring them to _obedience_, and perfect them in the same state of glorification and love with that being itself. "God is _love_," and it, therefore, follows that he is _love_ to every creature he has made, and it is utterly impossible that he can do any thing contrary to his own nature. "He cannot deny himself." He will, therefore, do all that love dictates. It is consistent with parental love to punish for the good of its offspring, but not to punish unmercifully. But inquires the objector, does God punish for the good of his creatures? We will let Paul settle this question--Heb. Xii. Chap. "For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. But if ye be without chastisement, whereof _all_ are partakers, then are ye bastards and not sons. Furthermore, we have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them reverence; shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the Father of spirits and live? For they verily for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure, but he for our profit that we might be partakers of his holiness. Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous; nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceably fruit of righteousness unto them that are exercised thereby." Now show us, if you can, any punishment which God inflicts, that contradicts his paternal goodness. It cannot be done. He has threatened and inflicted _everlasting punishment_ upon nations, as such, but not a solitary passage can be produced from Genesis to Revelations, where he has threatened any individual with _everlasting_ punishment. God is the adorable fountain of all tenderness, love, and compassion, and no mother's son was imbued in the fount of mercy like his, who was "the brightness of his glory and the express image of his perfections." True, her yearnings over the babe of her bosom are great; still they bear but little comparison to him who breathed those feelings there. God compares himself to the mother. "Can a woman forget her sucking child"? Woman, being of a more delicate formation than man, possesses a mind susceptible of more fine, deep, and lasting impressions than his. The affections of her soul, when fully roused into action, and fixed upon their object, are deeper than those of man, extend far beyond the compass line of his, and nobly range those sequestered haunts--those delightful fields of mental felicity, where his finest affections never penetrated. Let her heart once become fixed upon its darling object, and it is immaterial in what situation in life we contemplate her--whether prosperous or adverse, we behold the same unshaken constancy, the same bright and burning flame. Her love to her children is pure as the dew-drops of the morning, high as the heavens and unchanging as the sun. It scorns dictation, bids defiance to oppression, and never for one moment loses sight of its object. No disappointments that cross her path, no scenes of adverse fortune that darken her sky, can wrench it from her grasp, obscure it from her vision, or tear assunder the silken cord that binds it to her heart. The truth of these remarks we see verified in that unwearied watchfulness and care, which she exercises over her children in supplying their countless, and ever varied little wants; in allaying their little griefs, in soothing their tender hearts by the soft whispers of encouragement and love; in hushing them to repose and in watching over the slumbers of their pillow. Are her children exposed to danger, and full in her view? Then no devouring flame, that wraps her dwelling in destruction--no rolling surges that lash the foaming main, can, in such a moment of peril, over-awe her spirit, or deter her from rushing into the very jaws of death to save them. Are they sick? Sleepless she sits beside their bed, and watches every breath they draw. Are they racked with pain? Her soul inhales the pang; and freely drinks at the same fount of agony, and breathes over them the prayer of mercy. Love is that _attribute_ in her nature to which all the _others_ are subservient. It is the _shrine_ at which they all bow, the _centre_ to which they all gravitate. If her children do wrong, she freely forgives. Has God given the mother all these noble affections, and does he feel less to his helpless, sinful and erring children? Let God answer--"Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will not I forget thee." [Concluded in our next.] SERMON XVIII "And be ye kind one to another, tender hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you." Ephesians iv. 32. In our last, we showed that that compassion, tenderness, and love of our Father in heaven, are the origin of all the sublime affections in the human bosom, and from this acknowledged fact, have shown that he is infinitely more regardful of the welfare of his offspring than the tender mother, with whom he compares himself; is of the welfare of her sucking child. We now resume the subject. In our text, we are called upon to forgive one another, as God has forgiven us. In examining this point, we are to be guided by what he has revealed. The question here arises, how many does God command us to forgive? He commands us to forgive _all_, even our enemies. This then must be forgiving them as he does. He therefore forgives all. He commands us to bless them that curse us, and to pray for them that despitefully use us, and persecute us, that we may be the children of our Father in heaven. Does God command us to do more than he is willing to do himself? No, he lives up to his own command. If God requires us to forgive, even as he does, and then commands us to love and forgive _all_, then he loves, and forgives _all_, otherwise he would violate his own command; and then there would be no resemblance between his forgiveness and ours. Even as God, for Christ's sake hath forgiven you, so ought ye also to forgive one another. Would you forgive all, and bring them home to glory? Yes. Will God? No, says the objector, he will not forgive his enemies, but his friends only. Then you must not forgive all. Do you ask why not? Because you are to forgive, _even_ as God. He is the standard you are to imitate. If you forgive more than God, you are better than he. He cannot command you to do different from himself. If God requires you to love and forgive _all_, while he himself will forgive only a part, then God acts contrary to his own command. We are exhorted in the text _to be kind, tender-hearted and forgiving even as he is_. Do your kindness, tenderness, and forgiveness extend to all, and desire the happiness of the universe? Yes. Then also does that of God, or else you are, in every sense of the word, better than he. You differ from, instead of imitating God. If so, you are doing wrong, because you are violating the text. He commands you to be kind, tender, and forgiving _only as he is_;--and you contend that his kindness, tenderness and forgiveness, extend to a part only, and that all the rest he will torture world without end. But, says the objector, God is now kind, tender, forgiving, and merciful to all; but he will not be so, when they enter eternity, for "the doors of mercy will then be shut." How do you know that--who told you so? Will God change in some future day? If he change, he will not be the same being, he is now. I thought, he was the same yesterday, today, and forever, without variableness or even the shadow of turning. I thought he was the same Jehovah in all worlds. Do you intend to make him kind, tender, and forgiving _here_, but unkind, unforgiving, and hard-hearted to a part of his offspring _hereafter_? If you intend to change both the nature and character of the Almighty in the future world, then you and myself are done arguing. That doctrine is, certainly in a pitiful condition, which drives its advocate to the necessity of changing the Almighty wholly into another being to support it. "God so loved the world, even when dead in trespasses and sins," as to deliver up his Son to "taste death for every man." And being unchangeable, he could never hate them. In our text, God commands us to forgive as he has forgiven. How many does God forgive? Ans. As many as he commands you to forgive. How many is that? _All, even your enemies--to bless and curse not_. We will now introduce the question--If God has not forgiven a man today, will he ever forgive him? I answer no, for he is unchangeable. We are to apt to think that our Creator is altogether such an one as ourselves--that he loves one day, and hates the next--that he is in reality angry one hour, and pleased the next--or that he holds a grudge one moment and forgives the next, if we will only ask him to do so. But all such ideas are calculated for children--for babes in Christ. The scriptures come down to the weakest capacity; but this is no reason we should always continue children, but rise in knowledge to the strength of manhood. We ought not to be "ever learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth." Paul said to his brethren "when for the time ye ought to be teachers, ye have need that one teach you" &c. "When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things." The Scriptures are calculated for every capacity--for a child as well as a philosopher. We must rise from one degree of glory to another. We are not to fasten our minds down on the inventions of men, and live and die children. No--we must "forget the things that are behind, and reach forward to those that are before." As full grown men, we are not to suppose that prayer of any mortal can move the Almighty to pardon him. But says the objector, if we sincerely ask God to do thus and so, he will certainly grant our request. Very well, admit this for a moment. God, you say, will answer every _sincere_ prayer. Now suppose two armies are to meet in battle, one from France and the other from Holland. The hour when the engagement is to commence is precisely one month from tomorrow noon. Every day, there are millions of sincere prayers offered to God to give them the day. Holland, with one voice, prays for victory and for the preservation of her subjects; and France, with united supplication, prays right the contrary. How, we ask, are all those _sincere_ opposing petitions to be answered? Impossible. Again--one denomination prays for the prosperity of its cause, and the destruction of error. And as each believes all others to be in error, of course pray for their downfall. If the Lord answered their petitions, all denominations, of course, of course would fall! One man prays far rain, and another, that it may not rain. If God answered all these petitions, he would be as changeable, not as _one man_, but as the whole human family together. As it respects God's pardoning the human race, I contend that this pardon existed from the beginning. Do not the Scriptures declare that God chose us _in Christ_ before the foundation of the world? Yes, for "he calleth those things which be not as though they were." Well, could we be chosen _in Christ_ without being pardoned? No, for the apostle says, "he that is _in Christ_ is a new creature;" and, certainly, a man cannot be a new creature _in Christ_ without being pardoned in the mind of Deity. If then in the omniscient mind of God, to whom there is no future, they were chosen _in Christ_ before the foundation of the world, then in his mind, they must also have been pardoned before the world began. God never does a new act. By _pardon_ we are not to understand the clearing of a guilty man from deserved punishment, but an entire deliverance from a disposition to sin. The period, when we are to be released from sin, is through death, where the earthly nature, with all its wants and temptations to sin, falls, and the heavenly nature rises in incorruption and glory through a resurrection from the dead. Is not this the day of redemption when we are set free? Yes, so saith the Scripture. Well do not _redemption, remission, and forgiveness_ mean the same thing? They do. Then our _pardon, remission_ or redemption will be _realized_ through death and the resurrection. We will produce the Scriptures "in whom we have _redemption_ through his blood, even the _forgiveness_ of sins according to the riches of his grace." Here forgiveness and redemption are used synonymous, and are declared to be _through the blood of Christ_--that is, through his death, as a sacrifice for sin. Sin cannot exist beyond the sacrifice designed to take it away. He is represented as taking away the sin of the world under the figure of a _Lamb_. Sin will come to a finish, under the first covenant, exactly where Christ said "it is finished," at which moment the vail, concealing the "holy of holies," will be rent in twain, and the second covenant be opened. If we step beyond what Christ has said, we may as well give up the Scriptures, and trust to our own vain imaginations. There sin will end; and that is _dismission_, pardon or redemption from it. "O death! Where is thy sting? O grave! Where is thy victory? The _sting_ of death is _sin_, and the _strength_ of sin is the _law_ --but thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." Now, here it is represented, that our victory, over _sin and death_, is _when_ we rise to immortal glory. Our _victory_ over sin is at the _same instant_ with our victory over _death_; and who will deny that our _victory over death_ will be at the resurrection? The objector may as well deny our victory over _death_ at the resurrection, as to deny our _victory over sin_ at that period. The whole is said to be "through Christ." He was our "forerunner" and "first fruits" to represent our condition _there_. When he expired, he was free from _pain_, and when he arose, he was free from _temptation_. So when we pass the same scene, we shall be like _him_, who is our "resurrection and life," otherwise the harvest will not be like "the first fruits." God, then pardoned the human race, _in Christ_, when he made them. How? Ans. By ordering their existence in such a manner, that they should be freed from sin through death and the resurrection. That is the day of our final discharge--the day, when the prisoner shall be set free--the day, when our redemption shall come. But asks the objector, are we not to _realize_ our pardon in this world? Ans. Only _through faith_ in the _reality_. We look forward, and anchor our hope within the veil of death, and enjoy our pardon, or redemption, only by an eye of faith. This "faith works by love and purifies the heart." It causes us, in a great measure, to break off our sins by righteousness. But this has no influence, whatever, over the sins already committed. For _them_, we must still continue to feel miserable. Punishment is _certain_. From the sins that are committed, we only enjoy our pardon or redemption from them through faith in Christ the resurrection. Paul told the believers, that if there were no resurrection, their faith was vain, they were yet in their sins. This proves that they only enjoyed the pardon of their sins through faith in the resurrection, otherwise I see no force in his language. But inquires, the reader, why do you pray that God would pardon our sins? Ans. I do not pray to turn the Almighty from his will and purpose; but humbly trust, that I spend my days in searching out what "that perfect will of God is," and then pray in reconciliation to his revealed will. It is wicked to pray what we do not believe. "Whatsoever is not of faith is sin." I believe that God pardoned us from the beginning, and that this pardon will be realized through death and the resurrection. And when I pray that God would pardon our sins, I mean that he would grant us an evidence of that pardon, which unchangeably existed in his eternal mind, by enlightening our understanding in the Scriptures of truth, and giving us correct views of his character as a Being of tenderness and compassion to the children of men. So when we say, God has pardoned us, we do not mean that he has been moved by our petitions to do a new act; but that through the appointed means, he has so far enlightened our minds, that we have received an evidence of that pardon which existed with him from the beginning, and by faith we look forward, believing it will take place through death and the resurrection, as Christ has proved. By this faith we perceive the love of God, and break off our sins by righteousness. But while in the flesh, we feel a thorn--a hell of conscious guilt for the sins we have committed, and though the penitent may beseech God, that this messenger of satan, buffeting him, may depart from him, yet the answer will be, "my grace is sufficient for thee." We now perceive how God pardons sin, and yet punishes us for it. The misery, sin brings upon us, is our just punishment, and to be released from it, by the free grace of God, through death and the resurrection, is our pardon and redemption--For example--we say, in a cloudy day, "the sun does not shine;" but still he does. The clouds, just above our heads, prevent his rays from shining upon us. The change is not in the sun. The clouds disperse, and we say, "the sun shines," while in fact he is ever the same. The Scriptures say, "our God is a sun." He is unchangeably the same in all his brilliant perfections. "Sin like a cloud, and transgression like a thick cloud," rise over the mind and darken the understanding. Through this dark medium we look up to God, and think he has changed--that he is angry, and thunders are rolling from his hand, while in fact the whole change is in us. The moment our minds are enlightened by the beams of truth we rejoice, and say God has forgiven us. We receive an evidence of pardon, and enjoy it through faith, while God has remained unchangeably the same. While we are children in christianity, we speak and act like children; and think if we join together, and pray as loud as we can as though the Lord were "deaf, or all asleep or on a journey," that we can prevail, and make him do as we wish. And while we are children, if we sin, we think the Lord is our enemy, and is angry. Now, this is all well enough for those whose experience has gone no further. We are not to "despise the day of small things," but kindly receive such an one as a babe in Christ, and feed him with milk. But still it does appear to be a pity that thousands, under the gospel, should live and die children. "Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you." Now, we are to forgive as God does. How is that--To hold a grudge one day, and if they ask our pardon, to forgive them the next? No, we must uniformly possess a kind, tender-hearted, forgiving spirit, laying up nought against any one. Forgiveness does not consist in laying up a store of malice and vengeance, till our enemy come, and formally ask our forgiveness. No--he might never come, and then we could never forgive him. We are commanded to love and forgive our enemies whether they ask it, or not. So did our Saviour on the cross, and we are to exercise the same spirit of benevolence and meekness. We must, as our context says--put away all malice, wrath, and evil speaking from among us, and be kind, tender-hearted and forgiving. Our Father in heaven is the most lovely and adorable of all beings! Under the light of his character, every uncomfortable thought vanishes, and the dawn of a blessed eternity bursts upon us in a flood of glory. By faith we penetrate the veil of immortality, and read our pardon, and justification in letters of blood. Within that veil, we anchor our hope. Faith triumphs over the ruins of death, smiles at the darkness of the tomb, and through Christ within, the hope of glory, bids defiance to the crushing hand of death, and lights up its dreary mansions with the cheering beams of immortal day. SERMON XIX "For the time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God; and if it first begin at us, what shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God? And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" 1 Peter iv:17, 18. Upon this passage, the believers in endless misery lean for the support of that sentiment, and on many occasions it is quoted with an air of triumph as though the passage itself, without comment, were sufficient to silence all objections. Here they have one advantage of Universalists; and of this advantage they do not forget to avail themselves--viz: the prejudices of early education. But we sincerely call their application of this passage in question, and shall stand forth in defense of the triumphs of Jesus Christ over all sin, and pain and death, fully believing that the hand of heaven "shall wipe tears from off all faces." We will attempt to show,-- First--What we are to understand by _judgment_ beginning at the house of God. Second--Who were the _righteous_, and in what sense they were scarcely saved. Third--Show who were the _ungodly_, and where they appeared. _First--What we are to understand by judgment beginning at the house of God_. Jesus Christ chose him twelve disciples and commenced the great work the Father sent him to do. To them he disclosed many events, that God would in a future day bring upon the world. He pointed them forward with more than human accuracy into the approaching revolutions of time, and painted out in noon-day light those astonishing disasters that would one day burst like a thunderclap on the thoughtless nations. He marked their certainty, and warned them accordingly. Among the many things, that lay buried in the vista of future years, was the destruction of Jerusalem. This was a point that most solemnly concerned the disciples of Jesus. It was no less than the destruction of their nation. Christ was with his disciples in the temple, that splendid edifice which was forty and six years in building, and, in their presence and for the last time, addressed the stubborn Jews. He pointed out the many crimes of which they and their fathers had been guilty in shedding the blood of the prophets, and persecuting those who were sent unto them as the messengers of Jehovah. They had also made void the law of God through their traditions. While pointing out these things, and setting them home like a thunderbolt to their hearts, he pronounced them hypocrites, blind guides, devourers of widows' houses, and declared that all the righteous blood shed upon the earth should be required of of that generation. While rehearsing these things to them, Jesus had a perfect view of all their approaching sufferings. Many of them were to be starved to death. He saw by a prophetic eye the indulgent father and fond mother weeping over their infant train, who were begging for bread, but no way to procure it. Eleven hundred thousand he saw in a state of starvation, who were to fall by famine, sword and pestilence. He saw their cruel enemies surround the walls of their city, who would allow no sustenance to be given them, but determined to reduce them by hunger and sword to one common grave. All these things, that were coming upon them, rushed at once upon the mind of the compassionate Redeemer of the world. The affecting scene moved so strongly upon his heavenly feelings, that he dropped the the melancholy subject and burst into a flood of tears. He beheld the city and wept over it--"O Jerusalem! Jerusalem! Thou that killest the prophets and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, but ye would not!" He then left the temple for the last time; but as he was departing from it, his disciples, astonished at his denunciation, and regretting that such a magnificent edifice should be destroyed, exclaimed--"Master, see what manner of stones and what buildings are here!" And he said unto them "there shall not be left here one stone upon another that shall not be thrown down." The disciples immediately asked him saying, "tell us when shall these things be, and what shall be the sign of thy coming and of the end of the world?" By the end of the _world_ we are to understand the end of the Jewish _age_. As they asked him the _signs_ portending this terrible destruction, so that they might know when it was nigh at hand, he immediately proceeded to point them out, and warned them to flee to the mountains of Judea for safety. The signs are as follows--many false Christs should arise, there should be wars and rumors of wars, nation should rise against nation, kingdom against kingdom, and there should be famines, pestilences and earthquakes in diverse places. Then shall they deliver you up to be afflicted, and shall kill you, and ye shall be hated of all nations for my name sake. Then shall there be great tribulation such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, no nor ever shall be. The most prominent _sign_ he gave them, and one that more immediately concerned his disciples, was that they should deliver them up to be afflicted, and they should be brought before kings and governors for his name's sake. "But, (says Jesus) when they persecute you in one city, then flee ye to another." Christ gave his disciples plainly to understand, that when the Jews began their persecutions against his followers, then the destruction of Jerusalem was nigh at hand. After giving these instructions to his disciples, he laid down his life, and on the third day he arose, triumphing over death and leading captivity captive. His disciples soon after commenced the spread of the gospel of peace, and waived the banners of the cross over kings and subjects, calling upon them to bow to the reign of Jesus Christ, who was King of kings, and Lord of lords. They proclaimed a religion so contrary to the partial notions of the Jews and the traditions of the Elders, that it began at length to meet with violent opposition. The disciples agreeably to the direction of Jesus fled for safety from city to city, till the tumult and opposition became general. Christianity gathered force and popularity so rapidly, that the Romans, it appears, gave permission to the Jews to imprison and take life. The disciples and christians had now no place of safety to flee to, from the gathering storm of persecution and death. Amidst these disastrous scenes, Peter called to mind the _warnings and signs_ his risen Lord had pointed out as a solemn premonition that the destruction of Jerusalem and of their persecutors, was nigh at hand, and in view of the approaching calamity over which Jesus wept, Peter exclaims, "The time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God, and if it begin first at us, what shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God?" Thus we, see that what is meant by _judgment_ beginning at the _house_ of God, is _persecution_ beginning at the _christians_, which persecution was a _sign_ to them that the destruction of that nation was nigh at hand. The reader will perceive that what the apostle calls "_house of God_," he afterwards calls "_us_," in the same sentence, and must refer to the christians, who are in many scriptures called the _house, temple, and building_ of God. [See Heb. iii:6. Eph. ii:21, 22.] That the persecutions were stated by Christ as a _sign_ of the impending judgment of God upon the Jews, is evident from the words of Paul, 2 Thess. i:5, where he calls them "a manifest _token_ of the righteous judgment of God" upon the unbelieving Jews, the persecutors of the christians. _Second--Who were the righteous, and in what sense they were scarcely saved_. The righteous, mentioned in the 18th verse, mean the same persons called "_the house of God_," and "_us_," in verse 17th, and has reference to those christians _only_, who lived previous to the destruction of the temple, and not to any christians that lived subsequent to that event, much less does it refer to all the righteous that have ever existed or shall hereafter exist, as common opinion asserts. Under this head, we were also to show in what sense these righteous were _scarcely_ saved. It could not mean that their salvation in the future world was _scarce_ or uncertain; for it is _certain_ in the counsels of God, and in all things well ordered and _sure_. He has given to his Son the heathen for an inheritance and the uttermost parts of the earth for a possession. And all the Father hath given him shall come unto him, and he will raise them up the last day. He is mighty to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by him; and no one will deny that the righteous come unto him. How then can their eternal salvation be denominated _scarce_? Impossible. How then are the scriptures to be reconciled with our text, when they declare eternal life to be the gift of God--that we are saved by grace--that help is laid upon one mighty to save--that his arm is not shortened that it cannot save; and that the power of God is to be exerted at the resurrection in making them equal unto the angels? The answer is easily given--our text has no reference whatever to the immortal world, to a judgment at the end of time, nor to the final condition of the human family; but simply refers to the narrow escape of the christians from the destruction of Jerusalem, when they fled with their lives in their hands to the mountains of Judea for safety. In the 24th chapter of Matthew Jesus clearly describes the dreadful scene. He says--"Then let them which be in Judea flee into the mountains. Let him which is on the house top not come down to take any thing out of his house. And woe unto them that are with children and to them that give suck in those days!" [Why? Because they could not remain in the mountains during the period that the city was besieged by the Romans.] "But pray ye that your flight be not in the winter neither on the Sabbath day." [Why? Because in the winter you would perish with cold--and if your flight from the city be on the Sabbath day, the Jews will stone you to death for traveling more than three miles.] "For there shall be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, no, nor ever shall be. And except those days should be shortened there should no flesh be saved;" [Saved from what? Ans. From death.] "but for the elect's sake those days shall be shortened." That is, for the sake of the christians who fled to the mountains, God shortened the days of the siege. Let us hear Dr. Adam Clarke, a Methodist Commentator, on this--"Josephus computes the number of those who perished in the siege at eleven hundred thousand, besides those who were slain in other places; and if the Romans had gone on destroying in this manner, the whole nation of the Jews would in a short time have been entirely extirpated [destroy completely, as if down to the roots]; but for the sake of the elect, the Jews, that _they_ might not be utterly destroyed, and for the christians particularly, the days were shortened. These partly through the fury of the zealots on the one hand, and the hatred of the Romans on the other; and partly through the difficulty of subsisting in the mountains without houses or provisions, would in all probability, have all been destroyed, either by sword or famine, if the days had not been shortened." Let us hear Clarke explain how these christians were _scarcely_ saved. "But he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved." "It is very remarkable that not a single christian perished in the destruction of Jerusalem, though there were many there when Cestius Gallus invested the city; and had he persevered in the siege, he would soon have rendered himself master of it; but when he unexpectedly and unaccountably raised the siege, the christians took that opportunity to escape." Clarke says "_unto the end_" means "to the destruction of the Jewish polity." Therefore when Peter says, the righteous are _scarcely saved_, he had reference to the dreadful judgment which was coming upon "the wicked and ungodly" inhabitants of Jerusalem for shedding the blood of the righteous, and from this destruction the christians escaped with their lives in their hands to the mountains of Judea for safety as Jesus had directed them. They but just escape-- they were _scarcely_ saved. The christians also suffered persecution from the Jews; and Peter draws this inference from it--If we, who obey the gospel of God, have to endure so many persecutions from the Jews--if this judgment begins at us, how much sorer punishment will our enemies have to endure, who obey not the gospel of God? And if we the righteous are scarcely saved from this long-predicted destruction, where will the ungodly and the sinner appear? But how did Peter know that it was at hand? Because the persecutions, which Jesus had given them as a "_sign" or "token_" had then commenced at the house of God. The reader will now perceive that Peter was not speaking of a judgment at the end of time, because the judgment of which he was speaking had then commenced--"_The time is come_." Neither was he speaking of christians generally, nor of salvation in the future world; but of those christians _only_ who lived previous to the destruction of the Jewish polity, and of their being saved with _difficulty_ by watching the _signs_ and fleeing to the mountains of Judea as Jesus had forewarned them. Luke records the language of Christ more plainly to be comprehended than that of Matthew. "In your patience possess ye your souls. And when ye shall see Jerusalem encompassed with armies, then know that the desolation thereof is nigh. Then let them which be in Judea flee into the mountains, and let them which are in the midst of it depart out," &c. We should be led to suppose that, after the walls of the city were surrounded by an army, it would then have been too late for the christians to save themselves. But Christ as a prophet knew that Cestius Gallus would raise the siege, and fall back to make preparations for a more decisive attack, and thus afford the christians an opportunity to escape. It is evident to every candid reader that Luke expresses in chap. 21st, all that Matthew does in chap 24th and 25th. And that Luke does not refer to a judgment at the end of time is certain from the manner in which he concludes, which is as follows: "And take heed lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness, and the cares of this life, and so that day come upon you unawares * * * Watch ye, therefore, and pray always that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that shall come to pass and to stand before the Son of man." Here we perceive that not the least allusion is made to a judgment at the end of time; because there would be no propriety in warning his disciples not to be _drunk or overcharged with the cares of life_ at a judgment day thousands of years after their death. The day when the christians were "to stand before the Son of man" was at the destruction of the Jewish polity, and it was to take place in the life time of some of the disciples. Christ says, "there be some standing here that shall not taste of death till they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom." The day of Christ was therefore at hand, and the apostles were warned to keep it in view, and watch the signs that were to precede it. Peter was faithful to these warnings, and when he saw the _signs_, presaging its near approach, he exclaimed--"_The time is come_," &c. This was the day of tribulation, when the christians were scarcely saved from the dreadful fate that overtook their own countrymen, who remained blind till the things that made for their peace as a nation were hidden from their eyes. [Concluded in our next.] SERMON XX "For the time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God; and if it first begin at us, what shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God? And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" 1 Peter iv:17, 18. In our last we have attended to the first two divisions of our subject--viz: what we were to understand by judgment beginning at the house of God, and who were the righteous, and in what sense they were scarcely saved. We now invite the attention of the reader to the remaining division of the subject. _Third--who were the ungodly, and where they appeared_. By the _ungodly_ and the _sinner_, we are to understand the unbelieving Jews, the murderers of Christ and the persecutors of his followers. It has _exclusive_ reference to them and not to the ungodly who lived subsequent to the destruction of Jerusalem, much less does it refer to all the wicked that have ever existed, or shall hereafter exist, as common opinion asserts. This needs no further explanation. Under this head, we were also to show _where the ungodly and the sinner appeared_. We have already had occasion to state, that Peter in our text refers to the destruction coming upon the Jews. The time was come when that judgment of persecution, which began at the christians, was to be returned upon the heads of their persecutors in seven fold vengeance and suffering. Their city and nation were to be destroyed, and their magnificent temple, where their devotions were offered, was to be laid even with the ground. Not one stone was to be left upon another, but the whole become one general heap of ruins. Then according to the prediction of Jesus, was there to "be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, no, nor ever shall be." Then was "wrath to come upon them to the uttermost." Then was he to "take vengeance on them that know not God, and obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ." Then were "the children of the kingdom to be cast out into outer darkness where there was wailing and gnashing of teeth." Then, as a nation, were "they to go away into everlasting punishment;" for "these were the days of vengeance when all things, that were written, might be fulfilled," and "all the righteous blood shed upon the earth, from the blood of Abel to the blood of Zacharias, should come upon that generation." Titus led the Roman army against them, surrounded the walls of the city on the day of the Passover, where a great part of the Jewish nation were then assembled, and to which others had fled for refuge, being driven by the terror of his arms like chaff before the whirlwind. Here they appeared! Husbands and wives, parents and children, brothers and sisters, (one promiscuous throng) were gazing in breathless solicitude, while consternation and dismay were depicted in every countenance, and fearful expectation pervaded every bosom! Death, a long lingering death, was gathering around them in all its horrors! Old men and young, maidens, matrons and little children poured forth their lamentations to heaven, invoking the protection of the God of Israel. But, alas! "the things, that made for their peace (as Jesus forewarned them) were hidden from their eyes!" Their hour was come, and the triumphant shouts of the enemy were heard around their stubborn walls, which (massy as they were) dropped to the ground under the subduing power of the battering-rams of war. With these massive engines of destruction, they laid the two first walls in ruin! But the third and last wall it was not in the power of the enemy to gain. The Jews fought with desperation, and by valiant exertions kept the enemy at bay, and for a while seemed to triumph in the fond hope of victory over the foe. The Roman army was driven to great extremity, and even to hesitation, while many of their most valiant men fell in action, and impending victory seemed to hang doubtful. In this moment of suspense, they came to a determination to make no further attack upon the city, but guard it and reduce its inhabitants to submission by famine. All supplies were accordingly cut off, and every avenue blocked up by the vigilant Romans. In addition to this, intestine divisions, civil wars and pestilence raged within the walls of the city. Having no employment in fighting the enemy, they fell to butchering each other. These things proved their ruin, and their national sun went down in blood. Every day thousands closed their eyes in death through famine and pestilence; and thousands by endeavoring to escape to the enemy and surrender themselves up as prisoners for safety and protection, were either cut down by the Roman sword, or met the same fate from their own countrymen. Here they appeared! All hopes of life cut off, nothing presented itself to their view, to end their woes, but the certain prospect of an untimely tomb! Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, gazing upon each other in silent expectation, saw death gradually advancing in all its horrors. They were driven to the most dreadful extremities, until (is Josephus informs us) "they devoured whatever came in their way; mice, rats, serpents, lizards, even to the spider"--and lastly mothers were driven to eat the flesh of their own children! Here were lamentation and wo indeed! Such tribulation as our Saviour says never was, and never will be. In imagination the mind runs back to the period, and to the fatal spot. It surveys the painful scene, characterized by nought but moral and physical woes--madness and revenge, cruelty and carnage, pestilence and famine, and all the mingled horrors of war! It surveys the starving child clinging to the maternal bosom for help and protection, but alas! That bosom becomes its grave. Here the ungodly and the sinner appeared in deep despair! Unfeeling mortal, do you say that their punishment and sufferings were not sufficiently great, without adding that of immortal pain in the future world? Are you not satisfied without arguing that they ought to suffer endless misery in addition to their woes? Look with an unjaundiced eye over this scene of distress; and as you gaze let justice (if not compassion) once more take the throne of the heart, and then pronounce the shocking sentence of your creed if you can. That their sufferings were overwhelming is evident from scripture as well as from history. In Lam. iv. The prophet Jeremiah says--"The hands of the pitiful women have sodden their own children, they were their meat in the destruction of the daughter of my people." In Lev. Xxvi. Moses describes their sufferings as follows--"And I will bring a sword upon you, that shall avenge the quarrel of my covenant: and when ye are gathered together within your cities, I will send the pestilence among you, that shall make you few in number; and ye shall be delivered into the hand of the enemy. And when I have broken the staff of your bread ten women shall bake your bread in one oven, and they shall deliver you your bread again by weight; and ye shall eat and not be satisfied. And if ye will not for all this hearken unto me but walk contrary unto me; then I will walk contrary unto you also in fury; and I, even I, will chastise you seven times for your sins. And ye shall eat the flesh of your sons, and the flesh of your daughters shall ye eat." This did come upon the sinner and the ungodly, and it was "according to their sins." Moses, Jeremiah, and Jesus spake particularly of the sufferings of the Jews in the destruction of their city and they all agree in concluding their chapters. Moses in conclusion says, "and they shall accept of the punishment of their iniquities, even because they despised my judgments, and because their soul abhorred my statutes; and yet for all that I will not cast them away neither will I abhor them to destroy them utterly and to break my covenant with them, for I am the Lord their God." And Jeremiah, after describing their sufferings in the 4th chapter of Lamentations concludes with these words--"The punishment of thine iniquity is accomplished, O daughter of Zion," &c. And Jesus, after denouncing upon them the judgments of heaven in Matt. xxiii. Concludes thus: "For I say unto you, ye shall not see me henceforth, till ye shall say, blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord." Thus we see that they agree in testifying to the same fact, that the punishment of the ungodly and the sinner, which mean, no other than the Jewish nation in their overthrow and dispersion as we have already noticed, shall end. I see therefore no arguments, that can be drawn from our text, to prove a future judgment or endless misery in the immortal world. If the objector can see a shadow of evidence in this passage to support such a sentiment, yet I must frankly acknowledge that, for myself, I cannot. There is certainly no word in the text, that has the most distant allusion to the final condition of man. The _judgment_ began at the apostles and christians. But is the _"last judgment"_ to begin at them? Certainly not. But admit that it is; we would further inquire, did the last judgment begin as early as the days of Peter? Impossible. Then he could certainly not have had any allusion to such a day, for he exclaims: "_the time is come_ that judgment must begin at the house of God." Here the judgment to which he refers had commenced, or at least the _signs_ portending it had commenced, and it was to end upon the ungodly inhabitants of Jerusalem. This fact is evident from the context--"Beloved, think it not strange concerning the _fiery trial_ which is to try you, as though some strange thing had happened unto you; but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings, that when his glory shall be revealed ye may be glad also with exceeding joy." From this quotation there can arise no misapprehension as to Peter's application of the text, nor of the persons it involves. They were the persecutors of the christians, and no one will dispute that these were the Jews. If then this judgment was at hand, it cannot of course refer to a period at the end of time; and it is in this case equally certain, that the _scarce salvation_ of the christians can have no reference to the immortal world. These facts being irresistible, the argument must be wholly given up that "the ungodly and the sinner" were to appear in a state of inconceivable torment beyond the grave, because the _condition_ of "the ungodly" stands in contrast with the _scarce salvation_ of the righteous, and this _salvation or deliverance_ was to be in a day nigh at hand, and from a tribulation or judgment in which their adversaries and persecutors were to be involved, and the _signs_, by which the apostle was admonished of its proximity, had already appeared when he wrote the words of our text. The meaning of his words, I humbly conceive, is simply this--The time _is come_ when the persecutions, predicted by Christ as a _sign_ of the approaching destruction of Jerusalem, must begin at us. And if we the righteous who are innocent, have to endure so many "fiery trials," what will the dreadful punishment be of our disobedient persecutors? And if we are _scarcely saved_ from this impending destruction, by fleeing to the mountains of Judea, where will our thoughtless and sinful appear? We have endeavored to show you where they appeared--have pointed out the narrow escape of the christians, who were "scarcely saved," and referred you to the _signs_ by which Peter knew this judgment was at hand. It is therefore unnecessary to offer any thing further in defense of our views, as the text is, no doubt, plainly understood by every reader. We close this discourse by noticing one very common objection, made by our religious opposers, to our application of several scriptures. I do this, because I am not aware that it has been done by any Universalist as a _designed_ answer to the objection. The substance of the objection is this:-- _There is not a passage in the New Testament which speaks of a day of judgment, of the end of the world and of the coming of Christ, but what Universalists apply to the destruction of Jerusalem. Then, they contend, "every man was rewarded according to his works," consequently all subsequent nations are not to be rewarded, nor are they to experience a day of judgment_. In reply to this objection I would remark, that we are not answerable for the many passages which the Saviour and his apostles applied to that event. But if we make a wrong application of any scripture, why do not our opposers point out the error? We will now show why the apostles wrote so much in reference to that period. They do not so frequently speak of that event merely on account of the destruction of their temple city and nation, (though that might justify their frequent reference to it) but there were circumstances of a more imposing and momentous character to attract their attention to that catastrophe. These were the abrogation of the Mosaic rituals and the introduction of a new order of things by Jesus Christ of whom Moses and the prophets wrote. This was a period when every christian was to be delivered from the persecution of the Jews, and the spread of the gospel was to be retarded no longer by their opposition. The Jews as a nation were to be punished for their deeds of blood, and that _spiritual reign or judgment_ commence which should pass upon all subsequent generations of men, rewarding every man according to his works. The _gospel reign_ is called "the _judgment of the world_" by Jesus Christ, in the same sense that Moses judged the world two thousand years by the law. Jesus says, "Think not that I will accuse you to the Father, for there is one that _judgeth_ you even Moses in whom ye trust." From this it is evident that Moses was then judging the Jews. But this covenant was abolished at the destruction of Jerusalem. Paul says, "he taketh away the _first_ that he may establish the _second_." The word of God, in this covenant, is spiritual and sharper than any two-edged sword--it is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart, while that of Moses was outward, and took cognizance of the conduct only. The objections of our opposers are therefore unsound. And though we apply those passages, which speak of a judgment, to the destruction of the Jews, yet that judgment or reign of Christ which then commenced, is yet going on, and will continue till all are subdued to himself. He then came in his kingdom, and will continue to reward every man according to his deeds till his kingdom ends. So we this day experience the effects of his coming, and of his judgment or reign, and are justified or condemned according as we embrace or reject the words of everlasting life. We see therefore the propriety of the apostles dwelling so much upon that great event, which should witness the passing away of the types and shadows and the establishment of the gospel of Jesus Christ. SERMON XXI "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." 1 Cor. xv:20. The death and resurrection of all mankind are a theme of no ordinary moment, and have given birth to many theories and speculations among the advocates of Christianity. The common opinion is that one portion of our race will be raised to immortal life and glory in the future world, and the other to immortal damnation and dishonor--that at the same instant the living will be changed and that the whole human family will, in this condition, be arraigned before the "Judge of quick and dead," and receive their irrevocable sentence for endless joy or endless wo. Others believe, in opposition to these limited views of the divine character, that the resurrection is the closing scene of the great plan of salvation, and that no judgment is to succeed it. This resurrection, they believe, will introduce the numerous posterity of Adam into the same condition of immortal glory and honor, being made, by the power of God, "equal unto the angels, and be the children of God being the children of the resurrection." As to the _judgment day_, they do not believe, that the whole human family will be congregated in one amazing throng at one period of time, but that the judgment of the world, by Jesus Christ, commenced at the destruction of Jerusalem, when the Mosaic dispensation, with all its imposing rituals, passed away, and that this _judgment_, or in other words, this _gospel reign_ of Christ, is still progressing, and will completely terminate before the resurrection takes place. Notwithstanding this view of the day of judgment, yet they suppose that the _resurrection day_ is a designated period when the cerement of the dead shall burst, and all the slumbering nations, simultaneously, start up from their beds of clay, the living at the same instant be changed to immortal beings, and this countless throng, in one unbroken strain, shout--"O death! Where is thy sting? O grave! Where is thy victory"? Though this scene would be full, and immortally sublime, and disclose a grandeur which a seraph's eloquence never can describe, yet I take the liberty to dissent from this long and fondly cherished opinion, and will humbly endeavor to present you my views on the immortal resurrection of the human dead. The ideas I have advanced in my sermons on the _new birth_, require me to do this. And no one has more occasion to rejoice than myself, that we are bound by no creeds, and that the preachers of our order encourage and cherish free investigation. Among such able and benevolent theologians, I feel conscious, if I err, that they will endeavor, in the spirit of meekness, to set me right. I therefore hold no one responsible for the ideas I am now about to advance. I am by no means in favor of new theories built upon mere human speculations, nor do I deem it an enviable task to make innovations on the long and universally established opinions of the christian community. I shall simply appeal to the scriptures to sustain me in my present exposition, and by that standard I am willing my views should be tried, for by that alone, they must ultimately stand or fall. From the text we have selected, it might, perhaps, be expected, that we should proceed to prove the final holiness and happiness of the human family by showing, that he who is "made alive in Christ is a new creature"; but as this has, heretofore been done so often and so ably, we shall confine our attention, principally, to the different scripture accounts of the resurrection of the dead, and endeavor to ascertain whether it is indeed, to take place at the end of time and be general, or whether it is continually transpiring as gradual as the successive deaths of our race in Adam. And here I would distinctly remark, that the dead are represented as being raised at the coming of Christ. This is admitted and believed by all. But where, I ask, is there in the Book of God _one passage_ to prove any coming of Christ after the destruction of the Jewish polity when he commenced his _gospel reign_, called the _judgment of the world_? This was his _second_ coming; but where but where is there a _scrap_ of scripture to prove his _third_ coming at the end of time? For one, I have searched in vain for such testimony. That Christ came in his kingdom, during the life time of the persons he addressed, and then commenced the judgment of the world, is certain. This is not, however, admitted to be that coming of Christ when the dead will be raised immortal. Where then is revealed that _third_ coming of our Lord, at the end of time, to raise the dead? I think it will be an unsuccessful task for any man to search it out and bring it forward. I would not be understood to say, that no destruction will attend this earth. On the contrary philosophy seems to warrant the idea. But the scriptures no not, in my apprehension, reveal such a catastrophe, nor a _third_ coming of Christ, nor a general resurrection at that period. The reader may, perhaps, here inquire whether the scriptures do not clearly describe the resurrection of all mankind to be at one instant of time? I answer, no more than they describe the judgment of all mankind to be at the same instant. But, says the reader, the resurrection is to be at the coming of Christ, which must be at some designated period. Very well; the judgment was to be at the coming of Christ to the destruction of the Jewish state, and does not this designate some particular period? If so, how are we judged in the present day? If the judgment day, which _then_ commenced, has not yet ended, why may not the resurrection day be still progressing? If you contend, that the dead were all to rise at once, then by the same mode of scripture interpretation, I can prove that all the living were to be judged at once. Acts xvii. 31. "Because he hath appointed A DAY in the which, he will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom he hath ordained, whereof he hath given this assurance unto all men, in that he hath raised him from the dead." 2 Cor. v.10. "For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that every one may receive the things in body, according to that he hath done, whether good or bad." Though this event is represented as transpiring in _one day_, and as though all men were literally arraigned at the same instant, still all Universalist admit, that it commenced at the destruction of Jerusalem, has passed upon succeeding generations, and will continue from the present down to subsequent ages, so long as human beings shall have a habitation on earth. This is called the _last day_. Jesus says--"the word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him in the _last day_." So I contend, that though the resurrection is also called the last day, and represented as raising all mankind at one instant of time, still simply means, that the doctrine of Christ (viz. The judgment and resurrection) should, at his coming in his kingdom, be fully revealed to the living by their seeing his prophesies fulfilled in the abrogation of the ceremonial law, and this doctrine of life and immortality be permanently established and commence its sway over the living, as the last and best system of God to man, and this _resurrection day_ continue down to all subsequent generations of slumbering dead, raising every man in incorruption and glory. The judgment and resurrection of the world are therefore both progressing, for these two constitute the gospel reign of Christ. He is "the resurrection and life of the world," as well as "judge of quick and dead." Both are to be accomplished in the _last day_, and that day is now progressing. A _general_ resurrection, at the last vibrating pendulum of time, cannot I humbly conceive, be substantiated by the oracles of truth, any more than a _general_ judgment. I am rather inclined to think that _the judgment of the world by Jesus Christ expresses the whole, including the resurrection and all; even as the high priest, clothed with the breastplate of judgment on the day of atonement, closed his services by raising the nation into the holy of holies, "which was a pattern of things in the heavens_." If the Scriptures afford us any evidence of the _third_ coming of Christ, to raise the dead, for one, I must acknowledge my utter ignorance of the fact. In John (chap. vi.) Jesus several times uses the expression, "and I will raise him up at the last day." If others contend that this has reference to "_the last day of the last generation of the human race on the earth_," yet I must candidly acknowledge, that I cannot see a shadow of evidence to prove this position. The _last day_ in this instance, refers to the gospel dispensation, which commenced at the destruction of the temple, and involves the whole reign of Christ. It is synonymous with the "day of Christ" and the "day of the Lord" mentioned in several places by the apostles. Nor do I conceive it means, that Christ would raise them up by his own immediate power, but that God would raise the dead according to that doctrine, which he sent his Son to reveal to men, and this would be fully established in the world, and be believed and felt by Jew and Gentile Christians at the coming of Christ in his kingdom, at the end of that dispensation. _Then_ and not till _then_ were the predictions of Christ fulfilled, and then were those Christians, who had not seen Jesus after his resurrection, "made perfect in faith." The dead are to be raised at the _last_ trump; by which I understand the _seventh_, for no other _last_ is revealed. This trump is mentioned by our Saviour (Matt. xxiv. 31.) and is the gospel trump which was to commence its sound at the destruction of Jerusalem. In Rev. chap. viii, seven trumpets were given to seven angels, who are represented as sounding them in succession, and increasing woes following, till the sixth trumpet sounded. But when the seventh angel sounded and the last dreadful wo passed away, a very different order of things followed. Rev. x. 7. "But in the days of the voice of the seventh angel when he shall begin to sound, the mystery of God should be finished as he hath declared to his servants the prophets." Rev. xi. 15. "And the seventh angel sounded, and there were great voices in heaven, saying, the kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever." Now compare these woes and this subsequent order of things with the tribulations Christ described in Matt xxiv chap. And the subsequent life the righteous entered into, and you will readily perceive that both refer to the destruction of Jerusalem and the commencement of Christ's auspicious reign. (The Revelations were certainly written before that event.) When the seventh angel sounded, Christ came in his kingdom and began his reign; and that he began his reign when the trumpet sounded, and the woes recorded in Matt. Xxiv. And xxv. Chapters took place, will not be denied. This settles the point that the _seventh or last_ trump was not to sound at the close of Christ's reign, but at its commencement. And under this last sounding trump the dead were to be raised immortal, and those who were alive when it commenced its sound, were to be suddenly changed in their circumstances and feelings as described in the context. It was the day of their redemption from all their trials and persecutions, and doubts and fears. That this was the period when the Christians entered the _resurrection day_ as well as the _judgment day_ under Christ is certain. They entered into the full enjoyment of that most sublime of all doctrines in the faith of which they not only saw the dead raised immortal and free from pain, but felt themselves new beings. They were exalted from the dust to high and "heavenly places in Christ," were "caught up to meet the Lord in the air," were seated "on thrones and made priests and kings to God and reigned with Christ." There "they shone like the brightness of the firmament and the stars forever and ever," recognized the goodness of God in redeeming love, and sang the song of _certain victory_ over death and Hades. Then "the kingdom and dominion and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven was given to the saints of the MOST HIGH," and in this "kingdom of their Father they shone forth like the sun." The above promiscuous quotations from Scripture justify the expression, that the living were "changed in a moment at the last trump," which announced to the world the immortal resurrection of the dead. That this trump, whose sound proclaims the resurrection of all mankind, is the gospel trump, the doctrine of Christ, we cannot doubt. That the change of the living, in the context, has any reference to changing them into immortal beings, I cannot admit without further evidence. It is contrary to the whole tenor of revelation--it is contrary to our text, which declares that all, who are made alive in Christ first die in Adam. As the change of the living is an important point in our present investigation, we will give it further attention. That the Christians were to experience a great and sudden change at the destruction of Jerusalem is certain. They were to be delivered from all their trials and persecutions, and be raised into the full and felicitous enjoyment of the reign of Christ. Those Christians, who had not seen our Saviour alive from the dead, who had believed on the testimony of his apostles and of the "five hundred brethren," were delivered from all their doubts and fears on seeing his predictions fulfilled, were perfected in faith, and their "hearts established unblamable in holiness." This was to them a resurrection day, not only in reviving their faith and hope in the doctrine of the immortal resurrection of all that died in Adam, but in delivering them from their sufferings, and raising them into the sublime enjoyments of the reign of Christ. In reference to this period, Jesus says, "thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just." And Paul says, "If by any means I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead, not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect." What sense would there be in his saying--if by any means I might, by my exertions, become an immortal being, not as though I had already attained to immortal existence? No sense at all. But the apostles meaning is clear, if we render it thus--If by any means I might continue faithful unto the end, and obtain a crown of life in the first resurrection at that day when Christ shall come in his kingdom to destroy his enemies and to deliver and elevate Christians to honor. We shall notice this more particularly in our next when we come to comment on Philippians iii. Chap. Again he says--"Who concerning the truth have erred, saying the resurrection is past already, and overthrow the faith of some." That is, to make the Christians believe that their promised deliverance was past, while they were yet in the midst of their sufferings, was calculated to overthrow their faith. We will notice the change of the living still further. Jesus says, that those, who were in their graves, and had done good, should come forth to the resurrection of life. And Daniel says, that many of them who sleep in the dust of the earth should awake to everlasting life, and those, who were wise, should shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turned many to righteousness as the stars forever and ever. Here Daniel and Jesus represent the low, suffering, and distressed condition of the Christians previous to the destruction of Jerusalem, and their final deliverance and exaltation at that period, by sleeping in the dust, being dead in their graves, and suddenly coming forth to life and shining like the brightness of the firmament and the stars forever and ever. This is equivalent with being "caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air." The above changes are as great and as in instantaneous, as the apostle represents in the context,--"We shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye at the last trump; for the trumpet shall sound and the dead shall be raised incorruptible and we shall be changed." As if he had said we shall suddenly enter into the full fruition of that glorious gospel kingdom, whose trump shall then begin, and continue to sound down to the remotest periods of that "_last day_" proclaiming the incorruptible resurrection of all the dead, and at the same time changing the living from the low, sorrowful, and groveling thoughts of earth to the sublime and joyful contemplations of "life and immortality brought to light through the gospel." So the _last day_, in which the last trump sounds, and the dead are raised, embraces the whole gospel reign of Christ. The _resurrection_ is coeval in duration with the _judgment_ of the world; for both are called the last day, and both are represented as involving all mankind in one assemblage to be judged and in one assemblage to be raised. [To be continued.] SERMON XXII "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." 1 Cor. xv:20. We have already shown that the _judgment_ of the world is called the "_last day_," in which all human beings are to stand at the Judgment Seat of Christ, and receive according to their deeds. We have shown, that this day commenced at the end of the Jewish age, and is to continue down to all succeeding generations, so long as human beings shall have a habitation on earth. We have shown that the _resurrection_ is also called the "_last day_," in which all the dead are to be raised immortal. We have shown that, as a doctrine of God, it was permanently established in the world at the end of the Jewish dispensation--that the last or gospel trump then commenced its sound, proclaiming the immortal resurrection of all who "die in Adam," and at the same time changed those who were then alive--and that it shall continue to sound to the remotest periods of this last day, proclaiming the resurrection of the dead and changing or reforming the living. We have shown that the _judgment and resurrection_ constitute the gospel doctrine of Christ, and, as such, both were established in the world at the same time, and are both called the "_last day_," in which all men are in succession to be judged, and raised immortal. The apostle Paul, when discussing to his hearers, either the judgment or the resurrection, looked forward to that interesting period, when they were to be established in the world, and, with a giant effort, grasped in one view, the beginning and end of this brilliant, sublime, and everlasting DAY, and presented it in mental vision to his persecuted and almost desponding brethren as one instantaneous, transporting and triumphant event, in which the world was to be judged, the living changed, the dead raised immortal and incorruptible, and the rapturous song of final victory was to be sung over death, its sting and the grave. We will now proceed to notice those passages, which are applied to the immortal and general resurrection of the dead, point out their misapplication, and reconcile them with the views we have advanced. We will _first_ notice our context. And here it will be necessary to ascertain the condition of those whom Paul addresses. He introduces the chapter by referring to the many witnesses of Christ's resurrection, and commences his argument in proof of this fact, and against those christians, who had not been eye-witnesses, but who had professed faith in his resurrection _merely_ on the testimony of the apostles. These christians were suffering persecution, and were, of all men most "miserable" if Christ were not risen from the dead; as in such case, their future deliverance and exaltation at his predicted coming, were but a visionary dream. And as their Lord seemed to delay his coming, "some among them (being discouraged) began to say, there was no resurrection of the dead." The great evidence, to which they were looking for the final proof of his being the true Messiah was the fulfillment of all which the prophets had written of "the daily sacrifice being taken away, the holy people being scattered" and of the glory of the Messiah's kingdom and reign, and of all, which Jesus himself had predicted of his coming to destroy their persecutors, to put an end to the Mosaic dispensation, and to raise them to a state of exaltation in his kingdom. They had not seen Jesus alive from the dead as had the apostles; and however much they might be inclined to credit their testimony, yet their severe persecutions and sufferings, and the protracted period of his coming would, very naturally, create, in their hearts many doubts and fears as to its truth. These are the persons, whom Paul addresses in our context, and labors to keep them in the faith by presenting the _whole weight_ of testimony in favor of the resurrection of Christ, on which he hinged the resurrection of man. He summons before them more than five hundred eye-witnesses, of whom himself was one, to satisfy them of the fact, and summons all the powers of philosophy in nature. He refers them to grain sown in the earth, and its coming forth in a new body. He refers them to all the various species of flesh, of men, beasts and birds on the earth, and to the glory of the sun, moon and stars in the heavens --all differing from one another--to prove that God is able to prepare an immortal body, differing from all these, and raise man immortal! As he passes on, reveling in the greatness of his strength, and absorbed in the immensity of his theme, his argument gathers force, till earth and heaven appear to be in motion before him! He ranges the universe, summons to his aid the power of God, lays his masterly hand upon every fact, gathers them in his grasp, condenses them before his hearers, and, in one overwhelming burst of eloquence, makes the whole bear upon the resurrection of Christ and of man! He refers them to the coming of his Lord, at which time will be the end of the Jewish age. Then their sufferings and persecutions terminate, their darkness, fears and doubts will be removed, they will be ushered into the glorious reign of Christ, behold this _last_ and brightest day, hear the _last_ joyful trump sounding, see the dead by an eye of faith arising, and themselves as living men changed. These would be Christ's at his coming. Then he would receive his kingdom and begin his auspicious reign. No fact is more certain than that Christ was to commence his reign at the sound of the _last trump_. Not an instance can be produced, where Jesus has revealed to his apostles, that any trump was to sound subsequent to the one, which announced his coming in his kingdom at the end of the Jewish age. If any one can produce scripture authority where a trump is to sound at the close of his reign, or at the end of time, or even produce testimony to prove the end of time, I will publicly and gratefully acknowledge the favor. Perhaps the 24th verse of the context will be brought forward for this purpose: "Then cometh the end, when he shall have delivered up the kingdom to God, even the Father; when he shall have put down all rule, and all authority, and power." This, as it reads, is no objection to my views; but I contend that this is not a correct rendering of the passage. Every careful reader will perceive, that it stands in perfect contradiction with verse 28th: "And when (notice the word when) all things shall be subdued unto him, then shall the Son himself also be subject unto him that put all things under him, that God may be all in all." This verse teaches a future reign and future subjection, after the kingdom is delivered up to God. What propriety is there in saying, "_when all things are subdued unto him_," after he has resigned his kingdom? What has he to subdue, after the kingdom is delivered "up to God, even the Father". Certainly nothing. I readily grant, that in the modern edition of the Greek Testament I have before me, it is rendered in the dative case, "_teen basileian to Theo kai Patri;" "the kingdom to God even the Father_." But I perused, several years since, a short criticism by an English writer (whose name I cannot recall, nor the periodical which contained it) on this very phrase in which the author stated that in an early Greek manuscript, he had in his possession, it was rendered in the nominative case, "_teen basileian ho Theos kai Pater_." This would reverse the present translation, and cause it to read--"_Then cometh the end when God even the Father shall deliver to him (Christ) the kingdom_." The writer however argued, that as the chapter referred to the general resurrection at the end of time, it seemed to read far better as Christ's mediatoriol kingdom would then terminate. This is mere assertion founded upon preconceived opinions. I will, however, produce direct authority to support my views. I will here present the reader with Wakefield's translation of this passage, whose scholarship will be doubted by none: "_Then will the end be, when God the Father delivereth up the kingdom to him, during which he will destroy all dominion, and all authority and power; for he will reign till he hath put every enemy under his feet; and so the enemy death will be destroyed at last_." Here, then, we perceive that instead of its referring to the end of time, and to the Son's delivering up the kingdom to the Father, it simply refers to the end of the Jewish dispensation, when the Father delivered to his Son a kingdom, and when he _commenced_ his reign. This gives harmony, strength and consistency, to the whole connection closing with the 28th verse, and is in perfect agreement with the whole tenor of revelation, which no where speaks of the end of time. But according to the received translation, he first delivers up the kingdom to God, then commences his reign, subdues all things, destroys death, and is then subject to the Father! Let it be distinctly noticed that this "_end_" is at Christ's coming. But where, I again ask, is revealed a _third_ coming of our Saviour? But again--The Ethiopic version also supports this rendering of the above passage, in agreement with Wakefield, which I consider as sufficient authority to settle the question, at least in my own mind. But even were there no other authority, than the general tenor of revelation, I should feel justified in my present exposition. To contend for a _general_ resurrection, we are in the same predicament with the orthodox in contending for a _general_ judgment. The above harmonizes (in my apprehension) with every other part of divine revelation, which embraces the testimony of the prophets, and of Jesus Christ and his apostles, who all speak of the _end_ as referring _exclusively_ to the termination of the Jewish age, at which time he should come in his kingdom and commence his reign. They also speak of the glory which should follow, and of the success that should attend it. But not _an instance can be produced, where they speak of the end of time_. He is to destroy the last enemy _death_; and this work is effected progressively in this _last day_, as individuals are in _succession_ raised from death, and established in their final and blissful condition affording us no revelation when this order of things will terminate. If it is a fact, that God the Father, at the sound of the "last trump," delivered to his Son the kingdom--if this be the correct rendering of the passage, as the whole tenor of revelation seems to justify, then it was at the commencement of his reign; and our views of the _resurrection day_ are irresistible. The apostle grasps, in mental vision, the whole subject, and represents it as one great and interesting event, big with sentiments of light and life, in the same sense that he does the judgment of the world, which revolved in his capacious soul as but one single day. The sudden and interesting change he represents as taking place in the living, has reference to the unexpected manner in which this sublime scene would burst on the world. In this he but follows the example of his Lord, who declared he would come as a "thief in the night"--that he would "come quickly," and in an hour they were not aware, and exhorted his disciples to watch. We will notice one more passage in the context, which may be urged as an objection. "Behold I show you a _mystery_; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye at the last trump; for the trumpet shall sound and the dead shall be raised incorruptible and we shall be changed." The _mystery_, here mentioned, refers to the change of those, who should be found alive at the coming of Christ in his kingdom, produced by the full revelation and establishment of that doctrine, which proclaims the immortal resurrection of all mankind _by being made alive in Christ_. It is the fulfillment of the following scriptures--Eph. i 9,10--"Having made known unto us the _mystery of his will_--that in the dispensation of the fullness of times he might gather together in one _all things in Christ_, both which are in heaven and which are on earth, even in him." This mystery was _then finished_ in the full revelation of his will to the doubting christians, whom Paul addresses in the context. This is evident from Rev. x:7--"But in the days of the voice of the _seventh angel_ when he _shall begin to sound_, the _mystery_ of God _should be finished_, as he hath declared to his servants the prophets." And that he began his reign when the mystery was finished is certain from Rev. xi. 15--And the seventh angel sounded; and there were great voices in heaven saying the kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord and his Christ, "and he shall reign forever and ever." Here we perceive that this _mystery of God's will_ was to be finished at the sound of the _seventh or last_ trump, which will is, to gather or make alive all things in Christ. And at this time he was to receive his kingdom and reign forever and ever. _"We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed,"_ has reference to those persecuted christians, who were not to "taste of death till they saw the Son of man coming in his kingdom." Phil. iii:20, 2l--"For our conversation is in heaven, from whence we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself." That this passage has reference to changing our _natural into immortal bodies_ at the resurrection, I see not a shadow of evidence to prove, either in established in their final and blissful condition the passage itself, nor in the context. The context we have already noticed by pointing out the resurrection to which Paul desired to attain. Chap. i:6--"He, that hath begun a good work in you, will perform it until _the day of Jesus Christ."_ Chap. iv:5--"Let your moderation be known unto all men. _The Lord is at hand_." "The day of Jesus Christ" and "the Lord is at hand" refer to his coming at the end of the Jewish age, and not to a resurrection at the end of time. Paul gave the Philippians notice of no other coming of Christ. The passage has reference to the change the living were to experience, at this coming of our Lord in his kingdom, by being delivered from their persecutions, doubts and fears, perfected in faith, and "established unblamable in holiness before God," so as to resemble in a moral and exalted sense those immortal beings in heaven who are here called the "glorious body" of Christ. The body to be changed embraces both Jew and Gentile christians, who were at that time to be raised from their lowly condition into his gospel kingdom and "shine forth like the sun." This is evident from the manner in which he commences: "For our conversation is in _heaven_, from _whence_ we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our _lowly body_ that it maybe fashioned like unto his glorious body." He contrasts the low and oppressed condition of the whole christian body with what will be their exalted condition at the coming of Christ, and that exalted condition will assemble that glorified body of beings in _heaven_ who died in his cause, and with whom they had their conversation, and from _whence_ they were expecting the Saviour. It has reference, I conceive, to the body in which Christ arose. The church is the body of Christ, and it is to be presented to himself a _glorious body_, not having spot, wrinkle, or any such thing. The Greek word _tapeinos_ rendered "vile," should be rendered _lowly or humble_. It will be noticed, by the reader, that the word _body_ is used in the _singular_ number and not in the plural, as some have quoted it in their writings. But if it refer to individual _forms_, it ought to be rendered in the _plural_--"who shall change our vile _bodies."_ But it means the whole church or body of believers--a collective body of individuals. In this sense the Greek word, _soma_, here rendered _body_ is frequently used in the New Testament. That the apostle does not refer to all mankind is evident from the fact, that after the vile body is changed according to the working, he adds--whereby he is able _even_ to subdue all things unto himself--That is, able _even_ to subdue all things as well as to change that body. If the passage refer to an immortal and general resurrection, or rather to the change of all the living into immortal beings, then there would be none to subdue after that period. But if we apply it to the coming of Christ in that generation, and to the change of the whole christian body, then all is plain and in perfect agreement with the preceding and succeeding context; also with 1 Cor. 15th chapter, and with the whole tenor of revelation, which speaks of but _one coming_ of our Saviour in his kingdom, and which shows that the work of subjection commenced after the change of the living at the last trump, whose sound announced the commencement of his reign. The word _kai_, rendered _even_, should probably have been rendered _also_. "Who shall change our lowly body--according to the working whereby he is able also to subdue all things to himself." The whole context, however, justifies the above exposition because the christians were looking for the coming of Christ at the end of that age, and exclaimed, "the Lord is at hand." [To be continued.] SERMON XXIII "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." 1 Cor. xv:20. In our last we noticed the context, and also taken into consideration the language of Paul on the coming of Christ and the change of the living in Phil. iii:20, 21. This, we have shown, has no reference to the mortal bodies of men being changed to immortal bodies, so as to resemble the personal form of Jesus Christ. If it refer to Jesus, still the resemblance would be _moral, not personal_, for no where do the scriptures teach, that we are in our personal appearance to be like our Saviour. But in a _moral_ sense, "we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." I do not say, that there will be no _personal_ resemblance between immortal beings and Christ. I fully believe there will be; but I mean that this personal resemblance is more a matter of course, than a doctrine of divine revelation. I do not read of the "glorious body" of Jesus in his immortal resurrection state. But the scriptures do compare the moral body of Christians on earth with the glorified body of holy beings in heaven, Heb. xii:22, 23--"But ye are come unto mount Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an in-numerable company of angels to the general assembly and church of the first-born, which are written in heaven, and to God the judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made made perfect." So far as the Christians were "established unblamable in holiness before God even our Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ with all his saints" so far as they were elevated to "shine as the brightness of the firmament and as the stars forever" so far as their moral condition and enjoyments were improved and enlarged, thus far, of course, the _lowly body_ of the church on earth would be changed into a moral resemblance of that "glorious body" of Christ, who were praising him in heaven. In _heaven_ the Christians had their conversation, from whence they were looking for the Saviour, as shortly to come, and fashion them into a moral resemblance of those saints above, who had died in his cause, and who were to come with him. From the whole context, the conclusion is irresistible that this change of the "vile body" was at the coming of the Lord _then_ at hand, and not at the end of time, as some imagine. Another scripture commonly applied to the _general_ resurrection of the dead, and a change of all the living is recorded in 1 Thess. iv:15, 16, 17--"For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not _be before_ them that are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and the trump of God; and the _dead in Christ_ shall rise first. Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in air, and so we shall be evermore with the Lord." That Paul here refers to the coming of Christ in his kingdom to establish his reign, and to elevate the Christians who were alive at that period, the _preceding_ and _succeeding_ contexts fully justify. And so I must understand his language, till some one can prove a third coming of Christ, and an _eighth_ sounding trump at the end of time. In the two preceding chapters, he dwells largely upon the persecutions of the Christians, exhorts them to be faithful, expresses his desire "to perfect that which is lacking in their faith," and concludes by saying--"To the end he may establish your hearts unblamable in holiness before God, even our Father, at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ _with all his saints."_ No one will deny that this has reference to his coming at the end of the Jewish age. Now would it not be doing injustice to this powerful and cogent reasoner to say, that he suddenly drops this subject without giving his brethren any warning, and runs off to the end of time, speaks of another coming of' Christ at which he is to raise, at the same instant, all the dead and change the living to immortal beings? And that he should again, as suddenly, drop this subject, and hasten right back to the coming of Christ at the destruction of Jerusalem? To charge him with this is certainly ungenerous. After stating that Christ should descend with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and the trump of God to exalt the dead and living, he adds--"But of the times and seasons, brethren, ye have no need that I write for yourselves perfectly know that the day of the Lord so cometh as a thief in the night. For when they shall say peace and safety then sudden destruction cometh upon them, and they shall not escape." There is no resisting the conclusion, that _"the day of the Lord"_ in this passage refers to the same period when "_the Lord himself shall descend from heaven_" in the passage above; which must be at the destruction of Jerusalem. He quotes Christ's own language, Matt. xxiv:43. See also 2 Peter iii:10. In both places, the sudden coming of Jesus is compared to a "thief in the night." But where is a _general_ resurrection, at the end of time, clearly stated, that he had no need to inform them of the times and seasons, because they already perfectly knew? Where is sudden destruction to come upon any in that day? For one, I find no such revelation. Though the doctrine of immortal resurrection of all mankind was fully revealed, and established in the world at the coming of Christ in his kingdom; yet that particular point is not argued by the apostle in the scripture on which we are commenting. He is not speaking of all mankind, nor of the immortal resurrection; but as in Phil. iii:20, 21, so _here_ he is speaking of the Christians _only_ who should be alive when that scene burst and of those dead _only_ who had died in the cause of Christ. "The dead in Christ" cannot possibly include those who died previous to his birth, but those only who died in the faith of his doctrine previous to his coming in his kingdom. We might reason this point at large, but deem it unnecessary till some one proves how those, who never heard of a Saviour, could be said to die in Christ, or to be dead in him. I would, however, remark that the Greek preposition _en_ may be rendered, _on account of_. The phrase would then read thus--_the dead on account of Christ_. Wakefield renders it thus--"_they who have died in the cause of Christ_." That this is its true sense, I have not a doubt. Let one thing here be distinctly noticed: Paul says--"For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain," &c. Now where has our Lord ever said, when speaking of the immortal resurrection, that some would be alive, and be changed to immortal beings? Nowhere. This single circumstance ought to make every man pause before he asserts such a change to be true. Read Christ's language in all three of the Evangelists where he addresses the Sadducees; and he speaks only of the dead being raised, but not of any one being changed. Read his language, John vi:39--"And this is the Father's will which hath sent me, that of all which he hath given me I should lose nothing, but raise it up again at the last day." Nothing is here said about changing the living to immortal beings. The Father has given all into the hands of his Son; and if he is to _raise_ them up at the last day, then all must die, for the _change_ of the living is not the _resurrection_ of the dead. How then could Paul tell his brethren, "by the word of the Lord," that they were to be thus changed? He could not because there is not a "thus saith the Lord" to support it. But Paul had the word of the Lord support the change in the living which we have pointed out. Christ said, "the righteous should go into life eternal," they "that endured unto the end should be saved" that "they should shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father," and that "they should be recompensed at the resurrection of the just." But, inquires the reader, were those who died in the cause of Christ raised immortal at his coming? No, they were not. It simply means that they were in that day to receive their elevated stations of glory and and honor in the gospel kingdom, so much so, as if they had been alive. The living Christians, in this respect, were not to be before them. Having suffered and died in the cause of Christ, they were in the minds of the living to "shine as the stars forever and ever" in the kingdom of Christ, because they had turned many to righteousness. The Lord had, as it were, delayed his coming, and many had given up faith in Christ's resurrection, and were sorrowing without hope over their friends who had fallen asleep in his cause. They of course had no faith in the immortal resurrection of their friends, nor in the fulfillment of Christ's predicted coming to raise their names to unfading honor for having labored and died in his cause. We are not to understand that those departed saints were _literally_ exalted to elevated stations in Christ's kingdom on earth, any more than Christ _literally_ came. But as Jesus was _in that day_, at the end of the Jewish age, "crowned with glory and honor," as king on the mediatorial throne of the universe, so were his apostles elevated on thrones of glory with him. Jesus says, "when the Son of man shall sit on his throne of glory, ye also shall also sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel." Now certain it is, that Jesus did take his throne, when he came in his glory, at the destruction of the temple. Then it is equally certain, that the apostles and martyrs also took their's at the same period and in the same sense. _Then_ Christ came and "his holy angels" and all the saints came with him; not literally, but in the same sense that he himself came. Luke ix:26, 27--"For whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed when he shall come in his own glory and of his Father's and of the holy angels; but I tell you of a truth there be some standing here which shall not taste death till they see the kingdom of God." I Thess. iii:13--"To the end he may establish your hearts unblamable in holiness before God our Lord even our Father, at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ with all his saints." Here we perceive, that he was to come "_with all his saints and holy angels_." By his _holy angels_, we are to understand his gospel messengers or martyred apostles and by _his_ saints, those who had died in his cause. These are the persons who are said to be _dead in Christ, and asleep in Jesus_. By the words _dead and asleep_ we are not to understand their present extinction of existence in contrast with their immortal resurrection, but the supposed _low and disgraceful_ cause in which they died, or for which they were put to death by their persecutors, as malefactors. This _disgraceful condition_, in which their murderers viewed them as unchangeably sleeping, stands in contrast with their _triumphant exaltation_ at the coming of Christ. Their enemies would _then_ look upon them as having come forth from the dust of the earth and shining as the brightness of the firmament and as the stars forever and ever, and not as sleeping in perpetual infamy and dishonor. [See Daniel xii 2, 3, and John v:28, 29.] Their enemies (whether dead or alive) were to come forth to _shame, contempt, and condemnation_, which stand in contrast with the _glory and honor_ to which the Christians (whether dead or alive in Christ) were to be raised in the minds of the living even to succeeding generations. Let it be distinctly noticed that _these dead in Christ_ are not said to be raised _incorruptible and immortal_, but only caught up with the living Christians in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air--not _literally_, but in the same sense that the living saw the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven, so should they see his saints and holy angels raised from the slumber of infamy, and, together with the Christians who remained alive at that day, be exalted with him in the air. [See Matt. xxiv:30, 31--Mark xiii:26, 27--Luke xxi:27, 28, and Rev. i:7.] In these passages he is represented as "coming in the _clouds_ with his angels," who "gathered, with a great sound of the trumpet, his elect," and raised them to honor in his kingdom. And let me add--this is all the _change_ Christ has ever said should take place in the living at the sound of the Trumpet. I have no doubt that the Apostle had his eye upon the above words of our Lord when he said, "we shall be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air." It will here be plainly seen in what sense those who had died in the cause of Christ were _first_ raised. They are represented as coming with him at the destruction of the temple, and after that event the whole "body" was exalted together. The "vile body" of Christians on earth (vile indeed in the eyes of their enemies) was then "fashioned like unto his glorious body" of saints and angels in heaven who had died in his cause. That we have given a correct exposition of 1 Thess. iv:15, 16, 17, is evident from Paul's words 2 Tim. iv:7, 8--"I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a _crown of righteousness_, which the Lord, the righteous Judge shall give me at _that day_," &c. The phrase "_that day_" means not the day of Paul's death, but the day Christ should appear in the clouds of heaven at the end of the Jewish age. His _crown was merited_ for having "fought the good fight and kept the faith." The crown means that exalted honor he should then receive for having "turned many to righteousness." And not only himself, but all, "who love the appearing of Christ," should shine as the brightness of the firmament and as the stars forever and ever in his gospel kingdom among men. We this day look upon the martyrs and apostles as the lights of the Christian world and as occupying, on the sacred page, stations far more exalted than any ever conferred upon the greatest men of the universe. They are "made priests and kings to God" for dying in his cause, and thus establishing the truth of Christianity. This was the "first resurrection," and these were the persons who had a part in it, which no subsequent christians can ever can have. Rev. xx:6--"Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection, on such the second death hath no power, but they shall be priests of God and of Christ, and shall reign with him a thousand years." But if Christ had not come in his kingdom at the end of the Jewish age, as the prophets and himself had declared, then the whole Christian system must have fallen and the names of its martyrs and apostles remained buried in perpetual infamy as a set of deluded men and impostors. But, blessed be God, it is not so. They, by their faithfulness, have attained unto the "first resurrection" and thus broken the dark chains of infidelity into fragments. This is the _resurrection and change_ referred to in Phil. iii:20, 21, and 1 Thess. iv:15, 16, 17, on which we have commented. We have intentionally omitted till now Phil. iii:11, 12, as our ideas will be more readily comprehended here than in our introductory discourse, where we simply adverted to these words of Paul--"If by any means I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead--Not as though I had already attained either were already perfect," &c. Here we perceive that the resurrection unto which he desired to attain depended on his exertions in the cause of Christ, and being faithful unto the end. He says (verse 14)--"I press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." But what prize was this? Ans. It was a _part_ in the _first resurrection_ to which he desired to attain (verse 11) and he was not "perfect," he feared "lest after having preached to others himself might be a cast-away." He feared that he might not endure faithful unto the end. He was well aware that the promise was--"Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of life." To obtain this crown of life in the first resurrection, was the _highest prize_, the _highest calling of God_, ever suspended upon human merits! Paul did continue faithful, and as he was led to the thought of death, with composure and satisfaction exclaimed--"For I am now ready to be offered; and the time of my departure" is at hand. "I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a _crown of righteousness_, which the Lord the righteous Judge shall give me at that day, and not to me only, but unto all them also, that love his appearing." Here we perceive that Paul had continued faithful, and was entitled to the promised crown, which was awarded to him, and to all "the dead in Christ," who, on account of their faithfulness, had a part in the first resurrection--when he came in the clouds of heaven to establish his kingdom. It has nothing to do with the immortal resurrection of the dead, for that is not the reward of merit, but the gift of God. To _that_ all shall attain who die in Adam. But in the _first_ resurrection none had a part except those who died in the cause of Christ, and the living who continued faithful to the day of his appearing. On them and _them only_ devolved the honor of establishing the truth of Christianity for the happiness of future generations, by not only testifying that they had seen Jesus alive from the dead, but by cheerfully submitting to death, and showing themselves miracles of suffering in his cause. Both the departed and those that remained alive, attained to the first resurrection, were glorified together, and their crowns shall shine in the gospel heavens with undiminished splendor long after those of kings and tyrants shall be dimmed and lost in the vortex of revolutions. He concludes the chapter by noticing the change of the "vile body" which we have explained. Here then is no evidence of a general resurrection, nor of the end of time. The _context_, the _silence_ of Jesus about the change of the living into immortal beings, and the _whole tenor_ of revelation combine to set it at defiance. Of one thing I am satisfied; that no man ever _has_, and I believe, no man ever _can reconcile_ the change of the living and the resurrection of the dead recorded in Philippians and 1 Thessalonians with their respective contexts, so as to prove a general and immortal resurrection at the end of time. As I have traveled in an untrodden path, I do not know but that I may have erred in some minor points, but am satisfied that my general positions are sound and tenable. [To be continued.] SERMON XXIV "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." 1 Cor. xv:20. We have now come to that point in our subject where it will be necessary to cite a few passages to prove that the immortal resurrection is _successive, not general_, and will conclude by considering some of the principal texts, which may be urged as objections. We have already shown that the resurrection of the dead was to be at the sound of the last trump. And as that trump commenced sounding at the end of the Jewish age, when Christ came in his kingdom, I deem it sufficient to establish the fact that the dead are continually rising in this _last, this gospel day_. But the question presents itself-- were any of the human family raised immortal before that period? To this question I give an affirmative answer. I firmly believe, that the dead have been rising immortal from Adam to the present day, for God has never changed the established order of the universe. I believe that the dead are raised without any _miracle_, in the common acceptance of that term, as much as I believe that we are born, and die, not by a _miracle_, but according to that constitution of things which God has immutably established from the beginning. I believe this doctrine of Christ to be founded upon the unchanging principles of philosophy but so mysterious, that man in his present existence cannot comprehend the subtle causes and effects by which he shall put on immortality. It was, therefore, necessary that this sublime truth should be established in the world by the miracles Jesus wrought and by the miraculous power of God in raising him from death. The first man Adam was made by a miracle, while his posterity are naturally born into life, according to that constitution of things which God has established. So Christ, the second Adam, was born from the dead by a miracle, while mankind from the beginning, have, in succession, been born from the dead according to that constitution of things which he has established. On this principle, it may be stated as an objection, that as none of Adam's posterity could be born till their parent was created by a miracle, so none of the human family could be born from the dead, till Christ the second Adam were raised immortal by the miraculous power of God. This objection is futile unless it can be proved that Christ _creates_ life and immortality. In fact, it would even then fail;-- because Christ, as our sacrifice, was slain from the foundation of the world in the offerings made to God in his stead. The atonement, made by the high priest throughout the whole Mosaic dispensation, concluded by raising the Jewish nation in figure on his "breast-plate of judgment" into the holy of holies, which was a pattern of things in the heavens. The atonement always involved the resurrection. The judgment of the Jews, for two thousand years, by Moses only pointed out the resurrection of man in _figure_, but Christ proved the _reality_ by a tangible _fact_, and thus revealed it to the living as the doctrine of God of which the world had been ignorant. So what the _judgment_ of the world by Moses taught in _figure, the judgment_ of the world by Christ teaches in _reality_. My limits will not allow me to argue this point at large. I have already remarked, that I believe _"the judgment of the world"_ expresses the whole reign of Christ including the resurrection. We now proceed to notice the Scriptures. Matt. xxii. 31, 32. "_But as touching the resurrection of the dead, have ye not read that which was spoken unto you by God, saying, I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob? God is not the God of the dead, but of the living_." To this Luke adds, "_for all live unto him_." In order to make these words of Jesus refer to a general resurrection at the end of time, all writers have availed themselves of this last clause in Luke (on which Matthew and Mark are silent) and contend that it means--all live unto God who in his counsels views the future resurrection as present. But this exposition by no means satisfies my mind. If Abraham, Issac and Jacob are not raised--if they are yet wrapped in the insensibility of death, then God during that period is not their God. To illustrate this, we would remark, that Jehovah could not be Creator till something were created by him. He could not be Father till he had an offspring. He could not be Lord till he possessed property;-- neither could he be God till there were a worshipper. _Jehovah_ is the only abstract name he could possess, were he solitary and without a universe. All the other names ascribed to him are relative. The name God as much pre-supposes the actual existence of a _worshipper_ as that of father does the actual existence of a _child_. Remove the _child_, and the once doating parent is no longer to him a father. God is not, therefore, the God of the dead, for as such, they could not worship him. He is, however, Lord of both the dead and the living claiming them as his property. Abraham, Issac and Jacob were therefore alive, and worshipping him when those words were spoken to Moses, for in no other sense could he have been their God any more than he was before they were born. The phrase "_for all live unto him_," may, in this instance, embrace only the three patriarchs, as no others are involved in the quotation. The Sadducees believed in the writings of Moses only, and it is not at all probable, that Jesus referred to any persons, not mentioned by Moses, as it would have been no proof to the Sadducees. His argument is, to prove that the three patriarchs, _are raised_ according to their own writings, not _shall be raised_. Now that the _dead are raised_ Moses showed at the bush when he called God the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Here we perceive that "_the dead_" refers to the three persons whom Moses showed were raised. He then adds--for he is not the God of the _dead_ but of the _living_, for all live unto him--that is, the three patriarchs _all_ live to him. If the phrase embrace any others, it must be the living in eternity, not the living in the flesh nor the dead as such. It would make Jesus contradict himself in the same breath. "He is not the God of the _dead_, but of the _living_; for _all_ live unto him." To whom does this "_all_" refer? To the "_living_"; not the "_dead_," for in that case he would be the God of the dead. Luke ix. 30. "_And behold there talked with him two men, which were Moses and Elias_." The transfiguration of our Lord is recorded also by both Matthew and Mark, and it is plainly stated that the disciples "saw his glory and the two men that stood with him." If Moses and Elias were dead, their bodies crumbled to dust, and their minds in a state of insensibility, then they were not Moses and Elias who talked with him. Even if God had represented those two persons by other forms, they could no more have been Moses and Elias than Adam and Noah. It is _consciousness and memory_ which constitute personal identity; and if a conversation was carried on with Jesus by any means that human ingenuity can invent, while Moses and Elias were wrapped in as profound insensibility as the dust with which their bodies mingled, then it could not have been Moses and Elias who conversed with Jesus any more than if they had never had an existence. Perhaps it may be said that, as it is called a _vision_ by Matthew, it might have been nothing _real_. But as the word _horama_ means a _sight_ as well as _vision_, and as the other Evangelists do represent it as an actual appearance and nothing visionary, it is to be taken in this sense. Was it not a _reality_ that the three disciples saw Jesus transfigured, and though in that condition was it not still their _identical_ Lord? Certainly. Then the vision was so far _real_, and I see no ground on which the other personages can be considered phantoms. Mark says, "he charged them that they should tell no man _what things they had seen_," &c. See also Luke ix. 36. Here it is made certain that it was not an appearance in a dream, but a real and visible sight of three persons whose names are given. Consequently Moses and Elias were there as certain as was Jesus Christ. If so, they must have been raised from the dead, for man can have no conscious existence hereafter in a disembodied state. The scriptures teach that the resurrection is our only hope of a future conscious state of being. As to the translation of Elijah we shall not here notice it. Phil. i. 23, 24. "_For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ which is far better; nevertheless to abide in the flesh is more needful for you_." To depart and be with Christ must, I conceive, mean in the resurrection world, for in no other sense could he be with Christ so as to render his condition "far better." Nothing can be _good or bad_ for a man in a state of perfect insensibility, any more than for a man unborn--Neither could he be with Christ in such a State, any more than before he existed. Between the condition of a man in non-existence [pardon the expression] and in life, no comparison as to enjoyment or suffering can possibly be drawn. The apostle therefore draws a comparison between his present condition of conscious existence with his brethren, and his future condition of conscious existence with Christ which was far better. That Paul has reference, in the above, to an immortal existence in the resurrection, is evident from 2 Cor. v. 1, 2, 3, 4. "_For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands eternal in the heavens. For in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed upon with our house which is from heaven. If so be that being clothed we shall not be found naked. For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened, not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life_." If the above do not prove that the apostle expected to be clothed upon with his house from heaven shortly after his earthly tabernacle were dissolved, then I must acknowledge my ignorance of his meaning. He desires not to be unclothed so as to be found naked at the coming of Christ. By this I understand that between death and the resurrection there is a state of insensibility of several days duration, while the spiritual body is putting on, and if he died so near the coming of Christ, that the process was not completed, and mortality not swallowed up of life, he would be found naked, i.e. In the state of the dead. He therefore expresses no desire to be found unclothed at that period but clothed upon and present with Christ. This is evident from verses 6, and 7. "_Therefore we are always confident, knowing that whilst we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord. We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body and present with the Lord_." While in the body, though they had many consolations in the faith of Christ, though "he was with them always even unto the end of the age," though "to live was Christ," yet this condition he terms being _absent_ from the Lord in comparison to being _present_ with him, which cannot mean in the unclothed state of insensibility, but where "mortality is swallowed up of life." Let it be distinctly noticed, that the apostle is speaking of three states-- 1st. as being in this earthly house or body where they were absent from the Lord-- 2nd. as being unclothed and found naked at his coming for which they had no desire-- 3rd. As being absent from the body and present with the Lord where they should be clothed upon with their house from heaven that mortality might be swallowed up of life, for which they had a desire. Verse 9. "_Wherefore we labor that whether present or absent we may be accepted of him_." Here we perceive that they did not labor to obtain entrance into his presence, because the immortal resurrection is the gift of God. But they labored, whether _alive_ on earth or _immortal_ in heaven, that they might be accepted among those, who were worthy to obtain a crown of righteousness in the first resurrection for having continued faithful unto the end--that they might be worthy to form a part of that glorious body of witnesses in heaven who were slain for the testimony of Jesus. And the body of christians on earth, who continued faithful to the coming of Christ, were to be fashioned like those above, and receive the same exalted honor in his gospel kingdom, and the whole compose one bright body of infallible witnesses, whose testimony can never be shaken by all the powers infidelity. "To depart and be with Christ which is far better" must mean in an immortal existence. We cannot, for want of room, argue this part of our subject at large; --but the above is in perfect agreement with the philosophy of St. Paul, (1 Cor. 15,) where he compares the raising of the spiritual body to a grain of wheat sown in the earth. I would not be understood to say that this natural body of flesh and blood is ever to rise. No one, I presume, will contend that infants, youth and decrepid age, and those who are born deformed will be raised in that condition and all retain their various complexions. I believe, however, that there are those subtle materials in the natural body which, when extricated from the earthly tenement, and completely developed, shall produce the immortal being; and that these are as perfect in the infant as in the man. We will now conclude by anticipating and answering one or two principal objections. It may be objected that, if any one arose immortal before Christ, he could not have been "the first-born from the dead" as stated in Col. i. 18. This does not mean _first_ in the order of time, but in _rank_. It means _principal_, and is explained by the connecting phrase--"that in all things he might have the _pre-eminence_." It is more particularly explained in Rev. i. 5. "Jesus Christ the faithful witness and the first-begotten of the dead and the Prince of the kings of the earth." In connexion with this, we will introduce 1 Cor. xv. 20. "But now is Christ risen from the dead and become _first-fruits_ of them that slept." This also has reference to _rank_ and not to _first_ in the order of time. In evidence of this, we will quote Cruden,--"The day after the feast of the Passover, they brought a sheaf into the temple the _first-fruits_ of the barley-harvest. The sheaf was threshed in the court, and of the grain that came out they took a full homer; i.e. About three pints. After it had been well winnowed, parched and bruised, they sprinkled over it a log of oil; i.e. Near a pint. They added to it a handful of incense; and the priest that received this offering shook it before the Lord towards the four quarters of the world; he cast part of it upon the altar and the rest was his own. After this every one might begin their harvest. This was offered in the name of the whole nation, and by _this_ the harvest was sanctified unto them." Here let the question be asked--Was this sheaf called the _first-fruits_ because it was ripe before the whole harvest? No; it was not cut till the harvest was ripe. Was it called _first_ because the harvest would be _second_ in following it to the temple to be presented to God, by the priest, in the presence of the people? No; it was not to be carried to the temple, nor would the priest or the people ever see the whole harvest thus dedicated to God. But it was called "the _first_ of the ripe fruits," because it was offered to God in the presence of the people as an evidence of the consecration of the whole harvest throughout the nation. It was _first_ in distinction, or _importance_ without any allusion whatever to _first_ in the order of time. So "Christ was the _chosen_ of God, the _elect precious_, and the _Son_ consecrated forevermore." He was "the chief among ten thousand" and proved to be the Son of God with power by a resurrection from the dead without seeing corruption. In this condition he was presented to the people as an evidence of the resurrection and consecration of all mankind. In this he was _first and last_--that is, the _principal_, the _chief, the head_, and in _this_ he never _has had_, and never _will have a second_ in the order of time. This is no evidence therefore that he was the first one who ever rose to an immortal existence. We have positive proof that Moses and Elias were raised from the dead, an in a state of conscious existence for they conversed with our Lord in the presence of three of his disciples. They appeared in glory, and were two as real personages on the one part, as was our Saviour on the other. Acts xxvi. 23. _"That Christ should suffer, and that he should be the first that should rise from the dead, and should shew light to the people and to the Gentiles."_ This passage contains, perhaps, as plausible an objection against my views as any that can be produced. But this passage means, that Christ should be the _first_ who should show light to the Jews and Gentiles through a resurrection from the dead. The Greek word, here rendered "_should rise_," is _anastaseos_ from _anastasis_. It is a _substantive_, not a _verb_. Professor Leusden, in his Latin Testament, renders it "_ex resurrectione mortuorum"--by a resurrection from the dead_. The verb, _to raise, is egeiro_, and is six times applied to the raising of Christ from the dead in 1 Cor xv. _Anistemi_ also means _to rise_ and is applied to raising the dead to life. But neither--anistemi nor egeiro_ are used in the verse, but _anastaseos_--Consequently it cannot _literally_ be rendered "_should rise_," but _resurrection_. Wakefield translates it thus--"That Christ would suffer death and would be the _first_ to proclaim salvation to this people and the Gentiles _by a resurrection from the dead_." This is evidently the real sense of the passage, and I shall offer upon it no further comment. 
26760	----	MEMORIES OF BETHANY. By the REV. JOHN R. MACDUFF, D.D. Author of "MORNING AND NIGHT WATCHES," "WORDS OF JESUS," "MIND OF JESUS," "FOOTSTEPS OF ST. PAUL," "FAMILY PRAYERS," "MEMORIES OF GENNESARET," "STORY OF BETHLEHEM," ETC. NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, No. 530 Broadway. 1861. To MOURNERS IN ZION, with whom BETHANY has ever been a name consecrated to sorrow, these MEMORIES ARE INSCRIBED. PASSAGES REFERRING TO BETHANY IN THE SACRED NARRATIVE. I. Earliest Notice of Bethany. LUKE X. 38-42.--"And He entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received Him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard His word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to Him, and said, Lord, dost Thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." II. Bethany in connexion with the Sickness, Death, and Resurrection of Lazarus. JOHN XI. 1.--"Now a certain _man_ was sick, _named_ Lazarus, of BETHANY, the town of Mary and her sister Martha. (It was _that_ Mary which anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped His feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was sick.) Therefore his sisters sent unto Him, saying, Lord, behold, he whom Thou lovest is sick. When Jesus heard _that_, He said, This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby. Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. When He had heard therefore that he was sick, He abode two days still in the same place where He was." * * * "And after that He saith unto them, Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I go, that I may awake him out of sleep. Then said His disciples, Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well. Howbeit Jesus spake of His death: but they thought that He had spoken of taking of rest in sleep. Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead. And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe; nevertheless, let us go unto him." * * * "Then, when Jesus came, He found that he had _lain_ in the grave four days already. (Now BETHANY was nigh unto Jerusalem, about fifteen furlongs off.) And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary, to comfort them concerning their brother. Then Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met Him: but Mary sat _still_ in the house. Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. But I know, that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give _it_ Thee. Jesus saith unto her, Thy brother shall rise again. Martha saith unto Him, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day. Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: He that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth, and believeth in Me, shall never die. Believest thou this? She saith unto Him, Yea, Lord: I believe that Thou art the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the world. And when she had so said, she went her way, and called Mary her sister secretly, saying, The Master is come, and calleth for thee. As soon as she heard _that_, she arose quickly, and came unto Him. Now Jesus was not yet come into the town, but was in that place where Martha met Him. The Jews then which were with her in the house, and comforted her, when they saw Mary, that she rose up hastily and went out, followed her, saying, She goeth unto the grave to weep there. Then when Mary was come where Jesus was, and saw Him, she fell down at His feet, saying unto Him, Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, He groaned in the spirit, and was troubled, and said, Where have ye laid him? They say unto Him, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept. Then said the Jews, Behold how He loved him! And some of them said, Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man should not have died! Jesus therefore again groaning in Himself, cometh to the grave. It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it. Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto Him, Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been _dead_ four days. Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee, that, if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God? Then they took away the stone _from the place_ where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted up His eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee that Thou hast heard Me. And I knew that Thou hearest Me always: but because of the people which stand by I said _it_, that they may believe that Thou hast sent Me. And when He thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth. And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with grave-clothes; and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and let him go." III. Notices of Bethany subsequent to the Raising of Lazarus. JOHN XII. 1-8.--"Then Jesus, six days before the Passover, came to BETHANY, where Lazarus was which had been dead, whom he raised from the dead. There they made Him a supper; and Martha served: but Lazarus was one of them that sat at the table with Him. Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped His feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment. Then saith one of His disciples, Judas Iscariot, Simon's _son_, which should betray Him, Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor? This he said, not that he cared for the poor; but because he was a thief, and had the bag, and bare what was put therein. Then said Jesus, Let her alone: against the day of My burying hath she kept this. For the poor always ye have with you; but Me ye have not always." MATTHEW XXVI. 12-13.--"For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did _it_ for my burial. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, _there_ shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her." JOHN XII. 9.--"Much people of the Jews therefore knew that He was there: and they came not for Jesus' sake only, but that they might see Lazarus also, whom he had raised from the dead." * * * * * JOHN XII. 12-15.--"On the next day much people that were come to the feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, took branches of palm trees, and went forth to meet Him, and cried, Hosanna: Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the Lord. And Jesus, when He had found a young ass, sat thereon; as it is written, Fear not, daughter of Sion: behold, thy King cometh, sitting on an ass's colt." MATTHEW XXI. 10-12.--"And when He was come into Jerusalem, all the city was moved, saying, Who is this? And the multitude said, This is Jesus the Prophet of Nazareth of Galilee. And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the money-changers, and the seats of them that sold doves." MARK XI. 11-15.--"And Jesus entered into Jerusalem, and into the temple: and when He had looked round about upon all things, and now the eventide was come, he went out unto BETHANY, with the twelve. And on the morrow, when they were come from Bethany, He was hungry: And seeing a fig-tree afar off having leaves, He came, if haply he might find any thing thereon: and when He came to it, He found nothing but leaves; for the time of figs was not _yet_. And Jesus answered and said unto it, No man eat fruit of thee hereafter for ever. And His disciples heard _it_. And they come to Jerusalem: and Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the money-changers, and the seats of them that sold doves." Verse 19-20.--"And when even was come, He went out of the city. And in the morning, as they passed by, they saw the fig-tree dried up from the roots." * * * * * LUKE XXIV. 50-52--"And He led them out as far as to BETHANY; and He lifted up His hands, and blessed them. And it came to pass, while He blessed them, He was parted from them, and carried up into Heaven. And they worshipped Him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy." ACTS I. 9-12.--"And when He had spoken these things, while they beheld, He was taken up; and a cloud received Him out of their sight. And, while they looked stedfastly toward Heaven as He went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel; which also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into Heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into Heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen Him go into Heaven. Then returned they unto Jerusalem from the Mount called Olivet, which is from Jerusalem a Sabbath-day's journey." * * * * * ZECHARIAH XIV. 4.--"And His feet shall stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, which _is_ before Jerusalem on the east, and the Mount of Olives shall cleave in the midst thereof toward the east and toward the west, _and there shall be_ a very great valley; and half of the mountain shall remove toward the north, and half of it toward the south." * * * "And it shall be in that day, _that_ living waters shall go out from Jerusalem; half of them toward the former sea, and half of them toward the hinder sea: in summer and in winter shall it be. And the Lord shall be King over all the earth: in that day shall there be one Lord, and his name one." * * * "And it shall come to pass, _that_ every one that is left of all the nations which came against Jerusalem shall even go up from year to year to worship the King, the Lord of Hosts, and to keep the feast of Tabernacles." CONTENTS. I. OPENING THOUGHTS 1 II. THE HOME SCENE 11 III. LESSONS 24 IV. THE MESSENGER 34 V. THE MESSAGE 42 VI. THE SLEEPER 53 VII. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 67 VIII. THE MOURNER'S COMFORT 77 IX. THE MOURNER'S CREED 84 X. THE MASTER 92 XI. SECOND CAUSES 100 XII. THE WEEPING SAVIOUR 108 XIII. THE GRAVE-STONE 125 XIV. UNBELIEF 134 XV. THE DIVINE PLEADER 141 XVI. THE OMNIPOTENT SUMMONS 150 XVII. THE BOX OF OINTMENT 161 XVIII. PALM BRANCHES 178 XIX. THE FIG-TREE 191 XX. CLOSING HOURS 211 XXI. THE LAST VISIT 221 XXII. ANGELIC COMFORTERS 240 XXIII. THE DISCIPLES' RETURN 257 MEMORIES OF BETHANY I. OPENING THOUGHTS. Places associated with great minds are always interesting. What a halo of moral grandeur must ever be thrown around that spot which was hallowed above all others by the Lord of glory as the scene of His most cherished earthly friendship! However holy be the memories which encircle other localities trodden by Him in the days of His flesh,--Bethlehem, with its manger cradle, its mystic star, and adoring cherubim--Nazareth, the nurturing home of His youthful affections--Tiberias, whose shores so often echoed to His footfall, or whose waters in stillness or in storm bore Him on their bosom--the crested heights where He uttered His beatitudes--the midnight mountains where He prayed--the garden where He suffered--the hill where He died,--there is no one single resort in His divine pilgrimage on which sanctified thought loves so fondly to dwell as on the home and village of BETHANY. Its hours of sacred converse have long ago fled. Its honoured family have slumbered for ages in their tomb. Bethany's Lord has been for centuries enthroned amid the glories of a brighter home. But though its Memories are all that remain, the place is still fragrant with His presence. The echoes of His voice--words of unearthly sweetness--still linger around it; and have for eighteen hundred years served to cheer and encourage many a fainting pilgrim in his upward ascent to the true Bethany above! There, the Redeemer of the world proclaimed a brief but impressive Gospel. Heaven and earth seemed then to touch one another. We have the tender tones of a _Man_ blended with the ineffable majesty of _God_. Hopes "full of immortality" shine with their celestial rainbow-hues amid a shower of holy tears. The cancelling from our Bibles of the 11th chapter of St John would be like the blotting out of the brightest planet from the spiritual firmament. Each of its magnificent utterances has proved like a ministering-angel--a seraph-messenger bearing its live-coal of comfort to the broken, bleeding heart from the holiest altar which SYMPATHY (divine and human) ever upreared in a trial-world! Many has been the weary footstep and tearful eye that has hastened in thought to BETHANY--"gone to the grave of Lazarus, to weep there." "The town of Mary and her sister Martha," then, furnishes us alike with a garnered treasury of Christian solaces, and one of the very loveliest of the Bible's domestic portraitures. If the story of Joseph and his brethren is in the Old Testament invested with surpassing interest, here is a Gospel home-scene in the New, of still deeper and tenderer pathos--a picture in which the true Joseph appears as the central figure, without any estrangements to mar its beauty. Often at other times a drapery of woe hangs over the pathway of the Man of Sorrows. But _Bethany_ is bathed in sunshine;--a sweet _oasis_ in his toil-worn pilgrimage. At this quiet abode of congenial spirits he seems to have had his main "sips at the fountain of human joy," and to have obtained a temporary respite from unwearied labour and unmerited enmity. The "Lily among thorns" raised His drooping head in this Eden home! Thither we can follow Him from the courts of the Temple--the busy crowd--the lengthened journey--the miracles of mercy--the hours of vain and ineffectual pleading with obdurate hearts. We can picture Him as the inmate of a peaceful family, spirit blending with spirit in sanctified communion. We can mark the tenderness of His holy humanity. We can see how He loved, and sympathised, and wept, and rejoiced! As the tremendous events which signalised the close of His pilgrimage drew on, still it is _Bethany_ with which they are mainly associated. It was at _Bethany_ the fearful visions of His cross and passion cast their shadow on his path! From its quiet palm-trees[1] He issued forth on His last day's journey across Mount Olivet. It was with _Bethany_ in view He ascended to heaven. Its soil was the last He trod--its homes were the last on which his eye rested when the cloud received Him up into glory. The beams of the Sun of Righteousness seemed as if they loved to linger on this consecrated height. We cannot doubt that many incidents regarding His oft sojournings there are left unrecorded. We have more than once, indeed, merely the simple announcement in the inspired narrative that He retired from Jerusalem all night to the village where His friend Lazarus resided. We dare not withdraw more of the veil than the Word of God permits. Let us be grateful for what we have of the gracious unfoldings here vouchsafed of His inner life--the comprehensive intermingling of doctrine, consolation, comfort, and instruction in righteousness. His Bethany sayings are for all time--they have "gone through all the earth"--His Bethany words "to the end of the world!" Like its own alabaster box of precious ointment, "wheresoever the Gospel is preached," there will these be held in grateful memorial. The traveller in Palestine is to this day shewn, in a sort of secluded ravine on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives (about fifteen furlongs or two miles from Jerusalem), a cluster of poor cottages, numbering little more than twenty families, with groups of palm-trees surrounding them, interspersed here and there with the olive, the almond, the pomegranate, and the fig.[2] This ruined village bears the Arab name of El-Azirezeh--the Arabic form of the name Lazarus--and at once identifies it with a spot so sacred and interesting in Gospel story. It is described by the most recent and discerning of Eastern writers as "a wild mountain hamlet, screened by an intervening ridge from the view of the top of Olivet--perched on its open plateau of rock--the last collection of human habitations before the desert hills that reach to Jericho. ... High in the distance are the Peræan mountains; the foreground is the deep descent of the mountain valley."[3] "The fields around," says another traveller, "lie uncultivated, and covered with rank grass and wild flowers; but it is easy to imagine the deep and still beauty of this spot when it was the home of Lazarus and his sisters, Martha and Mary. Defended on the north and west by the Mount of Olives, it enjoys a delightful exposure to the southern sun. The grounds around are obviously of great fertility, though quite neglected; and the prospect to the south-east commands a magnificent view of the Dead Sea and the plains of Jordan."[4] "On the horizon's verge, The last faint tracing on the blue expanse, Rise Moab's summits; and above the rest One pinnacle, where, placed by Hand Divine, Israel's great leader stood, allow'd to view, And but to view, that long-expected land He may not now enjoy. Below, dim gleams The sea, untenanted by ought that lives, And Jordan's waters thread the plain unseen. * * * * * Here, hid among her trees, a village clings-- Roof above roof uprising. White the walls, And whiter still by contrast; and those roofs, Broad sunny platforms, strew'd with ripening grain. Some wandering olive or unsocial fig Amid the broken rooks which bound the path Snatches scant nurture from the creviced stone."[5] Before closing these prefatory remarks, the question cannot fail to have occurred to the most unobservant reader, why the history of the Family of Bethany and the Resurrection of Lazarus, in themselves so replete with interest and instruction--the latter, moreover, forming, as it did, so notable a crisis in the Saviour's life--should have been recorded only by the Evangelist John. Strange that the other inspired penmen should have left altogether unchronicled this touching episode in sacred writ. One or other of two reasons--or both combined--we may accept as the most satisfactory explanation regarding what, after all, must remain a difficulty. John alone of the Gospel writers narrates the transactions which took place in _Judea_ in connexion with the Saviour's public ministry,--the others restricted themselves mainly to the incidents and events of His _Galilean_ life and journeys; at all events, till they come to the closing scene of all.[6] There is another reason equally probable:--A wise Christian prudence, and delicate consideration for the feelings of the living, may have prevented the other Evangelists giving publicity to facts connected with their Lord's greatest miracle; a premature disclosure of which might have exposed Lazarus and his sisters to the violence of the unscrupulous persecutors of the day. They would, moreover, (as human feelings are the same in every age,) naturally shrink from violating the peculiar sacredness of domestic grief by publishing circumstantially its details while the mourners and the mourned still lingered at their Bethany home. Well did they know that that Holy Spirit at whose dictation they wrote, would not suffer "the Church of the future" to be deprived of so precious a record of divine love and power. Hence the sacred task of being the Biographer of Lazarus was consigned to their aged survivor. When the Apostle of Patmos wrote his Gospel, as is supposed in distant Ephesus, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus were, in all likelihood, reposing in their graves. Happily so, too, for ere this the Roman armies were encamped almost within sight of their old dwelling, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem undergoing their unparalleled sufferings. Add to this, John, of all the Evangelists, was best qualified to do justice to this matchless picture. Baptized himself with the spirit of love, his inspired pencil could best portray the lights and shadows in this lovely and loving household. Pre-eminently like his Lord, he could best delineate the scene of all others where the tenderness of that tender Saviour shone most conspicuous. He was the disciple who had leant on His bosom--who had been admitted by Him to nearest and most confiding fellowship. He would have the Church, to the latest period of time, to enjoy the same. He interrupts, therefore, the course of his narrative that he may lift the veil which enshrouds the private life of Jesus, and exhibit Him in all ages in the endearing attitude and relation of a _Human Friend_. Immanuel is transfigured on this Mount of Love before His suffering and glory! The Bethany scene, with its tints of soft and mellowed sunlight, forms a pleasing background to the sadder and more awful events which crowd the Gospel's closing chapters. II. THE HOME SCENE. The curtain rises on a quiet Judean village, the sanctuary of three holy hearts. Each of the inmates have some strongly-marked traits of individual character. These have been so often delicately and truthfully drawn that it is the less necessary to dwell minutely upon them here. There is abundant material in the narrative to discover to us, in the sisters, two characters--both interesting in themselves, both beloved by Jesus, both needful in the Church of God, but at the same time widely different, preparing by a diverse education for heaven--requiring, as we shall find, from Him who best knew their diversity, a separate and peculiar treatment. Martha, the elder (probably the eldest of the family), has been accurately represented as the type of activity; bustling, energetic, impulsive, well qualified to be the head of the household, and to grapple with the stern realities and routine of actual life; quick in apprehension, strong and vigorous in intellect, anxious to give a reason for all she did, and requiring a reason for the conduct of others; a useful if not a noble character, combining diligence in business with fervency in spirit. Mary, again, was the type of reflection; calm, meek, devotional, contemplative, sensitive in feeling, ill suited to battle with the cares and sorrows, the strifes and griefs of an engrossing and encumbering world; one of those gentle flowers that pine and bend under the rough blasts of life, easily battered down by hail and storm, but as ready to raise its drooping leaves under heavenly influences. Her position was at her Lord's feet, drinking in those living waters which came welling up fresh from the great Fountain of life; asking no questions, declining all arguments, gentle and submissive, a beautiful impersonation of the childlike faith which "beareth all things, hopeth all things, believeth all things." While her sister can so command her feelings as to be able to rush forth to meet her Lord outside the village, calm and self-possessed, to unbosom to Him all her hopes and fears, and even to interrogate Him about death and the resurrection, Mary can only meet Him buried in her all-absorbing grief. The crushed leaves of that flower of paradise are bathed and saturated with dewy tears. She has not a word of remonstrance. Jesus speaks to Martha--chides her--reasons with her; with Mary, He knew that the heart was too full, the wound too deep, to bear the probing of word or argument; He speaks, therefore, in the touching pathos of her own silent grief. Her melting emotion has its response in His own. In one word, Martha was one of those meteor spirits rushing to and fro amid the ceaseless activities of life, softened and saddened, but not prostrated and crushed by the sudden inroads of sorrow. Mary, again, we think of as one of those angel forms which now and then seem to walk the earth from the spirit-land; a quiet evening star, shedding its mellowed radiance among deepening twilight shadows, as if her home was in a brighter sphere, and her choice, as we know it was, "a better part, that never could be taken from her."[7] Beautifully and delicately has a Christian poet thus drawn her loving character:-- "Oh, blest beyond all daughters of the East! What were the Orient thrones to that low seat, Where thy hush'd spirit drew celestial birth! Mary! meek listener at the Saviour's feet, No feverish cares to that divine retreat Thy woman's heart of silent worship brought, But a fresh childhood, heavenly truth to meet With love and wonder and submissive thought. Oh! for the holy quiet of thy breast, Midst the world's eager tones and footsteps flying, Thou whose calm soul was like a well-spring, lying So deep and still in its transparent rest, That e'en when noontide burns upon the hills, Some one bright solemn star all its lone mirror fills." Of Lazarus, around whom the main interest of the narrative gathers, we have fewer incidental touches to guide us in giving individuality to his character. This, however, we may infer, from the poignant sorrow of the twin hearts that were so unexpectedly broken, that he was a loved and lamented only brother, a sacred prop around which their tenderest affections were entwined. Included too, as he was, in the love which the Divine Saviour bore to the household (for "Jesus loved Lazarus"), is it presumptuous to imagine that his spirit had been cast into much the same human mould as that of his beloved Lord, and that the friendship of Jesus for him had been formed on the same principles on which friendships are formed still--a similarity of disposition, some mental and moral resemblances and idiosyncrasies? They were like-minded, so far as a fallible nature and the nature of a stainless humanity _could_ be assimilated. We can think of him as gentle, retiring, amiable, forgiving, heavenly-minded; an imperfect and shadowy, it may be, but still a faithful reflection and transcript of incarnate loveliness. May we not venture to use regarding him his Lord's eulogy on another, "Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!" Nor must we forget, in this rapid sketch, what a precious unfolding we have in this home portraiture of the humanity of the Saviour! "_The Man_ Christ Jesus" stands in softened majesty and tenderness before our view. He who had a heart capacious enough to take in all mankind, had yet His likings (sinless partialities) for individuals and minds which were more than others congenial and kindred with His own. As there are some heart sanctuaries where we can more readily rush to bury the tale of our sorrows or unburden our perplexities, so had He. "Jesus wept!"--this speaks of Him as the human Sympathiser. "Jesus loved Lazarus"--this speaks of Him as the human Friend! He had an ardent affection for all His disciples, but even among _them_ there was an inner circle of holier attachments--a Peter, and James, and John; and out of this sacred _trio_ again there was one pre-eminently "Beloved." So, amid the hallowed haunts of Palestine, the homes of Judea, the cities of Galilee, there was but _one_ Bethany. It is delightful thus to think of the heart of Jesus in all but sin as purely _human_, identical and identified with our own. He was no hermit-spirit dwelling in mysterious solitariness apart from His fellows, but open to the charities of life;--in all His refined and hallowed sensibilities "made like unto His brethren." Friendship is itself a holy thing. The bright intelligences in the upper sanctuary know it and experience it. They "cry one to another." Theirs is no solitary strain--no isolated existence. Unlike the planets in the material firmament, shining distant and apart, they are rather clustering constellations, whose gravitation-law is unity and love, this binding them to one another, and all to God. Nay--with reverence we say it--may not the archetype of all friendship be found shadowed forth in what is higher still, those mystic and ineffable communings subsisting between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in a past eternity? We can thus regard the friendship of Jesus on earth--like all ennobled, purified affections--as an emanation from the Divine; a sacred and holy rill, flowing direct from the Fountain of infinite love. How our adorable Lord in the days of His flesh fondly clung even to hearts that grew faithless when fidelity was most needed! What was it but a noble and touching tribute to the longings and susceptibilities of His holy soul for human friendship, when, on entering the precincts of Gethsemane, He thus sought to mitigate the untold sorrows of that awful hour--"Tarry _ye_ here and _watch_ with _Me_!" But to return. Such was the home around which the memories of its inmates and our own love to linger. Mary, Martha, and Lazarus--all three partakers of the same grace, fellow-pilgrims Zionward, and that journey sanctified and hallowed by a sacred fellowship with the Lord of pilgrims. The Saviour's own precious promise seems under that roof of lowly unobtrusive love to receive a living fulfilment: "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." Though many a gorgeous palace was at that era adorning the earth, where was the spot, what the dwelling, half so consecrated as this? Solomon had a thousand years before, two miles distant, in presence of assembled Israel, uttered the exclamation, "But will God in very deed dwell with men upon earth?" He was now verily dwelling! Nor was it under any gorgeous canopy or august temple. He had selected Three Human Souls as the shrines He most loved. He had sought their holy, heavenly converse as the sweetest incense and costliest sacrifice. How or where they first saw Jesus we cannot tell. They had probably been among the number of those pious Jews who had prayerfully waited for the "consolation of Israel," and who had lived to see their fondest wishes and hopes realised. The Evangelist gives no information regarding their previous history. The narrative all at once, with an abruptness of surpassing beauty, leaves us in no doubt that the Divine Redeemer had been for long a well-known guest in that sunlit home, and that, when the calls and duties of His public ministry were suspended, many an hour was spent in the enjoyment of its peaceful seclusion. We can fancy, and no more, these oft happy meetings, when the Pilgrim Saviour, weary and worn, was seen descending the rocky footpath of Olivet,--Lazarus or his sisters, from the flat roof of their dwelling, or under the spreading fig-tree, eager to catch the first glimpse of His approach. When seated in the house, we may picture their converse: Themes of sublime and heavenly import, unchronicled by the inspired penmen, which sunk deep into those listening spirits, and nerved two of them for an after-hour of unexpected sorrow. If there be bliss in the interchange of communion between Christian and Christian, what must it have been to have had the presence and fellowship of the Lord Himself! Not seeing Him, as _we_ see Him, "behind the lattice," but seated underneath His shadow, drinking in the living tones of His living voice. These "children of Zion" must, indeed, have been "joyful in their King." One of these hallowed seasons is that referred to in the 10th of St Luke, where Martha the ministering spirit, and Mary the lowly disciple, are first introduced to our notice. That visit is conjectured to have occurred when Jesus was returning to the country from the Feast of Tabernacles. The Bethany circle dreamt not then of their impending trial. But, foreseen as it was by Him who knows the end from the beginning, may we not well believe one reason (the main reason) for His going thither was to soothe them in the prospect of a saddened home? So that, when the stroke _did_ descend, they might be cheered and consoled with the remembrances of His visit, and of the gracious words which proceeded out of His mouth. And is not this still the way Jesus deals with His people? He visits them often by some precious love-tokens--some special manifestations of His grace and presence before the hour of trial. So that, when that hour does come, they may not be altogether prostrated or overwhelmed with it. Like Elijah of old, they have their miraculous food provided before they encounter the sterile desert. When they come to speak of their crushed hearts, they have solaces to tell of too. Their language is, "I will sing of _mercy_ and _judgment_!" * * * * * We may be led to inquire why a character so lovely as that of Lazarus was not enlisted along with the other disciples in the active service of the Apostleship. Why should Peter and Andrew, John and James, be summoned from their boats and nets on Gennesaret to follow Jesus, and this other, imbued with the same spirit and honoured with the same regard, be left alone and undisturbed in his village home? "To every man there is a work." Some are more peculiarly called to active duty, and better fitted for it; others for passive obedience and suffering. Some are selected as bold standard-bearers of the cross, others to give their testimony in the quiet seclusion of domestic life. Some are specially gifted, as Paul, to appear in the halls of Nero or on the heights of Mars' Hill, and, confronting face to face the world's boasted wisdom, maintain intact the honour of their Lord. Others are required to glorify Him on beds of sickness, or in homes of sorrow, or in the holy consistent tenor of their everyday walk. Some are called as Levites to temple service; others to give the uncostly cup of cold water, or the widow's mite; others to manifest the meek, gentle, unselfish, resigned, forgiving heart, when there is no cup or mite to offer! Believer! rejoice that your path is marked out for you. Your lot in life, with all its "accidents," is your Lord's appointing. Dream not, in your own short-sighted wisdom, that, had you occupied some other or more prominent position--had your talents been greater, or your worldly influence more extensive--you might have glorified your God in a way which is at present denied to you. He can be served in the lowliest as well as in the most exalted stations. As the tiniest leaf or smallest star in the world of nature reflects His glory as well as the giant mountain or blazing sun, so does He graciously own and recognise the humblest effort of lowly love no less than the most lavish gifts which splendid munificence and costly devotion can cast into His treasury. Let it be your great aim and ambition to honour Him just in the position He has seen meet to assign you. "Let every man," says the Apostle, "wherein he is called, therein abide with God." However limited your sphere, you may become a centre of holy influences to the little world around you. Your heart may be an incense-altar of love and affection, kindness and gentleness to man--your life a perpetual hymn of praise to your Father in Heaven; glorifying Him, like Martha, by active service; like Mary, by sitting at His feet; or, like Lazarus, by holy living and happy dying, and leaving behind you "the Memory of the Just" which is "blessed." III. LESSONS. As yet the home of Bethany is all happiness. The burial-ground has been untraversed since, probably years before the dust of one, or perhaps both parents had been committed to the sepulchre.[8] Death had long left the inmates an unbroken circle. Can it be that the unwelcome intruder is so nigh at hand?--that their now joyous dwelling is so soon to echo to the wail of lamentation? We imagine it but lately visited by Jesus. In a little while the arrow hath sped; the sacredness of a divine friendship is no guarantee against the incursion of the sleepless foe of human happiness. Bethany is a mourning household. The sisters are bowed in the agony of their worst bereavement--the prop of their existence is laid low--"_Lazarus is dead!_" At the very threshold of this touching story, are we not called on to pause, and read _the uncertainty of earth's best joys and purest happiness_; that the brightest sunshine is often the precursor of a dark cloud. When the gourd is all flourishing, a worm may unseen be preying at its root! When the vessel is gliding joyously on the calm sea, the treacherous rock may be at hand, and, in one brief hour, it has become a shattered wreck! It is the touching record of the inspired historian in narrating Abraham's heaviest trial--"After _these things_, God did tempt Abraham." After _what_ things? After a season of rich blessings, gilding a future with bright hopes! Would that, amidst our happy homes, and sunshine hours, and seasons of holy and joyous intercourse between friend and friend, we would more habitually bear in mind "This is not to last!" In one brief and unsuspected moment Lazarus may be taken. The messenger may now be on the wing to lay low some treasured object of earthly solicitude and love. God would teach us--while we are glad of our gourds--not to be "exceeding glad;" not to nestle here as if we were to "live alway," but rather, as we are perched on our summer boughs, to be ready at His bidding to soar away, and leave behind us what most we prize. It tells us, too, _the utter mysteriousness of many of the divine dispensations_. "LAZARUS IS DEAD!" What! He, the head, and support, and stay of two helpless females? The joy and solace of a common orphanhood,--a brother evidently made and born for their adversities? What! Lazarus, whom Jesus tenderly loved? How much, even to his Lord, will be buried in that early grave! We may well expect, if there be one homestead in all Palestine guarded by the overshadowing wings of angels to debar the entrance of death, whose inmates may pillow their heads night after night in the confident assurance of immunity from trial, it must surely be that loved resort--that "Arbour in His Hill Difficulty," where the God-man delighted oft to pause and refresh His wearied body and aching mind. Will Omnipotence not have set its mark, as of old, on the door-posts and lintels of that consecrated dwelling, so that the destroyer, in going his rounds elsewhere, may pass by it unscathed? How, too, can the infant Church spare him? The aged Simeon or Anna we dare not wish to detain. Burdened with years and infirmities, after having got a glimpse of their Lord and Saviour, let them depart in peace, and receive their crowns. These decayed trees in the forest--those to whom old age on earth is a burden--let them bow to the axe, and be transplanted to a nobler clime. But one in the vigour of life--one so beautifully combining natural amiability with Christian love--one who was pre-eminently the _friend_ of Jesus, and that _word_ profoundly suggestive of all that was lovely in a disciple's character. Death may visit other homes in that sequestered village, and spread desolation in other hearts, but surely the Church's Lord will not suffer one of its pillars so prematurely to fall! And yet it is even so! The mysterious summons has come!--the most honoured home on earth has been rudely rifled!--the most loving of hearts have been cruelly torn; and inscrutable is the dealing, for "_Lazarus is dead_!" "He, the young and strong, who cherish'd Noble longings for the strife, By the roadside fell, and perish'd On the threshold march of life." And worse, too, than all, "the Lord is absent." Why is Omniscience tarrying elsewhere, when His presence and power are above all needed at the house of His friend? The disconsolate sisters, in wondering amazement, repeat over and over again the exclamation, "If Jesus had been here, this our brother had not died!" "Hath He forgotten to be gracious?" "Surely our way is hid from the Lord, our judgment is passed over from our God." Ah! the experience of His people is often still the same. What are many of God's dispensations?--a baffling enigma--all strangeness--all mystery to the eye of sense. _Useless_ lives prolonged, _useful_ ones taken! The honoured minister of God struck down, the unfaithful watchman spared! The philanthropic and benevolent have an arrest put on their manifold deeds of kindness and generosity; the grasping, the avaricious, the mean-souled--those who neither fear God nor do good to man, are suffered to live on from day to day! What is it but the picture here presented eighteen hundred years ago--_Judas_ spared to be a _traitor to his Lord_, while--_Lazarus is dead_! But let us be still! The Saviour, indeed, does not now lead us forth, amid the scene of our trial, as He did the bereft sisters, to unravel the mysteries of His providence, and to shew glory to God, redounding from the darkest of His dispensations. To _us_ the grand sequel is reserved for eternity. The grand development of the divine plan will not be fully accomplished till _then_; faith must meanwhile rest satisfied with what is baffling to sight and sense. This whole narrative is designed to teach the lesson that there is an undeveloped future in all God's dealings. There is an unseen "why and wherefore" which cannot be answered here. Our befitting attitude and language _now_ is that of simple confidingness--"Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?"--Listening to one of these Bethany sayings (we shall by and by consider), whose meaning will be interpreted in a brighter world by Him who uttered it in the days of His flesh--"Said I not unto thee, that if thou wouldest _believe_ thou shouldest _see_ the glory of God?" "O thou who mournest on thy way, With longings for the close of day, He walks with thee, that Angel kind, And gently whispers--'Be resign'd; Bear up--bear on--the end shall tell, The dear Lord ordereth all things well.'" Our duty, meanwhile, is that of children, simply to trust the faithfulness of a God whose footsteps of love we often fail to trace. All will be seen at last to have been not only _for_ the best, but really _the best_. Dark clouds will be fringed with mercy. What we call now "baffling dispensations," will be seen to be wondrous parts of a great connected whole,--the wheel within wheel of that complex machinery, by which "all things" (yes, ALL things) are now working together for good. "Lazarus is dead!" The choicest tree in the earthly Eden has succumbed to the blast. The choicest cup has been dashed to the ground. Some great lights in the moral firmament have been extinguished. But God can do without human agency. His Church can be preserved, though no Moses be spared to conduct Israel over Jordan, and no Lazarus to tell the story of his Saviour's grace and love, when other disciples have forsaken Him and fled. We may be calling, in our blind unbelief, as we point to some ruined fabric of earthly bliss--some tomb which has become the grave of our fondest affections and dearest hopes--"Shall the dust praise thee, shall _it_ declare thy truth?" _Believe! believe!_ God will not give us back our dead as He did to the Bethany sisters; but He will not deprive us of aught we have, or suffer one garnered treasure to be removed, except for His own glory and our good. _Now_ it is our province to _believe_ it--in _Heaven_ we shall _see_ it. Before the sapphire throne we shall _see_ that not one redundant thorn has been suffered to pierce our feet, or one needless sorrow to visit our dwelling, or tear to dim our eye. Then our acknowledgment will be, "We have _known_ and _believed_ the love which God hath to us." "Oh, weep not though the beautiful decay, Thy heart must have its autumn--its pale skies Leading mayhap to winter's cold dismay. Yet doubt not. Beauty doth not pass away; His form departs not, though his body dies. Secure beneath the earth the snowdrop lies, Waiting the spring's young resurrection-day."[9] Be it ours to have Jesus _with_ us, and Jesus _for_ us, in all our afflictions. If we wish to insure these mighty solaces, we must not suffer the hour of sorrow and bereavement to overtake us with a Saviour till _then_ a stranger and unknown. St Luke tells us the secret of Mary's faith and composure at her loved one's grave:--_She had, long before her day of trial, learned to sit at her Redeemer's feet. It was when in health Jesus was first resorted to and loved_. In prosperity may our homes and hearts be gladdened with His footstep; and when prosperity is withdrawn, and is succeeded by the dark and cloudy day, may we know, like Martha and Mary, where to rush in our seasons of bitter sorrow; listening from His glorified lips on the throne to those same exalted themes of consolation which, for eighteen hundred years, have to myriad, myriad mourners been like oil thrown on the troubled sea. Jesus is with us! The Master is come! His presence will extract sorrow from the bitterest cup, and make, as He did at Bethany, a very home of bereavement and a burial scene to be "hallowed ground!" IV. THE MESSENGER. Is the absent Saviour not to be sought? Martha and Mary knew the direction He had taken. The last time He had visited their home was at the Feast of Dedication, during the season of winter, when the palm-trees were bared of their leaves, and the voice of the turtle was silent. Jesus, on that occasion, had to escape the vengeance of the Jews in Jerusalem by a temporary retirement to the place where John first baptized, near Enon, on the wooded banks of the Jordan. It must have been to Him a spot and season of calm and grateful repose; a pleasing transition from the rude hatred and heartless formalism which met Him in the degenerate "City of Solemnities." The savour of the Baptist's name and spirit seemed to linger around this sequestered region. John had evidently prepared, by his faithful ministry, the way for a mightier Preacher, for we read, as the result of the Saviour's present sojourn, that "many believed on him there." If we visit with hallowed emotion the places where first we learned to love the Lord, to two at least of those who accompanied the Redeemer, the region He now traversed must have been full of fragrant memories; _there_ it was that Jesus had been first pointed out to them as the "Lamb of God;" _there_ they first "beheld His glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and of truth." (John i. 28.) On His way thither, on the present occasion, He most probably passed through Bethany, and apprised His friends of His temporary absence. Lazarus was then in his wonted vigour--no shadow of death had yet passed over his brow; he doubtless parted with the Lord he loved happy at the thought of ere long meeting again. But soon all is changed. The hand of sickness unexpectedly lays him low. At first there is no cause for anxiety. But soon the herald-symptoms of danger and death gather fast and thick around his pillow; "his beauty consumes away like a moth." The terrible possibility for the first time flashes across the minds of the sisters, of a desolate home, and of themselves being the desolate survivors of a loved brother. The joyous dream of restoration becomes fainter and fainter. Human remedies are hopeless. There was _One_, and _only_ ONE, in the wide world who could save from impending death. His word, they knew, could alone summon lustre to that eye, and bloom to that wan and fading cheek. Fifty long miles intervene between the great Physician and their cottage home. But they cannot hesitate. Some kind and compassionate neighbour is soon found ready to hasten along the Jericho road with the brief but urgent message, "_Lord! behold he whom thou lovest is sick._" If it only reach in time, they know that no more is needed. They even indulge the expectation that their messenger may be anticipated by the Lord Himself appearing. Others might doubt His omniscience, but they knew its reality. They had the blessed conviction, that while they were seated in burning tears by that couch of sickness, there was a sympathising Being far away marking every heart-throb of His suffering friend. Even when the stern human conviction of "no hope" was pressing upon them, "hoping against hope," they must have felt confident that He would not suffer His faithfulness now to fail. He had often proved Himself a Brother and Friend in the hour of _joy_. _Could_ He fail--_can_ He fail to prove Himself now a "Brother born for _adversity_?" Although, however, thus convinced that the tale of their sorrows was known to Jesus, _a messenger is sent_,--_the means are employed_! They act as though He knew it _not_; as if that omniscient Saviour had been all unconscious of these hours of prolonged and anxious agony! What a lesson is there here for _us_! God is acquainted with our every trouble; He knows (far better than we know ourselves) every pang we heave, every tear we weep, every perplexing path we tread; but the knee must be bent, the message must be taken, the prayer must ascend! It is His own appointed method,--His own consecrated medium for obtaining blessings. Jesus _may_ have gone, and probably _would_ have gone to restore His friend, even though no such messenger had reached Him: We dare not limit the grace and dealings of God: He is often (blessed be His name for it!) "found of them that sought Him not." But He loves such messages as this. He loves the confiding, childlike trust of His own people, who delight in the hour of their extremity to cast their burdens upon Him, and send the winged herald of prayer to the throne of grace on which He sits. Would that we valued, more than we do, this blessed link of communication between our souls and Heaven! More especially in our seasons of trouble, (when "vain is the help of man,") happy for us to be able implicitly to rest in the ability and willingness of a gracious Redeemer. Prayer brings the soul near to Jesus, and fetches Jesus near to the soul. He may linger, as He did now at the Jordan, ere the answer be vouchsafed, but it is for some wise reason; and even if the answer given be not in accordance with our pre-conceived wishes or anxious desires, yet how comforting to have put our case and all its perplexities in His hand, saying, "I am oppressed; undertake Thou for me! To Thee I unburden and unbosom my sorrows. I shall be satisfied whether my cup be filled or emptied. Do to me as seemeth good in Thy sight. He whom I love and whom THOU lovest is sick; the Lazarus of my earthly hopes and affections is hovering on the brink of death. That levelling blow, if consummated, will sweep down in a moment all my hopes of earthly happiness and joy. But it is my privilege to confide my trouble to Thee; to know that I have surrendered myself and all that concerns me into the hand of Him who 'considers my soul in adversity.' Yes; and should my schemes be crossed, and my fondest hopes baffled, I will feel, even in apparently _unanswered_ prayers, that the Judge of all the earth has done right!" "It is said," says Rutherford, speaking of the Saviour's delay in responding to the request of the Syrophenician woman; "It is said He _answered_ not a word, but it is not said He _heard_ not a word. These two differ much. Christ often heareth when He doth not answer. His not answering is an answer, and speaks thus: 'Pray on, go on and cry, for the Lord holdeth His door fast bolted not to keep you out, but that you may knock and knock.'" "God delays to answer prayer," says Archbishop Usher, "because he would have more of it. If the musicians come to play at our doors or our windows, if we delight not in their music, we throw them out money presently that they may be gone. But if the music please us, we forbear to give them money, because we would keep them longer to enjoy their music. So the Lord loves and delights in the sweet words of His children, and therefore puts them off and answers them not presently." Observe still further, in the case of these sorrowing sisters of Bethany, while in all haste and urgency they send their messenger, they do not ask Jesus to come--they dictate no procedure--they venture on no positive request--all is left to Himself. What a lesson also is there here to confide in His wisdom, to feel that His way and His will must be the best--that our befitting attitude is to lie passive at His feet--to wait His righteous disposal of us and ours--to make this the burden of our petition, "Lord, what wouldst _Thou_ have me to do?" "If it be possible let this cup pass from me, _nevertheless_, not as _I_ will, but as _Thou wilt_." Reader! invite to your gates this celestial messenger. Make prayer a holy habit--a cherished privilege. Seek to be ever maintaining intercommunion with Jesus; consecrating life's common duties with His favour and love. Day by day ere you take your flight into the world, night by night when you return from its soiling contacts, bathe your drooping plumes in this refreshing fountain. Let prayer sweeten prosperity and hallow adversity. Seek to know the unutterable blessedness of habitual filial nearness to your Father in heaven--in childlike confidence unbosoming to Him those heart-sorrows with which no earthly friend can sympathise, and with which a stranger cannot intermeddle. No trouble is too trifling to confide to His ear--no want too trivial to bear to His mercy-seat. "Prayer is appointed to convey The blessings He designs to give; Long as they live should Christians pray, For only while they pray, they live." V. THE MESSAGE. The messenger has reached--what is his message? It is a brief, but a beautiful one. "_Lord, behold he whom Thou lovest is sick._" No laboured eulogium--no lengthened panegyric could have described more significantly the character of the dying villager of Bethany. Four mystic words invest his name with a sacred loveliness. By one stroke of his pen the Apostle unfolds a heart-history; so that we desiderate no more--more would almost spoil the touching simplicity--"_He whom Thou lovest!_" We might think at first the words are inverted. Can the messenger have mistaken them? Is it not more likely the message of the sisters was this:--"Go and tell Him, 'Lord, he whom _we_ love,' or else, 'he who loveth _Thee_ is sick?'" Nay, it is a loftier argument by which they would stir the infinite depths of the Fountain of love! They had "known and believed the love" which the Great Redeemer bore to their brother, and they further felt assured that "loving him at the beginning, He would love him even to the end." Their love to Lazarus (tender, unspeakably tender as it was one of the loveliest types of human affection)--was at best an _earthly love_--finite--imperfect--fitful--changing--perishable. But the love they invoked was undying and everlasting, superior to all vacillation--enduring as eternity. It is ours "to take encouragement in prayer from God only;"--to plead nothing of our own--our poor devotedness, or our unworthy services; they are rather arguments for our condemnation;--but _His_ promises are all "Yea, and amen." They never fail. His name is "a strong tower," running into which the righteous are safe. That tower is garrisoned and bulwarked by the attributes of His own everlasting nature. Among these attributes not the least glorious is His _Love_--_that_ unfathomable love which dwelt in His bosom from all eternity, and which is immutably pledged never to be taken from His people! Man's love to his God is like the changing sand--_His_ is like the solid rock. Man's love is like the passing meteor with its fitful gleam. _His_ like the fixed stars, shining far above, clear and serene, from age to age, in their own changeless firmament. Do we know anything of the words of this message? Could it be written on our hearts in life? Were we to die, could it be inscribed on our tombs, "This is one whom _Jesus loved_?" Happy assurance! The pure spirits who bend before the throne know no happier. The archangels--the chieftains among principalities and powers, can claim no higher privilege, no loftier badge of glory! Love is the atmosphere they breathe. It is the grand moral law of gravitation in the heavenly economy. God, the central sun of light, and joy, and glory, keeping by this great motive principle every spiritual planet in its orbit, "for _God is love_." That love is not confined to heaven. It may be foretasted here. The sick man of Bethany knew of it, and exulted in it. Though in the moment of dissolution he had to mourn the personal absence of his Lord, yet "believing" in that love, he "rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory." His sisters, as they stood in sorrowing emotion by his dying couch, and thought of that hallowed fraternal bond which was about so soon to be dissolved, could triumph in the thought of an affection nobler and better which knit him and them to the Brother of brothers--and which, unlike any earthly tie, was indissoluble. And what was experienced in that lowly Bethany home, may be experienced by us. That love in its wondrous manifestation is confined to no limits, no age, no peculiar circumstances. Many a Lazarus, pining in want, who can claim no heritage but poverty, no home but cottage walls, or who, stretched on a bed of protracted sickness, is heard saying in the morning, "Would God it were evening! and in the evening, Would God it were morning!" if he have that love reigning in his heart, he has a possession outweighing the wealth of worlds! What a message, too, of consolation is here to the _sick_! How often are those chained down year after year to some aching pillow, worn, weary, shattered in body, depressed in spirit,--how apt are they to indulge in the sorrowful thought, "Surely God cannot care for _me_!" What! Jesus think of this wasted frame--these throbbing temples--these powerless limbs--this decaying mind! I feel like a wreck on the desert shore--beyond the reach of His glance--beneath the notice of His pitying eye! Nay, thou poor desponding one, He _does_ cherish, He _does_ remember thee!--"Lord, _he whom Thou lovest_ is sick." Let this motto-verse be inscribed on thy Bethany chamber. The Lord _loves_ His sick ones, and He often chastens them with sickness, just _because_ He loves them. If these pages be now traced by some dim eyes that have been for long most familiar with the sickly glow of the night-lamp--the weary vigils of pain and languor and disease--an exile from a busy world, or a still more unwilling alien from the holy services of the sanctuary--oh! think of Him who _loves_ thee, who loved thee _into_ this sickness, and will love thee _through_ it, till thou standest in that unsuffering, unsorrowing world, where sickness is unknown! Think of Lazarus in _his_ chamber, and the plea of the sisters in behalf of their prostrate brother, "Lord, come to the sick one, _whom Thou lovest_." Believe it, the very continuance of this sickness is a pledge of His love. You may be often tempted to say with Gideon, "If the Lord be with me, why has _all_ this befallen me?" Surely if my Lord loved me, He would long ere this have hastened to my relief, rebuked this sore disease, and raised me up from this bed of languishing? Did you ever note, in the 6th verse of this Bethany chapter, the strangely beautiful connexion of the word THEREFORE? The Evangelist had, in the preceding verse, recorded the affection Jesus bore for that honoured family. "Now Jesus _loved_ Martha and her sister and Lazarus." "When He had heard THEREFORE that he was sick,"--what did He do? "Fled on wings of love to the succour of His loved friend; hurried in eager haste by the shortest route from Bethabara?" We expect to hear so, as the natural deduction from John's premises. How we might think could love give a more truthful exponent of its reality than hastening instantaneously to the relief of one so dear to Him? But not so! "When He had heard THEREFORE that he was sick, _He abode two days still in the same place where He was_!" Yes, there is _tarrying_ love as well as _succouring_ love. He _sent_ that sickness because He loves thee; He _continues_ it because He loves thee. He heaps fresh fuel on the furnace-fires till the gold is refined. He appoints, not one, but "many days where neither sun nor stars appear, and no small tempest lies on us," that the ship may be lightened, and faith exercised; our bark hastened by these rough blasts nearer shore, and the Lord glorified, who rules the raging of the sea. "We expect," says Evans, "the blessing or relief in _our_ way; He chooses to bestow it in _His_." Reader! let this ever be your highest ambition, to love and to be loved of Jesus. If we are covetous to have the regard and esteem of the great and good on earth, what is it to share the fellowship and kindness of Him, in comparison with whose love the purest earthly affection is but a passing shadow! Ah! to be without that love, is to be a little world ungladdened by its central sun, wandering on in its devious pathway of darkness and gloom. Earthly things may do well enough when the world is all bright and shining--when prosperity sheds its bewitching gleam around you, and no symptoms of the cloudy and dark day are at hand; but the hour is coming (it may come soon, it _must_ come at some time) when your Bethany-home will be clouded with deepening death-shadows--when, like Lazarus, you will be laid on a dying couch, and what will avail you then? Oh, nothing, _nothing_! if bereft of that love whose smile is heaven. If you are left in the agony of desolation to utter importunate pleadings to an _Unknown Saviour_, a _Stranger God_--if the dark valley be entered uncheered by the thought of a loving Redeemer dispelling its gloom, and waiting on the Canaan side to shew you the path of life! Let the home of your hearts be often open, as was the home of Lazarus, to the visits of Jesus in the day of brightness; and _then_, when the hour of sorrow and trial unexpectedly arises, you will know where to find your Lord--where to send your prayer-message for Him to come to your relief. Yes! He _will_ come! It will be in His own way, but His joyous footfall _will_ be heard! He is not like Baal, "slumbering and sleeping, or taking a journey" when the voice of importunate prayer ascends from the depths of yearning hearts! If, instead of at once hastening back to Bethany, He "abides still for two days where He was"--if He linger among the mountain-glens of distant Gilead, instead of, as we would expect, hastening to the cry and succour of cherished friendship, and to ward off the dart of the inexorable foe--be assured there must be a reason for this strange procrastination--there must be an unrevealed cause which the future will in due time disclose and unravel. All the recollections of the past forbid one unrighteous surmise on His tried faithfulness. "_Now, Jesus loved Lazarus_," is a soft pillow on which to repose;--raising the sorrowing spirit above the unkind insinuation, "My Lord hath forsaken me, and my God hath forgotten me." If He linger, it is to try and test the faith of His people. If He let loose the storm, and suffer it to sweep with a vengeance apparently uncontrolled, it is that these living trees may strike their roots firmer and deeper in Himself--the Rock of eternal ages. Trust Him where you cannot trace Him. Not one promise of His can come to nought. The channel may have continued long dry--the streams of Lebanon may have failed--the cloud has been laden, but no shower descends--the barren waste is unwatered--the windows of heaven seem hopelessly closed. Nay, nay! Though "the vision tarry," yet if you "wait for it" the gracious assurance will be fulfilled in your experience--"The Lord is good to them that wait for Him, to the soul that seeketh Him." The fountain of love pent up in His heart will in due time gush forth--the apparently unacknowledged prayer will be crowned with a gracious answer. In His own good time sweet tones of celestial music will be wafted to your ear--"It is the voice of the Beloved!--lo, He cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills!" If you are indeed the child of God, as Lazarus was, remember this for your comfort in your dying hour, that whether the prayers of sorrowing friends for your recovery be answered or no, the Lord of love has at least _heard_ them--the messenger has not been mocked--the prayer-message has not been spurned or forgotten! I repeat it, He _will_ answer, but it will be _in His own way_! If the Bethany-home be ungladdened by Lazarus restored, it will exult through tears in the thought of Lazarus glorified. And the Marthas and Marys, as they go often unto the grave to weep there, will read, as they weep, in the holy memories of the departed, that which will turn tears into joy--"_Jesus loved him._" VI. THE SLEEPER. "_Our friend Lazarus sleepeth._"--The hopes and fears which alternately rose and fell in the bosoms of the sisters, like the surges of the ocean, are now at rest. Oft and again, we may well believe, had they gone, like the mother of Sisera, to the lattice to watch the return of the messenger, or, what was better, to hail their expected Lord. Gazing on the pale face at their side, and remembering that ere now the tidings of his illness must have reached Bethabara, they may have even expected to witness the power of a distant _word_;--to behold the hues of returning health displacing the ghastly symptoms of dissolution. But in vain! The curtain has fallen! Their season of aching anxiety is at an end. Their worst fears are realised.--"Lazarus sleepeth." How calm, how tranquil that departure! Never did sun sink so gently in its crimson couch--never did child, nestling in its mother's bosom, close its eyes more sweetly! "His summon'd breath went forth as peacefully As folds the spent rose when the day is done." Befitting close to a calm and noiseless existence! It would seem as if the guardian angels who had been hovering round his death-pillow had well-nigh reached the gates of glory ere the sorrowing survivors discovered that the clay tabernacle was all that was left of a "brother beloved!" From the abrupt manner in which, in the course of the narrative, our Lord makes the announcement to His disciples,[10] we are almost led to surmise that He did so at the very moment of the spirit's dismissal--the Redeemer speaks while the eyelids are just closing, and the emancipated soul is winging its arrowy flight up to the spirit-land! _Death_ a SLEEP!--How beautiful the image! Beautifully true, and _only_ true regarding the Christian. It is here where the true and the false--Christianity and Paganism--meet together in impressive and significant contrast. The one comes to the dark river with her pale, sickly lamp. It refuses to burn--the damps of Lethe dim and quench it. Philosophy tries to discourse on death as a "stern necessity"--of the duty of passing heroically into this mysterious, oblivion-world--taking with bold heart "the leap in the dark," and confronting, as we best can, blended images of annihilation and terror. The Gospel takes us to the tomb, and shews us Death vanquished, and the Grave spoiled. Death truly is in itself an unwelcome messenger at our door. It is the dark event in this our earth,--the deepest of the many deep shadows of an otherwise fair creation--a cold, cheerless avalanche lying at the heart of humanity, freezing up the gushing fountains of joyous life. But the Gospel shines, and the cold iceberg melts. The Sun of Righteousness effects what philosophy, with all its boasted power, never could. Jesus is the abolisher of Death. He has taken all that is terrible from it. It is said of some venomous insects that when they once inflict a sting, they are deprived of any future power to hurt. Death left his envenomed sting in the body of the great victim of Calvary. It was thenceforward disarmed of its fearfulness! So complete, indeed, is the Redeemer's victory over this last enemy, that He Himself speaks of it as no longer a reality, but a shadow--a phantom-foe from which we have nothing to dread. "Whosoever believeth in Me shall _never die_." "If a man keep My sayings, he shall _never see death_." These are an echo of the sweet Psalmist's beautiful words, a transcript of his expressive figure when he pictures the Dark Valley to the believer as the Valley of a "_shadow_." The substance is removed! When the gaunt spirit meets him on the midnight waters, he may, like the disciples at first, be led to "cry out for fear." But a gentle voice of love and tenderness rebukes his dread, and calms his misgivings--"It is I! be not afraid!" Yes, here is the wondrous secret of a calm departure--the "sleep" of the believer in death. It is the name and presence of JESUS. There may be many accompaniments of weakness and prostration, pain and suffering, in that final conflict; the mind may be a wreck--memory may have abdicated her seat--the loving salutation of friends may be returned only with vacant looks, and the hand be unable to acknowledge the grasp of affection--but there is strength in that presence, and music in that name to dispel every disquieting, anxious thought. Clung to as a sheet-anchor in life, He will never leave the soul in the hour of dissolution to the mercy of the storm. Amid sinking nature, He is faithful that promised--"Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world."--"Thou art with me," says Lady Powerscourt--"this is the rainbow of light thrown across the valley, for there is no need of sun or moon where covenant-love illumes." A Christian's death-bed! It is indeed "good to be there." The man who has not to seek a living Saviour at a dying hour, but who, long having known His preciousness, loved His Word, valued His ordinances, sought His presence by believing prayer, has now nothing to do but to die (to _sleep_), and wake up in glory everlasting! "Oh! that all my brethren," were among Rutherford's last words, "may know what a Master I have served, and what peace I have this day. This night shall close the door, and put my anchor within the veil." "This must be the chariot," said Helen Plumtre, making use of Elijah's translation as descriptive of the believer's death; "This must be the chariot; oh, how easy it is!" "Almost well," said Richard Baxter, when asked on his death-bed how he did. Yes! there is speechless eloquence in such a scene. The figure of a quiet slumber is no hyperbole, but a sober verity. As the gentle smile of a foretasted heaven is seen playing on the marble lips--the rays gilding the mountain tops after the golden sun has gone down--what more befitting reflection than this, "_So_ giveth He His beloved SLEEP!" "Sweetly remembering that the parting sigh Appoints His saints to slumber, not to die, The starting tear we check--we kiss the rod, And not to earth resign them, but to God." Or shall we leave the death-chamber and visit the grave? Still it is a place of _sleep_; a bed of rest--a couch of tranquil repose--a quiet dormitory "until the day break," and the night shadows of earth "flee away." The dust slumbering there is precious because redeemed; the angels of God have it in custody; they encamp round about it, waiting the mandate to "gather the elect from the four winds of heaven--from the one end of heaven to the other." Oh, wondrous day, when the long dishonoured casket shall be raised a "glorified, body" to receive once more the immortal jewel, polished and made meet for the Master's use! See how Paul clings, in speaking of this glorious resurrection period, to the expressive figure of his Lord before him--"Them also which SLEEP in Jesus will God bring with Him!" _Sleep in Jesus!_ His saints fall asleep on their death-couch in His arms of infinite love. There their spirits repose, until the body, "sown in corruption" shall be "raised in incorruption," and both reunited in the day of His appearing, become "a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of their God." Weeping mourner! Jesus dries thy tears with the encouraging assurance, "Thy dead shall live; together with My body they shall arise." Let thy Lazarus "sleep on now and take his rest;" the time will come when My voice shall be heard proclaiming, "Awake, and sing, ye that dwell in dust." "The winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away." "Weep not! he is not dead, but sleepeth. Soon shall the day-dawn of glory streak the horizon, and then I shall go that I may awake him out of sleep!" Beautifully has it been said, "Dense as the gloom is which hangs over the mouth of the sepulchre, it is the spot, above all others, where the Gospel, if it enters, shines and triumphs. In the busy sphere of life and health, it encounters an active antagonist--the world confronts it, aims to obscure its glories, to deny its claims, to drown its voice, to dispute its progress, to drive it from the ground it occupies. But from the mouth of the grave the world retires; it shrinks from the contest there; it leaves a clear and open space in which the Gospel can assert its claims and unveil its glories without opposition or fear. There the infidel and worldling look anxiously around--but the world has left them helpless, and fled. There the Christian looks around, and lo! the angel of mercy is standing close by his side. The Gospel kindles a torch which not only irradiates the valley of the shadow of death, but throws a radiance into the world beyond, and reveals it peopled with the sainted spirits of those who have died in Jesus." Reader! may this calm departure be yours and mine. "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord. ... They REST." All life's turmoil and tossing is over; they are anchored in the quiet haven. _Rest_--but not the rest of annihilation-- "Grave! the guardian of our dust; Grave! the treasury of the skies; Every atom of thy trust Rests in hope again to rise!" Let us seek to have the eye of faith fixed and centred on Jesus _now_. It is _that_ which alone can form a peaceful pillow in a dying hour, and enable us to rise superior to all its attendant terrors. Look at that scene in the Jehoshaphat valley! The proto-martyr Stephen has a pillow of thorns for his dying couch, showers of stones are hurled by infuriated murderers on his guiltless head, yet, nevertheless, he "fell asleep." What was the secret of that calmest of sunsets amid a blood-stained and storm-wreathed sky? The eye of faith (if not of sight) pierced through those clouds of darkness. Far above the courts of the material temple at whose base he lay, he beheld, in the midst of the general assembly and Church of the First-born of Heaven, "JESUS standing at the right hand of God." The vision of his Lord was like a celestial lullaby stealing from the inner sanctuary. With _Jesus_, his last sight on earth and his next in glory, he could "lay him down in peace and sleep," saying, in the words of the sweet singer of Israel, "What time I awake I am still with Thee." "It matters little at what hour o' the day The righteous falls asleep. Death cannot come To him untimely who is fit to die. The less of this cold world the more of heaven; The briefer life, the earlier immortality."--MILMAN. "Our friend Lazarus sleepeth." This tells us that Christ forgets not the dead. The dead often bury their dead, and remember them no more. The name of their silent homes has passed into a proverb, "The land of forgetfulness." But they are not forgotten by Jesus. That which sunders and dislocates all other ties--wrenching brother from brother, sister from sister, friend from friend--cannot sunder us from the living, loving heart on the throne of heaven. His is a friendship and love stronger than death, and surviving death. While the language of earth is "Friend after friend departs-- Who hath not lost a friend?" the emancipated spirit, as it wings its magnificent flight among the ministering seraphim, can utter the challenge, "Who shall separate me from the love of Christ?" The righteous are had with Him "in everlasting remembrance." Their names "written among the living in Jerusalem;" yea, "engraven on the palms of His hands." One other thought.--Jesus had at first kindly and considerately disguised from His disciples the stern truth of Lazarus' departure. "Our friend sleepeth." "They thought that He had spoken of taking of rest in sleep." They understood it as the indication of the crisis-hour in sickness when the disease has spent itself, and is succeeded by a balmy slumber--the presage of returning health; but now He says unto them plainly, "Lazarus is dead." How gently He thus breaks the sad intelligence! And it is His method of dealing still. He _prepares_ His people for their hours of trial. He does not lay upon them more than they are able to bear. He considers their case--He teaches by slow and gradual discipline, leading on step by step; staying His rough wind in the day of His east wind. As the Good Physician, He metes out drop by drop in the bitter cup--as the Good Shepherd, His is not rough driving, but gentle guiding from pasture to pasture. "He leadeth them out;" "He goeth before them." He is Himself their sheltering rock in the "dark and cloudy day." The sheep who are inured to the hardships of the mountain, He leaves at times to wrestle with the storm; but "the _lambs_" (the young, the faint, the weak, the weary) "He gathers in His arms and carries in His bosom." He speaks in gentle whispers. He uses the pleasing symbol of quiet slumber before He speaks plainly out the mournful reality, "Lazarus is dead." Truly "He knoweth our frame--He remembereth that we are dust." "Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him!" But let us resume our narrative, and follow the journey of the dead man's "Friend." It is a mighty task He has undertaken; to storm the strong enemy in his own citadel, and roll back the barred gates! In mingled majesty and tenderness He hastens to the bereft and desolate home on this mission of power and love. We left the sisters wondering at His mysterious delay. Again and again had they imagined that at last they heard His tardy step, or listened to His hand on the latch, or to the loving music of His longed-for voice. But they are mistaken; it was only the beating of the vine-tendrils on the lattice, or the footfall of the passer by. The Lord is still absent! Their earnest and importunate heart-breathings are expressed by the Psalmist--"O Lord our God, early do we seek Thee: our soul thirsteth for Thee, our flesh longeth for Thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is; to see Thy power and Thy glory, as we _have_ seen Thee." Be still, afflicted ones! He is coming. He will, however, let the cup of anguish be first filled to the brim that He may manifest and magnify all the more the might of His omnipotence, and the marvels of His compassion. The thirsty land is about to become streams of water. The sky is at its darkest, when, lo! the rainbow of love is seen spanning the firmament, and a shower of blessings is about to fall on the "_Home of Bethany_!" VII. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. The sounds of lamentation had now been heard for four days in the desolate household. In accordance with general wont, the friends and relatives of the deceased had assembled to pay their tribute of respect to the memory of a revered friend, and to solace the hearts of the disconsolate survivors. They needed all the sympathy they received. It was now the dull dead calm after the torture of the storm, the leaden sea strewn with wrecks, enabling them to realise more fully the extent of their loss. Amid the lulls of the tempest, while Lazarus yet lived, hope shrunk from entertaining gloomy apprehensions. But now that the storm has spent its fury, now that the worst has come, the future rises up before them crowded with ten thousand images of desolation and sorrow. The void in their household is daily more and more felt. All the past bright memories of Bethany seem to be buried in a yawning grave. We may picture the scene. The stronger and more resolute spirit of Martha striving to stem the tide of overmuch sorrow. The more sensitive heart of Mary, bowed under a grief too deep for utterance, able only to indicate by her silent tears the unknown depths of her sadness. Thus are they employed, when Martha, unseen to her sister, has been beckoned away. "_The Master has come._" But desirous of ascertaining the truth of the joyful tidings, ere intruding on the grief of Mary, the elder of the survivors rushes forth with trembling emotion to give full vent to her sorrow at the feet of the Great Friend of all the friendless![11] He has not yet entered the village. She cannot, however, wait His arrival. Leaving home and sepulchre behind, she hastens outside the groves of palm at its gate. It requires no small fortitude in the season of sore bereavement to face an altered world; and, doubtless, passing all alone now through the little town, meeting familiar faces wearing sunny smiles which could not be returned, must have been a painful effort to this child of sorrow. But what will the heart not do to meet such a Comforter? What will Martha be unprepared to encounter if the intelligence brought her be indeed confirmed? One glance is enough. "_It is the Lord!_" In a moment she is a suppliant at His feet. Doubt and faith and prayer mingle in the exclamation, "Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died!"[12] That she had faith and assured confidence in the love and tenderness of Jesus we cannot question. But a momentary feeling of unbelief (shall we say, of reproach and upbraiding?) mingled with better emotions. "Why, Lord," seemed to be the expression of her inner thoughts, "wert Thou absent? It was unlike Thy kind heart. Thou hast often gladdened our home in our season of joy--why this forgetfulness in the night of our bitter agony? Death has torn from us a loved brother--the blow would have been spared--these hearts would have been unbroken--these burning tears unshed, if _Thou hadst_ been here!" Such was the bold--the _unkind_ reasoning of the mourner. It was the reasoning of a finite creature. Ah! if she could but have looked into the workings of that infinite Heart she was ungenerously upbraiding, how differently would she have broached her tearful suit! _Her_ exclamation is--"Why this _unkind_ absence?" _His_ comment on that _same_ absence to His disciples is _this_--"I was _glad_ for your sakes that I was _not_ there!" How often are _God_ and _man_ thus in strange antagonism, with regard to earthly dispensations! Man, as he arraigns the rectitude of the Divine procedure, exclaiming--"How unaccountable this dealing! How baffling this mystery! Where is now my God?" This sickness--why prolonged? This thorn in the flesh--why still buffeting? This family blank--why permitted? Why the most treasured and useful life taken--the blow aimed where it cut most severely and levelled lowest? Hush the secret atheism! This trial, whatever it be, has this grand motto written upon it in characters of living light;--we can read it on anguished pillows--aching hearts--ay, on the very portals of the tomb--"_This_ is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified thereby!" At the very moment we are mourning what are called "_dark_ providences"--"untoward calamities"--"strokes of misfortune"--"unmitigated evils"--Jesus has a different verdict;--"I am _glad_ for your sakes." The absence at Jordan--the still more unaccountable lingering for two days in the same place after the message had been sent, instead of hastening direct to Bethany, all was well and wisely ordered. And although Martha's upbraidings were now received in forbearing silence, her Saviour afterwards, in a calmer moment, read the rebuke--"Said I not unto thee, if thou wouldst _believe_, thou shouldst see the glory of God?" It is indeed a comforting assurance in all trials, that God has some holy and wise end to subserve. He never stirs a ripple on the waters, but for His own glory, or the good of others. The delay on the present occasion, though protracting for a time the sorrows of the bereaved, was intended for the benefit of the Church in every age, and for the more immediate benefit of the disciples. _They_ were destined in a few brief weeks also to be desolate survivors--to mourn a Brother dearer still! He who had been to them Friend--Father--Brother, all in one, was to be, like Lazarus, laid silent in a Jerusalem sepulchre. The Lord of Life was to be the victim of Death! His body was to be transfixed to a malefactor's cross, and consigned to a lonely grave! He knew the shock that awaited their faith. He knew, as this terrible hour drew on, how needful some overpowering visible demonstration would be of His mastery over the tomb. _Now_ a befitting opportunity occurred in the case of their friend Lazarus to read the needed lesson. "I was glad for your sakes, ... to the intent ye might believe." Would that we could feel as believers more than we do--that the dealings of our God are for the strengthening of our faith, and the enlivening and invigorating of our spiritual graces. Let us seek to accept more simply in dark dealings the Saviour's explanation, "It is for _your_ sake!" He gives us a blank for our every trial, indorsing it with His own gracious word, "This, _this_ is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified thereby." The words of Martha, then, surely teach as their great lesson, never to be hasty in our surmises and conclusions regarding God's ways. "Lord! IF Thou _hadst_ been here?" Could she question for a moment that that loving eye of Omniscience had all the while been scanning that sick-chamber--marking every throb in that fevered brow--and every tear that fell unbidden from the eyes that watched his pillow? "Lord! _if_ Thou hadst been here?" Could she question His ability, had He so willed it, to prevent the bereavement altogether--to put an arrest on the hand of death ere the bow was strung? O faithless disciple, wherefore didst thou doubt? But thou art ere long to learn what each of us will learn out in eternity, that "_all_ things are for our sakes, that the abundant grace might, through the thanksgiving of many, redound _to the glory of God_." * * * * * But the momentary cloud has passed. Faith breaks through. The murmur of upbraiding has died away. He who listens makes allowance for an anguished heart. The glance of tender sympathy and gentleness which met Martha's eye, at once hushes all remains of unbelief. Words of exulting confidence immediately succeed. "But I know that even now whatsoever Thou wilt ask of God, God will give it Thee." What is this, but that which every believer exults in to this hour, as the sheet-anchor of hope and peace and comfort, when tossed on a tempestuous sea--a gracious confidence in the ability and willingness of Christ to save. The Friend of Bethany is still the Friend in Heaven. To Him "all power has been committed;" "as a prince He has power with God, and must prevail." Yes, gracious antidote to the spirit in the moment of its trial; when bowed down with anticipated bereavement; the curtains of death about to fall over life's brightest joys. How blessed to lay hold on the _perfect_ conviction that "the Ever-living Intercessor in glory has all power to revoke the sentence if He sees meet"--that even _now_ (yes _now_, in a moment) the delegated angel may be sent speeding from his throne, to spare the tree marked to fall, and prolong the lease of existence! Let us rejoice in the power of this God-man Mediator, that He is as able as He is willing, and as willing as He is able. "Him the Father heareth always." "_Father, I will_," is His own divine _formula_ for every needed boon for His people. How it ought to make our sick-chambers and death-chambers consecrated to prayer! leading us to make our every trial and sorrow a fresh reason for going to God. Laying our burden, whatever it may be, on the mercy-seat, it will be _considered_ by Him, who is too wise to grant what is better to be withdrawn, and too kind to withhold what, without injury to us, may be granted. Let us imitate Martha's faith in our approaches to Him. Ah, in our dull and cold devotions, how little lively apprehension have we of the gracious _willingness_ of Christ to listen to our petitions! Standing as the great Angel of the Covenant with the golden censer, His hand never shortened--His ear never heavy--His uplifted arm of intercession never faint. No variety bewildering Him--no importunity wearying Him--"waiting to be gracious"--loving the music of the suppliant spirit. Would that we had ever before us as the superscription of faith written on our closet-devotions, and domestic altars, and public sanctuaries, _whenever_ and _wherever_ the knee is bent, and the Hearer of prayer is invoked--"I _know_ that even _now_ whatsoever _Thou_ wilt ask of God, God will give it Thee." VIII. THE MOURNER'S COMFORT. Martha's tearful utterances are now met with an exalted solace. "_Thy brother shall rise again._" It is the first time her Lord has spoken. She now once more hears those well-remembered tones which were last listened to, when life was all bright, and her home all happy. It is the self-same consolation which steals still, like celestial music, to the smitten heart, when every chord of earthly gladness ceases to vibrate. And it is befitting too that _Jesus_ should utter it. He alone is qualified to do so. The words spoken to the bereaved one of Bethany are words purchased by His own atoning work. "Thy brother--thy sister--thy friend, shall rise again!" This brief oracle of comfort was addressed, in the first instance, specially to Martha. It had a primary reference, doubtless, to the vast miracle which was on the eve of performance. But there were more hearts to comfort and souls to cheer than one; that Almighty Saviour had at the moment troops of other bereaved ones in view; myriads on myriads of aching, bleeding spirits who could not, like the Bethany mourner, rush into His visible presence for consolation and peace. He expands, therefore, for their sakes the sublime and exalted solace which He ministers to _her_. And in words which have carried their echoes of hope and joy through all time, He exclaims--"I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth on Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth on Me shall never die!" If Bethany had bequeathed no other "memory" than _this_, how its name would have been embalmed in hallowed recollection! Truly these two brief verses are as apples of gold in pictures of silver. "_Jesus, the Resurrection and the Life._" Himself conquering death, He has conquered it for His people--opening the kingdom of heaven to all believers. The full grandeur of that Bethany utterance could not be appreciated by her to whom it was first spoken. His death and resurrection was still, even to His nearest disciples, a profound mystery. Little did that trembling spirit, who was now gazing on her living Lord with tearful eye, dream that in a few brief days the grave was to hold HIM, too, as its captive; and that guardian angels were to proclaim words which would now have been all enigma and strangeness, "The Lord is risen!" With us it is different. The mighty deed has been completed. "Christ has died; yea, rather has risen again!" The resurrection and revival of Lazarus was a marvellous act, but it was only the rekindling of a little star that had ceased to twinkle in the firmament. A week more--and Martha would witness the Great Sun of all Being undergoing an eclipse; in a mysterious moment veiled and shrouded in darkness and blood; and then all at once coming forth like a Bridegroom from his chamber to shine the living and luminous centre of ransomed millions! Christians! we can turn now aside and see this great sight--death closing the lips of the Lord of life--a borrowed grave containing the tenantless body of the Creator of all worlds! Is death to hold that prey? Is the grave to retain in gloomy custody that immaculate frame? Is the living temple to lie there an inglorious ruin, like other crumbling wrecks of mortality? The question of our eternal life or eternal death was suspended on the reply! If death succeeds in chaining down the illustrious Victim, our hopes of everlasting life are gone for ever. In vain can these dreary portals be ever again unbarred for the children of fallen humanity. He has gone there as their surety-Saviour. If his suretyship be accepted--if He meet and fulfil all the requirements of an outraged law, the gates of the dismal prison-house will and must be opened. If, on the other hand, there be any flaw or deficiency in His person or work as the Kinsman-Redeemer, then no power can snap the chains which bind Him; the tomb will refuse to surrender what it has in custody; the hopes of His people must perish along with Him! Golgotha must become the grave of a world's hopes! But the stone _has_ been rolled away. The grave-clothes are all that are left as trophies of the conqueror. Angels are seated in the vacant tomb to verify with their gladdening assurance His own Bethany oracle, "The Lord has risen." "He is indeed the resurrection and the life; he that liveth and believeth on Him shall never die!" Yes! however many be the comforting thoughts which cluster around the grave of Lazarus, grander still is it to gather, as Jesus Himself here bids us, around His own tomb, and to gaze on His own resurrection scene! It was the most eventful morning of all time. It will be the focus point of the Church's hope and triumph through all eternity. "The Lord is risen!" It proclaimed the atonement complete, sin pardoned, mediation accepted, the law satisfied, God glorified! "The Lord is risen!" It proclaimed resurrection and life for His people--life (the forfeited _gift_ of life) now repurchased. That mighty victor rose not for Himself, but as the representative and earnest of countless multitudes, who exult in His death as their life--in His resurrection as the pledge and guarantee of their everlasting safety;--"I am He that liveth," and "because I live ye shall live also." Anticipating His own glorious rising, He might well speak to Martha, standing before Him as the representative of weeping, sinful, woe-worn humanity, "He that liveth and believeth on Me shall never die." "_In Me_, death is no longer death; it is only a parenthesis in life--a transition to a loftier stage of being. _In Me_, the grave is the vestibule of heaven, the robing-room of immortality!" Reader, yours is the same strong consolation. "Believe," "Only believe" in that risen Lord. He has purchased all, paid all, procured all! Look into that vacant tomb; see sin cancelled, guilt blotted out, the law magnified, justice honoured, the sinner saved! Ay, and more than that, as you see the moral conqueror marching forth clothed with immortal victory, you see Him not alone! He is heading and heralding a multitude which no man can number. Himself the victorious precursor, he is shewing to these exulting thousands "the _path_ of life." He tells them to dread neither for themselves or others that lonesome tomb. The curse is extracted from it; the envenomed sting is plucked away. In passing through its lonesome chambers they may exult in the thought that a mightier than they has sanctified it by His own presence, and transmuted what was once a gloomy portico into a triumphal arch, bearing the inscription, "O death, I will be thy plagues; O grave, I will be thy destruction!" IX. THE MOURNER'S CREED. How stands our faith? These mighty thoughts and words of consolation--are they really believed, felt, trusted in, rejoiced over? Christian, "Believest _thou this_?"[13] Art thou really looking to this exalted life-giving Saviour? Hast thou in some feeble measure realised this resurrection-life as thine own? Hast thou the joyful consciousness of participating in this vital union with a living Lord? In vain do we listen to these sublime Bethany utterances unless we feel "_Jesus speaks to me_," and unless we be living from day to day under their invigorating power. He had unfolded to Martha in a single verse a whole Gospel; He had irradiated by a few words the darkness of the tomb; and now, turning to the poor dejected weeper at his side, He addresses the all-important question, "Believest thou _this_?" Her faith had been but a moment before staggering. Some guilty misgivings had been mingling with her anguished tears. She has now an opportunity afforded of rising above her doubts,--the ebbings and flowings of her fitful feelings,--and cleaving fast to the Living Rock. It elicits an unfaltering response--"Yea, Lord, I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the world."[14] Remarkable confession! We should not so much have wondered to hear it after the grave, hard by, had been rifled, and the silent lips of Lazarus had been unsealed; or had she stood like the other Mary at her Lord's own sepulchre in the garden, and after a few brief, but momentous days and hours, seen a whole flood of light thrown on the question of His Messiahship. But as yet there was much to damp such a bold confession, and lead to hesitancy in the avowal of such a creed. The poverty, the humiliations, the unworldly obscurity of that solitary _One_ who claimed no earthly birthright, and owned no earthly dwelling, were not all these, particularly to a Jew, at variance with every idea formed in connexion with the coming Shiloh? Was Martha's then a blind unmeaning faith? Far from it. It was nurtured, doubtless, in that quiet home of holy love, where, while Lazarus yet lived, this mysterious Being, in an earthly form and in pilgrim garb, came time after time discoursing to them often, as we are warranted to believe, on the dignity of His nature, the glories of His person, the completeness of His work. It was neither the evidence of miracle or prophecy which had revealed to that weeping disciple that Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of God. With the exception of Micah's statement regarding Bethlehem-Ephratah as His birthplace, we question if any other remarkable prediction concerning Him had yet been fulfilled; and so far as miracles were concerned, though she may and must have doubtless known of them by hearsay, we have no evidence that she had as yet so much as witnessed _one_. We never read till this time of their quiet village being the scene of any manifestations of His power. These had generally taken place either in Jerusalem or in the cities and coasts of Galilee. The probability, therefore, is that Martha, had never yet seen that arm of Omnipotence bared, or witnessed those prodigies with which elsewhere He authenticated His claims to Divinity. _Whence then her creed?_ May we not believe she had made her noble avowal mainly from the study of that beauteous, spotless character--from those looks, and words, and deeds--from that lofty teaching--so unlike every human system--so wondrously adapted to the wants and woes, the sins, the sorrows, and aching necessities of the human heart. All this had left on her own spirit, and on that of Lazarus and Mary, the irresistible impression and evidence that he was indeed the Lord of Glory--"the Hope of Israel, and the Saviour thereof." And is it not the same evidence we exult in still? Is this not the _reason_ of many a humble believer's creed and faith--who may be all unlettered and unlearned in the evidences of the schools--the external and internal bulwarks of our impregnable Christianity? Ask them why they believe? why their faith is so firm--their love so strong? They will tell you that that Saviour, in all the glories of His person, in all the completeness of His work, in all the beauties of His character, is the very Saviour they need!--that His Gospel is the very errand of mercy suited to their souls' necessities;--that His words of compassion, and tenderness, and hope, are in every way adapted to meet the yearnings of their longing spirits. They need to stand by the grave of no Lazarus to be certified as to His Messiahship. His looks and tones--His character and doctrine,--His cures and remedies for the wants and woes of their ruined natures, point Him out as the true Heavenly Physician. They can tell of the best of all evidences, and the strongest of all--the _experimental_ evidence! They are no theorists. Religion is no subject with them of barren speculation; it is a matter of inner and heartfelt experience. They have tried the cure--they have found it answer;--they have fled to the Physician--they have applied His balm--they have been healed and live! And you might as well try to convince the restored blind that the sunlight which has again burst on them is a wild dream of fancy, or the restored deaf that the world's joyous melodies which have again awoke on them are the mockeries of their own brain, as convince the spiritually enlightened and awakened that He who has proved to them light and life, and joy and peace--their comfort in prosperity--their refuge in adversity--is other than the _Son of God and Saviour of the world_! Reader, is this your experience? Have you tasted and seen that the Lord is gracious? Have you felt the preciousness of His gospel, the adaptation of His work to the necessities of your ruined condition?--the power of His grace, the prevalence of His intercession, the fulness and glory and truthfulness of His promises? Are you exulting in Him as the Resurrection and Life, who has raised you from the death of sin, and will at last raise you from the power of death, and invest you with that eternal life which His love has purchased? Precious as is this hope and confidence at all times, specially so is it, mourners in Zion! in your seasons of sorrow. When human refuges fail, and human friendships wither, and human props give way, how sustaining to have this "anchor of the soul sure and steadfast"--union with a living Lord on earth, and the joyful hope of endless and uninterrupted union and communion with Him in glory! Are you even now enjoying, through your tears, this blessed persuasion, and exulting in this blessed creed? Do you know the secret of that twofold solace, "the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings?"--the "fellowship of His sufferings" telling of His sympathy with your sorrows below;--the "power of His resurrection" assuring you of the glorious gift of everlasting life in a world where sorrow dare not enter. Rest not satisfied with a mere outward creed and confession that "Jesus is the Saviour." Let yours be the nobler _formula_ of an appropriating faith--"He is my Saviour; He loved ME, and gave Himself for ME." Let it not be with you a salvation _possible_, but a salvation _found_; so that, with a tried apostle, you can rise above the surges of deepening tribulation as you glory in the conviction, "I _know_ in whom I _have_ believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him." Sad, indeed, for those who, when "deep calleth unto deep," have no such "strong consolation" to enable them to ride out the storm; who, when sorrow and bereavement overtake them--the lowering shadows of the dark and cloudy day--have still to grope after an _unknown Christ_; and, amid the hollowness of earthly and counterfeit comforts, have to seek, for the first time, the _only_ true One. Oh! if our hour of trial has not yet come, let us be prepared for it--for come it will. Let us seek to have our vessels moored _now_ to the Rock of Ages, that when the tempest arises--when the floods beat, and the winds blow, and the wrecks of earthly joy are seen strewing the waters--we may triumphantly utter the challenge, "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" "Say, ye who tempt The sea of life, by summer gales impell'd, Have ye this anchor? Sure a time will come For storms to try you, and strong blasts to rend Your painted sails, and shred your gold like chaff O'er the wild wave. And what a wreck is man, If sorrow find him unsustain'd by God!" X. THE MASTER. Martha can withhold no longer from her sister the joyful tidings which she has been the first to hear. With fleet foot she hastens back to the house with the announcement, "The Master is come, and calleth for thee." Mary hears, but makes no comment. Wrapt in the silence of her own meditative grief, "when she heard that, she arose quickly and came unto Him." "To her all earth could render nothing back Like that pale changeless brow. Calmly she stood As marble statue. In that maiden's breast Sorrow and loneliness sank darkly down, Though the blanch'd lips breathed out no boisterous plaint Of common grief." The formal sympathisers who gathered around her had observed her departure. They are led to form their conjectures as to the cause of this sudden break in her trance of anguish. She had up till that moment, with the instinctive aversion which mourners only know, and which we have formerly alluded to in the case of Martha, been shrinking from facing the gladsome light of heaven, caring not to look abroad on the blight of an altered world. But the few words her sister uttered, and which the other auditors manifestly had not comprehended, all at once rouse her from her seat of pensive sadness, and her shadow is seen hurrying by the darkened lattice. They can form but one surmise: that, in accordance with wont, she has betaken herself to the burial-ground to feed her morbid grief "She goeth unto the grave to weep there." Ah! little did they know how much nobler was her motive--how truer and grander the solace she sought and found. There is little that is really profitable or hallowed in visiting the grave of loved ones. Though fond affection will, from some false feeling of the tribute due to the memory of the departed, seek to surmount sadder thoughts, and linger at the spot where treasured ashes repose, yet--think and act as we may--there is nothing cheering, nothing elevating _there_. The associations of the burial-place are all with the humiliating triumphs of the King of Terrors. It is a view of death taken from the _earthly_ entrance of the valley, not the _heavenly_ view of it as that valley opens on the bright plains of immortality. The gay flowers and emerald sod which carpet the grave are poor mockeries to the bereft spirit, shrouding, as they do, nobler withered blossoms which the foot of the destroyer has trampled into dust, and which no earthly beauty can again clothe, or earthly spring reanimate. They are to be pitied who have no higher solace, no better remedy for their grief, than thus to water with unavailing tears the trophies of death; or to read the harrowing record which love has traced on its slab of cold marble, telling of the vanity of human hopes. Such, however, was not Mary's errand in leaving the chamber of bereavement. That drooping flower was not opening her leaves, only to be crushed afresh with new tear-floods of sorrow. She sought _One_ who would disengage her soiled and shattered tendrils from the chill comforts of earth, and bathe them in the genial influences of Heaven. The music of her Master's name alone could put gladness into her heart--tempt her to muffle other conflicting feelings and hasten to His feet. "_The Master is come!_" Nothing could have roused her from her profound grief but this. While her poor earthly comforters are imagining her prostrate at the sepulchre's mouth, giving vent to the wild delirium of her young grief, she is away, not to the victim of death, but to the Lord of Life, either to tell to Him the tale of her woe, or else to listen from His lips to words of comfort no other comforter had given. Is there not the same music in that name--the same solace and joy in that presence still? Earthly sympathy is not to be despised; nay, when death has entered a household, taken the dearest and the best and laid them in the tomb, nothing is more soothing to the wounded, crushed, and broken one, than to experience the genial sympathy of true Christian friendship. Those, it may be, little known before (comparative strangers), touched with the story of a neighbour's sorrow, come to offer their tribute of condolence, and to "weep with those that weep." Never is _true_ friendship so tested as then. Hollow attachments, which have nothing but the world or a time of prosperity to bind them, discover their worthlessness. "Summer friends" stand aloof--they have little patience for the sadness of sorrow's countenance and the funereal trappings of the death-chamber; while sympathy, based on lofty Christian principle, loves to minister as a subordinate healer of the broken-hearted, and to indulge in a hundred nameless ingenious offices of kindness and love. _But_ "thus far shalt thou go, and no farther." The purest and noblest and most disinterested of earthly friends can only go a certain way. Their minds and sympathies are limited. They cannot enter into the deep recesses of the smitten heart--the yawning crevices that bereavement has laid bare. _But_ JESUS _can_! Ah! there are capacities and sensibilities in that Mighty Heart that can probe the deepest wound and gauge the profoundest sorrow. While from the _best_ of earthly comforters the mind turns away unsatisfied; while the burial-ground and the grave only recall the deep humiliations of the body's wreck and ruin--with what fond emotion does the spirit, like Mary, turn to Him who possesses the majesty of Deity with all the tenderness of humanity. The Mighty Lord, and yet the Elder Brother! The sympathy of man is often selfish, formal, constrained, commonplace, coming more from the surface than from the depths of the heart. It is the finite sympathy of a finite creature. The Redeemer's sympathy is that of the perfect Man and the infinite God--able to enter into all the peculiarities of the case--all the tender features and shadings of sorrow which are hidden from the keenest and kindliest _human_ eye. Mary's procedure is a true type and picture of what the broken heart of the Christian feels. Not undervaluing human sympathy, yet, nevertheless, all the crowd of sympathising friends--Jewish citizens, Bethany villagers--are nothing to her when she hears _her Lord has come_! Happy for us if, while the world, like the condoling crowd of Jews, is forming its own cold speculations on the amount of our grief and the bitterness of our loss, we are found hastening to cast ourselves at our Saviour's feet; if our afflictions prove to us like angel messengers from the inner sanctuary--calling us from friends, home, comforts, blessings, all we most prize on earth--telling us that ONE is nigh who will more than compensate for the loss of all--"_The Master is come, and calleth for thee!_" It is the very end and design our gracious God has in all His dealings, to lead _us_, as he led Mary, to the feet of Jesus. Yes! thou poor weeping, disconsolate one, "The Master calleth for _thee_." _Thee_ individually, as if thou stoodest the alone sufferer in a vast world. He wishes to pour His oil and wine into thy wounded heart--to give thee some overwhelming proof and pledge of the love he bears thee in this thy sore trial. He has come to pour drops of comfort in the bitter cup--to ease thee of thy heavy burden, and to point thee to hopes full of immortality. Go and learn what a kind, and gentle, and gracious Master He is! Go forth, Mary, and meet thy Lord. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning!" We may imagine her hastening along the foot-road, with the spirit of the Psalmist's words on her tongue--"As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God--for the living God!" XI. SECOND CAUSES. With a bounding heart, Mary was in a moment at her Master's feet. She weeps! and is able only to articulate, in broken accents, "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." It is the repetition of Martha's same expression. Often at a season of sore bereavement some one poignant thought or reflection takes possession of the mind, and, for the time, overmasters every other. This echo of the other mourner's utterance leads us to conclude that it had been a familiar and oft-quoted phrase during these days of protracted agony. This independent quotation, indeed, on the part of each, gives a truthful beauty to the whole inspired narrative. The twin sisters--musing on the terrible past, gazing through their tears on the vacant seat at their home-hearth--had been every now and then breaking the gloomy silence of the deserted chamber by exclaiming, "If _He_ had been here, this never would have happened! This is the bitterest drop in our cup, that all might have been different! These hot tears might never have dimmed our eyes; our loved Lazarus might have been a living and loving brother still! Oh! that the Lord had delayed for a brief week that untoward journey, or anticipated by four days his longed-for return; or would that we had despatched our messenger earlier for Him. It is now too late. Though He _has_ at last come, His advent can be of little avail. The fell destroyer has been at our cottage door before Him. He may soothe our grief, but the blow cannot be averted. _His_ friend and _our_ brother is locked in sleep too deep to be disturbed." Ah! is it not the same unkind surmise which is still often heard in the hour of bereavement and in the home of death?--a guilty, unholy brooding over _second causes_. "If such and such had been done, my child had still lived. If that mean, or that remedy, or that judicious caution had been employed, this terrible overthrow of my earthly hopes would never have occurred; that loved one would have been still walking at my side; that chaplet of sorrows would not now have been girding my brows; the Bethany sepulchre would have been unopened--'This my brother had not died!'" Hush! hush! these guilty insinuations--that dethroning of God from the Providential Sovereignty of His own world--that hasty and inconsiderate verdict on His divine procedure. "IF _Thou_ hadst been here!" Can we, _dare_ we doubt it? Is the departure of the immortal soul to the spirit-world so trivial a matter that the life-giving God takes no cognisance of it? No! Mourning one, in the deep night of thy sorrow, thou must rise above "untoward coincidences"--thou must cancel the words "accident" and "fate" from thy vocabulary of trial. God, _thy_ God, was _there_! If there _be_ perplexing accompaniments, be assured they were of _His_ permitting; all was planned--wisely, kindly planned. Question not the unerring rectitude of His dealings. Though _apparently_ absent, He was _really_ present. The apparent veiling of His countenance is only what Cowper calls "the severer aspect of His love." Kiss the rod that smites--adore the hand that lays low. Pillow thy head on that simple, yet grandest source of composure--"_The Lord reigneth!_" It is not for us to venture to dictate what the procedure of infinite love and wisdom should be. To our dim and distorted views of things, it might have been more for the glory of God and the Church's good, if the "beautiful bird of light" had still "sat with its folded wings" ere it sped to nestle in the eaves of Heaven. But if its earthly song has been early hushed; if those full of promise have been allowed rather to fall asleep in Jesus, "Even so, Father; for it seems good in Thy sight!" It was from no want of power or ability on God's part that they were not recalled from the gates of death. "We will be dumb--we will open not our mouths, because _Thou_ didst it." Afflicted one! if the brother or friend whom you now mourn be a brother in glory--if he be now among the white-robed multitude--his last tear wept--for ever beyond reach of a sinning and sorrowing world--can you upbraid your God for his early departure? Would you weep him back if you could from his early crown? Fond nature, as it stands in trembling agony watching the ebbing pulses of life, would willingly arrest the pale messenger--stay the chariot--and have the wilderness relighted with his smile. But when all is over, and you are able to contemplate, with calm emotion, the untold bliss into which the unfettered spirit has entered, do you not feel as if it were cruel selfishness alone that would denude that sainted pilgrim of his glory, and bring him once more back to earth's cares and tribulations? "We sadly watch'd the close of all, Life balanced in a breath; We saw upon his features fall The awful shade of death. All dark and desolate we were; And murmuring nature cried-- 'Oh! surely, Lord! hadst _Thou_ been here Our brother had not died!' "But when its glance the memory cast On all that grace had done; And thought of life's long warfare pass'd, And endless victory won. Then faith prevailing, wiped the tear, And looking upward, cried-- 'O Lord! Thou surely _hast_ been here, Our brother has _not_ died!'" We have already had occasion to note the impressive and significant silence of the Saviour to Mary. We may just again revert to it in a sentence here. Martha had, a few moments before, given vent to the same impassioned utterance respecting her departed brother. Jesus had replied to her; questioned her as to her faith; and opened up to her sublime sources of solace and consolation. With Mary it is different. He responds to her also--but it is only in silence and in tears! Why this distinction? Does it not unfold to us a lovely feature in the dealings of Jesus--how He adapts Himself to the peculiarities of individual character. With those of a bolder temperament He can argue and remonstrate--with those of a meek, sensitive, contemplative spirit, He can be silent and weep! The stout but manly heart of Peter needed at times a bold and cutting rebuke; a similar reproof would have crushed to the dust the tender soul of John. The character of the one is painted in his walking on the stormy water to meet his Lord; of the other, in his reclining on the bosom of the same Divine Master, drinking sacred draughts at the Fountain-head of love! So it was with Martha and Mary, "the Peter and John of Bethany;" and so it is with His people still. How beautifully and considerately Jesus _studies_ their case--adapting His dealings to what He sees and knows they can bear--fitting the yoke to the neck, and the neck to the yoke. To some He is "the Lion of the tribe of Judah, uttering His thunders"--pleading with Martha-spirits "by terrible things in righteousness;"--to others (the shrinking, sensitive Marys) whispering only accents of gentleness--giving expression to no needless word that would aggravate or embitter their sorrows. Ah, believer! how tenderly considerate is your dear Lord! Well may you make it your prayer, "Let me fall into the hands of God, for great are His mercies!" He may at times, like Joseph to His brethren, _appear_ to "speak roughly," but it is dissembled _kindness_. When a father inflicts on his wayward child the severest and harshest discipline, none but he can tell the bitter heart-pangs of yearning love that accompany every stroke of the rod. So it is with your Father in Heaven; with this difference, that the earthly parent _may_ act unwisely, arbitrarily, indiscreetly--he may misjudge the necessities of the case--he may do violence and wrong to the natural disposition of his offspring. Not so with an all-wise Heavenly Parent. He will inflict no redundant or unneeded chastisement. Man _may_ err, _has_ erred, and _is_ ever erring--but "as for God, His way is perfect!" XII. THE WEEPING SAVIOUR. The silent procession is moving on. We may suppose they have reached the gates of the burial-ground. But a new scene and incident here arrest our thoughts! It is not the humiliating memorials of mortality that lie scattered around,--the caves and grottoes and grassy heaps sacred to many a Bethany villager. It is not even the newly sealed stone which marks the spot where Lazarus "sleeps." Let us turn aside for a little, and see this great sight. It is the Creator of all worlds in tears!--the God-man Mediator dissolved in tenderest grief! Of all the memories of Bethany, this surely is the _most_ hallowed and the most wondrous. These tears form the most touching episode in sacred story; and if we are in sorrow, it may either dry our own tears, or give them the warrant to flow when we are told--_Jesus wept!_ Whence those tears? This is what we shall now inquire. There is often a false interpretation put upon this brief and touching verse, as if it denoted the expression of the Saviour's sorrow for the loss of a loved friend. This, it is plain, it could not be. However mingled may have been the hopes and fears of the weeping mourners around him, _He_ at least knew that in a few brief moments Lazarus was to be restored. He could not surely weep so bitterly, possessing, as He then did, the confident assurance that death was about to give back its captive, and light up every tear-dimmed eye with an ecstasy of joy. Whence, then, we again ask, this strange and mysterious grief? Come and let us surround the grave of Bethany, and as we behold the chief mourner at that grave, let us inquire why it was that "_Jesus wept!_" (1.) JESUS WEPT _out of Sympathy for the Bereaved_. The hearts around Him were breaking with anguish. All unconscious of how soon and how wondrously their sorrow was to be turned into joy, the appalling thought was alone present to them in all its fearfulness--"Lazarus is dead!" When _He_, the God-man Mediator, with the refined sensibilities of His tender heart, beheld the poignancy of that grief, the pent-up torrent of His own human sympathies could be restrained no longer. His tears flowed too. But it would be a contracted view of the tears of Jesus to think that two solitary mourners in a Jewish graveyard engrossed and monopolised that sympathy. It had a far wider sweep. There were hearts, yes--myriads of desolate sufferers in ages then unborn, who He knew would be brought to stand as He was then doing by the grave of loved relatives--mourners who would have no visible comforter or restorer to rush to, as had Martha and Mary, to dry their tears, and give them back their dead; and when He thought of this, "_Jesus wept!_" What an interest it gives to that scene of weeping, to think that at that eventful moment, the Saviour had before Him the bereaved of _all time_--that His eye was roaming at that moment through deserted chambers, and vacant seats, and opened graves, down to the end of the world. The aged Jacobs and Rachels weeping for their children--the Ezekiels mourning in the dust and ashes of disconsolate widowhood, "the desire of their eyes taken away by a stroke"--the unsolaced Marys and Marthas brooding over a dark future, with the prop and support of existence swept down, the central sun and light of their being eclipsed in mysterious darkness! Think, (as you are now perusing these pages,) throughout the wide world, how many breaking hearts there are--how loud the wail of suffering humanity, could we but hear it!--those written childless and fatherless, and friendless and homeless!--Bethany-processions pacing with slow and measured step to deposit their earthly all in the cold custody of the tomb! Think of the Marys and Marthas who are now "going to some grave to weep there," perhaps with no Saviour's smile to gladden them--or the desolate chambers that are now resounding to the plaintive dirge, "O Absalom, Absalom, would God I had died for thee; O Absalom, my son! my son!" Think of all these scenes at that moment vividly suggested and pictured to the Redeemer's eye--the long and loud _miserere_, echoing dismally from the remotest bounds of time, and there "entering into the ear of the God of Sabaoth," and can you wonder that--_Jesus wept!_ Blessed and amazing picture of the Lord of glory! It combines the delineation alike of the tenderness of His humanity, and the majesty of His Godhead. His Humanity! It is revealed in those tear drops, falling from a human eye on a human grave. His _Godhead_! It is manifested in His ability to take in with a giant grasp all the prospective sufferings of His suffering people. Weeping believer! thine anguished heart was included in those Bethany tears! Be assured thy grief was visibly portrayed at that moment to that omniscient Saviour. He had all thy sorrows before Him--thy anxious moments during thy friend's tedious sickness--the trembling suspense--the nights of weary watching--the agonising revelation of "no hope"--the closing scene! Bethany's graveyard became to Him a picture-gallery of the world's aching hearts; and _thine_, yes! _thine_ was _there_! and as He beheld it, "_Jesus wept!_" "Jesus wept! These tears are over, But His heart is still the same; Kinsman, Friend, and Elder Brother, Is His everlasting name. Saviour, who can love like Thee, _Gracious_ One of Bethany! "When the pangs of trial seize us, When the waves of sorrow roll, I will lay my head on Jesus, Pillow of the troubled soul. Surely none can feel like Thee, _Weeping_ One of Bethany! "Jesus wept! And still in glory, He can mark each mourner's tear; Loving to retrace the story Of the hearts he solaced here. Lord! when I am call'd to die, Let me think of Bethany! "Jesus wept! That tear of sorrow Is a legacy of love; Yesterday, to-day, to-morrow, He the same doth ever prove. Thou art all in all to me, _Living_ One of Bethany!" (2.) JESUS WEPT _when He thought of the triumphs of Death_! He was treading a burial ground--mouldering heaps were around Him--silent sepulchral caves, giving forth no echo of life! It is a solemn and impressive thing, even for _us_, to tread the graveyard; more especially if there are there nameless treasures of buried affection. The thought that those whose smile gladdened to us every step in the wilderness, who formed our solace in sorrow, and our joy in adversity--whose words, and society, and converse were intertwined with our very being--it is solemn and saddening, as we tread that land of oblivion, to find these words and looks and tears unanswered--a gloomy silence hovering over the spot where the wrecks of worth and loveliness are laid! He would have a bold, a stern heart indeed who could pace unmoved over such hallowed ground, and forbid a tear to flow over the gushing memories of the past! What, then, must it have been at that moment in Bethany with _Jesus_, when he saw one of those purchased by his own blood (dearest to him) chased by the unsparing destroyer to that gloomy prison-house? If we have supposed that the tears of Martha and Mary were suggestive of manifold other broken and sorrowing hearts in other ages, we may well believe that graveyard was suggestive of triumphs still in reserve for the tomb, numberless trophies which in every age were to be reaped in by the King of Terrors until the reaper's arm was paralyzed, and death swallowed up in victory. The few silent sepulchres around must have significantly called to the mind of the Divine spectator how sin had blasted and scathed His noblest workmanship; converting the fairest province of His creation into one vast _Necropolis_,--one dismal "city of the dead!" The body of man, "so fearfully and wonderfully made," and on which he had originally placed His own impress of "very good," _ruined_, and resolved into a mass of humiliating dust! If the Architect mourns over the destruction of some favourite edifice which the storm has swept down, or the fire has wrapt in conflagration and reduced to ashes--if the Sculptor mourns to see his breathing marble with one rude stroke hurled to the ground, and its fragments scattered at his feet--what must have been the sensations of the mighty Architect of the human frame, at whose completion the morning stars and the sons of God chanted a loud anthem--what must have been His sensations as He thought of them, now a devastated wreck, mouldering in dissolution and decay, the King of Terrors sitting in regal state, holding his high holiday over a vassal world! In Bethany He beheld only a few of these broken and prostrate columns, but they were powerfully suggestive of millions on millions which were yet in coming ages to undergo the same doom of mortality. If even our less sensitive hearts may be wrung with emotion at the tidings of some mournful catastrophe that occupies, after all, but some passing hour in the world's history, but which has carried death and lamentation into many households--the sudden pestilence that has swept down its thousands--the gallant vessel that was a moment before spreading proudly its white wings to the gale, the joyous hearts on board dreaming of hearth and home, and the "many ports that would exult in the gleam of her mast"--the next! hurrying down to the depths of an ocean grave, with no survivor to tell the tale!--or the terrible records of War--the ranks of bold and brave laid low in the carnage of battle--youth and strength and beauty and rank and friendship blent in one red burial!--if these and such like mournful tales of death, and the power of death, affect at the moment even the most callous amongst us, causing the lip to grow pale, and demanding the tribute of more than a tear, oh! what must it have been to the omniscient eye and exquisitely sensitive spirit of Jesus, as, taking in all time at a glance, He beheld the Pale Horse with its ghastly rider trampling under foot the vast human family; converting the globe in which they dwelt into a mournful valley of vision, filled with the wrecks and skeletons of breathing men and animated frames! The triumphs of death are, in ordinary circumstances, to us scarcely perceptible. He moves with noiseless tread. The footprint is made on the sands of time; but like the tides of the ocean, the world's oblivion-power washes it away. The name of yonder churchyard is "the _land of forgetfulness_!" Not so with the Lord of Life, the great Antagonist of this usurper! The future, a ghastly future, rose in appalling vividness before Him.--Death (vulture-like) flapping his wings over the multitudes he claimed as his own,--vessels freighted with immortality lying wrecked and stranded on the shores of Time! Yes! we can only understand the full import of these tears of Jesus, as we imagine to ourselves His Godlike eye penetrating at that moment every churchyard and every grave: the mausoleums of the great--the grassy sods of the poor; the marble cenotaph of the noble and illustrious slumbering under fretted aisle and cathedral canopy--the myriads whose requiem is chanted by the bleak winds of the desert or the chimes of the ocean! The child carried away in the twinkling of an eye--the blossom just opening, and then frost-blighted; the aged sire, cut down like a shock of corn in its season, falling withered and seared like the leaves of autumn; the young exulting in the prime of manhood; the pious and benevolent, the great and good, succumbing indiscriminately to the same inexorable decree; the erring and thoughtless, reckless of all warning, hurried away in the midst of scorned mercy--Oh! as He beheld this ghastly funeral procession moving before Him, the whole world going to the same long home, and He Himself alone left the survivor, can we wonder that _Jesus wept_? (3.) Once more, JESUS WEPT _when He thought of the impenitence and obduracy of the human heart_. This may not be at first sight patent as a cause of the tears of Jesus, but we may well believe it entered largely as an element into this strange flood of sorrow. He was about to perform a great (His greatest) miracle; but while He knew that, in consequence of this manifestation of His mighty power, many of those who now stood around Lazarus' tomb would _believe_, He knew also that others would only "despise, and wonder, and perish;" that while some, as we shall afterwards find, acknowledged Him as the Messiah, others went straightway into Jerusalem to concert with the Pharisees in plotting His murder. When He observed the impenitence of these obdurate hearts at His side, He could not subdue His tenderest emotion. We read that, when He saw the sisters weeping, _and the Jews that were with them weeping_, Jesus wept. These Jews could weep for a fellow-mortal, but they could not weep for _themselves_, and therefore _for them, Jesus wept_! One soul was precious to Him. He who alone can estimate alike the worth and the loss of the soul, might have wept, even had there been but one then present found to resist His claims and forfeit His salvation. But these tears extended far beyond that lonely spot in a Jewish village, and the few impenitent hearts that were then flocking around. These obdurate Jews were types of the world's impenitency. There was at that moment summoned before Him a mournful picture of the hardened hearts in every age--those who would read His gospel, and hear of His miracles, and listen to the story of His love all unmoved--who would die as they had lived, uncheered by His grace and unmeet for His presence. Ah! surely no cause could more tenderly elicit a Redeemer's tears than _this_--the thought of His Redemption scorned, His blood trampled on, His work set at nought. If we have thought of Him shedding tears over the ruin of the _body_, what must have been the depth and intensity of those tears over the sadder, more fearful ruin of the soul? Immortal powers, that ought to have been ennobled and consecrated to His service, alienated, degraded, destroyed!--immortal beings spurning from them the day of grace and the hopes of heaven! Bitter as may have been the wail of mourning and sorrowing hearts that may then have reached His ear from future ages, more agonising and dismal far must have been the wailing cry which, beyond the limits of time, came floating up from a dark and dreary eternity; those who might have believed and lived, but who blasphemed or trifled, neglected and procrastinated, and finally perished! If we think of it, it is not the loss of health, or the loss of wealth, or the loss of friends, which forms the heaviest of trials, the deepest ground of soul sadness. _We_ put on the sable attire as emblems of mourning; but if we saw it as a weeping Jesus sees it, there is more real cause for sackcloth and ashes in the heart at enmity with God, and despising His salvation, trampling under foot His Son, and enacting over again the sad tragedy of Calvary. Reader! are you at this moment guilty of living on in a state of presumptuous impenitence--salvation unsought--Jesus a stranger--His name unhonoured--His Bible unread--His promises unappropriated--His wrath undreaded--defeating all His marvellous appliances of love, and remonstrance, and forbearance--meeting a prodigal expenditure of patience and long-suffering with cold and chilling indifference and neglect--casting away from you the hoarded riches of eternity which He has been holding out for your acceptance? In that sacred Bethany ground, as ye mark these falling tear-drops which dim His eye, there may have been a tear for _you_! Eighteen hundred years have since elapsed, but He to whom "a thousand years are as one day," marked even _then_ your present ungrateful apostacy or guilty alienation--there was a tear then which stole down that cheek on account of unrequited love? Is that tear to flow in vain? Are you to mock His tender sympathy still with cold formalism, or persisted-in impenitency? Are you to think of Bethany and its tear-drops and still go on in sin? Ah, never was sermon preached to an erring or impenitent sinner half so eloquent as _this_. Paul was not given to weeping, and it makes his fervid love of souls all the more striking when we find him confessing that he had wept like a child over those who were "enemies to the cross of Christ." We have often felt Paul's burning tears over hardened sinners to be touching and impressive. But what are they, after all, in comparison with those of Paul's Lord? He, the Great Sun of the World--the Sun of Righteousness, was to set in a few brief days behind the walls of ungrateful Jerusalem in darkness and blood--His last rays seem now lingering over the crest of Olivet--His tears seem to tell that He has clung till He can cling no more to the fond hope that an impenitent nation and guilty city will yet turn at His reproof, believe and live. And still does He linger among _us_. Though the night cometh, the beams of mercy are still tardily lingering, as if loth to leave the backsliding to their wanderings, or the impenitent to their own midnight of despair. O Reader! leave not _this_ subject--leave not the graveyard of Bethany till you think of Jesus as then weeping for _thee_. Yes! for _thee_--thy pitiable condition--thy perverse ingratitude--thy slighting of His warnings--thy grieving of His spirit--thy unkindness to _Him_--thine obstinate disregard of thine own everlasting interests. Let it be the most wondrous and heart-searching of all the memories of Bethany, that for thy soul--that traitor, truant, worthless soul--which like a stray planet He might have suffered to drift away from Himself into the blackness of eternal darkness--helpless, hopeless, ruined, lost!--Yes! that for _thee_, JESUS WEPT! "And doth the Saviour weep Over His people's sin, Because we will not let Him keep The souls He died to win? Ye hearts that love the Lord, If at this sight ye burn, See that in thought, in deed, in word, Ye hate what made Him mourn." XIII. THE GRAVE STONE. They have now reached the grave. It was a rocky sepulchre. A flat stone (possibly with some Hebrew inscription) lay upon the mouth of it. In wondering amazement the sorrowing group follow the footsteps of the Saviour. "Behold how He loved him," whisper the Jews to one another as they witness His fast falling tears. Can His repairing thus to the tomb be anything more than to pay a mournful tribute to an honoured friendship, and behold the silent home of the loved dead? Nay; He is about, as the Lord of Life, to wrench away the swaddling-bands of corruption, to vindicate His name and prerogative as the "Abolisher of death"--to have the first-fruits of that vast triumph which, ages before the birth of time, He had anticipated with longing earnestness--"I will ransom them from the power of the grave, I will redeem them from death. O death, I will be thy plagues; O grave, I will be thy destruction." Does He proceed forthwith to speak the word, and to accomplish the giant deed? He breaks silence. But we listen, in the first instance, not to the omnipotent summons, but to an address to the bystanders--"_Jesus said, Take ye away the stone!_"[15] What need of this parenthesis in His mighty work? Why this summoning in any feeble human agency when His own independent fiat could have effected the whole? Would it not have been a more startling manifestation of Omnipotence, by a mandate similar to that which chained the tempests of Tiberias, or the demoniac of Gadara, to have hurled the incumbent stone into fragments? Might not He who has "the keys of the grave and of death" have Himself unlocked the portals preparatory to the vaster prodigy that was to follow? Nay, there was a mighty lesson to be read in thus delegating human hands to remove the intervening barrier. The Church of the living God may, in every age, gather from it instruction! What, then, does the Saviour here figuratively, but significantly, teach His people? Is it not the important truth that, though dependent on Him for all they are, and all they have, they are not thereby released and exempted from the use of _means_? He alone can bring back Lazarus from his death-sleep. Martha and Mary may weep an ocean of tears, but they cannot weep him back. They may linger for days and nights in that lonely graveyard, making it resound with their bitter dirges, but their impassioned entreaties will be mocked with impressive silence. Too well do they know _that_ spirit is fled beyond their recall--the spark of life extinguished beyond any earthly rekindling! But though the word of Omnipotence can alone bring back the dead, human hands and human efforts can roll away the interjacent stone, and prepare for the performance of the miracle; and after the miracle _is_ performed, human hands may again be called in to tear off the cerements of the tomb, to ungird the bandages from the restored captive, to "loose him and let him go!" This simple incident in the Bethany narrative admits of manifold practical applications. Let us look to it with reference to the mightier moral miracle of the Resurrection of the soul "dead in trespasses and sins." Jesus, and Jesus alone, can awake that soul from the deep slumber of its spiritual death, and invest it with the glories of a new resurrection-life. In vain can it awake of itself; no human skill can put animation into the moral skeleton. No power of human eloquence, no "excellency of man's wisdom," can open these rayless eyes, and pour life, and light, and hope into the dull caverns of the spiritual sepulchre. "Prophesy to the dry bones!"--We may prophesy for ever--we may wake the valley of vision by ceaseless invocations, but the dead will hear not. No bone of the spiritual skeleton will stir, for it is "not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the Lord of Hosts." But though it be a Divine work from first to last which effects the spiritual regeneration of man, are we from this presumptuously to disregard the use of means? Are prayer, and preaching, and human effort, and strenuous earnestness in the work of our high calling, are these all to be superseded, and pronounced unavailing and unnecessary? Nay, though man cannot wake to life his dormant spiritual energies--though these lie slumbering in the deep sleep of the sheeted dead, and nothing but Lazarus' Lord can break the moral trance--yet _he can use the appointed means_. He dare not be guilty of the monstrous inconsistency and crime of willingly allowing impediments to stand in the way of his spiritual revival which his own efforts may remove! He cannot expect his Lord to sound over his soul the gladdening accents of peace, and reconciliation, and joy, if some known sin be still lying, like the superincumbent grave-stone, which it is in his power to roll away, and at his peril if he suffer to remain! Christ is alone the "abolisher of death," and the "giver of life;" but notwithstanding this, "Roll ye away the stone!"--neglect not the means He has appointed and prescribed. If ye neglect prayer, and despise ordinances, and trifle with temptation, or venture on forbidden ground, ye are only making the intervening obstacle firmer and faster, and wilfully denuding yourselves of the gift of life. Naaman must plunge seven times in Jordan, else he cannot be made clean. To cleanse _himself_ of his leprosy he cannot, but to wash in Jordan _he can_. The Israelite must gaze on the brazen serpent; he cannot of himself heal one fevered wound, but to gaze on the appointed symbol of cure he can. In vain can the engines of war effect a breach on the walls of Jericho; but the hosts of Joshua can sound the appointed trumpet, and raise the prescribed shout, and the battlements in a moment are in the dust. Martha and Mary in vain can make their voices be heard in the "dull, cold ear of death," but at their Lord's bidding they can hurl back the outer portals where their dead is laid. They cannot unbind one fetter, but they can open with human hand the prison-door to admit the Divine Liberator. Let it not be supposed that in this we detract in any wise from the omnipotence of the Saviour's grace. God forbid! All is of grace, from first to last--free, sovereign grace. Man has no more merit in salvation than the beggar has merit in reaching forth his hand for alms, or in stooping down to drink of the wayside fountain. But neither must we ignore the great truth which God strives throughout His Word to impress upon us, that He works by _means_, and that for the neglect of these means we are ourselves responsible. Paul had the assurance given him by an angel from heaven, when tossed in the storm in Adria, that not one life in his vessel was to be lost; that though the ship was to be wrecked, all her crew were to come safe to land. But was there on this account any effort on his part relaxed to secure their safety? No! he toiled and laboured at the pumps and rigging and anchors as unremittingly as before; and when some of the sailors made the cowardly attempt, by lowering a small boat, to effect their own escape, the voice of the apostle was heard proclaiming, amid the storm, that unless they abode in the ship none could be saved! The true philosophy of the Gospel system is this, to feel as if much depended on ourselves; but at the same time entertaining the loftier conviction that _all_ depends upon God. Jesus, when He invites to the strait gate, does not inculcate remaining outside, in a state of passive and listless inaction, until the portals be seen to move by the Divine hand. His exhortation and command rather is, "Strive"--"knock"--_agonise_ to "enter in!" We are not to ascend to heaven, seated, like Elijah, in a chariot of fire, without toil or effort, but rather to "_fight_ the good fight of faith." The saying of the great Apostle is a vivid portraiture of what the Christian's feelings ought to be regarding personal holiness--"I laboured, ... yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me." As the Lord of Bethany gives the summons, "Roll ye away the stone," His words seem paraphrased in this other Scripture, "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God that worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure." You may feel assured that He will not impose upon you one needless burden; He will not exact more than He knows your strength will bear; He will ask no Peter to come to Him on the water, unless He impart at the same time strength and support on the unstable wave; He will not demand of you the endurance of providences, and trials, and temptations you are unable to cope with; He will not ask you to draw water if the well is too deep, or withdraw the stone if too heavy. But neither, at the same time, will He admit as an impossibility that which, as a free and responsible agent, it is in your power to avert. He will not regard as your misfortune what is your crime. "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me." Oh! let life be, more than it ever has been, one constant effort to roll away the stone from the moral sepulchre--carefully to remove every barrier between our souls and Jesus--looking forward to that glorious day when the voice of the Restorer shall be heard uttering the omnipotent "_Come forth!_" and to His angel assessors the mandate shall be given regarding the thronging myriads of risen dead, "_Loose them and let them go!_" XIV. UNBELIEF. Man--short-sighted man--often raises impossibilities when God does not. It is hard for rebellious unbelief to lie submissive and still. In moments when the spirit might well be overawed into silence, it gives utterance to its querulous questionings and surmisings rather than remain obedient at the feet of Christ, reposing on the sublime aphorism, "All things are possible to him that believeth." In the mind of Martha, where faith had been so recently triumphant, doubt and unbelief have begun again to insinuate themselves. This "Peter of her sex" had ventured out boldly on the water to meet her Lord. She had owned Him as the giver of life, and triumphed in Him as her Saviour! But now she is beginning to sink. A natural difficulty presents itself to her mind about the removal of the incumbent grave-stone. She avers how needless its displacement would be, as by this time corruption must have begun its fatal work. Four brief days only had elapsed since the eye of Lazarus had beamed with fraternal affection. Now these lips must be "saying to corruption, Thou art my father; to the worm, Thou art my mother and my sister." Death, she felt, must now be stamping his impressive mockery on that cherished earthly friendship, and, attired in his most terrible insignia, putting the last fatal extinguisher on the glimmerings of her faith and hope. "What need is there, Lord," she seems to say, "for this redundant labour? My brother is far beyond the reach even of a voice like Thine. Why excite vain expectations in my breast which never can be realised? That grave has closed upon him for the 'for ever' of time. Nothing now can revoke the sentence, or reanimate the silent dust, save the trump of God on the final day."[16] Thus blindly did Martha reason. She can see no other object her Redeemer can have for the removal of the stone, save to gaze once more on a form and countenance He loved. Both for His sake, and the strangers assembled, she recoils from the thought of disclosing so humiliating a sight. Alas! how little are fitful frames and feelings to be trusted. Only a few brief moments before, she had made a noble protestation of her faith in the presence of her Lord. His own majestic utterances had soothed her griefs, dried her tears, and elicited the confession that He was truly the Son of God. But the sight of the tomb and its mournful accompaniments obliterate for a moment the recollection of better thoughts and a nobler avowal. She forgets that "things which are impossible with men are possible with God." She is guilty of "limiting the Holy One of Israel." How often is it so with us! How easy is it for us, like Martha, to be bold in our creed when there is nothing to cross our wishes, or dim and darken our faith. But when the hour of trial comes, how often does _sense_ threaten to displace and supplant the nobler antagonist principle! How often do we lose sight of the Saviour at the very moment when we most need to have Him continually in view! How often are our convictions of the efficacy of prayer most dulled and deadened just when the dark waves are cresting over our heads, and voices of unbelief are uttering the upbraiding in our ears, "Where is now thy God?" But will Jesus leave His people to their own guilty unbelieving doubts? Will Martha, by her unworthy insinuations, put an arrest on her Lord's arm; or will He, in righteous retribution for her faithlessness, leave the stone sealed, and the dead unraised? Nay! He loves His people too well to let their stupid unbelief and hardness of heart interfere with His own gracious purposes! How tenderly He rebukes the spirit of this doubter. "Why," as if He said, "Why distrust me? Why stultify thyself with these unbelieving surmises. Hast thou already forgotten my own gracious assurances, and thine own unqualified acceptance of them. My hand is never shortened that it cannot save; my ear is never heavy that it cannot hear. I can call the things which are not, and make them as though they were. Said I not unto thee, in that earnest conversation which I had a little ago outside the village, in which Gospel faith was the great theme, if thou wouldst believe, thou shouldst see the glory of God?" This Bethany utterance has still a voice,--a voice of rebuke and of comfort in our hours of trial. When, like aged Jacob, we are ready to say, "All these things are against me;" when we are about to lose the footsteps of a God of love, or _have_ perhaps lost them, there is a voice ready to hush into silence every unbelieving doubt and surmise. "Although thou sayest thou canst not see Him, yet judgment is before Him, therefore trust thou in Him." God often thus hides Himself from His people in order to try their faith, and elicit their confidence. He puts us in perplexing paths--"allures" and "brings into the wilderness," only, however, that we may see more of Himself, and that He may "speak comfortably unto us." He lets our need attain its extremity, that His intervention may appear the more signal. He suffers apparently even His own promises to fail, that He may test the faith of His waiting people;--tutor them to "hope against hope," and to find, in _unanswered_ prayers and baffled expectations, only a fresh reason for clinging to His all-powerful arm, and frequenting His mercy-seat. He dashes first to the ground our human confidences and refuges, shewing how utterly "vain is the help of man;" so that faith, with her own folded, dove-like wings, may repose in quiet confidence in His faithfulness, saying, "In the Lord put I my trust: why say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?" Reader! It would be well for you to hear this gentle chiding of Christ, too, in the moment of your _spiritual_ depression;--when complaining of your corruptions, the weakness of your graces, your low attainments in holiness, the strength of your temptations, and your inability to resist sin. "_Said I not unto thee_," interposes this voice of mingled reproof and love, "My grace is sufficient for thee?" "The bruised reed I will not break, the smoking flax I will not quench." "Look unto _Me_, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth." We are too apt to look to _ourselves_, to turn our contemplation _inwards_, instead of keeping the eye of faith centered undeviatingly on a faithful covenant-keeping God, laying our finger on every promise of His Word, and making the challenge regarding each, "Hath he said, and shall he not do it? or hath he spoken, and shall he not bring it to pass?" Yes; there may be much to try and perplex. Sense and sight may stagger, and stumble, and fall; we may be able to see no break in the clouds; "deep may be calling to deep," and wave responding to wave, "yet the Lord will command his loving-kindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me." If we only "_believe_" in spite of unbelief; hoping on, and praying on, and trusting on; like the great Father of the faithful, in the midst of adverse providences, "strong in faith, giving glory to God," He will yet cause the day-spring from on high to visit us. Even in _this_ world perplexing paths may be made plain, and slippery places smooth, and judgments "bright as the noonday;" but if not _here_, there _is_ at least a glorious day of disclosures at hand, when the reign of unbelieving doubt shall terminate for ever, when the archives of a chequered past will be ransacked of their every mystery;--all events mirrored and made plain in the light of eternity; and this saying of the weeping Saviour of Bethany obtain its true and everlasting fulfilment, "SAID I NOT UNTO THEE, IF THOU WOULDST BELIEVE, THOU SHOULDST SEE THE GLORY OF GOD?" XV. THE DIVINE PLEADER. The stone is rolled away, but there is a solemn pause just when the miracle is about to be performed. _Jesus prays!_ The God-Man Mediator--the Lord of Life--the Abolisher of Death--the Being of all Beings--who had the boundless treasures of eternity in His grasp--pauses by the grave of the dead, and lifts up His eyes to heaven in supplication! How often in the same incidents, during our Lord's incarnation, do we find His manhood and His Godhead standing together in stupendous contrast. At His birth, the mystic star and the lowly manger were together; at His death, the ignominious cross and the eclipsed sun were together. Here He weeps and prays at the very moment when He is baring the arm of Omnipotence. The "mighty God" appears in conjunction with "the man Christ Jesus." "His name is Immanuel, God with us." The body of Lazarus was now probably, by the rolling away of the stone, exposed to view. It was a humiliating sight. Earth--the grave--could afford no solace to the spectators. The Redeemer, by a significant act, shews them where alone, at such an hour, comfort can be found. He points the mourning spirit to its only true source of consolation and peace in God Himself, teaching it to rise above the mortal to the immortal--the corruptible to the incorruptible--from earth to heaven. Ah! there is nothing but humiliation and sadness in every view of the grave and corruption. Why dwell on the shattered casket, and not rather on the jewel which is sparkling brighter than ever in a better world? Why persist in gazing on the trophies of the last enemy, when we can joyfully realise the emancipated soul exulting in the plenitude of purchased bliss? Why fall with broken wing and wailing cry to the dust, when on eagle-pinion we can soar to the celestial gate, and learn the unkindness of wishing the sainted and crowned one back to the nether valley? It is _Prayer_, observe, which thus brings the eye and the heart near to heaven. It is _Prayer_ which opens the celestial portals, and gives to the soul a sight of the invisible. Yes; ye who may be now weeping in unavailing sorrow over the departed, remember, in conjunction with the _tears_, the _prayers_ of Jesus. Many a desolate mourner derives comfort from the thought--"Jesus wept." Forget not this other simple entry in our touching narrative, telling where the spirit should ever rest amid the shadows of death--"_Jesus lifted up his eyes, and said, Father, I thank Thee that Thou hast heard me. And I knew that Thou hearest me always._"[17] Let us gather for a little around this incident in the story of Bethany. It is one of the many golden sayings of priceless value. That utterance has at this moment lost none of its preciousness; that voice, silent on earth, is still eloquent in heaven. The Great Intercessor still is there, "walking in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks;" loving to note all the wants and weaknesses, the necessities and distresses, of every Church, and every member of His Church. What He said of old to Peter, He says to every trembling believer--"I _have_ prayed, and _am_ praying for _thee_, that thy faith fail not!" "For _thee_!" We must not merge the interest which Jesus has in each separate member of His family, in His intercession for the Church in general. While He lets down His censer, and receives into it, for presentation on the golden altar, the prayers of the vast aggregate; while, as the true High Priest, He enters the holiest of all with the names of His spiritual Israel on His breastplate--carrying the burden of their hourly needs to the foot of the mercy-seat;--yet still, He pleads, as if the case of _each_ stood separate and alone! He remembers _thee_, dejected Mourner, as if there were no other heart but thine to be healed, and no other tears but thine to be dried. His own words, speaking of believers, not collectively but individually, are these--"I will confess _his_ name before my Father and his angels."[18] "_Who_ touched me?" was His interrogation once on earth, as His discriminating love was conscious of some special contact amid the press of the multitude,--"_Somebody_ hath touched me!" If we can say, in the language of Paul's appropriating faith, "He loved _me_, and gave Himself for _me_," we can add, He pleads for _me_, and bears _me_! He bears this very heart of _mine_, with all its weaknesses, and infirmities, and sins, before His Father's throne. He has engraven each stone of His Zion on the "palms of His hands," and "its walls are continually before Him!" How untiring, too, in His advocacy! What has the Christian so to complain of, as his own cold, unworthy prayers--mixed so with unbelief--soiled with worldliness--sometimes guiltily omitted or curtailed. Not the fervid ejaculations of those feelingly alive to their spiritual exigencies, but listless, unctionless, the hands hanging down, the knees feeble and trembling! But notwithstanding all, Jesus _pleads_! Still the Great Intercessor "waits to be gracious." He is at once Moses on the mountain, and Joshua on the battle-plain--fighting _with_ us in the one, praying _for_ us in the other. No Aarons or Hurs needed to sustain His sinking strength, for it is His sublime prerogative neither to "faint nor grow weary!" There is no loftier occupation for faith than to speed upwards to the throne and behold that wondrous Pleader, receiving at one moment, and at _every_ moment, the countless supplications and prayers which are coming up before Him from every corner of His Church. The Sinner just awoke from his moral slumber, and in the agonies of conviction, exclaiming, "What must I do to be saved?"--The Procrastinator sending up from the brink of despair the cry of importunate agony.--The Backslider wailing forth his bitter lamentation over guilty departures, and foul ingratitude, and injured love.--The Sick man feebly groaning forth, in undertones of suffering, his petition for succour.--The Dying, on the brink of eternity, invoking the presence and support of the alone arm which can be of any avail to them.--The Bereaved, in the fresh gush of their sorrow, calling upon Him who is the healer of the broken-hearted. But _all heard_! Every tear marked--every sigh registered--every suppliant succoured. Amalek may come threatening nothing but discomfiture; but that pleading Voice on the heavenly Hill is "greater far than all that can be against us!" He pleads for His elect in every phase of their spiritual history--He pleads for their inbringing into His fold--He pleads for their perseverance in grace--He pleads for their deliverance at once from the accusations and the power of Satan--He pleads for their growing sanctification;--and when the battle of life is over, He uplifts His last pleading voice for their complete glorification. The intercession of Jesus is the golden key which unlocks the gates of Paradise to the departing soul. At a saint's dying moments we are too often occupied with the lower _earthly_ scene to think of the _heavenly_. The tears of surrounding relatives cloud too often the more glorious revelations which faith discloses. But in the muffled stillness of that death-chamber, when each is holding his breath as the King of Terrors passes by--if we could listen to it, we should hear the "Prince who has power with God" thus uttering His final prayer, and on the rushing wings of ministering angels receiving an answer while He is yet speaking--"Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, that they may behold my glory!" Reader! exult more and more in this all-prevailing Advocate. See that ye approach the mercy-seat with no other trust but in His atoning work and meritorious righteousness. There was but _One_ solitary man of the whole human race who, of old, in the Jewish temple, was permitted to speak face to face with Jehovah. There is but ONE solitary Being in the vast universe of God who, in the heavenly sanctuary, can effectually plead in behalf of His Spiritual Israel. "Seeing, then, that we have a Great High Priest passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, ... let us come boldly to the throne of grace." If Jesus delights in asking, God delights in bestowing. Let us put our every want, and difficulty, and perplexity, in His hand, feeling the precious assurance, that all which is really good for us will be given, and all that is adverse will, in equal mercy, be withheld. There is no limitation set to our requests. The treasury of grace is flung wide open for every suppliant. "Verily, verily, I say unto you, whatsoever ye shall ask the Father _in my name_ He will give it you." Surely we may cease to wonder that the Great Apostle should have clung with such intense interest to this elevating theme--the Saviour's _intercession_;--that in his brief, but most comprehensive and beautiful creed,[19] he should have so exalted, as he does, its relative importance, compared with other cognate truths. "It is Christ that died, _yea rather_, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, _who also maketh intercession for us_." Climbing, step by step, in the upward ascent of Christian faith and hope, he seems only to "reach the height of his great argument" when he stands on "_the mountain of myrrh and the hill of frankincense_." _There_, gazing on the face of the great officiating Priest who fills all heaven with His fragrance, and feeling that against _that_ intercession the gates of hell can never prevail, he can utter the challenge to devils, and angels, and men, "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" XVI. THE OMNIPOTENT SUMMONS. The moment has now come for the voice of Omnipotence to give the mandate. The group have gathered around the sepulchral grotto--the Redeemer stands in meek majesty in front--the teardrop still glistening in His eye, and that eye directed heavenward! Martha and Mary are gazing on His countenance in dumb emotion, while the eager bystanders bend over the removed stone to see if the dead be still there. Yes! _there_ the captive lies--in uninvaded silence--attired still in the same solemn drapery. The Lord gives the word. "_Lazarus come forth!_" peals through the silent vault. The dull, cold ear seems to listen. The pulseless heart begins to beat--the rigid limbs to move--_Lazarus lives_! He rises girt in the swaddling-bands of the tomb, once more to walk in the light of the living. Where Scripture is silent, it is vain for us to picture the emotions of that moment, when the weeping sisters found the gloomy hours of disconsolate sorrow all at once rolled away. The cry of mingled wonder and gratitude rings through that lonely graveyard,--"This our brother was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found!" O most wondrous power--Death vanquished in his own territory! The sleeper has awoke a moral Samson, snapping the withs with which the King of Terrors had bound him. The star of Bethlehem shines, and the Valley of Achor becomes a door of hope. The all-devouring destroyer has to relinquish his prey. Was the joy of that moment confined to these two bosoms? Nay! The Church of Christ in every age may well love to linger around the grave of Lazarus. In _his_ resurrection there is to His true people a sure pledge and earnest of their own. It was the first sheaf reaped by the mower's sickle anticipatory of the great Harvest-home of the Final day "when all that are in their graves" shall hear the same voice and shall "come forth."[20] Solemn, surely, is the thought that that same portentous miracle performed on Lazarus is one day to be performed on _ourselves_. Wherever we repose--whether, as _he_ did, in the quiet churchyard of our native village, or in the midst of the city's crowded cemetery, or far away amid the alien and stranger in some foreign shore, our dust shall be startled by that omnipotent summons. How shall we hear it? Would it sound in our ears like the sweet tones of the silver trumpet of Jubilee? Would it be to gaze like Lazarus on the face of our best friend--to see _Jesus_ bending over us in looks of tenderness--to hear the living tones of that same voice, whose accents were last heard in the dark valley, whispering hopes full of immortality? True, we have not to wait for a Saviour's love and presence till then. The hour of _death_ is to the Christian the birthday of endless life. Guardian angels are hovering around his dying pillow ready to waft his spirit into Abraham's bosom. "The souls of believers do _immediately_ pass into glory." But the full plenitude of their joy and bliss is reserved for the time when the precious but redeemed dust, which for a season is left to moulder in the tomb, shall become instinct with life--"the corruptible put on incorruption, and the mortal immortality." The spirits of the just enter at _death_ on "the inheritance of the saints in light;" but at the _Resurrection_ they shall rise as separate orbs from the darkness and night of the grave, each to "shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father." However glorious the emancipation of the soul in the moment of dissolution, it is not until the plains and valleys of our globe shall stand thick with the living of buried generations--each glorified body the image of its Lord's--that the predicted anthem will be heard waking the echoes of the universe--"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" Then, with the organs of their resurrection-bodies ennobled, etherealised, purified from all the grossness of earth, they shall "behold the King in his beauty." "The King's daughter," all glorious without, "all glorious within"--"her clothing of wrought gold"--resplendent _without_ with the robes of righteousness--radiant _within_ with the beauties of holiness--shall be brought "with gladness and rejoicing," and "enter into the King's palace." This will form the full meridian of the saints' glory--the essence and climax of their new-born bliss--the full vision and fruition of a Saviour-God. "When He shall appear, ... we shall see Him as He is!" The first sight which will burst on the view of the Risen ones will be _Jesus_! _His_ hands will wreath the glorified brows, in presence of an assembled world, with the crown of life. From _His_ lips will proceed the gladdening welcome--"Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!" But this will not exhaust the elements of bliss in the case of the "perfected just" on the day of their final triumph. Though the presence of their adorable Redeemer would be enough, and more than enough, to fill their cup with happiness, there will be others also to welcome them, and to augment their joy. Lazarus' Lord was not _alone_ at the sepulchre's brink, at Bethany, ready to greet him back. Two loved sisters shared the joy of that gladsome hour. We are left to picture for ourselves the reunion, when, with hand linked in hand, they retraversed the road which had so recently echoed to the voice of mourning, and entered once more their home, radiant with a sunshine they had imagined to have passed away from it for ever! So will it be with the believer on the morning of the Resurrection. While his Lord will be _there_, waiting to welcome him, there will be others ready with their presence to enhance the bliss of that gladdening restoration. Those whose smiles were last seen in the death-chamber of earth, now standing--not as Martha and Mary, with the tear on their cheek and the furrow of deep sorrow on their brow, but robed and radiant in resurrection attire, glowing with the anticipations of an everlasting and indissoluble reunion! Can we anticipate, in the resurrection of Lazarus, our own happy history? Yes! _happier_ history, for it will not _then_ be to come forth once more, like _him_, into a weeping world, to renew our work and warfare, feeling that restoration to life is only but a brief reprieve, and that soon again the irrevocable sentence will and must overtake us! Not like _him_, going to a home still covered with the drapery of sorrow,--a few transient years and the mournful funeral tragedy to be repeated,--but to enter into the region of endless life--to pass from the dark chambers of corruption into the peace and glories of our Heavenly Father's joyous _Home_, and "so to be for ever with the Lord!" Sometimes it is with dying believers as with Lazarus. Their Lord, at the approach of death, _seems_ to be absent. He who gladdened their homes and their hearts in life, is, for some mysterious reason, away in the hour of dissolution; their spirits are depressed; their faith languishes; they are ready to say, "Where is now my God?" But as He returned to Bethany to awake His sleeping friend, so will it be with all his true people, on that great day when the arm of death shall be for ever broken. If _now_ united to Him by a living faith,--loved by Him as Lazarus was, and conscious, however imperfectly, of loving Him back in return,--we may go down to our graves, making Job's lofty creed and exclamation our own, "I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." One remark more. We have listened to the Omnipotent fiat,--"Lazarus, come forth!" We have seen the ear of death starting at the summons, and the buried captive goes free! Shall we follow the family group within the hallowed precincts of the Bethany dwelling? Shall fancy pour her strange and mysterious queries into the ear of him who has just come back from that land "from whose bourne no traveller returns?" He had been, in a far truer sense than Paul in an after year, in "_Paradise_." He must have heard unspeakable and unutterable words, "which it is not possible for a man to utter." He had looked upon the Sapphire Throne. He had ranged himself with the adoring ranks. He had strung his harp to the Eternal Anthem. When, lo! an angel--a "ministering one"--whispers in his ear to hush his song, and speed him back again for a little season to the valley below. Startling mandate! Can we suppose a remonstrance to so strange a summons? What! to be uncrowned and unglorified!--Just after a few sips of the heavenly fountain, to be hurried away back again to the valley of Baca!--to gather up once more the soiled earthly garments and the pilgrim staff, and from the pilgrim rest and the victor's palm to encounter the din and dust and scars of battle! What!--just after having wept his final tear, and fought the last and the most terrible foe, to have his eye again dimmed with sorrow, and to have the thought before him of breasting a second time the swellings of Jordan! "The Lord hath need of thee," is all the reply, It is enough! He asks no more! That glorious Redeemer had left a far brighter throne and heritage for _him_. Lazarus, come forth! sounds in his old world-home, whence his spirit had soared, and in his beloved Master's words, on a mightier embassy, he can say,--"Lo, I come! I delight to do thy will, O my God." Or do other questions involuntarily arise? What was the nature of his happiness while "absent from the body?" What the scenery of that bright abode? Had he mingled in the goodly fellowship of prophets? Had he conversed with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob? Was his spirit stationary--hovering with a brotherhood of spirits within some holy limit--or, was he permitted to travel far and near in errands of love and mercy? Had Bethany been revisited during that mysterious interval? Had he been the unseen witness of the tears and groans of his anguished sisters? But hush, too, these vain inquiries. We dare not give rein to imagination where Inspiration is silent. There is a designed mystery about the circumstantials of a future state. Its scenery and locality we know nothing of. It is revealed to us only in its _character_. We are permitted to approach its gates, and to read the surmounting inscription,--"Without _holiness_ no man shall see the Lord." Further we cannot go. Be it ours, like Lazarus, to attain a meetness for heaven, by becoming more and more like Lazarus' Redeemer! "_We shall be_ LIKE HIM," is the brief but comprehensive Bible description of that glorious world. Saviour-like _here_, we shall have heaven begun on earth, and lying down like Lazarus in the sweet sleep of death, when our Lord comes, on the great day-dawn of immortality, we shall be satisfied when we awake in _His likeness_! "He that was dead rose up and spoke--He spoke! Was it of that majestic world unknown? Those words which first the bier's dread silence broke-- Came they with revelation in each tone? Were the far cities of the nations gone, The solemn halls of consciousness or sleep, For man uncurtain'd by that spirit lone, Back from the portal summon'd o'er the deep? Be hush'd, my soul! the veil of darkness lay Still drawn; therefore thy Lord called back the voice departed, To spread His truth, to comfort the weak-hearted; Not to reveal the mysteries of its way. Oh! I take that lesson home in silent faith; Put on submissive strength to _meet_, not _question_ DEATH." XVII. THE BOX OF OINTMENT. Once more we visit in thought a peaceful and happy home-scene in the same Bethany household. The severed links in that broken chain are again united. How often in a time of severe bereavement, when some "light of the dwelling" has suddenly been extinguished, does the imagination fondly dwell on the possibility of the wild dream of separation passing away; of the vacant seat being refilled by its owner the "loved and lost one" again restored. Alas! in all such cases, it is but a feverish vision, destined to know no fulfilment. Here, however, it was indeed a happy reality. "Lazarus is dead!" was the bitter dirge a few brief weeks ago; but now, "Lazarus lives." His silent voice is heard again--his dull eye is lighted again--the temporary pang of separation is only remembered to enhance the joy of so gladsome a reunion. It was on a Sabbath evening, the last Sabbath but one of the waning Jewish dispensation, when Spring's loveliness was carpeting the Mount of Olives and clothing with fresh verdure the groves around Bethany, that our blessed Redeemer was seen approaching the haunt of former friendship. He had for two months taken shelter from the malice of the Sanhedrim in the little town of Ephraim and the mountainous region of Perea, on the other side of the Jordan. But the Passover solemnity being at hand, and his own hour having come, he had "set His face steadfastly to go to Jerusalem." It is more than probable that for several days He had been travelling in the company of other pilgrims coming from Galilee on their way to the feast. He seems, however, to have left the festival caravan at Jericho, lingering behind with his own disciples in order to secure a private approach to the city of solemnities. They were completing their journey on the Sabbath referred to just as the sun was sinking behind the brow of Olivet, and, turning aside from the highway, they spent the night in their old Bethany retreat. Befitting tranquil scene for His closing Sabbath--a happy preparation for a season of trial and conflict! It is well worthy of observation, how, as His saddest hours were drawing near--the shadow of His cross projected on His path--Bethany becomes more and more endeared to Him. Night after night, during this memorable week, we shall find Him resorting to its cherished seclusion. As the storm is fast gathering, the vessel seeks for shelter in its best loved haven.[21] Imagine the joy with which the announcement would be received by the inmates--"Our Lord and Redeemer is once more approaching." Imagine how the great Conqueror of death would be welcomed into the home consecrated alike by His love and power. Now every tear dried! The weeping that endured for the long night of bereavement all forgotten. Ah! if Jesus were loved before in that happy home, how, we may well imagine, would He be adored and reverenced now. What a new claim had He established on their deepest affection and regard. Feelingly alive to all they owed Him, the restored brother and rejoicing sisters with hearts overflowing with gratitude could say, in the words of their Psalmist King--"Thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness, to the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever!" But does the love and affection of that household find expression in nothing but words? Supper is being made ready. While Martha, with her wonted activity, is busied preparing the evening meal--doing her best to provide for the refreshment of the travellers--the gentle spirit of Mary (even if her name had not been given, we should have known it was she) prompts her to a more significant proof of the depth of her gratitude. Some fragrant ointment of spikenard--contained, as we gather from the other Evangelists, in a box of Alabaster--had been procured by her at great cost;[22] either obtained for this anticipated meeting with her Lord, or it may in some way have fallen into her possession, and been sacredly kept among her treasured gifts till some befitting occasion occurred for its employment. Has not that occasion occurred now? On whom can her grateful heart more joyously bestow this garnered treasure than on her beloved Lord. With her own hands she pours it on His feet. Stooping down, she wipes them, in further token of her devotion, with her loosened tresses, till the whole apartment was filled with the sweet perfume. And what was it that constituted the value of this tribute--the beauty and expressiveness of the action? _She gave her Lord the best thing she had!_ She felt that to Him, in addition to what He had done for her own soul, she owed the most valued life in the world. "Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits; But, he was dead, and there he sits, And He that brought him back is there. "Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face And rests upon the Life indeed. "All subtle thought, all curious fears, Borne down by gladness so complete; She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears."[23] What a lesson for us! Are we willing to give our Lord the best of what we have--to consecrate time, talents, strength, life, to His service? Not as many, to give Him the mere dregs and sweepings of existence--the wrecks of a "worn and withered love"--but, like Mary, anxious to take every opportunity and occasion of testifying the depth of obligation under which we are laid to Him? Let us not say--"My sphere is lowly, my means are limited, my best offerings would be inadequate." Such, doubtless, were the very feelings of that humble, diffident, yet loving one, as she crept noiselessly to where her pilgrim-Lord reclined, and lavished on His weary limbs the costliest treasure she possessed. Hundreds of more imposing deeds--more princely and munificent offerings--may have been left unrecorded by the Evangelists; but "wherever this Gospel shall be preached, in the whole world, there shall also this that this woman hath done be told for a memorial of her."[24] Would that love to "that same Jesus" were with all of us more paramount than it is! "Lovest thou Me _more than these_" is His own searching test and requirement. Is it so?--Do we love Him more than self or sin--more than friends or home--more than any earthly object or earthly good; and are we willing, if need be, to make a sacrifice for His glory and for the honour of His cause? Happy for us if it be so. There will be a joy in the very consciousness of making the effort, feeble and unworthy as it may be, for His sake, and in acknowledgment of the great love wherewith He hath loved us. "Thrice blest, whose lives are faithful prayers, Whose loves in higher Love endure; Whose souls possess themselves so pure, Or is there blessedness like theirs?" Let it be our privilege and delight to give Him our pound of spikenard, whatever that may be; and if we can give no other, let us offer the fragrant perfume of holy hearts and holy lives. _That_ religion is always best which reveals itself by its effects--by kindness, gentleness, amiability, unselfishness, flowing from a principle of grateful love to Him who, though unseen, has been to us as to the family of Bethany--Friend, and Help, and Guide, and Portion. Mary's honour was great to anoint her Lord, but the lowliest and humblest of His people may do the same. We may have no aromatic offering, neither "gold, nor frankincense, nor myrrh;" but My son, My daughter, "give Me thine heart." "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." Nor ought we to forget our blessed Lord's reply, when Judas objected to the waste of the ointment--"Let her alone; ... the poor ye have always with you, _but Me ye have not always_." Let us seek to make the most of our Lord's visits while we have Him. The visits of Jesus to Bethany were soon to be over;--so also with us. He will not always linger on our thresholds, if our souls refuse to receive Him, or yield Him nothing but coldness and ingratitude in return for His love. "Me ye have not always." Soon may sickness incapacitate for active service! Soon may opportunities for doing good be gone, and gone for ever! Soon may death overtake us, and the alabaster box be left behind, unused and unemployed; the dying regret on our lips--"Oh that I had done more while I lived for this most precious Saviour! but opportunities of testifying my gratitude to Him are now gone beyond recall." Good deeds performed on Gospel motives, though unknown and unvalued by the world, will not go unrecompensed or unowned by Him who values the cup of cold water given in His name. "God is not unmindful to forget our work of faith and our labour of love." The Lamb's Book of Life registers every such deed of lowly piety; and on the Great Day of account "it shall be produced to our eternal honour, and rewarded with a reward of grace; though not of debt." Let us bear in mind, also, that every holy service of unostentatious love exercises a hallowed influence on those around us. We may not be conscious of such. But, if Christians indeed, the sphere in which we move will, like the Bethany home, be redolent with the ointment perfume. A holy life is a silent witness for Jesus--an incense-cloud from the heart-altar, breathing odours and sweet spices, of which the world cannot fail to take knowledge. Yes! were we to seek for a beautiful allegorical representation of pure and undefiled Religion, we would find it in this loveliest of inspired pictures. Mary--all silent and submissive at the feet of her Lord--only permitting her love to be disclosed by the holy perfume which, unknown to herself, revealed to others the reality and intensity of her love. True religion is quiet, unobtrusive, seeking the shade--its ever-befitting attitude at the feet of Jesus, looking to Him as all in all. Yet, though retiring, it _must_ and _will_ manifest its living and influential power. The heart broken at the cross, like Mary's broken box, begins from that hour to give forth the hallowed perfume of faith, and love, and obedience, and every kindred grace. Not a fitful and vacillating love and service, but _ever_ emitting the fragrance of holiness, till the little world of home influence around us is filled with the odour of the ointment. "I ask Thee for the daily strength, To none that ask denied; And a mind to blend with outward life, While keeping by Thy side; Content to fill a little space If Thou be glorified. "And if some things I do not ask In my cup of blessings be, I would have my spirit fill'd the more With grateful love to Thee-- More careful not to serve Thee _much_, But to please Thee perfectly." Such is a brief sketch of this beautiful domestic scene, and its main practical lessons,--a green spot on which the eye will ever love to repose, among the "Memories of Bethany." It is unnecessary to advert to the controverted question, as to whether the description of the anointing, which took place in the house of Simon the leper (as recorded in Matt. xxvi. 6-14, and Mark xiv. 3), and where the alabaster box is spoken of, be identical with this passage, or whether they refer to two distinct occasions. The question is of no great importance in itself--the former view (that they are descriptions of one and the same event) seems the more probable. It surely gives a deep intensity to the interest of the narrative to imagine the Leper and the raised dead man, seated at the same table together with their common Deliverer, glorifying their Saviour-God, with bodies and spirits they felt now to be doubly _His_! Simon, it is evident, must have been cured of his disease, else, by the Jewish law, he dared not have been associating with his friends at a common meal. How was he cured? How else may we suppose was that inveterate malady subdued but by the omnipotent word of _Him_, who had only to say,--"I will, be thou made whole!" May we not regard him as a standing miracle of Jesus' power over the diseased body, as Lazarus was the living trophy of His power over death and the grave. The one could testify,--"This poor man cried, and the Lord saved him, and delivered him out of all his troubles." The other,--"Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul must now have dwelt in silence!" In order to explain the circumstance of this family meeting being in the house of _Simon_, there have not been wanting advocates for the supposition, that the restored leper may have been none other than the _parent_ of the household.[25] It is not for us to hazard conjectures, where Scripture has thrown no light. Even when sanctioned by venerated names, the most plausible hypothesis should be received with that caution requisite in dealing with what is supported exclusively by traditional authority. Were, however, such a view as we have indicated correct (which is just possible, and there is nothing in the face of the narrative to render it _improbable_), it certainly would impart a new and fresh beauty to the picture of this Feast of gratitude. Well might the _parent's_ heart swell within him with more than ordinary emotions! _Himself_ plucked a victim from the most loathsome of diseases! He would think, with tearful eye, of the dark dungeon of his banishment--the lazar-house, where he had been gloomily excluded from all fellowship with human sympathies and loving hearts. His own children condemned by a severe but righteous necessity to shun his presence--or when within sound of human footfall or human voice, compelled to make known his presence with the doleful utterance,--"Unclean! Unclean!" He would think of that wondrous moment in his history, when, shunned by _man_, the GOD-MAN drew near to him, and with one glance of His love, and one utterance of His power, He bade the foul disease for ever away! Nor was this all that Simon (if he _were_, indeed, the father of the family) must have felt. What must have been those emotions, too deep for utterance, as he gazed on the son of his affections, seated once more by his side! A short time ago, Lazarus had been laid silent in the adjoining sepulchre--Death had laid his cold hand upon him--the pride of his home had been swept down. But the same Almighty friend who had caused his own leprosy to depart, had given him back his lost one. They were rejoicing together in the presence of Him to whom they owed life and all its blessings. Oh, well might "the voice of rejoicing and salvation be heard in the tabernacles of these righteous!" Well might the head of the household dictate to Mary to "bring forth their best" and bestow it on their Deliverer--the costliest gift which the dwelling contained--the prized and valued box of alabaster, and pour its contents on His feet! We can imagine the burden, if not the words, of their joint anthem of praise,--"Bless the Lord, O our souls, and forget not all his benefits, who forgiveth all our iniquities, who healeth all our diseases, who redeemeth our lives from destruction, and crowneth us with loving-kindness and with tender mercy." But be all this as it may, that same great Physician of Souls still waits to be gracious. He healeth ALL our diseases. Young and old, rich and poor, every type of spiritual malady has in Him and His salvation its corresponding cure. The same Lord is rich to all that call upon Him. The ardent Martha, the contemplative Mary, the aged Simon, Lazarus the loving and beloved--He has proved friend, and help, and Saviour to _all_; and in their several ways they seek to give expression to the depth of their gratitude. Happy home! may there be many such amongst us! Fathers, brothers, sisters, "loving one another with a pure heart fervently," and loving Jesus more than all--and themselves in Jesus! Seeking to have _Him_ as the ever-welcomed guest of their dwelling--feeling that all they _have_, and all they _are_, for time or for eternity, they owe to _Him_ who has "brought them out of the horrible pit, and out of the miry clay, and set their feet upon a rock, and established their goings, and put a new song in their mouth, even praise unto our God!" Yes! having the Lord, we have what is better and more enduring than the best of earthly ties and earthly homes. This must have been impressed with peculiar force on aged John, as in distant Ephesus he penned the memories of this evening feast. Where were _then_ all its guests?--the recovered leper, the risen Lazarus, the devout sisters, the ardent disciples--all _gone_!--none but himself remained to tell the touching story. _Nay_, _not_ all!--ONE remained amid this wreck of buried friendship--the adorable Being who had given to that Bethany feast all its imperishable interest was still within him and about him. The rocky shores of Patmos, and the groves around Ephesus, echoed to the well-remembered tones of the same voice of love. His _best Friend_ was still left to take loneliness from his solitude. He writes as if he were still reclining on that sacred bosom--"Truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ!" Reader! take "that same Jesus" now as your Friend--receive Him as the guest of your soul; and when other guests and other friendships are vanished and gone, and you may be left like John, as the alone survivor of a buried generation;--"alone! you will yet be _not_ alone!"--lifting your furrowed brow and tearful eye to Heaven, you may exclaim, "Who shall separate me from the love of Christ?" XVIII. PALM BRANCHES. We have just been contemplating a beautiful episode in the Bethany Memories--a gleam amid gathering clouds. _Martha_, _Mary_, and _Lazarus_! With what happy hearts did they hail the presence of their Lord on the evening of that Jewish Sabbath! Little did they anticipate the events impending. Little did they dream that their Almighty Deliverer and Friend would that day week be sleeping in His own grave! These were indeed eventful hours on which they had now entered. The stir through Palestine of the thousands congregating in the earthly Jerusalem to the great Paschal Feast, was but a feeble type of the profound interest with which myriad angel-worshippers in the Jerusalem above were gathering to witness the offering of the True Paschal Sacrifice, "the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world." On the morning after the supper at Bethany (probably that of our Sabbath), the Saviour rose from His couch of needed rest to approach Jerusalem. The reserve hitherto maintained as to His kingly power is now to be set aside. "The hour is come in which the Son of man is to be glorified." BETHANY is one of the few places associated with recollections of the Redeemer's royalty. The "despised and rejected" is, for once, the honoured and exalted. It is a glimpse of the crown before He ascends the cross; a foreshadowing of that blessed period when He shall be hailed by the loud acclaim of earth's nations--the Gentile hosannah mingling with the Hebrew hallelujah in welcoming Him to the throne of universal empire. Multitudes of the assembled pilgrims in the city, who had heard of His arrival, crowded out to Bethany to witness the mysterious Being, whose deeds of mercy and miracle had now become the universal theme of converse. His mightiest prodigy of power in the resurrection of Lazarus had invested His name and person with surpassing interest. We need not wonder, therefore, that "the town of Mary and her sister Martha" should attract many worshippers from Jerusalem, to behold with their own eyes at once the restored villager and his Divine Deliverer! In fulfilment of Zechariah's prophecy, the meek and lowly Nazarene, seated on no caparisoned war-horse, but on an unbroken colt, and surrounded with the multitude, sets forth on His journey.[26] "The village and the desert were then all alive (as they still are once every year at the Greek Easter) with the crowd of Paschal pilgrims moving to and fro between Bethany and Jerusalem. ... Three pathways lead, and probably always led, from Bethany; ... one a long circuit over the northern shoulder of Mount Olivet, down the valley which parts it from Scopus; another, a steep footpath over the summit; the third, the natural continuation of the road by which mounted travellers always approach the city from Jericho, over the southern shoulder between the summit which contains the Tombs of the Prophets, and that called the 'Mount of Offence.' There can be no doubt that this last is the road of the entry of Christ, not only because, as just stated, it is, and must always have been, the usual approach for horsemen and for large caravans such as then were concerned, but also because this is the only one of the three approaches which meets the requirements of the narrative which follows. ... This is the only one approach which is really grand. It is the approach by which the army of Pompey advanced, the first European army that ever confronted it. Probably the first impression of every one coming from the north-west and the south may be summed up in the simple expression used by one of the modern travellers--'I am strangely affected, but greatly disappointed!' But no human being could be disappointed who first saw Jerusalem from the east. The beauty consists in this, that you then burst at once on the two great ravines which cut the city off from the surrounding table-land. * * * * * "Two vast streams of people met on that day. The one poured out from the city, and as they came through the gardens whose clusters of palms rose on the south-eastern corner of Olivet, they cut down the long branches, as was their wont at the Feast of Tabernacles, and moved upwards towards Bethany with loud shouts of welcome. From Bethany streamed forth the crowds who had assembled there on the previous night, and who came testifying to the great event at the sepulchre of Lazarus. The road soon loses sight of Bethany. It is now a rough, but still broad and well-defined mountain track, winding over rock and loose stones,--a steep declivity below on the left; the sloping shoulder of Olivet above on the right. Along this road the multitudes threw down the branches which they cut as they went along, or spread out a rude matting formed of the palm branches they had already cut as they came out. The larger portion (those perhaps who escorted Him from Bethany) unwrapped their loose cloaks from their shoulders, and stretched them along the rough path, to form a momentary carpet as he approached. The two streams met midway. Half of the vast mass, turning round, preceded; the other half followed. Gradually the long procession swept up and over the ridge, where first begins the 'descent of the Mount of Olives,' towards Jerusalem. At this point the first view is caught of the south-eastern corner of the city. The Temple and the more northern portions are hid by the slope of Olivet on the right; what is seen is only Mount Zion, covered with houses to its base, surmounted by the castle of Herod on the supposed site of the palace of David, from which that portion of Jerusalem, emphatically 'The City of David,' derived its name. It was at this precise point, as he drew near, at the descent of the Mount of Olives, (may it not have been from the sight thus opening upon them?) that the shout of triumph burst forth from the multitude--'Hosannah to the Son of David! Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the kingdom that cometh of our father David. Hosannah--Peace--Glory in the highest!' There was a pause as the shout rang through the long defile; and as the Pharisees who stood by in the crowd complained, He pointed to the 'stones,' which, strewn beneath their feet, would immediately 'cry out' if 'these were to hold their peace.' Again the procession advanced. The road descends a slight declivity, and the glimpse of the city is again withdrawn behind the intervening ridge of Olivet. A few moments, and the path mounts again, it climbs a rugged ascent, it reaches a ledge of smooth rock, and in an instant the whole city bursts into view. As now the dome of the Mosque El Aksa rises like a ghost from the earth before the traveller stands on the ledge, so then must have risen the Temple Tower; as now the vast enclosure of the Mussulman Sanctuary, so then must have spread the Temple Courts; as now the gray town on its broken hills, so then the magnificent city with its background (long since vanished away) of gardens and suburbs on the western plateau behind. Immediately below was the valley of the Kedron, here seen in its greatest depth, as it joins the valley of Hinnom; and thus giving full effect to the great peculiarity of Jerusalem, seen only on its eastern side--its situation as of a city rising out of a deep abyss. It is hardly possible to doubt that this rise and turn of the road (this rocky ledge) was the exact point where the multitude paused again, and 'He, when He beheld the city, wept over it.' ... Here the Lord stayed His onward march, and here His eyes beheld what is still the most impressive view which the neighbourhood of Jerusalem furnishes--and the tears rushed forth at the sight."[27] Without dwelling longer on this splendid ovation, we may only further remark, that had the Redeemer's mission been on (the infidel theory) a successful imposture, what an opportunity now to have availed Himself of that outburst of popular fervour, and to have marched straight to take possession of the hereditary throne of David. The populace were evidently more than ready to second any such attempt; the Sanhedrim and Jewish authorities must have trembled for the result. The hosannas, borne on the breeze from the slope of Olivet, could not fail to sound ominous of coming disaster. So incontrovertible indeed had been the proof of Lazarus' resurrection, that only the most blinded bigotry could refuse to own in that marvellous act the divinity of Jesus. In addition, too, to this last crowning demonstration of omnipotence, there were hundreds, we may well believe, in that procession, who, in different parts of Palestine, had listened to His gracious words, and witnessed His gracious deeds. What _other_, what _better_ Messiah could they wish than this--combining the might of Godhead with the kindness and tenderness of a human philanthropist and friend? Is He to accept of the crown? Nay, by a lofty abnegation of self, and all selfish considerations, He illustrates the announcement made by Him, a few hours later, in Pilate's judgment-hall, as to the leading characteristic of that empire He is to set up in the hearts of men--"My kingdom is not of this world." He was, indeed, one day to be hailed alike King of Zion and King of Nations, but a bitter baptism of blood and suffering had meanwhile to be undergone. No glitter of earthly honour--no carnal dreams of earthly glory--would divert Him from His divine and gracious undertaking. He would save _others_--Himself He _would_ not save. Let us pause for a moment, and ponder that significant chorus of praise which on Olivet arose to the Lord of Glory. How interesting to think of the vast and varied multitude gathered around the Conqueror! Many, doubtless, assembled from curiosity, who had never seen Him before, and had only heard of His fame in their distant homes; others, from feelings of personal love and gratitude, were blending their voices in the shout of welcome. Think, it may be, of Bartimeus, now gazing with his unsealed eyes on his Divine Deliverer. Think of Mary Magdalene, her heart gushing at the remembrance of her own sin and shame, and her adorable Redeemer's pardoning and forgiving mercy! Nicodemus, perhaps, no longer seeking to repair by stealth, under the shadow of night, to hold a confidential meeting; but in the full blaze of day, and before assembled Israel, boldly recognising in "the Teacher sent from God" the promised Messiah, the Prince of Peace, the Redeemer of Mankind. Shall we think of Lazarus too, fearless of his own personal safety, venturing to follow his guest with tearful eye, the multitude gazing with wonder on this living trophy of death? We may think of the very children, as He entered the temple, uplifting their infant voices in the general welcome--pledges of the myriad little ones who, in future ages, were to have an interest in "the kingdom of God." "Meanwhile He paces through th' adoring crowd, Calm as the march of some majestic cloud That o'er wild scenes of ocean war Holds its still course in Heaven afar. * * * * * "Yet in the throng of selfish hearts untrue, His sad eye rests upon His faithful few; Children and child-like souls are there, Blind Bartimeus' humble prayer; And Lazarus, waken'd from his four days' sleep, Enduring life again that Passover to keep."[28] May not Olivet be regarded on this occasion as a type of the Church triumphant in Heaven--Jesus enthroned in the affections of a mighty multitude which no man can number--old and young, great and small, rich and poor--casting their palms of victory at His feet, and ascribing to Him all the glory of their great salvation? Let _us_ ask, have _we_ received Jesus as _our_ King?--have _our_ palm branches been cast at His feet? Feeling that He is alike willing and mighty to save, have we joined in the rapture of praise--"Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord to save us?" Have our hearts become living temples thrown open for His reception? Is this the motto and superscription on their portals--"This is the gate of the Lord, into which THE RIGHTEOUS ONE shall enter!" Jesus refused and disowned none of these gratulations--He spurned no voice in all that motley Jerusalem throng. There were endless diversities and phases, doubtless, of human character and history there. The once proud formalist, the once greedy extortioner, the hated tax-gatherer, the rich nobleman, the child of penury, the Roman officer, the peasant or fisherman of Galilee, the humbled publican, the woman from the city, the reclaimed victim of misery and guilt! All were there as types and samples of that diversified multitude who, in every age, were to own Him as King, and receive His gracious benediction. We have spoken of this incident as a glimpse of glory before His sufferings. Alas! it _was_ but a glimpse. What a picture of the fickleness and treachery of the heart!--That excited populace who are now shouting their hosannahs, are ere long to be raising the cry, "Crucify Him, crucify Him!" Four days hence we shall find the palm branches lying withered on the Bethany road, and the blazing torches of an assassin-band nigh the very spot where He is now passing with an applauding retinue! "Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils." It does not belong to our narrative to record the remaining transactions of this day in Jerusalem. The shades of evening find the Saviour once more repairing to Bethany. The evangelist _Mark_, in the course of his narrative, simply but touchingly says:--"And Jesus entered into Jerusalem, and into the temple, and when He had looked round about upon all things" (the mitred priests, the bleeding victims, the costly buildings), "and now the eventide was come, he went out unto BETHANY with the twelve." (Mark xi. 11.) As He returned to the sweet calm of that quiet home, if He could not fail to think of the hours of darkness and agony before Him, could He reap no joy or consolation in the thought, that that very day week the redemption of His people was to be consummated--the glory that surrounded the grave and resurrection of Lazarus was to be eclipsed by the marvels of His own! XIX. THE FIG-TREE. The hosannahs of yesterday had died away--the memorials of its triumph were strewed on the road across Olivet--as, early on the Monday morning, while the sun was just appearing above the Mountains of Moab, the Divine Redeemer left His Bethany retreat, and was seen retraversing the well-worn path to Jerusalem. Here and there, in the "olive-bordered way," were Fig plantations. The adjoining village of Bethphage derived its name from the Green Fig.[29] Indeed, "fig-trees may still be seen overhanging the ordinary road from Jerusalem to Bethany, growing out of the rocks of the solid mountain, which, by the prayer of faith, might 'be removed and cast into the (distant Mediterranean) Sea.'"[30] An incident connected with one of these is too intimately identified with the Redeemer's last journeys to and from the home of His friend to admit of exclusion from our "Bethany Memories." These memories have hitherto, for the most part, in connexion at least with our blessed Lord, been soothing, hallowed, encouraging. Here the "still small voice" is for once broken with sterner accents. In contrast with the bright background of other sunny pictures, we have, standing out in bold relief, a withered, sapless stem, impressively proclaiming, in unwonted utterances of wrath and rebuke, that the same hand is "strong to smite," which we have witnessed so lately in the case of Lazarus was "strong to save." The eye of Jesus, as he traversed the rocky path with His disciples, rested on a _Fig-tree_. (Mark xi. 12, 13.) It seems not to have been growing alone, but formed part of a group or plantation on one of the slopes or ravines of Olivet. Its appearance could not fail to challenge attention. It was now only the Passover season (the month of April); summer--the time for ripe figs--was yet distant; and as it is one of the peculiarities of the tree that the fruit appears _before_ the leaves, a considerable period, in the ordinary course of nature, ought to have elapsed before the foliage was matured. Jesus Himself, it will be remembered, on another occasion, spake of the putting forth of the fig-tree leaves as an indication that "_summer_ was nigh." It must have been, therefore, a strange and unusual sight which met the eye of the travellers as they gazed, in early spring, on one of these trees with its full complement of leaves--clad in full summer luxuriance. While the others in the plantation, true to the order of development, were yet bare and leafless, or else the buds of spring only flushing them with verdure, the broad leaves of this precocious (and we may think at first _favoured_) plant--the pioneer of surrounding vegetation--rustled in the morning breeze, and invited the passers-by to turn aside, examine the marvel, and pluck the fruit. We may confidently infer that Jesus, as the Omniscient Lord of the inanimate creation, knew well that fruit there was none under that pretentious foliage. We dare not suppose that He went expecting to find Figs; far less, that in a moment of disappointed hope, He ventured on a capricious exercise of His power, uttered a hasty malediction, and condemned the insensate boughs to barrenness and decay. The first cursory reading of the narrative may suggest some such unworthy impression. But we dismiss it at once, as strangely at variance with the Saviour's character, and strangely unlike His wonted actings. We feel assured that He literally, as well as figuratively, would not "break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax." He came, in all respects, "not to destroy, but to save." Some deep inner meaning, not apparent on the surface of the inspired story, must have led Him for the moment to regard a tree in the light of a responsible agent, and to address it in words of unusual severity. What, then, is the explanation? Our Lord on this occasion revives the old typical or picture-teaching with which the Hebrews were to that hour so familiar. He, as the greatest of prophets, adopts the significant and impressive method, not unfrequently employed by the Seers of Israel, who, in uttering startling and solemn truths, did so by means of _symbolic actions_. As Jeremiah of old dashed the potter's vessel down the Valley of Hinnom, to indicate the judgments that were about to befall Jerusalem; or, at another time, wore around his own neck a wooden yoke, to intimate their approaching bondage under the King of Babylon; or, as Isaiah "walked naked and barefoot three years for a sign and wonder upon Egypt and Ethiopia," so did our Lord now invest a tree in dumb nature with a prophet's warning voice, and make its stripped and blighted boughs eloquent of a nation's doom! On the height of their own Olivet, looking down, as it were, on Jerusalem, that fig-tree becomes a stern messenger of woe and vengeance to the whole house of Judah. Often before had he warned by His _words_ and _tears_; now He is to make an insignificant object in the outer world take up His prophecy, and testify to the degenerate people at once the cause, the suddenness, and the certainty of their destruction! Let us join, then, the Master and His disciples, as they stand on the crest above Bethany, and, gazing on that fruitless leaf-bearer, "hear this parable of the fig-tree."[31] Jesus, on approaching it (it seemed to be at a little distance from their path), and finding abundance of leaves, but no fruit thereon, condemns it to perpetual sterility and barrenness. A difficulty here occurs on the threshold of the narrative. If, as we have noted, and as St Mark tells us, "the time of figs was _not yet_"--why this seeming impatience--why this harsh sentence for not having what, _if found_, would have been unseasonable, untimely, abnormal? In this apparent difficulty lies the main truth and zest of the parable. The doom of sterility, be it carefully noted, was uttered by Jesus, not so much because of the _absence of fruit_, but because the tree, by its premature display of leaves, challenged expectations which a closer inspection did not realise. "It was punished," says an able writer, "not for being without fruit, but for proclaiming, by the voice of those leaves, that it had such. Not for being barren, but for being false."[32] Graphic picture of boastful and vaunting Israel! This conspicuous tree, nigh one of the frequented paths of Olivet, was no inappropriate type, surely, of that nation which stood illustrious amid the world's kingdoms--exalted to heaven with unexampled privileges which it abused--proudly claiming a righteousness which, when weighed in the balances, was found utterly wanting. It mattered not that the heathen nations were as guilty, vile, and corrupt as the chosen people. Fig-trees were they, too--naked stems, fruitless and leafless; but then they made no boastful pretensions. The Jews had, in the face of the world, been glorying in a righteousness which, in reality, was only like the foliage of that tree by which the Lord and His disciples now stood--mocking the expectations of its owner by mere outward semblance and an utter absence of fruit. The very day preceding, these mournful deficiencies had brought tears to the Saviour's eyes--stirred the depths of His yearning heart in the very hour of His triumph. He had looked down from the height of the mountain on the gilded splendours of the Temple Courts beneath; but, alas! He saw that sanctimonious hypocrisy and self-righteous formalism had sheltered themselves behind clouds of incense. Mammon, covetousness, oppression, fraud, were rising like strange fire from these defiled altars! He turns the tears of yesterday into an expressive and enduring parable to-day! He approaches a luxuriant Fig-tree, boasting great things among its fellows, and thus through _it_ He addresses a doomed city and devoted land,--"O House of Israel," He seems to say, "I have come up for the last time to your highest and most ancient festival. You stand forth in the midst of the nations of the earth clothed in rich verdure. You retain intact the splendour of your ancestral ritual. You boast of your rigid adherence to its outward ceremonial, the punctilious observance of your fasts and feasts. But I have found that it is but 'a name to live.' You sinfully ignore 'the weightier matters of the law, judgment, justice, and mercy!' You call out as you tread that gorgeous fane--'The Temple of the Lord! The Temple of the Lord! The Temple of the Lord are we!' You forget that your hearts are the Temple I prize! Holiness, the most acceptable incense--love to God, and love to man, the most pleasing sacrifice. All that dead and torpid formalism--that mockery of outward foliage--is to me nothing. 'Your new moons and Sabbaths--the calling of assemblies--I cannot away with; it is iniquity even the solemn meeting.' These are only as the whitewash of your sepulchres to hide the loathsomeness within--'the rottenness and dead men's bones!' If you had made no impious pretensions, I would not, peradventure, have dealt so sternly with you. If like the other trees you had confessed your nakedness, and stood with your leafless stems, waiting for summer suns, and dews, and rains, to fructify you, and to bring your fruit to perfection--all well; but you have sought to mock and deceive me by your falsity, and thus precipitated the doom of the cumberer. 'Henceforth, let no man eat fruit of thee for ever!'" The unconscious Tree listened! One night only passed, and the morrow found it with drooping leaf and blighted stem! On yonder mountain crest it stood, as a sign between heaven and earth of impending judgment. Eighteen hundred years have taken up its parable--fearfully authenticated the averments of the August Speaker! Israel, a bared, leafless, sapless trunk, testifies to this hour, before the nations, that "heaven and earth may pass away, but God's words will not pass away!"[33] But does the parable stop here? Was there no voice but for the ear of Judah and Jerusalem? Have _we_ no part in these solemn monitions? Ah! be assured, as Jesus dealt with nations so will He deal with individuals. This parable-miracle solemnly speaks to all who have only a name to live--the foliage of outward profession--but who are destitute of the "fruits of righteousness." It is not neglecters or despisers--the careless--the infidel--the scorner--our Lord here addresses. He deals with such elsewhere. It is rather vaunting hypocrites--wearing the garb of religion--the trappings and dress of outward devotion to conceal their inward pollution; like the ivy, screening from view by garlands of fantastic beauty--wreaths of loveliest green--the mouldering trunk or loathsome ruin! We may well believe none are more obnoxious to a holy Saviour than _such_. He (Incarnate TRUTH) would rather have the naked stem than the counterfeit blossom. He would rather have no gold than be mocked with tinsel and base alloy! "I _would_," says He, speaking to one of His Churches at a later time, "I would thou wert cold or hot." He would rather a man openly avowed his enmity than that he should come in disguise, with a traitor-heart, among the ranks of His people. Oh that all such ungodly boasters and pretenders would bear in mind, that not only do they inflict harm on themselves, but they do infinite damage to the Church of God. They lower the standard of godliness. Like that worthless Fig-tree, they help to hide out from others the glorious sunlight. They intercept from others the refreshing dews of heaven. They absorb in their leaves the rains as they fall. Many a tuft of tiny moss, many a lowly plant at their feet, is pining and withering, which, _but_ for _them_, would be bathing its tints in sunshine, and filling the air with balmy fragrance! Solemn, then, ought to be the question with every one of us--every Fig-tree in the Lord's plantation--How does it stand with _me_? am I _now_ bringing forth fruit to God? for remember what we are NOW, will fix what we _shall_ be when our Lord shall come on the Great Day of Scrutiny! We are forming _now_ for Eternity; settling down and consolidating in the great mould which ultimately will determine our everlasting state; fruitless _now_, we shall be fruitless _then_. The _principle_ in the future retribution is thus laid down--"He that is unjust, let him be unjust still; and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still." The demand and scrutiny of Jesus will on that day be, not what is the number of your leaves, the height of your stem, the extent of your branches? not whether you have grown on the wayside or in the forest, been nurtured in solitude or in a crowd, on the mountain-height or in the lowly valley: all will resolve itself into the _one question_--Where is your _fruit_? What evidence is there that you have profited by My admonitions, listened to My voice, and accepted My salvation? Where are your proofs of love to Myself, delight in My service, obedience to My will? Where are the sins you have crucified, the sacrifices you have made, the new principles you have nurtured, the amiability and love and kindness and generosity and unselfishness which have supplanted and superseded baser affections? See that the leaves of outward profession be not a snare to you. You may be lulling yourselves to sleep with delusive opiates. You may be making these false coverings an apology for resisting the "putting on of the armour of light." One has no difficulty in persuading the tenant of a wretched hovel to consent to have his mud-hut taken down; but the man who has the walls of his dwelling hung with gaudy drapery, it is hard to persuade him that his house is worthless and his foundation insecure. Think not that privileges or creeds, or church-sect or church-membership, or the Shibboleth of party will save you. It is to the _heart_ that God looks. If the inner spirit be right, the outer conduct will be fruitful in righteousness. Make it not your worthless ambition to APPEAR to be holy, but _be_ holy! Live not a "dying life"--that blank existence which brings neither glory to God nor good to men. Seek that _while_ you live, the world may be the better for you, and when you die the world may miss you. Unlike the pretentious tree in our parable-text, be it yours rather to have the nobler character and recompense, so beautifully delineated under a similar figure three thousand years ago--"He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season. His leaf, also, shall not wither, and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper."[34] Let us further learn, from this solemn and impressive miracle, how true Christ is to His word. We think of Him as true to His _promises_, do we think of Him, also, as _true to His threatenings_? Judgment, indeed, is His strange work. Amid a multitude of other prodigies already performed by Him, this "cursing" of the fig-tree formed the alone exception to His miracles of _mercy_.[35] All the others were proofs and illustrations of beneficence, compassion, love. But He seems to interpose _this_ ONE, in case we should forget, in the affluence of benignity and kindness, that the same God, whose name and memorial is "merciful and gracious," has solemnly added that "He can by no means clear the guilty." He would have us to remember that there is a point beyond which even _His_ love cannot go, when the voice of ineffable _Goodness_ must melt and merge into tones of stern wrath and vengeance. The guilty may, for the brief earthly hour of their impenitence, affect to despise His divine warnings, laugh to scorn His solemn expostulations. Sentence may not be executed speedily; amazing patience may ward off the descending blow. They may, from the very _forbearance_ of Jesus, take impious encouragement to defy His threats, and rush swifter to their own destruction. But come He _will_ and _must_ to assert His claims as "He that is HOLY, He that is TRUE." The disciples, on the present occasion, heard the voice of their Master. They gazed on the doomed Fig-tree, but there seemed at the moment to be no visible change on its leaves. As they took their final glance ere passing on their way, no blight seemed to descend, no worm to prey on its roots. The fowls of Heaven may have appeared soaring in the sky, eager to nestle as before on its branches, and to bathe their plumage on the dew-drops that drenched its foliage. But was the word of Jesus in vain? Did that fig-tree take up a responsive parable, and say, "Who made Thee a ruler and a judge over me?" The Lord and His apostles passed the place a few hours afterwards on their return to Bethany.[36] But though the Passover moon was shining on their path, the darkness, and perhaps the distance from the highway, veiled from their view the too truthful doom to be revealed in morning light. As the dawn of day (Tuesday) finds them once more on their road to Jerusalem, the eyes of the disciples wander towards the spot to see whether the words of yesterday have proved to be indeed solemn verities. One glance is enough! _There_ it stands in impressive memorial. One night had done the work. No desert simoom, if it had passed over it, could have effected it more thoroughly. Its leaves were shrivelled, its sap dried, its glory gone. Ever and anon afterwards, as the disciples crossed the mountain, and as they gazed on this silent "preacher," they would be reminded that Jehovah-Jesus, their loving Master, was not "a man that He should lie, nor the son of man that he should repent." Ah! Reader, learn from all this, that the wrathful utterances of the Saviour are no idle threats. He _means_ what He _says_! He is "the Faithful and True witness;" and though "mercy and truth go continually before His face," "justice and judgment are the habitation of His throne." You may be scorning His message--lulling yourself into a dream of guilty indifference. You may see in His daily dealings no sign or symbol of coming retribution; you may be echoing the old challenge of the presumptuous scoffer--"Where is the promise of His coming?" The fig leaves may have lost none of their verdure--the sky may be unfretted by one vengeful cloud--nature, around you, may be hushed and still. You can hear no footsteps of wrath; you may be even tempted at times to think that all is a dream--that credulity has suffered itself to be duped by a counterfeit tale of superstitious terror! Or if, in better moments, you awake to a consciousness of the Bible averments being stern realities, your next subterfuge is to trust to that rope of sand to which thousands have clung, to the wreck of their eternities--an indefinite dreamy hope in the final _mercy_ of God! that on the Great Day the threatenings of Jesus will undergo some modification; that He will not carry out to the very letter the full weight of His denunciations; that the arm which love nailed to the cross of Calvary will sheathe the sword of avenging retribution, and proclaim a universal amnesty to the thronging myriads at His tribunal! "Nay! O man, who art thou that repliest against God?" Come to the fig-tree "over against" Bethany, and let it be a dumb attesting witness to the Saviour's unswerving and immutable truthfulness! Or, passing from the sign to the thing symbolised, behold that nation which God has for eighteen centuries set up in the world as a monument of His undeviating adherence to His Word. See how, in their case, to the letter He has fulfilled His threatenings. Is not this fulfillment intended as an awful foreshadowing of eternal verities: if He has "spared not the natural branches," thinkest thou He will spare _thee_? "If these things were done in the green tree, what will be done in the dry?" Mourners! You for whose comfort these pages are specially designed, is there no lesson of consolation to be drawn from this solemn "memory?" Jesus smote down that _fig-tree_--blasted and blighted it. Never again did He come to seek fruit on it. Ten thousand other buds in the Fig-forest around were opening their fragrant lips to drink in the refreshing dews of spring; but the curse of perpetual sterility rested on this! He has smitten _you_ also, but it is only to _heal_! He has bared your branches--stripped you of your verdure--broken "your staff and your beautiful rod;" but the pruning hook has been used to promote the Vigour of the tree; to lop off the redundant branches, and open the stems to the gladsome sunlight. Murmur not! Remember, _but for_ these loppings of affliction you might have effloresced into the rank luxuriant growth of mere external profession. You might have rested satisfied with the outward display of _Religiousness_, without the fruits of true _Religion_. You might have lived and died unproductive _cumberers_, deceiving others and deceiving yourselves. But He would not suffer you to linger in this state of worthless barrenness. Oh! better far, surely, these severest cuttings and incisions of the pruning knife, than to listen to the stern words--"Ephraim is joined to his idols, let him alone!" It is the most terrible of all judgments when God leaves a sinner undisturbed in his sinfulness--abandons him to "the fruit of his own ways, and to be filled with his own devices;" until, like a tree impervious to moistening dews and fructifying heat, he dwarfs and dwindles into the last hopeless stage of spiritual decay and death! "If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the Father chasteneth not?" "He purgeth it (_pruneth it_), that it may bring forth MORE FRUIT." XX. CLOSING HOURS. The evenings of the two succeeding days seem to have closed around our adorable Lord at BETHANY. We may still follow Him in imagination, in the mellow twilight, as He and His disciples crossed the bridle-path of the holy mountain from Jerusalem to the house and village of His friend. Much has changed since then; but the great features of unvarying nature retain their imperishable outlines, so that what still arrests the view of the modern traveller, in crossing the Mount of Olives, we know must have formed the identical landscape spread out before the eyes of the Incarnate Redeemer. It is more than allowable, therefore, to appropriate the words of the same trustworthy recent spectator, from whose pages we have already quoted, as presenting a truthful and veritable picture of what the Saviour _then_ saw. From almost every point in the journey, there would be visible "the long purple wall of the Moab mountains, rising out of its unfathomable depths; these mountains would then have almost the effect of a distant view of the sea, the hues constantly changing; this or that precipitous rock coming out clear in the evening shade--_there_ the form of what may possibly be Pisgah, dimly shadowed out by surrounding valleys--_here_ the point of Kerak, the capital of Moab, and future fortress of the Crusaders--and then, at times all wrapt in deep haze, the mountains overhanging the valley of the shadow of death, all the more striking from their contrast with the gray or green colours of the hills through which a glimpse was caught of them."[37] * * * * * We have no recorded incidents in connexion with these two nights at Bethany. We are left only to realise in thought the refreshment alike for body and spirit our Lord enjoyed. Exhausted with the fatigues of each day, and the advancing storm-cloud ready to burst on His devoted head, we may well imagine how grateful repose would be in the old homestead of congenial friendship. The last evening He spent at the "Palm-clad Village" must in many ways have been full of sorrowing thoughts. He had, in the afternoon, on His return from Jerusalem, when seated with his disciples "over against the Temple," gazing on its doomed magnificence, been discoursing on the appalling desolation which awaited that loved and time-honoured sanctuary. This had led Him to the more sublime and terrific theme of a Day of Judgment. Not only did He foresee the grievous obduracy of His own infatuated countrymen, but His Omniscient eye, travelling down to the consummation of all things, wept over the fate of myriads, who, in spite of atoning love and mercy, were to despise and perish. He left the threshold, consecrated so oft by His Pilgrim steps, on the Thursday of that week, not to return again till death had numbered Him among its victims. On that same morning He had sent His disciples into the city to make preparation for the keeping of the Passover Supper. He Himself followed, probably towards the afternoon, and joined them in "the Upper room," where, after celebrating for the last time the old Jewish rite, he instituted the New Testament memorial of His own dying love. Supper being ended, the disciples, probably, contemplated nothing but a return, as on preceding evenings, by their old route to Bethany. Singing their paschal hymn, they descended the Jehoshaphat ravine, by the side of the Temple. The brook Kedron was crossed, and they are once more on the Bethany path. They have reached Gethsemane; their Master retires into the depths of the olive grove, as was often His wont, to hold secret communion with His Father. But the crisis-hour has at last arrived! The Shepherd is about to be smitten, and the sheep to be scattered! Rude hands arrest Him on His way. In vain shall Lazarus and his sisters wait for their expected Lord! For _Him_ that night there is no voice of earthly comforter--no couch of needed rest;--when the shadows of darkness have gathered around Bethany, and the pale passover moon is lighting up its palm-trees, the Lord of glory is standing buffetted and insulted in the hall of Annas. The Remembrances of Bethany are here absorbed and overshadowed for a time by the darker memories of Gethsemane and Calvary. Jesus may, indeed, afterwards revisit the loved haunt of former friendship; but meanwhile He is first to accomplish that glorious Decease, _but for which_ the world could never have had on its surface one Bethany-home of love, or been cheered by one ray of happiness or hope. In vain do we try to picture, as we revert to the peaceful Village, the feelings of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary on that day of ignominious crucifixion! _where_ they were--_how_ they were employed! Can we imagine that they could linger behind, unconcerned, in their dwelling, when their Best Friend was in the hands of His murderers? We cannot think so. We may rather well believe that among the tearful eyes of the weeping women that followed the innocent Victim along the "Dolorous way," not the least anguished were the two Bethany mourners; and that as He hung upon the cross, and His languid eye saw here and there a faithful friend lingering around him while disciples had fled, Lazarus would be among the few who soothed and smoothed that awful death-pillow! Perhaps even when death had sealed His eyes, and faithless apostles gave vent to their feelings of hopeless despondency, "We trusted it had been He who should have redeemed Israel," the family of Bethany would recollect how oft He had spoken of this very hour of darkness and bereavement which had now come; Mary would, in trembling emotion, (in connexion with the humble token of her own gratitude and affection,) remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how He said, "Let her alone, against the day of my _burying_ hath she done this." We need not pursue these thoughts. We may well believe, however, that when the first day of the week had come--and the glad announcement spread from disciple to disciple, "_The Lord is risen indeed_,"--on no home in Judea would the tidings fall more welcome than on that of Lazarus of Bethany. Martha and Mary had, a few weeks before, experienced the happiness of a restored _Brother_. Now it was that of a restored _Saviour_! Whether He revisited these, His former friends, the days immediately after His resurrection, we cannot tell. It is more than probable He would. May not some hallowed _unrecorded_ "Memories of Bethany" be included in the closing words of John's gospel--"There are also many OTHER things which Jesus did?" On the way to Emmaus He joined Himself to two disciples, and "caused their hearts to burn within them as He talked by the way." So may He not have joined Himself to the friends with whom He had so oft held sacred intercourse during the days of His humiliation--breathing on them His benediction, and discoursing of those covenant blessings which He had died to purchase, and which He was about to bestow, "set as king on His holy hill of Zion." With what a new and glorious meaning to Martha must her Saviour's words have now been invested, "_I am the Resurrection and the Life_--he that believeth on Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." As the God-man, He had power over her brother's life--He had now demonstrated that He had "power over His own;"--"power" not only to "lay it down," but "power to take it up again." Her Lord had "spoken _once_, yea _twice_ had she heard this, that _power_ belongeth unto God." The Grave of Bethany was thus in her eyes inseparably connected with the grave at Golgotha. But for the rolling away of the stone from a more august sepulchre, her brother must still have been slumbering in the embrace of death. "But now had Christ risen from the dead, and become the first-fruits of them that slept." The Almighty Reaper had risen Himself from the tomb, with the sharp sickle in His hand. In the person of His dearest earthly friend He presented an earnest-sheaf of the great Resurrection-reaping-time--when the mandate was to be carried to the four winds of heaven, "Put ye in the sickle, for the harvest is ripe;--Multitudes--multitudes in the Valley of Decision." Can we participate in the joy of the family of BETHANY? Have we, like them, followed Christ to His cross and His tomb, and listened to the angelic announcement, "He is not here, He is risen?" Have we seen in His death the secret of our life? Have we beheld Him as the Great Precursor emerging from Hades, and shewing to ransomed millions the purchased path of life--the luminous highway to glory? Let our hearts be as Bethany dwellings, to welcome in a dying risen Jesus. Let us not expel Him from our souls by our sins--crucifying the Lord afresh, and putting Him to an open shame. Let not God's restoring mercies be, as, alas! often they are to us, _unsanctified_;--receiving back our Lazarus from the brink of the tomb, but refusing, on the return of health and prosperity, to share in bearing our Lord's cross--to "go forth with Him without the camp--bearing His reproach." If He has delivered our souls from death, and our eyes from tears, be it ours to follow Him through good and through bad report. Not alone amid the hosannahs of His people, or amid the world's bright sunshine, but, if need be, to confront suffering, and trial, and death for His sake. Like the Bethany family, let us mourn His absence, and long for His return. It is but for "a little while" we "shall _not_ see Him"--"again a little while and we _shall_ see Him." Oh, blessed day! when the words of the old prophet will start once more into fulfilment, and a voice from Heaven will thus address a waiting Church--"Rejoice, O daughter of Zion, behold thy King cometh!" He cometh!--but it is now with no badges of humiliation--with no anticipations of sorrow and woe to mar that hour of glory. "His head shall be crowned with many crowns"--all His saints with Him to share His triumph and enter into His joy. May we be enabled to look forward to that blessed season when, arrayed in white robes, with golden crowns on our heads, and palms of victory in our hands, these shall be cast at His feet, and the feeble Hosannahs of time shall be lost and merged in the rapturous Hallelujahs of eternity! XXI. THE LAST VISIT. What saddening thoughts are associated with our final interview with a Beloved Friend! He was in health when we last met; we little dreamt, in parting, we were to meet no more. Every circumstance of that interview is stored up in the most hallowed chambers of the soul. His last words--his last _look_--his last smile--they live there in undying memorial! Such was now the case with the disciples. They had their last walk together with their beloved Master. Ere another sun goes down over the western hills of Jerusalem He will have returned from His consummated Work to the bosom of His Father! And what is the spot which he selects as the place of Ascension?--What the favoured height or valley that is to listen to His farewell words? Still it is BETHANY--the loved home of cherished friendship, where, so lately, hours of anticipated anguish had been mitigated and soothed. The spot which, above all others, had been witness to His tears and His Omnipotence, is selected as that _from_ which, or _near_ to which, He is to bid adieu to his sorrowing Church on earth. Although there seem to be no special reasons for this selection, we cannot think it was altogether undesigned or insignificant. Our Lord was still MAN--participating in every tender feeling of our common nature; and just as many are known in life to express a partiality for the place of their departure, where they would desire their last hours to be spent, or for the sepulchre or churchyard where they would prefer their ashes to be laid;--so may we not imagine the Saviour, reverting in these, His last hours, to the hallowed memories of that hallowed village, wishful that He might ascend to heaven within view, at least, of the spot He loved so well? Whether this be the true explanation or no, we are called now to follow Him, in thought, from His concluding visit in Jerusalem to the scene of Ascension. We may imagine it, in all likelihood, the early dawn of day. The grey mists of morning were still hovering over the Jehoshaphat valley, as for the last time he descended the well-known path. He must have crossed the brook KEDRON--that brook which had so oft before murmured in His ear during night-seasons of deep sorrow--He must have passed by GETHSEMANE--the thick Olives pendant with dew, the shadows of early day still brooding over them. Their gloomy vistas must have recalled terrible hours, when the sod underneath was moistened with "great drops of blood." Can we dare to imagine His sensations and feelings when passing _now_? Would they not be the same as that of every Christian still, while passing through memories of trial, "It was good for me to be here?" Had He dashed untasted to the ground, the cup which in the depths of that awful solitude He had grasped six weeks before, His work would have been undone--a world yet unsaved! But He shrunk not from that baptism of blood and suffering. Gethsemane can now be gazed upon as a place of triumph. His Omniscient eye, as He now skirts its precincts, connects its awful struggles with the Redemption and joy of ransomed myriads through all eternity. He has the first realising earnest of the prophet's words,--Seeing of the fruit of "the travail of His soul," He is "satisfied." But vain is it to conjecture feelings and emotions unrecorded. It would, doubtless, not be on Himself the Great Redeemer would, in these waning hours of earthly communion, chiefly dwell. They would rather be occupied in preparing the hearts of the sorrowful band around Him for His approaching departure. He would unfold to them the glorious conquests which, in His name, they were on earth to achieve, as His standard-bearers and apostles, and the ineffable bliss awaiting them in that Heaven whither He was about to ascend as their Forerunner and Precursor. It must indeed have been to them a season of severe and bitter trial! They had in their hearts a full and tender impression--a gushing recollection of three years' unvarying kindness and affection--sorrows soothed--burdens eased--ingratitude overlooked--treachery forgiven. Many others they could only think of in connexion with altered tones and changed affection. _He_ was _ever the same_! But the sad day _has_ really come when they are to be parted for _time_! No more tender counsels in difficulty,--no more gentle rebukes in waywardness,--no more joyous surprises, as on the shores of Tiberias, or the road to Emmaus, when, with joyful lips, they would exclaim,--"It is the Lord!" This dream of blissful intercourse, like a meteor-flash, was about to be quenched in darkness. Their Lord was to depart, and long, long centuries were to elapse ere His gracious face was to be seen again! Whether, in this ever-memorable walk to the place of Ascension, the Adorable Redeemer visited the village of Bethany, we cannot tell. It is possible--it is _more_ than possible--He may have honoured the home of Lazarus with a farewell benediction; but this we can only conjecture. All the notice we have regarding it is: that "He led them out as far as to Bethany;" that He there lifted up His hands and blessed them; and was from thence taken up to Heaven.[38] Honoured hamlet! thus to be alone mentioned in connexion with the closing scene in this mighty drama! He selected not _Bethlehem_, where angel hosts had chanted His praise; nor _Tabor_, where celestial beings had hovered around Him in homage; nor _Calvary_, where riven rocks and bursting grave-stones had proclaimed His deity; nor the _Temple-court_, in all its sumptuous glory, where for ages His own Shekinah had blazed in mystic splendour; but He hallows afresh the name of a lowly _Village_; He consecrates a Home of love. BETHANY is the last spot which lingers on His view, as the cloud comes down and receives Him out of sight. Let us gather for a little in imagination on this sacred ground. Let us note a few of the interesting thoughts which cluster around it, and listen to the Saviour's farewell themes of converse there with His beloved disciples. (1.) He cheers their hearts with the promised baptism of the Holy Ghost.--"John," He had said, a few hours before, at His last meeting with them in Jerusalem, "truly baptized with water; but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days hence."[39] He, moreover, enjoined them to linger in the Holy City, and wait this "promise of the Father" which "they had heard of Him;" and now, once more, when on the eve of Ascension, He speaks of the coming of the same Holy Ghost to qualify them for their future work.[40] This, we know, was the great topic of consolation with which He had often before soothed their hearts at the thought of parting. _He_ was to leave them;--but an Almighty _Paraclete_ or _Comforter_ was to take His place, whose gracious presence would more than compensate for the withdrawal of His own. For when, on the intimation of His coming departure, He observed that sorrow was filling their hearts--"It is expedient," said He, "for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you."[41] Now that the anticipated hour is come, He reverts to the same omnipotent ground of comfort;--that this Divine Enlightener, Cheerer, Sanctifier, would fill up the gap His own withdrawal would make. They were about to enter on a new dispensation--the dispensation of the SPIRIT--and the approaching Pentecost was to give them a pledge and earnest of His mighty agency in the conversion of souls. Jesus, our adorable Lord, has ascended to "His Father and our Father--to His God and our God!" We, like the disciples, have to mourn the denial of His personal presence. His Church is left widowed and lonely by reason of His departure. But have we known, in our experience, the value of the great compensating boon here spoken of? Have we known, in the midst of our weakness and wants, our griefs and sorrows, the power and grace of the promised Paraclete? It is to be feared we do not realise or value His blessed agency as we ought. To what is much of the deadness, and dullness, and languor of our frames to be traced--the poverty of our faith, the lukewarmness of our love, the coldness of our Sabbath services, the little hold and influence of divine things upon us? Is it not to the feeble realisation of the quickening, life-giving power of this Divine Agent? "It is the Spirit that quickeneth." Church of the living God! if you would awake from your slumber and apathy; if you would exhibit among your members more faithfulness, more zeal, more love, more unselfishness, more union--if you would buckle on your armour for fresh conquests in the outlying wastes of heathenism, it will be by a fresh baptism of the Holy Ghost! Another Pentecost will usher in the Millennial morning. The showers of His benign influences will form the prelude to the world's great Spiritual Harvest. "Pray ye, then, the Lord of the Harvest," that His Spirit may "come down like rain upon the mown grass, and as showers that water the earth," and that the promise regarding the latter-day glory may be fulfilled--"I will pour down My Spirit upon all flesh." Or would you have Jesus made more precious to your _own_ soul? Would you see more of His matchless excellences,--the glories of His person and work,--His suitableness and adaptation to all the wants and weaknesses, the sorrows and temptations, of your tried and tempted natures. Pray for this gracious Unfolder of the Saviour's character. This is one of His most precious offices--as the _Revealer_ of Jesus. "He shall glorify _Me_; for He shall receive of _Mine_, and shall shew it unto you!"[42] (2.) Another theme of Christ's converse, when within sight of Bethany, was _the nature of His Kingdom_--"Lord, wilt thou at this time restore again the kingdom of Israel?" was the inquiry of the disciples. "And he said unto them, It is not for you to know the times or the seasons which the Father hath put in His own power."[43] The thoughts of His followers were clinging to the last to the dream of earthly sovereignty. How difficult it is to get even the renewed and regenerated mind to understand and realise Heavenly things, and to wean it from what is of the earth earthy! He checks their presumption--He tells them these are questions which they may not pry into. There is to be no present fulfilment of these visions of millennial glory. That day and that hour are to be wrapt in unrevealed and impenetrable secrecy. The Church may not attempt rashly and inquisitively to lift the veil. She is not to know the _time_ of the Saviour's appearing, that she may live every day in the frame she would wish to be found in when the cry shall be heard, "Behold the Bridegroom cometh." The apostolic band are, in the first instance, to be cross-bearers, as He their Master was,--witnesses to His sufferings, earthen vessels, defamed, persecuted, reviled,--before they become partakers of His purchased happiness and bliss! Nevertheless, it was a grand and glorious mission He sketched out for them. How worthy of HIMSELF--of his loving, forgiving, unselfish Spirit--was the opening clause in that wondrous Missionary Charter He then put into their hands. Even at the moment when all the memory of Jewish ingratitude was fresh on His heart, He inserts a wondrous provision of mercy and grace. They were to proclaim His name through the wide world; but was JERUSALEM (the scene of His ignominy) to form an exception? Nay, rather they were to _begin there_! The Gospel-Trumpet was to be sounded in its streets. The assassins of Gethsemane, the murderers of Calvary were to listen to the first offers of pardon and reconciliation--"And He said unto them ... that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name among all nations, _beginning_ at _Jerusalem_!" Precious warrant, surely, are these words to "the chief of sinners" to repair to this gracious Saviour. If even for "_the Jerusalem sinner_" there is mercy, can there be ground for one human being to despair? But "_beginning_" at Jerusalem, the Gospel Commission did not _end_ there? It was to embrace, first, "Judea," then "Samaria," then "the uttermost parts of the earth."[44] The ascending Redeemer's expansive heart took in with a vast sweep the wide circle of humanity. From the elevated ridge of Olivet, on which He now stood with the arrested group around Him, He might tell them to gaze, in thought at least, far north beyond the Cedar Heights of Lebanon and Hermon;--Southward to the desert and the Isles of the Ocean;--Westward to the fair lands washed by the Great Sea;--Eastward across the palm-trees of Bethany and the chain of Moabite mountains on unexplored continents, where heathenism still revelled in its rites and orgies of impurity and blood. With Palestine as their centre and starting-point, the vast World was to be their circumference. The Gospel was to be preached "as a witness to all nations." The Great Mission-Angel was to "fly through the midst of Heaven," having its everlasting truths to "preach to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people." Are _we_ faithfully fulfilling our Lord's farewell Apostolic Commission? As members of the Church of God, component parts of the Royal Priesthood, are we doing what lies in our power, that His name, and doctrine, and salvation, be proclaimed to the uttermost parts of the earth? Or is it so, that we are looking coldly, suspiciously, indifferently on the Church's efforts in the cause of Missions, suffering her funds to fail, and her schemes to languish, and her devoted servants to sink in discouragement? Or rather, are we prepared to incur the responsibility of heathen souls, through our neglect, passing hour by hour into eternity, with a Saviour's name unheard of, and a Saviour's love unknown? Go to the Rocky ridge above BETHANY, and listen to the parting injunction of our Great Master. His last words, ere the cloud received Him to glory, were _Missionary_ words, a _Missionary_ appeal, a pleading for the Gospel being sent to heathen shores. Ah! _our own Britain_ was then among the number! If the Apostolic Company had in these days, like many among ourselves, refused, on the ground of the _home-heathen_ in Judea, to send any of their band abroad, where would _we_ have been at this hour? With our Druids' altars, our bloody sacrifices, our cruel rites! But their best and noblest were commissioned to speed from port to port in the Mediterranean and the Isles of the Gentiles, with the Gospel errand on their lips, and the blessing of God on their labours! All honour to these leal-hearted men, who, in spite of national and hereditary prejudices, implicitly followed the will of their Lord and Master, who had given to them, as He has given to us, a great Missionary motto--"THE FIELD IS THE WORLD!" * * * * * And now His themes of instruction and comfort are over--He is about to Ascend! The symbolic cloud--(invariable emblem of Deity)--comes down to conduct Him to His throne. What a moment was that! Glory in view--the hallelujahs of angels floating in His ear--the air thronged with celestial hosts waiting as His retinue to bear Him upwards;--all heaven in eager expectancy for her returning Lord. And yet--how is He employed? Is the world, that had so disowned Him, disowned now in return? Are the disciples, who have so oft deserted Him, now deserted in return?--their name forgotten in the thought of the loftier spirits who are to gather around Him in the skies? Nay, His every thought is centered on the weeping band of earth. "He lifted up his hands and blessed them!"[45] His last words are those of mercy--His last act is outstretching His arms to bless! It was an act replete with meaning to the Church of God in every age. Jesus, when He was last seen on earth, wore no terror on His lips--but He left our world pouring a benediction on His redeemed people. There is something, moreover, significant in the recorded fact that "WHILE He blessed them, He was parted from them!" The Benediction was unfinished when the cloud bore Him away! As they gazed upwards and upwards till that glorious form was diminishing in the blue sky above, still His hands were extended;--the last dim vision which lingered on their memories was the True High Priest blessing the representative Israel of God! It would seem as if He wished to indicate that the act begun on earth was to be carried on and perpetuated in heaven--that though parted from them, His outstretched arms would still plead for them on the Throne. His _voice_ could no longer be heard--but His blessing still would continue to descend till He came again! Wondrous close to a wondrous life! We have traversed in thought many other memorials of Bethany. We have stood by the gate where Martha met her Lord--the silent sepulchre which listened to the voice of Omnipotence--the holy home where friendship was realised such as earth never before or since beheld. But surely not less sacred or hallowed than any of these is the scene presented on the green ridge rising to the west of the village, overlooking its groves of palm. Before superstition ventured to raise its cumbrous monument on the heights of Olivet, may we not think of the scene of the Ascension, rather in connexion with three _living_ Temples? May we not think of it as oft and again visited by Martha, and Mary, and Lazarus? May we not well imagine it would form a hallowed retirement for solemn meditation! Amid more sorrowful thoughts, connected with their Lord's absence from them, would they not there often muse in holy joy over the now fulfilled prophetic strains of their minstrel King?--"Thou hast ascended on high, Thou hast led captivity captive: Thou hast received gifts for men; yea, _for_ the rebellious also, that the Lord God might dwell among _them_."[46] Do _we_ love also to linger in spirit on that spot, and listen to that benediction?--"Blessed," we read, "are they that know the joyful sound." In these words there is a beautiful allusion to the sound of the pendant bells on the vestment of the High Priest in the Jewish temple of old. When the assembled multitudes in the outer court heard their music within the holiest of all, it conveyed the assurance that the High Priest was there, actively engaged in his official duties--sprinkling the Mercy Seat with blood, and pleading for the nation. They felt "blessedness" in hearing and _knowing_ "that joyful sound." Beautiful type of JESUS the Great High Priest within the veil! We seem, as we behold Him standing on the crest of Olivet, to listen to the first note of these gladsome chimes. He leaves His Church proclaiming nothing but blessings. As He rises upwards, and the diminishing cloud recedes from sight, still the music of benediction seems to float on the calm morning air. The Golden Bells are sounding--and though the celestial notes cease, it is only distance which renders them inaudible. They are still pendant at His Royal Priestly robes, telling us that still He intercedes! Oh, let us now hear His benediction! Let the comforting thought follow us wherever we go--"_Jesus is pleading for me within the Veil._" He left this world _blessing_--He is engaged in _blessing_ still. "HE EVER LIVETH TO MAKE INTERCESSION FOR US." XXII. ANGELIC COMFORTERS. The Lord has ascended. The disciples are left alone in wondering amazement. The bright cloud which formed His chariot had swept majestically upwards--till (dimming on their view) the gates of heaven closed on Him, who, a moment before, had been breathing upon them farewell benedictions of peace and love. Are they to be left alone? Terrible must have been the feeling of solitude on that lone mountain-ridge, as the voice of mingled Omnipotence and Love was hushed for all time. "Alone, but yet _not_ alone!" While their eyes are still directed up to the spot where they got the last glimpse of the vanishing cloud--transfixed there in speechless Sorrow, lo! "two men stood by them in shining vestures!" The Saviour has departed; the sunshine of His own loving presence is gone--but He leaves them not unsolaced. The vision of the patriarch is again realised. When, like that weary pilgrim, dejected, disconsolate, and sad--a ladder of comfort is stretched down from the heaven on which they gaze, and "the Angels of God are ascending and descending on it!" Ah! whenever the Lord removes one comfort, He is ready to supply another. He Himself leaves His disciples--but no sooner _does_ He leave, than Angels come and minister to them; and this is immediately followed by a mightier than Angelic Comforter--even the fulfilled promise of the Holy Spirit. "If I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you, but if I depart, I will send Him unto you." How graciously does Jesus thus adapt Himself to the character and trials of His people! What compensations He gives when they are suffering tribulation! One blessing is taken away--it is only that they may be brought more fully to value others which remain. A beloved friend is removed by death--the household is saddened at the stroke--its aching hearts are smitten and withered like the grass--but new spiritual consolations are imparted, unknown before--brighter manifestations of the Saviour's grace and mercy are vouchsafed--the Promises of God, like the ministering angels on Mount Olivet, are sent to hover around these stricken spirits. They are made to sing of "mercy" in the midst of "judgment!" Is Hagar in the desert? There is a fountain (though at first unseen) at her side! Is Elijah trembling in the dark cave of Horeb? There is a "still small voice" amid the long-drawn breath of the tempest, and earthquake, and storm;--"The Lord is _there_!" Be assured He will never leave nor forsake any that truly seek Him. To all desolate ones, who, like the Olivet disciples, lift the steadfast eye of faith heavenwards, bending like them in the silent attitude of resignation and faith--God will send comfort. He will have his angels ready to wipe weeping eyes and soothe sorrowful hearts. We cannot grapple with this doctrine. We who are creatures of sense, who are cognisant through a corporeal organism only of what is tangible and material, cannot grasp what relates to the immaterial, invisible, spiritual. We strive in vain to realise the truth of Angelic Beings compassing our earthly path, joying with us in our joys--aiding us in our perplexities, and mingling their accents of comfort with us in our seasons of sorrow. But though mysteriously invisible, we believe there are hosts of these blessed messengers thronging around, profoundly interested in all that concerns us--"bearing us up in all our ways"--following us, as Jacob saw them, step by step up the ladder of salvation, till we reach our thrones and our crowns! Angelic agency is no mere gorgeous dream of inspired poetry--no mere symbolic way of stating the doctrine of Divine Providence, and the peculiar care which God takes of His Church and people. The Bible gives us too many positive statements on the subject to permit a figurative interpretation. These bright and holy Beings are there represented as having witnessed all along with profound interest the gradual unfolding of the plan of salvation--from the hour when, at creation's birth, the morning stars sang together, and all the Sons of God shouted for joy--onwards to the eventful night when they met over the plains of Bethlehem and chanted a responsive anthem at the advent of the Prince of Peace! Now that Redemption is completed--they have gathered once more on Olivet to form a royal retinue to conduct their Lord to His crown--to summon the gates of Heaven to "lift up their heads" that "the King of Glory may enter in." If God, in bringing in His first-begotten into the world, said, "Let all the angels of God worship Him;" much more, when His work is done, and the moral Conqueror, laden with the spoils of victory, is about to return to His throne, may we expect that "the chariots of God" ("twenty thousand, even thousands of angels") are waiting to grace His triumph. Nor were they merely employed on earth as His servants and attendants during the period of His incarnation--leaving our world, when _He_ left it, to "serve him day and night in His heavenly temple." A portion of this glorious bodyguard we find now, at the hour of Ascension, left behind to certify to the disciples and the Church in every age, that Angels were still to continue their loving watchfulness and interest over the Pilgrims in a Pilgrim world--still to be sent forth on errands of mercy to "minister to them who are heirs of salvation!" Is it the House of God--the gates of Zion--the Holy place of Solemnities? The scene now before us on Mount Olivet forms a miniature picture of what takes place Sabbath after Sabbath in every meeting of Christian disciples. As we are assembled like the apostles in our Sanctuary--looking upwards to Heaven, there are glorious Spirits, we may well believe, clustering around us--hovering in silence over our assembly--engaged, it may be, in unseen conflict with the emissaries of evil--assisting us in our prayers--joining with us in our praises--waiting to waft these upwards, and get them perfumed with the incense of the Saviour's merits. Nor is it the Sanctuary alone they overshadow with their wings of light. The lowliest homestead of the believer is oftentimes made a MAHANAIM ("a Host"). The dwellers in the world's thousand Bethany-homes of simple faith and lowly love are "entertaining angels unawares." In the hour of sickness they are there unseen to smooth our pillow. In the hour of danger they are at hand to "shut the lions' mouths." In the hour of bereavement they are employed bringing messages of solace from the Intercessor within the veil, and enabling us to "glorify God in the fires." In the hour of death they are waiting to lend their wings to the Immortal tenant as it bursts its earthly coil. Oh, if the _return_ of the Repentant Sinner be to them an hour of joyous jubilee;--if their songs of triumph greet the Believer _justified_;--what must it be to exult over the gladsome consummation--the Believer _glorified_; to be engaged on the Great Day as Reapers at the ingathering of the sheaves into the heavenly garner--throwing open, at the bidding of their Great Lord, the Golden Portals that the ransomed millions may enter in! "Oh never, till the clouds of time Have vanish'd from the ken of man, And he from yonder heaven sublime Look back where mystic life began, Will gather'd saints in glory know What blessings men to angels owe. "This earth is but a thorny wild, A tangled maze where griefs abound, By sorrow vex'd, by sin defiled, Where foes and friends our walk surround; But does not God in mercy say, Angelic guardians line the way? "Sickness and woe perchance may have Ethereal hosts whom none perceive, Whose golden wings around us wave When all alone men seem to grieve; But while we sigh or shed the tear, Their sympathies may linger near. "When gracious beams of holy light From heaven's half-open'd portals play, And from our scene of suffering night Melts nigh its haunted gloom away; Each doubt perchance some angel sees, And hovers o'er our bended knees! "And when at length this wearied life Of toil and danger breathes its last, Or ere the flesh, with parting strife, Is down to clay and coldness cast; The struggling soul can learn the story, How angels waft the blest to glory."[47] But, after all, can Angels really impart comfort? They cannot. They are but servants and delegates of a Mightier than they. Like all ministers and messengers, if they can dry a human tear and soothe a human sorrow, it is by pointing, not to themselves, but to their glorious and glorified Lord. What was their message now? Was it, "We are come to supply the place of your Ascended Redeemer--we are henceforth to be your appointed helpers--the objects of your faith, and hope, and confidence, in the house of your pilgrimage?" No! The eyes of the disciples are gazing upwards and heavenwards. The Angels tell them not in anywise to alter the direction of their thoughts and affections. They are musing (as in vain they still wistfully look for any relic of the chariot-cloud) on "_Jesus only_." They are to think of "_Him only_" still! The Celestial Visitants seem to say, "Ye men of Galilee, _we_ cannot comfort you;--_we_ would prove but poor solaces and compensations for the Adorable Saviour who has left you. _We_ come not to take His place--but to speak to you still regarding Him. He has left you! but it is only for a season; and better than this, although He has left you, He loves you as much as ever. Even in that distant glory to which He has sped His way, His heart is unchanged and unchangeable--His name is 'Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever.'" Here then was their first theme of comfort. It was the NAME of _Jesus_. That "name of their Lord" was still to be their "strong tower!" Oh, there is something touchingly beautiful about this angelic address. What a simple but sublime antidote for these stricken Spirits, "THAT SAME JESUS." "That _same_ Jesus,"--He who laid His infant head on the manger at Bethlehem--He who walked on the Sea of Tiberias, and hushed its angry waves--He who spoke comfort to a stricken spirit at the well of Sychar, and at the gate of Nain--He who, in yonder palm-clad village sleeping in quiet loveliness at their feet, soothed the pangs of deeply afflicted hearts, and made death itself yield its prey--He who had first shed His tears and then His blood over the city He loved--He who so freely forgave, so meekly suffered, so willingly died! "THAT SAME JESUS" was still on High! The Brother's form was still there! The Kinsman-Redeemer's sympathy was still there! Though all heaven was then doing Him homage--though He had exchanged the chilling ingratitude of earth for the glories of an unsullied world of purity and love--yet nothing could blot out from His heart the names of those whom He had still left for a little season behind, to be bearers of His cross before they became sharers of His crown! What a comfort, amid all earth's vicissitudes and changes, this motto-verse! _Earth may_ change. Since the Lord ascended, earth _has_ changed! There are "Written rocks"--manifold more than those of Sinai--that bear engraven on their furrowed brows, "The world passeth away." Ocean's old shores have transgressed their boundaries--kingdoms have risen and fallen--thronging cities have sprung up amid desert wastes--and proud capitals have been levelled with the dust. _Friends_ may change; our very lot and circumstances, in spite of ourselves, may change. Our fondly planned schemes and cherished hopes may vanish into thin air, and the _place_ that now knows us know us no more! But there is ONE that changeth not--a Rock which stands immutable amid all the ceaseless heavings and commotions of this mortal life--and that Rock is Christ! Has he ever failed us? Ask the _tried_ Christian. Ask the _aged_ Christian. That gray-haired believer may be like a solitary oak in the forest--all his compeers cut down--tempest after tempest has sighed and swept amid the branches--tree by tree has succumbed to the blast--there may be nothing but wreck and ruin and devastation all around. Friend after friend has departed; some have _altered_ towards him; kindness may have given way to alien looks and estranged affection; others are removed by _distance_--old familiar faces and scenes have given place to new ones;--others have been called away to the silent grave--sleeping quiet and still in "the narrow house appointed for all living." That aged lonely Christian can clasp his withered hands, and exclaim, through his tears, "_But_ THOU art the same, and _Thy_ years shall have no end." "Heart and flesh do faint and fail, but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever." "My God, I thank thee, Thou dost care for me; I am content rejoicing to go on, Even when my home seems very far away; And over grief, and aching emptiness, And fading hopes a higher joy ariseth. In nightliest hours one lonely spot is bright, High over head, through folds and folds of space; It is the earnest star of all my heavens, And tremulous in the deep-well of my being, Its image answers. * * * * I WILL THINK OF JESUS."[48] But, in addition to the name and nature of Jesus--the Angels added a promise of comfort regarding Him. "He shall _so come_ in like manner as ye have seen Him go into heaven."[49] _Jesus shall come again!_ When a beloved brother or friend whom we love is taken from us by death, how cheered we are by the thought of rejoining him in a brighter and better world. Even in earthly separations, how cheering the prospect of those severed by oceans and continents meeting once more in the flesh--the associations of youth renewed and perpetuated--and the long-severed links of friendship welded and cemented again! What must be, to the bereft and lonely Christian, the thought of being restored, and that _for ever_, to his long-absent Saviour? _Jesus shall come again_!--it is the Church's "blessed hope"--the day when her weeds and robes of ashen sorrow shall be laid for ever aside, and she shall "enter into the joy of her Lord?" It is His return, too, in a glorified manhood. That _same Jesus shall SO come_! Yes! "_so_ come," in the very body with which He bade the sorrowing eleven that sad, farewell! He left them with His hands extended, and with blessings on His lips. He will return in the same attitude to greet His expectant Church, with the words, "Come, _ye blessed_ of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." And if it be a comforting thought, "Jesus _still_ the _same_, now seated on the Mediatorial throne,"--equally comforting surely is the prospect that it will be in all the unchanging and undying sympathies of His exalted humanity, that He will come again as Judge. "God hath appointed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness by _that_ MAN whom he hath ordained." He shall come, not arrayed in the stern magnificence of Godhead! As we behold Him, we need not crouch in terror at His approach. _Humanity_ will soften the awe which Deity would inspire. We can rejoice with Job not only that our Kinsman Redeemer "_liveth_," but that, _as_ our Kinsman Redeemer, "He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth!" _Would_ that we more constantly lived under the realising power of this elevating thought--"Soon my Lord will come!" "Of the times and the seasons ye need not that I write unto you." It is not for us to dogmatize on the unrevealed period of the "glorious appearing." The millennial trumpet may in all probability sound over our slumbering dust--the millennial sun shine on the turf which may for centuries have covered our graves!--But _who_, on the other hand, dare venture to question the _possibility_ of the nearer alternative?--that the Judge may be "standing before the door"--the shadow of the Advent Throne even now projected on an unthinking and unbelieving world! "He that _shall_ come _will_ come, and will not tarry!"--Although it be true that eighteen hundred years have elapsed since that utterance was made, and still no gleam of the coming morning streaks the horizon--although the calculations and longing expectations of the Church have hitherto only issued in successive disappointments, yet the hour _is_ nearing! As grain by grain drops in Time's sand-glass, it gives new significance and truthfulness to the Divine monition--"Behold, I come quickly!" Ah! if He _may_ come _soon_--if He MUST come at some time, how shall I meet Him? Will it be with joy? Am I shaping my course in life--my plans--my schemes--my wishes with what I feel would be in accordance with His will? Am I conscious of doing nothing that would lead me to be ashamed before Him at His coming? It would save many a perplexity--it would soothe many a heart-ache, and dry many a tear--if we were to make this great culminating event in the world's history, with all its elevating motives, more our guide and regulator than we do;--living each day, and _all_ our days, as if _possibly_ the very next hour might disclose "the sign of the Son of Man in the midst of the Heavens!" Not building our nests too fondly here--not too anxious to nestle in creature comforts, but occupying faithfully the talents to be traded on which He has committed to our stewardship; straining the eye of faith, like the mother of Sisera, for His approaching chariot; and amid our griefs, and separations, and sorrows, listening to the sublime inspired antidote--"Stablish your hearts, FOR _the coming of the Lord draweth nigh_." Blessed--glorious--happy day! And as His _first_ coming was terminated by His Ascension, so will there be a second Ascension at His _second_ Advent, with this important difference, however, that, as in the former, He left His Church behind Him, orphaned and forlorn, to battle in a world of sorrow and sin; in the other, not one unit among the rejoicing myriads, bought with His blood, will He debar from sharing in the splendour of His final entrance within the celestial gates. "The Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout--with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God; and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then they who are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord." "We must not stand to gaze too long, Though on unfolding heaven our gaze we bend; When lost behind the bright angelic throng, We see Christ's entering triumph slow ascend. "No fear but we shall soon behold, Faster than now it fades, that gleam revive, When issuing from his cloud of fiery gold, Our wasted frames feel the true Sun and live. "Then shall we see Thee as Thou art, For ever fix'd in no unfruitful gaze, But such as lifts the new created heart Age after age in worthier love and praise." XXIII. THE DISCIPLES' RETURN. The time has come when the disciples must leave the crest of Olivet and bend their steps once more to Jerusalem. Ah! most sorrowful thought--most sorrowful pilgrimage! Often, often had it been trodden before with their Lord's voice of love and power sounding in their ears. Often had it proved an Emmaus journey, when their hearts "burned within them as He talked to them by the way and opened unto them the Scriptures." But He is gone!--that voice is now hushed--the well-loved path, worn by His blessed footsteps, and consecrated by His midnight prayers, must be trodden by them alone! Willingly, perhaps, like Peter, on Tabor, would they have tarried on the spot where they last saw His human form, and listened to the music of His voice, just as we still love to revisit some haunt of hallowed friendship and associate it with the name and words and features of the departed. But they dare not linger. As the disciples of this great and good Master, they dare not remain to indulge in mere sentimental grief, or in vain hopes and expectations of a speedy return. Life is too short--their Apostolic work too solemn and momentous, to suffer them to consume their hours in unavailing sorrow. We may imagine them taking their last look upwards to heaven, and then bending a tearful eye down upon Bethany--its hallowed remembrances all the _more_ hallowed, that the vision is now about to pass away for ever! The Angels, too, have sped away, and the eleven pilgrims begin their solitary return back to the city and temple from which the _true_ Glory had indeed departed! _And how did they return?_ What were their feelings as they rose to pursue their way? Had we not been told far otherwise, we should have imagined them to have been those of deep dejection. We should have pictured to ourselves a weary, weeping, troubled band; their countenances shaded with a sorrow too profound for words;--the joyous melodies of that morning hour, all in sad contrast with those hearts which were bowed down with a bereavement unparalleled in its nature since a weeping world was bedewed with tears! They were going too, as "lambs in the midst of wolves," to the very city where, a few weeks before, their Lord had been crucified,--the disciples of a hated Master, "not knowing the things that might befall _them_ there." Could we wonder, if for the moment these aching spirits should have surrendered themselves to mingled feelings of disconsolate grief and terror. But _how different_! Sorrow indeed they _must_ have had; but if so, it was counterbalanced and overborne by far other emotions; for of the _sorrow_, the Evangelist says _nothing_; the simple record of this mournful journey is in these words, "They returned to Jerusalem WITH GREAT JOY." Most wonderful, and yet most true! Never did mourner return from a funeral scene--(from laying in the grave his nearest and dearest)--with a heavier sense of an overwhelming loss than did that widowed orphaned band. And yet, lo! they are _joyful_! A sunshine is lighting up their faces. The "Sun of their souls" has set behind the world's horizon. But though vanished from the eye of sense, His glory and radiance seem still to linger on their spirits, just as the orb of day gilds the lofty mountain-peaks long after his descent. They tread the old footway with elastic step! As Gethsemane, and Kedron, and the Temple-path, are in succession skirted, while "_sorrowful_, they are alway REJOICING." Why is this? It was God Himself fulfilling in their experience His own promise, "_As thy day is, so shall thy strength be._" He metes out strength IN the day of trial, and FOR the day of trial. When _we_ expect nothing but fainting and trembling, sadness and despondency, He whispers His own promise, and makes it good, "My grace is sufficient for thee; for my strength is made perfect in weakness." Who so faint as these disciples? Think of them in their by-past history, tossed on Gennesaret, cowering with dread in their vessel! Think of them in the Judgment-Hall of Pilate; think of them at the cross! Nothing there but pusillanimity and cowardice. Nay, when our Lord had spoken to them on a former occasion of this same departure, we read that "_sorrow had filled their hearts_." They could not bear the thought of so cruel a severance from all they held dear: But see them now--when the sad hour has come--lonely--unbefriended--their Lord hopelessly removed from the _eye of sense_; though but a few days before, they were traitors to their trust--unfaithful in their allegiance--bending, like bruised reeds, before the storm--behold them now, retraversing their way to Jerusalem, not with sorrow, as we might expect, but _with joy_. The Evangelist even notes the extent and measure of the emotion. It was not a mere effort to overbear their sorrow--an outward semblance of reconciliation to their hard fate--but it was a deep fountain of real gladness, welling up from their riven spirits. They returned, he tells us, with "GREAT JOY!" Oh! the wonders of the _grace of God_. What grace _has_ done--what grace _can_ do! We speak not of it now under its manifold other and diversified phases,--_converting_ grace, and _restraining_ grace, and _sanctifying_ grace, and _dying_ grace. Here we have to do only with _sustaining_ and _supporting_ grace. But how many Christian disciples, in their Olivets of sorrow, have been able to tell the same experience? How often, when a believer is stricken down with sore affliction--when the hand of death enters his family--when the treasured life of the dwelling is taken, and he feels in the anticipation of such a blow as if it would smite _him_, too, to the dust, and it were impossible to survive the prostration of all that links him to life--when the tremendous blow _comes_, lo! sustaining grace he never could have _dreamed_ of comes along with it. He rises _above_ his trial. Underneath him are the Everlasting arms. "The joy of the Lord is his strength!" He treads along life's lonely way _sorrowful_, yet with a "song in the night." Amid earth's separations and sadness, he hears the voice of Jesus, saying, "Lo! I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Oh, trust that Grace still! It is the secret of your spiritual strength. "Not I, not I, but the grace of God that is with me!" You may have to confront "a great fight of afflictions;" but that grace sustaining you, you will be made "more than conquerors." "All men forsook me," said the great Apostle, "_nevertheless_, the LORD stood with me, and strengthened me, and I was delivered out of the mouth of the lion." "And God is able to make _all_ grace abound toward YOU; that ye, always having _all-sufficiency_ in _all things_, may abound to every good work." You have found Him faithful in the past;--trust Him in the future. Cast all your cares, and each care, as it arises, on Him, saying, in childlike faith, "Undertake Thou for me!" Then, then, in your very night-seasons, "His song will be with you." The Mount of your trial--the mournful, desolate, solitary, rugged path you tread, will be carpeted with love, fringed with mercy, and earth's darkest future will grow bright as you listen to a voice stealing from the upper sanctuary, "I will come again and receive you unto Myself; that where I am, there ye may be also." In this scene of the disciples returning to Jerusalem, we are presented with the last picture of the Home of BETHANY. Here the earthly vision is sealed, and we are only left to imagine Martha, and Mary, and Lazarus, when the joyous footfall that had cheered their dwelling could be heard no more, living together in sacred harmony, exulting in "the blessed hope, even the glorious appearing of the Great God their Saviour."[50] Did they live to survive the destruction of Jerusalem? Did they live to hear the tramp of the Roman legions resounding through their quiet hamlet, and "the abomination of desolation," the imperial eagles desecrating the hallowed ridges of Olivet? Did they often repair to the meetings of the infant Church in Jerusalem, and delight to mingle with the _under_ shepherds, when the "_Chief_ Shepherd" had gone? Or did the venerable company of Apostles love to resort, as their Lord before them, to the old village of palm-trees, whose every memory was fragrant with their Master's name? All these, and similar questions, we cannot answer. This we know and feel assured of--they are now gathered a holy and happy family in the true Bethany above--_there_ never more to listen to the voice of weeping, or hear the tread of the funeral crowd, or the wail of the Mourner! And soon, too, shall many of us (let us trust) be _there_, to meet them! BETHANY, we have seen, had alike its tears and its joys; so will it be with every spot and every scene in this mingled world. But where the Family of Bethany _now_ are, the motto is--"NEVER _sorrowful_, ALWAY _rejoicing_!" And, better than all, while they never can be severed from one another, they never can be separated from their Lord. He is no longer now, as formerly at their earthly home, like "a wayfaring man that turneth aside to tarry for a night." No Olivet now to remind of farewells. They are "_with Him_," "seeing Him as He is," and that "for ever and ever!" And if, meanwhile, regarding ourselves, the journey of life has for a little still to be traversed, and the battle of life still to be fought; blessed be God, "we go not a warfare on our own charges." The same grace vouchsafed to the disciples is promised to _us_. _That grace_ will enable us to rise superior to all the vicissitudes and changes of the journey. Let us rise from our Olivet-ridge and be going; and though traversing different footpaths to the same Home--be it ours, like the disciples, to reach at last--a holy and happy company--the true Heavenly Jerusalem--"WITH GREAT JOY." THE END. FOOTNOTES [1] _Bethany_ signifies literally "_The house of dates_." [2] "The _figs_ of Bethany" are mentioned specially by the Rabbins as being subject to tithing. [3] Stanley's "Sinai and Palestine." [4] Anderson. [5] Bartlett's "Walks about Jerusalem." [6] Neander's "Life of Christ." [7] "What Mary fell short in words she made up in tears. She said less than Martha, but wept more; and tears of devout affection have a voice, a loud prevailing voice--no rhetoric like that."--MATTHEW HENRY. [8] _Note_.--See p. 173. [9] "Within and Without." [10] John xi. 11. [11] John xi. 20. [12] John xi. 21. [13] John xi. 26. [14] John xi. 27. [15] John xi. 39. [16] John xi. 39. [17] John xi. 41. [18] Rev. iii. 5. [19] Rom. viii. 34. [20] John v. 29. [21] As the Jewish sabbath began at six o'clock on Friday evening, and lasted till six on Saturday evening, we may infer it was after the close of its sacred hours (at "eventide") He reached Bethany. [22] It is supposed to have been equivalent to £10 of our money. [23] Tennyson. [24] An excellent Christian poet has thus amplified this thought:-- "Thou hast thy record in the monarch's hall, And on the waters of the far mid sea; And where the mighty mountain shadows fall, The Alpine hamlet keeps a thought of thee. Where'er, beneath some Oriental tree, The Christian traveller rests--where'er the child Looks upward from the English mother's knee, With earnest eyes, in wond'ring reverence mild, There art thou known. Where'er the Book of Light Bears hope and healing, there, beyond all blight, Is borne thy memory--and all praise above. Oh! say what deed so lifted thy sweet name, Mary! to that pure, silent place of fame?-- One lowly offering of exceeding love." [25] This was a common opinion among the Fathers of the Church. [26] Mark xi. 1-12. [27] Stanley's "Sinai and Palestine," p. 188-191. A work of rare interest, which condenses in one volume the literature of the Holy Land. [28] "Christian Year." [29] Bethphage, _lit._ "the house of figs." [30] Stanley, p. 418. [31] "If the miracles generally have a symbolical import, we have in this case one that is _entirely_ symbolical."--NEANDER. [32] "Trench on the Miracles," p. 444. See a full exposition of the design and import of this miracle in this exhaustive and admirable dissertation. [33] "The fig-tree, rich in foliage, but destitute of fruit, represents the Jewish people, so abundant in outward shows of piety, but destitute of its reality. Their vital sap was squandered upon leaves. And as the fruitless tree, failing to realise the aim of its being, was destroyed, so the theocratic nation, for the same reason, was to be overtaken, after long forbearance, by the judgments of God, and shut out from His kingdom."--NEANDER. [34] Psalm i. 3. [35] "In that of the devils in the swine there was no punishment, but only a permitting of the thing."--See "Stier's Words of the Lord Jesus," vol. iii. p. 100. [36] Mark xi. 19. [37] "Sinai and Palestine," p. 165. [38] "On the wild uplands," says Mr Stanley, "which immediately overhangs the village, He finally withdrew from the eyes of His disciples, in a seclusion which, perhaps, could nowhere else be found so near the stir of a mighty city, the long ridge of Olivet screening those hills, and those hills the village beneath them, from all sight or sound of the city behind; the view opening only on the wide waste of desert rocks, and ever-descending valleys, into the depths of the distant Jordan and its mysterious lake. At this point the last interview took place. He led them out as far as to Bethany. The appropriateness of the whole scene presents a singular contrast to the inappropriateness of that fixed by a later fancy, 'Seeking for a sign' on the broad top of the mountain, out of sight of Bethany, and in full sight of Jerusalem, and thus an equal contradiction to the letter and the spirit of the Gospel narrative."--P. 192. The same writer, in another place (p. 450), says, "Even if the evangelist had been less explicit in stating that He led them out 'as far as to Bethany,' the secluded hills (that especially to which Tobler assigns the name of Djebel Sajach) which overhang that village on the eastern slope of Olivet, are evidently as appropriate to the whole tenor of the narrative, as the startling, the almost offensive publicity of the traditional spot, in the full view of the whole city of Jerusalem, is wholly inappropriate, and (in the absence, as it now appears, of even traditional support) wholly untenable." [39] Acts i. 5. [40] Acts i. 8. [41] John xvi. 7. [42] John xvi. 14. [43] Acts i. 6, 7. [44] Acts i. 8. [45] Luke xxiv. 50. [46] Ps. lxviii. 18. [47] Montgomery. [48] "Within and Without." [49] Acts i. 11. [50] Is it lawful to think of Bethany in connexion with the Church of the Future? Are there no foreshadowed glories found in the pages of Holy Writ, which include this lowly village--gilding it with the beams of a Millennial Sun? Is it destined to remain as it now is--a wreck of vanished loveliness? and is the crested ridge above it, which was the scene of the great terminating event of the Incarnation, to be associated with no other august displays of the Redeemer's power and majesty? The following remarkable prediction occurs in the prophet Zechariah:--"_And his feet shall stand in that day upon the mount of Olives, which is before Jerusalem on the east, and the mount of Olives shall cleave in the midst thereof toward the east and toward the west, and there shall be a very great valley; and half of the mountain shall remove toward the north, and half of it toward the south._" Zech. xiv. 4. Were we of the number of those--(perhaps some who read these pages)--who look with firm and joyful confidence to the Personal Reign of the Redeemer on earth, and who in their code of interpretation regarding unfulfilled prophecy, espouse the literal in preference to the spiritual meaning, we might here have an inviting picture presented to us of the BETHANY of the future. The Mount of Olives, by some great physical, or rather supernatural agency, is represented as heaving from its foundations, and parting in twain. The middle summit disappears. The remaining two form the steep sides of a new Valley, which, as it is spoken of as opening at Jerusalem (from Gethsemane), eastwards, the Vista must necessarily terminate with BETHANY; thus connecting the two most memorable spots associated with our Lord's humiliation. "His feet shall stand in that day on the _Mount of Olives_."--The once lowly Saviour again "stands" in power and great glory on the very spot over Bethany from which He formerly ascended. A new highway from the "Village of Palms" is made for His triumphal entrance to the Holy City, while the air resounds with the old welcome--"Rejoice, O daughter of Zion, behold thy King cometh!" If further we turn with the literalists to the majestic Temple-Visions of Ezekiel, we find the front of the newly-erected structure _facing up_ this valley; a new stream--(indeed a mighty river)--gushes down from the temple-colonnade, flowing through the same gorge, and discharging its purifying waters into the Dead Sea. (Verse 8, and Ezekiel xlvii. 1-12; Joel iii. 18. The reader is referred to these passages in full.) From the geographical position, this river must needs, in the course assigned to it, flow nigh to the restored palm-groves of _Bethany_--thus murmuring by scenes consecrated for centuries by the footsteps and tears of a weeping Saviour. But if we cannot participate in these gorgeous literal picturings, we are abundantly warranted to take the words of the Prophet as delineating the glorious results of the future _restoration_ of the Jews to their own Jerusalem. We can think of the City of the Great King raised from her desolation, "her walls salvation, and her gates praise." The Messiah, once rejected, now owned and welcomed--"the children of Zion joyful in their King." We can think of the valley which is to divide the Mount of _Olives_--(the mountain bedewed with the memory of the Saviour's _prayers_)--we can think of _that_ valley, and the stream which flows through it, as emblematic of spiritual blessings. "Ask of Me," says God, addressing His adorable Son, "and I will give Thee the heathen for thine inheritance." Is not the symbolic answer here given? The Mountain where the Saviour so "oft resorted" to "ask of His Father," is rent in sunder--every barrier to the progress of the truth is now swept away--the living stream of Gospel mercy issues from Zion (or rather, from Him who is the True Temple), that it may flow to the remotest nations of the earth! As it enters the bituminous waters of the Asphaltite Lake, it is represented as curing them of their bitterness (Ezek. xlvii. 8, 9); descriptive of the power of the Gospel, whose living streams, like the symbolic "leaves of the tree of life," are for "the healing of the nations." Then shall the words of Isaiah be fulfilled, "Every valley shall be exalted, and _every mountain and hill shall be made low_, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together." (Isa. xl. 4.) In the prophecy of Zechariah, to which we have just referred, we are told that in that same happy millennial period, the representatives of the world's nations will go up "year by year to worship the King, the Lord of Hosts, and to keep _the feast of Tabernacles_." (Zech. xiv. 16.) Who can tell but this may be a literal revival of the old Hebrew festival, only invested with a new Gospel and Christian meaning. "This feast," says a gifted expositor, "is the only unfulfilled one of the great feasts of Israel. _Passover_ was fulfilled at Christ's death, and _Pentecost_ at the outpouring of the Spirit. But this feast represents the LORD _tabernacling with men_, and is only fulfilled when '_The Lord my God shall come, and all the saints with Thee_.' On the Transfiguration-Hill, Peter, almost unwittingly, set forth this truth. He seemed to mean to say, 'Is not this the true joy of the Feast of Tabernacles? Is not the Lord here?'" If this be so, we can think of the palm-groves of Bethany again bared of their branches;--these waved in triumph as a new and nobler "Hosannah" awakes the ancient echoes of Olivet--"Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord!" As the regenerated children of Abraham build up the waste places in and around Zion, which for ages have been "without inhabitant," and whose names are still dear to them--think we, amid other scenes of hallowed interest, they will not love oftentimes to take the old "Sabbath-day's journey" to the site of "the Home of Mary and her sister Martha." While seated nigh the reputed burial-place, with the Gospel in their hands, reading, through their tears, the story of their fathers' impenitency, and of their Saviour's compassion and sympathy at the grave of His friend, will not a new and impressive truthfulness invest one of the old Bethany utterances, "THEN said the Jews, Behold how He loved him!" But these, after all, are merely speculative thoughts, on which we can build nothing. We have in these "Memories" to deal with the Bethany of the _past_, not with the imagined Bethany of the _future_. However pleasing, in connexion with the Honoured Village, these thoughts of a Millennial day may be, "nevertheless WE, according to His promise, rather look for _new_ Heavens and a _new_ Earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness." * * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES Page numbers refer to the original text. Footnote numbers refer to this transcribed version. Title page: Added missing quotation mark. p6: Retained spelling of "Perea" in text, and "Peræan" in quotation. p58: Hyphen added to "death-bed" for consistency. p119: Replaced "he" (referring to Jesus) with "He" twice. p188: Hyphen retained in "child-like" in quoted poem. p220: Inconsistent capitalisation of "Hosannahs" retained. p248: Used single quotes to clarify quotation within speech. Footnote 8 (referenced on p24): Missing full stop added. For consistency, various ellipses have been rendered as "..." 
42518	----	Transcriber's Notes: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=. Blank pages have been eliminated. Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the original. A few typographical errors have been corrected. _Funk & Wagnalls' Important Publications._ The Science of Politics. BY WALTER THOMAS MILLS, Secretary of the National Intercollegiate Association. A timely work for every citizen. The book is wholly practical and untechnical and is directly suited to the needs of every citizen. 12mo, cloth, 204 pages. Price, $1.00. Pres. Julius H. Seelye, of Amherst College, says: "With its clearness and force I am much pleased." Frances E. Willard says: "Mr. Mills has done an important service to the cause of good government by setting in a clear light before the citizen his personal relation to government by a political party. May his book have a million readers." Public Opinion, Washington, D. C., says: "The book is interesting and instructive, and the style is vigorous and refined." Foundation of Death. BY AXEL GUSTAFSON, the celebrated English Reformer. A practical study of the Drink Question. 12mo, cloth, $1.50. The Boston Transcript: The entire subject is handled in a most judicious manner, and we recommend the book as one of exceptional value in these times of alcoholic discussions. No advocate of temperance can do without it, for it is a compendium of the world's experience and the world's opinions. Nobody Knows. BY "A NOBODY." A treatise on applied Christianity under the guise of fiction. An original, interesting work. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. A book of great directness and earnestness, in which the hero brings about a moral and social reformation by a reconciliation between employer and employee, between the church and the masses. A model of terse epigrammatic English. Not a dull line in it. TALKS TO FARMERS. BY REV. CHARLES H. SPURGEON. NEW YORK: FUNK & WAGNALLS, PUBLISHERS, 18 AND 20 ASTOR PLACE. 1889. TABLE OF CONTENTS. PAGE THE SLUGGARD'S FARM, 1 THE BROKEN FENCE, 24 FROST AND THAW, 39 THE CORN OF WHEAT DYING TO BRING FORTH FRUIT, 56 THE PLOUGHMAN, 71 PLOUGHING THE ROCK, 88 THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER, 103 THE PRINCIPAL WHEAT, 118 SPRING IN THE HEART, 132 FARM LABORERS, 149 WHAT THE FARM LABORERS CAN DO, AND WHAT THEY CANNOT DO, 164 THE SHEEP BEFORE THE SHEARERS, 181 IN THE HAY-FIELD, 196 THE JOY OF HARVEST, 211 SPIRITUAL GLEANING, 226 MEAL-TIME IN THE CORNFIELDS, 241 THE LOADED WAGON, 258 THRESHING, 275 WHEAT IN THE BARN, 290 TALKS TO FARMERS. THE SLUGGARD'S FARM. "I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man void of understanding; And, lo, it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken down. Then I saw, and considered it well: I looked upon it, and received instruction."--PROVERBS 24:30-32. No doubt Solomon was sometimes glad to lay aside the robes of state, escape from the forms of court, and go through the country unknown. On one occasion, when he was doing so, he looked over the broken wall of a little estate which belonged to a farmer of his country. This estate consisted of a piece of ploughed land and a vineyard. One glance showed him that it was owned by a sluggard, who neglected it, for the weeds had grown right plentifully and covered all the face of the ground. From this Solomon gathered instruction. Men generally learn wisdom if they have wisdom. The artist's eye sees the beauty of the landscape because he has beauty in his mind. "To him that hath shall be given," and he shall have abundance, for he shall reap a harvest even from the field that is covered with thorns and nettles. There is a great difference between one man and another in the use of the mind's eye. I have a book entitled, "The Harvest of a Quiet Eye," and a good book it is: the harvest of a quiet eye can be gathered from a sluggard's land as well as from a well-managed farm. When we were boys we were taught a little poem, called, "Eyes and no Eyes," and there was much of truth in it, for some people have eyes and see not, which is much the same as having no eyes; while others have quick eyes for spying out instruction. Some look only at the surface, while others see not only the outside shell but the living kernel of truth which is hidden in all outward things. _We may find instruction everywhere._ To a spiritual mind nettles have their use, and weeds have their doctrine. Are not all thorns and thistles meant to be teachers to sinful men? Are they not brought forth of the earth on purpose that they may show us what sin has done, and the kind of produce that will come when we sow the seed of rebellion against God? "I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man void of understanding," says Solomon; "I saw, and considered it well: I looked upon it, and received instruction." Whatever you see, take care to consider it well, and you will not see it in vain. You shall find books and sermons everywhere, in the land and in the sea, in the earth and in the skies, and you shall learn from every living beast, and bird, and fish, and insect, and from every useful or useless plant that springs out of the ground. _We may also gather rare lessons from things that we do not like._ I am sure that Solomon did not in the least degree admire the thorns and the nettles that covered the face of the vineyard, but he nevertheless found instruction in them. Many are stung by nettles, but few are taught by them. Some men are hurt by briers, but here is one who was improved by them. Wisdom hath a way of gathering grapes of thorns and figs of nettles, and she distils good from herbs which in themselves are noisome and evil. Do not fret, therefore, over thorns, but get good out of them. Do not begin stinging yourself with nettles, grip them firmly, and then use them for your soul's health. Trials and troubles, worries and turmoils, little frets and little disappointments, may all help you if you will. Like Solomon, see and consider them well--look upon them, and receive instruction. As for us, we will now, first, consider _Solomon's description of a sluggard_: he is "a man void of understanding"; secondly, we shall notice _his description of the sluggard's land_: "it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof." When we have attended to these two matters we will close by _endeavoring to gather the instruction which this piece of waste ground may yield us_. First, think of SOLOMON'S DESCRIPTION OF A SLOTHFUL MAN. Solomon was a man whom none of us would contradict, for he knew as much as all of us put together; and besides that, he was under divine inspiration when he wrote this Book of Proverbs. Solomon says, a sluggard is "a man void of understanding." The slothful does not think so; he puts his hands in his pockets, and you would think from his important air that he had all the Bank of England at his disposal. You can see that he is a very wise man in his own esteem, for he gives himself airs which are meant to impress you with a sense of his superior abilities. How he has come by his wisdom it would be hard to say. He has never taken the trouble to think, and yet I dare not say that he jumps at his conclusions, because he never does such a thing as jump, he lies down and rolls into a conclusion. Yet he knows everything, and has settled all points: meditation is too hard work for him, and learning he never could endure; but to be clever by nature is his delight. He does not want to know more than he knows, for he knows enough already, and yet he knows nothing. The proverb is not complimentary to him, but I am certain that Solomon was right when he called him "a man void of understanding." Solomon was rather rude according to the dainty manners of the present times, because this gentleman had a field and a vineyard, and as Poor Richard saith, "When I have a horse and a cow every man biddeth me good morrow." How can a man be void of understanding who has a field and a vineyard? Is it not generally understood that you must measure a man's understanding by the amount of his ready cash? At all events you shall soon be flattered for your attainments if you have attained unto wealth. Such is the way of the world, but such is not the way of Scripture. Whether he has a field and a vineyard or not, says Solomon, if he is a sluggard he is a fool, or if you would like to see his name written out a little larger, he is a man empty of understanding. Not only does he not understand anything, but he has no understanding to understand with. He is empty-headed if he is a sluggard. He may be called a gentleman, he may be a landed proprietor, he may have a vineyard and a field; but he is none the better for what he has: nay, he is so much the worse, because he is a man void of understanding, and is therefore unable to make use of his property. I am glad to be told by Solomon so plainly that a slothful man is void of understanding, for it is useful information. I have met with persons who thought they perfectly understood the doctrines of grace, who could accurately set forth the election of the saints, the predestination of God, the firmness of the divine decree, the necessity of the Spirit's work, and all the glorious doctrines of grace which build up the fabric of our faith; but these gentlemen have inferred from these doctrines that they have to do nothing, and thus they have become sluggards. Do-nothingism is their creed. They will not even urge other people to labor for the Lord, because, say they, "God will do his own work. Salvation is all of grace!" The notion of these sluggards is that a man is to wait, and do nothing; he is to sit still, and let the grass grow up to his ankles in the hope of heavenly help. To arouse himself would be an interference with the eternal purpose, which he regards as altogether unwarrantable. I have known him look sour, shake his aged head, and say hard things against earnest people who were trying to win souls. I have known him run down young people, and like a great steam ram, sink them to the bottom, by calling them unsound and ignorant. How shall we survive the censures of this dogmatic person? How shall we escape from this very knowing and very captious sluggard? Solomon hastens to the rescue and extinguishes this gentleman by informing us that he is void of understanding. Why, he is the standard of orthodoxy, and he judges everybody! Yet Solomon applies another standard to him, and says he is void of understanding. He may know the doctrine, but he does not understand it; or else he would know that the doctrines of grace lead us to seek the grace of the doctrines; and that when we see God at work we learn that he worketh in us, not to make us go to sleep, but to will and to do of his own good pleasure. God's predestination of a people is his ordaining them unto good works that they may show forth his praise. So, if you or I shall from any doctrines, however true, draw the inference that we are warranted in being idle and indifferent about the things of God, we are void of understanding; we are acting like fools; we are misusing the gospel; we are taking what was meant for meat and turning it into poison. The sluggard, whether he is sluggish about his business or about his soul, is a man void of understanding. As a rule we may measure a man's understanding by his useful activities; this is what the wise man very plainly tells us. Certain persons call themselves "cultured," and yet they cultivate nothing. Modern thought, as far as I have seen anything of its actual working, is a bottle of smoke, out of which comes nothing solid; yet we know men who can distinguish and divide, debate and discuss, refine and refute, and all the while the hemlock is growing in the furrow, and the plough is rusting. Friend, if your knowledge, if your culture, if your education does not lead you practically to serve God in your day and generation, you have not learned what Solomon calls wisdom, and you are not like the Blessed One, who was incarnate wisdom, of whom we read that "he went about doing good." A lazy man is not like our Saviour, who said, "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work." True wisdom is practical: boastful culture vapors and theorizes. Wisdom ploughs its field, wisdom hoes its vineyard, wisdom looks to its crops, wisdom tries to make the best of everything; and he who does not do so, whatever may be his knowledge of this, of that, or of the other, is a man void of understanding. Why is he void of understanding? Is it not because _he has opportunities which he does not use_? His day has come, his day is going, and he lets the hours glide by to no purpose. Let me not press too hardly upon any one, but let me ask you all to press as hardly as you can upon yourselves while you enquire each one of himself, Am I employing the minutes as they fly? This man had a vineyard, but he did not cultivate it; he had a field, but he did not till it. Do you, brethren, use all your opportunities? I know we each one have some power to serve God; do we use it? If we are his children he has not put one of us where we are of necessity useless. Somewhere we may shine by the light which he has given us, though that light be only a farthing candle. Are we thus shining? Do we sow beside all waters? Do we in the morning sow our seed, and in the evening still stretch out our hand? for if not, we are rebuked by the sweeping censure of Solomon, who saith that the slothful is a "man void of understanding." Having opportunities he did not use them, and next, _being bound to the performance of certain duties he did not fulfil them_. When God appointed that every Israelite should have a piece of land, under that admirable system which made every Israelite a land owner, he meant that each man should possess his plot, not to let it lie waste, but to cultivate it. When God put Adam in the garden of Eden it was not that he should walk through the glades and watch the spontaneous luxuriance of the unfallen earth, but that he might dress it and keep it, and he had the same end in view when he allotted each Jew his piece of land; he meant that the holy soil should reach the utmost point of fertility through the labor of those who owned it. Thus the possession of a field and a vineyard involved responsibilities upon the sluggard which he never fulfilled, and therefore he was void of understanding. What is your position, dear friend? A father? A master? A servant? A minister? A teacher? Well, you have your farms and your vineyards in those particular spheres; but if you do not use those positions aright you will be void of understanding, because you neglect the end of your existence. You miss the high calling which your Maker has set before you. The slothful farmer was unwise in these two respects, and in another also; _for he had capacities which he did not employ_. He could have tilled the field and cultivated the vineyard if he had chosen to do so. He was not a sickly man, who was forced to keep his bed, but he was a lazy-bones who was there of choice. You are not asked to do in the service of God that which is utterly beyond you, for it is expected of us according to what we have and not according to what we have not. The man of two talents is not required to bring in the interest of five, but he is expected to bring in the interest of two. Solomon's slothful was too idle to attempt tasks which were quite within his power. Many have a number of dormant faculties of which they are scarcely aware, and many more have abilities which they are using for themselves, and not for Him who created them. Dear friends, if God has given us any power to do good, pray let us do it, for this is a wicked, weary world. We should not even cover a glow-worm's light in such a darkness as this. We should not keep back a syllable of divine truth in a world that is so full of falsehood and error. However feeble our voices, let us lift them up for the cause of truth and righteousness. Do not let us be void of understanding, because we have opportunities that we do not use, obligations that we do not fulfil, and capacities which we do not exercise. As for a sluggard in soul matters, he is indeed void of understanding, for _he trifles with matters which demand his most earnest heed_. Man, hast thou never cultivated thy heart? Hast the ploughshare never broken up the clods of thy soul? Has the seed of the Word never been sown in thee? or has it taken no root? Hast thou never watered the young plants of desire? Hast thou never sought to pull up the weeds of sin that grow in thy heart? Art thou still a piece of the bare common or wild heath? Poor soul! Thou canst trim thy body, and spend many a minute at the glass; dost thou not care for thy soul? How long thou takest to decorate thy poor flesh, which is but worm's meat, or would be in a minute if God took away thy breath! And yet all the while thy soul is uncombed, unwashed, unclad, a poor neglected thing. Oh it should not be so. You take care of the worse part and leave the better to perish through neglect. This is the height of folly! He that is a sluggard as to the vineyard of his heart is a man void of understanding. If I must be idle, let it be seen in my field and my garden, but not in my soul. Or are you a Christian? Are you really saved, and are you negligent in the Lord's work? Then, indeed, whatever you may be, I cannot help saying you have too little understanding; for surely, when a man is saved himself, and understands the danger of other men's souls, he must be in earnest in trying to pluck the firebrands from the flame. A Christian sluggard! Is there such a being? A _Christian_ man on half time? A Christian man working not at all for his Lord; how shall I speak of him? _Time_ does not tarry, DEATH does not tarry, HELL does not tarry; Satan is not lazy, all the powers of darkness are busy: how is it that you and I can be sluggish, if the Master has put us into his vineyard? Surely we must be void of understanding if, after being saved by the infinite love of God, we do not spend and be spent in his service. The eternal fitness of things demands that a saved man should be an earnest man. The Christian who is slothful in his Master's service _has no idea what he is losing_; for the very cream of religion lies in holy consecration to God. Some people have just enough religion to make it questionable whether they have any or no. They have enough godliness to make them uneasy in their ungodliness. They have washed enough of their face to show the dirt upon the rest of it. "I am glad," said a servant, "that my mistress takes the sacrament, for otherwise I should not know she had any religion at all." You smile, and well you may. It is ridiculous that some people should have no goods in their shop, and yet advertise their business in all the papers; should make a show of religion, and yet have none of the Spirit of God. I wish some professors would do Christ the justice to say, "No, I am _not_ one of his disciples; do not think so badly of him as to imagine that I can be one of them." We ought to be reflections _of_ Christ; but I fear many are reflections _upon_ Christ. When we see a lot of lazy servants, we are apt to think that their master must be a very idle person himself, or he would never put up with them. He who employs sluggards, and is satisfied with their snail-like pace, cannot be a very active man himself. O, let not the world think that Christ is indifferent to human woe, that Christ has lost his zeal, that Christ has lost his energy: yet I fear they will say it or think it if they see those who profess to be laborers in the vineyard of Christ nothing better than mere sluggards. The slothful, then, is a man void of understanding; he loses the honor and pleasure which he would find in serving his Master; he is a dishonor to the cause which he professes to venerate, and he is storing up thorns for his dying pillow. Let that stand as settled--the slothful, whether he be a minister, deacon, or private Christian, is a man void of understanding. Now, secondly, LET US LOOK AT THE SLUGGARD'S LAND: "I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man void of understanding; And, lo, it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof." Note, first, that _land will produce something_. Soil which is good enough to be made into a field and a vineyard must and will yield some fruit or other; and so you and I, in our hearts and in the sphere God gives us to occupy, will be sure to produce something. We cannot live in this world as entire blanks; we shall either do good or do evil, as sure as we are alive. If you are idle in Christ's work, you are active in the devil's work. The sluggard by sleeping was doing more for the cultivation of thorns and nettles than he could have done by any other means. As a garden will either yield flowers or weeds, fruits or thistles, so something either good or evil will come out of our household, our class, or our congregation. If we do not produce a harvest of good wheat, by laboring for Christ, we shall grow tares to be bound up in bundles for the last dread burning. Note again that, if it be not farmed for God, _the soul will yield its natural produce_; and what is the natural produce of land if left to itself? What but thorns and nettles, or some other useless weeds? What is the natural produce of your heart and mine? What but sin and misery? What is the natural produce of your children if you leave them untrained for God? What but unholiness and vice? What is the natural produce of this great city if we leave its streets, and lanes, and alleys without the gospel? What but crime and infamy? Some harvest there will be, and the sheaves will be the natural produce of the soil, which is sin, death, and corruption. If we are slothful, _the natural produce of our heart and of our sphere will be most inconvenient and unpleasant to ourselves_. Nobody can sleep on thorns, or make a pillow of nettles. No rest can come out of an idleness which lets ill alone, and does not by God's Spirit strive to uproot evil. While you are sleeping, Satan will be sowing. If you withhold the seed of good, Satan will be lavish with the seed of evil, and from that evil will come anguish and regret for time, and it may be for eternity. O man, the garden put into thy charge, if thou waste thy time in slumber, will reward thee with all that is noisome and painful. "Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee." _In many instances there will be a great deal of this evil produce_; for a field and a vineyard will yield more thistles and nettles than a piece of ground that has never been reclaimed. If the land is good enough for a garden, it will present its owner with a fine crop of weeds if he only stays his hand. A choice bit of land fit for a vineyard of red wine will render such a profusion of nettles to the slothful that he shall rub his eyes with surprise. The man who might do most for God, if he were renewed, will bring forth most for Satan if he be let alone. The very region which would have glorified God most if the grace of God were there to convert its inhabitants, will be that out of which the vilest enemies of the gospel will arise. Rest assured of that; the best will become the worst if we neglect it. Neglect is all that is needed to produce evil. If you want to know the way of salvation, I must take some pains to tell you; but if you want to know the way to be lost, my reply is easy; for it is only a matter of negligence:--"How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?" If you desire to bring forth a harvest unto God, I may need long to instruct you in ploughing, sowing, and watering; but if you wish your mind to be covered with Satan's hemlock, you have only to leave the furrows of your nature to themselves. The slothful asks for "A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep," and the thorns and thistles multiply beyond all numbering, and prepare for him many a sting. While we look upon the lazy man's vineyard let us also peep into the ungodly sluggard's heart. He does not care about repentance and faith. To think about his soul, to be in earnest about eternity, is too much for him. He wants to take things easy, and have a little more folding of the arms to sleep. What is growing in his mind and character? In some of these spiritual sluggards you can see drunkenness, uncleanness, covetousness, anger, and pride, and all sorts of thistles and nettles; or where these ranker weeds do not appear, by reason of the restraint of pious connections, you find other sorts of sin. The heart cannot be altogether empty, either Christ or the devil will possess it. My dear friend, if you are not decided for God, you cannot be a neutral. In this war every man is for God or for his enemy. You cannot remain like a sheet of blank paper. The legible handwriting of Satan is upon you--can you not see the blots? Unless Christ has written across the page his own sweet name, the autograph of Satan is visible. You may say, "I do not go into open sin; I am moral," and so forth. Ah, if you would but look, and consider, and search into your heart, you would see that enmity to God and to his ways, and hatred of purity, are there. You do not love God's law, nor love his Son, nor love his gospel, you are alienated in your heart, and there is in you all manner of evil desires and vain thoughts, and these will flourish and increase so long as you are a spiritual sluggard, and leave your heart uncultivated. O, may the Spirit of God arouse you; may you be stirred to anxious, earnest thought, and then you will see that these rank growths must be uprooted, and that your heart must be turned up by the plough of conviction, and sown with the good seed of the gospel, till a harvest rewards the great Husbandman. Friend, if you believe in Christ, I want to peep over the hedge into _your heart_ also, if you are a sluggish Christian; for I fear that nettles and thistles are threatening you also. Did I not hear you sing the other day-- "'Tis a point I long to know"? That point will often be raised, for doubt is a seed which is sure to grow in lazy men's minds. I do not remember reading in Mr. Wesley's diary a question about his own salvation. He was so busy in the harvest of the Master that it did not occur to him to distrust his God. Some Christians have little faith in consequence of their having never sown the grain of mustard-seed which they have received. If you do not sow your faith by using it, how can it grow? When a man lives by faith in Christ Jesus, and his faith exercises itself actively in the service of his Lord, it takes root, grows upward, and become strong, till it chokes his doubts. Some have sadly morbid forebodings; they are discontented, fretful, selfish, murmuring, and all because they are idle. These are the weeds that grow in sluggards' gardens. I have known the slothful become so peevish that nothing could please them; the most earnest Christian could not do right for them; the most loving Christians could not be affectionate enough; the most active church could not be energetic enough; they detected all sorts of wrong where God himself saw much of the fruit of his Spirit. This censoriousness, this contention, this perpetual complaining is one of the nettles that are quite sure to grow in men's gardens when they fold their arms in sinful ease. If your heart does not yield fruit to God it will certainly bring forth that which is mischievous in itself, painful to you, and injurious to your fellow-men. Often the thorns choke the good seed; but it is a very blessed thing when the good seed comes up so thick and fast that it chokes the thorns. God enables certain Christians to become so fruitful in Christ that their graces and works stand thick together, and when Satan throws in the tares they cannot grow because there is no room for them. The Holy Spirit by his power makes evil to become weak in the heart, so that it no longer keeps the upper hand. If you are slothful, friend, look over the field of your heart, and weep at the sight. May I next ask you to look into _your own house_ and home? It is a dreadful thing when a man does not cultivate the field of his own family. I recollect in my early days a man who used to walk out with me into the villages when I was preaching. I was glad of his company till I found out certain facts, and then I shook him off, and I believe he hooked on to somebody else, for he must needs be gadding abroad every evening of the week. He had many children, and these grew up to be wicked young men and women, and the reason was that the father, while he would be at this meeting and that, never tried to bring his own children to the Saviour. What is the use of zeal abroad if there is neglect at home? How sad to say, "My own vineyard have I not kept." Have you never heard of one who said he did not teach his children the ways of God because he thought they were so young that it was very wrong to prejudice them, and he had rather leave them to choose their own religion when they grew older? One of his boys broke his arm, and while the surgeon was setting it the boy was swearing all the time. "Ah," said the good doctor, "I told you what would happen. You were afraid to prejudice your boy in the right way, but the devil had no such qualms; he has prejudiced him the other way, and pretty strongly too." It is our duty to prejudice our field in favor of corn, or it will soon be covered with thistles. Cultivate a child's heart for good, or it will go wrong of itself, for it is already depraved by nature. O that we were wise enough to think of this, and leave no little one to become a prey to the destroyer. As it is with homes, so is it with _schools_. A gentleman who joined this church some time ago had been an atheist for years, and in conversing with him I found that he had been educated at one of our great public schools, and to that fact he traced his infidelity. He said that the boys were stowed away on Sunday in a lofty gallery at the far end of a church, where they could scarcely hear a word that the clergyman said, but simply sat imprisoned in a place where it was dreadfully hot in summer and cold in winter. On Sundays there were prayers, and prayers, and prayers, but nothing that ever touched his heart; until he was so sick of prayers that he vowed if he once got out of the school he would have done with religion. This is a sad result, but a frequent one. You Sunday-school teachers can make your classes so tiresome to the children that they will hate Sunday. You can fritter away the time in school without bringing the lads and lasses to Christ, and so you may do more hurt than good. I have known Christian fathers who by their severity and want of tenderness have sown their family field with the thorns and thistles of hatred to religion instead of scattering the good seed of love to it. O that we may so live among our children that they may not only love us, but love our Father who is in heaven. May fathers and mothers set such an example of cheerful piety that sons and daughters shall say, "Let us tread in our father's footsteps, for he was a happy and a holy man. Let us follow our mother's ways, for she was sweetness itself." If piety does not rule in your house, when we pass by your home we shall see disorder, disobedience, pride of dress, folly, and the beginnings of vice. Let not your home be a sluggard's field, or you will have to rue it in years to come. Let every deacon, every class-leader, and also every minister enquire diligently into the state of the field he has to cultivate. You see, brothers and sisters, if you and I are set over any department of our Lord's work, and we are not diligent in it, we shall be like barren trees planted in an orchard, which are a loss altogether, because they occupy the places of other trees which might have brought forth fruit unto their owners. We shall cumber the ground, and do damage to our Lord, unless we render him actual service. Will you think of this? If you could be put down as a mere cipher in the accounts of Christ, that would be very sad; but, brother, it cannot be so, you will cause a deficit unless you create a gain. Oh that through the grace of God we may be profitable to our Lord and Master! Who among us can look upon his life-work without some sorrow? If anything has been done aright we ascribe it all to the grace of God; but how much there is to weep over! How much that we would wish to amend! Let us not spend time in idle regrets, but pray for the Spirit of God, that in the future we may not be void of understanding, but may know what we ought to do, and where the strength must come from with which to do it, and then give ourselves up to the doing of it. I beg you once more to look at the great field of _the world_. Do you see how it is overgrown with thorns and nettles? If an angel could take a survey of the whole race, what tears he would shed, if angels could weep! What a tangled mass of weeds the whole earth is! Yonder the field is scarlet with the poppy of popery, and over the hedge it is yellow with the wild mustard of Mahometanism. Vast regions are smothered with the thistles of infidelity and idolatry. The world is full of cruelty, oppression, drunkenness, rebellion, uncleanness, misery. What the moon sees! What God's sun sees! What scenes of horror! How far is all this to be attributed to a neglectful church? Nearly nineteen hundred years are gone, and the sluggard's vineyard is but little improved! England has been touched with the spade, but I cannot say that it has been thoroughly weeded or ploughed yet. Across the ocean another field equally favored knows well the ploughman, and yet the weeds are rank. Here and there a little good work has been done, but the vast mass of the world still lies a moorland never broken up, a waste, a howling wilderness. What has the church been doing all these years? She ceased after a few centuries to be a missionary church, and from that hour she almost ceased to be a living church. Whenever a church does not labor for the reclaiming of the desert, it becomes itself a waste. You shall not find on the roll of history that for a length of time any Christian community has flourished after it has become negligent of the outside world. I believe that if we are put into the Master's vineyard, and will not take away the weeds, neither shall the vine flourish, nor shall the corn yield its increase. However, instead of asking what the church has been doing for this nineteen hundred years, let us ask ourselves, What are we going to do now? Are the missions of the churches of Great Britain always to be such poor, feeble things as they are? Are the best of our Christian young men always going to stay at home? We go on ploughing the home field a hundred times over, while millions of acres abroad are left to the thorn and nettle. Shall it always be so? God send us more spiritual life, and wake us up from our sluggishness, or else when the holy watcher gives in his report, he will say, "I went by the field of the sluggish church, and it was all grown over with thorns and nettles, and the stone wall was broken down, so that one could scarcely tell which was the church and which was the world, yet still she slept, and slept, and slept, and nothing could waken her." I conclude by remarking that THERE MUST BE SOME LESSON IN ALL THIS. I cannot teach it as I would, but I want to learn it myself. I will speak it as though I were talking to myself. The first lesson is, that _unaided nature always will produce thorns and nettles, and nothing else_. My soul, if it were not for grace, this is all thou wouldst have produced. Beloved, are you producing anything else? Then it is not nature, but the grace of God that makes you produce it. Those lips that now most charmingly sing the praises of God would have been delighted with an idle ballad if the grace of God had not sanctified them. Your heart, that now cleaves to Christ, would have continued to cling to your idols--you know what they were--if it had not been for grace divine. And why should grace have visited you or me--why? Echo answers, Why? What answer can we give? "'Tis even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight." Let the recollection of what grace has done move us to manifest the result of that grace in our lives. Come, brothers and sisters, inasmuch as we were aforetime rich enough in the soil of our nature to produce so much of nettle and thistle--and God only knows how much we did produce--let us now pray that our lives may yield as much of good corn for the great Husbandman. Will you serve Christ less than you served your lusts? Will you make less sacrifice for Christ than you did for your sins? Some of you were whole-hearted enough when in the service of the evil one, will you be half-hearted in the service of God? Shall the Holy Spirit produce less fruit in you than that which you yielded under the spirit of evil? God grant that we may not be left to prove what nature will produce if left to itself. We see here, next, _the little value of natural good intentions_; for this man, who left his field and vineyard to be overgrown, always meant to work hard one of these fine days. To do him justice, we must admit that he did not mean to sleep much longer, for he said--"Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep." Only a little doze, and then he would tuck up his sleeves and show his muscle. Probably the worst people in the world are those who have the best intentions, but never carry them out. In that way Satan lulls many to sleep. They hear an earnest sermon; but they do not arise and go to their Father; they only get as far as saying, "Yes, yes, the far country is not a fit place for me; I will not stay here long. I mean to go home by-and-by." They said that forty years ago, but nothing came of it. When they were quite youths they had serious impressions, they were almost persuaded to be Christians, and yet they are not Christians even now. They have been slumbering forty years! Surely that is a liberal share of sleep! They never intended to dream so long, and now they do not mean to lie in bed much longer. They will not turn to Christ at once, but they are resolved to do so one day. When are you going to do it, friend? "Before I die." Going to put it off to the last hour or two, are you? And so, when unconscious, and drugged to relieve pain, you will begin to think of your soul? Is this wise? Surely you are void of understanding. Perhaps you will die in an hour. Did you not hear the other day of the alderman who died in his carriage? Little must he have dreamed of that. How would it have fared with you had you also been smitten while riding at your ease? Have you not heard of persons who fall dead at their work? What is to hinder your dying with a spade in your hand? I am often startled when I am told in the week that one whom I saw on Sunday is dead--gone from the shop to the judgment-seat. It is not a very long time ago since one went out at the doorway of the Tabernacle, and fell dead on the threshold. We have had deaths in the house of God, unexpected deaths; and sometimes people are hurried away unprepared who never meant to have died unconverted, who always had from their youth up some kind of desire to be ready, only still they wanted a little more sleep. Oh, my hearers, take heed of little delays, and short puttings-off. You have wasted time enough already, come to the point at once before the clock strikes again. May God the Holy Spirit bring you to decision. "Surely you do not object to my having a little more sleep?" says the sluggard. "You have waked me so soon. I only ask another little nap." "My dear man, it is far into the morning." He answers, "It is rather late, I know; but it will not be much later if I take just another doze." You wake him again, and tell him it is noon. He says, "It is the hottest part of the day: I daresay if I had been up I should have gone to the sofa and taken a little rest from the hot sun." You knock at his door when it is almost evening, and then he cries, "It is of no use to get up now, for the day is almost over." You remind him of his overgrown field and weedy vineyard, and he answers, "Yes, I must get up, I know." He shakes himself and says, "I do not think it will matter much if I wait till the clock strikes. I will rest another minute or two." He is glued to his bed, dead while he liveth, buried in his laziness. If he could sleep forever he would, but he cannot, for the judgment-day will rouse him. It is written, "And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torment." God grant that you spiritual sluggards may wake before that; but you will not unless you bestir yourselves betimes, for "now is the accepted time"; and it may be now or never. To-morrow is only to be found in the calendar of fools; to-day is the time of the wise man, the chosen season of our gracious God. Oh that the Holy Spirit may lead you to seize the present hour, that you may at once give yourselves to the Lord by faith in Christ Jesus, and then from his vineyard-- "Quick uproot The noisome weeds, that without profit suck The soil's fertility from wholesome plants." THE BROKEN FENCE. "I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man void of understanding; and lo, it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and _the stone wall thereof was broken down_. Then I saw, and considered it well: I looked upon it and received instruction."--PROVERBS 24:30-32. THIS slothful man did no hurt to his fellow-men: he was not a thief, nor a ruffian, nor a meddler in anybody else's business. He did not trouble himself about other men's concerns, for he did not even attend to his own--it required too much exertion. He was not grossly vicious; he had not energy enough to care for that. He was one who liked to take things easily. He always let well alone, and, for the matter of that, he let ill alone, too, as the nettles and the thistles in his garden plainly proved. What was the use of disturbing himself? It would be all the same a hundred years hence; and so he took things just as they came. He was not a bad man, so some said of him; and yet, perhaps, it will be found at last that there is no worse man in the world than the man who is not good, for in some respects he is not good enough to be bad; he has not enough force of character about him to serve either God or Baal. He simply serves himself, worshipping his own ease and adoring his own comfort. Yet he always meant to be right. Dear me! he was not going to sleep much longer, he would only have forty winks more, and then he would be at his work, and show you what he could do. One of these days he meant to be thoroughly in earnest, and make up for lost time. The time never actually came for him to begin, but it was always coming. He always meant to repent, but he went on in his sin. He meant to believe, but he died an unbeliever. He meant to be a Christian, but he lived without Christ. He halted between two opinions because he could not trouble himself to make up his mind; and so he perished of delay. This picture of the slothful man and his garden and field overgrown with nettles and weeds represents many a man who has professed to be a Christian, but who has become slothful in the things of God. Spiritual life has withered in him. He has backslidden; he has come down from the condition of healthy spiritual energy into one of listlessness, and indifference to the things of God; and while things have gone wrong within his heart, and all sorts of mischiefs have come into him and grown up and seeded themselves in him, mischief is also taking place externally in his daily conduct. The stone wall which guarded his character is broken down, and he lies open to all evil. Upon this point we will now meditate. "The stone wall thereof was broken down." Come, then, let us take a walk with Solomon, and stand with him and consider and learn instruction while we _look at this broken-down fence_. When we have examined it, let us _consider the consequences of broken-down walls_; and then, in the last place, let us try to _rouse up this sluggard that his wall may yet be repaired_. If this slothful person should be one of ourselves, may God's infinite mercy rouse us up before this ruined wall has let in a herd of prowling vices. I. First let us take a LOOK AT THIS BROKEN FENCE. You will see that in the beginning it was a very good fence, for it was a stone wall. Fields are often surrounded with wooden palings which soon decay, or with hedges which may very easily have gaps made in them; but this was a stone wall. Such walls are very usual in the East, and are also common in some of our own counties where stone is plentiful. It was a substantial protection to begin with, and well shut in the pretty little estate which had fallen into such bad hands. The man had a field for agricultural purposes, and another strip of land for a vineyard or a garden. It was fertile soil, for it produced thorns and nettles in abundance, and where these flourish better things can be produced; yet the idler took no care of his property, but allowed the wall to get into bad repair, and in many places to be quite broken down. Let me mention some of the stone walls that men permit to be broken down when they backslide. In many cases _sound principles were instilled in youth_, but these are forgotten. What a blessing is Christian education! Our parents, both by persuasion and example, taught many of us the things that are pure and honest, and of good repute. We saw in their lives how to live. They also opened the word of God before us, and they taught us the ways of right both toward God and toward men. They prayed for us, and they prayed with us, till the things of God were placed round about us and shut us in as with a stone wall. We have never been able to get rid of our early impressions. Even in times of wandering, before we knew the Lord savingly, these things had a healthy power over us; we were checked when we would have done evil, we were assisted when we were struggling toward Christ. It is very sad when people permit these first principles to be shaken, and to be removed like stones which fall from a boundary wall. Young persons begin at first to talk lightly of the old-fashioned ways of their parents. By-and-by it is not merely the old-fashionedness of the ways, but the ways themselves that they despise. They seek other company, and from that other company they learn nothing but evil. They seek pleasure in places which it horrifies their parents to think of. This leads to worse, and if they do not bring their fathers' gray hairs with sorrow to the grave it is no virtue of theirs. I have known young men, who really were Christians, sadly backslide through being induced to modify, conceal, or alter those holy principles in which they were trained from their mother's knee. It is a great calamity when professedly converted men become unfixed, unstable, and carried about with every wind of doctrine. It shows great faultiness of mind, and unsoundness of heart, when we can trifle with those grave and solemn truths which have been sanctified by a mother's tears and by a father's earnest life. "I am thy servant," said David, "and the son of thy handmaid": he felt it to be a high honor, and, at the same time, a sacred bond which bound him to God, that he was the son of one who could be called God's handmaid. Take care, you who have had Christian training, that you do not trifle with it. "My son, keep thy father's commandment, and forsake not the law of thy mother: bind them continually upon thine heart, and tie them about thy neck." Protection to character is also found in the fact that _solid doctrines have been learned_. This is a fine stone wall. Many among us have been taught the gospel of the grace of God, and they have learned it well, so that they are able to contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints. Happy are they who have a religion that is grounded upon a clear knowledge of eternal verities. A religion which is all excitement, and has little instruction in it, may serve for transient use; but for permanent life-purposes there must be a knowledge of those great doctrines which are fundamental to the gospel system. I tremble when I hear of a man's giving up, one by one, the vital principles of the gospel and boasting of his liberality. I hear him say, "These are my views, but others have a right to their views also." That is a very proper expression in reference to mere "views," but we may not thus speak of _truth_ itself as revealed by God: that is one and unalterable, and all are bound to receive it. It is not your view of truth, for that is a dim thing; but the very truth itself which will save you if your faith embraces it. I will readily yield my way of stating a doctrine, but not the doctrine itself. One man may put it in this way, and one in another; but the truth itself must never be given up. The spirit of the Broad School robs us of everything like certainty. I should like to ask some great men of that order whether they believe that anything is taught in the Scriptures which it would be worth while for a person to die for, and whether the martyrs were not great fools for laying down their lives for mere opinions which might be right or might be wrong. This Broad-churchism is a breaking down of stone walls, and it will let in the devil and all his crew, and do infinite harm to the church of God, if it be not stopped. A loose state of belief does great damage to any man's mind. We are not bigots, but we should be none the worse if we so lived that men called us so. I met a man the other day who was accused of bigotry, and I said, "Give me your hand, old fellow. I like to meet with bigots now and then, for the fine old creatures are getting scarce, and the stuff they are made of is so good that if there were more of it we might see a few men among us again and fewer mollusks." Lately we have seen few men with backbone; the most have been of the jelly-fish order. I have lived in times in which I should have said, "Be liberal, and shake off all narrowness": but now I am obliged to alter my tone and cry, "Be steadfast in the truth." The faith once delivered to the saints is now all the more attractive to me because it is called narrow, for I am weary of that breadth which comes of broken hedges. There are fixed points of truth, and definite certainties of creed, and woe to you if you allow these stone walls to crumble down. I fear me that the slothful are a numerous band, and that ages to come may have to deplore the laxity which has been applauded by this negligent generation. Another fence which is too often neglected is that of _godly habits which had been formed_: the sluggard allows this wall to be broken down. I will mention some valuable guards of life and character. One is the habit of _secret prayer_. Private prayer should be regularly offered, at least in the morning and in the evening. We cannot do without set seasons for drawing near to God. To look into the face of man without having first seen the face of God is very dangerous: to go out into the world without locking up the heart and giving God the key is to leave it open to all sorts of spiritual vagrants. At night, again, to go to your rest as the swine roll into their sty, without thanking God for the mercies of the day, is shameful. The evening sacrifice should be devoutly offered as surely as we have enjoyed the evening fireside: we should thus put ourselves under the wings of the Preserver of men. It may be said, "We can pray at all times." I know we can: but I fear that those who do not pray at stated hours seldom pray at all. Those who pray in season are the most likely persons to pray at all seasons. Spiritual life does not care for a cast-iron regulation, but since life casts itself into some mould or other, I would have you careful of its external habit as well as its internal power. Never allow great gaps in the wall of your habitual private prayer. I go a step farther; I believe that there is a great guardian power about _family prayer_, and I feel greatly distressed because I know that very many Christian families neglect it. Romanism, at one time, could do nothing in England, because it could offer nothing but the shadow of what Christian men had already in substance. "Do you hear that bell tinkling in the morning?" "What is that for?" "To go to church to pray." "Indeed," said the Puritan, "I have no need to go there to pray. I have had my children together, and we have read a passage of Scripture, and prayed, and sang the praises of God, and we have a church in our house." Ah, there goes that bell again in the evening. What is that for? Why, it is the vesper bell. The good man answered that he had no need to trudge a mile or two for that, for his holy vespers had been said and sung around his own table, of which the big Bible was the chief ornament. They told him that there could be no service without a priest, but he replied that every godly man should be a priest in his own house. Thus have the saints defied the overtures of priestcraft, and kept the faith from generation to generation. Household devotion and the pulpit are, under God, the stone walls of Protestantism, and my prayer is that these may not be broken down. Another fence to protect piety is found in _week-night services_. I notice that when people forsake week-night meetings the power of their religion evaporates. I do not speak of those lawfully detained to watch the sick, and attend to farm-work and other business, or as domestic servants and the like; there are exceptions to all rules: but I mean those who could attend if they had a mind to do so. When people say, "It is quite enough for me to be wearied with the sermons of the Sunday; I do not want to go out to prayer-meetings, and lectures, and so forth,"--then it is clear that they have no appetite for the word; and surely this is a bad sign. If you have a bit of wall built to protect the Sunday and then six times the distance left without a fence, I believe that Satan's cattle will get in and do no end of mischief. Take care, also, of the stone wall of _Bible reading_, and of speaking often one to another concerning the things of God. Associate with the godly, and commune with God, and you will thus, by the blessing of God's Spirit, keep up a good fence against temptations, which otherwise will get into the fields of your soul, and devour all goodly fruits. Many have found much protection for the field of daily life in the stone wall of _a public profession of faith_. I am speaking to you who are real believers, and I know that you have often found it a great safeguard to be known and recognized as a follower of Jesus. I have never regretted--and I never shall regret--the day on which I walked to the little river Lark, in Cambridgeshire, and was there buried with Christ in baptism. In this I acted contrary to the opinions of all my friends whom I respected and esteemed, but as I had read the Greek Testament for myself, I felt bound to be immersed upon the profession of my faith, and I was so. By that act I said to the world, "I am dead to you, and buried to you in Christ, and I hope henceforth to live in newness of life." That day, by God's grace, I imitated the tactics of the general who meant to fight the enemy till he conquered, and therefore he burned his boats that there might be no way of retreat. I believe that a solemn confession of Christ before men is as a thorn hedge to keep one within bounds, and to keep off those who hope to draw you aside. Of course it is nothing but a hedge, and it is of no use to fence in a field of weeds, but when wheat is growing a hedge is of great consequence. You who imagine that you can be the Lord's, and yet lie open like a common, are under a great error; you ought to be distinguished from the world, and obey the voice which saith, "Come ye out from among them, be ye separate." The promise of salvation is to the man who with his heart believeth and with his mouth confesseth. Say right boldly, "Let others do as they will; as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." By this act you come out into the king's highway, and put yourself under the protection of the Lord of pilgrims, and he will take care of you. Oftentimes, when otherwise you might have hesitated, you will say, "The vows of the Lord are upon me: how can I draw back?" I pray you, then, set up the stone wall, and keep it up, and if it has at any corner been tumbled over, set it up again, and let it be seen by your conduct and conversation that you are a follower of Jesus, and are not ashamed to have it known. Keep to your religious principles like men, and do not turn aside for the sake of gain, or respectability. Do not let wealth break down your wall, for I have known some make a great gap to let their carriage go through, and to let in wealthy worldlings for the sake of their society. Those who forsake their principles to please men will in the end be lightly esteemed, but he who is faithful shall have the honor which cometh from God. Look well to this hedge of steadfast adherence to the faith, and you shall find a great blessing in it. There is yet another stone wall which I will mention, namely, _firmness of character_. Our holy faith teaches a man to be decided in the cause of Christ, and to be resolute in getting rid of evil habits. "If thine eye offend thee"--wear a shade? No; "pluck it out." "If thine arm offend thee"--hang it in a sling? No; "cut it off and cast it from thee." True religion is very thorough in what it recommends. It says to us, "Touch not the unclean thing." But many persons are so idle in the ways of God that they have no mind of their own: evil companions tempt them, and they cannot say, "No." They need a stone wall made up of noes. Here are the stones "no, _no_, NO." Dare to be singular. Resolve to keep close to Christ. Make a stern determination to permit nothing in your life, however gainful or pleasurable, if it would dishonor the name of Jesus. Be dogmatically true, obstinately holy, immovably honest, desperately kind, fixedly upright. If God's grace sets up this hedge around you, even Satan will feel that he cannot get in, and will complain to God "hast thou not set a hedge about him?" I have kept you long enough looking over the wall, let me invite you in, and for a few minutes let us CONSIDER THE CONSEQUENCES OF A BROKEN-DOWN FENCE. To make short work of it, first, _the boundary has gone_. Those lines of separation which were kept up by the good principles which were instilled in him by religious habits, by a bold profession and by a firm resolve, have vanished, and now the question is, "Is he a Christian, or is he not?" The fence is so far gone that he does not know which is his Lord's property and which remains an open common: in fact, he does not know whether he himself is included in the Royal domain or left to be mere waste of the world's manor. This is for want of keeping up the fences. If that man had lived near to God, if he had walked in his integrity, if the Spirit of God had richly rested on him in all holy living and waiting upon God, he would have known where the boundary was, and he would have seen whether his land lay in the parish of All-saints, or in the region called No-man's-land, or in the district where Satan is the lord of the manor. I heard of a dear old saint the other day who, when she was near to death, was attacked by Satan, and, waving her finger at the enemy, in her gentle way, she routed him by saying, "Chosen! chosen! chosen!" She knew that she was chosen, and she remembered the text, "The Lord that hath chosen Jerusalem rebuke thee." When the wall stands in its integrity all round the field, we can resist the devil by bidding him leave the Lord's property alone. "Begone! Look somewhere else. I belong to Christ, not to you." To do this you must mend the hedges well so that there shall be a clear boundary line, and you can say, "Trespassers, beware!" Do not yield an inch to the enemy, but make the wall all the higher, the more he seeks to enter. O that this adversary may never find a gap to enter by! Next, when the wall has fallen, _the protection is gone_. When a man's heart has its wall broken all his thoughts will go astray, and wander upon the mountains of vanity. Like sheep, thoughts need careful folding, or they will be off in no time. "I hate vain thoughts," said David, but slothful men are sure to have plenty of them, for there is no keeping your thoughts out of vanity unless you stop at every gap and shut every gate. Holy thoughts, comfortable meditations, devout longings, and gracious communings will be off and gone if we sluggishly allow the stone wall to get out of repair. Nor is this all, for as good things go out so bad things come in. When the wall is gone every passer-by sees, as it were, an invitation to enter. You have set before him an open door, and in he comes. Are there fruits? He plucks them, of course. He walks about as it were a public place, and he pries everywhere. Is there any secret corner of your heart which you will keep for Jesus? Satan or the world will walk in; and do you wonder? Every passing goat, or roaming ox, or stray ass visits the growing crops and spoils more than he eats, and who can blame the creature when the gaps are so wide? All manner of evil lust and desires, and imaginations prey upon an unfenced soul. It is of no use for you to say, "Lead us not into temptation." God will hear your prayer, and he will not lead you there; but you are leading yourself into it, you are tempting the devil to tempt you. If you leave yourself open to evil influences the Spirit of God will be grieved, and he may leave you to keep the result of your folly. What think you, friend? Had you not better attend to your fences at once? And then there is another evil, for _the land itself will go away_. "No," say you; "how can that be?" If a stone wall is broken down round a farm in England a man does not thereby lose his land, but in many parts of Palestine the land is all ups and downs on the sides of the hills, and every bit of ground is terraced and kept up by walls. When the walls fall the soil slips over, terrace upon terrace, and the vines and trees go down with it; then the rain comes and washes the soil away, and nothing is left but barren crags which would starve a lark. In the same manner a man may so neglect himself, and so neglect the things of God, and become so careless and indifferent about doctrine, and about holy living, that his power to do good ceases, and his mind, his heart, and his energy seem to be gone. The prophet said, "Ephraim is a silly dove, without heart:" there are flocks of such silly doves. The man who trifles with religion sports with his own soul, and will soon degenerate into so much of a trifler that he will be averse to solemn thought, and incapable of real usefulness. I charge you, dear friends, to be sternly true to yourselves and to your God. Stand to your principles in this evil and wicked day. Now, when everything seems to be turned into marsh and mire and mud, and religious thought appears to be silently sliding and slipping along, descending like a stream of slime into the Dead Sea of Unbelief--get solid walls built around your life, around your faith, and around your character. Stand fast, and having done all, still stand. May God the Holy Ghost cause you to be rooted and grounded, built up and established, fixed and confirmed, never "casting away your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward." Lastly, I want, if I can, TO WAKE UP THE SLUGGARD. I would like to throw a handful of gravel up to his window. It is time to get up, for the sun has drunk up all the dew. He craves "a little more sleep." My dear fellow, if you take a little more sleep, you will never wake at all till you lift up your eyes in another world. Wake at once. Leap from your bed before you are smothered in it. Wake up! Do you not see where you are? You have let things alone till your heart is covered with sins like weeds. You have neglected God and Christ till you have grown worldly, sinful, careless, indifferent, ungodly. I mean some of you who were once named with the sacred name. You have become like worldlings, and are almost as far from being what you ought to be as others who make no profession at all. Look at yourselves and see what has come of your neglected walls. Then look at some of your fellow-Christians, and mark how diligent they are. Look at many among them who are poor and illiterate, and yet they are doing far more than you for the Lord Jesus. In spite of your talents and opportunities, you are an unprofitable servant, letting all things run to waste. Is it not time that you bestirred yourself? Look, again, at others who, like yourself, went to sleep, meaning to wake in a little while. What has become of them? Alas, for those who have fallen into gross sin, and dishonored their character, and who have been put away from the church of God; yet they only went a little farther than you have done. Your state of heart is much the same as theirs, and if you should be tempted as they have been, you will probably make shipwreck as they have done. Oh, see to it, you that slumber, for an idle professor is ready for anything. A slothful professor's heart is tinder for the devil's tinderbox; does your heart thus invite the sparks of temptation? Remember, lastly, the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ. Shall he come and find you sleeping? Remember the judgment. What will you say to excuse yourself, for opportunities lost, time wasted, and talents wrapped up in a napkin, when the Lord shall come? As for you, my unconverted friend, if you go dreaming through this world, without any sort of trouble, and never look to the state of your heart at all, you will be a lost man beyond all question. The slothful can have no hope, for "if the righteous scarcely are saved," who strive to serve their Lord, where will those appear who sleep on in defiance of the calls of God? Salvation is wholly and alone of grace, as you well know; but grace never works in men's minds toward slumbering and indifference; it tends toward energy, activity, fervor, importunity, self-sacrifice. God grant us the indwelling of his Holy Spirit, that all things may be set in order, sins cut up by the roots within the heart, and the whole man protected by sanctifying grace from the wasters which lurk around, hoping to enter where the wall is low. O Lord, remember us in mercy, fence us about by thy power, and keep us from the sloth which would expose us to evil, for Jesus' sake. Amen. FROST AND THAW. "He giveth snow like wool: he scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes. He casteth forth his ice like morsels: who can stand before his cold? He sendeth out his word, and melteth them: he causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow."--PSALM 147:16-18. LOOKING out of our window one morning we saw the earth robed in a white mantle; for in a few short hours the earth had been covered to a considerable depth with snow. We looked out again in a few hours and saw the fields as green as ever, and the ploughed fields as bare as if no single flake had fallen. It is no uncommon thing for a heavy fall of snow to be followed by a rapid thaw. These interesting changes are wrought by God, not only with a purpose toward the outward world, but with some design toward the spiritual realm. God is always a teacher. In every action that he performs he is instructing his own children, and opening up to them the road to inner mysteries. Happy are those who find food for their heaven-born spirits, as well as for their mental powers, in the works of the Lord's hand. I shall ask your attention, first, _to the operations of nature spoken of in the text_; and, secondly, _to those operations of grace of which they are the most fitting symbols_. I. Consider, first, THE OPERATIONS OF NATURE. We shall not think a few minutes wasted if we call your attention to the hand of God in frost and thaw, even upon natural grounds. 1. Observe the _directness_ of the Lord's work. I rejoice, as I read these words, to find how present our God is in the world. It is not written, "the laws of nature produce snow," but "HE _giveth snow_," as if every flake came directly from the palm of his hand. We are not told that certain natural regulations form moisture into hoarfrost; no, but as Moses took ashes of the furnace and scattered them upon Egypt, so it is said of the Lord "HE _scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes_." It is not said that the Eternal has set the world going and by the operation of its machinery ice is produced. Oh, no, but every single granule of ice descending in the hail is from God; "HE _casteth forth his ice like morsels_." Even as the slinger distinctly sends the stone out of his sling, so the path of every hailstone is marked by the Divine power. The ice is called, you observe, _his_ ice; and in the next sentence we read of _his_ cold. These words make nature strangely magnificent. When we look upon every hailstone as God's hail, and upon every fragment of ice as his ice, how precious the watery diamonds become! When we feel the cold nipping our limbs and penetrating through every garment, it consoles us to remember that it is _his_ cold. When the thaw comes, see how the text speaks of it:--"_he sendeth out his word_." He does not leave it to certain forces of nature, but like a king, "_He sendeth out his word and melteth them: he causeth_ HIS _wind to blow_." He has a special property in every wind; whether it comes from the north to freeze, or from the south to melt, it is _his_ wind. Behold how in God's temple everything speaketh of his glory. Learn to see the Lord in all scenes of the visible universe, for truly he worketh all things. This thought of the directness of the Divine operations must be carried into providence. It will greatly comfort you if you can see God's hand in your losses and crosses; surely you will not murmur against the direct agency of your God. This will put an extraordinary sweetness into daily mercies, and make the comforts of life more comfortable still, because they are from a Father's hand. If your table be scantily furnished it shall suffice for your contented heart, when you know that your Father spread it for you in wisdom and love. This shall bless your bread and your water; this shall make the bare walls of an ill-furnished room as resplendent as a palace, and turn a hard bed into a couch of down;--my Father doth it all. We see his smile of love even when others see nothing but the black hand of Death smiting our best beloved. We see a Father's hand when the pestilence lays our cattle dead upon the plain. We see God at work in mercy when we ourselves are stretched upon the bed of languishing. It is ever our Father's act and deed. Do not let us get beyond this; but rather let us enlarge our view of this truth, and remember that this is true of the little as well as of the great. Let the lines of a true poet strike you:-- "If pestilence stalk through the land, ye say the Lord hath done it-- Hath he not done it when an aphis creepeth upon the rosebud? If an avalanche tumbles from its Alp, ye tremble at the will of Providence-- Is not that will as much concerned when the sere leaves fall from the poplar?" Let your hearts sing of everything, Jehovah-Shammah, the Lord is there. 2. Next, I beg you to observe, with thanksgiving, the _ease_ of Divine working. These verses read as if the making of frost and snow were the simplest matter in all the world. A man puts his hand into a wool-pack and throws out the wool; God giveth snow as easily as that: "He giveth snow like wool." A man takes up a handful of ashes, and throws them into the air, so that they fall around: "He scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes." Rime and snow are marvels of nature: those who have observed the extraordinary beauty of the ice-crystals have been enraptured, and yet they are easily formed by the Lord. "He casteth forth his ice like morsels"--just as easily as we cast crumbs of bread outside the window to the robins during wintry days. When the rivers are hard frozen, and the earth is held in iron chains, then the melting of the whole--how is that done? Not by kindling innumerable fires, nor by sending electric shocks from huge batteries through the interior of the earth--no; "He sendeth forth his word, and melteth them; he causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow." The whole matter is accomplished with a word and a breath. If you and I had any great thing to do, what puffing and panting, what straining and tugging there would be: even the great engineers, who perform marvels by machinery, make much noise and stir about it. It is not so with the Almighty One. Our globe spins round in four-and-twenty hours, and yet it does not make so much noise as a humming-top; and yonder ponderous worlds rolling in space track their way in silence. If I enter a factory I hear a deafening din, or if I stand near the village mill, turned by water dropping over a wheel, there is a never-ceasing click-clack, or an undying hum; but God's great wheels revolve without noise or friction: divine machinery works smoothly. This ease is seen in providence as well as in nature. Your heavenly Father is as able to deliver you as he is to melt the snow, and he will deliver you in as simple a manner if you rest upon him. He openeth his hand, and supplies the want of every living thing as readily as he works in nature. Mark the ease of God's working--he does but open his hand. 3. Notice in the next place the _variety_ of the Divine operations in nature. When the Lord is at work with frost as his tool he creates snow, a wonderful production, every crystal being a marvel of art; but then he is not content with snow--from the same water he makes another form of beauty which we call hoarfrost, and yet a third lustrous sparkling substance, namely glittering ice; and all these by the one agency of cold. What a marvellous variety the educated eye can detect in the several forms of frozen water! The same God who solidified the flood with cold soon melts it with warmth; but even in thaw there is no monotony of manner: at one time the joyous streams rush with such impetuosity from their imprisonment that rivers are swollen and floods cover the plain; at another time by slow degrees, in scanty driblets, the drops regain their freedom. The same variety is seen in every department of nature. So in providence the Lord has a thousand forms of frosty trials with which to try his people, and he has ten thousand beams of mercy with which to cheer and comfort them. He can afflict you with the snow trial, or with the hoarfrost trial, or with the ice trial, if he will; and anon he can with his word relax the bonds of adversity, and that in countless ways. Whereas men are tied to two or three methods in accomplishing their will, God is infinite in understanding and worketh as he wills by ways unguessed of mortal mind. 4. I shall ask you also to consider the works of God in nature in their _swiftness_. It was thought a wonderful thing in the days of Ahasuerus that letters were sent by post upon swift dromedaries. In our country we thought we had arrived at the age of miracles when the axles of our cars glowed with speed, and now that the telegraph is at work we stretch out our hands into infinity; but what is our rapidity compared with that of God's operations? Well does the text say, "He sendeth forth his commandment upon earth: his word runneth very swiftly." Forth went the word, "Open the treasures of snow," and the flakes descended in innumerable multitudes; and then it was said, "Let them be closed," and not another snow-feather was seen. Then spake the Master, "Let the south wind blow and the snow be melted": lo, it disappeared at the voice of his word. Believer, you cannot tell how soon God may come to your help. "He rode upon a cherub and did fly," says David; "yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind." He will come from above to rescue his beloved. He will rend the heavens and come down; with such speed will he descend, that he will not stay to draw the curtains of heaven, but he will rend them in his haste, and make the mountains to flow down at his feet, that he may deliver those who cry unto him in the hour of trouble. That mighty God who can melt the ice so speedily can take to himself the same eagle wings, and haste to your deliverance. Arise, O God! and let thy children be helped, and that right early. 5. One other thought: consider the _goodness_ of God in all the operations of nature and providence. Think of that goodness negatively. "Who can stand before his cold?" You cannot help thinking of the poor in a hard winter--only a hard heart can forget them when you see the snow lying deep. But suppose that snow continued to fall! What is there to hinder it? The same God who sends us snow for one day could do the like for fifty days if he pleased. Why not? And when the frost pinches us so severely, why should it not be continued month after month? We can only thank the goodness which does not send "His cold" to such an extent that our spirits expire. Travellers toward the North Pole tremble as they think of this question, "Who can stand before his cold?" For cold has a degree of omnipotence in it when God is pleased to let it loose. Let us thank God for the restraining mercy by which he holds the cold in check. Not only negatively, but positively there is mercy in the snow. Is not that a suggestive metaphor? "He giveth snow _like wool_." The snow is said to warm the earth; it protects those little plants which have just begun to peep above the ground, and might otherwise be frost-bitten; as with a garment of down the snow protects them from the extreme severity of cold. Hence Watts sings, in his version of the hundred and forty-seventh Psalm-- "His flakes of snow like wool he sends, And thus the springing corn defends." It was an idea of the ancients that snow warmed the heart of the soil, and gave it fertility, and therefore they praised God for it. Certainly there is much mercy in the frost, for pestilence might run a far longer race if it were not that the frost cries to it, "Hitherto shalt thou come, but no farther." Noxious insects would multiply until they devoured the precious fruits of the earth, if sharp nights did not destroy millions of them, so that these pests are swept off the earth. Though man may think himself a loser by the cold, he is a great ultimate gainer by the decree of Providence which ordains winter. The quaint saying of one of the old writers that "snow is wool, and frost is fire, and ice is bread, and rain is drink," is true, though it sounds like a paradox. There is no doubt that frost in breaking up the soil promotes fruitfulness, and so the ice becomes bread. Thus those agencies, which for the moment deprive our workers of their means of sustenance, are the means by which God supplies every living thing. Mark, then, God's goodness as clearly in the snow and frost as in the thaw which clears the winter's work away. Christian, remember the goodness of God in the frost of adversity. Rest assured that when God is pleased to send out the biting winds of affliction he is in them, and he is always love, as much love in sorrow as when he breathes upon you the soft south wind of joy. See the lovingkindness of God in every work of his hand! Praise him--he maketh summer and winter--let your song go round the year! Praise him--he giveth day and sendeth night--thank him at all hours! Cast not away your confidence, it hath great recompense of reward. As David wove the snow, and rain, and stormy wind into a song, even so combine your trials, your tribulations, your difficulties and adversities into a sweet psalm of praise and say perpetually-- "Let us, with a gladsome mind, Praise the Lord, for he is kind." Thus much upon the operations of nature. It is a very tempting theme, but other fields invite me. II. I would address you very earnestly and solemnly Upon THOSE OPERATIONS OF GRACE, OF WHICH FROST AND THAW ARE THE OUTWARD SYMBOLS. There is a period with God's own people when he comes to deal with them by _the frost of the law_. The law is to the soul as the cutting north wind. Faith can see love in it, but the carnal eye of sense cannot. It is a cold, terrible, comfortless blast. To be exposed to the full force of the law of God would be to be frost-bitten with everlasting destruction; and even to feel it for a season would congeal the marrow of one's bones, and make one's whole being stiff with affright. "Who can stand before his cold?" When the law comes forth thundering from its treasuries, who can stand before it? The effect of law-work upon the soul is to bind up the rivers of human delight. No man can rejoice when the terrors of conscience are upon him. When the law of God is sweeping through the soul, music and dancing lose their joy, the bowl forgets its power to cheer, and the enchantments of earth are broken. The rivers of pleasure freeze to icy despondency. The buds of hope are suddenly nipped, and the soul finds no comfort. It was satisfied once to grow rich, but rust and canker are now upon all gold and silver. Every promising hope is frost-bitten, and the spirit is winter-bound in despair. This cold makes the sinner feel how ragged his garments are. He could strut about, when it was summer weather, and think his rags right royal robes, but now the cold frost finds out every rent in his garment, and in the hands of the terrible law he shivers like the leaves upon the aspen. The north wind of judgment searches the man through and through. He did not know what was in him, but now he sees his inward parts to be filled with corruption and rottenness. These are some of the terrors of the wintry breath of the law. This frost of law and terrors only tends to harden. Nothing splits the rock or makes the cliff tumble like frost when succeeded by thaw, but frost alone makes the earth like a mass of iron, breaking the ploughshare which would seek to pierce it. A sinner under the influence of the law of God, apart from the gospel, is hardened by despair, and cries, "There is no hope, and therefore after my lusts will I go. Whereas there is no heaven for me after this life, I will make a heaven out of this earth; and since hell awaits me, I will at least enjoy such sweets as sin may afford me here." This is not the fault of the law; the blame lies with the corrupt heart which is hardened by it; yet, nevertheless, such is its effect. When the Lord has wrought by the frost of the law, he sends _the thaw of the gospel_. When the south wind blows from the land of promise, bringing precious remembrances of God's fatherly pity and tender lovingkindness, then straightway the heart begins to soften and a sense of blood-bought pardon speedily dissolves it. The eyes fill with tears, the heart melts in tenderness, rivers of pleasure flow freely, and buds of hope open in the cheerful air. A heavenly spring whispers to the flowers that were sleeping in the cold earth; they hear its voice, and lift up their heads, for "the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land." God sendeth his Word, saying, "Thy warfare is accomplished, and thy sin is pardoned;" and when that blessedly cheering word comes with power to the soul, and the sweet breath of the Holy Spirit acts like the warm south wind upon the heart, then the waters flow, and the mind is filled with holy joy, and light, and liberty. "The legal wintry state is gone, The frosts are fled, the spring comes on, The sacred turtle-dove we hear Proclaim the new, the joyful year." Having shown you that there is a parallel between frost and thaw in nature and law and gospel in grace, I would utter the same thoughts concerning grace which I gave you concerning nature. 1. We began with the directness of God's works in nature. Now, beloved friends, remark the _directness of God's works in grace_. When the heart is truly affected by the law of God, when sin is made to appear exceeding sinful, when carnal hopes are frozen to death by the law, when the soul is made to feel its barrenness and utter death and ruin--this is the finger of God. Do not speak of the minister. It was well that he preached earnestly: God has used him as an instrument, but God worketh all. When the thaw of grace comes, I pray you discern the distinct hand of God in every beam of comfort which gladdens the troubled conscience, for it is the Lord alone who bindeth up the broken in heart and healeth all their wounds. We are far too apt to stop in instrumentalities. Folly makes men look to sacraments for heart-breaking or heart-healing, but sacraments all say, "It is not in us." Some of you look to the preaching of the Word, and look no higher; but all true preachers will tell you, "It is not in us." Eloquence and earnestness at their highest pitch can neither break nor heal a heart. This is God's work. Ay, and not God's secondary work in the sense in which the philosopher admits that God is in the laws of nature, but God's personal and immediate work. He putteth forth his own hand when the conscience is humbled, and it is by his own right hand that the conscience is eased and cleansed. I desire that this thought may abide upon your minds, for you will not praise God else, nor will you be sound in doctrine. All departures from sound doctrine on the point of conversion arise from forgetfulness that it is a divine work from first to last; that the faintest desire after Christ is as much the work of God as the gift of his dear Son; and that our whole spiritual history through, from the Alpha to the Omega, the Holy Spirit works in us to will and to do of his own good pleasure. As you have evidently seen the finger of God in casting forth his ice and in sending thaw, so I pray you recognize the handiwork of God in giving you a sense of sin, and in bringing you to the Saviour's feet. Join together in heartily praising the wonder-working God, who doeth all things according to the counsel of his will. "Our seeking thy face Was all of thy grace, Thy mercy demands, and shall have all the praise: No sinner can be Beforehand with thee, Thy grace is preventing, almighty and free." 2. The second thought upon nature was _the ease with which the Lord worked_. There was no effort or disturbance. Transfer that to the work of grace. How easy it is for God to send law-work into the soul! You stubborn sinner, _you_ cannot touch him, and even providence has failed to awaken him. He is dead--altogether dead in trespasses and sins. But if the glorious Lord will graciously send forth the wind of his Spirit, that will melt him. The swearing reprobate, whose mouth is blackened with profanity, if the Lord doth but look upon him and make bare his arm of irresistible grace, shall yet praise God, and bless his name, and live to his honor. Do not limit the Holy One of Israel. Persecuting Saul became loving Paul, and why should not that person be saved of whose case you almost despair? Your husband may have many points which make his case difficult, but no case is desperate with God. Your son may have offended both against heaven and against you, but God can save the most hardened. The sharpest frost of obstinate sin must yield to the thaw of grace. Even huge icebergs of crime must melt in the Gulf-stream of infinite love. Poor sinner, I cannot leave this point without a word to you. Perhaps the Master has sent the frost to you, and you think it will never end. Let me encourage you to hope, and yet more, to pray for gracious visitations. Miss Steele's verses will just suit your mournful yet hopeful state. "Stern winter throws his icy chains, Encircling nature round: How bleak, how comfortless the plains, Late with gay verdure crown'd! The sun withdraws his vital beams, And light and warmth depart: And, drooping lifeless, nature seems An emblem of my heart-- My heart, where mental winter reigns In night's dark mantle clad, Confined in cold, inactive chains; How desolate and sad! Return, O blissful sun, and bring Thy soul-reviving ray; This mental winter shall be spring, This darkness cheerful day." It is easy for God to deliver you. He says, "I have blotted out like a thick cloud thy transgressions." I stood the other evening looking up at a black cloud which was covering all the heavens, and I thought it would surely rain; I entered the house, and when I came out again the sky was all blue--the wind had driven the cloud away. So may it be with your soul. It is an easy thing for the Lord to put away sin from repenting sinners. All obstacles which hindered our pardon were removed by Jesus when he died upon the tree, and if you believe in him you will find that he has cast your sins into the depths of the sea. If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth. 3. The next thought concerning the Lord's work in nature was the _variety_ of it. Frost produces a sort of trinity in unity--snow, hoarfrost, ice; and when the thaw comes its ways are many. So it is with God in the heart. Conviction comes not alike to all. Some convictions fall as the snow from heaven: you never hear the flakes descend, they alight so gently one upon the other. There are soft-coming convictions; they are felt, but we can scarcely tell when we began to feel them. A true work of repentance may be of the gentlest kind. On the other hand, the Lord casteth forth his ice like morsels, the hailstones rattle against the window, and you think they will surely force their way into the room, and so to many persons convictions come beating down till they remind you of hailstones. There is variety. It is as true a frost which produces the noiseless snow as that which brings forth the terrible hail. Why should you want hailstones of terror? Be thankful that God has visited you, but do not dictate to him the way of his working. With regard to the gospel thaw. If you may but be pardoned by Jesus, do not stipulate as to the manner of his grace. Thaw is universal and gradual, but its commencement is not always discernible. The chains of winter are unloosed by degrees: the surface ice and snow melt, and by and by the warmth permeates the entire mass till every rock of ice gives way. But while thaw is universal and visible in its effects you cannot see the mighty power which is doing all this. Even so you must not expect to discern the Spirit of God. You will find him gradually operating upon the entire man, enlightening the understanding, freeing the will, delivering the heart from fear, inspiring hope, waking up the whole spirit, gradually and universally working upon the mind and producing the manifest effects of comfort, and hope, and peace; but you can no more see the Spirit of God than you can see the south wind. The effect of his power is to be felt, and when you feel it, do not marvel if it be somewhat different from what others have experienced. After all, there is a singular likeness in snow and hoarfrost and ice, and so there is a remarkable sameness in the experience of all God's children; but still there is a great variety in the inward operations of divine grace. 4. We must next notice the _rapidity_ of God's works, "His word runneth very swiftly." It did not take many days to get rid of the last snow. A contractor would take many a day to cart it away, but God sendeth forth his word, and the snow and ice disappear at once. So is it with the soul: the Lord often works rapidly when he cheers the heart. You may have been a long time under the operation of his frosty law, but there is no reason why you should be another hour under it. If the Spirit enables you to trust in the finished work of Christ, you may go out of this house rejoicing that every sin is forgiven. Poor soul, do not think that the way from the horrible pit is to climb, step by step, to the top. Oh no; Jesus can set your feet upon a rock ere the clock shall have gone round the dial. He can in an instant bring you from death to life, from condemnation to justification. "To-day shall thou be with me in Paradise," was spoken to a dying thief, black and defiled with sin. Only believe in the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. 5. Our last thought upon the operation of God was _his goodness_ in it all. What a blessing that God did not send us more law-work than he did! "Who can stand before his cold?" Oh! beloved, when God has taken away from man natural comfort, and made him feel divine wrath in his soul, it is an awful thing. Speak of a haunted man; no man need be haunted with a worse ghost than the remembrance of his old sins. The childish tale of the sailor with the old man of the mountain on his back, who pressed him more and more heavily, is more than realized in the history of the troubled conscience. If one sin do but leap on a man's back, it will sink the sinner through every standing-place that he can possibly mount upon; he will go down, down, under its weight, till he sinks to the lowest depths of hell. There is no place where sin can be borne till you get upon the Rock of Ages, and even there the joy is not that _you_ bear it, but that Jesus has borne it all for you. The spirit would utterly fail before the law, if it had full sway. Thank God, "he stayeth his rough wind in the day of his east wind." At the same time, how thankful we may be, that we ever felt the law-frost in our soul. The folly of self-righteousness is killed by the winter of conviction. We should have been a thousand times more proud, and foolish, and worldly, than we are, if it had not been for the sharp frost with which the Lord nipped the growths of the flesh. But how shall we thank him sufficiently for the thaw of his lovingkindness? How great the change which his mercy made in us as soon as its beams had reached our soul! Hardness vanished, cold departed, warmth and love abounded, and the life-floods leaped in their channels. The Lord visited us, and we rose from our grave of despair, even as the seeds arise from the earth. As the bulb of the crocus holds up its golden cup to be filled with sunshine, so did our new-born faith open itself to the glory of the Lord. As the primrose peeps up from the sod to gaze upon the sun, so did our hope look forth for the promise, and delight itself in the Lord. Thank God that spring-tide has with many of us matured into summer, and winter has gone never to return. We praise the Lord for this every day of our lives, and we will praise him when time shall be no more in that sunny land-- "Where everlasting spring abides, And never withering flowers. A thread-like stream alone divides That heavenly land from ours." Believe in the Lord, ye who shiver in the frost of the law, and the thaw of love shall soon bring you warm days of joy and peace. So be it. Amen. THE CORN OF WHEAT DYING TO BRING FORTH FRUIT. "And Jesus answered them, saying, The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified. Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. He that loveth his life shall lose it: and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal."--JOHN 12:23-25. CERTAIN Greeks desired to see Jesus. These were Gentiles and it was remarkable that they should, just at this time, have sought an interview with our Lord. I suppose that the words "We would see Jesus" did not merely mean that they would like to look at him, for that they could have done in the public streets; but they would "see" him as we speak of seeing a person with whom we wish to hold a conversation. They desired to be introduced to him, and to have a few words of instruction from him. These Greeks were the advanced guard of that great multitude that no man can number, of all nations, and people, and tongues, who are yet to come to Christ. The Saviour would naturally feel a measure of joy at the sight of them, but he did not say much about it, for his mind was absorbed just then with thoughts of his great sacrifice and its results; yet he took so much notice of the coming of these Gentiles to him that it gave a color to the words which are here recorded by his servant John. I notice that the Saviour here _displays his broad humanity_, and announces himself as the "Son of man." He had done so before, but here with new intent. He says, "The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified." Not as "the Son of David" does he here speak of himself, but as "the Son of man." No longer does he make prominent the Jewish side of his mission, though as a preacher he was not sent to save the lost sheep of the house of Israel; but as the dying Saviour he speaks of himself as one of the race, not the Son of Abraham, or of David, but "the Son of man": as much brother to the Gentile as to the Jew. Let us never forget the broad humanity of the Lord Jesus. In him all kindreds of the earth are joined in one, for he is not ashamed to bear the nature of our universal manhood; black and white, prince and pauper, sage and savage, all see in his veins the one blood by which all men are constituted one family. As the Son of man Jesus is near akin to every man that lives. Now, too, that the Greeks were come, our Lord _speaks somewhat of his glory_ as approaching. "The hour is come," saith he, "that the Son of man should be glorified." He does not say "that the Son of man should be crucified," though that was true, and the crucifixion must come before the glorification; but the sight of those first-fruits from among the Gentiles makes him dwell upon his glory. Though he remembers his death, he speaks rather of the glory which would grow out of his great sacrifice. Remember, brethren, that Christ is glorified in the souls that he saves. As a physician wins honor by those he heals, so the Physician of souls gets glory out of those who come to him. When these devout Greeks came, saying, "Sirs, we would see Jesus," though a mere desire to see him is only as the green blade, yet he rejoiced in it as the pledge of the harvest, and he saw in it the dawn of the glory of his cross. I think, too, that the coming of these Greeks somewhat _led the Saviour to use the metaphor of the buried corn_. We are informed that wheat was largely mixed up with Grecian mysteries, but that is of small importance. It is more to the point that our Saviour was then undergoing the process which would burst the Jewish husk in which, if I may use such terms, his human life had been enveloped. I mean this: aforetime our Lord said that he was not sent save to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, and when the Syrophenician woman pleaded for her daughter he reminded her of the restricted character of his commission as a prophet among men. When he sent out the seventy, he bade them not to go into the cities of the Samaritans, but to seek after the house of Israel only. Now, however, that blessed corn of wheat is breaking through its outer integument. Even before it is put into the ground to die the divine corn of wheat begins to show its living power, and the true Christ is being manifested. The Christ of God, though assuredly the Son of David, was, on the Father's side, neither Jew nor Gentile, but simply man; and the great sympathies of his heart were with all mankind. He regarded all whom he had chosen as his own brethren without distinction of sex, or nation, or the period of the world's history in which they should live; and, at the sight of these Greeks, the true Christ came forth and manifested himself to the world as he had not done before. Hence, perhaps, the peculiar metaphor which we have now to explain. In our text, dear friends, we have two things upon which I will speak briefly, as I am helped of the Spirit. First, we have _profound doctrinal teaching_, and, secondly, we have _practical moral principle_. First, we have PROFOUND DOCTRINAL TEACHING. Our Saviour suggested to his thoughtful disciples a number of what might be called doctrinal paradoxes. First, that, _glorious as he was, he was yet to be glorified_. "The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified." Jesus was always glorious. It was a glorious thing for the human person of the Son of man to be personally one with the Godhead. Our Lord Jesus had also great glory all the while he was on earth, in the perfection of his moral character. The gracious end for which he came here was real glory to him: his condescending to be the Saviour of men was a great glorification of his loving character. His way of going about his work--the way in which he consecrated himself to his Father and was always about his Father's business, the way in which he put aside Satan with his blandishments, and would not be bribed by all the kingdoms of the world--all this was his glory. I should not speak incorrectly if I were to say that Christ was really as to his moral nature never more glorious than when throughout his life on earth he was obscure, despised, rejected, and yet the faithful servant of God, and the ardent lover of the sons of men. The apostle says, "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth," in which he refers not only to the transfiguration, in which there were special glimpses of the divine glory, but to our Lord's tabernacling among men in the common walks of life. Saintly, spiritual minds beheld the glory of his life, the glory of grace and truth such as never before had been seen in any of the sons of men. But though he was thus, to all intents and purposes, already glorious, Jesus had yet to be glorified. Something more was to be added to his personal honor. Remember, then, that when you have the clearest conceptions of your Lord, there is still a glory to be added to all that you can see even with the word of God in your hands. Glorious as the living Son of man had been, there was a further glory to come upon him through his death, his resurrection, and his entrance within the veil. He was a glorious Christ, and yet he had to be glorified. A second paradox is this--that _his glory was to come to him through shame_. He says, "The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified," and then he speaks of his death. The greatest fulness of our Lord's glory arises out of his emptying himself, and becoming obedient to death, even the death of the cross. It is his highest reputation that he made himself of no reputation. His crown derives new lustre from his cross; his ever living is rendered more honorable by the fact of his dying unto sin once. Those blessed cheeks would never have been so fair as they are in the eyes of his chosen if they had not once been spat upon. Those dear eyes had never had so overpowering a glance if they had not once been dimmed in the agonies of death for sinners. His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl, but their brightest adornments are the prints of the cruel nails. As the Son of God his glory was all his own by nature, but as Son of man his present splendor is due to the cross, and to the ignominy which surrounded it when he bore our sins in his own body. We must never forget this, and if ever we are tempted to merge the crucified Saviour in the coming King we should feel rebuked by the fact that thus we should rob our Lord of his highest honor. Whenever you hear men speak lightly of the atonement stand up for it at once, for out of this comes the main glory of your Lord and Master. They say, "Let him come down from the cross, and we will believe on him." If he did so what would remain to be believed? It is on the cross, it is from the cross, it is through the cross that Jesus mounts to his throne, and the Son of man has a special honor in heaven to-day because he was slain and has redeemed us to God by his blood. The next paradox is this--_Jesus must be alone or abide alone_. Notice the text as I read it: "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die," and so gets alone, "it abideth alone." The Son of man must be alone in the grave, or he will be alone in heaven. He must fall into the ground like the corn of wheat, and be there in the loneliness of death, or else he will abide alone. This is a paradox readily enough explained; our Lord Jesus Christ as the Son of man, unless he had trodden the winepress alone, unless beneath the olives of Gethsemane he had wrestled on the ground, and as it were sunk into the ground until he died, if he had not been there alone, and if on the cross he had not cried, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" so that he felt quite deserted and alone, like the buried corn of wheat--could not have saved us. If he had not actually died he would as man have been alone forever: not without the eternal Father and the divine Spirit, not without the company of angels; but there had not been another man to keep him company. Our Lord Jesus cannot bear to be alone. A head without its members is a ghastly sight, crown it as you may. Know ye not that the church is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all? Without his people Jesus would have been a shepherd without sheep; surely it is not a very honorable office to be a shepherd without a flock. He would have been a husband without his spouse; but he loves his bride so well that for this purpose did he leave his Father and become one flesh with her whom he had chosen. He clave to her, and died for her; and had he not done so he would have been a bridegroom without a bride. This could never be. His heart is not of the kind that can enjoy a selfish happiness which is shared by none. If you have read Solomon's Song, where the heart of the Bridegroom is revealed, you will have seen that he desires the company of his love, his dove, his undefiled. His delights were with the sons of men. Simon Stylites on the top of a pillar is not Jesus Christ; the hermit in his cave may mean well, but he finds no warrant for his solitude in him whose cross he professes to venerate. Jesus was the friend of men, not avoiding them, but seeking the lost. It was truly said of him, "This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." He draws all men unto him, and for this cause he was lifted up from the earth. Yet must this great attractive man have been alone in heaven if he had not been alone in Gethsemane, alone before Pilate, alone when mocked by soldiers, and alone upon the cross. If this precious grain of wheat had not descended into the dread loneliness of death it had remained alone, but since he died he "bringeth forth much fruit." This brings us to the fourth paradox--_Christ must die to give life_. "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit": Jesus must die to give life to others. Persons who do not think confound dying with non-existence, and living with existence--very, very different things. "The soul that sinneth it shall die:" it shall never go out of existence, but it shall die by being severed from God who is its life. There are many men who exist, and yet have not true life, and shall not see life, but "the wrath of God abideth on them." The grain of wheat when it is put into the ground dies; do we mean that it ceases to be? Not at all. What is death? It is the resolution of anything possessing life into its primary elements. With us it is the body parting from the soul; with a grain of wheat it is the dissolving of the elements which made up the corn. Our divine Lord when put into the earth did not see corruption, but his soul was parted from his body for a while, and thus he died; and unless he had literally and actually died he could not have given life to any of us. Beloved friends, this teaches us where the vital point of Christianity lies, _Christ's death is the life of his teaching_. See here: if Christ's preaching had been the essential point, or if his example had been the vital point, he could have brought forth fruit and multiplied Christians by his preaching, and by his example. But he declares that, except he shall die, he shall not bring forth fruit. Am I told that this was because his death would be the completion of his example, and the seal of his preaching? I admit that it was so, but I can conceive that if our Lord had rather continued to live on--if he had been here constantly going up and down the world preaching and living as he did, and if he had wrought miracles as he did, and put forth that mysterious, attracting power, which was always with him, he might have produced a marvellous number of disciples. If his teaching and living had been the way in which spiritual life could have been bestowed, without an atonement, why did not the Saviour prolong his life on earth? But the fact is that no man among us can know anything about spiritual life except through the atonement. There is no way by which we can come to a knowledge of God except through the precious blood of Jesus Christ, by which we have access to the Father. If, as some tell us, the ethical part of Christianity is much more to be thought of than its peculiar doctrines, then, why did Jesus die at all? The ethical might have been brought out better by a long life of holiness. He might have lived on till now if he had chosen, and still have preached, and still have set an example among the sons of men; but he assures us that only by death could he have brought forth fruit. What, not with all that holy living? No. What, not by that matchless teaching? No. Not one among us could have been saved from eternal death except an expiation had been wrought by Jesus' sacrifice. Not one of us could have been quickened into spiritual life except Christ himself had died and risen from the dead. Brethren, all the spiritual life that there is in the world is the result of Christ's death. We live under a dispensation which shadows forth this truth to us. Life first came into the world by a creation: that was lost in the garden. Since then, the father of our race is Noah, and life by Noah came to us by a typical death, burial, and resurrection. Noah went in unto the ark, and was shut in, and so buried. In that ark Noah went among the dead, himself enveloped in the rain and in the ark, and he came out into a new world, rising again, as it were, when the waters were assuaged. That is the way of life to-day. We are dead with Christ, we are buried with Christ, we are risen with Christ; and there is no real spiritual life in this world except that which has come to us by the process of death, burial, and resurrection with Christ. Do you know anything about this, dear friends?--for if you do not, you know not the life of God. You know the theory, but do you know the experimental power of this within your own spirit? Whenever we hear the doctrine of the atonement attacked, let us stand up for it. Let us tell the world that while we value the life of Christ even more than they do, we know that it is not the example of Christ that saves anybody, but his death for our sakes. If the blessed Christ had lived here all these nineteen hundred years, without sin, teaching all his marvellous precepts with his own sublime and simple eloquence, yet he had not produced one single atom of spiritual life among all the sons of men. Without dying he brings forth no fruit. If you want life, my dear hearer, you will not get it as an unregenerate man by attempting to imitate the example of Christ. You may get good of a certain sort that way, but you will never obtain spiritual life and eternal salvation by that method. You must believe on Jesus as dying for you. You have to understand that the blood of Jesus Christ, God's dear Son, cleanses us from all sin. When you have learned that truth, you shall study his life with advantage; but unless you recognize that the grain of wheat is cast into the ground, and made to die, you will never realize any fruit from it in your own soul, or see fruit in the souls of others. One other blessed lesson of deep divinity is to be learnt from our text: it is this--_since Jesus Christ did really fall into the ground and die, we may expect much as the result of it_. "If it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." Some have a little Christ, and they expect to see little things come of him. I have met with good people who appear to think that Jesus Christ died for the sound people who worship at Zoar Chapel, and, perhaps, for a few more who go to Ebenezer in a neighboring town, and they hope that one day a chosen few--a scanty company indeed they are, and they do their best by mutual quarrelling to make them fewer--will glorify God for the salvation of a very small remnant. I will not blame these dear brethren, but I do wish that their hearts were enlarged. We do not yet know all the fruit that is to come out of our Lord Jesus. May there not come a day when the millions of London shall worship God with one consent? I look for a day when the knowledge of the glory of God shall cover the earth as the waters cover the sea, when kings shall fall down before the Son of God, and all nations shall call him blessed. "It is too much to expect," says one; "missions make very slow progress." I know all that, but missions are not the seed: all that we look for is to come out of that corn of wheat which fell into the ground and died: this is to bring forth much fruit. When I think of my Master's blessed person as perfect Son of God and Son of man; when I think of the infinite glory which he laid aside, and of the unutterable pangs he bore, I ask whether angels can compute the value of the sacrifice he offered. God only knows the love of God that was manifested in the death of his Son, and do you think that there will be all this planning and working and sacrifice of infinite love, and then an insignificant result? It is not like God that it should be so. The travail of the Son of God shall not bring forth a scanty good. The result shall be commensurate with the means, and the effect shall be parallel with the cause. The Lord shall reign for ever and ever. Hallelujah! Ay, as the groanings of the cross must have astounded angels, so shall the results of the cross amaze the seraphim, and make them admire the excess of glory which has arisen from the shameful death of their Lord. O beloved, great things are to come out of our Jesus yet. Courage, you that are dispirited. Be brave, you soldiers of the cross. Victory awaits your banner. Wait patiently, work hopefully, suffer joyfully, for the kingdom is the Lord's, and he is the governor among the nations. Thus have I spoken upon profound divinity. I close with a few words upon PRACTICAL INSTRUCTION. Learn now that what is true of Christ is in measure true of every child of God: "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." This is so far applicable to us, as the next verse indicates--"He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal." First, _we must die if we are to live_. There is no spiritual life for you, for me, for any man, except by dying into it. Have you a fine-spun righteousness of your own? It must die. Have you any faith in yourself? It must die. The sentence of death must be in yourself, and then you shall enter into life. The withering power of the Spirit of God must be experienced before his quickening influence can be known: "The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: because the spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it." You must be slain by the sword of the Spirit before you can be made alive by the breath of the Spirit. Next, _we must surrender everything to keep it_. "He that loveth his life shall lose it." Brother, you can never have spiritual life, hope, joy, peace, heaven, except by giving everything up into God's hands. You shall have everything in Christ when you are willing to have nothing of your own. You must ground your weapons of rebellion, you must drop the plumes of your pride, you must give up into God's hand all that you are and all that you have; and if you do not thus lose everything in will, you shall lose everything in fact; indeed, you have lost it already. A full surrender of everything to God is the only way to keep it. Some of God's people find this literally true. I have known a mother keep back her child from God, and the child has died. Wealthy people have worshipped their wealth, and as they were God's people, he has broken their idols into shivers. You must lose your all if you would keep it, and renounce your most precious thing if you would have it preserved to you. Next, _we must lose self in order to find self_. "He that hateth his life shall keep it unto life eternal." You must entirely give up living for yourself, and then you yourself shall live. The man who lives for himself does not live; he loses the essence, the pleasure, the crown of existence; but if you live for others and for God you will find the life of life. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." There is no way of finding yourself in personal joy like losing yourself in the joy of others. Once more: if you _wish to be the means of life to others, you must in your measure die yourself_. "Oh," say you, "will it actually come to death?" Well, it may not, but you should be prepared for it if it should. Who have most largely blessed the present age? I will tell you. I believe we owe our gospel liberties mainly to the poor men and women who died at the stake for the faith. Call them Lollards, Anabaptists, or what you will, the men who died for it gave life to the holy cause. Some of all ranks did this, from bishops downward to poor boys. Many of them could not preach from the pulpit, but they preached grander sermons from the fagots than all the reformers could thunder from their rostrums. They fell into the ground and died, and the "much fruit" abides to this day. The self-sacrificing death of her saints was the life and increase of the church. If we wish to achieve a great purpose, establish a great truth, and raise up a great agency for good, it must be by the surrender of ourselves, yea, of our very lives to the one all-absorbing purpose. Not else can we succeed. There is no giving out to others, without taking so much out of yourself. He who serves God and finds that it is easy work will find it hard work to give in his account at the last. A sermon that costs nothing is worth nothing; if it did not come from the heart it will not go to the heart. Take it as a rule that wear and tear must go on, even to exhaustion, if we are to be largely useful. Death precedes growth. The Saviour of others cannot save himself. We must not, therefore, grudge the lives of those who die under the evil climate of Africa, if they die for Christ; nor must we murmur if here and there God's best servants are cut down by brain exhaustion: it is the law of divine husbandry that by death cometh increase. And you, dear friend, must not say, "Oh, I cannot longer teach in the Sunday-school: I work so hard all the week that I--I--I"--shall I finish the sentence for you? You work so hard for yourself all the week that you cannot work for God one day in the week. Is that it? "No, not quite so, but I am so fagged." Very true, but think of your Lord. He knew what weariness was for you, and yet he wearied not in well-doing. You will never come to sweat of blood as he did. Come, dear friend, will you be a corn of wheat laid up on the shelf alone? Will you be like that wheat in the mummy's hand, unfruitful and forgotten, or would you grow? I hear you say, "Sow me somewhere." I will try to do so. Let me drop you into the Sunday-school field, or into the Tract-lending acre, or into the Street-preaching parcel of land. "But if I make any great exertion it will half kill me." Yes; and if it shall quite kill, you will then prove the text, "If it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." Those who have killed themselves of late in our Lord's service are not so numerous that we need be distressed by the fear that an enormous sacrifice of life is likely to occur. Little cause is there just now to repress fanaticism, but far more reason to denounce self-seeking. O, my brethren, let us rise to a condition of consecration more worthy of our Lord and of his glorious cause, and henceforth may we be eager to be as the buried, hidden, dying, yet fruit-bearing wheat for the glory of our Lord. Thus have I merely glanced at the text; another day may it be our privilege to dive into its depths. THE PLOUGHMAN. "Doth the ploughman plough all day to sow?"--ISAIAH 28:24. UNLESS they are cultivated, fields yield us nothing but briers and thistles. In this we may see ourselves. Unless the great Husbandman shall till us by his grace, we shall produce nothing that is good, but everything that is evil. If one of these days I shall hear that a country has been discovered where wheat grows without the work of the farmer, I may then, perhaps, hope to find one of our race who will bring forth holiness without the grace of God. Hitherto all land on which the foot of man has trodden has needed labor and care; and even so among men the need of gracious tillage is universal. Jesus says to all of us, "Ye must be born again." Unless God the Holy Spirit breaks up the heart with the plough of the law, and sows it with the seed of the gospel, not a single ear of holiness will any of us produce, even though we may be children of godly parents, and may be regarded as excellent moral people by those with whom we live. Yes, and the plough is needed not only to produce that which is good, but to destroy that which is evil. There are diseases which, in the course of ages, wear themselves out, and do not appear again among men; and there may be forms of vice, which under changed circumstances, do not so much abound as they used to do; but human nature will always remain the same, and therefore there will always be plentiful crops of the weeds of sin in man's fields, and nothing can keep these under but spiritual husbandry, carried on by the Spirit of God. You cannot destroy weeds by exhortations, nor can you tear out the roots of sin from the soul by moral suasion; something sharper and more effectual must be brought to bear upon them. God must put his own right hand to the plough, or the hemlock of sin will never give place to the corn of holiness. Good is never spontaneous in unrenewed humanity, and evil is never cut up till the ploughshare of almighty grace is driven through it. The text leads our thoughts in this direction, and gives us practical guidance through asking the simple question, "Doth the ploughman plough all day to sow?" _This question may be answered in the affirmative_, "Yes, in the proper season he does plough all day to sow;" and, secondly, _this text may more properly be answered in the negative_, "No, the ploughman does not plough every day to sow; he has other work to do according to the season." I. First, our text may be ANSWERED IN THE AFFIRMATIVE--"Yes, the ploughman does plough all day to sow." When it is ploughing time he keeps on at it till his work is done; if it requires one day, or two days, or twenty days to finish his fields, he continues at his task while the weather permits. The perseverance of the ploughman is instructive, and it teaches us a double lesson. When the Lord comes to plough the heart of man he ploughs all day, and herein is his patience; and, secondly, so ought the Lord's servants to labor all day with men's hearts, and herein is our perseverance. "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" _So doth God plough the heart of man, and herein is his patience._ The team was in the field in the case of some of us very early in the morning, for our first recollections have to do with conscience and the furrows of pain which it made in our youthful mind. When we were little children we woke in the night under a sense of sin; our father's teaching and our mother's prayers made deep and painful impressions upon us, and though we did not then yield our hearts to God, we were greatly stirred, and all indifference to religion was made impossible. When we were boys at school the reading of a chapter in the Word of God, or the death of a playmate, or an address at a Bible-class, or a solemn sermon, so affected us that we were uneasy for weeks. The strivings of the Spirit of God within urged us to think of higher and better things. Though we quenched the Spirit, though we stifled conviction, yet we bore the marks of the ploughshare; furrows were made in the soul, and certain foul weeds of evil were cut up by the roots although no seed of grace was as yet sown in our hearts. Some have continued in this state for many years, ploughed but not sown; but, blessed be God, it was not so with others of us; for we had not left boyhood before the good seed of the gospel fell upon our heart. Alas! there are many who do not thus yield to grace, and with them the ploughman ploughs all day to sow. I have seen the young man coming to London in his youth, yielding to its temptations, drinking in its poisoned sweets, violating his conscience, and yet continuing unhappy in it all, fearful, unrestful, stirred about even as the soil is agitated by the plough. In how many cases has this kind of work gone on for years, and all to no avail. Ah! and I have known the man come to middle life, and still he has not received the good seed, neither has the ground of his hard heart been thoroughly broken up. He has gone on in business without God; day after day he has risen and gone to bed again with no more religion than his horses: and yet all this while there have been ringing in his ears warnings of judgment to come, and chidings of conscience, so that he has not been at peace. After a powerful sermon he has not enjoyed his meals, or been able to sleep, for he has asked himself, "What shall I do in the end thereof?" The ploughman has ploughed all day, till the evening shadows have lengthened and the day has faded to a close. What a mercy it is when the furrows are at last made ready and the good seed is cast in, to be received, nurtured, and multiplied a hundred fold. It is mournful to remember that we have seen this ploughing continue till the sun has touched the horizon and the night dews have begun to fall. Even then the long-suffering God has followed up his work--ploughing, ploughing, ploughing, ploughing, till darkness ended all. Do I address any aged ones whose lease must soon run out? I would affectionately beseech them to consider their position. What! Threescore years old and yet unsaved? Forty years did God suffer the manners of Israel in the wilderness, but he has borne with you for sixty years. Seventy years old, and yet unregenerated! Ah, my friend, you will have but little time in which to serve your Saviour before you go to heaven. But will you go there at all? Is it not growing dreadfully likely that you will die in your sins and perish for ever? How happy are those who are brought to Christ in early life; but still remember-- "While the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest sinner may return." It is late, it is very late, but is not too late. The ploughman ploughs all day; and the Lord waits that he may be gracious unto you. I have seen many aged persons converted, and therefore I would encourage other old folks to believe in Jesus. I once read a sermon in which a minister asserted that he had seldom known any converted who were over forty years of age if they had been hearers of the gospel all their lives. There is certainly much need to caution those who are guilty of delay, but there must be no manufacturing of facts. Whatever that minister might think, or even observe, my own observation leads me to believe that about as many people are converted to God at one age as at another, taking into consideration the fact that the young are much more numerous than the old. It is a dreadful thing to have remained an unbeliever all these years; but yet the grace of God does not stop short at a certain age; those who enter the vineyard at the eleventh hour shall have their penny, and grace shall be glorified in the old as well as in the young. Come along, old friend, Jesus Christ invites you to come to him even now, though you have stood out so long. You have been a sadly tough piece of ground, and the ploughman has ploughed all day; but if at last the sods are turned, and the heart is lying in ridges, there is hope of you yet. "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" I answer--Yes, however long the day may be, God in mercy ploughs still, he is long-suffering, and full of tenderness and mercy and grace. Do not spurn such patience, but yield to the Lord who has acted toward you with so much gentle love. The text, however, not only sets forth patience on God's part, but it teaches _perseverance on our part_. "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" Yes, he does; then if I am seeking Christ, ought I to be discouraged because I do not immediately find him? The promise is, "He that asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened." There may be reasons why the door is not opened at our first knock. What then? "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" Then will I knock all day. It may be at the first seeking I may not find; what then? "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" Then will I seek all day. It may happen that at my first asking I shall not receive; what then? "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" Then will I ask all day? Friends, if you have begun to seek the Lord, the short way is, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Do that at once. In the name of God do it at once, and you are saved at once. May the Spirit of God bring you to faith in Jesus, and you are at once in the kingdom of Christ. But if peradventure in seeking the Lord, you are ignorant of this, or do not see your way, never give up seeking; get to the foot of the cross, lay hold of it, and cry, "If I perish I will perish here. Lord, I come to thee in Jesus Christ for mercy, and if thou art not pleased to look at me immediately, and forgive my sins, I will cry to thee till thou dost." When God's Holy Spirit brings a man to downright earnest prayer which will not take a denial, he is not far from peace. Careless indifference and shilly-shallying with God hold men in bondage. They find peace when their hearts are roused to strong resolve to seek until they find. I like to see men search the Scriptures till they learn the way of salvation, and hear the gospel till their souls live by it. If they are resolved to drive the plough through doubts, and fears, and difficulties, till they come to salvation, they shall soon come to it by the grace of God. The same is true in seeking the salvation of others. "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" Yes, when it is ploughing-time. Then, so will I work on, and on, and on. I will pray and preach, or pray and teach, however long the day may be that God shall appoint me, for-- "'Tis all my business here below The precious gospel seed to sow." Brother worker, are you getting a little weary? Never mind, rouse yourself, and plough on for the love of Jesus, and dying men. Our day of work has in it only the appointed hours, and while they last let us fulfil our task. Ploughing is hard work; but as there will be no harvest without it, let us just put forth all our strength, and never flag till we have performed our Lord's will, and by his holy Spirit wrought conviction in men's souls. Some soils are very stiff, and cling together, and the labor is heart-breaking; others are like the unreclaimed waste, full of roots and tangled bramble; they need a steam plough, and we must pray the Lord to make us such, for we cannot leave them untilled, and therefore we must put forth more strength that the labor may be done. I heard some time ago of a minister who called to see a poor man who was dying, but he was not able to gain admittance; he called the next morning, and some idle excuse was made so that he could not see him; he called again the next morning, but he was still refused; he went on till he called twenty times in vain, but on the twenty-first occasion he was permitted to see the sufferer, and by God's grace he saved a soul from death. "Why do you tell your child a thing twenty times?" asked some one of a mother. "Because," said she, "I find nineteen times is not enough." Now, when a soul is to be ploughed, it may so happen that hundreds of furrows will not do it. What then? Why, plough all day till the work is done. Whether you are ministers, missionaries, teachers, or private soul-winners, never grow weary, for your work is noble, and the reward of it is infinite. The grace of God is seen in our being permitted to engage in such holy service; it is greatly magnified in sustaining us in it, and it will be pre-eminently conspicuous in enabling us to hold out till we can say, "I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do." We prize that which costs us labor and service, and we shall set all the higher value upon the saved ones when the Lord grants them to our efforts. It is good for us to learn the value of our sheaves by going forth weeping to the sowing. When you think of the ploughman's ploughing all day, be moved to plod on in earnest efforts to win souls. Seek-- "With cries, entreaties, tears to save And snatch them from the fiery wave." Doth the ploughman plough all day for a little bit of oats or barley, and will not you plough all day for souls that shall live for ever, if saved, to adore the grace of God, or shall live for ever, if unsaved, in outer darkness and woe? Oh, by the terrors of the wrath to come and the glory that is to be revealed, gird up your loins, and plough all day. I would beg all the members of our churches to keep their hands on the gospel plough, and their eyes straight before them. "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" let Christians do the same. Start close to the hedge, and go right down to the bottom of the field. Plough as close to the ditch as you can, and leave small headlands. What though there are fallen women, thieves, and drunkards in the slums around, do not neglect any of them; for if you leave a stretch of land to the weeds they will soon spread among the wheat. When you have gone right to the end of the field once, what shall you do next? Why, just turn round, and make for the place you started from. And when you have thus been up and down, what next? Why, up and down again. And what next? Why, up and down again. You have visited that district with tracts; do it again, fifty-two times in the year--multiply your furrows. We must learn how to continue in well doing. Your eternal destiny is to go on doing good for ever and ever, and it is well to go through a rehearsal here. So just plough on, plough on, and look for results as the reward of continued perseverance. Ploughing is not done with a skip and jump; the ploughman ploughs all day. Dash and flash are all very fine in some things, but not in ploughing; there the work must be steady, persistent, regular. Certain persons soon give it up, it wears out their gloves, blisters their soft hands, tires their bones, and makes them eat their bread rather more in the sweat of their face than they care for. Those whom the Lord fills with his grace will keep to their ploughing year after year, and verily I say unto you, they shall have their reward. "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" Then let us do the same, being assured that one day every hill and valley shall be tilled and sown, and every desert and wilderness shall yield a harvest for our Lord, and the angel reapers shall descend, and the shouts of the harvest-home shall fill both earth and heaven. II. But, now, somewhat briefly, THE TEXT MAY BE ANSWERED IN THE NEGATIVE. "Doth the ploughman plough all day to sow?" No, he does not always plough. After he has ploughed he breaks the clods, sows, reaps, and threshes. In the chapter before us you will see that other works of husbandry are mentioned. The ploughman has many other things to do beside ploughing. There is an advance in what he does; this teaches us that there is the like on God's part, and should be the like on ours. First, _on God's part, there is an advance in what he does_. "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" No, he goes forward to other matters. It may be that in the case of some of you the Lord has been using certain painful agencies to plough you. You are feeling the terrors of the law, the bitterness of sin, the holiness of God, the weakness of the flesh, and the shadow of the wrath to come. Is this going to last forever? Will it continue till the spirit fails and the soul expires? Listen: "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" No, he is preparing for something else--he ploughs to sow. Thus doth the Lord deal with you; therefore be of good courage, there is an ending to the wounding and slaying, and better things are in store for you. You are poor and needy, and you seek water, and there is none and your tongue faileth for thirst; but the Lord will hear you, and deliver you. He will not contend forever, neither will he be always wroth. He will turn again, and he will have compassion upon us. He will not always make furrows by his chiding, he will come and cast in the precious corn of consolation, and water it with the dews of heaven and smile upon it with the sunlight of his grace; and there shall soon be in you, first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear, and in due season you shall joy as with the joy of harvest. O ye who are sore wounded in the place of dragons, I hear you cry, Doth God always send terror and conviction of sin? Listen to this: "If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land," and what is the call of God to the willing and obedient but this: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." Thou shalt be saved now, find peace now, if thou wilt have done with thyself and all looking to thine own good works to save thee, and wilt turn to him who paid the ransom for thee upon the tree. The Lord is gentle and tender and full of compassion, he will not always chide, neither will he keep his anger for ever. Many of your doubts and fears come of unbelief, or of Satan, or of the flesh, and are not of God at all. Blame him not for what he does not send, and does not wish you to suffer. His mind is for your peace, not for your distress; for thus he speaks: "Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned." "I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins: return unto me; for I have redeemed thee." He has smitten, but he will smile; he has wounded, but he will heal; he has slain, but he will make alive; therefore turn unto him at once and receive comfort at his hands. The ploughman does not plough for ever, else would he reap no harvest; and God is not always heart-breaking, he also draws near on heart-healing errands. You see, then, that the great husbandman advances from painful agencies, and I want you to mark that he goes on to _productive work_ in the hearts of his people. He will take away the furrows, you shall not see them, for the corn will cover them with beauty. As she that was in travail remembers no more her sorrow for joy that a man is born into the world, so shall you, who are under the legal rod, remember no more the misery of conviction, for God will sow you with grace, and make your soul, even your poor, barren soul, to bring forth fruit unto his praise and glory. "Oh!" says one, "I wish that would come true to me." It will. "Doth the ploughman plough all day to sow?" You expect by-and-by to see ploughed fields clothed with springing corn; and you may look to see repentant hearts gladdened with forgiveness. Therefore, be of good courage. You shall advance, also, to a _joyful experience_. See that ploughman; he whistles as he ploughs, he does not own much of this world's goods, but yet he is merry. He looks forward to the day when he will be on the top of the big wagon, joining in the shout of the harvest home, and so he ploughs in hope, expecting a crop. And, dear soul, God will yet joy and rejoice over you when you believe in Jesus Christ, and you, too, shall be brimful of joy. Be of good cheer, the better portion is yet to come, press forward to it. Gospel sorrowing leads on to gospel hoping, believing, rejoicing, and the rejoicing knows no end. God will not chasten all day, but he will lead you on from strength to strength, from glory unto glory, till you shall be like himself. This, then, is the advance that there is in God's work among men, from painful agencies to productive work and joyful experience. But what if the ploughing should never lead to sowing; what if you should be disturbed in conscience, and should go on to resist it all? Then God will make another advance, but it will be to put up the plough, and to command the clouds that they rain no rain upon the land, and then its end is to be burned. Oh! man, there is nothing more awful than for your soul to be left to go out of cultivation; God himself giving you up. Surely that is hell. He that is unholy will be unholy still. The law of fixity of character will operate eternally, and no hand of the merciful One shall come near to till the soul again. What worse than this can happen? We conclude by saying that _this advance is a lesson to us_; for we, too, are to go forward. "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" No, he ploughs to sow, and in due time he sows. Some churches seem to think that all they have to do is to plough; at least, all they attempt is a kind of scratching of the soil, and talking of what they are going to do. It is fine talk, certainly; but doth the ploughman plough all day? You may draw up a large programme and promise great things; but pray do not stop there. Don't be making furrows all day; do get to your sowing. I fancy that those who promise most perform the least. Men who do much in the world have no programme at first, their course works itself out by its own inner force by the grace of God; they do not propose but perform. They do not plough all day to sow, but they are like our Lord's servant in the parable of whom he saith, "the sower went forth to sow." Let the ministers of Christ also follow the rule of advance. _Let us go from preaching the law to preaching the gospel._ "Doth the ploughman plough all day?" He does plough; he would not sow in hope if he had not first prepared the ground. Robbie Flockart, who preached for years in the Edinboro' streets, says, "It is in vain to sew with the silk thread of the gospel, unless you use the sharp needle of the law." Some of my brethren do not care to preach eternal wrath and its terrors. This is a cruel mercy, for they ruin souls by hiding from them their ruin. If they must needs try to sew without a needle, I cannot help it; but I do not mean to be so foolish myself; my needle may be old-fashioned, but it is sharp, and when it carries with it the silken thread of the gospel, I am sure good work is done by it. You cannot get a harvest if you are afraid of disturbing the soil, nor can you save souls if you never warn them of hell fire. We must tell the sinner what God has revealed about sin, righteousness, and judgment to come. Still, brethren, we must not plough all day. No, no, the preaching of the law is only preparatory to the preaching of the gospel. The stress of our business lies in proclaiming glad tidings. We are not followers of John the Baptist, but of Jesus Christ; we are not rugged prophets of woe, but joyful heralds of grace. Be not satisfied with revival services, and stirring appeals, but preach the doctrines of grace so as to bring out the full compass of covenant truth. Ploughing has had its turn, now for planting and watering. Reproof may now give place to consolation. We are first to make disciples of men, and then to teach them to observe all things whatsoever Jesus has commanded us. We must pass on from the rudiments to the higher truths, from laying foundations to further upbuilding. And now, another lesson to those of you who are as yet hearers and nothing more. I want you to go from ploughing to something better, namely, _from hearing and fearing to believing_. How many years some of you have been hearing the gospel! Do you mean to continue in that state for ever? Will you never believe in him of whom you hear so much? You have been stirred up a good deal; the other night you went home almost broken-hearted; I should think you are ploughed enough by this time; and yet you have not received the seed of eternal life, for you have not believed in the Lord Jesus. It is dreadful to be always on the brink of everlasting life, and yet never to be alive. It will be an awful thing to be almost in heaven, and yet forever shut out. It is a wretched thing to rush into a railway station just in time to see the train steaming out; I had much rather be half-an-hour behind time. To lose a train by half-a-second is most annoying. Alas, if you go on as you have done for years, you will have your hand on the latch of heaven, and yet be shut out. You will be within a hair's-breadth of glory, and yet be covered with eternal shame. O beware of being so near to the kingdom, and yet lost; almost, but not altogether saved. God grant that you may not be among those who are ploughed, and ploughed, and ploughed, and yet never sown. It will be of no avail at the last to cry, "Lord, we have eaten and drunk in thy presence, and thou hast taught in our streets. We had a seat at the chapel, we attended the services on week-nights as well as on Sundays, we went to prayer-meetings, we joined a Bible-class, we distributed tracts, we subscribed our guinea to the funds, we gave up every open sin, we used a form of prayer, and read a chapter of the Bible every day." All these things may be done, and yet there may be no saving faith in the Lord Jesus. Take heed lest your Lord should answer, "With all this, your heart never came to me; therefore, depart from me, I never knew you." If Jesus once knows a man he always knows him. He can never say to _me_, "I never knew you," for he has known me, as his poor dependant, a beggar for years at his door. Some of you have been all that is good except that you never came into contact with Christ, never trusted him, never knew him. Ah me, how sad your state! Will it be always so? Lastly, I would say to you who are being ploughed and are agitated about your souls, Go at once to the next stage of believing. Oh! if people did but know how simple a thing believing is, surely they would believe. Alas, they do not know it, and it becomes all the more difficult to them because in itself it is so easy. The difficulty of believing lies in there being no difficulty in it. "If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not have done it?" Oh, yes, you would have done it, and you would have thought it easy too; but when he simply says, "Wash, and be clean," there is a difficulty with pride and self. If you can truly say that you are willing to abase your pride, and do anything which the Lord bids you, then I pray you understand that there is no further preparation required, and believe in Jesus at once. May the Holy Spirit make you sick of self, and ready to accept the gospel. The word is nigh thee, let it be believed; it is in thy mouth, let it be swallowed down; it is in thy heart, let it be trusted. With your heart believe in Jesus, and with your mouth make confession of him, and you shall be saved. A main part of faith lies in the giving up of all other confidences. O give up at once every false hope. I tried once to show what faith was by quoting Dr. Watts's lines: "A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, On thy kind arms I fall. Be thou my strength, and righteousness, My Jesus and my all." I tried to represent faith as falling into Christ's arms, and I thought I made it so plain that the wayfaring man could not err therein. When I had finished preaching, a young man came to me and said, "But, sir, I cannot fall upon Christ's arms." I replied at once, "Tumble into them anyhow; faint away into Christ's arms, or die into Christ's arms, so long as you get there." Many talk of what they can do and what they cannot do, and I fear they miss the vital point. Faith is leaving off can-ing and cannot-ing, and leaving it all to Christ, for _he_ can do all things, though you can do nothing. "Doth the ploughman plough all day to sow?" No, he makes progress, and goes from ploughing to sowing. Go, and do thou likewise; sow unto the Spirit the precious seed of faith in Christ, and the Lord will give thee a joyous harvest. PLOUGHING THE ROCK. "Shall horses run upon the rock? will one plough there with oxen?"--AMOS 6:12. THESE expressions are proverbs, taken from the familiar sayings of the east country. A proverb is generally a sword with two edges, or, if I may so say, it has many edges, or is all edge, and hence it may be turned this way and that way, and every part of it will have force and point. A proverb has often many bearings, and you cannot always tell what was the precise meaning of him who uttered it. The connection would abundantly tolerate two senses in this place. An ancient commentator asserts that it has seven meanings, and that any one of them would be consistent with the context. I cannot deny the assertion, and if it be correct it is only one among many instances of the manifold wisdom of the Word of God. Like those curiously carved Chinese balls in which there is one ball within another, so in many a holy text there is sense within sense, teaching within teaching, and each one worthy of the Spirit of God. The first sense of the text upon which I would say just a word or two is this: The prophet is expostulating with ungodly men upon their _pursuit of happiness where it never can be found_. They were endeavoring to grow rich and great and strong by oppression. The prophet says, "Ye have turned judgment into gall, and the fruit of righteousness into hemlock." Justice was bought and sold among them, and the book of the law was made the instrument of fraud. "Yet," says the prophet, "there is no gain to be gotten in this way--no real profit, no true happiness. As well may horses run upon a rock, and oxen plough the sand; it is labor in vain." If any of you try to content yourselves with this world, any hope to find a heaven in the midst of your business and your family without looking upward for it, you labor in vain. If you hope to find pleasure in sin, and think that it will go well with you if you despise the law of God, you will make a great mistake. You might as well seek for roses in the grottoes of the sea, or look for pearls on the pavements of the city. You will find what your soul requires nowhere but in God. To seek after happiness in evil deeds is to plough a rock of granite. To labor after true prosperity by dishonest means is as useless as to till the sandy shore. "Wherefore do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which satisfieth not?" Young man, you are killing yourself with ambition; you seek your own honor and emolument, and this is a poor, poor object for an immortal soul. And you, too, sir, are wearing out your life with care; your mind and body both fail you in endeavoring to amass riches, as if a man's life consisted in the abundance of the things which he possesses; you are ploughing a rock; your cares will not bring you joy of heart or content of spirit; your toil will end in failure. And you, too, who labor to weave a righteousness by your works apart from Christ and fancy that with the diligent use of outward ceremonies you may be able to do the work of the Holy Spirit upon your own heart, you, too, are ploughing thankless rock. The strength of fallen nature exerted at its utmost can never save a soul. Why, then, plough the rock any longer? Give over the foolish task. So far, I believe, we have not misread the text, but have mentioned a very probable meaning of the words; still another strikes me, which I think equally suitable, and upon it I shall dwell, by God's help. It is this. _God will not always send his ministers to call men to repentance._ When men's hearts remain obdurate, and they do not and will not repent, then God will not always deal with them in mercy. "My Spirit shall not always strive with man." There is a time of ploughing, but when it is evident that the heart is wilfully hardened, then wisdom itself suggests to mercy that she should give over her efforts. "Shall horses run upon the rock? will one plough there with oxen?" No, there is a limit to the efforts of kindness, and in fulness of time the labor ceases, and the rock remains unploughed henceforth and for ever. I. Taking that sense, we shall speak upon it, and remark, first, that MINISTERS LABOR TO BREAK UP MEN'S HEARTS; the wise preacher tries by the power of the Holy Ghost to break up the hard clods of the heart, so that it may receive the heavenly seed. Many truths are used like sharp ploughshares to break up the heart. Men must be made to feel that they have sinned, and they must be led to repent of sin. They must receive Christ, not with the head only, but with the heart; for with the heart man believeth unto righteousness. There must be emotion; we must cut into the heart with the ploughshare of the law. A farmer who is too tender-hearted to tear and harrow the land will never see a harvest. Here is the failing of certain divines, they are afraid of hurting any one's feelings, and so they keep clear of all the truths which are likely to excite fear or grief. They have not a sharp ploughshare on their premises, and are never likely to have a stack in their rickyard. They angle without hooks for fear of hurting the fish, and fire without bullets out of respect to the feelings of the birds. This kind of love is real cruelty to men's souls. It is much the same as if a surgeon should permit a patient to die because he would not pain him with the lancet, or by the necessary removal of a limb. It is a terrible tenderness which leaves men to sink into hell rather than distress their minds. It is pleasant to prophesy smooth things, but woe unto the man who thus degrades himself. Is this the spirit of Christ? Did he conceal the sinner's peril? Did he cast doubt upon the unquenchable fire and the undying worm? Did he lull souls into slumber by smooth strains of flattery? Nay, but with honest love and anxious concern he warned men of the wrath to come, and bade them repent or perish. Let the servant of the Lord Jesus in this thing follow his Master, and plough deep with a sharp ploughshare, which will not be balked by the hardest clods. This we must school ourselves to do. If we really love the souls of men, let us prove it by honest speech. The hard heart must be broken, or it will still refuse the Saviour who was sent to bind up the broken-hearted. There are some things which men may or may not have, and yet may be saved; but those things which go with the ploughing of the heart are indispensable; there must be a holy fear and a humble trembling before God; there must be an acknowledgment of guilt and a penitent petition for mercy; there must, in a word, be a thorough ploughing of the soul before we can expect the seed to bring forth fruit. II. But the text indicates to us that AT TIMES MINISTERS LABOR IN VAIN. "Shall horses run upon the rock? will one plough there with oxen?" In a short time a ploughman feels whether the plough will go or not, and so does the minister. He may use the very same words in one place which he has used in another, but he feels in the one place great joy and hopefulness in preaching, while with another audience he has heavy work, and little hope. The plough in the last case seems to jump out of the furrow; and a bit of the share is broken off now and then. He says to himself, "I do not know how it is, but I do not get on at this," and he finds that his Master has sent him to work upon a particularly heavy soil. All laborers for Christ know that this is occasionally the case. You must have found it so in a Sunday-school class, or in a cottage meeting, or in any other gathering where you have tried to teach and preach Jesus. You have said to yourself every now and then, "Now I am ploughing a rock. Before, I turned up rich mould which a yoke of oxen might plough with ease, and a horse might even run at the work; but now the horse may tug, and the oxen may wearily toil till they gall their shoulders, but they cannot cut a furrow; the rock is stubborn to the last degree." There are such hearers in all congregations. They are as iron, and yet they are side by side with a fine plot of ground. Their sister, their brother, their son, their daughter, all these have readily felt the power of the gospel; but _they_ do not feel it. They hear it respectfully; and they so far allow it free course that they permit it to go in at one ear and out at the other, but they will have nothing more to do with it. They would not like to be Sabbath-breakers and stop away from worship; they therefore do the gospel the questionable compliment of coming where it is preached and then refusing to regard it. They are hard, hard, hard bits of rock, the plough does not touch them. Many, on the other hand, are equally hard; but it is in another way. The impression made by the word is not deep or permanent. They receive it with joy, but they do not retain it. They listen with attention, but it never comes to practice with them. They hear about repentance, but they never repent. They hear about faith, but they never believe. They are good judges of what the gospel is, and yet they have never accepted it for themselves. They will not eat; but still they insist that good bread shall be put on the table. They are great sticklers for the very things which they personally reject. They are moved to feeling; they shed tears occasionally; but still their hearts are not really broken up by the word. They go their way, and forget what manner of men they are. They are rocky-hearted through and through; all our attempts to plough them are failures. Now this is all the worse, because certain of these rocky-hearted people have been ploughed for years, and have become harder instead of softer. Once or twice ploughing, and a broken share or two, and a disappointed ploughman or two, we might not mind, if they would yield at last; but these have since their childhood known the gospel and never given way before its power. It is a good while since their childhood now with some of them. Their hair is turning gray, and they themselves are getting feeble with years. They have been entreated and persuaded times beyond number, but labor has been lost upon them. In fact, they used to feel the word, in a certain fashion, far more years ago than they do now. The sun, which softens wax, hardens clay, and the same gospel which has brought others to tenderness and repentance has exercised a contrary effect upon them, and made them more careless about divine things than they were in their youth. This is a mournful state of things, is it not? Why are certain men so extremely rocky? Some are so from a _peculiar stolidity of nature_. There are many people in the world whom you cannot very well move, they have a great deal of granite in their constitution, and are more nearly related to Mr. Obstinate than to Mr. Pliable. Now, I do not think badly of these people, because one knows what it is to preach to an excitable people, and to get them all stirred, and to know that in the end they are none the better; whereas some of the more stolid and immovable people when they are moved are moved indeed; when they do feel they feel intensely, and they retain any impression that is made. A little chip made in granite by very hard blows will abide there, while the lashing of water, which is easy enough, will leave no trace even for a moment. It is a grand thing to get hold of a fine piece of rock and to exercise faith about it. The Lord's own hammer has mighty power to break, and in the breaking great glory comes to the Most High. Worse still, certain men are hard because of their _infidelity_--not heart-infidelity all of it, but an infidelity which springs out of a desire not to believe, which has helped them to discover difficulties. These difficulties exist, and were meant to exist, for there would be no room for faith if everything were as plain as the nose on one's face. These persons have gradually come to doubt, or to think that they doubt, essential truths, and this renders them impervious to the gospel of Christ. A much more numerous body are orthodox enough, but hard-hearted for all that. _Worldliness_ hardens a man in every way. It often dries up all charity to the poor, because the man must make money, and he thinks that the poor-rates are sufficient excuse for neglecting the offices of charity. He has no time to think of the next world; he must spend all his thoughts upon the present one. Money is tight, and therefore he must hold it tight; and when money brings in little interest, he finds therein a reason for being the more niggardly. He has no time for prayer, he _must_ get down to the counting-house. He has no time for reading his Bible, his ledger wants him. You may knock at his door, but his heart is not at home; it is in the counting-house, wherein he lives and moves and has his being. His god is his gold, his bliss is his business, his all in all is himself. What is the use of preaching to him? As well may horses run upon a rock, or oxen drag a plough across a field sheeted with iron a mile thick. With some, too, there is a hardness, produced by what I might almost call the opposite of stern worldliness, namely, a _general levity_. They are naturally butterflies flitting about and doing nothing. They never think, or want to think. Half a thought exhausts them, and they must needs be diverted, or their feeble minds will utterly weary. They live in a round of amusement. To them the world is a stage, and all the men and women only players. It is of little use to preach to them; there is no depth of earth in their superficial nature; beneath a sprinkling of shifting worthless sand lies an impenetrable rock of utter stupidity and senselessness. I might thus multiply reasons why some are harder than others, but it is a well-assured fact that they are so, and there I leave the matter. III. I shall now ask everybody to judge whether the running of horses upon a rock and the ploughing there with oxen shall always be continued. I assert that IT IS UNREASONABLE TO EXPECT THAT GOD'S SERVANTS SHOULD ALWAYS CONTINUE TO LABOR IN VAIN. These people have been preached to, taught, instructed, admonished, expostulated with, and advised; shall this unrecompensed work be always performed? We have given them a fair trial; what do reason and prudence say? Are we bound to persevere till we are worn out by this unsuccessful work? We will ask it of men who plough their own farms; do they recommend perseverance when failure is certain? Shall horses run upon the rock? Shall one plough there with oxen? Surely not for ever. I think we shall all agree that labor in vain cannot be continued for ever if we consider _the ploughman_. He does not want to be much considered; but still his Master does not overlook him. See how weary he grows when the work discourages him. He goes to his Master with, "Who hath believed our report, and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?" "Why hast thou sent me," says he, "to a people that have ears but hear not? They sit as thy people sit, and they hear as thy people hear, and then they go their way and they forget every word that is spoken, and they obey not the voice of the Lord." See how disappointed the preacher becomes. It is always hard work when you appear to get no forwarder, although you do your utmost. No man, whoever he may be, likes to be set upon work which appears to be altogether a waste of time and effort. To his own mind it seems to have a touch of the ridiculous about it, and he fears that he will be despised of his fellows for aiming at the impossible. Shall it always be the lot of God's ministers to be trifled with? Will the great Husbandman bid his ploughmen spill their lives for nought? Must his preachers continue to cast pearls before swine? If the consecrated workers are so bidden by their Lord they will persevere in their painful task; but their Master is considerate of them, and I ask _you_ also to consider whether it is reasonable to expect a zealous heart to be for ever occupied with the salvation of those who never respond to its anxiety? Shall the horses always plough upon the rock? Shall the oxen always labor there? Again, there is _the Master_ to be considered. The Lord--is he always to be resisted and provoked? Many of you have had eternal life set before you as the result of believing in Jesus; and you have refused to believe. It is a wonder that my Lord has not said to me, "You have done your duty with them; never set Christ before them again; my Son shall not be insulted." If you offer a beggar in the street a shilling and he will not have it, you cheerfully put it into your purse and go your way; you do not entreat him to have his wants relieved. But, behold, our God in mercy begs sinners to come to him, and implores them to accept his Son. In his condescension he even stands like a salesman in the market, crying, "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come, buy wine and milk without money and without price." In another place he says of himself, "All day long have I stretched out my hands to a disobedient and gainsaying generation." If the Lord of mercy has been refused so long in the sight of you who reverence him, does not some indignation mingle with your pity, and while you love sinners and would have them saved, do you not feel in your heart that there must be an end to such insulting behavior? I ask even the careless to think of the matter in this light, and if they do not respect the ploughman, yet let them have regard to his Master. And then, again, there are so many _other people_ who are needing the gospel, and who would receive it if they had it, that it would seem to be wise to leave off wearying oneself about those who despise it. What did our Lord say? He said that if the mighty things which had been done in Bethsaida and Chorazin had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented. What is more wonderful still, he says that if he had wrought the same miracles in Sodom and Gomorrah which were wrought in Capernaum, they would have repented in sackcloth and ashes. Does it not occur to us at once to give the word to those who will have it, and leave the despisers to perish in their own wilfulness? Does not reason say, "Let us send this medicine where there are sick people who will value it?" Thousands of people are willing to hear the gospel. See how they crowd wherever the preacher goes--how they tread upon one another in their anxiety to listen to him; and if these people who hear him every day will not receive his message, "in God's name," saith he, "let me go where there is a probability of finding soil that can be ploughed." "Shall horses run upon the rock? Will one plough there with oxen?" Must I work always where nothing comes of it? Does not reason say, let the word go to China, to Hindostan, or to the utmost parts of the earth, where they will receive it; for those who have it preached in the corners of their streets despise it? I shall not lengthen this argument, but shall solemnly put the question again. Would any of you continue to pursue an object when it has proved to be hopeless? Do you wonder that when the Lord has sent his servants to speak kind, gracious, tender words, and men have not heard, he says to them, "They are joined unto their idols; let them alone"? There is a boundary to the patience of men, and we soon arrive at it; and assuredly there is a limit, though it is long before we outrun it, to the patience of God. "At length," he says, "it is enough. My Spirit shall no longer strive with them." If the Lord says this can any of us complain? Is not this the way of wisdom? Does not prudence itself dictate it? Any thoughtful mind will say, "Ay, ay, a rock cannot be ploughed for ever." IV. Fourthly. THERE MUST BE AN ALTERATION, then, and that speedily. The oxen shall be taken off from such toil. It can be easily done, and done soon. It can be effected in three ways. First, the unprofitable hearer can be removed so that he shall no more hear the gospel from the lips of his best approved minister. There is a preacher who has some sort of power over him; but as he rejects his testimony, and remains impenitent, the man shall be removed to another town, where he shall hear monotonous discourses which will not touch his conscience. He shall go where he shall be no longer persuaded and entreated; and there he will sleep himself into hell. That may be readily enough done; perhaps some of you are making arrangements even now for your own removal from the field of hope. Another way is to take away the ploughman. He has done his work as best he could, and he shall be released from his hopeless task. He is weary. Let him go home. The soil would not break up, but he could not help that; let him have his wage. He has broken his plough at the work; let him go home and hear his Lord say, "Well done." He was willing to keep on at the disheartening labor as long as his Master bade him; but it is evidently useless, therefore let him go home, for his work is done. He has been sore sick, let him die, and enter into his rest. This is by no means improbable. Or, there may happen something else. The Lord may say, "That piece of work shall never trouble the ploughman any more. I will take it away." And he may take it away in this fashion: the man who has heard the gospel, but rejected it, will die. I pray my Master that he will not suffer any one of you to die in your sins, for then we cannot reach you any more, or indulge the faintest hope for you. No prayer of ours can follow you into eternity. There is one name by which you may be saved, and that name is sounded in your ears--the name of Jesus; but if you reject him now, even that name will not save you. If you do not take Jesus to be your Saviour he will appear as your judge. I pray you, do not destroy your own souls by continuing to be obstinate against almighty love. God grant that some better thing may happen. Can nothing else be done? This soil is rock; can we not sow it without breaking it? No. Without repentance there is no remission of sin. But is there not a way of saving men without the grace of God? The Lord Jesus did not say so; but he said, "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned." He did not hint at a middle course or hold out a "larger hope;" but he declared "He that believeth not shall be damned," _and so he must be_. Dream not of a back door to heaven, for the Lord has provided none. What then? Shall the preacher continue his fruitless toil? If there is only half a hope left him, he is willing to go on and say, "Hear, ye deaf, and see, ye blind, and live, ye dead." He will even so speak this day, for his Master bids him preach the gospel to every creature; but it will be hard work to repeat the word of exhortation for years to those who will not hear it. Happily there is one other turn which affairs may take. There is a God in heaven, let us pray to him to put forth his power. Jesus is at his side, let us invoke his interposition. The Holy Ghost is almighty, let us call for his aid. Brothers who plough and sisters who pray, cry to the Master for help. The horse and the ox evidently fail, but there remains One above who is able to work great marvels. Did he not once speak to the rock, and turn the flint into a stream of water? Let us pray him to do the same now. And, oh, if there is one who feels and mourns that his heart is like a piece of rock, I am glad he feels it; for he who feels that his heart is a rock gives some evidence that the flint is being transformed. O rock, instead of smiting thee, as Moses smote the rock in the wilderness and erred therein, I would speak to thee. O rock, wouldst thou become like wax? O rock, wouldst thou dissolve into rivers of repentance? Hearken to God's voice! O rock, break with good desire! O rock, dissolve with longing after Christ, for God is working upon thee now. Who knows but at this very moment thou shall begin to crumble down. Dost thou feel the power of the Word? Does the sharp ploughshare touch thee just now? Break and break again, till by contrition thou art dissolved, for then will the good seed of the gospel come to thee, and thou shalt receive it into thy bosom, and we shall all behold the fruit thereof. And so I will fling one more handful of good corn, and have done. If thou desirest eternal life, trust Jesus Christ, and thou art saved at once. "Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth," says Christ, "for I am God, and beside me there is none else." He that believeth in him hath everlasting life. "Like as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life." O Lord, break up the rock, and let the seed drop in among its broken substance, and get thou a harvest from the dissolved granite, at this time, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER. "And when much people were gathered together, and were come to him out of every city, he spake by a parable: a sower went out to sow his seed: and as he sowed, some fell by the wayside; and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it. And some fell upon a rock; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it lacked moisture. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it and choked it. And other fell on good ground, and sprang up, and bare fruit an hundredfold. And when he had said these things, he cried, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear."--LUKE 8:4-8. IN our country, when a sower goes forth to his work, he generally enters into an enclosed field, and scatters the seed from his basket along every ridge and furrow; but in the East, the corn-growing country, hard by a small town, is usually an open area. It is divided into different properties, but there are no visible divisions, except the ancient landmarks, or perhaps ridges of stones. Through these open lands there are footpaths, the most frequented being called the highways. You must not imagine these highways to be like our macadamized roads; they are merely paths, trodden tolerably hard. Here and there you notice by-ways, along which travellers who wish to avoid the public road may journey with a little more safety when the main road is infested with robbers; hasty travellers also strike out short cuts for themselves, and so open fresh tracks for others. When the sower goes forth to sow he finds a plot of ground scratched over with the primitive Eastern plough; he aims at scattering his seed there most plentifully; but a path runs through the centre of his field, and unless he is willing to leave a broad headland, he must throw a handful upon it. Yonder, a rock crops out in the midst of the ploughed land, and the seed falls on its shallow soil. Here is a corner full of the roots of nettles and thistles, and he flings a little here; the corn and the nettles come up together, and the thorns being the stronger soon choke the seed, so that it brings forth no fruit unto perfection. The recollection that the Bible was written in the East, and that its metaphors and allusions must be explained to us by Eastern travellers, will often help us to understand a passage far better than if we think of English customs. The preacher of the gospel is like the sower. He does not make his seed; it is given him by his divine Master. No man could create the smallest grain that ever grew upon the earth, much less the celestial seed of eternal life. The minister goes to his Master in secret, and asks him to teach him his gospel, and thus he fills his basket with the good seed of the kingdom. He then goes forth in his Master's name and scatters precious truth. If he knew where the best soil was to be found, perhaps he might limit himself to that which had been prepared by the plough of conviction; but not knowing men's hearts, it is his business to preach the gospel to every creature--to throw a handful on the hardened heart, and another on the mind which is overgrown with the cares and pleasures of the world. He has to leave the seed in the care of the Lord who gave it to him, for he is not responsible for the harvest, he is only accountable for the care and industry with which he does his work. If no single ear should ever make glad the reaper, the sower will be rewarded by his Master if he had planted the right seed with careful hand. If it were not for this fact with what despairing agony should we utter the cry of Esaias, "Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?" Our duty is not measured by the character of our hearers, but by the command of our God. We are bound to preach the gospel, whether men will hear, or whether they will forbear. It is ours to sow beside all waters. Let men's hearts be what they may the minister must preach the gospel to them; he must sow the seed on the rock as well as in the furrow, on the highway as well as in the ploughed field. I shall now address myself to the four classes of hearers mentioned in our Lord's parable. We have, first of all, those who are represented by the _way-side_, those who are "hearers only"; then those represented by the _stony ground_; these are transiently impressed, but the word produces no lasting fruit; then, those _among thorns_, on whom a good impression is produced, but the cares of this life, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the pleasures of the world choke the seed; and lastly, that small class--God be pleased to multiply it exceedingly--that small class of _good ground_ hearers, in whom the Word brings forth abundant fruit. I. First of all, I address myself to those hearts which are like the WAY-SIDE: "Some fell by the wayside; and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it." Many of you do not go to the place of worship desiring a blessing. You do not intend to worship God, or to be affected by anything that you hear. You are like the highway, which was never intended to be a cornfield. If a single grain of truth should fall into your heart and grow it would be as great a wonder as for corn to grow up in the street. If the seed shall be dexterously scattered, some of it will fall upon you, and rest for a while upon your thoughts. 'Tis true you will not understand it; but, nevertheless, if it be placed before you in an interesting style, you will talk about it till some more congenial entertainment shall attract you. Even this slender benefit is brief, for in a little season you will forget all that you have heard. Would to God we could hope that our words would tarry with you; but we cannot hope it, for the soil of your heart is so hard beaten by continual traffic, that there is no hope of the seed finding a living root-hold. Satan is constantly passing over your heart with his company of blasphemies, lusts, lies, and vanities. The chariots of pride roll along it, and the feet of greedy mammon tread it till it is hard as adamant. Alas! for the good seed, it finds not a moment's respite; crowds pass and repass; in fact, your soul is an exchange, across which continually hurry the busy feet of those who make merchandise of the souls of men. You are buying and selling, but you little think that you are selling the truth, and that you are buying your soul's destruction. You have no time, you say, to think of religion. No, the road of your heart is such a crowded thoroughfare, that there is no room for the wheat to spring up. If it did begin to germinate, some rough foot would crush the green blade ere it could come to perfection. The seed has occasionally lain long enough to begin to sprout, but just then a new place of amusement has been opened, and you have entered there, and as with an iron heel, the germ of life that was in the seed was crushed out. Corn could not grow in Cornhill or Cheapside, however excellent the seed might be; your heart is just like those crowded thoroughfares; for so many cares and sins throng it, and so many proud, vain, evil, rebellious thoughts against God pass through it, that the seed of truth cannot grow. We have looked at this hard roadside, let us now describe what becomes of the good word, when it falls upon such a heart. It would have grown if it had fallen on right soil, but it has dropped into the wrong place, and it remains as dry as when it fell from the sower's hand. The word of the gospel lies upon the surface of such a heart, but never enters it. Like the snow, which sometimes falls upon our streets, drops upon the wet pavement, melts, and is gone at once, so is it with this man. The word has not time to quicken in his soul; it lies there an instant, but it never strikes root, or takes the slightest effect. Why do men come to hear if the word never enters their hearts? That has often puzzled us. Some hearers would not be absent on the Sunday on any account; they are delighted to come up with us to worship, but yet the tear never trickles down their cheek, their soul never mounts up to heaven on the wings of praise, nor do they truly join in our confessions of sin. They do not think of the wrath to come, nor of the future state of their souls. Their heart is as iron; the minister might as well speak to a heap of stones as preach to them. What brings these senseless sinners here? Surely we are as hopeful of converting lions and leopards as these untamed, insensible hearts. Oh feeling! thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason! Do these people come to our assemblies because it is respectable to attend a place of worship? Or is it that their coming helps to make them comfortable in their sins? If they stopped away conscience would prick them; but they come hither that they may flatter themselves with the notion that they are religious. Oh! my hearers, your case is one that might make an angel weep! How sad to have the sun of the gospel shining on your faces, and yet to have blind eyes that never see the light! The music of heaven is lost upon you, for you have no ears to hear. You can catch the turn of a phrase, you can appreciate the poetry of an illustration, but the hidden meaning, the divine life, you do not perceive. You sit at the marriage-feast, but you eat not of the dainties; the bells of heaven ring with joy over ransomed spirits, but you live unransomed, without God, and without Christ. Though we plead with you, and pray for you, and weep over you, you still remain as hardened, as careless, and as thoughtless as ever you were. May God have mercy on you, and break up your hard hearts, that his word may abide in you. We have not, however, completed the picture. The passage tells us that the fowls of the air devoured the seed. Is there here a wayside hearer? Perhaps he did not mean to hear this sermon, and when he has heard it he will be asked by one of the wicked to come into company. He will go with the tempter, and the good seed will be devoured by the fowls of the air. Plenty of evil ones are ready to take away the gospel from the heart. The devil himself, that prince of the air, is eager at any time to snatch away a good thought. And then the devil is not alone--he has legions of helpers. He can set a man's wife, children, friends, enemies, customers, or creditors, to eat up the good seed, and they will do it effectually. Oh, sorrow upon sorrow, that heavenly seed should become devil's meat; that God's corn should feed foul birds! O my hearers, if you have heard the gospel from your youth, what wagon-loads of sermons have been wasted on you! In your younger days, you heard old Dr. So-and-so, and the dear old man was wont to pray for his hearers till his eyes were red with tears! Do you recollect those many Sundays when you said to yourself, "Let me go to my chamber and fall on my knees and pray"? But you did not; the fowls of the air ate up the seed, and you went on to sin as you had sinned before. Since then, by some strange impulse, you are very rarely absent from God's house; but now the seed of the gospel falls into your soul as if it dropped upon an iron floor, and nothing comes of it. The law may be thundered at you; you do not sneer at it, but it never affects you. Jesus Christ may be lifted up; his dear wounds may be exhibited; his streaming blood may flow before your very eyes, and you may be bidden with all earnestness to look to him and live; but it is as if one should sow the sea-shore. What shall I do for you? Shall I stand here and rain tears upon this hard highway? Alas! my tears will not break it up; it is trodden too hard for that. Shall I bring the gospel plough? Alas! the ploughshare will not enter ground so solid. What shall we do? O God, thou knowest how to melt the hardest heart with the precious blood of Jesus. Do it now, we beseech thee, and thus magnify thy grace, by causing the good seed to live, and to produce a heavenly harvest. II. I shall now turn to the second class of hearers: "And some fell upon a ROCK; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it lacked moisture." You can easily picture to yourselves that piece of rock in the midst of the field thinly veiled with soil; and of course the seed falls there as it does everywhere else. It springs up, it hastens to grow, it withers, it dies. None but those who love the souls of men can tell what hopes, what joys, and what bitter disappointments these stony places have caused us. We have a class of hearers whose hearts are hard, and yet they are apparently the softest and most impressible of men. While other men see nothing in the sermon, these men weep. Whether you preach the terrors of the law or the love of Calvary, they are alike stirred in their souls, and the liveliest impressions are apparently produced. Such may be listening now. They have resolved, but they have procrastinated. They are not the sturdy enemies of God who clothe themselves in steel, but they seem to bare their breasts, and lay them open to the minister. Rejoiced in heart, we shoot our arrows there, and they appear to penetrate; but, alas, a secret armor blunts every dart, and no wound is felt. The parable speaks of this character thus: "Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth." Or as another passage explains it: "And these are they likewise which are sown on stony ground; who, when they have heard the word, immediately receive it with gladness; and have no root in themselves, and so endure but for a time: afterward, when affliction or persecution ariseth for the word's sake, immediately they are offended." Have we not thousands of hearers who receive the word with joy? They have no deep convictions, but they leap into Christ on a sudden, and profess an instantaneous faith in him, and that faith has all the appearance of being genuine. When we look at it, the seed has really sprouted. There is a kind of life in it, there is apparently a green blade. We thank God that a sinner is brought back, a soul is born to God. But our joy is premature; they sprang up on a sudden, and received the word with joy, because they had no depth of earth, and the self-same cause which hastened their reception of the seed also causes them, when the sun is risen with his fervent heat, to wither away. These men we see every day in the week. They come to join the church; they tell us a story of how they heard us preach on such-and-such an occasion, and, oh, the word was so blessed to them, they never felt so happy in their lives! "Oh, sir, I thought I must leap from my seat when I heard about a precious Christ, and I believed on him there and then; I am sure I did." We question them as to whether they were ever convinced of sin. They think they were; but one thing they know, they feel a great pleasure in religion. We put it to them. "Do you think you will hold on?" They are confident that they shall. They hate the things they once loved, they are sure they do. Everything has become new to them. And all this is on a sudden. We enquire when the good work began. We find it began when it ended, that is to say, there was no previous work, no ploughing of the soil, but on a sudden they sprang from death to life, as if a field should be covered with wheat by magic. Perhaps we receive them into the church; but in a week or two they are not so regular as they used to be. We gently reprove them, and they explain that they meet with such opposition in religion that they are obliged to yield a little. Another month and we lose them altogether. The reason is that they have been laughed at or exposed to a little opposition, and they have gone back. And what, think you, are the feelings of the minister? He is like the husbandman, who sees his field all green and flourishing, but at night a frost nips every shoot, and his hoped-for gains are gone. The minister goes to his chamber, and casts himself on his face before God, and cries, "I have been deceived; my converts are fickle, their religion has withered as the green herb." In the ancient story Orpheus is said to have had such skill upon the lyre, that he made the oaks and stones to dance around him. It is a poetical fiction, and yet hath it sometimes happened to the minister, that not only have the godly rejoiced, but men, like oaks and stones, have danced from their places. Alas! they have been oaks and stones still. Hushed is the lyre. The oak returns to its rooting-place, and the stone casts itself heavily to the earth. The sinner, who, like Saul, was among the prophets, goes back to plan mischief against the Most High. If it is bad to be a wayside hearer, I cannot think it is much better to be like the rock. This second class of hearers certainly gives us more joy than the first. A certain company always comes round a new minister; and I have often thought it is an act of God's kindness that he allows these people to gather at the first, while the minister is young, and has but few to stand by him; these persons are easily moved, and if the minister preaches earnestly they feel it, and they love him, and rally round him, much to his comfort. But time, that proves all things, proves them. They seemed to be made of true metal; but when they are put into the fire to be tested, they are consumed in the furnace. Some of the shallow kind are here now. I have looked at you when I have been preaching, and I have often thought, "That man one of these days will come out from the world, I am sure he will." I have thanked God for him. Alas, he is the same as ever. Years and years have we sowed him in vain, and it is to be feared it will be so to the end, for he is without depth, and without the moisture of the Spirit. Shall it be so? Must I stand over the mouth of your open sepulchre, and think, "Here lies a shoot which never became an ear, a man in whom grace struggled but never reigned, who gave some hopeful spasms of life and then subsided into eternal death?" God save you! Oh! may the Spirit deal with you effectually, and may you, even you, yet bring forth fruit unto God, that Jesus may have a reward for his sufferings. III. I shall briefly treat of the third class, and may the Spirit of God assist me to deal faithfully with you. "And some fell among THORNS; and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it." Now, this was good soil. The two first characters were bad; the wayside was not the proper place, the rock was not a congenial situation for the growth of any plant; but this is good soil, for it grows thorns. Wherever a thistle will spring up and flourish, there would wheat flourish too. This was fat, fertile soil; it was no marvel therefore that the husbandman dealt largely there, and threw handful after handful upon that corner of the field. See how happy he is when in a month or two he visits the spot. The seed has sprung up. True, there's a suspicious little plant down there of about the same size as the wheat. "Oh!" he thinks, "that's not much, the corn will outgrow _that_. When it is stronger it will choke these few thistles that have unfortunately mixed with it." Ay, Mr. Husbandman, you do not understand the force of evil, or you would not thus dream! He comes again, and the seed has grown, there is even the corn in the ear; but the thistles, the thorns, and the briers have become inter-twisted with one another, and the poor wheat can hardly get a ray of sunshine. It is so choked with thorns every way, that it looks quite yellow; the plant is starved. Still it perseveres in growing, and it does seem as if it would bring forth a little fruit. Alas, it never comes to anything. With it the reaper never fills his arm. We have this class very largely among us. These hear the word and understand what they hear. They take the truth home; they think it over; they even go the length of making a profession of religion. The wheat seems to spring and ear; it will soon come to perfection. Be in no hurry, these men and women have a great deal to see after; they have the cares of a large concern; their establishment employs so many hundred hands; do not be deceived as to their godliness--they have no time for it. They will tell you that they must live; that they cannot neglect this world; that they must anyhow look out for the present, and as for the future, they will render it all due attention by-and-by. They continue to attend gospel-preaching, and the poor little stunted blade of religion keeps on growing after a fashion. Meanwhile they have grown rich, they come to the place of worship in a carriage, they have all that heart can wish. Ah! now the seed will grow, will it not? No, no. They have no cares now; the shop is given up, they live in the country; they have not to ask, "Where shall the money come from to meet the next bill?" or "how shall they be able to provide for an increasing family." Now they have too much instead of too little, for they have _riches_, and they are too wealthy to be gracious. "But," says one, "they might spend their riches for God." Certainly they might, but they do not, for riches are deceitful. They have to entertain much company, and chime in with the world, and so Christ and his church are left in the lurch. Yes, but they begin to spend their riches, and they have surely got over that difficulty, for they give largely to the cause of Christ, and they are munificent in charity; the little blade will grow, will it not? No, for now behold the thorns of pleasure. Their liberality to others involves liberality to themselves; their pleasures, amusements, and vanities choke the wheat of true religion; the good grains of gospel truth cannot grow because they have to attend that musical party, that ball, and that soirée, and so they cannot think of the things of God. I know several specimens of this class. I knew one, high in court circles, who has confessed to me that he wished he were poor, for then he might enter the kingdom of heaven. He has said to me, "Ah! sir, these politics, these politics, I wish I were rid of them, they are eating the life out of my heart. I cannot serve God as I would." I know of another, overloaded with riches, who has said to me, "Ah! sir, it is an awful thing to be rich; one cannot keep close to the Saviour with all this earth about him." Ah! my dear readers, I will not ask for you that God may lay you on a bed of sickness, that he may strip you of all your wealth, and bring you to beggary; but, oh, if he were to do it, and you were to save your souls, it would be the best bargain you could ever make. If those mighty ones who now complain that the thorns choke the seed could give up all their riches and pleasures, if they that fare sumptuously every day could take the place of Lazarus at the gate, it were a happy change for them if their souls might be saved. A man may be honorable and rich, and yet go to heaven; but it will be hard work, for "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven." God does make some rich men enter the kingdom of heaven, but hard is their struggle. Steady, young man, steady! Hurry not to climb to wealth! It is a place where many heads are turned. Do not ask God to make you popular; they that have popularity are wearied by it. Cry with Agur, "Give me neither poverty nor riches." God give me to tread the golden mean, and may I ever have in my heart that good seed, which shall bring forth fruit a hundredfold to his own glory. IV. I now close with the last character, namely, the GOOD GROUND. Of the good soil, as you will mark, we have but one in four. Will one in four of our hearers, with well-prepared heart, receive the Word? The ground is described as "good"; not that it was good by nature, but it had been made good by grace. God had ploughed it; he had stirred it up with the plough of conviction, and there it lay in ridge and furrow as it should lie. When the gospel was preached, the heart received it, for the man said, "That is just the blessing I want. Mercy is what a needy sinner requires." So that the preaching of the gospel was THE thing to give comfort to this disturbed and ploughed soil. Down fell the seed to take good root. In some cases it produced fervency of love, largeness of heart, devotedness of purpose of a noble kind, like seed which produces a hundredfold. The man became a mighty servant for God, he spent himself and was spent. He took his place in the vanguard of Christ's army, stood in the hottest of the battle, and did deeds of daring which few could accomplish--the seed produced a hundredfold. It fell into another heart of like character; the man could not do the most, but still he did much. He gave himself to God, and in his business he had a word to say for his Lord; in his daily walk he quietly adorned the doctrine of God his Saviour--he brought forth sixtyfold. Then it fell on another, whose abilities and talents were but small; he could not be a star, but he would be a glow-worm; he could not do as the greatest, but he was content to do something, however humble. The seed had brought forth in him tenfold, perhaps twentyfold. How many are there of this sort here? Is there one who prays within himself, "God be merciful to me a sinner"? The seed has fallen in the right spot. Soul, thy prayer shall be heard. God never sets a man longing for mercy without intending to give it. Does another whisper, "Oh that I might be saved"? Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou, even thou, shalt be saved. Hast thou been the chief of sinners? Trust Christ, and thy enormous sins shall vanish as the millstone sinks beneath the flood. Is there no one here that will trust the Saviour? Can it be possible that the Spirit is entirely absent? that he is not moving in one soul? not begetting life in one spirit? We will pray that he may now descend, that the word may not be in vain. THE PRINCIPAL WHEAT. "The principal wheat."--ISAIAH 28:25. THE prophet mentions it as a matter of wisdom on the part of the husbandman, that HE KNOWS WHAT IS THE PRINCIPAL THING TO CULTIVATE, and makes it his principal care. The text, with the connection, runs thus: "Does not the husbandman cast in the principal wheat?" He does not go to the granary and take out wheat, and cummin, and barley, and rye, and fling these about right and left, but he estimates the value of each grain, and arranges them in his mind accordingly. He does not think that cummin and caraway, which he merely grows to give a flavor to his meal, are of half such importance as his bread-corn; and, though rye and barley have their values, yet he does not reckon that even these are equal to what he calls "the principal wheat." He is a man of discretion, he arranges things; he places the most important crop in the front rank, and spends upon it the most care. Here let us learn a lesson. Do keep things distinct in your minds--not huddled and muddled by a careless thoughtlessness. Do not live a confused life, without care and discretion, running all things into one; but sort things out, and divide and distinguish between the precious and the vile. See what this is worth, and what the other is worth, and set your matters in rank and order, making some of them principal, and others of them inferior. I suggest to you young people especially that, in starting life, you say to yourselves, "What shall we live for? There is a principal thing for which we ought to live, what shall it be?" Have you turned over that question, or have you gone at it hit or miss? What are you living for? What is your principal aim? Is it going to be that of the old gentleman in Horace who said to his boy, "Get money: get it honestly, if you can; but, by all means, get money." Will you be a money-spinner? Shall coin be your principal corn? Or will you choose a life of pleasure--"a short life and a merry one," as so many fools have said to their great sorrow? Is it in dissipation that your life is to be spent? Are thistles to be your principal crop? Because there is a pleasure in looking at a Scotch thistle, do you intend to grow acres of pleasurable vice? And will you make your bed upon them when you come to die? Search and see what is worthy of being the principal object in life; and, when you have found it out, then beseech the Holy Spirit to help you to choose that one thing, and to give all your powers and faculties to the cultivation of it. The farmer, who finds that wheat ought to be his principal crop, makes it so, and lays himself out with that end in view; learn from this to have a main object, and to give your whole mind to it. This farmer was wise, because _he counted that to be principal which was the most needful_. His family could do without cummin, which was but a flavoring. Perhaps the mistress might complain, or the cook might grumble, but that did not signify so much as it would do if the children cried for bread. They certainly must have wheat, for bread is the staff of life. It is bread that strengtheneth man's heart, and therefore the farmer must grow wheat if he does not grow anything else. That which is necessary he regarded as the principal thing. Is not this common sense? If we were wisely to sit down and estimate, should we not say, "To be forgiven my sins, to be right with God, to be holy, to be fit to live eternally in heaven, is the greatest, the most needful thing for me, and therefore I will make it the principal object of my pursuit"? A creature cannot be satisfied unless he is answering the end for which he is created; and the end of every intelligent creature is first, to glorify God, and next, to enjoy God. What a bliss it must be to enjoy God himself for ever and ever! Other things may be desirable, but this thing is needful. A competence of income, a measure of esteem among men, a degree of health--all these are the flavoring of life, but to be saved in the Lord with an everlasting salvation is life itself. Jesus Christ is the bread by which our soul's best life is sustained. Oh, that we were all wise enough to feel that to be one with Christ is the one thing needful; that to be at peace with God is the principal thing; that to be brought into harmony with the Most High is the true music of our being. Other herbs may take their place in due order, but grace is the principal wheat, and we must cultivate it. This farmer was wise, because _he made that to be the principal thing which was the most fit to be so_. Of course, barley is useful as food, for nations have lived on barley bread, and lived healthily too; and rye has been the nutriment of millions; neither have they starved on oats and other grains. Still, give me a piece of wheaten bread, for it is the best staff for life's journey. This farmer knew that wheat was the most fitting food for man, and so he did not put the inferior grain, which might act as a substitute, into the prominent place; but he gave his wheat the preference. He did not say, "the principal barley," or "the principal rye," much less "the principal cummin," or "the principal fitches," but "the principal wheat." And what is there, brethren, that is so fit for the heart, the mind, the soul of man, as to know God and his Christ? Other mental foods, such as the fruits of knowledge, and the dainties of science, excellent though they may be--are inferior nutriment and unsuitable to build up the inner manhood. In my God and my Saviour, I find my heaven and my all. My soul sits down to a crumb of truth about Jesus, and finds great satisfaction in living upon it. The more we can know God, and enjoy God, and become like to God, and the more Christ is our daily bread, the more do we perceive the fitness of all this to our new-born natures. O beloved, make that to be your principal object which is the fittest pursuit of an immortal mind. "Religion is the chief concern Of mortals here below; May I its great importance learn, Its sovereign virtue know! "More needful this than glittering wealth, Or aught the world bestows: Not reputation, food, or health, Can give us such repose." Moreover, this farmer was wise, because _he made that the principal thing which was the most profitable_. Under certain circumstances, in our own country, wheat is not the most profitable thing which a man can grow; but, ordinarily, it is the best crop that the earth yields, and therefore the text speaks of "the principal wheat." Our grandfathers used to rely upon the wheat stack to pay their rent. They looked to their corn as the arm of their strength; and though it is not so now, it always was so of old, and perhaps it may yet be so again. Anyhow, the figure holds good with regard to true religion. That is the most profitable thing. I am told that rich men find it very hard to get hold of anything which yields five per cent, nowadays; but this blessed fear of the Lord is an extraordinarily profitable investment, for it does not yield a hundred per cent, or a thousand per cent, but a man begins with nothing and all things become his by faith. Being freely discharged of our sins, we are by overflowing grace greatly enriched, so that we number among our possessions heaven itself, Christ himself, God himself. All things are ours. Oh, what a blessed crop to sow! What a harvest comes of it! Godliness is profitable for the life that now is, and for that which is to come. Godliness is a blessing to a man's body, it keeps him from drunkenness and vice; and it is a blessing to his soul, it makes him sweet and pure. It is a blessing to him every way. If I had to die like a dog, I would like to live like a Christian. If there were no hereafter, yet still, for comfort and for joy, give me the life of one who strives to live like Christ. There is a practical everyday truth in the verse-- "'Tis religion that can give Sweetest pleasures while we live; 'Tis religion must supply Solid comfort when we die." Only that religion must not be of the common sort; it must have for its root a hearty faith in Jesus Christ. See ye to it. Our religion must be either everything or nothing, either first or nowhere. Make it "the principal wheat," and it will richly repay you. II. Secondly, the husbandman is a lesson to us because HE GIVES THIS PRINCIPAL THING THE PRINCIPAL PLACE. I find that the Hebrew is rendered by some eminent scholars, "He puts the wheat into the principal place." That little handful of cummin for the wife to flavor the cakes with he grows in a corner; and the various herbs he places in their proper borders. The barley he sets in its plot, and the rye in its acre; but if there is a good bit of rich soil--the best he has--he appropriates it to the principal wheat. He gives his choicest fields to that which is to be the main means of his living. Now, here is a lesson for you and for me. Let us give to true godliness our principal powers and abilities. Let us give to the things of God our best and _most intense thought_. I pray you, do not take religion at second hand from what I tell you, or from what somebody else tells you; but think it over. Read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest the word of God. The thoughtful Christian is the growing Christian. Remember, the service of God deserves our first consideration and endeavor. We are poor things at our prime, but we ought to give the Lord nothing short of our best. God would not have us serve him heedlessly, but he would have us use all the brain and intellect and mind that we have in studying and practising his word. "Acquaint now thyself with him, and be at peace." "Meditate upon these things. Give thyself wholly to them." If your mind is more clear and active at one time than at another, then sow the principal wheat. If you feel more fresh and more inclined to think at one time of the day than at another, let your mind then go towards the best things. Be sure, also, to yield to this subject _your most earnest love_. The best field in the little estate of manhood is not the head, but the heart; sow the principal wheat there. Oh, to have true religion in the heart; to love what we know--intensely to love it; to hold it fast as with the grip of life and death--never to let it go! The Lord says, "My son, give me thy heart," and he will not be contented with anything less than our heart. Oh, when your zeal is most burning, and your love is most fervent, let the warmth and the fervency all go towards the Lord your God, and to the service of him who has redeemed you with his precious blood. Let the principal wheat have the principal part of your nature. Towards God and his Christ also turn your _most fervent desires_. When you enlarge your desire, desire Christ; when you become ambitious let your ambition be all for God. Let your hunger and your thirst be after righteousness. Let your aspirations and your longings be all towards holiness, and the things that shall make you like to Christ. Give to this principal wheat your principal desires. Then let the Lord have _the attentive respect of your life_. Let the principal wheat be sown in every action. If we are truly Christians we must be as much Christians outside the church as in it. We shall try to make our eating and our drinking, and everything we do, tend to the glory of God. Draw no line between the secular and the religious part of your conduct, but let the secular be made religious by a devout desire to glorify God in the one as much as in the other. Let us worship God in the commonest duties of life, even as they do who stand before his throne. So it ought to be. Let us sow the principal wheat in all the fields of our conversation, in business, in the family, among our friends, and with our children. May we each one feel, "For me to live is Christ. I cannot live without Christ, or for anything but Christ." Let your whole nature yield itself to Jesus, and to none else. We should give to this principal wheat _our most earnest labors_. We should spend ourselves for the spread of the gospel. A Christian man ought to lay himself out to serve Jesus. I hate to see a professing man zealous in politics and lukewarm in devotion; all on fire at a parish vestry, and chill as winter when he comes to a prayer-meeting. Some fly like eagles when they are serving the world, but they have a broken wing in the service of God. This should not be. If anything could rouse us up, and make the lion within us roar in his strength, it should be when we confront the foes of Jesus or fight in his cause. Our Lord's service is the principal wheat, let us labor most in connection with it. This, I think, should also take possession of us so as to lead to _our greatest sacrifices_. The love of Christ ought to be so strong as to swallow up self, and make sacrifice our daily joy. For Christ's name's sake we should be willing to endure poverty, reproach, slander, exile, death. Nothing should be dear to a Christian in comparison with Christ. Now, I will put it to you whether it is so or no. Is the love of Jesus the principal wheat with us? Are we giving our religion the chief place or not? I am afraid some people treat religion as certain gentlemen treat an off-hand farm; they put a bailiff into it, and only give an eye to it now and then. Their minister is the bailiff, and they expect him to see to it for them. These off-hand farms are losing concerns. Look at these half-and-half brethren. They have religion? Certainly. But they are like the man of whom the child spoke at the Sunday-school. "Is your father a Christian?" said the teacher. "Yes," said the child, "but he has not worked much at it lately." I could point out several of this sort, who are sowing their wheat very sparingly, and choosing the most barren patch to sow it in. They profess to be Christians, but religion is a tenth-rate article on their farm. Some have a large acreage for the world, and a poor little plot for Christ. They are growers of worldly pleasure and self-indulgence, and they sow a little religion by the roadside for appearance sake. This will not do. God will not thus be mocked. If we despise him and his truth we shall be lightly esteemed. O come let us give our principal time, talent, thought, effort to that which is the chief concern of immortal spirits. May we imitate the husbandman who gives the principal wheat the principal place in his farm. III. Let us learn a third lesson. THE HUSBANDMAN SELECTS THE PRINCIPAL SEED-CORN WHEN HE IS SOWING HIS WHEAT. When a farmer is setting aside wheat for sowing, he does not choose the tail corn and the worst of his produce, but if he is a sensible man he likes to sow the best wheat in the world. Many farmers search the country round for a good sample of wheat for sowing, for they do not expect to get a good harvest out of bad seed. The husbandman is taught of God to put into the ground "the principal wheat." Let me learn that if I am going to sow to the Lord and to be a Christian, I should sow the best kind of Christianity. I should try to do this, first, _by believing the weightiest doctrines_. I would believe not this "ism," nor that, but the unadulterated truth which Jesus taught; for a holy character will only grow by the Spirit of God out of true doctrine. Falsehood breeds sin: truth begets and fosters holiness. You and I therefore ought to select our seed carefully, and cast out all error. If we are wise we shall think most of the most important truths, for I have known people attach the greatest importance to the smallest things. They fight over the fitches, and leave the wheat to the crows. As for me, those who will may dispute over vials and trumpets, I shall mainly preach the doctrine of the precious blood and the glorious truths of substitution and atonement. These doctrines are the principal wheat, and therefore these shall have my choice. Next to that, we ought to sow _the noblest examples_. Many men are dwarfed because they choose a bad model to start with. They imitate dear old Mr. So-and-so till they grow wonderfully like him with the best of him left out. A minister happens to be of a gloomy turn of mind, and he preaches the deep experience of the children of God, and in consequence a band of good people think it their duty to be melancholy. Why need they fall into a ditch because their leader has splashed himself? We should never copy any man's infirmities. To be like Paul there is no need to have weak eyes; to be like Thomas there is no necessity to doubt. If you copy any good man, there is a point at which you ought to stop short. If I must have a human model, I would prefer one of the bravest of the saints of God; but oh how much better to follow that perfect pattern which you have in Christ Jesus! We should sow the best wheat by seeing that we have _the purest spirit_. Alas! how soon do spirits become soiled by self or pride, or despondency or sloth, or some earthly taint. But what a grand thing it is to live in the spirit of Christ! May we be humble, lowly, bold, self-sacrificing, pure, chaste, and holy. And, then, there is one more mode of sowing selected seed. We should endeavor to live in _the closest communion with God_. A dear brother prayed just now that we might have as much grace as we were capable of receiving, and that God would bring us into such a state that we might not hinder him in anything which he willed to do by us. This is a good prayer. It should be our desire to rise to the highest form of spiritual life. If you sow this principal wheat, get the best sort of it. There is a spirit and a spirit; and there are doctrines and doctrines; the best is the best for you. O young men, if you mean to have piety, go in for it thoroughly. Do not sneak through the world as if you were ashamed of your Lord. If you are Christ's, show your colors. Rally to his banner, gather to his trumpet call, and then stand up, stand up for Jesus. If there is any manhood in you, this great cause calls for it all; exhibit it, and may the Spirit of God help you so to do. IV. Fourthly, THE HUSBANDMAN GROWS THE PRINCIPAL WHEAT WITH THE PRINCIPAL CARE. Some critics say that the proper translation is that the husbandman plants his wheat in rows. It is said that the large crops in Palestine in olden time were due to the fact that they planted the wheat. They set it in lines, so that it was not checked or suffocated by its being too thick in one place, neither was there any fear of its being too thin in another. The wheat was planted, and then streams of water were turned by the foot to each particular plant. No wonder, therefore, that the land brought forth abundantly. We should give our principal care to the principal thing. Our godliness should be carried out with discretion and care. Brethren, are we careful enough as to our religious walk? Have you ever searched to the bottom of your profession? Why do you happen to be members of a certain church? Your mother was so. Well, there is some good in that reason, but not enough to justify you in the sight of God. I pray you judge your standing. If any Christian minister is afraid to urge you to this duty, I stand in doubt of him. I am not at all afraid. I beg you to examine all that I teach you, for I would not like to be responsible for another man's creed. Like the Bereans, search and see whether these things be according to Scripture or not. One of the greatest blessings that could come upon the church would be a searching spirit which would refer everything to the Holy Scriptures. If they speak not according to this word it is because there is no light in them. Do your service to God as carefully as the eastern farmer planted his wheat, when he set it in rows with great orderliness and exactness. You serve a precise God, therefore serve him precisely. He is a jealous God, therefore be jealous of the least taint of error or will-worship. Take care, also, that you water every part of your religion, as the farmer watered each plant. Pray for grace from on high that you may never be parched and dried up. Perform to your faith, to your hope, to your love, and to all the plants that are in your soul every other service which the husbandman renders to his wheat. Give grace your principal care, for it deserves it. V. With this I close. Do this, because FROM THIS YOU MAY EXPECT YOUR PRINCIPAL CROP. If religion be the principal thing, you may look to religion for your principal reward. The harvest will come to you in various ways. You will make the greatest success in this life if you wholly live to the glory of God. Success or failure must much depend upon the fitness of our object. It is of no use _my_ attempting to sing, for I shall never be able to conduct a choir. I could not succeed in that, but if I preach, I may succeed, for that is my work. Now you, Christian man, if you try to live to the world you will not prosper, for you are not fitted for it. Grace has spoiled you for sin. If you live to God with all your heart you will succeed in it, for God has made you on purpose for it. As he made the fish for the water, and the birds for the air, so he made the believer for holiness, and for the service of God; and you will be out of your element, a fish out of water, or a bird in the stream, if you leave the service of God. The Eastern farmer's prosperity hinges on his wheat, and yours upon your devotion to God. It is to Godliness that you must look for your joy. Is there any bliss like the bliss of knowing that you are in Christ, and are the beloved of the Lord? It is to your religion that you must look for comfort on a sick and dying bed, and you may be there very soon. In the world to come what a crop, what a harvest will come of serving the Lord! What will come out of all else? What but mere smoke? A man has made a million of money, and he is dead. What has he got by his wealth? A man's fame rings throughout the earth as a great and successful warrior, and he is dead. What has he as the result of all his honors? To live to the world is like playing with boys in the street for halfpence, or with babes for bits of platter and oyster shells. Life for God is real and substantial, but all else is waste. Let us think so, and gird up our loins to serve the Lord. May the divine Spirit help us to sow "the principal wheat," and to live in joyful expectation of reaping a happy harvest according to the promise, "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy." SPRING IN THE HEART. "Thou waterest the ridges thereof abundantly: thou settlest the furrows thereof: thou makest it soft with showers: thou blessest the springing thereof."--PSALM 65:10. THOUGH other seasons excel in fulness, spring must always bear the palm for freshness and beauty. We thank God when the harvest hours draw near, and the golden grain invites the sickle, but we ought equally to thank him for the rougher days of spring, for these prepare the harvest. April showers are mothers of the sweet May flowers, and the wet and cold of winter are the parents of the splendor of summer. God blesses the springing thereof, or else it could not be said, "Thou crownest the year with thy goodness." There is as much necessity for divine benediction in spring as for heavenly bounty in summer; and, therefore, we should praise God all the year round. Spiritual spring is a very blessed season in a church. Then we see youthful piety developed, and on every hand we hear the joyful cry of those who say, "We have found the Lord." Our sons are springing up as the grass and as willows by the water-courses. We hold up our hands in glad astonishment and cry, "Who are these that fly as a cloud and as doves to their windows?" In the revival days of a Church, when God is blessing her with many conversions, she has great cause to rejoice in God and to sing, "Thou blessest the springing thereof." I intend to take the text in reference to individual cases. There is a time of springing of grace, when it is just in its bud, just breaking through the dull cold earth of unregenerate nature. I desire to talk a little about that, and concerning the blessing which the Lord grants to the green blade of new-born godliness, to those who are beginning to hope in the Lord. I. First, I shall have a little to say about THE WORK PREVIOUS TO THE SPRINGING THEREOF. It appears from the text that there is work for God alone to do before the springing comes, and we know that there is work for God to do through us as well. _There is work for us to do._ Before there can be a springing up in the soul of any, there must be _ploughing_, harrowing, and sowing. There must be a ploughing, and we do not expect that as soon as ever we plough we shall reap the sheaves. Blessed be God, in many cases, the reaper overtakes the ploughman, but we must not always expect it. In some hearts God is long in preparing the soul by conviction: the law with its ten black horses drags the ploughshare of conviction up and down the soul till there is no one part of it left unfurrowed. Conviction goes deeper than any plough to the very core and centre of the spirit, till the spirit is wounded. The ploughers make deep furrows indeed when God puts his hand to the work: the soil of the heart is broken in pieces in the presence of the Most High. Then comes the _sowing_. Before there can be a springing up it is certain that there must be something put into the ground, so that after the preacher has used the plough of the law, he applies to his Master for the seed-basket of the gospel. Gospel promises, gospel doctrines, especially a clear exposition of free grace and the atonement, these are the handfuls of corn which we scatter broadcast. Some of the grain falls on the highway, and is lost; but other handfuls fall where the plough has been, and there abide. Then comes the _harrowing_ work. We do not expect to sow seed and then leave it: the gospel has to be prayed over. The prayer of the preacher and the prayer of the Church make up God's harrow to rake in the seed after it is scattered, and so it is covered up within the clods of the soul, and is hidden in the heart of the hearer. Now there is a reason why I dwell upon this, namely, that I may exhort my dear brethren who have not seen success, not to give up the work, but to hope that they have been doing the ploughing, and sowing, and harrowing work, and that the harvest is to come. I mention this for yet another reason, and that is, by way of warning to those who expect to have a harvest without this preparatory work. I do not believe that much good will come from attempts at sudden revivals made without previous prayerful labor. A revival to be permanent must be a matter of growth, and the result of much holy effort, longing, pleading, and watching. The servant of God is to preach the gospel whether men are prepared for it or not; but in order to large success, depend upon it there is a preparedness necessary among the hearers. Upon some hearts warm earnest preaching drops like an unusual thing which startles but does not convince; while in other congregations, where good gospel preaching has long been the rule, and much prayer has been offered, the words fall into the hearers' souls and bring forth speedy fruit. We must not expect to have results without work. There is no hope of a church having an extensive revival in its midst unless there is continued and importunate waiting upon God, together with earnest laboring, intense anxiety, and hopeful expectation. _But there is also a work to be done which is beyond our power._ After ploughing, sowing, and harrowing, there must come the shower from heaven. "Thou visitest the earth and waterest it," says the Psalmist. In vain are all our efforts unless God shall bless us with the rain of his Holy Spirit's influence. O Holy Spirit! thou, and thou alone, workest wonders in the human heart, and thou comest from the Father and the Son to do the Father's purposes, and to glorify the Son. Three effects are spoken of. First, we are told _he waters the ridges_. As the ridges of the field become well saturated through and through with the abundant rain, so God sends his Holy Spirit till the whole heart of man is moved and influenced by his divine operations. The understanding is enlightened, the conscience is quickened, the will is controlled, the affections are inflamed; all these powers, which I may call the ridges of the heart, come under the divine working. It is ours to deal with men as men, and bring to bear upon them gospel truth, and to set before them motives that are suitable to move rational creatures; but, after all, it is the rain from on high which alone can water the ridges: there is no hope of the heart being savingly affected except by divine operations. Next, it is added, "_Thou settlest the furrows_," by which some think it is meant that the furrows are drenched with water. Others think there is an allusion here to the beating down of the earth by heavy rain till the ridges become flat, and by the soaking of the water are settled into a more compact mass. Certain it is that the influences of God's Spirit have a humbling and settling effect upon a man. He was unsettled once like the earth that is dry and crumbly, and blown about and carried away with every wind of doctrine; but as the earth when soaked with wet is compacted and knit together, so the heart becomes solid and serious under the power of the Spirit. As the high parts of the ridge are beaten down into the furrows, so the lofty ideas, the grand schemes, and carnal boastings of the heart begin to level down, when the Holy Spirit comes to work upon the soul. Genuine humility is a very gracious fruit of the Spirit. To be broken in heart is the best means of preparing the soul for Jesus. "A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." Brethren, always be thankful when you see high thoughts of man brought down; this settling the furrows is a very gracious preparatory work of grace. Yet again, it is added, "_Thou makest it soft with showers_." Man's heart is naturally hardened against the gospel; like the Eastern soil, it is hard as iron if there be no gracious rain. How sweetly and effectively does the Spirit of God soften the man through and through! He is no longer towards the Word what he used to be: he feels everything, whereas once he felt nothing. The rock flows with water; the heart is dissolved in tenderness, the eyes are melted into tears. All this is God's work. I have said already that God works through us, but still it is God's immediate work to send down the rain of his grace from on high. Perhaps he is at work upon some of you, though as yet there is no springing up of spiritual life in your souls. Though your condition is still a sad one, we will hope for you that ere long there shall be seen the living seed of grace sending up its tender green shoot above the soil, and may the Lord bless the springing thereof. II. In the second place, let us deliver A BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF THE SPRINGING THEREOF. After the operations of the Holy Spirit have been quietly going on for a certain season as pleaseth the great Master and Husbandman, then there are signs of grace. Remember the apostle's words, "First the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear." Some of our friends are greatly disturbed because they cannot see the full corn in the ear in themselves. They suppose that, if they were the subjects of a divine work, they would be precisely like certain advanced Christians with whom it is their privilege to commune, or of whom they may have read in biographies. Beloved, this is a very great mistake. When first grace enters the heart, it is not a great tree covering with its shadow whole acres, but it is the least of all seeds, like a grain of mustard seed. When it first rises upon the soul, it is not the sun shining at high noon, but it is the first dim ray of dawn. Are you so simple as to expect the harvest before you have passed through the springing-time? I shall hope that by a very brief description of the earliest stage of Christian experience you may be led to say, "I have gone as far as that," and then I hope you may be able to take the comfort of the text to yourselves: "Thou blessest the springing thereof." What then is the springing up of piety in the heart? We think it is first seen in _sincerely earnest desires after salvation_. The man is not saved, in his own apprehension, but he longs to be. That which was once a matter of indifference is now a subject of intense concern. Once he despised Christians, and thought them needlessly earnest; he thought religion a mere trifle, and he looked upon the things of time and sense as the only substantial matters; but now how changed he is! He envies the meanest Christian, and would change places with the poorest believer if he might but be able to read his title clear to mansions in the skies. Now worldly things have lost dominion over him, and spiritual things are uppermost. Once with the unthinking many, he cried, "Who will show us any good?" but now he cries, "Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon me." Once it was the corn and the wine to which he looked for comfort, but now he looks to God alone. His rock of refuge must be God, for he finds no comfort elsewhere. His holy desires, which he had years ago, were like smoke from the chimney, soon blown away; but now his longings are permanent, though not always operative to the same degree. At times these desires amount to a hungering and a thirsting after righteousness, and yet he is not satisfied with these desires, but wishes for a still more anxious longing after heavenly things. These desires are among the first springings of divine life in the soul. "The springing thereof" shows itself next in _prayer_. It _is_ prayer now. Once it was the mocking of God with holy sounds unattended by the heart; but now, though the prayer is such that he would not like a human ear to hear him, yet God approves it, for it is the talking of a spirit to a Spirit, and not the muttering of lips to an unknown God. His prayers, perhaps, are not very long: they do not amount to more than this, "Oh!" "Ah!" "Would to God!" "Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner!" and such-like short ejaculations; but, then, they _are_ prayers. "Behold he prayeth," does not refer to a long prayer; it is quite as sure a proof of spiritual life within, if it only refers to a sigh or to a tear. These "groanings that cannot be uttered," are among "the springings thereof." There will also be manifest _a hearty love for the means of grace_, and the house of God. The Bible, long unread, which was thought to be of little more use than an old almanac, is now treated with great consideration; and though the reader finds little in it that comforts him just now, and much that alarms him, yet he feels that it is the book for him, and he turns to its pages with hope. When he goes up to God's house, he listens eagerly, hoping that there may be a message for him. Before, he attended worship as a sort of pious necessity incumbent upon all respectable people; but now he goes up to God's house that he may find the Saviour. Once there was no more religion in him than in the door which turns upon its hinges; but now he enters the house praying, "Lord, meet with my soul," and if he gets no blessing, he goes away sighing, "O that I knew where I might find him, that I might come even to his seat." This is one of the blessed signs of "the springing thereof." Yet more cheering is another, namely, that the soul in this state has _faith in Jesus Christ_, at least in some degree. It is not a faith which brings great joy and peace, but still it is a faith which keeps the heart from despair, and prevents its sinking under a sense of sin. I have known the time when I do not believe any man living could see faith in me, and when I could scarcely perceive any in myself, and yet I was bold to say, with Peter, "Lord, thou knowest all things, _thou_ knowest that I love thee." What man cannot see, Christ can see. Many people have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, but they are so much engaged in looking at it that they do not see it. If they would look to Christ and not to their own faith, they would not only see Christ but see their own faith too; but they measure their faith, and it seems so little when they contrast it with the faith of full-grown Christians, that they fear it is not faith at all. Oh, little one, if thou hast faith enough to receive Christ, remember the promise, "To as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God." Poor, simple, weak-hearted, and troubled one, look to Jesus and answer, Can such a Saviour suffer in vain? Can such an atonement be offered in vain? Canst thou trust him, and yet be cast away? It cannot be. It never was in the Saviour's heart to shake off one that did cling to his arm. However feeble the faith, he blesses "the springing thereof." The difficulty raises partly from misapprehension and partly from want of confidence in God. I say misapprehension: now if like some Londoners you had never seen corn when it is green, you would cry out, "What! Do you say that yonder green stuff is wheat?" "Yes," the farmer says, "that is wheat." You look at it again and you reply, "Why, man alive, that is nothing but grass. You do not mean to tell me that this grassy stuff will ever produce a loaf of bread such as I see in the baker's window; I cannot conceive it." No, you could not conceive it, but when you get accustomed to it, it is not at all wonderful to see the wheat go through certain stages; first the blade, then the ear, and afterwards the full corn in the ear. Some of you have never seen growing grace, and do not know anything about it. When you are newly converted you meet with Christians who are like ripe golden ears, and you say, "I am not like them." True, you are no more like them than that grassy stuff in the furrows is like full-grown wheat; but you will grow like them one of these days. You must expect to go through the blade period before you get to the ear period, and in the ear period you will have doubts whether you will ever come to the full corn in the ear; but you will arrive at perfection in due time. Thank God that you are in Christ at all. Whether I have much faith or little faith, whether I can do much for Christ or little for Christ, is not the first question; I am saved, not on account of what I am, but on account of what Jesus Christ is; and if I am trusting to him, however little in Israel I may be, I am as safe as the brightest of the saints. I have said, however, that mixed with misapprehension there is a great deal of unbelief. I cannot put it all down to an ignorance that may be forgiven: for there is sinful unbelief too. O sinner, why do you not trust Jesus Christ? Poor, quickened, awakened conscience, God gives you his word that he who trusts in Christ is not condemned, and yet you are afraid that you are condemned! This is to give God the lie! Be ashamed and confounded that you should ever have been guilty of doubting the veracity of God. All your other sins do not grieve Christ so much as the sin of thinking that he is unwilling to forgive you, or the sin of suspecting that if you trust him he will cast you away. Do not slander his gracious character. Do not cast a slur upon the generosity of his tender heart. He saith, "Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." Come in the faith of his promise, and he will receive you just now. I have thus given some description of "the springing thereof." III. Thirdly, according to the text, THERE IS ONE WHO SEES THIS SPRINGING. Thou, Lord--_thou_ blessest the springing thereof. I wish that some of us had quicker eyes to see the beginning of grace in the souls of men; for want of this we let slip many opportunities of helping the weaklings. If a woman had the charge of a number of children that were not her own, I do not suppose she would notice all the incipient stages of disease; but when a mother nurses her own dear children, as soon as ever upon the cheek or in the eye there is a token of approaching sickness, she perceives it at once. I wish we had just as quick an eye, because just as tender a heart, towards precious souls. I do not doubt that many young people are weeks and even months in distress, who need not be, if you who know the Lord were a little more watchful to help them in the time of their sorrow. Shepherds are up all night at lambing time to catch up the lambs as soon as they are born, and take them in and nurse them; and we, who ought to be shepherds for God, should be looking out for all the lambs, especially at seasons when there are many born into God's great fold, for tender nursing is wanted in the first stages of the new life. God, however, when his servants do not see "the springing thereof," sees it all. Now, you silent, retired spirits, who dare not speak to father or mother, or brother or sister, this text ought to be a sweet morsel to you. "_Thou_ blessest the springing thereof," which proves that God sees you and your new-born grace. The Lord sees the first sign of penitence. Though you only say to yourself, "I will arise and go to my Father," your Father hears you. Though it is nothing but a desire, your Father registers it. "Thou puttest my tears into thy bottle. Are they not in thy book?" He is watching your return; he runs to meet you, and puts his arms about you, and kisses you with the kisses of his accepting love. O soul, be encouraged with that thought, that up in the chamber or down by the hedge, or wherever it is that thou hast sought secrecy, God is there. Dwell on the thought, "Thou God seest me." That is a precious text--"All my desire is before thee;" and here is another sweet one, "The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear him, in them that hope in his mercy." He can see you when you only hope in his mercy, and he takes pleasure in you if you have only begun to fear him. Here is a third choice word, "Thou wilt perfect that which concerneth me." Have you a concern about these things? Is it a matter of soul-concern with you to be reconciled to God, and to have an interest in Jesus' precious blood? It is only "the springing thereof," but he blesses it. It is written, "A bruised reed he will not break, and the smoking flax he will not quench, till he bring forth judgment unto victory." There shall be victory for you, even before the judgment-seat of God, though as yet you are only like the flax that smokes and gives no light, or like the reed that is broken, and yields no music. God sees the first springing of grace. IV. A few words upon a fourth point: WHAT A MISERY IT WOULD BE, IF IT WERE POSSIBLE, TO HAVE THIS SPRINGING WITHOUT GOD'S BLESSING! The text says, "Thou _blessest_ the springing thereof." We must, just a moment, by way of contrast, think of how the springing would have been without the blessing. Suppose we were to see a revival among us without God's blessing. It is my conviction that there are revivals which are not of God at all, but are produced by excitement merely. If there be no blessing from the Lord, it will be all a delusion, a bubble blown up into the air for a moment, and then gone to nothing. We shall only see the people stirred, to become the more dull and dead afterwards; and this is a great mischief to the church. In the individual heart, if there should be a springing up without God's blessing, there would be no good in it. Suppose you have good desires, but no blessing on these desires, they will only tantalize and worry you; and then, after a time, they will be gone, and you will be more impervious than you were before to religious convictions; for, if religious desires are not of God's sending, but are caused by excitement, they will probably prevent your giving a serious hearing to the Word of God in times to come. If convictions do not soften they will certainly harden. To what extremities have some been driven who have had springings of a certain sort which have not led them to Christ! Some have been crushed by despair. They tell us that religion crowds the madhouse: it is not true; but there is no doubt whatever that religiousness of a certain kind has driven many a man out of his mind. The poor souls have felt their wound but have not seen the balm. They have not known Jesus. They have had a sense of sin and nothing more. They have not fled for refuge to the hope which God has set before them. Marvel not if men do go mad when they refuse the Saviour. It may come as a judicial visitation of God upon those men who, when in great distress of mind, will not fly to Christ. I believe it is with some just this--you must either fly to Jesus, or else your burden will become heavier and heavier until your spirit will utterly fail. This is not the fault of religion, it is the fault of those who will not accept the remedy which religion presents. A springing up of desires without God's blessing would be an awful thing, but we thank him that we are not left in such a case. V. And now I have to dwell upon THE COMFORTING THOUGHT THAT GOD DOES BLESS "THE SPRINGING THEREOF." I wish to deal with you who are tender and troubled; I want to show that God _does_ bless your springing. He does it in many ways. Frequently he does it by the cordials which he brings. You have a few very sweet moments: you cannot say that you are Christ's, but at times the bells of your heart ring very sweetly at the mention of his name. The means of grace are very precious to you. When you gather to the Lord's worship you feel a holy calm, and you go away from the service wishing that there were seven Sundays in the week instead of one. By the blessing of God the Word has just suited your case, as if the Lord had sent his servants on purpose to you: you lay aside your crutches for awhile, and you begin to run. Though these things have been sadly transient, they are tokens for good. On the other hand, if you have had none of these comforts, or few of them, and the means of grace have not been consolations to you, I want you to look upon that as a blessing. It may be the greatest blessing that God can give us to take away all comforts on the road, in order to quicken our running towards the end. When a man is flying to the City of Refuge to be protected from the man-slayer, it may be an act of great consideration to stay him for a moment that he may quench his thirst and run more swiftly afterwards; but perhaps, in a case of imminent peril, it may be the kindest thing neither to give him anything to eat or to drink, nor invite him to stop for a moment, in order that he may fly with undiminished speed to the place of safety. The Lord may be blessing you in the uneasiness which you feel. Inasmuch as you cannot say that you are in Christ, it may be the greatest blessing which heaven can give to take away every other blessing from you, in order that you may be compelled to fly to the Lord. You perhaps have a little of your self-righteousness left, and while it is so you cannot get joy and comfort. The royal robe which Jesus gives will never shine brilliantly upon us till every rag of our own goodness is gone. Perhaps you are not empty enough, and God will never fill you with Christ till you are. Fear often drives men to faith. Have you never heard of a person walking in the fields into whose bosom a bird has flown because pursued by the hawk? Poor, timid thing, it would not have ventured there had not a greater fear compelled it. All this may be so with you; your fears may be sent to drive you more swiftly and more closely to the Saviour, and if so, I see in these present sorrows the signs that God is blessing "the springing thereof." In looking back upon my own "springing" I sometimes think God blessed me then in a lovelier way than now. Though I would not willingly return to that early stage of my spiritual life, yet there were many joys about it. An apple tree when loaded with apples is a very comely sight: but give me, for beauty, the apple tree in bloom. The whole world does not present a more lovely sight than an apple blossom. Now, a full-grown Christian laden with fruit is a comely sight, but still there is a peculiar loveliness about the young Christian. Let me tell you what that blessedness is; you have probably now a greater horror of sin than professors who have known the Lord for years; they might wish that they felt your tenderness of conscience. You have now a graver sense of duty, and a more solemn fear of the neglect of it, than some who are further advanced. You have also a greater zeal than many: you are now doing your first works for God, and burning with your first love; nothing is too hot or too heavy for you: I pray that you may never decline, but always advance. And now to close. I think there are three lessons for us to learn. First, _let older saints be very gentle and kind to young believers_. God blesses the springing thereof--mind that you do the same. Do not throw cold water upon young desires: do not snuff out young believers with hard questions. While they are babes and need the milk of the Word, do not be choking them with your strong meat; they will eat strong meat by-and-by, but not just yet. Remember, Jacob would not overdrive the lambs; be equally prudent. Teach and instruct them, but let it be with gentleness and tenderness, not as their superiors, but as nursing fathers for Christ's sake. God, you see, blesses the springing thereof--may he bless it through you! The next thing I have to say is, _fulfil the duty of gratitude_. Beloved, if God blesses the springing thereof we ought to be grateful for a little grace. If you have only seen the first shoot peeping up through the mould be thankful, and you shall see the green blade waving in the breeze; be thankful for the ankle-deep verdure and you shall soon see the commencement of the ear; be thankful for the first green ears and you shall see the flowering of the wheat, and by-and-by its ripening, and the joyous harvest. The last lesson is one of _encouragement_. If God blesses "the springing thereof," dear beginners, what will he not do for you in after days? If he gives you such a meal when you break your fast, what dainties will be on your table when he says to you, "Come and dine"; and what a banquet will he furnish at the supper of the Lamb! O troubled one! let the storms which howl and the snows which fall, and the wintry blasts that nip your springing, all be forgotten in this one consoling thought, that God blesses your springing, and whom God blesses none can curse. Over your head, dear, desiring, pleading, languishing soul, the Lord of heaven and earth pronounces the blessing of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Take that blessing and rejoice in it evermore. Amen. FARM LABORERS. "I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase. So then neither is he that planteth anything, neither he that watereth; but God that giveth the increase. Now he that planteth and he that watereth are one: and every man shall receive his own reward according to his own labor. For we are laborers together with God: ye are God's husbandry."--1 CORINTHIANS 3:6-9. I SHALL begin at the end of my text, because I find it to be the easiest way of mapping out my discourse. We shall first remark that _the church is God's farm_: "Ye are God's husbandry." In the margin of the revised version we read, "Ye are God's tilled ground," and that is the very expression for me. "Ye are God's tilled ground," or farm. After we have spoken of the farm we will next say a little upon the fact that _the Lord employs laborers_ on his estate: and when we have looked at the laborers--such poor fellows as they are--we will remember that _God himself is the great worker_: "We are laborers together with God." I. We begin by considering that THE CHURCH IS GOD'S FARM. The Lord has made the church his own by his sovereign _choice_. He has also secured it unto himself by _purchase_, having paid for it a price immense. "The Lord's portion is his people; Jacob is the lot of his inheritance." Every acre of God's farm cost the Saviour a bloody sweat, yea, the blood of his heart. He loved us, and gave himself for us: that is the price he paid. Henceforth the church is God's freehold, and he holds the title deeds of it. It is our joy to feel that we are not our own, we are bought with a price. The church is God's farm by choice and purchase. And now he has made it his by _enclosure_. It lay exposed aforetime as part of an open common, bare and barren, covered with thorns and thistles, and the haunt of every wild beast; for we were "by nature the children of wrath, even as others." Divine foreknowledge surveyed the waste, and electing love marked out its portion with a full line of grace, and thus set us apart to be the Lord's own estate forever. In due time effectual grace came forth with power, and separated us from the rest of mankind, as fields are hedged and ditched to part them from the open heath. Hath not the Lord declared that he hath chosen his vineyard and fenced it? "We are a garden wall'd around, Chosen and made peculiar ground; A little spot, enclosed by grace Out of the world's wide wilderness." The Lord has also made this farm evidently his own by _cultivation_. What more could he have done for his farm? He has totally changed the nature of the soil: from being barren he hath made it a fruitful land. He hath ploughed it, and digged it, and fattened it, and watered it, and planted it with all manner of flowers and fruits. It hath already brought forth to him many a pleasant cluster, and there are brighter times to come, when angels shall shout the harvest home, and Christ "shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied." This farm is preserved by the Lord's continual _protection_. Not only did he enclose it, and cultivate it by his miraculous power, to make it his own farm, but he continually maintains possession of it. "I the Lord do keep it; I will water it every moment: lest any hurt it, I will keep it night and day." If it were not for God's continual power her hedges would soon be thrown down, and wild beasts would devour her fields. Wicked hands are always trying to break down her walls and lay her waste again, so that there should be no true church in the world; but the Lord is jealous for his land, and will not allow it to be destroyed. A church would not long remain a church if God did not preserve it unto himself. What if God should say, "I will take away the hedge thereof, and it shall be eaten up; and break down the wall thereof, and it shall be trodden down"? What a wilderness it would become. What saith he? "Go ye now unto my place which was in Shiloh, where I set my name at the first, and see what I did to it for the wickedness of my people Israel." Go ye to Jerusalem, where of old was the city of his glory and the shrine of his indwelling, and what is left there to-day? Go ye to Rome, where once Paul preached the gospel with power: what is it now but the centre of idolatry? The Lord may remove the candlestick, and leave a place that was bright as day to become black as darkness itself. Hence God's farm remains a farm because he is ever in it to prevent its returning to its former wildness. Omnipotent power is as needful to keep the fields of the church under cultivation as to reclaim them at the first. Inasmuch as the church is God's own farm, _he expects to receive a harvest from it_. The world is waste, and he looks for nothing from it; but we are tilled land, and therefore a harvest is due from us. Barrenness suits the moorland, but to a farm it would be a great discredit. Love looks for returns of love; grace given demands gracious fruit. Watered with the drops of the Saviour's bloody sweat, shall we not bring forth a hundredfold to his praise? Kept by the eternal Spirit of God, shall there not be produced in us fruits to his glory? The Lord's husbandry upon us has shown a great expenditure of cost, and labor, and thought; ought there not to be a proportionate return? Ought not the Lord to have a harvest of obedience, a harvest of holiness, a harvest of usefulness, a harvest of praise? Shall it not be so? I think some churches forget that an increase is expected from every field of the Lord's farm, for they never have a harvest or even look for one. Farmers do not plough their lands or sow their fields for amusement; they mean business, and plough and sow because they desire a harvest. If this fact could but enter into the heads of some professors, surely they would look at things in a different light; but of late it has seemed as if we thought that God's church was not expected to produce anything, but existed for her own comfort and personal benefit. Brethren, it must not be so; the great Husbandman must have some reward for his husbandry. Every field must yield its increase, and the whole estate must bring forth to his praise. We join with the bride in the Song in saying, "My vineyard, which is mine, is before me: thou, O Solomon, must have thousand, and those that keep the fruit thereof two hundred." But I come back to the place from which I started. This farm is, by choice, by purchase, by enclosure, by cultivation, by preservation, entirely the Lord's. See, then, the injustice of allowing any of the laborers to call even a part of the estate his own. When a great man has a large farm of his own, what would he think if Hodge the ploughman should say, "Look here, I plough this farm, and therefore it is mine: I shall call this field Hodge's Acres"? "No," says Hobbs, "I reaped that land last harvest, and therefore it is mine, and I shall call it Hobbs's Field." What if all the other laborers became Hodgeites and Hobbsites, and so parcelled out the farm among them? I think the landlord would soon eject the lot of them. The farm belongs to its owner, and let it be called by his name; but it is absurd to call it by the names of the men who labor upon it. Shall insignificant nobodies rob God of his glory? Remember how Paul put it: "Who then is Paul, and who is Apollos?" "Is Christ divided? was Paul crucified for you? or were ye baptized in the name of Paul?" The entire church belongs to him who has chosen it in his sovereignty, bought it with his blood, fenced it by his grace, cultivated it by his wisdom, and preserved it by his power. There is but one church on the face of the earth, and those who love the Lord should keep this truth in mind. Paul is a laborer, Apollos is a laborer, Cephas is a laborer; but the farm is not Paul's, not so much as a rood of it, nor does a single parcel of land belong to Apollos, or the smallest allotment to Cephas; for "Ye are Christ's." The fact is that in this case the laborers belong to the land, and not the land to the laborers: "For all things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas." "We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord; and ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake." II. We have now to notice, as our second head, that THE GREAT HUSBANDMAN EMPLOYS LABORERS. _By human agency God ordinarily works out his designs._ He can, if he pleases, by his Holy Spirit get directly at the hearts of men, but that is his business, and not ours; we have to do with such words as these: "It pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe." The Master's commission is not, "Sit still and see the Spirit of God convert the nations;" but, "Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature." Observe God's method in supplying the race with food. In answer to the prayer, "Give us this day our daily bread," he might have bidden the clouds drop manna, morning by morning, at each man's door; but he sees that it is for our good to work, and so he uses the hands of the ploughman and the sower for our supply. God might cultivate his chosen farm, the church, by miracle, or by angels; but in great condescension he blesses her through her own sons and daughters. He employs us for our own good; for we who are laborers in his fields receive much more good for ourselves than we bestow. Labor develops our spiritual muscle and keeps us in health. "Unto me," says Paul, "who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given, that I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ." Our great Master means that every laborer on his farm should receive some benefit from it, for he never muzzles the mouth of the ox that treadeth out the corn. The laborer's daily bread comes out of the soil. Though he works not for himself, but for his Master, yet still he has his portion of food. In the Lord's granary there is seed for the sower, but there is also bread for the eater. However disinterestedly we may serve God in the husbandry of his church, we are ourselves partakers of the fruit. It is a great condescension on God's part that he uses us at all, for we are poor tools at the best, and more hindrance than help. The laborers employed by God are all _occupied upon needful work_. Notice: "I have planted, Apollos watered." Who beat the big drum, or blew his own trumpet? Nobody. On God's farm none are kept for ornamental purposes. I have read some sermons which could only have been meant for show, for there was not a grain of gospel in them. They were ploughs with the share left out, drills with no wheat in the box, clod-crushers made of butter. I do not believe that our God will ever pay wages to men who only walk about his grounds to show themselves. Orators who display their eloquence in the pulpit are more like gypsies who stray on the farm to pick up chickens, than honest laborers who work to bring forth a crop for their master. Many of the members of our churches live as if their only business on the farm was to pluck blackberries or gather wild flowers. They are great at finding fault with other people's ploughing and mowing; but not a hand's turn will they do themselves. Come on, my good fellows. Why stand ye all the day idle? The harvest is plenteous, and the laborers are few. You who think yourselves more cultivated than ordinary people, if you are indeed Christians, must not strut about and despise those who are hard at work. If you do, I shall say, "That person has mistaken his master; he may probably be in the employ of some gentleman farmer, who cares more for show than profit; but our great Lord is practical, and on his estate his laborers attend to needful labor." When you and I preach or teach it will be well if we say to ourselves, "What will be the use of what I am going to do? I am about to teach a difficult subject; will it do any good? I have chosen an abstruse point of theology; will it serve any purpose?" Brethren, a laborer may work very hard at a whim of his own, and yet it may be all waste labor. Some discourses do little more than show the difference between tweedle-_dum_ and tweedle-_dee_, and what is the use of that? Suppose we sow the fields with sawdust, or sprinkle them with rose-water, what of that? Will God bless our moral essays, and fine compositions, and pretty passages? Brethren, we must aim at usefulness: we must as laborers together with God be occupied with something that is worth doing. "I," says one, "have planted": it is well, for planting must be done. "I," answers another, "have watered": that also is good and necessary. See to it that ye can each bring in a solid report; but let no man be content with the mere child's-play of oratory, or the getting up of entertainments and such like. On the Lord's farm _there is a division of labor_. Even Paul did not say, "I have planted and watered." No, Paul planted. And certainly Apollos could not say, "I have planted as well as watered." No, it was enough for him to attend to the watering. No man has all gifts. How foolish, then, are they who say, "I enjoy So-and-so's ministry because he edifies the saints in doctrine; but when he was away the other Sunday I could not profit by the preacher because he was all for the conversion of sinners." Yes, he was planting; you have been planted a good while, and do not need planting again; but you ought to be thankful that others are made partakers of the benefit. One soweth and another reapeth, and therefore instead of grumbling at the honest ploughman because he did not bring a sickle with him, you ought to have prayed for him that he might have strength to plough deep and break up hard hearts. Observe that, on God's farm, _there is unity of purpose_ among the laborers. Read the text. "Now he that planteth and he that watereth are one." One Master has employed them, and though he may send them out at different times, and to different parts of the farm, yet they are all one in being used for one end, to work for one harvest. In England we do not understand what is meant by watering, because the farmer could not water all his farm; but in the East a farmer waters almost every inch of his ground. He would have no crop if he did not use all means for irrigating the fields. If you have ever been in Italy, Egypt, or Palestine, you will have seen a complete system of wells, pumps, wheels, buckets, channels, little streamlets, pipes, and so on, by which the water is carried all over the garden to every plant, otherwise in the extreme heat of the sun it would be dried up. Planting needs wisdom, watering needs quite as much, and the piecing of these two works together needs that the laborers should be of one mind. It is a bad thing when laborers are at cross purposes, and work against each other, and this evil is worse in the church than anywhere else. How can I plant with success if my helper will not water what I have planted; or what is the use of my watering if nothing is planted? Husbandry is spoiled when foolish people undertake it, and quarrel over it; for from sowing to reaping the work is one, and all must be done to one end. Let us pull together all our days, for strife brings barrenness. We are called upon to notice in our text that _all the laborers put together are nothing at all_. "Neither is he that planteth anything, neither he that watereth." The workmen are nothing at all without their master. All the laborers on a farm could not manage it if they had no one at their head, and all the preachers and Christian workers in the world can do nothing unless God be with them. Remember that every laborer on God's farm has derived all his qualifications from God. No man knows how to plant or water souls except the Lord teaches him from day to day. All these holy gifts are grants of free grace. All the laborers work under God's direction and arrangement, or they work in vain. They would not know when or how to do their work if their Master did not guide them by his Spirit, without whose help they cannot even think a good thought. All God's laborers must go to him for their seed, or else they will scatter tares. All good seed comes out of God's granary. If we preach, it must be the true word of God, or nothing can come of it. More than that, all the strength that is in the laborer's arm to sow the heavenly seed must be given by the Master. We cannot preach except God be with us. A sermon is vain talk and dreary word-spinning unless the Holy Spirit enlivens it. He must give us both the preparation of the heart and the answer of the tongue, or we shall be as men who sow the wind. When the good seed is sown the whole success of it rests with God. If he withhold the dew and the rain the seed will never rise from the ground; and unless he shall shine upon it the green ear will never ripen. The human heart will remain barren, even though Paul himself should preach, unless God the Holy Ghost shall work with Paul and bless the word to those that hear it. Therefore, since the increase is of God alone, put the laborers into their place. Do not make too much of us; for when we have done all we are unprofitable servants. Yet, though inspiration calls the laborers nothing, it says that _they shall be rewarded_. God works our good works in us, and then rewards us for them. Here we have mention of a personal service, and a personal reward: "Every man shall receive his own reward according to his own labor." The reward is proportionate, not to the success, but to the labor. Many discouraged workers may be comforted by that expression. You are not to be paid by results, but by endeavors. You may have a stiff bit of clay to plough, or a dreary plot of land to sow, where stones, and birds, and thorns, and travellers, and a burning sun may all be leagued against the seed; but you are not accountable for these things; your reward shall be according to your work. Some put a great deal of labor into a little field, and make much out of it. Others use a great deal of labor throughout a long life, and yet they see but small result, for it is written, "One soweth, and another reapeth": but the reaping man will not get all the reward, the sowing man shall receive his portion of the joy. The laborers are nobodies, but they shall enter into the joy of their Lord. _Unitedly_, according to the text, _the workers have been successful_, and that is a great part of their reward. "I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase." Frequently brethren say in their prayers, "A Paul may plant, an Apollos may water, but it is all in vain unless God gives the increase." This is quite true; but another truth is too much overlooked, namely, that when Paul plants and Apollos waters, God does give the increase. We do not labor in vain. There would be no increase without God; but then we are not without God: when such men as Paul and Apollos plant and water, there is sure to be an increase; they are the right kind of laborers, they work in a right spirit, and God is certain to bless them. This is a great part of the laborer's wages. III. So much upon the laborers. Now for the main point again. GOD HIMSELF IS THE GREAT WORKER. He may use what laborers he pleases, but the increase comes alone from him. Brethren, you know it is so in natural things: the most skilful farmer cannot make the wheat germinate, and grow, and ripen. He cannot even preserve a single field till harvest time, for the farmer's enemies are many and mighty. In husbandry there's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip; and when the farmer thinks, good easy man, that he shall reap his crop, there are blights and mildews lingering about to rob him of his gains. God must give the increase. If any man is dependent on God it is the husbandman, and through him we are all of us dependent upon God from year to year for the food by which we live. Even the king must live by the produce of the field. God gives the increase in the barn and the hay-rick; and in the spiritual farm it is even more so, for what can man do in this business? If any of you think that it is an easy thing to win a soul I should like you to attempt it. Suppose that without divine aid you should try to save a soul--you might as well attempt to make a world. Why, you cannot create a fly, how can you create a new heart and a right spirit? Regeneration is a great mystery, it is out of your reach. "The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit." What can you and I do in this matter? it is far beyond our line. We can tell out the truth of God; but to apply that truth to the heart and conscience is quite another thing. I have preached Jesus Christ with my whole heart, and yet I know that I have never produced a saving effect upon a single unregenerate man unless the Spirit of God has opened the heart and placed the living seed of truth within it. Experience teaches us this. Equally is it the Lord's work to keep the seed alive when it springs up. We think we have converts, and we are not long before we are disappointed in them. Many are like blossoms on our apple trees; they are fair to look upon, but they do not come to anything; and others are like the many little apples which fall off long before they have come to any size. He who presides over a great church, and feels an agony for the souls of men, will soon be convinced that if God does not work there will be no work done: we shall see no conversion, no sanctification, no final perseverance, no glory brought to God, no satisfaction for the passion of the Saviour, unless the Lord be with us. Well said our Lord, "Without me ye can do nothing." Briefly I would draw certain practical lessons out of this important truth: the first is, if the whole farm of the church belongs exclusively to the great Master Worker, and the laborers are worth nothing without him, _let this promote unity among all whom he employs_. If we are all under one Master, do not let us quarrel. It is a miserable business when we cannot bear to see good being done by those of a different denomination who work in ways of their own. If a new laborer comes on the farm, and he uses a hoe of a new shape, shall I become his enemy? If he does his work better than I do mine, shall I be jealous? Do you not remember reading in the Scriptures that, upon one occasion, the disciples could not cast out a devil? This ought to have made them humble; but to our surprise we read a few verses further on that they saw one casting out devils in Christ's name, and they forbade him because he followed not with their company. _They_ could not cast out the devil themselves, and they forbade those who could. A certain band of people are going about winning souls, but because they are not doing it in our fashion, we do not like it. It is true they have odd ways; but they do really save souls, and that is the main point. Instead of cavilling, let us encourage all on Christ's side. Wisdom is justified of her children, though some of them are far from handsome. The laborers ought to be satisfied with the new ploughman if their Master smiles upon him. Brother, if the great Lord has employed you, it is no business of mine to question his choice. Can I lend you a hand? Can I show you how to work better? Or can you show me how I can improve? This is the proper behavior of one workman to another. This truth, however, ought to _keep all the laborers very dependent_. Are you going to preach, young man? "Yes, I am going to do a great deal of good." Are you? Have you forgotten that you are nothing? "Neither is he that planteth anything." A divine is coming brimful of the gospel to comfort the saints. If he is not coming in strict dependence upon God, he, too, is nothing. "Neither is he that watereth anything." Power belongeth unto God. Man is vanity and his words are wind; to God alone belongeth power and wisdom. If we keep our places in all lowliness our Lord will use us; but if we exalt ourselves he will leave us to our nothingness. Next notice that _this fact ennobles everybody who labors in God's husbandry_. My soul is lifted up with joy when I mark these words, "For we are laborers together with God": mere laborers on his farm, and yet laborers _with him_. Does the Lord work with us? We know he does by the signs following. "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work," is language for all the sons of God as well as for the great Firstborn. God is with you, my brethren, when you are serving him with all your heart. Speaking to your class concerning Jesus, it is God that speaks by you; picking up that stranger on the way, and telling him of salvation by faith, Christ is speaking through you even as he spoke with the woman at the well; addressing the rough crowd in the open air, young man, if you are preaching pardon through the atoning blood, it is the God of Peter who is testifying of his Son, even as he did on the day of Pentecost. But, lastly, _how this should drive us to our knees_. Since we are nothing without God, let us cry mightily unto him for help in this our holy service. Let both sower and reaper pray together, or they will never rejoice together. If the blessing be withheld, it is because we do not cry for it and expect it. Brother laborers, come to the mercy-seat, and we shall yet see the reapers return from the fields bringing their sheaves with them, though, perhaps, they went forth weeping to the sowing. To our Father, who is the husbandman, be all glory, for ever and ever. Amen. WHAT THE FARM LABORERS CAN DO AND WHAT THEY CANNOT DO. "And he said, So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground; and should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how. For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear. But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come."--MARK 4:26-29. THERE is a lesson for "laborers together with God." It is a parable for all who are concerned in the kingdom of God. It will be of little value to those who are in the kingdom of darkness, for they are not bidden to sow the good seed: "Unto the wicked God saith, What hast thou to do to declare my statutes?" But all who are commissioned to scatter seed for the Royal Husbandman, will be glad to know how the harvest is preparing for him whom they serve. Listen, then, ye that sow beside all waters; ye that with holy diligence seek to fill the garners of heaven--listen, and may the Spirit of God speak into your ears as you are able to bear it. I. We shall, first, learn from our text WHAT WE CAN DO AND WHAT WE CANNOT DO. Let this stand as our first head. "So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground:" this the gracious worker can do. "And the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how:" this is what he cannot do: seed once sown is beyond human jurisdiction, and man can neither make it spring nor grow. Yet ere long the worker comes in again:--"When the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle." We can reap in due season, and it is both our duty and our privilege to do so. You see, then, that there is a place for the worker at the beginning, and though there is no room for him in the middle passage, yet another opportunity is given him further on when that which he sowed has actually yielded fruit. Notice, then, that _we can sow_. Any man who has received the knowledge of the grace of God in his heart can teach others. I include under the term "man" all who know the Lord, be they male or female. We cannot all teach alike, for all have not the same gifts; to one is given one talent, and to another ten; neither have we all the same opportunities, for one lives in obscurity and another has far-reaching influence; yet there is not within the family of God an infant hand which may not drop its own tiny seed into the ground. There is not a man among us who needs to stand idle in the market-place, for work suitable to his strength is waiting for him. There is not a saved woman who is left without a holy task; let her do it and win the approving word, "She hath done what she could." We need never quarrel with God because we cannot do everything, if he only permits us to do this one thing; for sowing the good seed is a work which will need all our wit, our strength, our love, our care. Holy seed sowing should be adopted as our highest pursuit, and it will be no inferior object for the noblest life. You will need heavenly teaching that you may carefully select the wheat, and keep it free from the darnel of error. You will require instruction to winnow out of it your own thoughts and opinions; for these may not be according to the mind of God. Men are not saved by our word, but by God's word. We need grace to learn the gospel aright, and to teach the whole of it. To different men we must, with discretion, bring forward that part of the word of God which will best bear upon their consciences; for much may depend upon the word being _in season_. Having selected the seed, we shall have plenty of work if we go forth and sow it broadcast everywhere, for every day brings its opportunity, and every company furnishes its occasion. "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy hand." "Sow beside all waters." Still, wise sowers discover favorable opportunities for sowing, and gladly seize upon them. There are times when it would clearly be a waste to sow; for the soil could not receive it, it is not in a fit condition. After a shower, or before a shower, or at some such time as he that hath studied husbandry prefers, then must we be up and doing. While we are to work for God always, yet there are seasons when it were casting pearls before swine to talk of holy things, and there are other times when to be silent would be a great sin. Sluggards in the time for ploughing and sowing are sluggards indeed, for they not only waste the day, but throw away the year. If you watch for souls, and use hours of happy vantage, and moments of sacred softening, you will not complain of the scanty space allowed for agency. Even should you never be called to water, or to reap, your office is wide enough if you fulfil the work of the sower. For little though it seem to teach the simple truth of the gospel, yet it is essential. How shall men hear without a teacher? Servants of God, the seed of the word is not like thistle-down, which is borne by every wind; but the wheat of the kingdom needs a human hand to sow it, and without such agency it will not enter into men's hearts, neither can it bring forth fruit to the glory of God. The preaching of the gospel is the necessity of every age; God grant that our country may never be deprived of it. Even if the Lord should send us a famine of bread and of water, may he never send us a famine of the word of God. Faith cometh by hearing, and how can there be hearing if there is no teaching? Scatter ye, scatter ye, then, the seed of the kingdom, for this is essential to the harvest. This seed should be sown often, for many are the foes of the wheat, and if you repeat not your sowing you may never see a harvest. The seed must be sown everywhere, too, for there are no choice corners of the world that you can afford to let alone, in the hope that they will be self-productive. You may not leave the rich and intelligent under the notion that surely the gospel will be found among them, for it is not so: the pride of life leads them away from God. You may not leave the poor and illiterate, and say, "Surely they will of themselves feel their need of Christ." Not so: they will sink from degradation to degradation unless you uplift them with the gospel. No tribe of man, no peculiar constitution of the human mind, may be neglected by us; but everywhere we must preach the word, in season and out of season. I have heard that Captain Cook, the celebrated circumnavigator, in whatever part of the earth he landed, took with him a little packet of English seeds, and scattered them in suitable places. He would leave the boat and wander up from the shore. He said nothing, but quietly scattered the seeds wherever he went, so that he belted the world with the flowers and herbs of his native land. Imitate him wherever you go; sow spiritual seed in every place that your foot shall tread upon. Let us now think of what you cannot do. _You cannot, after the seed has left your hand, cause it to put forth life._ I am sure you cannot make it grow, for you do not know how it grows. The text saith, "And the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how." That which is beyond the range of our knowledge is certainly beyond the reach of our power. Can you make a seed germinate? You may place it under circumstances of damp and heat which will cause it to swell and break forth with a shoot, but the germination itself is beyond you. How is it done? We know not. After the germ has been put forth, can you make it further grow, and develop its life into leaf and stem? No; that, too, is out of your power. And when the green, grassy blade has been succeeded by the ear, can you ripen it? It will be ripened; but can _you_ do it? You know you cannot; you can have no finger in the actual process, though you may promote the conditions under which it is carried on. Life is a mystery; growth is a mystery; ripening is a mystery: and these three mysteries are as fountains sealed against all intrusion. How comes it that there is within the ripe seed the preparations for another sowing and another growth? What is this vital principle, this secret reproducing energy? Knowest thou anything about this? The philosopher may talk about chemical combinations, and he may proceed to quote analogies from this and that; but still the growth of the seed remains a secret; it springs up, he knoweth not how. Certainly this is true of the rise and progress of the life of God in the heart. It enters the soul, and roots itself we know not how. Naturally men hate the word, but it enters and it changes their hearts, so that they come to love it; yet we know not how. Their whole nature is renewed, so that instead of producing sin it yields repentance, faith, and love; but we know not how. How the Spirit of God deals with the mind of man, how he creates the new heart and the right spirit, how we are begotten again unto a lively hope, we cannot tell. The Holy Ghost enters into us; we hear not his voice, we see not his light, we feel not his touch; yet he worketh an effectual work upon us, which we are not long in perceiving. We know that the work of the Spirit is a new creation, a resurrection, a quickening from the dead; but all these words are only covers to our utter ignorance of the mode of his working, with which it is not in our power to meddle. We do not know how he performs his miracles of love, and, not knowing how he works, we may be quite sure that we cannot take the work out of his hands. We cannot create, we cannot quicken, we cannot transform, we cannot regenerate, we cannot save. This work of God having proceeded in the growth of the seed, what next? _We can reap the ripe ears._ After a season God the Holy Spirit uses his servants again. As soon as the living seed has produced first of all the blade of thought, and afterwards the green ear of conviction, and then faith, which is as full corn in the ear, then the Christian worker comes in for further service, for _he can reap_. "When the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle." This is not the reaping of the last great day, for that does not come within the scope of the parable, which evidently relates to a human sower and reaper. The kind of reaping which the Saviour here intends is that which he referred to when he said to his disciples, "Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest." After he had been sowing the seed in the hearts of the Samaritans, and it had sprung up, so that they began to evince faith in him, the Lord Jesus cried, "The fields are white to harvest." The apostle saith, "One soweth, and another reapeth." Our Lord said to the disciples, "I sent you to reap that whereon ye bestowed no labor." Is there not a promise, "In due season we shall reap, if we faint not"? Christian workers begin their harvest work by watching for signs of faith in Christ. They are eager to see the blade, and delighted to mark the ripening ear. They often hope that men are believers, but they long to be sure of it; and when they judge that at last the fruit of faith is put forth, they begin to encourage, to congratulate, and to comfort. They know that the young believer needs to be housed in the barn of Christian fellowship, that he may be saved from a thousand perils. No wise farmer leaves the fruit of the field long exposed to the hail which might beat it out, or to the mildew which might destroy it, or to the birds which might devour it. Evidently no believing man should be left outside of the garner of holy fellowship; he should be carried into the midst of the church with all the joy which attends the home-bringing of sheaves. The worker for Christ watches carefully, and when he discerns that his time is come, he begins at once to fetch in the converts, that they may be cared for by the brotherhood, separated from the world, screened from temptation, and laid up for the Lord. He is diligent to do it at once, because the text saith, "immediately he putteth in the sickle." He does not wait for months in cold suspicion; he is not afraid that he shall encourage too soon when faith is really present. He comes with the word of promise and the smile of brotherly love at once, and he says to the new believer, "Have you confessed your faith? Is not the time come for an open confession? Hath not Jesus bidden the believer to be baptized? If you love him, keep his commandments." He does not rest till he has introduced the convert to the communion of the faithful. For our work, beloved, is but half done when men are made disciples and baptized. We have then to encourage, to instruct, to strengthen, to console, and succor in all times of difficulty and danger. What saith the Saviour? "Go ye therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you." Observe, then, the sphere and limit of agency. We can introduce the truth to men, but that truth the Lord himself must bless; the living and growing of the word within the soul is of God alone. When the mystic work of growth is done, we are able to garner the saved ones in the church. For Christ to be formed in men the hope of glory is not of our working, that remains with God; but, when Jesus Christ is formed in them, to discern the image of the Saviour and to say, "Come in, thou blessed of the Lord, wherefore standest thou without?" this is our duty and delight. To create the divine life is God's, to cherish it is ours. To cause the hidden life to grow is the work of the Lord; to see the uprising and development of that life and to harvest it is the work of the faithful, even as it is written, "When the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come." This, then, is our first lesson; we see what we can do and what we cannot do. II. Our second head is like unto the first, and consists of WHAT WE CAN KNOW AND WHAT WE CANNOT KNOW. First, _what we can know_. We can know when we have sown the good seed of the word that it will grow; for God has promised that it shall do so. Not every grain in every place; for some will go to the bird, and some to the worm, and some to be scorched by the sun; but, as a general rule, God's word shall not return unto him void, it shall prosper in the thing whereto he hath sent it. This we can know. And we can know that the seed when once it takes root will continue to grow; that it is not a dream or a picture that will disappear, but a thing of force and energy, which will advance from a grassy blade to corn in the ear, and under God's blessing will develop to actual salvation, and be as the "full corn in the ear." God helping and blessing it, our work of teaching will not only lead men to thought and conviction, but to conversion and eternal life. We also can know, because we are told so, that the reason for this is mainly because there is life in the word. In the word of God itself there is life, for it is written--"The word of God is quick and powerful," that is, "living and powerful." It is "the incorruptible seed which liveth and abideth for ever." It is the nature of living seeds to grow; and the reason why the word of God grows in men's hearts is because it is the living word of the living God, and where the word of a king is there is power. We know this, because the Scriptures teach us so. Is it not written, "Of his own will begat he us by the word of truth"? Moreover, the earth, which is here the type of the man, "bringeth forth fruit of herself." We must mind what we are at in expounding this, for human hearts do not produce faith of themselves; they are as hard rock on which the seed perishes. But it means this--that as the earth under the blessing of the dew and the rain is, by God's secret working upon it, made to take up and embrace the seed, so the heart of man is made ready to receive and enfold the gospel of Jesus Christ within itself. Man's awakened heart wants exactly what the word of God supplies. Moved by a divine influence the soul embraces the truth, and is embraced by it, and so the truth lives in the heart, and is quickened by it. Man's love accepts the love of God; man's faith wrought in him by the Spirit of God believes the truth of God; man's hope wrought in him by the Holy Ghost lays hold upon the things revealed, and so the heavenly seed grows in the soil of the soul. The life comes not from you who preach the word, but it is placed within the word which you preach by the Holy Spirit. The life is not in your hand, but in the heart which is led to take hold upon the truth by the Spirit of God. Salvation comes not from the personal authority of the preacher, but through the personal conviction, personal faith, and personal love of the hearer. So much as this we may know, and is it not enough for all practical purposes? Still, there is _a something which we cannot know_, a secret into which we cannot pry. I repeat what I have said before: you cannot look into men's inward parts and see exactly how the truth takes hold upon the heart, or the heart takes hold upon the truth. Many have watched their own feelings till they have become blind with despondency, and others have watched the feelings of the young till they have done them rather harm than good by their rigorous supervision. In God's work there is more room for faith than for sight. The heavenly seed grows secretly. You must bury it out of sight, or there will be no harvest. Even if you keep the seed above ground, and it does sprout, you cannot discover _how_ it grows; even though you microscopically watched its swelling and bursting, you could not see the inward vital force which moves the seed. Thou knowest not the way of the Spirit. His work is wrought in secret. "Explain the new birth," says somebody. My answer is, "Experience the new birth, and you shall know what it is." There are secrets into which we cannot enter, for their light is too bright for mortal eyes to endure. O man, thou canst not become omniscient, for thou art a creature, and not the Creator. For thee there must ever be a region not only unknown but unknowable. So far shall thy knowledge go, but no farther; and thou mayest thank God it is so, for thus he leaves room for faith, and gives cause for prayer. Cry mightily unto the Great Worker to do what thou canst not attempt to perform, that so, when thou seest men saved, thou mayest give the Lord all the glory evermore. III. Thirdly, our text tells us WHAT WE MAY EXPECT IF WE WORK FOR GOD, AND WHAT WE MAY NOT EXPECT. According to this parable _we may expect to see fruit_. The husbandman casts his seed into the ground: the seed springs and grows, and he naturally expects a harvest. I wish I could say a word to stir up the expectations of Christian workers; for I fear that many work without faith. If you had a garden or a field, and you sow seed in it, you would be very greatly surprised and grieved if it did not come up at all; but many Christian people seem quite content to work on without expectation of result. This is a pitiful kind of working--pulling up empty buckets by the year together. Surely, I must either see some result for my labor and be glad, or else, failing to see it, I must be ready to break my heart if I be a true servant of the great Master. We ought to have expected results; if we had expected more we should have seen more; but a lack of expectation has been a great cause of failure in God's workers. _But we may not expect to see all the seed which we sow spring up the moment we sow it._ Sometimes, glory be to God, we have but to deliver the word, and straightway men are converted: the reaper overtakes the sower, in such instances; but it is not always so. Some sowers have been diligent for years upon their plots of ground, and yet apparently all has been in vain; at last the harvest has come, a harvest which, speaking after the manner of men, had never been reaped if they had not persevered to the end. This world, as I believe, is to be converted to Christ; but not to-day, nor to-morrow, peradventure not for many an age; but the sowing of the centuries is not being lost, it is working on toward the grand ultimatum. A crop of mushrooms may soon be produced; but a forest of oaks will not reward the planter till generations of his children have mouldered in the dust. It is ours to sow, and to hope for quick reaping; but still we ought to remember that "the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain," and so must we. We are to expect results, but not to be dispirited if we have to wait for them. We are also to expect to see the good seed grow, but _not always after our fashion_. Like children, we are apt to be impatient. Your little boy sowed mustard and cress yesterday in his garden. This afternoon Johnny will be turning over the ground to see if the seed is growing. There is no probability that his mustard and cress will come to anything, for he will not let it alone long enough for it to grow. So is it with hasty workers; they must see the result of the gospel directly, or else they distrust the blessed word. Certain preachers are in such a hurry that they will allow no time for thought, no space for counting the cost, no opportunity for men to consider their ways and turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart. All other seeds take time to grow, but the seed of the word must grow before the speaker's eyes like magic, or he thinks nothing has been done. Such good brethren are so eager to produce blade and ear there and then, that they roast their seed in the fire of fanaticism, and it perishes. They make men think that they are converted, and thus effectually hinder them from coming to a saving knowledge of the truth. Some men are prevented from being saved by being told that they are saved already, and by being puffed up with a notion of perfection when they are not even broken in heart. Perhaps if such people had been taught to look for something deeper they might not have been satisfied with receiving seed on stony ground; but now they exhibit a rapid development, and an equally rapid decline and fall. Let us believingly expect to see the seed grow; but let us look to see it advance after the manner of the preacher--firstly, secondly, thirdly: first the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear. We may expect also to see the seed ripen. Our works will by God's grace lead up to real faith in those he hath wrought upon by his word and Spirit; but _we must not expect to see it perfect at first_. How many mistakes have been made here. Here is a young person under impression, and some good, sound brother talks with the trembling beginner, and asks profound questions. He shakes his experienced head, and knits his furrowed brows. He goes into the corn-field to see how the crops are prospering, and though it is early in the year, he laments that he cannot see an ear of corn; indeed, he perceives nothing but mere grass. "I cannot see a trace of corn," says he. No, brother, of course you cannot; for you will not be satisfied with the blade as an evidence of life, but must insist upon seeing everything at full growth at once. If you had looked for the blade you would have found it; and it would have encouraged you. For my own part, I am glad even to perceive a faint desire, a feeble longing, a degree of uneasiness, or a measure of weariness of sin, or a craving after mercy. Will it not be wise for you, also, to allow things to begin at the beginning, and to be satisfied with their being small at the first? See the blade of desire, and then watch for more. Soon you shall see a little more than desire; for there shall be conviction and resolve, and after that a feeble faith, small as a mustard seed, but bound to grow. Do not despise the day of small things. Do not examine the new-born babe to see whether he is sound in doctrine after your idea of soundness; ten to one he is a long way off sound, and you will only worry the dear heart by introducing difficult questions. Speak to him about his being a sinner, and Christ a Saviour, and you will in this way water him so that his grace in the ear will become the full corn in the ear. It may be that there is not much that looks like wheat about him yet; but by-and-by you shall say, "Wheat! ah, that it is, if I know wheat. This man is a true ear of corn, and gladly will I place him among my Master's sheaves." If you cut down the blades, where will the ears come from? Expect grace in your converts; but do not look to see glory in them just yet. IV. Under the last head we shall consider WHAT SLEEP WORKERS MAY TAKE, AND WHAT THEY MAY NOT TAKE; for it is said of this sowing man, that he sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed springs and grows up he knoweth not how. They say a farmer's trade is a good one because it is going on while he is abed and asleep; and surely ours is a good trade, too, when we serve our Master by sowing good seed; for it is growing even while we are asleep. But how may a good workman for Christ lawfully go to sleep? I answer, first, he may sleep the sleep of _restfulness_ born of confidence. You are afraid the kingdom of Christ will not come, are you? Who asked you to tremble for the ark of the Lord? Afraid for the infinite Jehovah that his purposes will fail? Shame on you! Your anxiety dishonors your God. Shall Omnipotence be defeated? You had better sleep than wake to play the part of Uzzah. Rest patiently; God's purpose will be accomplished, his kingdom will come, his chosen will be saved, and Christ shall see of the travail of his soul. Take the sweet sleep which God gives to his beloved, the sleep of perfect confidence, such as Jesus slept in the hinder part of the ship when it was tossed with tempest. The cause of God never was in jeopardy, and never will be; the seed sown is insured by Omnipotence, and must produce its harvest. In patience possess your soul, and wait till the harvest comes, for the pleasure of the Lord must prosper in the hands of Jesus. Also take that sleep of _joyful expectancy_ which leads to a happy waking. Get up in the morning and feel that the Lord is ruling all things for the attainment of his own purposes, and the highest benefit of all who put their trust in him. Look for a blessing by day, and close your eyes at night calmly expecting to meet with better things to-morrow. If you do not sleep you will not wake up in the morning refreshed, and ready for more work. If it were possible for you to sit up all night and eat the bread of carefulness you would be unfit to attend to the service which your Master appoints for the morning; therefore take your rest and be at peace, and work with calm dignity, for the matter is safe in the Lord's hands. Is it not written, "So he giveth his beloved sleep"? Take your rest because you have consciously resigned your work into God's hands. After you have spoken the word, resort to God in prayer, and commit the matter into God's hand, and then do not fret about it. It cannot be in better keeping, leave it with him who worketh all in all. But do not sleep the sleep of unwatchfulness. The farmer sows his seed, but he does not therefore forget it. He has to mend his fences, to drive away birds, to remove weeds, or to prevent floods. He does not watch the growth of the seed, but he has plenty else to do. He sleeps, but it is only in due time and measure, and is not to be confounded with the sluggard's slumbers. He never sleeps the sleep of indifference, or even of inaction, for each season has its demand upon him. He has sown one field, but he has another to sow. He has sown, but he has also to reap; and if reaping is done, he has to thresh and to winnow. A farmer's work is never done, for in one part or the other of the farm he is needed. His sleep is but a pause that gives him strength to continue his occupation. The parable teaches us to do all that lies within our province, but not to intrude into the domain of God: in teaching to the era we are to labor diligently, but with regard to the secret working of truth upon man's mind, we are to pray and rest, looking to the Lord for the inward power. THE SHEEP BEFORE THE SHEARERS. "As a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth."--ISAIAH 53:7. OUR Lord Jesus so took our place that we are in this chapter compared to sheep: "All we like sheep have gone astray," and he is compared to a sheep also--"As a sheep before her shearers is dumb." It is wonderful how complete was the interchange of positions between Christ and his people, so that he became what they were in order that they might become what he is. We can well understand how we should be the sheep and he the shepherd; but to liken the Son of the Highest to a sheep would have been unpardonable presumption had not his own Spirit employed the condescending figure. Though the emblem is very gracious, its use in this place is by no means singular, for our Lord had been before Isaiah's day typified by the lamb of the Passover. Since then he has been proclaimed as "the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world;" and indeed even in his glory he is the Lamb in the midst of the throne. I. In opening up this divine emblem I would invite you to consider, first, OUR SAVIOUR'S PATIENCE, set forth under the figure of a sheep dumb before her shearers. Our Lord was brought to the shearers that he might be shorn of his comfort, and of his honor, shorn even of his good name, and shorn at last of his life itself; but when under the shearers he was as silent as a sheep. How patient he was before Pilate, and Herod, and Caiaphas, and on the cross! You have no record of his uttering any exclamation of impatience at the pain and shame which he received at the hands of these wicked men. You hear not one bitter word. Pilate cries, "Answerest thou nothing? Behold how many things they witness against thee"; and Herod is wofully disappointed, for he expected to see some miracle wrought by him. All that our Lord does say is in submissive tones, like the bleating of a sheep, though infinitely more full of meaning. He utters sentences like these--"For this purpose was I born, and came into the world, that I might bear witness to the truth," and, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Otherwise he is all patience and silence. Remember, first, that our Lord was dumb and opened not his mouth _against his adversaries_, and did not accuse one of them of cruelty or injustice. They slandered him, but he replied not; false witnesses arose, but he answered them not. One would have thought he must have spoken when they spat in his face. Might he not have said, "Friend, why doest thou this? For which of all my works dost thou insult me?" But the time for such expostulations was over. When they smote him on the face with the palms of their hands, it would not have been wonderful if he had said, "Wherefore do you smite me so?" But no; he is as though he heard not their revilings. He brings no accusation to his Father. He needed only to have lifted his eye to heaven, and legions of angels would have chased away the ribald soldiery; one flash of a seraph's wing and Herod had been eaten by worms, and Pilate had died the death he well deserved as an unjust judge. The hill of the cross might have become a volcano's mouth to swallow up the whole multitude who stood there jesting and jeering at him: but no, there was no display of power, or rather there was so great a display of power over himself that he restrained Omnipotence itself with a strength which never can be measured. Again, as he did not utter a word against his adversaries, so he did not say a word _against any one of us_. You remember how Zipporah said to Moses, "Surely a bloody husband art thou to me," as she saw her child bleeding; and surely Jesus might have said to his church, "Thou art a costly spouse to me, to bring me all this shame and bloodshedding." But he giveth liberally, he openeth the very fountain of his heart, and he upbraideth not. He had reckoned on the uttermost expenditure, and therefore he endured the cross, despising the shame. "This was compassion like a God, That when the Saviour knew, The price of pardon was his blood, His pity ne'er withdrew." No doubt he looked across the ages; for that eye of his was not dim, even when bloodshot on the tree: he must have foreseen your indifference and mine, our coldness of heart, and base unfaithfulness, and he might have left on record some such words as these: "I am suffering for those who are utterly unworthy of my regard; their love will be a miserable return for mine. Though I give my whole heart for them, how lukewarm is their love to me! I am sick of them, I am weary of them, and it is woe to me that I should be laying down my heart's blood for such a worthless race as these my people are." But there is not a hint of such a feeling. No. "Having loved his own which were in the world, he loved them unto the end," and he did not utter a syllable that looked like murmuring at his suffering on their behalf, or regretting that he had commenced the work. And again, as there was not a word against his adversaries, nor a word against you nor me, so their was not a word _against his Father_, nor a syllable of repining at the severity of the chastisement laid upon him for our sakes. You and I have murmured when under a comparatively light grief, thinking ourselves hardly done by. We have dared to cry out against God, "My face is foul with weeping, and on my eyelids is the shadow of death; not for any injustice in mine hands: also my prayer is pure." But not so the Saviour; in his mouth were no complaints. It is quite impossible for us to conceive how the Father pressed and bruised him, yet was there no repining. "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" is an exclamation of astonished grief, but it is not the voice of complaint. It shows manhood in weakness, but not manhood in revolt. Many are the Lamentations of Jeremiah, but few are the lamentations of Jesus. Jesus wept, and Jesus sweat great drops of blood, but he never murmured nor felt rebellion in his heart. Behold your Lord and Saviour lying in passive resignation beneath the shearers, as they take away everything that is dear to him, and yet he openeth not his mouth. I see in this our Lord's _complete submission_. He gives himself up; there is no reserve about it. The sacrifice did not need binding with cords to the horns of the altar. How different from your case and mine! He stood there willing to suffer, to be spit upon, to be shamefully entreated, and to die, for in him there was a complete surrender. He was wholly given to do the Father's will, and to work out our redemption. There was _complete self-conquest_ too. In him no faculty arose to plead for liberty, and ask to be exempted from the general strain; no limb of the body, no portion of the mind, no faculty of the spirit started, but all submitted to the divine will: the whole Christ gave up his whole being unto God, that he might perfectly offer himself without spot for our redemption. There was not only self-conquest, but _complete absorption in his work_. The sheep, lying there, thinks no more of the pastures, it yields itself up to the shearer. The zeal of God's house did eat up our Lord in Pilate's hall as well as everywhere else, for there he witnessed a good confession. No thought had he but for the clearing of the divine honor, and the salvation of God's elect. Brethren, I wish we could arrive at this, to submit our whole spirit to God, to learn self-conquest, and the delivering up of conquered self entirely to God. The wonderful serenity and submissiveness of our Lord are still better set forth by our text, if it be indeed true that sheep in the East are even more docile than with us. Those who have seen the noise and roughness of many of our washings and shearings will hardly believe the testimony of that ancient writer Philo-Judæus when he affirms that the sheep came voluntarily to be shorn. He says: "Woolly rams laden with thick fleeces put themselves into the shepherd's hands to have their wool shorn, being thus accustomed to pay their yearly tribute to man, their king by nature. The sheep stands in a silent inclining posture, unconstrained under the hand of the shearer. These things may appear strange to those who do not know the docility of the sheep, but they are true." Marvellous indeed was this submissiveness in our Lord's case; let us admire and imitate. II. Thus I have feebly set forth the patience of our beloved Master. Now I want you to follow me, in the second place, to VIEW OUR OWN CASE UNDER THE SAME METAPHOR AS THAT WHICH IS USED IN REFERENCE TO OUR LORD. Did I not begin by saying that because we were sheep he deigns to compare himself to a sheep? Let us look from another point of view; our Lord was a sheep under the shearers, and as he is so are we also in this world. Though we shall never be offered up like lambs in the temple by way of expiation, yet the saints for ages were the flock of slaughter, as it is written, "For thy sake we are killed all the day long, we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter!" Jesus sends us forth as sheep in the midst of wolves, and we are to regard ourselves as living sacrifices, ready to be offered up. I dwell, however, more particularly upon the second symbol: we are brought as sheep under the shearers' hands. Just as a sheep is taken by the shearer, and its wool is all cut off, so doth the Lord take his people and shear them, taking away all their earthly comforts, and leaving them bare. I wish when it came to our turn to undergo this shearing operation it could be said of us as of our Lord, "As a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth." I fear that we open our mouths a great deal, and make no end of complaining without any apparent cause, or with the very slenderest reason. But now to the figure. First, remember that _a sheep rewards its owner for all his care and trouble by being shorn_. There is nothing else that I know of that a sheep can do. It yields food when it is killed, but while it is alive the one payment that the sheep can make to the shepherd is to yield its fleece in due season. Some of God's people can give to Christ a tribute of gratitude by active service, and they should do so gladly every day of their lives; but many others cannot do much in active service, and about the only reward they can give to their Lord is to render up their fleece by suffering when he calls upon them to suffer, submissively yielding to be shorn of their personal comfort when the time comes for patient endurance. Here comes the shearer; he takes the sheep and begins to cut, cut, cut, cut, taking away the wool wholesale. Affliction is often used as the big shears. The husband, or perhaps the wife, is removed, little children are taken away, property is shorn off, and health is gone. Sometimes the shears cut off the man's good name; slander follows; comforts vanish. Well, this is your shearing time, and it may be that you are not able to glorify God to any very large extent except by undergoing this process. If this be the fact, do you not think that we, like good sheep of Christ, should surrender ourselves cheerfully, feeling, "I lay myself down with this intent, that thou shouldst take from me anything and everything, and do what thou wilt with me; for I am not mine own, I am bought with a price"? Notice that the sheep is itself _benefited by the operation of shearing_. Before they begin to shear the sheep the wool is long and old, and every bush and brier tears off a bit of the wool, until the sheep looks ragged and forlorn. If the wool were left, when the heat of summer came the sheep would not be able to bear itself, it would be so overloaded with clothing that it would be as uncomfortable as we are when we have kept on our borrowed wool, our flannels and broadcloths, too late. So, brethren, when the Lord shears us, we do not like the operation any more than the sheep do; but first, it is for _his glory_; and secondly, it is for _our benefit_, and therefore we are bound most willingly to submit. There are many things which we should have liked to have kept which, if we had kept them, would not have proved blessings but curses. A stale blessing is a curse. The manna, though it came from heaven, was only good so long as God's command made it a blessing, but when they kept it over its due time it bred worms and stank, and then it was no blessing. Many persons would keep their mercies till they turn to corruption; but God will not have it so. Up to a certain point for you to be wealthy was a blessing; it would not have been a blessing any longer, and so the Lord took your riches away. Up to that point your child was a boon, but it would have been no longer so, and therefore it fell sick and died. You may not be able to see it, but it is so, that God, when he withdraws a blessing from his people, takes it away because it would not be a blessing any longer. Before sheep are shorn _they are always washed_. Were you ever present at the scene when they drive them down to the brook? Men are placed in rows, leading to the shepherd who stands in the water. The sheep are driven down, and the men seize them, throw them into the pool, keeping their faces above water, and swirl them round and round and round to wash the wool before they clip it off. You see them come out on the other side frightened to death, poor things, wondering whatever is coming. I want to suggest to you, brethren, that whenever a trial threatens to overtake you, you should entreat the Lord to sanctify it to you. If the good Shepherd is going to clip your wool, ask him to wash it before he takes it off; ask to be cleansed in spirit, soul, and body. That is a very good custom Christian people have of asking a blessing on their meals before they eat bread. Do you not think it is even more necessary to ask a blessing on our troubles before we get into them? Here is your dear child likely to die; will you not, dear parents, meet together and ask God to bless the death of that child, if it is to happen? The harvest fails; would it not be well to say--"Lord, sanctify this poverty, this loss, this year's bad harvest: cause it to be a means of grace to us." Why not ask a blessing on the cup of bitterness as well as upon the cup of thanksgiving? Ask to be washed before you are shorn, and if the shearing must come, let it be your chief concern to yield clean wool. After the washing, when the sheep has been dried, it actually _loses what was its comfort_. The sheep is thrown down, and the shearers get to work; the poor creature is losing its comfortable fleece. You also will have to part with your comforts. Will you recollect this? The next time you receive a fresh blessing call it a loan. Poor sheep, there is no wool on your back but what will have to come off; child of God, there is no earthly comfort in your possession but what will either leave you, or you will leave it. Nothing is our own except our God. "Why," says one, "not our sin?" Sin was our own, but Jesus has taken it upon himself, and it is gone. There is nothing our own but our God, for all his gifts are held on lease, terminable at his sovereign will. We foolishly consider that our mercies belong to us, and when the Lord takes them away we half grumble. A loan, they say, should go laughing home, and so should we rejoice when the Lord takes back that which he had lent us. All our possessions are but brief favors borrowed for the hour. As the sheep yields up its wool and so loses its comfort, so must we yield up all our earthly properties; or if they remain with us till we die, we shall part with them then, we shall not take so much as one of them across the stream of death. The shearers _take care not to hurt the sheep_; they clip as close as they can, but they do not cut the skin. If possible, they will not draw blood, even in the smallest degree. When they do make a gash, it is because the sheep does not lie still; but a careful shearer has bloodless shears. Of this Thomson sings in his "Seasons," and the passage is so good an illustration of the whole subject that I will adorn my discourse with it: "How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies! What softness in its melancholy face, What dumb complaining innocence appears! Fear not, ye gentle tribes! 'tis not the knife Of horrid slaughter that is o'er you waved; No, 'tis the tender swain's well guided shears, Who having now, to pay his annual care, Borrow'd your fleece, to you a cumbrous load, Will send you bounding to your hills again." It is the kicking and the struggling that make the shearing work at all hard, but if we are dumb before the shearers no harm can come. The Lord may clip wonderfully close; I have known him clip some so close that they did not seem to have a bit of wool left, for they were stripped entirely, even as Job when he cried, "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither." Still, like Job, they have added, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." Notice that the shearers always _shear at a suitable time_. It would be a very wicked, cruel, and unwise thing to begin sheep-shearing in winter time. There is a proverb which talks about God "tempering the wind to the shorn lamb." It may be so, but it is a very cruel practice to shear lambs while winds need tempering. Sheep are shorn when it is warm, genial weather, when they can afford to lose their fleeces, and are all the better for being relieved of them. As the summer comes on sheep-shearing time comes. Have you ever noticed that whenever the Lord afflicts us he selects the best possible time? There is a prayer that he puts into his disciples' mouths, "Pray that your flight be not in the winter;" the spirit of that prayer may be seen in the seasonableness of our sorrows. He will not send us our worst troubles at our worst times. If your soul is depressed the Lord does not send you a very heavy burden; he reserves such a load for times when you have joy in the Lord to be your strength. It has come to be a kind of feeling with us that when we have much delight a trial is near, but when sorrow thickens deliverance is approaching. The Lord does not send us two burdens at a time; or, if he does, he sends double strength. His shearing time is chosen with tender discretion. There is another thing to remember. It is with us as with the sheep, _there is new wool coming_. Whenever the Lord takes away our earthly comforts with one hand, one, two, three, he restores with the other hand six, a score, a hundred; we are crying and whining about the little loss, and yet it is necessary in order that we may be able to receive the great gain. Yes, it will be so, we shall have cause for rejoicing, "joy cometh in the morning." If we have lost one position, there is another for us; if we have been driven out of one place, a better refuge is prepared. Providence opens a second door when it shuts the first. If the Lord takes away the manna, as he did from his people Israel, it is because they have the old corn of the land of Canaan to live upon. If the water of the rock did not follow the tribes any longer, it was because they drank of the Jordan, and of the brooks. O sheep of the Lord's fold, there is new wool coming: therefore do not fret at the shearing. I have given these thoughts in brief, that we may come to the last word. III. Let us, in the third place, endeavor to IMITATE THE EXAMPLE OF OUR BLESSED LORD WHEN OUR TURN COMES TO BE SHORN. Let us be dumb before the shearers, submissive, quiescent, even as he was. I have been giving, in everything I have said, a reason for so doing. I have shown that our shearing by affliction glorifies God, rewards the Shepherd, and benefits ourselves. I have shown that the Lord measures and tempers our affliction, and sends the trial at the right time. I have shown you in many ways that it will be wise to submit ourselves as the sheep does to the shearer, and that the more completely we do so the better. We struggle far too much, and we are apt to make excuses for so doing. Sometimes we say, "Oh, this is so painful, I cannot be patient! I could have borne anything else but this." When a father is going to correct his child, does he select something pleasant? No. The painfulness of the punishment is the essence of it, and even so the bitterness of our sorrow is the soul of our chastening. By the blueness of the wound the heart will be made better. Do not repine because your trial seems strange and sharp. That would in fact be saying, "If I have it all my own way I will, but if everything does not please me I will rebel;" and that is not a fit spirit for a child of God. Sometimes we complain because of our great weakness. "Lord, were I stronger I would not mind this heavy loss; but I am frail as a sere leaf driven of the tempest." But who is to be the judge of the suitability of your trial? You or God? Since the Lord judges this trial to be suitable to your weakness, you may be sure that it is so. Lie still! Lie still! "Alas," you say, "my grief comes from the most cruel quarter; this trouble did not arise directly from God, it came through my cousin or my brother who ought to have treated me with gratitude. It was not an enemy; then I could have borne it." My brother, let me assure you that in reality trial comes not from an enemy after all. God is at the bottom of all your tribulation; look through the second causes to the great First Cause. It is a great mistake when we fret over the human instrument which smites us, and forget the hand which uses the rod. If I strike a dog, he bites my stick; poor creature, he knows no better; but if he could think a little he would bite _me_, or else take the blow submissively. Now, you must not begin biting the stick. After all, it is your heavenly Father that uses the staff; though it be of ebony or of blackthorn, it is in his hand. It is well to have done with picking and choosing our trials, and to leave the whole matter in the hand of infinite wisdom. A sweet singer has put this matter very prettily; let me quote the lines: "But when my Lord did ask me on what side I were content, The grief whereby I must be purified, To me was sent, "As each imagined anguish did appear, Each withering bliss Before my soul, I cried, 'Oh! spare me here, Oh, no, not this!' "Like one that having need of, deep within, The surgeon's knife, Would hardly bear that it should graze the skin, Though for his life. "Nay, then, but he, who best doth understand Both what we need, And what can bear, did take my case in hand, Nor crying heed." This is the pith of my sermon: oh, believer, yield thyself! Lie passive in the hands of God! Yield thee, and struggle not! There is no use in struggling, for our great Shearer, if he means to shear, will do it. Did I not say just now that the sheep, by struggling, might be cut by the shears? So you and I, if we struggle against God, will get two strokes instead of one; and after all there is not half so much trouble in a trouble as there is in kicking against the trouble. The Eastern ploughman has a goad, and pricks the ox to make it move more actively; he does not hurt it much by his gentle prodding, but suppose the ox flings out its leg the moment it touches him, he drives the goad into himself, and bleeds. So it is with us, we shall find it hard to kick against the pricks; we shall endure much more pain by rebelling than would have come if we had yielded to the divine will. What good comes of fretting? We cannot make one hair white or black. You that are troubled, rest with us, for you cannot make shower or shine, foul or fair, with all your groaning. Did you ever bring a penny into the till by fretting, or put a loaf on the table by complaint? Murmuring is wasted breath, and fretting is wasted time. To lie passive in the hand of God brings a blessing to the soul. I would myself be more quiet, calm, and self-possessed. I long to cry habitually, "Lord, do what thou wilt, when thou wilt, as thou wilt, with me, thy servant; appoint me honor or dishonor, wealth or poverty, sickness or health, exhilaration or depression, and I will take all right gladly from thy hand." A man is not far from the gates of heaven when he is fully submissive to the Lord's will. You that have been shorn have, I hope, received comfort through the ever blessed Spirit of God. May God bless you. Oh that the sinner, too, would humble himself under the mighty hand of God! Submit yourselves unto God, let every thought be brought into captivity to him, and the Lord send his blessing, for Christ's sake. Amen. IN THE HAY-FIELD. "He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle."--PSALM 104:14. AT the appointed season all the world is busy with ingathering the grass crop, and you can scarcely ride a mile in the country without scenting the delicious fragrance of the new-mown hay, and hearing the sharpening of the mower's scythe. There is a gospel in the hay-field, and that gospel we intend to bring out as we may be enabled by the Holy Spirit. Our text conducts us at once to the spot, and we shall therefore need no preface. "He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle"--three things we shall notice; first, that _grass is in itself instructive_; secondly, that _grass is far more so when God is seen in it_; and thirdly, that _by the growth of grass for the cattle, the ways of grace may be illustrated_. I. First, then, "He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle." Here we have SOMETHING WHICH IS IN ITSELF INSTRUCTIVE. Scarcely any emblem, with the exception of water and light, is more frequently used by inspiration than the grass of the field. In the first place, the grass may be instructively looked upon as _the symbol of our mortality_. "All flesh is grass." The whole history of man may be seen in the meadow. He springs up green and tender, subject to the frosts of infancy, which imperil his young life; he grows, he comes to maturity, he puts on beauty even as the grass is adorned with flowers; but after a while his strength departs and his beauty is wrinkled, even as the grass withers and is followed by a fresh generation, which withers in its turn. Like ourselves, the grass ripens but to decay. The sons of men come to maturity in due time, and then decline and wither as the green herb. Some of the grass is not left to come to ripeness at all, but the mower's scythe removes it, even as swift-footed death overtakes the careless children of Adam. "In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth. For we are consumed by thine anger, and by thy wrath are we troubled." "As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more." This is very humbling; and we need frequently to be reminded of it, or we dream of immortality beneath the stars. We ought never to tread upon the grass without remembering that whereas the green sod covers our graves, it also reminds us of them, and preaches by every blade a sermon to us concerning our mortality, of which the text is, "All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field." In the second place, grass is frequently used in Scripture as _an emblem of the wicked_. David tells us from his own experience that the righteous man is apt to grow envious of the wicked when he sees the prosperity of the ungodly. We have seen them spreading themselves like green bay trees, and apparently fixed and rooted in their places; and when we have smarted under our own troubles, and felt that all the day long we were scourged, and chastened every morning, we have been apt to say, "How can this be consistent with the righteous government of God?" We are reminded by the Psalmist that in a short time we shall pass by the place of the wicked, and lo, he shall not be; we shall diligently consider his place, and lo, it shall not be; for he is soon cut down as the grass, and withereth as the green herb. The grass withereth, the flower thereof fadeth away, and even so shall pass away forever the glory of those who build upon the estate of time, and dig for lasting comfort in the mines of the earth. As the Eastern husbandman gathers up the green herb, and, despite its former beauty, casts it into the furnace, such must be your lot, O vainglorious sinners! Thus will the judge command his angels, "Bind them in bundles to burn." Where now your merriment? Where now your confidence? Where now your pride and your pomp? Where now your boastings and your loud-mouthed blasphemies? They are silent for ever; for, as thorns crackle under a pot, but are speedily consumed, and leave nothing except a handful of ashes, so shall it be with the wicked as to this life; the fire of God's wrath shall devour them. It is more pleasing to recollect that the grass is used in Scripture as _a picture of the elect of God_. The wicked are comparable to the dragons of the wilderness, but God's own people shall spring up in their place, for it is written, "In the habitation of dragons, where each lay, shall be grass with reeds and rushes." The elect are compared to grass, because of their number as they shall be in the latter days, and because of the rapidity of their growth. You remember the passage, "There shall be a handful of corn in the earth upon the top of the mountains: the fruit thereof shall shake like Lebanon: and they of the city shall flourish like grass of the earth." O that the long expected day might soon come, when God's people shall no longer be like a lone tuft of grass, but when they shall spring up as among the grass, as "willows by the water-courses." Grass and willows are two of the fastest growing things we know of; so shall a nation be born in a day, so shall crowds be converted at once; for when the Spirit of God shall be mightily at work in the midst of the church, men shall fly unto Christ as doves fly to their dovecots, so that the astonished church shall exclaim, "These, where had they been?" O that we might live to see the age of gold, the time which prophets have foretold, when the company of God's people shall be innumerable as the blades of grass in the meadows, and grace and truth shall flourish. How like the grass are God's people for this reason, that they are absolutely dependent upon the influences of heaven! Our fields are parched if vernal showers and gentle dews are withheld, and what are our souls without the gracious visitations of the Spirit? Sometimes through severe trials our wounded hearts are like the mown grass, and then we have the promise, "He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass; as showers that water the earth." Our sharp troubles have taken away our beauty, and lo, the Lord visits us, and we revive again. Thank God for that old saying, which is a gracious doctrine as well as a true proverb, "Each blade of grass has its own drop of dew." God is pleased to give his own peculiar mercies to each one of his own servants. "Thy blessing is upon thy people." Once again, grass is comparable to _the food where-with the Lord supplies the necessities of his chosen ones_. Take the twenty-third Psalm, and you have the metaphor worked out in the sweetest form of pastoral song: "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters." Just as the sheep has nourishment according to its nature, and this nourishment is abundantly found for it by its shepherd, so that it not only feeds, but then lies down in the midst of the fodder, satiated with plenty, and perfectly content and at ease; even so are the people of God when Jesus Christ leads them into the pastures of the covenant, and opens up to them the precious truths upon which their souls shall be fed. Beloved, have we not proved that promise true, "In this mountain shall the Lord of hosts make unto all people a feast of fat things, a feast of wines on the lees, of fat things full of marrow, of wines on the lees well refined"? My soul has sometimes fed upon Christ till I have felt as if I could receive no more, and then I have laid me down in the bounty of my God to take my rest, satisfied with favor, and full of the goodness of the Lord. Thus, you see, the grass itself is not without instruction for those who will incline their ear. II. In the second place, GOD IS SEEN IN THE GROWING OF THE GRASS. He is seen first as a worker, "He _causeth_ the grass to grow." He is seen secondly as a caretaker, "He causeth the grass to grow _for the cattle_." 1. First, as a _worker_, God is to be seen in every blade of grass, if we have but eyes to discern him. A blind world this, which always talks about "natural laws," and "the effects of natural causes," but forgets that laws cannot operate of themselves, and that natural causes, so called, are not causes at all unless the First Cause shall set them in motion. The old Romans used to say, _God_ thundered; _God_ rained. We say _it_ thunders; _it_ rains. What "it"? All these expressions are subterfuges to escape from the thought of God. We commonly say, "How wonderful are the works of _nature_!" What is "nature"? Do you know what _nature_ is? I remember a lecturer in the street, an infidel, speaking about nature, and he was asked by a Christian man standing by whether he would tell him what nature was. He never gave a reply. The production of grass is not the result of natural law apart from the actual work of God; mere law would be inoperative unless the great Master himself sent a thrill of power through the matter which is regulated by the law--unless, like the steam engine, which puts force into all the spinning-jennies and wheels of a cotton mill, God himself were the motive power to make every wheel revolve. I find rest on the grass as on a royal couch, now that I know that my God is there at work for his creatures. Having asked you to see God as a worker, I want you to make use of this--therefore I bid you to see God in _common things_. He makes the grass to grow--grass is a common thing. You see it everywhere, yet God is in it. Dissect it and pull it to pieces; the attributes of God are illustrated in every single flower of the field, and in every green leaf. In like manner see God in your common matters, your daily afflictions, your common joys, your everyday mercies. Do not say, "I must see a miracle before I see God." In truth everything teems with marvel. See God in the bread of your table and the water of your cup. It will be the happiest way of living if you can say in each providential circumstance, "My Father has done all this." See God also in _little things_. The little things of life are the greatest troubles. A man will hear that his house is burned down more quietly than he will see an ill-cooked joint of meat upon his table, when he reckoned upon its being done to a turn. It is the _little_ stone in the shoe which makes the pilgrim limp. To see God in little things, to believe that there is as much the presence of God in a limb falling from the elm as in the avalanche which crushes a village; to believe that the guidance of every drop of spray, when the wave breaks on the rock, is as much under the hand of God, as the steerage of the mightiest planet in its course; to see God in the little as well as in the great--all this is true wisdom. Think, too, of God working among _solitary things_; for grass does not merely grow where men take care of it, but up there on the side of the lone Alp, where no traveller has ever passed. Where only the eye of the wild bird has beheld their lonely verdure, moss and grass display their beauty; for God's works are fair to other eyes than those of mortals. And you, solitary child of God, dwelling, unknown and obscure, in a remote hamlet; you are not forgotten by the love of heaven. He maketh the grass to grow all alone, and shall he not make you flourish despite your loneliness? He can bring forth your graces and educate you for the skies in solitude and neglect. The grass, you know, is a thing we tread upon, nobody thinks of its being crushed by the foot, and yet God makes it grow. Perhaps you are oppressed and down-trodden, but let not this depress your spirit, for God executeth righteousness for all those that are oppressed; he maketh the grass to grow, and he can make your heart to flourish under all the oppressions and afflictions of life, so that you shall still be happy and holy though all the world marches over you; still living in the immortal life which God himself bestows upon you, though hell itself set its heel upon you. Poor and needy one, unknown, unobserved, oppressed and down-trodden, God makes the grass to grow, and he will take care of you. 2. But I said we should see in the text God also as a great _caretaker_. "He causeth the grass to grow _for the cattle_." "Doth God take care for oxen? Or saith he it altogether for our sakes?" "Thou shalt not muzzle the mouth of the ox that treadeth out the corn," shows that God has a care for the beasts of the field; but it shows much more than that, namely that he would have those who work for him feed as they work. God cares for the beasts, and makes grass to grow for them. Then, my soul, though sometimes thou hast said with David, "So foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before thee," yet God cares for thee. "He giveth to the beast his food, and to the young ravens which cry"--there you have an instance of his care for birds, and here we have his care for beasts; and though you, my hearer, may seem to yourself to be as black and defiled as a raven, and as far from anything spiritually good as the beasts, yet take comfort from this text; he gives grass to the cattle, and he will give grace to you, though you think yourself to be as a beast before him. Observe, he cares for these beasts who are _helpless_ as to caring for themselves. The cattle could not plant the grass, nor cause it to grow. Though they can do nothing in the matter, yet he does it all for them; _he_ causeth the grass to grow. You who are as helpless as cattle to help yourselves, who can only stand and moan out your misery, but know not what to do, God can prevent you in his loving-kindness, and favor you in his tenderness. Let the bleatings of your prayer go up to heaven, let the meanings of your desires go up to him, and help shall come to you though you cannot help yourselves. Beasts are _dumb, speechless things_, yet God makes the grass grow for them. Will he hear those that cannot speak, and will he not hear those who can? Since our God views with kind consideration the cattle in the field, he will surely have compassion upon his own sons and daughters when they desire to seek his face. There is this also to be said, God not only cares for cattle, but _the food_ which he provides for them is fit food--he causeth _grass_ to grow for the cattle, just the sort of food which ruminants require. Even thus the Lord God provides fit sustenance for his people. Depend upon him by faith and wait upon him in prayer, and you shall have food convenient for you. You shall find in God's mercy just that which your nature demands, suitable supplies for peculiar wants. This "convenient" food the Lord takes care to reserve for the cattle, for no one eats the cattle's food but the cattle. There is grass for them, and nobody else cares for it, and thus it is kept for them; even so God has a special food for his own people; "the secret of the Lord is with them that fear him, and he will show them his covenant." Though the grass be free to all who choose to eat it, yet no creature careth for it except the cattle for whom it is prepared; and though the grace of God be free to all men, yet no man careth for it except the elect of God, for whom he prepared it, and whom he prepares to receive it. There is as much reserve of the grass for the cattle as if there were walls around it; and so, though the grace of God be free, and there be no bound set about it, yet it is as much reserved as if it were restricted. God is seen in the grass as the worker and the caretaker; then _let us see his hand in providence at all times_. Let us see it, not only when we have abundance, but even when we have scant supplies; for the grass is preparing for the cattle even in the depth of winter. And you, ye sons of sorrow, in your trials and troubles, are still cared for by God; he will accomplish his own divinely gracious purposes in you; only be still and see the salvation of God. Every winter's night has a direct connection with the joyous days of mowing and reaping, and each time of grief is linked to future joy. III. Our third head is most interesting. GOD'S WORKING IN THE GRASS FOR THE CATTLE GIVES US ILLUSTRATIONS CONCERNING GRACE. I will soliloquize, and say to myself as I read the text, "He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle. In this I perceive a satisfying provision for that form of creature. I am also a creature, but I am a nobler creature than the cattle. I cannot imagine for a moment that God will provide all that the cattle need and not provide for me. But naturally I feel uneasy; I cannot find in this world what I want--if I were to win all its riches I should still be discontented; and when I have all that heart could wish of time's treasures, yet still my heart feels as if it were empty. There must be somewhere or other something that will satisfy me as a man with an immortal soul. God altogether satisfies the ox; he must therefore have something or other that would altogether satisfy me if I could get it. There is the grass, the cattle get it, and when they have eaten their share, they lie down and seem perfectly contented; now, all I have ever found on earth has never satisfied me so that I could lie down and be satisfied; there must, then, be something somewhere that would content me if I could get at it." Is not this good reasoning? I ask both the Christian and the unbeliever to go with me so far; but then let us proceed another step: The cattle do get what they want--not only is the grass provided, but they get it. Why should not I obtain what I want? I find my soul hungering and thirsting after something more than I can see with my eyes or hear with my ears; there must be something to satisfy my soul, why should I not find it? The cattle pasture upon that which satisfies them; why should not I obtain satisfaction too? Then I begin to pray, "O Lord, satisfy my mouth with good things, and renew my youth." While I am praying I also meditate and think--God has provided for cattle that which is consonant to their nature; they are nothing but flesh, and flesh is grass, there is therefore grass for their flesh. I also am flesh, but I am something else beside; I am spirit, and to satisfy me I need spiritual meat. Where is it? When I turn to God's word, I find there that though the grass withereth, the word of the Lord endureth for ever; and the word which Jesus speaks unto us is spirit and life. "Oh! then," I say, "here is spiritual food for my spiritual nature, I will rejoice therein." O may God help me to know what that spiritual meat is, and enable me to lay hold upon it, for I perceive that though God provides the grass for the cattle, _the cattle must eat it themselves_. They are not fed if they refuse to eat. I must imitate the cattle, and receive that which God provides for me. What do I find provided in Scripture? I am told that the Lord Jesus came into this world to suffer, and bleed, and die instead of me, and that if I trust in him I shall be saved; and, being saved, the thoughts of his love will give solace and joy to me and be my strength. What have I to do but to feed on these truths? I do not find the cattle bringing any preparation to the pasture except hunger, but they enter it and partake of their portion. Even so must I by an act of faith live upon Jesus. Lord, give me grace to feed upon Christ; make me hungry and thirsty after him; give me the faith by which I may be a receiver of him, that so I may be satisfied with favor, and full of the goodness of the Lord. My text, though it looked small, grows as we meditate upon it. I want to introduce you to a few more illustrations of divine grace. _Preventing grace may here be seen in a symbol._ Grass grew before cattle were made. We find in the first chapter of Genesis that God provided the grass before he created the cattle. And what a mercy that covenant supplies for God's people were prepared before they were born. God had given his Son Jesus Christ to be the Saviour of his chosen before Adam fell; long before sin came into the world the everlasting mercy of God foresaw the ruin of sin, and provided a refuge for every elect soul. What a thought it is for me, that, before I hunger, God has prepared the manna; before I thirst, God has caused the rock in the wilderness to send forth crystal streams to satisfy the thirst of my soul! See what sovereign grace can do! Before the cattle come to the pasture the grass has grown for them, and before I feel my need of divine mercy that mercy is provided for me. Then I perceive an illustration of free grace, for _when the ox comes into the field he brings no money with him_. So I, a poor needy sinner, having nothing, come and receive Christ without money and without price. The Lord maketh the grass to grow for the cattle, and so doth he provide grace for my needy soul, though I have now no money, no virtue, no excellence of my own. And why is it, my friends, why is it that God gives the cattle the grass? The reason is, _because they belong to him_. Here is a text to prove it. "The silver and the gold are mine, and the cattle upon a thousand hills." God provides grass for his own cattle, and grace is provided for God's people. Of every herd of cattle in the world, God could say, "They are mine." Long before the grazier puts his brand on the bullock God has set his creating mark upon it; so, before the stamp of Adam's fall was set upon our brow, the stamp of electing love was set there: "In thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them." God also feeds cattle because _he has entered into a covenant with them to do so_. "What! a covenant with the cattle!" says somebody. Ay! truly so, for when God spake to his servant Noah, in that day when all the cattle came out of the ark, we find him saying, "I establish my covenant with you, and with your seed after you; and with every living creature that is with you, of the fowl, of _the cattle_, and of every beast of the earth with you." Thus a covenant was made with the cattle, and that covenant was that seed-time and harvest should not fail; therefore the earth brings forth for them, and for them the Lord causeth the grass to grow. Does Jehovah keep his covenant with cattle, and will he not keep his covenant with his own beloved? Ah! it is because his chosen people are his covenanted ones in the person of the Lord Jesus, that he provides for them all things that they shall need in time and in eternity, and satisfies them out of the fulness of his everlasting love. Once, again, God feeds the cattle, and then _the cattle praise him_. We find David saying, in the hundred and forty-eighth Psalm, "Praise the Lord ... ye beasts and all cattle." The Lord feeds his people to the end that their glory may sing praise unto him and not be silent. While other creatures give glory to God, let the redeemed of the Lord especially say so, whom he has redeemed out of the hand of the enemy. Nor even yet is our text exhausted. Turning one moment from the cattle, I want you to notice the grass. It is said of the grass, "_He causeth_ the grass to grow": here is a doctrinal lesson, for if grass does not grow without God's causing it to grow, how could grace arise in the human heart apart from divine operations? Surely grace is a much more wonderful product of divine wisdom than the grass can be! And if grass does not grow without a divine cause, depend upon it grace does not dwell in us without a divine implantation. If I have so much as one blade of grace growing within me, I must trace it all to God's divine will, and render to him all the glory. Again, if God thinks it worth his while to make grass, and take care of it, much more will he think it to his honor to cause his grace to grow in our hearts. If the great invisible Spirit, whose thoughts are high and lofty, condescends to look after that humble thing which grows by the hedge, surely he will condescend to watch over his own nature, which he calls "the incorruptible seed, which liveth and abideth for ever!" Mungo Park, in the deserts of Africa, was much comforted when he took up a little piece of moss, and saw the wisdom and power of God in that lonely piece of verdant loveliness. So, when you see the fields ripe and ready for the mower, your hearts should leap for joy to see how God has produced the grass, caring for it all through the rigorous cold of winter, and the chill months of spring, until at last he sent the genial rain and sunshine, and brought the fields to their best condition. And so, my soul, though thou mayest endure many a frost of sorrow and a long winter of trial, yet the Lord will cause thee to grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; to whom be glory for ever. Amen. THE JOY OF HARVEST. "They joy before thee according to the joy in harvest."--ISAIAH 9:3. THE other day I kept the feast with a company who shouted "Harvest Home." I was glad to see the rich and poor rejoicing together; and when the cheerful meal was ended, I was glad to turn one of the tables into a pulpit, and in the large barn to preach the gospel of the ever-blessed God to an earnest audience. My heart was merry in harmony with the occasion, and I shall now keep in the same key, and talk to you a little upon the joy of harvest. Londoners forget that it is harvest time; living in this great desert of dingy bricks we hardly know what a wheat-ear is like, except as we see it dry and white in the window of a corn dealer's shop; yet let us all remember that there is such a season as harvest, when by God's goodness the fruits of the earth are gathered in. WHAT IS THE JOY OF HARVEST which is here taken as the simile of the joy of the saints before God? I am afraid that to the mere selfish order of spirits the joy of harvest is simply that of personal gratification at the increase of wealth. Sometimes the farmer only rejoices because _he sees the reward of his toils_, and is so much the richer man. I hope that with many there mingles the second cause of joy; namely, gratitude to God that an abundant harvest will give bread to the poor, and remove complaining from our streets. There is a lawful joy in harvest, no doubt, to the man who is enriched by it; for any man who works hard has a right to rejoice when at last he gains his desire. It would be well if men would always recollect that their last and greatest harvest will be to them according to their labor. He that soweth to the flesh will of the flesh reap corruption, and only the man that soweth to the spirit will of the spirit reap life everlasting. Many a young man commences life by sowing what he calls his wild oats, which he had better never have sown, for they will bring him a terrible harvest. He expects that from these wild oats he will gather a harvest of true pleasure, but it cannot be; the truest pleasures of life spring from the good seed of righteousness, and not from the hemlock of sin. As a man who sows thistles in his furrows must not expect to reap the golden wheatsheaf, so he who follows the ways of vice must not expect happiness. On the contrary, if he sows the wind he will reap the whirlwind. When a sinner feels the pangs of conscience he may well say, "This is what I sowed." When he shall at last receive the punishment of his evil deeds he will blame no one but himself; he sowed tares and he must reap tares. On the other hand, the Christian man, though his salvation is not of works, but of grace, will have a gracious reward given to him by his Master. Sowing in tears, he shall reap in joy. Putting out his talents to interest, he shall enter into his Master's joy, and hear him say, "Well done, good and faithful servant." The joy of harvest in part consists of the reward of labor; may such be our joy in serving the Lord. The joy of harvest has another element in it, namely, that of _gratitude to God for favors bestowed_. We are singularly dependent on God; far more so than most of us imagine. When the children of Israel were in the wilderness they went forth every morning and gathered the manna. Our manna does not come to us every morning, but it comes once a year. It is as much a heavenly supply as if it lay like a hoarfrost round about the camp. If we went out into the field and gathered food which dropped from the clouds we should think it a great miracle; and is it not as great a marvel that our bread should come up from the earth as that it should come down from the sky? The same God who bade the heavens drop with angels' food bids the dull earth in its due season yield corn for mankind. Therefore whenever we find that harvest comes, let us be grateful to God, and let us not suffer the season to pass over without psalms of thanksgiving. I believe I shall be correct if I say that there is never in the world, as a rule, more than sixteen months' supply of food; that is to say, when the harvest is gathered in, there may be sixteen months' supply; but at the time of harvest there is not usually enough wheat in the whole world to last the population more than four or five months; so that if the harvest did not come we should be on the verge of famine. We live still from hand to mouth. Let us pause and bless God, and let the joy of harvest be the joy of gratitude. To the Christian it should be great joy, by means of the harvest, _to receive an assurance of God's faithfulness_. The Lord has promised that seed-time and harvest, summer and winter, shall never cease; and when you see the loaded wain carrying in the crop you may say to yourself, "God is true to his promise. Despite the dreary winter and the damp spring, autumn has come with its golden grain." Depend upon it, that as the Lord keeps this promise he will keep all the rest. All his promises are yea and amen in Christ Jesus; if he keeps his covenant to the earth, much more will he keep his covenant with his own people, whom he hath loved with an everlasting love. Go, Christian, to the mercy-seat with the promise on your lip and plead it. Be assured it is not a dead letter. Let not unbelief cause you to stammer when you mention the promise before the throne, but say it boldly--"Fulfil this word unto thy servant on which thou hast caused me to hope." Shame upon us that we so little believe our God. The world is full of proofs of his goodness. Every rising sun, every falling shower, every revolving season certifies his faithfulness. Wherefore do we doubt him? If we never doubt him till we have cause for it we shall never know distrust again. Encouraged by the return of harvest, let us resolve in the strength of the Spirit of God that we will not waver, but will believe in the divine word and rejoice in it. Once more. To the Christian, in the joy of harvest there will always be _the joy of expectation_. As there is a harvest to the husbandman for which he waiteth patiently, so there is a harvest for all faithful waiters who are looking for the coming and the appearing of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. The mature Christian, like the ripe ear of corn, hangs down his head with holy humility. When he was but green in the things of God he stood erect and was somewhat boastful, but now that he has become full of the blessing of the Lord he is humbled thereby, and bows himself down; he is waiting for the sickle, and he dreads it not, for no common reaper shall come to gather Christ's people--he himself shall reap the harvest of the world. The Lord leaves the destroying angel to reap the vintage and to cast it into the wine-vat to be trodden with vengeance; but as for the grain which he himself has sown, he will gather it himself with his own golden sickle. We are looking for this. We are growing among the tares, and sometimes we are half afraid lest the tares should be stronger than ourselves and choke the wheat; but we shall be separated by-and-by, and when the corn is well winnowed and stored in the garner, we shall be there. It is this expectation which even now makes our hearts throb with joy. We have gone to the grave with precious sheaves that belonged to our Master, and when we were there we thought we could almost say, "Lord, if they sleep they shall do well. Let us die with them." Our joy of harvest is the hope of being at rest with all the saints, and for ever with the Lord. A view of these shadowy harvests upon earth should make us exceedingly glad, because they are the image and foreshadowing of the eternal harvest above. So much about the joy of harvest; but I hasten onward. WHAT JOYS ARE THOSE WHICH TO THE BELIEVER ARE AS THE JOY OF HARVEST? It is a common notion that Christians are an unhappy people. It is true that we are tried, but it is false that we are miserable. With all their trials, believers have such a compensation in the love of Christ that they are still a blessed generation, and it may be said of them, "Happy art thou, O Israel." One of the first seasons in which we knew a joy equal to the joy of harvest--a season which has continued with us ever since it commenced--was _when we found the Saviour_, and so obtained salvation. You recollect for yourselves, brethren and sisters, the time of the ploughing of your souls. My heart was fallow, and covered with weeds; but on a certain day the great Husbandman came and began to plough my soul. Ten black horses were his team, and it was a sharp ploughshare that he used, and the ploughers made deep furrows. The ten commandments were those black horses, and the justice of God, like a ploughshare, tore my spirit. I was condemned, undone, destroyed, lost, helpless, hopeless--I thought hell was before me. Then there came a cross ploughing, for when I went to hear the gospel it did not comfort me; it made me wish I had a part in it, but I feared that such a boon was out of the question. The choicest promises of God frowned at me, and his threatenings thundered at me. I prayed, but found no answer of peace. It was long with me thus. After the ploughing came the sowing. God who ploughed the heart made it conscious that it needed the gospel, and the gospel seed was joyfully received. Do you recollect that auspicious day when at last you began to have some little hope? It was very little--like a green blade that peeps up from the soil; you scarce knew whether it was grass or corn, whether it was presumption or true faith. It was a little hope, but it grew very pleasantly. Alas, a frost of doubt came; snow of fear fell; cold winds of despondency blew on you, and you said, "There can be no hope for me." But what a glorious day was that when at last the wheat which God had sown ripened, and you could say, "I have looked unto him and have been lightened; I have laid my sins on Jesus, where God laid them of old, and they are taken away, and I am saved." I remember well that day, and so no doubt do many of you. O sirs! no husbandman ever shouted for joy as our heart shouted when a precious Christ was ours, and we could grasp him with full assurance of salvation in him. Many days have passed since then, but the joy of it is still fresh with us. And, blessed be God, it is not the joy of the first day only that we look back upon; it is the joy of every day since then, more or less; for our joy no man taketh from us; still we are walking in Christ, even as we received him. Even now all our hope on him is stayed, all our help from him we bring; and our joy and peace continue with us because they are based upon an immovable foundation. We rejoice in the Lord, yea, and we will rejoice. The joy of harvest generally shows itself by the farmer giving a feast to his friends and neighbors; and, usually, those who find Christ express their joy by telling their friends and their neighbors how great things the Lord hath done for them. The grace of God is communicative. A man cannot be saved, and always hold his tongue about it; as well look for dumb choirs in heaven as for a silent church on earth. If a man has been thirsty, and has come to the living stream, his first impulse will be to cry, "Ho! every one that thirsteth!" Do you feel the joy of harvest, the joy that makes you wish that others should share with you? If so, do not repress the impulse to proclaim your happiness. Speak of Christ to brothers and sisters, to friends and kinsfolk; and, if the language be stammering, the message in itself is so important that the words in which you couch it will be a secondary consideration. Tell it, tell it out far and wide--that there is a Saviour, that you have found him, and that his blood can wash away transgression. Tell it every where; and so the joy of harvest shall spread o'er land and sea, and God shall be glorified. We have another joy which is like the joy of harvest. We frequently have it, too. It is _the joy of answered prayer_. I hope you know what it is to pray in faith. Some prayer is not worth the words used in presenting it, because there is no faith mixed with it. "With all thy sacrifices thou shalt offer salt," and the salt of faith is needful if we would have our sacrifices accepted. Those who are familiar with the mercy-seat know that prayer is a reality, and that the doctrine of divine answers to prayer is no fiction. Sometimes God will delay to answer for wise reasons; then his children must cry, and cry, and cry again. They are in the condition of the husbandman who must wait for the precious fruits of the earth; and when at last the answer to prayer comes, they are then in the husbandman's position when he receives the harvest. Remember Hannah's wail and Hannah's word. In the bitterness of her soul she cried to God, and when her child was given to her she called it "Samuel," meaning, "Asked of God;" for, said she, "For this child I prayed." He was a dear child to her, because he was a child of prayer. Any mercy that comes to you in answer to prayer will be your Samuel mercy, your darling mercy. You will say of it, "For this mercy I prayed," and it will bring the joy of harvest to your spirit. If the Lord desires to surprise his children he has only to answer their prayers; for the most of them would be astonished if an answer came to their petitions. I know how they speak about answers to prayer. They say, "How remarkable! How wonderful!" as if it were anything remarkable that God should be true, and that the Most High should keep his promise. Oh for more faith to rest upon his word! and we should have more of these harvest joys. We have another joy of harvest in ourselves _when we conquer a temptation_. We know what it is to get under a cloud sometimes; sin within us rises with a darkening force, or an external adversity beclouds us, and we miss the plain path we were accustomed to walk in. A child of God at such times will cry mightily for help; for he is fearful of himself and fearful of his surroundings. Some of God's people have been by the week and month together exposed to the double temptation, from without and from within, and have cried to God in bitter anguish. It has been a very hard struggle; the sinful action has been painted in very fascinating colors, and the siren voice of temptation has almost enchanted them. But when at last they have got through the valley of the shadow of death without having slipped with their feet; when, after all, they have not been destroyed by Apollyon, but have come forth again into the daylight, they feel a joy unspeakable, compared with which the joy of harvest is mere childish merriment. Those know deep joy who have felt bitter sorrow. As the man feels that he is the stronger for the conflict, as he feels that he has gathered experience and stronger faith from having passed through the trial, he lifts up his heart, and rejoices, not in himself, but before his God, with the joy of harvest. Brethren beloved, you know what that means. Again, there is such a thing as the joy of harvest _when we have been rendered useful_. The master passion of every Christian is to be useful. There should be a burning zeal within us for the glory of God. When the man who desires to be useful has laid his plans and set about his work, he begins to look out for the results; but perhaps it will be weeks, or years, before results will come. The worker is not to be blamed that there are no fruits as yet, but he is to be blamed if he is content to be without fruits. A preacher may preach without conversions, and who shall blame him? but if he be happy, who shall excuse him? It is ours to break our own hearts if we cannot by God's grace break other men's hearts, if others will not weep for their sins it should be our constant habit to weep for them. When the heart becomes earnest, warm, zealous, God usually gives a measure of success, some fiftyfold, some a hundredfold. When the success comes it is the joy of harvest indeed. I cannot help being egotistical enough to mention the joy I felt when first I heard that a soul had found peace through my youthful ministry. I had been preaching in a village some few Sabbaths with an increasing congregation, but I had not heard of a conversion, and I thought, "Perhaps I am not called of God. He does not mean me to preach, for if he did he would give me spiritual children." One Sabbath my good deacon said, "Don't be discouraged. A poor woman was savingly impressed last Sabbath." How long do you suppose it was before I saw that woman? It was just as long as it took me to reach her cottage. I was eager to hear from her own lips whether it was a work of God's grace or not. I always looked upon her with interest, though only a poor laborer's wife, till she was taken away to heaven, after having lived a holy life. Many since then have I rejoiced over in the Lord, but that first seal to my ministry was peculiarly dear to me. It gave me a sip of the joy of harvest. If somebody had left me a fortune it would not have caused me one-hundredth part of the delight I had in discovering that a soul had been led to the Saviour. I am sure Christian people who have not this joy have missed one of the choicest delights that a believer can know this side heaven. In fact, when I see souls saved, I do not envy Gabriel his throne nor the angels their harps. It shall be our heaven to be out of heaven for a season if we can but bring others to know the Saviour and so add fresh jewels to the Redeemer's crown. I will mention another delight which is as the joy of harvest, and that is _fellowship with the Lord Jesus Christ_. This is not so much a matter for speech as for experience and delight. If we try to speak of what communion with Christ is, we fail. Solomon, the wisest of men, when inspired to write of the fellowship of the church with her Lord, was compelled to write in allegories and emblems, and though to the spiritual mind the Book of Canticles is always delightful, yet to the carnal mind it seems a mere love song. The natural man discerneth not the things that be of God, for they are spiritual, and can only be spiritually discerned. But, oh, the bliss of knowing that Christ is yours, and of entering into nearness of communion with him. To thrust your hand into his side, and your finger into the print of the nails; these be not everyday joys; but when such near and dear communings come to us on our highdays and holydays, they make our souls like the chariots of Ammi-nadib, or, if you will, they cause us to tread the world beneath our feet and all that earth calls good or great. Our condition matters nothing to us if Christ be with us--he is our God, our comfort, and our all, and we rejoice before him as with the joy of harvest. I have no time to enlarge further; for I want to close with one other practical word. Many of us are anxiously desiring a harvest which would bring to us an intense delight. Of late, divers persons have communicated to me in many ways the strong emotion they feel of pity for the souls of men. Others of us have felt a mysterious impulse to pray more than we did, and to be more anxious than ever we were that Christ would save poor perishing sinners. We shall not be satisfied until there is a thorough awakening in this land. We did not raise the feeling in our own minds, and we do not desire to repress it. We do not believe it can be repressed; but others will feel the same heavenly affection, and will sigh and cry to God day and night until the blessing comes. This is the sowing, this is the ploughing, this is the harrowing--may it go on to harvesting. I long to hear my brethren and sisters universally saying, "We are full of anguish, we are in agony till souls be saved." The cry of Rachel, "Give me children, or I die," is the cry of your minister this day, and the longing of thousands more besides. As that desire grows in intensity a revival is approaching. We must have spiritual children born to Christ, or our hearts will break for the longing that we have for their salvation. Oh for more of these longings, yearnings, cravings, travailings! If we plead till the harvest of revival comes we shall partake in the joy of it. Who will have the most joy? Those who have been the most concerned about it. You who do not pray in private, nor come out to prayer-meetings, will not have the joy when the blessing comes, and the church is increased. You had no share in the sowing, therefore you will have little share in the reaping. You who never speak to others about their souls, who take no share in Sunday-school or mission work, but simply eat the fat and drink the sweet--you shall have none of the joy of harvest, for you do not put your hands to the work of the Lord. And who would wish that idlers should be happy? Rather in our zeal and jealousy we feel inclined to say, "Curse ye Meroz, curse ye bitterly the inhabitants thereof; because they came not up to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty." If you come to the help of the Lord by his own divine Spirit, you shall share the joy of harvest. Perhaps none will have more of that joy than those who shall have the privilege of seeing their own dear ones brought to God. Some of you have children who are a trial to you whenever you think of them; let them be such a trial to you that they drive you to incessant prayer for them, and, if the blessing comes, why should it not drop on them? If a revival comes, why should not your daughter yet be converted, and that wild boy of yours be brought in, or even your gray-headed father, who has been sceptical and unbelieving--why should not the grace of God come to him? And, oh, what a joy of harvest you will have then? What bliss will thrill through your spirit when you see those who are united to you in ties of blood united to Christ your Lord! Pray much for them with earnest faith, and you shall yet have the joy of harvest in your own house, a shout of harvest home in your own family. Possibly, my hearer, you have not much to do with such joy, for you are yourself unsaved. Yet it is a grand thing for an unconverted person to be under a ministry that God blesses, and with a people that pray for conversions. It is a happy thing for you, young man, to have a Christian mother. It is a great boon for you, O unconverted woman, that you have a godly sister. These make us hopeful for you. While your relations are prayerful, we are hopeful for _you_. May the Lord Jesus be yours yet. But, oh! if you remain unbelieving, however rich a blessing comes to others, it will leave _you_ none the better for it. "If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land;" but there are some who may cry in piteous accents, "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." It has been remarked that those who pass through a season of revival and remain unconverted are more hardened and unimpressed than before. I believe it to be so, and I therefore pray the divine Spirit to come with such energy that none of you may escape his power. May you be led to pray, "Pass me not, O mighty Spirit! Thou canst make the blind to see; Witnesser of Jesus' merit, Speak the word of power to me, Even me. "Have I long in sin been sleeping, Long been slighting, grieving thee? Has the world my heart been keeping? Oh forgive and rescue me, Even me." Oh for earnest, importunate prayer from all believers throughout the world! If our churches could be stirred up to incessant, vehement crying to God, so as to give him no rest till he make Zion a praise in the earth, we might expect to see God's kingdom come and the power of Satan fall. As many of you as love Christ, I charge you by his dear name to be much in prayer; as many of you as love the Church of God, and desire her prosperity, I beseech you keep not back in this time of supplication. The Lord grant that you may be led to plead till the harvest joy is granted. Do you remember one Sabbath my saying, "The Lord deal so with you as you deal with his work during this next month." I feel as if it will be so with many of you--that the Lord will deal so with you as you shall deal with his Church. If you scatter little you shall have little, if you pray little you shall have little favor; but if you have zeal and faith, and plead much and work much for the Lord, good measure, pressed down and running over, shall the Lord return into your own bosoms. If you water others with drops you shall receive drops in return; but if the Spirit helps you to pour out rivers of living water from your own soul, then floods of heavenly grace shall flow into your spirit. God bring in the unconverted, and lead them to a simple trust in Jesus; then shall they also know the joy of harvest. We ask it for his name's sake. Amen. SPIRITUAL GLEANING. "Let her glean even among the sheaves, and reproach her not."--RUTH 2:15. COUNTRY friends need no explanation of what is meant by gleaning. I hope the custom will never be banished from the land, but that the poor will always be allowed their little share of the harvest. I am afraid that many who see gleaning every year in the fields of their own parish are not yet wise enough to understand the heavenly art of spiritual gleaning. That is the subject which I have chosen on this occasion, and my text is taken from the charming story of Ruth, which is known to every one of you. I shall use the story as setting forth our own case, in a homely but instructive way. In the first place, we shall observe that there is _a great Husbandman_; it was Boaz in Ruth's case, it is our heavenly Father who is the Husbandman in our case. Secondly, we shall notice _a humble gleaner_; the gleaner was Ruth in this instance, but she may be looked upon as the representative of every believer. And, in the third place, here is a _gracious permission given_ to Ruth: "Let her glean even among the sheaves, and reproach her not," and the same permission is spiritually given to us. I. In the first place, the God of the whole earth is A GREAT HUSBANDMAN. This is true in _natural_ things. As a matter of fact all farm operations are carried on by his power and prudence. Man may plough the soil, and sow the seed; but as Jesus said, "My Father is the husbandman." He appoints the clouds and allots the sunshine; he directs the winds and distributes the dew and the rain; he also gives the frost and the heat, and so by various processes of nature he brings forth food for man and beast. All the farming, however, which God does, is for the benefit of others, and never for himself. He has no need of any of our works of husbandry. If he were hungry, he would not tell us. "The cattle on a thousand hills," says he, "are mine." The purest kindness and benevolence are those which dwell in the heart of God. Though all things are God's, his works in creation and in providence are not for himself, but for his creatures. This should greatly encourage us in trusting to him. In _spiritual_ matters God is a great husbandman; and there, too, all his works are done for his children, that they may be fed upon the finest of the wheat. Permit me to speak of the wide gospel fields which our heavenly Father farms for the good of his children. There is a great variety of these fields, and they are all fruitful; for "the fountain of Jacob shall be upon a land of corn and wine; also his heavens shall drop down dew." Deut. 33:28. Every field which our heavenly Father tills yields a plentiful harvest, for there are no failures or famines with him. 1. One part of his farm is called _Doctrine field_. What full sheaves of finest wheat are to be found there! He who is permitted to glean in it will gather bread enough and to spare, for the land brings forth by handfuls. Look at that goodly sheaf of election; full, indeed, of heavy ears of corn, such as Pharaoh saw in his first dream--ears full and strong. There is the great sheaf of final perseverance, where each ear is a promise that the work which God has begun he will assuredly complete. If we have not faith enough to partake of either of these sheaves, we may glean around the choice sheaves of redemption by the blood of Christ. Many a poor soul who could not feed on electing love, nor realize his perseverance in Christ, can yet feed on the atonement and rejoice in the sublime doctrine of substitution. Many and rich are the sheaves which stand thick together in Doctrine field; these, when threshed by meditation and ground in the mill of thought, furnish royal food for the Lord's family. I wonder why it is that some of our Master's stewards are so prone to lock the gate of this field, as if they thought it dangerous ground. For my part, I wish my people not only to glean here, but to carry home the sheaves by the wagon-load, for they cannot be too well fed when truth is the food. Are my fellow-laborers afraid that Jeshurun will wax fat and kick, if he has too much food? I fear there is more likelihood of his dying of starvation if the bread of sound doctrine is withheld. If we have a love to the precepts and warnings of the word, we need not be afraid of the doctrines; on the contrary, we should search them out and feed upon them with joy. The doctrines of distinguishing grace are to be set forth in due proportions to the rest of the word, and those are poor pulpits from which these grand truths are excluded. We must not keep the Lord's people out of this field. I say, swing the gate open, and come in, all of you who are children of God! I am sure that in my Master's field nothing grows which will harm you. Gospel doctrine is always safe doctrine. You may feast upon it till you are full, and no harm will come of it. Be afraid of no revealed truth. Be afraid of spiritual ignorance, but not of holy knowledge. Grow in grace and in the knowledge of your Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Everything taught in the word of God is meant to be the subject of a Christian's study, therefore neglect nothing. Visit the doctrine field daily, and glean in it with the utmost diligence. 2. The great Husbandman has another field called _Promise field_; of that I shall not need to speak, for I hope you often enter it and glean from it. Just let us take an ear or two out of one of the sheaves, and show them to you that you may be induced to stay there the live-long day, and carry home a rich load at night. Here is an ear: "The mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed." Here is another: "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee." Here is another; it has a short stalk, but a heavy ear: "My strength is sufficient for thee." Another is long in the straw, but very rich in corn: "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you; and if I go and prepare a place for you I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also." What a word is that!--"I will come again." Yes, beloved, we can say of the Promise field what cannot be said of a single acre in all England; namely, that it is so rich a field that it could not be richer, and that it has so many ears of corn in it that you could not insert another. As the poet sings: "What more can he say, than to you he hath said,-- You who unto Jesus for refuge have fled?" Glean in that field, O ye poor and needy ones, and never think that you are intruding. The whole field is your own, every ear of it; you may draw out from the sheaves themselves, and the more you take the more you may. 3. Then there is _Ordinance field_; a great deal of good wheat grows in this field. The field of Baptism has been exceedingly fruitful to some of us, for it has set forth to us our death, burial, and resurrection in Christ, and thus we have been cheered and instructed. It has been good for us to declare ourselves on the Lord's side, and we have found that in keeping our Lord's commandments there is great reward. But I will not detain you long in this field, for some of our friends think it has a damp soil: I wish them more light and more grace. However, we will pass on to the field of the Supper, where grows the very best of our Lord's corn. What rich things have we fed upon in this choice spot! Have we not there tasted the sweetest and most sustaining of all spiritual food? In all the estate no field is to be found to rival this centre and crown of all the domain; this is the King's Acre. Gospel gleaner, abide in that field; glean in it on the first day of every week, and expect to see your Lord there; for it is written, "He was known of them in the breaking of bread." 4. The heavenly Husbandman has one field upon a hill, which equals the best of the others, even if it does not excel them. You cannot really and truly go into any of the other fields unless you pass into this; for the road to the other fields lies through this hill farm; it is called _Fellowship and Communion with Christ_. This is the field for the Lord's choicest ones to glean in. Some of you have only run through it, you have not stopped long enough in it; but he who knows how to stay here, yea, to live here, shall spend his hours most profitably and pleasantly. It is only in proportion as we hold fellowship with Christ, and communion with him, that either ordinances, or doctrines, or promises can profit us. All other things are dry and barren unless we are enjoying the love of Christ, unless we bear his likeness, unless we dwell continually with him, and rejoice in his love. I am sorry to say that few Christians think much of this field; it is enough for them to be sound in doctrine, and tolerably correct in practice; they care far less than they should about intimate inter course with Christ Jesus, their Lord, by the Holy Ghost. I am sure that if we gleaned in this field we should not have half so many naughty tempers nor a tenth as much pride, nor a hundredth part so much sloth. This is a field hedged and sheltered, and in it you will find better food than that which angels feed upon; yea, you will find Jesus himself as the bread which came down from heaven. Blessed, blessed field, may we visit it every day. The Master leaves the gate wide open for every believer; let us enter in and gather the golden ears till we can carry no more. Thus we have seen the great Husbandman in his fields; let us rejoice that we have such a great Husbandman near, and such fields to glean in. II. And now, in the second place, we have A HUMBLE GLEANER. Ruth was a gleaner, and may serve as an illustration of what every believer should be in the fields of God. 1. The believer is a favored gleaner, for he _may take home a whole sheaf if he likes_; he may bear away all that he can possibly carry, for all things are freely given him of the Lord. I use the figure of a gleaner because I believe that few Christians ever go much beyond it, and yet they are free to do so if they are able. Some may say, Why does not the believer reap all the field, and take all the corn home with him? I answer that he is welcome to do so if he can; for no good thing will the Lord withhold from them that walk uprightly. If your faith is like a great wagon, and you can carry the whole field of corn, you have full permission to take it. Alas, our faith is so little that we rather glean than reap; we are straitened in ourselves, not in our God. May you all outgrow the metaphor, and come home, bringing your sheaves with you. 2. Again, we may remark, that the gleaner in her business _has to endure much toil and fatigue_. She rises early in the morning, and she trudges off to a field; if that be closed, she hastens to another; and if that be shut up, or gleaned already, she hurries farther still; and all day long, while the sun is shining upon her, she seldom sits down to refresh herself, but still she goes on, stoop, stoop, stoop, gathering the ears one by one. She returns not to her home till nightfall; for she desires, if the field is good, to do much business that day, and she will not go home until she is loaded down. Beloved, so let each one of us do when we seek spiritual food. Let us not be afraid of a little fatigue in the Master's fields; if the gleaning is good, we must not soon weary in gathering the precious spoil, for the gains will richly reward our pains. I know a friend who walks five miles every Sunday to hear the gospel, and has the same distance to return. Another thinks little of a ten miles' journey; and these are wise, for to hear the pure word of God no labor is extravagant. To stand in the aisle till ready to drop, listening all the while with strained attention, is a toil which meets a full reward if the gospel be heard and the Spirit of God bless it to the soul. A gleaner does not expect that the ears will come to her of themselves; she knows that gleaning is hard work. We must not expect to find the best field next to our own house, we may have to journey to the far end of the parish, but what of that? Gleaners must not be choosers, and where the Lord sends the gospel, there he calls us to be present. 3. We remark, next, that _every ear the gleaner gets she has to stoop for_. Why is it that proud people seldom profit under the word? Why is it that certain "intellectual" folk cannot get any good out of our soundest ministers? Why, because they must needs have the corn lifted up for them; and if the wheat is held so high over their heads that they can hardly see it, they are pleased, and cry, "Here is something wonderful." They admire the extraordinary ability of the man who can hold up the truth so high that nobody can reach it; but truly that is a sorry feat. The preacher's business is to place truth within the reach of all, children as well as adults; he is to let fall handfuls on purpose for poor gleaners, and these will never mind stooping to collect the ears. If we preach to the educated people only, the wise ones can understand, but the illiterate cannot; but when we preach in all simplicity to the poor, other classes can understand it if they like, and if they do not like, they had better go somewhere else. Those who cannot stoop to pick up plain truth had better give up gleaning. For my part, I would be taught by a child if I could thereby know and understand the gospel better: the gleaning in our Lord's field is so rich that it is worth the hardest labor to be able to carry home a portion of it. Hungry souls know this, and are not to be hindered in seeking their heavenly food. We will go down on our knees in prayer, and stoop by self-humiliation, and confession of ignorance, and so gather with the hand of faith the daily bread of our hungering souls. 4. Note, in the next place, that what a gleaner gets _she wins ear by ear_; occasionally she picks up a handful at once, but as a rule it is straw by straw. In the case of Ruth, handfuls were let fall on purpose for her; but she was highly favored. The gleaner stoops, and gets one ear, and then she stoops again for another. Now, beloved, where there are handfuls to be got at once, there is the place to go and glean; but if you cannot meet with such abundance, be glad to gather ear by ear. I have heard of certain persons who have been in the habit of hearing a favorite minister, and when they go to another place, they say, "I cannot hear anybody after my own minister; I shall stay at home and read a sermon." Please remember the passage, "Not forsaking the assembling of yourselves together, as the manner of some is." Let me also entreat you not to be so foolishly partial as to deprive your soul of its food. If you cannot get a handful at one stoop, do not refuse to gather an ear at a time. If you are not content to learn here a little and there a little, you will soon be half starved, and then you will be glad to get back again to the despised minister and pick up what his field will yield you. That is a sorry ministry which yields nothing. Go and glean where the Lord has opened the gate for you. Why the text alone is worth the journey; do not miss it. 5. Note, next, that _what the gleaner picks up she keeps in her hand_; she does not drop the corn as fast as she gathers it. There is a good thought at the beginning of the sermon, but the hearers are so eager to hear another, that the first one slips away. Toward the end of the sermon a large handful falls in their way, and they forget all that went before in their eagerness to retain this last and richest portion. The sermon is over, and, alas, it is nearly all gone from the memory, for many are about as wise as a gleaner would be if she should pick up one ear, and drop it; pick up another, and drop it, and so on all day. The net result of such a day's work in a stubble is a bad backache; and I fear that all our hearers will get by their hearing will be a headache. Be attentive, but be retentive too. Gather the grain and tie it up in bundles for carrying away with you, and mind you do not lose it on the road home. Many a person when he has got a fair hold of the sermon, loses it on the way to his house by idle talk with vain companions. I have heard of a Christian man who was seen hurrying home one Sunday with all his might. A friend asked him why he was in such haste. "Oh!" said he, "two or three Sundays ago, our minister gave us a most blessed discourse, and I greatly enjoyed it; but when I got outside, there were two deacons discussing, and one pulled the sermon one way, and the other the other, till they pulled it all to pieces, and I lost all the savor of it." Those must have been very bad deacons; let us not imitate them; and if we know of any who are of their school, let us walk home alone in dogged silence sooner than lose all our gleanings by their controversies. After a good sermon go home with your ears and your mouth shut. Act like the miser, who not only gets all he can, but keeps all he can. Do not lose by trifling talk that which may make you rich to all eternity. 6. Then, again, the gleaner _takes the wheat home and threshes it_. It is a wise thing to thresh a sermon, whoever may have been the preacher, for it is certain that there is a portion of straw and chaff about it. Many thresh the preacher by finding needless fault; but that is not half so good as threshing the sermon to get out of it the pure truth. Take a sermon, beloved, when you get one which is worth having, and lay it down on the floor of meditation, and beat it out with the flail of prayer, and you will get bread-corn from it. This threshing by prayer and meditation must never be neglected. If a gleaner should stow away her corn in her room, and leave it there, the mice would get at it; but she would have no food from it if she did not thresh out the grain. Some get a sermon, and carry it home, and allow Satan and sin, and the world, to eat it all up, and it becomes unfruitful and worthless to them. But he who knows how to flail a sermon well, so as to clear out all the wheat from the straw, he is it that makes a good hearer and feeds his soul on what he hears. 7. And then, in the last place, the good woman, after threshing the corn, no doubt _winnowed it_. Ruth did all this in the field; but you can scarcely do so. You must do some of the work at home. And observe, she did not take the chaff home; she left that behind her in the field. It is a prudent thing to winnow all the discourses you hear so as to separate the precious from the vile; but pray do not fall into the silly habit of taking home all the chaff, and leaving the corn behind. I think I hear you say, "I shall recollect that queer expression; I shall make an anecdote out of that odd remark." Listen, then, for I have a word for you--if you hear a man retail nothing about a minister except his oddities, just stop him, and say, "We have all our faults, and perhaps those who are most ready to speak of those of others are not quite perfect themselves: cannot you tell us what the preacher said that was worth hearing?" In many cases the virtual answer will be, "Oh, I don't recollect that." They have sifted the corn, thrown away the good grain, and brought home the chaff. Ought they not to be put in an asylum? Follow the opposite rule; drop the straw, and retain the good corn. Separate between the precious and the vile, and let the worthless material go where it may; you have no use for it, and the sooner you are rid of it the better. Judge with care; reject false teaching with decision, and retain true doctrine with earnestness, so shall you practise the enriching art of heavenly gleaning. May the Lord teach us wisdom, so that we may become "rich to all the intents of bliss;" so shall our mouth be satisfied with good things, and our youth shall be renewed like the eagle's. III. And now, in the last place, here is A GRACIOUS PERMISSION GIVEN: "Let her glean among the sheaves, and reproach her not." Ruth had no right to go among the sheaves till Boaz gave her permission by saying, "Let her do it." For her to be allowed to go among the sheaves, in that part of the field where the wheat was newly cut, and none of it carted, was a great favor: but Boaz whispered that handfuls were to be dropped on purpose for her, and that was a greater favor still. Boaz had a secret love for the maiden, and even so, beloved, it is because of our Lord's eternal love to us that he allows us to enter his best fields and glean among the sheaves. His grace permits us to lay hold upon doctrinal blessings, promise blessings, and experience blessings: the Lord has a favor toward us, and hence these singular kindnesses. We have no right to any heavenly blessings of ourselves; our portion is due to free and sovereign grace. I tell you the reasons that moved Boaz's heart to let Ruth go among the sheaves. The master motive was _because he loved her_. He would have her go there, because he had conceived an affection for her, which he afterward displayed in grander ways. So the Lord lets his people come and glean among the sheaves, because he loves them. Didst thou have a soul-enriching season among the sheaves the other Sabbath? Didst thou carry home thy sack, filled like those of Joseph's brothers, when they returned from Egypt? Didst thou have an abundance? Wast thou satisfied? Mark; that was thy Master's goodness. It was because he loved thee. Look, I beseech thee, on all thy spiritual enjoyments as proof of his eternal love. Look on all heavenly blessings as being tokens of heavenly grace. It will make thy corn grind all the better, and eat all the sweeter, if thou wilt reflect that eternal love gave it thee. Thy sweet seasons, thy high enjoyments, thy unspeakable ravishments of spirit are all proofs of divine affection, therefore be doubly glad of them. There was another reason why Boaz allows Ruth to glean among the sheaves; it was because he was her _relative_. This is why our Lord gives us choice favors at times, and takes us into his banqueting-house in so gracious a manner. He is our next of kin, bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh. Our Redeemer, our kinsman, is the Lord Jesus, and he will never be strange to his own flesh. It is a high and charming mystery that our Lord Jesus is the Husband of his church; and sure he may well let his spouse glean among the sheaves; for all that he possesses is hers already. Her interests and his interests are one, and so he may well say, "Beloved, take all thou pleasest; I am none the poorer because thou dost partake of my fulness, for thou art mine. Thou art my partner, and my choice, and all that I have is thine." What, then, shall I say to you who are my Lord's beloved? How shall I speak with a tenderness and generosity equal to his desires, for he would have me speak right lovingly in his name. Enrich yourselves out of that which is your Lord's. Go a spiritual gleaning as often as ever you can. Never lose an opportunity of picking up a golden blessing. Glean at the mercy-seat; glean in private meditation; glean in reading pious books; glean in associating with godly men; glean everywhere; and if you can get only a little handful it will be better than none. You who are so much in business, and so much penned up by cares; if you can only spend five minutes in the Lord's field gleaning a little, be sure to do so. If you cannot bear away a sheaf, carry an ear; and if you cannot find an ear, pick up even a grain of wheat. Take care to get a little, if you cannot get much: but gather as much as ever you can. Just one other remark. O child of God, never be afraid to glean. Have faith in God, and take the promises home to yourself. Jesus will rejoice to see you making free with his good things. His voice is "Eat abundantly; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved." Therefore, if you find a rich promise, live upon it. Draw the honey out of the comb of Scripture, and live on its sweetness. If you meet with a most extraordinary sheaf, carry it away rejoicing. You cannot believe too much concerning your Lord; let not Satan cheat you into contentment with a meagre portion of grace when all the granaries of heaven are open to you. Glean on with humble industry and hopeful confidence, and know that he who owns both fields and sheaves is looking upon you with eyes of love, and will one day espouse you to himself in glory everlasting. Happy gleaner who finds eternal love and eternal life in the fields in which he gleans! MEAL-TIME IN THE CORNFIELDS. "And Boaz said unto her, At meal-time come thou hither, and eat of the bread, and dip thy morsel in the vinegar. And she sat beside the reapers: and he reached her parched corn, and she did eat, and was sufficed, and left."--RUTH 2:14. WE are going to the cornfields, not so much to glean, as to rest with the reapers and gleaners, when under some wide-spreading oak they sit down to take refreshment. We hope some timid gleaner will accept our invitation to come and eat with us, and will have confidence enough to dip _her_ morsel in the vinegar. May all of us have courage to feast to the full on our own account, and kindness enough to carry home a portion to our needy friends at home. I. Our first point of remark is this--THAT GOD'S REAPERS HAVE THEIR MEAL-TIMES. Those who work for God will find him a good master. He cares for oxen, and he has commanded Israel, "Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn." Much more doth he care for his servants who serve him. "He hath given meat unto them that fear him: he will ever be mindful of his covenant." The reapers in Jesus' fields shall not only receive a blessed reward at the last, but they shall have plenteous comforts by the way. He is pleased to pay his servants twice; first in the labor itself, and a second time in the labor's sweet results. He gives them such joy and consolation in the service of their Master that it is a sweet employ, and they cry, "We delight to do thy will, O Lord." Heaven is made up of serving God day and night, and a foretaste of heaven is enjoyed in serving God on earth with earnest perseverance. God has ordained certain meal-times for his reapers; and he has appointed that one of these shall be _when they come together to listen to the Word preached_. If God be with ministers they act as the disciples did of old, for they received the loaves and the fishes from the Lord Jesus, and then they handed them to the people. _We_, of ourselves, cannot feed one soul, much less thousands; but when the Lord is with us we can keep as good a table as Solomon himself, with all his fine flour, and fat oxen, and roebucks, and fallow-deer. When the Lord blesses the provisions of his House, no matter how many thousands there may be, all his poor shall be filled with bread. I hope, beloved, you know what it is to sit under the shadow of the Word with great delight, and find the fruit thereof sweet unto your taste. Where the doctrines of grace are boldly and plainly delivered to you in connection with the other truths of revelation; where Jesus Christ upon his cross is always lifted up; where the work of the Spirit is not forgotten; where the glorious purpose of the Father is never despised, there is sure to be rich provision for the children of God. Often, too, our gracious Lord appoints us meal-times _in our private readings and meditations_. Here it is that his "paths drop fatness." Nothing can be more fattening to the soul of the believer than feeding upon the Word, and digesting it by frequent meditation. No wonder that men grow so slowly when they meditate so little. Cattle must chew the cud; it is not that which they crop with their teeth, but that which is masticated, and digested by rumination, that nourishes them. We must take the truth, and turn it over and over again in the inward parts of our spirit, and so shall we extract suitable nourishment therefrom. My brethren, is not meditation the land of Goshen to you? If men once said, "There is corn in Egypt," may they not always say that the finest of the wheat is to be found in secret prayer? Private devotion is a land which floweth with milk and honey; a paradise yielding all manner of fruits; a banqueting house of choice wines. Ahasuerus might make a great feast, but all his hundred and twenty provinces could not furnish such dainties as meditation offers to the spiritual mind. Where can we feed and lie down in green pastures in so sweet a sense as we do in our musings on the Word? Meditation distils the quintessence of joy from the Scriptures, and gladdens our mouth with a sweetness which excels the virgin honey. Your retired periods and occasions of prayer should be to you refreshing seasons, in which, like the reapers at noonday, you sit with the Master and enjoy his generous provisions. The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain was wont to say that when he was lonely, and his wallet was empty, his Bible was to him meat and drink, and company too; he is not the only man who has found a fulness in the Word when all else has been empty. During the battle of Waterloo a godly soldier, mortally wounded, was carried by his comrade into the rear, and being placed with his back propped up against a tree, he besought his friend to open his knapsack and take out the Bible which he had carried in it. "Read to me," he said, "one verse before I close my eyes in death." His comrade read him that verse: "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you;" and there, fresh from the whistling of the bullets, and the roll of the drum, and the tempest of human conflict, that believing spirit enjoyed such holy calm that ere he fell asleep in the arms of Jesus he said, "Yes, I have a peace with God which passeth all understanding, which keeps my heart and mind through Jesus Christ." Saints most surely enjoy delightful meal-times when they are alone in meditation. Let us not forget that there is one specially ordained meal-time which ought to occur at least once in the week--I mean _the Supper of the Lord_. There you have literally, as well as spiritually, a meal. The table is richly spread, it has upon it both bread and wine; and looking at what these symbolize, we have before us a table richer than that which kings could furnish. There we have the flesh and the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, whereof if a man eat he shall never hunger and never thirst, for that bread shall be unto him everlasting life. Oh! the sweet seasons we have known at the Lord's Supper. If some of you knew the enjoyment of feeding upon Christ in that ordinance you would chide yourselves for not having united with the Church in fellowship. In keeping the Master's commandments there is "great reward," and consequently in neglecting them there is great loss of reward. Christ is not so tied to the sacramental table as to be always found of those who partake thereat, but still it is "in the way" that we may expect the Lord to meet with us. "If ye love me, keep my commandments," is a sentence of touching power. Sitting at this table, our soul has mounted up from the emblem to the reality; we have eaten bread in the kingdom of God, and have leaned our head upon Jesus' bosom. "He brought me to the banqueting-house, and his banner over me was love." Besides these regular meal-times, there are others which God gives us, _at seasons when, perhaps, we little expect them_. You have been walking the street, and suddenly you have felt a holy flowing out of your soul toward God; or in the middle of business your heart has been melted with love and made to dance for joy, even as the brooks, which have been bound with winter's ice, leap to feel the touch of spring. You have been groaning, dull, and earth-bound; but the sweet love of Jesus has enwrapped your heart when you scarce thought of it, and your spirit, all free, and all on fire, has rejoiced before the Lord with timbrel and dance, like Miriam of old. I have had times occasionally in preaching when I would fain have kept on far beyond the appointed hour, for my overflowing soul has been like a vessel wanting vent. Seasons, too, we have had on our sick beds, when we would have been content to be sick always if we could have had our bed so well made by tender love, and our head so softly pillowed on condescending grace. Our blessed Redeemer comes to us in the morning, and wakes us up by dropping sweet thoughts upon our souls; we know not how they came, but it is as if, when the dew was visiting the flowers, a few drops had taken pity upon us. In the cool eventide, too, as we have gone to our bed, our meditation of him has been sweet; and, in the night watches, when we tossed to and fro, and could not sleep, he has been pleased to become our song in the night. God's reapers find it hard work to reap; but they gain a blessed solace when in one way or another they sit down and eat of their Master's rich provisions; then, with renewed strength, they rise with sharpened sickle, to reap again in the noontide heat. Let me observe that, while these meal-times come we know not exactly when, there are _certain seasons when we may expect them_. The Eastern reapers generally sit down under the shelter of a tree, or a booth, to take refreshment during the heat of the day. And certain I am that when trouble, affliction, persecution, and bereavement become the most painful to us, it is then that the Lord hands out to us the sweetest comforts. We must work till the hot sun forces the sweat from our faces, and then we may look for repose; we must bear the burden and heat of the day before we can expect to be invited to those choice meals which the Lord prepares for true laborers. When thy day of trouble is hottest, then the love of Jesus shall be sweetest. Again, these meal-times frequently occur _before_ a trial. Elijah must be entertained beneath a juniper tree, for he is to go a forty days' journey in the strength of that meat. You may suspect some danger nigh when your delights are overflowing. If you see a ship taking in great quantities of provision, it is probably bound for a distant port, and when God gives you extraordinary seasons of communion with Jesus, you may look for long leagues of tempestuous sea. Sweet cordials prepare for stern conflicts. Times of refreshing also occur _after_ trouble or arduous service. Christ was tempted of the devil, and _afterward_ angels came and ministered unto him. Jacob wrestled with God, and afterward, at Mahanaim, hosts of angels met him. Abraham fought with the kings, and returned from their slaughter, and then it was that Melchisedec refreshed him with bread and wine. After conflict, content; after battle, banquet. When thou hast waited on thy Lord, then thou shalt sit down, and thy Master will gird himself and wait upon thee. Let worldlings say what they will about the hardness of religion, we do not find it so. We own that reaping for Christ has its difficulties and troubles; but still the bread which we eat is of heavenly sweetness, and the wine which we drink is crushed from celestial clusters: "I would not change my bless'd estate For all the world calls good or great; And while my faith can keep her hold, I envy not the sinner's gold." II. Follow me while we turn to a second point. TO THESE MEALS THE GLEANER IS AFFECTIONATELY INVITED. That is to say, the poor, trembling stranger who has not strength enough to reap, who has no right to be in the field except the right of charity the poor, trembling sinner, conscious of his own demerit, and feeling but little hope and little joy, is invited to the feast of love. In the text _the gleaner is invited to come_. "At meal-time _come_ thou hither." We trust none of you will be kept away from the place of holy feasting by any shame on account of your dress, or your personal character, or your poverty; nay, nor even on account of your physical infirmities. "At meal-time come thou hither." I knew a deaf woman who could never hear a sound, and yet she was always in the House of God, and when asked why, her reply was that a friend found her the text, and then God was pleased to give her many a sweet thought upon it while she sat with his people; besides, she felt that as a believer she ought to honor God by her _presence_ in his courts, and by confessing her union with his people; and, better still, she always liked to be in the best of company, and as the presence of God was there, and the holy angels, and the saints of the Most High, whether she could hear or no, she would go. If _such_ persons find pleasure in coming, we who _can_ hear should never stay away. Though we feel our unworthiness, we ought to be desirous to be laid in the House of God, as the sick were at the pool of Bethesda, hoping that the waters may be stirred, and that we may step in and be healed. Trembling soul, never let the temptations of the devil keep thee from the assembly of worshippers; "at meal-time come thou hither." Moreover, _she was bidden not only to come but to eat_. Whatever there is sweet and comfortable in the Word of God, ye that are of a broken and contrite spirit are invited to partake of it. "Jesus Christ came into the world to save _sinners_"--sinners such as you are. "In due time Christ died for the _ungodly_"--such ungodly ones as you feel yourselves to be. You desire to be Christ's. You _may_ be Christ's. You are saying in your heart, "O that I could eat the children's bread!" You _may_ eat it. You say, "I have no right." But the Lord gives you the invitation. Come without any other right than the right of his invitation. "Let not conscience make you linger, Nor of fitness fondly dream." But since he bids you "come," take him at his word; and if there be a promise, believe it; if there be an encouraging word, accept it, and let the sweetness of it be yours. Note further, that she was not only invited to eat the bread, but to _dip her morsel in the vinegar_. We must not look upon this as being some sour stuff. No doubt there are crabbed souls in the church, who always dip their morsel in the sourest imaginable vinegar, and with a grim liberality invite others to share their misery with them; but the vinegar in my text is altogether another thing. This was either a compound of various juices expressed from fruits, or else it was that weak kind of wine mingled with water which is still commonly used in the harvest-fields of Italy and the warmer parts of the world--a drink not exceedingly strong, but good enough to impart a relish to the food. It was, to use the only word which will give the meaning, _a sauce_, which the Orientals used with their bread. As we use butter, or as they on other occasions used oil, so in the harvest-field, believing it to have cooling properties, they used what is here called "vinegar." Beloved, the Lord's reapers have sauce with their bread; they have not merely doctrines, but the holy unction which is the essence of doctrines; they have not merely truths, but a hallowed delight accompanies the truths. Take, for instance, the doctrine of election, which is like the bread; there is a sauce to dip it in. When I can say, "He loved _me_ before the foundations of the world," the personal enjoyment of my interest in the truth becomes a sauce into which I dip my morsel. And you, poor gleaner, are invited to dip your morsel in it too. I used to hear people sing that hymn of Toplady's, which begins-- "A debtor to mercy alone, Of covenant mercy I sing; Nor fear, with thy righteousness on, My person and offering to bring." The hymn rises to its climax in the lines-- "Yes, I to the end shall endure, As sure as the earnest is given; More happy, but not more secure, The glorified spirits in heaven." I used to think I should never be able to sing that hymn. It was the sauce, you know. I might manage to eat some of the plain bread, but I could not dip it in that sauce. It was too high doctrine, too sweet, too consoling. But I thank God I have since ventured to dip my morsel in it, and now I hardly like my bread without it. I would have every trembling sinner partake of the _comfortable_ parts of God's Word, even those which cavillers call "HIGH DOCTRINE." Let him believe the simpler truth first, and then dip it in the sweet doctrine and be happy in the Lord. I think I see the gleaner half prepared to come, for she is very hungry, and she has nothing with her; but she begins to say, "I have no right to come, for I am not a reaper; I do nothing for Christ; I am only a _selfish gleaner_; I am not a reaper." Ah! but thou art invited to come. Make no questions about it. Boaz bids thee; take thou his invitation, and approach at once. "But," you say, "I am such a _poor_ gleaner; though my labor is all for myself, yet it is little I win by it; I get a few thoughts while the sermon is being preached, but I lose them before I reach home." I know you do, poor weak-handed woman. But still, Jesus invites thee. Come! Take thou the sweet promise as he presents it to thee, and let no bashfulness of thine send thee home hungry. "But," you say, "I am _a stranger_; you do not know my sins, my sinfulness, and the waywardness of my heart." But Jesus does, and yet he invites you. He knows you are but a Moabitess, a stranger from the commonwealth of Israel; but he bids you come. Is not that enough? "But," you say, "I owe so much to him already; it is so good of him to spare my forfeited life, and so tender of him to let me hear the gospel preached at all; I cannot have the presumption to be an intruder, and sit with the reapers." Oh! but he _bids_ you. There is more presumption in your doubting than there could be in your believing. HE bids you. Will you refuse Boaz? Shall Jesus' lips give the invitation, and will you say him nay? Come, now, come. Remember that the little which Ruth could eat did not make Boaz any the poorer; and all that thou wantest will make Christ none the less glorious or full of grace. Are thy necessities large? His supplies are larger. Dost thou require great mercy? He is a great Saviour. I tell thee that his mercy is no more to be exhausted than the sea is to be drained. Come at once. There is enough for thee, and Boaz will not be impoverished by thy feasting to the full. Moreover, let me tell thee a secret--Jesus _loves_ thee; therefore is it that he would have thee feed at his table. If thou art now a longing, trembling sinner, willing to be saved, but conscious that thou deservest it not, Jesus loves thee, and he will take more delight in seeing thee eat than thou wilt take in the eating. Let the sweet love he feels in his soul toward thee draw thee to him. And what is more--but this is a great secret, and must only be whispered in your ear--_he intends to be married to you_; and when you are married to him, why, the fields will be yours; for, of course, if you are his spouse, you are joint proprietor with him. Is it not so? Doth not the wife share with the husband? All those promises which are "yea and amen in Christ" shall be yours; nay, they all _are_ yours now, for "the man is next of kin unto you," and ere long he will take you unto himself forever, espousing you in faithfulness, and truth, and righteousness. Will you not eat of your own? "Oh! but," says one, "how can it be? I am a stranger." Yes, a stranger; but Jesus Christ loves the stranger. "A publican, a sinner;" but he is "the friend of publicans and sinners." "An outcast;" but he "gathereth together the outcasts of Israel." "A stray sheep;" but the shepherd "leaves the ninety and nine" to seek it. "A lost piece of money;" but he "sweeps the house" to find thee. "A prodigal son;" but he sets the bells a-ringing when he knows that thou wilt return. Come, Ruth! Come, trembling gleaner! Jesus invites thee; accept the invitation. "At meal-time come thou hither, and eat of the bread, and dip thy morsel in the vinegar." III. Now, thirdly--and here is a very sweet point in the narrative--BOAZ REACHED HER THE PARCHED CORN. She did "come and eat." Where did she sit? Note well that she "sat beside the reapers." She did not feel that she was one of them. Just like some of you who do not come to the Lord's Supper, but sit and look on. You are sitting "beside the reapers." You fear that you are not the people of God; still you love them, and therefore sit beside them. If there is a good thing to be had, and you cannot get it, you will sit as near as you can to those who _do_ get it. "She sat beside the reapers." And while she was sitting there, what happened? Did she stretch forth her hand and take the food herself? No, it is written, "HE reached her the parched corn." Ah! that is it. None but the Lord of the harvest can hand out the choicest refreshments of spiritual minds. I give the invitation in my Master's name, and I hope I give it earnestly, affectionately, sincerely; but I know very well that at my poor bidding none will come till the Spirit draws. No trembling heart will accept divine refreshing at my hand; unless the King himself comes near, and reaches the parched corn to each chosen guest, none will receive it. How does he do this? By his gracious Spirit, he first of all _inspires your faith_. You are afraid to think that it can be true that such a sinner as you are can ever be "accepted in the Beloved"; he breathes upon you, and your faint hope becomes an expectancy, and that expectation buds and blossoms into an appropriating faith, which says, "Yes, my beloved is _mine_, and his desire is toward _me_." Having done this, the Saviour does more; _he sheds abroad the love of God in your heart_. The love of Christ is like sweet perfume in a box. Now, he who put the perfume in the box is the only person that knows how to take off the lid. He, with his own skilful hand, opens the secret blessing, and sheds abroad the love of God in the soul. But Jesus does more than this; he reaches the parched corn with his own hand, when he _gives us close communion with himself_. Do not think that this is a dream; I tell you there is such a thing as speaking with Christ to-day. As certainly as I can talk with my dearest friend, or find solace in the company of my beloved wife, so surely may I speak with Jesus, and find intense delight in the company of Immanuel. It is not a fiction. We do not worship a far-off Saviour; he is a God nigh at hand. His word is in our mouth and in our heart, and we do to-day walk with him as the elect did of old, and commune with him as his apostles did on earth; not after the flesh, it is true, but after a real and spiritual fashion. Yet once more let me add, the Lord Jesus is pleased to reach the parched corn, in the best sense, when _the Spirit gives us the infallible witness within, that we are "born of God_." A man may know that he is a Christian beyond all question. Philip de Morny, who lived in the time of Prince Henry of Navarre, was wont to say that the Holy Spirit had made his own salvation to him as clear a point as a problem demonstrated in Euclid. You know with what mathematical precision the scholar of geometry solves a problem or proves a proposition, and with as absolute a precision, as certainly as twice two are four, we may "know that we have passed from death unto life." The sun in the heavens is not more clear to the eye than his present salvation to an assured believer; such a man could as soon doubt his own existence as suspect his possession of eternal life. Now let the prayer be breathed by poor Ruth, who is trembling yonder. Lord, reach me the parched corn! "Show me a token for good." "Deal bountifully with thy servant." "Draw me, we will run after thee." Lord, send thy love into my heart! "Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all thy quickening powers, Come, shed abroad a Saviour's love, And that shall kindle ours." There is no getting at Christ except by Christ revealing himself to us. IV. And now the last point. After Boaz had reached the parched corn, we are told that "SHE DID EAT, AND WAS SUFFICED, AND LEFT." So shall it be with every Ruth. Sooner or later every penitent shall become a believer, every mourner a singer. There may be a space of deep conviction, and a period of much hesitation; but there shall come a season when the soul decides for the Lord, and cries, "If I perish, I perish. I will go as I am to Jesus. I will not play the fool any longer with my _buts_ and _ifs_, but since he bids me believe that he died for me, I _will_ believe it, and will trust his cross for my salvation." Whenever you shall be privileged to do this, you shall be "_satisfied_." "She did eat, and was sufficed." Your _head_ shall be satisfied with the precious truth which Christ reveals; your _heart_ shall be content with Jesus, as the altogether lovely object of affection; your _hope_ shall be filled, for whom have you in heaven but Christ? Your _desire_ shall be satiated, for what can even your desire hunger for more than "to know Christ, and to be found in him." You shall find Jesus charm your _conscience_, till it is at perfect peace; he shall content your _judgment_, till you know the certainty of his teachings; he shall supply your _memory_ with recollections of what he did, and gratify your _imagination_ with the prospects of what he is yet to do. "She was sufficed, and left." Some of us have had deep draughts of love; we have thought that we could take in all of Christ, but when we have done our best, we have had to leave a vast remainder. We have sat down with a ravenous appetite at the table of the Lord's love, and said, "Nothing but the infinite can ever satisfy me," and that infinite has been granted us. I have felt that I am such a great sinner that nothing short of an infinite atonement could wash my sins away, and no doubt you have felt the same; but we have had our sin removed, and found merit enough and to spare in Jesus; we have had our hunger relieved, and found a redundance remaining for others who are in a similar case. There are certain sweet things in the Word of God which you and I have not enjoyed yet, and which we cannot enjoy yet; and these we are obliged to leave for a while, till we are better prepared to receive them. Did not our Lord say, "I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now"? There is a special knowledge to which we have not attained, a place of intimate fellowship with Christ which we have not yet occupied. There are heights of communion which as yet our feet have not climbed--virgin snows of the mountain of God untrodden by the foot of man. There is yet a beyond, and there will be for ever. A verse or two further on we are told what Ruth did with her leavings. It is very wrong, I believe, at feasts to carry anything home with you; but _she_ was not under any such regulation, for that which was left she took home and gave to Naomi. So it shall be even with you, poor tremblers, who think you have no right to a morsel for yourselves; you shall be allowed to eat, and when you are quite sufficed, you shall have courage to bear away a portion to others who are hungering at home. I am always pleased to find the young believer beginning to pocket something for others. When you hear a sermon you think, "My poor mother cannot get out to-day; how I wish she could have been here, for that sentence would have comforted _her_. If I forget everything else, I will tell her that." Cultivate an unselfish spirit. Seek to love as you have been loved. Remember that "the law and the prophets" are fulfilled in this, to love the Lord your God with all your heart, and your neighbor as yourself. How can you love your neighbor as yourself if you do not love his soul? You _have_ loved your own soul; through grace you have been led to lay hold on Jesus; love your neighbor's soul, and never be satisfied till you see him in the enjoyment of those things which are the charm of your life and the joy of our spirit. Take home your gleanings for those you love who cannot glean for themselves. I do not know how to give you an invitation to Christ more pleasantly, but I would with my whole heart cry, "Come and welcome to Jesus." I pray my Lord and Master to reach a handful of parched corn of comfort to you if you are a trembling sinner, and I also beg him to make you eat till you are fully sufficed. THE LOADED WAGON. "Behold, I am pressed under you, as a cart is pressed that is full of sheaves."--AMOS 2:13. WE have been into the cornfields to glean with Boaz and Ruth; and I trust that the timid and faint-hearted have been encouraged to partake of the handfuls which are let fall on purpose for them by the order of our generous Lord. We go to-day to the gate of the harvest-field with another object--to see the wagon piled up aloft with many sheaves come creaking forth, making ruts along the field. We come with gratitude to God, thanking him for the harvest, blessing him for favorable weather, and praying him to continue the same till the last shock of corn shall be brought in, and the husbandmen everywhere shall shout the "Harvest Home." What a picture is a wagon loaded with corn of you and of me, as loaded with God's mercies! From our cradle up till now, every day has added a sheaf of blessing. What could the Lord do for us more than he has done? He has daily loaded us with benefits. Let us adore his goodness, and yield him our cheerful gratitude. Alas! that such a sign should be capable of another reading. Alas! that while God loadeth us with mercy, we should load him with sin. While he continually heapeth on sheaf after sheaf of favor we also add iniquity unto iniquity, till the weight of our sin becomes intolerable to the Most High, and he cries out by reason of the burden, saying, "I am pressed under you, as a cart is pressed that is full of sheaves." Our text begins with a "_Behold!_" and well it may. "Beholds" are put in the Bible as signs are hung out from houses of business, to attract attention. There is something new, important, deeply impressive, or worthy of attention wherever we see a "Behold" in sacred Scripture. I see this "Behold!" standing, as it were, like a maiden upon the steps of the house of wisdom, crying, "Turn in hither, O ye that are wise-hearted, and listen to the voice of God." Let us open our eyes that we may "behold," and may the Spirit make a way through our eyes and ears to our hearts, that repentance and self-abhorrence may take hold upon us, because of our evil conduct towards our gracious God. It is to be understood before we proceed farther, that our text is only a figure, since God cannot actually be oppressed by man; all the sin that man may commit can never disturb the serenity of the divine perfection, nor cause so much as a wave upon his everlasting calm. He doth but speak to us after the manner of man, and bring down the sublimities and mysteries of heaven to the feebleness and ignorance of earth. He speaketh to us as a great father may talk to his little child. Just as a cart has the axles bent, and as the wheels creak under the excessive load, so the Lord says that under the load of human guilt he is pressed down, until he crieth out, because he can bear no longer the iniquity of those that offend against him. We shall now turn to our first point; may the Holy Ghost make it pointed to our consciences! The first and most apparent truth in the text is, that SIN IS VERY GRIEVOUS AND BURDENSOME TO GOD. Be astonished, O heavens, and be amazed, O earth, that God should speak of being pressed and weighed down! I do not read anywhere so much as half a suggestion that the whole burden of _creation_ is any weight to the Most High. "He taketh up the isles as a very little thing." Neither sun, nor moon, nor stars, nor all the ponderous orbs which his omnipotence has created, cost him any labor in their sustenance. The heathen picture Atlas as stooping beneath the globe; but the eternal God, who beareth up the pillars of the universe, "fainteth not, neither is weary." Nor do I find even the most distant approach to a suggestion that _providence_ fatigues its Lord. He watches both by night and day; his power goeth forth every moment. 'Tis he who bringeth forth Mazzaroth in his season and guideth Arcturus with his sons. He beareth up the foundations of the earth! and holdeth the cornerstone thereof. He causeth the dayspring to know its place, and setteth a bound to darkness and the shadow of death. All things are supported by the power of his hand, and there is nothing without him. Just as a moment's foam subsides into the wave that bears it and is lost for ever, so would the universe depart if the eternal God did not daily sustain it. This incessant working has not diminished his strength, nor is there any failing or thought of failing with him. He worketh all things, and when they are wrought they are as nothing in his sight. But strange, most passing strange, miraculous among miracles, _sin_ burdens God, though the world cannot; and iniquity presses the Most High, though the whole weight of providence is as the small dust of the balance. Ah, ye careless sons of Adam, ye think sin a trifle; and as for you, ye sons of Belial, ye count it sport, and say, "He regardeth not; he seeth not; how doth God know? and if he knoweth he careth not for our sins." Learn ye from the Book of God, that so far from this being the truth, your sins are a grief to him, a burden and a load to him, till, like a cart that is overloaded with sheaves, so is he weighed down with human guilt. This will be very clear if we meditate for a moment upon what sin is, and what sin does. _Sin is the great spoiler of all God's works._ Sin turned an archangel into an archfiend, and angels of light into spirits of evil. Sin looked on Eden and withered all its flowers. Ere sin had come the Creator said of the new-made earth, "It is very good"; but when sin had entered, it grieved God at his very heart that he had made such a creature as man. Nothing tarnishes beauty so much as sin, for it mars God's image and erases his superscription. Moreover, _sin makes God's creatures unhappy_, and shall not the Lord, therefore, abhor it? God never designed that any creature of his hand should be miserable. He made the creatures on purpose that they should be glad; he gave the birds their song, the flowers their perfume, the air its balm; he gave to day the smiling sun and to night its coronet of stars; for he intended that smiles should be his perpetual worship, and joy the incense of his praise. But sin has made God's favorite creature a wretch, and brought down God's offspring, made in his own image, to become naked, and poor, and miserable; and therefore God hateth sin, and is pressed down under it, because it maketh the objects of his love unhappy at their heart. Moreover, remember that _sin attacks God in all his attributes_, assails him on his throne, and stabs at his existence. What is sin? Is it not an insult to God's _wisdom_? O sinner, God biddeth thee do his will; when thou doest the contrary it is because thou dost as much as say, "I know what is good for me, and God does not know." You do in effect declare that infinite wisdom is in error, and that you, the creature of a day, are the best judge of happiness. Sin impugns God's _goodness_; for by sin you declare that God has denied you that which would make you happy, and this is not the part of a good, tender, and loving Father. Sin cuts at the Lord's wisdom with one hand, and at his goodness with the other. Sin also abuses the _mercy_ of God. When you, as many of you have done, sin with the higher hand because of his long-suffering toward you; when, because you have no sickness, no losses, no crosses, therefore you spend your time in revelry and obstinate rebellion--what is this but taking the mercy which was meant for your good and turning it into mischief? It is no small grief to the loving father to see his substance spent with harlots in riotous living; he cannot endure it that his child should be so degraded as to turn even the mercy which would woo him to repentance into a reason why he should sin the more against him. Besides, let me remind the careless and impenitent that every sin is a defiance of divine _power_. In effect it is lifting your puny fists against the majesty of heaven, and defying God to destroy you. Every time you sin, you defy the Lord to prove whether he can maintain his law or no. Is this a slight thing, that a worm, the creature of a day, should defy the Lord of ages, the God that filleth and upholdeth all things by the word of his power? Well may he be weary, when he has to bear with such provocations and insults as those! Mention what attribute you will, and sin has blotted it; speak of God in any relationship you choose, and sin has cast a slur upon him. It is evil, only evil, and that continually; in every view of it must be offensive to the Most High. Sinner, dost thou know that every act of disobedience to God's law is virtually an act of _high treason_? What dost thou do but seek to be God thyself, thine own master, thine own lord? Every time thou swervest from his will, it is to put thy will into his place; it is to make thyself a god, and to undeify the Most High. And is this a little offence, to snatch from his brow the crown, and from his hand the sceptre? I tell thee it is such an act that heaven itself could not stand unless it were resented; if this crime were suffered to go unpunished, the wheels of heaven's commonwealth would be taken from their axles, and the whole frame of moral government would be unhinged. Such a treason against God shall certainly be visited with punishment. To crown all, _sin is an onslaught upon God himself_, for sin is atheism of heart. Let his religious profession be what it may, the sinner hath said in his heart, "No God." He wishes that there were no law and no Supreme Ruler. Is this a trifle? To be a Deicide! To desire to put God out of his own world! Is this a thing to be winked at? Can the Most High hear it and not be pressed down beneath its weight? I pray you do not think that I would make a needless outcry against sin and disobedience. It is not in the power of human imagination to exaggerate the evil of sin, nor will it ever be possible for mortal lips, though they should be touched like those of Esaias with a live coal from off the altar, to thunder out the ten-thousandth part of the enormity of the least sin against God. Think, dear friends! We are his creatures, and yet we will not do his will. We are fed by him, the breath in our nostrils he gives us, and yet we spend that breath in murmuring and rebellion. Once more, we are always in the sight of our omniscient God, and yet the presence of God is not enough to compel us to obedience. Surely if a man should insult law in the very presence of the lawgiver, that were not to be borne with; but this is your case and mine. We must confess, "Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight." We must remember also, that we offend, knowing that we are offending. We do not sin as the Hottentot, or the cannibal. We in England sin against extraordinary light and sevenfold knowledge; and is this a light thing? Can you expect that God shall pass by wilful and deliberate offences? Oh, that these lips had language, that this heart could burn for once! for if I could declare the horrible infamy of sin it would make the blood chill in even a haughty Pharaoh's veins, and proud Nebuchadnezzar would bow his head in fear. It is indeed a terrible thing to have rebelled against the Most High. The Lord have mercy upon his servants and forgive them. This is our first point, but _I_ cannot teach you it, God himself must teach it by his Spirit. Oh, that the Holy Ghost may make you feel that sin is exceedingly sinful, so that it is grievous and burdensome to God! Secondly, SOME SINS ARE MORE ESPECIALLY GRIEVOUS TO GOD. The connection of our text will help you to see the force of this observation. There is no such thing as a little sin, but still there are degrees of guilt, and it were folly to say that a sinful thought hath in it the same extent of evil as a sinful act. A filthy imagination is sinful--wholly sinful and greatly sinful, but still a filthy act has attained a higher degree of provocation. There are sins which especially provoke God. In the connection of the text we read that _licentiousness_ does this. The Jewish people in the days of Amos seem to have gone to a very high degree of fornication and lechery. This sin is not uncommon in our day; let our midnight streets and our divorce courts be the witness. I say no more. Let each one keep his body pure; for want of chastity is a grievous evil before the Lord. _Oppression_, too, according to the prophet, is another great provocation to God. The prophet speaks of selling the poor for a pair of shoes; and some would grind the widow and the orphan, and make the laborer toil for nought. How many business men have no "bowels of compassion." Men form themselves into societies, and then exact an outrageous usury upon loans from the unhappy beings who fall into their hands. Cunning legal quibbles and crafty evasions of just debts often amount to heavy oppression, and are sure to bring down the anger of the Most High. Then, again, it seems that _idolatry_ and _blasphemy_ are highly offensive to God, and have a high degree of heinousness. He says that the people drank the wine of false gods. If any man sets up his belly, or his gold, or his wealth as his god, and if he lives to these instead of living to the Most High, he hath offended by idolatry. Woe to such, and equal woe to those who adore crosses, sacraments, or images. Specially is _blasphemy_ a God-provoking sin. For blasphemy there is no excuse. As George Herbert says, "Lust and wine plead a pleasure;" there is gain to be pleaded for avarice, "but the cheap swearer from his open sluice lets his soul run for nought." There is nothing gained by profane talk; there can be no pleasure in cursing; this is offending for offending's sake, and hence it is a high and crying sin, which makes the Lord grow weary of men. There may be some among you to whom these words may be personal accusations. Do I address the lecherous, or the oppressive, or the profane? Ah, soul, what a mercy God hath borne with thee so long; the time will come, however, when he will say, "Ah, I will ease me of mine adversaries," and how easily will he cast you off and appoint you an awful destruction. Again, while some sins are thus grievous to God for their peculiar heinousness, many men are especially obnoxious to God because of the _length_ of their sin. That gray-headed man, how many times has he provoked the Most High! Why, those who are but lads have cause to count their years and apply their hearts unto wisdom because of the length of time they have lived in rebellion; but what shall I say of you who have been half a century in open war against God--and some of you sixty, seventy, what if I said near upon eighty years? Ah, you have had eighty years of mercies, and returned eighty years of neglect: for eighty years of patience you have rendered eighty years of ingratitude. O God, well mayest thou be wearied by the length and number of man's sins! Furthermore, God taketh special note and feeleth an especial weariness of sin that is mixed with _obstinacy_. Oh how obstinate some men are! They _will_ be damned; there is no helping them; they seem as if they would leap the Alps to reach perdition, and swim through seas of fire that they may destroy their souls. I might tell you cases of men that have been sore sick of fever, ague, and cholera, and they have only recovered their health to return to their sins. Some of them have had troubles in business, thick and threefold: they were once in respectable circumstances, but they spent their living riotously, and they became poor; yet they still struggle on in sin. They are growing poorer every day, most of their clothes have gone to the pawnshop; but they will not turn from the tavern and the brothel. Another child is dead! The wife is sick, and starvation stares the family in the face; but they go on still with a high hand and an outstretched arm. This is obstinacy, indeed. Sinner! God will let thee have thine own way one of these days, and that way will be thine everlasting ruin. God is weary of those who set themselves to do mischief, and, against warnings, and invitations, and entreaties, are determined to go on in sin. The context seems to tell us that _ingratitude_ is intensely burdensome to God. He tells the people how he brought them out of Egypt; how he cast out the Amorites; how he raised up their sons for prophets, and their young men for Nazarites; and yet they rebelled against him! This was one of the things that pricked my heart when I first came to God as a guilty sinner, not so much the peculiar heinousness of my outward life, as the peculiar mercies that I had enjoyed. How generous God has been to some of us--some of us who never had a want! God has never cast us into poverty, nor left us to infamy, nor given us up to evil example, but he has kept us moral, and made us love his house even when we did not love _him_, and all this he has done year after year: and what poor returns we have made! To us, his people, what joy he has given, what deliverances, what love, what comfort, what bliss--and yet we have sinned to his face! Well may he be as a cart that is pressed down, that is full of sheaves. Let me observe, before I leave this point, that it seems from our text, that the Lord is so pressed, that _he even crieth out_. Just as the cart when laden with the sheaves, groaneth under the weight, so the Lord crieth out under the load of sin. Have you never heard those accents? "Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth: for the Lord hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me!" Hear again: "Turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die, O house of Israel?" Better still, hear the lament from the lip of Jesus, soft and gentle as the dew--"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!" Sinner, God is cut to the heart by thy sin; thy Creator grieves over that which thou laughest at; thy Saviour crieth out in his spirit concerning that which thou thinkest to be a trifle--"O do not this abominable thing which I hate!" For God's sake do it not! We often say "for God's sake," without knowing what we mean; but here see what it means, for the sake of God, that ye grieve not your Creator, that ye cause not the Eternal One himself to cry out by reason of weariness of you. Cease ye, cease ye, from your evil ways; for why will ye die, O house of Israel? I now leave those two points to pass on very briefly to the next. While it is true that sin is grievous to the Lord, it magnifies his mercy when we see that HE BEARS THE LOAD. As the cart is not said to break, but is pressed only, so is he pressed, and yet he bears. If you and I were in God's place, should we have borne it? Nay, within a week we should have burned the universe with fire, or trodden it to powder beneath our feet. If the Law of heaven were as swift to punish as the law of man, where were we? How easily could he avenge his honor! How many servants wait around him ready to do his bidding! As the Roman consul went out, attended by his lictors carrying the axe, so God is ever attended by his executioners, who are ready to fulfil his sentence. A stone, a tile from a roof, a thunderbolt, a puff of wind, a grain of dust, a whiff of gas, a broken blood-vessel, and all is over, and you are dead, and in the hands of an angry God. Indeed, the Lord has to restrain the servants of his anger, for the heavens cry, "Why should we cover that wretch's head?" Earth asks, "Why should I yield at harvest to the sinner's plough?" The lightnings thunder, and say, "Let us smite the rebel," and the seas roar upon the sinner, desiring him as their prey. There is no greater proof of the omnipotence of God than his long-suffering; for it shows the greatest possible power for God to be able to control himself. Sinner, yet Jehovah bears with thee. The angels have been astonished at it; they thought he would strike, but yet he bears with you. Have you ever seen a patient man insulted? He has been met in the street by a villain, who insults him before a mob of boys. He bears it. The fellow spits in his face. He bears it still. The offender strikes him. He endures it quietly. "Give him in charge," says one. "No," says he, "I forgive him all." The fellow knocks him down, and rolls him in the kennel, but he bears it still; yes, and when he rises all covered with mire, he says, "If there be anything that I can do to befriend you, I will do it now." Just at that moment the wretch is arrested by a sheriff's officer for debt; the man who has been insulted takes out his purse and pays the debt, and says, "You may go free." See, the wretch spits in his face after that! "Now," you say, "let the law have its way with him." Is there any room for patience now? So would it have been with man; it has not been so with God. Though like the cart he is pressed under the load of sheaves, yet like the cart the axle does not break. He bears the load. He bears with impenitent sinners still. And this brings me to the fourth head, on which I would have your deepest attention. Some of you, I fear, have never seen sin in the light of grieving God, or else you would not wish to grieve him any more. On the other hand some of you feel how bitter a thing evil is, and you wish to be rid of it. This is our fourth head. Not only doth God still bear with sin, but GOD, IN THE PERSON OF HIS SON, DID BEAR AND TAKE AWAY SIN. These words would have deep meaning if put into the lips of Jesus--"I am pressed under you, as a cart is pressed that is full of sheaves." Here stood the great problem. God must punish sin, and yet he desired to have mercy. How could it be? Lo! Jesus comes to be the substitute for all who trust him. The load of guilt is laid upon his shoulders. See how they pile on him the sheaves of human sin! "My soul looks back to see The burdens thou didst bear, When hanging on the cursed tree, And hopes her guilt was there." "The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." There they lie, sheaf on sheaf, till he is pressed down like the wain that groaneth as it moves along. "He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." See him, he did "sweat as it were great drops of blood falling to the ground." Herod mocks him. Pilate jeers him. They have smitten the Prince of Judah upon the cheek. "I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my face from shame and spitting." They have tied him to the pillar; they are beating him with rods, not this time forty stripes _save one_, for there is no "save one" with him. "The chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed." See him; like a cart pressed down with sheaves traversing the streets of Jerusalem. Well may ye weep, ye daughters of Jerusalem, though he bids ye dry your tears! Abjects hoot at him as he walks along bowed beneath the load of his own cross, which was the emblem of our sin. They bring him to Golgotha. They throw him on his back, they stretch out his hands and his feet. The accursed iron penetrates the tenderest part of his body, where most the nerves do congregate. They lift up the cross. O bleeding Saviour, thy time of woe is come! They dash it into the socket with cruel force, the nails are tearing through his hands and feet. He hangeth in extremity, for God hath forsaken him; his enemies persecute and take him, for there is none to deliver him. They mock his nakedness; they point at his agonies. They look and stare upon him. With ribald jests they insult his griefs. They make puns upon his prayers. He is now indeed a worm, and no man, crushed till you can scarcely think that divinity dwells within him. Fever parches him; his tongue is dried up like a potsherd, and he cries, "I thirst!" Vinegar is all they yield him. The sun refuses to shine, and the dense midnight of that awful mid-day is a fitting emblem of the tenfold darkness of his soul. Out of that all-encompassing horror he crieth, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Then, indeed, was he pressed down! There was never sorrow like unto his sorrow. All mortal griefs found a reservoir in his heart, and the punishment of human guilt spent itself upon his body and his soul. Shall sin ever be a trifle to me? Shall I laugh at that which made my Saviour groan? Shall I toy and dally with that which stabbed him to the heart? Sinner, wilt thou not give up thy sins for the sake of him who suffered for sin? "Yes," sayest thou, "yes, if I could believe that he suffered for my sake." Wilt thou trust thy soul in his hands at once? Dost thou do so? Then he died _for thee_ and took _thy_ guilt, and carried all _thy_ sorrows, and thou mayest go free, for God is satisfied, and thou art absolved. Christ was burdened that thou mightest be lightened; he was pressed that thou mightest be free. I would I could talk of my precious Master as John would speak, who saw him and bare witness, for he could tell in plaintive tones of the sorrows of Calvary. Such as I have I give you; oh that God would give you with it the power, the grace to believe on Jesus at once. V. For if not, and here is our last point, God will only bear the load of our provocation for a little while; and if we are not in Christ when the end shall come, THAT SAME LOAD WILL CRUSH US FOREVER. My text is translated by many learned men in a different way from the version before us. According to them it should be read, "I will press you as a cart that is full of sheaves presseth your place." That is, just as a heavy loaded wagon pressed into the soft eastern roads and left deep furrows, so will I crush you, saith God, beneath the load of your sin. This is to be your doom, my hearer, if you are out of Christ: your own deeds are to press upon you. Need we enlarge upon this terror? I think not. It only needs that you should make a personal application of the threatening! Divide yourselves now. Divide yourselves, I say! Answer each one for himself--Dost thou believe on the Lord Jesus Christ? then the threatening is not thine. But if thou believest not I conjure thee listen to me now as if thou wert the only person here. A Christless soul will ere long be a castaway; he that believeth not in Christ is condemned already, because he believeth not. How wilt thou escape if thou wilt neglect so great salvation? Thus saith the Lord unto thee, "Consider thy ways." By time, by eternity, by life, by death, by heaven, by hell, I do conjure thee believe in him who is able to save unto the uttermost them that come unto him; but if thou believest not in Christ thou shalt die in thy sins. After death the judgment! Oh! the judgment, the thundering trumpet, the multitude, the books, the great white throne, the "Come, ye blessed," the "Depart, ye cursed!" After judgment, to a soul that is out of Christ, Hell! Who among us? who _among us_ shall abide with the devouring flame? Who among US? Who among US shall dwell with everlasting burnings? I pray that none of us may. But we _must_ unless we fly to Christ. I beseech thee, my dear hearer, fly to Jesus! I may never see thy face again; thine eyes may never look into mine again; but I shake my skirts of thy blood if thou believest not in Christ. My tears entreat thee; let his long-suffering lead thee to repentance. He willeth not the death of any, but that they should turn unto him and live: and this turning lies mainly in trusting Jesus with your soul. Wilt thou believe in Christ? Nay, I know thou wilt not unless the Spirit of God shall constrain thee; but if thou wilt not, it shall not be for want of pleading and entreating. Come, 'tis mercy's welcome hour. I pray thee, come. Jesus with pierced hands invites thee, though thou hast long rejected him. He knocks again. His unconquerable love defies thy wickedness. He begs thee to be saved. Sinner, wilt thou have him or no? "Whosoever will, let him come and take of the water of life freely." God help you to come, for the glorious Redeemer's sake. Amen. THRESHING. "For the fitches are not threshed with a threshing instrument, neither is a cart wheel turned about upon the cummin; but the fitches are beaten out with a staff, and the cummin with a rod. Bread corn is bruised; because he will not ever be threshing it, nor break it with the wheel of his cart, nor bruise it with his horsemen."--ISAIAH 28:27, 28. THE art of husbandry was taught to man by God. He would have starved while he was discovering it, and so the Lord, when he sent him out of the Garden of Eden, gave him a measure of elementary instruction in agriculture, even as the prophet puts it--"His God doth instruct him to discretion, and doth teach him." God has taught man to plough, to break the clods, to sow the different kinds of grain, and to thresh out the different sorts of seeds. The Eastern husbandman could not thresh by machinery as we do; but still he was ingenious and discreet in that operation. Sometimes a heavy instrument was dragged over the corn to tear out the grain. This is what is intended in the first clause by the "threshing instrument," as also in that passage, "I have made thee a sharp threshing instrument having teeth." When the corn-drag was not used, they often turned the heavy solid wheel of a country cart over the straw. This is alluded to in the next sentence: "Neither is a cart wheel turned about upon the cummin." They had also flails not very unlike our own, and then for still smaller seeds, such as dill and cummin, they used a simple staff, or a slender switch. "The fitches are beaten out with a staff, and the cummin with a rod." This is not the time or place to give a dissertation upon threshing. We find every information upon that subject in proper books; but the meaning of the illustration is this--that as God has taught husbandmen to distinguish between different kinds of grain in the threshing, so does he in his infinite wisdom deal discreetly with different sorts of men. He does not try us all alike, seeing we are differently constituted. He does not pass us all through the same agony of conviction: we are not all to the same extent threshed with terrors. He does not give us all to endure the same family or bodily affliction; one escapes with only being beaten with a rod, while another feels, as it were, the feet of horses in his heavy tribulations. Our subject is just this. _Threshing_: all kinds of seeds need it, _all sorts of men need it_. Secondly, _the threshing is done with discretion_, and, thirdly, _the threshing will not last forever_; for so the second verse of the text says: "Bread corn is bruised; because he will not ever be threshing it, nor break it with the wheel of his cart, nor bruise it with his horseman." I. First, then, WE ALL NEED THRESHING. Some have a foolish conceit of themselves that they have no sin; but they deceive themselves, and the truth is not in them. The best of men are men at the best; and being men, they are not perfect, but are still compassed about with infirmity. What is the object of threshing the grain? Is it not to separate it from the straw and the chaff? _About the best of men there is still a measure of chaff._ All is not grain that lies upon the threshing-floor. All is not grain even in those golden sheaves which have been brought into our garner so joyfully. Even the wheat is joined to the straw, which was necessary to it at one time. About the kernel of the wheat the husk is wrapped, and this still clings to it even when it lies upon the threshing-floor. About the holiest of men there is something superfluous, something which must be removed. We either sin by omission or by trespass. Either in spirit, or motive, or lack of zeal, or want of discretion, we are faulty. If we escape one error, we usually glide into its opposite. If before an action we are right, we err in the doing of it, or, if not, we become proud after it is over. If sin be shut out at the front door, it tries the back gate, or climbs in at the window, or comes down the chimney. Those who cannot perceive it in themselves are frequently blinded by its smoke. They are so thoroughly in the water that they do not know that it rains. So far as my own observation goes I have found out no man whom the old divines would have called perfectly perfect; the absolutely all-round man is a being whom I expect to see in heaven, but not in this poor fallen world. We all need such cleansing and purging as the threshing-floor is intended to work for us. Now, _threshing is useful in loosening the connection between the good corn and the husk_. Of course, if it would slip out easily from its husk, the corn would only need to be shaken. There would be no necessity for a staff or a rod, much less for the feet of horses, or the wheel of a cart to separate it. But there's the rub: our soul not only lieth in the dust, but "cleaveth" to it. There is a fearful intimacy between fallen human nature and the evil which is in the world; and this compact is not soon broken. In our hearts we hate every false way, and yet we sorrowfully confess, "When I would do good, evil is present with me." Sometimes when our spirit cries out most ardently after God, a holy will is present with us, but how to perform that which is good we find not. Flesh and blood have tendencies and weaknesses which, if not sinful in themselves, yet tend in that direction. Appetites need but slight excitement to germinate into lusts. It is not easy for us to forget our own kindred and our father's house even when the king doth most greatly desire our beauty. Our alien nature remembers Egypt and the flesh-pots while yet the manna is in our mouths. We were all born in the house of evil, and some of us were nursed upon the lap of iniquity, so that our first companionships were among the heirs of wrath. That which was bred in the bone is hard to get out of the flesh. Threshing is used to loosen our hold of earthly things and break us away from evil. This needs a divine hand, and nothing but the grace of God can make the threshing effectual. Something is done by threshing when the soul ceases to be bound up with its sin, and sin is no longer pleasurable or satisfactory. Still, as the work of threshing is never done till the corn is separated altogether from the husk, so chastening and discipline have never accomplished their design till God's people give up every form of evil, and abhor all iniquity. When we shake right out of the straw, and have nothing further to do with sin, then the flail will lie quiet. It has taken a good deal of threshing to bring some of us anywhere near that mark, and I am afraid many more heavy blows will be struck before we shall reach the total separation. From a certain sort of sins we are very easily separated by the grace of God early in our spiritual life; but when those are gone, another layer of evils comes into sight, and the work has to be repeated. The complete removal of our connection with sin is a work demanding the divine skill and power of the Holy Ghost, and by him only will it be accomplished. Threshing becomes needful for the sake of our usefulness; for the wheat must come out of the husk to be of service. We can only honor God and bless men by being holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners. O corn of the Lord's threshing-floor, thou must be beaten and bruised, or perish as a worthless heap! Eminent usefulness usually necessitates eminent affliction. Unless thus severed from sin, we cannot be gathered into the garner. God's pure wheat must not be defiled by an admixture of chaff. There shall in nowise enter into heaven anything that defileth, therefore every sort of imperfection must come away from us by some means or other ere we can enter into the state of eternal blessedness and perfection. Yea, even here we cannot have true fellowship with the Father unless we are daily delivered from sin. Peradventure some of us to-day are lying up on the threshing-floor, suffering from the blows of chastisement. What then? Why, let us rejoice therein; for _this testifies to our value in the sight of God_. If the wheat were to cry out and say, "The great drag has gone over me, therefore the husbandman has no care for me," we should instantly reply--The husbandman does not pass the corn-drag over the darnel or the nettles; it is only over the precious wheat that he turns the wheel of his cart, or the feet of his oxen. Because he esteems the wheat, therefore he deals sternly with it and spares it not. Judge not, O believer, that God hates you because he afflicts you; but interpret truly and see that he honors you by every stroke which he lays upon you. Thus saith the Lord, "You only have I known of all the nations of the earth, therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities." Because a full atonement has been made by the Lord Jesus for all his people's sins, therefore he will not punish us as a judge; but because we are his dear children, therefore he will chastise us as a father. In love he corrects his own children that he may perfect them in his own image, and make them partakers of his holiness. Is it not written, "I will bring them under the rod of the covenant"? Has he not said, "I have refined thee, but not with silver, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction"? Therefore do not judge according to the sight of the eyes or the feeling of the flesh, but judge according to faith, and understand that, as threshing is a testimony to the value of the wheat, so affliction is a token of God's delight in his people. Remember, however, that as threshing is a sign of the impurity of the wheat, so is _affliction an indication of the present imperfection of the Christian_. If you were no more connected with evil, you would be no more corrected with sorrow. The sound of a flail is never heard in heaven, for it is not the threshing-floor of the imperfect but the garner of the completely sanctified. The threshing instrument is therefore a humbling token, and so long as we feel it we should humble ourselves under the hand of God, for it is clear that we are not yet free from the straw and the chaff of fallen nature. On the other hand, the instrument is _a prophecy of our future perfection_. We are undergoing from the hand of God a discipline which will not fail: we shall by his prudence and wisdom be clean delivered from the husk of sin. We are feeling the blows of the staff, but we are being effectually separated from the evil which has so long surrounded us, and for certain we shall one day be pure and perfect. Every tendency to sin shall be beaten off. "Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him." If, we being evil, yet succeed with our children by our poor, imperfect chastening, how much more shall the Father of spirits cause us to live unto himself by his holy discipline? If the corn could know the necessary uses of the flail, it would invite the thresher to his work; and since we know whereunto tribulation tendeth, let us glory in it, and yield ourselves with cheerfulness to its processes. We need threshing, the threshing proves our value in God's sight, and while it marks our imperfection, it secures our ultimate cleansing. II. Secondly, I would remark that GOD'S THRESHING IS DONE WITH GREAT DISCRETION; "for the fitches are not threshed with a threshing instrument." The poor little fitches, a kind of small seed used for flavoring cakes, were not crushed out with a heavy drag, for by such rough usage they would have been broken up and spoiled. "Neither is a cart wheel turned about upon the cummin;" this little seed, perhaps the carraway, would have been ground by so great a weight; it would have been preposterous to treat it in that rough manner. The fitches were soon removed from the stalks by being "beaten out with a staff," and the cummin needed nothing but a touch of a rod. For tender seeds the farmer uses gentle means, and for the hardier grains he reserves the sterner processes. Let us think of this, as it conveys a valuable spiritual lesson. Reflect, my brother, that your threshing and mine _are in God's hands_. Our chastening is not left to servants, much less to enemies; "we are chastened of the Lord!" The Great Husbandman himself personally bids the laborers do this and that, for they know not the time or the way except as divine wisdom shall direct; they would turn the wheel upon the cummin, or attempt to thresh wheat with a staff. I have seen God's servants trying both these follies; they have crushed the weak and tender, and they have dealt with partiality and softness with those who needed to be sternly rebuked. How roughly some ministers, some elders, some good men and women will go to work with timid, tender souls; yet we need not fear that they will destroy the true-hearted, for, however much they may vex them the Lord will not leave his chosen in their hands, but will overrule their mistaken severity, and preserve his own from being destroyed thereby. How glad I am of this; for there are many nowadays who would grind the tender ones to powder if they could! As the Lord has not left us in the power of man, so also he has not left us in the power of the devil. Satan may sift us as wheat, but he shall not thresh us as fitches. He may blow away the chaff from us even with his foul breath, but he shall not have the management of the Lord's corn: "the Lord preserveth the righteous." Not a stroke in providence is left to chance; the Lord ordains it, and arranges the time, the force, and the place of it. The divine decree leaves nothing uncertain; the jurisdiction of supreme love occupies itself with the smallest events of our daily lives. Whether we bear the teeth of the corn-drag or men do ride over our heads, or we endure the gentler touches of the divine hand, everything is by appointment, and the appointment is fixed by infallible wisdom. Let this be a mine of comfort to the afflicted. Next, remark that _the instruments used for our threshing are chosen also by the Great Husbandman_. The Eastern farmer, according to the text, has several instruments, and so has our God. No form of threshing is pleasant to the seed which bears it; indeed, each one seems to the sufferer to be peculiarly objectionable. We say, "I think I could bear anything but this sad trouble." We cry, "It was not an enemy, then I could have borne it," and so on. Perhaps the tender cummin foolishly fancies that the horse-hoofs would be a less terrible ordeal than the rod, and the fitches might even prefer the wheel to the staff; but happily the matter is left to the choice of One who judges unerringly. What dost thou know about it, poor sufferer? How canst thou judge of what is good for thee? "Ah!" cries a mother, "I would not mind poverty; but to lose my darling child is too terrible!" Another laments, "I could have parted with all my wealth, but to be slandered cuts me to the quick." There is no pleasing us in the matter of chastisement. When I was at school, with my uncle for master, it often happened that he would send me out to find a cane for him. It was not a very pleasant task, and I noticed that I never once succeeded in selecting a stick which was liked by the boy who had to feel it. Either it was too thin, or too stout; and in consequence I was threatened by the sufferers with condign punishment if I did not do better next time. I learned from that experience never to expect God's children to like the particular rod with which they are chastened. You smile at my simile, but you may smile at yourself when you find yourself crying, "Any trouble but this, Lord. Any affliction but this." How idle it is to expect a pleasant trial; for it would then be no trial at all. Almost every really useful medicine is unpleasant: almost all effectual surgery is painful! no trial for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous, yet it is the right trial, and none the less right because it is bitter. Notice, too, that God not only selects the instruments, _but he chooses the place_. Farmers in the East have large threshing-floors upon which they throw the sheaves of corn or barley, and upon these they turn horses and drags; but near the house door I have often noticed in Italy a much smaller circle of hardened clay or cement, and here I have seen the peasants beating out their garden seeds in a more careful manner than would naturally be used toward the greater heaps upon the larger area. Some saints are not afflicted in the common affairs of life, but they have peculiar sorrow in their innermost spirits; they are beaten on the smaller and more private threshing-floor; but the process is none the less effectual. How foolish are we when we rebel against our Lord's appointment, and speak as if we had a right to choose our own afflictions! "Should it be according to thy mind?" Should a child select the rod? Should the grain appoint its own thresher? Are not these things to be left to a higher wisdom? Some complain of the time of their trial; it is hard to be crippled in youth, or to be poor in age, or to be widowed when your children are young. Yet in all this there is wisdom. A part of the skill of the physician may lie, not only in writing a prescription, but in arranging the hours at which the medicine shall be taken. One draught may be most useful in the morning, and another may be more beneficial in the evening; and so the Lord knows when it is best for us to drink of the cup which he has prepared for us. I know a dear child of God who is enduring a severe trial in his old age, and I would fain screen him from it because of his feebleness, but our heavenly Father knows best, and there we must leave it. The instrument of the threshing, the place, the measure, the time, the end, are all appointed by infallible love. It is interesting to notice in the text the limit of this threshing. The husbandman is zealous to beat out the seed, but he is careful not to break it in pieces by too severe a process. His wheel is not to grind, but to thresh; the horses' feet are not to break, but to separate. He intends to get the cummin out of its husk, but he will not turn a heavy drag upon it utterly to smash it up and destroy it. In the same way the Lord has a measure in all his chastening. Courage, tried friend, you shall be afflicted as you need, but not as you deserve; tribulation shall come as you are able to bear it. As is the strength such shall the affliction be; the wheat may feel the wheel, but the fitches shall bear nothing heavier than a staff. No saint shall be tempted beyond the proper measure, and the limit is fixed by a tenderness which never deals a needless stroke. It is very easy to talk like this in cool blood, and quite another thing to remember it when the flail is hammering you; yet have I personally realized this truth upon the bed of pain, and in the furnace of mental distress. I thank God at every remembrance of my afflictions; I did not doubt his wisdom then, nor have I had any reason to question it since. Our Great Husbandman understands how to divide us from the husk, and he goes about his work in a way for which he deserves to be adored for ever. It is a pleasant thought that God's limit is one beyond which trials never go-- "If trials six be fix'd for men They shall not suffer seven. If God appoint afflictions ten They ne'er can be eleven." The old law ordained forty stripes save one, and in all our scourgings there always comes in that "save one." When the Lord multiplies our sorrows up to a hundred, it is because ninety-and-nine failed to effect his purpose; but all the powers of earth and hell cannot give us one blow above the settled number. We shall never endure a superfluity of threshing. The Lord never sports with the feelings of his saints. "He does not afflict willingly," and so we may be sure he never gives an unnecessary blow. The wisdom of the husbandman in limiting his threshing is far exceeded in the wisdom of God by which he sets a limit to our griefs. Some escape with little trouble, and perhaps it is because they are frail and sensitive. The little garden seeds must not be beaten too heavily lest they be injured; those saints who bear about with them a delicate body must not be roughly handled, nor shall they be. Possibly they have a feeble mind also, and that which others would laugh at would be death to them; they shall be kept as the apple of the eye. If you are free from tribulation never ask for it; that would be a great folly. I did meet with a brother a little while ago who said that he was much perplexed because he had no trouble. I said, "Do not worry about _that_; but be happy while you may." Only a queer child would beg to be flogged. Certain sweet and shining saints are of such a gentle spirit that the Lord does not expose them to the same treatment as he metes out to others; they do not need it, and they could not bear it; why should they wish for it? Others, again, are very heavily pressed; but what of that if they are a superior grain, a seed of larger usefulness, intended for higher purposes? Let not such regret that they have to endure a heavier threshing since their use is greater. It is the bread corn that must go under the feet of the horseman and must feel the wheel of the cart; and so the most useful have to pass through the sternest processes. There is not one among us but what would say, "I could wish that I were Martin Luther, or that I could play as noble a part as he did." Yes; but in addition to the outward perils of his life, the inward experiences of that remarkable man were such as none of us would wish to feel. He was frequently tormented with Satanic temptations, and driven to the verge of despair. At one hour he rode the whirlwind and the storm, master of all the world, and then after days of fighting with the pope and the devil he would go home to his bed and lie there broken-down and trembling. You see God's heroes only in the pulpit, or in other public places, you know not what they are before God in secret. You do not know their inner life; else you might discover that the bread corn is bruised, and that those who are most useful in comforting others have to endure frequent sorrow themselves. Envy no man; for you do not know how he may have to be threshed to make him right and keep him so. Brethren, we see that our God uses discretion in the chastisement of his people; let us use a loving prudence when we have to deal with others in that way. Be gentle as well as firm with your children; and if you have to rebuke your brother do it very tenderly. Do not drive your horses over the tender seed. Recollect that the cummin is beaten out with a staff and not crushed out with a wheel. Take a very light rod. Perhaps it would be as well if you had no rod at all, but left that work to wiser hands. Go you and sow and leave your elders to thresh. Next let us firmly believe in God's discretion, and be sure that he is doing the right thing by us. Let us not be anxious to be screened from affliction. When we ask that the cup may pass from us let it be with a "nevertheless not as I will." Best of all, let us freely part with our chaff. The likeliest way to escape the flail is to separate from the husk as quickly as possible. "Come ye out from among them." Separate yourselves from sin and sinners, from the world and worldliness, and the process of threshing will all the sooner be completed. God make us wise in this matter! III. A word or two is all we can afford upon the third head, which is that THE THRESHING WILL NOT LAST FOREVER. The threshing will not last all our days even here: "Bread corn is bruised, but he will not always be threshing it." Oh, no. "For a small moment have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I gather thee." "He will not always chide, neither will he keep his anger for ever." "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." Rejoice, ye daughters of sorrow! Be comforted, ye sons of grief! Have hope in God, for you shall yet praise him who is the health of your countenance. The rain does not always fall, nor will the clouds always return. Sorrow and sighing shall flee away. Threshing is not an operation which the corn requires all the year round; for the most part the flail is idle. Bless the Lord, O my soul! The Lord will yet bring home his banished ones. Above all, tribulation will not last forever, for we shall soon be gone to another and better world. We shall soon be carried to the land where there are neither threshing-floors nor corn-drags. I sometimes think I hear the herald calling me. His trumpet sounds: "Up and away! Boot and saddle! Up and away! Leave the camp and the battle, and return in triumph." The night is far spent with you, but the morning cometh. The daylight breaks above yon hills. The day is coming--the day that shall go no more down forever. Come, eat your bread with joy, and march onward with a merry heart; for the land which floweth with milk and honey is but a little way before you. Until the day break and the shadows flee away, abide the Great Husbandman's will, and may the Lord glorify himself in you. Amen. WHEAT IN THE BARN. "Gather the wheat into my barn."--MATTHEW 13:30. "GATHER the wheat into my barn." Then the purpose of the Son of man will be accomplished. He sowed good seed, and he shall have his barn filled with it at the last. Be not dispirited, Christ will not be disappointed. "He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied." He went forth weeping, bearing precious seed, but he shall come again rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. "Gather the wheat into my barn;" then Satan's policy will be unsuccessful. The enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat, hopeful that the false wheat would destroy or materially injure the true; but he failed in the end, for the wheat ripened and was ready to be gathered. Christ's garner shall be filled; the tares shall not choke the wheat. The evil one will be put to shame. In gathering in the wheat, good angels will be employed: "the angels are the reapers." This casts special scorn upon the great evil angel. He sows the tares, and tries to destroy the harvest; and therefore the good angels are brought in to celebrate his defeat, and to rejoice together with their Lord in the success of the divine husbandry. Satan will make a poor profit out of his meddling; he shall be baulked in all his efforts, and so the threat shall be fulfilled, "Upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat." By giving the angels work to do, all intelligent creatures, of whose existence we have information, are made to take an interest in the work of grace; whether for malice or for adoration, redemption excites them all. To all, the wonderful works of God are made manifest; for these things were not done in a corner. We too much forget the angels. Let us not overlook their tender sympathy with us; they behold the Lord rejoicing over our repentance, and they rejoice with him; they are our watchers and the Lord's messengers of mercy; they bear us up in their hands lest we dash our foot against a stone; and when we come to die, they carry us to the bosom of our Lord. It is one of our joys that we have come to an innumerable company of angels; let us think of them with affection. At this time I will keep to my text, and preach from it almost word by word. It begins with "but," and that is A WORD OF SEPARATION. Here note that the tares and the wheat will grow together until the time of harvest shall come. It is a great sorrow of heart to some of the wheat to be growing side by side with tares. The ungodly are as thorns and briers to those who fear the Lord. How frequently is the sigh forced forth from the godly heart: "Woe is me, that I sojourn in Mesech, that I dwell in the tents of Kedar!" A man's foes are often found within his own household; those who should have been his best helpers are often his worst hinderers; their conversation vexes and torments him. It is of little use to try to escape from them, for the tares are permitted in God's providence to grow with the wheat, and they will do so until the end. Good men have emigrated to distant lands to found communities in which there should be none but saints, and, alas! sinners have sprung up in their own families. The attempt to weed the ungodly and heretical out of the settlement has led to persecution and other evils, and the whole plan has proved a failure. Others have shut themselves away in hermitages to avoid the temptations of the world, and so have hoped to win the victory by running away; this is not the way of wisdom. The word for this present is, "Let both grow together;" _but_ there will come a time when a final separation will be made. Then, dear Christian woman, your husband will never persecute you again. Godly sister, your brother will heap no more ridicule upon you. Pious workman, there will be no more jesting and taunting from the ungodly. That "but" will be an iron gate between the god-fearing and the godless; then will the tares be cast into the fire, _but_ the Lord of the harvest will say, "Gather the wheat into my barn." This separation must be made; for the growing of the wheat and the tares together on earth has caused much pain and injury, and therefore it will not be continued in a happier world. We can very well suppose that godly men and women might be willing that their unconverted children should dwell with them in heaven; but it cannot be, for God will not have his cleansed ones defiled nor his glorified ones tried by the presence of the unbelieving. The tares must be taken away in order to the perfectness and usefulness of the wheat. Would you have the tares and the wheat heaped up together in the granary in one mass? That would be ill husbandry with a vengeance. They can neither of them be put to appropriate use till thoroughly separated. Even so, mark you, the saved and the unsaved may live together here, but they must not live together in another world. The command is absolute: "Gather the tares, and bind them in bundles to burn them: _but_ gather the wheat into my barn." Sinner, can you hope to enter heaven? You never loved your mother's God, and is he to endure you in his heavenly courts? You never trusted your father's Saviour, and yet are you to behold his glory for ever? Are you to go swaggering down the streets of heaven, letting fall an oath, or singing a loose song? Why, you know, you get tired of the worship of God on the Lord's day; do you think that the Lord will endure unwilling worshippers in the temple above? The Sabbath is a wearisome day to you; how can you hope to enter into the Sabbath of God? You have no taste for heavenly pursuits, and these things would be profaned if you were permitted to partake in them; therefore that word "but" must come in, and you must part from the Lord's people never to meet again. Can you bear to think of being divided from godly friends for ever and ever? That separation involves an awful difference of destiny. "Gather the tares in bundles to burn them." I do not dare to draw the picture; but when the bundle is bound up there is no place for it except the fire. God grant that you may never know all the anguish which burning must mean; but may you escape from it at once. It is no trifle which the Lord of love compares to being consumed with fire. I am quite certain that no words of mine can ever set forth its terror. They say that we speak dreadful things about the wrath to come; but I am sure that we understate the case. What must the tender, loving, gracious Jesus have meant by the words, "Gather the tares, and bind them in bundles to burn them?" See what a wide distinction between the lot of the Lord's people and Satan's people. Burn the wheat? Oh, no; "Gather the wheat into my barn." There let them be happily, safely housed for ever. Oh, the infinite distance between heaven and hell!--the harps and the angels, and the wailing and gnashing of teeth! Who can ever measure the width of that gulf which divides the glorified saint, white-robed and crowned with immortality, from the soul which is driven forever away from the presence of God, and from the glory of his power? It is a dreadful "but"--that "but" of separation. I pray you, remember that it will interpose between brother and brother--between mother and child--between husband and wife. "One shall be taken and the other left." And when that sword shall descend to divide, there shall never be any after union. The separation is eternal. There is no hope or possibility of change in the world to come. But, says one, "that dreadful '_but_'! Why must there be such a difference?" The answer is, Because there always was a difference. The wheat was sown by the Son of man; the false wheat was sown by the enemy. There was always a difference in character--the wheat was good, the tares were evil. This difference did not appear at first, but it became more and more apparent as the wheat ripened, and as the tares ripened too. They were totally different plants; and so a regenerate person and an unregenerate person are altogether different beings. I have heard an unregenerate man say that he is quite as good as the godly man; but in so boasting he betrayed his pride. Surely there is as great a difference in God's sight between the unsaved and the believer as between darkness and light, or between the dead and the living. There is in the one a life which there is not in the other, and the difference is vital and radical. Oh, that you may never trifle with this essential matter, but be really the wheat of the Lord! It is vain to have the name of wheat, we must have the nature of wheat. God will not be mocked; he will not be pleased by our calling ourselves Christians while we are not so. Be not satisfied with church membership; but seek after membership with Christ. Do not talk about faith, but exercise it. Do not boast of experience, but possess it. Be not _like_ the wheat, but be the wheat. No shams and imitations will stand in the last great day; that terrible "but" will roll as a sea of fire between the true and the false. Oh Holy Spirit! let each of us be found transformed by thy power. II. The second word of our text is "gather"--that is A WORD OF CONGREGATION. What a blessed thing this gathering is! I feel it a great pleasure to gather multitudes together to hear the gospel; and is it not a joy to see a house full of people, on week-days and Sabbath-days, who are willing to leave their homes and to come considerable distances to listen to the gospel? It is a great thing to gather people together for that; but the gathering of the wheat into the barn is a far more wonderful business. Gathering is in itself better than scattering, and I pray that the Lord Jesus may ever exercise his attracting power in this place; for he is no Divider, but "unto him shall the gathering of the people be." Has he not said, "I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me"? Observe, that the congregation mentioned in our text is selected and assembled by skilled gatherers: "The angels are the reapers." Ministers could not do it, for they do not know all the Lord's wheat, and they are apt to make mistakes--some by too great leniency, and others by excessive severity. Our poor judgments occasionally shut out saints, and often shut in sinners. The angels will know their Master's property. They know each saint, for they were present at his birthday. Angels know when sinners repent, and they never forget the persons of the penitents. They have witnessed the lives of those who have believed, and have helped them in their spiritual battles, and so they know them. Yes, angels by a holy instinct discern the Father's children, and are not to be deceived. They will not fail to gather all the wheat and to leave out every tare. But they are gathered under a very stringent regulation; for, first of all, according to the parable, the tares, the false wheat, have been taken out, and then the angelic reapers gather nothing but the wheat. The seed of the serpent, fathered by Satan, is thus separated from the seed of the kingdom, owned by Jesus, the promised deliverer. This is the one distinction; and no other is taken into consideration. If the most amiable unconverted persons could stand in the ranks with the saints, the angels would not bear them to heaven, for the mandate is, "Gather the wheat." Could the most honest man be found standing in the centre of the church, with all the members round about him, and with all the ministers entreating that he might be spared, yet if he were not a believer he could not be carried into the divine garner. There is no help for it. The angels have no choice in the matter; the peremptory command is, "Gather _the wheat_," and they must gather none else. It will be a gathering from very great distances. Some of the wheat ripens in the South Sea Islands, in China, and in Japan. Some flourishes in France, broad acres grow in the United States; there is scarce a land without a portion of the good grain. Where all God's wheat grows I cannot tell. There is a remnant, according to the election of grace, among every nation and people; but the angels will gather all the good grain to the same garner. "Gather the wheat." The saints will be found in all ranks of society. The angels will bring in a few ears from palaces, and great armfuls from cottages! Many will be collected from the lowly cottages of our villages and hamlets, and others will be upraised from the back slums of our great cities to the metropolis of God. From the darkest places angels will bring those children of sweetness and light who seldom beheld the sun, and yet were pure in heart and saw their God. The hidden and obscure shall be brought into the light, for the Lord knoweth them that are his, and his harvestmen will not miss them. To me it is a charming thought that they will come from all the ages. Let us hope that our first father Adam will be there, and mother Eve, following in the footsteps of their dear son Abel, and trusting in the same sacrifice. We shall meet Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and Moses, and David, and Daniel, and all the saints made perfect. What a joy to see the apostles, martyrs, and reformers! I long to see Luther, and Calvin, and Bunyan, and Whitefield. I like the rhyme of good old father Ryland: "They all shall be there, the great and the small, Poor I shall shake hands with the blessed St. Paul." I do not know how that will be, but I have not much doubt that we shall have fellowship with all the saints of every age in the general assembly and church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. No matter when or where the wheat grew, it shall be gathered into the one barn; gathered never to be scattered; gathered out of all divisions of the visible church, never to be divided again. They grew in different fields. Some flourished on the hillside where Episcopalians grow in all their glory, and others in the lowlier soil, where Baptists multiply, and Methodists flourish; but once the wheat is in the barn none can tell in which field the ears grew. Then, indeed, shall the Master's prayer have a glorious answer--"That they all may be one." All our errors removed and our mistakes corrected and forgiven, the one Lord, the one faith, and the one baptism will be known of us all, and there will be no more vexings and envyings. What a blessed gathering it will be! What a meeting! The elect of God, the _élite_ of all the centuries, of whom the world was not worthy. I should not like to be away. If there were no hell, it would be hell enough to me to be shut out of such heavenly society. If there were no weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, it would be dreadful enough to miss the presence of the Lord, and the joy of praising him forever, and the bliss of meeting with all the noblest beings that ever lived. Amid the needful controversies of the age, I, who have been doomed to seem a man of strife, sigh for the blessed rest wherein all spiritual minds shall blend in eternal accord before the throne of God and of the Lamb. Oh that we were all right, that we might be all happily united in one spirit! In the text there is next A WORD OF DESIGNATION. I have already trespassed upon that domain. "Gather _the wheat_." Nothing but "the wheat" must be placed in the Lord's homestead. Lend me your hearts while I urge you to a searching examination for a minute or two. The wheat was sown of the Lord. Are you sown of the Lord? Friend, if you have any religion, how did you get it? Was it self-sown? If so, it is good for nothing. The true wheat was sown by the Son of man. Are you sown of the Lord? Did the Spirit of God drop eternal life into your bosom? Did it come from that dear hand which was nailed to the cross? Is Jesus your life? Does your life begin and end with him? If so, it is well. The wheat sown of the Lord is also the object of the Lord's care. Wheat needs a deal of attention. The farmer would get nothing from it if he did not watch it carefully. Are you under the Lord's care? Does he keep you? Is that word true to your soul, "I the Lord do keep it; I will water it every moment: lest any hurt it, I will keep it night and day?" Do you experience such keeping? Make an honest answer, as you love your soul. Next, wheat is a useful thing, a gift from God for the life of men. The false wheat was of no good to anybody; it could only be eaten of swine, and then it made them stagger like drunken men. Are you one of those who are wholesome in society--who are like bread to the world, so that if men receive you and your example and your teaching they will be blessed thereby? Judge yourselves whether ye are good or evil in life and influence. "Gather the wheat." You know that God must put the goodness, the grace, the solidity, and the usefulness into you, or else you will never be wheat fit for angelic gathering. One thing is true of the wheat--that it is the most dependent of all plants. I have never heard of a field of wheat which sprang up, and grew, and ripened without a husbandman's care. Some ears may appear after a harvest when the corn has shaled out; but I have never heard of plains in America or elsewhere covered with unsown wheat. No, no. There is no wheat where there is no man, and there is no grace where there is no Christ. We owe our very existence to the Father, who is the husbandman. Yet, dependent as it is, wheat stands in the front rank of honor and esteem; and so do the godly in the judgment of all who are of understanding heart. We are nothing without Christ; but with him we are full of honor. Oh, to be among those by whom the world is preserved, the excellent of the earth in whom the saints delight; God forbid we should be among the base and worthless tares! Our last head, upon which also I will speak briefly, is A WORD OF DESTINATION. "Gather the wheat _into my barn_." The process of gathering in the wheat will be completed at the day of judgment, but it is going on every day. From hour to hour saints are gathered; they are going heavenward even now. I am so glad to hear as a regular thing that the departed ones from my own dear church have such joy in being harvested. Glory be to God, our people die well. The best thing is to live well, but we are greatly gladdened to hear that the brethren die well; for, full often, that is the most telling witness for vital godliness. Men of the world feel the power of triumphant deaths. Every hour the saints are being gathered into the barn. That is where they want to be. We feel no pain at the news of ingathering, for we wish to be safely stored up by our Lord. If the wheat that is in the field could speak, every ear would say, "The ultimatum for which we are living and growing is the barn, the granary." For this the frosty night; for this the sunny day; for this the dew and the rain; and for this everything. Every process with the wheat is tending toward the granary. So is it with us; everything is working toward heaven--toward the gathering place--toward the congregation of the righteous--toward the vision of our Redeemer's face. Our death will cause no jar in our life-music; it will involve no pause or even discord; it is part of a programme, the crowning of our whole history. To the wheat the barn is the place of security. It dreads no mildew there; it fears no frost, no heat, no drought, no wet, when once in the barn. All its growth-perils are past. It has reached its perfection. It has rewarded the labor of the husbandman, and it is housed. Oh, long-expected day, begin! Oh, brethren, what a blessing it will be when you and I shall have come to our maturity, and Christ shall see in us the travail of his soul. I delight to think of heaven as _his_ barn; _his_ barn, what must that be? It is but the poverty of language that such an expression has to be used at all concerning the home of our Father, the dwelling of Jesus. Heaven is the palace of the King, but, so far, to us a barn, because it is the place of security, the place of rest for ever. It is the homestead of Christ to which we shall be carried, and for this we are ripening. It is to be thought of with ecstatic joy; for the gathering into the barn involves a harvest home, and I have never heard of men sitting down to cry over an earthly harvest home, nor of their following the sheaves with tears. Nay, they clap their hands, they dance for joy, and shout right lustily. Let us do something like that concerning those who are already housed. With grave, sweet melodies let us sing around their tombs. Let us feel that, surely, the bitterness of death is passed. When we remember their glory, we may rejoice like the travailing woman when her child is born, who "remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world." Another soul begins to sing in heaven; why do you weep, O heirs of immortality? Is the eternal happiness of the righteous the birth which comes of their death-pangs? Then happy are they who die. Is glory the end and outcome of that which fills our home with mourning? If so, thank God for bereavements; thank God for saddest severings. He has promoted our dear ones to the skies! He has blessed them beyond all that we could ask or even think; he has taken them out of this weary world to lie in his own bosom for ever. Blessed be his name if it were for nothing else but this. Would you keep your old father here, full of pain, and broken down with feebleness? Would you shut him out of glory? Would you detain your dear wife here with all her suffering? Would you hold back your husband from the crown immortal? Could you wish your child to descend to earth again from the bliss which now surrounds her? No, no. We wish to be going home ourselves to the heavenly Father's house and its many mansions; but concerning the departed we rejoice before the Lord as with the joy of harvest. "Wherefore comfort one another with these words." _Funk & Wagnalls' Important Publications._ The Ethics of Marriage. BY H. S. POMEROY, M.D. Prefatory note by Thomas Addis Emmett, M.D., LL.D., and Introduction by Rev. J. T. Duryea, D.D., of Boston. With an appendix showing the laws of most of the States and Territories regarding certain forms of crime. 12mo, cloth, 190 pp. Price, $1.00. The Author says in the preface: "The matters here treated have been on my heart for many years. Heart-sickening facts have come to my notice within the past few months, and I feel it my duty to send out this warning in regard to what I consider the first and greatest danger of our family and national life. I believe the prevention or destruction of unborn human life to be, par-excellence, the American sin, and that, if not checked, it will sooner or later be our calamity. 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Every Prohibitionist recognizes the extreme value of this pamphlet, as it gives the conclusive testimony of the highest courts as to the legality of Prohibition laws. 
30619	----	generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries) LUTHER'S EPISTLE SERMONS TRINITY SUNDAY TO ADVENT. TRANSLATED WITH THE HELP OF OTHERS BY PROF. JOHN NICHOLAS LENKER, D.D. AUTHOR OF "LUTHERANS IN ALL LANDS," TRANSLATOR OF LUTHER'S WORKS INTO ENGLISH, AND PRESIDENT OF THE NATIONAL LUTHERAN LIBRARY ASSOCIATION VOL. III. (_Volume IX of Luther's Complete Works_.) Third Thousand _The Luther Press_ MINNEAPOLIS, MINN., U.S.A. 1909. _Dedication_ To all Laymen of Evangelical Christendom interested in developing a deeper Christian Life, on the basis of the spiritual classics of our Protestant Church Fathers, this volume of sermons that apply the pure doctrine of God's Word to everyday life, is prayerfully dedicated. Copyright, 1909, by J. N. LENKER. _Foreword_ Here comes the English Luther in his twelfth visit to your home. In peasant boots, decorated by no star of worldliness nor even by the cross of churchliness, but by the Book from heaven pressed to his heart in a firm attitude of earnest prayer, he comes as the man of prayer and of the one Book, a familiar friend, to help you to live the simple Christian life. This volume of twenty-four practical sermons from Trinity Sunday to Advent marks an epoch in that it completes in an unabridged form one branch of Luther's writings, the eight volumes of his Gospel and Epistle Postil. They are bound in uniform size, numbered as in the Erlangen edition from the seventh to the fourteenth volume inclusive, paragraphed for convenient reference according to the Walch edition with summaries of the Gospel sermons by Bugenhagen. The few subheads inserted in the text are a new feature for American readers. These eight volumes of 175 sermons and 3,110 pages are the classic devotional literature of Protestantism. They were preached by its founder to the mother congregation of Evangelical Christendom in the birth-period of the greatest factor in modern civilization. No collection of Evangelical sermons has passed through more editions and been printed in more languages, none more loved and praised, none more read and prayed. They will be a valuable addition to the meager sermon literature on the Epistle texts in the English language. English Protestants will hereafter have no excuse for unacquaintance with Luther's spiritual writings. What Luther's two Catechisms were in the school room to teach the Christian faith to the youth, that these sermons were in the homes to develop the same faith in adults. They have maintained their good name wherever translated until the present and their contents are above the reach of critics. These Epistle sermons especially apply the Christian truth to everyday life. The order in developing the Christian life with the best help from the prince of the Teutonic church fathers, should be from the Small to the Large Catechism and then to his Epistle sermons. Blessed the pastor and congregation who can lead the youth to "Church Postil Reading"--to read in harmony with their church-going. Blessed is the immigrant or diaspora missionary who finds his people reading them in the new settlements he visits. Next to the Bible and Catechisms no books did more to awaken and sustain the great Evangelical religious movements under Spener in Germany, Rosenius in Sweden, and Hauge in Norway, than these sermon books devoutly and regularly read in the homes of church members. The transition of a people and church from a weak language into a stronger, is easy and accompanied by gain; while the opposite course from a strong into a weaker tongue is difficult; and accompanied by loss. While in our land the Germans and Scandinavians lose much in the transition ordeal, all is not lost; they have something to give. It is a good sign that two-tongued congregations are growing in favor. Familiar thought in a strange language is not so strange as when both language and thought are foreign. A church whose constituency is many-tongued should avoid becoming one-tongued. Church divisions are often more ethnological than theological. If exclusively English pastors learned one-tenth as much German and Scandinavian as these people do English, unity would be greatly promoted. As Protestantism is far more divided in the English language than in German or Scandinavian, the enthusiasm over the unifying influence of English is misleading. The hope is rather in the oneness of teaching and of spirit. This treasure, given first in Hebrew, Greek and German, can be translated into all languages. Who equals Luther as a translator? May his followers be inspired by his example and translate the Evangelical classics of this prophet of the Gentiles into all their dialects! That these volumes may contribute to this end is our prayer. The history of the writing of these sermons is found in volumes 10, 11, 12 and 13 of the Gospel sermons of the "Standard Edition of Luther's Works in English." The German text will be readily found in the 12th volume of the Walch and of the St. Louis Walch editions, and in the 9th volume of the Erlangen edition of Luther's works. Grateful acknowledgment is hereby made for translations to the following: To Pastor H. L. Burry, the first sermon for Trinity Sunday; Pastor W. E. Tressel, Third Sunday after Trinity; Prof. A. G. Voigt, D. D., the Fifth and Twenty-fourth Sundays; Dr. Joseph Stump, Sixth, Eighth and Thirteenth Sundays; Prof. A. W. Meyer, Eighteenth and Nineteenth Sundays; and to Pastor C. B. Gohdes for revising the Second Sermon for Trinity Sunday and the sermons for the Second, Tenth, Twelfth and Sixteenth Sundays after Trinity. Next volumes to appear will be Genesis Vol. II, Psalms Vol. II and Galatians. Heartily do we thank all parts of the church for their complimentary, suggestive and helpful coöperation and earnestly hope our work may be worthy of its continuance. J. N. LENKER. Home for Young Women, Minneapolis, Minn., Pentecost, 1909. _Contents_ Trinity Sunday.--The Article of Faith on the Trinity. The Revelation of the Divine Nature and Will. Romans 11, 33-36 . . 7 Second Sermon.--The Trinity. Romans 11, 33-36 . . . . . . . . . 36 First Sunday After Trinity.--Love. God is Love. 1 John 4, 16-21 40 Second Sunday After Trinity.--Exhortation to Brotherly Love. 1 John 3, 13-18 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Third Sunday After Trinity.--Humility, Trust, Watchfulness, Suffering. 1 Peter 5, 5-11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 Fourth Sunday After Trinity.--Consolation in Suffering and Patience. Waiting for the Revealing of the Sons of God. Romans 8, 18-22 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 Second Sermon.--Suffering, Waiting and Sighing of Creation. Romans 8, 18-22 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Fifth Sunday After Trinity.--Exhortation to the Fruits of Faith. Duty of Unity and Love. 1 Peter 3, 8-15 . . . . . . . . . . . 119 Sixth Sunday After Trinity.--Exhortation to Christian Living. Life in Christ. Romans 6, 3-11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 Seventh Sunday After Trinity.--Exhortation to Resist Sin. The Wages of Sin and the Gift of God. Romans 6, 19-23 . . . . . . 156 Eighth Sunday After Trinity.--Exhortation to Live in the Spirit Since We Have Become the Children of God, Sons and Heirs. Romans 8, 12-17 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 Ninth Sunday After Trinity.--Warning to Christians Against Carnal Security and Its Evils. 1 Corinthians 10, 6-13 . . . . 180 Tenth Sunday After Trinity.--Spiritual Counsel for Church Officers. The Use of the Spiritual Gifts. 1 Corinthians 12, 1-11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197 Eleventh Sunday After Trinity.--Paul's Witness to Christ's Resurrection. 1 Corinthians 15, 1-10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221 Twelfth Sunday After Trinity.--The Twofold Use of the Law and the Gospel. "Letter" and "Spirit." 2 Corinthians 3, 4-11 . . . 223 Thirteenth Sunday After Trinity.--God's Testament and Promise in Christ, and Use of the Law. Galatians 3, 15-22 . . . . . . . . 248 Fourteenth Sunday After Trinity.--Works of the Flesh and Fruits of the Spirit. Galatians 5, 16-24 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 Fifteenth Sunday After Trinity.--Conduct of Christians to One Another in Church Government. Sowing and Reaping. Galatians 5, 25-26 and 6, 1-10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 257 Sixteenth Sunday After Trinity.--Paul's Care and Prayer for the Church That It May Continue to Abide in Christ. Ephesians 3, 13-21 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259 Seventeenth Sunday After Trinity.--Exhortation to Live According to the Christian Calling, and in the Unity of the Spirit. Ephesians 4, 1-6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Eighteenth Sunday After Trinity.--The Treasure Christians Have in the Preaching of the Gospel. The Call to Fellowship. 1 Corinthians 1, 4-9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 292 Nineteenth Sunday After Trinity.--Putting on the New Man and Laying Off the Old Man. Ephesians 4, 22-28 . . . . . . . . . . 304 Twentieth Sunday After Trinity.--The Careful Walk of the Christian and Redeeming the Time. Ephesians 5, 15-21 . . . . . 317 Twenty-First Sunday After Trinity.--The Christian Armor and Weapons. Ephesians 6, 10-17 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Twenty-Second Sunday After Trinity.--Paul's Thanks and Prayers for His Churches. Philippians 1, 3-11 . . . . . . . . . . . . 330 Twenty-Third Sunday After Trinity.--The Enemies of the Cross of Christ and the Christian's Citizenship in Heaven. Philippians 3, 17-21 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 343 Twenty-Fourth Sunday After Trinity.--Knowledge of God's Will and Its Fruits. Prayer and Spiritual Knowledge. Colossians 1, 3-14 358 Twenty-Fifth Sunday After Trinity.--Christ Will Take Both Alike to Himself, the Dead and Living, When He Comes. 1 Thessalonians 4, 13-18 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 379 Twenty-Sixth Sunday After Trinity.--God's Righteous Judgment in the Future. When Christ Comes. 2 Thessalonians 1, 3-10 . . . . 380 _Trinity Sunday_ Text: Romans 11, 33-36. 33 O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and the knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past tracing out! 34 For who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counsellor? 35 or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again? 36 For of him and through him, and unto him, are all things. To him be the glory for ever. Amen. THE ARTICLE OF FAITH ON THE TRINITY. 1. This epistle is read today because the festival of Holy Trinity, or of the three persons of the Godhead--which is the prime, great, incomprehensible and chief article of faith--is observed on this day. The object of its observance is that, by the Word of God, this truth of the Godhead may be preserved among Christians, enabling them to know God as he would be known. For although Paul does not treat of that article in this epistle, but touches on it only in a few words in the conclusion, nevertheless he would teach that in our attempts to comprehend God we must not speculate and judge according to human wisdom, but in the light of the Word of God alone. For these divine truths are too far above the reach of reason ever to be comprehended and explored by the understanding of man. 2. And although I have, on other occasions, taught and written on this article fully and frequently enough, still I must say a few words in general concerning it here. True, it is not choice German, nor has it a pleasing sound, when we designate God by the word "Dreifaltigkeit" (nor is the Latin, Trinitas, more elegant); but since we have no better term, we must employ these. For, as I have said, this article is so far above the power of the human mind to grasp, or the tongue to express, that God, as the Father of his children, will pardon us when we stammer and lisp as best we can, if only our faith be pure and right. By this term, however, we would say that we believe the divine majesty to be three distinct persons of one true essence. 3. This is the revelation and knowledge Christians have of God: they not only know him to be one true God, who is independent of and over all creatures, and that there can be no more than this one true God, but they know also what this one true God in his essential, inscrutable essence is. 4. The reason and wisdom of man may go so far as to reach the conclusion, although feebly, that there must be one eternal divine being, who has created and who preserves and governs all things. Man sees such a beautiful and wonderful creation in the heavens and on the earth, one so wonderfully, regularly and securely preserved and ordered, that he must say: It is impossible that this came into existence by mere chance, or that it originated and controls itself; there must have been a Creator and Lord from whom all these things proceed and by whom they are governed. Thus God may be known by his creatures, as St. Paul says: "For the invisible things of him since the creation of the world are clearly seen, being perceived through the things that are made, even his everlasting power and divinity." Rom 1, 20. This is (a posteriori) the knowledge that we have when we contemplate God from without, in his works and government; as one, looking upon a castle or house from without, would draw conclusions as to its lord or keeper. 5. But from within (a priori) no human wisdom has been able to conceive what God is in himself, or in his internal essence. Neither can anyone know or give information of it except it be revealed to him by the Holy Spirit. For no one knoweth, as Paul says (1 Cor 2, 11), the things of man save the spirit of man which is in him; even so the things of God none knoweth save the Spirit of God. From without, I may see what you do, but what your intentions are and what you think, I cannot see. Again, neither can you know what I think except I enable you to understand it by word or sign. Much less can we know what God, in his own inner and secret essence is, until the Holy Spirit, who searcheth and knoweth all things, yea, the deep things of God--as Paul says above--reveals it to us: as he does in the declaration of this article, in which he teaches us the existence in the divine majesty of the one undivided essence, but in such manner that there is, first, the person which is called the Father; and of him exists the second person called the Son, born from eternity; and proceeding from both these is the third, namely, the Holy Spirit. These three persons are not distinct from each other, as individual brothers or sisters are, but they have being in one and the same eternal, undivided and indivisible essence. 6. This, I say, is not discovered or attained to by human reason. It is revealed from heaven above. Therefore, only Christians can intelligently speak of what the Godhead essentially is, and of his outward manifestation to his creatures, and his will toward men concerning their salvation. For all this is imparted to them by the Holy Spirit, who reveals and proclaims it through the Word. 7. Those who have no such revelation, and who judge according to their own wisdom, such as the Jews, Turks and heathen, must consider the Christian's declaration the greatest error and rankest heresy; they must say that we Christians are mad and foolish in imagining that there are three Gods, when, according to all reason--yea, even according to the Word of God--there can be but one God. It would not be reasonable, they will say, that there should be more than one householder over the same house, more than one lord or sovereign over the same government; much less reasonably should more than one God reign over heaven and earth. They imagine that thus with their wisdom they have completely overthrown our faith and exposed it to the derision and scorn of all the world. As if we were all blockheads and egregious fools and could not see their logic as well as they! But, thank God, we have understanding equal to theirs, and can argue as convincingly, or more so, than they with their Alkoran and Talmud, that there is but the one God. 8. Further, we know, from the testimony of Holy Writ, that we cannot expound the mystery of these divine things by the speculations of reason and a pretense of great wisdom. To explain this, as well as all the articles of our faith, we must have a knowledge higher than any to which the understanding of man can attain. That knowledge of God which the heathen can perceive by reason or deduce from rational premises is but a small part of the knowledge that we should possess. The heathen Aristotle in his best book concludes from a passage in the wisest pagan poet, Homer: There can be no good government in which there is more than one lord; it results as where more than one master or mistress attempts to direct the household servants. So must there be but one lord and regent in every government. This is all rightly true. God has implanted such light and understanding in human nature for the purpose of giving a conception and an illustration of his divine office, the only Lord and Maker of all creatures. But, even knowing this, we have not yet searched out or fathomed the exalted, eternal, divine Godhead essence. For even though I have learned that there is an only divine majesty, who governs all things, I do not thereby know the inner workings of this divine essence himself; this no one can tell me, except, as we have said, in so far as God himself reveals it in his Word. 9. Now we Christians have the Scriptures, which we know to be the Word of God. The Jews also have them, from whose fathers they have descended to us. From these, and from no other source, we have obtained all that is known of God and divine works, from the beginning of the world. Even among the Turks and the heathen, all their knowledge of God--excepting what is manifestly fable and fiction--came from the Scriptures. And our knowledge is confirmed and proven by great miracles, even to the present day. These Scriptures declare, concerning this article, that there is no God or divine being save this one alone. They not only manifest him to us from without, but they lead us into his inner essence, and show us that in him there are three persons; not three Gods or three different kinds of divinity, but the same undivided, divine essence. 10. Such a revelation is radiantly shed forth from the greatest of God's works, the declaration of his divine counsel and will. In that counsel and will it was decreed from all eternity, and, accordingly, was proclaimed in his promises, that his Son should become man and die to reconcile man to God. For in our dreadful fall into sin and death eternal, there was no way to save us excepting through an eternal person who had power over sin and death to destroy them, and to give us righteousness and everlasting life instead. This no angel or other creature could do; it must needs be done of God himself. Now, it could not be done by the person of the Father, who was to be reconciled, but it must be done by a second person, with whom this counsel was determined and through whom and for whose sake the reconciliation was to be brought about. 11. Here there are, therefore, two distinct persons, one of whom becomes reconciled, and the other is sent to reconcile and becomes man. The former is called the Father, being first in that he did not have his origin in any other; the latter is called the Son, being born of the Father from eternity. To this the Scriptures attest, for they make mention of God's Son; as, for instance, in Psalm 2, 7: "Thou art my son; this day have I begotten thee;" and again, Galatians 4, 4: "But when the fulness of the time came, God sent forth his Son," etc. From this it necessarily follows that the Son, who is spoken of as a person, must be distinct from the person of the Father. 12. Again, in the same manner, the Spirit of God is specifically and distinctively mentioned as a person sent or proceeding from God the Father and the Son: for instance, God says in Joel 2, 28: "I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh," etc. Here a spirit is poured out who is God's, or a divine spirit, and who must be of the same essence, otherwise he could not say, "my Spirit;" and yet he must be a person other than he who sent him or who pours out. Again, because when he was sent he manifested himself, and appeared in his descent in a visible form, like that of a dove or tongues of fire, he must be distinct in person from both the Father and the Son. 13. But in this article of faith, in which we say that the Son of God became man and that he was of the same nature as we ourselves are, in order that he might redeem us from sin and death and give us eternal life without any merit or worthiness of our own, we give Jews and Turks no less occasion for laughter and mockery than when we speak of the three persons. For this is a more absurd assertion by far, in the estimation of human reason, which speculates in its Jewish and Turkish--yea, heathenish--teachings, on this wise: God is an only, almighty Lord of all, who has created all men and given them the law according to which they are to live; accordingly it follows that he will be merciful to the good and obedient, but will condemn and punish the disobedient. Therefore, he who does good works and guards himself against sin, God will reward. These are nothing but heathenish conclusions drawn from earthly, worldly experience and observation, as if God's government must be conducted on the same principles as that of a father among his children and domestics; for those are considered good rulers and masters who make a distinction with regard to their own interests. 14. Such heathen ideas of wisdom, holiness and service of God are taught and practiced by the Pope. And so we believed, myself and others, while we were under him, not knowing any better; otherwise we would have done and taught differently. And, in fact, he who has not this revelation and Word of God, can neither believe nor teach other than pagan doctrine. With such a faith, how much better were we than the heathen and Turks? Yea, how could we guard ourselves against any deception and lying nonsense that might be offered as good works and as service of God? Then we had to follow every impostor who came with his cowl and cord, as if Christ were represented in him; and we thought that in the observance of these things we would be saved. So the whole world was filled with naught but false service of God--which the Scriptures properly call idolatry--the product of human wisdom, which is so easily deceived by that which pretends to be a good work and to be obedience to God. For human wisdom knows no better; and how could it know better without the revelation? Even when the revelation was proclaimed, human wisdom would not heed it, but despised it and followed its own fancies. Hence it continued to be hidden and incomprehensible to such wisdom, as Saint Paul says: "For who hath known the mind of the Lord?" 15. But to us this counsel and mind of God in giving his Son to take upon himself our flesh, is revealed and declared. For from the Word of God we have the knowledge that no man of himself can be righteous before God; that our whole life and all our deeds are under wrath and condemnation, because we are wholly born in sin and by nature are disobedient to God; but if we would be delivered from sin and be saved, we must believe on this mediator, the Son of God, who has taken our sin and death upon himself, by his own blood and death rendering satisfaction, and has by his resurrection, delivered us. In this truth we will abide, regardless of the ridicule heaped upon us because of such faith, by heathen wisdom, which teaches that God rewards the pious. We understand that quite as well, if not better, than heathenism does. But in these mysteries we need a higher wisdom than our own minds have devised or can devise, a wisdom given to us by grace alone, through divine revelation. 16. For it is not our intention thus to pry into the counsel, thoughts and ways of God with our understanding and opinions, and to be his counselors, as they do who meddle in the affairs that are the prerogative of the Godhead, and who even dare, in the face of this passage of Saint Paul, to refuse to receive or learn of God, but would impart to him that for which he must recompense again. And thus they make gods after their own fancy, as many gods as they have thoughts; so that every shabby monastic cowl or self-appointed work, in their estimation, accomplishes as much and passes for as much as God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, in their eternal divine counsel, determine and accomplish. And they continue to be nothing but wearers of cowls and instructors in works, which works even they can do who know nothing of God and are manifestly scoundrels. And even though they have long been occupied with these things, they still do not know how matters stand between themselves and God. And it will ever be true as Saint Paul says: "For who hath known the mind of the Lord, or who hath been his counselor?" 17. For your own theories--which are no more than what anyone can arrive at, conjecture or conceive in his own mind, without divine revelation--are not a knowledge of the mind of God. And what does it avail if you are not able to say more than that God is merciful to the good and will punish the wicked? Who will assure you that you are good and that you are pleasing to God with your papistic, Turkish monkery and holiness? Is it all that is necessary to assert: God will reward with heaven such as are faithful to the order? No, dear brother, mere presumption, or an expression of your opinion, will not suffice here. I could do that as well as you. Indeed, each may devise his own peculiar idea; one a black, and another a gray monk's cowl. But we should hear and know what God's counsel is, what is his will and mind. This none can tell you by his own understanding, and no book on earth can teach it except the Scriptures. These God himself has given, and they make known to us that he has sent his Son into the world to redeem us from sin and the wrath of God, and that whosoever believes in him should have everlasting life. DIVINE MYSTERIES INEXPLICABLE TO REASON. 18. Behold, Paul's purpose in this epistle is to show Christians that these sublime and divine mysteries--that is, God's actual divine essence and his will, administration and works--are absolutely beyond all human thought, human understanding or wisdom; in short, that they are and ever will be incomprehensible, inscrutable and altogether hidden to human reason. When reason presumptuously undertakes to solve, to teach and explain these matters, the result is worthless, yea, utter darkness and deception. If anything is to be ascertained, it must be through revelation alone; that is, the Word of God, which was sent from heaven. 19. We do not apply these words of Paul to the question of divine predestination for every human being--who will be saved and who not. For into these things God would not have us curiously inquire. He has not given us any special revelation in regard to them, but refers all men here to the words of the Gospel. By them they are to be guided. He would have them hear and learn the Gospel, and believing in it they shall be saved. Therein have all the saints found comfort and assurance in regard to their election to eternal life; not in any special revelation in regard to their predestination, but in faith in Christ. Therefore, where Saint Paul treats of election, in the three chapters preceding this text, he would not have any to inquire or search out whether he has been predestinated or not; but he holds forth the Gospel and faith to all men. So he taught before, that we are saved through faith in Christ. He says (Rom 10, 8): "The word is nigh thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart," and he explains himself by saying that this word should be proclaimed to all men, that they may believe what he says in verses 12 and 13: "For the same Lord is Lord of all, and is rich unto all that call upon him: for, Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved." 20. But he speaks of the marvelous ruling of God in the Church, according to which they who have the name and honor of being the people of God, and the Church--the people of Israel--are rejected on account of their unbelief. Others, on the other hand, who formerly were not God's people, but were unbelieving, are now, since they have received the Gospel and believe in Christ, become the true Church in the sight of God, and are saved. Consequently it was on account of their own unbelief that the former were rejected. Then the grace and mercy of God in Christ was offered unto everlasting life, and without any merit of their own, to all such as were formerly in unbelief and sin, if only they would accept and believe it. He declares: "For God hath shut up all unto disobedience, that he might have mercy upon all." Rom 11, 32. 21. Hereupon follows the text, which Saint Paul begins with emotions of profound astonishment at the judgment and dealings of God in his Church, saying: "O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and the knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past tracing out!" 22. Sublime are the thoughts and counsel of God, transcending by far the mind and comprehension of man, yea of all creatures, when he so richly pours forth his goodness and out of pure grace and mercy elects, as beneficiaries of that goodness, the poor and wretched and unworthy, who are concluded under sin--that is, those who acknowledge themselves before God to be guilty and deserving of everlasting wrath and perdition; when he does all this that they might know him in his real divine essence, and the sentiment of his heart--that through his Son he will give all who believe everlasting life. And, again, that they might know how he will reject and condemn the others--those who, in pride and security, boast of their own gifts and the fact that they are called the people of God in preference to all other nations; who boast that they have special promises, that they have the prophets, the fathers, etc.; who think that God will acknowledge no nation on earth but themselves as his people and his Church. He will reject them on account of their unbelief, in which they are fettered by the pride and imaginations of their own wisdom and holiness. 23. This is that rich, inexpressible, divine wisdom and knowledge which they possess who believe in Christ, and by which they are enabled to look into the depths and see what the purposes and thoughts of the divine heart are. True, in their weakness they cannot fully reach it; they only can apprehend it in the revealed Word, by faith, as in a glass or image, as Saint Paul says. 1 Cor 13, 12. But to blind, unbelieving reason, divine wisdom will be foreign and hidden; nothing of it will enter reason's consciousness and thoughts, nor will reason desire more though a revelation be given. 24. That attitude Saint Paul encountered, especially when the arrogant Jews opposed themselves so sternly and stubbornly to the preaching of the Gospel. Filled with astonishment, he exclaimed: What shall I say more? I see indeed that it is but the deep unsearchable wisdom of God, his incomprehensible judgment, his inscrutable ways. So he says elsewhere: "But we speak God's wisdom in a mystery, even the wisdom that hath been hidden, which God foreordained before the world unto our glory: which none of the rulers of this world hath known." 1 Cor 2, 7-8. 25. This depth and richness of wisdom and knowledge, we Christians apprehend through faith; for, as Saint Paul says, it cannot be apprehended nor comprehended otherwise. Though the world will not do it, we will firmly believe that God is a true God and Lord, wise, just and gracious, whose riches and depth are ineffable. We will glorify him with our whole heart, therefore, as he ought justly to be praised and glorified by every creature, for his wonderful government of his Church, through his Word and revelation. Whosoever will hear and receive the same shall have light that will turn them to him and give them a knowledge of their salvation--an experience which others can never realize. And he is to be glorified because he manifests such unutterable goodness to all who are in sin and under God's wrath that he translates them, though they are unworthy and condemned, from the power of death and hell into the kingdom of eternal grace and life, if they will only seek grace and believe on Christ his Son. And, on the other hand, he is to be glorified because, as a just judge, he rightfully rejects and condemns those who will not believe the revelation and testimony of his will in his Son; who insist on, and boast of, their blind fancies, of their own wisdom and righteousness. Being accordingly deprived of such light, such grace and consolation, they must forever be separated and cast forth from the kingdom of God, regardless of what great name and fame may have been theirs when they were supposed to be the people and Church of God. 26. And such are God's unsearchable judgments and his ways past tracing out. Such are his government and works. For by "judgments" is meant that which in his view is right or wrong; what pleases or does not please him; what merits his praise or his censure; in short, what we should follow or avoid. Again, by "his ways" is meant that which he will manifest unto men and how he will deal with them. These things men cannot and would not discover by their own reason, nor search out by their own intellect, and never should they oppose their judgments or speculations to God. It is not for them to say what is right or wrong, whether an act or ruling is divine. They should humble themselves before him and acknowledge that they cannot understand, they cannot teach God in such matters; they should give him, as their God and Creator, the honor of better understanding himself and his purposes than do we poor, miserable worms. "For who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counselor? or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again?" 27. Paul states three propositions which take away from the world all its boasting concerning divine things: To know the mind of the Lord--what are his thoughts and purposes, or what he has determined within himself from eternity; to be his counselor--advising or showing him what to do and how to do it; to give to him--assisting him, by one's own ability, to accomplish his divine purpose. All this is impossible to human nature; it cannot know his mind, and how much less will it be able, with all of its wisdom and activity, to counsel him or give him anything. 28. Therefore, it is a shameful presumption on the part of the world to presume by its own powers to ascertain and discover God's essence, his will and works, and to counsel him as to his duties and pleasures; and shameful is it that it presumes with its works to have merited something from him, and to have earned a recompense; shameful presumption to expect to be honored as having achieved much for God's kingdom and for the Church--strengthening and preserving them and filling heaven with holiness! 29. God must defeat minds so perverted. In his administration he must disregard their opinions and attempts. Thus, being made fools by their own wisdom, they may stumble and be offended at it. So would God, by showing us the realities, convince us of the futility of our own endeavors and lead us to acknowledge that we have not fathomed his mind, his counsel and will, and that we cannot counsel him. No man or angel has ever yet first thought out for God his counsel, or offered suggestion to him. Much less is he compelled to call us into counsel, or recompense us for anything we have given to him. THREE CLASSES OF PEOPLE. 30. There are three different kinds of people on earth, among whom Christians must live. The first of these are that rude class which is unconcerned about the nature of God and how he rules. They have no regard for God's Word. Their faith is only in their mammon and their own appetites. They think only of how they may live unto themselves, like swine in the sty. To such we need not preach anything of this text: "O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and the knowledge of God." They would understand nothing of it though we were to preach it to them everlastingly. They would rather hear of the husks and swill with which they fill themselves. Therefore we will let them remain the swine that they are, and separated from others as they are. But it is exasperating to have to encounter them among Christians. 31. The second class are they who are still reasonable, concerning themselves, about God's purposes and their fulfilment, and how we may be saved. The heathen, and even we ourselves when under the papacy, contended, according to reason, over these things. Here is the beginning of all idolatry on earth; everyone teaches of God according to his own opinion. Mohammed says: He that believes his Koran and its doctrines is pleasing to God. A monk: He that is faithful to the order and its regulations will be saved. The Pope: He who observes his prescriptions and ritual, who makes a pilgrimage to the apostles at Rome, buys himself an indulgence; he has acquired the forgiveness of sins: but he who neglects it is under the wrath of God. These observances they call judgments and ways, controlling consciences and directing them to eternal life; and they imagine that they are God's judgments and ways. 32. On the contrary, the Word declares that God wants none of these things; that they are error and darkness and a vain service--idolatry, which he hates and which provokes him to the utmost. All must acknowledge who have practiced their own self-appointed observances for any length of time, that they have no real assurance that God will be gracious unto them and take pleasure in them because of their lives and observances. Yet, in their blind delusion and presumption, they go on in their vagaries till God touches their hearts by a revelation of his law; then, alarmed, they must admit that they have lived without a knowledge of God and of his will, and that they have no counsel or help unless they lay hold on the words of the Gospel of Christ. 33. We were all like that heretofore. Even I, a learned doctor of divinity, did not know better. I imagined that with my monk's cowl I was pleasing to God and on the way to heaven. I thought that I knew the mind of God well. I wanted to be his counselor, and to earn a recompense of him. But now I realize that my belief was false; it was blindness. I know that I must learn from his Word; that nothing else avails before him but faith in the crucified Christ, his Son; and that in such faith we must live, and do as our respective callings or positions require. Thus we may know right and wrong in God's sight; for our knowledge is not of our own invention, but we have it from revelation. By revelation God shows us his mind; as Saint Paul says (1 Cor 2, 16): "We have the mind of Christ." And again (verse 10): "But unto us God revealed them through the Spirit." 34. The third class are those who transgress, having knowledge. They have the Word of revelation. I am not now speaking of those who knowingly persecute the truth--those of the first class, who are unconcerned about God--but I am speaking of those who recognize the revelation but are led by the devil to override it and go around it. They would conceive ways and judgments of God that he has not revealed. If they were Christians, they would be satisfied and thank God for having given us his Word, in which he shows us what is pleasing to him and how we may be saved. But instead, they allow themselves to be led by the devil to seek for other revelations and to speculate on what God in his invisible majesty is, and how he secretly governs the world, and what he has determined in regard to the future of each particular individual. And so presumptuous is our human nature that it would even interfere, with its wisdom, in God's judgment, and intrude into his most secret counsel, attempting to teach him and direct him. It was because of his arrogance that the devil was cast out into the abyss of hell; because he aspired to interference in the affairs of divine majesty, and would drag down man in the fall with himself. So did he cause man to fall in paradise, and so did he tempt the saints; and so he tempted Christ himself when he set him on the pinnacle of the temple. 35. Against this third class Saint Paul directs his words, in answer to the impudent questions of wise reason as to why God punished and rejected the Jews, as he did, and allowed the condemned heathen to come into the Gospel grace; why he so administers justice as to exalt the godless and allow the godly to suffer and be oppressed; why he elected Judas as an apostle and afterwards rejected him and accepted a murderer and malefactor. With these words Saint Paul would command the wise to cease their impertinent strivings after the things of the secret majesty, and to confine themselves to the revelation he has given us; for all such searching and prying will be in vain and harmful. Though you were to search forever you would nowhere attain the secrets of God's purposes, but would only risk your soul. 36. If you, therefore, would proceed wisely, you cannot do better than to be interested in the Word and in God's works. In them he has revealed himself, and in them he may be comprehended. For instance, he manifests his Son, Christ, to you, on the cross. This is the work of your redemption. In it you may truly apprehend God, and learn that he will not condemn you on account of your sins, if you believe, but will give you everlasting life. So Christ tells you: "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have eternal life." Jn 3, 16. In this Christ, says Saint Paul (Col 2, 3), are all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge hidden. Herein you will have more than enough to learn, to study and ponder. You will marvel at the wonderful revelation of God, and you will learn to delight in and love him. It is a mine which can never be exhausted in this life by study, and in the contemplation of which, as Peter says (1 Pet 1, 12), even the angels never tire, but find unceasing joy and pleasure. 37. I say this so that we may be prepared to instruct and direct those we may meet who, assailed and tormented by such thoughts of the devil, are led to tempt God. They are beguiled by the devil to search and grope, in his false ways, after what may be the intention of God concerning them, and thereby they are led into such apprehension and despair that they are unable to endure it. Such individuals must be reminded of these words, and be reproved by them. So did Paul reprove the Jews and cavilers of his day when they presumed to comprehend God with their wisdom, to instruct him as his counselors and masters, to deal with him directly themselves, without any mediator, and to render him such service that he would owe them a recompense. Nothing will come of such searching. Against its endeavors he has erected barriers that, with all your striving, you will never be able to overcome. And so infinite are his wisdom, his counsel and riches, that you will never be able to fathom nor exhaust them. You ought to rejoice that he gives you some knowledge of his omnipotence in his revelation, as follows: "For of him, and through him, and unto him, are all things. To him be the glory for ever." 38. Why should we boast, he would say here, when everything that has being--and our own wisdom and capabilities, of course--did not originate itself but had its origin in him and must be preserved by him, must exist through him? He says (Acts 17, 28): "For in him we live, and move, and have our being." And again (Ps 100, 3): "It is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves." That is, what we are and are able to do, and the fact that we live and have peace and protection--in short, all the good or evil that happens to us--comes to pass not by accident or chance. It all proceeds from his divine counsel and good pleasure. He cares for us as his people and flock. He governs us and gives us good things. He aids and preserves us in every time of need. Therefore, all honor and glory are due to him alone, from his creatures. EVERYTHING IS OF GOD. 39. But when he says, Of him, through him, in him, are all things--he says in the simplest way that the beginning, middle and end is of God; that all creatures have their origin in him, also their growth and their limitations. To illustrate: Every little grain of corn has its beginning. A root springs from the dead seed in the ground; then a shoot comes forth and becomes a stalk, a leaflet, an ear of corn, and here it pauses, having the three parts it is intended to have. All creatures also have their beginning, their continuation and end, filling up the period of their existence. When this order ceases, every creature will cease to exist. That which has a beginning and grows but does not attain its end, does not reach perfection, is nothing. To sum it all up, everything must be of God. Nothing can exist without origin in him. Nothing that has come into being can continue to exist without him. He has not created the world as a carpenter builds a house and, departing, leaves it to stand as it may. God remains with and preserves all things which he has made; otherwise they would not continue to exist. 40. Saint Paul does not simply say--as he does elsewhere--Of him are all things. He adds two other assertions, making a triple expression, and then unites the three thoughts into one whole when he says, "To him be the glory for ever." No doubt it was his intention therewith to convey the thought of this article of faith and to distinguish the three persons of the Godhead, even though he does not mention them by name, which is not necessary here. The ancient teachers also looked upon this passage as a testimony to the Holy Trinity. Their analysis was: All things are created by God the Father through the Son--even as he does all things through the Son--and are preserved, in God's good pleasure, through the Holy Spirit. So Paul is wont to say elsewhere; for example (1 Cor 8, 6): "There is one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we unto him; and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things." And concerning the Holy Spirit, Genesis 1, 31 says: "And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good." 41. The Scriptures teach us that all creation is the work of one God, or the whole Godhead; and yet, inasmuch as they make a distinction between the three persons of the one Godhead, we may properly say that everything had its origin, everything exists and continues, in the Father as the first person; through the Son, who is of the Father; and in the Holy Spirit, who proceeds from both the Father and the Son; which three, nevertheless, are comprehended in the one undivided essence. 42. But how such a distinction of persons exists in the divine essence from eternity is a mystery which we shall and must leave unsolved. For we cannot, with our crude understanding, even fathom God's creatures; no creature is wise enough to understand these three parts of itself--the beginning, the middle and the end. Though they are distinct from each other, nevertheless they are so closely connected that we cannot with our physical senses separate one from the other. Who has ever been able to discover or explain the process by which a leaflet grows from a tree, or a tiny grain of corn becomes a root, or a cherry grows from the blossom to wood and kernel? Again, who can explain how the bodily members of a human being manifestly grow; what the sight of the eye is; how the tongue can make such a variety of sounds and words, which enter, with marvelous diversity, into so many ears and hearts? Much less are we able to analyze the inner workings of the mind--its thoughts, its meditations, its memory. Why, then, should we presume, with our reason, to compass and comprehend the eternal, invisible essence of God? _Trinity Sunday_ Second Sermon. Text: Romans 11, 33-36. THE DOCTRINE OF THE TRINITY.[1] [Footnote 1: This sermon was first printed in 1535, at Wittenberg.] 1. This festival requires us to instruct the people in the dogma of the Holy Trinity, and to strengthen both memory and faith concerning it. This is the reason why we take up the subject once more. Without proper instruction and a sound foundation in this regard, other dogmas cannot be rightly and successfully treated. The other festivals of the year present the Lord God clothed in his works and miracles. For instance: on Christmas we celebrate his incarnation; on Easter his resurrection from the dead; on Whitsunday the gift of the Holy Spirit and the establishment of the Christian Church. Thus all the other festivals present the Lord in the guise of a worker of one thing or another. But this Trinity Festival discloses him to us as he is in himself. Here we see him apart from whatever guise assumed, from whatever work done, solely in his divine essence. We must go beyond and above all reason, leaving behind the evidence of created things, and hear only God's own testimony concerning himself and his inner essence; otherwise we shall remain unenlightened. 2. Upon this subject the foolishness of God and the wisdom of the world conflict. God's declaration that he is one God in three distinct persons, the world looks upon as wholly unreasonable and foolish; and the followers of mere reason, when they hear it, regard every one that teaches or believes it as no more than a fool. Therefore this article has been assailed continually, from the times of the apostles and the fathers down to the present day, as history testifies. Especially the Gospel of St. John has been subjected to attack, which was written for the special purpose of fortifying this dogma against the attacks of Cerinthus the heretic, who in the apostolic age already attempted to prove from Moses the existence of but one God, which he assigned as reason that our Lord Jesus cannot be true God on account of the impossibility of God and man being united in one being. Thus he gave us the prattle of his reason, which he made the sole standard for heaven to conform to. 3. O shameless reason! How can we poor, miserable mortals grasp this mystery of the Trinity? we who do not understand the operation of our own physical powers--speech, laughter, sleep, things whereof we have daily experience? Yet we would, untaught by the Word of God, guided merely by our fallible head, pronounce upon the very nature of God. Is it not supreme blindness for man, when he is unable to explain the most insignificant physical operation daily witnessed in his own body, to presume to understand something above and beyond the power of reason to comprehend, something whereof only God can speak, and to rashly affirm that Christ is not God? 4. Indeed, if reason were the standard of judgment in such matters, I also might make a successful venture; but when the conclusions of even long and mature reflections upon the subject are compared with Scripture, they will not stand. Therefore we must repeat, even though a mere stammering should be the result, what the Scriptures say to us, namely: that Jesus Christ is true God and that the Holy Spirit is likewise true God, yet there are not three Gods; not three divine natures, as we may speak of three brothers, three angels, three suns, three windows. There is one indivisible divine essence, while we recognize a distinction as to the persons. SCRIPTURE PROOF THAT CHRIST IS GOD. Paul, speaking of Christ in Hebrews 1, 3, refers to him as the express image of God's substance. Again, in Colossians 1, 15 he says of Christ: "Who is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation." We must take these words for what they say--that all creatures, even angels and men, are ranked below Christ. This classification leaves room for God only: taking away the creature, only God remains. It is one and the same thing, then, to say that Christ is the firstborn of all creatures and that Christ is true and essential God. 5. To make the matter as clear as possible Paul uses the expression "image of the invisible God." If Christ be the image of God he must be a person distinct from him whose image he is, but at the same time in one divine essence with the Father. He and the Father are not one person, but two, and yet Christ could not be the express image of the Father's person, or essence, if he were not equally divine. No creature can be an image of the divine essence, for it does not possess that essence. To repeat, Christ could not be called the express image of God if he and the Father were not distinct persons; there must be one imaged and one who is the image. Expressed more clearly and according to Scripture, one person is the Father, who in eternity begets the other; the other is the Son, begotten in eternity, yet both are equally eternal, mighty, wise and just. 6. Though the Jews and Turks ridicule our doctrine, as if we taught the existence of three brothers in heaven, it does not signify. Might I also cavil were it to serve any purpose here. But they do us wrong and falsify our teaching; for we do not conceive of the Trinity as in the nature of three men or of three angels. We regard it as one divine essence, an intimacy surpassing any earthly unity. The human body and soul are not so completely one as the Triune God. Further, we claim the Holy Scriptures teach that in the one divine essence, God the Father begot a son. Before any creature was made, before the world was created, as Paul says, "before the foundation of the world," in eternity, the Father begot a Son who is equal with him and in all respects God like himself. Not otherwise could Paul call Christ the express image of the invisible God. Thus it is proven that the Father and the Son are distinct persons, and that nevertheless but one God exists, a conclusion we cannot escape unless we would contradict Paul, and would become Jews and Turks. PAUL AND MOSES AGREE IN TESTIMONY. 7. Again, Paul makes mention of Christ in different phrase, saying: "Neither let us tempt Christ, as some of them also tempted, and were destroyed of serpents." 1 Cor 10, 9. Now, keeping this verse in mind, note how Paul and Moses kiss each other, how clearly the one responds to the other. For Moses says (Num 14, 22): "All those men ... have tempted me these ten times, and have not hearkened to my voice," and in this connection the speaker is represented by the term "Lord," everywhere in the Bible printed by us in capitals to indicate a name belonging only to the Eternal, applicable to none but the one true God. Other terms used to designate God are sometimes applied also to men, but this word "Lord" refers only to God. Now, Moses says: "And the Lord [Adonai, the true God] said ... All these men ... have tempted me these ten times." Then comes Paul explaining who this God is--saying they tempted "Christ." Crawl through this statement if you may; the fact remains that Paul declares it was Christ who was tempted, and Moses makes him the one eternal and true God. Moreover, Christ was not at that time born; no, nor were Mary and David. Nevertheless, the apostle plainly says, They tempted Christ, let us not also tempt him. 8. Certainly enough, then, Christ is the man to whom Moses refers as God. Thus the testimony of Moses long before is identical with that of Paul. Though employing different terms, they both confess Christ as the Son of God, born in eternity of the Father, in the same divine essence and yet distinct from him. You may call this difference what you will; we indicate it by the term "person." True, we do not make a wholly clear explanation of the mystery; we but stammer when speaking of a "Trinity." But what are we to do? we cannot better the attempt. So, then, the Father is not the Son, but the Son is born of the Father in eternity; and the Holy Spirit proceeds from God the Father and God the Son. Thus there are three persons, and yet but one God. For what Moses declares concerning God Paul says is spoken of Christ. 9. The same argument substantially Paul employs in Acts 20, 28, when, blessing the Church of Miletus and exhorting the assembled ministers concerning their office, he says: "Take heed unto yourselves, and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit hath made you bishops, to feed the church of the Lord which he purchased with his own blood." This, too, is a significant text, proving beyond all controversy that Christ our Lord, who purchased the Church with his blood, is truly God, and to him the Church belongs. For the apostle plainly asserts it was God who bought the Church with his blood and that the Church is his own. Now, in view of the fact already established that the persons are distinct, and of the further statement that God has purchased the Church through his own blood, we inevitably conclude that Christ our Saviour is true God, born of the Father in eternity, and that he also became man and was born of the Virgin Mary in time. 10. If such blood--the material, tangible, crimson blood, shed by a real man--is truly to be called the blood of God, then he who shed it must be actually God, an eternal, almighty person in the one divine essence. In that case we truly can say the blood flowing from the side of the crucified One and spilled upon the ground is not merely the blood of an ordinary man, but God's own. Paul does not indulge in frivolous talk. He speaks of a most momentous matter; and he is in dead earnest when he in his exhortation reminds us that it is an exalted office to rule the Church and to feed it with the Word of God. Lest we toy in the performance of such an office we are reminded that the flock is as dear to him as the blood of his dear Son, so precious that all creatures combined can furnish no equivalent. And if we are indolent or unfaithful, we sin against the blood of God and become guilty of it, inasmuch as through our fault it has been shed in vain for the souls which we should oversee. 11. There are many passages of similar import, particularly in the Gospel of John. So we cannot evade the truth but must say God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit are three individual persons, yet of one divine essence. We do not, as the Jews and Turks derisively allege, worship three Gods; we worship only one God, represented to us in the Scriptures as three persons. Christ said to Philip (Jn 14, 9), "He that hath seen me hath seen the Father." There Christ claims unity and equality with the Father in the one divine essence. So does Paul in Colossians 1, 15, where he calls Christ "the image of the invisible God," at the same time indicating two distinct persons: the Father is not the Son and the Son is not the Father, yet they are one God. Such passages, I say, are frequent. By means of them the sainted fathers valiantly maintained this dogma of the Trinity against the devil and the world, thus making it our heritage. 12. Now, what care we that reason should regard it as foolishness? It requires no skill to cavil over these things; I could do that as well as others. But, praise God, I have the grace to desire no controversy on this point. When I know it is the Word of God that declares the Trinity, that God has said so, I do not inquire how it can be true; I am content with the simple Word of God, let it harmonize with reason as it may. And every Christian should adopt the same course with respect to all the articles of our faith. Let there be no caviling and contention on the score of possibility; be satisfied with the inquiry: Is it the Word of God? If a thing be his Word, if he has spoken it, you may confidently rely upon it he will not lie nor deceive you, though you may not understand the how and the when. Since, then, this article of the Holy Trinity is certified by the Word of God, and the sainted fathers have from the inception of the Church chivalrously defended and maintained the article against every sect, we are not to dispute as to how God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit are one God. This is an incomprehensible mystery. It is enough that God in his Word gives such testimony of himself. Both his nature and its revelation to us are far beyond our understanding. PHYSICAL LIFE INEXPLICABLE TO REASON. 13. And why should you presume to comprehend, to exactly understand, the sublime, inconceivable divine essence when you are wholly ignorant of your own body and life? You cannot explain the action of your laughter, nor how your eyes give you knowledge of a castle or mountain ten miles away. You cannot tell how in sleep one, dead to the external world, is yet alive. If we are unable to understand the least detail of our physical selves, anything so insignificant as the growth of a mere hair, for instance, can we, unaided by the revelation of God's Word, climb by reason--that reason so blind to things within its natural realm--into the realm of heavenly mysteries and comprehend and define God in his majesty? If you employ reason from mere love of disputation, why not devote it to questions concerning the daily workings of your physical nature? for instance, where are the five senses during sleep? just how is the sound of your own laughter produced? We might without sin occupy ourselves with such questions. But as to the absolute truth in a matter such as this, let us abide patiently by the authority of the Word. The Word says that Christ is the express image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creatures; in other words, he is God equally with the Father. 14. Again, John 5, 23 testifies that all should honor the Son as they honor the Father. And in John 12, 44 we read: "He that believeth on me, believeth not on me, but on him that sent me." Also, John 14, 1: "Believe in God, believe also in me." And again, John 16, 15: "All things whatsoever the Father hath are mine." These and similar passages are armor that cannot be pierced: for they are uttered by God, who does not lie and who alone is qualified to speak the truth concerning himself. Thus the dogma of the Trinity is thoroughly founded upon the holy Scriptures. THE THIRD PERSON OF THE TRINITY. 15. Now, having established the existence of Christ in the Trinity, we must next consider the third person, the Holy Spirit, in Scripture sometimes termed the "Spirit" of God and sometimes his "Soul." This person is not spoken of as "born"; he is not born like the Son, but proceeds from the Father and the Son. To express it differently, he is a person possessing in eternity the divine essence, which he derives from the Father and Son in unity in the same way the Son derives it from the Father alone. There are, then, three distinct persons in one divine essence, one divine majesty. According to the Scripture explanation of the mystery, Christ the Lord is the Son of God from eternity, the express image of the Father, and equally great, mighty, wise and just. All deity, wisdom, power and might inherent in the Father is also in Christ, and likewise in the Holy Spirit, who proceeds from Father and Son. Now, when you are asked to explain the Trinity, reply that it is an incomprehensible mystery, beyond the understanding of angels and creatures, the knowledge of which is confined to the revelations of Scripture. 16. Rightly did the fathers compose the Creed, or Symbol, in the simple form repeated by Christian children: "I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ his only Son ... I believe in the Holy Ghost." This confession we did not devise, nor did the fathers of former times. As the bee collects honey from many fair and gay flowers, so is this Creed collected, in appropriate brevity, from the books of the beloved prophets and apostles--from the entire holy Scriptures--for children and for unlearned Christians. It is fittingly called the "Apostle's Symbol," or "Apostle's Creed." For brevity and clearness it could not have been better arranged, and it has remained in the Church from ancient time. It must either have been composed by the apostles themselves or it was collected from their writings and sermons by their ablest disciples. 17. It begins "I believe." In whom? "In God the Father." This is the first person in the Godhead. For the sake of clear distinction, the peculiar attribute and office in which each person manifests himself is briefly expressed. With the first it is the work of creation. True, creation is not the work of one individual person, but of the one divine, eternal essence as such. We must say, God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit created heaven and earth. Yet that work is more especially predicated of the person of the Father, the first person, for the reason that creation is the only work of the Father in which he has stepped forth out of concealment into observation; it is the first work wrought by the divine Majesty upon the creature. By the word "Father" he is particularly and rightly distinguished from the other persons of the Trinity. It indicates him as the first person, derived from no other, the Son and the Holy Spirit having existence from him. 18. Continuing, the Creed says, I believe in another who is also God. For to believe is something we owe to no being but God alone. Who is this second person? Jesus Christ, God's only begotten Son. Christians have so confessed for more than fifteen hundred years; indeed, such has been the confession of believers from the beginning of the world. Though not employing precisely these words, yet this has been their faith and profession. 19. The first designation of God the Son makes him the only Son of God. Although angels are called sons of the Lord our God, and even Christians are termed his children, yet no one of these is said to be the "only" or "only-begotten" Son. Such is the effect of Christ's birth from the Father that he is unequaled by any creature, not excepting even the angels. For he is in truth and by nature the Son of God the Father; that is, he is of the same divine, eternal, uncreated essence. 20. Next comes the enumeration of the acts peculiar to him: "Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead and buried. He descended into hell; on the third day he rose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead." The distinct personality of the Son is thus demonstrated by acts peculiar to himself. Not the Father and not the Holy Spirit, but the Son alone, assumed human nature of flesh and blood, like unto ours, to suffer, die, rise again and ascend into heaven. 21. In the third place we confess, "I believe in the Holy Ghost." Here again a distinct person is named, yet one in divine essence with the Father and the Son; for we must believe in no one but the true God, in obedience to the first commandment: "I am Jehovah thy God ... Thou shalt have no other gods before me." Thus briefly this confession comprehends the unity of the divine essence--we accept and worship only one God--and the revealed truth that in the Trinity are three distinct persons. The same distinction is indicated in holy baptism; we are baptized into the faith of one God, yet Christ commands us to baptize "into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." 22. The peculiarity of this third person is the fact that he proceeds from both the Father and the Son. He is therefore called also the Spirit of the Father and the Son; he is poured into the human heart and reveals himself in the gathering of the Church of Christ in all tongues. Through the Word of the Gospel he enlightens and kindles the hearts of men unto one faith, sanctifying, quickening and saving them. 23. So the Creed confesses three persons as comprehended in one divine essence, each one, however, retaining his distinct personality; and in order that the simple Christian may recognize that there is but one divine essence and one God, who is tri-personal, a special work, peculiar to himself, is ascribed to each person. And such acts, peculiar to each person, are mentioned for the reason that thus a confusion of persons is avoided. To the Father we ascribe the work of creation; to the Son the work of Redemption; to the Holy Spirit the power to forgive sins, to gladden, to strengthen, to transport from death to life eternal. The thought is not that the Father alone is the Creator, the Son alone Redeemer and the Holy Spirit alone Sanctifier. The creation and preservation of the universe, atonement for sin and its forgiveness, resurrection from the dead and the gift of eternal life--all these are operations of the one Divine Majesty as such. Yet the Father is especially emphasized in the work of creation, which proceeds originally from him as the first person; the Son is emphasized in the redemption he has accomplished in his own person; and the Holy Spirit in the peculiar work of sanctification, which is both his mission and revelation. Such distinction is made for the purpose of affording Christians the unqualified assurance that there is but one God and yet three persons in the one divine essence--truths the sainted fathers have faithfully gathered from the writings of Moses, the prophets and the apostles, and which they have maintained against all heretics. 24. This faith has descended to us by inheritance, and by his power God has maintained it in his Church, against sects and adversaries, unto the present time. So we must abide by it in its simplicity and not be wise. Christians are under the necessity of believing things apparently foolish to reason. As Paul says (1 Cor 1, 21): "It was God's good pleasure through the foolishness of the preaching to save them that believe." How can reason adapt itself to comprehend that three are one, and one is three; that God became man; that he who is washed with water in obedience to Christ's command, is washed with the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ and cleansed from all sins? Such articles of faith appear utterly foolish to reason. Paul aptly calls the Gospel foolish preaching wherewith God saves such as do not depend on their own wisdom but simply believe the Word. They who will follow reason in the things dealt with in these articles, and will reject the Word, shall be defeated and destroyed in their wisdom. 25. Now, we have in the holy Scriptures and in the Creed sufficient information concerning the Holy Trinity, and all that is necessary for the instruction of ordinary Christians. Besides, the divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ and that of the Holy Spirit is also attested by miracles not to be lightly esteemed nor disregarded. The Lord our God brings to pass miraculous things for the Christian's sake--for the strengthening of his faith--and not merely as a rebuke to false teachers. Were he to consider the false teachers alone, he might easily defer their retribution to the future life, since he permits many other transgressors to go unpunished for ten, twenty or thirty years. But the fact is, God openly in this life lays hold upon leaders of sects who blaspheme and slander him with their false doctrines. He inflicts upon them unusual punishments for the sake of warning others. Besides being openly convicted of blasphemy and having the condemnation of their own conscience, the misguided ones receive testimony to the fact that these false leaders are instigators of blasphemy against God's name and his Word. All men are compelled to admit God can have no pleasure in their doctrine, since he visits them with special marks of his displeasure, destroying them with severer punishments than ordinarily befall offenders. 26. History records that John the evangelist had as contemporary a heretic, by the name of Cerinthus, who was the first to arise in opposition to the apostolic doctrine and in blasphemy against the Lord Jesus with the claim that Jesus is not God. This blasphemy spread to such an extent that John saw himself compelled to supplement the work of the other evangelists with his Gospel, whose distinct purpose it is to defend and maintain the deity of Christ against Cerinthus and his rabble. A feature of John's Gospel patent to all is the sublime beginning of his Gospel which renders it distinct from the others. He does not lay stress upon the miraculous doings of Christ, but upon his preaching, wherein he reveals himself powerfully as true God, born of the Father from eternity, and his equal in power, honor, wisdom, righteousness and every other divine work. With respect to John and Cerinthus it is reported that the former, having gone to a public bath with some of his disciples, became aware that Cerinthus and his rabble were there, also. Without hesitation he told his disciples to be up and away, and not to abide among blasphemers. The disciples followed his advice and departed. Immediately after their departure the room collapsed, and Cerinthus with his followers perished, not one escaping. 27. We also read concerning the heretic Arius, the chief foe of his time toward the dogma of the deity of Christ. The injury done by this man to the cause of Christ was such as to occupy the Church for four centuries after his death; and still today his heresy has not been altogether rooted out. But the Lord took the matter in hand by the performance of a miracle which could not but be understood. History records that Arius had ingratiated himself into the favor of Constantine, the emperor, and his counselors. With an oath he had succeeded in impressing them with the righteousness of his doctrine, so that the emperor gave command that Alexander, bishop of Constantinople, should recognize him as a member of the Christian Church and restore him to the priestly office. When the godly bishop refused to accede to this demand, knowing full well the purpose pursued by Arius and his followers, Eusebius and the other bishops who supported Arius threatened him with the imperial edict and expressed the determination to drive him out by force and to have Arius restored by the congregation as such. However, they gave him a day to think the matter over. 28. The godly bishop was fearful. The following of Arius was large and powerful, being supported by the imperial edict and the whole court. The bishop, therefore, resolved to seek help from God, where alone it is found in all things relating to God's honor. He fell down upon his face in the church and prayed all night long that God should preserve his name and honor by methods calculated to stem the tide of evil purpose, and to preserve Christendom against the heretics. When it was morning, and the hour had come when Alexander the bishop should either restore Arius to office or be cast out of his own, Arius convened punctually with his followers. As the procession was wending its way to the church, Arius suddenly felt ill and was compelled to seek privacy. The pompous procession halted, waiting his return, when the message came that his lungs and liver had passed from him, causing his death. The narrative comments: Mortem dignam blasphema et foetida mente--a death worthy such a blasphemous and turpid mind. 29. We see, then, that this dogma has been preserved by God first through the writings and the conflicts of the apostles, and then by miracles, against the devil and his blasphemers. And it shall be preserved in the future likewise, so that, without a trace of doubt, we may believe in God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit. This is the faith which we confess with our children daily. To guard against a mixing of persons or the abandonment of the tri-personality, three distinct acts are predicated. This should enable the common Christian to avoid confusing the persons, while maintaining the divine unity as to essence. We proclaim these things on this Sunday in order to call attention to the fact that we have not come upon this doctrine in a dream, but by the grace of God through his Word and the holy apostles and Fathers. God help us to be found constant and without blemish in this doctrine and faith to our end. Amen. _First Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 1 John 4, 16-21. 16 God is love; and he that abideth in love abideth in God, and God abideth in him. 17 Herein is love made perfect with us, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment; because as he is, even so are we in this world. 18 There is no fear in love: but perfect love casteth out fear, because fear hath punishment; and he that feareth is not made perfect in love. 19 We love, because he first loved us. 20 If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, cannot love God whom he hath not seen. 21 And this commandment have we from him, that he who loveth God love his brother also. GOD IS LOVE. This epistle text is amply expounded in the "Explanation of Certain Epistles of the Apostles" printed in other volumes. Those who wish may read there one or more sermons for themselves or their people. They are too long to insert here. _Second Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 1 John 3, 13-18. 13 Marvel not, brethren, if the world hateth you. 14 We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren. He that loveth not abideth in death. 15 Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer: and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him. 16 Hereby know we love, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. 17 But whoso hath the world's goods, and beholdeth his brother in need, and shutteth up his compassion from him, how does the love of God abide in him? 18 My little children, let us not love in word, neither with the tongue; but in deed and truth. EXHORTATION TO BROTHERLY LOVE. 1. The Epistles and Gospels selected for the Pentecost cycle of Sundays have love as their general theme. They deal not only with the love we owe to Christ and God, which is only to be thankful for the unspeakable blessing of forgiveness of sins and salvation through Christ's blood and death, but also of the love we owe our neighbor; not a love in return for favors, but one that unceasingly gives, forgives and works all good even when unrequited. 2. John here admonishes the Christian to exercise the virtue of love. Considering the evident rarity of love among men, this admonition is necessary. He particularly warns Christians not to wonder at the world's hatred and desire for their death. Such was the hate of Cain for his brother, of which the apostle has just spoken. The world's hate, it must be admitted, repels love and powerfully obstructs its exercise. 3. Is it not surpassing strange that one can hate those who love him and from whom he has received only kindness? Such wickedness is almost inconceivable, we say. What incentive is there for any to render the world service when in ingratitude it rewards love with hatred? But let us examine ourselves, who are baptized and have received the Gospel, and confess how we requite the supreme love of God in giving us his Son. What a beautiful example of glad gratitude we display! For the shame of it we ought to despise ourselves before God and his angels. And what shall we say of those who will not endure the preaching of the glorious message of God's grace and blessing, but condemn it as heresy? to whom they who seek to serve, to benefit and save the world by declaring the good news, must be, as Paul says, "as the filth of the world, the offscouring of all things," 1 Cor 4, 13. Indeed, no criminal receives more wretched and ignominious treatment and execution, of which the Pope and his followers are a case in point. THE WORLD'S HATRED. 4. While experience has proven this otherwise incredible fact, John vouchsafes the admonition notwithstanding: "Marvel not, brethren, if the world hateth you." If we are not to wonder at this, is there anything in the world to incite wonder? I should truly think the hearing of a single sermon on the grace of Christ would suffice to bring the world to receive the Gospel with intense joy and never to forget the divine mercy and blessing. It would be no wonder should the earth suddenly open and engulf mankind because of its ingratitude to God who has given his Son to become man for the purpose of redeeming us condemned mortals from sin and death and restoring us to life and salvation. Is it not a horrible thing that any man should shun and oppose such a Savior and his doctrine even more than he does the devil himself? 5. But what is God's attitude toward such conduct? Well does he say to the Jews through the prophet: "O my people, what have I done unto thee? and wherein have I wearied thee? testify against me. For I brought thee up out of the land of Egypt, and redeemed thee out of the house of bondage; and I sent before thee Moses, Aaron, and Miriam. O my people, remember now what Balak, king of Moab, devised; and what Balaam, the son of Beor, answered him; remember from Shittim unto Gilgal, that ye may know the righteous acts of Jehovah." Mic 6, 3-5. And well does Christ say to his ungrateful people: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, that killeth the prophets, and stoneth them that are sent unto her! how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!" Mt 23, 37. As if he would say, "I surely did not come to effect your death and condemnation by my message. I am about to suffer death and God's wrath for your sins. I bring you God's endless grace and blessing for time and eternity. Then why this bitter hatred against me and my message?" 6. "Since the world hates even God for his kindness," argues John, "marvel not, my beloved, that you suffer the same fate. What does it signify that I show my love by hazarding life and limb to sustain this doctrine of the Gospel and help my neighbor? Mine is but a poor, mean, uncouth, offensive love in comparison with the love that led Christ to die for me and to redeem me from eternal death. If God's supreme, unfathomable love fails to awaken the gratitude of the world, what wonder if the world hates you for all your kindness? Why will you bring down your fist and stamp your foot in anger at such ingratitude? You are yourselves of that race for whom the Son of God had to die. And even were you to die for the Gospel, your sacrifice would be as nothing in comparison to the fact that God, for the sake of the world, spared not his own Son but permitted the world to put him to death." 7. But whence arises the world's hatred? John tells us in verse twelve when he mentions the incident of Cain, who, he says, "was of the evil one, and slew his brother. And wherefore slew he him? Because his works were evil, and his brother's righteous." An excellent reason, indeed, for hating--the hater and murderer is evil and the benefactor good! In civil and domestic affairs it is the evil-doers and disobedient who incur displeasure and receive punishment; and such reward is just. But whenever God has dealings with the world, it shows what a rotten fruit it is by hating, persecuting, and putting to death as evil-doers and impostors its very benefactors. This trait it inherits, John tells us, from its ancestor Cain, the great fratricide saint. He is a true picture of the world of all times, and ever its spirit and fashion is patterned after him. 8. When mother Eve, the dear, godly woman, bore her first son, she declared in her joy and her hope of God's promise of the future seed that should bruise the serpent's head: "I have gotten a man with the help of Jehovah" (Gen 4, 1); and she named him Cain, which means "obtained," as if she would say, "I have obtained the true treasure." For she had not before seen a human being born; this was the first, precious fruit of man. Over Cain she rejoiced, pronouncing herself blessed. This son was trained in the hope that he should be a savior of the future race, a comfort to his brothers and sisters with all their offspring. Nor was he unaware of these proud hopes. Proudly he lorded it over his brother, who in contrast had to bear the ignominious name of Abel, meaning "nothing," or "vanity," as if voicing the thought of the parents' hearts: "Alas! this one has no future. Cain is the rightful heir to the blessing God has promised man; he is lord and master of his brethren." 9. It is likely that the godly father and mother for many years drew their solace from the hope placed in their first-born son, as they looked forward with intensest longing to the redemption from their deplorable fall. Doubtless they trained both sons very carefully and instructed them concerning their own sin and fall and the promise God had given them, until they were fully grown and had entered into the priestly office. Cain the first-born was particularly zealous in that respect, desiring to be first inasmuch as he offered his first fruits of the earth, given by God and obtained by his own labor, as he no doubt had seen his father offer. Abel, however, the inferior, the poor shepherd, offered the firstlings of his sheep, given him of God and obtained without effort and toil of his own. Now, God in a wonderful way manifested his preference concerning the gifts upon the altar. Fire descended from heaven and consumed Abel's offering, but Cain's remained. The fire was the sign of God's favor. The text says: "And Jehovah had respect unto Abel and to his offering: but unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect." Gen 4, 4-5. 10. Thereupon Adam and Eve saw that the hope and solace centering in their first-born son, were a delusion. They began to learn the wonderful judgments of God, who gave precedence to Abel, the male counterpart of Cinderella--which is all he was in his own sight when he compared himself with his brother. Now Cain, with full confidence in his position, spoiled by the delusion of his parents that as the first-born he was God's preference, felt himself outraged. His hypocrisy, hitherto masked, comes to the surface. He burns with secret hate against God, with hate and anger against his brother, which he takes no trouble whatever to disguise. The parents rebuke him, but effect nothing. The flame of his resentment rises higher, and meeting him alone upon the field, he fells him to the ground. Far from contemplating amendment of life or seeking grace from God, he has no mercy upon the only brother he has on earth, who has done him no harm whatever. He cannot forgive him and leave him in unenvied possession of the grace of God. 11. Such was the solace and joy poor Adam and Eve lived to experience in their first children! From this time on their earthly life was fraught with gloom and sorrow, particularly since they could not but see the source of these in their own fall and they would have pined to death had not God comforted them with another son. For when it became evident that the hope they had placed in Cain was a delusion, and that they were deprived of the son who, beyond a doubt, possessed the grace of God, they, without another son, would not have known where to look for the solace of the promised seed. CAIN THE WORLD, ABEL THE CHURCH. 12. Note, in this man Cain is pictured the world in its true, characteristic colors; in him its true spirit stands reflected. Certainly his equal has never been. In him are unquestionably prefigured the very flower, the very quintessence, of holiness on earth--the most pious servants of God. On the other hand, that poor, wretched, abject male counterpart of Cinderella, Abel, well represents the obscure little brotherhood, the Church of Christ. She must yield to Cain the lord the distinction of being everything before God, of being the recipient of every gift of God, of being entitled to all honor and every privilege. He feels important in his imagined dignity, permits this spirit to pervade his sacrifices and his worships, and thinks that God cannot but favor and accept his offering rather than that of his brother. Meanwhile, the pious Abel goes his way, meekly suffering his brother's contempt. He willingly yields Cain the honor, esteems himself vastly inferior and beholds no consolation for himself aside from the pure mercy and goodness of God. He believes in God and hopes for the promised future seed. In such faith he performs his sacrifice as a confession, a sign, of his gratitude. 13. This illustration is intended by God as solace for his little throng; for the incident is not written for Abel's sake but for the sake of the humble children of God, whose condition is like that of Abel. God has not forgotten them, though they are haughtily ignored by proud Cain, who regards them as nothing in his presence. God graciously looks upon them and rejects proud Cain with his birthright and offering. 14. Innocent Abel becomes the object of anger and hatred when the Word of God lays hold of Cain revealing God's displeasure where he had fancied himself worthy, and God's unwillingness to regard his offering and devotion as superior to this of his brother and more meritorious. Cain begins bitterly to hate and persecute his brother. He finds no rest until Abel is laid low and cut off from the earth. Now you have the cause of the world's hatred and anger against Christians; simply this, as John says of Cain: "Because his works were evil, and his brother's righteous." 15. What offense had godly Abel committed against his brother to be so hated? He had even regarded that brother as the first-born, as vastly superior to himself, and had done him all honor and loved him as became a brother. He was easily satisfied, desiring simply the grace of God. He prayed for the future seed, that is, for the salvation and happiness of his parents, his brother and the entire human race. How could Cain be unmerciful and inhuman enough in his frenzy to murder his own flesh and blood? The answer is found in the fact that the devil had filled Cain's heart with pride and vanity over his birthright. He considered himself a man of distinction, with every claim upon God's favor and sinless, whilst his brother was nothing whatever. Cain's heart is devoid of true brotherly love; he has only contempt for Abel. He cannot endure God's manifest favor toward his brother, and will not be moved by the injunction to humble himself and seek God's grace. Anger and envy possess him to the extent that he cannot tolerate his brother alive. In violation of God's commandment and his own conscience, he becomes a murderer, and then goes his way as if he had done right. 16. This is what John means when he says that Cain had no other cause for his crime than that his own works were evil and his brother's righteous. Similarly, that obedient daughter of Saint Cain, the world, hates the Christians; and for no other reason than the latter's love and goodness of heart. Witness the examples of the holy patriarchs, the prophets and, most of all, of Christ himself. 17. What sin against the world did the beloved apostles commit? They desired the injury of none, but went about in extreme poverty and toil, teaching mankind how, through faith in Christ, to be saved from the devil's kingdom and from eternal death. This the world will not hear and suffer; hence the hue and cry: "Kill, kill these people! Away with them from off the earth! Show them no mercy!" Why this hostility? Because the apostles sought to relieve the world of its idolatry and damnable doings. Such good works the world could not tolerate. What it desires is nothing but praise and commendation for its own evil doings, expecting from God the impossible endorsement, "Your deeds are good and well-pleasing to me. Pious children of mine are you. Just keep on cheerfully killing all who believe and preach my Word." 18. In the same way does the world conduct itself today with reference to our Gospel. For no other reason are we hated and persecuted than because we have, through God's grace, proclaimed his Word that recovered us from the blindness and idolatry in which we were sunken as deeply as the world, and because we desire to rescue others. That is the unpardonable sin by which we have incurred the world's irreconcilable anger and its inextinguishable hatred. It cannot permit us to live. We preach no other doctrine than faith in Christ, which our children pray and they themselves confess in words. We differ only in our claim that Christ having been crucified for us and having shed his blood to redeem us from sin and death, our salvation is not effected by our own works, or holiness or devotion. The fact that we do not regard their faithless worship equal to Christ himself, but teach men to trust in the grace of God and not their own worthiness, and to render him gratitude for his grace--this fact is intolerable to the world. It would be well for our adversaries if they would receive such teaching, since it would render them more than ever what they profess to be: our superiors in wisdom, knowledge and reputation--a claim we are willing to concede. But Cain's works are evil and Abel's righteous. The world simply cannot tolerate the Gospel, and no unity or harmony is ever to be hoped for. The world will not forsake its idolatry nor receive the faith. It would force us to renounce the Word of God and praise its Cain-like worship, or take death at their hands. 19. Therefore, John says, "Marvel not, brethren, if the world hateth you," for it is compelled to act according to the nature inherited from its father Cain. It would have all merits and concede to Abel none. The world comprises the exalted, the wise, the learned, the mighty. The Scriptures represent these as under necessity to hate and persecute the poor throng of the Church of Christ by reason of the good works done by them. They can under no consideration tolerate the idea of being taught by this despised and humble throng the doctrine of salvation through the grace and mercy of God alone, not through man's own merits. They cannot endure the teaching that their offering--the mass, regarded by the Papists as a work of superlative merit and holiness--avails nothing before God. 20. In the text the nature of the world is portrayed for our recognition. So to understand the world as to know what may be expected from it is essential and valuable knowledge for the Christian. Thus armed he will not be dismayed and become impatient of suffering, nor permit its malice and ingratitude to mislead him to hate and desire for revenge. He will keep his faith and love, suffering the world to go its way if it refuse to hear his message. The Christian should expect nothing better from the world than its bitter persecution in return for his good works and love. The Church of Christ on earth, let him remember, is never to have an easier lot. He is not to judge according to show and appearance, thinking: "They are the great throng, the wisest and cleverest people on earth; how is it possible that they should all be in error and under condemnation?" 21. It is necessarily true that discipline and peace are impossible without the most excellent, exalted, erudite, clever people--royal, princely, noble in achievement and honor. Cain is never plain and lowly. He is always eminently clever, wise, holy and in every way vastly Abel's superior. In fact, he must in himself represent all desirable things, as his name indicates. And the same characteristic is manifest in his children, who are ingenious in the invention of every variety of art. Deplorable the fact that a man of Cain's qualifications, born of godly parents and signally honored of God, should display such hatred and inhumanity toward poor Abel merely because of God's Word and Abel's faith. 22. Such knowledge is comforting to the godly little company of Christians, who are confident they have God's favor and know it to be the occasion of their persecution; they have no protection and succor but are exposed to the same fate as Abel. If they fare better, they may thank God for it. But they are ever to abide in love toward God, whose love they have received and felt, and likewise toward men, their enemies not excepted. This was Abel's way; could he have lived again, he would have kept his brotherly love for his murderer, forgiving him and even imploring God's forgiveness for him. "We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren." LOVE MOVES CHRISTIANS. 23. To abide in love should be the motive for us Christians. John contrasts it with the motive of the world in hating us--its wickedness. The world's hatred of you, as John's words imply, is not strange. The contrast between you and the world is exceedingly great. Through its own evil works, unbelief, pride, contempt for the Word and grace of God, and the persecution of the godly, the world has become by this time the victim of Satan and eternal death. It spurns all counsel and aid directed toward its rescue. Stiff-necked and hardened, under evident condemnation by its own conscience, it has chosen to persist in its doom. But we believers in Christ, God be praised! are different people. We have come forth from death; we have passed through death and entered into life through the knowledge and faith of the Son of God, who has loved us and given himself for us. 24. Such grace and goodness of God, says the apostle, should prompt you not to be offended and vanquished by the world's ingratitude, hate and malice, and thus to cease from holy endeavor and become likewise, evil, which course will result in the loss of your treasure. It is yours, not by your own effort, but by grace alone; for at one time you as well as they languished in the kingdom and power of death, in evil works, far from faith and love. Remember to comfort yourselves, therefore, with the thought of this great blessing, an advantage you enjoy above the others. What if the world, abiding in death, does hate and persecute you who abide in life? Whom can its hatred injure? It cannot take from you the life which it lacks while you possess it, nor deliver you to death, from which you have passed, through Christ. When it does its worst it may perhaps falsely slander you, or deprive you of your property, or destroy your corrupt body--the final home of maggots and in any event doomed to corruption--and thus through the death of the body help you gain true life. Thus vengeance will be yours rather than its own. Yours will be the joy of being transplanted from death into life, whereas the world must abide in death. While they of the world think to deny you both the kingdom of heaven and the kingdom of earth, they themselves lose body and soul. What more terrible retribution could their hatred and envy receive? For the sake of denying gratification to the devil and the world, and much more for your own welfare, you must not allow your persecutions to rob you of your peace and salvation, nor to lead you to lose your faith through impatience and desire for revenge. Rather, pity their wretchedness and doom. You lose nothing by their oppression; yours is the gain, theirs the loss. For the slight grief inflicted upon you with reference to body and time, it shall dearly pay both here and hereafter. 25. How do we know we have passed from death unto life? John says, because we love the brethren. Just what does he mean? Is it not our doctrine that Christ first loved us, as John elsewhere says? that before we ever loved him he died and rose again for us? When we fully believe in our Savior's love, then our own hearts respond with perfect love to God and our neighbor. Why, then, does John say, "We have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren"? 26. The explanation is found in the words "We know." John says plainly, "From the fact that we love the brethren, we know we have passed out of death into life." Love of the brethren is the test whereby we may ascertain who are the true believers. The apostle directed this epistle especially against false Christians; many there are who extol Christ, as did unbelieving Cain, and yet fail to bear the fruit of faith. John's reference is not to the means whereby we pass from sin and death to life, but to the proof whereby we may know the fact--not to the cause, but to the effect. 27. It is not sufficient to boast of having passed from death into life; there must be evidence of the fact. Faith is not an inactive and lifeless thing. When there is faith in the heart, its power will be manifest. Where power is not in evidence, all boasting is false and vain. When the human heart, in its confidence in divine mercy and love, is thrilled with spiritual comfort, and also warmed into kindness, friendliness, humility and patience towards the neighbor, envying and despising none but cheerfully serving all and ministering unto necessity even to hazarding body and life--when this is the case, then the fruits of faith are manifest. Such fruits are proof that the believer has truly passed from death into life. Had he not true faith, but doubted God's grace and love, his heart would not prompt him, by reason of his love and gratitude to God, to manifest love for his neighbor. Where man has faith, and where he realizes God's infinite mercy and goodness in raising him from death to life, love is enkindled in his heart, and he is prompted to do all manner of good, even to his enemies, as God has done to him. 28. Such is the right interpretation and understanding of John's expression: "We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren." It leaves in its integrity the foundation, justification, or deliverance from death, through faith alone. This is the first element of Christian doctrine. Granting that faith does justify, the next question is whether the faith is real or simulated, being merely a deceptive show and unsupported claim. The clear information imparted by the apostles is, that love, indeed, does not deliver from death, but that deliverance from death and the presence of life becomes a matter of sight and knowledge in that love has been wrought. With true faith we must have come to the point where we no longer, like Cain, in our pride and conceit, despise our neighbor; where we are not filled with envy, hatred and bitterness; where we desire, and to the extent of our power, promote the interests of our neighbor and work him all good. 29. John draws to a close by showing the opposite side of the picture, in that he addresses earnest words that reëcho like peals of thunder to those who make the carnal boast of being Christians while destitute of love. He cites several facts as evidence that where love is lacking, necessarily faith and deliverance from death are absent, likewise. Thus no opportunity is given for self-deception or a frivolous excuse based upon wordy boasting of one's faith. The reality of the inner life is known by the presence of love, which in turn attests the presence of faith in the heart. I. "He that loveth not abideth in death." 30. Here, in clear, decisive words, the conclusion is expressed that no man may boast of life unless he has love. If it is true that faith must be active, it is conversely true that the absence of fruitage demonstrates one's continuance in the old Cain-like manner of existence, torpid and dead, bereft of solace and the experience of God's grace and life. Let no one presume to think he has passed into life so long as he is devoid of love and the fruits of faith. Let him become serious, and in alarm make ready to become a true believer, lest he remain in eternal death and under greater condemnation than those who have never heard the Gospel. II. "Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer: and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him." 31. Still clearer and stronger becomes the argument that lack of love means continuance in death. The stern and frightful judgment is here expressed that the unloving person is no better than Cain the fratricide. His heart is under the influence of deadly hate and murderous malice against the brother who refuses to be subservient to his desires. Kindling rage will prove its existence by appropriate works unless restrained by the fear of disgrace and punishment. He wishes his brother nothing good, but rejoices in his misfortune. All this, however, is impossible for one who believes that he has been delivered from death. One who knows the wretchedness and misery of death from experience, but has entered upon life with its solace and joy, blessings he seeks to maintain--such a person will desire for others the same blessing; he cannot rejoice in another's death. Therefore it is true conversely: "We know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him." HATRED NATURAL TO HUMAN REASON. 32. Thus we see the nature of the human heart without faith and the knowledge of Christ; at bottom it is but the heart of a Cain, murderous toward its neighbor. Nor can anything better be expected from him who is not a Christian. The Scriptures repeatedly denounce such faithless hypocrites as bloodthirsty and deceitful. "Jehovah abhorreth the bloodthirsty and deceitful man." Ps 5, 6. "For their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed blood." Prov 1, 16. See also verse 11. All mankind are by nature the children of the murderer Cain. They are, of course, no better than their father. While Cain was a man most magnificent, intelligent and wise, being the first fruit born of those holy parents Adam and Eve, and in his superior endowment with natural virtues infinitely superior to all who come after him, he was nevertheless an unbeliever before God. Hence he became the murderer of his brother. III. "Hereby know we love, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. But whoso hath the world's goods, and beholdeth his brother in need, and shutteth up his compassion from him, how doth the love of God abide in him?" 33. These words delineate true Christian love and hold up the sublime example, or pattern, of God's love manifest in Christ. Christ's blood and death is God's own blood and death. Paul in Acts 20, 28, speaks of God having purchased the Church "with his own blood." The heart of man by faith receives and apprehends this sacrifice. Under its transforming influence he is disposed to work good to his neighbor as he has himself received good. He even jeopardizes his life to that end, being conscious of his redemption from eternal death, and knowing physical death powerless to affect his eternal life. But the heart that fails to appropriate Christ's sacrifice is without faith and insensible to God's love and eternal life. 34. John uses an illustration plain enough for anyone to understand, and from which we may judge that the soul found wanting in small duties will be deficient in great ones. According to the apostle, if one possesses this world's goods and sees his neighbor want, he being able to render assistance without injury to himself, and yet closes his heart against that neighbor, not assisting him with even the slightest work of love, how can the love of God dwell in him since he appreciates it so little that he will not spare his needy brother a penny? How can he be expected, then, to render a greater service--to even lay down his life for his brother? What right has such a soul to boast--how can he know--that Christ has laid down his life for him and delivered him from death? 35. How frequently are such people to be found! Having this world's goods and being able to help the needy, they close their hearts against the unfortunate, as did the rich glutton toward poor Lazarus. Where shall we find in imperial courts, among kings, princes and lords, any who extend a helping hand to the needy Church, or give her so much as a crust of bread toward the maintenance of the poor, of the ministry and of schools, or for other of her necessities? How would they measure up in the greater duty of laying down their lives for the brethren, and especially for the Christian Church? Note the terrible judgment that they who are devoid of brotherly love are in God's sight murderers and cannot have eternal life. 36. But the merely selfish may well escape our censure in comparison with those who not only close their purses to the poor but shamelessly and forcibly deprive and rob their needy neighbor of his own by overreaching, by fraud, oppression and extortion; who take from the Church the property rightfully hers and especially reserved for her, snatching the bread from her mouth, so to speak. Not only is the papistical rabble today guilty of such sin, but many who would be known as evangelical practice the same fraud with reference to the parochial estates and general property of the Church, and, in addition, tyrannically harass and torment the poor ministers. But oh, how heavy and terrible the impending judgment for those who have denied to Christ the Lord in his thirst even the cup of cold water! IV. "My little children, let us not love in word, neither with the tongue; but in deed and truth." 37. The world and the false Christians in word pretend great love; but in practice, when love should manifest itself in deeds, it is found to be insincere. So John admonishes that where our love is not ardent enough to lead us to lay down our lives for our brethren, however much we may profess Christ, that love is assuredly only a vain show, a false pretense, wherewith we deceive ourselves and remain in infidelity and death, and in a more deplorable condition than those who are wholly ignorant of the Gospel. Therefore, let him who would proceed safely and prove himself a Christian remember to prove himself such by his deeds and works. Then men will know that he does not, a murderer and liar, like others, follow the devil. They will know, on the contrary, that he truly and with the heart clings to the Word of God, having passed from death to life. _Third Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 1 Peter 5, 5-11. 5 Likewise, ye younger, be subject unto the elder. Yea, all of you gird yourselves with humility, to serve one another: for God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble. 6 Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time; 7 casting all your anxiety upon him, because he careth for you. 8 Be sober, be watchful: your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour: 9 whom withstand stedfast in your faith, knowing that the same sufferings are accomplished in your brethren who are in the world. 10 And the God of all grace, who called you unto his eternal glory in Christ, after that ye have suffered a little while, shall himself perfect, establish, strengthen you. 11 To him be the dominion for ever and ever. Amen. HUMILITY, TRUST, WATCHFULNESS, SUFFERING 1. This is the conclusion of Saint Peter's epistle. It is an exhortation to good works, such as a Christian, or believer, should practice. It is evident that the doctrine of the Gospel is not such as is charged by some, forbidding good works, or not earnestly commanding and urging them. Most diligently and repeatedly it urges the doctrine of works--such works as are, indeed, good works. There are in this epistle four natural heads which furnish us four good sermons. I. HUMILITY. 2. The apostle has, in the verses immediately preceding our text, exhorted the elders, that is, preachers, to be in their lives "ensamples to the flock," not "lording it over the charge allotted" to them, but using their office for the service of others. And here in our text he exhorts the others, especially the young, to "be subject unto the elder." And, in general, he admonishes all to "gird" themselves "with humility, to serve one another." So Paul likewise admonishes that we should honor one another. Humility is the noblest and sweetest virtue love brings forth, and it is the most essential to peace and discipline. But especially does it become and adorn the young, making them pleasing and precious to God and men, bringing forth an abundance of good fruits. 3. If mankind could be led so to believe this that the virtue of humility would be generally practiced, it would be well everywhere. This would be a beautiful world, filled with discipline and good works. I would much prefer to see a city in which the young are reared in this virtue than a hundred monasteries of barefooted and Carthusian friars, though they lived ever so strictly. Alas! the greatest and most frequent complaint heard anywhere is concerning the disobedience, wantonness and pride of the younger generation found among all ranks. Therefore it is necessary to use all diligence that this exhortation be instilled into the hearts of the young and urged upon them, in the hope that it may benefit them. 4. First of all, Peter presents the divine command. We are not left to our own good pleasure in the matter--to show humility or not, as we please. God earnestly asks it of us, and asks that we do it lovingly and willingly. Otherwise his anger will be poured out upon us and we will have no happiness nor favor, not even among men. For everyone is a foe to pride and arrogance. These offenses are condemned by the whole world, even by strangers whom they do not concern. One may be guilty of pride and not see his own shame, yet he cannot suffer it in another; he will hate and condemn that one. This vice hurts no one save himself. He makes himself hateful and contemptible before God and men. Everyone calls him a great, proud bag of filth and cries shame upon him. God metes out judgment and scorn to him, witnessing that he will not let this vice go unpunished, but will put the offender to shame. As Peter here says: "God resisteth the proud." 5. Men should be moved by the examples which daily come to light in fulfilment of this passage. If we should have no regard for our own honor and standing before the world, neither for the contempt and the curses of all men; if the illustrious example of the noble character and eternal majesty of God's Son, our Lord, should not stir us (which ought to move us if we have one spark of Christianity in us), as we behold his unspeakable and incomprehensible humility which, rightly viewed, should melt the Christian's heart--if all this does not move us, we should be humbled by the many awful examples of God's fearful wrath which, from the beginning, he has hurled against pride. 6. What is more terrible than the eternal, irreparable fall and banishment of once lofty angelic nature that resulted when the devil robbed himself of the honor and glory enjoyed by the noble blessed spirits, and of the contemplation of eternal God, and brought upon himself everlasting and intolerable damnation by seeking to make himself equal with God, and through similar pride, led the human race to its awful fall? But what a blind, condemned creature are you, who, with your filthy, shameful pride and haughtiness, become like the spirit of evil, thereby turning all the world into your enemy and opposing yourself to the divine majesty, before which even the angels must tremble! If you have no fear of losing the favor and prayers of mankind, at least be afraid lest God send down upon your head his lightning and thunder, with which he crushes iron, rocks, and mountains, and hurl you forever into the abyss, as he hurled down the proud spirit and his angels. 7. Saint Peter exhorts both those who are in the office of the ministry, and other Christians, to whom God has given something, that they abide in their calling and office and conduct the same humbly, gladly obeying and serving others. Right here this vice of pride is the most hurtful to Christianity. For its whole government, life and essence are so ordered by God that no one should exalt himself and lord it over others, as the Pope, the true Antichrist has done. Only humility and deeds of Christian love and service should prevail in all classes and in all offices and works. PRIDE OPPOSED TO THE FIRST TABLE. 8. Pride in this order of the Church is really and directly opposed to the first table of the law. It is a genuinely devilish pride in God's name and Word on the part of such people as would be wise in matters of faith and would lord it over God's Word. They puff themselves up if, forsooth, they have a gift more than others, and they hold God and all men as nothing. This vice is common among the great, learned and wise bishops and preachers. It prevails among those who learn of them and cling to them, especially beginners who, inexperienced and undisciplined, are brought into prominence. Such puff themselves up and boast: "I also am a learned doctor. I love the Spirit and other gifts just as well as, and even in greater measure than, these preachers." So they think they deserve to be heard and honored above others. They consider themselves so wise that all the world, in comparison, are geese and fools. And the greater one's gifts, the greater and more harmful such pride. It is common in other professions, also. He who has a little ability, or bears the title of doctor, makes much ado about it, and despises others. He acts as if what he has were not given him by God, but as if it were his by nature and birth, and therefore he deserves the praise and worship of all men. Such persons do not realize they are acting in opposition to God, and that they will themselves plunge into the abyss of hell before they can hurl God down from his heavenly throne. 9. See, from the examples of our own time, how God has overthrown such people. Thomas Münzer, with his tumultuous prophets, and later the Anabaptist faction, were proud of heart, would not listen to admonition, and lo! suddenly they went down to ruin, not only in utter disgrace, but to their own miserable and eternal loss and that of many people who had been misled by them. So, too, there are at the present day many proud spirits. Some dare not yet publicly show themselves. Such as have perceived that they are learned, or are held in regard by men, thereupon grow boastful and, despite all their skill and learning, abide without the Spirit and without fruit, even if they do not work more harm in addition to bringing themselves into condemnation. 10. Thus it is in all kinds of gifts and offices where men are not God-fearing and humble. For example, those who are intrusted with the civil government--princes, counselors, lawyers (where they are not "theologians," that is, Christians)--are so insolent and proud that they imagine themselves alone to be the people, whom others are to reverence as gods. In their pride, they despise God and men, and by their arrogance they lead the land and the people to destruction. These have already the judgment upon themselves that they, as God's enemies, must be hurled down. For they have cut themselves loose from God's kingdom and grace; and the blessings of baptism and of Christ, with his suffering and blood, are lost upon them. 11. We have now shown how pride conflicts with the demands of the first table of the law. Men do not employ the spiritual treasures and gifts to God's honor nor to the good of their neighbors. Thus they mar these gifts and, in their wicked course, go to the devil, into whose likeness they have grown. PRIDE OPPOSED TO THE SECOND TABLE. 12. Further, this vice is just as general in the sphere of the second table of the law--among the common people and in the temporal life of the world, each one boasting of himself and despising others. Prince and nobleman think that all the world is nothing in comparison with themselves. Commoner and peasant, puffed up because they have much wealth, imagine they must defy everybody, and do good to nobody. These deserve to be spit upon by all men. Such pride does not become them better than ornaments of gold or silver would become an image of stone or a wooden block. Finally, the women, with their foolish pride of dress, must not be forgotten. One prides herself on being better or more beautifully adorned than her neighbor. She is, in truth, a finely decorated goose. She imagines that no other woman equals her. Yea, there is scarcely a house-servant or maid but brags over others. 13. In short, we have come to the point where all men, with their insolence and boastfulness, seek to lord it over others. None will humble himself to another. Each thinks he has full right to act as he does, and is under no obligation to yield to others. And the civil government has grown so weak that there is no hope of restraining the haughtiness of all classes, from the highest to the lowest. At last, God must strike with thunder and lightning to prove to us that he resists such people and will not tolerate pride. Therefore the young, who can still be led, should be exhorted and trained, as far as possible, to guard themselves against this vice. 14. Peter uses for his purpose a peculiar term when he says, "Gird yourselves with humility." "Gird" has the meaning of being bound or joined together most firmly; or, as a garment, most carefully woven through and through so that it cannot tear. He illustrates by this term how Christians, with all diligence, should strive after the virtue, and manifest and practice it among themselves, as if upon them as a band it was a special obligation. Thus, he says, must you be twined together and bound to each other, and your hands clasped together. So must you be joined by humility, which cannot be dissolved, dismembered, or torn, even though occasion be given one, here and there, incited by the devil, or the evil word of someone else, to fly into a passion, and grow defiant and boastful, as if to say: Must I suffer such things at the hands of this man? But rather say to yourselves. We are Christians, and must bear with each other and yield, in many things; for we are all one body, and we are placed together here on earth for the sole reason that we may, through love, serve one another. 15. And each should recognize his own weakness. He should remember that God has given others also something and can give them yet more, and that therefore he should gladly serve and yield to others, remembering that he needs their help. Each one is created for the sake of others, and we are all to serve one another. God gives the same grace and salvation to all, so that none may exalt himself above his neighbor; or, if he lift himself up, that he lose the grace conferred and fall into deeper condemnation. Therefore we must hold fast to this humility, so that the unity may not be destroyed. For Satan seeks to destroy this also, and uses every possible means to lead people to despise each other and to be proud and insolent in their treatment of each other. And these are things to which flesh and blood, even without special incitement, are inclined. Thus humility is easily and quickly lost if men are not alert to fight against the devil and their own flesh. THE BEAUTY OF HUMILITY. 16. Humility is one of the beautiful garments and ornaments with which Christians should adorn themselves before God and the world. Paul, in Colossians 3, 12, says, "Put on humility." He regards this virtue as more precious than all earthly crowns and splendor. This is the true spiritual life. It is not to be sought elsewhere, by running into the cloisters or the deserts, by putting on gray gown or cowl. Peter here admonishes all classes to cultivate this virtue. This sermon on good works concerns every station in every house, city or village. It is for all churches and schools. Children, servants and the youth should be humbly obedient to parents, superiors and the aged. On the other hand, it is for those in the higher stations of life who serve their inferiors, even the lowest. If all men so observed this virtue the world would be full of good works. For it is impossible that humility should do evil. It is profitable and pleasant to all men. 17. By this virtue, true saints and Christians can better be known than by monastic seclusion and holiness. It requires no great effort to wear a gray cowl. It is not even such a great trial to lie on the ground at night and to arise at midnight; scoundrels, thieves, and murderers must often do the same. But to wear and hold fast to this angelic garment, humility--this the world is not so willing to accept as monasticism and its works. And thus it comes to pass that flesh and blood do not strive after this holy life. Each man seeks an easy life, in which he can live to himself and need serve no one nor suffer anything at the hands of others; just as the monks have sought and chosen. 18. Peter adds to this admonition the reason: "For God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble." As I have said above, he strives to show the earnestness of God's command. The command is accompanied by a threat. He does not simply say, God punishes the proud, or God is hostile to them; but he "resisteth" them, he sets himself against them. Now, what is the pride of all men toward God? Not so much as a poor, empty bubble. Their pride puffs itself up and distends itself as though it would storm the sky and contend against the lightning and thunder, that can shatter heaven and earth. What can the combined might of all creatures accomplish if God oppose himself thereto? And how does a miserable man, whose heart is overwhelmed by a small pestilence, rise against the majesty of heaven which can, any moment, cast him down into the abyss? What are earth and ashes proud of? says Sirach, 10, 9. 19. Is it not enough and more than enough that other sin and disobedience are laid to our account, by which we anger God and merit heavy punishment, without our trying further to provoke him with our pride and haughtiness, so that he must arise in his majesty and resist us? With other sins he can have patience, that he may exhort and incite us to repentance. But if, in hardened impenitence, we defy and oppose him, he cannot but rise up against us. Who is there that will bear it, or be able to stand, when God sets his countenance and his power against a poor man already subject, every moment, to death and the power of the devil? THE CONSEQUENCE OF PRIDE. 20. From the beginning, innumerable instances in history have proved the truth of this saying, "God resisteth the proud." They show how he has always overthrown and destroyed the proud world and has cast down the haughty, scornful kings and lords. The great king of Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar, was humbled when banished from his royal throne to the companionship of the beasts of the field and compelled to eat grass with them, Dan 4, 30ff. Again, remember how suddenly the great king Alexander was hurled down, when after the victory and good fortune God had given him, he began to grow proud, and wanted to be reverenced as a god? Again, there was King Herod Agrippa, Acts 12, 23. The proud, learned emperor Julian, a virulent mocker and persecutor of Christ, whom he had denied--how soon was he drowned in his own blood! And since then, what has become of all the proud, haughty tyrants, who proposed to oppress and crush Christianity? 21. The Pope, also, has ever, in devilish pride, exalted himself, and in the temple of God set himself forth as God. Further, in worldly pomp and pride he has lifted himself above all others. He has even learned, from heathen emperors, as Diocletian and other tyrants, to have men kiss his feet. Yea, he has forced emperors and kings to submit to this humiliating act. What open, inhuman insolence and pride Pope Alexander the Third practiced when, by threatening against him his empty ban, he compelled the pious and mighty German emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, to prostrate himself at his feet while he stepped upon him and said, Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder; and when the emperor protested against such shameful pride and said, Non tibi, sed Petro (Not to thee, but to Peter), the Pope, with increasing scorn, replied, "Et mihi, et Petro" (Both to me, and to Peter). This is pride carried almost to its highest point. 22. The Turk, too, is prouder now than ever, and, I hope, has reached the heights of pride, beyond which he cannot and shall not proceed. Meantime, may he not attack and humble us! But it will come to pass, in the end, that God will overthrow both pope and Turk through his divine power, and, as Daniel says, without the aid of men. This word will not fail, "God resisteth the proud." Its truth must appear in human events, so that men may see what is meant by the declaration, "God resisteth"; otherwise no one would believe it. Though the Turk and all the world should be a thousand times more proud and powerful, this should not help them when he who is above sees and grows angry, and lifts his hand. He asks as little about the power of all Turkish emperors and of the Pope as about a dead fly. 23. "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God," Heb 10, 31. This, however, is nothing else than with scorn and defiance to oppose his will, so that he, in turn, must set himself against man and must lift his hand. Therefore, let everyone beware lest he boast and grow defiant in the presence of the divine majesty. Not only must he beware, that he may not awaken God's anger, but that he may have grace and blessing in the things he ought to do. For, if thou beginnest something in thine own power, and wisdom, and haughtiness, think not he will grant thee success and blessing to carry out thy purpose. On the other hand, if thou humblest thyself, and beginnest aught in accordance with his will, in the fear of God and trusting in his grace, there is given thee the promise, "He giveth grace to the humble." So, then, thou shalt not only have favor with men, but success shall crown thine efforts. Thou shalt prove a useful man, both to God and to the world, and shalt complete and maintain thy work despite the resistance of the devil. For where God's grace is, there his blessing and protection must follow, and his servant cannot be overthrown or defeated. Though he be oppressed for a time, he shall finally come forth again and be exalted. So Peter concludes by saying: "Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time." 24. Peter shows in these words what true humility is and whence it comes. The heart, through knowledge of its sin, becomes terrified in the presence of God's anger and anxiously seeks grace. Thus a humility is born, not merely external and before men, but of the heart and of God, from fear of God and knowledge of one's own unworthiness and weakness. He who fears God and "trembles at his word" (Is 66, 5), will surely defy or hector or boast against nobody. Yea, he will even manifest a gentle spirit toward his enemies. Therefore, he finds favor both with God and men. 25. The cause of this, Peter says, shall be "the mighty hand of God." As though he would say: Ye may not do nor leave undone this thing for the sake of men, but ye ought to humble yourselves under the hand of God. God's hand is powerful and mighty in a twofold respect: It dashes down and overthrows the proud and self-secure, however hard and iron their heads and hearts may be. They must languish in dust and ashes; yea, must lie despondent and desperate in the anguish and torments of hell, if he touch them but a little with the terrors of his anger. These are experiences through which the saints also pass, and concerning whose severity they make lamentation. "For thine arrows stick fast in me, and thy hand presseth me sore. There is no soundness in my flesh because of thine indignation," Ps 38, 2-3. "For I have eaten ashes like bread, and mingled my drink with weeping. Because of thine indignation and thy wrath: for thou hast taken me up, and cast me away," Ps 102, 9-10. "I am consumed by the blow of thy hand. When thou with rebukes dost correct man for iniquity, thou makest his beauty to consume away like a moth," Ps 39, 10-11. THE REWARD OF HUMILITY. 26. In the second place, God's hand is mighty to raise, to comfort and strengthen the humbled and the fearful, and, as Peter says here, to exalt them. Those who in terror have been cast down should not, therefore, despair, or flee before God, but rise again, and be comforted in God. God wants it preached and published that he never lays his hand upon us in order that we may perish and be damned. But he must pursue this course in order to lead us to repentance; otherwise we would never inquire about his Word and will. And if we seek grace, he is ready to help us up again, to grant us forgiveness of sins, the Holy Spirit, and eternal life. The Psalms and the Prophets here and there speak of this. "Jehovah hath chastened me sore; but he hath not given me over unto death," Ps 118, 18. "Jehovah raiseth up them that are bowed down," Ps 146, 8. 27. God will "exalt you in due time," says Peter. Though God's help be delayed, and the humbled and suffering seem to lie oppressed all too long under God's hand, and on that account to languish, nevertheless, let them hold to the promise Paul has given: God "will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able," 1 Cor 10, 13, but he will hear your cry, and will, at the right time, help; and with this let them be comforted. But again, let the proud fear, even though he permit them to go unpunished and to continue in their boastful course for a time. He watches their lives, and, when the proper time comes, he will descend all too heavily upon them, so that they cannot bear it. He has already stretched forth his mighty hand, both to cast down the godless and to exalt the humble. II. "Casting all your anxiety upon him, because he careth for you." 28. What will become of him who lives a God-fearing and humble life, suffering the insolence, pride and wantonness of the world? Or, where will he find protection and defense, to abide in his godly ways? We see daily how the pious are harassed and persecuted, and are trod on by the world. The Apostle says: "Ye Christians must endure temptation and adversity, want and need, both physical and spiritual, in the world, and your heart is oppressed with anxiety and cares, and ye think within yourselves: O, what will become of me? How shall I be supported? What if I should die?" (The world only concerns itself about how it may be enriched and be filled, and anxious, unbelieving consciences would, through themselves and their own good works, seek to have a gracious God and to die in peace.) "In view of all this," he says, "only hearken, I will counsel and instruct you aright as to what disposition you should make of your troubles." There is a brief passage in the 55th Psalm, verse 22, which reads: "Cast thy burden upon Jehovah, and he will sustain thee: he will never suffer the righteous to be moved." Follow ye this advice. Let not your burden rest upon yourselves; for ye cannot bear it, and must finally perish beneath its weight. But, confident and full of joy, cast it from you and throw it on God, and say: Heavenly Father, thou art my Lord and God, who didst create me when I was nothing; moreover hast redeemed me through thy Son. Now, thou hast committed to me and laid upon me, this office or work, and things do not go as well as I would like. There is so much to oppress and worry, that I can find neither counsel nor help. Therefore I commend everything to thee. Do thou supply counsel and help, and be thou, thyself, everything in these things. 29. Such a prayer is pleasing to God, and he tells us to do only what we are commanded, and throw upon him all anxiety as to the issue and what we shall accomplish. As also other passages of Scripture declare: "Commit thy way unto Jehovah, trust also in him, and he will bring it to pass," Ps 37, 5. No heathen, philosopher, jurist, if he have not God's Word, can throw his care and complaint upon God. He thinks that all the world, especially the great, the wise, who rule, must accomplish everything by their own planning and circumspection. And where trouble arises--for it is quite common for even the greatest and wisest people to make mistakes--he becomes a madman or a fool, and begins to murmur and argue against God and his government, as though God's rule merited criticism. But such men receive their deserts when God permits their calculations and hopes to fail, and lets the reverse obtain. For they will not admit they have need of him. They think they have sufficient wisdom and power, and that God must respect their plans. Thus, they spend their lives in many vain, useless cares and projects, and must, in the course of their experience, learn and confess, many a time, that the very opposite of their judgment is the truth. 30. Christians have the rare faculty, above all other people on earth, of knowing where to place their care, whilst others vex and torture themselves and at length must despair. Such must be the consequence of unbelief, which has no God and would provide for itself. But faith understands this word Peter quotes from the Scriptures: "Because he careth for you." It joyfully meditates thereon and does and suffers faithfully. For faith knows this to be its duty. Its trouble, however, it commits to God, and proceeds with vigor against all that opposes. It can call upon God as a father, and it says: I will do what God has commanded me and leave the result with him. 31. The Christian must take this course if he would proceed safely and happily in matters of the highest import. In time of danger and in the hour of death, when, with all his worrying, he cannot discover where he is or how he is journeying, he must, with eyes, senses and thoughts closed to the world, surrender himself in faith and confidence and cast himself upon God's hand and care and protection, and say: God has permitted me to live until this hour, without my solicitude. Moreover, he has given me his beloved Son as a treasure and sure pledge of eternal life. Therefore, my dear soul, journey on in joy. Thou hast a faithful Father and Savior, who has taken thee into his own hand, and will preserve thee. 32. The Christian Church collectively must so proceed in the discharge of its high spiritual office, of which Peter speaks here, that no man or creature, by his own wisdom and power, can sustain or accomplish any work. No power, might, or protection that can comfort, or upon which one may rely, is to be sought in the world. Wholly in God, and in God alone, must help be sought. By his divine power God must uphold the Church. He has, from the beginning, always and wonderfully preserved it in the world, in the midst of great weakness, in disunion occasioned by schismatics and heretics, in persecution by tyrants. And the government is wholly his, though he commits the office and service to men, whom he would summon and use to administer his Word and sacrament. Therefore, each Christian, especially if he fills such an office and partakes of this fellowship, should be intent, in that whereunto God has called and appointed him, upon serving God faithfully and doing that which is commanded him. The anxiety respecting the Church's continued existence and her preservation against the devil and the world, can be left to the Lord. He has taken this upon himself and thus has removed the burden from our shoulders, that we might be certain of the permanence of the Church. If its preservation were committed to human counsel, might and will, the devil, with his power, would soon overthrow and destroy it. 33. Likewise, in every office and station, each one should follow this counsel of Saint Peter. A prince should seek to protect his land and people, to promote God's Word, to maintain discipline and peace, to do justice to every man, to punish the disobedient, etc. Councils, officials, and those in authority should faithfully advise and direct to this end. Pastors and preachers should rightly and fearlessly declare God's Word and truth. Every citizen and subject should be intent upon his work and duty, and whatever, in connection therewith, is unusual he must simply commit to God. But the world does not pursue this course. Each one says: Why should I incur so much danger, opposition and hostility? Again, why should I labor and toil for naught? I will not accomplish my work at any rate. In this spirit of fear and worry, his proper office and work are delayed, or he is always careless. But let such people know that they are not Christians, nor do they promote God's kingdom or profit the offices conferred on them. If they do not propose to mend their ways, they should give up the office bestowed on them by God. It is not enough to simply sit at ease in one's office and accept the plaudits of men. We all like to render esteem and honor to office and station. But know this, that you are not in office to parade about in beautiful garments, to sit in the front row, and be called "Gracious Master" and "Esquire." You are to conduct faithfully the office with which God has clothed and honored you, regardless of human honor and profit, shame or injury. 34. But men are not generally inclined to believe and trust God. They are not inclined to remember that he cares for us; that he has assumed and must bear the greatest of burdens, which no man on earth can bear; that he cared for us before we were born, and could still, of himself, execute all things dispensing with all human help, but he prefers to accomplish his purpose through human means, and to employ us as instruments in these divine works--governing, punishing, teaching, comforting. 35. The world is particularly culpable in this matter of pride. When divinely charged with some great work, it always seeks to determine, in advance, by its own wisdom, all future danger and accidents, and tries to anticipate them. The world looks for man's help, and seeks friendship and assistance wherever it can. It makes alliances, and resorts to other schemes. It puts its trust in these and then considers itself strong enough to meet opposition, and is sure of its cause by reason of its own efforts. This is not showing faith in God. It is not committing our cause and all care for ourselves to him. It is maintaining the cause through one's own anxiety and forethought. It is ignoring and disbelieving the fact that nothing can be accomplished by one's own vexed effort. No human wisdom has power to foresee the future. If we looked back at the examples furnished by history, we should learn how woefully human wisdom is deceived when it relies upon itself. The results are not what was expected, but the very opposite. 36. The Scriptures give many pertinent examples of the kings of Judah and Israel, whom the prophets often and severely rebuked because they sought refuge and help among strange nations and kings. The prophets warned them that they should not trust in human aid, but should do according to God's Word and command. They told them he would protect and uphold them. But the kings would not hear. They continued to form friendships and alliances with the kings of Egypt, Syria, Babylon and Assyria, and thus invited them as guests into the land, whereupon the heathen kings came with force and led away captive the inhabitants and laid everything desolate. That was their reward for not heeding God's Word; for not believing that he cared for them, and desired to protect and defend them if they would but trust and obey him. The wisest and most eminent, even among the heathen, have lamented, in the light of their own experience, that they have been shamefully deluded by their counsels, even though founded on the most careful deliberations. Nor can it be said that the world has grown wiser in consequence of its own or others' sufferings. 37. This exhortation is preached to no one except the few who are Christians. They have regard for God's Word, and, now humbled, have learned that they should not rely on their own wisdom and reason, or upon human help and comfort. They have come to the belief that God cares for them. So they do what they know is right and are in duty bound to do, and suffer themselves not to be hindered by such fears as possess the world concerning dangers, injuries, and adversities. They commend all such things to God, and at his word go right through with courage. 38. Let me illustrate from my own experience. What should I have done when I began to denounce the lies of the indulgence system, and later the errors of the papacy, if I had listened and given heed to the terrible things all the world wrote and said would happen to me? How often I heard it said that if I wrote against such and such eminent people I would provoke their displeasure, which would prove too severe for me and the whole German nation. But, since I had not begun this work of myself, being driven and led thereto by reason of my office (otherwise I should have preferred to keep silence), I must continue. I commended the cause to God and let him bear the burden of care, both as to the result of the work and also as to my own fate. Thus I advanced the cause farther, despite tumultuous opposition, than I had ever before dared to think or hope. 39. Oh, how much good would God accomplish through us if people could be persuaded, especially the eminent lords and kings, that what Peter here says is true: "He careth for you!" How much he could do if they believed that truth instead of seeking, through their own wisdom and reason, to equip, strengthen, and compose themselves by aid of human might and assistance, friendship and alliance, for the accomplishment and maintenance of their cause! It is apparent that mortal plans fail and have always failed, and that they accomplish nothing. God hinders and resists man's work when he will not trust him. Hence God can grant no success or favor to that which is founded on human wisdom or on trust in human powers. This is a truth men must finally perceive by experience, and they must lament because they would not believe it. 40. Let him who would be a Christian learn to believe this. Let him practice and exhibit faith in all his affairs, bodily and spiritual, in his doing and his suffering, his living and his dying. Let him banish cares and anxious thoughts. Courageous and cheerful, let him cast them aside; not into a corner, as some vainly think to do, for when burdens are permitted to conceal themselves in the heart they are not really put away. But let the Christian cast his heart and its anxieties upon God. God is strong to bear and he can easily carry the burden. Besides, he has commanded that all this be put upon himself. The more thou layest upon him, the more pleasing it is to him. And he gives thee the promise that he will carry thy cares for thee, and all things else that concern thee. 41. This is a grand promise, and a beautiful, golden saying, if men would only believe it. If a powerful ruler here on earth were to give such a promise, and were to demand that we let him have all the concern about gold and silver and the needs of this life, how cheerfully and contentedly would every one cling to such promise! But now a greater lord says all this, one who is almighty and truthful, who has power over the body and life, and who can and will give us everything we need, both temporal and eternal. We should have in all this, if we only believed it, half of heaven, yea, a perfect paradise on earth. For what is better and nobler than a quiet, peaceful heart? For this all men are striving and laboring. So have we been doing hitherto, running to and fro after it. Yet it is found nowhere except in God's word, which bids us cast our cares and burdens on God and thus seek peace and rest. It counsels us to throw upon him everything that threatens to oppress and worry us. God would not have anxiety dwell in our hearts, for it does not belong there; it is put there by the devil. 42. Therefore, a Christian, even though obliged to suffer all manner of adversity, temptation and misfortune, can cheerfully go forward and say: Dear Lord God, thou hast commanded me to believe, to teach, to govern and to act; this I will attempt in thy name, and I will commend to thee whatever may happen to me in the course of duty. There you have a man who is equal to any task, and can do much good. For he is freed from the greatest misfortune and has laid the heaviest weight upon God, whilst another man does nothing except fill his heart with anxiety and gloom. This other can apply himself to no good work. He becomes unfit both to do and to suffer. He is afraid of every trifle and, because of his vexation or impatience, can do nothing worth mentioning. What is the world doing now? Princes, lords, counselors, citizens, and peasants--all want only power, honor, and wealth. None desires to render service. Everyone fears that this or the other thing might happen to him. Though the world never needed more careful rule than at the present time, lords and princes, simply because they are such, idly sit adorned with beautiful crowns, though they have received their trust from God to discharge their princely office. For the world must be governed, the youth must be educated, the wicked must be punished. But if thou desirest the honor only, and art not willing to step in the mire, to suffer people's displeasure, and through it all learn to trust God and for his sake do everything, thou art not worthy of the grace given for the accomplishment of a good and praiseworthy work. In punishment, resting under God's wrath, thou must remain unfit for every good work. III. "Be sober, be watchful: your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour: whom withstand stedfast in your faith." 43. The apostle has set forth two things to be practiced throughout the Christian life; namely, Christian humility--which is fear of God--and faith and confidence in God. Now he admonishes his readers to battle and warfare, that these blessings may be preserved. He shows us our enemy and adversary who seeks to rob us of our treasure and deprive us of our salvation and eternal blessedness. Hence he would say: Be not concerned about living a life of earthly glory, and let not anxious cares fill your soul. But be intent on humbling yourselves before God. Trust in him. Let this be your care, that you may abide in the grace of humility. Let it never be wrested from you. For the devil seeks to instill these forbidden cares, and to produce disobedience against God, that he may tear faith and God's Word out of your heart. WATCHFULNESS ENJOINED. Therefore, you must not ignore these facts, and meanwhile strive after something else. You are not to go along in false security or sleep and snore as though there were no danger. You must rather know that you have not been placed in a garden of roses here, but in the midst of heavy conflicts, where you must be on your guard, always watchful and prepared for resistance. For you have an adversary who is not insignificant or to be despised, but is strong, mighty, and moreover wicked and ferocious. He does not fight with stone and wood, destroying rocks and trees, but he has his eye fixed on you Christians. He never grows tired or weary, but without rest and ceasing he pursues you; not only to spy upon you and to harass you, in which he can be withstood, but he desires utterly to devour you. 44. His sole purpose and plan is to murder and destroy men, spiritually and bodily; even as, at the beginning, when man had been created, he led and cast him into death. He practices his schemes with awful and deadly effect in the world against those who do not believe in Christ, and he will never stop until the judgment day. One can perceive his incessant activity. He bustles about and openly raves and roars against all Christendom. He uses for his purpose the Turks, and other tyrants and godless people, not to speak of the sorrow and murder he works by so possessing people that in their frenzy they do themselves injury, or without cause murder others. He otherwise, through wicked and shameful snares, leads men into misfortune and sorrow. In short, the world is nothing else than the devil's murderous cave, both spiritually and physically. God, in order to somewhat hinder and restrain physical murder, has ordained temporal government, parental and other authority. These in their office are to be sober, watchful, and diligent. We ought to thank God for his preservation of such authority, for otherwise there would be no peace--everywhere on earth nothing but murder. Nevertheless, the awful murder the devil perpetrates on those who are without God's Word and faith, is not thereby checked. 45. Some other defense and protection, then, another kind of watchfulness, must be sought, in order that men may remain undestroyed and unharmed in the presence of this bloodthirsty murderer. Of this Peter speaks here to the little company of Christians, and says: Ye, through Christ's blood and death rescued from the devil's lies and murderous intent, have been made alive and have been transplanted into the heavenly life, like your beloved fathers, Adam, Abel, and others. They are no longer under bondage to Satan, but live in Christ, though the body lie for a time in the earth and truth and life must be supplied to their body and soul. But because ye still dwell in the world, ye are exposed to all danger. Physically, ye are yet in the murderer's house; therefore ye must take good heed, that he may not kill you again, and murder your souls dwelling in these mortal bodies. It shall harm you none that the soul was ruined and the body is yet subject to death. "Because I live," says Christ (Jn 14, 19), "ye shall live also." However, ye must struggle if ye are to abide in the truth and life. To this ye are appointed whilst ye live here on earth; otherwise ye would already be in Paradise. But the devil has not yet been consigned wholly to the punishment of his damnation, which will be at the last day, when he will finally be cast down from his airy height, and from the earth, into the abyss of hell. Then he will no more be able to attack us, and there will no longer be cloud or veil between us and God and the angels. SOBERNESS ESSENTIAL. 46. In order, now, he continues, that ye may be saved from his murderous designs, and may preserve the life you have begun, ye must be sober and watchful; not only mindful of the body, but much rather of the mind and soul. It is true that a Christian who is to resist the devil must be physically sober, for a full hog and drunkard cannot be watchful nor can he plan defense against the devil. Yet must a Christian much more guard himself, lest the soul become sleepy or drunken. As the soul is burdened by the body when the latter is overwhelmed by drunkenness, so, when the soul is watchful and sober, the body also is temperate and prepared to hear God's Word. But where the body is oppressed by drunkenness, there the soul must first have been a drunkard, not heeding God's Word nor giving attention to prayer. Where the soul is drunken and drowned in such security, it will not avail that the body suffer hurt by strict fasting and self-mortification, after the fashion of the Carthusians and hermits. 47. Saint Peter, then, forbids not only bodily drunkenness, but also drunkenness of the soul. One's soul is drunk when he lives in carnal security, without thought and anxiety as to whether he have and hold God's Word or not; when he asks no questions, either about God's wrath or his grace; and when he, moreover, lets himself be filled with the sweet poison of false doctrine through the mob of evil spirits Satan employs for this purpose, until he grows numb, loses faith and clear judgment and finally becomes overfull of drunkenness and spews it out upon others. 48. The same thing results when men begin to be wise in divine things by following human reason. Saint Peter aptly describes this false doctrine with the expression, "cunningly devised fables," 2 Pet 1, 16. He says: "We did not follow cunningly devised fables, when we made known unto you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." Such are the beautiful words and sermons which make a great show of wisdom and holiness, and naturally please men. For instance it is a cunningly devised fable when one with the aid of philosophy, which reason can understand, sets forth in grandiloquent words what a fine thing it is for a man to live honorably, chastely, and to practice good works and virtues. The aim is, with such pretense, to have us believe that we, through these works (not alone through faith), are justified before God; that is, are redeemed from sin and death. 49. Again, other factious spirits travel about with worthy sayings which they have heard from us--externals do not help souls; the Spirit must do the work--and then they proceed to fling contempt on baptism and the Lord's Supper. So Thomas Münzer, with his seditious peasants, and the Anabaptist rabble, went about, with great demonstration, preaching about the shameful, wicked life of the world, especially of the authorities, declaring that these were godless people and tyrants, and deserved God's wrath and punishment; that therefore men should depose and execute them, and establish a new government, of only pious and holy people. These and similar things Peter calls "cunningly devised fables." They are exaggeratingly pretended to be the product of great wisdom and art, and are rendered sweet and palatable to reason. So has all idolatry, heresy, and false doctrine, from the beginning on, prevailed, being fashioned and most beautifully adorned by people learned and wise and held in the esteem of the world. 50. How admirable did the position of Arius and his adherents appear in comparison with the true faith concerning the divinity of Christ, when they declared that though Christ should be exalted above all angels and creatures, and that all honor, dominion and power in heaven and on earth belong to him, yea, that he is quite equal to God--all this, yet he is not "homo-ousios"; that is, he is not in one undivided, divine, eternal essence, which is of such unity that it could be imparted to no one else. It would be too much to say that a man is God, etc. With such pretense was a great multitude of Christians seduced. Even few bishops remained in the pure doctrine and faith. And afterward this poison prevailed among the wise people of Asia and Greece, until Mohammed, with his Saracens and Turks, had miserably corrupted the greatest part of the world. 51. Likewise the Pope has adorned and colored with a glorious form his abominations and idolatry, claiming for his order of service that it is a meritorious and beautiful thing. Again, he calls attention to the serviceableness of the beautiful, orderly government and power of the Church, with its well regulated gradations of office and position--bishops superior to the ordinary priests, and over the bishops Saint Peter's chair at Rome. In that chair is vested the authority for the convocation of general councils so often as these may be necessary. These councils are to judge and decide in all matters of faith, and their decisions everyone must follow and obey. Again, he boasts what great service and consolation to the whole world is the work of the priests in the mass, when they daily renew and offer to God the sacrifice made by Christ on the cross. This is the sweet wine in the "golden cup" of the scarlet harlot of Babylon, with which she has made drunken all kings and nations, Rev 17, 2-4. 52. Where the devil finds those who give ear to such fables, he takes them captive and so fills them with these falsehoods that they neither see nor hear anything else. They think their belief is the only one, and they will not suffer themselves to be instructed out of God's Word. And so, in their madness, without rightful intelligence of faith and all principles of pure doctrine, they continue in their darkened mind, with their fantastic, lying prattle, without repentance and amendment, having no grace to learn or do anything good. This is amply proved by the example of all seditious spirits. 53. Therefore, Peter admonishes us to be "sober and watchful," especially in spirit, and to guard ourselves against this sweet poison and these beautiful, adorned lies and fables of the devil. He teaches us how to equip and defend ourselves against his wicked devices. "Whom withstand stedfast in your faith." 54. The true defense and resistance, in which we are to be sober and watchful, is to be well grounded in God's Word and cling firmly thereto when the devil seeks, with his cunningly devised fables, born of human understanding and reason, to overthrow our faith. Reason is the devil's bride, and always vaunts itself wise and skilful in divine things, and thinks what it holds to be right and good must be accounted so before God. But faith holds to God's Word alone. It knows that before God, human wisdom, skill and power, and whatever gifts and virtues man may have, count for nothing. Only his grace and the forgiveness of sins in Christ has value. Therefore, faith can repel and defeat all these fine pretensions and cunning fables. 55. Worldly dominion and authority boasts before God in this fashion: My crown is a crown in God's sight, for my power and sovereignty have been given me by God. Therefore, whatever I say he must respect and regard as valid, and everyone must endorse my words and actions. The wise philosopher or jurist would thus give expression to his boasts and pretensions: We are the learned, the wise rulers of the world, and have admirable laws and statutes. We have superior and beautiful doctrines concerning good works and virtues. Men must listen to us and allow our judgment to have precedence. He who can do, or does, such things as we have done is, in God's sight, superior to others. FAITH, NOT WORLDLY WISDOM, ESSENTIAL. 56. No, dear man, says faith to this, I grant that the things of which thou boastest have been ordained and confirmed by God; but they are not of value save for this temporal life. The world regards it a crown to be known as wise. But in the presence of God thou shouldst lay aside thy crown, let thy might and power, thy law and wisdom, go, and say: God, be merciful to me a poor sinner! Reason has this advantage, that it is equipped and adorned with God's promise to confirm its rule here on earth and to be pleased therewith; but with the provision that reason shall not interfere in God's government, or boast over against him. Let it be known that what is called wisdom and prudence on earth, is foolishness before God. What in the sight of the world is commended and honored as beautiful, valuable, as of honor and virtue, is before God sin, and subject to his wrath. What on earth is called life, is before God nothing but death. 57. If, now, the parental, governmental, and other authority which he, himself, has arrayed and through his word established, and which is even administered by Christians, does not endure before him in that other life, how much less will he allow that to stand which man has devised or subtly contrived out of his own head and heart! Wouldst thou be wise and prudent, then cultivate these virtues in the sphere appointed thee, in thy home, the State, and whatever office thou hast. In these temporal things, rule as well as thou canst. Thou wilt find little enough to help in all thy books, thy reason and wisdom. But when thou beginnest to devise out of thine own reason the things of God, though they may all seem trustworthy wisdom, yet, as Peter says, they are nothing else than fables and lies. 58. For example, a monk's words: Whoever dons a cowl can lead a holy life, for he is cut off from the world, can banish all care and sorrow, and can undisturbed, in peace and quietness, serve God--these words appear wisely spoken, but at bottom they are nothing but unreliable and useless chatter. This is proved from God's Word, which teaches that God has forbidden us to invent our own worship; also, that God would have us serve him in our ordinary life and station and not by fleeing therefrom. Hence, such monkery can not be a holy, godly life. In Psalm 119, 85, we read: "The proud have digged pits for me, who are not according to thy law." That is, they preach to me about praiseworthy things, and represent their cause as most worthy, in order to overcome me. But when I look at their words aright, I do not find them to be in accord with thy Word and commandments, which (says he) "are faithful." A lie is always beautiful. It attracts and pretends to be truth. It has, further, the advantage that it can adorn itself from the wardrobe of God's Word, and, perverting the Word, can use it in an uncertain sense. On the other hand, the truth does not so glitter, because it does not make itself plain to reason. For example, a common Christian, a type of the brethren, hears the Gospel, believes, uses the sacraments, leads a Christian life at home with wife and children--that does not shine as does the fascinating lie of a saintly Carthusian or hermit, who, separated from his fellow men, would be a holier servant of God than other people. Yet the latter is useful to nobody. He lets others preach and rule, and labor in the sweat of their brows. GOD'S WORD THE CHRISTIAN'S GUIDE. 59. The one important thing, then, is to see to it that we have God's Word, and that we regulate all the teachings and claims of men in accordance therewith. We will thus distinguish between the true and the false. We must remember, also, that human reason holds a far inferior position to faith and is not to be acknowledged as trustworthy, save as it is authorized by God for temporal authority. He who has faith can easily perceive when reason conflicts with God's Word or seeks, in its wisdom, to rise superior thereto; just as, in worldly things, each one in his station, office, or calling, knows full well, when another attempts the same work, whether he does it right or not. So every householder well understands that in his home wantonness and wrong-doing on the part of the servants are not to be tolerated. However, in divine things, reason can so attire and adorn itself as not to be recognized except by one who, guided by faith, has a right knowledge of God's Word. Reason will not refrain from intruding, with its wisdom and prudence, into the affairs of God, where it has no orders. Thus the devil creates endless misery, as he did at the beginning in the case of our first parents. And yet reason will not permit, in its own domain, the slightest interference of one unskilled in reason's code. 60. If a cobbler were to arise in the Church and censure the people because they did not wear his make of shoes, and should try to convince people that such a procedure was necessary to salvation, they would pursue him out of the Church with shoes and slippers, and cry after him: Stay at home in your shop with your shoes and lasts! What does that concern the spiritual estate? But when a factious spirit stands up and in his supposed wisdom grunts forth: I am a holy, pious man. I have a special illumination from the spirit. Therefore do not believe what the others say, which is nothing but the dead letter, that one person can be God and man; that a virgin can be a mother; that a man can be cleansed from sin by water and the spoken Word, etc.,--when he does this, then there is no one to offer resistance. Reason then gains the victory if it only claims the glory of guidance by the Spirit, of a holy life, etc., even though God's Word and faith are not present in their purity. Behold, what mischief the Turk, with his Mohammed, has wrought and is still working, solely by claiming the honor of worshipping the one God, and asserting that he alone has the true God! He declares that only he and his followers are God's people on earth, to honor which God they war and fight against the Christians. He presses his cause the more vigorously because he has such large fortune and victory; so even many Christians who come among them adopt their faith and become Turks. But none of the Turks turn Christian. 61. Therefore, no other counsel can be offered for resisting the devil and escaping destruction by him, than this, that we remain firm in faith, says Saint Peter. One must have a heart which holds fast to God's Word and fully understands the same and holds it to be true. For faith cannot exist or endure without the Word, nor can it hear or understand aught else. One must separate the Word far from all reason and wisdom, placing it above these. He must hold reason as nothing--yea, as dead--in matters pertaining to God's government and to how man is to escape sin and eternal death. Reason must keep silent and give to God's Word alone the honor which belongs to the truth, "bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ," as Saint Paul says, 2 Cor 10, 5. If reason is to be my teacher in these things, what need is there of faith? And why should I not throw away all the Scriptures? We Christians, says Paul (1 Cor 1, 20-21), preach something else and higher than reason comprehends, for the wisdom of the world is mere folly. If reason taught me that the mother of Christ is a virgin, the angel Gabriel might have remained in heaven and kept silent concerning the matter. Your faith, says Paul again (1 Cor 2, 4), should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God. Now you have seen the tricks and wiles of the devil with which he seeks to devour you, which he bases on reason as opposed to God's Word. 62. Peter admonishes all Christians, especially the preachers, how to defend themselves against the devil's intrigues and artifices, with which he seeks to capture them. In order that Christians may be properly equipped, Saint Peter calls attention to two things: First, we must know the enemy and realize his purpose; second, we must be armed to meet him and defend ourselves, that we may stand before him and conquer. He is a terrible, mighty foe, says Peter, and is the god of this world. He has more wisdom and more deceptive snares than all men, and can so blind and unsettle reason that it will cheerfully believe and follow him. He is, moreover, a wicked and bitter enemy to you who in Christ have life. He cannot bear to see you Christ's. He thinks and plots about nothing else than your overthrow. And think not that he is far from you, or that he will pursue you from a distance. He has encamped close to you and right around you; yea, in your own territory--that is, in your flesh and blood. There he seeks how to reach you, and overtake you when unguarded, attempting now this, now that. Misguided faith, doubt, anger, impatience, covetousness, evil passions, etc., are points of attack--any place where he finds an opening or discovers that you are weak. Therefore, think not that he is simply jesting. He is more furious and hungry than a famished and angry lion. He does not purpose merely to wound or prick you, but wholly to consume you, so that nothing of body or soul will remain. 63. Whoever would withstand such a foe must be equipped with other armor and weapons than those furnished by human wit and understanding, by human powers or ability. Your defense is nothing else, says Peter, than faith, which holds and grasps God's Word. And because the believer holds fast to this, the devil can gain nothing. It is God's truth and power, before which, with his lying and murdering, he cannot stand; he must yield and flee. Therefore Ephesians 6, 16 says: "Taking up the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the evil one." These fiery darts are chiefly those he hurls into the heart through the beautiful thoughts of human reason. He thus transforms himself into an angel of light, to displace right thoughts and faith, and to introduce human whims and false faith. His aim is, also, to lead into doubt, distrust, hatred, and anger toward God. Thus it is, too, in the other temptations and trials of life, when Satan drives men into sin and disobedience against God's commandment, into such sins as avarice, usury, anger, revengefulness, unchastity, and other vices. Here he uses the same insidious arts, first tearing God's Word out of the heart, then blinding reason with sweet and beautiful thoughts. He says: The thing proposed is not so wicked. God will not be so angry with you. He can afford to be patient with you, you still love the Gospel. With such suggestions as these he carries you away and plunges you under God's fearful anger and condemnation. 64. If you would withstand these wiles, there can be no other plan or counsel than this: Fight with God's Word in firm faith against these suggestions and allurements. Further, keep in mind both your former misery and your present treasures of grace. Remember how you were once under God's wrath when, without fear of God and without faith, you were the devil's own, subject to all his will, and must have perished had not God, in boundless goodness, forgiven you your sin and bestowed on you his grace. And now give heed that you may not lose this treasure, to which end the Holy Spirit has been promised you. You need not succumb if you remain in faith. Again, if you experience weakness and suffer want, you are bidden to call upon him, certain that he will hear you. The promise is: "If ye shall ask anything of the Father, he will give it you in my name," Jn 16, 23. Also: "If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatsoever ye will, and it shall be done unto you," Jn 15, 7. 65. Peter would, with his admonitions, make Christians bold and confident for resisting the temptations of the devil and defending themselves. He would not have us feel terrified nor despair before Satan, even though that wicked one press us hard through the instrumentality of the world and of our own flesh, as well as by his direct onslaughts. We are not to fear though he seem too strong for us, and though surrender to his prowess seems inevitable. We are to have a manly heart and fight valiantly through faith. We must be assured that, if we remain firm in the faith, we shall have strength and final victory. The devil shall not defeat us; we shall prove superior to him. We have been called of God and made Christians to the end that we renounce the devil and contend against him, and thus maintain God's name, Word, and kingdom against him. Christ, our head, has already, in himself, smitten and destroyed for us the devil and his power. In addition, he gives us faith and the Holy Spirit, whereby we can wholly defeat Satan's further wickedness and his attempts to overthrow us. 66. A Christian should bear all this in mind, I say, and learn to experience the strength and power of faith. So will he not yield to temptation and enticement. Nor will he, from love of the devil or the world, to his own eternal hurt, and for the sake of small temporal advantage, pleasure, or honor, cast from him God's grace and the Holy Spirit, and put himself again under God's eternal anger and condemnation. IV. "Knowing that the same sufferings are accomplished in your brethren who are in the world." 67. This is a very precious and comforting passage, the truth of which Peter learned not only by inspiration of the Holy Spirit, but from his own experience. One instance of his experience was when, in the high-priest's house, he thrice denied his Lord, and soon thereafter fell into such anxiety and despair that he would have followed the traitor Judas had not Christ turned and looked on him. It was for this reason that Christ, so soon after his resurrection, first of all commanded that the glad tidings should be announced to Peter. Christ also said to him, before all this happened: "Simon, ... I made supplication for thee, that thy faith fail not; and do thou, when once thou hast turned again, establish thy brethren," Lk 22, 31-32. CONDUCT IN SUFFERING. Peter makes faithful use of the present passage for his readers' comfort: Ye must expect, in the world, says he, to suffer many and severe things, both in temptations of soul and body, against the first and the second table of the law, Satan lying in wait for you with his deceitful and murderous arts. 68. Weak Christians suffer beyond measure because they are plagued and beset so constantly by the devil. Their afflictions so sorely oppress them that they conclude that no one suffers so severely as do they. Especially does this seem the case in the great spiritual temptations which come to those endowed with peculiar gifts and who are called to positions of prominence in the Church. So Paul often laments his great temptations, which the common people do not understand and cannot endure. God, moreover, is careful to lay on each one just the cross he is able to carry. Still these sufferings are such that even the great and strong must languish and wither beneath them were it not for the comfort God bestows. These troubles grip the heart, and consume the very marrow, as the Psalms often lament. 69. Some of those living in cloisters, and other pious, tender consciences, have learned by experience how hard such burdens are to bear, especially in the darkness of the papacy, where they receive but little genuine comfort. There are, also, some inexperienced and forward spirits who have seen but have not understood these things, and who yet desire to be regarded as people of large experience. When, however, the test comes, they are found wanting. It is related of one of this class, who heard others bemoaning their temptations, that he prayed God to let temptation visit him also; whereupon God permitted him to be tempted with carnal lust. But when he found he could not bear it, he again prayed God, asking that the burden of his brother, whom he regarded inferior to himself, be given him. But when this request was granted, he prayed yet more earnestly that God would give him back his former burden. 70. Amid such temptations Peter comforts suffering Christians by telling them that they are not the first, nor the only ones, to be thus assailed. They are not to feel as if it were a wonderful, rare, unheard of cross which they bear, or that they bear it alone. They are to know that their brethren, the Christians of all times, and scattered through all the world, must, because they are in the world, suffer the same things at the hand of Satan and his minions. It assuages and comforts beyond measure for the sufferer to know that he does not suffer alone, but with a great multitude. 71. It is true that in external temptations this comfort is easily grasped, because of the knowledge of others' experiences. But when Satan assails thee alone with his poisonous darts--for example, when he tempts thee to doubt God's grace, as if thou alone hadst been cast off; or when he suggests horrible blasphemies, hatred of God, condemnation of his government, and so tortures and fills with anguish thy heart that thou art led to think that no man on earth is more fearfully assailed than thyself--then there is need to make use of this comfort which Peter offers thee and all Christians. In other words, Peter would say: "My friend, let not the devil and thy sufferings terrify thee or lead thee to despair. Thou shouldst know this for a certainty, that thou sufferest not alone. No matter how shamefully he attacks thee, he has done and is doing the same to others." The devil seeks, not only our own destruction, but also that of all Christendom. It is ever his purpose to tear out of men's hearts, in the midst of their sufferings, God's Word and faith. He would rob them of their comfort in Christ, and depict God in the most horrible and hostile light, that the heart may have not one kind thought regarding him. And he can do this; not only with lofty, refined, subtle thoughts, but also by gross suggestions from without, before which a man must fear and shudder. I, myself, saw and heard a girl who complained of a temptation of this nature; namely, that while she stood in the church and saw the sacrament elevated, the thought occurred to her: Lo, what a big knave the priest is elevating. And she was suddenly so frightened at the terrible thought that she sank to the floor. 72. Such terror and anxiety proceed from the fact that one imagines that no one else has ever experienced such dreadful assaults. He thinks he has a special, strange, and unusual affliction. Although it is true that men's temptations differ and come from different sources and one may imagine his own a peculiar kind, yet the sufferings and temptations of all Christians are alike in this, that the devil tries to drive them all from the fear and confidence of God into unbelief, contempt, hatred, and blasphemy against God. Therefore, the apostles are accustomed to call Christians' sufferings a fellowship in pain and tribulations. They point all men who suffer to the agonies of Christ our Lord, as the head and exemplar. Peter says in his first epistle, ch. 1, 11: "The Spirit of Christ ... testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ, and the glories that should follow them." And Paul says, "I fill up on my part that which is lacking of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh," Col 1, 24. 73. If one would speak of specially severe sufferings, surely no human heart can comprehend, much less tell, how great and heavy were the anxiety and sorrow of our first parents on account of their miserable fall. And what sorrow must Adam have witnessed during the nine hundred years of his life in the experiences of his first son Cain, and his children! No man has ever borne such a burden as lay on both parents for nearly a hundred years after Abel's death, until their third son was born. Truly, these nine hundred years were a period of sorrow and misery. Perhaps, on the last day, we shall discuss with this our father the solitary suffering of that time, of which we know nothing. And we shall willingly confess that in sorrow's school he stands far above us and we have been only insignificant pupils. It must have been most severe and dangerous for him, since he had no example before him of similar suffering with which to comfort himself. 74. Likewise, if thou couldst rightly understand what the other holy patriarchs, the prophets and apostles--especially Paul and Peter--and later all the beloved martyrs and saints, have endured thou wouldst be forced to say that all thy temptation and suffering are nothing in comparison. But above all these must we reckon the experiences of the Lord Christ, whose heart was so pierced by Satan's fiery darts and bitter thrusts that the bloody drops of sweat were pressed out of his body. He has gone before and surpassed us on the way of sorrow. We, with all our suffering, can only follow his footsteps. OF TEMPTATION. 75. Therefore, learn well this saying of Peter, and think not that thou alone endurest this severe, fearful temptation and these onslaughts of the devil. Remember that thy brethren, not only they who are dead--who also have set thee a good example--but also those who live with thee in the world, have suffered and do suffer such terror and distress. For they have the very same enemy Christ and all Christendom have. Thou canst be glad and shout: God be praised! I am not the only one that suffers, but with me there is a great multitude, all Christians on earth, my beloved brothers and sisters, even down to the last who shall walk this earth. And in this passage Peter comforts and strengthens me, as Christ commanded him, who also has tasted of these sorrows, and, indeed, in far greater measure than I and others have. 76. I have at times thought, in my trials, that I should like to argue with Peter and Paul as to whether they were tried more severely than I. For, when he can do nothing else, the devil resorts to the plan of leading a man to fix his attention solely on his own affliction, and oppresses him with the thought: No man has been so cast off by God, or has sunk so deep into anxiety and distress. The devil has often so wearied me with such arguments that at length I could offer no further opposition to him, but simply turned him over to Christ, who can quickly silence him with arguments. If we have not Christ with us, Satan proves far too strong for us. We cannot silence him. He soon renders helpless all our skill, and slays us with our own sword. 77. Ah, these seditious leaders and other self-secure spirits are poor, miserable people, who know nothing at all of this conflict! They drown in their own imaginations, and think they are perfect. And some of them are so shameless and without fear as to blaspheme, saying that God himself could not take their virtue from them. The devil simply strengthens them in these thoughts, and hardens them the more. This very thing is a sign that they do not yet know the devil; they are already blinded and taken captive by him, so that he can ruin them when he pleases. 78. Genuine Christians are not thus self-confident and boastful when they are attacked. In severe conflicts and anxieties they labor that the devil may not deprive them of the sword. I know that I am learned and have seen something of what the devil can do; but I must bear him witness, from my daily experience, that he can overcome me unless I am well established in faith and have Christ in my heart. Thomas Münzer was so firm and inflexible, as he thought, that he dared to say that he would not behold Christ, if he did not himself wish to speak with him. But at last, when the devil began to attack him, men saw what his pride and boasts were. No, they are not the ones to accomplish anything, who go about so boastful, as if they had consumed the devil. They do not see that they, themselves, were long since devoured seven times over by him and are held fast in his jaws. 79. The heretic Arius was also secure and proud enough against the pious bishops and Christians. Yea, when he was punished for his error by his bishop, and admonished to desist, he became the more obstinate. He complained about the bitter persecution to which he was subjected. But his suffering was that they would not approve his horrible blasphemy. Just so in every age the heretics and blasphemers, yea, even open murderers and tyrants, pose as martyrs when they are not permitted to run against God's Word and against pious people. So confident do they try to be that they have no fear of God. They count the devil a dead bee until, at length, he suddenly seizes and destroys them in a moment. 80. But the poor, tempted Christians have need of the comfort and the strength furnished by God's Word. They must anxiously contend lest they lose, in their hours of severe temptation, God, Christ, faith, and Our Father. Therefore, the mission intrusted to Peter, to strengthen his brethren, is most needful. So the same comfort was necessary in his own temptations, and he was even given it beforehand by Christ, who declared that he had prayed for him that his faith might not be extinguished nor fail, which faith, however, from the time of his denial on to the third day did almost die, and scarcely the smallest spark remained. Hence he now, as a true apostle, comforts those who are in the like fears and straits of a sinking and expiring faith. He says to all the suffering and comfortless: My dear brother, think not that thou alone sufferest distress and temptation. Many of thy brethren have suffered quite as heavily, perhaps more heavily. I, myself, have been as weak as thou canst ever be. If thou dost not believe this, look and see what occurred in the house of Caiaphas, the high-priest, when I, who protested my readiness to go with Christ into prison and death, at a word spoken to me by a maid, fell, and denied and abjured most shamefully my beloved Lord. For three whole days I lay in misery. I had no one to comfort me and none who suffered equally with myself. I had no consolation except that my dear Master gave me, with his eyes, one friendly look. 81. Therefore, no one should regard his distress and need as too heavy and fearful, as if it were an entirely new thing, something which had never been experienced by others. To thee it may be something new and untried. But look about thee, at the great multitude of the Church, from the beginning until this hour. The Church has been set in the world to suffer the attacks of the devil, and without ceasing it must be sifted as wheat, as Christ's words suggest, Luke 22, 31. My friend, thou hast not yet seen nor experienced what our first parents endured their whole life long, and after them all the holy fathers until Christ. Peter, also, has been farther in this school than I and thou, and I would say that the same temptation as his could hardly be found. Paul says of him and the beloved apostles (1 Cor 4, 9): "For, I think, God hath set forth us the apostles last of all, as men doomed to death: for we are made a spectacle unto the world, both to angels and men"--so that Satan may torment us according to his will, and thus work out his pleasure upon us. And what are the sufferings of all men combined when compared with Christ's agony and conflict, in that he sweat blood for thee? 82. When the devil plagues and assails thee with his manifold temptations, refer him to Christ, with whom to dispute about the severe temptations, the death struggle, the anguish of hell, etc. Comfort thyself that thou art one of a great company of sufferers, past present and future. O beautiful, glorious company! All under one lord and head, who took from the devil his power and hell-fire. In short, thy affliction cannot prove so great that thou wilt not find it paralleled in the lives of the apostles, prophets, patriarchs and all the saints, especially of Christ himself; with whom, if we suffer, let us not doubt, says Paul, that we shall "be also glorified," Rom 8, 17. _Fourth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Romans 8, 18-22. 18 For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed to us-ward. 19 For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to vanity not of its own will, but by reason of him who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the liberty of the glory of the children of God. 22 For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now. CONSOLATION IN SUFFERING, AND PATIENCE.[1] [Footnote 1: This sermon was first printed in 1535, at Wittenberg.] 1. Paul's language here is peculiar. He speaks in a manner wholly different from the other apostles. There is something particularly strange about the first sentences of the passage. His words must be faithfully studied and their meaning learned by personal experience. The Christian life consists altogether in the practice and experience of what the Word of God tells us. He who has no experimental knowledge of the Word will have but little conception and appreciation of Paul's words here. Indeed, they will be wholly unintelligible to him. 2. Up to the point where our text begins, Paul has been assuring us in this epistle that through faith in our Lord Jesus Christ we attain the high privilege of calling God our Father; that the Holy Spirit bears witness in our hearts of our sonship, and makes us bold enough to come, by faith in Christ the Mediator, joyfully before God, trusting him to fill and bless us. Then Paul draws the conclusion, first, that we are children of God; next, he says: "If children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ." The second conclusion is the outcome of the first. For the reason that we have the boldness and assurance to call God our Father in sincerity and nothing doubting, we are become not only children but heirs, heirs of God and brethren to Christ, joint-heirs with him. But all this, as Paul says, is true "if so be that we suffer with him" (verse 17). 3. The high prerogative of heirship, Paul faithfully enjoins, is dependent on a sacred duty. Let him who would be Christ's brother, and joint-heir with him, remember he must also be a joint-martyr and joint-sufferer with Christ. The apostle's meaning is: Many are the Christians, indeed, who would be joint-heirs with Christ and gladly enjoy the privilege of sharing his inheritance, but who object to suffering with him; they separate themselves from him because unwilling to participate in his pain. But Paul says this will not do. The inheritance follows only as a consequence of the suffering. Since Christ, our dear Lord and Savior, had to suffer before he could be glorified, we must be martyrs with him, with him be mocked by the world, despised, spit upon, crowned with thorns and put to death, before the inheritance will be ours. It cannot be otherwise. A consistent sympathy is essential to Christian faith and doctrine. He who would be Christ's brother and fellow-heir must also suffer with him. He who would live with Christ must first die with him. The members of a family not only enjoy good together but also share in their ills. As the saying is, "He who would be a companion in eating must also be a companion in labor." 4. Paul would earnestly admonish us not to become false Christians who look to find in Christ mere pleasure and enjoyment, but to remember that if we are to participate in the "eternal weight of glory" we must first bear the "light affliction, which is for the moment." 2 Cor 4, 17. By the words "if so be that we suffer with him" the writer means that we are to do more than exercise the sympathy that grieves over another's misfortune, though such sympathy is binding upon Christians and is a superior Christian virtue, a work of mercy: we ourselves must suffer, non solum affectu, sed etiam effectu, that is, we are overwhelmed by like sufferings. As Christ our Lord was persecuted, we also must endure persecution. As the devil harassed him, we also must be harassed unceasingly. And so Satan does torment true Christians. Indeed, were it not for the restraining hand of the Lord our God, the devil would suffer us to have no peace. Paul has reference to a heartfelt sympathy intense enough to enter into actual suffering. He says to the Hebrews (ch. 10, 32-33): "Ye endured a great conflict of sufferings; partly, being made a gazing stock both by reproaches and afflictions." 5. And in the verse preceding our text he tells us that as our blissful inheritance through brotherhood and joint-heirship with Christ is not a mere fancy and false hope of the heart, but a real inheritance, so our sympathy must amount to real suffering, which we take upon ourselves as befitting joint-heirs. Now Paul comforts the Christian in his sufferings with the authority of one who speaks from experience, from thorough acquaintance with his subject. He seems to view this life as through obscurities, while beholding the life to come with clear and unobstructed vision. He says: "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed to us-ward [in us]." 6. Notice how he turns his back to the world and his face to the future revelation, as if seeing no suffering anywhere, but all joy. "Even if it does go ill with us," he would argue, "what indeed is our suffering in comparison with the unspeakable joy and glory to be revealed in us? It is too insignificant to be compared and unworthy to be called suffering." We fail to realize the truth of these words because we do not see with our bodily eyes the supreme glory awaiting us; because we fail to grasp fully the fact that we shall never die but shall have a body that cannot suffer nor be ill. If one could conceive the nature of this reward he would be compelled to say: "Were it possible for me to suffer ten deaths by fire or flood, that would be nothing in comparison to the future life of glory. What is temporal suffering, however protracted, contrasted with eternal life? It is not worthy to be called suffering or to be esteemed meritorious." 7. In this light does Paul regard suffering, as he says, and he admonishes Christians to look upon it similarly. Then shall they find the infinite beyond all comparison with the finite. What is a single penny measured by a world of dollars? though this is not an appropriate comparison since the things compared are both perishable. The suffering of the world is always to be counted as nothing measured by the glorious and eternal possessions yet to be ours. "I entreat you, therefore, beloved brethren," Paul would say, "to fear no sufferings, not even should it be your lot to be slain. For if you are actually joint-heirs, it must be your fortune, a part of your inheritance, to suffer with others. But what is your pain measured by the eternal glory prepared for you and obtained by the sacrifice of your Savior Jesus Christ? It is too insignificant to be contrasted." So Paul makes all earthly suffering infinitely small--a drop, a tiny spark, so to speak; but of yonder hoped-for glory he makes a boundless ocean, an illimitable flame. 8. Why cannot we take his view of the insignificance of our afflictions and the magnitude of the future glory? The extravagance of our conduct is apparent in the fact that but a harsh word uttered by one to his fellow will make the injured one ready to overturn mountains and uproot trees in his resentment. To them who are so unwilling to suffer, Paul's word of encouragement here is wholly unintelligible. Christians are not to conduct themselves in this impatient manner. It ill becomes them to make extravagant complaint and outcry about injustice. "But," you say, "I have truly suffered injustice." Very well, so be it. But why do you make so much of your sufferings and never give a thought to what awaits you in heaven? Why not exalt the future glory also? If you desire to be a Christian, truly it will not do to conduct yourself in this impatient manner. If you must air your grievances, surely you may do it quietly and decorously. 9. In this life it must be otherwise than in the life of glory. If you essay to be a joint-heir with the Lord Jesus Christ and do not suffer with him, to be his brother and are not like unto him, Christ certainly will not at the last day acknowledge you as a brother and fellow-heir. Rather he will ask where are your crown of thorns, your cross, the nails and scourge; whether you have been, as he and his followers ever have from the beginning of time, an abomination to the world. If you cannot qualify in this respect, he cannot regard you as his brother. In short, we must all suffer with the Son of God and be made like unto him, as we shall see later, or we shall not be exalted with him in glory. 10. Upon this same topic Paul addresses also the Galatians (ch. 6, 17): Henceforth let no one confuse me, say nothing to me about the doctrine that friendship is rewarded on earth; for I bear branded on my body the marks of my Lord Jesus Christ. His reference is to the signs in ancient paintings of Christ, where the Savior was represented as bearing his cross upon his shoulders, with the nails, the scourge, the crown of thorns and other emblems in evidence. These marks or signs, Paul instructs, all Christians as well as himself must exhibit, not painted on a wall but branded in their flesh and blood. They are made when inwardly the devil affrights and assails us with all manner of terrors and overwhelming afflictions, and at the same time outwardly the world slanders us as heretics, laying her hand to our throats whenever possible and putting us to death. THE REWARD. Such marks, or scars, for Christ the Lord, Paul admonishes all Christians to exhibit. Thus he encourages them not to be terrified though they suffer every conceivable wrong, such as our brethren here and there have suffered now for several years. But brighter days are in store for us when once the hour of our enemies and the power of darkness shall come. Our adversaries annoy us now with malignant words and slanderous writings, and indeed they may take our lives. So be it. We must in any event suffer if we are ever to attain true glory. But what they will secure by putting us to death they certainly shall experience. 11. In Paul's reference to the glory that shall be revealed in us there is a hint as to the cause of man's unwillingness to suffer: faith is yet weak and fails to descry the hidden glory; that glory is yet to be revealed in us. Could we but behold it with mortal vision, what noble, patient martyrs we should be! Suppose one stood on yonder side of the Elbe with a chest full of gold, offering it to him who should venture to swim across for it. What an effort would be made for the sake of that tangible wealth! 12. Take the case of the adventurous officer. For a few dollars per month he defies spears and guns, exposing himself to almost certain death. The merchant hurries to and fro in the world in a frenzied effort to amass riches, hazarding life and limb, apparently careless of physical cost so long as God's mercy preserves to him but the shattered hulk of a body. And what must not one endure at court before he realizes, if he ever does, the fulfilment of his ambition? In temporal things man can do and suffer everything for the sake of honor, wealth and power, because these are manifest to earthly vision. But in the spiritual conflict, because the reward is not discernible to the senses it is very difficult for the old man in us to believe that God will finally grant us glorious bodies, pure souls and hearts of gladness, and make us superior to any earthly king. Indeed, the very reverse of this condition obtains now. Here is one condemned as a heretic; there one is burned or in some other way put to death. Glory, wealth and honor are not in evidence now. So it seems hard for us to resign ourselves to suffering and wait for the redemption and glory yet unrevealed. Again, no hardship is too great for the world to undergo for the sake of sordid gain; it willingly suffers whatever comes for that which moth and rust consume and thieves steal. 13. Paul means to say: "I am certain there is reserved for us exceeding glory, in comparison wherewith all earthly suffering is actually of no consideration; only it is not yet manifest." If we have to face the slightest gale of adversity, or if a trifling misfortune befalls us, we begin to make outcry, filling the heavens with our false complaint of a terrible calamity. Were our faith triumphant, we would regard it but as a small inconvenience to suffer, even for thirty or forty years or longer; indeed, we should think our sufferings too trifling to be taken into account. May the Lord our God only forbear to reckon with us for the sins we have committed! Why will we have so much to say about great sufferings and their merits? How utterly unworthy we are of the free grace and ineffable glory which are ours in the fact that through Christ we become children and heirs of God, brethren and joint-heirs with Christ! Well may we resolve: "I will maintain a cheerful silence about my sufferings, boasting not of them nor complaining about them. I will patiently endure all my merciful God sends upon me, meanwhile rendering him my heartfelt gratitude for calling me to such surpassing grace and blessing." But, as I said, the vision of glory will not enter our hearts because of our weak and miserable flesh, which allows itself to be more influenced by the present than by the future. So the Holy Spirit must be our schoolmaster to bring the matter home to our hearts. 14. Note particularly how Paul expressly states that the glory is to be revealed in us. He would remind us that not only such as Peter or Paul are to participate in the blessing, as we are prone to believe, but that we and all Christians are included in the word "us." Indeed, even the merest babe obtains at death, wherein it is a joint-sufferer with mankind, this unspeakable glory, which the Lord Jesus into whose death it was baptized has purchased and bestowed upon it. Though in the life beyond one saint may have more glory than another, yet all will have the same eternal life. Here on earth men differ in point of strength, comeliness, intellect, yet all enjoy the same animal life. So in the other life there will be degrees of radiance or glory, as Paul teaches (1 Cor 15, 41), yet all will share the same eternal happiness and joy; there will be one glory for all, for we shall all be the children of God. 15. Now the first point of consolation is that we turn our backs upon all suffering, saying: "What is all my pain, though it were tenfold greater, compared to the eternal life unto which I am baptized, to which I am called? My sufferings are not worthy to be so termed in connection with the exceeding glory to be revealed in me." Paul magnifies the future glory to make the temporal sufferings the more insignificant. Then follows: "For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the revealing [manifestation] of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to vanity, not of its own will, but by reason of him who subjected it, in hope: [For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope;]" 16. Here is the second point of consolation. Paul holds up as an example to us the condition of the whole creation. He exhorts us to endure patiently, as the creature does, all the violence and injustice we suffer from the devil and the world, and to comfort ourselves with the hope of future redemption. Remarkable doctrine this, unlike anything elsewhere found in the Scriptures, that heaven and earth, sun, moon and stars, leaf and blade, every living thing, waits with sighing and groaning for the revelation of our glory. THE TRAVAIL OF CREATION. 17. Such sighing and agony of the creature is not audible to me, nor is it to you. But Paul tells us he sees and hears it, not expressed by one creature alone, but by all God has made. What does he mean? What is the sighing and longing of creation? It is not that annually the leaves wither and the fruits fall and decay: God purposes that every year new fruits shall grow; he decrees the shattering of the fallen tree. But Paul refers to the creature's unwilling subjection to the ungodly; "subject to vanity," he phrases it. For instance, the blessed sun, most glorious of created things, serves the small minority of the godly, but where it shines on one godly man it must shine on thousands and thousands of knaves, such as enemies of God, blasphemers, persecutors, with whom the world is filled; also murderers, robbers, thieves, adulterers. To these it must minister in all their ungodliness and wickedness, permitting its pure and glorious influence to benefit the most unworthy, most shameful and abandoned profligates. According to the apostle, this subjection is truly painful, and were the sun a rational creature obeying its own volition rather than the decree of the Lord God who has subjected it to vanity against its will, it might deny every one of these wicked wretches even the least ray of light; that it is compelled to minister to them is its cross and pain, by reason of which it sighs and groans. Just as we Christians endure many kinds of injustice and consequently sigh for and implore help and deliverance in the Lord's prayer, so do the creatures sigh. Although they have not human utterance, yet they have speech intelligible to God and the Holy Spirit, who mark the creatures' sighs over their unjust abuse by the ungodly. 18. Nowhere else in the Holy Scriptures do we find anything like Paul's declaration here concerning the earnest expectation and waiting of the creatures for the revelation of the children of God; which waiting the apostle characterizes as a sighing in eager desire for man's redemption. A little later he compares the state of the creature to a woman in travail, saying it cries out in its anguish. The sun, moon and stars, the heavens and earth, the bread we eat, the water or wine we drink, the cattle and sheep, in short, all things that minister to our comfort, cry out in accusation against the world because they are subjected to vanity and must suffer with Christ and his brethren. This accusing cry is beyond human power to express, for God's created things are innumerable. Rightly was it said from the pulpit in former times that on the last day all creatures will utter an accusing cry against the ungodly who have shown them abuse here on earth, and will call them tyrants to whom they were unjustly subjected. 19. Paul presents this example of the creatures for the comfort of Christians. His meaning is: Be not sorrowful because of your sufferings; they are small indeed when the ensuing transcendent glory is considered. You are not alone in your tribulation and your complaint at injustice; the whole creation suffers with you and cries out against its subjection to the wicked world. Every bleat of the flock, every low of the herd, is an outcry against the ungodly as enemies of God and not worthy to enjoy the creatures' ministrations; not even to receive a morsel of bread or a drink of water. Along this line St. Augustine is eloquent. "A miserly wretch," he says, "is unworthy the bread he eats, for he is an enemy of God." Paul tells us the whole creation groans and travails with us, as if desiring relief from anguish; that it suffers like a woman in travail. For instance: the heavenly planets would gladly be freed from serving, yes, in the extent of their anguish would willingly suffer eclipse; the earth would readily become unfruitful; all waters would voluntarily sink from sight and deny the wicked world a draught; the sheep would prefer to produce thorns for the ungodly instead of wool; the cow would willingly yield them poison rather than milk. But they must perform their appointed work, Paul says, because of him who has subjected them in hope. God will finally answer the cry of creation; he has already determined that after the six thousand years of its existence now passed, the world shall have its evening and end. 20. Had not our parents sinned in paradise, the world would never be dissolved. But since man has fallen in sin, we all--the whole creation--must suffer the consequence; because of our sins, creation must be subjected to vanity and dissolution. During the six thousand years, which are as nothing compared to eternal life, all created things must be under the power of a condemned world, and compelled to serve with all their energies until God shall overthrow the entire world and for the elect's sake purify again and renew the creature, as Peter teaches. 2 Pet 3, 13. 21. The sun is by no means as gloriously brilliant as when created. Because of man's ungodliness its brightness is to an extent dimmed. But on the day of visitation God will cleanse and purify it by fire (2 Pet 3, 10), giving it a greater glory than it had in the beginning. Because it must suffer in our sins, and is obliged to shine as well for the worst knave as the godly man, even for more knaves than godly men, it longs intensely for the day when it shall be cleansed and shall serve the righteous alone with its light. Neither would the earth produce thistles nor thorns were it not cursed for our sins. So it, with all creatures, longs for the day when it shall be changed and renewed. 22. This is the explanation of Paul's remarkable declaration concerning the "earnest expectation of the creation." The creature continually regards the end of service, and freedom from slavery to the ungodly. This event will not take place before the revealing of the sons of God; therefore the earnestly expectant creation desires that revelation to come without delay, at any moment. Until such manifestation the world will not consider godly souls as children of the Father, but as children of the devil. So it boldly abuses and slanders, persecutes and puts to death, God's beloved children, thinking it thereby does God service. In consequence the whole creation cries: "Oh, for a speedy end of this calamity, and the dawning of glory for the children of God!" 23. We have plain authority for the interpretation of the groaning of creation in Paul's further words, "the creation was subjected to vanity, not of its own will." He thus makes all creation--sun and moon, fire, air, water, heaven and earth with all they contain--merely poor, captive servants. And whom do they serve? Not our Lord God; not for the most part his children, for they are a minority among those ministered unto. To whom, then, is their service given? To the wicked--to vanity. The created things are not, as they would be, in righteous service. The sun, for instance, would choose to shine for Paul, Peter and other godly ones. It begrudges to wicked characters like Judas, Pilate, Herod, Annas and Caiaphas the least ray of light; for it is useless service, yielding no good. To serve Peter and Paul would be productive of pleasure and profit; well may its benefit be bestowed upon these godly ones. But the sun must shine as well for the wicked as for the ungodly. Indeed, where it fittingly serves one godly individual, thousands abuse its service. The case is similar with gold and other minerals, and with all the articles of food, drink and clothing. To whom do these minister? Wicked desperadoes, who in return blaspheme and dishonor God, condemn his holy Gospel and murder his Christians. This is wasted service. 24. So Paul says, "The creature was made subject to vanity;" it must render service against its consent, having no pleasure therein. The sun does not shine for the purpose of lighting a highway robber to murder. It would light him in godly deeds and errands of mercy; but since he follows not these things the service of the blessed sun is abused and that creature ministers with sincere unwillingness. But how is it to avoid service? A wicked tyrant, a shameful harlot, may wear gold ornaments. Is the gold responsible for its use? It is the good creature of the Lord our God and fitted to serve righteous people. But the precious product must submit to accommodating the wicked world against its will. Yet it endures in hope of an end of such service--such slavery. Therein it obeys God. God has imposed the obligation, that man may know him as a merciful God and Father, who, as Christ teaches (Mt 5, 45), makes his sun to rise on the evil and the good. For the Father's sake the blessed sun serves wickedness, performing its service and bestowing its favors in vain. But God in his own good time will reckon with those who abuse the glorious sunlight and other creatures, and will richly recompense the created things for their service. 25. Beloved, Paul thus traces the holy cross among all creatures; heaven and earth and all they contain suffer with us. So we must not complain and excessively grieve when we fare ill. We must patiently wait for the redemption of our bodies and for the glory which is to be revealed in us; especially when we know that all creatures groan in anguish, like a woman in travail, longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For then shall begin their redemption, when they shall not be slaves to wickedness but shall willingly and with delight serve God's children only. In the meantime they bear the cross for the sake of God, who has subjected them in hope. Thus we are assured that captivity will not endure forever, but a time must come when the creatures will be delivered. "Do ye likewise, beloved Christians," Paul would advise, "and reflect that as the creature will rejoice with you on the last day, so does it now mourn with you; that not you alone must suffer, but the whole creation suffers with you and awaits your redemption, a redemption so great and glorious as to make your sufferings unworthy to be considered." _Fourth Sunday After Trinity_ Second Sermon. Text: Romans 8, 18-22. REDEMPTION OF THE CREATURES. 1. We have heard how Paul comforts the Christians in their sufferings, pointing them to the future inconceivable and eternal glory to be revealed in us in the world to come; and how he has, for our greater consolation, reminded us that the whole creation as one being suffers in company with the Christian Church. We have noted how he sees, with the clear, keen eye of an apostle, the holy cross in every creature. He brings out this thought prominently, telling us it is not strange we Christians should suffer, for in our preaching, our reproving and rebuking, we easily merit the world's persecution; but creation must suffer being innocent, must even endure forced subjection to the wicked and the devil himself. 2. Could the sun voice its experience from Adam's time down, what misery it has witnessed and endured, undoubtedly it would tell of its heavy cross in being compelled to serve innumerable adulterers, thieves, murderers, in fact, the devil's whole kingdom. Yet it is a noble and admirable work of creation, fit to serve only God, angels and pious Christians, who thank God for it. But it must serve those who blaspheme and dishonor God and who are guilty of all wickedness and lawlessness. Notwithstanding its dislike of such service, it is with every other created thing obedient to God. 3. This is a fine and comforting thought of the apostle's, that all creatures are martyrs, having to endure unwillingly every sort of injustice. The creatures do not approve the conduct of the devil and of the wicked in their shameful abuse of creation, but they submit to it for the sake of him who has subjected them to vanity, at the same time hoping for a better dispensation in the fulfilment of time, when they shall again be rightly received and abuse be past. Hence Paul points to another life for all creation, declaring it to be as weary of this order as we are and to await a new dispensation. By his reference to the earnest expectation of the creature he means that it does not expect to remain in its present condition, but with us looks toward heaven and hopes for a resurrection from this degraded life into a better one where it will be delivered from the bondage of corruption, as he says later. 4. By these sayings Paul gives us to understand that all creation is to attain a perfection far beyond its present state where with us it must be subject to tyrants. These tyrants wantonly abuse our characters, our bodies, our property rights, just as the devil abuses our souls. But we must suffer our lot, remembering that mankind is captive on earth in the kingdom of the devil, and all creation with it. The earth must submit to be trodden and to be cultivated by many a wicked one, to whom it must yield subsistence. Likewise is this submission true of the elements--air, fire, water--all creation having its cross, yet hoping for the end of the dispensation. 5. There is a refined and comforting perception in the apostle's exposition where he represents the entire creation as one being, with us looking forward to entrance upon another life. We are satisfied that our present life is not all, that we await another and true life. Likewise the sun awaits the restoration coming to it, to the earth and all creatures, when they shall be purified from the contaminating abuse of the devil and the world. 6. And this condition is to come about when the children of God are revealed. True, they are God's children on earth, but they have not yet entered into their glory. Similarly, the sun is not now in possession of its real glory, for it is subject to evil; it awaits the appointed time when its servitude shall cease. With all creation and with the true saints it waits and longs, being meanwhile subject to vanity--that is, the devil and the wicked world--for the sake of God alone, who subjects, yet leaves hope that the trial shall not continue forever. 7. We are children of God now on earth. We are blessed if we believe and are baptized, as it is written: "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved." Mk 16, 16. And again: "As many as received him, to them gave he the right to become children of God, even to them that believe on his name." Jn 1, 12. Baptism is a visible rite and we behold with mortal vision those who receive it; the Word of the Gospel we hear, and we have in ourselves the witness of the Holy Spirit that our faith, however weak, is acceptable to God. But who among men recognizes us as children of God? Who will apply the term to a class imprisoned and tortured and tormented in every conceivable way, as if they were children of the devil, condemned and accursed souls? 8. Not without significance is Paul's assertion that the glory of God's children is now unmanifest but shall be revealed in them. In Colossians 3, 3-4 he declares: "Ye died, and your life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ, who is our life, shall be manifested, then shall ye also with him be manifested in glory." So long as God's children are here upon earth they are not arrayed in the garb of his own, but wear the livery of the devil. It would be fitting for the children of the devil to be bound, fettered and imprisoned and to suffer all manner of misfortune; but it does not so come to pass. They have the world's pleasures. They are wealthy and powerful, have honor and money in plenty and withal bear God's name and wear the garb of his children, as if having his approval. Meanwhile they regard us as heretics and enemies of God. Thus the rightful order of things is reversed: they who are God's appear to be the devil's, and the devil's to be God's. This condition is painful to the pious. Indeed, heaven and earth and all creatures cry out in complaining protest, unwilling to be subject to evil and to suffer the abuse of the ungodly; to endure that dishonor of God that opposes the hallowing of his name, the extension of his kingdom and the execution of his will on earth as in heaven. 9. Because God's children are thus unrevealed and denied their true insignia, all creation, as Paul says, cries out with them for the Lord God to rend the heavens and come down to distinguish his children from those of the devil. Considering the unrevealed state of God's own on earth, the ungodly in their great blindness are not able to discern them. The doctrine of the righteous which magnifies God's grace manifest in Christ is by the wicked termed error, falsehood, heresy and diabolical teaching. So Paul says the whole creation waits for the manifestation of the children of God. THE CHRISTIAN'S GLORY TO BE REVEALED. John, also, says: "Beloved, now are we children of God, and it is not yet made manifest what we shall be. We know that, if he shall be manifested, we shall be like him." 1 Jn 3, 2. That is, when our Lord Jesus Christ comes with his loved angels and we are drawn up into the clouds to meet him in the air, he will bring to God's children a glory consistent with their name. They will be far more splendidly arrayed than were the children of the world in their lifetime, who went about in purple and velvet and ornaments of gold, and as the rich man, in silk. Then shall they wear their own livery and shine as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Such is the wonderful glory of the revelation that the radiant beauty of poor Lazarus who lay in wretchedness at the rich man's gate surpasses all expectation. Upon this topic, see Wisdom of Solomon, chapter 5, 2ff. 10. The hope of this wonderful glory, Paul says, is ours and that of all creation with us, for creation is to be purified and renewed for our sakes. Then will we be impressed with the grandeur of the sun, the majesty of the trees and the beauty of the flowers. Having so much in prospect, we should, in the buoyancy of our hope, attach little importance to the slight suffering that may be our earthly lot. What is it compared to the glory to be revealed in us? Doubtless in yonder life we shall reproach ourselves with the thought: "How foolish I was! I am unworthy to be called the child of God, for I esteemed myself all too highly on earth and placed too little value upon this surpassing glory and happiness. Were I still in the world and with the knowledge I now have of the heavenly glory, I would, were it possible, suffer a thousand years of imprisonment, or endure illness, persecution or other misfortunes. Now I have proven true that all the sufferings of the world are nothing measured by the glory to be manifested in the children of God." 11. We find many, even among nominal Christians, with so little patience they scarce can endure a word of criticism, even when well deserved. Rather than suffer from the world some slight reproach, some trifling loss, for the sake of the Gospel, they will renounce that Gospel and Christ. But how will it be in the day of revelation? Beloved, let us be wise now and not magnify our temporal sufferings; let us patiently submit to them as does creation, according to Paul's teaching. We may imagine the earth saying: "I permit myself to be plowed and cultivated for man's benefit, notwithstanding the Christians whom I bless are in the minority, the great mass of those profiting by me being wicked men. What am I to do? I will endure the conditions and permit myself to be tilled because my Creator so orders; meanwhile I hope for a different order eventually, when I shall no longer be subject to wickedness and obliged to serve God's enemies." 12. Peter also alludes to the new order of creation, saying: "The heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall be dissolved with fervent heat ... But according to his promise, we look for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness." 2 Pet 3, 10 and 13. In other words: Here on earth men as a rule are dishonorable and wicked and obey not the will of the Lord God as it is done in heaven; but the day will come when only righteousness and holiness shall dwell on the earth--none but godly, righteous souls. As in heaven all is righteousness, the devil being banished, so on the last day, Satan and all the ungodly shall be thrust from the earth. Then will there be none but holy ones in both heaven and earth, who will in fullness of joy possess all things. These will be the elect. This is Peter's meaning in the words, "According to his promise, we look for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness." Paul adds that all creation waits with us for the revelation, groaning and crying out in anguish. 13. But Paul protects the creature from condemnation and reproach for sinful submission to abuse. He says, in effect: "True, it is subject to vanity, yet not willingly." Likewise I do not desire to suffer reproach as a heretic and a deceiver, but I endure it for God's sake, who permits it. This attitude on my part does not make me partaker of the sin committed against me by enemies of the truth who reproach me. The case is the same as that of the creature suffering abuse for the sake of him who has subjected it. And you Christians are to imitate the example of creation. The sun seems to say: "Great God, I am thy creature; therefore I will perform, I will suffer, whatsoever is the divine will." So when the Lord God sends upon you some affliction and says, "Endure a little suffering for my sake; I will largely repay it," you are to say: "Yes, gladly, blessed Lord. Because it is thy will, I will suffer it with a willing heart." OF HOPE. It also belongs to the consolation against suffering to be conscious that the suffering will not last forever, but will sometime have an end--on the day of judgment, when the godless shall be separated from the godly. For this life on earth is nothing else than a masquerade where people walk in masks, and one sees another different than he is. He who appears to be an angel is a devil, and those considered the children of the devil are angels and the children of our dear Lord. Hence it is that they are attacked, plagued, martyred and put to death as heretics and children of the devil. This masquerade must be tolerated until the day of judgment; when the wicked will be unmasked and will no longer be able to pass as holy people.[1] The text now continues: "That the creation itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the liberty of the glory of the children of God." "[Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.]" [Footnote 1: This paragraph is from the pamphlet edition of 1535.] 14. We Christians are not the only beings to receive deliverance, Paul declares; the creature in bondage has the same hope of release as the poor, enslaved human being. Sun, moon and every other created thing is captive to the devil and to wicked people, and must serve them in every form of sin and vice. Hence these sigh and complain, waiting for the manifestation of the children of God, when the devil and the ungodly shall be thrust into hell, and for all eternity be denied sight of sun and moon, the enjoyment of a drop of water or a breath of air, and forever deprived of every blessing. 15. So the apostle tells us, "Creation itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption." In other words, creation must now subserve most shameful ends. Sun, moon and all creatures must be slaves to the devil and the ungodly because God so desires. He wills for his beautiful creation to lie at the feet of Satan and his adherents and to serve them for the present. Likewise many a sensitive heart is compelled to obey a tyrant or a Turk because the Lord has imposed that servitude upon it. Some may even have to clean the Turk's boots, or perform still more menial duties, and in addition suffer all sorts of indignities from that individual. 16. These words, "Creation itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption," signify that all created things must until the final reckoning be servants and menials, not to the godly, but to the devil and wicked men. Paul himself regards with pity the sun and other creatures because of their forced service to Satan and to tyrannical beings. The created works no more desire such servility than we desire subjection to the Turk. Nevertheless, they submit and wait--for what? The glorious liberty of the children of God. Then shall they be released from slavery and be no longer bound to serve the wicked and worthless. More than that, in their freedom they will have a grandeur far in excess of their present state and shall minister only unto God's children. They will be done with bondage to the devil. "For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now." 17. Paul uses forcible language here. Creation is aware, he says, not only of its future deliverance from the bondage of corruption, but of its future grandeur. It hopes for the speedy coming of its glory, and waits with the eagerness of a maiden for the dance. Seeing the splendor reserved for itself, it groans and travails unceasingly. Similarly, we Christians groan and intensely desire to have done at once with the Turks, the Pope, and the tyrannical world. Who would not weary of witnessing the present knavery, ungodliness and blasphemy against Christ and his Gospel, even as Lot wearied of the ungodliness he beheld in Sodom? Thus Paul says that creation groaneth and travaileth while waiting for the revelation and the glorious liberty of the children of God. 18. "And not only so," he adds, "but ourselves also, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for our adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body." We pray, we cry with great longing, in the Lord's Prayer, "Thy kingdom come," meaning: "Help, dear Lord, and speed the blessed day of thy second advent, that we may be delivered from the wicked world, the devil's kingdom, and may be released from the awful distress we suffer--inwardly from our own consciences and outwardly from the wicked. Afflict to the limit these old bodies of ours so long as we may obtain others not sinful, as these; not given to iniquity and disobedience; bodies that can never know illness, persecution or death; bodies delivered from all physical and spiritual distress and made like unto thine own glorified body, dear Lord Jesus Christ. Thus may we finally realize our glorious redemption. Amen." 19. Paul uses a peculiar word here in the text, which we cannot render by any other in our language than "travail." It carries the idea of pains and pangs such as a woman knows in childbirth. The mother's ardent desire is to be delivered. She longs for it with an intensity that all the wealth, honor, pleasure and power of the world could not awaken. This is precisely the meaning of the word Paul applies to creation. He declares it to be in travail, suffering pain and anguish in the extremity of its desire for release. But who can discern the anguish of creation? Reason cannot believe, nor human wisdom imagine, the thing. "It is impossible," declares reason. "The sun cannot be more glorious, more pleasing and beneficent. And what is lacking with the moon and stars and the earth? Who says the creature is in travail or unwillingly suffers its present state?" The writer of the text, however, declares creation to be weary of present conditions of servitude, and as eager for liberation as a mother for deliverance in the hour of her anguish. Truly it is with spiritual sight, with apostolic vision, that Paul discerns this fact in regard to creation. He turns away from this world, oblivious to the joys and the sufferings of earthly life, and boasts alone of the future, eternal life, unseen and unexperienced. Thus he administers real and effectual comfort to Christians, pointing them to a future life for themselves and all created things after this sinful life shall have an end. 20. Therefore, believers in Christ are to be confident of eternal glory, and with sighs and groans to implore the Lord God to hasten the blessed day of the realization of their hopes. For so Christ has taught us to pray in the Lord's Prayer, "Thy kingdom come." May he who has commanded give us grace and strength to perform, and a firm faith in our future glory. Our faith is not to be exercised for the attainment of earthly riches, but as a means to bring us into another life. We are not baptized unto the present life, nor do we receive the Gospel as ministering to our temporal good; these things are to point us to yonder eternal life. God grant the speedy coming of the glad day of our redemption, when we shall realize all these blessings, which now we hear of and believe in through the Word. Amen. _Fifth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 1 Peter 3, 8-15. 8 Finally, be ye all like-minded, compassionate, loving as brethren, tender-hearted, humble-minded: 9 not rendering evil for evil, or reviling for reviling; but contrariwise blessing; for hereunto were ye called, that ye should inherit a blessing. 10 For, He that would love life, And see good days, Let him refrain his tongue from evil, And his lips that they speak no guile: 11 And let him turn away from evil, and do good; Let him seek peace, and pursue it. 12 For the eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, And his ears unto their supplication: But the face of the Lord is upon them that do evil. 13 And who is he that will harm you, if ye be zealous of that which is good? 14 But even if ye should suffer for righteousness' sake, blessed are ye: and fear not their fear, neither be troubled; 15 but sanctify in your hearts Christ as Lord. EXHORTATION TO THE FRUITS OF FAITH. 1. Here you have enumerated again a long list of eminently good works enjoined upon Christians who believe and have confessed their faith in the Gospel. By such fruits is faith to be manifest. Peter classifies these works according to the obligations of Christians to each other, and their obligations to enemies and persecutors. 2. Immediately preceding the text, Peter has been instructing concerning the domestic relations of husband and wife; how they should live together as Christians in love and companionship, giving due honor and patiently and reasonably bearing with each other. Now he extends the exhortation to Christians in general, enjoining them to live together in Christian love, like brothers and sisters of a household. In the rehearsal of many preëminently noble virtues and works, he portrays the ideal church, beautiful in its outward adornment, in the grace wherewith it shines before men. With such virtues the Church pleases and honors God, while angels behold with joy and delight. And what earthly thing is more desirable to man's sight? What happier and more pleasing society may he seek than the company of those who manifest a unity of heart, mind and will; brotherly love, meekness, kindliness and patience, even toward enemies? Surely, no man is too depraved to command such goodness and to desire companionship among people of this class. 3. The first virtue is one frequently mentioned by the apostles. Paul, for instance, in Romans 12, 16, says: "Be of the same mind one toward another." Also in Ephesians 4, 3: "Giving diligence to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." Harmony is the imperative virtue for the Christian Church. Before the other virtues--love, meekness--can be manifest, there must first be concord and unity of heart among all. It is impossible that outward circumstances of human life be always the same; much dissimilarity in person, station, and occupation is inevitable. To this very unlikeness and to the natural depravity of flesh and blood is due the discord and disagreement of men in this world. Let one become conscious of personal superiority in point of uprightness, learning, skill or natural ability, or let him become aware of his loftier station in life, and he immediately grows self-complacent, thinks himself better than his fellows, demands honor and recognition from all men, is unwilling to yield to or serve an inferior and thinks himself entitled to such right and privilege because of his superiority and virtue. 4. Pride is the common vice of the world, and the devil fosters it among his numerous followers thereby causing every sort of misery and unhappiness, corrupting all ranks and stations, and rendering men vicious, depraved and incapable of executing good. In opposition to this vice the apostles diligently admonish Christians to be of one mind, regardless of station or occupation, since every individual must remain in the position to which he has been ordained and called of God. All ranks and stations cannot be one. Particularly is this true in the Church; for in addition to the outward difference of person, station, and so on, there are manifold divine gifts unequally distributed and varyingly imparted. Yet these many dissimilarities, both spiritual and secular, are to be amenable to the unity of the spirit, as Paul calls it, or a spiritual unity. Just as the members of the physical body have different offices and perform different functions, no one member being able to do the work of the other, and yet all are in the unity of one bodily life; so also Christians, whatever the dissimilarity of language, office and gift among them, must live, increase and be preserved in unity and harmony of mind, as in one body. 5. This matter of harmony is the first and most necessary commandment enjoined by the doctrine of faith; ay, this virtue is the first fruit which faith is to effect among Christians, who are called in one faith and baptism. It is to be the beginning of their Christian love. For true faith necessarily creates in all believers the spirit that reasons: "We are all called by one Word, one baptism and Holy Spirit, to the same salvation; we are alike heirs of the grace and the blessings of God. Although one has more and greater gifts than another, he is not on that account better before God. By grace alone, without any merit of ours, we are pleasing to God. Before him none can boast of himself." 6. How can I think myself better than another by reason of my person or my gifts, rank or office? Or what more than I has another to boast of before God concerning himself? No one has a different baptism or sacrament, a different Christ, from mine, or grace and salvation other than I have. And no individual can have another faith than have Christians in general, nor does he hear any other Gospel or receive a different absolution, be he lord or servant, noble or ignoble, poor or rich, young or old, Italian or German. When one imagines himself different from or better than his fellows, desiring to exalt and glorify himself above others, he is truly no longer a Christian; because he is no longer in that unity of mind and faith essential to Christians. Christ with his grace is always the same, and cannot be divided or apportioned within himself. 7. Not without reason did the beloved apostles urge this point. They clearly saw how much depends upon it, and what evil and harm result from disregard of the commandment. Where this commandment is dishonored, schisms and factions will necessarily arise to corrupt pure doctrine and faith, and the devil will sow his seed, which afterwards can be eradicated only with difficulty. When once self-conceit rules, and one, pretending more learning, wisdom, goodness and holiness than his fellows, begins to despise others and to draw men to himself, away from the unity of mind which makes us one in Christ, and when he desires the first praise and commendation for his own doctrine and works, his own preaching, then the harm is already done; faith is overthrown and the Church is rent. When unity becomes division, certainly two sects cannot both be the true Church. If one is godly, the other must be the devil's own. On the other hand, so long as unity of faith and oneness of mind survives, the true Church of God abides, notwithstanding there may be some weakness in other points. Of this fact the devil is well aware; hence his hostility to Christian unity. His chief effort is to destroy harmony. "Having that to contend with," he tells himself, "my task will be a hard and wearisome one." 8. Therefore, Christians should be all the more careful to cherish the virtue of harmony, both in the Church and in secular government. In each instance there is of necessity much inequality. God would have such dissimilarity balanced by love and unity of mind. Let everyone be content, then, with what God has given or ordained for him, and let him take pleasure in another's gifts, knowing that in eternal blessings he is equally rich, having the same God and Christ, the same grace and salvation; and that although his standing before God may differ from that of his fellows, he is nevertheless in no way inferior to them, nor is anyone for the same reason at all better than or superior to himself. 9. In temporal affairs, every inequality in the world can be harmonized by a unity of mind and heart. In relations other than spiritual there is mutual love and friendship. How great the outward dissimilarity between man and wife--in person, nature and employment! likewise between masters and their subjects. Yet, in mutual conscientiousness they mutually agree and are well satisfied with each other. So it would be possible to enjoy life upon earth in peace and happiness were it not that the devil cannot suffer it. He must divide hearts and alienate love, allowing no one to take pleasure in another. He who is illustrious, of noble birth, or has power or riches, feels bound to despise others as silly geese or witless ducks. SYMPATHY A CHRISTIAN VIRTUE. 10. The other virtues enjoined by Peter are easily recognized--"Compassionate, loving as brethren, tenderhearted, and humbleminded" [Luther translates "friendly"--courteous]. These particularly teach that Christians should esteem one another. God has subjected them all to love and has united them, with the design that they shall be of one heart and soul, and each care for the other as for himself. Peter's exhortation was especially called for at that time, when Christians were terribly persecuted. Here a pastor, there a citizen, was thrown into prison, driven from wife, child, house and home, and finally executed. Such things happen even now, and may become yet more frequent considering that unfortunate people are harassed by tyrants, or led away by the Turks, and Christians are thus dispersed in exile here and there. Wherever by his Word and faith God has gathered a church, and that spiritual unity, the bond of Christianity, exists in any measure, there the devil has no peace. If he cannot effect the destruction of that church by factiousness, he furiously persecutes it. Then it is that body, life and everything we have must be jeopardized--put to the stake--for the sake of the Church. 11. Christians, according to Peter, should, in the bond of a common heart and mind, sympathetically share the troubles and sufferings of their brethren in the faith, whoever and wherever the brethren may be. They are to enter into such distresses as if themselves suffering, and are to reason: "Behold, these suffer for the sake of my precious faith, and standing at the front, are exposed to the devil, while I have peace. It does not become me to rejoice in my security and to manifest my pleasure. For what befalls my dear brethren affects me, and my blessings are the cause of their misfortune. I must participate in their suffering as my own." According to the admonition of Hebrews 13, 3: "Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; that is, as if in the same bonds and distress. Remember them that are illtreated, as being yourselves also in the body;" as members of the same body. 12. We are all bound to one another, just as in the body one member is bound to another. As you know by your own physical experience, "Whether one member suffereth, all the members suffer with it; or one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it," as Paul says in 1 Corinthians 12, 26. Note how, when a foot is trodden upon or a finger pinched, the whole body is affected: eyes twitch, nose is contorted, mouth cries out--all the members are ready to rescue and help. No one member can forsake the others. In reality not the foot or the finger is injured, but the whole body suffers the accident. On the other hand, benefit received by one member is pleasing to all, and the whole body rejoices with it. Now the same principle should hold in the Church, because it likewise is one body of many members with one mind and heart. Such unity naturally entails the participation by each individual in the good and evil of every other one. 13. This virtue of sympathy, resulting as it does from a unity of mind and faith, is impossible to the world. In the world every man looks only upon what benefits himself and regards not how others, especially the godly, fare. Indeed, the world is capable of scornful smiles and extreme pleasure at sight of Christians in poverty and distress, and in their sufferings it can give them vinegar and gall to drink. But you who claim to be a Christian, should know it is yours to share the sufferings of your brethren and to prove your heartfelt sympathy with them. If you cannot do more, at least show it with comforting words or prayer. Their suffering concerns you as well as themselves, and you must expect the same afflictions from the devil and the wicked world. OF LOVE. 14. "Loving as brethren." This virtue must prevail among Christians everywhere. They are to manifest toward one another the love and faithfulness of brothers according to the flesh. It is a law of nature that brothers have a peculiar confidence in one another, being of the same blood and flesh and having a common inheritance. Particularly is this true when in distress. Although they may not be united in other respects, yet when stranger blood assails and necessity comes, they of the same flesh and blood will take one another's part, uniting person, property and honor. 15. Likewise Christians should exercise a peculiar brotherly love and faithfulness toward one another, as having one Father in heaven and one inheritance, and in the bond of Christianity being of one faith, united in heart and mind. None may despise another. Them among us who are still weak, frail and eccentric in faith and morals, we are to treat with gentleness, kindness and patience. They must be exhorted, comforted, strengthened. We should do by them as do the brothers and sisters of a household toward the member who is weak or frail or in need. Indeed we cannot otherwise dwell in peace. If we are to live together we must bear with one another much weakness, trouble and inconvenience; for we cannot all be equally strong in faith and courage and have equal gifts and possessions. There is none without his own numerous weaknesses and faults, which he would have others tolerate. OF MERCY. 16. "Tenderhearted, humbleminded" [friendly]. Here Peter has in mind mankind in general--friends and enemies, Christians and persecutors. Owing to original sin, man is naturally disposed to seek revenge, especially upon those who injure him without cause. If he can do no more, he at least maliciously invokes evil upon his enemy and rejoices in his misfortune. Now, Christians more than any others in this world are innocently persecuted, injured, oppressed and aggrieved, even by those having the name and honor of Christians, a thing of frequent occurrence today. God's people are aggrieved by such treatment, and if the natural instinct of flesh and blood could have its way, they would gladly revenge themselves; just as they of the world mutually exercise their revenge, not content until passion is cooled. 17. But a Christian should not, and indeed consistently he cannot, be unmerciful and vindictive, for he has become a child of God, whose mercy he has accepted and therein continues to live. He cannot seek pleasure in injury to his neighbor or enjoy his misfortune. He cannot maintain a bitter or hard and stubborn heart toward him. Rather he is disposed to show mercy even to his hostile neighbor, and to pity his blindness and misery; for he recognizes that neighbor as under God's wrath and hastening to everlasting ruin and condemnation. Thus the Christian is already more than revenged on his enemy. Therefore he should be friendly towards the hostile neighbor and do him every kindness he will permit, in an effort to lead him to repentance. 18. Yet, in showing mercy, as frequently enjoined heretofore we are not to interfere with just and ordained punishments. God's Word does not teach us to demand mercy or commend kindness where sin and evil practices call for punishment, as the world would have us believe when their sins merit rebuke, particularly the vices of those in high places. These transgressors claim that when reproved their honor is assailed and occasion is given for contempt of their office and authority, and for rebellion, a thing not to be tolerated. This is not true. The lesson teaches the duty of each individual toward all other individuals, not toward the God-ordained office. Office and person must be clearly distinguished. The officer or ruler in his official capacity is a different man from what he is as John or Frederick. The apostle or preacher differs from the individual Peter or Paul. The preacher has not his office by virtue of his own personality; he represents it in God's stead. Now, if any person be unjustly persecuted, slandered and cursed, I ought to and will say: "Thank God;" for in God I am richly rewarded for it. But if one dishonors my baptism or sacrament, or the Word God has commanded me to speak, and so opposes not me but himself, then it is my duty not to be silent nor merciful and friendly, but to use my God-ordained office to admonish, threaten and rebuke, with all earnestness, both in season and out of season--as Paul says in 2 Timothy 4, 2--those who err in doctrine or faith or who do not amend their lives; and this regardless of who they are or how it pleases them. 19. But the censured may say: "Nevertheless you publicly impugn my honor; you give me a bad reputation." I answer: Why do you not complain to him who committed the office to me? My honor is likewise dear to me, but the honor of my office must be more sacred still. If I am silent where I ought to rebuke, I sully my own honor, which I should maintain before God in the proper execution of my office; hence I with you deserve to be hanged in mid-day, to the utter extinguishment of my honor and yours. No, the Gospel does not give you authority to say the preacher shall not, by the Word of God, tell you of your sin and shame. What does God care for the honor you seek from the world when you defy his Word with it? To the world you may seem to defend your honor with God and a good conscience, but in reality you have nothing to boast of before God but your shame. This very fact you must confess if you would retain your honor before him; you must place his honor above that of all creatures. The highest distinction you can achieve for yourself is that of honoring God's Word and suffering rebuke. 20. "Yes, but still you attack the office to which I am appointed." No, dear brother, our office is not assailed when I and you are reminded of our failure to do right, to conduct the office as we should. But the Word of God rebukes us for dishonoring that divinely ordained appointment and abusing it in violation of his commandment. Therefore you cannot call me to account for reproving you. However, were I not a pastor or preacher, and had I no authority to rebuke you, then it would be my duty and my pleasure to leave your honor and that of every other man unscathed. But if I am to fill a divine office and to represent not my own but God's dignity, then for your own sake I must not and will not be silent. If you do wrong, and disgrace and dishonor come upon you, blame yourself. "Thy blood shall be upon thine own head," says Scripture, 1 Kings 2, 37. Certainly when a judge sentences a thief to the gallows, that man's honor is impugned. Who robs you of your honor but yourself, by your own theft, your contempt of God, disobedience, murder, and so on? God must give you what you deserve. If you consider it a disgrace to be punished, then consider it also no honor to rob, steal, practice usury and do public wrong; you disgrace yourself by dishonoring God's commandment. 21. This much by way of reminder of the difference between official rebuke and personal anger and revenge. It must constantly be kept before us because of the artfulness of flesh and blood, which ever seeks to disregard that difference. True, God would have all men to be merciful and friendly, to forgive and not to avenge wrong; but the office, which is ordained for the punishment of the wicked, will not always admit of that course. Few are willing to forgive, and therefore God must enforce his government over the merciless. They must be punished without mercy. This divine principle must not be restricted. Neither must it be applied beyond measure. Every official must be careful not to exceed the demands of his office, exercising his own revenge, his own envy and hatred, in the name and under pretense of that position. 22. Peter continues to expatiate upon this topic--the good works he has been discussing: gentleness, mercy, friendliness--citing beautiful passages of Scripture and using other exhortations--to incite Christians to practice these virtues. He says: "Not rendering evil for evil, or reviling for reviling; but contrariwise blessing: for hereunto were ye called, that ye should inherit a blessing." 23. We have now seen whose prerogative it is to avenge, rebuke and punish evil. This passage does not refer to official duty. When the judge declares sentence of execution upon a thief we have truly an instance of vengeance and reproach, and a public and extreme reflection upon honor. But it is God's judgment and his doing, with which we are not here concerned. The Christian of true faith and innocent life, who confesses his doctrine and belief, and as he is commanded rebukes opposing forces, will provoke the devil and the world, and will be persecuted, oppressed and harassed in the name of office and right, even by individuals whose official duty it is to protect the godly and restrain unjust power. If these cannot do more, they will at least annoy, hinder and oppose that Christian as far as possible. If the Christian be quick-tempered and fail to curb his anger and impatience, he will effect no good. He will only bring upon himself that disquiet of heart which consumes and worries itself with thoughts of revenge and retaliation upon the offender; which when the devil perceives, he rejoices. He so urges and instigates as to cause more mischief on both sides. Thus he doubly injures the Christian--through his enemy and through the anger wherewith the Christian torments himself and spoils his own peace. OF PATIENCE. 24. What then shall we do, you say, when we must suffer such abuse and without redress? The only resource, Peter says, is to possess your heart in patience and commit the matter to God. This is all that remains when they whose duty it is will not help you, nor restrain and punish the wrong, but even do you violence themselves. If the evil receive not judicial punishment, let it go unpunished until God looks into it. Only see that you keep a quiet conscience and a loving heart, not allowing yourself, on account of the devil and wicked men, to be disturbed and deprived of your good conscience, your peaceful heart and your God-given blessing. But if in your official capacity you are commanded to punish the evil, or if you can obtain protection and justice from rightful authorities, avail yourself of these privileges without anger, hatred or bitterness, ay, with a heart that prompts to give good for evil and blessing for reviling. 25. Such conduct is becoming you as Christians, the apostle says, for you are a people called to inherit a blessing. Oh, wonderful and glorious fact, that God has decreed and appropriated to you this blessing whereby all the riches of his grace and everything good are yours! and that he will abundantly give you his Spirit to remain with you, blessing body and soul, if only you hold fast his grace and do not allow yourselves to be deprived of it. What price would you not gladly pay for this blessing, were it purchasable, instead of being freely given, without your merits, and were you privileged thus to buy the assurance of having a God so gracious, one willing to bless you in time and eternity? Who would not willingly give even body and life, or joyfully undergo all suffering to have the perfect assurance of heart which says: "I know I am a child of God, who has received me into his grace and I live in the sure hope that I will be eternally blessed and saved." Think, Peter says, what a vast difference God makes between you and others because you are Christians. He has appointed you to be heirs of everlasting grace and blessing and of eternal life. But they who are not Christians--what have they but a terrible sentence like a weight about their necks? the sentence pronouncing them children of the curse and of eternal condemnation. 26. If men would take this to heart, it would be easy by teaching and persuasion to win them to friendship and kindness toward their fellow-men; to induce them not to return evil or reviling from motive of revenge, but when their own privileges and protection and the punishment of evil cannot be obtained, quietly and peaceably to suffer injury rather than lose their eternal comfort and joy. Christians have excellent reason, a powerful motive, for being patient and not revengeful or bitter in the fact that they are so richly blessed of God and given that great glory whereof, as Peter afterwards remarks, they cannot be deprived, nor can they suffer its loss, if only they abide in it. The apostle emphasizes this fact and further persuades Christians by citing the beautiful passage in Psalm 34, 12-16: "He that would love life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile: and let him turn away from evil, and do good; let him seek peace, and pursue it. For the eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and his ears unto their supplication: but the face of the Lord is upon them that do evil." 27. These words the Holy Spirit uttered long ago through the prophet David, for the instruction and admonition of all saints and children of God. David presents to us the matter as he daily saw it in his own life and learned from his own experience, and as he gathered from examples of the dear fathers from the beginning of the world. "Come hither, dear children," he would say, "if you will be taught and advised, I will give you sound instruction as to how we are to fear God and become his children. Who desires peace and comfort?" "Oh, who would not desire peace and comfort?" cries the world. For these everyone seeks and strives, and all the efforts of the world are directed toward this end. THE CHRISTIAN'S PEACE. 28. There are two ways to the goal of peace. One is that chosen by the world. The world seeks to obtain peace by preserving its own with violence. It desires the death of all who oppose it and will suffer injury or evil in word or deed from no one. This method, it is true, is appointed to governmental authority. It is the duty of civil rulers to faithfully employ it to arrest and hinder evil as far as possible. But they can never wholly restrain evil nor punish every offense. Much wickedness will remain, particularly secret evil, which must punish itself, either by repentance here or in hell hereafter. By this procedure Christians will not accomplish for themselves any personal advantage; the world is too wicked and it will not give them support. 29. Therefore, if you desire peace for yourself personally, particularly as a Christian, you must choose another way. The Psalm shows it to you when it says: "Refrain thy tongue from evil, and thy lips that they speak no guile." This injunction really applies to doctrine, meaning that we are to abide by the true Word of God and not to allow ourselves to be seduced by false teaching. But Peter here extends the application to the outward life and conduct of Christians in the work, the circumstances being such as to call for this admonition in the matter of refraining the tongue. On account of the faith and confession for which men are called Christians, they must suffer much; they are endangered, hated, persecuted, oppressed and harassed by the whole world. Christ foretold (Mt 10, 22): "Ye shall be hated of all men for my name's sake." Easily, then, Christians, might believe they have cause to return evil, and being still flesh and blood mortals, they are inevitably moved to be angry and to curse, or to forsake their confession and doctrine and with unbelievers to join the false church with its idolatrous teaching. Here the Psalm admonishes: Dear Christian, let not all this move you to rave, curse, blaspheme and revile again, but abide in the blessing prepared for you to inherit; for you will not by violence remedy matters or obtain any help. The world will remain as it is, and will continue to hate and persecute the godly and believing. Of what use is it for you to hate, chafe and curse against its attitude? You only disturb your own heart with bitterness, and deprive yourself thereby of the priceless blessing bestowed upon you. 30. We have the same teaching in the fourth verse of Psalm 4, which comforts saints and strengthens them against the temptation and provocation to anger and impatience which they must experience in the world. "Be ye angry," David says, "and sin not: commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still." That is, although according to the nature of flesh and blood you fret because you are compelled to witness the prosperity of the world in its ungodly life and wickedness, and how it spites, despises and persecutes you with pride and insolence, nevertheless let not yourselves be easily provoked; let wrong, displeasure, vexation and worry remain outside the inner life; let them affect only the outward life, body and possessions. By no means let them become rooted in your heart. Still your hearts and content yourselves, and regard all this vexation as not worth losing sleep over. If you desire to serve God truly and to render acceptable sacrifice to him, then with faith in his Word place your hope in him as your dear Father who cares for you, hears you and will wondrously support you. GUARDING THE LIPS. 31. But the psalmist's additional words, "Refrain your lips that they speak no guile," refer, as I have said, primarily to confession of the doctrine; but there is another thought: When one is prompted to anger and to complaint about injury and wrong, in his impatience and irritation he cannot speak fairly concerning the matter of offense, but invariably exaggerates. So it is with anger and retaliation. One receiving but a pin-point wound will fly into a passion and be ready to break the offender's head. The individual that suffers a single adverse word immediately proceeds to abuse and slander in the extreme his opponent. In short, an angry heart knows no moderation and cannot equally repay, but must make of a splinter, even a mote, a great beam, or must fan a tiny spark into a volcano of flame, by retaliating with reviling and cursing. Yet it will not admit that it does wrong. It would, if possible, actually murder the offender, thus committing a greater wrong than it has suffered. 32. So wicked and unjust is human nature that when offended it stops not with equal measure in retribution; it goes beyond and in its anger and revenge spares neither the neighbor's honor nor his body and life. James 1, 20 says: "The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God"; that is, it suffers not a man to abide in his faith and good conscience. But official indignation, which is God's wrath, does not so. It seeks not the destruction of man, but only the punishment of the actual fault. Man's anger and revenge, so wicked and insatiable are they, return ten blows for one, or even double that number, and repay a single abusive word with a hundred. 33. So Peter admonishes you to restrain your tongues, to curb them, lest they suddenly escape your control and sin with wicked words, doing injury double that you have received. Guard your lips that your mouth utter not guile or falsehood through your anger, and that it may not calumniate, abuse and slander your neighbor contrary to truth and justice and in violation of the eighth commandment. Such conduct is, before God and man, unbecoming a Christian and leads to that most disgraceful vice of slander, which God supremely hates. It is the devil's own, whence he has his name of liar or slanderer--diabolus, or devil. GOOD WORKS. 34. The Psalm says further: "Turn away from evil and do good"; that is, beware lest on account of the wickedness of another you also become wicked, for anger and revenge meditate only harm and wickedness. Therefore be all the more diligent to do good, if you can, that your heart may retain its honor and joy and that you may abide in righteousness, and not fall from God's grace and from obedience to him into the service of the devil. By anger and revenge the devil tempts you, endeavoring to get you again into his toils and to embitter your heart and conscience until you shall exceed others in sin. 35. "Seek peace and pursue it," continues the apostle. This is a sublime exhortation, and faithful, divine counsel. You must not think, Peter would say, that peace will run after you, or that the world--much less the devil--will bring it into your house. Rather you will find the very opposite true. From without strife will be carried to you in bales, and within your own heart will be kindled anger and bitterness to fill you with everlasting disquiet. Therefore if you desire peace, wait not until other people help you to obtain it, nor until you create it for yourself by force and revenge. Begin with yourself. Turn from the evil to the good. Even undergo suffering to provide your heart with the peace which endures in spite of all that would rob you of it. Strive ever to keep your heart firm in the resolve: I will not be angry nor seek revenge, but will commit my affairs to God and to those whose duty it is to punish evil and wrong-doing. As for my enemy, may God convert and enlighten him. And however much more of violence and wrong I may suffer, I will not allow my heart to be robbed of its peace. 36. Notice, the way to preserve peace and to see good days even in evil times is to keep a silent tongue and a quiet heart through the comfort of divine grace and blessing. No outward occasion may be given for strife, but always peace is to be sought with good words, works and prayers. We must even pursue peace, follow after it, with genuine and strong suffering. Thus we preserve it by force. In no other way can a Christian see good days and hold fast his blessing. Remember you must make strenuous effort if you would not reject your blessing nor be influenced by another to carelessly lie and otherwise sin with your tongue. Flesh and blood are weak and sluggish in the matter of preserving peace, therefore Peter strengthens his exhortation and further encourages us by the promise of God's help and protection for the faithful and his punishment of their enemies. He says: "For the eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and his ears unto their supplication." 37. Inscribe this verse upon your heart in firm faith and see if it does not bring you peace and blessings. Try to believe that God sits above, sleepless and with his vigilant eye ever upon you. With watchful vision he beholds the righteous as they suffer violence and wrong. Why will you complain and become discouraged by reason of the harm and grief you experience, when the gracious eyes of the true Judge and God are upon you and his intent is to help you? All the wealth of the world would I give, if I might, to purchase that watchful care, or rather to obtain the requisite faith; for surely the lack is not in his regarding, but in our faith. GOD OVER ALL. 38. More than this, God's ears, the apostle tells us, are also open to the prayers of the righteous. As he looks upon you with gracious, winning eyes, so also are his ears alert to even the faintest sound. He hears your complaint, your sighing and prayer, and hears, too, willingly and with pleasure; as soon as you open your mouth, your prayer is heard and answered. 39. Again, Peter says: "The face of the Lord is upon them that do evil." True, God's eyes are upon the righteous, but nevertheless he sees also the others. In this case he beholds not with a friendly look or gracious countenance, but with a displeased and wrathful face. When a man is angry the forehead frowns, the nostrils dilate and the eyes flash. Such a manifestation of anger are we to understand by the Scripture when it refers here to "the face of the Lord." On the other hand it illustrates the pleased and gracious aspect of God by "the eyes of the Lord." 40. Now, why is "the face of the Lord" upon evil-doers and what is its effect? Certainly God's purpose is not to heed or to help them, to bestow blessing or success upon their evil-doing. His purpose is, according to the succeeding words in the psalm, "to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth." This is a terrible, an appalling sentence, before which a heart may well be prostrated as from a thunderbolt. And ungodly hearts would be thus appalled were they not so hardened as to despise God's Word. 41. Notwithstanding the indifference of the wicked, the sentence is passed. Verily it is no jest with God. It illustrates how sincerely he cares for the righteous and how he will avenge them on the wicked, toward whom his countenance bespeaks punishment in due time and the cutting off of their memory from the earth. In contrast, the righteous, because they have feared God and abode in their piety though suffering for it, shall, even here upon earth, live to see blessing and prosperity upon their children's children. Although for a time the company of the wicked conduct themselves with pride upon the earth, and imagine themselves secure beyond the possibility of being unseated, nevertheless when their hour comes they are suddenly hurled down from earth into the abyss of hell and must suffer the righteous to remain in possession of the earth. So testifies Christ in Matthew 5, 5, and Psalm 37 more fully explains the matter. 42. It is proven by all the examples of Scripture and also by the experience of the whole world from the beginning, that God casts down those who seek only to injure. They who have despised God's threats and angry countenance with security and defiance have at last experienced the fulfillment of these warnings and perished thereby. King Saul thought to destroy godly David, to exterminate his root and branch and blot out his name as if he had been a rebellious, accursed man. But God effected the very opposite. Because David in his sufferings and persecution walked in the fear of God and trusted him with simplicity, desiring no harm to his enemy, God's gracious eye was ever upon him and preserved him from that enemy. On the other hand, the angry face of God was bent upon King Saul, and before David was aware of it the king had fallen, and his whole family met ruin with him; they were obliged to surrender crown and kingdom to the persecuted David. 43. Christians should strengthen their faith with the comforting thought that God's gracious countenance is over them and he turns eye and ear toward them; and that on the other hand he looks with angry face upon their enemies and those seeking to injure, and will take a hand in their game, obliging them either to refrain from their evil-doing, or to perish by it. Such retribution is certain. No one can live long without proving by his own experience and that of other men the truth of the proverb, "Right will assert itself." However, we lack in faith and cannot wait God's hour. We think he delays too long and that we suffer too much. But in reality his time will come speedily, and we can well wait and endure if we believe in God, who but grants our enemies a brief opportunity to be converted. But their appointed hour is already at hand and they will not escape if it overtakes them without repentance. "And who is he that will harm you, if ye be zealous of that which is good? But even if ye should suffer for righteousness' sake, blessed are ye." 44. According to Peter's words here, you have a very great advantage over all your enemies, whoever they be, in being richly endowed by God with eternal blessing. You know he will protect, support and avenge you, hence you abide in your faith and godliness. Although your adversaries think to trouble and harm you, they can do you no real injury whatever they effect. For wherein can persecution harm if you strive for godliness and abide in it? Not by malice, might and violence can your enemies take from you, or diminish, your piety and God's grace, his help and blessing. And even from all the bodily and temporal harm they can inflict, you suffer no loss. For the more they seek to injure you, the more they hasten their own punishment and destruction, and the greater is your recompense from God. By the very fact that they slander, disgrace, persecute and trouble you, they multiply your blessing with God and further your cause, for God must the sooner consider your case, supporting you and overthrowing them. They but prepare your reward and benefit by their wicked, venomous hatred, their envy, anger and fury. At the same time they effect for themselves conditions the very reverse. Being condemned by their own evil consciences, they cannot in their hearts enjoy one good day, one peaceful hour; and they heap up for themselves God's wrath and punishment. 45. Indeed, you are all the more blessed, temporally and eternally, Peter declares, for the very reason that you suffer for righteousness' sake. You are so to regard the situation and to praise and thank God for your suffering. The apostle looks upon tribulation in this light and exalts it as supreme blessedness and a glorious thing. Christ says in Matthew 5, 11-12: "Blessed are ye when men shall reproach you, and persecute you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven." Oh, your adversaries should purchase a little of this comfort regardless of cost and boast of suffering a little for the sake of righteousness! Could they understand the promise and be worthy of it, how intensely might they desire to have suffered all and much more than they thought to inflict upon you, if only they might be blessed and prove the comfort of this precious, divine promise! "Fear not their fear, neither be troubled; but sanctify in your hearts Christ as Lord." 46. Here again Peter resorts to Scripture and cites a verse from the prophet Isaiah (ch. 8, 12-13) where he admonishes God's people not to be terror-stricken by the wrath and threats of men, but firmly and confidently to trust in God. The prophet speaks similarly in chapter 51, verse 7: "Fear ye not the reproach of men, neither be ye dismayed at their revilings." As if he would say: Why will you permit yourselves to be disturbed by the persecutions of men, however great, mighty and terrible enemies they may be, when you are blessed and happy in God to the extent that all creatures must pronounce you blessed? Moreover, you know the eyes of your God behold you and his ears are open to your cry, and whatever you desire and pray for is heard and granted. More than this, your adversaries are threatened by his angry face. What are all men--tyrants, pope, Turk, Tartars, ay, the devil himself--compared to this Lord, and what can they do against him, when and wheresoever he chooses to show his power? They are but as a straw to a mighty thunderbolt which makes the earth tremble. Therefore, if you are indeed Christians and believe in God you ought in no wise to fear all these adversaries, but rather, joyfully and with scornful courage to despise their defiance, their threatening and rage, as something utterly harmless to you; they are but effecting their own destruction in hurling themselves at the Majesty before which all creatures must tremble. TRUST IN GOD ENJOINED. 47. But this you are to do: Sanctify God; that is, regard and honor him as holy. This is nothing else than to believe his Word; be confident that in God you have truly one who, if you suffer for righteousness' sake, neither forgets nor forsakes, but graciously looks upon you and purposes to give his support and to revenge you on your enemies. Such faith and confession honors him as the true God, upon whom man can confidently and joyfully call for help, reposing his whole trust in him upon the authority of his sure Word and promise, which cannot deceive or fail. 48. In contrast, unbelievers cannot sanctify God; they cannot render him due honor, although they may talk much of him and display much divine worship. They do not accept God's Word as the truth, but always remain in doubt. In the hour of suffering they deem themselves utterly forgotten and forsaken by the Lord. Therefore they murmur and fret, being very impatient and disobedient toward God. They rashly seek to protect and revenge themselves by their own power. That very conduct betrays them as beings without a God, as blind, miserable, condemned heathen. Such are the great multitude of Turks, Jews, Papists and unbelieving saints today throughout the world. _Sixth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Romans 6, 3-11. 3 Or are ye ignorant that all we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? 4 We were buried therefore with him through baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we also might walk in newness of life. 5 For if we have become united with him in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection; 6 knowing this, that our old man was crucified with him, that the body of sin might be done away, that so we should no longer be in bondage to sin; 7 for he that hath died is justified from sin. 8 But if we died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him; 9 knowing that Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more; death no more hath dominion over him. 10 For the death that he died, he died unto sin once: but the life that he liveth, he liveth unto God. 11 Even so reckon ye also yourselves to be dead unto sin, but alive unto God in Christ Jesus. EXHORTATION TO CHRISTIAN LIVING. 1. In this epistle lesson Paul gives Christians instruction concerning the Christian life on earth, and connects with it the hope of the future and eternal life, in view of which they have been baptized and become Christians. He makes of our earthly life a death--a grave--with the understanding, however, that henceforth the risen man and the newness of life should be found in us. And he treats of this doctrine because of an error that always prevails: When we preach that upon us is bestowed grace and the forgiveness of sins, without any merit on our part, people are disposed to regard themselves as free from obligation and will do no works except those to which their own desires prompt them. This was Saint Paul's experience when he so strongly commended the grace of Christ and its consolation (ch. 5, 20), declaring that "where sin abounded, grace did abound more exceedingly," and that where there are many and great sins, there also reigns great, abundant and rich grace. The rude crowd cried: Oh, is it true that great grace follows upon great sin? In that case we will cheerfully load ourselves with sin so that we may receive the greater grace. GRACE DOES NOT GIVE LICENSE TO SIN. 2. Such argument Paul now confutes. He says: It is not the intention of the Gospel to teach sin or to allow it; it teaches the very opposite--how we may escape from sin and from the awful wrath of God which it incurs. Escape is not effected by any doings of our own, but by the fact that God, out of pure grace, forgives us our sins for his Son's sake; for God finds in us nothing but sin and condemnation. How then can this doctrine give occasion or permission to sin when it is so diametrically opposed to it and teaches how it is to be blotted out and put away? 3. Paul does not teach that grace is acquired through sin, nor that sin brings grace; he says quite the opposite--that "the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men," Rom 1, 18. But because the sins of men which are taken away are so grievous and numerous, the grace which drowns and destroys them must be mighty and abundant also. Where there is great thirst, a great draft is needed to quench it. Where there is a mighty conflagration, powerful streams of water are necessary to extinguish it. In cases of severe illness, strong medicine is essential to a cure. But these facts do not give us authority to say: Let us cheerfully drink to satiety that we may become more thirsty for good wine; or, Let us injure ourselves and make ourselves ill that medicine may do us more good. Still less does it follow that we may heap up and multiply sins for the purpose of receiving more abundant grace. Grace is opposed to sin and destroys it; how then should it strengthen or increase it? 4. Therefore he begins his sermon by inquiring, in this sixth chapter (verses 1-3): "What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound? God forbid. We who died to sin, how shall we any longer live therein?" In other words: How is it possible that because grace should destroy sin ye should live unto sin? And then, further to illustrate this, he says: "Or are ye ignorant that all we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?" 5. He speaks here in figurative language to clearly and forcibly impress this matter upon us; ordinarily it would have been sufficient for him to ask: "We who died to sin, how shall we any longer live therein?" that is to say, Inasmuch as ye have been saved from sin through grace, it is not possible that grace should command you to continue in sin, for it is the business of grace to destroy sin. Now, in the figurative words above quoted, he wishes to vividly remind us what Christ has bestowed upon us. He would say to us: Do but call to mind why you are Christians--you have been baptized into Christ. Do you know why and whereunto you have been baptized, and what it signifies that you have been baptized with water? The meaning is that not only have you there been washed and cleansed in soul through the forgiveness of sins, but your flesh and blood have been condemned, given over unto death, to be drowned, and your life on earth to be a daily dying unto sin. For your baptism is simply an overwhelming by grace--a gracious overwhelming--whereby sin in you is drowned; so may you remain subjects of grace and not be destroyed by the wrath of God because of your sin. Therefore, if you let yourself be baptized, you give yourself over to gracious drowning and merciful slaying at the hands of your God, and say to him: Drown and overwhelm me, dear Lord, for gladly would I henceforth, with thy Son, be dead to sin, that I may, with him, also live through grace. THE POWER OF BAPTISM. 6. When he says, "All we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death," and again, "We were buried therefore with him through baptism into death," he speaks in his own Pauline style concerning the power of baptism, which derives its efficacy from the death of Christ. By his death he has paid for and taken away our sins; his death has been an actual strangling and putting to death of sin, and it no longer has dominion over him. So we, also, through his death have obtained forgiveness of sins; that sin may not condemn us, we die unto sin through that power which Christ--because we are baptized into him--imparts to and works in us. 7. Yea, he further declares that we are not only baptized into his death, but, by the same baptism, we are buried with him into death; for in his death he took our sins with him into the grave, burying them completely and leaving them there. And it follows that, for those who through baptism are in Christ, sin is and shall remain completely destroyed and buried; but we, through his resurrection--which, by faith, gives us the victory over sin and death and bestows upon us everlasting righteousness and life--should henceforth walk in newness of life. 8. Having these things through baptism, we dare no longer obey--live unto--the sin which still dwells in our flesh and blood in this life; we must daily strangle it so that it may have no power nor life in us if we desire to be found in the estate and life of Christ. For he died unto sin, destroying it by his death and burying it in his grave; and he acquired life and the victory over sin and death by his resurrection, and bestows them upon us by baptism. The fact that Christ himself had to die for sin is evidence of the severe wrath of God against sin. Sin had to be put to death and laid away in the grave in the body of Christ. Thereby God shows us that he will not countenance sin in us, but has given us Christ and baptism for the purpose of putting to death and burying sin in our bodies. 9. Thus Paul shows us in these words what has been effected by Christ's death and burial, and what is the signification of our being buried with him. In the first place, Christ was buried that he might, through forgiveness, cover up and destroy our sin, both that which we have actually committed and that which is inherent in us; he would not have it inculpate and condemn us. In the second place, he was buried that he might, through the Holy Spirit, mortify this flesh and blood with its inherent sinful lusts; they must no longer have dominion over us, but must be subject to the Spirit until we are utterly freed from them. 10. Thus, we still lie with Christ in the grave according to the flesh. Although it be true that we have the forgiveness of sins, that we are God's children and possess salvation, yet all this is not perceptible to our own senses or to the world. It is hidden in Christ by faith until the judgment day. For we do not yet experience in ourselves such righteousness, such holiness, such life and such salvation as God's Word describes and as faith expects to find. Wherefore Paul says in Colossians 3, 3-4 (as we have heard in the Easter sermons), "Your life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ, who is our life, shall be manifested, then shall ye also with him be manifested in glory." 11. On the other hand, we are outwardly oppressed with the cross and sufferings, and with the persecution and torments of the world and the devil, as with the weight of a heavy stone upon us, subduing our old sinful nature and checking us against antagonizing the Spirit and committing other sins. "For if we have become united [planted together] with him in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection; knowing this, that our old man was crucified with him, that the body of sin might be done away, that so we should no longer be in bondage to sin; for he that hath died is justified from sin." 12. This is another distinctly apostolic discourse. Being baptized into Christ's death and buried with him, to which Paul had just referred, he here calls being united, or planted together, with Christ in the likeness of his death. Christ's death and resurrection and our baptism are intimately united with, and related to, one another. Baptism is not to be regarded a mere empty sign, as Anabaptists erroneously hold. In it is embodied the power of both Christ's death and resurrection. Hence Paul says, "we are planted together with him," engrafted into him as a member of his body, so that he is a power in us and his death works in us. Through baptism he dedicates us to himself and imparts to us the power of his death and resurrection, to the end that both death and life may follow in us. Hence our sins are crucified through his death, taken away, that they may finally die in us and no longer live. 13. Being placed under the water in baptism signifies that we die in Christ. Coming forth from the water teaches, and imparts to, us a new life in him, just as Christ remained not in death, but was raised again to life. Such life should not and can not be a life of sin, because sin was crucified before in us and we had to die to it. It must be a new life of righteousness and holiness, Christ through his resurrection finally destroyed sin, because of which he had to die, and instead he brought to himself the true life of righteousness, and imparts it to us. Hence we are said to be planted together with Christ or united with him and become one, so that we both have in us the power of his death and resurrection. The fruits and results of this power will be found in us after we are baptized into him. 14. The apostle speaks consolingly of the death of the Christian as a being planted, to show that the Christian's death and sufferings on earth are not really death and harm, but a planting unto life; being redeemed, by the resurrection, from death and sin, we shall live eternally. For that which is planted is not planted unto death and destruction, but planted that it may sprout and grow. So Christ was planted, through death, unto life; for not until he was released from this mortal life and from the sin which rested on him and brought him into death on our account, did he come into his divine glory and power. Since this planting begins in baptism, as said, and we by faith possess life in Christ, it is evident that this life must strike root in us and bear fruit. For that which is planted is not planted without purpose; it is to grow and bear fruit. So must we prove, by our new conversation and by our fruits, that we are planted in Christ unto life. CHRISTIAN GROWTH. 15. Paul gives the reason for new growth. He says: "Knowing this, that our old man was crucified with him, that the body of sin might be done away, that so we should no longer be in bondage to sin." It does not become us, as baptized Christians, to desire to remain in our old sinful estate. That is already crucified with Christ; the sentence of condemnation upon it has been pronounced and carried out. For that is what being crucified means. Just so, Christ, in suffering crucifixion for our sins, bore the penalty of death and the wrath of God. Christ, innocent and sinless, being crucified for our sins, sin must be crucified in our body; it must be utterly condemned and destroyed, rendered lifeless and powerless. We dare not, then, in any wise serve sin nor consent to it. We must regard it as actually condemned, and with all our power we must resist it; we must subdue and put it to death. 16. Paul here makes a distinction. He says, "Our old man was crucified with him [Christ]," and "that the body of sin might be done away." He intimates that the "old man" and "the body of sin" are two different things. By the term "old man" he means not only the body--the grossly sinful deeds which the body commits with its five senses--but the whole tree with all its fruits, the whole man as he is descended from Adam. In it are included body and soul, will, reason and understanding. Both inwardly and outwardly, it is still under the sway of unbelief, impiety and disobedience. Man is called old, not because of his years; for it is possible for a man to be young and strong and vigorous and yet to be without faith or a religious spirit, to despise God, to be greedy and vainglorious, or to live in pride or the conceit of wisdom and power. But he is called the old man because he is unconverted, unchanged from his original condition as a sinful descendant of Adam. The child of a day is included as well as the man of eighty years; we all are thus from our mother's womb. The more sins a man commits, the older and more unfit he is before God. This old man, Paul says, must be crucified--utterly condemned, executed, put out of the way, even here in this life. For where he still remains in his strength, it is impossible that faith or the spirit should be; and thus man remains in his sins, drowned under the wrath of God, troubled with an evil conscience which condemns him and keeps him out of God's kingdom. 17. The "new man" is one who has turned to God in repentance, one who has a new heart and understanding, who has changed his belief and through the power of the Holy Spirit lives in accordance with the Word and will of God. This new man must be found in all Christians; it begins in baptism or in repentance and conversion. It resists and subdues the old man and its sinful lusts through the power of the Holy Spirit. Paul declares, "They that are of Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with the passions and the lusts," Gal 5, 24. 18. Now, although in those who are new men, the old man is crucified, there yet, Paul says, remains in them in this life "the body of sin." By this we understand the remaining lusts of the old man, which are still felt to be active in the flesh and blood, and which would fain resist the spirit. But inasmuch as the head and life of sin are destroyed, these lusts cannot harm the Christian. Still the Christian must take care not to become obedient to them, lest the old man come to power again. The new man must keep the upper hand; the remaining sinful lusts must be weakened and subdued. And this body of ours must finally decay and turn to dust, thereby utterly annihilating sin in it. 19. Now, he says, if ye be dead to sin under the reign of the spirit and the new man, and adjudged to death under the reign of the body, ye must no longer permit sin to bring you under its dominion, lest it inculpate and condemn you. But ye must live as those who are wholly released from it, over whom it no longer has any right or power. For we read, "He that hath died is justified from sin." This is said of all who are dead. He that has died has paid for his sin; he need not die for it again, for he no longer commits sin and evil deeds. If sin be destroyed in man by the Spirit, and the flesh also is dead and gone, man is completely released and freed from sin. 20. Paul comprehends the whole existence of the Christian on earth in the death of Christ, and represents it as dead and buried, in the coffin; that is, the Christian has ceased from the life of sin, and has nothing more to do with it. He speaks of sin as being dead unto the Christian and of the latter as being dead unto sin for the reason that Christians no longer take part in the sinful life of the world. And, too, they are doubly dead. First, spiritually they are dead unto sin. And this, though painful and bitter to flesh and blood, is a blessed, a comfortable and happy dying, sweet and delightful, for it produces a heavenly life, pure and perfect. Secondly, they are physically dead--the body dies. But this is not really death; rather a gentle, soothing sleep. Therefore ye are, Paul would say, beyond measure happy. In Christ ye have already escaped death by dying unto sin; that death ye need die no more. It--the first death, which ye have inherited from Adam through sin--is already taken away from you. That being the real, the bitter and eternal death, ye are consequently freed from the necessity of dying. At the same time there is a death, or rather only the semblance of one, which ye must suffer because ye are yet on earth and are the descendants of Adam. SPIRITUAL AND PHYSICAL RESURRECTION. 21. The first death, inherited from Adam, is done away with, changed into a spiritual dying unto sin, by reason of which the soul no longer consents to sin and the body no longer commits it. Thus, in place of the death which sin has brought upon us, eternal life is already begun in you. Ye are now freed from the dreadful damning death; then accept the sweet, holy and blessed death unto sin, that ye may beware of sin and no longer serve it. Such is to be the result of the death of Christ into which ye are baptized; Christ has died and has commanded you to be baptized in order that sin might be drowned in you. 22. The other, the "little death," is that outward, physical death. In the Scriptures it is called a sleep. It is imposed upon the flesh, because, so long as we live on earth, the flesh never ceases to resist the spirit and its life. Paul says: "The flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; for these are contrary the one to the other; that ye may not do the things that ye would." Gal 5, 17. The spirit, or soul, says: I am dead unto sin and will not sin any more. But the flesh says: I am not dead and must make use of my life while I have it. The spirit declares: I believe that God has forgiven my sins and taken them away from me through Christ. But the flesh asks: What do I know of God or his will? The spirit resolves: I must be meek, pure, chaste, humble, patient, and seek the future life. But the flesh in reply makes a loud outcry: Away with your heaven! if only I had enough of bread and money and property here! Thus the flesh does continually, as long as it lives here; it draws and drags sin after itself; it is rebellious and refuses to die. Therefore God must finally put it to death before it becomes dead unto sin. 23. And after all, it is but a gentle and easy death. It is truly only a sleep. Since soul and spirit are no longer dead, the body shall not remain dead; it shall come forth again, cleansed and purified, on the last day, to be united with the soul. Then shall it be a gentle, pure and obedient body, without sin or evil lust. 24. These words of Paul are an admirable Christian picture of death, representing it not as an awful thing, but as something comforting and pleasant to contemplate. For how could Paul present a more attractive description than when he describes it as stripped of its power and repulsiveness and makes it the medium through which we attain life and joy? What is more desirable than to be freed from sin and the punishment and misery it involves, and to possess a joyful, cheerful heart and conscience? For where there is sin and real death--the sense of sin and God's wrath--there are such terror and dismay that man feels like rushing through iron walls. Christ says, in Luke 23, 30, quoting from the prophet Hosea (ch. 10, v. 8), that such a one shall pray that the mountains and the hills may fall on him and cover him. 25. That dreadful death which is called in the Scriptures the second death is taken away from the Christian through Christ, and is swallowed up in his life. In place of it there is left a miniature death, a death in which the bitterness is covered up. In it the Christian dies according to the flesh; that is, he passes from unbelief to faith, from the remaining sin to eternal righteousness, from woes and sadness and tribulation to perfect eternal joy. Such a death is sweeter and better than any life on earth. For not all the life and wealth and delight and joy of the world can make man as happy as he will be when he dies with a conscience at peace with God and with the sure faith and comfort of everlasting life. Therefore truly may this death of the body be said to be only a falling into a sweet and gentle slumber. The body ceases from sin. It no longer hinders or harasses the spirit. It is cleansed and freed from sin and comes forth again in the resurrection clothed with the obedience, joy and life which the spirit imparts. 26. The only trouble is that the stupid flesh cannot understand this. It is terrified by the mask of death, and imagines that it is still suffering the old death; for it does not understand the spiritual dying unto sin. It judges only by outward appearance. It sees that man perishes, decays under the ground and is consumed. Having only this abominable and hideous mask before its eyes, it is afraid of death. But its fear is only because of its lack of understanding. If it knew, it would by no means be afraid or shudder at death. Our reason is like a little child who has become frightened by a bugbear or a mask, and cannot be lulled to sleep; or like a poor man, bereft of his senses, who imagines when brought to his couch that he is being put into the water and drowned. What we do not understand we cannot intelligently deal with. If, for instance, a man has a penny and imagines it to be a five-dollar gold piece, he is just as proud of it as if it were a real gold piece; if he loses it he is as grieved as if he had lost that more valuable coin. But it does not follow that he has suffered such loss; he has simply deluded himself with a false idea. 27. Thus it is not the reality of death and burial that terrifies; the terror lies in the flesh and blood, which cannot understand that death and the grave mean nothing more than that God lays us--like a little child is laid in a cradle or an easy bed--where we shall sweetly sleep till the judgment day. Flesh and blood shudders in fear at that which gives no reason for it, and finds comfort and joy in that which really gives no comfort or joy. Thus Christians must be harassed by their ignorant and insane flesh, because it will not understand its own good or harm. They must verily fight against it as long as they live, at the cost of much pain and weariness. 28. There is none so perfect that he does not flee from and shudder at death and the grave. Paul complains and confesses of himself, and in his own person of all Christians: "For that which I do I know not: for not what I would, that do I practice." Rom 7, 15. In other words: By the spirit, I am well aware that when this body comes to die God simply lays me to rest in sweetest slumber, and I would gladly have my flesh to understand this; but I cannot bring it to it. The spirit indeed is willing and desires bodily death as a gentle sleep. It does not consider it to be death; it knows no such thing as death. It knows that it is freed from sin and that where there is no sin there is no death--life only. But the flesh halts and hesitates, and is in constant dread lest I die and perish in the abyss. It will not allow itself to be tamed and brought into that obedience and into that consoling view of death which the spirit exercises. Even Saint Paul cries out in anxiety of spirit: "Wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me out of the body of this death?" Rom 7, 24. Now we see what is meant by the statement, "The flesh lusteth against the Spirit." The flesh must be dragged along and compelled by the spirit to obediently follow, in spite of its resistance and trembling. It must be forced into submission until it is finally overcome. Just so the mother so deals with the child that is fretful and restless that she constrains it to sleep. 29. Paul says, "Knowing this, that our old man was crucified"--that is, we know that, in soul and spirit, we are already dead unto sin--"that the body of sin might be done away." The meaning is: Because the body does not willingly and cheerfully follow the spirit, but resists and would fain linger in the old life of sin, it is already sentenced, compelled to follow and to be put to death that sin may be destroyed in it. 30. He does not say that the body is destroyed as soon as a man has been baptized and is become a Christian, but that the body of sin is destroyed. The body which before was obstinate and disobedient to the spirit is now changed; it is no longer a body of sin but of righteousness and newness of life. So he adds, "that we should no longer be in bondage to sin." "But if we died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him; knowing that Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more; death no more hath dominion over him. For the death that he died, he died unto sin once; but the life that he liveth, he liveth unto God." 31. Here he leads us out of the death and grave of sin to the resurrection of spirit and body. When we die--spiritually unto sin, and physically to the world and self--what doth it profit us? Is there nothing else in store for the Christian but to die and be buried? By all means yes, he says; we are sure by faith that we also shall live, even as Christ rose from death and the grave and lives. For we have died with him, or, as stated above, "we have become united with him in the likeness of his death." By his death he has destroyed our sin and death; therefore we share in his resurrection and life. There shall be no more sin and death in our spirit or body, just as there is no more death in him. Christ, having once died and been raised again, dieth no more. There is nothing to die for. He has accomplished everything. He has destroyed the sin for which he died, and has swallowed up death in victory. And that he now lives means that he lives in everlasting righteousness, life and majesty. So, when ye have once passed through both deaths, the spiritual death unto sin and the gentle death of the body, death can no more touch you, no more reign over you. 32. This, then, is our comfort for the timidity of the poor, weak flesh which still shudders at death. If thou art a Christian, then know that thy Lord Jesus Christ, being raised from the dead, dieth no more; death hath no more dominion over him. Therefore, death hath no more dominion over thee, who art baptized into him. Satan is defied and dared to try all his powers and terrors on Christ; for we are assured, "Death no more hath dominion over him." Death may awaken anger, malice, melancholy, fear and terror in our poor, weak flesh, but it hath no more dominion over Christ. On the contrary, death must submit to the dominion of Christ, in his own person and in us. We have died unto sin; that is, we have been redeemed from the sting and power, the control, of death. Christ has fully accomplished the work by which he obtained power over death, and has bestowed that power upon us, that in him we should reign over death. So Paul says in conclusion: "Even so reckon ye also yourselves to be dead unto sin, but alive unto God in Christ Jesus." 33. "Reckon ye also yourselves," he says. Ye, as Christians, should be conscious of these things, and should conduct yourselves in all your walk and conversation as those who are dead to sin and who give evidence of it to the world. Ye shall not serve sin, shall not follow after it, as if it had dominion over you. Ye shall live in newness of life, which means that ye shall lead a godly life, inwardly by faith and outwardly in your conduct; ye shall have power over sin until the flesh--the body--shall at last fall asleep, and thus both deaths be accomplished in you. Then there will remain nothing but life--no terror or fear of death and no more of its dominion. _Seventh Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Romans 6, 19-23. 19 I speak after the manner of men because of the infirmity of your flesh: for as ye presented your members as servants to uncleanness and to iniquity unto iniquity, even so now present your members as servants to righteousness unto sanctification. 20 For when ye were servants of sin, ye were free in regard of righteousness. 21 What fruit then had ye at that time in the things whereof ye are now ashamed? for the end of those things is death. 22 But now being made free from sin and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto sanctification, and the end eternal life. 23 For the wages of sin is death; but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. EXHORTATION TO RESIST SIN. 1. The text properly should include several verses preceding. Paul has not yet concluded the subject of the epistle for last Sunday. There he urges that since we are baptized into Christ and believe, we should henceforth walk in a new life; that we are now dead to sin because we are in Christ, who by his death and resurrection has conquered and destroyed sin. He illustrates the power of Christ's death and resurrection by saying: "For sin shall not have dominion over you: for ye are not under law, but under grace." That is, being in Christ and possessed of the power of his resurrection--in other words, having God's grace and the forgiveness of sins--you can now readily resist sin. Although you may not perfectly fulfill the letter of the Law in its demands, yet it cannot condemn you as a sinner nor subject you to God's wrath. GOOD WORKS NOT FORBIDDEN. 2. Then Paul presents again the question raised by the obstinate world when it encounters this doctrine. "What then?" he asks, "shall we sin because we are not under the law but under grace?" It is the perversity of the world that, when we preach about forgiveness of sins by pure grace and without merit of man, it should either say we forbid good works, or else try to draw the conclusion that man may continue to live in sin and follow his own pleasure; when the fact is, we should particularly strive to live a life the very reverse of sinful, that our doctrine may draw people to good works, unto the praise and honor and glory of God. Our doctrine, rightly apprehended, does not influence to pride and vice, but to humility and obedience. 3. In affairs of temporal government, whether domestic or civil, judge or ruler, it is understood that he who asks for pardon confesses himself guilty, acknowledges his error and promises to reform--to transgress no more. For instance, when the judge extends mercy and pardon to the thief deserving of the gallows, the law is canceled by grace. Suppose now the thief continues in wrong-doing and boasts, "Now that I am under grace I may do as I please, I have no law to fear"; who would tolerate him? For though the law is indeed canceled for him and he receives not merited punishment, though grace delivers him from the rope and the sword, life is not granted him that he may continue to steal, to murder; rather he is supposed to become honest and virtuous. If he does not, the law will again overtake him and punish him as he deserves. In short, where grace fulfills the law, no one is for that reason given license to continue in wrong-doing; on the contrary, he is under increased obligation to avoid occasions of falling under condemnation of the law. 4. Everyone can readily comprehend this principle in temporal things; no one is stupid enough to tolerate the idea of grace being granted to extend opportunity to do wrong. It is only the Gospel doctrine concerning God's grace and the forgiveness of sin that must suffer the slanderous misrepresentation that makes it abolish good works or give occasion for sin. We are told how God, in his unfathomable grace, has canceled the sentence of eternal death and hell fire which, according to the Law and divine judgment, we deserved, and has given us instead the freedom of life eternal; thus our life is purely of grace. Yet certainly we are not pardoned that we may live as before when, under condemnation and wrath, we incurred death. Rather, forgiveness is bestowed that we in appreciation of the sublimity and sanctity of God's unspeakably great blessing which delivers us from death unto life, should henceforth take heed that we lose it not; that we fall not from grace to pass again under judgment and the sentence of eternal death. We are to conduct ourselves as men made alive and saved. 5. So Paul says in verse 16, "Know ye not, that to whom ye present yourselves as servants unto obedience, his servants ye are whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness?" Meaning, Since you now have, under grace, obtained forgiveness of sin and are become righteous, you owe it to God to live in obedience to his will. Necessarily your life must be obedient to some master. Either you obey sin, to continue in the service of which brings death and God's wrath, or you obey God, in grace, unto a new manner of life. So, then, you are no more to obey sin, having been freed from its dominion and power. Paul continues the topic in this Sunday's epistle text, saying: GOOD AND EVIL "AFTER THE MANNER OF MEN." "I speak after the manner of men, because of the infirmity of your flesh: for as ye presented your members as members to uncleanness," etc. 6. Heretofore he had been speaking, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, in language unusual and unintelligible to the world. To the gentiles it was a strange and incomprehensible thing he said about dying with Christ unto sin, being buried and planted into his death, and so on. But now, since his former words are obscure to the natural understanding, he will, he says, speak according to human reason--"after the manner of men." 7. Even reason and the laws of all the gentiles, he goes on to say, teach we are not to do evil; rather to avoid it and do good. All sovereigns establish laws to restrain evil and preserve order. How could we introduce through the Gospel a doctrine countenancing evil? Though the wisdom of the Gospel is a higher gift than human reason, it does not alter or nullify the God-implanted intelligence of the latter. Hence it is a perversion of our doctrine to say it does not teach us to love good works and practice them. "Now, if you cannot understand this truth from my explanation," Paul would say--"that through faith you have, by baptism, died to the sinful life, even been buried--then learn it through your accustomed exercise of reason. You know for yourselves that pardon for former transgression and release from lawful punishment gives no one license to do evil--to commit theft or murder." 8. It is a commonly recognized fact among men that pardon does not mean license. God's Word confirms the same. Yet the disadvantage is that although reason teaches, through the Law, good works and forbids evil, it is unable to comprehend why its teachings are not fulfilled. It perceives from the results which follow dishonoring of the Law, that to honor is best, that it is right and praiseworthy not to steal and commit crime. But it fails to understand why, given the teachings at first, they are not naturally fulfilled. Nor, again, does it know how existing conditions may be removed or bettered. It resorts to this expedient and that to restrain evil, but it cannot attain the art of uprooting and destroying it. With the sword, rack and gallows the judge may restrain public crime, but he cannot punish more than what is known and witnessed to before the court. Whatever is done secretly and never comes before him, he cannot punish or restrain. The Word of God, however, takes hold of the difficulty in a different manner. It teaches how to crush the head of the serpent and to slay the evil. Then the judge and the executioner are no longer necessary. But where we may not control the cause of the wrong, we should, nevertheless, restrain so far as possible its manifest workings. Now, the utmost reason can teach is that we are not to do evil even in thought or desire, and the extent of its punishment relates only to outward works; it cannot punish the thought and inclination to do evil. 9. "But we preach another doctrine," Paul means to say, "a doctrine having power to control the heart and restrain the will. We say you believers in Christ, who are baptized into his death and buried with him, are not only to be reckoned dead, but are truly dead unto sin." A Christian has certain knowledge that through the grace of Christ his sins are forgiven--blotted out and deprived of condemning power. Because he has obtained and believes in such grace, he receives a heart abhorrent of sin. Although feeling within himself, perhaps, the presence of evil thoughts and lusts, yet his faith and the Holy Spirit are with him to remind him of his baptism. "Notwithstanding time and opportunity permit me to do evil," he says to himself, "and though I run no risk of being detected and punished, yet I will not do it. I will obey God and honor Christ my Lord, for I am baptized into Christ and as a Christian am dead unto sin, nor will I come again under its power." So acted godly Joseph, who, when tempted by his master's wife, "left his garment in her hand, and fled, and got him out" (Gen 39, 12); whereas another might have been glad of the invitation. He was but flesh and blood and naturally not insensible to her inducement, to the time and opportunity, the friendship of the woman and the offered enjoyment; but he restrained himself, not yielding even in thought to the temptation. Such obedience to God destroys indeed the source of evil--sin. Reason and human wisdom know nothing of it. It is not to be effected by laws, by punishment, by prison and sword. It can be attained only by faith and a knowledge of Christ's grace, through which we die to sin and the world, and restrain the will from evil even when detection and punishment are impossible. 10. Now, such doctrine is not to be learned from human reason; it is spiritual and taught of the Scriptures. It reveals the source of evil and how to restrain it. Since, then, we teach restraint of evil and show withal a way higher and more effectual than reason can find, the accusation that we prohibit good works and license sin is sufficiently answered and disproved. But Paul would say to the Romans, "If you cannot comprehend our superior doctrine as to the questions raised, then answer them according to the teachings of your own reason, for even that will tell you--and no man will dispute it--we are to do no wrong. The Word of God confirms this doctrine." 11. The apostle says he will speak of the point they raise, after the manner of men. That does not mean according to corrupt flesh and blood, which are not capable of speaking anything good, but according to natural reason as God created it, where some good still remains, for there are to be found many upright individuals who make just laws. I speak thus "because of the infirmity of your flesh," Paul declares. As if he would say, I have not yet said as much as reason, the teachers of the Law and the jurists would demand, but I will go no further because you are yet too weak spiritually, and too unaccustomed to my manner of speech, for all of you to understand it. I must come down to your apprehension and speak according to your capacity. Now, I want to say, ask your own statutes, your own laws, whether they authorize the prohibition of good works; if they license evil, though they may not be able to prevent it. Thus I convince you that such a pretense regarding our doctrine is not to be tolerated. THE TEACHINGS OF REASON. "Even reason teaches that your lives must conform to your business; each is in duty bound to obey him whom he serves. As Christians you are obliged to render another service than that you gave when under the dominion of sin, and obedient to it; when you were unable to escape its power and to do any work good before God. You have now come out of bondage and are relieved from obedience to sin, through grace, having devoted yourselves to the service of God, to obeying him. Therefore, assuredly you must change your manner of life." 12. Truly, Paul here argues reasonably and within the scope of man's natural understanding. We preach the same truths, but, presenting them in the form of Christian doctrine, we necessarily employ different language and a loftier tone, lest it be offensive to the world. We may say that theft, murder, envy, hate and other crimes and vices are transgressions, yet we cannot remedy the evils by the mere prohibitions of the law. The remedy must be effected through God's grace, and is accomplished in the believer, not by our power, but by the Holy Spirit. But when we so explain, the stupid world immediately blurts out, "Oh, if it be true that our works do not remedy evils, let us enjoy ourselves and not bother about good works!" 13. That their implication is false and a wanton perversion of the true doctrine is manifest from the fact that we exalt and endorse the command of God, and also the doctrine of reason, that teach us to do good and avoid evil. Indeed, we assist reason, which is powerless to remedy evil. If reason were itself sufficient, men would not permit themselves to be deceived by their own visionary ideas and false doctrines about worthless and vain works, as are followers of the papacy and of all false worship. No doubt such error has its rise in the principle that we are to do good and avoid evil. The principle fundamentally is true, and accepted by all men; but when it comes to the theories we build upon it, the speculations as to how it is to be put into practice, there is disagreement. Only the Word of God can show how to accomplish it. Reason is easily blinded on this point and deceived by false appearances, being led by anything merely called good. Even when it has performed all it believes to be right, it is still uncertain of acceptance. Indeed, it perceives no fruits, no benefit, to result from its teaching; for at best its achievements extend no farther than outward works--the object being to make the doer appear righteous and respectable before men--while inward sinfulness is unrestrained and the soul remains captive to its former life, obedient to the lusts of sin. And the motive of such a one is not sincere; he would conduct himself quite otherwise were he not restrained by fear of shame and punishment. GOSPEL HIGHER THAN REASON. 14. We present a higher doctrine--the Gospel. The Gospel teaches first how sin in ourselves is, through Christ, slain and buried. Thus we obtain a good conscience, a conscience hating and opposing sin, and become obedient to another power. Being delivered from sin we would serve God and exert ourselves to do his pleasure, even though no fear, punishment, judge or executioner existed. With this point accepted--with the settlement of this minor subject of controversy as to how we are delivered from sin and attain to truly good works, we unite once more on the fundamental principle that good is to be done and evil avoided. Therefore, we immediately conclude: Since we are free from sin and converted to God, we must in obedience to him do good and live no more in sin. 15. Thus does Paul make use of the Law, and of human reason so far as it is able to interpret the Law, to resist them who speak falsely and pervert the right doctrine. Evidently, then, the doctrine of the Gospel does not oppose the doctrine of good works, but transcends it. For it reveals the source and inspiration of good works--not human reason, not human ability, but the grace and power of the Holy Spirit. Now Paul deduces the point: "For as ye presented [yielded] your members as servants to uncleanness and to iniquity unto iniquity, even so now present [yield] your members as servants to righteousness unto sanctification [holiness]." BODY NOT TO SERVE SIN. 16. Even reason teaches that, being no more subject to sin and unrighteousness, you are no longer to serve them with your body and members--your whole physical life. And further, having yielded yourselves to obey God and righteousness, you are in duty bound to serve them with body and life. To put it concisely and clearly, Let him who formerly was evil and lived contrary to his own conscience and to God's will, now become godly and serve the Lord with a good conscience. Or, as Paul says, "Let him that stole steal no more," Eph 4, 28. 17. Formerly, he tells them, their members--eyes, ears, mouth, hands, feet--even the whole body, served uncleanness. For "vice" he uses this term "uncleanness," readily intelligible to reason and inclusive of all forms of sin. "You permitted your members to serve unrighteousness," he would say, "and devoted them to every sort of unholy life, every wicked work, committing one iniquity after another and exercising all manner of villainy that can be named. Now reverse the order. Reasoning according to your own logic: while before you willingly witnessed, heard and uttered things shameful and unchaste, and sought lewdness, lending your bodies to it, let impurity now be distressing to your sight and hearing; let the body flee from it; be pure in words and works. All the members of the body, all its functions, are to be devoted to righteousness." Thus your members, your whole bodies, are to become holy--to be God's own--and given over solely to his service. The longer and the more ardently they serve, the more cheerfully will they honor and obey God, being devoted to all that is divine, praiseworthy, honorable and virtuous. The instructions God has written upon your own heart would teach you this principle, even were there no Word of God. It is useless for you to protest: "Yes, but you have taught that good works do not save," for that doctrine is not inconsistent, but beyond your understanding. Indeed, it is the true light whereby you may fulfill the teachings of reason. "For when ye were servants of sin, ye were free in regard of [free from] righteousness." 18. All these expressions Paul uses "after the manner of men," adapting them from the laws and customs of the times concerning slavery, service and freedom. Then servants were bondmen, purchased by their masters, with whom they must abide until set at liberty by those owners, or otherwise freed. His allusion to a former service of unrighteousness and a present service of righteousness implies two conditions of servitude and consequently two conditions of freedom. He who serves sin, the apostle teaches, is free from righteousness; that is, he is captive under sin, unable to attain to righteousness and to do righteous works. Even reason can comprehend the principle that he is free who does not serve--who is not servant. Again, servants of righteousness means service and obedience to righteousness, and freedom from sin. FRUITS OF TWO KINDS OF SERVICE. Paul now puts the matter a little differently, contrasting the experience of the Romans in the two forms of service. He leaves it with them to determine which has been productive of benefit and which of injury, and to choose accordingly as to future service and obedience. "What fruit then had ye at that time in the things whereof ye are now ashamed? for the end of those things is death. But now being made free from sin and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto sanctification [holiness], and the end eternal life." 19. Rather recall your manner of life when you were free from righteousness and obeyed only the urgings and enticements of sin. What pleasure or gain had you in it? None, except that for which you are now ashamed. Further, had you remained in it you would at last have found death. Only these two grand results--shame and death. Nothing better have you earned in its service. Munificent reward indeed for him who, choosing freedom from righteousness, lives to his own pleasure. He is deceived into thinking he has chosen a highly desirable life, for it gratifies the fleshly desires, and he thinks to go unpunished. But gratification is succeeded by two severe punishments: First, shame--confession of disgrace before God and the world. Thus Adam and Eve in Paradise, when they chose to violate God's command and, enticed by the devil, followed their desire for a forbidden thing, were made to feel the disgrace of their sin; they were in their hearts ashamed to appear in the presence of God. The other and added punishment is eternal death and the fires of hell, into which also fell our first parents. 20. Is it not better, then, to be free from the service of sin and to serve righteousness? So doing, you would never suffer shame nor injury but would receive a double blessing: First, a clear conscience before God and all creatures, proof in itself that you live a holy life and belong to God; second and chief, the rich and incorruptible reward of eternal life. 21. In all these observations Paul is still speaking after the manner of men; in a way comprehended and accepted by reason, even without knowledge of Christ. It is universally true in the world that evil-doers--thieves, murderers and the like--are punished in addition to the public disgrace they feel. Similarly, they who do good receive, in addition to the honor of men, all manner of happy reward. "For the wages of sin is death; but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." 22. It seems a strange saying, that evil-doers are to receive wages, seemingly implying right and deserving action on their part. Ordinarily the term "wages" signifies a good reward, given to those who acquit themselves righteously and bravely. Paul uses the word to discomfit them who pervert his teaching. For they say, "Ah, Paul preaches of grace alone, yet he promises wages to sin." "Yes," Paul would respond, "boast as you will, you will receive a reward--death and hell-fire. You must confidently expect it if you interpret the Gospel to teach that God shall reward you who serve sin." With the convincing words of the text, Paul would undeceive those who advocate, or suffer themselves to believe, that man can serve God in sin and can receive a happy reward. He chooses words familiar to them. "Yes, if, as you maintain, wages must be the reward of every service, you will of course receive yours--death and hell. These any may have who desire them and regard them precious." 23. Paul says further, "The free gift of God is eternal life." Observe his choice of words. He does not here use the term "wages," because he has previously taught that eternal life is not the reward of our works, but is given of pure grace, through faith and for Christ's sake. So he speaks of it as a "free gift of God, through Christ Jesus our Lord." The soul possessing eternal life is furnished with power to crush the serpent's head, and none can deprive him of his priceless blessing. He has also power to avoid sin and to constantly crucify his flesh. These are things not to be effected by any law, any human ability; faith is requisite. Through faith we are incorporated into Christ and planted with him in the death of sin, unto eternal life and truly good works. _Eighth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Romans 8, 12-17. 12 So then, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh: 13 for if ye live after the flesh, ye must die; but if by the Spirit ye put to death the deeds of the body, ye shall live. 14 For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God. 15 For ye received not the spirit of bondage again unto fear; but ye received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. 16 The Spirit himself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are children of God: 17 and if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified with him. LIVING IN THE SPIRIT AS GOD'S CHILDREN. 1. This text, like the preceding one, is an exhortation to Christian life and works. The language employed, however, is of different construction. The hateful machinations of the devil, by which he produces so much disaster in the world, make it necessary to urge this exhortation in many different forms upon those who have become Christians. For when God out of grace, without any merit on our part, bestows upon us the forgiveness of sins which we ourselves are unable to buy or acquire, the devil instigates men at once to conclude and exclaim: Oh, in that case we need no longer do good! Whenever, therefore, the apostle speaks of the doctrine of faith, he is obliged continually to maintain that grace implies nothing of that kind. For our sins are not forgiven with the design that we should continue to commit sin, but that we should cease from it. Otherwise it would more justly be called, not forgiveness of sin but permission to sin. 2. It is a shameful perversion of the salutary doctrine of the Gospel and great and damnable ingratitude for the unfathomable grace and salvation received, to be unwilling to do good. For we ought in fact to be impelled by this very grace to do, with all diligence and to the utmost of our knowledge and ability, everything that is good and well-pleasing to God, to the praise and glory of his name. 3. Of this Paul reminds and admonishes us here, in plain and simple but earnest and important words, in which he points out to us how much we owe to God for that which we have received from him, and what injury we shall suffer if we do not value it as we should, and act accordingly. He says: "We are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh." 4. Because we have been redeemed from the condemnation we deserved by our sins, and now have eternal life through the Spirit of Christ dwelling in us (he speaks of this in the preceding verses), therefore we are debtors to live after the Spirit and obey God. This Paul declares also in the text for last Sunday: "Now being made free from sin and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto sanctification." Rom 6, 22. Therefore, he says, ye are debtors; your new calling, station, and nature require of you that, since ye have become Christians and have the Holy Spirit, ye should live as the Holy Spirit directs and teaches. It is not left to your own caprice to do or to leave undone. If ye desire to glory in the possession of grace and the Holy Spirit, ye must confess yourselves debtors to live, not after the flesh, the only desire of which is to continue in sin, but after the Spirit; the Spirit shows you that, having been baptized and redeemed from sin, ye must turn from sin to the new life of righteousness and not from that new life to sin. "For if ye live after the flesh, ye must die." 5. Here judgment is plainly and tersely pronounced on the pretensions of those foolish people who seek to make the freedom of grace a pretext for giving license to the flesh. The apostle speaks these words that he may deter them from presumption, lest in place of the life and grace in which they pride themselves, they bring upon themselves again eternal wrath and death. It would be utterly inconsistent in you who are now saved and freed from eternal death to desire henceforth to live after the flesh. For if ye do that, ye need not imagine that ye shall retain eternal life; ye will be subject to death and condemned to hell. For ye know that it was solely because of your sins that ye lay under the wrath of God and had incurred death, and that it was because ye lived after the flesh that ye deserved condemnation. Most assuredly Christ has not died for those who are determined to remain in their sins; he has died that he might rescue from their sins those who would gladly be released but cannot liberate themselves. 6. Therefore, let him that is a Christian take care not to be guilty of such nonsense as to say: I am free from the Law, therefore I may do as I please. Rather let him say and do the contrary. Let him, because he is a Christian, fear and shun sin, lest he fall from his freedom into his former state of bondage to sin under the Law and God's wrath; or lest the life, begun in God, lapse again into death. For here stands the express declaration, "If ye live after the flesh, ye must die;" as if the apostle meant: It will not avail you that ye have heard the Gospel, that ye boast of Christ, that ye receive the sacraments, so long as ye do not, through the faith and Holy Spirit received, subdue your sinful lusts, your ungodliness and impiety, your avarice, malice, pride, hatred, envy and the like. 7. For the meaning of "living after the flesh" has been repeatedly stated and is readily understood. It includes not only the gross, sensual lust of fornication or other uncleanness, but everything man has inherited by his natural birth; not only the physical body, but also the soul and all the faculties of our nature, both mental and corporal--our reason, will and senses--which are by nature without the Spirit and are not regulated by God's Word. It includes particularly those things which the reason is not inclined to regard as sin; for instance, living in unbelief, idolatry, contempt of God's Word, presumption and dependence on our own wisdom and strength, our own honor, and the like. Everything of this nature must be shunned by Christians (who have the Holy Spirit and are hence able to judge what is carnal) as a fatal poison which produces death and damnation. PUTTING TO DEATH SIN. "But if by the Spirit ye put to death the deeds of the body, ye shall live." 8. Here the apostle confesses that even in the Christian there is a remnant of the flesh, that must be put to death--all manner of temptation and lusts in opposition to God's commandments. These are active in the flesh and prompt to sin. They are here called the "deeds of the body." Of this nature are thoughts of unbelief and distrust, carnal security and presumption instead of the fear of God, coldness and indolence with respect to God's Word and prayer, impatience and murmurings under suffering, anger and vindictiveness or envy and hatred against our neighbor, avarice, unchastity and the like. Such inclinations as these dwell in flesh and blood and cease not to move and tempt man. Yea, because of human infirmity they at times overtake him when he is not careful enough about transgression. They will certainly overpower him unless he resolutely opposes them and, as here stated, "puts to death the deeds of the body." To do this means a severe struggle, a battle, which never abates nor ceases so long as we live. The Christian dare never become slothful or negligent in this matter. He must arouse himself through the Spirit so as not to give place to the flesh. He must constantly put to death the flesh lest he himself be put to death by it. The apostle declares, "If ye live after the flesh, ye must die," and again comforts us, "If by the Spirit ye put to death [mortify] the deeds of the body, ye shall live." For the Christian receives the gift of the Holy Spirit that he may become willing and able to mortify these sinful lusts. 9. This mortifying of sin through the Spirit is accomplished on this wise: Man recognizes his sin and infirmity, at once repents, remembers God's Word, and, through faith in the forgiveness of sins, strengthens himself against sin, and so resists it that he does not consent to it nor permit it to come to deeds. 10. This constitutes the difference between those who are Christians and sanctified and those who are without faith and the Holy Spirit or who grieve and lose the Spirit. For although believers, as well as unbelievers, are not wholly free from the sinful lusts of the flesh, they yet remain in repentance and the fear of God; they hold fast to the belief that their sins are forgiven, for Christ's sake, because they do not yield to them but resist them. Therefore they continue under forgiveness, and their remaining infirmity is not fatal nor damning to them as it is to those who, without repentance and faith, go on in carnal security and purposely follow their evil lusts against their own conscience; who thus cast away from themselves both faith and the Holy Spirit. 11. So Paul admonishes the Christians to remember what they have received, and whereunto they are called. Having received the forgiveness of sins and the Holy Spirit, they are to be careful not to lose these again; they must use them in contending against the sinful lusts of the flesh. They are to comfort themselves with the fact that they have the Holy Spirit, that is, have help and strength by means of which they can resist and mortify sin. These things are impossible to those who have not faith. Therefore Paul declares further: "For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, these are the sons of God." 12. Like ourselves, Paul had to deal with two classes of people, the true and the false Christians. There is not so much danger from the adversaries of the doctrine; for instance, from popery: their opposition is so open that we can readily beware of them. But since the devil sows even among us his seed--they are called Christians and boast of the Gospel--it behooves us to take heed, not to the mouth, but to the works, of those who claim to be Christians. Not what they say, but what they do, is the question. It is easy enough to boast of God and of Christ and of the Spirit. But whether such boasting has any foundation or not, depends on whether or not the Spirit so works and rules in one as to subdue and mortify sin. For where the Spirit is, there assuredly the Spirit is not idle nor powerless. He proves his presence by ruling and directing man and prevailing on man to obey and follow his promptings. Such a man has the comfort that he is a child of God, and that God so reigns and works in him that he is not subject to death; he has life. MEANING OF "LED BY THE SPIRIT OF GOD." 13. To be "led by the Spirit of God" means, then, to be given a heart which gladly hears God's Word and believes that in Christ it has grace and the forgiveness of sins; a heart which confesses and proves its faith before the world; a heart which seeks, above all things, the glory of God, and endeavors to live without giving offense, to serve others and to be obedient, patient, pure and chaste, mild and gentle; a heart which, though at times overtaken in a fault and it stumble, soon rises again by repentance, and ceases to sin. All these things the Holy Spirit teaches one if he hears and receives the Word, and does not wilfully resist the Spirit. 14. On the other hand, the devil, who also is a spirit, persuades the hearts of the worldlings. But it soon becomes evident that his work is not that of a good spirit or a divine spirit. For he only leads men to do the reverse of that which the Spirit of God leads them to do; then they find no pleasure in hearing and obeying God's Word, but despise God, and become proud and haughty, avaricious, unmerciful. 15. Let every one therefore take heed that he do not deceive himself. For there are many who claim to be Christians and yet are not. We perceive this from the fact that not all are led by the Spirit of God. Some spirit there must be by which men are led. If it is not the Spirit of God leading them to oppose the flesh, then it must be the other and evil spirit leading them to give way to the flesh and its lusts and to oppose the Spirit of God. They must, therefore, either be God's own, his dear children, his sons and his daughters, called to eternal life and glory; or they must be rejected and abandoned, children of the devil, and with him heirs of eternal fire. 16. Paul takes occasion to speak more at length on the words "sons of God," and proceeds in beautiful and comforting words to describe the nature and glory of this sonship. He only begins the subject, however, in today's text. He says: "For ye received not the spirit of bondage again unto fear; but ye received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father." 17. This is a noble and comforting text, worthy of being written in letters of gold. Because ye now through faith, he means to say, have the Holy Spirit and are led by him, ye are no longer in bondage as ye were when under the Law; ye need no longer be afraid of its terrors and its demands, as if God would condemn and reject you on account of your unworthiness and the remaining infirmity of your flesh. On the contrary, ye have the consolation that, through faith, ye have the assurance of God's grace, and may consider God your Father and call upon him as his children. TWO KINDS OF PREACHING AND OF WORKS. 18. Thus he contrasts the two kinds of works which spring from the two kinds of preaching and doctrine--of the Law and of the Gospel--and which constitute the difference between the Christians and those still without faith and the knowledge of Christ. They who have nothing and know nothing but the Law, can never attain to true, heartfelt trust and confidence in God, though they do ever so much and exercise themselves ever so earnestly in the Law. For when the Law shines upon them in real clearness and they see what it demands of them and how far they come short of its fulfilment, when it thus discloses to them God's wrath, it produces in them only a terror, a fear and dread, of God under which they must at last perish if they be not rescued by the Gospel. This is what Paul here terms "the spirit of bondage," one that produces only fear and dread of God. But, on the other hand, if the heart grasps the preaching of the Gospel, which declares that, without any merit or worthiness on our part, God forgives us our sins, for Christ's sake, if we believe in him--then it finds in God's grace comfort against the terrors of the Law; then the Holy Spirit enables it to abide in that confidence, to hold fast to that comfort, and to call upon God sincerely in that faith, even though it feels and confesses to be still weak and sinful. This is what is meant by receiving "the spirit of adoption." 19. Paul speaks of the "spirit of bondage" and the "spirit of adoption" according to the customs of his times. In those days men-servants and maid-servants were the property of the master of the house in the same sense that a cow was his property. He bought them with his money; he did with them as he pleased, just as with his cattle. They were afraid of their master and had to expect stripes, imprisonment and punishment even unto death. They could not say, So much of my master's property belongs to me, and he must give it to me. But they had always to reflect: Here I serve for my bread only; I have nothing to expect but stripes, and must be content to have my master cast me out or sell me to someone else whenever he chooses. They could never have a well-grounded hope of release from such fear and bondage and coercion. 20. Such a slavish spirit, such a captive, fearful and uncertain spirit, ye do not have, says the apostle. Ye are not compelled to live continually in fear of wrath and condemnation as are the followers of Moses and all who are under the Law. On the contrary, ye have a delightful, free spirit, one confident and contented, such as a child entertains toward its father, and ye need not fear that God is angry with you or will cast you off and condemn you. For ye have the Spirit of his Son (as he says above and in Galatians 4, 6) in your heart and know that ye shall remain in his house and receive the inheritance, and that ye may comfort yourselves with it and boast of it as being your own. CHILDREN OF GOD. 21. On this "spirit of adoption," that is on what the apostle means when he says "whereby we cry, Abba, Father," I have spoken at some length in my sermon on the text Galatians 4, 6, where the same words are used. In short, Paul describes here the power of the kingdom of Christ, the real work and the true exalted worship the Holy Spirit effects in believers: the comfort by which the heart is freed from the terror and fear of sin and given peace, and the heartfelt supplication which in faith expects of God an answer and his help. These blessings cannot be secured through the Law or our own holiness. By such means man could never obtain the comfort of God's grace and love to him; he would always remain in fear and dread of wrath and condemnation, and, because of such doubt, would flee from God, not daring to call upon him. But where there is faith in Christ, there the Holy Spirit brings the comfort spoken of, and a childlike trust which does not doubt that God is gracious and will answer prayer, because he has promised all these--grace and help, comfort, and answer to prayer--not for the sake of our worthiness, but for the sake of the name and merit of Christ, his Son. 22. Of these two works of the Holy Spirit, comfort and supplication, the prophet Zechariah (ch. 12, 10) said that God would establish a new dispensation in the kingdom of Christ when he should pour out "the spirit of grace and of supplication." The spirit he speaks of is the same who assures us that we are God's children, and desires us to cry to him with heartfelt supplications. 23. The Hebrew word "Abba"--which, as the apostle himself interprets it, means "Father"--is the word which the tiny heir lisps in childlike confidence to its father, calling him "Ab, Ab"; for it is the easiest word the child can learn to speak: or, as the old German language has it, almost easier still, "Etha, Etha." Such simple, childlike words faith uses toward God through the Holy Spirit, but they proceed out of the depth of the heart and, as afterwards stated, "with groanings which cannot be uttered." Rom 8, 26. Especially is this the case when the doubtings of the flesh and the terrors and torments of the devil bring conflict and distress. Man must defend himself against these and cries out: O dear Father! Thou art, indeed, my Father, for thou hast given thine only and beloved Son for me. Thou wilt not be angry with me or disown me. Or: Thou seest my distress and my weakness; do thou help and save me. "The Spirit himself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are children of God." 24. That we are children of God and may confidently regard ourselves as such, we do not learn from ourselves nor from the Law. We learn it from the witness of the Spirit, who, in spite of the Law and of our unworthiness, testifies to it in our weakness and assures us of it. This witness is the experience within ourselves of the power of the Holy Spirit working through the Word, and the knowledge that our experience accords with the Word and the preaching of the Gospel. For thou art surely aware whether or no, when thou art in fear and distress, thou dost obtain comfort from the Gospel, and art able to overcome thy doubts and terror; to so overcome that thy heart is assured of God's graciousness, and thou no longer fleest from him, but canst cheerfully call upon him in faith, expecting help. Where such a faith exists, consciousness of help must follow. So Saint Paul says, Rom 5, 4-5: "Stedfastness worketh approvedness; and approvedness, hope: and hope putteth not to shame." 25. This is the true inward witness by which thou mayest perceive that the Holy Spirit is at work in thee. In addition to this, thou hast also external witnesses and signs: for instance, it is a witness of the Holy Spirit in thee that he gives thee special gifts, acute spiritual understanding, grace and success in thy calling; that thou hast pleasure and delight in God's Word, confessing it before the world at the peril of life and limb; that thou hatest and resistest ungodliness and sin. Those who have not the Holy Spirit are neither willing nor able to do these things. It is true, that even in the Christian, these things are accomplished in great weakness; but the Holy Spirit governs them in their weakness, and strengthens in them this witness, as Paul says again: "The Spirit also helpeth our infirmity." Rom 8, 26. HEIRS OF GOD. "And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified with him." 26. Here, then, thou hast the high boast, the honor and the glory of the Christian. Leave to the world its splendor, its pride and its honors, which mean nothing else--when it comes to the point--than that they are the children of the devil. But do thou consider the marvel of this, that a poor, miserable sinner should obtain such honor with God as to be called, not a slave nor a servant of God, but a son and an heir of God! Any man, yea the whole world, might well consider it privilege enough to be called one of God's lowest creatures, only so that they might have the honor of being God's property. For who would not wish to belong to such a Lord and Creator? But the apostle declares here that we who believe in Christ shall be not his servants, but his own sons and daughters, his heirs. Who can sufficiently magnify or utter God's grace? It is beyond the power of our expression or comprehension. 27. Yet here our great human weakness discovers itself. If we fully and confidently believed this, then of what should we be afraid or who could do us harm? He who from the heart can say to God, Thou art my Father and I am thy child--he who can say this can surely bid defiance to all the devils in hell, and joyfully despise the threatenings and ragings of the whole world. For he possesses, in his Father, a Lord before whom all creatures must tremble and without whose will they can do nothing; and he possesses a heritage which no creature can harm, a dominion which none can reduce. 28. But the apostle adds here the words, "if so be that we suffer with him," to teach us that while we are on earth we must so live as to approve ourselves good, obedient children, who do not obey the flesh, but who, for the sake of this dominion, endure whatever befalls them or causes pain to the flesh. If we do this, then we may well comfort ourselves and with reason rejoice and glory in the fact the apostle declares, that "as many as are led by the Spirit of God," and do not obey the promptings of the flesh, "these are the sons of God." 29. O how noble it is in a man not to obey his lusts, but to resist them with a strong faith, even though he suffer for it! To be the child of a mighty and renowned king or emperor means to possess nobility, honor and glory on earth. How much more glorious it would be, could a man truthfully boast that he is the son of one of the highest of the angels! Yet what would be all that compared with one who is named and chosen by God himself, and called his son, the heir of exalted divine majesty? Such sonship and heritage must assuredly imply great and unspeakable glory and riches, and power and honor, above all else that is in heaven or in earth. This very honor, even though we had nothing but the name and fame of it, ought to move us to become the enemies of this sinful life on earth and to strive against it with all our powers, notwithstanding we should have to surrender all for its sake and suffer all things possible for a human being to suffer. But the human heart cannot grasp the greatness of the honor and glory to which we shall be exalted with Christ. It is altogether above our comprehension or imagination. This Paul declares in what follows, in verse 18, where he says: "I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed to us-ward," as we have heard in the text for the fifth Sunday after Trinity. _Ninth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 1 Corinthians 10, 6-13. 6 Now these things were our examples, to the intent we should not lust after evil things, as they also lusted. 7 Neither be ye idolaters, as were some of them; as it is written, The people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play. 8 Neither let us commit fornication, as some of them committed, and fell in one day three and twenty thousand. 9 Neither let us make trial of the Lord, as some of them made trial, and perished by the serpents. 10 Neither murmur ye, as some of them murmured, and perished by the destroyer. 11 Now these things happened unto them by way of example; and they were written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the ages are come. 12 Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. 13 There hath no temptation taken you but such as man can bear: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation make also the way of escape, that ye may be able to endure it. CARNAL SECURITY AND ITS VICES. 1. Here is a very earnest admonition, a message as severe as Paul ever indited, although he is writing to baptized Christians, who always compose the true Church of Christ. He confronts them with several awful examples selected from the very Church, from Israel the chosen people of God. 2. Paul's occasion and meaning in writing this epistle was the security of the Corinthians. Conscious of their privileged enjoyment of Christ, of baptism and the Sacrament, they thought they lacked nothing and fell to creating sects and schisms among themselves. Forgetting charity, they despised one another. So far from reforming in life, and retrieving their works of iniquity, they became more and more secure, and followed their own inclinations, even allowing a man to have his father's wife. At the same time they desired to be regarded Christians, and boastfully prided themselves on having received the Gospel from the great apostles. So Paul was impelled to write them a stern letter, dealing them severity such as he nowhere else employs. In fact, it seems almost as if it were going too far to so address Christians; the rebuke might easily have struck weak and tender consciences with intolerable harshness. But, as in the second epistle, seeing how his sternness has startled the Corinthians, he modifies it to some extent, and deals tenderly with the repentant. 3. However, in the striking Scripture examples of the text here, he sufficiently shows the need for such admonition to them who would, after having received grace, become carnally secure and abandon the repentant life. 4. The text should properly include the beginning of this tenth chapter, which is read in the passage for Third Sunday before Lent. He begins with: "I would not, brethren, have you ignorant, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea; and were all baptized unto Moses in the cloud and in the sea; and did all eat the same spiritual food; and did all drink the same spiritual drink.... Howbeit with most of them God was not well pleased: for they were overthrown in the wilderness." Then follows our text here--"Now these things were our examples." 5. As we said, the admonition is to those already Christians. Paul would have them know that although they are baptized unto Christ, and have received and still enjoy his blessing through grace alone, without their own merit, yet they are under obligation ever to obey him; they are not to be proud and boastful, nor to misuse his grace. Christ desires obedience on our part, though obedience does not justify us in his sight nor merit his grace. For instance, a bride's fidelity to her husband cannot be the merit that purchased his favor when he chose her. She is the bridegroom's own because it pleased him to make her so, even had she been a harlot. But now that he has honored her, he would have her maintain that honor henceforth by her purity; if she fails therein, the bridegroom has the right and power to put her away. Again, a poor, wretched orphan, a bastard, a foundling, may be adopted as a son by some godly man and made his heir, though not meriting the honor. Now, if in return for such kindness the child becomes disobedient and refractory, he justly may be cut off from the inheritance. Not by the merit of their devotion, as Moses often hinted, did the Jews become the people of God; they were ever stiff-necked and continually rebelled against him. God, having chosen them and led them out of Egypt, urgently commanded them to serve him and obey his Word. But when they failed to fulfil the commandments, they had to feel the terrific force of his punishment. ISRAEL'S CARNAL SECURITY A WARNING TO US. 6. Their example Paul here, with great earnestness, holds up to the world as a warning against carnally and confidently presuming upon the grace and goodness of God because we have already received of them. In unmistakable colors the apostle portrays the teaching of this striking and important, this weighty and specific, example. Rightly viewed, there certainly is no greater, more wonderful, story from the creation of the world down to the present time, nothing more marvelous to be found in any book--except that supremely wonderful work, the death and resurrection of the Son of God--than this history of a people led by God's power out of Egypt, through the wilderness and into the promised land. It is filled with the remarkably wonderful works of God, with striking examples of his anger and of his great kindness. 7. Referring to these examples, Paul goes on to imply: "As Christians and baptized, you should be familiar with them. If you are not, I would not fail to bring them before you for reflection on what befell other people of God, according to the Scripture record. They were our fathers, a noble, intelligent and great company and congregation of men, numbering over six hundred thousands, not counting wives and children." They, Paul tells us, were termed, and rightly, the holy people of God. God designed their welfare; and through Moses, their bishop and pope, they had the Word of God, the promise and the Sacrament. Under Moses they were all baptized, when he led them through the sea, and by the cloud, under the shadow of which, sheltered from the heat, they daily pursued their journey. At night a beautiful pillar of fire, an intense lightning-like brilliance, protected them. In addition, their bread came daily from heaven and they drank water from the rock. These providences were their Sacrament, and their sign that God was with them to protect. They believed on the promised Christ, the Son of God, their guide in the wilderness. Thus they were a noble, highly-favored and holy people. 8. But with the great mass of the people, how long did faith last? No longer than until they came into the wilderness. There they began to despise God's Word, to murmur against Moses and against God and to fall into idolatry. Whereupon God vindicated himself among them; of all that great nation which came out from Egypt, of all the illustrious ones who assisted Moses in leading and governing, only two individuals passed from the wilderness into Canaan. Plainly, then, God had no pleasure in the great mass of that host. It did not avail them to be called the people of God, a holy people, a company to whom God had shown marvelous kindness and great wonders; because they refused to believe and obey the Word of God. The prospect was good when they were so wonderfully and gloriously delivered from their enemies, and had at Mount Sinai received from God the Law and a noble order of worship--their prospect was good for them to enter into the land; they were already at the gate. But even in that auspicious moment they provoked God until he turned them back to wander forty years in the wilderness, where they perished. 9. Their punishment was wholly the result of their odious arrogance in boasting in the face of God's Word, of their privileges as the people of God, upon whom he daily bestowed great kindness. "Do you not recognize," they bragged, "the holiness of this entire congregation, among whom God dwells, daily performing his marvelous wonders?" In their pride and defiance they became stiff-necked and obstinate enough to continually complain against Moses and to oppose him whatever course he took with them. Thus they day by day awakened God's wrath against themselves, forcing him to visit them with many terrible plagues. These failing to humble, he was compelled to remove the entire nation. Many times God would have destroyed them all at once had not Moses prostrated himself before him in their behalf and with earnest entreaty and strong supplication turned aside his wrath. Because of their perversity, Moses was a most wretched and harassed man. "The man Moses was very meek, above all the men that were upon the face of the earth." Num 12, 3. For he was daily vexed with the defiance, disobedience and opposition of this great company of people; and further, he had to witness and endure for the entire forty years the numerous and awful plagues sent upon his people, his heart being filled with anguish for them. Then, too, it was his continually to withstand God's wrath. 10. Terrible indeed is the thing we learn of this famously great people--God's own nation, unto whom he reveals himself, to whom God and Christ himself are revealed; a nation God governs and leads by his angels; a people he honors by wonders marvelous beyond anything ever heard on earth of any nation. As Moses says in Deuteronomy 4, 7: "What great nation is there, that hath a god so nigh unto them, as Jehovah our God is whensoever we call upon him?" Yet all who came out of Egypt and had witnessed the mighty wonders God wrought among themselves and among their enemies, fell and glaringly sinned; not according to the measure of the mere weakness and imperfection of human nature, but they sinned disobediently and in willful contempt of God. Hardened in unbelief unto insensibility, they brought upon themselves overwhelming punishment. 11. Paul mentions several instances of the sin whereby they merited the wrath of God, to illustrate how they fell from faith and disregarded God's Word. First, he makes the general assertion that with many of them God was not well pleased. He means to include the great mass of the people; particularly the officials and leaders, the eminent of their number, individuals looked up to as the worthiest and holiest of the congregation, and who actually had wrought great things. Many of these fell into hypocrisy through boasting of the divine name, the divine office and spirit; Korah, for instance, with his faction, including two hundred and fifty princes of the congregation. Num 16, 1-2. He and his leaders claimed right to the priesthood and government equal with Moses and Aaron, and so ostentatiously and boastfully that only God could say whether they were right. Necessarily God had to make it manifest that he had no pleasure in them; for they boasted until the earth swallowed them up alive, and many who adhered to and upheld them were consumed by fire. ISRAEL'S VICES IN THE WILDERNESS PUNISHED. 12. Proceeding, Paul recounts the vices which occasioned God's punishment and overthrow of the people in the wilderness. First, he says, they lusted after evil things. In the second year from the departure, when they actually had come into Canaan, they forgot God's kindness and wonderful works in their behalf and, becoming dissatisfied, longed to be back in Egypt to sit by the flesh-pots. They murmured against God and Moses until God was forced summarily to stop them with fire from heaven. Many of the people were consumed and a multitude more were smitten with a great plague while yet they ate of the flesh they craved; therefore the place of the camp was named the "Graves of Lust." Num 11. Such was the reward of their concupiscence, which Paul here aptly explains as "lusting after evil things." 13. Truly it is but lusting after the wrath and punishment of God when, in forgetfulness of and ingratitude for his grace and goodness we seek something new. The world is coming to be filled with the spirit of concupiscence, for the multitude is weary of the Gospel. Particularly are they dissatisfied with it because it profits not the flesh; contributes not to power, wealth and luxury. Men desire again the old and formal things of popery, notwithstanding they suffered therein extreme oppression and were burdened not less than were the people of Israel in Egypt. But they will eventually have to pay a grievous penalty for their concupiscence. 14. In the third place, the apostle mentions the great sin--idolatry. "Neither be ye idolaters," he counsels, "as were some of them." Not simply the lower class of people were guilty in this respect, but the leaders and examples. As they led, the multitude followed. Even Aaron, the brother of Moses, himself high-priest, swayed by the influential ones, yielded and set up the golden calf (Ex 32, 4) while Moses tarried in the mount. We are astounded that those eminently worthy individuals, having heard God's Word and seen his wonders liberally displayed, should so soon fall unrestrainedly into the false worship of idolatry, as if they were heathen and possessed not the Word. Much less need we wonder that the blind world always is entangled with idol-worship. 15. Where the Word of God is lacking or disregarded, human wisdom makes for itself a worship. It will find its pleasure in the thing of its own construction and regard it something to be prized, though it may be imperatively forbidden in God's Word, perhaps even an abomination before him. Human reason thinks it may handle divine matters according to its own judgment; that God must be pleased with what suits its pleasure. Accordingly, to sanction idolatry, it appropriates the name of the Word of God. The Word must be forced into harmony with the false worship to give the latter an admirable appearance, notwithstanding the worship is essentially the reverse of what it is made to appear. Similarly popery set off its abominations of the mass, of monkery and the worship of saints; and the world in turn seeks to set off that idolatry to make it stand before God's Word. Such is the conduct of the eminent Aaron when he makes for the people the golden calf (Ex 32, 5-6), an image or sign of their offerings and worship. He builds an altar to it and causes to be proclaimed a feast to the Lord who has led them out of the land of Egypt. They must imitate the worship of the true God, a worship of sincere devotion and honest intention, with their offering, the calf, in the attempt to introduce a refined and ennobling worship. 16. Thereupon follows what is recorded in Exodus 32, 6, to which Paul here refers: "And they rose up early on the morrow, and offered burnt offerings, and brought peace offerings; and the people sat down to eat and to drink, and rose up to play." That is, they rejoiced and were well pleased with themselves, content to have performed such worship, and deemed they had done well. Next they proceed to their own pleasure, as if having provided against God's anger. Thenceforth they would live according to their inclinations, wholly unrestrained and unreproved by the Word of God; for, as they said, Aaron made the people free. 17. Such is the usual course of idolatry. Refusing to be considered a sin, it presumes to merit grace and boasts of the liberty of the people of God. It continues unrepentant and self-assured, even in the practice of open vice, imagining every offense to be forgiven before God for the sake of its holy worship. Thus have the priestly rabble of popery been doing hitherto; and they still adorn--yes, strengthen and defend--their shameful adultery, unchastity and all vices, with the name of the Church, the holy worship, the mass, and so on. ISRAEL'S TRIAL OF GOD. 18. In the fourth admonition, the apostle says, "Neither let us make trial of the Lord, as some of them made trial, and perished by the serpents." This, too, is a heinous sin, as is proven by the terrible punishment. In Numbers 21 we read that after the people had journeyed for forty years in the wilderness and God had brought them through all their difficulties and given them victory over their enemies, as they drew near to the promised land, they became dissatisfied and impatient. They were setting out to go around the land of the Edomites, who refused them a passage through their country, when they began to murmur against God and Moses for leading them out of Egypt. Thereupon God sent among them fiery serpents and they were bitten, a multitude of the people perishing. Complaining against God is here called tempting him. Men set themselves against the Word of God and blaspheme as if God and his Word were utterly insignificant, because his disposing is not as they desire. Properly speaking, it is tempting God when we not only disbelieve him but oppose him, refusing to accept what he says as true and desiring that our own wisdom rule. That is boasting ourselves against him. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 10, 22: "Do we provoke the Lord to jealousy? are we stronger than he?" 19. Such was the conduct of the Jews. Notwithstanding God's promise to be their God, to remain with them and to preserve them in trouble, if only they would believe in him and trust him; and notwithstanding he proved his care by daily providences expressed as special blessings and strange wonders, yet all these things availed not to save them from murmuring. When the ordering of events accorded not exactly with their wisdom or desire, or when, perhaps, disaster or failure threatened, immediately they began to make outcry against Moses; in other words, against his God-given office and message. "Why have you led us out of Egypt?" they would complain, meaning: "If you bore, as you say you do, the word and command of God and if he truly designed to work such marvels with us, he would not permit us to suffer want like this." In fact, they could not believe God's dealings with them were in accord with his promise and design. They insisted that he should, through Moses, perform what they dictated; otherwise he should not be their God. At the outset, when they entered the wilderness, after having come out of Egypt and having experienced God's wonderful preservation of them in the Red Sea and his deliverance from their enemy, and having received from him bread and flesh, they immediately began to murmur against Moses and Aaron and to chide them for leading into the wilderness where no water was. "Is Jehovah among us, or not?" they burst forth. Ex 17, 7. This was, indeed, as our text says, tempting God; for abundantly as his word and his wonders had been revealed to them, they refused to believe unless he should fulfil their desires. 20. And they persisted in so opposing and tempting God as long as they were in the wilderness, unto the fortieth year; to which God testifies when he says to Moses: "Because all those men that have seen my glory, and my signs, which I wrought in Egypt and in the wilderness, yet have tempted me these ten times, and have not hearkened to my voice," etc., Num 14, 22. It was in the second year after the departure from Egypt that the Jews murmured about the water, and now in the fortieth year, when they should have been humbled after so long experience, and when they whose lives covered that period ought to have been conscious of the wonderful deliverances they had experienced in not being destroyed with others of their number, but being brought safely to the promised land--now they begin anew to complain with great impatience and bitterness: "Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?" Or, in other words: "You often remind us you represent God's command, and you have promised us great things. This is a fine way you take to lead us into the land when here we have yet farther to journey and are all going to die in the wilderness!" 21. Notice, Paul in speaking of how they tempted God says, "They tempted Christ," pointing to the fact that the eternal Son of God was from the beginning with his Church and with the people who received from the ancient fathers the promise of his coming in the form of man. They believed as we do that Christ--to use Paul's words in the beginning--was the rock that followed them. Therefore the apostle gives us to understand, the point of the Israelites' insult was directed against faith in Christ, against the promise concerning him. Moses was compelled to hear them protest after this manner: "Yes, you boast about a Messiah who is one with God, and who is with us to lead us; one revealed to the fathers and promised to be born unto us of our flesh and blood, to redeem us and bring relief to all men; a Messiah who for that reason adopts us for his own people, to bring us into the land; but where is he? This is a fine way he relieves us! Is our God one to permit us to wander for forty years in the wilderness until we all perish?" 22. That such sin and blasphemy was the real meaning of their murmurings is indicated by the fact that Moses afterward, in the terrible punishment of the fiery serpents by which the people were bitten and died, erected at God's command a brazen serpent and whoever looked upon it lived. It was to them a sign of Christ who was to be offered for the salvation of sinners. It taught the people they had blasphemed against God, incurred his wrath and deserved punishment, and therefore in order to be saved from wrath and condemnation, they had no possible alternative but to believe again in Christ. MURMURING AGAINST GOD OPEN REVOLT. 23. This last point is akin to the one preceding. Paul defines murmuring against God as an open revolt actuated by unbelief in the Word, a manifestation of anger and impatience, an unwillingness to obey when events are not ordered according to the pleasure of flesh and blood, and a readiness instantly to see God as hating and unwilling to help. Just so the Jews persistently behaved, despite Moses' efforts to reconcile. Being also continually punished for their perversity, they ought prudently to have abandoned their murmurings; but they only murmured the more. 24. The apostle's intent in the narration is to warn all who profess to be Christians, or people of God, as we shall hear later. He holds that the example of the Israelites ought deeply to impress us, teaching us to continue in the fear of God and to be conscious of it, and to guard against self-confidence. For God by the punishments mentioned shows forcibly enough to the world that he will not trifle with, nor excuse, our sin--as the world and our own flesh fondly imagine--if we, under cover of his high and sacred name, dare despise and pervert his Word; if we, actuated by presumptuous confidence in our own wisdom, our own holiness and the gifts of God, follow our private opinions, our own judgment and inclinations, and vainly satisfy ourselves with the delusion: "God is not angry with me, one so meritorious, so superior, in his sight." 25. You learn here that God spared none of the great throng from Egypt, among whom were many worthy and eminent individuals, even the progenitors of Christ in the tribe of Judah. He visited terrible punishment upon the distinguished princes and the leaders among the priesthood and other classes, and that in the sight of the entire people among whom he had performed so many marvelous wonders. Having by Moses delivered them from temporal bondage in Egypt, and through his office spiritually baptized and sanctified them; having given Christ, to speak with, lead, defend and help them; having dealt kindly with them as would a father with his children: yet he visits terrible destruction upon these Jews because they have abused his grace and brought forth no fruits of faith, and have become proud, boasting themselves the people of God, children of Abraham and circumcised, sole possessors of the promise of a Messiah, and consequently sure of participating in the kingdom of God and enjoying his grace. 26. Now, as Paul teaches, if terrible judgment and awful punishment came upon these illustrious and good people, let us not be proud and presumptuous. We are far inferior to them and cannot hope, in these last ages of the world, to know gifts and wonders as great and glorious as they knew. Let us see ourselves mirrored in them and profit by their example, being mindful that while we are privileged to glory in Christ, in the forgiveness of sins and the grace of God, we must be faithfully careful not to lose what we have received and fall into the same condemnation and punishment before God which was the fate of this people. For we have not yet completed our pilgrimage; we have not arrived at the place toward which we journey. We are still on the way and must constantly go forward in the undertaking, in spite of dangers and hindrances that may assail. The work of salvation is indeed begun in us, but as yet is incomplete. We have come out of Egypt and have passed through the Red Sea; that is, have been led out of the devil's dominion into the kingdom of God, through Christian baptism. But we are not yet through the wilderness and in the promised land. There is a possibility of our still wandering from the way, into defeat, and missing salvation. 27. Nothing is lacking on God's part; he has given us his Word and the Sacraments, has bestowed the Spirit, given grace and the necessary gifts, and is willing to help us even further. It rests with ourselves not to fall from grace, not to thrust it from us through unbelief, ingratitude, disobedience and contempt of God's Word. For salvation is not to him who only begins well, but, as Christ says (Mt 24, 13), "He that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved." But the apostle continues: "Now these things happened unto them by way of example; and they were written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the ages are come." ISRAEL'S CAREER AN ADMONITION TO INDIVIDUALS. 28. When you read or hear this historical example, the terrible punishment the Jewish people suffered in the wilderness, think not it is an obsolete record and without present significance. The narrative is certainly not written for the dead, but for us who live. It is intended to restrain us, to be a permanent example to the whole Church. For God's dealings with his own flock are always the same, from the beginning of time to the end. Likewise must the people of God, or the Church, be always the same. This history is a portrait of the Church in every age, representing largely its actual life--the vital part; for it shows on what the success of the Church on earth always depends and how it acts. The record teaches that the Church is at all times wonderfully governed and preserved by God, without human agency, in the midst of manifold temptations, trials, suffering and defeat; that it does not exist as an established government regulated according to human wisdom, with harmony of parts and logical action, but is continually agitated, impaired and weakened in itself by much confusion and numerous penalties; that the great and best part, who bear the name of the Church, fall and bring about a state of things so deplorable God can no longer spare, but is compelled to send punishments in the nature of mutinies and similar disorders, the terrible character of which leaves but a small proportion of the people upright. 29. Now, if such disaster befell the nation selected of God, chosen from the first as his people, among whom he performed works marvelous and manifest beyond anything ever known since, what better thing may we expect for ourselves? Indeed, how much greater the danger threatening us; how much reason we have to take heed that the same fate, or worse, overtake not ourselves! With reference to the things chronicled in our text, Paul tells us: "They were written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the ages are come." That is, we are now in the last and most evil of days, a time bringing many awful dangers and severe punishments. It is foretold in the Scriptures, predicted by Christ and the apostles, that awful and distressing times will come, when there shall be wide wanderings from the true faith and sad desolations of the Church. And, alas, we see the prophecies only too painfully fulfilled in past heresy, and later in Mohammedanism and the papacy. 30. The era constituting the "last time" began with the apostles. The Christians living since Christ's ascension constitute the people of the latter times, the little company left for heaven; and we gentiles, amidst the innumerable multitude of the ungodly generation in the wide world, must experience worse calamities than befell the Jews, who lived under the law of Moses and the Word of God, under an admirable external discipline and a well-regulated government. Yet even in this final age so near the end of time, when we should be occupied with proclaiming the Gospel everywhere, the great multitude are chiefly employed with boasting their Christian name. We see how extravagantly the Pope extols his church, teaching that outside its pale no Christians are to be found on earth, and that the entire world must regard him as the head of the Church. 31. True, his subjects were baptized unto Christ, called to the kingdom of God and granted the Sacrament and the name of Christ. But how do they conduct themselves? Under that superior name and honor, they suppress Christ's Word and his kingdom. For more than a thousand years now they have desolated the Church, and to this hour most deplorably persecute it. On the other hand, great countries, vast kingdoms, claiming to be Christian but disregarding the true doctrine of faith, are punished by the Turk's desolating hand, and instead of the incense of Christianity, with them is the revolting odor of Mohammed's faith. 32. Great and terrible was the punishment of the Jewish people. Seemingly no disaster could befall man more awful than overtook them in the wilderness. Yet it was physical punishment, and although many, through unbelief and contempt of God, fell and incurred everlasting condemnation, still the Word of God remained with a remnant--Moses and the true Church. But the punishment of this last age is infinitely more awful, for God permits the pure doctrine to be lost, and sends strong delusions, that they who receive not the truth nor love it shall believe falsehood and be eternally lost. 2 Thes 2, 10. Such has been our reward; we have only too terribly suffered punishment. And if we are not more thankful for the grace God extends in his Word--a last gleam of light, on the point of extinction--we shall meet with retribution even more appalling. "Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." 33. Here is summed up the teaching of the above examples. The sermon is directed against the self-confident. Some there were among the Christian Corinthians who boasted they were disciples of the great apostles, and who had even received the Holy Spirit, but who stirred up sects and desired to be commended in all their acts. To these Paul would say: "No, dear brother, be not too secure, not too sure where you stand. When you think you stand most firmly you are perhaps nearest to falling, and you may fall too far to rise again. They of the wilderness were worthy people and began well, doing great deeds, yet they fell deplorably and were destroyed. Therefore, be cautious and suffer not the devil to deceive you. You will need to be vigilant, for you are in the flesh, which always strives against the spirit; and you have the devil for enemy, and dangers and difficulties beset you on all sides. Be careful lest you lose what you have received. You have only made a beginning; the end is yet to be attained." So we must be wary and steadfast, that we may, as Paul has it, work out our own salvation with fear and trembling. Phil 2, 12. "There hath no temptation taken you but such as man can bear [such as is common to man]: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able." 34. Paul's meaning is: I must not terrify you too much. I would in a measure comfort you. So far you have had no temptations greater than flesh and blood offer. They have risen among yourselves--one holding another in contempt, one doing another injustice; allowing adulteries and other evils to creep in, which things are indeed not right nor decent. You must resolve to reform in these things lest worse error befall you. For should Satan get hold of you in earnest with his false doctrine and spiritual delusions, his strong temptations of the soul--contempt of God, for instance--such as assailed Peter and many others of the saints, you could not stand. You are yet weak; you are new and untried Christians. Then thank God who gives you strength to bear your present temptations; who, to retain you, presents what is best for you, admonishing you, through his Word, to be on your guard against falling yet deeper into temptation. _Tenth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 1 Corinthians 12, 1-11. 1 Now, concerning spiritual gifts, brethren, I would not have you ignorant. 2 Ye know that when ye were Gentiles ye were led away unto those dumb idols, howsoever ye might be led. 3 Wherefore I make known unto you, that no man speaking in the Spirit of God saith, Jesus is anathema [accursed], and no man can say, Jesus is Lord, but in the Holy Spirit. 4 Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit. 5 And there are diversities of ministrations, and the same Lord. 6 And there are diversities of workings, but the same God, who worketh all things in all. 7 But to each one is given the manifestation of the Spirit to profit withal. 8 For to one is given through the Spirit the word of wisdom; and to another the word of knowledge, according to the same Spirit; 9 to another faith, in the same Spirit; and to another gifts of healings, in the one Spirit; 10 and to another workings of miracles; and to another prophecy; and to another discernings of spirits; to another divers kinds of tongues; and to another the interpretation of tongues; 11 but all these worketh the one and the same Spirit, dividing to each one severally even as he will. SPIRITUAL COUNSEL FOR CHURCH OFFICERS. 1. This epistle selection treats of spiritual things, things which chiefly pertain to the office of the ministry and concern the Church authorities. Paul instructs how those in office should employ their gifts for the benefit of one another and thus further the unity and advancement of the Churches. Inharmony is a deplorable offense in the case of Christians, putting them in the worst possible light, and making it impossible for them to steer clear of factions. Divisions are an offense to the world's wisest and best, who cry out, "If the Christians' doctrine were true, they would preserve unity among themselves, but as it is they envy and slander and devour one another." For, though the world carries its own great beam in its eye, it cannot refrain from judging us for our mote, and thus exalting itself as if it were pure and beautiful. PERFECT HARMONY NOT TO BE EXPECTED. 2. Well, we cannot altogether prevent inharmony in the Church. Paul says (1 Cor 11, 19), "For there must be also factions among you, that they that are approved may be made manifest among you." Wherever the Word of God has a foothold, there the devil will be. By the agency of his factions he will always build his taverns and kitchens beside God's house. So he did at first, in Paradise. In the family of Adam he entrenched himself, establishing there his church. And such has been his practice ever since, and doubtless will ever be. He who takes offense at differences in the Church, who when he sees any inharmony at once concludes there is no Church there, will in the end miss both the Church and Christ. You will never find any congregation of such purity that all its members are unanimous on every point of belief and teaching and all live in perfect harmony. 3. Paul had experience in this matter in the case of the beautiful and famed Church at Corinth in Achaia, which he himself planted and where he taught two years. Soon after his departure they began to disagree about their preachers and to attach themselves to certain ones--some to Paul, some to Peter, some to Apollos. Though these had all taught correctly, though they had been unanimous in their doctrine, yet men would cleave to a certain one because he was more or differently gifted than the others, could speak better, or was more attractive in personal appearance. And among the ministers of the Church, if one had a special gift or office, he thought he ought to be a little better and a little greater than the others. Necessarily, from such division and inharmony, grew hatred, strife and jealousy, resulting in great injury and disorder to the Church. 4. We must, then, so far as possible, guard against this fatal evil, though we cannot altogether keep it out of the Church. Were we to offer no resistance at all, the devil would seize all authority and bring every element into discord. But when we resist Satan, God will continue to extend his grace and favor, and some fruit and improvement will follow. Even were it not possible for us to accomplish anything, yet as faithful ministers we must not keep silent if we would not be regarded indolent hirelings who flee when the wolf comes. See Jn 10, 12. 5. Such is the tenor of this text from Paul. He begins by preaching on spiritual gifts and admonishing the Corinthians how to conduct themselves in respect to them. In proportion to the greatness and excellence of the gifts are flesh and blood inclined to discord and to coveting personal honor. Let one have a good understanding of the Scriptures and be able to explain them, or let him have the power to work miracles, and he will soon begin to have an extravagantly good opinion of himself, deeming himself worthy the honor of all men, desiring the multitude to follow only him, and positively refusing to regard anyone his equal. He will seek to create something new in doctrine, to change the old order, as if he could introduce something better than others, who must be infinitely below him or at least his inferiors. 6. The same thing has taken place in our day--and will continue to take place--with respect to the Gospel. But through the grace of God that Gospel is brought to light again, and rightly instructs and harmonizes the people. The devil, unable to rest, had to rouse his factious rabble, his selfish souls, who desired the name of being superior and inspired people, a people who could preach, write and explain the Scriptures better than others; for they had learned a little from us. They conceded that the Gospel had indeed made a beginning, had somewhat purified ecclesiastical doctrine, but claimed it had not gone far enough; it was necessary that greater improvement be made--Church doctrine must be brought to far greater perfection. But as Paul says (1 Cor 3, 11), they could, with their doctrine, lay no other foundation, could preach no other Christ, than the Christ of the Gospel. Nevertheless, they pretended to teach something better and higher. They hindered and perverted the true doctrine. Their work could not be called building up the faith, but was rather breaking up and destroying its foundation and leading the people back into error and blindness. So Paul begins his admonition in these words: "Ye know that when ye were Gentiles ye were led away unto those dumb idols, howsoever ye might be led." 7. Paul reminds the Corinthians of their manner of life before they became Christians, for he would have them pause to think that their gifts, past and present, are not of their own procuring, nor are any gifts bestowed upon them because of merit on their part. It is his intent to restrain them from pride in their gifts and from disputations concerning them; to keep them from divisions and from pretending to teach and introduce into the Church something new and better. But at the same time he deals a blow to those who take offense at inharmony among Christians. 8. "Recall, all of you," Paul would say, "your manner of life before you came to Christ. What were you? Mere darkened heathen, having no knowledge of God but suffering yourselves blindly to be led by anyone who should say aught to you of God. All your devotion was but a discordant worship. Each one--even the child in the cradle, the infant at the mother's breast--must find his own idol wherever he might turn." St. Augustine tells us that the city of Rome alone had more than four hundred gods, and that it erected a church for all the gods in the world, which building still stands--the Pantheon. "These superstitions," Paul's words imply, "you followed as you were led; you flocked after them, praying and sacrificing, hanging your hearts upon dumb idols which could not teach and advise you, could not comfort, relieve or help you. In return for your devotion you obtained only the privilege of being a blind, wretched, divided, miserable people, unable to fortify yourselves against any error, and allowing yourselves to be distracted by the advocate of any doctrine. You were like a flock of helpless sheep scattered by wolves. 9. "But now you have been turned from that manifold idolatry to the one true worship and have been enlightened by God's Word. More than that, in Christ have been bestowed upon you great and glorious gifts--discerning of the Scriptures, diversities of tongues, power to work miracles--things impossible to the world. It is unmistakably evident that you embrace the true God, who does not, like dumb idols, leave you to wander in the error of your own speculations, uncounseled by the Word; a living God, who speaks to you that you may know what to expect from him, and works among you publicly and visibly. "Therefore, it is not for you to make divisions among yourselves after the manner of the heathen as you see in the great Babel confusion and divisions of the world, where no one agrees with another, where one runs to this his idol and another to that, each claiming superiority for his own. Knowing that you all embrace the one true God and his Word, you are to hold together in one faith and one mind, not disagreeing among yourselves as if you had a variety of gods, of faiths, of baptisms, spirits and salvations." CAVILERS THEMSELVES LED ASTRAY. 10. Paul speaks with particular plainness to the fault-finding and insolent cavilers against Christians and to other factious leaders when he says, "Ye were led away unto those dumb idols, howsoever ye might be led." This class peremptorily judge and criticise the life and doctrine of the Church because they see therein a measure of defects, and even some divisions and disagreements; notwithstanding the fact is plainly evident to them that the Church possesses the Word of God in purity, a knowledge of Christ, an illumined understanding of God's will and his grace, and true comfort for all distress of conscience, and that, in addition to all these, the Holy Spirit manifestly operates with them. At the same time, these same uncalled-for and self-constituted critics would never have been able to say anything about the Christian religion had they not witnessed that religion in the little company of Christians who have the Word of God and the Spirit's gifts. 11. These fault-finders were individuals who, undoubtedly to a greater extent than others, suffered themselves to be blindly led in whatever way was pointed out, and who gave credence to what was taught and preached to them concerning the way to serve God, yet who all the time were but worshipers of dumb idols, possessing not the Word of God and having no witness to the truth of their faith and their works. Each believed and followed the devices of his own imagination or the popular choice. No man was able to teach anything certain and steadfast, anything to give the heart satisfaction and perfect security. They continually changed from one thing to another, accepting every new thing presented as real worship and true doctrine. 12. And the world, ever from the beginning, has had naught but dumb idols in the countless forms of worship offered to the numerous gods--gods which never existed, but of which images were made and to which divine honors were shown. Worship has been rendered to the mere names of misfortune, disaster and disease, of all sorts; yes, to insects, and to garlic and onions even. Yet, in the practice of all this idolatry, supposed to be evidence of great holiness, each one sacrificing to the idol of his choice--in it all no one could have the assurance of being heard and answered by his god. Men had no word or sign of the divine will or work; they possessed naught but a vain dream and delusion of the human imagination; man devised and made his own idols. 13. And what did we under the papacy but walk blindly? We suffered ourselves to be led just as we were directed by the names of God and the saints. I was myself a pious monk and priest, holding mass daily, wherein I worshiped St. Barbara, St. Anna, St. Christopher and others--more saints than the calendar mentions, some of whom no one knew anything about. I had no knowledge of Christ, I knew not why I should find comfort in him nor what I should expect of him. I was as much afraid of him as of the devil himself, regarding him more a stern Judge than a Saviour. How many shameful pilgrimages were made to dead idols of wood and stone, images of Mary and of the saints! How many were the pilgrimages to the graves of the dead, and to bones called "holy relics"! These relics were mere open deception, devised by shameless impostors; yet such worship was established by popes and bishops, and indulgences granted therefor. 14. How many new saints, new brotherhoods, new psalms to Mary, and new rosaries and crowns did the monks daily invent? In fact, everything each individual monk might dream of had to be a special form of worship, and no one inquired whether or not it was at all authorized by God's Word. When we had done all, we were uncertain that we had pleased God. What was this sort of worship but a worship of dumb idols in the place of the living God--idols which could not talk with us and could not give any definite information or comfort, but left the people fettered and ruined with eternal doubts? FAITH IN THE ONE CHRIST PRODUCTIVE OF UNITY. 15. But Christians, as Paul says, have not a dead and dumb god, for which the Lord be praised! Nor will we countenance such idols. We have a living, speaking God, who gives us his infallible Word. We know how he is disposed toward us and what we may expect from him; namely: through faith in Christ we have forgiveness of sins and are his beloved children; and as evidence of acceptance with God, we have baptism and the Holy Supper, the office and gifts of the Holy Spirit, by which he works in our hearts. We know that in the faith of Christ our works and lives are pleasing to God, and that he will hear and help when in our distress and weakness we cry unto him. 16. Where this confidence obtains, where hearts enjoy such faith, there will be unity in the Church; for verily no one then will allow himself to be led into the manifold doctrines of insensible idols. But dissensions, sects and divisions are sure signs that the true doctrine is either ignored or misunderstood, men thus being left in a condition to be "tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine," as Paul says (Eph 4, 14); which is indisputably the case with these same schismatics who condemn the Church and her doctrines because of some discordant ones. The schismatics show by their very instability that they do not embrace the true, uniform and established doctrine, nor can exhibit any substitute for it. They refuse to see that in cases where the Christian doctrine does not obtain, there is only blindness, distraction and confusion, and warring factions and sects, none agreeing with another, each claiming to be better than the other. Numerous have been the sects of monks, and of saints of the Pope and his god the devil, no two of which agreed. Each class regarded its own whims and speculations, and claimed to be holier than the others. The Pope, however, gave validity to them all, granting great indulgence to these factious fraternities. And I am not saying anything of other discords in the papacy--among the monasteries and in the parishes, and between these and the cloisters everywhere, perpetual quarreling, rioting and bitter contention. Such is inevitably the case when righteousness and divine worship are made to consist in external self-devised works and forms, for then each individual, pleased with his own ideas, thinks his way right; under such circumstances, there can never be unanimity of opinion as to what is right and the best. 17. "From these numerous sources of disunion and idolatry," Paul would say to the Corinthians, "you are now delivered. You know you embrace the real Word of God, the true faith. You worship one God, one Lord, and enjoy the same grace, the same Spirit, the same salvation. You need not seek other forms and ceremonies as essential to salvation--wearing a white or a gray cowl, refraining from this or that food, forbearing to touch certain things. No diversity of external service, of persons, offices and conditions, destroys the unity in Christ. "But take heed to continue in unity, to hold fast to it. Unquestionably, you should be made wiser by the experience you have had with error; in the future you ought to be prudent, and watchful against being allured from the unity of this settled mind and true faith into your former blindness again. But so it will certainly befall you if you forget such grace and seek your own honor and praise more than the doctrine of the Holy Spirit and his gifts, and come to despise one another and to conduct yourselves as if you had many and not the same God, the same Christ, the same Spirit. God's gifts cannot be different from, but must be one with his nature, and hence he cannot give to one a better Gospel or a different baptism from that given another." In short, Paul teaches there must be unity in Christ, otherwise we have no Christ, no God and Holy Spirit, no grace nor salvation; as the next verse emphasizes. "Wherefore I make known unto you that no man speaking in the Spirit of God saith, Jesus is anathema [calleth Jesus accursed]; and no man can say, Jesus is Lord, but in the Holy Spirit." 18. "Why make divisions and differences," Paul inquires, "in the doctrine and faith of the Church, which rests wholly upon the one Christ? In him you are to be one if you are Christians at all; you must harmoniously praise him, according to your individual gifts. No one can possibly possess the Holy Spirit if he does not regard Christ as the Lord, much less if he call him accursed. Destroy the foundation and you destroy all; there will be no God, no Spirit, and all your claims, teaching and works are naught. You must recognize and be governed by the fact that either Christ must be received and believed in as the one true Lord, and praised and glorified as such, or else he will be cursed; between these alternatives is no medium." THE SPIRIT, THE TEST OF THE TRUE TEACHER. It is easy, then, to judge the doctrine of every official teacher of the Christian Church. No one need resort to faction, no one need gaze hither and thither in uncertainty and hesitate as to which gift or which person is most to be regarded. We are to make the doctrine of this verse the standard and authority as to what and how we preach concerning Christ. He who speaks by inspiration of the Holy Spirit certainly will not curse Christ; he will glorify and praise him. So doing, he surely will not teach error, or give occasion for divisions. If his teaching is not to the glory of God, you may safely conclude that he is not true, not inspired by the Holy Spirit. 19. Thus Paul rejects the glorying and boasting of the sects over their offices and gifts--they who pretend to be filled with the Spirit and to teach the people correctly, and who make out that Paul and other teachers are of no consequence. Themselves the chief of apostles, the people must hear them and accept their baptism. More than that, they demand a higher attainment in the Spirit for Gospel ministers, deeming faith, the Sacrament and the outward office not sufficient. But Paul says: "Boast as you will about the great measure of the Spirit you possess, it is certain that the Spirit-inspired teacher will not curse Christ." In other words, such boasting of the Spirit will not answer the purpose. What you believe and teach concerning Christ must receive attention. You are either reproaching and cursing Jesus, or praising him and owning him your Lord. If your preaching and teaching fail to point to Christ, something else being offered, and you nevertheless boast of the Spirit, you are already judged: the spirit you boast is not the Holy Spirit, not the true Spirit, but a false one. To it we are not to listen. Rather we are to condemn it to the abyss of hell, as Paul declares (Gal 1, 8), saying: "But though we, or an angel from heaven, should preach unto you any Gospel other than that which we preached unto you, let him be anathema." 20. When Paul here speaks of calling Jesus accursed, he does not only have reference to openly blaspheming or cursing Christ's name or person after the manner of heathen and of ungodly Jews; with them Paul has nothing to do here, nor are the Corinthians supposed to be of that character. Paul refers rather to the Christian who, though boasting of the Holy Spirit, does not preach Christ as the ground of our salvation as he should, but, neglecting this truth, points the soul away to something else, pretending that this substitute is of the Holy Spirit and is something better and more essential than the common doctrine of the Gospel. All such teachers are in reality simply guilty of condemning, reproaching and cursing Christ, though themselves bearing and boasting that name. To slight Christ's Word and ministry, and exalt in their stead other things as mediums for obtaining the Holy Spirit and eternal life, or at least as being equally efficacious and essential--what is this but scorning Christ and making him of no consequence? Indeed, according to Hebrews 6, 6 and 10, 29, it is crucifying the Son of God afresh, and treading under foot his blood. 21. Christ himself explains the office and ministry of the Holy Spirit--what he is to teach in the Church--saying (Jn 15, 26), "He shall bear witness of me." Again (Jn 16, 14): "He shall glorify me: for he shall take of mine, and shall declare it unto you." The tongue of a minister of Christ--the language he employs--must be of that simplicity which preaches naught but Christ. If he is to testify of the Saviour and glorify him, he cannot present other things whereby Christ would be ignored and robbed of his glory. He who does so, certainly is not inspired by the Holy Spirit, even though he possess great gifts and be called a teacher, a bishop, a pope, a council, an apostle even--yes, an angel from heaven. There were among the Corinthians some who thus neglected to preach only Christ, and presented instead the apostles, making choice of them--one Cephas, another Apollos and a third Paul. And just so our monks have done. They have in a way highly extolled Jesus, have in words honored and worshiped his name and used it to clothe all their lying nonsense and idolatry. For instance, they exalt Mary as the mother of Jesus and Anna as his grandmother. But they have thus torn men's hearts away from Christ, turning over to Mary and the saints the honor due him alone, and teaching the people to invoke these as mediators and intercessors having power to protect us in the hour of death. This is substituting dumb idols for Christ. No saint has ever taught such things; still less does the Word of God enjoin them. Thus the monks really curse and insult Christ. 22. The Pope, throughout his whole administration, has been guilty of such insult to Christ, notwithstanding his boast that his kingdom represents the Christian Church, that he truly possesses the Holy Spirit and that his decrees and ordinances must be respected. Nothing can dissuade the Papists from their practice. They ever boast of being led by the Spirit, yet their vaunting is mere malediction, not only of Christ in person, but of his Word and his sacraments. For they openly condemn, and denounce as heresy, the doctrine of the Gospel, which Gospel assures us that to Christ alone we owe the unmerited forgiveness of our sins; they condemn also the use of the sacraments according to Christ's command and institution. And they destroy the people who thus offend them. The fact is, the Pope has in our doctrine nothing to curse but Jesus Christ, its foundation and principle, expressed by his Word and sacraments. The same is true of other factions--the Anabaptists and similar sects. What else do they but slander baptism and the Lord's Supper when they pretend that the external Word and outward sacraments do not benefit the soul, that the Spirit alone can do that? But in these matters you have Paul's sure word of judgment to strengthen your faith. You may be assured that the factions of the Pope and other sects are not, as they boast, the Church of Christ, but accursed schisms of the devil. The true Church, the righteous bride of Christ, certainly will not curse him nor persecute his Word. Let no one be moved by hearing men loudly boast about Christ after the manner of the false apostles who called themselves disciples of the true apostles of Jesus, and claimed that certain of their number had even seen Christ in person. The Saviour himself warns us against this class when he says (Mt 24, 5-24), "Many shall come in my name ... and shall show wonders"; and (Mt 7, 21), "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven." HOLY SPIRIT ALONE GIVES ASSURANCE. 23. Paul has the same thought here when he says, "No man can say, Jesus is Lord, but in the Holy Spirit." To call Jesus "Lord" is to confess one's self his servant and to seek his honor alone; to act as his messenger or the bearer of his Word and command. Paul's reference here is chiefly to the office representative of Christ and bearing his Word. Where the office answers these conditions and points to Christ as the Lord, it is truly the message of the Holy Spirit, even though the occupant of the office does not in his own person possess the Spirit; the office itself is essentially the Holy Spirit. Hypocrisy and invention have no place here. One must proceed in sincerity if he would be certain he is Christ's minister, or apostle, and really handles his Word. Only the inspiration of the Holy Spirit can give one this assurance. 24. All Christians--each in his own work or sphere--equally may call Christ "Lord." One may be assured he serves Christ if he can call him "Lord," for only by the Holy Spirit is he enabled to do that. Let him try for a single day--from morning until evening--whether or no he can truly say at all times that he is the servant of God and of Christ in what he does. When delivering a sermon or listening to one, when baptizing a child or bringing a child to baptism, when pursuing your daily home duties, ask yourself if the act is attended by such faith that you can, without misgiving and not hypocritically nor mechanically, boast--and if necessary die by your word--that you serve and please Christ therein. This is calling Christ "Lord." Unquestionably you will often feel your heart doubting and trembling over the matter. 25. In the papacy we were altogether hindered from feeling thus confident--yes, frightened from it by accursed scepticism. No one could--no one dared--say, "I know I am a servant, a bondsman, of Christ, and that my conduct pleases him." Flesh and blood are too weak to obtain this glorious confidence; the Holy Spirit is essential. Reason and our own hearts cry out in protest: "Alas, I am far too evil and unworthy! How could I be proud and presumptuous enough to boast myself the servant of the Lord Jesus Christ? I might if I were as holy as St. Peter, St. Paul and others." 26. I used often to wonder that St. Ambrose was so bold as, in his letters, to call himself a servant of Jesus Christ. I supposed we all ought to be terrified at thoughts of this kind, and that none but the apostles might boast of such honor. But the fact is, we must all say to Christ: "Thou art my Lord and I am thy servant; for I believe on thee and aspire to be with thee and all the faithful and to possess thy Word and Sacrament." Otherwise Christ will not acknowledge us. CHRISTIANS TO GIVE ALL GLORY TO GOD. It is written (Mt 4, 10)--indeed, it is the first commandment--"Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve." There Christ requires of us, under the penalty of forfeiting eternal life, to honor him as our Lord and so to regulate our lives that we shall know we serve him. Peter also teaches (1 Pet 4, 11) that all the Christian's words and deeds should be regarded not as his own, but as God's. The word and the act are to be of the ability which God gives, that in it all God may be glorified. Of necessity this condition can obtain only through the Holy Spirit. 27. In this point--the glorification of Christ--do the true Christians distinguish themselves from false Christians, hypocrites and factious spirits, who likewise triumphantly boast of the Spirit and of their divine office. But the vanity of their boasting is evident from the fact that they do not hold to the doctrine that glorifies Christ, but preach that which leads to other evils and deceives; yes, which condemns and persecutes the right doctrine and the true faith of Christ. Further evidence of the emptiness of their boasting is apparent in the fact that they have no conscious testimony that they serve Christ, nor can their followers give assurance on the same point. You have here the clear sentence of Paul declaring this class devoid of the Holy Spirit and thus separated from the true Church and from Christians. He exhorts us to be on our guard against them, and would bring Christians together in one faith and under one Lord and Spirit. Now he teaches how to employ rightly the manifold gifts of a united Church for the general benefit of its members. "Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit." 28. "In former time, when you were heathen, you followed many kinds of idolatrous worship, many doctrines and spirits; but it was only a divided religion, and representative of blindness and error. Now, however, you possess various beautiful divine gifts and offices. These are mutually related and all emanate, not from man's reason or faculties, but from the one true God. They are his work--the expression of his power. Notwithstanding the dissimilarity of gifts, offices and works, of a certain order in one and otherwise in another, many and few, great and small, weak and strong--notwithstanding all, we are not to divide the Spirit, God and faith; we are not to create factions, exalting this individual or that one solely because of his gifts, and despising others. All gifts are direct from one God, one Lord, one Spirit, and to serve the same purpose--to bring men to the knowledge of the one God and to build up the Church in the unity of faith. Therefore, you are united in the one doctrine, your object being to serve God and the Church in a harmonious way." This verse is briefly the substance of all that follows in the text. THE TRINITY. 29. Paul presents three different points: "Diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit;" "diversities of administrations, and the same Lord;" "diversities of workings, but the same God." Unquestionably, Paul touches the article of faith concerning the Trinity, or three persons in the Divine Essence, and shows that both Christ and the Holy Spirit are true God and yet different in person from the Father and from each other. He teaches the same elsewhere (1 Cor 8, 5-6), saying: "For though there be that are called gods, whether in heaven or on earth; as there are gods many, and lords many; yet to us there is one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we unto him; and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things, and we through him." 30. In the text before us, the apostle likewise distinguishes the three--one God, one Lord, one Spirit. He assigns to each the particular operation whereby he manifests himself. One is God the Father, and from him as the origin and first person emanates all power. Another is the Lord, Christ the Son of God, who as the head of the Church appoints all offices. The third is the Spirit, who produces and dispenses all gifts in the Church. Yet all three are of one divine, almighty and eternal essence. They are of the same name, and are truly one since God must be an indivisible essence. To each individual is attributed only the characteristics of the Divine Majesty. As he who is the source of all operative power in the Church and in the entire creation is true God; so also must the Lord who appoints all offices, and the Spirit who confers all gifts, be true God. No creature is able to impart spiritual offices and gifts; that is impossible to any but God. These three--God, Lord and Spirit--are not Gods of unlike nature, but one in divine essence. The Lord is no other God than God the Father; and the Spirit is none other than God and the Lord. But more on this topic elsewhere. SPIRITUAL GIFTS SPECIFIED. 31. The names and nature of the spiritual gifts, the apostle here specifies. He names wisdom, knowledge, prophecy, power to discern spirits, capacity to speak with tongues and to interpret, extraordinary gifts of faith, and power to work miracles. "The word of wisdom" is the doctrine which teaches a knowledge of God, revealing his will, counsel and design. It embraces every article of belief and justification. The world knows nothing of this loftiest, most exalted gift of the Spirit. THE WORD OF KNOWLEDGE. The "word of knowledge" also teaches of the outward life and interests of the Christian: how we are to conduct ourselves toward all others, making a profitable use of the Gospel doctrine according as necessity of time and person demands; it teaches us the wisest course toward the weak and the strong, the timid and the obstinate. THE GIFT OF PROPHECY. The gift of prophecy is the ability to rightly interpret and explain the Scriptures, and powerfully to reveal therefrom the doctrine of faith and the overthrow of false doctrine. The gift of prophecy includes, further, the ability to employ the Scriptures for admonition and reproof, for imparting strength and comfort, by pointing out, on the one hand, the certainty of future indignation, vengeance and punishment for the unbelieving and disobedient, and on the other hand presenting divine aid and reward to godly believers. Thus did the prophets with the Word of God, both the Law and the promises. THE GIFT OF FAITH. 32. Paul is making mention of gifts not common to all. Only to certain ones are they given, and the gifts in themselves are unlike. "To another faith," he says, "to another workings of miracles, and to another prophecy." In "faith" here the reference is not to ordinary faith in Christ which brings justification before God and forgiveness of sin; such faith is essentially the property of every Christian, even if they do not possess the particular gifts here enumerated. Paul is speaking of a particular virtue or power of the Spirit operating in the Church, whereby certain ones can effect great and glorious things by reason of their remarkable and confident courage; as instanced in Paul's words later on (1 Cor 13, 2), "If I have all faith, so as to remove mountains." To work such wonders, a very strong and sure faith is certainly necessary. An unwavering, vigorous, courageous faith may accomplish a special work in the name and power of Christ although the worker may not himself be truly repentant nor possess the right kind of faith to secure forgiveness of sins and grace in Christ. He may be a hypocrite, a false saint. Christ says (Mt 7, 22), "Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy by thy name, and by thy name cast out demons, and by thy name do many mighty works?" It is true that such gifts are exercised, such works performed, in the name of Christ, and that the gifts are granted to none but individuals in the Church of Christ, and yet the possessor may not be altogether righteous, may even be a false Christian. For the effects wrought do not emanate from the individual but from the office he represents, being the operation of the Spirit given in behalf of the Church. Thus, as occupants of the office and by virtue of the Church, these persons perform many and great works, benefiting not themselves but others. 33. Paul says of all these, "There are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit," by way of admonishing us against creating sects. The Spirit is equally effective through him whose gifts are few and less significant and through him of remarkable gifts. And as with gifts, so it is with workings and ministrations. MEANING OF "WORKINGS." 34. The term "workings," or operations, has reference to remarkable works of God wrought through certain individuals in an exceptional way. For instance, he grants to Paul a ministerial office of unusual influence: Paul is permitted to convert more souls than other apostles, to perform more wonders and accomplish more. He says himself (1 Cor 15, 10) that by the grace of God he labored more abundantly than all. MEANING OF "ADMINISTRATIONS." 35. The meaning of "administrations" is easily apparent. Office is an ordained and essential feature of every government. It represents various duties imposed and commanded by sovereign authority. It may have reference to the duties enjoined upon a society collectively, in the service of others. There are various offices in the Church; for instance, one individual is an apostle, another an evangelist, another a teacher, as Paul mentions in Ephesians 4, 11. And as he says in First Corinthians 14, 26 and also hints in this text, the office of one is to read the Scriptures in different languages, of another to interpret and explain. So it was ordained in the Church at that time, and similarly today are ordained certain offices--of pastors, preachers, deacons or priests, their duties being to hear confessions, to administer the Sacrament, and so on. 36. Not every Christian is obliged, nor is able, to execute such duties; only upon certain ones are they enjoined. "Administrations" differ from what Paul terms "workings" and gifts. There have ever been many Christians who, though possessing the Holy Spirit, were not "administrators;" for instance, virgins and wives--Agnes Anastasia and others--and martyrs, many of whom wrought miracles and had other gifts. True, both gifts and workings are imparted chiefly for the execution of Christian duties. It is essential here, especially in the superior office of preaching, that the occupant be peculiarly qualified for the place. The preacher must be able to understand and explain the Scriptures and be familiar with the languages. It is necessary to the effectiveness of his labors that he be accompanied by God's operative power. Thus the three--gifts, workings, administrations--are harmonious features of one divine government in the Church; Christ is the Lord, who regulates and maintains the offices, while God works and the Holy Spirit bestows his gifts. DIVERSITY OF GIFTS NO REASON FOR SECTS. 37. As we said, offices are many and varied, even as one gift is greater than another: an apostle, for instance, is superior to a teacher or expounder, while the office of a baptizer is inferior to that of a preacher. Yet notwithstanding, we are to remember, Paul says, that all are ordained of the same Lord, and the occupant of a superior office is not to consider himself any better by reason of his position and to despise others. He must bear in mind that all serve the same Lord, the least as well as the greatest, and consequently the holder of the inferior office is not necessarily inferior with his Lord, nor the executor of the higher office greater with him. Christ is ever Lord of all; one belongs as much to his realm as another. Therefore he will have no divisions and sects over this point; rather he wills that such diversity of gifts and offices be promotive of unity. 38. When I preach and you listen, we are not exercising the same gift and office, yet you as truly serve Christ by listening as I by preaching. If you preach, explain the Scriptures, baptize, comfort or aught else, through you works the same Christ who works through another. All is wrought in obedience to the order of him who commands me to hear his Word as well as to preach to you, and to exercise the same faith and Spirit with you. Thus all alike praise the one Lord. You say, "The Word I hear is the true Word of God," and I as a preacher prove and declare the very same thing. When I baptize, administer the Sacrament or absolve, and you accept my administrations, we are both engaged in the service of the same Lord and harmoniously execute his command. You and I, however, so far as office and gifts are considered, may be of different capacities. 39. A peculiarity of the Christian profession, and the chief point of distinction between Christians and the heathen, is their recognition of the fact that workings, offices and gifts are of God, Christ the Lord and the Holy Spirit. The world does not perceive this truth, though it, too, enjoys the gifts of God. For God remembers all his creatures, though, like swine that enter the trough on all fours with no thought but of eating and rooting therein, not even lifting their eyes, they cannot raise their thoughts to the source of all their good and have not a thought as to whom they should thank for it. He who is not a Christian comes before God in an insensible and beastly attitude. The world is but a pen of animals indifferent to the kingdom of God and with no idea of gratitude for his rich beneficence, his gifts for body and soul. The worldly seek only their husks and their troughs. To these they cleave like fattening swine intended for slaughter. Jeremiah (ch. 12, 3) says concerning the ungodly, who with great satisfaction persecute the righteous: "Pull them out like sheep for the slaughter, and prepare them for the day of slaughter." 40. God gives the ungodly mighty kingdoms, riches, lands and houses, making them to enjoy greatness and abundance. But when the swine are fed and fat, the question of bacon and sausage introduces a struggle. A slaughterer--a sausage-maker--appears, perchance, to slaughter the swine in their sty; one comes desolating the country, overthrowing the kingdom, destroying people and all; for, desiring to be but swine, the people must be destroyed like swine. Even though the world have personal knowledge of such punishment, it continues its course so long as possible--until the slaughterer comes. Swine remain swine; they are capable of standing ever unmoved by their trough, one perfectly indifferent if another be struck dead before its eyes. CHRISTIANS RECOGNIZE THE DIVINE SOURCE OF THEIR GIFTS. 41. Christians, however, though obliged to live among swine and to be at times trampled under foot and rooted about, have nevertheless surpassing glory; for they can look up and intelligently behold their Lord and his gifts. They are not of the pen of swine intended only for slaughter; they know themselves children of God, adorned by him with gifts and graces not merely temporal. They are conscious that, having given them body and life--for these they realize are not of their own obtaining--he will also supply their further needs, providing for them forever. 42. Christians are able to recognize even God's least blessing as most precious, as truly excellent; not only because it comes from him, but because of its inherent value. No one who recognizes even temporal blessings would give an eye, or a less important member of the body, to redeem the riches of the entire world. How much loftier and more precious to the Christian are the spiritual gifts concerning which Paul here speaks--gifts bestowed as means unto salvation! The baptizing of a child or the absolution of a penitent makes no great show, but were the office viewed in the true light, the bestowed treasure rightly appreciated, all the officers, authority and riches of kings and emperors would be nothing at all in comparison. 43. Regarding the baptizer--who may be a woman even--and the baptized, we certainly can see nothing wonderful. The humanity in the case does not effect any great work; the work is wrought by him who is God, Lord and Spirit. It is he who gives to the office power and greatness above that of all emperors, kings and lords, however inferior the instrumentality--the occupants of the sacred offices. By these ministrations souls are won from the devil, snatched out of hell and transformed into saints blessed forever. Person and office may be apparently inferior, but the office is of God and God is no inferior being. His greatness cannot be equaled by a hundred thousand worlds. He accomplishes things incomprehensible to the world and impossible to angels. The combined efforts of all creation could not produce baptism. Were the world to unite in baptizing an infant, the infant would receive no good therefrom unless God the Lord commanded the deed. Let the Sultan be many thousands of times more powerful than at present and he could not, with all his riches, his dominion and peoples, free himself or any other from the power of the least sin. He could not effectively pronounce the absolution, "God has forgiven you your sins." For the Sultan has neither gift, office nor work; indeed, he knows nothing about them. They belong to God alone, though human mouths and hands are instrumental therein. 44. Note why Paul boasts of the fact that God bestows such great blessings. It is that Christians may discern them and thank him; and that such discernment may lead them to serve one another in humility, with mutual faith and love, each one learning to praise God fervently wherever he beholds God's gifts and offices operative in the Church, and to esteem them as he would esteem God himself. For, unquestionably, none would possess office and gifts had not God ordained and bestowed them. 45. How we have exalted our own nonsense--pilgrimages, cloisters, cords, cowls, running to the dead in the wilderness and so on! But to what purpose? What benefit have we derived therefrom, notwithstanding we walked until our feet were bleeding, and watched and fasted and tormented ourselves to death? Such a life, it is true, may be called holy, divine, yet it is not at all the gift, the work, the office, of God. No God, no Lord, no Spirit, is in that practice. God has nowhere commanded such a life. We have devised it and may reward and help ourselves for so doing. We cannot boast his authority for it nor find divine comfort therein. But the discerning Christian can with satisfaction boast on this wise: "My baptism or my absolution is not of my own devising or ordaining, nor of another man's. It is of Christ my Lord. For here is his command ordaining the office: 'Go ye therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.' Mt 28, 19. Upon authority of the office, work and gift here presented, I can boast and be strong in faith against the devil and all the gates of hell; otherwise I cannot withstand Satan for one moment. He would not be afraid of me and my works though I should be able to boast of having lived seventy years as a member of a holy order, serving God every day and hour, praying, fasting, and so on." 46. The devil hurls both person and work, as he finds them, into the abyss of hell. If he ask you where God has commanded such works as yours, you have no answer. But let him hear you boast in the confident faith God's command inspires: "I have received from Christ my Lord baptism and absolution; of this I am certain, and what I do is done at his command and by his power"--let him hear that and he is forced immediately to leave you. He must flee, not from your person or works, but from Christ's office and gifts found with you. 47. Paul presents these thoughts to teach us what we Christians have from God in the three forms, blessings superior to those enjoyed by all others in the world. The apostle would have us be grateful for these things and make use of them in a spirit of Christian love. He desires that the possessor of gifts devote them to the service of others. He teaches we are to honor God in the gifts another possesses; that we are highly to esteem them, remembering they are not of man's production, not wrought of man's ability or skill, but are the offices, gifts and works of God. They are not the inferior and trivial things they seem to the world because making no show and noise. God does not give unredeemable coin or empty shells and mere husks. His gifts and works in his Church must effect inexpressible results, taking souls from the jaws of the devil and translating them into eternal life and glory. _Eleventh Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 1 Corinthians 15, 1-10. 1 Now I make known unto you, brethren, the gospel which I preached unto you, which also ye received, wherein also ye stand, 2 by which also ye are saved, if ye hold fast the word which I preached unto you, except ye believed in vain. 3 For I delivered unto you first of all that which also I received: that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; 4 and that he was buried; and that he hath been raised on the third day according to the scriptures; 5 and that he appeared to Cephas; then to the twelve; 6 then he appeared to above five hundred brethren at once, of whom the greater part remain until now, but some are fallen asleep; 7 then he appeared to James; then to all the apostles; 8 and last of all, as to the child untimely born, he appeared to me also. 9 For I am the least of the apostles, that am not meet to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. 10 But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not found vain; but I labored more abundantly than they all: yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me. PAUL'S WITNESS TO CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. This text is fully explained in the sermons on the entire chapter, which have been published separately. He who desires may read them there. It speaks almost exclusively of the resurrection of the dead, and therefore ought properly to be read and preached at the Easter season. The reason of its selection for this Sunday seems to be that the latter part of it corresponds with the Gospel for this Sunday. For Saint Paul, though he was an exalted apostle, and had labored in that office more than all the others together, boasts not of his own deeds, as did the proud Pharisee. Like the poor publican he confessed his sin and unworthiness, and ascribed all that he is to the grace of God alone, which made a Christian and an apostle of him who had been a persecutor. _Twelfth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 2 Corinthians 3, 4-11. 4 And such confidence have we through Christ to God-ward: 5 not that we are sufficient of ourselves, to account anything as from ourselves; but our sufficiency is from God; 6 who also made us sufficient as ministers of a new covenant; not of the letter, but of the spirit: for the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life. 7 But if the ministration of death, written, and engraven on stones, came with glory, so that the children of Israel could not look stedfastly upon the face of Moses for the glory of his face; which glory was passing away: 8 how shall not rather the ministration of the spirit be with glory? 9 For if the ministration of condemnation hath glory, much rather doth the ministration of righteousness exceed in glory. 10 For verily that which hath been made glorious hath not been made glorious in this respect, by reason of the glory that surpasseth. 11 For if that which passeth away was with glory, much more that which remaineth is in glory. GOSPEL TRANSCENDS LAW. 1. This epistle lesson sounds altogether strange and wonderful to individuals unaccustomed to Scripture language, particularly to that of Paul. To the inexperienced ear and heart it is not intelligible. In popedom thus far it has remained quite unapprehended, although reading of the words has been practiced. 2. That we may understand it, we must first get an idea of Paul's theme. Briefly, he would oppose the vain boasting of false apostles and preachers concerning their possession of the spirit and their peculiar skill and gifts, by praising and glorifying the office of a preacher of the Gospel with which he is intrusted. For he found that, especially in the Church at Corinth, which he had converted by the words of his own lips and brought to faith in Christ, soon after his departure the devil introduced his heresies whereby the people were turned from the truth and betrayed into other ways. Since it became his duty to make an attack upon such heresies, he devoted both his epistles to the purpose of keeping the Corinthians in the right way, so that they might retain the pure doctrine received from him, and beware of false spirits. The main thing which moved him to write this second epistle was his desire to emphasize to them his apostolic office of a preacher of the Gospel, in order to put to shame the glory of those other teachers--the glory they boasted with many words and great pretense. 3. He starts in on this theme just before he reaches our text. And this is how it is he comes to speak in high terms of praise of the ministration of the Gospel and to contrast and compare the twofold ministration or message which may be proclaimed in the Church, provided, of course, that God's Word is to be preached and not the nonsense of human falsehood and the doctrine of the devil. One is that of the Old Testament, the other of the New; in other words, the office of Moses, or the Law, and the office of the Gospel of Christ. He contrasts the glory and power of the latter with those of the former, which, it is true, is also the Word of God. In this manner he endeavors to defeat the teachings and pretensions of those seductive spirits who, as he but lately foretold, pervert God's Word, in that they greatly extol the Law of God, yet at best do not teach its right use, but, instead of making it tributary to faith in Christ, misuse it to teach work-righteousness. 4. Since the words before us are in reality a continuation of those with which the chapter opens, the latter must be considered in this connection. We read: "Are we beginning again to commend ourselves? or need we, as do some, epistles of commendation to you or from you? Ye are our epistle, written in our hearts, known and read of all men; being made manifest that ye are an epistle of Christ, ministered by us, written not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God; not in tables of stone, but in tables that are hearts of flesh." "We, my fellow-apostles and co-laborers and I," he says, "do not ask for letters and seals from others commending us to you, or from you commending us to others, in order to seduce people after gaining their good will in your church and in others as well. Such is the practice of the false apostles, and many even now present letters and certificates from honest preachers and Churches, and make them the means whereby their unrighteous plotting may be received in good faith. Such letters, thank God, we stand not in need of, and you need not fear we shall use such means of deception. For you are yourselves the letter we have written and wherein we may pride ourselves and which we present everywhere. For it is a matter of common knowledge that you have been taught by us, and brought to Christ through our ministry." PAUL'S CONVERTS LIVING EPISTLES. 5. Inasmuch as his activity among them is his testimonial, and they themselves are aware that through his ministerial office he has constituted them a church, he calls them an epistle written by himself; not with ink and in paragraphs, not on paper or wood, nor engraved upon hard rock as the Ten Commandments written upon tables of stone, which Moses placed before the people, but written by the Holy Spirit upon fleshly tables--hearts of tender flesh. The Spirit is the ink or the inscription, yes, even the writer himself; but the pencil or pen and the hand of the writer is the ministry of Paul. 6. This figure of a written epistle is, however, in accord with Scripture usage. Moses commands (Deut 6, 6-9; 11, 18) that the Israelites write the Ten Commandments in all places where they walked or stood--upon the posts of their houses, and upon their gates, and ever have them before their eyes and in their hearts. Again (Prov 7, 2-3), Solomon says: "Keep my commandments and ... my law as the apple of thine eye. Bind them upon thy fingers; write them upon the tablet of thy heart." He speaks as a father to his child when giving the child an earnest charge to remember a certain thing--"Dear child, remember this; forget it not; keep it in thy heart." Likewise, God says in the book of Jeremiah the prophet (ch. 31, 33), "I will put my law in their inward parts, and in their heart will I write it." Here man's heart is represented as a sheet, or slate, or page, whereon is written the preached Word; for the heart is to receive and securely keep the Word. In this sense Paul says: "We have, by our ministry, written a booklet or letter upon your heart, which witnesses that you believe in God the Father, Son and Holy Ghost and have the assurance that through Christ you are redeemed and saved. This testimony is what is written on your heart. The letters are not characters traced with ink or crayon, but the living thoughts, the fire and force of the heart." 7. Note further, that it is his ministry to which Paul ascribes the preparation of their heart thereon and the inscription which constitutes them "living epistles of Christ." He contrasts his ministry with the blind fancies of those fanatics who seek to receive, and dream of having, the Holy Spirit without the oral word; who, perchance, creep into a corner and grasp the Spirit through dreams, directing the people away from the preached Word and visible ministry. But Paul says that the Spirit, through his preaching, has wrought in the hearts of his Corinthians, to the end that Christ lives and is mighty in them. After such statement he bursts into praise of the ministerial office, comparing the message, or preaching, of Moses with that of himself and the apostles. He says: "Such confidence have we through Christ to God-ward: not that we are sufficient of ourselves, to account anything as from ourselves; but our sufficiency is from God." TRUE PREACHERS COMMISSIONED BY GOD. 8. These words are blows and thrusts for the false apostles and preachers. Paul is mortal enemy to the blockheads who make great boast, pretending to what they do not possess and to what they cannot do; who boast of having the Spirit in great measure; who are ready to counsel and aid the whole world; who pride themselves on the ability to invent something new. It is to be a surpassingly precious and heavenly thing they are to spin out of their heads, as the dreams of pope and monks have been in time past. "We do not so," says Paul. "We rely not upon ourselves or our wisdom and ability. We preach not what we have ourselves invented. But this is our boast and trust in Christ before God, that we have made of you a divine epistle; have written upon your hearts, not our thoughts, but the Word of God. We are not, however, glorifying our own power, but the works and the power of him who has called and equipped us for such an office; from whom proceeds all you have heard and believed." 9. It is a glory which every preacher may claim, to be able to say with full confidence of heart: "This trust have I toward God in Christ, that what I teach and preach is truly the Word of God." Likewise, when he performs other official duties in the Church--baptizes a child, absolves and comforts a sinner--it must be done in the same firm conviction that such is the command of Christ. 10. He who would teach and exercise authority in the Church without this glory, "it is profitable for him," as Christ says (Mt 18, 6), "that a great millstone should be hanged about his neck, and that he should be sunk in the depths of the sea." For the devil's lies he preaches, and death is what he effects. Our Papists, in time past, after much and long-continued teaching, after many inventions and works whereby they hoped to be saved, nevertheless always doubted in heart and mind whether or no they had pleased God. The teaching and works of all heretics and seditious spirits certainly do not bespeak for them trust in Christ; their own glory is the object of their teaching, and the homage and praise of the people is the goal of their desire. "Not that we are sufficient of ourselves, to account anything as from ourselves." 11. As said before, this is spoken in denunciation of the false spirits who believe that by reason of eminent equipment of special creation and election, they are called to come to the rescue of the people, expecting wonders from whatever they say and do. HUMAN DOCTRINE NO PLACE IN THE CHURCH. 12. Now, we know ourselves to be of the same clay whereof they are made; indeed, we perhaps have the greater call from God: yet we cannot boast of being capable of ourselves to advise or aid men. We cannot even originate an idea calculated to give help. And when it comes to the knowledge of how one may stand before God and attain to eternal life, that is truly not to be achieved by our work or power, nor to originate in our brain. In other things, those pertaining to this temporal life, you may glory in what you know, you may advance the teachings of reason, you may invent ideas of your own; for example: how to make shoes or clothes, how to govern a household, how to manage a herd. In such things exercise your mind to the best of your ability. Cloth or leather of this sort will permit itself to be stretched and cut according to the good pleasure of the tailor or shoemaker. But in spiritual matters, human reasoning certainly is not in order; other intelligence, other skill and power, are requisite here--something to be granted by God himself and revealed through his Word. 13. What mortal has ever discovered or fathomed the truth that the three persons in the eternal divine essence are one God; that the second person, the Son of God, was obliged to become man, born of a virgin; and that no way of life could be opened for us, save through his crucifixion? Such truth never would have been heard nor preached, would never in all eternity have been published, learned and believed, had not God himself revealed it. 14. For this season they are blind fools of first magnitude and dangerous characters who would boast of their grand performances, and think that the people are served when they preach their own fancies and inventions. It has been the practice in the Church for anyone to introduce any teaching he saw fit; for example, the monks and priests have daily produced new saints, pilgrimages, special prayers, works and sacrifices in the effort to blot out sin, redeem souls from purgatory, and so on. They who make up things of this kind are not such as put their trust in God through Christ, but rather such as defy God and Christ. Into the hearts of men, where Christ alone should be, they shove the filth and write the lies of the devil. Yet they think themselves, and themselves only, qualified for all essential teaching and work, self-grown doctors that they are, saints all-powerful without the help of God and Christ. "But our sufficiency is from God." 15. Of ourselves--in our own wisdom and strength--we cannot effect, discover nor teach any counsel or help for man, whether for ourselves or others. Any good work we perform among you, any doctrine we write upon your heart--that is God's own work. He puts into our heart and mouth what we should say, and impresses it upon your heart through the Holy Spirit. Therefore, we cannot ascribe to ourselves any honor therein, cannot seek our own glory as the self-instructed and proud spirits do; we must give to God alone the honor, and must glory in the fact that by his grace and power he works in you unto salvation, through the office committed unto us. 16. Now, Paul's thought here is that nothing should be taught and practiced in the Church but what is unquestionably God's Word. It will not do to introduce or perform anything whatever upon the strength of man's judgment. Man's achievements, man's reasoning and power, are of no avail save in so far as they come from God. As Peter says in his first epistle (ch. 4, 11): "If any man speaketh, speaking as it were oracles of God; if any man ministereth, ministering as of the strength which God supplieth." In short, let him who would be wise, who would boast of great skill, talents and power, confine himself to things other than spiritual; with respect to spiritual matters, let him keep his place and refrain from boasting and pretense. For it is of no moment that men observe your greatness and ability; the important thing is that poor souls may rest assured of being presented with God's Word and works, whereby they may be saved. "Who also made us sufficient as ministers of a new covenant; not of the letter, but of the spirit: for the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life." THE NEW COVENANT. 17. Paul here proceeds to exalt the office and power of the Gospel over the glorying of the false apostles, and to elevate the power of the Word above that of all other doctrine, even of the Law of God. Truly we are not sufficient of ourselves and have nothing to boast of so far as human activity is considered. For that is without merit or power, however strenuous the effort may be to fulfil God's Law. We have, however, something infinitely better to boast of, something not grounded in our own activity: by God we have been made sufficient for a noble ministry, termed the ministry "of a New Covenant." This ministry is not only exalted far above any teaching to be evolved by human wisdom, skill and power, but is more glorious than the ministry termed the "Old Covenant," which in time past was delivered to the Jews through Moses. While this ministry clings, in common with other doctrine, to the Word given by revelation, it is the agency whereby the Holy Spirit works in the heart. Therefore, Paul says it is not a ministration of the letter, but "of the spirit." "SPIRIT" AND "LETTER." 18. This passage relative to spirit and letter has in the past been wholly strange language to us. Indeed, to such extent has man's nonsensical interpretation perverted and weakened it that I, though a learned doctor of the holy Scriptures, failed to understand it altogether, and I could find no one to teach me. And to this day it is unintelligible to all popedom. In fact, even the old teachers--Origen, Jerome and others--have not caught Paul's thought. And no wonder, truly! For it is essentially a doctrine far beyond the power of man's intelligence to comprehend. When human reason meddles with it, it becomes perplexed. The doctrine is wholly unintelligible to it, for human thought goes no farther than the Law and the Ten Commandments. Laying hold upon these it confines itself to them. It does not attempt to do more, being governed by the principle that unto him who fulfils the demands of the Law, or commandments, God is gracious. Reason knows nothing about the wretchedness of depraved nature. It does not recognize the fact that no man is able to keep God's commandments; that all are under sin and condemnation; and that the only way whereby help could be received was for God to give his Son for the world, ordaining another ministration, one through which grace and reconciliation might be proclaimed to us. Now, he who does not understand the sublime subject of which Paul speaks cannot but miss the true meaning of his words. How much more did we invite this fate when we threw the Scriptures and Saint Paul's epistles under the bench, and, like swine in husks, wallowed in man's nonsense! Therefore, we must submit to correction and learn to understand the apostle's utterance aright. 19. "Letter" and "spirit" have been understood to mean, according to Origen and Jerome, the obvious sense of the written word. St. Augustine, it must be admitted, has gotten an inkling of the truth. Now, the position of the former teachers would perhaps not be quite incorrect did they correctly explain the words. By "literary sense" they signify the meaning of a Scripture narrative according to the ordinary interpretation of the words. By "spiritual sense" they signify the secondary, hidden, sense found in the words. For instance: The Scripture narrative in Genesis third records how the serpent persuaded the woman to eat of the forbidden fruit and to give to her husband, who also ate. This narrative in its simplest meaning represents what they understand by "letter." "Spirit," however, they understand to mean the spiritual interpretation, which is thus: The serpent signifies the evil temptation which lures to sin. The woman represents the sensual state, or the sphere in which such enticements and temptations make themselves felt. Adam, the man, stands for reason, which is called man's highest endowment. Now, when reason does not yield to the allurements of external sense, all is well; but when it permits itself to waver and consent, the fall has taken place. 20. Origen was the first to trifle thus with the holy Scriptures, and many others followed, until now it is thought to be the sign of great cleverness for the Church to be filled with such quibblings. The aim is to imitate Paul, who (Gal 4, 22-24) figuratively interprets the story of Abraham's two sons, the one by the free woman, or the mistress of the house, and the other by the hand-maid. The two women, Paul says, represent the two covenants: one covenant makes only bond-servants, which is just what he in our text terms the ministration of the letter; the other leads to liberty, or, as he says here, the ministration of the spirit, which gives life. And the two sons are the two peoples, one of which does not go farther than the Law, while the other accepts in faith the Gospel. True, this is an interpretation not directly suggested by the narrative and the text. Paul himself calls it an allegory; that is, a mystic narrative, or a story with a hidden meaning. But he does not say that the literal text is necessarily the letter that killeth, and the allegory, or hidden meaning, the spirit. But the false teachers assert of all Scripture that the text, or record itself, is but a dead "letter," its interpretation being "the spirit." Yet they have not pushed interpretation farther than the teaching of the Law; and it is precisely the Law which Paul means when he speaks of "the letter."[1] [Footnote 1: What Luther means is that the popish theologians with their vaunted "spiritual" interpretation had never penetrated to the Gospel, which confers the life in the Spirit, but had satisfied themselves with so literal and superficial an interpretation of the Law as to seek salvation through work-righteousness.] 21. Paul employs the word "letter" in such contemptuous sense in reference to the Law--though the Law is, nevertheless, the Word of God--when he compares it with the ministry of the Gospel. The letter is to him the doctrine of the Ten Commandments, which teach how we should obey God, honor parents, love our neighbor, and so on--the very best doctrine to be found in all books, sermons and schools. The word "letter" is to the apostle Paul everything which may take the form of doctrine, of literary arrangement, of record, so long as it remains something spoken or written. Also thoughts which may be pictured or expressed by word or writing, but it is not that which is written in the heart, to become its life. "Letter" is the whole Law of Moses, or the Ten Commandments, though the supreme authority of such teaching is not denied. It matters not whether you hear them, read them, or reproduce them mentally. For instance, when I sit down to meditate upon the first commandment: "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," or the second, or the third, and so forth, I have something which I can read, write, discuss, and aim to fulfil with all my might. The process is quite similar when the emperor or prince gives a command and says: "This you shall do, that you shall eschew." This is what the apostle calls "the letter," or, as we have called it on another occasion, the written sense. 22. Now, as opposed to "the letter," there is another doctrine or message, which he terms the "ministration of a New Covenant" and "of the Spirit." This doctrine does not teach what works are required of man, for that man has already heard; but it makes known to him what God would do for him and bestow upon him, indeed what he has already done: he has given his Son Christ for us; because, for our disobedience to the Law, which no man fulfils, we were under God's wrath and condemnation. Christ made satisfaction for our sins, effected a reconciliation with God and gave to us his own righteousness. Nothing is said in this ministration of man's deeds; it tells rather of the works of Christ, who is unique in that he was born of a virgin, died for sin and rose from the dead, something no other man has been able to do. This doctrine is revealed through none but the Holy Spirit, and none other confers the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit works in the hearts of them who hear and accept the doctrine. Therefore, this ministration is termed a ministration "of the Spirit." 23. The apostle employs the words "letter" and "spirit," to contrast the two doctrines; to emphasize his office and show its advantage over all others, however eminent the teachers whom they boast, and however great the spiritual unction which they vaunt. It is of design that he does not term the two dispensations "Law" and "Gospel," but names them according to the respective effects produced. He honors the Gospel with a superior term--"ministration of the spirit." Of the Law, on the contrary, he speaks almost contemptuously, as if he would not honor it with the title of God's commandment, which in reality it is, according to his own admission later on that its deliverance to Moses and its injunction upon the children of Israel was an occasion of surpassing glory. 24. Why does Paul choose this method? Is it right for one to despise or dishonor God's Law? Is not a chaste and honorable life a matter of beauty and godliness? Such facts, it may be contended, are implanted by God in reason itself, and all books teach them; they are the governing force in the world. I reply: Paul's chief concern is to defeat the vainglory and pretensions of false preachers, and to teach them the right conception and appreciation of the Gospel which he proclaimed. What Paul means is this: When the Jews vaunt their Law of Moses, which was received as Law from God and recorded upon two tables of stone; when they vaunt their learned and saintly preachers of the Law and its exponents, and hold their deeds and manner of life up to admiration, what is all that compared to the Gospel message? The claim may be well made: a fine sermon, a splendid exposition; but, after all, nothing more comes of it than precepts, expositions, written comments. The precept, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself," remains a mere array of words. When much time and effort have been spent in conforming one's life to it, nothing has been accomplished. You have pods without peas, husks without kernels. 25. For it is impossible to keep the Law without Christ, though man may, for the sake of honor or property, or from fear of punishment, feign outward holiness. The heart which does not discern God's grace in Christ cannot turn to God nor trust in him; it cannot love his commandments and delight in them, but rather resists them. For nature rebels at compulsion. No man likes to be a captive in chains. One does not voluntarily bow to the rod of punishment or submit to the executioner's sword; rather, because of these things, his anger against the Law is but increased, and he ever thinks: "Would that I might unhindered steal, rob, hoard, gratify my lust, and so on!" And when restrained by force, he would there were no Law and no God. And this is the case where conduct shows some effects of discipline, in that the outer man has been subjected to the teaching of the Law. 26. But in a far more appalling degree does inward rebellion ensue when the heart feels the full force of the Law; when, standing before God's judgment, it feels the sentence of condemnation; as we shall presently hear, for the apostle says "the letter killeth." Then the truly hard knots appear. Human nature fumes and rages against the Law; offenses appear in the heart, the fruit of hate and enmity against the Law; and presently human nature flees before God and is incensed at God's judgment. It begins to question the equity of his dealings, to ask if he is a just God. Influenced by such thoughts, it falls ever deeper into doubt, it murmurs and chafes, until finally, unless the Gospel comes to the rescue, it utterly despairs, as did Judas, and Saul, and perhaps pass out of this life with God and creation. This is what Paul means when he says (Rom 7, 8-9) that the Law works sin in the heart of man, and sin works death, or kills. 27. You see, then, why the Law is called "the letter": though noble doctrine, it remains on the surface; it does not enter the heart as a vital force which begets obedience. Such is the baseness of human nature, it will not and cannot conform to the Law; and so corrupt is mankind, there is no individual who does not violate all God's commandments in spite of daily hearing the preached Word and having held up to view God's wrath and eternal condemnation. Indeed, the harder pressed man is, the more furiously he storms against the Law. 28. The substance of the matter is this: When all the commandments have been put together, when their message receives every particle of praise to which it is entitled, it is still a mere letter. That is, teaching not put into practice. By "letter" is signified all manner of law, doctrine and message, which goes no farther than the oral or written word, which consists only of the powerless letter. To illustrate: A law promulgated by a prince or the authorities of a city, if not enforced, remains merely an open letter, which makes a demand indeed, but ineffectually. Similarly, God's Law, although a teaching of supreme authority and the eternal will of God, must suffer itself to become a mere empty letter or husk. Without a quickening heart, and devoid of fruit, the Law is powerless to effect life and salvation. It may well be called a veritable table of omissions (Lass-tafel); that is, it is a written enumeration, not of duties performed but of duties cast aside. In the languages of the world, it is a royal edict which remains unobserved and unperformed. In this light St. Augustine understood the Law. He says, commenting on Psalm 17, "What is Law without grace but a letter without spirit?" Human nature, without the aid of Christ and his grace, cannot keep it. 29. Again, Paul in terming the Gospel a "ministration of the spirit" would call attention to its power to produce in the hearts of men an effect wholly different from that of the Law: it is accompanied by the Holy Spirit and it creates a new heart. Man, driven into fear and anxiety by the preaching of the Law, hears this Gospel message, which, instead of reminding him of God's demands, tells him what God has done for him. It points not to man's works, but to the works of Christ, and bids him confidently believe that for the sake of his Son God will forgive his sins and accept him as his child. And this message, when received in faith, immediately cheers and comforts the heart. The heart will no longer flee from God; rather it turns to him. Finding grace with God and experiencing his mercy, the heart feels drawn to him. It commences to call upon him and to treat and revere him as its beloved God. In proportion as such faith and solace grow, also love for the commandments will grow and obedience to them will be man's delight. Therefore, God would have his Gospel message urged unceasingly as the means of awakening man's heart to discern his state and recall the great grace and lovingkindness of God, with the result that the power of the Holy Spirit is increased constantly. Note, no influence of the Law, no work of man is present here. The force is a new and heavenly one--the power of the Holy Spirit. He impresses upon the heart Christ and his works, making of it a true book which does not consist in the tracery of mere letters and words, but in true life and action. 30. God promised of old, in Joel 2, 28 and other passages, to give the Spirit through the new message, the Gospel. And he has verified his promise by public manifestations in connection with the preaching of that Gospel, as on the day of Pentecost and again later. When the apostles, Peter and others, began to preach, the Holy Spirit descended visibly from heaven upon their hearts. Acts 8, 17; 10, 44. Up to that time, throughout the period the Law was preached, no one had heard or seen such manifestation. The fact could not but be grasped that this was a vastly different message from that of the Law when such mighty results followed in its train. And yet its substance was no more than what Paul declared (Acts 13, 38-39): "Through this man is proclaimed unto you remission of sins: and by him every one that believeth is justified from all things, from which ye could not be justified by the law of Moses." 31. In this teaching you see no more the empty letters, the valueless husks or shells, of the Law, which unceasingly enjoins, "This thou shalt do and observe," and ever in vain. You see instead the true kernel and power which confers Christ and the fullness of His Spirit. In consequence, men heartily believe the message of the Gospel and enjoy its riches. They are accounted as having fulfilled the Ten Commandments. John says (Jn 1, 16-17): "Of his fullness we all received, and grace for grace. For the Law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ." John's thought is: The Law has indeed been given by Moses, but what avails that fact? To be sure, it is a noble doctrine and portrays a beautiful and instructive picture of man's duty to God and all mankind; it is really excellent as to the letter. Yet it remains empty; it does not enter into the heart. Therefore it is called "law," nor can it become aught else, so long as nothing more is given. CHRIST SUPERSEDES MOSES. Before there can be fulfilment, another than Moses must come, bringing another doctrine. Instead of a law enjoined, there must be grace and truth revealed. For to enjoin a command and to embody the truth[2] are two different things; just as teaching and doing differ. Moses, it is true, teaches the doctrine of the Law, so far as exposition is concerned, but he can neither fulfil it himself nor give others the ability to do so. That it might be fulfilled, God's Son had to come with his fullness; he has fulfilled the Law for himself and it is he who communicates to our empty heart the power to attain to the same fullness. [Footnote 2: Es ist zweirlei, Gesetz geben, und, Wahrheit werden.] This becomes possible when we receive grace for grace, that is, when we come to the enjoyment of Christ, and for the sake of him who enjoys with God fullness of grace, although our own obedience to the Law is still imperfect. Being possessed of solace and grace, we receive by his power the Holy Spirit also, so that, instead of harboring mere empty letters within us, we come to the truth and begin to fulfil God's Law, in such a way, however, that we draw from his fullness and drink from that as a fountain. CHRIST THE SOURCE OF LIFE GREATER THAN ADAM THE SOURCE OF DEATH. 32. Paul gives us the same thought in Romans 5, 17-18, where he compares Adam and Christ. Adam, he says, by his disobedience in Paradise, became the source of sin and death in the world; by the sin of this one man, condemnation passed upon all men. But on the other hand, Christ, by his obedience and righteousness, has become for us the abundant source wherefrom all may obtain righteousness and the power of obedience. And with respect to the latter source, it is far richer and more abundant than the former. While by the single sin of one man, sin and death passed upon all men, to wax still more powerful with the advent of the Law, of such surpassing strength and greatness, on the other hand, is the grace and bounty which we have in Christ that it not only washes away the particular sin of the one man Adam, which, until Christ came, overwhelmed all men in death, but overwhelms and blots out all sin whatever. Thus they who receive his fullness of grace and bounty unto righteousness are, according to Paul, lords of life through Jesus Christ alone. THE LAW INEFFECTUAL. 33. You see now how the two messages differ, and why Paul exalts the one, the preaching of the Gospel, and calls it a "ministration of the spirit," but terms the other, the Law, a mere empty "letter." His object is to humble the pride of the false apostles and preachers which they felt in their Judaism and the law of Moses, telling the people with bold pretensions: "Beloved, let Paul preach what he will, he cannot overthrow Moses, who on Mount Sinai received the Law, God's irrevocable command, obedience to which is ever the only way to salvation." 34. Similarly today, Papists, Anabaptists and other sects make outcry: "What mean you by preaching so much about faith and Christ? Are the people thereby made better? Surely works are essential." Arguments of this character have indeed a semblance of merit, but, when examined by the light of truth, are mere empty, worthless twaddle. For if deeds, or works, are to be considered, there are the Ten Commandments; we teach and practice these as well as they. The Commandments would answer the purpose indeed--if one could preach them so effectively as to compel their fulfilment. But the question is, whether what is preached is also practiced. Is there something more than mere words--or letters, as Paul says? do the words result in life and spirit? This message we have in common; unquestionably, one must teach the Ten Commandments, and, what is more, live them. But we charge that they are not observed. Therefore something else is requisite in order to render obedience to them possible. When Moses and the Law are made to say: "You should do thus; God demands this of you," what does it profit? Ay, beloved Moses, I hear that plainly, and it is certainly a righteous command; but pray tell me whence shall I obtain ability to do what, alas, I never have done nor can do? It is not easy to spend money from an empty pocket, or to drink from an empty can. If I am to pay my debt, or to quench my thirst, tell me how first to fill pocket or can. But upon this point such prattlers are silent; they but continue to drive and plague with the Law, let the people stick to their sins, and make merry of them to their own hurt. 35. In this light Paul here portrays the false apostles and like pernicious schismatics, who make great boasts of having a clearer understanding and of knowing much better what to teach than is the case with true preachers of the Gospel. And when they do their very best, when they pretend great things, and do wonders with their preaching, there is naught but the mere empty "letter." Indeed, their message falls far short of Moses. Moses was a noble preacher, truly, and wrought greater things than any of them may do. Nevertheless, the doctrine of the Law could do no more than remain a letter, an Old Testament, and God had to ordain a different doctrine, a New Testament, which should impart the "spirit." "It is the letter," says Paul, "which we preach. If any glorying is to be done, we can glory in better things and make the defiant plea that they are not the only teachers of what ought to be done, incapable as they are of carrying out their own precepts. We give direction and power as to performing and living those precepts. For this reason our message is not called the Old Testament, or the message of the dead letter, but that of the New Testament and of the living Spirit." 36. No seditious spirit, it is certain, ever carries out its own precepts, nor will he ever be capable of doing so, though he may loudly boast the Spirit alone as his guide. Of this fact you may rest assured. For such individuals know nothing more than the doctrine of works--nor can they rise higher and point you to anything else. They may indeed speak of Christ, but it is only to hold him up as an example of patience in suffering. In short, there can be no New Testament preached if the doctrine of faith in Christ be left out; the spirit cannot enter into the heart, but all teaching, endeavor, reflection, works and power remain mere "letters," devoid of grace, truth, and life. Without Christ the heart remains unchanged and unrenewed. It has no more power to fulfil the Law than the book in which the Ten Commandments are written, or the stones upon which engraved. "For the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life." 37. Here is yet stronger condemnation of the glory of the doctrine of the Law; yet higher exaltation of the Gospel ministry. Is the apostle overbold in that he dares thus to assail the Law and say: "The Law is not only a lifeless letter, but qualified merely to kill"? Surely that is not calling the Law a good and profitable message, but one altogether harmful. Who, unless he would be a cursed heretic in the eyes of the world and invite execution as a blasphemer, would dare to speak thus, except Paul himself? Even Paul must praise the Law, which is God's command, declaring it good and not to be despised nor in any way modified, but to be confirmed and fulfilled so completely, as Christ says (Mt 5, 18), that not a tittle of it shall pass away. How, then, does Paul come to speak so disparagingly, even abusively, of the Law, actually presenting it as veritable death and poison? Well, his is a sublime doctrine, one that reason does not understand. The world, particularly they who would be called holy and godly, cannot tolerate it at all; for it amounts to nothing short of pronouncing all our works, however precious, mere death and poison. 38. Paul's purpose is to bring about the complete overthrow of the boast of the false teachers and hypocrites, and to reveal the weakness of their doctrine, showing how little it effects even at its best, since it offers only the Law, Christ remaining unproclaimed and unknown. They say in terms of vainglorious eloquence that if a man diligently keep the commandments and do many good works, he shall be saved. But theirs are only vain words, a pernicious doctrine. This fact is eventually learned by him who, having heard no other doctrine, trusts in their false one. He finds out that it holds neither comfort nor power of life, but only doubt and anxiety, followed by death and destruction. TERRORS OF THE LAW. 39. When man, conscious of his failure to keep God's command, is constantly urged by the Law to make payment of his debt and confronted with nothing but the terrible wrath of God and eternal condemnation, he cannot but sink into despair over his sins. Such is the inevitable consequence where the Law alone is taught with a view to attaining heaven thereby. The vanity of such trust in works is illustrated in the case of the noted hermit mentioned in Vitæ Patrum (Lives of the Fathers). For over seventy years this hermit had led a life of utmost austerity, and had many followers. When the hour of death came he began to tremble, and for three days was in a state of agony. His disciples came to comfort him, exhorting him to die in peace since he had led so holy a life. But he replied: "Alas, I truly have all my life served Christ and lived austerely; but God's judgment greatly differs from that of men." 40. Note, this worthy man, despite the holiness of his life, has no acquaintance with any article but that of the divine judgment according to the Law. He knows not the comfort of Christ's Gospel. After a long life spent in the attempt to keep God's commandments and secure salvation, the Law now slays him through his own works. He is compelled to exclaim: "Alas, who knows how God will look upon my efforts? Who may stand before him?" That means, to forfeit heaven through the verdict of his own conscience. The work he has wrought and his holiness of life avail nothing. They merely push him deeper into death, since he is without the solace of the Gospel, while others, such as the thief on the cross and the publican, grasp the comfort of the Gospel, the forgiveness of sins in Christ. Thus sin is conquered; they escape the sentence of the Law, and pass through death into life eternal. EFFICACY OF THE GOSPEL. 41. Now the meaning of the contrasting clause, "the spirit giveth life," becomes clear. The reference is to naught else but the holy Gospel, a message of healing and salvation; a precious, comforting word. It comforts and refreshes the sad heart. It wrests it out of the jaws of death and hell, as it were, and transports it to the certain hope of eternal life, through faith in Christ. When the last hour comes to the believer, and death and God's judgment appear before his eyes, he does not base his comfort upon his works. Even though he may have lived the holiest life possible, he says with Paul (1 Cor 4, 4): "I know nothing against myself, yet am I not hereby justified." 42. These words imply being ill pleased with self, with the whole life; indeed, even the putting to death of self. Though the heart says, "By my works I am neither made righteous nor saved," which is practically admitting oneself to be worthy of death and condemnation, the Spirit extricates from despair, through the Gospel faith, which confesses, as did St. Bernard in the hour of death: "Dear Lord Jesus, I am aware that my life at its best has been but worthy of condemnation, but I trust in the fact that thou hast died for me and hast sprinkled me with blood from thy holy wounds. For I have been baptized in thy name and have given heed to thy Word whereby thou hast called me, awarded me grace and life, and bidden me believe. In this assurance will I pass out of life; not in uncertainty and anxiety, thinking, Who knows what sentence God in heaven will pass upon me?" The Christian must not utter such a question. The sentence against his life and works has long since been passed by the Law. Therefore, he must confess himself guilty and condemned. But he lives by the gracious judgment of God declared from heaven, whereby the sentence of the Law is overruled and reversed. It is this: "He that believeth on the Son hath eternal life." Jn 3, 36. 43. When the consolation of the Gospel has once been received and it has wrested the heart from death and the terrors of hell, the Spirit's influence is felt. By its power God's Law begins to live in man's heart; he loves it, delights in it and enters upon its fulfilment. Thus eternal life begins here, being continued forever and perfected in the life to come. 44. Now you see how much more glorious, how much better, is the doctrine of the apostles--the New Testament--than the doctrine of those who preach merely great works and holiness without Christ. We should see in this fact an incentive to hear the Gospel with gladness. We ought joyfully to thank God for it when we learn how it has power to bring to men life and eternal salvation, and when it gives us assurance that the Holy Spirit accompanies it and is imparted to believers. "But if the ministration of death, written, and engraven on stones, came with glory, so that the children of Israel could not look stedfastly upon the face of Moses for the glory of his face; which glory was passing away: how shall not rather the ministration of the Spirit be with glory? For if the ministration of condemnation hath glory, much rather doth the ministration of righteousness exceed in glory." GLORY OF THE GOSPEL. 45. Paul is in an ecstasy of delight, and his heart overflows in words of praise for the Gospel. Again he handles the Law severely, calling it a ministration, or doctrine, of death and condemnation. What term significant of greater abomination could he apply to God's Law than to call it a doctrine of death and hell? And again (Gal 2, 17), he calls it a "minister (or preacher) of sin;" and (Gal 3, 10) the message which proclaims a curse, saying, "As many as are of the works of the law are under a curse." Absolute, then, is the conclusion that Law and works are powerless to justify before God; for how can a doctrine proclaiming only sin, death and condemnation justify and save? 46. Paul is compelled to speak thus, as we said above because of the infamous presumption of both teachers and pupils, in that they permit flesh and blood to coquet with the Law, and make their own works which they bring before God their boast. Yet, nothing is effected but self-deception and destruction. For, when the Law is viewed in its true light, when its "glory," as Paul has it, is revealed, it is found to do nothing more than to kill man and sink him into condemnation. 47. Therefore, the Christian will do well to learn this text of Paul and have an armor against the boasting of false teachers, and the torments and trials of the devil when he urges the Law and induces men to seek righteousness in their own works, tormenting their heart with the thought that salvation is dependent upon the achievements of the individual. The Christian will do well to learn this text, I say, so that in such conflicts he may take the devil's own sword, saying: "Why dost thou annoy me with talk of the Law and my works? What is the Law after all, however much you may preach it to me, but that which makes me feel the weight of sin, death and condemnation? Why should I seek therein righteousness before God?" 48. When Paul speaks of the "glory of the Law," of which the Jewish teachers of work-righteousness boast, he has reference to the things narrated in the twentieth and thirty-fourth chapters of Exodus--how, when the Law was given, God descended in majesty and glory from heaven, and there were thunderings and lightnings, and the mountain was encircled with fire; and how when Moses returned from the mountain, bringing the Law, his face shone with a glory so dazzling that the people could not look upon his face and he was obliged to veil it. 49. Turning their glory against them, Paul says: "Truly, we do not deny the glory; splendor and majesty were there; but what does such glory do but compel souls to flee before God, and drive into death and hell?" We believers, however, boast another glory,--that of our ministration. The Gospel record tells us (Mt 17, 2-4) that Christ clearly revealed such glory to his disciples when his face shone as the sun, and Moses and Elijah were present. Before the manifestation of such glory, the disciples did not flee; they beheld with amazed joy and said: "Lord, it is good for us to be here. We will make here tabernacles for thee and for Moses," etc. 50. Compare the two scenes and you will understand plainly the import of Paul's words here. As before said, this is the substance of his meaning: "The Law produces naught but terror and death when it dazzles the heart with its glory and stands revealed in its true nature. On the other hand, the Gospel yields comfort and joy." But to explain in detail the signification of the veiled face of Moses, and of his shining uncovered face, would take too long to enter upon here. 51. There is also especial comfort to be derived from Paul's assertion that the "ministration," or doctrine, of the Law "passeth away"; for otherwise there would be naught but eternal condemnation. The doctrine of the Law "passes away" when the preaching of the Gospel of Christ finds place. To Christ, Moses shall yield, that he alone may hold sway. Moses shall not terrify the conscience of the believer. When, perceiving the glory of Moses, the conscience trembles and despairs before God's wrath, then it is time for Christ's glory to shine with its gracious, comforting light into the heart. Then can the heart endure Moses and Elijah. For the glory of the Law, or the unveiled face of Moses, shall shine only until man is humbled and driven to desire the blessed countenance of Christ. If you come to Christ, you shall no longer hear Moses to your fright and terror; you shall hear him as one who remains servant to the Lord Christ, leaving the solace and the joy of his countenance unobscured. In conclusion: "For verily that which hath been made glorious hath not been made glorious in this respect, by reason of the glory that surpasseth." 52. The meaning here is: When the glory and holiness of Christ, revealed through the preaching of the Gospel, is rightly perceived, then the glory of the Law--which is but a feeble and transitory glory--is seen to be not really glorious. It is mere dark clouds in contrast to the light of Christ shining to lead us out of sin, death and hell unto God and eternal life. _Thirteenth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Galatians 3, 15-22. 15 Brethren, I speak after the manner of men: Though it be but a man's covenant, yet when it hath been confirmed, no one maketh it void, or addeth thereto. 16 Now to Abraham were the promises spoken, and to his seed. He saith not, And to seeds, as of many; but as of one, And to thy seed, which is Christ. 17 Now this I say: A covenant confirmed beforehand by God, the law, which came four hundred and thirty years after, doth not disannul, so as to make the promise of none effect. 18 For if the inheritance is of the law, it is no more of promise: but God hath granted it to Abraham by promise. 19 What then is the law? It was added because of transgressions, till the seed should come to whom the promise hath been made; and it was ordained through angels by the hand of a mediator. 20 Now a mediator is not a mediator of one; but God is one. 21 Is the law then against the promises of God? God forbid: for if there had been a law given which could make alive, verily righteousness would have been of the law. 22 But the scripture shut up all things under sin, that the promise by faith in Jesus Christ might be given to them that believe. GOD'S TESTAMENT AND PROMISE IN CHRIST. 1. This is a keen, severe epistle, one that is unintelligible to the ordinary man. Because the doctrine it contains has not hitherto been employed and enforced, it has not been understood. It is also too long and rich to be treated briefly. But it is fully explained in the complete commentary on this epistle to the Galatians, where those who will may read it. The substance of it is, that here, as in the whole epistle, Paul would earnestly constrain the Christian to distinguish between the righteousness of faith and the righteousness of works or of the Law. In order that we may note to some extent the main points Paul makes in this text, we remark that he emphasizes two things. He treats first of the doctrine that we are justified by faith alone, and he maintains this, after giving many reasons and proofs, by saying in effect: 2. In this connection you should note that no one, whether Jew or gentile, is justified by works or by the Law. For the Law was given four hundred and thirty years after the promise of a Savior had been made to Abraham (who was to be the father of all the people of God) and the assurance that all nations should be blessed in him. It was given after it had been testified of Abraham that his faith was imputed to him for righteousness. And as he was justified and received the blessing by reason of his faith, so also his children and descendants were justified and received the blessing through the same faith in that seed for whose sake the blessing had been promised to all the world. For in his dealings with the Jews and with the whole world, God always promised his grace and the forgiveness of sins (and that means to be blessed of God) even when there was as yet no Law by which they might pretend to become righteous, and before Moses was born. 3. Therefore the Law, being given to this people only after the lapse of so long a period, could not have been given to them for justification; otherwise it would have been given earlier. Or if it had been necessary for righteousness, then Abraham and his children up to that date could not have been justified at all. Indeed God designed that the Law should be given so long after Abraham. Undoubtedly he would have been able to give it to the fathers much earlier if he had seen fit to do so. Apparently he desired thereby to teach that the Law was not given to the end that God's grace and blessing should be acquired through it, but that these come from the pure mercy of God which was promised and bestowed so long before upon Abraham and those who believed. 4. Therefore Paul concludes: How could the Law produce righteousness for those who lived before Moses, since Moses was the first through whom the Law was given; and since even before his time there were holy people and people who were saved? Whence did they derive their righteousness? Certainly not from the fact that they had offered sacrifice at Jerusalem, but from the fact that they believed the Word in which God promised to bless them through the coming seed, Christ. Hence, those also who lived afterwards could not have been justified by the Law; for they did not receive the grace of God in a different way from that in which those who went before had received it. God did not annul or revoke by the Law the promise of blessing which he had made and freely bestowed without the Law. 5. Here some might desire to show their wisdom and say to Paul: Although the fathers did not have the Law of Moses, they had the same Word of God which teaches the ten commandments and which was implanted in the human heart from the beginning of the world, whence also it is called the law of nature or the natural law; and the same law was afterwards given publicly to the Jewish people and comprehended in the ten commandments. It might also be said that Moses borrowed the ten commandments from the fathers, to which Christ testifies in John 7, 22. For it is certain that the fathers from the beginning taught them and urged them upon their children and descendants. With what consistency, then, does Paul conclude that the fathers were not justified by the Law because it was not given until four hundred years after Abraham's time; as if the fathers before that time had no Law? 6. To answer this question we must observe the meaning and purpose of Paul's words; for he so speaks because of the boasting of the Jews, who placed their dependence on the Law and claimed that it was given to them that they might be God's people. They considered their attempts at keeping his Law, sufficient to procure justification. Why else did God give the Law, they said, and distinguish us from all heathen peoples, if we were not thereby to be preëminent before God and more pleasing to him than they who have it not? They made so much of this boasting that they paid no respect at all to the promise of blessing in the coming seed, given to the fathers, nor thought that faith therein was necessary to their justification. Thus they practically considered it as annulled and made void, excepting for a temporal interpretation which they put upon it--that the Messiah would come and, because of their Law and piety, give to them the dominion of the world and other great rewards. THE JEWS GOD'S PEOPLE BY PROMISE. 7. To rout such vain delusions and boasts, and to show that the Jews were not justified through the Law and did not become God's children thereby, Paul cites the fact that the holy patriarchs, their fathers, were justified neither by the Law of which they boast, because it was not yet given, nor by their own deeds, whether of the natural law or the ten commandments. God had based no promise of blessing or salvation on their works. He had promised out of pure grace to give them the blessing freely (that is, to give them grace or righteousness and all eternal blessing), through the coming seed, which had been promised also to our first parents without their merit, when by their transgression they had fallen under God's wrath and condemnation. Therefore, although the fathers had a knowledge of the Law, or God's commandments, these did not help them to become righteous before God. They had to hear and apprehend by faith the promise of God, which was based not on works but only on the coming seed. For if they had been able by means of the Law or of good works to become righteous, it would have been wholly unnecessary to give the promise of blessing in Christ. 8. Now, if Abraham and the fathers could not be justified by works, and in fact were not justified by them, no more were their children and descendants justified by the Law or by works. They were justified in no other way than by faith in the promise given to Abraham and to his seed, a promise by which not only the Jews but all the heathen (through the same faith) were blessed. 9. This truth Paul now further enforces and establishes on the basis of these two particulars--God's promise, and his free grace or gift--in opposition to the boasting of the Law and our own merit. First, he makes a declaration concerning the value and weight which every testament or promise of the last will possesses. Likewise in the fourth commandment is implied an ordinance that the last will of parents should be honored by their children and heirs. 10. In regard to this subject he asserts that the rule is, if a man's testament be confirmed (and it is confirmed by his death) no man dare alter it nor add to it nor take away from it. So the jurists declare it to be a divine law that no one should break a man's last will. How much more then should God's testament be honored intact? Now, God has made a testament, which is to be his final last will; namely, that he will bless all nations through the seed which at first he promised to the fathers. This he determined upon, and assured to Abraham, and in him to all the world--to us all. And he has confirmed it by the death of this seed, his only Son, who had to become man and die (as was typified by the sacrifice of Isaac on the part of Abraham) in order that the inheritance of the blessing and eternal life might be bestowed upon us. This is God's last will. He does not desire to make any other. Therefore, no man can or dare change it or add anything to it. Now, it is adding to it, it is breaking or revoking it--since this testament has been opened and the blessing proclaimed to all the world--if anyone claims that we must first earn that blessing through the Law, proceeding as if, without the Law, this testament, by mere virtue of its promise and will, had no force at all. 11. In short, this testament, Paul concludes, is a simple promise of blessing and sonship with God. Accordingly, there is no law which we must keep in order to merit it. Here nothing avails but the will which promises saying, I will not regard your deeds, but promise the blessing--that is, grace and eternal life--to you who are found in sin and death. This I will confirm by the death of my Son, who shall merit and obtain this inheritance for you. Now, God made this testament in the first place without the Law, and has thus confirmed it; therefore, the Law, published and confirmed long afterwards, cannot take aught from it, much less annul or revoke it. And he who declares or teaches that we are to be justified by the Law--are to obtain God's blessing by it--does nothing else but interfere with God's testament and destroy and annul his last will. This is one argument of Paul, based on the word "promise," or "testament," and is readily understood; for no one is so stupid that he cannot distinguish between these two--law or commandment, and promise. 12. The second argument of Paul is based on the words, "God gave it to Abraham by promise." Here also it is easy for one who is possessed of common sense to perceive there is a marked difference between receiving something as a gift and earning it. What is earned is given because of obligation and debt, as wages, and he who receives it may boast of it, rather than he who gives it, and may insist upon his right. But when something is given for nothing and, as Paul here says, is bestowed freely--out of grace--then there can be no boasting of right or of merit on the part of the recipient. On the contrary, he must praise the goodness and kindness of his benefactor. So Paul concludes: God freely gave the blessing and the inheritance to Abraham by promise. Therefore, Abraham did not earn it by his works; nor was it given to him as a reward, much less to his children. 13. It is evident enough to even a child that what is earned by works as a reward is not identical with what is promised or bestowed gratis, out of grace and pure free will. There is a distinction between them. God has stopped the mouth of all the world and deprived it of all occasion for boasting that it has received God's grace by reason of the Law. For he promised and bestowed that as a gift, before the Law or merit through the Law had any existence. In his dealings with his own people, with Abraham and his descendants, God promised to bless the patriarch and all his race and said nothing of any law, works or reward; he based all solely on the coming seed. 14. In the faith of this promise they lived and died--Abraham himself and his children's children--till over four hundred and thirty years had elapsed. Then only did God give the Law, institute an outward form of worship, a priesthood, etc., and direct them how to live and govern themselves. They had now become a separate people, released from foreign domination, and brought into their own land, and they needed an external form of government. It was not intended that only now and by means of these gifts they should obtain forgiveness of sins and God's blessing. 15. This is the substance of the first part of this epistle. In teaching how we are to be justified before God, Paul would have us distinguish well these two points, promise and law; or again, gift and reward. If we teach that God, out of pure grace, and not because of any law or merit, bestows forgiveness of sins and eternal life, the question at once presents itself: Why is the Law given, or of what use is it? Shall we not perform any good works? Why do we teach the ten commandments at all? Paul takes up this matter and asks the question, "What then is the Law?" Then he proceeds to discuss at length what is the office and use of the Law, and shows the difference between it and the Gospel. Of this enough has been said elsewhere, in other postils. _Fourteenth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Galatians 5, 16-24. 16 But I say, Walk by the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh. 17 For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; for these are contrary the one to the other; that ye may not do the things that ye would. 18 But if ye are led by the Spirit, ye are not under the law. 19 Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, 20 idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousies, wraths, factions, divisions, parties, 21 envyings, drunkenness, revellings, and such like; of which I forewarn you, even as I did forewarn you, that they who practise such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God. 22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 meekness, self-control; against such there is no law. 24 And they that are of Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with the passions and the lusts thereof. WORKS OF THE FLESH AND FRUITS OF THE SPIRIT. This Epistle has been treated at length in the complete commentary (Luther's Commentary on Galatians). It exhorts to good works or fruits of faith in those who have the Holy Spirit through faith. And it does so in a way to show that it is not the design of this doctrine to forbid good works or to tolerate and refrain from censuring bad ones, or to prevent the preaching of the Law. On the contrary it shows clearly that God earnestly wills that Christians should flee and avoid the lusts of the flesh, if they would remain in the Spirit. To have and retain the Spirit and faith, and yet to fulfil the lusts of the flesh, are two things that cannot harmonize; for "these," Paul says, "are contrary the one to the other," and there is between them a vehement conflict. They cannot tolerate each other; one must be supreme and cast the other out. For this reason he clearly mentions some works of the flesh which plainly and evidently are not of the Spirit, and immediately concludes that those who commit and practice these are not in a condition to inherit God's kingdom. They have lost the Holy Spirit and faith. But he also shows whence the Christians obtain strength to enable them to resist the lusts of the flesh; namely, from the fact that they have received the Holy Spirit through faith, and from the knowledge that they have a gracious God. Thus their hearts become filled with love and a desire to obey God and to shun sin. Consequently they resist and refuse to obey the lusts of the flesh, lest they make God angry again. And although in this conflict they still feel their weakness, the Law nevertheless cannot condemn them, because through faith they are and remain in Christ. _Fifteenth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Galatians 5, 25-26 and 6, 1-10. 25 If we live by the Spirit, by the Spirit let us also walk. 26 Let us not become vainglorious, provoking one another, envying one another. 1 Brethren, even if a man be overtaken in any trespass, ye who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; looking to thyself, lest thou also be tempted. 2 Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ. 3 For if a man thinketh himself to be something when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself. 4 But let each man prove his own work, and then shall he have his glorying in regard of himself alone, and not of his neighbor. 5 For each man shall bear his own burden. 6 But let him that is taught in the word communicate unto him that teacheth in all good things. 7 Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. 8 For he that soweth unto his own flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth unto the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap eternal life. 9 And let us not be weary in well-doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. 10 So then, as we have opportunity, let us work that which is good toward all men, and especially toward them that are of the household of the faith. CHURCH OFFICERS WARNED OF VAIN-GLORY. The chief aim of this epistle text is to instruct those in official authority in the Church. Since Christians are under obligation to honor their pastors and teachers, they are admonished by the apostle to guard against the sin of vain-glory, that those in authority may not become proud nor misuse their office against unity in doctrine and in love, and that they may not despise or pass by the wounded and helpless, as the priest and Levite did. Lk 10, 31-32. Finally, Paul exhorts all diligently to do the good and thus serve everyone, as Christ also teaches in the Gospel (Mt. 6, 34) that everyone should do the work of each day and not be anxious about the future. [See the explanation of these verses in Luther's Commentary on the Galatians.] _Sixteenth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Ephesians 3, 13-21. 13. Wherefore I ask that ye may not faint at my tribulations for you, which are your glory. 14 For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father, 15 from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, 16 and that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, that ye may be strengthened with power through his Spirit in the inward man; 17 that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; to the end that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, 18 may be strong to apprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, 19 and to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge, that ye may be filled unto all the fulness of God. 20 Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, 21 unto him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus unto all generations for ever and ever. Amen. PAUL'S CARE AND PRAYER FOR THE CHURCH.[1] [Footnote 1: This sermon appeared in three editions the first year it was printed in 1525, at Wittenberg.] 1. Up to this time Paul has been extolling the office of the ministry, which proclaims the Gospel of the New Testament. In lofty and impressive terms he introduces its purpose, power and wisdom--in a word, the great benefits the office effects, since God thereby bestows upon us abundantly all manner of wisdom, strength and blessings, all which things, in heaven or earth, are of his dispensing. The Gospel proclaims to us life from death, righteousness from sin, redemption from hell and all evil, and brings us out of the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of God. So sublime is the whole subject, Paul does not venture to compass it with words but in the loftiest of language suggests much. 2. In the first part of the text he shows the depth of his concern that the Ephesians should retain the Gospel preaching received from him, not allowing themselves to be torn away from it. To this end he employs two expedients: first, he consoles and admonishes; second, he prays and desires. "Wherefore I ask that ye may not faint at my tribulations for you, which are your glory." PAUL CONSOLES HIS CONVERTS. 3. Having been imprisoned at Rome by order of the emperor, Paul thus consoles his beloved converts at Ephesus, admonishing them to cleave to the doctrine learned from him; not to be frightened from it by beholding his fate, nor permit themselves to be alienated by such comment as this: "This man Paul in his preaching to you made great pretentions to being commissioned of Christ himself, and to outdoing all the other apostles. And you made your boast in him and relied upon him as if he were the only and all-deserving one. Where is he now? What assistance can he render you? There he lies in Rome, by the Jews condemned to death; more than that, he is in the hands of that cruel tyrant, Emperor Nero. Did we not long ago tell you he would meet such fate? Presumably this puts an end to his boastings over every other man." 4. To prevent the offense that threatened, Paul writes from his prison, and his message is, in effect, this: "Dear friends, you see I am imprisoned; the devil and the world have me in their hands. This may perhaps alarm you, and rouse in you the evil suspicion, 'If his doctrine were all right and if he were the great apostle of Christ he claims to be, God would not permit him to suffer such fate.'" For some of the false apostles thus taunted Paul's disciples. "But I entreat and exhort you," Paul would say, "not to be offended, or alarmed, not to grow faint, though I am in prison. Whether we be tempted and suffer tribulation, whether we be honored or dishonored, no matter what comes, only cleave to the doctrine I have preached to you--the Gospel, God's sure Word, as you know." He reminds them, as before he has done, of that whereunto God has called them, and of what they have received through his preaching. 5. Such admonition is still, and will ever be, necessary in the Christian community. The weak must endure severe conflicts in the tribulations the Gospel inevitably entails. The trial is especially hard when they must lose their leaders and teachers, and in addition hear the shameful, bitter taunts of the calumniators. We in this day have to expect that some will be offended when teachers are assailed. We should therefore be prepared, and when any of our number fall away from our faith to flatter tyrants and the Pope, and to become liars and knaves, we must individually lay hold of the Gospel in a way to enable us to stand and say: "Not because a certain one has so taught, do I believe. It matters not what becomes of him or what he may be, the doctrine itself is right. This I know, whatever God may permit to befall myself or others because of it." THE CHRISTIAN'S CONFIDENCE MUST BE IN GOD. 6. So have I personally had to do, and must still do. Otherwise I would have been terrified and enervated when I saw the Pope, and bishops, emperors, kings and all the world, opposed to the doctrine they ought to sustain. I would have been overwhelmed, thinking, "They, too, are men and cannot all be followers of the devil." How could I comfort myself and stand firm unless I were able to say: "Though ten other worlds and everything great, lofty, wise and prudent, and all my dear friends and brethren as well, should turn from me, the doctrine still remains true. It stands: it will not, like men, totter and fall. I will adhere to the Word of God, stand or fall what may." 7. The Christian must be discerning enough to strip the individual of his mask--of his great pomp and majesty--and distinguish it from the Word. He who cannot so do, cannot stand under temptation; let one fall, and he will soon follow suit. 8. Such is the nature of the Church in its earthly government that human wisdom must stumble thereat; various sects of the offended must rise in opposition to the faith. But God delights to rule, not with the sword or with visible power, but through weakness and in opposition to the devil and the world. Seemingly, he would permit his Church to be utterly overthrown. Guard against and resist offenses as well as we may--and the practice is not without its efficacy--still we must ultimately be driven to say defiantly: "He who established the Church and has to this time preserved it, will continue to protect it. Man would not rule it wisely, but the living Christ is seated upon the throne whereon God placed him, and we shall see who can pull him down and destroy his Church." PAUL'S SUFFERINGS FOR THE CHURCH'S GOOD. 9. When the trying hour arrives, we are able to accomplish about as little against the enemy as Paul when he lay in chains powerless to succor a soul. He was obliged to commit his cause to the Lord. At the same time, as a faithful apostle, he ceased not, though removed from his followers, to admonish and warn to the full extent of his power. Well he knew that many false apostles were ready, so sure as he said a word, to pervert it and to fill the ears of the people with their own empty words and poisonous teaching. He elsewhere complains (2 Tim 1, 15) that by the influence of this class all Asia was turned away from him. He had reference to the nearest neighbors of the Ephesians in Asia. 10. For the sake of affording his converts comfort and strength, Paul proceeds to make his sufferings and tribulations pleasing to them by speaking of these afflictions in unusual and beautiful terms. He presents a view quite opposed to the opinion of the world and the judgment of calumniators. "My sufferings and tribulations," says Paul, "which to you and the world, viewed in a fleshy way, are most disastrous, really work you no injury nor disadvantage, notwithstanding what the pernicious babblers claim about such trials. Rather, they are beneficial to you and me. Though your enemies seek thus to injure you to the fullest extent, benefits they never foresee will accrue to us. "My sufferings are not for my own sake, but yours. They work your benefit; it is better for you as it is, than for me to be present and preach to you. And how so? Because I suffer only for the sake of the ministry, for that Gospel I delivered you. I risk my life and all I have that you may hold it fast; such is my earnest desire. I contend for and cleave to, at the risk of my life, that which Christ gave me and enjoined upon me. Thus by my chains and bands I honor and establish the Gospel, that you may be strengthened and may cleave more firmly to it. 11. "So we shall joyfully transform the tribulation imposed by the world in an attempt to inflict great evils: God will have to pronounce the sentence: 'Hear, O world, devil, emperor, tyrant! Thou hast imprisoned my apostle Paul for the sake of my godly Christians. What injury have they done thee? what fault committed? With no wrong on their part, thou persecutest them. It is simply because I gave them my Word; therefore thou art opposing and defying me. What shall I say but that thou hast imprisoned and bound, not Paul, but me? Is it not insupportable that a perishable worm, be he emperor or prince, should presume to apprehend God in heaven? But thinkest thou I will remain silent and unprotesting? Thinkest thou I will not break chains, stocks and bands, and give command: Hold thou, devil and tyrant, and submit! Let me rule, substituting for one Paul, ten; and for one Church at Ephesus establishing thirty, yes, a hundred.'" 12. And as in Paul's time, so today: when our enemies get hold of an evangelical preacher, either he must secretly be drowned or murdered, or he must publicly be hanged or burned. Why is it? Because of the Christians to whom he has taught his doctrine. For a while God looks on serenely. He says: "Beloved lords, be not enraged. Know you whom you have apprehended and murdered? It is I, the Divine Majesty. It was not their own word and command but mine which these preachers taught and my Christians believed. You cannot deny the fact. I must, then, consider how to secure myself against your wrath. How shall I do it? Indeed, by way of returning your favors and kindnesses, I must so arrange that where one town had a minister and the Gospel, ten, yes twenty, towns must have their pastor and preachers. I will, O Pope and bishops, invade your own dioceses and you must tolerate and accept the Gospel, whether to your joy or your grief. If you begin to rave, I will give you cause for alarm, for you shall be overthrown, bishops, hats and all." 13. Note, when Paul says he suffers for the Ephesians, he means that his suffering is for their profit, to teach them they have nothing to fear in suffering. They, not he, are the subjects of concern in this matter. His pains are not merely those of Paul--upon whom not so much depends--but of an apostle or preacher of the Church of Christ. When the latter name is associated with the suffering, when it is not John or Peter who is cast into prison--that God might tolerate--but a minister of the Church, then the deed is a too gross jesting with the majesty of God; it is tempting him too far, yes apprehending him. 14. It was necessary that Paul give his converts this admonition: "Dear children, fear not. Do not be alarmed at my arrest and intended execution. Let our enemies put forth their utmost effort. You shall see how I will rend the cords and burst the prison, humiliating them until they lie in ashes; the place of one resister of the Gospel will be filled by ten who preach it." CHRIST PERSECUTED IN CHRISTIANS. Since Paul's enemies refuse instruction and will not cease their raging, since they refuse to learn against whom they rage, he must make known to them who is the object of their persecution. It is neither Paul nor an apostle, but he to whom it was said (Ps 110, 1), "Sit thou at my right hand." It is a perilous thing to take liberties with him. He is now seated where he will brook no suffering. The enemies of the Christians must behold such things as did the Jews who delivered Paul into the Emperor's hands, and as the Romans witnessed. Soon after Paul's execution, Jerusalem lay in ashes, and not a great while after, the city of Rome was destroyed. For when Christ was oppressed, when in the person of his apostles and martyrs he was seized and put to death, he had no alternative but to destroy a whole city. And Germany may expect a similar fate. NO MAN CAN MERIT ETERNAL LIFE FOR ANOTHER. 15. It is unnecessary here to reply to those wicked and illiterate dolts, the Papists and Anabaptist factions, who explain Paul's words, "my tribulations for you," and similar passages, as teaching that one Christian can by his sufferings merit or aid in the salvation of others. Paul does not say, "My tribulations for you are designed to secure for you forgiveness of sins and salvation." He clearly declares, as the Scriptures everywhere do, that only Christ's sufferings are thus effective and for all men. Paul's thought may well be expressed--and every minister may say the same--in these words: "My preaching and my suffering are for your sake." Just as a parent may say to a child, "I must do or endure this for you." True, works wrought and sufferings endured for another's sake are productive of the good and comfort of that one or of many, but the worker or sufferer does not thereby merit, either for himself or another, God's grace and eternal life. No, these things demand the offices of a being of another order--Christ. He through his sufferings exterminates your sins, and through his death gives you life. Then again, Paul is addressing those already Christians and having forgiveness of sins and all the requirements of a Christian; yet he suffers for them; that is, for their good--that in proportion as his enemies seek to oppose the Gospel, its influence may be widened and the faith of his followers strengthened. 16. In the effort to comfort and strengthen the Ephesians, Paul yet further glorifies and extols his tribulations in the words "which are your glory." What unheardof talk is this? Is it not much rather, as reason dictates and as all the world affirms, a disgrace to his followers that he lies there in prison? What greater dishonor can Christians suffer than to have their ministers and pastors--their instructors and consolers--shamefully arrested? So it seems to the world, it is true; but I tell you, in God's sight and in reality, this trial is a great honor to you, one of which you may proudly boast. This very disgrace and provocation you may turn squarely to your good, saying: "From the very fact of our disgrace, I know the doctrine is true and divine. For it is the lot of the Word of God and of salutary doctrine, together with the supporters of the same, to be defamed and persecuted by the world and the devil." Such persecution is but glory and honor to Christians. Paul says in Romans 5, 3, "We rejoice in our tribulations." In other words, we regard them as glorious, beneficial, precious, blessed. CHRISTIANS TO REJOICE IN PERSECUTIONS. 17. Christians should not, and cannot, have their glory in the things the world esteems and honors; for the world will not, nor can it, honor even God and his Word. Christ's followers, then, should not be terrified at such treatment as Paul received nor feel disgraced. Let them rather rejoice, deriving comfort and glory therefrom, as did the apostles. We read (Acts 4, 13) of their boldness, and (Acts 5, 41) that they rejoiced in being "counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the Name." So it fared with Christ himself, and Christians ought to be grieved if it be otherwise with them and if the world regard them in a kindly way. In proportion as the world persecutes them and heaps upon them its malice, should they rejoice. Let them accept persecution as a good indication, regarding themselves blessed, as Christ teaches in Matthew 5, 11. So much for the first part of our text; now follows the second: "For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father [of our Lord Jesus Christ], from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named." PREACHING MUST BE FOLLOWED BY PRACTICE. 18. Having comforted his followers concerning his tribulations, Paul tells them it is his earnest petition, his longing, that God would grant them power to cleave in firm faith to the Gospel, not forsaking it or growing weary when they have to endure affronts and tribulations, but firmly resisting these. It is not enough merely to accept the Gospel, or even to preach it. Acceptance must be followed by that spiritual power which renders faith firm and manifests steadfastness in conflicts and temptations; for "the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power," as Paul says, 1 Cor 4, 20. There must be a motive force consisting of the inner belief of the heart and the outward proofs of faith: not mere speaking, but doing: not mere talking, but living. Conditions must be such that the Word does not simply remain on the tongue and in the ears, but becomes operative and accomplishes something. In the Old Testament dispensation, Moses preached much indeed, and the people practiced little; but here Paul desires that much be done and little said. He would not have the Gospel preached in vain, but desires that it accomplish the object of its revelation. 19. Note how Paul devotes himself to the welfare of the Christian community. He sets an example, to us ministers in particular, of how to effect the good of the people. But we do not rightly heed his example. We imagine it sufficient to hear the Gospel and be able to discourse about it; we stop at the mere knowledge of it; we never avail ourselves of the Gospel's power in the struggles of life. Unquestionably, the trouble is, we do not earnestly pray. We ought constantly to come to God with great longing, entreating him day and night to give the Word power to move men's hearts. David says (Ps 68, 33), "Lo, he uttereth his voice, a mighty voice." 20. Not only preachers, but all Christians, should constantly entreat the God who grants knowledge to grant also efficacy; should beseech him that the Word may not pass with the utterance, but may manifest itself in power. The prevailing complaint at present is that much preaching obtains, but no practice; that the people are shamefully rude, cold and indolent, and less active than ever, while at the same time they enjoy the strong, clear light of revelation concerning all right and wrong in the world. Well may we pray, then, as Paul does here. He says, in effect: "You are well supplied: the Word is richly proclaimed to you--abundantly poured out upon you. But I bend my knees to God, praying that he may add his blessing to the Word and grant you to behold his honor and praise and to be firmly established, that the Word may grow in you and yield fruit." 21. Feelingly does Paul speak of praying for his followers. He seems to say: "I must lie here imprisoned, not privileged to be with you or to aid you in any way but by bending my knees--that is, entreating and imploring God earnestly and in deep humility--to the end that God may grant you, may effect in you, what neither myself nor any other human being can accomplish--what I could not do even were I free and ever present with you." TRUE PRAYER CONSISTS NOT IN OUTWARD THINGS. 22. Observe, the apostle alludes to his prayer by naming its outward expression--bending the knees. But the external posture, if accompanied by nothing else, is sheer hypocrisy. When prayer is genuine, possessing the fire by which it is kindled, prompted by a sincere heart which recognizes its need and likewise the blessings that are ours as proclaimed in the Word, and when faith in God's Word--in his promise--revives, then the individual will be possessed with a fervor prompting him to fall upon his knees and pray for strength and for the power of the Spirit. When the Spirit of prayer is enkindled and burns within the heart, the body will responsively assume the proper attitude; involuntarily, eyes and hands will be upraised and knees bended. Witness the examples of Moses, David and even Christ himself. When we pray with glowing hearts, external gestures will take care of themselves. They are prompted by the Spirit, and therefore are not to be denounced. If assumed, unbidden of the Spirit, they are hypocritical; as, for instance, when one presumes outwardly to serve God and perform good works while his heart is far away. The prophet says (Is 29, 13), "This people draw nigh unto me, and with their mouth and with their lips do honor me, but have removed their heart far from me." 23. By the declaration, "I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ," Paul establishes the doctrine that no one should presume to speak to God, to entreat him for any favor, unless approaching, as Paul does here, in the name of "the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ." For Christ is our sole Mediator, and no one need expect to be heard unless he approach the Father in the name of that Mediator and confess him Lord given of God as intercessor for us and ruler of our bodies and souls. Prayer according to these conditions is approved. Strong faith, however, is necessary to lay hold of the comforting Word, picturing God in our hearts as the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. 24. The statement that Christ is our Lord is very comforting, though we have made it terrifying by regarding Christ as a stern and angry judge. But the fact is, he is Lord for the sole purpose of securing us against harsh lords, tyrants, the devil, the world, death, sin and every sort of misfortune. We are his inheritance, and therefore he will espouse our cause, deliver us from violence and oppression of all kinds and better our condition. The name "Lord," then, is altogether lovable and comforting to us who believe, and gives us confidence of heart. But still more comforting is it to know that our God, our Lord, is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. The name "Lord" stands for the complete Godhead, who gives himself to us. Therefore, all we ask in this name must be abundantly bestowed. Naught is here for me but real help and pure grace. For God designs to have me his child in Christ, placed above all things temporal and eternal. GOD OUR FATHER. 25. Paul further declares that God is not merely a father, but the true Father, "from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named." Earthly fathers are so called because in a flesh and blood way they have begotten us, or on account of their age and their claim to honor. It is the universal custom to apply the term "father" to an old master. In Second Kings 5, 13, for instance, the servants of Naaman called their lord "father." Paul's thought is: "All fatherhood on earth is but a semblance, a shadow, a painted image, in comparison with the divine Fatherhood of God." 26. But reason can never see it so. And only by the Spirit's work can the heart recognize the fact. Reason may go so far as to regard God an angry and terrible judge, one who makes the world, even hell itself, too narrow for it and leaves it without a foothold. But it is impossible for natural reason to call God a father in sincerity; much less to regard him the divine Father, preëminent over all who bear the name of "father" in heaven or on earth, of whom all other fathers are as mirror reflections. 27. Think of the attitude of an earthly father toward his child, and of the child toward his father. Even where actual parenthood is lacking, the name engenders a confidence affectionate and pleasing enough to kindle the brightest anticipations of great good to be received. Now, if the sincere, loyal designs of earthly fathers for their children are mere pretense compared to the blessed purposes of our heavenly Father, what must we look for from this heavenly Father, this Father above all others? Paul would teach us to look at the proportions, and from the confidence we repose in our natural fathers estimate the character of God as a Father and what we may expect from him. 28. He who can put his trust in God, who can confidently rely upon him and sincerely cry, "Thou art my beloved Father!" need not fear to ask anything of God, or that God will at all deny him. His own heart will tell him that his petitions will be granted. Because of the strength of his confidence, he cannot fail to secure his heart's desires. Thus God himself teaches us to break open heaven and lay him bare before our eyes that we may see who this Father is. [Thus Paul is confident what he asks is pleasing to God and will be granted. If we did the same we would, doubtless, have a like experience. There are still people who pray. It would be a blessing if there were many more. Then the Gospel would make greater progress and impart to us greater power. It is evident, God be praised, that all who rage against the Gospel must be put to shame. The more they rage, the more the Gospel spreads, and all without our help or counsel, only because God awakens hearts to pray that it may prosper, even without our help. The more fervently we pray, the greater is God's pleasure to hear.] 29. What is the nature of the prayer Paul here presents? It is the same as the Lord's Prayer, being particularly identical with the first, second and third petitions. In words of different sound but implying the very same thing, Paul briefly embraces these petitions--the hallowing of God's name and Word in our midst, and the destruction of the devil's kingdom and all evil--whatever is opposed to the Word and will of God. He says: "That he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, that ye may be strengthened with power." GOD LAVISH IN HIS BLESSINGS. 30. Sublime words are these, wrung from a fervent heart. Evidently, in the effort to express himself fully, clearly and in language worthy of his subject, the apostle finds words too weak and rare. The fervor of his heart can be but poorly portrayed. By the phrase, "according to the riches of his glory," Paul means to say: "Such is the greatness of God's glory, it deserves the title of riches. For it is conducive to God's honor and praise that he gives abundantly." These words reveal the nature of God, proclaiming him the source whence we may expect all good, and all aid in time of need. He is God of all the world. The reason the world has made many gods, has invoked many saints, is because it looks to them for aid and benefit. The Scriptures term "gods" certain individuals who do good and lend assistance to their fellows. God says to Moses (Ex 7, 1), "I have made thee as God [a god] to Pharaoh." 31. But God, because of the abundance and lavishness of his gifts, is entitled to greater honor and glory. He is the true God, to whom alone belongs all glory; yea, the riches of glory. He pours out his blessings abundantly and above measure; he is the source of all blessings in heaven and on earth. Even his most inferior creatures--water, air, the earth and its products--are so generously bestowed that we can appropriate only an infinitesimal part of them. Yet in our blindness and stupidity we do not see, yea, we utterly ignore the fact that God is the giver of these. Now, how much more generous is God in spiritual blessings! He has freely given himself--poured out himself--for us, and also gifts and blessings of the highest order. He has illumined us with a light bright enough to reveal to us the real character of the world, the devil and the angels. Yes, to show to us God's purposes, present, past and future. Thus we have all wisdom and all power over sin, the devil and death, being lords of all creatures. In a word, our riches are inexpressibly great. 32. Paul employs forcible words to record his prayer here. He has firm confidence in God that the petition must be efficacious, must penetrate the clouds and open heaven. He does not say that God looks upon our merit and worthiness and for the sake of these grants our requests; but for the sake of the riches of his glory. We are not worthy his favors, but his glory is worthy of our recognition, and we are to honor him because he gratuitously lavishes his blessings upon us, that his name alone may be hallowed. Only with a recognition of these facts may prayer be offered if it is to avail before God. If God were to consider our merit, very small would be the portion due us. But if we are to be richly blessed, it must come about through our recognition of pure grace as the source of our gifts, and our praise of God's exceeding glory. 33. But what are the blessings for which Paul's prayer entreats? Something more than continuance of the Word with his followers, though it is a great and good gift even to have the Word thoroughly taught: he prays that the heart may taste the Word and that it may be effectual in the life. Thus the apostle contrasts a knowledge of the Word with the power of the Word. Many have the knowledge, but few the impelling and productive power that the results may be as we teach. Hence they are criticised and not without reason. But our enemies cannot censure and reproach us to greater extent than to say that we preach and accept much good doctrine to no purpose; that no one practices it and profits thereby; that in fact we are morally worse than before we heard the doctrines, and consequently it would have been better had things remained as they were. WE SHOULD PRAY FOR THE POWER OF THE WORD. 34. What answer shall we make? This: In the first place, considering our unsatisfactory condition and the lack of power with the Word, we have great reason to pray with the earnestness Paul's example teaches. And secondly, though our enemies see little improvement and few fruits of the Gospel, it is not theirs to judge. They think we ought to do nothing but work miracles--raising the dead and bordering the Christian's walk with roses, until naught but holiness obtains everywhere. This being the case, where would be the need to pray? We cannot, nor dare we, pray for what we already have, but must thank God for it. But, since Paul and other Scripture authorities command us to pray, a defect somewhere in our strength is indicated. Otherwise why say they so much about it? Thus Paul himself acknowledges the Ephesians were weak. He complains of the same weakness in other Epistles and especially in those to the Corinthians. Everywhere he urges them to do and live as they had been taught. The only reason Paul advocates this is that he saw, as we now see, that everywhere they fail, and things are not as they should be. In spite of the fact that not everyone's conduct is satisfactory, some do mend their ways; and the happy condition obtains that many consciences are assured and many former evils are now avoided. If the two sides of the question were carefully compared, we would see much advantage with us not now noticed. Again, even though we are somewhat weak, is that any reason for saying all is lost? Further, there is naught else but filth and corruption in the ranks of our enemies, which they would gladly adorn with our weakness even. But they must look upon their way as excellent and ours as odious. 35. Let them go on with their judging. We admit we are not all strong, but it is also true that were there no weakness in our ranks, we would have no need of prayer, perseverance, exhortation and daily preaching. In condemning the Gospel because of our admitted weakness, something we ourselves confess, our enemies are themselves judged before God by their judging us. It is possible for me to be truly in the kingdom of grace and at the same time outwardly weak enough to be regarded of men as a knave. My faith is not apparent to men, but God sees it and I am myself sensible of it. You meantime erroneously judge me by my outward conduct, thus bringing judgment upon yourself. We are aware of, and also lament, our weakness and imperfection. Hence we cry and groan, and pray to God to grant us strength and power. WORLD SEES NOT INNER MARKS OF CHRISTIANS. 36. A third answer to our enemies is: We are certain that wherever the Word of God is proclaimed, the fruits of the same must exist. We have the Word of God, and therefore the Spirit of God must be with us. And where the Spirit is, faith must obtain, however weak it may be. Though visible evidence may be lacking, yet inevitably there must be some among us who daily pray, while we may not be aware of it. It is reasonably to be expected that our enemies should judge erroneously, because they look for outward evidences of Christianity, which are not forthcoming. The Word is too sublime to pass under our judgment; it is the province of the Word to judge us. The world, however, while unwilling to be judged and convicted by us, essays to judge and convict the Word of God. Here God steps in. It would be a pity for the worldly to see a godly Christian, so God blinds them and they miss his kingdom. As Isaiah says (ch. 26, 10): "In the land of uprightness will he deal wrongfully, and will not behold the majesty of Jehovah." For this reason, few real Christians come under the observation of cavilers; the latter, in general, observe fools and fanatics, at whom they maliciously stumble and take offense. They are unworthy to behold God's honor in a godly Christian upon whom the Lord has poured out himself in fullness of blessing. 37. Let the real Christian come into the presence of the caviler, stand before his very eyes, and the caviler will not see him. Let the fault-finder hear that one leads an irreproachable life and he will say: "Heretics have behaved similarly, but under a good appearance concealed poison." Let one be refractory and reckless, and he must be a knave. Whatever we do, they are not satisfied. If we pipe, they will not dance; if we mourn, they will not lament. Neither sweet nor sour appeals to them. Wisdom must permit herself to be schooled and governed by these cavilers, as Christ says in Matthew 11, 19. Thus God confounds and shames the world; while all the time tolerating its judgment of himself, he is ever careful to have the Gospel inculcated, even though the worldly burst with rage. I say these things to teach us to be careful not to join the caviler in judging presumptuously the work and Word of God. Notwithstanding our weakness, we are yet certain the kingdom of God is in our midst so long as we have his Word and daily pray for its efficacy and for an increase of our faith, as the following words recommend: "That ye may be strengthened with power through his Spirit in the inward man." THE SPIRIT IMPARTS REAL STRENGTH. 38. The apostle here speaks with varied expression. He leaves little honor and glory, as it were, for free-will, but desires for his followers the heavenly power imparted through the Holy Spirit. There is also a power of the world, and a spirit--the devil, the prince of the world, who blinds and hardens men's hearts. He boasts of himself and imparts to men a spirit of daring in his purpose to suppress and exterminate Christian doctrine. But while worldings are courageous and daring, so are Christians, and the latter are greater and far more powerful through the Holy Spirit, and are undaunted by the world, the devil, death and all kinds of misfortune. This is real spiritual strength. The Hebrew word "spirit" might well be rendered "bold, undaunted courage." Spiritual strength is not the strength of muscle and bone; it is true courage--boldness of heart. Weakness, on the contrary, is faint-heartedness, timidity, lack of courage. 39. Paul's meaning, then, is: "I desire for you, and pray God to grant you, that bold, dauntless courage and that strong, cheerful spirit which will not be terrified by poverty, shame, sin, the devil or death, but is confident that nothing can harm us and we will never be in need." The courage of the world--the spirit of the world--holds out only until exhaustion of the stores whereon it relies. As the saying is, "Wealth gives temporal boldness, but the soul must rely on God alone." The boldness resulting from riches and worldly power is haughty and makes its boast in earthly things. But the soul has no hoarded treasure. In God alone it braves every evil; it has a courage and heart very different from that of the world. This is the strength for which Paul prays on behalf of his converts, a strength not inherent in flesh and blood. The possessor thereof does not rely and build on his own powers and riches, nor upon any human help and support. This strength dwells in the inner man. It is the trust of the dauntless, cheerful heart in God's grace and assistance, and in these alone. The heart which so trusts has no fear. It possesses by faith abundance of riches and pleasures--God himself with all his blessings. At the same time, to human sight only want, weakness and terror may be apparent. "That Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith." 40. The Holy Spirit brings Christ into the heart and teaches it to know him. He imparts warmth and courage through faith in Christ. Paul everywhere intimates that no man should presume to approach God otherwise than through Christ, the one Mediator. Now, if Christ dwells in my heart and regulates my entire life, it matters not though my faith be weak. Christ is not mere bone but also flesh. Yes, he has blisters and boils and sins of which he is not ashamed, notwithstanding the eminent saints may hold their noses thereat. And where he dwells all fullness is, let the individual be weak or strong as God permits. CHRIST EMBRACED ONLY BY THE HEART. 41. For Christ to dwell in the heart is simply for the heart to know him; in other words, to understand who he is and what we are to expect from him--that he is our Saviour, through whom we may call God our Father and may receive the Spirit who imparts courage to brave all trials. It is thus that Christ dwells with us, in our hearts. Only so can he be embraced; for he is not an inanimate thing, but the living God. How does man lay hold of the Saviour in the heart? Not by embracing him intellectually. It is accomplished only by living faith. Christ will not permit himself to be received by works, nor to be apprehended with mental vision; he will consent only to be embraced by the heart. If your faith be true and on a firm foundation, you have and feel Christ in your heart and are aware of all he thinks and does in heaven and on earth--how he rules through his Word and his Spirit, and the attitude of those who have Christ and those who have him not. 42. Paul desires Christ to be efficacious in the hearts of his followers unto the full realization of the promises of the Word--liberation from sin and death, and assurance of grace and eternal life. It is impossible for the heart having such experience to be other than firm and courageous to oppose the terrors of the devil and the world. But the heart which has not yet arrived at this point is here advised what course to take, namely, to pray God for such faith and strength, and to avail himself of the prayers of others to the same end. So much in regard to faith; now follows the mention of love. "That ye, being rooted and grounded in love." LOVE, THE EXPRESSION OF FAITH. 43. This is an unusual way of speaking. Is it not in faith that we are to be rooted, engrafted and grounded? Why, then, does Paul here substitute "love?" I reply: Faith, it is true, is the essential thing, but love shows whether or no faith is real and the heart confident and courageous in God. Where one has an unquestioning confidence that God is his Father, necessarily, be his faith never so weak, that faith must find expression in word and deed. He will serve his neighbor in teaching and in extending to him a helping hand. This is what Paul calls being rooted and grounded in love--having the conscious experience of possessing true faith. Love is the test that determines the reality of faith. Peter says (2 Pet 1, 10), "Give the more diligence to make your calling and election sure." That is, proceed to good works that others may see and you experience that you have true faith. Until you do, you will always be uncertain, vacillating, superficial in heart, not rooted and grounded. So by these two clauses Paul teaches, first, that we should have in our hearts genuine faith toward God; and second, that faith should find expression in loving service to one's neighbor. "May be strong to apprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth." TRUE CHRISTIANS FIND CHRIST EVERYWHERE. 44. These words represent another feature of the apostle's desire for his Christians to be established and comforted in God through faith, and rooted and grounded in love toward their neighbors. "When you are thus strengthened," he would say, "and are perseveringly pressing forward, you will be able to grasp with all saints the four parts, to increase therein and to appreciate them more and more." Faith alone effects this apprehension. Love is not the moving force here, but it contributes by making faith manifest. 45. Some teachers would make these words reflect and measure the holy cross. But Paul does not say a word about the cross. He simply says, in effect: "That you may apprehend all things; may see the length and breadth, the height and depth, of Christ's kingdom." This condition obtains when my heart has reached the point where Christ cannot make the spiritual life too long or too wide for me to follow, nor high enough or deep enough to cause my fall from him or his Word; the point where I may be satisfied that wherever I go he is, and that he rules in all places, however long or broad, deep or high, the situation from either a temporal or eternal point of view. No matter how long or wide I measure, I find him everywhere. David says (Ps 139, 7-8): "Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in Sheol, behold, thou art there." Christ rules eternally. His length and breadth, his depth and height, are unlimited. If I descend into hell, my heart and my faith tell me he is there. 46. The sum of the matter is this: Depressed or exalted, circumscribed in whatsoever way, dragged hither or thither, I still find Christ. For he holds in his hands everything in heaven or on earth, and all are subject to him--angels, the devil, the world, sin, death and hell. Therefore, so long as he dwells in my heart, I have courage, wherever I go, I cannot be lost. I dwell where Christ my Lord dwells. This, however, is a situation impossible to reason. Should reason ascend a yard above the earth or descend a yard below, or be deprived of the tangible things of the present, it would have to despair. We Christians are, through Christ, better fortified. We are assured that he dwells everywhere, be it in honor or dishonor, hunger, sorrow, illness, imprisonment, death or life, blessing or affliction. It is Paul's desire for the Ephesians that God give them grace and strength to have such heart-apprehension of his kingdom. He concludes the details of his prayer in these words: "And to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge, that ye may be filled unto all the fulness of God." 47. He means: "I desire you, in addition to having faith and apprehending the four proportions of Christ's kingdom, to know the love of Christ we should have--the love Christ bears toward us, and the love we owe our neighbor. This knowledge transcends all other, even familiarity with the Gospel; for, know as much as you may, your knowledge will avail little or nothing without love." 48. Paul's desire, briefly summed up, is that the faith of Christians may be strengthened unto efficacy, and that love may be warm and fervent, and the heart filled with the fullness of God. "Filled unto all the fullness of God" means, if we follow the Hebrew, filled with everything God's bounty supplies, full of God, adorned with his grace and the gifts of his Spirit--the Spirit who gives us steadfastness, illuminates us with his light, lives within us his life, saves us with his salvation, and with his love enkindles love in us; in short, it means having God himself and all his blessings dwelling in us in fullness and being effective to make us wholly divine--not so that we possess merely something of God, but all his fullness. CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 49. Much has been written about the way we are to become godlike. Some have constructed ladders whereby we are to ascend to heaven, and others similar things. But this is all patchwork. In this passage is designated the truest way to attain godlikeness. It is to become filled to the utmost with God, lacking in no particular; to be completely permeated with him until every word, thought and deed, the whole life in fact, be utterly godly. 50. But let none imagine such fullness can be attained in this life. We may indeed desire it and pray for it, like Paul here, but we will not find a man thus perfect. We stand, however, upon the fact that we desire such perfection and groan after it. So long as we live in the flesh, we are filled with the fullness of Adam. Hence it is necessary for us continually to pray God to replace our weakness with courage, and to put into our hearts his Spirit to fill us with grace and strength and rule and work in us absolutely. We ought all to desire this state for one another. To this end may God grant us grace. Amen. _Seventeenth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Ephesians 4, 1-6. 1 I, therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beseech you to walk worthily of the calling wherewith ye were called, 2 with all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love; 3 giving diligence to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. 4 There is one body, and one Spirit, even as also ye were called in one hope of your calling; 5 one Lord, one faith, one baptism, 6 one God and Father of all, who is over all, and through all, and in all. THE CHRISTIAN CALLING AND UNITY. 1. This, too, is a beautiful sermon, delivered by Paul to the Ephesians, concerning the good works of Christians, who believe and are obedient to the doctrine of the Gospel. In the knowledge of good works Paul desires Christians to grow and increase, as we learned in the epistle for last Sunday. The ground of all doctrine, of all right living, the supreme and eternal treasure of him who is a Christian in the sight of God, is faith in Christ. It alone secures forgiveness of sins and makes us children of God. Now, where this faith is, fruits should follow as evidence that Christians in their lives honor and obey God. They are necessary for God's glory and for the Christian's own honor and eternal reward before him. 2. Paul, remembering the imprisonment and tribulations he suffered because of the Gospel and for the advantage, as he before said, of the Ephesians, gives the admonition here. He would have them, in return for his sufferings, honor the Gospel in their lives. First he names a general rule of life for Christians. "To walk worthily of the calling wherewith ye were called." THE CHRISTIAN CALLING. 3. The chief thing that should influence a Christian's outward walk is the remembrance of his calling and appointment by God. He should be mindful of why he is called a Christian, and live consistently. He must shine before the world; that is, through his life and God's work, the Word and the name of Christ the Lord must be exalted. Christ exhorts his disciples: "Even so let your light shine before men; that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven." Mt 5, 16. 4. Similarly, Paul would say: "You have received God's grace and his Word and are a blessed people. In Christ all your needs are blessedly supplied. Be mindful of this and remember you are called to a far different and vastly higher life than others know. Show by your manner of living that you seek a higher good than the world seeks--indeed, that you have received far greater blessings. Let your lives honor and glorify the Lord who has given you such blessings. Give no occasion for dishonoring your treasured faith, or for scorning his Word. Rather, influence men by your godly walk and good works to believe in Christ and to glorify him." 5. Let the Christian know his earthly life is not unto himself, nor for his own sake; his life and work here belong to Christ, his Lord. Hence must his walk be such as shall contribute to the honor and glory of his Master, whom he should so serve that he may be able to say with Paul, not only with respect to the spiritual life--the life of faith and of righteousness by grace--but also with respect to its fruits--the outward conduct: "It is no longer I that live, but Christ liveth in me." Gal 2, 20. The Christian's manner of life may be styled "walking in Christ"; yes, as Paul elsewhere has it (Rom 13, 14), "putting on" the Lord Jesus Christ, like a garment or an ornament. The world is to recognize Christ by his shining in us. 6. But the so-called Christian life that does not honor Christ makes its sin the more heinous for the name it bears. Every sin the people of God commit is a provocation of Jehovah; not only in the act of disobedience itself, but also in the transgression of the second commandment. The enormity of the sin is magnified by the conditions that make it a blasphemy of God's name and an occasion of offense to others. Paul says in Romans 2, 24: "For the name of God is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you." So a Christian should, in his life, by all means guard the honor of God--of Christ. He must take heed that he be not guilty of blaspheming that name and of doing wickedness. The devil, aided by the world, construes every act, when possible, to reflect upon God's honor and glory. His purpose is to manifest his bitter hatred against Christ and the Word; also to injure the Church by charging offenses, thus deterring unbelievers from embracing the Gospel and causing the weak to fall away. 7. To guard against such disaster, Christians should be particularly careful to give, in their conduct, no occasion for offense, and to value the name and honor of their God too highly to permit blasphemy of them. They should prefer to lose their own honor, their wealth, their physical well-being, even their lives, rather than that these, their most precious possessions and greatest blessings, should suffer disgrace. Let them remember that upon keeping sacred the name and honor of God depends their own standing before God and men. God promises (1 Sam 2, 30), "Them that honor me I will honor." But pursuing the opposite course, Christians bring upon themselves God's sternest wrath and effect their own rejection and shame. For he says further: "They that despise me shall be lightly esteemed." And in the second commandment God threatens certain and terrible punishment to abusers of his name; that is, to them who do not employ it to his honor and praise. 8. Well may every Christian examine his own life to see if he is careful to guard against offense to the Gospel and to regulate his words and conduct by God's first commandment, making them contribute to the honor and praise of the divine name and the holy Gospel. Weighty indeed and well calculated to cause complaint are the sins to which every Christian is liable in this respect; well may he avoid them lest he heap to himself the wrath of God. Especially need we be careful in these last and evil times when the Gospel is everywhere suppressed by great offenses. Man was created to be the image of God, that through this his image God might himself be expressed. God's image, then, should be reflected in the lives of men as a likeness in a glass, and a Christian can have no higher concern than to live without dishonor to the name of God. ADMONITION TO SPECIAL CHRISTIAN VIRTUES. 9. Such is the first part of Paul's admonition concerning the general life of Christians. He goes on to make special mention of several good works which Christians should diligently observe: humility, meekness, long-suffering, preservation of the unity of the Spirit, and so on. These have been specially treated before, in other epistle lessons, particularly those from Peter. Humility, for instance--mentioned in today's lesson--is taken up the third Sunday after Trinity; patience and meekness, the second Sunday after Easter, and the fifth Sunday after Trinity. 10. The text here presents good works sufficient to occupy all Christians in every station of life; we need not seek other nor better ones. Paul would not impose upon Christians peculiar works, something unrelated to the ordinary walks of life, as certain false saints taught and practiced. These teachers commanded separation from society, isolation in the wilderness, the establishment of monkeries and the performance of self-appointed works. Such works they exalted as superior to ordinary Christian virtues. Indeed, their practice amounted to rejection of the latter, and they actually regarded them as dangerous. The Papacy has in the past shamelessly styled the observance of Christian good works as worldly living, and men were compelled to believe they would find it hard to reach heaven unless they became ecclesiasts--for they regarded only the monks and priests worthy--or at least made themselves partakers of the works of ecclesiasts by purchasing their merits. But Paul--in fact, the entire Scriptures--teaches no other good works than God enjoins upon all men in the Ten Commandments, and which pertain to the common conditions of life. True, these make not such brilliant show in the eyes of the world as do the self-appointed ceremonials constituting the divine service of hypocrites; nevertheless, they are true, worthy, good and profitable works in the sight of God and man. What can be more acceptable to God and advantageous to man than a life lived, in its own calling, in the way that contributes to the honor of God, and that by its example influences others to love God's Word and to praise his name? Moreover, what virtues, of all man possesses, serve him better than humility, meekness, patience and harmony of mind? 11. Now, where is a better opportunity for the exercise of these virtues than amidst the conditions in which God destined us to live--in society, where we mingle with one another? Upon these conditions, self-appointed, unusual lives and monastic holiness have no bearing. For what other person is profited by your entering a cloister, making yourself peculiar, refusing to live as your fellows do? Who is benefited by your cowl, your austere countenance, your hard bed? Who comes to know God or to have a peaceful conscience by such practices on your part, or who is thereby influenced to love his neighbor? Indeed, how can you serve your neighbor by such a life? How manifest your love, humility, patience and meekness if you are unwilling to live among men? if you so strenuously adhere to your self-appointed orders as to allow your neighbor to suffer want before you would dishonor your rules? 12. Astonishing fact, that the world is merged in darkness so great it utterly disregards the Word of God and the conditions he designed for our daily living. If we preach to the world faith in God's Word, the world receives it as heresy. If we speak of works instituted of God himself and conditions of his own appointing, the world regards it as idle talk; it knows better. To live a simple Christian life in one's own family, to faithfully perform the duties of a man-servant or maid-servant--"Oh, that," it says, "is merely the following of worldly pursuits. To do good works you must set about it in a different way. You must creep into a corner, don a cap, make pilgrimages to some saint; then you may be able to help yourself and others to gain heaven." If the question be asked, "Why do so? where has God commanded it?" there is, according to their theory, really no answer to make but this: Our Lord God knows nothing about the matter; he does not understand what good works are. How can he teach us? He must himself be tutored by these remarkably enlightened saints. FRUITS OF ORIGINAL SIN. 13. But all this error results from that miserable inherent plague, that evil termed "original sin." It is a blind wickedness, refusing to recognize the Word of God and his will and work, but introducing instead things of its own heathenish imagination. It draws such a thick covering over eyes, ears and hearts that it renders men unable to perceive how the simple life of a Christian, of husband or wife, of the lower or the higher walks of life, can be beautified by honoring the Word of God. Original sin will not be persuaded to the faithful performance of the works that God testifies are well pleasing to him when wrought by believers in Christ. In a word, universal experience proves that to perform really good works is a special and remarkable grace to which few attain; while the great mass of souls aspiring after holiness vainly busy themselves with worthless works, being deceived into thinking them great, and thus make themselves, as Paul says, "unto every good work reprobate." Tit 1, 16. This fruitless effort is one evil result of the error of human ideas of holiness and the practice of self-chosen works. 14. Another error is the hindrance--yes, the suppression and destruction--of the beautiful virtues of humility, meekness, patience and spiritual harmony here commended of Paul. At the same time the devil is given occasion to encourage fiendish blasphemy. In every instance where the Word of God is set aside for humanly-appointed works, differing views and theories must obtain. One introduces this and another that, each striving for first recognition; then a third endeavors to improve upon their doctrine. Consequently divisions and factions ensue as numerous as the teachers and their creeds; as exemplified in the countless sects to this time prevalent in Popedom, and in the factious spirits of all time. Under such circumstances, none of the virtues like humility, meekness, patience, love, can have place. Opposite conditions must prevail, since harmony of hearts and minds is lacking. One teacher haughtily rejects another, and if his own opinions fail to receive recognition and approval, he displays anger, envy and hatred. He will neither affiliate with nor tolerate him whose practices accord not with his own. 15. On the other hand, the Christian life, the life of faith with its fruits, controlled as it is by the Word of God, is in every way conducive to the preservation of love and harmony, and to the promotion of all virtues. It interferes not with the God-ordained relations of life and their attendant obligations upon men--the requirements of social order, the duties of father and mother, of son and daughter, master and mistress, servant and maid. All life's relations are confirmed by it as valid and its duties as vital. The Christian faith bids each person in his life, and all in common, to be diligent in the works of love, humility, patience. It teaches that one be not intolerant of another, but rather render him his due, remembering that he whose condition in life is the most insignificant can be equally upright and blessed before God with the occupant of the most significant position. Again, it teaches that man must have patience with the weakness of his fellow, being mindful of how others must bear with his own imperfections. In short, it says one must manifest to another the love and kindness he would have that other extend to him. 16. To this Christian attainment, contributes very largely the single fact that a Christian is conscious he has, through Christ, the grace of God, the forgiveness of sins and eternal life. And these not for his own merits or peculiar life and works, but because he is, no matter how insignificant in condition before the world, a child of God and blessed; a partaker, if he but believes, in all the blessings of Christ, sharing equally with the most eminent saint. So, then, he need not look about for works not enjoined upon him. He need not covet those wrought in prominence and by the aid of great gifts of God--of unusual attainments. Let him confine himself to his own sphere; let him serve God in his vocation, remembering that God makes him, too, his instrument in his own place. Again, the occupant of a higher sphere, the possessor of higher gifts and accomplishments, who likewise serves in his vocation received from God, should learn and exhibit harmony of mind. So shall he continue humble and be tolerant of others. He should remember that he is not worthier in the eyes of God because of his greater gifts, but rather is under deeper obligation to serve his fellows, and that God can use the possessor of lesser gifts for even greater accomplishments than himself can boast. Having so learned, he will be able to manifest patience, meekness and love toward his weak and imperfect neighbors, considering them members of Christ with him, and partakers of the same grace and salvation. THE UNITY OF THE SPIRIT. 17. Now you have the reason why the apostles Paul and Peter everywhere so faithfully enforce this virtue, the unity of the Spirit. It is the most necessary and beautiful grace that Christians possess. It holds together the Christian community, preventing factions and schisms, as before explained. So Paul here admonishes men to be careful for harmony, making every endeavor to preserve it. The term "unity of the Spirit" is used to make plain the apostle's meaning. He would thus emphasize oneness of doctrine--the one true faith. Since the Holy Spirit is present only where there is knowledge of and faith in the Gospel of Christ, "unity of the Spirit" implies a unity of faith. Above all things, then, the effort must be to preserve, in the Church, the doctrine of the Scriptures, pure and in its unity. 18. One of the wickedest offenses possible to commit against the Church is the stirring up of doctrinal discord and division, a thing the devil encourages to the utmost. This sin usually has its rise with certain haughty, conceited, self-seeking leaders who desire peculiar distinction for themselves and strive for personal honor and glory. They harmonize with none and would think themselves disgraced were they not honored as superior and more learned individuals than their fellows, a distinction they do not merit. They will give honor to no one, even when they have to recognize the superiority of his gifts over their own. In their envy, anger, hatred and vengefulness, they seek occasion to create factions and to draw people to themselves. Therefore Paul exhorts first to the necessary virtue of love, having which men will be enabled to exercise humility, patience and forbearance toward one another. 19. The character of the evils resulting to the Church from divisions and discords in doctrine is evident from the facts. Many are deceived; the masses immediately respond to new doctrine brilliantly presented in specious words by presumptuous individuals thirsting for fame. More than that, many weak but well-meaning ones fall to doubting, uncertain where to stand or with whom to hold. Consequently men reject and blaspheme the Christian doctrine and seek occasion to dispute it. Many become reckless pleasure-lovers, disregarding all religion and ignoring the Word of God. Further, even they who are called Christians come to have hard feelings against one another, and, figuratively, bite and devour in their hate and envy. Consequently their love grows cold and faith is extinguished. 20. Of so much disturbance in the Church, and of the resulting injuries to souls, are guilty those conceited, factious leaders who do not adhere to the true doctrine, preserving the unity of the Spirit, but seek to institute something new for the sake of advancing their own ideas and their own honor, or gratifying their revenge. They thus bring upon themselves damnation infinitely more intolerable than others suffer. Christians, then, should be careful to give no occasion for division or discord, but to be diligent, as Paul here admonishes, to preserve unity. And this is not an easy thing to do, for among Christians occasions frequently arise provoking self-will, anger and hatred. The devil is always at hand to stir and blow the flame of discord. Let Christians take heed they do not give place to the promptings of the devil and of the flesh. They must strive against them, submitting to all suffering, and performing all demands, whether honor, property, physical welfare or life itself be involved, in the effort to prevent, so far as in them lies, any disturbance of the unity of doctrine, of faith and of Spirit. "There is one body, and one Spirit, even as also ye were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all." 21. Christians should feel bound to maintain the unity of the Spirit, since they are all members of one body and partakers of the same spiritual blessings. They have the same priceless treasures--one God and Father in heaven, one Lord and Savior, one Word, baptism and faith; in short, one and the same salvation, a blessing common to all whereof one has as much as another, and cannot obtain more. What occasion, then, for divisions or for further seeking? 22. Here Paul teaches what the true Christian Church is and how it may be identified. There is not more than one Church, or people of God, one earth. This one Church has one faith, one baptism, one confession of God the Father and of Jesus Christ. Its members faithfully hold, and abide by, these common truths. Every one desiring to be saved and to come to God must be incorporated into this Church, outside of which no one will be saved. 23. Unity of the Church does not consist in similarity of outward form of government, likeness of Law, tradition and ecclesiastical customs, as the Pope and his followers claim. They would exclude from the Church all not obedient to them in these outward things, though members of the one faith, one baptism, and so on. The Church is termed "one holy, catholic or Christian Church," because it represents one plain, pure Gospel doctrine, and an outward confession thereof, always and everywhere, regardless of dissimilarity of physical life, or of outward ordinances, customs and ceremonies. 24. But they are not members of the true Church of Christ who, instead of preserving unity of doctrine and oneness of Christian faith, cause divisions and offenses--as Paul says (Rom 16, 17)--by the human doctrines and self-appointed works for which they contend, imposing them upon all Christians as necessary. They are perverters and destroyers of the Church, as we have elsewhere frequently shown. The consolation of the true doctrine is ours, and we hold it in opposition to Popedom, which accuses us of having withdrawn from them, and so condemns us as apostates from the Church. They are, however, themselves the real apostates, persecuting the truth and destroying the unity of the Spirit under the name and title of the Church and of Christ. Therefore, according to the command of God, all men are under obligation to shun them and withdraw from them. _Eighteenth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 1 Corinthians 1, 4-9. 4 I thank my God always concerning you, for the grace of God which was given you in Christ Jesus; 5 that in everything ye were enriched in him, in all utterance and all knowledge; 6 even as the testimony of Christ was confirmed in you: 7 so that ye come behind in no gift; waiting for the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ; 8 who shall also confirm you unto the end, that ye be unreprovable in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9 God is faithful, through whom ye were called into the fellowship of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord. TREASURE CHRISTIANS HAVE IN THE GOSPEL. 1. We have before us the opening words of the Epistle to the Corinthians, which Paul was moved to write because of unpleasant conditions in the Church at Corinth after his departure. Divisions had arisen and sad confusion prevailed in doctrine and life. Hence the apostle was constrained to rebuke their wickedness and correct their infirmities. Because of these wholesome admonitions, the reading and heeding of this epistle is not only profitable but essential to this day; for the devil takes no respite, but whenever the Gospel is preached in its purity he mixes with the children of God and sows his seed. 2. Paul intends to be rather severe--even caustic--but he begins very leniently, showing them what they have received through the Gospel. His purpose is to arouse their gratitude to God, and to induce them, for his honor and glory, to be harmonious in doctrine and life, avoiding divisions and other offenses. "I thank my God always concerning you, for the grace of God which was given you in Christ Jesus," etc. 3. In other words, Paul would say: Dear brethren, consider, I pray you, what abundant grace and gifts have been given you of God. They are bestowed not because of the Law, or because of your righteousness, your merits and works; you are given no reason to exalt yourselves above others, or to originate sects or schisms. Nay, all these blessings have been freely given you in Christ and for his sake, through the preaching of the Gospel. The Gospel is a grace which brings to you all manner of gifts, by him enriching you in everything. You lack nothing from God, but you await this one thing, that blessed day when Christ will reveal himself to you with all those heavenly gifts which you now possess in faith. 4. In this wise he extols to them the preaching of the Gospel (as indeed he does on different occasions); his purpose is to induce them to regard it most appreciatively. He gives them an example of his own gratitude, thanking God on their behalf, for the purpose of calling forth their especial gratitude when they should consider what they formerly were and what they now had received through the Gospel. And again, he would have them beware lest, forgetful of their former misery and present grace, they relapse into their old blindness. A sad beginning in such backsliding had been made by factions in their midst, who, satiated with the Gospel and indifferent to the abundant grace they enjoyed, began to cast about for something else. 5. Now observe: If the exalted apostle and venerable teacher of the Gentiles in his day had to witness in his own parish such factions and sects as those which, in sinful security and ingratitude toward the Gospel, arose during his life, what wonder is it that today, when we do not have the excellent preachers and pious Christians of those times, there are similar sects? We are aware of the great benefits bestowed upon us, but at the same time we see and realize that the devil instigates divisions and scandals. And the cause of these evils may be traced to our ingratitude; we have quickly forgotten the ills we endured under the blindness of popery, and how miserably we were deluded and tormented. Necessarily, where God's mercies are lightly dismissed from the mind and disregarded, gratitude and regard for God's Word cannot be the result; satiated, listless Christians go their way fancying that spiritual conditions always were and always will be as now. 6. The people, therefore, must be awakened to consider their former destitution, the very wretchedness they were in. The apostle later on vividly pictures such condition to his Corinthians, while here, in the opening chapter, he intimates to them, in kind and courteous words, to consider, in the light of the Gospel benefits they now enjoy, what they lacked before and might be deprived of again. 7. Therefore he says, You now have received the grace whereby in everything ye are enriched. Formerly you had not this grace and would not have it today had not the Gospel been preached to you. You are enriched in everything pertaining to yonder life, for it is not the purpose of the Gospel to give earthly riches. But in spiritual blessings ye come behind in no gift and have need of naught except this one thing, that the Lord himself should come. This blessing you are yet to have, and biding its advent you here live by the gifts and grace with which you were enriched, until you are finally redeemed from the sinful, wicked life of the world and from all its oppressions. You must know, and must thank God for it, that you need not seek after any higher calling or better gifts, thinking you have not all that is essential, as the factious spirits would have you believe. 8. For in your own judgment, what better thing could you have than is the Christian's in his Gospel and his faith? He has assurance of sins forgiven and washed away in holy baptism, of justification and holiness before God, and of the fact that he is God's child and heir to eternal life. Furthermore, although the Christian is conscious of remaining weakness and sin, yea, although he be overcome by a fault, he may avail himself of absolution, comfort and strength through his fellow Christians and by the aid of the sacraments; and he has daily guidance for his conduct and faith in all the walks of life. Again, he can call upon God in prayer in the day of trouble, and the firm assurance is his that God will hear and help him. What further can one desire, or what more does he need, than the knowledge that he is God's child through baptism and has God's Word at hand for comfort and strength in weakness and sin? Do you consider it slight enrichment to have assurance of the fact that God himself is speaking to you and, by means of the office of the ministry, is effective in you, teaching, admonishing, comforting, sustaining you, yea, granting you victory over the devil, death and all evil influences on earth? 9. Formerly what would we not gladly have given and done for but a single Gospel truth in our distress and trials of conscience! True, when one was discouraged or perplexed he was advised to seek and follow the counsel of some intelligent and judicious mind; but such judicious one who might assist with his counsel was nowhere to be found. For a wise man's counsel does not answer in such case. The Word of God alone suffices, and you are to rely on it as if God himself revealed his counsel to you from heaven. 10. As Paul says, it is great riches, a precious treasure, to possess in very fact the Word of God and not to doubt that it is the Word of God. It is this that will answer; this can comfort your heart and support it. Of spiritual benefits you know we had none under the tyranny and darkness of the Pope. At that time we suffered ourselves to be led and driven by his commandments, vain human baubles, by bulls, lies, invocation of saints, indulgences, masses, monkery. And we did whatever was enjoined in the name of the Church, solely to gain comfort and help, that we might not despair of God's grace. But instead of comforting us, these things led us to the devil and thrust us into greater anguish and terror; for there was nothing in the doctrine of the papists that could give us certainty. Indeed, they themselves had to confess that by its teachings no man could or should be certain of his state of grace. 11. Yea, they forced poor, timid, tempted hearts to dread and fear Christ more than the devil even, as I myself experienced full well. I resorted to the dead--St. Barbara, St. Ann and other departed saints--regarding them as mediators between me and Christ's wrath. But this availed me nothing, nor did it free me from a fearful and fugitive conscience. There was not one among us all--and we were called very learned doctors of Holy Writ--who could have given true comfort from God's Word, saying: This is God's Word; this one thing God asks of you, that you honor him by accepting comfort; believe and know that he forgives your transgressions and has no wrath against you. If someone could have told me this, I would have given all I possessed for the knowledge; yea, for such word of comfort I would not have taken in exchange the glory and the crowns of all kings, for it would have restored my soul, it would have refreshed and sustained my body and life. 12. All this we should bear in mind, by no means should we forget it; that we may return thanks to God, recounting the superior and wonderful gifts which have enriched us in all things. We have besides the Word, free prayer and the Lord's Prayer, knowing what to pray for and how to pray--knowledge common to the very children today, thank God. In former times, all men, especially we monks, tormented themselves with lengthy repetitions in reading and singing; yet our prayers were but chattering, as the noise of geese over their food, or of monks repeating a psalm. 13. I, too, wanted to be a pious and godly monk and I prepared with earnest devotion for mass and for prayers. But when most devout I went to the altar a doubter and left the altar a doubter. When I had rendered my confession I still doubted, and I doubted when I did not render it. For we were wholly wrapped up in the erroneous idea that we could not pray and would not be heard unless we were absolutely clean and without sin, like the saints in heaven. It would have been much better not to pray at all and to have done something else, than thus to take God's name in vain. Still, we monks--in fact all the ecclesiastics--deluded the people, promising them our prayers for their money and possessions, actually selling our prayers, though we did not even know that we prayed in a manner acceptable to God. But today, thank God, we do know and understand, not only what to pray for and how to approach God "nothing doubting," but we can also add a hearty Amen, believing that according to his promise he will certainly hear us. THE CHRISTIAN'S TREASURE. 14. The Christian has indeed inestimable treasure. In the first place he has the testimony of the Word of God, which is the word of eternal grace and comfort, that he has a right and true conception of baptism, the Lord's Supper, the Ten Commandments and the Creed. In addition he has the sure refuge of God's promise to deliver us from every trouble in which we shall call upon him, and to give us, as he promised by the prophet Zechariah (12, 10), the Spirit of grace and of prayer. And the Christian, by virtue of his enlightened understanding, can wisely discern what are good works and what callings are pleasing to God; on the other hand, his judgment is equally true as to unprofitable and vain works and false services. Before, we had not this wholesome knowledge. We knew not what we believed, or how we prayed and lived. We sought comfort and salvation in self-devised trivialities, in penances, confessions and satisfactions, in self-righteous works of monkery and in obedience to the commands of the Pope. We believed such works to be fully satisfactory and, indeed, the only things that were holy; the pursuits of common Christians we considered worldly and dangerous. 15. In illustration of this idea, a picture was exhibited--with the sanction of the Pope--representing a great ship in the wild, wide sea, containing only the holy monks and the super-holy popes, cardinals, bishops, etc., who were throwing their merits to those in peril struggling in the water, or extending a hand, or by means of ropes and their stoles drawing the drowning to safety in the boat. 16. In contrast to this darkness, consider the priceless and to-be-cherished blessing of knowing with certainty wherein the heart is to take comfort, how to seek help in distress and how to conduct one's self in one's own station. If, though provided with spiritual riches on all sides, you are not sufficient of yourself at all times to grasp them, you can, nevertheless, always reach and appropriate them by means of the ordinary ministry and office of the Church, yes, by the aid of your fellow-Christians. Again, it is productive of the greatest happiness to know that when living aright in the ordinary walks of life established by God, you are more acceptable and pleasing to him than you would be to purchase the works and merits of all the monks and hermits. 17. What Paul terms being "enriched," first, "in all utterance," or knowledge--which, in the exalted spiritual meaning of the words, bears on life everlasting--is having the comfort of faith in Christ and of invocation and prayer. And enriched in "all knowledge," means having true conception and right judgment in all things of our physical life and in all our earthly relations. All things that a Christian should know and should possess are comprehended in these two terms. These blessings are gifts and treasures indescribably great. He who will contrast them with the destitution of our former condition cannot but be joyful and thankful. I remember the time when I, engaged in earnest study of Holy Writ, would have given a great deal for the right exposition of a psalm; and when had I but begun to understand a verse aright, I would have been as rejoiced as if born to life anew. 18. Truly, then, we should now render to God heartfelt thanks for the great favor and blessing of restored light and understanding in Scripture, and the right conception of doctrinal matters. But, alas! it is likely to be with us as with the Corinthians, who had received most abundantly from Paul but by way of return had made ill use of it and proved shamefully unthankful. And they met with retribution, the worst of it being false doctrine and seductions, until at last that grand congregation was wholly ruined and destroyed. A similar retribution threatens us, yes, is before the door with appalling knock, in the instance of the Turks and in other distress and calamity. For this reason we should, with a thankful heart and serious mind, pray, as Paul here does for his Corinthians, that God would keep us steadfast in the possession of his gifts and blameless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. 19. Paul admonishes us to continue in this knowledge and appreciation of the grace and gifts of God. Since by these blessings we have received riches and happiness to the satisfying of all our need, the apostle further admonishes us to look only for the Lord to reveal to us publicly by his coming that which he has promised and through faith already granted us. 20. In the past, much has been written and ingeniously devised on the topic of preparing for death and the final judgment. But it has only served to further confuse timid consciences. For these comforters were not able to show anything of the comfort to be found in the riches of grace and bliss in Christ. They directed the people to oppose with their own works and good life, death and God's judgment. In place of this delusion is now evident the precious truth; he who knows the Gospel doctrines, goes on and performs his own work and duty in his respective calling. He takes comfort in the fact that through baptism he is engrafted into Christ; he receives absolution and partakes of the holy supper for the strengthening of his faith, commending his soul and body to Christ. Why should such a one fear death? Though it come at any time, in form of pestilence or accident, it will always find the Christian ready and well prepared, be he awake or asleep; for he is in Christ Jesus. 21. For all these things the Christian may well thank and bless God, realizing that he has no further need, nor can he gain anything better than he already has in the remission of sins, the gift of the Holy Spirit and the faithful prosecution of his calling; however, he should remain in, and daily grow in, faith and supplication. But he cannot hope to attain to another and better doctrine, faith, Spirit, prayer, sacrament, reward, etc., than had all the saints, John the Baptist, Peter, Paul, or in fact than has now every Christian that is baptized. Therefore I need not idly spend time in trying to prepare people for death and inspire them with courage by such commonplaces as recalling and relating the innumerable daily accidents, ills and dangers of this life. This method will not answer; death will not thereby be frightened away, nor will the fear of death be removed. The Gospel teaching is: Believe in Christ, pray and live in accordance with God's Word, and then, when death overtakes and attacks you, you will know that you are Christ the Lord's. Paul says (Rom 14, 8): "Whether we live ... or die, we are the Lord's." Indeed, we Christians live upon this earth to the very end that we may have assured comfort, salvation and victory over death and hell. 22. Of this Paul here reminds us, and dwells on it more fully later in this Epistle; he would have us duly thankful for this great grace and living among ourselves in a Christian and brotherly manner, in doctrine and practice, ignoring and avoiding that wild, disorderly conduct of the contentious and disorderly. He who recognizes such grace and blessing cannot but love and thank God and conduct himself aright toward his neighbor; and when he finds himself falling short in this he will, by admonition and the Word of God, make amends. 23. Here you might put the question: Why does Paul speak in such a commendatory way of the Corinthians, saying that they were enriched in everything and came behind in no gift, when he himself confesses later on that they had contentions and schisms--in regard to baptism, to the sacrament, to the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead and in regard to abuse of liberty, and some lived as they pleased. Would you not call these things faults and shortcomings? How, then, is he in a position to say that they were abundantly supplied with all things spiritual, lacking not one thing? 24. Well, you should recall what I have repeatedly stated: Christendom is never so spotless that there are not some spurious and wicked admixed, just as you will always find weeds, darnel, tares, or wild mustard together with pure grain. And he who will examine the Church with only a view of finding faults and frailties among those called Christians, will miss the Church, yes, the Gospel and Christ, and never discover a Church at all. 25. But we have the consolation of knowing that if we have the Gospel pure, we have the treasure God gives his Church and we cannot go astray nor want. But as yet we have not reached that degree of perfection where all hearers of the Gospel will grasp it fully and wholly or are faultless in faith and life; at all times there will be some who do not believe and some who are weak and imperfect. However, that great treasure and rich blessing of doctrine and knowledge is present. There is no defect in this, and it is effective and fruitful. The fact that some do not believe, does not weaken baptism or the Gospel or the Church; they only harm themselves. To sum up, where the Word remains, there most assuredly is also the Church. For wherever the doctrine is pure, there you can also keep purity in baptism, the sacrament, absolution, the Ten Commandments, the Lord's Prayer, good works and all callings; and wherever you find a defect or an irregularity, you can admonish, amend and rectify by means of the Word. 26. Some there must be who have the Word and sacraments pure and unadulterated, who have faith, pray aright, keep God's commandments and do other things, as, thank God, we have with us. Then we may firmly conclude: If the true Church were not here, these characteristics would be lacking; therefore we must have among ourselves true members of the Church and true saints. Now even though children of the world intermingle (as will be the case always and in all places), who show neither faith nor a godly life, it would corrupt neither faith, nor baptism, nor doctrine, nor would the Church perish on that account--the treasure remains in its integrity and efficacy, and God may graciously cause some to turn from their unbelief and wicked life and be added to the faithful and to mend their ways. 27. Again, they with whom this treasure--the Word or doctrine and its knowledge--is not found, cannot be the Christian Church nor members of it, and for that reason they cannot pray or believe aright or do good works pleasing to God. It follows that their whole lives are in God's sight lost and condemned, though they may assiduously extol God and the Church and before the world may have the appearance and reputation of leading particularly holy lives and excelling even the upright Christians in virtues and honor. It is a settled fact that outside the Church of Christ there is no God, no grace, no bliss; as Paul says (Eph 4, 5): "One Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all," etc. And Acts 4, 12 says: "And in none other is there salvation: for neither is there any other name under heaven, that is given among men, wherein we must be saved." 28. And so Paul, when here extolling the Corinthians, has not an eye to the contentious, the Epicureans, or to those who give public offense, as the man that "had his father's wife;" but the apostle looks to the fact that a few remain who have the pure Word of God, faith, baptism and the sacrament, though some hypocrites be among them. Because of these few--and few indeed there may be--we recognize the presence of that inestimable treasure of which the apostle speaks. It is found as well where two or three are gathered together as with thousands. Neither the Gospel nor the ministers nor the Church is to be blamed that the multitude miss this treasure; the multitude have but themselves to blame, for they close their ears and eyes. 29. Now behold how loftily Paul has extolled and how beautifully portrayed the Christian Church--where she is to be found on earth and what inestimable blessings and gifts she has received of Christ, for which she is in duty bound to thank and praise him in her confession and in her life. This subject the apostle concludes with the words: "God is faithful, through whom ye were called into the fellowship of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord." 30. The good work which Christ has begun in you and already assured to you, he will without fail establish in you until the end and for ever, if you but do not fall away through unbelief, or cast grace from you. For his Word or promise given to you, and his work begun in you, are not changeable as is man's word and work, but are firm, certain, divine, immovable truth. Since you are in possession of this your divine calling, draw comfort therefrom and rely on it without wavering. Amen. _Nineteenth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Ephesians 4, 22-28. 22 That ye put away, as concerning your former manner of life, the old man, that waxeth corrupt after the lusts of deceit; 23 and that ye be renewed in the spirit of your mind, 24 and put on the new man, that after God hath been created in righteousness and holiness of truth. 25 Wherefore, putting away falsehood, speak ye truth each one with his neighbor: for we are members one of another. 26 Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath: 27 neither give place to the devil. 28 Let him that stole steal no more: but rather let him labor, working with his hands the thing that is good, that he may have whereof to give to him that hath need. DUTY TO NEW AND OLD MAN. 1. Here again is an admonition for Christians to follow up their faith by good works and a new life, for though they have forgiveness of sins through baptism, the old Adam still adheres to their flesh and makes himself felt in tendencies and desires to vices physical and mental. The result is that unless Christians offer resistance, they will lose their faith and the remission of sins and will in the end be worse than they were at first; for they will begin to despise and persecute the Word of God when corrected by it. Yea, even those who gladly hear the Word of God, who highly prize it and aim to follow it, have daily need of admonition and encouragement, so strong and tough is that old hide of our sinful flesh. And so powerful and wily is our old evil foe that wherever he can gain enough of an opening to insert one of his claws, he thrusts in his whole self and will not desist until he has again sunk man into his former condemnable unbelief and his old way of despising and disobeying God. 2. Therefore, the Gospel ministry is necessary in the Church, not only for instruction of the ignorant--such as the simple, unlettered people and the children--but also for the purpose of awakening those who know very well what they are to believe and how they are to live, and admonishing them to be on their guard daily and not to become indolent, disheartened or tired in the war they must wage on this earth with the devil, with their own flesh and with all manner of evil. 3. For this reason Paul is so persistent in his admonitions that he actually seems to be overdoing it. He proceeds as if the Christians were either too dull to comprehend or so inattentive and forgetful that they must be reminded and driven. The apostle well knows that though they have made a beginning in faith and are in that state which should show the fruits of faith, such result is not so easily forthcoming. It will not do to think and say: Well, it is sufficient to have the doctrine, and if we have the Spirit and faith, then fruits and good works will follow of their own accord. For although the Spirit truly is present and, as Christ says, willing and effective in those that believe, on the other hand the flesh is weak and sluggish. Besides, the devil is not idle, but seeks to seduce our weak nature by temptations and allurements. 4. So we must not permit the people to go on in their way, neglecting to urge and admonish them, through God's Word, to lead a godly life. Indeed, you dare not be negligent and backward in this duty; for, as it is, our flesh is all too sluggish to heed the Spirit and all too able to resist it. Paul says (Gal 5, 17): "For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh ... that ye may not do the things that ye would." Therefore, God is constrained to do as a good and diligent householder or ruler, who, having a slothful man-servant or maid-servant, or careless officers, who otherwise are neither wicked nor faithless, will not consider it sufficient once or twice to direct, but will constantly be supervising and directing. 5. Nor have we as yet arrived at the point where our flesh and blood will joyfully and gladly abound in good works and obedience to God as the spirit is inclined and faith directs. Even with the utmost efforts the Spirit scarce can compel our old man. What would be the result if we were no more urged and admonished but could go our way thinking, as many self-satisfied persons do: I am well acquainted with my duties, having learned them many years ago and having heard frequent explanations of them; yea, I have taught others? It might be that one year's intermission of preaching and admonition would place us below the level of the heathen. 6. Now, this exhortation in itself is simple and easy of comprehension. The apostle is but repeating his exhortations of other places--on the fruits of faith, or a godly walk--merely in different terms. Here he speaks of putting away the old man and putting on the new man, of being "renewed in the spirit of your mind." "THE OLD MAN." 7. What he calls "the old man" is well known to us; namely, the whole nature of man as descended from Adam after his fall in paradise, being blinded by the devil, depraved in soul, not keeping God before his eyes nor trusting him, yes, utterly regardless of God and the judgment day. Though with his mouth he may honor God's Word and the Gospel, yet in reality he is unchanged; if he does have a little additional knowledge, he has just as little fear, love and trust in God as heretofore. 8. Such a life and such conduct should not be found among you, says the apostle; you are not to continue with "the old man." He must be put off and laid aside. Your former manner of life, inherited of Adam, consisted in disobeying God, in neither fearing, trusting nor calling upon him. Again, in your body you obeyed not God's commandments, being given to lust, pride, insatiable greed, envy, hatred, etc. A life and walk of this nature is not becoming a Christian who is regarded as, and truly is, a different order of being from his former self, as we shall hear. Necessarily he should walk differently. 9. In this respect a Christian must take heed that he does not deceive himself; the true Christian differs from the hypocrite. True Christians so live that it is apparent from their lives that they keep God before their eyes and truly believe the Gospel, while hypocrites likewise show by their walk that their pretensions of faith and forgiveness of sin are hollow. No proof is seen in their lives and works showing that they have in any wise mended their former ways; they merely deck themselves with a pretense, with the name of Gospel, of faith, of Christ. 10. Now, the apostle has two things to say of the old man: that he corrupts himself in error as to the soul and in lusts as to the body. Paul portrays the old man--meaning every man without true faith though he bear the name of a Christian--as in the first place given to error: coming short of the truth, knowing naught of the true knowledge of Christ and faith in him, indifferent alike to God's wrath and God's grace, deceiving himself with his own conceit that darkness is light. The old man believes that God will not be moved to vengeance though he do as he pleases, even to decorating vices with the names of virtues. Haughtiness, greed, oppressing and tormenting the poor, wrath, envy--all this he would call preserving his dignity, exercising strict discipline, honestly and economically conducting his domestic affairs, caring for his wife and children, displaying Christian zeal and love of justice, etc. In short, he proceeds in the perfectly empty delusion and self-conceit that he is a Christian. 11. Out of this error proceeds the other corruption, the lusts of the body, which are fruits of unbelief. Unbelief causes men to walk in sinful security and yield to all the appetites of their flesh. Such have no inclination toward what is good, nor do they aim to promote orderliness, honor or virtue. They take desperate chances on their lives, wanting to live according to the lusts of their flesh and yet not be reprimanded. 12. This, says the apostle, is the old man's course and nature. He will do naught but ruin himself. The longer continued, the greater his debasement. He draws down upon himself his own condemnation and penalty for body and soul; for in proportion as he becomes unbelieving and hard-hearted, does he become haughty, hateful and faithless, and eventually a perfect scoundrel and villain. This was your former manner of life, when as yet you were heathen and non-Christians. Therefore you must by all means put off the old man and cast him far from you; otherwise you cannot remain a Christian. For glorying in the grace of God and the forgiveness of sin is inconsistent with following sin--remaining in the former old un-Christian life and walking in error and deceitful lusts. THE GROWTH OF "THE NEW MAN." "And that ye be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new man, that after God hath been created in righteousness and holiness of truth." 13. Having put away the old man, the apostle exhorts us further to put on the new man, that day by day we may grow as new creatures. This is effected by first being delivered from error--from the erroneous thoughts and ideas incident to our corrupt nature with its false conceptions of God, wherein we do not fear nor believe him--and then from God's Word receiving the right understanding of him. When we rightly understand, we shall fear his wrath against sin and rely on his grace in true faith, believing that he will forgive our sins for Christ's sake and will hear our prayer for strength and assistance to withstand and conquer, and to continually grow in faith. 14. This change Paul calls being "renewed in the spirit of your mind"; that is, constantly growing and becoming established in that true conception and clear knowledge of Christ begun in us, in opposition to error and idle vaporings. He who is thus received, says the apostle, is a man "that after God hath been created in righteousness and holiness of truth." In the old man there is naught but error, by means of which the devil leads to destruction. But the new man has the Spirit and the truth, by which the heart is illumined unto righteousness and holiness, wherein man follows the guidance of God's Word and feels a desire for a godly walk and good life; just as, on the other hand, the desire and love for sin and wickedness is the product of error. This new man is created after God, as an image of God, and must of necessity differ from such as live in error and in lusts, without the knowledge of God and disobedient to him. For if God's image is in man, man must consequently have the right knowledge of God and right conceptions and ideas, and lead a godly life consistent with holiness and righteousness as found in God himself. 15. Such an image of God Adam was when first created. He was, as to the soul, truthful, free from error, and possessed of true faith and knowledge of God; and as to the body, holy and pure, that is, without the impure, unclean desires of avarice, lasciviousness, envy, hatred, etc. And all his children--all men--would have so remained from their birth if he had not suffered himself to be led astray by the devil and to be thus ruined. But since Christians, by the grace and Spirit of God, now have been renewed to this image of God, they are so to live that soul and spirit are righteous and pleasing to God through faith in Christ; and that also the body--meaning the whole external life--be pure and holy, which is genuine holiness. 16. Some there are who pretend to great holiness and purity, but it is mere pretense, deceiving the people in general. Such are the factious spirits and monastic saints, who base their holiness and uprightness solely on an external, peculiar life and on self-elected works. Theirs may be apparently a commendable, holy and pure way of praying and fasting, of denying self, etc., and the people may call it so; but inwardly they are and remain haughty, venomous, hateful, filled with the filth of human lust and evil thoughts, as Christ says of such. Mt 15, 19; Lk 16, 15. Likewise their righteousness on which they pride themselves before God has a certain gloss, on the strength of which they presume to merit the grace of God for themselves and others; but inwardly they have no true conception of God, being in rank unbelief, that is, false and vain suppositions, or doubts. Such righteousness, or holiness, is not true nor honest. It is made up wholly of hypocrisy and deceit. It is built, not of God nor after God, but after that lying spirit, the devil. 17. The true Christian, Paul asserts, has been molded through faith in Christ into a new man, like unto God, truly justified and holy in his sight; even as Adam originally was in perfect harmony of heart with God, showing true, straightforward confidence, love and willingness. And his body was holy and pure, knowing naught of evil, impure or improper desire. Thus the whole life of the man was a beautiful portrait of God, a mirror wherein God himself was reflected; even as the lives and natures of the holy spirits the angels are wrapped up in God and represent true knowledge of him, assurance, and joy in him and utterly pure and holy thoughts and works according to the will of God. 18. But since man is now so grievously fallen from this cheerful confidence, this certainty and joy, into doubts or into presumption toward God, and from unspotted, noble obedience into the lusts of iniquity and ungodliness, it follows that not from mankind can come help or relief. Nor can any one hope for remedy except the Christians, who through faith in Christ begin again to have a joyful and confident heart toward God. They thus enter again into their former relation and into the true paradise of perfect harmony with God and of justification; they are comforted by his grace. Accordingly they are disposed to lead a godly life in harmony with God's commandments and to resist ungodly lusts and ways. These begin to taste God's goodness and loving kindness, as Paul says, and realize what they lost in paradise. He, therefore, that would be a Christian should strive to be found in this new man created after God; not in blind error and vain conceit, but in the very essence of righteousness and holiness before God. TWO CLASSES OF SINS. "Wherefore, putting away falsehood, speak ye truth each one with his neighbor: for we are members one of another." 19. Lest there might be one who failed to understand the meaning of the old and the new man, or of true and false righteousness and holiness, the apostle now proceeds to give an example or two, making it easier for us to grasp the idea. All sin comes under one of two classes: First, that of the devil's own making, such as murder and deceit; for by lies he establishes all idolatry, error, false faith and holiness, and among men he creates faithlessness, deceit, malice, etc. Secondly, those sins which he instigates man to commit against man; deeds of wrath, hatred, vengeance and murder. Paul combines these two classes. 20. Now, when a man does not deal fairly with his neighbor, but practices dishonesty and deceit, be it in matters spiritual or temporal (and the world is ever deceitful in all transactions), then certainly the old man holds sway and not righteousness nor holiness, however much the man may effect a good appearance and evade the courts. For such conduct does not reflect God's image, but the devil's. For the heart does not rely on God and his truth, otherwise it would war with fraud and deception; but its object is to clothe itself with a misleading garb, even assuming the name of God, and thus to deceive, belie, betray and forsake its neighbor at the bidding of every fiendish whim, and all for the satisfaction of its avarice, selfishness and pride. 21. In contrast thereto you can recognize the new man. He speaks the truth and hates lies, not only those momentous lies against the first table of the Ten Commandments, but also those against the second table; for he deals faithfully and in a brotherly way with others, doing as he would be done by himself. Thus should Christians live with each other, as members of one body, according to the apostle, and as having in Christ all things common and alike. "Be ye angry and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath." 22. Half the sins which the world has learned of its lord and master, the devil, consist in lying and deceiving, and that in the name and appearance of truth. No one wants to be called a liar, and even the devil covers his lies with the name of truth. The other half, which is easier to recognize, consists in wrath and its fruits. And this class is usually the result of the other. The world, for its own advantage, lies and deceives; and when it sees mankind acting in opposition to its wishes, or beholds its lies exposed and its schemes thwarted, it begins to rage in wrath against God, endeavoring to avenge itself and inflict harm, but fraudulently disguising its wicked motive under the plea of having good and abundant reasons for its action. 23. Therefore Paul admonishes the Christians as new creatures, to guard against this vice of wrath, adducing the fourth verse of the fourth Psalm: "Stand in awe and sin not." The repetition of this passage sounds, in Paul's rendering, as if permission to be angry were given; he says: "Be ye angry, and sin not." But Paul is taking into consideration the way of the world. Men are tempted and moved to anger. There are no clean records. Under sudden provocation the heart swells with ire, while the devil busily fans the flame; for he is ever alert to stamp upon us his seal and image and make us like unto him, either through error and false doctrine, or through wrath and murder in conflict with love and patience. These two forms of evil you will encounter, especially if you make an effort to be a godly Christian, to defend the truth and to live uprightly in the sight of all. You will meet with all manner of malice aforethought and deceit, and with faithlessness and malignity on the part of those you have benefited; again, with unmasked violence and injustice on the part of those who should protect you and see to your interests. This will hurt and move you to wrath. Yea, in your own house and among your dear Christian brethren you will often meet with that which vexes you; again, a word of yours may hurt their feelings. And it will not be otherwise. This life of ours is so constituted that such conditions must be. Flesh and blood cannot but be stirred at times by wrath and impatience, especially when it receives evil for good; and the devil is ever at hand kindling your anger and endeavoring to fan into a blaze the wrath and ill humor between yourself and your neighbor. 24. But right here, says the apostle, you should beware and not sin; not give rein, nor yield to the impulse and promptings of wrath. That you may indeed be moved, the apostle would say, I well know, and you may fancy to have the best of reasons for exhibiting anger and vengeance; but beware of doing what your wrath would have you do: and if overcome by wrath and led to rashness, do not continue in it, do not harbor it, but subdue and restrain it, the sooner the better; do not suffer it to take root or to remain with you over night. 25. If followed, wrath will not suffer you to do a single right thing, as James affirms (ch. 1, 20). It causes man to fall and sin against God and his neighbor. Even the heathen have seen that wrath gets the better of reason and is never the source of good counsel. In line with this, we read that St. Ambrose reproved the emperor Theodosius for having, while in a rage, caused the execution of many persons in Thessalonica; and that he succeeded in having the emperor issue a rescript to the effect that no one should be executed, even on his imperial order and command, until a full month had passed by, thus affording an opportunity to rescind the order if given in haste and wrath. 26. Therefore the Psalm says: When wrath attacks and moves you, do not at once give it leave to do its will. Therein you would certainly commit sin. But go into your chamber, commune and take counsel with yourself, pray the Lord's Prayer, repeat some good passages from God's Word, curb yourself and confide in God; he will uphold your rights. 27. It is this the apostle has in mind when saying: "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath." A Christian must not entertain wrath; he should instantly quench and stifle it. It is the part of the new man to control anger, that the devil may not move him from his new-found faith and make him lose what he has received. If he yields to these instigations of his flesh, he thereby returns to the error and condemnation in the old man and loses control of himself, following his own desires. Then he adorns a lie with the appearance of truth, claiming the right to be angry and take revenge; just as the world does when it asserts: This fellow has done me infinite violence and injustice; am I to suffer it? I have a just cause and shall not recline my head in ease until he is repaid! By such talk it loses its case before both God and men; as the saying goes: He that strikes back has the most unjust cause. 28. Both divine and human justice forbids that a man be judge in his own case. For this very reason God has established governmental and judicial authority, in his stead to punish transgressions, which--when properly administered--is not man's but God's judgment. He therefore that invades such judgment, invades the authority of God himself; he commits a double wrong and merits double condemnation. If you desire to seek and obtain redress in the courts, you are at liberty to do so, provided you proceed in the proper way, at the proper place and with those to whom God has entrusted authority. To these authorities you may appeal for redress. If you obtain it according to law, well and good; if not, you must suffer wrong and commit your case to God, as we have explained more fully elsewhere. 29. In short, we find in this unique passage a statement to the effect that he who curbs not his wrath but retains it longer than a day, or over night, cannot be a Christian. Where then do they stand who entertain wrath and hatred indefinitely, for one, two, three, seven, ten years? Such is no longer human wrath but fiendish wrath from hell; it will not be satisfied nor extinguished, but when it once takes possession of a man he would, if able, destroy everything in a moment with his hellish fire. Even so the arch-fiend is not satisfied with having cast the whole human race into sin and death, but will not rest content unless he can drag all human beings into eternal damnation. 30. A Christian therefore has ample cause to carefully guard against this vice. God may have patience with you when wrath wells up in your heart--although that, too, is sinful--but take heed that wrath does not overcome you and cause you to fall. Rather take serious counsel with yourself and extinguish and expel your anger by applying passages of Holy Writ and calling upon your faith. When alone or about to retire, repeat the Lord's Prayer, ask for forgiveness and confess that God daily forgives you much oftener than your neighbor sins against you. "Neither give place to the devil. Let him that stole steal no more: but rather let him labor, working with his hands the thing that is good, that he may have whereof to give to him that hath need." 31. This thought is brought out also in the next Epistle, namely, that a Christian should guard against giving offense to anybody by his life, lest God's name be blasphemed. It is a grand thing to be a Christian, who, as has been stated, is a new man created after God and a true image of God, wherein God himself desires to be reflected. Therefore, whatever of good a Christian does, or whatever of evil he does, under the name of a Christian, either honors or disgraces God's name. Now, says Paul, whenever you follow your lusts, in obedience to your old Adam, you do naught but give occasion to the slanderers--the devil and his troop--to blaspheme the name of God. For the devil, even without your assistance, at all times seeks opportunity--nor can he desist--to befoul our dear Gospel and the name of God with his slanderous tales, composed, if need be, entirely of lies. But where he finds the semblance of occasion he knows how to profit by it. He will then open his mouth wide and cry: Behold, these are your Gospel people! Here you have the fruits of this new doctrine! Is their Christ such a one as they honor by their lives? 32. So then a Christian should be exceedingly careful and cautious for this reason, if for no other: to protect the name and honor of his dear God and Saviour and not to do the devil the favor of letting him whet his slanderous tongue on Christ's name. How shall we stand and answer in his sight when we cannot deny the fact that our life gives just cause for complaint and offense? By such a life we intentionally bring disgrace and shame upon God's name and Word, which things should be our highest treasures and most valuable possessions. 33. When the apostle says, "Let him that stole steal no more: but rather let him labor, working with his hands the thing that is good, that he may have whereof to give to him that hath need," he indicates the true fruit of repentance, which consists in abandoning and utterly abstaining from evil and in doing good. He at the same time attacks and reproves the sin of theft so common in all walks of life. And them who idle away their time and neglect their duty of serving and helping their fellow-beings, he calls--and rightfully--thieves in God's sight. 34. For the right interpretation of the commandment, Thou shalt not steal, is this: Thou shalt live of thine own work, that thou mayest have to give to the needy. This is your bounden duty, and if you do not so God will pronounce you not a Christian but a thief and robber. In the first place, because you are an idler and do not support yourself, but live by the sweat and toil of others; in the second place, because you withhold from your neighbor what you plainly owe him. Where now shall we find those who keep this commandment? Indeed, where should we dare look for them except where no people live? But such a class of people should Christians be. Therefore, let each of us beware lest he deceive himself; for God will not be mocked nor deceived. Gal 6, 7. _Twentieth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Ephesians 5, 15-21. 15 Look therefore carefully how ye walk [See then that ye walk circumspectly], not as unwise, but as wise; 16 redeeming the time, because the days are evil. 17 Wherefore be ye not foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. 18 And be not drunken with wine, wherein is riot, but be filled with the Spirit; 19 speaking one to another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody with your heart to the Lord; 20 giving thanks always for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father; 21 subjecting yourselves one to another in the fear of Christ. THE CAREFUL WALK OF THE CHRISTIAN. 1. Paul's admonition here is designed for those who, having heard the Gospel and made a fine start in believing, immediately imagine themselves secure and think they have accomplished all. Forgetful that they are still flesh and blood, and in the world and in contact with the devil's kingdom, they live in unconcern, as if delivered from all danger, and the devil far fled. By the very reason of their security they are overcome of the devil and their own flesh, and fall unawares from the Gospel. They have just enough connection with it to be able to prate of it, boasting themselves Christians but giving no indication of the fact in their conduct. 2. Paul would tell them how, in view of these things, vigilance is essential to the Christian life. To regulate the life by keeping God's will ever before the eyes, always conforming the conduct to it--this he calls walking circumspectly and being wise. If you for a moment lose sight of God's will, the devil immediately possesses you and works pernicious results, transforming a Christian into an indolent, self-secure hypocrite; a hypocrite into a heretic and factionist; and a heretic into an open enemy. So the apostle here teaches that in all seriousness if we would secure ourselves against the craft and power of the devil we must be vigilant; we must be careful how we walk. In Satan we have an enemy bent on hindering us; on undermining our very foundation. 3. Consequently they who fail to keep earnest watch over their Christian life--that is, to have a care for soundness of belief and to gladly hear and obey the Word of God--are unwise, even foolish, and have no knowledge of God's will. They have removed the light from before their eyes to behold instead a thing of their own imagination. They see as through a painted glass, presuming they do well in following such phantoms of their reason, until they are misled and defeated of the devil. THE WORD, THE GUIDE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 4. Therefore, not without reason does Paul warn Christians to be always wise and circumspect--to keep the Word of God before them. Upon so doing depends their wisdom and understanding. Let each one make it a matter of personal concern, and especially should it be the general interest of the congregation. Where care is not observed to retain the Word in the Church, but there are admitted to the pulpit brawlers who set forth their own fraudulent doctrines, the Church is injured; the congregation will soon be as the preacher. Again, if the individual fails to regulate his daily life--the affairs of his calling--by the Word of God; if he forgets the Word and absorbs himself in accumulating wealth; if he is tangled with secular interests, he soon becomes a cold and indolent Christian, then an erring soul, and finally utterly disregards God's will and his Word. It is for these reasons God so frequently commands us in the Scriptures continually to explain and apply his Word, to hear it willingly and practice it faithfully, and to meditate upon it day and night. He would have our lives emanate from the Word in honor to God and gratitude to him--from the Word wherein we daily look as in a mirror. But care and diligence are necessary to bring it to pass, and we should faithfully assist each other by instruction, advice, and in other ways. 5. In my admonitions I have often enough urged those who have influence, to use all diligence in drawing the young to school, where they may receive proper instruction to become pastors and preachers; and I have earnestly advised that in cases of necessity ample financial provision be made for students. But, alas, few communities, few States, are interested in the matter. In all Germany, look at the bishops, princes, noblemen, the inhabitants of town and country--how confidently they go on sleeping and snoring in their indifference to the question. They presume to think there is no need for action; the matter will adjust itself; there will always be pastors and preachers. But assuredly they deceive themselves if they think they are consulting their best interests in this affair; for they will, as the text says, become foolish and fail to recognize the will of God. Therefore they will some day have to experience what they do not now believe: in a few years after our day they will seek preachers and find none; they will have to hear rude, illiterate dolts who, lacking understanding of the Word of God, will, like all stupid Papists, preach the vile, offensive things of the Pope, about consecrated water and salt, about gray gowns, new monasteries and the like. 6. Cry, preach and admonish as we will, no one will hear; foreseeing which, Paul prophesies that they who observe not God's will, become unwise, foolish, and consequently waste the day of grace and neglect their salvation. Now, it is God's will we should sanctify his name, love and advance his Word, and so aid in building up his kingdom. When we fulfill his will in these things, he will regard our desires, providing us with daily bread and granting peace and happiness. 7. Now, it should be our chief concern to preserve to ourselves the Word and will of God. That would truly be wisdom, and redeeming the time. But failing therein, it must be with us as with the unwise and fools; we will have to hear the declaration: "Since you refuse to sanctify my name, to advance my kingdom and to do my will, neither will I provide you daily bread, nor forgive your sins, nor keep from temptation and deliver from evil." God will then permit us to deplore the great calamities of the world--its turmoil and wickedness, the cause whereof the world attributes to the Gospel. But the punishment just mentioned must be visited upon them who will not recognize the will of God and submit to it. These, however, desire to justify themselves and are unwilling to receive censure for having conducted themselves unwisely, even foolishly. 8. So much for a general observation upon the expression "walking wisely and circumspectly"; so much upon unwise conduct in regard to matters of vital importance to the Church, which have to do with the office of the ministry and with God's Word. Where the ministry and the Word of God are preserved, there will always be some among the masses to attend upon the preaching of the Word and to conform their lives to it. But when the Bible leaves the pulpit, little good will be accomplished, even though one here and there be able to read the Scriptures for themselves and imagine they have no need of the preached Word. Where will the untaught masses stand? Note how it has been with the poor people in our time who were misled by Münzer and Munster, and their prophets and factionists. PUBLIC PREACHING OF THE WORD ENJOINED. Then let everyone lend earnest effort to promote public preaching of the Word everywhere, and public attendance upon that preaching; and thus rightly to found and build up the Church. Let him also put on the wedding garment himself (mentioned in the Gospel for today); let him take care to be found an earnest advocate of the Word of God, uninfluenced by thoughts common to the secure spirit: "Oh, there are pastors and preachers enough for me. I can hear or read the Word when I please; have access to it any day. I must give first attention to bread-winning and like things. Let others look out for themselves." Take care, my dear sir; you can easily fail by carelessness here and be found without the wedding garment, perhaps may die without it, unaware how you are being deceived. Whose fault will it be but your own since you would not hear Paul's admonition to walk wisely and circumspectly? 9. We should make provision while the opportunity is at our doors, for, judging from the present course of the world, it will not long retain what it has. Everywhere men are diligently helping to hunt down ministers, or at least to so bring to bear upon them hunger and poverty, to so oppose them with secret fraud, as to drive them from the land. And little trouble and labor will be required to accomplish it. We shall only too soon be rid of our ministers and have their places amply supplied by deceivers. I would much rather suffer in hell with Judas the Betrayer than to bear the guilt of accomplishing one minister's death or of being instrumental in offering place to one deceiver. For it would not be so intolerable to suffer the anguish of the betrayer of Christ as to endure that of one who, by his sin in this respect, is responsible for the loss of countless souls. NECESSITY OF IMPROVING THE TIME. 10. Paul goes on to elaborate his admonition by explaining what it is to walk circumspectly and wisely--to "redeem the time, because the days are evil." In other words: Think not happy days are in store for you and you may defer duty till better times; better times will never be. The devil is always in the world to hinder your every effort to do good, and his opposition increases with time. The longer you tarry, the less your power to accomplish good; wasted time only makes matters worse. Then redeem the time; grasp your opportunities as best you can. Let no interest be so dear to you as the promotion of God's kingdom and the serving of the public in every good and useful way possible, whatever befall yourself. 11. Christ in like manner says to the Jews: "While ye have the light, believe on the light, that ye may become sons of light." Jn 12, 36. And Paul, after quoting from Isaiah 49, 8, adds: "Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation." 2 Cor 6, 2. So his counsel in our text means: Take heed you receive not the grace of God in vain. Or, neglect not the matter of your salvation; enjoy while you may the opportunity of furthering the kingdom of God, for the sake of your own and others' salvation. Defer not the thing to another time, lest the opportunity escape you. Elsewhere (Gal 6, 10) the apostle says, "As we have opportunity, let us work that which is good." In other words: Act now, while you may. Your time passes with astonishing rapidity. Be not deceived, then, by the thought, "Oh, I can attend to the matter a year from now--two years--three." That is simply foolish. It is an unwise conclusion of the thoughtless. Before they are aware, they have lost the salvation extended them. They defer to consider God's will, putting it off for a season, until they shall have accomplished their own aims; then they have deferred too long. 12. The Lord comes to your door. You do not have to seek him. If you are grateful he tarries to speak with you. But if you let him pass by you will have to complain as did the bride in Song of Solomon 5, 6: "I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone ... I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer." Think not you will find the Lord when he has once gone, though you traverse the world. But while he is near you may seek and find; as Isaiah says (ch. 55, 6), "Seek ye Jehovah while he may be found." If through your neglect he pass by, all seeking then will be vain. For more than twenty years in my cloister I experienced the meaning of such disappointment. I sought God with great toil and with severe mortification of the body, fasting, watching, singing and praying. In this way I shamefully wasted my time and found not the Lord. The more I sought and the nearer I thought I was to him, the farther away I got. No, God does not permit us to find him so. He must first come and seek us where we are. We may not pursue and overtake him. That is not his will. 13. Then be careful to avail yourself of the present opportunity. Embrace it while he is near, and faithfully consider what he requires of you. To ascertain this, go to the Creed and the Ten Commandments. They will tell you. Regulate your life by them. Be helped by the Lord's Prayer. Begin with yourself; then pray for the Church. Let it be your desire that God's name be everywhere sanctified and that your life conform to his will. If you are faithful in these things, assuredly you will walk wisely; you will avoid sin and do good. For the study and practice of these precepts will leave you no opportunity to do evil. God's Word will soon teach you to sanctify his name, to extend his kingdom, to do your neighbor no injury in mind, body or estate. 14. Observe this is "redeeming the time." This is employing it well, while the golden days last in which we have remission from pain and sin. Not such remission as the Pope grants in his jubilees, wherein he deceives the world. Right here let us be careful not to cheat ourselves with the false idea that salvation cannot escape us. Let it not be with us as befell the children of Israel, of whom it is said in Psalms 95, 11 and Hebrews 4, 3 that because of their unbelief they entered not into the rest of God. They would not accept their opportunity in the forty years wherein he gave them his Word and showed them his wonders, daily admonishing them and calling to repentance and faith. They but tempted and provoked him the more. Hence another admonition was given the people of God and a certain day appointed: "Today if ye shall hear his voice, harden not your hearts." Heb 4, 7. Every day with us is "today" and we are permitted to hear God's voice still imploring us not to waste the time. 15. Surely we ought supremely to thank God, as the latter part of our text enjoins, for the great blessing of his nearness to us. We have his presence in our homes. He is with us at our board, by our couch--anywhere we desire him. He offers us all assistance and grants all we may ask. So gracious a guest should indeed receive our high esteem. We ought to honor him while he is with us. 16. Well may we pray, as I have said. There is too much slumbering everywhere in Germany. We cannot perceive how it is possible to preserve the Gospel and fill the pulpits for ten years longer. To such extent does wickedness rage in the world that blindness and error must sweep it as before. And no one will be to blame but the stupid bishops and princes, and those of us who esteem not the Word of God. INGRATITUDE WILL BE PUNISHED. Alas, that I am compelled against my will to be a prophet of ill to Germany. Yet it is not I, but the prayer of my Lord and your Lord; for according to its teachings he will say: "You neglected my Word. Unwilling to tolerate it, you persecuted and starved out its messengers. Therefore I will withhold your daily bread and give instead famine and war and murder, unto utter desolation; for you wish to have it so. Then when you cry for forgiveness of sins and deliverance from the evils come upon you, I will hear you as you heard my Word, my entreaties. I will leave you in your misfortunes as you left me and my Word." 17. In fact, no one for a moment thinks of how God has signally, richly and graciously blessed us; how we are in possession of actual paradise--yes, the entire kingdom of heaven--if we only recognized the fact: and yet we shamefully, ungratefully and unreasonably reject the kingdom; as if it were not enough for us to overstep the Ten Commandments in our disobedience, but must even trample under foot the mercy God offers in the Gospel. Then why should we be surprised if he send down wrath upon us? What else is he to do but fulfill our Gospel passage for today, which threatens every individual rejecter and persecutor of God's Son and his servants, by whom we are invited to the marriage--what else is God to do but send out a divine army of servants to arrest the career of such murderers and to terminate their existence? We are given a special illustration--an example to the world--in the instance of the fate of Jerusalem, and in fact of the entire Jewish nation. They sinned unceasingly against all God's commandments, and when he proclaimed grace and offered forgiveness of sins, they trampled upon his mercy. Should Christ not revenge himself when they shamed and mocked his precious blood? 18. Unto all the abominable sins mentioned, we must heap blasphemies; for when wrath and punishment come upon us we make outcry, complaining that the Gospel--or the new doctrine, as it is now called--is responsible. The Jews blame us Christians alone for the fact that they are scattered throughout the world. Their prayers day and night are directed against us, in blasphemies and reproaches inexpressible. Nevertheless, it was not the Christians who harassed and scattered them, but the heathenish Roman emperor. But whom other than themselves have the Jews to blame for their condition? for they would not tolerate Christ, when he brought them only help and boundless grace. Refusing to accept him whom God gave and in whom he promised all blessings, they necessarily lost their daily bread from God, except as they rebelliously extort it by usury and wickedness. They had also to suffer the loss of their national life, their priesthood and public worship, forgiveness of sins and redemption, and so remain eternally captive under the wrath and condemnation of God. Such is the just and inevitable punishment of the unwise--the foolish--who refused to recognize their opportunity when Christ was with them. 19. With this terrible example before our eyes, we are still unrepentant, pursuing the same course the Jews followed, not only in disobedience to the will of God, but in rejecting his grace. For that grace we should earnestly long and pray, striving to secure to our children after us baptism, the ministry and the sacrament, in their purity. In return for our perversity, it will eventually be with us as with the Jews and other ungrateful persecutors and rejecters. 20. Then let him who will receive advice and help, faithfully heed Paul's counsel and redeem the time, not sleeping away the blessed golden hour of grace; as Christ earnestly admonishes in the parable of the five foolish virgins. Mt 25, 13. The foolish virgins might have made their purchases in season, before the bridegroom's arrival; but failing to attend to the matter until time to meet the bridegroom, they missed both the market and the wedding. 21. The ancient poets and sages make use of a similar illustration at the expense of the cricket or grasshopper. As the fable runs, when winter came the grasshoppers, having nothing to eat, went to the ants and asked them to divide their gathered store. "What did you in the summer time that you gathered nothing?" asked the ants. "We sang," the grasshoppers replied. "If you sang in the summer, you must dance for it in the winter," was the response. Similarly should fools unwilling to learn the will of God be answered. Terrible and alarming is the wrath of God when with scorn and mockery he turns away a soul. In Proverbs 1, 24 and 26 he threatens: "Because I have called, and ye have refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man hath regarded.... I also will laugh in the day of your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh." 22. Some may ask what Paul means by adding to the phrase, "Redeeming the time," the modifier, "because the days are evil"; if we are to regard the present opportunity golden, why are the days evil? EVIL DOCTRINES EVER OPPOSE THE CHRISTIAN. 23. I answer: The time is unquestionably good so long as the Gospel is sounded--is faithfully preached and received. At the same time, even today the world is filled with evils, factions, false theories and bad examples of every sort; much of this wickedness is inherent in ourselves. With these things the Christian must always contend; the devil pursues, and our own flesh discourages us and allures from recognition and observance of the divine will. If we strive not against it, we shall soon lose sight of God's will, to our own injury, even while listening to the Gospel. For the devil's strongest fury is exerted to befoul the world with fanaticism, and to draw from the pure doctrine of faith into that evil even them who possess the Gospel. Moreover, being still flesh and blood we are always self-secure, unwilling to be led by the Spirit, and indolent and unresponsive in relation to the Word of God and to prayer. Again, in the outward walks of life, in temporal conditions, only obstacles and evils meet us everywhere, impeding our spiritual progress and impelling us to suppress the Gospel and to rend the Church. 24. Let no one, then, expect to enjoy an era of peace and pleasure here on earth. Although the present time is in itself good, and God bestows upon us the golden year of his Word and his grace, yet the devil is here with his factions and followers, and our own flesh supports him. He corrupts the blessed days of grace at every possible opportunity, and so oppresses Christians that they must contend against him with their utmost strength and vigilance if they would not, through the influence of evils and obstacles, be wrested from the Gospel they have received, and if they would persevere therein unto the end. Wherefore, we have the best reasons to adapt ourselves to the present time in the best possible way; to walk wisely and circumspectly, showing all faithfulness to the will of God; obeying it while we have opportunity--while still in possession of God's Word, his grace and his Spirit. Being opposed and obstructed by the devil and our own flesh, we must, as Paul implies, be wise and careful; we must guard against following them. If we fail in this respect, it will not avail us to pretend we did not know our duty, or had not time to perform it and consequently could not cope with them. So, then, we are to understand by "evil days" the allurements that lead us away from God's Word and his will. "And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess." 25. The apostle touches upon several evils strongly tending to waste of time and neglect of the golden opportunity. Especially is drunkenness one, for drink makes men particularly self-secure, reckless and disorderly. The evil was formerly common in Greece, and in Germany today are men who delight in being riotously drunk night and day. Such individuals are utterly lacking in the faithfulness and interest essential to following the will of God. They are unable, even in temporal affairs, to persistently apply themselves, much less to be opportune. Indeed, so beastly and swinish do they become, they lose all sense of either shame or honor; they have no modesty nor any human feeling. Alas, examples are before our eyes plainer and more numerous than we can depict. 26. Paul's words of admonition, "Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs," are treated in the epistle passage for the fifth Sunday after Epiphany, where the text is similar. _Twenty First Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Ephesians 6, 10-17. 10 Finally, be strong in the Lord, and in the strength of his might. 11 Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. 12 For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the worldrulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. 13 Wherefore take up the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and, having done all, to stand. 14 Stand therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, 15 and having shod your foot with the preparation of the gospel of peace; 16 withal taking up the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the evil one. 17 And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. THE CHRISTIAN ARMOR AND WEAPONS. This epistle text is fully expounded in "The Explanations and Sermons on Paul's Epistles"--in the sermon on Ephesians 6, 10-17, entitled "The Christian Armor and Weapons," preached in the year 1533. _Twenty Second Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Philippians 1, 3-11. 3 I thank my God upon all my remembrance of you, 4 always in every supplication of mine on behalf of you all making my supplication with joy, 5 for your fellowship in furtherance of the gospel from the first day until now; 6 being confident of this very thing, that he who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Jesus Christ: 7 even as it is right for me to be thus minded on behalf of you all, because I have you in my heart, inasmuch as, both in my bonds and in the defence and confirmation of the gospel, ye all are partakers with me of grace. 8 For God is my witness, how I long after you in all the tender mercies of Christ Jesus. 9 And this I pray, that your love may abound yet more and more in knowledge and all discernment; 10 so that ye may approve the things that are excellent; that ye may be sincere and void of offence unto the day of Christ; 11 being filled with the fruits of righteousness, which are through Jesus Christ, unto the glory and praise of God. PAUL'S THANKS AND PRAYERS FOR CHURCHES. 1. First, the apostle Paul thanks God, as his custom is in the beginning of his epistles, for the grace whereby the Philippians came into the fellowship of the Gospel and were made partakers of it. Secondly, his desire and prayer to God is for their increase in the knowledge of the Gospel, and their more abundant fruits. His intent in extolling the Gospel is to admonish them to remain steadfast in their faith, continuing as they have begun and as they now stand. Apparently this is a simple passage, especially to learned and apt students of the Scriptures. They may not think it holds any great truth to be discovered. Yet we must explain this and like discourses for the benefit of some who do not fully understand it, and who desire to learn. 2. These words give us an exact delineation of the Christian heart that sincerely believes in the holy Gospel. Such hearts are rare in the world. It is especially difficult to find one so beautiful as we observe here unless it be among the beloved apostles or those who approached them in Christ-likeness. For in the matter of faith we today are entirely too indolent and indifferent. 3. But the Christian heart is such as inspired Paul's words; here its characteristics are shown. He rejoices in the Gospel with his inmost soul. He thanks God that others have come into its fellowship. His confidence is firm regarding certain beginners in the faith, and he is so interested in their salvation he rejoices in it as much as in his own, seeming unable to thank God sufficiently for it. He unceasingly prays that he may live to see many come with him into such fellowship and be preserved therein until the day of the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall perfect and complete all the defects of this earthly life. He prays these beginners may go forth faultlessly in faith and hope until that joyful day. 4. Thus the godly apostle expresses himself, pouring out the depths of his heart--a heart filled with the real fruits of the Spirit and of faith. It burns with love and joy whenever he sees the Gospel recognized, accepted and honored, and the Church flourishing. Paul can conceive for the converts no loftier desire--can offer no greater petition for them than to implore God they may increase and persevere in the Gospel faith. Such is the inestimable value he places upon possessing and holding fast God's Word. And Christ in Luke 11, 28 pronounces blessed those who keep the Word of God. I. THE DUTY OF GRATITUDE. 5. Now, the first thing in which Paul is here an example to us is his gratitude. It behooves the Christian who recognizes the grace and goodness of God expressed in the Gospel, first of all to manifest his thankfulness therefor; toward God--his highest duty--and toward men. As Christians who have abandoned the false services and sacrifices that in our past heathenish blindness we zealously practiced, let us remember our obligation henceforth to be the more fervent in offering true service and right sacrifices to God. We can render him no better--in fact, none other--service, or outward work, than the thank-offering, as the Scriptures term it. That is, receiving and honoring the grace of God and the preaching and hearing of his Word, and furthering their operation, not only in word, but sincerely in our hearts and with all our physical and spiritual powers. This is the truest gratitude. 6. God calls that a "pure offering" which is rendered to him "among the gentiles" (Mal 1, 11), where his name is not preached and praised from avariciousness, not from pride and presumption in the priesthood and in the holiness of human works. These motives actuated the boasting Jews, who, as God charges in this reference, presumptuously thought to receive honor from him for every trivial service like closing a door or opening a window. But the offering of the gentiles is joyfully rendered from a sincere, willing heart. This kind of thanksgiving and sacrifices are acceptable to God, for he says in Psalms 110, 3, "Thy people shall be willing"; and in Second Corinthians 9, 7, "God loveth a cheerful giver." The knowledge of the Gospel should inspire us with gratitude of this order. Let us not be found unthankful, and forgetful of God's infinite goodness. INGRATITUDE DENOUNCED BY THE HEATHEN. 7. The heathen everywhere, despite their ignorance of God and his grace, condemned to the utmost the evil of ingratitude. They regarded it the mother of evils, than which was none more malevolent and shameful. Among many examples in this respect is one left us by a people in Arabia called Nabathians, who had an excellent form of government. So strict were they in regard to this evil that anyone found guilty of ingratitude to his fellows was looked upon as a murderer and punished with death. 8. No sin is more abominable to human nature, and of none is human nature less tolerant. It is easier to forgive and to forget the act of an enemy who commits a bodily injury, or even murders one's parents, than it is to forget the sin of him who repays simple kindness and fidelity with ingratitude and faithlessness; who for love and friendship returns hatred. In the sentiment of the Latin proverb, to be so rewarded is like rearing a serpent in one's bosom. God likewise regards this sin with extreme enmity and punishes it. The Scriptures say: "Whoso rewardeth evil for good, evil shall not depart from his house." Prov 17, 13. 9. Thus we have the teaching of nature and of reason regarding the sin of men's ingratitude toward one another. How much greater the evil, how much more shameful and accursed, when manifested toward God who, in his infinite and ineffable goodness, conferred upon us while yet enemies to him and deserving of the fires of hell--conferred upon us, I say, not ten dollars, not a hundred thousand dollars even, but redemption from divine wrath and eternal death, and abundantly comforted us, granting us safety, a good conscience, peace and salvation! These are inexpressible blessings, incomprehensible in this life. And they will continue to occupy our minds in yonder eternal life. How much more awful the sin of ingratitude for these blessings, as exemplified in the servant mentioned in the Gospel passage for today, to whom was forgiven the debt of ten thousand talents and who yet would not forgive the debt of his fellow-servant who owed him a hundred pence! 10. Is it not incredible that there are to be found on earth individuals wicked enough to manifest for the highest and eternal blessings such unspeakable ingratitude? But alas, we have the evidence of our own eyes. We know them in their very dwelling-places. We see how the world abounds with them. Not only are the ingrates to be found among deliberate rejecters of the acknowledged truth of the Gospel, concerning God's grace, an assured conscience and the promise of eternal life, terrible as such malice of the devil is, but they are present also in our midst, accepting the Gospel and boasting of it. Such shameful ingratitude prevails among the masses it would not be strange were God to send upon them the thunders and lightnings of his wrath, yes, all the Turks and the devils of hell. There is a generally prevalent ingratitude like that of the wicked servant who readily forgot the straits he experienced when, being called to account for what he could not pay, the wrathful sentence was pronounced against him that he and all he possessed must be sold, and he be indefinitely imprisoned. Nor have we less readily forgotten how we were tortured under the Papacy; how we were overwhelmed, drowned as in a flood, with numberless strange doctrines, when our anxious consciences longed for salvation. Now that we are, through the grace of God, liberated from these distresses, our gratitude is of a character to increasingly heap to ourselves the wrath of God. So have others before us done, and consequently have endured terrible chastisement. 11. Only calculate the enormity of our wickedness when, God having infinitely blessed us in forgiving all our sins and making us lords over heaven and earth, we so little respect him as to be unmindful of his blessings; to be unwilling for the sake of them sincerely to forgive our neighbor a single slighting word, not to mention rendering him service. We conduct ourselves as if God might be expected to connive at our ingratitude and permit us to continue in it, at the same time conferring upon us as godly and obedient children, success and happiness. More than this, we think we have the privilege and power to live and do as we please. Indeed, the more learning and power we have and the more exalted our rank, the greater knaves we are; perpetrating every wicked deed, stirring up strife, discord, war and murder for the sake of executing our own arbitrary designs, where the question is the surrender of a penny in recognition of the hundreds of thousands of dollars daily received from God notwithstanding our ingratitude. 12. Two mighty lords clash with each other like powerful battering rams, and for what? Perhaps for undisputed possession of a city or two, a matter they must be ashamed of did they but call to mind what they have received from God. They would be constrained to exclaim: "What are we doing that we injure one another--we who are all baptized in one name, the name of Christ, and pledged to one Lord?" But no, it will not do for them to consider this matter; not even to think of it. They must turn their eyes away from it, and put it far from their hearts. Wholly forgetting God's benefits, they must wage war against each other, involving nations, and subjecting people to the Turk. And all for sake of the insignificant farthing each refused to yield to the other. 13. The world permits the very devil to saddle and ride it as he pleases. It seems to be characteristic of every phase of life that one will not yield to another--will not submit to any demand. Everyone is disposed to force his arrogant authority. The presumption is that supreme honor and final success depend upon an unyielding, unforgiving disposition, and that to seek to retain our possessions by peaceable means will prove our ruin. Even the two remaining cows in the stall must be brought into requisition, and war waged to the last stick, until when the mutineer comes and we have neither cow nor stall, nor house nor stick, we are obliged to cease. RETRIBUTION FOLLOWS INGRATITUDE. Oh, had we but grace enough to reflect on how it would be with us did God require us, as he has a perfect right to do, to pay our whole indebtedness, none being forgiven! grace enough to think whether we would not this very moment be in the abyss of hell! But so must it finally be with those who disregard the question and continually heap to themselves the wrath of God, being at the same time unwilling for him to deal otherwise with them than he did with the servant he forgave. But against that servant was finally passed the irrevocable sentence which, without mercy, delivered him to the tormentor till he should pay the debt, something he could never do. 14. Nor is there any wrong or injustice in this ruling. For, as St. Bernhard says, ingratitude is an evil damnable and pernicious enough to quench all the springs of grace and blessing known to God and men; it is like a poison-laden, burning, destructive wind. Human nature will not tolerate it. Nor can God permit you, upon whom he has bestowed all grace and goodness, all spiritual and temporal blessing, to go on continually in wickedness, defiantly abusing his benevolence and dishonoring him; you thus recklessly bring upon yourself his wrath. For God cannot bless you if you are ungrateful, if you reject his goodness and give it no place in your heart. In such case the fountain of grace and mercy that continually springs for all who sincerely desire it, must be quenched for you. You cannot enjoy it. It would afford you an abundant and unceasing supply of water did you not yourself dry it up by the deadly wind of your ingratitude; by shamefully forgetting the ineffable goodness God bestows upon you; and by failing to honor the blood of Christ the Lord, wherewith he purchased us and reconciled us to God--failing to honor it enough to forgive your neighbor, for Christ's sake, a single wrong word. 15. What heavy burden is there for the individual who, in submission and gratitude to his God, and in honor to Christ, would conduct himself something like a Christian? It will cost him no great effort nor trouble. It will not break any bones nor injure him in property or honor. Even were it to affect him to some trifling extent, to incur for him some slight injustice, he should remember what God has given him, and will still give, of his grace and goodness. Yes, why complain even were you, in some measure, to endanger body and life? What did not the Son of God incur for you? It was not pleasure for him to take upon himself the wrath of God, to bear the curse for you. It cost him bloody sweat and unspeakable anguish of heart, as well as the sacrifice of his body, the shedding of his blood, when he bore for you the wrath and curse of God, which would have rested upon you forever. Yet he did it cheerfully and with fervent love. Should you not, then, be ashamed in your own heart, and humiliated before all creatures, to be so slow and dull, so stock-and-stone-hardened, about enduring and forgiving an occasional unkind word--something to be suffered in token of honor and gratitude to him? What more noble than, for the sake of Christ, to incur danger, to suffer injury, to aid the poor and needy? in particular to further the Word of God and to support the ministry, the pulpit and the schools? 16. It would be no marvel had Germany long ago sunk to ruin, or had it been razed to its very foundations by Turks and Tartars, because of its diabolical forgetfulness, its damnable rejection, of God's unspeakable grace. Indeed, it is a wonder the earth continues to support us and the sun still gives us light. Because of our ingratitude, well might the heavens become dark and the earth be perverted--as the Scriptures teach (Ps 106)--and suffer the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah, no longer yielding a leaf nor a blade of grass, but completely turned from its course--well might it be so did not God, for the sake of the few godly Christians known and acknowledged of him, forbear and still delay. EXAMPLES OF INGRATITUDE FOR THE GOSPEL. 17. Wherever we turn our eyes we see, in all conditions of life, a deluge of terrible examples of ingratitude for the precious Gospel. We see how kings, princes and lords scratch and bite; how they envy and hate one another, oppressing their own people and destroying their own countries; how they tax themselves with not so much as a single Christian thought about ameliorating the wretchedness of Germany and securing for the oppressed Church somewhere a shelter of defense against the murderous attacks of devil, Pope and Turks. The noblemen rake and rend, robbing whomever they can, prince or otherwise, and especially the poor Church; like actual devils, they trample under foot pastors and preachers. Townsmen and farmers, too, are extremely avaricious, extortionate and treacherous; they fearlessly perpetrate every sort of insolence and wickedness, and without shame and unpunished. The earth cries to heaven, unable longer to tolerate its oppression. 18. But why multiply words? It is in vain so far as the world is concerned; no admonition will avail. The world remains the devil's own. We must remember we shall not by any means find with the world that Christian heart pictured by the apostle; on the contrary we shall find what might be represented by a picture of the very opposite type--the most shameless ingratitude. But let the still existing God-fearing Christians be careful to imitate in their gratitude the spirit of the apostle's beautiful picture. Let them give evidence of their willingness to hear the Word of God, of pleasure and delight in it and grief where it is rejected. Let them show by their lives a consciousness of the great blessing conferred by those from whom they received the Gospel. As recipients of such goodness, let their hearts and lips ever be ready with the happy declaration: "God be praised!" For thereunto are we called. As before said, praise should be the constant service and daily sacrifice of Christians; and according to Paul's teaching here, the Christian's works, his fruits of righteousness, should shine before men. Such manifestation of gratitude assuredly must result when we comprehend what God has given us. 19. Notwithstanding the world's refusal to be influenced by the recognition of God's goodness, and in spite of the fact that we are obliged daily to see, hear and suffer the world's increasing ungratefulness the longer it stands, we must not allow ourselves to be led into error; for we will be unable to change it. We must preach against the evil of ingratitude wherever possible, severely censuring it, and faithfully admonish all men to guard against it. At the same time we have to remember the world will not submit. Although compelled to live among the ungrateful, we are not for that reason to fall into error nor to cease from doing good. Let our springs be dispersed abroad, as Solomon says in Proverbs 5, 16. Let us continually do good, not faltering when others receive our good as evil. Just as God causes his sun to rise on the thankful and the unthankful. Mt 5, 45. 20. But if your good works are wrought with the object of securing the thanks and applause of the world, you will meet with a reception quite the reverse. Your reward will justly be that of him who crushes with his teeth the hollow nut only to defile his mouth. Now, if when ingratitude is met with, you angrily wish to pull down mountains, and resolve to give up doing good, you are no longer a Christian. You injure yourself and accomplish nothing. Can you not be mindful of your environment--that you are still in the world where vice and ingratitude hold sway? that you are, as the phrase goes, with "those who return evil for good"? He who would escape this fact must flee the boundaries of the world. It requires no great wisdom to live only among the godly and do good, but the keenest judgment is necessary to live with the wicked and not do evil. 21. Christianity should be begun in youth, to give practice in the endurance that will enable one to do good to all men while expecting evil in return. Not that the Christian is to commend and approve evil conduct; he is to censure and restrain wickedness to the limit of the authority his position in life affords. It is the best testimony to the real merit of a work when its beneficiaries are not only ungrateful but return evil. For its results tend to restrain the doer from a too high opinion of himself, and the character of the work is too precious in God's sight for the world to be worthy of rewarding it. II. THE DUTY OF PRAYER. 22. The other Christian duty named by Paul in this passage is that of prayer. The two obligations--gratitude for benefits received, and prayer for the preservation and growth of God's work begun in us--are properly related. Prayer is of supreme importance, for the devil and the world assail us and delight in turning us aside; we have continually to resist wickedness. So the conflict is a sore one for our feeble flesh and blood, and we cannot stand unvanquished unless there be constant, earnest invocation of divine aid. Gratitude and prayer are essential and must accompany each other, according to the requirements of the daily sacrifice of the Old Testament: the offering of praise, or thank-offering, thanks to God for blessings received; and the sacrifice of prayer, or the Lord's Prayer--the petition against the wickedness and evil from which we would be released. 23. Our life has not yet reached the heights it is destined to attain. We know here only its incipient first-fruits. Desire is not satisfied; we have but a foretaste. As yet we only realize by faith what is bestowed upon us; full and tangible occupancy is to come. Therefore, we need to pray because of the limitations that bind our earthly life, until we go yonder where prayer is unnecessary, and all is happiness, purity of life and one eternal song of thanks and praise to God. But heavenly praise and joy is to have its inception and a measure of growth here on earth through the encouragement of prayer--prayer for ourselves and the Church as a whole; that is, for them who have accepted and believe the Gospel and are thus mutually helpful. For the Gospel will receive greater exaltation and will inspire more joy with the individual because of its acceptance by the many. So Paul says he thanks God for the fellowship of the Philippians in the Gospel, and offers prayer in their behalf. PRAYER FOR OTHERS. 24. Yes, it should be the joy of a Christian heart to see multitudes accept the offer of mercy, and praise and thank God with him. This desire for the participation of others in the Gospel promotes the spirit of prayer. The Christian cannot be a misanthrope, wholly unconcerned whether his fellows believe or not. He should be interested in all men and unceasingly long and pray for their salvation; for the sanctification of God's name, the coming of his kingdom, the fulfilment of his will; and for the exposure everywhere of the devil's deceptions, the suppression of his murderous power over poor souls and the restraint of his authority. 25. This prayer should be the sincere, earnest outflow of the true Christian's heart. Note, Paul's words here indicate that his praise and prayer were inspired by a fervent spirit. It is impossible that the words "I thank my God upon all my remembrance of you, always in every supplication" be the expression of any but a heart full of such sentiments. Truly, Paul speaks in a way worthy of an apostle--saying he renders praise and prayer with keenest pleasure. He rejoices in his heart that he has somewhere a little band of Christians who love the Gospel and with whom he may rejoice; that he may thank God for them and pray in their behalf. Was there not much more reason that all they who had heard the Gospel should rejoice, and thank Paul in heart and in expression for it, praying God in his behalf? should rejoice that they became worthy of the apostle's favor, were delivered from their blindness and had now received from him the light transferring from sin and death into the grace of God and eternal life? 26. But Paul does not wait for them to take the initiative, as they ought to have done to declare their joy and their gratitude to him. In his first utterance he pours out the joy of his heart, fervently thanking God for them, etc. Well might they have blushed, and reproached themselves, when they received the epistle beginning with these words. Well might they have said, "We should not have permitted him to speak in this way; it was our place first to show him gratitude and joy." FEW BELIEVERS NO REASON FOR DISCOURAGEMENT. 27. We shall not soon be able to boast the attainment of that beautiful, perfect Christian spirit the apostle's words portray. Seeing how the apostle rejoices over finding a few believers in the Gospel, why should we complain because of the smaller number who accord us a hearing and seriously accept the Word of God? We have no great reason to complain nor to be discouraged since Christ and the prophets and apostles, meeting with the same backwardness on the part of the people, still were gratified over the occasional few who accepted the faith. We note how Christ rejoiced when now and then he found one who had true faith, and on the other hand was depressed when his own people refused to hear him, and reluctantly censured them. And Paul did not meet with more encouragement. In all the Roman Empire--and through the greater part of it he had traveled with the Gospel--he only occasionally found a place where was even a small band of earnest Christians; but over them he peculiarly rejoices, finding in them greater consolation than in all the treasures on earth. 28. But it is a prophecy of good to the world, a portent of ultimate success, that Christ and his apostles and ministers must rejoice over an occasional reception of the beloved Word. Such acceptance will tell in time. One would think all men might eagerly have hastened to the ends of the earth to be afforded an opportunity of hearing an apostle. But Paul had to go through the world himself upon his ministry, enduring great fatigue and encountering privations and grave dangers, being rejected and trampled upon by all men. However, disregarding it all, he rejoiced to be able now and then to see some soul accept the Gospel. In time past it was not necessary for the Pope and his officials to run after anyone. They sat in lordly authority in their kingdom, and all men had to obey their summons, wherever wanted, and that without thanks. 29. What running on the part of our fathers, even of many of us, as if we were foolish--running from all countries, hundreds of miles, to Jerusalem, to the holy sepulcher, to Compostella, St. James, Rome, to the heads of St. Peter and St. Paul; some barefooted and others in complete armor--all this, to say nothing of innumerable other pilgrimages! We thus expended large sums of money, and thanked God, and rejoiced to be able thereby to purchase the wicked indulgences of the Pope and to be worthy to look upon or to kiss the bones of the dead exhibited as holy relics, but preferably to kiss the feet of His Most Holy Holiness, the Pope. This condition of things the world desires again, and it shall have nothing better. _Twenty Third Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Philippians 3, 17-21. 17 Brethren, be ye imitators [followers] together of me, and mark them that so walk even as ye have us for an ensample. 18 For many walk, of whom I told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: 19 whose end is perdition, whose god is the belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things. 20 For our citizenship [conversation] is in heaven; whence also we wait for a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ: 21 who shall fashion anew the body of our humiliation [change our vile body], that it may be conformed [fashioned] to the body of his glory, according to the working whereby he is able even to subject all things unto himself. ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN'S CITIZENSHIP IN HEAVEN. 1. Paul immeasurably extols the Philippians for having made a good beginning in the holy Gospel and for having acquitted themselves commendably, like men in earnest, as manifest by their fruits of faith. The reason he shows this sincere and strong concern for them is his desire that they remain steadfast, not being led astray by false teachers among the roaming Jews. For at that time many Jews went about with the intent of perverting Paul's converts, pretending they taught something far better; while they drew the people away from Christ and back to the Law, for the purpose of establishing and extending their Jewish doctrines. Paul, contemplating with special interest and pleasure his Church of the Philippians, is moved by parental care to admonish them--lest they sometime be misled by such teachers--to hold steadily to what they have received, not seeking anything else and not imagining, like self-secure, besotted souls who allow themselves to be deceived by the devil--not imagining themselves perfect and with complete understanding in all things. In the verses just preceding our text he speaks of himself as having not yet attained to full knowledge. PURITY OF DOCTRINE ENJOINED. 2. He particularly admonishes them to follow him and to mark those ministers who walk as he does; also to shape their belief and conduct by the pattern they have received from him. Not only of himself does he make an example, but introduces them who similarly walk, several of whom he mentions in this letter to the Philippians. The individuals whom he bids them observe and follow must have been persons of special eminence. But it is particularly the doctrine the apostle would have the Philippians pattern after. Therefore we should be chiefly concerned about preserving the purity of the office of the ministry and the genuineness of faith. When these are kept unsullied, doctrine will be right, and good works spontaneous. Later on, in chapter 4, verse 8, Paul admonishes, with reference to the same subject: "If there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." 3. Apparently Paul is a rash man to dare boast himself a pattern for all. Other ministers might well accuse him of desiring to exalt his individual self above others. "Think you," our wise ones would say to him, "that you alone have the Holy Spirit, or that no one else is as eager for honor as yourself?" Just so did Miriam and Aaron murmur against Moses, their own brother, saying: "Hath Jehovah indeed spoken only with Moses? hath he not spoken also with us?" Num 12, 2. And it would seem as if Paul had too high an appreciation of his own character did he hold up his individual self as a pattern, intimating that no one was to be noted as worthy unless he walked as he did; though there might be some who apparently gave greater evidence of the Spirit, of holiness, humility and other graces, than himself, and yet walked not in his way. 4. But he does not say "I, Paul, alone." He says, "as ye have us for an example", that does not exclude other true apostles and teachers. He is admonishing his Church, as he everywhere does, to hold fast to the one true doctrine received from him in the beginning. They are not to be too confident of their own wisdom in the matter, or to presume they have independent authority; but rather to guard against pretenders to a superior doctrine, for so had some been misled. RIGHTEOUSNESS OF THE LAW IS VAIN. 5. In what respect he was a pattern or example to them, he has made plain; for instance, in the beginning of this chapter, in the third verse and following, he says: "For we are the circumcision, who worship by the Spirit of God, and glory in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh: though I myself might have confidence even in the flesh: if any other man thinketh to have confidence in the flesh, I yet more: circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews." That is, he commands the highest honor a Jew can boast. "As touching the law," he goes on, "a Pharisee; as touching zeal, persecuting the Church; as touching the righteousness which is in the law, found blameless. Howbeit what things were gain to me, these have I counted loss for Christ. Yea verily, and I count all things to be loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but refuse, that I may gain Christ, and be found in him, not having a righteousness of mine own, even that which is of the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith." 6. "Behold, this is the picture or pattern," he would say, "which we hold up for you to follow, that remembering how you obtained righteousness you may hold to it--a righteousness not of the Law." So far as the righteousness of the Law is concerned, Paul dares to say he regards it as filth and refuse (that proceeds from the human body); notwithstanding in its beautiful and blameless form it may be unsurpassed by anything in the world--such righteousness as was manifest in sincere Jews, and in Paul himself before his conversion; for these in their great holiness, regarded Christians as knaves and meriting damnation, and consequently took delight in being party to the persecution and murder of Christians. 7. "Yet," Paul would say, "I who am a Jew by birth have counted all this merit as simply loss that I might be found in 'the righteousness which is from God by faith'." Only the righteousness of faith teaches us how to apprehend God--how to confidently console ourselves with his grace and await a future life, expecting to approach Christ in the resurrection. By "approaching" him we mean to meet him in death and at the judgment day without terror, not fleeing but gladly drawing near and hailing him with joy as one waited for with intense longing. Now, the righteousness of the Law cannot effect such confidence of mind. Hence, for me it avails nothing before God; rather it is a detriment. What does avail is God's imputation of righteousness for Christ's sake, through faith. God declares to us in his Word that the believer in his Son shall, for Christ's own sake, have God's grace and eternal life. He who knows this is able to wait in hope for the last day, having no fear, no disposition to flee. 8. But is it not treating the righteousness of the Law with irreverence and contempt to regard it--and so teach--as something not only useless and even obstructive, but injurious, loathsome and abominable? Who would have been able to make such a bold statement, and to censure a life so faultless and conforming so closely to the Law as Paul's, without being pronounced by all men a minion of the devil, had not the apostle made that estimation of it himself? And who is to have any more respect for the righteousness of the Law if we are to preach in that strain? 9. Had Paul confined his denunciations to the righteousness of the world or of the heathen--the righteousness dependent upon reason and controlled by secular government, by laws and regulations--his teaching would not have seemed so irreverent. But he distinctly specifies the righteousness of God's Law, or the Ten Commandments, to which we owe an obligation far above what is due temporal powers, for they teach how to live before God--something no heathenish court of justice, no temporal authority, knows anything about. Should we not condemn as a heretic this preacher who goes beyond his prerogative and dares find fault with the Law of God? who also warns us to shun such as observe it, such as trust in its righteousness, and exalts to sainthood "enemies of the cross of Christ ... whose God is the belly"--who serve the appetites instead of God? 10. Paul would say of himself: I, too, was such a one. In my most perfect righteousness of the Law I was an enemy to and persecutor of the congregation, or Church, of Christ. It was the legitimate fruit of my righteousness that I thought I must be party to the most horrible persecution of Christ and his Christians. Thus my holiness made me an actual enemy of Christ and a murderer of his followers. The disposition to injure is a natural result of the righteousness of the Law, as all Scripture history from Cain down testifies, and as we see even in the best of the world who have not come to the knowledge of Christ. Princes, civil authorities in proportion to their wisdom, their godliness and honor are the bitter and intolerant enemies of the Gospel. 11. Of the sensual papistical dolts at Rome, cardinals, bishops, priests and the like, it is not necessary to speak here. Their works are manifest. All honorable secular authorities must confess they are simply abandoned knaves, living shameless lives of open scandal, avarice, arrogance, unchastity, vanity, robbery and wickedness of every kind. Not only are they guilty of such living, but shamelessly endeavor to defend their conduct. They must, then, be regarded enemies of Christ and of all honesty and virtue. Hence every respectable man is justly antagonistic toward them. But, as before said, Paul is not here referring to this class, but to eminent, godly individuals, whose lives are beyond reproach. These very ones, when Christians are encountered, are hostile and heinous enough to be able to forget all their own faults in the sight of God, and to magnify to huge beams the motes we Christians have. In fact, they must style the Gospel heresy and satanic doctrine for the purpose of exalting their own holiness and zeal for God. RIGHTEOUSNESS OF THE LAW OPPOSES THE CROSS. 12. The thing seems incredible, and I would not have believed it myself, nor have understood Paul's words here, had I not witnessed it with my own eyes and experienced it. Were the apostle to repeat the charge today, who could conceive that our first, noblest, most respectable, godly and holy people, those whom we might expect, above all others, to accept the Word of God--that they, I say, should be enemies to the Christian doctrine? But the examples before us testify very plainly that the "enemies" the apostle refers to must be the individuals styled godly and worthy princes and noblemen, honorable citizens, learned, wise, intelligent individuals. Yet if these could devour at one bite the "Evangelicals," as they are now called, they would do it. 13. If you ask, Whence such a disposition? I answer, it naturally springs from human righteousness. For every individual who professes human righteousness, and knows nothing of Christ, holds that efficacious before God. He relies upon it and gratifies himself with it, presuming thereby to present a flattering appearance in God's sight and to render himself peculiarly acceptable to him. From being proud and arrogant toward God, he comes to reject them who are not righteous according to the Law; as illustrated in the instance of the Pharisee. Lk 18, 11-12. But greater is his enmity and more bitter his hatred toward the preaching that dares to censure such righteousness and assert its futility to merit God's grace and eternal life. 14. I myself, and others with me, were dominated by such feelings when, under popery, we claimed to be holy and pious; we must confess the fact. If thirty years ago, when I was a devout, holy monk, holding mass every day and having no thought but that I was in the road leading directly to heaven--if then anyone had accused me--had preached to me the things of this text and pronounced our righteousness--which accorded not strictly with the Law of God, but conformed to human doctrine and was manifestly idolatrous--pronounced it without efficacy and said I was an enemy to the cross of Christ, serving my own sensual appetites, I would immediately have at least helped to find stones for putting to death such a Stephen, or to gather wood for the burning of this worst of heretics. 15. So human nature ever does. The world cannot conduct itself in any other way, when the declaration comes from heaven saying: "True you are a holy man, a great and learned jurist, a conscientious regent, a worthy prince, an honorable citizen, and so on, but with all your authority and your upright character you are going to hell; your every act is offensive and condemned in God's sight. If you would be saved you must become an altogether different man; your mind and heart must be changed." Let this be announced and the fire rises, the Rhine is all ablaze; for the self-righteous regard it an intolerable idea that lives so beautiful, lives devoted to praiseworthy callings, should be publicly censured and condemned by the objectionable preaching of a few insignificant individuals regarded as even pernicious, and according to Paul, as filthy refuse, actual obstacles to eternal life. 16. But you may say: "What? Do you forbid good works? Is it not right to lead an honorable, virtuous life? Do you not acknowledge the necessity of political laws, of civil governments? that upon obedience to them depends the maintenance of discipline, peace and honor? Indeed, do you not admit that God himself commands such institutions and wills their observance, punishing where they are disregarded? Much more would he have his own Law and the Ten Commandments honored, not rejected. How dare you then assert that such righteousness is misleading, and obstructive to eternal life? What consistence is there in teaching people to observe the things of the Law, to be righteous in that respect, and at the same time censuring those things as condemned before God? How can the works of the Law be good and precious, and yet repulsive and productive of evil?" 17. I answer, Paul well knows the world takes its stand on this point of righteousness by the Law, and hence would contradict him. But let him who will, consult the apostle as to why he makes such bold assertions here. For indeed the words of the text are not our words, but his. True, law and government are essential in temporal life, as Paul himself confesses, and God would have everyone honor and obey them. Indeed, he has ordained their observance among Turks and heathen. Yet it is a fact that these people, even the best and most upright of them, they who lead honorable lives, are naturally in their hearts enemies to Christ, and devote their intellectual powers to exterminating God's people. It must be universally admitted that the Turks, with all the restrictions and austerity of life imposed upon them by the Koran, a life more rigorous even than that of Christians--it must be admitted they belong to the devil. In other words, we adjudge them condemned with all their righteousness, but at the same time say they do right in punishing thieves, robbers, murderers, drunkards and other offenders; more, that Christians living within their jurisdiction are under obligation to pay tribute, and to serve them with person and property. Precisely the same thing is true respecting our princes who persecute the Gospel and are open enemies to Christ: we must be obedient to them, paying the tribute and rendering the service imposed; yet they, and all obedient followers willingly consenting to the persecution of the Gospel, must be looked upon as condemned before God. 18. Similarly does Paul speak concerning the righteousness of all the Jews and pious saints who are not Christians. His utterance is bold and of certain sound. He censures them and, weeping, deprecatingly refers to certain who direct the people to the righteousness of the law with the sole result of making "enemies to the cross of Christ." 19. Again, all the praise he has for them is to say that their "end is perdition"; they are condemned in spite of strenuous efforts all their lives to teach and enforce the righteousness of works. Here on earth it is truly a priceless distinction, an admirable and noble treasure, a praiseworthy honor, to have the name of being a godly and upright prince, ruler or citizen; a pious, virtuous wife or virgin. Who would not praise and exalt such virtue? It is indeed a rare and valuable thing in the world. But however beautiful, priceless and admirable an honor it is, Paul tells us, it is ultimately condemned and pertains not to heaven. HUMAN RIGHTEOUSNESS IDOLATROUS. 20. The apostle makes his accusation yet more galling with the words "whose god is their belly." Thus you hear how human righteousness, even at its best, extends no higher than to service of the sensual appetites. Take all the wisdom, justice, jurisprudence, artifice, even the highest virtues the world affords, and what are they? They minister only to that god, carnal appetite. They can go no farther than the needs of this life, their whole purpose being to satisfy physical cravings. When the physical appetites of the worldly pass, they pass likewise, and the gifts and virtues we have mentioned can no longer serve them. All perish and go to destruction together--righteousness, virtues, laws and physical appetites which they have served as their god. For they are wholly ignorant of the true and eternal God; they know not how to serve him and receive eternal life. So then in its essential features such a life is merely idolatrous, having no greater object than the preservation of this perishable body and its enjoyment of peace and honor. 21. The fourth accusation is, "whose glory is in their shame." That is all their glory amounts to. Let wise philosophers, scrupulous heathen, keen jurists, receive the acme of praise and honor--it is yet but shame. True, their motto is "Love of Virtue"; they boast strong love of virtue and righteousness and may even think themselves sincere. But judged by final results, their boast is without foundation and ends in shame. For the utmost their righteousness can effect is the applause of the world--here on earth. Before God it avails nothing. It cannot touch the life to come. Ultimately it leaves its possessor a captive in shame. Death devours and hell clutches him. 22. You may again object, "If what you say is true, why observe temporal restrictions? Let us live in indulgent carelessness following our inclinations. Let pass the godly, honorable man; the virtuous, upright wife or virgin." I answer, By no means; that is not the design. You have heard it is God's command and will that there be temporal righteousness even among Turks and heathen. And later on (ch. 4, 8) Paul admonishes Christians to "think on these things," that is, on what is true. He says: "Whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." And continuing, in verse 9, he refers them to his own example, saying, "which ye both learned and received and heard and saw in me." FRUITS OF FAITH. 23. With the believers in Christ, them who have their righteousness in him, there should follow in this life on earth the fruits of upright living, in obedience to God. These fruits constitute the good works acceptable to God, which, being works of faith and wrought in Christ, will be rewarded in the life to come. But Paul has in mind the individuals who, rejecting faith in Christ, regard their self-directed lives, their humanly-wrought works, which conform to the Law, as righteousness availing in the sight of God. His reference is to them who so trust, though wholly ignorant of Christ, for whose sake, without any merit on our part, righteousness is imputed to us by God. The only condition is we must believe in Christ; for he became man, died for our sins and rose from the dead, for the very purpose of liberating us from our sins and granting us his resurrection and life. Toward the heavenly life we should tend, in our life here walking in harmony with it; as Paul says in conclusion: "Our citizenship is in heaven [not earthly and not confined to this temporal life only]; whence also we wait for a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ." If we have no knowledge, no consciousness, of this fact, it matters not how beautiful and praiseworthy our human, earthly righteousness may be, it is merely a hindrance and an injury. For flesh and blood cannot help relying on its own righteousness and arrogantly boasting in this strain: "We are better, more honorable, more godly, than others. We Jews are the people of God and keep his Law." Even Christians are not wholly free from the pernicious influence of human holiness. They ever seek to bring their own works and merits before God. I know for myself what pains are inflicted by this godless wisdom, this figment of righteousness, and what effort must be made before the serpent's head is bruised. 24. Now, this is the situation and there is no alternative: Either suffer hell or regard your human righteousness as loss and filth and endeavor not to be found relying on it at your last hour, in the presence of God and judgment, but rather stand in the righteousness of Christ. In the garment of Christ's righteousness and reared in him you may, in the resurrection from sin and death, meet Christ and exclaim: "Hail, beloved Lord and Saviour, thou who hast redeemed me from the wretched body of sin and death, and fashioned me like unto thy holy, pure and glorious body!" GOD'S PATIENCE WITH HUMAN RIGHTEOUSNESS. 25. Meantime, while we walk in the faith of his righteousness, he has patience with the poor, frail righteousness of this earthly life, which otherwise is but filth in his sight. He honors our human holiness by supporting and protecting it during the time we live on earth; just as we honor our corrupt, filthy bodies, adorning them with beautiful, costly garments and golden ornaments, and reposing them on cushions and beds of luxury. Though but stench and filth encased in flesh, they are honored above everything else on earth. For their sake are all things performed--the ordering and ruling, building and laboring; and God himself permits sun and moon to shine that they may receive light and heat, and everything to grow on earth for their benefit. What is the human body but a beautiful pyx containing that filthy, repulsive object of reverence, the digestive organs, which the body must always patiently carry about; yes, which we must even nourish and minister to, glad if only they perform their functions properly? 26. Similarly God deals with us. Because he would confer eternal life upon man, he patiently endures the filthy righteousness of this life wherein we must dwell until the last day, for the sake of his chosen people and until the number is complete. For so long as the final day is deferred, not all to have eternal life are yet born. When the time shall be fulfilled, the number completed, God will suddenly bring to an end the world with its governments, its jurists and authorities, its conditions of life; in short, he will utterly abolish earthly righteousness, destroying physical appetites and all else together. For every form of human holiness is condemned to destruction; yet for the sake of Christians, to whom eternal life is appointed, and for their sake only, all these must be perpetuated until the last saint is born and has attained life everlasting. Were there but one saint yet to be born, for the sake of that one the world must remain. For God regards not the world nor has he need for it, except for the sake of his Christians. 27. Therefore, when God enjoins upon us obedience to the emperor, and godly, honest lives on earth, it is no warrant that our subjection to temporal authority is to continue forever. Instead, God necessarily will minister to, adorn and honor this wretched body--vile body, as Paul here has it--with power and dominion. Yet the apostle terms human righteousness "filth," and says it is not necessary to God's kingdom; indeed, that it is condemned in the sight of God with all its honor and glory, and all the world must be ashamed of it in his presence, confessing themselves guilty. Paul in Romans 3, 27 and 4, 2 testifies to this fact when he tells how even the exalted, holy fathers--Abraham, and others--though having glory before the world because of their righteous works, could not make them serve to obtain honor before God. Much less will worldly honor avail with God in the case of individuals who, being called honorable, pious, honest, virtuous--lords and princes, wives and husbands--boast of such righteousness. 28. Outwardly, then, though your righteousness may appear dazzlingly beautiful before the world, inwardly you are but filth. Illustrative of this point is the story told of a certain nun regarded holy above all others. She would not fellowship with anyone else, but sat alone in her cell in rapt devotion, praying unceasingly. She boasted special revelations and visions and had no consciousness of anything but that beloved angels hovered about and adorned her with a golden crown. But some outside, ardently desiring to behold such sights, peeped through holes and crevices, and seeing her head but defiled with filth, laughed at her. 29. Notice, the reason Paul calls the righteousness of the Law filth and pollution, is his desire to denounce the honor and glory claimed for it in God's sight; notwithstanding he honors before the world the observance of the Law by styling it "righteousness." But if you ostentatiously boast of such righteousness to him, he pronounces his sentence of judgment making you an abomination, an enemy of the cross of Christ, and shaming your boasted honor and finally casting you into hell. Concerning the righteousness of faith, however, which in Christ avails before God, he says: "Our citizenship [conversation] is in heaven, from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body." 30. We who are baptized and believe in Christ, Paul's thought is, do not base our works and our hope on the righteousness of this temporal life. Through faith in Christ, we have a righteousness that holds in heaven. It abides in Christ alone; otherwise it would avail naught before God. And our whole concern is to be eternally in Christ; to have our earthly existence culminate in yonder life when Christ shall come and change this life into another, altogether new, pure, holy and like unto his own, with a life and a body having the nature of his. THE CHRISTIAN A CITIZEN OF HEAVEN. 31. Therefore we are no longer citizens of earth. The baptized Christian is born a citizen of heaven through baptism. We should be mindful of this fact and walk here as if native there. We are to console ourselves with the fact that God thus accepts us and will transplant us there. Meantime we must await the coming again of the Saviour, who is to bring from heaven to us eternal righteousness, life, honor and glory. 32. We are baptized and made Christians, not to the end that we may have great honor, or renown of righteousness, or earthly dominion, power and possessions. Notwithstanding we do have these because they are requisite to our physical life, yet we are to regard them as mere filth, wherewith we minister to our bodily welfare as best we can for the benefit of posterity. We Christians, however, are expectantly to await the coming of the Saviour. His coming will not be to our injury or shame as it may be in the case of others. He comes for the salvation of our unprofitable, impotent bodies. Wretchedly worthless as they are in this life, they are much more unprofitable when lifeless and perishing in the earth. 33. But, however miserable, powerless and contemptible in life and death, Christ will at his coming render our bodies beautiful, pure, shining and worthy of honor, until they correspond to his own immortal, glorious body. Not like it as it hung on the cross or lay in the grave, blood-stained, livid and disgraced; but as it is now, glorified at the Father's right hand. We need not, then, be alarmed at the necessity of laying aside our earthly bodies; at being despoiled of the honor, righteousness and life adhering in them, to deliver it to the devouring power of death and the grave--something well calculated to terrify the enemies of Christ: but we may joyfully hope for and await his speedy coming to deliver us from this miserable, filthy pollution. "According to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself." THE GLORIFIED BODY OF THE CHRISTIAN. 34. Think of the honor and the glory Christ's righteousness brings even to our bodies! How can this poor, sinful, miserable, filthy, polluted body become like unto that of the Son of God, the Lord of Glory? What are you--your powers and abilities, or those of all men, to effect this glorious thing? But Paul says human righteousness, merit, glory and power have nothing to do with it. They are mere filth and pollution, and condemned as well. Another force intervenes, the power of Christ the Lord, who is able to bring all things into subjection to himself. Now, if he has power to subject all things unto himself at will, he is also able to glorify the pollution and filth of this wretched body, even when it has become worms and dust. In his hands it is as clay in the hands of the potter, and from the polluted lump of clay he can make a vessel that shall be a beautiful, new, pure, glorious body, surpassing the sun in its brilliance and beauty. 35. Through baptism Christ has taken us into his hands, actually that he may exchange our sinful, condemned, perishable, physical lives for the new, imperishable righteousness and life he prepares for body and soul. Such is the power and the agency exalting us to marvelous glory--something no earthly righteousness of the Law could accomplish. The righteousness of the Law leaves our bodies to shame and destruction; it reaches not beyond physical existence. But the righteousness of Christ inspires with power, making evident that we worship not the body but the true and living God, who does not leave us to shame and destruction, but delivers from sin, death and condemnation, and exalts this perishable body to eternal honor and glory. _Twenty Fourth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: Colossians 1, 3-14. 3 We give thanks to God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, praying always for you, 4 having heard of your faith in Christ Jesus, and of the love which ye have toward all the saints, 5 because of the hope which is laid up for you in the heavens, whereof ye heard before in the word of the truth of the gospel, 6 which is come unto you; even as it is also in all the world bearing fruit and increasing, as it doth in you also, since the day ye heard and knew the grace of God in truth; 7 even as ye learned of Epaphras our beloved fellow-servant, who is a faithful minister of Christ on our behalf, 8 who also declared unto us your love in the Spirit. 9 For this cause we also, since the day we heard it, do not cease to pray and make request for you, that ye may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, 10 to walk worthily of the Lord unto all pleasing, bearing fruit in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God; 11 strengthened with all power, according to the might of his glory, unto all patience and longsuffering with joy; 12 giving thanks unto the Father, who made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light; 13 who delivered us out of the power of darkness, and translated us into the kingdom of the Son of his love; 14 in whom we have our redemption, the forgiveness of our sins. PRAYER AND SPIRITUAL KNOWLEDGE. 1. In this short epistle to the Colossians Paul treats of many things, but particularly of faith, love, patience and gratitude. Upon these topics he is remarkably eloquent, for as God himself declares in Acts 9, 15, Paul is a chosen vessel, or instrument, of God--his best preacher on earth. He is particularly strong in his discussion of the main principle of the Gospel, faith in Christ. And he exalts Christ supremely, in person and kingdom, making him all in all in his Church--God, Lord, Master, Head and Example, and everything mentionable in goodness and divinity. 2. The apostle's first words are praise for the Colossians. He remarks upon the good report he has heard of them, how they have faith in Christ and love for all saints, and hold fast the hope of eternal life reserved for them in heaven: in other words, that they are true Christians, who have not allowed themselves to be led away from the pure Word of God but who earnestly cling to it, proving their faith by their fruits; for they love the poor Christians, and for Christ's sake have endured much in the hope of the promised salvation. So he exalts them as model Christians, a mirror of the entire Christian life. 3. "Hearing these things of you," Paul would say, "I heartily rejoice in your good beginning." Apparently he was not the one who first preached to them. In the first verse of the second chapter he speaks of his care for them and others who have not seen his face, and he also intimates here that the Colossians learned of Christ and the Gospel from Epaphras, Paul's fellow-servant. 4. "And therefore I always pray for you," he writes, "that you may continue in this way; may increase and be steadfast." He is aware of the necessity for such prayer and exhortation in behalf of Christians if they are to abide firm and unchangeable in their new-found faith, against the ceaseless assaults of the devil, the wickedness of the world, and the weakness of the flesh in tribulation and affliction. "That ye may be filled," Paul continues, "with the knowledge of his will." 5. This is his chief prayer and desire for them and if it is fulfilled there can be no lack. The words are, "be filled"; that is, not only hear and understand God's will, but become rich in the knowledge of it, with ever-increasing fullness. "You have begun well; you are promising shoots." But something more than a good beginning is required, and the knowledge of God's will is not to be exhaustively learned immediately on hearing the Word. On the contrary it must be constantly pursued and practiced as long as we live if it is ever to be rounded and perfected in us. KNOWLEDGE OF GOD'S WILL IMPOSES OBLIGATION. 6. "Knowing the will of God" means more than simply knowing about God, that he created heaven and earth and gave the Law, and so on, a knowledge even the Jews and Turks possess. For doubtless to them has been revealed that knowledge of God and of his will concerning our conduct which nature--the works of creation--can teach. Rom 1, 20. But if we fail to do God's revealed will, the knowledge of it does not benefit us. Such mere mental consciousness is a vain, empty thing; it does not fulfil God's will in us. Indeed, it eventually becomes a condemnatory knowledge of our own eternal destruction. When this point has been reached, further enlightenment is necessary if man is to be saved. He must know the meaning of Christ's words in John 6, 40: "This is the will of my Father, that every one that beholdeth the Son, and believeth on him, should have eternal life"; and in Matthew 18, 14: "It is not the will of your Father, that one of these should perish, which believe on me." 7. Since we have not done God's will according to the first revelation and must be rejected and condemned by his eternal, unendurable wrath, in his divine wisdom and mercy he has determined, or willed, to permit his only Son to take upon himself our sin and wrath; to give Christ as a sacrifice for our ransom, whereby the unendurable wrath and condemnation might be turned from us; to grant us forgiveness of sins and to send the Holy Spirit into our hearts, thus enabling us to love God's commandments and delight in them. This determination or will he reveals through the Son, and commands him to declare it to the world. And in Matthew 3, 17 he directs us to Christ as the source of all these blessings, saying: "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased: hear ye him." SPIRITUAL KNOWLEDGE ENJOINED. 8. Paul would gladly have a spiritual knowledge of these things increase in us until we are enriched and filled--wholly assured of their truth. Sublime and glorious knowledge this, the experience of a human heart which, born in sins, boldly and confidently believes that God, in his unfathomable majesty, in his divine heart, has irrevocably purposed--and wills for all men to accept and believe it--that he will not impute sin, but will forgive it and be gracious, and grant eternal life, for the sake of his beloved Son. 9. This spiritual knowledge or confidence, is not so easily learned as are other things. It is not so readily apprehended as the knowledge of the law written in nature, which when duly recognized by the heart overpowers with the conviction of God's wrath. Indeed, that more than anything else hinders Christians and saints from obtaining the knowledge of God's will in Christ, for it compels heart and conscience to plead guilty in every respect and to confess having merited the wrath of God; therefore the soul naturally fears and flees from God. Then, too, the devil fans the flame of fear and sends his wicked, fiery arrows of dismay into the heart, presenting only frightful pictures and examples of God's anger, filling the heart with this kind of knowledge to the exclusion of every other thought or perception. Thus recognition of God's wrath is learned only too well, for it becomes bitterly hard for man to unlearn it, to forget it in the knowledge of Christ. Again, the wicked world eagerly contributes its share of hindrance, its bitter hatred and venomous outcry against Christians as people of the worst type, outcast, condemned enemies of God. Moreover, by its example it causes the weak to stumble. Our flesh and blood also is a drawback, being waywardly inclined, making much of its own wisdom and holiness and seeking thereby to gain honor and glory or to live in security a life of wealth, pleasure and covetousness. Hence on every side a Christian must be in severe conflict, and fight against the world and the devil, and against himself also, if he is to succeed in preserving the knowledge of God's will. WE MUST PRAY FOR SPIRITUAL LIGHT. 10. Now, since this knowledge of the Gospel is so difficult to attain and so foreign to nature, it is necessary that we pray for it with all earnestness and labor to be increasingly filled with it, and to learn well the will of God. Our own experience testifies that if it be but superficially and improperly learned, when one is overtaken by a trifling misfortune or alarmed by a slight danger or affliction, his heart is easily overwhelmed with the thunderbolts of God's wrath as he reflects: "Wo to me! God is against me and hates me." Why should this miserable "Wo!" enter the heart of a Christian upon the occasion of a little trouble? If he were filled with the knowledge of God as he should be, and as many secure, self-complacent spirits imagine themselves to be, he would not thus fear and make outcry. His agitation and his complaint, "O Lord God! why dost thou permit me to suffer this?" are evidence that he as yet knows not God's will, or at least has but a faint conception of it; the wo exceeds the joy. But full knowledge of God's will brings with it a joy that far overbalances all fear and terror, ay, removes and abolishes them altogether. 11. Therefore let us learn this truth and with Paul pray for what we and all Christians supremely need--full knowledge of God's will, not a mere beginning; for we are not to imagine a beginning will suffice and to stop there as if we had comprehended it all. Everything is not accomplished in the mere planting; watering and cultivation must follow. In this case the watering and cultivating are the Word of God, and prayer against the devil, who day and night labors to suppress spiritual knowledge, to beat down the tender plants wherever he sees them springing up; and also against the world, which promotes only opposition and directs its wisdom and reason to conflicting ends. Did not God protect us and strengthen the knowledge of his will, we would soon see the devil's power and the extent of our spiritual understanding. 12. We have a verification of this assertion in that poetical work, the book of Job. Satan appears before God, who asks (ch. 1, 8): "Hast thou considered my servant Job? for there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and upright man, one that feareth God." And Satan answers on this wise: "Yea, thou hast surrounded him with thy protection and kept me at bay; but only withdraw thy hand and I venture I will soon bring him around to curse thee to thy face"; as he afterward did when he afflicted Job with ugly boils and in addition filled him with his fiery arrows--terrifying thoughts of God. Further, Christ said to Peter and the other apostles: "Satan asked to have you, that he might sift you as wheat: but I made supplication for thee, that thy faith fail not." Lk 22, 31-32. In short, if God hinders him not, Satan dares to overthrow even the greatest and strongest saints. 13. Therefore, although we have become Christians and have made a beginning in the knowledge of God's will, we ought nevertheless to walk in fear and humility, and not to be presumptuous like the soon-wearied, secure spirits, who imagine they exhausted that knowledge in an instant, and know not the measure and limit of their skill. Such people are particularly pleasing to the devil, for he has them completely in his power and makes use of their teaching and example to harm others and make them likewise secure, and unmindful of his presence and of the fact that God may suffer them to be overwhelmed. Verily, there is need of earnest and diligent use of the Word of God and prayer, that Christians may not only learn to know the will of God, but also to be filled with it. Only so can the individual walk always according to God's will and make constant progress, straining toward the goal of an ever-increasing comfort and strength that shall enable him to face fears and terrors and not allow the devil, the world, and flesh and blood to hinder him. SPIRITUAL KNOWLEDGE BRINGS INCREASING JOY. 14. Such is the nature of this fullness of knowledge that the possessor never becomes satiated with it or tired of it, but it yields him ever-increasing pleasure and joy, and he is ever more eager, more thirsty, for it. As the Scriptures declare, "They that drink me shall yet be thirsty." Ecclus 24, 21. For even the dear angels in heaven never become sated with fullness of knowledge, but as Peter says, they find an everlasting joy and pleasure in the ability to behold what is revealed and preached to us. 1 Peter 1, 12. Therefore, if we have not a constant hunger and thirst after the full and abundant comprehension of God's will--and certainly we ought to have it in greater degree than the angels--until we, too, shall be able to behold it eternally in the life everlasting, then we have but a taste of that knowledge, a mere empty froth, which can neither refresh nor satisfy us, cannot comfort us nor make us better. WHY AFFLICTIONS ARE SENT. 15. To create and stimulate this hunger and thirst in us, and to bring us to the attainment of full knowledge, God kindly sends upon his Christians temptation, sorrow and affliction. These preserve them from carnal satiety and teach them to seek comfort and help. So God did also in former ages, in the time of the martyrs, when he daily suffered them to be violently seized in person and put to death by sword, fire, blood and wild beasts. In this way he truly led his people to school, where they were obliged to learn to know his will and to be able defiantly to say: "No, O tyrant, O world, devil and flesh, though you may injure me bodily, may beat or torment me, banish me or even take my life, you shall not deprive me of my Lord Jesus Christ--of God's grace and mercy." So faith taught them and confirmed to them that such suffering was God's purpose and immutable will concerning themselves, which, whatever attitude towards them he might assume, he could not alter, even as he could not in the case of Christ himself. This discipline and experience of faith strengthened the martyrs and soon accustomed them to suffering, enabling them to go to their death with pleasure and joy. Whence came, even to young girls thirteen and fourteen years old, like Agnes and Agatha, the courage and confidence to stand boldly before the Roman judge, and, when led to death, to go as joyfully as to a festivity, whence unless their hearts were filled with a sublime and steadfast faith, a positive assurance that God was not angry with them, but that all was his gracious and merciful will and for their highest salvation and bliss? 16. Behold, what noble and enlightened, what strong and courageous, people God produced by the discipline of cross and affliction! We, in contrast, because unwilling to experience such suffering, are weak and enervated. If but a little smoke gets into our eyes, our joy and courage are gone, likewise our perception of God's will, and we can only raise a loud lamentation and cry of woe. As I said, this is the inevitable condition of a heart to which the experience of affliction is unknown. Just so Christ's disciples in the ship, when they saw the tempest approach and the waves beat over the vessel, quite forgot, in their trembling and terror, the divine will, although Christ was present with them. They only made anxious lamentation, yet withal cried for help: "Save, Lord; we perish!" Mt 8, 25. So also in the time of the martyrs, many Christians became timid and at first denied Christ from fear of torture or of long confinement in prison. 17. It is God's will that we, too, should learn to accustom ourselves to these things through temptation and affliction, though these be hard to bear and the heart is prone to become agitated and utter its cry of woe. We can quiet our disturbed hearts, saying: "I know what is God's thought, his counsel and will, in Christ, which he will not alter: he has promised to me through his Son, and confirmed it through my baptism, that he who hears and sees the Son shall be delivered from sin and death, and live eternally." 18. Now, what Paul calls being filled with the knowledge of the divine will in Christ through the faith of the Gospel, means faith in and the comfort of the forgiveness of sins, since we have not in ourselves the ability to fulfil his will in the ten commandments. This knowledge is not a passive consciousness, but a living, active conviction, which will stand before the judgment of God, contend with the devil and prevail over sin, death and life. 19. Now, the heart possessing such knowledge or faith is kindled by the Holy Spirit and acquires a love for and delight in God's commandments. It becomes obedient to them, patient, chaste, modest, gentle, given to brotherly kindness, and honors God in confession and life. Thus it is increasingly filled with the knowledge of God's will; it is armed and fortified on all sides to withstand and defeat the flesh and the world, the devil and hell. "SPIRITUAL WISDOM" DEFINED. 20. By way of explanation Paul adds the words, "all spiritual wisdom and understanding." This is not the wisdom of the world. There is no necessity to strive and to endure persecution for that which concerns itself with other than spiritual matters. Nor is it the wisdom of reason, which indeed presumes to judge of divine things, but yet can never understand them; on the contrary, although it accepts them, it quickly falls away into doubt and despair. 21. "Wisdom" signifies with Paul, when he places it in apposition with "spiritual understanding," the sublime and secret doctrine of the Gospel of Christ, which teaches us to know the will of God. And a "wise man" is a Christian, who knows himself and can intelligently interpret God's will toward us and how we perceive his will by faith--growing and obediently living in harmony with it. This wisdom is not devised of reason; it has not entered into the heart of man nor is it known to any of the princes of this world, as Paul says in 1 Corinthians 2, 8-10. But it is revealed from Heaven by the Holy Spirit to those who believe the Gospel. 22. But there is necessary to the full completion of wisdom something which the apostle calls "understanding"; that is, a careful retention of what has been received. It is possible for one having the spiritual wisdom to be overtaken by the devil through a momentary intellectual inspiration, or through anger and impatience, or even through greed and similar deceitful allurements. Therefore it is necessary here to be cautious, alert and watchful in an effort to guard against the devil's cunning attacks and always to oppose him with his own spiritual wisdom, that he may not be undeceived. The Pauline and scriptural use of the word "understanding" signifies the ability to make good use of one's wisdom; to make it effective as a test whereby to prove all things, to judge with keen discernment whatever presents itself in the name and appearance of wisdom. Thus armed, the soul defends itself and does not in any case violate its own discretion. To furnish himself with understanding, the Christian must ever have regard to the Word of God, must put it into practice, lest the devil dazzle his mind with some palaver and error and deceive him before he is aware of it. This Satan is well able to do; indeed, he uses every art to accomplish it if a man be not on his guard and seek not counsel in God's Word. Such is the teaching of David's example, who says in Psalm 119, 11: "Thy word have I laid up in my heart, that I might not sin against thee." And again in verse 24: "Thy testimonies also are my delight and my counsellors." 23. A man may be familiar with God's Word, yet if he walks in self-security, concerned about other matters, or if perhaps being tempted he loses sight of God's Word, it may easily come to pass that he is seduced and deceived by the secret craft and cunning of the devil; or of himself he may become bewildered, losing his wisdom and being unable to find counsel or help even in the most trivial temptations. For the devil and reason, or human wisdom, can dispute and syllogize with extraordinary subtlety in these things until one imagines to be true wisdom that which is not. A wise man soon becomes a fool; men readily err and make false steps; a Christian likewise is prone to stumble; ay, even a good teacher and prophet can easily be deceived by reason's brilliant logic. Essentially, then, Christians must take warning and study, with careful meditation, the Word of God. 24. We read of St. Martin how he would not undertake to dispute with heretics for the simple reason that he was unwilling to fall into wrangling, to rationalize with them or to attempt to defeat them by the weapon of reason, the sole means whereby they pointed and adorned all their arguments, as the world always does when opposing the Word of God. The shrewd Papists today pretend, as they think, very acutely to confirm and support all their antichristian abominations by the name of the Church, making the idiotic claim that one must not effect nor suffer any change in the religious teaching commonly accepted by Christendom. They say we must believe the Christian Church is always guided by the Holy Spirit and therefore demands our obedience. Notice here the name of the Church, concerning which your spiritual wisdom teaches according to the article: "I believe in a holy Christian Church." But that name is distorted to confirm the lies and idolatry of the Papacy, just as is true of the name of God. So there is need of understanding, of careful, keen discernment, that wisdom be not perverted and falsified, and man be deceived with its counterfeit. 25. By close examination and comparison with God's Word, the standard and test, you may clearly prove the Papacy to be not the Church of Christ, but a sect of Satan; it is filled with open idolatry, lies and murder, which its adherents fain would defend. These things the Church of Christ does not endorse, and to tax it with resolving, appointing, ordering and demanding obedience to that which is at variance with the Word of God, is to do the Church wrong and violence. CHURCH NOT TO COMPROMISE WITH PAPISTS. 26. The world at the present time is sagaciously discussing how to quell the controversy and strife over doctrine and faith, and how to effect a compromise between the Church and the Papacy. Let the learned, the wise, it is said, bishops, emperor and princes, arbitrate. Each side can easily yield something, and it is better to concede some things which can be construed according to individual interpretation, than that so much persecution, bloodshed, war, and terrible, endless dissension and destruction be permitted. Here is lack of understanding, for understanding proves by the Word that such patchwork is not according to God's will, but that doctrine, faith and worship must be preserved pure and unadulterated; there must be no mingling with human nonsense, human opinions or wisdom. The Scriptures give us this rule: "We must obey God rather than men." Acts 5, 29. 27. We must not, then, regard nor follow the counsels of human wisdom, but must keep ever before us God's will as revealed by his Word; we are to abide by that for death or life, for evil or good. If war or other calamity results complain to him who wills and commands us to teach and believe our doctrine. The calamity is not of our effecting; we have not originated it. And we are not required to prove by argument whether or no God's will is right and to be obeyed. If he wills to permit persecution and other evils to arise in consequence of our teaching, for the trial and experience of true Christians and for the punishment of the ungrateful, let them come; and if not, his hand is doubtless strong enough to defend and preserve his cause from destruction, that man may know the events to be of his ordering. And so, praise his name, he has done in our case. He has supported us against the strong desires of our adversaries. Had we yielded and obeyed them, we would have been drawn into their falsehood and destruction. And God will still support us if we deal uprightly and faithfully in these requirements, if we further and honor the Word of God, and be not unthankful nor seek things that counterfeit God's Word. 28. So much by way of explaining what Paul means by wisdom and understanding to know the will of God, and by way of teaching the necessity of having both wisdom and understanding. For not only must the doctrine whereby wisdom is imparted be inculcated in Christendom, but there is also need for admonition and exhortation concerning that understanding necessary to preserve wisdom, and for defense in strife and conflict. Were not these principles exercised and inculcated in us, we would be deceived by false wisdom and vain imaginations, and would accept their gloss and glitter for pure gold, as many in the Church have ever done. 29. The Galatians had received from Paul the wisdom of justification before God by faith in Christ alone. Nevertheless, in spite of that knowledge, they were deceived and would have lost their wisdom altogether through the claim of the false prophets that the God-given Law must be observed, had not Paul aroused their understanding at this point and brought them back from error. The Corinthians were taught by their spiritual wisdom the article of Christian liberty; they knew that sacrifices to idols are nothing. But they failed in this respect: they proceeded without understanding, and made carnal use of their liberty, contrary to wisdom and offending others. Therefore Paul had to remind them of their departure from his doctrine and wisdom. 30. The Scriptures record many instances of failure in this matter of understanding. A notable one is found in the thirteenth chapter of First Kings. A man of God from the kingdom of Judah, who had in the presence of King Jeroboam openly denounced the idolatry instituted by the king, and had confirmed his preaching and prophecy by a miracle, was commanded by God not under any circumstances to abide in the place whither he had gone to prophesy, nor to eat and drink there. He was to go straight home by another way than the route he had come. Yet on the way homeward he allowed himself to be persuaded by another prophet, one who falsely claimed to have a revelation from God, by an angel, commanding him to take the man of God to his home and give him to eat and drink. While they sat together at the table the Word of the Lord came to the inviting prophet and under its inspiration he told the other that he should not reach home alive. The latter, departing on his journey, was killed on the way by a lion, which remained standing by the body and the ass the man of God had ridden, not touching them further, until the old prophet came and found them. He brought the body home on the ass and buried it, commanding that after his own death he should be laid in the same grave. Such was God's punishment of the prophet who allowed himself to be deceived and obeyed not God's express command. However, his soul suffered not harm, as God testified by the fact the lion did not devour his body but defended it. Now, in what was the prophet lacking? Not in wisdom, for he had the Word of God. He lacked in understanding, allowing himself to be deceived when the other man declared himself a prophet whom the angel of the Lord had instructed. The man of God should have abided by the word given to him, and have said to the other: "You may be a prophet, indeed, but God has commanded me to do this thing. Of that I am certain and I will be governed by it. I will regard no conflicting order, be it in the name of an angel or of God." NEITHER REASON NOR FEELINGS A RIGHT JUDGE. 31. So it is often with man today, not only in doctrinal controversy but in private affairs and in official capacity. He is prone to stumble and to fail in understanding when not watchful of his purposes and motives, to see how they accord with the wisdom of God's Word. Particularly is his understanding unreliable when the devil moves him to wrath, impatience, dejection, melancholy, or when he is otherwise tempted. Often they who have been well exercised with trials become bewildered in small temptations and uncertain what course to take. Here must one be watchful and not go by his reason or his feelings, but remember God's Word--or ascertain if he does not know what it is--and be guided thereby. When tempted man cannot judge aright by the dictates of reason. Therefore he ought not to follow his own natural intelligence nor to act from hasty conclusions. Let him be suspicious of all his reasoning and beware the cunning of the devil, who seeks either to allure or to intimidate us by his specious arguments. First of all let man call upon the understanding born of his wisdom in the Gospel, what his faith, love, hope and patience counsel, in fact, what God's will eloquently teaches everywhere and in all circumstances if only one strive, labor and pray to be filled with such knowledge. 32. Paul uses the expression, "spiritual wisdom and understanding," because it represents that which makes us wise and prudent to oppose the devil and his assaults and temptations, or wiles as Paul calls them in Ephesians 6, 11; which governs and guides, shepherds and leads, teaches and keeps us, and enables us to fare well spiritually--in faith and a good conscience toward God--and also in the temporal affairs of life when reason fails as a counselor or teacher. Paul further says: "To walk worthily of the Lord unto all pleasing, bearing fruit in every good work; and increasing in the knowledge of God; strengthened with all power, according to the might of his glory, unto all patience and longsuffering with joy; giving thanks unto the Father, who made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light." 33. What is meant by "walking worthily of the Lord" we have heard in other epistles, namely to believe, and to confess the faith by doctrine and life, as people worthy of the Lord and of whom the Lord can triumphantly say: "These are my people--Christians who live and abide in what they have been taught by the Word, who know my will and obediently do and suffer for it." 34. Our wisdom and understanding of the knowledge of God should serve to make us characters that are an honor and praise to God, in whom he may be glorified, and who live to God unto all pleasing, that is, please him in every way, according to his Word. And because of such wisdom and knowledge, we should, in our lives, in our stations and appointed work, not be unfruitful nor harmful hypocrites and unbelievers, as false Christians are, but doers of much good, useful characters to the honor of God's kingdom. All the time we are to make constant growth and progress in the knowledge of God, that we may not be seduced or driven from it by the cunning of the devil, who at all times and in all places assails Christians and strenuously seeks to effect their fall from the Word and from God's will, even as in the beginning he did with Adam and Eve in paradise. ONLY GOD'S POWER CAN OVERCOME THE DEVIL. 35. The apostle continues: "strengthened with all power, according to the might of his glory." Here is preparation to sustain the conflict against the devil, the world and the flesh, and to overcome. Not our own power, nor the combined power of all mankind, can effect it. Only God's own divine, glorious power and might can overcome the devil and win honor and praise in the contest with the gates of hell. Christ in himself proved such efficacy of the divine strength when he overcame all the devil's superlative assaults. 36. By this power and might of God must we be strengthened in faith. We must strive after such divine agency and by the help of the Word persevere and pray, that there may be not only a beginning, but a continuation and a victorious end. So shall we become ever stronger and stronger in God's might. Whatever we do, it must not be undertaken in and by our own strength. We must not boast as if we had ourselves accomplished it, but must rely upon God, upon his strength and support. Certainly it is not due to our ability but to his own omnipotent agency if one remains a Christian, steadfast in the knowledge of God and not deceived nor conquered by the devil. PATIENCE ESSENTIAL TO ENDURANCE. 37. But, the writer tells us, the attainment of strength and victory calls for "all patience." We must have patience to endure the persistent persecution of the devil, the world and the flesh. Not only patience is required here, but "longsuffering." The apostle makes a distinction between the two words, regarding the latter as something more heroic. It is the devil's way, when he fails to defeat by affliction and trouble, to try the heart with endurance. He makes the ordeal unbearably hard and long to patience, even apparently without end. His scheme is to accomplish by unceasing persistence what he cannot attain by the severity and multitude of his temptations; he aims to wear out one's patience and to discourage his hope of conquering. To meet these conditions there is necessary, in addition to patience, longsuffering, which holds out firmly and steadfastly in suffering, with the determination: "Indeed, you cannot try me too severely or too long, even though the trial continue to the end of the world." True, knightly, Christian strength is that which in conflict and suffering is able to endure not only severe and manifold assaults of the devil, but to hold out indefinitely. More than anything else do we need to be strengthened, through prayer, with the power of God, that we may not succumb in such grievous warfare, but achieve the end. CHRISTIANS SHOULD REJOICE AND BE THANKFUL. 38. And your patience and longsuffering, Paul says, must be exercised "with joy." In these severe, multiplied and long temptations you must not allow yourselves to be filled with sad and depressing thoughts. You are to be hopeful and joyous, despising the devil and the troubles and tumults of the world and himself. Rejoice because you have on your side the knowledge of the divine will in Christ, and his power and glorious might, and doubt not that his omnipotence will help you through. 39. Finally the apostle enjoins us to give thanks, or to be thankful. Forget not, he would say, the unspeakable benefits and gifts God has bestowed upon you above all men on earth. He has richly blessed you, and liberated you from the power and might of sin, death, hell and the devil, wherein you would, for all you could help yourselves, have had to remain eternally captive; he has appointed you for eternal glory, making you co-heirs with the saints elected for his eternal kingdom; and he has made you partakers of all eternal, divine, heavenly blessings. In your sufferings and conflicts, remember these glories ordained for and given to you, and remembering rejoice the more and willingly fight and suffer to obtain possession, to enjoy the fruition, of what is certainly appropriated to you in the Word and in faith. 40. The writer of the epistle calls it "the inheritance of the saints in light," or of the "light" saints, that is, the true saints. Thus he distinguishes from false saints, intimating that there are two classes of saints. To one class belong the many in the world who have only their own claim to sainthood: the Jews, for instance, with their holiness of the Law; and the world generally, the philosophers, jurists and their kind, with their self-righteousness. These are not saints of light; they are saints of darkness, unclean, even defiled. In Philippians 3, 8 Paul counts such righteousness loss and refuse. To this class belong also many false, hypocritical saints in the company of Christians who have the Gospel; they, too, hear the Gospel and attend upon the Holy Supper, but they remain in darkness, without the least experience of the wisdom and understanding that knows the divine will. But they who exercise themselves in these spiritual graces by faith, love and patience in temptation, and perceive the wonderful grace and blessing God imparts through the Gospel--these honorably may be called the saints, destined, even appointed, to eternal light and joy in God's kingdom. "Who delivered us out of the power of darkness, and translated us into the kingdom of the Son of his love; in whom we have our redemption, the forgiveness of our sins." 41. Paul now expatiates on the things that call for our gratitude to God the Father. He sums up the whole teaching of the Gospel, showing us what is ours in Christ and giving a glorious and comforting description of his person and the blessing he brings. But first, he says, we ought, above all, to thank God unceasingly for the knowledge of his revealed Gospel. In it we have no small treasure. Rather, it is a possession with which all the gold, silver and other riches of this world, all the earthly joy and comfort of this life, are not to be compared. For it means redemption from eternal, irreparable loss and ruin under God's eternal, unbearable wrath and condemnation. And this wretchedness was the result of our sin. We were committed to sin and without help, without deliverance, ay, we were captive in such blindness and darkness that we did not recognize our misery; much less could we devise and effect our escape. Now, in place of this misery, we have, without any merit on our part, any preparation, any deed or design, ay, without even a thought, assuredly received, through God's unfathomable grace and mercy, redemption, or the forgiveness of sins. GOD'S GRACE INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 42. The measure of such graciousness and blessing no tongue can express; indeed, in this life no man can understand it. In hell the wicked shall become sensible of it by the realization of their condemnation and the never-ending wrath of the eternal, divine Majesty and of all creatures. No created thing shall they be able to behold with joy, because in these ever shall be reflected the condemned one's own unceasing, lamentable sorrow, terror and despair. Nor, on the other hand, can the creature behold the condemned with pleasure, but must abhor them; it must be an object of further terror and condemnation to the damned. However, in this life God in his unspeakable goodness has subjected the creature to vanity, as Paul says in Romans 8, 20, and to the service of the wicked. Yet it serves against its will, travailing as a woman in pain, with the supreme desire to be liberated from this service of the wicked, condemned world. It must, however, have patience in its hope of redemption, for the sake of those children of God yet to come to Christ and finally to be brought to glory; otherwise it is as hostile to sin as God himself. 43. But because an eternal, unchangeable sentence of condemnation has passed upon sin--for God cannot and will not regard sin with favor, but his wrath abides upon it eternally and irrevocably--redemption was not possible without a ransom of such precious worth as to atone for sin, to assume the guilt, pay the price of wrath and thus abolish sin. 44. This no creature was able to do. There was no remedy except for God's only Son to step into our distress and himself become man, to take upon himself the load of awful and eternal wrath and make his own body and blood a sacrifice for the sin. And so he did, out of his immeasurably great mercy and love towards us, giving himself up and bearing the sentence of unending wrath and death. 45. So infinitely precious to God is this sacrifice and atonement of his only beloved Son who is one with him in divinity and majesty, that God is reconciled thereby and receives into grace and forgiveness of sins all who believe in this Son. Only by believing may we enjoy the precious atonement of Christ, the forgiveness obtained for us and given us out of profound, inexpressible love. We have nothing to boast of for ourselves, but must ever joyfully thank and praise him who at such priceless cost redeemed us condemned and lost sinners. 46. The essential feature of redemption--forgiveness of sins--being once obtained, everything belonging to its completion immediately follows. Eternal death, the wages of sin, is abolished, and eternal righteousness and life are given; as Paul says in Romans 6, 23, the grace, or gift, of God is eternal life. And now that we are reconciled to God and washed in the blood of Christ, everything in heaven and earth, as Paul again declares (Eph 1, 10), is in turn reconciled to us. The creatures are no longer opposed, but at peace with us and friendly; they smile upon us and we have only joy and life in God and his creation. 47. Such is the doctrine of the Gospel, and so is it to be declared. It shows us sin and forgiveness, wrath and grace, death and life; how we were in darkness and how we are redeemed from it. It does not, like the Law, make us sinners, nor is its mission to teach us how to merit and earn grace. But it declares how we, condemned and under the power of sin, death and the devil, as we are, receive by faith the freely-given redemption and in return show our gratitude. 48. Paul also explains who it is that has shed his blood for us. He would have us understand the priceless cost of our redemption, namely, the blood of the Son of God, who is the image of the invisible God. The apostle declares that he existed before creation, and by him were all things created, and that therefore he is true, eternal God with the Father. Hence, Paul says, the shed blood truly is God's own blood. And so the writer of this epistle clearly and mightily establishes the article of the divinity of Christ. But this requires a special and separate sermon. _Twenty Fifth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 1 Thessalonians 4, 13-18. 13 But we would not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning them that fall asleep; that ye sorrow not, even as the rest, who have no hope. 14 For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also that are fallen asleep in Jesus will God bring with him. 15 For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we that are alive, that are left unto the coming of the Lord, shall in no wise precede them that are fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven, with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first; 17 then we that are alive, that are left, shall together with them be caught up in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. 18 Wherefore comfort one another with these words. LIVING AND DEAD WHEN CHRIST RETURNS. Paul writes these words to comfort Christians who were troubled about what would take place at the resurrection of the dead. Shall all rise together? Shall those living on the earth at the last day meet Christ before others? These and like thoughts worried them. Here Paul answers them by saying that Christ would take all his believers to himself at the same time, etc. This epistle text you will find richly expounded in "The Explanation of Certain Epistles," which appeared on special occasions. [The Miscellaneous Sermons of the Year 1532.] _Twenty Sixth Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 2 Thessalonians 1, 3-10. 3 We are bound to give thanks to God always for you, brethren, even as it is meet, for that your faith groweth exceedingly, and the love of each one of you all toward one another aboundeth; 4 so that we ourselves glory in you in the churches of God for your patience and faith in all your persecutions and in the afflictions which ye endure; 5 which is a manifest token of the righteous judgment of God; to the end that ye may be counted worthy of the kingdom of God, for which ye also suffer: 6 if so be that it is a righteous thing with God to recompense affliction to them that afflict you, 7 and to you that are afflicted rest with us, at the revelation of the Lord Jesus from heaven with the angels of his power in flaming fire, 8 rendering vengeance to them that know not God, and to them that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus: 9 who shall suffer punishment, even eternal destruction from the face of the Lord and from the glory of his might, 10 when he shall come to be glorified in his saints, and to be marvelled at in all them that believed (because our testimony unto you was believed) in that day. GOD'S JUDGMENT WHEN CHRIST RETURNS. 1. First, Paul has words of praise for his Church at Thessalonica. In view of its faith and its love it was one of the first rank. Patiently it stood firm, and even increased, under crosses of affliction. The apostle's intent in commending these people is to incite to perseverance. He would hold them up to others as an example--an illustration--of the fruits resulting when the Gospel is preached and received. He also points out in what the edification and success of the true Church of Christ consist. Then he consoles them for their patient sufferings with the mention of the glorious coming of Christ the Lord, which shall mean their final redemption, the recompense of peace and joy for their tribulations, and the bringing of eternal wrath upon their persecutors. 2. This consolation Paul draws from their sufferings and God's righteous judgment, by which he makes plain why God lets them suffer here on earth--what is his purpose in it. Looking at the Christian community with the eye of human reason and reflection, no more wretched, tormented, persecuted, unhappy people are in evidence on earth than those who confess and glory in Christ the crucified. In the world they are continually persecuted, tormented and assailed by the devil with all manner of wretchedness, misfortune, distress and death. Even to their own perceptions, it seems as if they surely are forgotten and forsaken by God in the sight of mankind. For he allows them to remain prostrate under the weight of the cross, while others in the world, particularly their persecutors, live in the enjoyment of honor and fortune, of happiness, power and riches, with everything moving to the fulfilment of their desires. The Scriptures frequently deplore this condition of things, especially the Psalms, and Paul in First Corinthians 15, 19 confesses: "If we have only hoped in Christ in this life, we are of all men most pitiable." CHRISTIAN'S SUFFERINGS LEAD TO HAPPINESS. 3. Now, assuredly this state of affairs cannot continue without end; it cannot be God's intention to permit Christians thus to suffer continually while they live, to die because of it and remain dead. It would be incompatible with his eternal, divine truth and honor manifest in his Word. For there he declares he will be the God of the pious, of them who fear and trust him, and gives them unspeakable promises. Necessarily, then, he has planned a future state for Christians and for non-Christians, in either instance unlike what they know on earth. Possibly one of the chief reasons why God permits Christians to suffer on earth is to make plain the distinction between their reward and that of the ungodly. In the sufferings of believing Christians, and in the wickedness, tyranny, rage, and persecution directed by the unrighteous against the godly, is certain indication of a future life unlike this and a final judgment of God in which all men, godly and wicked, shall be forever recompensed. 4. Notice, Paul means to say here when he speaks of the tribulations and sufferings of Christians: "These afflictions are the indication of God's righteous judgment, and a sign you are worthy of the kingdom of God for which you suffer." In other words: "O beloved Christians, regard your sufferings as dear and precious. Think not God is angry with you, or has forgotten you, because he allows you to endure these things. They are your great help and comfort, for they show God will be a righteous judge, will richly bless you and avenge you upon your persecutors. Yes, therein you have unfailing assurance. You may rejoice, and console yourselves, believing without the shadow of a doubt that you belong to the kingdom of God, and have been made worthy of it, because you suffer for its sake." 5. Whatever the Christian suffers here on earth at the hands of the devil and the world, befalls him simply for the sake of the name of God and for his Word. True, as a baptized child of God the Christian should justly enjoy unalloyed goodness, comfort and peace on earth; but since he must still dwell in the kingdom of the devil, who infuses sin and death into human flesh, he must endure the devil. Yet all Satan's inflictions and the world's plagues, persecutions, terrors, tortures, even the taking of the Christian's life, and all its abuse, is wrought in violence and injustice. But to offset this, the Christian has the comforting assurance of God's Word that because he suffers for the sake of the kingdom of Christ and of God he shall surely be eternally partaker of that kingdom. Certain it is, no one will be worthy of it unless he suffers for it. 6. "If so be that it is a righteous thing with God to recompense affliction to them that afflict you," continues the apostle. It is impossible it should continue to be, as now, well with the world and evil with you. God's righteousness will not admit of it. Just because he is a righteous judge, things must be eventually different: the godly must have eternal good, and the wicked, on the other hand, must be punished forever. Otherwise God's judgment would not be righteous; in other words, he would not be God. Now, since this is an impossible proposition, since God's righteousness and truth are immutable, in his capacity of judge he must perforce, in due time, come from heaven, when he shall have assembled his Christians, and avenge them of their enemies, recompense the latter according to their merits, and confer eternal rest and peace upon his followers for the temporal sufferings they have endured here. GOD DOES NOT FORGET HIS CHILDREN. 7. Christians should certainly expect this and comfort themselves in the confidence that God will not permit the wrongs of his people to continue unpunished and unavenged. We might think he had forgotten were we to judge from the facts that godly Abel was shamefully murdered by his brother, that God's prophets and martyrs--John the Baptist, Jeremiah, Paul and others--suffered death at the hands of bloodhounds like the Herods, Neros and other shameless, sanguinary tyrants of the sort, and this when God had, even in this life, given glorious testimony to their being his beloved children. A judgment must be forthcoming that tyrants may suffer pains and punishments, and that the godly, delivered from sufferings, may have eternal rest and joy. Let all the world know God does not forget, even after death. 8. This is the consolation the future judgment at the resurrection of the dead holds, that, as God's righteousness requires, the saints shall receive for their sufferings a supremely rich and glorious recompense. Paul seems to present as the principal reason why God must punish the world with everlasting pain, the fact that the world has inflicted tribulations on Christians. Apparently his words imply that the perpetrations of the devil and the world--their supreme contempt and hatred of God's name and Word, their blasphemies of these, their wickedness and disobedience in other respects, whereby they bring upon themselves everlasting pain and damnation--that for these sins against himself God is not so ready to punish as for their persecution and torment of his poor, believing Christians. This truth is indicated where we read that Christ on the last day shall say: "Depart from me, ye cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared for the devil and his angels ... inasmuch as ye did it not unto one of these least, ye did it not unto me." Mt 25, 41 and 45. 9. Paul's further observations, concerning the manner of the judgment to come and the painful punishment of the ungodly, is sufficiently clear as rendered, and is also explained in the sermon on the Gospel text. Further explanation here is unnecessary. _Twenty Seventh Sunday After Trinity_ Text: 2 Peter 3, 3-7. TO THE READER. When the year has twenty-seven Sundays after Trinity, which seldom occurs, substitute the text of 2 Peter 3, 3-7 for the twenty-sixth Sunday and use the text of the twenty-sixth Sunday for the twenty-seventh Sunday. 
45272	----	Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. * * * * * [Illustration: cover] _Nine O'Clock Talks_ by the REV. FREDERIC B. KELLOGG Chaplain to Episcopal Students in Cambridge, Massachusetts Christ Church Cambridge, Massachusetts FOREWORD _These short sermons by the Chaplain to Episcopalian Students in Cambridge are collected here for their interest to Christians of all ages and as a reminder of the important religious work being carried on in colleges. It is a truism that the years of college are crucial for students; it is then that their interests become clear and the direction of their life's work takes shape. But for Christians, education involves more than the training of the mind and the acquisition of knowledge; it involves, like every other phase of life, enlistment of the will and dedication of the spirit. Awareness of this fact has given rise increasingly in recent years to questions concerning the proper place of religious teaching in the secular modern college and university. Without entering on that question here, one may be quite certain that a chief force in the religious life of students will always be associations for devotion and discussion such as those conducted by Mr. Kellogg under the auspices of the Bishop Rhinelander Memorial for Student Work. During his nearly ten years of service he has influenced by precept and example literally thousands of students. These sermons thus carry a double meaning. In addition to their own high value as Christian interpretations, they are tokens of a necessary work to be done._ JOHN H. FINLEY, JR. Eliot House Harvard University "_In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth._" So the Bible opens, so the world began. The historian, Arnold Toynbee, has shown us how many beginnings there have been since that time, how kingdoms rise and fall, one civilization succeeding another as new life and inspiration take the place of death and complacency. There never will be an end of beginnings or of ends so long as the world endures. A study of this historical cycle shows that mankind has never lost its hope for a deus ex machina, a God who will save men at the last moment from the effects of their own bad beginnings. It makes a good story to tell how the Gods from Olympus intervened on the behalf of their favorites on the plains of Troy but it is disastrous when men mistake this day-dream for reality. Yet at the end of each age there is to be seen a frantic scrambling for divine favor, a scurrying to the churches when the Goths threatened the Roman Empire, for example, or a bull market for indulgences as the Renaissance replaced medieval society. Men are forever trying to substitute faith in a last resort God for faith in the "beginning God". But seldom if ever has the substitution been successful. Once an avalanche of events has been loosed by the criminality or carelessness of men, God will not intervene until the tumult and the shouting have died down, and his still small voice can once more be heard. No one can mistake the fact that we are at the beginning of a new era now, an era in which events will happen more quickly and more drastically than in any period in history. And these events may be either for good or for evil depending upon whether we decide now to follow the "beginning God" rather than to postpone our faith until fear impels a grasping for a God of last resort, a deus ex machina which does not exist. To follow the true God, however, the God who is in the beginning, means a sharp change in policy; it means junking our old habits of procrastination and reliance upon self while the going is good, for then is the time that inexorable events pile up to avalanche proportions. It means starting right now to refer our decisions to him for advice with confidence in his universal judgment and never-ceasing care. A great opportunity is open to us, for I do not doubt that the first really successful age will take place when God is invited to enter the human scene at the very outset and thereby to form the pattern for the years that follow. It is a crucial opportunity, for the neighborliness and love that proceed from him are no longer optional courses but are the very conditions of survival. Why not therefore make up our minds now that we will do everything in our power this year, this month, today, to introduce the God of the beginning to the problems of the now? CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR'S If you ever examine the early Chinese vases in the Fogg Museum or elsewhere, you will note that many of them have little cracks in the glaze which run every whichway. You might conclude that these were caused by antique methods of firing the pottery, or are just the result of old age. Actually these cracks, which are known as crackle in the glaze, were made on purpose. For it seems that these vases were often given as New Year's presents, and since New Year's is celebrated by the Chinese in the spring, the crackle was made to represent the breaking-up of the ice on the rivers and lakes, the change from the hard and fastness of winter to the movement of spring. We miss something important in our symbolic thinking by not celebrating Christmas and New Year's at a time when nature herself takes a new lease on life. It is more difficult for us to realize the possibility of the breaking up of the old and the forming of the new when the ice is thickening on the ponds and the snow is driving deeper on the hills. It is hard enough as it is to become renewed in the spirit of our minds. We try instead to capture newness by thinking of a child, a symbolic child that appears on the covers of the Saturday Evening Post and the Ladies' Home Journal. Dressed in the scantiest of clothing, his chubby face covered with a broad grin, the spirit of the New Year ushers us into a new calendar. And in the hurry and excitement of the time it may have slipped our minds that only a week before we recalled a real child, a child that once was born in fact and ever since has been reborn in the souls of men. I wonder if we ever associate these two children and ponder the meaning of each, for in a way they have a joint significance. The child of New Year's means new opportunities, new openings for a world of men sick and tired of the old. Those who would live by this child alone, however, soon run into depressing frustration for they have forgotten that new things do not come easily to old men--men that are old in spirit of whatever age. They find that new opportunities can only be met and made use of by people who have a spring of newness within them; they realize that here is where newness counts most, down at the depths of the soul. And perhaps they discover--God grant that they do for it is the greatest discovery that a man can make--perhaps they discover that this is the meaning of the child of a week before. Those old words about dying to sin and rising to newness of life, of being born again like Nicodemus, or at least the reality within those words, may of a sudden catch hold of a man and shake him to the core--shake out the old egocentric habits, break up the shoddy ways of thinking, that he may be regenerate and born anew of the Christ within him. We are reminded annually on Christmas Day that a new creature is possible, a new creature with fresh reactions and an unburdened soul. We are reminded of this every time we come to the Holy Communion and hear Christ's words, "Come unto me all ye that travail and are heavy laden and I will refresh you." But response may be withheld and the opportunity passes us by. W.H. Auden states the only too often repeated case in his _Christmas Oratorio_: "Once again, As in previous years we have seen the actual Vision and failed To do more than entertain it as an agreeable Possibility, once again we have sent Him away, Begging though to remain His disobedient servant The promising child who cannot keep His word for long." That is one possibility, merely to regard the child of Christmas as a symbol, like the child of New Year's--two fabulous children who have no meaning once the holiday season is past. Or we can see in one Child the very reality of newness, a newness that we can have and use for this New Year's and every New Year's to come--the spirit of God, eternally new. "_For we have seen his star in the East and are come to worship him._" But stars that lead travellers in a fixed direction and then come and stand over houses cannot be identified astronomically--so might comment a pedestrian critic of the story of the Three Wise Men. Furthermore, the Magi if they ever did in fact exist were nothing but Babylonian priests that were versed in astrology. Astrology! we all know that scientific astronomy has long since relegated that superstitious practice to the archives of the fantastic. Yet I wonder if one of the deepest troubles of our time is that men do not see stars that lead travellers in a fixed direction. Is not the Day of the Lord long overdue when, as he said through the prophet Joel, "It shall come to pass that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions." Visions of peace and a world made new--what greater need today has the strife-ridden world than this? It may be just poetic fancy in the Epiphany season that points to a striking resemblance between the Three Wise Men following a star to the birthplace of the Prince of Peace and the delegates to the assembly of the United Nations coming from distant lands to try and make their dream of peace come true. They have seen the star at last, they have followed it to the resting place--so far all is well. But will they go through with the whole story? Have they come primarily to get or to give? Will the actions of each nation be governed purely by self-interest, to gain security, to insure colonial possessions, to learn new secrets of power for national aggrandizement? or will they instead, open their treasures and present unto him who is none other than the spirit of world brotherhood their gifts--one gold, another frankincense, another myrrh? For they have much to offer, ancient culture, glorious traditions, scientific knowledge, vast resources both material and spiritual, all things that can be used for the unlimited good of all if shared, but which if hoarded, and thus envied, can work their utter destruction. Will they come in a spirit of humility or will they come with pride in their own might and sovereignty? The Magi were wise enough to fall down and worship the Prince of Peace even though he was only just born. Are the nations equally wise to recognize the presence of embryonic peace and see in it greater import, greater worth, than in anything each one singly has to offer? Have they the courage of their convictions? It will be so today as it was before: "When Herod the King had heard these things he was troubled and all Jerusalem with him." The powers of isolationism, in all its forms of non-cooperation, suspicion, financial reaction, will be sorely troubled by the Prince of Peace and will do all in their power to kill him while still a child. And they will use all the deception that Herod employed: "Go and search diligently for the young child and when you have found him bring me word again that I may come and worship him also." Go and find out all you can about the intents and operations of the other nations so that we can use them to our advantage. Go and expose the futility of cooperation. Go make mistakes so that we can repudiate our delegates and once more return to reliance upon self and national security. Finally, will they depart into their own country another way or will they return to Herod? Nor will it be of any more use than it was with the old League of Nations if when they return they do not lead the fight at home to mobilize the forces for peace in their own countries rather than compromise with Herod. This of course they cannot do unless they have the determined support of every one of us. We must not only be ready to receive them with eagerness but we must meanwhile be following the same star as best we can, seeing the same visions, learning how to give and not just to get, practicing the same humility, exerting the same courage of our convictions. World peace cannot be accomplished merely by delegates any more than the Prince of Peace could reign with the help of three wise men alone. "_Then was Jesus led up of the spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil._" Let no one think for a moment that the devil is a fool. He used the same ingenuity with our Lord that he has shown from the day that Adam fell to the present time. And one of his favorite methods of attack reveals itself here--he waits until a man is in a spiritual wilderness before he presents the greatest temptation, for he knows that it is in loneliness that most people succumb. The temptation may be the one which our Lord faced--to try to achieve spiritual ends by worldly means. Or it may be less subtle--to give in to degrading thoughts or actions. In whichever one of the infinite forms the enticement of the devil may appear, we are most vulnerable when cut off from companionship. It is possible to be a romantic about temptation, to take the attitude of Kipling's poem "If", to glory in your own self-sufficiency when all about you are losing their heads. Or one can be a Stoic and grimly bear the vicissitudes of life by oneself, scorning the assistance of others as a sign of weakness. But the Christian solution is otherwise. It points out that the fight with temptation is generally a negative affair, a rear guard action. What we want to discover is the most efficient method of overcoming it in order to be set free for more positive and fruitful work. And the plain fact is that temptation can best be overcome with the help of others. To resist this assistance in time of need is not a virtue but a form of spiritual pride. When we pray "Lead us not into temptation" we mean at least in part, don't let the devil get us off by ourselves, for he has an easy time picking off stragglers. But he is completely frustrated by men and women who hold together in the bond of fellowship and understanding. The very same thing is true of suffering. Indeed there is a close connection between the two. There is acute suffering in resisting temptation. And there is temptation in the endurance of suffering--temptation to wallow in self-pity and despair. It may be that misery loves company for its own sake, but it is equally the case that suffering can best be dealt with in the companionship of others. Why is it that such extraordinary acts of fortitude in plain can take place in wartime? Why?--because men are fighting side by side and are upheld by the esprit de corps that is generated by a common struggle. What has all this got to do with us, you may wonder. We don't have any temptations that seem too great to handle by ourselves, nor do we have to endure intense suffering. Perhaps so, but the chances are that we won't always be so fortunate and we can never tell when it may happen. If we don't learn how to handle the present smaller trials and temptations we may be overcome by the larger ones when they come. So I suggest that you use this Lent to learn some lessons. And the first lesson is to realize your common humanity--to perceive how valuable people are to you and you to them. In the time of temptation and suffering you will not hesitate to turn to others if you have made a practice of being close to others when the going is good. Remember too that by overcoming trouble in your own life you gain new and great powers to help others through their dark periods. You then have sympathy and understanding of a kind which alone comes from suffering and you have the fibre of victory that comes only from the transcending of temptation. Finally, realize the constant presence of God. He will be your companion even when all else fails: "If I climb up into heaven thou art there If I go down to hell thou are there also. If I take the wings of the morning and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea Even there also shall thy hand lead me and thy right hand shall hold me." Temptation and suffering cannot be avoided but they can be beaten by you and through you in the company of your fellow men and with the upholding presence of God. PALM SUNDAY When Jesus rode into Jerusalem on the first Palm Sunday he must have been in great suspense. Would he be recognized in his true colors? Jesus came as king, but not the kind of king the people expected. Would the real meaning of his entrance into the city be recognized or would he again be misunderstood as he had been so often before, even by his closest friends? The crucial question was one of recognition. Would the real meaning be seen, would the signs be read aright. That is why Jesus spoke with such concern about signs and the way they should be read. "Now learn a parable of the fig tree," he said, "when his branch is yet tender and putteth forth leaves you know that summer is nigh." Signs like that in nature are unmistakable. But when it comes to sizing up a man and his meaning they are far more complex. Then real perception must be used, "for there shall arise false Christs and false prophets and shall shew great signs and wonders insomuch that if it were possible they shall deceive the very elect." How many of us spoke enthusiastically of Mussolini because Italian trains began running on time and beggars disappeared from the steps of cathedrals? How many good people were duped by Franco merely because he proclaimed allegiance to the church and Christianity? How many well meaning people are fooled by the devil in all his guises? And the reverse side of the picture has its equally discouraging aspects. Great men live and die, unrecognized and misunderstood. Men of good will are persecuted and put to death. The greatest and best of all men rode into Jerusalem and in less than a week he was hanging from a cross. The perversity of the human race seems equalled only by its foolishness. The inhabitants of Jerusalem could at least plead ignorance. The signs of the meaning of Jesus were not obvious. True, the prophet had written before in the Book of Zechariah to be on the watch for such an event. "Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion, shout O daughter of Jerusalem. Behold, thy king cometh unto thee; he is just and having salvation; lowly and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass." Jesus acquiesced in this prophetic symbolism and some did recognize him for what he was--the spiritual King, the Messiah of God. A few but only a few saw the meaning of the signs. But since that time how can man plead ignorance? The gospel has been preached in every nation of the world and has been written in a thousand languages. Basilicas, cathedrals, and monasteries have glorified him in wood and stone. The greatest artists have painted him, the greatest authors have written about him. And yet if Christ came again to one of the modern Jerusalems would the effects be much different even though we have had two thousand years to learn of him and know his ways? We have proclaimed the magnificence of our reception but have we ever really received him? Could he not say the same thing in truth as he beheld the city and wept over it: "if thou hadst known, even thou at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace." He would stand about the same chance of recognition as King today as he did then, for we too are looking in the wrong direction. They looked for a mighty man at the head of an army or a political party. We look for a Christ in pomp and circumstance in power and great glory. Perhaps then on this Palm Sunday we should try looking in the place where he was found before, and will always be found. Quietly waiting outside the city of our hearts, waiting for our recognition and acceptance. "Behold, thy king cometh unto thee; he is just and having salvation; lowly and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass." EASTER Christ the Lord is risen today. Alleluia! The purple veil is lifted from the Cross, the Altar, bare through Lent, is now adorned with flowers, for the agony of Good Friday has given way to the rejoicing of the Resurrection. Joyful people crowd the churches to proclaim the yearly rediscovered fact that Christ has opened the way through darkness into light and has turned man's sorrow into gladness. Christ the Lord is risen today. Alleluia. But for the thoughtful, I wonder if there isn't another theme that runs in a minor key throughout the Easter music. I wonder if Easter isn't for many a day of joyous farewells. Christ has risen to sit at the right hand of the throne of God and we glory in that fact; but don't we feel like saying with Thomas, "Lord, we know not whither thou goest and how can we know the way." There may be many mansions in the house of God but they seem so very remote. Even our Lord's assurance that he is the way, the truth and the life does not quite fill the place in our hearts left hollow by his departure. For forty days and nights he has been among us sharing our humanity, its problems and its pains. He has been with us in anxiety, in sleeplessness, in sorrow. He has been so human, indeed, that we have forgotten his descent. We are not prepared to lose our old familiar friend. It may be that in normal times, by which we mean in thoughtless times, his absence is not greatly felt or is soon forgotten. But who is there among us now that does not feel the burden of human war and peace? Who is there that has not needed friendship to take the place of loss, that has not looked for counsel and strength beyond the limits of his own life? And for these, the Lord has been a present help in time of trouble. He has been a man among men, by our side, to lead us on our way. Now Easter comes, our Lord has risen. Christ has become King, a God of Gods. Yet here we remain, we haven't changed, our problems are the same, our needs the same. "Love's redeeming work is done, fought the fight the battle won," we sing. But there is still the overtone of sadness in the Easter music which might even become a note of irony. Love's work is done? The battle won? Not in our world it isn't, far from it. We'd better postpone Easter till better times are come. Lent has meaning now, one long unswerving Lent, with discipline and hard work. But wait a moment. We see the veil is lifted from the Cross this Easter day, and now the cross stands clear and shadowless upon the Altar. Does that signify the end of suffering, or is there here an Easter meaning for these times more potent and impelling than ever Lent has brought? It is said that Constantine the Great, returning from his victory over Maxentius, saw in the sky these words, "In hoc signo vinces," and thereafter he placed the Cross upon his standard. The cross is brighter still on Easter for it is an earnest that yet again through its sign we shall conquer. The cross reminds us too that though he is risen, he is in no way further from us than before. He still bears upon himself the marks of the cross--the marks of Lent made meaningful by Easter. The cross has by no means disappeared, rather it has been vindicated, death has not vanished but it has been overcome, suffering will continue but it can be transformed. Let us then rejoice and be exceeding glad this Easter of all Easters for the way of the cross has proved to be the way of Life and Victory. "_But the comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance._" Canon Quick of Durham wrote a most thought-provoking paragraph in his book _Doctrines of the Creed_. "One essential paradox of Christianity," he wrote, "consists in the fact that, although when viewed from outside it is one of the religions of the world, when it is known from within it is not a religion at all, nor even the true religion only, but something inherently more than religion; it is a whole social life of Communion in God among men, a communion which embraces both sacred and secular activities and is altogether transfigured by the pervading presence of God's love." And what gives Christianity this extraordinary combination of breadth and depth is the event of Whitsunday--the coming of the Holy Spirit. As St. John says, "the Holy Spirit will teach you all things"--that is the breadth--and will "bring all things to your remembrance" about the earthly life and teaching of Christ--that is the depth. All through Christian history, but particularly today, two opposing tendencies can be seen at work. One is the desire to liberalize Christianity and make it more inclusive. Some, noting the good in out of the way places--there is honesty among thieves and there is sincerity among atheists, would push Christianity to a point where it would include all good wherever found and in whatever combination. The logical conclusion would be to turn it into a kind of pantheism--a catch-all for all truth, goodness, and beauty. A good Buddhist is really a good Christian whether he knows it or not, they would say, in spite of the fact that he would be considerably annoyed to be told so. In this drive to be comprehensive, the specific doctrines of the church would have to be scrapped or soft-pedalled and the emphasis be put upon right living, whatever that is. If you feel at this point like smiling in superior fashion at these liberalizers, examine your own mind for a moment and see if at least part of you doesn't agree with this. For example, have you ever felt or said about so-and-so who is an agnostic and never darkens the door of a church, that he is a better Christian than you, since he is more generous, more courageous, more generally virtuous? And this you say, not out of humility, but from a suspicion that he is in better touch with the source of goodness than you are. And I could go on to point out other reasons why we would like to extend the label of Christianity as far as possible. But the opposite tendency is also strong within us. Make Christianity precise, define carefully its limits and make membership within it rigorous and single-minded. I heard of a clergyman, who when asked how his congregation was doing, replied, "Fine-thinning 'em out, thinning 'em out." We are aware of the strength that lies in narrowness and secretly covet the simplification and order of an authoritarian church. However forceful these opposing tendencies may be we know at least that neither one can be allowed to run wild without disaster to Christianity. There must be an integrating force that holds these together and leads to the productiveness that flows out of the tension between them. That force is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father, through the Son. He always refers back to Christ as the incarnate center of Christian life, and thence to God who is the source of the love that binds men into one communion and fellowship. Confusion exists because there are many spirits in the world--spirits of a nation, of humanity, of progress. But these are never to be identified with the Holy Spirit, who always brings to remembrance Christ himself, who must become the corner stone of all life everywhere. To be apart from him is to be apart from God. To forget this is the danger of liberalism. But on the other hand, the Holy Spirit will teach you all things, and as Canon Quick says, "is the moving spirit in the Communion in God among men, a Communion which embraces all things both sacred and secular and cannot be confined to man-made limitations." In forgetting this lies the danger of sectarianism. The work of the Holy Spirit begins with Christ and continues to the end of the earth. That is the spirit we pray for and can expect to receive on Whitsunday. Don't be content with anything less. THE BLIND CAN LEAD THE BLIND The story is told of a blind man who wanted to free himself from the restrictions of his handicap by going about without his usual guide. With the use of a stick, he found he could leave his house and walk down the street well enough, but when he came to the crossing where the cars drove by in unending stream he could not get himself to start across, although he knew that the drivers would almost certainly stop when they saw him leave the curb. He didn't quite have the confidence and was turning back discouraged with himself, when he felt a hand on his arm, and a voice said, "May I go across with you?" Reassured, he and his companion stepped out into the street, the cars came to a halt, and they proceeded across safely. When they got to the far side he was about to thank his friend, but before he could do so the other said, "I'm much obliged to you for your assistance in crossing the street, for, you see, I'm blind." A passage from the Bible comes immediately to mind, does it not? "And he spoke a parable unto them, Can the blind lead the blind, shall they not both fall into the ditch?" The answer is no, not necessarily. Blind men may be excellent guides; it all depends on where the blindness lies. Our Lord was warning us of men who are blind in the eyes of the mind and spirit. As Marianne Moore wrote in her poem "In Distrust of Merits": "Job disheartened by false comfort, knew that nothing can be so defeating as a blind man who can see. O alive who are dead, who are proud not to see. O small dust of the earth that walks so arrogantly." These are the people to guard against, the blind who can see. On the other hand, many men are coming back from the war who have lost the sight of their eyes, but it would be fatal for the world to imagine them all blind. They have seen and known what most of us have escaped, the horrors of war, and it is their compelling experience that we need to help fight against the seeds of another war. Blind men may be excellent guides, (and in the last analysis aren't we all blind?) but they also need faith--they must have faith in the insights of each other, they must have confidence that together they can reach their destination. The men in the story could not accomplish what they wanted by themselves but when they joined forces they got the necessary confidence to go ahead. But that's what faith entails. Joining forces with men who rely primarily on the eye of the mind and spirit. And that's the faith we all need so desperately in the days to come. How far do you think you can get without the insights and understanding of others? Look at the past. How much wisdom have you acquired all by yourself apart from the experiences of humanity that you have met in books or face to face? We are embarked on a highly cooperative adventure in this life. Let no man pride himself on his own ability to reach his destination alone; nor let him feel a coward for needing the assistance of others. Most of us know this well enough at least in large sections of our living--our culture, our business, our enjoyments are clearly mutual enterprises. Neither conceit nor ignominy are apt to enter these, for it is only too obvious how much we depend upon our fellow humans. But oddly enough, when it comes to our religion, where mutual faith becomes the clearest necessity, that is the point at which we frequently leave our fellow blind men and plunge off by ourselves. Why people suppose that they can find God, their ultimate destination, by themselves, is a unique mystery. Why, to put it more concretely, a man can claim to have his own religion and not need the corporate advice and encouragement of the church can only be understood if he is content with a fragmentary faith, content to leave his house, walk down the sidewalk, but never cross the street to the other side. That kind of blind man would indeed fall into the ditch and all who followed him blindly would end there too. It all depends upon mutual faith, mutual confidence in each other. One of the great pictures by Pieter Breughel the Elder shows a procession of blind men entering a river. The casual observer would suppose that they were all about to be drowned; that is if he observed in a superficial way. But the subtlety and greatness of the picture lies in the fact that that is not the only possible conclusion. They may be making their way across. It all depends upon what is in their minds. They may be blind, but they may not be following blindly. They may have the same faith of the two men in the story that will bring them safely across. "And when Jesus departed thence, two blind men followed him, crying, and saying, Thou Son of David, have mercy on us. And when he was come into the house, the blind men came to him: and Jesus saith unto them, Believe ye that I am able to do this? They said unto him, Yea, Lord. Then touched he their eyes, saying, According to your faith be it unto you. And their eyes were opened." Is it just a coincidence that there were two blind men in this story and not just one? Two men who had faith in God and in each other, and faith that together they could reach their final destination. "_If Satan also be divided against himself how shall his kingdom stand?_" The answer, of course, is that it won't stand any more than any other house. But unfortunately the forces of evil seem to recognize this fact more clearly than do the forces of good. Satan and his followers cling together so tenaciously because they know what they want and they realize that they must be unified in order to get it. Just compare Germany and France at the beginning of the war. The Nazis had one all-consuming aim behind their actions--to conquer the world--and because of this unity of purpose they came within a hair's breadth of succeeding. Indeed they would have done so had it not been for a unity of desperation forged at the last moment between vastly stronger nations. On the other hand, France didn't begin to know her own mind until it was too late. Conflicting interests and internal antagonisms made her a pathetically easy prey for the invader. The fact is that the natural tendency among humans is to differ rather than to agree. Centrifugal force seems to be stronger in society than centripetal, and this is why so many houses are brought to desolation. But just because divisiveness is natural, it does not follow that nothing can be done to keep men together. It merely means that unity has constantly to be made or it will not come about. The drift is not in that direction. Here is a place where man must use his freedom of choice and will, to transcend his inclinations. Fatalism and unity do not mix. This being the case, where are man's unifying efforts particularly needed today? The area where politics rises above itself is one of the most crucial for future world welfare. There are many elements in politics which are of necessity partisan and controversial. In fact, His Majesty's loyal opposition or the equivalent is essential to progressive government. But the fundamentals which all should have in common must not therefore be neglected. No politician in this country ever rose to such heights of community understanding as did Abraham Lincoln, and the great words he used, "government of the people, by the people, and for the people," states clearly that underlying unity without which democracy becomes anarchy. But it is not merely coincidental that this famous phrase appeared first in the preface that John Wyclif wrote to his translation of the Bible. Unity comes from God in the sense that He wills men to achieve it. On a national scale partisanship must not allow another post-war fiasco, and it is appalling to hear that certain people are still firmly opposed to a world organization. On the local scene, religious, racial and social antagonisms have brought about a shameful state in the educational systems of our cities. Can't the welfare of our children be a matter of united action? It must become so. Our heritage from the reformation is another value which we are in the process of losing because of disunity. At a public hearing in New York City recently the question came up why certain individuals had received no attention. A social worker remarked, "Oh, they are only P.P.P.s" When asked what this meant he replied, "Poor, powerless protestants." Protestant unity is the first step toward Christian unity and world-wide religious cooperation. And it takes only a moment of sober, realistic thought to see that all Christians have vastly more in common than they have in particular. Why not spend more time and thought rejoicing in and applying the unity that already exists instead of magnifying our differences? What it all comes down to is an attitude of mind. Do we try and cultivate our ability to agree when we can, to see the scope of our common aims, or are we consistently developing our divergences? Take the time to analyze yourself in this regard. If we take pride in our contrariness we are playing straight into the hands of the devil, for he is not making the mistake of a divided house himself--rather he is waiting for us to fall into that desolation. But if we hold steadfastly to the implications of the Christian doctrine of one God and all men as his equally valuable children, we are headed for a final victory in world brotherhood, the place where victory counts most. "_Put on the whole armour of God._" Very few passages in the Bible are as well known or as highly esteemed as this exhortation to stand against the wiles of the devil. And certainly it has an immediate bearing today when the outcome of the battle between good and evil is crucial for the very existence of civilization. But this passage has a potentially misleading character about it which may have a disastrous effect upon the waging of the battle. Much of it sounds purely defensive. "To withstand in the evil day", "to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked"--the word "armour" even has the connotation of protection. All this can easily play into the hands of those who have the notion that the main duty of a Christian is to keep himself unspotted from the world. Like the three famous monkeys of the East, who see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil, it is thought that evil itself will somehow cease to exist if it is merely avoided. Of course there is some truth in this point of view in as much as the Christian must have adequate defensive equipment, but it must be forever emphasized that the vital element in the armour of God is the last one that St. Paul mentions, namely, the sword of the Spirit which is the word of God. For we can be sure that all the breastplates, helmets, and shields ever made will be of little effect by themselves in defeating the principalities, the powers and the rulers of the darkness of this world. That is like building a tank of the most shell-proof armour but not putting in a powerful engine and a hard hitting gun. It just won't win battles. Indeed, the most alarming sign of these times is the tendency to go onto the defensive, to try to side-step problems which appear to be too great to solve. It is a sign that the end of our era may be at hand. When the French Army came to the Marne in its retreat on Paris in the first world war, defeat seemed imminent. At that moment General Foch made his memorable decision. "My center is giving way, my right is pushed back--excellent! I'll attack." As we know, that attack saved France. And as we also know, the lack of attack in this last war brought France's downfall. Without the sword of the Spirit, which is the spirit of the offensive, the most that can be hoped for is that defeat may be delayed. But it will surely come. And defeat will surely come to this nation unless we take the offensive in solving the titanic problem of power that we have suddenly found in our hands. It cannot be hid under a bushel, it cannot be evaded, it cannot be kept to ourselves. It must be shared, for that is what the offensive means in this case--the exploration and achievement of new methods of cooperation which have never yet been tried. Small-minded and fearful men think only of retreat--retreat into self-protection. But the alternative to one world now is one Hell, or even more accurately one complete annihilation. It may seem like an anti-climax to say that your own personal defeat will come in the same way if you put your faith in defensive armour and fail to acquire and use the sword of the spirit. It may have been possible in years gone by to live blandly in the Puritan house on the hill where all questionable literature was carefully banned, where temptation was kept at a minimum; where the turmoil, poverty and disease of the factory-filled valley could not be seen. But that is no longer possible because the ways of the valley and the hill have met. It never was Christian, it was merely rationalized egotism, to escape the problems of evil and call it purity. The Christian paradox must never be forgotten that dirty water washes clean when used in the service of God. The time has come both personally and nationally to put on the whole armour of God in order to take the offensive against the powers of darkness of this world. "_How oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Till seven times?_" When Peter asked this leading question he may have been trying to seem magnanimous. For Jewish law required only a threefold forgiveness, after which, apparently, you were free to take revenge. Our Lord rejected this whole legalistic approach by his reply and penetrated, as he always did, to the inner spirit of the matter. Until seventy times seven was a traditional way of saying "without limit." He was trying to make Peter realize that to attach numbers to an action of this kind prevents your heart from being in it. Even if there were no chance of your brother sinning against you more than seven times, you were not really forgiving him the first time as long as you had a limit set to the extent of your forgiveness. The forgiving love of God, which is the pattern for the same spirit in man, has no boundaries, no qualifications. But hasn't it? you may well ask. Doesn't the Lord's prayer set a condition to his forgiveness of trespasses that we forgive those who trespass against us? Doesn't the parable of the unmerciful servant which follows Peter's question end with the stern "So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you if ye from your hearts forgive not everyone his brother their trespasses." No, to regard this as a condition to God's forgiveness is to misunderstand radically the way God works, to mistake his very nature. To regard him as a bargainer, an exchanger of favors, is to descend to the really false kind of anthropomorphism which is to impute to him our weaknesses rather than to find in us his strength. God's forgiveness flows from him continuously. When we do not experience it, it is because we fail to allow it to operate. To put the situation in its real terms, unless we learn to apply the spirit of forgiveness toward others we can never expect to discover the meaning of God's forgiveness in our own lives--we can never forgive ourselves; for that is one step more difficult than forgiving others. This may sound like nonsense at first. Difficult to forgive ourselves? Why that's easy, we reply. We are always coating over our mistakes, rationalizing our errors. But don't you see? In the very use of the words coating over and rationalizing, we admit that there is a core of guilt there somewhere that has not been forgiven but just covered up temporarily--and if the truth were known, allowed to fester and grow till its effect becomes deadly indeed. If you don't believe this, explore the inner recesses of your mind and look for a minute at the gallery of thoughts and actions you are trying to forget because they hurt. They hurt you still because they have never been touched by God's forgiveness. You have not learned the spirit of forgiveness toward others sufficiently to apply it to yourself. But suppose you have tried to be forgiving and found it difficult or well-nigh impossible. It actually is not an easy thing to learn. And it cannot be accomplished merely by saying to oneself in a stern voice, "Forgive others and forgive yourself." Much could be said on how to learn, but one point stands out above the rest as wise counsel. Look at others and yourself with a sense of perspective. Our brother sins against us, the magnifying glass is brought out and focussed upon that sin, and our brother appears entirely sinful. We ourselves commit a sin, the microscope is turned upon that spot in us, and all our good seems evil in its darkness. Learn to take away the magnification as soon as the trouble is sufficiently examined. See again the good which greatly outweighs the evil, for that good is the light in which forgiveness thrives. "How oft shall I or my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?" I hope you know by now. "_For our citizenship is in Heaven._" One of the greatest works on the philosophy of history is St. Augustine's _City of God_. Though written in the dark days after the sack of Rome by the Goths, it has perhaps an even more immediate bearing upon these brighter times because it is now that we are in the greatest danger of taking a nationally self-sufficient view of history. St. Augustine saw that a Christian is a citizen of two worlds--the Earthly City and the City of God. These two cities have been formed by two loves: the earthly, by love of self even to the contempt of God; the Heavenly, by the love of God even to the contempt of self. The earthly city is the state, and although it is a relative good, it must exist to maintain civil order in a sinful world. The city of God is the ultimate good where man's highest loyalty must reside, for as St. Paul pointed out, our true citizenship is in Heaven. Our Lord himself recognized this double responsibility of man when he told the Pharisees "to render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's and unto God the things which are God's." This shouldn't be too hard to comprehend, and yet history reveals the repeated error and tragedy of man's desire to be a citizen of one world or the other, but not both. Perhaps the difficulty lies in the fact that citizenship itself is a two-fold affair. It involves one's allegiance to a state and it also entitles the citizen to the protection of that state. It may be, therefore, that a double allegiance is too much for most men to bear, or it may be that the protection of the earthly state seems so much more tangible. In any event, the "either-or-ness" has been most unfortunate in its consequences. To be a citizen of Heaven alone is more difficult for the average American to understand. Few men these days are tempted to go off into the desert and live an other-worldly life in prayer and contemplation with the sole desire of saving their own souls. And yet a more subtle form of this escapism is the chief object of the attack made by politically liberal and radical groups upon Christianity. Socialists and Communists have with good reason charged that much of every man's Christianity is a Sunday escapism with little or no effect upon his daily living, unrelated to his civic responsibilities and to existing evils. Bad as this may be, the opposite form of single statism would seem to be more devastating in our present situation. When Stephen Decatur made his famous toast to "Our Country, in her intercourse with foreign nations may she always be in the right, but our country, right or wrong," he revealed the stupid tragedy of all the many forms of the American First principle. But he incidentally admitted the existence and necessity of a superior standard of judgment by which the nation is seen to be either right or wrong. Unless our citizenship is in Heaven we cannot be effective and reliable citizens of this country or any country on earth. All we are fitted for without it is to be slaves to a Fascist state, saluting and goose-stepping moronically at the command of a self-appointed leader. We must have a basis for judging even our own country and our most honored institutions. This nation is in the midst of the most important decisions any people on earth have ever faced. If we make them as members of the Earthly City alone, which as St. Augustine said is formed by love of self even to the contempt of God, we or our descendants will witness the final form of uncritical patriotism: the end of our state in the end of all civilization. But if those in authority, pressed on by us, will recognize their ultimate allegiance to the City of God which transcends all national sovereignty and boundaries there is good hope that the decision will be made for the good of all mankind and not simply for our destruction. If they or we are fearful in this fatal moment, we might remember the other side of citizenship--as members of the City of God we are also entitled to its protection and its power. Remember the experience of Elisha and his servant. And Elisha prayed and said, "Lord, I pray thee open his eyes that he may see. And then the Lord opened the eyes of the young man and he saw, And behold the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha." "_Forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forth unto those things which are before._" One might well assume that these words of St. Paul are an accepted part of all theories of progress; looking forward instead of backward. But Lewis Mumford in his book _The Condition of Man_ points out that this has unfortunately not always been the case, to the confusion and sidetracking of mankind's efforts. Progress, he says, may be considered in either of two ways--getting closer to a goal, or getting farther away from a starting point. And it was in the latter sense that the exponents of progress in the era of Romanticism; Hume, Voltaire, and the others, preached it--the casting loose from a past crippled by evils: brutality, superstition, ignorance, misery. But have these curses disappeared from the earth? Have they not in many respects grown worse? I am afraid so, and I think it is due in large part to this negative theory of progress which has possessed man since the Renaissance. The intended cures of evils have been too often sought purely as an escape from the evil itself and not with a view to ultimate good. Serfdom and slavery were evil, so men broke away and became free; but free for what? That was of little consequence as long as they were free. The Germans felt the pressure of other nations around them so they needs must make more Lebensraum--room in which to be free. And what nation has ever become so enslaved in the process? We didn't want war, and so with the mounting fear of war before our eyes, we temporized until the greatest war in history came upon us. An individual realizes how great is his own selfishness and so to overcome it, he concentrates upon self-centered cure and becomes even more entangled. No, this kind of progress is no progress at all, but rather a circle back into greater evil. Man was not made to run with his eyes turned backward. He will inevitably fall into the same or deeper pit. The only true and effective kind of progress is progress toward a goal with that goal clearly and constantly before our eyes. We want peace. What then is peace? It certainly is not the mere avoidance of war. It is rather the achievement of those conditions which allow for men's dependance upon each other with greater mutual respect and affection. We want internal national harmony. Does that come from the suppression of the demands of labor or the abolition of the guidance of management? Certainly not. It comes from a joint appreciation of the values of living without which there is no possible common ground. Do you as an individual want to grow in wisdom and stature? Yes, certainly. But that will not come from mere reaction to your past; although that is a delusion under which many men labor. This frequently reveals itself in their attitude toward religion. Almost everyone goes through a period of reaction against religion and all that it stands for. It usually happens about Sophomore year in college. Actually it is a reaction against the authority of our parents, our school teachers and our unthinking past in general. It is necessary for each one to think out his purposes and goals, his religion for himself, or else it will never have his whole hearted support. But because of this confusion between authority and religion many people reject both together and forever after are motivated by reactions and not by any real positive ideal. They are the followers of the illusory theory of progress and are forever in frustration. No, if you would make real progress you must start as soon as possible disentangling your ultimate ends from your reaction to your beginnings; keeping what is true for you and discarding what is false. Once this process is begun, it must be continued and developed until you have a religion that really pulls you on, until you are reaching forth unto those things which are before, until you have found the God who is your God and in whom you live and move and have your being. Twelve hundred copies printed by Harvard University Printing Office. Designed by Philip Hofer, Department of Printing and Graphic Arts of the Harvard Library, with Charles Grassinger of the Harvard Printing Office. Additional copies of "Nine O'Clock Talks" may be obtained for $.75 each from the Bishop Rhinelander Memorial, Christ Church, Cambridge, Mass. Proceeds from the sale of these books will go to the Chaplain's fund for work with students in Cambridge. 
26035	----	produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) RELIGION AND THEOLOGY A SERMON FOR THE TIMES PREACHED IN THE PARISH CHURCH OF CRATHIE, 5TH SEPTEMBER AND IN THE COLLEGE CHURCH, ST ANDREWS BY JOHN TULLOCH, D.D. PRINCIPAL AND PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY, ST MARY'S COLLEGE, IN THE UNIVERSITY OF ST ANDREWS, AND ONE OF HER MAJESTY'S CHAPLAINS IN ORDINARY IN SCOTLAND SECOND EDITION WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS EDINBURGH AND LONDON MDCCCLXXV _WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ I. HISTORY OF RATIONAL THEOLOGY AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY IN ENGLAND IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. Second Edition, 2 vols. 8vo, £1, 8s. Edinburgh Review. The pleasure with which Principal Tulloch explores this comparatively unknown field communicates itself to his readers, and the academic groves of Oxford and Cambridge are invested with the freshness of a new glory. Athenæum. It is rich in pregnant and suggestive thought. Saturday Review. Here we must take our respectful leave of this large-minded, lively, and thoughtful work, which deserves to the full the acceptance it cannot fail to receive. Spectator. Every thoughtful and liberal Englishman who reads these volumes will feel that Principal Tulloch has laid him under obligations in writing them. British Quarterly Review. Ample scholarship, well-disciplined powers, catholic sympathies, and a masculine eloquence, give it a high place among modern contributions to theological science. Nonconformist. From his lively portraits they will learn to know some of the finest spirits England has produced; while from his able and comprehensive summaries of the works they left behind them, any reader of quick intelligence may acquaint himself with their leading thoughts. II. THEISM: THE WITNESS OF REASON AND NATURE TO AN ALL-WISE AND BENEFICENT CREATOR. Octavo, 10s. 6d. Christian Remembrancer. Dr Tulloch's Essay, in its masterly statement of the real nature and difficulties of the subject, its logical exactness in distinguishing the illustrative from the suggestive, its lucid arrangement of the argument, its simplicity of expression, is quite unequalled by any work we have seen on the subject. WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS, EDINBURGH AND LONDON. RELIGION AND THEOLOGY. 2 Cor. xi. 3.--"The simplicity that is in Christ." There is much talk in the present time of the difficulties of religion. And no doubt there is a sense in which religion is always difficult. It is hard to be truly religious--to be humble, good, pure, and just; to be full of faith, hope, and charity, so that our conduct may be seen to be like that of Christ, and our light to shine before men. But when men speak so much nowadays of the difficulties of religion, they chiefly mean intellectual and not practical difficulties. Religion is identified with the tenets of a Church system, or of a theological system; and it is felt that modern criticism has assailed these tenets in many vulnerable points, and made it no longer easy for the open and well-informed mind to believe things that were formerly held, or professed to be held, without hesitation. Discussions and doubts which were once confined to a limited circle when they were heard of at all, have penetrated the modern mind through many avenues, and affected the whole tone of social intelligence. This is not to be denied. For good or for evil such a result has come about; and we live in times of unquiet thought, which form a real and painful trial to many minds. It is not my intention at present to deplore or to criticise this modern tendency, but rather to point out how it may be accepted, and yet religion in the highest sense saved to us, if not without struggle (for that is always impossible in the nature of religion), yet without that intellectual conflict for which many minds are entirely unfitted, and which can never be said in itself to help religion in any minds. The words which I have taken as my text seem to me to suggest a train of thought having an immediate bearing on this subject. St Paul has been speaking of himself in the passage from which the text is taken. He has been commending himself--a task which is never congenial to him. But his opponents in the Corinthian Church had forced this upon him; and now he asks that he may be borne with a little in "his folly." He is pleased to speak of his conduct in this way, with that touch of humorous irony not unfamiliar to him when writing under some excitement. He pleads with his old converts for so much indulgence, because he is "jealous over them with a godly jealousy." He had won them to the Lord. "I have espoused you," he says, "to one husband, that I may present you as a chaste virgin to Christ." This had been his unselfish work. He had sought nothing for himself, but all for Christ. That they should belong to Christ--as the bride to the bridegroom--was his jealous anxiety. But others had come in betwixt them and him--nay, betwixt them and Christ, as he believed--and sought to seduce and corrupt their minds by divers doctrines. "I fear, lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled Eve through his subtilty, so your minds should be corrupted from _the simplicity that is in Christ_." What the special corruptions from Christian simplicity were with which the minds of St Paul's Corinthian converts were assailed, it is not necessary for us now to inquire. Their special dangers are not likely to be ours. What concerns us is the fact, that both St Paul and Christ--his Master and ours--thought of religion as something simple. Attachment to Christ was a simple personal reality, illustrated by the tie which binds the bride, as a chaste virgin, to the bridegroom. It was not an ingenuity, nor a subtilty, nor a ceremony. It involved no speculation or argument. Its essence was personal and emotional, and not intellectual. The true analogy of religion, in short, is that of simple affection and trust. Subtilty may, in itself, be good or evil. It may be applied for a religious no less than for an irreligious purpose, as implied in the text. But it is something entirely different from the "simplicity that is in Christ." It is not to be supposed that religion is or can be ever rightly dissociated from intelligence. An intelligent perception of our own higher wants, and of a higher power of love that can alone supply these wants, is of its very nature. There must be knowledge in all religion--knowledge of ourselves, and knowledge of the Divine. It was the knowledge of God in Christ communicated by St Paul that had made the Corinthians Christians. But the knowledge that is essential to religion is a simple knowledge like that which the loved has of the person who loves--the bride of the bridegroom, the child of the parent. It springs from the personal and spiritual, and not from the cognitive or critical side of our being; from the heart, and not from the head. Not merely so; but if the heart or spiritual sphere be really awakened in us--if there be a true stirring of life here, and a true seeking towards the light--the essence and strength of a true religion may be ours, although we are unable to answer many questions that may be asked, or to solve even the difficulties raised by our own intellect. The text, in short, suggests that there is a religious sphere, distinct and intelligible by itself, which is not to be confounded with the sphere of theology or science. This is the sphere in which Christ worked, and in which St Paul also, although not so exclusively, worked after Him. This is the special sphere of Christianity, or at least of the Christianity of Christ. And it is this, as it appears to us, important distinction to which we now propose to direct your attention. Let us try to explain in what respects the religion of Christ is really apart from those intellectual and dogmatic difficulties with which it has been so much mixed up. I. It is so, first of all, in the comparatively simple order of facts with which it deals. Nothing can be simpler or more comprehensive than our Lord's teaching. He knew what was in man. He knew, moreover, what was in God towards man as a living power of love, who had sent Him forth "to seek and save the lost;" and beyond these great facts, of a fallen life to be restored, and of a higher life of divine love and sacrifice, willing and able to restore and purify this fallen life, our Lord seldom traversed. Unceasingly He proclaimed the reality of a spiritual life in man, however obscured by sin, and the reality of a divine life above him, which had never forsaken him nor left him to perish in his sin. He held forth the need of man, and the grace and sacrifice of God on behalf of man. And within this double order of spiritual facts His teaching may be said to circulate. He dealt, in other words, with the great ideas of God and the soul, which can alone live in Him, however it may have sunk away from Him. These were to Him the realities of all life and all religion. There are those, I know, in our day, to whom these ideas are mere assumptions--"dogmas of a tremendous kind," to assume which is to assume everything. But with this order of thought we have in the meantime nothing to do. The questions of materialism are outside of Christianity altogether. They were nothing to Christ, whose whole thought moved in a higher sphere of personal love, embracing this lower world. The spiritual life was to Him the life of reality and fact; and so it is to all who live in Him and know in Him. The soul and God are, if you will, dogmas to science. They cannot well be anything else to a vision which is outside of them, and cannot from their very nature ever reach them. But within the religious sphere they are primary experiences, original and simple data from which all others come. And our present argument is, that Christ dealt almost exclusively with these broad and simple elements of religion, and that He believed the life of religion to rest within them. He spoke to men and women as having souls to be saved; and He spoke of Himself and of God as able and willing to save them. This was the "simplicity" that was in Him. Everywhere in the Gospels this simplicity is obvious. Our Lord came forth from no school. There is no traditional scheme of thought lying behind his words which must be mastered before these words are understood. But out of the fulness of His own spiritual nature He spoke to the spiritual natures around Him, broken, helpless, and worsted in the conflict with evil as He saw them. "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me," He said at the opening of His Galilean ministry, "because He hath anointed me to preach the Gospel to the poor, to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised."[1] These were the great realities that confronted Him in life; and His mission was to restore the divine powers of humanity thus everywhere impoverished, wounded, and enslaved. He healed the sick and cured the maimed by His simple word. He forgave sins. He spoke of good news to the miserable. All who had erred and gone out of the way--who had fallen under the burthen, or been seduced by the temptations, of life--He invited to a recovered home of righteousness and peace. He welcomed the prodigal, rescued the Magdalene, took the thief with Him to Paradise. And all this He did by His simple word of grace: "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."[2] "If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him!"[3] This was the Christianity of Christ. This is the Gospel. It is the essence of all religion--that we feel ourselves in special need or distress, and that we own a Divine Power willing to give us what we need, and to save us from our distress. Other questions outside of this primary range of spiritual experience may be important. They are not vital. What is the soul? What is the divine nature? What is the Church? In what way and by what means does divine grace operate? What is the true meaning of Scripture, and the character of its inspiration and authority? Whence has man sprung, and what is the character of the future before him? These are all questions of the greatest interest; but they are questions of theology and not of religion. I do not say that they have no bearing upon religion. On the contrary, they have a significant bearing upon it. And your religion and my religion will be modified and coloured by the answers we give or find to them. We cannot separate the life and character of any man from his opinions. It is nevertheless true that our religious life, or the force of divine inspiration and peace within us, do not depend upon the answers we are able to give to such questions. It is the function of theology, as of other sciences, to ask questions, whether it can answer them or not. The task of the theologian is a most important one--whether or not it be, as has been lately said,[4] "the noblest of all the tasks which it is given to the human mind to pursue." None but a sciolist will depreciate such a task; and none but a sceptic will doubt the value of the conclusions which may be thus reached. But all this is quite consistent with our position. The welfare of the soul is not involved in such matters as I have mentioned. A man is not good or bad, spiritual or unspiritual, according to the view he takes of them. Men may differ widely regarding them, and not only be equally honest, but equally sharers of the mind of Christ. And this is peculiarly the case with many questions of the present day, such as the antiquity of man, the age and genesis of the earth, the origin and authority of the several books of Scripture. Not one of these questions, first of all, can be answered without an amount of special knowledge which few possess; and secondly, the answer to all of them must be sought in the line of pure scientific and literary inquiry. Mere authority, if we could find any such authority, would be of no avail to settle any of them. Modern theology must work them out by the fair weapons of knowledge and research, with no eye but an eye to the truth. Within this sphere there is no light but the dry light of knowledge. But are our spiritual wants to wait the solution of such questions? Am I less a sinner, or less weary with the burden of my own weakness and folly? Is Christ less a Saviour? Is there less strength and peace in Him whatever be the answer given to such questions? Because I cannot be sure whether the Pentateuch was written, as long supposed, by Moses--or whether the fourth Gospel comes as it stands from the beloved apostle--am I less in need of the divine teaching which both these Scriptures contain? Surely not. That I am a spiritual being, and have spiritual needs craving to be satisfied, and that God is a spiritual power above me, of whom Christ is the revelation, are facts which I may know or may not know, quite irrespective of such matters. The one class of facts are intellectual and literary. The other are spiritual if they exist at all. If I ever know them, I can only know them through my own spiritual experience; but if I know them--if I realise myself as a sinner and in darkness, and Christ as my Saviour and the light of my life--I have within me all the genuine forces of religious strength and peace. I may not have all the faith of the Church. I may have many doubts, and may come far short of the catholic dogma. But faith is a progressive insight, and dogma is a variable factor. No sane man nowadays has the faith of the medievalist. No modern Christian can think in many respects as the Christians of the seventeenth century, or of the twelfth century, or of the fourth century. No primitive Christian would have fully understood Athanasius in his contest against the world. It was very easy at one time to chant the Athanasian hymn--it is easy for some still; but very hard for others. Are the latter worse or better Christians on this account? Think, brethren, of St Peter and St Andrew taken from their boats; of St Matthew as he sat at the receipt of custom; of the good Samaritan; the devout centurion; of curious Zaccheus; of the repentant prodigal; of St James, as he wrote that a man is "justified by works, and not by faith only;"[5] of Apollos, "mighty in the Scriptures," who "was instructed in the way of the Lord; and being fervent in the spirit, spake and taught diligently the things of the Lord," and yet who only knew "the baptism of John;"[6] of the disciples at Ephesus who had "not so much as heard whether there be any Holy Ghost;"[7] think of all the poor and simple ones who have gone to heaven with Christ in their hearts, "the hope of glory," and yet who have never known with accuracy any Christian dogma whatever,--and you can hardly doubt how distinct are the spheres of religion and of theology, and how far better than all theological definitions is the "honest and good heart," which, "having heard the Word, keeps it, and brings forth fruit with patience."[8] II. But religion differs from theology, not only in the comparatively simple and universal order of the facts with which it deals, but also because the facts are so much more verifiable in the one case than in the other. They can so much more easily be found out to be true or not. It has been sought of late, in a well-known quarter, to bring all religion to this test--and the test is not an unfair one if legitimately applied. But it is not legitimate to test spiritual facts simply as we test natural facts; such facts, for example, as that fire burns, or that a stone thrown from the hand falls to the ground. The presumption of all supernatural religion is that there is a spiritual or supernatural sphere, as real and true as the natural sphere in which we continually live and move; and the facts which belong to this sphere must be tested within it. Morality and moral conditions may be so far verified from without. If we do wrong we shall finally find ourselves in the wrong; and that there is a "Power not ourselves which makes for righteousness" and which will not allow us to rest in wrong. This constantly verified experience of a kingdom of righteousness is a valuable basis of morality. But religion could not live or nourish itself within such limits. It must rest, not merely on certain facts of divine order, but on such personal relations as are ever uppermost in the mind of St Paul, and are so clearly before him in this very passage. Moreover, the higher experience which reveals to us a Power of righteousness in the world, no less reveals to us the living personal character of this Power. Shut out conscience as a true source of knowledge, and the very idea of righteousness will disappear with it--there will be nothing to fall back upon but the combinations of intelligence, and such religion as may be got therefrom; admit conscience, and its verifying force transcends a mere order or impersonal power of righteousness. It places us in front of a living Spirit who not only governs us righteously and makes us feel our wrong-doing, but who is continually educating us and raising us to His own likeness of love and blessedness. We realise not merely that there is a law of good in the world, but a Holy Will that loves good and hates evil, and against whom all our sins are offences in the sense of the Psalmist: "Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight." So much as this, we say, may be realised--this consciousness of sin on the one hand, and of a living Righteousness and Love far more powerful than our sins, and able to save us from them. These roots of religion are deeply planted in human nature. They answer to its highest experiences. The purest and noblest natures in whom all the impulses of a comprehensive humanity have been strongest, have felt and owned them. The missionary preacher, wherever he has gone--to the rude tribes of Africa, or the cultured representatives of an ancient civilisation--has appealed to them, and found a verifying response to his preaching. St Paul, whether he spoke to Jew, or Greek, or Roman, found the same voices of religious experience echoing to his call--the same burden of sin lying on human hearts--the same cry from their depths, "What must I do to be saved?" It is not necessary to maintain that these elements of the Christian religion are verifiable in every experience. It is enough to say that there is that in the Gospel which addresses all hearts in which spiritual thoughtfulness and life have not entirely died out. It lays hold of the common heart. It melts with a strange power the highest minds. Look over a vast audience; travel to distant lands; communicate with your fellow-creatures anywhere,--and you feel that you can reach them, and for the most part touch them, by the story of the Gospel--by the fact of a Father in heaven, and a Saviour sent from heaven, "that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have eternal life."[9] Beneath all differences of condition, of intellect, of culture, there is a common soul which the Gospel reaches, and which nothing else in the same manner reaches. Now, in contrast to all this, the contents of any special theology commend themselves to a comparatively few minds. And such hold as they have over these minds is for the most part traditionary and authoritative, not rational or intelligent. There can be no vital experience of theological definitions, and no verification of them, except in the few minds who have really examined them, and brought them into the light of their own intelligence. This must always be the work of a few--of what are called schools of thought, here and there. It is only the judgment of the learned or thoughtful theologian that is really of any value on a theological question. Others may assent or dissent. He alone knows the conditions of the question and its possible solution. Of all the absurdities that have come from the confusion of religion and theology, none is more absurd or more general than the idea that one opinion on a theological question--any more than on a question of natural science--is as good as another. The opinion of the ignorant, of the unthoughtful, of the undisciplined in Christian learning, is simply of no value whatever where the question involves--as it may be said every theological question involves--knowledge, thought, and scholarship. The mere necessity of such qualities for working the theological sphere, and turning it to any account, places it quite apart from the religious sphere. The one belongs to the common life of humanity, the other to the school of the prophets. The one is for you and for me, and for all human beings; the other is for the expert--the theologian--who has weighed difficulties and who understands them, if he has not solved them. III. But again, religion differs from theology in the comparative uniformity of its results. The ideal of religion is almost everywhere the same. "To do justly, to love mercy, to walk humbly with God."[10] "Pure religion" (or pure religious service) "and undefiled, before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world."[11] Where is it not always the true, even if not the prevalent type of religion, to be good and pure, and to approve the things that are excellent? "Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things" and do them, says the apostle,[12] "and the God of peace shall be with you." Christians differ like others in intellect, disposition, and temperament. They differ also so far, but never in the same degree, in spiritual condition and character. To be a Christian is in all cases to be saved from guilt, to be sustained by faith, to be cleansed by divine inspiration, to depart from iniquity. There may be, and must be, very varying degrees of faith, hope, and charity; but no Christian can be hard in heart, or impure in mind, or selfish in character. With much to make us humble in the history of the Christian Church, and many faults to deplore in the most conspicuous Christian men, the same types of divine excellences yet meet us everywhere as we look along the line of the Christian centuries--the heroism of a St Paul, an Ignatius, an Origen, an Athanasius, a Bernard, a Luther, a Calvin, a Chalmers, a Livingstone; the tender and devout affectionateness of a Mary, a Perpetua, a Monica; the enduring patience and self-denial of an Elizabeth of Hungary, a Mrs Hutcheson, a Mrs Fry; the beautiful holiness of a St John, a St Francis, a Fenelon, a Herbert, a Leighton. Under the most various influences, and the most diverse types of doctrine, the same fruits of the Spirit constantly appear--"Love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance."[13] All this sameness in diversity disappears when we turn to theology. The differences in this case are radical. They are not diversities of gifts with the same spirit, but fundamental antagonisms of thought. As some men are said to be born Platonists, and some Aristotelians, so some are born Augustinians, and some Pelagians or Arminians. These names have been strangely identified with true or false views of Christianity. What they really denote is diverse modes of Christian thinking, diverse tendencies of the Christian intellect, which repeat themselves by a law of nature. It is no more possible to make men think alike in theology than in anything else where the facts are complicated and the conclusions necessarily fallible. The history of theology is a history of "variations;" not indeed, as some have maintained, without an inner principle of movement, but with a constant repetition of oppositions underlying its necessary development. The same, contrasts continually appear throughout its course, and seem never to wear themselves out. From the beginning there has always been the broader and the narrower type of thought--a St Paul and St John, as well as a St Peter and St James; the doctrine which leans to the works, and the doctrine which leans to grace; the milder and the severer interpretations of human nature and of the divine dealings with it--a Clement of Alexandria, an Origen and a Chrysostom, as well as a Tertullian, an Augustine, and a Cyril of Alexandria, an Erasmus no less than a Luther, a Castalio as well as a Calvin, a Frederick Robertson as well as a John Newman. Look at these men and many others equally significant on the spiritual side as they look to God, or as they work for men, how much do they resemble one another! The same divine life stirs in them all. Who will undertake to settle which is the truer Christian? But look at them on the intellectual side and they are hopelessly disunited. They lead rival forces in the march of Christian thought--forces which may yet find a point of conciliation, and which may not be so widely opposed as they seem, but whose present attitude is one of obvious hostility. Men may meet in common worship and in common work, and find themselves at one. The same faith may breathe in their prayers, and the same love fire their hearts. But men who think can never be at one in their thoughts on the great subjects of the Christian revelation. They may own the same Lord, and recognise and reverence the same types of Christian character, but they will differ so soon as they begin to define their notions of the Divine, and draw conclusions from the researches either of ancient or of modern theology. Of all the false dreams that have ever haunted humanity, none is more false than the dream of catholic unity in this sense. It vanishes in the very effort to grasp it, and the old fissures appear within the most carefully compacted structures of dogma. Religion, therefore, is not to be confounded with theology, with schemes of Christian thought--nor, for that part of the matter, with schemes of Christian order. It is not to be found in any set of opinions or in any special ritual of worship. The difficulties of modern theology, the theories of modern science (when they are really scientific and do not go beyond ascertained facts and their laws), have little or nothing to do with religion. Let the age of the earth be what it may (we shall be very grateful to the British Association, or any other association, when it has settled for us how old the earth is, and how long man has been upon the face of it); let man spring in his physical system from some lower phase of life; let the Bible be resolved into its constituent sources by the power of modern analysis, and our views of it greatly change, as indeed they are rapidly changing,--all this does not change or destroy in one iota the spiritual life that throbs at the heart of humanity, and that witnesses to a Spiritual Life above. No science, truly so-called, can ever touch this or destroy it, for the simple reason that its work is outside the spiritual or religious sphere altogether. Scientific presumption may suggest the delusiveness of this sphere, just as in former times religious presumption sought to restrain the inquiries of science. It may, when it becomes ribald with a fanaticism far worse than any fanaticism of religion, assail and ridicule the hopes which, amidst much weakness, have made men noble for more than eighteen Christian centuries. But science has no voice beyond its own province. The weakest and the simplest soul, strong in the consciousness of the divine within and above it, may withstand its most powerful assaults. The shadows of doubt may cover us, and we may see no light. The difficulties of modern speculation may overwhelm us, and we may find no issue from them. If we wait till we have solved these difficulties and cleared away the darkness, we may wait for ever. If your religion is made to depend upon such matters, then I do not know what to say to you in a time like this. I cannot counsel you to shut your minds against any knowledge. I have no ready answers to your questions, no short and easy method with modern scepticism. Inquiry must have its course in theology as in everything else. It is fatal to intelligence to talk of an infallible Church, and of all free thought in reference to religion as deadly rationalism to be shunned. Not to be rational in religion as in everything else is simply to be foolish, and to throw yourself into the arms of the first authority that is able to hold you. In this as in other respects you must "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling," remembering that it is "God which worketh in you." You must examine your own hearts; you must try yourselves whether there be in you the roots of the divine life. If you do not find sin in your hearts and Christ also there as the Saviour from sin, then you will find Him nowhere. But if you find Him there, Christ within you as He was within St. Paul,--your righteousness, your life, your strength in weakness, your light in darkness, the "hope of glory" within you, as He was all this to the thoughtful and much-tried apostle,--then you will accept difficulties and doubts, and even the despairing darkness of some intellectual moments, when the very foundations seem to give way--as you accept other trials; and looking humbly for higher light, you will patiently wait for it, until the day dawn and the shadows flee away. FOOTNOTES: [1] Luke, iv. 18. [2] Matthew, xi. 28. [3] Matthew, vii. 11. [4] Mr Gladstone, 'Contemporary Review,' July, p. 194. [5] James, ii. 24. [6] Acts, xviii. 24, 25. [7] Acts, xix. 2. [8] Luke, viii. 15. [9] John, iii. 15. [10] Micah, vi. 8. [11] James, i. 27. [12] Philippians, iv. 8, 9. [13] Galatians, v. 22, 23. PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS. 
44441	----	Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). * * * * * [Illustration: coverpage] [Illustration: titlepage] _The World's Great Sermons_ VOLUME VII HALE TO FARRAR THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS COMPILED BY GRENVILLE KLEISER Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in Public," Etc. With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other Theologians INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D. Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University IN TEN VOLUMES VOLUME VII--HALE TO FARRAR FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY NEW YORK and LONDON COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY _Printed in the United States of America_ CONTENTS VOLUME VII. HALE (Born in 1822). _Page_ The Colonization of the Desert 1 MAGEE (1821-1891). The Miraculous Stilling of the Storm 19 SEISS (1823-1904). The Wonderful Testimonies 39 MACLAREN (Born in 1826). The Pattern of Service 63 CROSBY (1826-1891). The Prepared Worm 87 DALE (1829-1895). The Argument from Experience 103 LIDDON (1829-1890). Influences of the Holy Spirit 121 W. M. TAYLOR (1829-1895). Christ before Pilate--Pilate before Christ 143 JOHN HALL (1829-1899). Liberty Only in Truth 163 BACON (Born in 1830). God Indwelling 179 JOSEPH PARKER (1830-1902). A Word to the Weary 197 MCKENZIE (Born in 1830). The Royal Bounty 209 FARRAR (1831-1903). Work in the Groaning Creation 227 HALE THE COLONIZATION OF THE DESERT BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Edward Everett Hale, Congregationalist divine and author, was born in Boston in 1822. He was graduated at Harvard in 1839 and became a Unitarian preacher in 1846 at Worcester. In 1850 he removed to Boston, where his most important life's work was accomplished as a preacher and writer. A collected edition of his writings, in ten volumes, was published in 1901. His varied literary enterprises and undertakings have been too many to be enumerated here. His most famous work is "The Man Without a Country." He is at present chaplain to the United States Senate. HALE BORN IN 1822 THE COLONIZATION OF THE DESERT _God saw everything that he had made. And behold, it was very good._--Gen. i., 31. This simplest expression of the earliest religion comes back to us with new force in the midst of all the wonderful revelations of our modern life. In ten weeks' time I have crossed from one ocean to the other; I have crossed backward and forward over the Allegheny and the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada, with the valleys between them, and the slopes which rise from the ocean on either side. This means a journey through twelve of the old thirteen States and fifteen of the new States and Territories. It means intercourse with people of the North and the South, the Gulf and the West, the Pacific coast and the mountains. It means intercourse with the white race, the black race, the red race, and the Chinaman. The variety of climate is such that I have welcomed the shade of palm-trees, and that I have walked over snow where it had drifted twenty feet beneath me. I have picked oranges from the tree, and camellias from the twig in the open air, and within three hours of good-by to the camellia I was in a driving snow-storm, where the engine drivers were nervous because they had no snow plow. In all this variety I have a thousand times recalled the simplest expression of the oldest words of the Bible: "God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good." The solid recognition of this truth--not, indeed, in any small sense; but in that sense which is general and comprehensive--is at the bottom of all true religious philosophy. It is not true in any smaller sense. For I cannot say that it is good to be bitten by a mosquito or worried by a fly, if I can escape fly or mosquito. No, that is not true. And I do not suppose that the simple author of this text meant any such extravagance. But this is true, that the world is so made and ordered that man, who is himself a creator--man, who shares the wishes, instincts, and plans of the Power who directs the world--man can take the world in his hands and compel it to serve his nobler purposes. God saw the world, and he said: "Yes, this is what I want for My home and the home of children who love Me. It is a world very good to them, and they shall subdue it to My purposes." To recognize this, to feel the fitness of the world for man and man's fitness for the world, this is the basis of consistent optimism. Nobody says that the top of the Rocky Mountains is a good place for whales, or that the Ojai Valley is a good place for polar bears; but a consistent optimism says that the world is a good place for man; and it says that man is so closely allied to the God who is the life of the world that he can take the world for his own, and make it his home and his heaven. This consistent optimism is the basis of all sound theology. It is to be observed, however, that man gains no such control of the world, and the world does not prove fit for man, unless he has found out that he is akin to God and can enter into His work. There is no such victory to the savage, who is afraid of God. So long as he thinks the powers of nature are his enemies, he makes them his enemies. I do not believe the old cave-dwellers, fighting hyenas with clubs, and often finding that they were second-best in the encounter, thought this world the best of worlds. I do not believe that the Digger Indian, who spent his tedious day in rummaging for ants and beetles to eat, and was very happy if he caught a lizard--I do not believe that he said that the world was very good. True, I think both of them had visions and hopes of a better time; but while they were in the abject misery of cold and starvation, that better time had not dawned. It did not dawn because they had not taken on them the dignity and duty of children of God. They were not about their Father's business. They did not see Him nor hear Him, nor in any wise know Him. They did not conceive that they were on His side nor He on theirs. And it is not till man comes up to some comprehension that God has sent him here on an infinite business; that he and the Author of this world are at one in this affair of managing it; it is not till man knows God as his friend and not his enemy, that man with any courage and success takes the business of managing into his own hands. Then is it that he finds what pleasure, nay what dignity, there is in taming the lightning and riding on the storm. And then he knows enough of the divine Being, His purpose and His power, to see that the world is good, and that God should call it good in its creation. All this forces itself on one's thought as he sees how it is that nature has been pursued and caught and tamed in these mountains and these valleys. For nature is the nymph so wittily described by Virgil. She "Flies to her woods; but hopes her flight is seen." Man, so long as he is savage, hates her and fears her. If he worships, it is the abject worship of those who bring sacrifices to buy her favor. And it may be said in passing that the last visible form of pure barbarism or savagery is any theology which supposes that God's favor must be bought by any price paid by man in exchange. When man finds, by any revelation, the conditions of absolute religion, which are simply faith, hope and love, all this is changed. When he looks up to God gladly, looks forward to the future cheerfully, and looks round on the world kindly, he finds, possibly to his surprize, that he is working on the lines God works on, and means to have him work on. Now he is on "his Father's business." While he rows the boat, the tide sweeps the right way. While he stretches the wire, the lightning is waiting and eager to do his errand. And so soon as man the divine appears upon the scene--man the child of God, who knows he shares God's nature--why, easily and quickly the valleys are exalted and the mountains and the hills made low; the deserts blossom as the rose, and even the passing traveler sees that this world was made for man and man for this world. And he understands as he has never understood before what this is, that he himself is of the nature of the God at whose present will this world comes into order. He understands better what the old text means, which says that God is satisfied with the world which He has made. I crossed the continent westward and eastward on this journey, fresh from recent reading of the history of the first Spanish occupation. What did the Spaniards find there? They found in what we call New Mexico the Zuni cities which, in a sad decline, exist to-day. From those cities Casteneda led a party of Spanish horsemen eastward in search of a certain mythical king who was supposed to have much gold and many jewels. Those adventurous men rode for a whole summer across the prairies and plains which are now Colorado, and Kansas, and Missouri, and struck the Missouri, or perhaps the Mississippi. You know that much of the country is now fertile beyond praise. Mile after mile you can see corn, wheat; wheat, corn; corn, wheat; wheat, corn; and the production to the acre increases year by year. The States through which Casteneda's line of travel passed now number four or five millions of people; and they feed, from their agriculture, say twenty millions more. Now when Casteneda and his people passed and repassed over this region they did not meet a single man, woman or child. They were opprest by the horrible loneliness of their journey. They felt, as Magellan's people felt when they were crossing the Pacific Ocean, with that horrible east wind, with a calm sea before and never a sight of an island or a man. When Casteneda came at last to the Mississippi--or Missouri--they had no heart to build a raft to cross it and incur more such solitude; and they went back the way they came. And the fame of its loneliness was such that no man attempted the adventure for more than a hundred years. When, in 1682--say a hundred and thirty years after--the great La Salle discovered the Mississippi River, and sailed south upon it, leaving Chicago, crossing Illinois, and so striking the Father of Waters, his experience of this utter loneliness was the same. He touched every night on one shore or the other. He is, therefore, the discoverer of seven of the Western States--States which now feed fifty million people and number seven or eight million of their own. Only twice, I think, did he meet any great body of men. Not five times did he find traces of the hand of man or the foot of man. Through the same solitude he returned; and his report was of a virgin world of elk, and deer, and buffalo; of shrubs and trees, of fish and fowl; but a world without men. The inference was drawn, hastily, but not unnaturally, that these regions could not sustain men. On the Atlas given me as a boy, the "Great American Desert" covered the greater part of the region west of the Mississippi. It is now the home of the millions I have been enumerating. And in the last map I have seen, the Great American Desert appears as hardly a "speck on the surface of the earth." The change which I have described has been wrought in the lifetime of people of my age. It is wrought simply and wholly by the passion for emigration which belongs to our own race. In Mr. Hoar's happy phrase, people of our blood "thirst for the horizon." In the year 1833 De Tocqueville, observing the steadiness of this wave, calculated its average flow as seventeen miles westward every year. That was the rate at which it had moved since the Federal Constitution made it possible. Speaking roughly, there were then two thousand miles of desert between the Missouri River and the Pacific. At De Tocqueville's rate, the wave would have been one hundred and twenty years in reaching that ocean. But it happened that in 1849 the Western coast was settled in the gold discovery. An Eastern wave began which has now met the Western. The two together have founded the great cities--for we must call them so--of the Rocky Mountains. Now, in the face of that contrast between the last century and this century, one asks why that half of our continent is any more fit for men than it was then. The answer is, that it was not fit for the kind of men on it then; and that the kind of men that have tamed it are the kind of men who were fit for it, and whom it was fit for. The study of history and of physical geography becomes a study of what we mean by man and man's capacities. California, for instance, was the same country in 1650 that it was in 1850. The south wind blew from the sea, and that, in the north temperate zone, is the great physical requisite. There was as much gold, and quicksilver, and copper, and tin in the mountains as there is now. There was the same soil and the same water on the hillsides. But the men, and women, and children were afraid of their gods; they were afraid of nature; they had neither faith, nor hope, nor love. They had none of the elements of eternal power except as an acorn has the possibilities of an oak. To these people there came, sooner or later--with the best motives, but still without the essentials of life--fifty families of Franciscan monks. They came, observe, without wives or children. They defied thus the first law of human life, or the life God intends His children to live in. The primitive trinity, from which all false trinities have grown, is the father, the mother and the child. The Franciscan communities were false to all Divine law, if it were only in their failure here. They gathered around them, by the higher civilization which they brought, great communities of starving Indians. They taught them to feed themselves as they had never been fed before. So far they improved the race, and lifted its civilization above that ant-eating and lizard-chasing of the Digger Indian. But then the Catholic Church, by the necessary subordination of man to the organized Church, takes man's life out of him. "The day That makes a man a slave, takes all his life away." The words are as true to-day as they were in Homer's time. Nor is there any sadder instance of it than is the powerlessness of the tribes of amiable slaves who were collected under the protection of the Franciscan missions in California, or Jesuit missions in Paraguay. The native races between the Pacific and the Atlantic were dying faster than their children were born. They were dying of the diseases named laziness, ignorance, and war. They were not subduing the continent. They were not fit for it, nor it for them. What is the distinction of the race to which we belong, that it succeeds where these have failed? The history of the country accentuates that distinction. It would be absurd to pretend that the average frontiersman was a man of what are called saintly habits. Often he was not conscious that he had any divine errand. But the frontiersman, to whose courage and perseverance is due that forward wave we study, was a man. He did not take his opinion or instruction from any priest. There was no one between him and the good God. Often he sought Him. So far so good. And often he did not seek Him. That one admits. But he never sought any one else's advice or direction. He was no slave, as the Indian of California was. He was not commissioned by a superior, as the Franciscan priest of the mission was. He was a man. He was independent and he was brave. If he did the right thing, therefore, he succeeded; if he did the wrong thing, why, he failed. And no one else tried just the same experiment. In this first trait of absolute independence he showed the infinite characteristic of a child of God. Second, and perhaps more important, he took with him his wife and his children. Here is the great distinction of American emigration, which contrasts against the plans of Spaniards or Frenchmen, and of the earlier Englishmen. Historically it begins with the Pilgrims, of whom there were as many Pilgrim mothers as there were Pilgrim fathers. It is of them that Emerson says that "they builded better than they knew." The frontiersman is independent. He lives with and for his family. And, once more, he is an enthusiast in determining that to-morrow shall be better than to-day. The Indian had no such notion. The Franciscan had not. But this profane, ignorant pioneer had. He believed implicitly in the country behind him and in the future before him. "I tell you, sir, that in ten years you will see in this valley such a city as the world never saw." Profane he may be, ignorant he may be, cruel he may be; but he believes in the idea; he is quickened and goaded forward by an infinite and majestic hope. Given such conditions, the historical steps are easy. All this is impossible till you have a nation, to give peace and compel peace, so that the separate settler shall know that the whole majesty of the world is behind him. There shall be no abiding quarrel between man and man as to the line of a claim or the title of a mine. The nation shall decide, and its whole majesty shall enforce the decision. Or, if there is any massacre by an Apache or a Blackfoot, the country behind, tho a thousand miles behind, shall stretch forth her arm to avenge that lonely family. This means peace instead of war. All this had to wait, therefore, until the formation of the nation called the United States--the greatest peace society the sun ever shone upon, and the model for societies yet larger. With the birth of that nation, the real Western wave begins. I do not claim for every pioneer that he thought he went as an apostle of God. But in the emigrant wave from the very beginning, the best blood, the best faith, the best training of the parent stocks have gone. Science has sent her best. The determination for thorough education has planted better school houses in the wilderness than the emigrant left at home. And on Sunday, in a church, one is proud to say that the organized Church of Christ, in the liberty of a thousand communions, has covered with her egis the settler most in advance. He could not keep in advance of the missionary and of his Bible; and, to his credit be it said, he did not want to. So much for the personnel. Now, speaking roughly, what has been the motive for the great Western wave, which is making this garden out of that desert? First, there is the passion for adventure, the thirst for the horizon, which drives old Leatherstocking and the men like him away from the haunts of men. This in itself produces nothing. Next and chiefly, the desire to make homes--the noblest desire given to man, and the desire in which he follows the will of God most distinctly and completely. Miners want to strike metals; farmers want to find good soils; fruit men try for climate and irrigation; all with the direct wish to make homes more happy than they have been before. Again, young men go that they may get forward faster than in old communities--and who can wonder? Men of sense give up the unequal contest with nature in a northern and eastern climate to find a country where nature is on their side. People in delicate health go where they find softer air, more spring and less winter. But no man goes to get rich alone. No man wants to eat gold or to drink it. The wish and hope is to make homes where father, mother and children can live the life which God ordained. These are no Franciscan friars, these are no Apache bandits, to whom has been given the subjugation of a continent. Side by side with the pioneer is the surveyor, marking the lines of future homesteads. Hard behind him are father, mother, boys and girls, to whom the nation gives this homestead thus designated. If the man is sick the woman nurses him. The children grow up to know the world they live in. The boundary of the nation is not a mere chain of garrisons nor the scattered posts of missions; it is a line of homes, founded with all that the word home involves. All these lessons of three centuries point one way. They show that the world is not very good for wandering Apaches or Digger Indians, freezing and starving under hard winters when harvests have failed. To their point of view it was a world hard and cruel. To Franciscan friars, ruling a little empire which yielded none but physical harvests, where the garden, and orchard, and vineyard were only so many specks in the midst of an unbounded desert, the world can not have seemed a better world--a world made for wild horses, and further East for wild buffaloes, but not for men--"the great American Desert." It is not till man asserts the courage and freedom of a son of God, it is not till man appears with wife and child and proposes to establish his heaven here; it is not till then that he masters nature, and she gladly obeys him. Nay, then he has no success unless he appears as the vicegerent of God Himself, and establishes over this vast domain the empire of law, and speaks as God might speak, with "Thou shalt do this," and "Thou shalt not do that" in this empire. The Old-World writers are fond of telling us that we owe the prosperity of this nation to its physical resources. It is not so. The physical resources have existed for centuries. It is only in the moral force of sons and daughters of God; it is such working power as takes the names of law, courage, independence, and family affection; it is only in these that our victory is won. The drunken swaggerer of the advance only checks the triumph. The miser, who would carry off his silver to use elsewhere, only hinders the advance. The victory comes from the hand of God to the children of God, who establish His empire in the magic spell of three great names. As always these names are: Faith, which gives courage; Hope, which determines to succeed; and Love, which builds up homes. It is impossible to see the steps of such a victory without owning the infinite Power behind it all. You cannot use magnetic ore and coal for its smelting and the silicates for its fusion, all flung in together side by side, without asking if the Power who threw these priceless gifts together where each was needed for each did not know what He was doing. But the buffalo passes over it, and the gopher mines under it, and it might be so much gravel of the sea. Savages pass over it, with no future, no heaven, and one would say no God. It is worthless desert still, but one day a man comes who deserves his name. He is a child of God. He is determined that to-morrow shall be better than to-day. He knows he is lord of nature, and he bids her serve him. The coal burns, the iron melts, the silicate fuses. It is impossible to see that miracle and not feel that for this man the world was created, and for this world this man was born. He is in his place. He did not have to seek it; it was made for him. With him it is a garden. Without him it is a desert. He can hew down these mountains. He can fill up these valleys. And where he has filled, and where he has hewed, lo, the present heaven of happy homes! It is thus that prophecy accomplishes itself, and "The car of the Lord rolls gloriously on." MAGEE THE MIRACULOUS STILLING OF THE STORM BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE William Connor Magee, Archbishop of York, was born at Cork in 1821. Educated at Trinity College, Dublin, he was ordained in 1844. His first important charge was the Octagon Chapel at Bath in 1850. In 1864 he was made dean of Cork, and in 1868, Bishop of Peterborough. In 1891 he was appointed to succeed Dr. William Thomson, as Archbishop of York. Dr. Magee was pronounced by Canon Liddon the greatest preacher of his day. His speech in the House of Lords in 1869 against Irish Disestablishment was said by the highest authorities, as quoted by Lord Salisbury, to be the finest speech ever delivered, in either house of Parliament, by any man then living. His oratory was characterized by clearness and terseness of expression, while his full-toned voice was capable of sounding every gradation of feeling. He died in 1891, three months after his enthronization in York Minster. MAGEE 1821-1891 THE MIRACULOUS STILLING OF THE STORM _Lord, save us: we perish.... Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm_.--Matt. viii., 25, 26. The story of this miracle reveals to us Christ entering into peril together with His Church. It records for us her faith and her prayer. It reveals to us His presence and His power. That faith has been her faith, that prayer has been her prayer, from that hour until now. In all the long perilous voyage of the Church from that hour, never has she unlearned yet her first prayer; never has she become entirely unconscious of her Lord. Sometimes with a great and a fearless faith that defied the most terrible tempests, sometimes with a little and a timid faith, that shrank from the first ripple upon the deep, but ever with her real faith have Christ's Church and Christ's disciples turned in the hour of their tribulation to seek their Lord. And never has that prayer been said in vain. Never from the Church at large, or from the solitary disciple in his terror, has that prayer gone up without an answer. Never has the eye of faith sought, and sought in vain, the Savior. Ever has the praying Church or the praying disciple found the still present Christ; and we believe that it is so now. We believe that Christ our Lord is here in the midst of us now, and that our eye of faith may see Him, and our prayer of faith may reach Him. And if this be so now--if Christ's presence be a real fact amongst us now, and our prayer have really a might to reveal that presence--then, above all things, it concerns us, that we understand the nature of that prayer, and the manner of that presence, that we understand what it is we mean, and what will come of it when we say: "Lord, save us, or we perish." We ask you, then, to-night, brethren, to consider these two things: the meaning of the Church's prayer; the manner of her Lord's presence. Now, when we use these words: "Lord, save: we perish," we are really rehearsing two articles of our belief. We are declaring, first of all, that we believe there is a Lord--that in the visible world there is an invisible God with His overruling, and controlling, and appointing will; and, in the next place, we believe that this God is our Lord Jesus Christ. In the first of these, we Christians agree with every religion that ever has been. In the second, we differ from all other religions. When we say that above nature there is a will and a personality, we say what every religion says. Religion is nothing else than the belief in the supernatural, in something above nature, in a person, in a will; and prayer is nothing but the speech of our spirit to that will, and the submission of our will to it. Prayer is the effort of the spirit of man to rise above the visible up to the region of the invisible and the personal, there to speak out his care or his need. There can, therefore, be no prayer without this element of religion; and there can be no religion without this fact of prayer. Without it, you have philosophy, you may have sentiment; but you cannot have a real, practical, every-day religion. And, therefore, all religions have believed in a God or gods, a Lord or lords. Turk, Jew, heathen, in like case, would have said to some lord or other: "Save, or we perish." But the Christian believes something more. He believes that his Lord has come down amongst men; that He has taken to Him human flesh, and lived a human life, and died, and risen again, for his salvation. He worships not only a lord, but the incarnate Lord; and so the Church speaks her twofold faith in her great hymn from the first to Christ as God: "We praise Thee, O God; we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord"--Thee, and none other, to be the God, and Thee to be the Lord, and Ruler, and Master of all things. You see, then, that there is something different in Christian prayer from all other prayer and worship, and that the difference consists in this: that it is distinctively and avowedly the prayer to an incarnate Christ. Now, if there be this difference between this prayer and all other prayer, then there must be a corresponding difference in the feelings and in the practical results of such a religion; and I am about to ask you now to follow me while I endeavor to trace for you this difference between Christian prayer and all other prayer. It seems as if the story in the gospel of this miracle exactly sets out this difference--exactly shows us the distinctive nature of Christian prayer. The story, you observe, divides itself, naturally, into three parts. There is, first of all, the voyage before the storm; there is, then, the storm; and there is, then, the miraculous stilling of the storm. Now, you observe that in each of these three parts, we have one thing in common. We have man, in some way or other, encountering, or encountered by, the outward and visible world. The third of these--the stilling of the storm--differs from the other two in this, that it is miraculous and supernatural. Now, let us, for a moment, leave out this third part. There are some, you know, who say, that we should always leave it out, and be better without it. Let us leave out, then, this third or miraculous part of the story; and let us contrast the first and the second parts. And what have we got? We have got a most remarkable contrast between the two scenes. What is it we see in the first scene? We see a man subduing nature. It was by the knowledge of the elements and the laws of nature, that man learned thus to sail upon the deep; and in that one fact you have represented for you the whole of the material progress of humanity--all the triumphs of science, all the glory and the beauty of art, all that marvelous mastery that man obtains by his inventive and creative will over the secret powers of nature, as he unlocks them one by one, and compels her to tell him her deepest mysteries--all that man has done as he has advanced from horizon to horizon of discovery, finding still new worlds to conquer, until we stand amazed at our own progress and the infinity of it, and we say of man: "What manner of being is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?" Yes, there is the man the lord of nature. There is nothing supernatural there. All is natural, all is orderly. Man is lord and master. Nature is man's servant; and, therefore, there seems no room, there seems no need for prayer. There is nothing, seemingly, there to be had for the asking; there is everything, seemingly, there to be had for working. Man is to be seen walking in the garden of his own planting and his own fencing; and he reaches out hands to unforbidden fruits of knowledge; and he believes that at last he shall gather even of the tree of life. He is a god unto himself, and he sees no need for prayer. And now we turn to the second scene, and what have we there? We have the direct contrast with this scene. We have there, not man subduing nature, but nature subduing man. We have the storm in which the elements are man's masters and not his servants; and he that one minute before was the boasting lord of nature is its toy and its sport. The very foam upon the crest of those billows is not more helpless in the grasp of the elements than the lord and the king of them; and they toss him to and fro, as the wind drives the stubble in the autumn. This is the terrible aspect of nature. This is nature in her might, and in her majesty, and in her pitilessness, and in her capriciousness--when nature seems everything, and man, in her awful presence, dwindles and dwarfs into very nothingness--when man, in the presence of the vastness of her solitude, and the might of her storms, and the terror of her earthquakes, seems no more before her, with his little cares and his sorrows, than the wee bubbles upon the head of the cataract. This is nature as she masters man. Is it, then, any wonder that, in the early struggles of mankind with this terrible visible power of the creature, men came to worship the creature--that they ascribed to every one of these powers a divinity, that in the voice of the wind, and in the roar of the sea, and in the raging of the fire, they saw the signs of a divine presence, and they said to these elements: "Spare us," or "Save us, or else we perish"? And so all creation became peopled with gods--cruel gods, capricious gods, vengeful gods, gods whom men bribed with blood, gods whom, even while they bribed them, they could not love, and did not believe that they loved them. This is the first and most terrible form of creature worship; this was the idolatry of the heathen. But mark this, that such a worship as this could not continue forever, could not continue long, because it is the worship of ignorance; it is the belief in the supernatural, only because it confuses the unknown with the supernatural. Ever as science advances must this faith melt away. Ever must the domain of the known push itself forward into the domain of the unknown. Ever does the man of science take one by one the gods of the man of superstition and break them upon their pedestals, and tell him this: "What you worship is no god. What you worship is no lord. It is not your lord. It is a servant of yours; and I class it in this or that rank of your servants." So, one by one, like ghosts and fantoms in the dawning of the day--one by one, the fantoms of gods that haunted the night of the old world vanish before the dawn of knowledge. But then it is a terrible daylight that breaks on men--a blank, dreary world in which men have no sight of the invisible, no sense of the supernatural. It is that last and most terrible aspect of nature, when she appears, not as many gods, or many wills, but as the great soulless piece of mechanism, of which we are only part--a terrible machinery in which we are, somehow or other, involved, and in the presence of which the sense of our free-will leaves us. The pith, and the manhood, and the vigor of men, and the beauty and the freedom of their life die out of them as they stand appalled before this passionless, this terrible, this awful face of a soulless world. This is the last and the most terrible form of creature worship. And mark this, that between these two aspects of nature, if you have no assured faith, there is no logical resting-place. Without the act of faith, you must take your choice between the superstition of ignorance or the atheism of knowledge. And now we have seen these, we turn to the third portion of our story; and what is that we see there? We see, again, in this world of men, the miraculous and the supernatural. We hear a prayer, and we see a miracle. In the face of the might of nature and the terrors of her elements there arises up a Man in answer to man's cry--there is heard a Man's voice, which is yet the voice of God; and it rebukes the winds and the sea, and the elements of nature own their real Lord; and immediately there is a great calm. What is it, then, that we see? We see a miracle, and a miracle that answers to prayer; we see the living spirits of living men, in the hour of their agony and their distress, appealing from nature to the God of nature; and we have recorded the answer of God to man's prayer. The answer is, that God is Lord both of man and of nature; and we say, therefore, that the miracle, and the miracle alone, sufficiently justifies the prayer. We say that the reason why men may pray is, and can only be, that they know and believe, that there is a will which rules the visible. If you have not this belief, then believe us that all prayer, whatever men may say about it, is an unreality and a miserable mockery. To what am I to pray if I see no living God to pray to? Am I to pray to a law? Am I to pray to a system? Am I to pray to the winds, or to the waves, as men prayed of old? Am I to pray for physical blessings and deliverances? Men tell us we are not to pray, or to give thanks, concerning the rain or fruitful seasons, for that science has told us that the supernatural has no place there. Am I to pray then (for men do tell me that I may pray) only for spiritual and for moral gifts? Am I to pray only to be made wise, and good, and pure, and true, and holy? Ah! science is beginning to meet us there, too; for she is telling us, and telling us loudly, and telling us shamelessly, that here, too, there is no room, so far as she can tell, for prayer, as our mind is but a part of our body, and that our spiritual condition is a necessary result of our past history and of our present temperament--that we are what we are by virtue of birth and education, and country, and clime, and other things over which we have no control. And so the very spirit of man, all that is left of the invisible, vanishes before the approach of science. The knife of the anatomist lays bare, as he tells you, the secrets of man's being; and he finds no soul--he finds only the gray matter of the brain and the white threads of the nerves; and this is all that is left. Then, if we are not to pray, may we at least praise? Men say that if it is a folly to pray, at least it is a wisdom to praise; and they tell us this is the sentimental theory of the modern gospel. They tell you: "You may not pray,--prayer has no place in our system,--but you may praise; you may lift up your heart in hymns of joy and gratitude to the great Father of your being; you may have festival and flower-crowned processions in honor of the Supreme Being; yes, you may in fine weather, when you are sailing over summer seas, and the pleasant summer wind is filling the sails of your bark, and is wafting sweet odors from the flower-crowned shores along which youth, and hope, and joy are passing--then you may lift up your hearts in thanks to the Father that gave all these, if you do not forget it. But how is it in foul weather? How is it when the sky above us darkens, and the white crests of the waves beneath us are swelling sharp and fierce, and the jagged edges of the rocks are projecting for our shipwreck, and the wild waste of the waters is yawning below us, and we tremble and shudder at their depths, and the wild wind blows our prayer back into our bosoms--is that the time to sing sentimental hymns to our great supreme Father and Giver of all good? It is a time (thank God, thank Christ, for this) when the Christian, when the disciple of Christ, may hold fast his faith and say, "Tho he slay me, yet will I trust in him"; but it is not a time when the deist has breath to sing his hymns to the supreme Author of his being. No, we believe that there is a miracle that justifies, and alone justifies prayer. We know that there are those (and they are good and wise men, many of them) who contrive nice adjustments and philosophical explanations how prayer may be reconciled with universal law. We do not greatly care for these. They may be right; they may be wrong. In some future state and higher condition of our being we may know how far they are true, how far they are false; but, meanwhile, we need not be too nervously anxious to make room for almighty God to work His own will in His own world. We believe in the miracle of creation; we believe that there was once a voice that said, "Let there be light, and there was light"; we believe that at the sound of that voice the universe leapt into life; and we believe in the miracle of the Incarnation, when God took human flesh and dwelt amongst men; we believe in the miracle of the descent of the Spirit of God, when, with the miraculous sound of the rushing wind and the miraculous gleam of the fire, God once more came down to dwell amongst men; we believe in the miracles that are written for us in this Book, were they ten times as many as they are; we believe that the sea has stood on one side like a wall, and that the waters have gushed forth from the rock; we believe that bread has been rained from heaven; we believe that a touch has awakened the dead--we believe all this; and, because we believe it, we believe the voice when it says to us, "Pray"; and because we hear that voice still amongst us, and because we know it to be the same voice, we say, as we hear it, "Lord, save, or we perish." But still, in the last place, it may be said to us: If you do believe that there is this power of miracle amongst you still, and that it will answer to your prayer, why is it that we do not see more miracles than we do? Why is not the world filled with strange miracles every day, considering the infinite number of men's needs, and the infinite number of human prayers? My brethren, it does seem to me that if we were merely deists, and did not believe in Christ, it would be difficult for us to answer this objection. The spirit of man has, however (thanks be to God for it), in all ages been deeper and truer in its instincts than his mere logical power. Even the deist (and we thankfully acknowledge it), tho inconsistently and illogically, yet really and truly prays. For us Christians there is not any difficulty. There is that difference in our prayer of which I spoke. To whom is it that we pray? Not merely to the invisible Lord or Creator of the past, but to the incarnate Lord of the present. We believe that Christ our Lord, to whom we pray, took flesh and dwelt amongst us, and we believe that He did so that He might work the greatest of all miracles--the salvation of the souls of men; and we believe that He wrought it by dying and by living again. We believe that He established in the world this great and miraculous law, that it is possible out of death to bring life--nay, that death is the way to life. If this be so, that by His death life was purchased for us, then He teaches us that there is another life than this, and that there is another death and a deeper death than that we fear; and He tells us, it may be, that even by dying we shall be saved, that He will not always save us from death--nay, that He may save us by death. And so it comes to pass that we understand how, by losing life, we may miraculously save it; and yet, on the other hand, by trying to save life, we may naturally lose it. So we come to understand this fact, how the beginning of His kingdom was full of miracles, and how, in the history of His kingdom, miracles have since ceased. The kingdom began with miracles that He might teach us that He was able to save; the miracles ceased in order that He might work a greater miracle. The lesser miracle of ruling nature ceased in order that the greatest of all miracles might perpetually be wrought--the regeneration, the redemption, and the glorification of the nature of man. And so we understand that Christ our Lord, because He is our Lord, may save us, even while we seem to perish, and to perish in His presence. He saved us of old by His agony and bloody sweat, by His cross and passion; and He will save us now, and He does save every child of His. Through agony and sweating, through cross and passion--through the agony of our long nights of spiritual darkness, through the sweat of long days of sore trouble and labor, beneath the weight of sharp and heavy crosses and sorrow, and through the bitterness of spiritual or bodily passion, does Christ our Lord still save those who cry to Him, even while He seems to sleep and not to hear them, as, in the bitterness of their souls, thinking themselves Christ-forsaken, they cry, "Our Christ, our Christ, why hast Thou forsaken us? Dost Thou sleep, Lord? Save us, or we perish." And so you understand the peculiarity, the blest and the glorious peculiarity, of our Christian prayer. You understand the meaning of those deep words of Scripture--patience and the faith of the saints. You understand how the Christian man may pray and wait, and wait and pray still. If prayer were always followed by a miraculous answer, then prayer would be easy enough; or, on the other hand, if there were no thought of an answer, then it might be possible, tho not easy, to submit ourselves to the inevitable. But to pray and not to receive an answer, and yet to believe that the very not receiving is an answer; to cry, "Save, or we perish," and to seem about to perish; to believe that in what seems perishing is really salvation; to look for the living and watchful Christ, and to see what seems only the living and regardless Christ, and yet to believe that the time will come when, at His word, there shall be a great calm--this is the patience, this is the faith of those who worship an incarnate Lord. And so we trace the history of Christ's Church, and so we strive to trace the history of our own lives. Comparatively easy it is to trace the Church's history along her voyage. The Church gives time for comparing events and testing faith; and so, believing still in the presence of her living Lord, the litanies of His Church ring out, as they have ever rung, clearly and loudly, and high above the roar of the tempest and the rushing of the waters, still the prayer is heard, "Good Lord, deliver us"; and still, again and again, as the storm sweeps by, and the Church passes out into calmer waters, still comes the voice of thanksgiving: "He hath delivered us." Even in our shorter voyage, are there none of us who can remember times when we have knelt in agony and wrestled in prayer with the Savior, who seemed to have forgotten us, when the mighty storm of temptation and the billows of calamity seemed about to destroy us, and when we have cried (oh, how men do cry in those storms of the soul, in those tempests and terrors of the heart), "Lord, save us, or we perish!" to Him to save us, and He has seemed to sleep and to refuse to save? But at the last we can remember how He did reveal Himself, not stilling the raging storm when we would have had Him still the terrible tempest, not sparing, it may be, the precious bark that we had rigged, and manned, and launched ourselves with trembling hopes and loving prayers, and watched with eyes tearless with agony, as we saw it about to sink before us; and we have been led to see and believe that the living and the loving Lord was answering even then our prayer, for the bark has, at length, entered that haven where we would be, and where the vexed waters of our voyage never awake a ripple on the calm depths of its eternal peace. This has been the experience of more than one of this great multitude that I see. And there is another experience that each one of you may have: it is when, in the troubles of your own spirit, when in the agonies of your own grief-stricken heart, when in the depths of your own repentance, when in the storms of your own fear and your own doubt, you cry to Christ the Savior--when you bring your sins as some men bring their sorrows, as anxious to have them removed as the others--when you cry to Christ your Savior: "Lord, save me! Save me, a sinner! Save me, an unprayerful man hitherto! Save me, an unbelieving man hitherto! Save me, not merely from the hell hereafter, but the present storm and depth of my own sins that threaten to destroy me! Save me, or I perish!" For, brethren, be sure of this, sooner or later this will be the experience of every such vexed and terrified soul--that, after he shall have endured, so long as his Lord sees good, the terrifying storm and the threatening deep that drive him in closer and closer search and seeking after his Lord, then, at last, there will appear the form of the Son of man, the form of Him who hung upon the cross, that He might for ever in the world's history work this great and, to Him, dearest of all miracles; and, at last, He will rebuke the winds and the waves in that troubled soul, and there will be a great calm--a calm that may not last for ever, a calm that will not last for ever, for we have not yet reached the haven of perfect rest, but a calm that is a foretaste of the eternal rest. And so, praying with all our hearts to Christ our Lord, setting our will in submission to His will, pouring out our spirit in prayer to His Spirit, laying bare our hearts before His pure and loving eyes, through calm and through storm, praying still that we suffer not death in either, that we neither rot in the calm nor founder in the storm, praying still for His presence, praying still for grace to realize that presence, crying still for that deeper and yet deeper faith which is the result of more and more constant experience, crying still, "Lord, save, or we perish," wait in patience and in faith until He shall send His last messenger in this world, His angel of death, and bid him for us and in His name rebuke for the last time the winds that have vexed us, and the waves that have terrified us, and then with Him for ever there shall be a great calm. SEISS THE WONDERFUL TESTIMONIES BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Joseph A. Seiss, Lutheran divine, was born in 1823, at Graceham, Md. He received his theological education as a private pupil of several clergymen and was first settled over churches at Martinsburg and Shepherdstown, Va. In 1843 he was transferred to Cumberland, then to Baltimore, Md., and finally became pastor of St. John's Church, Philadelphia, and for twelve years was editor of "The Lutheran." He died in 1904. SEISS 1823-1904 THE WONDERFUL TESTIMONIES[1] [1] Reprinted by permission of the Literary Trustees of the Dr. Seiss' Estate. _Thy testimonies are wonderful._--Psalms, cxix., 129. The Psalmist here addresses himself to God. The testimonies of which he speaks are God's testimonies. As collected and arranged in one book, they are known to us as the Bible. For the contents of these holy oracles the royal singer expresses his admiration. He pronounces them "wonderful." It was not an unworthy theme with which he was occupied at the time, neither was it an extravagant opinion which he uttered. It is impossible that there should be for man a more important subject than the communications made to him from his God. And if ever there was a marvelous thing submitted to human inspection, it is this book, the holy Bible. It lies before us like an ocean, boundless and unfathomable,--like a Himalayan mountain, whose summit no foot of man has trod, and whose foundation is in the undiscovered heart of the world. To make a full survey of it is not possible in the present condition of the human faculties. Even the inspired Paul, when he came to look into it, found himself gazing into profundities at which he could do no more than exclaim, "Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and the knowledge of God!" And yet there are many beautiful shells and pebbles lying on the shore of this sea, and as many precious flowers blooming on this mountain side, which any one may gather, and which, whosoever attentively contemplates, must feel himself impelled to join the admiring exclamation, "The testimonies of the Lord are wonderful." Let us look briefly at a few particulars by which to verify this declaration, praying that God may open our eyes to behold wondrous things out of His law. I. The testimonies of the Lord are wonderful in age and preservation. The Bible is the oldest of books. Some portions of it are much more recent than others, but a large part of it has come down from the remotest antiquity and antedates all other writings in the world. It contains a journal of events which transpired centuries before the building of the Pyramids. The book of Job existed before Cadmus carried letters into Greece. The five books of Moses were read in holy assemblies two hundred years before Sanchoniathon wrote. David and Solomon had uttered their sacred songs and prophecies half a century before Homer enraptured the Greeks with his verses or Lycurgus had given laws to Lacedæmon. Dozens of the books of Scripture were complete a hundred years before the first public library was founded at Athens; and the last of the prophets had ended his message before Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle had propounded their philosophies. When the elements of society were but forming in the womb of the far-distant past, the Bible was there. When the foundations of earth's present greatness were laid, it was there. And when we go back to the very beginnings of history, even there does its hand lead us and its right hand uphold us. Nor is it as a mere lifeless fossil that this book has come down to us from such remote antiquity. Tho hoary with age, its youthful vigor remains, and its natural force is not abated. It has only grown fresher with age, and strengthened with every new trial. It has been at the births and deaths of a hundred mighty nations, and seen empires rise, flourish, and fall, and coexisted with the longest lines of earthly kings, and beheld some of the sublimest monuments of human effort come forth and disappear, and passed a hundred generations in reaching us; but, withal, it still lives, in all nations, in all languages, the most precious legacy of departed ages, and the only thing that remains to us from some of them. Tho it has encountered many a fierce conflict with the hate of men and the spite of devils,--tho the object of many a concerted scheme to blot it from the earth,--tho often held up to ridicule, with "gigantic apes like Voltaire chattering at it, men of genius turned by some Circean spell into swine, like Mirabeau and Paine, casting filth at it, demoniacs whom it had half rescued and half inspired, like Rousseau, making mouths in its face," and all the varied passions of unsanctified men continually arrayed against it,--it still holds its place as the most uncorrupt and authentic of histories, the most august and controlling of records, the most universal, venerable, and potent of books, imagining in its very history the stupendous majesty of the God whom it reveals. II. The testimonies of the Lord are wonderful in their authorship. They are not of man, but of God. We can not now refer to the varied and multitudinous considerations which enter into the proofs of this. It is capable, however, of being established by the very highest moral evidences. The wisest and best men of every age have concurred in receiving the Scriptures as from God. And it is not possible to give a rational account of their origin, and the source of their contents, without ascribing them to the divine authorship which they claim. It may seem strange that the infinite God should condescend to put His great thoughts into the poor language of mortals, to communicate with creatures so dull and stupid as the sons of men; but this He has done. Portions of the Scriptures are made up of the very words of God, articulated by Himself in the hearing of men commissioned to declare them. One chapter, which embodies the moral essence of all the rest, was engraven by His own finger upon tables of rock, and delivered to Moses all ready formed and set in the alphabetic signs employed by men. Other parts consist of communications of celestial messengers sent directly from heaven's throne to declare God's will and purposes to the dwellers upon earth. A still larger portion was taken down as it fell from the lips of One in whom God had incarnated Himself, and whose every word and act in this world was a revelation from the unknown Deity. Even those parts which were written by men were produced by mysterious motion and illumination of the Holy Ghost,--by inspiration of God. Indeed, the whole book is a literary aerolite, all the characteristics of which are unearthly, and whose own superior attributes are so many demonstrations of its superhuman source. Its very address is so far above that of man, that no mortal, unprompted, could ever have risen to it. Its subjects are all treated after an unearthly manner. Every leaf of it bears the sunlight of some higher sphere. Every page has on it the imprimatur of God. And all its words are instinct with divine fires, flashing the admonition upon every reader, "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground." They that look upon it look upon expressions of the eternal Spirit. They that rightly take its lessons drink in living emanations from unsearchable Godhead. It is the abiding miracle of _rapport_ with the Mind which projected, upholds, and governs the universe. It is the Word of God. III. The testimonies of the Lord are wonderful in their originality and instructiveness. The Bible depends upon no discoveries of man, and leans upon no other books. If it says some things which may be learned elsewhere, its utterances are always independent and peculiarly its own. The world through which it ranges is much wider than that of man's thoughts. It goes back to a remoter antiquity; it takes in a broader space; it extends to a vaster future; it introduces to sublimer spheres and forms of being; and it exhibits a much profounder wisdom. It opens arcana of which no earthly powers ever dreamed, and is at home in regions where the sublimest imaginings of man had hardly extended a guess. On all the great questions of theology, life, death, and futurity, it speaks with a familiarity, comprehensiveness, and propriety which at once command our confidence and satisfy our hearts. What it touches, it touches with a master's hand. It never speaks without pregnant meaning in all its words. And there is nothing in human science, poetry, or tradition which it does not exceed in knowledge, wisdom, and real value. In its account of the creation, and the origin of things, there is nothing to compare with it. In all the historians, philosophers, and secular authors,-the books of Zoroaster, the records of Phoenicia and Egypt, the Dialogues of Plato and Lucian, the annals of China, the treatises of Plutarch, the Shastras of India, the Edda of Scandinavia, and all the schemes that have ever been given in explanation of the earth's primal history,--there is nothing so natural, so magnificent, so simple, so appropriate, so reliable, so satisfactory, as the first chapter of Genesis. Nor have all the discoveries of modern geology brought forward anything to convict Moses of a false cosmogony. If it is a truth that the history of the earth's formation runs back through uncounted ages, he leaves an interval for it, between "the beginning" and the period when God caused light to appear upon its dark and misty surface. If it is true that vast eras have been traversed by each separate order of living things, one after the other, we find precisely the same succession in the Mosaic account which is found preserved in the different layers of the earth's crust. And if it be true that there was life upon our world ages and cycles of ages before the period noted in Genesis as that in which man was created, it is also true that no traces of human existence are found except in the most recent deposits. A certain stonemason of the village of Cromartie, with sledge and chisel, himself delved through every formation, from the surface-mold down through the old red sandstone to the Silurian, gneiss, and granite, and, having mastered all that is known concerning each, has written it down as the result of his marvelous explorations, that the truthfulness of the Mosaic record is engraven upon the rocks forever. And so in every department of science the Bible is always true to nature, and has invariably been in advance of all human investigations and discoveries. How many thousands of years have metaphysicians and psychologists been at work to map out, classify, and gauge the various capacities and powers of the human mind and soul! But they have found no way of approach to the heart so masterly and effective as that taken by the Scriptures; and the more that is known of the nature of the man, the more clearly is it seen that the Bible comprehended it from the commencement. It has been but a few years since Newton laid open the laws of gravitation; and yet the Scriptures spoke of the earth being hung "upon nothing," as if familiar with the whole subject, before human science had begun to form even its feeblest guesses in the case. It has only been since the invention of the telescope enabled men to search through the starry spaces that Sir John Herschel has discovered in the northern sky a peculiar barrenness; but more than three thousand years ago Job told Bildad the Shuhite that "God stretched out the north over the empty place." It has been but a few years since science discovered "that the sun is not the dead center of motion, around which comets sweep and planets whirl," but that "the earth and sun, with their splendid retinue of comets, satellites, and planets, are all in motion around some point or center of attraction inconceivably remote, and that that point is in the direction of the star Alcyone, one of the Pleiades"; which would hence seem to be "the midnight throne" in which the whole system of gravitation has its central seat and from which all material orbs are governed. But the Bible asked the question, more than thirty centuries ago, "Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades?" as if the speaker knew all about the facts in the case. How long has it been since the doctrine of the rotundity of the earth has been settled by scientific men? yet the Psalmist spoke of "the round world"; and Solomon described in brief the true theory of wind-currents, and strongly hinted the circulation of the blood, at least twenty-five hundred years ago. And, with all the advances of knowledge which have so wonderfully marked the last three hundred years, in which the spirit of philosophic inquiry has ranged the universe, searched heaven, earth, and sea, knocked at every door, peered into every recess, consulted every oracle of nature, and gathered trophies of power and treasures of wisdom and sublimities of knowledge at which the world has been amazed,--in all the motions which the experimentist has traced, in all the principles of power which the master of physics has discovered, in all the combinations which the chemist has detected, in all the forms which the naturalist has recorded, in all the spiritual phenomena which the metaphysician has described, and in all the conditions and relations of mind or matter, past or present, which human research has found out,--there has not come to light one truth to contradict these holy records, or to require the relinquishment or change of one word in all the great volume of Scripture. IV. The testimonies of the Lord are wonderful in beauty and literary excellence. The Bible is a casket of jewelry of the richest hues and the most exquisite workmanship. Sir William Jones, that great Orientalist and scholar, has said, "I have regularly and attentively perused these Holy Scriptures, and am of the opinion that this volume, independently of its divine origin, contains more true sublimity, more exquisite beauty, more pure morality, more important history, and finer strains of poetry and eloquence, than can be collected from all other books, in whatever age or language they may have been written." Even Rousseau wrote, "The majesty of the Scriptures strikes me with admiration. The works of our philosophers, with all their pomp of diction, how mean, how contemptible, in comparison with them!" Nor does it matter much what part of the Scriptures we take, or in what department of rhetoric we test them. Whether it be history or prophecy, the Old Testament or the New, narrative or description, poetry or prose, the same characteristics are to be seen. Moses is as pure and simple as Adam and Eve in Paradise, and yet as majestic and grand as that great creation which he describes. Job contains a drama which is without a parallel,--a drama of facts in which heaven and earth, visible and invisible, with all their wonderful interpenetrations, are set out in their connection with a suffering saint upon his couch, and in which the spirit of earnest inquiry urges itself forward until everything comes forth to declare the majesty of God, and all the might and goodness of man lies prostrate before Him who "bringeth forth Mazzaroth in his season" and speaketh comfortably to them that trust in Him. Under the leadership of David's muse, we pass through varied scenes of beauty and grandeur,--pastures and glens, still waters and roaring floods, dismal swamps and silent wildernesses, forests crashing with the lightnings of God and tempests that convulse the seas, the smoke and fury of battle and the shoutings of glad multitudes, by dells of lonely sorrow and along the starry archways of the sky,--until at length we take our places in a temple high as heaven and wide as space, with all objects of creation as living worshipers around us, each with its separate hymn of grateful joy, blending in one almighty adoration. Isaiah rises upon us like some "mighty orb of song," whose rays are streaming minstrelsies, that have thrilled upon the hearts of men for seventy generations, and which must needs thrill on, unrivaled in their kind, while earth and time endure. Ezekiel is a very comet of fire, flaming his impetuous way across the heavens, and, like the living spirits in his own first vision, going and returning as a flash of lightning. And throughout,--the Evangelists with their simple story of Jesus, and Paul in his epistles and orations, and John in his loving letters and apocalyptic visions,--from the first words, "In the beginning," onward to the last "amen," we find variety, beauty, pathos, dignity, sweetness, magnificence, and glory, such as are contained in no other composition. Here are the sublimest heights and the profoundest depths, and all the gradations from the one to the other. From the worm that grovels in the dust, to the leviathan in the foaming deep, and the supreme archangel, and the eternal God; from the hyssop on the wall, to the cedars of Lebanon, and the healing trees which shade life's eternal river; from the pearl-drops which trickle from the mountain rock, to the noise of dashing torrents, and the wide waters of the deluge; from the glowworm under the thorn, to the sun in the heavens, and the great Father of Lights; from the lone pilgrim to the triumphing host, and the gathering multitude which no man can number; from the deepest sorrows of the lost, to the probation scenes of earth and the seraphic visions of the blest,--there is nothing known to mortals which God hath not brought into requisition to intensify and adorn the precious book which He has given to men. As an eloquent preacher beyond the sea remarks, "He has filled it with marvelous incident and engaging history, with sunny pictures from Old-World scenery and affecting anecdotes from patriarchal times. He has replenished it with stately argument and thrilling verse, and sprinkled it over with sententious wisdom and proverbial pungency. It has the gracefulness of high utility; it has the majesty of intrinsic power; it has the charm of its own sanctity: it never labors, never strives, but, instinct with great realities and bent on blessed ends, has all the translucent beauty and unstudied power which you might expect from its lofty object and all-wise Author." Some call these Scriptures dull and uninviting; but there is no book in being with so many real attractions. There is no classic equal to it,--no historian like Moses, no poet like Job or Isaiah, no singer like David, no orator like Paul, no character like Jesus, and no revelation of God or nature like that which these venerable pages give. Not without reason has Sir Thomas Browne said, "Were it of man, I could not choose but say it was the singularest and superlative piece that hath been extant since the creation. Were I a pagan, I should not refrain the lecture of it, and can not but commend the judgment of Ptolemy, that thought not his library complete without it." V. The testimonies of the Lord are wonderful in their influences and effects. The Bible has been, for three thousand years, one of the greatest potencies on earth. It has been, and is to this moment, a greater power than Rome, or Greece, or Babylon ever was. Though it has not conquered the world, it has advanced further towards it than Alexander ever did. It has done more to govern and renew the human heart than all the laws enacted by legislators, and all the maxims devised by uninspired sages, and all the lessons, apart from itself, that were ever given to the race. It is the chief stay of a society which for a thousand years has been the most widespread, the most important, and the most powerful association on the earth. It has controlled the religious opinions of a large part of mankind for nearly forty centuries. It has molded characters and directed the efforts of men whose lives and labors introduced new eras and shaped the destinies of nations and turned the course of the world's entire history. It has begotten and fostered the purest virtue, the sublimest manhood, the noblest beneficence, the sincerest charity, the tenderest kindness, and all the blessed saintship, that have ever been upon earth. Its vast influence upon the welfare of nations may be estimated in part from the bloody codes, and infamous administrations, and social degradations, and far-reaching wretchedness, of those countries where it is rejected or unknown, contrasted with the blessedness and peace of those who have received it. It was the great Milton who said, "There are no politics like those which the Scriptures teach"; and in proof we need only look at Judea when it knew no laws but those which this book contains. How smooth and steady were the wheels of public justice, and how beautiful was the flow of national peace, in those golden days of the old Hebrew commonwealth! How did the joyous vines, and fields of waving ears, and gold of Ophir, and flocks and cattle abiding on a thousand hills, and cities full of peace and plenty, proclaim abroad the wealth and blessedness of that goodly land! How did the voice of singing and the fragrance of virtue linger round each habitation, and the sacrifices of praise crowd all the temple's courts from tribes rejoicing in the smiles of God! In the sphere of learning and thought-creations, also, the influence of the Bible is equally marked and wonderful. It is to the world of letters what the sun is to the solar system, the fountain of the purest light and brightest wisdom. It has produced more books than any other one thing in existence. It has fostered learning when there was no other stimulation to its cultivation felt. Even the heathen classics owe their preservation to it. As a book written in other times, places, and languages, it has called forth the most laboriously compiled lexicons, grammars, and works on archeology by which the world of the present communes with the world of the past. As a book claiming the faith and obedience of men, it has created a world of learned apology, comment, and exposition, and some of the noblest specimens of argument, eloquence, and appeal which are known to man. And, simply as a book among books, it has wrought wondrously upon the thoughts and productions of authors of all classes. The Visions of Dante are largely drawn from it. Every canto of the Faerie Queene bears the impress of its influence. Milton's matchless songs of Paradise are from an inspiration which the Bible alone could give. From the same source came the immortal dream of Bunyan, the Pauline reasonings of Barrow, the flaming zeal of Richard Baxter, the "molten wealth" and "lava of gold and gems" which poured down "the russet steep of Puritan theology," the songs of Cowper, and "Thoughts" of Young, and visions of Pollok, and mighty eloquence of the Luthers, the Knoxes, the Massillons, the Whitefields, and the Halls. Addison, and Thomson, and Burke, and Dryden, and Wordsworth, and Coleridge, and Southey, and Campbell, and Goethe, all are vastly indebted to the Scriptures for whatever excellences are found in their works. Shakespeare drew largely from this same precious mine, and also even Hobbes, and Shelley, and Byron. That prince of modern orators, Daniel Webster, once said, "If there be anything in my style or thoughts to be commended, the credit is due to my kind parents in instilling into my mind an early love of the Scriptures." Indeed, if we were to destroy the Bible, and take from the world of literature and thought all that it has contributed directly or indirectly, half the history of the race would be swept out of mind, the noblest ideas that have swelled man's heart would be gone, some of the proudest monuments of human genius would be buried in oblivion, and thick darkness would settle down upon the world forever. VI. The testimonies of the Lord are wonderful as a fountain of consolation, hope and salvation. The Bible to all its other excellences adds this, that it is the Book of Life. It is not only a basket of silver network, but it contains apples of gold. It is the record of glad tidings to a perishing world, a message of joy to all people. In it, Wisdom hath mingled her wine, and slain her fatlings, and furnished her table, and calls all the hungry and needy to come and partake. The entrance of its words giveth light and imparteth understanding to the simple, and maketh wise unto salvation. It is a balm from Gilead for the sick, oil for the bruises of the wounded, reprieve for the prison-bound, and bread for them that are ready to perish. Its different books are but so many angels of mercy, carrying contentment into the abodes of poverty, enabling even the children of want to lift up their eyes to God who ordereth all things well, and to eat their scanty meals in peace; staying the hearts of the persecuted and opprest, causing them to rejoice and sing under the yoke, at the stake, and in the hottest of the fires, as on their passage-way to crowns immortal in the world to come; calming the minds of the fevered, mollifying where all earthly medicines fail, and kindling glad hopes of recompense yet to be revealed; lighting up comforts in the breasts of those that mourn for their dead, and assuring them of blessed reunions in a better life; and kindling even the dying eye and inspiring the dying heart with thoughts of speedy triumph, causing lips already closed for death to open once more in utterances of victory. We may talk of the venerable age of the Bible, and its scientific accuracy, and its literary beauty and sublimity, and its wonderful influences upon the ideas, laws, governments, and general order of society and mankind; but it is all nothing in comparison with the spiritual good and immortal hopes and consolations which it begets in those who receive it as a message from their God. Are we voyagers upon a troubled and a dangerous sea? Here is a chart by which to steer in safety to the happy shores. Are we soldiers, beset with foes and required to endure the shocks of battle? This is an armory from which all needed weapons may be drawn at will, and by the right use of which we may hew our way to immortal triumph. Are we pilgrims and strangers, worn and weary in our search for the home from which we are exiles? In this book gush out the pure, fresh waters of life, the cooling shades from the Rock of salvation appear, and the guiding word is heard from pilgrims in advance, to cheer and encourage us till we reach the mansion of our Father. Indeed, it is beyond the power of language to express the excellency and richness of spiritual treasure which we have in this holy Book. It is the miraculous cruse of the Shunamitess which never exhausts. It is the wand of Moses which swallows the serpents of life, and parts the sea of trouble, and brings forth waters in the thirsty wilderness. It is the ladder of Jacob on which our spirits ascend to commune with God and angels. It is the telescope of faith by which we look on things invisible, survey even the third heavens, and have present to our view what is to be in after-ages. It is the chariot of Elijah in which to ride up the starry way to immortality unhurt of death. It is the channel of the almighty Spirit as it goes forth for the sanctification of the race,--the very gulf-stream of eternal life as it pours out for the resuscitation of our wilted and decaying world. Allusion has been made to the dreadful eclipse it would be to the world of letters and thought, for the Bible, and what it has done for man, to be blotted out. But that were nothing to the moral and spiritual night that would go along with such a calamity. Besides carrying away with it a vast proportion of the intellectual and moral life of the last eighteen centuries, it would silence every preacher of salvation, and abolish at once his office and his text. It would stop every work of mercy and plan of philanthropy in the world. It would transmute into a lie all our fond anticipations of the return of Jesus to renew the world, restore our dead, complete our salvation, and bring us to an eternal heaven. It would hush forever the glad tidings with which men have comforted themselves for these many weary ages. It would put out the mother's hopes of her dead babes, quench the wife's fond desires for her husband's everlasting peace, destroy the widow's consolation as she lingers by the grave of her buried love, and extinguish the matron's last comfort as she trembles on the verge of eternity. It would take with it all the reliefs and blessedness which prayer in the name of Jesus gives, and leave the sinner without pardon in the extremities of life. It would take away the last appeal of the slave against his oppressor, remove the last check of tyranny, and lift from the wicked hearts of men the last restraints, giving carnival to every lust and play to every passion, without correction, without limit, and without end! We stagger, and are horrified, at the mere idea of the loss that would be inflicted. Chills run down our pulses at the contemplation of the despair and wretchedness which would ensue. Let us, then, learn to value the possession of such a precious book. Let us bind it to our hearts as our chief treasure in this sin-darkened world. And, whilst we admire its beauty and revere its mysteries, let us abide by its precepts, and, as far as in us lies, practise its sacred mandates. MACLAREN THE PATTERN OF SERVICE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE ALEXANDER MACLAREN was born in 1826, educated at Glasgow University, for twelve years preached at Southampton, and afterwards for many years in Manchester. Besides an impressive face and figure he brought to the pulpit a ripe scholarship, an almost perfect English style, and an uncommonly vigorous personality. The keynote of his life and character is disclosed in his own words, uttered in Manchester: "I have been so convinced that I was best serving all the varied social, economical, and political interests that are dear to me by preaching what I conceived to be the gospel of Jesus Christ, that I have limited myself to that work. I am sure, with a growing conviction day by day, that so we Christian ministers best serve our generation. My work, whatever yours may be, is, and has been for thirty-eight years, and I hope will be for a little while longer yet, to preach Jesus Christ as the King of England and the Lord of all our communities, and the Savior and friend of the individual soul." MACLAREN BORN IN 1826 THE PATTERN OF SERVICE[2] [2] From "The Secret of Power, and Other Sermons," published by Funk & Wagnalls Company. _He touched his tongue; and looking up to heaven, He sighed, and saith, Ephphatha, that is, Be opened._--Mark vii., 33, 34. For what reason was there this unwonted slowness in Christ's healing works? For what reason was there this unusual emotion ere He spoke the word which cleansed? As to the former question, a partial answer may perhaps be that our Lord is here on half-heathen ground, where aids to faith were much needed, and His power had to be veiled that it might be beheld. Hence the miracle is a process rather than an act; and, advancing as it does by distinct stages, is conformed in appearance to men's works of mercy, which have to adapt means to ends, and creep to their goal by persevering toil. As to the latter, we know not why the sight of this one poor sufferer should have struck so strongly on the ever-tremulous chords of Christ's pitying heart; but we do know that it was the vision brought before His spirit by this single instance of the world's griefs and sicknesses, in which mass, however, the special case before Him was by no means lost, that raised His eyes to heaven in mute appeal, and forced the groan from His breast. The missionary spirit is but one aspect of the Christian spirit. We shall only strengthen the former as we invigorate the latter. Harm has been done, both to ourselves and to this great cause, by seeking to stimulate compassion and efforts for heathen lands by the use of other excitements, which have tended to vitiate even the emotions they have aroused, and are apt to fail us when we need them most. It may therefore be profitable if we turn to Christ's own manner of working, and His own emotions in His merciful deeds, set forth in this remarkable narrative, as containing lessons for us in our missionary and evangelistic work. I must necessarily omit more than a passing reference to the slow process of healing which this miracle exhibits. But that, too, has its teaching for us, who are so often tempted to think ourselves badly used, unless the fruit of our toil grows up, like Jonah's gourd, before our eyes. If our Lord was content to reach His end of blessing step by step, we may well accept patient continuance in well-doing as the condition indispensable to reaping in due season. But there are other thoughts still more needful which suggest themselves. Those minute details which this evangelist ever delights to give of our Lord's gestures, words, looks, and emotions, not only add graphic force to the narrative, but are precious glimpses of the very heart of Christ. That fixed gaze into heaven, that groan which neither the glories seen above nor the conscious power to heal could stifle, that most gentle touch, as if removing material obstacles from the deaf ears, and moistening the stiff tongue that it might move more freely in the parched mouth, that word of authority which could not be wanting even when His working seemed likest a servant's, do surely carry large lessons for us. The condition of all service, the cost of feeling at which our work must be done, the need that the helpers should identify themselves with the sufferers, and the victorious power of Christ's word over all deaf ears--these are the thoughts which I desire to connect with our text, and to commend to your meditation to-day. We have here set forth the foundation and condition of all true work for God in the Lord's heavenward look. The profound questions which are involved in the fact that, as man, Christ held communion with God in the exercise of faith and aspiration, the same in kind as ours, do not concern us here. I speak to those who believe that Jesus is for us the perfect example of complete manhood, and who therefore believe that He is "the leader of faith," the head of the long procession of those who in every age have trusted in God and been lightened. But, perhaps, tho that conviction holds its place in our creeds, it has not been as completely incorporated with our thoughts as it should have been. There has, no doubt, been a tendency, operating in much of our evangelical teaching, and in the common stream of orthodox opinion, to except, half unconsciously, the exercises of the religious life from the sphere of Christ's example, and we need to be reminded that Scripture presents His vow, "I will put my trust in Him," as the crowning proof of His brotherhood, and that the prints of His kneeling limbs have left their impressions where we kneel before the throne. True, the relation of the Son to the Father involves more than communion--namely, unity. But if we follow the teaching of the Bible, we shall not presume that the latter excludes the former, but understand that the unity is the foundation of perfect communion, and the communion the manifestation, so far as it can be manifested, of the unspeakable unity. The solemn words which shine like stars--starlike in that their height above us shrinks their magnitude and dims their brightness, and in that they are points of radiance partially disclosing, and separated by, abysses of unlighted infinitude--tell us that in the order of eternity, before creatures were, there was communion, for "the Word was with God," and there was unity, for "the Word was God." And in the records of the life manifested on earth the consciousness of unity loftily utters itself in the unfathomable declaration, "I and my Father are one"; whilst the consciousness of communion, dependent like ours on harmony of will and true obedience, breathes peacefully in the witness which He leaves to Himself: "The Father has not left me alone for I do always the things that please him." We are fully warranted in supposing that that wistful gaze to heaven means, and may be taken to symbolize, our Lord's conscious direction of thought and spirit to God as He wrought His work of mercy. There are two distinctions to be noted between His communion with God and ours before we can apply the lesson to ourselves. His heavenward look was not the renewal of interrupted fellowship, but rather, as a man standing firmly on firm rock may yet lift his foot to plant it again where it was before, and settle himself in his attitude before he strikes with all his might; so we may say Christ fixes Himself where He always stood, and grasps anew the hand that He always held, before He does the deed of power. The communion that had never been broken was renewed; how much more the need that in our work for God the renewal of the--alas! too sadly sundered--fellowship should ever precede and always accompany our efforts! And again, Christ's fellowship was with the Father. Ours must be with the Father through the Son. The communion to which we are called is with Jesus Christ, in whom we find God. The manner of that intercourse, and the various discipline of ourselves with a view to its perfecting, which Christian prudence prescribes, need not concern us here. As for the latter, let us not forget that a wholesome and wide-reaching self-denial cannot be dispensed with. Hands that are full of gilded toys and glass beads cannot grasp durable riches, and eyes that have been accustomed to glaring lights see only darkness when they look up to the violet heaven with all its stars. As to the former, every part of our nature above the simply animal is capable of God, and the communion ought to include our whole being. Christ is truth for the understanding, authority for the will, love for the heart, certainty for the hope, fruition for all the desires, and for the conscience at once cleansing and law. Fellowship with Him is no indolent passiveness, nor the luxurious exercise of certain emotions, but the contact of the whole nature with its sole adequate object and rightful Lord. Such intercourse, brethren, lies at the foundation of all work for God. It is the condition of all our power. It is the measure of all our success. Without it we may seem to realize the externals of prosperity, but it will be all illusion. With it we may perchance seem to spend our strength for naught; but heaven has its surprizes; and those who toiled, nor left their hold of their Lord in all their work, will have to say at last with wonder, as they see the results of their poor efforts, "Who hath begotten me these? behold, I was left alone; these, where had they been?" Consider in few words the manifold ways in which the indispensable prerequisite of all right effort for Christ may be shown to be communion with Christ. The heavenward look is the renewal of our own vision of the calm verities in which we trust, the recourse for ourselves to the realities which we desire that others should see. And what is equal in persuasive power to the simple utterance of your own intense conviction? He only will infuse his own religion into other minds, whose religion is not a set of hard dogmas, but is fused by the heat of personal experience into a river of living fire. It will flow then, not otherwise. The only claim which the hearts of men will listen to, in those who would win them to spiritual beliefs, is that ancient one: "That which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, declare we unto you." Mightier than all arguments, than all "proofs of the truth of the Christian religion," and penetrating into a sphere deeper than that of the understanding, is the simple proclamation, "We have found the Messias." If we would give sight to the blind, we must ourselves be gazing into heaven. Only when we testify of that which we see, as one might who, standing in a beleaguered city, discerned on the horizon the filmy dust-cloud through which the spear-heads of the deliverers flashed at intervals, shall we win any to gaze with us till they too behold and know themselves set free. Christ has set us the example. Let our prayers ascend as His did, and in our measure the answers which came to Him will not fail us. For us, too, "praying, the heavens" shall be "opened," and the peace-bringing spirit fall dove-like on our meek hearts. For us, too, when the shadow of our cross lies black and gaunt upon our paths, and our souls are troubled, communion with heaven will bring the assurance, audible to our ears at least, that God will glorify Himself even in us. If, after many a weary day, we seek to hold fellowship with God as He sought it on the Mount of Olives, or among the solitudes of the midnight hills, or out in the morning freshness of the silent wilderness, like Him we shall have men gathering around us to hear us speak when we come forth from the secret place of the Most High. If our prayer, like His, goes before our mighty deeds, the voice that first pierced the skies will penetrate the tomb, and make the dead stir in their grave-clothes. If our longing, trustful look is turned to the heavens, we shall not speak in vain on earth when we say, "Be opened." Brethren, we cannot do without the communion which our Master needed. Do we delight in what strengthened Him? Does our work rest upon the basis of inward fellowship with God which underlay His? Alas! that our pattern should be our rebuke, and the readiest way to force home our faults on our consciences should be the contemplation of the life which we say that we try to copy! We have here pity for the evils we would remove set forth by the Lord's sigh. What was it that drew that sigh from the heart of Jesus? One poor man stood before Him, by no means the most sorely afflicted of the many wretched ones whom He healed. But He saw in him more than a solitary instance of physical infirmities. Did there not roll darkly before His thoughts that whole weltering sea of sorrow that moans round the world, of which here is but one drop that He could dry up? Did there not rise black and solid against the clear blue, to which He had been looking, the mass of man's sin, of which these bodily infirmities were but a poor symbol as well as a consequence? He saw as none but He could bear to see, the miserable realities of human life. His knowledge of all that man might be, of all that the most of men were becoming, His power of contemplating in one awful aggregate the entire sum of sorrows and sins, laid upon His heart a burden which none but He has ever endured. His communion with Heaven deepened the dark shadow on earth, and the eyes that looked up to God and saw Him could not but see foulness where others suspected none, and murderous messengers of hell walking in darkness unpenetrated by mortal sight. And all that pain of clearer knowledge of the sorrowfulness of sorrow, and the sinfulness of sin, was laid upon a heart in which was no selfishness to blunt the sharp edge of the pain nor any sin to stagnate the pity that flowed from the wound. To Jesus Christ, life was a daily martyrdom before death had "made the sacrifice complete," and He bore our griefs, and carried our sorrows through many a weary hour before He "bare them in his own body on the tree." Therefore, "Bear ye one another's burden, and so fulfil the law" which Christ obeyed, becomes a command for all who would draw men to Him. And true sorrow, a sharp and real sense of pain, becomes indispensable as preparation for, and accompaniment to, our work. Mark how in us, as in our Lord, the sigh of compassion is connected with the look to heaven. It follows upon that gaze. The evils are more real, more terrible, by their startling contrast with the unshadowed light which lives above cloudracks and mists. It is a sharp shock to turn from the free sweep of the heavens, starry and radiant, to the sights that meet us in "this dim spot which men call earth." Thus habitual communion with God is the root of the truest and purest compassion. It does not withdraw us from our fellow feeling with our brethren, it cultivates no isolation for undisturbed beholding of God. It at once supplies a standard by which to measure the greatness of man's godlessness, and therefore of his gloom, and a motive for laying the pain of these upon our hearts, as if they were our own. He has looked into the heavens to little purpose who has not learned how bad and how sad the world now is, and how God bends over it in pitying love. And that same fellowship, which will clear our eyes and soften our hearts, is also the one consolation which we have when our sense of all the ills that flesh is heir to becomes deep, near to despair. When one thinks of the real facts of human life, and tries to conceive of the frightful meanness and passion and hate and wretchedness, that has been howling and shrieking and gibbering and groaning through dreary millenniums, one's brain reels, and hope seems to be absurdity, and joy a sin against our fellows, as a feast would be in a house next door to where was a funeral. I do not wonder at settled sorrow falling upon men of vivid imagination, keen moral sense, and ordinary sensitiveness, when they brood long on the world as it is. But I do wonder at the superficial optimism which goes on with its little prophecies about human progress, and its rose-colored pictures of human life, and sees nothing to strike it dumb for ever in men's writhing miseries, blank failures, and hopeless end. Ah! brethren, if it were not for the heavenward look, how could we bear the sight of earth! "We see not yet all things put under him." No, God knows, far enough off from that. Man's folly, man's submission to the creatures he should rule, man's agonies, and man's transgression, are a grim contrast to the psalmist's vision. If we had only earth to look to, despair of the race, exprest in settled melancholy apathy, or in fierce cynicism, were the wisest attitude. But there is more within our view than earth; "we see Jesus"; we look to the heaven, and as we behold the true man, we see more than ever, indeed, how far from that pattern we all are; but we can bear the thought of what men as yet have been, when we see that perfect example of what men shall be. The root and the consolation of our sorrow for man's evils is communion with God. We have here loving contact with those whom we would help, set forth in the Lord's touch. The reasons for the variety observable in Christ's method of communicating supernatural blessing were, probably, too closely connected with unrecorded differences in the spiritual conditions of the recipients to be distinctly traceable by us. But tho we cannot tell why a particular method was employed in a given case, why now a word, and now a symbolic action, now the touch of His hand, and now the hem of His garment, appeared to be the vehicles of His power, we can discern the significance of these divers ways, and learn great lessons from them all. His touch was sometimes obviously the result of what one may venture to call instinctive tenderness, as when He lifted the little children in His arms and laid His hands upon their heads. It was, I suppose, always the spontaneous expression of love and compassion, even when it was something more. The touch of His hand on the ghastly glossiness of the leper's skin was, no doubt, His assertion of priestly functions, and of elevation above all laws of defilement; but what was it to the poor outcast, who for years had never felt the warm contact of flesh and blood? It always indicated that He Himself was the source of healing and life. It always exprest His identification of Himself with sorrow and sickness. So that it is in principle analogous to, and may be taken as illustrative of, that transcendent act whereby He became flesh, and dwelt among us. Indeed, the very word by which our Lord's taking the blind man by the hand is described in the chapter following our text is that employed in the Epistle to the Hebrews when, dealing with the true brotherhood of Jesus, the writer says, "He took not hold of angels, but of the seed of Abraham he taketh hold." Christ's touch is His willing contact with man's infirmities and sins, that He may strengthen and hallow. And the lesson is one of universal application. Wherever men would help their fellows, this is a prime requisite, that the would-be helper should come down to the level of those whom he desires to aid. If we wish to teach, we must stoop to think the scholar's thoughts. The master who has forgotten his boyhood will have poor success. If we would lead to purer emotions, we must try to enter into the lower feelings which we labor to elevate. It is of no use to stand at the mouth of the alleys we wish to cleanse, with our skirts daintily gathered about us, and smelling-bottle in hand, to preach homilies on the virtue of cleanliness. We must go in among the filth, and handle it, if we want to have it cleared away. The degraded must feel that we do not shrink from them, or we shall do them no good. The leper, shunned by all, and ashamed of himself because everybody loathes him, hungers in his hovel for the grasp of a hand that does not care for defilement, if it can bring cleansing. Even in regard to common material helps the principle holds good. We are too apt to cast our doles to the poor like the bones to a dog, and then to wonder at what we are pleased to think men's ingratitude. A benefit may be so conferred as to hurt more than a blow; and we cannot be surprized if so-called charity which is given with contempt and a sense of superiority, should be received with a scowl, and chafe a man's spirit like a fetter. Such gifts bless neither him who gives nor him who takes. We must put our hearts into them, if we would win hearts by them. We must be ready, like our Master, to take blind beggars by the hand, if we would bless or help them. The despair and opprobrium of our modern civilization, the gulf growing wider and deeper between Dives and Lazarus, between Belgravia and Whitechapel, the mournful failure of legalized help, and of delegated efforts to bridge it over, the darkening ignorance, the animal sensuousness, the utter heathenism that lives in every town of England, within a stone's throw of Christian houses, and near enough to hear the sound of public worship, will yield to nothing but that sadly forgotten law which enjoins personal contact with the sinful and the suffering, as one chief condition of raising them from the black mire in which they welter. The effect of much well-meant Christian effort is simply to irritate. People are very quick to catch delicate intonations which reveal a secret sense, "how much better, wiser, more devout I am than these people!" and wherever a trace of that appears in our work, the good of it is apt to be marred. We all know how hackneyed the charge of spiritual pride and Pharisaic self-complacency is, and, thank God, how unjust it often is. But averse as men may be to the truths which humble, and willing as they may be to assume that the very effort to present these to others on our parts implies a claim which mortifies, we may at least learn from the threadbare calumny, what strikes men about our position, and what rouses their antaganism to us. It is allowable to be taught by our enemies, especially when it is such a lesson as this, that we must carefully divest our evangelistic work of apparent pretensions to superiority, and take our stand by the side of those to whom we speak. We cannot lecture men into the love of Christ. We can but win them to it by showing Christ's love to them; and not the least important element in that process is the exhibition of our own love. We have a gospel to speak of which the very heart is, that the Son of God stooped to become one with the lowliest and most sinful; and how can that gospel be spoken with power unless we, too, stoop like Him? We have to echo the invitation, "Learn of me, for I am lowly in heart"; and how can such divine words flow from lips into which like grace has not been poured? Our theme is a Savior who shrunk from no sinner, who gladly consorted with publicans and harlots, who laid His hand on pollution, and His heart, full of God and of love, on hearts reeking with sin; and how can our message correspond with our theme if, even in delivering it, we are saying to ourselves, "The temple of the Lord are we: this people which knoweth not the law is curst"? Let us beware of the very real danger which besets us in this matter, and earnestly seek to make ourselves one with those whom we would gather into Christ, by actual familiarity with their condition, and by identification of ourselves in feeling with them, after the example of that greatest of Christian teachers who became "all things to all men, that by all means he might gain some"; after the higher example, which Paul followed, of that dear Lord who, being highest, descended to the lowest, and in the days of His humiliation was not content with speaking words of power from afar, nor abhorred the contact of mortality and disease and loathsome corruption; but laid His hands upon death, and it lived; upon sickness, and it was whole; on rotting leprosy, and it was sweet as the flesh of a little child. The same principle might be further applied to our Christian work, as affecting the form in which we should present the truth. The sympathetic identification of ourselves with those to whom we try to carry the gospel will certainly make us wise to know how to shape our message. Seeing with their eyes, we shall be able to graduate the light. Thinking their thoughts, and having in some measure succeeded, by force of sheer community of feeling, in having as it were got inside their minds, we shall unconsciously, and without effort, be led to such aspects of Christ's all-comprehensive truth as they most need. There will be no shooting over people's heads, if we love them well enough to understand them. There will be no toothless generalities, when our interest in men keeps their actual condition and temptations clear before us. There will be no flinging fossil doctrines at them from a height, as if Christ's blest gospel were, in another than the literal sense, "a stone of offense," if we have taken our place on their level. And without such sympathy, these and a thousand other weaknesses and faults will certainly vitiate much of our Christian effort. We have here the true healing power and the consciousness of wielding it set forth in the Lord's authoritative word. All the rest of His action was either the spontaneous expression of His true participation in human sorrow, or a merciful veiling of His glory that sense-bound eyes might see it the better. But the word was the utterance of His will, and that was omnipotent. The hand laid on the sick, the blind or the deaf was not even the channel of His power. The bare putting forth of His energy was all-sufficient. In these we see the loving, pitying man. In this blazes forth, yet more loving, yet more compassionate, the effulgence of manifest God. Therefore so often do we read the very syllables with which His "voice then shook the earth," vibrating through all the framework of the material universe. Therefore do the gospels bid us listen when He rebukes the fever, and it departs; when He says to the demons, "Go," and they go; when one word louder in its human articulation than the howling wind hushes the surges; when "Talitha cumi" brings back the fair young spirit from dreary wanderings among the shades of death. Therefore was it a height of faith not found in Israel when the Gentile soldier, whose training had taught him the power of absolute authority, as heathenism had driven him to long for a man who would speak with the imperial sway of a god, recognized in His voice an all-commanding power. From of old, the very signature of divinity has been declared to be "He spake, and it was done"; and He, the breath of whose lips could set in motion material changes, is that eternal Word, by whom all things were made. What unlimited consciousness of sovereign dominion sounds in that imperative from His autocratic lips! It is spoken in deaf ears, but He knows that it will be heard. He speaks as the fontal source, not as the recipient channel of healing. He anticipates no delay, no resistance. There is neither effort nor uncertainty in the curt command. He is sure that He has power, and He is sure that the power is His own. There is no analogy here between us and Him. Alone, fronting the whole race of man, He stands--utterer of a word which none can say after Him, possessor of unshared might, and of His fulness do we all receive. But even from that divine authority and solitary sovereign consciousness we may gather lessons not altogether aside from the purpose of our meeting here to-day. Of His fulness we have received, and the power of the word on His lips may teach us that of His word, even on ours, as the victorious certainty with which He spake His will of healing may remind us of the confidence with which it becomes us to proclaim His name. His will was almighty then. Is it less mighty or less loving now? Does it not gather all the world in the sweep of its mighty purpose of mercy? His voice pierced then into the dull cold ear of death, and has it become weaker since? His word spoken by Him was enough to banish the foul spirits that run riot, swine-like, in the garden of God in man's soul, trampling down and eating up its flowers and fruitage; is the word spoken of Him less potent to cast them out? Were not all the mighty deeds which He wrought by the breath of His lips on men's bodies prophecies of the yet mightier which His Will of love, and the utterance of that Will by stammering lips, may work on men's souls. Let us not in our faint-heartedness number up our failures, the deaf that will not hear, the dumb that will not speak, His praise; nor unbelievingly say Christ's own word was mighty, but the word concerning Christ is weak on our lips. Not so; our lips are unclean, and our words are weak, but His word--the utterance of His loving will that men should be saved--is what it always was and always will be. We have it, brethren, to proclaim. Did our Master countenance the faithless contrast between the living force of His word when He dwelt on earth, and the feebleness of it as He speaks through His servant? If He did, what did He mean when He said, "He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also, and greater works than these shall he do, because I go unto the Father"? CROSBY THE PREPARED WORM BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Howard Crosby, Presbyterian divine, was born in New York City in 1826, educated at New York University, graduating in 1851, was professor of Greek at that institution until 1859, when he was elected to the same chair in Rutgers College. He was pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of New Brunswick, N. J., for the two years ending in 1863, when he assumed charge of the Fourth Avenue Presbyterian Church, New York. From 1870 to 1881 he was chancellor of the University of New York. His activities in the cause of social reform were conspicuous and he exercized his influence in organizing the Society for the Prevention of Crime over which he presided for some years. His energies were also directed against the illegal liquor trade. As a scholar he was prominent among the American revisers of the New Testament and edited a new edition of the "_Oedipus Tyrannus_" of Sophocles. He died in 1891. CROSBY 1826-1891 THE PREPARED WORM[3] [3] Copyright, 1884, _The Homiletic Review_, New York. _But God prepared a worm when the morning rose the next day, and it smote the gourd that it withered._--Jonah iv., 7. Just when Jonah had felt the delight of the shadowing foliage and had begun to promise himself a most comfortable retreat against an Assyrian sun, the broad-leaved gourd withered. The morning had arrived and the heat was becoming more intense, when the glad shelter was removed, and the prophet's head was smitten with the scorching rays. "It is better for me to die than live," exclaimed the fainting Jonah. And what caused this calamity? A worm. And is that all? No! God prepared the worm. The worm was under orders from heaven, and while he, doubtless, ate into the gourd, with a good appetite, following the bent of his natural constitution, nevertheless he was acting in direct obedience to God. God prepared the worm. And yet in the sixth verse we read that God prepared the gourd. This is the record. "And the Lord God prepared a gourd and made it to come up over Jonah, that it might be a shadow over his head, to deliver him from his grief. So Jonah was exceedingly glad of the gourd." And then follows immediately: "But God prepared a worm, when the morning rose the next day, and he smote the gourd that it withered." Does God, then, build up in order to destroy? And does He give comfort to His creatures in order to torment them by its removal? So reasons the carnal heart, ready to complain, and looking on all God's conduct in its superficial aspect, its own selfish and sensuous advantage being the criterion of all its judgments. It is an easy counsel of Satan, when we are fainting by a withered gourd. "Curse God and die," the selfish soul is all ripe for such advice,--desperation is more inviting than faith. And there are but few Jobs who can resist the appeal to discontent and anger, in the face of Satan and wife combined, for when the natural depravity of our own hearts is supported by the entreaties of our nearest and dearest friends, hell's heaviest engine is brought against us. "I do well to be angry, even unto death," is the usual style in which we greet the afflictive providence of God. But a faith like Job's, that learns the lesson which the sorrow teaches, is rewarded, as was Job's, by the presence and communion of God, and by a satisfaction with His holy and righteous will. Let us endeavor to understand some of the facts connected with our afflictions, as disclosed by the Word of God, in order that we may be prepared to follow Job rather than Jonah. I. In the first place, God is the author of affliction. "Affliction cometh not forth out of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground." God asserts most positively in His Word, that all the losses in the world are sent by Him. He calls them chastisements from His fatherly hand. "I make peace and create evil," saith the Lord. This is not evil in the sense of wickedness. God does not create wickedness--but it is evil in the sense of affliction and trouble, the opposite of peace in the contrasted clause, "I make peace and create evil." That is, God is the author equally of prosperity and adversity to His creatures. If it were not so, we should have to imagine certain powers in God's universe not subject to His almighty control, which would be an absurdity. "Shall there be evil in a city and the Lord hath not done it?" It is in this sense of God's hand in adversity that the psalmist cries, "Thou, O God, hast proved us: thou hast tried us as silver is tried; thou broughtest us into the net, thou laidest affliction upon our loins"; and again, "Thy wrath lieth hard upon me, and thou hast afflicted me with all thy waves." God may send affliction by permitting Satan to afflict, but still God is the author of the affliction. He could prevent it, but He permits it. Indeed, it is, perhaps, true that all our losses and injuries in this world are Satan's inflictions, that this ever-active spirit of evil is constantly using the agencies of the natural world for our harm and destruction, and we are preserved simply by the interposing and restraining providence of God. When Satan wished to afflict Job, he sought and gained permission of the Lord. Job's calamities were clearly Satan's blows, and yet Job addresses God, "Why hast thou set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden to myself?" So, again, the diseased woman, who heard our Savior's healing words on the Sabbath day and was cured, is described by the same divine Physician (whose diagnosis cannot be questioned) as one whom Satan had bound for eighteen years. Under such examples, I cannot believe we err in attributing all our sicknesses and pains of body to the permitted agency of our arch-adversary. They are tokens of his power over our race, for he is the prince of this world, and it is only in God that we find protection from his cruel scepter. God suffers us to feel his inflictions in order to remove our affections from the world and to place them more devotedly upon our Heavenly Father. God is thus most truly the author of affliction, whatever may be the agencies He uses in the course of His providence. II. He uses the natural laws of the world as His agents in afflicting. These laws may be thus used permissively by Satan in other ways than in sickness or not, but the text shows us clearly that God so uses them. "God prepared a worm." There is a world of instruction in that brief statement. It infinitely transcends the science of the naturalist. Bring the most learned explorers of nature together to this gourd of Jonah, and show them this little worm creeping toward the thick stalk. Let them see it move its many feet and flexible body till it reaches the goal of its instinct. Now it uses its gnawing jaws upon the woody fibre; deeper and deeper it pierces the stem; now it reaches the innermost pith, and again returns upon its course. The current of the gourd's life is marred; the leaves droop, and its shelter is gone. Now, ye scientific men, what made that gourd wither? Hear them philosophize. Yon worm is a caterpillar, whose appropriate food is the _ricinus communis_, this very gourd with its palmate leaves and red-tinted flower. The worm has merely followed the impulses of its nature in seeking that tree-like plant, and the equally natural result of its feeding upon the stalk has been the failure of the tree's nourishment, and with the failure the foliage has, of course, withered. Well, is that all science can say? Yes, all. It is little more than that a horse is a horse. It explains nothing but the most proximate causes. It classifies facts, and then leaves us gaping into the abyss of causation as ignorant as ever. Four words from the Bible carry us back to the ultimate cause, the first mover in this gourd's withering. Science talks of laws, but these four words go behind all laws to the Maker of laws, to Him in whose hands are all things. "God prepared a worm." What! says science; drag God in to explain anything? Nay, God drags all in to effect His plans. He has made all things, however great, however small, for Himself. And these things which you call laws are only the methods of His activity, and these methods He has formed for the very ends which He accomplishes by them. The worm which crawls to Jonah's gourd was created by God to destroy that plant, and the law of that worm's movement was ordained for that destruction, as well as for all else which it accomplishes. The mind is satisfied when it finds a mind, a purpose, a plan in every event which it observes, and the pious heart is rejoiced to know that it is a Father's mind and purpose and plan which directs every movement, even to the crawling of a worm. "God prepared a gourd--God prepared a worm"; no accident brought the gourd there; no accident brought the worm there. God stood in a like relation to both. He sent the gourd, through nature, to comfort Jonah. He sent the worm, through nature, to trouble Jonah. Nature is a forlorn object to study unless we find it a mirror to reflect God. It is only as we see it, the result of His handiwork and His instrument in governing His creatures, that nature has a glory. Then it is ennobled; then it has a meaning that no mere naturalist can fathom, but which renders valuable the researches of science with its classifications. III. God is just in afflicting us. If we look at God simply as the Maker and Owner of His creatures, we could easily deduce His right to afflict. "Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own?" says the Creator; and he must be a daring soul who disputes the force of this question. "Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, 'Why hast thou made me thus?'" But we are not left to this view of God's right to afflict. God has entered into covenant with us. He has said, "Do ye according to my commandments, and ye shall live." This was the purport of His very first communication to our race in Adam. It treated of obedience and reward, of disobedience and punishment. And what is the record of our race since? Have we obeyed or have we disobeyed? Is there the slightest claim in us for the reward? Is there not the most complete demand for the punishment? What sin in the whole catalog of sin has been omitted by man? Enmity to man and God, pride, ingratitude, and rebellion have marked the history of mankind. And are you and I exceptions? Look at our years of worldliness, years of sinful affections, years of opposition to the Word and Spirit, years of selfishness, and then let us confess our full participation in the general depravity. We are unclean in our natures and by practise, and so, under the covenant which our Maker was pleased to form for us, we can only deserve punishment. Do we then complain in affliction? Surely, if God would be just in casting us down to hell for our rebellion and disobedience, He is just in laying upon us our earthly afflictions. Shall the Jonah, who ran away from the Lord's commandment, and afterward flung His anger in the face of His God, shall such an one feel that God is unjust in preparing a worm to destroy his gourd? By what arithmetic is such a balance cast? It becomes us, rather, to take up the words of David and cry, "I acknowledge my transgression; and my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned and done this evil in thy sight, that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest." IV. God afflicts us in His love. With all Jonah's sins against God, it was not to punish him that God prepared a worm. God is long-suffering and withholds punishment in His desire that all men may come to repentance. If punishment were God's aim in affliction, our afflictions would be infinitely greater than they are, for punishment would be apportioned to desert, and our desert is eternal condemnation; God's aim in affliction is our restoration, our improvement. By it He shakes us off from our dependence upon a world which, however it might please us for the moment, would cheat us sadly in the end. By it He reminds us of Himself as our source of strength and happiness, and then brings us to the unfailing fountain of peace, which our earthly prosperity would hide from our eyes. By it He teaches us to aspire to higher spiritual attainment, to grow in grace, to cultivate a more heavenly disposition of mind and heart. These are the uses of adversity. Christians who have come through scenes of trial, and whose thankful declaration is, "It was good for me to be afflicted," certify to these blest results. They tell us that they believe nothing else but the severe losses they sustained could have freed them from the fascinations of the world--nothing else could have made holy things so delightful to their soul. Now, such an experience is not the result of God's anger but of God's love. However harsh the voice of God may seem to us, it is yet a Father's voice, with a Father's heart behind it. It is, therefore, meant not to drive us away to seek a hiding corner, but to bring us directly to Himself. The same love which sent the affliction will receive the afflicted. God prepares gourds, and God prepares worms; and He uses each to build up faith and holiness in the human heart. In earnest seeking after God, in complete consecration to His holy will and service, is to be found the surest avoidance of the worm. If we can learn our lesson without the worm, the worm will not be sent to gnaw our gourd to ruins. The nearer our life to Jesus the more free shall we be from the sting of affliction. Had Jonah been an obedient and submissive prophet his gourd would not have withered. But alas! Jonah and ourselves need correction to keep our faces heavenward. Forgetfulness and indulgence plant their weeds in our Lord's garden, and they must be rooted up by force. It is for our own good, and it is infinite love which decrees it. Now note some inferences from the subject under consideration. First. If God afflicts, how foolish it is to go to the world for relief? Is the world greater than God? We may be sure that any comfort the world can give, as against God's affliction, must be dangerous. It is a contest with God, which God may allow to be successful, but only for the greater condemnation thereafter. The world's relief is not a cure but an opiate. It stupefies, but does not give health and strength. The world's relief is a temporary application--a lull before a fiercer storm. The world's relief is a determination not to heed the lesson God sends us; it is the invention of frivolity, and not the device of wisdom. More slumber, more pleasure, and more worldly care are three favorite medicaments the world uses in these cases--anodynes which only weaken the system and prepare it for more fearful suffering. God wishes to awaken the mind by affliction, and man immediately prescribes a narcotic. The great Physician brings the affliction for our good; we turn to quackery to destroy the effects of the divine medicine. Ah! the day is coming when God shall appear as no longer our Savior but our Judge, if this be our treatment of His love. "Because I have called and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand and no man regarded; but ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof; I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh; when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind." Secondly. If God prepares worms, then worms at once form an interesting study for us. We cannot see a caterpillar upon the leaf, but we know God has a mission for that worm. He is an ambassador of the Most High on his way to perform his Master's will. The headache, which unfits us for our ordinary occupation, is more than a headache. It is the voice of our God. Let us listen to the next headache and hear what God would have us learn. Every bird and beast, every raindrop and sunbeam, every breath of wind, and every event, however small, are the writings of a heavenly scribe. Let us study God's providence. It is all a message of love to us. We shall find out infinitely more in this study than in deciphering the hieroglyphics of Egypt. We shall find correction, expostulation, comfort, encouragement and instruction; and the more we look, the more we shall see. We shall become adepts in the high art of interpreting the acts of God toward us, and in this, as in prayer, hold constant communion with our divine Redeemer. Thirdly. When our gourds wither it is a proof that God is near. We should be ready to say with Jacob, "Surely the Lord is in this place." Prayer and humiliation are now our appropriate exercises. God has put forth His hand to summon us to these duties. Our gourd is gone, but our God is not gone, He can protect far better than a gourd. He will more than make up all our losses. Let us go to Him, and our dark night will make the day-dawn more brilliant. My dying fellow-sinner, do not, I beseech you, grow angry under God's severe dispensations. You do not well to be angry. God is near you with a blessing in His hand for you. He has a lesson for you to learn which will make you wise unto salvation. Say, will you learn it? If not, God is near you to condemn you. Oh! dread the alternative, and be wise to say in your heart, "Blest be my God and Father, who prepared the worm to destroy my broad-leaved gourd!" DALE THE ARGUMENT FROM EXPERIENCE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Robert William Dale was born in London, England, in 1829 and died in 1895. His long and fruitful ministry was confined to Birmingham, where he preached with great power. He believed, as he once said, that if a minister had anything from God to say to his fellow men, they would gladly come to hear him. He favored extemporaneous preaching, was a devoted student of English style, and advocated in his Yale lectures a more thorough attention to this important subject. He said: "There is no reason why, when you have at your service the noblest language for an orator that was ever spoken by the human race, you should be satisfied with the threadbare phrases, the tawdry, tarnished finery, the patched and ragged garments, with the smell like that of the stock of a second-hand clothes shop, with which half-educated and ambitious declaimers are content to cover the nakedness of their thought. You can do something better than this, and you should resolve to do it." DALE 1829-1895 THE ARGUMENT FROM EXPERIENCE[4] [4] Reprinted by permission of Messrs. A. C. Armstrong & Son. There are large numbers of people who suppose that modern science and modern criticism have destroyed the foundations of faith, and who can not understand how it is possible, in these days, for intelligent, open-minded, educated men to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. There are many persons who are convinced that the ascertained conclusions of modern science and of modern criticism are destructive of the authority which has been attributed both to the Jewish and the Christian Scriptures, that the traditional opinions concerning the authorship and the dates of many of the books of the Old Testament are false; and that most of the writings contained in the New Testament are spurious. Or, if some of the extreme conclusions of the destructive criticism are not regarded as finally established, it is known that great names can be quoted for, as well as against, them. And as it is assumed that the Jewish and the Christian Scriptures are the foundations of Christian faith, that we must believe in the genuineness and historical trustworthiness of these ancient books, and even in their inspiration, before we can believe in Christ, they argue that, until these discussions are finally closed in favor of the traditional opinions, faith in Christ is impossible. The controversies have not, in any large number of cases, destroyed faith where faith already existed; but where faith does not exist, they appear to very many persons to create an insuperable obstacle to faith. To such persons, if they are serious and well informed, there is something perplexing in the persistency of the faith of the great majority of Christian believers. Among those who remain Christian there are men whose intellectual vigor, patience, and keenness are equal to their own; men who are their equals in general intellectual culture, and who know as much as they know about the currents of modern thought; candid men; men who are incorruptible in their loyalty to truth; men who have a due sense of the immense importance, in relation to the higher life of the human race, of the questions at issue: How is it that the faith in Christ of such men is unshaken? The substance of the answer that I make here to the question, why it is that those who believe in Christ continue to believe, may be given in a single sentence: Whatever may have been the original grounds of their faith, their faith has been verified in their own personal experience. They have trusted in Christ for certain great and wonderful things, and they have received great and wonderful things. They have not perhaps received precisely what they expected when their Christian life began, for the kingdom of heaven cannot be really known until a man has entered into it; but what they have received assures them that Christ is alive, that He is within reach, and that He is the Savior and Lord of men. That they have received these blessings in answer to their faith in Christ is a matter of personal consciousness. They know it, as they know that fire burns. Their experience varies. Some of them would say they can recall acts of Christ in which His personal volition and His supernatural power were as definitely manifested as in any of the miracles recorded in the four Gospels. They were struggling unsuccessfully with some evil temper--with envy, jealousy, personal ambition--and could not subdue it. They hated it; they hated themselves for being under its tyranny; but expel it they could not. If it seemed supprest for a time, it returned; and returned with its malignant power increased rather than diminished. They scourged themselves with scorpions for yielding to it; still they yielded. In their despair they appealed to Christ; and in a moment the evil fires were quenched, and they were never rekindled. These instantaneous deliverances are perhaps exceptional; but to those who can recall them they carry an irresistible conviction that the living Christ has heard their cry and answered them. The more ordinary experiences of the Christian life, tho less striking, are not less conclusive. The proof that Christ has heard prayer is not always concentrated into a moment, but is more commonly spread over large tracts of time. Prayer is offered for an increase of moral strength in resisting temptation, or for the disappearance of reluctance in the discharge of duties which are distasteful, or for a more gracious and kindly temper, or for patience and courage in bearing trouble, or for self-control, or for relief from exhausting and fruitless anxiety; and the answer comes. It comes gradually, but still it comes. We had lost hope. It seemed as if all our moral vigor was dying down, and as if nothing could restore it. The tide was slowly ebbing, and we were powerless to recall the retreating waters; but after we prayed it ceased to ebb; for a time it seemed stationary; then it began to flow; and tho with many of us it has never reached the flood, the wholesome waters have renewed the energy and the joy of life. Or we prayed to Christ to liberate us from some evil habit. The chains did not fall away at His touch, like the chains of Peter at the touch of the angel; but in some mysterious way they were loosened, and at the same time we received accessions of strength. The old habit continued to trouble us; it still impeded our movements: but we could move; we recovered some measure of freedom, and were conscious that we were slaves no longer. There still remained a mechanical and automatic tendency to the evil ways of thinking, speaking, or acting; but we had become vigilant and alert, and were prompt to resist the tendency as soon as it began to work; and we were strong enough to master it. In the course of time the tendency became weaker and weaker, and at last, in some cases, it almost disappeared. Some men have appealed to Christ when they have been seized with a great horror through the discovery of their guilt. It was not the awful penalty which menaces the impenitent that haunted and terrified them. Nor was their distress occasioned chiefly by the consciousness of moral evil. They feared the penalty, and they were humiliated and shamed by the contrast between ideal goodness and their own moral and spiritual life; but what stung and tortured them, sunk them into despair, filled heaven and earth with a darkness that could be felt, and made life intolerable, was their guilt--guilt which they had incurred by their past sins, and which they continued to incur by their present sinfulness. When once this sense of guilt fastens itself on a man, he cannot shake it off at will. The keen agony may gradually pass into a dull, dead pain; and after a time, the sensibility of the soul may seem to be wholly lost; but a man can never be sure that the horror will not return. The real nature of this experience is best seen when it has been occasioned by the grosser and more violent forms of crime. Men who have committed murder, for example, have been driven almost insane by the memory of their evil deed. Their agony may have had nothing in it of the nature of repentance; they were not distrest because their crime had revealed to them the malignity and the fierce strength of their passions; they had no desire to become gentle and kindly. They were filled with horror and remorse by their awful guilt. They felt that the crime was theirs, and would always continue to be theirs; that it would be theirs if it remained concealed as truly as if it were known; indeed, it seemed to be in some terrible way more truly theirs so long as the secret was kept. It was not the fear of punishment that convulsed them; they have sometimes brought on themselves public indignation and abhorrence, and have condemned themselves to the gallows by confessing their crime in order to obtain relief from their agony. Suppose that a man possest by this great horror discovered that, in some wonderful way, the dark and damning stain on his conscience had disappeared; that, altho he had done the deed, the iron chain which bound him to the criminality of it had been broken; that before God and man and his own conscience he was free from the guilt of it;--the supposition, in its completeness, is an impossible one; but if it were possible, the discovery would lift the man out of the darkness of hell into the light of heaven. But to large numbers of Christian men a discovery which in substance is identical with this has actually come in response to their trust in Christ. Nothing is more intensely real than the sense of guilt; it is as real as the eternal distinction between right and wrong in which it is rooted. And nothing is more intensely real than the sense of release from guilt which comes from the discovery and assurance of the remission of sins. The evil things which a man has done cannot be undone; but when they have been forgiven through Christ, the iron chain which so bound him to them as to make the guilt of them eternally his has been broken; before God and his own conscience he is no longer guilty of them. This is the Christian mystery of justification, which, according to Paul--and his words have been confirmed in the experience of millions of Christian men--is "the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth." It changes darkness into light; despair into victorious hope; prostration into buoyancy and vigor. It is one of the supreme motives to Christian living, and it makes Christian living possible. The man who has received this great deliverance is no longer a convict, painfully observing all prison rules with the hope of shortening his sentence, but a child in the home of God. There are experiences of another kind by which the faith of Christian men is verified. Of these one of the most decisive and most wonderful is the consciousness that through Christ he has passed into the eternal and divine order. He belongs to two worlds. He is just as certain that he is environed by things unseen and eternal as that he is environed by things seen and temporal. In the power of the life given to him in the new birth he has entered into the kingdom of God. He is conscious that that diviner region is now the native land of his soul. It is there that he finds perfect rest and perfect freedom. It is a relief to escape to its eternal peace and glory from the agitations and vicissitudes, the sorrows and successes, of this transitory world. It is not always that he is vividly conscious of belonging to that eternal order; this supreme blessedness is reserved for the great hours of life; but he knows that it lies about him always, and that at any moment the great Apocalypse may come. And even when it is hidden, its "powers" continue to act upon him, as the light and heat of the sun pass through the clouds by which the burning splendor is softened and concealed. Further, "in Christ" Christian men know God; they know Him for themselves. The mere conception of God is as different from the immediate knowledge of Him as the mere conception of the Matterhorn from the actual vision of it as an external objective grandeur; and it is not the conception of God, but God Himself, that fills them with awe and wonder, and with a blessedness which trembles into devout fear. Sometimes the "exceeding weight of glory" is too great to bear, and human infirmity is relieved when the vision passes. At other times God is more than a transcendent glory to be contemplated and adored. His infinite love, to use Paul's words, is shed abroad in their hearts, like the sun's heat under tropical heavens; it is immediately revealed. How, they can not tell, any more than they can tell how the material world is revealed to sense; they only know that, apart from any self-originated effort, apart from any movement of their own towards Him, the eternal Spirit draws near to their spirit and reveals God's love to them. It is as if the warm streams of the love which have their fountains in the depths of His infinite life were flowing round them and into them. They are conscious of that love for them of which God is conscious. And this blessedness is not the prerogative of elect saints, or of those who may be said to have a natural genius for spiritual thought. It is the common inheritance of all that are "in Christ," altho there is reason to fear that many Christian people rarely reach the height of its joy. But among those who reach it are men of every degree of intellectual rank and every variety of moral and spiritual temperament. It is reached by ignorant men, whose thoughts are narrow and whose minds are inert, as well as by men with large knowledge and great powers of speculation; by men destitute of imagination, as well as by men whose imagination kindles as soon as it is touched by the splendors of nature or by the verses of poets. Men whose life moves slowly and sluggishly reach it, as well as men who are impulsive, ardent, and adventurous. And where this experience is known, it becomes an effective force in the moral life. Peter, writing to slaves, says, "For this is acceptable, if through consciousness of God a man endureth griefs, suffering wrongfully." I have said that "in Christ" men know God--not merely through Christ. It is true that during His earthly ministry He revealed God; so that, in answer to the prayer of one of His disciples, "Show us the Father, and it sufficeth us," He said, "Have I been so long time with you, and dost thou not know me, Philip? he that hath seen me hath seen the Father." That revelation has eternal power and value; but there are other words spoken by Christ that same night which suggest that it is not merely by the revelation of God during His earthly ministry that Christ has made it possible for men to know the Father. He said: "I am the true vine, and ye are the branches.... Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; so neither can ye, except ye abide in me. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same beareth much fruit: for apart from me ye can do nothing." It is not certain that when Paul wrote his Epistle to the Galatian Christians he had heard of these words; but what they meant he had learnt for himself. He said, "I live: and yet no longer I, but Christ liveth in me." In various measures the experience of Paul has been the experience of Christian men ever since. Their relationship to Christ--their conscious relationship to Christ--has been most mysterious, but most intimate and most certain. They have meditated on the infinite love which moved Him to descend from the heights of God and to become man, upon His graciousness and gentleness, His purity, His spontaneous goodness, His pity for suffering, His merciful words to the sinful, His patience and His long-suffering, and His fiery indignation against hypocrisy; they have meditated on His teaching, on all the words of His that have been preserved concerning the love and grace of God, concerning the remission of sins, the gift of eternal life, the judgment to come, the eternal blessedness of the righteous, and the doom of the lost; they have felt the spell and the charm of that ideal perfection to which He calls them in His precepts, and which He illustrated and transcended in His own character: but they have been conscious that it was not merely by the power of the great and pathetic story of His earthly history, or by the power of His spiritual and ethical teaching, that He gives to men the life of God, and constantly renews, sustains, and augments it. They shared the very life of their Lord. He lived in them. They lived in Him. And it was in the power of this common life that they knew God. Nor is it only the immediate knowledge of God that is rendered possible by this union with Christ. Christian men are conscious that they do not receive strength from Christ for common duty, as they might receive strength from One who, while He conferred the grace, stood apart from them, but that in some wonderful way they are strong in the strength of Christ Himself. They are too often drawn down into the region of baser forces, and then they fall; but their very failure verifies the truth of their happier experiences, for it brings home to them afresh what they are apart from Christ; and when they recover their union with Him--which indeed had not been lost, tho for a time it was not realized--they recover their power. The man who has had, and who still has, such experiences as these will listen with great tranquillity to criticisms which are intended to shake the historical credit of the four Gospels, altho the story they contain may have been the original ground of his faith in Christ. The criticism may be vigorous; he may be wholly unable to answer it: but what then? Is he to cease to believe in Christ? Why should he? Let me answer these questions by an illustration. Towards the close of our Lord's ministry, when He was in the neighborhood of Jericho--just leaving the city or just entering it--Bartimeus, a blind man, who was begging at the side of the road, heard that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by, and He appealed to the great Prophet to have mercy upon him. Jesus answered his appeal, and gave him sight. Now it is possible that Bartimeus may have been told by some passing traveler, of whom he knew nothing, the story of a similar miracle which Jesus had worked a few weeks before in Jerusalem, and this may have been the ground, and the only ground, of his confidence in our Lord's supernatural power. If, after he had received his sight, some sagacious friend of his had asked him how it was that he came to believe that the Nazarene Teacher could give sight to the blind, nothing would have been easier than for his friend to show that, whether the story of the Jerusalem miracle was true or not, Bartimeus had no trustworthy evidence of its truth. A tale told by an unknown stranger! This was no sufficient reason for believing that Jesus had given sight to a man born blind. Did the stranger who told the tale know the beggar who was said to have been cured? Was it certain that the man was blind? Had the stranger examined his eyes the very morning of the day on which he received sight? Was it certain that the vision was not gradually returning? Was the stranger present when Jesus made the clay, and put it on the blind man's eyes; close enough to see that no delicate operation was performed during the process? The sending of the blind man to wash at the Pool of Siloam was suspicious: what could that washing have to do with a miracle? Did the stranger go with the man to the pool, and keep his eye upon him while he was there? Was it quite certain that the blind beggar who was sent to Siloam was the man who came back to the city and declared that Jesus had healed him? Might not one man have been sent to the pool, and another man have come back to Jerusalem? It looked very much as if there were some previous understanding between the blind man and the Nazarene Prophet. The Prophet had rich friends; they could have made it worth the man's while to come into the plot. Had Bartimeus considered all these difficulties? Was it not more probable that the stranger's story should be false than that the miracle should be true? Would it not be well for Bartimeus to suspend his faith in Jesus until he had made further inquiries about the miracle? We can imagine the answer of Bartimeus. I think that he would have said: "At first I believed in the power of Jesus of Nazareth, because I was told that He had given sight to another blind man; now I am sure of His power, because He has given sight to me. It is possible, as you say, that the story about the blind man in Jerusalem is not true. You have asked me many questions which I can not answer. I can not explain why he should have been sent to the Pool of Siloam. I acknowledge that the evidence which I have for the miracle is not decisive. As Jesus has restored my sight, I think that the story is probably true; but whether the story is true or not can not disturb my faith in Him, for if He did not heal the other man, He has healed me." And so the faith in the living Christ of those who have had the great experiences of His power and grace which I have described is not shaken by any assaults on the historical trustworthiness of the story of His earthly ministry. Much less can it be shaken by discussions concerning the nature and origin of the ancient Scriptures of the Jewish people. Their confidence in the books, both of the Old Testament and the New, may perhaps have to be suspended until the controversies of scholars are closed, or until, on historical and critical grounds, they can see their own way to firm and definite conclusions about the main questions at issue; but not their confidence in Christ. They may be uncertain about the books; they are sure about Him. Both Christian scholars and the commonalty of Christian people approach the controversies on these ancient records with a settled faith in the power and grace and glory of Christ. Their faith in Him rests on foundations which lie far beyond the reach of scientific and historical criticism. They know for themselves that Christ is the Savior of men: for they have received through Him the remission of their own sins; He has translated them into the divine kingdom; He has given them strength for righteousness, and through Him they have found God. LIDDON INFLUENCES OF THE HOLY SPIRIT BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Henry Parry Liddon was born at North Stoneham, Hampshire, in 1829. His intellectual power and fearless and earnest preaching attracted immense congregations to St. Paul's Cathedral, London. He sought to meet the speculative fallacies of his day by truth clearly and boldly proclaimed. Probably his greatest fault in delivery was that he tied himself slavishly to a manuscript in all his preaching. There was a force and intensity to his delivery, however, that often projected his words towards his hearers like great projectiles across a battlefield. Dr. Arthur S. Hoyt recommends him for study in these words: "Canon Liddon brings the riches of exegesis and theology and philosophy to the pulpit, and gives to the sermon the distinction of his refined and spiritual personality." He died in 1890. LIDDON 1829-1890 INFLUENCES OF THE HOLY SPIRIT _The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth._--John iii., 8. Who has not felt the contrast, the almost tragic contrast, between the high station of the Jewish doctor, member of the Sanhedrin, master in Israel, and the ignorance of elementary religious truth, as we Christians must deem it, which he displayed in this interview with our blest Lord? At first sight it seems difficult to understand how our Lord could have used the simile in the text when conversing with an educated and thoughtful man, well conversed in the history and literature of God's ancient people; and, indeed, a negative criticism has availed itself of this and of some other features in the narrative, in the interest of the theory that Nicodemus was only a fictitious type of the higher classes in Jewish society, as they were pictured to itself by the imagination of the fourth Evangelist. Such a supposition, opposed to external facts and to all internal probabilities, would hardly have been entertained, if the critical ingenuity of its author had been seconded by any spiritual experience. Nicodemus is very far from being a caricature; and our Lord's method here, as elsewhere, is to lead on from familiar phrases and the well-remembered letter to the spirit and realities of religion. The Jewish schools were acquainted with the expression "a new creature"; but it had long since become a mere shred of official rhetoric. As applied to a Jewish proselyte, it scarcely meant more than a change in the outward relations of religious life. Our Lord told Nicodemus that every man who would see the kingdom of God which He was founding must undergo a second birth; and Nicodemus, who had been accustomed to the phrase all his life, could not understand it if it was to be supposed to mean anything real. "How," he asks, "can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother's womb, and be born?" Our Lord does not extricate him from this blundering literalism; He repeats His own original assertion, but in terms which more fully express His meaning: "Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he can not enter into the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again." Our Lord's reference to water would not have been unintelligible to Nicodemus; every one in Judæa knew that the Baptist had insisted on immersion in water as a symbol of the purification of the soul of man. Certainly, in connecting "water" with the Spirit and the new birth, our Lord's language, glancing at that of the prophet, went very far beyond this. He could only be fully understood at a later time, when the sacrament of baptism had been instituted, just as the true sense of His early allusions to His death could not have been apprehended until after the crucifixion. But Nicodemus, it is plain, had not yet advanced beyond his original difficulty; he could not conceive how any second birth was possible, without altogether violating the course of nature. And our Lord penetrates His thoughts and answers them. He answers them by pointing to that invisible agent who could achieve, in the sphere of spiritual and mental life, what the Jewish doctor deemed so impossible a feat as a second birth. Nature, indeed, contained no force that could compass such a result; but nature in this, as in other matters, was a shadow of something beyond itself. It was late at night when our Lord had this interview with the Jewish teacher. At the pauses in conversation, we may conjecture, they heard the wind without as it moaned along the narrow streets of Jerusalem; and our Lord, as was His wont, took His creature into His service--the service of spiritual truth. The wind was a figure of the Spirit. Our Lord would not have used the same word for both. The wind might teach Nicodemus something of the action of Him who is the real Author of the new birth of man. And it would do this in two ways more especially. On a first survey of nature, the wind arrests man's attention, as an unseen agent which seems to be moving with entire freedom. "The wind bloweth where it listeth." It is fettered by none of those conditions which confine the swiftest bodies that traverse the surface of the earth; it sweeps on as if independent of law, rushing hither and thither, as tho obeying its own wayward and momentary impulse. Thus it is an apt figure of a self-determining invisible force; and of a force which is at times of overmastering power. Sometimes, indeed, its breath is so gentle, that only a single leaf or blade of grass will at distant intervals seem to give the faintest token of its action; yet, even thus, it "bloweth where it listeth." Sometimes it bursts upon the earth with destructive violence; nothing can resist its onslaught; the most solid buildings give way; the stoutest trees bend before it; whatever is frail and delicate can only escape by the completeness of its submission. Thus, too, it "bloweth where it listeth." Beyond anything else that strikes upon the senses of man, it is suggestive of free supersensuous power; it is an appropriate symbol of an irruption of the invisible into the world of sense, of the action, so tender or so imperious, of the divine and eternal Spirit upon the human soul. But the wind is also an agent about whose proceedings we really know almost nothing. "Thou hearest the sound thereof"; such is our Lord's concession to man's claim to knowledge. "Thou canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth"; such is the reserve which He makes in respect of human ignorance. Certainly we do more than hear the sound of the wind; its presence is obvious to three of the senses. We feel the chill or the fury of the blast; and, as it sweeps across the ocean, or the forest, or the field of corn, we see how the blades rise and fall in graceful curves, and the trees bend, and the waters sink and swell into waves which are the measure of its strength. But our Lord says, "Thou hearest the sound thereof." He would have us test it by the most spiritual of the senses. It whispers, or it moans, or it roars as it passes us; it has a pathos all its own. Yet what do we really know about it? "Thou canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth." Does the wind then obey no rule; is it a mere symbol of unfettered caprice? Surely not. If, as the psalmist sings, "God bringeth the winds out of his treasuries," He acts, we may be sure, here as always, whether in nature or in grace, by some law, which his own perfections impose upon His action. He may have given to us of these later times to see a very little deeper beneath the surface of the natural world than was the case with our fathers. Perchance we explain the immediate antecedents of the phenomenon; but can we explain our own explanation? The frontier of our ignorance is removed one stage farther back; but "the way of the wind" is as fitting an expression for the mysteries now as it was in the days of Solomon. We know that there is no cave of �olus. We know that the wind is the creature of that great Master who works everywhere and incessantly by rule. But, as the wind still sweeps by us who call ourselves the children of an age of knowledge, and we endeavor to give our fullest answer to the question, "Whence it cometh, and whither it goeth?" we discover that, as the symbol of a spiritual force, of whose presence we are conscious, while we are unable to determine, with moderate confidence, either the secret principle or the range of its action, the wind is as full of meaning still as in the days of Nicodemus. When our Lord has thus pointed to the freedom and the mysteriousness of the wind, He adds, "So is every one that is born of the Spirit." The simile itself would have led us to expect--"So is the Spirit of God." The man born of the Spirit would answer not to the wind itself, but to the sensible effect of the wind. There is a break of correspondence between the simile and its application. The simile directs attention to the divine Author of the new birth in man. The words which follow direct attention to the human subject upon whom the divine agent works. Something similar is observable when our Lord compares the kingdom of heaven to a merchantman seeking goodly pearls; the kingdom really corresponds not to the merchantman, but to the pearl of great price which the merchantman buys. In such cases, we may be sure, the natural correspondence between a simile and its application is not disturbed without a motive. And the reason for this disturbance is presumably that the simile is not adequate to the full purpose of the speaker, who is anxious to teach some larger truth than its obvious application would suggest. In the case before us, we may be allowed to suppose, that by His reference to the wind our Lord desired to convey something more than the real but mysterious agency of the Holy Spirit in the new birth of man. His language seems designed, not merely to correct the materialistic narrowness of the Jewish doctor, not merely to answer by anticipation the doubts of later days as to the spiritual efficacy of His own sacrament of regeneration, but to picture, in words which should be read to the end of time, the general work of that divine person whose mission of mercy to our race was at once the consequence and the completion of His own. It may be useful to trace the import of our Lord's simile in three fields of the action of the holy and eternal Spirit; His creation of a sacred literature, His guidance of a divine society, and His work upon individual souls. I. As, then, we turn over the pages of the Bible, must we not say, "The wind of heaven bloweth where it listeth"? If we might reverently imagine ourselves scheming beforehand what kind of a book the Book of God ought to be, how different would it be from the actual Bible. There would be as many bibles as there are souls, and they would differ as widely. But in one thing, amid all their differences, they would probably agree; they would lack the variety, both in form and substance, of the holy Book which the Church of God places in the hands of her children. The self-assertion, the scepticism, and the fastidiousness of our day would meet like the men of the second Roman triumvirate on that island in the Reno, and would draw up their lists of proscription. One would condemn the poetry of Scripture as too inexact; another its history as too largely secular; another its metaphysics as too transcendental, or as hostile to some fanciful ideal of "simplicity," or as likely to quench a purely moral enthusiasm. The archaic history of the Pentateuch, or the sterner side of the ethics of the psalter, or the supernaturalism of the histories of Elijah or of Daniel, or the so-called pessimism of Ecclesiastes, or the alleged secularism of Esther, or the literal import of the Song of Solomon, would be in turn condemned. Nor could the apostles hope to escape: St. John would be too mystical in this estimate; St. James too legal in that; St. Paul too dialectical, or too metaphysical, or too easily capable of an antinomian interpretation; St. Peter too undecided, as if balancing between St. Paul and St. James. Our new Bible would probably be uniform, narrow, symmetrical; it would be entirely made up of poetry, or of history, or of formal propositions, or of philosophical speculation, or of lists of moral maxims; it would be modeled after the type of some current writer on English history, or some popular poet or metaphysician, or some sentimentalist who abjures history and philosophy alike on principle, or some composer of well-intentioned religious tracts for general circulation. The inspirations of heaven would be taken in hand, and instead of a wind blowing where it listeth, we should have a wind, no doubt, of some kind, rustling earnestly enough along some very narrow crevices or channels, in obedience to the directions of some one form of human prejudice, or passion, or fear, or hope. The Bible is like nature in its immense, its exhaustless variety; like nature, it reflects all the higher moods of the human soul, because it does much more; because it brings us face to face with the infinity of the divine life. In the Bible the wind of heaven pays scant heed to our anticipations or our prejudices; it "bloweth where it listeth." It breathes not only in the divine charities of the gospels, not only in the lyrical sallies of the epistles, not only in the great announcements scattered here and there in Holy Scripture of the magnificence, or the compassion, or the benevolence of God; but also in the stern language of the prophets, in the warnings and lessons of the historical books, in the revelations of divine justice and of human responsibility which abound in either Testament. "Where it listeth." Not only where our sense of literary beauty is stimulated, as in St. Paul's picture of charity, by lines which have taken captive the imagination of the world, not only where feeling and conscience echo the verdict of authority and the promptings of reverence, but also where this is not the case; where neither precept nor example stimulates us, and we are left face to face with historical or ethical material, which appears to us to inspire no spiritual enthusiasm, or which is highly suggestive of critical difficulty. Let us be patient; we shall understand, if we will only wait, how these features of the Bible too are integral parts of a living whole; here, as elsewhere, the Spirit breathes; in the genealogies of the Chronicles as in the last discourse in St. John, though with an admitted difference of manner and degree. He "bloweth where He listeth." The apostle's words respecting the Old Testament are true of the New: "All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness." And, "Whatsoever things were written aforetime were written for our learning, that we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope." "But thou hearest the sound thereof, and canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth." The majesty of Scripture is recognized by man, wherever there is, I will not say a spiritual faculty, but a natural sense of beauty. The "sound" of the wind is perceived by the trained ear, by the literary taste, by the refinement, by the humanity of every generation of educated men. But what beyond? What of its spiritual source, its spiritual drift and purpose, its half-concealed but profound unities, its subtle but imperious relations to conscience? Of these things, so precious to Christians, a purely literary appreciation of Scripture is generally ignorant; the sacred Book, like the prophet of the Chebar, is only "as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument." Or again, the "sound thereof" is heard in the admitted empire of the Bible over millions of hearts and consciences; an empire the evidences of which strike upon the ear in countless ways, and which is far too wide and too secure to be affected by the criticisms that might occasionally seem to threaten it. What is the secret of this influence of Scripture? Not simply that it is the Book of Revelation; since it contains a great deal of matter which lay fairly within the reach of man's natural faculties. The Word or eternal Reason of God is the Revealer; but Scripture, whether it is a record of divine revelations or of naturally observed facts, is, in the belief of the Christian Church, throughout "inspired" by the Spirit. Inspiration is the word which describes the presence and action of the Holy Spirit everywhere in Scripture. We know not how our own spirits, hour by hour, are acted upon by the eternal Spirit, though we do not question the fact; we content ourselves with recognizing what we can not explain. If we believe that Scripture is inspired, we know that it is instinct with the presence of Him whose voice we might hear in every utterance, but of whom we cannot tell whence He cometh or whither He goeth. II. The history of the Church of Christ from the days of the apostles has been a history of spiritual movements. Doubtless it has been a history of much else; the Church has been the scene of human passions, human speculations, human errors. But traversing these, He by whom the whole body of the Church is governed and sanctified, has made His presence felt, not only in the perpetual proclamation and elucidation of truth, not only in the silent, never-ceasing sanctification of souls, but also in great upheavals of spiritual life, by which the conscience of Christians has been quickened, or their hold upon the truths of redemption and grace made more intelligent and serious, or their lives and practise restored to something like the ideal of the Gospels. Even in the apostolic age it was necessary to warn Christians that it was high time to awake out of sleep; that the night of life was far spent, and the day of eternity was at hand. And ever since, from generation to generation, there has been a succession of efforts within the Church to realize more worthily the truth of the Christian creed, or the ideal of the Christian life. These revivals have been inspired or led by devoted men who have represented the highest conscience of Christendom in their day. They may be traced along the line of Christian history; the Spirit living in the Church has by them attested His presence and His will; and has recalled lukewarm generations, paralyzed by indifference or degraded by indulgence, to the true spirit and level of Christian faith and life. In such movements there is often what seems, at first sight, an element of caprice. They appear to contemporaries to be onesided, exaggerated, narrow, fanatical. They are often denounced with a passionate fervor which is so out of proportion to the reality as to border on the grotesque. They are said to exact too much of us, or to concede too much. They are too contemplative in their tendency to be sufficiently practical, or too energetically practical to do justice to religious thought. They are too exclusively literary and academical, as being the work of men of books; or they are too popular and insensible to philosophical considerations, as being the work of men of the people. Or, again, they are so occupied with controversy as to forget the claims of devotion, or so engaged in leading souls to a devout life as to forget the unwelcome but real necessities of controversy. They are intent on particular moral improvements so exclusively as to forget what is due to reverence and order; or they are so bent upon rescuing the Church from chronic slovenliness and indecency in public worship as to do less than justice to the paramount interests of moral truth. Sometimes these movements are all feeling; sometimes they are all thought; sometimes they are, as it seems, all outward energy. In one age they produce a literature like that of the fourth and fifth centuries; in another they found orders of men devoted to preaching or to works of mercy, as in the twelfth; in another they enter the lists, as in the thirteenth century, with a hostile philosophy; in another they attempt a much-needed reformation of the Church; in another they pour upon the heathen world a flood of light and warmth from the heart of Christendom. It is easy, as we survey them, to say that something else was needed; or that what was done could have been done better or more completely; or that, had we been there, we should not have been guilty of this onesidedness, or of that exaggeration. We forget, perhaps, who really was there, and whose work it is, though often overlaid and thwarted by human weakness and human passion, that we are really criticizing. If it was seemingly onesided, excessive or defective, impulsive or sluggish, speculative or practical, esthetic or experimental, may not this have been so because in His judgment, who breatheth where He listeth, this particular characteristic was needed for the Church of that day? All that contemporaries know of such movements is "the sound thereof"; the names with which they are associated, the controversies which they precipitate, the hostilities which they rouse or allay, as the case may be. Such knowledge is superficial enough; of the profound spiritual causes which really engender them, of the direction in which they are really moving, of the influence which they are destined permanently to exert upon souls, men know little or nothing. The accidental symptom is mistaken for the essential characteristic; the momentary expression of feeling for the inalienable conviction of certain truth. The day may come, perhaps, when more will be known; when practise and motive, accident and substance, the lasting and the transient, will be seen in their true relative proportions; but for the time this can hardly be. He is passing by, whose way is in the sea, and His paths in the deep waters, and His footsteps unknown. The Eternal Spirit is passing; and men can only say, "He bloweth where He listeth." III. Our Lord's words apply especially to Christian character. There are some effects of the living power of the Holy Spirit which are invariable. When He dwells with a Christian soul, He continually speaks in the voice of conscience; He speaks in the voice of prayer. He produces with the ease of a natural process, without effort, without the taint of self-consciousness, "love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." Some of these graces must be found where He makes His home. There is no mistaking the atmosphere of His presence: in its main features it is the same now as in the days of the apostles. Just as in natural morality the main elements of "goodness" do not change; so in religious life, spirituality is, amid great varieties of detail, yet, in its leading constituent features, the same thing from one generation to another. But in the life of the individual Christian, or in that of the Church, there is legitimate room for irregular and exceptional forms of activity or excellence. Natural society is not strengthened by the stern repression of all that is peculiar in individual thought or practise; and this is not less true of spiritual or religious society. From the first, high forms of Christian excellence have often been associated with unconscious eccentricity. The eccentricity must be unconscious, because consciousness of eccentricity at once reduces it to a form of vanity which is entirely inconsistent with Christian excellence. How many excellent Christians have been eccentric, deviating more or less from the conventional type of goodness which has been recognized by contemporary religious opinion. They pass away, and when they are gone men do justice to their characters; but while they are still with us how hard do many of us find it to remember that there may be a higher reason for their peculiarities than we think. We know not the full purpose of each saintly life in the designs of Providence; we know not much of the depths and heights whence it draws its inspirations; we can not tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth. Only we know that He whose workmanship it is bloweth where He listeth; and this naturally leads us to remark the practical interpretation which the Holy Spirit often puts upon our Lord's words by selecting as His chosen workmen those who seem to be least fitted by nature for such high service. The apostle has told us how in the first age He set Himself to defeat human anticipations. "Not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called"; learned academies, powerful connections, gentle blood did little enough for the gospel in the days when it won its first and greatest victories. The Holy Spirit, as Nicodemus knew, passed by the varied learning and high station of the Sanhedrin, and breathed where He listed on the peasants of Galilee; He breathed on them a power which would shake the world. And thus has it been again and again in the generations which have followed. When the great Aquinas was a student of philosophy under Albertus Magnus at Cologne, he was known among his contemporaries as "the dumb Ox"; so little did they divine what was to be his place in the theology of Western Christendom. And to those of us who can look back upon the memories of this University for a quarter of a century or more, few things appear more remarkable than the surprizes which the later lives of men constantly afford; sometimes it is a failure of early natural promise, but more often a rich development of intellectual and practical capacity where there had seemed to be no promise at all. We can remember, perhaps, some dull quiet man who seemed to be without a ray of genius, or, stranger still, without anything interesting or marked in character, but who now exerts, and most legitimately, the widest influence for good, and whose name is repeated by thousands with grateful respect. Or we can call to mind another whose whole mind was given to what was frivolous, or even degrading, and who now is a leader in everything that elevates and improves his fellows. The secret of these transfigurations is ever the same. In those days these men did not yet see their way; they were like travelers through the woods at night, when the sky is hidden and all things seem to be other than they are. Since then the sun has risen and all has changed. The creed of the Church of Christ, in its beauty and its power, has been flashed by the Divine Spirit upon their hearts and understandings; and they are other men. They have seen that there is something worth living for in earnest; that God, the soul, the future, are immense realities, compared with which all else is tame and insignificant. They have learned something of that personal love of our crucified Lord, which is itself a moral and religious force of the highest order, and which has carried them forwards without their knowing it. And what has been will assuredly repeat itself. W. M. TAYLOR CHRIST BEFORE PILATE--PILATE BEFORE CHRIST BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE William Mackergo Taylor, Congregational divine, was born at Kilmarnock, Scotland, in 1829. He was for many years pastor of the Broadway Tabernacle, New York. He had an impressive presence and his delivery was marked by a magnetic earnestness. During the first ten years of his ministry he spoke memoriter, but subsequently wrote out his sermons with detailed care and preached them from manuscript, but their delivery was without the freedom and freshness of extemporaneous address. He came to regret this, for he said: "If I might speak from my own experience I would say, that memoriter preaching is the method which has the greatest advantages, with the fewest disadvantages." He died in 1895. W. M. TAYLOR 1829-1895 CHRIST BEFORE PILATE--PILATE BEFORE CHRIST[5] [5] Reprinted by permission from "Contrary Winds and other Sermons," by William M. Taylor, D.D., copyrighted, 1883, by A. C. Armstrong & Son. _Pilate saith unto them, What shall I do, then, with Jesus, which is called Christ?_--Matthew xxvii., 22. During my late visit to my native land I had the great enjoyment of seeing, and somewhat carefully studying, Munkacsy's famous picture of "Christ Before Pilate." Rarely, if ever, had I been so much moved by a work of art; and I propose to give, as nearly as I can recall it, the sermon which it reached to me as I sat silently contemplating the figures, which, even as I looked at them, seemed to grow before me into life. But, first, I must try to describe to you the picture itself. The canvas is large, and the figures, all of which are on the line of sight, are of life size. The scene is in the pavement or open court before the governor's palace, which was called in the Hebrew tongue Gabbatha, and in which, after all his efforts to wriggle out of the responsibility of dealing with the case, Pilate ultimately gave up Jesus to be crucified. At one end of the court, on a raised bench, and drest in a white toga, Pilate sits. On either side of him are Jews, each of whom has a marked and special individuality. The two on his left are gazing with intense eagerness at Christ. They are evidently puzzled, and know not well what to make of the mysterious prisoner. On his right, standing on one of the seats, and with his back against the wall, is a Scribe, whose countenance is expressive of uttermost contempt, and just in front of this haughty fellow are some Pharisees, one of whom is on his feet, and passionately urging that Jesus should be put to death, presumably on the ground that, if Pilate should let Him go, he would make it evident that he was not Cæsar's friend. Before them again is a usurer, sleek, fat and self-satisfied, clearly taking great comfort to himself in the assurance that, however the matter may be settled, his well-filled money-bags will be undisturbed. Beyond him stands the Christ in a robe of seamless white, and with His wrists firmly bound; while behind, kept in place by a Roman soldier, standing with his back to the spectator, and making a barricade with his spear, which he holds horizontally, is a motley group of onlookers, not unlike that which we may still see any day in one of our criminal courts. Of these, one more furious than the rest is wildly gesticulating, and crying, as we may judge from his whole attitude, "Crucify Him! crucify Him!" and another, a little to the Savior's left, but in the second row behind Him, is leaning forward with mockery in his leering look, and making almost as if he would spit upon the saintly one. There is but one really compassionate face in the crowd, and that is a face of a woman who, with an infant in her arms, most fitly represents those gentle daughters of Jerusalem who followed Jesus to Calvary with tears. Then, over the heads of the on-lookers, and out of the upper part of the doorway into the court, we get a glimpse of the quiet light of the morning as it sleeps upon the walls and turrets of the adjacent buildings. All these figures are so distinctly seen that you feel you could recognize them again if you met them anywhere; and a strange sense of reality comes upon you as you look at them, so that you forget that they are only painted, and imagine that you are gazing on living and breathing men. But, as you sit awhile and look on, you gradually lose all consciousness of the presence of the mere on-lookers and find your interest concentrated on these two white-robed ones, as if they were the only figures before you. The pose of Christ is admirable. It is repose blended with dignity; self-possession rising into majesty. There is no agitation or confusion; no fear or misgiving; but, instead, the calm nobleness of Him who has just been saying, "Thou couldst have no power at all against me, except it were given thee from above; therefore he that delivered me unto thee hath the greater sin." The face alone disappoints. Perhaps that may be owing to the lofty ideal we have of the divine Man, so that no picture of our Lord would entirely please. But tho the painter has wisely abandoned the halo, and all similar conventionalisms of art, and has delineated a real man, for all which he is to be highly commended, yet the eyes which look so steadily at Pilate, as if they were looking him through, seem to me to be cold, keen, and condemnatory, rather than compassionate and sad. It is a conception of the Lord of the same sort as that of Doré, in his well-known picture of the leaving of the Prætorium, and the eyes have not in them that deep well of tenderness out of which came the tears which He shed over Jerusalem, and which we expect to see in them when He is looking at the hopeless struggle of a soul which will not accept His aid. It is said that the artist, dissatisfied with his first attempt, has painted the Christ face twice; but this, also, is a partial failure, and here, so at least it seemed to me as I looked upon it, is the one defect in his noble work. But if there is this defect, it is one which it shares with every other effort that human art has made to delineate the Lord. The Pilate, however, is well-nigh faultless. Here is a great, strong man, the representative of the mightiest empire the world has ever seen, with a head indicating intellectual force, and a face, especially in its lower part, suggestive of sensual indulgence. There is ordinarily no want of firmness in him, as we may see from the general set of his features; but now there is in his countenance a marvelous mixture of humiliation and irresolution. He cannot lift his eyes to meet the gaze of Christ; and while one of his hands is nervously clutching at his robe he is looking sadly into the other, whose fingers, even as we look at them, almost seem to twitch with perplexed irresolution. He is clearly pondering for himself the question which a few moments before he had addrest to the multitude, "What shall I do with Jesus which is called Christ?" He is annoyed that the case has been brought to him at all, and as he feels himself drifting on, against his own better judgment, toward yielding to the clamor of the multitude, he falls mightily in his own conceit, and begins to despise himself. He would, at that moment, give, oh, how much! to be rid of the responsibility of dealing with the Christ, but he cannot evade it; and so he sits there, drifting on to what he knows is a wrong decision, the very incarnation of the feeling which his own national poet described when he said, "I see and approve the better course; I follow the worse." Thus, as we look at these two, we begin to discover that it was not Christ that was before Pilate so much as Pilate was before Christ. His was the testing experience. His was the trial; his too, alas! was the degradation; and at that coming day when the places shall be reversed, when Christ shall be on the judgment seat, and Pilate at the bar, there will still be that deep self-condemnation which the painter here has fixt upon his countenance. It is a marvelous picture, in many respects the most remarkable I ever looked upon, and, even from this imperfect description of it, you will easily understand how, as I sat intent before it, it stirred my soul to the very depths. But now, with this portrayal of the scene before us let us see if we can account, first, for the hesitation of Pilate to give up the Lord, and then for his final yielding to the clamor of the people. Why all this reluctance on his part to send Jesus to the cross? He was not usually so scrupulous. A human life more or less gave him generally very little concern. He had all a Roman's indifference for the comfort of those who stood in any respect in his way; and had no compunction, as we know, in mingling the blood of certain turbulent Jews with the very sacrifices which at the moment they were offering. Had Christ been a Roman citizen, indeed, he would most likely have been very watchful over His safety, for in regard to all such the imperial law was peculiarly strict, but the life of a mere Jew was a very small thing in his estimation. Wherefore, then, this unwonted squeamishness of conscience? It was the result of a combination of particulars, each of which had a special force of its own, and the aggregate of which so wrought upon his mind that he was brought thereby to a stand. There was, in the first place, the peculiar character of the prisoner. A very slight examination had been sufficient to convince him that Christ was innocent of the charge which had been brought against Him. But in the course of that examination much more than the innocence of Christ had come to view. He had manifested a dignified patience altogether unlike anything that Pilate had ever seen; and His answers to certain questions had been so strangely suggestive of something higher and nobler than even the most exalted earthly philosophy that he could not look upon Him as a common prisoner. He was no mere fanatic; neither was He after the pattern of any existing school, whether Jewish, Greek, or Roman. There was about Him an "other-worldliness" which brought those near Him into close proximity, for the time, with the unseen; and an elevation which lifted Him above the tumult that was howling for His destruction. Probably Pilate could not have described it to himself, but there was something which he felt unusual and exceptional in this man, marking Him out from every other he ever had before him, and constraining him to take a special interest in His case. Add to this that his wife had sent to him that singular message--"Have thou nothing to do with that just man, for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him,"--a message which, in those days of mingled scepticism and superstition--for the two always go hand in hand--must have produced a deep impression on his mind. Moreover, there seemed some fatality about the case. He had tried to roll it over upon Herod, but that wily monarch sent the prisoner back upon his hands. He had attempted to release Him, as the Passover prisoner for the year, but neither was there any outlet for him in that, for the people had preferred Barabbas. And so the responsibility had come again to his own door, and could not be passed on to another. Still again, he saw that the Jews were acting most hypocritically in the matter. It was a new thing for them to be zealous for the honor of Cæsar, and he could easily see through the mask they wore into the envy and malice which were the motives for their conduct. The deeper he went into the case he discovered only the more reason for resisting their importunity, and, however, he looked at it, his plain duty was to set the prisoner free. Why then, again we ask, was his perplexity? The answer is suggested by the taunt of the Jews, "If thou let this man go thou art not Cæsar's friend; whosoever maketh himself a king speaketh against Cæsar." He foresaw that if he resisted the will of the rulers he would make them his enemies, and so provoke them to complain of him to the emperor, who would then institute an inquiry into the administration of his office--and that he was not prepared to face. He had done things as a governor which would not bear the light, and so at the crisis of his life he was fettered by deeds of the past from doing that which he felt to be the duty of the present. You may, perhaps, remember that expression of the prophet, which thus reads in the margin: "Their doings will not suffer them to turn unto their God": and that other, which affirms, concerning Israel: "Their own doings have beset them about." Now these descriptions most accurately define the cause of Pilate's perplexity here. His conduct in the past had been such that he had not the courage to take any course which might lead to an investigation of that. If he could deliver Christ without provoking that, then he would most cheerfully do so; but if by delivering Christ he would provoke that, then Christ must be given up to the cross. Hence his perplexity at the first, and hence, also, his yielding in the end. His past misdeeds had put him virtually into the power of those who were now so eager for the condemnation of the Christ. On three several occasions his arbitrariness had been such as all but to instigate a rebellion among the people, and his cruelty and contempt for justice, when he had a personal end to gain, were sure, upon appeal to the emperor, to be severely punished; so to save himself from banishment and disgrace, if not even death, he delivered over Jesus to the will of the Jews. He wished to do right in this case more than ever he had wished before; there was something about it which in his view made it more important that he should do right now than ever before; but through all his past official life he had, by his enormities and oppressions, been unconsciously weaving round himself a net, in the meshes of which he was now inextricably caught. His guilty conscience made him a coward at the very time when most of all he wanted to be brave. He had come to his "narrow place," where he could turn neither to the right hand nor to the left, but must face the naked alternative "yes" or "no"; and he fell because in his former life, when he was thinking of no such ordeal, he had sold himself by his evil deeds into the power of the enemy. Now, what a lesson there is in all this for us! Men think that they may live for the time being as they please, and that at a convenient venient season they can repent and turn to God. But the present is conditioning the future, and making it either possible or the reverse for us to do right in the future. He who neglects the laws of health every day, and lives in intemperance and excess of all kinds, is only making it absolutely certain that when fever lays him low he will die, for he has eaten out the strength of his constitution by his follies. And, in the same way, he who sets all morality at defiance in his ordinary conduct only makes it inevitable that when his convenient season does come, when his time of privilege and testing does arrive, he will fail to rise to the occasion, and be swept away into perdition. The tenor of our ordinary life determines how we shall pass through exceptional and crucial occasions, therefore let us bring that up to the highest level by doing everything as unto God, and then we shall be ready for any emergency. Nor let me forget to add here, that in spite of all his efforts to keep back investigation, Pilate's day of reckoning with the emperor did come. The Jews complained of him after all, in spite of his yielding to them now; and as the result he was banished, and afterwards, so tradition says, he committed suicide. Thus the ordeal and the disgrace came, notwithstanding all he did to avert them, and he had not under them the solace which he might have enjoyed if only he had stood firm on this great and memorable occasion. Therefore let us all, and especially the young, take to ourselves, as the first lesson from this deeply interesting history, that we should be careful not to hamper ourselves for the discharge of duty in the future by guilt of the present. By our conduct now we are either coiling cords around us which shall hold us fast at the very time when we most desire to be free, or we are forming and fostering a strength of character which, through God, will triumph over every temptation. If "to be weak is to be miserable," it is no less true that to be guilty is to be weak. Preserve yourselves, therefore, from this danger, and seek above all other things to keep your consciences clean; then when you will need all your strength for a crisis, you will not sit, like Pilate here, in nervous perplexity bemoaning your helplessness even while you yield to the adversary; but you will shake the temptation from you with as much ease as the eagle shakes the dewdrop from his wing. Keep yourselves pure: so shall your youth be full of happiness, and you shall go forth out of it with no encumbering past to clog the wheels of your endeavor. How happy he whose youth thus leaves him with a smile and sends him forth upon the duties of manhood with a benediction! But he, how miserable! whose early years heap bitter maledictions on his head, and push him forward into active life with a conscience already laden with guilt, and a soul as weak before temptation as a reed is before the wind. But while there is thus in this history a lesson for all time, I think Munkacsy, by the appearance of his wondrous picture now, has made it evident that there is also something in it specially adapted to these modern days. It is with artists in the choice of their subjects as it is with ministers in the selection of their themes. Both alike, consciously and unconsciously, and most frequently perhaps unconsciously, are affected by the spirit of their age. The atmosphere--literary, moral, political, and religious--which is round about them, and which they are daily breathing, does, insensibly to themselves, so influence them that their thoughts are turned by it into a channel different from that in which those of a former generation flowed. Hence, whether the painter would admit it or not, I see in this picture, at this juncture, at once a mirror of the times and a lesson for them. The question of Pilate, "What shall I do, then, with Jesus which is called the Christ?" is preeminently the question of the present age. No doubt we may say with truth that it has been the question of all the Christian centuries, and each one of them has faced it and solved it after its own fashion. It has tested the centuries even as it tested Pilate, and those in which Christ was rejected have been the darkest in the world's history; while those in which He has been hailed as the incarnate God have been the brightest which the earth has ever seen, because irradiated with truth, and justice, and benevolence and purity. But tho we are always prone to exaggerate that in the midst of which we are ourselves, it seems to me that in no one age since that of the primitive Church has this jesting question been so prominent as in our own. All the controversies of our times, social, philosophical, and theological, lead up to and find their ultimate hinge in the answer to this inquiry, "Who is this Jesus Christ?" If He be a mere man, then there is for us nothing but uncertainty on any subject, outside of the domain of the exact sciences; and we must all become agnostics, holding this one negative article of belief, that nothing can be known about anything save that of which we can take cognizance with the bodily sense. But if He be incarnate God, then He brings with Him from heaven the final word on all subjects concerning which He has spoken; and tho in His person He is the mystery of mysteries, yet, at once received, He becomes forthwith the solution of all mysteries, and faith in Him is at once the satisfaction of the intellect and the repose of the heart. It is perfectly natural, therefore, that all the controversies of the day should turn on Him. The lives of Christ which have been written during the last thirty or forty years would make in themselves a very respectable library; and the cry even of the sceptic is, "I could get on very well with unbelief, if I only knew what to make of Christ." Yes, that is just the difficulty. Christ is here in the Scriptures a character portrayed in literature; He was in the world for thirty-three years, and lived a life exceptional in every respect, but most of all in the moral and spiritual departments, so that of Him alone perfection can be predicated; He has been ever since a most potent factor in history, for through His influence all that is pure, and noble, and exalted, and lovely and of good report, has come into our civilization. Now, these things have to be accounted for. If He was only a man, how shall we explain them? And if He was more than a man shall we not take His own testimony as to His dignity and mission? If we are to be unbelievers, we must account for Christ on natural principles; but if we cannot do that, then we must conceive Him as He claims to be conceived. There is no alternative. Those in the age who have the spirit and disposition of Pilate will anew reject Him! but those who are sincere and earnest in their inquiries will come ultimately out into the light, for "if any man be willing to do his will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God." And what is true of the age, as a whole, is true also of every individual to whom the gospel is proclaimed. For each of us, my hearers, this is the question of questions, "What shall I do with Jesus which is called Christ?" Shall I reject Him and live precisely as if I had never heard His name? or shall I accept Him as the Lord from heaven in human nature, trust in Him as my Savior, and obey Him as my King? I must do the one or the other; and yet how many are seeking, like Pilate, to evade the question? They try to escape the responsibility of dealing with it as a direct alternative of yes or no. But as one has well said, "necessity is laid upon us. The adversaries of Christ press upon us to give our verdict against Him. We are troubled and perplexed, for we have long heard about Him, and have had each of us his own convictions. We would still remain neutral. We try--and try in vain--to escape from the spirit, the conversation, the literature, the question of the times. Again and again we wash our hands. But neither our silence nor our actions are of any avail; and so we are found sitting, conscious of the presence and the claims of our Savior, and, like Pilate, not daring to look at Him, as we puzzle over the answer which we must give to the question that is being forced upon us--Who is this Jesus Christ?" Perhaps this description accurately portrays some one here this morning. If so, let me give him one parting word. It is this: You can not evade the decision, but be sure that you look at the Christ before you give Him up. Nothing is so remarkable in the picture to which I have so often this day referred as the evident persistency with which Pilate keeps his eyes from Christ; and few things are so saddening as to meet with men who profess to have, and really have, difficulties about Christ, but who have never read the gospels or the New Testament with any attention. Let me urge you earnestly, therefore, to study these gospels and epistles before you give your voice against the Lord, and I am very sure that if you ponder them thoroughly you will soon accept Him. Give over trying to solve all the difficulties and so-called discrepancies in the Scriptures which form the stock-in-trade of the infidel lecturer--all these are but as dust which he raises that he may blind your eyes to the really important question, "Who is Christ?" Settle that, and if you do, all other difficulties will vanish. Turn your face to the light, and the shadow will fall behind you. Look at the Christ before you give Him up. And remember, if you do reject Christ, you have still to account for Him. It is unreasonable for you, if you believe only in the natural and material, to leave such a phenomenon as Christ unexplained. Yes, and I must add here that if you reject Him you must yet account to Him. Go, then, and ponder this text; yea, may it continue sounding in your inmost heart until you have determined to receive and rest upon Him as your only Savior, and say to Him, like Thomas, "My Lord and my God." JOHN HALL LIBERTY ONLY IN TRUTH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Hall was born at Market Hill, County Armagh, Ireland, in 1829. For many years he was pastor of the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, New York, where he had a large and devoted following. He was of fine physique, and there was a power in face and voice that at once commanded his audience. He spoke without manuscript, and his style was marked by great sincerity, directness and earnestness. He died in 1899. JOHN HALL 1829-1899 LIBERTY ONLY IN TRUTH _And I will walk at liberty, for I seek thy precepts._--Psalms cxix., 45. God is the Governor of this world. Some one may say, that is a very elementary truth. Even so; there have been long ages in the history of our race when that truth was not accepted and when the most intelligent of our race believed something directly opposed. There have been multitudes of men, for example, who believed, like Aristotle, that matter is eternal. There are multitudes still who believe that in some way or other nature governs itself. There is a large class of thinkers who, without taking the name to themselves, are practically pantheists, and, like Spinoza and Fichte and Hegel, persuade themselves that all is God, as they express it, and that God is all. You do not need to be told that the earlier portion of the Old Testament Scriptures God has given to us that we might have these illusions banished, and that we might be made to know that God is the Creator and the Ruler of all things, that He is not nature, and nature is not God; that He is not to be confounded with the works of His hands; that He is a distinct, personal and holy Being, who has created all, and who has a right, on the ground of creation, even if there were no other, to be the Ruler of all. It took long to make men understand this truth, simple and elementary as it seems to you and to me. When we say that God governs the globe, we do not mean the mere earthly, solid structure on which we dwell. We mean that He governs the inhabitants of it, the communities and the individuals. "The Lord reigneth, let the earth rejoice." "The Lord reigneth, let the nations tremble." "He raiseth up kings and he putteth them down." He calls into being Pharaohs that He may show His power and His glory in relation to them. His providence is most holy and wise and powerful, and it is not general merely, it is particular, extending to all the creatures and to all their actions. These things we have to keep in mind in relation to Jehovah. Now it would seem, surely, that if a man believed this his common sense would dictate to him that, living in a world that God had made and God rules in every detail, if he wishes to be happy in it, he must have respect to the law of Him who has made and who rules. Common sense indicates that if we live in a house it is desirable to be on good terms with the head of the house if we wish to be comfortable. Common sense dictates that if a man is in the employment of others, it is wise for him to have a right understanding, to stand well with the head of the department in which he is engaged. Common sense teaches us that if we are subjects in a kingdom and wish to be safe and happy, we must respect the laws by which the kingdom is ruled. And we have only to extend this principle, and we get to the point that was before the Psalmist's mind when he says: "I will walk at liberty, for I seek (or, as it is in the revision, without changing the meaning, 'I have sought') thy statutes." I am living in Thy world, I am dependent upon Thee, I have taken pains to know what Thy will is, that I may do it; and so I walk at liberty. That is the idea that is brought to us in the text, and it is easy for you to see how good and practical that idea is. But the question may arise, can we know the precepts and the statutes that God has given to us? You do not need to be told that that is within our reach. God has spoken to us in this revelation, as He did speak less articulately in the works of His hands, and in the instincts and convictions that He produced in our spirit. We have His revelation in our hands. We can seek the knowledge of it. In many instances well-meaning and right-minded boys, under great difficulties, have sought education that they may get on in this world. In many other cases boys have had education at their very doors, and have never sought it, and consequently have been of little account in the world. Now the difference is not great, in this aspect of it, between ordinary secular education and the spiritual education of which the text gives us an illustration. Here are God's statutes and precepts put within our reach. We can search them, seek them, know them and do them, by the grace that God is willing to give, or we can push them aside, ignore and disregard them, and take our own way, and the result will be absolute and everlasting failure in our lives. We can not have this too solemnly fixt in our thoughts. God has spoken to us. What shall we do with His word? Shall we neglect it and pass it by, or shall we take it, study it, seek it, as the verse expresses it, and make it the rule of our lives? Jesus Christ has come down from heaven to live among us, and has said to our race, "Come unto me and learn of me"; and there are millions to whom this message has come and they disregard and ignore it; they do not come to Him, they do not learn of Him. Can we wonder if the Judge should say to them when they appear at His seat, "I never knew you"? If you read the First Epistle to the Thessalonians, you will see pictures of an angry God, as an avenging fire, in the apostle's description. On whom does the fire fall? On whom does the Judge show his indignation? Is it upon the misers and the miscreants and the murderers of the race merely? Oh, no. It is upon them that "know not God and obey not the gospel of his Son." Is it any wonder that the sacred writer should say, "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth"; not merely remember that there is a God--remember thy Creator, who made thee and in whose hand thy fortunes are. Remember in the days of thy youth, the formative days, the days when character is being shaped. What is well begun is half ended. The life that is well begun, in this way has a guaranty of usefulness and success. The life that is not begun in this way has a dark and gloomy prospect before it. Remember thy Creator. We all know well what is meant when some one says to us, on going away from our homes, "Don't forget your home, don't forget your mother." We know what that means. And God's messenger speaks to us in the same tone when he makes this appeal: Remember thy Creator; remember His power, remember His will, remember His statutes, seek His precepts, and by doing this thou wilt be able to walk at liberty. You may have mere liberty, and not light and not the liberty of God. You may combine liberty with means, with power, and with a certain degree of prosperity; you may combine it with equality and with fraternity, and yet not have the true enlightenment. True enlightenment comes in the way, indicated in the text, by the seeking of God's precepts, the knowing of God's statutes, and this you and I need to keep in mind. "What is liberty?" once asked Burke. "What is liberty without wisdom and without virtue? Such liberty is the greatest of all possible evils, for it is vice and folly and madness, without tuition and without restraint." Mere liberty without other forces working in the sphere that it opens up, is only another name for license. "Give me liberty or give me death," said Patrick Henry--not because he felt the need of enlightenment. He had been enlightened by the teaching of an intelligent Scottish father, by the preaching of the splendid sermons of Samuel Davies, and especially by the daily study, which he kept up to his dying day, of his Bible. He had been enlightened by these things. What he craved for himself and for his fellow men was open space in which, unhindered, other and mighty influences might tell upon his fellow men and make the country what, in the blessing of God, it has become. Settle this in your minds: Liberty is simply the freedom for other forces to act, and it is for you and me who are free, to see what these forces are, and we never can have any so good as those which the Psalmist speaks of when he says that he sought God's precepts, he studied God's statutes, that he might do them, and so walk at liberty. We want to walk at liberty. How can we do it? If we do not thus walk at liberty, there is only one alternative--stay in bondage and walk in bondage, moving about indeed, and apparently free, but with moral chains binding our natures and our whole being in bondage to the powers that will rejoice in our misery and ultimate ruin. It is to make men understand this that we have such institutions as we enjoy to-day. For this end church edifices are reared. For this end people are invited to come and be regularly in them and under their influence. For this end God has been pleased to give us the day of holy rest. For this purpose the ministry has been instituted. Our business is to make men seek and know God's precepts and statutes, that they may do them and that they may walk at liberty. "We ministers are for you; our business is to seek your moral and spiritual good, your full and complete liberation. Our business is to enlighten you with the truth as God has been pleased to reveal it unto us. You do not come to these churches for our sakes, to hear us. You do not give your money that we may be sustained and upheld. I tell you I would rather sweep the streets, I would rather carry bricks on my shoulder to the builder, than be a mere official person maintained because he can teach so much and get so many people to hear him. Brethren, it is that you may be enlightened and saved with the light of life, that God has brought us into the position in which we are now together. Keep this in your thoughts; and that you may be enlightened and free, look upward and not downward, nor around you. In that statue in our harbor, the light that will shine is light that comes, I suppose, from the heart of the earth; but the light that is to enlighten the world is the light of the sun, the Sun of Righteousness. See that you have that shining into your souls, that you may walk at liberty. Having looked at the former part of this text, namely, what the Psalmist did with a view to the end, we look at the end at which he was aiming. He studied God's Word, not simply that he might have so much intellectual knowledge. He studied it for practical uses. He studied God's precepts that he might obey them. I do not need to remind you that you and I have advantages greater than he had, in some important respects. He had the revelation in part; we have it in its completeness. He had the preparatory dispensation; we have the dispensation that fulfils the promises of the preparatory. He had the beginning; we have the complement. We know more than he did. He wrote these words, "I have sought thy precepts." He knew of the Paschal Lamb and of its typical significance; we know the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world. He knew the Hebrew priest and the general character of his functions. We know a High Priest who has passed into the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God. He knew of the altar and the victim, and the blood that made typical atonement; we know of the great sacrifice on the cross, bringing in a redemption that is complete and eternal. He knew of a Messiah that was to come. You, even children in the Sunday-school to-day, know of that Messiah risen, risen triumphant, risen a conqueror, risen for you, risen because He has finished the work God gave Him to do. If the Psalmist studied God's will that he might walk at liberty, how much greater is the obligation upon us to do the same, and how much greater our facilities and our encouragement. Let us try, then, to travel in the Psalmist's steps, and let us see some, not all, of the forms of liberty that we can have by compliance with the divine precepts. There is liberty, in the first place, from the world. I use the word now in the sense in which it is used so frequently in the Bible--not merely this round globe or the hundreds of millions that are upon it--not merely these millions in that capacity. The world lieth in the wicked one; the mass of men, that is, do not know God. They constitute the world of the New Testament; we can be in bondage to this world. Natural men are in bondage to it. They are not at liberty in relation to that natural world. It is without God; it does not ask what His will is. It enquires as to its own will, and it tries to enforce it. You sometimes see cliques and coteries and collections of men insisting at any cost upon carrying out their own will. This is only the spirit of the greater world of which they constitute a section. Sometimes men are in bondage to the world in this sense, and the mainspring of their life is to stand well with it, to do what their set, their society, the world round about them, wishes them to do. Sometimes the bondage is aggravated by another feature, viz., the effort to rise higher, to get upon a more elevated plane, to get into another set; and, oh, how aggravated is the bondage under which many thus live and labor! Freedom from that is obtained when we walk according to God's statutes. Believers, the world is not your master. One is your Master, even Christ, and we are brethren in Him, and He is reasonable and kind and just and brotherly, and you can walk with Him. His favor is enough for you, His smile satisfies you. Fellowship with Him is the best society. Let society stigmatize you, let it stamp its enmity upon you, but seek God's precepts. If you only have Christ walking with you, then you walk at liberty. But as to the life-work in which many are busy, or trying to get up a little higher socially, take this precept of the Word, "Godliness with contentment is great gain"; and these things, the godliness with the contentment, will break these clanking chains of insane and stupid ambition and will prepare you to walk at liberty. "I am in the place where God puts me. I am trying to do the work that God gives to me. I am responsible to Him. I belong to Him. He is my Father, Christ is my Brother, heaven is my home. This I believe on the authority of His word. I will walk at liberty." Let me commend that form of true freedom to you. There is liberty, in the second place, from bad ways. Do I need to describe these bad ways to you? You can not live in the city, you can not read the newspapers, you can not hear the gossip, you can not know what is going on in the circles in which you mingle, without knowing some of these bad ways. There is the lover of this world's possessions, so strongly denounced in Isaiah's prophecies: beginning, perhaps, with necessary saving, but coming slowly but steadily to a sordid love of the thing that is saved, till the whole spirit is mercenary, and gold is the deity that is practically worshiped. There is the drunkard, sipping a little innocently, as he thinks, at the beginning, then going a little farther, and secretly, until shame is lost and the victim is under the power of the drink--degraded, wretched, irresponsible, not ashamed of himself, for shame is gone, but an object for which all are ashamed that are connected with him. There is the gambler, beginning perhaps with what he deemed innocent recreation, and catching the spirit of the thing till it masters him, until he flings away all that he has, and all that he hopes to have, in the chance of recovering something already lost, till life is a burden and fortune is gone, and suicide is perhaps the tragical termination. These are specimens of the bad ways--marked specimens, I grant, but still simple specimens. There is freedom from this when we seek and do God's statutes--real freedom. We learn to walk circumspectly; we learn to keep the heart with all diligence; we learn to hate evil and to do good; we learn to flee from the snares that Satan sets for the feet of men. We walk securely, for we have been taught of the Spirit to walk with God. Make sure, dear hearers, that you have this liberty. There is liberty from bad memories--bad, putrid memories. When the corrupt imagination contemplates indulgences in sin, it often dwells upon these long before the actual execution of them, and as they linger in the mind they photograph themselves upon its surface, and they stay there. There may be compunction for the sin, there may be shame over it, there may be vows against it, there may be honest purposes to resist and overcome it, and these purposes to a good degree carried out; but the horrid, poisonous memories remain in the soul. You know what it is to be in a house where animal matter is decaying and poisoning fumes are being scattered up and down. Oh! the misery of the human mind that is haunted with the ghosts of bad deeds that have been done in the past. It is bondage of the keenest and sorest kind. There is liberty from these to those who walk in God's statutes, liberty that can be had nowhere else. "A new heart will I give you, and a right spirit will I put within you. I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh." Happy are they to whom this word was fulfilled in their early youth, and who in consequence were kept from the sins, the very recollection of which is sometimes like the beginning of hell. There is bondage to bad associates and bad associations. In how many instances, in thoughtlessness, inexperience, under the impulses of mere feeling, do men become entangled in connections that mar their lives and spoil all their happiness--make happiness practically impossible! I speak what I know, when I say that there are too many cases in which boys are practically ruined where they go as pupils to schools away from their parents' supervision, thrown into dependence, in some degree, upon those whom they call friends, and these friends bad, initiating them into ways and habits and modes of thinking and doing, for which they only want the liberty of later years that they may put them into practise, with disgrace, misery and ruin. Relief from this bondage, escape from it, these can be had when we seek God's statutes, when we walk according to His precepts. Wisdom's ways are pleasantness, and her paths are peace. There are no bad habits in them; there are no entangling associations in them; there are no corrupting and degrading influences in them. There is nothing in them that plays upon passion, till passion, once our idol and our sport, becomes our ruler and our cruel tyrant. To escape all these, this is the way: seek God's statutes, that you may know and do them, and you shall walk at liberty. BACON GOD INDWELLING BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE LEONARD WOOLSEY BACON, Congregational divine, born in New Haven, Conn., 1830. He was educated at Yale, from which university he graduated in 1850. He has filled the position of pastor in many important churches and has done much theological and literary work. Among other things he edited Luther's "Deutsche Geistliche Lieder" (New York, 1883), and wrote "History of American Christianity" (New York, 1897). BACON BORN IN 1830 GOD INDWELLING[6] [6] From "The Simplicity That Is in Christ," published by Funk & Wagnalls Company. _Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy: I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones._--Isaiah lvii., 15. Inhabiting eternity; yet making His abode within a broken heart! It seems as if we might apprehend either of these things singly; but both together--how can it be? The distresses, the wants, the fears, of life, make us long that indeed it were so. Our soul crieth out for God, for the living God. We cry; but there seems no answer; only an awful silence. We look upon the outward facts of life and death, and see the steady, unswerving march of law--the unbroken, irrefragable chain of causes and effects--never yielding nor bending to all our needs, to all our prayers. And God seems so far, so far away! We turn the pages of our knowledge from the physical to the metaphysical, and we come no nearer. Our philosophical, our theological, yes, our religious meditations upon the nature and attributes of the infinite One--the omniscient, the eternal, the unchangeable--set Him more and more beyond the reach of our fellowship and prayer. But all the time, one thing testifies to us of a heavenly Father that hears and loves and answers, and that is our ineradicable need. The cravings of our nature cannot be rebuked by scientific observation of the constancy of law, nor by philosophic meditation of the properties of absolute and infinite being. We need, we must have, a Father. Our heart and flesh, our soul, crieth out for the living God. In such a strait, there is true comfort in this word of the Lord by His prophet, in which the full measure of the difficulty is set forth, and the solution of it is found in faith. It has seemed to me that we need not seek in vain in the created works of God for helps to that faith by which we know that the infinite and eternal God can have fellowship with us and can dwell within the narrow precincts of a human heart. That sight in visible nature which gives to us the highest sense of vastness,--the aptest suggestion of infinity,--is doubtless the aspect of the starry heavens;--to all of us, ignorant or learned, poetic or unimaginative. It needs no diagrams nor distances from a book of astronomy to tell the lessons of the firmament. "Their sound is gone out into all the earth, and their words to the end of the world." And yet it is when we come to study the dimensions of this operation in detail, that the sense of its vastness grows upon us and overpowers us. David never could have felt, as we can feel, the force of his own words: When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, The moon and the stars which thou hast ordained, What is man that thou art mindful of him, And the son of man that thou visitest him! They are like the chariot of Ezekiel's vision, "so high that it was dreadful." It seems a fearful thing to have to do with such magnitudes; and when we hear of scholars in their observatories measuring the distances among the stars, it overcomes us with a giddy feeling, as when we see men clambering on church spires, or crossing the East River on a strand of wire. A row of figures on a slate does seem such a frail support on which to go marching through the starry spaces! We almost shudder when we see human science springing clear of the narrow boundaries of the earth, and on such attenuated threads of calculation venturing boldly forth to other planets, and thence over chasms of space so vast that it is easiest to call them infinite, until he reaches the fixt stars. No longer content with numbering and naming the host of heaven, and marshaling them in constellations, this tiny creature must take upon himself to scrutinize their constitution, must weigh their floating bulk, must "Speed his flight from star to star, From world to luminous world, as far As the universe rears his flaming wall," and, as if bearing in this amazing flight the measuring-rod which once the prophet saw in an angel's hand, must measure the paths along which the planets travel, and tell in human language the distances on the chart of heaven. And how human language staggers under the burden thus laid upon it! We begin with attempting to state the least of these distances in numbers of a unit of earthly distance, but, when we speak of some of our near neighbors in celestial space as being twenty trillions of English miles away, the words will not hold the meaning--they carry no conception to the mind. They are good to cipher with, but that is all they are good for. We try to invent a new form of speech, and for our unit we take the distance which a cannon-ball, if retaining the velocity with which it leaves the gun, would travel in twenty-four hours, and say that, at this rate of speed, it would take so many months, and years, and centuries, to reach such and such of the nearer stars. But this, too, is a clumsy failure; and we resort, at last, to the heavens themselves for a standard of measurement, and find it in the velocity of light. It shoots from the sun to the earth, a distance of ninety-two millions of miles, in eight minutes and seven seconds. And we attempt to represent the distance of certain of the stars by stating how many years, how many hundred years, how many thousand years, it takes a ray of their light to reach the earth. But it is all in vain. We commonly speak of imagination as outstripping, in its speed, the slow-paced reason; but here it is the reason that has outrun the imagination. From these unspeakable tracts of space, over which the reason of man has not hesitated to go, "Sounding along its dim and perilous way," the imagination shrinks back and refuses to follow. We know things which we cannot conceive. In presence of such stupendous magnitudes, "Imagination's utmost stretch In wonder dies away." We can only bow with awe in the presence of things which the calmest computations have revealed, and seizing the words kindled on the lips of inspiration, sing aloud in worship: "O Lord, how great are they works! In wisdom hast thou made them all!" I have shown you what is wonderful. Come now and I will show you what is more wonderful. For I will show you these infinite spaces of the sky, and the glory of them, and the innumerable host of starry worlds, gathered up in a moment of time, within the tiny pupil of a human eye. It is wonderful that the heavens and the host of them should be so great; but that, being so great, they should be able to become so infinitely little,--this passes all wonder. The shepherd stretched upon the ground amid his sheep gazes up into the starry depths, and finds them wonderful; but never thinks how far more wonderful than the heavens which he beholds is himself beholding them. As he lies gazing, long lines of light, from planet and star and constellation, come stretching on through the infinite void spaces, to center on the lenses of his drowsy eye. Side by side, and all at once, yet never twisted or confused, these ten thousand rays of different light enter the little aperture in the center of the eye which we call the pupil. There they cross, in a point which has no dimensions, and separate again, and paint in microscopic miniature upon the little surface of the retina, behind the eyeball, the inverted facsimile of the visible heavens. There, in the ante-chamber of the brain, marches Orion, with his shining baldric and his jeweled sword; there glow Arcturus and Sirius, and the steadfast North Star; there pass the planets to and fro; and the far-off nebulæ are painted there with suffused and gentle radiance--all the heavens and the glory of them gathered in that slender filament of light, threaded through that tiny aperture, painted by their own rays upon that little patch of nervous network, apprehended, felt, known through and through by that finite human mind. How far stranger and sublimer a thing is this than the mere bulk of the worlds, or the mere chasms of void space in which they hang weltering! By this sublime fact of God's visible creation, we are led on to apprehend and feel the sublimest of the glories of God Himself, set forth in the prophet's words,--that He whose lifetime is infinite duration, whose dwelling-place is infinite space,--He who before the earth and the world were made was no younger, neither will be older when they are all consumed,--whose presence reaches out to the farthest fixt star that eye or telescope has ever described floating upon the far verge of the universe, and occupies beyond in all the orbits of worlds yet undiscovered, and still beyond in the regions of space where is naught but the possibility of future worlds, and fills all this immensity to repletion,--that this "high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity" should enter into some poor, crusht and broken spirit, that trembles at the very whisper of His voice, and should make the narrow recesses of that heart His abode, His home. This is the mystery and glory of the Godhead,--not alone that He should be infinite, eternal, immortal, invisible, but that being all these, He should yet be apprehended by the little mind of a man, and call Himself that man's Friend and Comforter and Father. For it is not more evident that the tiny pupil of human eye can take in the expanses and abysses of the heavens, than it is that the little soul of man can receive into itself the infinite God. I. Man receives God into himself by the intellect. We trifle with the facts of our own consciousness, if we suffer the theological description of God as incomprehensible to divert us from the fact that our minds are made for nothing more expressly than for this, that they should receive God. The lowest rudiments of the knowledge of the simplest forms of matter are the beginnings of the knowledge of God. If we could remember, you and I, now that we are grown, all that came to us in infancy--the first struggles of the childish mind with the questions that we are not done with yet, we should see how soon the knowledge of God comes to the little one. Beyond the cradle in which it wakes up to the wonders of a new day is the nursery, and beyond the nursery is the house, and beyond the house is the garden, and beyond the garden there lies all the world, and beyond the world shuts down the sky with its stars, and beyond the sky--what? "Tell me, father--tell me, mother, what is there beyond the sky?" And, according to your knowledge or your ignorance, your faith or your unbelief, you may tell the little questioner of heaven, or of infinities of other worlds, or of infinite waste room and empty space, and he will believe you. But attempt to tell him that beyond is nothing, and not even room for anything, and will he believe you? He may seem to believe you, but it is impossible that he really should believe. The infant mind--any mind--rejects it as impossible. It cannot live in anything less than infinite space. It stifles. It leaps up and beats its wings against any bars with which you would cage it in, but that it will break through and take possession of its inheritance. And as with infinite extent, so with infinite duration. How well I remember, as a very little child, when men were talking of the end of the world, and the great comet stretched amain across the sky, and men's hearts were failing them for fear, how the thought of infinite duration prest in, inexorably, on my soul! Come judgment day, come final conflagration, come end of all material things, come cessation and extinction of all angels, all souls, all sentient creatures, still this could not be the end. Eternity must needs go on and on, tho there were never an event or thought to mark its movement. There cannot be an end. They err, not measuring the import of their own arguments, who tell us, in that pride of not-knowing which is so high uplifted beyond any pride of knowledge, that the very form of the word infinite marks it as the sign of a thing inconceivable, being a mere negation. Nay, verily, it is the word end, limit, cessation, that is the negative word, having no meaning except as the negation of continuance; and infinite is the negation of this negation--a thing positive, affirmative, real. So, then, it is not the idea of infinity to which the human mind is unfitted. The mind is so made that it cannot help receiving that. The incredible, inconceivable idea is the idea of absolute end. So far is the idea of infinity from being inconceivable, that it is just impossible to thrust the conception out of the mind. And with the conception of eternity, there rushes into the thoughtful spirit at once, the awful and lovely conception of "that high and lofty One who inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy." By such a wonder of creation is it, that He who made the little ball of the human eye so that it can take in the heavens and the earth, has made the petty intellect of man so that it can take in the knowledge of the infinite God. II. But, secondly, it is even a greater wonder than this, that the infinite God, whom the intellect has conceived, draws near for a more intimate society with His creature, and enters the heart of man through the gateway of his affections. I say a greater wonder; for it must be confest that this ideal of the intellect, this center in which all infinite attributes inhere, does by His very majesty so overawe the heart that we shrink away from Him. By every new perfection of His nature, that grows upon our apprehension; by His awful power as the Almighty; by His perfect knowledge as the All-wise; by His unswerving steadfastness as the Faithful and True--the Immutable; by the very infinitude of His nature, He is withdrawn farther and farther from the possibility of being counted among those humble objects on which the tendrils of a human heart are able to lay hold. How, for instance, shall this Inhabitant of eternity, whose name is Holy, be well-pleased with His petty creature who has dared withstand His perfect law, and looks shrinking toward the throne of infinite Majesty, fearing and crying, "Unclean! unclean!" How shall any prayer that we can frame bring arguments to bear upon the Mind that knows the end from the beginning, and to whom there is not a word upon our lips, but lo! He knoweth it altogether? How can any pitiful plight into which we may fall move the compassion of Him who is immutable, and under whose benign government even the pains and severities that befall His creatures are wrought into a plan of common beneficence to the whole? These are questions which the awe-struck intellect, gazing upward at the infinite attributes that adorn the name which is holy, puts to the yearning heart, which, with all the craving of its love, with all the outstretching of its need, gropes after a God to worship, to love, to pray to, if haply it may find Him. And the heart cannot answer back the intellect with arguments of language. But love contains more reason than many arguments; and the strong instincts of affection and devotion with which the humble and contrite heart reaches out after the love and personal friendship of an infinite Creator are themselves an argument that God will not refuse Himself to the affections which He has Himself implanted. The hunger and thirst of our hearts for God are a promise from Him that they shall be filled. He cannot deny Himself. The very arguments by which we climb to the knowledge of the infinite Spirit are like mountains that separate us from any relation with him of childlike prayer and mutual love. But a trustful confidence can say to these mountains, "Be ye removed and be ye cast into the sea," and it shall be done. Have you ever pondered that dark mystery of human nature, the origin of the frightful idolatries of India? It seems to be proved that they had their beginning, not (as the prepossessions of modern science would suggest) through development from some form of fetishism baser and coarser still, but by degradation from the most refined and abstract speculations on the infinity, the spirituality, and the immutability of God. No subtler metaphysics is taught to-day in the lecture-rooms of Yale and Princeton than was taught long centuries ago by Hindoo sages, enthroning their supreme divinity in the everlasting, impassive repose of the unconditioned, far beyond the reach of affection, sympathy or prayer, until the needy millions cried out, stifling, famishing, "Give us a God to love, to worship, to pray to!" and, for lack of answer, betook them to the forest or the quarry or the mine, to the carver and the smith, and made them gods that were no gods. So little can argument and reason hold us back in times when the stress of life comes down upon us, and the cravings of the soul grow strong! I am bringing to the altar of God my offering--my poor little offering of thankfulness and prayer. Here have I my little bundle of anxieties, cares, troubles,--it may be the concerns of a nation in fear and perplexity; it may be the distress and terror of some sorely afflicted little household; it may be the secret of bitterness of some humble and contrite spirit; in any case, a matter how infinitely small when measured by the scale of immensity and eternity; but oh, how great a thing to me! And there meets me, in the way, a philosopher. "And what, forsooth, have you there? Show it me, now." And I unroll before Him my little bundle of griefs, of cares, of pains, of sickness, of fears, of forebodings,--here a handful of myrrh from a troubled heart, and there a sprig of frankincense from a grateful spirit. "And this, then, is what you would bring to lay before the infinite, the eternal, the omniscient, the unchangeable God!" And each great title smites upon my heart with discouragement and dismay. "This is what you would bring to Him in prayer and deprecation! But do you not know that all this is a part of a perfect system?--that it is all fixt by the laws of nature, which no prayer can change or suspend without upsetting the constitution of the universe. You would lay before God your wretched plight to move His pity? Tush! Did He not know it all a hundred thousand ages ago, or ever the earth was?" And I cannot gainsay Him, and I cannot cease to pray. But by and by the philosopher himself comes face to face with some of the overwhelming things in human life and human death. He hangs with tears and wringing of hands over some cradleful of childish anguish, and shrinks from what the laws of nature, the system of the universe, are doing there--so pitiless, so deaf to prayer, so blind to agony; and he looks away, and looks up, and cries, "My God, my God!" And his reason is not one whit the less true, because now, at last, his love and faith are also true and strong. The awful wonder of God's unchangeable infinity abides; but out of cloud and darkness breaks forth, oh, what light of fatherly love! And the bewildered soul sings:-- And can this mighty King Of glory condescend? And will He write His name My Father, and my Friend? I love His name! I love His word! Join all my powers and praise the Lord! And now behold a mystery--the mystery of godliness, without controversy great, manifest in the flesh! That He may come over these mountains of helpless separation, that we may be helped to know, to love, to trust that which is far too vast for the reach of our clinging affections to clasp, what wonders of condescending tenderness will not our Father do! There draweth near to us One having the likeness of man, but glorious with an unearthly glory, as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. He stands beside us in our daily cares, our household joys and griefs, our business troubles and anxieties, our national fears and sorrows. He shares our temptations. He is touched with the feeling of our infirmities. He carries our sorrows. He bears our sickness. He dies our death. How easy to love Him, to come near to Him, to trust Him! Being lifted up, how doth He draw all men unto Him! And what mean those wonderful words of His, telling of His intimacy, His sonship, His oneness with the invisible and eternal God? Could it be, perhaps, that such an one might bring us nearer to the inaccessible Light--might help us to draw nigh as seeing Him who is invisible? Oh, Master, show us the Father and it sufficeth us! And hear now His gracious words: "He that believeth on me believeth on him that sent me." "He that hath seen me hath seen the Father also." Thus the high and lofty One, who hath wonderfully entered into our narrow understanding, cometh also into our heart, and draweth us to His own bosom "with the chords of love, with the bands of a man." III. Finally, with a true spiritual intercourse and converse, which no man can define, which is as the viewless wind that men know altho they see it not, and feel its quickening and refreshment, altho they cannot tell whence it cometh nor whither it goeth, God entereth into our spirits, "not to sojourn, but to abide with us," and we become the temples of the Holy Ghost. JOSEPH PARKER A WORD TO THE WEARY BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE JOSEPH PARKER was born at Hexham-on-Tyne, England, in 1830. He was a prodigious worker, writer, and preacher. His "The People's Bible," in twenty-eight large volumes, a popular commentary on the Scriptures, is his greatest work. To a naturally energetic personality he added great originality and resourcefulness. He gave much time to the preparation of sermons, reading them aloud as he wrote in order to test their effect upon the ear. A strong personal quality pervaded all his preaching. "If I have not seen Him myself," he said, "I cannot preach Him." In lectures to students he gave much valuable advice gathered from the storehouse of his own varied experience. He gave particular attention to the use of the voice. "It is not enough," he said, "that you be heard; you must be effective as well as audible; you must lighten and thunder with the voice; it must rise and fall like a storm at times; now a whisper, now a trumpet, now the sound of many waters. There is an orator's voice, and there is a bellman's. The auctioneer talks; the orator speaks." Dr. Parker's sermons are published in numerous volumes. He died in 1902. JOSEPH PARKER 1830-1902 A WORD TO THE WEARY[7] [7] From "The People's Bible," by Joseph Parker, published by Funk & Wagnalls Company. _The Lord God hath given me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary._--Isaiah 1., 4. The power of speaking to the weary is nothing less than a divine gift. As we see the divinity in our gifts shall we be careful of them, thankful for them: every gift seems to enshrine the giver, God. But how extraordinary that this power of speaking to the weary should not be taught in the schools. It is not within the ability of man to teach other men how to speak to the weary-hearted, the wounded in spirit, the sore in the innermost feelings of the being. But can we lay down directions about this and offer suggestions? Probably so, but we do not touch the core of the matter. There is an infinite difference between the scholar and the genius. The scholar is made, the genius is inspired. Information can be imparted, but the true sense, the sense that feels and sees God, is a gift direct from heaven. It is a common notion that anybody can sing. Why can you sing? Why, because I have been taught. That is your mistake. You can sing mechanically, exactly, properly, with right time, right tune, but really and truly you can not sing. Here is a man with his music and with the words; he sings every note, pronounces every word, goes through his lesson, finishes his task, and nobody wants to hear him any more. Another man takes up the same music, the same words, and the same hearers exclaim, "Oh, that he would go on for ever!" How is that?--the words exactly the same, the notes identical--how? Soul, fire, ever-burning, never consuming, making a bush like a planet. The great difficulty in all such cases is the difficulty of transferring to paper a proper or adequate conception of the power of the men who thus sway the human heart. There are some men whose biographies simply belie them, and yet every sentence in the biography is true in the letter; but the biography is little else than a travesty and a caricature, because the power was personal, it was in the face, in the voice, in the presence, in the gait, in the touch--an incommunicable power; the hem of the garment trembled under it, but no biographer could catch it in his scholarly ink. Very few ministers can enter a sick chamber with any probability of doing real and lasting good. They can read the Bible, and they can pray, and yet, when they have gone, the room seems as if they had never been there. There is no sense of emptiness or desolation. Other men, probably not so much gifted in some other directions, will enter the sick room, and there will be a light upon the wall, summer will gleam upon the windowpane, and angels will rustle in the air, and it will be a scene of gladness and a vision of triumph. How is that? The Lord God hath given me the tongue of the learned that I might know how--_how_ to speak a word in season to him that is weary. The Lord God hath not only given me a word to say, but hath given me learning to teach me how to speak it. Place the emphasis upon the how, and then you develop all the mystery, all the tender music, all the infinite capacity of manner. We may say the right word in the wrong tone; we may preach the gospel as if it were a curse. The common notion is that anybody can go into the Sunday-school and teach the young. We sometimes think that it would be well if a great many persons left the Sunday-school all over the world. Teach the young--would God I had that great gift, to break the bread for the children, and to be able to lure and captivate opening minds, and to enter into the spirit of the words-- "Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot." It requires to be father and mother and sister and nurse and genius to speak to the young. They may hear you and not care for you: they may understand your words, and be repelled by your spirit. You require the tongue of the learned to know how to speak, and that tongue of the learned is not to be had at school, college, university--it is not included in any curriculum of learning--it is a gift divine, breathing an afflatus, an inspiration--the direct and distinct creation of God, as is the star, the sun. The speaker, then, is Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the representative of the Father, the incarnate Deity--He it is who is charged with the subtle learning; He it is whose lips tremble with the pathos of this ineffable music. Tho the gift itself is divine, we must remember that it is to be exercised seasonably. The text is, "that I should know how to speak a word in season." There is a time for everything. It is not enough to speak the right word, it must be spoken at the right moment. Who can know when that is! We can not be taught. We must feel it, see it hours beyond: nay, must know when to be silent for the whole twenty-four hours and to say, "To-morrow, at such and such a time, we will drop that sentence upon the listening ear." "The day after to-morrow, he will probably be in circumstances to admit of this communication being delivered with sympathy and effect." How few persons know the right time--the right time in conversation. Some people are never heard in conversation tho they are talking all the time. They talk so unseasonably, they talk when other people are talking; they can not wait; they do not know how to come in along the fine line of silence: they do not understand the German expression "Now an angel has passed," and they do not quickly enough follow in his wake. Consequently, tho chattering much they are saying nothing--tho their words be multitudinous, the impression they make is a blank. I have a ripe seed in my hand. As an agriculturist I am going to sow it. Any laborer in the field can tell me that I should be acting foolishly in sowing it just now. Why? "It is out of season," the man says. "There is a time for the doing of that action: I will tell you when the time returns--do it then, and you may expect a profitable result of your labor." Then I will change the character and be a nurse, and I will attend to my patient (perhaps I will over attend to him--some patients are killed by over nursing), and I will give the patient this medicine--it is the right medicine. So it is, but you are going to give it at the wrong time, and if you give the medicine at the wrong time, tho itself be right, the hour being wrong you will bring suffering upon the patient, and you yourself will be involved in pains and penalties. Thus we touch that very subtle and sensitive line in human life, the line of refined discrimination. You may say "I am sure I told him." You are right--you did tell him and he did not hear you. You may reply, "I am perfectly confident I delivered the message,--I preached the exact words of the gospel." So you did, but you never got the hearing heart, your manner was so unsympathetic, so ungentle, so cruel (not meant to be--unconsciously so), that the man never understood it to be a gospel. You spoilt the music in the delivery, in the giving of the message. The Lord God giveth the tongue of the learned, that he to whom it is given may know how to speak--how to speak the right word--how to speak the right word at the right point of time. You want divine teaching in all things, in speech not least. This is a curious word to find in the Bible. Does the Bible care about weary people? We have next to no sympathy with them. If a man be weary, we give him notice to quit: if he ask us to what place he can retire, we tell him that it is his business not ours. Now the tenderness of this Book is one of the most telling, convincing arguments on behalf of its inspiration, and its divine authority. This Book means to help us, wants to help us, it says, "I will try to help you, never hinder you: I will wait for you, I will soften the wind into a whisper, I will order the thunder to be silent, I will quiet the raging sea; I will wait upon you at home, in solitude, at midnight, anywhere--fix the place, the time, yourself, and when your heart most needs me I will be most to your heart." Any book found in den, in gutter, that wants to do this, should be received with respect. The purpose is good: if it fail, it fails in a noble object. Everywhere in this Book of God we find a supreme wish to help man. When we most need help the words are sweeter than the honeycomb. When other books are dumb, this Book speaks most sweetly. It is like a star, it shines in the darkness, it waits the going down of the superficial sun of our transient prosperity, and then it breaks upon us as the shadows thicken. This is the real greatness of God: he will not break the bruised reed. Because the reed is bruised, therefore the rude man says he may break it. His argument in brief is this: "If the reed were strong, I should not touch it, but seeing that it is bruised what harm can there be in completing the wound under which it is already suffering? I will even snap it and throw the sundered parts away." That is the reasoning of the rude man--that is the vulgar view of the case. The idea of the healing is the idea of a creator. He who creates also heals. Herein we see God's estimate of human nature: if He cared only for the great, the splendid, the magnificent, the robust, and the everlasting, then He would indeed be too like ourselves. The greatness of God and the estimate which He places upon human nature are most seen in all these ministrations in reference to the weak and the weary and the young and the feeble and the sad. Made originally in the image of God, man is dear to his Maker, tho ever so broken. Oh, poor prodigal soul with the divinity nearly broken out of thee, smashed, bleeding, crushed, all but in hell--while there is a shadow of thee outside perdition, He would heal thee and save thee. Thou art a ruin, but a grand one,--the majestic ruin of a majestic edifice, for knowest thou not that thou wast the temple of God? When we are weary, even in weariness, God sees the possibility of greatness that may yet take place and be developed and supervene in immortality. How do we talk? Thus: "The survival of the fittest." It is amazing with what patience and magnanimity and majestic disregard of circumstances we allow people to die off. When we hear that thousands have perished, we write this epitaph on their white slate tombstones: "The survival of the fittest required the decay of the weakest and the poorest." We pick off the fruit which we think will not come to perfection. The gardener lays his finger and thumb upon the tree, and he says, "This will not come to much"--he wrenches the poor unpromising piece of fruit off the twig and throws it down as useless. In our march we leave the sick and wounded behind. That is the great little, the majestic insignificant, the human contradiction. We go in for things that are fittest, strongest, most promising, healthy, self-complete, and therein we think we are wise. God says, "Not a lamb must be left out--bring it up: not a sick man must be omitted: not a poor publican sobbing his 'God be merciful to me a sinner' must be omitted from the great host. Bring them all in, sick, weary, wounded, feeble, young, illiterate, poor, insignificant, without name, fame, station, force--all in: gather up the fragments that nothing be lost." Let us go to that Shepherd--He will spare us and love us. When our poor strength gives out, He will not set His cruel heel upon us and kill us, He will gather us in His arms and make the whole flock stand still till He has saved the weakest one. Did we but know the name for our pain we should call it Sin. What do we need, then, but Christ the Son of God, the Heart of God, the Love of God? He will in very deed give us rest. He will not add to the great weight which bows down our poor strength. He will give us grace, and in His power all our faintness shall be thought of no more. Some of us know how dark it is when the full shadow of our sin falls upon our life, and how all the help of earth and time and man does but mock the pain it can not reach. Let no man say that Christ will not go so low down as to find one so base and vile as he. Christ is calling for thee; I heard His sweet voice lift itself up in the wild wind and ask whither thou hadst fled, that He might save thee from death and bring thee home. There is no wrath in His face or voice, no sword is swung by His hand as if in cruel joy, saying, "Now at last I have My chance with you." His eyes gleam with love: His voice melts in pity: His words are gospels, every one. Let Him but see thee sad for sin, full of grief because of the wrong thou hast done, and He will raise thee out of the deep pit and set thy feet upon the rock. McKENZIE THE ROYAL BOUNTY BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE ALEXANDER MCKENZIE was born at New Bedford, Mass., in 1830, and graduated from Harvard in 1859. Since 1867 he has been pastor of the First Congregational Church, Cambridge, Mass. His voice is rich, full and sympathetic, and his pulpit style that of one man talking earnestly and directly to another, there being no attempt at oratorical effect. He is to-day probably the most acceptable preacher at Harvard, and the leading Congregational minister in New England. The discourse reprinted here is from his volume "A Door Opened," and has been noted as one of the greatest sermons of the century. McKENZIE BORN IN 1830 THE ROYAL BOUNTY[8] [8] Reprinted by permission of Dr. Alexander McKenzie and the publishers, Houghton, Mifflin Co. _And King Solomon gave to the Queen of Sheba all her desire, whatsoever she asked, besides that which Solomon gave her of his royal bounty. So she turned and went to her own land, she and her servants._--1 Kings x., 13. The Queen of Sheba came from the uttermost part of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon. She was amazed at all that she had heard, and delighted with all that she saw, and confest that after the generous rumors that had reached her in her distant home the half had not been told her. She brought her present to him, as was the custom of the times; and when she went away she asked a gift of him, and history says that the king gave her all that she desired; and that, having given her everything of which she had thought, he added something more of his own thought. He gave her this, not because she had desired it, but because he had desired it; not for her heart's seeking, but out of his heart's wishing to bestow. This is the simple record: "And King Solomon gave to the Queen of Sheba all her desire, whatsoever she asked, besides that which Solomon gave her of his royal bounty." These last words describe the added gift, and this was doubtless the best of all; that upon which she would think with the greatest pleasure, and of which she would speak with the greatest pride. The word "royal" is well chosen, for we think of something which is great when we apply this term to it, as we speak of a royal deed, royal magnificence, royal benevolence, royal bounty. We readily approve the action of the king, for it is this excess of giving, beyond that which is demanded of us, which makes the real generosity. We are in the habit ourselves, so far as we are generous at all, of reaching beyond the real necessities and requests of our friends, and giving out of the largeness of our hearts. It is this excess which commands the high price. It is the added, extraordinary beauty of a painting which enhances its worth. Some pictures are sold by the square yard, and some by the inch. It is that which genius adds which is the royal bounty. It marks the difference between genius and talent. To be what we must, and to do what we must, is narrow and uninteresting. The man who is just, and no more, wins our praise for his integrity, but not our regard for his liberality. There are some men who would on no account have their measures in the slightest degree too small, but would be quite as careful not to have them too large. There is no reason why justice should not be combined with charity, and a strict regard for the legal demands which are made upon us with the excess out of a free heart which will make our justice beautiful. I saw in a fine country town a tall, graceful tree which cast its pleasant shade upon the path, and I marked that men had fastened upon it an iron frame which held a lamp that gave out its light upon the path. The tree was not the less a tree that it added the light, and the lamp was not less a lamp because it belonged to the tree. I came afterward and found that the bark of the tree had grown up around the iron where it was fastened to it, till the frame and lamp were fairly incorporated in the tree itself. It is easy thus to enlarge our life, adding beauty to strength, giving what our heart desires to give to that which Sheba asks at our hands. This thought is strongly expressed by St. Paul, "Scarcely for a righteous man," the man who does exactly what he ought to do, and nothing more, "will one die." Yet peradventure, for a good man, who does all he ought to do, and adds something because he wants to do it, some would even give their life. This man appeals to our heart which is ready to respond. The best things are indeed only to be given in this way. They can not be bought. They can not be had for the asking; such things as confidence, and friendship, and courtesy, which no statute can demand, but which the royal heart delights to give; and there is a like royalty which is able to receive and prize the gift. This is God's way, to whom all life is but the expression of his heart. We rejoice continually in his bountiful goodness. What is the need of flowers? He could have made a strong and honest earth which would take in the seed and give it out in harvest, and thus we could live; but when He had made the earth substantial, useful as it is, He added flowers, because He wished to give them, was delighted to look upon them, and knew how happy we should be who saw them blossom by the roadside. There is no need of birds. The world would go its way, the seasons would follow one another, the sun would rise and set, the forest trees would reach up toward the clouds, without them. God made all this, and then filled the quiet woods with forms of beauty, and changed silence into songs. Even heaven itself has more than we should have looked for or asked for. We might have had a good delightful heaven, without pain or sorrow or sighing, without death, and such a heaven we have. But in the vision of the Apocalypse, which only dimly sees the heavenly reality, its streets are covered with gold, as it were transparent glass; its gates are pearl, and the strong walls, which can not be moved, glisten with jewels. So it might have been with the arrangement of this world. We might have had men to care for us, women to nurture us, fathers to work for us, a society whose process might move on with industry and safety from year to year. But God has added the richer delights of love and sympathy, of all that we name friend and friendship. It is in the same way that He frames His ordinances for us. We could have had all days alike, but when He had made six good days He added a seventh which should be wearied by no work, wherein the soul should be at leisure to live with itself in quietness, and worship God. He might have supplied all our wants in the course of nature, bringing His gifts to our door with regularity, and we should have lived our appointed time; but He does more than this. He lets us thank Him when we take our daily bread, and blesses the bread with the love which gives it. He even lets us tell Him what we wish, and to our wishes He gives patient heed. He might have left us to conscience and experience, in the light of nature to frame our character and our hope, but to these He has added the thought of other men, the revelation of His wisdom by His saints, the gift of His spirit to our spirit, to be in us a continual light. There is a very good expression of God's way of dealing with us in a line of the twenty-third Psalm, "My cup runneth over." This seems unnecessary. To have the cup full, or a little less than full, is enough for us, and more convenient. For us, but not for God, who delights in filling it; and when we bid Him stay His hand, He keeps on pouring, and the water flows, till, presently, the cup is overflowing, but not because we thought to have it so, but because of His great delight in giving; until it would seem as if He could not stop, or content Himself with that which He has already bestowed upon us. Let this stand as a simple expression of His way with us. When we come upon anything that all good men approve, we may be very certain that we have found something which God Himself approves, and which is the method of His life. We like, among ourselves, this principle of the cup that runneth over. Our liking for it we have inherited from God. We might expect, therefore, that when the Son of God has His life in the world He will live by this rule, which is of heaven and of earth; and it is even so. His first miracle would seem unnecessary. There have been people who blindly but honestly wished that He had never wrought it. Why did He do it if there was no need of it, if it were even possible that it should be wrested from its meaning? He had gone as a guest to a wedding, perhaps because the bride was his friend, and there came that grave calamity which would mar the feast; for presently it was whispered to Him, "They have no wine." Surely they could have a wedding without wine. Not that wedding. Not in the custom of that time. He knew that the bride, if she lived to be old, would never recover from the shame of her wedding-day, whose beauty was lost. Here was a necessity, in love, in kindness; and that the cheeks of this girl might not redden with shame, He reddened the water into wine. He was at Capernaum. They brought to Him a sick man with the palsy. They broke up the roof, and lowered him to the feet of Jesus, who knew well what they wanted. He passed over the little thing which they sought, and, governed by His own feeling, not by theirs, he said, "Son, be of good cheer; thy sins are sent away from thee." That was enough. In a few days, the man would be able to walk without His help. Death comes to the succor of cripples. The man gave no sign of discontent, but Jesus found that the friends were unsatisfied, and He thought within Himself, "You brought him here that he might be raised up, and be made able to carry his bed home. I have done a greater thing for him, but I will add this which you want." "Arise," He said, "take up your bed and go your way." He did the greater work which made the soul strong, and for the lesser work,--well, He threw that in. It was the royal bounty. There was a time later than that, after His resurrection, when some of His disciples had toiled all the night upon the sea, and had taken nothing. He could not have it a fruitless night for them. In the morning He was their risen Savior, who might well bestow some spiritual gift becoming to the resurrection. This He did, but He said, "Cast your net on the right side of the ship, and you will find what you have been seeking." They cast it, therefore, and drew it in, full of fishes, a hundred and fifty and three. This is the record of a fisherman, who wrote that the fish were large; and of an old man, who remembered the number of them. They drew their net to shore, and there was a fire of coals, and fish laid thereon, another fish. When they had enough, one that was better than all was added. Have you not sometimes wished that you could have had that hundred and fifty-fourth fish? This was Christ's way all the while, and is His way still. He fills the net as full as it will hold, that our life may be sustained, and then He adds more, that His love may be gratified, and that which He adds is the "royal bounty." The work of our Lord was not merely in meeting the wants of men, but in creating the wants; not in gratifying their great desires, but in making their desires great. His own work in the world was twofold: to teach men how much more there was which they could enjoy, and how much more there was which He was eager to impart. The greater the desire, the surer it was that it would be met by His desire. Indeed, a large desire is necessary to wealth. We must look out toward that wherein our riches lie. "He who would bring home the wealth of the Indies must send out the wealth of the Indies." To him whose desires are allowed liberty there comes the answer of fulfillment from "the unsearchable riches of Christ." In all His life and in all His teachings we see vastly more than men ever asked, much more than they are willing to take even to-day. It has often been, as it was at the first, that "he came unto his own, and his own received him not"; but to those who received Him He gave all they wished, and more than they had thought; He gave the right to become the sons of God. They would have been content with a greater prophet, a bolder leader, a stronger king, a Messiah who should enthrone Israel and bring the nations in homage to its feet. He came bringing God to the world, giving an eternal liberty, erecting an everlasting kingdom. They wanted manna; He gave the bread of life. They wanted wells of water; He gave the well that should be within them, springing up for evermore. They wanted a leader; He gave a Savior. They wanted man; and He was God. This has continued even to our time. Many admire Christ because He was a teacher, neglecting that wherein He was infinitely more than teacher. They are glad of an example; He was that, but, far beyond it, He was the life whereby righteousness became possible. There are those who would be content with His beautiful spirit, His blameless life, His deeds of charity, His patience, His submission, His consent to a death which He could not avoid. He offers to the world the spirit of the Eternal, the life of God to be lived upon the earth; He lays down the life which no man could take from Him; and, with all the roads leading from Jerusalem open before Him, walks with determined step to Calvary and the cross. Beyond that which has contented many in the world, He gave Himself, the world's Redeemer, the Lamb of God, the Good Shepherd giving His life for the sheep. It is very, very sad to mark how ready we are to measure Christ's gifts to us by our narrow wants and limited desires; not by the greatness of His love, not by His exhaustless riches, not by the fulness of the grace of the Eternal, who is the Father and friend of all men. If ever we shall pass beyond the gratifying of ourselves, and allow Christ to gratify Himself in blessing us, we shall find in a glad experience what the simple words mean, "I am come that they might have life"--oh, friends, do not stop there, finish the sentence,--"I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly." We ask life of Him, and He gives us life, and offers length of days forever and forever. We pray that we may live; and we set up a goal at seventy or ninety years, when He draws no line across our path. "I give eternal life," He says. We pray for help that we may live; He offers more than that in the unrivaled sentence, "Because I live, ye shall live also." We think of life as being, and are content. We use existence as a synonym of living, but He said, "This is eternal life, to know God, and me." So for ourselves; we are to live as His disciples. We wish to be true, useful, and generous. We wish to do in small measure such things as He did,--in His name to give the cup of water, and the healing of the sick. He grants all that we desire, then speaks out of His own heart, and His desire, "The works that I do shall ye do, and greater works than these"; for the miracles which attract us or baffle us, which draw us to His love, or possibly turn us from His word, which are only miracles because they are strange to us, are to be exceeded in the things which we do, when by our teaching we open the eyes of men that they may see God, and lift them up to the ways of holy living, and raise them from being into life. Our visions of heaven in our reverent imagination, even in the exultant words of the Revelation, are not equal to the simple truths which He taught, and men learned to repeat after Him. For what are golden streets and jeweled walls beside that which He meant, "In my Father's house are many mansions." "I go to prepare a place for you." "Ye shall behold my glory." "Ye shall be loved as I am loved." The thought of Christ far outruns the aspiration of the world, as it comes to us from the lips of that disciple whom Jesus loved, "We shall be like him, for we shall see him even as he is." What do we need, then? To enlarge our desires! Yes, but to consent to God's desires. To wish for more, but to consent to be blest as Christ longs to bless us. We must know the methods of God, whose will to give is greater and more constant than our will to receive. We must adjust our life to God's desire. Faith is the compact of the soul with God, rather than with itself. "Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it," is a promise ever old and ever new. We must be firm enough and aspiring enough to hold the cup after it has begun to overflow, and to let God's hand pour the water of life as long as He will, for this world and all the worlds that are to be. If we could desire more, if we could ascend to God's desire for us, life would be transfigured. "The balsam, the wine, of predestinate wills Is a jubilant longing and pining for God." "God loves to be longed for, He loves to be sought, For He sought us Himself, with such longing and love." We wish now to take this method for our own in all our dealing with God. Our sense of what is right, the voice of conscience, the commands of Scripture, call us to our duty. Let us do what they require till conscience is satisfied; but let us add to this more than a rigid obedience asks for, all that a loving heart, grateful and generous, wishes to bestow. The little questions of life, small matters of casuistry, minute affairs of conduct, would be quite readily determined if we would live by this rule, wherewith God blesses us. That question which with unusual urgency now presses upon us, how we shall regard the Sabbath day, would not be difficult if it were our delight to remember it, and to keep it holy because it is our delight to please Him who has given to us its sacredness and blessedness. It is pitiful when we find ourselves questioning how much of the day should be holy; how much of it should be given to the thought of God and the divine life; how much of it we should yield to the holy spirit of truth; how many of the hours we should keep in the remembrance of Him whose resurrection gives to the Sabbath its greater meaning. We should keep the Sabbath holy as if we desired to keep it holy. All its hours should be sacred. They need not be less joyous, less friendly, for being holy; and we can not be gratified with the spirit in which we find ourselves trying to divide the time. Keep twenty-four hours for God, and if by any means you can make the time overflow add a twenty-fifth hour. We question again about money. What proportion of our property should we devote to God? The Jews said one-tenth. Can we do no better, after so long a time? Let us give the whole, and if by any means we can compass it, let us add another tenth, simply to show what a delight it is to give all things to Him, and to let Him make the allotment in His care for us, and for our household, and for the Church, and for the wide world that we are living in. There are many who do this, and they learn how true is that word of Christ that is called to mind among the Acts of the Apostles, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." Thus, in all things let us make the way of God our own, become His children entirely, receive the love of Christ in its fulness, make up our own life in His name, according to the largeness of His thought. If we will consent to it, we can be great and rich and strong. It seems strange to say that we are not ready to be blest, but of many it is true. They are not willing to be greatly blest, to have the cup run over. They are willing to be useful, but not very useful. They ask to be set in His service, but when He takes their word and breathes His own desire into it, they shrink back. It is a very serious thing, if we are able to perceive it, to consent that God should bless us as He pleases, should have His own estimate of our character, His own measure of our powers, His own vision of our accomplishment, and should call us to greater service, to diviner employment, than we have ever dreamed of. It was a wise woman who said, "I have had to face my own prayers." We face our prayers when God gives His own wish to our words, and makes them large enough to hold His thoughts. It is one of the hardest things to believe, but one to which, in humbleness of mind and in a faith which will not falter, we should consent,--that high word of calling and consecration which Christ gave more than once,--"As the Father hath sent me into the world, even so send I you." Not our thought but His thought makes our calling, and the thought of God is the summons and the guidance of our life. Even so, even according to Thy greatness, and Thy gentleness which makes men great; Thine infinite purposes, and Thine eternal grace; even so, O Lord of mercy and of truth, send us into the world! As we close these thoughts, let us remember that promise which comes at the close of the Old Testament, which almost seems to reverse the promise at the beginning of the Old Testament, "I will never open the windows of heaven and pour out a flood again"; for the last of the prophets brings to us the word of God, that He will open the windows of heaven, and pour out a flood again. It shall not come to destroy, but to preserve; it shall create life; it shall enlarge life, but it shall be after the measure of His will, not ours. "Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, and prove me now herewith, if I will not open the windows of heaven, and pour out a blessing that there shall not be room enough to receive it." Not drops here and there, but showers of blessing. Not running brooks, but broad rivers. Not pools of water, but a shoreless sea; deep, deep waters, when, looking up into the infinite Love, and consenting to be blest of God as God would bless us, we bring all the tithes into the storehouse and the remainder of the tithes, if any have been left. "I will pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it." Not room enough to receive it; that is the royal bounty. FARRAR WORK IN THE GROANING CREATION BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR was born in Bombay, India, in 1831. He was educated at King's College, London, and at Trinity College, Cambridge. He became dean of Canterbury in 1895, and died in 1903. His Life of Christ, the most widely read of his many religious works, has been translated into many languages--even into Japanese. The following illustrates his power of emphasis. "There, amid those voluptuous splendors, Pilate, already interested, already feeling in this prisoner before him some nobleness which touched his Roman nature, asking Him in pitying wonder, 'Art thou the King of the Jews?'--Thou poor, worn, tear-stained outcast, in this hour of Thy bitter need--O pale, lonely, friendless, wasted man, in Thy poor peasant garments, with Thy tied hands and the foul traces of the insults of Thine enemies on Thy face and on Thy robes--Thou, so unlike the fierce, magnificent Herod, whom this multitude which thirsts for Thy blood acknowledged as their sovereign--art Thou the King of the Jews?" FARRAR 1831-1903 WORK IN THE GROANING CREATION[9] [9] Reprinted by permission of Messrs. E. P. Dutton & Co. _And God saw everything that he had made, and behold it was very good._--Gen. i., 31. _For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now._--Rom. viii., 22. _And there shall be no more curse._--Rev. xxii., 3. In those three texts you have the past, the present, the future of our earth; what was, what is, what shall be; the perfectness which man has marred, the punishment which he is enduring, the hope to which he looks. What share we may have in the marring or the mending of this our transitory dwelling, that is our main subject to-day. We see some glimpses at least of the truth that actively by sympathy, by thoughtfulness, by charity, by unselfishness, by loving one another;--that even passively by abstaining from the fashionable and universal vice of biting and devouring one another;--we see that by honesty, by self-reverence, by reverence for others, by obeying the golden rule of "doing unto others as we would they should do unto us," we may do very much to limit the realm of sorrow, and to substitute a golden for an iron scepter in its sway over human hearts. We see, too, that our own inevitable trials and humiliations,--all the neglect, all the insult, all the weariness, all the disappointment, all the ingratitude, which may befall us,--can be better borne if we be cheerful and active in doing good. Labor for God is the best cure for sorrow, and the best occupation of life. Can we to-day push the inquiry yet further, and learn whether it is in our power in any way to mend the flaw which runs for us through the material world; or in any way to diminish for ourselves and for mankind the pressure of that vast weight of laws which exercises over us, undoubtedly, a sway of awful potency? The whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now; can we--not by any strength of ours, but because God permits and desires it, can we do anything to hasten that blest hour for which we wait--the hour of the new creation; of the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body; of the restitution of all things; of the _palingenesia_ of the world? I think we can. I know that the supposed helplessness of man is a favorite topic of modern materialism, which makes of man the irresponsible tool of forces which he can not resist, the sport and prey of dumb powers which are alike inexorable and passionless. This philosophy--if we may call it a philosophy--laughs to scorn the notion of a miracle, and makes virtue and vice not the conscious choice of free beings, but the inevitable result of material causes and hereditary impulses, of which in all but semblance, we are the mere automata and slaves. My brethren, into all these speculations of a baseless atheism, I need not enter. To us, nature means nothing but the sum total of phenomena which God has created; and since in the idea of nature is included the idea of God, a miracle becomes as natural and as easily conceivable as the most ordinary occurrence. And we know that we are free, that God does not mock us, that we can abhor that which is evil, and cleave to that which is good. The laws of nature are nothing, then, for us but observed sequences, and we do not admit that there is anything fearful in their uniformity. It is true that nature drives her plowshare straight onwards, and heeds not what may be lying in the furrow; it is true that therefore she shows an apparent indifference to human agony; it is true that if the fairest and sweetest child which earth ever saw be left at play in the face of the advancing tide, the tide will still advance and drown the little life; it is true that the fire in its ruthless vividness will roll over the loveliest maiden whose rich dress should catch its flame. It is a law that resistance must be equal to force, and that if there be a certain amount of pressure of vibration, whatever comes of it, a structure will give way, even though, alas, it hurl nearly a hundred human beings, with one flash of horror, into the gulf of death. But is this any reason for a fierce arraignment of nature, as tho she were execrably ruthless, and execrably indifferent? Not so, my brethren. Death whenever it comes is but death. None of us has any promise of this or that amount of life. It needs no railway accident, no sinking ship, or breaking ice, or burning town, or flame from heaven, or arrow in the darkness, or smiting of the sun by day, or the moon by night, to cut short our days. An invisible sporule in the air may do it, or a lesion no bigger than a pin's point. "He ate, drank, laughed, loved, lived, and liked life well; Then came--who knows?--some gust of jungle wind, A stumble on the path; a taint i' the tank; A snake's nip; half a span of angry steel; A chill; a fishbone; or a falling tile,-- And life is over, and the man is dead." But is this any reason why we should look on ourselves as victims of dead irresponsible forces? Why so? Death is but death, and if we live faithfully, death is our richest birthright. "Were you ready to die that you jumped into the stormy sea to save that child's life?" said a gentleman to an English sailor. "Should I have been better prepared, sir," the sailor answered, "if I had shirked my duty?" A sudden death is often, and in many respects, the most merciful form of death; and the apparently terrible death of a few may save the lives of many hundreds. The uniformity of nature may sometimes wear the aspect of passionless cruelty; but as we learn more and more to observe and to obey her laws, we find more and more that they work for countless ends of beneficence and beauty, that out of seeming evil she works real good, out of transient evil enduring good. The fires which rend the earthquake and burst from the volcano, are the quickening forces of the world; her storms lash the lazy atmosphere which otherwise would stagnate into pestilence, and it is for man's blessing, not for his destruction, that her waters roll and her great winds blow. But are we, after all, so very helpless before the aggregate of these mighty forces, as materialism loves to represent? Not so! "Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands," said the Psalmist, "Thou hast put all things under his feet." "Replenish the earth, and subdue, and have dominion," said the first utterance of God to man. And what is this but an equivalent of the latest utterances of science, that "the order of nature is ascertainable by our faculties to an extent which is practically unlimited, and that our volition counts for something in the course of events"? Man has done much to make the world in all senses a worse place for himself, but he has also, thank God, done much to make it better, and he may, to an almost unspeakable extent, remedy for himself and for his race the throes and agonies of the groaning universe. God meant His earth to be a more blest place for us than it is, and in every instance men have made it more blest when they have read the open secrets, by virtue of which, for our excitement, if not for our reward, "herbs have their healing, stones their preciousness, and stars their times." Ancient nations have shuddered at the awfulness of the sea. It drowns ship and sailor; but "trim your sail, and the same wave which drowns the bark is cleft by it, and bears it along like its own foam, a plume and a power." The lightning shatters tower and temple; but once learn that it is nothing but the luminous all-pervading fluid which you may evolve by rubbing a piece of amber, and brush out of a child's fair hair, and then with no more potent instrument than a boy's kite you may dash harmless to the earth the all-shattering brand which was the terror of antiquity; nay, you may seize it by its wing of fire, and bid it carry your messages around the girdled globe. Zymotic diseases smite down the aged and young, but, when you have learnt that they are caused by myriads of invisible germs which float in the water or the air, you have but to observe the commonest rules of sanitary science, to filter and boil the dangerous water, to insure free currents of air, to breathe as nature meant you to breathe, through the nostrils, and not through the throat, and you rob them of half their deadliness. Why has smallpox been stayed in its loathly ravages, and deprived of its hideous power? Why does the Black Death rage no longer, as it raged among the monks of this Abbey four centuries ago? Why do we not have pestilence, like that great plague of London, which destroyed 7,165 persons in a single week? Why has jail fever disappeared? Why are the cities of Europe horrified no longer by the hideousness of medieval leprosy? Because men live amid cleaner and purer surroundings. Because rushes are no longer strewn over floors which had been suffered to be saturated with the organic refuse of years. Because the simplest laws of nature are better understood. Because, in these respects, men have remedied by God's aid, some of those miseries for which the Savior sighed. And this amelioration of man's miseries is a great, and noble, and Christlike work. Would that there were no other side to the picture! Man, alas! also has done, and may do, infinite mischief to the world he lives in. He may cut down the forests on the hills, and so diminish the necessary rain. He may pluck up the grasses on the shore, and so lay waste whole acres to the devastating sands. He may poison the sweet, pure rivers of his native soil, till their crystal freshness is corrupted into deathful and putrescent slime. He may herd together, as we suffer our poor to do, in filthy tenements which shall breed every species of disease and vice. He may indulge or acquiesce in senseless fashions and pernicious vanities which shall mean not only wasteful ugliness and grotesque extravagance, but leave shattered health and ruined lives, to the mothers of his race. He may in greed of competition extirpate the game of the forest, the fishes of the sea. He may destroy the exquisite balance of nature, by shooting down or entrapping the sweet birds of the air, till his vines and his harvests are devastated by the insects on which they feed. He may suffer the chimneys of his manufactories to poison the atmosphere with black smoke and sulphurous acid, till his proudest cities are stifled at noonday, as we all have seen in London for these many weeks, with the unclean mirk of midnight fogs. He may suffer noxious gases to be vomited upon the breeze, till the most glorious buildings in his cities corrode and crumble--as the stones of this Abbey are doing--under their influence,--till the green woods blacken into leafless wastes, and life is lived at miserable levels of vitality under the filthy reek. There is hardly any limit to the evil, no less than to the good, which man may do to this his earthly environment. Nor is it less deplorable that he may go out of his way to do endless mischief to himself by his misuse or abuse of the properties of things. From the dried capsules of the white poppy he extracts opium, and he grows acres of poppies that with thousands of chests of that opium he may degrade into decrepitude and wretchedness the most populous nations upon earth. Nature gives him the purple grape and the golden grain, and he mashes them and lets them rot and seethe, and assists, and superintends, and retards their decomposition, till he has educed from them a fermented intoxicating liquor; and not content with this luxury, he pours it into Circean cups of degrading excess; not content with even fermentation, he further, by distillation, extracts a transparent, mobile, colorless fluid, which is the distinctive element in ardent spirits, and these, whatever may be their legitimate use in manufacture or in medicine, he has so horribly abused that they have become to mankind, the _spiritus ardentes_ indeed, but not of heaven--fiery spirits of the abyss, which have decimated nations, ruined continents, shortened millions of lives, and turned for millions of God's children, and millions of Christ's little ones, life into an anguish, and earth into a hell. Do not say we can do nothing to soften for man the deadly agencies which are working in the world,--for all this mischief, and incalculably more than this, is man's own doing. But let me ask you to glance for a moment at one of the beneficent secrets which nature has yielded up to man. Have you ever realized, with heartfelt gratitude to God, the priceless boon which He has granted to this generation in the diminution of pain? One of our best surgeons has just told us the strange yet simple story of this discovery, from the first dim intimation of the possibility in 1789, till in 1846 it might almost be said that in Europe we could name the month, before which all operative surgery was agonizing, and after which it was painless. But what an immense, what an enormous boon is this application of anodynes! "Past all counting is the sum of happiness enjoyed by the millions who have, in the last thirty-three years, escaped the pain that was inevitable in surgical operations; pain made more terrible by apprehension; more keen by close attention; sometimes awful in a swift agony; sometimes prolonged beyond even the most patient endurance, and then renewed in memory, and terrible in dreams. This will never be felt again." And besides this abolition of pain, it would take long to tell how chloroform and ether "have enlarged the field of useful surgery, making many things easy which were difficult, many safe which were perilous, many practical which were nearly impossible." But another lesson this eminent man of science draws, which bears directly on our subject, is that while we are profanely decrying nature, discoveries the most blest, boons the most priceless, may lie close to us and yet God leave us to discover them; and that we may endure many needless miseries, falsely accusing nature and even God, only because we have neither hope enough to excite intense desire, nor desire enough to encourage hope. We wonder that for forty years the discovery of anesthetics was not pursued, tho, after the pregnant hint of Sir H. Davy, it lay but half hidden under so thin a veil. Our successors will wonder at us, as we at those before us, that we were as blind to who can tell how many great truths, which, they will say, were all around us, within reach of any clear and earnest mind. They will wonder at the quietude with which we stupidly acquiesce in, or immorally defend, the causes which perpetuate and intensify our habitual miseries. Our fathers needlessly put up with these miseries "as we now put up with typhoid fever and sea-sickness; with local floods and droughts; with waste of health and wealth in pollutions of rivers; with hideous noises, and foul smells"; with the curse of alcoholic poisoning, and many other miseries. Our successors, when they have remedied or prevented these, will look back on them with horror, and on us with wonder and contempt, for what they will call our idleness or blindness, or indifference to suffering. Alas! in the physical as in the moral world, we murmur at the evils which surround us, and we do not remove them. We multiply those evils, and make life wretched, and then curse nature because it is wretched, and neglect or fling away the precious gifts and easy remedies which would make it blest. And is it not so in the spiritual world? Nine-tenths of our miseries are due to our sins. Yet the remedy of our sins is close at hand. We have a Savior; we have been commemorating His birth, but we live and act as tho He were dead; in our own lives and those of others we suffer those miseries to run riot which He came to cure; we talk and live as tho those remedies were undiscoverable, while from day to day His Word is very nigh us, even in our mouths and in our hearts! For one sermon you hear about work for the secular amelioration of the suffering world for which Christ sighed, you may (I suppose) hear fifty on passing ecclesiastical controversies and five thousand about individual efforts for personal salvation. And yet one pure, self-sacrificing deed, one word of generosity to an opponent, one kindly act to aid another, may have been better for you in God's sight and far harder for you to do, than to attend in the year the 730 daily services which this Abbey provides. Yes, I am glad that I have preached to you to-day the duty of what some would call secular work--as tho secular work were not often the most profoundly religious work!--for the amelioration of the world. And I say, it were better for you to have made but two blades of grass grow where one grew before, than if, with the hollow, hateful, slanderous heart of some false prophets of modern religionism, you were every morning to do whatever modern thing may be analogous to binding your fringes with blue, and broadening your phylacteries,--to making the hilltops blaze with your sacrificial fires, building here seven altars, and offering a bullock and a ram on every altar. And so, my brethren, let us leave this Abbey to-day with conceptions of duty larger and more hopeful; with more yearning both after the sympathy of Christ and after His activity; with more faith to see that the world would not be so utter a ruin but for our perversity; with more hope to be convinced that even we can help to redeem its disorders, and restore its pristine perfectness. Let us obey the command, "Ephphatha, Be opened!" Let us lift up our eyes to see that, tho the air around us is colorless, the far-off heaven is blue. Let us see and be thankful for the beauty of the world, the sweet air, the sunshine, the sea, the splendid ornaments of heaven, the ever-recurring circles of the divine beneficence. Let us learn the secrets of the mighty laws which only crush us when we disobey them, and which teach us, with divine inflexibility, that as we sow we reap. Let us not hinder the students of science in their patient toil and marvelous discovery by the crude infallibilities of our ignorant dogmatism. Let us believe--for we were saved in hope--that "Utopia itself is but another word for time"; and that, if our own work seems but infinitesimal, yet "there are mites in science, as well as in charity, and the ultimate results of each are alike important and beneficial." And so the more we share in the sigh and in the toil of the Savior, the more shall we share in His redeeming gladness. "Dr. Burrell always sounds a bugle-call to high emprise. This one will stir whatever of knighthood is active or latent in the heart of the young man who reads it."--JOHN BANCROFT DEVINS, _Editor New York_ "_Observer_." * * * * * THE LURE OF THE CITY By DAVID JAMES BURRELL, D.D., LL.D. _Pastor of the Marble Collegiate Church, New York City_ Addrest to "the youth whose lot is cast in the city or whose heart is turned that way; who knows himself a man, and with eyes aloft, means to make himself a better one; who plans a full equipment, that he may win splendidly."--_From the Preface._ "I have seldom had more pleasure than I have found in reading Dr. Burrell's strong and suggestive book. It is a book for the present hour and the present age. In a style singularly lucid and wonderfully attractive, Dr. Burrell sets forth the dangers of the city on the one hand and its advantages on the other. Each of the twenty-two chapters might stand by itself as a word of cheer, a bugle-call or a warning. The epithet most suitable to the book, as a whole, is 'sane.' Nothing is overstrained. Everything is practical, and the book is thoroughly manly, and is infused throughout with the author's vigorous and winning personality. It is emphatically a book for the young man."--MARGARET E. SANGSTER, _Editor of the St. Nicholas Magazine_, New York. _12mo, Cloth. $1.00, net; by mail, $1.08_ FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Pubs. NEW YORK AND LONDON A JUNIOR CONGREGATION A CHILDREN'S SERMON APPROPRIATE TO EVERY SUNDAY OF THE YEAR, TOGETHER WITH HINTS FOR FORMING A JUNIOR CONGREGATION By JAMES M. FARRAR, D.D. _Pastor of the First Reformed Church, Brooklyn, and Minister of the First Organized Junior Congregation_ The church-going men and women of to-day were the church-going children of their youth. But theirs, most likely, was a _compulsory_ attendance. This, however, is the _Children's Age_. More time, more thought, more energy are, in this generation, given to the study, development, and discipline of children than has ever been attempted in any past century. _The Children's Church_ is being organized in congregations where the children's welfare and the church's future are close at heart. Children in such a church love to attend, for theirs is _A Junior Congregation_ worshiping with the regular congregation, thus forming habits of church-going in their best habit-forming years, and acquiring a familiarity with the church's services and ordinances that will help them grow into sturdy church workers. _12mo, Cloth. $1.20, net; by mail, $1.28_ FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Pubs. NEW YORK AND LONDON =Rev. T. De Witt Talmage, D.D.=: "I heartily commend his book. He has rendered invaluable service." { _OF THE VOICE_ _PERFECTION_ { _GESTURE_ { _BEARING_ =THE DRILL-BOOK OF VOCAL CULTURE= By Prof. EDWARD P. THWING. A Comprehensive Study of the Fundamental Constituents of Effective, Graceful Speaking. Heartily Commended by the Highest Authorities. [Illustration: decoration] OUTLINE OF CONTENTS. What Elocution Really Is--Outline of Preparatory Physical Training by Respiratory Exercises and Gymnastics--The Production of Tone--Cultivating the Articulation Along the Lines of Pitch, Melody, and Force--Rate of Movement--Personation or Picturing--Gesture and Extemporaneous Speech--Facial Expression. =Prof. J. W. Churchill=, Andover: "It is an invaluable treatise." =The Independent=, New York: "Compact and inexpensive, but it omits nothing essential." =_16mo, 111 pp., Illustrated, Paper Covers, 25 cents. Post-free._= =FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers,= =NEW YORK and LONDON= =Profit and Loss= =in Man= By ALPHONSO A. HOPKINS, Ph.D. The New Gospel of Patriotic, Economic, and Political Common Sense on the Temperance Question. The most up-to-date and powerful plea for Prohibition upon purely economic grounds that has been written in years. It is calm and dispassionate, and discusses the problem from the cold matter-of-fact standard of dollars and cents. CONTENTS I. The Cost of a Boy. VIII. Moral Facts and Political Factors. II. Boy and Bar. IX. Dictionary Politics. III. Manhood and Law. X. A Curse, a Crime, and the Cure. IV. Labor, Liquor, and Law. XI. Publicans and Republicans. V. Christian Loyalty. XII. Democrats and Drink. VI. Barabbas. XIII. Methods of Settlement. VII. Moral and Political Force. "The unique idea of placing temperance on a commercial basis, of considering the difference between the actual cash value of a man who drinks and the man who abstains, is intensely interesting and profitable. Prof. Hopkins claims that each young man twenty-one years of age represents a cost to society of two thousand dollars ($2,000). Will he pay--will he 'make good'--on the investment if he becomes a drinker? That's the question! In the United States are one and a half millions of drunkards--a stupendous loss of an investment aggregating over five billions of dollars ($5,000,000,000)."--_Cumberland Presbyterian, Nashville, Tenn._ _12mo, Cloth, 376 pp. $1.20, net; by mail, $1.32_ FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Pubs. NEW YORK AND LONDON A WORKING GRAMMAR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE By JAMES C. FERNALD, L.H.D. _Editor of the "Students' Standard Dictionary." Author of "English Synonyms, Antonyms, and Prepositions," "Connectives of English Speech," Etc., Etc._ In this book Dr. Fernald has covered the field of English grammar in an immensely practical and entirely new and popular manner. Recognizing the large number of persons who have not the time to study ponderous definitions and arguments, he has prepared what is, in every sense, a very concise and useful "working grammar." Herein the business man, stenographer, clerk, lawyer, physician, clergyman, teacher--everyone who would refresh and enrich his knowledge of English--will find, in simple statement, a clear and lucid explanation of the principles of English grammar. All that makes the study of grammar a mystery is eliminated, and the whole book is constructed so as to enable any intelligent person to find his own way, by its teachings, to a correct working knowledge of English. _Price, $1.50, net; post-paid, $1.64_ FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Pubs. NEW YORK AND LONDON THE PREPARATION OF MANUSCRIPTS FOR THE PRINTER By FRANK H. VIZETELLY, F.S.A. _Associate Editor of the_ "_Standard Dictionary_," _etc._ This book is designed for the guidance of all who have any concern with printing, and will prove of permanent value to all persons engaged in writing or in copying manuscripts. Typographical marks are exemplified and explained; the different sizes of type with their names and uses are presented, with aids in the computing of space which manuscripts will occupy in printed form; the book also shows authors how they can effectively reduce the cost of corrections in type, and tells them when, where, and how to make such corrections and how to dispose of manuscripts. "Is at once the most exhaustive and most succinct of the many books at the service of the young author."--_Evening Mail_, New York. "A thoroughly practical little book which will prove invaluable to all who are interested in the preparation of manuscript."--_Times_, Brooklyn, N. Y. _12mo, Cloth, 153 pages. 75 cents_ FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Pubs. NEW YORK AND LONDON * * * * * Transcriber's note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed. Missing page numbers are page numbers that were not shown in the original text. Mismatched quotes are not fixed if it's not sufficiently clear where the missing quote should be placed. Page 36: ... have cried (oh, how men do cry in those storms of the soul, in those tempests and terrors of the heart), "Lord, save us ... The transcriber has supplied the closing parenthesis. 
36351	----	Transcriber's Notes: Words in italics in the original are surrounded by _underscores_. A row of asterisks represents a thought break. MEMORIAL OF MRS. LUCY GILPATRICK MARSH. A FUNERAL ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE ELIOT CHURCH, BOSTON HIGHLANDS, MONDAY, JUNE 22, 1868. BY REV. A. C. THOMPSON, D.D. PRINTED BY ORDER OF THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE OF THE ELIOT CITY MISSION SOCIETY. BOSTON: GOULD AND LINCOLN, 59 WASHINGTON STREET. 1868. FUNERAL ADDRESS. When the Lord removed his servant Moses, there was but one mourner, and that mourner was all Israel. To-day a whole community is the mourner. A mother--may I not say, _the_ mother--in Israel has been taken from us. A woman, a whole woman, an aged woman, a thoroughly Christian woman,--one worthy to have sat with Mary Magdalene and the other Mary "over against the sepulchre," to have returned with them, that she might assist in preparing sweet spices, and, when the Sabbath was past, to have come back again to the tomb,--is herself to be laid away to-day. We glance at her career and character. It is of small moment where she was born,--it was in the town of Biddeford, Maine; of small moment that it was on July 3d, 1792; of small moment that she was the youngest of twelve children, none of whom now survive. But it is a point of interest to us, that, when a little past twenty years of age, she became by renewing grace a child of God; that the chief reason for leaving home, fifty years ago, was a persistent opposition, on the part of friends, to her Christian activity; that afterwards she left for a time her field of usefulness in this city to attend upon her mother in her last sickness, and then had the satisfaction of rejoicing over the conversion of that parent at the same age she has now herself departed this life. Still later, and under the same circumstances, she performed a similar kind service for her father in his closing sickness, and was cheered by the hope of his conversion too, when just verging upon fourscore. Being in Biddeford at that time for ten months, she established a female prayer-meeting, and several conversions followed. She also, after much opposition, opened a Sabbath school, having obtained permission to occupy a school-house, but at the same time being forbidden to use wood belonging to the town. That, it was supposed, would prevent the attendance of children. But the noble woman was not to be baffled thus. In her own arms she carried fuel from her house. Of course the Sabbath school was a success. She had previously had tempting offers, to the extent even of the homestead to be secured to her, if she would remain there; but Providence, as she believed, evidently called her to Christian labors in this city, and to her mind that was decisive. Pecuniary considerations might not divert her from the Master's service here. How far from a sinecure was that! While acting indefatigably as matron of a reformatory institution, she attended the prayer-meetings of the church to which she belonged, and a private devotional meeting preparatory to each of them. In addition to her regular Sabbath-school exercise, she once a week taught a class of colored children, and spent Saturday afternoons in visiting members of the same, besides paying weekly visits to persons in the House of Correction. One of the senior members of this church hands me, by request, the following memorandum:[Footnote: Rev R. Anderson, D.D.]-- "I have known Mrs. Marsh since the year 1820, or about forty-eight years. In that year I came to Boston from the Andover Seminary, with several classmates, to spend a vacation in missionary labors, and made my home at a religious boarding-house, kept by Miss Witham and Miss Gilpatrick. As I recollect Miss Gilpatrick,--and I well recollect her,--she was the same sort of a Christian woman then that we have known her to be of late years, only without that grand development, which time and the grace of God have given her, placing her among the more remarkable Christian women of her generation. Miss Witham was married, not long after, to the Rev. Amos Bingham, brother of the missionary, and, at a later period, Miss Gilpatrick was married to the Rev. Christopher Marsh, pastor of the Congregational Church in West Roxbury. For several years before her marriage she had filled a responsible station in one of the most self-denying departments of the religious charities in Boston; and always, as I have understood, with the unbounded confidence of those who knew her, in her ability, integrity, and devotedness to the cause of her Redeemer, and in her unwearied efforts for the salvation of those placed under her care. Since that time she has been a striking illustration of an humble, devoted, self-denying, intelligent, useful follower of the Lord Jesus." * * * * * What might be expected of such a one as parishioner? Just what her pastor at Jamaica Plain,[Footnote: Rev A. H. Quint, D.D.] and other friends there testify. The church in that place, then struggling into existence, was not a little indebted to her. It was her constant endeavor to promote sociability in the congregation; she made it an invariable practice to call on all new-comers, and to request others to do the same. Never did she, except under necessity, absent herself from church meetings, nor omit to speak a kind word and also a faithful word to those whom she met, when suitable occasions presented. Her spirit and ways were peculiarly motherly. During her residence here, I have never looked upon her as a parishioner so much as a colleague, my senior, and one that may well be accounted a model. * * * * * What might be expected of such a one as pastor's wife? I indulge in no vague and conjectural portrait-painting, nor yield to any professional bias, but give the deliberate judgment of those acquainted, and qualified to speak. In the delicate relation now referred to, she was greatly beloved at West Roxbury;[Footnote: 1831-1850.] her life there was that of a missionary laboring in the by-ways for miles around. It was very much owing to her truly self-denying and most energetic efforts, that a place of worship was built, for which, as for the communion service, she solicited funds. She collected the Sabbath school, and for a time superintended it herself. She gathered a female prayer-meeting, and a meeting of mothers, both of which she sustained almost unaided. Her kind attentions to the sick and afflicted, to the aged and the young, were unwearied. * * * * * In 1838, the Rev. Mr. Marsh, finding his health improved, was invited to settle again over the church in Sanford, Me., where he had first been a pastor. Soon after, there began a remarkable work of grace in that town, and during the short ministry there, till death closed her husband's labors, Mrs. Marsh toiled and prayed, and rejoiced over a spiritual harvest. It is not too much to say there will be weeping throughout the town of Sanford, where these remains are to be taken, when the news of her decease shall reach the place. What she was as a mother, faithful and tender, there are those present who can testify. What now might be expected of one, with such a character and such antecedents, on becoming our city missionary? Precisely what we delight to record of her. In September, 1861, she began that labor amongst us. Singular devotedness, fidelity, and good judgment have marked her whole ministry here. Not long since she mentioned to a friend that she had taken this passage for her daily resting-place,--"Be careful for nothing." Of nothing that pertained to herself--ease, strength, or health--was she careful. The cause of the poor, and those spiritually perishing, she made her own. She gathered, and chiefly maintained, two or more series of weekly prayer-meetings, and a mother's meeting; she taught a Bible-class in the mission Sabbath school; and that school, by their tearful presence, now attest the deep regard which they entertain for her. * * * * * A sewing school, during the colder season, was one favorite method of usefulness. The first intimation of her coming in was the signal of a general brightening of faces, and her smiles, bestowed upon all, gave fullest satisfaction. While interested in providing employment for each scholar during the session, her chief thought seemed to be, "How can I benefit these immortal souls?" To the utmost would she strive to win their attention to God's Word, to a hymn, or valuable story. Though coming to the school, often weary with labors elsewhere, she would still listen with great patience to the many questions asked, and would bear up cheerfully under the multiplied cares of the hour. But her chief vocation was to visit from house to house. Go out with her into the region assigned. It is no fancy sketch that I draw. Those who have accompanied Mrs. Marsh supply the materials, if not the colors. In her walks through by-ways, after her character had become manifest, words of greeting would everywhere meet her from the little child and from older persons. The young were drawn to her, and for all she had a kind word and a wise word. In the sick-room her presence acted like a charm; the languid eye would brighten, and the name of Jesus was sure to be whispered in the ear. It was as easy for her to pray to our heavenly Father as to speak to any friend; her prayers were earnest, simple, confiding, and appropriate to the occasion and the person. * * * * * Her peculiar field presents phases quite varied, and which quite decisively test character. The concurrent testimony of those who have been associated with Mrs. Marsh more or less intimately, and have seen her in the different departments of Christian work, is that they cannot name a fault in her; that they have been deeply impressed with her singular fitness for such service; that they have found her always calm and collected; that she never seemed surprised at any scene of destitution, or any amount of complaint poured into her patient ear; that she showed herself forbearing and sympathizing, yet watchful and decided; and that, if occasion required,--as occasion sometimes did require,--they found she could be stern. She understood human nature well; character seemed to lie open to her eye. Attempts at concealment or deceit were almost always futile. One had need be master of chicanery to impose upon her. Very few here know what courage there was in that heart. Never otherwise than womanly, never weakly feminine, she exhibited, when there was need, true heroism, a masculine daring of benevolence. She never boasted,--no truly courageous person is ever boastful,--she seldom spoke of what she had done; but there are persons living who know somewhat of a history, in former years especially, that shows the highest style of undaunted, self-forgetting intrepidity. Another characteristic of Mrs. Marsh--and far from being unimportant--was her habit of great exactness in making a written record of articles sent in for gratuitous distribution, and in keeping a detailed account, even to every two-cent purchase, from her "Poor's Purse," which was entirely separate from the mission treasury. * * * * * Her industry was remarkable. It was not fragmentary, occasional, spasmodic; but maintained month by month, year after year, in heat and cold, in rain, snow, and tempest, in weariness, and often in great discomfort walking a long way from her home that she might minister to those in need. After visiting thus from house to house all day, she has frequently sewed till the neighborhood of midnight preparing garments for the destitute. If there are any two stars symbolizing activity and perseverance, it must have been under their conjunction that she was born. Growing old and growing indolent had no affinity in her. It should be borne in mind that almost the whole of this good work amongst us has been performed on borrowed time, since the period of three-score and ten had been reached,--a period which by universal consent is allowed and is usually taken for repose, for remission of all laborious effort. At the hour of her decease last Saturday morning, Mrs. Marsh lacked only thirteen days of being seventy-six. Look at her record for the last year only. Besides being almoner of other comforts and delicacies for the sick and destitute, she distributed more than one thousand two hundred garments and other articles to the needy; more than two thousand religious tracts, papers, books, and the like; and made rising of three thousand visits; which, owing to lameness, was a number less by one thousand than that of the year previous. It should be stated that in early life her constitution and her health seemed not to be firm; and that frequently her toils have been prosecuted amidst no small amount of weakness and even suffering. Hers is one of the cases going to show that nothing conduces more to longevity than benevolent industry. It should also be stated that this perseverance in Christian toil did not stand connected with personal necessities. Children had urged her to withdraw from these labors, and at more than one of their homes is an apartment called "Mother's Room," which has for years stood waiting for her. Loyalty to the Master demanded, as she believed, that all remaining strength should, no less than in former years, be devoted to him. Her life was, to its close, a protest against the prevailing spirit of self-indulgence. Though fully aware that the hour of departure hastened on, she could not bring herself to the pitiful work of merely saving her own soul. There are certain of woman's rights which she strenuously yet modestly vindicated,--her right to quiet benevolent activity, her right to be a ministering angel. You may have noticed that trees and plants, when they feel the approach of decay, sometimes seem to hasten their fruitage just at the last. She was aware that her time was short, and she hastened to make the most of it. And it would be an important omission if the statement were not made that in her views of duty and in her Christian sympathies there was no narrowness. This work of city evangelization was no pet employment. It proceeded from genuine principle, which is always expansive and liberalizing. Her heart went out with special interest to the Home Missionary Society, and yet more toward the foreign fields of the American Board. * * * * * Had our deceased friend the weakness--the comparatively pardonable weakness of vanity? Had the characteristic infirmity of old age come upon her,--a fondness for recounting earlier or more recent labors and successes? From what has been said, you who are strangers to her would hardly expect it, for you have noticed that it is the lighter ears of grain that hold their heads highest, and wave about most freely. Mrs. Marsh was a branch so laden with fruit as to hang low; she was clothed with humility. She sat at the Master's feet. She did not talk about meekness or modesty,--she illustrated them. Moses probably did not know how his face shone as he came down from the mount; our friend seemed not to know how radiant hers was with benevolence; nor how busy were her own feet in errands of kindness. All agree in testifying that this grace of humility shed a sweet, calm lustre over all her other virtues. The only one's faithfulness that she hesitated to speak of was her own; her uniform estimate of herself was, "I am an unprofitable servant." Who ever suspected her of vainglory? Who will say that she was not accustomed to give all glory and praise to God? This quality was too genuine to admit of a sombre tinge. There seemed to be no trace of false spirituality. She exhibited a fine combination of cheerfulness and seriousness. In fact, she had no time for despondency about herself or others. Heart, lips, and hands were too full of something else to admit of moodiness. * * * * * Mrs. Marsh had often expressed a desire that, if it pleased God, she might not outlive active usefulness; that she might die in the harness, might die here amongst us. When two years ago a city missionary in Boston[Footnote: Deacon Wilder.] died suddenly, she said she would like to go in the same way. God has substantially gratified her wish. Now, in all the relations at which we have glanced, and positions as daughter, as head of a family, as head of a charitable institution, as private church-member, as a helpmeet for a Christian minister, and as city missionary, she exhibited the highest order of conscientiousness, and of consecration to God. Have you ever known one who walked more nearly in the steps of our Lord and Saviour, one who did less to please self? Do you recall an acquaintance who appeared to act less from impulse, or more uniformly from an abiding sense of duty, in all quietness and steadfastness doing with her might what the hands found to do? A friend, who has known her intimately for forty years, states,--"I never knew Mrs. Marsh lukewarm or with a cold heart. Her life has been a chain of well doing all along, without one breakage." * * * * * The impression with us is deep, that the character of our deceased friend was in its type a very uncommon one; that by the grace of God it attained to a moral grandeur seldom witnessed. Such concentration, such unselfishness, such devout persistency in endeavors to honor our Lord Jesus Christ raise her to a lofty level. We would institute no comparison between her and the votaries of fashion,--the frivolous, selfish beings, whose thoughts centre chiefly on personal accomplishments and position. "She that liveth in pleasure is dead while she liveth." But for a moment bring to mind those of a more elevated grade, who, by the pen, the pencil, or in the departments of sculpture and music, minister to æsthetic enjoyment, and the mental improvement of a community. Select, if you please, one who attained to the same age with our departed friend, a woman of undoubted talents, of unimpeached morals, the most distinguished tragic actress that England ever produced, and who was applauded to the skies. Let Sarah Kemble Siddons march grandly up that aisle. Ah, to what nothingness does she shrivel in the presence of this heavenly woman, around whom the light of the cross and the glories of eternity gather! Let the present Roman Pontiff, born the same year with this humble city missionary, enter in all his regalia; how does his triple crown grow dim before the crown of righteousness that adorns her head! * * * * * Ten days ago, at the last meeting of the Eliot City Mission Society, Mrs. Marsh, in view of failing strength, sent in her resignation. A committee were appointed to wait upon her, and convey an expression of the general appreciation in which she and her labors are held. They have as yet had no opportunity to do so. They are now present, and will briefly perform the duty assigned them. * * * * * Beloved Friend,--"beloved Persis, who hast labored much in the Lord,"--we speak in behalf of ourselves, and we speak in behalf of multitudes. A church to whom you are endeared, a missionary association bearing an apostolic name, an affectionate and indebted Sabbath school, who are here at this hour, a whole section of our city, many scores of sick-rooms,--German mothers, Holland mothers, mothers from England and Scotland,--bid us say, We all respect you, we love you, we thank God for your coming amongst us. Your prayers have strengthened us; your wise and motherly ministrations have relieved us. The very stones of this rocky place have been worn to smoothness by your busy footsteps. The very dust of our streets is hallowed. Tears fall apace; yet we praise the Lord that there remaineth a rest for his people. "Rest, weary head; Lie down to slumber in the peaceful tomb; Light from above has broken through its gloom; Here in the place where once thy Saviour lay, Where he shall wake thee on a future day,-- Like a tired child upon its mother's breast,-- Rest, sweetly rest. "Rest, spirit free, In the green pastures of the heavenly shore, Where sin and sorrow can approach no more; With all the flock by the Good Shepherd fed, Beside the streams of life eternal led, Forever with thy God and Saviour blest, Rest, sweetly rest." 
34632	----	images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) SELECTED SERMONS OF JONATHAN EDWARDS [Illustration: Jonathan Edwards.] SELECTED SERMONS OF JONATHAN EDWARDS EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY H. NORMAN GARDINER PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN SMITH COLLEGE New York THE MACMILLAN COMPANY LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. 1904 _All rights reserved_ COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. Set up and electrotyped. Published June, 1904. Norwood Press J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. CONTENTS PAGE INTRODUCTION vii SERMONS: I. GOD GLORIFIED IN MAN'S DEPENDENCE (1731) 1 II. THE REALITY OF SPIRITUAL LIGHT (1733) 21 III. RUTH'S RESOLUTION (1735) 45 IV. THE MANY MANSIONS (1737) 64 V. SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD (1741) 78 VI. A STRONG ROD BROKEN AND WITHERED (1748) 98 VII. FAREWELL SERMON (1750) 118 NOTES 155 INTRODUCTION Jonathan Edwards was born October 5, 1703, in what is now South Windsor, Conn., a part of the parish then known as "Windsor Farmes." His father, the Rev. Timothy Edwards, the minister of the parish, a Harvard graduate, was reputed a man of superior ability and polished manners, a lover of learning as well as of religion; in addition to his pastoral duties, he fitted young men for college, and his liberal views of education appear in the fact that he made his daughters pursue the same studies these youths did. His mother, a daughter of the Rev. Solomon Stoddard, the minister of Northampton, is said to have resembled her distinguished father in strength of character and to have surpassed her husband in the native vigor of her mind. As regards remoter ancestry and their intellectual and moral qualities, Edwards seems also to have been well born; an exception, however, must be made of the eccentric and possibly insane grandmother on his father's side, whose outrageous conduct led to her divorce.[1] Brought up the only son in a family of ten daughters, apart from all distracting influences, in an atmosphere of religion and serious study in the home, amid natural surroundings of meadows, woods, and low-lying distant hills singularly conducive to a life of contemplation, the boy early developed that absorbing interest in the things of the spirit, and that astonishing acuteness of intellect which are the most prominent characteristics of his genius. While a mere child he spent much of his time in religious exercises and in conversation on religious matters with other boys, with some of whom he joined to build a booth in a retired spot in a swamp for secret prayer; he had besides several other such places for prayer in the woods to which he was wont to retire. His mind also dwelt much on the doctrines he was taught, especially on the doctrine of God's sovereignty in election, against which he at that time violently rebelled. When only ten years of age he wrote a short, quaint, somewhat humorous little tract on the immortality of the soul; at about twelve he composed a remarkably accurate and ingenious paper on the habits of the "flying spider." He entered the Collegiate School of Connecticut at Saybrook--afterwards Yale College--at thirteen, and in 1720, shortly before his seventeenth birthday, graduated at New Haven with the valedictory. In his Sophomore year he made the acquaintance of Locke's _Essay on the Human Understanding_--a work which left a permanent impress on his thinking. He read it, he says, with a far higher pleasure "than the most greedy miser finds when gathering up handfuls of silver and gold from some newly-discovered treasure." Under its influence he began a series of Notes on the Mind, with a view to a comprehensive treatise on mental philosophy. He also began, possibly somewhat later, a series of Notes on Natural Science, with reference to a similar work on natural philosophy. It is in these early writings that we find the outlines of an idealistic theory which resembles, but was probably not at all derived from, that of Berkeley, and which seems to have remained a determining factor in his speculations to the last.[2] After graduating he continued to reside for two years in New Haven, studying for the ministry. From August, 1722, till the following April he supplied the pulpit of a small Presbyterian congregation in New York, but declined the invitation to remain as their minister. After returning to his father's home in Windsor, he received at least two other calls, one of which he seems to have accepted.[3] In September, 1723, he went to New Haven to receive his Master's degree, was appointed a tutor at the college, entered upon the active duties of that office in June, 1724, and continued in the same till September, 1726, when he resigned his tutorship to become colleague-pastor with his grandfather Stoddard in the church at Northampton. The spiritual history of Edwards in these years of growth from youth to early manhood is recorded by his own hand in a narrative of personal experiences written at a later date for his own use, in fragments of a diary, and in a series of resolutions which he drew up for the conduct of his own life. These documents, which were first published by his biographer and descendant, Sereno E. Dwight, in 1829, throw a flood of light on Edwards's character and temperament, and serve to explain much in his life which would otherwise be obscure. He tells us in his narrative how the childish delight in the exercises of religion before referred to gradually declined; how at length "he turned like a dog to his vomit, and went on in the ways of sin;" then how, after much conflict of soul, he experienced toward the end of his college course a genuine conversion, issuing in a new life and, in the course of time, a deep and delightful sense of God's sovereignty, the excellency of Christ, and the beauty of holiness. There is possibly some exaggeration in Edwards's description of this lapse and this recovery, but it was at least a very real experience to him, and it doubtless contributed to the emphasis which he afterwards put on conversion in his preaching. His own state after this decisive change was at times one of mystic rapture--"a calm, sweet abstraction of soul from all the concerns of this world; and sometimes a kind of vision, or fixed ideas and imaginations, of being alone in the mountains or some solitary wilderness, far from all mankind, sweetly conversing with Christ and wrapped and swallowed up in God." His diary is the record of a soul straining in its flight. He watches the fluctuations of his moods with almost morbid intensity, and yet in a way by no means merely conventional, and with a singular absence of sentimentality, so evidently sincere and, in a sense, objective are his observations. Of his seventy Resolutions, all written before he was twenty, the following may be taken as a specimen: it is the language of a mind as truly original as religious, and is eminently characteristic. "On the supposition that there never was to be but one individual in the world, at any one time, who was properly a complete Christian, in all respects of a right stamp, having Christianity always shining in its true lustre, and appearing excellent and lovely, from whatever part and under whatever character viewed, _Resolved_: To act just as I would do, if I strove with all my might to be that one, who should live in my time." And he did so act; these resolutions were not empty, they really determined his life. Edwards was ordained at Northampton, February 15, 1727, being then in his twenty-fourth year. Five months later, July 28, he married the beautiful Sarah Pierrepont, then seventeen, the daughter of the Rev. James Pierrepont, of New Haven, one of the founders, and a prominent trustee, of Yale College, and on her mother's side, the great-granddaughter of Thomas Hooker, "the father of the Connecticut churches." Edwards's description of her, written four years before their marriage, is famous.[4] The union proved a singularly happy one, the intelligence, cheerfulness, piety, and practical sagacity of Mrs. Edwards combining to make her at once a congenial companion and a most useful helpmeet to her zealously devout, highly intellectual, but often low-spirited husband, immersed in his writings and his books. They had twelve children, all born in Northampton. Mr. Stoddard died February 11, 1729, leaving the young minister in full pastoral charge. It was a responsible undertaking for so young a man to guide the affairs of a church reputed the largest and wealthiest in the colony outside of Boston, one too on which the venerable and venerated Stoddard had stamped the impress of his strong personality during a ministry of nearly sixty years. Edwards, as he later confesses, made mistakes. Nevertheless, he succeeded in winning and holding the confidence, admiration, and affection of the people during the greater part of the twenty-three years of his ministry in Northampton. He carried the church through two great periods of revival (1734-35, 1740-42), and added over five hundred and fifty names to its membership.[5] This, however, represents but a small part of his influence in these years. Both by his preaching in Northampton and elsewhere and by his published writings, notably his printed sermons and his works dealing with the revivals, in which must be included his treatise on the Religious Affections, he powerfully affected the currents of religious thought and life throughout New England and the neighboring colonies and, to some extent also, in England and Scotland. His mission had been to recall the Puritan churches, which for some seventy years had languished in a period of decline, to the old high Puritan standards both of creed and of conduct, and to infuse into them a new spirit of vital piety. In this he was largely successful; and still to-day, in spite of wide departures from his theological system, he remains an effectual spiritual force in the churches inheriting the Puritan tradition. The estrangement between Edwards and his people began in 1744, in connection with a case of discipline in which a large number of the youth belonging to the leading families of the town were brought under suspicion of reading and circulating immoral books.[6] During the excitement of the revival the people had willingly accepted his high demands. But now, in the reaction, flesh and blood rebelled. Edwards, however, was not the man to accommodate the claims of religion, as he conceived those claims, to the weaknesses of human nature. It would not be strange if, under the circumstances, the people looked on their minister as something of a spiritual dictator, exercising a kind of spiritual tyranny. Still, this feeling, so far as it then existed, was not likely to have led to an open rupture, had it not been that four years later, on occasion of an application--the first in those years--for membership in the church, Edwards sought to impose a new test of qualification. He required, namely, that the candidate for full communion should give evidence of being converted, and as such converted person, should make a public profession of godliness. This restriction ran counter to the principles and usage established by Mr. Stoddard, accepted by most of the neighboring churches, and hitherto followed by Edwards himself, according to which, not only might persons be admitted to church membership on the terms of the "Halfway Covenant," but they might come to the Lord's Supper, if they desired to do so, even without the assurance of conversion, the hope being that the rite might itself prove a converting ordinance. Edwards was now openly charged with seeking to lord it over the brethren, and the indignation was intense. He, on his part, was convinced of the correctness of his position, and was prepared to maintain it at all costs. The unhappy controversy lasted for two years: Edwards dignified, courteous, disposed to be conciliatory, yet insisting on the recognition of his rights, and showing throughout his great moral and intellectual superiority; the people prejudiced, obstinate, refusing even to consider his views or to allow him to set them forth in the pulpit, bent only on getting rid of him. Finally, on June 22, 1750, the Council, convened to advise on the matter, recommended, by a vote of 10 to 9, the minority protesting, that the pastoral relations should be dissolved. The concurrent sentiment of the church was expressed by the overwhelming vote of about 200 to 20 of the male members. The next Sunday but one Edwards preached his Farewell Sermon.[7] Edwards was now forty-six years of age, unfitted, as he says, for any other business but study, and with a "numerous and chargeable family" to face the world with. The long controversy and the circumstances attending the dismissal had had a depressing effect on his spirits, and the outlook seemed to him gloomy in the extreme. But his trust was in God, and friends did not fail. From Scotland came the offer of assistance in procuring him a charge there; his Northampton adherents desired him to remain and form a separate church in the town. Early in December he received a call from the little church in Stockbridge, on the frontier, and about the same time an invitation from the Commissioners in Boston of the "Society in London for Propagating the Gospel in New England and the parts adjacent" to become their missionary to the Indians, who then formed a large part of the Stockbridge settlement. After acquainting himself by a residence of several months in Stockbridge with the conditions of the work, and after receiving satisfactory assurances, in a personal interview with the Governor, with regard to the conduct of the Indian mission, he accepted both of these proposals. He had scarcely done so when he received a call, with the promise of generous support, from a church in Virginia. The opposition which had driven him from Northampton followed him to Stockbridge. For several years a persistent effort was made to obstruct his work, particularly his work among the Indians, and even to secure his removal. But he successfully met this opposition, won the confidence of the Indians, and greatly endeared himself to the "English." Here, too, in the wilderness he found time and opportunity for the writing of those great treatises on the Freedom of the Will, on the End for which God created the World, on the Nature of True Virtue, and on the Christian Doctrine of Original Sin, which are the principal foundation of his theological reputation. Meanwhile an event had occurred in Edwards's family destined to have important consequences--the marriage of his daughter Esther to the Rev. Aaron Burr, President of Nassau Hall, in Princeton.[8] In September, 1757, Mr. Burr died; two days later, the Corporation appointed Edwards as his successor. Edwards was for various reasons reluctant to accept the appointment; he mistrusted his fitness, he especially feared that the duties of the office would seriously interrupt the literary work in which he was now engrossed. Nevertheless, on the recommendation of a Council called at his desire to advise in the matter, he accepted the call. He left Stockbridge in January, and toward the end of the month reached Princeton. But the only work he did as President of the College was to preach for five or six Sundays and to give out themes in divinity to the Senior Class, with whom he afterwards discussed their papers on them. The small-pox was epidemic in the town when he arrived, and as a precautionary measure he had himself inoculated. The disease, mild at first, developed badly, and on March 22, 1758, he died. From his death-bed he sent this tender and characteristic message to his wife, who was still in Stockbridge: "Give my kindest love to my dear wife, and tell her that the uncommon union, which has so long subsisted between us, has been of such a nature, as, I trust, is spiritual, and therefore will continue forever." His last words, also characteristic, were, "Trust in God, and ye need not fear." A tall, spare man, with high, broad forehead, clear piercing eyes, prominent nose, thin, set lips and a rather weak chin, his whole appearance suggested the perspicacity of intellect and the integrity, refinement, and benevolence of character of one possessing little physical energy, little suited to practical affairs, but intensely alive in the spirit, intensely absorbed in the contemplation of things invisible and eternal. The two qualities, indeed, for which he is most distinguished are spirituality and intellectuality. Spiritual-mindedness was the very core and essence of his being. Religion was his element. God was to him absolute Reality; His will and His thoughts alone constituted the ultimate truth and meaning of things. Nor was this with Edwards a mere philosophical speculation; it was the high region in which he drew vital breath, the solid ground on which he walked. He walked with God. He has been called the "Saint of New England." Like other saints, he too has on occasion his ecstasies.[9] To this high spirituality, with its rich emotional coloring, was united a power and subtlety of intellect such as is possessed by only the very greatest masters of the mind. The spiritual world in which Edwards moved was for him no mere shadowy realm of pious sentiment or vague aspiration, but a world whose main outlines, at least, were sharply defined for thought. He conceived it, namely, in accordance with the scheme of things systematized by Calvin, but originally wrought out with the compelling force of transcendent genius by Augustine. The theological thought of Augustine is concerned--to put the matter as simply as possible--with the elaboration of four fundamental ideas: the absolute sovereignty of God; the absolute dependence of man; the supernatural revelation of a divinely originated plan of salvation administered by the Church; and a philosophy of history according to which the whole created universe and the entire temporal course of events are ordered and governed from all eternity with reference to the establishment and triumph of a Kingdom of saints in the Church, the holy "City of God." Augustine's conception of the Church is modified, but not in principle rejected, by the Protestant theologians; the other features of the scheme remain substantially unchanged. The idea of God's absolute sovereignty leads naturally, in connection with the motives supplied by certain teachings of Scripture, Roman jurisprudence, Greek philosophy, and the experiences of a profound religious consciousness, to the doctrines of God's eternal foreknowledge, His "arbitrary," i.e., unconditional decrees,--the eternal world-plan,--predestination, election, the historic work of redemption, everlasting punishment for the unrepentant wicked, everlasting felicity for the elect saints. Over against the sovereignty of God stands man's absolute dependence, historically conditioned, as regards his present spiritual capacities, by the Fall, with original sin, total depravity, and the utter inability of man to recover by himself his lost heritage as its consequence. Hence the great, the essential tragedy of human life--man naturally corrupt, in slavery to sin, at enmity with God, utterly incompetent to change a condition in which, by a sort of natural necessity, he is the subject of God's vindictive justice, utterly dependent for salvation on the free, unmerited grace of God, who has mercy on whom He will have mercy, while whom He will He hardeneth, revealing alike in mercy and in punishment the majesty of His divine and sovereign attributes. This, in general, is the scheme which Edwards stands for, he most conspicuously of all men of modern times. His speculative genius gave to this scheme a metaphysical background, his logical acumen elaboration and defence. He modified it in some respects, e.g., in his doctrine of the will. What is more important, he gave a prominence to the inward state of man--the dispositions and affections of his mind and heart--which appreciably affected the relative values of the scheme, and which has, in fact, changed the entire complexion of the religious thought of New England. But as to the general scheme itself, the philosophy of religion, the philosophy of life it expresses, there is nothing in that which is essentially original with Edwards. In standing for these doctrines he but champions the great orthodox tradition. But however little original may be the content of his thought, there is nothing that is not in the highest degree original in his manner of thinking. The significant thing about Edwards is the way he enters into the tradition, infuses it with his personality and makes it live. The vitality of his thought gives to its product the value of a unique creation. Two qualities in him especially contribute to this result, large constructive imagination and a marvellously acute power of abstract reasoning. With the vision of the seer he looks steadily upon his world, which is the world of all time and space and existence, and sees it as a whole; God and souls are in it the great realities, and the transactions between them the great business in which all its movement is concerned; and this movement has in it nothing haphazard, it is eternally determined with reference to a supreme and glorious end, the manifestation of the excellency of God, the highest excellency of being. All the dark and tragic aspects of the vision, which for him is intensely real, take their place along with the other aspects, in a system, a system wherein every part derives meaning and worth from its relation to the whole. People have wondered how Edwards, the gentlest of men, could contemplate, as he said he did, with sweetness and delight, the awful doctrine of the divine sovereignty interpreted, as he interpreted it, as implying the everlasting misery of a large part of the human race. The reason is no revolting indifference, callous and inhuman, to suffering; the reason is rather the personal detachment, the disinterested interest, the freedom from the "pathetic fallacy" of the great poet, the great constructive thinker. It is this large quality in Edwards's imagination which is one source of his power. Another is the thoroughness and ability with which he intellectually elaborates the details of his scheme. He wrote, indeed, no system of divinity; yet he is the very opposite of a fragmentary thinker, and few minds have been less episodic than was his. His intellectual constructions are large and solid. Of the doctrines with which he deals, he leaves nothing undeveloped; with infinite patience he pushes his inquiries into every minute detail and remote consequence, putting his adversaries to confusion by the unremitting attack, the overwhelming massiveness of the argument. Rarely indeed can one escape his conclusions who accepts his premises. Moreover, by the thoroughness, acuteness and sincerity of his reasoning he powerfully stimulates the intellectual faculties. Even in his most terrific sermons he never appeals to mere hope and fear, nor to mere authority; in them, as in his theological treatises, he is bent on demonstrating, within the limits prescribed by the underlying assumptions, the reasonableness of his doctrine, its agreement with the facts of life and the constitution of things, as well as with the inspired teachings of the Word. Now these qualities appear, as in his other writings, so also, and perhaps most conspicuously, in his sermons. Edwards's chief public work and his chief reputation in his lifetime was as a preacher; the fame of his theological treatises is largely, indeed, posthumous. He was a great preacher. In the case of many of the older divines, it is difficult for us now to understand how they could ever have been considered great preachers: to us their sermons seem dry and insipid. But it is not so with Edwards. Even in print, after more than a hundred and fifty years, and notwithstanding the gulf which separates our age from his, his sermons are still deeply interesting. They are interesting because, among other things, they reveal a great and interesting personality. They are instinct with the energy of his intellect, they are vital with the vital touch of his genius. He preached his theology; some of his sermons--for instance, the sermon, or rather combination of sermons, on Justification by Faith--seem to be less sermons than highly elaborate theological disquisitions, adapted to the use of professional students. And there is doubtless no sermon of his which does not reflect, to some extent, his theological system. Edwards was certainly impressed with The Importance and Advantage of a Thorough Knowledge of Divine Truth--the theme and title of one of his ablest discourses. He held that God had revealed Himself not only to the heart, but to the mind of man, and that an intelligent apprehension of the revelation was indispensable, in some measure, alike to saving faith and to the development of Christian character. But it would be a mistake to think of Edwards as preaching the dry bones of his theology. He was far, indeed, from supposing, as some now seem to suppose, that a Christian society can be the more perfectly organized in proportion as all definiteness of theological, that is, distinctively religious, conceptions is eliminated. He had too profound a respect for the intellect to exclude it from matters of the deepest speculative as well as practical moment, and he had too lofty an idea of religion to identify it either with vague, transcendental emotion or with merely personal, social, or political morality. His sermons, however, are by no means all of one type. On the contrary, they are of a great variety of types. They are "doctrinal," "practical," "experimental," and--taking into account the unpublished manuscripts--there is an unusually large number of "occasional" sermons.[10] And there are a good many varieties within the types. But even when the sermons are most "doctrinal," the practical interest of a _living_ conviction of the truth is never absent. The abstract antithesis of thought and life, of theory and practice, as though thinking were not itself a doing or as though an attitude toward truth were not itself practical or capable of determining other practical attitudes, is an error from which Edwards is wholesomely free. To say this is not necessarily to approve the content of his doctrinal preaching. The thought of the churches with which Edwards was associated has moved away from his thought. He contended stoutly for his scheme of things, but he fought, it would seem, a losing fight. It is not that he has been refuted by abstract logic; the argument by which he has been set aside, so far as he has been set aside, is the logic of events. The change has been brought about no doubt by many influences. Some of them seem purely sentimental. But there are two things at least of fundamental divergence in the character of our time--the development in us of a critically disciplined historical sense and the dominating influence in our modern science and philosophy of the idea of evolution. These have broken down those hard and fast distinctions between nature and the supernatural, nature and grace, human reason and divine revelation in which Edwards delighted, at least in the form in which he habitually preached them. With the establishment, on the lines of historical criticism, of new canons of exegesis in the interpretation of Scripture and with the gradual disappearance of the idea of the Bible as an external authority, Protestant Christianity is at present confronting the question, whether the entire claim of Christianity to be a supernatural revelation, in the sense in which the term "supernatural" is used by orthodox theologians, has not been misplaced. This is a question which Edwards never raises and which he does not help us directly to solve. He has the mind of a speculative philosopher, has a very profound thought of God, grasps firmly the eternal spiritual significance of things; but he is deficient in the historical sense--his History of Redemption is a wholly uncritical, dogmatic construction, and he is not speculative enough to find, or at least he works under conditions which prevent him from showing, the mediating principles by which the antitheses and contradictions of experience and theory can be reconciled and annulled. But to return to the sermons. Edwards's sermons are constructed, in general, on a definite model. We have, first, the Exposition of the text. We have, secondly, a clearly formulated statement of the Doctrine, which is then developed under its appropriate and preannounced divisions. Finally, we have what is variously called the Improvement, Use, or Application, similarly developed. The "Doctrine" is not usually an abstract theological dogma: it is simply the theme of the discourse stated in propositional form. Thus an unpublished sermon on John i. 41, 42 has this for its statement of doctrine: "When persons have truly come to Christ themselves, they naturally desire to bring others also to him." Another unpublished sermon on John iii. 7 has this: "'Tis no wonder that Christ said that we must be born again." In another--also unpublished--from the text John i. 47 the doctrine is the similarly simple statement, "'Tis a great thing to be indeed a converted person." Sometimes, though rarely, the statement of a doctrine is omitted altogether, the text itself being regarded as sufficiently defining the subject.[11] This, however, is never the case with the Application. Indeed, so "practical" is Edwards in his preaching that the Application is sometimes much the larger part of the discourse. In the sermon on John i. 47, for example, it fills about two-thirds of the manuscript. In fact, the proportion of these parts, Exposition, Development of Doctrine and Application, depends entirely on the nature of the theme and the special ends of the sermon. And similarly of the length and number of the subdivisions. One feature is constant--strictly logical arrangement. However finely articulated the sermons may be, they are constructed so as to make a distinctly unified impression. Nor is this unity of impression seriously interfered with, as a rule, by the length of the sermon. Edwards was not in the habit of exhausting the attention of his audience. Occasionally, however, he would develop his theme through two or more sermons. When these appear in the printed editions as a single discourse, the length naturally seems inordinate. In the manuscripts the parts of such compound sermons are indicated by the word "Doc" (Doctrine) at the divisions, suggesting that the preacher was wont, in renewing the theme, to remind his hearers of the precise nature of the subject under discussion.[12] And as there was no confusion in the thought, so the style of Edwards's sermons is singularly clear, simple and unstudied. He affects no graces, seeks no adornments, which the subject-matter itself and his interest in it do not naturally lend. "The style is the man" is a saying which peculiarly applies to him. The nobility, strength and directness of his thought, the vividness and largeness of his imagination, the truthfulness and elevation of his character, the intensity of his convictions, his impassioned earnestness are reflected in his discourses. They seem to have been to an unusual degree a spontaneous form of self-expression. But attention is never diverted from the subject to the skill of the workmanship. The object is not to delight, but to convince, and the attainment of this end is sought by direct methods of argument, persuasion and appeal. Yet the style, though simple and straightforward, is very far from being barren. The sermons are full of great, rich, beautiful words; and there are many passages in them of wonderful charm as well as many of great sublimity and rhetorical power. But Edwards's interest in these seems never merely verbal. He is not a maker of phrases. He makes use of striking metaphor and startling antithesis, his style is often picturesque, he well knows the rhetorical value of iteration, when the repeated phrase is employed in a varied context; but he never seeks to produce his effects by literary indirection. He can be easy, familiar, colloquial even, on occasion, if that suits his purpose; but he is never undignified, never vulgarly sensational, nor does he seem ever to be intentionally humorous. The construction of his sentences is often such as the pedantry of modern standards would condemn; but however old-fashioned, it is seldom indeed that the expression can be called whimsical or quaint. The most determining external influence on his style was unquestionably the old, so-called King James version of the English Bible. His language is saturated with its thought and phraseology. And as he is intimately acquainted with it in all its parts, so he is continually quoting it and constantly surprising us with fresh discoveries, in novel collocations, of its variety, beauty and impressiveness. He was influenced also doubtless by his too exclusively theological and philosophical reading. But it is, in the end, the originality of his own genius, the depth and subtlety and force of his mind and the richness of his spiritual experiences, which we must regard as setting the stamp upon his style. Edwards's sermons are hall-marked: they have not only interest as historical memorials of the religious conditions of their time; as the personal expressions of an original mind, working in traditional material, indeed, but animating and so refashioning it with the unique form of a great personality, they have also the value of literature. Largely to the union of the intellectual and emotional elements mentioned--the definiteness of the message, the logical unity of the thought, the singleness and sincerity of the aim, the intensity of the conviction, the thorough knowledge of Scripture, the profound acquaintance, through personal experience, of the religious movings of the human heart--must be attributed, in connection with the state of religious thought and feeling of the time and the respect aroused by the character of the preacher, the power which he exercised on his contemporaries. Of his manner of preaching we have from his pupil, Hopkins, the following authentic testimony. "His appearance in the desk was with a good grace, and his delivery easy, natural and very solemn. He had not a strong, loud voice, but appeared with such gravity and solemnity, and spake with such distinctness, clearness and precision, his words were so full of ideas, set in such a plain and striking light, that few speakers have been so able to demand the attention of an audience as he. His words often discovered a great degree of inward fervor, without much noise or external emotion, and fell with great weight on the minds of his hearers. He made but little motion of his head or hands in the desk, but spake as to discover the motion of his own heart, which tended in the most natural and effectual manner to move and affect others. "As he wrote his sermons out at large for many years, and always wrote a considerable part of most of his public discourses, so he carried his notes into the desk with him, and read the most that he wrote; yet he was not so confined to his notes, when he wrote at large, but that, if some thoughts were suggested, while he was speaking, which did not occur when writing, and appeared to him pertinent and striking, he would deliver them; and that with as great propriety, and oftener with greater pathos, and attended with a more sensible good effect on his hearers, than all he had wrote."[13] * * * * * The sermons in the present volume have been selected as representative of Edwards the preacher rather than of Edwards the theologian. Any such collection must include at least the following four: the sermon on Man's Dependence, the sermon on Spiritual Light, the Enfield Sermon and the Farewell Sermon. These are classic. Moreover, they represent Edwards in four of his most distinguishing aspects: as the powerful champion of a theology resting ultimately on the principle of a transcendent, righteous, sovereign Will; as the equally convinced advocate of the mystical principle of an immediate, intuitive apprehension, through supernatural illumination, of divine truth; as the flaming revivalist, with pitiless logic and terrible realism of description, arousing, startling, overwhelming the sinner with the sense of impending doom; finally, as the rejected minister appealing, without rancor or bitterness, from the judgment of this world to the judgment of an infallible tribunal and displaying what must ever make him more interesting, more precious as a heritage to the Church and the world, than any of his opinions or his works, the dignity and repose, the patience, strength and depth of a great character, perfected through suffering and apparent defeat, in what was virtually the Apologia of his ministerial life. These sermons alone would suffice to justify Edwards's reputation as the foremost preacher of his age. Still, they cannot, of course, be taken as adequately representing the whole range and power of his discourses. In particular, the Enfield sermon, which has loomed so large in the popular imagination of Jonathan Edwards, and which, in fact, is but one--to be sure, the most extreme--of a number of the same type, cannot be taken as fairly representative even of Edwards's revival sermons. There has, therefore, been added, in this reference, a revival sermon of another type, the sermon on Ruth's Resolution. This sermon was chosen, not because it is better than some others, but because, while being an excellent sermon of its kind, it is also brief, and so better adapted to the scope of this volume. There has been further added, as representing a type distinctly different from any of the others, the funeral sermon entitled A Strong Rod Broken and Withered, which is certainly one of the noblest, in thought and expression, of Edwards's discourses, and which is probably unique among his writings as dealing with the subject of civil government and the management of affairs. Had space permitted, the picture of the Christian statesman in this sermon might have been matched by the picture of the Christian minister in one of the ordination sermons; but the omission is the less serious since the conception is so largely realized in Edwards himself. The above six sermons were selected independently of the fact that they are among the ten published by their author; but this circumstance confirms the choice and, moreover, serves to authenticate the text. Edwards has suffered not a little at the hands of his editors, particularly Dwight, who seems to have been possessed by the idea that his author would appear to better advantage in a style and language more elegant and refined. "Don't do as Orpah did," pleads Edwards in the Ruth sermon; "Do not as Orpah did," is the feeble refinement of his editor. But even the generally accurate Worcester or First American Edition (1809) is not to be implicitly trusted; for instance, two whole pages are omitted at the end of the Enfield sermon, giving to that sermon a startling and bizarre close, wholly out of keeping with Edwards's habitual manner. Later editions import other errors and, even while professing to follow the Worcester edition, sometimes, in fact, follow not that edition, but Dwight's (e.g., in the Ruth sermon). The present text is based upon a careful comparison of the original editions, now very scarce, in the Boston Athenæum. The original expressions, 'tis, won't, don't, etc., as Edwards himself printed them, have been restored, a number of verbal errors in the later editions corrected and several omitted lines recovered, besides the long passage already mentioned, which is, however, in Dwight, at the end of the Enfield sermon. No attempt, however, has been made to give a facsimile reproduction of the first editions with all their printer's errors, capricious spelling, antiquated punctuation and uncouth use of capitals and italics. These externalities could but distract the modern reader, while adding nothing essential to accuracy. In these respects, therefore, the more modern usage has been followed. The aim has simply been to give the exact words of the originals and to preserve their spirit, treating the sermons as sermons to be preached and not as essays to be read. Accordingly, while avoiding the extremes of the first editions, italics have been used where Edwards used them to mark divisions, or for special emphasis, somewhat more freely than would be customary now. This edition also follows his, and the Biblical, use of ordinary type in personal pronouns referring to divine beings, the verbal reverence in the modern use of capitals being regarded as needless to enhance the real reverence of Edwards's thought and possibly a little out of place. Added words are enclosed within square brackets. Besides the six sermons mentioned, the present collection includes one, the interesting if not exactly great sermon on the Many Mansions, which has not before been published. A copy of this sermon made for the late Professor Edwards A. Park, of Andover, was kindly put at the disposal of the editor by his son, the Rev. Dr. William E. Park, of Gloversville, N.Y.; but it has also been carefully collated with the original manuscript. The editor has also examined the original manuscripts of all the other sermons in this volume, except that of the Farewell Sermon, which could not be discovered. These manuscripts are all in the collection of between eleven and twelve hundred of Edwards's sermons now in the Yale University Library. Most of these manuscripts are written in an exceedingly minute hand, with many abbreviations and occasionally with insertions in shorthand, on sheets of paper about 3-5/8 � 4-1/8 in. in size, stoutly stitched together. The facsimile of the first page of the sermon on Spiritual Light given in this volume opposite p. 21 is representative; a relatively small number are slightly larger. Of the particular manuscripts some account will be found in the notes. The handling and deciphering of these manuscripts give one a curious sense of intimacy with the working of Edwards's brain and heart: one is with him in his workshop and sees, as it were, the very thing in the making. One seems to feel the intensity of the excitement as, with his audience present in imagination, and with keen delight in the activity of literary creation, he works out his theme. One observes how alternative forms of expression, alternative lines of development, suggest themselves, and how now whole paragraphs, whole pages are struck off at white heat, while now, oftenest towards the end, the barest outlines are jotted down, to be filled out in delivery. But the manuscripts of the sermons which Edwards himself published afford no help in the fixing of the text. The sermons as he printed them are invariably expanded and often greatly altered in other respects; and the copy prepared for the printer is no longer extant.[14] This circumstance should not be overlooked in judging of sermons printed directly from the manuscripts. In the Yale collection, there are sermons which were written out pretty fully; others are only fairly fully written out in parts, others again are mere skeletons. The majority of those of the Northampton period are of the second sort. Among the hundreds of Edwards's unpublished sermons, there are doubtless many that it would be interesting to have in print just as they stand; it is doubtful if there are any which would add materially to his reputation as a preacher in comparison with the great sermons already published. The portrait of Edwards in this volume is from a recent photograph of the original painting of 1740. The photograph was kindly furnished by the present owner of the painting, Mr. Eugene P. Edwards, of Chicago, to whom the editor takes this opportunity of expressing his obligations. He also desires to express his thanks to Dr. William E. Park for the use of the copy of the sermon on the Many Mansions; to the publishers for allowing the extra space required for printing this new sermon; to Professor Franklin B. Dexter for generous help in the study of the manuscripts and for permission to photograph the sermon on Spiritual Light; to Mr. Charles K. Bolton, Librarian of the Boston Athenæum, for courtesies in the use of the first editions; and to Mr. George N. Whipple of Boston, for verifying a number of references. NORTHAMPTON, MASS., March, 1904. SELECTED SERMONS OF JONATHAN EDWARDS I GOD GLORIFIED IN MAN'S DEPENDENCE° 1 COR. i. 29-31.--That no flesh should glory in his presence. But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption: that according as it is written, He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord. Those Christians to whom the apostle directed this epistle dwelt in a part of the world where human wisdom was in great repute; as the apostle observes in the 22d verse of this chapter, "The Greeks seek after wisdom." Corinth was not far from Athens, that had been for many ages the most famous seat of philosophy and learning in the world. The apostle therefore observes to them how that God, by the gospel, destroyed and brought to nought their human wisdom. The learned Grecians and their great philosophers by all their wisdom did not know God: they were not able to find out the truth in divine things. But after they had done their utmost to no effect, it pleased God at length to reveal himself by the gospel, which they accounted foolishness. He "chose the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty, and the base things of the world, and things that are despised, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought the things that are." And the apostle informs them why he thus did, in the verse of the text: _That no flesh should glory in his presence_, &c. In which words may be observed, 1. What God aims at in the disposition of things in the affair of redemption, viz., that man should not glory in himself, but alone in God: _That no flesh should glory in his presence,--that, according as it is written, He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord_. 2. How this end is attained in the work of redemption, viz., by that absolute and immediate dependence which men have upon God in that work for all their good. Inasmuch as, First, All the good that they have is in and through Christ; _he is made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption_. All the good of the fallen and redeemed creature is concerned in these four things, and cannot be better distributed than into them; but Christ is each of them to us, and we have none of them any otherwise than in him. _He is made of God unto us wisdom_: in him are all the proper good and true excellency of the understanding. Wisdom was a thing that the Greeks admired; but Christ is the true light of the world, it is through him alone that true wisdom is imparted to the mind. 'Tis in and by Christ that we have _righteousness_: it is by being in him that we are justified, have our sins pardoned, and are received as righteous into God's favor. 'Tis by Christ that we have _sanctification_: we have in him true excellency of heart as well as of understanding; and he is made unto us inherent, as well as imputed righteousness. 'Tis by Christ that we have _redemption_, or actual deliverance from all misery, and the bestowment of all happiness and glory. Thus we have all our good by Christ, who is God. Secondly, Another instance wherein our dependence on God for all our good appears, is this, that it is God that has given us Christ, that we might have these benefits through him; he _of God is made unto us wisdom, righteousness_, &c. Thirdly, 'Tis _of him_ that we are in Christ Jesus, and come to have an interest in him, and so do receive those blessings which he is made unto us. It is God that gives us faith whereby we close with Christ. So that in this verse is shown our dependence on each person in the Trinity for all our good. We are dependent on Christ the Son of God, as he is our wisdom, righteousness, sanctification and redemption. We are dependent on the Father, who has given us Christ, and made him to be these things to us. We are dependent on the Holy Ghost, for 'tis _of him that we are in Christ Jesus_; 'tis the Spirit of God that gives faith in him, whereby we receive him and close with him. DOCTRINE _God is glorified in the work of redemption in this, that there appears in it so absolute and universal a dependence of the redeemed on him._ Here I propose to show, I., That there is an absolute and universal dependence of the redeemed on God for all their good. And II., That God hereby is exalted and glorified in the work of redemption. I. There is an absolute and universal dependence of the redeemed on God. The nature and contrivance of our redemption is such, that the redeemed are in every thing directly, immediately and entirely dependent on God: they are dependent on him for all, and are dependent on him every way. The several ways wherein the dependence of one being may be upon another for its good, and wherein the redeemed of Jesus Christ depend on God for all their good, are these, viz., that they have all their good _of_ him, and that they have all _through_ him, and that they have all _in_ him. That he is the cause and original whence all their good comes, therein it is _of_ him; and that he is the medium by which it is obtained and conveyed, therein they have it _through_ him; and that he is that good itself that is given and conveyed, therein it is _in_ him. Now those that are redeemed by Jesus Christ do, in all these respects, very directly and entirely depend on God for their all. First, The redeemed have all their good _of_ God; God is the great author of it; he is the first cause of it, and not only so, but he is the only proper cause. 'Tis of God that we have our Redeemer: it is God that has provided a Saviour for us. Jesus Christ is not only of God in his person, as he is the only begotten Son of God, but he is from God, as we are concerned in him and in his office of Mediator: he is the gift of God to us: God chose and anointed him, appointed him his work, and sent him into the world. And as it is God that gives, so 'tis God that accepts the Saviour. As it is God that provides and gives the Redeemer to buy salvation for us, so it is of God that salvation is bought: he gives the purchaser, and he affords the thing purchased. 'Tis of God that Christ becomes ours, that we are brought to him and are united to him: it is of God that we receive faith to close with him, that we may have an interest in him. Eph. ii. 8, "For by grace ye are saved, through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God." 'Tis of God that we actually do receive all the benefits that Christ has purchased. 'Tis God that pardons and justifies, and delivers from going down to hell, and it is his favor that the redeemed are received into, and are made the objects of, when they are justified. So it is God that delivers from the dominion of sin, and cleanses us from our filthiness, and changes us from our deformity. It is of God that the redeemed do receive all their true excellency, wisdom and holiness; and that two ways, viz., as the Holy Ghost, by whom these things are immediately wrought, is from God, proceeds from him and is sent by him; and also as the Holy Ghost himself is God, by whose operation and indwelling the knowledge of divine things, and a holy disposition, and all grace, are conferred and upheld. And though means are made use of in conferring grace on men's souls, yet 'tis of God that we have these means of grace, and 'tis God that makes them effectual. 'Tis of God that we have the holy Scriptures; they are the word of God. 'Tis of God that we have ordinances, and their efficacy depends on the immediate influence of the Spirit of God. The ministers of the gospel are sent of God, and all their sufficiency is of him. 2 Cor. iv. 7, "We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us." Their success depends entirely and absolutely on the immediate blessing and influence of God. The redeemed have all. 1. Of the _grace_ of God. It was of mere grace that God gave us his only begotten Son. The grace is great in proportion to the dignity and excellency of what is given: the gift was infinitely precious, because it was a person infinitely worthy, a person of infinite glory; and also because it was a person infinitely near and dear to God. The grace is great in proportion to the benefit we have given us in him: the benefit is doubly infinite, in that in him we have deliverance from an infinite, because an eternal, misery; and do also receive eternal joy and glory. The grace in bestowing this gift is great in proportion to our unworthiness to whom it is given; instead of deserving such a gift, we merited infinitely ill of God's hands. The grace is great according to the manner of giving, or in proportion to the humiliation and expense of the method and means by which way is made for our having of the gift. He gave him to us dwelling amongst us; he gave him to us incarnate, or in our nature; he gave him to us in our nature, in the like infirmities in which we have it in our fallen state, and which in us do accompany and are occasioned by the sinful corruption of our nature. He gave him to us in a low and afflicted state; and not only so, but he gave him to us slain, that he might be a feast for our souls.° The grace of God in bestowing this gift is most free. It was what God was under no obligation to bestow: he might have rejected fallen man, as he did the fallen angels. It was what we never did any thing to merit. 'Twas given while we were yet enemies, and before we had so much as repented. It was from the love of God that saw no excellency in us to attract it; and it was without expectation of ever being requited for it. And 'tis from mere grace that the benefits of Christ are applied to such and such particular persons. Those that are called and sanctified are to attribute it alone to the good pleasure of God's goodness, by which they are distinguished. He is sovereign, and hath mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom he will, he hardens. Man hath now a greater dependence on the grace of God than he had before the fall. He depends on the free goodness of God for much more than he did then: then he depended on God's goodness for conferring the reward of perfect obedience: for God was not obliged to promise and bestow that reward: but now we are dependent on the grace of God for much more: we stand in need of grace, not only to bestow glory upon us, but to deliver us from hell and eternal wrath. Under the first covenant we depended on God's goodness to give us the reward of righteousness; and so we do now. And not only so, but we stand in need of God's free and sovereign grace to give us that righteousness; and yet not only so, but we stand in need of his grace to pardon our sin and release us from the guilt and infinite demerit of it. And as we are dependent on the goodness of God for more now than under the first covenant, so we are dependent on a much greater, more free and wonderful goodness. We are now more dependent on God's arbitrary and sovereign good pleasure. We were in our first estate dependent on God for holiness: we had our original righteousness from him; but then holiness was not bestowed in such a way of sovereign good pleasure as it is now. Man was created holy, and it became God to create holy all the reasonable creatures he created: it would have been a disparagement to the holiness of God's nature, if he had made an intelligent creature unholy. But now when a man is made holy, it is from mere and arbitrary grace; God may forever deny holiness to the fallen creature if he pleases, without any disparagement to any of his perfections. And we are not only indeed more dependent on the grace of God, but our dependence is much more conspicuous, because our own insufficiency and helplessness in ourselves is much more apparent in our fallen and undone state than it was before we were either sinful or miserable. We are more apparently dependent on God for holiness, because we are first sinful, and utterly polluted, and afterward holy: so the production of the effect is sensible, and its derivation from God more obvious. If man was ever holy and always was so, it would not be so apparent, that he had not holiness necessarily, as an inseparable qualification of human nature. So we are more apparently dependent on free grace for the favor of God, for we are first justly the objects of his displeasure and afterwards are received into favor. We are more apparently dependent on God for happiness, being first miserable and afterwards happy. It is more apparently free and without merit in us, because we are actually without any kind of excellency to merit, if there could be any such thing as merit in creature excellency. And we are not only without any true excellency, but are full of, and wholly defiled with, that which is infinitely odious. All our good is more apparently from God, because we are first naked and wholly without any good, and afterwards enriched with all good. 2. We receive all of the _power_ of God. Man's redemption is often spoken of as a work of wonderful power as well as grace. The great power of God appears in bringing a sinner from his low state, from the depths of sin and misery, to such an exalted state of holiness and happiness. Eph. i. 19, "And what is the exceeding greatness of his power to usward who believe, according to the working of his mighty power." We are dependent on God's power through every step of our redemption. We are dependent on the power of God to convert us, and give faith in Jesus Christ, and the new nature. 'Tis a work of creation: "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature," 2 Cor. v. 17. "We are created in Christ Jesus," Eph. ii. 10. The fallen creature cannot attain to true holiness, but by being created again: Eph. iv. 24, "And that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness." It is a raising from the dead: Col ii. 12, 13, "Wherein ye also are risen with him, through the faith of the operation of God, who hath raised him from the dead." Yea, it is a more glorious work of power than mere creation, or raising a dead body to life, in that the effect attained is greater and more excellent. That holy and happy being and spiritual life which is reached in the work of conversion is a far greater and more glorious effect than mere being and life. And the state from whence the change is made, of such a death in sin, and total corruption of nature, and depth of misery, is far more remote from the state attained, than mere death or nonentity. 'Tis by God's power also that we are preserved in a state of grace: 1 Pet. i. 5, "Who are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation." As grace is at first from God, so 'tis continually from him, and is maintained by him, as much as light in the atmosphere is all day long from the sun, as well as at first dawning or at sunrising. Men are dependent on the power of God for every exercise of grace, and for carrying on the work of grace in the heart, for the subduing of sin and corruption, and increasing holy principles, and enabling to bring forth fruit in good works, and at last bringing grace to its perfection, in making the soul completely amiable in Christ's glorious likeness, and filling of it with a satisfying joy and blessedness; and for the raising of the body to life, and to such a perfect state, that it shall be suitable for a habitation and organ for a soul so perfected and blessed. These are the most glorious effects of the power of God that are seen in the series of God's acts with respect to the creatures. Man was dependent on the power of God in his first estate, but he is more dependent on his power now; he needs God's power to do more things for him, and depends on a more wonderful exercise of his power. It was an effect of the power of God to make man holy at the first; but more remarkably so now, because there is a great deal of opposition and difficulty in the way. 'Tis a more glorious effect of power to make that holy that was so depraved and under the dominion of sin, than to confer holiness on that which before had nothing of the contrary. It is a more glorious work of power to rescue a soul out of the hands of the devil, and from the powers of darkness, and to bring it into a state of salvation, than to confer holiness where there was no prepossession or opposition. Luke xi. 21, 22, "When a strong man armed keepeth his palace, his goods are in peace; but when a stronger than he shall come upon him, and overcome him, he taketh from him all his armor wherein he trusted, and divideth his spoils." So 'tis a more glorious work of power to uphold a soul in a state of grace and holiness, and to carry it on till it is brought to glory, when there is so much sin remaining in the heart resisting, and Satan with all his might opposing, than it would have been to have kept man from falling at first, when Satan had nothing in man. Thus we have shown how the redeemed are dependent on God for all their good, as they have all _of_ him. Secondly, They are also dependent on God for all, as they have all _through_ him. 'Tis God that is the medium of it, as well as the author and fountain of it. All that we have, wisdom and the pardon of sin, deliverance from hell, acceptance in God's favor, grace and holiness, true comfort and happiness, eternal life and glory, we have from God by a Mediator; and this Mediator is God, which Mediator we have an absolute dependence upon as he _through_ whom we receive all. So that here is another way wherein we have our dependence on God for all good. God not only gives us the Mediator, and accepts his mediation, and of his power and grace bestows the things purchased by the Mediator, but he is the Mediator. Our blessings are what we have by purchase; and the purchase is made of God, the blessings are purchased of him, and God gives the purchaser; and not only so, but God is the purchaser. Yea, God is both the purchaser and the price; for Christ, who is God, purchased these blessings for us by offering up himself as the price of our salvation. He purchased eternal life by the sacrifice of himself: Heb. vii. 27, "He offered up himself;" and ix. 26, "He hath appeared to take away sin by the sacrifice of himself." Indeed it was the human nature that was offered; but it was the same person with the divine, and therefore was an infinite price: it was looked upon as if God had been offered in sacrifice. As we thus have our good through God, we have a dependence on God in a respect that man in his first estate had not. Man was to have eternal life then through his own righteousness; so that he had partly a dependence upon what was in himself; for we have a dependence upon that through which we have our good, as well as that from which we have it. And though man's righteousness that he then depended on was indeed from God, yet it was his own, it was inherent in himself; so that his dependence was not so immediately on God. But now the righteousness that we are dependent on is not in ourselves, but in God. We are saved through the righteousness of Christ: he _is made unto us righteousness_; and therefore is prophesied of, Jer. xxiii. 6, under that name of "the Lord our righteousness." In that the righteousness we are justified by is the righteousness of Christ, it is the righteousness of God: 2 Cor. v. 21, "That we might be made the righteousness of God in him." Thus in redemption we han't only all things of God, but by and through him: 1 Cor. viii. 21, "But to us there is but one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we in him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all things, and we by him." Thirdly, The redeemed have all their good _in_ God. We not only have it of him, and through him, but it consists in him; he _is_ all our good. The good of the redeemed is either objective or inherent. By their objective good I mean that intrinsic object, in the possession and enjoyment of which they are happy. Their inherent good is that excellency or pleasure which is in the soul itself. With respect to both of which the redeemed have all their good in God, or, which is the same thing, God himself is all their good. 1. The redeemed have all their _objective_ good in God. God himself is the great good which they are brought to the possession and enjoyment of by redemption. He is the highest good and the sum of all that good which Christ purchased. God is the inheritance of the saints; he is the portion of their souls. God is their wealth and treasure, their food, their life, their dwelling-place, their ornament and diadem, and their everlasting honor and glory. They have none in heaven but God; he is the great good which the redeemed are received to at death, and which they are to rise to at the end of the world. The Lord God, he is the light of the heavenly Jerusalem; and is the "river of the water of life," that runs, and "the tree of life that grows, in the midst of the paradise of God." The glorious excellencies and beauty of God will be what will forever entertain the minds of the saints, and the love of God will be their everlasting feast. The redeemed will indeed enjoy other things; they will enjoy the angels, and will enjoy one another; but that which they shall enjoy in the angels, or each other, or in any thing else whatsoever that will yield them delight and happiness, will be what will be seen of God in them. 2. The redeemed have all their _inherent_ good in God. Inherent good is twofold; 'tis either excellency or pleasure. These the redeemed not only derive from God, as caused by him, but have them in him. They have spiritual excellency and joy by a kind of participation of God. They are made excellent by a communication of God's excellency: God puts his own beauty, i.e., his beautiful likeness, upon their souls: they are made partakers of the divine nature, or moral image of God, 2 Pet. i. 4. They are holy by being made partakers of God's holiness, Heb. xii. 10. The saints are beautiful and blessed by a communication of God's holiness and joy, as the moon and planets are bright by the sun's light. The saint hath spiritual joy and pleasure by a kind of effusion of God on the soul. In these things the redeemed have communion with God; that is, they partake with him and of him. The saints have both their spiritual excellency and blessedness by the gift of the Holy Ghost, or Spirit of God, and his dwelling in them. They are not only caused by the Holy Ghost, but are in the Holy Ghost as their principle. The Holy Spirit becoming an inhabitant, is a vital principle in the soul: he, acting in, upon and with the soul, becomes a fountain of true holiness and joy, as a spring is of water, by the exertion and diffusion of itself: John iv. 14, "But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him, shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him, shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life,"--compared with chap. vii. 38, 39, "He that believeth on me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water; but this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive." The sum of what Christ has purchased for us is that spring of water spoken of in the former of those places, and those rivers of living water spoken of in the latter. And the sum of the blessings which the redeemed shall receive in heaven is that river of water of life that proceeds from the throne of God and the Lamb, Rev. xxii. 1,--which doubtless signifies the same with those rivers of living water explained John vii. 38, 39, which is elsewhere called the "river of God's pleasures." Herein consists the fulness of good which the saints receive by Christ. 'Tis by partaking of the Holy Spirit that they have communion with Christ in his fulness. God hath given the Spirit, not by measure unto him, and they do receive of his fulness, and grace for grace. This is the sum of the saints' inheritance; and therefore that little of the Holy Ghost which believers have in this world is said to be the earnest of their inheritance. 2 Cor. i. 22, "Who hath also sealed us, and given us the Spirit in our hearts." And chap. v. 5, "Now he that hath wrought us for the selfsame thing is God, who also hath given unto us the earnest of the Spirit." And Eph. i. 13, 14, "Ye were sealed with that Holy Spirit of promise, which is the earnest of our inheritance, until the redemption of the purchased possession." The Holy Spirit and good things are spoken of in Scripture as the same; as if the Spirit of God communicated to the soul comprised all good things: Matt. vii. 11, "How much more shall your heavenly Father give good things to them that ask him?" In Luke it is, chap. xi. 13, "How much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?" This is the sum of the blessings that Christ died to procure, and that are the subject of gospel promises: Gal. iii. 13, 14, "He was made a curse for us, that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith." The Spirit of God is the great promise of the Father: Luke xxiv. 49, "Behold, I send the promise of my Father upon you." The Spirit of God therefore is called "the Spirit of promise," Eph. i. 13. This promised thing Christ received, and had given into his hand, as soon as he had finished the work of our redemption, to bestow on all that he had redeemed: Acts ii. 33, "Therefore, being by the right hand of God exalted, and having received of the Father the promise of the Holy Ghost, he hath shed forth this, which ye both see and hear." So that all the holiness and happiness of the redeemed is _in_ God. 'Tis in the communications, indwelling and acting of the Spirit of God. Holiness and happiness are in the fruit, here and hereafter, because God dwells in them, and they in God. Thus 'tis God that has given us the Redeemer, and 'tis of him that our good is purchased: so 'tis God that is the Redeemer and the price; and 'tis God also that is the good purchased. So that all that we have is _of_ God, and _through_ him, and _in_ him: Rom. xi. 36, "For of him, and through him, and to him (or in him), are all things." The same in the Greek that is here rendered _to him_ is rendered _in him_, 1 Cor. vii. 6. II. God is glorified in the work of redemption by this means, viz., by there being so great and universal a dependence of the redeemed on him. 1. Man hath so much the greater occasion and obligation to take notice and acknowledge God's perfections and all-sufficiency. The greater the creature's dependence is on God's perfections, and the greater concern he has with them, so much the greater occasion has he to take notice of them. So much the greater concern any one has with, and dependence upon, the power and grace of God, so much the greater occasion has he to take notice of that power and grace. So much the greater and more immediate dependence there is on the divine holiness, so much the greater occasion to take notice of and acknowledge that. So much the greater and more absolute dependence we have on the divine perfections, as belonging to the several persons of the Trinity, so much the greater occasion have we to observe and own the divine glory of each of them. That which we are most concerned with, is surely most in the way of our observation and notice; and this kind of concern with any thing, viz., dependence, does especially tend to commend and oblige the attention and observation. Those things that we are not much dependent upon, 'tis easy to neglect; but we can scarce do any other than mind that which we have a great dependence on. By reason of our so great dependence on God and his perfections, and in so many respects, he and his glory are the more directly set in our view, which way soever we turn our eyes. We have the greater occasion to take notice of God's all-sufficiency, when all our sufficiency is thus every way of him. We have the more occasion to contemplate him as an infinite good, and as the fountain of all good. Such a dependence on God demonstrates God's all-sufficiency. So much as the dependence of the creature is on God, so much the greater does the creature's emptiness in himself appear to be; and so much the greater the creature's emptiness, so much the greater must the fulness of the Being be who supplies him. Our having all _of_ God shows the fulness of his power and grace: our having all _through_ him shows the fulness of his merit and worthiness; and our having all _in_ him demonstrates his fulness of beauty, love and happiness. And the redeemed, by reason of the greatness of their dependence on God, han't only so much the greater occasion, but obligation to contemplate and acknowledge the glory and fulness of God. How unreasonable and ungrateful should we be if we did not acknowledge that sufficiency and glory that we do absolutely, immediately and universally depend upon! 2. Hereby is demonstrated how great God's glory is considered comparatively, or as compared with the creature's. By the creature's being thus wholly and universally dependent on God, it appears that the creature is nothing and that God is all. Hereby it appears that God is infinitely above us; that God's strength, and wisdom and holiness are infinitely greater than ours. However great and glorious the creature apprehends God to be, yet if he be not sensible of the difference between God and him, so as to see that God's glory is great, compared with his own, he will not be disposed to give God the glory due to his name. If the creature, in any respect, sets himself upon a level with God, or exalts himself to any competition with him, however he may apprehend that great honor and profound respect may belong to God from those that are more inferior, and at a greater distance, he will not be so sensible of its being due from him. So much the more men exalt themselves, so much the less will they surely be disposed to exalt God. 'Tis certainly a thing that God aims at in the disposition of things in the affair of redemption (if we allow the Scriptures to be a revelation of God's mind), that God should appear full, and man in himself empty, that God should appear all, and man nothing. 'Tis God's declared design that others should not "glory in his presence"; which implies that 'tis his design to advance his own comparative glory. So much the more man "glories in God's presence," so much the less glory is ascribed to God. 3. By its being thus ordered, that the creature should have so absolute and universal a dependence on God, provision is made that God should have our whole souls, and should be the object of our undivided respect. If we had our dependence partly on God and partly on something else, man's respect would be divided to those different things on which he had dependence. Thus it would be if we depended on God only for a part of our good, and on ourselves or some other being for another part: or if we had our good only from God, and through another that was not God, and in something else distinct from both, our hearts would be divided between the good itself, and him from whom, and him through whom we received it. But now there is no occasion for this, God being not only he from or of whom we have all good, but also through whom, and one that is that good itself, that we have from him and through him. So that whatsoever there is to attract our respect, the tendency is still directly towards God, all unites in him as the centre. USE 1. We may here observe the marvellous wisdom of God in the work of redemption. God hath made man's emptiness and misery, his low, lost and ruined state into which he sunk by the fall, an occasion of the greater advancement of his own glory, as in other ways, so particularly in this, that there is now a much more universal and apparent dependence of man on God. Though God be pleased to lift man out of that dismal abyss of sin and woe into which he was fallen, and exceedingly to exalt him in excellency and honor, and to a high pitch of glory and blessedness, yet the creature hath nothing in any respect to glory of; all the glory evidently belongs to God, all is in a mere and most absolute and divine dependence on the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. And each person of the Trinity is equally glorified in this work: there is an absolute dependence of the creature on every one for all: all is _of_ the Father, all _through_ the Son, and all _in_ the Holy Ghost. Thus God appears in the work of redemption as _all in all_. It is fit that he that is, and there is none else, should be the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the all, and the only, in this work. 2. Hence those doctrines and schemes of divinity that are in any respect opposite to such an absolute and universal dependence on God, do derogate from God's glory, and thwart the design of the contrivance for our redemption. Those schemes that put the creature in God's stead, in any of the mentioned respects, that exalt man into the place of either Father, Son or Holy Ghost, in any thing pertaining to our redemption; that, however they may allow of a dependence of the redeemed on God, yet deny a dependence that is so absolute and universal; that own an entire dependence on God for some things, but not for others; that own that we depend on God for the gift and acceptance of a Redeemer, but deny so absolute a dependence on him for the obtaining of an interest in the Redeemer; that own an absolute dependence on the Father for giving his Son, and on the Son for working out redemption, but not so entire a dependence on the Holy Ghost for conversion and a being in Christ, and so coming to a title to his benefits; that own a dependence on God for means of grace, but not absolutely for the benefit and success of those means; that own a partial dependence on the power of God for the obtaining and exercising holiness, but not a mere dependence on the arbitrary and sovereign grace of God; that own a dependence on the free grace of God for a reception into his favor, so far that it is without any proper merit, but not as it is without being attracted, or moved with any excellency; that own a partial dependence on Christ, as he through whom we have life, as having purchased new terms of life, but still hold that the righteousness through which we have life is inherent in ourselves, as it was under the first covenant; and whatever other way any scheme is inconsistent with our entire dependence on God for all, and in each of those ways, of having all of him, through him, and in him, it is repugnant to the design and tenor of the gospel and robs it of that which God accounts its lustre and glory. 3. Hence we may learn a reason why faith is that by which we come to have an interest in this redemption; for there is included in the nature of faith a sensibleness and acknowledgment of this absolute dependence on God in this affair. 'Tis very fit that it should be required of all, in order to their having the benefit of this redemption, that they should be sensible of, and acknowledge the dependence on God for it. 'Tis by this means that God hath contrived to glorify himself in redemption; and 'tis fit that God should at least have this glory of those that are the subjects of this redemption, and have the benefit of it. Faith is a sensibleness of what is real in the work of redemption; and as we do really wholly depend on God, so the soul that believes doth entirely depend on God for all salvation, in its own sense and act. Faith abases men and exalts God, it gives all the glory of redemption to God alone. It is necessary in order to saving faith, that man should be emptied of himself, that he should be sensible that he is "wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked." Humility is a great ingredient of true faith: he that truly receives redemption, receives it as a little child: Mark x. 15, "Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of heaven as a little child, he shall not enter therein." It is the delight of a believing soul to abase itself and exalt God alone: that is the language of it, Psalm cxv. 1, "Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to thy name give glory." 4. Let us be exhorted to exalt God alone, and ascribe to him all the glory of redemption. Let us endeavor to obtain, and increase in a sensibleness of our great dependence on God, to have our eye to him alone, to mortify a self-dependent and self-righteous disposition. Man is naturally exceeding prone to be exalting himself and depending on his own power or goodness, as though he were he from whom he must expect happiness, and to have respect to enjoyments alien from God and his Spirit, as those in which happiness is to be found. And this doctrine should teach us to exalt God alone, as by trust and reliance, so by praise. _Let him that glorieth, glory in the Lord._ Hath any man hope that he is converted and sanctified, and that his mind is endowed with true excellency and spiritual beauty, and his sins forgiven, and he received into God's favor, and exalted to the honor and blessedness of being his child, and an heir of eternal life: let him give God all the glory; who alone makes him to differ from the worst of men in this world, or the miserablest of the damned in hell. Hath any man much comfort and strong hope of eternal life, let not his hope lift him up, but dispose him the more to abase himself and reflect on his own exceeding unworthiness of such a favor, and to exalt God alone. Is any man eminent in holiness and abundant in good works, let him take nothing of the glory of it to himself, but ascribe it to him whose "workmanship we are, created in Christ Jesus unto good works." [Illustration: FACSIMILE OF MANUSCRIPT OF FIRST PAGE OF SERMON "A DIVINE AND SUPERNATURAL LIGHT."] II A DIVINE AND SUPERNATURAL LIGHT, IMMEDIATELY IMPARTED TO THE SOUL BY THE SPIRIT OF GOD, SHOWN TO BE BOTH A SCRIPTURAL AND RATIONAL DOCTRINE.° MATT. xvi.--And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven. Christ says these words to Peter upon occasion of his professing his faith in him as the Son of God. Our Lord was inquiring of his disciples, who men said he was; not that he needed to be informed, but only to introduce and give occasion to what follows. They answer, that some said he was John the Baptist, and some Elias, and others Jeremias, or one of the Prophets. When they had thus given an account who others said he was, Christ asks them, who they said he was. Simon Peter, whom we find always zealous and forward, was the first to answer: he readily replied to the question, _Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God_. Upon this occasion, Christ says as he does _to_ him, and _of_ him in the text: in which we may observe, 1. That Peter is pronounced blessed on this account. _Blessed art Thou._--"Thou art a happy man, that thou art not ignorant of this, that I am Christ, the Son of the living God. Thou art distinguishingly happy. Others are blinded, and have dark and deluded apprehensions, as you have now given an account, some thinking that I am Elias, and some that I am Jeremias, and some one thing, and some another; but none of them thinking right, all of them misled. Happy art thou, that art so distinguished as to know the truth in this matter." 2. The evidence of this his happiness declared; viz., that God, and he only, had _revealed it_ to him. This is an evidence of his being _blessed_. First, As it shows how peculiarly favored he was of God above others; q. d., "How highly favored art thou, that others that are wise and great men, the Scribes, Pharisees and Rulers, and the nation in general, are left in darkness, to follow their own misguided apprehensions; and that thou shouldst be singled out, as it were, by name, that my Heavenly Father should thus set his love on thee, Simon Barjona. This argues thee blessed, that thou shouldst thus be the object of God's distinguishing love." Secondly, It evidences his blessedness also, as it intimates that this knowledge is above any that flesh and blood can reveal. "This is such knowledge as my Father which is in heaven only can give: it is too high and excellent to be communicated by such means as other knowledge is. Thou art blessed, that thou knowest that which God alone can teach thee." The original of this knowledge is here declared, both negatively and positively. Positively, as God is here declared the author of it. Negatively, as it is declared, that flesh and blood had not revealed it. God is the author of all knowledge and understanding whatsoever. He is the author of the knowledge that is obtained by human learning: he is the author of all moral prudence, and of the knowledge and skill that men have in their secular business. Thus it is said of all in Israel that were wise-hearted and skilful in embroidering, that God had filled them with the spirit of wisdom, Exod. xxviii. 3. God is the author of such knowledge; but yet not so but that flesh and blood reveals it. Mortal men are capable of imparting the knowledge of human arts and sciences, and skill in temporal affairs. God is the author of such knowledge by those means: flesh and blood is made use of by God as the mediate or second cause of it; he conveys it by the power and influence of natural means. But this spiritual knowledge, spoken of in the text, is what God is the author of, and none else: he reveals it, and flesh and blood reveals it not. He imparts this knowledge immediately, not making use of any intermediate natural causes, as he does in other knowledge. What had passed in the preceding discourse naturally occasioned Christ to observe this; because the disciples had been telling how others did not know him, but were generally mistaken about him, and divided and confounded in their opinions of him: but Peter had declared his assured faith, that he was the Son of God. Now it was natural to observe, how it was not flesh and blood that had revealed it to him, but God: for if this knowledge were dependent on natural causes or means, how came it to pass that they, a company of poor fishermen, illiterate men, and persons of low education, attained to the knowledge of the truth; while the Scribes and Pharisees, men of vastly higher advantages, and greater knowledge and sagacity in other matters, remained in ignorance? This could be owing only to the gracious distinguishing influence and revelation of the Spirit of God. Hence, what I would make the subject of my present discourse from these words is this DOCTRINE viz., _That there is such a thing as a Spiritual and Divine Light, immediately imparted to the soul by God, of a different nature from any that is obtained by natural means._ In what I say on this subject at this time I would I. Show what this divine light is. II. How it is given immediately by God, and not obtained by natural means. III. Show the truth of the doctrine. And then conclude with a brief improvement. I. I would show what this spiritual and divine light is. And in order to it, would show, First, In a few things what it _is not_. And here, 1. _Those convictions that natural men may have of their sin and misery_, is not _this_ spiritual and divine light. Men in a natural condition may have convictions of the guilt that lies upon them, and of the anger of God and their danger of divine vengeance. Such convictions are from light or sensibleness of truth. That some sinners have a greater conviction of their guilt and misery than others, is because some have more light, or more of an apprehension of truth than others. And this light and conviction may be from the Spirit of God; the Spirit convinces men of sin: but yet nature is much more concerned in it than in the communication of that spiritual and divine light that is spoken of in the doctrine; 'tis from the Spirit of God only as assisting natural principles, and not as infusing any new principles. Common grace differs from special, in that it influences only by assisting of nature; and not by imparting grace, or bestowing anything above nature. The light that is obtained is wholly natural, or of no superior kind to what mere nature attains to, though more of that kind be obtained than would be obtained if men were left wholly to themselves: or, in other words, common grace only assists the faculties of the soul to do that more fully which they do by nature, as natural conscience or reason will, by mere nature, make a man sensible of guilt, and will accuse and condemn him when he has done amiss. Conscience is a principle natural to men; and the work that it doth naturally, or of itself, is to give an apprehension of right and wrong, and to suggest to the mind the relation that there is between right and wrong and a retribution. The Spirit of God, in those convictions which unregenerate men sometimes have, assists conscience to do this work in a further degree than it would do if they were left to themselves: he helps it against those things that tend to stupefy it, and obstruct its exercise. But in the renewing and sanctifying work of the Holy Ghost, those things are wrought in the soul that are above nature, and of which there is nothing of the like kind in the soul by nature; and they are caused to exist in the soul habitually, and according to such a stated constitution or law that lays such a foundation for exercises in a continued course, as is called a principle of nature. Not only are remaining principles assisted to do their work more freely and fully, but those principles are restored that were utterly destroyed by the fall; and the mind thenceforward habitually exerts those acts that the dominion of sin had made it as wholly destitute of, as a dead body is of vital acts. The Spirit of God acts in a very different manner in the one case from what he doth in the other. He may indeed act upon the mind of a natural man, but he acts in the mind of a saint as an indwelling vital principle. He acts upon the mind of an unregenerate person as an extrinsic, occasional agent; for in acting upon them, he doth not unite himself to them; notwithstanding all his influences that they may be the subjects of, they are still sensual, having not the Spirit, Jude 19. But he unites himself with the mind of a saint, takes him for his temple, actuates and influences him as a new, supernatural principle of life and action. There is this difference, that the Spirit of God, in acting in the soul of a godly man, exerts and communicates himself there in his own proper nature. Holiness is the proper nature of the Spirit of God. The Holy Spirit operates in the minds of the godly by uniting himself to them, and living in them, and exerting his own nature in the exercise of their faculties. The Spirit of God may act upon a creature, and yet not in acting communicate himself. The Spirit of God may act upon inanimate creatures; as the Spirit moved upon the face of the waters in the beginning of the creation; so the Spirit of God may act upon the minds of men many ways, and communicate himself no more than when he acts upon an inanimate creature. For instance, he may excite thoughts in them, may assist their natural reason and understanding, or may assist other natural principles, and this without any union with the soul, but may act, as it were, as upon an external object. But as he acts in his holy influences and spiritual operations, he acts in a way of peculiar communication of himself; so that the subject is thence denominated spiritual. 2. _This_ spiritual and divine light _don't consist in any impression made upon the imagination_. It is no impression upon the mind, as though one saw any thing with the bodily eyes: 'tis no imagination or idea of an outward light or glory, or any beauty of form or countenance, or a visible lustre or brightness of any object. The imagination may be strongly impressed with such things; but this is not spiritual light. Indeed when the mind has a lively discovery of spiritual things, and is greatly affected by the power of divine light, it may, and probably very commonly doth, much affect the imagination; so that impressions of an outward beauty or brightness may accompany those spiritual discoveries. But spiritual light is not that impression upon the imagination, but an exceeding different thing from it. Natural men may have lively impressions on their imaginations; and we can't determine but that the devil, who transforms himself into an angel of light, may cause imaginations of an outward beauty, or visible glory, and of sounds and speeches and other such things; but these are things of a vastly inferior nature to spiritual light. 3. _This_ spiritual light is _not the suggesting of any new truths or propositions not contained in the word of God_. This suggesting of new truths or doctrines to the mind, independent of any antecedent revelation of those propositions, either in word or writing, is inspiration; such as the prophets and apostles had, and such as some enthusiasts pretend to. But this spiritual light that I am speaking of, is quite a different thing from inspiration: it reveals no new doctrine, it suggests no new proposition to the mind, it teaches no new thing of God, or Christ, or another world, not taught in the Bible, but only gives a due apprehension of those things that are taught in the word of God. 4. _'Tis not every affecting view that men have of the things of religion that is this_ spiritual and divine light. Men by mere principles of nature are capable of being affected with things that have a special relation to religion as well as other things. A person by mere nature, for instance, may be liable to be affected with the story of Jesus Christ, and the sufferings he underwent, as well as by any other tragical story: he may be the more affected with it from the interest he conceives mankind to have in it: yea, he may be affected with it without believing it; as well as a man may be affected with what he reads in a romance, or sees acted in a stage play. He may be affected with a lively and eloquent description of many pleasant things that attend the state of the blessed in heaven, as well as his imagination be entertained by a romantic description of the pleasantness of fairy-land, or the like. And that common belief of the truth of the things of religion that persons may have from education or otherwise, may help forward their affection. We read in Scripture of many that were greatly affected with things of a religious nature, who yet are there represented as wholly graceless, and many of them very ill men. A person therefore may have affecting views of the things of religion, and yet be very destitute of spiritual light. Flesh and blood may be the author of this: one man may give another an affecting view of divine things with but common assistance; but God alone can give a spiritual discovery of them. But I proceed to show, Secondly, Positively what this spiritual and divine light _is_. And it may be thus described: _a true sense of the divine excellency of the things revealed in the word of God, and a conviction of the truth and reality of them thence arising_. This spiritual light primarily consists in the former of these, viz., a real sense and apprehension of the divine excellency of things revealed in the word of God. A spiritual and saving conviction of the truth and reality of these things arises from such a sight of their divine excellency and glory; so that this conviction of their truth is an effect and natural consequence of this sight of their divine glory. There is therefore in this spiritual light, 1. _A true sense of the divine and superlative excellency of the things of religion_; a real sense of the excellency of God and Jesus Christ, and of the work of redemption, and the ways and works of God revealed in the gospel. There is a divine and superlative glory in these things; an excellency that is of a vastly higher kind and more sublime nature than in other things; a glory greatly distinguishing them from all that is earthly and temporal. He that is spiritually enlightened truly apprehends and sees it, or has a sense of it. He does not merely rationally believe that God is glorious, but he has a sense of the gloriousness of God in his heart. There is not only a rational belief that God is holy and that holiness is a good thing, but there is a sense of the loveliness of God's holiness. There is not only a speculatively judging that God is gracious, but a sense how amiable God is upon that account, or a sense of the beauty of this divine attribute. There is a twofold understanding or knowledge of good that God has made the mind of man capable of. The first, that which is merely speculative or notional; as when a person only speculatively judges that anything is, which, by the agreement of mankind, is called good or excellent, viz., that which is most to general advantage, and between which and a reward there is a suitableness, and the like. And the other is that which consists in the sense of the heart: as when there is a sense of the beauty, amiableness, or sweetness of a thing; so that the heart is sensible of pleasure and delight in the presence of the idea of it. In the former is exercised merely the speculative faculty, or the understanding, strictly so called, or as spoken of in distinction from the will or disposition of the soul. In the latter, the will, or inclination, or heart, are mainly concerned. Thus there is a difference between having an opinion that God is holy and gracious, and having a sense of the loveliness and beauty of that holiness and grace. There is a difference between having a rational judgment that honey is sweet, and having a sense of its sweetness. A man may have the former, that knows not how honey tastes; but a man can't have the latter unless he has an idea of the taste of honey in his mind. So there is a difference between believing that a person is beautiful, and having a sense of his beauty. The former may be obtained by hearsay, but the latter only by seeing the countenance. There is a wide difference between mere speculative rational judging anything to be excellent, and having a sense of its sweetness and beauty. The former rests only in the head, speculation only is concerned in it; but the heart is concerned in the latter. When the heart is sensible of the beauty and amiableness of a thing, it necessarily feels pleasure in the apprehension. It is implied in a person's being heartily sensible of the loveliness of a thing, that the idea of it is sweet and pleasant to his soul; which is a far different thing from having a rational opinion that it is excellent. 2. There arises from this sense of divine excellency of things contained in the word of God _a conviction of the truth and reality of them_; and that either indirectly or directly. First, _Indirectly_, and that two ways. 1. As the _prejudices that are in the heart_ against the truth of divine things _are hereby removed_; so that the mind becomes susceptive of the due force of rational arguments for their truth. The mind of man is naturally full of prejudices against the truth of divine things: it is full of enmity against the doctrines of the gospel; which is a disadvantage to those arguments that prove their truth, and causes them to lose their force upon the mind. But when a person has discovered to him the divine excellency of Christian doctrines, this destroys the enmity, removes those prejudices, and sanctifies the reason, and causes it to lie open to the force of arguments for their truth. Hence was the different effect that Christ's miracles had to convince the disciples from what they had to convince the Scribes and Pharisees. Not that they had a stronger reason, or had their reason more improved; but their reason was sanctified, and those blinding prejudices, that the Scribes and Pharisees were under, were removed by the sense they had of the excellency of Christ and his doctrine. 2. It not only removes the hinderances of reason, but _positively helps reason_. It makes even the speculative notions the more lively. It engages the attention of the mind, with the more fixedness and intenseness to that kind of objects; which causes it to have a clearer view of them, and enables it more clearly to see their mutual relations, and occasions it to take more notice of them. The ideas themselves that otherwise are dim and obscure are by this means impressed with the greater strength, and have a light cast upon them; so that the mind can better judge of them: as he that beholds the objects on the face of the earth, when the light of the sun is cast upon them, is under greater advantage to discern them in their true forms and mutual relations than he that sees them in a dim starlight or twilight. The mind having a sensibleness of the excellency of divine objects, dwells upon them with delight; and the powers of the soul are more awakened and enlivened to employ themselves in the contemplation of them, and exert themselves more fully and much more to the purpose. The beauty and sweetness of the objects draws on the faculties, and draws forth their exercises: so that reason itself is under far greater advantages for its proper and free exercises, and to attain its proper end, free of darkness and delusion. But, Secondly, A true sense of the divine excellency of the things of God's word doth more _directly_ and _immediately_ convince of the truth of them; and that because the excellency of these things is so superlative. There is a beauty in them that is so divine and godlike, that is greatly and evidently distinguishing of them from things merely human, or that men are the inventors and authors of; a glory that is so high and great that, when clearly seen, commands assent to their divinity and reality. When there is an actual and lively discovery of this beauty and excellency, it won't allow of any such thought as that it is a human work, or the fruit of men's invention. This evidence that they that are spiritually enlightened have of the truth of the things of religion is a kind of intuitive and immediate evidence. They believe the doctrines of God's word to be divine, because they see divinity in them; i.e., they see a divine, and transcendent, and most evidently distinguishing glory in them; such a glory as, if clearly seen, does not leave room to doubt of their being of God, and not of men. Such a conviction of the truth of religion as this, arising, these ways, from a sense of the divine excellency of them, is that true spiritual conviction that there is in saving faith. And this original of it is that by which it is most essentially distinguished from that common assent which unregenerate men are capable of. II. I proceed now to the second thing proposed, viz., to show _how this light is immediately given by God_, and not obtained by natural means. And here, 1. _'Tis not intended that the natural faculties are not made use of in it._ The natural faculties are the subject of this light: and they are the subject in such a manner that they are not merely passive, but active in it; the acts and exercises of man's understanding are concerned and made use of in it. God, in letting in this light into the soul, deals with man according to his nature, or as a rational creature; and makes use of his human faculties. But yet this light is not the less immediately from God for that; though the faculties are made use of, 'tis as the subject and not as the cause; and that acting of the faculties in it is not the cause, but is either implied in the thing itself (in the light that is imparted) or is the consequence of it: as the use that we make of our eyes in beholding various objects, when the sun arises, is not the cause of the light that discovers those objects to us. 2. _'Tis not intended that outward means have no concern in this affair._ As I have observed already, 'tis not in this affair, as it is in inspiration, where new truths are suggested: for here is by this light only given a due apprehension of the same truths that are revealed in the word of God; and therefore it is not given without the word. The gospel is made use of in this affair: this light is the "light of the glorious gospel of Christ," 2 Cor. iv. 4. The gospel is as a glass, by which this light is conveyed to us, 1 Cor. xiii. 12: "Now we see through a glass."--But, 3. When it is said that this light is given immediately by God, and not obtained by natural means, _hereby is intended, that 'tis given by God without making use of any means that operate by their own power, or a natural force_. God makes use of means; but 'tis not as mediate causes to produce this effect. There are not truly any second causes of it; but it is produced by God immediately. The word of God is no proper cause of this effect: it does not operate by any natural force in it. The word of God is only made use of to convey to the mind the subject matter of this saving instruction: and this indeed it doth convey to us by natural force or influence. It conveys to our minds these and those doctrines; it is the cause of the notion of them in our heads, but not of the sense of the divine excellency of them in our hearts. Indeed a person can't have spiritual light without the word. But that don't argue that the word properly causes that light. The mind can't see the excellency of any doctrine, unless that doctrine be first in the mind; but the seeing of the excellency of the doctrine may be immediately from the Spirit of God; though the conveying of the doctrine or proposition itself may be by the word. So that the notions that are the subject matter of this light are conveyed to the mind by the word of God; but that due sense of the heart, wherein this light formally consists, is immediately by the Spirit of God. As for instance, that notion that there is a Christ, and that Christ is holy and gracious, is conveyed to the mind by the word of God: but the sense of the excellency of Christ by reason of that holiness and grace, is nevertheless immediately the work of the Holy Spirit.--I come now, III. To show _the truth of the doctrine_; that is, to show that there is such a thing as that spiritual light that has been described, thus immediately let into the mind by God. And here I would show briefly, that this doctrine is both _scriptural_ and _rational_. First, 'Tis _scriptural_. My text is not only full to the purpose, but 'tis a doctrine that the Scripture abounds in. We are there abundantly taught that the saints differ from the ungodly in this, that they have the knowledge of God, and a sight of God, and of Jesus Christ. I shall mention but few texts of many. 1 John iii. 6, "Whosoever sinneth hath not seen him, nor known him." 3 John 11, "He that doeth good is of God: but he that doeth evil hath not seen God." John xiv. 19, "The world seeth me no more; but ye see me." John xvii. 3, "And this is eternal life, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent." This knowledge, or sight of God and Christ, can't be a mere speculative knowledge; because it is spoken of as a seeing and knowing wherein they differ from the ungodly. And by these Scriptures it must not only be a different knowledge in degree and circumstances, and different in its effects; but it must be entirely different in nature and kind. And this light and knowledge is always spoken of as immediately given of God, Matt. xi. 25, 26, 27: "At that time Jesus answered and said, I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. Even so, Father: for so it seemed good in thy sight. All things are delivered unto me of my father: and no man knoweth the Son, but the Father: neither knoweth any man the Father, save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him." Here this effect is ascribed alone to the arbitrary operation and gift of God, bestowing this knowledge on whom he will, and distinguishing those with it, that have the least natural advantage or means for knowledge, even babes, when it is denied to the wise and prudent. And the imparting of the knowledge of God is here appropriated to the Son of God as his sole prerogative. And again, 2 Cor. iv. 6: "For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." This plainly shows that there is such a thing as a discovery of the divine superlative glory and excellency of God and Christ, and that peculiar to the saints: and also, that 'tis as immediately from God, as light from the sun: and that 'tis the immediate effect of his power and will; for 'tis compared to God's creating the light by his powerful word in the beginning of the creation; and is said to be by the Spirit of the Lord, in the 18th verse of the preceding chapter. God is spoken of as giving the knowledge of Christ in conversion, as of what before was hidden and unseen in that, Gal. i. 15, 16: "But when it pleased God, who separated me from my mother's womb, and called me by his grace, to reveal his Son in me." The Scripture also speaks plainly of such a knowledge of the word of God as has been described, as the immediate gift of God, Psal. cxix. 18: "Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law." What could the Psalmist mean when he begged of God to open his eyes? Was he ever blind? Might he not have resort to the law and see every word and sentence in it when he pleased? And what could he mean by those "wondrous things"? Was it the wonderful stories of the creation and deluge, and Israel's passing through the Red Sea, and the like? Were not his eyes open to read these strange things when he would? Doubtless by "wondrous things" in God's law, he had respect to those distinguishing and wonderful excellencies, and marvellous manifestations of the divine perfections and glory, that there was in the commands and doctrines of the word, and those works and counsels of God that were there revealed. So the Scripture speaks of a knowledge of God's dispensation, and covenant of mercy, and way of grace towards his people, as peculiar to the saints, and given only by God, Psal. xxv. 14: "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him; and he will show them his covenant." And that a true and saving belief of the truth of religion is that which arises from such a discovery, is also what the Scripture teaches. As John vi. 40: "And this is the will of him that sent me, that every one which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life;" where it is plain that a true faith is what arises from a spiritual sight of Christ. And John xvii. 6, 7, 8: "I have manifested thy name unto the men which thou gavest me out of the world. Now they have known that all things whatsoever thou hast given me are of thee. For I have given unto them the words which thou gavest me; and they have received them, and have known surely that I came out from thee, and they have believed that thou didst send me;" where Christ's manifesting God's name to the disciples, or giving them the knowledge of God, was that whereby they knew that Christ's doctrine was of God, and that Christ himself was of him, proceeded from him, and was sent by him. Again, John xii. 44, 45, 46: "Jesus cried and said, He that believeth on me, believeth not on me, but on him that sent me. And he that seeth me seeth him that sent me. I am come a light into the world, that whosoever believeth on me should not abide in darkness." Their believing in Christ, and spiritually seeing him, are spoken of as running parallel. Christ condemns the Jews, that they did not know that he was the Messiah, and that his doctrine was true, from an inward distinguishing taste and relish of what was divine, in Luke xii. 56, 57. He having there blamed the Jews, that though they could discern the face of the sky and of the earth, and signs of the weather, that yet they could not discern those times--or, as 'tis expressed in Matthew, the signs of those times--he adds, yea, and why even of your own selves judge ye not what is right? i.e., without extrinsic signs. Why have ye not that sense of true excellency, whereby ye may distinguish that which is holy and divine? Why have ye not that savor of the things of God, by which you may see the distinguishing glory and evident divinity of me and my doctrine? The Apostle Peter mentions it as what gave them (the apostles) good and well grounded assurance of the truth of the gospel, that they had seen the divine glory of Christ, 2 Pet. i. 16: "For we have not followed cunningly devised fables when we made known unto you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but were eyewitnesses of his majesty." The apostle has respect to that visible glory of Christ which they saw in his transfiguration: that glory was so divine, having such an ineffable appearance and semblance of divine holiness, majesty and grace, that it evidently denoted him to be a divine person. But if a sight of Christ's outward glory might give a rational assurance of his divinity, why may not an apprehension of his spiritual glory do so too? Doubtless Christ's spiritual glory is in itself as distinguishing, and as plainly showing his divinity, as his outward glory; and a great deal more: for his spiritual glory is that wherein his divinity consists; and the outward glory of his transfiguration showed him to be divine, only as it was a remarkable image or representation of that spiritual glory. Doubtless, therefore, he that has had a clear sight of the spiritual glory of Christ, may say, I have not followed cunningly devised fables, but have been an eyewitness of his majesty, upon as good grounds as the apostle, when he had respect to the outward glory of Christ that he had seen. But this brings me to what was proposed next, viz., to show that, Secondly, This doctrine is _rational_. 1. 'Tis rational to suppose that _there is really such an excellency_ in divine things, that is so transcendent and exceedingly different from what is in other things, that, if it were seen, would most evidently distinguish them. We cannot rationally doubt but that things that are divine, that appertain to the Supreme Being, are vastly different from things that are human; that there is that godlike, high and glorious excellency in them, that does most remarkably difference them from the things that are of men; insomuch that if the difference were but seen, it would have a convincing, satisfying influence upon any one, that they are what they are, viz., divine. What reason can be offered against it? Unless we would argue, that God is not remarkably distinguished in glory from men. If Christ should now appear to any one as he did on the mount at his transfiguration; or if he should appear to the world in the glory that he now appears in in heaven as he will do at the day of judgment; without doubt, the glory and majesty that he would appear in, would be such as would satisfy every one that he was a divine person, and that religion was true: and it would be a most reasonable and well grounded conviction too. And why may there not be that stamp of divinity or divine glory on the word of God, on the scheme and doctrine of the gospel, that may be in like manner distinguishing and as rationally convincing, provided it be but seen! 'Tis rational to suppose that when God speaks to the world, there should be something in his word or speech vastly different from men's word. Supposing that God never had spoken to the world, but we had noticed that he was about to do it; that he was about to reveal himself from heaven and speak to us immediately himself, in divine speeches or discourses, as it were from his own mouth, or that he should give us a book of his own inditing: after what manner should we expect that he would speak? Would it not be rational to suppose that his speech would be exceeding different from men's speech, that he should speak like a God; that is, that there should be such an excellency and sublimity in his speech or word, such a stamp of wisdom, holiness, majesty and other divine perfections, that the word of men, yea of the wisest of men, should appear mean and base in comparison of it? Doubtless it would be thought rational to expect this, and unreasonable to think otherwise. When a wise man speaks in the exercise of his wisdom, there is something in every thing he says that is very distinguishable from the talk of a little child. So, without doubt, and much more, is the speech of God (if there be any such thing as the speech of God) to be distinguished from that of the wisest of men; agreeable to Jer. xxiii. 28, 29. God having there been reproving the false prophets that prophesied in his name and pretended that what they spake was his word, when indeed it was their own word, says, "The prophet that hath a dream, let him tell a dream; and he that hath my word, let him speak my word faithfully. What is the chaff to the wheat? saith the Lord. Is not my word like as a fire? saith the Lord; and like a hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces?" 2. If there be such a distinguishing excellency in divine things, 'tis rational to suppose that _there may be such a thing as seeing it_. What should hinder but that it may be seen! It is no argument, that there is no such thing as such a distinguishing excellency, or that, if there be, that it can't be seen, that some don't see it, though they may be discerning men in temporal matters. It is not rational to suppose, if there be any such excellency in divine things, that wicked men should see it. 'Tis not rational to suppose that those whose minds are full of spiritual pollution, and under the power of filthy lusts, should have any relish or sense of divine beauty or excellency; or that their minds should be susceptive of that light that is in its own nature so pure and heavenly. It need not seem at all strange that sin should so blind the mind, seeing that men's particular natural tempers and dispositions will so much blind them in secular matters; as when men's natural temper is melancholy, jealous, fearful, proud, or the like. 3. 'Tis rational to suppose that _this knowledge should be given immediately by God_, and not be obtained by natural means. Upon what account should it seem unreasonable, that there should be any immediate communication between God and the creature? It is strange that men should make any matter of difficulty of it. Why should not he that made all things, still have something immediately to do with the things that he has made? Where lies the great difficulty, if we own the being of a God, and that he created all things out of nothing, of allowing some immediate influence of God on the creation still? And if it be reasonable to suppose it with respect to any part of the creation, it is especially so with respect to reasonable, intelligent creatures; who are next to God in the gradation of the different orders of beings, and whose business is most immediately with God; who were made on purpose for those exercises that do respect God and wherein they have nextly to do with God: for reason teaches, that man was made to serve and glorify his Creator. And if it be rational to suppose that God immediately communicates himself to man in any affair, it is in this. 'Tis rational to suppose that God would reserve that knowledge and wisdom, that is of such a divine and excellent nature, to be bestowed immediately by himself, and that it should not be left in the power of second causes. Spiritual wisdom and grace is the highest and most excellent gift that ever God bestows on any creature: in this the highest excellency and perfection of a rational creature consists. 'Tis also immensely the most important of all divine gifts: 'tis that wherein man's happiness consists, and on which his everlasting welfare depends. How rational is it to suppose that God, however he has left meaner goods and lower gifts to second causes, and in some sort in their power, yet should reserve this most excellent, divine and important of all divine communications in his own hands, to be bestowed immediately by himself, as a thing too great for second causes to be concerned in! 'Tis rational to suppose that this blessing should be immediately from God; for there is no gift or benefit that is in itself so nearly related to the divine nature, there is nothing the creature receives that is so much of God, of his nature, so much a participation of the deity: 'tis a kind of emanation of God's beauty, and is related to God as the light is to the sun. 'Tis therefore congruous and fit, that when it is given of God, it should be nextly from himself, and by himself, according to his own sovereign will. 'Tis rational to suppose that it should be beyond a man's power to obtain this knowledge and light by the mere strength of natural reason; for 'tis not a thing that belongs to reason, to see the beauty and loveliness of spiritual things; it is not a speculative thing, but depends on the sense of the heart. Reason, indeed, is necessary in order to it, as 'tis by reason only that we are become the subjects of the means of it; which means I have already shown to be necessary in order to it, though they have no proper causal influence in the affair. 'Tis by reason that we become possessed of a notion of those doctrines that are the subject matter of this divine light; and reason may many ways be indirectly and remotely an advantage to it. And reason has also to do in the acts that are immediately consequent on this discovery: a seeing the truth of religion from hence is by reason; though it be but by one step, and the inference be immediate. So reason has to do in that accepting of, and trusting in Christ, that is consequent on it. But if we take reason strictly, not for the faculty of mental perception in general, but for ratiocination, or a power of inferring by arguments; I say, if we take reason thus, the perceiving of spiritual beauty and excellency no more belongs to reason than it belongs to the sense of feeling to perceive colors, or to the power of seeing to perceive the sweetness of food. It is out of reason's province to perceive the beauty or loveliness of any thing: such a perception don't belong to that faculty. Reason's work is to perceive truth and not excellency. It is not ratiocination that gives men the perception of the beauty and amiableness of a countenance, though it may be many ways indirectly an advantage to it; yet 'tis no more reason that immediately perceives it than it is reason that perceives the sweetness of honey: it depends on the sense of the heart. Reason may determine that a countenance is beautiful to others, it may determine that honey is sweet to others; but it will never give me a perception of its sweetness.--I will conclude with a very brief IMPROVEMENT of what has been said. First, This doctrine may lead us to reflect on the goodness of God, that has so ordered it, that a saving evidence of the truth of the gospel is such as is attainable by persons of mean capacities and advantages, as well as those that are of the greatest parts and learning. If the evidence of the gospel depended only on history, and such reasonings as learned men only are capable of, it would be above the reach of far the greatest part of mankind. But persons with but an ordinary degree of knowledge are capable, without a long and subtile train of reasoning, to see the divine excellency of the things of religion: they are capable of being taught by the Spirit of God, as well as learned men. The evidence that is this way obtained is vastly better and more satisfying than all that can be obtained by the arguings of those that are most learned, and greatest masters of reason. And babes are as capable of knowing these things as the wise and prudent; and they are often hid from these when they are revealed to those: 1 Cor. i. 26, 27, "For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called. But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world...." Secondly, This doctrine may well put us upon examining ourselves, whether we have ever had this divine light that has been described let into our souls. If there be such a thing indeed, and it be not only a notion or whimsy of persons of weak and distempered brains, then doubtless 'tis a thing of great importance, whether we have thus been taught by the Spirit of God; whether the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, hath shined unto us, giving us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ; whether we have seen the Son, and believed on him, or have that faith of gospel doctrines that arises from a spiritual sight of Christ. Thirdly, All may hence be exhorted earnestly to seek this spiritual light. To influence and move to it, the following things may be considered. 1. This is the most _excellent and divine_ wisdom that any creature is capable of. 'Tis more excellent than any human learning; 'tis far more excellent than all the knowledge of the greatest philosophers or statesmen. Yea, the least glimpse of the glory of God in the face of Christ doth more exalt and ennoble the soul than all the knowledge of those that have the greatest speculative understanding in divinity without grace. This knowledge has the most noble object that is or can be, viz., the divine glory or excellency of God and Christ. The knowledge of these objects is that wherein consists the most excellent knowledge of the angels, yea, of God himself. 2. This knowledge is that which is above all others _sweet and joyful_. Men have a great deal of pleasure in human knowledge, in studies of natural things; but this is nothing to that joy which arises from this divine light shining into the soul. This light gives a view of those things that are immensely the most exquisitely beautiful, and capable of delighting the eye of the understanding. This spiritual light is the dawning of the light of glory in the heart. There is nothing so powerful as this to support persons in affliction, and to give the mind peace and brightness in this stormy and dark world. 3. This light is such as effectually influences the inclination, and _changes the nature of the soul_. It assimilates the nature to the divine nature, and changes the soul into an image of the same glory that is beheld: 2 Cor. iii. 18, "But we all, with open face, beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." This knowledge will wean from the world and raise the inclination to heavenly things. It will turn the heart to God as the fountain of good, and to choose him for the only portion. This light, and this only, will bring the soul to a saving close with Christ. It conforms the heart to the gospel, mortifies its enmity and opposition against the scheme of salvation therein revealed. It causes the heart to embrace the joyful tidings, and entirely to adhere to, and acquiesce in the revelation of Christ as our Saviour. It causes the whole soul to accord and symphonize with it, admitting it with entire credit and respect, cleaving to it with full inclination and affection; and it effectually disposes the soul to give up itself entirely to Christ. 4. This light, and this only, _has its fruit in an universal holiness of life_. No merely notional or speculative understanding of the doctrines of religion will ever bring to this. But this light, as it reaches the bottom of the heart, and changes the nature, so it will effectually dispose to an universal obedience. It shows God's worthiness to be obeyed and served. It draws forth the heart in a sincere love to God, which is the only principle of a true, gracious and universal obedience. And it convinces of the reality of those glorious rewards that God has promised to them that obey him. III RUTH'S RESOLUTION° RUTH i. 16.--And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. The historical things in this book of Ruth seem to be inserted into the canon of the Scripture especially on two accounts: First, Because Christ was of Ruth's posterity. The Holy Ghost thought fit to take particular notice of that marriage of Boaz with Ruth, whence sprang the Saviour of the world. We may often observe it, that the Holy Spirit who indited the Scriptures, often takes notice of little things, minute occurrences, that do but remotely relate to Jesus Christ. Secondly, Because this history seems to be typical of the calling of the Gentile church, and indeed of the conversion of every believer. Ruth was not originally of Israel, but was a Moabitess, an alien from the commonwealth of Israel: but she forsook her own people, and the idols of the Gentiles, to worship the God of Israel, and to join herself to that people. Herein she seems to be a type of the Gentile church, and also of every sincere convert. Ruth was the mother of Christ; he came of her posterity: so the church is Christ's mother, as she is represented, Rev. xii., at the beginning. And so also is every true Christian his mother: Matt. xii. 50, "Whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother." Christ is what the soul of every one of the elect is in travail with in the new birth. Ruth forsook all her natural relations and her own country, the land of her nativity, and all her former possessions there, for the sake of the God of Israel; as every true Christian forsakes all for Christ. Psalm xlv. 10, "Hearken, O daughter, and consider, and incline thine ear; forget also thine own people, and thy father's house." Naomi was now returning out of the land of Moab into the land of Israel with her two daughters in law, Orpah and Ruth; who will represent to us two sorts of professors of religion: Orpah, that sort that indeed make a fair profession, and seem to set out well, but dure but for a while, and then turn back; Ruth, that sort that are sound and sincere, and therefore are steadfast and persevering in the way that they have set out in. Naomi in the preceding verses represents to these her daughters the difficulties of their leaving their own country to go with her. And in this verse may be observed, 1. The remarkable conduct and behavior of Ruth on this occasion; with what inflexible resolution she cleaves to Naomi and follows her. When Naomi first arose to return from the country of Moab into the land of Israel, Orpah and Ruth both set out with her; and Naomi exhorts them both to return. And they both of them wept, and seemed as if they could not bear the thoughts of leaving her, and appeared as if they were resolved to go with her: verse 10, "And they said unto her, Surely we will return with thee unto thy people." Then Naomi says to them again, "Turn again, my daughters, go your way," &c. And then they were greatly affected again, and Orpah returned and went back. Now Ruth's steadfastness in her purpose had a greater trial, but yet is not overcome: "She clave unto her," verse 14. Then Naomi speaks to her again, verse 15, "Behold, thy sister in law is gone back unto her people, and unto her gods: return thou after thy sister in law." And then she shows her immovable resolution in the text and following verse. 2. I would particularly observe that wherein the virtuousness of this her resolution consists, viz., that it was for the sake of the God of Israel, and that she might be one of his people, that she was thus resolved to cleave to Naomi: "Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." It was for God's sake that she did thus; and therefore her so doing is afterwards spoken of as a virtuous behavior in her, chap. ii. 11, 12: "And Boaz answered and said unto her, It hath fully been showed me, all that thou hast done unto thy mother in law since the death of thine husband: and how thou hast left thy father, and thy mother, and the land of thy nativity, and art come unto a people which thou knewest not heretofore. The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust." She left her father and mother, and the land of her nativity, to come and trust under the shadow of God's wings: and she had indeed a full reward given her, as Boaz wished; for besides immediate spiritual blessings to her own soul and eternal rewards in another world, she was rewarded with plentiful and prosperous outward circumstances in the family of Boaz. And God raised up David and Solomon of her seed, and established the crown of Israel (the people that she chose before her own people) in her posterity; and--which is much more--of her seed he raised up Jesus Christ, in whom all the families of the earth are blessed. From the words thus opened, I observe this for the subject of my present discourse: _When those that we have formerly been conversant with, are turning to God, and joining themselves to his people, it ought to be our firm resolution, that we will not leave them; but that their people shall be our people, and their God our God._ It sometimes happens, that of those who have been conversant one with another, that have dwelt together as neighbors, and have been often together as companions, or have been united in near relation, and have been together in darkness, bondage and misery in the service of Satan, some are enlightened, and have their minds changed, are made to see the great evil of sin, and have their hearts turned to God, and are influenced by the Holy Spirit of God to leave their company that are on Satan's side to go and join themselves with that blessed company that are with Jesus Christ; they are made willing to forsake the tents of wickedness, to dwell in the land of uprightness with the people of God. And sometimes this proves a final parting or separation between them and those that they have been formerly conversant with. Though it may be no parting in outward respects, they may still dwell together and may converse one with another; yet in other respects, it sets them at a great distance one from another: one is a child of God, and the other the enemy of God; one is in a miserable, and the other in a happy condition; one is a citizen of the heavenly Zion, the other is under condemnation to hell. They are no longer together in those respects wherein they used to be together. They used to be of one mind to serve sin and do Satan's work; now they are of contrary minds. They used to be together in worldliness and sinful vanity; now they are of exceeding different dispositions. They are separated as they are in different kingdoms; the one remains in the kingdom of darkness, the other is translated into the kingdom of God's dear Son. And sometimes they are finally separated in these respects; while one dwells in the land of Israel, and in the house of God, the other, like Orpah, lives and dies in the land of Moab. Now 'tis lamentable when it is thus. 'Tis awful being parted so. 'Tis doleful, when of those that have formerly been together in sin, some turn to God, and join themselves with his people, that it should prove a parting between them and their former companions and acquaintance. It should be our firm and inflexible resolution in such a case that it shall be no parting, but that we will follow them, that their people shall be our people, and their God our God; and that for the following reasons: I. Because their _God_ is a glorious God. There is none like him, who is infinite in glory and excellency. He is the most high God, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders. His name is excellent in all the earth, and his glory is above the earth and the heavens. Among the gods there is none like unto him; there is none in heaven to be compared to him, nor are there any among the sons of the mighty that can be likened unto him. Their God is the fountain of all good, and an inexhaustible fountain; he is an all-sufficient God, able to protect and defend them, and do all things for them. He is the King of glory, the Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle: a strong rock, and a high tower. There is none like the God of Jeshurun, who rideth on the heaven in their help, and in his excellency on the sky. The eternal God is their refuge, and underneath are everlasting arms. He is a God that hath all things in his hands, and does whatsoever he pleases: he killeth and maketh alive; he bringeth down to the grave and bringeth up; he maketh poor and maketh rich: the pillars of the earth are the Lord's. Their God is an infinitely holy God; there is none holy as the Lord. And he is infinitely good and merciful. Many that others worship and serve as gods are cruel beings, spirits that seek the ruin of souls; but this is a God that delighteth in mercy; his grace is infinite and endures forever. He is love itself, an infinite fountain and ocean of it. Such a God is their God! Such is the excellency of Jacob! Such is the God of them who have forsaken their sins and are converted! They have made a wise choice who have chosen this for their God. They have made a happy exchange indeed, that have exchanged sin and the world for such a God! They have an excellent and glorious Saviour, who is the only-begotten Son of God; the brightness of his Father's glory; one in whom God from eternity had infinite delight; a Saviour of infinite love; one that has shed his own blood and made his soul an offering for their sins, and one that is able to save them to the uttermost. II. Their _people_ are an excellent and happy people. God has renewed them, and instamped his own image upon them, and made them partakers of his holiness. They are more excellent than their neighbors, Prov. xii. 26. Yea, they are the excellent of the earth, Psalm xvi. 3. They are lovely in the sight of the angels; and they have their souls adorned with those graces that in the sight of God himself are of great price. The people of God are the most excellent and happy society in the world. That God whom they have chosen for their God is their Father; he has pardoned all their sins, and they are st peace with him; and he has admitted them to all the privileges of his children. As they have devoted themselves to God, so God has given himself to them. He is become their salvation and their portion: his power and mercy and all his attributes are theirs. They are in a safe state, free from all possibility of perishing: Satan has no power to destroy them. God carries them on eagle's wings, far above Satan's reach, and above the reach of all the enemies of their souls. God is with them in this world; they have his gracious presence. God is for them; who then can be against them? As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so Jehovah is round about them. God is their shield and their exceeding great reward; and their fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. And they have the divine promise and oath that in the world to come they shall dwell forever in the glorious presence of God. It may well be sufficient to induce us to resolve to cleave to those that forsake their sins and idols to join themselves with this people, that God is with them, Zech. viii. 23: "Thus saith the Lord of hosts; In those days it shall come to pass, that ten men shall take hold out of all languages of the nations, even shall take hold of the skirt of him that is a Jew, saying, We will go with you: for we have heard that God is with you." So should persons as it were take hold of the skirt of their neighbors and companions that have turned to God, and resolve that they will go with them, because God is with them. III. _Happiness_ is nowhere else to be had, but in their God, and with their people. There are that are called gods many, and lords many. Some make gods of their pleasures; some choose Mammon for their god; some make gods of their own supposed excellencies, or the outward advantages they have above their neighbors: some choose one thing for their god, and others another. But men can be happy in no other God but the God of Israel: he is the only fountain of happiness. Other gods can't help in calamity; nor can any of them afford what the poor empty soul stands in need of. Let men adore those other gods never so much, and call upon them never so earnestly, and serve them never so diligently, they will nevertheless remain poor, wretched, unsatisfied, undone creatures. All other people are miserable, but that people whose God is the Lord.--The world is divided into two societies. There are the people of God, the little flock of Jesus Christ, that company that we read of, Rev. xiv. 4. "These are they which were not defiled with women; for they are virgins. These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. These were redeemed from among men, being the firstfruits unto God and to the Lamb." And there are those that belong to the kingdom of darkness, that are without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, strangers from the covenant of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world. All that are of this latter company are wretched and undone; they are the enemies of God, and under his wrath and condemnation. They are the devil's slaves, that serve him blindfold, and are befooled and ensnared by him, and hurried along in the broad way to eternal perdition. IV. When those that we have formerly been conversant with are turning to God, and to his people, their _example_ ought to influence us. Their example should be looked upon as the call of God to us to do as they have done. God, when he changes the heart of one, calls upon another; especially does he loudly call on those that have been their friends and acquaintance. We have been influenced by their examples in evil; and shall we cease to follow them when they make the wisest choice that ever they made, and do the best thing that ever they did? If we have been companions with them in worldliness, in vanity, in unprofitable and sinful conversation, it will be a hard case, if there must be a parting now, because we be not willing to be companions with them in holiness and true happiness. Men are greatly influenced by seeing one another's prosperity in other things. If those whom they have been much conversant with grow rich, and obtain any great earthly advantages, it awakens their ambition and eager desire after the like prosperity. How much more should they be influenced, and stirred up to follow them, and be like them, when they obtain that spiritual and eternal happiness that is of infinitely more worth than all the prosperity and glory of this world! V. Our resolutions to cleave to and follow those that are turning to God, and joining themselves to his people, ought to be _fixed_ and _strong_, because of the great difficulty of it. If we will cleave to them, and have their God for our God, and their people for our people, we must mortify and deny all our lusts, and cross every evil appetite and inclination, and forever part with all sin. But our lusts are many and violent. Sin is naturally exceeding dear to us; to part with it is compared to plucking out our right eyes. Men may refrain from wonted ways of sin for a little while, and may deny their lusts in a partial degree, with less difficulty; but 'tis heart-rending work, finally to part with all sin, and to give our dearest lusts a bill of divorce, utterly to send them away. But this we must do, if we would follow those that are truly turning to God. Yea, we must not only forsake sin, but must, in a sense, forsake all the world: Luke xiv. 33, "Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all he hath, he cannot be my disciple." That is, he must forsake all in his heart, and must come to a thorough disposition and readiness actually to quit all for God and the glorious spiritual privileges of his people, whenever the case may require it; and that without any prospect of any thing of the like nature, or any worldly thing whatsoever, to make amends for it; and all to go into a strange country, a land that has hitherto been unseen; like Abraham, who being called of God, "went out of his own country, and from his kindred, and from his father's house, for a land that God should show him, not knowing whither he went." Thus it was a hard thing for Ruth to forsake her native country and her father and mother, her kindred and acquaintance, and all the pleasant things she had in the land of Moab, to dwell in the land of Israel, where she never had been. Naomi told her of the difficulties once and again. They were too hard for her sister Orpah; the consideration of them turned her back after she was set out. Her resolution was not firm enough to overcome them. But so firmly resolved was Ruth, that she broke through all; she was steadfast in it, that, let the difficulty be what it would, she would not leave her mother in law. So persons had need to be very firm in their resolution to conquer the difficulties that are in the way of cleaving to them who are indeed turning from sin to God. Our cleaving to them, and having their God for our God and their people for our people, depends on our resolution and choice; and that in two respects. 1. The firmness of resolution in using means in order to it, is _the way to have means effectual_. There are means appointed in order to our becoming some of the true Israel and having their God for our God; and the thorough use of these means is the way to have success; but not a slack or slighty use of them. And that we may be thorough, there is need of strength of resolution, a firm and inflexible disposition and bent of mind to be universal in the use of means, and to do what we do with our might, and to persevere in it. Matt. xi. 12, "The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force." 2. A choosing of their God and their people, with a full determination and with the whole soul, is _the condition of an union with them_. God gives every man his choice in this matter: as Orpah and Ruth had their choice, whether they would go with Naomi into the land of Israel, or stay in the land of Moab. A natural man may choose deliverance from hell; but no man doth ever heartily choose God and Christ, and the spiritual benefits that Christ has purchased, and the happiness of God's people, till he is converted. On the contrary, he is averse to them; he has no relish of them; and is wholly ignorant of the inestimable worth and value of them. Many carnal men do seem to choose these things, but do it not really: as Orpah seemed at first to choose to forsake Moab to go into the land of Israel. But when Naomi came to set before her the difficulty of it, she went back; and thereby showed that she was not fully determined in her choice, and that her whole soul was not in it as Ruth's was. APPLICATION The use that I shall make of what has been said is to move sinners to this resolution, with respect to those amongst us that have lately turned to God, and joined themselves to the flock of Christ. Through the abundant mercy and grace of God to us in this place, it may be said of many of you that are in a Christless condition, that you have lately been left by those that were formerly with you in such a state. There are those that you have formerly been conversant with that have lately forsaken a life of sin and the service of Satan, and have turned to God, and fled to Christ, and joined themselves to that blessed company that are with him. They formerly were with you in sin and in misery; but now they are with you no more in that state or manner of life. They are changed, and have fled from the wrath to come; they have chosen a life of holiness here and the enjoyment of God hereafter. They were formerly your associates in bondage, and were with you in Satan's business; but now you have their company no longer in these things. Many of you have seen those you live with, under the same roof, turning from being any longer with you in sin, to be with the people of Jesus Christ. Some of you that are husbands have had your wives; and some of you that are wives have had your husbands; some of you that are children have had your parents; and parents have had your children; many of you have had your brothers and sisters; and many your near neighbors and acquaintance and special friends; many of you that are young have had your companions: I say, many of you have had those that you have been thus concerned with, leaving you, forsaking that doleful life and wretched state that you still continue in. God, of his good pleasure and wonderful grace, hath lately caused it to be so in this place that multitudes have been forsaking their old abodes in the land of Moab, and under the gods of Moab, and going into the land of Israel, to put their trust under the wings of the Lord God of Israel. Though you and they have been nearly related, and have dwelt together, or have been often together and intimately acquainted one with another, they have been taken and you hitherto left. O let it not be the foundation of a final parting! But earnestly follow them; be firm in your resolution in this matter. Don't do as Orpah did, who, though at first she made as though she would follow Naomi, yet when she had the difficulty of it set before her went back: but say as Ruth, "I will not leave thee; but where thou goest, I will go: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." Say as she said, and do as she did. Consider the excellency of their God and their Saviour, and the happiness of their people, the blessed state that they are in, and the doleful state that you are in. You who are old sinners, who have lived long in the service of Satan, have lately seen some that were with you, that have travelled with you in the paths of sin these many years, that with you enjoyed great means and advantages, that have had calls and warnings with you, and have with you passed through remarkable times of the pouring out of God's Spirit in this place, and have hardened their hearts and stood it out with you, and with you have grown old in sin; I say, you have seen some of them turning to God, i.e., you have seen those evidences of it in them, whence you may rationally judge that it is so. O let it not be a final parting! You have been thus long together in sin, and under condemnation; let it be your firm resolution, that, if possible, you will be with them still, now they are in a holy and happy state, and that you will follow them into the holy and pleasant land. You that tell of your having been seeking salvation for many years, though, without doubt, in a poor dull way, in comparison of what you ought to have done, have seen some that have been with you in that respect, that were old sinners and old seekers, as you are, obtaining mercy. God has lately roused them from their dulness, and caused them to alter their hand, and put them on more thorough endeavors; and they have now, after so long a time, heard God's voice, and have fled for refuge to the Rock of Ages. Let this awaken earnestness and resolution in you. Resolve that you will not leave them. You that are in your youth, how many have you seen of your age and standing that have of late hopefully chosen God for their God and Christ for their Saviour! You have followed them in sin, and have perhaps followed them into vain company; and will you not now follow them to Christ? And you that are children, there have lately been some of your sort that have repented of their sins, and have loved the Lord Jesus Christ, and trusted in him, and are become God's children, as we have reason to hope: let it stir you up to resolve to your utmost to seek and cry to God, that you may have the like change made in your hearts, that their people may be your people, and their God your God. You that are great sinners, that have made yourselves distinguishingly guilty by the wicked practices you have lived in, there are some of your sort that have lately (as we have reason to hope) had their hearts broken for sin, and have forsaken it, and trusted in the blood of Christ for the pardon of it, and have chosen a holy life, and have betaken themselves to the ways of wisdom: let it excite and encourage you resolutely to cleave to them and earnestly to follow them. Let the following things be here considered:-- 1. That your soul is as precious as theirs. It is immortal as theirs is; and stands in as much need of happiness, and can as ill bear eternal misery. You were born in the same miserable condition that they were, having the same wrath of God abiding on you. You must stand before the same Judge; who will be as strict in judgment with you as with them; and your own righteousness will stand you in no more stead before him than theirs; and therefore you stand in as absolute necessity of a Saviour as they. Carnal confidences can no more answer your end than theirs; nor can this world or its enjoyments serve to make you happy without God and Christ more than them. When the bridegroom comes, the foolish virgins stand in as much need of oil as the wise, Matt. xxv. at the beginning. 2. Unless you follow them in their turning to God, their conversion will be a foundation of an eternal separation between you and them. You will be in different interests and in exceeding different states, as long as you live; they the children of God, and you the children of Satan; and you will be parted in another world; when you come to die, there will be a vast separation made between you: Luke xvi. 26, "And besides all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed: so that they which would pass from hence to you, cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would come from thence." And you will be parted at the day of judgment. You will be parted at Christ's first appearance in the clouds of heaven. While they are caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, to be ever with the Lord, you will remain below, confined to this cursed ground, that is kept in store, reserved unto fire, against the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men. You will appear separated from them while you stand before the great judgment-seat, they being at the right hand, while you are set at the left: Matt. xxv. 32, 33, "And before him shall be gathered all nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats: and he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left." And you shall then appear in exceeding different circumstances. While you stand with devils, in the image and deformity of devils, and in ineffable horror and amazement, they shall appear in glory, sitting upon thrones, as assessors with Christ, and as such passing judgment upon you, 1 Cor. vi. 2. And what shame and confusion will then cover you, when so many of your contemporaries, your equals, your neighbors, relations and companions, shall be honored, and openly acknowledged and confessed by the glorious Judge of the universe and Redeemer of saints, and shall be seen by you sitting with him in such glory, and you shall appear to have neglected your salvation, and not to have improved your opportunities, and rejected the Lord Jesus Christ, the same person that will then appear as your great Judge, and you shall be the subjects of wrath, and, as it were, trodden down in eternal contempt and disgrace! Dan. xii. 2, "Some shall rise to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt." And what a wide separation will the sentence then passed and executed make between you and them! When you shall be sent away out of the presence of the Judge with indignation and abhorrence, as cursed and loathsome creatures, and they shall be sweetly accosted and invited into his glory as his dear friends and the blessed of his Father! When you, with all that vast throng of wicked and accursed men and devils, shall descend with loud lamentings and horrid shrieks into that dreadful gulf of fire and brimstone, and shall be swallowed up in that great and everlasting furnace, while they shall joyfully, and with sweet songs of glory and praise, ascend with Christ, and all that beauteous and blessed company of saints and angels, into eternal felicity, in the glorious presence of God, and the sweet embraces of his love; and you and they shall spend eternity in such a separation and immensely different circumstances! And that however you have been intimately acquainted and nearly related, closely united and mutually conversant here in this world; and how much soever you have taken delight in each other's company! Shall it be so after you have been together a great while, each of you in undoing yourselves, enhancing your guilt, and heaping up wrath, that their so wisely changing their minds and their course, and choosing such happiness for themselves, should now at length be the beginning of such an exceeding and everlasting separation between you and them? How awful will it be to be parted so! 3. Consider the great encouragement that God gives you, earnestly to strive for the same blessing that others have obtained. There is great encouragement in the word of God to sinners to seek salvation, in the revelation we have of the abundant provision made for the salvation even of the chief of sinners, and in the appointment of so many means to be used with and by sinners, in order to their salvation; and by the blessing which God in his word connects with the means of his appointment. There is hence great encouragement for all, at all times, that will be thorough in using of these means. But now God gives extraordinary encouragement in his providence, by pouring out his Spirit so remarkably amongst us, and bringing savingly home to himself all sorts, young and old, rich and poor, wise and unwise, sober and vicious, old self-righteous seekers and profligate livers: no sort are exempt. There is now at this day amongst us the loudest call and the greatest encouragement and the widest door open to sinners, to escape out of a state of sin and condemnation that perhaps God ever granted in New England. Who is there that has an immortal soul so sottish as not to improve such an opportunity, and that won't bestir himself with all his might now? How unreasonable is negligence, and how exceeding unseasonable is discouragement, at such a day as this! Will you be so stupid as to neglect your soul now? Will any mortal amongst us be so unreasonable as to lag behind, or look back in discouragement when God opens such a door? Let every single person be thoroughly awake! Let every one encourage himself now to press forward, and fly for his life! 4. Consider how earnestly desirous they that have obtained are that you should follow them, and that their people should be your people, and their God your God. They desire that you should partake of that great good that God has given them, and that unspeakable and eternal blessedness that he has promised them. They wish and long for it. If you do not go with them, and are not still of their company, it won't be for want of their willingness, but your own. That of Moses to Hobab is the language of every true saint of your acquaintance to you, Numb. x. 29, "We are journeying unto the place of which the Lord said, I will give it you: come thou with us, and we will do thee good: for the Lord hath spoken good concerning Israel." As Moses, when on his journey through the wilderness, following the pillar of cloud and fire, invited Hobab, that he had been acquainted with and nearly allied to out of the land of Midian, where Moses had formerly dwelt with him, to go with him and his people to Canaan, to partake with them in the good that God had promised them; so do those of your friends and acquaintance invite you, out of a land of darkness and wickedness, where they have formerly been with you, to go with them to the heavenly Canaan. The company of saints, the true church of Christ, invite you. The lovely bride calls you to the marriage supper. She hath authority to invite guests to her own wedding; and you ought to look on her invitation and desire as the call of Christ the bridegroom; for it is the voice of his Spirit in her: Rev. xxii. 17, "The Spirit and the bride say, Come." Where seems to be a reference to what had been said, chap. xix. 7-9, "The marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready. And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints. And he saith unto me, Write, Blessed are they which are called to the marriage supper of the Lamb." 'Tis with respect to this her marriage supper that she, from the motion of the Spirit of the Lamb in her, says, Come. So that you are invited on all hands; all conspire to call you. God the Father invites you: this is the King that has made a marriage for his Son; and he sends forth his servants, the ministers of the gospel, to invite the guests. And the Son himself invites you: 'tis he that speaks, Rev. xvii. 17, "And let him that heareth say, Come; and let him that is athirst, come; and whosoever will, let him come." He tells us who he is in the foregoing verse, "I Jesus, the root and offspring of David, the bright and morning star." And God's ministers invite you, and all the church invites you; and there will be joy in the presence of the angels of God that hour that you accept the invitation. 5. Consider what a doleful company that will be that be left after this extraordinary time of mercy is over. We have reason to think that there will be a number left. We read that when Ezekiel's healing waters increased so abundantly, and the healing effect of them was so very general; yet there were certain places, where the water came, that never were healed: Ezek. xlvii. 9-11, "And it shall come to pass, that every thing that liveth, which moveth, whithersoever the rivers shall come, shall live: and there shall be a very great multitude of fish, because these waters shall come thither: for they shall be healed; and every thing shall live whither the river cometh. And it shall come to pass, that the fishers shall stand upon it from En-gedi even unto En-eglaim; they shall be a place to spread forth nets; their fish shall be according to their kinds, as the fish of the great sea, exceeding many. But the miry places thereof and the marshes thereof shall not be healed; they shall be given to salt." And even in the apostles' times, when there was such wonderful success of the gospel, yet wherever they came, there were some that did not believe: Acts xiii. 48, "And when the Gentiles heard this, they were glad, and glorified the word of the Lord; and as many as were ordained to eternal life, believed." And chap. xxviii. 24, "And some believed, and some believed not." So we have no reason to expect but there will be some left amongst us. 'Tis to be hoped it will be a small company. But what a doleful company will it be! How darkly and awfully will it look upon them! If you shall be of that company, how well may your friends and relations lament over you, and bemoan your dark and dangerous circumstances! If you would not be one of them, make haste, delay not and look not behind you. Shall all sorts obtain, shall every one press into the kingdom of God, while you stay loitering behind in a doleful undone condition? Shall every one take heaven, while you remain with no other portion but this world? Now take up that resolution, that if it be possible you will cleave to them that have fled for refuge to lay hold of the hope set before them. Count the cost of a thorough, violent, and perpetual pursuit of salvation, and forsake all, as Ruth forsook her own country and all her pleasant enjoyments in it. Don't do as Orpah did; who set out, and then was discouraged, and went back: but hold out with Ruth through all discouragement and opposition. When you consider others that have chosen the better part, let that resolution be ever firm with you: "Where thou goest, I will go; where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." IV THE MANY MANSIONS° JOHN xiv. 2.--In my Father's house are many mansions. In these words may be observed two things, 1. The thing described, viz., Christ's Father's house. Christ spoke to his disciples in the foregoing chapter as one that was about to leave them. He told 'em, verse 31, "Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him," and then goes to giving of them counsel to live in unity and love one another, as one that was going from them. By which they seemed somewhat surprised and hardly knew what to make of it. And one of them, viz., Peter, asked him where he was going; verse 36, "Simon Peter said unto him, Lord, whither goest thou?" Christ did not directly answer and tell him where he was going, but he signifies where in these words of the text, viz., to his Father's house, i.e., to heaven, and afterwards, in the verse 12, he tells 'em plainly that he was going to his Father. 2. We may observe the description given of it, viz., that in it there are many mansions. The disciples seemed very sorrowful at the news of Christ's going away, but Christ comforts 'em with that, that in his Father's house where he was going there was not only room for him, but room for them too. There were many mansions. There was not only a mansion there for him, but there were mansions enough for them all; there was room enough in heaven for them. When the disciples perceived that Christ was going away, they manifested a great desire to go with him, and particularly Peter. Peter in the latter part of the foregoing chapter asked him whither he went to that end that he might follow him. Christ told him that whither he went he could not follow him now, but that he should follow him afterwards. But Peter, not content with Christ, seemed to have a great mind to follow him now. "Lord," says he, "why cannot I follow thee now?" So that the disciples had a great mind still to be with Christ, and Christ in the words of the text intimates that they shall be with him. Christ signifies to 'em that he was going home to his Father's house, and he encourages 'em that they shall be with him there in due time, in that there were many mansions there. There was a mansion provided not only for him, but for them all (for Judas was not then present), and not only for them, but for all that should ever believe in him to the end of the world; and though he went before, he only went to prepare a place for them that should follow. The text is a plain sentence; 'tis therefore needless to press any doctrine in other words from it: so that I shall build my discourse on the words of the text. There are two propositions contained in the words, viz., I, that heaven is God's house, and II, that in this house of God there are many mansions. Prop. I. Heaven is God's house. An house of public worship is an house where God's people meet from time to time to attend on God's ordinances, and that is set apart for that and is called God's house. The temple of Solomon was called God's house. God was represented as dwelling there. There he had his throne in the holy of holies, even the mercy-seat over the ark and between the cherubims. Sometimes the whole universe is represented in Scripture as God's house, built with various stories one above another: Amos ix. 6, "It is he that buildeth his stories in the heaven;" and Ps. civ. 3, "Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters." But the highest heaven is especially represented in Scripture as the house of God. As to other parts of the creation, God hath appointed them to inferior uses; but this part he has reserved for himself for his own abode. We are told that the heavens are the Lord's, but the earth he hath given to the sons of men. God, though he is everywhere present, is represented both in Old Testament and New as being in heaven in a special and peculiar manner. Heaven is the temple of God. Thus we read of God's temple in heaven, Rev. xv. 5. Solomon's temple was a type of heaven; it was made exceeding magnificent and, costly partly to that end, that it might be the most lively type of heaven. The apostle Paul in his epistle to the Hebrews does from time to time call heaven the holy of holies, as being the antitype not only of the temple of Solomon, but of the most holy place in that temple, which was the place of God's most immediate residence: Heb. ix. 12, "He entered in once into the holy place;" verse 24, "For Christ is not entered into the holy places made with hands, which are the figures of the true, but into heaven itself." Houses where assemblies of Christians worship God are in some respects figures of this house of God above. When God is worshipped in them in spirit and truth, they become the outworks of heaven and as it were its gates. As in houses of public worship here there are assemblies of Christians meeting to worship God, so in heaven there is a glorious assembly, or Church, continually worshipping God: Heb. xii. 22, 23, "But ye are come unto mount Sion, [and unto] the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn, that are written in heaven." Heaven is represented in Scripture as God's dwelling-house; Ps. cxiii. 5, "Who is like [unto] the Lord our God, who dwelleth on high," and Ps. cxxiii. 1, "Unto thee I lift up mine eyes, O thou that dwellest in the heavens." Heaven is God's palace. 'Tis the house of the great King of the universe; there he has his throne, which is therefore represented as his house or temple; Ps. xi. 4, "The Lord is in his holy temple; the Lord's throne is in heaven." Heaven is the house where God dwells with his family. God is represented in Scripture as having a family; and though some of this family are now on earth, yet in so being they are abroad and not at home, but all going home: Eph. iii. 15, "Of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named." Heaven is the place that God has built for himself and his children. God has many children, and the place designed for them is heaven; therefore the saints, being the children of God, are said to be of the household of God, Eph. ii. 19: "Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of God." God is represented as a householder or head of a family, and heaven is his house. Heaven is the house not only where God hath his throne, but also where he doth as it were keep his table, where his children sit down with him at his table and where they are feasted in a royal manner becoming the children of so great a King: Luke xxii. 30, "That ye may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom;" Matt. xxvi. 29, "But I say unto you, I will not drink henceforth of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom." God is the King of kings, and heaven is the place where he keeps his court. There are his angels and archangels that as the nobles of his court do attend upon him. Prop. II. There are many mansions in the house of God. By many mansions is meant many seats or places of abode. As it is a king's palace, there are many mansions. Kings' houses are wont to be built very large, with many stately rooms and apartments. So there are many mansions in God's house. When this is spoken of heaven, it is chiefly to be understood in a figurative sense, and the following things seem to be taught us in it. 1. There is room in this house of God for great numbers. There is room in heaven for a vast multitude, yea, room enough for all mankind that are or ever shall be; Luke xiv. 22, "Lord it is done as thou hast commanded, and yet there is room." It is not with the heavenly temple as it often is with houses of public worship in this world, that they fill up and become too small and scanty for those that would meet in them, so that there is not convenient room for all. There is room enough in our heavenly Father's house. This is partly what Christ intended in the words of the text, as is evident from the occasion of his speaking them. The disciples manifested a great desire to be where Christ was, and Christ therefore, to encourage them that it should be as they desired, tells them that in his Father's house where he was going were many mansions, i.e., room enough for them. There is mercy enough in God to admit an innumerable multitude into heaven. There is mercy enough for all, and there is merit enough in Christ to purchase heavenly happiness for millions of millions, for all men that ever were, are or shall be. And there is a sufficiency in the fountain of heaven's happiness to supply and fill and satisfy all: and there is in all respects enough for the happiness of all. 2. There are sufficient and suitable accommodations for all the different sorts of persons that are in the world: for great and small, for high and low, rich and poor, wise and unwise, bond and free, persons of all nations and all conditions and circumstances, for those that have been great sinners as well as for moral livers; for weak saints and those that are babes in Christ as well as for those that are stronger and more grown in grace. There is in heaven a sufficiency for the happiness of every sort; there is a convenient accommodation for every creature that will hearken to the calls of the Gospel. None that will come to Christ, let his condition be what it will, need to fear but that Christ will provide a place suitable for him in heaven. This seems to be another thing implied in Christ's words. The disciples were persons of very different condition from Christ: he was their Master, and they were his disciples; he was their Lord, and they were the servants; he was their Guide, and they were the followers; he was their Captain, and they the soldiers; he was the Shepherd, and they the sheep; [he was, as it were, the] Father, [and they the] children; he was the glorious, holy Son of God, they were poor, sinful, corrupt men. But yet, though they were in such different circumstances from him, yet Christ encourages them that there shall not only be room in heaven for him, but for them too; for there were many mansions there. There was not only a mansion to accommodate the Lord, but the disciples also; not only the head, but the members; not only the Son of God, but those that are naturally poor, sinful, corrupt men: as in a king's palace there is not only a mansion or room of state built for the king himself and for his eldest son and heir, but there are many rooms, mansions for all his numerous household, children, attendants and servants. 3. It is further implied that heaven is a house that was actually built and prepared for a great multitude. When God made heaven in the beginning of the world, he intended it for an everlasting dwelling-place for a vast and innumerable multitude. When heaven was made, it was intended and prepared for all those particular persons that God had from eternity designed to save: Matt. xxv. 34, "Come, ye blessed [of my Father, inherit the Kingdom] prepared for you [from the foundation of the world]." And that is a very great and innumerable multitude: Rev. vii. 9, "After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and peoples, and tongues, stood before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes." Heaven being built designedly for these was built accordingly; it was built so as most conveniently to accommodate all this multitude: as a house that is built for a great family is built large and with many rooms in it; as a palace that is built for a great king that keeps a great court with many attendants is built exceeding great with a great many apartments; and as an house of public worship that is built for a great congregation is built very large with many seats in it. 4. When it is said, ["In my father's house are many mansions"], it is meant that there are seats of various dignity and different degrees and circumstances of honor and happiness. There are many mansions in God's house because heaven is intended for various degrees of honor and blessedness. Some are designed to sit in higher places there than others; some are designed to be advanced to higher degrees of honor and glory than others are; and, therefore, there are various mansions, and some more honorable mansions and seats, in heaven than others. Though they are all seats of exceeding honor and blessedness, yet some are more so than others. Thus a palace is built. Though every part of the palace is magnificent as becomes the palace of a king, yet there are many apartments of various honor, and some are more stately and costly than others, according to the degree of dignity. There is one apartment that is the king's presence-chamber; there are other apartments for the next heir to the crown; there are others for other children; and others for their attendants and the great officers of the household: one for the high steward, and another for the chamberlain, and others for meaner officers and servants. Another image of this was in Solomon's temple. There were many mansions of different degrees of honor and dignity. There was the holy of holies, where the ark was that was the place of God's immediate residence, where the high priest alone might come; and there was another apartment called the holy place, where the other priests might come; and next to that was the inner court of the temple, where the Levites were admitted: and there they had many chambers or mansions built for lodging-rooms for the priests; and next to that was the court of Israel where the people of Israel might come; and next to that was the court of the Gentiles where the Gentiles, those that were called the "Proselytes of the Gate," might come. And we have an image of this in houses built for the worship of Christian assemblies. In such houses of God there are many seats of different honor and dignity, from the most honorable to the most inferior of the congregation. Not that we are to understand the words of Christ so much in a literal sense, as that every saint in heaven was to have a certain seat or room or place of abode where he was to be locally fixed. 'Tis not the design of the Scriptures to inform us much about the external circumstances of heaven or the state of heaven locally considered; but we are to understand what Christ says chiefly in a spiritual sense. Persons shall be set in different degrees of honor and glory in heaven, as is abundantly manifested in Scripture: which may fitly be represented to our imaginations by there being different seats of various honor, as it was in the temple, as it is in kings' courts. Some seats shall be nearer the throne than others. Some shall sit next to Christ in glory: Matt. xx. 23, "To sit on my right hand and on my left, is not mine to give, but it shall be given to them for whom it is prepared of my Father." Christ has doubtless respect to these different degrees of glory in the text. When he was going to heaven and the disciples were sorrowful at the thoughts of parting with their Lord, he lets them know that there are seats or mansions of various degrees of honor in his Father's house, that there was not only one for him, who was the Head of the Church and the elder brother, but also for them that were his disciples and younger brethren. Christ also may probably have respect not only to different degrees of glory in heaven, but different circumstances. Though the employment and happiness of all the heavenly assembly shall in the general be the same, yet 'tis not improbable that there may be circumstantial difference. We know what their employment [is] in general, but not in particular. We know not how one may be employed to subserve and promote the happiness of another, and all to help one another. Some may there be set in one place for one office or employment, and others [in] another, as 'tis in the Church on earth. God hath set every one in the body as it hath pleased him; one is the eye, another the ear, another the head, etc. But because God has not been pleased expressly to reveal how it shall be in this respect, therefore I shall not insist upon it, but pass to make some IMPROVEMENT of what has been offered. I. Here is encouragement for sinners that are concerned and exercised for the salvation of their souls, such as are afraid that they shall never go to heaven or be admitted to any place of abode there, and are sensible that they are hitherto in a doleful state and condition in that they are out of Christ, and so have no right to any inheritance in heaven, but are in danger of going to hell and having their place of eternal abode fixed there. You may be encouraged by what has been said, earnestly to seek heaven; for there are many mansions there. There is room enough there. Let your case be what it will, there is suitable provision there for you; and if you come to Christ, you need not fear but that he will prepare a place for you; he'll see to it that you shall be well accommodated in heaven. But II. I would improve this doctrine in a twofold exhortation. 1. Let all be hence exhorted earnestly to seek that they may be admitted to a mansion in heaven. You have heard that this is God's house; it is his temple. If David, when he was in the wilderness of Judah and in the land of Geshur and of the Philistines, so longed that he might again return into the land of Israel that he might have a place in the house of God here on earth, and prized a place there so much, though it was but that of a door-keeper, how great a happiness will it be to have a place in this heavenly temple of God! If they are looked upon as enjoying a high privilege that have a seat appointed them in kings' courts or in apartments in kings' palaces, especially those that have an abode there in the quality of the king's children, then how great a privilege will it be to have an apartment or mansion assigned to us in God's heavenly palace, and to have a place there as his children! How great is their glory and honor that are admitted to be of the household of God! And seeing there are many mansions there, mansions enough for us all, our folly will be the greater if we neglect to seek a place in heaven, having our minds foolishly taken up about the worthless, fading things of this world. Here consider three things: (1) How little a while you can have any mansion or place of abode in this world. Now you have a dwelling amongst the living. You have a house or mansion of your own, or at least one that is at present for your use, and now you have a seat in the house of God; but how little a while will this continue! In a very little while, and the place that now knows you in this world will know you no more. The habitation you have here will be empty of you; you will be carried dead out of it, or shall die at a distance from it, and never enter into it any more, or into any other abode in this world. Your mansion or place of abode in this world, however convenient or commodious it may be, is but as a tent that shall soon be taken down, but a lodge in a garden of cucumbers. Your stay is as it were but for a night. Your body itself is but a house of clay which will quickly moulder and tumble down, and you shall have no other habitation here in this world but the grave. Thus God in his providence is putting you in mind by the repeated instances of death that have been in the town within the two weeks past, both in one house: in which death he has shown his dominion over old and young. The son was taken away first before the father, being in his full strength and flower of his days; and the father, who was then well and having no appearance of approaching death, followed in a few days: and their habitation and their seat in the house of God in this world will know them no more. Take warning by these warnings of Providence to improve your time that you may have a mansion in heaven. We have a house of worship newly created amongst us which now you have a seat in, and probably are pleased with the ornaments of it; and though you have a place in so comely a house, yet you know not how little a while you shall have a place in this house of God. Here are a couple snatched away by death that had met in it but a few times, that have been snatched out of it before it was fully finished and never will have any more a seat in it. You know not how soon you may follow, and then of great importance will it be to you to have a seat in God's house above. Both of the persons lately deceased were much on their death-beds warning others to improve their precious time. The first of them was much in expressing his sense of the vast importance of an interest in Christ, as I was a witness, and was earnest in calling on others to improve their time, to be thorough, to get an interest in Christ, and seemed very desirous that young people might receive council and warning from him, as the words of a dying man, to do their utmost to make sure of conversion; and a little before he died left a request to me that I would warn the young people in his room. God has been warning of you in his death and the death of his father that so soon followed. The words of dying persons should be of special weight with us, for then they are in circumstances wherein they are most capable to look on things as they are and judge aright of 'em,--between both worlds as it were. Still that we must all be in. Let our young people, therefore, take warning from hence, and don't be such fools as to neglect seeking a place and mansion in heaven. Young persons are especially apt to be taken with the pleasing things of this world. You are now, it may be, much pleased with hopes of your future circumstances in this world; [and you are now, it may be, much] pleased with the ornaments of that house of worship that you with others have a place in. But, alas, do you not too little consider how soon you may be taken away from all these things, and no more forever have any part in any mansion or house or enjoyment or happiness under the sun? Therefore let it be your main care to secure an everlasting habitation for hereafter. (2) Consider when you die, if you have no mansion in the house of God in heaven, you must have your place of abode in the habitation of devils. There is no middle place between them, and when you go hence, you must go to one or the other of these. Some have a mansion prepared for them in heaven from the foundation [of the world]; others are sent away as cursed into everlasting burnings prepared for the [devil and his angels]. Consider how miserable those must be that shall have their habitation with devils to all eternity. Devils are foul spirits; God's great enemies. Their habitation is the blackness of darkness; a place of the utmost filthiness, abomination, darkness, disgrace and torment. O, how would you rather ten thousand times have no place of abode at all, have no being, than to have a place [with devils]! (3) If you die unconverted, you will have the worse place in hell for having had a seat or place in God's house in this world. As there are many mansions, places of different degrees of honor in heaven, so there are various abodes and places or degrees of torment and misery in hell; and those will have the worst place there that [dying unconverted, have had the best place in God's house here]. Solomon speaks of a peculiarly awful sight that he had seen, that of a wicked man buried that had gone [from the place of the holy], Eccl. viii. 10. Such as have had a seat in God's house, have been in a sense exalted up to heaven, set on the gate of heaven, [if they die unconverted, shall be] cast down to hell. 2. The second exhortation that I would offer from what has been said is to seek a high place in heaven. Seeing there are many mansions of different degrees of honor and dignity in heaven, let us seek to obtain a mansion of distinguished glory. 'Tis revealed to us that there are different degrees of glory to that end that we might seek after the higher degrees. God offered high degrees of glory to that end, that we might seek them by eminent holiness and good works: 2 Cor. ix. 6, "He that sows sparingly [shall reap also sparingly; and he that soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully]." It is not becoming persons to be over anxious about an high seat in God's house in this world, for that is the honor that is of men; but we can't too earnestly seek after an high seat in God's house above, by seeking eminent holiness, for that is the honor that is of God. 'Tis very little worth the while for us to pursue after honor in this world, where the greatest honor is but a bubble and will soon vanish away, and death will level all. Some have more stately houses than others, and some are in higher office than others, and some are richer than others and have higher seats in the meeting-house than others; but all graves are upon a level. One rotting, putrefying corpse is as ignoble as another; the worms are as bold with one carcass as another. But the mansions in God's house above are everlasting mansions. Those that have seats allotted 'em there, whether of greater or lesser dignity, whether nearer or further from the throne, will hold 'em to all eternity. This is promised, Rev. iii. 12: "Him that overcometh I will make him a pillar in the temple [of my God, and he shall go no more out]." If it be worth the while to desire and seek high seats in the meeting-house, where you are one day in a week, and where you shall never come but few days in all; if it be worth the while much to prize one seat above another in the house of worship only because it is the pew or seat that is ranked first in number, and to be seen here for a few days, how will it be worth the while to seek an high mansion in God's temple and in that glorious place that is the everlasting habitation of God and all his children! You that are pleased with your seats in this house because you are seated high or in a place that is looked upon honorable by those that sit round about, and because many can behold you, consider how short a time you will enjoy this pleasure. And if there be any that are not suited in their seats because they are too low for them, let them consider that it is but a very little while before it will [be] all one to you whether you have sat high or low here. But it will be of infinite and everlasting concern to you where your seat is in another world. Let your great concern be while in this world so to improve your opportunities in God's house in this world, whether you sit high or low, as that you may have a distinguished and glorious mansion in God's house in heaven, where you may be fixed in your place in that glorious assembly in an everlasting rest. Let the main thing that we prize in God's house be, not the outward ornaments of it, or a high seat in it, but the word of God and his ordinances in it. And spend your time here in seeking Christ, that he may prepare a place for you in his Father's house, that when he comes again to this world, he may take you to himself, that where he is, there you may be also. V SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD° DEUTERONOMY xxxii. 35.--Their foot shall slide in due time. In this verse is threatened the vengeance of God on the wicked unbelieving Israelites, that were God's visible people, and lived under means of grace; and that notwithstanding all God's wonderful works that he had wrought towards that people, yet remained, as is expressed verse 28, void of counsel, having no understanding in them; and that, under all the cultivations of heaven, brought forth bitter and poisonous fruit; as in the two verses next preceding the text. The expression that I have chosen for my text, _their foot shall slide in due time_, seems to imply the following things relating to the punishment and destruction that these wicked Israelites were exposed to. 1. That they were _always_ exposed to destruction; as one that stands or walks in slippery places is always exposed to fall. This is implied in the manner of their destruction's coming upon them, being represented by their foot's sliding. The same is expressed, Psalm lxxiii. 18: "Surely thou didst set them in slippery places; thou castedst them down into destruction." 2. It implies that they were always exposed to _sudden_, unexpected destruction; as he that walks in slippery places is every moment liable to fall, he can't foresee one moment whether he shall stand or fall the next; and when he does fall, he falls at once, without warning, which is also expressed in that Psalm lxxiii. 18, 19: "Surely thou didst set them in slippery places: thou castedst them down into destruction. How are they brought into desolation, as _in a moment_!" 3. Another thing implied is, that they are liable to fall of _themselves_, without being thrown down by the hand of another; as he that stands or walks on slippery ground needs nothing but his own weight to throw him down. 4. That the reason why they are not fallen already, and don't fall now, is only that God's appointed time is not come. For it is said that when that due time, or appointed time comes, _their foot shall slide_. Then they shall be left to fall, as they are inclined by their own weight. God won't hold them up in these slippery places any longer, but will let them go; and then, at that very instant, they shall fall to destruction; as he that stands in such slippery declining ground on the edge of a pit that he can't stand alone, when he is let go he immediately falls and is lost. The observation from the words that I would now insist upon is this, _There is nothing that keeps wicked men at any one moment out of hell, but the mere pleasure of God._ By the mere pleasure of God, I mean his sovereign pleasure, his arbitrary will, restrained by no obligation, hindered by no manner of difficulty, any more than if nothing else but God's mere will had in the least degree or in any respect whatsoever any hand in the preservation of wicked men one moment. The truth of this observation may appear by the following considerations. 1. There is no want of _power_ in God to cast wicked men into hell at any moment. Men's hands can't be strong when God rises up: the strongest have no power to resist him, nor can any deliver out of his hands. He is not only able to cast wicked men into hell, but he can most easily do it. Sometimes an earthly prince meets with a great deal of difficulty to subdue a rebel that has found means to fortify himself, and has made himself strong by the number of his followers. But it is not so with God. There is no fortress that is any defence against the power of God. Though hand join in hand, and vast multitudes of God's enemies combine and associate themselves, they are easily broken in pieces: they are as great heaps of light chaff before the whirlwind; or large quantities of dry stubble before devouring flames. We find it easy to tread on and crush a worm that we see crawling on the earth; so 'tis easy for us to cut or singe a slender thread that any thing hangs by; thus easy is it for God, when he pleases, to cast his enemies down to hell. What are we, that we should think to stand before him, at whose rebuke the earth trembles, and before whom the rocks are thrown down! 2. They _deserve_ to be cast into hell; so that divine justice never stands in the way, it makes no objection against God's using his power at any moment to destroy them. Yea, on the contrary, justice calls aloud for an infinite punishment of their sins. Divine justice says of the tree that brings forth such grapes of Sodom, "Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground?" Luke xiii. 7. The sword of divine justice is every moment brandished over their heads, and 'tis nothing but the hand of arbitrary mercy, and God's mere will, that holds it back. 3. They are _already_ under a sentence of condemnation to hell. They don't only justly deserve to be cast down thither, but the sentence of the law of God, that eternal and immutable rule of righteousness that God has fixed between him and mankind, is gone out against them, and stands against them; so that they are bound over already to hell: John iii. 18, "He that believeth not is condemned already." So that every unconverted man properly belongs to hell; that is his place; from thence he is: John viii. 23, "Ye are from beneath:" and thither he is bound; 'tis the place that justice, and God's word, and the sentence of his unchangeable law, assigns to him. They are now the objects of that very _same_ anger and wrath of God, that is expressed in the torments of hell: and the reason why they don't go down to hell at each moment is not because God, in whose power they are, is not then very angry with them; as angry as he is with many of those miserable creatures that he is now tormenting in hell, and do there feel and bear the fierceness of his wrath. Yea, God is a great deal more angry with great numbers that are now on earth, yea, doubtless, with many that are now in this congregation, that, it may be, are at ease and quiet, than he is with many of those that are now in the flames of hell. So that it is not because God is unmindful of their wickedness, and don't resent it, that he don't let loose his hand and cut them off. God is not altogether such a one as themselves, though they may imagine him to be so. The wrath of God burns against them; their damnation don't slumber; the pit is prepared; the fire is made ready; the furnace is now hot, ready to receive them; the flames do now rage and glow. The glittering sword is whet, and held over them, and the pit hath opened her mouth under them. 5. The _devil_ stands ready to fall upon them, and seize them as his own, at what moment God shall permit him. They belong to him; he has their souls in his possession, and under his dominion. The Scripture represents them as his _goods_, Luke xi. 21. The devils watch them; they are ever by them, at their right hand; they stand waiting for them, like greedy hungry lions that see their prey, and expect to have it, but are for the present kept back; if God should withdraw his hand by which they are restrained, they would in one moment fly upon their poor souls. The old serpent is gaping for them; hell opens its mouth wide to receive them; and if God should permit it, they would be hastily swallowed up and lost. 6. There are in the souls of wicked men those hellish _principles_ reigning, that would presently kindle and flame out into hell-fire, if it were not for God's restraints. There is laid in the very nature of carnal men a foundation for the torments of hell: there are those corrupt principles, in reigning power in them, and in full possession of them, that are seeds of hell-fire. These principles are active and powerful, exceeding violent in their nature, and if it were not for the restraining hand of God upon them, they would soon break out, they would flame out after the same manner as the same corruptions, the same enmity does in the heart of damned souls, and would beget the same torments in 'em as they do in them. The souls of the wicked are in Scripture compared to the troubled sea, Isaiah lvii. 20. For the present God restrains their wickedness by his mighty power, as he does the raging waves of the troubled sea, saying, "Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further;" but if God should withdraw that restraining power, it would soon carry all afore it. Sin is the ruin and misery of the soul; it is destructive in its nature; and if God should leave it without restraint, there would need nothing else to make the soul perfectly miserable. The corruption of the heart of man is a thing that is immoderate and boundless in its fury; and while wicked men live here, it is like fire pent up by God's restraints, whenas if it were let loose, it would set on fire the course of nature; and as the heart is now a sink of sin, so, if sin was not restrained, it would immediately turn the soul into a fiery oven, or a furnace of fire and brimstone. 7. It is no security to wicked men for one moment, that there are no _visible means of death_ at hand. 'Tis no security to a natural man, that he is now in health, and that he don't see which way he should now immediately go out of the world by any accident, and that there is no visible danger in any respect in his circumstances. The manifold and continual experience of the world in all ages shows that this is no evidence that a man is not on the very brink of eternity, and that the next step won't be into another world. The unseen, unthought of ways and means of persons' going suddenly out of the world are innumerable and inconceivable. Unconverted men walk over the pit of hell on a rotten covering, and there are innumerable places in this covering so weak that they won't bear their weight, and these places are not seen. The arrows of death fly unseen at noonday; the sharpest sight can't discern them. God has so many different, unsearchable ways of taking wicked men out of the world and sending 'em to hell, that there is nothing to make it appear that God had need to be at the expense of a miracle, or go out of the ordinary course of his providence, to destroy any wicked man, at any moment. All the means that there are of sinners' going out of the world are so in God's hands, and so absolutely subject to his power and determination, that it don't depend at all less on the mere will of God, whether sinners shall at any moment go to hell, than if means were never made use of, or at all concerned in the case. 8. Natural men's _prudence_ and _care_ to preserve their own _lives_, or the care of others to preserve them, don't secure 'em a moment. This, divine providence and universal experience does also bear testimony to. There is this clear evidence that men's own wisdom is no security to them from death; that if it were otherwise we should see some difference between the wise and politic men of the world and others, with regard to their liableness to early and unexpected death; but how is it in fact? Eccles. ii. 16, "How dieth the wise man? As the fool." 9. All wicked men's _pains_ and _contrivance_ they use to escape _hell_, while they continue to reject Christ, and so remain wicked men, don't secure 'em from hell one moment. Almost every natural man that hears of hell flatters himself that he shall escape it; he depends upon himself for his own security, he flatters himself in what he has done, in what he is now doing, or what he intends to do; every one lays out matters in his own mind how he shall avoid damnation, and flatters himself that he contrives well for himself, and that his schemes won't fail. They hear indeed that there are but few saved, and that the bigger part of men that have died heretofore are gone to hell; but each one imagines that he lays out matters better for his own escape than others have done: he don't intend to come to that place of torment; he says within himself, that he intends to take care that shall be effectual, and to order matters so for himself as not to fail. But the foolish children of men do miserably delude themselves in their own schemes, and in their confidence in their own strength and wisdom; they trust to nothing but a shadow. The bigger part of those that heretofore have lived under the same means of grace, and are now dead, are undoubtedly gone to hell; and it was not because they were not as wise as those that are now alive; it was not because they did not lay out matters as well for themselves to secure their own escape. If it were so that we could come to speak with them, and could inquire of them, one by one, whether they expected, when alive, and when they used to hear about hell, ever to be subjects of that misery, we, doubtless, should hear one and another reply, "No, I never intended to come here: I had laid out matters otherwise in my mind; I thought I should contrive well for myself: I thought my scheme good: I intended to take effectual care; but it came upon me unexpected; I did not look for it at that time, and in that manner; it came as a thief: death outwitted me: God's wrath was too quick for me. O my cursed foolishness! I was flattering myself, and pleasing myself with vain dreams of what I would do hereafter; and when I was saying peace and safety, then sudden destruction came upon me." 10. God has laid himself under _no obligation_, by any promise, to keep any natural man out of hell one moment. God certainly has made no promises either of eternal life, or of any deliverance or preservation from eternal death, but what are contained in the covenant of grace, the promises that are given in Christ, in whom all the promises are yea and amen. But surely they have no interest in the promises of the covenant of grace that are not the children of the covenant, and that do not believe in any of the promises of the covenant, and have no interest in the Mediator of the covenant. So that, whatever some have imagined and pretended about promises made to natural men's earnest seeking and knocking, 'tis plain and manifest, that whatever pains a natural man takes in religion, whatever prayers he makes, till he believes in Christ, God is under no manner of obligation to keep him a moment from eternal destruction. So that thus it is, that natural men are held in the hand of God over the pit of hell; they have deserved the fiery pit, and are already sentenced to it; and God is dreadfully provoked, his anger is as great towards them as to those that are actually suffering the executions of the fierceness of his wrath in hell, and they have done nothing in the least to appease or abate that anger, neither is God in the least bound by any promise to hold 'em up one moment; the devil is waiting for them, hell is gaping for them, the flames gather and flash about them, and would fain lay hold on them and swallow them up; the fire pent up in their own hearts is struggling to break out; and they have no interest in any Mediator, there are no means within reach that can be any security to them. In short they have no refuge, nothing to take hold of; all that preserves them every moment is the mere arbitrary will, and uncovenanted, unobliged forbearance of an incensed God. APPLICATION The use may be of _awakening_ to unconverted persons in this congregation. This that you have heard is the case of every one of you that are out of Christ. That world of misery, that lake of burning brimstone, is extended abroad under you. _There_ is the dreadful pit of the glowing flames of the wrath of God; there is hell's wide gaping mouth open; and you have nothing to stand upon, nor any thing to take hold of. There is nothing between you and hell but the air; 'tis only the power and mere pleasure of God that holds you up. You probably are not sensible of this; you find you are kept out of hell, but don't see the hand of God in it, but look at other things, as the good state of your bodily constitution, your care of your own life, and the means you use for your own preservation. But indeed these things are nothing; if God should withdraw his hand, they would avail no more to keep you from falling than the thin air to hold up a person that is suspended in it. Your wickedness makes you as it were heavy as lead, and to tend downwards with great weight and pressure towards hell; and if God should let you go, you would immediately sink and swiftly descend and plunge into the bottomless gulf, and your healthy constitution, and your own care and prudence, and best contrivance, and all your righteousness, would have no more influence to uphold you and keep you out of hell than a spider's web would have to stop a falling rock. Were it not that so is the sovereign pleasure of God, the earth would not bear you one moment; for you are a burden to it; the creation groans with you; the creature is made subject to the bondage of your corruption, not willingly; the sun don't willingly shine upon you to give you light to serve sin and Satan; the earth don't willingly yield her increase to satisfy your lusts; nor is it willingly a stage for your wickedness to be acted upon; the air don't willingly serve you for breath to maintain the flame of life in your vitals, while you spend your life in the service of God's enemies. God's creatures are good, and were made for men to serve God with, and don't willingly subserve to any other purpose, and groan when they are abused to purposes so directly contrary to their nature and end. And the world would spew you out, were it not for the sovereign hand of him who hath subjected it in hope. There are the black clouds of God's wrath now hanging directly over your heads, full of the dreadful storm, and big with thunder; and were it not for the restraining hand of God, it would immediately burst forth upon you. The sovereign pleasure of God, for the present, stays his rough wind; otherwise it would come with fury, and your destruction would come like a whirlwind, and you would be like the chaff of the summer threshing floor. The wrath of God is like great waters that are dammed for the present; they increase more and more, and rise higher and higher, till an outlet is given; and the longer the stream is stopped, the more rapid and mighty is its course, when once it is let loose. 'Tis true, that judgment against your evil work has not been executed hitherto; the floods of God's vengeance have been withheld; but your guilt in the mean time is constantly increasing, and you are every day treasuring up more wrath; the waters are continually rising, and waxing more and more mighty; and there is nothing but the mere pleasure of God that holds the waters back, that are unwilling to be stopped, and press hard to go forward. If God should only withdraw his hand from the floodgate, it would immediately fly open, and the fiery floods of the fierceness and wrath of God would rush forth with inconceivable fury, and would come upon you with omnipotent power; and if your strength were ten thousand times greater than it is, yea, ten thousand times greater than the strength of the stoutest, sturdiest devil in hell, it would be nothing to withstand or endure it. The bow of God's wrath is bent, and the arrow made ready on the string, and justice bends the arrow at your heart, and strains the bow, and it is nothing but the mere pleasure of God, and that of an angry God, without any promise or obligation at all, that keeps the arrow one moment from being made drunk with your blood. Thus are all you that never passed under a great change of heart by the mighty power of the Spirit of God upon your souls; all that were never born again, and made new creatures, and raised from being dead in sin to a state of new and before altogether unexperienced light and life, (however you may have reformed your life in many things, and may have had religious affections, and may keep up a form of religion in your families and closets, and in the house of God, and may be strict in it), you are thus in the hands of an angry God; 'tis nothing but his mere pleasure that keeps you from being this moment swallowed up in everlasting destruction. However unconvinced you may now be of the truth of what you hear, by and by you will be fully convinced of it. Those that are gone from being in the like circumstances with you see that it was so with them; for destruction came suddenly upon most of them; when they expected nothing of it, and while they were saying, Peace and safety: now they see, that those things that they depended on for peace and safety were nothing but thin air and empty shadows. The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked; his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times so abominable in his eyes, as the most hateful and venomous serpent is in ours. You have offended him infinitely more than ever a stubborn rebel did his prince: and yet it is nothing but his hand that holds you from falling into the fire every moment. 'Tis ascribed to nothing else, that you did not go to hell the last night; that you was suffered to awake again in this world after you closed your eyes to sleep; and there is no other reason to be given why you have not dropped into hell since you arose in the morning, but that God's hand has held you up. There is no other reason to be given why you han't gone to hell since you have sat here in the house of God, provoking his pure eyes by your sinful wicked manner of attending his solemn worship. Yea, there is nothing else that is to be given as a reason why you don't this very moment drop down into hell.° O sinner! consider the fearful danger you are in. 'Tis a great furnace of wrath, a wide and bottomless pit, full of the fire of wrath, that you are held over in the hand of that God whose wrath is provoked and incensed as much against you as against many of the damned in hell. You hang by a slender thread, with the flames of divine wrath flashing about it, and ready every moment to singe it and burn it asunder; and you have no interest in any Mediator, and nothing to lay hold of to save yourself, nothing to keep off the flames of wrath, nothing of your own, nothing that you ever have done, nothing that you can do, to induce God to spare you one moment. And consider here more particularly several things concerning that wrath that you are in such danger of. 1. _Whose_ wrath it is. It is the wrath of the infinite God. If it were only the wrath of man, though it were of the most potent prince, it would be comparatively little to be regarded. The wrath of kings is very much dreaded, especially of absolute monarchs, that have the possessions and lives of their subjects wholly in their power, to be disposed of at their mere will. Prov. xx. 2, "The fear of a king is as the roaring of a lion: whoso provoketh him to anger sinneth against his own soul." The subject that very much enrages an arbitrary prince is liable to suffer the most extreme torments that human art can invent, or human power can inflict. But the greatest earthly potentates, in their greatest majesty and strength, and when clothed in their greatest terrors, are but feeble, despicable worms of the dust, in comparison of the great and almighty Creator and King of heaven and earth: it is but little that they can do when most enraged, and when they have exerted the utmost of their fury. All the kings of the earth before God are as grasshoppers; they are nothing, and less than nothing: both their love and their hatred is to be despised. The wrath of the great King of kings is as much more terrible than theirs, as his majesty is greater. Luke xii. 4, 5, "And I say unto you my friends, Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do. But I will forewarn you whom you shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell; yea, I say unto you, Fear him." 2. 'Tis the _fierceness_ of his wrath that you are exposed to. We often read of the _fury_ of God; as in Isaiah lix. 18: "According to their deeds, accordingly he will repay fury to his adversaries." So Isaiah lxvi. 15, "For, behold, the Lord will come with fire, and with his chariots like a whirlwind, to render his anger with fury, and his rebuke with flames of fire." And so in many other places. So we read of God's _fierceness_, Rev. xix. 15. There we read of "the wine-press of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God." The words are exceeding terrible: if it had only been said, "the wrath of God," the words would have implied that which is infinitely dreadful: but 'tis not only said so, but "the fierceness and wrath of God." The fury of God! The fierceness of Jehovah! Oh, how dreadful must that be! Who can utter or conceive what such expressions carry in them! But it is not only said so, but "the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God." As though there would be a very great manifestation of his almighty power in what the fierceness of his wrath should inflict, as though omnipotence should be as it were enraged, and exerted, as men are wont to exert their strength in the fierceness of their wrath. Oh! then, what will be the consequence! What will become of the poor worm that shall suffer it! Whose hands can be strong! And whose heart endure! To what a dreadful, inexpressible, inconceivable depth of misery must the poor creature be sunk who shall be the subject of this! Consider this, you that are here present, that yet remain in an unregenerate state. That God will execute the fierceness of his anger implies that he will inflict wrath without any pity. When God beholds the ineffable extremity of your case, and sees your torment so vastly disproportioned to your strength, and sees how your poor soul is crushed, and sinks down, as it were, into an infinite gloom; he will have no compassion upon you, he will not forbear the executions of his wrath, or in the least lighten his hand; there shall be no moderation or mercy, nor will God then at all stay his rough wind; he will have no regard to your welfare, nor be at all careful lest you should suffer too much in any other sense, than only that you should not suffer beyond what strict justice requires: nothing shall be withheld because it is so hard for you to bear. Ezek. viii. 18, "Therefore will I also deal in fury: mine eye shall not spare, neither will I have pity: and though they cry in mine ears with a loud voice, yet will I not hear them." Now God stands ready to pity you; this is a day of mercy; you may cry now with some encouragement of obtaining mercy: but when once the day of mercy is past, your most lamentable and dolorous cries and shrieks will be in vain; you will be wholly lost and thrown away of God, as to any regard to your welfare; God will have no other use to put you to, but only to suffer misery; you shall be continued in being to no other end; for you will be a vessel of wrath fitted to destruction; and there will be no other use of this vessel, but only to be filled full of wrath: God will be so far from pitying you when you cry to him, that 'tis said he will only "laugh and mock," Prov. i. 25, 26, &c. How awful are those words, Isaiah lxiii. 3, which are the words of the great God: "I will tread them in mine anger, and trample them in my fury; and their blood shall be sprinkled upon my garments, and I will stain all my raiment." 'Tis perhaps impossible to conceive of words that carry in them greater manifestations of these three things, viz., contempt and hatred and fierceness of indignation. If you cry to God to pity you, he will be so far from pitying you in your doleful case, or showing you the least regard or favor, that instead of that he'll only tread you under foot: and though he will know that you can't bear the weight of omnipotence treading upon you, yet he won't regard that, but he will crush you under his feet without mercy; he'll crush out your blood, and make it fly, and it shall be sprinkled on his garments, so as to stain all his raiment. He will not only hate you, but he will have you in the utmost contempt; no place shall be thought fit for you but under his feet, to be trodden down as the mire of the streets. 3. The misery you are exposed to is that which God will inflict to that end, that he might _show_ what that _wrath_ of _Jehovah_ is. God hath had it on his heart to show to angels and men, both how excellent his love is, and also how terrible his wrath is. Sometimes earthly kings have a mind to show how terrible their wrath is, by the extreme punishments they would execute on those that provoke 'em. Nebuchadnezzar, that mighty and haughty monarch of the Chaldean empire, was willing to show his wrath when enraged with Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego; and accordingly gave order that the burning fiery furnace should be heated seven times hotter than it was before; doubtless, it was raised to the utmost degree of fierceness that human art could raise it; but the great God is also willing to show his wrath, and magnify his awful Majesty and mighty power in the extreme sufferings of his enemies. Rom. ix. 22, "What if God, willing to show his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much long-suffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction?" And seeing this is his design, and what he has determined, to show how terrible the unmixed, unrestrained wrath, the fury and fierceness of Jehovah is, he will do it to effect. There will be something accomplished and brought to pass that will be dreadful with a witness. When the great and angry God hath risen up and executed his awful vengeance on the poor sinner, and the wretch is actually suffering the infinite weight and power of his indignation, then will God call upon the whole universe to behold that awful majesty and mighty power that is to be seen in it. Isa. xxxiii. 12, 13, 14, "And the people shall be as the burnings of lime, as thorns cut up shall they be burnt in the fire. Hear, ye that are far off, what I have done; and ye that are near, acknowledge my might. The sinners in Zion are afraid; fearfulness hath surprised the hypocrites," &c. Thus it will be with you that are in an unconverted state, if you continue in it; the infinite might, and majesty, and terribleness, of the Omnipotent God shall be magnified upon you in the ineffable strength of your torments. You shall be tormented in the presence of the holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb; and when you shall be in this state of suffering, the glorious inhabitants of heaven shall go forth and look on the awful spectacle, that they may see what the wrath and fierceness of the Almighty is; and when they have seen it, they will fall down and adore that great power and majesty. Isa. lxvi. 23, 24, "And it shall come to pass, that from one new moon to another, and from one sabbath to another, shall all flesh come to worship before me, saith the Lord. And they shall go forth, and look upon the carcasses of the men that have transgressed against me: for their worm shall not die, neither shall their fire be quenched; and they shall be an abhorring unto all flesh." 4. It is _everlasting_ wrath. It would be dreadful to suffer this fierceness and wrath of Almighty God one moment; but you must suffer it to all eternity: there will be no end to this exquisite, horrible misery. When you look forward, you shall see a long forever, a boundless duration before you, which will swallow up your thoughts, and amaze your soul; and you will absolutely despair of ever having any deliverance, any end, any mitigation, any rest at all; you will know certainly that you must wear out long ages, millions of millions of ages, in wrestling and conflicting with this almighty, merciless vengeance; and then when you have so done, when so many ages have actually been spent by you in this manner, you will know that all is but a point to what remains. So that your punishment will indeed be infinite. Oh, who can express what the state of a soul in such circumstances is! All that we can possibly say about it gives but a very feeble, faint representation of it; it is inexpressible and inconceivable: for "who knows the power of God's anger?" How dreadful is the state of those that are daily and hourly in danger of this great wrath and infinite misery! But this is the dismal case of every soul in this congregation that has not been born again, however moral and strict, sober and religious, they may otherwise be. Oh, that you would consider it, whether you be young or old! There is reason to think that there are many in this congregation now hearing this discourse, that will actually be the subjects of this very misery to all eternity. We know not who they are, or in what seats they sit, or what thoughts they now have. It may be they are now at ease, and hear all these things without much disturbance, and are now flattering themselves that they are not the persons, promising themselves that they shall escape. If we knew that there was one person, and but one, in the whole congregation, that was to be the subject of this misery, what an awful thing it would be to think of! If we knew who it was, what an awful sight would it be to see such a person! How might all the rest of the congregation lift up a lamentable and bitter cry over him! But alas! instead of one, how many is it likely will remember this discourse in hell! And it would be a wonder, if some that are now present should not be in hell in a very short time, before this year is out. And it would be no wonder if some persons that now sit here in some seats of this meeting-house in health, and quiet and secure, should be there before to-morrow morning. Those of you that finally continue in a natural condition, that shall keep out of hell longest, will be there in a little time! Your damnation don't slumber; it will come swiftly and, in all probability, very suddenly upon many of you. You have reason to wonder that you are not already in hell. 'Tis doubtless the case of some that heretofore you have seen and known, that never deserved hell more than you and that heretofore appeared as likely to have been now alive as you. Their case is past all hope; they are crying in extreme misery and perfect despair. But here you are in the land of the living and in the house of God, and have an opportunity to obtain salvation. What would not those poor, damned, hopeless souls give for one day's such opportunity as you now enjoy! And now you have an extraordinary opportunity, a day wherein Christ has flung the door of mercy wide open, and stands in the door calling and crying with a loud voice to poor sinners; a day wherein many are flocking to him and pressing into the Kingdom of God. Many are daily coming from the east, west, north and south; many that were very likely in the same miserable condition that you are in are in now a happy state, with their hearts filled with love to him that has loved them and washed them from their sins in his own blood, and rejoicing in hope of the glory of God. How awful is it to be left behind at such a day! To see so many others feasting, while you are pining and perishing! To see so many rejoicing and singing for joy of heart, while you have cause to mourn for sorrow of heart and howl for vexation of spirit! How can you rest for one moment in such a condition? Are not your souls as precious as the souls of the people at Suffield,[15] where they are flocking from day to day to Christ? Are there not many here that have lived long in the world that are not to this day born again, and so are aliens from the commonwealth of Israel and have done nothing ever since they have lived but treasure up wrath against the day of wrath? Oh, sirs, your case in an especial manner is extremely dangerous; your guilt and hardness of heart is extremely great. Don't you see how generally persons of your years are passed over and left in the present remarkable and wonderful dispensation of God's mercy? You had need to consider yourselves and wake thoroughly out of sleep; you cannot bear the fierceness and the wrath of the infinite God. And you that are young men and young women, will you neglect this precious season that you now enjoy, when so many others of your age are renouncing all youthful vanities and flocking to Christ? You especially have now an extraordinary opportunity; but if you neglect it, it will soon be with you as it is with those persons that spent away all the precious days of youth in sin and are now come to such a dreadful pass in blindness and hardness. And you children that are unconverted, don't you know that you are going down to hell to bear the dreadful wrath of that God that is now angry with you every day and every night? Will you be content to be the children of the devil, when so many other children in the land are converted and are become the holy and happy children of the King of kings? And let every one that is yet out of Christ and hanging over the pit of hell, whether they be old men and women or middle-aged or young people or little children, now hearken to the loud calls of God's word and providence. This acceptable year of the Lord that is a day of such great favor to some will doubtless be a day of as remarkable vengeance to others. Men's hearts harden and their guilt increases apace at such a day as this, if they neglect their souls. And never was there so great danger of such persons being given up to hardness of heart and blindness of mind. God seems now to be hastily gathering in his elect in all parts of the land; and probably the bigger part of adult persons that ever shall be saved will be brought in now in a little time, and that it will be as it was on that great outpouring of the Spirit upon the Jews in the Apostles' days, the election will obtain and the rest will be blinded. If this should be the case with you, you will eternally curse this day, and will curse the day that ever you was born to see such a season of the pouring out of God's Spirit, and will wish that you had died and gone to hell before you had seen it. Now undoubtedly it is as it was in the days of John the Baptist, the axe is in an extraordinary manner laid at the root of the trees, that every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit may be hewn down and cast into the fire. Therefore let every one that is out of Christ now awake and fly from the wrath to come. The wrath of Almighty God is now undoubtedly hanging over great part of this congregation. Let every one fly out of Sodom. "_Haste and escape for your lives, look not behind you, escape to the mountain, lest ye be consumed._" VI GOD'S AWFUL JUDGMENT IN THE BREAKING AND WITHERING OF THE STRONG RODS OF A COMMUNITY° EZEK. xix. 12.--Her strong rods were broken and withered. In order to a right understanding and improving these words, these four things must be observed and understood concerning them. 1. _Who she is_ that is here represented as having had strong rods, viz., the Jewish community, [who] here, as often elsewhere, is called the people's mother. She is here compared to a vine planted in a very fruitful soil, verse 10. The Jewish church and state is often elsewhere compared to a vine; as Psalm lxxx. 8, &c., Isai. v. 2, Jer. ii. 21, Ezek. xv., and chapter xvii. 6. 2. What is meant by _her strong rods_, viz., her wise, able, and well qualified magistrates or rulers. That the rulers or magistrates are intended is manifest by verse 11: "And she had strong rods for the sceptres of them that bare rule." And by rods that were strong, must be meant such rulers as were well qualified for magistracy, such as had great abilities and other qualifications fitting them for the business of rule. They were wont to choose a rod or staff of the strongest and hardest sort of wood that could be found, for the mace or sceptre of a prince; such a one only being counted fit for such a use: and this generally was overlaid with gold. It is very remarkable that such a strong rod should grow out of a weak vine; but so it had been in Israel, through God's extraordinary blessing, in times past. Though the nation is spoken of here, and frequently elsewhere, as weak and helpless in itself and entirely dependent as a vine, that is the weakest of all trees, that can't support itself by its own strength, and never stands but as it leans on or hangs by something else that is stronger than itself; yet God had caused many of her sons to be strong rods, fit for sceptres; he had raised up in Israel many able and excellent princes and magistrates in days past, that had done worthily in their day. [Illustration: THE MEETING-HOUSE AT NORTHAMPTON IN WHICH EDWARDS PREACHED. ERECTED 1737.] 3. It should be understood and observed what is meant by these strong rods being _broken and withered_, viz., these able and excellent rulers being removed by death. Man's dying is often compared in Scripture to the withering of the growth of the earth. 4. It should be observed _after what manner_ the breaking and withering of these strong rods is here spoken of, viz., as a great and awful calamity that God had brought upon that people. 'Tis spoken of as one of the chief effects of God's fury and dreadful displeasure against them. "But she was plucked up in fury, she was cast down to the ground, and the east wind dried up her fruit; her strong rods were broken and withered, the fire hath consumed them." The great benefits she enjoyed while her strong rods remained are represented in the preceding verse: "And she had strong rods for the sceptres of them that bare rule, and her stature was exalted among the thick branches, and she appeared in her height with the multitude of her branches." And the terrible calamities that attended the breaking and withering of her strong rods, are represented in the two verses next following the text: "And now she is planted in the wilderness, in a dry and thirsty ground. And fire is gone out of a rod of her branches, which hath devoured her fruit." And in the conclusion in the next words is very emphatically declared the worthiness of such a dispensation to be greatly lamented: "So that she hath no strong rod to be a sceptre to rule. This is a lamentation, and shall be for a lamentation." That which I therefore observe from the words of the text to be the subject of discourse at this time, is this: _When God by death removes from a people those in place of public authority and rule that have been as strong rods, 'tis an awful judgment of God on that people, and worthy of great lamentation._ In discoursing on this proposition, I would, I. Show what kind of rulers may fitly be called strong rods. II. Show why the removal of such rulers from a people, by death, is to be looked upon as an awful judgment of God on that people, and is greatly to be lamented. I. I would observe what qualifications of those who are in public authority and rule may properly give them the denomination of _strong rods_. 1. One qualification of rulers whence they may properly be denominated strong rods is _great ability for the management of public affairs_. When they that stand in place of public authority are men of great natural abilities, when they are men of uncommon strength of reason and largeness of understanding; especially when they have remarkably a genius for government, a peculiar turn of mind fitting them to gain an extraordinary understanding in things of that nature, giving ability, in an especial manner, for insight into the mysteries of government, and discerning those things wherein the public welfare or calamity consists and the proper means to avoid the one and promote the other; an extraordinary talent at distinguishing what is right and just from that which is wrong and unequal, and to see through the false colors with which injustice is often disguised, and unravel the false, subtle arguments and cunning sophistry that is often made use of to defend iniquity; and when they have not only great natural abilities in these respects, but when their abilities and talents have been improved by study, learning, observation and experience; and when by these means they have obtained great actual knowledge; when they have acquired great skill in public affairs and things requisite to be known in order to their wise, prudent, and effectual management; when they have obtained a great understanding of men and things, a great knowledge of human nature and of the way of accommodating themselves to it, so as most effectually to influence it to wise purposes; when they have obtained a very extensive knowledge of men with whom they are concerned in the management of public affairs, either those that have a joint concern in government or those that are to be governed; and when they have also obtained a very full and particular understanding of the state and circumstances of the country or people that they have the care of, and know well their laws and constitution and what their circumstances require; and likewise have a great knowledge of the people of neighbor nations, states, or provinces with whom they have occasion to be concerned in the management of public affairs committed to them; these things all contribute to the rendering those that are in authority fit to be denominated strong rods. 2. When they have not only great understanding but _largeness of heart and a greatness and nobleness of disposition_, this is another qualification that belongs to the character of a strong rod. Those that are by divine Providence set in places of public authority and rule are called _gods_, and _sons of the Most High_, Psalm lxxxii. 6. And therefore 'tis peculiarly unbecoming them to be of a mean spirit, a disposition that will admit of their doing those things that are sordid and vile; as when they are persons of a narrow, private spirit, that may be found in little tricks and intrigues to promote their private interest, will shamefully defile their hands to gain a few pounds, are not ashamed to nip and bite others, grind the faces of the poor and screw upon their neighbors, and will take advantage of their authority or commission to line their own pockets with what is fraudulently taken or withheld from others. When a man in authority is of such a mean spirit, it weakens his authority and makes him justly contemptible in the eyes of men and is utterly inconsistent with his being a _strong rod_. But on the contrary, it greatly establishes his authority, and causes others to stand in awe of him, when they see him to be a man of greatness of mind, one that abhors those things that are mean and sordid, and not capable of a compliance with them; one that is of a public spirit, and not of a private, narrow disposition; a man of honor, and not a man of mean artifice and clandestine management for filthy lucre, and one that abhors trifling and impertinence, or to waste away his time, that should be spent in the service of God, his king, or his country, in vain amusements and diversions and in the pursuit of the gratifications of sensual appetites; as God charges the rulers in Israel, that pretended to be their great and mighty men, with being mighty to drink wine and men of strength to mingle strong drink. There don't seem to be any reference to their being men of strong heads and able to bear a great deal of strong drink, as some have supposed. There is a severe sarcasm in the words; for the prophet is speaking of the great men, princes and judges in Israel (as appears by the verse next following), which should be mighty men, strong rods, men of eminent qualifications, excelling in nobleness of spirit, of glorious strength and fortitude of mind; but instead of that, they were mighty or eminent for nothing but gluttony and drunkenness. 3. When those that are in authority are endowed with much of _a spirit of government_, this is another thing that entitles them to the denomination of strong rods. When they not only are men of great understanding and wisdom in affairs that appertain to government, but have also a peculiar talent at using their knowledge and exerting themselves in this great and important business, according to their great understanding in it; when they are men of eminent fortitude and are not afraid of the faces of men, are not afraid to do the part that properly belongs to them as rulers, though they meet with great opposition, and the spirits of men are greatly irritated by it; when they have a spirit of resolution and activity, so as to keep the wheels of government in proper motion and to cause judgment and justice to run down as a mighty stream; when they have not only a great knowledge of government and the things that belong to it in the theory, but it is, as it were, natural to them to apply the various powers and faculties with which God has endowed them, and the knowledge they have obtained by study and observation, to that business, so as to perform it most advantageously and effectually. 4. _Stability and firmness of integrity, fidelity and piety in the exercise of authority_ is another thing that greatly contributes to, and is very essential in, the character of a strong rod. When he that is in authority is not only a man of strong reason and great discerning to know what is just, but is a man of strict integrity and righteousness, is firm and immovable in the execution of justice and judgment; and when he is not only a man of great ability to bear down vice and immorality, but has a disposition agreeable to such ability; is one that has a strong aversion to wickedness and is disposed to use the power God has put into his hands to suppress it; and is one that not only opposes vice by his authority, but by his example; when he is one of inflexible fidelity, will be faithful to God whose minister he is to his people for good, is immovable in his regard to his supreme authority, his commands and his glory, and will be faithful to his king and country; will not be induced by the many temptations that attend the business of men in public authority basely to betray his trust; will not consent to do what he thinks not to be for the public good for his own gain or advancement, or any private interest; is one that is well principled, and is firm in acting agreeably to his principles, and will not be prevailed with to do otherwise through fear or favor, to follow a multitude, or to maintain his interest in any on whom he depends for the honor or profit of his place, whether it be prince or people; and is also one of that strength of mind, whereby he rules his own spirit,--these things do very eminently contribute to a ruler's title to the denomination of a _strong rod_. 5. And lastly, it also contributes to the strength of a man in authority by which he may be denominated a _strong rod_, when he is in _such circumstances as give him advantage_ for the exercise of his strength for the public good; as his being a person of honorable descent, of a distinguished education, his being a man of estate, one that is advanced in years, one that has long been in authority, so that it is become, as it were, natural for the people to pay him deference, to reverence him, to be influenced and governed by him and submit to his authority; his being extensively known and much honored and regarded abroad; his being one of a good presence, majesty of countenance, decency of behavior, becoming one in authority; of forcible speech, &c. These things add to his strength and increase his ability and advantage to serve his generation in the place of a ruler, and therefore in some respect serve to render him one that is the more fitly and eminently called a _strong rod_. I now proceed, II. To show that when such strong rods are broken and withered by death, 'tis an awful judgment of God on the people that are deprived of them and worthy of great lamentation. And that on two accounts: 1. By reason of the many _positive benefits_ and blessings to a people that such rulers are the instruments of. Almost all the prosperity of a public society and civil community does, under God, depend on their rulers. They are like the main springs or wheels in a machine that keep every part in their due motion, and are in the body politic, as the vitals in the body natural, and as the pillars and foundation in a building. Civil rulers are called "the foundations of the earth," Psalm lxxxii. 5, and xi. 3. The prosperity of a people depends more on their rulers than is commonly imagined. As they have the public society under their care and power, so they have advantage to promote the public interest every way; and if they are such rulers as have been spoken of, they are some of the greatest blessings to the public. Their influence has a tendency to promote their wealth and cause their temporal possessions and blessings to abound: and to promote virtue amongst them, and so to unite them one to another in peace and mutual benevolence, and make them happy in society, each one the instrument of his neighbor's quietness, comfort and prosperity; and by these means to advance their reputation and honor in the world; and which is much more, to promote their spiritual and eternal happiness. Therefore, the wise man says, Eccles. x. 17, "Blessed art thou, O land, when thy king is the son of nobles." We have a remarkable instance and evidence of the happy and great influence of such a strong rod as has been described to promote the universal prosperity of a people in the history of the reign of Solomon, though many of the people were uneasy under his government, and thought him too rigorous in his administration (see 1 Kings xii. 4). "Judah and Israel dwelt safely, every man under his vine and under his fig-tree, from Dan even to Beersheba, all the days of Solomon," 1 Kings iv. 25. "And he made silver to be among them as stones for abundance," chap x. 27. "And Judah and Israel were many, eating and drinking and making merry," [chap. iv. 20]. The queen of Sheba admired and was greatly affected with the happiness of the people under the government of such a strong rod: 1 Kings x. 8, 9, says she, "Happy are thy men, happy are these thy servants which stand continually before thee, and that hear thy wisdom. Blessed be the Lord thy God which delighted in thee, to set thee on the throne of Israel; because the Lord loved Israel forever, therefore made he thee king, to do judgment and justice." The flourishing state of the kingdom of Judah, while they had strong rods for the sceptres of them that bare rule, is taken notice of in our context: "Her stature was exalted among the thick branches, and she appeared in her height with the multitude of her branches." Such rulers are eminently the ministers of God to his people for good: they are great gifts of the Most High to a people and blessed tokens of his favor and vehicles of his goodness to them, and therein images of his own Son, the grand medium of all God's goodness to fallen mankind: and therefore, all of them are called _sons of the Most High_. All civil rulers, if they are, as they ought to be, such strong rods as have been described, will be like the Son of the Most High, vehicles of good to mankind, and like him, will be as the light of the morning when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds, as the tender grass springeth out of the earth, by clear shining after rain. And therefore, when a people are bereaved of them, they sustain an unspeakable loss and are the subjects of a judgment of God that is greatly to be lamented. 2. On account of the _great calamities_ such rulers are _a defence from_. Innumerable are the grievous and fatal calamities which public societies are exposed to in this evil world, which they can have no defence from without order and authority. If a people are without government, they are like a city broken down and without walls, encompassed on every side by enemies and become unavoidably subject to all manner of confusion and misery. Government is necessary to _defend communities from miseries from within themselves_; from the prevalence of intestine discord, mutual injustice and violence; the members of the society continually making a prey one of another, without any defence one from another. Rulers are the heads of union in public societies, that hold the parts together; without which nothing else is to be expected than that the members of the society will be continually divided against themselves, every one acting the part of an enemy to his neighbor, every one's hand against every man and every man's hand against him; going on in remediless and endless broils and jarring till the society be utterly dissolved and broken in pieces and life itself, in the neighborhood of our fellow creatures, becomes miserable and intolerable. We may see the need of government in societies by what is visible in families, those lesser societies of which all public societies are constituted. How miserable would these little societies be, if all were left to themselves, without any authority or superiority in one above another or any head of union and influence among them? We may be convinced by what we see of the lamentable consequences of the want of a proper exercise of authority and maintenance of government in families that yet are not absolutely without all authority. No less need is there of government in public societies, but much more, as they are larger. A very few may possibly, without any government, act by concert, so as to concur in what shall be for the welfare of the whole; but this is not to be expected among a multitude, constituted of many thousands, of a great variety of tempers, and different interests. As government is absolutely necessary, so there is a necessity of _strong rods_ in order to it: the business being such as requires persons so qualified: no other being sufficient for, or well capable of the government of, public societies: and therefore, those public societies are miserable that have not such strong rods for sceptres to rule: Eccles. x. 16, "Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a child." As government, and strong rods for the exercise of it, are necessary to preserve public societies from dreadful and fatal calamities arising from among themselves; so no less requisite are they to _defend the community from foreign enemies_. As they are like the pillars of a building, so they are also like the walls and bulwarks of a city: they are under God the main strength of a people in a time of war and the chief instruments of their preservation, safety and rest. This is signified in a very lively manner in the words that are used by the Jewish community in her Lamentations to express the expectations she had from her princes: Lam. iv. 29, "The breath of our nostrils, the anointed of the Lord, was taken in their pits, of whom we said, Under his shadow we shall live among the heathen." In this respect also such strong rods are sons of the Most High and images or resemblances of the Son of God, viz., as they are their saviours from their enemies; as the judges that God raised up of old in Israel are called, Nehem. ix. 27: "Therefore thou deliveredst them into the hand of their enemies, who vexed them: and in the time of their trouble, when they cried unto thee, thou heardest them from heaven; and according to thy manifold mercies thou gavest them saviours, who saved them out of the hand of their enemies." Thus both the prosperity and safety of a people under God, depends on such rulers as are _strong rods_. While they enjoy such blessings, they are wont to be like a vine planted in a fruitful soil, with her stature exalted among the thick branches, appearing in her height with the multitude of her branches; but when they have no strong rod to be a sceptre to rule, they are like a vine planted in a wilderness that is exposed to be plucked up and cast down to the ground, to have her fruit dried up with the east wind, and to have fire coming out of her own branches to devour her fruit. On these accounts, when a people's strong rods are broken and withered, 'tis an awful judgment of God on that people, and worthy of great lamentation: as when King Josiah (who was doubtless one of the strong rods referred to in the text) was dead, the people made great lamentation for him, 2 Chron. xxxv. 24, 25: "And they brought him to Jerusalem, and he died, and was buried in one of the sepulchres of his fathers. And all Judah and Jerusalem mourned for Josiah. And Jeremiah lamented for Josiah: and all the singing men and the singing women spake of Josiah in their lamentations to this day, and made them an ordinance in Israel: and, behold, they are written in the Lamentations." APPLICATION I come now to apply these things to our own case, under the late awful frown of divine Providence upon us in removing by death that honorable person in public rule and authority, an inhabitant of this town and belonging to this congregation and church, who died at Boston the last Lord's day. He was eminently a _strong rod_ in the forementioned respects. As to his natural abilities, strength of reason, greatness and clearness of discerning and depth of penetration, he was one of the first rank: it may be doubted whether he has left his superior in these respects in these parts of the world. He was a man of a truly great genius, and his genius was peculiarly fitted for the understanding and managing of public affairs. And as his natural capacity was great, so was the knowledge that he had acquired, his understanding being greatly improved by close application of mind to those things he was called to be concerned in, and by a very exact observation of them and long experience in them. He had indeed a great insight into the nature of public societies, the mysteries of government and the affairs of peace and war: he had a discerning that very few have of the things wherein the public weal consists, and what those things are that do expose public societies, and of the proper means to avoid the latter and promote the former. He was quick in his discerning, in that in most cases, especially such as belonged to his proper business, he at first sight would see further than most men when they had done their best; but yet he had a wonderful faculty of improving his own thoughts by meditation, and carrying his views a greater and greater length by long and close application of mind. He had an extraordinary ability to distinguish right and wrong in the midst of intricacies and circumstances that tended to perplex and darken the case: he was able to weigh things, as it were, in a balance, and to distinguish those things that were solid and weighty from those that had only a fair show without substance, which he evidently discovered in his accurate, clear and plain way of stating and committing causes to a jury, from the bench, as by others hath been observed. He wonderfully distinguished truth from falsehood, and the most labored cases seemed always to lie clear in his mind, his ideas properly ranged--and he had a talent of communicating them to every one's understanding, beyond almost any one; and if any were misguided, it was not because truth and falsehood, right and wrong, were not well distinguished. He was probably one of the ablest politicians that ever New England bred: he had a very uncommon insight into human nature, and a marvellous ability to penetrate into the particular tempers and dispositions of such as he had to deal with, and to discern the fittest way of treating them, so as most effectually to influence them to any good and wise purpose. And never perhaps was there a person that had a more extensive and thorough knowledge of the state of this land and its public affairs, and of persons that were jointly concerned in them: he knew this people and their circumstances, and what their circumstances required: he discerned the diseases of this body, and what were the proper remedies, as an able and masterly physician. He had a great acquaintance with the neighboring colonies, and also the neighbor nations on this continent, with whom we are concerned in our public affairs: he had a far greater knowledge than any other person in the land of the several nations of Indians in these northern parts of America, their tempers, manners and the proper way of treating them, and was more extensively known by them than any other person in the country: and no other person in authority in this province had such an acquaintance with the people and country of Canada, the land of our enemies, as he. He was exceeding far from a disposition and forwardness to intermeddle with other people's business; but as to what belonged to the offices he sustained and the important affairs that he had the care of, he had a great understanding of what belonged to them. I have often been surprised at the length of his reach, and what I have seen of his ability to foresee and determine the consequences of things, even at a great distance, and quite beyond the sight of other men. He was not wavering and unsteady in his opinion: his manner was never to pass a judgment rashly, but was wont first thoroughly to deliberate and weigh an affair; and in this, notwithstanding his great abilities, he was glad to improve [by] the help of conversation and discourse with others, and often spake of the great advantage he found by it; but when, on mature consideration, he had settled his judgment, he was not easily turned from it by false colors and plausible pretences and appearances. And besides his knowledge of things belonging to his particular calling as a ruler, he had also a great degree of understanding in things belonging to his general calling as a Christian. He was no inconsiderable divine. He was a wise casuist, as I know by the great help I have found from time to time by his judgment and advice in cases of conscience wherein I have consulted him: and indeed I scarce knew the divine that I ever found more able to help and enlighten the mind in such cases than he. And he had no small degree of knowledge in things pertaining to experimental religion; but was wont to discourse on such subjects, not only with accurate doctrinal distinctions, but as one intimately and feelingly acquainted with these things. He was not only great in speculative knowledge, but his knowledge was practical; such as tended to a wise conduct in the affairs, business and duties of life; so as properly to have the denomination of wisdom, and so as properly and eminently to invest him with the character of a wise man. And he was not only eminently wise and prudent in his own conduct, but was one of the ablest and wisest counsellors of others in any difficult affair. The greatness and honorableness of his disposition was answerable to the largeness of his understanding. He was naturally of a great mind. In this respect he was truly the _son of nobles_. He greatly abhorred things which were mean and sordid, and seemed to be incapable of a compliance with them. How far was he from trifling and impertinence in his conversation! How far from a busy, meddling disposition! How far from any sly and clandestine management to fill his pockets with what was fraudulently withheld or violently squeezed from the laborer, soldier or inferior officer! How far from taking advantage from his commission or authority or any superior power he had in his hands, or the ignorance, dependence or necessities of others, to add to his own gains with what property belonged to them, and with what they might justly expect as a proper reward for any of their services! How far was he from secretly taking bribes offered to induce him to favor any man in his cause, or by his power or interest to promote his being advanced to any place of public trust, honor or profit! How greatly did he abhor lying and prevaricating! And how immovably steadfast was he to exact truth! His hatred of those things that were mean and sordid was so apparent and well known, that it was evident that men dreaded to appear in any thing of that nature in his presence. He was a man remarkably of a public spirit, a true lover of his country and greatly abhorred the sacrificing the public welfare to private interest. He was very eminently endowed with a spirit of government. The God of nature seemed to have formed him for government, as though he had been made on purpose, and cast into a mould by which he should be every way fitted for the business of a man in public authority. Such a behavior and conduct was natural to him as tended to maintain his authority and possess others with awe and reverence, and to enforce and render effectual what he said and did in the exercise of his authority. He did not _bear the sword in vain_: he was truly a _terror to evil doers_. What I saw in him often put me in mind of that saying of the wise man, Prov. xx. 8, "The king that sitteth on the throne of judgment scattereth away all evil with his eyes." He was one that was not afraid of the faces of men; and every one knew that it was in vain to attempt to deter him from doing what, on mature consideration, he had determined he ought to do. Every thing in him was great and becoming a man in his public station. Perhaps never was there a man that appeared in New England to whom the denomination of a _great man_ did more properly belong. But though he was one that was great among men, exalted above others in abilities and greatness of mind and in place of rule, and feared not the faces of men, yet he feared God. He was strictly conscientious in his conduct, both in public and private. I never knew the man that seemed more steadfastly and immovably to act by principle and according to rules and maxims, established and settled in his mind by the dictates of his judgment and conscience. He was a man of strict justice and fidelity. Faithfulness was eminently his character. Some of his greatest opponents that have been of the contrary party to him in public affairs, yet have openly acknowledged this of him, that he was a faithful man. He was remarkably faithful in his public trusts: he would not basely betray his trust, from fear or favor. It was in vain to expect it, however men might oppose him or neglect him, and how great soever they were. Nor would he neglect the public interest, wherein committed to him, for the sake of his own ease, but diligently and laboriously watched and labored for it night and day. And he was faithful in private affairs as well as public: he was a most faithful friend, faithful to any one that in any case asked his counsel; and his fidelity might be depended on in whatever affair he undertook for any of his neighbors. He was a noted instance of the virtue of temperance, unalterable in it, in all places, in all companies, and in the midst of all temptations. Though he was a man of a great spirit, yet he had a remarkable government of his spirit; and excelled in the government of his tongue. In the midst of all provocations he met with, among the multitudes he had to deal with, and the great multiplicity of perplexing affairs in which he was concerned, and all the opposition and reproaches he was at any time the subject of; yet what was there that ever proceeded out of his mouth that his enemies could lay hold of? No profane language, no vain, rash, unseemly and unchristian speeches. If at any time he expressed himself with great warmth and vigor, it seemed to be from principle and determination of his judgment, rather than from passion. When he expressed himself strongly and with vehemence, those that were acquainted with him, and well observed him from time to time, might evidently see it was done in consequence of thought and judgment, weighing the circumstances and consequences of things. The calmness and steadiness of his behavior in private, particularly in his family, appeared remarkable and exemplary to those who had most opportunity to observe it. He was thoroughly established in those religious principles and doctrines of the first fathers of New England, usually called the _doctrines of grace_, and had a great detestation of the opposite errors of the present fashionable divinity, as very contrary to the word of God and the experience of every true Christian. And as he was a friend to truth, so he was a friend to vital piety and the power of godliness, and ever countenanced and favored it on all occasions. He abhorred profaneness, and was a person of a serious and decent spirit, and ever treated sacred things with reverence. He was exemplary for his decent attendance on the public worship of God. Who ever saw him irreverently and indecently lolling and laying down his head to sleep, or gazing and staring about the meeting-house in time of divine service? And as he was able (as was before observed) to discourse very understandingly of experimental religion, so to some persons with whom he was very intimate, he gave intimations sufficiently plain, while conversing of these things, that they were matters of his own experience. And some serious persons in civil authority that have ordinarily differed from him in matters of government, yet, on some occasional close conversation with him on things of religion, have manifested a high opinion of him as to real experimental piety. As he was known to be a serious person, and an enemy to a profane or vain conversation, so he was feared on that account by great and small. When he was in the room, only his presence was sufficient to maintain decency; though many were there that were accounted gentlemen and great men, who otherwise were disposed to take a much greater freedom in their talk and behavior than they dared to do in his presence. He was not unmindful of death, nor insensible of his own frailty, nor did death come unexpected to him. For some years past he has spoken much to some persons of dying and going into the eternal world, signifying that he did not expect to continue long here. Added to all these things that have been mentioned to render him eminently a _strong rod_, he was attended with many circumstances which tended to give him advantage for the exerting of his strength for the public good. He was honorably descended, was a man of considerable substance, had been long in authority, was extensively known and honored abroad, was high in the esteem of the many tribes of Indians in the neighborhood of the British colonies, and so had great influence upon them above any other man in New England; God had endowed him with a comely presence and majesty of countenance, becoming the great qualities of his mind and the place in which God had set him. In the exercise of these qualities and endowments, under these advantages, he has been, as it were, a father to this part of the land, on whom the whole county had, under God, its dependence in all its public affairs, and especially since the beginning of the present war.° How much the weight of all the warlike concerns of the county (which above any part of the land lies exposed to the enemy) has lain on his shoulders, and how he has been the spring of all motion and the doer of every thing that has been done, and how wisely and faithfully he has conducted these affairs, I need not inform this congregation. You well know that he took care of the county as a father of a family of children, not neglecting men's lives and making light of their blood; but with great diligence, vigilance and prudence applying himself continually to the proper means of our safety and welfare. And especially has this his native town, where he has dwelt from his infancy, reaped the benefit of his happy influence: his wisdom has been, under God, very much our guide, and his authority our support and strength, and he has been a great honor to Northampton and ornament to our church. He continued in full capacity of usefulness while he lived; he was indeed considerably advanced in years, but his powers of mind were not sensibly abated, and his strength of body was not so impaired but that he was able to go long journeys, in extreme heat and cold, and in a short time. But now this "strong rod is broken and withered," and surely the judgment of God therein is very awful, and the dispensation that which may well be for a lamentation. Probably we shall be more sensible of the worth and importance of such a strong rod by the want of it. The awful voice of God in this providence is worthy to be attended to by this whole province, and especially by the people of this county, but in a more peculiar manner by us of this town. We have now this testimony of the divine displeasure added to all the other dark clouds God has lately brought over us, and his awful frowns upon us. 'Tis a dispensation, on many accounts, greatly calling for our humiliation and fear before God; an awful manifestation of his supreme, universal and absolute dominion, calling us to adore the divine sovereignty and tremble at the presence of this great God. And it is a lively instance of human frailty and mortality. We see how that none are out of the reach of death, that no greatness, no authority, no wisdom and sagacity, no honorableness of person or station, no degree of valuableness and importance exempts from the stroke of death. This is therefore a loud and solemn warning to all sorts to prepare for their departure hence. And the memory of this person who is now gone, who was made so great a blessing while he lived, should engage us to show respect and kindness to his family. This we should do both out of respect to him and to his father, your former eminent pastor, who in his day was, in a remarkable manner, a father to this part of the land in spirituals, and especially to this town, as this his son has been in temporals.--God greatly resented it, when the children of Israel did not show kindness to the house of Jerubbaal that had been made an instrument of so much good to them: Judges viii. 35, "Neither showed they kindness to the house of Jerrubbaal, according to all the good which he had showed unto Israel." VII A FAREWELL SERMON° 2 COR. i. 14.--As also you have acknowledged us in part, that we are your rejoicing, even as ye also are ours in the day of the Lord Jesus. The apostle, in the preceding part of the chapter, declares what great troubles he met with in the course of his ministry. In the text and two foregoing verses, he declares what were his comforts and supports under the troubles he met with. There are four things in particular. 1. That he had approved himself to his own conscience, verse 12: "For our own rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had our conversation in the world, and more abundantly to you-ward." 2. Another thing he speaks of as matter of comfort is, that as he had approved himself to his own conscience, so he had also to the consciences of his hearers, the Corinthians, whom he now wrote to, and that they should approve of him at the day of judgment. 3. The hope he had of seeing the blessed fruit of his labors and sufferings in the ministry, in their happiness and glory, in that great day of accounts. 4. That, in his ministry among the Corinthians, he had approved himself to his Judge, who would approve and reward his faithfulness in that day. These three last particulars are signified in my text and the preceding verse; and, indeed, all the four are implied in the text. 'Tis implied that the Corinthians had acknowledged him as their spiritual father and as one that had been faithful among them, and as the means of their future joy and glory at the day of judgment, and one whom they should then see, and have a joyful meeting with as such. 'Tis implied, that the apostle expected at that time to have a joyful meeting with them before the Judge, and with joy to behold their glory, as the fruit of his labors; and so they would be his rejoicing. 'Tis implied also that he then expected to be approved of the great Judge, when he and they should meet together before him; and that he would then acknowledge his fidelity, and that this had been the means of their glory; and that thus he would, as it were, give them to him as his crown of rejoicing. But this the apostle could not hope for, unless he had the testimony of his own conscience in his favor. And therefore the words do imply, in the strongest manner, that he had approved himself to his own conscience. There is one thing implied in each of these particulars, and in every part of the text, which is that point I shall make the subject of my present discourse, viz.: DOCT[RINE] _Ministers, and the people that are under their care, must meet one another before Christ's tribunal at the day of judgment._ Ministers, and the people that have been under their care, must be parted in this world, how well soever they have been united: if they are not separated before, they must be parted by death; and they may be separated while life is continued. We live in a world of change, where nothing is certain or stable; and where a little time, a few revolutions of the sun bring to pass strange things, surprising alterations, in particular persons, in families, in towns and churches, in countries and nations. It often happens, that those who seem most united, in a little time are most disunited, and at the greatest distance. Thus ministers and people, between whom there has been the greatest mutual regard and strictest union, may not only differ in their judgments, and be alienated in affection, but one may rend from the other, and all relation between them be dissolved; the minister may be removed to a distant place, and they may never have any more to do with one another in this world. But if it be so, there is one meeting more that they must have, and that is in the last great day of accounts. Here I would show, I. In what manner ministers, and the people who have been under their care, shall meet one another at the day of judgment. II. For what purposes. III. For what reasons God has so ordered it, that ministers and their people shall then meet together in such a manner, and for such purposes. I. I would show, in some particulars, in what manner ministers, and the people who have been under their care, shall meet one another at the day of judgment. Concerning this I would observe two things in general. 1. That they shall not then meet only as all mankind must then meet, but there will be something peculiar in the manner of their meeting. 2. That their meeting together at that time shall be very different from what used to be in the house of God in this world. 1. They shall not meet at that day as all the world must then meet together. I would observe a difference in two things. (1) As to a clear actual view, and distinct knowledge and notice of each other. Although the whole world will be then present, all mankind of all generations gathered in one vast assembly, with all of the angelic nature, both elect and fallen angels; yet we need not suppose that every one will have a distinct and particular knowledge of each individual of the whole assembled multitude, which will undoubtedly consist of many millions of millions. Though 'tis probable that men's capacities will be much greater than in the present state, yet they will not be infinite; though their understanding and comprehension will be vastly extended, yet men will not be deified. There will probably be a very enlarged view that particular persons will have of various parts and members of that vast assembly, and so of the proceedings of that great day; but yet it must needs be, that according to the nature of finite minds, some persons and some things at that day shall fall more under the notice of particular persons than others; and this (as we may well suppose) according as they shall have a nearer concern with some than others, in the transactions of the day. There will be special reason why those who have had special concerns together in this world, in their state of probation, and whose mutual affairs will be then to be tried and judged, should especially be set in one another's view. Thus we may suppose that rulers and subjects, earthly judges and those whom they have judged, neighbors who have had mutual converse, dealings and contests, heads of families and their children and servants, shall then meet, and in a peculiar distinction be set together. And especially will it be thus with ministers and their people. 'Tis evident by the text that these shall be in each other's view, shall distinctly know each other, and shall have particular notice one of another at that time. (2) They shall meet together, as having a special concern one with another in the great transactions of that day. Although they shall meet the whole world at that time, yet they will not have any immediate and particular concern with all. Yea, the far greater part of those who shall then be gathered together, will be such as they have had no intercourse with in their state of probation, and so will have no mutual concerns to be judged of. But as to ministers, and the people that have been under their care, they will be such as have had much immediate concern one with another, in matters of the greatest moment, that ever mankind have to do one with another in. Therefore they especially must meet and be brought together before the judge, as having special concern one with another in the design and business of that great day of accounts. Thus their meeting, as to the manner of it, will be diverse from the meeting of mankind in general. 2. Their meeting at the day of judgment will be very diverse from their meetings one with another in this world. Ministers and their people, while their relation continues, often meet together in this world. They are wont to meet from Sabbath to Sabbath, and at other times, for the public worship of God, and administration of ordinances, and the solemn services of God's house. And besides these meetings, they have also occasions to meet for the determining and managing their ecclesiastical affairs, for the exercise of church discipline, and the settling and adjusting those things which concern the purity and good order of public administrations. But their meeting at the day of judgment will be exceeding diverse, in its manner and circumstance, from any such meetings and interviews as they have one with another in the present state. I would observe how, in a few particulars. (1) Now they meet together in a preparatory mutable state, but then in an unchangeable state. Now sinners in the congregation meet their minister in a state wherein they are capable of a saving change, capable of being turned, through God's blessing on the ministrations and labors of their pastor, from the power of Satan unto God; and being brought out of a state of guilt, condemnation and wrath, to a state of peace and favor with God, to the enjoyment of the privileges of his children, and a title to their eternal inheritance. And saints now meet their minister with great remains of corruption, and sometimes under great spiritual difficulties and affliction: and therefore are yet the proper subjects of means of an happy alteration of their state, consisting in a greater freedom from these things, which they have reason to hope for in the way of an attendance on ordinances, and of which God is pleased commonly to make his ministers the instruments. And ministers and their people now meet in order to the bringing to pass such happy changes; they are the great benefits sought in their solemn meetings in this world. But when they shall meet together at the day of judgment, it will be far otherwise. They will not then meet in order to the use of means for the bringing to effect any such changes; for they will all meet in an unchangeable state. Sinners will be in an unchangeable state: they who then shall be under the guilt and power of sin, and have the wrath of God abiding on them, shall be beyond all remedy or possibility of change, and shall meet their ministers without any hopes of relief or remedy, or getting any good by their means. And as for the saints, they will be already perfectly delivered from all their before remaining corruption, temptation, and calamities of every kind, and set forever out of their reach; and no deliverance, no happy alteration, will remain to be accomplished in the way of the use of means of grace, under the administrations of ministers. It will then be pronounced, "He that is unjust, let him be unjust still; and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still; and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still; and he that is holy, let him be holy still." (2) Then they shall meet together in a state of clear, certain and infallible light. Ministers are set as guides and teachers, and are represented in Scripture as lights set up in the churches; and in the present state meet their people from time to time in order to instruct and enlighten them, to correct their mistakes, and to be a voice behind them, when they turn aside to the right hand or to the left, saying, "This is the way, walk in it;" to evince and confirm the truth by exhibiting the proper evidences of it, and to refute errors and corrupt opinions, to convince the erroneous and establish the doubting. But when Christ shall come to judgment, every error and false opinion shall be detected; all deceit and illusion shall vanish away before the light of that day, as the darkness of the night vanishes at the appearance of the rising sun; and every doctrine of the word of God shall then appear in full evidence, and none shall remain unconvinced; all shall know the truth with the greatest certainty, and there shall be no mistakes to rectify. Now ministers and their people may disagree in their judgments concerning some matters of religion, and may sometimes meet to confer together concerning those things wherein they differ, and to hear the reasons that may be offered on one side and the other; and all may be ineffectual as to any conviction of the truth: they may meet and part again, no more agreed than before; and that side which was in the wrong may remain so still; sometimes the meetings of ministers with their people in such a case of disagreeing sentiments are attended with unhappy debate and controversy, managed with much prejudice and want of candor; not tending to light and conviction, but rather to confirm and increase darkness, and establish opposition to the truth and alienation of affection one from another. But when they shall hereafter meet together, at the day of judgment, before the tribunal of the great Judge, the mind and will of Christ will be made known; and there shall no longer be any debate or difference of opinions; the evidence of the truth shall appear beyond all dispute, and all controversies shall be finally and forever decided. Now ministers meet their people in order to enlighten and awaken the consciences of sinners: setting before them the great evil and danger of sin, the strictness of God's law, their own wickedness of heart and practice, the great guilt they are under, the wrath that abides upon them, and their impotence, blindness, poverty, and helpless and undone condition: but all is often in vain; they remain still, notwithstanding all their ministers can say, stupid and unawakened, and their consciences unconvinced. But it will not be so at their last meeting at the day of judgment; sinners, when they shall meet their minister before their great Judge, will not meet him with a stupid conscience: they will then be fully convinced of the truth of those things which they formerly heard from him, concerning the greatness and terrible majesty of God, his holiness, and hatred of sin, and his awful justice in punishing it, the strictness of his law, and the dreadfulness and truth of his threatenings, and their own unspeakable guilt and misery: and they shall never more be insensible of these things: the eyes of conscience will now be fully enlightened, and never shall be blinded again: the mouth of conscience shall now be opened, and never shall be shut any more. Now ministers meet with their people, in public and private, in order to enlighten them concerning the state of their souls; to open and apply the rules of God's word to them, in order to their searching their own hearts, and discerning the state that they are in. But now ministers have no infallible discerning of the state of the souls of their own people; and the most skilful of them are liable to mistakes, and often are mistaken in things of this nature. Nor are the people able certainly to know the state of their minister, or one another's state; very often those pass among them for saints, and it may be eminent saints, that are grand hypocrites; and on the other hand, those are sometimes censured, or hardly received into their charity, that are indeed some of God's jewels. And nothing is more common than for men to be mistaken concerning their own state: many that are abominable to God, and the children of his wrath, think highly of themselves, as his precious saints and dear children. Yea, there is reason to think that often some that are most bold in their confidence of their safe and happy state, and think themselves not only true saints, but the most eminent saints in the congregation, are in a peculiar manner a smoke in God's nose. And thus it undoubtedly often is in those congregations where the word of God is most faithfully dispensed, notwithstanding all that ministers can say in their clearest explications and most searching applications of the doctrines and rules of God's word to the souls of their hearers, in their meetings one with another. But in the day of judgment they shall have another sort of meeting; then the secrets of every heart shall be made manifest, and every man's state shall be perfectly known: 1 Cor. iv. 5, "Therefore, judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who will both bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts: and then shall every man have praise of God." Then none shall be deceived concerning his own state, nor shall be any more in doubt about it. There shall be an eternal end to all the ill conceit and vain hopes of deluded hypocrites, and all the doubts and fears of sincere Christians. And then shall all know the state of one another's souls: the people shall know whether their minister has been sincere and faithful, and the ministers shall know the state of every one of their people, and to whom the word and ordinances of God have been a savor of life unto life, and to whom a savor of death unto death. Now in this present state it often happens that when ministers and people meet together to debate and manage their ecclesiastical affairs, especially in a state of controversy, they are ready to judge and censure one another with regard to each other's views and designs, and the principles and ends that each is influenced by; and are greatly mistaken in their judgment, and wrong one another with regard to each other's views and designs and the principles and ends that each is influenced by, and are greatly mistaken in their judgment, and wrong one another in their censures. But at that future meeting, things will be set in a true and perfect light, and the principles and aims that every one has acted from shall be certainly known; and there will be an end to all errors of this kind, and all unrighteous censures. (3) In this world, ministers and their people often meet together to hear of and wait upon an unseen Lord; but at the day of judgment they shall meet in his most immediate and visible presence. Ministers, who now often meet their people to preach to 'em the King eternal, immortal, and invisible, to convince 'em that there is a God, and declare to 'em what manner of being he is, and to convince 'em that he governs and will judge the world, and that there is a future state of rewards and punishments, and to preach to 'em a Christ in heaven and at the right hand of God in an unseen world, shall then meet their people in the most immediate sensible presence of this great God, Saviour and Judge, appearing in the most plain, visible and open manner, with great glory, with all his holy angels, before them and the whole world. They shall not meet them to hear about an absent Christ, an unseen Lord and future Judge; but to appear before that Judge, and as being set together in the presence of that supreme Lord, in his immense glory and awful majesty, whom they have heard so often of in their meetings together on earth. (4) The meeting, at the last day, of ministers, and the people that have been under their care, will not be attended by any one with a careless, heedless heart. With such an heart are their meetings often attended in this world by many persons, having little regard to him whom they pretend unitedly to adore in the solemn duties of his public worship, taking little heed to their own thoughts or frame of their minds, not attending to the business they are engaged in, or considering the end for which they are come together. But the meeting at that great day will be very different: there will not be one careless heart, no sleeping, no wandering of mind from the great concern of the meeting, no inattentiveness to the business of the day, no regardlessness of the presence they are in, or of those great things which they shall hear from Christ at that meeting, or that they formerly heard from him and of him by their ministers, in their meeting in a state of trial, or which they shall now hear their ministers declaring concerning them before their judge. Having observed these things concerning the manner and circumstances of this future meeting of ministers and the people that have been under their care, before the tribunal of Christ at the day of judgment, I now proceed, II. To observe to what purposes they shall then meet. 1. To give an account, before the great Judge, of their behavior one to another in the relation they stood in to each other in this world. Ministers are sent forth by Christ to their people on his business, are his servants and messengers; and, when they have finished their service, they must return to their master to give him an account of what they have done, and of the entertainment they have had in performing their ministry. Thus we find, in Luke xiv. 16-21, that when the servant who was sent forth to call the guests to the great supper had done his errand, and finished his appointed service, he returned to his master, and gave him an account of what he had done, and of the entertainment he had received. And when the master, being angry, sent his servant to others, he returns again, and gives his master an account of his conduct and success. So we read, in Heb. xiii. 17, of ministers being rulers in the house of God, "that watch for souls, as those that must give account." And we see by the forementioned Luke xiv., that ministers must give an account to their master, not only of their own behavior in the discharge of their office, but also of their people's reception of them, and of the treatment they have met with among them. And therefore, as they will be called to give an account of both, they shall give an account at the great day of accounts in the presence of their people; they and their people being both present before their Judge. Faithful ministers will then give an account with joy, concerning those who have received them well and made a good improvement of their ministry; and these will be given 'em, at that day, as their crown of rejoicing. And, at the same time, they will give an account of the ill treatment of such as have not well received them and their messages from Christ: they will meet these, not as they used to do in this world, to counsel and warn them, but to bear witness against them, and as their judges and assessors with Christ, to condemn them. And on the other hand, the people will, at that day, rise up in judgment against wicked and unfaithful ministers who have sought their own temporal interest more than the good of the souls of their flock. 2. At that time ministers, and the people who have been under their care, shall meet together before Christ, that he may judge between them, as to any controversies which have subsisted between them in this world. So it very often comes to pass in this evil world, that great differences and controversies arise between ministers and the people that are under their pastoral care. Though they are under the greatest obligations to live in peace, above persons in almost any relation whatever; and although contests and dissensions between persons so related are the most unhappy and terrible in their consequences, on many accounts, of any sort of contentions; yet how frequent have such contentions been! Sometimes a people contest with their ministers about their doctrine, sometimes about their administrations and conduct, and sometimes about their maintenance; and sometimes such contests continue a long time; and sometimes they are decided in this world according to the prevailing interest of one party or the other, rather than by the word of God and the reason of things; and sometimes such controversies never have any proper determination in this world. But at the day of judgment there will be a full, perfect and everlasting decision of them. The infallible Judge, the infinite fountain of light, truth and justice, will judge between the contending parties, and will declare what is the truth, who is in the right, and what is agreeable to his mind and will. And in order hereto the parties must stand together before him at the last day; which will be the great day of finishing and determining all controversies, rectifying all mistakes and abolishing all unrighteous judgments, errors and confusions, which have before subsisted in the world of mankind. 3. Ministers, and the people that have been under their care, must meet together at that time to receive an eternal sentence and retribution from the judge, in the presence of each other, according to their behavior in the relation they stood in one to another in the present state. The Judge will not only declare justice, but he will do justice between ministers and their people. He will declare what is right between them, approving him that has been just and faithful, and condemning the unjust; and perfect truth and equity shall take place in the sentence which he passes, in the rewards he bestows and the punishments which he inflicts. There shall be a glorious reward to faithful ministers: to those who have been successful: Dan. xii. 3, "And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars forever and ever;" and also to those who have been faithful, and yet not successful: Isa. xlix. 4, "Then I said, I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nought: yet surely my judgment is with the Lord, and my reward with my God." And those who have well received and entertained them shall be gloriously rewarded: Matt. x. 40, 41, "He that receiveth you receiveth me, and he that receiveth me receiveth him that sent me. He that receiveth a prophet in the name of a prophet shall receive a prophet's reward; and he that receiveth a righteous man in the name of a righteous man shall receive a righteous man's reward." Such people, and their faithful ministers, shall be each other's crown of rejoicing: 1 Thess. ii. 19, 20, "For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming? For ye are our glory and joy." And in the text, _We are your rejoicing, as ye also are ours, in the day of the Lord Jesus_. But they that evil entreat Christ's faithful ministers, especially in that wherein they are faithful, shall be severely punished: Matt. x. 14, 15, "And whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your words, when ye depart out of that house or city, shake off the dust of your feet. Verily I say unto you, It shall be more tolerable for the sinners of Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment, than for that city." Deut. xxxiii. 8-11, "And of Levi he said, Let thy Urim and thy Thummim be with thy holy one.... They shall teach Jacob thy judgments, and Israel thy law.... Bless, Lord, his substance, and accept the work of his hands: smite through the loins of them that rise against him, and of them that hate him, that they rise not again." On the other hand, those ministers who are found to have been unfaithful shall have a most terrible punishment. See Ezek. xxxiii. 6; Matt. xxiii. 1-33. Thus justice shall be administered at the great day to ministers and their people. And to that end they shall meet together, that they may not only receive justice to themselves, but see justice done to the other party: for this is the end of that great day, to reveal or declare the righteous judgment of God, Rom. ii. 5. Ministers shall have justice done them, and they shall see justice done to their people: and the people shall receive justice and see justice done to their minister. And so all things will be adjusted and settled forever between them; every one being sentenced and recompensed according to his works, either in receiving and wearing a crown of eternal joy and glory, or in suffering everlasting shame and pain. I come now to the next thing proposed, viz., III. To give some reasons why we may suppose God has so ordered it, that ministers, and the people that have been under their care, shall meet together at the day of judgment, in such a manner and for such purposes. There are two things which I would now observe: 1. The mutual concerns of ministers and their people are of the greatest importance. The Scripture declares, that God will bring every work into judgment with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil. 'Tis fit that all the concerns and all the behavior of mankind, both public and private, should be brought at last before God's tribunal, and finally determined by an infallible Judge: but it is especially requisite that it should be thus, as to affairs of very great importance. Now the mutual concerns of a Christian minister and his church and congregation are of the vastest importance: in many respects, of much greater moment than the temporal concerns of the greatest earthly monarchs and their kingdoms or empires. It is of vast consequence how ministers discharge their office, and conduct themselves towards their people in the work of the ministry, and in affairs appertaining to it. 'Tis also a matter of vast importance, how a people receive and entertain a faithful minister of Christ, and what improvement they make of his ministry. These things have a more immediate and direct respect to the great and last end for which man was made, and the eternal welfare of mankind, than any of the temporal concerns of men, whether public or private. And therefore 'tis especially fit that these affairs should be brought into judgment and openly determined and settled in truth and righteousness; and that to this end, ministers and their people should meet together before the omniscient and infallible Judge. 2. The mutual concerns of ministers and their people have a special relation to the main things appertaining to the day of judgment. They have a special relation to that great and divine person who will then appear as Judge. Ministers are his messengers, sent forth by him; and, in their office and administrations among their people, represent his person, stand in his stead, as those that are sent to declare his mind, to do his work and to speak and act in his name. And therefore 'tis especially fit that they should return to him, to give an account of their work and success. The king is judge of all his subjects, they are all accountable to him. But it is more especially requisite that the king's ministers, who are especially intrusted with the administrations of his kingdom, and that are sent forth on some special negotiation, should return to him, to give an account of themselves, and their discharge of their trust, and the reception they have met with. Ministers are not only messengers of the person who at the last day will appear as Judge, but the errand they are sent upon, and the affairs they have committed to them as his ministers, do most immediately concern his honor and the interest of his kingdom. The work they are sent upon is to promote the designs of his administration and government; and therefore their business with their people has a near relation to the day of judgment; for the great end of that day is completely to settle and establish the affairs of his kingdom, to adjust all things that pertain to it, that every thing that is opposite to the interests of his kingdom may be removed, and that every thing which contributes to the completeness and glory of it may be perfected and confirmed, that this great King may receive his due honor and glory. Again, the mutual concerns of ministers and their people have a direct relation to the concerns of the day of judgment, as the business of ministers with their people is to promote the eternal salvation of the souls of men and their escape from eternal damnation; and the day of judgment is the day appointed for that end, openly to decide and settle men's eternal state, to fix some in a state of eternal salvation and to bring their salvation to its utmost consummation, and to fix others in a state of everlasting damnation and most perfect misery. The mutual concerns of ministers and people have a most direct relation to the day of judgment, as the very design of the work of the ministry is the people's preparation for that day. Ministers are sent to warn them of the approach of that day, to forewarn them of the dreadful sentence then to be pronounced on the wicked, and declare to them the blessed sentence then to be pronounced on the righteous, and to use means with them that they may escape the wrath which is then to come on the ungodly, and obtain the reward then to be bestowed on the saints. And as the mutual concerns of ministers and their people have so near and direct a relation to that day, it is especially fit that those concerns should be brought into that day, and there settled and issued; and that in order to this, ministers and their people should meet and appear together before the great Judge at that day. APPLICATION The improvement I would make of the things which have been observed, is to lead the people here present who have been under my pastoral care to some reflections, and give them some advice suitable to our present circumstances; relating to what has been lately done in order to our being separated, as to the relation we have heretofore stood in one to another; but expecting to meet each other before the great tribunal at the day of judgment. The deep and serious consideration of that our future most solemn meeting is certainly most suitable at such a time as this; there having so lately been that done, which, in all probability, will (as to the relation we have heretofore stood in) be followed with an everlasting separation. How often have we met together in the house of God in this relation! How often have I spoke to you, instructed, counselled, warned, directed and fed you, and administered ordinances among you, as the people which were committed to my care, and whose precious souls I had the charge of! But in all probability this never will be again.° The prophet Jeremiah (chap. xxv. 3), puts the people in mind how long he had labored among them in the work of the ministry: "From the thirteenth year of Josiah the son of Amon king of Judah, even unto this day, that is the three and twentieth year, the word of the Lord came unto me, and I have spoken unto you, rising early and speaking." I am not about to compare myself with the prophet Jeremiah; but in this respect I can say as he did, that "I have spoken the word of God to you unto the three and twentieth year, rising early and speaking." It was three and twenty years, the 15th day of last February, since I have labored in the work of the ministry, in the relation of a pastor to this church and congregation. And though my strength has been weakness, having always labored under great infirmity of body, besides my insufficiency for so great a charge in other respects, yet I have not spared my feeble strength, but have exerted it for the good of your souls. I can appeal to you as the apostle does to his bearers, Gal. iv. 13, "Ye know how through infirmity of the flesh I preached the gospel unto you." I have spent the prime of my life and strength in labors for your eternal welfare. You are my witnesses, that what strength I have had I have not neglected in idleness, nor laid out in prosecuting worldly schemes and managing temporal affairs, for the advancement of my outward estate, and aggrandizing myself and family; but have given myself wholly to the work of the ministry, laboring in it night and day, rising early and applying myself to this great business to which Christ appointed me. I have found the work of the ministry among you to be a great work indeed, a work of exceeding care, labor and difficulty: many have been the heavy burdens that I have borne in it, which my strength has been very unequal to. God called me to bear these burdens; and I bless his name, that he has so supported me as to keep me from sinking under them, and that his power herein has been manifested in my weakness; so that although I have often been troubled on every side, yet I have not been distressed; perplexed, but not in despair; cast down, but not destroyed. But now I have reason to think my work is finished which I had to do as your minister: you have publicly rejected me, and my opportunities cease. How highly therefore does it now become us to consider of that time when we must meet one another before the chief Shepherd! When I must give an account of my stewardship, of the service I have done for, and the reception and treatment I have had among, the people he sent me to: and you must give an account of your own conduct towards me, and the improvement you have made of these three and twenty years of my ministry. For then both you and I must appear together, and we both must give an account, in order to an infallible, righteous and eternal sentence to be passed upon us by him who will judge us with respect to all that we have said or done in our meeting here, all our conduct one towards another, in the house of God and elsewhere, on Sabbath days and on other days; who will try our hearts and manifest our thoughts, and the principles and frames of our minds, will judge us with respect to all the controversies which have subsisted between us, with the strictest impartiality, and will examine our treatment of each other in those controversies. There is nothing covered that shall not be revealed, nor hid which shall not be known; all will be examined in the searching, penetrating light of God's omniscience and glory, and by him whose eyes are as a flame of fire; and truth and right shall be made plainly to appear, being stripped of every veil; and all error, falsehood, unrighteousness and injury shall be laid open, stripped of every disguise; every specious pretence, every cavil and all false reasoning shall vanish in a moment, as not being able to bear the light of that day. And then our hearts will be turned inside out, and the secrets of them will be made more plainly to appear than our outward actions do now. Then it shall appear what the ends are which we have aimed at, what have been the governing principles which we have acted from, and what have been the dispositions we have exercised in our ecclesiastical disputes and contests. Then it will appear whether I acted uprightly, and from a truly conscientious, careful regard to my duty to my great Lord and Master, in some former ecclesiastical controversies, which have been attended with exceeding unhappy circumstances and consequences: it will appear whether there was any just cause for the resentment which was manifested on those occasions. And then our late grand controversy, concerning the qualifications necessary for admission to the privileges of members in complete standing in the visible church of Christ, will be examined and judged in all its parts and circumstances, and the whole set forth in a clear, certain and perfect light. Then it will appear whether the doctrine which I have preached and published concerning this matter be Christ's own doctrine, whether he will not own it as one of the precious truths which have proceeded from his own mouth, and vindicate and honor as such before the whole universe. Then it will appear what is meant by "the man that comes without the wedding garment"; for that is the day spoken of, Matt. xxii. 13, wherein such an one shall be bound hand and foot, and cast into outer darkness, where shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. And then it will appear whether, in declaring this doctrine, and acting agreeable to it, and in my general conduct in the affair, I have been influenced from any regard to my own temporal interest or honor, or desire to appear wiser than others; or have acted from any sinister, secular views whatsoever; and whether what I have done has not been from a careful, strict and tender regard to the will of my Lord and Master, and because I dare not offend him, being satisfied what his will was, after a long, diligent, impartial and prayerful inquiry; having this constantly in view and prospect to engage me to great solicitude not rashly to determine truth to be on this side of the question, where I am now persuaded it is, that such a determination would not be for my temporal interest, but every way against it, bringing a long series of extreme difficulties and plunging me into an abyss of trouble and sorrow. And then it will appear whether my people have done their duty to their pastor with respect to this matter; whether they have shown a right temper and spirit on this occasion; whether they have done me justice in hearing, attending to and considering what I had to say in evidence of what I believed and taught as part of the counsel of God; whether I have been treated with that impartiality, candor and regard which the just Judge esteemed due; and whether, in the many steps which have been taken and the many things that have been said and done in the course of this controversy, righteousness and charity and Christian decorum have been maintained; or, if otherwise, to how great a degree these things have been violated. Then every step of the conduct of each of us in this affair, from first to last, and the spirit we have exercised in all shall be examined and manifested, and our own consciences shall speak plain and loud, and each of us shall be convinced, and the world shall know; and never shall there be any more mistake, misrepresentation or misapprehension of the affair to eternity. This controversy is now probably brought to an issue between you and me as to this world; it has issued in the event of the week before last: but it must have another decision at that great day, which certainly will come, when you and I shall meet together before the great judgment seat: and therefore I leave it to that time, and shall say no more about it at present. But I would now proceed to address myself particularly to several sorts of persons. I. To those who are professors of godliness amongst us. I would now call you to a serious consideration of that great day wherein you must meet him who has heretofore been your pastor, before the Judge whose eyes are as a flame of fire. I have endeavored, according to my best ability, to search the word of God, with regard to the distinguishing notes of true piety, those by which persons might best discover their state, and most surely and clearly judge of themselves. And these rules and marks I have from time to time applied to you in the preaching of the word to the utmost of my skill, and in the most plain and searching manner that I have been able, in order to the detecting the deceived hypocrite and establishing the hopes and comforts of the sincere. And yet 'tis to be feared, that after all that I have done, I now leave some of you in a deceived, deluded state; for 'tis not to be supposed that among several hundred professors, none are deceived. Henceforward I am like to have no more opportunity to take the care and charge of your souls, to examine and search them. But still I entreat you to remember and consider the rules which I have often laid down to you during my ministry, with a solemn regard to the future day when you and I must meet together before our Judge; when the uses of examination you have heard from me must be rehearsed again before you, and those rules of trial must be tried, and it will appear whether they have been good or not; and it will also appear whether you have impartially heard them, and tried yourselves by them; and the Judge himself, who is infallible, will try both you and me: and after this none will be deceived concerning the state of their souls. I have often put you in mind that, whatever your pretences to experiences, discoveries, comforts and joys have been, at that day every one will be judged according to his works; and then you will find it so. May you have a minister of greater knowledge of the word of God and better acquaintance with soul cases, and of greater skill in applying himself to souls, whose discourses may be more searching and convincing; that such of you as have held fast deceit under my preaching may have your eyes opened by his; that you may be undeceived before that great day. What means and helps for instruction and self-examination you may hereafter have is uncertain; but one thing is certain, that the time is short, your opportunity for rectifying mistakes in so important a concern will soon come to an end. We live in a world of great changes. There is now a great change come to pass; you have withdrawn yourselves from my ministry under which you have continued for so many years: but the time is coming, and will soon come, when you will pass out of time into eternity; and so will pass from under all means of grace whatsoever. The greater part of you who are professors of godliness have (to use the phrase of the apostle) "acknowledged me in part": you have heretofore acknowledged me to be your spiritual father, the instrument of the greatest good to you that ever is or can be obtained by any of the children of men. Consider of that day when you and I shall meet before our Judge, when it shall be examined whether you have had from me the treatment which is due to spiritual children, and whether you have treated me as you ought to have treated a spiritual father. As the relation of a natural parent brings great obligations on children in the sight of God; so much more, in many respects, does the relation of a spiritual father bring great obligations on such whose conversation and eternal salvation they suppose God has made them the instrument of: 1 Cor. iv. 15. "For though you have ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet have ye not many fathers: for in Christ Jesus I have begotten you through the gospel." II. Now I am taking my leave of this people I would apply myself to such among them as I leave in a Christless, graceless condition; and would call on such seriously to consider of that solemn day when they and I must meet before the Judge of the world. My parting with you is in some respects in a peculiar manner a melancholy parting; inasmuch as I leave you in most melancholy circumstances; because I leave you in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity, having the wrath of God abiding on you, and remaining under condemnation to everlasting misery and destruction. Seeing I must leave you, it would have been a comfortable and happy circumstance of our parting if I had left you in Christ, safe and blessed in that sure refuge and glorious rest of the saints. But it is otherwise. I leave you far off, aliens and strangers, wretched subjects and captives of sin and Satan and prisoners of vindictive justice; without Christ and without God in the world. Your consciences bear me witness, that while I had opportunity, I have not ceased to warn you and set before you your danger. I have studied to represent the misery and necessity of your circumstances in the clearest manner possible. I have tried all ways that I could think of tending to awaken your consciences, and make you sensible of the necessity of your improving your time, and being speedy in flying from the wrath to come and thorough in the use of means for your escape and safety. I have diligently endeavored to find out and use the most powerful motives to persuade you to take care for your own welfare and salvation. I have not only endeavored to awaken you, that you might be moved with fear, but I have used my utmost endeavors to win you: I have sought out acceptable words, that if possible I might prevail upon you to forsake sin, and turn to God, and accept of Christ as your Saviour and Lord. I have spent my strength very much in these things. But yet, with regard to you whom I am now speaking to, I have not been successful: but have this day reason to complain in those words, Jer. vi. 29: "The bellows are burnt, the lead is consumed of the fire; the founder melteth in vain: for the wicked are not plucked away." 'Tis to be feared that all my labors, as to many of you, have served no other purpose but to harden you; and that the word which I have preached, instead of being a savor of life unto life, has been a savor of death unto death. Though I shall not have any account to give for the future of such as have openly and resolutely renounced my ministry, as of a betrustment committed to me: yet remember you must give account for yourselves of your care of your own souls, and your improvement of all means past and future, through your whole lives. God only knows what will become of your poor, perishing souls, what means you may hereafter enjoy, or what disadvantages and temptations you may be under. May God in his mercy grant that, however all past means have been unsuccessful, you may have future means which may have a new effect; and that the word of God, as it shall be hereafter dispensed to you, may prove as the fire and the hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces. However, let me now at parting exhort and beseech you not wholly to forget the warnings you have had while under my ministry. When you and I shall meet at the day of judgment, then you will remember 'em: the sight of me, your former minister, on that occasion, will soon revive 'em in your memory; and that in a very affecting manner. O don't let that be the first time that they are so revived. You and I are now parting one from another as to this world; let us labor that we mayn't be parted after our meeting at the last day. If I have been your faithful pastor (which will that day appear, whether I have or no), then I shall be acquitted, and shall ascend with Christ. O do your part, that in such a case it may not be so, that you should be forced eternally to part from me and all that have been faithful in Christ Jesus. This is a sorrowful parting that now is between you and me, but that would be a more sorrowful parting to you than this. This you may perhaps bear without being much affected with it, if you are not glad of it; but such a parting in that day will most deeply, sensibly and dreadfully affect you. III. I would address myself to those who are under some awakenings. Blessed be God that there are some such, and that (although I have reason to fear I leave multitudes in this large congregation in a Christless state) yet I do not leave them all in total stupidity and carelessness about their souls. Some of you that I have reason to hope are under some awakenings, have acquainted me with your circumstances; which has a tendency to cause me, now I am leaving you, to take my leave of you with peculiar concern for you. What will be the issue of your present exercise of mind I know not: but it will be known at that day, when you and I shall meet before the judgment seat of Christ. Therefore now be much in consideration of that day. Now I am parting with this flock, I would once more press upon you the counsels I have heretofore given, to take heed of being slighty in so great a concern, to be thorough and in good earnest in the affair, and to beware of backsliding, to hold on and hold out to the end. And cry mightily to God, that these great changes that pass over this church and congregation don't prove your overthrow. There is great temptation in them; and the devil will undoubtedly seek to make his advantage of them, if possible to cause your present convictions and endeavors to be abortive. You had need to double your diligence, and watch and pray, lest you be overcome by temptation. Whoever may hereafter stand related to you as your spiritual guide, my desire and prayer is, that the great Shepherd of the sheep would have a special respect to you, and be your guide (for there is none teacheth like him), and that he who is the infinite fountain of light would "open your eyes, and turn you from darkness unto light, and from the power of Satan unto God; that you may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them that are sanctified, through faith that is in Christ;" that so, in that great day, when I shall meet you again before your Judge and mine, we may meet in joyful and glorious circumstances, never to be separated any more. IV. I would apply myself to the young people of the congregation. Since I have been settled in the work of the ministry in this place I have ever had a peculiar concern for the souls of the young people, and a desire that religion might flourish among them: and have especially exerted myself in order to it; because I knew the special opportunity they had beyond others, and that ordinarily those whom God intended mercy for, were brought to fear and love him in their youth. And it has ever appeared to me a peculiarly amiable thing, to see young people walking in the ways of virtue and Christian piety, having their hearts purified and sweetened with a principle of divine love. And it has appeared a thing exceeding beautiful, and what would be much to the adorning and happiness of the town, if the young people could be persuaded when they meet together, to converse as Christians, and as the children of God; avoiding impurity, levity and extravagance; keeping strictly to the rules of virtue, and conversing together of the things of God and Christ and heaven. This is what I have longed for: and it has been exceeding grievous to me when I have heard of vice, vanity and disorder among our youth. And so far as I know my own heart, it was from hence that I formerly led this church to some measures for the suppressing of vice among our young people, which gave so great offence, and by which I became so obnoxious.° I have sought the good, and not the hurt of our young people. I have desired their truest honor and happiness, and not their reproach; knowing that true virtue and religion tended not only to the glory and felicity of young people in another world, but their greatest peace and prosperity, and highest dignity and honor, in this world; and above all things to sweeten and render pleasant and delightful even the days of youth. But whether I have loved you and sought your good more or less, yet God in his providence now calling me to part with you, committing your souls to him who once committed the pastoral care of them to me, nothing remains but only (as I am now taking my leave of you) earnestly to beseech you, from love to yourselves, if you have none to me, not to despise and forget the warnings and counsels I have so often given you; remembering the day when you and I must meet again before the great Judge of quick and dead; when it will appear whether the things I have taught you were true, whether the counsels I have given you were good, and whether I truly sought your good, and whether you have well improved my endeavors. I have, from time to time, earnestly warned you against frolicking (as it is called), and some other liberties commonly taken by young people in the land. And whatever some may say in justification of such liberties and customs, and may laugh at warnings against them, I now leave you my parting testimony against such things; not doubting but God will approve and confirm it in that day when we shall meet before him.° V. I would apply myself to the children of the congregation, the lambs of this flock, who have been so long under my care. I have just now said that I have had a peculiar concern for the young people; and in so saying I did not intend to exclude you. You are in youth, and in the most early youth: and therefore I have been sensible that if those that were young had a precious opportunity for their souls' good, you who are very young had, in many respects, a peculiarly precious opportunity. And accordingly I have not neglected you: I have endeavored to do the part of a faithful shepherd, in feeding the lambs as well as the sheep. Christ did once commit the care of your souls to me as your minister; and you know, dear children, how I have instructed you, and warned you from time to time; you know how I have often called you together for that end; and some of you, sometimes, have seemed to be affected with what I have said to you. But I am afraid it has had no saving effects as to many of you; but that you remain still in an unconverted condition, without any real saving work wrought in your souls, convincing you thoroughly of your sin and misery, causing you to see the great evil of sin, and to mourn for it, and hate it above all things, and giving you a sense of the excellency of the Lord Jesus Christ, bringing you with all your hearts to cleave to him as your Saviour, weaning your hearts from the world, and causing you to love God above all, and to delight in holiness more than in all the pleasant things of this earth; and so that I now leave you in a miserable condition, having no interest in Christ, and so under the awful displeasure and anger of God, and in danger of going down to the pit of eternal misery. But now I must bid you farewell: I must leave you in the hands of God; I can do no more for you than to pray for you. Only I desire you not to forget, but often think of the counsels and warnings I have given you, and the endeavors I have used, that your souls might be saved from everlasting destruction. Dear children, I leave you in an evil world, that is full of snares and temptations. God only knows what will become of you. This the Scripture hath told us, that there are but few saved; and we have abundant confirmation of it from what we see. This we see, that children die as well as others: multitudes die before they grow up; and of those that grow up, comparatively few ever give good evidence of saving conversion to God. I pray God to pity you, and take care of you, and provide for you the best means for the good of your souls; and that God himself would undertake for you to be your heavenly Father and the mighty Redeemer of your immortal souls. Do not neglect to pray for yourselves: take heed you ben't of the number of those who cast off fear and restrain prayer before God. Constantly pray to God in secret; and often remember that great day when you must appear before the judgment seat of Christ, and meet your minister there, who has so often counselled and warned you. I conclude with a few words of advice to all in general, in some particulars, which are of great importance in order to the welfare and prosperity of this church and congregation. 1. One thing that greatly concerns you, as you would be a happy people, is the maintaining of family order. We have had great disputes how the church ought to be regulated; and indeed the subject of these disputes was of great importance: but the due regulation of your families is of no less, and, in some respects, of much greater importance. Every Christian family ought to be as it were a little church, consecrated to Christ, and wholly influenced and governed by his rules. And family education and order are some of the chief of the means of grace. If these fail, all other means are like to prove ineffectual. If these are duly maintained, all the means of grace will be like to prosper and be successful. Let me now, therefore, once more, before I finally cease to speak to this congregation, repeat and earnestly press the counsel which I have often urged on heads of families here, while I was their pastor, to great painfulness in teaching, warning and directing their children; bringing them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; beginning early, where there is yet opportunity, and maintaining a constant diligence in labors of this kind; remembering that, as you would not have all your instructions and counsels ineffectual, there must be government as well as instructions, which must be maintained with an even hand and steady resolution, as a guard to the religion and morals of the family and the support of its good order. Take heed that it be not with any of you as with Eli of old, who reproved his children but restrained them not; and that, by this means, you don't bring the like curse on your families as he did on his. And let children obey their parents, and yield to their instructions, and submit to their orders, as they would inherit a blessing and not a curse. For we have reason to think, from many things in the word of God, that nothing has a greater tendency to bring a curse on persons in this world, and on all their temporal concerns, than an undutiful, unsubmissive, disorderly behavior in children towards their parents. 2. As you would seek the future prosperity of this society, it is of vast importance that you should avoid contention. A contentious people will be a miserable people. The contentions which have been among you, since I first became your pastor, have been one of the greatest burdens I have labored under in the course of my ministry: not only the contentions you have had with me, but those which you have had one with another about your lands and other concerns: because I knew that contention, heat of spirit, evil speaking, and things of the like nature, were directly contrary to the spirit of Christianity, and did, in a peculiar manner, tend to drive away God's Spirit from a people and to render all means of grace ineffectual, as well as to destroy a people's outward comfort and welfare. Let me therefore earnestly exhort you, as you would seek your own future good hereafter, to watch against a contentious spirit.° If you would see good days, seek peace, and ensue it, 1 Pet. iii. 10, 11. Let the contention which has lately been about the terms of Christian communion, as it has been the greatest of your contentions, so be the last of them. I would, now I am preaching my farewell sermon, say to you, as the Apostle to the Corinthians, 2 Cor. xiii. 11, 12: "Finally, brethren, farewell. Be perfect, be of one mind, live in peace; and the God of love and peace shall be with you." And here I would particularly advise those that have adhered to me in the late controversy, to watch over their spirits and avoid all bitterness towards others. Your temptations are, in some respects, the greatest; because what has been lately done is grievous to you. But however wrong you may think others have done, maintain, with great diligence and watchfulness, a Christian meekness and sedateness of spirit; and labor, in this respect, to excel others who are of the contrary part. And this will be the best victory: for "he that rules his spirit, is better than he that takes a city." Therefore let nothing be done through strife or vainglory. Indulge no revengeful spirit in any wise; but watch and pray against it; and, by all means in your power, seek the prosperity of the town: and never think you behave yourselves as becomes Christians, but when you sincerely, sensibly and fervently love all men, of whatever party or opinion, and whether friendly or unkind, just or injurious, to you or your friends, or to the cause and kingdom of Christ. 3. Another thing that vastly concerns the future prosperity of this town, is, that you should watch against the encroachments of error; and particularly Arminianism and doctrines of like tendency. You were, many of you, as I well remember, much alarmed with the apprehension of the danger of the prevailing of these corrupt principles near sixteen years ago. But the danger then was small in comparison of what appears now. These doctrines at this day are much more prevalent than they were then: the progress they have made in the land, within this seven years, seems to have been vastly greater than at any time in the like space before: and they are still prevailing and creeping into almost all parts of the land, threatening the utter ruin of the credit of those doctrines which are the peculiar glory of the gospel, and the interests of vital piety. And I have of late perceived some things among yourselves that show that you are far from being out of danger, but on the contrary remarkably exposed. The older people may perhaps think themselves sufficiently fortified against infection; but it is fit that all should beware of self-confidence and carnal security, and should remember those needful warnings of sacred writ, "Be not high-minded, but fear;" and "let him that stands, take heed lest he fall." But let the case of the older people be as it will, the rising generation are doubtless greatly exposed. These principles are exceeding taking with corrupt nature, and are what young people, at least such as have not their hearts established with grace, are easily led away with. And if these principles should greatly prevail in this town, as they very lately have done in another large town I could name, formerly greatly noted for religion, and so for a long time, it will threaten the spiritual and eternal ruin of this people in the present and future generations. Therefore you have need of the greatest and most diligent care and watchfulness with respect to this matter. 4. Another thing which I would advise to, that you may hereafter be a prosperous people, is, that you would give yourselves much to prayer. God is the fountain of all blessing and prosperity, and he will be sought to for his blessing. I would therefore advise you not only to be constant in secret and family prayer, and in the public worship of God in his house, but also often to assemble yourselves in private praying societies. I would advise all such as are grieved for the afflictions of Joseph, and sensibly affected with the calamities of this town, of whatever opinion they be with relation to the subject of our late controversy, often to meet together for prayer, and to cry to God for his mercy to themselves, and mercy to this town, and mercy to Zion and the people of God in general through the world. 5. The last article of advice I would give (which doubtless does greatly concern your prosperity), is, that you would take great care with regard to the settlement of a minister, to see to it who, or what manner of person he is that you settle; and particularly in these two respects: (1) That he be a man of thoroughly sound principles in the scheme of doctrine which he maintains. This you will stand in the greatest need of, especially at such a day of corruption as this is. And in order to obtain such a one, you had need to exercise extraordinary care and prudence. I know the danger. I know the manner of many young gentlemen of corrupt principles, their ways of concealing themselves, the fair, specious disguises they are wont to put on, by which they deceive others, to maintain their own credit, and get themselves into others' confidence and improvement, and secure and establish their own interest, until they see a convenient opportunity to begin more openly to broach and propagate their corrupt tenets. (2) Labor to obtain a man who has an established character, as a person of serious religion and fervent piety. It is of vast importance that those who are settled in this work should be men of true piety, at all times, and in all places; but more especially at some times, and in some towns and churches. And this present time, which is a time wherein religion is in danger, by so many corruptions in doctrine and practice, is in a peculiar manner a day wherein such ministers are necessary. Nothing else but sincere piety of heart is at all to be depended on, at such a time as this, as a security to a young man, just coming into the world, from the prevailing infection, or thoroughly to engage him in proper and successful endeavors to withstand and oppose the torrent of error and prejudice against the high, mysterious, evangelical doctrines of the religion of Jesus Christ, and their genuine effects in true experimental religion. And this place is a place that does peculiarly need such a minister, for reasons obvious to all. If you should happen to settle a minister who knows nothing truly of Christ and the way of salvation by him, nothing experimentally of the nature of vital religion; alas, how will you be exposed as sheep without a shepherd! Here is need of one in this place, who shall be eminently fit to stand in the gap and make up the hedge, and who shall be as the chariots of Israel and the horsemen thereof. You need one that shall stand as a champion in the cause of truth and the power of godliness. Having briefly mentioned these important articles of advice, nothing remains but that I now take my leave of you, and bid you all _farewell_; wishing and praying for your best prosperity. I would now commend your immortal souls to him, who formerly committed them to me, expecting the day, when I must meet you again before him, who is the Judge of quick and dead. I desire that I may never forget this people, who have been so long my special charge, and that I may never cease fervently to pray for your prosperity. May God bless you with a faithful pastor, one that is well acquainted with his mind and will, thoroughly warning sinners, wisely and skilfully searching professors, and conducting you in the way to eternal blessedness. May you have truly a burning and shining light set up in this candlestick; and may you, not only for a season, but during his whole life, and that a long life, be willing to rejoice in his light. And let me be remembered in the prayers of all God's people that are of a calm spirit, and are peaceable and faithful in Israel, of whatever opinion they may be with respect to terms of church communion. And let us all remember and never forget our future solemn meeting on that great day of the Lord; the day of infallible decision and of the everlasting and unalterable sentence. AMEN. NOTES GOD GLORIFIED IN MAN'S DEPENDENCE 1. =God Glorified.= The title-page of the original edition of this sermon, the first work published by the author, reads as follows: "God Glorified in the Work of Redemption by the Greatness of Man's Dependance upon Him, in the Whole of it. Preached on the Publick Lecture in Boston, July 8, 1731. And published at the Desire of several, Ministers and Others, in Boston, who heard it. By Jonathan Edwards A.M. Pastor of the Church of Christ in Northampton. Judges 7. 2.--Lest Israel vaunt themselves against me, saying, mine own hand hath saved me. Boston: Printed by S. Kneeland, and T. Green, for D. Henchman, at the Corner Shop on the South-side of the Town-House. 1731." The Public or Thursday Lecture, dating from the ordination of the Rev. John Cotton, in 1633, continued with occasional interruptions till the siege of 1775, later revived and existing, it is claimed, still, or until recently (see Dr. Samuel A. Eliot's Preface to _Pioneers of Religious Liberty in America_, Boston, 1903), was famous among the social and religious institutions of colonial Boston. At one time the General Court regularly adjourned for it; that the Governor should keep Christmas and neglect it, was regarded by old Judge Sewall as a matter of grave reproach. The preachers were selected from the most eminent divines, not only of Boston, but throughout the colony. It is recorded, for instance, of Solomon Stoddard, Edwards's grandfather and predecessor in the Northampton pastorate, that he annually attended the Harvard Commencement and the day after preached the Public Lecture. It was a great honor, therefore, for Edwards, a young man of twenty-seven, to be invited to preach on this foundation. He himself seems to have fully appreciated both the honor and the opportunity. The original manuscript shows the most careful preparation. In the statement of the Doctrine, for example, there are several erasures and corrections before the right formula is hit upon. The printed sermon shows still more elaboration. Edwards chose as his subject one aspect of a theme which was central and controlling in his thought--God's sovereignty. His mind had dwelt on this subject in all its bearings from childhood. He had especially meditated upon it as it related to the doctrine of decrees, a doctrine which he found at first revolting, but in the end "exceedingly pleasant, bright, and sweet." No one since Augustine has emphasized as he has done the absolute sovereignty of God and the corresponding dependence of man. This conception of God's arbitrary will--arbitrary, not as irrational or unrelated to the divine justice and benevolence, but as being "without restraint, or constraint, or obligation"--was not only the backbone of his system, but its heart, the principle which animates and pulses through the whole of it. It is the ultimate basis alike of his philosophy and of his religious faith. In this his first publication as in the great theological treatises which were his last, he is everywhere the prophet-like champion of this supreme idea in opposition to all those schemes of divinity, generally denominated Arminian, which implied in his view a degree of independence in man inconsistent with the absolute sovereignty he regarded as the distinguishing glory of God. The sermon created a profound impression, as is evident both from the immediate demand for its publication, indicated on the title-page, and from the commendatory preface to the original edition signed by two of the foremost ministers of Boston, the Rev. Thomas Prince, of the Old South Church, and the Rev. William Cooper, of the Brattle Street Church. "It was with no small difficulty," these gentlemen write, "that the author's youth and modesty were prevailed on, to let him appear a preacher in our public lecture, and afterwards to give us a copy of his discourse, at the desire of diverse ministers, and others who heard it. But, as we quickly found him to be a workman that need not be ashamed before his brethren, our satisfaction was the greater, to see him pitching upon so noble a subject, and treating it with so much strength and clearness, as the judicious will perceive in the following composure: a subject which secures to God his great design, in the work of fallen man's redemption by the Lord Jesus Christ, which is evidently so laid out, as that the glory of the whole should return to him the blessed ordainer, purchaser, and applier; a subject which enters deep into practical religion; without the belief in which, that must soon die in the hearts and lives of men. We cannot, therefore, but express our joy and thankfulness, that the great Head of the Church is pleased still to raise up, from among the children of his people, for the supply of his churches, those who assert and maintain these evangelical principles; and that our churches, notwithstanding all their degeneracies, have still a high value for just principles, and for those who publicly own and teach them. And, as we cannot but wish and pray, that the College in the neighbouring colony, as well as our own, may be a fruitful mother of many such sons as the author; so we heartily rejoice, in the special favour of Providence, in bestowing such a rich gift on the happy church of Northampton, which has, for so many lustres of years, flourished under the influence of such pious doctrines, taught them in the excellent ministry of their late venerable pastor, whose gift and spirit we hope will long live and shine in his grandson, to the end that they may abound in all the lovely fruits of evangelical humility and thankfulness, to the glory of God." 6. =It was of mere grace ... for our souls.= This passage may serve to illustrate the way Edwards expanded his sermons for the press (see Introduction, p. xxix). The manuscript reads as follows: "The Grace in giving this Gift was great in proportion to our unworthiness, it was given to us who instead of meriting that of G. which is of such Infinite Value merited Infinite Ill of him." Then follows a space, above and beneath which, between the lines, are the words, "in proportion to the blessedness we have benefit we have given in him." Continuing: "the giver in giving this gift is great according to the manner of giving. He gave him to us Incarnate he gave him to us slain that he might be a feast to our souls." THE REALITY OF SPIRITUAL LIGHT 21. =Divine and Supernatural Light.= The original title-page of this, the author's second published sermon, reads as follows: "A Divine and Supernatural Light, Immediately imparted to the Soul by the Spirit of God, shown to be both a Scriptural, and Rational Doctrine; In a Sermon Preach'd at Northampton, and Published at the Desire of some of the Hearers. By Jonathan Edwards, A.M. Pastor of the Church there. Job 28, 20. Whence then cometh wisdom? and where is the place of understanding? Prov. 2, 6. The Lord giveth wisdom. Is. 42, 18. Look ye blind, that ye may see. 2. Pet. 1, 19. Until the day dawn and the day-star arise in your hearts. Boston: Printed by S. Kneeland and T. Green, M,DCC,XXXIV." The sermon has a preface in which Edwards modestly disclaims any forwardness or vanity in publishing it and begs his readers to peruse it without prejudice on this score, or because of the unfashionableness of the subject. This to the general public. What he says to his own people shows how affectionate their relations to their young minister were at this time and how high his regard was for them; it has a pathetic interest in view of their passionate rejection of him at the last. "I have reason to bless God," he writes, "that there is a more happy union between us, than that you should be prejudiced against any thing of mine, because 'tis mine." He felicitates them on having been instructed in such doctrines as those in the sermon from the beginning. "And I rejoice in it," he adds, "that Providence, in this day of Corruption and Confusion, has cast my lot where such doctrines, that I look upon so much the life and glory of the Gospel, are not only own'd, but where there are so many, in whom the truth of them is so apparently manifest in their experience, that any one who has had the opportunity of acquaintance with them, in such matters, that I have had, must be very unreasonable to doubt of it." This is justly regarded as "one of the most beautiful and most eloquent" of Edwards's sermons (A. V. G. Allen, _Jonathan Edwards_, p. 67). It was preached at a time when the signs were multiplying of an increased interest in religion among the people of Northampton, preluding the great revival of the next and the following years. The original manuscript bears the date, August, 1733. The death of Mr. Stoddard in 1729 had removed the restraints of a long-established and unquestioned authority, and the results, as Edwards describes them, were deplorable. "It seemed," he says, "to be a time of extraordinary dullness in religion: licentiousness for some years greatly prevailed among the youth of the town; they were many of them very much addicted to night walking, and frequenting the tavern, and lewd practices, wherein some by their example exceedingly corrupted others." "But in two or three years ... there began to be a sensible amendment of these evils," and "at the latter end of the year 1733, there appeared a very unusual flexibleness and yielding to advice" in the young (_Narrative of Surprising Conversions_). The improved conditions reacted on the preacher and, as a consequence, we have the sermon on Spiritual Light. The principle enunciated in this sermon is the cardinal and controlling principle of the whole revival. The revival is just its exhibition and the experienced evidence, for Edwards at least, of its truth. Nothing in his account of the movement is more impressive than the way he studies it, tracing minutely the details of the process, wondering at its variety, whereby the Holy Spirit makes real and effectual the divine message (see Allen, _op. cit._ pp. 143 ff.). There was nothing essentially new in the principle itself; that God directly influences the soul, that the soul is capable of an immediate intuition of divine things, this had been the common teaching of all, and especially of all the Christian, mystics. Indeed, it may be doubted whether religion as a form of personal experience does not universally involve a consciousness of some such transcendent relationship (see W. James, _Varieties of Religious Experience_, Boston, 1902, _passim_). What was new in Edwards's formulation of the doctrine was his manner of defining it, the way in which he relates it to the other parts of his system, his insistence on the supernatural character of this divine illumination, his sharp distinction between common and special grace. His doctrine of supernatural light appears, in fact, as a necessary corollary of his conception of the relation of man and God in the work of redemption expressed in his sermon on Man's Dependence. It is partly, at least, from this point of view that it seems to him not only scriptural, but reasonable. It was a doctrine intimately connected with his views of conversion. It was on this account no less than because of its emphasis of a mystical rather than a moral or legal principle in religion, that Edwards can speak of the doctrine as "unfashionable." The tendency of the age was to find more power in the natural constitution of man than he was willing to allow. Historically, however, it is in just this emphasis on the inner experience of the light and life of God in the heart that Edwards makes the transition from the older Calvinism to the more liberal theology of our own day. The manuscript of this sermon is more than usually full of erasures and insertions, making it almost impossible to read, but suggesting something of the labor and care expended on its composition. It is written on twenty-six pages of the size of the facsimile in this volume, the last page containing only a line and a half. But the printed sermon is more fully elaborated. RUTH'S RESOLUTION 45. =Ruth's Resolution.= This sermon was one of five "Discourses on Various Important Subjects, Nearly concerning the great Affair of the Soul's Eternal Salvation: viz. I. Justification by Faith Alone. II. Pressing into the Kingdom of God. III. Ruth's Resolution. IV. The Justice of God in the Damnation of Sinners. V. The Excellency of Jesus Christ. Delivered in Northampton, chiefly in the time of the late wonderful pouring out of the Spirit of God there. By Jonathan Edwards A.M. Pastor of the Church of Christ in Northampton. Deut. iv. 8 [9]--Take heed to thyself, and keep thy soul diligently, lest thou forget the things which thine eyes have seen, and lest they depart from thy heart all the days of thy life. Boston: Printed and sold by S. Kneeland and T. Green, in Queen Street over against the Prison. MDCCXXXVIII." The first four of these discourses were preached during the revival of 1734-1735 and were selected by the desire of the people as those from which they had derived special benefit; the fifth was selected by Edwards himself at the request of some persons from a neighboring town who heard it, and because he thought that a sermon on the excellency of Christ might appropriately follow the others, which were of an awakening character. They were prefixed to the American reprint of the _Narrative of Surprising Conversions_, which was first published in England. The cost of their publication was defrayed by the congregation,--a clear evidence of their deep interest, as they were at the time heavily burdened by the expenses of the new meeting-house. See Dwight, _Life of Edwards_, pp. 140 f.; cf. n. here following, p. 162. The sermon on Ruth's Resolution has been selected as the shortest of the above discourses to illustrate a type of revival sermon in marked contrast to the sermon on Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. They all, however, bear out Edwards's own testimony concerning his preaching: "I have not only endeavored to awaken you, that you might be moved with fear, but I have used my utmost endeavors to win you" (Farewell Sermon). The manuscript of the sermon is dated April, 1735, and it seems to have been printed very nearly as it was written. THE MANY MANSIONS 59. =The Many Mansions.= The Ms. of this hitherto unpublished sermon is dated, "The Sabbath after the seating of the New Meeting House, Dec. 25, 1737." The occasion was one of special interest to the people of Northampton. The old meeting-house, erected in 1661, had become too small for the congregation and dangerously dilapidated; in fact, on a Sunday in March in the year the new building was completed, while Edwards was preaching, just after he had "laid down his doctrines" from the text, "Behold, ye despisers, wonder and perish," the front gallery, "with a noise like a clap of thunder," suddenly and dramatically fell. Fortunately--by a special providence, it seemed to Edwards--no one of the hundred and fifty persons, more or less, involved in the catastrophe perished, or even had a bone broken, and only ten were hurt "so as to make any great matter of it." But the event showed that the building of a new meeting-house had been undertaken none too soon. The question of this new building had been brought forward in the town meeting of the spring of 1733, but it was first decided on in November, 1735, determined in part, no doubt, by the great revival of that year, when sixty, eighty, and a hundred were received into the church on successive communions. It then took two years to complete the structure. Incidentally, sixty-nine gallons of rum, besides numerous barrels of "cyder" and beer, were consumed by the workmen during the erection of the framework alone. Sixty men were engaged at 5s. a day for this part of the work, "they keeping themselves"--as Deacon Hunt's journal has it--"excepting drinks." When the building, like several others of the period, a commodious, oblong structure with a tower, belfry and weather-cock vane at one end of it, was nearly finished, the important matter of seating the congregation was taken up. This also was an affair of the town. It had already been decided at the annual town meeting in the spring to have pews along the walls and "seats" or benches only on both sides of the "alley" (broad aisle). The actual plan of the sittings, still extant, shows pews also around the benches on the floor, separated from the wall-pews by the narrow aisles, and five pews in the gallery. These pews were of the high, square variety, with seats on hinges, and were evidently regarded as places of superior dignity. Towards the end of the year, the town held a series of meetings with especial reference to the seating. The question of primary importance concerned the apportioning of the sittings according to social rank. At the meeting in November, a committee of five of the most prominent citizens was instructed to draw up "their Scheam or Platt for Seating of the meeting House and present it to the Town" for approval. The following month the committee was further instructed by the following votes: "1. Voted That in Seating the new meeting House the committee have Respect principally to men's estate. "2. To have Regard to men's Age. "3. Voted that some Regard and Respect [be paid] to men's usefullness, but in a less Degree." And that no mistake should be made, a committee of six was appointed to "estimate the pews and seats," that is, to "dignify" or appraise their social value. Another connected question concerned the seating of the sexes. At the meeting in November, it was voted that males should be at the south, females at the north, end; the men at the right of the pulpit, the women at the left. At the first meeting in December the town distinctly refused to allow men and their wives to sit together. But this was clearly opposed to the sentiment of some of the more influential members of the community, for at the adjourned meeting four days later, when "The Question was put whether the Committee be forbidden to Seat men & their wives together, Especially Such as Incline to Sit together: It passed in the Negative." Under this indirect and qualified authorization, married people were for the most part seated together in the pews, but apart on the benches, while in some cases the husband was assigned to a pew and the wife to a bench. The events and conditions here described are reflected in Edwards's sermon, especially in what he says of the extent of the "accommodations" in heaven and in his remarks on the "seats of various dignity and different degrees and circumstances of honor and happiness" there, as compared with what we find in houses of worship on earth. As indicating the size of Edwards's Northampton congregation, it may be interesting to observe that the seating-plan above referred to contains the names of nearly six hundred persons. And he had his audience all about him. The pulpit, surmounted by a huge sounding board, was in the middle of one of the longer sides of the building, not at the end, as is the custom now. For further particulars, see J. R. Trumbull, _History of Northampton_, Vol. II, Chap. vi. This sermon is more fully written out than most of Edwards's unpublished sermons. In preparing the copy for the present volume, the editor had in mind the general analogy of the other sermons here published. The abbreviations--X (Christ), G. (God), F. H. (Father's House), etc.--have accordingly been interpreted, and omitted sentences or phrases, indicated in the Ms. by dashes or spaces, have been supplied from the context. All such additions, however, are inserted within square brackets. SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD 78. =Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.= The full title-page of this, Edwards's most famous sermon, read in the original edition as follows: "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. A sermon Preached at Enfield, July 8th 1741. At a time of great Awakenings; and attended with remarkable Impressions on many of the Hearers. By Jonathan Edwards A.M. Pastor of the Church of Christ in Northampton. Amos ix. 2, 3.--Though they dig into Hell, thence shall mine Hand take them; though they climb up to Heaven, thence will I bring them down. And though they hide themselves in the Top of Carmel, I will search and take them out thence; and though they be hid from my Sight in the Bottom of the Sea, thence will I command the Serpent, and he shall bite them. Boston: Printed and Sold by S. Kneeland and T. Green in Queen Street over against the Prison, 1741." Benjamin Trumbull in his _History of Connecticut_ (New Haven, 1818), Vol. II, p. 145, records the circumstances under which this sermon was delivered as told to him by Mr. Wheelock, a minister from Connecticut (Enfield, Conn., was at that time included in Hampshire County, Mass.), who heard it. "While the people in neighboring towns," writes Trumbull, "were in great distress for their souls, the inhabitants of that town were very secure, loose, and vain. A lecture had been appointed at Enfield, and the neighboring people, the night before, were so affected at the thoughtlessness of the inhabitants, and in such fear that God would, in his righteous judgment, pass them by, while the divine showers were falling all around them, as to be prostrate before him a considerable part of it, supplicating mercy for their souls. When the time appointed for the lecture came, a number of the neighboring ministers attended, and some from a distance. When they went into the meeting-house, the appearance of the assembly was thoughtless and vain. The people hardly conducted themselves with common decency. The Rev. Mr. Edwards, of Northampton, preached, and before the sermon was ended, the assembly appeared deeply impressed and bowed down, with an awful conviction of their sin and danger. There was such a breathing of distress and weeping, that the preacher was obliged to speak to the people and desire silence, that he might be heard. This was the beginning of the same great and prevailing concern in that place, with which the colony in general was visited." The circumstances, thus, under which this sermon was preached were exceptional; the excitement of the Great Awakening was at its height; the congregation to whom the sermon was addressed were notorious for their apathy; Edwards doubtless felt that an exceptionally strong presentation of their danger was necessary to arouse them. And this sermon is probably the most tremendous of its kind ever delivered by a Christian minister. The kind, however, was by no means exceptional in Edwards's preaching, particularly at this period. Believing as he did that the decisions of men in this life were fraught with the most momentous issues to all eternity, he held it his bounden duty to present these issues before them in the liveliest manner possible.[16] The Justice of God in the Damnation of Sinners; The Future Punishment of the Wicked Unavoidable and Intolerable; The Eternity of Hell Torments; When the Wicked shall have filled up the Measure of their Sin, Wrath will come upon them to the Uttermost; The End of the Wicked contemplated by the Righteous; or, The Torments of the Wicked in Hell, no occasion of grief to the Saints in Heaven; Wicked Men useful in their Destruction only,--these are among the titles of his sermons. Moreover, there is reason to believe that this very sermon, or its like, was used on other occasions besides the one to which it is explicitly ascribed. There is a tradition[17] that Edwards preached it once when Whitfield had disappointed an audience by not appearing, and that he produced a great effect by it. The manuscript is dated _June_, 1741, which suggests that it may have been preached in Northampton, or elsewhere, the month before it was attended with such remarkable impressions on the hearers in Enfield. But still more significant is the existence of an undated second sermon from the same text. In this, which was undoubtedly of earlier origin, the thought is somewhat differently worked out: it is less lurid, less fully elaborated, less terrific; but it contains many of the ideas, for example, on the uncertainty of life, the suddenness with which destruction may overtake the sinner, etc., that are found in the Enfield sermon. Edwards was evidently fascinated by the theme; he works it out with the sure touch of a great artist, with the intellectual force of the skilled dialectician. And he proclaims his message with the intensity of conviction of an Old Testament prophet. No wonder his hearers were moved. The effect would certainly have been less great had there been any note or personal vindictiveness in the preaching. But there is nothing of this; it is not in this sense that the sermon can be called "imprecatory." On the contrary, so far as Edwards's personal attitude is concerned, it is not difficult to detect in it the pathos and the pity of the gentlest of men weeping over the senseless folly of those who, blind to impending destruction, refuse repeated invitations of safety (cf. Matt. xxiii. 37). For the rest, he is quite impersonal, detached; the truth he preaches is sure, awful, but objective. On the modern reader the sermon is likely to produce a very painful impression, unless he, for his part, reads it in the same impersonal, detached way. It is not only the realism of the presentation, but the harshness of the doctrine, which offends. Edwards, for instance, frequently speaks of the reason why sinners are not immediately cast into hell; but the reason assigned is not the mercy or goodness or love of God, but His mere power and sovereign pleasure. This is one aspect of the truth of the spiritual universe as Edwards sees it. He is not a sentimentalist; he proclaims the truth as he finds it. As far as Edwards himself is concerned, there is nothing in the whole sermon, or in any of his "imprecatory" sermons, so called, half as revolting as Dante's attitude towards sinners in hell. Take, for instance, the case of Filippo Argenti in the Lake of Mud (_Inferno_, Canto viii.): "'Master, I should much like to see him ducked in this broth before we depart from the lake.' And he to me, 'Ere the shore allows thee to see it thou shalt be satisfied; it will be fitting that thou enjoy such a desire.' After this a little I saw such rending of him by the muddy folk that I still praise God therefor, and thank Him for it. All cried, 'At Filippo Argenti!' and the raging Florentine spirit turned upon himself with his teeth." 89. =The God that holds you ... drop down into hell.= This is probably the best remembered paragraph in this all too well remembered sermon. Comparison with the original manuscript shows some interesting variants from the printed text, and at the same time gives evidence of the deliberateness with which the sentences were wrought out with reference to their calculated effect. For both reasons the passage is here reproduced as written. "You are over the pit of hell in Gods hand very much as one holds a spider or some loathsome Insect over the fire & 'tis nothing but for God to let you go & you fall in." (Here follow four undecipherable lines, which apparently, however, do not belong in this connection. The passage then continues on the next page of the Ms.) "& this G. that thus holds you in his hand is very angry with you & dreadfully provoked. ____ his wrath burns like fire. ____ you are lothsome and hatefull in his eyes & and worthy to be burnt--he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else but to be cast into the fire you are ten thous. times more loathsome in his eyes than the most noisome insect in the eyes of us men ____ & you have offended him a thous. times so much as ever an obstinate rebel did his prince. ____ & yet you are in his hands & tis nothing at all but his mere pleasure that he keeps you from falling into hell every moment ____ there is no other reason to be given why you did not go to hell last night why you did not wake up in hell after you had closed your eyes to sleep & there is no other reason to be given why you have [not] drop'd since you rose in the morning ____ yea since you sit on here in the house of G. Provoking his pure Eyes by your sinfull wicked manner of attending his Holy worship ____ Yea there is nothing else to be given as the Reason why you don't this very moment drop down into hell." Between the sentences here separated by longer spaces, lines curving from the lower part of the preceding to the upper part of the following are drawn, indicating possibly rhetorical pauses in the delivery and suggesting to the modern reader a succession of waves, wave on wave of horror, each more overwhelming than the one that went before. The above passage is contained in the manuscript under division I. of the "Application," division II. beginning, "And consider here more particularly" (p. 89). The four divisions thereafter following correspond roughly to those in the printed edition, but are mere headings, and differ from the six divisions first sketched. Inserted in the manuscript is a loose sheet containing in Edwards's handwriting a careful outline of the whole sermon, such as he might have made when preparing the sermon for the press or used as notes for preaching. The manuscript of the entire sermon is short, but twenty-two pages of writing and one blank leaf. A STRONG ROD BROKEN 98. =God's Awful Judgment.= The manuscript of this sermon is dated, "On occasion of the death of Col. Stoddard June 1748." It consists of fifty-two pages of the usual size of Edwards's manuscript sermons, but with the unusual feature of being written in double columns. The paper used was partly that of letters addressed to Edwards, the writing being in places across the address, and the stamp marks being removed; partly--about twenty pages--pieces of fine, soft paper, deep cut around the upper edges, believed to be scraps of the paper used by Mrs. Edwards and her daughters in making fans. The sermon is evidently written at high pressure, with few corrections and fairly fully. The title-page of the first edition reads as follows: "A Strong Rod broken and withered. A Sermon Preached in Northampton, in the Lord's Day, June 26. 1748 On the Death of The Honourable John Stoddard, Esq. Often a Member of his Majesty's Council, For many Years Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas for the County of Hampshire, Judge of the Probate of Wills, and Chief Colonel of the Regiment, &c. Who died in Boston June 19. 1748. in the 67th Year of his Age. By Jonathan Edwards A.M. Pastor of the first Church in Northampton. Dan. iv. 35--He doth according to his Will in the Army of Heaven, and among the inhabitants of the Earth; and none can stay his Hand, or say unto Him, What dost thou? Boston Printed by Rogers and Fowle for J. Edwards in Cornhill 1748." Colonel Stoddard was the eighth child and fourth son of the Rev. Solomon Stoddard, and therefore Edwards's uncle on his mother's side. He was a man of great prominence in all the leading affairs of the town, the county, and the colony. "His life," says Trumbull (_History of Northampton_, Vol. II, p. 172), "was the connecting link between the two series of great leaders who controlled the affairs of Western Massachusetts for nearly a century and three-quarters. His predecessors were John Pynchon of Springfield and Samuel Partridge of Hatfield; following him came Joseph Hawley and Caleb Strong of Northampton, and these five men were the leaders in the Colony, the Province and the State." He was a stalwart upholder of royalty and the royal prerogative, and for this reason had many opponents; but the general esteem in which he was held is evidenced by his many offices and by the fact that he was seventeen times reëlected the representative of the county to the General Court. He was a valued friend of Governor Shirley, in connection with whom there is a characteristic story of him. It is that he once called and asked to see the Governor when the latter had a party dining with him, but declined the servant's invitation to come in. The company were surprised and shocked at what they regarded as an act of discourtesy to the chief magistrate. "What is the gentleman's name?" asked the Governor. "I think," replied the servant, "he told me his name was Stoddard." "Is it?" said the Governor. "Excuse me, gentlemen, if it is Col. Stoddard, I must go to him." (From _Dwight's Travels_, Vol. I, p. 332, quoted by Trumbull, _op. cit._ p. 173.) His death removed one of Edwards's strongest supporters and probably contributed to the tragic issue of the great controversy in which the preacher was now engaged. In this connection it is interesting to find that Colonel Stoddard in 1736 helped to lay out the township of Stockbridge and that he had much to do toward establishing the mission to the Indians there, to the conduct of which Edwards was called after his dismissal from Northampton. Edwards's sermon is an eulogy, but there is every reason to suppose that it gives on the whole a just impression of Stoddard's character, services, and attainments. On him, see further Trumbull, _op. cit._ Vol. II, Chap. xiii. 116. =Present war.= King George's French and Indian War (1744-1748-9). Colonel Stoddard, as commander of the Hampshire forces, directed the military operations in that part of the country until his death. Major Israel Williams of Hatfield, who later succeeded to the command, writing under date of June 25, 1748, to Secretary Willard, says: "We are now like sheep without a shepherd.... God has been pleased to take him (who was in a great measure our wisdom and strength and glory) from us at a time when we could least spare him." (Trumbull, _op. cit._ Vol. II, p. 158.) FAREWELL SERMON 118. =A Farewell Sermon.= "A Farewel-Sermon Preached at the first Precinct in Northampton, After the People's publick Rejection of their Minister, and renouncing their Relation to Him as Pastor of the Church there, On June 22. 1750 Occasion'd by Difference of Sentiments, concerning the requisite Qualifications of Members of the Church, in compleat Standing. By Jonathan Edwards, A.M. Acts xx. 18. Ye know, from the first day that I came into Asia, after what Manner I have been with you, at all Seasons. ver. 20. And how I kept back nothing that was profitable unto you, but have showed you, and have taught you publickly, and from House to House. ver. 26, 27. Wherefore I take you to Record this Day, that I am pure from the Blood of all Men: For I have not shunned to declare unto you all the Counsel of God. Gal. iv. 15, 16. Where is then the Blessedness ye spake of? For I bear you Record, that if it had been possible, ye would have plucked out your own Eyes, and have given them to me. Am I then become your Enemy, because I tell you the Truth? Boston Printed and sold by S. Kneeland over against the Prison in Queen-Street. 1751."--Title-page of the first edition. The preface to this sermon is a document so important for the understanding of it, that it is here, as is usual also in other editions, printed in full. _Preface._ It is not unlikely, that some of the readers of the following sermon may be inquisitive concerning the circumstances of the difference between me and the people of Northampton, that issued in that separation between me and them, which occasioned the preaching of this farewell sermon. There is, by no means, room here for a full account of that matter: but yet it seems to be proper, and even necessary, here to correct some gross misrepresentations, which have been abundantly, and ('tis to be feared) by some affectedly and industriously made, of that difference: such as, that I insisted on persons being assured of their being in a state of salvation, in order to my admitting them into the church; that I required a particular relation of the method and order of a person's inward experience, and of the time and manner of his conversion, as the test of his fitness for Christian communion; yea, that I have undertaken to set up a pure church, and to make an exact and certain distinction between saints and hypocrites, by a pretended infallible discerning [of] the state of men's souls; that in these things I had fallen in with those wild people, who have lately appeared in New England, called Separatists; and that I myself was become a grand Separatist; and that I arrogated all the power of judging of the qualifications of candidates for communion wholly to myself, and insisted on acting by my sole authority, in the admission of members into the church, &c. In opposition to these slanderous representations, I shall at present only give my reader an account of some things which I laid before the council, that separated between me and my people, in order to their having a just and full view of my principles relating to the affair in controversy. Long before the sitting of the council, my people had sent to the Reverend Mr. Clark of Salem village, desiring him to write in opposition to my principles. Which gave me occasion to write to Mr. Clark, that he might have true information what my principles were. And in the time of the sitting of the council, I did, for their information, make a public declaration of my principles before them and the church, in the meeting-house, of the same import with that in my letter to Mr. Clark, and very much in the same words: and then, afterwards, sent in to the council in writing, an extract of that letter, containing the information I had given to Mr. Clark, in the very words of my letter to him, that the council might read and consider it at their leisure, and have a more certain and satisfactory knowledge what my principles were. The extract which I sent in to them was in the following words: "I am often and I don't know but pretty generally, in the country, represented as of a new and odd opinion with respect to the terms of Christian communion, and as being for introducing a peculiar way of my own. Whereas I don't perceive that I differ at all from the scheme of Dr. Watts in his book entitled, _The Rational Foundation of a Christian Church, and the Terms of Christian Communion_; which, he says, is the common sentiment of all reformed churches. I had not seen this book of Dr. Watts' when I published what I have written on the subject. But yet I think my sentiments, as I have expressed them, are as exactly agreeable to what he lays down, as if I had been his pupil. Nor do I at all go beyond what Dr. Doddridge plainly shows to be his sentiments, in his _Rise and Progress of Religion_, and his _Sermons on Regeneration_, and his Paraphrase and Notes on the New Testament. Nor indeed, sir, when I consider the sentiments you have expressed in your letters to Major Pomroy and Mr. Billing, can I perceive but that they come exactly to the same thing that I maintain. You suppose the sacraments are not converting ordinances: but that, 'as seals of the covenant, they presuppose conversion, especially in the adult; and that it is visible saintship, or, in other words, a credible profession of faith and repentance, a solemn consent to the gospel covenant, joined with a good conversation, and competent measure of Christian knowledge, is what gives a gospel right to all sacred ordinances: but that it is necessary to those that come to these ordinances, and in those that profess a consent to the gospel covenant, that they be sincere in their profession,' or at least should think themselves so.--The great thing which I have scrupled in the established method of this church's proceeding, and which I dare no longer go on in, is their publicly assenting to the form of words rehearsed on occasion of their admission to the communion, without pretending thereby to mean any such thing as any hearty consent to the terms of the gospel covenant, or to mean any such faith or repentance as belong to the covenant of grace, and are the grand conditions of that covenant: it being, at the same time that the words are used, their known and established principle which they openly profess and proceed upon, that men may and ought to use these words and mean no such thing, but something else of a nature far inferior; which I think they have no distinct, determinate notion of; but something consistent with their knowing that they do not choose God as their chief good, but love the world more than him, and that they do not give themselves up entirely to God, but make reserves; and in short, knowing that they do not heartily consent to the gospel covenant, but live still under the reigning power of the love of the world, and enmity to God and Christ. So that the words of their public profession, according to their openly established use, cease to be of the nature of any profession of gospel faith and repentance, or any proper compliance with the covenant: for 'tis their profession, that the words, as used, mean no such thing. The words used under these circumstances, do at least fail of being a _credible_ profession of these things. I can conceive of no such virtue in a certain set of words, that it is proper, merely on the making of these sounds, to admit persons to Christian sacraments, without any regard to any pretended meaning of these sounds: nor can I think that any institution of Christ has established any such terms of admission into the Christian church. It does not belong to the controversy between me and my people, how particular or large the profession should be that is required. I should not choose to be confined to exact limits as to that matter; but rather than contend, I should content myself with a few words, briefly expressing the cardinal virtues or acts implied in a hearty compliance with the covenant, made (as should appear by inquiry into the person's doctrinal knowledge) understandingly; if there were an external conversation agreeable thereto: yea, I should think, that such a person, solemnly making such a profession, had a right to be received as the object of a public charity, however he himself might scruple his own conversion, on account of his not remembering the time, not knowing the method of his conversion, or finding so much remaining sin, &c. And (if his own scruples did not hinder his coming to the Lord's table) I should think the minister or church had no right to debar such a professor, though he should say he did not think himself converted; for I call that a profession of godliness, which is a profession of the great things wherein godliness consists, and not a profession of his own opinion of his good estate." Northampton, May 7, 1750. Thus far my Letter to Mr. Clark. The council having heard that I had made certain draughts of the covenant, or forms of a public profession of religion which I stood ready to accept of from the candidates for church communion, they, for their further information, sent for them. Accordingly I sent them four distinct draughts or forms, which I had drawn up about a twelvemonth before, as what I stood ready to accept of (any one of them) rather than contend and break with my people. The two shortest of these forms are here inserted for the satisfaction of the reader. They are as follows. "I hope I do truly find a heart to give up myself wholly to God, according to the tenor of that covenant of grace which was sealed in my baptism; and to walk in a way of that obedience to all the commandments of God, which the covenant of grace requires, as long as I live." Another, "I hope I truly find in my heart a willingness to comply with all the commandments of God, which require me to give up myself wholly to him, and to serve him with my body and my spirit. And do accordingly now promise to walk in a way of obedience to all the commandments of God, as long as I live." Such kind of professions as these I stood ready to accept, rather than contend and break with my people. Not but that I think it much more convenient, that ordinarily the public profession of religion that is made by Christians should be much fuller and more particular; and that (as I hinted in my letter to Mr. Clark) I should not choose to be tied up to any certain form of words, but to have liberty to vary the expressions of a public profession the more exactly to suit the sentiments and experience of the professor, that it might be a more just and free expression of what each one finds in his heart. And moreover it must be noted, that I ever insisted on it, that it belonged to me as a pastor, before a profession was accepted, to have full liberty to instruct the candidate in the meaning of the terms of it, and in the nature of the things proposed to be professed; and to inquire into his doctrinal understanding of these things, according to my best discretion; and to caution the person, as I should think needful, against rashness in making such a profession, or doing it mainly for the credit of himself or his family, or from any secular views whatsoever, and to put him on serious self-examination, and searching his own heart, and prayer to God to search and enlighten him that he may not be hypocritical and deceived in the profession he makes; withal pointing forth to him the many ways in which professors are liable to be deceived. Nor do I think it improper for a minister in such a case, to inquire and know of the candidate what can be remembered of the circumstances of his Christian experience; as this may tend much to illustrate his profession and give a minister great advantage for proper instructions: though a particular knowledge and remembrance of the time and method of the first conversion to God is not to be made the test of a person's sincerity, nor insisted on as necessary in order to his being received into full charity. Not that I think it at all improper or unprofitable, that in some special cases a declaration of the particular circumstances of a person's first awakening and the manner of his convictions, illuminations and comforts, should be publicly exhibited before the whole congregation, on occasion of his admission into the church; though this be not demanded as necessary to admission. I ever declared against insisting on a relation of experience, in this sense (viz., a relation of the particular time and steps of the operation of the Spirit in first conversion), as the term of communion: yet, if by a relation of experiences, he meant a declaration of experience of the great things _wrought_, wherein true grace and the essential acts and habits of holiness consist; in this sense, I think an account of a person's experiences necessary in order to his admission into full communion in the church. But that in whatever inquiries are made, and whatever accounts are given, neither minister nor church are to set up themselves as searchers of hearts, but are to accept the serious, solemn profession of the well instructed professor, of a good life, as best able to determine what he finds in his own heart. These things may serve in some measure to set right those of my readers who have been misled in their apprehensions of the state of the controversy between me and my people, by the forementioned misrepresentations. JONATHAN EDWARDS. 135. =But in all probability this will never be again.= It is sometimes asserted that Edwards never again occupied the pulpit in Northampton. This is not true. He preached, in fact, twelve Sundays, though, to be sure, not consecutively and only when other supplies could not be secured, before his removal to Stockbridge. There is perhaps more reason for the statement of Dr. Hopkins, quoted by Dwight (_op. cit._ p. 418), that the town at last--it is thought in November, 1750--voted that he should preach no longer. But the records of town and precinct are alike silent on this matter, the only vote bearing on it being one passed by the precinct in November, "to pay Mr. Edwards £10 old tenor per Sabbath for the time he preached here since he was dismissed." Trumbull, who has established this fact (_History of Northampton_, Vol. II, p. 227), says that the last sermon by Edwards in Northampton was in the afternoon of October 13, 1751, from the text Heb. xi. 16. But even this is doubtful; for among the manuscripts in New Haven, Professor Dexter discovered a sermon on 2 Cor. iv. 6 marked as preached in Northampton, May 1755, and in a book of plans of sermons at least three notes of texts and doctrines of the same period marked as designed for Northampton. (F. B. Dexter, _The Manuscripts of Jonathan Edwards_, p. 8.) 145. =By which I became so obnoxious.= The excitement of the Great Awakening was followed by a period of laxity. In 1744 Edwards was informed that a number of the young people of his congregation, of both sexes, were reading immoral books, which fostered lascivious and obscene conversation. To check the evil, he preached a sermon, of the frankness of which we may judge from the published sermon on "Joseph's Temptation," from Heb. xii. 15, 16, and after the service communicated to the brethren of the church the evidence in his possession with a view to further action. A committee of inquiry was appointed to assist the pastor in examining into the affair at a meeting at his house. Edwards then read the names of the young people to be summoned as witnesses or as accused, but without discriminating between the two classes. When the names were thus published, it was found that most of the leading families of the town were implicated. "The town was suddenly all on a blaze." Many of the heads of families refused to proceed with the investigation; many of the young people summoned to the meeting refused to come, and those who did come acted with insolence. Edwards never thereafter succeeded in reëstablishing his authority. For years not a single candidate appeared for admission to the church. See Hopkins, _Life of Edwards_ (1765), pp. 53 ff. Dwight, _op. cit._ pp. 299 f., copies Hopkins's account almost verbatim, but without acknowledgment. 146. =I have ... meet before him.= The company keeping and worldly amusements of the young people were an old grievance with Edwards. Writing of the period before the revival of 1734-1735, he says, "It was their manner very frequently to get together in conventions of both sexes, for mirth and jollity, which they called frolicks; and they would often spend the greater part of the night in them, without any regard to order in the families they belong to." How the young people amused themselves in these "conventions," we can only conjecture; it is certain that some, at least, of the parents saw no harm in them. But Edwards's idea of family government was very different. "He allowed not his children to be from home after nine o'clock at night, when they went abroad to see their friends and companions. Neither were they allowed to sit up much after that time, in his own house, when any came to make them a visit. If any gentleman desired acquaintance with his daughters, after handsomely introducing himself, by properly consulting the parents, he was allowed all proper opportunity for it: a room and fire, if needed; but must not intrude on the proper hours of rest and sleep, or the religion and order of the family." (Hopkins, _op. cit._ p. 44.) We have reason to think that some of the "other liberties commonly taken by young people in the land" were calculated to favor anything rather than refinement and spirituality. 149. =A contentious spirit.= History in a general way corroborates the following testimony of Edwards concerning the contentious spirit in the people of Northampton: "There were some mighty contests and controversies among them in Mr. Stoddard's day, which were managed with great heat and violence; some great quarrels in the church, wherein Mr. Stoddard, great as his authority was, knew not what to do with them. In one ecclesiastical controversy in Mr. Stoddard's day, wherein the church was divided into two parties, the heat of spirit was raised to such a degree, that it came to hard blows. A member of one party met the head of the opposite party and assaulted him and beat him unmercifully. There has been for forty or fifty years a sort of settled division of the people into two parties, somewhat like the Court and Country party in England (if I may compare small things with great). There have been some of the chief men in the town, of chief authority and wealth, that have been great proprietors of their lands, who have had one party with them. And the other party, which has commonly been the greatest, have been of those who have been jealous of them, apt to envy them, and afraid of their having too much power and influence in town and church. This has been a foundation of innumerable contentions among the people, from time to time, which have been exceedingly grievous to me, and by which doubtless God has been dreadfully provoked, and his Spirit grieved and quenched, and much confusion and many evil works have been introduced." Letter of July 1, 1751 to Rev. Thomas Gillespie. Cf. Trumbull, _History of Northampton_, Vol. II, p. 36. Footnotes: [1] See J. A. Stoughton, _Windsor Farmes_, p. 39 and p. 69 n. Students of heredity may perhaps here find a clew to the character of Edwards's brilliant, wayward grandson, Aaron Burr. [2] See H. N. Gardiner, _The Early Idealism of Edwards_ in Jonathan Edwards: a Retrospect, pp. 115-160: Boston, 1901. Cf. J. H. MacCracken, _The Sources of Jonathan Edwards's Idealism_, Philos. Rev., xi. 26 ff. (Jan. 1902). [3] That to the church at Bolton, Conn. But for some reason, not now apparent, he was never installed there. See S. Simpson, _Jonathan Edwards--a Historical Review_, Hartford Seminary Record. xiv. 11 (November, 1903). [4] First printed by Dwight, _Life of President Edwards_, p. 114, and frequently reproduced. It has been compared to Dante's description of Beatrice, which in pure lyric quality it certainly equals, though it lacks the latter's sensuous coloring and imaginative idealization. The comparison is made by A. V. G. Allen, _The Place of Edwards in History_, in Jonathan Edwards: a Retrospect, p. 7; the contrast is pointed out by John De Witt, Stockbridge (1903), Oration, p. 45 (pub. by the Berkshire Conference). [5] Solomon Clark, _Historical Catalogue of the Northampton First Church_, pp. 40-67 (Northampton, 1891), prints the list in full. [6] See note, p. 179. [7] It is impossible here to go into the history of this famous controversy. Something concerning it will be found in the notes, pp. 172 ff.; Dwight, _op. cit._, pp. 298-448, prints the documents from Edwards's Journal in full; the records of the church are silent. It should be stated, perhaps, in fairness to the Northampton people, that the pastoral relation was not then, as is sometimes supposed, regarded as indissoluble; six clergymen were "dismissed" from neighboring churches between 1721 and 1755. Moreover, Edwards, eminent as he undoubtedly was as a preacher, was to them only the parish minister; his great fame as a theologian was established later. Cf. Trumbull, _History of Northampton_, II, 225. It is also not unreasonable to suppose that the spiritual capacities of the people had been overstimulated. The later repentance of Joseph Hawley (see Dwight, _op. cit._, p. 421), Edwards's cousin, who had taken a leading part in the movement against him, concerns only the spirit of the opposition; it does not seriously question the wisdom, under the circumstances, of the separation. [8] Aaron Burr, the Vice-President of the United States, who killed Alexander Hamilton in a duel, was their son. [9] See, e.g., the incident recorded by Dwight, _op. cit._, p. 133, where the rapture lasts for about an hour, accompanied for the greater part of the time "with tears and weeping aloud." [10] See F. B. Dexter, _The Manuscripts of Jonathan Edwards_, p. 7. (Reprinted from the Proceedings of the Mass. Hist. Soc., March, 1901.) [11] As, e.g., in the great ethical sermon on the Sin of Theft and of Injustice from the text, "Thou shalt not steal." Works, Worcester reprint, IV, 601. [12] Examples of this are found in the manuscript sermons on John i. 47 and John i. 41, 42, which are here taken as typical. [13] Samuel Hopkins, _Life of Edwards_, p. 48. [14] As illustrating the expansion in the printed sermon as compared with the manuscript prepared for preaching, see note p. 157. [15] The next neighbor town. [16] "If I am in danger of going to hell, I should be glad to know as much as possibly I can of the dreadfulness of it. If I am very prone to neglect due care to avoid it, he does me the best kindness who does most to represent to me the truth of the case, that sets forth my misery and danger in the liveliest manner."--Sermon on The Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God. [17] As Professor A. V. G. Allen informs the editor in a letter, Jan. 23, 1904. Transcriber's Notes: Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. Passages in bold are indicated by =bold=. The original text includes several intentional blank spaces. These are represented by ____ in this text version. The misprint "dont" has been corrected to "don't" (page 169). 
44420	----	Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold (=bold=). Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. * * * * * [Illustration: cover] _The World's Great Sermons_ VOLUME V GUTHRIE TO MOZLEY THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS COMPILED BY GRENVILLE KLEISER Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in Public," Etc. With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other Theologians INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D. Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University IN TEN VOLUMES VOLUME V--GUTHRIE TO MOZLEY FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY NEW YORK and LONDON COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY _Printed in the United States of America_ CONTENTS VOLUME V GUTHRIE (1803-1873). _Page_ The New Heart 1 MAURICE (1805-1872). The Valley of Dry Bones 23 MARTINEAU (1805-1900). Parting Words 45 MANNING (1808-1892). The Triumph of the Church 61 PARK (1808-1900). The Prominence of the Atonement 87 SIMPSON (1810-1884). The Resurrection of Our Lord 119 THEODORE PARKER (1810-1860). The Transient and Permanent in Christianity 147 MACLEOD (1812-1872). The True Christian Ministry 177 MOZLEY (1813-1878). The Reversal of Human Judgment 205 GUTHRIE THE NEW HEART BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE THOMAS GUTHRIE, preacher, philanthropist, and social reformer, was born at Brechin, Forfarshire, Scotland, in 1803. He spent ten years at the University of Edinburgh and was licensed to preach by the Presbytery of Brechin in 1825. In 1830 he was ordained minister of Arbirlot. After a valuable experience in evangelical preaching among the farmers, weavers and peasants of his congregation, he became one of the ministers of Old Greyfriars Church, Edinburgh, in 1827. Lord Cockburn described his sermons in that city as appealing equally "to the poor woman on the steps of the pulpit" as to the "stranger attracted solely by his eloquence." He was a great temperance advocate, becoming a total abstainer in 1844, and has been styled "the apostle of the ragged school movement." Retiring from the active work of the ministry in 1864, he still remained in public life until he died in 1873. Through long practise, Dr. Guthrie delivered his memorized discourses as tho they fell spontaneously from his lips. His voice has been described as powerful and musical. He was fond of vivid illustration, and even on his death bed, as he lay dying in the arms of his sons, he exclaimed: "I am just as helpless in your arms now as you once were in mine." GUTHRIE 1803-1873 THE NEW HEART _A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you; and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh._--Ezekiel xxxvi., 26. As in a machine where the parts all fit each other, and, bathed in oil, move without din or discord, the most perfect harmony reigns throughout the kingdom of grace. Jesus Christ is the "wisdom," as well as the "power" of God; nor in this kingdom is anything found corresponding to the anomalies and incongruities of the world lying without. There we sometimes see a high station disgraced by a man of low habits; while others are doomed to an inferior condition, who would shine like gilded ornaments on the very pinnacles of society. That beautiful congruity in Christ's kingdom is secured by those who are the objects of saving mercy being so renewed and sanctified that their nature is in harmony with their position, and the man within corresponds to all without. Observe how this property of "new" runs through the whole economy of grace. When mercy first rose upon this world, an attribute of Divinity appeared which was new to the eyes of men and angels. Again, the Savior was born of a virgin; and He who came forth from a womb where no child had been previously conceived, was sepulchered in a tomb where no man had been previously interred. The infant had a new birthplace, the crucified had a new burial-place. Again, Jesus is the mediator of a new covenant, the author of a new testament, the founder of a new faith. Again, the redeemed receive a new name; they sing a new song; their home is not to be in the old, but in the new, Jerusalem, where they shall dwell on a new earth, and walk in glory beneath a new heaven. Now it were surely strange, when all things else are new, if they themselves were not to partake of this general renovation. Nor strange only, for such a change is indispensable. A new name without a new nature were an imposture. It were not more an untruth to call a lion a lamb, or the rapacious vulture by the name of the gentle dove, than to give the title of sons of God to the venomous seed of the serpent. Then, again, unless man received a new nature, how could he sing the new song? The raven, perched on the rock, where she whets her bloody beak, and impatiently watches the dying struggles of some unhappy lamb can not tune her croaking voice to the rich, mellow music of a thrush; and, since it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaketh, how could a sinner take up the strain and sing the song of saints? Besides, unless a man were a new creature, he were out of place in the new creation. In circumstances neither adapted to his nature, nor fitted to minister to his happiness, a sinner in heaven would find himself as much out of his element as a finny inhabitant of the deep, or a sightless burrower in the soil, beside an eagle, soaring in the sky, or surveying her wide domain from the mountain crag. In the works of God we see nothing more beautiful than the divine skill with which He suits His creatures to their condition. He gives wings to birds, fins to fishes, sails to the thistle-seed, a lamp to light the glowworm, great roots to moor the cedar, and to the aspiring ivy her thousand hands to climb the wall. Nor is the wisdom so conspicuous in nature, less remarkable and adorable in the kingdom of grace. He forms a holy people for a holy heaven--fits heaven for them, and them for heaven. And calling up His Son to prepare the mansions for their tenants, and sending down His Spirit to prepare the tenants for their mansions, He thus establishes a perfect harmony between the new creature and the new creation. You can not have two hearts beating in the same bosom, else you would be, not a man, but a monster. Therefore, the very first thing to be done, in order to make things new, is just to take that which is old out of the way. And the taking away of the old heart is, after all, but a preparatory process. It is a means, but not the end. For, strange as it may at first sound, he is not religious who is without sin. A dead man is without sin; and he is sinless, who lies buried in dreamless slumber, so long as his eyes are sealed. Now, God requires more than a negative religion. Piety, like fire, light, electricity, magnetism, is an active, not a passive element; it has a positive, not merely a negative existence. For how is pure and undefiled religion defined? "Pure religion and undefiled is to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction." And on whom does Jesus pronounce His beatitude? "If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them." And what is the sum of practical piety--the most portable form in which you can put an answer to Saul's question, "Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do?" What but this, "Depart from evil, and do good." Therefore, while God promises to take the stony heart out of our flesh, He promises more. In taking away one heart, He engages to supply us with another; and to this further change and onward stage in the process of redemption, I now proceed to turn your attention. By way of general observation, I remark that our affections are engaged in religion. An oak--not as it stands choked up in the crowded wood, with room neither to spread nor breathe, but as it stands in the open field, swelling out below where it anchors its roots in the ground, and swelling out above where it stretches its arms into the air,--presents us with the most perfect form of firmness, self-support, stout and sturdy independence. So perfectly formed, indeed, is the monarch of the forest to stand alone, and fight its own battles with the elements, that the architect of the Bell Rock lighthouse is said to have borrowed his idea of its form from God in nature, and that, copying the work of a divine Architect, he took the trunk of the oak as the model of a building which was to stand the blast of the storm, and the swell of the winter seas. Observe, that although the state of the natural affections does not furnish any certain evidence of conversion, it is the glory of piety that these are strengthened, elevated, sanctified by the change. The lover of God will be the kindest, best, wisest lover of his fellow-creatures. The heart that has room in it for God, grows so large, that it finds room for all God's train, for all that He loves, and for all that He has made; so that the Church, with all its denominations of true Christians, the world, with all its perishing sinners, nay, all the worlds which He has created, find orbit-room to move, as in an expansive universe, within the capacious enlargement of a believer's heart. For while the love of sin acts as an astringent--contracting the dimensions of the natural heart, shutting and shriveling it up--the love of God expands and enlarges its capacity. Piety quickens the pulse of love, warms and strengthens our heart, and sends forth fuller streams of natural affection toward all that have a claim on us, just as a strong and healthy heart sends tides of blood along the elastic arteries to every extremity of the body. This new heart, however, mainly consists in a change of the affections as they regard spiritual objects. Without again traveling over ground which we have already surveyed, just look at the heart and feelings of an unconverted man. His mind being carnal, is enmity or hatred against God. This may be latent, not at first sight apparent, nor suspected, but how soon does it appear when put to the proof? Fairly tried, it comes out like those unseen elements which chemical tests reveal. Let God, for instance, by His providences or laws, thwart the wishes or cross the propensities of our unrenewed nature--let there be a collision between His will and ours--and the latent enmity flashes out like latent fire when the cold black flint is struck with steel. In conversion God gives a new spirit. Conversion does not bestow new faculties. It does not turn a weak man into a philosopher. Yet, along with our affections, the temper, the will, the judgment partake of this great and holy change. Thus, while the heart ceases to be dead, the head, illuminated by a light within, ceases to be dark; the understanding is enlightened; the will is renewed; and our whole temper is sweetened and sanctified by the Spirit of God. To consider these in their order, I remark-- By this change the understanding and judgment are enlightened. Sin is the greatest folly, and the sinner the greatest fool in the world. There is no such madness in the most fitful lunacy. Think of a man risking eternity and his everlasting happiness on the uncertain chance of surviving another year. Think of a man purchasing a momentary pleasure at the cost of endless pain. Think of a dying man living as if he were never to die. Is there a convert to God who looks back upon his unconverted state, and does not say with David, "Lord, I was as a beast before Thee." Now conversion not only restores God to the heart, but reason also to her throne. Time and eternity are now seen in their just proportions--in their right relative dimensions; the one in its littleness, and the other in its greatness. When the light of heaven rises on the soul, what grand discoveries does she make--of the exceeding evil of sin, of the holiness of the divine law, of the infinite purity of divine justice, of the grace and greatness of divine love. On Sinai's summit and on Calvary's cross, what new, sublime, affecting scenes open on her astonished eyes! She now, as by one convulsive bound, leaps to the conclusion that salvation is the one thing needful, and that if a man will give all he hath for the life that now is, much more should he part with all for the life to come. The Savior and Satan, the soul and body, holiness and sin, have competing claims. Between these reason now holds the balance even, and man finds, in the visit of converting grace, what the demoniac found in Jesus' advent. The man whose dwelling was among the tombs, whom no chains could bind, is seated at the feet of Jesus, "clothed, and in his right mind." By this change the will is renewed. Bad men are worse, and good men are better than they appear. In conversion the will is so changed and sanctified, that altho a pious man is in some respects less, in other respects he is more holy than the world gives him credit for. The attainments of a believer are always beneath his aims; his desires are nobler than his deeds; his wishes are holier than his works. Give other men their will, full swing to their passions, and they would be worse than they are; give that to him, and he would be better than he is. And if you have experienced the gracious change, it will be your daily grief that you are not what you not only know you should be, but what you wish to be. To be complaining with Paul, "When I would do good, evil is present with me; that which I would I do not, and what I would not, that I do," is one of the best evidences of a gracious, saving change. Children of God! let not your souls be cast down. This struggle between the new will and the old man--painful and prolonged altho it be--proves beyond all doubt the advent of the Holy Spirit. Until the Savior appeared there was no sword drawn, nor blood shed in Bethlehem, nor murderous decree issued against its innocents--they slept safely in their mothers' bosoms, Herod enjoyed his security and pleasure, and Rachel rose not from her grave to weep for her children because they were not. Christ's coming rouses all the devil in the soul. The fruits of holy peace are reaped with swords on the fields of war; and this struggle within your breast proves that grace, even in its infancy a cradled Savior, is engaged in strangling the old Serpent. When the shadow of calamity falls on many homes, and the tidings of victory come with sad news to many a family, and the brave are lying thick in the deadly breach, men comfort us by saying, that there are things worse than war. That is emphatically true of this holy war. Rejoice that the peace of death is gone. By conversion the temper and disposition are changed and sanctified. Christians are occasionally to be found with a tone of mind and a temper as little calculated to recommend their faith as to promote their happiness. I believe that there are cases in which this is due to a deranged condition of the nervous system, or the presence of disease in some other vital organ. These unhappy persons are more deserving of our pity than our censure. This is not only the judgment of Christian charity, but of sound philosophy, and is a conclusion to which we are conducted in studying the union between mind and body, and the manner in which they act and re-act upon each other. So long as grace dwells in a "vile body," which is the seat of frequent disorder and many diseases--these infirmities of temper admit no more, perhaps, of being entirely removed, than a defect of speech, or any physical deformity. The good temper for which some take credit may be the result of good health and a well-developed frame--a physical more than a moral virtue; and an ill temper, springing from bad health, or an imperfect organization, may be a physical rather than a moral defect--giving its victim a claim on our charity and forbearance. But, admitting this apology for the unhappy tone and temper of some pious men, the true Christian will bitterly bewail his defect, and, regretting his infirmity more than others do a deformity, he will carefully guard and earnestly pray against it. Considering it as a thorn in his flesh, a messenger of Satan sent to buffet him, it will often send him to his knees in prayer to God, that the grace which conquers nature may be made "sufficient for him." I pray you to cultivate the temper that was in Jesus Christ. Is he like a follower of the Lamb who is raging like a roaring lion? Is he like a pardoned criminal who sits moping with a cloud upon his brow? Is he like an heir of heaven, like a man destined to a crown, who is vexed and fretted with some petty loss? Is he like one in whose bosom the dove of heaven is nestling, who is full of all manner of bile and bitterness? Oh, let the same mind be in you that was in Jesus. A kind, catholic, gentle, loving temper is one of the most winning features of religion; and by its silent and softening influence you will do more real service to Christianity than by the loudest professions, or the exhibition of a cold and skeleton orthodoxy. Let it appear in you, that it is with the believer under the influence of the Spirit as with fruit ripened beneath the genial influences of heaven's dews and sunbeams. At first hard, it grows soft; at first sour, it becomes sweet; at first green, it assumes in time a rich and mellow color; at first adhering tenaciously to the tree, when it becomes ripe, it is ready to drop at the slightest touch. So with the man who is ripening for heaven. His affections and temper grow sweet, soft, mellow, loose from earth and earthly things. He comes away readily to the hand of death, and leaves the world without a wrench. In conversion God gives a heart of flesh. "I will give you a heart of flesh." Near by a stone, a mass of rock that had fallen from the overhanging crag, which had some wild flowers growing in its fissures, and on its top the foxglove, with its spike of beautiful but deadly flowers, we once came upon an adder as it lay in ribbon coil, basking on the sunny ground. At our approach the reptile stirred, uncoiled itself, and raising its venomous head, with eyes like burning coals, it shook its cloven tongue, and, hissing, gave signs of battle. Attacked, it retreated; and, making for that gray stone, wormed itself into a hole in its side. Its nest and home were there. And in looking on that shattered rock--fallen from its primeval elevation--with its flowery but fatal charms, the home and nest of the adder, where nothing grew but poisoned beauty, and nothing dwelt but a poisoned brood, it seemed to us an emblem of that heart which the text describes as a stone, which experience proves is a habitation of devils, and which the prophet pronounces to be desperately wicked. I have already explained why the heart is described as a stone. It is cold as a stone; hard as a stone; dead and insensible as a stone. Now, as by the term "flesh" we understand qualities the very opposite of these, I therefore remark that-- In conversion a man gets a warm heart. Let us restrict ourselves to a single example. When faith receives the Savior, how does the heart warm to Jesus Christ! There is music in His name. "His name is an ointment poured forth." All the old indifference to His cause, His people, and the interests of His kingdom, has passed away; and now these have the warmest place in a believer's bosom, and are the object of its strongest and tenderest affections. The only place, alas! that religion has in the hearts of many is a burial-place; but the believer can say with Paul, "Christ liveth in me." Nor is his heart like the cottage of Bethany, favored only with occasional visits. Jesus abides there in the double character of guest and master, its most loving and best loved inmate; and there is a difference as great between that heart as it is, and that heart as it was, as between the warm bosom where the Infant slept or smiled in Mary's arms and the dark, cold sepulcher where weeping followers laid and left the Crucified. Is there such a heart in you? Do you appreciate Christ's matchless excellences? Having cast away every sin to embrace him, do you set him above your chiefest joy? Would you leave father, mother, wife, children, to follow Him, with bleeding feet, over life's roughest path? Rather than part with Him, would you part with a thousand worlds? Were He now on earth, would you leave a throne to stoop and tie His latchet? If I might so speak, would you be proud to carry His shoes? Then, indeed, you have got the new, warm heart of flesh. The new love of Christ, and the old love of the world, may still meet in opposing currents; but in the war and strife of these antagonistic principles, the celestial shall overpower the terrestrial, as, at the river's mouth, I have seen the ocean tide, when it came rolling in with a thousand billows at its back, fill all the channel, carry all before its conquering swell, dam up the fresh water of the land, and drive it back with resistless power. In conversion a man gets a soft heart. As "flesh," it is soft and sensitive. It is flesh, and can be wounded or healed. It is flesh, and feels alike the kiss of kindness and the rod of correction. It is flesh; and no longer a stone, hard, obdurate, impenetrable to the genial influences of heaven. A hard block of ice, it has yielded to the beams of the sun, and been melted into flowing water. How are you moved now, stirred now, quickened now, sanctified now, by truths once felt no more than dews falling out of starry heavens, in soft silence upon rugged rock. The heart of grace is endowed with a delicate sensibility, and vibrates to the slightest touch of a Savior's fingers. How does the truth of God affect it now! A stone no longer, it melts under the heavenly fire--a stone no longer, it bends beneath the hammer of the word; no longer like the rugged rock, on which rains and sunbeams were wasted, it receives the impression of God's power, and retains the footprints of His presence. Like the flowers that close their eyes at night, but waken at the voice of morning, like the earth that gapes in summer drought, the new heart opens to receive the bounties of grace and the gifts of heaven. Have you experienced such a change? In proof and evidence of its reality, is David's language yours--"I have stretched out my hands unto thee. My soul thirsteth after thee as a thirsty land"? In conversion a man gets a living heart. The perfection of this life is death--it is dead to be sin, but alive to righteousness, alive to Christ, alive to everything which touches His honor, and crown, and kingdom. With Christ living in his heart, the believer feels that now he is not himself, not his own; and, as another's, the grand object of his life is to live to Christ. He reckons him an object worth living for, had he a thousand lives to live; worth dying for, had he a thousand deaths to die. He says with Paul, "I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live." In the highest sense alive, he is dead, dead to things he was once alive to; and he wishes that he were more dead to them, thoroughly dead. He wishes that he could look on the seductions of the world, and sin's voluptuous charms, with the cold, unmoved stare of death, and that these had no more power to kindle a desire in him than in the icy bosom of a corpse. "Understandest thou what thou readest?" It is a mark of grace that the believer, in his progress heavenward, grows more and more alive to the claims of Jesus. If you "know the love of Christ," His is the latest name you will desire to utter; His is the latest thought you will desire to form; upon Him you will fix your last look on earth; upon Him your first in heaven. When memory is oblivious of all other objects--when all that attracted the natural eye is wrapt in the mists of death, when the tongue is cleaving to the roof of our mouth, and speech is gone, and sight is gone, and hearing gone, and the right hand, lying powerless by our side, has lost its cunning, Jesus! then may we remember Thee! If the shadows of death are to be thrown in deepest darkness on the valley, when we are passing along it to glory, may it be ours to die like that saint, beside whose bed wife and children once stood, weeping over the wreck of faded faculties, and a blank, departed memory. One had asked him, "Father, do you remember me?" and received no answer; and another, and another, but still no answer. And then, all making way for the venerable companion of a long and loving pilgrimage--the tender partner of many a past joy and sorrow, his wife draws near. She bends over him, and as her tears fall thick upon his face, she cries, "Do you not remember me?" A stare, but it is vacant. There is no soul in that filmy eye; and the seal of death lies upon these lips. The sun is down, and life's brief twilight is darkening fast into a starless night. At this moment, one calm enough to remember how the love of Christ's spouse is "strong as death," a love that "many waters can not quench," stooped to his ear, and said, "Do you remember Jesus Christ?" The word was no sooner uttered than it seemed to recall the spirit, hovering for a moment, ere it took wing to heaven. Touched as by an electric influence, the heart beat once more to the name of Jesus; the features, fixt in death, relax; the countenance, dark in death, flushes up like the last gleam of day; and, with a smile in which the soul passed away to glory, he replied, "Remember Jesus Christ! dear Jesus Christ! He is all my salvation, and all my desire." By conversion man is ennobled. While infidelity regards man as a mere animal, to be dissolved at death into ashes and air, and vice changes man into a brute or devil, Mammon enslaves him. She makes him a serf, and condemns him to be a gold-digger for life in the mines. She puts her collar on his neck, and locks it; and bending his head to the soil, and bathing his brow in sweat, she says, Toil, toil, toil; as if this creature, originally made in the image of God, this dethroned and exiled monarch, to save whom the Son of God descended from the skies, and bled on Calvary, were a living machine, constructed of sinew, bone, and muscle, and made for no higher end than to work to live, and live to work. Contrast with these the benign aspect in which the gospel looks on man. Religion descends from heaven to break our chains. She alone raises me from degradation, and bids me lift my drooping head, and look up to heaven. Yes; it is that very gospel which by some is supposed to present such dark, degrading, gloomy views of man and his destiny, which lifts me from the dust to set me among princes--on a level with angels--in a sense above them. To say nothing of the divine nobility grace imparts to a soul which is stamped anew with the likeness and image of God, how sacred and venerable does even this body appear in the eye of piety! No longer a form of animated dust; no longer the subject of passions shared in common with the brutes; no longer the drudge and slave of Mammon, the once "vile body" rises into a temple of the Holy Ghost. Vile in one sense it may be; yet what, although it be covered with sores? What, although it be clothed in rags? What, although, in unseemly decrepitude, it want its fair proportions? That poor, sickly, shattered form is the casket of a precious jewel. This mean and crumbling tabernacle lodges a guest nobler than palaces may boast of; angels hover around its walls; the Spirit of God dwells within it. What an incentive to holiness, to purity of life and conduct, lies in the fact that the body of a saint is the temple of God, a truer, nobler temple than that which Solomon dedicated by his prayers, and Jesus consecrated His presence! In popish cathedrals, where the light streamed through painted window, and the organ pealed along lofty aisles, and candles gleamed on golden cups and silver crosses, and incense floated in fragrant clouds, we have seen the blinded worshiper uncover his head, drop reverently on his knees, and raise his awestruck eye on the imposing spectacle; we have seen him kiss the marble floor, and knew that sooner would he be smitten dead upon that floor than be guilty of defiling it. How does this devotee rebuke us! We wonder at his superstition; how may he wonder at our profanity! Can we look on the lowly veneration he expresses for an edifice which has been erected by some dead man's genius, which holds but some image of a deified virgin, or bones of a canonized saint, and which, proudly as it raises its cathedral towers, time shall one day cast to the ground, and bury in the dust; can we, I say, look on that, and, if sensible to rebuke, not feel reproved by the spectacle? In how much more respect, in how much holier veneration should we hold this body? The shrine of immortality, and a temple dedicated to the Son of God, it is consecrated by the presence of the Spirit--a living temple, over whose porch the eye of piety reads what the finger of inspiration has written: "If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy; for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye are." MAURICE THE VALLEY OF DRY BONES BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE FREDERICK DENISON MAURICE, English divine and author, was born in 1805. He was the son of a Unitarian clergyman, and after studying in Cambridge began a literary career in London, where his friend Coleridge and others persuaded him to take orders in the Church of England. In 1836 he was appointed chaplain to Guy's Hospital. In 1840 he was elected professor of English literature and history and in 1846 of divinity at King's College, London, but lost both positions in 1853 because of his radical views. He was professor of moral philosophy at Cambridge from 1860 until his death in 1872. MAURICE 1805-1872 THE VALLEY OF DRY BONES _The hand of the Lord was upon me, and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley which was full of bones, and caused me to pass by them round about. And behold there were very many in the open valley, and lo, they were very dry. And he said unto me, "Son of man, can these bones live?" And I answered, "O Lord God, thou knowest."_--EZEK. xxxvii., 1-3. We are naturally curious to know whether two contemporary prophets ever conversed with each other. In Micah we found such evident indications of sympathy with the mind of Isaiah as warranted the supposition that he was his pupil. I can not trace any signs of a similar relation, or indeed of any personal relation, between Jeremiah and Ezekiel. Tho they were passing through the same crisis; tho they had both to witness the evils which were destroying their nation; both to share its miseries; tho the false prophets were the common enemies of both; yet their circumstances, their character, and their work were entirely distinct, in some points even contrasted. Their very differences, however, show us that they were both alike prophets and priests. The Book of Lamentations exhibits the spirit of the individual man Jeremiah more transparently than his longer book, which is so mixed up with historical details, with anticipations of a ruin not yet accomplished, with hopes, however faint and soon dispelled, of a national repentance. Most of those whom the prophet had denounced were banished or dead. Men could talk no more about the temple of the Lord, could boast no more that the word of the Lord was with them; the vessel which the potter was shaping had been broken to pieces. The sadness of the prophet, which had been checked sometimes by indignation, sometimes by the consciousness of a word which must still be spoken, of a work which must be done, became complete and absorbing. Heretofore his intense sympathy with his country might seem to be qualified by his lively apprehension of its crimes; now both feelings were blended into one. When he looked upon the desolation of the city there sat upon his soul a weight of sorrow and evil, as if he were representing his whole people, as if there was no wrong which they had committed, no evil habits which they had contracted, which did not cling to him, for which he was not responsible. And this was no imaginary fictitious state of mind into which he had worked himself. God had made him inwardly conscious of the very corruptions which had destroyed the land. If he had made any fight against them; if they did not actually overpower him and enslave him, this was God's work and not his; the promise of the covenant made with his fathers, which was as good for every one as for himself, was fulfilled to him. And now he was realizing the full effect of this discipline. The third chapter of the Lamentations, beginning "I am the man that hath seen affliction by the rod of His wrath," contains the climax of his experience. In the memorable passages which follow, the history of a life is gathered up. "I said, My strength and my hope is perished from the Lord; remembering mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall. My soul hath them still in remembrance. This I recall to mind, therefore have I hope. It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed. They are new every morning; great is thy faithlessness. The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him. The Lord is good unto them that wait for him. It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord. It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth. He sitteth alone and keepeth silence, because he hath borne it upon him. He putteth his mouth in the dust if so be there may be hope. He giveth his cheek to him that smiteth him, he is filled full with reproach. The Lord will not cast off for ever; but tho he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies for he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men." Anything more individual than these utterances it is impossible to conceive; and yet it is just by these that one understands the sacerdotal work to which Jeremiah was called. There was no longer any temple. The priests as well as the princes had been for the most part carried away by Nebuchadnezzar. But there was a man walking about in the deserted city to which the twelve tribes had come up,--in the midst of the ruins of the holy place into which the sons of Aaron had gone with the memorial of their names on their breastplates,--who really entered into the meaning of that function, who really bore the iniquities of the children of Israel before the Lord;--one to whom it was given to translate the ceremonies and services of the divine house into life and reality. He had been taught more perfectly, perhaps, than anyone who had served in the temple, what was implied in its worship and sacrifices. He felt the burden to which those sacrifices pointed, the burden of individual and national sins. Yet, with that burden resting upon him, he could enter into the presence of the Holy One of Israel. He was sure there was a deliverance for his people as well as for himself; that there could not be one for him if there was not also one for them. Thus when part of his work was over, when he had nothing more to say in the ears of kings or priests or people, this office,--which had been so closely connected with his prophetical office, and which, if it had depended upon outward conditions, must have been more entirely at an end than that,--still remained in all its original power. And the words of the prophet remained to explain to all generations the spiritual character and acts of the priest. The office of the priest must have seemed to be more utterly extinct for Ezekiel than even for Jeremiah. He was forcibly removed from all the associations of the temple while it was yet standing. When he was called to be a prophet to the captives by the river Chebar, he might have supposed that the earlier designation which belonged to him as one of the Levitical family, had been extinguished in the later one. Yet we have seen how he was instructed, at the very commencement of his work as a prophet, that the glory of Him who filled the temple was surrounding him in Mesopotamia as it surrounded him when he went up to present the morning or the evening sacrifice in Jerusalem. Such a vision was given him of that glory as he had never beheld in the holy place. He found that the earth,--that common, profane, Babylonian earth upon which he dwelt,--was filled with it. All the powers of nature, the forms of animals, man as the highest of the animals, the motions and order of the outward world and of human society, were pointing towards it. And the central object, the highest object which he could behold, tho there was an ineffable brightness beyond, was a Man upon a throne, One who could command him, in whose name he was to go forth, whose words he was to speak. This was no isolated revelation or dream. The very name which the prophet thenceforth bore, the name by which he was to know himself, depended upon it. "Son of man, stand upon thy feet and I will speak unto thee," were the first words which he heard after he fell upon his face. That great title is bestowed upon him through all the time in which he was prophesying. It was in many ways more suitable to him than to those who had gone before him. There was now no Hezekiah or Josiah to represent the Divine king. The witnesses for the kingdom seemed to be at an end. Nebuchadnezzar was the lord of the earth. At such a time the natural position of the Jewish seer became a human position. The Israelite's glory was to be a "Son of man." Yet he was not absolved from any of the obligations of the older prophets; he was not to expect a more willing or attentive audience among captives than they had found at home; briars, thorns would be with him; he must dwell among scorpions. Lamentations and mourning and woe filled his roll as much as that which Baruch wrote out for Jeremiah. And he must eat this roll; it must become a part of his very soul; its words must come forth living and burning out of himself. He must understand, besides, all the fearful responsibilities of the prophet. He was to speak whether the men about him would hear or whether they would forbear. There were times when his tongue would cleave to the roof of his mouth, when he should be dumb and should not be to them a reprover. But when God opened his lips, the blood of those to whom he was sent was upon him; it would be required at his hands if they died in their iniquity and he had not warned them. He must submit to do all symbolical acts, however strange and fantastical they might seem in themselves, which might bring the feeling of coming judgments home to a sense-bound people. He must act a mimic siege, he must eat defiled bread; he must cut off his hair and weigh it in balances, if so the people could be made to understand,--in spite of their false prophets who spoke of coming peace and enacted their signs, which of course involved no discomfort or humiliation to themselves,--that the city would really be destroyed and the sanctuary laid waste. He was to persuade his brother captives that they were a remnant in which the nation still lived, a stock out of which it should hereafter grow and flourish, even tho they were most rebellious, dreaming of good things which would never come, not waiting for that good which God had designed for them. There was to be the same end in all the punishments which were coming upon the land and in all its deliverances. God was saying in all "I am the Lord." This sentence recurs again and again in the prophecies of Ezekiel. It is the thought of his mind, the one which gives all the sublimity and all the practical worth to his discourses,--that the knowledge of God is the supreme good of man, and that the desolation of his countrymen has come from their not liking to retain it. He is transported in spirit to the temple. There the same vision of the glory of God which he had seen by the river returns to him. The light of it shows him, portrayed upon the wall of the temple round about, the abominable beasts and creeping things, and the idols of the house of Israel; what the ancients of the house of Israel did in the dark, every one in the chambers of his imagery; how the women were weeping for Tammuz; how the men were worshiping the sun towards the east. Whether such abominations as these were actually to be seen in the temple, or whether the prophet's eye opened by the divine Spirit saw that they were possessing the hearts of those who seemed to others, perhaps to themselves, to be worshiping the God of their fathers, it is clear that the mind of Ezekiel was led back to the place in which he had ministered, that he might be taught how little the sacred building could preserve the truth which was enshrined in it. What Ezekiel has seen in the temple enables him to answer the elders of Israel when they come to consult him in his own house. Just what was going on among those who worshiped in Jerusalem, was going on in the hearts of those who sought his oracles. They were setting up idols there. They wanted to know what God would do with them or against them; they did not want to know Him. And therefore Ezekiel announces to them a great and eternal moral law, one of the most varied application; "God will answer you according to your idols." The truth which is presented to you, will be colored, distorted, inverted by the eye which receives it. The covetousness which you are cherishing will make the best and divinest word you hear, a minister of covetousness. Your pride and your lust will make it a minister of lust and pride. No bolder or more awful paradox was ever enunciated than this, nor one which the conscience of everyone will more surely verify. And there was this special proof of courage in making such an announcement, that it must have destroyed Ezekiel's reputation as a prophet. The elders came in terror, feeling that they wanted guidance and expecting some ready-made answer, such as the regular traders in prophecy could always furnish. The truly inspired man answers, "I can tell you nothing,--nothing at least that will not deceive you and become a lie in your minds. For you bring lies in your minds, and except they be extirpated, they must convert whatever is added to them from without, to their own quality." Ezekiel himself illustrates in another case this great principle. No commandment had established itself more completely by the experience of the people to whom it was addrest, than the second. The idolatries of the land had accumulated with each generation. Each had cause to complain of the last as bequeathing it a stock of corrupt habits and traditions; the sins of the fathers had been visited upon the children. These were facts not to be gainsaid. The captives had leisure to reflect upon them. It might have been a most profound and profitable reflection. The use they made of it was to prove they were under a necessary law of degeneracy. How could they help themselves? The fathers had eaten sour grapes, and their teeth were set on edge. Who dared dispute it? There was God's own word for it. Had he not told them the plan and method of His own government? Such language addrest to one of the favorite preachers or prophets of the people, would have silenced him altogether. He would have said, "It is a mystery, no doubt; we must take the words of the commandment tho we can not understand them. God is Sovereign; He can do what He likes. If it pleases Him that each generation should be more corrupt than the last, we must submit and not dispute His will." Others there would be who would complain boldly and with good reason of a will that compelled to evil, but yet would lazily submit to it, supposing it to be inevitable, tho feeling the absurdity of calling it divine. Ezekiel boldly stands forth to dispute and deny the whole principle. He does not dispute or deny the second commandment,--that was probably the text of his discourse. But he will not let the second commandment or any other words in the world be pleaded against the character of God. Righteousness and equity he maintains to be the foundations of the divine character and of the divine acts. He will tolerate no resolution of them into a heathenish notion of sovereignty or self-will. "The ways of God are equal," he says, "and your ways are unequal." The sins of the father only descend upon the son, they are only punished in the son, when the son accepts them, entertains them, makes them his own. At any time he may turn round and repudiate them and cleave to the God who doth not will the death of the sinner, but desires that he should return and live. The doctrine of the second commandment and of the whole law, is that a man is righteous so long as he cleaves to the righteous God who has made a covenant with him, unrighteous when he forsakes that covenant and acts independently. Therefore the notion of any perpetuity in righteousness, or in evil, is equally cut off. Every man has the capacity of righteousness, the capacity of evil. Let him be ever so righteous, he must become evil the moment he ceases to trust in God and begins to trust in himself. Let him be ever so evil, he must become righteous the moment he begins to trust in God and ceases to trust in himself. The enunciation of laws or principles seems more especially to belong to Ezekiel, as the experience of personal evil and the sympathy with national sorrow belong more to the tender and womanly nature of Jeremiah. Nevertheless, Ezekiel was to be a priest in this sense also, as well as in that higher sense of beholding the glory of God and proclaiming His name. Suffering was not the destination of one prophet; it was the badge of all the tribe. Ezekiel's life was to be a continual parable, illustrative of the life of the nation. A man scrupulously careful of the law, was to violate the precepts of it respecting food, and to eat what was loathsome. A man sensitive probably as to his reputation, and with that kind of lofty imagination which makes attention to details and all petty acts unspeakably painful, must submit, for the sake of his countrymen, to such as seemed most ignominious to himself and perplexing to them. Finally, the desire of his eyes must be taken from him with a stroke, and he must not mourn or weep. Even at such a time he must be a sign to the people, tho by doing so he should seem to refuse the sympathy that he most wants, and should only lead the captives to say, "Wilt thou not tell us what these things are to us that thou doest so?" Apart from these sufferings which concern him individually and domestically, the vision of the desolation of Israel became every day more overwhelming to him. Nor was it only the desolation of Israel. He who was called "Son of man," was not likely to speak less of Egypt and Tyrus and the land in which he was himself dwelling, than those older prophets who had so many more reasons for regarding Judea as the one garden of the Lord. The arms of Nebuchadnezzar had been turning the earth upside down and making it waste. Everything must have seemed to him disjointed, incoherent, withered. Could it ever be renovated? Was it possible even for that country which God had blest above all others and man had curst above all others, to breathe and live again? This was the question which was proposed to the prophet on that day when the hand of the Lord was upon him, and he was carried into the valley which was full of bones. The vision, clear as it is in itself, must not be read apart from the context of the prophecy. You should remember where Ezekiel was dwelling; by what kind of people he was surrounded; what was the condition of his own land; what had come and was coming upon all lands; or you will not understand the picture which now rose up before him. You should think, too, of the man himself, of the heat of his spirit, of the words which he had uttered in vain, of the acts which had only made the captives stare vacantly, of the desolation of his house and his heart. You should think of those other visions he had of the ascending scale of creatures, of the mysterious order of the universe, of the glory of God, before you place yourself beside him in the valley, and walk with him round about it, and look at the different bones, and see how each separately how altogether, they expound to him the condition of the house of Israel. It was dead,--that body from which he had believed that life was to go forth to quicken the universe. It had none of the beauty of a corpse in which there is still form, on which the spirit has left its impression. There had been a time of gradual decay, a time when the pulses of the nation beat feebly and faintly, but when they might still be felt; a time after that when you knew it had ceased to breathe, but when you could still speak of it as entire. But another stage had come, the stage of utter dissolution, when each limb looked as if it had nothing to do with any other, when you could scarcely force yourself to believe that they had ever been joined together. Can these bones live? what a thought to come into the mind of any man gazing on such a scene! It could not have come from himself, certainly, nor from any of these relics. God must have sent it to him; He must have led him to dream that such a resurrection was possible. And now the process of it is also revealed to him. The prophet is commanded to speak. His speech seems a mere sound in the air. But there is a noise and a shaking; then a frightful movement of the bones towards each other, each claiming its fellow to which it had once belonged. This strange effort at a union of dead things betokens a power that has not yet declared itself. And soon the sinews and the flesh come up upon them. They have acquired a form, tho they have no life. "Then said he unto me, 'Prophesy unto the wind; Thus saith the Lord God: come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain that they may live.' So I prophesied as he commanded. And the breath came unto them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great army." "Doth he not speak parables?" was the phrase by which the Jews of the captivity exprest their dislike and contempt for the troublesome and mystical prophet who was among them. "Doth he not speak parables?" is a question which men, looking round with weary hearts upon the condition of Christ's Church in various periods of its existence, have asked themselves, with a very different intention and spirit, when they have read this vision of the valley of dry bones. "Is not this written," they have said, "for the ages to come? Is not this one of parables concerning the kingdom of God?" Yes, brethren, if we will first read it fairly and honestly, as describing what Ezekiel says it described to him,--if we will not search for a distant application till we have acknowledged the immediate one,--we shall find that here, as everywhere, Ezekiel is exhibiting facts which belong to other times as well as his own, and laws and methods of a divine government which belong to all times as well as his own. And that I may not waste your time in enumerating different crises of history in which the facts may be discerned, and by which the law and the method may be tested, I say at once, they are all for us; the vision and the interpretation are of this day. Do you not hear men on all sides of you crying, "The Church which we read of in books exists only in them. Christendom consists of Romanists, Greeks, Protestants, divided from each other, disputing about questions to which nineteen-twentieths of those who belong to their communions are indifferent. And meantime what is becoming of the countries in which these different confessions are established? What populations are growing up in them? Does the present generation believe that which its fathers believed? Will the next generation believe anything?" Brethren, you hear such words as these spoken. I do not mean to inquire how much there is of truth in them, how much of exaggeration, what evidences there are on the other side which have been overlooked; what signs of life there are anywhere in the midst of apparent death. But this I must say; Christians in general are far too eager to urge special exceptions when they hear these charges preferred; far too ready to make out a case for themselves while they admit their application to others; far too ready to think that the cause of God is interested in this suppression of facts. The prophets should have taught us a different lesson. They should have led us to feel that it was a solemn duty, not to conceal, but to bring forward all the evidence which proves, not that one country is better than another, or one portion of the Church better than another, but that there is a principle of decay, a tendency to apostasy in all, and that no comfort can come from merely balancing symptoms of good here against symptoms of evil there, no comfort from considering whether we are a little less contentious, a little less idolatrous than our neighbors. Alas, for this Church, or for any church, if its existence now, if its prospects for the future, are to be determined by such calculations as these! No, brethren, our hope has a deeper foundation. It is this; that when the bones have become most dry, when they are lying most scattered and separate from each other, there is still a word going forth, if not through the lips of any prophet on this earth, then through the lips of those who have left it,--yet not proceeding from them, but from Him who liveth for ever and ever, the voice which says, "These bones shall rise." It is this; that every shaking among the bones, everything which seems at first a sign of terror,--men leaving the churches in which they have been born, forsaking all the affections and sympathies and traditions of their childhood,--infidel questionings, doubts whether the world is left to itself or whether it is governed by an evil spirit,--are themselves not indeed signs of life, but at least movements in the midst of death which are better than the silence of the charnel-house, which foretell the approach of that which they can not produce. It is this; that all struggles after union, tho they may be of the most abortive kind, tho they may produce fresh sects and fresh divisions, tho they must do so as long as they rest on the notion that unity is something visible and material, yet indicate a deep and divine necessity which men could not be conscious of in their dreams if they were not beginning to awake. It is this; that there are other visions true for us, as they were for Ezekiel, besides the vision of dry bones. The name of a Father has not ceased to be a true name because baptized men do not own themselves as His children. The name of the Son has not ceased to be a true name, because men are setting up some earthly ruler in place of Him, or are thinking that they can realize a human fellowship without confessing a Man on the throne above the firmament. The name of the Spirit has not ceased to be a true name because we are thinking that we can form combinations and sects and churches without His quickening presence, because we deny that He is really in the midst of us. It is this; that when all earthly priests have been banished or have lost their faith, tho there should be none to mourn over the ruins of Jerusalem, or to feel its sin as his own, yet there is a High Priest, the great Sin-Bearer, ever presenting His perfect and accepted sacrifice within the veil, a High Priest not of a nation, but of humanity. It is this; that tho all earthly temples, in which God has been pleased to dwell, should become desecrated and abominable, tho all foul worship should go on in the midst of them, and tho what is portrayed on their walls should too faithfully represent what is passing in the more secret chambers of imagery, tho at last the shrines that have been supposed to contain the mystery which they set forth should be utterly destroyed, and a voice should be heard out of the midst of them, saying, "Let us depart,"--yet that this will not be the sign that the Church of God has perished, only the sign that the temple of God has been opened in Heaven, and that from thence must come forth the glory that is to fill the whole earth. MARTINEAU PARTING WORDS BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE JAMES MARTINEAU, an English Unitarian divine, was born at Norwich in 1805. He was educated for the Unitarian ministry at Manchester College, and in 1828 ordained to the Presbyterian ministry in Dublin. Resigning his pastorate in Ireland, he took charge of the Paradise Street Chapel in Liverpool, but on being elected to the chair of mental and moral philosophy in Manchester New College followed it to London 1853, succeeding J. J. Taylor as principal of the institution in 1868. His sermons, delivered in the course of four years in the chapel of Manchester New College are specimens of combined eloquence and philosophical profundity, yet are, perhaps, most valuable for their ethical quality. He preached in Dublin, Liverpool, and London. He was a lofty and earnest soul, given to mysticism, a master of English style, and has been widely read. He died in 1900. MARTINEAU 1805-1900 PARTING WORDS _Peace I leave with you: My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you._--John xiv., 27. This is a strange benediction to proceed from the Man of Sorrows, at the dreariest moment of His life; strange at least to those who look only to His outward career, His incessant contact with misery and sin, His absolute solitude of purpose, His lot stricken with sadness ever new from temptation to the cross; but not strange perhaps to those who heard the deep and quiet tones in which this oracle of promise went forth--the divinest music from the center of the darkest fate. He was on the bosom of the beloved disciple and in the midst of those who should have cheered Him in that hour with such comfort as fidelity can always offer; but who, failing in their duty to His griefs, found the sadness creep upon themselves; while He, seeking to give peace to them, found it Himself profusely in the gift. It was not till He had finished this interview and effort of affection, and from the warmth of that evening meal and the flush of its deep converse they had issued into the chill and silent midnight air, nor till the sanctity of moonlight (never to be seen by Him again) had invested Him, and coarse fatigue had sunk His disciples into sleep upon the grass, that having none to comfort, He found anguish fall upon Himself. Deprived of the embrace of John, He flew to the bosom of the Father; and after a momentary strife, recovered in trust the serenity He had found in toil; and while His followers lie stretched in earthly slumber, He reaches a divine repose; while they, yielding to nature, gain neither strength nor courage for the morrow, He, through the vigils of agony, rises to that godlike power, on which mockery and insult beat in vain, and which has made the cross, then the emblem of abjectness and guilt, the everlasting symbol of whatever is holy and sublime. The peace of Christ, then, was the fruit of combined toil and trust; in the one case diffusing itself from the center of His active life, in the other from that of His passive emotions; enabling Him in the one case to do things tranquilly; in the other, to see things tranquilly. Two things only can make life go wrong and painfully with us; when we suffer or suspect misdirection and feebleness in the energies of love and duty within us, or in the providence of the world without us: bringing, in the one case, the lassitude of an unsatisfied and discordant nature; in the other, the melancholy of hopeless views. From these Christ delivers us by a summons to mingled toil and trust. And herein does His peace differ from that which "the world giveth"--that its prime essential is not ease, but strife; not self-indulgence, but self-sacrifice; not acquiescence in evil for the sake of quiet, but conflict with it for the sake of God; not, in short, a prudent accommodation of the mind to the world, but a resolute subjugation of the world to the best conceptions of the mind. Amply has the promise to leave behind Him such a peace been since fulfilled. It was fulfilled to the apostles who first received it; and has been realized again by a succession of faithful men to whom they have delivered it. The word "peace" denotes the absence of jar and conflict; a condition free from the restlessness of fruitless desire, the forebodings of anxiety, the stings of enmity. It may be destroyed by discordance between the lot without and the mind within, where the human being is in an obviously false position--an evil rare and usually self-curative; or by a discordance wholly internal, among the desires and affections themselves. The first impulse of "the natural man" is to seek peace by mending his external condition; to quiet desire by increase of ease; to banish anxiety by increase of wealth; to guard against hostility by making himself too strong for it; to build up his life into a fortress of security and a palace of comfort, where he may softly lie, tho tempests beat and rain descends. The spirit of Christianity casts away at once this whole theory of peace; declares it the most chimerical of dreams; and proclaims it impossible even to make this kind of reconciliation between the soul and the life wherein it acts. As well might the athlete demand a victory without a foe. To the noblest faculties of soul rest is disease and torture. The understanding is commissioned to grapple with ignorance, the conscience to confront the powers of moral evil, the affections to labor for the wretched and opprest; nor shall any peace be found, till these, which reproach and fret us in our most elaborate ease, put forth an incessant and satisfying energy; till, instead of conciliating the world, we vanquish it; and rather than sit still, in the sickness of luxury, for it to amuse our perceptions, we precipitate ourselves upon it to mold it into a new creation. Attempt to make all smooth and pleasant without, and you thereby create the most corroding of anxieties, and stimulate the most insatiable of appetites within. But let there be harmony within, let no clamors of self drown the voice which is entitled to authority there; let us set forth on the mission of duty, resolved to live for it alone, to close with every resistance that obstructs it, and march through every peril that awaits it; and in the consciousness of immortal power, the sense of mortal ill will vanish; and the peace of God well nigh extinguish the sufferings of the man. "In the world we may have tribulation; in Christ we shall have peace." This peace, so remote from torpor, arising, indeed, from the intense action of the greatest of all ideas, those of duty, of immortality, of God, fell, according to the promise, on the first disciples. Not in vain did Jesus tell them in their sorrows that the Comforter would come; nor falsely did He define the blessed visitant, as "the spirit of truth"--the soul reverentially faithful to its convictions, and expressing clearly in action its highest aspirings. Such peace had Stephen, when before the Sanhedrim that was striving to hush up the recent story of the cross, he proclaimed aloud the sequel of the ascension; and priests and elders arose and stopped their ears, and thrust him out to death; he had his peace; else how, if heaven of divinest tranquility had not opened to him and revealed to him the proximity of Christ to God, how as the stone struck his uncovered and uplifted head, could he have so calmly said, "Lord, lay not this sin to their charge"? Such peace had Paul--at least when he ceased to rebel against his noble nature, and became, instead of the emissary of persecution, the ambassador of God. Was there ever a life of less ease and security, yet of more buoyant and rejoicing spirit than his? What weight did he not cast aside, to run the race that was set before him? What tie of home or nation did he not break, that he might join in one of the whole family of God? For forty years the scoff of synagogues and the outcast of his people, he forgot the privations of the exile in the labors of the missionary; flying from charges of sedition he disseminated the principles of peace; persecuted from city to city, yet he created in each a center of pure worship and Christian civilization, and along the coasts of Asia, and colonies of Macedonia, and citadels of Greece, dropped link after link of the great chain of truth that shall yet embrace the world. Amid the joy of making converts, he had also the affliction of making martyrs; to witness the sufferings, perhaps to bear the reproaches, of survivors; with weeping heart to rebuke the fears, and sustain the faith of many a doubter; and in solitude and bonds to send forth the effusions of his earnest spirit to quicken the life, and renovate the gladness, of the confederate churches. Yet when did speculation at its ease ever speak with vigor so noble and cheerfulness so fresh as his glorious letters; which recount his perils by land and sea, his sorrows with friend and foe, and declare that "none of these things move" him; which show him projecting incessant work, yet ready for instant rest; conscious that already he has fought the good fight, and willing to finish his course and resign the field; but prepared, if needs be, to grasp again the sword of the Spirit, and go forth in quest of wider victories. Does any one suppose that it would have been more peaceful to look back on a life less exposed and adventurous, on a lot sheltered and secure, on soft-bedded comfort, and unbroken plenty, and conventional compliance? No! it is only beforehand that we mistake these things for peace; in the retrospect we know them better, and would exchange them all for one vanquished temptation in the desert, for one patient bearing of the cross! What--when all is over, and we lie upon the last bed--what is the worth to us of all our guilty compromises, of all the moments stolen from duty to be given to ease? If Paul had cowered before the tribunal of Nero, and trembled at his comrade's blood, and, instead of baring his neck to the imperial sword, had purchased by poor evasions another year of life--where would that year have been now--a lost drop in the deep waters of time--yet not lost, but rather mingled as a poison in the refreshing stream of good men's goodness by which Providence fertilizes the ages. The peace of Christ, thus inherited by His disciples, and growing out a living spirit of duty and of love, contrasts not merely with guilty ease, but with that mere mechanical facility in blameless action which habit gives. There is something faithless and ignoble in the very reasonings sometimes employed to recommend virtuous habits. They are urged upon us, because they smooth the way of right; we are invited to them for the sake of ease. Adopted in such a temper, duty after all makes its bargain with indulgence, and is not yet pursued for its own sake and with the allegiance of a loving heart. Moreover, whoever has true conscience sees that there is a fallacy in this persuasion; for whenever habits become mechanical, they cease to satisfy the requirements of duty; the obligations of which enlarge definitely with our powers, demanding an undiminished tension of the will, and an ever-constant life of the affections. It can never be, that a soul which has a heaven open to its view, which is stationed here, not simply to accommodate itself to the arrangement of this world, but also to school itself for the spirit of another, is intended to rest in mere automatic regularities. When the mind is thrown into other scenes, and finds itself in the society of the world invisible, suddenly introduced to the heavenly wise and the sainted good--what peace can it expect from mere dry tendencies to acts no longer practicable and blameless things now left behind? No; it must have that pure love which is nowhere a stranger, in earth or heaven; that vital goodness of the affections, that adjusts itself at once to every scene where there is truth and holiness to venerate; that conscience, wakeful and devout, which enters with instant joy on any career of duty and progress opened to its aspirations. And even in "the life that now is," the mere mechanist of virtue, who copies precepts with mimetic accuracy, is too frequently at fault, to have even the poor peace which custom promises. He is at home only on his own beat. An emergency perplexes him, and too often tempts him disgracefully to fly. He wants the inventiveness by which a living heart of duty seizes the resources of good, and uses them to the last; and the courage by which love, like honor, starts to the post of noble danger, and maintains it till, by such fidelity, it becomes a place of danger no more. It is a vain attempt to comprize in rules and aphorisms all the various moral exigencies of life. Hardly does such legality suffice to define the small portion of right and wrong contemplated in human jurisprudence. But the true instincts of a pure mind, like the creative genius of art, frames rules most perfect in the act of obeying them, and throws the materials of life into the fairest attitudes and the justest proportions. He whose allegiance is paid to the mere perceptive system, shapes and carves his duty into the homeliest of wooden idols; he who has the spirit of Christ turns it into an image breathing and divine. Children of God in the noblest sense, we are not without something of His creative spirit in our hearts. The power is there to separate the light from the darkness within us, and set in the firmament of the soul luminaries to guide and gladden us, for seasons and for years; power to make the herbage green beneath our feet, and beckon happy creatures into existence around our path; power to mold the clay of our earthly nature into the likeness of God most high; and thus only have we power to look back in peace upon our work, and find a Sabbath rest upon the thought that, morning and evening, all is good. But the peace which Christ left and bequeathed was the result of trust, no less than toil. However immersed in action, and engaged in enterprises of conscience, every life has its passive moments, when the operation is reversed, and power, instead of going from us, returns upon us; and the scenes of our existence present themselves to us as objects of speculation and emotion. Sometimes we are forced into quietude in pauses of exhaustion or of grief; stretched upon the bed of pain, to hear the great world murmuring and rolling by; or lifted into the watch-tower of solitude, to look over the vast plain of humanity, and from a height that covers it with silence observe its groups shifting and traversing like spirits in a city of the dead. At such times our peace must depend on the view under which our faith or our fears may exhibit this mighty "field of the world"; on the forces of evil, of fortuity, or of God, which we suppose to be secretly directing the changes on the scene, and calling up the brief apparition of generation after generation. And so great and terrible is the amount of evil, physical and moral, in the great community of men; so vast the numbers sunk in barbarism, compared with the few who more nobly represent our nature; so many and piercing (could we but hear them) the cries of unpitied wretchedness, that with every beat of the pendulum wander unnoticed into the air; so dense the crowds that are thrust together in the deepest recesses of want, and that crawl through the loathsome hives of sin; that only two men can look through the world without dismay; he, on the one hand, who suffering himself to be bewildered with momentary horror, and in the confusion of his emotions, to mistake what he sees for the moral chaos, turns his back in the despair of fatalism, crying, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die"; and he, on the other, who, with the discernment of a deeper wisdom, penetrates through the shell of evil to the kernel and the seed of good; who perceives in suffering and temptation the resistance which alone can render virtue manifest, and conscience great, and existence venerable; who recognizes, even in the gigantic growth of guilt, the grasp of infinite desires, and the perseverance of godlike capacities; who sees how soon, were God to take up His omnipotence, and snatch from His creature "man" the care of the world and the work of self-perfection, all that deforms might be swept away, and the meanest lifted through the interval that separates them from the noblest; and who therefore holds fast to the theory of hope and the kindred duty of effort; takes shelter beneath the universal Providence of God; and seeing time enough in His vast cycles for the growth and consummation of every blessing can be patient as well as trust; can resign the selfish vanity of doing all things himself, and making a finish before he dies; and cheerfully give up his life to build up the mighty temple of human improvement, tho no inscription mark it for glory, and it be as one of the hidden stones of the sanctuary, visible only to the eye of God. Such was the spirit and the faith which Jesus left, and in which His first disciples found their rest. Within the infinitude of the divine mercy trouble did but fold them closer; the perversity of man did but provide them to put forth a more conquering love; and tho none were ever more the sport of the selfish interests and prejudices of mankind, or came into contact with a more desolate portion of the great wastes of humanity, they constructed no melancholy theories; but having planted many a rose of Sharon, and made their little portion of the desert smile, departed in the faith that the green margin would spread as the seasons of God came round, till the mantle of heaven covered the earth, and it ended with Eden as it had begun. Between these two sources of Christian peace, virtuous toil, and holy trust, there is an intimate connection. The desponding are generally the indolent and useless; not the tried and struggling, but speculators at a distance from the scene of things, and far from destitute of comforts themselves. Barren of the most blest of human sympathies, strangers to the light that best gladdens the heart of man, they are without the materials of a bright and hopeful faith. But he who consecrates himself sees at once how God may sanctify the world; he whose mind is rich in the memory of moral victories will not easily believe the world a scene of moral defeats; nor was it ever known that one who, like Paul, labored for the good of man, despaired of the benevolence of God. Whoever then would have the peace of Christ, let him seek first the spirit of Christ. Let him not fret against the conditions which God assigns to his being, but reverently conform himself to them, and do and enjoy the good which they allow. Let him cast himself freely on the career to which the secret persuasion of duty points, without reservation of happiness or self; and in the exercise which its difficulties give to his understanding, its conflicts to his will, its humanities to his affections, he shall find that united action of his whole and best nature, that inward harmony, that moral order, which emancipates from the anxieties of self, and unconsciously yields the divinest repose. The shadows of darkest affliction cannot blot out the inner radiance of such a mind; the most tedious years move lightly and with briefest step across its history; for it is conscious of its immortality, and hastening to its heavens. And there shall its peace be consummated at length; its griefs transmuted into delicious retrospects; its affections fresh and ready for a new and nobler career; and its praise confessing that this final "peace of God" doth indeed surpass its understanding. MANNING THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHURCH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE HENRY EDWARD MANNING, Roman Catholic prelate, was born 1808 at Totteridge in Hertfordshire and educated at Harrow and Oxford. After graduation in 1830, he studied for holy orders in the Church of England and was ordained in 1833. The Tractarian Movement was then at its height and Manning took a leading part in it. Appointed Archdeacon of Chichester in 1840 he took a commanding place as a preacher and leader. Newman's recession did not shake his allegiance, but the decision in the Gorham case, which gave the Crown the power of deciding doctrinal questions, drove him to seek refuge in the Roman Catholic fold in 1851. He was ordained priest by Cardinal Wiseman and to the end of his life devoted himself to religious and philanthropic work in London. He was appointed to succeed Wiseman as Archbishop of Westminster in 1865. He was made cardinal in 1875. As a preacher he was logical and dogmatic, but his style is imaginative and his flights of eloquence tinged with poetic coloring and passion. He died in 1892. MANNING 1808-1892 THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHURCH _We give thanks unto God, who maketh us always to triumph in Christ Jesus, and manifesteth the odor of the knowledge of Him by us in every place. For we are a good odor of Christ unto God, both in them that are saved and in them that perish; in the one indeed an odor of life, in the other an odor of death unto death._--2 Cor. ii., 14-16. (Douay Version.) Such was the confidence of the Apostle in the face of all that was most hostile, mighty, and triumphant in the judgment of this world. He was confident that through God his mission in the world was being accomplished, that the Word of God was triumphing over all the power of man. They may well have said to him, "What is this triumph you speak of? If this be triumph, what is defeat? You were stoned the other day in Lystra; you were imprisoned at Philippi; you were scourged at Jerusalem; you were saved out of the hands of the people only by Roman soldiers; you were confounded by the philosophers at Athens; and you were refuted out of the holy Scriptures by the Jews of Berea. If this is triumph, you are welcome to it." Such, no doubt, was the lordly and confident language of men in the face of the apostles of Jesus Christ then, and such is the language of confidence with which the world looks on the Catholic Church at this hour. It counts it to be a comedy played out, a stale medieval superstition, and a name that is trampled in the earth. In every age the Church has been militant and in warfare. It is under the same law of suffering which crucified its divine Head. His throne was a cross, and His crown was of thorns. Nevertheless He triumphed, and He triumphs still, and shall triumph to the end. And so at this moment, in this nineteenth century, in the century of modern civilization, of light, of progress, of scientific affectation, the Catholic Church is derided. They say to us, "Look at the Catholic Church in Germany; look at it in Italy; the head of the Church dethroned; and not a spot on earth for the incarnation to set its foot upon. If this be triumph you are welcome to it." Our answer is: "Yes, even now we triumph always and in every place. The Catholic Church is triumphing now in America, and in Ireland, and in the colonies of the British empire; aye, and in the midst of the confusions in Spain, and in France through revolution after revolution, and in the furnace of infidelity; aye, and in Germany, in the midst of all that the might of man can do against it; and in Italy too, where the head of the Church is morally a prisoner, it is triumphing even now." But how can I verify this assertion? It would be enough indeed to quote the words of the apostle, but I hope to do more. The world esteems the triumph of the Church to be in wealth, power, glory, honor, public sway over empires and nations. There was a time indeed when the world laid these things at the feet of the apostles of Jesus Christ. There was a time when the Catholic Church and the Christian world knew how to sanctify the society of men; but there is this difference--the world then believed, and the world now is apostate. Nevertheless, there is a triumph in the Christian world and there is a triumph in the anti-Christian world; and what is it? It is that the Church in every age and in every condition, and in the midst of all antagonists, fulfils its mission and accomplishes its work, and no power of man can hinder it. Men may, as we shall see hereafter, to their own destruction, resist the mission of the Church, but its work will be accomplished nevertheless, and accomplished even in them; and its work will be a good odor of Christ unto God both in those that are saved and in those that perish. The world has neither tests nor measures by which to understand what the mission and the work of the Church are; but they who see by the light of faith have both. Let us examine, then, what is its mission, what is its work, and how it is fulfilled. First of all, the mission of the Church among men is this--to be a witness for God, and for the incarnation of God in the face of the world. Our Divine Lord said of Himself: "For this was I born, and for this came I into the world, that I should give testimony unto the truth." As it was with Him, so it is with His Church; and therefore He said to His apostles: "You shall be witnesses unto me," and St. John said: "That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands handled, of the word of life; for the life was manifested, and we have seen it, and do bear witness, and declare unto you, the life eternal which was with the Father, and hath appeared unto us; that is to say, the manifestation of God in the flesh, the incarnation of the Son of God." The Church was the witness of this divine fact to the world, and it is witness to this hour. I may say it is an eye-witness. It was eye-witness of what it declares. It was an ear-witness of what it affirms. I may say in truth that the Church of God, which testifies at this hour, saw the Son of God, and heard His words, and was witness of His miracles. So St. Peter expressly declares, speaking of His transfiguration: "We have not, by artificial fables, made known to you the power and presence of our Lord Jesus Christ; but we were eye-witnesses of his greatness. For he received from God the Father honor and glory, this voice coming down to him from the excellent glory: This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him. And his voice we heard brought from heaven, when we were with him in the holy mount." More than this: it was a witness of the day of Pentecost, and upon it the Holy Ghost descended. It heard the sound of the mighty wind and it saw the tongues of fire. The Church therefore testifies at this day as an ear-witness and an eye-witness of the divine facts which it declares. And how can this be said? Because that which the apostles saw and heard they delivered to others who believed in them upon a full test and knowledge of their truth, and those who received their testimony held it as a sacred trust and declared it to those who came after. From age to age the testimony of the apostles has descended unbroken. The intrinsic certainty of their witness, resting on their own eye-witness and ear-witness of the facts, has not diminished by a shade, jot, or tittle in the lapse of time, and the external evidence of that fact has multiplied and extended throughout all time and throughout the world. Therefore the testimony of the apostles to these divine realities and truths is as living and fresh at this day as it was in the beginning. Then twelve men testified; now the nations of the world, united in one body by faith and by baptism, take up and perpetuate that testimony. And part of that testimony is this--that when the Son of God ascended into heaven, as they saw Him ascend, He fulfilled His promise that He would send the Spirit of Truth, the Holy Ghost, to abide with them forever; that when one divine Teacher had gone up to His Father's throne, another should come in His stead; that the world should never be without a divine Person and a divine Teacher in the midst of it; and that the Spirit of Truth by which they were united to their divine Head in heaven should unite them also to each other as His members in one mystical body, and should form to Himself a dwelling-place in which to abide forever. As the soul abides in the body of the man, so the Holy Ghost abides in the body of the Church. It is the sanctuary in which He dwells; the organ by which He speaks, so that the words of our Divine Lord are fulfilled to the very letter--"He that heareth you heareth me;" for the voice of the head and that of the body, as St. Augustine says, are one and the same voice. As they make one moral person, so their voice is identical, and the assistance of the Holy Spirit keeps the voice of the Church always in perfect harmony with the voice of its divine Head, fulfilling the promise of the Lord by His prophet: "My spirit which is upon thee and my word which I put in thy mouth, shall never depart out of thy mouth, nor out of the mouth of thy seed, nor out of the mouth of thy seed's seed from this time and forever." Thus, then, the mission of the Church is fulfilled always; whether the world believe or disbelieve, whether it gainsay or assent, it matters not; the testimony of the Church forever triumphs in every place. Another part of the mission of the Church is this--to teach the doctrines of Jesus Christ in the midst of all the controversies and contradictions of men. In the face of all the errors and heresies of men there is one divine Teacher perpetually declaring the same immutable truth. In the clamor and confusion of the human voices of philosophers and human guides, of the scribes and Pharisees of the new laws, there is one divine voice--articulate, clear, and piercing--which cleaves through all the confusion, and is to be heard above the clamor of men and of nations--the voice of that one holy, Catholic, and Roman Church, spreading from the sunrise to the sunset, immutable in its doctrine, teaching the same truths identically in every place, and abiding always the same unchanging teacher in every age. This is a fact legible in human history. I need not offer proof of it from histories written by ourselves; it is proved by histories and controversies of those who are most opposed to us. There is an accusation which is repeated from age to age against the Catholic and Roman Church; and what is it? That it always persists in its old errors. I accept the accusation. Its persistence proves its immutability, and that which they account error we know to be the doctrine of Jesus Christ; because, as I have already shown from the Word of God, neither can the Catholic Church ever err in believing, nor can the Catholic Church err in teaching. These are two impossibilities, and they descend from one and the same divine truth. God, the Holy Ghost, abiding forever in the mystical body of Christ, illuminates the whole body of the faithful from the time of their baptism. From the time that the graces of faith, hope, and charity are infused into their souls, they are illuminated with the light of faith as the world is illuminated by the splendor of the sun at noonday; and the faithful throughout the world continue passively in their persistence in that one baptismal faith wherewith they were enlightened from their earliest consciousness. And further, they can never err in believing, because the Church which teaches them can never err in teaching. The episcopate throughout the world, which is the college of the apostles multiplied and expanded among all nations, has always the assistance of the Spirit of Truth to guide and preserve it, so that the errors of men and infirmities of our intellect never prevail over the light of faith by which the whole Episcopate and the Church is sustained in the revelation of the day of Pentecost. And more than this: nineteen general councils, from the first which declared the coequality and consubstantiality of the Son with the Father and the Holy Ghost, down to the last which declared the infallibility of the vicar of Jesus Christ,--those nineteen councils have been the organ of the Holy Ghost, preserving the truth in all ages; and the pontiffs, two hundred and fifty-seven in number, have also been guided and assisted by the same Spirit of Truth; so that no doctrine of faith and morals from their hand and from their lips has been out of harmony with the revelation of Jesus Christ. For these reasons the Church is fulfilling its mission, always and in every place, and it can say in every age, with a divine certainty of knowledge and with a divine authority of teaching: "It seemed good to the Holy Ghost and to us." Once more, and lastly: there is another part of the mission of the Church which never fails, and is never baffled--and that is, that the Church judges between the truth of God and the errors of men, and gives decision with divine certainty what is truth, what is falsehood, what is light and what is darkness. Here again the world, in the confusion of its discordant witnesses, bears testimony to our truth. The world disclaims altogether the presence of any divine teacher in the midst of us. It derides the very notion. There is not a sect or a communion, or a so-called church, which lays claim to this divine guidance. They say infallibility exists nowhere but in God. As the Pharisees said: "Who can forgive sins but God only?" thereby acknowledging the divinity of Him who forgave the palsied man. And while they say: "We have no infallibility in us; we do not claim it; we deny its existence on the face of the earth," the one Teacher, who never varies in His voice, says: "He that heareth me heareth him that sent me." It seemed good to the Holy Ghost and unto us that we should claim that infallibility, and we cite you before the tribunal of God to answer for your denial of that truth. We say further that no man knows that any revelation was ever made to man except through our testimony. You never saw the Word made flesh, you nor your forefathers; and you have no unbroken succession of witnesses who trace upward these eighteen hundred years to the day when the Holy Ghost descended with wind and fire; you are not in contact with the original revelation of God. How can you rise up and say: "This was revealed upwards of eighteen hundred years ago," when you have no proof to give, except that which you borrow from me, that the Son of God ever came into the world? You take my witness for the fact of Christianity, and you then contradict me when I teach you what the doctrines of Christianity are. And if men appeal to the Scriptures, our answer is the same. How do you know the Scriptures were ever written? How can you prove that there ever was a book called the Word of God? You had it from me; you snatched it out of my hand, and you then read it and interpret it in contradiction to my teaching. How do you know that there were four greater prophets and twelve lesser in the Old Testament; that there were four evangelists and fourteen epistles of St. Paul in the New? Who told you all these things? You had them all from me--from me alone, to whom these Scriptures were committed in custody and in guardianship; from me, who preserved and handed them on to this day. You, who are denying the inspiration of this book and of that, of this text and of that text, and who are gnawing away, as a moth fretteth a garment, the whole written word of God, you rise up and tell us: "This is the meaning of the holy Scriptures," and you reject the holy Catholic faith. Dear brethren, it needs great patience to hear these things; nevertheless, the judge is always calm and patient while he is fulfilling his work among men, and that because it is a grave thing to be the odor of life unto life and of death unto death to the eternal souls of men. And when men appeal to antiquity and tell us that "this is not the primitive tradition," the Church answers: Were you ever in antiquity, or anyone that belongs to you? I was there, and as a perpetual witness antiquity is to me nothing but my early days. Antiquity exists in my consciousness to this hour, as men grown to riper years remember their childhood. Men of the world know that the contemporaneous interpretation of a law is the most authentic and certain interpretation. But I have the contemporaneous interpretation of holy Scripture; and more than this, men who practise before human tribunals know that the continuous usage of a country is the interpretation of its laws written and unwritten. But I have the contemporaneous and the continuous usage of the Church of God. The seven sacraments are institutions of Jesus Christ and every one of them interprets a cluster of truths. The existence of the Church itself is an interpretation of the words: "Thou art Peter, and upon this rock will I build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." The jurisdiction that I have over the world, which the hearts of men recognize and to which their consciences respond, is the interpretation of the words: "Receive ye the Holy Ghost, whose soever sins ye forgive, they are forgiven unto them; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained." But lastly there is another appeal which men make in this day. We are now told that scientific history is the test of truth; and I saw the other day in a document having great pretension from a certain body of men who are troubling Germany and attempting to trouble even England with the name of Old Catholics, that the way to know the pure faith of Jesus Christ is to interpret history by science. Alas, as I said before, the world is full of pretensions to science; but those who claim to be Catholics, and who yet appeal from the living voice of the Catholic Church to any other tribunal whatsoever, are all of them identical in their principle, and that principle is heresy. Luther appealed from the voice of the Catholic Church to Scripture, and thereby became a heretic. There are others who appeal to antiquity, and the appeal is the same--it is an appeal from the living voice, from the divine authority of the Church, to something of their own choice and creation. It matters not to what the appeal is made. That which constitutes both the treason of the act and the heresy of the principle is that they appeal from the living voice, that is from the divine voice. This it is that is being done at this moment by a body of men who profess to be and to intend to live and die Catholics; and what is more, to purify and reform the Church by staying in it. What is their appeal? Their appeal is to history, to scientific history; that is, to history interpreted by themselves. Luther was much more direct and much wiser. He appealed to a book which is certainly written by the Holy Ghost; they appeal to I know not what books, but to books certainly written only by men, and not by the Spirit of God; to human history, the authenticity of which and the purity of the text of which no one can guarantee; and even this they interpret for themselves. Now bear with me further if I dwell a few moments longer upon this. At the time I speak, in the old Catholic city of Cologne there is assembled together a number of these men--some four or five hundred--with a handful of unhappy priests, perhaps six or eight, of whom the greater part had already the note of unsoundness upon them before they took their deadly step. And what are they? What are these men who are rising up to purify the Church? What do they believe? Some believe all the Council of Trent, but not the Council of the Vatican. Some believe the Church to be infallible, but not its Head; others propose to reject the invocation of saints, and purgatory, and compulsory confession, and I know not what. Others ask for either half or altogether rationalism. And who have they to assist them? Excommunicated Jansenists from Holland, and members, I grieve to say, of the Established Church from England; and those chosen, as it were, by a happy fatality, one the most extreme of old-fashioned high-church orthodoxy--an estimable and excellent man, whose person I both respect and love; and another whose advanced rationalism is such that even his own brethren can hardly forbear protesting against him. So that we have assembled in this congress, which is to reform and purify the Catholic and Roman Church of all ages, men so irreconcilably in contradiction with themselves that they cannot touch a religious doctrine without discord, and they cannot find anything on which to unite except in opposition to the one immutable truth. There was a day when all the Scribes, and all the Pharisees, and all the Herodians, and all the hypocrites, and all the men who could agree in anything else or at any other time, were united together in one conspiracy, and tho their witnesses did not agree together and their discordant voices could not be combined they all had one will and one purpose against the Son of God and against His truth. These men, I bear witness--many of them at least--have no such intention; but we know from the Word of God that neither had they who crucified our divine Master a knowledge of what they did: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." "Which none of the princes of this world knew; for if they had known it they would never have crucified the Lord of glory." But they are at this moment fulfilling the very words of the apostles: "And to some the testimony of the Church is life unto life, to others death unto death." Such then, is the mission and the work of the Church--to bear its witness, to teach and to judge; and in doing this, whether men will believe or whether men will not believe, it is accomplishing its triumph in the world. The world forgets that there is not only salvation, but there is also judgment; and God, the just judge of all, is putting men on their trial. The Church is fulfilling its office by proposing the way of salvation to men, visibly to the eye by its own presence, audibly to the ear by its own teachings, clearly to the intellect by the evident truth of its doctrines. It is putting men upon trial and applying the test to their hearts. It tests their faith to see whether men will believe; it tests their candor to see whether they will choose God above all things; it tests their courage to know whether they are ready to take up their cross and follow their divine Master. The Church says to the men of this day: "Whosoever will save his life shall lose it, and whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel shall save it." And in saying this God is separating between nation and nation and between man and man. His "fan is in his hand and he will thoroughly purge his floor and gather his wheat into the garner, but the chaff will be burnt with unquenchable fire." "He that believeth and is baptized will be saved; but he that believeth not is condemned." "We thank God, who always maketh us to triumph in Christ Jesus and manifesteth the odor of him by us in every place;" for we now, at this hour, in the midst of the nineteenth century, in the midst of science and progress, are the odor of life unto life and the odor of death unto death. For the purpose of God in the world is this--to gather out, as He did of old, a people for His name. Among the Gentiles of the old world He chose Israel; so now amongst the nations of the new world He chooses those that believe. He knows the number of His elect and He calls them by their name. He proposes to them the way of salvation and puts all things necessary--truth and grace--within their reach. God is putting them on trial, and the Church in this is fulfilling its mission and accomplishing its work. The world is on its probation now. It has been for generations and generations driving God and Christianity out of its public life. Christianity is cancelled from its public law; Christianity is silent in the legislature; Christianity at this moment lingers in education, but men are endeavoring to close the doors of the schools against it and so to shut Christianity out of the knowledge of the rising generation. Wo to the people the tradition of whose Christian education is cut asunder! Wo to your children and to your posterity, if they are brought up without the knowledge of Christianity! The world is laboring with all its might, and all its fraud, and all its riches, and all its public authority, to accomplish this end. I do not say that the men who are doing it know what they do; but I affirm that they are doing what I say. Unbelievers like those who created the infidel revolution of France in the last century knew well what they were doing. "Let us destroy the accurst one," was the language in which they frankly spoke of Jesus Christ. Men are more refined in the present day. They talk only of the religious difficulty. "Let us evade or get around the religious difficulty;" and, under this plea of evading the religious difficulty, Christianity is to be excluded from our schools; that is to say, because grown men choose to controvert and contradict each other as to what is the truth of God, the little ones of Jesus Christ are to be robbed of their faith. Again, the world is separating its civil powers, its public authority from the unity of the faith and of the Church everywhere. It is making it a part of high and perfect legislation, of what we hear called in these days "progress and modern civilization," to separate the Church from the State, and the school from the Church. Progress has deposed the Head of the Church; it has put in derision a crown of thorns upon his head; and it believes that at last it has the whole world to itself. This indeed is the triumph of the world. But meanwhile the Church is triumphing, tho men know it not. The Church was never more widespread than at this moment; never more luminous in the eyes of men, never more explicitly known in its faith; never more united, vigorous, pure, and confident in its work. Its kingdom is not of this world: that is, it is not derived from it; the foundation of its jurisdiction is in eternity; the source of its truth is in the Holy Ghost, and its imperishable Head is the Son of God at the right hand of the Father. His kingdom is in the world, but not of it. The world may prosper and go its way; it may stop its ears against the voice of the divine witness to the truth; nevertheless that witness will be the odor of death unto death. And England also is on its probation. I bear witness that in England errors are vanishing away, as the snow melts before the sun--passing away, as the hard frosts before the coming of the spring. The errors which were once dominant, lordly, confident, and persecuting--where are they now? At this day men are proclaiming that they are not certain of what their forefathers bequeathed to them; that they cannot precisely tell what was the doctrine which was intended in the Thirty-nine Articles, and was incorporated in statute laws. They are no longer certain of these things; and I bear them witness that a gentler spirit and a kindlier disposition is working in the hearts of many. In the midst of this darkness, truth is rising again, and the old Catholic Church and faith, for which Ireland has stood inflexible as a martyr, with the aureola upon her head, at this day is multiplying the children of faith here and throughout the world. Here too in Lancashire, where the faith of England has never been extinct--where to this day the little children of our flock are the descendants of those who were martyrs and confessors some three hundred years ago--the lingering tradition of faith once more is embodied in the perfect hierarchy of the Church of God, in its perfect order, perfect unity, perfect jurisdiction, perfect authority. And, what is more, the men of England have learned to know it better. They have heard it speak; they have seen it worship; they have even knelt together with us before the same altar, perhaps hardly knowing what they did; and that because the Spirit of God is working for His truth, and multitudes will be saved. We are only in the twilight of the morning; but we can see Jesus standing on the shore, and there is a net in the hands of His apostles let down in the water. But when we are long gone to our rest, who can say what shall be the great draft of souls which shall be miraculously taken in England? I must bear witness that in England there are tokens full of hope. England never rejected the holy Catholic faith. A tyrannous and guilty king, a corrupt and covetous court, men full of the conceit of false learning, schemers and intriguers, men that hungered to spoil the Church for their own enrichment--these tyrannized over the people of England. The people of England held to their faith and died for it. The people of England never rejected it. They were robbed of it; they were deprived of their inheritance, and their children were born disinherited of their faith; every century from that hour to this they have gone farther and farther from the light of the one truth. Poor English people! Bear with them--I speak as an Englishman--bear with them; they know not what they do in believing that we worship images, that we imbrued our hands in the massacre of St. Bartholomew. Let the men who write these things look at their own hands; there is blood enough upon them. But the English people do not believe these things now; they are passed away. And there has come in the place of these impostures a desire after truth--"Only let me find it;" a craving after unity--"Can we never make an end of these divisions?" a thirsting for the presence of Jesus Christ upon the altar--"Where can I find Him?" And what are all these aspirations? They are the evidences of the good odor of life unto life. And if so, then, dear brethren, you that have the inheritance of faith are on your probation too. You are called to let the light of your faith shine like the day. The silent, penetrating, convincing light of a man who, knowing the faith, speaks it calmly, without controversy, without bickering, without contention, sheds a grace around him. As men that possess the greatest gift of God, and who desire to make everybody else share it to the full, so let your faith shine. And next, as you have faith, so you ought to have the warmth of charity. Where there is light, there is warmth; and where there is greater light there is greater warmth. Where there is perfect truth, there ought to be perfect charity. You who have the whole revelation of God ought to have the whole charity of God in you. Let your neighbors who are round about, even those who are not of the faith, feel that there is something in you--a warmth, a kindness, a sympathy and generosity which they find in no other man. And, lastly, let there be the fragrance of a holy life. This is the good odor of Christ unto God, and this diffuses life unto life wherever you go. You are upon this probation. Be worthy of the great gift which has been given to you. You have it in its fulness. Be then, worthy of its fulness, in faith and in charity. And now, dear brethren, in the midst of all the lordly triumph of the world, of all that which no doubt we shall hear to-morrow, be of good heart. As they said to the apostles so they will say to us: "If this be triumph, what can be defeat? We do not quarrel if you are content with these victories." Overhead there is a throne, and round about it are those whom no man can number; the powers and prerogatives of Him who sits upon that throne are working mightily in the world. There is one who sits above the water-flood, with all its confusions, whose voice penetrates through all the jangling contradictions of men. He is bringing to its fulfilment the purpose which from all eternity He has predestined. He knows His own by number and by name, and He will gather them out as the shepherd gathers his flock, and He will separate the goats from the sheep. He will reign until the whole of that work is accomplished. When it is done, and when the last of His elect has been gathered in, and the last of His redeemed has been made perfect, then He will manifest Himself to all men, and the world shall then know that He has triumphed always and in every place. PARK THE PROMINENCE OF THE ATONEMENT BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE EDWARDS AMASA PARK was born at Providence, R. I., in 1808. After a short pastorate of two years he became professor at Amherst, and subsequently at Andover Theological Seminary. He was one of the well-known exponents of the New England Calvinism, and his teachings had a wide influence over the ministers of his generation. His sermons, frequently rewritten, were marked by elegance of style and great moral force. Both as a preacher and teacher he showed largeness of view, depth of thought, and a rare facility of clear and powerful expression. He wrote a number of biographies and other works. He died in 1900. PARK 1808-1900 THE PROMINENCE OF THE ATONEMENT[1] [1] Printed here by kind permission of Messrs. W. F. Draper & Co., Andover Publishing House, Andover, Mass. _For I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified._--1 Corinthians ii., 2. Should the apostle who penned this eloquent expression resume his ministry on earth, and should he deign to hold converse with us on the principles of his high calling, and should he repeat his strong words, I am now, as of old, determined not to know anything among you save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified, some of us would feel an impulse to ask him: "Can your words mean what they appear to imply? You are learned in Rabbinical literature; you have read the Grecian poets, and even quoted from Aratus; you have examined the statuary of Greece, and have made a permanent record of an inscription upon an altar in ancient Athens; you have reasoned on the principles of Aristotle from effect to cause, and have taken rank with the philosophers, as well as orators of the world; and now, you seem to utter your determination to abandon all knowledge save that which concerns the Jew who was crucified. You once said that you had rather speak five words with the understanding, than ten thousand words in an unknown tongue; and here, lest the pithy language of this text should fail of being truly apprehended, we desire to learn its precise meaning in three particulars: "In the first place, do you intend to assert that our knowledge is controlled by our will? You determined not to know anything save one. Can you by mere choice expel all but one of your old ideas, and make your mind like a chart of white paper in reference to the vast majority of your familiar objects of thought?" "I am ready to concede," is the reply, "that much of our knowledge is involuntary; still a part of it is dependent on our will. In some degree, at some times, we may attend to a theme or not attend to it, as we choose, and thus our choice may influence our belief, and thus are we responsible, in a certain measure, for our knowledge. Besides, the word 'know' is used by us Hebraistic writers to include not only a mental apprehension, but also a moral feeling. When we know Christ, we feel a hearty complacence in Him. Again, to 'know' often signifies to manifest, as well as to possess, both knowledge and love. We do not know an old acquaintance when we of set purpose withhold all public recognition of him, and act outwardly as if we were inwardly ignorant of his being. But I, Paul, say to you, as I said to the Corinthians, that I shall make the atonement of Christ, and nothing but the atonement of Christ, the main theme of my regard, of my loving regard, and such loving regard as is openly avowed." Thus our first query is answered; but there is a second inquiry which some of us would propose to the apostle, were he uttering to us personally the words which he wrote to the Corinthians. It is this: "Should a Christian minister out of the pulpit, as well as in the pulpit, know nothing save the Crucified One? Did you not know how to sustain yourself by the manufacture of tents; and did you not say to the circle of elders at Ephesus, 'These hands have ministered to my necessities'? Did you not dispute with the Roman sergeants, plead your cause before the Roman courts? Must not every minister cease for a time to converse on the word of Jesus; and must he not think of providing for his own household, lest he become worse than an infidel?" "I am willing to admit," is the reply, "that the pulpit is the place where the minister should speak of Christ with more uniform distinctness than in other places; but there are no places, and no times, in which he should fail to manifest, more or less obviously, his interest in his Redeemer. Wherever he goes he has a pulpit. Whether he eat, or drink, or whatever he do, he must do all for the glory of God, and the highest glory of God is Christ, and the highest honor of Christ is in Him crucified. A minister must always respect the proprieties of life; in honoring them he knows that appropriate model Man who, rising from the tomb, wrapped up the napkin that was about His head, and laid it in a place by itself. Now the proprieties of life do require a minister to speak in the pulpit on themes more plainly and more easily connected with the atonement, than are various themes on which he must speak in the market-place or in the schools. But all subjects on which he may discourse do lead, sooner or later, more or less obviously and easily, to the great work of Jesus; and he should converse on them with the intent of seizing every hint they give him, following out every line to which they point him, in the direction of the cross. I have been in many synagogues, and in the temple, and on Mars' Hill, and on a Mediterranean ship-deck; and once I was hurried along in a night ride from Jerusalem to Cæsarea with four hundred and seventy soldiers, horsemen and spearmen. I have resided at leisure with my arm chained to a Roman guard in a prison at the capital of the Roman Empire; but in all such places I have felt, and everywhere I do feel, bound to speak out, and to act out, all the interest which the fitness of the occasion admits, in the atonement of Jesus; and not to manifest, and not to feel, any interest in any theme which may lessen my regard for this, the chiefest among ten thousand!" But there is a third question which some of us would propose to the apostle, were he to speak in our hearing the words of the text: "Should every man, as well as every minister, cherish and exhibit no interest in anything but Christ? Should a sailor at the masthead, a surgeon in the extirpation of the clavicle, a warrior in the critical moment of the last charge, look at nothing, and hear of nothing, but the cross? Must not everyone conduct business, and sustain cares, which draw his mind away from the atonement?" "I am ready to grant," is the reply, "that some duties are less plainly and less intimately connected than others with the work of Jesus; but all of them are connected with it in some degree, and this connection may be seen by all who choose to gain the fitting insight. The great principle of duty belonging to the minister in the pulpit, belongs to him everywhere; and the great principle of duty belonging to the minister, belongs to every man, woman, and child. There is not one religion for the man when he is in the temple, and another religion for the man when he is in the parlor or in the street. There is not one law for ordained pastor, and another law for the tradesman or the mechanic. The same law and no different one, the same religion and no different one, are the law and religion for the apostles, and publicans, and prophets, and tax gatherers, and patriarchs, and children, and nobles, and beggars. Every man is bidden to refuse everything, if it be the nearest friend, who interferes with the claims of the Messiah; and therefore every man, layman as well as clergyman, must keep his eye fixed primarily upon the cross. He may see other things within the range of that cross, but he must keep the cross directly at the angle of his vision, and allow nothing else, when placed side by side with the tree of Calvary, to allure his eye away from that central, engrossing object." Here, then, is our third question answered; and in these three replies to these three queries, we perceive the meaning of our text to be: that not on the first day only, but on every day likewise, not in the religious assembly only, but in all assemblies, and in all solitudes likewise, not the preacher only, but the hearer likewise, every man must adopt the rule, to give his voluntary, his loving, his secret and open regard to nothing so much as to the character and work of his Redeemer. Having inquired into the meaning of the apostle's words, let us proceed, in the next place, to inquire into the importance of making the atonement of Christ the only great object of our thought, speech and action. And here, did we hold a personal interview with the author of our text, we should be prompted to put three additional queries before him. Our first inquiry would be: "Is not your theme too contracted? It is well to know Christ, but in all the varying scenes of life is it well not to know anything else? Will not the pulpit become wearisome if, spring and autumn, summer and winter, it confine itself to a single topic? We have known men preach themselves out by incessant repetitions of the scene at Calvary,--a scene thrilling in itself, and on that very account not bearing to be presented in its details, every Sabbath day. How much less will the varying sensibilities of the soul endure the reiteration of this tragic tale every day and at every interview! Such extreme familiarity induces irreverence. The Bible is not confined to this theme. It is rich in ecclesiastical history, political history, ethical rules, metaphysical discussion, comprehensive theology. It contains one book of ten chapters which has not a single allusion to God, and several books which do not mention Christ; why then do you shut us up to a doctrine which will circumscribe the minds of good men, and result in making their conversation insipid?" "Contracted!"--this is the reply--"and you consider this topic a limited one, whose height, depth, length, breadth, no finite mind can measure? Of what would you speak?" "We would speak of the divine existence." "But Christ is the 'I am.'" "We would speak of the divine attributes." "But Christ is the Alpha and Omega; He searcheth the reins and trieth the hearts of men; He is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever; full of grace and truth; to Him belong wisdom and power and glory and honor; of His dominion is no end. Of what, then, would you speak?" "We would speak of the divine sovereignty." "But Christ taught us to say: Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight--and He and His Father are one." "We would converse on the divine decrees." "But all things are planned for His praise who was in Christ, and in whom Christ was at the beginning." "We would discourse on electing love." "But the saints are elect in Christ Jesus." "We would utter many words on the creation of men and angels." "Now by our Redeemer were all things created that are in heaven and that are in the earth, visible and invisible." "We would converse on the preservation of what has been created." "Now Christ upholdeth all things by the word of His power. What would you have, then, for your theme?" "We would take the flowers of the field for our theme." "But they are the delight, as well as the contrivance of the Redeemer." "We would take for our theme the globes in space." "But they are the work of His fingers." "Then we would take the very winds of heaven for our theme, lawless and erratic as they are." "But Jesus taught us to comment upon these as an illustration of His truth. His poetic mind gave us the conception that the wind bloweth where it chooseth to blow; and we look on, wondering whence it cometh, and whither it goeth, knowing only that it is the breath of the wonderful, the counselor, who arouseth it as He listeth, or saith, Peace, be still. What else, then, do you prefer for your topic of conversation?" "We prefer the laws of nature for our topic." "But in them the Father worketh and Christ worketh equally." "If it be so, we will select the fine and useful arts for our subject." "But all the materials of these arts and all the laws which compact them, and all the ingenuity which arranges them are of His architectonic plan. He is the guide of the sculptor, painter, musician, poet. He is the contriver of all the graces which we in our idolatry ascribe to the human discoverer, as if man had originally invented them. The history of the arts is the history of Christ's government on earth. Will you propose, then, some other theme for your remark?" "Do let us converse on the moral law." "You may; but Christ gave this law and came to magnify it." "Then let us comment on the ceremonial law." "You may; but all its types are prophecies of Jesus." "Then we will expatiate on virtue in the general." "Do so; but Christ is the first exemplar, the brightest representative of all abstract goodness, of all your virtue in the general." "Then we will take up the ethical maxims." "Take them up; but they are embodied in Him who is the way, the truth, the life." "We will resort, then, to human responsibility for our subject of discourse." "But we must all appear before the judgment seat of that fair-minded arbiter who is man as well as God." "May we not speak of eternal blessedness?" "Yes; but it is Christ who welcomes His chosen into life." "Shall we not converse, then, on endless misery?" "Yes; but it is Christ who will proclaim: Depart, ye cursed." "The human body; we would utter some words on that." "But your present body is the image of what your Lord wore once, and the body that you will have, if you die in the faith, is the image of what your Lord wears now; the image of the body slain for our offenses and raised again for our justification. And have you still a favorite theme which you have not suggested?" "The pleasures of life are our favorite theme." "Yes, and Jesus provided them and graced them at Cana." "The duties of the household are our favorite theme." "Yes, and Jesus has prescribed them and disciplines you by them, and will judge you for your manner of regarding them. What would you have, then, what can you think of for your choice topic of discourse?" "We love to talk of our brethren in the faith." "But they are the indices of Christ, and He is represented by them." "We choose to converse on our Redeemer's indigent, imprisoned, diseased, agonized followers." "And He is anhungered, athirst, penniless, afflicted in them, and whatsoever we do to one of them we do to Him, and what we say of one of them we say of Him." "May we speak in the pulpit of slaves?" "Of slaves! Can you not speak of Medes and Parthians, Indians and Arabians? Why not then of Africans? Have they, or have they not, immortal souls? Was Jesus, or was He not, crucified for them? Was He ashamed of the lowly and the down-trodden, and those who have become the reproach of men and the despised of the people? You may speak of all for whom Christ died; as all men, bond or free, and all things, globes or atoms, suggest thoughts leading in a right line or in a curved line to the cross of Christ. All things, being thus nearly or remotely suggestive of the atonement, are for your sakes; whether Paul or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to come,--all are yours, for your thoughts, for your words. If things pertain to the divine essence, the whole of that is the essence of Jesus; if they pertain to the divine relations, all of them are the relations of Jesus; if they pertain to the noblest and brightest features of seraphs, all the angels of God bow down before Jesus; if they pertain to the minutest changes of human life, in all our vicissitudes Jesus keeps up His brotherhood with us; if they pertain to the vilest and darkest spot of our depravity, they pertain to Jesus,--for to speak aright of sin is to be determined to speak of Christ and of Him crucified for sin. "And is this the doctrine which men call a contracted one? Narrow! The very suspicion of its being narrow has now suggested the first reason why you should place it and keep it as the crown of all your words and deeds--it is so large, so rich, so boundless, that you need nothing which excludes it. And therefore," continues the apostle, "I mean to know and to love nothing, and to make it manifest that I care for nothing, in comparison with, and disconnected from, the God-man, as He develops all His attributes and all His relations on the cross." But were the author of these laconic words in a familiar conference with us, we might be tempted to address to him a second inquiry: "Is not your theme too large? At first we deemed it too small, but now it swells out before us into such colossal dimensions that we change our ground, and ask: Can the narrow mind of man take in this multiplicity of relations, comprehended in both the natures, and in the redemptive, as well as all the other works of Christ? Do not frail powers need one day as a day of rest, and one place as a sanctuary of repose, from every thought less tender than that of the atoning death itself? Must we not call in our minds from Christ and Him crucified, so as to concentrate all our emotions on the simple fact of Christ crucified?" "Too large a theme!" this is the reply, "it is a large theme, too large to be fully comprehended by finite intelligences. Men have dreamed of exhausting the atonement by defining it to be a plan for removing the obstacles which stand in the way of our pardon. It is too large for that definition, as the atonement also persuades the Most High to forgive us. Then men have thought to mark it round about by saying that it is a scheme for inducing God to interpose in our aid. But the atonement is too large for that defining clause, as it also presents motives to man for accepting the interposition of God. Then some have thought to define it exactly, by saying that the atonement is both an appeal to the Lawgiver and also an appeal to the sinner. Too large still is the atonement for that explanation. It is an appeal to both God and man, but it is more. It is an appeal to the universe, and is as many-sided as the universe itself is to be variously affected. Can we by searching find out the whole of atoning love? It is the love of Him who stretched out His arms on the fatal wood, and pointed to the right hand and to the left hand, and raised His eyes upward, and cast them downward; and thus all things above and below, and on either side, He embraced in His comprehensive love. It is a large theme, but not too large to operate as a motive upon us. The immeasurable reach of a motive is the hiding of its power. The mind of man is itself expansive, and requires and will have something immense and infinite of truth or error, either overpowering it for good or overmastering it for evil. The atonement is a great theme, but not too great; and for the additional reason, its greatness lies, in part, in its reducing all other doctrines to a unity, its arranging them around itself in an order which makes them all easily understood. We know in other things the power of unity amid variety. We know how simple the geography of a land becomes by remembering that its rivers, altho meandering in unnumbered circuits around the hills and through the vales, yet pursue one main direction from one mountain to one sea. Now all the truths of God flow into the atonement. They are understood by means of it, because their tendencies are toward it; and it is understood by means of them, because it receives and comprehends them. "Consider more fully the first part of this sentence; all other truths are understood by means of the atonement. It gives to them all a unity by illustrating them all. Other truths are not so much independent themes, as they are branches growing up or sidewise out of this one root, and they need this single theme in order that their relations may be rightly understood. What, for example, can we know in its most important bearings, unless we know the history and office of our Redeemer? Begin from whatever point we may examine the uses of things, we can never measure their full utility until we view them from the cross. The trees bud and blossom. Why? To bear fruit for the sustenance of the human body. But is this an ultimate object? The nourishment of the body favors the growth of the mind. But is the human mind an end worthy of all the contrivances in nature? Does the sun, with all its retinue of stars, pursue its daily course with no aim ulterior to man's welfare? Do we adopt a Ptolemaic theory in morals, that man is the center of the system, and other worlds revolve round him? All things were made of God, as the Being in whom they all terminate. Do they exist for elucidating His power? This is not his chief attribute. His knowledge? There is a nobler perfection than omniscience. His love? But there is one virtue imbedded as a gem in His love, and His love is but a shining casket for this pearl of infinite price. This pearl is grace. This is the central ornament of the character of Jehovah. But there is no grace in Jehovah save as it beams forth in Christ; not in Christ as a mere Divinity, nor in Christ as a mere spotless humanity, but in the two united, and in that God-man crucified. All things were made by Him and for Him, rising from the cross to the throne. Without reference to Him in His atoning love has nothing been made that was made in this world. The star in the East led wise men once to the manger where the Redeemer lay; and all the stars of heaven lead wise men now to Him who had risen above the stars, and whose glory illumines them all. He is termed the Sun of righteousness; and, as the material sun binds all the planets around it in an intelligible order, so does Christ shine over, and under, and into, and through all other objects, attract them all to Himself, marshal them all into one clear and grand array, showing them all to be His works, all suggestive of our duty, our sin, our need of atonement, our dependence on the one God, and the one Mediator between God and man. "The first part of my sentence was, All other truths are understood by means of the atonement. Consider next the second part: The atonement is understood by means of other truths. It crystallizes them around itself, and reduces them into a system, not only because it explains them, but also because it makes them explain it. It is not too large a theme, for all the sciences and the arts bring their contributions to make it orderly and plain. Our text is a simple one, because its words are interpreted by a thousand facts shining upon it, and making themselves and it luminous in their radiations around and over it. Listen again to its suggestive words: "'For I determined not to know anything among you save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.' "Now, what is the meaning of this plain term 'Christ'? It means a 'King.' But how can we appreciate the King, unless we learn the nature of the beings over whom He rules? He reigns over the heavens; therefore we investigate the heavens. The whole earth is full of His glory; therefore we study the earth. He is the Lord over the angels; when we reflect on them, we catch a glimpse of Him in His regal state. He is the King of the Jews and the Gentiles. When we meditate on men, we enjoy a glance at Him who was born for this end, that He might have dominion over our race. When we contemplate the material worlds, all the vastness and the grandeur included in them--the sphere of mind, all the refinement and energy involved in it--we are overpowered by the reality, surpassing fable, that He who superintends all the movements of matter and first spake it into being and once framed, as He now governs, the souls of His creatures--He is the King who atoned for us; and the more we know of the stars in their courses, and of the spirit in its mysteries, so much the deeper is our awe in view of the condescending pity which moved their Creator to become one with a lowly creature acquainted with grief for you and me. So much is involved in the word 'Christ.' "But our text speaks of Jesus Christ. That word 'Jesus!' What is the meaning of it? It means a 'deliverer,' and in the view of some interpreters it means 'God, the deliverer.' Deliverer? From what? We do not understand the power of His great office, unless we learn the nature and the vileness of sin; and we have no conception how mean, how detestable, sin is, unless we know the needlessness of it, the nobleness of the will which degrades itself into it, the excellence of the law which is dishonored by it. All our studies, then, in regard to the nature of the will, the unforced voluntariness of depravity, the extent of it through our race, the depth of it, the purity of the commands aiming to prevent it, the attractions of virtue, the strangeness of their not prevailing over the temptations of vice--they are not mere metaphysics; they are studies concerning the truth and the grace of Immanuel, who is God with us, and whose name is 'Deliverer' because He delivers His people from their sins; sins involving the power and the penalty of free wrong choice; a penalty including the everlasting punishment of the soul; a punishment suggesting the nature and the character of the divine law, and the divine Lawgiver, in their relation to the conscience and all the sensibilities of the mind; and that mind, as undying as its Maker. All these things are comprehended in the word 'Jesus.' "But our text speaks of Jesus Christ and Him crucified: and this third term, 'crucified,' adds an emphasis to the two preceding terms, and stirs us up to examine our own capabilities--to learn the skill pervading our physical organism, so exquisitely qualified for pain as well as pleasure; the wisdom apparent in our mental structure, so keenly sensitive to all that can annoy as well as gratify; and thus we catch a glimpse of the truth, that He who combines all of our dignity with none of our guilt, and with all of the divine glory, and who thus develops all that is fit to be explained in man, and all that can be explained in God--He it is who chose to hang and linger with aching nerve and bleeding heart upon the cross for you and me. This cross makes out an atonement of the sciences and the arts and brings them also, as well as devout men, at one with God; all of them tributary to the doctrine that we are bought with a price--that we are redeemed, not with silver and gold, but with the precious blood of a man, who was God manifest in the flesh. Too large a theme is the atonement? But it breaks down the middle wall of partition that has kept apart the different studies of men; and it brings them together as illustrations of the truth, which in their light becomes as simple as it is great. "The very objection, then, that the redemptive work is too extensive for our familiar converse, has suggested the second reason why it should be the main thing for us to think upon, and speak upon, and act upon: It systematizes all other themes, and gains from them a unity which becomes the plainer because it is set off by a luminous variety; and for this cause," continues the apostle, "I intend to know nothing with supreme love, except this centralizing doctrine which combines all other truths into a constellation of glories." There is still a third inquiry which we might present to the author of our text, could we meet him in a personal colloquy: "Your words all converge toward one point; will they not then become monotonous, and inapposite to the varying wants of various, or even the same, individuals?" "A monotonous theme!" this is the reply: "What can be more diversified than the character and work of Him who is at one time designated as the omniscient God, and at another time as a Mechanic; at one time as a Judge, and at another time as an Intercessor; now a Lion, and then a Lamb; here a Vine, a Tree, there a Way, a Door; again a Stone, a Rock, still again a Star, a Sun; here without sin, and there He was made sin for us. "Monotonous is this theme? Then it is sadly wronged, and the mind of man is sadly harmed; for this mind shoots out its tendrils to grasp all the branches of the tree of life, and the tree in its healthy growth has branches to which every sensibility of the human mind may cling. The judgment is addrest by the atonement, concerning the nature of law of distributive justice, the mode of expressing this justice either by punishing the guilty or by inflicting pain as a substitute for punishment, the influence of this substitution on the transgressor, on the surety, on the created universe, on God Himself. There is more of profound and even abstruse philosophy involved in the specific doctrine of the atonement, than in any other branch of knowledge; and there has been or will be more of discussion upon it, than upon all other branches of knowledge; for sacred science is the most fruitful of all sciences in logical deduction, and this specific part of the science is the richest of all its parts. "Here, then, is the first method in which you may keep up the habit of making 'Jesus and Him crucified' the soul of your activity: Bring to your help the force of a resolute determination. There is a tendency in this resolute spirit to divert your thoughts from other themes, to turn the current of your sensibilities into the right channel, to invigorate your choice, to exert a direct and reflex influence in confirming the whole soul in Jesus. God is in that determination. He inspires it. He invigorates it. He works with it and by it. There is a power in it, but the power is not yours; it is the power of God. God is in every holy resolve of man." In our interview with the apostle we should address to him a second inquiry: "In what method can we avoid both the fact and the appearance of being slavishly coerced into the habit of conversing on Christ and on Christ alone? You speak of taking your stand, adhering to your decision; but this dry, stiff resolve-comes any genial spirit from it? Will you not be a slave to your unswerving purpose? Your inflexible rule, will it not be a hard one, wearisome to yourself, disagreeable to others? You hold up a weighty theme by a dead lift." "I am determined"--this is the reply--"and it is not only a strong but it is a loving resolve. For the love of Christ constraineth me; whom having not seen in the flesh I love; in whom, though now I see him not, yet believing, I rejoice with the joy unspeakable and full of glory. It is not a business-like resolution. It is not a diplomatic purpose. It is not a mechanical force. It is an affectionate decision. It is a joyous rule. It is the effluence of a supreme attachment to the Redeemer. "And this is the second method in which you may retain Jesus Christ as the jewel of your speech and life: Cherish a loving purpose to do so. A man has strength to accomplish what with a full soul he longs to accomplish. Your Christian toil will be irksome to you, if it be not your cordial preference; but if your undeviating resolve spring out of a hearty choice of your Savior, then will it be ever refreshed and enlivened by your outflowing, genial preference; then will your pious work be the repose of your soul. There is a power in your love to your work. It is a power to make your labor easy for yourself and attractive to others. This is not your power; it is the power of God. He enkindles the love within you. He enlivens it. He gives it warmth. He makes it instinct with energy. God is in all the holy joy of man." In our conference with the author of our text we might suggest to him our third and last inquiry: "In what method can we feel sure of persevering in this habitual exaltation of Christ? You speak of your stern purpose, but can you depend upon the continuance of it? You speak of your cordial as well as set resolve. But who are you? (forgive our pertinacious query). Jesus we know. But His disciples, His chief apostles--is not every one of them a reed shaken with the wind, tossed hither and thither, unstable as a wave upon the sea?" "I know it is so"--this is the reply. "Often am I afraid lest, having preached the gospel to others, I should be a castaway. And after all I am persuaded that nothing--height depth, life, death, nothing--shall be able to separate me from the love of Christ; for I put my confidence in Him, and while my purpose is inflexible and affectionate, it is also inwrought with trust in the atonement and the intercession. I do pursue my Christian life in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. For all the piety of the best of men is in itself as grass, and the goodliness thereof as the flower of the field. Therefore serve I the Lord with all humility of mind and with many tears and temptations. Yet I am determined with a confiding love. I am troubled on every side; my flesh has no rest; without are fightings, within are fears; in presence I am base among you, my bodily presence is weak and my speech contemptible; and if I must needs glory, I will glory in the things which concern my infirmities. Still, after all, I am determined, my right hand being enfolded in the hand of my Redeemer. I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day. For my conversation is in heaven, from whence I am to look for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our vile body that it may be fashioned like unto His glorious body, according to the mighty working whereby He is able to subdue all things unto Himself. I say the truth in Christ; I lie not; I am the least of the apostles, that am not meet to be called an apostle, because I injured the Church of God; I am less than the least of all saints. Still I am determined; for by the grace of God I am what I am; and this grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain, but I labored more abundantly than they all; yet not I but the grace of God which was with me; for I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me, and therefore I am determined. "Borne onward, therefore, by your fixed plan, and no one can succeed in anything without a plan, yet you must never rely ultimately upon your determined spirit. Allured further and further onward by your delight in your plan, and no one can work as a master in anything without enthusiasm in his prescribed course, still you must not place your final dependence upon your affectionate spirit; for if you take, for your last prop, either the sternness or the cheerfulness of your own determination, then you will know your determination, and you are not to know anything save Jesus Christ and Him crucified. Here, then, is the third method in which you may give the fitting prominence to the best of themes: You must rest for your chief and final support on Him and only on Him, from whom all wise plans start, by whom they hold out, and to whom they all tend, who is all and in all, Jesus Christ and Him crucified." My Christian brethren, you are all apostles. Every man, every woman, every child, the richest and the poorest, the most learned and the most ignorant of you--who have come up hither to dedicate yourselves and this sanctuary to your Lord, all being sent of Him to serve Him, have in fact and in essence the same responsibility resting on you as weighed on the author of our text. And he was burdened by the same kind of temptations and fears which oppress your spirit. But he was held up from failing in his work by a threefold cord; and that was his resolute determination, as loving as it was resolute, and as trustful as it was loving, to know nothing save Jesus Christ and Him crucified. The last that you hear of him as an impenitent man is in the words: "And Saul, yet breathing out threatening and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord." It was Christ whom the proud Jew last opposed. The first that you hear of him as a convicted man is in the words: "Who art thou, Lord?" It was Christ whom the inquiring Jew first studied. And the first that you hear of him as a penitent man is: "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" It was Christ to whom the humble disciple first surrendered his will. And the first that you hear of him as a Christian minister is: "And straightway he preached Christ in the synagogs that he is the Son of God." And the last that you hear of him as a Christian hero is: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course. I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness." And the secret of this victorious career is in words like those of our text: "I adhered to my plan (when among the fickle Corinthians), I was decided (when among the vacillating Galatians) to know nothing (when among the learned at Athens and them of Cæsar's household at Rome) save Jesus Christ (when I was among my own kinsmen who scorned Him), and Him crucified (when I was among the pupils of Gamaliel, all of whom despised my chosen theme); still I was determined to cling to that theme among the Greeks and the Barbarians, before Onesimus the slave and Philemon the proud master; for I loved my theme, and, suffering according to the will of God, I committed the keeping of my soul to Him in well-doing as unto a faithful Creator." And herein is it to be your plan, my brethren, and your joy, not to make this sanctuary the resort of wealth and of fashion, but rather of humble suppliants, who by their prayers may divert all the wealth and fashion of the world into the service of your Lord; not to make this temple the resting-place of hearers who shall idly listen to the words of an orator, but a temple of earnest coworkers with Christ--thinking of Him, speaking of Him, loving Him first, and last, and midst, and without end. As you come to this house of God on the Sabbath, as you go from it, as your week-day recollections gather around it, may you renew and confirm your plan to know your Redeemer, and not only to shut yourselves up to the supreme love of nothing except Christ, but also--His grace will be sufficient for you--to worship and serve Christ in the central relation of Him crucified. Knowing Him alone, He will sustain you as fully as if He knew you alone. He will come to you in this temple as frequently as if He had no other servants to befriend. He will listen to your prayers as intently as if no supplications came up to Him from other altars, and He will intercede for you as entirely as if He interceded in behalf of no one else; for remember, that when He hung upon the cross, He thought of you, and died for you, just as fully as if He had been determined to think of no one, and to die for no one, save you, whom He now calls to the solemn service of consecrating your own souls, and your "holy and beautiful house" to the glory of Jesus Christ and Him crucified. SIMPSON THE RESURRECTION OF OUR LORD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE MATTHEW SIMPSON, Methodist Episcopal Bishop, was born at Cadiz, Ohio, in 1810. He early distinguished himself as an orator, his style being that of spontaneous unpremeditated eloquence, in which he carried his congregation to heights of spiritual fervor and enthusiasm. He visited Europe in 1878 as delegate to the World's Evangelical Alliance in Berlin, which served to widen his reputation as a public speaker. He officiated at the funeral of Abraham Lincoln at Springfield, Illinois. His "Lectures on Preaching" delivered before the divinity students at Yale have been widely read. He died in 1884. SIMPSON 1810-1884 THE RESURRECTION OF OUR LORD _But now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the first fruits of them that slept._--1 Cor. xv., 20. A little more than eighteen hundred years ago, as the light of the morning was breaking around the walls of Jerusalem, there was a guard placed about a sepulcher in a small garden near the walls of the city. They were guarding a grave. Some strange scenes had occurred on the Friday before. While a man whom they had taken from the hills of Galilee and around the little lake of Capernaum had been hanging on the cross crucified as a malefactor, strange signs appeared in the heavens, and on the earth and in the temple. It was rumored that he had said he would rise the third morning. The third morning was coming, and as the light began to break in the East, there came two women silently and sadly wending their way among the tents that were pitched all around the city of Jerusalem; they had sojourned all night in the tents, for as yet the gates of the city had not been opened. They came to see the sepulcher and were bringing spices in their hands. They loved the man who had been crucified as a malefactor, because of his goodness, his purity, and his compassion. They seemed to be almost the only hearts on earth that did love him deeply, save the small circle of friends who had gathered around him. There had been curses upon his head as he hung on the cross--curses from the by-standers, curses from the soldiers, curses from the people. They cried: "Away with him; his blood be on us and on our children!" and on that morning there were none but a few feeble, obscure, heart-broken friends that dared to come near his grave. A little more than eighteen hundred years have passed and on the anniversary of that day, the morning of the first day of the week, the first Sabbath after the full moon and the vernal equinox, at the same season, the whole world comes to visit that grave. The eyes of princes and of statesmen, the eyes of the poor and the humble in all parts of the earth are turned toward that sepulcher. All through Europe men and women are thinking of that grave and of Him who lay in it. All over western lands, from ocean to ocean, on mountain top and in valley, over broad prairies and deep ravines, the eyes and hearts of the people are gathered round that grave. In the darkness of Africa, here and there, we see them stretching out their hands toward it. Along the coasts of India and the heights of the Himalayas they have heard of that grave and are bending toward it. The Chinese, laying aside their prejudices, have turned their eyes westward and are looking toward that sepulcher. Along the shores of the seas, over the mountain tops and in the valleys, the hearts of the people have not only been gathering around that grave, but they have caught a glimpse of the rising inmate who ascended in His glory toward heaven. The song of jubilee has gone forth, and the old men are saying, "The Lord is risen from the dead." The young men and matrons catch up the glowing theme, and the little children around our festive boards, scarcely comprehending the source of their joy, with glad hearts are now joyful, because Jesus has risen from the dead. All over the earth tidings of joy have gone forth, and as the valleys have been ringing out their praises on this bright Sabbath morning how many hearts have been singing-- "Our Jesus is going up on high!" Why this change? What hath produced such a wonderful difference in public feeling? The malefactor once curst, now honored; the obscure and despised, now sought for; the rising Redeemer, not then regarded by men, now universally worshiped. What is the cause of this great change?--how brought about? The subject of this morning, taken from the associations of this day, call us to consider as briefly as we may the fact of the resurrection of Christ from the dead and some of the consequences which flow to us from that resurrection. It is important for us to fix clearly in our minds the fact that this is one reason why such days are remembered in the annals of the Church as well as in the annals of nations; for our faith rests on facts, and the mind should clearly embrace the facts that we may feel that we are standing on firm ground. This fact of the resurrection of Christ is the foundation of the Christian system; for the apostle says: "And if Christ be not raised, your faith is vain, ye are yet in your sins; then they also which are fallen asleep in Christ will perish." If Christ be not risen, we shall never see the fathers and the mothers who have fallen asleep in Jesus; we shall never see the little ones who have gone up to be, as we believe, angels before the throne of God. If Christ be not raised, we are of all men the most miserable, because we are fancying future enjoyment, which never can be realized; but if Christ be raised, then shall we also rise, and them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him. And that our minds may rest as to the fact of Christ's resurrection, let us notice how God hath arranged the evidences to secure the knowledge of this fact clearly to man. The first point to which our attention is invited is the fact of Christ's death. Were not this fact clearly established it would be in vain to try to prove His resurrection from the dead. Christ might have suffered for man in some obscure place; He might have laid down His life as a ransom, and yet there would have been no legal evidence of it. God allowed the wrath of man to become the instrument of praising Him, in that He suffered Christ to be taken under what was then the legal process--arrested first by the great council of the Jews, and then by the authority of the Roman governor, so that the matter became of public record--a legal transaction. The highest power, both of the Jewish and Roman governments, united in this fact of His arrest, His trial, and His condemnation to death. Not only was this permitted, but the time of the occurrence was wisely arranged. It was at the feast of the Jews, the Passover, when all the Jews came up to keep the Passover. They came not only from Egypt but from all the country through which they were scattered. Jerusalem could not hold the people that came together; they pitched their tents all around the city, on the hills and in the valleys. It was the time of full moon, when there was brightness all night, and they came together with safety and security. The multitude, then, was there to witness the scene, so that it might be attested by people from all parts of Judea and from all countries round about Judea. Then, again, the form of the death was such as to be not a sudden one, but one of torture, passing through many hours. Had the execution been a very sudden one, as it might have been, the death would have been equally efficacious, yet it would not have been witnessed by so many; but as He hung those dreadful hours, from nine until three, the sun being darkened, what an opportunity was given to the people passing by to be imprest with the scene! The crucifixion was near the city; the crowd was there; the temple worship was in process; the strangers were there; and as one great stream passes on some festive day through the great thoroughfare of your city, so passed the stream of men, women, and children by that cross on which the Savior hung. They wagged their heads and reviled as they passed by. The very ones whom Jesus had healed, whose fathers had been cured of leprosy or fever, whose mothers' eyes had been opened; the ones who had been raised up from beds of sickness by the touch of that Savior, passed by and reviled, and said: "He saved others, Himself He cannot save." The multitude saw Him as He hung suffering on the cross. Then, again, the circumstances attending His death were such as to invite universal attention. It was not designed that the death should be a private one; not merely a legal transaction, a matter soon over, but a protracted and agonizing spectacle--one to be seen and known by the multitude; but, in addition, that man's attention should be drawn to something to be connected with that wonderful scene; hence God called upon the heavens and the earth, the air and the graves, and the temple itself for testimony. It is said that before the coronation of a prince in olden time in Europe--and in some kingdoms the custom is still observed--there is sent forth a herald, sometimes three days in advance, at different periods according to the custom, to issue a challenge to anyone that dares to claim the kingdom to come and prove his right, and to announce that the coronation of this prince is to take place. Methinks it was such a challenge God gave to all the powers of humanity and to all the powers of darkness. There hung suffering on the cross He who died for human wo, and as He hung God was about to crown Him King of Kings and Lord of Lords on the morning of the third day. He sends forth His voice of challenge, and as He speaks the earth rocks to its center; that ground, shaking and convulsing, was a call to man to witness what was about to occur. Not only is there a voice of earth. Yonder the sun clothed himself in sackcloth for three hours, as much as to say: "There may be gloom for three days; the great Source of light hath veiled Himself, as in a mantle of night, for three days. As for three hours this darkness hangs, but as out of the darkness the light shines forth, so at the end of the three days shall the Sun of Righteousness shine out again, the great center of glory, with that glory which He had with the Father from the foundation of the world." It was the herald's voice that passed through the heavens, and that spoke through all the orbs of light, "Give attention, ye created beings, to what is to happen!" But it was not alone in the earth, which is the great center, nor in the heavens, which is the great source of light, that the tidings were proclaimed. Look in yonder valley. The tombs are there; the prophets have been buried there. Yon hillside is full of the resting-places of the dead; generations on generations have been buried there; friends are walking in it, and they are saying, "Yonder is a mighty judge in Israel; there is the tomb of a prophet." They were passing to and fro through that valley of death when the earthquake's tread was heard, and behold! the tombs were opened, the graves displayed the dead within, and there was a voice that seemed to call from the very depths of the graves, "Hear, O sons of men!" What feelings must have thrilled through the hearts of those who stood by those monuments and bended over those graves, when, thrown wide open, the doors bursting, and the rocks giving way, they saw the forms of death come forth and recognized friends that once they had known. What was to occur? What could all this mean? Then the great sacrifice was offered. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Christ was to give up the ghost. Yonder the multitude of pious people were gathered toward the temple. The outer court was full; the doors and gates which lead into the sanctuary were crowded; the lamb was before the altar; the priest in his vestments had taken the sacrificial knife; the blood was to be shed at the hour of three; the multitude were looking. Yonder hangs a veil; it hides that inner sanctuary; there are cherubim in yonder with their wings spread over the mercy-seat; the shekinah once dwelt there; God Himself in His glory was there and the people are bending to look in. No one enters into that veil save the high priest, and he, with blood and in the midst of incense, but once a year; but it was the mercy-seat and the eye of every pious Jew was directed toward that veil, thinking of the greater glory which lay beyond it. As the hour of three came and as the priest was taking the sacrificial knife from the altar and was about to slay the lamb, behold! an unseen hand takes hold of that veil and tears it apart from top to bottom, and has thrown open the mercy-seat, not before seen by men. The cherubim are there; the altar with its covering of blood is there; the resting-place of the ark is there; it is the holiest of holies. Methinks the priest drops the knife, the lamb goes free, for the Lamb that was slain from the foundation of the world is suffering for man. The way to the holy of holies is open,--a new and living way, which men may not close, which priest alone can not enter; but a way is open whereby humanity, opprest and downtrodden, from all parts of the earth, may find its way to the mercy-seat of God. There was a call to the pious worshiper by voices which seemed to say: "An end to all the sacrifices, an end to all the suffering victims, an end to all the sprinkled hyssop that is used in purification, for One has come to do the will of God on whom the burden of man had been laid." Now here were all these calls to humanity from all parts, as if to announce the great transaction. While all this was occurring Christ was on the cross, suffering the agony of crucifixion. How deep that agony we need not attempt to tell you; it was fearful; and yet no complaint escaped His lips, no murmuring was there. He bore the sins of many in His own flesh on the tree. He heard the multitudes revile Him; He saw them wag their heads; He remembered that the disciples had fled from Him--one followed afar off, but the rest had gone; and yet He complained not. Friends and kindred had all left Him and He trod the wine-press alone. He drank the cup in all its bitterness and no complaint escaped from Him. One left Him that had never forsaken Him before. "The world is gone, the disciples I have fed and taught have all fled and passed away,--all have forsaken Me." But there was no time until that moment of fearful darkness came, when all the load of guilt was upon Him and for our sins He was smitten, that His spirit was crusht, and He called out, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" All else might go--it were little; "Why hast thou forsaken me?" But it is over; the darkness is past; the load is borne; and I hear Him say, "It is finished"; He bows His head and dies. Now there is publicity for the transaction. It demanded public investigation, it received it. There was not only the mental agony united with the agony of crucifixion, but there was the voluntary giving up of His life; yet, lest there might be some suspicion, to all this was added the proof of the fact of His death. When the limbs of the others were broken and He was perceived to be dead, the soldier thrust the spear into His side and there came out of that side both water and blood. There is a peculiarity in the sacred writings. A little incident that seems to be mentioned without care becomes the strongest possible proof, not only of the fact of Christ's death, but of the nature of His death. When that sentence was written the human frame was not understood, the circulation of the blood was not understood. Anatomists had not then, as they have now, unveiled the human system; the great science of pathology had not yet been clearly taught to man; and yet in that sentence we have almost a world of meaning. For it is well attested now that where persons die from violent mental emotion, by what is termed a broken heart, a crusht spirit, there is always formed a watery secretion around the heart. It was not known then to the soldier who lifted up the spear and pierced the body; but so much of that water had secreted around the heart that he saw it issuing forth from the pierced side, unstained by blood, which showed that the great heart had been crusht by agony within. When taken from the cross He was put in the sepulcher. His friends had given Him up, His disciples had forsaken Him; some of them saw Him die; they knew that He was crucified and they abandoned Him. They were returning to their former employments; but His enemies remembered He had said He would rise the third day, and they put a guard around Him. The Roman soldiers were there; the king's seal was on the stone rolled over the mouth of the sepulcher; they made everything secure. Here again God ordered that we should have abundant proof of Christ's crucifixion. He was crucified on Friday, which was to them the last day of the week, resting in the grave on our Saturday, which is their Sabbath, and then comes the first day of the week, our Sabbath morning, made our Sabbath because of Christ's resurrection from the dead. There came an humble visitant to the tomb, Mary Magdalene; she had been healed of much, forgiven much and she loved Him. Mary, the mother of James, came also and beheld the scenes that occurred; but there had been strange commotions elsewhere. Heaven had been gathering around that grave. Angels had been watching there; they had seen the Roman guard; they had seen the shining spear and polished shield; they had seen that Christ was held as a prisoner by the greatest powers on earth. Methinks I see the angelic host as they gathered round the throne of God and looked up into the face of Omnipotence, and if ever there was a time when there was silence in heaven for half an hour, it was before the morning light of the third day dawned. I hear them say "How long shall man triumph? How long shall human power exalt itself? How long shall the powers of darkness hold jubilee? Let us away and roll away the stone; let us away and frighten yonder Roman guard and drive them from the sepulcher." They waited until permission was given. I see the angel coming down from the opening doors of glory; he hastens outside the walls of Jerusalem and down to the sepulcher; when they saw him coming the keepers shook, they became like dead men; he rolls away the stone and sets himself by the mouth of the sepulcher. Christ, girding Himself with all the power of His divinity, rises from the grave. He leads captivity captive, tears the crown from the head of death, and makes light the darkness of the grave. Behold Him as He rises just preparatory to His rising up to glory. Oh, what a moment was that! Hell was preparing for its jubilee; the powers of earth were preparing for a triumph; but as the grave yields its prey, Christ, charged with being an impostor, is proved to be the Son of God with power; it is the power of His resurrection from the dead. There was Christ's resurrection from the dead. He became the first fruits of them that slept. But to give the amplest proofs of His resurrection He lingered on earth to be seen of men, and to be seen in such a manner as to show that He was still the Savior Christ. In my younger days I used to often wonder why was it that Mary Magdalene came first to the sepulcher, and the mother of James that stood there--why He should appear to them; but in later days I have said it was to show that He was the Savior still; that the same nature was there which had made Him stoop to the lowliest of the low--the power that enabled Him to heal the guiltiest of the guilty; that that power, that compassion, were with Him still. Tho now raised beyond death and triumphing over hell, He still had within Him the Savior's heart. Methinks I see, when Peter had run in anxiety to tell the news, Mary remained there; she could not fully comprehend it; the grave was open, the napkins were there; it was said He was not there, but He was risen. And yet, there was a darkness upon her; she could not fully conceive, it seems to me, the resurrection of the dead. She stood wondering, when she heard a voice behind her which said, "Woman, why weepest thou?" Bathed in tears as she was, she turned round and saw the man standing, and taking him to be the gardener, and supposing that he had taken the body and carried it away as not fit to lie in that tomb or be in that garden, she said: "If thou hast taken, him away, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away." If He must not lie in this tomb, if He can not lie in the garden, if as a malefactor He must be cast out from man, tell me where the body is and I will take it away. It was a proof of her affection. A voice said, "Mary, Mary." Oh, she recognized it, and her heart cried out: "Rabboni, my Lord and my God!" and then she would have thrown herself at His feet and bathed those feet again with her tears, but He said, "Touch me not, I am not ascended to my Father; go and tell the disciples and Peter that I am risen from the dead." See the compassion of the Savior! and then that message! "Tell the disciples and Peter." Why send a message to him? Because he curst and swore and denied the Master. The other disciples might have said, "If Christ is risen, He may receive and bless us all; but Peter is gone, hopelessly and irretrievably gone; he that forsook his Master and denied Him, there is no hope for him." And yet said Jesus, "Go and tell the disciples and Peter"--poor backslidden Peter. Jesus knew his sorrow and anguish and almost felt the throbbings of his broken heart, and He sent a message to Peter. He may be a disciple still--may come back and be saved through the boundless love of Christ. Oh, the compassion of the Son of God! Thank God that Peter's Savior is on the throne this morning! Not only was He seen by these, but He met with the disciples journeying by the way and explained the Scriptures to them; and as they met in the upper room He was there. When the doors were unopened He came in their midst and said, "Peace!" breathed on them and said, "Receive ye the Holy Ghost." Thus He met with them and said to Thomas, "Reach hither thy fingers, and be not faithless but believing." Then afterward He was seen by five hundred, and from the Mount of Olives, while the disciples were gathered around Him, He was received up into glory. They saw Him and as He went He blest them. The last vision that ever humanity had of the Son of God ere he ascended to heaven was that of spreading out His hands in blessing. Oh, my Savior hath thus gone up, and He dropt from those outstretched hands a blessing which falls to-day like the gentle dew all over the earth; it reaches heart after heart. It hath reached patriarchs, apostles, martyrs, fathers, and mothers and little children, and, thank God, the heavenly dew, as from those outstretched hands, is coming down on our assembly this very morning. On this glad day blessings are dropping from the throne of God upon us from this risen Savior. He hath ascended up on high, the gates have opened for Him, and He hath gone to His throne in glory. Let us look at a few of the results that flow to us from these facts thus sustained of His death and resurrection from the dead! In the first place it established all Bible declarations. It had been predicted that He should not stay in the grave, and when He arose it put the seal to the Old Testament as the Word of God. The prophecy in Him fulfilled gave glorious proof that the other parts of it should be also fulfilled as the word of an unchanging God. Again, in His resurrection we see a proof of His divine power. No man hath been raised from the dead by his own power. All died, from Adam to Moses, with the exception of Enoch and Elijah, who, because of their devotion and acknowledgment of the divine head, themselves became prophets of a coming Savior. He rose by His own power. He conquered death itself, the grave, and the whole powers of humanity. Jupiter is represented by an old classic writer as saying to the lesser gods that if all of them combined together and should endeavor to throw down his throne--if all power was arrayed against him--he, by his own might, would be able to overcome them all. What was fiction with the ancients becomes gloriously realized in Christ. Take all the powers of humanity--the Jewish power, the Roman power; the power of learning, of art, of public opinion; take all the powers of earth and hell, death and the grave, and combine them all against the Savior and, without one effort, without one single apparent movement--the Sleeper lies in death, His eyes are sealed, and, as if all unconscious, for the warning had not been given before--in an instant those eyes were opened, that frame rises, the grave yields up its prey, death retires conquered, and Christ demonstrates Himself to be the ruler of the whole universe. He made the earth to tremble, the sun to put on sackcloth, the very air to grow dark, the graves to open, the dead to come forth, and proclaimed Himself to be the conqueror of death and hell. So we have proof of His being the Son of God with power. In that resurrection from the dead we have a pledge of our own resurrection. Christ has become the first-fruits of them that slept. You know the figure of the first-fruits as understood by the Jews. Their religion was connected with the seasons of the year--with the harvest crops; one of their feasts was called the feast of the first-fruits, and was on this wise: When the first heads of grain began to ripen in the field, and there was thus a pledge of harvest, they cut off those first ripened heads and went up to Jerusalem. Before that the grain was not crusht, no bread was baked out of it, and nothing was done to appropriate that crop to man's use until those ripened heads of grain were brought up to Jerusalem and presented to the Lord as a thank-offering. He was acknowledged as Lord of the harvest and they were laid up as a kind of thank-offering before God. They were the first-fruits. Then they went away to the fields and all through Judea the sickle was thrust in, the grain was reaped and gathered into sheaves, and when the harvest was secured they baked the bread for their children out of this first grain. They came up to the temple, where the first-fruits had been laid, and they held a feast of thanksgiving and shouted harvest home. The old harvest feast seems to be descended from this ancient custom. Christ rose as the first-fruits, and there is to be a glorious resurrection. Christ came, the first man to rise in this respect, by His own power, from the grave, having snatched the crown from death, having thrown light into the grave, having Himself ascended up toward glory. He goes up in the midst of the shouts of angels; the heavens open before Him; yonder is the altar; there is the throne, and around it stand the seraphim and the cherubim; and Christ enters, the victor, and sits down upon the throne, from henceforth expecting until His enemies be made His footstool. He is the first-fruits of the harvest, but the angels are to be sent out like the reapers, and by and by humanity is coming. As Christ, the first-fruits, passed through the grave and went up to glory, so there shall come forth from their sleeping dust in Asia, in Africa, in Europe, and in America, from every mountain top, from the depths of the sea, from deep ravines, and from plains outspread--oh, there shall come in the time of the glorious harvest--the uprising of humanity, when all the nations, waking from their long sleep, shall rise and shall shout the harvest home! Thank God! At that time none shall be wanting. Oh, they come, they come, from the nations of the past and from the generations yet unborn! I see the crowd gathering there. Behold the angels are waiting, and as the hosts rise from the dead they gather round the throne. Christ invites His followers to overcome and sit down with Him on His throne, as He overcame and sat down with the Father on His throne. In that is the pledge of our resurrection from the dead. Can I not suffer, since Christ suffered? Can I not die, since Christ died? Let the grave be my resting-place, for Christ rested there. Is it cold? The warmth of His animation is in it. He shall be beside me in all His spirit's power. Does the load of earth above me and beneath which I am placed press upon me? Christ hath power to burst the tomb, tho deep it be, and I shall rise through His almighty power. Yet, let the malice of men be directed against me; let me be taken, if it must be, as a martyr and be bound to the stake; let the fagots be kindled, let the flame ascend, let my body be burned; gather my ashes, grind my bones to powder, scatter them on the ocean's surface; or carry those ashes to the top of yonder volcano and throw them within its consuming fire--let them be given to the dust--and yet I can sing: "God my Redeemer lives, And ever from the skies Looks down and watches all my dust, Till He shall bid it rise." Thank God! it may be scattered on the wings of the wind--Christ is everywhere present; He has marked every particle and it shall rise again by His own almighty power. And what is it to sleep awhile if I am Christ's? To die, if I am like Christ in dying? and be buried, if I am like Christ in being buried? I trust I shall be like Him when He comes forth in His glory. I shall be like Him, for the apostle says, "We shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is"; "We shall be changed from glory into glory, into the same image as by the Spirit of God." It would be a great change to be changed from glory to glory, from saints to angels, from angels to cherubim, from cherubim to seraphim, from glory to glory; but, thank God! we shall not stop being changed; for the change shall go on from glory to glory until we shall be transformed into the likeness of the Son of God, brighter than angels ever shone, more glorious than were ever cherubim. We shall be near the throne; we shall sit beside Him, for He hath made room for us there. Then, if we can calmly look at death and face him, because his strength has been overcome, it reconciles us to parting a little while with friends. A father or a mother may be taken from us, but we shall see them again; they shall not sleep forever. The little ones that drop from our arms, we can almost see them this morning; some of us can almost feel them in our arms--can see the glance of that beautiful eye and hear the sound of that little prattling lip; they seem to be with us now, as a little while ago they dropt from out of our arms. We followed them to the grave and left them there, where the winter's storm has been howling around them. Sometimes loneliness like that terrible storm has swept over our hearts and left them almost in despair; but through Christ's resurrection we see our children yonder in glory, safe in the Savior's arms. Their little forms shall rise all-glorious from the tomb in the morning of the resurrection; we shall find them, for Jesus is the resurrection and the life. All this comes to us from the resurrection of Christ from the dead. He died once; He dies no more; the condemnation of death is forever gone; He sits on the throne of everlasting dominion; His kingdom is an eternal kingdom; and as He died once and has risen to die no more, so when we have died once and gone to the grave and entered the dark valley and shadow of death, and we come up safely on the other side, thank God! death is passed forever; we shall then put our feet on the neck of the monster and shall be able to say: "Oh death, where is thy sting? Oh grave, where is thy victory?" Looking at the resurrection of Christ we exclaim, Thanks be unto God who hath given us the victory! Such is the eternity and blessedness that awaits us. Thank God for a spiritual body! Here some of us long to triumph over nature. We would grasp, if we could, angelic wisdom; but our brows will ache with pain, our frames decay, our eyes grow dim, our hearing fail. This flesh of ours will not stand hours of painful study and seasons of protracted labor; but, thank God! when the body that now oppresses us is laid in the grave a spiritual body will be given to us, pure, ethereal, and holy. Oh, what an extent of knowledge shall flash upon us; what light and glory; what spirituality and power! Then we shall not need to ask an angel anything. We shall know as we are known. Jesus will be our teacher; the Everlasting God, the Man whose name is Wonderful, the Counselor, the Prince of Peace. He Himself shall be our Leader. We shall know then as also we are known. Then rejoice in God. Dry up those tears. Cast away that downcast look. Child of the dust, you are an heir of glory. There is a crown all burnished for you; there is a mansion all ready for you; there is a white robe prepared for you; there is eternal glory for you; angels are to be your servants and you are to reign with the King of Kings forever. But while you wait on earth, be witnesses for God; attest the glory of your Master; rise in the greatness of His strength; bind sin captive to your chariot wheels; go onward in your heavenly career, and be as pure as your ascended Head is pure. Be active in works of mercy; be angels of light; be names of fire; go on your mission of mercy and convert the world unto God before you go up higher. When you go, not only go forward to present yourself, but may every one of you be able to say: "Here am I and those which Thou hast given me." THEODORE PARKER THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT IN CHRISTIANITY BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE THEODORE PARKER, American divine and reformer, was born at Lexington, Mass., in 1810. He was educated at Harvard and graduated from the Divinity School of that University in 1836. The following year he was ordained pastor of Roxbury Christian Church, and first attracted attention by his sermon on the "Transient and Permanent in Christianity," preached in 1841. This sermon was ultimately the cause of his practical exclusion from the Unitarian body, and in 1846 he became minister to the Twenty-eighth Congregational Society in Boston. In this pastorate he became well known to all denominations from the remarkable sermons he preached for seven years in Music Hall. He died of consumption at Florence, Italy, in 1860. His powerful intellect and vigorous eloquence were exhibited in the many controversial sermons he preached, both as a believer in the nonsupernaturalism of present Christianity and as a practical humanitarian. He figured as one of the leading abolitionists of New England. THEODORE PARKER 1810-1860 THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT IN CHRISTIANITY _Heaven and earth shall pass away; but my words shall not pass away._--Luke xxi., 33. In this sentence we have a very clear indication that Jesus of Nazareth believed the religion He taught would be eternal, that the substance of it would last forever. Yet there are some who are affrighted by the faintest rustle which a heretic makes among the dry leaves of theology; they tremble lest Christianity itself should perish without hope. Ever and anon the cry is raised, "The Philistines be upon us, and Christianity is in danger." The least doubt respecting the popular theology, or the existing machinery of the Church; the least sign of distrust in the religion of the pulpit, or the religion of the street, is by some good men supposed to be at enmity with faith in Christ, and capable of shaking Christianity itself. On the other hand, a few bad men, and a few pious men, it is said, on both sides of the water, tell us the day of Christianity is past. The latter, it is alleged, would persuade us that hereafter piety must take a new form; the teachings of Jesus are to be passed by; that religion is to wing her way sublime, above the flight of Christianity, far away, toward heaven, as the fledged eaglet leaves forever the nest which sheltered his callow youth. Let us therefore devote a few moments to this subject, and consider what is transient in Christianity, and what is permanent therein. * * * * * In actual Christianity,--that is, in that portion of Christianity which is preached and believed,--there seems to have been, ever since the time of its earthly Founder, two elements, the one transient, the other permanent. The one is the thought, the folly, the uncertain wisdom, the theological notions, the impiety of man; the other, the eternal truth of God. These two bear, perhaps, the same relation to each other that the phenomena of outward nature, such as sunshine and cloud, growth, decay and reproduction, bear to the great law of nature, which underlies and supports them all. As in that case more attention is commonly paid to the particular phenomena than to the general law, so in this case more is generally given to the transient in Christianity than to the permanent therein. It must be confest, tho with sorrow, that transient things form a great part of what is commonly taught as religion. An undue place has often been assigned to forms and doctrines, while too little stress has been laid on the divine life of the soul, love to God, and love to man. Religious forms may be useful and beautiful. They are so, whenever they speak to the soul, and answer a want thereof. In our present state some forms are perhaps necessary. But they are only the accident of Christianity, not its substance. They are the robe, not the angel, who may take another robe quite as becoming and useful. One sect has many forms; another, none. Yet both may be equally Christian, in spite of the redundance or the deficiency. They are a part of the language in which religion speaks, and exist, with few exceptions, wherever man is found. In our calculating nation, in our rationalizing sect, we have retained but two of the rites so numerous in the early Christian Church, and even these we have attenuated to the last degree, leaving them little more than a specter of the ancient form. Another age may continue or forsake both; may revive old forms, or invent new ones to suit the altered circumstances of the times, and yet be Christians quite as good as we, or our fathers of the dark ages. Whether the apostles designed these rites to be perpetual seems a question which belongs to scholars and antiquarians,--not to us, as Christian men and women. So long as they satisfy or help the pious heart, so long they are good. Looking behind or around us, we see that the forms and rites of the Christians are quite as fluctuating as those of the heathens, from whom some of them have been, not unwisely, adopted by the earlier Church. Any one, who traces the history of what is called Christianity, will see that nothing changes more from age to age than the doctrines taught as Christian, and insisted on as essential to Christianity and personal salvation. What is falsehood in one province passes for truth in another. The heresy of one age is the orthodox belief and "only infallible rule" of the next. Now Arius, and now Athanasius, is lord of the ascendant. Both were excommunicated in their turn, each for affirming what the other denied. Men are burned for professing what men are burned for denying. For centuries the doctrines of the Christians were no better, to say the least, than those of their contemporary pagans. The theological doctrines derived from our fathers seem to have come from Judaism, heathenism, and the caprice of philosophers, far more than they have come from the principle and sentiment of Christianity. The doctrine of the Trinity, the very Achilles of theological dogmas, belongs to philosophy and not religion; its subtleties cannot even be expressed in our tongue. As old religions became superannuated, and died out, they left to the rising faith, as to a residuary legatee, their forms and their doctrines; or rather, as the giant in the fable left his poisoned garment to work the overthrow of his conqueror. Many tenets that pass current in our theology seem to be the refuse of idol temples, the offscourings of Jewish and heathen cities rather than the sands of virgin gold which the stream of Christianity has worn off from the rock of ages, and brought in its bosom for us. It is wood, hay, and stubble, wherewith men have built on the corner-stone Christ laid. What wonder the fabric is in peril when tried by fire? The stream of Christianity, as men receive it, has caught a stain from every soil it has filtered through, so that now it is not the pure water from the well of life which is offered to our lips, but streams troubled and polluted by man with mire and dirt. If Paul and Jesus could read our books of theological doctrines, would they accept as their teaching what men have vented in their name? Never, till the letters of Paul had faded out of his memory, never, till the words of Jesus had been torn out from the book of life. It is their notions about Christianity men have taught as the only living word of God. They have piled their own rubbish against the temple of truth where piety comes up to worship; what wonder the pile seems unshapely and like to fall? But these theological doctrines are fleeting as the leaves on the trees. They-- "Are found Now green in youth, now withered on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise." Like the clouds of the sky, they are here to-day; to-morrow, all swept off and vanished; while Christianity itself, like the heaven above, with its sun, and moon, and uncounted stars, is always over our head, tho the cloud sometimes debars us of the needed light. It must of necessity be the case that our reasonings, and therefore our theological doctrines, are imperfect, and so perishing. It is only gradually that we approach to the true system of nature by observation and reasoning, and work out our philosophy and theology by the toil of the brain. But meantime, if we are faithful, the great truths of mortality and religion, the deep sentiment of love to man and love to God, are perceived intuitively, and by instinct, as it were, tho our theology be imperfect and miserable. The theological notions of Abraham, to take the story as it stands, were exceedingly gross, yet a greater than Abraham has told us, "Abraham desired to see my day, saw it, and was glad." Since these notions are so fleeting, why need we accept the commandment of men as the doctrine of God? This transitoriness of doctrines appears in many instances, of which two may be selected for a more attentive consideration. First, the doctrine respecting the origin and authority of the Old and New Testaments. There has been a time when men were burned for asserting doctrines of natural philosophy which rested on evidence the most incontestable, because those doctrines conflicted with sentences in the Old Testament. Every word of that Jewish record was regarded as miraculously inspired, and therefore as infallibly true. It was believed that the Christian religion itself rested thereon, and must stand or fall with the immaculate Hebrew text. He was deemed no small sinner who found mistakes in the manuscripts. On the authority of the written word man was taught to believe impossible legends, conflicting assertions; to take fiction for fact, a dream for a miraculous revelation of God, an Oriental poem for a grave history of miraculous events, a collection of amatory idyls for a serious discourse "touching the mutual love of Christ and the Church"; they have been taught to accept a picture sketched by some glowing Eastern imagination, never intended to be taken for a reality, as a proof that the infinite God spoke in human words, appeared in the shape of a cloud, a flaming bush, or a man who ate, and drank, and vanished into smoke; that He gave counsels to-day, and the opposite to-morrow; that He violated His own laws, was angry, and was only dissuaded by a mortal man from destroying at once a whole nation,--millions of men who rebelled against their leader in a moment of anguish. Questions in philosophy, questions in the Christian religion, have been settled by an appeal to that book. The inspiration of its authors has been assumed as infallible. Every fact in the early Jewish history has been taken as a type of some analogous fact in Christian history. The most distant events, even such as are still in the arms of time, were supposed to be clearly foreseen and foretold by pious Hebrews several centuries before Christ. It has been assumed at the outset, with no shadow of evidence, that those writers held a miraculous communication with God, such as He has granted to no other man. What was originally a presumption of bigoted Jews became an article of faith, which Christians were burned for not believing. This has been for centuries the general opinion of the Christian Church, both Catholic and Protestant, tho the former never accepted the Bible as the only source of religious truth. It has been so. Still worse, it is now the general opinion of religious sects at this day. Hence the attempt, which always fails, to reconcile the philosophy of our times with the poems in Genesis writ a thousand years before Christ. Hence the attempt to conceal the contradictions in the record itself. Matters have come to such a pass that even now he is deemed an infidel, if not by implication an atheist, whose reverence for the Most High forbids him to believe that God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son,--a thought at which the flesh creeps with horror; to believe it solely on the authority of an Oriental story, written down nobody knows when or by whom, or for what purpose; which may be a poem, but can not be the record of a fact, unless God is the author of confusion and a lie. Now, this idolatry of the Old Testament has not always existed. Jesus says that none born of a woman is greater than John the Baptist, yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John. Paul tells us the law--the very crown of the old Hebrew revelation--is a shadow of good things which have now come; only a schoolmaster to bring us to Christ; and when faith has come, that we are no longer under the schoolmaster; that it was a law of sin and death, from which we are made free by the law of the spirit of life. Christian teachers themselves have differed so widely in their notion of the doctrines and meaning of those books that it makes one weep to think of the follies deduced therefrom. But modern criticism is fast breaking to pieces this idol which men have made out of the Scriptures. It has shown that here are the most different works thrown together; that their authors, wise as they sometimes were, pious as we feel often their spirit to have been, had only that inspiration which is common to other men equally pious and wise; that they were by no means infallible, but were mistaken in facts or in reasoning,--uttered predictions which time has not fulfilled; men who in some measure partook of the darkness and limited notions of their age, and were not always above its mistakes or its corruptions. The history of opinions on the New Testament is quite similar. It has been assumed at the outset, it would seem with no sufficient reason, without the smallest pretense on its writers' part, that all of its authors were infallibly and miraculously inspired, so that they could commit no error of doctrine or fact. Men have been bid to close their eyes at the obvious difference between Luke and John, the serious disagreement between Paul and Peter; to believe, on the smallest evidence, accounts which shock the moral sense and revolt the reason, and tend to place Jesus in the same series with the Hercules and Appollonius of Tyana; accounts which Paul in the Epistles never mentions, tho he also had a vein of the miraculous running quite through him. Men have been told that all these things must be taken as part of Christianity, and if they accepted the religion, they must take all these accessories along with it; that the living spirit could not be had without the killing letter. All the books which caprice or accident had brought together between the lids of the Bible were declared to be the infallible Word of God, the only certain rule of religious faith and practise. Thus the Bible was made not a single channel, but the only certain rule of religious faith and practise. To disbelieve any of its statements, or even the common interpretation put upon those statements by the particular age or church in which the man belonged, was held to be infidelity, if not atheism. In the name of Him who forbids us to judge our brother, good men and pious men have applied these terms to others, good and pious as themselves. That state of things has by no means passed away. Men who cry down the absurdities of paganism in the worst spirit of the French "free thinkers" call others infidels and atheists, who point out, tho reverently, other absurdities which men have piled upon Christianity. So the world goes. An idolatrous regard for the imperfect scripture of God's word is the apple of Atalanta, which defeats theologians running for the hand of divine truth. But the current notions respecting the infallible inspiration of the Bible have no foundation in the Bible itself. Which evangelist, which apostle of the New Testament, what prophet or psalmist of the Old Testament, ever claims infallible authority for himself or for others? Which of them does not in his own writings show that he was finite, and, with all his zeal and piety, possest but a limited inspiration, the bound whereof we can sometimes discover? Did Christ ever demand that men should assent to the doctrines of the Old Testament, credit its stories, and take its poems for histories, and believe equally two accounts that contradict one another? Has He ever told you that all the truths of His religion, all the beauty of a Christian life should be contained in the writings of those men who, even after His resurrection, expected Him to be a Jewish king; of men who were sometimes at variance with one another, and misunderstood His divine teachings? Would not those modest writers themselves be confounded at the idolatry we pay them? Opinions may change on these points, as they have often changed--changed greatly and for the worse since the days of Paul. They are changing now, and we may hope for the better; for God makes man's folly as well his wrath to praise Him, and continually brings good out of evil. Another instance of the transitoriness of doctrines taught as Christian is found in those which relate to the nature and authority of Christ. One ancient party has told us that He is the infinite God; another, that He is both God and man; a third, that He was a man, the son of Joseph and Mary, born as we are; tempted like ourselves; inspired as we may be, if we will pay the price. Each of the former parties believed its doctrine on this head was infallibly true, and formed the very substance of Christianity, and was one of the essential conditions of salvation, tho scarce any two distinguished teachers, of ancient or modern times, agree in their expression of this truth. Almost every sect that has ever been, makes Christianity rest on the personal authority of Jesus, and not the immutable truth of the doctrines themselves, or the authority of God, who sent Him into the world. Yet it seems difficult to conceive any reason why moral and religious truths should rest for their support on the personal authority of their revealer, any more than the truths of science on that of him who makes them known first or most clearly. It is hard to see why the great truths of Christianity rest on the personal authority of Jesus, more than the axioms of geometry rest on the personal authority of Euclid or Archimedes. The authority of Jesus as of all teachers, one would naturally think, must rest on the truth of His words, and not their truth on His authority. Opinions respecting the nature of Christ seem to be constantly changing. In the three first centuries after Christ, it appears, great latitude of speculation prevailed. Some said He was God, with nothing of human nature, His body only an illusion; others that He was man, with nothing of the divine nature, His miraculous birth having no foundation in fact. In a few centuries it was decreed by councils that He was God, thus honoring the divine element; next, that He was man also, thus admitting the human side. For some ages the Catholic Church seems to have dwelt chiefly on the divine nature that was in Him, leaving the human element to mystics and other heretical persons, whose bodies served to flesh the swords of orthodox believers. The stream of Christianity has come to us in two channels,--one within the Church, the other without the Church,--and it is not hazarding too much to say that since the fourth century the true Christian life has been out of the established Church, and not in it, but rather in the ranks of dissenters. From the Reformation till the latter part of the last century, we are told, the Protestant Church dwelt chiefly on the human side of Christ, and since that time many works have been written to show how the two--perfect Deity and perfect manhood--were united in His character. But, all this time, scarce any two eminent teachers agree on these points, however orthodox they may be called. What a difference between the Christ of John Gerson and John Calvin,--yet were both accepted teachers and pious men. What a difference between the Christ of the Unitarians and the Methodists,--yet may men of both sects be true Christians and acceptable with God. What a difference between the Christ of Matthew and John,--yet both were disciples, and their influence is wide as Christendom and deep as the heart of man. But on this there is not time to enlarge. Now, it seems clear that the notions men form about the origin and nature of the Scriptures, respecting the nature and authority of Christ, have nothing to do with Christianity except as its aids or its adversaries; they are not the foundation of its truths. These are theological questions, not religious questions. Their connection with Christianity appears accidental; for if Jesus had taught at Athens, and not at Jerusalem; if He had wrought no miracle, and none but the human nature had ever been ascribed to them; if the Old Testament had forever perished at His birth,--Christianity would still have been the word of God; it would have lost none of its truths. It would be just as true, just as beautiful, just as lasting, as now it is; tho we should have lost so many a blessed word, and the work of Christianity itself would have been, perhaps, a long time retarded. To judge the future by the past, the former authority of the Old Testament can never return. Its present authority can not stand. It must be taken for what it is worth. The occasional folly and impiety of its authors must pass for no more than their value; while the religion, the wisdom, the love, which make fragrant its leaves, will still speak to the best hearts as hitherto, and in accents even more divine when reason is allowed her rights. The ancient belief in the infallible inspiration of each sentence of the New Testament is fast changing, very fast. One writer, not a skeptic, but a Christian of unquestioned piety, sweeps off the beginning of Matthew; another, of a different church and equally religious, the end of John. Numerous critics strike off several epistles. The Apocalypse itself is not spared, notwithstanding its concluding curse. Who shall tell us the work of retrenchment is to stop here; that others will not demonstrate what some pious hearts have long felt, that errors of doctrine and errors of fact may be found in many parts of the record, here and there, from the beginning of Matthew to the end of Acts? We see how opinions have changed ever since the apostles' time; and who shall assure us that they were not sometimes mistaken in historical as well as doctrinal matters; did not sometimes confound the actual with the imaginary; and that the fancy of these pious writers never stood in the place of their recollection? But what if this should take place? Is Christianity then to perish out of the heart of the nations, and vanish from the memory of the world, like the religions that were before Abraham? It must be so, if it rest on a foundation which a scoffer may shake, and a score of pious critics shake down. But this is the foundation of a theology, not of Christianity. That does not rest on the decision of councils. It is not to stand or fall with the infallible inspiration of a few Jewish fishermen, who have writ their names in characters of light all over the world. It does not continue to stand through the forbearance of some critic, who can cut when he will the thread on which its life depends. Christianity does not rest on the infallible authority of the New Testament. It depends on this collection of books for the historical statement of its facts. In this we do not require infallible inspiration on the part of the writers, more than in the record of other historical facts. To me it seems as presumptuous, on the one hand, for the believer to claim this evidence for the truth of Christianity, as it is absurd, on the other hand, for the skeptic to demand such evidence to support these historical statements. I can not see that it depends on the personal authority of Jesus. He was the organ through which the Infinite spoke. It is God that was manifested in the flesh by Him, on whom rests the truth which Jesus brought to light, and made clear and beautiful in His life; and if Christianity be true, it seems useless to look for any other authority to uphold it, as for some one to support Almighty God. So if it could be proved--as it can not--in opposition to the greatest amount of historical evidence ever collected on any similar point, that the Gospels were the fabrication of designing and artful men, that Jesus of Nazareth had never lived, still Christianity would stand firm, and fear no evil. None of the doctrines of that religion would fall to the ground; for, if true, they stand by themselves. But we should lose--oh, irreparable loss!--the example of that character, so beautiful, so divine, that no human genius could have conceived it, as none, after all the progress and refinement of eighteen centuries, seems fully to have comprehended its lustrous life. If Christianity were true, we should still think it was so, not because its record was written by infallible pens, nor because it was lived out by an infallible teacher; but that it is true, like the axioms of geometry, because it is true and is to be tried, by the oracle God places in the breast. If it rest on the personal authority of Jesus alone, then there is no certainty of its truth if He were ever mistaken in the smallest matter,--as some Christians have thought He was in predicting His second coming. These doctrines respecting the Scriptures have often changed, and are but fleeting. Yet men lay much stress on them. Some cling to these notions as if they were Christianity itself. It is about these and similar points that theological battles are fought from age to age. Men sometimes use worst the choicest treasure which God bestows. This is especially true of the use men make of the Bible. Some men have regarded it as the heathen their idol, or the savage his fetish. They have subordinated reason, conscience, and religion to this. Thus have they lost half the treasure it bears in its bosom. No doubt the time will come when its true character shall be felt. Then it will be seen that, amid all the contradictions of the Old Testament,--its legends, so beautiful as fictions, so appalling as facts; amid its predictions that have never been fulfilled; amid the puerile conceptions of God which sometimes occur, and the cruel denunciations that disfigure both psalm and prophecy,--there is a reverence for man's nature, a sublime trust in God, and a depth of piety, rarely felt in these cold northern hearts of ours. Then the devotion of its authors, the loftiness of their aim, and the majesty of their life, will appear doubly fair, and prophet and psalmist will warm our hearts as never before. Their voice will cheer the young, and sanctify the gray-headed; will charm us in the toil of life, and sweeten the cup death gives us when he comes to shake off this mantle of flesh. Then will it be seen that the words of Jesus are the music of heaven sung in an earthly voice, and that the echo of these words in John and Paul owe their efficacy to their truth and their depth, and to no accidental matter connected therewith. Then can the Word, which was in the beginning and now is, find access to the innermost heart of man, and speak there as now it seldom speaks. Then shall the Bible--which is a whole library of the deepest and most earnest thoughts and feelings, and piety, and love, ever recorded in human speech--be read oftener than ever before,--not with superstition, but with reason, conscience, and faith, fully active. Then shall it sustain men bowed down with many sorrows; rebuke sin, encourage virtue, sow the world broadcast and quick with the seed of love, that man may reap a harvest for life everlasting. With all the obstacles men have thrown in its path, how much has the Bible done for mankind! No abuse has deprived us of all its blessings. You trace its path across the world from the day of Pentecost to this day. As a river springs up in the heart of a sandy continent, having its father in the skies, and its birthplace in distant unknown mountains; as the stream rolls on, enlarging itself, making in that arid waste a belt of verdure wherever it turns its way; creating palm groves and fertile plains, where the smoke of the cottager curls up at eventide, and marble cities send the gleam of their splendor far into the sky,--such has been the course of the Bible on the earth. Despite of idolaters bowing to the dust before it, it has made a deeper mark on the world than the rich and beautiful literature of all the heathen. The first book of the Old Testament tells man he is made in the image of God; the first of the New Testament gives us the motto, Be perfect as your Father in heaven. Higher words were never spoken. How the truths of the Bible have blest us! There is not a boy on all the hills of New England; not a girl born in the filthiest cellar which disgraces a capital in Europe, and cries to God against the barbarism of modern civilization; not a boy nor a girl all Christendom through, but their lot is made better by that great book. Doubtless the time will come when men shall see Christ also as He is. Well might He still say, "Have I been so long with you, and yet hast thou not known me?" No! we have made Him an idol, have bowed the knee before Him, saying, "Hail, king of the Jews!" called Him "Lord, Lord!" but done not the things which He said. The history of the Christian world might well be summed up in one word of the evangelist--"and there they crucified him"; for there has never been an age when the men did not crucify the Son of God afresh. But if error prevail for a time and grow old in the world, truth will triumph at the last, and then we shall see the Son of God as He is. Lifted up, He shall draw all nations unto Him. Then will men understand the word of Jesus, which shall not pass away. Then shall we see and love the divine life that He lived. How vast has His influence been! How His spirit wrought in the hearts of His disciples, rude, selfish, bigoted, as at first they were! How it has wrought in the world! His words judge the nations. The wisest son of man has not measured their height. They speak to what is deepest in profound men, what is holiest in good men, what is divinest in religious men. They kindle anew the flame of devotion in hearts long cold. They are spirit and life. His truth was not derived from Moses and Solomon; but the light of God shone through Him, not colored, not bent aside. His life is the perpetual rebuke of all time since. It condemns ancient civilization; it condemns modern civilization. Wise men we have since had, and good men; but this Galilean youth strode before the whole world thousands of years, so much of divinity was in Him. His words solve the question of this present age. In Him the Godlike and the human met and embraced, and a divine life was born. Measure Him by the world's greatest sons--how poor they are! Try Him by the best of men--how little and low they appear! Exalt Him as much as we may, we shall yet perhaps come short of the mark. But still was He not our brother; the son of man, as we are; the son of God, like ourselves? His excellence--was it not human excellence? His wisdom, love, piety,--sweet and celestial as they were,--are they not what we also may attain? In Him, as in a mirror, we may see the image of God, and go on from glory to glory, till we are changed into the same image, led by the spirit which enlightens the humble. Viewed in this way, how beautiful is the life of Jesus! Heaven has come down to earth, or rather, earth has become heaven. The Son of God, come of age, has taken possession of His birthright. The brightest revelation is this of what is possible for all men,--if not now, at least hereafter. How pure is His spirit, and how encouraging its words! "Lowly sufferer," he seems to say, "see how I bore the cross. Patient laborer, be strong; see how I toiled for the unthankful and the merciless. Mistaken sinner, see of what thou art capable. Rise up, and be blest." But if, as some early Christians began to do, you take a heathen view, and make Him a God, the Son of God in a peculiar and exclusive sense, much of the significance of His character is gone. His virtue has no merit, His love no feeling, His cross no burthen, His agony no pain. His death is an illusion, His resurrection but a show. For if He were not a man, but a god, what are all these things? What His words, His life, His excellence of achievement? It is all nothing, weighed against the illimitable greatness of Him who created the worlds and fills up all time and space! Then His resignation is no lesson, His life no model, His death no triumph to you or me, who are not gods, but mortal men, that know not what a day shall bring forth, and walk by faith "dim sounding on our perilous way." Alas! we have despaired of man, and so cut off his brightest hope. In respect of doctrines as well as forms, we see all is transitory. "Everywhere is instability and insecurity." Opinions have changed most on points deemed most vital. Could we bring up a Christian teacher of any age, from the sixth to the fourteenth century, for example, tho a teacher of undoubted soundness of faith, whose word filled the churches of Christendom, clergymen would scarce allow him to kneel at their altar, or sit down with them at the Lord's table. His notions of Christianity could not be exprest in our forms, nor could our notions be made intelligible to his ears. The questions of his age, those on which Christianity was thought to depend,--questions which perplexed and divided the subtle doctors,--are no questions to us. The quarrels which then drove wise men mad now only excite a smile or a tear, as we are disposed to laugh or weep at the frailty of man. We have other straws of our own to quarrel for. Their ancient books of devotion do not speak to us; their theology is a vain word. To look back but a short period,--the theological speculations of our fathers during the last two centuries, their "practical divinity," even the sermons written by genius and piety are, with rare exceptions, found unreadable; such a change is there in the doctrines. Now who shall tell us that the change is to stop here; that this sect or that, or even all sects united, have exhausted the river of life, and received it all in their canonized urns, so that we need draw no more out of the eternal well, but get refreshment nearer at hand? Who shall tell us that another age will not smile at our doctrines, disputes, and unchristian quarrels about Christianity, and make wide the mouth at men who walked brave in orthodox raiment, delighting to blacken the names of heretics, and repeat again the old charge, "He hath blasphemed"? Who shall tell us they will not weep at the folly of all such as fancied truth shone only into the contracted nook of their school, or sect, or coterie? Men of other times may look down equally on the heresy-hunters, and men hunted for heresy, and wonder at both. The men of all ages before us were quite as confident as we, that their opinion was truth, that their notion was Christianity and the whole thereof. The men who lit the fires of persecution, from the first martyr to Christian bigotry down to the last murder of the innocents, had no doubt their opinion was divine. The contest about transubstantiation and the immaculate purity of the Hebrew and Greek texts of the Scriptures was waged with bitterness unequaled in these days. The Protestant smiles at one, the Catholic at the other, and men of sense wonder at both. It might teach us all a lesson, at least of forbearance. No doubt an age will come in which ours shall be reckoned a period of darkness, like the sixth century,--when men groped for the wall, but stumbled and fell, because they trusted a transient notion, not an eternal truth; an age when temples were full of idols, set up by human folly; an age in which Christian light had scarce begun to shine into men's hearts. But while this change goes on, while one generation of opinions passes away, and another rises up, Christianity itself, that pure religion, which exists eternal in the constitution of the soul and the mind of God, is always the same. The Word that was before Abraham, in the very beginning, will not change, for that Word is truth. From this Jesus subtracted nothing; to this He added nothing. But He came to reveal it as the secret of God, that cunning men could not understand, but which filled the souls of men meek and lowly of heart. This truth we owe to God; the revelation thereof to Jesus, our elder brother, God's chosen son. To turn away from the disputes of the Catholics and the Protestants, of the Unitarian and the Trinitarian, of old school and new school, and come to the plain words of Jesus of Nazareth,--Christianity is a simple thing, very simple. It is absolute, pure morality; absolute, pure religion,--the love of man; the love of God acting without let or hindrance. The only creed it lays down is the great truth which springs up spontaneous in the holy heart,--there is a God. Its watchword is, Be perfect as your Father in heaven. The only form it demands is a divine life,--doing the best thing in the best way, from the highest motives; perfect obedience to the great law of God. Its sanction is the voice of God in your heart; the perpetual presence of Him who made us and the stars over our head; Christ and the Father abiding within us. All this is very simple--a little child can understand it; very beautiful--the loftiest mind can find nothing so lovely. Try it by reason, conscience, and faith,--things highest in man's nature,--we see no redundance, we feel no deficiency. Examine the particular duties it enjoins,--humility, reverence, sobriety, gentleness, charity, forgiveness, fortitude, resignation, faith, and active love; try the whole extent of Christianity, so well summed up in the command, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind; thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself"; and is there anything therein that can perish? No, the very opponents of Christianity have rarely found fault with the teachings of Jesus. The end of Christianity seems to be to make all men one with God as Christ was one with Him; to bring them to such a state of obedience and goodness that we shall think divine thoughts and feel divine sentiments, and so keep the law of God by living a life of truth and love. Its means are purity and prayer; getting strength from God, and using it for our fellow-men as well as ourselves. It allows perfect freedom. It does not demand all men to think alike, but to think uprightly, and get as near as possible at truth; not all men to live alike, but to live holy, and get as near as possible to a life perfectly divine. Christ set up no Pillars of Hercules, beyond which men must not sail the sea in quest of truth. He says, "I have many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now.... Greater works than these shall ye do." Christianity lays no rude hand on the sacred peculiarity of individual genius and character. But there is no Christian sect which does not fetter a man. It would make all men think alike, or smother their conviction in silence. Were all men Quakers or Catholics, Unitarians or Baptists, there would be much less diversity of thought, character, and life, less of truth active in the world, than now. But Christianity gives us the largest liberty of the sons of God; and were all men Christians after the fashion of Jesus, this variety would be a thousand times greater than now; for Christianity is not a system of doctrines, but rather a method of attaining oneness with God. It demands, therefore, a good life of piety within, of purity without, and gives the promise that whoso does God's will shall know of God's doctrine. MACLEOD THE TRUE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE NORMAN MACLEOD, the eminent Scotch preacher, was born at Campbeltown, in Argyleshire, in 1812. In his preaching he departed from the rigid conventionality of the Scottish Church. His large vision and broad culture gave unusual distinction both to his writings and to his pulpit oratory. He was conspicuous for philanthropic efforts, and frequently held evening services for workingmen. He distinguished himself by his popular Christian writing and by his pulpit oratory. He was practical and manly, of godly nature, with extreme adaptability, and greatly esteemed by Queen Victoria, who made him her chaplain in 1857. He died in 1872. MACLEOD 1812-1872 THE TRUE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY[2] [2] Printed here by permission of the publishers, Messrs. Wm. Blackwood & Sons. _Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word;_ _That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us; that the world may believe that thou hast sent me._--John xvii., 20, 21. "These words spake Jesus, and lifted up his eyes to heaven, and said, Father, the hour is come!" The hour was indeed come for which the whole world had been in travail since creation, and which was for ever to mark a new era in the history of the universe. The hour was come when, having finished the work given Him to do, He was to return to His Father, but only after ending His earthly journey along the awful path on which He was now entering, and which led through Gethsemane, the cross, and the grave. At such a moment in His life He lifted up His eyes in perfect peace, from the sinful and sorrowful world, to the heavens glorious in their harmony and soothing in their silence, and said, "Father!" One feels a solemn awe, as if entering the holy of holies, in seeking to enter into the mind of Christ as exprest in this prayer. Never were such words spoken on earth, never were such words heard in heaven. I ask no other evidence to satisfy my spirit that they are the truth of God than the evidence of their own light, revealing as it does the speaker as being Himself light and life, who verily came from God and went to God. But let me in all reverence endeavor to express a few thoughts, as to the general meaning of this prayer, with reference more especially to that portion of it which I have selected as the subject of my discourse. The one all-absorbing desire of our Lord, as here exprest--the ultimate end sought to be realized by Him--is that God might be glorified as a Father, and that by the world seeing His love revealed in sending His Son into the world to save sinners. "God is love," but "In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only-begotten Son into the world that we might live through him"--a love which, when spiritually seen and possest by us, is itself life eternal; for "This is life eternal that they might know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent;" but "He that loveth not, knoweth not God; for God is love." All "religion" accordingly, all good, all righteousness, peace, joy, glory, to man and to the universe, are bound up in this one thing, knowing God as a Father. Out of this right condition of love to God, must necessarily come our right condition towards man, that of love to man as a brother with special love, the love of character, to Christian brethren. Such a religion as this was never possest as an idea even by the greatest thinkers among the civilized heathen nations; far less was it realized by any. Whatever knowledge many had about God, they knew Him not as a Father to be loved and trusted, and therefore obeyed. When St. Paul addrest the Athenians, he could find such a thought exprest by a poet only, who had said, "We are also His offspring." It is only in the line of supernatural revelation of God to man, as given to and received by Abraham, "the friend," and perfected by Christ the Son, that this knowledge of God has been possest by man. But even among those to whom this true revelation was given about God, how few truly knew Him! The want of this religion, whatever else might exist that was called by that name, was the complaint made by God against His people of old, "They do not know me!" "They proceed from evil to evil," He cries, for "they know not me, saith the Lord." "Through deceit they refuse to know me, saith the Lord;" and again: "Thus saith the Lord, Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man glory in his riches; but let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the Lord which exercise loving-kindness, judgment, and righteousness, in the earth: for in these things I delight, saith the Lord." (Jer. ix., 23, 24.) This was the sorrowing cry of Christ, "O righteous Father, the world hath not known thee!" This was His joy, "I have known thee, and these have known that thou hast sent me!" But if Christ desired that His Father's name should be glorified, how was this to be accomplished? By what medium, or means? Now I would here observe that God's method of revealing Himself to man has ever been to do so by living men; and the Bible is a true record of such revelations in the past. Christianity is not the philosophy of life, but life itself; and is a revelation, not of abstract truth, but of the living personal God to living persons as His children, whom He hath created to glorify and enjoy Him for ever. The first grand medium of this revelation is the eternal Son of God. The very essence of God's character being love, He did not exist from all eternity with a mere capacity of loving, but without an object to love; like an eye capable of seeing light, but with no light to see. The object of His love was His Son, who from all eternity responded to that love and rejoiced in His Father. This eternal Son, when manifested in the flesh, revealed His Father directly, so that He could say, in all He was, and in all He did, and, in a true sense, in all He suffered, "He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father;" and men could say of Him, "We beheld His glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth;" "The glory of God" was "in the face of Jesus Christ." Again, He had also, as the Son of Man, glorified His Father; and, by His reverence for, confidence in, and obedience to, Him, and by His joy in Him, had indirectly revealed what he knew God to be to Him and to all as a Father. "I have glorified Thee on the earth: I have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do." Such was His finished work. But something more was yet to be accomplished. Ere He descends to Gethsemane, He desires anew to have the joy of revealing a Father's heart by revealing to the world His own heart of love as a Son to that Father. Hence His prayer, "Glorify thy Son, that thy Son also may glorify thee." He does not prescribe the new circumstances in which His long-tried and perfect filial confidence and love as a Son were to be manifested. With the absolute consecration of true sonship He leaves these circumstances to be determined by His Father. Now, as on the cross, He commits His spirit, as a little child, into His Father's hands. He desires only that in any way, by any means, He may have the joy of showing forth the reality, the endurance, and the triumph of His Sonship. His Father may fill His cup according to His own will, the Son will drink it. The Father may permit a crown of thorns to be placed on His brow, and every conceivable horror of great darkness from the hate of men and devils to be cast over Him like a funeral-pall; He may be rejected by all His brethren and by the Church and by the State--"Amen!" He cries. Let His body be broken and His blood shed, He will give thanks! One thing only He prays for, "Glorify thy Son, that thy Son also may glorify thee!" As a further end to be accomplished, He prays that He may have the joy of making others share the same divine love and joy, and therefore adds, "As thou hast given him power over all flesh, that he should give eternal life to as many as thou hast given him. And this is life eternal, that they might know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent." But while He as the Son was to be the first revealer of God the Father, He was not, therefore, to be the only revealer. He was the firstborn of many brethren in whom the same love was to be reproduced, and by whom the same high duty was to be performed. If the light of the glory of God shone directly in the face of Jesus Christ, that light was to be transmitted to those who were to shine as lights in the world, that others seeing them might glorify the same God. For now, as ever, God in a real sense manifests Himself in the flesh. Hence our Lord's desire that His brethren should, as sons, reveal the Father, like Himself the Son. He says accordingly, "As thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world." Sent whom? Not apostles only, but those also who should believe through their word; not ministers of the Church only, but members also; all, in short, who were qualified to convince the world that God was a Father, by convincing it of this truth, that God had sent His Son to save sinners--the "faithful saying, worthy of all acceptation." But the question is further suggested, What is this qualification? What is this which men must possess in order to accomplish Christ's purpose of inducing the world to believe? What is this evidence of Christianity which they are to present to the eyes of unbelieving men, by seeing which these are to know and glorify God as their Father in Christ? We reply, it is the oneness of those who are to be ambassadors from God and fellow-workers with Christ. "I pray for them," He says, and not for them only, but "for them also who shall believe on me through their word; that they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they may be one in us; that the world may believe that thou hast sent me." Now this leads me to consider more particularly the nature of this oneness which is essential for such a successful mission as will convince the world of the truth of Christ's mission from the Father. What is meant by this oneness, or this union? We are guided in our inquiry by three features which characterize it. First, It is a oneness such as subsists between Christ and God; secondly, It is a oneness which can be seen or appreciated; thirdly, It is a oneness which is calculated from its nature to convince the world of the truth of Christ's mission. Now there are many kinds of union among men, which, however wonderful or excellent, may be set aside as obviously not fulfilling these conditions, and not such, therefore, as Christ prayed for. There is, e. g., the unity of an army which marches as one man, implicitly obeying its commander even unto death and without a question. Yet, however grand this is, and however illustrative of the character of good soldiers of Jesus Christ, it does not fulfil the conditions specified. Nor does the wonderful unity of a State, which makes and imposes laws, proclaims war or peace, administers justice, and executes its judgments. In neither case is there any union such as subsists betwixt God and Christ; nor such as is in any sense adapted to convince the world that God has sent His Son to save sinners. The same may be alleged of any outward and visible unity of a body of men which might be called a Church. Its organization might be as wonderful, and its members as disciplined, and its power as remarkable, as those of an army; it might be held together like a state by its laws and its enactments, its rewards and punishments, and might energetically advance until it possest the dominion of the world, and attracted such attention as that all men might marvel at it; its members might assent to all the details of a creed however large; the same rights and ceremonies and modes of worship might be repeated throughout all its parts; and it might be able to continue its organized existence from age to age,--yet it would by no means follow that any such system, however remarkable, possest that inward spiritual unity desired in Christ's prayer, no more than the compact unity of Brahminism does, nor the still more extraordinary unity of Buddhism, with its temples, its priesthood, its creed, its rites and ceremonies, continuing unchanged during teeming centuries, and dominating over hundreds of millions of the human race. May not all these and many similar unities be fully and satisfactorily accounted for by principles in human nature, altogether irrespective of the fact of a supernatural power having come into the world to which their origin or continuance is owing? For there is a oneness in the churchyard as well as in the church. There might be a oneness of assent amongst a deaf multitude with regard to the beauty of music, because determined by the fiat of authority, but not as the result of hearing and of taste; and the same kind of oneness of judgment as to the beauty of pictures, on the part of those who were blind. Unity alone proves nothing, apart from its nature and its origin. There is but one kind of unity or oneness which fulfils the specified conditions, and that is, oneness of character or of spiritual life--in one word, the oneness of love;--for this is the highest condition of a personal spirit. It is such love as God had and has to Christ; "That the love wherewith thou has loved me may be in them;" such love as the Son has to the Father, and such as He manifested to His disciples that very evening when, conscious of His divine glory, and "knowing that he was come from God, and went to God," He girded Himself with a towel and washed His disciples' feet. Hence the declaration, "The glory," that is, of character, "which thou gavest me I have given them, that they," through its possession, "may be one, even as we are one: I in them, and thou in me." Hence again His saying, "They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world;" and His prayer, "I pray not that thou shouldst take them out of the world, but that thou shouldst keep them from the evil." Such love as this, when in the soul of ordinary men, does not originate in their own hearts, however naturally benevolent or affectionate these may be. Our Lord in this prayer recognizes it as inseparable from faith in His own teaching, and from personal conviction of the truth which they themselves were to preach; for they had received His words, and had "known surely that I came out from thee, and they have believed that thou didst send me"; and so He prays, "Sanctify them through thy truth; thy word is truth." Now, if we would divide, as with a prism, this pure light of love, we might discern it as being composed, as it were, of at least two colors, or features--first, love to God, exprest in the desire that He should be known; secondly, love to man, exprest in self-sacrifice that all should share this true love. But these very features we discern as first existing in God the Father and in Christ the Son; for God desires, from the necessity of His own nature, that He should be known, and that all His rational creatures should see the glory of His character, and, in seeing it, should live. God has also manifested His love, according to the law of love, by giving and by self-sacrifice, inasmuch as He "spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all." In like manner, the Son desired that His Father might be known, and to accomplish this He became incarnate. He has manifested His love also in the form of self-sacrifice, in that His whole life and death were an offering up of Himself as a sacrifice unto God, and as an atonement for the sins of the world, in order that all men might be made partakers of His own eternal life in God. This, too, is the "mind" of the Holy Spirit, for He glorifies the Son, that the Son may glorify the Father, and glorifies Him in and by His true Church. Hence, wherever true love exists in man, it will manifest itself in these two forms; it will ever desire that God may be known, and will never "seek its own," but sacrifice itself that this end may be attained. In such oneness as this of mind, spirit, character--in one word, love--there is realized the first condition of that oneness for which our Lord prayed. Secondly, This unity of character fulfils the second condition in its being such as the world can in some degree see and appreciate. Blind as the world is, it can see love in the form of self-sacrifice at least, seeking its good, even tho it may not at once see in this a revelation of such love as has its origin in the love of God to man. The world's heart can perceive more things and greater things than can its intellect. The child of the statesman or man of science may not be able to comprehend the world-politics of the one or the scientific discoveries of the other; but it can see and feel the love revealed in the glance of the eye, in the smile on the lips, or in the arms that clasp it to the bosom; and in seeing this, it sees an infinitely greater thing than the politics of the one or the scientific discoveries of the other. It sees, too, in this, tho unconsciously, the love of the Father's heart which fills the universe with glory, even as its eye, when opened to a little light, sees the same light which illumines a thousand worlds. And thus can the world see the light of love. Those who are in prison, in nakedness, or in thirst, are quite able to see and to appreciate the love that, for Christ's sake, visits them, clothes them, and gives them drink. The wretched lepers in the lazar-house, into which no one could enter and ever return to the world, could see and appreciate the love of the Moravian missionary who visited them, and who shut the door for ever between him and all he knew and loved, that he might share and alleviate the horrors of his wretched brethren whom he loved more than all. Blind as the world is, it can see this or nothing; bad as it is, it can appreciate this goodness or none. Thirdly, Such a character is calculated also to convince the world that God has sent Christ to save sinners. Observe again what is our Lord's idea of the mission which was to convert the world; it is this, that those whom He sends, even as God had sent Himself, whether as apostles or as disciples, should give to their fellow men what they have first received from their living Head, Jesus Christ. They were to give "the words" which they received from Him, and which He had received from God--they were to give "the truth" which they received from Him, and which He Himself had glorified in His life and death, that God had sent Him to be the Savior of the world. They were also to manifest that life which they had received from Him, and which He had received from God, and which in them was the necessary result of their faith. Now, it is in the seeing of this life in those who proclaim the truth that the truth itself appears worthy of all acceptation, and that God verily, who has sent His Son to save sinners, is love. It is thus, you perceive, that the mission of the Church, whether of its ministers or its members, is not only to preach glad tidings, but to show their reality in their actual results; not only to preach salvation, but to preach it by saved men; not only to preach eternal life, but to preach it by those who possess it; not only to preach about a Father, but to reveal also that Father through His regenerated sons, who themselves know and love Him. Further, the idea of a Church is that of a society whose members are united through faith in the same truth, and are in possession of the same life. Such a society necessarily springs out of faith and love, and its members cannot choose but unite outwardly because united inwardly. Our Lord assumes its future existence and provides for its continuance. A Church realizing Christ's ideal would, therefore, possess, as its creed this, at least, of believing Christ's words, and the truth that "God had sent his Son to be the Savior of the world." For "every spirit that confesseth not that Christ hath come in the flesh is not of God." "And whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God dwelleth in him, and he in God." Its initiatory sacrament, that of baptism, does but express the nature of this society--viz., that its members are the children of God the Father through Christ the Son, and by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit--their character being a spiritual baptism into the possession of "God's name," which is "love." Another characteristic of it is their possession of that eternal life which is exprest as well as maintained by the "communion" in which its members meet together as brethren, their bond of union being a common union with God in Christ and one another, through the constant partaking of Him, the living bread; eating His flesh and drinking His blood--that is, His whole life of self-sacrifice and love becoming a part of their very being. Worship in spirit and in truth is also necessarily involved in the idea of such a society; and I might add, worship, not from a command merely, but as a necessary result of spiritual character, becoming in a true sense "infallible" as to religion; but religion in this sense,--that of knowing God because of its members being able to say, "We know that he dwelleth in us, and we in him, because he hath given us his Spirit, and we know and testify that he sent his Son to be the Savior of the world." Such a Church would likewise, in a true sense, have an apostolical succession--that is, a succession of teachers and members who had the apostolic spirit, or the oneness as described by our Lord; for it would be able, from its possessing the Spirit of God, to discern those who were like-minded, and to select such as were specially fitted for the work of the ministry. This is the ideal of the Church. But has such a Church been realized? Has there ever been a visible organized body of men who carried out this sublime purpose? Once, indeed, there was. For we perceive, more or less clearly, all these features in the early Church when it had received the Spirit on the day of Pentecost, and when its members met together and "had all things in common," and manifested such sonship towards God, and brotherhood towards each other; and sent forth everywhere its public minister and its members also to bring men into the same blessed unity. But supposing the ideal had no more been realized since that time than God's ideal as described by Moses had been fully realized in the Jewish Church;--yet must the ideal, nevertheless, be ever kept before the spiritual eye. For we do not produce high art by keeping a low rather than a high standard before the artist; neither can we reach to great things in the Church unless we keep a high standard before its members. It is unnecessary here to inquire how it came to pass that the Church, to such a great extent, lost this ideal as one visible society, and became so corrupt as to substitute innumerable vain appearances of spiritual realities for that which alone could satisfy a true and righteous God. But as things now are, the "Church" is broken up into various "churches" or societies, striving more or less to realize the ideal. Each society does so just in proportion as it is able to carry out our Lord's purpose as to its ministry being one in faith, believing Christ's words, in its knowing truly that He came from God to save sinners, and in its seeking, from love to God and man, to make all men know their Father, in the knowledge of whom is salvation. But to confine myself to our own particular duties, let me remind you, fathers and brethren, of our high calling as profest ministers of Christ's Church. The cry of earnest souls, weary of their many burthens, unsatisfied with their husks, conscious of being in a distant land, and finding nothing which men can give to allay their hungering and thirsting, is this: "Show us the Father, and it sufficeth us!" Now supposing an earnest spirit, seeking after the Father, comes to us as His profest ministers in order to discover the truth of what we preach, he might very naturally say, "You preach to me a Savior who came a long time ago into the world professing to save sinners, and you tell me that He is coming again at some future period to judge the world and to bestow salvation upon many; but I want to know whether there is a Savior now; or is it all empty space between that past and that future? You tell me about salvation from the suffering of sin; I ask, 'Is there salvation from sin itself, without which I feel there can be no deliverance from suffering'? You tell me about a medicine that is an infallible cure for 'this ineradicable taint of sin,' and describe the terrible consequences of the disease to me if I be not cured, and the blessed results of joyous spiritual health and peace; but 'Can you show me any person who has actually been restored from disease to health by this divine medicine'? Is all this preaching a mere idle theory of life? Or if not, where is the life itself? Art thou thyself saved? If not--'physician, heal thyself'; for until then thou canst not cure me." But suppose, further, that this same person comes into close contact with the mind of the preacher, and that the more he sees and knows it the more he discerns in the man such thoughts regarding God, such a knowledge of Him, such a love to Him, as convince him that here at least is a reality and not a pretense; suppose that the more he discerns his whole inner life, the things which give him pain and joy, the things which he desires and loves, with his whole feelings towards his fellow-men--feelings expressed in a life of action, which, in spite of infirmities and shortcomings belonging to all human beings, the questioner cannot but recognize as a kind of life he never saw before--a life, too, which commends itself, from what it is, as being the most real and the most satisfactory to reason, conscience, and heart: can anything, I ask, be more calculated to convince him of the account which its possessor gives him as to its origin, when he says, "The life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me." "It is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the chief." What then? What else must be the result of such a vision of true life than the conviction that God is our Father and that God is love, because it is evident from observation as well as from testimony that He hath sent His Son to save men, not in the past only, but to save them now--not to save only those who are called "good," but to save those who are the chief of sinners? If a man truly believes all this, then does he know God, and in so doing possesses eternal life. But more than this, how will his convictions be deepened if, in searching for others who may have the same life, and if, tho failing to discover any one visible body of Christians that show it forth in the unity of the Spirit and in the bond of peace, he is yet able to satisfy himself that there have been, during the last eighteen centuries, and that there are now, in every church, in every land, among all races of men, among those of different temperaments, different culture, and amidst a variety of all possible outward circumstances, men with like passions as himself, who have faith in the same Lord, and are thereby possest of a true love of God and of one another--how will this, I say, deepen in him the conviction that God is a Father, because a Savior, who "gave his Son, not that any should perish, but that all should possess everlasting life?" Will he not be thus led to "believe the record that God has given us eternal life, and that this life is in his Son?" I am persuaded that a man of the highest intellectual culture and the greatest learning, earnestly searching after God and Christ, and the truth of Christianity, would be more convinced of the love of the one as manifested in the truth of the other, by coming into contact with one true soul which, without perhaps intellectual culture or learning, yet truly loved God and man, than he would be by all the volumes on the evidence of Christianity ever written, without such a spiritual vision of a holy life. On the other hand, supposing that no such evidence of the truth of Christianity could be discovered in the preacher of Christianity; nay, if his character contradicted his preaching; if, while he preached love to God and man, he manifested neither, but indifference, to say the least of it, to both; if, while he preached the necessity and the excellence of the Christian life, he himself revealed its very opposite--what effect would this have upon an earnest spirit, but that Christianity was a mere ideal system unsuited to the world, a philosophy of life that might be believed in, but not a life itself that might be possest? This want of personal character, however imperfect, yet real, may account for the want of success in the mission of the Church to convince the world, whether at home or abroad. We may give religion but not godliness; the means of grace, as they are called, but not the grace seen and exprest in the living man. We would thus hear of Christianity without seeing it; hear about the love of God, and the love of Christ as a Savior, without being convinced even by those who send missionaries to India, who, altho they may individually reveal this life, yet how often are looked upon as mere official teachers; while the "Christians" from "Christendom" may, in coming into contact with the heathen, show by their denial of Christianity that it is a matter for the priesthood, not for all men; a book theology, but not an actual power working in humanity: and of such persons it may be said that they have profaned God's great name among the heathen. And this, too, may also account for the secret of success by many a minister of whom the world knows nothing: "For greatest minds are those of whom the noisy world hears least." They may not be great in the ordinary sense of the word--great as thinkers, great as orators, or great in the possession of any remarkable gifts; but they are nevertheless great in the kingdom of heaven; great because little children--great in meekness, in patience, in humility, in love of God and man, and who carry this music in their heart, "through dusky land and wrangling mart." What is the secret of their power? What but an eternal reality! the reality of a godly, godlike life obtained from God, and sustained by God, and seen in the eye, felt in the hand, heard in the words--a light of life which shines beside many a dying bed in many a home of sorrow, as well as in the pulpit. This is a kind of life whose biography will be written with the tears of the grateful orphan and widow, and of many a saved soul which remembers its possessor as its spiritual father. Such a ministry as this can no more fail than the love of God which gives it birth. Let us thank God, therefore, that such a secret power as this is within the reach of us all. We may not be men of talent, and for that we are not responsible; but we may be good men because little children towards God, and for that we are responsible: "I thank thee, heavenly Father, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed them unto babes." And now, fathers and brethren, such is our high calling, to proclaim the glad tidings that God has sent Christ into the world to save sinners. Our chief authority for doing this is that we know it to be true; and if so, no one can deprive us of the high privilege and joy of proclaiming it. A glorious work is thus given us to do; we are ambassadors for God, beseeching men to be reconciled to Him, and we are fellow-workers with our Lord Himself. But this involves a great responsibility, corresponding to the greatness of our calling. For it is at once a glorious and a tremendous thought that Christ perils the chief evidence of the truth of Christianity, not upon what we say, but more upon what we are; and what we are is neither more nor less than what God knows us to be. Our preaching may, nevertheless, fail in some cases to convince the world, as it has done before; for the glory of Christ Himself was not seen by Judas. Indeed the light of life, when it shines, requires the single eye to see it. But in so far as the ministry of men, as an instrumentality, can convince the world, let our ministry be such as is calculated according to Christ's purpose to produce this result. Let it consist of those who can say, "We know whom we have believed." "We know and believe the love that God hath to us." "We testify that he sent his Son to be the Savior of the world." But I must bring my sermon to a close. Pardon me, my brethren, if I have appeared to address you in any other spirit than that of one who would with you confess his sins and shortcomings, and lament with shame and sorrow how much time and power have been lost never to be regained; how many gifts and noble opportunities have been neglected and perverted through unbelief and sloth, which might have been used for our own good and that of our fellow-men. Verily the day is far spent with many of us, and the night is near in which no man can work. Whatever our hands find to do must be done now or never. Let us pray that the living Spirit of God, given to all who seek Him, and whose work it is to glorify the Son, may take of His things and show them to our souls, and open our spiritual eye to see the glory of God in the face of Christ, so that we may be changed into the same glory. May we strive to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, and be enabled so to preach and so to live that the world may be convinced, by what it sees and hears, of the reality of the love of God the Father in giving us and all men eternal life through Jesus Christ His Son! May He who makes us sons of God enable us, as sons, to be glorified in the perfection and revelation of our characters, so that with our elder Brother we may glorify His Father and our Father! And now, to Father, Son and Holy Ghost, one God, be glory, dominion, and praise for evermore. Amen! MOZLEY THE REVERSAL OF HUMAN JUDGMENT BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE JAMES B. MOZLEY, English divine and philosopher, was born at Gainsborough, Lincolnshire, in 1813. He was educated at Oxford, and is particularly known for his discourses on Baptism and Predestination. Gladstone appointed him as professor of divinity at Oxford. His Bampton Lectures on Miracles (1863) are still considered of classical authority. Dr. Brastow, in speaking of his clear and well-ordered thought, says: "He was intent upon getting at the heart of all subjects investigated, and his slowness in clearing up a subject and his deliberation and fastidiousness with respect to his diction embarrassed him. The result was a mastery of thought and an exactness and clearness and strength of speech that are more than an offset for the difficulties he encountered; and one can hardly fail to see that this patient, self-poised mental habit saved him from one-sidedness and kept the balance of his judgement and made him the safer guide. We see here the immense value of thorough mental training." He died in 1878. MOZLEY 1813-1878 THE REVERSAL OF HUMAN JUDGMENT[3] [3] By permission of the publishers, Messrs. Longmans, Green & Co. _Many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first._--Matthew xix., 30. Perhaps there is hardly any person of reflection to whom the thought has not occurred at times, of the final judgment turning out to be a great subversion of human estimates of men. Society forms its opinions of men, and places some on a high pinnacle; they are favorites with it, religious and moral favorites. Such judgments are a necessary and proper part of the present state of things; they are so, quite independently of the question whether they are true or not; it is proper that there should be this sort of expression of the voice of the day; the world is not nothing, because it is transient; it must judge and speak upon such evidence as it has, and is capable of seeing. Therefore those characters of men are by all means to be respected by us, as members of this world; they have their place, they are a part of the system. But does the idea strike us of some enormous subversion of human judgments in the next world, some vast rectification, to realize which now, even if we could, would not be good for us? Such an idea would not be without support from some of those characteristic prophetic sayings of our Lord, which, like the slanting strokes of the sun's rays across the clouds, throw forward a tract of mysterious light athwart the darkness of the future. Such is that saying in which a shadow of the Eternal Judgment seems to come over us--"Many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first." It is impossible to read this saying without an understanding that it was intended to throw an element of wholesome scepticism into the present estimate of human character, and to check the idolatry of the human heart which lifts up its favorites with as much of self-complacency as of enthusiasm, and in its worship of others flatters itself. Indeed, this language of Scripture, which speaks of the subversion of human judgments in another world, comes in connection with another language with which it most remarkably fits in, language which speaks very decidedly of a great deception of human judgments in this world. It is observable that the gospel prophecy of the earthly future of Christianity is hardly what we should have expected it beforehand to be; there is a great absence of brightness in it; the sky is overcast with clouds, and birds of evil omen fly to and fro; there is an agitation of the air, as if dark elements were at work in it; or it is as if a fog rose up before our eyes, and treacherous lights were moving to and fro in it, which we could not trust. Prophecy would fain presage auspiciously, but as soon as she casts her eye forward, her note saddens, and the chords issue in melancholy and sinister cadences which depress the hearer's mind. And what is the burden of her strain? It is this. As soon as ever Christianity is cast into the world to begin its history, that moment there begins a great deception. It is a pervading thought in gospel prophecy--the extraordinary capacity for deceiving and being deceived that would arise under the gospel; it is spoken of as something peculiar in the world. There are to be false Christs and false prophets, false signs and wonders; many that will come in Christ's name, saying, I am Christ, and deceive many; so that it is the parting admonition of Christ to His disciples--"Take heed, lest any man deceive you"--as if that would be the greater danger. And this great quantity of deception was to culminate in that one in whom all power of signs and lying wonders should reside, even that Antichrist, who as God should sit in the temple of God, showing himself that he is God. Thus before the true Christ was known to the world, the prophecy of the false one was implanted deep in the heart of Christianity. When we come to the explanation of this mass of deception as it applies to the Christian society, and the conduct of Christians, we find that it consists of a great growth of specious and showy effects, which will in fact issue out of Christianity, not implying sterling goodness. Christianity will act as a great excitement to human nature, it will communicate a great impulse, it will move and stir man's feelings and intellect; this impulse will issue in a great variety of high gifts and activities, much zeal and ardor. But this brilliant manifestation will be to a large extent lacking in the substance of the Christian character. It will be a great show. That is to say, there will be underneath it the deceitful human heart--the _natura callida_, as Thomas à Kempis calls it, _quæ se semper pro fine habet_. We have even in the early Christian Church that specious display of gifts which put aside as secondary the more solid part of religion, and which St. Paul had so strongly to check. Gospel prophecy goes remarkably in this direction, as to what Christianity would do in the world; that it would not only bring out the truth of human nature, but would, like some powerful alchemy, elicit and extract the falsehood of it; that it would not only develop what was sincere and sterling in man, but what was counterfeit in him too. Not that Christianity favors falsehood, any more than the law favored sin because it brought out sin. The law, as St. Paul says, brought out sin because it was spiritual, and forced sin to be sin against light. So in the case of Christianity. If a very high, pure, and heart-searching religion is brought into contact with a corrupt nature, the nature grasps at the greatness of the religion, but will not give up itself; yet to unite the two requires a self-deception the more subtle and potent in proportion to the purity of the religion. And certainly, comparing the hypocrisy of the Christian with that of the old world, we see that the one was a weak production in comparison with the other, which is indeed a very powerful creation; throwing itself into feeling and language with an astonishing freedom and elasticity, and possessing wonderful spring and largeness. There is, however, one very remarkable utterance of our Lord Himself upon this subject, which deserves special attention. "Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name, and in thy name cast out devils, and in thy name done many wonderful works? And then I will profess unto them, I never knew you." Now this is a very remarkable prophecy, for one reason, that in the very first start of Christianity, upon the very threshold of its entrance into the world, it looks through its success and universal reception, into an ulterior result of that victory--a counterfeit profession of it. It sees, before the first nakedness of its birth is over, a prosperous and flourishing religion, which it is worth while for others to pay homage to, because it reflects credit on its champions. Our Lord anticipates the time when active zeal for Himself will be no guaranty. And we may observe the difference between Christ and human founders. The latter are too glad of any zeal in their favor, to examine very strictly the tone and quality of it. They grasp at it at once; not so our Lord. He does not want it even for Himself, unless it is pure in the individual. But this statement of our Lord's is principally important, as being a prophecy relating to the earthly future of Christianity. It places before us public religious leaders, men of influence in the religious world, who spread and push forward by gifts of eloquence and powers of mind, the truths of His religion, whom yet He will not accept, because of a secret corruptness in the aim and spirit with which they did their work. The prophecy puts forth before us the fact of a great deal of work being done in the Church, and outwardly good zealous work, upon the same motive in substance, upon which worldly men do their work in the world, and stamps it as the activity of corrupt nature. The rejection of this class of religious workers is complete, altho they have been, as the language itself declares, forward and active for spiritual objects, and not only had them on their lips. Here then we have a remarkable subversion of human judgments in the next world foretold by our Lord Himself; for those men certainly come forward with established religious characters to which they appeal; they have no doubt of their position in God's kingdom, and they speak with the air of men whose claims have been acquiesced in by others, and by numbers. And thus a false Christian growth is looked to in gospel prophecy, which will be able to meet even the religious tests of the current day, and sustain its pretensions, but which will not satisfy the tests of the last day. We are then perhaps at first surprized at the sternness of their sentence, and are ready to say with the trembling disciple, "Who then shall be saved?" But when we reflect upon it, we shall see that it is not more than what meets the case; i. e., that we know of sources of error in the estimate of human character which will account for great mistakes being made; which mistakes will have to be rectified. One source of mistakes then is, that while the gospel keeps to one point of its classification of men,--viz., the motive, by which alone it decides their character, the mass of men in fact find it difficult to do so. They have not that firm hold of the moral idea which prevents them from wandering from it, and being diverted by irrelevant considerations, they think of the spirituality of a man as belonging to the department to which he is attached, the profession he makes, the subject matter he works upon, the habitual language he has to use. The sphere of these men, of whom the estimate was to be finally reversed, was a religious one,--viz., the Church, and this was a remarkable prop to them. Now, with respect to this, it must be observed that the Church is undoubtedly in its design a spiritual society, but it is also a society of this world as well; and it depends upon the inward motive of a man whether it is to him a spiritual society or a worldly one. The Church, as soon as ever it is embodied in a visible collection or society of men, who bring into it human nature, with human influences, regards, points of view, estimates, aims, and objects--I say the Church, from the moment it thus embodies itself in a human society, is the world. Individual souls in it convert into reality the high profest principles of the body, but the active stock of motives in it are the motives of human nature. Can the visible Church indeed afford to do without these motives? Of course it cannot. It must do its work by means of these to a great extent, just as the world does its work. Religion itself is beautiful and heavenly, but the machinery for it is very like the machinery for anything else. I speak of the apparatus for conducting and administering the visible system of it. Is not the machinery for all causes and objects much the same, communication with others, management, contrivance, combination, adaptation of means to end? Religion then is itself a painful struggle, but religious machinery provides as pleasant a form of activity as any other machinery possesses; and it counts for and exercises much the same kind of talents and gifts that the machinery of any other department does, that of a government office, or a public institution, or a large business. The Church, as a part of the work, must have active-minded persons to conduct its policy and affairs; which persons must, by their very situation, connect themselves with spiritual subjects, as being the subjects of the society; they must express spiritual joys, hopes, and fears, apprehensions, troubles, trials, aims, and wishes. These are topics which belong to the Church as a department. A religious society, then, or religious sphere of action, or religious sphere of subjects, is irrelevant as regards the spirituality of the individual person, which is a matter of inward motive. One would not of course exclude from the sphere of religion the motive of _esprit de corps_: it is undoubtedly a great stimulus, and in its measure is consistent with all simplicity and singleness of heart; but in an intense form, when the individual is absorbed in a blind obedience to a body, it corrupts the quality of religion; it ensnares the man in a kind of self-interest; and he sees in the success of the body the reflection of himself. It becomes an egotistic motive. There has been certainly an immense produce from it; but the type of religion it has produced is a deflection from simplicity; it may possess striking and powerful qualities, but it is not like the free religion of the heart; and there is that difference between the two, which there is between what comes from a second-hand source and from the fountain head. It has not that naturalness (in the highest sense) which alone gives beauty to religion. Again, those who feel that they have a mission may convert it into a snare to themselves. Doubtless, if, according to St. Paul, "he who desireth the office of a bishop desireth a good work," so one who has a mission to do some particular work has a good office given him. Still, where life is too prominently regarded in this light, the view of life as a mission tends to supersede the view of it as trial and probation. The mission becomes the final cause of life. The generality may be born to do their duty in that station of life in which it has pleased God to call them; but in their own case the mission overtops and puts into the shade the general purpose of life as probation; the generality are sent into the world for their own moral benefit, but they are rather sent into the world for the benefit of that world itself. The outward object with its display and machinery is apt to reduce to a kind of insignificance the inward individual end of life. It appears small and commonplace. The success of their own individual probation is assumed in embarking upon the larger work, as the less is included in the greater; it figures as a preliminary in their eyes, which may be taken for granted; it appears an easy thing to them to save their own souls, a thing, so to speak, for anybody to do. What has been dwelt upon hitherto as a source of false magnifying and exaltation of human character, has been the invisibility of men's motives. But let us take another source of mistake in human judgment. Nothing is easier, when we take gifts of the intellect and imagination in the abstract, than to see that these do not constitute moral goodness. This is indeed a mere truism; and yet, in the concrete, it is impossible not to see how nearly they border upon counting as such; to what advantage they set off any moral good there may be in a man; sometimes even supplying the absence of real good with what looks extremely like it. On paper these mental gifts are a mere string of terms; we see exactly what these terms denote, and we cannot mistake it for something else. It is plain that eloquence, imagination, poetical talent, are no more moral goodness than riches are, or than health and strength are, or than noble birth is. We know that bad men have possest them just as much as good men. Nevertheless, take them in actual life, in the actual effect and impression they make, as they express a man's best moods and highest perceptions and feelings, and what a wonderful likeness and image of what is moral do they produce. Think of the effect of refined power of expression, of a keen and vivid imagination as applied to the illustration and enrichment of moral subjects,--to bringing out, e. g., with the whole force of intellectual sympathy, the delicate and high regions of character,--does not one who can do this seem to have all the goodness which he expresses? And it is quite possible he may have; but this does not prove it. There is nothing more in this than the faculty of imagination and intelligent appreciation of moral things. There enters thus unavoidably often into a great religious reputation a good deal which is not religion, but power. Let us take the character which St. Paul draws. It is difficult to believe that one who had the tongue of men and of angels would not be able to persuade the world that he himself was extraordinarily good. Rather it is part of the fascination of the gift, that the grace of it is reflected in the possessor. But St. Paul gives him, besides thrilling speech which masters men's spirits and carries them away, those profound depths of imagination which still and solemnize them; which lead them to the edge of the unseen world, and excite the sense of the awful and supernatural; he has the understanding of all mysteries. And again, knowledge unfolds all its stores to him with which to illustrate and enrich spiritual truths. Let one then, so wonderful in mental gifts, combine them with the utmost fervor, with boundless faith, before which everything gives way; boundless zeal, ready to make even splendid sacrifices; has there been any age in which such a man would have been set down as sounding and empty? St. Paul could see that such a man might yet be without the true substance--goodness; and that all his gifts could not guarantee it to him; but to the mass his own eloquence would interpret him, the gifts would carry the day, and the brilliant partial virtues would disguise the absence of the general grace of love. Gifts of intellect and imagination, poetical power, and the like, are indeed in themselves a department of worldly prosperity. It is a very narrow view of prosperity that it consists only in having property; a certain kind of gifts are just as much worldly prosperity as riches; nor are they less so if they belong to a religious man, any more than riches are less prosperity because a religious man is rich. We call these gifts worldly prosperity, because they are in themselves a great advantage, and create success, influence, credit, and all which man so much values; and at the same time they are not moral goodness, because the most corrupt men may have them. But even the gifts of outward fortune themselves have much of the effect of gifts of mind in having the semblance of something moral. They set off what goodness a man has to such immense advantage, and heighten the effect of it. Take some well-disposed person, and suppose him suddenly to be left an enormous fortune, he would feel himself immediately so much better a man. He would seem to himself to become suddenly endowed with a new large-heartedness and benevolence. He would picture himself the generous patron, the large dispenser of charity, the promoter of all good in the world. The power to become such would look like a new disposition. And in the eyes of the others, too, his goodness would appear to have taken a fresh start. Even serious piety is recognized more as such; it is brought out and placed in high relief, when connected with outward advantages; and so the gifts of fortune become a kind of moral addition to a man. Action, then, on a large scale, and the overpowering effect of great gifts, are what produce, in a great degree, what we call the canonization of men--the popular judgment which sets them up morally and spiritually upon the pinnacle of the temple, and which professes to be a forestalment, through the mouth of the Church or of religious society, of the final judgment. How decisive is the world's, and, not less confident, the visible Church's note of praise. It is just that trumpet note which does not bear a doubt. How it is trusted! With what certainty it speaks! How large a part of the world's and Church's voice is praise! It is an immense and ceaseless volume of utterance. And by all means let man praise man, and not do it grudgingly either; let there be an echo of that vast action which goes on in the world, provided we only speak of what we know. But if we begin to speak of what we do not know, and which only a higher judgment can decide, we are going beyond our province. On this question we are like men who are deciding irreversibly on some matter in which everything depends upon one element in the case, which element they cannot get at. We appear to know a great deal of one another, and yet, if we reflect, what a vast system of secrecy the moral world is. How low down in a man sometimes (not always) lies the fundamental motive which sways his life? But this is what everything depends on. Is it an unspiritual motive? Is there some keen passion connected with this world at the bottom? Then it corrupts the whole body of action. There is a good deal of prominent religion then, which keeps up its character, even when this motive betrays itself; great gifts fortify it, and people do not see because they will not. But at any rate there is a vast quantity of religious position which has this one great point undecided beneath it; and we know of tremendous dangers to which it is exposed. Action upon a theater may doubtless be as simple-minded action as any other; it has often been; it has been often even childlike action; the apostles acted on a theater; they were a spectacle to men and to angels. Still, what dangers in a spiritual point of view does it ordinarily include--dangers to simplicity, inward probity, sincerity! How does action on this scale and of this kind seem, notwithstanding its religious object, to pass over people, not touching one of their faults, leaving--more than their infirmities--the dark veins of evil in their character as fixed as ever. How will persons sacrifice themselves to their objects? They would benefit the world, it would appear, at their own moral expense; but this is a kind of generosity which is perilous policy for the soul, and is indeed the very mint in which the great mass of false spiritual coinage is made. On the other hand, while the open theater of spiritual power and energy is so accessible to corrupt motives, which, tho undermining its truthfulness, leave standing all the brilliance of the outer manifestation; let it be considered what a strength and power of goodness may be accumulating in unseen quarters. The way in which man bears temptation is what decides his character; yet how secret is the system of temptation? Who knows what is going on? What the real ordeal has been? What its issue was? So with respect to the trial of griefs and sorrows, the world is again a system of secrecy. There is something particularly penetrating, and which strikes home, in those disappointments which are especially not extraordinary, and make no show. What comes naturally and as a part of our situation has a probing force grander strokes have not; there is a solemnity and stateliness in these, but the blow which is nearest to common life gets the stronger hold. Is there any particular event which seems to have, if we may say so, a kind of malice in it which provokes the Manichean feeling in our nature, it is something which we should have a difficulty in making appear to any one else any special trial. Compared with this inner grasp of some stroke of providence, voluntary sacrifice stands outside of us. After all, the self-made trial is a poor disciplinarian weapon; there is a subtle masterly irritant and provoking point in the genuine natural trial, and in the natural crossness of events, which the artificial thing cannot manage; we can no more make our trials than we can make our feelings. In this way moderate deprivations are in some cases more difficult to bear than extreme ones. "I can bear total obscurity," says Pascal, "well enough; what disgusts me is semi-obscurity; I can make an idol of the whole, but no great merit of the half." And so it is often the case that what we must do as simply right, and which would not strike even ourselves, and still less anybody else, is just the hardest thing to do. A work of supererogation would be much easier. All this points in the direction of great work going on under common outsides where it is not noticed; it hints at a secret sphere of growth and progress; and as such it is an augury and presage of a harvest which may come some day suddenly to light, which human judgments had not counted on. It is upon such a train of thought as this which has been passing through our minds that we raise ourselves to the reception of that solemn sentence which Scripture has inscribed on the curtain which hangs down before the judgment-seat--"The first shall be last, and the last shall be first." The secrets of the tribunal are guarded, and yet a finger points which seems to say--"Beyond, in this direction, behind this veil, things are different from what you will have looked for." Suppose, e. g., any supernatural judge should appear in the world now, and it is evident that the scene he would create would be one to startle us; we should not soon be used to it; it would look strange; it would shock and appal; and that from no other cause than simply its reductions; that it presented characters stripped bare, denuded of what was irrelevant to goodness, and only with their moral substance left. The judge would take no cognizance of a rich imagination, power of language, poetical gifts and the like, in themselves, as parts of goodness, any more than he would of riches and prosperity; and the moral residuum would appear perhaps a bare result. The first look of divine justice would strike us as injustice; it would be too pure a justice for us; we should be long in reconciling ourselves to it. Justice would appear, like the painter's gaunt skeleton of emblematic meaning, to be stalking through the world, smiting with attenuation luxuriating forms of virtue. Forms, changed from what we knew, would meet us, strange unaccustomed forms, and we should have to ask them who they are--"You were flourishing but a short while ago, what has happened to you now?" And the answer, if it spoke the truth, would be--"Nothing, except that now, much which lately counted as goodness, counts as such no longer; we are tried by a new moral measure, out of which we issue different men; gifts which have figured as goodness remain as gifts, but cease to be goodness." Thus would the large sweep made of human canonizations act like blight or volcanic fire upon some rich landscape, converting the luxury of nature into a dried-up scene of bare stems and scorched vegetation. So may the scrutiny of the last day, by discovering the irrelevant material in men's goodness, reduce to a shadow much exalted earthly character. Men are made up of professions, gifts, and talents, and also of themselves, but all so mixed together that we cannot separate one element from another; but another day must show what the moral substance is, and what is only the brightness and setting off of gifts. On the other hand, the same day may show where, tho the setting off of gifts is less, the substance is more. If there will be reversal of human judgment for evil, there will be reversal of it for good too. The solid work which has gone on in secret, under common exteriors, will then spring into light, and come out in a glorious aspect. Do we not meet with surprizes of this kind here, which look like auguries of a greater surprize in the next world, a surprize on a vast scale. Those who have lived under an exterior of rule, when they come to a trying moment sometimes disappoint us; they are not equal to the act required from them; because their forms of duty, whatever they are, have not touched in reality their deeper fault of character, meanness, or jealousy, or the like, but have left them where they were; they have gone on thinking themselves good because they did particular things, and used certain language, and adopted certain ways of thought, and have been utterly unconscious all the time of a corroding sin within them. On the other hand, some one who did not promise much, comes out at a moment of trial strikingly and favorably. This is a surprize, then, which sometimes happens, nay, and sometimes a greater surprize still, when out of the eater comes forth meat, and out of a state of sin there springs the soul of virtue. The act of the thief on the cross is a surprize. Up to the time when he was judged he was a thief, and from a thief he became a saint. For even in the dark labyrinth of evil there are unexpected outlets; sin is established by the habit in the man, but the good principle which is in him also, but kept down and supprest, may be secretly growing too; it may be undermining it, and extracting the life and force from it. In this man, then, sin becomes more and more, tho holding its place by custom, an outside and a coating, just as virtue does in the deteriorating man, till at last, by a sudden effort and the inspiration of an opportunity, the strong good casts off the weak crust of evil and comes out free. We witness a conversion. But this is a large and mysterious subject--the foundation for high virtue to become apparent in a future world, which hardly rises up above the ground here. We cannot think of the enormous trial which is undergone in this world by vast masses without the thought also of some sublime fruit to come of it some day. True, it may not emerge from the struggle of bare endurance here, but has not the seed been sown? Think of the burden of toil and sorrow borne by the crowds of poor: we know that pain does not of itself make people good; but what we observe is, that even in those in whom the trial seems to do something, it yet seems such a failure. What inconstancy, violence, untruths! The pathos in it all moves you. What a tempest of character it is! And yet when such trial has been passed we involuntarily say--has not a foundation been laid? And so in the life of a soldier, what agonies must nature pass through in it! While the present result of such a trial is so disappointing, so little seems to come of it! Yet we cannot think of what has been gone through by countless multitudes in war, of the dreadful altar of sacrifice, and the lingering victims, without the involuntary idea arising that in some, even of the irregular and undisciplined, the foundation of some great purification has been laid. We hear sometimes of single remarkable acts of virtue, which spring from minds in which there is not the habit of virtue. Such acts point to a foundation, a root of virtue in man, deeper than habit; they are sudden leaps which show an unseen spring, which are able to compress in a moment the growth of years. To conclude. The gospel language throws doubt upon the final stability of much that passes current here with respect to character, upon established judgments, and the elevations of the outward sanctuary. It lays down a wholesome scepticism. We do not do justice to the spirit of the gospel by making it enthusiastic simply, or even benevolent simply. It is sagacious, too. It is a book of judgment. Man is judged in it. Our Lord is Judge. We cannot separate our Lord's divinity from His humanity; and yet we must be blind if we do not see a great judicial side of our Lord's human character;--that severe type of understanding, in relation to the worldly man, which has had its imperfect representation in great human minds. He was unspeakably benevolent, kind, compassionate; true, but He was a Judge. It was indeed of His very completeness as man that He should know man; and to know is to judge. He must be blind who, in the significant acts and sayings of our Lord as they unroll themselves in the pregnant page of the gospel, does not thus read His character; he sees it in that insight into pretensions, exposure of motives, laying bare of disguises; in the sayings--"Believe it not"; "Take heed that no man deceive you"; "Behold, I have told you"; in all that profoundness of reflection in regard to man, which great observing minds among mankind have shown, tho accompanied by much of frailty, anger, impatience, or melancholy. His human character is not benevolence only; there is in it wise distrust--that moral sagacity which belongs to the perfection of man. Now then, as has been said, this scepticism with regard to human character has had, as a line of thought, certain well-known representatives in great minds, who have discovered a root of selfishness in men's actions, have probed motives, extracted aims, and placed man before himself denuded and exposed; they judged him, and in the frigid sententiousness or the wild force of their utterances, we hear that of which we cannot but say, how true! But knowledge is a goad to those who have it; a disturbing power; a keenness which distorts; and in the sight it gives it partly blinds also. The fault of these minds was that in exposing evil they did not really believe in goodness; goodness was to them but an airy ideal, the dispirited echo of perplexed hearts,--returned to them from the rocks of the desert, without bearing hope with it. They had no genuine belief in any world which was different from theirs; they availed themselves of an ideal indeed to judge this world, and they could not have judged it without; for anything, whatever it is, is good, if we have no idea of anything better; and therefore the conception of a good world was necessary to judge the bad one. But the ideal held loose to their minds--not anything to be substantiated, not as a type in which a real world was to be cast, not as anything of structural power, able to gather into it, form round it, and build up upon itself; not, in short, as anything of power at all, able to make anything, or do anything, but only like some fragrant scent in the air, which comes and goes, loses itself, returns again in faint breaths, and rises and falls in imperceptive waves. Such was goodness to these minds; it was a dream. But the gospel distrust is not disbelief in goodness. It raises a great suspense, indeed, it shows a curtain not yet drawn up, it checks weak enthusiasm, it appends a warning note to the pomp and flattery of human judgments, to the erection of idols; and points to a day of great reversal; a day of the Lord of Hosts; the day of pulling down and plucking up, of planting and building. But, together with the law of sin, the root of evil in the world, and the false goodness in it, it announces a fount of true natures; it tells us of a breath of Heaven of which we know not whence it cometh and whither it goeth; which inspires single individual hearts, that spring up here and there, and everywhere, like broken gleams of the supreme goodness. And it recognizes in the renewed heart of man an instinct which can discern true goodness and distinguish it from false; a secret discrimination in the good by which they know the good. It does not therefore stand in the way of that natural and quiet reliance which we are designed by God to have in one another, and that trust in those whose hearts we know. "Wisdom is justified of her children"; "My sheep hear my voice, but a stranger will they not follow, for they know not the voice of strangers." [Illustration: ad page 1] From the Pen of ALPHONSO A. HOPKINS, Ph.D., _Professor of Political Economy and Prohibition in the American Temperance University._ =Wealth and Waste= The Principles of Political Economy In their Application to the Present Problems of Labor, Law, and the Liquor Traffic. In a broad, philosophic, and patriotic spirit the author seeks to apply, in this volume, the accepted principles of Political Economy, as to Production and Wealth, Consumption and Waste. "A book which contains very much of great value."--_Herald and Presbyter_, Cincinnati. "The argument is impressive, and well buttressed with statistics and apt citations."--_The Watchman_, Boston. 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Willard._ 12mo, Cloth, 286 pp.----Price, $1.00. =FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers,= =NEW YORK and LONDON= [Illustration: ad page 2] _="Ranks Next to a Concordance."--SPURGEON.=_ =Biblical Lights and Side Lights= A cyclopedia of ten thousand illustrations and thirty thousand cross-references, consisting of fact, incident, and remarkable declarations taken from the Bible; for the use of those in every profession who, for illustrative purpose, desire ready access to the numerous incidents and striking statements contained in the Bible, students, teachers, public speakers, lawyers, ministers, and others, as also for the family library. Prepared by Rev. Charles E. Little (author of "Historical Lights," etc.). =Royal 8vo, 620 pp. Price, Cloth, $4.00; Library Sheep, $5.50.= "'Biblical Lights and Side Lights' is a specially useful book.... It ranks next to a concordance.... Mr. Little's work is a great success."--_Rev. C. H. 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28464	----	generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries) LUTHER'S EPISTLE SERMONS EPIPHANY, EASTER AND PENTECOST TRANSLATED WITH THE HELP OF OTHERS BY PROF. JOHN NICHOLAS LENKER, D.D. AUTHOR OF "LUTHERANS IN ALL LANDS," TRANSLATOR OF LUTHER'S WORKS INTO ENGLISH AND PRESIDENT OF THE NATIONAL LUTHERAN LIBRARY ASSOCIATION VOL. II. (_Volume VIII of Luther's Complete Works_.) THIRD THOUSAND _The Luther Press_ MINNEAPOLIS, MINN., U.S.A. 1909. _Dedication_ To All, Pastors and Laymen, who appreciate the true place of Luther's Writings in the Evangelization of Europe, and are interested in the Evangelization of the world, this volume of Easter and Pentecost Epistle Sermons of the English Luther is gratefully and prayerfully dedicated. Copyright, 1909, by J. N. LENKER. _Foreword_ The Evangelization of the World is being accomplished more rapidly than we think. Three mighty movements are constantly at work--Reformation, Heathen Missions and Emigration or Colonization. By the Reformation Europe was evangelized; by Heathen Missions Asia and Africa are being evangelized and by Emigration or Colonization North and South America and Australia have been to a large extent evangelized. In "Lutherans In All Lands," published in 1893, and in the introduction to the volume on St. Peter's Epistles of the English Luther, we emphasized the relation of the Evangelical-Lutheran church and of Luther's writings to the evangelization of the world through these three movements. In view of the recent marvelous growth in interest in Heathen Missions and the false ideas about Luther's relation to this theme, the following may be in place here in this volume of Easter and Pentecost sermons: The Christian religion being preëminently missionary the Reformation of the Christian Church would necessarily be missionary. Protestant missions began with Protestantism. Herzog's Encyclopedia says: "Luther himself already seizes every opportunity offered by a text of the Divine Word in order to remind believers of the distress of the Heathen and Turks and earnestly urges them to pray in their behalf, and to send out missionaries to them. In accord with him all the prominent theologians and preachers of his day, and of the succeeding period inculcated the missionary duty of the Church. Many also of the Evangelical princes cherished the work with Christian love and zeal." Luther's interest in the work of true evangelization is seen in the name he designedly chose for the church of his followers. He did not call it Protestant nor Lutheran, but conscientiously insisted upon it being called the Evangelical, or in plain Anglo-Saxon, the Gospel church, the Evangelizing church. Because of Luther's emphasis on the word evangelical there are properly speaking no Lutheran, but only Evangelical-Lutheran churches. He is the evangelist of Protestantism in the true sense. Of the library of 110 volumes of which Luther is the author, 85 of them treat of the Bible and expound its pure evangelical teachings in commentaries, sermons and catechetical writings. He popularized the word evangelical. With his tongue and pen he labored incessantly for the evangelization of Europe. That Europe is evangelized is due more to his labors and writings than to those of any other. What those writings did for Europe they may do, and we believe, will do, for the world in a greater or less degree. The greatest evangelist of Europe has a God-given place in the evangelization of the world. His most evangelical classics should be translated into all the dialects of earth as soon as the Bible is given to the people in their native tongue. Dr. Warneck says: "By the Reformation the christianizing of a large part of Europe was first completed, and so far it may be said to have carried on a mission work at home on an extensive scale." Further he says: "The Reformation certainly did a great indirect service to the cause of missions to the heathen, as it not only restored the true substance of missionary preaching by its earnest proclamation of the Gospel, but also brought back the whole work of missions on Apostolic lines. Luther rightly combats, as Plitt insists, 'the secularizing of missionary work.'" In explaining the 117th Psalm Luther says: "If all the heathen shall praise God, he must first be their God. Shall he be their God? Then they must know him and believe in him, and put away all idolatry, since God can not be praised with idolatrous lips or with unbelieving hearts. Shall they believe? Then they must first hear his Word and by it receive the Holy Spirit, who cleanses and enlightens their heart through faith. Are they to hear his Word? Then preachers must be sent who shall declare to them the Word of God." So in his familiar hymn, "Es wolle Gott uns gnaedig sein." "And Jesus Christ, His saving strength To Gentiles to make known, That thee, O God, may thank and praise The Gentiles everywhere." In commenting on the words of the Second Psalm, "Ask of me and I will give thee the heathen for thine inheritance," Luther says: "Christ, therefore, being upon earth and appointed king upon Mount Zion, receives the Gentiles who were then promised unto him. The words 'of me' are not spoken without a particular meaning. They are to show that this kingdom and this inheritance of the Gentiles are conferred on Christ, not by men, nor in any human way, but by God, that is, spiritually." All who retain the good old custom of the fathers in reading Luther's Postil sermons on the Gospel and Epistle texts for each Sunday know what deep missionary thoughts are found in the sermons for Epiphany, Ascension Day and Pentecost. In one sermon for Ascension Day on "Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to the whole creation," we read, "these words of the Sovereign Ruler commission these poor beggars to go forth and proclaim this new message, not in one city or country only, but in all the world." For the history of the writing of these sermons the reader is referred to volumes 10, 11, 12 and 13 of the Gospel sermons of Luther's works in English. The German text will be readily found in the 12th volume of the Walch and of the St. Louis Walch editions, and in the 8th volume of the Erlangen edition of Luther's works. Due acknowledgment is hereby made of aid received from the translation of Pastor Ambrose Henkel, and published in 1869, at New Market, Virginia. Also to Pastor C. B. Gohdes, for comparing the manuscript from the Third Sunday before Lent with the German text and making valuable improvements. J. N. LENKER. Home for Young Women, Minneapolis, Minn., March 22, 1909. _Contents_ Page. First Sunday After Epiphany.--The Fruits of Faith. Our Spiritual Service. Romans 12, 1-6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Second Sunday After Epiphany.--The Gifts and Works of Christ's Members. Our Christian Duty. Romans 12, 6-16 . . . . . . . . . 20 Third Sunday After Epiphany.--Christian Revenge. Romans 12, 16-21 51 Fourth Sunday After Epiphany.--Christian Love and the Command to Love. Romans 13, 8-10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 Fifth Sunday After Epiphany.--The Glorious Adornment of Christians. Colossians 3, 12-17 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76 Third Sunday Before Lent.--The Christian Race for the Prize. 1 Corinthians 9, 24-10, 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 Second Sunday Before Lent.--Paul's Glory in His Labor and Sufferings. 2 Corinthians 11, 19-12, 9 . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 Sunday Before Lent.--Paul's Praise of Christian Love. 1 Corinthians 13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 First Sunday in Lent.--An Entreaty to Live as Christians. 2 Corinthians 6, 1-10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 Second Sunday in Lent.--Exhortation to Holiness. 1 Thessalonians 4, 1-7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 Third Sunday in Lent.--Exhortation to be Imitators of God. Ephesians 5, 1-9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 Fourth Sunday in Lent.--The Children of Promise. Galatians 4, 21-31 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162 Fifth Sunday in Lent.--Christ Our Great High Priest. Hebrews 9, 11-15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 Palm Sunday.--Christ an Example of Love. Christ's Humiliation and Exaltation. Philippians 2, 5-11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 SUMMER PART OF THE EPISTLE POSTIL. Easter Sunday.--Purging Out the Old Leaven and the New Easter Festival of Christians. 1 Corinthians 5, 6-8 . . . . . . . . . 181 Easter Monday.--Peter's Sermon on the Blessings of Christ's Resurrection. Acts 10, 34-43 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 Easter Tuesday.--Paul's Sermon on the Power and Blessings of Christ's Resurrection. Acts 13, 26-39 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202 Second Sermon.--The Divine Word and the Resurrection. Acts 13, 26-39 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 Easter Wednesday.--The Fruit That Follows Belief in the Resurrection. Colossians 3, 1-7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217 Sunday After Easter.--The Victory of Faith and the Witness of the Holy Spirit Through Baptism. 1 John 5, 4-12 . . . . . . . . . . 231 Second Sunday After Easter.--An Exhortation to Patience by Christ's Example in Suffering. 1 Peter 2, 20-25 . . . . . . . . 248 Third Sunday After Easter.--Our Christian Duties. An Exhortation to the New Christian Life. 1 Peter 2, 11-20 . . . . . . . . . . 272 Second Sermon.--The Resurrection of the Dead. 1 Corinthians 15, 20-28 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285 Fourth Sunday After Easter.--The Resurrection of the Dead. 1 Corinthians 15, 35-50 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287 Second Sermon.--Our Gifts and Duties. James 1, 16-21 . . . . . . 289 Fifth Sunday After Easter.--The Change of Our Mortal Body and the Destruction of Death. 1 Corinthians 15, 51-58 . . . . . . . . . 301 Ascension Day.--The History of Christ's Ascension. Acts 1, 1-11 . 301 Sunday After Ascension Day.--Soberness in Prayer and Fervency in Love, and the Proper Functions of Church Officers. 1 Peter 4, 7-11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303 Pentecost.--The History of Pentecost. Acts 2, 1-13 . . . . . . . 329 Pentecost Monday.--Peter's Sermon on Joel's Prophecy on the Outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Acts 2, 14-28 . . . . . . . . . 336 Pentecost Tuesday.--The Resurrection and Glorification of Christ Through the Sending of the Holy Spirit. Acts 2, 29-36 . . . . . 336 _First Sunday After Epiphany_ Text: Romans 12, 1-6. 1 I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service. 2 And be not fashioned according to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God. 3 For I say, through the grace that was given me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but so to think as to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to each man a measure of faith. 4 For even as we have many members in one body, and all the members have not the same office: 5 so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and severally members one of another. 6 And having gifts differing according to the grace that was given to us. THE FRUITS OF FAITH. 1. In the preceding sermons I have treated sufficiently of faith and love; and of crosses and afflictions, the promoters of hope. Faith, love and affliction bound the Christian's life. It is unnecessary that I should further discourse on these topics. As they--or anything pertaining to the life of the Christian--present themselves, reference may be had to those former postils. It is my purpose now briefly to make plain that the sum of all divine doctrine is simply Jesus Christ, as we have often heard. 2. This epistle lesson treats not of faith, but of the fruits of faith--love, unity, patience, self-denial, etc. Among these fruits, the apostle considers first the discipline of the body--the mortification of evil lusts. He handles the subject here in a manner wholly unlike his method in other epistles. In Galatians he speaks of crucifying the flesh with its lusts; in Hebrews and Colossians, of putting off the old man and mortifying the members on earth. Here he mentions presenting the body as a sacrifice; he dignifies it by the loftiest and most sacred terms. Why does he so? First, by making the terms glorious, he would the more emphatically urge us to yield this fruit of faith. The whole world regards the priest's office--his service and his dignity--as representing the acme of nobility and exaltation; and so it truly does. Now, if one would be a priest and exalted before God, let him set about this work of offering up his body to God; in other words, let him be humble, let him be nothing in the eyes of the world. 3. I will let every man decide for himself the difference between the outward priesthood of dazzling character and the internal, spiritual priesthood. The first is confined to a very few individuals; the second, Christians commonly share. One was ordained of men, independently of the Word of God; the other was established through the Word, irrespective of human devices. In that, the skin is besmeared with material oil; in this, the heart is internally anointed with the Holy Spirit. That applauds and extols its works; this proclaims and magnifies the grace of God, and his glory. That does not offer up the body with its lusts, but rather fosters the evil desires of the flesh; this sacrifices the body and mortifies its lusts. The former permits the offering up to itself of gold and property, of honor, of idleness and pleasure, and of all manner of lust on earth; the latter foregoes these things and accepts only the reverse of homage. That again sacrifices Christ in its awful perversions; this, satisfied with the atonement once made by Christ, offers up itself with him and in him, by making similar sacrifices. In fact, the two priesthoods accord about as well as Christ and Barabbas, as light and darkness, as God and the world. As little as smearing and shaving were factors in Christ's priesthood, so little will they thus procure for anyone the Christian priesthood. Yet Christ, with all his Christians, is priest. "Thou art a priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek." Ps 110, 4. The Christian priesthood will not admit of appointment. The priest is not made. He must be born a priest; must inherit his office. I refer to the new birth--the birth of water and the Spirit. Thus all Christians become priests, children of God and co-heirs with Christ the Most High Priest. 4. Men universally consider the title of priest glorious and honorable; it is acceptable to everyone. But the duties and the sacrifice of the office are rarely accepted. Men seem to be averse to these latter. The Christian priesthood costs life, property, honor, friends and all worldly things. It cost Christ the same on the holy cross. No man readily chooses death instead of life, and accepts pain instead of pleasure, loss instead of gain, shame rather than honor, enemies rather than friends, according to the example Christ set for us on the cross. And further, all this is to be endured, not for profit to one's self, but for the benefit of his neighbor and for the honor and glory of God. For so Christ offered up his body. This priesthood is a glorious one. 5. As I have frequently stated, the suffering and work of Christ is to be viewed in two lights: First, as grace bestowed on us, as a blessing conferred, requiring the exercise of faith on our part and our acceptance of the salvation offered. Second, we are to regard it an example for us to follow; we are to offer up ourselves for our neighbors' benefit and for the honor of God. This offering is the exercise of our love--distributing our works for the benefit of our neighbors. He who so does is a Christian. He becomes one with Christ, and the offering of his body is identical with the offering of Christ's body. This is what Peter calls offering sacrifices acceptable to God by Christ. He describes priesthood and offering in these words: "Ye also, as living stones, are built up a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God through Jesus Christ." 1 Pet 2, 5. 6. Peter says "spiritual sacrifices," but Paul says our bodies are to be offered up. While it is true that the body is not spirit, the offering of it is called a spiritual sacrifice because it is freely sacrificed through the Spirit, the Christian being uninfluenced by the constraints of the Law or the fear of hell. Such motives, however, sway the ecclesiasts, who have heaped tortures upon themselves by undergoing fasts, uncomfortable clothing, vigils, hard beds and other vain and difficult performances, and yet failed to attain to this spiritual sacrifice. Rather, they have wandered the farther from it because of their neglect to mortify their old Adam-like nature. They have but increased in presumption and wickedness, thinking by their works and merits to raise themselves in God's estimation. Their penances were not intended for the mortification of their bodies, but as works meriting for them superior seats in heaven. Properly, then, their efforts may be regarded a carnal sacrifice of their bodies, unacceptable to God and most acceptable to the devil. 7. But spiritual sacrifices, Peter tells us, are acceptable to God; and Paul teaches the same (Rom 8, 13): "If by the Spirit ye put to death the deeds of the body, ye shall live." Paul speaks of mortifying through the Spirit; Peter, of a spiritual sacrifice. The offering must first be slain. Paul's thought is: "If ye mortify the deeds of the body in your individual, chosen ways, unprompted by the Spirit or your own heart, simply through fear of punishment, that mortification--that sacrifice--will be carnal; and ye shall not live, but die a death the more awful." The Spirit must mortify your deeds--spiritually it must be done; that is, with real enjoyment, unmoved by fear of hell, voluntarily, without expectation of meriting honor or reward, either temporal or eternal. This, mark you, is a spiritual sacrifice. However outward, gross, physical and visible a deed may be, it is altogether spiritual when wrought by the Spirit. Even eating and drinking are spiritual works if done through the Spirit. On the other hand, whatsoever is wrought through the flesh is carnal, no matter to what extent it may be a secret desire of the soul. Paul (Gal 5, 20) terms idolatry and heresies works of the flesh, notwithstanding they are invisible impulses of the soul. 8. In addition to this spiritual sacrifice--the mortifying of the deeds of the body--Peter mentions another, later on in the same chapter: "But ye are ... a royal priesthood ... that ye may show forth the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light." Here Peter touches upon the preaching office, the real sacrificial office, concerning which it is said (Ps 50, 23), "Whoso offereth the sacrifice of thanksgiving glorifieth me." Preaching extols the grace of God. It is the offering of praise and thanks. Paul boasts (Rom 15, 16) that he sanctifies and offers the Gospel. But it is not our purpose to consider here this sacrifice of praise; though praise in the congregation may be included in the spiritual sacrifice, as we shall see. For he who offers his body to God also offers his tongue and his lips as instruments to confess, preach and extol the grace of God. On this topic, however, we shall speak elsewhere. Let us now consider the words of the text. OUR SPIRITUAL SERVICE. "I beseech you therefore, brethren." 9. Paul does not say, "I command you." He is preaching to those already godly Christians through faith in the new man; to hearers who are not to be constrained by commandments, but to be admonished. For the object is to secure voluntary renunciation of their old, sinful, Adam-like nature. He who will not cheerfully respond to friendly admonition is no Christian. And he who attempts by the restraints of law to compel the unwilling to renunciation, is no Christian preacher or ruler; he is but a worldly jailer. "By the mercies of God." 10. A teacher of the Law enforces his restraints through threats and punishments. A preacher of grace persuades and incites by calling attention to the goodness and mercy of God. The latter does not desire works prompted by an unwilling spirit, or service that is not the expression of a cheerful heart. He desires that a joyous, willing spirit shall incite to the service of God. He who cannot, by the gracious and lovely message of God's mercy so lavishly bestowed upon us in Christ, be persuaded in a spirit of love and delight to contribute to the honor of God and the benefit of his neighbor, is worthless to Christianity, and all effort is lost on him. How can one whom the fire of heavenly love and grace cannot melt, be rendered cheerfully obedient by laws and threats? Not human mercy is offered us, but divine mercy, and Paul would have us perceive it and be moved thereby. "To present your bodies." 11. Many and various were the sacrifices of the Old Testament. But all were typical of this one sacrifice of the body, offered by Christ and his Christians. And there is not, nor can be, any other sacrifice in the New Testament. What more would one, or could one, offer than himself, all he is and all he has? When the body is yielded a sacrifice, all belonging to the body is yielded also. Therefore, the Old Testament sacrifices, with the priests and all the splendor, have terminated. How does the offering of a penny compare with that of the body? Indeed, such fragmentary patchwork scarcely deserves recognition as a sacrifice when the bodies of Christ and of his followers are offered. Consequently, Isaiah may truly say that in the New Testament such beggarly works are loathsome compared to real and great sacrifices: "He that killeth an ox is as he that slayeth a man; he that sacrificeth a lamb, as he that breaketh a dog's neck; he that offereth an oblation, as he that offereth swine's blood; he that burneth frankincense, as he that blesseth an idol." Is 66, 3. Similarly, also: "What unto me is the multitude of your sacrifices? saith Jehovah: I have had enough of the burnt-offerings of rams, and the fat of fed beasts; and I delight not in the blood of bullocks, or of lambs, or of he-goats." Is 1, 11. Thus, in plain words, Isaiah rejects all other sacrifices in view of this true one. 12. Our blind leaders, therefore, have most wretchedly deceived the world by their mass-offerings, for they have forgotten this one real sacrifice. The mass may be celebrated and at the same time the soul be not benefited, but rather injured. But the body cannot be offered without benefiting the soul. Under the New Testament dispensation, then, the mass cannot be a sacrifice, even were it ever one. For all the works, all the sacrifices of the New Testament, must be true and soul-benefiting. Otherwise they are not New Testament sacrifices. It is said (Ps 25, 10), "All the paths of Jehovah are lovingkindness and truth." "A living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God." 13. Paul here makes use of the three words "living," "holy" and "acceptable," doubtless to teach that the sacrifices of the Old Testament are repealed and the entire priesthood abolished. The Old Testament sacrifices consisted of bullocks, sheep and goats. To these life was not spared. For the sacrifice they were slain, burned, consumed by the priests. But the New Testament sacrifice is a wonderful offering. Though slain, it still lives. Indeed, in proportion as it is slain and sacrificed, does it live in vigor. "If by the Spirit ye put to death the deeds of the body, ye shall live." Rom 8, 13. "For ye died, and your life is hid with Christ in God." Col 3, 3. "And they that are of Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with the passions and the lusts thereof." Gal 5, 24. 14. The word "living," then, is to be spiritually understood--as having reference to the life before God and not to the temporal life. He who keeps his body under and mortifies its lusts does not live to the world; he does not lead the life of the world. The world lives in its lusts, and according to the flesh; it is powerless to live otherwise. True, the Christian is bodily in the world, yet he does not live after the flesh. As Paul says (2 Cor 10, 3), "Though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh"; and again (Rom 8, 1), "Who walk not after the flesh." Such a life is, before God, eternal, and a true, living sacrifice. Such mortification of the body and of its lusts, whether effected by voluntary discipline or by persecution, is simply an exercise in and for the life eternal. 15. None of the Old Testament sacrifices were holy--except in an external and temporal sense--until they were consumed. For the life of the animal was but temporal and external previous to the sacrifice. But the "living sacrifice" Paul mentions is righteous before God, and also externally holy. "Holy" implies simply, being designed for the service and the honor of God, and employed of God. Hence we must here understand the word "holy" as conveying the thought that we let God alone work in us and we be simply his holy instruments. As said in First Corinthians 6, 19-20, "Your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost ... and ye are not your own ... therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's." Again (Gal 6, 17), "I bear branded on my body the marks of Jesus." Now, he who performs a work merely for his own pleasure and to his own honor, profanes his sacrifice. So also do they who by their works seek to merit reward from God, whether temporal or eternal. The point of error is, they are not yet a slain sacrifice. The sacrifice cannot be holy unless it first lives; that is, unless it is slain before God, and slain in its own consciousness, and thus does not seek its own honor and glory. 16. The Old Testament sacrifices were not in themselves acceptable to God. Nor did they render man acceptable. But in the estimation of the world--before men--they were pleasing, even regarded highly worthy. Men thought thereby to render themselves well-pleasing in God's sight. But the spiritual sacrifice is, in man's estimation, the most repugnant and unacceptable of all things. It condemns, mortifies and opposes whatever, in man's judgment, is good and well-pleasing. For, as before stated, nature cannot do otherwise than to live according to the flesh, particularly to follow its own works and inventions. It cannot admit that all its efforts and designs are vain and worthy of mortification and of death. The spiritual sacrifice is acceptable to God, Paul teaches, however unacceptable it may be to the world. They who render this living, holy sacrifice are happy and assured of their acceptance with God; they know God requires the death of the lusts and inventions of the flesh, and he alone desires to live and work in us. 17. Consequently, Paul's use of the word "body" includes more than outward, sensual vices and crimes, as gluttony, fornication, murder; it includes everything not of the new spiritual birth but belonging to the old Adam nature, even its best and noblest faculties, outer and inner; the deep depravity of self-will, for instance, and arrogance, human wisdom and reason, reliance on our own good works, on our own spiritual life and on the gifts wherewith God has endowed our nature. To illustrate: Take the most spiritual and the wisest individuals on earth, and while it is true that a fraction of them are outwardly and physically chaste, their hearts, it will be found, are filled with haughtiness, presumption and self-will, while they delight in their own wisdom and peculiar conduct. No saint is wholly free from the deep depravity of the inner nature. Hence he must constantly offer himself up, mortifying his old deceitful self. Paul calls it sacrificing the body, because the individual, on becoming a Christian, lives more than half spiritually, and the evil propensities remaining to be mortified Paul attributes to the body as to the inferior, the less important, part of man; the part not as yet wholly under the Spirit's influence. "Which is your spiritual (reasonable) service." 18. A clear distinction is here made between the services rendered God by Christians and those which the Jews rendered. The thought is: The Jews' service to God consisted in sacrifices of irrational beasts, but the service of Christians, in spiritual sacrifices--the sacrifice of their bodies, their very selves. The Jews offered gold and silver; they built an inanimate temple of wood and stone. Christians are a different people. Their sacrifices are not silver and gold. Their temple is not wood and stone; it is themselves. "Ye are a temple of God." 1 Cor 3, 16. Thus you observe the unfair treatment accorded Christians in ignoring their peculiar services and inducing the world to build churches, to erect altars and monasteries, and to manufacture bells, chalices and images by way of Christian service--works that would have been too burdensome for even the Jews. 19. In brief, this our reasonable service is rightly called a spiritual service of the heart, performed in the faith and the knowledge of God. Here Paul rejects all service not performed in faith as entirely unreasonable, even if rendered by the body and in outward act, and having the appearance of great holiness and spiritual life. Such have been the works, offerings, monkery and stringent life of the Papists, performed without the knowledge of God--having no command of God--and without spirit and heart. They have thought that so long as the works were performed they must be pleasing to God, independent of their faith. Such was also the service of the Jews in their works and offerings, and of all who knew not Christ and were without faith. Hence they were no better than the service and works of idolatrous and ignorant heathen. "And be not fashioned according to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God." 20. As before said, the world cannot endure the sight or hearing of this living sacrifice; therefore it opposes it on every side. With its provocations and threats, its enticements and persecutions, it has every advantage, aided by the fact that our minds and spirits are not occupied with that spiritual sacrifice, but we give place to the dispositions and inclinations of the world. We must be careful, then, to follow neither the customs of the world nor our own reason or plausible theories. We must constantly subdue our dispositions and control our wills, not obeying the dictates of reason and desire. Always we are to conduct ourselves in a manner unlike the way of the world. So shall we be daily changed--renewed in our minds. That is, we come each day to place greater value on the things condemned by human reason--by the world. Daily we prefer to be poor, sick and despised, to be fools and sinners, until ultimately we regard death as better than life, foolishness as more precious than wisdom, shame nobler than honor, labor more blessed than wealth, and sin more glorious than human righteousness. Such a mind the world does not possess. The mind of the world is altogether unlike the Christian's. It not only continues unchanged and unrenewed in its old disposition, but is obdurate and very old. 21. God's will is ever good and perfect, ever gracious; but it is not at all times so regarded of men. Indeed, human reason imagines it to be the evil, unfriendly, abominable will of the devil, because what reason esteems highest, best and holiest, God's will regards as nothing and worthy of death. Therefore, Christian experience must come to the rescue and decide. It must feel and prove, must test and ascertain, whether one is prompted by a sincere and gracious will. He who perseveres and learns in this way will go forward in his experience, finding God's will so gracious and pleasing he would not exchange it for all the world's wealth. He will discover that acceptance of God's will affords him more happiness, even in poverty, disgrace and adversity, than is the lot of any worldling in the midst of earthly honors and pleasures. He will finally arrive at a degree of perfection making him inclined to exchange life for death, and, with Paul, to desire to depart that sin may no more live in him, and that the will of God may be done perfectly in himself in every relation. In this respect he is wholly unlike the world; he conducts himself very differently from it. For the world never has enough of this life, while the experienced Christian is ready to be removed. What the world seeks, he avoids; what it avoids, he seeks. 22. Paul, you will observe, does not consider the Christian absolutely free from sin, since he beseeches us to be "transformed by the renewing of the mind." Where transformation and renewal are necessary, something of the old and sinful nature must yet remain. This sin is not imputed to Christians, because they daily endeavor to effect transformation and renovation. Sin exists in them against their will. Flesh and spirit are contrary to each other (Gal 5, 17), therefore we do not what we would. Rom 7, 15. Paul makes particular mention of "the mind" here, by contrast making plainer what is intended by the "body" which he beseeches them to sacrifice. The scriptural sense of the word "mind" has already been sufficiently defined as "belief," which is the source of either vice or virtue. For what I value, I believe to be right. I observe what I value, as do others. But when belief is wrong, conscience and faith have not control. Where unity of mind among men is lacking, love and peace cannot be present; and where love and faith are not present, only the world and the devil reign. Hence transformation by renewal of the mind is of vital importance. Now follows: SOBER THOUGHTS OF OURSELVES. "For I say, through the grace that was given me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but so to think as to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to every man a measure of faith." 23. Paul, in all his epistles, is careful to give this instruction to Christians. His purpose is to preserve simplicity of faith among them everywhere; to prevent sects and schisms in Christian life, which have their origin in differing minds, in diversity of belief. To make admonition the more forcible, he refers to his apostolic office; to the fact that he was, by the grace of God, chosen and sent to teach the things he advocates. His words here mean: "Ye possess many graces, but let everyone take heed to confine his belief and opinions to the limits of faith. Let him not esteem himself above another, nor attach to the gifts conferred upon himself greater value than he accords those conferred upon another. Otherwise he will be inclined to despise the lesser gifts and emphasize the more exalted ones, and to influence others to the same practice." Where there is not such humility, recourse is had to works and to the honoring of gifts, while faith is neglected. Thus belief prompts to do as the world does, to value what is exalted and to despise what is humble. 24. This principle cannot be better illustrated than by the prevailing examples of our time. For instance, monks and priests have established spiritual orders which they regard highly meritorious. In this respect they do not think soberly, but extravagantly. They imagine ordinary Christians to be insignificant in comparison with them. But their orders represent neither faith nor love, and are not commanded by God. They are peculiar, something devised by the monks and priests themselves. Hence there is division. Because of the different beliefs, numerous sects exist, each striving for first place. Consequently, all the orders become unprofitable in God's sight. The love and faith and harmony which unite Christians are dissipated. 25. Paul teaches that, however varied the gifts and the outward works, none should, because of these, esteem himself good, nor regard himself better than others. Rather, every man should estimate his own goodness by his faith. Faith is something all Christians have, though not in equal measure, some possessing more and others less. However, in faith all have the same possession--Christ. The murderer upon the cross, through faith, had Christ in himself as truly as had Peter, Paul, Abraham, the mother of the Lord, and all saints; though his faith may not have been so strong. Therefore, though gifts be unequal, the precious faith is the same. Now, if we are to glory in the treasures of faith only, not in the gifts, every man should esteem another's gifts as highly as his own, and with his own gifts serve that other who in faith possesses equal treasure with him. Then will continue loving harmony and simple faith, and none will fall back upon his own works or merits. Of this "mind," or belief, you may read further in the preceding postils, especially in the epistle selection for the third Sunday in Advent. Further comment on this text will be left for the next epistle lesson, the two being closely connected. _Second Sunday After Epiphany_ Text: Romans 12, 6-16. 6 And having gifts differing according to the grace that was given to us, whether prophecy, let us prophesy according to the proportion of our faith; 7 or ministry, let us give ourselves to our ministry; or he that teacheth, to his teaching; 8 or he that exhorteth, to his exhorting; he that giveth, let him do it with liberality; he that ruleth, with diligence; he that showeth mercy, with cheerfulness. 9 Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good. 10 In love of the brethren be tenderly affectioned one to another; in honor preferring one another; 11 in diligence not slothful; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord; 12 rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing stedfastly in prayer; 13 communicating to the necessities of the saints; given to hospitality. 14 Bless them that persecute you; bless, and curse not. 15 Rejoice with them that rejoice; weep with them that weep. 16 Be of the same mind one toward another. Set not your mind on high things, but condescend to things that are lowly. GIFTS AND WORKS OF CHRIST'S MEMBERS. 1. This lesson begins in a way that would seem to call for a portion properly belonging to the epistle for the preceding Sunday, and terminates short of its full connection. Evidently it was arranged by some unlearned and thoughtless individual, with a view simply to making convenient reading in the churches and not to its explanation to the people. It will be necessary to a clear comprehension, therefore, to note its real connections. 2. In the epistle for last Sunday, the apostle teaches that as Christians we are to renew our minds by sacrificing our bodies, thus preserving the true character of faith; that we are not to regard ourselves as good or perfect without faith, if we would avoid the rise of sects and conflicting opinions among Christians; that each is to continue firm in the measure of faith God has given him, whether it be weak or strong; that he shall use his gifts to his neighbor's profit, and then they will not be regarded special favors by the less gifted, and the common faith will be generally prized as the highest and most precious treasure, the result being satisfaction for all men. Paul next adds the simile: "For even as we have many members in one body, and all the members have not the same office: so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and severally members one of another." Then follows our selection for today, the connection being, "And having gifts differing according to the grace that was given to us," etc. Paul likens the various gifts to ourselves, the different members of the common body of Christ. It is an apt and beautiful simile, one he makes use of frequently; for instance, 1 Cor 12, 12 and Eph 4, 16. It teaches directly and clearly the equality of all Christians; that one common faith should satisfy all; that gifts are not to be regarded as making one better, happier and more righteous than another, in the eyes of God. The latter idea is certainly erroneous, and destructive of faith, which alone avails with God. WE ARE BORN MEMBERS OF CHRIST. 3. First, if we examine this simile, we shall find that all the members perform certain functions of the body because they are members of it; and no member has its place through its own efforts or its own merits. It was born a member, before the exercise of office was possible. It acts by virtue of being a member; it does not become a member by virtue of its action. It derives existence and all its powers from the body, regardless of its own exertions. The body, however, exercises its members as occasion requires. The eye has not attained its place because of its power of seeing--not because it has merited its office as an organ of sight for the body. In the very beginning it derived its existence and its peculiar function of sight from the body. It cannot, therefore, boast in the slightest degree that by its independent power of seeing it has deserved its place as an eye. It has the honor and right of its position solely through its birth, not because of any effort on its part. 4. Similarly, no Christian can boast that his own efforts have made him a member of Christ, with other Christians, in the common faith. Nor can he by any work constitute himself a Christian. He performs good works by virtue of having become a Christian, in the new birth, through faith, regardless of any merit of his own. Clearly, then, good works do not make Christians, but Christians bring forth good works. The fruit does not make the tree, but the tree produces the fruit. Seeing does not make the eye, but the eye produces vision. In short, cause ever precedes effect; effect does not produce cause, but cause produces effect. Now, if good works do not make a Christian, do not secure the grace of God and blot out our sins, they do not merit heaven. No one but a Christian can enjoy heaven. One cannot secure it by his works, but by being a member of Christ; an experience effected through faith in the Word of God. 5. How, then, shall we regard those who teach us to exterminate our sins, to secure grace, to merit heaven, all by our own works; who represent their ecclesiastical orders as special highways to heaven? What is their theory? They teach, as you observe, that cause is produced by effect. Just as if mere muscular tissue that is not a tongue becomes a tongue by fluent speaking, or becomes mouth and throat by virtue of much drinking; as if running makes feet; keen hearing, an ear; smelling, a nose; nourishment at the mother's breast, a child; suspension from the apple-tree, an apple. Beautiful specimens, indeed, would these be--fine tongues, throats and ears, fine children, fine apples. 6. What sort of foolish, perverted individuals are they who so teach? Well might you exclaim: "What impossible undertakings, what useless burdens and hardships, they assume!" Yes, what but burdens do they deserve who pervert God's truth into falsehood; who change the gifts God designed for man's benefit into acts of service rendered by man to God; who, unwilling to abide in the common faith, aspire to exalted and peculiar place as priests and beings superior to other Christians? They deserve to be overwhelmed in astonishing folly and madness, and to be burdened with useless labors and hardships in their attempts to do impossible things. They cheat the world of its blessings while they fill themselves. It is said of them (Ps 14, 4-5): "Have all the workers of iniquity no knowledge, who eat up my people as they eat bread, and call not upon Jehovah?"--that is, they live not in faith. And continuing--"There were they in great fear"; meaning that here and there they make that a matter of conscience which is not, because they cling to works and not to faith. EACH MEMBER CONTENT WITH ITS OWN POWERS. 7. In the second place, the simile teaches that each member of the body is content with the other members, and rejoices in its powers, not being solicitous as to whether any be superior to itself. For instance, the nose is inferior in office to the eye, yet in the relation they sustain to each other the former is not envious of the latter; rather, it rejoices in the superior function the eye performs. On the other hand, the eye does not despise the nose; it rejoices in all the powers of the other members. As Paul says elsewhere (1 Cor 12, 23): "Those parts of the body, which we think to be less honorable, upon these we bestow more abundant honor." Thus we see that hand and eye, regardless of their superior office, labor carefully to clothe and adorn the less honorable members. They make the best use of their own distinction to remove the dishonor and shame of the inferior members. 8. However unequal the capacities and distinction of the individual members of the body, they are equal in that they are all parts of the same body. The eye cannot claim any better right to a place in the body than the least distinguished member has. Nor can it boast greater authority over the body than any other member enjoys. And thus it does not essay to do. It grants all members equal participation in the body. Likewise, all Christians, whether strong in faith or weak, perfect or defective, share equally in Christ and are equal in Christendom. Each may appropriate the whole Christ unto himself. I may boast as much in Christ as Peter or the mother of God may boast. Nor do I envy Peter because he is a more distinguished member of the Christian Church than I. I am glad of it. On the other hand, he does not despise me for being a less honored member. I am a part of the same body to which he belongs, and I possess Christ as well as he does. 9. The self-righteous are unable to concede this equality. They must stir up sects and distinctions among Christians. Priests aspire to be better than laymen; monks better than priests; virgins than wives. The diligent, in praying and fasting, would be better than the laborer; and they who lead austere lives, more righteous than they of ordinary life. This is the work of the devil, and productive of every form of evil. Opposed to it is Christ's doctrine in our text. Under such conditions as mentioned, faith and love are subverted. The unlearned are deluded, and led away from faith to works and orders. Inequality is everywhere. The ecclesiasts desire to sit in high places, to receive all honor, to have their feet kissed, and will honor and respect none but themselves. Indeed, they would ultimately intercede for poor Christians, would be mediators between them and God, attaching no importance whatever to the stations in life occupied by these. They proceed as if they alone were members of Christ, and as if their relation to him could not be closer. Then they presume by their works to constitute others members of Christ, being careful, however, to demand adequate financial return for the service. They are members of the devil; not of Christ. EACH MEMBER SERVES ALL THE OTHERS. 10. In the third place, according to the simile each member of the body conducts itself in a manner to profit the others--the whole body. The eye prepares the way for hand and foot. The foot, in its carriage of the body, safeguards the eye. Each member ever cares for and serves the others. More beautiful figures of love and good works are not to be found than those derived from the body with its members. In the members we daily bear about with us, and with which we are continually familiar, God has described the law of love in a living and forcible manner. Upon the principle there illustrated, the Christian should act, conducting himself in a way to profit not himself but others, and having a sincere interest in them. Under such conditions, schisms and sects could not spring up among us. 11. But we are blind; we neither see nor read the beautiful lesson taught us in our own bodies. We proceed to invent good works as a means of improving our condition and bringing ourselves into a saved state. This error is attributable to our lack of faith and of heart knowledge of Christ. Hence we are restless in soul, seeking to be liberated from sin and to become righteous. The heart in its ignorance of the sufficiency of common faith, engages in these abnormal, special works. There is where foolish individuals begin to disregard faith and love, imagining such works true ways to heaven. One takes up one thing, and another something else, and so it goes, until there is nothing but sects. One sect condemns and rejects the other. Each, exalting itself beyond measure, claims superiority. EACH MEMBER SUFFERS AND REJOICES WITH ALL. 12. In the fourth place, "whether one member suffereth, all the members suffer with it; or one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it," as Paul says. 1 Cor 12, 26. In short, no member lives and acts for itself; all obey and serve one another, and the more honored members serve most. Each seems to say: "I desire not to be otherwise than as I am. I am satisfied to be a member of the same body with the others, and to have equal rights and honors therein. It is unnecessary for me to exert myself to share in that body, for I am already a member of it, and content. My efforts I direct to serving the body--all the members, my beloved brothers and partners. I assume no peculiarities. I would not cause discord and conflict." 13. Observe, this is the way all true, righteous Christians do, as we have frequently said. They who conduct themselves otherwise cannot be true Christians; they are worse--more pernicious--than heathen. They cannot refrain from instigating sects; from assuming some peculiarity, some special doctrine, wherein they proudly exalt themselves above other men. Thus they lure to themselves the hearts of the unlearned. Against this class Paul here, as everywhere, faithfully warns us. 14. See, then, that you become a member of Christ. This is to be accomplished through faith alone, regardless of works. And having become a member, if God has appointed you a duty according to your capacity, abide in it. Let no one allure you away from it. Esteem not yourself better than others, but serve them, rejoicing in their works and their offices as you do in your own, even if they are less important. Faith renders you equal with others, and others equal with you, and so on. CHRISTIAN EQUALITY AND CHRISTIAN GIFTS. Paul's design in this epistle is to teach equality. He would have no one "think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but so to think as to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to each man a measure of faith." Or, to express it differently: "Let each one regard that his work for which he has a gift, and let him perform it. But he is not consequently to esteem himself superior to others differently gifted. He should delight in their works, justly recognizing those works as of God's grace, and knowing that God distributes the measure of faith and this his grace not in one way, but in many ways." Paul's peculiar choice of words here, referring to all gifts as the grace of God and the measure of faith, is meant to teach that no man may regard his individual gift as a peculiar instance in that respect, as do they who are not of the common faith. It is the one same God, Spirit and Lord, the apostle tells us (1 Cor 12, 5-11), who effects in this work and that, whether small or great, in you or in me, in the one same faith, love and hope. 15. The importance, the nobleness and helpfulness of this doctrine is beyond our power of expression. The wretched condition of all Christendom, divided as it is into innumerable sects, is, alas, plain testimony that no body nor member, no faith nor love, seems longer to exist anywhere. Unity of mind in relation to the various gifts of God cannot exist in connection with human doctrines. Hence it is impossible for the orders and the doctrines of our ecclesiastical lords to stand with unity of mind; one or the other must fall. 16. "Measure of faith" may be understood as implying that God imparts to some more of faith itself; and to others, less. But I presume Paul's thought in employing the expression is that faith brings gifts, which are its chief blessing. These are said to be according to the measure of our faith, and not to the measure of our will or our merit. We have not merited our gifts. Where faith exists, God honors it with certain gifts, apportioned, or committed, according to his will. As we have it in First Corinthians 12, 11, "dividing to each one severally even as he will"; and in Ephesians 4, 16, "to each member according to his measure." The same reason may be assigned for Paul's words, "Having gifts differing according to the grace that was given to us," not "differing according to our merits." Grace as well as faith brings these noble jewels--our gifts--to each one according to his measure. It excludes in every respect our works and our merits, and directs us to make our works minister only to our neighbors. "Whether prophecy, let us prophesy according to the proportion of our faith." 17. The apostle enumerates several gifts, or works of Christian members, mentioning prophecy first. Prophecy is of two kinds: One is the foretelling of future events, a gift or power possessed by all the prophets under the Old Testament dispensation, and by the apostles; the other is the explanation of the Scriptures. "Greater is he that prophesieth than he that speaketh with tongues." 1 Cor 14, 5. Now, the Gospel being the last prophetic message to be delivered previous to the time of the judgment, and to predict the events of that period, I presume Paul has reference here simply to that form of prophecy he mentions in the fourteenth of First Corinthians--explanation of the Scriptures. This form is common, ever prevails, and is profitable to Christians; the other form is rare. That reference is to this form, Paul implies in his words, "Let us prophesy according to the proportion of faith." Doubtless he means the Christian faith then arising. No other faith, no other doctrine, is to be introduced. Now, when he says prophecy must be according to the proportion of faith, it is plain enough he does not refer to the foretelling of future events. 18. The apostle's meaning, then, is: "They who have the gift of Scripture explanation must be careful to explain in conformity with the faith, and not to teach contrary to its principles." "Other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ." 1 Cor 3, 11. Let every man be careful not to build upon this foundation with wood, hay, stubble--things unsuited to such a foundation; let him build with gold, silver and precious stones. Every doctrine, every explanation of the Scriptures, then, which leads us to rely upon our own works, and produces false Christians and self-righteous individuals, in the name of faith, is emphatically condemned. Any doctrine that teaches we are to exterminate our sins, to become happy and righteous and to obtain peace of conscience before God, in any other way than through faith alone--without works--is not in harmony with the Christian faith. For instance, all monastic life, and the doctrine of racketing spirits from purgatory, are in conflict with faith. 19. Paul, you will observe, does not attach so much importance to the prediction of future events; for instance, the prophecies of Lichtenberger, Joachim and others in these latter times. Such predictions, though they may gratify the curiosity of men concerning the fate of kings, princes and others of prominence in the world, are unnecessary prophecies under the New Testament dispensation. They neither teach the Christian faith nor contribute to its strength. Hence this form of prophecy may be regarded as among the least of God's gifts. More, it sometimes proceeds from the devil. But the ability to explain the Scriptures is the noblest, the best, prophetic gift. The Old Testament prophets derived their title to the name chiefly because they prophesied concerning Christ--according to Peter (Acts 4, 25 and 1 Pet 1, 10)--and because they led the people of their day in the way of faith by explaining--giving the sense of--the divine Word. These things had much more to do with their title than the fact of their making occasional predictions concerning earthly kings and temporal affairs. In general, they did not make such predictions. But the first-mentioned form of prophecy they daily delivered, without omission. The faith whereto their prophecies conformed is perpetual. 20. It is of much significance that Paul recognizes faith as the controlling judge and rule in all matters of doctrine and prophecy. To faith everything must bow. By faith must all doctrine be judged and held. You see whom Paul would constitute doctors of the holy Scriptures--men of faith and no others. These should be the judges and deciders of all doctrines. Their decision should prevail, even though it conflict with that of the Pope, of the councils, of the whole world. Faith is and must be lord and God over all teachers. Note, then, the conduct of the Church orders who failed to recognize faith's right to judge, and assumed that prerogative themselves, accepting only power, numbers and temporal rank. But you know Pope, councils and all the world, with their doctrines, must yield authority to the most insignificant Christian with faith, even though it be but a seven-year-old child, and his decision of their doctrines and laws is to be accepted. Christ commands us to take heed that we despise not one of these little ones that believe in him. See Mt 18: 6, 10. Again, he says (Jn 6, 45), "They shall all be taught of God." Now, it is inconsistent to reject the judgment of him whom God himself teaches. Rather, let all men hearken to him. "Or ministry, let us give ourselves to our ministry." 21. The office of the ministry is the second gift of God the apostle enumerates. With the early Christians the duties of this office were to serve poor widows and orphans, distributing to them temporal goods. Such were the duties of Stephen and his associates (Acts 6, 5), and such should be the duties of the stewards and provosts in monasteries today. Again, this was the office of those who ministered unto the prophets and apostles, the preachers and teachers: for instance, the women who followed Christ and served him with their substance; and Onesimus, Titus, Timothy and others of Paul's disciples. They made all necessary temporal provision, that the apostles and the preachers might give themselves uninterruptedly to preaching, teaching and prayer, and might be unencumbered with temporal affairs. 22. But things have changed, as we see. Now we have spiritual lords, princes, kings, who neglect, not alone to preach and to pray, but also to distribute temporal goods to the poor and the widow and the orphan. Rather, they pervert the rightful substance of these to add to their own pomp. They neither prophesy nor serve; yet they appropriate the position and the name of minister, their purpose being to restrain and persecute true preachers and servants, and to destroy Christianity everywhere and spend its possessions to foster their own luxury. "Or he that teacheth, to his teaching; or he that exhorteth, to his exhorting." 23. We treated of these two gifts in the epistle lesson for Christmas night. Tit 2. Teaching consists in instructing those unacquainted with faith and the Christian life; exhortation, in inciting, arousing, impelling, reproving and beseeching with all perseverance, those having knowledge of the faith. We are enjoined (2 Tim 4, 2) to be urgent, to "reprove, rebuke and exhort," that Christians may not grow weary, indolent and negligent, as too often they do, knowing already what is required of them. But prophecy must furnish the store of information for the teachers and exhorters. Scripture expositors must supply these latter. Prophesying, then, is the source of all doctrine and exhortation. "He that giveth, let him do it with liberality." 24. The mention here made of giving has reference to the fund contributed into a common treasury, in charge of servants and officers, for distribution among teachers, prophets, widows, orphans and the poor generally, as before stated. This was according to an Old Testament command. Beside the annual tithes, designed for the Levites, special tithes were to be set aside every third year for the poor, the widows and the orphans. There is no New Testament law for specific giving, for this is the day of grace, wherein everyone is admonished to give freely. Paul says (Gal 6, 6), "Let him that is taught in the word communicate unto him that teacheth in all good things." Again (verse 10), "Let us work that which is good toward all men, and especially toward them that are of the household of faith." 25. But giving is to be done with liberality--freely and gratuitously, to the honor of God alone, with no intent to secure favor, honor or profit; none shall dictate in the matter; and preference shall not be shown in giving much to the amiable and nothing to the uncongenial, as has been the case in the past in relation to the prebends and fiefs. These were distributed according to friendship and favor; for the sake of money, honor and profit. The same is true of nearly all paid services in the matter of purgatory and hell. Freely, freely, we are to give, being careful only that it be well pleasing to God and bestowed according to necessity. Paul, you will observe, frequently commends such liberality. It is rarely manifest, however. True gifts are made beyond measure, but they are unprofitable because not made with a free, liberal spirit; for instance, contributions to monasteries and other institutions. Not being given with liberality, God does not permit these gifts to be used for Christian purposes. Given in an unchristian manner, they must, in an unchristianlike way, be wasted; as Micah says (ch. 1, 7): "Of the hire of a harlot hath she gathered them, and unto the hire of a harlot shall they return." Reference is to spiritual whoredom--unbelief--which never acts with liberality. "He that ruleth, with diligence." 26. "Ruling," or overseeing, is to be understood as relating to the common offices in the Christian Church. Paul is not speaking of temporal rulers, as princes and heads of families, but of rulers in the Church. He says (1 Tim 3, 5): "If a man knoweth not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the church of God?" He means those who have oversight of Church officers generally; who take care that teachers be diligent, that deacons and ministers make proper and careful distribution of the finances, and that sinners are reproved and disciplined; in short, who are responsible for the proper execution of all offices. Such are the duties of a bishop. From their office they receive the title of bishops--superintendents and "Antistrites," as Paul here terms them; that is, overseers and rulers. 27. It is the especial duty of these to be concerned about others, not about themselves; the latter care is forbidden rather than enjoined. Mt 6, 25. Diligence in the connection in which it is used in the text, is prompted by love and not by self-interest. It being the duty of a bishop to readily assume oversight, to minister and control, and all things being dependent upon him as the movements of team and wagon are dependent upon the driver, the bishop has no time for indolence, drowsiness and negligence. He must be attentive and diligent, even though all others be slothful and careless. Were he inattentive and unfaithful, the official duties of all the others would likewise be badly executed. The result would be similar to that when the driver lies asleep and allows the team to move at will. Under such circumstances, to hope for good results is useless, especially considering the dangerous roads wherein Christians must travel here, among devils who would, in every twinkling of the eye, overthrow and destroy them. 28. Why should Paul reverse the seemingly proper order? He does not mention ruling first--give it precedence. He rather assigns to prophecy the first place, making ministering, teaching, exhorting and contributing follow successively, while ruling he places last or sixth, among the common offices. Undoubtedly, the Spirit designed such order in view of future abominations that should follow the devil's establishment of tyranny and worldly dominion among Christians. This is the case at present. Dominion occupies chief place. Everything in Christendom must yield to the wantonness of tyranny. Prophecy, ministry, teaching, exhortation, benevolence--all must give way to tyranny. Nothing may interrupt its sway; it must not yield to prophecy, teaching or any other office. 29. We must remember, however, that nothing takes precedence of the Word of God. The preaching of it transcends all other offices. Dominion is but a servant to arouse preaching to activity, like to the servant who wakes his master from sleep, or in other ways reminds him of his office. This principle confirms Christ's words (Lk 22, 26): "He that is the greater among you, let him become as the younger; and he that is chief, as he that doth serve." Teachers and prophets, however, are to be obedient to rulers and continue subject to them; each Christian work and office must subserve the others. Thus is carried out Paul's doctrine in this epistle: that one should not esteem himself better than others; should not exalt himself over men, thinking of himself more highly than he ought to think; though one gift or office is more honorable than another, yet it must also subserve that other. While the office of ruler is the lowest, yet every other appointment is subject to it; on the other hand, in care and oversight the ruler serves all others. Again, the prophet, who holds the highest office, submits to the ruler, etc. "He that showeth mercy, with cheerfulness." 30. The six preceding obligations devolve upon the common governing powers of the Christian Church--at present known as the ecclesiastical order. Paul now proceeds to enumerate duties pertaining to every member of the Church. The six first-mentioned obligations are not, however, to be individualized to the extent of making but a single obligation devolve upon one individual. He who prophesies may also teach, admonish, serve and rule. And the same is true of each office. Let every man discover unto how many offices he is called, and conduct himself accordingly. He must not exalt himself over others, as if better than they, and create sects from the common gifts of God; he must continue in the common faith of his fellows, allowing mutual service and subjection in the gifts. 31. "Mercy" implies all good deeds or benefits conferred by neighbors upon one another, aside from the regular contributions of which we have spoken. The Hebrew word the apostle uses for "mercy" is "hesed." In Latin it is "beneficium"; in Greek, "eleemosyna"; and in common parlance, "alms." It is in this sense that Christ employs the term throughout the Gospel: "When thou doest alms" (Mt 6, 2)--that is, thy good deeds, or favors; "I desire mercy, and not sacrifice" (Mt 12, 27); "He that showed mercy on him" (Lk 10, 37). And there are other similar passages where the word "mercy" is equivalent to "benefit" or "favor"; for instance (Mt 5, 7), "Blessed are the merciful." 32. Paul would say: "Let him who is himself so favored that he may confer benefits upon others, do it cheerfully and with pleasure." He declares (2 Cor 9, 7), "God loveth a cheerful giver." And he makes his meaning clear by another portion of the same verse, "not grudgingly, or of necessity." That is, the giver is not to twitter and tremble, not to be slow and tardy in his giving, nor to seek everywhere for reasons to withhold his gift. He is not to give in a way calculated to spoil the recipient's enjoyment of the favor. Nor is he to delay until the gift loses its sweetness because of the importunity required to secure it; rather he should be ready and willing. Solomon says (Prov 3, 28): "Say not unto thy neighbor, Go, and come again, and to-morrow I will give; when thou hast it by thee." "Bis dat qui cito dat." He gives doubly who gives quickly. Again, "Tarda gratia non est gratia," A tardy favor is no favor. The word "hilaris" in this connection does not imply joyful giving, but free, cheerful, willing and loving generosity, a generosity moved by slight entreaty. THE WORKS OF CHRIST'S MEMBERS. "Let love be without hypocrisy." 33. How aptly the apostle points out the danger of error in each obligation, as well as the right course! Prophecy is carried beyond its proper sphere when it does not accord with the faith. This is the danger-point in all prophecy. The common error in ministering lies in the indolence manifested therein, and the constant preference for some other occupation. Again, the prevailing error in teaching and exhorting is in giving attention to something besides those obligations; for instance, deceiving men with human nonsense. The mistake in giving is that it is seldom done with liberality. Rulers are prone to seek quiet and leisure, desiring to escape being burdened with care and anxiety. Favors are seldom bestowed cheerfully and with a willing heart. So, too, pure love is a rare thing on earth. Not that love in itself is impure, but too often it is mere pretense. John implies as much in his words (1 Jn 3, 18), "My little children, let us not love in word, neither with the tongue; but in deed and truth." 34. Now, they who harbor hatred while pretending to love, or are guilty of similar gross hypocrisies, fall far short of the spirit of this teaching. But Paul refers to those of liberated conscience, who conduct themselves like true Christians, well knowing how to teach concerning Christ; but who are careless of their works, not realizing that they neglect their neighbors and fail to assist the needy and to rebuke the wicked; who are generally negligent, bringing forth none of the fruits of faith; among whom the true Word of God is choked, like seed among thorns, as Christ says. Mt 13, 22. But we have elsewhere explained the nature of pure love. "Abhor that which is evil." 35. While to abhor evil is one of the chief principles of love, it is rare. The principle is too often lost sight of through hypocrisy and false love. We ignore, wink at, even make light of and are undisturbed by the evil deeds of our neighbor. We are unwilling to incur his displeasure by manifesting indignation and offering rebuke for his wickedness, or by withdrawing from his society. Especially do we hesitate when we thus must endanger body or life; for instance, when the vices of those in high life demand our censure. By such weakness on our part we merely dissimulate love. Paul requires, not only a secret abhorrence of evil, but an open manifestation of it in word and deed. True love is not influenced by the closeness of the friend, by the advantage of his favors, or by the standing of his connections; nor is it influenced by the perverseness of an enemy. It abhors evil, and censures it or flees from it, whether in father or mother, brother or sister, or in any other. Corrupt nature loves itself and does not abhor its own evil; rather, it covers and adorns it. Anger is styled zeal; avarice is called prudence; and deception, wisdom. "Cleave to that which is good." 36. The second feature of real, true love is that it cleaves to the good, even though found in the worst enemy, and though directly opposing love's desire. Love is no respecter of persons. It is not intimidated by the possible danger its expression might incur. But false love will dare, even for the sake of honor, profit or advantage, to forsake the good in its friend, particularly when danger threatens or persecution arises. Much less, then, will he whose love is false cleave to the good in an enemy and stand by and maintain it. And if it necessitated opposing his own interests, he would not support his enemy's deed, however good. Briefly, the proverb, "The world is false and full of infidelity," and that other saying, "Fair but empty words," clearly express the fact that the love of our corrupt human nature is false and hypocritical, and that where the Spirit of God dwells not, there is no real, pure love. These two principles--abhorring the evil and cleaving to the good--are clearly presented in Psalm 15, 4: "In whose eyes a reprobate is despised, but who honoreth them that fear Jehovah"--in other words, "Who cleaves to the good, even though it be in an enemy; and hates the evil, even though in a friend." Try men by these two principles in their lending, their dealing and giving, reproving and teaching, tolerating and suffering, and their dissimulation and hypocrisy will be readily apparent. "In love of the brethren be tenderly affectioned one to another." 37. Christians exhibit perfect love when, in addition to the love they manifest toward all men, they are themselves united by a peculiar bond of Christian affection. The term "tenderly affectioned" expresses the love parents have for children, and brothers for each other. Paul would say: "Christians are not simply to manifest a spirit of mutual love, but they are to conduct themselves toward one another in a tender, parental and brotherly way." Thus Paul boasts of doing in the case of the people of Thessalonica. 1 Thes 1, 11. Isaiah declares (ch. 66, 13) that God will so comfort the apostles: "As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you." And Peter says (1 Pet 3, 8): "Loving as brethren, tenderhearted, humbleminded." The nature of the brotherly love we owe our neighbors is illustrated in the love of an affectionate mother for her child. Such love Christ has shown, and still shows, toward us. He sustains us, frail, corrupt, sinful beings that we are. So imperfect are we, we seem not Christians at all. But the love of Christ makes us his, regardless of our imperfections. "In honor preferring one another." 38. Christ's love and friendship for ourselves should lead us to esteem one another precious. We should be dear to one another for the sake of the Christ within us. We may not reject any because of his imperfections. We must remember the Lord dwells in the weak vessel also, and honors him with his presence. If Christ regards him worthy of kindness and affection, and extends to him the same privilege in himself that we enjoy, we should bow before that weak one, honoring him as the living temple of our Lord, the seat of his presence. What matters to us the insignificance of the seat the Lord chooses? If it is not too humble to be honored with his presence, why should we his servants not honor it? "In diligence not slothful." 39. "Diligence" here implies every form of righteous work and business that occupies us. Paul requires us to be diligent, skillful and active. We are not to proceed as do they who undertake one thing today, and tomorrow another, confining themselves to nothing and soon growing weary and indolent. For instance, some readily and very zealously engage in a good work, such as praying, reading, fasting, giving, serving, disciplining the body. But after two or three attempts they become indolent and fail to accomplish the undertaking. Their ardor subsides with the gratification of their curiosity. Such people become unstable and weak. So Paul enjoins to be "Fervent in spirit." 40. A weak and somewhat curious disposition may undertake with fervor, being ready to accomplish everything at once; but in the very start it becomes faint and weak, and voluntarily yields. It becomes silent when opposition, disaffection and persecution must be encountered. The fervor that does not persevere in spiritual matters is carnal. Spiritual fervor increases with undertaking and effort. It is the nature of spirit not to know weariness. Spirit grows faint and weary only by idleness. Laboring, it increases in strength. Particularly does it gain in fervor through persecution and opposition. So it perseveres, and accomplishes its projects, even though the gates of hell oppose. "Serving the Lord." (Adapt yourselves to the time.) 41. Some renderings read, "Serve the Lord," for in the Greek "Kairos" and "Kyrios" sound much alike. One means "Time," the other "Lord." I am undecided which is preferable. "Serve the time"--"adapt yourselves to the time"--would be apt. And "Serve the Lord" would not be a bad construction. Let each choose for himself. To serve the Lord means to let all our acts be done as unto the Lord himself, in the effort to serve him, not seeking our own honor, and not neglecting our duty for fear of men or because of their favors; it means to follow the spirit of Nehemiah's declaration when the temple was being built (Neh 2, 20)--We are servants of the God of Heaven. Such was the reply of the Jews to those who attempted to hinder them. Practically, the Jews said: "We do not serve ourselves. Our service is not designed for our own honor, but for the honor of the God of Heaven." I shall, however, adhere to the rendering, "Adapt yourselves to the time." It is equivalent to saying: Direct yourselves according to the time. That is, employ it well; be seasonable, in keeping with Solomon's words (Ec 3, 3-4): "A time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh," etc. There is a time for everything. The thought is, Exercise your privileges, confining yourself to no particular time; be able to do the duty that presents itself, as Psalm 1, 3 suggests: "He shall be like a tree ... that bringeth forth its fruit in its season." 42. This valuable and excellent doctrine militates against the self-righteous, who confine themselves to set times, to the extent of making the time conform to them and adapt itself to their convenience. They observe particular hours for praying, for eating, for drinking. Should you, in dire need of aid, approach one of them, you might perish before he would disengage himself to assist you. Note, the self-righteous man does not adapt himself to the time--does not rise to the occasion as he should. The opportunity to perform a work of love, he permits to pass. The time must be suited to him--which will never be. No opportunity to do good ever presents itself to this class, for they are so absorbed in themselves as to permit every such occasion to pass. Nor are they seasonable in things concerning themselves. They laugh when they should weep; they are gloomy when they should rejoice; they flatter when censure is due. All their efforts are untimely. It is their fortune to miss every opportunity in consequence of confining their endeavors to certain times. This is the way of the world. "Rejoicing in hope." 43. Here is an occasion, truly, when we should be timely. The ungodly rejoice when satiate with wealth, honor and ease, but are filled with gloom at a change in the weather. Their joy is untimely as well as their grief. They rejoice when they should grieve, and grieve when they should rejoice. But Christians are capable of rejoicing, not in ease and temporal advantage, but in God. They rejoice most when their worldly condition is worst. The farther earthly advantages are removed, the nearer is God with his eternal blessings. Paul enumerates joy among the fruits of the Spirit (Gal 5, 22); the flesh knows not such pleasure. In Romans 14, 17, he speaks of "joy in the Holy Spirit." "Patient in tribulation." 44. Throughout the Gospel we are taught that Christians must endure crosses and evil days. Hence the Gospel arms us with divine armor, and that alone. That is, it teaches us, not how to avert temporal ills and to enjoy peace, but how to endure and conquer these ills. We are not to oppose and try to avert them, but patiently to endure them until they wear themselves out upon us, and lose their power; as ocean waves, dashing against the shore, recede and vanish of their own accord. Not yielding, but perseverence, shall win here. But of this topic we have treated during the Advent season. "Continuing stedfastly in prayer." 45. Prayer has been sufficiently defined in the third epistle for Advent. Paul does not allude to babbling out of prayer-books, nor to bawling in the Church. You will never offer true prayer from a book. To be sure, you may, by reading a prayer, learn how and what to pray, and have your devotion enkindled; but real prayer must proceed spontaneously from the heart, not in prescribed words; the language must be dictated by the fervor of the soul. Paul particularly specifies that we are to be "stedfast in prayer." In other words, we should not become remiss, even though we do not immediately receive what we ask. The chief thing in prayer is faith. Faith relies on God's promise to hear its petition. It may not receive at once what it is confident of receiving; but it waits, and though for a time there may be indications of failure, yet the petition is granted. Christ gives striking illustrations of such perseverence in the parable of the wicked judge (Lk 18), and in that of the friend's importunity (Lk 11). He everywhere teaches the necessity of faith in prayer. "Whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive," Mt 21, 22. And again, "Or what man is there of you, who, if his son shall ask him for a loaf, will give him a stone?" Mt 7, 9. "Communicating to the necessities of the saints." 46. The meaning of this injunction is shamefully perverted. In our necessities we daily seek the assistance of saints. Hence the numerous institutions, altars and services to these, everywhere in the world. Paul's teaching, however, is that we are to "communicate to the necessity of the saints." Since we ignore the sanctified ones of this life who need our assistance, we are well rewarded by having to go to the dead to solicit aid in our necessities. Paul means the saints on earth--the Christians. He calls them saints out of respect to the Word of God and his grace, which, in faith, renders them holy without works. 47. It would be a great shame, a blasphemy, for a Christian to deny that he is holy. It would be equivalent to denying the holiness of the blood of Christ, of the Word, the Spirit, the grace of God, and of God himself. And all these God has applied to or conferred upon the Christian to render him holy. Paul does not hesitate to call himself a saint (Eph 3, 8): "Unto me who am less than the least of all saints, was this grace given." And (1 Tim 5, 10) he would relieve widows who washed the feet of the saints. It is also said in Psalm 86, 2, "Preserve my soul; for I am godly [holy]." Peter, too (1 Pet 1, 16), quoting from Moses, speaks God's message, "Ye shall be holy; for I am holy." The word "holy" in the Scriptures has reference only to the living. But we have had books other than the Scriptures to read. Consequently we have been led by our seducers into the humiliating wickedness of calling holy only the dead, and regarding it the highest presumption to apply the term to ourselves. At the same time we are all desirous of being called "Christians," a sublimer title than "holy"; for Christ is perfect holiness, and Christians are named after Christ--after perfect holiness. The shameful abomination known as "the exaltation of saints" is responsible for the deplorable error here. The Pope's influence has created the belief that only they are holy who are dead, or whose works have exalted them to the honor of the title. But how often is the devil exalted as a saint, and how often we regard them saints who are of hell! 48. Paul's design in mentioning "the necessities of the saints" is to teach and move us to do as much for Christians as we are inclined to do for the saints of heaven; to regard such ministration as precious service, for so it is. He commends to us the real saints--those in want; who are of saintly character, though they may be forsaken, hungry, naked, imprisoned, half-dead, regarded by the world as ungodly evil-doers deserving of every form of misfortune; who, unable to help themselves, need assistance. They differ much from those saints whose help we, staring heavenward, implore. It is the poor Christians whom Christ will array on the last day, saying, "Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of these my brethren, even these least, ye did it unto me." Mt 25, 40. Then they who so ostentatiously served the blessed of heaven must stand shamed and afraid in the presence of those whom in this life they scorned to respect as they should. Nor will the saints whom they bound themselves to serve, and whom they worshiped, avail them anything. "Given to hospitality." 49. Now, Paul specifies concerning the "necessities of the saints" and names the treatment to be accorded them. Not only in word are we to remember them, but in deed, extending hospitality as their necessities demand. "Hospitality" stands for every form of physical aid when occasion calls for it--feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked. In the early days of the Gospel, the apostles and disciples did not sit in palaces, cloisters, institutions, and torture the people with edicts and commands as do the idolatrous bishops today. Pilgrim-like, they went about the country, having no house nor home, no kitchen nor cellar, no particular abiding-place. It was necessary that everywhere hospitality be extended the saints, and service rendered them, that the Gospel might be preached. This was as essential as giving assistance in their distresses and sufferings. "Bless them that persecute you." 50. Incidental to the subject of the saints' necessities, the apostle reminds us we are to conduct ourselves in a Christian manner toward our persecutors, who, to great extent, are to blame for the distresses of the saints. It is well to observe here that we are not merely advised, but commanded, to love our enemies, to do them good and to speak well of them; such conduct is the fruit of the Spirit. We must not believe what we have heretofore been taught--that the admonition comes only to the perfect, and that they are merely counseled to bless their persecutors. Christ teaches (Mt 5, 44) that all Christians are commanded so to do. And to "bless" our persecutors means to desire for them only good in body and soul. For instance, if an enemy detracts from our honor, we should respond, "God honor you and keep you from disgrace." Or if one infringe upon our rights, we ought to say, "May God bless and prosper you." On this wise should we do. "Bless, and curse not." 51. This is to be our attitude toward mankind generally, whether persecutors or otherwise. The meaning is: "Not only bless your persecutors, but live without curses for any, with blessings for all; wishing no one evil, but everyone only good." For we are children of blessing; as Peter says: "Hereunto were ye called, that ye should inherit a blessing." 1 Pet 3, 9. In our blessing, all the world is blessed--through Christ. "In thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed." Gen 22, 18. It is inconsistent for a Christian to curse even his most bitter enemy and an evil-doer; for he is commanded to bear upon his lips the Gospel. The dove did not bring to Noah in the ark a poisonous branch or a thistle sprig; she brought an olive-leaf in her mouth. Gen 8, 11. The Gospel likewise is simply a gracious, blessed, glad and healing word. It brings only blessing and grace to the whole world. No curse, but pure blessing, goes with the Gospel. The Christian's lips, then, must be lips of blessing, not of cursing. If they curse, they are not the lips of a Christian. 52. It is necessary, however, to distinguish between cursing and censuring or reproving. Reproof and punishment greatly differ from cursing and malediction. To curse means to invoke evil, while censuring carries the thought of displeasure at existing evil, and an effort to remove it. In fact, cursing and censuring are opposed. Cursing invokes evil and misfortune; censure aims to remove them. Christ himself censured, or reproved. He called the Jews a generation of vipers, children of the devil, hypocrites, blind dolts, liars, and so on. He did not curse them to perpetuate their evils; rather he desired the evils removed. Paul does similarly. He says of the sorcerer that he is a child of the devil and full of subtilty. Acts 13, 10. Again, the Spirit reproves the world of sin. Jn 16, 8. 53. But the strong argument is here urged that the saints of the Scriptures not only censured, but cursed. Jacob, the patriarch, cursed his sons Reuben, Simeon and Levi. Gen 49, 7. A great part of the Law of Moses is made up of curses, especially Deut 28, 15. Open cursing is commanded to be pronounced by the people, on Mount Ebal. Deut 27, 13. How much cursing we find in the Psalms, particularly Psalm 109. Again, how David cursed Joab, captain of his host! 2 Sam 3, 29. How bitterly Peter curses Simon (Acts 8, 20): "Thy silver perish with thee." Paul curses the seducers of the Galatians (Gal 5, 12), "I would they were even cut off." And he says (1 Cor 16, 22), "If any man loveth not the Lord, let him be anathema." Christ cursed the innocent fig-tree. Mt 21, 19. And Elisha cursed the children of Bethel. 2 Kings 2, 24. What shall we say to these things? 54. I answer: We must distinguish between love and faith. Love must not curse; it must always bless. But faith has power to curse. Faith makes us children of God, and is to us in God's place. Love makes us servants of men, and occupies the place of a servant. Without the Spirit's direction, no one can rightly understand and imitate such examples of cursing. Cursing stands opposed to cursing--the curses of God to the curses of the devil. When the devil, through his followers, resists, destroys, obstructs, the Word of God--the channel of the blessing--the blessing is impeded, and in God's sight a curse rests upon the blessing. Then it is the office of faith to come out with a curse, desiring the removal of the obstruction that God's blessing may be unhindered. 55. Were one, with imprecation, to invoke God to root out and destroy popery--the order of priests, monks and nuns, together with the cloisters and other institutions, the whole world might well say, Amen. For these the devil's devices curse, condemn and impede everywhere God's Word and his blessing. These things are evils so pernicious, so diabolical, they do not merit our love. The more we serve the ecclesiasts and the more we yield to them, the more obdurate they become. They rant and rage against the Word of God and the Spirit, against faith and love. Such conduct Christ calls blasphemy--sin--against the Holy Spirit--unpardonable sin. Mt 12, 31. And John says (1 Jn 5, 16), "There is a sin unto death; not concerning this do I say that he should make request." With the ecclesiasts all is lost. They will not accept any love or assistance which does not leave them in their wickedness, does not strengthen and help--even honor and exalt--them in it. Any effort you may make otherwise will but cause them to rage against the Holy Spirit, to blaspheme and curse your teaching, declaring: "It proceeds not from love and fidelity to God, but from the hate, the malice, of the devil. It is not the Word of God, but falsehood. It is the devil's heresy and error." 56. In fact, cursing which contributes only to the service of God is a work of the Holy Spirit. It is enjoined in the first commandment, and is independent of and superior to love. Until God commands us to do a certain good work or to manifest our love toward our neighbor, we are under no obligation so to do. His will transcends all the good works we can do, all the love we can show our neighbor. Even if I could save the entire world in a single day and it were not God's will I should, I would have no right to do it. Therefore, I should not bless, should not perform a good work, should not manifest my love to any, unless it be consistent with the will and command of God. The measure of our love to our neighbors is the Word of God. Likewise, by the first commandment all other commandments are to be measured. We might, in direct violation of the commandments of the second table, were it consistent with God's will and promotive of his honor, obey the first commandment in killing, robbing, taking captive women and children and disobeying father and mother, as did the children of Israel in the case of their heathen enemies. Likewise the Holy Spirit is able to, and does at times, perform works seemingly opposed to all the commandments of God. While apparently there is violation in some respects, it is in reality only of the commandments of the second table, concerning our neighbor. The Spirit's works are in conformity with the first three commandments of the first table, relating to God. Therefore, if you first become a Peter, a Paul, a Jacob, a David, an Elisha, you too may curse in God's name, and with exalted merit in his sight. "Rejoice with them that rejoice; weep with them that weep." 57. There may be a direct connection between these two commands and the injunction about "communicating to the necessities of the saints" upon which Paul has been expatiating, teaching how we are to treat our persecutors, who are largely to blame for the "necessities" of Christians. Yet I am inclined to think he speaks here in an unrelated way, of our duty to make ourselves agreeable to all men, to adapt ourselves to their circumstances, whether good or ill, whether or no they are in want. As common servants, we should minister to mankind in their every condition, that we may persuade them to accept the Gospel. Paul speaks further on this point. 58. Now, if a fellow-man have reason to rejoice, it is not for us to put on a stern countenance, as do the hypocrites, who assume to be somewhat peculiar. Their unnatural seriousness is meant to be indicative of their unrivaled wisdom and holiness, and of the fact that men who rejoice instead of wearing, as they do, a stern look, are fools and sinners. But no, we are to participate in the joy of our fellow-man when that joy is not inconsistent with the will of God. For instance, we should rejoice with the father who joys in the piety and sweetness of his wife, in her health and fruitfulness, and in the obedience and intelligence of his children; and when he is as well off as we are so far as soul, body and character, family and property, are concerned. These are gifts of God. According to Paul (Acts 14, 17), they are given that God may fill our hearts "with food and gladness." Though many such gifts and pleasures are improperly used, they are nevertheless the gifts of God and not to be rejected with a gloomy face as if we dare not, or should not, enjoy them. On the other hand, we ought to weep with our fellow-man when he is in sad circumstances, as we would weep over our own unhappy condition. We read (2 Sam 1, 17; 3, 33) that David lamented for Saul, Jonathan and Abner, and (Phil 2, 27) that Paul was filled with sorrow over the illness of Epaphroditus and grieved as if the affliction were his own. "Be of the same mind one toward another." 59. The apostle has previously (verse 10) spoken concerning unity of mind in relation to God-ordained spiritual gifts, counseling that everyone should be content as to the offices and gifts of his fellows. Now Paul speaks of the temporal affairs of men, teaching likewise mutual appreciation of one another's calling and character, offices and works, and that none is to esteem himself better than another because of these. The shoemaker's apprentice has the same Christ with the prince or the king; the woman, the same Christ the man has. While there are various occupations and external distinctions among men, there is but one faith and one Spirit. 60. But this doctrine of Paul has long been dishonored. Princes, lords, nobles, the rich and the powerful, reflect themselves in themselves, thinking they are the only men on earth. Even among their own ranks, one aspires to be more exalted, more noble and upright, than another. Their notions and opinions are almost as diverse as the clouds of heaven. They are not of the same mind concerning external distinctions. One does not esteem another's condition and occupation as significant and as honorable as his own. The individual sentiment apparently is: "My station is the best; all others are revolting." The clumsy, booted peasant enters the strife. The baker aspires to be better than the barber; the shoemaker, than the bath-keeper. Should one happen to be illegitimately born, he is not eligible to a trade, though he even be holy. Certificates of legitimate birth must be produced, and such is the complex state of society, there are as many beliefs as masters and servants. How can there be unity of mind concerning spiritual offices and blessings with people so at variance upon trivial, contemptible worldly matters? True, there must be the various earthly stations, characters and employments; but it is heathenish, unchristian and worldly for one to entertain the absurd idea that God regards a certain individual a better Christian than another upon the contemptible grounds of his temporal station, and not to perceive that in God's sight these conditions make no inner difference. 61. Indeed, it is not only unchristian, but effeminate and childish, to hold such a view. A woman will win distinction for herself by handling the spindle or the needle more deftly than another, or by adjusting her bonnet more becomingly than her neighbor can; in fact, she may secure prominence by things even more insignificant. To say the least, no woman thinks herself less a woman than any other. The same is true of children; each is best satisfied with its own bread and butter, and thinks its own toy the prettiest; if it does not, it will cry until it gets its prettiest. And so it is with the world: one has more power, another is a better Christian, another is more illustrious; one has more learning, another is more respectable; one is of this lineage, another that. These distinctions are the source of hatred, murder and every form of evil, so tenaciously does each individual adhere to his own notions. Yet, despite their separate and dissimilar opinions, men call themselves Christians. "Set not your mind on high things." 62. Here Paul makes clear the preceding injunction. He would restrain men from their unholy conceits. As before stated, every man is best pleased with his own ideas. Hence foolishness pervades the land. One, seeing another honored above himself, is restlessly ambitious to emulate that other. But he acts contrary to both teachings of Paul: Comparing himself to his inferiors or to his equals, he thinks he is far above them, and his own station most honorable. Comparing himself with his superiors, he sees his pretended rank fail; hence he strives to rival them, devoting all his energies to attain the enviable position. Clinging to external distinctions, his changing notions and unstable heart impel him to such ambition and render him dissatisfied with the Christ whom all men possess alike. But what does Paul teach? Not so. He says, "Set not your mind on what the world values." His meaning is: "Distinctions truly must there be in this life--one thing high, another low. Everything cannot be gold, nor can all things be straw. Nevertheless, among men there should be unity of mind in this relation." God treats men alike. He gives his Word and his Spirit to the lowly as well as to the high. Paul does not use the little word "mind" undesignedly. "High things" have their place and they are not pernicious. But to "mind" them, to be absorbed in them with the whole heart, to be puffed up with conceit because of our relation to them, enjoying them to the disadvantage of the less favored--this is heathenish. "But condescend to things that are lowly." 63. In other words: Despise not lowly stations and characters. Say not, they must either be exalted or removed. God uses them; indeed, the world cannot dispense with them. Where would the wealthy and powerful be if there were no poor and humble? As the feet support the body, so the low support the high. The higher class, then, should conduct themselves toward the lowly as the body holds itself with relation to the feet; not "minding," or regarding, their lofty station, but conforming to and recognizing with favor the station of the lowly. Legal equality is here made a figure of spiritual things--concerning the aspirations of the heart. Christ conducted himself with humility. He did not deny his own exaltation, but neither was he haughty toward us by reason of it. He did not despise us, but stooped to our wretched condition and raised us by means of his own exalted position. _Third Sunday After Epiphany_ Text: Romans 12, 16-21. 16 Be not wise in your own conceits. 17 Render to no man evil for evil. Take thought for things honorable in the sight of all men. 18 If it be possible, as much as in you lieth, be at peace with all men. 19 Avenge not yourselves, beloved, but give place unto the wrath of God: for it is written, Vengeance belongeth unto me; I will recompense, saith the Lord. 20 But if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him to drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head. 21 Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good. CHRISTIAN REVENGE.[1] [Footnote 1: This and the last sermon are one in some editions. Hence the paragraphs are numbered as one sermon.] "Be not wise in your own conceits." 64. The lesson as read in the Church ends here. We shall, therefore, notice but briefly the remaining portion. "Conceits," as here used, signifies the obstinate attitude with regard to temporal things which is maintained by that individual who is unwilling to be instructed, who himself knows best in all things, who yields to no one and calls good whatever harmonizes with his ideas. The Christian should be more willing to make concession in temporal affairs. Let him not be contentious, but rather yielding, since the Word of God and faith are not involved, it being only a question of personal honor, of friends and of worldly things. "Render to no man evil for evil." 65. In the counsel above (verse 14) to "curse not," the writer of the epistle has in mind those unable to avenge themselves, or to return evil for evil. These have no alternative but to curse, to invoke evil upon their oppressors. In this instance, however, the reference is to those who have equal power to render one another evil for evil, malice for malice, whether by acts committed or omitted--and usually they are omitted. But the Christian should render good for evil, and omit not. God suffers his sun to shine upon the evil and upon the good. Mt 5, 45. "Take thought for things honorable in the sight of all men." 66. This injunction is similar to that he gives the Thessalonians (1 Thes 5, 22), "Abstain from all appearance of evil"; and the Philippians (ch. 4, 8): "Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." The reference is purely to our outward conduct. Paul would not have the Christian think himself at liberty to do his own pleasure, regardless of others' approbation. Only in the things of faith is such the Christian's privilege. His outward conduct should be irreproachable, acceptable to all men; in keeping with the teaching of first Corinthians, 10, 32-33, to please all men, giving offense neither to Jews nor to Gentiles; and obedient to Peter's advice (1 Pet 2, 12), "Having your behavior seemly among the Gentiles." "If it be possible, as much as in you lieth, be at peace with all men." 67. Outward peace among men is here intended--peace with Christians and heathen, with the godly and the wicked, the high and the low. We must give no occasion for strife; rather, we are to endure every ill patiently, never permitting peace to be disturbed on our account. We must not return evil for evil, blow for blow; for he who so does, gives rise to contention. Paul adds, "As much as in you lieth." We are to avoid injuring any, lest we be the ones to occasion contention. We must extend friendliness to all men, even though they be not friendly to us. It is impossible to maintain peace at all times. The saying is, "I can continue in peace only so long as my neighbor is willing." But it lies in our power to leave others at peace, friends and foes, and to endure the contentions of all. "Oh yes," you say, "but where would we be then?" Listen: "Avenge not yourselves, beloved, but give place unto the wrath of God: for it is written, Vengeance belongeth unto me; I will recompense, saith the Lord." 68. Note, in forbidding us to return blow for blow and to resort to vengeance, the apostle implies that our enjoyment of peace depends on our quiet endurance of others' disturbance. He not only gives us assurance that we shall be avenged, but he intimidates us from usurping the office of God, to whom alone belong vengeance and retribution. Indeed, he rather deplores the fate of the Christian's enemies, who expose themselves to God's wrath; he would move us to pity them in view of the fact that we must give place to wrath and permit them to fall into the hands of God. The vengeance and wrath of God are dispensed in various ways: through the instrumentality of political government; at the hands of the devil; by illness, hunger and pestilence; by fire and water; by war, enmity, disgrace; and by every possible kind of misfortune on earth. Every creature may serve as the rod and the weapon of God when he designs chastisement. As said in Wisdom of Solomon, 5, 17: "He shall ... make the creature his weapon for the revenge of his enemies." 69. So Paul says, "Give place unto wrath." I have inserted the words "of God" to make clearer the meaning of the text; the wrath of God is intended, and not the wrath of man. The thought is not of giving place to the anger of our enemies. True, there may be occasion even for that, but Paul has not reference here to man's anger. Evidently, he means misfortunes and plagues, which are regarded as expressions of God's wrath. Possibly the apostle omitted the phrase to avoid giving the idea that only the final wrath of God is meant--his anger at the last day, when he will inflict punishment without instrumentality. Paul would include here all wrath, whether temporal or eternal, to which God gives expression in his chastisements. This is an Old Testament way of speaking. Phinehas says (Jos 22, 18), "To-morrow he will be wroth with ... Israel." And Moses in several places speaks of God's anger being kindled. See Numbers 11: 1, 10, 33. I mention these things by way of teaching that when the political government wields the sword of punishment against its enemies, it should be regarded as an expression of God's wrath; and that the statement in Deuteronomy 32, 35, "Vengeance is mine," does not refer solely to punishment inflicted of God direct, without instrumentality. "But if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him to drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head." 70. This teaching endorses what I have already stated--that the Christian's enemies are to be pitied in that they are subjected to the wrath of God. Consequently it is not Christian-like to injure them; rather, we should extend favors. Paul here introduces a quotation from Solomon. Prov 25, 21-22. Heaping coals of fire on the head, to my thought, implies conferring favors upon the enemy. Being enkindled by our kindness, he ultimately becomes displeased with himself and more kindly disposed to us. Coals here are benefits, or favors. Coals in the censer likewise stand for the favors, or blessings, of God; they are a type of our prayers, which should rise with fervor. Some say that coals represent the Law and judgments of God (see Psalm 18, 8, "Coals were kindled by it"), reasoning that in consequence of the Christian's favors, his enemy is constrained to censure himself and to feel the weight of God's Law and his judgments. I do not think a Christian should desire punishment to fall upon his enemy, though such explanation of the sentence is not inapt. In fact, it rather accords with the injunction, "Give place unto wrath"; that is, do good and then wrath--the coals--will readily fall upon the enemy. "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." 71. With this concluding counsel, it strikes me, Paul himself explains the phrase "coals of fire" in harmony with the first idea--that the malice of an enemy is to be overcome with good. Overcoming by force is equivalent to lending yourself to evil and wronging the enemy who wrongs you. By such a course your enemy overcomes you and you are made evil like himself. But if you overcome him with good, he will be made righteous like you. A spiritual overcoming is here meant; the disposition, the heart, the soul--yes, the devil who instigates the evil--are overcome. _Fourth Sunday After Epiphany_ Text: Romans 13, 8-10. 8 Owe no man anything, save to love one another: for he that loveth his neighbor hath fulfilled the law. 9 For this, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not covet, and if there be any other commandment, it is summed up in this word, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. 10 Love worketh no ill to his neighbor; love therefore is the fulfilment of the law. CHRISTIAN LOVE AND THE COMMAND TO LOVE. 1. This, like the two preceding epistle lessons, is admonitory, and directs our attention to the fruits of faith. Here, however, Paul sums up briefly all the fruits of faith, in love. In the verses going before he enjoined subjection to temporal government--the rendering of tribute, custom, fear and honor wherever due--since all governmental power is ordained of God. Then follows our lesson: "Owe no man anything," etc. 2. I shall ignore the various explanations usually invented for this command, "Owe no man anything, but to love one another." To me, clearly and simply it means: Not as men, but as Christians, are we under obligations. Our indebtedness should be the free obligation of love. It should not be compulsory and law-prescribed. Paul holds up two forms of obligation: one is inspired by law, the other by love. Legal obligations make us debtors to men; an instance is when one individual has a claim upon another for debt. The duties and tribute, the obedience and honor, we owe to political government are of this legal character. Though personally these things are not essential to the Christian--they do not justify him nor make him more righteous--yet, because he must live here on earth, he is under obligation, so far as outward conduct is concerned, to put himself on a level with other men in these things, and generally to help maintain temporal order and peace. Christ paid tribute money as a debt (Mt 17, 27), notwithstanding he had told Peter he was under no obligation to do so and would have committed no sin before God in omitting the act. 3. Another obligation is love, when a Christian voluntarily makes himself a servant of all men. Paul says (1 Cor 9, 19), "For though I was free from all men, I brought myself under bondage to all." This is not a requirement of human laws; no one who fails in this duty is censured or punished for neglect of legal obligations. The world is not aware of the commandment to love; of the obligation to submit to and serve a fellow-man. This fact is very apparent. Let one have wealth, and so long as he refrains from disgracing his neighbor's wife, from appropriating his neighbor's goods, sullying his honor or injuring his person, he is, in the eyes of the law, righteous. No law punishes him for avarice and penuriousness; for refusing to lend, to give, to aid, and to help his wronged neighbor secure justice. Laws made for restraint of the outward man are directed only toward evil works, which they prohibit and punish. Good works are left to voluntary performance. Civil law does not extort them by threats and punishment, but commends and rewards them, as does the Law of Moses. 4. Paul would teach Christians to so conduct themselves toward men and civil authority as to give no occasion for complaint or censure because of unfulfilled indebtedness to temporal law. He would not have them fail to satisfy the claims of legal obligation, but rather to go beyond its requirements, making themselves debtors voluntarily and serving those who have no claims on them. Relative to this topic, Paul says (Rom 1, 14), "I am debtor both to Greeks and to Barbarians." Love's obligation enables a man to do more than is actually required of him. Hence the Christian always willingly renders to the state and to the individual all service exacted by temporal regulations, permitting no claims upon himself in this respect. 5. Paul's injunction, then, might be expressed: Owe all men, that you may owe none; owe everything, that you may owe nothing. This sounds paradoxical. But one indebtedness is that of love, an obligation to God. The other is indebtedness to temporal law, an obligation in the eyes of the world. He who makes himself a servant, who takes upon himself love's obligation to all men, goes so far that no one dares complain of omission; indeed, he goes farther than any could desire. Thus he is made free. He lives under obligation to no one from the very fact that he puts himself under obligation to all. This manner of presenting the thought would be sustained by the Spirit in connection with other duties; for instance: Do no good work, that you may do only good works. Never be pious and holy, if you would be always pious and holy. As Paul says (ch. 12, 16), "Be not wise in your own conceits"; or (1 Cor 3, 18), "If any man thinketh that he is wise among you in this world, let him become a fool, that he may become wise." It is in this sense we say: Owe all men that you may owe no man; or, "Owe no man anything, but to love one another." 6. Such counsel is given with the thought of the two obligations. He who would perform works truly good in the sight of God, must guard against works seemingly brilliant in the eyes of the world, works whereby men presume to become righteous. He who desires to be righteous and holy must guard against the holiness attained by works without faith. Again, the seeker for wisdom must reject the wisdom of men, of nature, wisdom independent of the Spirit. Similarly, he who would be under obligation to none must obligate himself to all in every respect. So doing, he retains no claim of his own. Consequently, he soon rises superior to all law, for law binds only those who have claims of their own. Rightly is it said, "Qui cedit omnibus bonis, omnibus satisfecit," "He who surrenders all his property, satisfies all men." How can one be under obligation when he does not, and cannot, possess anything? It is love's way to give all. The best way, then, to be under obligation to none is, through love to obligate one's self in every respect to all men. In this sense it may be said: If you would live, die; if you would not be imprisoned, incarcerate yourself; if you do not desire to go to hell, descend there; if you object to being a sinner, be a sinner; if you would escape the cross, take it upon yourself; if you would conquer the devil, let him vanquish you; would you overcome a wicked individual, permit him to overcome you. The meaning of it all is, we should readily submit to God, to the devil and to men, and willingly permit their pleasure; we are to insist on nothing, but to accept all things as they transpire. This is why Paul speaks as he does, "Owe no man anything," etc., instead of letting it go at the preceding injunction in verse 5, "Render therefore to all their dues," etc. LOVE FULFILS THE LAW. "For he that loveth his neighbor hath fulfilled the law." 7. Having frequently spoken of the character and fruits of love, it is unnecessary to introduce the subject here. The topic is sufficiently treated in the epistle lesson for the Sunday preceding Lent. We will look at the command to love, in the Law of God. Innumerable, endless, are the books and doctrines produced for the direction of man's conduct. And there is still no limit to the making of books and laws. Note the ecclesiastical and civil regulations, the spiritual orders and stations. These laws and doctrines might be tolerated, might be received with more favor, if they were founded upon and administered according to the one great law--the one rule or measure--of love; as the Scriptures do, which present many different laws, but all born of love, and comprehended in and subject to it. And these laws must yield, must become invalid, when they conflict with love. Of Love's higher authority we find many illustrations in the Scriptures. Christ makes particular mention of the matter in Matthew 12, 3-4, where David and his companions ate the holy showbread. Though a certain law prohibited all but the priests from partaking of this holy food, Love was empress here, and free. Love was over the Law, subjecting it to herself. The Law had to yield for the time being, had to become invalid, when David suffered hunger. The Law had to submit to the sentence: "David hungers and must be relieved, for Love commands, Do good to your needy neighbor. Yield, therefore, thou Law. Prevent not the accomplishment of this good. Rather accomplish it thyself. Serve him in his need. Interpose not thy prohibitions." In connection with this same incident, Christ teaches that we are to do good to our neighbor on the Sabbath; to minister as necessity demands, whatever the Sabbath restrictions of the Law. For when a brother's need calls, Love is authority and the Law of the Sabbath is void. 8. Were laws conceived and administered in love, the number of laws would matter little. Though one might not hear or learn all of them, he would learn from the one or two he had knowledge of, the principle of love taught in all. And though he were to know all laws, he might not discover the principle of love any more readily than he would in one. Paul teaches this method of understanding and mastering law when he says: "Owe no man anything, but to love one another"; "He that loveth another hath fulfilled the law"; "If there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself"; "Love worketh no ill to his neighbor"; "Love is the fulfilling of the law." Every word in this epistle lesson proves Love mistress of all law. 9. Further, no greater calamity, wrong and wretchedness is possible on earth than the teaching and enforcing of laws without love. In such case, laws are but a ruinous curse, making true the proverbs, "summum jus, summa injustitia," "The most strenuous right is the most strenuous wrong"; and again, Solomon's words (Ec 7, 17), "Noli nimium esse justus," "Be not righteous overmuch." Here is where we leave unperceived the beam in our own eye and proceed to remove the mote from our neighbor's eye. Laws without love make the conscience timid and fill it with unreasonable terror and despair, to the great injury of body and soul. Thus, much trouble and labor are incurred all to no purpose. 10. An illustration in point is the before-mentioned incident of David in his hunger. 1 Sam 21, 6. Had the priest been disposed to refuse David the holy bread, had he blindly insisted on honoring the prohibitions of the Law and failed to perceive the authority of Love, had he denied this food to him who hungered, what would have been the result? So far as the priest's assistance went, David would have had to perish with hunger, and the priest would have been guilty of murder for the sake of the Law. Here, indeed, "summum jus, summa injustitia"--the most strenuous right would have been the most strenuous wrong. Moreover, on examining the heart of the priest who should be so foolish, you would find there the extreme abomination of making sin where there is no sin, and a matter of conscience where there is no occasion for it. For he holds it a sin to eat the bread, when really it is an act of love and righteousness. Then, too, he regards his act of murder--permitting David to die of hunger--not a sin, but a good work and service to God. 11. But who can fully portray this blind, perverted, abominable folly? It is the perpetration of an evil the devil himself cannot outdo. For it makes sin where there is no sin, and a matter of conscience without occasion. It robs of grace, salvation, virtue, and God with all his blessings, and that without reason, falsely and deceitfully. It emphatically denies and condemns God. Again, it makes murder and injustice a good work, a divine service. It puts the devil with his falsehoods in the place of God. It institutes the worst form of idolatry and ruins body and soul, destroying the former by hunger and the latter by a terrified conscience. It makes of God the devil, and of the devil God. It makes hell of heaven and heaven of hell; righteousness of sin, and sin of righteousness. This I call perversion--where strictest justice is the most strenuous wrong. To this depravity Ezekiel has reference (ch. 13, 18-19): "Thus saith the Lord Jehovah: Woe to the women that sew pillows upon all elbows, and make kerchiefs for the head of persons of every stature to hunt souls! Will ye hunt the souls of my people, and save souls alive for yourselves? And ye have profaned me among my people for handfuls of barley and for pieces of bread, to slay the souls that should not die, and to save the souls alive that should not live, by your lying to my people that hearken unto lies." What is meant but that the blind teachers of the Law terrify the conscience, and put sin and death in the place of grace and life, and grace and life where is only sin and death; and all for a handful of barley and a bit of bread? In other words, such teachers devote themselves to laws concerning strictly external matters, things that perish with the using, such as a drink of water and a morsel of bread, wholly neglecting love and harassing the conscience with fear of sin unto eternal death; as Ezekiel goes on to say (verses 22-23): "Because with lies ye have grieved the heart of the righteous, whom I have not made sad, and strengthened the hands of the wicked, that he should not return from his wicked way, and be saved alive; therefore ye shall no more see false visions, nor divine divinations: and I will deliver my people out of your hand; and ye shall know that I am Jehovah." 12. Mark you, it is making the hearts of the righteous sad to load them with sins when their works are good; it is strengthening the hands of the wicked to make their works good when they are naught but sin. Relative to this subject, we read (Ps 14, 5): "There were they in great fear; for God is in the generation of the righteous." That is, the sting of conscience fills with fear where there is neither reason for fear nor for a disturbed conscience. That is feared as sin which is really noble service to God. The thought of the last passage is: When they should call upon God and serve him, they fear such conduct is sin and not divine service; again, when they have need to fear a service not divine, they are secure and unafraid. Isaiah's words (ch. 29, 13) are to the same effect: "Their fear of me is a commandment of men which hath been taught them." Always the perverted people spoken of corrupt everything. They confidently call on God where is only the devil; they refrain in fear from calling on God where God is. 13. Such, mark you, is the wretched condition of them who are blindly occupied with laws and works and fail to comprehend the design of law and its mistress Love. Note, also, in the case of our miserable ecclesiasts and their followers, how rigidly they adhere to their own inventions! Though all the world meet ruin, their devices must be sustained; they must be perpetuated regardless of bodily illness and death, or of suffering and ruin for the soul. They even regard such destruction and ruin as divine service, and know no fear nor remorse of conscience. Indeed, so strongly entrenched are they in their wickedness, they will never return from it. Moreover, should one of their wretched number be permitted to alleviate the distress of his body and soul--to eat meat, to marry--he is afraid, he feels remorse of conscience; he is uncertain about sin and law, about death and hell; he calls not on God, nor serves him; all this, even though the body should die ten deaths and the soul go to the devil a hundred times. 14. Observe, then, the state of the world; how little flesh and blood can accomplish even in their best efforts; how dangerous to undertake to rule by law alone--indeed, how impossible it is, without great danger, to govern and instruct souls with mere laws, ignoring love and the Spirit, in whose hands is the full power of all law. It is written (Deut 33, 2), "At his right hand was a fiery law for them." This is the law of love in the Spirit. It shall regulate all laws at the left hand; that is, the external laws of the world. It is said (Ex 28, 30) that the priest must bear upon his breast, in the breastplate, "the Urim and the Thummim"; that is, Light and Perfection, indicative of the priest's office to illuminate the Law--to give its true sense--and faultlessly to keep and to teach it. 15. In the conception, the establishment and the observance of all laws, the object should be, not the furtherance of the laws in themselves, not the advancement of works, but the exercise of love. That is the true purpose of law, according to Paul here, "He that loveth his neighbor hath fulfilled the law." Therefore, when the law contributes to the injury rather than the benefit of our neighbor, it should be ignored. The same law may at one time benefit our neighbor and at another time injure him. Consequently, it should be regulated according to its advantage to him. Law should be made to serve in the same way that food and raiment and other necessaries of life serve. We consider not the food and raiment themselves, but their benefit to our needy neighbor. And we cease to dispense them as soon as we perceive they no longer add to his comfort. 16. Suppose you were to come across an individual foolish enough to act with no other thought than that food and clothing are truly good things, and so proceed to stuff a needy one with unlimited food and drink unto choking, and to clothe him unto suffocation, and then not to desist. Suppose to the command, "Stop, you have suffocated, have already over-fed and over-clothed him, and all is lost effort now," the foolish one should reply: "You heretic, would you forbid good works? Food, drink and raiment are good things, therefore we must not cease to dispense them; we cannot do too much." And suppose he continued to force food and clothing on the man. Tell me, what would you think of such a one? He is a fool more than foolish; he is more mad than madness itself. But such is about the character of our ecclesiasts today, and of those who are so blind in the exercise of law as to act as if works were the only requisite, and to suffocate body and soul, being ignorant that the one purpose of law is to call forth the exercise of love. They make works superior to love, and a maid to her matron. Such perversion prevails to an extent distressing to think of, not to mention hearing and seeing it, or more, practicing and permitting it ourselves. 17. The commandment of love is not a long one; it is short. It is one injunction, not many. It is even not a commandment, and at the same time is all commandments. Brief, and a unit in itself, its meaning is easily comprehended. But in its exercise, it is far-reaching, for it includes and regulates all commandments. So far as works are enjoined, it is no commandment at all; it names no peculiar work. Yet it represents all commandments, because properly the fulfilment of all commandments is the fulfilment of this. The commandment of love suspends every commandment, yet it perpetuates all. Its whole purpose is that we may recognize no commandment, no work, except as love dictates. 18. As life on earth apart from works is an impossibility, necessarily there must be various commandments involving works. Yet Love is supreme over these requirements, dictating the omission or the performance of works according to its own best interests, and permitting no works opposed to itself. To illustrate: A driver, holding the reins, guides team and wagon at will. If he were content merely to hold the reins, regardless of whether or no the team followed the road, the entire equipage--team, wagon, reins and driver--would soon be wrecked; the driver would be lying drowned in a ditch or a pool, or have his neck broken going over stumps and rocks. But if he dexterously regulates the movement of the outfit according to the road, observing where it is safe and where unsafe, he will proceed securely because wisely. Were he, in his egotism, to drive straight ahead, endeavoring to make the road conform to the movement of the wagon, at his pleasure, he would soon see how beautifully his plan would work. 19. So it is when men are governed by laws and works, the laws not being regulated according to the people. The case is that of the driver who would regulate the road by the movements of the wagon. True, the road is often well suited to the straight course of the wagon. But just as truly the road is, in certain places, crooked and uneven, and then the wagon must conform to the course and condition of the road. Men must adapt themselves to laws and regulations wherever possible and where the laws are beneficial. But where laws prove detrimental to men's interests, the former must yield. The ruler must wisely make allowance for love, suspending works and laws. Hence, philosophers say prudence--or circumspection or discretion as the ecclesiasts put it--is the guide and regulator of all virtues. 20. We read in a book of the ancient fathers that on a certain occasion of their assembling, the question was raised, which is really the noblest work? Various replies were given. One said prayer, another fasting; but St. Anthony was of the opinion that of all works and virtues, discretion is the best and surest way to heaven. These, however, were but childish, unspiritual ideas relating to their own chosen works. A Christian views the matter in quite a different light, and more judiciously. He concludes that neither discretion nor rashness avails before God. Only faith and love serve with him. But love is true discretion; love is the driver and the true discretion in righteous works. It always looks to the good of the neighbor, to the amelioration of his condition; just as the discretion of the world looks to the general welfare of the governed in the adjustment of political laws. Let this suffice on this point. 21. But the question arises: How can love fulfil the Law when love is but one of the fruits of faith and we have frequently said that only faith in Christ removes our sins, justifies us and satisfies all the demands of the Law? How can we make the two claims harmonize? Christ says, too (Mt 7, 12): "All things, therefore, whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do ye also unto them: for this is the law and the prophets." Thus he shows that love for one's neighbor fulfils both the Law and the prophets. Again, he says (Mt 22, 37-40): "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God ... thy neighbor as thyself. On these two the whole law hangeth, and the prophets." Where, then, does Paul stand, who says (Rom 3, 31): "Do we then make the law of none effect through faith? God forbid: nay, we establish the law." Again (Rom 3, 28): "We reckon therefore that a man is justified by faith apart from the works of the law." And again (Rom 1, 17), "The righteous shall live by faith." 22. I reply: As we have frequently said, we must properly distinguish between faith and love. Faith deals with the heart, and love with the works. Faith removes our sins, renders us acceptable, justifies us. And being accepted and justified as to our person, love is given us in the Holy Spirit and we delight in doing good. Now, it is the nature of the Law to attack our person and demand good works; and it will not cease to demand until it gains its point. We cannot do good works without the Spirit and love. The Law constrains us to know ourselves with our imperfections, and to recognize the necessity of our becoming altogether different individuals that we may satisfy the Law. The Law does not exact so much of the heart as of works; in fact, it demands nothing but works and ignores the heart. It leaves the individual to discover, from the works required, that he must become an altogether different person. But faith, when it comes, creates a nature capable of accomplishing the works the Law demands. Thus is the Law fulfilled. So Paul's sayings on the subject are beautiful and appropriate. The Law demands of us works; it must be fulfilled by works. Hence it cannot in every sense be said that faith fulfils the Law. However, it prepares the way and enables us to fulfil it, for the Law demands, not us, but our works. The Law constrains us--teaches us that we must be changed before we can accomplish its works; it makes us conscious of our inability as we are. On the other hand, love and works do not change us, do not justify us. We must be changed in person and justified before we can love and do good works. Our love and our works are evidence of justification and of a change, since they are impossible until the individual is free from sin and made righteous. 23. This explanation is given to enable us to perceive the true nature of the Law, of faith and of love; to ascribe to each its own mission; and rightly to understand the Scripture declarations in their harmonious relations that while faith justifies, it does not fulfil the Law, and that while love does not justify, it does fulfil the Law. The Law requires love and works, but does not mention the heart. The heart is sensible of the Law, but love is not. Just as the Law, in requiring works before faith exists, is a sign to the individual leading him to recognize his utter lack of faith and righteousness, and to conclude he is conquered, so love in its fulfilment of the Law after faith intervenes is a sign and a proof to the individual of his faith and righteousness. Law and love, then, witness to him concerning his unrighteousness or his righteousness. After faith comes, love is evidence of righteousness. Before faith, man is sensible of the Law's oppression because he knows he does not possess what the Law requires. And the Law does not require a changed heart, but works. Love and works do not effect the fulfilment of the Law; they are themselves its fulfilment. 24. Now, though faith does not fulfil the Law, it contains that which effects its fulfilment; it secures the Spirit and love whereby the end is accomplished. On the other hand, if love does not justify us, it makes manifest the faith whereby we are justified. Briefly, as Paul says here, "Love is the fulfilment of the law." His thought is: Fulfilment of the Law is one thing, and effecting or furnishing its fulfilment another. Love fulfils the Law in the sense that love itself is its fulfilment; but faith fulfils it in the sense that it offers that by which it is fulfilled. For faith loves and works, as said in Galatians 5, 6, "Faith worketh through love." The water fills the pitcher; so does the cupbearer. The water fills of itself; the cupbearer fills with the water--"effective et formaliter implere," as the sophists would say. 25. Faith is ever the actor, and love the act. The law requires the act and thus forces the actor to be changed. The Law is then fulfilled by the act, which, however, the actor must perform. Thus Paul rejects the fancies of the sophists, who in the matter of love would make a distinction between the external work and the inner affection, saying: "Love is an inner affection that loves our neighbor when in our heart we wish him well." Its expression in works, however, they call the fruit of love. But we will not discuss this idea. Note, Paul terms love not only an affection, but an affectionate good act. Faith and the heart are the actor and fulfiller of the Law. Paul says, "He that loveth his neighbor hath fulfilled the law." And love is the act, the fulfilling; for he says, "Love is the fulfilment of the law." 26. Another question arises: How can love for our neighbor be the fulfilment of the Law when we are required to love God supremely, even above our neighbor? I reply: Christ answers the question when he tells us (Mt 22, 39) the second commandment is like unto the first. He makes love to God and love to our neighbor the same love. The reason for this is, first: God, having no need for our works and benefactions for himself, bids us to do for our neighbor what we would do for God. He asks for himself only our faith and our recognition of him as God. The object of proclaiming his honor and rendering him praise and thanks here on earth is that our neighbor may be converted and brought into fellowship with God. Such service is called the love of God, and is performed out of love to God; but it is exercised for the benefit of our neighbor only. 27. The second reason why God makes love to our neighbor an obligation equal to love to himself is: God has made worldly wisdom foolish, desiring henceforth to be loved amid crosses and afflictions. Paul says (1 Cor 1, 21), "Seeing that in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom knew not God, it was God's good pleasure through the foolishness of the preaching to save them that believe." Therefore, upon the cross he submitted himself unto death and misery, and imposed the same submission upon all his disciples. They who refused to love him before when he bestowed upon them food and drink, blessing and honor, must now love him in hunger and sorrow, in adversity and disgrace. All works of love, then, must be directed to our wretched, needy neighbors. In these lowly ones we are to find and love God, in them we are to serve and honor him, and only so can we do it. The commandment to love God is wholly merged in that to love our neighbors. 28. These facts restrain those elusive, soaring spirits that seek after God only in great and glorious undertakings. It stops the mouths of those who strive after greatness like his, who would force themselves into heaven, presuming to serve and love him with their brilliant works. But they miss him by passing over him in their earthly neighbor, in whom God would be loved and honored. Therefore, they will hear, on the last day, the sentence (Mt 25, 42), "I was hungry, and ye did not give me to eat," etc. For Christ laid aside his divinity and took upon himself the form of a servant for the very purpose of bringing down and centering upon our neighbor the love we extend to himself. Yet we leave the Lord to lie here in his humiliation while we gaze open-mouthed into heaven and make great pretensions to love and service to God. ALL COMMANDMENTS SUMMED UP IN LOVE. "For this, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not covet; and if there be any other commandment, it is briefly summed up in this word, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." 29. Love being the chief element of all law, it comprehends, as has been made sufficiently clear, all commandments. Its one concern is to be useful to man and not harmful; therefore, it readily discovers the way. Recognizing the fact that man, from his ardent self-love, seeks to promote his own interests and avoid injuring them, love endeavors to adopt the same course toward others. We will consider the commandment just cited, noticing how ingeniously and wisely it is arranged. It brings out four thoughts. First, it states who is under obligation to love: thou--the nearest, noblest, best individual we can command. No one can fulfil the Law of God for another; each must do it for himself. As Paul says (Gal 6, 5), "Each man shall bear his own burden." And (2 Cor 5, 10): "For we must all be made manifest before the judgment-seat of Christ; that each one may receive the things done in the body, according to what he hath done, whether it be good or bad." So it is said, "Thou, thou thyself, must love;" not, "Let someone else love for you." Though one can and should pray that God may be gracious to another and help him, yet no one will be saved unless he himself fulfils God's command. It is not enough merely to pray that another may escape punishment, as the venders of indulgences teach; much rather, we should pray that he become righteous and observe God's precepts. 30. Second, the commandment names the most noble virtue--love. It does not say, "Thou shalt feed thy neighbor, give him drink, clothe him," all of which things are inestimably good works; it says, "Thou shalt love him." Love is the chief virtue, the fountain of all virtues. Love gives food and drink; it clothes, comforts, persuades, relieves and rescues. What shall we say of it, for behold he who loves gives himself, body and soul, property and honor, all his powers inner and external, for his needy neighbor's benefit, whether it be friend or enemy; he withholds nothing wherewith he may serve another. There is no virtue like love; there can be no special work assigned it as in the case of limited virtues, such as chastity, mercy, patience, meekness, and the like. Love does all things. It will suffer in life and in death, in every condition, and that even for its enemies. Well may Paul here say that all other commandments are briefly comprehended in the injunction, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." 31. Third, the commandment names, as the sphere of our love, the noblest field, the dearest friend--our neighbor. It does not say, "Thou shalt love the rich, the mighty, the learned, the saint." No, the unrestrained love designated in this most perfect commandment does not apportion itself among the few. With it is no respect of persons. It is the nature of false, carnal, worldly love to respect the individual, and to love only so long as it hopes to derive profit. When such hope ceases, that love also ceases. The commandment of our text, however, requires of us free, spontaneous love to all men, whoever they may be, and whether friend or foe, a love that seeks not profit, and administers only what is beneficial. Such love is most active and powerful in serving the poor, the needy, the sick, the wicked, the simple-minded and the hostile; among these it is always and under all circumstances necessary to suffer and endure, to serve and do good. 32. Note here, this commandment makes us all equal before God, without regard to distinctions incident to our stations in life, to our persons, offices and occupations. Since the commandment is to all--to every human being--a sovereign, if he be a human being, must confess the poorest beggar, the most wretched leper, his neighbor and his equal in the sight of God. He is under obligation, according to this commandment, not to extend a measure of help, but to serve that neighbor with all he has and all he controls. If he loves him as God here commands him to do, he must give the beggar preference over his crown and all his realm; and if the beggar's necessity requires, must give his life. He is under obligation to love his neighbor, and must admit that such a one is his neighbor. 33. Is not this a superior, a noble, commandment, which completely levels the most unequal individuals? Is it not wonderfully comforting to the beggar to have servants and lovers of such honor? wonderful that his poverty commands the services of a king in his opulence? that to his sores and wounds are subject the crown of wealth and the sweet savor of royal splendor? But how strange it would seem to us to behold kings and queens, princes and princesses, serving beggars and lepers, as we read St. Elizabeth did! Even this, however, would be a slight thing in comparison with what Christ has done. No one can ever equal him in the obedience wherewith he has exalted this commandment. He is a king whose honor transcends that of all other kings; indeed, he is the Son of God. And yet he puts himself on a level with the worst sinners, and serves them even to dying for them. Were ten kings of earth to serve to the utmost one beggar, it would be a remarkable thing; but of what significance would it be in comparison with the service Christ has rendered? The kings would be put to utter shame and would have to acknowledge their service unworthy of notice. 34. Learn, then, the condition of the world--how far it is, not only from Christ's immeasurable example, but from the commandment in this verse. Where are to be found any who comprehend the meaning of the little phrase "thy neighbor," notwithstanding there is, beside this commandment, the natural law of service written in the hearts of all men? Not an individual is there who does not realize, and who is not forced to confess, the justice and truth of the natural law outlined in the command (Mt 7, 12), "All things therefore whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do ye also unto them." The light of this law shines in the inborn reason of all men. Did they but regard it, what need have they of books, teachers or laws? They carry with them in the depths of their hearts a living book, fitted to teach them fully what to do and what to omit, what to accept and what to reject, and what decision to make. Now, the command to love our neighbors as ourselves is equivalent to that other, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you," etc. Every individual desires to be loved and not hated; and he also feels and sees his obligation to exercise the same disposition toward others. The carrying out of this obligation is loving another as himself. But evil lust and sinful love obscure the light of natural law, and blind man, until he fails to perceive the guide-book in his heart and to follow the clear command of reason. Hence he must be restrained and repelled by external laws and material books, with the sword and by force. He must be reminded of his natural light and have his own heart revealed to him. Yet admonition does not avail; he does not see the light. Evil lust and sinful love blind him. With the sword and with political laws he must still be outwardly restrained from perpetrating actual crimes. 35. The fourth thing the commandment presents is the standard by which we are to measure our love--an excellent model. Those are particularly worthy instructions and commandments which present examples. This commandment holds up a truly living example--"thyself." It is a better model than any example the saints have set. The saints are dead and their deeds are past, but this example ever lives. Everyone must admit a consciousness of his own love for himself; of his ardent concern for his temporal life; of his careful nourishment of his body with food, raiment and all good things; of his fleeing from death and avoiding evil. This is self-love; something we are conscious of in ourselves. What, then, is the teaching of the commandment? To do to another as you do to yourself; to value his body and his life equally with your own body and life. Now, how could God have pointed you to an example dearer, more pleasing and more to the purpose than this example--the deep instinct of your nature? Indeed, your depth of character is measured by the writing of this command in your heart. 36. How will you fare with God if you do not love your neighbor? Feeling this commandment written within your heart, your conscience will condemn you. Your whole conduct will be an example witnessing against you, testifying to your failure to do unto others as the natural instinct of your being, more forcibly than all the examples of the saints, has taught you to do. But how will it go with the ecclesiasts in particular--the churchmen with their singing and praying, their cowls and bald pates, and all their jugglery? I make no comment on the fact that they have never observed the commandment. I ask, however, when has their monastic fanaticism permitted them time and opportunity to perceive for once this law in their hearts, to become sensible of the example set them in their own human instinct, or even to read the precept in books or hear it preached? Poor, miserable people! Do you presume to think that God will make void this, love's commandment, so deeply and clearly impressed upon the heart, so beautifully and unmistakably illustrated in your own natures, and in the many written and spoken words as well--think you God will do this on account of your cowls and bald pates, and regard what you have been devising and performing? 37. Alas, how shamelessly the world has ignored this beautiful and impressive commandment wherein are so skilfully presented the individual, the task, the model and the sphere of labor! And, on the other hand, how shamefully it occupies itself with the very reverse of what is taught in this commandment! Its whole practice and tendency seem to be to place our responsibility upon others; monks and priests must be righteous for us and pray in our stead, that we may personally be excused. For the noblest virtue, love, we substitute self-devised works; in the place of our neighbors we put wood and stone, raiment and food, even dead souls--the saints of heaven. These we serve; with them we are occupied; they are the sphere wherein we exercise ourselves. Instead of the noblest example--"as thyself"--we look to the legends and the works of saints. We presume to imitate such outward examples, omitting the duty which our own nature and life present and which the command of God outlines, notwithstanding such duty offers more than we could ever fulfil. Even if we could accomplish all it offers, we would still not equal Christ. LOVE WORKS ONLY GOOD TO ITS NEIGHBOR. "Love worketh no ill to his neighbor: love, therefore, is the fulfilment of the law." 38. The Ten Commandments forbid doing evil to our neighbor--"Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not commit adultery," etc. The apostle, employing similar phraseology, says that love observes all these commands, injuring none. Not only that; it effects good for all. It is practically doing evil to permit our neighbor to remain in peril when we can relieve him, even though we may not have been instrumental in placing him where he is. If he is hungry and we do not feed him when it is in our power to do so, we practically permit him to die of hunger. We should take this view concerning any perilous condition, any adverse circumstance, with our neighbors. How love is the fulfilment of the Law, we have now heard. _Fifth Sunday After Epiphany_ Text: Colossians 3, 12-17. 12 Put on therefore, as God's elect, holy and beloved, a heart of compassion, kindness, lowliness, meekness, longsuffering; 13 forbearing one another, and forgiving each other, if any man have a complaint against any; even as the Lord forgave you, so also do ye: 14 and above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfectness. 15 And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to the which also ye were called in one body; and be ye thankful. 16 Let the Word of Christ dwell in you richly; in all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts unto God. 17 And whatsoever ye do, in word or in deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. THE GLORIOUS ADORNMENT OF CHRISTIANS. 1. This text is also a letter of admonition, teaching what manner of fruit properly results from faith. Paul deals kindly with the Colossians. He does not command, urge nor threaten, as teachers of the Law must do in the case of those under the Law. He persuades them with loving words in view of the blessing and grace of God received, and in the light of Christ's own example. Christians should act with readiness and cheerfulness, being moved neither by fear of punishment nor by desire for reward, as frequently before stated. This admonition has been so oft repeated in the preceding epistle lesson that we know, I trust, what constitutes a Christian. Therefore we will but briefly touch on the subject. "Put on, therefore." 2. In the epistle for New Year's day we have sufficiently explained the meaning of "putting on"; how by faith we put on Christ, and he us; how in love we put on our neighbor, and our neighbor us. The Christian apparel is of two kinds--faith and love. Christ wore two manner of garments--one whole and typical of faith, the other divided and typical of love. Paul here has reference to the latter garment, love. He would teach us Christians the manner of ornaments and apparel we are to wear in the world; not silk or precious gold. To women these are forbidden of Peter (1 Pet 3, 3), and of Paul (1 Tim 2, 9). Love for our neighbor is a garment well befitting us--that love which leads us to concern ourselves about the neighbor and his misfortunes. Such love is called the ornament of a Christian character--an ornament in the eyes of men. 3. Observe the tender and sacred style of the apostle's admonition, a style he is wont to use toward us. He does not drive us with laws, but persuades by reminding us of the ineffable grace of God; for he terms us the "elect of God," and "holy" and "beloved." He would call forth the fruits of faith, desiring them to be yielded in a willing, cheerful and happy spirit. The individual who sincerely believes and trusts that before God he is beloved, holy and elect, will consider how to sustain his honors and titles, how to conduct himself worthily of them; more, he will love God with a fervor enabling him to do or omit, or to suffer, all things cheerfully, and will never know how to do enough. But he who doubts such attitude of God toward himself will not recognize the force of these words. He will not feel the power of the statement that we are holy, beloved, elect, in the sight of God. 4. Let us disregard, therefore, the saints who elect and love themselves; who adorn themselves with the works of the Law; who observe fasts and discipline; who regard raiment and position, for they are unwilling to be sinners before God. Our ornaments are unlike these, and not associated with such mockeries. They are honesty, sincerity, good works, service to our neighbor. We are unfettered by laws regarding food, raiment, times, etc. We are holy in the sight of God, before whom none can be holy until he sees himself a sinner and rejects his own righteousness. But the class mentioned are holy in their own estimation; therefore, they ever remain wicked--sinners in the sight of God. We are beloved of God because we despise ourselves, we judge and condemn ourselves and reject our self-love. The others, because they love and esteem themselves, are despicable and unacceptable in the sight of God. Again, we are chosen of God for the reason that we despise ourselves as filth. Such God chooses, and has chosen from eternity. Because the would-be saints elect themselves, God will reject them, as indeed he has from eternity. Now, this is what Paul means by these words, "A heart of compassion." 5. They stand for a part of the ornament, the beautiful, charming Christian jewel, that becomes us better in the sight of God than pearls, precious stones, silk and gold become us in the eyes of the world. "A heart of compassion" is evidence of the true Christian. Paul would say: "Not simply in external deed, or in appearance, are ye to be merciful, but in the inmost heart." He refers to that sincere and whole-souled mercy characteristic of the father and mother who witness the distress of a child for whom they would readily expose their lives or sacrifice all they possess. The Christian's mind and heart should be constantly devoted to merciful deeds, with an ardor so intense as to make him unaware he is doing good and compassionate acts. 6. With this single phrase Paul condemns the works and arbitrary rules of hypocritical saints, whose severity will not permit them to associate with sinners. Their rigorous laws must be all-controlling. They do nothing but compel and drive. They exhibit no mercy, but perpetual reproach, censure, condemnation, blame and bluster. They can endure no imperfection. But among Christians many are sinners, many infirm. In fact, Christians associate only with these; not with saints. Christians reject none, but bear with all. Indeed, they are as sincerely interested for sinners as they would be for themselves were they the infirm. They pray for the sinners, teach, admonish, persuade, do all in their power to reclaim. Such is the true character of a Christian. So God, in Christ, has dealt with us and ever deals. So Christ dealt with the adulteress (Jn 8, 11) when he released her from her tormentors, and with his gracious words influenced her to repentance and suffered her to depart. We read of St. Antony having said that Paphrutius knew how souls are to be saved, because he rescued a certain individual from brethren who persecuted and oppressed him for his transgression. See "Lives of the Fathers." Were God to deal with us according to the rigor of his laws, we should all be lost. But he mercifully suspends the Law. Isaiah says (ch. 9, 4): "For the yoke of his burden, and the staff of his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, thou hast broken." God now only persuades. 7. Note how involved in the Law and in hypocrisy they still are who esteem themselves prominent saints and at the same time are intolerant of the infirmities of Christians. If they fail to find perfect holiness--a miracle of purity--in those who possess Christ and know the Gospel, then nothing is as it should be; the heavens are on the point of falling and the earth about to be destroyed. They can only judge, censure and deride, saying: "Oh, yes, he is truly evangelical; indeed, he is a visionary!" Thus they indicate their utter blindness. With the beam constantly in their own eyes, they show how little they know of Christ. Know, then, when you meet one so ready to censure and condemn, one requiring absolute perfection in Christians--know that such a one is merely an enforcer of the Law, a base hypocrite, a merciless jailer, with no true knowledge of Christ. As, with Christians, there is no law but all is love, so neither can there be judgment, condemnation and censure. And he who calls another a visionary is certainly a visionary ten-fold himself. In the thing for which he judges and condemns another, he condemns himself. Since he ignores mercy and all but the Law, he finds no mercy in the sight of God; in fact, he has never experienced, never tasted, God's mercy. To his taste, both God and neighbor are bitter as gall and wormwood. 8. But tender mercy is to be shown only to Christians and only among Christians. With the rejecters and persecutors of the Gospel we must deal differently. It is not right that my charity be liberal enough to tolerate unsound doctrine. In the case of false faith and doctrine there is neither love nor patience. Against these it is my duty earnestly to contend and not to yield a hair's breadth. Otherwise--when faith is not imperiled--I must be unfailingly kind and merciful to all notwithstanding the infirmities of their lives. I may not censure, oppress nor drive; I must persuade, entreat and tolerate. A defective life does not destroy Christianity; it exercises it. But defective doctrine--false belief--destroys all good. So, then, toleration and mercy are not permissible in the case of unsound doctrine; only anger, opposition and death are in order, yet always in accordance with the Word of God. 9. On the other hand, they who are mercifully tolerated must not imagine that because they escape censure and force, their beliefs and practices are right. They must not construe such mercy as encouragement to become indolent and negligent, and to continue in their error. Mercy is not extended them with any such design. The object is to give them opportunity to recover zeal and strength. But if they be disposed to remain as they are, very well; let them alone. They will not long continue thus; the devil will lead them farther astray, until finally they will completely apostatize, even becoming enemies to the Gospel. Such will be their end if they permit mercy to be lavished upon them in vain. We may not be indolent and asleep in the matter of our false doctrines, relying upon the fact that we are not despised nor constrained of men. There is particular need to be active and diligent, for the devil neither sleeps nor rests. We need beware that he does not lead us where we will never enjoy God's mercy. "Kindness, lowliness, meekness, longsuffering." 10. These words represent the other elements of Christian character. Kindness you will find defined in the second epistle lesson for the early Christmas service. It characterizes the conduct of the individual who is gentle and sympathetic to all; who repels none with forbidding countenance, harsh words or rude deportment. We Germans would call such a one affable and friendly disposed. Kindness is a virtue not confined to certain works; it modifies the whole life. The kindly person is obliging to everyone, not displeased with any, and is attractive to all men. In contrast are those peculiar characters who have pleasure in nothing but their own conceits; who insist on others accommodating themselves to them and their ways, while they yield to none. Such individuals are termed "uncivil." 11. But the liberality of kindness is not to be extended to false doctrine. Only relative to conduct and works is it to be exercised. As oft before stated, love with all its works and fruits has no place in the matter of unsound doctrine. I must love my neighbor and show him kindness whatever the imperfections of his life. But if he refuses to believe or to teach sound doctrine, I cannot, I dare not, love him or show him kindness. According to Paul (Gal 1, 8-9), I must hold him excommunicated and accursed, even though he be an angel from heaven. Thus remarkably do faith and love differ and are distinct. Love will be, must be, kind even to the bitterest enemy so long as he assails not faith and doctrine. But it will not, it cannot, tolerate the individual who does, be it father, mother or dearest friend. Deut 13, 6-8. Love, then, must be exercised, not in relation to the doctrine and faith of our neighbor, but relative to his life and works. Faith, on the contrary, has to do, not with his works and life, but with his doctrine and belief. 12. I think we must know by this time the meaning of "lowliness" of mind--esteeming one's self least and others greater. As Christ illustrates it, occupying the lowest seat at the wedding, and this cheerfully. We are to serve even when our service is not desired, and to minister unto our enemies. So Christ humbled himself before Judas the betrayer, and before all of us. He came, not to be served, but to serve. That humbleness of mind is a rare virtue is not to be wondered at, for every Christian grace is a rarity. Particularly are graces lacking with those who, professing to know most of Christ, find something to censure in all Christians. Christianity Paul calls a mystery of God; and it is likely to continue so. 13. "Meekness" is opposed to anger. The meek man is not easily excited to exhibit anger, to curse, smite, hate, or wish evil to any, even an enemy. To refrain thus is an art. Hypocrites--in fact, all the world--can be meek toward friends and those who treat them well. But true meekness and humility will remain only among the elect and beloved saints of God, as Paul here implies. Even among these are many deficient in all, or at least a large part, of the Christian graces. Hypocrites may thus find something to censure, something whereat to be offended, in the beloved, elect saints of God. And the true saints have occasion to exercise mercy, humility, meekness and forbearance. They whom Paul here terms elect and beloved saints of God, though slightly deficient in humility, meekness and forbearance, are not therefore unholy, not rejected and despised. 14. Paul makes a distinction between longsuffering and forbearance, as in Romans 2, 4: "Despisest thou the riches of his goodness and forbearance and longsuffering?" In "longsuffering" we have the thought here and there expressed by God in the Psalms and elsewhere by the Hebrew "arich apaim"--"slow to wrath." God patiently bears with evil. Indeed, he repeatedly delays vengeance, apparently more ready to forgive than to punish, even under extreme provocation and having just reason to chastise. Longsuffering extends farther than patience. Patience bears evil and injustice; but longsuffering delays punishment. It does not design to punish; it would not take hasty revenge. Unlike the revengeful, it wishes no one evil. Many we see, indeed, who suffer much and are patient but at the same time trust in a final avenging. The longsuffering Christian, however, is opposed to revenge, desiring the sinner to amend his ways. "Forbearing one another, and forgiving each other, if any man have a complaint against any; even as the Lord forgave you, so also do ye." 15. In this verse all law is abolished among Christians. One is not permitted to demand, through process of law, the recovery of his property. He must forgive and yield. Christ's example enjoins this principle; he has forgiven us. And what is the extent of his forgiveness? He pardons past sins, but that is not all; as John says (1 Jn 2, 1-2), "If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteousness and he is the propitiation for our sins." 16. Note, it is the true Christian saints whom Paul describes, but he looks upon them as infirm to the extent of offending and complaining against one another. This is a state of affairs by no means becoming Christians and saints. So I say Christ's kingdom is a mystery obscure beyond the power of our preaching and teaching sufficiently to explain. Unbelievers cannot be induced to work, but believers cannot be withheld from working. Some would not believe and some would not love. It is true of Christ's kingdom that his Christians are not perfectly holy. They have begun to be holy and are in a state of progression. There are still to be found among them anger, evil desire, unholy love, worldly care and other deplorable infirmities, remains of the old Adam. Paul speaks of these things as burdens which one must bear for a neighbor (Gal 6, 2), and in Romans 15, 1, he admonishes us to "bear the infirmities of the weak." Likewise Christ loved his apostles much and suffered much from them, and he still daily bears with his own. 17. Some, enumerating the fruits of the Spirit mentioned in Galatians 5, 22-23, say a Christian should be gentle, meek, longsuffering, chaste; and they look upon this passage as a law commanding such fruits. Hence they refuse to recognize as Christians any who fail to possess the fruits in perfection. Now, such individuals cannot believe there is a Christ, certain as the fact is. They judge malignantly, complaining that Christians do not exist. They take offense at Christ for his superior wisdom. For Christ has given us scriptural authority for knowing Christians by their fruits. He says (Mt 7, 16), "By their fruits ye shall know them." Here they are emphatic. 18. Can you locate the failure of such an individual? He fails in the fact that he understands absolutely nothing of Christ's kingdom. For he misinterprets the passages referring to Christians. He understands the statement that Christians should be kind and meek, to mean they must never become angry, must bear anything and show impatience toward none; if they do not so, they cannot be Christians, for they have not the fruits. Dear man, what but his own blindness can lead him to such a conclusion? He fancies Christianity to be a holy order of perfection, altogether without infirmity, a perfection as in heaven among the angels. But tell me, where do the Scriptures speak thus of Christians? But whoso recognizes Christianity as a progressive order yet in its beginning, will not be offended at the occasional manifestation of ungentleness, unkindness and impatience on the part of a Christian; for he remembers that Christians are commanded to bear one another's burdens and infirmities. He knows that the enumeration of the fruits of the Spirit is not a record of laws the observance of which is imperative or Christ will be denied. He is aware the passage is to be interpreted as meaning that Christians are to strive to be kind; that is the mark at which they aim. However, even though they have made a beginning and some progress in this virtue, they often are unkind and bear fruits directly the opposite of the fruits of the Spirit. True, the text quoted says we should be kind, but it does not say we are kind. We are tending toward it, we are in a state of progression; but during the progress much of the old and as yet untransformed nature is intermingled. 19. Know, then, that in a mysterious way Christ is in his saints, and beware of judging or condemning anyone when you have not positive assurance that he believes and teaches contrary to the Gospel. But whoso does oppose the Gospel, you may safely judge to be without Christ, and under the sway of the devil. Pray for such a one and admonish him, in the hope of his conversion. But in the case of one who endorses and honors the Gospel, observe Paul's comment (Rom 14, 4): "Who art thou that judgest the servant of another? to his own lord he standeth or falleth. Yea, he shall be made to stand; for the Lord hath power to make him stand." And again (1 Cor 10, 12): "Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." Christ would be at the same time hidden and revealed, found and not found. He permits the intermingling of some infirmities with the fruits of the Spirit, that he may conceal himself, and that malicious judges may be offended. "And above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfectness." 20. From longsuffering and meekness the apostle distinguishes love and other jewels of spiritual beauty whereof we have already heard, though all are comprehended in love. As faith is the chief element of Christian character, so love is chief of the fruits of the Spirit, the jewel of surpassing beauty. Therefore Paul says, "Above all these things put on love." Love transcends mercy, kindness, meekness and humility. Paul calls it "the bond of perfectness" because it unites human hearts; not a partial unity, based on similarity or close relationship, but a complete unity among all men and in all relations. It makes us of one mind, one heart, one desire. It permits no one to originate a peculiar order of doctrine or faith. All who love are of the same belief. Consequently there is the same purpose of heart with the poor and the rich, with rulers and subjects, the ill and the well, the high and the low, the honored and the disgraced. The loving heart permits all to share in its good; more, it participates in the adversities of all men, regarding them as its own. Where love is, perfect unity and communion obtain in every event, good or bad. It is a most perfect bond. 21. Where love is lacking, hearts are united and aims single in but few relations; in most things there is disagreement. For instance: Robbers have a common bond, but it is no more than a common purpose in committing robbery and murder. Worldly friends are of the same mind so far as concerns their own interests. Monks are united in relation to their order and their honor. Herod and Pilate agreed, but simply in regard to Christ. For the most part it is exceptional that one monk, priest or layman agrees with another. Their bond of union is weak; they are as chaff bound with straw. "And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which also ye were called." 22. There is much to threaten the sundering of love's bond. The devil never sleeps, but continually stirs up discord and unrest. Paul does not deny that the bond is assailed. But he exhorts us to resist, remembering that love must be exercised by opposition. He admonishes us to let the peace of Christ have dominion in our hearts. The thought of the verse is: Though the peace of the world and the flesh abides not, though you must witness the forces of discord and disruption, nevertheless let your hearts have peace in Christ. We spoke of the peace of God in the epistle selection for the Fourth Sunday in Advent--Philippians 4, 7. This is the peace whereunto the Gospel calls; not the peace of the world, the flesh or the devil, but the peace that passeth all understanding, of which Paul tells us. We are to hold the peace of God, not only when all is well, but when sin, death, the flesh, the world and all calamities rage. "And be ye thankful." 23. "Thankfulness" here may be taken in either of two senses: First, thankfulness toward God, Paul's thought being: Let the remembrance of all God has done for you move you to gratitude for his grace and mercy, a gratitude to which shall succeed love and peace. Secondly, we may understand thankfulness toward men--gratitude for all the benefits received from our fellows. The apostle elsewhere (2 Tim 3, 2) speaks of there being, in the last days, among other vices, that of "unthankfulness" of men toward each other. Let everyone make choice for himself of the two applications. It is my opinion, since Paul later takes up the subject of gratitude to God, and since he is here handling that of love to our neighbor--it is my opinion he has reference here to gratitude to our fellowmen. This, I think, is his meaning. Man is glad to have love shown him; he is quite willing to receive good from others and to be dealt with according to the Gospel. At the same time, he is not disposed to manifest love to his fellows: favors shown him are lost upon his ingratitude. Though love is not defeated by ungratefulness--for it bears all things (1 Cor 13, 7)--yet unthankfulness produces weariness and aversion; and it is a base, unjust and shameful thing for one who continually lends assistance not to be served in return. 24. Paul says on this topic (Gal 6, 6), "Let him that is taught in the Word communicate unto him that teacheth in all good things." And he declares (1 Tim 5, 17) that they who labor in the Word and doctrine are worthy of double honor. In the ninth chapter of First Corinthians he speaks at length on how teachers are entitled to support, saying the mouth of the threshing ox should not be muzzled; that would be gross ingratitude. Of such unthankfulness he here hints. It is true today, and ever has been, that preachers of the Word of God must in general seek their own bread, and receive ingratitude as their reward for the wonderful blessings they confer. Were it their part to celebrate masses and indulgences, gratitude would be forthcoming; great would be the gifts and service rendered them as expression of thankfulness. But just as ungratefully were the Levites treated under the old Law, in contrast with the favor shown the priests of idols and groves. "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; in all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts unto God." 25. This verse appropriately follows the injunction to be thankful. Paul would say: Be careful to honor teachers and preachers, being grateful that they handle the Word and may richly impart it to you. I do not imagine Paul refers to the giving of the Word of God from heaven, for it is not within man's power to so give it; God alone can commit it to us. So he has done and continues to do. On every occasion when he permits the Gospel to be preached, he showers the message upon us abundantly, withholding no essential knowledge. But, after it is given, we ought to be thankful and to faithfully read and hear it, sing and speak it, and meditate upon it day and night. And it should be our part to secure teachers enough to minister it to us liberally and continuously. This is what is meant by letting the Word of God dwell among us richly. 26. Satiated, indolent spirits soon grow tired and dismiss their pastors to go wherever they wish. The latter are forced to seek a living by other work, and thus God's Word is neglected and becomes rare and thinly sown in the land. Nehemiah (ch. 13, 10) complains that the Levites, because of lack of support, were forced to leave their worship and temple and flee to the fields or start false worship and fables to mislead the people. They then received enough to exist--they became wealthy. It has come about in the Christian Church that as often as the support of godly pastors and teachers has grown to be a burden, as Augustine laments has been the case, these have been either forced to neglect the Word to labor for their own support, or forced to invent that wretched, accursed worship now prevalent throughout the world and whereby the preachers have attained lordly position. With the revival of the Gospel the financial difficulty mentioned is recurring, and it will continue to recur. One hundred dollars cannot now be raised for the support of a good schoolmaster or preacher where formerly a thousand dollars--yes, incomputible sums--were contributed toward churches, institutions, masses, vigils and the like. Once more God punishes ingratitude by permitting his preachers to withdraw wholly from the ministry and to engage in their own support, or by sending upon the people even greater delusions than ever, which defraud them of wealth and destroy body and soul. For they refuse to let the Word of God dwell among them richly. Paul adds the modifying phrase, "In all wisdom." 27. Were we to have the Word of God so richly as to ring in every street corner, to be sung everywhere by all children--as they designed who into the pulpits and the lessons introduced canonical prayers and singing and reading--what would all this profit without an understanding mind--without wisdom? For the Word of God was given to make us wise. It was intended that we should understand it; that it should be preached and sung intelligibly. And they who minister it, who sing and speak it, ought to be wise, understanding everything pertaining to the salvation of the soul and the honor of God. That is what it means to have the Word of God dwell among us in all wisdom. Here Paul briefly overthrows the vociferous practices of the churches and monasteries where so much preaching and reading obtain while at the same time the Gospel is not understood. He seems to have foreseen the coming time when the Word of God should freely prevail, but with no resulting wisdom; the time when men should daily increase in ignorance and fanaticism until they should become mere dolts, so completely void of wisdom as to call vociferation and boasting divine worship, and to regard that preaching the salvation of souls. 28. What it is to teach and to admonish has been frequently explained. Here Paul makes the duty of instruction common to all Christians--"teaching and admonishing one another." That is, aside from the regular office of preaching, each is to teach himself and others, thus making everyday use of the Word of God, publicly and privately, generally and specially. 29. As I see it, the apostle's distinction of the three words--psalms, hymns and spiritual songs--is this: "psalms" properly indicates those productions of David and others constituting the Book of Psalms; "hymns" refers to the songs of the prophets occasionally mentioned in the Scriptures--songs of Moses, Deborah, Solomon, Isaiah, Daniel, Habakkuk, with the Magnificat, the Benediction, and the like, called "Canticles"; "spiritual songs" are those not written in the Scriptures but of daily origin with men. Paul calls these latter "spiritual" to a greater degree than psalms and hymns, though he recognizes those as themselves spiritual. He forbids worldly, sensual and unbecoming songs, desiring us to sing of spiritual things. It is then that our songs are calculated to benefit and instruct, as he says. 30. But what is the significance of Paul's phrase "with grace"? I offer the explanation that he refers to the grace of God and means that the singing of spiritual songs is to be voluntary, uncompelled, spontaneous, rendered with cheerfulness and prompted by love; not extorted by authority and law, as is the singing in our churches today. No one sings, preaches or prays from a recognition of mercy and grace received. The motive is a hope for gain, or a fear of punishment, injury and shame; or again, the holiest individuals bind themselves to obedience, or are driven to it, for the sake of winning heaven, and not at all to further the knowledge of the Word of God--the understanding of it richly and in all wisdom, as Paul desires it to be understood. I imagine Paul has in mind the charm of music and the beauty of poetry incident to song. He says in Ephesians 4, 29: "Let no corrupt speech proceed out of your mouth, but such as is good for edifying as the need may be, that it may give grace to them that hear." Likewise should songs be calculated to bring grace and favor to them who hear. Foul, unchaste and superfluous words have no place therein, nor have any inappropriate elements, elements void of significance and without virtue and life. Hymns are to be rich in meaning, to be pleasing and sweet, and thus productive of enjoyment for all hearers. The singing of such songs is very properly called in Hebrew singing "with grace," as Paul has it. Of this character of songs are the psalms and hymns of the Scriptures; they are good thoughts presented in pleasing words. Some songs, though expressed in charming words, are worldly and carnal; while others presenting good thoughts are at the same time expressed in words inappropriate, unattractive and devoid of grace. "Singing with grace in your hearts unto God." 31. Paul does not enjoin silence of the lips. He would have words of the mouth proceed from the heart sincerely and fervently; not hypocritically, as Isaiah mentions (ch. 29, 13), saying: "This people draw nigh unto me, and with their mouth and with their lips do honor me, but have removed their heart far from me." Paul would have the Word of God to dwell among Christians generally, and richly to be spoken, sung and meditated upon everywhere; and that understandingly and productive of spiritual fruit, the Word being universally prized. He would that men thus sing unto the Lord heartfelt praise and thanks. He says let the Word "dwell" among you. Not merely lodge as a guest for a night or two, but abide with you forever. He is constantly apprehensive of human doctrines. "And whatsoever ye do, in word or in deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." 32. The works of Christians are not circumscribed by name, time nor place. Whatever Christians do is good; whenever done it is timely; wherever wrought it is appropriately. So Paul names no work. He makes no distinction, but concludes all works good, whether it be eating or drinking, speaking or keeping silence, waking or sleeping, going or staying, being idle or otherwise. All acts are eminently worthy because done in the name of the Lord Jesus. Such is Paul's teaching here. And our works are wrought in the name of the Lord Jesus when we by faith hold fast the fact that Christ is in us and we in him in the sense that we no longer labor but he lives and works in us. Paul says (Gal 2, 20), "It is no longer I that live, but Christ liveth in me." But when we do a work as of ourselves, then it is wrought in our own name and there is nothing good about it. 33. The expression "in the name of God," or "Go in the name of Jesus," is frequently uttered falsely and in cheer hypocrisy. The saying is, "All misfortunes rise in the name of God." For teachers of false doctrines habitually offer their commodities in the name of God. They even come in the name of Christ, as he himself foretells. Mt 24, 24. To sincerely and earnestly speak and work in Jesus' name, necessarily the heart must accord with the utterances of the mouth. As the lips declare in the name of God, so must the heart confidently, with firm faith, hold that God directs and performs the work. Peter teaches the same (1 Pet 4, 11): "If any man ministereth [perform anything], ministering as of the strength which God supplieth." Then will the venture prosper. No Christian should undertake to do any deed in his own ability and directed by his own judgment. Rather let him be assured that God works with and through him. Paul says (1 Cor 9, 26): "I therefore so run, as not uncertainly; so fight I, as not beating the air." 34. Such an attitude will result in praise and thanks to God as the one to whom are due all honor and praise for every good thing. So Paul teaches and also Peter. Immediately after declaring that we are to work according to the ability which God gives, Peter adds "that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ." But he who undertakes anything in his own ability, however he may glorify God with his lips, lies and deceives, like the hypocrite in the Gospel. Thankfulness, therefore, is the only duty we can perform unto God; and this is not to be rendered of ourselves, but through our Mediator, Jesus. Without him none can come to the Father, none can be accepted. Of this fact we have often spoken. _Third Sunday Before Lent_ Text: First Corinthians 9, 24-27; 10, 1-5. 24 Know ye not that they that run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? Even so run; that ye may attain. 25 And every man that striveth in the games exerciseth self-control in all things. Now they do it to receive a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible. 26 I therefore so run, as not uncertainly; so fight I, as not beating the air: 27 but I buffet my body, and bring it into bondage: lest by any means, after that I have preached to others, I myself should be rejected. 1 For I would not, brethren, have you ignorant, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea; 2 and were all baptized unto Moses in the cloud and in the sea; 3 and did all eat the same spiritual food; 4 and did all drink the same spiritual drink: for they drank of a spiritual rock that followed them: and the rock was Christ. 5 Howbeit with most of them God was not well pleased: for they were overthrown in the wilderness. THE CHRISTIAN RACE FOR THE PRIZE. 1. This lesson is a part of the long four-chapter instruction Paul gives the Corinthians. Therein he teaches them how to deal with those weak in the faith, and warns rash, presumptuous Christians to take heed lest they fall, however they may stand at the present. He presents a forcible simile in the running of the race, or the strife for the prize. Many run without obtaining the object of their pursuit. But we should not vainly run. To faithfully follow Christ does not mean simply to run. That will not suffice. We must run to the purpose. To believe, to be running in Christ's course, is not sufficient; we must lay hold on eternal life. Christ says (Mt 24, 13), "But he that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved." And Paul (1 Cor 10, 12), "Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." 2. Now, running is hindered in two ways; for one, by indolence. When faith is not strenuously exercised, when we are indolent in good works, our progress is hindered, so that the prize is not attained. But to such hindrance I do not think Paul here refers. He is not alluding to those who indolently run, but to them who run in vain because missing their object; individuals, for instance, who pursue their aim at full speed, but, deluded by a phantom, miss their aim and rush to ruin or run up against fearful obstacles. Hence Paul enjoins men to run successfully while in the race, that they may seize the prize and not lose it by default. In consequence the race is hindered when a false goal is set up or the true one removed. The apostle says (Col 2, 18), "Let no man rob you of your prize." It is true, however, that an indolent, negligent life will eventually bring about loss of the prize. While men sleep, the enemy very soon sows tares among the wheat. 3. The goal is removed when the Word of God is falsified and creations of the human mind are preached under the name of God's Word. And these things readily come about when we are not careful to keep the unity of the Spirit, when each follows his own ideas and yields to no other, because he prefers his own conceit. Such must be the course of events where love is lacking. The strong and the learned desire to be looked upon as peculiarly commendable, while the weak in the faith are despised. Thus the devil has abundant opportunity to sow tares. Paul calls love the unity of the Spirit, and admonishes (Eph 4, 3) that we endeavor to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. In Second Thessalonians 2, 10 he proclaims the coming of Antichrist "because they received not the love of the truth"; that is, true love. "And every man that striveth in the games [that striveth for the mastery]." 4. Were he who competes in a race to attempt other things or to make a success of other matters at the same time, he would not gain much; rather he would soon be defeated, lose the race and everything. If he would truly strive, he must attend to no other thing. All else must be neglected and attention centered upon the contest alone. Even then the winner must have fortune's favor; for they who neglect all to run do not all gain the prize. Likewise in the Christian contest it is necessary, and in an even higher degree, to renounce everything and to devote oneself only to the contest. He who would in addition seek his own glory and profit, who would find in the Word and Spirit of God occasion for his own praise and advantage after the manner of the dissenters and schismatics--what can such a one expect to win? He is wholly entangled in temporal glory and gain; bound hand and foot, a complete captive. The race he runs is the mere dream race of one lying upon his couch an indolent captive. "I therefore so run, as not uncertainly; so fight I, as not beating the air." 5. Paul here points to himself as exemplar and hints at the cause of failure, viz., lapse from love and the use of the divine word in a wilful, ambitious and covetous spirit, whereas the faith which worketh by love is lacking. Under such conditions, false and indolent Christians run indeed a merry race; yet God's Word and ways in which they are so alert and speedy are merely a show, because they make them subserve their own interests and glory. They fail, however, to see that they race uncertainly and beat the air. They never make a serious attempt, nor do they ever hit the mark. While it is theirs to mortify ambition, to restrain their self-will and to enlist in the service of their neighbors, they do none of these things. On the contrary, they even do many things to strengthen their ambition and self-will, and then they swear by a thousand oaths that they are seeking not their own honor but the honor of God, their neighbor's welfare and not their own. Peter says (2 Pet 1, 9-10) this class are blind and cannot see afar and have forgotten they were purged from their old sins, because they fail to make their calling sure by good works. Therefore, it comes about that, as Paul says, they run uncertainly, beating the air. Their hearts are unstable and wavering before God, and they are changeable and fickle in all their ways, James 1, 8. Since they are aimless and inconstant at heart, this will appear likewise as inconstancy in regard to works and doctrines. They undertake now this and now that; they cannot be quiet nor refrain from factional strife. Thus they miss their aim or else remove the goal, and cannot but deviate from the true and common path. "But I buffet [keep under] my body, and bring it into bondage [subjection]." 6. The apostle's thought is the same as in his statement above, "Every man that striveth in the games exerciseth self-control in all things." By "keeping under the body" Paul means, not only subduing the carnal lusts, but every temporal object as well, in so far as it appeals to bodily desire--love of honor, fame, wealth and the like. He who gives license to these things instead of subduing them will preach to his own condemnation, however correct his preaching be. Such do not permit the truth to be presented; this is true particularly of temporal honor. These words of the apostle, then, are a fine thrust at ambitious and self-centered preachers and Christians. Not only do they run in vain and fight to no purpose; they become actual castaways with only the semblance--the color--of Christianity. EXAMPLES FROM SCRIPTURE. "For I would not, brethren, have you ignorant, that our fathers were all under the cloud." 7. Paul cites a terrible example from Scripture to prove that not all obtain the prize who run. There were about six hundred thousand of them, all of whom walked in the way of God and enjoyed his word and his confidence so completely as to be protected under the cloud and miraculously to pass through the sea; yet among the vast number who ran at that time only two, Joshua and Caleb, obtained the prize. They alone of all that multitude reached the promised land. Later on in the chapter (verses 11-12) Paul explains this fact, saying: "Now these things happened unto them by way of example; and they were written for our admonition ... wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." The design of these dealings of God with Israel is to terrify the pride, false wisdom and self-will; to deter men from despising their fellows and from seeking to make the Word of God minister to their own honor or profit in preference to the honor and profit of others. The intent is to have each individual put himself on an equality with others, each to bear with his fellow, the weak enduring the strong, and so on, as enjoined in the four chapters. 8. How many great and noble men may have been among the six hundred thousand, men to whom we would have been unworthy to hand a cup of water! They included the twelve princes of the twelve tribes, one of whom, Nahshon, Matthew (ch. 1, 4) numbers in the holy lineage of Christ. There were also the seventy elders who shared in the spirit of Moses, Eldad and Medad in particular (Num 11, 27), and all the other great men aside from the faction of Korah. All these, mark you, strove in the race. They did and suffered much. They witnessed many miracles of God. They aided in erecting a grand tabernacle and in instituting divine worship. They were full of good works. Yet they failed, and died in the wilderness. Who is so daring and haughty he will not be restrained and humbled by so remarkable an example of divine judgment? Well may it be said, "Let him that ... standeth take heed lest he fall." 9. Well, the example of Israel is one readily understood. God grant we may heed it! Let us examine the apostle's text yet further--his mention of baptism and spiritual food, using Christian terms and placing the fathers upon the same plane with us Christians, as if they also had had Baptism and the Holy Supper. He would have us know, first, the oft-repeated fact that God from the beginning led, redeemed and saved his saints by two instrumentalities--by his own word and external signs. Adam was saved by the word of promise (Gen 3, 15): The seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head; that is, Christ shall come to conquer sin, death and Satan for us. To this promise God added the sign of sacrifice, sacrifice kindled with fire from heaven, as in Abel's case (Gen 4, 4), and in other cases mentioned in the Scriptures. The word of promise was Adam's Gospel until the time of Noah and of Abraham. In this promise all the saints down to Abraham believed, and were redeemed; as we are redeemed by the word of the Gospel which we believe. The fire from heaven served them as a sign, as baptism does us, which is added to the word of God. 10. Such signs were repeated again and again at various times, the last sign being given by Christ in his own person--the Gospel with baptism, granted to all nations. For instance, God gave Noah the promise that he should survive the flood, and granted him a sign in the ship, or ark, he built. And by faith in the promise and sign Noah was justified and saved, with his family. Afterward God gave him another promise, and for a sign the rainbow. Again, he gave Abraham a promise, with the sign of circumcision. Circumcision was Abraham's baptism, just as the ark and the flood were that of Noah. So also our baptism is to us circumcision, ark and flood, according to Peter's explanation. 1 Pet 3, 21. Everywhere we meet the Word and the Sign of God, in which we must believe in order to be saved through faith from sin and death. 11. Thus the children of Israel had God's word that they should inherit the promised land. In addition to that word they were given many signs, in particular those Paul here names--the sea, the cloud, the bread from heaven, the water from the rock. These he calls their baptism; just as our baptism might be called our sea and cloud. Faith and the Spirit are the same everywhere, though the signs and the words vary. Signs and words indeed change from time to time, but faith in the one and same God continues. Through various signs and revelations, God at different times bestows the same faith and the same Spirit, effecting through these in all saints remission of sins, redemption from death, and salvation, whether they lived in the beginning or at the end of time, or while time progressed. 12. Such is Paul's meaning when he says the fathers did eat the same meat, and drink the same drink as we. He, however, qualifies with the word "spiritual." Externally and individually Israel had signs and revelations different from ours; but the Spirit and their faith in Christ was identical with our own. Spiritual eating and drinking is simply believing in God's Word and sign. Christ says (Jn 6, 56), "He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood abideth in me, and I in him." And in the preceding verse, "My flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed." That is, He that believeth in me shall live. "For they drank of a spiritual rock that followed them." 13. In other words, they believed in the same Christ in whom we believe, though he was yet to come in the flesh; and the sign of their faith was the material rock, from which they physically drank water, just as we in partaking of the material bread and wine at the altar spiritually eat and drink the true Christ. With the outward act of eating and drinking we exercise inward faith. Had the Israelites not possessed the word of God and faith as they drank from the rock, the act of drinking would not have benefited their souls. Neither would it profit us to receive bread and wine at the altar if we were without faith. Indeed, had not the Word of God come first, the rock would not have yielded water and command faith. Likewise, if God's Word did not accompany bread and wine, they would not be spiritual food nor exercise faith. 14. So it is ever the same spiritual meat and drink which God embodies in his word and sign, whatever its material and external form may be. Were he to command me to lift up a mere straw, immediately the straw would hold for me spiritual food and drink. Not because of any virtue in the straw, but because it is a revelation and sign of the divine truth and presence. Again, if God's Word and his sign be lacking or unrecognized, the very presence of God himself has no effect. Christ says of himself (Jn 6, 63), "The flesh profiteth nothing." He makes that statement because his hearers pay no heed to the words in which he speaks of his flesh, though it is these which make his body the true meat, according to his declaration (v. 58), "This is the bread which came down out of heaven." Therefore we are not to regard unduly, as blind reason does, the works, signs and miracles of God; rather we are to recognize his message therein. This is the act of faith. 15. The apostle refers to a single type--the rock, saying: "They drank of a spiritual rock that followed them: and the rock was Christ." By this statement he makes all the figures and signs granted to the people of Israel by the Word of God refer to Christ; for where the Word of God is, there Christ is. All the words and promises of God are concerning Christ. Christ himself refers the serpent of Moses to himself, giving it a typical significance, Jn 3, 14. We may truly say the Israelites looked upon the same serpent we behold, for they saw the spiritual serpent that followed them, or Christ on the cross. Their beholding was believing in the Word of God, with the serpent for a sign; even as their spiritual drinking was believing in the Word of God with the rock for a sign. Without the Word of God, the serpent could have profited them nothing; nor could brazen serpents innumerable, had the Israelites gazed upon them forever. Likewise the rock would have profited them nothing without the word of God; they might have crushed to powder all the rocks of the world or drank from them to no purpose. 16. According to the general principle here laid down by Paul, by using the rock as illustration, we may say the Israelites partook of the same bread of heaven whereof we eat; and they ate of the spiritual bread of heaven which followed them--Christ. With them, eating was believing in the Word of God, while they had for their sign the bread from heaven whereof they physically partook. Had not this Word accompanied the bread, it would have been simply material food, incapable of profiting the soul or calling forth faith. Christ says (Jn 6, 32), "It was not Moses that gave you the bread out of heaven; but my Father giveth you the true bread out of heaven." And (verse 58), "Not as the fathers ate [manna], and died." Even Moses says (Deut 8, 3), "And fed thee with manna ... that he might make thee know that man doth not live by bread only, but by everything that proceedeth out of the mouth of Jehovah." In other words, "In the material manna you must not merely see the work--the act of satisfying the appetite--but much rather the word of promise bringing you the bread of heaven; for by that word you live forever if you have faith." 17. We may say the same concerning the sea and the cloud. The children of Israel walked under the same cloud that shadows us; that means, they walked under the spiritual cloud that followed them--Christ. Otherwise expressed, walking under the cloud was simply believing in the word of God, the word they had in their hearts, which told them to follow the cloud. Without that word they would have been unable to believe or to follow; indeed, with the word lacking, the cloud would never have appeared. Therefore, the cloud was called the glory of the Lord whose appearance had been promised. So we see how we must in all things have regard to the word of God. To it faith must attach itself. Without it, either there are no signs and works of God, or else, existing, and regarded with the physical eyes only, without reference to the Word, they cause one to open his mouth in wonderment for a while like everything else which is new, but they do not profit the soul nor do they appeal to faith. 18. Some take the words "which followed them" to mean that the spiritual rock accompanied the children of Israel, companioning with them--"comitante petra," not "petra consequente," Christ being spiritually present in the word and by faith. This view they endeavor to base upon the Greek text. I have rendered it: "the rock following." The point is not worth contention. Let each understand it as he may. Both interpretations given are correct. I hold to what I have offered because all the circumstances of the incident, and earlier words of God, pointed to a future Christ, a Christ who should follow, in whom they should all believe. Thus Abraham saw behind him the ram in the thicket and took and sacrificed him; that is, he believed in the Christ who afterward should come and be sacrificed. 19. Again, some say the common noun in the clause "and the rock was Christ" means the material rock; and since Christ cannot be material rock they explain the inconsistency by saying the rock signifies Christ. They here make the word "was" equivalent to "signifies." The same reasoning they apply to certain words of Christ; for instance, they say where Christ, referring to the Holy Supper (Mt 26, 26), commands, "Take, eat; this is my body"--they say the meaning is, "This bread signifies, but is not truly, my body." They would thereby deny that the bread is the body of Christ. In the same manner do they deal with the text (Jn 15, 1) "I am the true vine," in making it "I am signified by the vine." Beware of such reasoners. Their own malice has led them to such perverting of Scripture. Paul here expressly distinguishes between material and spiritual rocks, saying: "They drank of a spiritual rock that followed them: and the rock was Christ." He does not say the material rock was Christ, but the spiritual rock. The material rock was not spiritual, and did not follow or go with them. 20. The explanations and distortions of such false reasoners are not needed here. The words are true as they read; they are to be understood in substance and not figuratively. So in John 15, 1, Christ's reference is not to a material but a spiritual vine. How would this read, "I am signified by a spiritual vine"? Christ is speaking of that which exists, and must so be understood--"I am"; here is a true spiritual vine. Similar is John 6, 55, "My flesh is meat indeed." The thought is not, "My flesh signifies, or is signified by, true meat"; spiritual meat is spoken of and the meaning is, "My flesh is substantially a food; not for the stomach, physically, but for the soul, spiritually." Neither must you permit the words "This is my body" to be perverted to mean that the body is but signified by the bread, as some pretend; you must accept the words precisely as they mean--"This bread is essentially, by a real presence, my body." The forcing of Scripture to meet one's own opinions cannot be tolerated. A clear text proving that the infinitive "to be" is equivalent to "signify" would be needed; and, even though this might be proven in a few instances, it would not suffice. It would still have to be indisputably shown true in the place in question. This can never be done. Now, the proposition being impossible, we must surrender to the Word of God and accept it as it stands. 21. Christ has been typified by various signs and objects in the Old Testament, and the rock is one of them. Note first, the material rock spoken of had place independently of man's labor and far from man's domain, in the wilderness, in desolate solitude. So Christ is a truly insignificant object in the world, disregarded, unnoticed; nor is he indebted to human labor. 22. Further, water flowing from the rock is contrary to nature; it is purely miraculous. The water typifies the quickening spirit of God, who proceeds from the condemned, crucified and dead Christ. Thus life is drawn from death, and this by the power of God. Christ's death is our life, and if we would live we must die with him. 23. Moses strikes the rock at the command of God and points to it, thus prefiguring the ministerial office which by word of mouth strikes from the spiritual rock the Spirit. For God will give his Spirit to none without the instrumentality of the Word and the ministerial office instituted by him for this purpose, adding the command that nothing be preached but Christ. Had not Moses obeyed the command of God to smite the rock with his rod, no water would ever have flowed therefrom. His rod represents rod of the mouth whereof Isaiah speaks (ch. 11, 4): "He shall smite the earth with the rod of his mouth; and with the breath of his lips shall he slay the wicked." "A sceptre of equity is the sceptre of thy kingdom." Ps 45, 6. _Second Sunday Before Lent_ Text: Second Corinthians 11, 19-33; 12, 1-9. 19 For ye bear with the foolish gladly, being wise yourselves. 20 For ye bear with a man, if he bringeth you into bondage, if he devoureth you, if he taketh you captive, if he exalteth himself, if he smiteth you on the face. 21 I speak by way of disparagement, as though we had been weak. Yet whereinsoever any is bold (I speak in foolishness), I am bold also. 22 Are they Hebrews? so am I. Are they Israelites? so am I. Are they the seed of Abraham? so am I. 23 Are they ministers of Christ? (I speak as one beside himself) I more; in labors more abundantly, in prisons more abundantly, in stripes above measure, in deaths oft. 24 Of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one. 25 Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day have I been in the deep; 26 in journeyings often, in perils of rivers, in perils of robbers, in perils from my countrymen, in perils from the Gentiles, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; 27 in labor and travail, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness. 28 Besides those things that are without, there is that which presseth upon me daily, anxiety for all the churches. 29 Who is weak, and I am not weak? who is caused to stumble, and I burn not? 30 If I must needs glory, I will glory of the things that concern my weakness. 31 The God and Father of the Lord Jesus, he who is blessed for evermore knoweth that I lie not. 32 In Damascus the governor under Aretas the king guarded the city of the Damascenes in order to take me: 33 and through a window was I let down in a basket by the wall, and escaped his hands. 1 I must needs glory, though it is not expedient; but I will come to visions and revelations of the Lord. 2 I know a man in Christ, fourteen years ago (whether in the body, I know not; or whether out of the body, I know not; God knoweth), such a one caught up even to the third heaven. 3 And I know such a man (whether in the body, or apart from the body, I know not; God knoweth), 4 how that he was caught up into Paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter. 5 On behalf of such a one will I glory: but on mine own behalf I will not glory, save in my weakness. 6 For if I should desire to glory, I shall not be foolish; for I shall speak the truth: but I forbear, lest any man should account of me above that which he seeth me to be, or heareth from me. 7 And by reason of the exceeding greatness of the revelations, that I should not be exalted overmuch, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, that I should not be exalted overmuch. 8 Concerning this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. 9 And he hath said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my power is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. PAUL'S GLORY IN HIS LABOR AND SUFFERING. 1. They who praise themselves are fools according to the views and speech of the world. The saying is, "Self-praise is unsavory." It is forbidden by Solomon in Proverbs 27, 2: "Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth." And Christ says (Jn 8, 54), "If I glorify myself, my glory is nothing." Paul acknowledges that he had to become a fool, something for which he had no desire, by reason of the necessity laid upon him to praise himself. The false apostles, as false spirits habitually do, delivered great, fine, splendid speeches to the multitude, in their vainglorious attempt to raise themselves above Paul, thereby to make contemptible and insignificant that apostle and his doctrine. 2. Paul was little concerned that he personally should be lightly esteemed and the false apostles highly honored, but he could not bear to have the Gospel perish in that way and his Corinthian converts seduced. Therefore he exerts himself to the utmost, at the risk of becoming a fool by his boasting. But he, in his strong spiritual wisdom, glories in a masterly manner, and skilfully puts to shame the boasts of the false apostles. First, he shows them he can glory in the very things wherein they glory, and in even more. At the same time he declares himself a fool for glorying. He might have said: "Foolish, indeed, are they, and boorish creatures, who glory in themselves. They should feel shame to the very depth of their heart. No true, sane man boasts of what he is. The wicked and the frivolous do that." But the apostle's attack is not quite so severe and harsh. He addresses them civilly and delicately in that he makes himself appear a fool, as if to say: "Look! how becoming self-praise is in myself, although I have grounds for my glorying. But how much more disgraceful for you to boast when perhaps none of your claims are true." So Paul wears the foolscap, that those coarse fools might have a mirror in which to behold their real selves. This is wisely making foolishness minister to the good of the neighbor and to the honor of the Gospel. To the just, even folly is wisdom, just as all things are pure and holy unto him. 3. Second, Paul deals the false apostles a stout blow when he shows them to be ignorant of the grounds in which a true Christian seeks his glory. For, as he teaches them, a Christian glories in the things whereof other men are ashamed--in the cross and in his sufferings. This is the true art of glorying. To this he refers when he says (Gal 6, 14), "Far be it from me to glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." But the false apostles are careful to avoid glorying thus; for they flee with alacrity from reproach and affliction, rather seeking a life of ease and honor. They ever would have prominence over their fellows, be superior to and unlike others--certain indication that they lack the right spirit and are not of God. Christ testifies (Jn 5, 44), "How can ye believe, who receive glory one of another, and the glory that cometh from the only God ye seek not?" 4. The main point of this lesson is that in a preacher or a teacher no vice is more injurious and venomous than vainglory. It is true, however, that avarice also is an evil characteristic of false teachers, being found hand in hand with vainglory. For the sake of profit, for the purpose of gain, the false teachers aspire to prominence, to honor and position. With them, nothing but current coin will pass, and what does not pay dividend is unprofitable. Any other vice is more endurable in a preacher than these two, though none is compatible with goodness, blamelessness and perfection being required in the ministry according to Paul, Titus 1, 7. This is not surprising, for the two vices under consideration are essentially and directly opposed to the nature of the ministry. The ministry is ordained to have as its aim the glory of God and its promotion. Psalm 19, 1 affirms, "The heavens declare the glory of God." And ministers must, for God's glory, suffer reproach and shame. Jeremiah complains (ch. 20, 8), "The word of Jehovah is made a reproach unto me, and a derision, all the day." The world will not endure the Word. For him who in preaching seeks his own honor, it is impossible to remain in the right path and preach the pure Gospel. Consequently he avoids striving for God's honor; he must preach what pleases the people, what brings honor to himself and magnifies his skill and wisdom. 5. Avarice, too, is, according to its very nature, opposed to the interests of the ministry. Just as the ministry is to be devoted to God's honor at the expense of our own, so is it to be devoted to the interests of our neighbor and not to our own. Otherwise it is an injury rather than a benefit. With the false teacher seeking only his own good, it is impossible for him to preach the truth. He is compelled to speak what is pleasing to men in order to gratify his appetites. Therefore Paul (Rom 16, 18) says of such preachers that they serve their own bellies. And in many places the Scriptures reprove avarice. Let him, then, who would be a preacher guard vigilantly against vainglory and avarice. But, should he feel himself in the clutch of these sins, let him avoid the ministry. For under such conditions he will accomplish no good; he will only dishonor God, seduce souls and be a thief and robber in the acquisition of property. With this explanation, the lesson is now easily understood, but we will consider a few points. "For ye bear with the foolish gladly, being wise yourselves." 6. Paul commends the Corinthians for their patience and wisdom in six points: as wise men, they cheerfully endure the foolish; they bear with those who bring them into bondage and oppress them; with those who devour them; with those who take from them [or take them captive]; with those who exalt themselves; with those who smite them in the face. But his commendation is meant to pave the way for his folly--to prepare them to suffer him the more readily. He would say, "Since you suffer so much from them who injure you--and you are wise in that--I trust you will bear with me who have wrought you only good, when I act the fool for a little; particularly when my object in it is your good--to preserve the Gospel among you in opposition to the false apostles." Note how tenderly and patiently he deals with the Corinthians when he might have severely reproved them for tolerating the false apostles. He commends them as does a father a timid child, and yet, while commending them he censures both them and their false teachers. He handles them as tenderly as if he held a raw egg in his hand, in order not to distract or terrify them. 7. Paul delivers a masterly stroke when with the same words he praises the Corinthians and rebukes them and their false apostles. His commendation of their patience is in reality reproof, blows and wounds for the false teachers. He would say: "I have preached the Gospel to you at my own expense and jeopardy. By my labor have ye attained to its blessing. Ye have done nothing for me in return, and I have been no tax upon you. Now, upon my departure, others come and exploit you, and seek honor and profit from my labor. They would be your masters and I am to be ignored. They boast as if the accomplishment were all theirs. Of these ye must be disciples and pupils. Their preaching ye must accept, while my Gospel must become odious. My case is that of the bee who labors to make honey and then the idle drones and the earthworms come and consume the sweet not of their making. In me is illustrated Christ's proverb (Jn 4, 37), 'one soweth, and another reapeth.' Continually one enters into the fruits of another's labor. One must toil and incur danger, while another reaps the benefit in security. 8. "Ye can suffer these false apostles, though they be fools and teach only foolishness. In this ye display wisdom and patience. But ye do not so suffer me, who taught you true wisdom. Nor do ye permit me much enjoyment of my labor. Further, ye can permit them to make servants of you, to be your lords and to order you to do their bidding. And ye obey. But I who have made myself your servant, I who have served you without profit to myself, that ye might be lords with Christ, must now be ignored and all my labors be lost. They rule you at their pleasure, and their pleasure is all they consult. You suffer yourselves to be devoured. That is, your property is consumed; for ye bestow it upon them abundantly, as Psalm 14, 4 has it, 'Who eat up my people.' Upon such as these ye can shower goods and gifts, and can permit them to devour you as they please. But I have never enjoyed aught of your property. All my service has been without recompense, that ye might become rich in Christ. "Again, ye suffer the false teachers to take from you beyond your consent; to exalt themselves above you, to esteem themselves better than you and me, and to exercise their arrogance upon you. But ye deal not so with me, who have sacrificed my own substance, and have taken from others, that I might bring the Gospel to you; who have not exalted myself above any, but have yielded to all and served them. The false apostles permit you to serve them; in fact, trample you beneath their feet. They even smite you in the face; that is, they reproach you publicly, put you to shame, and abuse you with rude and insolent words. They act as if ye were beasts of burden and they your real masters. All this ye suffer. But my patience with you, my parental tenderness, past and present, is remembered no more. Paul is now represented as having wrought no good at Corinth." PAUL'S DESCRIPTION OF FALSE TEACHERS. 9. Note the master hand wherewith Paul portrays the character of false teachers, showing how they betray their avarice and ambition. First, they permit true teachers to lay the foundation and perform the labor; then they come and desire to do the work over, to reap the honors and the benefits. They bring about that the name and the work of the true teachers receive no regard and credit; what they themselves have brought--that is the thing. They make the poor, simple-minded people to stare open-mouthed while they win them with flowery words and seduce them with fair speeches, as mentioned in Romans 16, 18. These are the idle drones that consume the honey they will not and cannot make. That this was the condition of affairs at Corinth is very clear from this epistle--indeed, from both epistles. Paul continually refers to others having followed him and built upon the foundation he has laid. Messengers of the devil, he terms them. 10. And such false teachers have the good fortune that all their folly is tolerated, even though the people realize how these act the fool, and rather rudely at that. They have success with it all, and people bear with them. But no patience is to be exercised toward true teachers! Their words and their works are watched with the intent of entrapping them, as complained of in Psalm 17, 9 and elsewhere. When only apparently a mote is found, it is exaggerated to a very great beam. No toleration is granted. There is only judgment, condemnation and scorn. Hence the office of preaching is a grievous one. He who has not for his sole motive the benefit of his neighbor and the glory of God, cannot continue therein. The true teacher must labor, and permit others to have the honor and profit of his efforts, while he receives injury and derision for his reward. Here the saying holds true: "To love without guerdon, nor wearying of the burden." Only the Spirit of God can inspire such love. To flesh and blood it is impossible. Paul here scores the false prophets when he says, "Ye suffer fools gladly"; in other words, "I know the false preachers often act as fools, nor can they help it, because their teaching is false; yet ye excuse them." 11. In the second place such teachers are disposed to bring the people into downright bondage and to bind their conscience by forcing laws upon them and teaching work-righteousness. The effect is that fear impels them to do what has been pounded into them, as if they were bond-slaves, while their teachers command fear and attention. But the true teachers, they who give us freedom of conscience and create us lords, we soon forget, even despise. The dominion of false teachers is willingly tolerated and patiently endured; indeed, it is given high repute. All those conditions are punishments sent by God upon them who do not receive the Gospel with love and gratitude. Christ says (Jn 5, 43): "I am come in my Father's name, and ye receive me not: if another shall come in his own name, him ye shall receive." The Pope, with his spiritual office, became our lord, and we became his captives, through his doctrine of human works. And our present-day schismatics pursue the same object with their fanciful doctrine concerning their works. 12. In the third place, false teachers flay their disciples to the bone, and cut them out of house and home, but even this is taken and endured. Such, I opine, has been our experience under the Papacy. But true preachers are even denied their bread. Yet this all perfectly squares with justice! For, since men fail to give unto those from whom they receive the Word of God, and permit the latter to serve them at their own expense, it is but fair they should give the more unto preachers of lies, whose instruction redounds to their injury. What is withheld from Christ must be given in tenfold proportion to the devil. They who refuse to give the servant of the truth a single thread, must be oppressed by liars. 13. Fourth, false apostles forcibly take more than is given them. They seize whatever and whenever they can, thus enhancing their insatiable avarice. This, too, is excused in them. Thus, the great establishments of the Pope did not suffice for him; with various artifices, bulls, laws and indulgences, he has brought under his power land and people and all they possess, exhausting the world by usury. And so it should be, for this state of affairs was richly deserved by men for despising the Gospel and its preachers. 14. Fifth, these deceitful teachers, not satisfied with having acquired our property, must exalt themselves above us and lord it over us. Not only do they possess all property, but they must for that very reason become our superiors; must have precedence and receive honor. We bow our knees before them, worship them and kiss their feet. And we suffer it all, yes, with fearful reverence regard it just and right. And it is just and right, for why did we not honor the Gospel by accepting and preserving it? 15. Sixth, our false apostles justly reward us by smiting us in the face. That is, they consider us inferior to dogs; they abuse us, and treat us as foot-rags. I venture to say we became sensible of such treatment when, under the Papacy, we were readily put in the van, cursed, condemned and delivered to the devil. We endured it all, suffered most patiently, and yielded up property, honor, body and soul. Fault in a sincere teacher, however, could by no means be tolerated. Very well, then; God is just, and it is his judgment that we must honor the messengers of Satan a thousand times more than his own, and do and suffer everything. "I speak by way of disparagement [speak as concerning reproach], as though we had been weak." 16. There are two ways of interpreting this sentence: First, as meaning: "I speak as one of the weak whose folly you must endure; for which I deserve reproach, since I ought to bear with you." From such meaning I to this day have seen no cause to swerve. The other interpretation is: "I speak as one reproached--after the manner of the weak." Or, more fully expressed: "I can speak in two ways of myself and my class: First, with honor, because of our strength in the sight of God and the spiritually-minded, worthy of honor, noble; not weak but strong, able. But I will not at present employ this way, for we are now despised; we are not known as honorable. And all because of the false prophets. I will, then, present myself in the other light, as I am regarded--despised, held in reproach and disrespect, weak and incapable. But even this condition shall be an occasion of glory for me; my reproach and weakness is more honorable than their honor, power and strength. What would my glory be should my actual strength inspire my speech!" "Weakness," according to Paul's own later interpretation, implies being regarded worthless, unfit, a failure. The apostle's meaning, then, is: "I, too, will be one of the boasting fools. You will excuse it in me for I speak from the standpoint of my critics, that of a man contemptible, foolish, incompetent. Before God, however, I feel that I am a quite different being." 17. And recollect, Paul says, "Because ye are wise, ye suffer fools gladly," implying that one fool cannot tolerate another. The saying is, "Two fools in one house will not do." Reason and wisdom are required, to bear with another's infirmities and to excuse them. "Yet whereinsoever any is bold." 18. That is, in whatever the false apostles can boast, I can likewise glory. Here we are shown what is the ground of the false apostles' boasting: their outward respectability--being of Abraham's seed, children of Israel, Christ's preachers. Therein they think to far excel the Corinthians, claiming their doctrine and works to be of greater weight because they have Moses and the prophets for their teachers. But they failed to perceive that their boast is of mere externals, that render no one righteous or better before God. The majority of the Hebrews, of the Israelites, of the seed of Abraham, and of the preachers of Christ are lost. Names are of no consequence; they only make a fine show and serve to seduce the simple-minded. Paul boasts of his origin and yet derides his boasting, calling it fool's work. His object is to destroy the boasting of the false prophets, that the people might not be deceived. 19. Note how, even in Paul's time, great men erred concerning the true sense of the Gospel, and many noble preachers would have estimated Christian life by a merely external appearance and name. The true spiritual preachers must have been few. Should it be strange, then, that in our time sincere preachers are not numerous, and that the majority of ministers riot in what they themselves seem and do? It cannot and shall not be otherwise. The thievish drones, which are prone to riot, let them riot! We will resist to the utmost of our power, commending the matter to God, who doubtless will grant us sufficient honor and profit, both temporally and eternally, though we must labor gratuitously, accepting injury and derision as our reward. Our adversaries will not long continue their persecutions, for, as Paul says just preceding our lesson, they will eventually receive their deserts. 20. Again, Paul boasts of certain temporal afflictions wherein he excels the false apostles, who suffer nothing, for the sake of either the word or of souls, but only boast of name and person. Among the afflictions he mentions, he names having been a night and a day in the deep. Some refer this allusion to the voyage of which Luke writes (Acts 27, 20-21), when for fourteen days Paul and his companions ate nothing and saw never a star, being day and night continually covered by the surges and waves of the sea. Others think Paul was, like Jonah, personally sunk into the deep sea, though but for a day and a night. Such is the clear meaning of the text. Yet others interpret it as having reference to a prison or dungeon, because the Greek text makes no mention of the sea--simply "the deep." "Who is weak, and I am not weak?" 21. Of external afflictions affecting not his own person, but distressing others, Paul mentions two: he is weak if another is weak, and burns if another is offended. Thereby he plainly portrays the ardor of his heart--how full of love he is; the defects and sorrows of others pain him as his own. By "weakness," I imagine, he means, not bodily infirmity, but weakness of faith. He refers to those who, young in the faith, have a tender and frail conscience, thereby betokening immaturity and feebleness of faith. He says (Rom 14, 2), "He that is weak eateth herbs"; and in First Corinthians 8, 12, that we sin against Christ if we wound a weak conscience. These weak ones Paul does not reject. He receives them and conducts himself as if he, too, were weak. He asserts (1 Cor 9, 22), "To the weak I became weak, that I might gain the weak." 22. This interpretation of the sentence is borne out in his allusion to "that which presseth upon me daily, anxiety for all the churches." Paul would say: "I exert myself, I have a continual care, I urge and admonish constantly, that offenses and false doctrine may not invade and destroy my planting; may not violate and ruin the weak consciences." As seen in his epistle to the Corinthians, directed against the false apostles, and in that to the Thessalonians, such is his vigilant anxiety to guard them from the tempter that he sends them a special messenger, and he exultingly declares it is life to him to learn of their steadfastness. 23. Likewise, by the assertion that he burns, we are to understand that he is exceedingly grieved and pained if one is offended; that is, if through misleading doctrines or examples one in any wise falls from the faith. Of the offense to faith, he says much in Romans 14. Not desiring to be offended with the offended, as he became weak with the weak, he says: "I burn and sorrow for them." "I know a man in Christ, fourteen years ago." 24. Of the translation of Paul into the third heaven many have written, perplexing themselves over what constituted the first, second and third heavens, and the paradise. Paul himself, who had the experience, does not tell, and declares no man can tell, for none may utter the words he heard. Therefore, we must humbly acknowledge we do not know the nature of these things. And it matters not. Paul does not boast of his experience for the purpose of imparting knowledge to us or of enabling us to duplicate it. The purpose of his boasting is simply to stop the mouths of the fanatics and to show how paltry was their glory in comparison with his own. Certain it is, however, that Paul was ravished from this life into a life ineffable; otherwise his expression would be meaningless. PAUL'S THORN IN THE FLESH AND HUMILITY. "There was given to me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan." 25. And must this mighty apostle, O merciful God, be subject to trials lest he exalt himself because of his great revelations? Then how should others, how should such infirm beings as we, be free from self-exaltation? Many teachers have explained Paul's thorn to be the temptations of the flesh. The Latin text is responsible for this interpretation; it reads, "stimulus carnis," a spear, or thorn for the flesh. Yet that rendering does not do justice to the words. Paul is not in the habit of terming temptations of the flesh "thorns." The thorn stands rather for something painful and afflicting. In "a thorn of the flesh" the thought is not of an instrumentality whereby the flesh stings, but of something that stings the flesh. The Greek text impels us to the thought of a thorn for the flesh, or a thorn upon or in the flesh. The idea is much like that in the German proverb, "The clog is bound to the dog's neck." We may imagine Paul expressing himself: "As a clog to a dog's neck, as a ring in a bear's nose, a bit in a horse's mouth or a gag in the mouth of a swine, in order to restrain them from running, biting and general mischief,--so is my thorn a clog to my body lest I exalt myself." 26. But Paul himself explains the nature of the clog, or thorn. He calls it "a messenger of Satan," a devil, to "buffet" him, or to flay and jog him. Hence a spiritual trial cannot be meant. The explanation appeals to me that the persecutions and sufferings the apostle recounts above constitute the devil's flaying. Thus his meaning would be: "I have received great revelations, for which reason the clog is bound to the dog; that is, the many dangers and misfortunes with which the angel of the devil buffets and humiliates my body will make me forget to exalt myself. They are the thorn in my flesh, or upon my body; for God will not permit it to come upon my soul." 27. Yet the text seems to imply some peculiar work of the devil upon Paul's body, for it says the thorn, or clog, is the messenger Satan employs to beat his body; and also that the apostle diligently but unavailingly thrice besought the Lord to remove it. I do not imagine him praying for the cessation of persecutions in a spirit of unwillingness to suffer them. But since he does not specify the affliction, we must let it remain a secret one, a distress known only to himself. It is enough for us to know that while God had given him great revelations, revelations beyond human ken, he also bound the clog to him--gave him a thorn for his body--to prevent his exaltation of himself; and that the knowledge of the buffetings and flaying caused by this clog, or devil, are likewise beyond human ken. "My power is made perfect in weakness." 28. It is a strange sort of strength which is weak and by its weakness grows stronger. Who ever heard of weak strength? or more absurd still, that strength is increased by weakness? Paul would here make a distinction between human strength and divine. Human strength increases with enhancement and decreases with enfeeblement. But God's power--his Word in us--rises in proportion to the pressure it receives. It is characteristic of God the Creator that he creates all things from naught, and again reduces to naught all created things. Human power cannot do this. The power of God is the true palm-wood which buoys itself in proportion as it is burdened and weighted. 29. Note here, "weakness" is not to be understood in a spiritual sense, as on a previous occasion, but externally; as not illness alone, but every sort of evil, misfortune, suffering and persecution calculated to buffet and humble the body. The power of Christ, in connection with which spiritual weakness cannot exist, is invoked against this weakness likewise. He says, "Most gladly will I glory in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." And his weaknesses he immediately explains as infirmities, injuries, necessities, persecutions and distresses. The thought, then, is: Christ is not mighty within us, his word and his faith are not strong in us, unless our bodies suffer affliction. The false apostles, however, take excellent care to escape suffering. _Sunday Before Lent_ Text: First Corinthians 13. 1 If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am become sounding brass, or a clanging cymbal. 2 And if I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 And if I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and if I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profiteth me nothing. 4 Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 5 doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is not provoked, taketh not account of evil; 6 rejoiceth not in unrighteousness, but rejoiceth with the truth; 7 beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. 8 Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall be done away; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall be done away. 9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part; 10 but when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away. 11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I felt as a child, I thought as a child: now that I am become a man, I have put away childish things. 12 For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known. 13 But now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; and the greatest of these is love. PAUL'S PRAISE OF CHRISTIAN LOVE. 1. Paul's purpose in this chapter is to silence and humble haughty Christians, particularly teachers and preachers. The Gospel gives much knowledge of God and of Christ, and conveys many wonderful gifts, as Paul recounts in Romans 12 and in First Corinthians 12. He tells us some have the gift of speaking, some of teaching, some of Scripture exposition; others of ruling; and so on. With Christians are great riches of spiritual knowledge, great treasures in the way of spiritual gifts. Manifest to all is the meaning of God, Christ, conscience, the present and the future life, and similar things. But there are to be found few indeed who make the right use of such gifts and knowledge; who humble themselves to serve others, according to the dictates of love. Each seeks his own honor and advantage, desiring to gain preferment and precedence over others. 2. We see today how the Gospel has given to men knowledge beyond anything known in the world before, and has bestowed upon them new capabilities. Various gifts have been showered upon and distributed among them which have redounded to their honor. But they go on unheeding. No one takes thought how he may in Christian love serve his fellow-men to their profit. Each seeks for himself glory and honor, advantage and wealth. Could one bring about for himself the distinction of being the sole individual learned and powerful in the Gospel, all others to be insignificant and useless, he would willingly do it; he would be glad could he alone be regarded as Mister Smart. At the same time he affects deep humility, great self-abasement, and preaches of love and faith. But he would take it hard had he, in practice, to touch with his little finger what he preaches. This explains why the world is so filled with fanatics and schismatics, and why every man would master and outrank all others. Such as these are haughtier than those that taught them. Paul here attacks these vainglorious spirits, and judges them to be wholly insignificant, though their knowledge may be great and their gifts even greater, unless they should humble themselves and use their gifts in the service of others. 3. To these coarse and mean people he addresses himself with a multitude of words and a lengthy discourse, a subject he elsewhere disposes of in a few words; for instance, where he says (Phil 2, 3-4), "In lowliness of mind each counting other better than himself; not looking each of you to his own things, but each of you also to the things of others." By way of illustration, he would pass sentence upon himself should he be thus blameworthy; this more forcibly to warn others who fall far short of his standing. He says, "If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels." 4. That is, though I had ability to teach and to preach with power beyond that of any man or angel, with words of perfect charm, with truth and excellence informing my message--though I could do this, "but have not love [charity]," and only seek my own honor and profit and not my neighbor's, "I am become sounding brass, or a clanging cymbal." In other words, "I might, perhaps, thereby teach others something, might fill their ears with sound, but before God I would be nothing." As a clock or a bell has not power to hear its own sound, and does not derive benefit from its stroke, so the preacher who lacks love cannot himself understand anything he says, nor does he thereby improve his standing before God. He has much knowledge, indeed, but because he fails to place it in the service of love, it is the quality of his knowledge that is at fault. 1 Cor 8, 1-12. Far better he were dumb or devoid of eloquence, if he but teach in love and meekness, than to speak as an angel while seeking but his own interests. "And if I have the gift of prophecy." 5. According to chapter 14, to prophesy is to be able, by the Holy Spirit's inspiration, correctly to understand and explain the prophets and the Scriptures. This is a most excellent gift. To "know mysteries" is to be able to apprehend the spiritual meaning of the Scriptures, or its allegorical references, as Paul does where (Gal 4, 24-31) he makes Sarah and Hagar representative of the two covenants, and Isaac and Ishmael of the two peoples--the Jews and the Christians. Christ does the same (Jn 3, 14) when he makes the brazen serpent of Moses typical of himself on the cross; again, when Isaac, David, Solomon and other characters of sacred history appear as figures of Christ. Paul calls it "mystery"--this hidden, secret meaning beneath the primary sense of the narrative. But "knowledge" is the understanding of practical matters, such as Christian liberty, or the realization that the conscience is not bound. Paul would say, then: "Though one may understand the Scriptures, both in their obvious and their hidden sense; though he may know all about Christian liberty and a proper conversation; yet if he have not love, if he do not with that knowledge serve his neighbor, it is all of no avail whatever; in God's sight he is nothing." 6. Note how forcibly yet kindly Paul restrains the disgraceful vice of vainglory. He disregards even those exalted gifts, those gifts of exceeding refinement, charm and excellence, which naturally produce pride and haughtiness though they command the admiration and esteem of men. Who would not suppose the Holy Spirit to dwell visibly where such wisdom, such discernment of the Scriptures, is present? Paul's two epistles to the Corinthians are almost wholly directed against this particular vice, for it creates much mischief where it has sway. In Titus 1, 7, he names first among the virtues of a bishop that he be "non superbus," not haughty. In other words that he do not exalt himself because of his office, his honor and his understanding, and despise others in comparison. But strangely Paul says, "If I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing." LOVE THE SPIRIT'S FRUIT RECEIVED BY FAITH. 7. We hold, and unquestionably it is true, that it is faith which justifies and cleanses. Rom 1, 17; 10, 10; Acts 15, 9. But if it justifies and purifies, love must be present. The Spirit cannot but impart love together with faith. In fact, where true faith is, the Holy Spirit dwells; and where the Holy Spirit is, there must be love and every excellence. How is it, then, Paul speaks as if faith without love were possible? We reply, this one text cannot be understood as subverting and militating against all those texts which ascribe justification to faith alone. Even the sophists have not attributed justification to love, nor is this possible, for love is an effect, or fruit, of the Spirit, who is received through faith. 8. Three answers may be given to the question. First, Paul has not reference here to the Christian faith, which is inevitably accompanied by love, but to a general faith in God and his power. Such faith is a gift; as, for instance, the gift of tongues, the gift of knowledge, of prophecy, and the like. There is reason to believe Judas performed miracles in spite of the absence of Christian faith, according to John 6, 70: "One of you is a devil." This general faith, powerless to justify or to cleanse, permits the old man with his vices to remain, just as do the gifts of intellect, health, eloquence, riches. 9. A second answer is: Though Paul alludes to the true Christian faith, he has those in mind who have indeed attained to faith and performed miracles with it, but fall from grace through pride, thus losing their faith. Many begin but do not continue. They are like the seed in stony ground. They soon fall from faith. The temptations of vainglory are mightier than those of adversity. One who has the true faith and is at the same time able to perform miracles is likely to seek and to accept honor with such eagerness as to fall from both love and faith. 10. A third answer is: Paul in his effort to present the necessity of love, supposes an impossible condition. For instance, I might express myself in this way: "Though you were a god, if you lacked patience you would be nothing." That is, patience is so essential to divinity that divinity itself could not exist without it, a proposition necessarily true. So Paul's meaning is, not that faith could exist without love, but on the contrary, so much is love an essential of faith that even mountain-moving faith would be nothing without love, could we separate the two even in theory. The third answer pleases me by far the best, though I do not reject the others, particularly the first. For Paul's very first premise is impossible--"if I speak with the tongues of angels." To speak with an angelic tongue is impossible for a human being, and he clearly emphasizes this impossibility by making a distinction between the tongues of men and those of angels. There is no angelic tongue; while angels may speak to us in a human tongue men can never speak in those of angels. 11. As we are to understand the first clause--"If I speak with the tongues of angels"--as meaning, Were it as possible as it is impossible for me to speak with the tongues of angels; so are we to understand the second clause--"If I have all faith, so as to remove mountains"--to mean, Were it as possible as it is impossible to have such faith. Equally impossible is the proposition of understanding all mysteries, and we must take it to mean, Were it possible for one to understand all mysteries, which, however, it is not. John, in the last chapter of his Gospel, asserts that the world could not contain all the books which might be written concerning the things of the kingdom. For no man can ever fathom the depths of these mysteries. Paul's manner of expressing himself is but a very common one, such as: "Even if I were a Christian, if I believed not in Christ I would be nothing"; or, "Were you even a prince, if you neither ruled men nor possessed property you would be nothing." "And if I bestow all my goods to feed the poor." 12. In other words, "Were I to perform all the good works on earth and yet had not charity--having sought therein only my own honor and profit and not my neighbor's--I would nevertheless be lost." In the performance of external works so great as the surrender of property and life, Paul includes all works possible of performance, for he who would at all do these, would do any work. Just so, when he has reference to tongues he includes all good words and doctrines; and in prophecy, understanding and faith he comprises all wisdom and knowledge. Some may risk body and property for the sake of temporal glory. So Romans and pagans have done; but as love was lacking and they sought only their own interests, they practically gave nothing. It being generally impossible for men to give away all their property, and their bodies to be burned, the meaning must be: "Were it possible for me to give all my goods to the poor, and my body to be burned." 13. The false reasoning of the sophists will not stand when they maliciously deduct from this text the theory that the Christian faith is not effectual to blot out sin and to justify. They say that before faith can justify it must be garnished with love; but justification and its distinctive qualities as well are beyond their ken. Justification of necessity precedes love. One does not love until he has become godly and righteous. Love does not make us godly, but when one has become godly love is the result. Faith, the Spirit and justification have love as effect and fruitage, and not as mere ornament and supplement. We maintain that faith alone justifies and saves. But that we may not deceive ourselves and put our trust in a false faith, God requires love from us as the evidence of our faith, so that we may be sure of our faith being real faith. THE NATURE OF CHRISTIAN LOVE. "Love suffereth long, and is kind." 14. Now Paul begins to mention the nature of love, enabling us to perceive where real love and faith are to be found. A haughty teacher does not possess the virtues the apostle enumerates. Lacking these, however many gifts the haughty have received through the Gospel, they are devoid of love. First, love "suffereth long." That is, it is patient; not sudden and swift to anger, not hasty to exercise revenge, impatience or blind rage. Rather it bears in patience with the wicked and the infirm until they yield. Haughty teachers can only judge, condemn and despise others, while justifying and exalting themselves. 15. Second, love is "kind." In other words, it is pleasant to deal with; is not of forbidding aspect; ignores no one; is kind to all men, in words, acts and attitude. 16. Third, love "envieth not"--is not envious nor displeased at the greater prosperity of others; grudges no one property or honor. Haughty teachers, however, are envious and unkind. They begrudge everyone else both honor and possessions. Though with their lips they may pretend otherwise, these characteristics are plainly visible in their deeds. 17. Fourth, love "vaunteth not itself." It is averse to knavery, to crafty guile and double-dealing. Haughty and deceptive spirits cannot refrain from such conduct, but love deals honestly and uprightly and face to face. 18. Fifth, love is not "puffed up," as are false teachers, who swell themselves up like adders. 19. Sixth, love "doth not behave itself unseemly" after the manner of the passionate, impatient and obstinate, those who presume to be always in the right, who are opposed to all men and yield to none, and who insist on submission from every individual, otherwise they set the world on fire, bluster and fume, shriek and complain, and thirst for revenge. That is what such inflating pride and haughtiness of which we have just spoken lead to. 20. Seventh, love "seeketh not her own." She seeks not financial advancement; not honor, profit, ease; not the preservation of body and life. Rather she risks all these in her ... [text missing from this edition] ... is no such thing as the Church of Christ nor as true Christians. Many erring spirits, especially strong pretenders to ... [text missing from this edition] 21. Eighth, love "is not [easily] provoked" by wrong and ingratitude; it is meek. False teachers can tolerate nothing; they seek only their own advantage and honor, to the injury of others. 22. Ninth, love "taketh not account of [thinketh no] evil." It is not suspicious; it puts the best construction on everything and takes all in good faith. The haughty, however, are immeasurably suspicious; always solicitous not to be underrated, they put the worst construction on everything, as Joab construed Abner's deeds. 2 Sam 3, 25. This is a shameful vice, and they who are guilty of it are hard to handle. 23. Tenth, love "rejoiceth not in unrighteousness [iniquity]." The words admit of two interpretations: First, as having reference to the delight of an individual in his own evil doings. Solomon (Prov 2, 14) speaks of those who "rejoice to do evil." Such must be either extremely profligate and shameless, characters like harlots and knaves; or else they must be hypocrites, who do not appreciate the wickedness of their conduct; characters like heretics and schismatics, who rejoice when their knavery succeeds under the name of God and of the truth. I do not accept this interpretation, but the other. Paul's meaning is that false teachers are malicious enough to prefer to hear, above all things, that some other does wrong, commits error and is brought to shame; and their motive is simply that they themselves may appear upright and godly. Such was the attitude of the pharisee toward the publican, in the Gospel. But love's compassion reaches far beyond its own sins, and prays for others. 24. Eleventh, love "rejoiceth with [in] the truth." Here is evidence that the preceding phrase is to be taken as having reference to malicious rejoicing at another's sin and fall. Rejoicing in the truth is simply exulting in the right-doing and integrity of another. Similarly, love is grieved at another's wrong-doing. But to the haughty it is an affliction to learn of uprightness in someone else; for they imagine such integrity detracts from their own profit and honor. 25. Twelfth, love "beareth all things." It excuses every failing in all men, however weak, unjust or foolish one may be apparently, and no one can be guilty of a wrong too great for it to overlook. But none can do right in the eyes of the haughty, who ever find something to belittle and censure as beyond toleration, even though they must hunt up an old fence to find the injury. 26. Thirteenth, love "believeth all things." Paul does not here allude to faith in God, but to faith in men. His meaning is: Love is of decidedly trustful disposition. The possessor of it believes and trusts all men, considering them just and upright like himself. He anticipates no wily and crooked dealing, but permits himself to be deceived, deluded, flouted, imposed upon, at every man's pleasure, and asks, "Do you really believe men so wicked?" He measures all other hearts by his own, and makes mistakes with utmost cheerfulness. But such error works him no injury. He knows God cannot forsake, and the deceiver of love but deceives himself. The haughty, on the contrary, trust no one, will believe none, nor brook deception. 27. Fourteenth, love "hopeth all things." Love despairs of no man, however wicked he may be. It hopes for the best. As implied here, love says, "We must, indeed, hope for better things." It is plain from this that Paul is not alluding to hope in God. Love is a virtue particularly representing devotion to a neighbor; his welfare is its goal in thought and deed. Like its faith, the hope entertained by love is frequently misplaced, but it never gives up. Love rejects no man; it despairs of no cause. But the proud speedily despair of men generally, rejecting them as of no account. 28. Fifteenth, love "endureth all things." It endures whatever harm befalls, whatever injury it suffers; it endures when its faith and hope in men have been misplaced; endures when it sustains damage to body, property or honor. It knows that no harm has been done since it has a rich God. False teachers, however, bear with nothing, least of all with perfidy and the violation of plighted faith. 29. Sixteenth, love never faileth; that means, it abides forever, also in the life to come. It never gives up, never permits itself to be hindered or defeated by the wickedness or ingratitude of men, as do worldly individuals and false saints, who, immediately on perceiving contempt or ingratitude, draw back, unwilling to do further good to any, and, rendering themselves quite inhuman, become perfect misanthropes like Timon in his reputation among the Greeks. Love does not so. It permits not itself to be made wicked by the wickedness of men, nor to be hindered in well-doing. It continues to do good everywhere, teaching and admonishing, aiding and serving, notwithstanding its services and benefits must be rewarded, not by good, but by evil. Love remains constant and immovable; it continues, it endures, in this earthly life and also in the life to come. The apostle adds, "Whether there be prophecies, they shall be done away; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall be done away." Love he commends above all other endowments, as a gift that can never pass, even in the life to come. Those other gifts, the boast of the false apostles, are bestowed only for this present life, to serve in the administering of the ministerial office. Prophecy, tongues, knowledge, all must cease; for in yonder life each individual will himself perceive perfectly and there will be no need for one to teach another. Likewise, all differences, all inequalities, shall be no more. No knowledge and no diversity of gifts is necessary; God himself will be all in every soul. 1 Cor 15, 28. 30. Here Paul gives utterance to the distinction between the life of faith here below and that heavenly life of divine vision. He would teach that we have in this life and the other the same possession, for it is the same God and the same treasures which we have here by faith and there by sight. In the objects themselves there is no difference; the difference consists in our knowledge. We have the same God in both lives, but in different manner of possession. The mode of possessing God in this life is faith. Faith is an imperfect, obscure vision, which makes necessary the Word, which, in turn, receives vogue through the ministry, tongues and prophecy. Without the Word, faith cannot live. But the mode of possessing God in the future life is not faith but sight. This is perfect knowledge, rendering unnecessary the Word, and likewise preaching, tongues and prophecy. These, then, must pass. Paul continues, "We know in part, and we prophesy in part." 31. "We know in part"; that is, in this life we know imperfectly, for it is of faith and not of sight. And we "prophesy in part"; that is, imperfectly, for the substance of our prophecy is the Word and preaching. Both knowledge and prophecy, however, reveal nothing short of what the angels see--the one God. "But when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away." He proves this by way of illustration and contrasts the child with the man. To children, who are yet weak, play is a necessity; it is a substitute for office and work. Similarly, we in the present life are far too frail to behold God. Until we are able, it is necessary that we should use the medium of Word and faith, which are adapted to our limitations. "For now we see in a mirror [through a glass] darkly; but then face to face." 32. Faith, Paul tells us, is like a mirror, like a riddle. The actual face is not in the glass; there is but the image of it. Likewise, faith gives us, not the radiant countenance of eternal Deity, but a mere image of him, an image derived through the Word. As a dark riddle points to something more than it expresses, so faith suggests something clearer than that which it perceives. But in the life to come, mirror and riddle, faith and its demonstration, shall all have ceased to be. God's face and our own shall be mutually and clearly revealed. Paul says, "Now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known [know even also as I am known]." That is, God now knows me perfectly, clearly and plainly; no dark veil is upon myself. But as to him, a dark veil hides him from me. With the same perfect clearness wherewith he now knows me, I shall then know him--without a veil. The veil shall be taken away, not from him, but from me; for upon him is no veil. THE GREATEST CHRISTIAN VIRTUE IS LOVE. "But now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; and the greatest of these is love." 33. The sophists have transgressed in a masterly manner as regards this verse. They have made faith vastly inferior to love because of Paul's assertion that love is greater than faith and greater than hope. As usual, their mad reason blindly seizes upon the literal expression. They hack a piece out of it and the remainder they ignore. Thus they fail to understand Paul's meaning; they do not perceive that the sense of Paul concerning the greatness of love is expressed both in the text and the context. For surely it cannot be disputed that the apostle is here referring to the permanent or temporary character respectively of love and other gifts, and not to their rank or power. As to rank, not faith only, but the Word, surpasses love; for the Word is the power of God unto salvation to all that believe. Rom 1, 16. Yet the Word must pass. But though love is the fruit of the Word and its effect, it shall never be abolished. Faith possesses God himself. It possesses and can accomplish all things; yet it must cease. Love gives and blesses the neighbor, as a result of faith, and it shall never be done away. 34. Now, Paul's statement that love is greater than faith and hope is intended as an expression of the permanence, or eternal duration, of love. Faith, being limited as to time in comparison with love, ranks beneath it for the reason of this temporary duration. With the same right I might say that the kingdom of Christ is greater upon earth than was Christ. Thereby I do not mean that the Church in itself is better and of higher rank than Christ, but merely that it covers a greater part of the earth than he compassed; for he was here but three years and those he spent in a limited sphere, whereas his kingdom has been from the beginning and is coextensive with the earth. In this sense, love is longer and broader than either faith or hope. Faith deals with God merely in the heart and in this life, whereas the relations of love both to God and the whole world are eternal. Nevertheless, as Christ is immeasurably better and higher and more precious than the Christian Church, although we behold him moving in smaller limits and as a mere individual, so is faith better, higher and more precious than love, though its duration is limited and it has God alone for its object. 35. Paul's purpose in thus extolling love is to deal a blow to false teachers and to bring to naught their boasts about faith and other gifts when love is lacking. His thought is: "If ye possess not love, which abides forever, all else whereof ye boast being perishable, ye will perish with it. While the Word of God, and spiritual gifts, are eternal, yet the external office and proclamation of the Word, and likewise the employment of gifts in their variety, shall have an end, and thus your glory and pride shall become as ashes." So, then, faith justifies through the Word and produces love. But while both Word and faith shall pass, righteousness and love, which they effect, abide forever; just as a building erected by the aid of scaffolding remains after the scaffolding has been removed. 36. Observe how small the word "love" and how easily uttered! Who would have thought to find so much precious virtue and power ascribed by Paul to this one excellence as counterpart of so much that is evil? This is, I imagine, magnifying love, painting love. It is a better discourse on virtue and vice than are the heathen writings. The model the apostle presents should justly shame the false teachers, who talk much of love but in whom not one of the virtues he mentions is found. Every quality of love named by him means false teachers buffeted and assaulted. Whenever he magnifies love and characterizes her powers, he invariably makes at the same time a thrust at those who are deficient in any of them. Well may we, then, as he describes the several features, add the comment "But you do very differently." 37. It is passing strange that teachers devoid of love should possess such gifts as Paul has mentioned here, viz., speaking with tongues, prophesying, understanding mysteries; that they should have faith, should bestow their goods and suffer themselves to be burned. For we have seen what abominations ensue where love is lacking; such individuals are proud, envious, puffed up, impatient, unstable, false, venomous, suspicious, malicious, disdainful, bitter, disinclined to service, distrustful, selfish, ambitious and haughty. How can it consistently be claimed that people of this stamp can, through faith, remove mountains, give their bodies to be burned, prophesy, and so on? It is precisely as I have stated. Paul presents an impossible proposition, implying that since they are devoid of love, they do not really possess those gifts, but merely assume the name and appearance. And in order to divest them of those he admits for the sake of argument that they are what in reality they are not. _First Sunday In Lent_ Text: Second Corinthians 6, 1-10. 1 And working together with him we entreat also that ye receive not the grace of God in vain 2 (for he saith, At an acceptable time I hearkened unto thee, and in a day of salvation did I succor thee: behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation): 3 giving no occasion of stumbling in anything, that our ministration be not blamed; 4 but in everything commending ourselves, as ministers of God, in much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, 5 in stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labors, in watchings, in fastings; 6 in pureness, in knowledge, in longsuffering, in kindness, in the Holy Spirit, in love unfeigned, 7 in the word of truth, in the power of God; by the armor of righteousness on the right hand on the left, 8 by glory and dishonor, by evil report and good report; as deceivers, and yet true; 9 as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold, we live; as chastened, and not killed; 10 as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things. AN ENTREATY TO LIVE AS CHRISTIANS. 1. This lesson is an admonition to the Corinthians calculated to stimulate them in the performance of the duties they already recognize. The words are easily enough said, but execution is difficult and practice rare. For Paul gives a strange description of the Christian life, and the color and characteristics with which he exhibits it render it decidedly unprepossessing. First he says: "And working together with him we entreat also that ye receive not the grace of God in vain." 2. He calls the Corinthians co-workers, as in First Corinthians 3, 9, where he puts it: "We are God's fellow-workers; ye are God's husbandry, God's building." That is, we labor upon you with the external Word--teaching and admonishing; but God, working inwardly through the Spirit, gives the blessing and the success. He permits not our labor with the outward Word to be in vain. Therefore, God is the true Master, performing inwardly the supreme work, while we aid outwardly, serving him through the ministry. The apostle's purpose in praising his co-laborers is to prevent them from despising the external Word as something inessential to them, or well enough known. For though God is able to effect everything without the instrumentality of the outward Word, working inwardly by his Spirit, this is by no means his purpose. He uses preachers as fellow-workers, or co-laborers, to accomplish his purpose through the Word when and where he pleases. Now, since preachers have the office, name and honor of fellow-workers with God, no one may be considered learned enough or holy enough to ignore or despise the most inferior preaching; especially since he knows not when the hour may come wherein God will, through preachers, perform his work in him. 3. Secondly, Paul shows the danger of neglecting the grace of God. He boldly declares here that the preaching of the Gospel is not an eternal, continuous and permanent mode of instruction, but rather a passing shower, which hastens on. What it strikes, it strikes; what it misses, it misses. It does not return, nor does it stand still. The sun and heat follow and dry it up. Experience shows that in no part of the world has the Gospel remained pure beyond the length of man's memory. Only so long as its pioneers lived did it stand and prosper. When they were gone, the light disappeared; factious spirits and false teachers followed immediately. Thus Moses announces (Deut 31, 29) that the children of Israel will corrupt themselves after his death; and the book of Judges testifies that so it really came to pass. Each time a judge died in whose days the Word of God obtained sway, the people fell away and became more wicked than before. King Joash did what was right so long as the high priest Jehoiada lived, but after the latter's death this had an end. And following the time of Christ and his apostles, the world was filled with seditious spirits and false teachers. Paul, in fact, declares (Acts 20, 29): "I know that after my departing grievous wolves shall enter in among you, not sparing the flock." So also we now have the pure Gospel. This is a time of grace and salvation and the acceptable day; but should the world continue, this condition, too, will soon pass. 4. To receive the grace of God in vain can be nothing else than to hear the pure word of God which presents and offers his grace, and yet to remain listless and irresponsive, undergoing no change at all. Thus, ungrateful for the Word and unworthy of it, we merit the loss of the Word. Such as these are described in the parable (Lk 14, 16-24) where the guests bidden to the supper refused to come and went about their own business, thus provoking the master's anger until he swore they should not taste his supper. Similar is Paul's threat here, that we may take heed and accept the Gospel with fear and gratitude. Christ says (Jn 12, 35), "Walk while ye have the light, that darkness overtake you not." I should think we might have learned wisdom from experience--from the darkness we suffered under the Papacy. But that is all forgotten; we show neither gratitude nor amendment of life. Very well, we shall find out the consequences. SALVATION WHEREVER THE GOSPEL IS SENT. "Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation." 5. These words portray the richness of the salvation wherever the Gospel goes: nothing but grace and help; no wrath or punishment. Indeed, these are words of unutterable meaning the apostle here employs. First, he tells us that it is an "acceptable time," as the Hebrew expresses it. Our own way of putting it would be: "This is a gracious time, a time when God turns away his wrath and is moved only by love and benevolence toward us and is pleased to do us good." All our sins are forgotten; he takes no note of the sins of the past nor of those of the present. In short, we are in a realm of mercy, where are only forgiveness and reconciliation. The heavens are now open. This is the true golden year when man is denied nothing. So Paul says, "At an acceptable time I hearkened unto thee"; that is: "I am kindly disposed toward thee. Whatsoever thou shalt even desire and ask for, thou shalt surely receive. Be not neglectful, therefore, and ask while the acceptable time continues." 6. Second, Paul declares that it is a day of blessing, "a day of salvation." It is a day of help, wherein we are not only acceptable and assured of God's favor and good will toward us, but we experience even as we have been assured--that God really does help us. He verifies his assurance, for his beneficence gives testimony that our prayers are heard. We call it a happy day, a blessed day, a day of abundance; for these two truths are inseparably related--that God is favorable toward us, and that his kindness is the proof of his favor. God's favor toward us is revealed in the first clause, which speaks of an acceptable time; that he extends help to us is revealed in the second clause, telling of a blessed day of succor. Both these facts are to be apprehended by faith and in good conscience; for a superficial judgment would lead to the view that this period of blessing is rather an accursed period of wrath and disfavor. Words like these, of spiritual meaning, must be understood in the light of the Holy Spirit; thus shall we find that these two glorious, beautiful expressions refer to the Gospel dispensation and are intended to magnify all the treasures and the riches of the kingdom of Christ. "Giving no occasion of stumbling [no offense] in anything." 7. Since this is a time of blessing, let us make right use of it, not spending it to no purpose, and let us take serious heed to give offense to none; thus avoiding reproach to our ministry. It is evident from the connection to what kind of offense the apostle has reference; he would not have the Gospel doctrine charged with teaching anything evil. 8. Two kinds of offense bring the Gospel into disgrace: In one case it is the heathen who are offended, and this because of the fact that some individuals would make the Gospel a means of freedom from temporal restraint, substituting temporal liberty for spiritual. They thus bring reproach upon the Gospel as teaching such doctrine, and make it an object of scandal to the heathen and worldly people, whereby they are misled and become enemies to the faith and to the Word of God without cause, being the harder to convert since they regard Christians as licentious knaves. And the responsibility for this must be placed at the door of those who have given offense in this respect. In the other case, Christians are offended among themselves. The occasion is the indiscreet exercise of Christian liberty, which offends the weak in faith. Concerning this topic much is said in First Corinthians 8 and Romans 14. Paul here hints at what he speaks of in First Corinthians 10, 32-33: "Give no occasion of stumbling, either to Jews, or to Greeks, or to the church of God: even as I also please all men in all things, not seeking mine own profit, but the profit of the many that they may be saved." He takes up the same subject in Philippians 2, 4, teaching that every man should look on the things of others. Then no offense will be given. "That our ministration [the ministry] be not blamed." 9. Who can prevent our office being vilified? for the Word of God must be persecuted equally with Christ himself. That the Word of God is reviled by unbelievers ignorant of faith in God is something we cannot prevent. For, according to Isaiah 8, 14 and Romans 9, 33, the Gospel is a "rock of offense." This is the offense of the faith; it will pursue its course and we are not responsible. But for love's offense, offense caused by shortcomings in our works and fruits of faith, the things we are commanded to let shine before men, that, seeing these, they may be allured to the faith--for offense in this respect we cannot disclaim responsibility. It is a sin we certainly must avoid, that the heathen, the Jews, the weak and the rulers of the world may never be able to say: "Behold the knavery and licentiousness of these people! Surely their doctrine cannot be true." Otherwise our evil name and fame and the obstacles we place before others will extend to the innocent and holy Word God has given us to apprehend and to proclaim; it must bear our shame and in addition become unfruitful in the offended ones. Grievous is such a sin as this. MARKS OF CHRISTIANS AS MINISTERS OF GOD. "But in everything commending ourselves, as ministers of God, in much patience." 10. The apostle here portrays the Christian life in its outward expression. Not that it is possible for anyone thereby to become a Christian, or godly; but, being servants of God, or Christians and godly people, we furnish in this manner, according to Paul's statement here, the evidence thereof as by fruits and signs. Mark his phrase "ministers of God." What a remarkable service for God is this wherein we must endure so much suffering, so much affliction, privation, anxiety, stripes, imprisonment, tumult or sedition, labor, watching, fasting, and so on! No mass here, no vigil, no hallucinations of a fictitious service of God; it is the true service of God, which subdues the body and mortifies the flesh. Not, indeed, as if fasting, watching and toiling are to be despised because they do not make just. Though we are not thereby justified, we must nevertheless practice those things, instead of giving rein to the flesh and indulging our idleness. 11. Paul also mentions sedition. Not that by our teaching or life we should be guilty of sedition against others; rather, we should be quiet and obedient. See Romans 13. Christ says (Mt 22, 21), "Render therefore unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's." Paul's meaning is that when we become victims of sedition on the part of others we should submit; just as we are not to inflict upon others privations, distresses, stripes or imprisonment, but rather to accept them at their hands. So Paul heads the list with patience; which does not produce sedition, but endures it. It is a consolation in these times when we are charged with raising seditions, to reflect that it is the very nature and color of the Christian life that it be criticised as seditious when the fact is it patiently bears sedition directed against itself. Thus was it with Elijah, who was accused by King Ahab of troubling Israel and exciting turbulence. 1 Kings 18, 17-18. Then, when we are charged with guilt in this respect, let us remember that not only did the apostles have to hear the same accusation, but even Christ himself, with all his innocence, was so accused. More than that, he was falsely reviled upon the cross with a superscription charging sedition; in fact, he was even put to death as a Jewish king guilty of opposition to Cæsar and of enticing and inciting the people. 12. The remaining marks of the Christian life--patience, affliction, necessities, distresses, stripes, imprisonments, labor, watching, fasting, purity, etc., are easily interpreted; it is readily seen how they are instrumental in our service to God. God will not have indolent, idle gluttons, nor sleepy and impatient servants. Most adroitly does Paul score in particular our fine idle youths who draw interest from their money, have an easy life, and imagine their tonsures, their long robes and their howling in the churches excuse them from labor. All men should labor and earn their bread, according to Paul. 2 Thes 3, 12. By labor, our text teaches, we serve God; more than that, our labor is testimony to the fact that we serve God. "In knowledge." 13. What is meant here? With Paul, knowledge signifies discretion, understanding, reason. He speaks of the Jews (Rom 10, 2) as having "a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge"; that is, a zeal without reason, without understanding, without discretion. His message here, then, is: "We should conduct ourselves in Christian affairs with becoming reason and moderation lest we give offense to the weak by a presumptuous use of Christian liberty. Rather we should, with discretion and understanding, adapt ourselves to that which promotes the neighbor's welfare. Likewise, when we labor, fast, or when we regulate our sexual relations, we are to exercise reason, lest the body should be injured by too much fasting, watching and toil, and also by needless abstention from sexual intercourse. Let everyone take heed to remain within bounds by using reason and discretion. The apostle counsels the married (1 Cor 7, 5) not to defraud each other too long, lest they be tempted. In all such matters, he would impose no measures and rules, no limits and laws, after the manner of the councils, the popes and the monks. He leaves it wholly to each individual's discretion to decide and to test for himself all questions of time and quantity bearing upon the restraints of his flesh. "In longsuffering, in kindness." 14. The meaning of these phrases has been stated in many other places, particularly in connection with Romans 2 and Galatians 5. "By the Holy Spirit." 15. What are we to understand here? The words may have one of two meanings: First, the apostle may have reference to the Holy Spirit in person, who is God. Second, he may have reference to the spirit of individuals, or their spiritual condition. "Holy Spirit" may be intended to stand for "spirituality," Paul's meaning being: "Beware of the professedly spiritual, or of things glittering and purporting to be spiritual; beware of them who make great boast of the Spirit and nevertheless betray only a false, unclean, unholy spirit, productive of sects and discord. Abide ye in that true, holy spirituality proceeding from God's Holy Spirit, who imparts unity and harmony, determination and courage." As Paul expresses it elsewhere (Eph 4, 3), "Giving diligence to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." They, then, who continue in one faith, one mind and disposition, give testimony by the reality and saintliness of their spiritual life and by the presence of the Holy Spirit that they are servants of God. For true spirituality, or a holy walk in the Spirit, means to be in heart and mind at one with the Spirit, through faith. "In love unfeigned, in the word of truth." 16. As the apostle opposes the Holy Spirit to false sects and false prophets, so he opposes unfeigned love to indolent Christians who in true faith and unity of mind possess marks of true spirituality, but are nevertheless indolent, cold, in fact false as regards love. Again, he opposes the "Word of Truth" to abusers of the Word of God, who misconstrue it and comment upon it according to their own fancy, and for their own honor and profit. While much that purports to be spiritual has not the Word as source and gives honor to the Spirit at the expense of the Word, the class under consideration profess to magnify the Word; they would be master interpreters of the Scriptures, confident that their explanations are correct and superior. In condemnation of this class, Peter says (1 Pet 4, 11), "If any man speaketh, speaking as it were oracles of God," and not his own word. In other words, let him be assured he speaks the Word of God and not his own. God's Word Paul here terms the "Word of truth"; that is, the true Word of God and not our own misconstrued, falsified word palmed off as God's Word. In our idiom we would say "the real Word" where the Hebrew has "Word of truth," or "true Word." "In the power of God." 17. Peter speaks also of this power, in the verse before mentioned: "If any man ministereth, ministering as of the strength which God supplieth." And Paul elsewhere declares (Col 1, 29): "Whereunto I labor also, striving according to his working, which worketh in me mightily"; and again (Rom 15, 18): "For I will not dare to speak of any things save those which Christ wrought through me, for the obedience of the Gentiles." Christians should have the assurance that they are the kingdom of God, and that in whatever they do, especially in undertakings of a spiritual character, which have the salvation of souls as aim, they beware of everything not absolutely known as true, so that the work be not theirs but God's. In God's kingdom God alone is to speak, reign and act. Christ says (Mt 5, 16): "Even so let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven"--may glorify him as the worker, and not yourselves. Seductive spirits, however, come cavorting in their own power, throw the pictures out of the churches and establish rules of their own, without caring whether it is done in the power of God. The consequence is that their work is neither permanent nor fruitful. THE ARMOR OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. "By the armor of righteousness." 18. This armor Paul more fully describes in Ephesians and in Thessalonians. Sufficient explanation of it has been given in the lesson for Advent. There is the "shield of faith," the "helmet of salvation," the shoes of "the preparation of the Gospel of peace," and so on. Paul includes them all under the term "armor of righteousness," and, in his epistle to the Ephesians, under the phrase "armor of God," to teach Christians to eschew and to forsake carnal, worldly weapons for these. He would have them know themselves a spiritual people, spiritually warring against the spiritual enemies enumerated here and pointed out on the right hand and on the left. 19. On the left hand he places dishonor and evil report, in that we appear to men as deceivers, unknown, in conflict with death, chastened, sorrowful, poor and needy. Scorn is hurled in our faces and the reputation accorded us is that of deceivers. The Christian must not only be unknown, friendless and a stranger, but men will also be ashamed of him--even his best friends--in consequence of the reproach and evil report under which he lies in the eyes of the great, the wealthy, the wise and the powerful of the world. He must be as one dying--continually expecting death by reason of the hatred and envy directed against him, and the various persecutions he suffers. He must be beaten and scourged; must at times feel the weight of the enmity and envy wherewith the world inflicts torment. He is like the sorrowful, for so ill does he fare in the world, he has reason to sorrow. He resembles the poor in that nothing is given him but injuries; he possesses nothing, for if he has not been deprived of all his possessions he daily expects that extremity. Lest he despair of his hope in God and grow faint, he must be armed on the left hand against these enemies with a divine armor: with a firm faith, with the comfort of the divine Word, with hope, so that he may endure and exercise patience. Thereby he proves himself to be a true servant of God, inasmuch as false teachers and hypocrites, with all their pompous worship, are incapable of these things. 20. On the right he places honor and good report, inasmuch as we are after all true, well known, alive, defiant of death, full of joy, rich, possessing all things. The Christian will have always a few to honor and commend him; some there will be to give him a good report, to praise him as true and honest in doctrine. And there will be some who receive and acknowledge him, who are not ashamed of him. Life remains in spite of death oft faced, even in scourgings. He rejoices when things with him are at the worst, for his heart remains joyful in God, that joy finding expression in words, deeds and manner. Though poor in the goods of the world, he does not die of hunger, and he makes many spiritually rich through the Word. Even though he have no possessions at all, he suffers no lack but has in hand all things; for all creatures must serve the believer. As Christ promised (Mk 9, 23), "All things are possible to him that believeth." For himself, it is true, he possesses nothing, and gladly he endures his need; but for his neighbor's sake he can do all things, and all he has he is ready to place at the disposal of his neighbor whenever need requires. These blessings also give occasion for a powerful armor, for we must guard against pride and haughtiness. 21. Thus the Christian is quite untrammeled. His eyes are fixed upon God alone. Always choosing the safe middle path he steers clear of danger on the right and on the left. He permits not the evil to overthrow him nor the good to exalt, but makes use of both to the honor of God and the benefit of his neighbor. This, Paul instructs us, should be the manner of our life now while the season of grace continues; nor must we fail to heed this! This is the true service of God, the service well pleasing to him; unto which may God help us. Amen. _Second Sunday In Lent_ Text: First Thessalonians 4, 1-7. 1 Finally then, brethren, we beseech and exhort you in the Lord Jesus, that, as ye received of us how ye ought to walk and to please God, even as ye do walk,--that ye abound more and more. 2 For ye know what charge we gave you through the Lord Jesus. 3 For this is the will of God, even your sanctification, that ye abstain from fornication; 4 that each one of you know how to possess himself of his own vessel in sanctification and honor, 5 not in the passion of lust, even as the Gentiles who know not God; 6 that no man transgress, and wrong his brother in the matter: because the Lord is an avenger in all these things, as also we forewarned you and testified. 7 For God called us not for uncleanness, but in sanctification. EXHORTATION TO HOLINESS. 1. This lesson is easy of interpretation. It is a general and earnest admonition on the part of Paul, enjoining us to an increasing degree of perfection in the doctrine we have received. This admonition, this exhortation, is one incumbent upon an evangelical teacher to give, for he is urging us to observe a doctrine commanded of God. He says, "For ye know what charge [commandments] we gave you through the Lord Jesus." Whatever Christians do, it should be willing service, not compulsory; but when a command is given, it should be in the form of exhortation or entreaty. Those who have received the Spirit are they from whom obedience is due; but those not inclined to a willing performance, we should leave to themselves. 2. But mark you this: Paul places much value upon the gift bestowed upon us, the gift of knowing how we are "to walk and to please God." In the world this gift is as great as it is rare. Though the offer is made to the whole world and publicly proclaimed, further exhortation is indispensable, and Paul is painstaking and diligent in administering it. The trouble is, we are in danger of becoming indolent and negligent, forgetful and ungrateful--vices menacing and great, and which, alas, are altogether too frequent. Let us look back and note to what depths of darkness, of delusion and abomination, we had sunk when we knew not how we ought to walk, how to please God. Alas, we have forgotten all about it; we have become indolent and ungrateful, and are dealt with accordingly. Well does the apostle say in the lesson for the Sunday preceding this (2 Cor 6, 1): "And working together with him we entreat also that ye receive not the grace of God in vain, for he saith, At an acceptable time I hearkened unto thee, and in a day of salvation did I succor thee." 3. In our present lesson he treats chiefly of two vices: unchastity, which is a sin against oneself and destructive of the fruits of faith; and fraud in business, which is a sin against the neighbor and likewise destructive of faith and charity. Paul would have every man keep himself chaste and free from wrong against every man, pronouncing the wrath of God on offenses of this character. 4. It was a fact reflecting much credit and honor on the Thessalonians in contrast to the Corinthians and the Galatians, that they continued upright in doctrine and true in the knowledge of the faith, though perhaps deficient in the above-mentioned two self-evident features of Christian life. While it is true that if sins of immorality are not renounced God will punish, yet punishment in such cases is for the most part temporal, these sins being less pernicious than such gross offenses as error in faith and doctrine. 5. Paul, however, threatens such sins with the wrath of God, lest anyone become remiss and indolent, imagining the kingdom of Christ a kingdom to tolerate with impunity such offenses. As Paul expresses it, "God called us not for uncleanness, but in sanctification [holiness]." The thought is: Unchastity does not come within the limits of Christian liberty and privilege, nor does God treat the offender with indulgence and impunity. No, indeed. In fact, he will more rigorously punish this sin among Christians than among heathen. Paul tells us (1 Cor 11, 30) that many were sickly and many had succumbed to the sleep of death in consequence of eating and drinking unworthily. And Psalm 89, 32 testifies, "Then will I visit their transgression with the rod." 6. True, they who sin through infirmity, who, conscious of their transgressions, suffer themselves to be reproved, repenting at once--for these the kingdom of Christ has ready pity and forbearance, commending them to acceptance and toleration (Rom 15; Gal 6, 1; 1 Cor 13, 7); but that such vices be regarded generally lawful and normal--this will not do! Paul declares, "This is the will of God, even your sanctification." And he speaks of "how ye ought to ... please God." His thought is: Some consider these sins a matter of little moment, treat them as if the wind blew them away and God rather had pleasure in them as trivial affairs. But this is not true. While God really bears with the fallen sinner, he would have us perceive our errors and strive to mend our lives and to abound more and more in righteousness. His grace is not intended to cloak our shame, nor should the licentious abuse the kingdom of Christ as a shield for their knavery. Paul commands (Gal 5, 13), "Use not your freedom for an occasion to the flesh"; and Peter (1 Pet 2, 16), "As free, and not using your freedom for a cloak of wickedness, but as bondservants of God." 7. Paul, following the Hebrew way of speaking, has reference to chastity where he says "your sanctification." He terms the body "holy" when it is chaste, chastity being, in God's sight, equivalent to holiness. "Holiness," in the Old Testament, is a synonym for "purity." Again, "holiness" and "purity" are regarded as the same thing in First Corinthians 7, 14: "Else were your children unclean; but now are they holy." 8. The nature of the holiness and purity whereof he speaks he makes plain himself in the words: "That ye abstain from fornication; that each one of you know how to possess himself of his own vessel in sanctification and honor." The apostle does not here prohibit matrimony, but licentiousness, and unchastity outside the marriage state. He who is careful to keep his vessel--his body--chaste, who does not commit adultery and is not guilty of whoredom--this man preserves his body in holiness and purity, and properly is called chaste and holy. The same thought is borne out in the succeeding verse: "Not in the passion of lust [in the lust of concupiscence], even as the Gentiles." 9. The Gentiles, who know not God, give themselves up to all manner of uncleanness, or disgraceful vices, as Paul records in Romans 1, 29-31. Not that all gentiles are guilty in that respect. Paul is not saying what all heathen do; he merely states that with the gentiles such conduct is apparent, and quite to be expected from people "who know not God." Under such conditions, one allows the sin to pass unreproved, as does Paul himself. Notwithstanding he censures them who consent to sin of this character when knowing better, and who do not restrain the evil-doers. Rom 1, 32. But in the case of Christians, when any fall into such sin they are to be reproved and the sin resisted; the offense must not be allowed to pass as with the gentiles. In the case of the latter the lust of concupiscence holds sway; no restraints are exercised and the reins are given to lust, so that its nature and passion are given free expression, just as if this were a provision of nature, when the fact is it is a pest to be healed, a blemish to be removed. But there is none to heal and deliver, so the gentiles decay and go to ruin through evil lust. "Lust of concupiscence" would be, with us, "evil lust." The conclusion is simple: "That no man transgress and wrong his brother in the matter." 10. In other words, that no one take for himself what belongs to another, or use the property of another for his own benefit, which may be done by a variety of tricks. To "defraud in any matter" is to seek gain at the expense of a neighbor. On this latter subject much has been written elsewhere, particularly in the little treatise on Merchants and Usury, showing the great extent to which extortion is practiced and how charity is rarely observed. It is on this topic that Paul here would fix our attention. _Third Sunday In Lent_ Text: Ephesians 5, 1-9. 1 Be ye therefore imitators of God, as beloved children; 2 and walk in love, even as Christ also loved you, and gave himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for an odor of a sweet smell. 3 But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not even be named among you, as becometh saints; 4 nor filthiness, nor foolish talking, or jesting, which are not befitting: but rather giving of thanks. 5 For this ye know of a surety, that no fornicator, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God. 6 Let no man deceive you with empty words: for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the sons of disobedience. 7 Be not ye therefore partakers with them; 8 for ye were once darkness, but are now light in the Lord: walk as children of light 9 (for the fruit of the light is in all goodness and righteousness and truth). EXHORTATION TO BE IMITATORS OF GOD. 1. This is a letter of admonition, instructing Christians, according to the plan underlying Paul's epistles, not to become sluggish and careless, but by their deeds to evince their faith, and honor and proclaim the Word he has taught them; for the sake of the gentiles and unbelievers, that these may not take offense at the doctrine of Christ. 2. To begin with, having shown that we were made children of God through Christ, he admonishes us to be followers, or imitators, of the Father, as beloved children. He employs the most endearing of terms--"beloved children"--to persuade us by the Father's love to love even as we are loved. But what manner of love has God manifested toward us? It was not simply that love manifest in the fact that he gives temporal support to us unworthy beings in common with all the wicked on earth; that he permits his sun to rise on the just and on the unjust and sends rain on the grateful and on the ungrateful, as Christ mentions (Mt 5, 45) in connection with his command to be perfect even as our Father in heaven is perfect. Not only thus did God love us, but in a special way: he has given his Son for us. In addition to showering upon us both temporal and eternal blessings he has given his own self; he has completely poured out himself for us, with all he is, with all he has, with all he does,--and we were nothing but sinners, unworthy creatures, enemies and servants of the devil. More than this would be beyond even his grace and power. He who despises such glow of love, which fills all heaven and earth and is beyond all power to comprehend it; who does not permit this love to kindle and incite in him love for his neighbor whether enemy or friend--such a one is not likely ever to become godly or loving by such measures as laws or commandments, instruction, constraint or compulsion. 3. "Walk in love," counsels the apostle. He would have our external life all love. But not the world's love is to be our pattern, which seeks only its own advantage, and loves only so long as it is the gainer thereby; we must love even as Christ loved, who sought neither pleasure nor gain from us but gave himself for us, not to mention the other blessings he bestows daily--gave himself as a sacrifice and offering to reconcile God unto ourselves, so that he should be our God and we his children. Thus likewise should we give, thus should we lend, or even surrender our goods, no matter whether friends claim them or enemies. Nor are we to stop there; we must be ready to give our lives for both friends and enemies, and must be occupied with no other thought than how we can serve others, and how both our life and property can be made to minister to them in this life, and this because we know that Christ is ours and has given us all things. "To God for an odor of a sweet smell [for a sweet-smelling savor]." 4. This expression Paul takes from the Old Testament. There the temporal sacrifices are described as being "a sweet-smelling savor" unto God: that is, they were acceptable and well-pleasing to him; but not, as the Jews imagined, because of the value of the work or of the sacrifices in themselves. For such thoughts they were chastised by the prophets often enough. They were acceptable on the ground of the true sacrifice which they foreshadowed and encircled. Paul's thought is this: The sacrifices of the Old Testament have passed. Now all sacrifices are powerless but that of Christ himself; he is the sweet-smelling savor. This sacrifice is pleasing to God. He gladly accepts it and would have us be confident it is an acceptable offering in our stead. Moreover, there is no other sacrifice the Christian Church can offer for us. The once-offered Christ alone avails. Although, following his example, we present our bodies a sacrifice, as taught in Romans 12, 1, yet we do not do so in behalf of ourselves or others; that is the function of the one sacrifice alone--Christ. Therefore, all sacrifices offered in the mistaken notion that they avail for us, or even secure forgiveness of sin, are wicked and unsavory. But more of this elsewhere. SINS NOT TO BE NAMED AMONG CHRISTIANS. "But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not even be named among you, as becometh saints." 5. In naming uncleanness in addition to fornication, the reference is to all sensual affections in distinction from wedded love. They are too unsavory for him to mention by name, though in Romans 1, 24 he finds it expedient to speak of them without disguise. However, also wedded love must be characterized by moderation among Christians. While there is a conjugal duty to be required by necessity, it is for the very purpose of avoiding unchastity and uncleanness. The ideal and perfect condition, it is true, would be cohabitation with a sole view to procreation; however, that is too high for attainment by all. 6. Paul declares that the sin he indicates should not be named of the Ephesians. Unquestionably, among Christians there will always be some infirm one to fall; but we must labor diligently, correcting, amending and restraining. We must not suffer the offense to go unchallenged, but curtail and remedy it, lest, as remarked in the preceding lesson, the heathen stumble, saying: "Christians tolerate such vices among themselves; their conduct is not different from our own." An occasional fall among Christians must be borne with so long as right prevails in general, and such things are neither tolerated nor taught, but reproved and amended. Paul gives the counsel (Gal 6, 1) that the brethren restore the fallen in a spirit of meekness; and he blames the Corinthians for not reproving them who sin. 1 Cor 5, 2. A sin, once punished, is as if the sin did not exist; it is no longer a matter of reproach. 7. Likewise with covetousness: we are to understand that it is not to be named of Christians. That is, should one be covetous, should one defraud another or contend with him about temporal advantage, as evidently was true of the Corinthians (1 Cor 6, 1), the offense must not be suffered to go unreproved and uncorrected. The Gospel must be carefully upheld and preserved among the multitude, "that our ministration be not blamed." 2 Cor 6, 3. I make this point for the sake of those who, so soon as they observe that all Christians are not perfectly holy, but will occasionally stumble and fall, imagine there is no such thing as a Christian and the Gospel is impotent and fruitless. Just as if to be a Christian meant the mountain already climbed and complete, triumphant victory over sin! The fact is, it is rather a contest, a battle. Wherever there is a contest, or a battle, some of the combatants will flee, some will be wounded, some will fall and some even be slain. For warfare is not unaccompanied by disaster if it be real warfare. 8. The writer of the epistle goes on to assign the reason why it does not sound well to hear such things concerning Christians--because they are saints and it behooves saints to be chaste and moderate, and to practice and teach these virtues. Note, he calls Christians "saints," notwithstanding that in this life they are clothed with sinful flesh and blood. Doubtless the term is not applied in consequence of their good works, but because of the holy blood of Christ. For Paul says (1 Cor 6, 11): "But ye were washed, but ye were sanctified, but ye were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and in the Spirit of our God." Being holy, we should manifest our holiness by our deeds. Though we are still weak, yet we ought duly to strive to become chaste and free from covetousness, to the glory and honor of God and the edifying of unbelievers. "Nor filthiness, nor foolish talking, or jesting, which are not befitting." 9. "Filthiness"--scandalous talk--is unchaste language suggestive of fornication, uncleanness and carnal sins. It is common in taverns and generally found as accompaniment of gluttony, drunkenness and gambling. Especially were the Greeks frivolous and adepts in this respect, as their poets and other writers attest. What Paul refers to in particular is the lewd conversation uttered in public without fear and self-restraint. This will excite wicked thoughts and give rise to serious offenses, especially with the young. As he states elsewhere (1 Cor 15, 33), "Evil companionships [communications] corrupt good morals." Should there be any Christians forgetful enough to so transgress, the offense must be reproved; otherwise it will become general and give the congregation an ill repute, as if Christians taught and tolerated it the same as the heathen. FOOLISH TALKING AND JESTING. 10. By "foolish talking" is indicated the fables and tales and other lore in which the Greeks particularly abound--a people who possess a special faculty for fiction of this sort. Similar are the tales commonly related by our women and maidens while spinning at the distaff, also those which knaves are fond of relating. Here belong also worldly songs which either relate lewd matters or turn upon slippery, frivolous themes. Such are "The Priest of Kalenburg," "Dietrich of Berne" and innumerable others. 11. Particularly unchristian is every kind of such buffoonery in the church when men are gathered to hear and learn the Word of God. But the practice is common where many come together. Even where at first things of a serious nature are discussed, men soon pass to frivolous, wanton, foolish talk, resulting in a waste of time and the neglect of better things. For instance, on the festival of Easter, foolish, ridiculous stories have been introduced into the sermon to arouse the drowsy. And at the Christmas services, the absurd pantomime of rocking a babe, and silly declamations in rhyme, have found vogue. Similarly the festivals commemorating the three holy kings, the passion of Christ, Dorothy and other saints were characterized. 12. In this category should also be classed the legends of the saints and the confused mass of lies concerning miracles, pilgrimages, masses, worship of saints, indulgencies, and so on, which once dominated the pulpit. Yet these falsehoods are too gross to be called merely foolish. They are not just frivolous lies merely destructive of good morals, such as Paul refers to here, but they completely overthrow faith and the Word of God, making sainthood impossible. Such kind of jesting is altogether too serious. Those, however, who have seen into them treat them as lies of the same frivolous and abominable character as the fables or old women's tales mentioned by Paul 1 Tim 4, 7. But while the latter are mere human tales which nobody believes, which no one will place reliance on, serving as mere occasion of merriment, without becoming a source of general moral corruption, an obstacle to improvement and a cause of cold, indolent Christianity, the falsehoods of the pulpit are diabolical tales held as truth in all seriousness, but a comedy for the devil and his angels. 13. "Jesting" has reference to those conversational expedients which pander to gaiety in the form of scandal; they are called among us banter and badinage. Laughter, mirth and gaiety is their purpose, and we meet with them generally in society and high life. Among the heathen, jesting was counted a virtue, and therefore received the title "eutrapelia" by Aristotle. But Paul calls it a vice among Christians, who certainly may find conversational expedients of a different kind, such as will inspire a cheerful and joyous spirit in Christ. True, Christians are not all so pure but that some may err in this matter; but the Christian Church does not command jesting, nor suffer any member to abandon himself to the practice. It reproves and prohibits it, particularly in religious assemblies, and in teaching and preaching. For Christ says (Mt 12, 36) that at the last day men must give account of every idle, unprofitable word they have spoken. Christians should be a very firm, though courteous, people. Courtesy should be coupled with seriousness, and seriousness with courtesy, according to the pattern of the life of Christ supplied in the Gospel. "Which are not befitting." 14. Paul apparently would include in the catalog all unprofitable language of whatever name. I would call those words unprofitable which serve not to further the faith nor to supply the wants of the body and preserve it. We have enough else to talk about during this short lifetime, if we desire to speak, enough that is profitable and pleasant, if we talk only of Christ, of love and of other essential things. The apostle mentions the giving of thanks. It should be our daily and constant employment to praise and thank God, privately and publicly, for the great and inexpressible treasures he has given us in Christ. But it appears that what is needful is relegated to the rear, while objects of indifference are brought to the fore. Now, mark you, if Paul will not tolerate banter and suggestive conversation among Christians, what would he say of the shameful backbiting which is heard whenever people meet, though but two individuals? Yes, what would be his judgment of those who in public preaching clinch and claw, attack and calumniate each other? FRUITLESS CHRISTIANS ARE HEATHEN. "For this ye know of a surety, that no fornicator, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God." 15. Hereby he declares in dry words that the man who does not exhibit the fruits of faith is a heathen under the name of a Christian. Here is absolute condemnation in a word. The whoremonger is a denier of the faith; the unclean person is a denier of the faith; the covetous individual is a denier of the faith: all are rebellious, perjured and faithless toward God. Paul tells Timothy (1 Tim 5, 8): "But if any provideth not for his own, and specially his own household, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an unbeliever." How could he utter anything more severe, more terrifying? He begins, "For this ye know." In other words: Doubt not; do not find vain comfort in the thought that this is a jest or an aspersion. A Christian name, and association with Christians, will count for nothing. It will profit you as little as it profits the Jews to be Abraham's seed and disciples of Moses. Christ's words (Mt 7, 21) concern every man: "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven." There must be performance; faith must be manifested by works. 16. If the great fire of divine love which he uses as his first argument will not draw us, then may the terrible threat of hell fire prove a sufficient incentive. In other words, if men follow not God, walking in love and showing their faith by their deeds, let them know they are not God's children, not heirs in his kingdom, and therefore are unquestionably heirs of the evil one in hell. He who is unmoved by the threats of hell fire must truly be a stick or a stone; indeed, he must have a heart like an anvil, as Job says. 17. The writer of the epistle passes unusually severe sentence upon the covetous man, for he calls him an idolater, or a worshiper of a false God. Plainly, Paul entertained special enmity against the covetous, for in Colossians 3, 5 he defines this sin in a similar manner. His reasoning, I judge, is this: All other sinners turn to use what they have and make it subservient to their lusts. Fornicators and the unclean make their bodies serve their pleasure. The haughty employ property, art, reputation and men to secure honor to themselves. The unhappy idolater alone is servant to his possessions; his sin is to save, guard and preserve property. He dare not make use of it either for himself or for others, but worships it as his god. Rather than touch his money, he would suffer both the kingdom of God and of the world to perish. He will not give a farthing to the support of a preacher or a schoolmaster for the sake of advancing God's kingdom. Because he places his confidence, his trust, in his money rather than in the living God, whose promises concerning ample support are abundant, his real God is his money, and to call him an idolater is entirely just. And, in addition, he must renounce heaven! A shameful vice, indeed! O contemptible Unbelief! what a dangerous vice art thou! DECEPTION BY EMPTY WORDS. "Let no man deceive you with empty words." 18. This applies to those who gloss their unchastity over, as if it were but a trivial sin. And some have been even such vulgar teachers as to consider no unchastity evil except adultery, and to accept it as a normal function, like eating and drinking. The Greek philosophers and poets were of this class. And Terence says, "It is neither a sin nor a shame for a youth to commit fornication." To obey such doctrine would be to know nothing of God and to live in the lust of concupiscence, like the gentiles who know not God, of whom we heard in the preceding lesson. All arguments of this character are vain words; they may fascinate the reason after a fashion; yet they are vain and futile, unable to profit their authors. Covetousness likewise has much false show and glitter. When one defrauds another or seeks his own advantage to the injury of others, his act is not at all called sin, but cleverness, economy and sagacity, though meanwhile the poor must suffer want and even die of hunger. Such arguments are merely the specious and blind utterances of heathen, contrary to Christian love. 19. But we have additional light upon this subject, showing that because of such practices the wrath of God comes upon the unbelieving. In First Corinthians 10, 18 are cited numerous examples of punishment for the sin of fornication. See also Num 25. Again, because of wantonness, covetousness and unchastity, the entire world was destroyed by the flood. This is a severe utterance but true and indubitable. "For because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the sons of disobedience." "Sons of disobedience"--in other words, they who have fallen from the faith. Thus we see that he who does not show his faith by his deeds, is accounted practically an infidel. In fact, he is worse than an infidel; he is an apostate Christian, or an apostate from the faith. Therefore comes the wrath of God upon such, even here on earth. This is why we Germans must suffer so much famine, pestilence, war and bloodshed to come upon us. 20. Among these idle chatterers and misleading teachers the sluggards and drones should beware of being classified, who, with better light than the heathen, know full well that covetousness and unchastity are sin. While they teach nothing to controvert this, they notwithstanding trust for salvation in a faith barren of works, on the ground that works cannot effect salvation. They know full well that a faith barren of works is nothing, is a false faith; that fruit and good works must follow a genuine faith of necessity. Nevertheless they go on in carnal security, without fear of the wrath and judgment of God, who wants the old Adam to be crucified, and to find good fruit on good trees. It is possible that St. Paul does not refer in this passage to those who, like the heathen, teach and maintain by specious arguments that unchastity is no sin; nevertheless there is reason to apprehend that the reward of the heathen will be meted out to them likewise; for they live like the heathen, being strangers to both chastity and kindness. And our apprehension is so much more justified because they have a better knowledge of the wrong they commit. This is Paul's standpoint when he asks (Rom 2, 3): "And reckonest thou this, O man, who judgest them that practice such things, and doest the same, that thou shalt escape the judgment of God?" "After thy hardness and impenitent heart," he adds, thou "treasurest up for thyself wrath." "Be not ye therefore partakers with them; for ye were once darkness, but are now light in the Lord." 21. Peter similarly counsels (1 Pet 4, 3) to let the time past of our lives suffice us to have wrought the will of the gentiles, and no longer be partakers with them, but live the rest of our time to the will of God. While we were gentiles we knew not that all those things were sin, because of the darkness of unbelief, which prevented our knowing God. But now we have become a light in the Lord. That is, we have been so amply enlightened through Christ that we not only know God and what he desires, and understand what sin and wrong are, but we are also able to light others, to teach them what we know. Paul commends the Philippians for being a light in the world, among an evil and untoward generation. Phil 2, 15. And, similarly, when we were gentiles we not only were darkened, not only were ignorant and went astray, but we were darkness itself, leading others into the same condition by our words and deeds. We have reason, then, to be thankful unto him who has called us out of darkness into his marvelous light (1 Pet 2, 9), and to "walk as children of light." "For the fruit of the light [Spirit] is in all goodness and righteousness and truth." 22. Since Paul is speaking of light, it would have been more to the point had he said "fruit of the light," in accordance with the Latin version, than "fruit of the Spirit," the Greek rendering. And who knows but it may, in the Greek, have been altered to harmonize with Galatians 5, 22, where Paul speaks of the "fruit of the Spirit"? It matters little, however; evidently "Spirit" and "light" are synonymous in this place. "Goodness" is the fruit of light, or of the Spirit, as opposed to covetousness. The Christian is to be good; that is, useful, gladly working his neighbor's good. "Righteousness," as fruit of the Spirit among men--for the Spirit also is righteous before God--is opposed to covetousness. The Christian must not take another's possessions by force, trickery or fraud, but must give to each his due, his own, even to the heathen authorities. See Rom 13, 1. "Truth" is the fruit of the Spirit as opposed to hypocrisy and lies. A Christian is not only to be truthful in word, but honest in life. He should not bear the name without the works; he cannot be a Christian and yet live a heathenish life, a life of unchastity, covetousness and other vices. _Fourth Sunday In Lent_ Text: Galatians 4, 21-31. 21 Tell me, ye that desire to be under the law, do ye not hear the law? 22 For it is written, that Abraham had two sons, one by the handmaid, and one by the freewomen. 23 Howbeit the son by the handmaid is born after the flesh; but the son by the freewoman is born through promise. 24 Which things contain an allegory: for these women are two covenants; one from mount Sinai, bearing children unto bondage, which is Hagar. 25 Now this Hagar is mount Sinai in Arabia, and answereth to the Jerusalem that now is: for she is in bondage with her children. 26 But the Jerusalem that is above is free, which is our mother. 27 For it is written, Rejoice, thou barren that bearest not; Break forth and cry, thou that travailest not: For more are the children of the desolate than of her that hath the husband. 28 Now we, brethren, as Isaac was, are children of promise. 29 But as then he that was born after the flesh persecuted him that was born after the Spirit, so also it is now. 30 Howbeit what saith the scripture? Cast out the handmaid and her son; for the son of the handmaid shall not inherit with the son of the freewoman. 31 Wherefore, brethren, we are not children of a handmaid, but of the freewoman. THE CHILDREN OF PROMISE. This lesson is amply expounded in my commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians. It is unnecessary to repeat the exposition here, for it may be found and read there. He who desires further information on the subject may read the postils on the epistle lesson for the Sunday after Christmas and that for New Year's Day. There he will find all information. Thus will be obviated the necessity of repeating the discourse in various places. _Fifth Sunday In Lent_ Text: Hebrews 9, 11-15. 11 But Christ having come a high priest of the good things to come, through the greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this creation, 12 nor yet through the blood of goats and calves, but through his own blood, entered in once for all into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption. 13 For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling them that have been defiled, sanctify unto the cleanness of the flesh: 14 how much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish unto God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God? 15 And for this cause he is the mediator of a new covenant, that a death having taken place for the redemption of the transgressions that were under the first covenant, they that have been called may receive the promise of the eternal inheritance. CHRIST OUR GREAT HIGH PRIEST. 1. An understanding of practically all of the Epistle to the Hebrews is necessary before we can hope to make this text clear to ourselves. Briefly, the epistle treats of a two-fold priesthood. The former priesthood was a material one, with material adornment, tabernacle, sacrifices and with pardon couched in ritual; material were all its appointments. The new order is a spiritual priesthood, with spiritual adornments, spiritual tabernacle and sacrifices--spiritual in all that pertains to it. Christ, in the exercise of his priestly office, in the sacrifice on the cross, was not adorned with silk and gold and precious stones, but with divine love, wisdom, patience, obedience and all virtues. His adornment was apparent to none but God and possessors of the Spirit, for it was spiritual. 2. Christ sacrificed not goats nor calves nor birds; not bread; not blood nor flesh, as did Aaron and his posterity: he offered his own body and blood, and the manner of the sacrifice was spiritual; for it took place through the Holy Spirit, as here stated. Though the body and blood of Christ were visible the same as any other material object, the fact that he offered them as a sacrifice was not apparent. It was not a visible sacrifice, as in the case of offerings at the hands of Aaron. Then the goat or calf, the flesh and blood, were material sacrifices visibly offered, and recognized as sacrifices. But Christ offered himself in the heart before God. His sacrifice was perceptible to no mortal. Therefore, his bodily flesh and blood becomes a spiritual sacrifice. Similarly, we Christians, the posterity of Christ our Aaron, offer up our own bodies. Rom 12, 1. And our offering is likewise a spiritual sacrifice, or, as Paul has it, a "reasonable service"; for we make it in spirit, and it is beheld of God alone. 3. Again, in the new order, the tabernacle or house is spiritual; for it is heaven, or the presence of God. Christ hung upon a cross; he was not offered in a temple. He was offered before the eyes of God, and there he still abides. The cross is an altar in a spiritual sense. The material cross was indeed visible, but none knew it as Christ's altar. Again, his prayer, his sprinkled blood, his burnt incense, were all spiritual, for it was all wrought through his spirit. 4. Accordingly, the fruit and blessing of his office and sacrifice, the forgiveness of our sins and our justification, are likewise spiritual. In the Old Covenant, the priest with his sacrifices and sprinklings of blood effected merely as it were an external absolution, or pardon, corresponding to the childhood stage of the people. The recipient was permitted to move publicly among the people; he was externally holy and as one restored from excommunication. He who failed to obtain absolution from the priest was unholy, being denied membership in the congregation and enjoyment of its privileges; in all respects he was separated like those in the ban today. 5. But such absolution rendered no one inwardly holy and just before God. Something beyond that was necessary to secure true forgiveness. It was the same principle which governs church discipline today. He who has received no more than the remission, or absolution, of the ecclesiastical judge will surely remain forever out of heaven. On the other hand, he who is in the ban of the Church is hellward bound only when the sentence is confirmed at a higher tribunal. I can make no better comparison than to say that it was the same in the old Jewish priesthood as now in the Papal priesthood, which, with its loosing and binding, can prohibit or permit only external communion among Christians. It is true, God required such measures in the time of the Jewish dispensation, that he might restrain by fear; just as now he sanctions church discipline when rightly employed, in order to punish and restrain the evil-doer, though it has no power in itself to raise people to holiness or to push them into wickedness. 6. But with the priesthood of Christ is true spiritual remission, sanctification and absolution. These avail before God--God grant that it be true of us--whether we be outwardly excommunicated, or holy, or not. Christ's blood has obtained for us pardon forever acceptable with God. God will forgive our sins for the sake of that blood so long as its power shall last and its intercession for grace in our behalf, which is forever. Therefore, we are forever holy and blessed before God. This is the substance of the text. Now that we shall find it easy to understand, we will briefly consider it. "But Christ having come a high priest of the good things to come." 7. The adornment of Aaron and his descendants, the high priests, was of a material nature, and they obtained for the people a merely formal remission of sins, performing their office in a perishable temple, or tabernacle. It was evident to men that their absolution and sanctification before the congregation was a temporal blessing confined to the present. But when Christ came upon the cross no one beheld him as he went before God in the Holy Spirit, adorned with every grace and virtue, a true High Priest. The blessings wrought by him are not temporal--a merely formal pardon--but the "blessings to come"; namely, blessings which are spiritual and eternal. Paul speaks of them as blessings to come, not that we are to await the life to come before we can have forgiveness and all the blessings of divine grace, but because now we possess them only in faith. They are as yet hidden, to be revealed in the future life. Again, the blessings we have in Christ were, from the standpoint of the Old Testament priesthood, blessings to come. "Through the greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this creation." 8. The apostle does not name the tabernacle he mentions; nor can he, so strange its nature! It exists only in the sight of God, and is ours in faith, to be revealed hereafter. It is not made with hands, like the Jewish tabernacle; in other words, not of "this building." The old tabernacle, like all buildings of its nature, necessarily was made of wood and other temporal materials created by God. God says in Isaiah 66, 1-2: "What manner of house will ye build unto me?... For all these things hath my hand made, and so all these things came to be." But that greater tabernacle has not yet form; it is not yet finished. God is building it and he shall reveal it. Christ's words are (Jn 14, 3), "And if I go and prepare a place for you." "Nor yet through the blood of goats and calves, but through his own blood, entered in once for all into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption." 9. According to Leviticus 16, the high priest must once a year enter into the holy place with the blood of rams and other offerings, and with these make formal reconciliation for the people. This ceremony typified that Christ, the true Priest, should once die for us, to obtain for us the true atonement. But the former sacrifice, having to be repeated every year, was but a temporary and imperfect atonement; it did not eternally suffice, as does the atonement of Christ. For though we fall and sin repeatedly, we have confidence that the blood of Christ does not fall, or sin; it remains steadfast before God, and the expiation is perpetual and eternal. Under its sway grace is perpetually renewed, without work or merit on our part, provided we do not stand aloof in unbelief. "For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the ashes of a heifer," etc. 10. Concerning the water of separation and the ashes of the red heifer, read Numbers 19; and concerning the blood of bulls and goats, Leviticus 16, 14-15. According to Paul, these were formal and temporal purifications, as I stated above. But Christ, in God's sight, purifies the conscience of dead works; that is, of sins meriting death, and of works performed in sin and therefore dead. Christ purifies from these, that we may serve the living God by living works. "And for this cause he is the mediator of a new covenant [testament]," etc. 11. Under the old law, which provided only for formal, or ritualistic, pardon, and restored to human fellowship, sin and transgressions remained, burdening the conscience. It--the old law--did not benefit the soul at all, inasmuch as God did not institute it to purify and safeguard the conscience, nor to bestow the Spirit. It existed merely for the purpose of outward discipline, restraint and correction. So Paul teaches that under the Old Testament dispensation man's transgressions remained, but now Christ is our Mediator through his blood; by it our conscience is freed from sin in the sight of God, inasmuch as God promises the Spirit through the blood of Christ. All, however, do not receive him. Only those called to be heirs eternal, the elect, receive the Spirit. 12. We find, then, in this excellent lesson, the comforting doctrine taught that Christ is he whom we should know as the Priest and Bishop of our souls; that no sin is forgiven, nor the Holy Spirit given, by reason of works or merit on our part, but alone through the blood of Christ, and that to those for whom God has ordained it. This matter has been sufficiently set forth in the various postils. _Palm Sunday_ Text: Philippians 2, 5-11. 5 Have this mind in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: 6 who, existing in the form of God, counted not the being on an equality with God a thing to be grasped, 7 but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men; 8 and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, becoming obedient even unto death, yea, the death of the cross. 9 Wherefore also God highly exalted him, and gave unto him the name which is above every name; 10 that in the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven and things on earth and things under the earth, 11 and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. CHRIST AN EXAMPLE OF LOVE. 1. Here Paul again presents to us as a powerful example of the celestial and eternal fire, the love of Christ, for the purpose of persuading us to exercise a loving concern for one another. The apostle employs fine words and precious admonitions, having perceived the indolence and negligence displayed by Christians in this matter of loving. For this the flesh is responsible. The flesh continually resists the willing spirit, seeking its own interest and causing sects and factions. Although a sermon on this same text went forth in my name a few years ago, entitled "The Twofold Righteousness," the text was not exhausted; therefore we will now examine it word by word. "Have this mind in you, which was also in Christ Jesus." 2. You are Christians; you have Christ, and in him and through him all fullness of comfort for time and eternity: therefore nothing should appeal to your thought, your judgment, your pleasure, but that which was in the mind of Christ concerning you as the source of your welfare. For his motive throughout was not his own advantage; everything he did was done for your sake and in your interest. Let men therefore, in accord with his example, work every good thing for one another's benefit. "Who, existing in the form of God, counted not the being on an equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant." ["Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant."] 3. If Christ, who was true God by nature, has humbled himself to become servant of all, how much more should such action befit us who are of no worth, and are by nature children of sin, death and the devil! Were we similarly to humble ourselves, and even to go beyond Christ in humility--a thing, however, impossible--we should do nothing extraordinary. Our humility would still reek of sin in comparison with his. Suppose Christ to humble himself in the least degree--but a hair's breadth, so to speak--below the most exalted angels; and suppose we were to humble ourselves to a position a thousand times more abased than that of the devils in hell; yet our humility would not compare in the least with that of Christ. For he is an infinite blessing--God himself--and we are but miserable creatures whose existence and life are not for one moment secure. 4. What terrible judgment must come upon those who fail to imitate the ineffable example of Christ; who do not humble themselves below their neighbors and serve them, but rather exalt themselves above them! Indeed, the example of Christ may well terrify the exalted, and those high in authority; and still more the self-exalted. Who would not shrink from occupying the uppermost seat and from lording it over others when he sees the Son of God humble and eliminate himself? 5. The phrase "form of God" does not receive the same interpretation from all. Some understand Paul to refer to the divine essence and nature in Christ; meaning that Christ, though true God, humbled himself. While Christ is indeed true God, Paul is not speaking here of his divine essence, which is concealed. The word he uses--"morphe," or "forma"--he employs again where he tells of Christ taking upon himself the form of a servant. "Form of a servant" certainly cannot signify "essence of a real servant"--possessing by nature the qualities of a servant. For Christ is not our servant by nature; he has become our servant from good will and favor toward us. For the same reason "divine form" cannot properly mean "divine essence"; for divine essence is not visible, while the divine form was truly seen. Very well; then let us use the vernacular, and thus make the apostle's meaning clear. 6. "Form of God," then, means the assumption of a divine attitude and bearing, or the manifestation of divinity in port and presence; and this not privately, but before others, who witness such form and bearing. To speak in the clearest possible manner: Divine bearing and attitude are in evidence when one manifests in word and deed that which pertains peculiarly to God and suggests divinity. Accordingly, "the form of a servant" implies the assumption of the attitude and bearing of a servant in relation to others. It might be better to render "Morphe tu dulu," by "the bearing of a servant," that means, manners of such character that whoever sees the person must take him for a servant. This should make it clear that the passage in question does not refer to the manifestation of divinity or servility as such, but to the characteristics and the expression of the same. For, as previously stated, the essence is concealed, but its manifestation is public. The essence implies a condition, while its expression implies action. 7. As regards these forms, or manifestations, a threefold aspect is suggested by the words of Paul. The essence may exist without the manifestation; there may be a manifestation without the corresponding essence; and finally, we may find the essence together with its proper manifestation. For instance, when God conceals himself and gives no indication of his presence, there is divinity, albeit not manifest. This is the case when he is grieved and withdraws his grace. On the other hand, when he discloses his grace, there is both the essence and its manifestation. But the third aspect is inconceivable for God, namely, a manifestation of divinity without the essence. This is rather a trick of the devil and his servants, who usurp the place of God and act as God, though they are anything but divine. An illustration of this we find in Ezekiel 28, 2, where the king of Tyre is recorded as representing his heart, which was certainly decidedly human, as that of a god. 8. Similarly, the form, or bearing, of a servant may be considered from a threefold aspect. One may be a servant and not deport himself as such, but as a lord, or as God; as in the instance just mentioned. Of such a one Solomon speaks (Prov 29, 21), saying: "He that delicately bringeth up his servant from a child shall have him become a son at the last." Such are all the children of Adam. We who are rightly God's servants would be God himself. This is what the devil taught Eve when he said, "Ye shall be as God." Gen 3, 5. Again, one may be a servant and conduct himself as one, as all just and faithful servants behave before the world; and as all true Christians conduct themselves in God's sight, being subject to him and serving all men. Thirdly, one may be not a servant and yet behave as one. For instance, a king might minister to his servants before the world. Before God, however, all men being servants, this situation is impossible with men; no one has so done but Christ. He says at the supper (Jn 13, 13-14): "Ye call me, Teacher, and, Lord: and ye say well; for so I am," and yet I am among you as a servant. And in another place (Mt 20, 28), "The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister." 9. From these explanations Paul's meaning must have become clear. His thought is: Christ was in the form of God; that is, both the essence and the bearing of Deity were his. He did not assume the divine form as he did that of a servant. He was, I repeat it; he was in the form of God. The little word "was" expresses that divinity was his both in essence and form. The meaning is: Many assume and display an appearance of divinity, but are not themselves actually divine; the devil, for instance, and Antichrist and Adam's children. This is sacrilege--the assumption of divinity by an act of robbery. See Rom 2, 22. Though the offender does not look upon such conduct as robbery, it is none the less robbing divine honor, and is so regarded by God and angels and saints, and even by his own conscience. But Christ, who had not come by divinity through arrogating it to himself, but was divine by nature according to his very essence, did not deem his divinity a thing he had grasped; nor could he, knowing divinity to be his very birthright, and holding it as his own natural possession from eternity. 10. So Paul's words commend Christ's essential divinity and his love toward us, and at the same time correct all who falsely assume a divine form. Such are we all so long as we are the devil's members. The thought is: The devil's members all would be God, would rob the divinity they do not possess; and they must admit their action to be robbery, for conscience testifies, indeed must testify, that they are not God. Though they may despise the testimony of conscience and fail to heed it, yet the testimony stands, steadfastly maintaining the act as not right--as a malicious robbery. But the one man, Christ, who did not assume the divine form but was in it by right and had a claim upon it from eternity; who did not and could not hold it robbery to be equal with God; this man humbled himself, taking upon him the form of a servant--not his rightful form--that he by the power of his winning example, might induce them to assume the bearing of servants who possessed the form and character of servants, but who, refusing to own them, appropriated the appearance of divinity upon which they had no claim, since the essence of divinity was forever beyond them. 11. That some fail to understand readily this great text, is due to the fact that they do not accept Paul's words as spoken, but substitute their own ideas of what he should have said, namely: Christ was born true God and did not rob divinity, etc. The expression "who, existing in the form of God" sounds, in the Greek and Latin, almost as if Christ had merely borne himself as God, unless particular regard be given to the words "existing in," which Paul contrasts with the phrase "took upon him." Christ took upon himself the form of a servant, it is true, but in that form was no real servant. Just so, while dispensing with a divine appearance, behind the appearance chosen was God. And we likewise take upon ourselves the divine form, but in the form we are not divine; and we spurn the form of servants, though that is what we are irrespective of appearance. Christ disrobes himself of the divine form wherein he existed, to assume that of a servant, which did not express his essential character; but we lay aside the servant form of our real being and take upon ourselves, or arrogate to ourselves, the form of God to which we are not fitted by what we are in reality. 12. They are startled by this expression also: "Christ thought it not robbery to be equal with God." Now, at first sight these words do not seem to refer solely to Christ, since even the devil and his own, who continually aspire to equality with God, do not think their action robbery in spite of the testimony of their conscience to the contrary. But with Paul the little word "think," or "regard," possesses a powerful significance, having the force of "perfect assurance." Similarly he says (Rom 3, 28), "We reckon therefore that a man is justified by faith apart from the works of the law"; and (1 Cor 7, 40), "I think [deem] that I also have the spirit of God." But the wicked cannot boast it no robbery when they dare take upon themselves the form of God; for they know, they are satisfied in themselves, that they are not God. Christ, however, did not, nor could he, think himself not equal to God; in other words, he was confident of his equality with God, and knew he had not stolen the honor. Paul's words are chosen, not as an apology for Christ, but as a severe rebuke for those who arrogate to themselves the form of God against the protest of conscience that it is not their own but stolen. The apostle would show how infinitely Christ differs from them, and that the divine form they would take by theft is Christ's by right. 13. Paul does not use this expression, however, when he refers to Christ's assumption of the servant form which is his, not by nature, but by assumption. The words produce the impression that Christ took by force something not his own. Paul should be expected to say: "He held it not robbery to assume the form of a servant." Why should he rather have chosen that form of expression in the first instance, since Christ did not assume the divine form, but possessed it as his very own--yes, laid it aside and assumed a form foreign to his nature? The substance of the matter is that he who becomes a servant does not and cannot assume anything, but only gives, giving even himself. Hence there is no warrant here to speak of robbery or of a disposition to look upon the matter in this light. On the other hand, assumption of the divine form necessarily involves taking, and altogether precludes giving. Hence there is warrant to speak of robbery in this connection, and of men who so view it. But this charge cannot be brought against Christ. He does not render himself guilty of robbery, nor does he so view his relation, as all others must do. Divinity is his by right, and so is its appropriate form a birthright. 14. Thus, it seems to me, this text very clearly teaches that to have divine form is simply to assume in regard to others, in word and deed, the bearing of God and Lord; and that Christ meets this test in the miraculous signs and life-giving words, as the Gospels contend. He does not rank with the saints who lack the divine essence; he has, in addition to divine form, the divine essence and nature. On the other hand, the servant, or servile, form implies acting toward others, in word and deed, like a servant. Thus Christ did when he served the disciples and gave himself for us. But he served not as the saints, who are servants by nature. Service was, with him, something assumed for our benefit and as an example for us to follow, teaching us to act in like manner toward others, to disrobe ourselves of the appearance of divinity as he did, as we shall see. 15. Unquestionably, then, Paul proclaims Christ true God. Had he been mere man, what would have been the occasion for saying that he became like a man and was found in the fashion of other men? and that he assumed the form of a servant though he was in form divine? Where would be the sense in my saying to you, "You are like a man, are made in the fashion of a man, and take upon yourself the form of a servant"? You would think I was mocking you, and might appropriately reply: "I am glad you regard me as a man; I was wondering if I were an ox or a wolf. Are you mad or foolish?" Would not that be the natural rejoinder to such a foolish statement? Now, Paul not being foolish, nor being guilty of foolish speech, there truly must have been something exalted and divine about Christ. For when the apostle declares that he was made like unto other men, though the fact of his being human is undisputed, he simply means that the man Christ was God, and could, even in his humanity, have borne himself as divine. But this is precisely what he did not do; he refrained: he disrobed himself of his divinity and bore himself as a mere man like others. 16. What follows concerning Christ, now that we understand the meaning of "form of God" and "form of a servant," is surely plain. In fact, Paul himself tells us what he means by "form of a servant." First: He makes the explanation that Christ disrobed, or divested himself; that is, appeared to lay aside his divinity in that he divested himself of its benefit and glory. Not that he did, or could, divest himself of his divine nature; but that he laid aside the form of divine majesty--did not act as the God he truly was. Nor did he divest himself of the divine form to the extent of making it unfelt and invisible; in that case there would have been no divine form left. He simply did not affect a divine appearance and dazzle us by its splendor; rather he served us with that divinity. He performed miracles. And during his suffering on the cross he, with divine power, gave to the murderer the promise of Paradise. Lk 23, 43. And in the garden, similarly, he repelled the multitude by a word. Jn 18, 6. Hence Paul does not say that Christ was divested by some outside power; he says Christ "made himself" of no repute. Just so the wise man does not in a literal way lay aside wisdom and the appearance of wisdom, but discards them for the purpose of serving the simple-minded who might fittingly serve him. Such man makes himself of no reputation when he divests himself of his wisdom and the appearance of wisdom. 17. Second: Christ assumed the form of a servant, even while remaining God and having the form of God; he was God, and his divine words and works were spoken and wrought for our benefit. As a servant, he served us with these. He did not require us to serve him in compensation for them, as in the capacity of a Lord he had a just right to do. He sought not honor or profit thereby, but our benefit and salvation. It was a willing service and gratuitously performed, for the good of men. It was a service unspeakably great, because of the ineffable greatness of the minister and servant--God eternal, whom all angels and creatures serve. He who is not by this example heartily constrained to serve his fellows, is justly condemned. He is harder than stone, darker than hell and utterly without excuse. 18. Third: "Being made in the likeness of men." Born of Mary, Christ's nature became human. But even in that humanity he might have exalted himself above all men and served none. But he forbore and became as other men. And by "likeness of men" we must understand just ordinary humanity without special privilege whatever. Now, without special privilege there is no disparity among men. Understand, then, Paul says in effect: Christ was made as any other man who has neither riches, honor, power nor advantage above his fellows; for many inherit power, honor and property by birth. So lowly did Christ become, and with such humility did he conduct himself, that no mortal is too lowly to be his equal, even servants and the poor. At the same time, Christ was sound, without bodily infirmities, as man in his natural condition might be expected to be. 19. Fourth: "And being found in fashion as a man." That is, he followed the customs and habits of men, eating and drinking, sleeping and waking, walking and standing, hungering and thirsting, enduring cold and heat, knowing labor and weariness, needing clothing and shelter, feeling the necessity of prayer, and having the same experience as any other man in his relation to God and the world. He had power to avoid these conditions; as God he might have demeaned and borne himself quite differently. But in becoming man, as above stated, he fared as a human being, and he accepted the necessities of ordinary mortals while all the time he manifested the divine form which expressed his true self. 20. Fifth: "He humbled himself," or debased himself. In addition to manifesting his servant form in becoming man and faring as an ordinary human being, he went farther and made himself lower than any man. He abased himself to serve all men with the supreme service--the gift of his life in our behalf. 21. Sixth: He not only made himself subject to men, but also to sin, death and the devil, and bore it all for us. He accepted the most ignominious death, the death on the cross, dying not as a man but as a worm (Ps 22, 6); yes, as an arch-knave, a knave above all knaves, in that he lost even what favor, recognition and honor were due to the assumed servant form in which he had revealed himself, and perished altogether. 22. Seventh: All this Christ surely did not do because we were worthy of it. Who could be worthy such service from such a one? Obedience to the Father moved him. Here Paul with one word unlocks heaven and permits us to look into the unfathomable abyss of divine majesty and to behold the ineffable love of the Fatherly heart toward us--his gracious will for us. He shows us how from eternity it has been God's pleasure that Christ, the glorious one who has wrought all this, should do it for us. What human heart would not melt at the joy-inspiring thought? Who would not love, praise and thank God and in return for his goodness, not only be ready to serve the world, but gladly to embrace the extremity of humility? Who would not so do when he is aware that God himself has such precious regard for him, and points to the obedience of his Son as the pouring out and evidence of his Fatherly will. Oh, the significance of the words Paul here uses! such words as he uses in no other place! He must certainly have burned with joy and cheer. To gain such a glimpse of God--surely this must be coming to the Father through Christ. Here is truly illustrated the truth that no one comes to Christ except the Father draw him; and with what power, what delicious sweetness, the Father allures! How many are the preachers of the faith who imagine they know it all, when they have received not even an odor or taste of these things! How soon are they become masters who have never been disciples! Not having tasted God's love, they cannot impart it; hence they remain unprofitable babblers. "Wherefore also God highly exalted him." 23. As Christ was cast to the lowest depths and subjected to all devils, in obeying God and serving us, so has God exalted him Lord over all angels and creatures, and over death and hell. Christ now has completely divested himself of the servant form--laid it aside. Henceforth he exists in the divine form, glorified, proclaimed, confessed, honored and recognized as God. While it is not wholly apparent to us that "all things are put in subjection" to Christ, as Paul says (1 Cor 15, 27), the trouble is merely with our perception of the fact. It is true that Christ is thus exalted in person and seated on high in the fullness of power and might, executing everywhere his will; though few believe the order of events is for the sake of Christ. Freely the events order themselves, and the Lord sits enthroned free from all restrictions. But our eyes are as yet blinded. We do not perceive him there nor recognize that all things obey his will. The last day, however, will reveal it. Then we shall comprehend present mysteries; how Christ laid aside his divine form, was made man, and so on; how he also laid aside the form of a servant and resumed the divine likeness; how as God he appeared in glory; and how he is now Lord of life and death, and the King of Glory. This must suffice on the text. For how we, too, should come down from our eminence and serve others has been sufficiently treated of in other postils. Remember, God desires us to serve one another with body, property, honor, spirit and soul, even as his Son served us. SUMMER PART _Easter Sunday_ Text: First Corinthians 5, 6-8. 6 Your glorying is not good. Know ye not that a little leaven leaveneth the whole lump? 7 Purge out the old leaven, that ye may be a new lump, even as ye are unleavened. For our passover also hath been sacrificed, even Christ: 8 wherefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, neither with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth. EXHORTATION TO WALK AS CHRISTIANS.[1] [Footnote 1: This and all the following sermons on the Epistle Texts were first printed in 1540 and 1543 and included in the Epistle Postil.] 1. When God was about to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, he commanded, shortly before their departure, that they should eat the Passover the night they started; and as a perpetual memorial of their redemption, they were annually, on the recurrence of the season, to celebrate the feast of Easter for seven days. A specially urgent feature of the command was that on the first evening of the feast they must put out of their houses all leaven and leavened bread, and during the seven days eat none but the unleavened bread, or cakes. Hence the evangelists speak of the feast as the Feast (or Days) of Unleavened Bread. Mk 14, 1; Lk 22, 1. 2. Paul, in this lesson, explains the figure in brief but beautiful and expressive words. He is prompted to introduce the subject by the fact that in the preceding verses of this chapter he has been reproving the Corinthians for their disposition to boast of the Gospel and of Christ while abusing such liberty unto unchastity and other sins. He admonishes them that, possessing the Gospel and having become Christians, they ought, as becomes Christians, to live according to the Gospel, avoiding everything not consistent with the faith and with Christian character--everything not befitting them as new creatures. 3. So the apostle uses the figure of the Paschal lamb and unleavened bread requisite at the Jews' Feast of the Passover, in his effort to point the Corinthians to the true character and purpose of the New Testament made with us in the kingdom of Christ. He explains what is the true Paschal Lamb and what the unleavened bread, and how to observe the real Passover, wherein all must be new and spiritual. In the joy and wealth of his mind he presents this analogy to remind them that they are Christians and to consider what that means. His meaning is: Being Christians and God's true people, and called upon to observe a Passover, you must go about it in the right way, putting away from you all remaining leaven until it shall have been purged out utterly. What Paul means by "leaven" is told later in his phrase "neither with the leaven of malice and wickedness"; he means whatever is evil and wicked. Everything foreign to Christianity in both doctrine, or faith, and life, is "leaven." From all this Paul would have Christians purge themselves with the same thoroughness with which the leaven was to be put away from their Easter according to the law. And, holding to the figure, he would have us observe our Passover in the use of the sweet bread, which, in distinction from the leaven, signifies sincerity and truth, or a nature and life completely new. 4. The text, then, is but an admonition to upright Christian works, directed to those who have heard the Gospel and learned to know Christ. This is what Paul figuratively calls partaking of the true unleavened bread--or wafers, or cakes. We Germans have borrowed our word "cakes" from the phraseology of the Jewish Church, abbreviating "oblaten," wafers, into "fladen," or cakes. How else should we gentiles get the idea of cakes on Easter, when at our Passover we, by faith, eat the Paschal Lamb, Christ? We are admonished to partake of the true unleavened bread, that life and conduct may accord with faith in Christ, whom we have learned to know. Paul's admonition begins: "Know ye not that a little leaven leaveneth the whole lump?" 5. This by way of introducing the succeeding admonitions. Leaven is a common figure with the apostle, one he uses frequently, almost proverbially; employing it, too, in his epistle to the Galatians (ch. 5, 9). Christ, also, gives us a Scripture parable of the leaven. Mt 13, 33. It is the nature of leaven that a small quantity mixed with a lump of dough will pervade and fill the whole lump until its own acid nature has been imparted to it. This Paul makes a figure of spiritual things as regards both doctrine and life. 6. In Galatians 5, 9 he makes it more especially typify false doctrine. For it is just as true that the introduction of an error in an article of faith will soon work injury to the whole and result in the loss of Christ. Thus it was with the Galatians. The one thing insisted upon by the false apostles was circumcision, though they fully intended to preach the Gospel of Christ. Such innovation will pursue its course with destructive sweep until even the uncontaminated part becomes worthless; the once pure mass is wholly corrupted. The apostle writes to the Galatians (ch. 5, 2): "Behold, I Paul say unto you, that, if ye receive circumcision, Christ will profit you nothing." Again (verse 4), "Ye are severed from Christ--ye are fallen away from grace." But in this text he has reference more particularly to an erroneous idea concerning life and conduct. In this instance it is likewise true that, once the flesh be allowed any license, and liberty be abused, and that under the name of the Gospel, there is introduced a leaven which will speedily corrupt faith and conscience, and continue its work until Christ and the Gospel are lost. Such would have been the fate of the Corinthians had not Paul saved them from it by this epistle admonishing and urging them to purge out the leaven of license; for they had begun to practice great wantonness, and had given rise to sects and factions which tended to subvert the one Gospel and the one faith. 7. This is, then, wise counsel and serious admonition, that faithful guard be maintained against the infusion or introduction into doctrine of what is false, whether it pertains to works or faith. The Word of God, faith and conscience are very delicate things. The old proverb says: "Non patitur jocum fama, fides, oculus;"--Good reputation, faith and the eye--these three will bear no jest. Just as good wine or precious medicines are corrupted by a single drop of poison or other impurity, and the purer they are, the more readily defiled and poisoned; so, also, God's Word and his cause will bear absolutely no alloy. God's truth must be perfectly pure and clear, or else, it is corrupt and unprofitable. And the worst feature of the matter is, the sway and intrenchment of evil is so strong that it cannot be removed; just as leaven, however small the quantity, added to the lump of dough, soon penetrates and sours the whole lump, while it is impossible to arrest its influence or once more to sweeten the dough. 8. The proposal of certain wise minds to mediate, and effect a compromise, between us and our opponents of the Papacy, is wrong and useless. They would permit preaching of the Gospel but at the same time retain the Papistical abuses, advocating that these errors be not all censured and rejected, because of the weak; and that for the sake of peace and unity we should somehow moderate and restrict our demands, each party being ready to yield to the other and patiently bear with it. While in such case no perfect purity can be claimed to exist, the situation can be made endurable if discretion is used and trouble is taken to explain. Nay, not so! For, as you hear, Paul would not mix even a small quantity of leaven with the pure lump, and God himself has urgently forbidden it. The slight alloy would thoroughly penetrate and corrupt the whole. Where human additions are made to the Gospel doctrine in but a single point, the injury is done; truth is obscured and souls are led astray. Therefore, such mixture, such patchwork, in doctrine is not to be tolerated. As Christ teaches (Mt 9, 16), we must not put new cloth upon an old garment. 9. Nor may we in our works and in our daily life tolerate the yielding to the wantonness of the flesh and at the same time boast the Gospel of Christ, as did the Corinthians, who stirred up among themselves divisions and disorder, even to the extent of one marrying his stepmother. In such matters as these, Paul says, a little leaven leavens and ruins the whole lump--the entire Christian life. These two things are not consistent with each other: to hold to the Christian faith and to live after the wantonness of the flesh, in sins and vices condemned by the conscience. Paul elsewhere warns (1 Cor 6, 9-10): "Be not deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with men, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God." Again (Gal 5, 19-21): "The works of the flesh are manifest ... of which I forewarn you, even as I did forewarn you, that they who practice such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God." 10. Warrant is given here likewise for censuring and restraining the rash individuals who assert that men should not be terrified by the Law, nor surrendered to Satan. No! it is our duty to teach men to purge out the old leaven; we must tell them they are not Christians, but devoid of the faith, when they yield to the wantonness of the flesh and wilfully persevere in sin against the warning of conscience. We should teach that such sins are so much the more vicious and damnable when practiced under the name of the Gospel, under cover of Christian liberty; for that is despising and blaspheming the name of Christ and the Gospel: and therefore such conduct must be positively renounced and purged out, as irreconcilable with faith and a good conscience. "Purge out the old leaven, that ye may be a new lump, even as ye are unleavened." 11. If we are to be a new, sweet lump, Paul says, we must purge out the old leaven. For, as stated, a nature renewed by faith and Christianity will not admit of our living as we did when devoid of faith and in sin, under the influence of an evil conscience. We cannot consistently be "a new lump" and partake of the Passover, and at the same time permit the old leaven to remain: for if the latter be not purged out, the whole lump will be leavened and corrupted; our previous sinful nature will again have supremacy and overthrow the faith, the holiness upon which we have entered and a good conscience. 12. Paul does not here speak of leaven in general; he commands to purge out the "old leaven," implying there may be good leaven. Doubtless he is influenced by respect for the words of the Lord Christ where (Mt 13, 33) he likens the kingdom of heaven also to leaven. In this latter case leaven cannot be bad in quality; rather, the object in mixing it with the lump is to produce good, new bread. Reference is to the Word of God, or the preaching of the Gospel, whereby we are incorporated into the kingdom of Christ, or the Christian Church. Though the Gospel appears to be mean, is despicable and objectionable to the world, yet such is its power that wherever introduced it spreads, finding disciples in whom it works; it transforms them, giving to them its own properties, even as leaven imparts its powers to the dough and causes it to rise. But Paul refers here to old, inactive and worthless leaven. He means teachings, views, or manner of life resulting from the Old Adam, from flesh and blood, and destructive of the pure, new doctrine, or a nature renewed by Christianity. Later on he terms it the "leaven of malice and wickedness," and in the verse under consideration bids the Corinthians be a new, pure lump. 13. Note the apostle's peculiar words. He enjoins purging out the old leaven, assigning as reason the fact: Ye are a new and unleavened lump. By a new unleavened lump he means that faith which clings to Christ and believes in the forgiveness of sin through him; for he immediately speaks of our Passover: Christ, sacrificed for us. By this faith the Corinthians are now purified from the old leaven, the leaven of sin and an evil conscience, and have entered upon the new life; yet they are commanded to purge out the old leaven. 14. Now, how shall we explain the fact that he bids them purge out the old leaven that they may be a new lump, when at the same time he admits them to be unleavened and a new lump? How can these Corinthians be as true, unleavened wafers, or sweet dough, when they have yet to purge out the old leaven? This is an instance of the Pauline and apostolic way of speaking concerning Christians and the kingdom of Christ; it shows us what the condition really is. It is a discipline wherein a new, Christian life is entered upon through faith in Christ the true Passover; hence, Easter is celebrated with sweet, unleavened bread. But at the same time something of the old life remains, which must be swept out, or purged away. However, this latter is not imputed, because faith and Christ are there, constantly toiling and striving to thoroughly purge out whatever uncleanness remains. 15. Through faith we have Christ and his purity perfectly conferred upon ourselves, and we are thus regarded pure; yet in our own personal nature we are not immediately made wholly pure, without sin or weakness. Much of the old leaven still remains, but it will be forgiven, not be imputed to us, if only we continue in faith and are occupied with purging out that remaining impurity. This is Christ's thought when he says to his disciples (Jn 15, 3), "Already ye are clean because of the word which I have spoken unto you," and in the same connection he declares that the branches in him must be purged that they may bring forth more fruit. And to Peter--and to others--he says (Jn 13, 10), "He that is bathed needeth not save to wash his feet, but is clean every whit: and ye are clean, but not all." These passages, as is also stated elsewhere, teach that a Christian by faith lays hold upon the purity of Christ, for which reason he is also regarded pure and begins to make progress in purity; for faith brings the Holy Spirit, who works in man, enabling him to withstand and to subdue sin. 16. They are to be censured according to whose representations and views a Christian Church is to be advocated which should be in all respects without infirmity and defect, and who teach that, when perfection is not in evidence, there is no such thing as the Church of Christ nor as true Christians. Many erring spirits, especially strong pretenders to wisdom, and precocious, self-made saints, immediately become impatient at sight of any weakness in Christians who profess the Gospel faith; for their own dreams are of a Church without any imperfections, a thing impossible in this earthly life, even they themselves not being perfect. 17. Such, we must know, is the nature of Christ's office and dominion in his Church that though he really does instantaneously, through faith, confer upon us his purity, and by the Spirit transforms our hearts, yet the work of transformation and purification is not at once completed. Daily Christ works in us and purges us, to the end that we grow in purity daily. This work he carries on in us through the agency of the Word, admonishing, reproving, correcting and strengthening; as in the case of the Corinthians through the instrumentality of Paul. Christ also uses crosses and afflictions in effecting this end. He did not come to toil, to suffer and to die because he expected to find pure and holy people. Purity and holiness for us he has acquired in his own person to perfection, inasmuch as he was without sin and perfectly pure from the moment he became man, and this purity and holiness he communicates to us in their flawless perfection in so far our faith clings to him. But to attain personal purity of such perfection requires a daily effort on the part of Christ, until the time shall have come that he has wrought in us a flawless perfection like his own. So he has given us his Word and his Spirit to aid us in purging out the remaining old leaven, and in holding to our newly-begun purity instead of lapsing from it. We must retain the faith, the Spirit and Christ; and this, as before said, we cannot do if we give place to the old carnal disposition instead of resisting it. 18. Note, one thing the text teaches: Even the saints have weakness, uncleanness and sin yet to be purged out, but it is not imputed unto them because they are in Christ and occupied in purging out the old leaven. 19. Another thing, it teaches what constitutes the difference between the saints and the unholy, for both are sinful; it tells the nature of sins despite the presence of which saints and believers are holy, retaining grace and the Holy Spirit, and also what sins are inconsistent with faith and grace. 20. The sins remaining in saints after conversion are various evil inclinations, lusts and desires natural to man and contrary to the Law of God. The saints, as well as others, are conscious of these sins, but with this difference: they do not permit themselves to be overcome thereby so as to obey the sins, allowing them free course; they do not yield to, but resist, such sins, and, as Paul expresses it here, incessantly purge themselves therefrom. The sins of the saints, according to him, are the very ones which they purge out. Those who obey their lusts, however, do not do this, but give rein to the flesh, and sin against the protest of their own consciences. They who resist their sinful lusts retain faith and a good conscience, a thing impossible with those who fail to resist sin and thus violate their conscience and overthrow their faith. If you persist in that which is evil regardless of the voice of conscience, you cannot say, nor believe, that you have God's favor. So then, the Christian necessarily must not yield to sinful lusts. 21. The Holy Spirit is given for the very purpose of opposing sin and preventing its reign. Paul says (Gal 5, 17): "For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh ... that ye may not do the things that ye would." And again (Rom 8, 13): "If by the Spirit ye put to death the deeds of the body, ye shall live." Also (Rom 6, 12): "Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that ye should obey the lusts thereof." "For our passover also hath been sacrificed, even Christ." ["For even Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us."] 22. Here Paul assigns his reason for the statement just made--"Ye are unleavened." They are a new, unleavened or sweet lump, not because of any merit on their part, not because of their own holiness or worthiness, but because they have faith in Christ as the Passover sacrificed for them. This sacrifice makes them pure and holy before God. They are no more the old leaven they were when out of Christ. By this sacrifice they are reconciled with God and purified from sin. 23. Likewise for us God institutes a new ordinance, a new festival. The old has given place to something wholly new. A different and better Passover sacrifice succeeds that of the Jews. The Jews had annually to partake of their offered sacrifice, but they were not thereby made holy nor pure from sin. Theirs was a sign or earnest of the true Passover to come, the Passover promised by God, in the shed blood of which we are washed from sin and wholly healed--a Passover the partaking whereof we must enjoy by faith. We have now one perpetual and eternal Easter festival, wherein faith is nourished, satisfied and gladdened; in other words, we receive remission of sins and comfort and strength through this our Passover, Christ. 24. The meaning of the phrase "sacrificed for us" has been explained in the sermon on the Passion of Christ. Two thoughts are there presented: First, necessity of considering the greatness and terror of the wrath of God against sin in that it could be appeased and a ransom effected in no other way than through the one sacrifice of the Son of God. Only his death and the shedding of his blood could make satisfaction. And we must consider also that we by our sinfulness had incurred that wrath of God and therefore were responsible for the offering of the Son of God upon the cross and the shedding of his blood. Well may we be terrified because of our sins, for God's wrath cannot be trivial when we are told no sacrifice save alone the Son of God can brave such wrath and avail for sin. Do you imagine yourself able to endure that wrath of God, or to withstand it if you will not consider this and accept it? 25. The second thought presented in the sermon mentioned is, the necessity of recognizing the inexpressible love and grace of God toward us. Only so can the terrified heart of man regain comfort. It must be made aware why God spared not his own Son but offered him a sacrifice upon the cross, delivered him to death; namely, that his wrath might be lifted from us once more. What greater love and blessing could be shown? The sacrifice of Christ is presented to us to give us sure comfort against the terrors of sin. For we may perceive and be confident that we shall not be lost because of our sins when God makes such a sacrifice the precious pledge to us of his favor and promised salvation. Therefore, though your sins are great and deserve the awful wrath of God, yet the sacrifice represented by the death of the Son of God is infinitely greater. And in this sacrifice God grants you a sure token of his grace and the forgiveness of your sins. But that forgiveness must be apprehended by the faith which holds fast the declaration, "Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us." By this promise must faith be comforted and strengthened. "Wherefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, neither with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth." 26. Having, then, a Paschal Lamb and a true Easter, let us rightly value them. Let us observe the festival with the gladness it ought to inspire. Let us no longer eat the old leaven, but true wafers and paschal cakes. Where the Paschal Lamb is, there must be the unleavened bread. The former is Christ sacrificed for us. To this sacrifice we can add nothing; we can only receive and enjoy it by faith, recognizing it as a gift to us. However, possessing the Paschal Lamb, it is incumbent upon us to partake also of the sweet festal bread; in other words, while embracing the faith of the Passover, we are to maintain the true doctrine of the Gospel, illustrating it by the godly example of our own lives. We should live an eternal Easter life, as it were, to carry out Paul's analogy, a life wherein we, as justified, sanctified and purified people, continue in peace and the joy of the Holy Spirit, so long as we remain on earth. 27. In this verse, as in the preceding one, Paul contrasts the leaven and the unleavened bread. He makes leaven a general term for everything which proceeds from flesh and blood and an unrenewed sinful nature, but classifies it under two heads--the leaven of malice and the leaven of wickedness. By "malice" we understand the various open vices and sins which represent manifest wrong to God and our neighbor. "Wickedness" stands for those numerous evil tricks, those nimble, subtle, venomous artifices practiced upon Christian doctrine and the Word of God with intent to corrupt and pervert them, to mislead hearts from the true meaning thereof. Paul warns (2 Cor 11, 3): "But I fear, lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled Eve in his craftiness, your minds should be corrupted from the simplicity and the purity that is toward Christ." Under "wickedness" comes also such evils as hypocrisy and other false, deceptive dealing practiced in the name of God by way of adorning and covering the sin; false teaching and deceptive action passed off as right, proper and Christian. Such wickedness Christ terms "the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of Herod." Mk 8, 15. This sort of leaven, particularly, we have in the world to an unspeakable extent in this last and worst of times. 28. To the leaven of malice and of wickedness, Paul opposes the leaven of sincerity and truth. To be sincere is to live and act in an upright Christian way, prompted by a faithful, godly heart, a heart kindly disposed to all and meditating wrong and injury to none; and to deal as you would be dealt with. To be true is to refrain from false and crafty dealing, from deceit and roguery, and to teach and live in probity and righteousness according to the pure Word of God. Truth and sincerity must prevail and be in evidence with Christians, who have entered upon a relation and life altogether new; they should celebrate the new Easter festival by bringing faith and doctrine and life into accord with it. _Easter Monday_ Text: Acts 10, 34-43. 34 And Peter opened his mouth, and said: Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: 35 but in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is acceptable to him. 36 The word which he sent unto the children of Israel, preaching good tidings of peace by Jesus Christ (he is Lord of all)--37 that saying ye yourselves know, which was published throughout all Judæa, beginning from Galilee, after the baptism which John preached; 38 even Jesus of Nazareth, how God anointed him with the Holy Spirit and with power: who went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil; for God was with him. 39 And we are witnesses of all things which he did both in the country of the Jews, and in Jerusalem; whom also they slew, hanging him on a tree. 40 Him God raised up the third day, and gave him to be made manifest, 41 not to all the people, but unto witnesses that were chosen before of God, even to us, who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. 42 And he charged us to preach unto the people, and to testify that this is he who is ordained of God to be the Judge of the living and the dead. 43 To him bear all the prophets witness, that through his name every one that believeth on him shall receive remission of sins. THE BLESSINGS OF CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 1. This sermon Peter preached to Cornelius, the Cesarean centurion, a gentile but a believer, and to the centurion's assembled friends, Peter having been summoned by Cornelius and having responded to the call in obedience to a revelation and to the Holy Spirit's command, as related in the preceding verses of the chapter. It is an excellent sermon and bears strong testimony to Christ's resurrection. As should ever be the case with the sermons of apostles and preachers of the Gospel, it is not only a historical record of Christ's life, death and resurrection, but portrays the power and blessing thereof. The entire sermon being easily understood without explanation--for it is itself an exposition of the article on Christ's resurrection--we will go over it but briefly. 2. First, Peter begins with the inception of the preaching of the Gospel of Christ, suggesting how it was promised in the Scriptures, being declared by the prophets, that Christ should come with a new doctrine, confirming it by miracles; also that he must suffer and die and rise from the dead, establishing thus a new kingdom; and how the promise was fulfilled. For confirmation of his words Peter appeals to his hearers, reminding them of their own knowledge that such was the promise of the Scriptures, and that the message has gone forth, not being uttered secretly, in a corner, but being proclaimed throughout all Judea; and how John the Baptist had shortly before testified he was sent as Christ's herald to prepare his way by directing and leading the people to Christ, etc. THE GOSPEL A DOCTRINE OF PEACE. 3. Then Peter explains this new Gospel message as the doctrine of peace, the peace proclamation commanded of God; in other words, salvation and every good thing. The apostle portrays it as a comforting message, a Gospel of joy and grace, a message not accusing, threatening and terrifying with a vision of God's wrath for our sin, as did Moses with his doctrine of the Law. Peter offers to the hitherto terrified, God's favor, remission of sins and eternal life. Similarly, of old did the prophets prophesy of this Gospel, calling it the message of peace. Peter's language is borrowed from them. For instance, Zechariah prophesies (ch. 9, 10), "He shall speak peace unto the nations." And Isaiah (ch. 52, 7), "How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace!" Paul offers the same thought (Eph 2, 17), "And he came and preached peace to you that were far off, and peace to them that were nigh." A delightful message is this in which God recalls his wrath and, as Paul says (2 Cor 5, 18-20), reconciles us unto himself, having commanded the Gospel to be preached to the world for that very purpose, and the office of preaching to be called the ministry of reconciliation; and God admonishes us to be reconciled unto himself, to be his friends, that we may from him receive grace and every good thing. 4. Second: Peter declares what the Gospel message records concerning Christ: what he has wrought and the nature of his office--how he preached and worked miracles in the service, and for the relief, of all men; what thanks and reward his own people accorded him, in that they nailed him to the cross and put him to death; that nevertheless Christ was not destroyed by the power of the world nor overcome by death, but even retained his freedom, showing himself after death and letting his voice be heard; and that he is now exalted Lord and Judge over all. THE ARTICLE OF FAITH ON THE RESURRECTION. 5. Here are comprised in a few words the entire history of the Gospel, and the articles of the Christian faith; but particularly does Peter deal with the article of the resurrection, the fact that Christ has, in his own person, completely overcome death and reigns eternal King and Lord of life. In proof of the truth of this article, the apostle adduces the fact of Christ's manifesting himself alive to his disciples, eating and drinking with them and appointing them special witnesses to these things as men to whom the doctrine had been proven, had been established by actual sight of the miracles. 6. Third: Peter states the item of chief importance in the article, the blessing resulting to us. He explains first why Christ suffered all these things, and how the Gospel was to be published and received; Christ's motive in it all was not his advantage but our good. Before we could know the truth and be blessed, it was necessary that the message be preached. God commanded the apostles, Peter says, to preach the Gospel in all the world that all men might know it; and thus the blessing is brought to men through the public office of the ministry. 7. Fourth: Our obligation concerning the message brought to us, and what it works in ourselves, is indicated in these concluding words of Peter's sermon: "To him bear all the prophets witness, that through his name every one that believeth on him shall receive remission of sins." 8. This verse constitutes the principal theme of the sermon. It is one of the greatest in the writings of the apostles. It contains the vital element of the Gospel message, teaching how we may appropriate its blessing, how obtain what it offers, namely, by faith; faith lays hold of what is offered us in the Gospel. The message is preached that we may receive and retain it. Through the Word the blessing is pronounced our own--it is offered to, or given, us; but by faith we receive it, make it our own, permit it to work in us. 9. This power and work in us is called by Peter "remission of sins." This is the blessing, the possession, conferred through the preaching of the doctrine of Christ, or the articles of faith, particularly the articles of the resurrection. The meaning of the new message of comfort, the new declaration of peace, is that Christ, through his resurrection, has in himself conquered our sin and death, has turned away the wrath of God and procured grace and salvation; that he has commanded forgiveness to be preached unto us, desiring us to believe he gives it and confidently to receive it through faith. 10. Faith must be of such character as to apprehend and hold fast the truth Peter declares in this verse. It must say "in his name." That is, must ascribe to Christ alone the entire agency, merit and power responsible for remission of sins; must believe we have forgiveness, not through our own worthiness, but for Christ's sake alone; must believe that by virtue of Christ's resurrection we obtain remission of sins, every namable element not from Christ being completely excluded, and the honor given to him alone. What does the work, the ability, of all mankind amount to when it comes to accomplishing or meriting a thing of such magnitude as remission of sins and redemption from death and eternal wrath? How will it compare with the death and shed blood of the Son of God, with the power of his resurrection? How will it divide honors with him in having merit to secure remission of sin and redemption from death? The efficacy of Christ's death and blood alone God would have preached in all the world and accepted by mankind. Therein he rejects the boasting of the Jews and of all aspirers to holiness through their own works, teaching them they cannot obtain his favor through the Law, or by their own efforts. In Christ's name alone is remission of sins received, and that through faith. 11. Salvation through Christ, according to Peter, was before that time proclaimed in the Scriptures, being declared by all the prophets. This is truly strong testimony adduced by the apostle; the Jewish people certainly ought to believe their own prophets unless they wilfully are hardened and lost. Much more should we gentiles have faith in Christ's atonement, being obliged to confess that not in any wise have we done aught that such grace should be offered and given to us. We certainly ought to be honest enough to honor Christ to the extent of believing the apostles, in fact the Scriptures entire. We ought to be ashamed to doubt or question the fact of forgiveness of sins and justification before God through Christ alone, to which all Scripture testifies. If we are honest with ourselves, we must confess it the truth, or secure forgiveness of sins or be justified before God by our own works. 12. Now we have heard what is the substance, the chief doctrine, of the Scriptures, the teaching to which all portions lead; namely, to teach and confirm the article of faith: we have remission of sins for Christ's sake, through faith. We have heard that such was the faith of the fathers, the prophets and all saints, from the beginning of the world, and later was the doctrine preached by Christ himself, and also the doctrine of the apostles, who were commanded to publish it to the world. To this day the same doctrine prevails, and it will until the end be unanimously accepted by the whole Christian Church, with the exception of our present opponents. The Christian Church has ever, as a unit, believed, confessed and contended for this article, the article maintaining that only in the name of the Lord Christ is remission of sin obtained; and in this faith its members have been justified before God and saved. Thus by such testimony is the foundation of our doctrine laid sufficiently firm; that article was with power contended for, defended and established long before our time. 13. He who inquires, who would know exactly, what the Christian Church ever holds and teaches, especially concerning the all-important article of justification before God, or the forgiveness of sins, over which there has always been contention, has it here plainly and exactly in this text. Here is the unwavering testimony of the entire Church from the beginning. It is not necessary, then, to dispute about the doctrine any more. No one can name any just reason, or have any excuse, for doubts on the subject; or reasonably wait for further determinations of investigating councils. In this text we see that the reliability of the article of faith has long ago been proven, even in ancient time, by the Church of the primitive fathers, of the prophets and the apostles. A solid foundation is established, one all men are bound to believe and maintain at the risk of their eternal salvation, whatever councils may establish, or the world advance and determine, to the contrary. Indeed, the sentence has been declared to us; we are commanded to shun every other doctrine that may be believed, taught or ordained. Paul says (Gal 1, 8): "But though we, or an angel from heaven, should preach unto you any gospel other than that which we preached unto you, let him be anathema." 14. You see now against what the Papacy with all its adherents blusters and rages, and how they are to be regarded who refuse to hear and to tolerate the article Peter here advances and confirms by the testimony of all the prophets and of the Scriptures entire; who cease not to persecute godly and innocent ones for their acceptance of this article of faith, under the pretense of being themselves the Church and of magnifying its name to the utmost while opposing us, though at the same time their doctrine, faith and deeds openly testify against them, proclaiming their belief and teaching to be contrary to the testimony of all the prophets and of the entire Church. By no means can they be the Church who so rashly contradict Peter and the Scriptures, who even trample under foot, in his Word, Christ himself, the Head. Rather, they must be wicked devils, a miserable rabble, the worst enemies of the Christian Church; more wicked and pernicious than heathen or Turks. 15. Lastly: Peter, by way of proving conclusively to the world that this one Lord, as he names him, Jesus of Nazareth, is the true Messiah promised of old in the Scriptures, says: "To him bear all the prophets witness." The prophets plainly speak of such a person, one to be born of David's flesh and blood, in the city of Bethlehem, who should suffer, die and rise again, accomplishing just what this Jesus has accomplished and even proven by miraculous signs. Therefore, truly the Jews and the non-Christians have no reason to doubt concerning Christ, no reason to await the coming of another. 16. Further, Peter, citing the testimony of the prophets, indicates the nature of Christ's kingdom as not external power; not temporal dominion like that of earthly lords, kings, and emperors; not dominion over countries or control of people, property and temporal concerns; but a spiritual, eternal kingdom, a kingdom in the hearts of men, an authority over, and power opposed to, sin, everlasting death and hell, a power able to redeem us from those things and bestow upon us salvation. Salvation is ours, Peter teaches, through the preaching of the Gospel, and is received by faith. Faith is the obedience every man must render unto the Lord. By faith he makes himself subject to Christ and partaker of his grace and blessings. Paul also (Rom 1, 5) uses the term "unto obedience of faith." _Easter Tuesday_ Text: Acts 13, 26-39. 26 Brethren, children of the stock of Abraham, and those among you that fear God, to us is the word of this salvation sent forth. 27 For they that dwell in Jerusalem, and their rulers, because they knew him not, nor the voices of the prophets which are read every sabbath, fulfilled them by condemning him. 28 And though they found no cause of death in him, yet asked they of Pilate that he should be slain. 29 And when they had fulfilled all things that were written of him, they took him down from the tree, and laid him in a tomb. 30 But God raised him from the dead: 31 and he was seen for many days of them that came up with him from Galilee to Jerusalem, who are now his witnesses unto the people. 32 And we bring you good tidings of the promise made unto the fathers, 33 that God hath fulfilled the same unto our children, in that he raised up Jesus; as also it is written in the second psalm, Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee. 34 And as concerning that he raised him up from the dead, now no more to return to corruption, he hath spoken on this wise, I will give you the holy and sure blessings of David. 35 Because he saith also in another psalm, Thou wilt not give thy Holy One to see corruption. 36 For David, after he had in his own generation served the counsel of God, fell asleep, and was laid unto his fathers, and saw corruption: 37 but he whom God raised up saw no corruption. 38 Be it known unto you therefore, brethren, that through this man is proclaimed unto you remission of sins: 39 and by him every one that believeth is justified from all things, from which ye could not be justified by the law of Moses. 1. This sermon Paul preached in the synagogue at Antioch in Pisidia, to the assembled Jews and gentiles. Note, he says, "whosoever among you feareth God." It is a counterpart of the sermon in the preceding epistle lesson delivered by Peter at Cesarea. Here also the first part of the sermon is simply a narration of the historical facts of Christ's resurrection, and designed to prove Christ the true Messiah promised in the Scriptures. This is sufficiently demonstrated by the facts in the case that by his own divine power and strength Christ rescued himself from death and the grave, and rose from the dead and showed himself alive and talked with men, something no man but Christ alone had ever done or ever can do. Paul elsewhere (Rom 1, 3-4) says that this Jesus our Lord was born of the seed of David according to the flesh, and was declared to be the Son of God with power by the resurrection from the dead. 2. Not content with a mere narration of the history of the resurrection, Paul cites Scripture testimony incontestably proving that Christ necessarily must rise from the dead and set up his spiritual and eternal kingdom through the Word he commanded the apostles to publish world-wide. He also discloses the true meaning of Scripture from revelation itself, showing how to seek and find Christ therein. The preceding Gospel lesson also spoke of this. 3. Third, as was true of Peter, Paul does not fail to mention what is of surpassing importance, the use of the historical parts of Scripture and the blessing and benefit accruing to us from that which Scripture proclaims and witnesses; also the method of appropriating its power and blessing. And he concludes with a beautiful utterance of apostolic power, showing how we are to obtain remission of sins and be saved. He says: "Through this man is proclaimed unto you remission of sins: and by him every one that believeth is justified from all things, from which ye could not be justified by the law of Moses." This certainly is a powerful passage and so plain it needs no comment, no further explanation. It is a point most firmly established and emphasized everywhere in Paul's epistles. We should note well and remember such clear passages, that we may gain strength and assurance as to the ground of Christian doctrine. Seeing how perfectly, as faithful, truthful and harmonious witnesses, these two apostles agree in their preaching, we are justified in confidently drawing the conclusion that any doctrine at variance with theirs, any teaching concerning the remission of sins and our salvation contrary to theirs, is not of the church, but of the devil's accursed teachers, a doctrine of Satan's own. Gal 1. _Easter Tuesday_ Second Sermon. Same Text. Acts 13, 26-39. THE WORD AND THE RESURRECTION.[1] [Footnote 1: This sermon appeared first in the Church Postil, the Explanation of the Epistle and Gospel Texts from Easter to Advent. Printed by Hans Lufft, Wittenberg, 1559.] 1. This sermon was preached by Paul in the synagogue at Antioch of Pisidia, where were gathered with the Jews some Greek converts. Wherever in a city Jews were to be found, there also were their synagogues in which they taught and preached; and many gentiles, coming to hear, were converted to God through the preaching of his Word. Undoubtedly it was by God's wonderful direction that the Jews were dispersed throughout the world among the gentiles, after the first destruction of Jerusalem by the Assyrians. Inasmuch as this dispersion resulted in the spread of the Word, they were instrumental in securing salvation for the gentiles and in preparing the way for the world-wide preaching of the Gospel by the apostles. For wherever the apostles went they found Jewish synagogues and the opportunity to preach to a regular congregation, through whom their Gospel might be widely disseminated because of the many gentiles also in attendance. Had not these gentiles been already accustomed to the Jewish synagogues, they would not have listened to the apostles, nor even permitted them publicly to preach, strangers that they were. 2. Thus it is Paul comes into the synagogue on the Sabbath, a time when the congregation was wont to assemble and read the Scriptures. He and Barnabas being guests from the country of the Jews, Paul is besought to give an exhortation, or sermon, to the people, whereupon he rises and delivers a fine, lengthy discourse concerning Christ: how in the Scriptures he had been promised unto the fathers and to David the king, had been born of the seed of David and had received the public testimony of John the Baptist; how Christ was sacrificed by the Jews (Peter gives the same account in the preceding epistle lesson); how he rose from the dead and for some time showed himself alive; how he then commanded his apostles to publish to the world the new doctrine that God's promise to the Jews had been fulfilled; and how, by his resurrection, he brought to them the promised blessing, namely, the remission of sins unattainable through the Law of Moses and all their ordinances, but dispensed and imparted alone to faith in the Christ proclaimed. 3. As stated later in the text, there were, beside the Jews, many gentiles present at the preaching of this sermon, and at its conclusion they besought Paul to speak to them again between sabbaths. Accordingly, when he came to the synagogue the next sabbath, he found almost the whole city assembled. But to return to the first sermon: Paul says, "Brethren, children of the stock of Abraham"--or, native Jews--"and those among you that fear God"--who are gentiles. Now, though this could not but be a discourse objectionable and highly offensive to the Jews, Paul opens with tender and nicely chosen words meant to conciliate and to secure their respectful attention. He highly honors them by addressing them as the people chosen by God in preference to all the gentiles; as children of the holy fathers who had a special claim to the promise of God. But, again, he vitiates his pleasing impression when he proclaims to the Jews naught else but the crucified and risen Christ, and concludes with the statement that with nothing but Moses' Law and ordinances they ranked no higher in the sight of God than the gentiles. THE WORD OF SALVATION. 4. Paul's discourse is in perfect harmony with Peter's sermon. Peter speaks of God having sent unto the Jews heralds proclaiming peace; and Paul here says, "To you [us] is the word of this salvation sent." Notwithstanding the joy and comfort wherewith these words are fraught, they could not please the Jews. The Jews disdained the idea--in fact, it was intolerable to them to hear it expressed--that after their long expectation of a Messiah to be lord and king of the world, they should receive a mere message, and at that a message rendering of no significance at all that Law and government for which they had expected, through that Messiah, exaltation and world-wide acceptance. Indeed, such an issue could only mean to them having entertained a vain hope. 5. Paul makes his teaching yet more offensive by not referring to the Gospel simply as the word of peace, as Peter does, but by giving it the greater and grander title, "the word of salvation"; in other words, a doctrine calculated to heal and save. No grander name could be found for the Gospel; for a message of salvation is an expression of God's grace, forgiveness of sins, abiding peace and life eternal. Moreover, these blessings were not to be bestowed upon the Jews alone; they were to be equally shared with the gentiles, who had no knowledge of God, of the Law, or of divine worship. The gentiles were thus to be made the equals of the Jews, leaving the latter without preference or special merit before God, and without advantage and lordship over the former in the world. 6. Thus early in his discourse Paul grows blunt and severe, kneading Jews and gentiles into one lump. Indeed, he plainly tells the Jews that the Law of Moses did not secure to them the favor of God in the past and would be equally profitless in the future; that through the Gospel message, and only so, they, and all gentiles as well, were to be delivered from sin, death and the power of the devil, and to become God's people, with power over all. Yet he presents no other tangible token of the great boon he calls salvation and blessedness than his preaching alone. Now, one may say: "The word I hear, and Paul I see, a poor human being; but this salvation--grace, life and peace--I behold not. On the contrary, I daily see and experience sin, terror, adversity, suffering and death, until it seems as if in all humanity none are so utterly forsaken by God as the Christians, who hear this message." 7. But this is precisely the precious doctrine to be learned if we are to be God's children and sensible of his kingdom within us, a doctrine beyond the knowledge and experience of the Jews with their Law and of the gentiles with their wisdom drawn from reason--this it is: our salvation stands in the word Paul here declares of Christ, a word which, in name and reality, is a word of salvation and peace; for salvation and peace are the blessings which it offers and imparts. 8. God has sent this word, Paul says. Its origin and conception is not with man. It is not the edict of the Roman emperor, nor the command of the high-priest at Jerusalem. It is the Word of the God of heaven. In it he speaks. He will have the message preached by poor human beings as a power unto happiness and salvation, both in name and reality. Such the Law never was. Paul says (Rom 1, 16): "I am not ashamed of the Gospel: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth." And God himself has bound up with it our salvation when he manifests himself in the voice heard from heaven at Jordan, saying of Christ, "This is my beloved Son"--who is to be heard. 9. God desires Christ's Word to be heard. Otherwise expressed, his command is: "Here ye have the Word of peace and salvation. Not elsewhere may you seek and find these blessings. Cling to this Word if you desire peace, happiness and salvation. Let befall what may, crosses, afflictions, discord, death--whether you be beheaded, or fall victim to pest or stroke, or in whatever manner God may call you home--in it all, look only upon me, whose Word promises that you shall not die, what seems death being but a sweet sleep, ay, the entrance into life eternal." Christ says (Jn 8, 51): "Verily, verily, I say unto you. If a man keep my Word, he shall never see death." Note, it is the keeping of the Word on which Christ lays stress. "Keeping" is holding fast to the promise, feeling and all senses to the contrary, doubting not the truth of the message heard. For he who promises is not man; it is the Lord of heaven and earth and all that in them is, who has to this moment controlled and preserved the same. One hundred years ago, what were you and I and all men now living but absolutely nothing? How and from what was creation effected when there was nothing to start with? "He spake and it was done"--that was created which before had not existence--declares Psalm 33, 9, quoting from Genesis 1; "he commanded, and it stood fast." 10. Being the Word of God, the Gospel is an entirely different thing from man's word, no matter though it be spoken by a mere man or even a donkey. Therefore, let there be, now or henceforth, discord, terror of sin; the menace of death and hell, of the grave and corruption: come upon you what may--only press to your heart this Word that Christ has sent you a message of salvation--of redemption, of triumph over all things; and that he commands you to believe it. Then you will perceive that he, as your God and Creator, will not deceive you. What are death, the devil and all creatures as a match for Christ? 11. The glory of Christ's message, then, here called by Paul "the word of salvation," is much greater and higher than would have been the promise of all the kingdoms, all the riches and splendors of the world, yes, of both heaven and earth. For what could they benefit if one possessed not the Word of salvation and eternal life? With all these, when assailed by sins, or by the distress and danger of death, one must still say, "Away with all the blessings and joys of the world, so that I may hear and have altogether the message of salvation sent by Christ." You must hold fast to it and know that it alone gives eternal peace and joy; that it must receive your faith in spite of all apparent contradiction; that you must not be governed by your reason or your feelings, but must regard that as divine, unchangeable and eternal truth which God has spoken and commands to be proclaimed. Such is Paul's exhortation addressed primarily to the Jews to accept this message as sent by God and as being the bearer of wondrous blessings. 12. Next, he proceeds to remove their chief stumbling-block, the thing of greatest offense to them. He warns them against the course adopted by them of Jerusalem, who had the Word of salvation from Christ himself, who read it in the prophets every day, who should have had no trouble perceiving that the prophets testified to Christ and that there was complete harmony between their teaching and that of Christ and the apostles, yet would not understand. Because Christ came not in the manner they desired, they condemned the very One whom they read of in the Scriptures as appearing with this Word of salvation, the time of whose coming had been pointed out, leaving them to know it had long since arrived and they had no reason to wait for another. They understood not the Scriptures because their minds were completely hardened and dominated by the fixed idea that Christ should reign as a temporal king. So thoroughly was the whole Jewish nation impressed with this belief that the very apostles had no other conception of Christ's kingdom, even after his resurrection. As John says (ch. 12, 16), they did not understand the Scriptures until Christ ascended to heaven and the Holy Spirit came. So long as there hangs before one's eyes this curtain--the carnal fancy of a temporal kingdom for Christ, an earthly government for his Church--the Scriptures cannot be understood. As Paul says of the Jews (2 Cor 3, 14), the veil remaineth in the reading of the Scriptures. But this lack of understanding is inexcusable. That is gross and wilful blindness which will not receive the instruction and direction imparted by the apostles. The Jews continue to rave against the Gospel; they will hear nothing of the Christ, though even after crucifying him they receive the offer of repentance and remission of sins at the hands of the apostles. 13. That Paul should make bold to tell the most prominent men and rulers of the whole Jewish nation--the heads of God's people, pillars of the Church, as we would say--that not only the common rabble, but likewise they themselves did not know and understand the Scriptures committed to them; ay, that, not content with such ignorance and error, they had themselves become the individuals of whom they read, the murderers and crucifiers of the Son of God, their Saviour--this was a matter of grave offense indeed! Offensive indeed was it to have this accusation brought against them, a people among whom God had ordained his worship, his temple and priesthood, and for whom he had instituted a peculiar government, giving the high-priest power to say, Do so or you will be put to death. Deut 17, 12. And of them were the glorious and great council of the seventy-two elders originally ordained through Moses (Ex 18, 25-26), the council called the Sanhedrim. They ruled the entire people and certainly knew right and wrong according to their law. Was there not reason here to tear Paul to pieces with red-hot pinchers as a seditious character, a public blasphemer, speaking not only against the Jewish government but against the honor of God himself; daring to accuse all the princes of the nation of being in error, of knowing nothing of the Scriptures, even of being murderers of the Son of God? The Pope and his crowd lack the credentials of such glory and endorsement by God. They have merely reared a system of self-devised doctrine and idolatry, which they still defend. Hence, whatever censure and condemnation we heap upon the Pope and his crowd is small in comparison to the thrust Paul dealt the Jewish leaders. 14. Note, Paul does not stand back for anything. He teaches men utterly to disregard the hue and cry of the offended Jews that they were the high-priests, teachers, rulers in a government ordained by God and commanding the obedience of the people; that teaching disobedience to them was equivalent to teaching disobedience to parents and to civil government, yes, to God himself--something in the nature of the case not to be tolerated. Yet Paul fearlessly does so teach, as an apostle of God and in fulfilment of God's command. How much more would Paul oppose our popish deceivers who, without the authority of God's Word, boast themselves heads of the Church and of the people of God, at the same time neither teaching nor understanding the Scriptures, but offering their own drivel as God's commands! 15. But what cause has Paul at heart that he dares so boldly condemn the judgment of these exalted officials? It is this, according to his own statement: There is One called Jesus Christ, of whom the prophets, in fact the entire Scriptures, speak. Him the Jews refuse to know. He is higher and greater than the high-priests and the rulers, greater than the temple or the whole city of Jerusalem. And the Jews know his coming means their passing, and their obedience to him as Lord and Supreme Ruler. Therefore, they are inexcusable in their rejection of Christ. Of no avail is their evasion, "God has given us the dominion and the supreme power, and has commanded obedience to us in equal degree with obedience to parents." 16. The fact that an individual is a lord or a prince, a father or a mother, a child or a subject, administers authority or obeys it, will not excuse him from being baptized and believing in Christ. For Christ is sole and supreme Lord over all kings, princes and governors. True, we should be obedient to parents and to civil authority, but not to the extent of disobeying the Lord, him who has created and subjected to himself emperors and magistrates equally with the lowliest of men. But the gentlemen and lords at Jerusalem, like those of our day, were unwilling to permit obedience to any but themselves. From such conditions arises the present dispute about ecclesiastical authority. To go counter to it in obeying God's command--this the ecclesiasts unjustly call disobedience and sedition. But such must be our course if we are to be loyal to our Lord and theirs, whom they deny. 17. In the matter of salvation, Caiaphas or Pope, Cæsar or king, avails naught; none avails but Jesus Christ. "Him," says Paul, "the rulers of Jerusalem, the Holy City, have killed. Though ye were ordained by God and given authority, God no longer regards you, because ye reject Christ. Ye have become great blockheads, blind leaders, understanding not at all the Scriptures. Yet ye should and would teach others, just as Moses and the prophets have pointed to this Christ promised to you and to all the world for salvation and solace. Persisting in your blindness, ye have brought him to the cross, though finding in him no cause for condemnation. Surely, he did you no injury; he deprived you of naught, neither money, goods, honor nor power, but has brought you all good--even salvation--if ye will but receive him. But ye made yourselves the very ones who fulfilled the Scriptures ye daily read--those who put Christ to death and brought to pass the fact that he rose from the dead (though without thanks to you or to Satan) and became a Lord commanding the obedience of all creatures. "We shall no longer regard what ye, or all the world, have to say of our preaching Christ; it is all the same to us whether you rage or smile. For we boast the Lord, the Son of God, made Lord over all the fathers through his resurrection. It is his will that we preach of him, and that all men believe. Since ye refuse him, your God-given privilege ceases, which, however, was granted only until the advent of the Messiah. We must withdraw from you, renouncing your authority and priesthood, and Jerusalem itself. We tell you plainly that we cannot and will not obey you in opposition to the will of the Lord." 18. Mark you, in order to make the Jews Christians, Paul had to preach that Christ was already come; that he was no longer to be looked for. He was obliged to bring home to them what they had done to Christ, they the rulers and chief of those bearing the name of God's people and entrusted with the Law and the order of divine worship--he was forced to do so that they might perceive their sin and quit their boast of having the true Law and worship, having nothing whatever wherein to glory before God. For, though possessing the Law of Moses and having heard often enough the Word of God, they would not recognize and receive the Messiah sent by God in accordance with his promise, but condemned him and became his murderers. In view of this fact, what does their boast about being Abraham's children, God's people, possessors of the prophets and the Law and the priesthood, amount to? These privileges only magnify their sins, only make their guilt the more grievous, before God. Not as blind, ignorant heathen, but as a people who have, and should know, the Word of God, they wilfully put to death God's Son. Thus we have the first part of Paul's sermon. THE RESURRECTION AND FAITH. 19. The second part deals with the resurrection of Christ and its power through faith. This is the goal Paul has in view when he tells them that they have slain the Christ, thus effecting their condemnation by God and forfeiting whatever glory they possessed as Jews, gaining shame and wrath before God in its stead. To be still delivered from such condemnation, and to obtain justification and salvation, as he expresses himself toward the end, it is necessary to hear and believe the word concerning the selfsame Christ. Moreover, inasmuch as they with their leaders have refused to receive and recognize this Messiah when he preached and wrought miracles in person; now, that he is invisible and absent in the body, they are called upon to receive him whom they themselves have crucified unto death, and to believe that he is risen from the dead as Lord over all, according to the testimony of the apostles. The dreams of the past they are now utterly to forsake, and their expectations of a Messiah still to come and elevate them with their Law and manner of worship to fame, riches and position, and to spread abroad their Moses and their priesthood in all the earth. They must now thank God for being placed on the same footing with the gentiles, in that they may come with them to the Word of salvation for the purpose of obtaining God's favor, remission of sins and life eternal. OLD TESTAMENT TESTIMONY. 20. Paul supports his discourse on the resurrection of Christ with many strong Scripture texts. There is no doubt that he dwelt on these at length and preached quite a sermon, which, however, has not been recorded here in full, but only in part. The apostle's purpose was to point us to the Old Testament Scriptures, that we might there make diligent study for ourselves of how forcibly the prophets have spoken concerning Christ, his works and his kingdom. 21. The first text Paul cites is from the Second Psalm, which treats throughout of the Messiah and his reign, as even the Jews at the time when wisdom still prevailed had to admit. Christ's own words are: "I will tell of the decree: Jehovah said unto me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee." Paul says he is here quoting from the First Psalm, though in all editions, old and new, this psalm comes second in order.[2] But the apostle does not have reference to the technical arrangement of the psalms in a book, but to the order of his quotations. The thought is: "First, I will prove it from the psalm," or, "First, as written in the psalm." Just as the preacher of today says, "I observe, first," or, "It is written, first, in the psalm," whether the psalm be the first, second, twentieth or thirtieth, he not having reference to the order of the psalm but to the order in which he cites it. [Footnote 2: Since Luther's time this discrepancy has been removed by allowing the change, "second psalm."] 22. But how does Paul make this text prove the resurrection of Christ? It is truly a strong statement, and no doubt the apostle fully explained it, amplifying it beautifully and well. The psalm refers to that Messiah, or King, who shall reign in the Jewish nation, among the people; for the writer says plainly, "I have set my king upon my holy hill of Zion," or Jerusalem. The King, then, must be true man like other men. Indeed, the psalmist adds that the kings and rulers of earth shall rage and persecute him, which could not be unless he reigned upon earth. 23. But this verse also makes the King true God, for here God calls him his own Son, begotten of himself in his divine, eternal essence and majesty. He is, then, not an adopted Son, but the true Son of God by birth. Being man, however, just like others, he must, in accord with his human nature, die; indeed, he must suffer crucifixion and death at the hands of the lords of the world. But, again, if he be also the begotten Son of God and therefore true God, he cannot, even according to his human nature, remain in death; he must come forth from it, must triumph over it, becoming Lord of life and death forever. Here is an indivisible Being, at the same time a Son of the virgin of the house of David and of God. Such cannot remain in death. If he enter death, it must be to overcome and conquer it, yes, to slay it, to destroy it; and to bring to pass that in him as Lord shall reign naught but life, life for all who receive him. This subject is elsewhere more fully expounded. 24. But the succeeding text cited on the resurrection--from Isaiah 55, 3--reads yet more strangely: "I will give you the holy and sure blessings of David," which in the Hebrew is: "I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David." The prophet has reference to the promise made to David in Second Samuel 7, concerning Christ. In the preceding verses of the chapter, Isaiah most tenderly entreats and invites the whole world to receive the promises of salvation, for thereby shall the poor, the wretched and the afflicted obtain the great treasures of joy and salvation. And immediately following the verse quoted, he speaks of the Messiah, the promised seed of David, as given to the Levites for a "witness"--in other words, a preacher sent by God--and for "a leader and commander to the peoples." The thought is of a King and Ruler differing from Moses and his priests and exponents of the Law; a ruler differing from every other lord, ruler and king, from David and all worldly rulers whatever, subjecting everything to himself. Not that this Leader should set up a new temporal government, or extend Jewish authority among the gentiles, but that both Jews and gentiles should receive him and believe in him, obtaining the fulfilment of that promise he here terms a covenant of the sure mercies of David. This covenant, God says, he enters into and keeps, a divine, sure covenant: through Christ shall be given whatever blessings God's mercy shall bestow, with remission or blotting out of sins, redemption from death and life eternal. 25. Now, if the Christ of this covenant is true man and, as the promise to David is, of David's flesh and blood; and if he is to bring eternal mercy, he must likewise be God, such gift being in the province and power of God alone. This being true, he cannot remain in death, although he may suffer death by reason of his human nature; he must of his own power rise from the dead. Only so can he raise others and give them everlasting life; only so can he truly be called eternal King of grace, righteousness and life, according to the sure promise of God. 26. Therefore, wherever the Scriptures speak of Christ's eternal kingdom, and of everlasting grace, they point out this article of the resurrection of Christ. No doubt, the apostle in explanation of the text from the Second Psalm quoted other Old Testament passages; for instance. Psalm 110, 1: "Jehovah saith unto my lord, Sit thou at my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool"; also verse 4: "Jehovah hath sworn, and will not repent: Thou art a priest for ever." In these passages God has promised to give us Christ, him who was to sit at his right hand--that is, have the omnipotent, divine power possible only to an eternal Lord and King--and at the same time to have his kingdom on earth, at Zion--or Jerusalem; and who was, moreover, to be a priest forever, being taken from among men and like unto them, even in his ability to die, yet at the same time continuing a priest forever, thereby forestalling the necessity of remaining in death and grave. 27. The third passage cited by Paul is taken from the Sixteenth Psalm, which is in reality one of the Messianic psalms. This is the psalm Peter in his first sermon on the day of Pentecost more fully explains, drawing from it the irresistible conclusion, so apparent in his own words, that Christ indeed has died; not, however, to become victim to decay in the tomb, but, proof against mortal destruction and hurt, to arise on the third day. _Easter Wednesday_ ALSO SUITED TO EASTER TUESDAY. Text: Colossians 3, 1-7. 1 If then ye were raised together with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated on the right hand of God. 2 Set your mind on the things that are above, not on the things that are upon the earth. 3 For ye died, and your life is hid with Christ in God. 4 When Christ, who is our life, shall be manifested, then shall ye also with him be manifested in glory. 5 Put to death therefore your members which are upon the earth; fornication, uncleanness, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry; 6 for which things' sake cometh the wrath of God upon the sons of disobedience: 7 wherein ye also once walked, when ye lived in these things. EXHORTATION TO TRULY GOOD WORKS. 1. We have been hearing of the glorious message of Christ's resurrection, how that resurrection took place and how we must believe, for our own blessing, comfort and salvation. Now, that we may be sincerely thankful to God for this inestimable blessing, and that our attitude toward the doctrine of the resurrection may be one to truly honor and glorify it, we must hear also, and practice, the apostles' teaching of its essential fruits, and must manifest them in our lives. Therefore, we will select Paul's admonition to the Colossians (ch. 3), which has to do with this topic particularly. Observe here, Paul exhorts Christians to be incited by the resurrection of Christ unto works truly good and becoming; the text declares unto us the supreme blessing and happiness the resurrection brings within our reach--remission of sins and salvation from eternal death. Lest, however, our wanton, indolent nature deceive itself by imagining the work is instantaneously wrought in ourselves, and that simply to receive the message is to exhaust the blessing, Paul always adds the injunction to examine our hearts to ascertain whether we rightly apprehend the resurrection truth. HOW WE ARE RISEN WITH CHRIST. 2. By no means are we simply to assent to the words of the doctrine. Christ does not design that we be able merely to accept and speak intelligently of it, but that its influence be manifest in our lives. How is a dead man profited, however much life may be preached to him, if that preaching does not make him live? Or of what use is it to preach righteousness to a sinner if he remain in sin? or to an erring, factious individual if he forsake not his error and his darkness? Even so, it is not only useless but detrimental, even pernicious in effect, to listen to the glorious, comforting and saving doctrine of the resurrection if the heart has no experience of its truth; if it means naught but a sound in the ears, a transitory word upon the tongue, with no more effect upon the hearer than as if he had never heard. According to Paul in the text, this nobly-wrought and precious resurrection of Christ essentially must be, not an idle tale of fancy, futile as a dead hewn-stone or painted-paper image, but a powerful energy working in us a resurrection through faith--an experience he calls being risen with Christ; in other words, it is dying unto sin, being snatched from the power of death and hell and having life and happiness in Christ. In the second chapter (verse 12), the apostle puts it plainly, "buried with him in baptism, wherein ye were also raised with him through faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead." 3. If, Paul says, ye have apprehended by faith the resurrection of Christ and have received its power and consolation, and so are risen with him, that resurrection will surely be manifest in you; you will feel its power, will be conscious of its working within. The doctrine will be something more than words; it will be truth and life. For them who do not thus apprehend the resurrection, Christ is not yet risen, although his rising is none the less a fact; for there is not within them the power represented by the words "being risen with Christ," the power which renders them truly dead and truly risen men. So Paul's intent is to make us aware that before we can become Christians, this power must operate within us; otherwise, though we may boast and fancy ourselves believing Christians, it will not be true. The test is, are we risen in Christ--is his resurrection effective in us? Is it merely a doctrine of words, or one of life and operating power? 4. Now, what is the process of the life and death mentioned? How can we be dead and at the same time risen? If we are Christians we must have suffered death; yet the very fact that we are Christians implies that we live. How is this paradox to be explained? Indeed, certain false teachers of the apostles' time understood and explained the words in a narrow sense making them mean that the resurrection of the dead is a thing of the past according to Paul's words in Second Timothy 1, 10, and that there is no future resurrection from temporal death. The believer in Christ, they said, is already risen to life; in all Christians the resurrection is accomplished in this earthly life. They sought to prove their position by Paul's own words, thus assailing the article of the resurrection. 5. But we will ignore these teachers as being condemned by Paul, and interpret the words as he meant them, his remarks both preceding and following making it clear and unquestionable that he refers to the spiritual resurrection. This fact is certain: If we are, at the last day, to rise bodily, in our flesh and blood, to eternal life, we must have had a previous spiritual resurrection here on earth. Paul's words in Romans 8, 11 are: "But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwelleth in you, he that raised up Christ Jesus from the dead shall give life also to your mortal bodies through his Spirit that dwelleth in you." In other words: God having quickened, justified and saved you spiritually, he will not forget the body, the building or tabernacle of the living spirit; the spirit being in this life risen from sin and death, the tabernacle, or the corruptible flesh-and-blood garment, must also be raised; it must emerge from the dust of earth, since it is the dwelling-place of the saved and risen spirit, that the two may be reunited unto life eternal. 6. The apostle, then, is not in this text referring to the future resurrection of the body, but to the spiritual rising which entails the former. He regards as one fact the resurrection of the Lord Christ, who brought his body again from the grave and entered into life eternal, and the resurrection of ourselves, who, by virtue of his rising, shall likewise be raised: first, the soul, from a trivial and guilty life shall rise into a true, divine and happy existence; and second, from this sinful and mortal body shall rise out of the grave an immortal, glorious one. So Paul terms believing Christians both "dead" and "alive." They are spiritually dead in this life and also spiritually alive. Nevertheless, this sinful temporal life must yet come to an end in physical death, for the destruction of the sin and death inherent therein, that body and spirit may live forever. Therefore he says: "If then ye were raised together with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated on the right hand of God." 7. In other words: Seek and strive after what is above--the things divine, heavenly and eternal; not the terrestrial, perishable, worldly. Make manifest the fact that you are now spiritually raised and by the same power will later be raised bodily. 8. But does this mean that we, as Christians, are no more to eat and drink, to till the ground, to attend to domestic or public duties, or to engage in any kind of labor? Are we to live utterly idle, practically dead? Is that what you mean, Paul, when you say we are not to seek the things of earth, though all these are essentially incident to life? What can you say to the fact that Christ the Lord is, himself, with us on earth? for he said before his ascension to heaven (Mt 28, 20): "Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world"; and also the baptism which he commands, the sacrament and the office of Gospel ministry whereby he governs his Church here--these are things of earth. 9. Paul, however, explains in the succeeding verse what he means by "things that are upon the earth" and "things that are above." He is not telling us to despise earthly objects. He does not refer to God's created things, all which are good, as God himself considered them; nor has he reference to the Christian who, in his earthly life, must deal with the things of creation. He has in mind the individual without knowledge of God; who knows no more, and aims no further, than reason teaches, that reason received from parents at physical birth; who is an unbeliever, ignorant of God and the future life and caring not for them; who follows only natural understanding and human desire and seeks merely personal benefit, honor, pride and pleasure. The apostle calls that a worldly life where the Word of God is lacking, or at least is disregarded, and where the devil has rule, impelling to all vices. Paul would say: Ye must be dead to a worldly life of this sort, a life striven after by the heathen, who disregard God's Word and suffer the devil to have his way with them. Ye must prove the resurrection of Christ in you to be something more than vain words. Ye must show there is a living power manifest in you because ye are risen, a power which makes you lead a different life, one in obedience to the Word and will of God, and called the divine, heavenly life. Where this change does not take place, it is a sign ye are not yet Christians but are deceiving yourselves with vain fancies. 10. Under the phrase "things that are upon the earth"--worldly things--Paul includes not only gross, outward vices, sins censurable in the eyes of the world, but also greater immoralities; everything, in fact, not in accordance with the pure Word of God, faith and true Christian character. SPIRITUAL AND CARNAL WORLDLINESS. 11. In order to a better understanding of the text, we shall adopt Paul's customary classification of life as spiritual and carnal. Life on earth is characterized as of the spirit, or spiritual; and of the flesh, or carnal. But the spiritual life may be worldly. The worldly spiritual life is represented by the vices of false and self-devised doctrine wherein the soul lives without the Word of God, in unbelief and in contempt of God; or, still worse, abuses the Word of God and the name of Christ in false doctrine, making them a cover and ornament for wicked fraud, using them falsely under a show of truth, under pretense of Christian love. This is worldly conduct of the spiritual kind. It is always the worst, ever the most injurious, since it is not only personal sin, but deceives others into like transgression. Paul refers, in the epistle lesson for Easter, to this evil as the "old leaven" and the "leaven of wickedness." And in Second Corinthians 7, 1, he makes the same classification of spiritual and carnal sin, saying, "Let us cleanse ourselves from all defilement of flesh and spirit." By defilement of the spirit he means those secret, subtle vices wherewith man pollutes and corrupts his inner life in the sight of God; his sins not being manifest to the world, but deceiving human reason and wisdom. 12. If we would be Christians we must, first of all, be dead to conduct of this sort. We must not receive nor tolerate the worldly doctrine and corrupt inventions originating with ourselves, whether in the nature of reason, philosophy or law, theories ignoring the Word of God or else falsely passing under its name. For such are wholly of the world; under their influence man has no regard to God's will and seeks not his kingdom and eternal life. They are meant merely to further the individual's own honor, pride, renown, wisdom, holiness or something else. Though boast is made of the Gospel and of faith in Christ, yet it is not serious, and the individual continues without power and without fruit. 13. If we are risen with Christ through faith, we must set our affections upon things not earthly, corruptible, perishable, but upon things above--the heavenly, divine, eternal; in other words, upon doctrine right, pure and true, and whatever is pleasing to God, that his honor and Christ's kingdom may be preserved. Thus shall we guard ourselves against abuse of God's name, against false worship and false trust and that presumption of self-holiness which pollutes and defrauds the spirit. 14. Under carnal worldliness Paul includes the gross vices, enumerating in particular here, fornication, uncleanness, covetousness, and so on, things which reason knows to be wicked and condemns as such. The spiritual sins take reason captive and deceive it, leaving it powerless to guard against them. They are termed spiritual sins not simply because of their spirit-polluting character, for all vices pollute the spirit, the carnal vices among them; but because they are too subtle for flesh and blood to discern. The sins of the flesh, however, are called carnal, or body-polluting, because committed by the body, in its members. Now, as we are to be dead unto spiritual sins, so are we to be dead unto carnal sins, or at least to make continual progress toward that end, striving ever to turn away from all such earthly things and to look toward the heavenly and divine. He who continues to seek carnal things and to be occupied with them, has not as yet with Christ died unto the world. Not having died, he is not risen; the resurrection of Christ effects nothing in him. Christ is dead unto him and he unto Christ. 15. Paul's admonition is particularly necessary at the present time. We see a large and constantly-increasing number who, despite their boast of the Gospel and their certain knowledge of the polluting and condemning power of spiritual and carnal sins, continue in their evil course, forgetful of God's wrath, or endeavoring to trust in false security. Indeed, it is a very common thing for men to do just as they please and yet pretend innocence and seek to avoid censure. Some would represent themselves guileless as lambs and blameless; no act of theirs may be regarded evil or even wrong. They pretend great virtue and Christian love. Yet they carry on their insidious, malicious frauds, imposing falsehoods upon men. They ingeniously contrive to make their conduct appear good, imagining that to pass as faultless before men and to escape public censure means to deceive God also. But they will learn how God looks upon the matter. Paul tells us (Gal 6, 7) God will not, like men, be mocked. To conceal and palliate will not avail. Nothing will answer but dying to vice and then striving after what is virtuous, divine and becoming the Christian character. 16. Paul enumerates some gross and unpardonable vices--fornication, or unchastity, and covetousness. He speaks also of these in Ephesians 5, 3-5 and in First Thessalonians 4, 3-7, as we have heard in the epistle lessons for the second and third Sundays in Lent. He enjoins Christians to guard against these sins, to be utterly dead to them. For they are sensual, acknowledged such even among the gentiles; while we strive after the perfect purity becoming souls who belong to Christ and in heaven. It is incumbent upon the Christian to preserve his body modest, and holy or chaste; to refrain from polluting himself by fornication and other unchastity, after the manner of the world. 17. Similarly does the apostle forbid covetousness, to which he gives the infamous name of idolatry in the effort to make it more hideous in the Christian's eyes, to induce him to shun it as an abominable vice intensely hated of God. It is a vice calculated to turn a man wholly from faith and from divine worship, until he regards not, nor seeks after, God and his Word and heavenly treasures, but follows only after the treasures of earth and seeks a god that will give him enough of earthly good. 18. Much might be said on this topic were we to consider it relative to all orders and trades in succession. For plainly the world, particularly in our day, is completely submerged in the vice of covetousness. It is impossible to enumerate the subtle arts it can invent, and the good and beautiful things it knows how to pass off whereunder it masks itself as a thing not to be considered sinful, but rather extremely virtuous and indicative of uprightness. And so idolatry ever does. While before God it is the worst abomination, before the world its appearance and reputation are superior. So far from being recognized as sin, it is considered supreme holiness and divine worship. The very worship of Mammon wears an imposing mask. It must not be called covetousness or dishonest striving after property, but must be known as upright, legitimate endeavor to obtain a livelihood, a seeking to acquire property honestly. It ingeniously clothes itself with the Word of God, saying God commands man to seek his bread by labor, by his own exertions, and that every man is bound to provide for his own household. No civil government, no, nor a preacher even, can censure covetousness under that guise unless it be betrayed in gross robbing and stealing. 19. Let every man know that his covetousness will be laid to the charge of his own conscience, that he will have to answer for it, for God will not be deceived. It is evident the vice is gaining ground. With its false appearance and ostentation, and its world-wide prevalence, it is commonly accepted as legal. Without censure or restraint, men are engrossed in coveting and accumulating to the utmost. Those having position and power think they have the right to acquire by violence as much as they can, daily making assessments and imposts, and new oppressions and impositions upon the poor. And the common rabble seek gain by raising prices, by extortion, fraud, and so on. Yet all desire not to be charged with wrong-doing; they would not they should be called unchristian on account of their conduct. Indeed, such excess of covetousness obtains that the public robbing and stealing, and the faithlessness and fraud, of the meanest hirelings, servants and maids everywhere can no longer be restrained. 20. But who would care to recount the full extent of this vice in all dealings and interests of the world between man and man? Enough has been said to induce every one who aims to be a Christian to examine his own heart and, if he find himself guilty of such vice, to refrain; if not, to know how to guard against it. Every individual can readily perceive for himself what is consistent with Christian character in this respect, what can be allowed with a good conscience; for he has Christ's rule of dealing as we would be dealt with, which insures equality and justice. Where unfairness exists, covetousness must obtain to some extent. 21. If you will not desist from the vice of covetousness, then know you are not a Christian, not a believer, but, as Paul calls you, a base, detestable idolater, having no part in God's kingdom; for you are living wholly to the world and without intent to rise with Christ. You will receive no blessing from the joy-inspiring and gracious revelation that Christ died and rose for sinners. You cannot say, "Therefore he died for me, I trust." Truly, Christ died for you, but if you continue in your wickedness, using this revelation as a cloak for your mean covetousness, do not--such is the declaration of the text--by any means apply that comforting promise to yourself. Although Christ indeed died and rose for all, yet unto you he is not risen; you have not apprehended his resurrection by faith. You have seen the smoke but have not felt the fire; you have heard the words but have received nothing of their power. THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 22. If you would be able honestly to boast of this revelation as unto you, if you would have the comfort of knowing that Christ, through his death and resurrection, has blessed you, you must not continue in your old sinful life, but put on a new character. For Christ died and rose for the very purpose of effecting your eventual death with him and your participation in his resurrection: in other words, he died that you might be made a new man, beginning even now, a man like unto himself in heaven, a man having no covetous desire or ambition for advantage over a neighbor, a man satisfied with what God grants him as the result of his labor, and kind and beneficent to the needy. 23. In his desire to arouse Christians to the necessity of guarding against such vices as he mentions, Paul strengthens his admonition, in conclusion, by grave threats and visions of divine wrath, saying, "for which things' sake cometh the wrath of God upon the sons of disobedience"; that is, upon the unbelieving world, which regards not the Word of God, does not fear or believe in it nor strive to obey it, and yet is unwilling to be charged with idolatry and other unchristian principles, desiring rather to be considered righteous and God's own people. In the last quoted clause Paul also implies that worldly conduct, the life of worldly lusts such as covetousness and other vices, is inconsistent and impossible with faith, and that the power of Christ's resurrection cannot reach it. For this reason he terms them "sons of disobedience," who have not faith and who, by their unchristian conduct, bring God's wrath upon themselves and are cast out from the kingdom of God. God seriously passes sentence against such conduct, declaring he will reveal his wrath against it in bodily punishment in this world and eternal punishment in the world hereafter. Elsewhere Paul says practically the same thing (Eph 5, 6): "For because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the sons of disobedience." See also Rom 1, 18. 24. Such is the admonition of Paul unto all who would be called Christians. He reminds them whereunto the Gospel of Christ calls them and what his resurrection should work in them--death to all life and doctrine not in harmony with God's Word and God's will--and that if they believe in the risen and living Christ, they, as risen with him, should seek after the same heavenly life where he sits at the right hand of God, a life where is no sin nor worldly error, but eternal life and imperishable treasures to be possessed and enjoyed with Christ forever. 25. But the revelation of Christ's resurrection can be apprehended by nothing but faith. The things Paul here tells us of life and glory for Christians in the risen Christ are not apparent to the world; in fact, Christians themselves do not perceive them by external sense. Notice, he says, "Ye died, and your life is hid with Christ in God." The world does not understand the Christian life and has no word of praise for it; it is hostile to the faith and cannot tolerate the fact that you believe in Christ and refuse to join hands with it in love for worldly lusts. A hidden life indeed is the Christian's; not only hidden to the world, but, so far as external perception goes, to the Christian himself. Nevertheless, it is a life sure and in safe keeping, and in the hereafter its glory shall be manifest to all the world. For Paul says: "When Christ, who is our life, shall be manifested, then shall ye also with him be manifested in glory." 26. Here is comfort for Christians in this earthly life where, though they receive the doctrine of Christ and apprehend him by faith, their resurrection seems to the world and to their own perceptions untrue; where they must contend with sin and infirmities and moreover are subject to much affliction and adversity; and where consequently they are extremely sensible of death and terror when they would experience joy and life. In this verse Paul comforts them, showing them where to seek and surely apprehend their life. 27. Be of good cheer, he would say, for ye are dead to the worldly life. This life ye must renounce, but in so doing ye make a precious exchange. Dying unto the world is a blessed experience, for which ye will obtain a life far more glorious. Ye are now, through Christ's death, redeemed from sin and from death eternal and are made imperishable. Upon you is conferred everlasting glory. But this risen life ye cannot yet perceive in yourselves; ye have it in Christ, through faith. Christ is spoken of as "our life." Though the life is still unrevealed to you, it is certain, insured to you beyond the power of any to deprive you of it. By faith in Christ's life, then, are ye to be preserved and to obtain victory over the terrors and torments of sin, death and the devil, until that life shall be revealed in you and made manifest to men. In Christ ye surely possess eternal life. Nothing is lacking to a perfect realization except that the veil whereby it is hidden so long as we are in mortal flesh and blood, is yet to be removed. Then will eternal life be revealed. Then all worldly, terrestrial things, all sin and death, will be abolished. In every Christian shall be manifest only glory. Christians, then, believing in Christ, and knowing him risen, should comfort themselves with the expectation of living with him in eternal glory; the inevitable condition is that they have first, in the world, died with him. 28. Paul does not forget to recognize the earthly environment of Christians and saints, for he says: "Put to death therefore your members which are upon the earth." Though acknowledging Christians dead with Christ unto worldly things and possessing life in Christ, he yet tells them to mortify their members on earth, and enumerates the sins of fornication, covetousness, etc. This is truly a strange idea, that it should be necessary for men who have died and risen with Christ and hence have been made really holy, to mortify worldly inclinations in their bodily members. The apostle refers to this subject in Romans 7: 5, 8, 23, and elsewhere, frequently explaining how, in the saints, there continue to remain various lusts of original sin, which constantly rise in the effort to break out, even gross external vices. These have to be resisted. They are strong enough utterly to enslave a man, to subject him to the deepest guilt, as Paul complains (Rom 7, 23); and they will surely do it unless the individual, by faith and the aid of the Holy Spirit, oppose and conquer them. 29. Therefore, saints must, by a vigorous and unceasing warfare, subdue their sinful lusts if they would not lose God's grace and their faith. Paul says in Romans 8, 13: "If ye live after the flesh, ye must die; but if by the Spirit ye put to death the deeds of the body, ye shall live." In order, then, to retain the Spirit and the incipient divine life, the Christian must contend against himself. This cannot be accomplished by the monastic hypocrisies wherewith some expect to resist sin. For the pollution of sin is not merely something adhering to the clothing, or to the skin externally, and easily washed off. It is not something to be discharged from the body by fasting and castigation. No, it penetrates the flesh and blood and is diffused through the whole man. Positive mortification is necessary or it will destroy one. And this is how to mortify sin: It must be perceived with serious displeasure and repented of; and through faith Christ's forgiveness must be sought and found. Thus shall sinful inclinations be resisted, defeated and restrained from triumphing over you. More has been said on this topic elsewhere. _Sunday After Easter_ Text: First John 5, 4-12. 4 For whatsoever is begotten of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that hath overcome the world, even our faith. 5 And who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God? 6 This is he that came by water and blood, even Jesus Christ; not with the water only, but with the water and with the blood. 7 And it is the Spirit that beareth witness, because the Spirit is the truth. 8 For there are three who bear witness, the Spirit, and the water, and the blood: and the three agree in one. 9 If we receive the witness of men, the witness of God is greater: for the witness of God is this, that he hath borne witness concerning his Son. 10 He that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in him: he that believeth not God hath made him a liar; because he hath not believed in the witness that God hath borne concerning his Son. 11 And the witness is this, that God gave unto us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. 12 He that hath the Son hath the life; he that hath not the Son of God hath not the life. VICTORIOUS FAITH. 1. This epistle selection was primarily arranged for this particular Sunday because it treats of baptism and of the new birth of the believing Christian. It was in former time customary in the Church to baptize immediately after Easter those who had accepted the Christian faith and had been instructed in its precepts. This day is also called "Dominicam in albis," and by us Germans "Weiszer Sonntag" (White Sunday), because the candidates for baptism were clad in white linen as indicative of their cleansing and new birth; just as today children to be baptized are arrayed in a white christening-robe. THE NEW BIRTH. 2. While this lesson does not treat of the resurrection of Christ, it has reference to its fruits: faith, the very essence of Christianity, here expressed as being born of God; and the evidence of the Holy Spirit, received through baptism, which assures us we are children of God and have, through Christ, eternal life and all blessings. 3. Though John's language is, as usual, plain and simple, yet, in the ears of men generally, it is unusual and unintelligible. The world estimates it as similar to the prattle of children or fools. What, according to the world's construction, is implied by the statement, "Whatsoever is begotten [born] of God overcometh the world?" Overcoming the world, the unconverted would understand to mean bringing into subjection to oneself every earthly thing and assuming the position of sovereign of the world. Yet more absurd in the ears of this class is the saying that we must be born of God. "Did one ever hear of such a thing," they might exclaim, "as children born of God? It would be less ridiculous to say we must be born of stones, after the idea of the heathen poets." To the world there is no birth but physical birth. Hence such doctrine as our lesson sets forth will ever be strange, unintelligible, incomprehensible, to all but Christians. But the latter speak with new tongues, as Christ in the last chapter of Mark (verse 17) says they shall, for they are taught and enlightened by the Holy Spirit. 4. Clearly, then, when the Scriptures speak of being born of God, it is not in a human sense; the reference is not to the conditions of our temporal lives, but to those exalted ones of a future existence. To say we must be born of God is equivalent to saying that if man is to be redeemed from sin and eternal death, to enter into the kingdom of God and into happiness, his physical birth will not suffice; all which nature, reason, free-will and human endeavor may afford is inadequate. Physical birth, it is true, answers for everything in the way of temporal possession and achievement, everything great, powerful, noble, rich, wise, learned; in short, every exalted and desirable thing of earth. But all such possession and achievement serves only the physical existence; it is swept away by death, to which event it is ever subject. Hence becomes necessary a new and different birth, a birth more significant than that of the natural man even in the case of emperors, kings, or the wisest and most influential of earth. For as Isaiah says (ch. 40, 6): "All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth." The demand is for a divine birth, a birth in which parentage is wholly of God; a birth signifying the operation of God's divine power in man, a power achieving something beyond the attainment of his natural capacities and effecting in him new understanding and a new heart. 5. The process is this: When the individual hears the Gospel message of Christ--a message revealed and proclaimed not by the wisdom and will of man, but through the Holy Spirit--and sincerely believes it, he is justly recognized as conceived and born of God. John in his gospel (ch. 1, 12) says: "As many as received him, to them gave he the right to become children of God, even to them that believe on his name." And in the first verse of the chapter including our text, he tells us: "Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ is begotten of God." Through that faith, for the sake of his Son, God accepts us as his children, pleasing to him and heirs of eternal life; and the Holy Spirit will be sent into our hearts, as is explained later. 6. This doctrine condemns those arrogant teachers who presumptuously expect to be justified before God by their own merits and works. They imagine that their wisdom, learning, good judgment, intelligence, fair reputation and morality entitle them, because of the good they are thus enabled to do, to the favor of God and to reception up into heaven. But the Scriptures clearly teach the very reverse, that all these things are nothing in the eyes of God. It is sheer human effort; it is not being born of God. However wise and powerful you might be, if even the noblest, most beautiful, fruit human nature can produce, you could not see the kingdom of God unless you became a wholly different person, unless you were born anew, according to Christ's words in John 3, 3. And this is something impossible to your natural powers. You certainly cannot make yourself of other parentage than you are. God must begin the work in you, communicating his seed--his Word--by virtue of which the Holy Spirit operates in you, enabling you, by faith, to cling to the promise, as said before. 7. Now, he who is thus born of God, John declares, overcomes the world. Verily, this is a significant and forcible assertion the Holy Spirit makes; it represents a tremendous power, a great work. The child of God must, indeed, attempt and accomplish great things. The birth effected through the Word and faith makes men true sovereigns, above all earthly rulers; it gives them power even to overcome the world, something impossible to any Roman or Turkish potentate. They effect not their victory by physical force or temporal power, but by the spiritual birth, through faith. As John says immediately after the clause we are discussing, "This is the victory that hath overcome the world, even our faith." Here is his own explanation of what he means by being born of God. THE TWO KINGDOMS. 8. Now, in order to understand the nature of the spiritual victory and how it is effected, we must know just what John means by the term "world." The reference is not to dominion over territory, to property or money. He implies the existence of two kingdoms. In one, the kingdom of God, the heavenly kingdom of Christ, is included, first, the angels in heaven, who are the chief lords, the inner circle of counselors; second, the entire Christian Church on earth, under one head, Christ the Lord and King. In the other kingdom, the hellish kingdom, the devil is prince, and his mighty counselors and servants are the angels who with him fell from heaven; it also includes the world, those on earth who teach, believe and live contrary to Christ, who represent the heathen, the Jews, the Turks and false Christians. By the heavenly kingdom of God we must understand, not only spiritual life and godly people, but the lord and regent of that kingdom--Christ with his angels, and his saints both living and dead. Thus, too, the kingdom of the world represents not only the earthly life with its worldly interests, but particularly its lord and regent--the devil and his angels, and all unchristian, godless, wicked people on earth. So, when John says, "Whatsoever is begotten of God overcometh the world," he means by "world" the devil and his whole earthly dominion. 9. Now, the workings of these two kingdoms are plainly evident, though the leaders--Christ the Lord, and the devil--are not visible to mortal eyes. Christ rules direct and effectually, in his own power, through the Word and through the Holy Spirit in the hearts of believers, maintaining them in the faith and in the knowledge of his Word, and protecting from the devil's wrath and subtlety; further, he rules through his angels, who guard his followers; again, he rules through his people themselves, who exercise authority one over another in loving service, each teaching, instructing, comforting and admonishing a noble little band of godly, obedient, patient, chaste, kind, tractable, benevolent souls. The nature of the devil's kingdom, the manner of life the world leads, is easily apparent. This kingdom is simply a huge booth filled with faithless, shameless, wicked individuals, impelled by their god to every sort of disobedience, ingratitude and contempt of God and his Word; to idolatry, false doctrine, persecution of Christians and the practice of all wantonness, mischief, wickedness and vice. 10. These two kingdoms are opposed. They continually contend for the crown; they war with each other for supremacy. Christians are brought into the conflict to hold the field against God's enemy, whose rule of the world is one of falsehood and murder; they must contend with the enemy's servants, his horde of factious spirits and basely wicked individuals, in an effort to restrain evil and promote good. Christians must be equipped for the fray; they must know how to meet and successfully resist the enemy, how to carry the field unto victory, and hold it. FAITH THE VICTOR. 11. Therefore, when John says, "Whatsoever is begotten of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that hath overcome the world, even our faith," his purpose is to admonish Christians that believers must manifest the power and working of faith in life and deed. In fact, his chief aim in writing this text was to reprove false Christians who are pleased to hear the doctrine that we are saved through Christ alone, our works and merits not earning our salvation; and who imagine the hearing of this doctrine constitutes them Christians and that there is no necessity for any effort or contention on their part. They forget that they must, through faith, become new persons fitted to overcome the world and the devil. 12. Victory over the devil is the sign of the true Christian. Thereby we may know men are born of God, may distinguish them from the false children who enjoy but the semblance of God's Word and never experience its power. Such are mere "mondkinder" (moon-children)--still-born, destitute of real divine life, or divine power. It cannot be said we have been born of God when we continue in our old dead and worldly course, and as before lie and live in sin at the devil's pleasure. No, as children of God we must resist the devil and his entire kingdom. If, then, instead of overcoming the world you allow it to overcome you, then, boast as you may of faith and Christ, your own conduct testifies that you are not a child of God. To illustrate, beginning with some of the lower and grosser sins: If you boast of being a child of God, but still live in fornication, adultery, and such vices, the devil has already overcome you and wrested you from the kingdom of God. If you are miserly, injuring your neighbor by usury, by overcharging, by false wares and fraudulent business, you have permitted the world and your own flesh to overcome you for a penny. If you entertain envy and hatred toward your neighbor, you are at once thereby a captive servant of the devil. The same principle holds in the case of sins more subtle and refined, where the malicious knavery of the devil must be resisted. For instance, the devil deceives with misleading doctrines, impelling men to idolatry, false faith, presumption, despair, blasphemy, and so on. Now, if you yield to him, suffering yourself to be seduced, what will it profit you to boast of the Gospel faith? for you have not properly grasped God's Word, you have not rightly recognized God in Christ, but continue in error, in false fancies, captivated and deceived by the devil. 13. It requires something more than mere human wisdom and skill, more than human power, to withstand and overcome an enemy so formidable as the devil. As said before, the Christian must be fortified with the knowledge of how to guard against his wiles and deceptions and how to withstand him. Hence a Christian is called a person who is born of God. He must be different from an intelligent heathen and a skillful worldling to rightly understand God's Word and apprehend Christ through faith, and must use such knowledge as weapons of offense and defense in the conflict. Thus will he be able to withstand the devil and the world and to gain the victory. God's Word and faith are the power which will bring him through; he cannot be overcome so long as he adheres to them. In this connection are John's words immediately preceding our text: "This is the love of God, that we keep his commandments; and his commandments are not grievous." Then he goes on, "For whatsoever is begotten of God overcometh the world," etc. Such is the power represented by genuine new birth, that therein the devil, the world and all evil are overcome. Just as, in physical birth, a normal child fully born into the world may overcome a slight offensive disease, while an abnormal or still-born child perishes of its own weakness. 14. For example, if I have faith and am born of God, I will not pollute myself with unchastity and fornication, I will not bring disgrace upon another's spouse or child. The new birth will indeed teach me not to reject shamefully the treasure I have in Christ, not to lose it willingly, and not to drive from me the indwelling Holy Spirit. Faith, if it truly dwells in me, will not permit me to do aught in violation of my conscience and of the Word and the will of God. Should I be tempted by avarice to deceive and defraud my neighbor, or to close my hand when I should give him aid, if I am a Christian and born anew my faith will protest and turn me from such action. Can I injure my neighbor or permit him to suffer want when I might contribute to his relief, if I am aware that Christ has given his body and shed his blood for me? How can there enter into the heart of the Christian who believes he has received ineffable and eternal treasures through the Son of God, the inclination to permit his neighbor to suffer a trivial want when he can easily extend relief? Much less would it be possible for the Christian to injure or to do injustice to his neighbor for the sake of shamefully gaining some small advantage. Rather he would reflect: "If I am, through Christ, a child of God and an heir of heaven, the sum of this world's goods is far too insignificant to induce me, for the sake of a penny, to deceive or defraud anyone." Then, too, if the devil tempt you by his tyrannical, factious spirits, or even by your own thoughts, to forsake your pure doctrine for his deceptions, you as a Christian are to resist the temptation, remembering the blessings you have through faith received from Christ in the Gospel; you have been liberated from darkness, blindness and error; have learned rightly to know God; and have obtained the sure consolation of grace and salvation, being aware upon what you must depend in life and death. Why, then, yield to the devil, allowing yourself to be robbed of salvation and eternal life? Why not much rather let go every earthly thing than to deny the Word of God or to permit this blessed consolation to be perverted, falsified and wrested from you? 15. So, then, John says, "This is the victory that hath overcome the world, even our faith." It is, indeed, saying very much for the Christian faith to attribute to it such power over the devil and the world--a power transcending all human ability. It requires an agency greater and higher than human strength to triumph over the devil, especially in the perplexing conflicts of conscience, when he vexes and tortures the heart with terror of God's wrath in the attempt to drive us to despair. At such times all our works must immediately sink out of sight, leaving no help or victory except the faith that clings to the word of Christ the Lord, believing that, for the sake of his beloved Son, God will be merciful and will not condemn us for our sins and unworthiness if we believe in him. Such faith as this stands fast and gains the victory; neither the devil nor the gates of hell can prevail against it. 16. The same is true in all temptations. Before we can resist and overcome, we must have faith to believe that through Christ we have remission of sins and the favor of God; that God gives us help and strength to enable us to stand in the conflict and successfully resist the devil, the world, the flesh and death; that we obtain the victory by the divine power of the Holy Spirit, lacking whose help we all would be far too weak to win. Without faith, we are under the power of the devil and sin, being subject to them by natural birth. We can be liberated in no other way than through faith in Christ. 17. That John has reference to faith in Christ is plainly evident from his query, "Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God?" The apostle's purpose therein is to make plain just what the true Scriptural faith is and what it implies. For there are other beliefs which the world calls faith. The Jews, the Turks, the Papists, claim they also believe in God who created heaven and earth. That such belief is not the true faith, however, is proved by the fact of its ineffectiveness. It does not contend and overcome, and it permits the believer to remain as he is, in his natural birth and under the power of the devil and sin. But the faith which believes Jesus is the Son of God is the true, triumphant sort. It is an invincible power wrought in the hearts of Christians by the Holy Spirit. It is a sure knowledge, that does not gaze and vacillate hither and thither according to its own thoughts. It apprehends God in Christ the Son sent from heaven, through whom God reveals his will and his love and transfers us from sin to grace, from death to a new and eternal life; a refuge and trust that relies not upon its own merit or worthiness, but upon Christ the Son of God, and in his might and power battles against the world and the devil. Therefore, the Christian faith is not the cold, ineffective, empty, lifeless conception which Papists and others imagine it to be; no, it is a living, active power, ever followed by victories and other appropriate fruits. Where such fruits are lacking, faith and the new birth are not there. THE SOURCE OF FAITH. 18. Thus we have the first part of our sermon on the new birth and faith. For the second part, John shows whence and by what means comes the faith productive of victory; he says: "This is he that came by water and blood, even Jesus Christ; not with the water only, but with the water and with the blood. And it is the Spirit that beareth witness, because the Spirit is the truth. For there are three who bear witness [in earth], the Spirit, and the water, and the blood," etc. 19. John speaks of Christ's kingdom, and of the office the Holy Spirit bears outwardly and visibly in the Christian Church, represented in the ministerial office and the sacraments. He says: "There are three who bear witness [in earth]." John, as usual, employs the word "witness" in connection with the thought of preaching; it is a word he frequently uses. For instance, in the beginning of his gospel, where he speaks of John the Baptist, he says (ch. 1, 7): "The same came for a witness, that he might bear witness of the light." So, in his use of the phrase "witness" or "bearing witness," we are to understand simply the public preaching of God's Word. Again, Christ says (John 16, 9-14), that the Holy Spirit shall bear witness of him; that is, he shall publicly fill the ministerial office. This is God's own witness to his Son. And here John tells us we have the victory over the devil and the world, through faith, for the sake of Christ the Son of God. 20. This witness Christ himself ordains shall ever go forth, and remain, in the Church. To this end Christ sent the Holy Spirit; to this end Christ himself called and gave the Holy Spirit to the apostles and their successors, ministers, preachers and teachers, as Paul tells us (Eph 4, 11-13), who are to exercise the Word, that the Word may resound always and everywhere in the world, reaching to children's children, and on down to future generations. Were the witness not in the Church, the pulpit--in fact, the entire outward administration of the Church--would be useless, for every man could read the Scriptures for himself. But for the sake of the uninstructed masses and the constantly rising young who, as yet in ignorance of the Word, need admonition--for the sake of these, the Spirit must bear public witness or administer the preaching office that they, too, may learn to know the grace of God manifest and given to us through Christ, and that God's wondrous works may be publicly recognized and extolled by us in opposition to the devil and the world. 21. Wherever such witness is borne, there certainly will be some fruit. The witness never fails of effect. Some surely will be reached; some will accept and believe it. Since it is the witness of the Holy Spirit, and the apostle says here, the Spirit beareth witness, he will be effective, producing in us that to which John refers when he says we are children of God, and have the victory and eternal life. So the Word--or the Gospel message accompanied by the witness of the Spirit--and faith are vitally related. In the last analysis they are inseparable. Without faith, preaching will be fruitless; and faith has origin in the Word alone. Therefore, we should gladly hear and handle the Word. Where it is, there is also the Holy Spirit; and where the Spirit is, there must be at least some believers. Even if you have already heard the Word and obtained faith, it will always continue to strengthen you as you hear it. One knows not at what hour God may touch and illumine his or another's heart. It may be in a time when we least look for it, or in the individual of whom we have least expectation. For the Spirit, as Christ says, breathes where he will, and touches hearts when and where he knows them to be receptive. 22. It is relative to the power and energy wrought by the Holy Spirit that John speaks, indicating the source and means of the power of this witness, when he says of Christ, "This is he that came by water and blood," etc. In this sentence is included all we possess in the kingdom of Christ, and here is extolled the efficacy of our beloved baptism and the blood or sufferings of Christ. Here John unites all the elements in one bundle, so to speak, making a triune witness. They bear joint witness to our faith and confirm it--these three: the water, the blood and the Spirit. BAPTISM BY WATER AND BLOOD. 23. Christ comes, first, "by water"; that is, by holy baptism. He employs baptism as an outward sign of his work in the new birth of man and in man's sanctification. This water by which Christ comes cannot be a mere, empty sign; for he comes not merely to cleanse or bathe the body with water, but to purify the whole man from all pollution and blemishes inherent in him from Adam. Christ has instituted a cleansing wholly unlike the Mosaic ablutions under the Old Testament dispensation. Moses came with various laws relating to washings and purifications, but they were only cleansings of the body or of the flesh and had daily to be repeated. Now, since these ceremonials contributed nothing to man's purification in God's sight--a thing to be effected by nothing short of a new birth--Christ came with a new order of cleansing, namely, baptism, which is not a mere external ablution from physical impurities, but a washing effective in man's purification from the inward pollution of his old sinful birth and from an evil conscience, and bringing remission of sin and a good conscience toward God, as Peter says. 1 Pet 3, 21. Paul, also (Tit 3, 5), calls baptism the "washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit." 24. Christ first instituted baptism through John the Baptist. To distinguish it from the Mosaic baptism, the old Jewish rite of washings, Christ styles it "a baptism unto repentance and the remission of sins." He designs that therein man shall perceive his inner impurities and know them to be, in God's sight, beyond the power of outward Mosaic ablutions to reach; shall know also that purification of the conscience and remission of sins must be sought and obtained through the power of Christ the Lord, who instituted baptism. 25. Secondly, that this cleansing of sin may be effected in us through baptism, something more than mere water must be present. Mere water could effect no more than do ordinary washings, and no more than Jewish and Turkish baptisms and washings effect. There must be a power and force accompanying the water effective to work inward purification, the purification of the soul. Therefore, John says, Christ came, not by water alone, but also by blood; not the blood of bulls, or of calves, or of goats, those Old Testament sacrifices, but his own blood, as Paul declares. Heb 9, 12. He comes through the preaching office of the New Testament, which is his rule upon earth, imparts to us the effective power of his shed blood, his sacrifice for our sins, and thus applies to us the treasure wherewith he purchased our redemption. 26. Hence there is now in baptism this efficacy of the blood of Christ. That is the true caustic soap which not only removes the uncleanness of the outer man, but penetrates to the inner nature, consuming its impurities and cleansing them away, that the heart may become pure in God's sight. Thus, the blood of Christ is so effectively mingled with the baptismal water that we must not regard it as mere water, but water beautifully dyed with the precious crimson blood of our dear Saviour, Christ. Baptism, then, cannot rightly be regarded a physical cleansing, like the Mosaic ablutions, or like the cleansing the bathhouse affords; it is a healing baptism, a baptism or washing with blood, instituted by none but Christ, the Son of God, and that through his own death. 27. In the record of Christ's passion, careful note is made of the fact that blood and water flowed immediately from the spear-thrust in Christ's side as he hung upon the cross; it is pointed out as a special miracle. The design there is to teach that Christ's shed blood is not without significance, but stands for a washing or bath whose efficacy is present in the baptism with water; and that from the slain body of Christ issues an unceasing stream of water and blood, flowing on down through the entire Christian Church, wherein we must all be cleansed from our sins. What makes baptism so precious, so holy and essential is the mingling and union of the water with the blood of Christ; to be baptized into Christ with water is really to be washed and cleansed with the blood of Christ. THE SPIRIT. 28. To these two John adds a third witness, "the Spirit." The Spirit bears witness with the water and the blood; in fact, through these other two he operates. It is the Holy Spirit himself; not as he is invisible up in heaven in his divine essence, but the Spirit who publicly manifests himself through his external office and permits himself to be heard through his Word. As John here asserts, the Spirit bears witness on earth with both the water and the blood. 29. Neither Moses nor any other teacher in his doctrines of personal effort and external purifications, his washings and his sprinklings of the blood of sheep and goats--no such teacher brings and gives the Spirit. With them is no Spirit, no divine power, no regeneration of man. Any unbelieving, spiritless, wicked knave can exercise human effort and practice physical cleansing. But Christ alone brings with him the power and presence of the Holy Spirit, who sanctifies us through the blood and water issuing from the divine side. The Spirit makes us partakers of its cleansing influence through the external office of preaching and through the sacraments, which are called the office and gifts of the Holy Spirit. Through these the Spirit works in the Christian Church just as he did at first, among the apostles on the Day of Pentecost, and will continue to do in the whole world, unto the last day. Without his ministration we would never obtain, nor know anything about, the saving power of Christ's blood in baptism. 30. Such is the kingdom Christ unceasingly develops through the Christian Church. In him we have eternal purification when to the water is added the Spirit, who through the Word enkindles the heart and purifies it, not with the cleansing qualities of the water alone, but with the healing efficacy of the blood of Christ, whereby sins are exterminated and God's wrath appeased. Although the work of our redemption was wrought once for all in Christ's blood shed upon the cross and is sufficient to cancel the sins of the entire world, yet Christ so instituted it that the same efficacy should remain forever, and be daily distributed and offered to us through the Holy Spirit. 31. This work of the Holy Spirit is neither received nor perceived except through faith in this witness, the preached word of Christ--when with the heart man grasps it and confidently believes it is fulfilled in himself as the Word declares. Thus is the heart really cleansed, the individual born anew, through the Holy Spirit present in the sacred cleansing of water and of the blood of Christ. Peter (1 Pet 1, 2) speaks of the sanctification of Christians as the "sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ" upon us by the Holy Spirit through the public preaching of the Gospel. This sprinkling radically differs from the Jewish sprinkling of water, or of the ashes of a red heifer, or of the blood of a dead lamb or goat, round about the altar and upon the applicants for purification. In the sanctification of Christians, the true consecrated water and the sprinkled blood of Christ are combined; that is, the message concerning the shed blood of our Lord Jesus Christ is "sprinkled," so to speak, upon the soul, and wherever that Word touches the soul it is effective. The blood in this case is not the ineffective, lifeless blood of a slain animal, but the potent, living blood of the Son of God. Under its application the soul cannot remain impure. Christ's blood purifies and heals from sin and death; it strikes at their very foundation, and entirely releases us from their power and grants us eternal life for soul and body. 32. Note, this text is a grand sermon on the witness Christians have here on earth, which the apostle in concluding explains and extols in beautiful and comforting words. He calls it a witness that God himself bears to his Son and that serves to assure us of being the children of God and possessors of eternal life. For he says: "And the witness is this, that God gave unto us eternal life," etc. This is indeed an excellent witness, which God himself witnesses and declares to you, and the Holy Spirit brings and reveals to you. God cannot lie nor deceive, he is the eternal, unchangeable truth, as already mentioned. If you believe this witness, you certainly have received and possess it, as John again says: "He that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in him." FAITH TO BE IMPLICIT. 33. The true, saving doctrine of the Christian faith is this: There must be witness and confidence of heart so absolute as to leave no room for doubt that, through Christ, we are God's children and have remission of sins and eternal life. By way of showing us how God earnestly enjoins such faith upon us and forbids us to have any doubts on the subject, John says, "He that believeth not God hath made him a liar; because he hath not believed in the witness that God hath borne concerning his Son." 34. This passage annihilates the pernicious, damnable, diabolical doctrine of the Papists, who shamelessly claim it is right to doubt and that a Christian should doubt his title to grace. This doctrine is equivalent to teaching the propriety of disbelieving the testimony of God. It is charging God with falsehood, dishonoring and blaspheming the Lord Christ, openly affronting the Holy Spirit, knowingly plunging people into unpardonable sins and blasphemies and consequently sending them to the devil without hope or comfort of salvation. 35. Such is the beautiful fruit of papistical doctrine; such is papistical holiness. This is what they who would be the Christian Church recommend to us. They would have us, with them, openly and fearlessly charge God with falsehood, trample his Word under foot and worship the devil in his stead. Further, they require us to praise and honor them and render them thanks, rejoicing to be offered their stipulated terms of friendship. At the same time they have not in a single instance repented of their abominable idolatry or acknowledged their error; rather they plume themselves on having in their purity taught no wrong. If we will not accede to their demands, we must be persecuted, put to death, exterminated everywhere in the world with fire and sword. But the devil and death may accede in our stead. Let the godly Christian desire and pray that God may hurl such accursed doctrine into the abyss of hell and punish as they deserve the impenitent blasphemers since they will not cease. And let all the people say, Amen, amen. 36. Note particularly the consolation of Paul's concluding words. Here he embraces in one clear word the whole substance of the Gospel when he says: "He that hath the Son hath the life; he that hath not the Son of God hath not the life." How could he speak plainer and more forcibly? What is the need of further inquiry and investigation or discussion of this theme? Do you wish to have assurance of eternal life? According to this verse, you have it truly if you possess Christ the Son of God; and you have Christ when you believe this witness and preaching as John says, and you should confidently rely upon it in life and in death as the divine, eternal truth. But if you believe not, you have not life; and all effort and suffering on your part, yes, combined with the effort and suffering of the whole world, will profit you nothing. You have not the Son of God if you do not believe God's witness of him but charge God with falsehood. _Second Sunday After Easter_ Text: First Peter 2, 20-25. 20 For what glory is it, if, when ye sin, and are buffeted for it, ye shall take it patiently? but if, when ye do well, and suffer for it, ye shall take it patiently, this is acceptable with God. 21 For hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that ye should follow his steps: 22 who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth: 23 who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously: 24 who his own self bare our sins in his body upon the tree, that we, having died unto sins, might live unto righteousness; by whose stripes ye were healed. 25 For ye were going astray like sheep; but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls. PATIENCE UNDER TRIBULATION. 1. This epistle lesson is a beautiful selection from apostolic teaching. Doubtless it was intentionally arranged for this Sunday; for Peter's concluding words, "For ye were going astray like sheep; but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls," accord with the gospel selection about the Good Shepherd. Yet it might also properly serve in part for the text of a sermon on the passion of Christ; for the sufferings of Christ are here presented as an example unto us. In the preceding part of the chapter, Peter taught the Christians how, having obtained faith, they are to exhibit its fruits--good works in the various stations of life. Particularly does he admonish them to manifest the fruit of patience under crosses and afflictions. 2. When the individual accepts Christ and begins to profess his faith in word and life, invariably--it cannot be otherwise--the world, that eternal enemy of Christ and faithfully-obedient servant of the devil, will be dissatisfied. The world regards it contemptible, disgraceful, to live any life but one pleasing to itself, to do and speak aught but as it desires. Its rage is excited toward the Christian and it proceeds to persecute, to torture, even to murder him when possible. We often hear the wiseacre scoffers say that Christ could have enjoyed peace had he desired to. The same may be said of Christians; they could have peace and pleasure if they would but take advice and conform to the world. 3. What are we to do? It is a fact that to maintain and obey the truth is to stir up wrath and hatred. Even the heathen assert as much. But the fault lies not with the advocate of truth but with its rejecters. Is the truth not to be preached at all? Must we be silent and permit all mankind to go direct to hell? Who could or would heap upon himself the guilt of such negligence? The godly Christian, who looks for eternal life after the present one and who aims to help others to attain unto the same happy goal, assuredly must act the part he professes, must assert his belief and show the world how it travels the broad road to hell and eternal death. And to do so is to antagonize the world and incur the displeasure of the devil. 4. Now, since there is no escaping the fact that he who would confess Christ and make the world better must, in return for his service and benefactions, heap upon himself the enmity of the devil and his adherents, as Peter says--since this is the case, we must remember that it is incumbent upon us to have patience when the world manifests its bitterest, most hateful enmity toward our doctrine and toward our very lives, when it reviles and slanders and persecutes us to the utmost for our principles. Peter here admonishes and persuades Christians unto patience under these circumstances, and at the same time seeks to comfort them with tender and impressive words. 5. First, Peter reminds the believers of their calling--of their reason and purpose in embracing Christianity. He says, in effect: "Remember, belief in Christ necessitates confession of him, and the entire Christian Church is numbered in the holy, divine calling that stands for the praise of God and the promotion of his kingdom." An essential feature of this calling is the suffering of evil in return for good. It seems inevitable that Christians be condemned in the eyes of the world and incur its highest displeasures; that they be destined to take up the gauntlet against the devil and the world. It is said (Ps 44, 22): "For thy sake are we killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter," or for the sacrifice. Sacrificial sheep were kept in an enclosure, not permitted to go to pasture with the others. They were not kept for breeding, but to be daily, one after another, slaughtered. 6. Paul would say: "What will you do, beloved Christians? Will you live in the world and not encounter any persecution because of your good deeds? Will you rage at the wickedness of the world, and in your rage become wicked yourself and commit evil? Understand, you are called to suffer persecutions; they are a consequence of your baptism, your Christianity. For these you renounced the devil and professed Christ. You are baptized unto the suffering of every sort of misfortune, unto the enduring of the world and the devil." You cannot escape the smoke when compelled to live in the inn where the devil is host and the whole house is filled with it. Again, if you would have fire, you must have smoke as a consequence; if you would be a Christian and a child of God, you must endure the resultant evils that befall you. 7. In short, the Christian, because he is a Christian, is subjected to the holy and precious cross. He must suffer at the hands of men and of the devil, who plague and provoke him; outwardly with misery, persecution, poverty and illness, or inwardly--in heart--with their poisonous darts. The cross is the Christian's sign and watchword in his holy, precious, noble and happy calling unto eternal life. To such a calling must we render full dues and regard as good whatever it brings. And why should we complain? Do not even wicked knaves and opposers of Christians often suffer at the hands of one another what they are not pleased to endure? And every man must frequently suffer injuries and misfortunes relative to body, property, wife and children. 8. Then, if you would be a Christian and live justly in your calling, be not so terribly alarmed, so filled with hostile rage, so extremely impatient, at the torments of the world and the devil. If you are unwilling to suffer and to be reviled and slandered, if you prefer honor and ease, then deny Christ and embrace the delights of the world and the devil. You will not, even then, be wholly free from suffering and sorrow, though it will be your prerogative not to suffer as a Christian and for the sake of Christ. At the same time, you will discover that even though you enjoy only pleasure on earth, it will be but for a brief time and ultimately you will find the bitter end of the pleasure sought. CHRIST OUR PATTERN. 9. In the second place, by way of rendering more impressive his admonition, Peter holds up the example of our real Master, our Leader and Lord, Christ, who endured persecutions similar to ours, and himself suffered more than any. The apostle refers to him in a truly scriptural way--as of a twin or dual character. He presents him not as an example of a saint in the ordinary sense, but as the real Shepherd and Bishop of our souls, who suffered for us, making sacrifice for our sins in his own body on the cross. In this capacity, he is our treasure, comfort and salvation. 10. The apostle beautifully and strikingly points out the sublime perfections of our Pattern, in his suffering, by way of gently urging us to patience. He presents the chief points of Christ's endurance, examples of real patience; all our sufferings, when compared with those of Christ, are cast into the shade. "The passion of Christ," Peter would say, "the suffering of the Lord, is a surpassing, a preëminent and sublimely glorious thing, transcending every other instance of suffering; first, because it was for an example to us; second, because he suffered to save us; third, because he suffered innocently in all respects, never having committed any sin." In these three points we must leave to him alone the distinction, humbling ourselves before them; even had we suffered death in its every form, we must cry that all our suffering is nothing in comparison with his. Even if we could attain to the sublimest, the supreme, the most glorious degree of suffering, it would be but walking in his footprints, following his example; it would be but to fall far short of his suffering. He would stand preëminent--the Master. He would maintain immeasurable superiority and we would still be left to follow as best we could. The extent of his agony, the intensity and bitterness of his sufferings, no one on earth can comprehend. And if it be beyond our comprehension, how much more is it beyond our power to imitate or experience. We may thank God we have it before us for an example to behold and follow. True, we fall far short of perfect following, but we may approach it in proportion to our sufferings, faith and patience; for one may exceed another in these things. Christ is an example, Peter says, for all saints; not for a certain few. Contrasted with Christ, all saints must with downcast eyes confess: "Intense, bitter, grievous as our sufferings truly are, when the sufferings of Christ our Lord are mentioned we will willingly keep silent; for no human example of suffering will compare with that of Christ." 11. Now, this one fact, that one so exalted as Christ himself, the only and eternal Son of God, has trod the path of suffering before us, enduring unlimited distress, agony transcending the power of humanity to experience--this alone should be enough to admonish and urge anyone to patiently endure affliction. Why, then, should we disciples, we who are so insignificant and inexperienced in comparison with our Master--why should we be at all troubled at any suffering for his sake? especially when all he asks of us is to follow him, to learn of him and to remain his disciples. Here, mark you, is the example set before the entire Christian Church, the pattern she is to follow to the extent of at least walking in Christ's steps, at the same time, however, remembering that her most intense sufferings are naught in comparison to a single drop of his shed blood, as we shall hear later. 12. Again, this example assumes its ineffable and inimitable character from the fact that Christ suffered not for himself, nor yet merely as an example, but in our stead. This act, to say the least, transcends all human ability. No saint can boast of equaling this example, can say he suffered for another as Christ suffered for our sins. No, here all boasting is summarily disposed of. In respect to atonement, Christ left us no example, for none can imitate him in that. He stands alone there. He alone was called to suffer for all men; for those individuals now called and holy, and for the still uncalled and sinners. 13. The atonement is the chief, the most exalted, article of the Christian doctrine. Faith alone apprehends it as the highest good, the greatest blessing, of our salvation, and recognizes that we cannot, by our works or our sufferings, do or merit anything in atoning for sin. The manner in which this subject is scripturally presented prohibits us from adding to it anything of human origin. But so the accursed popedom has done in the teachings of its pillars and supporters the monks, who regard the sufferings of Christ as merely an example to us. They pervert and render immaterial the fact that he suffered for us; they place the entire responsibility upon ourselves, as if we, by our own works or our suffering are to make satisfaction for our sins, to appease God's wrath and to merit grace. This is a doctrine not found in the Word of God, but is of their own trivial, self-selected, self-devised and false human teachings. 14. They have carried their untruthful, worthless inventions to the extent of claiming for the saints not only sufficient acquired merit for their own salvation, but a large accumulated surplus available for others, which they have bequeathed to the Pope, thus furnishing him with an abundant treasury. The Pope, through indulgences, is to distribute this excess, these superfluous merits, as he feels disposed, at the same time dipping out for himself and his shorn fat swine the riches of the world; indeed, the ecclesiasts distribute their own merits and works. This is the refined monastic chastity, poverty and rigid obedience of the orders--nothing but shameless falsehood and scandalous vice, practiced under that covering, both privately and publicly, with the exception of a few who were sincere in their desire to be monks, of whom I was one. These falsehoods the orders readily sold to the laity on deathbeds and under other circumstances. Indeed, wretched mortals who had incurred a death penalty and were about to be publicly executed, they referred not to Christ for comfort, but counseled patience in their own well-deserved suffering and death; as if God would accept their pain as atonement for their sins if only they suffered patiently. Purchasing of merit was the ecclesiasts' chief doctrine, their strongest point. They fearlessly proclaimed it in public, and through its influence erected numerous churches and cloisters and satiated the avarice and cupidity of the Pope. And I too, alas, was one of these knaves until God delivered me. And now, God be praised, I am execrated and condemned by the hellish seat of the Roman dragon with its scales because I assailed this papal doctrine and would not justify it. 15. Oh, the shameful abomination, that in the temple of God and in the Christian Church must be taught and received things which make wholly insignificant the sufferings and death of Christ! Gracious God! what can be said for human merit--for superfluity of human merit--when not one saint on earth has, with all his pains, suffered enough to cancel his own obligations; much less to be entitled to the honor of making his sufferings avail anything before God's judgment-seat, by way of remuneration or satisfaction for the mortal sins of others in the face of divine wrath? Note, Peter says Christ left us an example that we should follow his steps; which is but concluding that no saint ever wrought or suffered enough to warrant the claim: "I have accomplished the measure--reached the limit; Christ is no more an example and pattern for me." No; the saint ought to be ashamed to boast of his sufferings in comparison to those of Christ, and ought to rejoice in the privilege of being partaker of the divine pain, of sharing it so far as he can, and thus be found in the footsteps of Christ. 16. The theme of Christ's passion, then, must far outrank every other. His sufferings are like pure and precious gold, compared to which ours are as nothing. No one but Christ has suffered for the sins of another. No man has ever paid the price of his own sins, great or small. Even if man's suffering could avail aught for sin, the individual could not go beyond expiating his own sins. But Christ had no need at all to suffer for himself; for, as follows in the text, he had committed no sin. He suffered to leave us an example, but yet also to bring to man the great blessing of being able to say, "My sins and the sins of the whole world were atoned for upon the cross, blotted out, through Christ's death." Peter, Mary, John the Baptist, and every soul born of woman must include himself or herself in this statement, "Christ also suffered for you." 17. In the third place, Christ stands preëminent, above all others, in the affirmation of Peter, quoted from Isaiah 53, 9: "Who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth." 18. You may draw your own conclusions as to the eminence of such a one; for certainly there is to be found no other human being who has not at some time sinned in word or deed. "If any man stumbleth not in word, the same is a perfect man," says James 3, 2. But where is this perfect man, and what is his name? It is this Christ, he alone of all, James should have added. For Peter excludes all other individuals, in one class, saying, "Ye were going astray like sheep." And later on (ch. 3, 18) he tells us plainly, "Christ also suffered for sins once, the righteous for the unrighteous." This statement leaves no man innocent of sin, either in word or deed; and in word and deed is included man's whole life. Speech and action are associated in various Scripture references; as in Psalm 34, 13-14: "Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile. Depart from evil, and do good." But in speech is the greatest liability to error. In teaching, counseling, admonishing, consoling and censuring, and in confessing the truth, no one indeed will be found so perfect in his utterances as never to commit a blunder. 19. But Christ is the one perfect example in this respect. It is impossible for saints to attain to his faultlessness. Surely no man--unless he desires to be a liar and a true disciple of the devil instead of a child of God and a faithful Christian--will be presumptuous enough to put himself on an equality with Christ, will dare boast himself without sin in word and act. Christ alone has suffered, the righteous for the unrighteous; that prerogative can honorably and truthfully be ascribed only to Christ the Lord, and is his perpetually. No man is just and innocent in word and act. All must confess their sufferings, of whatever nature, to be the result of their own sins, and well deserved chastisement. For the fact of having escaped the eternal wrath, condemnation and punishment of God, they must thank this just one alone, he who, being himself blameless, voluntarily suffered to make satisfaction for the unrighteous, and appeased God's wrath. The sufferings of all saints, then, must be rated far below those of Christ the Lord. The saints must clothe and adorn themselves with his innocence, and with the entire Christian Church pray, "Forgive us our trespasses"; and they must confess the article, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins." 20. Now, let us sum up the three arguments Peter uses in admonishing Christians to patience in suffering. First: He says, "Hereunto were ye called." Though you do have to suffer much and severely, you have ever before you the example of Christ, to the limit of whose sufferings you can never attain. You dare not boast even if you have suffered everything. Moreover, you are under obligation to suffer for God's sake. Second: Christ did not suffer for his own sake, nor of necessity; he suffered for your sake, and all from good will toward you. Third: He was wholly innocent--free from sin; internally--in heart--and externally--in word and deed. For where evil dwells in the heart, it cannot long remain concealed. It must manifest itself in words, at least. Christ says (Mt 12, 34), "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." 21. Why, then, should you complain of your suffering or refuse to suffer what your sins really deserve? Indeed, you deserve much more than you receive--even eternal suffering. But God forgives you and remits the eternal punishment for the sake of Christ the Lord, desiring that you patiently endure the lesser suffering for the utter mortification of the sins inherent in your flesh and blood. To make such lot the less grievous to you, Christ has gone before and left you an example of perfect patience under the most intense suffering, an example equaled nowhere in the world. The Supreme Majesty, God's own Son, suffered in the most ignominious manner the extremity of torture, pain and anguish in body and soul, something intolerable to mere human nature; and that innocently, and for us condemned sinners--suffering for the sins of strangers. "Who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered threatened not." 22. To further emphasize and make effectual in us the example of Christ's patience, Peter proceeds to analyze it, to show it in its true colors, to mention the details and make plain how it differs from any other example of suffering. He has told us before that Christ did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth. Why, then, did the Jews persecute and crucify him--put him to death? Inquire into his entire life history and you will find that no one could justly impeach, nor could convict, him for any sin. He himself appealed to his enemies to prove aught of sin in him. No one could show an injury he had ever done to anyone, or a wrong he had ever taught or practiced. On the contrary, he had gone about to bring to the Jewish nation the grace and salvation of God. He had revealed God's Word, opened the eyes of the blind, healed the sick, cast out devils, fed great multitudes when hungry and lacking food. In short, in all his life, there was nothing in word or act but truth, goodness, beneficence and a disposition to aid. In return for the good he wrought, he was compelled to receive the ungrateful reward of man's hatred and condemnation. His enemies were moved solely by obdurate, diabolical hatred, and could not cease their persecutions until they brought him to the cross, where he was disgracefully hung up nude between two murderers, being lifted up as unworthy to touch the earth and to live among men. 23. Christ was under no obligation to endure disgrace and ill-treatment. He might have refrained from his benevolent ministrations when he saw the futility of his efforts with the Jews. But he did not so; even in his sufferings upon the cross he charitably prayed for his enemies. He had authority, he had power enough, and he would have been justified in the action, had he revenged himself on his furious enemies, invoked evil upon them, and execrated them as they deserved to be execrated; for they had treated him with gross injustice before all the world, as even the testimony of his betrayer and his judge and all creatures admitted, and had bitterly reviled him when he hung upon the cross. But he did none of these things. He bore with ineffable meekness and patience all the ill-treatment his enemies could heap upon him. Even in his extremity of anguish, he benevolently interceded for them to his Heavenly Father, to which act the prophet Isaiah (ch. 53) offers a tribute of high praise. 24. Notice, we have here in all respects a perfect and inimitable example of patience--patience of the most exalted kind. In this example we may behold as in a glass what we have yet to learn of calm endurance, and thus be impelled to imitate that example in some small measure at least. 25. Not without reason does Peter applaud the fact that when Christ was reviled he reviled not again, and when he suffered he threatened not. Though to endure undeserved violence and injustice is hard enough, that which more than aught else naturally renders suffering grievous and makes men impatient is to experience the monstrous unfairness of receiving the mean and vexatious reward of ingratitude from individuals who have enjoyed one's favors and greatest benefactions. Base ingratitude is extremely painful for human nature to endure. It makes the heart flutter and the blood boil with a spirit of revenge. When no alternative presents, an outburst of reviling, execration and threatening follows. Flesh and blood has not the power of restraint to enable it to remain calm when evil is returned for favors and benevolence, and to say, "God be thanked." 26. Mark the example of Christ, however, and there learn to censure yourself. Beloved, how can you complain when you see how infinitely greater was the grief and how much more painful the anxiety endured by your beloved Lord and faithful Saviour, the Son of God himself, who yet bore all patiently and submissively and, more than that, prayed for those instrumental in causing that agony? Who with a single drop of Christian blood in his heart would not blush with shame to be guilty of murmuring at his sufferings when, before God, he is so sinful and is deserving of much more affliction? Wicked, unprofitable and condemned servant must he be who does not follow his Lord's example of endurance but presumes to think himself better and nobler than Christ; who with inimical spirit murmurs, complaining of great injustice, when he really deserves affliction, and when he suffers infinitely less than did his dear, righteous, innocent Lord. Beloved, if Christ so suffered in return for the great blessing he conferred, be not too indolent to imitate him in some degree by suffering without anger and reproaches. Less reason have you to be angry and reproachful from the fact that you, too, were one whose sins brought Christ to the cross. 27. But you may say: "What? Did not Christ revile when (Mt 23) he called the scribes and pharisees hypocrites, murderers, serpents, a generation of vipers, and even more severely rebuked them?" I reply: Oh yes, we would gladly follow Christ's example here; we could cheerfully revile and accuse. It is much easier than being patient. We would need no Master to help us in this. But note what Peter says: When Christ was about to suffer death, having fulfilled the obligation of his ministry--having proclaimed the truth, rebuked falsehood and been brought to the cross therefor--and being about to conclude his mission by suffering, he reviled not; as a sheep for the slaughter, he permitted himself to be executed and opened not his mouth against his calumniators and murderers. See Isaiah 53, 7. 28. It is necessary, then, to make a distinction here. Reviling--or pronouncing execrations and threats--is of two kinds. In one case it is official and pronounced of God; in the other, without authority and comes from man. It was one of the duties of Christ's office on earth, and one now incumbent upon those called to bear that office after him, to assert the truth and censure the evil. Such a course is essential to the honor of God and the salvation of souls; for if the truth were to be ignored, who would come to God? Official chastisement is a work of divine, Christian love. It is a parental duty imposed of God. God has implanted in the parent nature intense love for the child; at the same time, if parents are godly and have proper affection for their children they will not connive at, or let pass unpunished, the disobedience of the latter. They must chastise, both with reproof and with keen rods. These are official strokes--love stripes--enjoined of God, and their infliction is our duty. They are not injurious, but beneficial. Solomon says (Prov 13, 24): "He that spareth his rod hateth his son; but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes." And Jesus the son of Sirach says in Ecclesiasticus: "He that loveth his son causeth him oft to feel the rod, that he may have joy of him in the end." 29. So everyone may, and should, reprove when official duty or his neighbor's case requires; it serves to reform the subject. To quote Solomon again (Prov 27, 6): "Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are profuse [deceitful]." Reproofs and stripes prompted by love and a faithful heart are beneficial. On the other hand, an enemy may use fair and flattering words when he has enmity and deceit at heart, preferring to let you go on to ruin rather than by gentle reproof to warn of danger and rescue you from destruction. The faithful, conscientious physician must often, of necessity and with great pain to the patient, amputate a limb in order to save the body. Paul, too, commands pious bishops to be urgent in season, out of season; to reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering. 2 Tim 4, 2; Tit 2, 15. By our silence to commend or to encourage to evil the wrong-doer would not be to manifest one's love to the offender, but rather to give him over wholly to death and the devil. 30. It was this love and sincerity of heart which prompted Christ in his office to censure and rebuke, for which he merited only wrath and hatred; as we say, he sought his stripes. But the duty of his office required such action on his part. His motive was to turn the transgressors from their blindness and malice, and to rescue them from perdition; and he could not be deterred by the consequent persecution, cross and death which awaited. But having fulfilled his official duties, and the hour of his suffering having arrived, he suffered patiently, permitting his enemies to heap upon him all possible evil in return for his manifested love and blessings. Instead of angrily reviling and execrating while, suspended from the cross, he endured the most shameful calumnies, he, with strong cries and with tears, prayed, "Father, forgive them." It was, indeed, a heart of unfathomable love that, in the midst of extreme suffering, had compassion on its persecutors and blessed them in greater measure than parent can bless child or one individual bless another. 31. Observe, then, the distinction between official and unofficial censure and rebuke; the former is prompted by love, and the latter by wrath and hatred. The world, however, is artful and cunning enough when it hears this distinction, to pervert and confuse the two, exercising its own revenge under the name of official zeal and reproof. For instance, if a preacher is disposed to act the knave, he can easily give vent to his personal anger and vengeance in his pulpit utterances, censuring and rebuking as he pleases, and then claim it is all in obedience to the demand of office and for the good of the people. Again, a judge, a mayor, or other prominent official, desiring revengefully to satisfy a personal grudge, can more successfully accomplish his object under the title of the office he bears and the obligations imposed upon him for the punishment of the wicked than in any other way. This practice now frequently obtains since the world has learned to use the Gospel to conceal its malice and knavery, to adorn it with the name of a divinely appointed office. It ever uses the name and Word of God to cloak its infamy. But who is vigilant enough to elude such knavery and to make the children of the devil honest? Let him who would be a Christian, then, take heed how he shall answer such accusation. Assuredly God will not allow himself to be deceived. He will, in due time, relieve the innocent victim of injustice, and his punishment will seek out the wicked. Peter says, further: "But committed himself to him that judgeth righteously." 32. Who revealed to Peter the nature of Christ's thoughts upon the cross? The apostle has just been saying that Christ reviled not nor thought of revenge, but rather manifested love and good-will toward his virulent enemies. How could Christ approve such malice? Truly he could not endorse it. Nor could he commend his enemies for crucifying him and putting him to death upon the cross without cause. No such conclusion may be drawn. The devil and his adherents must not construe the passage to mean license to heap all manner of torture and distress upon Christ and his saints as upon those who must not only patiently bear these things, unmoved by revengeful desires, but must render gratitude to their persecutors as if their acts were praiseworthy. No; this can by no means be permitted. Could I be said to suffer innocently if I am obliged to confess I am well treated? Several times in this epistle Peter admonishes Christians not to suffer as evil-doers, thieves, murderers. But if I suffer innocently and am unjustly treated, I am not to justify the ill-treatment and strengthen the enemy in his sins; for, so doing, I would approve his conduct and assume the guilt attributed. That principle would be pleasing to the Pope and the devil and to tyrants; they would willingly have it obtain. They are not wholly satisfied even to murder the innocent; they would prefer to be justified in their action--to have us confess to wrong-doing. But that is something no Christian heart will do; it may be left to the devil. 33. But the Papists will say: "However, it is written, You must suffer and not revile; you must thank God for persecution and pray for your enemies." That is true; but it is one thing to suffer patiently, the while wishing your enemies well and praying for them, and quite a different thing to justify them in their conduct. I must cease not to confess the truth and maintain my innocence, both in heart and with my lips. But if men will not accept my word, my heart must tell me I have suffered injustice. Rather should I endure ten deaths, could my enemies inflict them, than to condemn myself in violation of conscience. So, when Peter made this little statement about Christ not reviling nor threatening, which was true, he did not mean that Christ justified his persecutors in their treatment of him. But what are we to do? If we do not justify our enemies when they make us suffer, they will do even worse things to us; for they desire the name and the credit, in the eyes of the world, of having done right by us. Yes, as Christ has somewhere said, they would have it thought they do God great service by murdering us. Now, who is to judge and decide the question? 34. Peter declares that Christ committed the matter to him who judges righteously. How should he do otherwise, knowing that his persecutors treated him unjustly and yet maintained the contrary? There was for him no judge on earth. He was compelled to commit the matter to that righteous judge, his Heavenly Father. Well he knew that such sins and blasphemies could not go unpunished. No, the sentence was already passed, the sword sharpened, the angels given orders, for the overthrow of Jerusalem. Previous to his sufferings, on his way to Jerusalem, as Christ beheld the city, he announced its coming doom and wept over it. Therefore, he prays for his enemies, saying: "Dear Father, I must commit the matter to thee, since they refuse to hear or to see the wrong they do. Well I know they are rushing into thy wrath and thy terrible punishment, but I pray thee to forgive them what they do to me." And so they would have been forgiven had they afterward repented at the apostles' preaching, and had they not further sinned in persecuting God's Word and thus brought upon their unrepentant selves ultimate punishment. CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE IN SUFFERING. 35. Observe, as Christ did, so should we conduct ourselves in our sufferings; not approving or assenting to whatever may be heaped upon us, but yet not seeking revenge. We are to commit the matter to God, who will judge aright. We cannot maintain our rights before the world; therefore we must commit our cause to God, who judges righteously and who will not allow calumniation of his Word and persecution of believers to pass unpunished. We must, however, pray for our persecutors, that they may be converted and escape future wrath and punishment; and so we do. If it is possible for some of the bishops and other Gospel-persecuting tyrants to be converted, we will heartily pray and desire that their conversion may come to pass. But if it be impossible, as now, alas, is to be feared, since, after having been much admonished and often prayed for and having enjoyed the best advantages, they wittingly rage against the known truth--if so, then we must commit them to God's judgment. What more can we do? I am persuaded that the intolerable persecution and calumniating of the Gospel prevalent today cannot be permitted to pass with impunity. It must ultimately meet the coming judgment upon the Papacy and Germany. Of this there can be no doubt. But it is ours to continue preaching, praying, admonishing and beseeching, in the hope of effecting repentance. Then, if our enemies still refuse to turn from their evil ways, if they perish in their impenitence, what can we do but say: "Dear God, we commit the matter to thee. Thou wilt punish them; thou canst, indeed, most terribly." 36. Such, mark you, is the example of Christ, presented to the entire Christian Church--set up as a pattern for her. Hence it is the duty of the Church, as Peter elsewhere tells us, to arm herself with the same mind which was Christ's, to suffer as Christ did and to think: If Christ, my Lord and Leader, has suffered for me with so great meekness and patience, how much more reason have I to submit to suffering! And what can it harm me to suffer when I know it is God's will? Not because the suffering in itself is so perfecting and precious, but for the sake of the dear Saviour who suffered for me. I know, too, that my persecutors thus commit most abominable sins against God and incur his wrath and punishment. Why, then, should I be impatient or desire revenge? I am already too highly honored of God in the fact that my sufferings meet his approbation and that he will perfectly avenge me of mine enemies. What can it advantage me for them to burn eternally in hell? I will rather pray and use my utmost efforts for their conversion. If I fail and they are determined to persist in their course, I must bring the matter home to God--must commit it to him. "Who his own self bare our sins in his body upon the tree, that we, having died unto sins, might live unto righteousness." 37. Peter's is the true preaching concerning the passion of Christ. He teaches not only the merit in Christ's sufferings, but introduces both themes--its efficacy and example. Such is Paul's custom, also. In this verse Peter presents Christ's sufferings in the light of a sacrifice for sin. They constitute a work acceptable to God as satisfaction for the sins of the whole world and effective to reconcile him to men. So great is God's wrath toward sin that none but that eternal one, the Son of God, could avert it. He had himself to be the sacrifice, to allow his body to be nailed to the cross. The cross was the altar whereupon the sacrifice was consumed--wholly burned--in the fire of his unfathomable love. He had to be his own high priest in this sacrifice: for no earthly mortal, all being sinners and unclean, could offer to God the sacrifice of his beloved and wholly sinless Son; the boasting of the priests of Antichrist in regard to their masses, to the contrary notwithstanding. Now, by the single sacrifice of God's Son, our sins are remitted and we obtain grace and forgiveness; and this fact can be grasped in no other way than through faith. 38. Peter mentions the ultimate object of the divine sacrifice made for us, what it accomplished in us, the fruit Christ's passion shall yield; for he would not have the Christian Church overlook that point, or neglect to preach it. Christ, he tells us, took upon himself our sins, suffering the penalty. Therefore, Christ alone is entitled to be called a sacrifice for all our sins. It was not designed, however, that after the sacrifice we should remain as before; on the contrary, the purpose was ultimately to work in us freedom from sins, to have us live no longer unto sin but unto righteousness. Now, if in Christ our sins are sacrificed, they are put to death, blotted out; for to sacrifice means to slay, to kill. Under the Old Testament dispensation, all sacrifices had to be presented to God slain. Now, if our sins are put to death, it is not meant that we are to live in them. 39. Therefore, the saving doctrine of remission of sins and of Christ's grace cannot be so construed as to admit of our continuing in the old life and following our own desires. According to Paul (Rom 6, 1-8), enjoying grace and remission of sins does not give license to live in sin. How shall we who are dead to sin live any longer therein? The very fact that we may be reckoned dead unto sins means they may no longer live and reign in us. In Christ's holy body were they throttled and slain expressly that they might also be slain in us. 40. Be careful, then, what you believe and how you live, that the efficacy of Christ's sufferings may be manifestly fulfilled in you. If, through faith, you have rightly apprehended his sacrifice, its virtue will be indicated in the subduing and mortifying of your sins, even as they are already slain and dead through his death on the cross. But if you continue to live in sins, you cannot say they are dead in you. You but deceive yourself, and your own evidence is false when you boast of Christ in whom all sins are put to death, if sin remains vigorous in you. We naturally conclude it is inconsistent for sin to be dead in us and yet alive; for us to be free from sin and yet captive or fast therein. This fact has already been sufficiently pointed out. 41. It is ours, Peter says, not only to believe that Christ has, through the sacrifice of his own body, put to death sin and liberated us therefrom--a thing the combined sacrifices of all mortal bodies could never have effected--but, sin being put to death by him, to endeavor to become ever more and more free from sin's sway in our bodies, and to live henceforth unto righteousness, until we shall be completely and finally released from sin through death. Therefore, if before you believed on Christ you were an adulterer, a miser, a coveter, a maligner, you ought now to regard all these sins as dead, throttled through Christ; the benefit is yours through faith in his sacrifice, and your sins should henceforth cease to reign in you. If you have not so received the sacrifice, you cannot boast of Christ and faith. Though Christ has died for you, though your sins have been put upon him and reckoned dead, still you are not rid of those sins if you do not desire to be, if you do not, through faith, apprehend Christ and his blessing, nor in your life and conduct follow his example. 42. Now you will say: "But you teach that we are all sinners, that there is not even a saint on earth without sin. And surely we must confess the article, 'I believe in the remission of sins,' and must pray, 'Forgive us our debts.'" I reply, most assuredly you never will attain sinless perfection here on earth; if such were the case you would have no further need for faith and Christ. At the same time, it is not designed that you should continue as you were before obtaining remission of sins through faith. I speak of known sins wittingly persisted in, in spite of the rebuke and condemnation of conscience. These should be dead in you; in other words, they are not to rule you, but you are to rule them, to resist them, to undertake their mortification. And if occasionally you fail, if you stumble, you should immediately rise again, embrace forgiveness and renew your endeavor to mortify your sins. "By whose stripes ye were healed." 43. It seems as if Peter could not sufficiently exalt and make impressive Christ's sufferings. He brings in nearly the entire Fifty-third chapter of Isaiah in the attempt. Note how, in regard to the efficacy of works, he always significantly introduces the two themes at the same time--how he carefully distinguishes between performing human works in obedience to Christ's example, and receiving by faith the merit of Christ's work. First, we have, "Who his own self bare our sins in his body upon the tree ... by whose stripes ye were healed." This is the vital part in our salvation. Christ alone could fully accomplish the work. This doctrine must be taught in its purity and simplicity, and must so be believed, in opposition to the devil and his factions. Only so can we maintain the honor and the office of Christ wherein is anchored our salvation. But the second part of the doctrine must not be overlooked. There are false Christians who accept only the first part and make no effort to reform themselves; but, being liberated from our sins and in a state of salvation, we may not again defile ourselves therewith. Where these two principals of the Christian doctrine are not maintained in their proper relation, injury must result to the truth in two respects: they who are occupied solely with their own works corrupt the true doctrine of faith; they who neglect to follow the example of Christ retard the efficacy and fruit of that faith. "For ye were going astray like sheep." 44. Here Peter bluntly and clearly points out the fact I have stated, that liberation from sin and death was effected not by our works and merits, but by Christ's wounds and death alone. Forgiveness cost you nothing, Peter teaches; no blood, no wounds. You were powerless in this direction. You were but miserable, erring, lost sheep, separated from God, condemned to hell and unable to council or help yourselves. In just such condition are all they who are out of Christ. As Isaiah the prophet says more plainly in the chapter from which these words are taken (verse 6): "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way." That is, whatever our lives, whatever our intent, we but turned farther away from God. As it is written (Ps 14, 3): "They are all gone aside; they are together become filthy; there is none that doeth good, no, not one." 45. That men are prone to go astray like sheep is clearly exhibited in their conduct; history proves it. It has ever been the case that when mankind was divided into various idolatries or false services of God, into superstitions numerous and varied, even when God's people thought to have attained the perfection of holiness--then one ran here and another there, ever seeking and seeking to come upon the road to heaven but getting farther and farther from it. It was exactly the case of the sheep straying from the flock and lost to the shepherd: the farther it runs and the more it follows the voice of strangers, the farther astray it goes. It continues to wander and to flee until it finally perishes, unless it hears again the voice of the shepherd. Let no one, then, dare boast of having himself found the right way to heaven, of having merited God's grace and the remission of sins by his own manner of life. All men must confess the truth of Scripture testimony that we were but erring sheep, fleeing ever farther from our Shepherd and Saviour, until he turned us back to himself. "But are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls." 46. You have now heard the voice of your Shepherd, who has brought you back to himself, from your erring and idolatrous ways. It was not your own effort that effected your return; it was accomplished at the cost of your Shepherd's wounds and shed blood. Be careful, then, Peter would say, to live not like erring and lost sheep; but, being converted--turned back--follow your beloved Saviour. In him you have a godly Shepherd who faithfully pastures and cares for you; and also a loyal Bishop who ever watches over and guards you, not permitting you to stray. 47. Immeasurably gracious and comforting are these words. But the meaning of the word "bishop" has been miserably obscured and perverted by our idolatrous priests and episcopal frauds. Likewise have they perverted and corrupted the terms "ecclesiasts," "Church," "divine service," "priest," etc., by their antichristian rule. Only those have right to the name "ecclesiast" who have been redeemed from their sins through Christ's wounds, and who live holy lives. But the Papists have taken the name away from true Christians and applied it to the Pope's besmeared, and shaven-headed ones. Again, when we hear the word "bishop" we think only of great, pointed caps and of silver staves. As if it were sufficient to place in the Church such masks, such carved and hewn idols! For they are nothing better; in fact, they do more harm. According to the Scriptures, a true bishop is an overseer, a guardian, a watchman. He is like unto the householder, the warder of the city, or any judicial officer or regent who exercises constant oversight of state or municipal affairs. Formerly there were bishops in each parish, deriving their name from the fact that their office required oversight of the Church and the guarding against the devil, against false doctrines and all manner of offenses. Paul, too (Acts 20, 28), reminds the bishops of their office, saying: "Take heed unto yourselves, and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit hath made you bishops [overseers]." And overseers should bishops still be, as in fact all godly preachers and carers for souls are. But in all Popedom the office now is but a mere name, to the sin and shame of the entire Christian Church. 48. Now, Christ our Lord is that faithful Guardian, that true Bishop, who above all others is entitled to the name (with him office and name are identical), and who bears it with due honor, to our eternal happiness. For, standing at the right hand of God and showing his wounds, he unceasingly intercedes for us before the Father; and moreover, on earth he rules, sustains, nourishes and protects, through his Word, his sacraments and the efficacy of the Holy Spirit, the little flock that believe in him. Were he not present with and watching over us here, the devil would long ago have overthrown and destroyed us, and also the Word of God and the name of Christ. And such is the case when God in wrath turns away his eyes from the world to punish its ingratitude. Then immediately everything falls into the devil's power. Therefore, pure doctrine, faith, confession and the use of the sacraments are dependent for their perpetuity solely upon the vigilant guardianship of our beloved Shepherd and Bishop. 49. Comforting, indeed, is it to have in Christ a priest so faithful and righteous; though, alas, the worthy name of "priest" also has been subjected to shame and contempt because of the Pope's disgraceful, shaven, shallow-headed occupants of the office. Comforting, indeed, it is to be the happy lambs who have a welcome refuge in the Shepherd and find in him joy and comfort in every time of need, assured that his perfect faithfulness cares for and protects us from the devil and the gates of hell. Relative to this subject, the entire Twenty-third Psalm is a beautiful and joyous song, of which the refrain is, "The Lord is my Shepherd." _Third Sunday After Easter_ Text: First Peter 2, 11-20. 11 Beloved, I beseech you as sojourners and pilgrims, to abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul; 12 having your behavior seemly among the Gentiles; that, wherein they speak against you as evil-doers, they may by your good works, which they behold, glorify God in the day of visitation. 13 Be subject to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake: whether to the king, as supreme; 14 or unto governors, as sent by him for vengeance on evil-doers and for praise to them that do well. 15 For so is the will of God, that by well-doing ye should put to silence the ignorance of foolish men: 16 as free, and not using your freedom for a cloak of wickedness, but as bondservants of God. 17 Honor all men. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the king. 18 Servants, be in subjection to your masters with all fear; not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward. 19 For this is acceptable, if for conscience toward God a man endureth griefs, suffering wrongfully. 20 For what glory is it, if, when ye sin, and are buffeted for it, ye shall take it patiently? but if, when ye do well, and suffer for it, ye shall take it patiently, this is acceptable with God. OUR CHRISTIAN DUTIES. 1. This epistle selection, too, is an admonition to good works, or the fruits of faith. It touches upon nearly every condition of life, teaching how each individual should live and conduct himself. But first, Peter admonishes Christians in general that in their intercourse with gentiles, or the unbelieving world, they give no real occasion for censure or reproach concerning their conduct. The admonition seems to hinge upon the fact that Christians, as the apostle reminds them in the first and second chapters, have been called to a lively, a never-dying, hope of an imperishable inheritance in heaven, and of eternal joy and salvation; that they are now redeemed, having obtained remission of sins through the precious blood of Christ; and again, that they are become a holy nation and royal priesthood, to show forth and magnify the grace of God, they who in time past were not God's people and had not obtained grace. "But now," Peter would say, "you have obtained grace through the divine calling of Christ, through the suffering of your Lord. Live, then, as a holy people of God and citizens of heaven." 2. We have already heard that in the Christian life are two essential principles, two principles upon which Christian teachers may lay emphasis. First, faith in the fact that through Christ's blood we are released from sin and have forgiveness; second, being forgiven, our natures are to be changed and we are to walk in newness of life. In baptism, when we first believe, we obtain not only remission of sins whereby we are of grace made children of God, but also the power to purge out, to mortify, the remaining sins. Our transgressions are not forgiven, Paul says (Rom 1, 6), with the privilege of continuing in them, as the insolent rejecters of grace imagine. It is this way: Our sins being blotted out through the blood of Christ, we need not to make remuneration or render satisfaction for them; we are children of grace and enjoy forgiveness. Nevertheless, inherent sin is not entirely purged out, or mortified. REMISSION AND MORTIFICATION DEFINED. 3. There is difference between remission of sins and mortification of them. The distinction should be made clear for the sake of combating those who confound and pervert the two principles by their false doctrines. In regard to remission, the Pope and many others have taught that forgiveness of sins is obtained through the foolishness of men's own self-elected works, the satisfactions of their own devising. This error has ever prevailed in the world. Cain was the first to make it, and it will continue to the end. And where this error is refuted, false teachers are found who, on the other hand, accept and boast of the doctrine of grace without enjoying its happy results. They proceed as if mere forgiveness were enough, and without further effect than averting punishment; as if it leaves us where we were before, not ameliorating in any wise our moral condition; and as if no more is to be known about Christ and the Gospel. Therefore, they who claim to be Christians must learn that, having obtained forgiveness without merit on their part, they should henceforth give no place to sins, but rather resist their former evil lusts and avoid and flee from the fruits and works thereof. Such is the substance of this lesson. 4. But note from the apostle's words how his view has changed since the time when, as a fisherman of Bethsaida, he went about with the Lord previous to the Lord's death and resurrection. At that time Peter and the other apostles, in fact the entire Jewish nation, had no other conception of Christ's kingdom--or the kingdom of God--than as an earthly one wherein they should know only happiness, figuring as wealthy farmers, citizens, noblemen, counts and lords. The sum of the world's goods should be theirs, and all the gentiles their vassals. They were to be thenceforth undisturbed by enemies, wars, famine or misfortune, and to enjoy the extremity of peace, leisure and happiness under their supreme King, the Messiah. Such were their hopes, even their expectations. With these pleasing fancies were their minds filled. And just so today are the Jews full and drunken with their visionary dreams. THE NATURE OF CHRIST'S KINGDOM. 5. Observe here, however, Peter teaches that the lot of the sharer in Christ's kingdom is quite the reverse of what he once imagined. "O beloved Christians," he would say, "who are called and baptized into the royal and priestly kingdom of Christ, I have now to tell you things quite different from the ideas and dreams you and I used to entertain. We are, it is true, citizens, counts and lords in the kingdom where Christ reigns supreme over all earthly kings and lords, and where is only eternal riches, peace and happiness in every form; but the life of that kingdom is unlike that of earthly kings and dominions. You are not, be it known, lords and noblemen in a worldly sense; neither is Christ a king as the world regards kingliness, and the kingdom of the world is not in harmony with his. Know, then, you must regard yourselves strangers and pilgrims in the kingdom of the world. "Therefore, I admonish you that, having now become Christians--brothers in the eternal heavenly kingdom--your manner of life should be such as becomes them who are no longer of a worldly kingdom. Regard this earthly life only as the traveler or pilgrim regards the country wherein he journeys, the inn where he procures a night's lodging. He does not expect to remain in the city, to be mayor or even a citizen. He finds there his food, but his thoughts are cast beyond its gates, to the place where home is. So," Peter says, "must you look upon your earthly course. You did not become Christians with the prospect of reigning here on earth, as the Jews fancy they shall reign and be established. The dwelling-place, the citizenship and the authority of Christians are to be found in another direction, not in this world. Therefore, think of yourselves as pilgrims on earth, directing your attention toward other possessions and another country, wherein you shall be lords forever, and where no discord nor misfortune such as you must endure in this earthly harbor shall ever enter." CHRISTIAN USE OF THIS LIFE. 6. But how is indifference to this life to be accomplished? Peter goes on to say: "Be subject to every ordinance of man ... whether to the king ... or unto governors"; again, "Servants, be in subjection to your masters ... also to the froward." How is it consistent with royal citizenship in a celestial country to be a pilgrim on earth? How can we live here with wives and children, houses and lands, and being citizens under a temporal government, and yet not be at home? There is a distinction here which, as before said, was at first difficult for the beloved apostles themselves to understand. But to Christians, especially those of today, it should be clear. Christ and the apostles do not, in this teaching, design the rejection of external government and human authority--what Peter here terms ordinances of men. No, they permit these to remain as they are; moreover, they enjoin us to submit to and make use of them. 7. This is the difference to be kept in mind: We are to conduct ourselves in our earthly stations and occupations as not regarding this life our true kingdom and best good. And we are not to think the life beyond holds nothing more nor better than what we possess here, as do the Jews and the Turks. Although they believe in the resurrection of the dead, they carnally imagine the future life will be like the present except for its perfect peace and happiness, its freedom from misfortune, persecution and all ills. It is the prerogative of the Pope and his holy epicures to believe nothing in any respect. Every Christian, be he lord or servant, prince or subject, should conduct himself as befits his station, using in trust whatever God has given him--dominion and subjects, house and home, wife and children, money and property, meat and drink. He is to regard himself solely as a guest of earth, as one eating his morsel of bread or taking his lunch in an inn; he must conduct himself in this earthly harbor as a pious guest. Thus may he actually be a king reigning with fidelity, or a lord faithful to his office, and at the same time declare: "I count nothing on this life. I do not expect to remain here. This is but a strange country to me. True, I am seated in the uppermost place at table in this inn; but the occupant of the lowest seat has just as much as I, here or yonder. For we are alike guests. But he who assigned my duty, whose command I execute, gave me orders to conduct myself piously and honorably in this inn, as becomes a guest." 8. So should Christians in all stations of life--lords and ladies, servants and maids--conduct themselves as guests of earth. Let them, in that capacity, eat and drink, make use of clothing and shoes, houses and lands, as long as God wills, yet be prepared to take up their journey when these things pass, and to move on out of life as the guest moves on out of the house or the city which is not his home. Let them conduct themselves as does the guest, with civility toward those with whom they come in contact, not infringing on the rights of any. For a visitor may not unrestrainedly follow his own pleasure and inclinations in the house of a stranger. The saying is: "If you would be a guest, you must behave civilly; otherwise you may promptly be shown the door or the dungeon." 9. Christians should be aware of their citizenship in a better country, that they may rightly adapt themselves to this world. Let them not occupy the present life as if intending to remain in it; nor as do the monks, who flee responsibility, avoiding civil office and trying to run out of the world. For Peter says rather that we are not to escape our fellows and live each for himself, but to remain in our several conditions in life, united with other mortals as God has bound us, and serving one another. At the same time, we are to regard this life as a journey through a country where we have no citizenship--where we are not at home; to think of ourselves as travelers or pilgrims occupying for a night the same inn, eating and drinking there and then leaving the place. 10. Let not the occupants of the humbler stations--servants and subjects--grumble: "Why should I vex myself with unpleasant household tasks, with farm work or heavy labor? This life is not my home anyway, and I may as well have it better. Therefore, I will abandon my station and enjoy myself; the monks and priests have, in their stations, withdrawn themselves from the world and yet drunk deeply, satisfying fleshly lusts." No, this is not the right way. If you are unwilling to put up with your lot, as the guest in a tavern and among strangers must do, you also may not eat and drink. Similarly, they who are favored with loftier positions in life may not, upon this authority, abandon themselves to the idea of living in the sheer idleness and lustful pleasure their more favored station permits, as if they were to be here always. Let them reason thus: "This life, it is true, is transitory--a voyage, a pilgrimage, leading to our actual fatherland. But since it is God's will that everyone should serve his fellows here in his respective station, in the office committed to him, we will do whatever is enjoined upon us. We will serve our subjects, our neighbors, our wives and children so long as we can; we would not relax our service even if we knew we had to depart this very hour and leave all earthly things. For, God be praised, had we to die now we would know where we belong, where our home is. While we are here, however, on the way, it is ours to fulfill the obligations of our earthly citizenship. Therefore, we will live with our fellows in obedience to the law of our abiding-place, even unto the hour wherein we must cross the threshold outward, that we may depart in honor, leaving no occasion for complaint." 11. Thus, mark you, should every Christian conduct himself here on earth, according to Peter. In the first place, he should know where is his real home, his fatherland. We learn this through faith in Christ, whereby we become children of God, heirs of eternal life, citizens of heaven. Accordingly, we sing: "Now we pray thee, Holy Spirit, for true faith," etc., when we depart home from this wretchedness. This sentiment accords beautifully with the text here where Peter calls us "sojourners and pilgrims"--wayfarers in earthly wretchedness, desiring home and casting our thoughts beyond the gates of our sojourning-place. Second, though we must suffer this wretched condition in a foreign land, we are under obligation to render every honor to the host and to respect the inn, making the best of whatever may befall us. 12. The prophet Jeremiah found it necessary to give admonition of this sort to his wretched Jewish countrymen in Babylon who longed unspeakably to be home again and almost despaired because of having so long to suffer misery among strangers when many of their brethren were at home. Other prophets had encouraged them with the promise of soon being returned. Consequently many of them ceased to till the land and neglected to provide for a livelihood. To these Jeremiah writes (ch. 29, 10): "Ye must have patience, for ye are not so soon to return--not till seventy years be accomplished." Meanwhile, though in wretchedness and captivity, they were to do as he bids in verses 5-7: "Build ye houses, and dwell in them; and plant gardens, and eat the fruit of them. Take ye wives, and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons, and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters: and multiply ye there, and be not diminished. And seek the peace of the city whither I have caused you to be carried away captive, and pray unto Jehovah for it; for in the peace thereof shall ye have peace." That there in their misery they should build houses and make themselves citizens of Babylon, should marry and rear children--yes, give their children in marriage--as if they were to remain there permanently--this injunction of the prophet was altogether disagreeable and annoying to them. And still more offensive was the command to pray for the city and kingdom wherein they were captives. Much rather would they have prayed for liberation; for, influenced by the other prophets, they hoped to return home the following year. 13. Now, how was it with them? The godly, faithful ones had reason to hope and trust in release and a return to their own kingdom. Surely there was no pleasure, no joy, for them in their present miserable condition, as in Psalm 137 they testify and complain by the rivers of Babylon. There they cried and wept and had not an hour of enjoyment when they thought of home. The long seventy years their hearts continually stood at the gate ready to depart, so that they had no inclination whatever to build houses, to cultivate farms, to make gardens, to take wives and rear children. Nevertheless, the prophet bids them meet all the requirements of citizens of that country; and more than that, to pray for their hosts in the same spirit in which they would pray for their neighbors and fellow-citizens, asking God for peace and prosperity upon the city. CHRISTIANS SUBJECTS OF TWO KINGDOMS. 14. So, too, Christians are subjects of two kingdoms--they have experience of two kinds of life. Here on earth where the world has its home and its heavenly kingdom, we surely are not citizens. According to Paul (Phil 3, 20), "our conversation"--our citizenship--"is with Christ in heaven"; that is, in yonder life, the life we await. As the Jews hoped to be released from Babylon, we hope to be released from this present life and to go where we shall be lordly citizens forever. But being obliged to continue in this wretched state--our Babylon--so long as God wills, we should do as the Jews were commanded to do--mingle with other mortals, eat and drink, make homes, till the soil, fill civil offices and show good will toward our fellows, even praying for them, until the hour arrives for us to depart unto our home. 15. He who is guided by these facts, who comprehends the distinction between the kingdom of heaven and the kingdom of the world, will know how to resist successfully all classes of fanatics. For these latter paint this life in a terrible aspect. They want to run out of the world entirely, and are unwilling to associate with anyone; or they proceed to disturb civil regulations and to overthrow all order; or again, as with the Pope, they interfere in secular rule, desiring temporal authority, wholly under the name and color of Christianity. Having as Christians forgiveness of sins, and being now people of God, children of his kingdom, citizens no longer of Babylon but of heaven, let us know that during the period of our sojourn here among strangers, it is ours to live righteously, honorably and chastely, to further civil and domestic peace and to lend counsel and aid to benefit even the wicked and ungrateful, meanwhile constantly striving after our inheritance and keeping in mind the kingdom whither we are bound. 16. In short, a Christian must be one who, as Paul says (1 Cor 7, 29-31), uses this world as not abusing it, who buys and possesses as though he possessed not, who has wife and children as though he had them not and who builds as though not building. How is it possible to reconcile these seeming inconsistencies? By making the Christian faith distinct from the faith of the Jews and Turks--yes, of the Papists even: by accepting the fact that the Christian's attitude toward this earthly life is the attitude of the guest; that in such capacity is he to build, to buy, to have dealings and hold intercourse with his fellows, to join them in all temporal affairs--a guest who respects his host's wishes, the laws of the realm and of the city and the customs of the inn, but at the same time the Christian refrains from attesting his satisfaction with this life as if he intended to remain here and hoped for nothing better. Thus will the Christian pass through every temporal event in the right way--having every possession as though not having it, using and yet not cleaving to it; not so occupied with the temporal as to lose the eternal, but leaving behind--forgetting--the former while striving after the latter as the goal set before him. 17. Therefore, they who presume to run out of the world by going into the desert or the wilderness; who, unwilling to occupy the inn but finding it indispensable nevertheless, must become their own hosts--these are great and unreasonable fools. Surely they must eat and drink and have clothing and shelter. With these things they cannot dispense, even if they can withdraw from all society. Nor is their action forsaking and fleeing the world, as they imagine it to be. Whatever your station and condition, whatever your occupation in life, of necessity you must be somewhere on earth while mortal life is yours. Nor has God separated you from men; he has placed you in society. Each individual is created and born for the sake of other individuals. But observe, wherever you are and whatever your station, you are, I say, to flee the world. HOW TO ESCAPE THE WORLD. 18. But how are we to flee the world? Not by donning caps and creeping into a corner or going into the wilderness. You cannot so escape the devil and sin. Satan will as easily find you in the wilderness in a gray cap as he will in the market in a red coat. It is the heart which must flee, and that by keeping itself "unspotted from the world," as James 1, 27 says. In other words, you must not cling to temporal things, but be guided by the doctrine of faith in Christ, and await the eternal, heavenly inheritance; and in that faith and that hope are you to execute the trust and work committed to you here, declaring the while: "That which I do here is not the chief good, the thing of real value, for which I live; though such is the case with the world, the Jews, the Turks and the Papists. I hold this temporal life as a tavern, valuing it no more than the guest values the inn where he enjoys food and lodging, while heart and mind turn ever to his own home." What tolerance would there be for one foolish enough to declare: "I will not eat nor drink here. I will behave peculiarly, smashing windows and turning things upside down, for this is not my abiding-place"? For the very purpose of advancing himself on his journey, the traveler should make use of the inn, accepting whatever is offered. 19. Likewise should Christians use the world, constantly casting their thoughts beyond this life, notwithstanding they have here house and home, wife and children. These are for the present life only, yet the Christian owes them due consideration, the while he asserts: "Today we are here, tomorrow elsewhere. Now we avail ourselves of this inn, the next day of another. We do not expect to remain here." Relative to this subject, Peter in his beautiful Pentecostal sermon says concerning David, who nevertheless was a holy king, that he did not ascend into the heavens, but, having fulfilled the will of God, fell asleep. Peter, so far from being willing to disparage David's office and rule, to criticise him therein for wrong-doing, rather magnifies it in glowing terms. David was a king, and cast not aside his crown; no, he retained his royal glory. He held his office as a God-intrusted one, in the execution whereof he served God. Similarly should the righteous ruler do--in fact, all men in their respective offices and stations. Let them remember they are not placed where they are to choose their own pleasure, but solely for the service of God. Such is their duty so long as they are here--transients, like the stranger at the inn with other guests, who conducts himself with respect to the needs and the pleasure of his fellows, doing as they do, and in case of danger and necessity uniting with them in the effort to help and protect. 20. King David did not regard his kingdom and his God-bestowed blessings as his real glory, but as his office, his opportunities for service in this earthly pilgrimage. In it all he remains a guest, expecting to leave this tarrying-place for a certain abode. Hence he says (Ps 39, 12): "I am a stranger with thee, a sojourner, as all my fathers were." How is that? Has a king of David's glorious rank occasion to speak thus? Is he a guest who occupies a royal throne, who is lord of landed estate and of more than twelve hundred thousand people according to his own calculation? This is David's meaning: In his kingdom he serves God as a transient here on earth, and set apart by God for that purpose; but at the same time as a citizen of God's kingdom in another life, another existence, which he regards more glorious than earthly glory, and as affording something better than a temporal crown. REASONS TO ABSTAIN FROM CARNAL LUST. 21. Such is Peter's teaching. He admonishes Christians to Christlike lives and works in view of the fact that they are called to great glory, having become through Christ a royal priesthood, a people of God and citizens of heaven. He would have them occupy this temporal world as guests, striving after another and eternal kingdom; that is, to abstain from all carnal lusts and maintain a blameless walk, a life of good works. The apostle assigns two reasons for such self-denial: First, that we may not, through carnal, lustful habits, lose the spiritual and eternal; second, that God's name and the glory we have in Christ may not be slandered among our heathen adversaries, but rather, because of our good works, honored. These are the chief reasons for doing good works. They ought most forcibly to urge us to the performance of our duties. 22. Peter admonishes, first, to "abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul." He implies that if we do not resist carnal inclinations, but rather follow them, we shall lose our priceless eternal inheritance. To be a stranger on earth, striving after another and better life, is inconsistent with living in fleshly lusts as if one's sole intent was to remain in the world forever. If you would have the things of one life, Peter says, you must forsake the things of the other. If you forget your fatherland and lie drunken with this carnal life, as does the heathen world in living in unbelief and without hope of eternal life, you will never reach yonder existence; for so you reject it. It is necessary to strive if we are to withstand the lusts of the flesh; for these, Peter says, war against the soul--against faith and the good conscience in man. If lust triumphs, our hold on the Spirit and on faith is lost. Now, if you would not be defeated, you must valiantly contend against carnal inclinations, being careful to overcome them and to maintain your spiritual, eternal good. In this instance, our own welfare demands the conquest. 23. In the second place, God's honor calls for it. God's honor here on earth is affected by our manner of life. We are to avoid giving occasion for our enemies to open their mouths in calumniation of God's name and his Word. Rather must we magnify the name of God by our confession and general conduct, and thus win others, who shall with us confess and honor him. Christ commands (Mt 5, 16): "Even so let your light shine before men; that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven." 24. Peter proceeds to enumerate certain good works appropriate to Christians in all stations of life, particularly those Christians under authority, or in a state of servitude--men-servants and maid-servants. In the apostle's day, Christians had to submit to heathen authority--to serve unbelieving masters. Peter admonishes Christians to glorify God by their conduct, patiently bearing the violence and injustice offered, and forbearing to return evil; as we heard in the epistle lesson for the preceding Sunday which follows today's text. But to take up all the good works Peter enumerates here would require too much time at present. _Third Sunday After Easter_ Second Sermon. Text: First Corinthians 15, 20-28. 20 But now hath Christ been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of them that are asleep. 21 For since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. 22 For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. 23 But each in his own order: Christ the firstfruits; then they that are Christ's, at his coming. 24 Then cometh the end, when he shall deliver up the kingdom to God, even the Father; when he shall have abolished all rule and all authority and power. 25 For he must reign, till he hath put all his enemies under his feet. 26 The last enemy that shall be abolished is death. 27 For, He put all things in subjection under his feet. But when he saith, All things are put in subjection, it is evident that he is excepted who did subject all things unto him. 28 And when all things have been subjected unto him, then shall the Son also himself be subjected to him that did subject all things unto him, that God may be all in all. We have no desire to reject the Sunday epistle readings in common use up to this time, particularly as some of them are excellent and profitable; nevertheless, a different order and selection might well have been made. For portions have been taken from James for the two Sundays following, the intent of the compilers having been to choose something from each of the apostles, among whom they regarded James one of the chief. These selections, however, seem not to have been written by an apostle; they do not at all compare with the selections from the other apostles. It were better for the instruction and comfort of the people, and as befitting this season, to handle the article of the resurrection--concerning the resurrection of both Christ and ourselves, or of all the dead--between Easter and Pentecost. It seems appropriate so to do, making selections from the preaching of the apostles; for instance, the entire fifteenth chapter of Paul's first epistle to the Corinthians, which treats throughout of the resurrection of the dead. Therefore, we shall arrange this chapter to the present and following Sundays. It is our intent to so use it hereafter, and they who feel disposed may adopt it likewise. But it is not our purpose in so doing to restrict those who prefer the old arrangement. The entire fifteenth chapter, however, being amply explained in special sermons, we would advise everyone to read those expositions. _Fourth Sunday After Easter_ Text: First Corinthians 15, 35-50. 35 But some one will say, How are the dead raised? and with what manner of body do they come? 36 Thou foolish one, that which thou thyself sowest is not quickened except it die: 37 and that which thou sowest, thou sowest not the body that shall be, but a bare grain, it may chance of wheat, or of some other kind; 38 but God giveth it a body even as it pleased him, and to each seed a body of its own. 39 All flesh is not the same flesh; but there is one flesh of men, and another flesh of beasts, and another flesh of birds, and another of fishes. 40 There are also celestial bodies, and bodies terrestrial; but the glory of the celestial is one, and the glory of the terrestrial is another. 41 There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star differeth from another star in glory. 42 So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown in corruption; it is raised in incorruption: 43 it is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory: it is sown in weakness; it is raised in power; 44 it is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. 45 So also it is written, The first man Adam became a living soul. The last Adam became a life-giving spirit. 46 Howbeit that is not first which is spiritual, but that which is natural; then that which is spiritual. 47 The first man is of the earth, earthy; the second man is of heaven. 48 As is the earthy, such are they also that are earthy: and as is the heavenly, such are they also that are heavenly. 49 And as we have borne the image of the earthy we shall also bear the image of the heavenly. 50 Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; neither doth corruption inherit incorruption. This selection follows immediately after the one we have arranged for the preceding Sunday, concerning the resurrection of the dead. In the text Paul deals with the question, How are the dead raised, and with what body do they come? This passage likewise is treated fully enough in the sermons on the fifteenth chapter, and they who desire may read those discourses; they are too lengthy to insert here. The selection from the first chapter of James, however, having commonly been read for this Sunday, and as it contains good instruction and admonition, we will, for the sake of some who may desire to retain it, allow it to remain; and we will make some explanation of it lest we be thought to desire its rejection altogether. It was not, however, written by an apostle. It does not bear the apostolic stamp in all particulars, and is not in every respect compatible with the true doctrine. _Fourth Sunday After Easter_ Second Sermon.[1] Text: James 1, 16-21. 16 Be not deceived, my beloved brethren. 17 Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom can be no variation, neither shadow that is cast by turning. 18 Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures. 19 Ye know this, my beloved brethren. But let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: 20 for the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God. 21 Wherefore putting away all filthiness and overflowing of wickedness, receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls. [Footnote 1: This sermon was printed first in the "Two Sermons on Anger," by Luther, Wittenberg, 1536.] 1. This lesson was addressed to all Christians. Particularly was it meant for the time when they had to endure from the unbelieving world persecutions severe and oft; as James indicates at the outset, where he says (verses 2-4): "Count it all joy, my brethren, when ye fall into manifold temptations; knowing that the proving of your faith worketh patience. And let patience have its perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire." Again (verse 12): "Blessed is the man that endureth temptation." WHY MEN REJECT THE GOSPEL. 2. Two things there are which part men from the Gospel: one is angry impatience, and the other evil lust. Of these James speaks in this epistle. The former sin, he says, arises under persecution--when for the sake of Christ the Lord you must give up property and honor, and risk body and life; must be regarded as fools, as the drudges, yes, the footstool, of the world. Painful and intolerable to the point of discouragement and weariness is such a lot, particularly when it is apparent that your persecutors enjoy good fortune, having honor, power and wealth, while you suffer constantly. Peter, too, admonishes (1 Pet 3, 10), upon authority of Psalm 34, 12-14: He who would be a Christian must be prepared to avoid evil and do good, to seek peace, to refrain his tongue from evil and his lips from speaking guile, and must commit himself to God. In the case of a great many people otherwise favorably disposed toward the Gospel, it is nothing but persecution which deters and repels them from it. They cannot endure the injuries and reproaches they must suffer for its sake. But for the precious holy cross which is laid upon Christians, and their inability to overcome indignation and impatience, the world would long ago have been crowded with Christians. But on account of trials men recoil, saying: "Rather than endure these, I will remain with the majority; as it is with them, so be it with me." 3. The second thing to which James refers is worldly lust--"filthiness," as James terms it. This, too, is a prevailing evil, particularly with the common people. When they once hear the Gospel they are prone to think right away that they know all about it. They cease to heed it and drown in lust, pride and covetousness of the world, being concerned entirely with accumulating wealth and seeking pleasure. 4. That these two evils prevail is apparent to the eyes of all men today. We fear that we shall fare no better than the prophets and the apostles; these things are likely to continue. Nevertheless, we must unceasingly exert ourselves in behalf of ourselves and others to guard diligently against both these evils. Particularly must we not impatiently murmur and rage against God; we must also show meekness toward our fellowmen, to the end that wrath everywhere may be quelled and subdued, and only patience and meekness reign among Christians. 5. As I said before, such seems to be the trend of the whole text. The apostle gives a reason why we should be patient to the extent of not allowing ourselves to be vexed with them who injure us, especially ungrateful rejecters of the Word of God or persecutors of Christians. The reason he assigns is the debt of gratitude we owe: we are to remember the great good we receive from God in heaven--"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights." OUR BLESSINGS OUTWEIGH OUR ILLS. 6. If you carefully balance our gifts and trials against each other and weigh them carefully, you will find the blessings conferred upon you so numerous and rich as far to outweigh the injuries and reproaches you must incur. Therefore, if you are assailed by the world, and are provoked to impatience by ingratitude, contempt and persecution, compare with your trials the blessings and consolations you have in Christ and his Gospel. You will soon find you have more reason to pity your enemies than you have to murmur and to rage against them. 7. Again, concerning them who live in worldly lusts--in "filthiness," as the apostle terms it: let not their conduct induce you to forsake the Gospel to be like them; for their portion is altogether paltry in comparison with your glorious blessings and divine riches. Take thought, then, and do not allow yourselves to be misled either by the wanton wickedness of the world, through the injury and pain it may inflict, or by the prosperity of the world's wealthy, who live riotously in all manner of voluptuousness. Look upon what you have from the Father in comparison--his divine blessings, his perfect gifts. 8. For the sake of distinction, we shall designate by "good gifts" the blessings we enjoy here in this life; by "perfect gifts" those awaiting us in the life to come. James implies this distinction when he says: "Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of first-fruits of his creatures." In the terms "good gifts" and "perfect gifts," the apostle comprehends all our blessings, those we have already received in the present life and those to be ours in the life to come. 9. I will not now speak particularly of earthly, transient and changeable blessings, such as temporal goods, honor, a healthy body and others, but could we only compare our blessings with these and weigh our treasures and surpassing blessings, we should presently conclude that ours transcend in value a hundred thousand times anything the world possesses and boasts. Many individuals there are who would give thousands of dollars to have the sight of both eyes. So much do they prize the blessing of sight, they would willingly suffer a year's illness or endure other great inconveniences to obtain it. Less sensible would they be to such discomforts than to the deprivation of the thing they desire. Of physical blessings particularly, we shall not now speak, however, save to mention that they are never equaled by physical ills. Who can purchase or merit, even by enduring tenfold his present physical ills, the very least of God's gifts; as, for instance, the beholding of the light of the beautiful sun for a single day? And so long as mortal life itself remains, you have the greatest of blessings, one outweighing far all gold and silver and all the misfortunes you may endure. OUR BLESSINGS IN CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. But we shall speak now particularly of the blessings we have in Christ's resurrection, a subject appropriate to this Paschal season. The text says, Every good gift and every perfect gift cometh down from the Father of lights. For God has begun the work of edifying us, of building us up, and will constitute us his own children, his heirs. This work, James says, is wrought through the Gospel, or "the word of truth," as he terms it. 10. But what does the resurrection advantage us? It has already brought us this gain: our hearts are enlightened and filled with joy, and we have passed from the darkness of sin, error and fear into the clear light; the Christian is able to judge all sects, all doctrines of devils, that may arise on earth. Is it not a thing of unspeakable value, a precious gift, to be enlightened and taught of God to the extent of being able to judge correctly every doctrine and every kind of conduct exhibited in this world, and to show all men how to live--what to do and what to avoid? Well may we boast, then, of having here on earth also a Father--"the Father of lights"--from whom we receive blessings of such magnitude that man should willingly yield body and life for their attainment. What would I in my darkness not have given to be liberated from the very dread which prompted the celebration of masses and other abominations, yes, from the torture and anguish of conscience which left me no rest? or to have instruction enabling me rightly to interpret a single psalm? I would, for such enlightenment, readily have crawled on the ground to the ends of the earth. Thank God, we now have the blessed treasure abundantly, the great and precious light, the gracious Word. What is the sum of all suffering and misfortune compared to this light? 11. Secondly, through Christ's resurrection we have a good, joyous conscience, one able to withstand every form of sin and temptation and to maintain a sure hope of eternal life. The great, glorious gifts and blessings of the resurrection are these: the Gospel, Holy Baptism, the power of the Holy Spirit, and comfort in all adversity. What is a slight injury or the loss of some temporal blessing in comparison with these? What reason has any man to murmur and to rage when such divine blessings are his, even here in this life, blessings which none can take away or abridge? If, then, you are called to renounce money, possessions, honor and men's favor, remember you have a treasure more precious than all the honors and all the possessions of the world. Again, when you see one living in great splendor, in pleasure and presumption, following his own inclinations, think thus: "What has he? A wretched portion, a beggarly morsel. In contrast, I have divine grace enabling me to know God's will and the work he would have me do, and all in heaven and on earth is mine." Look, says James, upon the treasure already obtained from the Father of lights--his great and glorious gifts. 12. But these do not represent the consummation of resurrection blessings. We must yet await the real, the perfect, gifts. Our earthly condition does not admit of perfection; hence we cannot truly perceive, cannot comprehend, our treasure. We are but "a kind of first-fruits of his creatures." God has only commenced to work in us, but he will not leave us in that state. If we continue in faith, not allowing ourselves to be turned away through wrath and impatience, God will bring us to the real, eternal blessings, called "perfect gifts," the possession of which excludes error, stumbling, anger, and any sin whatever. THE FUTURE LIFE OF BLESSEDNESS. 13. That future existence, James goes on to say, will be one wherein is "no variation, neither shadow that is cast by turning"--no alternating of light and darkness. In other words, there will not be the variation and instability characteristic of this world, even of the Christian life--today joyous, tomorrow sad; now standing but soon tottering. It is in the Christian life just as in the physical world: we find variableness and continual change--light is succeeded by darkness, day by night, cold by heat; here are mountains, there valleys; today we are well, tomorrow ill; and so it goes. But all this change shall be abolished. The present life shall be succeeded by one wherein is no variation, but a permanence and eternity of blessing. We shall unceasingly behold God in his majesty where dwells no darkness, no death, plague nor infirmity, but pure light, joy and happiness. Look to this future life! call it to mind, when assailed by the world and enticed to anger or evil lust. Remember the great blessings of heaven assuredly promised you, and whereof Christ your Head has already taken possession, that he may make sure your entrance into the same blessings. These should be to you far more precious and desirable than the things of earth, which all men must leave behind. 14. To these things the Christian should direct his thoughts and efforts, that he may learn to prize his blessings, to recognize his treasures as great and glorious, and to thank God for the beginnings of his grace and blessing bestowed here below. Let us ever look and turn toward true knowledge and understanding, toward righteousness and life; so shall we attain that perfection wherein we are freed from the present imperfect, unstable existence, the yoke we now bear upon our necks and which continually weighs upon us and renders us liable to fall from the Gospel. Impulse and aid for such pursuit we are to receive from the holy cross and persecution, as well as from the example of the world. With what ease the poor, wretched people are wrested from the Word and from faith, wherein they might enjoy unspeakable grace and blessings, by the sordid, beggarly pleasures to be sought for here! 15. Therefore, James says: "Why trouble yourselves about earthly blessings, which though God-given are transitory? Why not much rather rejoice in the comforting prospect of the great heavenly blessings already abundantly yours and which cannot be taken from you?" And by way of explanation he says further: "Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth." GOD'S CHILDREN BEGOTTEN BY THE WORD. 16. The first, and in fact the best, thing Christ has sent us from on high is sonship. He brought us forth, made us his children, or heirs. We are truly called children born of God. But how are we born? Through "the Word of truth," or the true Word. By this statement James makes a wide thrust at all factions and sects. For they also have a word and boast much of their doctrine, but theirs is not the Word of truth whereby men are made children of God. They teach naught, and know naught, about how we are to be born God's children through faith. They prate much about the works done by us in the state derived from Adam. But we have a Word whereby, as we are assured, God makes us his beloved children and justifies us--if we believe in that Word. He justifies us not through works or laws. The Christian must derive his sonship from his birth. All whittling and patching is to no purpose. The disciples of Moses, and all work-mongers, would effect it by commandments, extorting a work here and a work there, effecting nothing. New beings are needed, children of God by birth, as John 1, 12 says. 17. The children of God, John tells us, are they who believe on the name of Christ; that is, who sincerely cling to the Word. John extols the Word as the great, the mighty, gift. They are children who cleave to the message that through Christ God forgives their sins and receives them into his favor; who adhere to this promise in all temptations, afflictions and troubles. The Word here on earth is the jewel which secures sonship. Now, since God has so greatly blessed you as to make you his own begotten children, shall he not also give you every other good? 18. Whence, then, do you derive sonship? Not from your own will, not from your own powers or efforts. Were it so, I and other monks surely should have obtained it, independently of the Word; it would have been ours through the numerous works we performed in our monastic life. It is secured, James says, "of his will." For it never entered into the thought of any man that so should we be made children of God. The idea did not grow in our gardens; it did not spring up in our wells. But it came down from above, "from the Father of lights," by Word and Spirit revealed to us and given into our hearts through the agency of his apostles and their successors, by whom the Word has been transmitted to us. Hence we did not secure it through our efforts or merits. Of his Fatherly will and good pleasure was it conferred upon us; of pure grace and mercy he gave it. CHRISTIANS THE FIRST-FRUITS. 19. James says, "That we should be a kind of first-fruits of his creatures"; that is, the newly-begun creature, or work, of God. By this phrase the apostle distinguishes the creatures of God from the creatures of the world, or creatures of men. Likewise does Peter when he says (1 Pet 2, 13), "Be subject to every ordinance [or creature] of man"; that is, to everything commanded, ordained, instituted, made, by men. For instance, a prince constitutes men tax-gatherers, squires, secretaries, or anything he desires, within the limits of his power. But new creatures are found with God. They are styled "creatures of God" because he has created them as his own work, independently of human effort or human power. And so the Christian is called a "new creature of God," a creature God himself has made, aside from all other creatures and higher than they. At the same time, such creation of God is only in its initial stage. He still daily operates upon it until it becomes perfect, a wholly divine creature, as the very sun in clearness and purity, without sin and imperfection, all aglow with love divine. 20. Take into careful consideration these facts. Keep before you the great blessing, honor and glory God has conferred upon you in making you heirs of the life to come, the life wherein shall be no imperfection nor variation, the life which shall be an existence in divine purity and protection like God's own. Do not, then, by any means allow yourselves to be provoked to anger by the wretched, sordid, beggar's wallet which the world craves. Rather, much rather, rejoice in the divine blessings, and thank God for having made you worthy of them. Whether sweet or bitter--in comparison with these let everything else be spurned. "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed to us-ward"--to us the children of God--says Paul in Romans 8, 18. IMPATIENT ANGER FORBIDDEN. 21. So James draws the conclusion: "Let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath." In other words, in receiving counsel or comfort be swift; but do not permit yourselves readily to criticise, curse, or upbraid God or men. James does not mean to prohibit reproof, censure, indignation and correction where the command of God or necessity requires; but he forbids rashness or hastiness on our part, despite our provocation in the premises. When we are provoked we should first hear what the Word of God says and be advised thereby. It is the right and true counsel, and we should ever permit ourselves to be led by it; according to its teaching should all our decisions, reproofs and censures be regulated. In immediate connection, James bids us receive the Word with meekness; we are not to be incensed when censured by its authority, or to become impatient and murmur when we have to suffer something because of it. The reason James assigns for restraining our anger is: "For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God." This is a truth admitted even by the heathen--"Ira furor brevis est," etc.--and verified by experience. Therefore, upon authority of Psalm 4, 4, when you feel your wrath rising, sin not, but go to your chamber and commune with yourself. Let not wrath take you by surprise and cause you to yield to it. When slander and reproach is heaped upon you, or curses given, do not rashly allow yourself to be immediately inflamed with anger. Rather, take heed to overcome the provocation and not to respond to it. 22. The apostle's first point, then, is: Christians should guard against yielding to wrath and impatience, and should remember the great blessings they enjoy--gifts wherewith all the advantages and favors of the world are unworthy of comparison. 23. Similarly, James says regarding the other point: "Wherefore putting away all filthiness and overflowing of wickedness," etc. By "filthiness" he means the impure life of the world--indulgence, voluptuousness and knavery of every sort. These things, he would say, should be far from you Christians who enjoy blessings so great and glorious. Could you rightly recognize and appreciate these blessings, you would regard all worldly pursuits and pleasures mere filth in comparison. Nor is this overdrawn; they are such when contrasted with the good and perfect heavenly gifts and treasures. 24. "Receive with meekness the implanted word." You have the Word, James says, a Word which is yours not by your own fancy or effort, but which God, by grace, gave to you--implanted in you. It has free course--is preached, read and sung among you. (By the grace of God, it is free among us, too.) In this respect, God be praised, there is no lack. It is of the utmost importance, however, to receive it, to make profitable use of it; to handle it with meekness that we may hold it fast and not allow it to be effaced by anger under persecution or by the allurements of worldly lusts. Christ says (Lk 21, 19), "In your patience possess ye your souls [ye shall win your souls]." MEEKNESS AND PATIENCE ENJOINED. Meekness and patience are necessary to enable us to triumph over the devil and the world. Without them we shall not be able to hold fast the Word in our strife against those evil forces. We must fight and contend against sin, but if we essay to cool our wrath by grasping the devil and his followers by the hair and wreaking vengeance upon them, we will accomplish nothing and may thereby lose our treasure, the beloved Word. Therefore, lay hold of the Word planted or engrafted within you, that you may be able to retain it and have it bring forth its fruit in yourself. THE POWER OF THE WORD. 25. It is a Word, says James in conclusion, "which is able to save your souls." What more could be desired? You have the Word, the promise of all divine blessings and gifts. It is able to save you if you but steadfastly cleave to it. Why, then, need you take any account of the world, and anything it may do, whether good or evil? What injury can the world render, what help can it offer, so long as you hold the treasure of the Word? Observe that the apostle ascribes to the spoken Word, the preached Gospel, the power to save souls. Similarly, Paul commends it to the Romans (ch. 1, 16), in almost the same words, as "the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth." 26. Now, the Word is implanted within you in a way to give you the certain comfort and sure hope of your salvation. Be careful, then, not to permit yourselves to be wrested from it by the wrath or the filth of the world. Take heed to accept in purity and to maintain with patience the Word so graciously and richly given you by God without effort or merit on your part. Those who are without the Word, and yet endeavor to attain heaven, what efforts have they made in the past! what efforts are they making today! They might torment themselves to death; they might institute and celebrate every possible service--they would accomplish nothing. Is it not better to cling to the Word and maintain this treasure whereby you attain salvation and divine sonship than to permit the world to wrest you from it through persecution, passion or moral filth the source of its own ruin and perdition? _Fifth Sunday After Easter_ Text: First Corinthians 15, 51-58. 51 Behold, I tell you a mystery: We all shall not sleep, but we shall all be changed, 52 in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. 53 For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. 54 But when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. 55 O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting? 56 The sting of death is sin; and the power of sin is the law: 57 but thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 58 Wherefore, my beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not vain in the Lord. You will find this lesson explained in the special sermons on the same chapter. _Ascension Day_ Text: Acts 1, 1-11. 1 The former treatise I made, O Theophilus, concerning all that Jesus began both to do and to teach, 2 until the day in which he was received up, after that he had given commandment through the Holy Spirit unto the apostles whom he had chosen: 3 to whom he also showed himself alive after his passion by many proofs, appearing unto them by the space of forty days, and speaking the things concerning the kingdom of God: 4 and being assembled together with them, he charged them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the promise of the Father, which, said he, ye heard from me: 5 for John indeed baptized with water; but ye shall be baptized in the Holy Spirit not many days hence. 6 They therefore, when they were come together, asked him, saying, Lord, dost thou at this time restore the kingdom to Israel? 7 And he said unto them, It is not for you to know times or seasons, which the Father hath set within his own authority. 8 But ye shall receive power, when the Holy Spirit is come upon you: and ye shall be my witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth. 9 And when he had said these things, as they were looking, he was taken up; and a cloud received him out of their sight. 10 And while they were looking stedfastly into heaven as he went, behold two men stood by them in white apparel; 11 who also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye looking into heaven? this Jesus, who was received up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye beheld him going into heaven. This epistle text is simply a narrative concerning the visible ascension of Christ into heaven. It is in itself clear. Whatever it may be necessary to say relative to the article of Christ's ascension, we shall leave for the sermons on the Festivals of Christ as they occur at intervals during the year, at which times it is fitting to speak particularly of each article concerning Christ. _Sunday After Ascension Day_ Text: First Peter 4, 7-11.[1] 7 But the end of all things is at hand: be ye therefore of sound mind, and be sober unto prayer: 8 above all things being fervent in your love among yourselves: for love covereth a multitude of sins: 9 using hospitality one to another without murmuring: 10 according as each hath received a gift, ministering it among yourselves, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God; 11 if any man speaketh, speaking as it were oracles of God; if any man ministereth, ministering as of the strength which God supplieth: that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, whose is the glory and the dominion for ever and ever. Amen. [Footnote 1: This sermon appeared as early as 1525 in pamphlet form.] EXHORTATION TO CHRISTIAN LIVING. 1. This text, too, is an admonition to Christian living, a discourse concerning the fruits of a good tree, a figure applied to the Christian; in other words, concerning the fruits of the one who, through faith, has obtained redemption from sin and death and has a place in the kingdom of grace and of eternal life. Such a one is exhorted to live henceforth in a manner indicative of the fact that he has apprehended the treasure of salvation and is become a new man. EXHORTATION TO SOBERNESS. 2. Certain good works are also introduced, and in the first part of our text Peter makes an especially emphatic continuation of the admonition in the foregoing part of the chapter, warning Christians to abstain from gross vices--carnal lusts--which in the world lead to obscenity, and from the wild, disorderly, swinish lives of the heathen world, lives of gormandizing, guzzling and drunkenness. Peter admonishes Christians to endeavor to be "sober unto prayer." The epistle was written chiefly to the Greeks, the masses of which people were very social, and inclined to carouse and gormandize. And we Germans are accused of the same excess; not without some reason either. 3. With intent to turn Christians from these vices unto temperance and sobriety, Peter reminds them, as all the apostles are wont to do, of the obligations particularly incident to the Christian calling, to the only true, divine service, the things for the sake of which they have become Christians and which distinguish them from the remainder of the world. His meaning is: It is not for Christians to lead lives heathenish, profligate and riotous; to indulge in gormandizing, guzzling, carousing and demoralizing of themselves. They have something nobler to do. First, in that they are to become different beings, and be occupied with the Word of God wherefrom they derive their new birth and whereby they preserve it. Second, being born anew, they have enemies to fight; so long as they live on earth, they must combat the devil, also their own flesh, which is corrupted by the devil until it is full of evil lusts. Having, then, to assume the obligations of this calling and contest, they must not give way to drowsy indolence; much less may they become foolish, drunken sots, indifferent to all issues and heedless of their obligations. Rather, they have need to be watchful and sober, ever ready with the Word of God and with prayer. 4. These are the two kinds of armor, two weapons of defense, whereby the devil is vanquished and of which he is afraid: First, diligence in hearing, learning and practicing the Word of God, that instruction, comfort and strength may be received; second, sincere petitioning upon the authority of that Word, a crying and calling to God for help when temptations and conflicts arise. One or the other of these weapons of defense must continually be in active exercise, effecting perpetual intercourse between God and man--either God speaking to us while we quietly listen, or God hearing our utterances to him and our petitions concerning our needs. Whichever the weapon we wield, it is unendurable to the devil; he cannot abide it. Christians need both equipments, that their hearts may ever turn to God, cleave to his Word, and continually, with ceaseless longing, pray a perpetual Lord's Prayer. Truly, the Christian should learn from the temptations and straits wherewith the devil, the world and the flesh constantly oppress him, to be ever on his guard, watching for the enemy's point of attack; for the enemy sleeps not nor rests a single moment. 5. Here is applicable Peter's injunction for the Christian to keep within the bounds of physical temperance and sobriety; not to overload the body and injure it by excessive eating and drinking: so as to be watchful, intelligent, and in a mood, to pray. He who is not careful to discharge the obligations of his office or station with temperance and sobriety, but is daily in a sottish condition, is incapable of praying or performing any other Christian duty; he is unfit for any service. 6. Right here a special admonitory sermon might well be preached to us dissolute Germans, in warning for our excesses and drunkenness. But where would be forthcoming a sermon forcible enough to restrain the shameful sottishness and the drink devil among us? The evil of overindulgence has, alas, swept in upon us like a torrent, overwhelming as a flood all classes. It daily spreads further and further throughout the nation, embracing every station from the lowest to the highest. All preaching, all admonition, seem far too weak--not vain and impotent, but despised and scorned--to meet the emergency. But the apostles, and even Christ himself, declared that in the end of the world such a state of affairs should obtain. For that very reason did Christ (Lk 21, 34) admonish Christians to take heed to themselves lest at any time their hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness and the cares of this life, and so that day come upon them unawares. 7. Now, God having in his infinite goodness so richly shed upon us Germans in these latter times the Gospel light, we ought, in honor and gratitude to him, to try to reform ourselves in the matter of intemperance. We should fear lest through this evil besides committing other sins we draw upon us the wrath and punishment of God. For naught else can result from the pernicious life of intemperance but false security, and contempt of God. Individuals continually dead in drunkenness, buried in excesses, living like swine, cannot fear God, cannot be occupied with divine things. 8. Had we no other incentive to abandon our intemperate living, the scandalous reputation we have among the nations ought to move us to reform. Other countries, particularly those bordering on Germany, regard us with extreme contempt, calling us drunken Germans. For they have virtue enough to abstain from excessive drinking. The Turks are real monks and saints in this respect; so far are they from the evil of intemperance that in obedience to the teaching of their Mohammed they prohibit the drinking of wine or any other intoxicant, and punish the offense as the greatest evil in their midst. For this very reason are they better soldiers than our drunken masses. They are always awake and vigilant, alert concerning their own interests, planning attacks upon us and continually extending their dominion, while we lie sleeping in our excesses as if we could withstand the Turks by drunkenness and carousing. 9. But what is the use of multiplying words on the subject when the evil prevails to such extent as to be common custom in the land? No longer confined to the rude, illiterate rabble, to country villages and public taverns, it has penetrated all cities and entered nearly every house, being particularly prevalent among the nobility--in the courts of princes. I recall that when I was young drunkenness was regarded an inexpressibly shameful thing among the peerage, and that the dear lords and princes restrained it with serious prohibitions and punishments. But now it is more alarmingly prevalent among them than among farmers. It is generally the case that when the great and good begin to go down, they sink to a lower level than others. Yes, intemperance has attained such prevalence that even princes and lords have learned the habit from their young noblemen and are no longer ashamed of it. Rather, they call it honorable, making it a civil virtue befitting princes and noblemen. Whosoever will not consent to be a drunken sot with them, must be discountenanced; while the knights who stand for beer and wine obtain high honors, and great favors and privileges, on account of their drinking. They desire fame in this respect, as if they had secured their nobility, their shield and helmet, by the very fact that they exceed others in the shamelessness of their tippling. 10. Yes, and have we not further reason for checking the evil when even the young practice it without fear or shame? They learn it from the aged, and unrestrained they disgracefully and wantonly injure themselves in the very bloom of life, destroying themselves as corn is cut down by hail and tempest. The majority of the finest, most promising young people, particularly the nobility, they of court circles, ruin their health, body and life, before arriving at maturity. How can it be otherwise when they who should restrain and punish commit the same sins themselves? 11. Hence Germany has always been a wretched country, chastised and plagued by the drink devil, and completely immersed in this vice, until the bodies and lives of her people, as well as their property and honor, are shamefully consumed and only a sordid existence remains. He who would paint the conditions must portray something swinish. Indeed, but a small proportion of the inhabitants of Germany are undebased by this evil. These are children, girls and women. Some sense of propriety in the matter remains to them, though occasionally we find even under the veil some intemperance; however, it is with restraint. Enough modesty remains to inspire the universal sentiment that so disgraceful a thing is it for a woman to be drunk, such a one deserves to be trampled upon in the streets. 12. In the light of their example, let us men learn to see our own shame and to blush for it. While noting how disgraceful is drunkenness for women, let us remember it is much more so for ourselves. We ought to be saner and more virtuous; for, according to Peter, the woman is the weaker vessel. Because of the weakness of women, we ought to have more patience with them. Man being endowed with a broader mind, stronger faculties and firmer nature, he should be the saner being, the farther removed from the brute. It stands to reason that it is a much greater disgrace for him to indulge in the vice of drunkenness. In proportion to the nobility of his creation and the exalted nature wherewith God has endowed him, should be the disgrace of such unreasoning, brutish conduct on his part. 13. What can be said for us? So complete is the perversion of all manly virtue and honor in our conduct in this respect that it cannot be surpassed by any other possible degradation of manhood. There remains to us but an atom of good reputation, and that is to be found among the women. The occasional instance of drunkenness among them but emphasizes our own disgrace. All countries look upon us with scorn and contempt, regarding us as shameful and sordid creatures, day and night bent upon making ourselves surfeited and stupid, possessing neither reason nor intelligence. The evil would be more tolerable, more excusable, if drinking and carousing had any limit, if intoxication were but an occasional thing--the case of a person inadvertently taking one drink too much, or of taking a stimulant when tired from excessive labor and worry. We excuse it in women who may chance to drink a little more at wedding parties than they are accustomed to at home. But this excessive guzzling kept up unceasingly day and night, emitting only to be filled again, is wholly inconsistent with the character of a prince, a nobleman, a citizen, yes, of a human being, not to mention the life of a Christian; it is really more in keeping with the nature and work of swine. 14. Now, when God and all mankind permit you to eat and to drink, to enjoy good things, not merely what is necessary for actual subsistence, but in a measure calculated to afford gratification and pleasure, and you are yet not satisfied with that privilege--when such is the case, your sordid and gluttonous tendencies are worthy one born solely to consume beer and wine. But such are the excesses now to be seen in the courts of princes--the banqueting and the drinking--that one would think they meant to devour the resources of the country in a single hour. Lords, princes, noblemen--the entire country, in fact--are ruined, reduced to beggary, for the particular reason that God's gifts are so inhumanly wasted and destroyed. 15. As I said before, the evil of drunkenness has, alas, gained such ascendency as to be past restraint unless the Word of God may exert some controlling influence among the few, the individuals who are still human and who would be Christians. The masses will remain as they are, particularly as the civil government makes no effort to restrain the evil. It is my opinion that if God does not sometime check the vice by a special judgment--and until he does it will never be punished and restrained--even women and children will become inebriate, and when the last day arrives no Christian will be found but all souls will descend drunken into the abyss of hell. 16. Let all who desire to be Christians know that it is incumbent upon them to manifest the virtue of temperance; that drunken sots have no place among Christians, and cannot be saved until they amend their ways, until they reform from their evil habits. Concerning them Paul says plainly (Gal 5, 19-21): "Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousies, wraths, factions, divisions, parties, envyings, drunkenness, revellings, and such like; of which I forewarn you, even as I did forewarn you, that they who practice such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God." Here you see that he who lies day and night in drunkenness has no more inheritance in the kingdom of God than the whoremonger, adulterer, and such like. Know then, just as idolatry, adultery and so on, are sins excluding you from heaven, so too, drunkenness is a sin which bars you from the blessings of baptism, and from remission of sins, faith in Christ and your personal salvation. Hence, if you would be a Christian and saved, you must be careful to lead a sober and temperate life. But if you disregard this admonition and yet hope to be saved--well, then continue to be an infidel and a brute so long as God permits. 17. Were you a Christian, even if you could permit yourself to be unmoved by the physical injury wherein, by drunkenness, you plunge yourself, not only wasting your money and property, but injuring your health and shortening your life; and if you could permit yourself to be unmoved by the stigma justly recognized by men and angels as attaching to you, a filthy sot--even then you ought to be moved by God's command, by the peril of incurring eternal damnation--of losing God's grace and eternal salvation--to refrain from such unchristian conduct. O God, how shameless and ungrateful we are, we so highly blessed of God in having his Word and in being liberated from the tyranny of the Pope, who desired our sweat and blood and tortured our consciences with his laws--how ungrateful we are in the face of these things not to amend our lives in some measure in honor to the Gospel, and in praise and gratitude to God! 18. Where peradventure there are still pious parents or godfearing Christian rulers, they ought, for the sake of lessening the evil of intemperance, to restrain their children and domestics with serious chastisements. Pastors and preachers are under obligation to admonish the people frequently and faithfully, holding up to them God's displeasure and wrath and the injuries to soul, body and property resultant from this evil, to the intent that at least some might be moved and profited. And they who wantonly and openly persist in the vice, being not disposed to amend their conduct but at the same time boast of the Gospel, should not be allowed to participate in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper nor to act as sponsors at baptism. Preachers and pastors should hold such as openly antichristian, and should make a distinction against them the same as with manifest adulterers, extortioners and idolaters. Such is Paul's command (1 Cor 5, 11): "I wrote unto you not to keep company, if any man that is named a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a reviler, or a drunkard, or an extortioner; with such a one no, not to eat." NECESSITY FOR PRAYER. 19. But we will not now remark further upon this subject. To return to Peter: He admonishes us to be sober so that we may give ourselves to prayer, as becometh those who are Christians and have turned from the vile, heathenish conduct of the world. Just preceding our text, in verse 3, he says: "For the time past may suffice to have wrought the desire of the Gentiles, and to have walked in lasciviousness, lusts, winebibbings, revellings, carousings, and abominable idolatries." He admonishes us as being now called and ordained to contend against the devil by faith and prayer. Later on (ch. 5, 8) he brings in the same warning in clearer phrase, exhorting Christians to be sober and watchful. Do you ask, What is the great necessity therefor? he says: "Your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion [in the midst of a flock of sheep], walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." Peter's meaning is this: Since you are a people called to contend with this powerful spirit which is more intent on seizing your souls than is the wolf on seizing the sheep, it is essential you should take thought how to withstand him. Resistance is effected only through faith and prayer. But soberness and vigilance are necessary to enable one to pray. With gormandizers and drunkards, reason is dethroned and they are rendered incapable of respecting anything, or of performing any good work. Therefore, the ability to pray and call upon God has been taken from them and the devil overcomes and devours them at his will. 20. The diligence in prayer which characterized Christians of the primitive Church, even while undergoing great persecution, is apparent to us. They were more than willing to assemble daily for prayer together, not only morning and evening, but also at certain other appointed hours; and frequently they watched and prayed entire nights. Some of them, according to St. Augustine, carried their vigils to such extent as at times to abstain from food for four days. True, this was going to somewhat of an extreme, particularly when later the practice came to be an example and a commandment. Yet their habit of perfect sobriety morning, evening and at all times is commendable. With the cessation of this practice in the congregations, there succeeded the wretched order of monks, who pretend to do the praying for others. They, it is true, observed the same appointed hours, the same seasons of prayer, in their matins, vespers, and so on, but they did not really pray; they merely kept up an incessant sound, muttering and howling. We still retain from the ancient custom the observance of morning and evening prayers in schools for children. But the same practice should obtain in every Christian family. Every father is under obligation to train up his children to pray at least at the beginning and the close of day, commending to God every exigency of this earthly life, that God's wrath may be averted, and deserved punishment withheld. 21. Under such conditions, we would be properly instructed and not have to be subjected to intolerable oppression and to prohibitions relative to eating, drinking and dressing, being guided by nature's demands and our own honor and pleasure. Yet we would not be inordinate and brutish in these things nor shamefully dethrone reason. Drunkenness is a sin and a shame to any man, and would be even were there neither God nor commandment; much less can it be tolerated among Christians. There is more virtue in this respect among the very heathen and Turks. They put us to shame, while it is our place to set an example shaming them. Our characters ought to be so noble as to give no chance for offense at our conduct, that the name of God be not defamed but glorified, as Peter admonishes in the conclusion of this epistle lesson. TEMPERANCE IN ALL THINGS. 22. What we have said in regard to sobriety, we must also say relative to that other virtue--temperance,[2] to which Peter gives first place. They are mutually related, but temperance respects not only eating and drinking, but is opposed to all immoderation in outward life--in clothing, ornament, and so on; to whatever is superfluous, or excessive; to any extravagant attempt to be greater and better than others. To such extent has immoderation gained the upper hand in the world, there is nowhere any limit to expense in the way of household demands, dress, wedding parties and banquets, in the way of architecture, and so on, whereby citizens, rulers and the country itself are impoverished, because no individual longer keeps within proper bounds. Almost invariably the farmer aspires to equal the nobleman, while the nobleman would excel the prince. As with sobriety, so with the virtue of temperance--there is scarce to be found an example of it in our midst, so completely has self-control, sincerity and discipline given way. [Footnote 2: The German text uses the two words "maszig" and "nichtern," which may be rendered "temperate" and "sober."] 23. At the same time the apostle does not forbid appropriate and respectable recognition of the things of physical well-being, in keeping with each individual's station in life, even including things ministering pleasure and joy. For Peter would not have filthy, rusty, greasy monks nor sour-faced saints, with the hypocrisy and show of their simulated austere and peculiar lives, wherein they honor not their bodies, as Paul says (Col 2, 23), but are ever ready to judge and condemn other people--the maiden, for instance, who chances to join in a dance or wears a red dress. If you are a Christian in other respects, God will easily allow you to dress and to adorn yourself, and to live with comfort, even to enjoy honor and considerable pleasure, so long as you keep within proper bounds; you should, however, not go beyond the limits of temperance and moderation. In other words, do not overreach propriety and self-restraint, regardless of real pleasure, in the endeavor to show off in excessive and unprofitable squandering. Such conduct results in confusion and trouble--chastisement sent of God; in taxes, extortion, robbing and stealing, until finally lords and subjects are ruined together. "Above all things being fervent in your love [have fervent charity] among yourselves; for love [charity] covereth a multitude of sins." 24. In the foregoing part of the text, Peter admonishes Christians concerning their obligations to themselves; here he tells what is to be their conduct toward others. He embraces all the good works named in the second table of the commandments as obligations we owe to our neighbor, in the little but forcible and comprehensive phrase--"fervent in your love." This virtue, too, is incumbent on the Christian who must contend against the devil and pray. For prayer is hindered where love and harmony are displaced by wrath and ill-will. The Lord's Prayer teaches: "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." How can they pray one for another who feel no interest in a neighbor's wants, who rather are enemies, entertaining no good will toward one another? Where hearts are inflamed with hatred toward men, prayer has ceased; it is extinguished. Hence, antichristians and all popedom, however holy their appearance, cannot pray while enemies to the Word of God and persecutors of Christians. He who repeats the Lord's Prayer while indulging wrath, envy and hatred, censures his own lips; he condemns his own prayer when he seeks forgiveness from God but does not think of forgiving his neighbor. 25. With Christians there must be, not merely natural human affection such as exists even among heathen, but ardent, fervent love; not the mere appearance of love, the smoke--false, hypocritical love, as Paul calls it (Rom 12, 9)--but real fervor and fire, which consent not to be easily extinguished, but which endure like the love between husband and wife, or the love of parents for children. True conjugal and parental love is not easily quenched, even though the object of its affection be weak, diseased or dangerously ill. Rather the greater the need and the danger of one individual, the more is the heart of the other moved and the brighter does love burn. 26. Such sincere love, as the apostle elsewhere styles it, must exist among Christians who are all children of one Father in heaven and brothers and sisters. Indeed, they are under obligation to love even their enemies--who are human beings of the same flesh and blood--and to wish no one evil but rather to serve all wherever possible. This love is the beautiful red robe for the adornment of Christians, supplementing the pure white garment of faith received in baptism. It is to be worn in obedience to the example of Christ, who for us, even while we were enemies, wore the same red garment of love when he was sprinkled with his own blood. It was then he burned with the intense fire of ineffable and most exalted love. 27. The apostles were moved to admonitions of this character because they clearly perceived the great weakness and imperfection bound to exist among Christians even in their outward lives. They knew that no one could, in his everyday life among men, live so discreetly as not at some time or other, by word, gesture or act, to give offense to someone, moving him to anger. Such perfection of life is found in no family, not even with husband and wife. The case is the same as in the human body: one member frequently comes in conflict with another; a man may inadvertently bite his tongue or scratch his face. He who would be a saint so stern and selfish as to endure no evil words or acts, and to excuse no imperfections, is unfit to dwell among men. He knows nothing of Christian love, and can neither believe nor put into practice the article of the Creed concerning the forgiveness of sins. 28. So the Christian's fire of love must be characterized, not by a dull, cold red, but by a warm scarlet--according to the Scriptures (Ex 26, 1), "Coccum bis tinctam" (rose-red). This love retains its fire and is really true, having which the Christian is not easily disheartened and overcome by wrath, impatience and revenge, but to a certain extent is able to endure and tolerate attacks upon himself calculated to distress. It manifests itself more strongly in suffering and enduring than in action. 29. Therefore, Peter extols such love, declaring it to be a virtue potent not only to bear but to cover "a multitude of sins." This statement he introduces from the Proverbs of Solomon (ch. 10, 12). The Papists, however, pervert its meaning, explaining it in a way at variance with the doctrine of faith; they make of love to one's neighbor a work or virtue having merit with God. It is their desire to draw the conclusion that for the sake of our love our sins are covered; that is, forgiven and exterminated. But we shall not notice the dolts. It is clear enough from the text that reference is to hatred and love received from men; our own sins are not intended here, but the transgressions of others. To cover our sins in the sight of God, yet other love is requisite--the love of the Son of God, who alone is the bearer of sins in God's sight, and who, as John the Baptist says, takes away, bearing them upon his own shoulders, the sins of the whole world, including our own. And the example of his love teaches that we, too, should in love cheerfully bear and freely forgive the sins of others against us. 30. Solomon contrasts the two opposing principles of envious hatred and love, and shows the effect of each. "Hatred," he says, "stirreth up strifes; but love covereth all transgressions." Where hatred and enmity dwell in the heart, they must inevitably stir up strife and bring misfortune. Animosity cannot restrain itself. It either bursts out in pernicious language clandestinely uttered against the object of enmity, or it openly demeans itself in a manner indicating its ill will. Hence follow reveling, cursing, quarreling and fighting, and, when wholly unrestrained, cruelty and murder. These things are due to the fact that the eyes of Younker Hate are so blinded by scorn and venom that he can see only evil in every man with whom he comes in contact; and when he actually finds it he will not let it alone, but stirs it, roots and frets in it, as the hog roots with defiled snout in offensive filth. "You must have viewed your neighbor from behind," we say when one can speak and think only the worst of a neighbor though he may have many good traits. Hate really desires only that everyone be an enemy to his neighbor and speak the worst about him, and if he hears aught in his neighbor's favor, he puts upon it the very worst construction, with the result that the other party is embittered and in turn comes to hate, curse and revile. Thus the fire burns until only discord and mischief can obtain. 31. But on the other hand, as Solomon tells us, Love is a virtue pure and precious. It neither utters nor thinks any evil of its neighbor. Rather, it covers sin; not one sin, nor two, but "a multitude of sins"--great masses of them, forests and seas of sin, as it were. That is, love has no desire to reflect itself in a neighbor's sins and maliciously rejoice in them. It conducts itself as having neither seen nor heard them. Or, if they cannot be overlooked, it readily forgives, and so far as possible mends matters. Where nothing else can be done, it endures the sins of a neighbor without stirring up strife and making a bad matter worse. 32. The apostle, upon authority of observation and experience, acknowledges that where people dwell together there must be mutual transgressions; it cannot be otherwise. No one will always do what is pleasing to others, and each is liable to commit open wrong. Peter would teach that since men must live together in their respective stations in life--for the Scriptures make no recognition of singular and intolerant saints who would promptly run out of the world when some little thing takes place at variance with their opinions--he who would live peaceably must so control himself as to be able to bear with others, to overlook their imperfections, and to cover their transgressions and thus avert further resulting evil. Where no toleration is exercised, where no wrong is forgiven and forgotten, hate and envy must find place. The sole office of these is to stir up strife and contention. No peace and rest is to be had where they exist; wrangling and fighting, oppression and bitterness, must obtain. The unbounded ill-will, the innumerable strifes and wars, having place on earth, all result from the abominable evil of the lack of love among us and from the prevalence of pernicious hate, which leads to anger and revenge when opposition offers. Thus we become enemies to one another instead of to evil, when it is our duty to love our fellow-men. 33. Now, if you would live as a Christian and enjoy peace in the world, you must make every effort to restrain your anger and not to give way to revenge as do others. Rather you must suppress these passions, subduing your hatred by love, and be able to overlook and bear, even though you have to suffer great pain and injustice. So doing you will develop a noble character fitted to accomplish much good through patience and humility, to allay and abolish enmity, and strife, and thereby to reform and convert others. If you are unwilling to be patient under injustice, then go on hating and envying, impatiently blustering about and seeking revenge. But from such a proceeding only strife and disquietude can be your portion, though your complaints be long and your lamentations loud. You may run hither and thither, and still you will not find the truth otherwise than as I have stated. This text would have to be done away with first, and the Scriptures falsified. 34. Paul, having in mind Solomon's saying about love, in extolling the same virtue amplifies the latter's statement with various expressions, in the thirteenth of First Corinthians. Among other things he says there (verses 5-8): "Love seeketh not its own, is not provoked, taketh not account of evil; rejoiceth not in unrighteousness, but rejoiceth with the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never faileth," etc. This, mark you, is "being fervent in love," as Peter calls it. Here is the heat, the fire, effective to consume all evil and to replace it with only good. This fire will not permit itself to be quenched; it surmounts all checking. Whatever of evil is heaped upon it, it remains in itself good, and works only good. 35. The essential property, the "differentia essentialis," of genuine love, as its nature requires fervency, is the fact that it cannot be embittered. He who has it, will not cease to love, to do good and to endure evil. In a word love cannot hate; it cannot be at enmity with anyone. No evil can be wrought too great for love to endure. No one can commit against it more sins than it can cover. It cannot be enraged to the point of refusing to forgive. Its attitude is not unlike that of the mother toward her child. The child may be imperfect and impure, even filthy, but the mother notes it not, even if she sees it. Her love blinds her. The eyes wherewith she looks upon her child as the beautiful and God-given fruit of her own body are so pure that she overlooks all imperfections, regarding them as nothing. Indeed, she excuses, even glorifies, them. Although the child squints, it must not be called squint-eyed, but love-eyed, and even a wart must be thought to become it. 36. Behold, this is covering sins with love--a virtue peculiar to Christians. The world does not possess that virtue. Such love is impossible to it, whatever its pretensions and ostentations in that respect. However precious the world's love may be, it is subject to delusion, vanity and hypocrisy; for the world is false in appearance and pretension. No worldling likes to be regarded hateful and envious toward his neighbor, but succeeds in conducting himself, so far as word and gesture are concerned, in an affable manner to all. This attitude he maintains so long as we show him favors and obey his pleasure. But when our love for him becomes a little disaffected and we happen to offer a word he regards insulting, he promptly withdraws his affections and begins to complain and to rage as if he had been done a great wrong. He makes out he is under no obligation to endure the injustice; and he boastingly plumes himself on having shown great faithfulness and love to the offender, such fidelity as would have led him readily to share with that one the very heart in his body, and now he is so ill repaid that henceforth he will leave such people to be served by the devil. Such is the world's love. The world loves not "in deed," but "in word," as John expresses it. 1 Jn 3, 18. It has no sincerity of heart. Its love is a mere ignis-fatuus, shining but having no fire; a love which endures not, but is blown out by a breath--extinguished with a word. The reason of it all is, the world seeks only its own. It would be served, would receive from others, and not make any return, particularly if response must entail any suffering and forbearance on its part. 37. "But," you may say, "shall evil go unpunished? What would be the result were all evil to be tolerated and covered up? Would not that be giving the wicked opportunity to carry out their evil designs? Would it not encourage them in their wickedness until life would not be safe to anyone?" I reply: We have often stated what individuals properly merit our anger, and the extent and manner of punishment to be awarded them. It is truly the office of civil government and also of the father of every family to visit anger upon evil, and to punish and restrain it. Again, every pastor and preacher is commissioned--yes, every godly Christian--to admonish and censure when he sees a neighbor committing sin, just as one brother in a family admonishes another. But to be angry with evil and to inflict official punishment--punishment by virtue of office--is a different thing from being filled with hatred and revenge, or holding ill-will and being unforgiving. 38. It is not inconsistent with the character of love to be angry and to reprove when a neighbor is observed to sin. But true love feels no inclination to behold the sin and disgrace of a neighbor; rather, much rather, it desires his improvement. Just as parents correct with a rod a disobedient and obstinate child but do not cast it out and become enemies to it because of that disobedience, their object being only to reform the child, while the rod is cast away after chastisement; so, too, according to Christ's words (Mt 18, 15-17), you may censure your brother when he sins, and manifest your displeasure and indignation, that he may perceive and confess his wrong-doing, and if he does not then amend his conduct, you may inform the congregation. At the same time, his obstinacy does not justify you in becoming his enemy, or in entertaining ill-will toward him. As said before, love to be true must not be dull and cold, too indifferent to perceive a neighbor's sins; it must endeavor to relieve him thereof. It must have the red fire of fervor. He who truly loves will be distressed that a beloved neighbor wickedly trespasses against God and himself. Again, true love does not pale with hatred and revenge. It continues to glow red when the possessor's heart is moved with sympathy, is filled with compassion, for its neighbor. True, when fervor and admonition fail to effect any reform, the sincere-hearted Christian must separate himself from his obstinate neighbor and regard him as a heathen; nevertheless, he must not become his neighbor's enemy nor wish him evil. 39. Anger and censure prompted by sincere love are very different from the wrath, hatred and revengefulness of the world, which seeks only its own interests and is unwilling to tolerate any opposition to its pleasure. True love is moved to anger only when a neighbor's good demands. Though not insensible to evil and not approving evil, it is yet able to tolerate, to forgive and cover, all wrongs against itself, and it leaves untried no expedient that may make a neighbor better. Sincere love makes a clear distinction between the evil and the person; it is unfriendly to the former, but kind to the latter. "Using hospitality one to another without murmuring: according as each hath received a gift, ministering it among yourselves, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God." 40. Having admonished all Christians to love one another generally, Peter mentions various instances where love should be externally manifested among Christians, and speaks particularly of those who have been favored above others with special gifts and special offices in the Church, whereby they are able to serve their fellows. Thus he teaches that the Christian's whole external conduct should be regulated by that love which seeks not its own advantage, which aims not at profiting itself, but lives to serve its neighbor. 41. First, Peter says, "Using hospitality one to another." The reference is to works of love relative to the various physical needs of a neighbor. Christians are to serve one another by ministering temporal blessings. Especially are the poor and the wretched to be remembered, they who are strangers or pilgrims among us, or come to us houseless and homeless. These should receive the willing ministrations of Christians, and none be allowed to suffer want. 42. In the apostles' time, the primitive days of the Church, Christians were everywhere persecuted, driven from their possessions and forced to wander hither and thither in poverty and exile. It was necessary then to admonish Christians in general, and particularly those who had something of their own, not to permit these destitute ones to suffer want, but to provide for them. So, too, is it today incumbent upon Christians to provide for the really poor--not lazy beggars, or vagabonds--the outdoor pensioners, so called; and to maintain those who, because of old age or other infirmity, are unable to support themselves. The churches should establish common treasuries for the purpose of providing alms for cases of this kind. It was so ordained of the apostles in Acts 6, 3. Paul, also, in many places admonishes to such works of love; for instance (Rom 12, 13): "Communicating to the necessities of the saints." 43. Moreover, as Peter says, hospitality is to be extended "without murmuring"--not with reluctance and aversion, as the way of the world is. The world is particularly reluctant when called upon to give to Christ the Lord, in other words to his poor servants the pastors and preachers, or to their children, into whose mouths they must count every bit of bread. It regards oppressive and burdensome the contributing of even a dime for that purpose. At the same time, it lavishly bestows its gifts upon the devil; as, for instance, under popedom it gave liberally and willingly to indolent, useless monks and shameless, wicked knaves, impostors and seducers. Such is the inconsistence of the world; and it is a just punishment from God that it is made unworthy to contribute where it well might toward the preservation of God's Word and his poor Church; and that it must give to other and ungrateful purposes. Christian love must be sincere enough to do good "without murmuring." Paul says (Rom 12, 8) to "let him that showeth mercy do so with cheerfulness," or willingly, without restraint. Again (2 Cor 9, 7), "God loveth a cheerful giver," etc. STEWARDS OF GOD'S GIFTS. 44. Peter speaks also of love's work in relation to the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which are bestowed for the good of the entire Church and particularly for its spiritual offices or government. He would have the Spirit's gifts used in the service of others, and admonishes Christians to consider all they have as given of God. The heathen have no such thought, but live as if life and all they possess were of their own attaining. But let Christians know they are under obligation to serve God with their gifts; and God is served when they employ them for the advantage and service of the people--reforming them, bringing them to a knowledge of God, and thus building up, strengthening and perpetuating the Church. Of such love the world knows nothing at all. 45. So then, Peter says, we are to use the gifts called spiritual--gifts of the Holy Spirit--in the Christian Church "as good stewards of the manifold grace of God." He would have us know they are conferred upon us of grace. They are not given us to exalt ourselves therewith, but to make us stewards of the house of God--of his Church. They are manifold and variously distributed; for no one may possess all. Some may have certain gifts and offices, and other individuals certain others. But the mutual way in which these gifts are united and related makes one individual serve another. 46. Peter would remind especially each individual to take heed to the duties of his particular office. In the pursuance of his own occupation, each is to attend faithfully to whatever is committed to his charge; to do whatever he is commanded to do. As the Scriptures teach in many places, there is no work nobler than being obedient to the particular calling and work assigned of God, and satisfied therein; faithfully serving one's neighbor and not gazing after what is committed to, or enjoined upon, another, nor presuming to transcend the limits of one's own commission. Many fickle, unstable spirits, however, especially the presumptuous, proud and self-sufficient, imagine themselves to have such measure of the Spirit and of skill that their own calling is not sufficient for them; they must control all things, must superintend and criticise the work of others. They are malignant souls, doing nothing but to stir up mischief, and having not the grace to perform any good work, even though they have noble gifts. For they do not make use of the gifts of their office to serve their neighbors; they only minister therewith to their own glory and advantage. 47. The apostle goes on to show how God distributes his gifts in various ways; he speaks of "manifold gifts." Paul likewise (1 Cor 12, 4-5) teaches that each one is given a special gift, and a particular office wherein he is to exercise his gift, continuing in his own sphere until called to another. Again, Paul says (Rom 12, 6-7): "Whether prophecy, let us prophesy ... or ministry, let us give ourselves to our ministry." It is not enough to have numerous special gifts; grace is also requisite--"manifold grace of God," Peter says. We must so use our gifts that God may be pleased to add his blessing, if we would successfully and profitably serve the Church and accomplish good. God's grace will not be given to those who do not, in faith and in obedience to his command, fulfill the obligations of their calling. Now Peter proceeds to illustrate, giving a rule of how we are to use our individual gifts. He says: "If any man speaketh, speaking as it were oracles of God; if any man ministereth, ministering as of the strength which God supplieth." 48. It is highly essential that the Church observe this doctrine. Had it been regarded heretofore, the world would not have been filled with anti-christian errors and deceptions. For it fixes the bounds, it sets the mark, for all aspiring church members, however exalted their office and gifts; the limits of these they must not transcend. 49. The apostle classifies Church government in two divisions: teaching, or "ministering" the Word; and holding office and fulfilling its duties in accordance with the teachings of the Word. In both cases, he tells us, we are to take heed that we are not actuated by our own ideas and pleasures; our teaching and ruling must ever be God's Word and work or office. 50. The workings of the Christian Church are not the same as the processes of civil government. They are unlike the operations that have to do with outward things, with temporal possessions. In the latter case men are guided by their own understanding. At the dictates of their own reason do they rule, instituting laws and regulations, and prohibiting, receiving and distributing according to those regulations. In the Christian Church we have a spiritual government of the conscience, an effecting of obedience in God's sight. Whatever is spoken or taught, promised or done, we may be assured, will avail and stand before God; indeed, we may know it has origin with him, whereby we are justified in declaring: "God himself uttered the command or performed the work; for in us, his tabernacles where he lives and rules, essentially he, as rightful Master in the house, commands and performs all, though employing the instrumentality of men's lips and hands." ASSURANCE OF PURE DOCTRINE ESSENTIAL. 51. In the first place, therefore, it is necessary that both preachers and hearers take heed to doctrine and have clear, unmistakable evidence that what they embrace is really the true Word of God revealed from heaven; the doctrine given to the holy and primitive fathers, prophets and apostles; the doctrine Christ himself confirmed and commanded to be taught. We are not permitted to employ the teaching dictated by any man's pleasure or fancy. We may not adapt the Word to mere human knowledge and reason. We are not to trifle with the Scriptures, to juggle with the Word of God, as if it would admit of being explained to suit the people; of being twisted, distended and patched to effect peace and agreement among men. Otherwise, there would be no sure, permanent foundation whereon the conscience might rely. 52. Nor is it any more admissible for one who chances to have an office of greater influence than others, who is peculiarly holy, or who is of exalted spirit and intellect--even though he were an apostle--to presume upon his gifts and the office and take authority to teach according to his own inclinations, requiring his hearers to accept unquestioningly his word and rely upon it because what he teaches must be right. But thus the Pope in time past persuaded the world that because he occupied the seat of the apostles, the highest office, and assembled the councils, the latter could not err, and that therefore all men are obliged to believe and obey what they resolve and confirm. 53. This theory is opposed by Peter's teaching, and all the Scriptures forbid men, at the peril of losing eternal salvation, to rely on or respect anyone or anyone's gifts, in the things pertaining to faith. The Scriptures teach rather that we are to prove and judge all doctrine by the clear and sure Word of God given us from heaven and supported by the reliable, concurrent testimony of the apostles and the Church from the beginning. Paul, by way of denouncing the false teachers who boasted of being disciples of eminent apostles and relied upon the latter and their reputation, pronounced this sentence (Gal 1, 8): "Though we, or an angel from heaven, should preach unto you any gospel other than that which we preached unto you, let him be anathema." 54. Similarly, in the offices or government of the Church, there must first be convincing evidence that command and office are instituted of God. No one may be permitted to institute, promise or do anything of his own power or pleasure and compel men to regard it as divine authority or as essential to salvation, simply because of his appointment to office. Nevertheless, the Pope, by virtue of his ecclesiastical office, undertook to domineer over all men, to issue commands and institute laws and religious services binding upon everyone. He who holds and would exercise office in the Church must first give clear Scripture proof of having derived his office from the authority of God. He must be able to say: "I did not institute such and such a proceeding; it is of God." Then they who comply may be assured they are obeying, not the individual, but God. 55. For instance, if in obedience to Christ's command I, as a carer of souls, or servant of the Church, administer the holy sacrament or pronounce absolution; if I admonish, comfort, reprove; I can say: "That which I do, I do not; Christ performs it." For I act not of my own design, but in obedience to the command of Christ--to his injunction. The Pope and his adherents cannot make the above assertion. For they pervert the order and commandment of Christ the Lord when, in the sacrament, they withhold the cup from the laity, and when they change the use of the sacrament or mass, making it a sacrifice for the living and the dead. And thus they do also by innumerable other abominations in their false worship, things established without God's command, indeed contrary thereto; for instance, the invocation of dead saints, and similar idolatries, introduced by the Pope under cover of his office, as if he had the power from Christ to institute and command such things. ASSURANCE OF DIVINE EFFICIENCY ESSENTIAL. 56. In the second place, it is not enough that office and commandment be God-appointed. We his ministers should be conscious--and the people should so be taught--that efficacy of office is not of human effort, but is God's power and work. In other words, that which the office was designed to accomplish is not effective by virtue of our speech or action, but by virtue of God's commandment and appointment. He it is who orders; and himself will effectively operate through that office which is obedient to God's command. For instance, in baptism, the Lord's Supper and absolution, we are not to be concerned about the person administering the sacraments or pronouncing absolution--who he is, how righteous, how holy, how worthy. Worthiness or unworthiness of either administering or receiving hand effects nothing; all the virtue lies in God's command and ordinance. 57. This is the explanation of Peter's phrase, "the strength or ability which God supplieth." Effect is produced, not through man's power, not in obedience to man's will; but through the "strength" of God and because of his ordering. No man has a right presumptuously to boast his own power and ability effective, as the Pope does in his pretensions about keys and ecclesiastical power. Know that it is necessary to the efficacy of your office and the salutary character of your work or authority in the Church that God himself give and exert the influence. And that influence is exerted when, as before said, God's Word and testimony are present that the ministry in question is commanded, or authorized, of God. 58. Therefore it is earnestly enjoined that in the Church no attempt should be made by any individual to institute any order or perform any work, much or little, great or small, merely at the prompting of his own inclinations or in obedience to the advice of any man. Let him who would teach and work be sure that his words and acts are really of God--commanded by him. Until he is certain in this respect, let him abandon his office--suspend his ministry; let him engage in something else for a time. Nor should we hear or believe anything presented to us that does not bear indisputable evidence of being the divine Word, or command. For God will not permit mockery of himself in the things of his own prerogative and on which depends the salvation of souls; for souls will be led to eternal ruin where this rule and command are disregarded. "That in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ." 59. Here is named the motive for all effort in the Christian community. No one may seek for nor ascribe to himself power and honor because of his office and gifts. Power and glory belong only to God. He himself calls his Church, and rules, sanctifies and preserves it through his Word and his Spirit. To this end he bestows upon us his gifts. And all is done purely of grace, wholly for the sake of his beloved Son, Christ the Lord. Therefore, in return for the favor and ineffable goodness bestowed upon us regardless of our merits, we ought to thank and praise God, directing all our efforts to the recognition and glory of his name. _Pentecost_ Text: Acts 2, 1-13. 1 And when the day of Pentecost was now come, they were all together in one place. 2 And suddenly there came from heaven a sound as of the rushing of a mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. 3 And there appeared unto them tongues parting asunder, like as of fire; and it sat upon each one of them. 4 And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. 5 Now there were dwelling at Jerusalem Jews, devout men, from every nation under heaven. 6 And when this sound was heard, the multitude came together, and were confounded, because that every man heard them speaking in his own language. 7 And they were all amazed and marvelled, saying, Behold, are not all these that speak Galilæans? 8 And how hear we, every man in our own language wherein we were born? 9 Parthians and Medes and Elamites, and the dwellers in Mesopotamia, in Judæa and Capadocia, in Pontus and Asia, 10 in Phrygia and Pamphylia, in Egypt and the parts of Libya about Cyrene, and sojourners from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11 Cretans and Arabians, we hear them speaking in our tongues the mighty works of God. 12 And they were all amazed, and were perplexed, saying one to another. What meaneth this? 13 But others mocking said, They are filled with new wine. THE GIFT OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 1. The historical facts of this day, as well as the beautiful sermon the Holy Spirit delivered through the apostle Peter, which might appropriately be fully treated at this time, we shall leave for the special sermons on the various festivals of the year. For the present we will but briefly speak of the occasion of this festival, and of the office of the Holy Spirit. 2. The festival we call "Pentecost" had origin as follows: When God was about to lead the children of Israel out of Egypt, he permitted them to celebrate the Feast of the Passover on the night of their departure; and commanded them on every annual recurrence of the season to observe the same feast in commemoration of their liberation from bondage and their departure from Egypt. Fifty days later, in their journey through the wilderness, they arrived at Mount Sinai. There God gave them the Law, through Moses; and there they were commanded to observe annually, in commemoration of that giving of the Law, the fiftieth day after the Feast of the Passover. Hence the name "Feast of Pentecost," the word "Pentecost" coming from the Greek "Pentecoste," or "fiftieth day." Our Saxons, rather more in conformity to the Greek, use the word "Pfingsten." So we have it here of Luke: "When the day of Pentecost was now come," or "fully come"--when the Jews had properly commemorated the giving of the Law of God on Mount Sinai--the Holy Spirit came, in accordance with Christ's promise, and gave them a new law. We now celebrate this feast, not because of the old historical event, but because of the new one--the sending of the Holy Spirit. It is in order, then, to give a little instruction concerning the difference between our Pentecost and that of the Jews. LITERAL LAW AND SPIRITUAL LAW. 3. The occasion of the Jews' observance was the giving of the literal law; but it is ours to celebrate the giving of the spiritual law. To present the point more clearly, we cite Paul's distinction of the two covenants. 2 Cor 3, 6. And these two covenants respectively relate to two kinds of people. 4. First, there is the written law commanded of God and composed of written words. It is styled "written" or "literal" because it goes no farther and does not enter the heart, nor are there any resulting works other than hypocritical and extorted ones. Consisting only of letters--a written law--it is wholly dead. Its province being to kill, it ruled a dead people. With dead hearts men could not sincerely observe the commandments of God. Were every individual left to do as he pleased, being uninfluenced by fear, not one would be found choosing to be controlled by the Law. Unquestionably, human nature is conscious of the fact that while it prefers to follow its own inclinations it is impelled to do otherwise; for it reasons: "If I observe not God's commandments, he will punish me, casting me into hell." Thus our nature is conscious of obeying unwillingly and contrary to desire. Because of the punishment men fear, they soon become enemies to God; they feel themselves sinners, unable to stand before God, and consequently not acceptable to him. Indeed, they would rather there were no God. Such enmity to God remains persistently in the heart, however beautifully nature may adorn itself outwardly. We see, therefore, how the Law, so long as it consists merely of written words, can make no one righteous, can enter no heart. Upon this topic we have elsewhere preached and written at length. 5. The other law is spiritual; not written with ink and pen, nor uttered by lips as Moses read from the tables of stone. We learn from the historical record of the event that the Holy Spirit descended from heaven and filled all the assembled multitude, and they appeared with parting, fiery tongues and preached so unlike they were wont to do that all men were filled with amazement. The Spirit came pouring into their hearts, making them different beings, making them creatures who loved and willingly obeyed God. This change was simply the manifestation of the Spirit himself, his work in the heart. He wrote in those hearts his pure and fiery flame restoring them to life and causing them to respond with fiery tongues and efficient hands. They became new creatures, aware of possessing altogether different minds and different tendencies. Then all was life and light; understanding, will and heart burned and delighted in whatever was acceptable to God. Such is the true distinction between the written law of God and the spiritual. Herein we perceive what is the work of the Holy Spirit. THE OFFICE OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 6. From this we should learn what is the office of the Holy Spirit in the Church, and how or by what means he is received in the heart and works there. In time past it was preached that he merely endorses what the councils conclude and the Pope establishes in the Spiritless papal Church. The fact is, however, the doings of Pope and councils are mere outward matters; they relate to external commands and government. The above theory is, therefore, wholly inconsistent and perverse. Of the work of the Holy Spirit, the Papists make a dead, written law, when it is really a living, spiritual law. Thus they render the Holy Spirit a Moses, and his words mere human prattle. It is all due to ignorance of the character of the Holy Spirit, of the purpose of his coming and the nature of his office. Therefore, let us learn and firmly grasp those things and be able rightly to distinguish the Spirit's office. 7. Observe here, the Holy Spirit descends and fills the hearts of the disciples sitting in fear and sorrow. He renders their tongues fiery and cloven, and inflames them with love unto boldness in preaching Christ--unto free and fearless utterance. Plainly, then, it is not the office of the Spirit to write books or to institute laws. He writes in the hearts of men, creating a new heart, so that man may rejoice before God, filled with love for him and ready, in consequence, to serve his fellows gladly. 8. What are the means and process the Spirit employs to change and renew the heart? It is through preaching Jesus Christ the Lord, as Christ himself says (Jn 15, 26): "When the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you from the Father, even the Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the Father, he shall bear witness of me." As we have often heard, the Gospel is the message God would have preached world-wide, declaring to every individual that since no man can through the Law be made righteous, but must rather become more unrighteous, God sent his own beloved Son to shed his blood and die for our sins, from which sins we could not be released by our own effort. 9. It is not enough simply that Christ be preached; the Word must be believed. Therefore, God sends the Holy Spirit to impress the preaching upon the heart--to make it inhere and live therein. Unquestionably, Christ accomplished all--took away our sins and overcame every obstacle, enabling us to become, through him, lords over all things. But the treasure lies in a heap; it is not everywhere distributed and applied. Before we can enjoy it, the Holy Spirit come and communicate it to the heart, enabling us to believe and say, "I too, am one who shall have the blessing." To everyone who hears is grace offered through the Gospel; to grace is he called, as Christ says (Mt 11, 28), "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden," etc. 10. Now, with the belief that God has come to our rescue and given us this priceless blessing, inevitably the human heart must be filled with joy and with gratitude to God, and must exultingly cry: "Dear Father, since it is thy will to manifest toward me inexpressible love and fidelity, I will love thee sincerely, and willingly do what is pleasing to thee." The believing heart never sees God with jealous eye. It does not fear being cast into hell as it did before the Holy Spirit came, when it was conscious of no love, no goodness, no faithfulness, on God's part, but only wrath and displeasure. But once let the Holy Spirit impress the heart with the fact of God's good will and graciousness towards it, and the resulting joy and confidence will impel it to do and suffer for God's sake whatever necessity demands. 11. Let us, then, learn to recognize the Holy Spirit--to know that his mission is to present to us the priceless Christ and all his blessings; to reveal them to us through the Gospel and apply them to the heart, making them ours. When our hearts are sensible of this work of the Spirit, naturally we are compelled to say: "If our works avail naught, and the Holy Spirit alone must accomplish our salvation, then why burden ourselves with works and laws?" By the doctrine of the Spirit, all human works and laws are excluded, even the laws of Moses. The Holy Spirit's instruction is superior to that of all books. The Spirit-taught individual understands the Scriptures better than does he who is occupied solely with the Law. 12. Hence, our only use for books is to strengthen our faith and to show others written testimony to the Spirit's teaching. For we may not keep our faith to ourselves, but must let it shine out; and to establish it the Scriptures are necessary. Be careful, therefore, not to regard the Holy Spirit as a Law-maker, but as proclaiming to your heart the Gospel of Christ and setting you so free from the literal law that not a letter of it remains, except as a medium for preaching the Gospel. BELIEVERS MUST YET RESIST SIN. 13. Here we should be intelligent and know that in one sense all is not accomplished when the Holy Spirit is received. The possessor of the Spirit is not at once entirely perfect, pure in all respects, no more sensible of the Law and of sin. We do not preach the doctrine that the Spirit's office is one of complete accomplishment, but rather that it is progressive; he operates continuously and increasingly. Hence, there is not to be found an individual perfect in righteousness and happiness, devoid of sin and sorrow, ever serving all men with pleasure. The Scriptures make plain the Holy Spirit's office--to liberate from sin and terror. But the work is not then complete. The Christian must, in some measure, still feel sin in his heart and experience the terrors of death; he is affected by whatever disturbs other sinners. While unbelievers are so deep in their sins as to be indifferent, believers are keenly conscious of theirs; but Christians are supported by the Holy Spirit, who consoles and strengthens till his work is fully accomplished. It is terminated when they no longer feel their sins. 14. So I say we must be prudent; we must take heed we do not arrogantly and presumptuously boast possession of the Holy Spirit, as do certain proud fanatics. The danger is in becoming too secure, in imagining ourselves perfect in all respects. The pious Christian is still flesh and blood like other men; he but strives to resist evil lusts and other sins, and is unwillingly sensible of evil desires. But he who is not a Christian is carelessly secure, wholly unconcerned about his sins. 15. It is of no significance that we feel evil lusts, provided we endeavor to resist them. One must not go by his feelings and consider himself lost if he have sinful desires. At the same time he must, so long as life lasts, contend with the sins he perceives in himself. He must unceasingly groan to be relieved of them, and must permit the Holy Spirit to operate in him. There is in believers continual groaning after holiness--groaning too deep for expression, as Paul says in Romans 8, 26. But Christians have a blessed listener--the Holy Spirit himself. He readily perceives sincere longing after purity, and sends the conscience divine comfort. There will ever be in us mingled purity and imperfection; we must be conscious both of the Holy Spirit's presence and of our own sins--our imperfections. We are like the sick man in the hands of the physician who is to restore him to health. Let no one think: "Here is a man who possesses the Holy Spirit; consequently he must be perfectly strong, having no imperfections and performing only worthy works." No, think not so; for so long as we live in the flesh here on earth, we cannot attain such a degree of perfection as to be wholly free from weakness and faults. The holy apostles themselves often lamented their temptations and sorrows. Their feelings concealed from them the Holy Spirit's presence, though they were aware of his strengthening and sustaining power in their temptations, a power conveyed through the Word and through faith. 16. The Holy Spirit is given only to the anxious and distressed heart. Only therein can the Gospel profit us and produce fruit. The gift is too sublime and noble for God to cast it before dogs and swine, who, when by chance they hear the preached message, devour it without knowing to what they do violence. The heart must recognize and feel its wretchedness and its inability to extricate itself. Before the Holy Spirit can come to the rescue, there must be a struggle in the heart. Let no one imagine he will receive the Spirit in any other way. 17. We see this truth illustrated in the narrative here. The beloved disciples were filled with fear and terror. They were disconsolate and discouraged, and sunk in unbelief and despair. Only with great difficulty and effort did Christ raise them again. Yet their only failing was their faintheartedness; they feared the heavens would fall upon them. Even the Lord himself could scarce comfort them until he said: "The Holy Spirit shall descend upon you from heaven, impressing myself upon your hearts until you shall know me and, through me, the Father. Then will your hearts be comforted, strengthened and filled with joy." And so was the promise fulfilled to them on this day of Pentecost. Luther's Church Postil contains no sermons on the epistle selections for Whit-Monday and Whit-Tuesday. _Pentecost Monday_ Text: Acts 2, 14-28. Only the text, without a sermon, is printed in the edition of 1559 of Luther's works. This and the following epistle text are too long to consider here, as they contain so many beautiful quotations from the Old Testament, which should not be passed over too briefly. Hence their discussion is reserved for their proper place. _Pentecost Tuesday_ Text: Acts 2, 29-36. 
7786	----	THE ONE GREAT REALITY By LOUISA CLAYTON Author of "Heart Lessons", "Loving Messages", "Winning and Warning", "Wilderness Lessons", etc. "I AM GOD, AND THERE IS NONE ELSE"-- Isa. xiv. 22. THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED to all my friends in Rusthall, in loving remembrance of our happy fellowship in the gospel during the past thirty years, with the earnest prayer that the messages may be stored up in their hearts and bring forth fruit in their lives when the voice which delivered them is still. 3, Somerville Gardens, Tunbridge Wells. FOREWORD In response to the request of an old and esteemed friend I gladly add a Foreword to the collection of Addresses embodied in this volume. I do so in recognition of the supreme importance of the great topics that have been chosen, and also in appreciation of the clear and attractive way in which the truth is set forth. May the messages find attentive and receptive readers, and be followed by deep and abiding spiritual blessing. EVAN H. HOPKINS. Woburn Chase, Addlestone, Surrey. CONTENTS I GOD, THE GREAT REALITY II GOD, OUR FATHER III THE SON OF GOD IV THE SPIRIT OF GOD V THE VOICE OF GOD VI THE HANDS OF GOD VII THE WORD OF GOD VIII HAVE FAITH IN GOD IX THE CHURCH OF GOD X THE KINGDOM OF GOD INDEX OF CONTENTS ADDRESS I GOD, THE GREAT REALITY Personal knowledge of God, the secret of happiness--Realising His Presence in prayer--Illustrations from the telephone and family life--God is our Father, Saviour, Comforter--The Living God-knowing all, and controlling everything--Illustrations from current events. ADDRESS II GOD, OUR FATHER A Chinese convert--Christ's confidence in the Father--Christ reveals the Father--Philip's prayer, "Show us the Father"--What God is to us as Father--How the minister sang the Doxology in an empty flour barrel--The glorious calling of the children of God. ADDRESS III THE SON OF GOD Christ is the Son of God from Eternity--He is sent to be the Saviour of the world--Three questions answered: Where did He come from? When did He come? Why did He come?--A working-man's experience--The story of the pearl necklace--Christ's work of redemption--Sir James Simpson's dying testimony--Hymn, "He came and took me by the hand." ADDRESS IV THE SPIRIT OF GOD God is a Spirit--True spiritual worship--The Spirit of God in Creation and Salvation--The New Birth--The work of the Holy Spirit convincing of sin, and revealing Christ--Searchlights--The loveliness of Christ--The Holy Ghost like a Mother--The Comforter. ADDRESS V THE VOICE OF GOD Jacob's ladder, a type of Christ--Jacob brought face to face with God--What it is to hear the Voice of God--God's first call to man in the Garden of Eden--A perfect link of communication between God and man--The Voice of God speaking in His Word. ADDRESS VI THE HANDS OF GOD Why St. John wrote his Gospel--The safety of the believer--God's hands in Creation, Providence and Redemption--The "Scarred Hands"--The story of a brave shepherd lad--The Hands of Jesus wounded for our transgressions--The Three Crosses. ADDRESS VII THE WORD OF GOD The Glory of God seen in Nature--The Glory of God revealed in the Bible--The dying woman and her rich inheritance--God's Word brings wisdom, conversion, joy and light to the heart of man--Spurgeon's text in the Crystal Palace--A Chinese convert "behaving the Bible"--The Torch that will light you home--A neglected Bible. ADDRESS VIII HAVE FAITH IN GOD Abraham the Friend of God--The greatness of his faith--Faith the gate into Life--Faith the link between the sinner and the Saviour--A missionary's faith rewarded--Illustrations from the telegraph and electricity--The wonders wrought by the touch of faith--Great faith brings Heaven into our souls--The difference between believing and committing. ADDRESS IX THE CHURCH OF GOD The Church of God: Past, Present, Future--Its Beginning and Growth--The Church the Body of Christ, a Living Union--The Church the Bride of Christ, a Loving Relationship--The Glory of this Union--Three Great Surprises--The Old Man's Message; Love, Eternal Love--The Four Precious Words--"Labelled and Ready"--The Glorious Future of the Church of God--The Church will show forth God's Grace and Glory in the Ages to come. ADDRESS X THE KINGDOM OF GOD "Bringing the King back"--One King, Jesus, His entrance into Jerusalem--The Jews rejecting their King--His Kingdom in our hearts--Make Jesus King--The Cross the Way to the Throne--The dying thief received into the Kingdom--The King's Victory over the Powers of Darkness--The Coming King--The Glory of the Lord revealed--Christ's Reign on Earth--Rutherford's testimony--Miss Havergal's Prayer--The Eternal Kingdom. ADDRESS I GOD, THE GREAT REALITY PORTION OF SCRIPTURE--Hebrews xi. 1-6. God is the one great Reality. Will you close your eyes for a moment and say those words over again very slowly so as to let them burn into your inmost heart and soul. The Word of God tells us that "The Son of God is come and hath given us an understanding that we may know Him that is true": this means that we may personally know Him that is Reality. In the wonder of that moment when we first know that God is real and that God is near, then we cry out, "My God, how wonderful Thou art." To have personal knowledge of God is the secret of assurance and happiness, and to put real trust in Him changes our whole life, for then we can say, "I have a wonderful God." To know God is Eternal life; to know Him fully, brings "life more abundantly"; to know Him with no veil between, is glory--life. If you look again at the 6th verse of the 11th chapter of Hebrews you will notice a very clear statement: it says, "He that cometh to God must believe that He is," or to put it in other words, "the man who draws near to God must believe that there is a God." Do you believe in God? Is He real to you? Here is one test. When you pray do you realise His Presence? Is He so close to you that it is like speaking into His ear? It was this text, "He that cometh to God must believe that He is," which first awakened a worldly gentleman named Brownlow North to think about his soul. God's Spirit showed him that he had never really believed in God and that all his former religion was worthless, "for without faith it is impossible to please God." As soon as he had really learnt to know God, he devoted all his life to preaching the Gospel. He told every one that the first thing we need is _to believe there is a God_. Many of his friends who were rich and well educated were thus brought to a personal knowledge of God for the first time. He that cometh to God must believe that He is really there. Have you ever been conscious of the Presence of the living God? You must make sure that He is near before you can really pray. We have an illustration of this in the telephone. You first put the speaking tube to your mouth and then you say "Are you there?" In any case you make sure that the person to whom you wish to speak, is listening at the other end. Although you cannot see any one, you know he is holding the receiver so as to hear what you say. When you begin to pray always pause for a moment and remember that you are speaking to God. Do not say a word until the Holy Spirit puts you into direct communication with God. The Psalmist was quite sure that God was really listening to his prayer, for he says, "I love the Lord because He hath heard my voice and my supplications. Because He hath inclined His ear unto me therefore will I call upon Him as long as I live." [Footnote: Ps. cxvi. 1, 2.] And again, "I cried unto God with my voice, even unto God with my voice, and He gave ear unto me." [Footnote: Ps. lxxvii. 1.] It is in this way we realise that there is a God, a personal living God. I asked a Christian man one day if he had prayed about some work which was offered to him, and his reply was, "Yes: I am on the telephone." Can you say the same? As soon as you have spoken through the telephone you put the receiver to your ear to listen for the answer. Many people pray without expecting to get an answer. They are like children who knock at a door and then run away before it is opened. The prophet Micah says, "I will wait for God, my God will answer me." [Footnote: Mic. vii. 7.] Yes, he expected to get an answer. The Lord Jesus says, "When thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut the door, pray to thy Father which is in secret." [Footnote: St. Matt. vi. 6.] When a child wants to tell his father something very private he whispers it in his ear. I daresay you have noticed that the telephone at the General Post Office is enclosed in a box, so that no one can overhear what is said. There are many things we say into God's ear which we could not tell to any one else. It makes Him very real to us, if we can say in our inmost hearts, "O God, Thou art my God, my very own Father." When we speak through the telephone we never say useless words, and our Lord tells us to avoid needless repetitions when we pray, and He adds, "for your Father knows what things you need before ever you ask Him." Just as an earthly father delights to hear his children's, voices, so our heavenly Father loves to hear us speaking to Him, for He says, "Put Me in remembrance, let us plead together." [Footnote: Isa. xliii. 26.] A child's intercourse with his father is quite simple and natural, he talks freely about everything. When you speak to God, is it an effort, or do you look up into His face with confidence and tell Him all? A child expects his father to supply all his wants and to be equal to every emergency, but we seem to have lost sight of the Father in heaven who is pledged to "supply all our need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus." [Footnote: Phil. iv. 13.] We must not be disappointed if we do not get all we want, because God's promise is to supply what we _need_. We often wish for things which we do not really need. If ever you lose sight of _God_, think of the wonderful lesson which Jesus teaches when He says, "If ye then being evil know how to give good gifts unto your children," and you, fathers, always get the best you can for them, "how much more" (wonderful words), "how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him." [Footnote: St. Matt. vii. 11.] Have you ever heard God's voice saying to you, I am your Father; love Me, look to Me, trust Me, worship Me: "Open thy mouth wide and I will fill it." [Footnote: Ps. lxxxi. 10.] A godly man who was a servant used to say, "There is not in the world a kind of life more sweet and delightful than that of a continual conversation with God." He felt that God was nearer and dearer to him than any one else. This is what makes God real to us when we feel that He is _near and dear_. "Only to sit and think of God, Oh! what a joy it is!" It is just the same with your children if you are a really good, loving father, they are quite happy if they can sit close to you. Your very presence makes a great impression on them, even if you do not say a word. Is God's presence so real to you that it makes you control your temper and keeps you from saying unkind things? A boy may be troublesome sometimes, but he never really doubts his father's love for him. Do you ever doubt God's love? Oh, yes: you say, I often murmur. Then this shows that in a sense you have never really known God. People would not speak as they do about God, I mean even Christians would not talk as they do if they really knew God. We often hear people say, "I hope God will be good to us," or, "I think it very hard God does not answer my prayer." This shows they have never personally known Him. Their thoughts about God are so contrary to what they sing. For example, how much do we really mean of that sweet hymn-- "Precious thought--my Father knoweth, In His love I rest; For whate'er my Father doeth. Must be always best. Well I know the heart that planneth Nought but good for me; Joy and sorrow interwoven, Love in all I see." Do you ever doubt His wisdom and think you might have been treated better? When we really know our Father-God, then we see His wisdom even in the things that are against us. We know and we feel that they have all been working together for our good, "for He knows all." This Book in my hand is The Word of God. It is a revelation of God, and the glory of God Himself shines in every page. The first word in it is, In the beginning _God_. Perhaps you ask me, "Who is God?" I will tell you. "He is my Father." But you say, I am so sinful, I am not worthy to be called His son. That is just what I felt, so sinful, and then He revealed Himself to me as my Saviour. Ah! you say, but I am so far off, how can I find my way to Him? And that was just like me till the Holy Spirit led me to Him. When God reveals Himself to you as Father, Saviour, Comforter, then you will know that _God_ Himself is dwelling in your heart. Perhaps you ask, Will God really come and dwell in me for I am so unworthy? God Himself answers that question; "Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones." [Footnote: Isa. lvii. 15.] Every one is standing now in view of God and Eternity. A very long time ago the question was asked, "Canst thou by searching find out God?" [Footnote: Job xi. 7.] The only way we can find Him is by our spiritual necessities. If your soul needs life, you will find Him. If your spirit needs reviving, you will find Him. As this text says, I come "to revive the heart of the contrite ones." When your children talk about their Father, he is a real Person to them; that is what God wants to be to us, a real personal God. He says, "I will be to them a God." [Footnote: Heb. viii. 10.] I know a little boy who whispered to his aunt one night when she was giving him the goodnight kiss, "Oh, Auntie, I sometimes wonder whether there is a God. Are you quite sure?" "Yes," said the aunt very earnestly, "I am quite sure. You see, I have known Him so long and He is so much to me, I am quite sure." The child was satisfied. If you will turn again to Psalm cxvi. you will see a wonderful unfolding of the secret feelings of David's heart, and as we read it we cannot help saying to ourselves, the man who wrote this experience had very close dealings with some One about his soul. Who is this Some One? Do you know? Perhaps you think your religion is good enough to take you to heaven when you die, but alas! it begins and ends with the "Unknown God." How different to David's experience when he says out of a full heart, "I love the Lord," or as the word means, "I am full of love," and then he tells of his confidence in God; "I believed, therefore I have spoken," as if he had said, "God is so real to me now, I must tell others"; and he adds, "I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living." We can walk with God in our daily life just as Enoch did. A good man said a short time ago, If ever I pass any one in the street with a careworn, anxious face, I long to say to them, "There is _God_," "Have faith in God." St. John said, "We have known and believed the love that God hath to us and in us--God is love." [Footnote: 1 John iv. 16.] This is the central fact, the one great reality in life, and when once it is grasped there is nothing to compare with it. Why is there so much unrest, so much ungodliness, and lawlessness in our midst? We are forgetting God. The only remedy is coming back to God. A poor woman who has been a Christian for many years was telling me about her mother's sudden death the week before, and then she added, "I have never known God as I do now. The future used to look so dark, but now that I know Him as the Living God, I can only see _life_. I cannot tell you what He is to me." Her face, which bore traces of her recent sorrow, shone with a new peace and a new joy, which made me rejoice. I was sure that God had revealed Himself to her in her time of need. Those precious words had come true in her case, "In that hour Jesus rejoiced in spirit and said, I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent and hast revealed them unto babes; even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight." [Footnote: St. Luke x. 21.] Are you saying, "My soul thirsteth for God, for the Living God"? Then you will have a Personal revelation of God Himself, for that is the only way the life of God can enter into your soul and mine. Are you longing to find God? It is not that we find Him, but that He finds us, making Himself to us the great Reality. We may know wonderful things _about_ Him, but that is not enough. We must really know Him in our hearts! The very longing which you have for this personal revelation of God comes from the loving Father Himself, and He says, "I will give them a heart to know Me": [Footnote: Jer. xxiv. 7.] so we need never think, ah! it is beyond me, for He promises to _give_ us the heart to know Him. I had a striking instance of this some years ago. A working man who could not read or write told me that he had been converted at our meeting. He died in the Union Infirmary, and I heard afterwards that he had been a blessing to many in the ward. He said to me one day, "I want to tell you _what God is to me_." In very simple words he described how he could see it all plainly. How in the beginning, sin came into the Garden of Eden and then God revealed Himself to the sinner so as to bring him back to Himself. Again and again his simple testimony was, I must tell every one _what God is to me_. This man had learnt to know God personally through his own need as a sinner, so it is not by earthly education that we find God, but through the Holy Spirit's teaching, and then in the Word He reveals Himself more fully. It is "through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord that grace and peace are multiplied to us," [Footnote: 2 Pet. i. 2.] so if we have not more and more grace and peace coming into our souls it is because we do not really know God. It makes all the difference in our life when we can say, God is now my living Father; for it means God in His infinite love has taken my life into His, and by this personal link of love I take His life into mine. When He assures us that He is the Living God, it means that He lives and cares for us. All things, great and small, are under His control. We have an illustration of this in the present war. Think of our Navy, scattered over seven oceans, yet all under the control of the Commander-in-Chief, Sir John Jellicoe. Not one vessel can move without his orders, no ship can be attacked without his knowledge; the wireless apparatus is at work night and day communicating every detail. It brings Sir John word of any submarine sighted, or of any movement in all the seas round our country, and it carries his orders far and near. When God tells us that He is the living God, we know that He cares for us in the same way as a mother cares for her children. We had a touching illustration of this about a year ago. Do you remember how we were thrilled with horror when the Archduke Francis Ferdinand, heir to the throne of Austria, was shot while driving through the city? He expired in a few minutes, leaving three children. In those few moments he turned to his wife who was seated by his side and said these pathetic words, "Sophie, live for our children." He did not know that she too had been mortally wounded and would be powerless to care for their orphan children. It is because our Father-God is the living God, that He can say to us to-day just as He said to the Old Testament saints, "I am living for you, caring for you, protecting you." "Even to your old age I am He; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made and I will bear, even I will carry and will deliver you." [Footnote: Isa. xlvi. 4.] When He says to you, "I am God and there is none else," [Footnote 2: Isa. xlv. 22.] does your heart answer, Yes: "Even from everlasting to everlasting Thou art God." [Footnote 3: Ps. xc. 2.] ADDRESS II GOD OUR FATHER PORTION OF SCRIPTURE--Matthew vii 24-34. In the chapter we have just read there is a great deal about our daily home life, and the word "Father" is mentioned twelve times, so it shows that God knows all about the everyday work. It is a grand thing when we find this out. A poor woman in China was converted, and very soon the lady missionary who visited her noticed that now her house was very clean and tidy, and told her how glad she was to see it. The woman smiled, and said in her own simple way, "You see my Father God and the Lord Jesus are constantly coming in and out, so I like to keep it nice." She realised the Presence of God. "The eyes of the Lord are in every place." [Footnote: Prov. xv. 3.] If we do not find God _everywhere_ we practically end by finding Him _nowhere_. A busy Christian mother told me that she begins each day and lives all the day long saying in her heart, "In Thy Presence and by Thy Power." We must not only _say_ it, but act upon it as a _reality_, and then it will be our daily experience to be in touch with God. There was one word which was very precious to Christ and which was often on His lips, and that was "Father." You remember how He stood one day at the grave of His friend Lazarus. All the mourners were standing round Him. Lazarus had been dead four days. It seemed utterly impossible that he could be restored to life again. No one expected it. What did Jesus do? "Jesus lifted up His eyes and said '_Father_.'" [Footnote: St. John xi. 41.] Those eyes were still wet with tears, for a few verses before we read "Jesus wept." Then He lifted up His eyes and said "_Father_": that was enough. There is _everything_ in that word. It just meant, "I have told Father all about it." He knows, He loves, He cares, and all things are possible with Him. There is no limit to His power and His love. Then the command was given to those standing near--"Take ye away the stone." Was Christ going into the cave? No, the dead man was to _come out_. So we have first the wondrous name "Father," and then the loud cry, "Lazarus, come forth," and he that was dead came out of the cold grave', out of the region of death into the land of the living. All through His life on earth our Lord always speaks to God as Father. One verse especially brings out the perfect intimacy, the perfect confidence, the perfect love between the Lord Jesus and the Father. Jesus says, "All things are delivered unto Me of My Father, and no man knoweth the Son but the Father; neither knoweth any man the Father save the Son and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal Him." [Footnote: St. Matt. xi 27.] The last words of this verse are very precious, for they show that not only has the Son perfect knowledge of the Father, but He reveals or makes known the Father so that you and I may know Him as our Father. You remember Philip prayed, "Lord, show us the Father, that is what we want," [Footnote: St. John xiv. 8.] and Christ answered, "He who has seen Me has seen the Father." Yes, "He is the image of the invisible God." God said to Moses, "Thou canst not see My Face and live for there shall no man see me and live," [Footnote: Exod. xxxiii. 20.] and for hundreds of years no one saw God. Then came the wondrous gift and the wondrous revelation. God gave His only Begotten Son, and _in Him_ we see the Father. Praise the Lord! the glorious light has come to us in our darkness. For "God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God _in the face of Jesus Christ._" [Footnote: Cor. iv. 6.] The Apostle John says, "We beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth." "No man hath seen God at any time," [Footnote: St. John i. 18.] and before Christ came the verse stopped there; but after He came, then God was fully revealed; so the verse finishes with the words "the only begotten Son which is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him." Will you look up now, and say, "Lord, show _me_ the Father," and He will reveal Him to you, because this is what He promises to do. Look at the last line of the 27th verse of Matthew xi. where Christ says, "He to whomsoever the Son will reveal Him," and without a pause He adds the wonderful invitation, "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." It is to the weary and heavy laden that He reveals the Father. He invites them to share the fellowship He has with the Father, the peace and joy and rest of knowing the Father. Why does He invite the weary ones to come to Him? because He felt in Himself such joy in this close fellowship with God, He wanted every one to have it too. He felt that His experience of what the Father was to Him was so rich, He longed for them to come and share it, "I will give you rest." It is as if He said, "I will give you the same rest I have when I am tired and hungry and thirsty; the same comfort that I have when I am misunderstood and reviled; the rest, the comfort, the peace I have in My Father." We have the same assurance when the Holy Ghost says in St. Paul's letter to the Corinthians, "Grace be to you and peace from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ. Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort." [Footnote: 2 Cor. i, 2, 3.] How can you and I know what the Lord Jesus found in His Father's love? He has graciously made it known to us in the four Gospels. There the veil is drawn aside and we see how all through His life He was in close fellowship with the Father. We can hear the very words which the Son spoke to His Father in the hour of deep agony: "O My Father, if it be possible let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless not as I will, but as Thou wilt." [Footnote: St. Matt. xxvi. 39.] The last words on His lips when He was dying on the Cross were, "Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit." [Footnote: St. Luke xxiii. 46.] He said to His disciples the last night, "You will leave Me alone; and yet I am not alone, because the Father is with Me." All through His life He spoke of His oneness with the Father and the joy of doing and finishing the work which He gave Him to do. We too can have the sense of God's Presence in our souls at all times. A Christian woman who was suffering from neuralgia told me that one night when she could not sleep, a voice seemed to whisper softly to her, "Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him, for He knoweth our frame, He knows all about our poor bodies, for He made them," [Footnote: Ps. ciii. 13, 14.] and with those words of comfort in her mind she fell into a refreshing sleep. If you will turn to the 6th chapter of St. Matthew again you will see in the 8th verse that our Heavenly Father knows about something else. "He knows what things we have need of before we ask Him." The secret of what it is to have God as our Father, and the sweetness of it, comes out in these three homely questions, What shall we eat, what shall we drink, what shall we wear? And Christ says, [Footnote: St. Matt, vi. 31, 32.] Take no thought, that means, do not be anxious about these things, for your Heavenly Father knoweth that you have need of all these things. Yes, if He knows, that is enough, and then we have only to trust Him for all. Do you find your faith failing sometimes? It is one thing to trust God when the wages are coming in regularly, and quite another thing to trust Him when times are bad. It is just _then_ we learn to look less at our faith and more at God's Faithfulness. A minister once gave a little bit of his experience about this. He said, "It is only as we really take God's promises and plant our feet upon them that we shall find faith abiding in times of testing. The last penny may be gone but GOD is there. I know this to be true. "I have often said when preaching, 'It takes real faith in God to be able to put your head into an empty flour barrel and sing the doxology.' My wife had heard me say this, and one morning she called me to come into the kitchen. I said, 'What do you want me for?' She replied, 'I want you to come out here and sing.' I thought this queer, so I went to see what it all meant. "In the middle of the kitchen was an empty flour barrel that she had just dusted out. 'Now, my dear,' she said, 'I have often heard you say one could put his head into an empty flour barrel and sing, "Praise God from Whom all blessings flow," if he believed what God says. Now here is your chance, practise what you preach.' "There was the empty flour barrel staring at me with open mouth, and my purse was empty too. I looked for my faith, but could not find it; I looked for a way of escape, but could not find one, for my wife blocked the doorway with the dust brush covered with flour. "I said, 'I will put my head in and sing on one condition.' "'What's that?' asked my wife. "'On condition that you will put your head in and sing too. You know you promised to share all my joys and sorrows.' "She consented, so we put our heads in and sang the doxology, and we told our heavenly Father 'all about our need.' Yes, we had a good time, and when we got our heads out we were a good bit powdered up, which we took as a token that there was more flour to follow! "Sure enough, though no one knew of our need, the next day a barrel of flour was sent. Where it came from or who sent it we never knew, but our heavenly Father knew that we had 'need of these things.'" Does not this simple testimony teach us all a lesson? I wonder how many of us can say from our hearts-- Those who trust do not worry; Those who worry do not trust. Which are you doing, dear friends? Trusting or worrying? Count on God. He never fails, and He knows just what to do. The moment a difficulty comes, look up and say "Father," and at once the burden will roll off, He will undertake all for you. I had an illustration of this one day when I was going across the Common. It was very windy, and two little girls lost their hats; they were quite at their wits' end, till they caught sight of their father in the distance, and at once they called to him, "Father, father." That was enough, in a minute he ran to help them. I have often found great help in looking up again and again during the day and just saying "Father." Try it. You, fathers, often say to your children, "If you want me just call me." That is what our heavenly Father tells us to do. To know God means not only to trust Him, but also to _treat_ Him as a Father. If you will read the 6th chapter of St. Matthew carefully when you are at home, you will see that it gives the experience of the child of God with the Father for one whole day. It includes all that we need during the day:--food, clothing, forgiveness, victory over temptation, grace to do God's will, and grace in dealing with others. This experience is so deep, so real, so entirely something between Father and child, that in this chapter we find the words "_in secret_" no less than six times. When the little child is looking up into a loving father's face and talking to him, it never thinks of those around. "In secret" means a sweet sense of His Presence in the soul and of close communion with Him. "I write unto you, little children, because you have known the Father." [Footnote: I St. John ii. 13.] God is our Father, because He is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ: this is one of the greatest treasures of Redeeming Grace. All the teaching about God as Father comes from the lips of Jesus, and it is in this way He reveals the Father to us; so if we would know Him, we must drink in His teaching and watch His life of communion with God. By His life He reveals to us the reality of the experience into which He calls us to enter. He also shows us the way. He not only says "Come to Me," but also Come through Me. "I am the Way: no man cometh unto the Father but by Me." [Footnote: St. John xiv. 6.] It was by dying for us He opened the Way. "God sent forth His Son to redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons." "And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts crying, Abba, Father." [Footnote: Gal. iv. 6, 7] So we are not only received into God's family, but we have also all the privileges of sonship. We are made "heirs of God, joint heirs with Christ." Perhaps you are thinking of your unworthiness; like the Prodigal Son you are ready to say "Father, I have sinned again and again, I am not worthy to be called Thy son." God knows just what you are and what you have been, and He Himself has asked the question, "How shall I put you among the children?" It is a question which none but the Lord would ever have thought of, and it would never have been answered if He Himself had not answered it. It is a wonderful answer: for He says, "Thou shalt call Me, My Father." [Footnote: Jer. iii. 19.] God Himself puts us sinners among His children, and no one else can do it, and He keeps us; for He says, "Thou shalt not turn away from Me." How does He do it? By creating a new life in us, we are "born again." The old nature is not improved, but a new heart is given. "A new heart also will I give you, and a new Spirit will I put within you." [Footnote: Ezek. xxxvi. 26.] Can you say, "God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into my heart," and now I can call Him my Father? Being made the children of God by adoption and grace, let us enjoy the privileges which are secured to us; let us act as loving children should do. Does it all seem too good to be true? Trust His Word, "As many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His Name." [Footnote: St. John i. 12] Some of you remember the joy which thrilled you when you first received Him as your Saviour, but perhaps it was not until afterwards that you realised the blessedness of your new position as sons of God. The Holy Spirit leads us on step by step. First, He assures us that "there is no condemnation," then He sets us free from the bondage of sin and death. [Footnote: Rom. viii. i, 2.] All is changed now, we feel the confidence of a child who has free access to his father at all times. There are three things which mark the children of God, the spiritual mind, the spiritual walk, and the spiritual talk. "The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirits that we are the children of God." [Footnote: Rom. viii. 16.] We then call out with the consciousness of sonship, "Father, Father." The witness of the Spirit was given to me soon after my conversion and thrilled me with joyful assurance. It came to me when a Christian doctor was telling his children about the way of salvation. He drew a line on the carpet with a stick and said, "On one side there is DEATH, on the other, LIFE," and I said to myself, "I know which side of the line I am on." So it was by means of this simple remark that I found out that I was really a child of God, and my heart began from that time to cling to God as my Father. Every day since then I have experienced the blessedness of trusting Him and knowing Him as my Father. Is this your happy portion? If not, why not? ADDRESS III THE SON OF GOD PORTION OF SCRIPTURE--St. John i. 1-18, 29-34. "THIS IS THE SON OF GOD." These are the closing words of John the Baptist's striking testimony, What a grand message! How it thrills us through and through! On and on the glorious words ring out, "_The Son of God is come_." Many years after, when the Apostle John was a very old man, he wrote in one of his letters, "We know that the Son of God is come." [Footnote: I John v. 20.] Now look back to the first words of our chapter. "In the beginning was the Word." Who is the Word? It is "the Son of God." When was the beginning? Long, long ago in Eternity that is past "the Son of God was the brightness of His Father's glory and the express image," [Footnote: Heb. i. 3.] or exact representation, "of His Person." In His last prayer with His disciples our Lord speaks of "the glory which He had with the Father before the world was." [Footnote: St. John xvii. 5.] The first verse of this Gospel takes us back long before this world was created. Then we come to the creation in verse 3: "All things were made by Him." This is exactly what is said in the first verse of the Bible of another beginning, "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." Long before this world was created we read of God's dear Son as "the image of the invisible God, the first-born of every creature." All things were created by Him and for Him, and He is before all things, the Eternal Son of God. [Footnote: Col. i. 15-17.] He says, "I was set up from everlasting from the beginning, before ever the earth was. When He appointed the foundations of the earth, then I was by Him as one brought up with Him; I was daily His delight, rejoicing always before Him: rejoicing in the habitable parts of the earth, and My delights were with the sons of men." [Footnote: Gen. i. 26.] How wonderful it is to think that in the Eternity that is past, and long before the world was made, God had two grand purposes. One was to create man to be the head of the whole human race. So, when the moment came that the earthly home was ready, then God said, "Let Us make man in Our image, after Our likeness." [Footnote: Prov. viii. 23, 29, 30, 31.] The other grand purpose in the Eternal counsel between the Father and His Son was to redeem man after he had fallen through sin. The Redeemer is the Son of God Himself, so He was foreordained to this work of redemption before the Creation of the world--"The Lamb slain from the foundation of the world." [Footnote: Rev. xiii. 8.] Hundreds of years rolled on, and then the glorious message from heaven was sounded forth over the plains of Bethlehem:--"Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy ... for unto you is born this day a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." [Footnote: St. Luke ii. 10, 11.] THE SON OF GOD IS COME _Where_ did He come from? _When_ did He come? _Why_ did He come? These are some of the questions we must try to answer. First, where did He come from? He came forth from God. He was in the bosom of the Father from all Eternity. He said to the disciples, "I came forth from the Father and am come into the world." [Footnote: St. John xvi. 28.] We have read of two beginnings, now we will look at another beginning. In the first chapter of St. Mark's Gospel, and the first verse, we read, "The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God." Here we have the beginning of all that grand and glorious work of Salvation which is still being carried on by our Lord at the Father's right hand in heaven. So we read of three beginnings, and these three are all of God. There is one more which is also of God. It is the beginning of the life of Christ in the soul. When we read about "the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ," we know it means the beginning of His life on earth. Have you ever asked whether there has been a beginning of His life _in your heart_? Is it only what you read about, or is it a personal experience in your soul? Alas! many join in singing the chorus, "What a wonderful Saviour," who cannot say, "He is my own dear Saviour." They have never been able to say "My spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour." What is this personal experience of the life of Christ in the soul? It is what the Apostle Paul describes when he says, "I have been crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ _liveth in me_." [Footnote: Gal. ii. 20.] "Once far from God and dead in sin, No light my heart could see: But in God's Word the light I found, Now Christ liveth in me." In writing to the Galatians he says, "My little children, you for whom I am again undergoing, as it were, the pains of child-birth, until Christ is fully formed within you" [Footnote: Gal. iv. 19.] (Weymouth's translation). THE SON OF GOD IS COME. Secondly, When did He come? "It was when the fulness of the time was come," [Footnote: Gal. iv. 4.] that is when the time was ripe for it. God's clock is never too fast or too slow: so at the exact moment "when the fulness of time was come God sent forth _His Son_." Still and always His Son, but now "made of a woman," "God, manifest in the flesh"--the God-man. THE SON OF GOD IS COME. What is His Name? God Himself gave the Name. "Thou shalt call His name Jesus." [Footnote: St. Matt. i. 21.] No other name was to be given: it is a command, "_thou shalt_ call His name Jesus, for He shall save": that is why He is _come_. "He is come to seek and to save that which was lost." "Thou shalt call His name Jesus, for He Himself shall save His people from their sins." He is presented to us as a living personal Saviour. The promise is, "He, _Himself_ shall save." It means that He will abide in each believing soul for ever. Yes, moment by moment and for ever. He abides in us as the Deliverer from all sin. What a glorious promise! Are you living in the reality of it? "Jesus! Name of wondrous love, Human Name of God above." It is the God-given Name. "The Name which is above every name." Is it precious to you? THE SON OF GOD IS COME. Thirdly, Why did He come? The King sends ambassadors to represent him in foreign countries, but God sent "His own dearly loved Son." "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son." [Footnote: St. John iii. 16.] The little word "_so_" means love in its unutterable fulness, and God is the source of it. Have you ever thanked Him for the unspeakable gift of His dear Son? Link the two words together, _God--the world_: it means God and you: God and me. Then link together _loved_ and _gave_. It will take Eternity to get to the bottom of those two words. Now add that other precious text, "He loved me: He gave Himself for me," [Footnote: Gal. ii. 20.] and you have "the grace of God bringing salvation." Six times in the Epistles we find the words "He gave Himself," and in I Peter ii. 24, it says, "Who His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree." This is why the Son of God is come, and it is this which makes Him so personally real to us when earthly things are fading away. I knew a working man who had a long, painful illness which lasted three years. I rejoice to say that soon after it began he was converted. He was so earnest that his one thought was to tell others what a dear Saviour he had found, and many were led to Christ through his example and testimony. His mother was converted through him and she is now carrying on the Christian work which he began. What was it that changed this man? It was the Holy Spirit revealing Christ to him as a living personal Saviour. The day before he died he said to his sister, "I had such a lovely time with the Master this morning in between the pain. Oh! it was like healing balm to me and He gave me a little hymn-- "'Jesus loves me, He who died Heaven's gate to open wide: He will wash away my sin, Let His little child come in.'" How wonderful that a man nearly 40 years of age should find such comfort in a simple little hymn. But it is thus the Lord reveals Himself. Do you feel that you are like a lost sheep? "The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost." [Footnote: St. Luke xix. 10.] THE SON OF GOD IS COME! It is a fact, a certainty. A great reality. Nothing can take it from us. It is a living experience in our inmost hearts. "And we know," says the Apostle John, "that the Son of God is come, and hath given us an understanding, that we may know Him that is true; and we are in Him that is true, even in His Son, Jesus Christ. This is the true God, and eternal life." [Footnote: I John v. 20.] The Son of God is come and God presents Him to us as His Perfect Son and our Perfect Saviour. Twice during His earthly ministry there was a voice from heaven which said, "This is My beloved Son in whom I am well pleased": "In whom I have perfect delight now and for ever." Can you reply, "This is my Beloved Saviour and He is everything to me"? [Footnote: St. Matt. iii. 17 and xvii. 5.] He is either everything or nothing. Are you like the merchant in the parable, "seeking goodly pearls, who when he had found one pearl of great price went and sold all that he had and bought it"? Is your heart singing "I've found the pearl of greatest price, My heart doth sing for joy; And sing I must for Christ is mine! Christ shall my song employ!" A Chinese convert told one of the missionaries that he happened to take up a Testament which had been sold to the people of the house by a colporteur, but they could not see the meaning of it, so they laid it on one side. "But," he went on to say, "from the moment my eyes lighted upon it, I was greatly attracted by it. So I read and kept on reading till the meaning dawned upon me, and then," he added with a beaming face, "I found the Pearl of Great Price." This reminds me of that strange story of a very valuable pearl necklace worth £117,000 which was lost about a year ago. It was sent by post from Paris to London when it suddenly disappeared and no one knew what had become of it. A very large reward was offered to any one who found it. But now comes the wonderful part of the story. One morning, a man of the name of Horne was on his way to the factory where he was employed when he saw a large match-box lying in the gutter in St. Paul's Road, near London. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. Presently he went into a public-house to have a glass of beer and there he met two of his mates. He took the match-box out of his pocket, pushed it open, and seeing it was filled with what he thought were white beads or marbles, he said to them, "What do you think of these, I've just picked them up?" "Oh! they're no good," replied one of the men, "throw them away." However, Horne decided to take them to the Police Station. The officers looked at them and said they were worth nothing, but gave him a receipt for them. On their way to the factory they turned into another public-house for a drink, and while there Horne found one of the marbles loose in his coat pocket. "Oh!" he said, "I've got one of them left." Holding it up in his fingers, he looked round and asked, "Will any one give me a penny for it?" But no one would have it. In another public-house where they stopped, he offered the pearl for a glass of beer, but no one accepted the offer. The pearl which was worth many hundreds of pounds was despised by one and all. Then Horne offered it for a packet of cigarettes, but again it was handed back with the remark, "That's no good to me." So one of his friends suggested that he should crush it under the heel of his boot as it was no good. Later on when some one asked him what he had done with it he said he had thrown it away. It is a wonderful story and quite true. "Oh!" you say, "what a thousand pities, if that man Horne had only known its value, it would have made him a rich man in one day." Are you not surprised that none of these men ever thought of finding out the real value of that pearl? But is it not stranger still that scarcely any one ever stops to inquire who Jesus Christ really is, and the meaning of His death on the Cross? You listened just now with astonishment to the questions and answers about this valuable pearl, and yet the same questions are being asked every day about another Pearl, God's Pearl of great price, and people are treating it with the same indifference. How the angels must look on and wonder! There are two questions which you have to answer now. First, What think ye of Christ, whose Son is He? Can you say, "He is the Son of God"? Think of the Glory of His Person: it is "the glory of the only begotten of the Father." Think of His Divine Mission: sent by God to be the Saviour now and the Judge by and by. Think of Him as God's great Gift to a perishing world. Have you received Him? The other question which you have to answer is, "What shall I do with Jesus?" Remember God hath given to us Eternal Life and this life is in His Son. "He who has the Son has life, and he who has not the Son of God has not life." [Footnote: I John v. 12.] Jesus is pleading with you, saying, "Ye will not come," that means, you are unwilling to come to Me "that you may have Life." [Footnote: St. John v. 40.] By and by you will have to face another question, "What will He do with me?" "The Son of God is come." It is God Himself who presents Him to us: "Behold the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world." [Footnote: St. John i. 29.] He is the One whom God Himself has provided and set apart: and "now He has appeared once for all to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself." [Footnote: Heb. ix. 26.] There on Calvary's Cross before the eyes of crowds of people "who came together to see that sight," He is set forth as the spotless Son of God who was made an offering for sin. He it is "whom God now sets forth to us as a propitiation." [Footnote: Rom. iii. 25.] He it is, and no other, whom God sets forth as a Mercy seat, the Blood-sprinkled Mercy Seat. God's eye rests on Christ and His finished work, and because it is a full, perfect and sufficient satisfaction for all our sins, "God sets Him forth in order to demonstrate His righteousness that He may be shown to be righteous Himself and the giver of righteousness to those who believe in Jesus." Oh, what a comfort it is to me to know that He is always there standing before God as the Righteous One, and therefore when God looks at me in all my unworthiness He does not see me, He only sees His dear Son. When that godly physician Sir James Simpson was dying, the minister who was by his bedside asked if he had any doubts. He looked up and said, "I have no doubts; when I stand before God I shall just _hold up Christ to God."_ This is why Jesus is come, and this is why Jesus died, that the believing soul may hold Him up to God as "the One who has been made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification and redemption," [Footnote: I Cor. i. 30.] and it is all God's doing, from first to last. I love to say to myself,-- "I'm a poor sinner and nothing at all, But Jesus Christ is my all in all." Our salvation depends on believing God's Word, that He has accepted our Surety. When God raised Him from the dead, it was a proof that all the claims of His holiness and justice had been fully met and satisfied. The debt is paid because Jesus paid it all. He gave Himself as a ransom--the redemption price for all. So now God sets Him forth in all His untold preciousness and proclaims the glorious message, "_Deliver him_, that poor helpless sinner, from going down into the pit. I have found a ransom." [Footnote: Job xxxiii. 24.] What was the price to be paid? "The Son of man is come to give His life a ransom for many." "We are redeemed, not with silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ." Who can tell how precious? "More precious far than gold." Think what it _cost_ the Father: He gave His only Son. "Having yet one son, His well-beloved, He said, I will send Him." Think what it cost the Son of God. Think of His agony in the garden, and then the hiding of His Father's face, and last of all the pouring out His soul unto death on the cross. Our redemption is doubly precious, not only because of the price paid, but because of the Divine and Holy One who paid it, the Lord of glory, even the Son of God Himself, "Which things even the _angels_ desire to look into." [Footnote: 1 Pet. i. 12.] They long to see into the depths of this wondrous redeeming love. Can you sing this chorus from your heart-- "Precious, precious, Precious is my Lord to me; Precious, precious, Everything in Him I see." Think of what we have been rescued from! Christ has redeemed us from sin, and death and hell. Think of the cost of this great salvation, and then ask yourself, how much is it worth to me? We shall only be able to answer that question when we are safe home in the glory. Then we shall be looking back on death, looking back on the Judgment of the great White Throne, as never having come into it: looking back on the old world which has passed away. "When this passing world is done, When has sunk yon glorious sun, When I go to Christ in glory, Looking o'er life's finished story; Then, Lord, shall I fully know Not till then--how much I owe." Think of the last plague which God sent upon Egypt. It was not till the midnight cry, that exceeding great and bitter cry had resounded through the land of Egypt showing that the destroying angel had entered the houses of the Egyptians, leaving death and desolation there; it was not till _the judgment had actually come_ that the Israelites realised the delivering power of the blood which they had sprinkled on their doorposts. Think of their wonder and of their thankfulness. They had believed and obeyed before, but _now_ their hearts are filled with gratitude and praise. If you have really cast yourself and all your sins on Christ, then you too will join in the new song, saying, "Thou art worthy, for Thou wast slain and hast redeemed us to God by Thy Blood." [Footnote: Rev. v. 9.] To _receive_ Christ now into our hearts by faith is to be born of God: [Footnote: St. John. i. 12, 13.] spiritual life is imparted to the believer. To _feed_ upon Christ day by day is to live by Him: [Footnote: St. John vi. 57.] this is the evidence of life in the believer. To see Christ by and by and to be like Him, is life perfected in glory. [Footnote: 1 John iii. 2.] Dear fellow sinners, let me entreat you most earnestly in the light of an Eternity that is coming, and as you value your precious, never-dying souls, do not trifle with God's unspeakable Gift. "How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?" [Footnote: Heb. ii. 3.] No one either in heaven or upon earth can answer that question. If the lost in hell could speak to us they would tell us that there is _no_ escape. THE SON OF GOD IS COME, and oh! the wonder of it all, "He came to where I was." The words of this beautiful hymn describe it-- "I looked and there was none to help, 'No man' could meet my case: A weary, world-worn heart was mine, Without a resting place. Then One drew near, the Christ of God, With pitying eyes He scanned, Jesus came to me where I was, And took me by the hand. "He led me first to Calvary's mount, And, oh! what sight it gave! The agony, the life out-poured, It cost Him there to save. My heart fell broken at His feet, Who could such love withstand? The love that came to where I was, And took me by the hand. "He lifted me upon a rock, Round me His light He shed; He poured His peace into my heart, He healed, He held, He fed. Ah! then I knew that holy One, The whole could understand. The One who came to where I was, And took me by the hand. "And since that day, through all the days, His love my way has planned: He comes to bless me where I am, He takes me by the hand. This glorious One is all to me, He shall my life command, The Christ who came to where I was, And took me by the hand." ADDRESS IV THE SPIRIT OF GOD PORTION OF SCRIPTURE--St. John iv. 1-26 God is a Spirit. Look at this poor woman standing at the well and let us try and realise what a wonderful revelation it was which Christ made known to her soul about God. He told her that God is Father, that God is Saviour, and that God is Spirit; three Persons but one God. The Lord opened her heart and she grasped this wondrous truth. Christ said to her, "God the Father is seeking you, He is longing for you to come to Him." Then He let her feel and see that He is the Saviour. Was it not wonderful that she was the first to tell the good news that He is "the Saviour of the world"? [Footnote: St. John iv. 42.] Christ said to her, "God is a Spirit," and she found that no one else but God could touch her heart. Until the Spirit of God comes into our hearts, we cannot really know God personally or have communion with Him. "Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is of God; that we might know the things that are freely given to us of God." [Footnote: 1 Cor. ii. 12.] Although our hearts are so sinful the Holy Spirit is longing to come in. He found an entrance into the heart of this poor woman whose life was a wreck with its four great failures. Every life is a failure in God's sight, but we must never despair of any one, for "with God all things are possible," and as long as life lasts there is hope for the sinner. "The Lord opened her heart," she heard and believed, and went home to tell others what a dear Saviour she had found. It was the beginning of a revival at Sychar, and every revival begins in the same way, God is revealed by His Spirit and men realise the nearness of God. Until a man really finds out what God is, there can be no true spiritual worship. This is the truth Jesus came to make known to us when He says, "God is a Spirit, and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth," for the Father seeketh such to worship Him. Yes, the Father is seeking us, yearning for us to come close to Him and to respond to His love for us. When our Lord tells us that we must worship in spirit, He means that it is the spirit in man which responds to the Spirit of God. Do you offer Him your heart's devotion and praise, or is it only lip-worship? True spiritual worship does not depend on forms or ceremonies or on any special place or time. I felt the point of this when a railwayman said to me, "We can be in touch with God all the day long." God is a Spirit, just as "God is Light." [Footnote: 1 John i. 5.] And there are no limitations as to where He works or His ways and time of working. The Holy Spirit reveals to us far more about God than we ever imagined. The Bible says, "Eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him. But God hath revealed them unto us by His Spirit." [Footnote: 1 Cor. ii. 9, 10.] Until the Holy Spirit opens our blind eyes to see spiritual things we cannot understand them. It is not the words of man's wisdom which can explain them, we need to use spiritual words for spiritual truths, so we can only speak as the Holy Spirit teaches us what to say. "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him," [Footnote: 1 Cor. ii. 14.] he does not grasp the meaning of them. It is because God is a Spirit that he meets our spiritual need when we feel altogether helpless and hopeless in ourselves, for He says, "I will put My Spirit within you." [Footnote: Ezek. xxxvi. 27.] God begins in the very centre of our being, in our innermost hearts. God makes Himself known to us as God, through our spiritual necessities. The Presence of the Holy Spirit is a personal thing in each one who receives Him. There is only one way by which we can receive the Holy Spirit, and that is by faith. The Holy Ghost has been given. Will you ask yourself, Have I received Him? If not, why not? When God puts His Spirit into our hearts He abides with us for ever. He never leaves us. Even when we grieve Him by our coldness of heart, He does not leave us. It is God who begins the work of grace in our hearts. The Book which reveals to us what God is, opens with the words, "In the Beginning, _God_." [Footnote: Gen. i. 1.] God is the Beginner of all things, not only of the creation of the world, but of the new creation in our souls. This Book unfolds to us how God begins and finishes the great work of redemption and salvation. We find another marvellous beginning which is also unfolded in this Book. "The Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." [Footnote: 1 Gen. i. 2.] It is a remarkable word; it means the Spirit of God brooded on the face of the waters. In Genesis we read, "The Spirit of God was brooding," and in the Gospels we find the Spirit of God compared to a dove. The word "brooding" is a figure of the mother dove brooding over her nest and cherishing her young. The first time the Holy Spirit is mentioned in the Old Testament is in this verse, and the first emblem of the Holy Spirit in the New Testament is in the 3rd chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel, where it says that, after our Lord had been baptized, "The heavens were opened unto Him, and He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting upon Him." [Footnote: St. Matt. iii. 16.] First let us look at the background of the picture. We see darkness and desolation, death and ruin. Then we see the Spirit of God, the Dove of peace, brooding over it all, and bringing light and life, love and peace out of the confusion. So the two thoughts which are here brought to our minds are Motherhood and Peace. If you look carefully into the Word of God you will see how the thought of Motherhood is brought before us in many ways in connection with the Person and Work of the Holy Spirit. When Christ is speaking of the New Birth, He says we are "born of the Spirit." [Footnote: St. John iii. 6.] Again, when the cry of the new-born soul is spoken of, we are told how it comes; for Paul says, "God hath sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father." [Footnote: Gal. iv. 6] Again there is the beautiful expression, "The Spirit of Adoption." "We have received the Spirit of adoption whereby we cry Abba, Father." [Footnote: Rom. viii. 15.] "Abba" means "dear Father." When God would reveal His heart of love to us He says, "As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you." [Footnote: Isa. lxvi. 13.] Think of a mother busy with her work, and her little one playing on the floor. Presently there is a cry, it has fallen down, and in a moment the mother is by its side to soothe it. But there is something sweeter still. Even if nothing befall the child the mother is near by to help it over every difficulty and to respond to every look and sign. Even so our God who is to us our Mother Comforter, says, "Before they call I will answer, and while they are yet speaking I will hear." [Footnote: Isa. lxv. 24] The little child always turns to its mother for comfort in every trouble. There is one thing which we notice in every home, that is, the mother's tender love and constant care for her little one. Night and day her child is her one thought. So the Lord says of His people, "I the Lord do keep it, lest any hurt it, I will keep it night and day." [Footnote: Isa. xxvii. 3.] Every child of God can say-- "Moment by moment I'm kept in His love." Does the child need the mother's constant, watchful care? Yes, because everything around is like a new world to the little one, it is all a new experience. The mother gives herself up so entirely to the child that it depends on her for everything. In the same way when the soul is born again it is brought into a new relation to God, it has entered into a new experience and the Holy Spirit becomes to it just what the mother is to the child and much more. Just as the mother trains the little one to take the first steps in walking and holds it up, so it is the Holy Spirit who teaches us how to walk and to please God. The little hand is slipped into mother's hand to be led and held up. "As many as are led by the Spirit of God they are the sons of God." [Footnote: Rom. viii. 14.] The mother keeps the child close to her, so the Holy Spirit is the Comforter to us, by our side, for the word "Comforter" means, The one whom we call to our side to help us. Just as the mother tells her child what to say when it wants anything, so He helps us when we pray, "for we know not what we should pray for as we ought." [Footnote: Rom. viii. 26.] "The Comforter is come." When did He come? On the day of Pentecost, for it was _then_ that the Holy Spirit was poured out, and He has been with us ever since. Let those words ring in your heart and in your life, "The Comforter is come." [Footnote: St. John xv. 26.] There is a beautiful hymn which illustrates the presence and work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts. It begins with the words-- "Spirit Divine! attend our prayers, And make our hearts Thy home." Then four things are mentioned which show forth God's power in Nature. Light, fire, dew, wind. In the Bible they are all used as symbols of the Presence and Power of the Holy Spirit working in the hearts of men. In Nature we know that human power is small compared with the power of light, fire, wind, and water. Have we learnt to depend only on the Power of the Holy Ghost? God's Voice is ever saying to us now, oh! that we may listen, "Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the Lord." [Footnote: Zech. iv. 6.] Just as all the marvels of the natural world are perfectly carried out by God's wisdom and power, so He has given the Holy Spirit to make Him perfectly known as a living Presence, a living Power and Reality in our hearts and lives. In the second verse of the hymn we find the words-- "Come as the Light--to us reveal Our emptiness and woe." We know what the light does when it shines into a room, It reveals or shows up any dust we had not noticed before. So when the light of God shines into our hearts it reveals what we never saw before. Have you ever watched the battleships on a dark night, anchored a little way off from the coast? Suddenly the bright dazzling searchlights are sent out from the ship. They seem to sweep over the ocean with their sparkling light and then to wrap you round, as you stand there on the shore. The sight fills you with wonder; you feel as if the eyes of all on board ship can see you. It is the same when the Holy Spirit shines into our hearts; it is almost overwhelming; we can only cry, "Woe is me, for I am undone." [Footnote: Isa. vi. 5.] We stand condemned under the searching eye of God. All our self-righteous excuses are swept away. We can no longer take refuge in the fact that we are as good as others and a great deal better than some of our neighbours. The dazzling light of God's Presence has searched us through and through and turned us inside out. Is this searching necessary for every one? Yes, for it is the only way we can learn to know the evil of our hearts. Sometimes the light of the Holy Spirit comes to us in a quiet moment and shows us what we never saw before. Sometimes it comes like a flash. It flashed out on the road when Saul of Tarsus was on his way to Damascus. He described it when he was being tried before King Agrippa, "At midday, O King, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me. And I fell to the ground and I heard a voice saying unto me, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? And he tells us also that he could not see for the glory of that light." [Footnote: Acts xxvi. 13, xxii 17.] Whenever the light comes it is a revelation, a moment never to be forgotten: Darkness conceals, light reveals. The Spirit of God brooded over the face of the waters, and God said, "Let there be light and there was light." [Footnote: Gen. i. 3.] The Holy Spirit not only shows us what we are, but He shows Christ to us; then we see the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. "For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." [Footnote: 2 Cor. iv. 6.] Yes, God's glory is radiant on the face of Christ and the Holy Spirit reveals it. He delights to show us His beauty and His loveliness and thus to glorify Him. He makes Him a reality in our souls--"a living bright Reality." If you have not seen Him as "altogether lovely" it is not because the Holy Spirit is not willing to show Him to you, but because you turn away and will not look. How good it is of God to send the Holy Spirit into this world on purpose to reveal these things to us. We should never see them but for Him. "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, neither can he know them because they are spiritually discerned." [Footnote: I Cor. ii. 14.] What is the natural man? It is what we are by nature before the Spirit of God gives us a new life. When it says "He receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God," it means that he has no power to receive them. He is groping in the dark, loving the darkness rather than the light. A poor woman who had led a careless worldly life, sent me this message when she was dying, "Tell her the little prayer she taught me has been answered. She will understand. Tell her God has shown me myself and He has shown me Himself, so I am going to be with Him." The little prayer which she had learnt from my lips was this--"Lord, show me myself; Lord, show me Thyself." How I thanked God that He used it for the saving of her soul. When the Holy Spirit convinces us of sin and of our need of a Saviour, He does not leave us there. He draws aside the veil and reveals to us the secret love of God. When our eyes have been opened to know that God is _Light_, then we find out that God is _Love_. How did this love of God show itself? God sent His Son, "In this was manifested the love of God towards us because that God sent His only begotten Son into the world that we might live through Him." [Footnote: 1 John iv. 9.] It is not only the Love of God made known and shining out in the Gift of His Son, but we are told that "God commendeth His love towards us." [Footnote: Rom. v. 8.] How does God commend His love? He sets together His love for His Son and His love for the sinner, and His love for the sinner is so great that He gave His Son to die for us. Thus the words "God commendeth His love" make it quite clear that "God loves the sinner with a love which gives its best, gives everything, keeping nothing back, and gives to everybody." "Oh, the love that gave Jesus to die, The love that gave Jesus to die, Praise God it is mine this love so Divine-- The love that gave Jesus to die." "God commendeth His love towards us in that, when we were yet sinners," it makes no difference _who_ we are or _what_ we have been, the Holy Spirit fixes our thoughts on that little word "yet." The text says, "When we were yet sinners, still far off, still lost and undone, Christ died for us"; so the Blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, "cleanseth us from all sin." [Footnote: I John i. 7.] When we feel that sin is really a burden then the Holy Spirit points us to the little word "all." Then He applies the precious Blood to our guilty consciences, assuring us by the Word that the Blood of Jesus Christ does cleanse from all sin so that not a single stain is left. It is a perfect cleanser, there is nothing it cannot do. Then the Holy Spirit shows us that God has provided a perfect covering for us in the Robe of Christ's Righteousness. It is thus that the Comforter, who is the Spirit of Truth, leading into all truth, shows us the meaning of Christ's redeeming work and enables us to understand it and to appropriate it. When we do this it is indeed a blessed experience. A young man whom I know described it as follows: "I heard the voice of God saying to me, 'Who told thee that thou wast naked?' [Footnote: Gen. iii. 11.] I am sure that it was the work of the Holy Spirit showing me my utter helplessness and leading me to seek the covering of Christ's Righteousness. I feel I am exactly suited to Jesus as He is exactly suited to me, for I am just the one who needs His fulness, and He is the only one that can supply my emptiness." I praised God for this clear testimony, and I have seen again and again ever since I began to work for the Lord many years ago, that the Holy Spirit delights to reveal the Lord Jesus Christ as "a full Saviour for empty sinners." The Gospel of St. John tells us very plainly that the Holy Ghost was sent, not only to make us see the meaning of Christ's finished work, but also to prepare our hearts to receive it in all its fulness. How does the Holy Spirit prepare our hearts? First, He opens our hearts, awakens in us a sense of our need and sinfulness, then, when He has opened our hearts, He breathes into them a new life; He creates a longing for God. We feel within us a burning desire to know God. We catch eagerly at everything we hear about God, This is quite a new experience; we used to go on year after year not troubling about it in the very least. What is this new experience, this seeking after God? It is what the Bible calls "Repentance." The word means "Change of mind." Again and again the Apostle Paul urged upon both Jews and Greeks the necessity of "repentance towards God and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ." [Footnote: Acts xx. 21.] A few days ago I received a touching letter from a young friend telling me how God's Spirit had led her to repentance. She wrote, "When I was a little girl and began to seek the Lord, I was very much troubled because I could not feel sorry enough for my sins. I wanted a real repentance to come to the Lord with. I thought repentance meant crying over one's sins a great deal, and I could not feel sorry enough to cry as I wanted to. I used to keep praying, 'Give me a real repentance.' Many times I dreamed I had this deep repentance and could cry over my sins, and I have awakened with my face really bathed in tears, but oh, how disappointing it was to find it only a dream and I had not got what I wanted after all. I went on like this until I was twenty, when the Lord spoke these words with great power to my soul, 'The goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance.' The voice seemed audible and I turned to see if anybody had spoken to me. I was able to weep enough then, but they were tears of joy and gratitude, and I well remember saying aloud, 'O Lord, why me, why one so sinful as I am?' I now see that repentance means 'a change of mind' and not a flood of tears. Had I known this when a child it would have saved me years of toiling and praying for repentance." Dear friends, perhaps some of you are trying to get right with God. Look at the text which gave such peace to this seeking one. It begins with this question, "Despisest thou the riches of His goodness and forbearance and longsuffering, not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance?" [Footnote: Rom. ii. 4.] We little know that all the time we are working and toiling we are really despising, turning away from the riches of His goodness. The word "riches" shows how abundant His goodness is; therefore we are "without excuse." God's forbearance in delaying punishment, and His longsuffering in patiently waiting, show that His purpose in thus dealing with us is to lead us to repentance, which is not merely grief for sin, but a thorough inward change. So we now know what we did not know before, that it is "the goodness of God that leads us to repentance." Yes, we find now that instead of working our way, back to God, He is there close to us, with open arms to receive us, stretching out His loving Hand to save us. We find that instead of trying to gain God's favour by our prayers and good works, God's Righteousness is there for us all ready and provided for us. We find that we are accepted in His dear Son not for any good thing we have done, but simply by faith in Jesus. All this is shown to us by the Holy Spirit, and without Him we could not have seen it. We were speaking just now about repentance. Have you ever noticed that when our Lord began preaching the Gospel, the first word He said was "Repent." [Footnote: St. Matt. iv. 17.] Why did He call to the crowds so earnestly to repent? Again and again that word keeps ringing out. He wanted to make them see that He condemned the way they were living and their religious professions. It was a call to stop and think, as if He said to them, "You have lost your way, you are on the wrong road, stop and turn round." First He points to the right road. He proclaims that the Kingdom of God is come. Then He says to them, But before you can enter in you must repent. The people recognised the meaning of the call; they knew that if they obeyed the whole course of their lives would have to be changed, because having lost the true centre of life, they were simply _drifting_. The man who is living without God is like a ship drifting on the wide ocean without a pilot or chart or compass. For three years He pleaded with them tenderly and lovingly, and at last they gave their final answer to His message. They said, "We will not submit to the Divine government, we will not have this Man to reign over us," [Footnote: St. Luke xix. 14.] _and so they crucified Him_. When we have been led by the Holy Spirit to repentance we see sin, and we see ourselves in a new light. As soon as we really know God we cannot help being sorry for our sin. We begin to long for a Saviour, a Mediator, and it is then that the Holy Spirit points us to Jesus. Repentance, or change of mind, is the first step, and then follows conversion--a change of heart and life. The word conversion means "turning round." Jesus says, "Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven." [Footnote: St. Matt. xviii. 3.] Think of God's two great gifts; first, the Gift of His only begotten Son, then the Gift of the Holy Spirit. Have you received them? Perhaps you ask, "How can I know?" If you have received the Holy Spirit there will be joy and peace in your heart, and the fruits of the Spirit will be seen in your daily life. "Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost." [Footnote: Rom. xv. 13.] "And the disciples were filled with joy and with the Holy Ghost." [Footnote: Acts xiii. 52.] They were filled again and again, more and more filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit. You, too, may have a Spirit-filled life. God says to you now, and He is saying it every day and every hour, "_Be filled with the Spirit._" [Footnote: Eph. v. 18.] Remember there are different degrees in the Christian life. First, there is Everlasting Life for all who seek it. Only ask Me, Jesus said to the woman of Samaria, and I will give you _living_ water. Then he leads her on a step further. "It shall be in you a well of water." It will be an abundant life, a joyous, satisfying life. Afterwards He tells us that it will be a life "overflowing for others." [Footnote: St. John vii. 38, 39.] This is to be the experience of all believers now through the Holy Spirit. Lastly, the crowning of it all is still to come and we shall drink of "the pure river of the Water of Life." [Footnote: Rev. xxi. 1.] That will be the fulness of life through all Eternity. ADDRESS V THE VOICE OF GOD PORTION OF SCRIPTURE--Genesis xxviii. 10-22. Jacob is leaving home for the first time, to take a long journey of 450 miles. He is quite alone and he feels very lonely when he lies down the first night in a barren place, with a stone for his pillow. Jacob was like some of us, he had heard about God ever since he was a child, but God was not real to him because he had never had any personal dealings with Him. That night he had a wonderful dream, and it made a great difference to his whole life. The ladder which he saw in his dream was to show him that there was a gulf between him and God: and the gulf was caused by his sins. It also showed the necessity for some means of communication to be provided for him. Right down to his deep need the ladder came, right up to God Himself the ladder reached. It was set up on earth and it reached to heaven to make him understand that the gulf had been bridged over, so that now, constant, free communication was possible between his soul and God. The ladder which Jacob saw in his dream is mentioned again in St. John's Gospel. Jesus said to Nathaniel, "Because I said unto thee I saw thee under the fig tree, believest thou? Thou shalt see greater things than these. And He saith unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Hereafter ye shall see heaven open and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man." [Footnote: St. John i. 50, 51.] The Lord Jesus had been revealing Himself to Nathaniel and this conversation took place near Bethel, so that the reference to Jacob's ladder was very forcible and the wonderful type was made clear. When Jesus said that heaven would be opened, He meant not only opened just once, but _remaining open_; so that ever since Christ ascended into heaven we have lived and are still living under an "open heaven," which means free intercourse between God and man, because Christ Himself is the Ladder. It also means He is the one and only means of communication between the sinner and God. It is "through Him we have access by one Spirit unto the Father." [Footnote: Eph. ii. 18.] All that we know of God comes to us through Him, and all the grace we receive from God comes through Him. So Jacob's ladder is as real to us now as it was to him then, for it connects the seen with the unseen. It is possible for us now to have Christ's Presence with us always and everywhere, for He says Lo, I am with you alway. [Footnote: Matt. xxviii. 20.] But there was something more wonderful for Jacob to see even than the ladder. "The LORD stood above the ladder." It was the first time in his life he had realised the Presence of God. He had lived over forty years without realising that God was close to him. When he awoke from his dream he said, "Surely the Lord is in this place and I knew it not." He never forgot it, just as we never forget the time and place where we are converted. One hundred years after that night, when he was a very old man, he mentioned it to his son. He said to Joseph, "God Almighty appeared unto me at Luz and blessed me." [Footnote: Gen. xlviii. 3.] But what impressed him deeply was that _there_ in that lonely place, many miles away from any human being, he heard the Voice of God speaking to him. It was then that a new life began in his soul, for God told him that from that moment He would be with him _everywhere_, blessing him and protecting him from all danger, and it was then Jacob began to trust God as his _God_. So we see how God's glory and God's grace were shining down from the top of the ladder into poor Jacob's heart. Jacob was face to face with God for the first time, and he began to tremble with fear. If only you could realise that God is now, at this very moment, straight in front of you, you would fall down on your face before Him, and you would cry to Him as Job did, "I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth Thee; wherefore I abhor myself and repent in dust and ashes." [Footnote: Job xlii. 5, 6.] It is at this moment that we realise for the first time our need of a substitute, just as Job did, for he said, "He is not a man as I am that I should answer Him, neither is there any daysman betwixt us that can lay His hand upon us both." [Footnote: Job ix. 33.] How Job would have rejoiced in the glorious revelation which Christ has brought to us. "There is one God, and one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus, Who gave Himself a ransom for all." [Footnote: 1 Tim. ii. 5, 6.] He is not only the Mediator laying His hand upon us both, but He _gave Himself_, that is, He gave His life as a _ransom_. The ransom price was His own precious blood, for the life is in the blood. It is the Blood of God's own dear Son which makes an atonement for the soul. The sentence passed on you and me and on every sinner is the sentence of death, for death is the penalty for sin. We are all under the sentence of death, but the glorious message is sent God has found a Substitute. "He bore on the tree the sentence for me, And now both the Surety and sinner are free." You and I now have what Job longed for so earnestly. The Daysman is the Son of God Himself, "Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation," that is an atoning sacrifice, "through faith in His Blood." [Footnote: Rom. iii. 25.] At first Jacob trembled with fear, but after he had heard the loving words which God spoke to him from the top of that wonderful ladder, then he began to realise that he was no longer alone in that lonely place. He said, "This is the house of God, this is the gate of heaven." Earth had faded from his sight and he was surrounded by heavenly realities. And so it is now, the veil is very thin which separates earth from heaven, the temporal from the Eternal. It was _God's Voice_ which woke him up spiritually. God revealed Himself as the personal God to Jacob. We can recognise a friend by his voice even if we do not see him. So it is the Voice more than anything else which makes the presence of any one real to us. We have an illustration of this in the pictures of the gramophone in which we see a dog listening for the master's voice. The sheep knows the shepherd's voice; the child is quick in recognizing its mother's voice; why do we turn a deaf ear to God's Voice? How tenderly He pleads with us, saying, "But My people would not hearken to My Voice." [Footnote: Ps. lxxxxi. 11.] God wants to be very real and very personal to each one of us, so He says, "Unto you, O men, I call, and My Voice is to the sons of man." [Footnote: Prov. viii. 4.] God has been calling us from the very beginning. Far back in the 3rd chapter of Genesis, when Adam was hiding among the trees of the garden, it was God's Voice which called him out with the searching question, Where art thou? It was as if He said, "Adam, I want you." He is the seeking God still. It was God's Voice that reminded Adam of the holy, happy friendship now broken by sin. Before sin came into the world Adam never listened to any other voice, and now when God is yearning to bring us to Himself, He says, "Listen." That word Listen, or Hearken, comes again and again in the Bible. We find it very often in Isaiah and Jeremiah. When God is pleading with the sinner, that is the word He uses more than any other. In Psalm lxxxi., where God tells us how grieved He is by our waywardness, He says, "Oh that My people had listened or hearkened unto Me." And in Deuteronomy xxviii. 45, He tells them that their troubles have been sent because they would not hearken to the Voice of the Lord their God. I think God has chosen this special way of calling us by His Voice, because it is what we can all understand--it is so simple and so homely. When a boy is disobedient the father calls him, then he talks to him and pleads with him. The father's voice touches the boy's heart. How wonderful it is that God's Voice can reach us, however far off we may be. You have sometimes been to an Open-Air Service, and you have heard the speaker's voice a good way off, but now it has been discovered that any one's voice can travel through the air and be heard above 300 miles away by means of a new apparatus called the wireless telephone. Some time ago a gentleman living in England put a special receiver to his ear and he actually heard a man speaking in France, more than 300 miles away. A year or two ago when the _Titanic_ went down among the icebergs, you remember how the wireless telegraph sent messages to other ships calling for help. This was done by special letters, flashed across the ocean, such as C.Q.D. (come quick, danger) or when the ship was sinking S.O.S. (save our souls). But wonderful as this is, how much more wonderful it is to discover a way by which any one's voice can be heard miles and miles away. Very likely as time goes on and the wireless telephone is more used, you will be able to speak to your father or son far away in Australia or Canada, so that they will not only hear your voice distinctly, but they will answer back, and you will hear their voices just as if you were sitting together again at home. What a wonderful thing it will be to have this close link with them! It is the same as the link which Jacob felt when he heard God's voice speaking; it seemed to bring God quite close to him and to make God so real, that he started again on his journey cheered and encouraged; for we read in the first verse of the next chapter, "Then Jacob went on his journey," and in the margin it says he lifted up his feet, showing his heart was lightened of its burden: when the heart is heavy, our feet drag. But he made a fresh start: and if only God's Voice reaches your heart now, you will go on your way rejoicing; it will be like making a fresh start. Again and again we read of God talking to those who were willing to hear His Voice. For example, "The LORD talked with Moses face to face as a man speaketh unto his friend," [Footnote: Exod. xxxiii. 9, 11.] and at Mount Sinai "Moses spake and God answered him by a Voice." Not only is the link of communication perfect between God and man, but the way in which we can use it and be put in touch with God is so simple: it is by faith--that is all. We have another illustration of this when we think of the wireless messages. The world's greatest wireless station is in a little village called Nassau, in Germany. A short time ago a message was sent to a place far, far away over the ocean, 6,500 miles away. How was it started? Only by touching a key in the machine. That touch releases the lightning which carries a message for thousands of miles over vast continents and across the boundless sea. Only a touch--is it not like the touch of faith? But we must not forget that when the message has reached its destination, when these waves of sound talk across the world, the ear at the other end must be prepared to hear the call. There is the hearing of faith, as well as the touch of faith. The hearing means not only listening, but being willing to obey the voice. I have been told that when a message is to be sent by wireless telephone, the other waves of sound must be quite still before the person receiving the message can hear it. The speaker has to wait till the vibrations settle down, there must be perfect stillness, and then the voice is heard. How important it is to shut out all other sounds so that our hearts may be still enough to hear God speak. We must listen with an obedient heart. Do you remember how one Sunday was set apart not long ago to make collections for the blind. At midnight on Saturday, a royal message was sent forth which encircled the whole world. It was King George's "God speed" to the appeal for the blind. It was flashed from the wireless station on a lonely cliff in Cornwall to another station in America, and it went over the seven oceans of the world. It was received by forty-five ships in the Atlantic. They were all warned it was coming and they were expecting it. The White Star liner _Baltic_, 810 miles away, heard it, and it travelled on to India, and it was caught up there 1,500 miles away. This reminds me of another royal message from the King of kings which is also encircling the world and telling the good news wherever man is willing to hear it. "He that hath an ear let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the Churches." [Footnote: Rev. ii. 7.] How the solemn call rings out, and rings on: To-day, To-day! How it sounds in our ears with startling urgency, and it is the Holy Ghost who says it, "To-day, if you will hear His Voice, harden not your heart." [Footnote: Heb. iii. 7.] When we are careless and indifferent to what God's Voice is saying to us then we are hardening our hearts. Perhaps in days gone by you once listened to God's Voice. Why did you give up listening? "Ah!" you reply, "other voices came and drowned that still small Voice, and the voice of the Evil One poisoned my mind." Let me ask you one more question, Has God's Voice ever stopped calling? No, God is still calling. Oh, that now at this very moment you may be able to say, "The Voice of God has reached my heart." If any of you turn a deaf ear to God's Voice, remember the time is coming when "all who are in the graves shall hear His Voice and shall come forth"; [Footnote: St. John. v. 25.] and to you it will be a coming forth to judgment and condemnation. How does God speak to us now? We can hear the Voice of God speaking in His Word. When any portion of Scripture is specially impressed on our minds it shows that God is speaking to us. A young man who had been seeking God very earnestly said one day, "While reading the Word, I felt certain that God had really spoken to my soul, that He had actually said to me, Live!" Yes, that young man was right, for that is just what God has said to us, but it makes all the difference whether we each one receive it as if God is really saying it to us personally. Luther felt this, for he used to say, "When I open the Bible it talks to me." Why is the Bible like no other book? Because it is the revelation of God Himself. The glory of God shines in its pages. In life and in death the only source of comfort is a Personal God. Our great need is to have God personally near, _near and dear_. Never rest till you can look up into His Face with confidence and say, "Thou art near, O Lord." [Footnote: Ps. cxix. 151.] He is saying to you now, "Seek ye my Face." [Footnote: Ps. xxvii. 8.] What answer will you give? Will you say to God now, "Thy Face, Lord, will I seek." When we seek His Face, then we see "the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." [Footnote: 2 Cor. iv. 6.] How grand it all is, and yet how simple! Let me say one word of loving appeal to any who have never really sought the Lord. How is it that you say your prayers and yet you do not expect to get an answer direct from God? Because, like Jacob, you have never believed there is a God. You have not got hold of the first truth which the Bible teaches us, _God is_; "He that cometh to God must believe that HE IS." [Footnote: Heb. xi. 6.] When you pray, He must be as real to you as if you saw Him standing by hearing and answering you. Until our eyes are opened to see that death and judgment, heaven and hell, are great realities we do not really cry to God, and when we do we find out that we have never realised there is a God. Think of what God offers to you. Forgiveness, life and glory. Would you neglect getting these priceless gifts if you believed they were the real offers of a real Person? "What meanest thou, O sleeper? Arise, call upon thy God." [Footnote: Jonah i. 6.] ADDRESS VI THE HANDS OF GOD PORTION OF SCRIPTURE--St. John xx. 19-31. Why has this Gospel been written? The last verse of this chapter tells us. "It has been written that we may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing we may have life through His Name." In the Old Testament when "The Name" is mentioned it meant the unveiling of the grace and glory and power of God. So we read men called upon "The Name"--and in the New Testament when the Divine glory of Christ is described we find the same expression, "His Name." It means His nature and His character. In the verse which we have just read, the wonderful truth shines out that it is through His Name, through all that He is, and all He has done, that we have _life_. So Christ Himself declares, "My sheep hear My Voice and I know them and they follow Me, and I give unto them Eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My Hand. My Father, which gave them Me, is greater than all, and no man is able to pluck them out of My Father's hand. I and My Father are one." [Footnote: St. John x. 27-30.] Christ first speaks of His own hand and then of His Father's hand, so there are two hands which hold us fast and keep us safe, now and for ever. Let us look at what is said about the Hands of God in the Bible. Think of God's Hands in creation. The Psalmist says, "Of old hast Thou laid the foundation of the earth: and the heavens are the work of Thy hands." [Footnote: Psa. cii. 25.] "The sea is His and He made it: and His hands formed the dry land." [Footnote: Ps. xcv. 5.] Think of His strong Hands in Providence, as Moses said, "Thy right hand, O LORD, is become glorious in power." [Footnote: Exod. xv. 6.] Nehemiah speaks again and again of "the good hand of my God upon me," [Footnote: Neh. ii. 8.] when he tells us of all God's loving help and guidance in the difficult work he had undertaken. Think again of God's loving Hands in grace, healing the broken in heart and binding up their wounds. How safe David felt when he said, "Thy right hand upholdeth me." [Footnote: Ps. lxiii. 8.] He shows his confidence in God when he prays, "Hold Thou me up and I shall be safe." [Footnote: Ps. cxix. 117.] When your child wants you to hold him up he slips his little hand in yours, doesn't he? Have you ever put your weak hand into God's strong loving Hand so as to let Him do the holding up? The saints in olden times felt God's Hand in everything, over-ruling, planning, guiding, and Jesus assures us of the perfect safety and everlasting security of the believer, for He says, "No one, either man or devil, can pluck them out of My hand, nor shall any man be able to pluck them out of My Father's hand;" [Footnote: St. John x. 28, 29.] so there are two Divine Hands holding us fast. Think once more of the hands of God: not only strong hands to help and to heal, but _redeeming_ hands, mighty to save; hands that have been in the fire to pluck us out of the burning; hands that have laid hold of the enemy and have overcome him; hands that have unlocked the gates of a new life that we may enter in. Not long ago a little girl was caressing her dear old nurse, and when she caught sight of the deep scars in her hands she asked, "How did you get these scars?" The nurse looked at her very tenderly and then she said, "When you were a baby, a fire broke out one night when you were asleep in your cot. I plunged my hands into the flames and lifted you out." The child's eyes were full of tears as she looked at the dear scarred hands, the hands that had been wounded to save her. Those scarred hands remind me of another story. One day, about thirty years ago, some children were playing on a mountain in France, and their merry peals of laughter attracted the notice of a shepherd lad who was taking care of the sheep a little way off. Suddenly a wolf foaming at the mouth came in sight. He saw it run madly down the mountain towards the children. Without a moment's hesitation he rushed forward, seized the wolf, and grappled with it. After a fierce struggle he managed to bind a leather strap around its mouth, and then he killed it, but not before the wolf, which was raving mad, had bitten him severely in the hand. This occurred just at the time when Pasteur, the famous Paris doctor, had discovered a remedy for hydrophobia. Without delay the shepherd lad who had saved the lives of the children at such a cost was taken to Paris and was cured. Hundreds of patients are sent to the Pasteur Institute at Paris and when they ring the bell, the door is opened by an elderly man with a scar on his hand. He was once the shepherd lad who rescued the children from the raving wolf, and the deep scars are from its bite. Inside the hall there is a statue representing him in the terrible struggle with the wolf. Think of the wounded hands of the Son of God. Do you ask Where? How? Why? Where were they wounded? On Calvary's Cross. How? "They pierced My hands and My feet." [Footnote: Ps. xxii. 16.] This is the wonder of it, "He was wounded for our transgressions." Look at the 53rd chapter of Isaiah, and there you will see Jesus as the Suffering Substitute. Seven times in that chapter it is distinctly mentioned that all His suffering was because He was bearing our sins. Notice in verse 5 it says, "He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities." Then in verse 6, "The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all." In verse 8, "For the transgression of My people was He stricken," or the stroke was upon Him. He stood between the stroke of Divine Justice and the sinner and received the blow Himself. In verse 10, "Thou shalt make His soul an offering for sin;" verse 11, "He shall bear their iniquities;" verse 12, "He bare the sin of many." Jesus was the Suffering Substitute because He was the Sin-bearer. See how in His death He was identified with the sinner. For in verse 12 we read, "He was numbered with the transgressors." In the Gospels we are told that there were two thieves crucified with Him, on either side one and Jesus in the midst. I once saw a coloured illustration of the three crosses on Calvary. One cross was painted black, the other was white, and the middle one was red. Now if we look at those three crosses on Calvary from the Divine standpoint, it seems as if one cross which was black at first is now white. It is the cross of the penitent thief; all his sins have been transferred to the Sin-bearer, so now there is not one sin on him; he has been washed "whiter than snow." The cross of the impenitent thief is black, and remains black, for he dies with all his sins on him and goes into the blackness of darkness for ever. The middle cross is red: Jesus the Holy One has no sin in Him, but the sin of the whole world is _on_ Him, because He is the atoning sacrifice for sin. "O Christ, what burdens bowed Thy head, Our load was laid on Thee. Thou stoodest in the sinner's stead, Didst bear all ill for me. A victim led, Thy blood was shed, Now there's no load for me." In the writings of an American Evangelist we meet with this quaint illustration, "God uses bright red to get pure white out of dead black." It is just the same truth as we have seen shining out from the three crosses. There we see Jesus "in the midst," the God-appointed Sacrifice for sin, and we see the penitent thief washed whiter than snow in the precious Blood. We see Jesus again "in the midst," three days after. It is in the Upper Room at Jerusalem, on Easter Sunday. The disciples who were like scattered sheep have gathered together there once more, though still trembling with fear. "Then came Jesus and stood in the midst and said unto them, Peace be unto you." [Footnote: St. John xx. 19.] It was the first time He had spoken to them since the night when He was betrayed when they had forsaken Him and had run away. He might have met them with a reproof, but He knows all about our poor hearts, so He meets them with a smile and the sweet greeting, "Peace be unto you." And He says it to them _all_, even to Peter who had denied his Lord, and to the others who had forsaken Him. Yes, He has only one greeting for them one and all, and that is "Peace." Then a pause, and after the pause there came a revelation--"He showed them His hands and His side." Why did He show them the nail prints in His hands and the deep wound in His side? It was to reveal to them the wondrous truth that He Himself is our Peace, and that the Peace which He gives is the Peace which He has Himself made through the Blood of His Cross. [Footnote: Col. i. 20.] "Through Christ on the Cross peace was made, My debt by His death was all paid; No otter foundation is laid, For peace the gift of God's love." He showed them His hands and His side, because He wants them to understand that these sacred scars tell us of His wondrous love and of the infinite cost of Redemption. Let us lift up our hearts and say-- "Oh, make me understand it, Help me to take it in, "What it meant to Thee the Holy One To bear away my sin." We find from St. John's Gospel that Thomas, one of the twelve, was not among them when Jesus came, so the rest of the disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." He replied, "Unless I see in His hands the wound made by the nails, and put my finger into the wound, and put my hand into His side, I will never believe it." So when a week later Jesus says to Thomas, "Reach hither thy finger and behold (or feel) My hands, and reach hither thy hand and thrust it into My side," [Footnote: St. John xx. 27.] it shows how our Lord made these scars the very test of his faith, and it is the same now. In St. Luke's Gospel we read that He said, "Behold My hands and My feet." When He showed them the marks of His sufferings for them, it was as if He said, "Here is the guarantee of your pardon and peace." We cannot have peace until we have pardon; many seek peace instead of taking pardon first. When He showed them His hands, and His feet, and His side, it was as if He said, "You need cleansing from all sin; here are the marks of the cleansing Blood. You need the touch of healing power, and here is the Hand that will give it to you. You want companionship in your daily life. Here are the feet that will travel with you, you never walk alone." What wonderful tenderness and love! If ever you feel depressed or ready to doubt God's love, remember how "He showed them His hands and His side," that they might see those sacred scars. And we read in the next verse, "Then were the disciples glad when they saw the Lord." Yes, "they were filled with joy at seeing the Master." You will remember how troubled Thomas had been before this, but now the sight of the wounded hands took away all his doubts and fears. It was then that his faith rose higher than that of any of the others, for he exclaimed with adoration and worship, "My Lord, and my God!" If ever you wander away or your heart grows cold and careless, think of those words, "He showed them His hands and His side," and remember He is still the same in the glory. When the beloved Apostle John looked through the open door into heaven, he saw Him standing there in the midst of the throne with the nail prints in His hands and feet, "a Lamb as it had been slain." [Footnote: Rev. v. 6.] What a sight! "Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood Shall never lose its power, Till all the ransomed Church of God Be saved to sin no more." But _why_ did He show them the wounds in His hands and side? To make it plain that He bore all the penalty of sin. Some speak about sin as if it were only a mistake, but God says sin is guilt, and that all are guilty, for all have sinned. We have offended against God's holy law, and if any one breaks the law he brings upon himself the penalty. God says, "The soul that sinneth, it shall die;" [Footnote: Ezek. xviii. 20.] so the penalty we deserve is death, everlasting punishment. The penalty must be paid by some one. God's justice demands it. God is not willing that any should perish; He loves the sinner, though He hates the sin. Still the penalty must be paid, so He found out a way; His own dear Son must take the sinner's place and suffer the full penalty instead, the death-penalty. Perhaps you wonder, how can the death of One atone for the sin of the many? A lad once asked his father this question. The father made no reply but took him into the garden. Then he dug up a spadeful of earth with a number of worms in it, and turning to the boy he asked him, "Now which is of most value, your life or that of one worm, or even a thousand worms?" "Mine," said the boy. "Now" said the father, "you can see how the life and death of the Divine Saviour is _sufficient satisfaction to God_ for the sins of the whole world." Oh! the wonder of it all. We see God, the Holy God, the just God, the righteous God--we see man, guilty, condemned, sinful. Then we see the Son of God Who knew no sin, _made_ sin for us, [Footnote: 2 Cor. v. 21.] so that all the requirements of God's holiness and justice are fully met. It was on the Cross, in that hour of darkness and agony when He cried, "My God, My God, _why_ hast Thou forsaken Me," that He was _made_ sin for us. Now we see the meaning of the wounded Hands, the broken Heart of God. "If I were God," the cynic said, "this sinning, suffering world would break my heart." But what if God's heart _was_ broken? Do we not read in the 69th Psalm, "Reproach hath broken my heart? [Footnote: Ps. lxix. 20.]" The last night before He died He went to the garden of Gethsemane. Only three of His disciples followed Him into the place where He knelt down to pray, and even these three fell asleep. He was left alone. He says, "I looked for some to take pity, but there was none, and for comforters, but I found none." It was then the agony began which ended on the Cross in a broken heart. It was then He prayed saying, "Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from Me, and there appeared an angel unto Him from heaven, strengthening Him." [Footnote: St. Luke xxii. 42, 43.] His prayer was heard and the victory was won over the adversary, for it must be on the Cross and in no other way that the Atonement could be made. "Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us, for it is written, Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree." [Footnote: Gal. iii. 13.] "Who His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree." [Footnote: I Pet. ii. 24.] It was there on the Cross that He said, "It is finished; and He bowed His Head and died." We should not have known that He died of a broken heart if one little circumstance had not taken place. The Holy Spirit has shown us that this circumstance was foretold in the Scriptures and was all part of God's purpose in our redemption. The soldiers had orders to break the legs of those who had been crucified, so as to hasten their death, and remove their bodies without delay; but when they came to Jesus and saw that He was dead already, they brake not His legs; but one of the soldiers pierced His side, and forthwith came there out blood and water. "This was a proof that He had died of a broken heart." [Footnote: John xix. 34.] "He died of a broken heart for you, He died of a broken heart, Oh! wondrous love for you, for me, He died of a broken heart." When we remember that the pouring out of the blood followed on the breaking of the body, then we see the meaning of the precious words spoken by our Lord during the Last Supper. We read that, "He took bread, and when He had given thanks, He brake it and said, 'Take, eat; this is My Body which is broken for you.' [Footnote: I Cor. xi. 24.] And He took the cup and said, 'This is My Blood of the New Testament which is shed for many.'" [Footnote: St. Mark xiv. 24.] Why did He die? Why was His blood poured out? The Apostle Paul answers that question when He says, "God was in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself." In that one sentence we have the Message of the Cross! We see God's purpose behind it all. Two wonderful truths lie hidden in that glorious message. The first is, that "Christ _died_ to put away sin," because sin is the thing and the only thing which comes between us and God. The good news which Christ brings to us is that God Himself has taken the first step in this work of reconciliation. Oh! how wonderful it is that it is our sins which have brought out all the anguish and love of God's heart. Yes, our sins grieved Him so much He could not rest till He had devised a plan by which they could "all be blotted out," once for all. Dear friends, whenever your sins are a burden, say these words over and over in your heart, "God was in Christ reconciling me to Himself." [Footnote: 2 Cor. v. 19.] This alone would have been wonderful, but there is something more in the good news, and that is "God is beseeching you to be reconciled to Him." Have you ever grasped that truth? I remember hearing of a great lawyer who was moved to shed tears, and when a fellow-lawyer asked him why he was in trouble he replied, "I see now what I never saw before. Yes, I see that God is _beseeching_ me to be reconciled to Him. I always thought it was for me to beseech God." Many think as this lawyer did that the sinner must first come to God. No, it is God Who comes to us entreating us to return to Him. He is always sending us messages of love, and the moment we turn to Him and trust Him He gives us a full free pardon. Dear fellow-sinners, "we pray you now in Christ's stead," and because of His great love in dying for you, "Be reconciled to God." God is now willing; are you willing? Do say "Yes." Will you say it now very solemnly in your heart to God? ADDRESS VII THE WORD OF GOD PORTION OF SCRIPTURE--Psalm xix. This Psalm is full of the glory of God. It tells us first of the Glory of God shining in this beautiful world which He has made, and then it shows us the glory of God shining in the Scriptures, in this Book which lies open before us. The first verse bursts forth with the triumphant note, "The heavens declare the glory of God." Everything in earth and sky shows forth His wisdom, His power and His love. Then it gives us a wonderful picture of the sunrise and compares it to "a bridegroom coming out of his chamber." You have seen the first streaks of light in the early morning, and then you have watched the onward course of the sun till it is high up in the sky at mid-day, full of power, "rejoicing as a strong man to run a race." But Nature, with all its secrets, Nature with all its wonders and treasures, is only part of God's revelation of Himself; the other part is to be found in His Word. So the Psalmist passes from the glorious sun in the heavens to the glory shining in the Word of God. The glory we see in God's works is only an illustration of the glory shining in this Book. After giving the wonderful description of the rising sun, he goes on to point out that there is not a single spot in the whole world where the sun does not shine, and that its light and heat can be felt by everything. Then he shows us that it is just the same with the Word of God. It is God's message to every one, but it is only when it finds an entrance into man's heart that it gives light. [Footnote: Ps. cxix. 130.] If you draw down the blind the sun cannot shine into your room; so the Holy Spirit must open our hearts for the light of His Word to enter in, otherwise it will be to us the same as any other book. "Is it dark without you, darker still within? Clear the darkened windows, Open wide the door; Let the blessed sunshine in." How can we know that the Bible is the Word of God? A gentleman, who was an unbeliever, stopped one day to speak to Molly, the old woman who kept a flower stall near the station. He noticed she was reading her Bible, so he asked her why she read it. "Because it is the Word of God." "How do you know?" "Because it cheers and warms my heart. I am just as sure it is God's own Word as I am that it is the sun shining up there." This simple testimony was the means of convincing him and he thanked her for it. We have heard how the sun shines over the whole world, but is it not wonderful that every little drop of water can reflect the whole of its light? In every sunbeam there are seven colours, and when you look up at the rainbow you see all the seven in one drop of rain. This is only an illustration of the wonders of God's grace. If you are a child of God the whole of God's grace enters your heart, so you have grace to speak, grace to pray, grace to be loving and patient, grace for everything. The whole of God's life and light and love are for you as if there were no one else in the world. It is the same with all the precious truths of God's Word: they are _all_ yours. A minister who wanted to know how many promises there are in the Bible searched all through the Book and he counted nearly five thousand. Had you any idea that there are as many as five thousand precious promises for the believer in God's Word? Have you claimed them? A Christian woman who was very ill asked her daughter to read the 8th chapter of the Epistle to the Romans. When she had finished the mother said, "That's mine, it's _all_ mine." How rich she was! Only think of it and it is an _Eternal_ inheritance, for the chapter begins with "no condemnation" and ends with "no separation." If you will look at verses 7 and 8 of our Psalm, you will see four things which the Word of God does. "It converts the soul, makes wise the simple, rejoices the heart, enlightens the eyes." Let us think of these four things. First: "The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul." The law here means the whole covenant of Jehovah. You remember how, when God appeared to Abraham, that Abraham fell on his face, feeling his utter weakness and nothingness, and then God talked with him. When a man is laid low in the dust then God can talk to him. And God said to Abraham, "I will make my covenant between Me and thee." [Footnote: Gen. xvii. 2.] A covenant is a promise made under solemn conditions, and it is God's covenant of grace which converts the soul. Such a promise as we have in Ezekiel: "A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you, and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh: And I will put my Spirit within you." [Footnote: Ezek. xxxvi. 26.] God says "I will" five times in those few lines, because He wants us to understand that in giving this promise He undertakes to do in us and for us what we can never do for ourselves. This reminds me of a young woman who was troubled because, although she was longing to be saved, yet she felt her heart was so hard. One Sunday the minister took this verse as the text for his sermon. When he gave it out it seemed to her as if a voice was speaking these words close to her, right into her ear, "I will give you an heart of flesh." It came like a message direct from God. She was so deeply touched she could not listen to the sermon, and after it was over she went into the fields to find a quiet place that she might look at the words again in her Bible. She is now a very bright earnest Christian. It is through the Word that God speaks to our hearts, and when the Holy Spirit makes it a living Word and quickens us to receive it with faith, then we are converted. If you are not saved, take your Bible and read it prayerfully, and you will find in it just what you want. Remember the letter of Scripture is of no use unless we experience its power and enjoy its sweetness. A young clergyman was converted through a very strange text. He was so much depressed he thought of committing suicide, and then his eye fell on that verse in Ecclesiastes, "A living dog is better than a dead lion." [Footnote: Eccles. ix. 4.] The words brought fresh hope to him. He said to himself, One thing is certain and that is, I am still a _living_ man, and he was then led to seek Christ as the Way, the Truth and the _Life_. It is wonderful to think of the many different ways in which God sends His Word home to our hearts. Spurgeon gives an instance of this. He was asked to visit a dying man who told him about his conversion. He said, "Some years ago I was at work in the Crystal Palace. God's Spirit was striving with me and I felt the burden of sin. It seemed to follow me wherever I went. Suddenly a voice said to me distinctly, 'Behold he Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.' [Footnote: St. John i. 29.] No one was near me, and I thought the message had come straight from God. I then saw clearly that Christ had died to save me, and ever since I have had joy and peace in believing." Spurgeon listened to the dying man's testimony with deep interest, and he remembered that on that very day he had gone to the Crystal Palace to test his voice in the transept before speaking at a People's service which was to be held there, and had used that very text, "Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world." Let us thank God that His Word is _perfect_ in converting he soul. "The testimony of the Lord is _sure_, making wise the simple." It is well known that very often a man who is no scholar, but who is taught of God, is able to see deep truths which learned men fail to understand. Every time you read your Bible look up and say, "Lord, open Thou mine eyes that I may behold wondrous things out of Thy law." [Footnote: Ps. cxix. 18.] Do not feel discouraged because you do not understand t all. There are many things which earthly fathers tell their children which they do not understand till they are grown up, but still they love to get father's letters, and the Bible is our heavenly Father's letter to us. Do you value it? In the 8th verse of the 19th Psalm it says, "The statutes of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart." I have seen many careworn faces lit up with joy when reading the Word. One man especially, who had a great deal of trouble and opposition in his home life, used to give his testimony at the Meeting. Opening his Bible in the 5th chapter of the Gospel of St. John he would read the 24th verse, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth My word and believeth on Him that sent Me hath everlasting life and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death unto life." Then he would tell us with a beaming face that it was his song of assurance, for, as he said, there are three links, "He that _heareth_, _believeth_, _hath_--and 'hath' means 'got it,' and I've got everlasting life. Jesus says it and I know it's true." He is now in the glory, and maybe he is telling the angels about it. If we had no Bible we should have no certainty that our sins are forgiven. A little girl named Molly said to her aunt who was teaching her about Jesus, "How can I be sure that my sins are forgiven?" "Because God says so," [Footnote: i John i. 9.] was the reply, and then she repeated the text, "If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Many say, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins," and yet they still carry about the burden of their sins. They see clearly how God can forgive sin, but they cannot realise that it is their own sins which are forgiven. This was the case with Luther. He tells us how, when he was distressed because of his sins, a friend pointed out to him that he would not have real peace unless he claimed God's forgiveness for his _own _sins. It was like a new light flashing into his soul; he saw his mistake and looking up with a beaming face, he said, "I see it now--it is not other people's sins, it is _my_ sins which are all forgiven!" We must not estimate sin and forgiveness by our own standard. When we have given way to sin again and again we feel ashamed to ask God's forgiveness so often but the wonder of it all is that God meets this very feeling of shame with the words, "My thoughts are not your thoughts"; and then He adds, "For I will abundantly pardon," [Footnote: 2 Isa. lv. 7, 8.] which means, I will repeatedly pardon. God's thoughts of sin and His thoughts about forgiveness are far higher than ours. Sometimes I feel quite overwhelmed when I think of how great His forgiving love has been to me. Look again at our Psalm, verse 7, "The testimony of the Lord is _sure_, making wise the simple." The word Testimony means an assurance or a promise from God to the individual soul, and David had such confidence in God he is quite sure He will not disappoint him or fail to keep His word. So he says, "The testimony, or promise, of God is _sure_." It is this certainty which makes David so happy. He seems to be overflowing with joy, for he says, "Thy testimonies also are my delight and my counsellors," [Footnote: Ps. cxix. 24.] and again, "I love Thy testimonies." "Thy testimonies are wonderful, therefore doth my soul keep them. Thy testimonies that Thou hast commanded are righteous and very faithful." [Footnote: Ps. cxix. 119, 129, 138.] The word "Testimony" means also what God has commanded us to believe and also to practise. A native convert in China said the other day, "I began by reading the Bible, but now I am _behaving_ it." This is what David means when he says, "My soul hath kept Thy testimonies, and I love them exceedingly." [Footnote: Ps. cxix. 167.] The question was once asked at a meeting, "Can you point to any text in the Word of God which makes you sure you are saved and safe?" "I can," said one of the company, in a quiet firm voice. "It is John iii. 36, He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life." We have many bed-rock texts and that is one, as the beautiful old hymn says-- "How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord, Is laid for your faith in His excellent Word." I was summoned late one evening to see a dying man who had been brought to Christ through my Bible Class. When I entered his room he looked up and said with a smile, "I sent for you because I want to tell you that I am quite safe, quite sure and quite satisfied. I am quite safe because Jesus died for me. I am quite sure because I have His Word for it. I am quite satisfied because I am going to be with Him in the glory." The Word of God was written that we _might_ believe; to believe is to know, and to be quite certain. The word "believe" comes from an old root meaning "to live by." "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." [Footnote: St. Matt. iv. 4.] Put your finger down on one of the many precious assurances which God has given us in His Word, of the certainty of complete forgiveness and acceptance, and then look up into His face with loving gratitude. God's pardon and acceptance are absolute and eternal; nothing can ever alter them. God wants us to know it and to live in the joy of it. Trusting His Word gives us safety, certainty and enjoyment. If any sin comes into your mind and troubles you, dear child of God, do not carry it about with you, tell Father about it at once; confess it to Him and remember that you are under the cleansing Blood. "The Blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanseth us from all sin." [Footnote: 1 John i. 7.] It has not only cleansed us once for all, but it is cleansing us now at the present moment. It is important to remember that the whole purpose of the Bible is to give glory to God. It is the Everlasting Word of the Everlasting God. "The word of our God shall stand for ever." [Footnote: Isa. xl. 8.] Make the word of God _everything_. Receive its statements by faith as revelations of simple certainties. Find out how happy you are. "Happy is that people that is in such a case, yea, happy is that people whose God is Lord." [Footnote: Ps. cxliv. 15.] If we are walking with God in our daily life we need a light to show us the way. David knew well what it was to go along rough roads on dark nights, so he says, "Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path." [Footnote: Ps. cxix. 105.] Did you ever hear about Moody's torch? One night Moody had to return home through a dark wood after one of his meetings, and the path was winding and rough, so a friend offered him a torch. Moody declined taking it, saying, "Thank you, but it is too small." "It will light you home," said the man. "But the wind may blow it out." "It will light you home." "But if it should rain?" "It will light you home." At last Moody started, taking the torch with him, and he said afterwards, "In spite of all my fears, it gave abundant light on my path all the way home." Every promise in the Word of God is like Moody's torch, and if we will take it and use it, we shall find as he did, that it will light us all the way to our Eternal Home. The Bible is the Book of light placed by our Master in the hand of faith that we may see clearly how to walk and to please God and how to deal wisely and kindly with those around us. It contains plain directions about everything in our daily life. The Bible is a Revelation of God Himself. It is a direct communication from Him to us. There are four things made known to us in the Word which are of priceless value-- 1. It proclaims a full, free salvation through faith in Christ. "To you is the Message of this Salvation sent." 2. It opens out to you the riches of grace and invites you to take them freely--freely--freely. 3. It opens "the door of faith" wide to the weakest sinner and even to you. 4. It gives a new life within, which transforms the soul and makes us new creatures in Christ Jesus. Our Lord says, "The words that I speak unto you, they are spirit and they are life." [Footnote: St. John vi, 63.] Can you say, "Thy Word hath quickened me"? [Footnote: Ps. cxix. 50.] Do not be satisfied with reading a chapter here and there. Read straight through. Why? Because the Bible has a beginning and an ending like any other book. It begins with the story of a friendship between God and man: we see man very happy in this friendship. Then something happens; you will find it in the third chapter of Genesis. Some one has come in between them and the friendship is broken. Still God is looking for His friend and calling him, "Where are you?" The answer comes from under the shadow of the trees. "I heard Thy voice and I was afraid and hid myself." Now we come to the last words at the end of the Book, and we hear the same Voice saying, "I am coming back again very soon." It is the Voice of the same Friend, no longer sad but glad. "The darkness has all passed away and the true Light is shining," [Footnote: I John ii. 8.] and will shine for ever: yes, it is sunshine all around, everlasting sunshine. Where is the Bible? Do you keep your Bible where you can take it up whenever you have a few spare moments? Is it ready at hand so that you can read it before you go to bed at night? Do the children speak of it as "Mother's book"? Do you turn to it for strength and comfort? Is it a _living_ book to you? One of the most solemn things which God says to His rebellious people in olden times is that "they were casting His Words behind their backs." We are doing the same thing if the Bible is laid aside on the shelf, or put into the front room and allowed to remain unopened week after week. There can be no blessing in your home and in your life while you neglect the Word of God. It is this very word of God which will judge you at the last day. Listen to Christ's solemn warning: "He that rejecteth Me and receiveth not My words hath one that judgeth him," which means you will not be left without a Judge. It is not a matter of small importance whether you read the Bible or not: it is a matter of life or death. A neglected Bible shows you are living without God; a neglected Bible shows you are living for this world only; a neglected Bible shows that your soul is dying of starvation; a neglected Bible means that though you may _think_ you can get on very well without it, Jesus _says_, "The Word that I have spoken the same will judge him in the last day." [Footnote: St. John xii. 48.] The Bible is God's Message to this present generation. Sometimes people want to lay it on one side as an old book which is out of date. It is the most up-to-date book in the world. It not only tells us of what is going on at the present moment, but about what will happen in the future. We see pictures in the daily papers of what people were doing yesterday and what they looked like, but in the Bible we have portraits true to life not only of what we are outwardly, but of the thoughts of our hearts. "The Word of God is quick and powerful and sharper than any two-edged sword: it can discern the secret thoughts and purposes of the heart." [Footnote: Heb. iv. 12.] We hear a great deal about the X-rays which show what is going on inside the body, but this is nothing compared to the Word of God which penetrates deep down into our inmost feelings and brings them to light. It is better to be searched and cleansed now, than to go on in the old way and then to stand before the great White Throne by and by, condemned to everlasting punishment. Let us pray with David, "Search me, O God, and know my heart, try me and know my thoughts and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way Everlasting. Amen." [Footnote: Ps. cxxxix, 23, 24.] ADDRESS VIII HAVE FAITH IN GOD PORTION OF SCRIPTURE--Romans iv. There is one man set before us in this chapter as the man who had faith in God. The one thing which marks him more than any other is his faith. The man lived nearly 4,000 years ago, and yet he is still a vivid personality; he lives on in our thoughts and memories as the man who trusted God. His name is still reverenced all over the world, even among people of different religions, as "The Friend of God." "The God of Glory appeared to Abraham," and from that moment Abraham's faith fastens on what God is. The attractive power of Jehovah drew him from his home, his relations and his country, and with every fresh revelation of God, Abraham's faith grasped more of God and clung to Him with a firmer hold. God's word was all he had to go by; whatever God said was enough for him; whatever God told him to do, he did it, because, to _trust God_ means to obey Him. He had God with him at every step. If ever there was a clear-sighted man, that man was Abraham, for trust in God enlightens our understanding. He was a man with a far sight. He saw what no other man then living saw. He saw that the day was coming when God would send His Son to be the Saviour of the world. How do we know this? Because Christ said, "Abraham rejoiced to see My day, and he saw it and was glad." [Footnote: St. John viii. 56.] He saw far on into the future, farther than any other man then living. He saw the golden City, the holy City, "whose builder and maker is God." [Footnote: Heb, xi. 10.] Yes, the eye of faith not only sees God, it sees also what "God has prepared for those who love Him." God was very real to that man. Abraham trusted God because he knew Him personally. Faith is the act of the soul which looks wholly away from _self_, whether it be righteous self or sinful self, and looks to God only, in complete submission and confidence. It was because Abraham trusted Him that God stamped the man as His friend--Abraham My friend. On and on through all these hundreds of years he has been called "the Friend of God." In the book of Chronicles, in Isaiah and in the Epistle of James it is mentioned again, "He was called the Friend of God." What is friendship? It is two hearts trusting in each other. Abraham trusted God, and God trusted Abraham. God put such confidence in him that He let him know that He was going to destroy the cities of the plain. The LORD said, "Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do?" [Footnote: Gen. xviii. 17.] Mutual trust is at the root of all friendship. Where there is a lack of mutual confidence in the home life or in commercial life it spells ruin. The great question for each one in life is, What is my relation to God? Is it trusting God, or is it doubting God? "Abraham believed God and it was counted unto him for righteousness." [Footnote: Rom. iv. 3.] What is righteousness? It means to be right with God, and the moment we trust God's Word we are made righteous, and we become righteous. We read in Acts that after their first missionary tour. Paul and Barnabas reported in detail all that God had done, and how He had opened the door of faith unto the Gentiles. [Footnote: Acts xiv. 27.] So faith is the gate of life by which the Gentiles were entering in. Here was a new fact proving that faith was the gate of the Lord into which the righteous should enter; [Footnote: Ps. cxviii. 20.] righteous _because_ believing. Faith is the door by which God comes into our hearts. Faith is only the door, nothing in itself, but it is called "precious faith" because of all the life and joy and riches of grace and glory which it lets in. Abraham is not only presented to us in the Word of God as the Friend of God, but also as a pattern for all believers, and we are told to take him as our model, "to walk in his steps," to trust God and to find in God's wondrous friendship all that he found. God has been teaching us ever since, through the simplicity of the faith of this man. The most remarkable point in his faith is this, he grasped as no one else had done that God is God because He can quicken the dead. [Footnote: Rom. iv. 17.] He can give life to the dead because He Himself is the Source of life. He calls "those things which are not as though they were" because He is the Creator of all things. This applies not only to the body but to the soul. Your confidence in God began when your soul, which was "dead in sin," was quickened into a new life. When we ourselves have experienced this quickening it gives us such faith in praying for those we love, knowing that God alone can quicken dead souls. Abraham was "strong in faith"; even when God promised him a son, although it seemed impossible, "he staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief," being "fully persuaded" that God was able to do it. To be "strong in faith" is to feel our utter helplessness and to rely on God's power only; to be "strong in faith" is to grasp God's promise and not to let anything make us doubt it. We have an illustration of this strong faith in the case of the first missionary who went out to China a hundred years ago. The captain of the ship in which he sailed was an atheist, and one day he said to him with a sneer, "You don't suppose, do you, that you are going to convert those Chinese?" "No," said the missionary, "but I believe _God_ is going to do it." Did God fail him? No. His faith was rewarded, and at the present time there are a quarter of a million Chinese believers who meet in fellowship at the Lord's Table. What is faith? It is the link between me and God. The link between my emptiness and God's fulness. The link between me, the sinner and Jesus, the Saviour. Is there this link between you and God? Is the link on? Faith is the spiritual link, the one and only means by which a man can have dealings with God, realise God and walk with God. It is a living link between God and the soul, a living union. The word "faith" comes from an old word which means to _bind_. When I say "I _believe_ God," it means that "I am His and He is mine for ever and for ever." It is trusting in His love, not a mere cold belief in His power. It is grasping His promises, because they are precious promises. It is the whole heart and mind going out and up to God. David says: "Unto Thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul; O my God, I trust in Thee," [Footnote: Ps. xxv, 1, 2, 5] This brings perfect rest. "Thou art the God of my salvation, on Thee do I wait all the day." Do we make it a habit to be constantly referring to God about everything? We learn first, that _God_ is, and then our faith feeds upon _what_ God is. His faithfulness and His lovingkindness are seen in all His dealings with us. Faith has to do with unseen realities, for faith is the evidence, or proof of things not seen; [Footnote: Heb. xi. 1.] it makes them as real as if we could see them, and brings them near. So we may say faith is like the telegraph wire which connects two places however far apart they may be. We had an illustration of this not long ago. Our Queen Mary was in her sitting-room in Buckingham Palace. A hospital was to be opened in Canada 4,000 miles off, and she was asked to perform the ceremony. When the signal was given that all was ready, the Queen pressed a little ivory button and in two seconds the door of the hospital, which was held by an electric wire, opened, and in fifteen seconds the signal was flashed back that the hospital was open. So in about half a minute the signal went there and back over a space of 8,000 miles. How wonderful! and yet greater spiritual wonders are happening every day and many times in the day, if only we have faith in God and let Him work in us and through us. I will give you another illustration how the simple touch of faith links us with God's power. A few years ago some rocks blocked the entrance into the river St. Lawrence, so that the ships could not go up the river to Quebec. It was decided that the mass of solid rock must be removed. How was it done? In the presence of a large crowd a little child stepped forward and touched an electric button and the whole mass of rock was blown up by dynamite and the passage cleared. Faith has done great wonders in times past, and it can still do wonders, if only we make use of God's Almighty power. But the rule is, "According to your faith so be it unto you." I will give you an illustration. When I want light in my room I touch the electric button and the room is filled with light. The moment I press the button I expect the light will come, and I am surprised if it fails. Why? Touching the electric button is like the touch of faith; it brings us into contact with the source of light. Faith brings me into contact with God Himself, for He is the source of life and light. God has ordained that faith shall be a power as real and as uniform in its working as light or heat or electricity. Everything about them is a mystery which we do not fully understand, but all the same they are real to us and we use them. Although we do not understand them, yet we prove again and again that they supply us with new life and energy simply by a touch. Even a child can touch. Faith places all God's fulness at our disposal, but it is only according to our faith that we receive it. I know a poor woman who went through a time of great anxiety about her little girl who was ill. One day a Christian friend called to see her and she told her all about her trouble. When she had finished the friend said to her very tenderly, "You have forgotten one little word of five letters." "What is it? Do tell me," she exclaimed, looking puzzled. Then the friend, pointing on her five fingers, said slowly, _f-a-i-t-h_. The dark cloud cleared away and she was able to look up into God's face again and to trust Him. So when Christ says, "Have faith in God," it is a command to hold fast to God. It means trust God about everything, great and small; nothing is too small. Trust Him to save you, and to keep you. Trust Him in every difficulty and in every duty. "Little faith will bring your souls to heaven, but great faith will bring heaven to your souls." When Christ said to Peter and the others, "Have faith in God," He said it very earnestly and with a ring of deep conviction in His voice. He knew in Himself what dependence on God means in the earthly life. Day by day He showed what it is to have simple trust in God. When He said, "Have faith in God," He said it very solemnly, because He was speaking on behalf of His Father. He had come to reveal Him, so He says, "I do nothing of Myself, but as My Father hath taught Me I speak these things." He had already said, "He that believeth on Me hath everlasting life," and now He adds, "Have faith in God." Yes, He claims our confidence, our full confidence, not a half-hearted trust. Our Lord saw men seeking other objects of trust, so He says, "Take hold of God, hold fast to God, have faith in God and never let it go." The world's great need is faith in God. God's own character demands it. The Scriptures make Him known and reveal Him as altogether trustworthy, such an One as invites our entire confidence. To have faith in God means leaning on Him, letting Him bear the whole weight. There is a great difference between believing and committing. Many say they believe, but they are not willing to commit themselves to Him. A few years ago there was a man named Blondin who performed wonderful feats at the Crystal Palace. Once he walked on a tight rope stretched across the centre of the Palace at a height of 150 feet. Another time a rope was stretched at a great height over a shipbuilder's yard, and he not only walked steadily across, but he carried a man on his back. A large crowd gazed at him in wonder and awe, and great was their relief when both Blondin and his burden reached the ground in safety. Among the eager upturned faces in the crowd there was a lad about eleven years of age. When Blondin came down he went up to the lad and said to him, "You saw me carry that big man across, do you believe I could take you?" "Of course you could," replied the boy; "why, he was a big man, and I am only a little chap." "Well, then, jump up, my lad," said Blondin, and he stooped down for the boy to climb up on his back. But although the boy said he believed Blondin was able to carry him across, he was not willing to trust himself, and so, just saying, "No, thank you," he was off like a shot and ran as fast as he could till he was lost in the crowd. Though he said he believed, when it came to the point he did not commit himself, and that is all the difference, between believing _in_ Christ and believing _on_ Him. Faith in God means really committing ourselves into His hands and rolling our burdens on Him. If we withhold our confidence it shows that we do not really believe that God is what the Bible says He is. The reason there is so much unrest and ungodliness is because we have lost sight of God. It is not because the Bible is out of date as some say, or that the Gospel has lost its power; it is still as ever, "the power of God unto salvation," but we are limiting God. It is just the same now as in olden times when the children of Israel limited the Holy One of Israel, and we read how this lack of confidence grieved God all through those forty years in the wilderness. Yea, they spake against God, they said, "Can God furnish a table in the wilderness; can God give bread also; can He provide flesh for His people?" [Footnote: Ps. lxxviii. 19, 20.] Unbelief asks, "_Can He?_" Faith says, "_He can._" Dear friends, let me ask you to stop and ask yourself, Where do you put that little word "can"? Are you constantly thinking to yourself, Can God? or are you saying in your heart and meaning it too, "_God can_"! We limit God's power to save, by asking, _Can_ God? The hindrance is the same as in olden times when Jeremiah felt that because of the unbelief of the people "the Lord was as a mighty man that cannot save." [Footnote: Jer. xiv; 9.] You have prayed many years perhaps for the conversion of some one near and dear to you, but are you limiting God because you doubt His power to do it? A poor man who gave way to drink said sadly, "I have broken the pledge again and again"; then pointing to his pledge card he said, "But now I have written a text on it, Isaiah xli. 13: 'For I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not, I will help thee.'" Then looking up he said simply, "Maybe, Him and me will do it together." Is it victory over temptation you long for? Look up to Him and say, "I can't, but God can." Is it grace you need for some special trial? Say, "God is able to make all grace abound towards me, for He tells us in His Word that He is able to do 'exceeding abundantly above all we ask or think according to the power that is working in us.'" [Footnote: Eph. iii. 20.] The world's great sin is not trusting God. "Thus said the LORD, Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm and whose heart departeth from the Lord." [Footnote: Jer. xvii. 5.] Yet in times of difficulty or danger how apt we are to lean on the arm of flesh. During the present European war I was much impressed by the words of one of our soldiers who writes from the front: "After all that is being done there still remains one supreme necessity without which neither arms or munitions can be decisive, namely, the spiritual outlook of the whole nation. When I returned home after ten months in Flanders, I was amazed at the lack of spirituality of the people as a whole. The simple faith and dependence upon God which characterised our country in her past struggles seem lost to sight. 'They trusted in Thee and Thou didst deliver them' implied no disregard for military efficiency; it was the real and vital accompaniment to armed force. Can it be that the hellishness of battle, the wearing down of the spirit induced by trench warfare, moments of utter loneliness which every soldier has to bear, strike right at the soul and enable him to realise the nearness of the spiritual world? 'Prayer is the foundation of all grace' were the words of a dying soldier who had deliberately returned to the area of poisonous gas and had brought back the machine gun on his shoulders. Some of us have realised what individual prayer at home has done for us, but we should all like to feel that the whole nation is also testing the value of spiritual power." We read in God's Word that "The children of Judah prevailed, because they relied upon the Lord God"; [Footnote: 2 Chron. xiii. 18.] and when King Asa was defeated the prophet said to him, "Because thou hast relied on the King of Syria, and not relied on the Lord thy God, therefore is the host of the King of Syria escaped out of thine hand." [Footnote: 2 Chron. xvi. 7.] To have faith in God we must put God first in everything. He must be first when we awake in the morning. How blessed it is to be able to feel, "When I awake I am still with Thee." A working man said to me once, "I make myself happy in God the first thing in the morning." David says, "In the morning will I direct my prayer unto Thee and will look up." [Footnote: Ps. v. 3.] "When I awake I am still with Thee." [Footnote: Ps. cxxxix. 18.] "In my morning prayer," said a Christian man, "instead of thinking of my own needs first, I like to think of the fulness there is in Christ for me." Let us resolve to put "God _first_," even if we have only time for one text of Scripture. "God _first_," even if it is only a minute or two for prayer. A Christian said once, "I must see the face of God before I see the face of man." The manna was gathered early every morning. Another said, "Unless I meet with God first, I cannot meet the difficulties of the day in a prepared spirit." If you put "God first," you will find this will make all the difference as to how you do your work and how you deal with others. "Little is much if God is in it." To have faith in God is to trust Him _only_. David says, "My soul, wait thou only upon God, for my expectation is from Him." [Footnote: Ps. lxii. 5.] Is it so with you? If so, what for, and for how much? First find out from His Word that God is able and willing to do what you need; then trust Him to do it. "Trust in Him at all times" it says again in that beautiful Psalm. [Footnote: Ps. lxii. 8.] "I have been looking into my Bible," said a working man, "and I find a great many men trusted God, and whatever they trusted God for, they always got it; He never failed them, and it is the same now." You have all heard of Florence Nightingale and her life of devotion in nursing the sick. She was asked to tell the secret of her earnest Christian life, and after a pause she said, "I have kept nothing back from God." Faith in God is unreserved confidence, telling Him all and keeping nothing back. But before we can do this as a daily habit we must definitely commit ourselves and all we have into God's hands. It says in Isaiah xliv. 5, "One shall say, I am the Lord's." I have a mark in my Bible which I made many years ago by the side of these words. I put the date and then I wrote these words: "He gave Himself for me and I give myself to Him. He takes me and I take Him." Ever since then it has been my delight to tell others how simple it all is. It is the sinner taking the Saviour and the Saviour taking the sinner. Are you asking, What must I do? First believe what God says about you in His Word. He says, that you are guilty, lost, ruined. Then He presents Christ to us as the Saviour and calls on us to believe what He says about Him. "He that believeth not God hath made him a liar because he hath not believed the record that God gave of His Son. And this is the record that God hath given to us eternal life and this life is in His Son." [Footnote: I John v. 10, 11.] "Have faith in God." Faith cometh by hearing and hearing by the Word of God, and "faith is the gift of God." And the wonder of it all is that God says to the weak ones like poor Jacob, "I have chosen thee and not cast thee away," and He never will, for "_God keeps all His failures_," not like man who throws his failures on one side as worthless. Oh! to trust Him then more fully, Just to simply trust. Then instead of "limiting the Holy One of Israel" we shall be singing at the top of our voices, "The LORD hath done great things for us whereof we are glad." [Footnote: Ps. cxxvi. 3.] So then let us "trust in the Lord for ever, for in the Lord Jehovah is Everlasting Strength." [Footnote: Isa. xxvi. 4.] ADDRESS IX THE CHURCH OF GOD PORTION OF SCRIPTURE--Ephesians v. 22-33. "Christ also loved the Church and gave Himself for it." [Footnote: Eph. v. 25.] Two precious truths shine out in these words. He _loved_, He _gave_. He not only gave Himself for the Church when He died on the Cross, but He is still sanctifying and cleansing it, and by and by when He comes again "He will present it unto Himself a glorious Church." [Footnote: Eph. v. 27.] So we have the history of the Church in the past, in the present, and in the future. We look back to the past and we see Christ giving Himself, that is, laying down His life on the Cross; but we must also look far, far back into the past Eternity to find out another precious truth. (Perhaps you have never thought about it.) It is, that the Church was in God's thoughts from the very beginning! The Son of God was in the bosom of the Father "in the beginning"; and it was then--before the world was created, that God chose us in Him and gave us to Him. [Footnote: Eph. i. 4.] Now we see why "Christ loved the Church and gave Himself for it." What is the Church? The word "Church" means "called out," so the Church embraces all who have been "called out" during the present age to form the "Body of Christ." In the Old Testament we find that the Jews were God's chosen people, [Footnote: Exod. vi. 7.] so they had all the privileges, but in later times, the Jews rejected the Gospel of the grace of God, and then God graciously visited the Gentiles to take out of them a people to be called by His Name. [Footnote: Acts xv. 14.] When did this special "_calling out_" begin? Nearly 1900 years ago on the Day of Pentecost, and it has been going on ever since, and when the number of "the called-out ones" has been completed, then "The Lord Himself shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air." [Footnote: I Thess. iv. 16, 17.] Each of those three words, "_chosen_," "_called out_," and "_caught up_," leads us on to something more. We were chosen in Him to be holy; [Footnote: Eph. i. 4.] we are called out to be the Body of Christ now, and by and by we shall be caught up to meet the Bridegroom and to be with Him for ever. If you are a child of God, you can say with holy wonder, "God has done all this for me." The Church was formed out of a little company of 120 men and women who were gathered together praying in the Upper Room at Jerusalem. [Footnote: Acts i. 14, 15.] Suddenly they heard a wonderful sound and saw a heavenly vision, and they were all filled with the Holy Ghost; and before the day was over that little company increased to the number of 3,000 souls. How many does it number now? No one knows, but it is a "multitude which no man can number." [Footnote: Rev. vii. 9.] Some are already in glory, some are still on earth, but it matters not where they are, they belong to the "whole family" of God "in heaven and in earth." [Footnote: Eph. iii. 15.] On the Day of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit was poured out, His special work was to create a new thing--it was then that the Church of God was formed into one Body by the Holy Spirit, "For, as the body is one and hath many members, and all the members of that one body, being many, are one body, so also is Christ." [Footnote: I Cor. xii. 12, 27.] "Now ye are the Body of Christ and members in particular," that is, individually, for every saved soul is a member. The Church is a living body united to Jesus Christ, for He is the living Head of the Body. He needs His Church just as much as His Church needs Him. It is the Holy Spirit who unites us to the risen and glorified Christ Who is the Head, and then He unites us to one another in Him. It is a _living_ union, because we pass through death into the resurrection life of Christ, for by "One Spirit we are all baptized into One Body, and we have all been made to drink into that One Spirit." [Footnote: I Cor. xii. 13.] The Holy Ghost sustains the life of the Church. In Him we live and move and have our being. As the bird lives in the air, as the flower lives in the sunshine, so we live in the Spirit, and when we drink in His fulness there is growth and fruitfulness. Have we ever felt this need of drinking into that One Spirit? Everything connected with the true Church of Christ must be spiritual, it is this which is being lost sight of in the present day, and it is the reason why there is so little power and so few conversions. Have you ever tried to understand why the Church is called "the Body of Christ"? Think first about your own body. It is the only part of your real self that can be seen. I cannot see your heart or your thoughts, but I know what your thoughts are by your words, and what you feel by the look of joy or sorrow in your face, and by the way you go about. It is by your body that your real personality is made known to others; what you really are would never be seen unless your body made it known. In the same way the Church is the Body in order to make Christ known in the world. He is hidden from our view, He is unseen, but He manifests Himself and shines out through us, and He sends us to carry His messages and to do His Will. This was the earnest desire of the Apostle Paul when he said that he was willing that the old self should be taken away so that "the _life_ also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body." [Footnote: 2 Cor. iv. 10, 11.] This is what the Church is here on earth for, to make the unseen Christ known. Just as every drop of water reflects the light, so every member of the Church, however weak and small, can reflect His love. Is His compassion for sinners beaming in your eye? Is His purity seen in your daily life? Do you judge things from His standpoint? I remember when some one was telling me why she loved a Christian worker whom we both knew, she added, "I love her for what I see of Christ in her." Think of Christ exalted in Heaven far above all things, and remember He is there not for Himself, but for _you_. "He is Head over all things to His Body, the Church." [Footnote: Eph. i. 22, 23.] It is wonderful to think of this union with Christ, that we are His Body and He is the Head; but there is another wonder quite as great, it is that He is the Bridegroom and the Church is the Bride. When we speak of the Church as the Body of Christ, it is a living union, _life_ is the one thought brought out; when we speak of Christ as the Bridegroom it is _love_ which is the chief point. It brings out the affection, tenderness and nearness of the Bridegroom. "So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies, He that loveth His wife loveth Himself." [Footnote: Eph. v. 28-30.] We have nothing so wonderful in the Old Testament. Think of the depths out of which we have come, and the heights to which we are raised. "He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill to set them among princes and to make them inherit the throne of glory." [Footnote: 1 Sam. ii. 8.] Think of the sinner lifted out of all his bondage and ruin to be the Bride of the Lamb! There is nothing higher that God can give than this. This will be our glorious position by and by when the Bridegroom comes to take us to our Heavenly Home, for His parting words were, "I will come again and receive you unto Myself." [Footnote: St. John xiv. 3.] There will be three great surprises on the day that He comes again. These surprises have been kept secret, but on that day the glorious secrets will all be made known. The first surprise will be when we shall see all the saints who have died in Christ called back from the unseen world and clothed with their new, glorified bodies. What a joyful meeting it will be. The next surprise will be that we who are still living on earth when Christ comes will be changed, we shall not die, we shall escape from the hand of death. "It is appointed unto men once to die," but "Christ was once offered to bear the sin of many," [Footnote: Heb. ix. 27, 28.] and when He comes the saints who are living will be changed "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye." [Footnote: 1 Cor. xv. 52.] You know how long it takes for you to shut your eye and open it--it will not take longer than that for the change to be made. Three great changes will take place--our _bodies_ will be changed, no more sin, or pain, or weariness; our _minds_ will be changed. "We shall _know_" then what we cannot know now, we shall see all as God sees it, we shall know the love of Christ and we shall love Him as He deserves to be loved, and best of all "we shall be like Him for we shall see Him as He is." The third surprise will be that our _circumstances_ will also be changed; we shall be no longer on the earth, for as soon as the great change takes place we shall be caught up to meet the Lord in the air. He will then look into our life work, and He will say to His faithful ones who have been true-hearted and loyal: "Well done, good and faithful servant." [Footnote: St. Matt. xxv. 21.] Then the heavens will resound with the Hallelujah chorus, "Let us be glad and rejoice and give honour to Him, for the marriage of the Lamb is come and His wife hath made herself ready." [Footnote: Rev. xix. 7.] But the glory will be only then beginning, it will be "_glory upon glory_." Remember there are two stages in Christ's Coming; He will come _for_ His saints, and then He will come down to earth _with_ His saints. As it is written: "Behold, the Lord cometh with ten thousands of His saints." [Footnote: Jude 14.] "When Christ, who is our Life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with Him in glory." [Footnote: Col. iii. 4.] We shall come _with_ Him when He comes to reign on the earth. But there is something still grander than the glorious position of having a place with Him on His throne. We look on and on into the Eternity that is coming (and it is a wonderful outlook) and what do we find? It is that we are wanted for the ages to come to show forth, and to be living personal illustrations "of the riches of God's grace." It is not only that we shall be saved and glorified, but that God will use us personally to show forth all His love. The grace of God is the love which flowed down to us in our great need, when we were dead in sins, slaves to sin and Satan and deserving nothing but God's wrath. It is we ourselves who are wanted for the ages to come for "the praise of His glory." The expression "_the riches_ of God's grace" [Footnote: Eph. i. 7.] meets our personal need, but there is something else that will shine forth, it is called "_the glory_ of God's grace." [Footnote: Eph. i. 6.] All that God prepares for us is worthy of His greatness and power. The inheritance which He has in store and the beautiful Home above will be worthy of God Himself, all that is in it and around it surpassing everything that we can imagine in its glory and beauty will be worthy of God Himself. It is only as our eyes are spiritually enlightened that we can get a glimpse of "the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints." [Footnote: Eph. i. 18.] The words of this old hymn describe what it will be like-- "I go on my way rejoicing, Though weary the wilderness road-- I go on my way rejoicing In hope of the glory of God. "Then no more in the earthen vessel The treasure of God shall be, But in full and unclouded beauty, O Lord, wilt Thou shine through me. "All, all in Thy new creation The glory of God shall see; And the lamp for that light eternal The Bride of the Lamb shall be. "A golden lamp in the heavens, That all may see and adore The Lamb who was slain and who liveth, Who liveth for evermore. "So I go on my way rejoicing That the heavens and earth shall see His grace, and His glory and beauty, In the depth of His love to me." Our mission throughout eternity is to make known the love and wisdom of God that He may not only be all, but in all. He is in us now, but we want Him to be in all, and it will be through us that God will let the whole universe be so filled with the glorious knowledge of His love and wisdom that these words will at last be fulfilled--"God ... all and in all." [Footnote: I Cor. xv. 28.] We are passing through wars and convulsions and revolutions hitherto unknown, but a glorious future is awaiting us, and one thing is certain, that nothing can "separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." [Footnote: Rom. viii. 39.] That is our security. It is also certain that it is not in the power of the devil to destroy the Church of God, for we are wanted in the ages to come. It is the Church which is to be the glory of Christ to all Eternity. We are also wanted _now_ in a very special way. Men's hearts are failing them for fear, they need strong, calm, prayerful helpers in this time of perplexity. Who can speak a word of cheer and encouragement? Who can point them to the Rock of Ages which cannot be moved? Who can inspire them with faith and hope? Only the one who has himself made God his Refuge. It is in times of trouble that the worldly man turns for help and sympathy to the believer. It is through us that God would work out His purpose of grace and love to the world. A young man who had met with a bitter disappointment went to an aged Christian and poured out his trouble. After hearing his sad story, his friend said in a calm, tender voice, "God knows all about it, there is no such thing as chance in the world." "What is there then?" asked the young man eagerly. "There is _love_, Eternal _love_," was the answer. The reason why the believer is kept in perfect peace is because he looks beyond all the tumult of battle, the bitter strife and terrible bloodshed to the time when God will gather together all things in Christ, for He is to be Head over all. LOVE, ETERNAL LOVE. Never for a moment shall that love cease to bless us and shield us. Whatever may happen to our bodies nothing can touch the eternal life within. Do you feel anxious to know whether you will have a share in the glory? I will tell you how you may know. You remember Christian had a roll given him by Evangelist which he was to give in at the Celestial Gate. When you first come to Jesus as a poor sinner the Holy Spirit gives you four precious words written as it were in a roll for you to hide in your heart until the moment when Jesus comes and you are caught up to meet Him in the air. Take your Bible and you will find there four precious words which God has written for you to rest upon, and which will never fail you. 1. REDEEMED. [Footnote: Pet. i. 18, 19] "Bought with a price," and the price was the life-blood of God's dear Son, so we belong to the Church of Christ which He has "purchased with His own blood." [Footnote: Acts xx. 28] 2. SEALED. [Footnote: Eph. i. 13] The Seal is God's mark upon us showing to men and angels and devils that we are His "purchased possession"; that we belong to Him, spirit, soul and body absolutely, and for ever, for God's solid foundation stands unmoved, bearing this inscription, "The Lord knoweth them that are His." [Footnote: 2 Tim. ii. 19] A Christian doctor who had been in the Crimean War and in China, was very particular when going on a journey to have all his luggage "_labelled and ready_." In his last illness he turned to a friend and said with a smile, "_I am labelled and ready_"! and then he gave this beautiful testimony: "There is only one thing that makes me quite ready and quite sure of Heaven, it is that my sins are forgiven by trusting in the Blood of Jesus. Nothing that we can do can save us, it is what He did. He alone can give us peace with God." 3. KEPT. [Footnote: 1 Pet. i. 5] A young Christian told a friend that he was afraid as to whether he would be able to live the life. The friend looked at him, and said, with a ringing voice of assurance, "He is able to keep you from falling." [Footnote: Jude 24] He then saw that he was no longer in his own keeping, but in _God's_ keeping, and that the keeping would be up to the last moment, and be so complete that he would be handed over without the smallest defect to stand in "the presence of His glory with exceeding joy." 4. GLORIFIED. [Footnote: Rom. viii. 30] This is the last and grandest of the four precious words which God has given to strengthen our hearts, and it is the crown of all. What shall we say? No words can express what it will be, it will surpass our highest expectations. But we know that it will be fulness of life, fulness of joy, fulness of love, and all our deepest longings satisfied, all our highest hopes fulfilled, and it will be for ever and for ever! Let us hold fast God's sure word of promise, "The Lord will give grace and glory." [Footnote: Ps. lxxxiv. 11] Let us lift up our hearts in praise and thanksgiving to Him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, UNTO HIM IS THE GLORY IN THE CHURCH, THROUGHOUT ALL AGES, TO ALL ETERNITY, WORLD WITHOUT END. AMEN. [Footnote: Eph. iii. 20, 21] ADDRESS X THE KINGDOM OF GOD PORTION OF SCRIPTURE--St. Matthew xxi. 1-17, and Revelation xi. 15-18. Now, therefore, why speak ye not a word of bringing the King back? [Footnote: 2 Sam. xix. 10] This question was asked a long time ago. You remember how David was driven from his throne. His son Absalom rebelled against him and he had to leave the country; but Absalom is now dead, the rebellion is at an end, and still David is an exile. At last some of the people talk it over together and inquire of one another, "Why say ye not a word, or why are ye silent about bringing back the King?" So they sent word to the King and Judah went to meet him. I was reminded of this Old Testament story when a correspondent wrote in the spring of this year as follows: "I have spent two days in what is left of Belgium, and I find that the dream of the Belgians is to see the King ride back into Brussels. Men and women, old and young, talk and plan and have visions of the time when the King comes Home." It is touching to think how these people, in spite of all their misfortunes, still love their brave King and cling to the hope of having him once more among them in his rightful place on the throne and then their ruined towns and homes will be restored. It makes me think of another King, our Lord Jesus, who entered the City of Jerusalem amidst the cheers and acclamations of a large crowd, and how the words came true: "Tell ye the daughter of Sion, Behold thy King cometh unto thee." [Footnote: St. Matt. xxi. 5] And now they cry, "Hosanna"--He is come, He is come! and the children's voices ring out with praise. But this proclaiming Him as King aroused the enmity of some of the rulers and they stirred up the people against Him. Here was the opportunity, the golden opportunity, for accepting or rejecting the Son of God. They had listened to His teaching, they brought their sick to Him for healing, they appreciated the benefits of His ministry, but they refused to submit to His authority, so they were determined to silence His Voice. Sin shows itself in the rebellion of the _will_ against God, and so they lost the opportunity, and instead of accepting Him, they crucified their King. The words are still true: "Behold, thy King cometh," He comes to set up the Kingdom of God in our hearts, so the opportunity is given to you now to accept Him as your King. We listen to the good news about peace and forgiveness, but are we willing to make Jesus King in our hearts? Here is the great test, it is here that the opposition of man's _will_ begins to show itself, because if He is to be our Lord and Master He claims all we are and all we have. He must be Lord of _all_ or He is not Lord at all; nothing less will do. There is no real union with Him by faith until we say in our hearts, "My Lord, and my God." [Footnote: St. John xx. 28.] It is impossible to accept Christ as our Saviour without also yielding to Him as King, and proclaiming Him as King. A young friend of mine has these three simple words, "Make Jesus King," in a frame hanging on the wall of her room. She told me they were the means of leading her to decide for Christ. Nothing but the power of the Holy Spirit can enable us to yield to Him as our Lord and Master. "No man can say that Jesus is the Lord but by the Holy Ghost." [Footnote: 1 Cor. xii. 3.] This is the central fact--"JESUS IS LORD." "For to this end Christ both died, and rose, and revived, that He might be Lord both of the dead and living." [Footnote: Rom. xiv. 9] It is the Holy Spirit who first reveals Christ to your heart and enables you to say, "Thou art my Lord," [Footnote: Ps. xvi. 2] and then He gives you grace to love and obey Him as your Master. So, whether you look backward to the moment when your sins were all blotted out, "_He is Lord_"; or whether you look at your present life with all its shortcomings, "_He is Lord_"; or whether you look forward to the end, waiting for His Coming, _He is Lord_. "Can you say truly-- "He cleansed my heart from all its sin, What a wonderful Saviour! And now He reigns and rules within, What a wonderful Saviour!" We have seen our Lord proclaimed King at Jerusalem and accepting the title. Although rejected and crucified, His every word and action was kingly up to the last moment of His earthly life. He spoke openly of His Kingdom to Pilate, for when Pilate asked Him, "Art Thou a King then?" [Footnote: St. John xviii. 37] He answered, "I am." The purple robe, the crown of thorns, the sceptre, though offered in mockery, were all kingly, for the superscription over the Cross, THIS IS JESUS, THE KING OF THE JEWS, [Footnote: St. Matt. xxvii. 37] was true. The Cross was the way to the Throne. "I beheld, and lo in the midst of the Throne stood a Lamb, as it had been slain." [Footnote: Rev. v. 6] In that dark, dark hour of Christ's agony on the Cross, there was only one man who recognised Christ as King, and that was the dying thief. It was a very real cry that broke from his lips in his utter need--"Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy Kingdom." [Footnote: St. Luke xxiii. 42] It was wonderful faith. Can you think of any other as wonderful? He recognised Christ as King--not a dying King leaving His throne--but a victorious King about to enter His Kingdom. The penitent thief saw even more than this, he saw that it was a Kingdom of souls rescued from sin's bondage and slavery; not a Kingdom of the great ones of earth, but for outcasts such as he was, so he cried, "Take me as I am and give me a place in the Kingdom." But the answer to the cry was as wonderful as the cry itself--"To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise." When the King said "With Me," He meant, "I am passing from darkness into Everlasting Light. Come with Me. I have broken the chains of sin, I am setting the prisoners free. Come with Me." From that moment the penitent thief was identified with Christ in His death and in His Risen Life. Is this true of you? When earth rejected the King, not only was Heaven opened to receive Him, but a triumphant reception awaited Him. Heaven resounded with the joyful chorus of the angelic hosts--"Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in"! [Footnote: Ps. xxiv. 7.] So for nineteen hundred years the heavens have received Him, but once again the everlasting doors will open, and the Son of Man will come in "the clouds of heaven with power and great glory." [Footnote: St. Matt. xxiv. 30.] What has been going on during all these years? Kingdoms and world powers have risen up one after another, but all have failed to give what the world really needs, "A King to reign in righteousness." [Footnote: Isa. xxxii. 1.] God is still saying, "Why do the heathen rage and the people imagine a vain thing?" [Footnote: Ps. ii. 1.] But in spite of man's rebellion and forgetfulness of God, God's purpose will stand firm, "Yet have I set My King upon My holy hill of Zion." [Footnote: Ps. ii. 6.] God's purpose is to have all power placed in the hands of One Man, and that is Christ. What will be the final winding up of Earth's suffering and struggles? The veil will be drawn aside and "The Glory of the LORD will be revealed." [Footnote: Isa. xl. 5.] It is the glory of the Personal Presence of the Son of God. When? Where? How? will the glory be seen. Look back into the Garden of Eden. God gave man control over all, but he listened to another voice and then he lost control. The question was raised, "Who was to rule, Satan or God?" By and by another veil will be drawn aside and we shall see how the unseen powers of darkness have been at work behind all the wars and sin and rebellion of this poor world. "An enemy hath done this." [Footnote: St. Matt. xiii. 28.] It is the devil who blinds the eyes, hardens the hearts, and deadens the conscience of mankind. But we must not lose heart or think that Satan is getting the upper hand. The Word of God enables us not only to trace some of his plots and schemes, but it shows us _why_ God has been so long silent and _when_ God intends to break that silence. [Footnote: See Ps. 1] The victory is sure, but whose victory? The Victory of the Son of God. But first the Jews must return to their own land, and then "the kings of the earth and of the whole world" will be gathered to the battle of the great Day of God Almighty. All these nations will fight against the Jews at Jerusalem in the place called Armageddon. It is really a desperate attempt of the devil who is sending forth these nations to make war with the Lamb. Jerusalem will be taken, and when the enemy is rejoicing over the victory and the destruction of the Jews seems certain, then suddenly they see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory, [Footnote: St. Matt. xxiv. 30] "the armies" which are "in Heaven" following Him. [Footnote: Rev. xix. 14] Then shall the Lord go forth and fight against those nations, and His feet shall stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, [Footnote: Zech. xiv. 3, 4] and "every eye shall see Him." [Footnote: Rev. i. 7] The armies of the enemy will be destroyed and God's people will be delivered. In this marvellous way the Lamb shall overcome, for "He is Lord of lords and King of kings and they that are with Him are called, and chosen, and faithful." [Footnote: Rev. xvii. 14] It will not only be the deliverance of the Jews from their enemies, but the wonder of that great day will be that at last their eyes will be opened to see Him as the Messiah, so they will be converted and restored. The Lord says, "I will pour upon them the spirit of grace and of supplication and they shall look upon Me whom they have pierced." [Footnote: Zech. xii. 10.] What an overwhelming sight! The same Jesus whom they despised and rejected is come down from heaven to deliver them, but they only think of Him as the One whom they have pierced. The glory which meets their eye at that moment is the glory of the love and compassion of the Crucified One. The result of looking is mourning. They get such a view of their sin against His love that they are filled with godly sorrow. When the eye of faith is turned to Jesus then the tears flow. Oh, how perfectly will all Satan's evil influence in man's heart be destroyed in the presence of Jesus. "In that Day we have seen what has taken place at the beginning of that day, and now before it closes a fountain will be opened to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin and for uncleanness." [Footnote: Zech. xiii. 1.] With the opening of that fountain there is grace given to _use_ it, for God says, "I will pour upon them the spirit of grace." Many see the fountain now who never use it! Precious fountain, of all things most precious to poor sinners such as you and me. No one but God's dear Son, and nothing but His atoning death on Calvary, could open that fountain. The fountain is still flowing--has it cleansed you? Then the Kingdom of God is set up on earth. Who can tell the good news so well as these restored and converted ones? The question is sometimes asked, Has the Gospel lost its power? Is Christianity a failure? No. The Gospel will yet be preached throughout the whole world. Who will be the preachers? Converted Jews, [Footnote: Isa. lxi. 6] "a mighty angel, [Footnote: Rev. xiv. 6] and glorified saints, for they shall be priests of God." [Footnote: Rev. xx. 6] What will be the result of their preaching? There will be a world-wide revival. "The earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea." [Footnote: Hab. ii. 14] When Christ comes to us now, it is to rule in the hearts of His people, but _then_ He will reign over a believing world without opposition, for Satan will be bound and Christ will take the Kingdom which is His by redemption, and His glory will be seen on Mount Zion. "Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God hath shined." [Footnote: Ps. 1. 2] And the seventh angel sounded and there were great voices in heaven saying: "The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ and He shall reign for ever and ever." [Footnote: Rev. xi. 15] After reigning on earth for a thousand years there will be the Judgment of "the Great White Throne," [Footnote: Rev. xx. 11-15] when all those who had no part in the first resurrection will be raised, and all whose names are not "written in the Book of Life" will be "cast into the lake of fire." "This is the second death." Has your name been entered in the Book of Life? One more glorious Vision of the Kingdom is unfolded before us, and the glory grows brighter and brighter, for it is "THE EVERLASTING KINGDOM." "I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away and there was no more sea.... And He that sat upon the throne said, Behold I make all things new...." [Footnote: Rev. xxi. 1, 5] "And there shall be no more curse: but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and His servants shall serve Him; and they shall see His face and His name shall be in their foreheads. "And there shall be no night there: and they need no candle, neither light of the sun, for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever." [Footnote: Rev. xxii. 3-5] How wonderful that God should promise us an abundant entrance into His Everlasting Kingdom. [Footnote: 2 Pet. i. 11] What does an abundant entrance mean? It means that we shall not, as it were, just creep into heaven by a side door, but that we shall have a grand welcome from the glorified ones there and from the Lord Himself, all the doors, as it were, being thrown wide open to receive us. Are we preparing for it? A mother who was dying called her little daughter who was ten years old to her bedside and said tenderly, "I want you to learn this little prayer, 'O God, prepare me for all Thou art preparing for me.'" And the prayer was answered, for that little girl was Frances Ridley Havergal, who lived a consecrated life, and passed away singing about the Lord whom she loved. I must give you some words spoken by that holy man Samuel Rutherford who was persecuted and put into prison for Christ's sake. "I wonder many times," he said, "that ever a child of God should have a sad heart considering what the Lord is preparing for him. When we get Home above and enter into possession of our Brother's fair Kingdom, it will be like one step from prison to glory." These words came true, for soon after this he received notice to appear before his judges in court, but before the day of the trial came he died. So it was literally one step for him from prison to glory. His own account of it is given in the following lines---- "They've summoned me before them, Thither I may not come; My King says, Come up hither, My Lord says, Welcome Home." What will it all be like? No words of ours can describe it, but God Himself tells us what He will be to us and what He will do for us in the Eternal Kingdom. "And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be with them, and be their God." [Footnote: Rev. xxi. 3-4] "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away." The Crown of it all is that "God Himself shall be with them and be their God." [Footnote: 1 Cor. xv. 28] All creatures will say, "God is everything to me," for GOD will be "All in All."' We have traced out some of the wonderful truths which God has revealed to us about Himself. "This is Life Eternal that they might know Thee, the only True God and Jesus Christ, whom Thou hast sent." [Footnote: St. John xvii. 3] Apart from God, all is death and ruin for ever; to _know_ God, to _trust_ God, to _love_ God is Eternal Life. The great question is, What is God to me? Can you say--"O GOD, THOU ART MY GOD"? 
44411	----	Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. * * * * * [Illustration: Cover] [Illustration: titlepage] _The World's Great Sermons_ VOLUME IV L. BEECHER TO BUSHNELL THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS COMPILED BY GRENVILLE KLEISER Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in Public," Etc. With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other Theologians INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D. Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University IN TEN VOLUMES VOLUME IV L. BEECHER TO BUSHNELL FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY NEW YORK and LONDON COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY _Printed in the United States of America_ CONTENTS VOLUME IV LYMAN BEECHER (1775-1863). _Page_ The Government of God Desirable 1 CHANNING (1780-1842). The Character of Christ 27 CHALMERS (1780-1847). The Expulsive Power of a New Affection 53 ALEXANDER CAMPBELL (1788-1866). The Missionary Cause 79 IRVING (1792-1834). Preparation for Consulting the Oracles of God 101 ARNOLD (1795-1842). Alive in God 131 WAYLAND (1796-1865). A Day in the Life of Jesus of Nazareth 145 VINET (1797-1847). The Mysteries of Christianity 171 SUMMERFIELD (1798-1825). The Heavenly Inheritance 189 NEWMAN (1801-1890). God's Will the End of Life 207 BUSHNELL (1802-1876). Unconscious Influence 233 LYMAN BEECHER THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD DESIRABLE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE LYMAN BEECHER was born in New Haven, Conn., in 1775. He graduated from Yale in 1797, and in 1798 took charge of the Presbyterian Church at Easthampton, Long Island. He first attracted attention by his sermon on the death of Alexander Hamilton, and in 1810 became pastor of the Congregational Church at Litchfield, Conn. In the course of a pastorate of 16 years, he preached a remarkable series of sermons on temperance and became recognized as one of the foremost pulpit orators of the country. In 1826 he went to Boston as pastor of the Hanover Street Congregational Church. Six years later he became president of the Lane Theological Seminary in Ohio, an office he retained for twenty years. In 1852 he returned to Boston and subsequently retired to the house of his son, Henry Ward Beecher, where he died in 1863. His public utterances, whether platform or pulpit, were carefully elaborated. They were delivered extemporaneously and sparkled with wit, were convincing by their logic, and conciliating by their shrewd common sense. LYMAN BEECHER 1775-1863 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD DESIRABLE _Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven_.--Matthew vi., 10. In this passage we are instructed to pray that the world may be governed, and not abandoned to the miseries of unrestrained sin; that God Himself would govern, and not another; and that God would administer the government of the world, in all respects, according to His own pleasure. The passage is a formal surrender to God of power and dominion over the earth, as entire as His dominion is in His heaven. The petition, therefore, "Thy will be done," contains the doctrine: That it is greatly to be desired that God should govern the world, and dispose of men, in all respects, entirely according to His own pleasure. The truth of this doctrine is so manifest, that it would seem to rank itself in the number of self-evident propositions, incapable of proof clearer than its own light, had not experience taught that, of all truths, it is the most universally and bitterly controverted. Plain as it is, it has occasioned more argument than any other doctrine, and, by argument merely, has gained fewer proselytes; for it is one of those controversies in which the heart decides wholly, and argument, strong or feeble, is alike ineffectual. This consideration would present, on the threshold, a hopeless impediment to further progress, did we not know, also, that arguments a thousand times repeated, and as often resisted, may at length become mighty through God, to the casting down of imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God. I shall, therefore, suggest several considerations, to confirm this most obvious truth, that it is desirable that God should govern the world entirely according to His own good pleasure. 1. It is desirable that God should govern the world, and dispose of all events, according to His pleasure, because He knows perfectly in what manner it is best that the world should be governed. The best way of disposing of men and their concerns is that which will effectually illustrate the glory of God. The glory of God is His benevolence, and His natural attributes for the manifestation of it, and sun of the moral universe, the light and life of His kingdom. All the blessedness of the intelligent creation arises, and ever will arise, from the manifestation and apprehension of the glory of God. It was to manifest this glory that the worlds were created. It was that there might be creatures to behold and enjoy God, that His dominions were peopled with intelligent beings. And it is that His holy subjects may see and enjoy Him, that He upholds and governs the universe. The entire importance of our world, therefore, and of men and their concerns, is relative, and is great or small only as we are made to illustrate the glory of God. How this important end shall be most effectually accomplished none but Himself is able to determine. He, only, knows how so to order things as that the existence of every being, and every event, shall answer the purpose of its creation, and from the rolling of a world to the fall of a sparrow shall conspire to increase the exhibitions of the divine character, and expand the joy of the holy universe. An inferior intelligence at the helm of government might conceive very desirable purposes of benevolence, and still be at a loss as to the means most fit and effectual to accomplish them. But, with God, there is no such deficiency. In Him, the knowledge which discovered the end discovers also, with unerring wisdom, the most appropriate means to bring it to pass. He is wise in heart; He hath established the world by His wisdom and stretched out the heavens by His discretion. And is He not wise enough to be intrusted with the government of the world? Who, then, shall be His counsellor? Who shall supply the deficiencies of His skill? Oh, the presumption of vain man! and, oh! the depths both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! 2. It is desirable that God should govern the world according to His own pleasure, because He is entirely able to execute His purposes. A wise politician perceives, often, both the end and the means; and is still unable to bring to pass his counsels, because the means, though wise, are beyond his control. But God is as able to execute as He is to plan. Having chosen the end, and selected the means, his counsels stand. He is the Lord God omnipotent. The whole universe is a storehouse of means; and when He speaks every intelligence and every atom flies to execute His pleasure. The omnipotence of God, in giving efficacy to His government, inspires and perpetuates the ecstasy of heaven. "And a voice came out from the throne, saying, Praise our God. And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of many thunderings, saying Alleluia, the Lord God omnipotent reigneth." What will that man do in heaven, who is afraid and reluctant to commit to God the government of the earth? And what will become of those who, unable to frustrate His counsels, murmur and rebel against His providence? 3. It is desirable that God should govern the world according to His pleasure, because the pleasure of God is always good. The angels who kept not their first estate, and many wicked men, have great knowledge, and skill, and power: and yet, on these accounts, are only the more terrible; because they employ these mighty faculties to do evil. And the government of God, were He a being of malevolence, armed as He is with skill and power, would justly fill the universe with dismay. But, as it is, brethren, "let not your hearts be troubled." With God there is no perversion of attributes. He is as good as He is wise and powerful. God is love! Love is that glory of God which He has undertaken to express to His intelligent creation in His works. The sole object of the government of God, from beginning to end, is, to express His benevolence. His eternal decrees, of which so many are afraid, are nothing but the plan which God has devised to express His benevolence, and to make His kingdom as vast and as blest as His own infinite goodness desires. It was to show His glory--to express, in action, His benevolence--that He created all the worlds that roll, and rejoice, and speak His name, through the regions of space. It is to accomplish the same blest design, that He upholds, and places under law, every intelligent being, and directs every event, causing every movement, in every world, to fall in, in its appointed time and place, and to unite in promoting the grand result--the glory of God, and the highest good of His kingdom. And is there a mortal, who, from this great system of blest government, would wish this earth to be an exception? What sort of beings must those be who are afraid of a government administered by infinite benevolence, to express, so far as it can be expressed, the infinite goodness of God? I repeat the question,--What kind of characters must those be who feel as if they had good reason to fear a government the sole object of which is to express the immeasurable goodness of God? 4. It is greatly to be desired that God should govern the world according to His pleasure, because it is His pleasure to rule as a moral governor. A moral government is a government exercised over free agents, accountable beings; a government of laws, administered by motives. The importance of such a government below is manifest from the consideration, that it is in His moral government, chiefly, that the glory of God is displayed. The superintendence of an empty world, or a world of mere animals, would not exhibit, at all, the moral character of God. The glory of God, shining in His law, could never be made manifest, and the brighter glory of God, as displayed in the gospel, must remain forever hid; and all that happiness of which we are capable, as moral beings, the joys of religion below, and the boundless joys of heaven above, would be extinguished, in a moment, by the suspension of the divine moral government. Will any pretend that the Almighty cannot maintain a moral government on earth, if He governs according to His own pleasure? Can He wield the elements, and control, at His pleasure, every work of His hands, but just the mind of man? Is the most noble work of God--that which is the most worthy of attention, and in reference to which all beside is upheld and governed--itself wholly unmanageable? Has Omnipotence formed minds, which, the moment they are made, escape from His hands, and defy the control of their Maker? Has the Almighty erected a moral kingdom which He cannot govern without destroying its moral nature? Can He only watch, and mend, and rectify, the lawless wanderings of mind? Has He filled the earth with untamed and untamable spirits, whose wickedness and rebellion He can merely mitigate, but cannot control? Does He superintend a world of madmen, full of darkness and disorder, cheered and blest by no internal pervading government of His own? Are we bound to submit to all events, as parts of the holy providence of God; and yet, is there actually no hand of God controlling the movements of the moral world? But if the Almighty can, and if he does, govern the earth as a part of His moral kingdom, is there any method of government more safe and wise than that which pleases God? Can there be a better government? We may safely pray, then, "Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven," without fearing at all the loss of moral agency; for all the glory of God, in His Law and Gospel, and all the eternal manifestations of glory to principalities and powers in heavenly places, depend wholly upon the fact, that men, though living under the government of God, and controlled according to His pleasure, are still entirely free, and accountable for all the deeds done in the body. There could be no justice in punishment and no condescension, no wisdom, no mercy, in the glorious gospel, did not the government of God, though administered according to His pleasure, include and insure the accountable agency of man. Seeing, therefore, that all the glory of God, which He ever proposes to manifest to the intelligent creation, is to be made known by the Church, and is to shine in the face of Jesus Christ, and is to depend upon the perfect consistency of the moral government of God with human freedom, we have boundless assurance that, among His absolute, immutable, eternal purposes, one, and a leading one, is, so to govern the world according to His counsels, that, if men sin, there shall be complete desert of punishment, and boundless mercy in their redemption. 5. It is greatly to be desired that God should rule in the earth according to His pleasure, because it is His pleasure to govern the world in mercy, by Jesus Christ. The government is in the hand of a Mediator, by whom God is reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their trespasses to them that believe. Mercy is the bestowment of pardon upon the sinful and undeserving. Now, mankind are so eminently sinful, that no government but one administered in infinite mercy, could afford the least consolation. Had any being but the God of mercy sat upon the throne, or any will but His will prevailed, there would have been no plan of redemption, and no purposes of election, to perplex and alarm the wicked. There would have been but one decree, and that would have been, destruction to the whole race of man. Are any reluctant to be entirely in the hands of God? Are they afraid to trust Him to dispose of soul and body, for time and eternity? Let them surrender their mercies, then, and go out naked from that government which feeds, protects and comforts them. Let them give up their Bibles, and relinquish the means of grace, and the hopes of glory, and descend and make their bed in hell, where they have long since deserved to be, and where they long since would have been, if God had not governed the world according to His own good pleasure. If they would escape the evils which they fear from the hand of God, let them abandon the blessings they receive from it, and they will soon discover whether the absolute dominion of God, and their dependence upon Him, be, in reality, a ground of murmuring and alarm. Our only hope of heaven arises from being entirely in the hands of God. Our destruction could not be made more certain than it would be were we to be given up to our own disposal, or to the disposal of any being but God. Would sinful mortals change their own hearts? Could the combined universe, without God, change the depraved affections of men? Surely, then, we have cause for unceasing joy, that we are in the hands of God; seeing He is a God of mercy, and has decreed to rule in mercy, and actually is administering the government of the world in mercy, by Jesus Christ. We have nothing to fear, from the entire dominion of God, which we should not have cause equally to fear, as outcasts from the divine government; but we have everything to hope, while He rules the earth according to His most merciful pleasure. The Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice, let the multitude of the isles be glad. It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. 6. It is greatly to be desired that God should dispose of mankind according to His pleasure, because, if He does so, it is certain that there will be no injustice done to anyone. He will do no injustice to His holy kingdom by any whom He saves. He will bring none to heaven who are not holy, and prepared for heaven. He will bring none there in any way not consistent with His perfections, and the best good of His kingdom; none in any way but that prescribed in the gospel, the way of faith in Jesus Christ, of repentance for sin, and of good works as the constituted fruit and evidence of faith. Earthly monarchs have their favorites, whom, if guilty of a violation of the laws, they will often interpose to save, although the welfare of the kingdom requires their punishment. But God has no such favorites--He is no respecter of persons: He spared not the angels: and upon the earth distinctions of intellect, or wealth, or honor, will have no effect; he only that believeth shall be saved. The great and the learned shall not be obtruded upon heaven without holiness because they are great or learned; and the humble and contrite shall not be excluded because they are poor, or ignorant, or obscure. God has provided a way for all men to return to Him. He has opened the door of their prison, and set open before them a door of admission into the kingdom of His dear Son; and commanded and entreated them to abandon their dreary abode, and come into the glorious liberty of the sons of God. But all, with one consent, refuse to comply. Each prefers his own loathsome dwelling to the building of God, and chooses, stedfastly, the darkness of his own dungeon, to the light of God's kingdom. But, as God has determined that the redemption of His Son shall not be unavailing through human obstinacy, so He hath chosen, in Christ, multitudes which no man can number, that they should be holy and without blame before Him in love. And in bringing these sons and daughters to glory, through sanctification of the Spirit, and belief of the truth, He will introduce not one whom all the inhabitants of heaven will not hail joyfully, as the companion of their glory. And if God does in the earth just as He pleases, He will make willing, and obedient, and bring to heaven, just those persons who it was most desirable should come. And He will bring just as many obstinate rebels to abandon their prison, and enter cheerfully His kingdom, as infinite wisdom, goodness, and mercy, see fit and desire. He will not mar His glory, or the happiness of His kingdom, by bringing in too many, nor by omitting to bring in enough. His redeemed kingdom, as to the number and the persons who compose it, and the happiness included in it, will be such as shall be wholly satisfactory to God, and to every subject of His kingdom. And if God governs according to His pleasure, He will do no injustice to His impenitent enemies. He will send to misery no harmless animals without souls--no mere machines--none who have done, or even attempted to do, as well as they could. He will leave to walk in their own way none who do not deserve to be left; and punish none for walking in it who did not walk therein knowingly, deliberately and with wilful obstinacy. He will give up to death none who did not choose death, and choose it with as entire freedom as Himself chooses holiness; and who did not deserve eternal punishment as truly as Himself deserves eternal praise. He will send to hell none who are not opposed to Him, and to holiness, and to heaven; none who are not, by voluntary sin and rebellion, unfitted for heaven, and fitted for destruction, as eminently as saints are prepared for glory. He will consign to perdition no poor, feeble, inoffensive beings, sacrificing one innocent creature to increase the happiness of another. He will cause the punishment of the wicked to illustrate His glory, and thus indirectly to promote the happiness of heaven. But God will not illumine heaven with His glory, and fill it with praise, by sacrificing helpless, unoffending creatures to eternal torment; nor will He doom to hell one whom He will not convince also, that he deserves to go thither. The justice of God, in the condemnation of the impenitent, will be as unquestionable, as His infinite mercy will be in the salvation of the redeemed. If the will of God is done on earth, among men, there will be no more injustice done to the inhabitants of the earth than there is done to the blessed in heaven. Was it ever known--did any ever complain--was it ever conceived--that God was a tyrant, in heaven? Why, then, should we question the justice of His government on earth? Is He not the same God below as above? Are not all His attributes equally employed? Does He not govern for the same end, and will not His government below conspire to promote the same joyful end as His government above? 7. It is greatly to be desired that God should govern the world according to His pleasure, because His own infinite blessedness, as well as the happiness of His kingdom, depends upon His working all things according to the counsel of His own will. Could the Almighty be prevented from expressing the benevolence of His nature, according to His purposes, His present boundless blessedness would become the pain of ungratified desire. God is love, and His happiness consists in the exercise and expression of it, according to His own eternal purpose, which He purposed in Christ Jesus before the world began. It is therefore declared, "The Lord hath made all things for himself;" that is, to express and gratify His infinite benevolence. The moral excellence of God does not consist in quiescent love, but in love active, bursting forth, and abounding. Nor does the divine happiness arise from the contemplation of idle perfections, but from perfections which comprehend boundless capacity, and activity in doing good. From what has been said, we may be led to contemplate with satisfaction the infinite blessedness of God. God is love! This is a disposition which, beyond all others, is happy in its own nature. He is perfect in love; there is, therefore, in His happiness no alloy. His love is infinite; and, of course, His blessedness is unbounded. If the little holiness existing in good men, though balanced by remaining sin, occasions, at times, unutterable joy, how blessed must God be, who is perfectly and infinitely holy! It is to be remembered, also, that the benevolence of God is at all times perfectly gratified. The universe which God has created and upholds, including what He has done, and what He will yet do, will be brought into a condition which will satisfy His infinite benevolence. The great plan of government which God has chosen, and which His power and wisdom will execute, will embrace as much good as in the nature of things is possible. He is not, like erring man, straitened and perplexed, through lack of knowledge or power. There is in His plan no defect, and in His execution no failure. God, therefore, is infinitely happy in His holiness, and in the expression of it which it pleases Him to make. The revolt of angels, the fall of man, and the miseries of sin, do not, for a moment, interrupt the blessedness of God. They were not, to Him, unexpected events, starting up suddenly while the watchman of Israel slumbered. They were foreseen by God as clearly as any other events of His government, and have occasioned neither perplexity nor dismay. With infinite complacency He beholds still His unshaken counsels, and with almighty hand rolls on His undisturbed decrees. Surrounded by unnumbered millions, created by His hand, and upheld by His power, He shines forth, God over all, blest for ever. What an object of joyful contemplation, then, is the blessedness of God! It is infinite; His boundless capacity is full. It is eternal; He is God blest forever. The happiness of the created universe is but a drop--a drop to the mighty ocean of divine enjoyment. How delightful the thought, that in God there is such an immensity of joy, beyond the reach of vicissitude! When we look around below, a melancholy sensation pervades the mind. What miserable creatures! What a wretched world! But when, from this scene of darkness and misery, we look up to the throne of God, and behold Him, high above the darkness and miseries of sin, dwelling in light inaccessible and full of glory, the prospect brightens. If a few rebels, who refuse to love and participate in His munificence, are groping in darkness on His footstool, God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all. Those who are opposed to the decrees of God, and to His sovereignty, as displayed in the salvation of sinners, are enemies of God. They are unwilling that His will should be done in earth as it is in heaven; for the decrees of God are nothing but His choice as to the manner in which He will govern His own kingdom. He did not enter upon His government to learn wisdom by experience. Before they were yet formed, His vast dominion lay open to His view; and before He took the reins of created empire, He saw in what manner it became Him to govern. His ways are everlasting. Known unto God are all His works from the beginning. To be opposed to the decrees of God, therefore, is to be unwilling that God should have any choice concerning the government of the world. And can those be willing that God should govern the world entirely according to His pleasure who object to His having any pleasure upon the subject? To object to the choice of God, with respect to the management of the world, because it is eternal, is to object to the existence of God. A God of eternal knowledge, without an eternal will or choice, would be a God without moral character. To suppose that God did not know what events would exist in His kingdom, is to divest Him of omniscience. To suppose that He did know, and did not care,--had no choice, no purpose,--is to blot out His benevolence, to nullify His wisdom and convert His power into infinite indolence. To suppose that He did know, and choose, and decree, and that events do not accord with His purposes, is to suppose that God has made a world which He can not govern; has undertaken a work too vast; has begun to build, but is not able to finish. But to suppose that God did, from the beginning, behold all things open and naked before Him, and that He did choose, with unerring wisdom and infinite goodness, how to govern His empire,--and yet at the same time, to employ heart, and head, and tongue, in continual opposition to this great and blessed truth,--is, most clearly, to cherish enmity to God and His government. To object to the choice of God because it is immutable, is to cavil against that which constitutes its consummating excellence. Caprice is a most alarming feature in a bad government; but in a government absolutely perfect, none, surely, can object to its immutability, but those, who, if able, would alter it for the worse. To say that, if God always knew how to govern so as to display His glory, and bless His kingdom, and always chooses thus to govern, there can be, therefore, no accountable agency in the conduct of His creatures, is to deny the possibility of a moral government, to contradict the express testimony of God; and this, too, at the expense of common sense, and the actual experience of every subject of His moral government on earth. From the character of God, and the nature of His government, as explained in this discourse, may be inferred, the nature and necessity of unconditional submission to God. Unconditional submission is an entire surrender of the soul to God, to be disposed of according to His pleasure,--occasioned by confidence in His character as God. There are many who would trust the Almighty to regulate the rolling of worlds, and to rule in the armies of heaven, just as He pleases; and devils they would consign to His disposal, without the least hesitation; and their own nation, if they were sure that God would dispose of it according to their pleasure; even their own temporal concerns they would risk in the hands of God, could they know that all things would work together for their good; their souls, also, they would cheerfully trust to His disposal, for the world to come, if God would stipulate, at all events, to make them happy. And to what does all this amount? Truly, that they care much about their own happiness, and their own will, but nothing at all about the will of God, and the welfare of His kingdom. He may decree, and execute His decrees, in heaven, and may turn its inhabitants into machines, or uphold their freedom, as He pleases; and apostate spirits are relinquished to their doom, whether just or unjust. It is only when the government of God descends to particulars, and draws near and enters their own selfish enclosures, and claims a right to dispose of them, and extends its influence to the unseen world, that selfishness and fear take the alarm. Has God determined how to dispose of my soul? Ah! that alters the case. If He can, consistently with freedom, govern angels, and devils, and nations, how can He govern individuals? How can He dispose of me according to His eternal purpose and I be free? Here reason, all-penetrating, and all-comprehensive, becomes weak; the clouds begin to collect, and the understanding, veiled by the darkness of the heart, can "find no end, in wandering mazes lost." But if God has purposes of mercy in reserve for the sinner, he is convinced, at length, of his sin, and finds himself in an evil case. He reforms, prays, weeps, resolves, and re-resolves, regardless of the righteousness of Christ, and intent only to establish a righteousness of his own. But, through all his windings, sin cleaves to him, and the law, with its fearful curse, pursues him. Whither shall he flee? What shall he do? A rebel heart, that will not bow, fills him with despair. An angry God, who will not clear the guilty, fills him with terror. His strength is gone, his resources fail, his mouth is stopped. With restless anxiety, or wild amazement, he surveys the gloomy prospect. At length, amidst the wanderings of despair, the character of God meets his eye. It is new, it is amiable, and full of glory. Forgetful of danger, he turns aside to behold this great sight; and while he gazes, new affections awake in his soul, inspiring new confidence in God, and in His holy government. Now God appears qualified to govern, and now he is willing that He should govern, and willing himself to be in the hands of God, to be disposed of according to His pleasure. What is the occasion of this change? Has the divine character changed? There is no variableness with God. Did he, then, misapprehend the divine character? Was all this glory visible before? Or has a revelation of new truth been granted? There has been no new revelation. The character now admitted is the same which just before appeared so gloomy and terrible. What, then, has produced this alteration? Has a vision of angels appeared, to announce that God is reconciled? Has some sudden light burst upon him, in token of forgiveness? Has Christ been seen upon the cross, beckoning the sinner to come to Him? Has heaven been thrown open to his admiring eyes? Have enrapturing sounds of music stolen upon the ear, to entrance the soul? Has some text of Scripture been sent to whisper that his sins are forgiven, tho no repentance, nor faith, nor love, has dawned in his soul? And does he now submit, because God has given him assurance of personal safety? None of these. Considerations of personal safety are, at the time, out of the question. It is the uncreated, essential excellence of God, shining in upon the heart, which claims the attention, fixes the adoring eye, and fills the soul with love, and peace, and joy; and the act of submission is past, before the subject begins to reflect upon his altered views, with dawning hope of personal redemption. The change produced, then, is the effect of benevolence, raising the affections of the soul from the world, and resting them upon God. Holiness is now most ardently loved. This is seen to dwell in God and His kingdom, and to be upheld and perfected by His moral government. It is the treasure of the soul, and all the attributes of God stand pledged to protect it. The solicitude, therefore, is not merely, What will become of me? but, What, O Lord, will become of Thy glory, and the glory of Thy kingdom? And in the character of God, these inquiries are satisfactorily answered. If God be glorified, and His kingdom upheld and made happy, the soul is satisfied. There is nothing else to be anxious about; for individual happiness is included in the general good, as the drop is included in the ocean. CHANNING THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING, the famous Unitarian divine, was born at Newport, R. I., in 1780. He took his degree at Harvard in 1798, studied theology and was ordained pastor of the Federal Street Church in Boston, 1803. He has been called the Apostle of Unitarianism, because he was first among the orthodox divines of New England to give Unitarianism a clear, dogmatic expression, as he did in a sermon preached at the ordination of Jared Sparks, in opposition to the current Calvinism of the day. But he hated the controversy in which the publication of his views involved him and professed in 1841, "I am little of a Unitarian and stand aloof from all but those who strive and pray for clearer light." He had made the acquaintance of Wordsworth and Coleridge on his visit to England, and the latter justly described him as one who had "the love of wisdom and the wisdom of love." He was a voluminous writer on theological and literary subjects and what he wrote was vigorous, of fastidious taste and fired with moral earnestness. He died in 1842. CHANNING 1780-1842 THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST _This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased_.--Matthew xvii., 5. The character of Christ may be studied for various purposes. It is singularly fitted to call forth the heart, to awaken love, admiration, and moral delight. As an example it has no rival. As an evidence of His religion perhaps it yields to no other proof; perhaps no other has so often conquered unbelief. It is chiefly to this last view of it that I now ask your attention. The character of Christ is a strong confirmation of the truth of His religion. As such I would now place it before you. I shall not, however, think only of confirming your faith; the very illustrations which I shall adduce for this purpose will show the claims of Jesus to our reverence, obedience, imitation, and fervent love. The more we contemplate Christ's character as exhibited in the gospel, the more we shall be impressed with its genuineness and reality. It was plainly drawn from the life. The narratives of the evangelists bear the marks of truth perhaps beyond all other histories. They set before us the most extraordinary being who ever appeared on earth, and yet they are as artless as the stories of childhood. The authors do not think of themselves. They have plainly but one aim, to show us their Master; and they manifest the deep veneration which He inspired by leaving Him to reveal Himself, by giving us His actions and sayings without comment, explanation, or eulogy. You see in these narratives no varnishing, no high coloring, no attempts to make His actions striking or to bring out the beauties of His character. We are never pointed to any circumstance as illustrative of His greatness. The evangelists write with a calm trust in His character, with a feeling that it needed no aid from their hands, and with a deep veneration, as if comment or praise of their own were not worthy to mingle with the recital of such a life. It is the effect of our familiarity with the history of Jesus that we are not struck by it as we ought to be. We read it before we are capable of understanding its excellence. His stupendous works become as familiar to us as the events of ordinary life, and His high offices seem as much matters of course as the common relations which men bear to each other. On this account it is fit for the ministers of religion to do what the evangelists did not attempt, to offer comments on Christ's character, to bring out its features, to point men to its higher beauties, to awaken their awe by unfolding its wonderful majesty. Indeed, one of our most important functions as teachers is to give freshness and vividness to truths which have become worn, I had almost said tarnished, by long and familiar handling. We have to fight with the power of habit. Through habit men look on this glorious creation with insensibility, and are less moved by the all-enlightening sun than by a show of fireworks. It is the duty of a moral and religious teacher almost to create a new sense in men, that they may learn in what a world of beauty and magnificence they live. And so in regard to Christ's character; men become used to it until they imagine that there is something more admirable in a great man of their own day, a statesman or a conqueror, than in Him the latchet of whose shoes statesmen and conquerors are not worthy to unloose. In this discourse I wish to show that the character of Christ, taken as a whole, is one which could not have entered the thoughts of man, could not have been imagined or feigned; that it bears every mark of genuineness and truth; that it ought therefore to be acknowledged as real and of divine origin. It is all-important, my friends, if we would feel the force of this argument, to transport ourselves to the times when Jesus lived. We are very apt to think that He was moving about in such a city as this, or among a people agreeing with ourselves in modes of thinking and habits of life. But the truth is, he lived in a state of society singularly remote from our own. Of all the nations the Jewish was the most strongly marked. The Jew hardly felt himself to belong to the human family. He was accustomed to speak of himself as chosen by God, holy, clean; whilst the Gentiles were sinners, dogs, polluted, unclean. His common dress, the phylactery on his brow or arm, the hem of his garment, his food, the ordinary circumstances of his life, as well as his temple, his sacrifices, his ablutions, all held him up to himself as a peculiar favorite of God, and all separated him from the rest of the world. With other nations he could not eat or marry. They were unworthy of his communion. Still, with all these notions of superiority he saw himself conquered by those whom he despised. He was obliged to wear the shackles of Rome, to see Roman legions in his territory, a Roman guard near his temple, and a Roman tax-gatherer extorting, for the support of an idolatrous government and an idolatrous worship, what he regarded as due only to God. The hatred which burned in the breast of the Jew toward his foreign oppressor perhaps never glowed with equal intenseness in any other conquered state. He had, however, his secret consolation. The time was near, the prophetic age was at hand, when Judea was to break her chains and rise from the dust. Her long-promised king and deliverer was near, and was coming to wear the crown of universal empire. From Jerusalem was to go forth His law, and all nations were to serve the chosen people of God. To this conqueror the Jews indeed ascribed the office of promoting religion; but the religion of Moses, corrupted into an outward service, was to them the perfection of human nature. They clung to its forms with the whole energy of their souls. To the Mosaic institution they ascribed their distinction from all other nations. It lay at the foundation of their hopes of dominion. I believe no strength of prejudice ever equalled the intense attachment of the Jew to his peculiar national religion. You may judge of its power by the fact of its having been transmitted through so many ages, amidst persecution and sufferings which would have subdued any spirit but that of a Jew. You must bring these things to your mind. You must place yourselves in the midst of this singular people. Among this singular people, burning with impatient expectation, appeared Jesus of Nazareth. His first words were, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." These words we hear with little emotion; but to the Jews, who had been watching for this kingdom for ages, and who were looking for its immediate manifestation, they must have been awakening as an earthquake. Accordingly we find Jesus thronged by multitudes which no building could contain. He repairs to a mountain, as affording him advantages for addressing the crowd. I see them surrounding Him with eager looks, and ready to drink in every word from His lips. And what do I hear? Not one word of Judea, of Rome, of freedom, of conquest, of the glories of God's chosen people, and of the thronging of all nations to the temple on Mount Zion. Almost every word was a death-blow to the hopes and feelings which glowed through the whole people, and were consecrated under the name of religion. He speaks of the long-expected kingdom of heaven; but speaks of it as a felicity promised to, and only to be partaken of by, the humble and pure in heart. The righteousness of the Pharisees, that which was deemed the perfection of religion, and which the new deliverer was expected to spread far and wide, He pronounces worthless, and declares the kingdom of heaven, or of the Messiah, to be shut against all who do not cultivate a new, spiritual, and disinterested virtue. Instead of war and victory He commands His impatient hearers to love, to forgive, to bless their enemies; and holds forth this spirit of benignity, mercy, peace, as the special badge of the people of the true Messiah. Instead of national interests and glories, he commands them to seek first a spirit of impartial charity and love, unconfined by the bounds of tribe or nation, and proclaims this to be the happiness and honor of the reign for which they hoped. Instead of this world's riches, which they expected to flow from all lands into their own, He commands them to lay up treasures in heaven, and directs them to an incorruptible, immortal life, as the true end of their being. Nor is this all. He does not merely offer himself as a spiritual deliverer, as the founder of a new empire of inward piety and universal charity; He closes with language announcing a more mysterious office. "Many will say unto Me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Thy name, and in Thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you; depart from Me, ye that work iniquity." Here I meet the annunciation of a character as august as it must have been startling. I hear Him foretelling a dominion to be exercised in the future world. He begins to announce, what entered largely into His future teaching, that His power was not bounded to this earth. These words I better understand when I hear Him subsequently declaring that, after a painful death, He was to rise again and ascend to heaven, and there, in a state of preeminent power and glory, was to be the advocate and judge of the human race. Such are some of the views given by Jesus, of His character and reign, in the Sermon on the Mount. Immediately afterwards I hear another lesson from Him, bringing out some of these truths still more strongly. A Roman centurion makes application to Him for the cure of a servant whom he particularly valued; and on expressing, in a strong manner, his conviction of the power of Jesus to heal at a distance, Jesus, according to the historian, "marvelled, and said to those that followed, Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great faith in Israel; and I say unto you, that many shall come from the east and west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven; but the children of the kingdom" (that is, the Jews) "shall be cast out." Here all the hopes which the Jews had cherished of an exclusive or peculiar possession of the Messiah's kingdom were crushed; and the reception of the despised Gentile world to all His blessings, or, in other words, the extension of His pure religion to the ends of the earth, began to be proclaimed. Here I pause for the present, and I ask you whether the character of Jesus be not the most extraordinary in history, and wholly inexplicable on human principles. Review the ground over which we have gone. Recollect that He was born and grew up a Jew in the midst of Jews, a people burning with one passion, and throwing their whole souls into the expectation of a national and earthly deliverer. He grew up among them in poverty, seclusion, and labors fitted to contract His thoughts, purposes, and hopes; and yet we find Him escaping every influence of education and society. We find Him as untouched by the feelings which prevailed universally around Him, which religion and patriotism concurred to consecrate, which the mother breathed into the ear of the child, and which the teacher of the synagog strengthened in the adult, as if He had been brought up in another world. We find Him conceiving a sublime purpose, such as had never dawned on sage or hero, and see Him possessed with a consciousness of sustaining a relation to God and mankind, and of being invested with powers in this world and the world to come, such as had never entered the human mind. Whence now, I ask, came the conception of this character? Will any say it had its origin in imposture; that it was a fabrication of a deceiver? I answer, the character claimed by Christ excludes this supposition by its very nature. It was so remote from all the ideas and anticipations of the times, so unfit to awaken sympathy, so unattractive to the heathen, so exasperating to the Jew, that it was the last to enter the mind of an impostor. A deceiver of the dullest vision must have foreseen that it would expose him to bitter scorn, abhorrence, and persecution, and that he would be left to carry on his work alone, just as Jesus always stood alone and could find not an individual to enter into His spirit and design. What allurements an unprincipled, self-seeking man could find to such an enterprise, no common ingenuity can discover. I affirm next that the sublimity of the character claimed by Christ forbids us to trace it to imposture. That a selfish, designing, depraved mind could have formed the idea and purpose of a work unparalleled in beneficence, in vastness, and in moral grandeur, would certainly be a strange departure from the laws of the human mind. I add, that if an impostor could have lighted on the conception of so sublime and wonderful a work as that claimed by Jesus, he could not, I say, he could not have thrown into his personation of it the air of truth and reality. The part would have been too high for him. He would have overacted it or fallen short of it perpetually. His true character would have rebelled against his assumed one. We should have seen something strained, forced, artificial, awkward, showing that he was not in his true sphere. To act up to a character so singular and grand, and one for which no precedent could be found, seems to me utterly impossible for a man who had not the true spirit of it, or who was only wearing it as a mask. Now, how stands the case with Jesus? Bred a Jewish peasant or carpenter, He issues from obscurity, and claims for Himself a divine office, a superhuman dignity, such as had not been imagined; and in no instance does He fall below the character. The peasant, and still more the Jew, wholly disappears. We feel that a new being, of a new order of mind, is taking a part in human affairs. There is a native tone of grandeur and authority in His teaching. He speaks as a being related to the whole human race. His mind never shrinks within the ordinary limits of human agency. A narrower sphere than the world never enters His thoughts. He speaks in a natural, spontaneous style, of accomplishing the most arduous and important change in human affairs. This unlabored manner of expressing great thoughts is particularly worthy of attention. You never hear from Jesus that swelling, pompous, ostentatious language, which almost necessarily springs from an attempt to sustain a character above our powers. He talks of His glories as one to whom they were familiar, and of His intimacy and oneness with God as simply as a child speaks of his connection with his parents. He speaks of saving and judging the world, of drawing all men to Himself, and of giving everlasting life, as we speak of the ordinary powers which we exert. He makes no set harangues about the grandeur of His office and character. His consciousness of it gives a hue to His whole language, breaks out in indirect, undesigned expressions, showing that it was the deepest and most familiar of His convictions. This argument is only to be understood by reading the Gospels with a wakeful mind and heart. It does not lie on their surface, and it is the stronger for lying beneath it. When I read these books with care, when I trace the unaffected majesty which runs through the life of Jesus, and see him never falling below His sublime claims amidst poverty, and scorn, and in His last agony, I have a feeling of the reality of His character which I can not express. I feel that the Jewish carpenter could no more have conceived and sustained this character under motives of imposture than an infant's arm could repeat the deeds of Hercules, or his unawakened intellect comprehend and rival the matchless works of genius. Am I told that the claims of Jesus had their origin not in imposture, but in enthusiasm; that the imagination, kindled by strong feeling, overpowered the judgment so far as to give Him the notion of being destined to some strange and unparalleled work? I know that enthusiasm, or a kindled imagination, has great power; and we are never to lose sight of it, in judging of the claims of religious teachers. But I say first, that, except in cases where it amounts to insanity, enthusiasm works, in a greater or less degree, according to a man's previous conceptions and modes of thought. In Judea, where the minds of men were burning with feverish expectation of a messiah, I can easily conceive of a Jew imagining that in himself this ardent conception, this ideal of glory, was to be realized. I can conceive of his seating himself in fancy on the throne of David, and secretly pondering the means of his appointed triumphs. But that a Jew should fancy himself the Messiah, and at the same time should strip that character of all the attributes which had fired his youthful imagination and heart--that he should start aside from all the feelings and hopes of his age, and should acquire a consciousness of being destined to a wholly new career, and one as unbounded as it was now--this is exceedingly improbable; and one thing is certain that an imagination so erratic, so ungoverned, and able to generate the conviction of being destined to work so immeasurably disproportioned to the power of the individual, must have partaken of insanity. Now, is it conceivable that an individual, mastered by so wild and fervid an imagination, should have sustained the dignity claimed by Christ, should have acted worthily the highest part ever assumed on earth? Would not his enthusiasm have broken out amidst the peculiar excitements of the life of Jesus, and have left a touch of madness on his teaching and conduct? Is it to such a man that we should look for the inculcation of a new and perfect form of virtue, and for the exemplification of humanity in its fairest form? The charge of an extravagant, self-deluding enthusiasm is the last to be fastened on Jesus. Where can we find the traces of it in His history? Do we detect them in the calm authority of His precepts; in the mild, practical and beneficial spirit of His religion; in the unlabored simplicity of the language with which He unfolds His high powers and the sublime truths of religion; or in the good sense, the knowledge of human nature, which He always discovers in His estimate and treatment of the different classes of men with whom He acted? Do we discover this enthusiasm in the singular fact that, whilst He claimed power in the future world, and always turned men's minds to Heaven, He never indulged His own imagination or stimulated that of His disciples by giving vivid pictures or any minute description of that unseen state? The truth is, that, remarkable as was the character of Jesus, it was distinguished by nothing more than by calmness and self-possession. This trait pervades His other excellences. How calm was His piety! Point me, if you can, to one vehement, passionate expression of His religious feelings. Does the Lord's Prayer breathe a feverish enthusiasm? The habitual style of Jesus on the subject of religion, if introduced into many churches of His followers at the present day, would be charged with coldness. The calm and the rational character of His piety is particularly seen in the doctrine which He so earnestly inculcates, that disinterested love and self-denying service to our fellow creatures are the most acceptable worship we can offer to our Creator. His benevolence, too, tho singularly earnest and deep, was composed and serene. He never lost the possession of Himself in His sympathy with others; was never hurried into the impatient and rash enterprises of an enthusiastic philanthropy; but did good with the tranquility and constancy which mark the providence of God. The depth of this calmness may best be understood by considering the opposition made to His claims. His labors were everywhere insidiously watched and industriously thwarted by vindictive foes who had even conspired to compass, through His death, the ruin of His cause. Now, a feverish enthusiasm which fancies itself to be intrusted with a great work of God is singularly liable to impatient indignation under furious and malignant opposition. Obstacles increase its vehemence; it becomes more eager and hurried in the accomplishment of its purposes, in proportion as they are withstood. Be it therefore remembered that the malignity of Christ's foes, tho never surpassed, and for the time triumphant, never robbed Him of self-possession, roused no passion, and threw no vehemence or precipitation into His exertions. He did not disguise from Himself or His followers the impression made on the multitude by His adversaries. He distinctly foresaw the violent death towards which He was fast approaching. Yet, confiding in God and in the silent progress of His truth, He possest His soul in peace. Not only was He calm, but His calmness rises into sublimity when we consider the storms which raged around Him and the vastness of the prospects in which His spirit found repose. I say then that serenity and self-possession were peculiarly the attributes of Jesus. I affirm that the singular and sublime character claimed by Jesus can be traced neither to imposture nor to an ungoverned, insane imagination. It can only be accounted for by its truth, its reality. I began with observing how our long familiarity with Jesus blunts our minds to His singular excellence. We probably have often read of the character which He claimed, without a thought of its extraordinary nature. But I know nothing so sublime. The plans and labors of statesmen sink into the sports of children when compared with the work which Jesus announced, and to which He devoted Himself in life and death with a thorough consciousness of its reality. The idea of changing the moral aspect of the whole earth, of recovering all nations to the pure and inward worship of one God and to a spirit of divine and fraternal love, was one of which we meet not a trace in philosopher or legislator before Him. The human mind had given no promise of this extent of view. The conception of this enterprise, and the calm, unshaken expectation of success in one who had no station and no wealth, who cast from Him the sword with abhorrence, and who forbade His disciples to use any weapons but those of love, discover a wonderful trust in the power of God and the power of love; and when to this we add that Jesus looked not only to the triumph of His pure faith in the present world, but to a mighty and beneficent power in Heaven, we witness a vastness of purpose, a grandeur of thought and feeling so original, so superior to the workings of all other minds, that nothing but our familiarity can prevent our contemplation of it with wonder and profound awe. * * * Here is the most striking view of Jesus. This combination of the spirit of humanity, in its lowliest, tenderest form, with the consciousness of unrivaled and divine glories, is the most wonderful distinction of this wonderful character. Here we learn the chief reason why He chose poverty and refused every peculiarity of manner and appearance. He did this because He desired to come near to the multitude of men, to make Himself accessible to all, to pour out the fulness of His sympathy upon all, to know and weep over their sorrows and sins, and to manifest His interest in their affections and joys. I can offer but a few instances of this sympathy of Christ with human nature in all its varieties of character and condition. But how beautiful are they! At the very opening of His ministry we find Him present at a marriage to which He and His disciples had been called. Among the Jews this was an occasion of peculiar exhilaration and festivity; but Jesus did not therefore decline it. He knew what affections, joys, sorrows, and moral influences are bound up in this institution, and He went to the celebration, not as an ascetic, to frown on its bright hopes and warm congratulations, but to sanction it by His presence and to heighten its enjoyments. How little does this comport with the solitary dignity which we should have pronounced most accordant with His character, and what a spirit of humanity does it breathe! But this event stands almost alone in His history. His chief sympathy was not with them that rejoice, but with the ignorant, sinful, sorrowful; and with these we find Him cultivating an habitual intimacy. Tho so exalted in thought and purpose, He chose uneducated men to be His chief disciples; and He lived with them, not as a superior, giving occasional and formal instruction, but became their companion traveled with them on foot, slept in their dwellings, sat at their tables, partook of their plain fare, communicated to them His truth in the simplest form; and tho they constantly misunderstood Him and never perceived His full meaning, He was never wearied with teaching them. So familiar was His intercourse that we find Peter reproving Him with an affectionate zeal for announcing His approaching death, and we find John leaning on His bosom. Of His last discourse to these disciples I need not speak. It stands alone among all writings for the union of tenderness and majesty. His own sorrows are forgotten in His solicitude to speak peace and comfort to His humble followers. The depth of His human sympathies was beautifully manifested when children were brought Him. His disciples, judging as all men would judge, thought that He was sent to wear the crown of universal empire, had too great a work before Him to give His time and attention to children, and reproved the parents who brought them; but Jesus, rebuking His disciples, called to Him the children. Never, I believe, did childhood awaken such deep love as at that moment. He took them in His arms and blest them, and not only said that "of such was the kingdom of heaven," but added, "He that receiveth a little child in My name, receiveth Me;" so entirely did He identify Himself with this primitive, innocent, beautiful form of human nature. There was no class of human beings so low as to be beneath His sympathy. He not merely taught the publican and sinner, but, with all His consciousness of purity, sat down and dined with them, and, when reproved by the malignant Pharisee for such companionship, answered by the touching parables of the Lost Sheep and the Prodigal Son, and said, "I am come to seek and to save that which was lost." No personal suffering dried up this fountain of love in His breast. On His way to the cross He heard some women of Jerusalem bewailing Him, and at the sound, forgetting His own grief, He turned to them and said, "Women of Jerusalem, weep not for Me, but weep for yourselves and your children." On the cross, whilst His mind was divided between intense suffering and the contemplation of the infinite blessings in which His sufferings were to issue, His eye lighted on His mother and John, and the sensibilities of a son and a friend mingled with the sublime consciousness of the universal Lord and Savior. Never before did natural affection find so tender and beautiful an utterance. To His mother He said, directing her to John, "Behold thy son; I leave My beloved disciple to take My place, to perform My filial offices, and to enjoy a share of that affection with which you have followed Me through life;" and to John He said, "Behold thy mother; I bequeath to you the happiness of ministering to My dearest earthly friend." Nor is this all. The spirit of humanity had one higher triumph. Whilst His enemies surrounded Him with a malignity unsoftened by His last agonies, and, to give the keenest edge to insult, reminded Him scoffingly of the high character and office which He had claimed, His only notice of them was the prayer, "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." Thus Jesus lived with men; with the consciousness of unutterable majesty He joined a lowliness, gentleness, humanity, and sympathy, which have no example in human history. I ask you to contemplate this wonderful union. In proportion to the superiority of Jesus to all around Him was the intimacy, the brotherly love, with which He bound Himself to them. I maintain that this is a character wholly remote from human conception. To imagine it to be the production of imposture or enthusiasm shows a strange unsoundness of mind. I contemplate it with a veneration second only to the profound awe with which I look up to God. It bears no mark of human invention. It was real. It belonged to and it manifested the beloved Son of God. But I have not done. May I ask your attention a few moments more? We have not yet reached the depth of Christ's character. We have not touched the great principle on which His wonderful sympathy was founded, and which endeared to Him His office of universal Savior. Do you ask what this deep principle was? I answer, it was His conviction of the greatness of the human soul. He saw in man the impress and image of the Divinity, and therefore thirsted for his redemption, and took the tenderest interest in him, whatever might be the rank, character, or condition in which he was found. This spiritual view of man pervades and distinguishes the teaching of Christ. Jesus looked on men with an eye which pierced beneath the material frame. The body vanished before Him. The trappings of the rich, the rags of the poor, were nothing to Him. He looked through them, as tho they did not exist, to the soul; and there, amidst clouds of ignorance and plague-spots of sin, He recognized a spiritual and immortal nature, and the germs of power and perfection which might be unfolded forever. In the most fallen and depraved man He saw a being who might become an angel of light. Still more, He felt that there was nothing in Himself to which men might not ascend. His own lofty consciousness did not sever Him from the multitude; for He saw in His own greatness the model of what men might become. So deeply was He thus imprest that, again and again, in speaking of His future glories, He announced that in these His true followers were to share. They were to sit on His throne and partake of His beneficent power. Here I pause, and indeed I know not what can be added to heighten the wonder, reverence, and love which are due to Jesus. When I consider Him, not only as possest with the consciousness of an unexampled and unbounded majesty, but as recognizing a kindred nature in human beings, and living and dying to raise them to a participation of His divine glories; and when I see Him under these views allying Himself to men by the tenderest ties, embracing them with a spirit of humanity which no insult, injury, or pain could for a moment repel or overpower, I am filled with wonder as well as reverence and love. I feel that this character is not of human invention, that it was not assumed through fraud, or struck out by enthusiasm; for it is infinitely above their reach. When I add this character of Jesus to the other evidences of His religion, it gives to what before seemed so strange a new and a vast accession of strength; I feel as if I could not be deceived. The Gospels must be true; they were drawn from a living original; they were founded on reality. The character of Jesus is not a fiction; He was what He claimed to be, and what His followers attested. Nor is this all. Jesus not only was, He is still the Son of God, the Savior of the world. He exists now; He has entered that heaven to which He always looked forward on earth. There He lives and reigns. With a clear, calm faith I see Him in that state of glory; and I confidently expect, at no distant period, to see Him face to face. We have indeed no absent friend whom we shall so surely meet. Let us then, my hearers, by imitation of His virtues and obedience to His word, prepare ourselves to join Him in those pure mansions where He is surrounding Himself with the good and pure of our race, and will communicate to them forever His own spirit, power, and joy. CHALMERS THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW AFFECTION BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE THOMAS CHALMERS, theologian, preacher and philanthropist, was born at Anstruther, near St. Andrews, Scotland, in 1780. In his thirty-fifth year he experienced a profound religious change and became a pronounced, tho independent, evangelical preacher. On being appointed to the Tron Church in Glasgow, he set about to face what he called "the home heathenism." During the week days he delivered his series of "Astronomical Discourses," in which he endeavored to bring science into harmony with Christianity. His "Commercial Discourses" were designed to Christianize the principles of trade. But he reduced pauperism chiefly by fighting against intemperance in Glasgow. On being transferred to St. John's Parish, the largest, but poorest in the city, he made Edward Irving his assistant. In 1828 he was called to the chair of theology in Edinburgh University. But it was as a preacher that he exerted most influence by bringing the evangelical message into relations with the science, the culture, the thinking of his age. In doing this he carried his hearers away by the blazing force of his eloquence. Many times in his preaching he was "in an agony of earnestness," and one of his hearers speaks of "that voice, that face, those great, simple, living thoughts, those floods of resistless eloquence, that piercing, shattering voice!" He died in 1847. CHALMERS 1780-1847 THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW AFFECTION _Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him_.--1 John ii., 15. There are two ways in which a practical moralist may attempt to displace from the human heart its love of the world; either by a demonstration of the world's vanity, so as that the heart shall be prevailed upon simply to withdraw its regards from an object that is not worthy of it; or, by setting forth another object, even God, as more worthy of its attachment; so as that the heart shall be prevailed upon, not to resign an old affection which shall have nothing to succeed it, but to exchange an old affection for a new one. My purpose is to show, that from the constitution of our nature, the former method is altogether incompetent and ineffectual--and that the latter method will alone suffice for the rescue and recovery of the heart from the wrong affection that domineers over it. After having accomplished this purpose, I shall attempt a few practical observations. Love may be regarded in two different conditions. The first is when its object is at a distance, and when it becomes love in a state of desire. The second is when its object is in possession, and then it becomes love in a state of indulgence. Under the impulse of desire, man feels himself urged onward in some path or pursuit of activity for its gratification. The faculties of his mind are put into busy exercise. In the steady direction of one great and engrossing interest, his attention is recalled from the many reveries into which it might otherwise have wandered; and the powers of his body are forced away from an indolence in which it else might have languished; and that time is crowded with occupation, which but for some object of keen and devoted ambition, might have driveled along in successive hours of weariness and distaste--and tho hope does not always enliven, and success does not always crown the career of exertion, yet in the midst of this very variety, and with the alternations of occasional disappointment, is the machinery of the whole man kept in a sort of congenial play, and upholden in that tone and temper which are most agreeable to it; insomuch that, if through the extirpation of that desire which forms the originating principle of all this movement, the machinery were to stop, and to receive no impulse from another desire substituted in its place, the man would be left with all his propensities to action in a state of most painful and unnatural abandonment. A sensitive being suffers, and is in violence, if, after having thoroughly rested from his fatigue, or been relieved from his pain, he continue in possession of powers without any excitement to these powers; if he possess a capacity of desire without having an object of desire; or if he have a spare energy upon his person, without a counterpart, and without a stimulus to call it into operation. The misery of such a condition is often realized by him who is retired from business, or who is retired from law, or who is even retired from the occupations of the chase, and of the gaming-table. Such is the demand of our nature for an object in pursuit, that no accumulation of previous success can extinguish it--and thus it is, that the most prosperous merchant, and the most victorious general, and the most fortunate gamester, when the labor of their respective vocations has come to a close, are often found to languish in the midst of all their acquisitions, as if out of their kindred and rejoicing element. It is quite in vain, with such a constitutional appetite for employment in man, to attempt cutting away from him the spring or the principle of one employment, without providing him with another. The whole heart and habit will rise in resistance against such an undertaking. The else unoccupied female, who spends the hours of every evening at some play of hazard, knows as well as you, that the pecuniary gain, or the honorable triumph of a successful contest, are altogether paltry. It is not such a demonstration of vanity as this that will force her away from her dear and delightful occupation. The habit can not so be displaced as to leave nothing but a negative and cheerless vacancy behind it--tho it may be so supplanted as to be followed up by another habit of employment, to which the power of some new affection has constrained her. It is willingly suspended, for example, on any single evening, should the time that is wont to be allotted to gaming be required to be spent on the preparations of an approaching assembly. The ascendant power of a second affection will do what no exposition, however forcible, of the folly and worthlessness of the first, ever could effectuate. And it is the same in the great world. You never will be able to arrest any of its leading pursuits by a naked demonstration of their vanity. It is quite in vain to think of stopping one of these pursuits in any way else but by stimulating to another. In attempting to bring a worthy man, intent and busied with the prosecution of his objects, to a dead stand, you have not merely to encounter the charm which he annexes to these objects, but you have to encounter the pleasure which he feels in the very prosecution of them. It is not enough, then, that you dissipate the charm by your moral and eloquent and affecting exposure of its illusiveness. You must address to the eye of his mind another object, with a charm powerful enough to dispossess the first of its influence, and to engage him in some other prosecution as full of interest and hope and congenial activity as the former. It is this which stamps an impotency on all moral and pathetic declamation about the insignificance of the world. A man will no more consent to the misery of being without an object, because that object is a trifle, or of being without a pursuit, because that pursuit terminates in some frivolous or fugitive acquirement, than he will voluntarily submit himself to the torture, because that torture is to be of short duration. If to be without desire and without exertion altogether is a state of violence and discomfort, then the present desire, with its correspondent train of exertion, is not to be got rid of simply by destroying it. It must be by substituting another desire, and another line or habit of exertion in its place, and the most effectual way of withdrawing the mind from one object is not by turning it away upon desolate and unpeopled vacancy, but by presenting to its regards another object still more alluring. These remarks apply not merely to love considered in its state of desire for an object not yet obtained. They apply also to love considered in its state of indulgence, or placid gratification, with an object already in possession. It is seldom that any of our tastes are made to disappear by a mere process of natural extinction. At least, it is very seldom that this is done through the instrumentality of reasoning. It may be done by excessive pampering, but it is almost never done by the mere force of mental determination. But what can not be thus destroyed, may be dispossest--and one taste may be made to give way to another, and to lose its power entirely as the reigning affection of the mind. It is thus that the boy ceases, at length, to be the slave of his appetite; but it is because a manlier taste has now brought it into subordination, and that the youth ceases to idolize pleasure; but it is because the idol of wealth has become the stronger and gotten the ascendency, and that even the love of money ceases to have the mastery over the heart of many a thriving citizen; but it is because, drawn into the whirl of city politics, another affection has been wrought into his moral system, and he is now lorded over by the love of power. There is not one of these transformations in which the heart is left without an object. Its desire for one particular object may be conquered; but as to its desire for having some one object or other, this is unconquerable. Its adhesion to that on which it has fastened the preference of its regards, can not willingly be overcome by the rending away of a simple separation. It can be done only by the application of something else, to which it may feel the adhesion of a still stronger and more powerful preference. Such is the grasping tendency of the human heart, that it must have a something to lay hold of--and which, if wrested away without the substitution of another something in its place, would leave a void and a vacancy as painful to the mind as hunger is to the natural system. It may be dispossest of one object, or of any, but it can not be desolated of all. Let there be a breathing and a sensitive heart, but without a liking and without affinity to any of the things that are around it, and in a state of cheerless abandonment, it would be alive to nothing but the burden of its own consciousness, and feel it to be intolerable. It would make no difference to its owner, whether he dwelt in the midst of a gay and a goodly world, or, placed afar beyond the outskirts of creation, he dwelt a solitary unit in dark and unpeopled nothingness. The heart must have something to cling to--and never, by its own voluntary consent, will it so denude itself of all its attachments that there shall not be one remaining object that can draw or solicit it. The misery of a heart thus bereft of all relish for that which is wont to minister enjoyment, is strikingly exemplified in those who, satiated with indulgence, have been so belabored, as it were, with the variety and the poignancy of the pleasurable sensations that they have experienced, that they are at length fatigued out of all capacity for sensation whatever. The disease of ennui is more frequent in the French metropolis, where amusement is more exclusively the occupation of higher classes, than it is in the British metropolis, where the longings of the heart are more diversified by the resources of business and politics. There are the votaries of fashion, who, in this way, have at length become the victims of fashionable excess; in whom the very multitude of their enjoyments has at last extinguished their power of enjoyment; who, with the gratifications of art and nature at command, now look upon all that is around them with an eye of tastelessness; who, plied with the delights of sense and of splendor even to weariness, and incapable of higher delights, have come to the end of all their perfection, and, like Solomon of old, found it to be vanity and vexation. The man whose heart has thus been turned into a desert can vouch for the insupportable languor which must ensue, when one affection is thus plucked away from the bosom, without another to replace it. It is not necessary that a man receive pain from anything, in order to become miserable. It is barely enough that he looks with distaste to everything, and in that asylum which is the repository of minds out of joint, and where the organ of feeling as well as the organ of intellect has been impaired, it is not in the cell of loud and frantic outcries where you will meet with the acme of mental suffering; but that is the individual who outpeers in wretchedness all his fellows, who throughout the whole expanse of nature and society meets not an object that has at all the power to detain or to interest him; who neither in earth beneath, nor in heaven above, knows of a single charm to which his heart can send forth one desirous or responding movement; to whom the world, in his eye a vast and empty desolation, has left him nothing but his own consciousness to feed upon, dead to all that is without him, and alive to nothing but to the load of his own torpid and useless existence. We know not a more sweeping interdict upon the affections of nature, than that which is delivered by the apostle in the verse before us. To bid a man into whom there is not yet entered the great and ascendant influence of the principle of regeneration, to bid him withdraw his love from all the things that are in the world, is to bid him give up all the affections that are in his heart. The world is the all of a natural man. He has not a taste, nor a desire, that points not to a something placed within the confines of its visible horizon. He loves nothing above it, and he cares for nothing beyond it; and to bid him love not the world is to pass a sentence of expulsion on all the inmates of his bosom. To estimate the magnitude and the difficulty of such a surrender, let us only think that it were just as arduous to prevail on him not to love wealth, which is but one of the things in the world, as to prevail on him to set wilful fire to his own property. This he might do with sore and painful reluctance, if he saw that the salvation of his life hung upon it. But this he would do willingly if he saw that a new property of tenfold value was instantly to emerge from the wreck of the old one. In this case there is something more than the mere displacement of an affection. There is the overbearing of one affection by another. But to desolate his heart of all love for the things of the world without the substitution of any love in its place, were to him a process of as unnatural violence as to destroy all the things he has in the world, and give him nothing in their room. So if to love not the world be indispensable to one's Christianity, then the crucifixion of the old man is not too strong a term to mark that transition in his history, when all old things are done away, and all things are become new. The love of the world can not be expunged by a mere demonstration of the world's worthlessness. But may it not be supplanted by the love of that which is more worthy than itself? The heart can not be prevailed upon to part with the world, by a simple act of resignation. But may not the heart be prevailed upon to admit into its preference another, who shall subordinate the world, and bring it down from its wonted ascendency? If the throne which is placed there must have an occupier, and the tyrant that now reigns has occupied it wrongfully, he may not leave a bosom which would rather detain him than be left in desolation. But may he not give way to the lawful Sovereign, appearing with every charm that can secure His willing admittance, and taking unto Himself His great power to subdue the moral nature of man, and to reign over it? In a word, if the way to disengage the heart from the positive love of one great and ascendant object is to fasten it in positive love to another, then it is not by exposing the worthlessness of the former, but by addressing to the mental eye the worth and excellence of the latter, that all old things are to be done away, and all things are to become new. This, we trust, will explain the operation of that charm which accompanies the effectual preaching of the gospel. The love of God, and the love of the world, are two affections, not merely in a state of rivalship, but in a state of enmity, and that so irreconcilable that they can not dwell together in the same bosom. We have already affirmed how impossible it were for the heart, by any innate elasticity of its own, to cast the world away from it, and thus reduce itself to a wilderness. The heart is not so constituted, and the only way to dispossess it of an old affection is by the expulsive power of a new one. Nothing can exceed the magnitude of the required change in a man's character--when bidden, as he is in the New Testament, to love not the world; no, nor any of the things that are in the world--for this so comprehends all that is dear to him in existence as to be equivalent to a command of self-annihilation. But the same revelation which dictates so mighty an obedience places within our reach as mighty an instrument of obedience. It brings for admittance, to the very door of our heart, an affection which, once seated upon its throne, will either subordinate every previous inmate, or bid it away. Beside the world it places before the eye of the mind Him who made the world, and with this peculiarity, which is all its own--that in the gospel do we so behold God as that we may love God. It is there, and there only, where God stands revealed as an object of confidence to sinners--and where our desire after Him is not chilled into apathy by that barrier of human guilt which intercepts every approach that is not made to Him through the appointed Mediator. It is the bringing in of this better hope, whereby we draw nigh unto God--and to live without hope is to live without God, and if the heart be without God the world will then have all the ascendency. It is God apprehended by the believer as God in Christ who alone can dispost it from this ascendency. It is when He stands dismantled of the terrors which belong to Him as an offended lawgiver, and when we are enabled by faith, which is His own gift, to see His glory in the face of Jesus Christ, and to hear His beseeching voice, as it protests good-will to men, and entreats the return of all who will to a full pardon, and a gracious acceptance--it is then that a love paramount to the love of the world, and at length expulsive of it, first arises in the regenerating bosom. It is when released from the spirit of bondage, with which love can not dwell, and when admitted into the number of God's children, through the faith that is in Christ Jesus, the spirit of adoption is poured upon us--it is then that the heart, brought under the mastery of one great and predominant affection, is delivered from the tyranny of its former desires, and in the only way in which deliverance is possible. And that faith which is revealed to us from heaven, as indispensable to a sinner's justification in the sight of God, is also the instrument of the greatest of all moral and spiritual achievements on a nature dead to the influence, and beyond the reach of every other application. Let us not cease then to ply the only instrument of powerful and positive operation, to do away from you the love of the world. Let us try every legitimate method of finding access to your hearts for the love of Him who is greater than the world. For this purpose let us, if possible, clear away that shroud of unbelief which so hides and darkens the face of Deity. Let us insist on His claims to your affection; and whether in the shape of gratitude, or in the shape of esteem, let us never cease to affirm that in the whole of that wondrous economy, the purpose of which is to reclaim a sinful world unto Himself, He, the God of love, so sets Himself forth in characters of endearment that naught but faith, and naught but understanding are wanting, on your part, to call forth the love of your hearts back again. And here let me advert to the incredulity of a worldly man when he brings his own sound and secular experience to bear upon the high doctrines of Christianity, when he looks on regeneration as a thing impossible, when, feeling, as he does, the obstinacies of his own heart on the side of things present, and casting an intelligent eye, much exercised perhaps in the observation of human life, on the equal obstinacies of all who are around him, he pronounces this whole matter about the crucifixion of the old man, and the resurrection of a new man in his place, to be in downright opposition to all that is known and witnessed of the real nature of humanity. We think that we have seen such men, who, firmly trenched in their own vigorous and home-bred sagacity, and shrewdly regardful of all that passes before them through the week, and upon the scenes of ordinary business, look on that transition of the heart by which it gradually dies unto time, and awakens in all the life of a new-felt and ever-growing desire toward God, as a mere Sabbath speculation; and who thus, with all their attention engrossed upon the concerns of earthliness, continue unmoved, to the end of their days, among the feelings, and the appetites, and the pursuits of earthliness. If the thought of death, and another state of being after it, comes across them at all, it is not with a change so radical as that of being born again that they ever connect the idea of preparation. They have some vague conception of its being quite enough that they acquit themselves in some decent and tolerable way of their relative obligations; and that, upon the strength of some such social and domestic moralities as are often realized by him in whose heart the love of God has never entered, they will be transplanted in safety from this world, where God is the Being with whom, it may almost be said that, they have had nothing to do, to that world where God is the Being with whom they will have mainly and immediately to do throughout all eternity. They will admit all that is said of the utter vanity of time, when taken up with as a resting-place. But they resist every application made upon the heart of man, with the view of so shifting its tendencies that it shall not henceforth find in the interests of time all its rest and all its refreshment. They, in fact, regard such an attempt as an enterprise that is altogether aerial--and with a tone of secular wisdom, caught from the familiarities of every day of experience, do they see a visionary character in all that is said of setting our affections on the things that are above; and of walking by faith; and of keeping our hearts in such a love of God as shall shut out from them the love of the world; and of having no confidence in the flesh; and of so renouncing earthly things as to have our conversation in heaven. Now, it is altogether worthy of being remarked of those men who thus disrelish spiritual Christianity, and, in fact, deem it an impracticable acquirement, how much of a piece their incredulity about the demands of Christianity, and their incredulity about the doctrines of Christianity, are with one another. No wonder that they feel the work of the New Testament to be beyond their strength, so long as they hold the words of the New Testament to be beneath their attention. Neither they nor anyone else can dispossess the heart of an old affection, but by the impulsive power of a new one--and, if that new affection be the love of God, neither they nor anyone else can be made to entertain it, but on such a representation of the Deity as shall draw the heart of the sinner toward Him. Now it is just their belief which screens from the discernment of their minds this representation. They do not see the love of God in sending His Son into the world. They do not see the expression of His tenderness to men, in sparing Him not, but giving Him up unto the death for us all. They do not see the sufficiency of the atonement, or of the sufferings that were endured by Him who bore the burden that sinners should have borne. They do not see the blended holiness and compassion of the Godhead, in that He passed by the transgressions of His creatures, yet could not pass them by without an expiation. It is a mystery to them how a man should pass to the state of godliness from a state of nature--but had they only a believing view of God manifest in the flesh, this would resolve for them the whole mystery of godliness. As it is, they can not get quit of their old affections, because they are out of sight from all those truths which have influence to raise a new one. They are like the children of Israel in the land of Egypt, when required to make bricks without straw they cannot love God, while they want the only food which can aliment this affection in a sinner's bosom--and however great their errors may be, both in resisting the demands of the gospel as impracticable, and in rejecting the doctrines of the gospel as inadmissible, yet there is not a spiritual man (and it is the prerogative of him who is spiritual to judge all men) who will not perceive that there is a consistency in these errors. But if there be a consistency in the errors, in like manner, is there a consistency in the truths which are opposite to them? The man who believes in the peculiar doctrines will readily bow to the peculiar demands of Christianity. When he is told to love God supremely, this may startle another, but it will not startle him to whom God has been revealed in peace, and in pardon, and in all the freeness of an offered reconciliation. When told to shut out the world from his heart, this may be impossible with him who has nothing to replace it--but not impossible with him who has found in God a sure and satisfying portion. When told to withdraw his affections from the things that are beneath, this were laying an order of self-extinction upon the man, who knows not another quarter in the whole sphere of his contemplation to which he could transfer them, but it were not grievous to him whose view had been opened to the loveliness and glory of the things that are above, and can there find, for every feeling of his soul, a most ample and delighted occupation. When told to look not to the things that are seen and temporal, this were blotting out the light of all that is visible from the prospect of him in whose eye there is a wall of partition between guilty nature and the joys of eternity--but he who believes that Christ has broken down this wall finds a gathering radiance upon his soul, as he looks onward in faith to the things that are unseen and eternal. Tell a man to be holy--and how can he compass such a performance, when his fellowship with holiness is a fellowship of despair? It is the atonement of the cross reconciling the holiness of the lawgiver with the safety of the offender, that hath opened the way for a sanctifying influence into the sinner's heart, and he can take a kindred impression from the character of God now brought nigh, and now at peace with him. Separate the demand from the doctrine, and you have either a system of righteousness that is impracticable, or a barren orthodoxy. Bring the demand and the doctrine together, and the true disciple of Christ is able to do the one, through the other strengthening him. The motive is adequate to the movement; and the bidden obedience to the gospel is not beyond the measure of his strength, just because the doctrine of the gospel is not beyond the measure of his acceptance. The shield of faith, and the hope of salvation, and the Word of God, and the girdle of truth, these are the armor that he has put on; and with these the battle is won, and the eminence is reached, and the man stands on the vantage ground of a new field and a new prospect. The effect is great, but the cause is equal to it, and stupendous as this moral resurrection to the precepts of Christianity undoubtedly is, there is an element of strength enough to give it being and continuance in the principles of Christianity. The object of the gospel is both to pacify the sinner's conscience and to purify his heart; and it is of importance to observe, that what mars the one of these objects mars the other also. The best way of casting out an impure affection is to admit a pure one; and by the love of what is good to expel the love of what is evil. Thus it is, that the freer gospel, the more sanctifying is the gospel; and the more it is received as a doctrine of grace, the more will it be felt as a doctrine according to godliness. This is one of the secrets of the Christian life, that the more a man holds of God as a pensioner, the greater is the payment of service that He renders back again. On the venture of "Do this and live," a spirit of fearfulness is sure to enter; and the jealousies of a legal bargain chase away all confidence from the intercourse between God and man; and the creature striving to be square and even with his creator is, in fact, pursuing all the while his own selfishness instead of God's glory; and with all the conformities which he labors to accomplish, the soul of obedience is not there, the mind is not subject to the law of God, nor indeed under such an economy ever can be. It is only when, as in the gospel, acceptance is bestowed as a present, without money and without price, that the security which man feels in God is placed beyond the reach of disturbance, or that he can repose in Him as one friend reposes in another; or that any liberal and generous understanding can be established betwixt them, the one party rejoicing over the other to do him good, the other finding that the truest gladness of his heart lies in the impulse of a gratitude by which it is awakened to the charms of a new moral existence. Salvation by grace--salvation by free grace--salvation not of works, but according to the mercy of God, salvation on such a footing is not more indispensable to the deliverance of our persons from the hand of justice than it is to the deliverance of our hearts from the chill and the weight of ungodliness. Retain a single shred or fragment of legality with the gospel, and you raise a topic of distrust between man and God. You take away from the power of the gospel to melt and to conciliate. For this purpose the freer it is the better it is. That very peculiarity which so many dread as the germ of Antinomianism, is, in fact, the germ of a new spirit and a new inclination against it. Along with the lights of a free gospel does there enter the love of the gospel, which, in proportion as you impair the freeness, you are sure to chase away. And never does the sinner find within himself so mighty a moral transformation as when, under the belief that he is saved by grace, he feels constrained thereby to offer his heart a devoted thing, and to deny ungodliness. To do any work in the best manner, you would make use of the fittest tools for it. And we trust that what has been said may serve in some degree for the practical guidance of those who would like to reach the great moral achievement of our text, but feel that the tendencies and desires of nature are too strong for them. We know of no other way by which to keep the love of the world out of our heart than to keep in our hearts the love of God--and no other way by which to keep our hearts in the love of God, than by building ourselves on our most holy faith. That denial of the world which is not possible to him that dissents from the gospel testimony, is possible, even as all things are possible, to him that believeth. To try this without faith is to work without the right tool or the right instrument. But faith worketh by love; and the way of expelling from the heart the love that transgresseth the law is to admit into its receptacles the love which fulfilleth the law. Conceive a man to be standing on the margin of this green world, and that, when he looked toward it, he saw abundance smiling upon every field, and all the blessings which earth can afford scattered in profusion throughout every family, and the light of the sun sweetly resting upon all the pleasant habitations, and the joys of human companionship brightening many a happy circle of society; conceive this to be the general character of the scene upon one side of his contemplation, and that on the other, beyond the verge of the goodly planet on which he was situated, he could descry nothing but a dark and fathomless unknown. Think you that he would bid a voluntary adieu to all the brightness and all the beauty that were before him upon earth, and commit himself to the frightful solitude away from it? Would he leave its peopled dwelling places, and become a solitary wanderer through the fields of nonentity? If space offered him nothing but a wilderness, would he for it abandon the home-bred scenes of life and cheerfulness that lay so near, and exerted such a power of urgency to detain him? Would not he cling to the regions of sense, and of life, and of society? Shrinking away from the desolation that was beyond it, would not he be glad to keep his firm footing on the territory of this world, and to take shelter under the silver canopy that was stretched over it? But if, during the time of his contemplation, some happy island of the blest had floated by, and there had burst upon his senses the light of surpassing glories, and its sounds of sweeter melody, and he clearly saw there a purer beauty rested upon every field, and a more heartfelt joy spread itself among all the families, and he could discern there a peace, and a piety, and a benevolence which put a moral gladness into every bosom, and united the whole society in one rejoicing sympathy with each other, and with the beneficent Father of them all. Could he further see that pain and mortality were there unknown, and above all, that signals of welcome were hung out, and an avenue of communication was made before him--perceive you not that what was before the wilderness, would become the land of invitation, and that now the world would be the wilderness? What unpeopled space could not do, can be done by space teeming with beatific scenes, and beatific society. And let the existing tendencies of the heart be what they may to the scene that is near and visible around us, still if another stood revealed to the prospect of man, either through the channel of faith or through the channel of his senses--then, without violence done to the constitution of his moral nature, may he die unto the present world, and live to the lovelier world that stands in the distance away from it. CAMPBELL THE MISSIONARY CAUSE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE ALEXANDER CAMPBELL, prominent in the body known as Disciples or Christians, was born in Ireland in 1788, and received his education in Glasgow University. In 1809 he emigrated to the United States and took charge of a Presbyterian congregation in Bethany, Va. He did not long remain in this pastorate, but proceeded to institute a society based upon the abolition of all confessions and formularies and the acknowledgment of the text of the Holy Scriptures as the sole creed of the Church. In 1841 he founded Bethany College (Bethany, Va.), and remained its president until his death in 1866. In 1823 he founded the _Christian Baptist_, changed its name in 1829 to the _Millennial Harbinger_, but abandoned it three years before his death. He was a prolific controversial writer and published over fifty volumes, among which were hymn books and a translation of the New Testament. CAMPBELL 1788-1866 THE MISSIONARY CAUSE[1] [1] Delivered to the American Christian Missionary Society, Cincinnati, October, 1860. _He that winneth souls is wise._--Prov. xi., 30. The missionary cause is older than the material universe. It was celebrated by Job--the oldest poet on the pages of time. Jehovah challenges Job to answer Him a few questions on the institutions of the universe. "Gird up now thy loins," said He; "and I will demand of thee a few responses. Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Declare, if thou hast understanding. Who has fixt the measure thereof? Or who has stretched the line upon it? What are the foundations thereof? Who has laid the corner-stone thereof when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? Who shut up the sea with doors when it burst forth issuing from the womb of eternity--when I made a cloud its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band? I appointed its limits, saying, Thus far shalt thou come, but no farther; and here shall the pride of thy waves be stayed. "Has the rain a father? Who has begotten the drops of the dew? Who was the mother of the ice? And the hoar-frost of heaven, who has begotten it? Can mortal man bind the bands of the Seven Stars, or loose the cords of Orion? Can he bring forth and commission the twelve signs of the Zodiac, or bind Arcturus with his seven sons? "Knowest thou, oh man, the missionaries of the starry heavens? Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, that abundance of waters may cover thee? Canst thou command the lightnings, so that they may say to thee, Here we are? Who can number the clouds in wisdom? Or who can pour out the bottles of heaven upon the thirsty fields?" If such be a single page in the volume of God's physical missionaries, what must be its contents could we, by the telescope of an angel, survey one single province of the universe, of universes, which occupy topless, bottomless, boundless space! We have data in the Bible, and, in the phenomena of the material universe, sufficient to authorize the assumption that the missionary idea circumscribes and permeates the entire area of creations. Need we inquire into the meaning of a celestial title given to the tenantries of the heaven of heavens? But you all, my Christian brethren, know it. You anticipate me. The sweet poet of Israel told you long since, in his sixty-eighth ode, that the chariots of God are about twenty thousand of angels.[2] [2] This is an exact literal version of _Rebotayim alphey shenan_. The Targum says, "The chariots of God are two myriads--and two thousand angels draw them." A myriad is 10,000--two myriads 20,000. "To know this," Adam Clarke says, "we must die." And what is an angel but a messenger, a missionary? Hence the seven angels of the seven churches in Asia were seven missionaries, or messengers, sent to John in his exile; and by these John wrote letters to the seven congregations in Asia. Figuratively, God makes the winds and lightnings his angels, his messengers of wrath or of mercy, as the case may be. But we are a missionary society--a society assembled from all points of the compass, assembled, too, we hope, in the true missionary spirit, which is the spirit of Christianity in its primordial conception. God Himself instituted it. Moses is the oldest missionary whose name is inscribed on the rolls of time. He was the first divine missionary, and, if we except John the Baptist, he was the second in rank and character to the Lord Messiah Himself. Angels and missionaries are rudimentally but two names for the same officers. But of the incarnate Word, God's only begotten Son, He says, "Thou art my son, the beloved, in whom I delight." And He commands the world of humanity to hearken to Him. He was, indeed, God's own special ambassador, invested with all power in heaven and on earth--a true, a real, an everlasting plenipotentiary, having vested in Him all the rights of God and all the rights of man. And were not all the angels of heaven placed under Him as His missionaries, sent forth to minister to the heirs of salvation? His commission, given to the twelve apostles, is a splendid and glorious commission. Its preamble is wholly unprecedented--"All authority in heaven and on earth is given to me." In pursuance thereof, he gave commission to His apostles, saying, "Go, convert all the nations, immersing them into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit; teaching them to observe all things whatever I have commanded you; and, lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the world." Angels, apostles and evangelists were placed under this command, and by Him commissioned as His ambassadors to the world. The missionary institution, we repeat, is older than Adam--older than our earth. It is coeval with the origin of angels. Satan had been expelled from heaven before Adam was created. His assault upon our mother Eve, by an incarnation in the most subtle animal in Paradise, is positive proof of the intensity of his malignity to God and to man. He, too, has his missionaries in the whole area of humanity. Michael and his angels, or missionaries, are, and long have been, in conflict against the devil and his missionaries. The battle, in this our planet, is yet in progress, and therefore missionaries are in perpetual demand. Hence the necessity incumbent on us to carry on this warfare as loyal subjects of the Hero of our redemption. The Christian armory is well supplied with all the weapons essential to the conflict. We need them all. "We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against wicked spirits in the regions of the air." Hence the need of having our "loins girded with the truth"; having on the breastplate of righteousness, our feet shod with the preparation to publish the gospel of peace, taking the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, the Word of God, always praying and making supplication for our fellow-missionaries and for all saints. The missionary fields are numerous and various. They are both domestic and foreign. The harvest is great in both. The laborers are still few, comparatively very few, in either of them. The supply is not a tithe of the demand. The Macedonians cry, "Come over and help us;" "Send us an evangelist;" "Send us missionaries;" "The fields are large, the people are desirous, anxious, to hear the original gospel. What can you do for us?" Nothing! Nothing! My brethren, ought this so to be? Schools for the prophets are wanting. But there is a too general apathy or indifference on the subject. We pray to the Lord of the harvest to send our reapers to gather it into His garner. But what do we besides praying for it? Do we work for it? Suppose a farmer should pray to the Lord for an abundant harvest next year, and should never, in seed-time, turn over one furrow or scatter one handful of seed: what would we think of him? Would not his neighbors regard him as a monomaniac or a simpleton? And wherein does he excel such a one in wisdom or in prudence who prays to the Lord to send out reapers--missionaries, or evangelists--to gather a harvest of souls, when he himself never gives a dollar to a missionary, or the value of it, to enable him to go into the field? Can such a person be in earnest, or have one sincere desire in his heart to effect such an object or purpose? We must confess that we could have no faith either in his head or in his heart. The heavenly missionaries require neither gold nor silver, neither food nor raiment. Not so the earthly missionaries. They themselves, their wives and children, demand both food and clothing, to say nothing of houses and furniture. Their present home is not "The gorgeous city, garnish'd like a bride, Where Christ for spouse expected is to pass, The walls of jasper compass'd on each side, And streets all paved with gold, more bright than glass." If such were the missionary's home on earth, he might, indeed, labor gratuitously all the days of his life. In an humble cottage--rather an unsightly cabin--we sometimes see the wife of his youth, in garments quite as unsightly as those of her children, impatiently waiting "their sire's return, to climb to his knees the envied kiss to share." But, when the supper table is spread, what a beggarly account of almost empty plates and dishes! Whose soul would not sicken at such a sight? I have twice, if not thrice, in days gone by, when travelling on my early missionary tours--over not the poorest lands nor the poorest settlements, either--witnessed some such cases, and heard of more. I was then my own missionary, with the consent, however, of one church. I desired to mingle with all classes of religious society, that I might personally and truthfully know, not the theories, but the facts and the actualities, of the Christian ministry and the so-called Christian public. I spent a considerable portion of my time during the years 1812, '13, '14, '15, '16, traveling throughout western Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Ohio. I then spent seven years in reviewing my past studies, and in teaching the languages and the sciences--after which I extended my evangelical labors into other States and communities, that I might still more satisfactorily apprehend and appreciate the _status_, or the actual condition, of the nominally and profest religious or Christian world. Having shortly after my baptism connected myself with the Baptist people, and attending their associations as often as I could, I became more and more penetrated with the conviction that theory had usurped the place of faith, and that consequently, human institutions had been, more or less, substituted for the apostolic and the divine. During this period of investigation I had the pleasure of forming an intimate acquaintance with sundry Baptist ministers, East and West, as well as with the ministry of other denominations. Flattering prospects of usefulness on all sides began to expand before me and to inspire me with the hope of achieving a long-cherished object--doing some good in the advocacy of the primitive and apostolic gospel--having in the year 1820 a discussion on the subject of the first positive institution enacted by the Lord Messiah, and in A. D. 1823 another on the same subject--the former more especially on the subject and action of Christian baptism, the latter more emphatically on the design of that institution tho including the former two. These discussions, more or less, embraced the rudimental elements of the Christian institution, and gave to the public a bold relief outline of the whole genius, spirit, letter and doctrine of the gospel. Its missionary spirit, tho not formally propounded, was yet indicated, in these discussions; because this institution was the terminus of the missionary work. It was a component element of the gospel, as clearly seen in the commission of the enthroned Messiah. Its preamble is the superlative fact of the whole Bible. We regret, indeed, that this most sublime preamble has been so much lost sight of even by the present living generation. If we ask when the Church of Jesus Christ began or when the reign of the Heavens commenced, the answer, in what is usually called Christendom, will make it either to be contemporaneous with the ministry of John the Harbinger, or with the birth of the Lord Jesus Christ. We will find one of these two opinions almost universally entertained. The Baptists are generally much attached to John the Baptist; the Pedobaptists, to the commencement of Christ's public ministry. John the Baptist was the first Christian missionary with a very considerable class of living Baptists; the birth of Christ is the most popular and orthodox theory at the respective meridians of Lutheranism, Calvinism, and Arminianism. But, by the more intelligent, the resurrection, or the ascension of the Lord Jesus Christ, is generally regarded as the definite commencement of the Christian age or institution. Give us Paul's or Peter's testimony, against that of all theologians, living or dead. Let us look at the facts. Did not the Savior teach His personal pupils, or disciples, to pray, "Thy kingdom"--more truthfully, "Thy reign--come"? Does any king's reign or kingdom commence with his birth? Still less with his death? Did not our Savior Himself, in person, decline the honors of a worldly or temporal prince? Did He not declare that His kingdom "is not of this world"? Did He not say that He was going hence, or leaving this world, to receive or obtain a kingdom? And were not the keys of the kingdom first given to Peter to open, to announce it? And did he not, when in Jerusalem, on the first Pentecost, after the ascension of the Lord Jesus, make a public proclamation, saying, "Let all the house of Israel know assuredly that God has made (or constituted) the identical Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Mary, both the Lord and the Christ, or the anointed Lord"? Do kings reign before they are crowned? Before they are anointed? There was not a Christian Church on earth, or any man called a Christian, until after the consecration and coronation of Jesus of Nazareth as the Christ of God. The era of a son's birth was never, since the world began, the era of his reign or of the commencement of it. It is a strange fact, to me a wonderful fact, and, considering the age in which we live, an overwhelming fact, that we, as a community, are the only people on the checkered map of all Christendom, Greek, Roman, Anglican or American, that preach and teach that the commonly called Christian era is not the era or the commencement of the Christian Church or kingdom of the Lord Jesus the Christ. The kingdom of the Christ could not antedate His coronation. Hence Peter, in announcing His coronation, after His ascension, proclaimed, saying, "Let all the house of Israel know assuredly that God has made--_touton ton Ieesoun_--the same, the identical Jesus whom you have crucified, both Lord and Christ"; or, in other words, has crowned Him the legitimate Lord of all. Then indeed His reign began. Then was verified the oracle uttered by the royal bard of Israel, "Jehovah said to my Jehovah"--or, "the Lord said to my Lord,"--"Sit thou on my right hand till I make thy foes thy footstool." Hence He could say, and did say, to His apostles, "All authority in the heavens and on the earth is given to me." In pursuance thereof, "Go you into all the world, proclaim the gospel to the whole creation; assuring them that everyone who believes this proclamation and is immersed into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, shall be saved." Here, then, the missionary field is declared to be the whole world--the broad earth. They were, as we are afterwards informed, to begin at the first capital in the land of Judea, then to proceed to Samaria, the capital of the ten tribes, and thence to the last domicile of man on earth. There was, and there is still, in all this arrangement, a gracious and a glorious propriety. The Jews had murdered the Messiah under the false charge of an impostor. Was it not, then, divinely grand and supremely glorious to make this awfully bloodstained capital the beginning, the fountain, of the gospel age and mission? Hence it was decreed that all the earth should be the parish, and all the nations and languages of earth the objects, and millions of them the subjects, of the redeeming grace and tender mercies of our Savior and our God. What an extended and still extending area is the missionary field! There are the four mighty realms of Pagandom, of Papaldom, of Mohammedandom and of ecclesiastic Sectariandom. These are, one and all, essentially and constitutionally, more or less, not of the apostolic Christendom. The divinely inspired constitution of the Church contains only seven articles. These are the seven hills, not of Rome, but of the true Zion of Israel's God. Paul's summary of them is found in the following words: "One body, one spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father of all." The clear perception, the grateful reception, the cordial entertainment of these seven divinely constructed and instituted pillars, are the alone sufficient, and the all-sufficient, foundation--the indestructible basis--of Christ's kingdom on this earth, and of man's spiritual and eternal salvation in the full enjoyment of himself, his Creator, his Redeemer, and the whole universe of spiritual intelligence through all the circles and the cycles of an infinite, an everlasting future of being and of blessedness. The missionary spirit is, indeed, an emanation of the whole Godhead. God the Father sent His Son, His only begotten Son, into our world. The Son sent the Holy Spirit to bear witness through His twelve missionaries, the consecrated and Heaven-inspired apostles. They proclaimed the glad tidings of great joy to all people--to the Jews, to the Samaritans, to the Gentiles, of all nations, kindreds and tongues. They gave in solemn charge to others to sound out and proclaim the glad tidings of great joy to all people. And need we ask, is not the Christian Church itself, in its own institution and constitution, virtually and essentially a missionary institution? Does not Paul formally state to the Thessalonians in his first epistle that from them sounded out the Word of the Lord not only in Macedonia and in Achaia, but in every place? No man can really or truthfully enjoy the spiritual, the soul-stirring, the heart-reviving honors and felicities of the Christian institution and kingdom, who does not intelligently, cordially and efficiently espouse the missionary cause. In other words, he must feel, he must have compassion for his fellow man; and, still further, he must practically sympathize with him in communicating to his spiritual necessities as well as to his physical wants and infirmities. The true ideal of all perfection--our blest and blissful Redeemer--went about continually doing good--to both the souls and the bodies of his fellow men; healing all that were, in body, soul or spirit, opprest by Satan, the enemy of God and of man. To follow his example is the grand climax of humanity. It is not necessary to this end that he should occupy the pulpit. There are, as we conceive, myriads of Christian men in the private walks of life, who never aspired to the "sacred desk," that will far outshine, in eternal glory and blessedness, hosts of the reverend, the boasted and the boastful right reverend occupants of the sacred desks of this our day and generation. But Solomon has furnished our motto:--"He that winneth" or taketh "souls is wise" (Prov. xi. 30). Was he not the wisest of men, the most potent and the richest of kings, that ever lived? He had, therefore, all the means and facilities of acquiring what we call knowledge--the knowledge of men and things; and, consequently, the value of men and things was legitimately within the area of his understanding; or, in this case, we might prefer to say, with all propriety, within the area of his comprehension. Need I say that comprehension incomparably transcends apprehension? Simpletons may apprehend, but only wise men can comprehend anything. Solomon's rare gift was, that both his apprehension and his comprehension transcended those of all other men, and gave him a perspicacity and promptitude of decision never before or since possest by any man. His oracles, indeed, were the oracles of God. But God especially gave to him a power and opportunity of making one grand experiment and development for the benefit of his living contemporaries, and of all posterity, to whom God presents his biography, his Proverbs and his Ecclesiastes. "The winning of souls" is, therefore, the richest and best business, trade or calling, according to Solomon, ever undertaken or prosecuted by mortal man. Paul was fully aware of this, and therefore had always in his eye a "triple crown"--"a crown of righteousness," a "crown of life," a "crown of glory." And even in this life he had "a crown of rejoicing," in prospect of an exceeding and eternal weight of glory, imperishable in the heavens. There is, too, a present reward, a present pleasure, a present joy and peace which the wisdom, and the riches, and the dignity, and the glory, and the honors of this world never did, never can, and consequently never will, confer on its most devoted and persevering votaries. There is, indeed, a lawful and an honorable covetousness, which any and every Christian, man and woman, may cultivate and cherish. Paul himself justifies the poetic license, when he says, "Covet earnestly the best gifts." The best gifts in his horizon, however, were those which, when duly cultivated and employed, confer the greatest amount of profit and felicity upon others. We should, indeed, desire, even covet, the means and the opportunities of beatifying and aggrandizing one another with the true riches, the honors and the dignities that appertain to the spiritual, the heavenly and the eternal inheritance. But we need not propound to your consideration or inquiry the claims--the paramount, the transcendent claims--which our enjoyment of the gospel and its soul-cheering, soul-animating, soul-enrapturing influences present to us as arguments and motives to extend and to animate its proclamation by every instrumentality and means which we can legitimately employ, to present it in all its attractions and claims upon the understanding, the conscience and the affections of our contemporaries, in our own country and in all others, as far as our most gracious and bountiful Benefactor affords the means and the opportunities of co-operating with Him, in the rescue and recovery of our fellow men, who, without such means and efforts, must forever perish, as aliens and enemies, in heart and in life, to God and to His divinely-commissioned ambassador, the glorious Messiah. We plead for the original apostolic gospel and its positive institutions. If the great apostles Peter and Paul--the former to the Jews and the latter to the Gentiles--announced the true gospel of the grace of God, shall we hesitate a moment on the propriety and the necessity, divinely imposed upon us, of preaching the same gospel which they preached, and in advocating the same institutions which they established, under the plenary inspiration and direction of the Holy Spirit? Can we improve upon their institutions and enactments? What means that singular imperative enunciated by the evangelical prophet Isaiah (Isa. viii.), "Bind up the testimony, seal the law among my disciples?" What were its antecedents? Hearken! The prophet had just foretold. He, the subject of this oracle, viz: "The desire of all nations," was coming to be a sanctuary; but not a sanctuary alone, but for a stone of stumbling and a rock of offense (as at this day) to both the houses of Israel--for a gin and for a snare to the inhabitants of Jerusalem. The Church, therefore, of right is, and ought to be, a great missionary society. Her parish is the whole earth, from sea to sea, and from the Euphrates to the last domicile of man. But the crowning and consummating argument of the missionary cause has not been fully presented. There is but one word, in the languages of earth, that fully indicates it. And that word indicates neither less nor more than what is represented--literally, exactly, perspicuously represented--by the word philanthropy. But this being a Greek word needs, perhaps in some cases, an exact definition. And to make it memorable we will preface it with the statement of the fact that this word is found but twice in the Greek original New Testament (Acts xxviii., 2, and Titus iii., 4.). In the first passage this word is, in the common version, translated "kindness," and in the second, "love toward man." Literally and exactly, it signifies the love of man, objectively; but, more fully exprest, the love of one to another. The love of God to man is one form of philanthropy; the love of angels to one man is another form of philanthropy; and the love of man to man, as such, is the true philanthropy of the law. It is not the love of one man to another man, because of favors received from him; this is only gratitude. It is not the love of one man to another man, because of a common country: this is mere patriotism. It is not the love of man to man, because of a common ancestry: this is mere natural affection. But it is the love of man to man, merely because he is a man. This is pure philanthropy. Such was the love of God to man as exhibited in the gift of His dearly beloved Son as a sin-offering for him. This is the name which the inspired writers of the New Testament give it. So Paul uses it, Titus iii. and iv. It should have been translated, "After that the kindness and philanthropy of God our Savior appeared." Again, Acts xxviii., 2, "The barbarous people of the Island of Melita showed us no little philanthropy.[3] They kindled a fire for us on their island, because of the impending rain and the cold." [3] So we have always translated this term, in this passage. There are, indeed, many forms and demonstrations of philanthropy. For one good man another good man might presume to die. But the philanthropy of God to man incomparably transcends all other forms of philanthropy known on earth or reported from heaven. While we were sinners, in positive and actual rebellion against our Father and our God, He freely gave up His only begotten and dearly beloved Son, as a sin-offering for us, and laid upon Him, or placed in His account, the sin, the aggregate sin, of the world. He became in the hand of His Father and our Father a sin-offering for us. He took upon Himself, and His Father "laid upon him, the iniquity of us all." Was ever love like this? Angels of all ranks, spirits of all capacities, still contemplate it with increasing wonder and delight. This gospel message is to be announced to all the world, to men of every nation under heaven. And this, too, with the promise of the forgiveness of sins and of a life everlasting in the heavens, to everyone who will cordially accept and obey it. IRVING PREPARATION FOR CONSULTING THE ORACLES OF GOD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE EDWARD IRVING was born at Annan, Dumfriesshire, Scotland, in 1792. He was an early friend and lover of Jane Welsh, who afterwards married Thomas Carlyle. He showed ability at school, but had also a taste for the preaching of extreme Presbyterian seceders from the Church of Scotland. After graduating at the University of Edinburgh, in 1809, he began life by teaching school, but obtained a license to preach in 1815. He became assistant to Chalmers at Glasgow in 1819, where, great preacher as he was, he felt himself eclipsed by Chalmers, and in 1822 accepted the pulpit at a chapel in Hatton Garden, London. Here he leapt into fame. His melodious and resonant voice, his noble presence and the beauty of his features, enhanced the eloquence of his language. Eventually he became unbalanced by the adulation of the aristocratic and intellectual crowd that listened to him. They, however, grew tired of his prophecies and denunciations, and his eccentricities of judgment finally led to disruption, and "after a few years of futile but splendid evangelization, he died a broken-hearted man, tender and true to the last, altho the victim of unsubstantial religious vagaries." Carlyle wrote a touching memoir of his life. He died in 1834. IRVING 1792-1834 PREPARATION FOR CONSULTING THE ORACLES OF GOD _Search the scriptures._--John v., 39. There was a time when each revelation of the word of God had an introduction into this earth, which neither permitted men to doubt whence it came, nor wherefore it was sent. If at the giving of each several truth a star was not lighted up in heaven, as at the birth of the Prince of Truth, there was done upon the earth a wonder, to make her children listen to the message of their Maker. The Almighty made bare His arm; and, through mighty acts shown by His holy servants, gave demonstration of His truth, and found for it a sure place among the other matters of human knowledge and belief. But now the miracles of God have ceased, and nature, secure and unmolested, is no longer called on for testimonies to her Creator's voice. No burning bush draws the footsteps to His presence chamber; no invisible voice holds the ear awake; no hand cometh forth from the obscurity to write His purposes in letters of flame. The vision is shut up, and the testimony is sealed, and the Word of the Lord is ended, and this solitary volume, with its chapters and verses, is the sum total of all for which the chariot of heaven made so many visits to the earth, and the Son of God Himself tabernacled and dwelt among us. The truth which it contains once dwelt undivulged in the bosom of God; and, on coming forth to take its place among things revealed, the heavens and the earth, and nature, through all her chambers, gave reverent welcome. Beyond what it contains, the mysteries of the future are unknown. To gain it acceptation and currency, the noble company of martyrs testified unto the death. The general assembly of the first-born in heaven made it the day-star of their hopes, and the pavilion of their peace. Its every sentence is charmed with the power of God, and powerful to the everlasting salvation of souls. Having our minds filled with these thoughts of the primeval divinity of revealed wisdom when she dwelt in the bosom of God, and was of His eternal Self a part, long before He prepared the heavens, or set a compass upon the face of the deep; revolving also how, by the space of four thousand years, every faculty of mute nature did solemn obeisance to this daughter of the Divine mind, whenever He pleased to commission her forth to the help of mortals; and further meditating upon the delights which she had of old with the sons of men, the height of heavenly temper to which she raised them, and the offspring of magnanimous deeds which these two--the wisdom of God, and the soul of man--did engender between themselves--meditating, I say, upon these mighty topics, our soul is smitten with grief and shame to remark how in this latter day she hath fallen from her high estate; and fallen along with her the great and noble character of men. Or, if there be still a few names, as of the missionary martyr, to emulate the saints of old--how to the commonalty of Christians her oracles have fallen into a household commonness, and her visits into a cheap familiarity; while by the multitude she is mistaken for a minister of terror sent to oppress poor mortals with moping melancholy, and inflict a wound upon the happiness of human kind. For there is now no express stirring up the faculties to meditate her high and heavenly strains--there is no formal sequestration of the mind from all other concerns, on purpose for her special entertainment--there is no house of solemn seeking and solemn waiting for a spiritual frame, before entering and listening to the voice of the Almighty's wisdom. Who feels the sublime dignity there is in a saying, fresh descended from the porch of heaven? Who feels the awful weight there is in the least iota that hath dropped from the lips of God? Who feels the thrilling fear or trembling hope there is in words whereon the destinies of himself do hang? Who feels the swelling tide of gratitude within his breast, for redemption and salvation, instead of flat despair and everlasting retribution? Yea, that which is the guide and spur of all duty, the necessary aliment of Christian life, the first and the last of Christian knowledge and Christian feeling, hath, to speak the best, degenerated in these days to stand, rank and file, among those duties whereof it is parent, preserver, and commander. And, to speak not the best, but the fair and common truth, this book, the offspring of the Divine mind, and the perfection of heavenly wisdom, is permitted to lie from day to day, perhaps from week to week, unheeded and unperused, never welcome to our happy, healthy, and energetic moods; admitted, if admitted at all, in seasons of sickness, feeble-mindedness, and disabling sorrow. Yes, that which was sent to be a spirit of ceaseless joy and hope within the heart of man, is treated as the enemy of happiness, and the murderer of enjoyment; and eyed askance, as the remembrancer of death, and the very messenger of hell. Oh! if books had but tongues to speak their wrongs, then might this book well exclaim: Hear, O heavens! and give ear, O earth! I came from the love and embrace of God, and mute nature, to whom I brought no boon, did me rightful homage. To men I come, and my words were to the children of men. I disclosed to you the mysteries hereafter, and the secrets of the throne of God. I set open to you the gates of salvation, and the way of eternal life, hitherto unknown. Nothing in heaven did I withhold from your hope and ambition; and upon your earthly lot I poured the full horn of Divine providence and consolation. But ye requited me with no welcome, ye held no festivity on my arrival; ye sequester me from happiness and heroism, closeting me with sickness and infirmity: ye make not of me, nor use me for, your guide to wisdom and prudence, but put me into a place in your last of duties, and withdraw me to a mere corner of your time; and most of ye set me at naught and utterly disregard me. I come, the fulness of the knowledge of God; angels delighted in my company, and desired to dive into my secrets. But ye, mortals, place masters over me, subjecting me to the discipline and dogmatism of men, and tutoring me in your schools of learning. I came, not to be silent in your dwellings, but to speak welfare to you and to your children. I came to rule, and my throne to set up in the hearts of men. Mine ancient residence was the bosom of God; no residence will I have but the soul of an immortal; and if you had entertained me, I should have possest you of the peace which I had with God, "when I was with Him and was daily His delight, rejoicing always before Him. Because I have called you and ye have refused, I have stretched out my hand and no man regarded; but ye have set at naught all my counsel and would none of my reproof; I also will laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind, when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they cry upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me." From this cheap estimation and wanton neglect of God's counsel, and from the terror of the curse consequent thereon, we have resolved, in the strength of God, to do our endeavor to deliver this congregation of His intelligent and worshiping people--an endeavor which we make with a full perception of the difficulties to be overcome on every side, within no less than without the sacred pale; and upon which we enter with the utmost diffidence of our powers, yet with the full purpose of straining them to the utmost, according to the measure with which it hath pleased God to endow our mind. And do Thou, O Lord, from whom cometh the perception of truth, vouchsafe to Thy servant an unction from Thine own Spirit, who searcheth all things, yes, the deep things of God; and vouchsafe to Thy people "the hearing ear and the understanding heart, that they may hear and understand, and their souls may live!" Before the Almighty made His appearance upon Sinai, there were awful precursors sent to prepare His way; while He abode in sight, there were solemn ceremonies and a strict ritual of attendance; when He departed, the whole camp set itself to conform unto His revealed will. Likewise, before the Savior appeared, with His better law, there was a noble procession of seers and prophets, who decried and warned the world of His coming; when He came there were solemn announcements in the heavens and on the earth; He did not depart without due honors; and then followed, on His departure, a succession of changes and alterations which are still in progress, and shall continue in progress till the world's end. This may serve to teach us, that a revelation of the Almighty's will makes demand for these three things, on the part of those to whom it is revealed: A due preparation for receiving it; a diligent attention to it while it is disclosing; a strict observance of it when it is delivered. In the whole book of the Lord's revelations you shall search in vain for one which is devoid of these necessary parts. Witness the awestruck Isaiah, while the Lord displayed before him the sublime pomp of His presence; and, not content with overpowering the frail sense of the prophet, dispatched a seraph to do the ceremonial of touching his lip with hallowed fire, all before He uttered one word into his astonished ear. Witness the majestic apparition to Saint John, in the Apocalypse, of all the emblematical glory of the Son of Man, allowed to take silent effect upon the apostle's spirit, and prepare it for the revelation of things to come. These heard with all their absorbed faculties, and with all their powers addrest them to the bidding of the Lord. But, if this was in aught flinched from, witness, in the persecution of the prophet Jonah, the fearful issues which ensued. From the presence of the Lord he could not flee. Fain would he have escaped to the uttermost parts of the earth; but in the mighty waters the terrors of the Lord fell upon him; and when engulfed in the deep, and entombed in the monster of the deep, still the Lord's word was upon the obdurate prophet, who had no rest, not the rest of the grave, till he had fulfilled it to the very uttermost. Now, judging that every time we open the pages of this holy book, we are to be favored with no less than a communication from on high, in substance the same as those whereof we have detailed the three distinct and several parts, we conceive it due to the majesty of Him who speaks, that we, in like manner, discipline our spirits with a due preparation, and have them in proper frame, before we listen to the voice; that, while it is disclosing to us the important message, we be wrapt in full attention; and that, when it hath disburdened itself into our opened and enlarged spirits, we proceed forthwith to the business of its fulfilment, whithersoever and to whatsoever it summon us forth. Upon each of these three duties, incumbent upon one who would not forego the benefit of a heavenly message, we will discourse apart, addressing ourselves in this discourse to the first-mentioned of the three. The preparation for the announcement.--"When God uttereth His voice," says the Psalmist, "coals of fire are kindled; the hills melt down like wax; the earth quakes; and deep proclaims itself unto hollow deep." These sensible images of the Creator have now vanished, and we are left alone, in the deep recesses of the meditative mind, to discern His coming forth. No trump of heaven now speaketh in the world's ear. No angelic conveyance of Heaven's will taketh shape from the vacant air; and having done his errand, retireth into his airy habitation. No human messenger putteth forth his miraculous hand to heal nature's unmedicable wounds, winning for his words a silent and astonished audience. Majesty and might no longer precede the oracles of Heaven. They lie silent and unobtrusive, wrapt up in their little compass, one volume among many, innocently handed to and fro, having no distinction but that in which our mustered thoughts are enabled to invest them. The want of solemn preparation and circumstantial pomp, the imagination of the mind hath now to supply. The presence of the Deity, and the authority of His voice, our thoughtful spirits must discern. Conscience must supply the terrors that were wont to go before Him; and the brightness of His coming, which the sense can no longer behold, the heart, ravished with His word, must feel. For the solemn vocation of all her powers, to do her Maker honor and give Him welcome, it is, at the very least, necessary that the soul stand absolved from every call. Every foreign influence or authority arising out of the world, or the things of the world, should be burst when about to stand before the fountain of all authority; every argument, every invention, every opinion of man forgot, when about to approach to the Father and oracle of all intelligence. And as subjects, when their honors, with invitations, are held disengaged, tho preoccupied with a thousand appointments, so, upon an audience, fixt and about to be holden with the King of Kings, it will become the honored mortal to break loose from all thraldom of men and things, and be arrayed in liberty of thought and action to drink in the rivers of His pleasure, and to perform the mission of His lips. Now far otherwise it hath appeared to us, that Christians as well as worldly men come to this most august occupation of listening to the word of God; preoccupied and prepossest, inclining to it a partial ear, and straitened understanding, and a disaffected will. The Christian public are prone to preoccupy themselves with the admiration of those opinions by which they stand distinguished as a Church or sect from other Christians, and instead of being quite unfettered to receive the whole counsel of the Divinity, they are prepared to welcome it no further than it bears upon, and stands with opinions which they already favor. To this pre-judgment the early use of catechisms mainly contributes, which, however serviceable in their place, have the disadvantage of presenting the truth in a form altogether different from what it occupies in the world itself. In the one it is presented to the intellect chiefly (and in our catechisms to an intellect of a very subtle order), in the other it is presented more frequently to the heart, to the affections, to the emotions, to the fancy, and to all the faculties of the soul. In early youth, which is so applied to those compilations, an association takes place between religion and intellect, and a divorcement of religion from the other powers of the inner man. This derangement, judging from observation and experience, it is exceedingly difficult to put to rights in afterlife; and so it comes to pass, that in listening to the oracles of religion, the intellect is chiefly awake, and the better parts of the message--those which address the heart and its affections, those which dilate and enlarge our admiration of the Godhead, and those which speak to the various sympathies of our nature--we are, by the injudicious use of these narrow epitomes, disqualified to receive. In the train of these comes controversy with its rough voice and unmeek aspect, to disqualify the soul for a full and fair audience of its Maker's word. The points of the faith we have been called on to defend, or which are reputable with our party, assume, in our esteem, an importance disproportionate to their importance in the Word, which we come to relish chiefly when it goes to sustain them, and the Bible is hunted for arguments and texts of controversy, which are treasured up for future service. The solemn stillness which the soul should hold before his Maker, so favorable to meditation and rapt communion with the throne of God, is destroyed at every turn by suggestions of what is orthodox and evangelical--where all is orthodox and evangelical; the spirit of such readers becomes lean, being fed with abstract truths and formal propositions; their temper uncongenial, being ever disturbed with controversial suggestions; their prayers undevout recitals of their opinions; their discourse technical announcements of their faith. Intellect, old intellect, hath the sway over heavenward devotion and holy fervor. Man, contentious man, hath the attention which the unsearchable God should undivided have; and the fine, full harmony of heaven's melodious voice, which, heard apart, were sufficient to lap the soul in ecstasies unspeakable, is jarred and interfered with, and the heavenly spell is broken by the recurring conceits, sophisms, and passions of men. Now truly an utter degradation it is of the Godhead to have His word in league with that of man, or any council of men. What matter to me whether the Pope, or any work of any mind, be exalted to the quality of God? If any helps are to be imposed for the understanding, or safeguarding, or sustaining of the word, why not the help of statues and pictures of my devotions? Therefore, while the warm fancies of the Southerns have given their idolatry to the ideal forms of noble art, let us Northerns beware we give not our idolatry to the cold and coarse abstractions of human intellect. For the preoccupations of worldly minds, they are not to be reckoned up, being manifold as their favorite passions and pursuits. One thing only can be said, that before coming to the oracles of God they are not preoccupied with the expectation and fear of Him. No chord in their heart is in unison with things unseen; no moments are set apart for religious thought and meditation; no anticipations of the honored interview; no prayer of preparation like that of Daniel before Gabriel was sent to teach him; no devoutness like that of Cornelius before the celestial visitation; no fastings like that of Peter before the revelation of the glory of the Gentiles! Now to minds which are not attuned to holiness, the words of God find no entrance, striking heavy on the ear, seldom making way to the understanding, almost never to the heart. To spirits hot with conversation, perhaps heady with argument, uncomposed by solemn thought, but ruffled and in uproar from the concourse of worldly interests, the sacred page may be spread out, but its accents are drowned in the noise which hath not yet subsided in the breast. All the awe, and pathos, and awakened consciousness of a Divine approach, imprest upon the ancients by the procession of solemnities, is to worldly men without a substitute. They have not yet solicited themselves to be in readiness. In a usual mood and vulgar frame they come to God's word as to other compositions, reading it without any active imaginations about Him who speaks; feeling no awe of a sovereign Lord, nor care of a tender Father, nor devotion to a merciful Savior. Nowise deprest themselves out of their wonted dependence, nor humiliated before the King of Kings--no prostrations of the soul, nor falling at His feet as dead--no exclamation, as of Isaiah, "Wo is me, for I am of unclean lips!"--no request "Send me"--nor fervent ejaculation of welcome, as of Samuel, "Lord, speak, for Thy servant heareth!" Truly they feel toward His word much as to the word of an equal. No wonder it shall fail of happy influence upon the spirits which have, as it were, on purpose, disqualified themselves for its benefits by removing from the regions of thought and feeling which it accords with, into other regions, which it is of too severe dignity to affect, otherwise than with stern menace and direful foreboding! If they would have it bless them and do them good, they must change their manner of approaching it, and endeavor to bring themselves into that prepared, and collected, and reverential frame which becomes an interview with the High and Holy One who inhabiteth the praises of eternity. Having thus spoken without equivocation, and we hope without offense, to the contradictoriness and preoccupation with which Christians and worldly men are apt to come to the perusal of the Word of God, we shall now set forth the two master-feelings under which we shall address ourselves to the sacred occupation. It is a good custom, inherited from the hallowed days of Scottish piety, and in our cottages still preserved, tho in our cities generally given up, to preface the morning and evening worship of the family with a short invocation of blessing from the Lord. This is in unison with the practise and recommendation of pious men, never to open the Divine Word without a silent invocation of the Divine Spirit. But no address to heaven is of any virtue, save as it is the expression of certain pious sentiments with which the mind is full and overflowing. Of those sentiments which befit the mind that comes into conference with its Maker, the first and most prominent should be gratitude for His ever having condescended to hold commerce with such wretched and fallen creatures. Gratitude not only expressing itself in proper terms, but possessing the mind with one abiding and over-mastering mood, under which it shall sit imprest the whole duration of the interview. Such an emotion as can not utter itself in language--tho by language it indicates its presence--but keeps us in a devout and adoring frame, while the Lord is uttering His voice. Go visit a desolate widow with consolation, and help, and fatherhood of her orphan children--do it again and again--and your presence, the sound of your approaching footstep, the soft utterance of your voice, the very mention of your name, shall come to dilate her heart with a fulness which defies her tongue to utter, but speaking by the tokens of a swimming eye, and clasped hands, and fervent ejaculations to heaven upon your head! No less copious acknowledgment of God, the author of our well-being, and the Father of our better hopes, ought we to feel when His Word discloseth to us the excess of His love. Tho a veil be now cast over the Majesty which speaks, it is the voice of the Eternal which we hear, coming in soft cadences to win our favor, yet omnipotent as the voice of the thunder, and overpowering as the rushing of many waters. And tho the evil of the future intervene between our hand and the promised goods, still are they from His lips who speaks, and it is done, who commands, and all things stand fast. With no less emotion, therefore, should this book be opened, than if, like him in the Apocalypse, you saw the voice which spake; or, like him in the trance, you were into the third heaven translated, companying and communing with the realities of glory which the eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived. Far and foreign from such an opened and awakened bosom is that cold and formal hand which is generally laid upon the sacred volume; that unfeeling and unimpressive tone with which its accents are pronounced; and that listless and incurious ear into which its blessed sounds are received. How can you, thus unimpassioned, hold communion with themes in which everything awful, vital, and endearing meet together? Why is not curiosity, curiosity ever hungry, on edge to know the doings and intentions of Jehovah, King of Kings? Why is not interest, interest ever awake, on tip-toe to hear the future destiny of itself? Why is not the heart, that panteth over the world after love and friendship, overpowered with the full tide of the divine acts and expressions of love? Where is nature gone when she is not moved with the tender mercy of Christ? Methinks the affections of men are fallen into the yellow leaf. Of the poets which charm the world's ear, who is he that inditeth a song unto his God? Some will tune their harps to sensual pleasure, and by the enchantment of their genius well-nigh commend their unholy themes to the imagination of saints. Others, to the high and noble sentiments of the heart, will sing of domestic joys and happy unions, casting around sorrow the radiancy of virtue, and bodying forth, in undying forms, the short-lived visions of joy! Others have enrolled themselves the high-priests of mute nature's charms, enchanting her echoes with their minstrelsy, and peopling her solitudes with the bright creatures of their fancy. But when, since the days of the blind master of English song, hath any poured forth a lay worthy of the Christian theme? Nor in philosophy, "the palace of the soul," have men been more mindful of their Maker. The flowers of the garden and the herbs of the field have their unwearied devotees, crossing the ocean, wayfaring in the desert, and making devout pilgrimages to every region of nature for offerings to their patron muse. The rocks, from their residences among the clouds to their deep rests in the dark bowels of the earth, have a bold and most venturous priesthood, who see in their rough and flinty faces a more delectable image to adore than in the revealed countenance of God. And the political warfare of the world is a very Moloch, who can at any time command his hecatomb of human victims. But the revealed suspense of God, to which the harp of David, and the prophetic lyre of Isaiah were strung, the prudence of God, which the wisest of men coveted after, preferring it to every gift which heaven could confer, and the eternal intelligence Himself in human form, and the unction of the Holy One which abideth--these the common heart of man hath forsaken, and refused to be charmed withal. I testify, that there ascendeth not from earth a hosanna of her children to bear witness in the ear of the upper regions to the wonderful manifestations of her God! From a few scattered hamlets in a small portion of her territory a small voice ascendeth, like the voice of one crying in the wilderness. But to the service of our general Preserver there is no concourse, from Dan unto Beersheba, of our people, the greater part of whom, after two thousand years of apostolic commission, have not the testimonials of our God; and the multitude of those who disrespect or despise them! But, to return from this lamentation, which may God hear, who doth not disregard the cries of His afflicted people! With the full sense of obligation to the giver, combine a humble sense of your own incapacity to value and to use the gift of His oracles. Having no taste whatever for the mean estimates which are made, and the coarse invectives that are vented, against human nature, which, tho true in the main, are often in the manner so unfeeling and triumphant, as to reveal hot zeal rather than tender and deep sorrow, we will not give in to this popular strain. And yet it is a truth by experience, revealed, that tho there be in man most noble faculties, and a nature restless after the knowledge and truth of things, there are toward God and His revealed will an indisposition and a regardlessness, which the most tender and enlightened consciences are the most ready to acknowledge. Of our emancipated youth, who, bound after the knowledge of the visible works of God, and the gratification of the various instincts of nature, how few betake themselves at all, how few absorb themselves with the study and obedience of the Word of God! And when, by God's visitation, we address ourselves to the task, how slow is our progress and how imperfect our performance! It is most true that nature is unwilling to the subject of the Scriptures. The soul is previously possest with adverse interests; the world hath laid an embargo on her faculties, and monopolized them to herself; old habit hath perhaps added to his almost incurable callousness; and the enemy of God and man is skilful to defend what he hath already won. So circumstanced, and every man is so circumstanced, we come to the audience of the Word of God, and listen in the worse tune than a wanton to a sermon, or a hardened knave to a judicial address. Our understanding is prepossest with a thousand idols of the world--religious or irreligious--which corrupt the reading of the Word into a straining of the text to their service, and when it will not strain, cause it to be skimmed, and perhaps despised or hated. Such a thing as a free and unlimited reception of all parts of the Scripture into the mind, is a thing most rare to be met with, and when met with will be found the result of many a sore submission of nature's opinions as well as of nature's likings. But the Word, as hath been said, is not for the intellect alone, but for the heart, and for the will. Now if any one be so wedded to his own candor as to think he doth accept the divine truth unabated, surely no one will flatter himself into the belief that his heart is attuned and enlarged for all divine commandments. The man who thus misdeems of himself must, if his opinions were just, be like a sheet of fair paper, unblotted and unwritten on; whereas all men are already occupied, to the very fulness, with other opinions and attachments and desires than the Word reveals. We do not grow Christians by the same culture by which we grow men, otherwise what need of divine revelation, and divine assistance? But being unacquainted from the womb with God, and attached to what is seen and felt, through early and close acquaintance, we are ignorant and detached from what is unseen and unfelt. The Word is a novelty to our nature, its truths fresh truths, its affections fresh affections, its obedience gathered from the apprehension of nature and the commerce of the worldly life. Therefore there needeth, in one that would be served from this storehouse opened by heaven, a disrelish of his old acquisitions, and a preference of the new, a simple, child-like teachableness, an allowance of ignorance and error, with whatever else beseems an anxious learner. Coming to the Word of God, we are like children brought into the conversations of experienced men; and we should humbly listen and reverently inquire; or we are like raw rustics introduced into high and polished life, and we should unlearn our coarseness, and copy the habits of the station; nay we are like offenders caught, and for the moment committed to the bosom of honorable society, with the power of regaining our lost condition and inheriting honor and trust--therefore we should walk softly and tenderly, covering our former reproach with modesty and humbleness, hasting to redeem our reputation by distinguished performances, against offense doubly guarded, doubly watchful for dangerous and extreme positions to demonstrate our recovered goodness. These two sentiments--devout veneration of God for His unspeakable gift, and deep distrust of our capacity to estimate and use it aright--will generate in the mind a constant aspiration after the guidance and instruction of a higher power; the first sentiment of goodness remembered, emboldening us to draw near to Him who first drew near to us, and who with Christ will not refuse us any gift; the second sentiment, of weakness remembered, teaching us our need, and prompting us by every interest of religion and every feeling of helplessness to seek of Him who hath said, "If any one lack wisdom let him ask God, who giveth liberally and upbraideth not." The soul which under these two master-feelings cometh to read, shall not read without profit. Every new revelation, feeding his gratitude and nourishing his former ignorance, will confirm the emotions he is under, and carry them onward to an unlimited dimension. Such a one will prosper in the way; enlargement of the inner man will be his portion and the establishment in the truth his exceeding great reward. "In the strength of the Lord shall his right hand get victory--even in the name of the Lord of Hosts. His soul shall also flourish with the fruits of righteousness from the seed of the word, which liveth and abideth forever." Thus delivered from prepossessions of all other masters, and arrayed in the raiment of humility and love, the soul should advance to the meeting of her God; and she should call a muster of her faculties and have all her poor grace in attendance, and anything she knows of His excellent works and exalted ways she should summon up to her remembrance; her understanding she should quicken, her memory refresh, her imagination stimulate, her affections cherish, and her conscience arouse. All that is within her should be stirred up, her whole glory should awake and her whole beauty display itself for the meeting of her King. As His hand-maiden she should meet Him; His own handiwork, tho sore defaced, yet seeking restoration; His humble, because offending, servant--yet nothing slavish, tho humble--nothing superstitious, tho devout--nothing tame, tho modest in her demeanor; but quick and ready, all addrest and wound up for her Maker's will. How different the ordinary proceeding of Christians, who, with timorous, mistrustful spirits, with an abeyance of intellect, and a dwarfish reduction of their natural powers, enter to the conference of the Word of God! The natural powers of man are to be mistrusted, doubtless, as the willing instruments of the evil one; but they must be honored also as the necessary instruments of the Spirit of God, whose operation is a dream, if it be not through knowledge, intellect, conscience, and action. Now Christians, heedless of the grand resurrection of the mighty instruments of thought and action, at the same time coveting hard after holy attainment, do often resign the mastery of themselves, and are taken into the counsel of the religious world--whirling around the eddy of some popular leader--and so drifted, I will not say from godliness, but drifted certainly from that noble, manly and independent course, which, under steerage of the Word of God, they might safely have pursued for the precious interests of their immortal souls. Meanwhile these popular leaders, finding no necessity for strenuous endeavors and high science in the ways of God, but having a gathering host to follow them, deviate from the ways of deep and penetrating thought--refuse the contest with the literary and accomplished enemies of the faith--bring a contempt upon the cause in which mighty men did formerly gird themselves to the combat--and so cast the stumbling-block of a mistaken paltryness between enlightened men and the cross of Christ! So far from this simple-mindedness (but its proper name is feeble-mindedness), Christians should be--as aforetime in this island they were wont to be--the princes of human intellect, the lights of the world, the salt of the political and social state. Till they come forth from the swaddling-bands, in which foreign schools have girt them, and walk boldly upon the high places of human understanding, they shall never obtain that influence in the upper regions of knowledge and power, of which, unfortunately, they have not the apostolic unction to be in quest. They will never be the master and commanding spirit of the time, until they cast off the wrinkled and withered skin of an obsolete old age, and clothe themselves with intelligence as with a garment, and bring forth the fruits of power and love and of a sound mind. Mistake us not, for we steer in a narrow, very narrow channel, with rocks of popular prejudice on every side. While we thus invocate to the reading of the Word, the highest strains of the human soul, mistake us not as derogating from the office of the Spirit of God. Far be it from any Christian, much further from any Christian pastor, to withdraw from God the honor which is everywhere His due; but there most of all His due where the human mind labored alone for thousands of years, and labored with no success--viz., the regeneration of itself, and its restoration to the last semblance of the divinity! Oh! let him be reverently inquired after, devoutly meditated on, and most thankfully acknowledged in every step of progress from the soul's fresh awakening out of her dark, oblivious sleep--even to her ultimate attainment upon earth and full accomplishment for heaven. And there may be a fuller choir of awakened men to advance His honor and glory here on earth, and hereafter in heaven above; let the saints bestir themselves like angels and the ministers of religion like archangels strong! And now at length let us have a demonstration made of all that is noble in thought, and generous in action, and devoted in piety, for bestirring this lethargy, and breaking the bonds of hell, and redeeming the whole world to the service of its God and King! ARNOLD ALIVE IN GOD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Thomas Arnold, schoolmaster and preacher, was born at West Cowes, Isle of Wight, in 1795. He was educated at Oxford, and after his graduation taught as fellow of Oriel College, until in 1820 he removed to Laleham near Haines and took pupils to prepare for the universities. In 1827 he was elected to the head mastership of Rugby, and took priest's orders before entering upon his duties. At Rugby he remained till his death in 1842. His great work as an educator consisted in teaching boys the duty of self-government, self-control and freedom of intellectual judgement. His sermons in the school chapel were distinguished by simplicity and profound moral and religious earnestness. ARNOLD 1795-1842 ALIVE IN GOD _God is not the God of the dead, but of the living._--Matt. xxii., 32. We hear these words as a part of our Lord's answer to the Sadducees; and as their question was put in evident profaneness, and the answer to it is one which to our minds is quite obvious and natural, so we are apt to think that in this particular story there is less than usual that particularly concerns us. But it so happens that our Lord in answering the Sadducees has brought in one of the most universal and most solemn of all truths,--which is indeed implied in many parts of the Old Testament, but which the Gospel has revealed to us in all its fulness,--the truth contained in the words of the text, that "God is not the God of the dead, but of the living." I would wish to unfold a little what is contained in these words which we often hear, even, perhaps, without quite understanding them, and many times oftener without fully entering into them. And we may take them, without fully entering into them. And we may take them, first, in their first part, where they say that "God is not the God of the dead." The word "dead," we know, is constantly used in Scripture in a double sense, as meaning those who are dead spiritually as well as those who are dead naturally. And in either sense the words are alike applicable: "God is not the God of the dead." God's not being the God of the dead signifies two things: that they who are without Him are dead, as well as that they who are dead are also without Him. So far as our knowledge goes respecting inferior animals they appear to be examples of this truth. They appear to us to have no knowledge of God; and we are not told that they have any other life than the short one of which our senses inform us. I am well aware that our ignorance of their condition is so great that we may not dare to say anything of them positively; there may be a hundred things true respecting them which we neither know nor imagine. I would only say that according to that most imperfect light in which we see them the two points of which I have been speaking appear to meet in them: we believe that they have no consciousness of God, and we believe that they will die. And so far, therefore, they afford an example of the agreement, if I may so speak, between these two points; and were intended, perhaps, to be to our view a continual image of it. But we had far better speak of ourselves. And here, too, it is the case that "God is not the God of the dead." If we are without Him we are dead, and if we are dead we are without Him; in other words, the two ideas of death and absence from God are in fact synonymous. Thus, in the account given of the fall of man, the sentence of death and of being cast out of Eden go together; and if any one compares the description of the second Eden in the Revelation, and recollects how especially it is there said that God dwells in the midst of it, and is its light by day and night, he will see that the banishment from the first Eden means a banishment from the presence of God. And thus, in the day that Adam sinned he died; for he was cast out of Eden immediately, however long he may have moved about afterward upon the earth where God was not. And how very strong to the same point are the words of Hezekiah's prayer, "The grave cannot praise Thee, Death cannot celebrate Thee; they that go down into the pit cannot hope for Thy truth"; words which express completely the feeling that God is not the God of the dead. This, too, appears to be the sense generally of the expression used in various parts of the Old Testament, "Thou shalt surely die." It is, no doubt, left purposely obscure; nor are we ever told in so many words all that is meant by death; but, surely, it always implies a separation from God, and the being--whatever the notion may extend to--the being dead to Him. Thus, when David had committed his great sin and had expressed his repentance for it, Nathan tells him, "The Lord also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die"; which means most expressively, thou shalt not die to God. In one sense David died, as all men die; nor was he by any means freed from the punishment of his sin; he was not, in that sense, forgiven, but he was allowed still to regard God as his God; and therefore his punishments were but fatherly chastisements from God's hand, designed for his profit that he might be partaker of God's holiness. And thus altho Saul was sentenced to lose his kingdom, and altho he was killed with his sons on Mount Gilboa, yet I do not think that we find the sentence passed upon him, "Thou shalt surely die"; and therefore we have no right to say that God had ceased to be his God altho He visited him with severe chastisements and would not allow him to hand down to his sons the crown of Israel. Observe also the language of the eighteenth chapter of Ezekiel, where the expressions occur so often, "He shall surely live," and "He shall surely die." We have no right to refer these to a mere extension on the one hand, or a cutting short on the other, of the term of earthly existence. The promise of living long in the land or, as in Hezekiah's case, of adding to his days fifteen years, is very different from the full and unreserved blessing, "Thou shalt surely live." And we know, undoubtedly, that both the good and the bad to whom Ezekiel spoke died alike the natural death of the body. But the peculiar force of the promise and of the threat was, in the one case, Thou shalt belong to God; in the other, Thou shalt cease to belong to Him; although the veil was not yet drawn up which concealed the full import of those terms, "belonging to God," and "ceasing to belong to Him": nay, can we venture to affirm that it is fully drawn aside even now? I have dwelt on this at some length, because it really seems to place the common state of the minds of too many amongst us in a light which is exceedingly awful; for if it be true, as I think the Scripture implies, that to be dead and to be without God are precisely the same thing, then can it be denied that the symptoms of death are strongly marked upon many of us? Are there not many who never think of God or care about His service? Are there not many who live, to all appearance, as unconscious of His existence, as we fancy the inferior animals to be? And is it not quite clear that to such persons God cannot be said to be their God? He may be the God of heaven and earth, the God of the universe, the God of Christ's Church; but He is not their God, for they feel to have nothing at all to do with Him; and therefore, as He is not their God, they are, and must be according to the Scripture, reckoned among the dead. But God is the God "of the living." That is, as before, all who are alive live unto Him; all who live unto Him are alive. "God said, I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob"; and therefore, says our Lord, "Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob are not and cannot be dead." They cannot be dead, because God owns them: He is not ashamed to be called their God; therefore they are not cast out from Him; therefore, by necessity, they live. Wonderful, indeed, is the truth here implied, in exact agreement, as we have seen, with the general language of Scripture; that, as she who but touched the hem of Christ's garment was in a moment relieved from her infirmity, so great was the virtue which went out from Him; so they who are not cast out from God, but have anything whatever to do with Him, feel the virtue of His gracious presence penetrating their whole nature; because He lives, they must live also. Behold, then, life and death set before us; not remote (if a few years be, indeed, to be called remote), but even now present before us; even now suffered or enjoyed. Even now, we are alive unto God, or dead unto God; and, as we are either the one or the other, so we are, in the highest possible sense of the terms, alive or dead. In the highest possible sense of the terms; but who can tell what that highest possible sense of the terms is? So much has, indeed, been revealed to us, that we know now that death means a conscious and perpetual death, as life means a conscious and perpetual life. But greatly, indeed, do we deceive ourselves, if we fancy that, by having thus much told us, we have also risen to the infinite heights, or descended to the infinite depths, contained in those little words, life and death. They are far higher, and far deeper, than ever thought or fancy of man has reached to. But, even on the first edge of either, at the visible beginnings of that infinite ascent or descent, there is surely something which may give us a foretaste of what is beyond. Even to us in this mortal state, even to you, advanced but so short a way on your very earthly journey, life and death have a meaning: to be dead unto God, or to be alive to Him, are things perceptibly different. For, let me ask of those who think least of God, who are most separate from Him, and most without Him, whether there is not now actually, perceptibly, in their state, something of the coldness, the loneliness, the fearfulness of death? I do not ask them whether they are made unhappy by the fear of God's anger; of course they are not: for they who fear God are not dead to Him, nor He to them. The thought of Him gives them no disquiet at all; this is the very point we start from. But I would ask them whether they know what it is to feel God's blessing. For instance: we all of us have our troubles of some sort or other, our disappointments, if not our sorrows. In these troubles, in these disappointments,--I care not how small they may be,--have they known what it is to feel that God's hand is over them; that these little annoyances are but His fatherly correction; that He is all the time loving us, and supporting us? In seasons of joy, such as they taste very often, have they known what it is to feel that they are tasting the kindness of their heavenly Father, that their good things come from His hand and are but an infinitely slight foretaste of His love? Sickness, danger; I know that they come to many of us but rarely; but if we have known them, or at least sickness, even in its lighter form, if not in its graver,--have we felt what it is to know that we are in our Father's hands, that He is with us, and will be with us to the end; that nothing can hurt those whom He loves? Surely, then, if we have never tasted anything of this: if in trouble, or in joy, or in sickness, we are left wholly to ourselves to bear as we can and enjoy as we can; if there is no voice that ever speaks out of the heights and the depths around us to give any answer to our own; if we are thus left to ourselves in this vast world,--there is in this a coldness and a loneliness; and whenever we come to be, of necessity, driven to be with our own hearts alone, the coldness and the loneliness must be felt. But consider that the things which we see around us cannot remain with us nor we with them. The coldness and loneliness of the world, without God, must be felt more and more as life wears on; in every change of our own state, in every separation from or loss of a friend, in every more sensible weakness of our own bodies, in every additional experience of the uncertainty of our own counsels,--the deathlike feeling will come upon us more and more strongly: we shall gain more of that fearful knowledge which tells us that "God is not the God of the dead." And so, also, the blessed knowledge that He is the God "of the living" grows upon those who are truly alive. Surely He "is not far from every one of us." No occasion of life fails to remind those who live unto Him that He is their God and that they are His children. On light occasions or on grave ones, in sorrow and in joy, still the warmth of His love is spread, as it were, all through the atmosphere of their lives; they forever feel His blessing. And if it fills them with joy unspeakable even now, when they so often feel how little they deserve it; if they delight still in being with God, and in living to Him, let them be sure that they have in themselves the unerring witness of life eternal: God is the God of the living, and all who are with Him must live. Hard it is, I well know, to bring this home in any degree to the minds of those who are dead; for it is of the very nature of the dead that they can hear no words of life. But it has happened that, even whilst writing what I have just been uttering to you, the news reached me that one who two months ago was one of your number, who this very half-year has shared in all the business and amusements of this place, is passed already into that state where the meanings of the terms life and death are become fully revealed. He knows what it is to live unto God and what it is to die to Him. Those things which are to us unfathomable mysteries are to him all plain: and yet but two months ago he might have thought himself as far from attaining this knowledge as any of us can do. Wherefore it is clear that these things, life and death, may hurry their lesson upon us sooner than we deem of, sooner than we are prepared to receive it. And that were indeed awful, if, being dead to God, and yet little feeling it because of the enjoyments of our worldly life, those enjoyments were on a sudden to be struck away from us, and we should find then that to be dead to God was death indeed, a death from which there is no waking, and in which there is no sleeping forever. WAYLAND A DAY IN THE LIFE OF JESUS OF NAZARETH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Francis Wayland, preacher and philosopher, was born in New York, in 1796. He graduated at Union College in 1813 and in 1816 entered Hudson Theological Seminary. His first charge was the First Baptist Church in Boston. Here he established his reputation as an able and vigorous pulpit orator. Five years later he accepted a chair in Union College, but in 1827 entered upon an incumbency of twenty-eight years as President of Brown University, Providence. This institution he built up on a broad and liberal basis, quite emancipating it from narrow sectarianism. In 1855 he became pastor of the First Baptist Church in Providence and died in 1865. WAYLAND 1796-1865 A DAY IN THE LIFE OF JESUS OF NAZARETH _And the apostles, when they were returned, told him all that they had done. And he took them, and went aside privately into a desert place, belonging to the city called Bethsaida. And the people when they knew it, followed him: and he received them, and spake unto them of the kingdom of God, and healed them that had need of healing. And when the day began to wear away, then came the twelve, and said unto him, Send the multitude away, that they may go into the towns and country round about, and lodge and get victuals: for we are here in a desert place. But he said unto them, Give ye them to eat. And they said, We have no more but five loaves and two fishes; except we should go and buy meat for all this people. For they were about five thousand men. And he said to his disciples, Make them sit down by fifties in a company. And they did so, and made them all sit down. Then he took the five loaves and the two fishes and looking up to heaven, he blessed them and brake, and gave to the disciples to set before the multitude. And they did eat, and were all filled: and there was taken up of fragments that remained to them twelve baskets._--Luke ix., 10-17. It was the sagacious opinion of, I think, the late Professor Porson, that he would rather see a single copy of a daily newspaper of ancient Athens, than read all the commentaries upon the Grecian tragedies that have ever been written. The reason for this preference is obvious. A single sheet, similar to our daily newspapers, published in the time of Pericles, would admit us at once to a knowledge of the habits, manners, modes of opinion, political relations, social condition, and moral attainments of the people, such as we never could gain from the study of all the writers that have ever attempted to illustrate the nature of Grecian civilization. The same remark is true in respect to our knowledge of the character of individuals who have lived in a former age. What would we not, at the present day, give for a few pages of the private diary of Julius Cesar, or Cicero, or Brutus, or Augustus; or for the minute reminiscences of any one who had spent a few days in the company of either of these distinguished men? What a flood of life would the discovery of such a manuscript throw upon Roman life, but especially upon the private opinions, the motives, the aspirations, the moral estimates of the men whose names have become household words throughout the world! A few such pages might, perchance, dissipate the authority of many a bulky folio on which we now rely with implicit confidence. Not only would the characters of these heroes of antiquity stand out in bolder relief than they have ever done before, but the individuals themselves would be brought within the range of our personal sympathy; and we should seem to commune with them as we do with an intimate acquaintance. It is worthy of remark, that we are favored with a larger portion of this kind of information, respecting Jesus of Nazareth, than almost any other distinguished person that has ever lived. He left no writings Himself; hence all that we know of Him has been written by others. The narrators, however, were the personal attendants, and not the mere auditors or pupils of their master. The apostles were members of the family of Jesus; they traveled with Him, on foot, throughout the length and breadth of Palestine; they partook with Him of his frugal meals, and bore with Him the trial of hunger, weariness, and want of shelter; they followed Him through the lonely wilderness and the crowded street; they saw His miracles in every variety of form, and listened to His discourses in public as well as to His explanations in private. Hence their whole narrative is instinct with life; a vivid picture of Jewish manners and customs, rendered more definite and characteristic by the moral light which then, for the first time, shone upon it. Hence it is that these few pages are replete with moral lessons that never weary us in the perusal, and which have been the source of unfailing illumination to all succeeding ages. The verses which I have read, as the text of this discourse, may well be taken as an illustration of all that I have here said. They may, without impropriety, be styled a day in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. By observing the manner in which our blessed Lord spent a single day, we may form some conception of the kind of life which He ordinarily led; and we may, perchance, treasure up some lessons which it were well if we should exemplify in our daily practice. The place at which these events occurred was near the head of the Sea of Galilee, where it receives the waters of the upper Jordan. This was one of the Savior's favorite places of resort. Capernaum, Chorazin, and Bethsaida, all in this immediate vicinity, are always spoken of in the gospels as towns which enjoyed the largest share of His ministerial labors, and were distinguished most frequently with the honor of His personal presence. The scenery of the neighborhood is wild and romantic. To the north and west, the eye rests on the lofty summits of Lebanon and Hermon. To the south, there opens upon the view the blue expanse of the lake, enclosed by frowning rocks, which here and there jut over far into the waters, and then again retire towards the land, leaving a level beach to invite the labors of the fishermen. The people, removed at a considerable distance from the metropolis of Judea, cultivated those rural habits with which the simple tastes of the Savior would most readily harmonize. Near this spot was also one of the most frequented fords of the Jordan, on the road from Damascus to Jerusalem; and thus, while residing here, He enjoyed unusual facilities for disseminating throughout this whole region a knowledge of those truths which He came on earth to promulgate. Some weeks previous to the time in which the events spoken of in the text occurred, our Lord had sent His disciples to announce the approach of the kingdom of heaven, in all the cities and villages which He Himself proposed to visit. He conferred on them the power to work miracles, in attestation of their authority, and of the divine character of Him by whom they were sent. He imposed upon them strict rules of conduct, and directed them to make known to every one who would hear them the good news of the coming dispensation. As soon as He sent them forth, He Himself went immediately abroad to teach and to preach in their cities. As their Master and Lord, He might reasonably have claimed exemption from the personal toil and the rigid self-denials to which they were by necessity subjected. But He had laid no claim to such exemption. He commenced without delay the performance of the very same duties which He had imposed upon them. He felt himself under obligation to set an example of obedience to His own rules. "The Son of Man," said He, "came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give His life a ransom for many." "Which," said He, "is greater, he that sitteth at meat, or he that serveth? but I am among you as He that serveth." Would it not be well, if, in this respect, we copied more minutely the example of our Lord, and held ourselves responsible for the performance of the very same duties which we so willingly impose upon our brethren? We best prove that we believe an act obligatory, when we commence the performance of it ourselves. Many zealous Christians employ themselves in no other labor than that of urging their brethren to effort. Our Savior acted otherwise. In this respect, His example is specially to be imitated by His ministers. When they urge upon others a moral duty, they must be the first to perform it. When they inculcate an act of self-denial, they themselves must make the noblest sacrifice. Can we conceive of anything which could so much increase the moral power of the ministry, and rouse to a flame the dormant energy of the churches, as obedience to this teaching of Christ by the preachers of His gospel? It seems that the Savior had selected a well-known spot, at the head of the lake, for the place of meeting for his apostles, after this their first missionary tour had been completed. "The apostles gathered themselves unto Jesus, and told Him all things, both what they had done, and what they had taught." There is something delightful in this filial confidence which these simple-hearted men reposed in their almighty Redeemer. They told Him of their success and their failure, of their wisdom and their folly, of their reliance and their unbelief. We can almost imagine ourselves spectators of this meeting between Christ and them, after this their first separation from each other. The place appointed was most probably some well-known locality on the shore of the lake, under the shadow of its overhanging rocks, where the cool air from the bosom of the water refreshed each returning laborer, as he came back beaten out with the fatigues of travel, under the burning sun of Syria. You can imagine the joy with which each drew near to the Master, after this temporary absence; and the honest greetings with which every newcomer was welcomed by those who had chanced to arrive before him. We can seem to perceive the Savior of men listening with affectionate earnestness to the recital of their various adventures; and interposing, from time to time, a word either of encouragement or of caution, as the character and circumstances of each narrator required it. The bosom of each was unveiled before the Searcher of Hearts, and the consolation which each one needed was bestowed upon him abundantly. The toilsomeness of their journey was no longer remembered, as each one received from the Son of God the smile of His approbation. That was truly a joyful meeting. Of all that company there is not one who has forgotten that day; nor will he forget it ever. With unreserved frankness they told Jesus of all that they had done, and what they had taught; of all their acts, and all their conversations. Would it not be better for us, if we cultivated more assiduously this habit of intimate intercourse with the Savior? Were we every day to tell Jesus of all that we have done and said; did we spread before Him our joys and our sorrows, our faults and our infirmities, our successes and our failures, we should be saved from many an error and many a sin. Setting the Lord always before us, He would be on our right hand, and we should not be moved. "He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty." The Savior perceived that the apostles needed much instruction which could not be communicated in a place where both He and they were so well known. They had committed many errors, which He preferred to correct in private. By doing His will, they had learned to repose greater confidence in His wisdom, and were prepared to receive from Him more important instruction. But these lessons could not be delivered in the hearing of a promiscuous audience. Nor was this all. He perceived that the apostles were worn out with their labors, and needed repose. Surrounded as they were by the multitude, which had already begun to collect about them, rest and retirement were equally impossible. "There were many coming and going, and they had no leisure, even so much as to eat." He therefore said to them, "Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while." For this purpose, He "took ship, and crossed over with his disciples alone, and went into a desert place belonging to Bethsaida." The religion of Christ imposes upon us duties of retirement, as well as duties of publicity. The apostles had been for some time past before the eyes of all men, preaching and working miracles. Their souls needed retirement. "Solitude," said Cecil, "is my great ordinance." They would be greatly improved by private communion both with Him and with each other. It was for the purpose of affording them such a season of moral recreation, that our Lord withdrew them from the public gaze into a desert place. Nor was this all. Their labor for some weeks past had been severe. They had traveled on foot under a tropical sun, reasoning with unbelievers, instructing the ignorant, and comforting the cast-down. Called upon, at all hours, both of the day and night, to work cures on those that were opprest with diseases, their bodies, no less than their spirits, needed rest. Our Lord saw this, and He made provision for it. He withdrew them from labor, that they might find, tho it were but for a day, the repose which their exhausted natures demanded. The religion of Christ is ever merciful, and ever consistent in its benevolence. It is thoughtful of the benefactor as well as the recipient. It requires of us all labor and self-sacrifice, but to these it affixes a limit. It never commands us to ruin our health and enfeeble our minds by unnatural exhaustion. It teaches us to obey the laws of our physical organization, and to prepare ourselves for the labors of to-morrow by the judiciously conducted labors of to-day. It was on this principle that our Lord conducted His intercourse with His disciples. "He knew their frame, and remembered that they were dust." May we not from this incident derive a lesson of practical instruction? I well know that there are persons who are always sparing themselves, who, while it is difficult to tell what they do, are always complaining of the crushing weight of their labors, and who are rather exhausted with the dread of what they shall do, than with the experience of what they have actually done. It is not of those that we speak. Those who do not labor have no need of rest. It is to the honest, the painstaking, the laborious, that we address the example in the text. We sometimes meet with the industrious, self-denying servant of Christ, in feeble health, and with an exhausted nature, bemoaning his condition, and condemning himself because he can accomplish no more, while so much yet remains to be done. To such a one we may safely present the example of the blessed Savior. When His apostles had done to the utmost of their strength, altho the harvest was great, and the laborers few, He did not urge upon them additional labor, nor tell them that because there was so much to be done they must never cease from doing. No; He tells them to turn aside and rest for a while. It is as tho He had said, "Your strength is exhausted; you cannot be qualified for subsequent duty until you be refreshed. Economize, then, your power, that you may accomplish the more." The Savior addresses the same language to us now. When we are worn down in His service, as in any other, He would have us rest, not for the sake of self-indulgence, but that we may be the better prepared for future effort. We do nothing at variance with His will, when we, with a good conscience, use the liberty which he has thus conceded to us. Jesus, with His disciples, crossed the water, and entered the desert; that is, the sparsely inhabited country of Bethsaida. Desert, or wilderness, in the New Testament, does not mean an arid waste, but pasture land, forest, or any district to which one could retire for seclusion. Here, in the cool and tranquil neighborhood of the lake, he began to instruct His disciples, and, without interruption, make known to them the mysteries of the kingdom. It was one of those seasons that the Savior Himself rarely enjoyed. Everything tended to repose: the rustling leaves, the rippling waves, the song of the birds, heard more distinctly in this rural solitude, all served to calm the spirit ruffled by the agitations of the world, and prepared it to listen to the truths which unveil to us eternity. Here our Lord could unbosom Himself, without reserve, to His chosen few, and hold with them that communion which He was rarely permitted to enjoy during His ministry on earth. Soon, however, the whole scene is changed. The multitude, whom he had so recently left, having observed the direction in which He had gone, have discovered the place of His retreat. An immense crowd approaches, and the little company is surrounded by a dense mass of human beings pressing upon them on every side. These are, however, only the pioneers. At last, five thousand men, besides women and children, are beheld thronging around them. Some of these suitors present most importunate claims. They are in search of cure for diseases which have baffled the skill of the medical profession, and, as a last resort, they have come to the Messiah for aid. Here was a parent bringing a consumptive child. There were children bearing on a couch a paralytic parent. Here was a sister leading a brother blind from his birth, while her supplications were drowned by the shout of a frenzied lunatic who was standing by her side. Every one, believing his own claim to be the most urgent, prest forward with selfish importunity. Each one, caring for no other than himself, was striving to attain the front rank, while those behind, disappointed, and fearing to lose this important opportunity, were eager to occupy the places of those more fortunate than themselves. The necessary tumult and disorder of such a scene you can better imagine than I can describe. This was, doubtless, by no means a welcome interruption. The apostles needed the time for rest; for they were worn out in the public service. They wanted it for instruction; for such opportunities of intercourse with Christ were rare. But what did they do? Did our Lord inform the multitude that this day was set apart for their own refreshment and improvement, and that they could not be interrupted? As He beheld them approaching, did He quietly take to His boat, and leave them to go home disappointed? Did He plead His own convenience, or His need of repose, as any reason for not attending to the pressing necessities of His fellow men? No, my brethren, very far from it. That providence of God had brought these multitudes before Him, and that same providence forbade Him to send them away unblest. He at once broke up the conference with His disciples and addrest Himself to the work before Him. His instructions were of inestimable importance; but I doubt if even they were as important as the example of deep humility, exhaustless kindness, and affecting compassion which He here exhibited. When the Master places work before us which can be done at no other time, our convenience must yield to other men's necessities. "The Son of Man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister." You can imagine to yourself the Savior rising from His seat, in the midst of His disciples, and presenting Himself to the approaching multitudes. His calm dignity awes into silence this tumultuous gathering of the people. Those who came out to witness the tricks of an empiric, or listen to the ravings of a fanatic, find themselves, unexpectedly, in a presence that repels every emotion but that of profound veneration. The light-hearted and frivolous are awestruck by the unearthly majesty that seems to clothe the Messiah as with a garment. And yet it was a majesty that shone forth conspicuous, most of all, by the manifestation of unparalleled goodness. Every eye that met the eye of the Savior quailed before Him; for it looked into a soul that had never sinned; and the spirit of the sinner felt, for the first time, the full power of immaculate virtue. Thus the Savior passed among the crowd, and "healed all that had need of healing." The lame walked, the lepers were cleansed, the blind received their sight, the paralytic were restored to soundness, and the bloom of health revisited the cheeks of those that but just now were sick unto death. The work to be done for the bodies of men was accomplished, and there yet remained some hours of the summer's day unconsumed. The power and goodness displayed in this miraculous healing would naturally predispose the people to listen to the instructions of the Savior. This was too valuable an opportunity to be lost. Our Lord therefore proceeded to speak to them of the things concerning the kingdom of God. We can seem to perceive the Savior seeking an eminence from whence He could the more conveniently address this vast assembly. You hear Him unfold the laws of God's moral government. He unmasks the hypocrisy of the Pharisees; He rebukes the infidelity of the Sadducees; He exposes the folly of the frivolous, as well as of the selfish worldling; He speaks peaceably to the humble penitent; He encourages the meek, and comforts those that be cast down. The intellect and the conscience of this vast assembly are swayed at His will. The soul of man bows down in reverence in the presence of its Creator. "He stilleth the noise of the seas, the noise of their waves, and the tumult of the people." As He closes His address, every eye is moistened with compunction for sin. Every soul cherishes the hope of amendment. Every one is conscious that a new moral light has dawned upon his soul, and that a new moral universe has been unveiled to his spiritual vision. As the closing words of the Savior fell upon their ears, the whole multitude stood for a while unmoved, as tho transfixt to the earth by some mighty spell; until, at last, the murmur is heard from thousands of voices, "Never man spake like this man." But the shades of evening are gathering around them. The multitude have nothing to eat. To send them away fasting would be inhuman, for divers of them came from far, and many were women and children, who could not perform their journey homeward without previous refreshment. To purchase food in the surrounding towns and villages would be difficult; but even were this possible, whence could the necessary funds be provided? A famishing multitude was thus unexpectedly cast upon the bounty of our Lord. He had not tempted God by leading them into the wilderness. They came to Him of themselves, to hear His words and to be healed of their infirmities. He could not "send them away fasting, lest they should faint by the way." In this dilemma, what was to be done? He puts this question to His disciples, and they can suggest no means of relief. The little stock of provisions which they had brought with them was barely sufficient for themselves. They can perceive no means whatever by which the multitude can be fed, and they at once confess it. The Savior, however, commands the twelve to give them to eat. They produce their slender store of provisions, amounting to five loaves and two small fishes. He commands the multitude to sit down by companies on the grass. As soon as silence is obtained, He lifts up His eyes to heaven, and supplicates the blessing of God upon their scanty meal. He begins to break the loaves and fishes, and distribute them to His disciples, and His disciples distribute them to the multitude. He continues to break and distribute. Basket after basket is filled and emptied, yet the supply is undiminished. Food is carried in abundance to the famishing thousands. Company after company is supplied with food, but the five loaves and two fishes remain unexhausted. At last, the baskets are returned full, and it is announced that the wants of the multitude are supplied. The miracle then ceases, and the multiplication of food is at an end. But even here the provident care of the Savior is manifested. Altho this food has been so easily provided, it is not right that it be lightly suffered to perish. Christ wrought no miracles for the sake of teaching men wastefulness. That food, by what means soever provided, was a creature of God, and it were sin to allow it to decay without accomplishing the purposes for which it was created. "Gather up the fragments," said the Master of the feast, "that nothing be lost." "And they gathered up the fragments that remained, twelve baskets full." Dissimilar as are our circumstances to those of our Lord, we may learn from this latter incident a lesson of instruction. In the first place, as I have remarked, the Savior did not lead the multitude into the wilderness without making provision for their sustenance. This would have been presumption. They followed Him without His command, and He found Himself with them in this necessity. He had provided for His own wants, but they had not provided for theirs. The providence of God had, however, placed Him in His present circumstances, and He might therefore properly look to providence for deliverance. This event, then, furnishes the rule by which we are to be governed. When we plunge ourselves into difficulty, by a neglect of the means or by a misuse of the faculties which God has bestowed upon us, it is to be expected that He will leave us to our own devices. But when, in the honest discharge of our duties, we find ourselves in circumstances beyond the reach of human aid, we may then confidently look up to God for deliverance. He will always take care of us while we are in the spot where He has placed us. When He appoints for us trials, He also appoints for us the means of escape. The path of duty, tho it may seem arduous, is ever the path of safety. We can more easily maintain ourselves in the most difficult position, God being our helper, than in apparent security relying on our own strength. The Savior, in full reliance upon God, with only five loaves and two fishes, commenced the distribution of food amongst the vast multitude. Tho His whole store was barely sufficient to supply the wants of His immediate family, He began to share it with the thousands who surrounded Him. Small as was His provision at the commencement, it remained unconsumed until the deed of mercy was done, and the wants of the famished host supplied. Nor were the disciples losers by this act of charity. After the multitude had eaten and were satisfied, twelve baskets full of fragments remained, a reward for their deed of benevolence. From this portion of the narrative, we may, I think, learn that if we act in faith, and in the spirit of Christian love, we may frequently be justified in commencing the most important good work, even when in possession of apparently inadequate means. If the work be of God, He will furnish us with helpers as fast as they are needed. In all ages, God has rewarded abundantly simple trust in Him, and has bestowed upon it in the highest honor. We must, however, remember the conditions upon which alone we may expect His aid, lest we be led into fanaticism. The service which we undertake must be such as God has commanded, and His providence must either designate us for the work, or, at least, open the door by which we shall enter upon it. It must be God's work, and not our own; for the good of others, and not for the gratification of our own passions; and, in the doing of it, we must, first of all, make sacrifice of ourselves, and not of others. Under such circumstances, there is hardly a good design which we may not undertake with cheerful hopes of success, for God has promised us His assistance. "If God be for us, who can be against us?" The calculations of the men of this world are of small account in such a matter. It would have provoked the smile of an infidel to behold the Savior commencing the work of feeding five thousand men with a handful of provisions. But the supply increased as fast as it was needed, and it ceased not until all that He had prayed for was accomplished. Perhaps, also, we may learn from this incident another lesson. If I mistake not, it suggests to us that in works of benevolence we are accustomed to rely too much on human, and too little on divine, aid. When we attempt to do good, we commence by forming large associations, and suppose that our success depends upon the number of men whom we can unite in the promotion of our undertaking. Every one is apt thus to forget his own personal duty, and rely upon the labor of others, and it is well if he does not put his organization in the place of God Himself. Would it not be better if we made benevolence much more a matter between God and our own souls, each one doing with his own hands, in firm reliance on divine aid, the work which Providence has placed directly before him? Our Lord did not send to the villages round to organize a general effort to relieve the famishing. In reliance upon God, He set about to work Himself, with just such means as God had afforded Him. All the miracles of benevolence have, if I mistake not, been wrought in the same manner. The little band of disciples in Jerusalem accomplished more for the conversion of the world than all the Christians of the present day united. And why? Because every individual Christian felt that the conversion of the world was a work for which he himself, and not an abstraction that he called the Church, was responsible. Instead of relying on man for aid, every one looked up directly to God, and went forth to the work. God was thus exalted, the power was confest to be His own, and, in a few years, the standard of the Cross was carried to the remotest extremities of the then known world. Such has, I think, been the case ever since. Every great moral reformation has proceeded upon principles analogous of these. It was Luther, standing up alone in simple reliance upon God, that smote the Papal hierarchy; and the effects of that blow are now agitating the nations of Europe. Roger Williams, amid persecution and banishment, held forth that doctrine of soul-liberty which, in its onward march, is disenthralling a world. Howard, alone, undertook the work of showing mercy to the prisoner, and his example is now enlisting the choicest minds in Christendom in this labor of benevolence. Clarkson, unaided, a young man, and without influences, consecrated himself to the work of abolishing the slave trade; and, before he rested from his labor, his country had repented of and forsaken this atrocious sin. Raikes saw the children of Gloucester profaning the Sabbath day; he set on foot a Sabbath school on his own account, and now millions of children are reaping the benefit of his labors, and his example has turned the attention of the whole world to the religious instruction of the young. With such facts before us, we surely should be encouraged to attempt individually the accomplishment of some good design, relying in humility and faith upon Him who is able to grant prosperity to the feeblest effort put forth in earnest reliance on His almightiness. Such were the occupations that filled up a day in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. There was not an act done for Himself; all was done for others. Every hour was employed in the labor which that hour set before Him. Private kindness, the relief of distress, public teaching, and ministration to the wants of the famishing, filled up the entire day. Let His disciples learn to follow His example. Let us, like Him, forget ourselves, our own wants, and our own weariness, that we may, as he did, scatter blessings on every side, as we move onward in the pathway of our daily life. If such were the occupations of the Son of God, can we do more wisely than to imitate His example? Every disciple would then be as a city set upon a hill, and men, seeing our good works, would glorify our Father who is in heaven. "Then would our righteousness go forth as brightness, and our salvation as a lamp that burneth." VINET THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE ALEXANDER VINET, the eminent Swiss divine and author, was born at Ouchy, Canton, in 1797. He was professor of theology at Lausanne (1837-45), where he gained reputation as a preacher, a philosopher, and a writer. He was tolerant tho critical, and many of his utterances are marked by rare brilliancy. His supreme and intense faith led him to say: "The gospel is believed when it has ceased to be to us an external and has become an internal truth, when it has become a fact in our consciousness. Christianity is conscience raised to its highest exercise." He died in 1847. VINET 1797-1847 THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY _Things which have not entered into the heart of man._--1 Cor. ii., 9. "I do not comprehend, therefore I do not believe." "The gospel is full of mysteries, therefore I do not receive the gospel:"--such is one of the favorite arguments of infidelity. To see how much is made of this, and what confidence it inspires, we might believe it solid, or, at least, specious; but it is neither the one nor the other; it will not bear the slightest attention, the most superficial examination of reason; and if it still enjoys some favor in the world, this is but a proof of the lightness of our judgments upon things worthy of our most serious attention. Upon what, in fact, does this argument rest? Upon the claim of comprehending every thing in the religion which God has offered or could offer us--a claim equally unjust, unreasonable, useless. This we proceed to develop. 1. In the first place, it is an unjust claim. It is to demand of God what He does not owe us. To prove this, let us suppose that God has given a religion to man, and let us further suppose that religion to be the gospel: for this absolutely changes nothing to the argument. We may believe that God was free, at least, with reference to us, to give us or not to give us a religion; but it must be admitted that in granting it He contracts engagements to us, and that the first favor lays Him under a necessity of conferring other favors. For this is merely to say that God must be consistent, and that He finishes what He has begun. Since it is by a written revelation He manifests His designs respecting us, it is necessary He should fortify that revelation by all the authority which would at least determine us to receive it; it is necessary He should give us the means of judging whether the men who speak to us in His name are really sent by Him; in a word, it is necessary we should be assured that the Bible is truly the Word of God. It would not indeed be necessary that the conviction of each of us should be gained by the same kind of evidence. Some shall be led to Christianity by the historical or external arguments; they shall prove to themselves the truth of the Bible as the truth of all history is proved; they shall satisfy themselves that the books of which it is composed are certainly those of the times and of the authors to which they are ascribed. This settled, they shall compare the prophecies contained in these ancient documents with the events that have happened in subsequent ages; they shall assure themselves of the reality of the miraculous facts related in these books, and shall thence infer the necessary intervention of divine power, which alone disposes the forces of nature, and can alone interrupt or modify their action. Others, less fitted for such investigations, shall be struck with the internal evidence of the Holy Scriptures. Finding there the state of their souls perfectly described, their wants fully exprest, and the true remedies for their maladies completely indicated; struck with a character of truth and candor which nothing can imitate; in fine, feeling themselves in their inner nature moved, changed, renovated, by the mysterious influence of these holy writings, they shall acquire, by such means, a conviction of which they can not always give an account to others, but which is not the less legitimate, irresistible, and immovable. Such is the double road by which an entrance is gained into the asylum of faith. But it was due from the wisdom of God, from His justice, and, we venture to say it, from the honor of His government, that He should open to man this double road; for, if He desired man to be saved by knowledge, on the same principle He engaged Himself to furnish him the means of knowledge. Behold, whence come the obligations of the Deity with reference to us, which obligations He has fulfilled. Enter on this double method of proof. Interrogate history, time and places, respecting the authenticity of the Scriptures; grasp all the difficulties, sound all the objections; do not permit yourselves to be too easily convinced; be the more severe upon that book, as it professes to contain the sovereign rule of your life, and the disposal of your destiny; you are permitted to do this, nay, you are encouraged to do it, provided you proceed to the investigation with the requisite capacities and with pure intentions. Or, if you prefer another method, examine, with an honest heart, the contents of the Scriptures; inquire, while you run over the words of Jesus, if ever man spake like this Man; inquire if the wants of your soul, long deceived, and the anxieties of your spirit, long cherished in vain, do not, in the teaching and work of Christ, find that satisfaction and repose which no wisdom was ever able to procure you; breathe, if I may thus express myself, that perfume of truth, of candor and purity, which exhales from every page of the gospel; see, if, in all these respects, it does not bear the undeniable seal of inspiration and divinity. Finally, test it, and if the gospel produces upon you a contrary effect, return to the books and the wisdom of men, and ask of them what Christ has not been able to give you. But if, neglecting these two ways, made accessible to you, and trodden by the feet of ages, you desire, before all, that the Christian religion should, in every point, render itself comprehensible to your mind, and complacently strip itself of all mysteries; if you wish to penetrate beyond the veil, to find there, not the aliment which gives life to the soul, but that which would gratify your restless curiosity, I maintain that you raise against God a claim the most indiscreet, the most rash and unjust; for He has never engaged, either tacitly or expressly, to discover to you the secret which your eye craves; and such audacious importunity is fit to excite His indignation. He has given you what He owed you, more indeed than He owed you; the rest is with Himself. If a claim so unjust could be admitted, where, I ask you, would be the limit of your demands? Already you require more from God than He has accorded to angels; for these eternal mysteries which trouble you, the harmony of the divine prescience with human freedom, the origin of evil and its ineffable remedy, the incarnation of the eternal Word--the relations of the God-man with His Father--the atoning virtue of His sacrifice, the regenerating efficacy of the Spirit-comforter, all these things are secrets, the knowledge of which is hidden from angels themselves, who, according to the word of the Apostle, stoop to explore their depths, and can not. If you reproach the Eternal for having kept the knowledge of these divine mysteries to Himself, why do you not reproach Him for the thousand other limits He has prescribed for you? Why not reproach Him for not having given you wings like a bird, to visit the regions, which, till now, have been scanned only by your eyes? Why not reproach Him for not giving you, besides the five senses with which you are provided, ten other senses which He has perhaps granted to other creatures, and which procure for them perceptions of which you have no idea? Why not, in fine, reproach Him for having caused the darkness of night to succeed the brightness of day invariably on the earth? Ah! you do not reproach Him for that. You love that night which brings rest to so many fatigued bodies and weary spirits; which suspends in so many wretches, the feeling of grief; that night, during which orphans, slaves, and criminals cease to be, because over all their misfortunes and sufferings it spreads, with the opiate of sleep, the thick veil of oblivion; you love that night which, peopling the deserts of the heavens with ten thousand stars, not known to the day, reveals the infinite to our ravished imagination. Well, then, why do you not, for a similar reason, love the night of divine mysteries, night, gracious and salutary, in which reason humbles itself, and finds refreshment and repose; where the darkness even is a revelation; where one of the principal attributes of God, immensity, discovers itself much more fully to our mind; where, in fine, the tender relations He has permitted us to form with Himself, are guarded from all admixture of familiarity by the thought that the Being who has humbled Himself to us, is, at the same time, the inconceivable God who reigns before all time, who includes in Himself all existences and all conditions of existence, the center of all thought, the law of all law, the supreme and final reason of every thing! So that, if you are just, instead of reproaching Him for the secrets of religion, you will bless Him that He has enveloped you in mysteries. 2. But this claim is not only unjust toward God; it is also in itself exceedingly unreasonable. What is religion? It is God putting Himself in communication with man; the Creator with the creature, the infinite with the finite. There already, without going further, is a mystery; a mystery common to all religions, impenetrable in all religions. If, then, every thing which is a mystery offends you, you are arrested on the threshold, I will not say of Christianity, but of every religion; I say, even of that religion which is called natural, because it rejects revelation and miracles; for it necessarily implies, at the very least, a connection, a communication of some sort between God and man--the contrary being equivalent to atheism. Your claim prevents you from having any belief; and because you have not been willing to be Christians, it will not allow you to be deists. "It is of no consequence," you say, "we pass over that difficulty; we suppose between God and us connections we can not conceive; we admit them because they are necessary to us. But this is the only step we are willing to take: we have already yielded too much to yield more." Say more, say you have granted too much not to grant much more, not to grant all! You have consented to admit, without comprehending it, that there may be communications from God to you, and from you to God. But consider well what is implied in such a supposition. It implies that you are dependent, and yet free: this you do not comprehend; it implies that the Spirit of God can make itself understood by your spirit: this you do not comprehend; it implies that your prayers may exert an influence on the will of God: this you do not comprehend. It is necessary you should receive all these mysteries, in order to establish with God connections the most vague and superficial, and by the very side of which atheism is placed. And when, by a powerful effort with yourselves you have done so much as to admit these mysteries, you recoil from those of Christianity! You have accepted the foundation, and refuse the superstructure! You have accepted the principle and refuse the details! You are right, no doubt, so soon as it is proved to you, that the religion which contains these mysteries does not come from God; or rather, that these mysteries contain contradictory ideas. But you are not justified in denying them, for the sole reason that you do not understand them; and the reception you have given to the first kind of mysteries compels you, by the same rule, to receive the others. This is not all. Not only are mysteries an inseparable part, nay, the very substance of all religion, but it is absolutely impossible that a true religion should not present a great number of mysteries. If it is true, it ought to teach more truths respecting God and divine things than any other, than all others together; but each of these truths has a relation to the infinite, and by consequence borders on a mystery. How should it be otherwise in religion, when it is thus in nature itself? Behold God in nature! The more He gives us to contemplate, the more He gives to astonish us. To each creature is attached some mystery. A grain of sand is an abyss! Now, if the manifestations which God has made of Himself in nature suggest to the observer a thousand questions which can not be answered, how will it be, when to that first revelation, another is added; when God the Creator and Preserver reveals Himself under new aspects as God the Reconciler and Savior? Shall not mysteries multiply with discoveries? With each new day shall we not see associated a new night? And shall we not purchase each increase of knowledge with an increase of ignorance? Has not the doctrine of grace, so necessary, so consoling, alone opened a profound abyss, into which, for eighteen centuries, rash and restless spirits have been constantly plunging? It is, then, clearly necessary that Christianity should, more than any other religion, be mysterious, simply because it is true. Like mountains, which, the higher they are, cast the larger shadows, the gospel is the more obscure and mysterious on account of its sublimity. After this, will you be indignant that you do not comprehend every thing in the gospel? It would, forsooth, be a truly surprising thing if the ocean could not be held in the hollow of your hand, or uncreated wisdom within the limits of your intelligence! It would be truly unfortunate if a finite being could not embrace the infinite, and that, in the vast assemblage of things there should be some idea beyond its grasp! In other words, it would be truly unfortunate if God Himself should know something which man does not know! Let us acknowledge, then, how insensate is such a claim when it is made with reference to religion. But let us also recollect how much, in making such a claim, we shall be in opposition to ourselves; for the submission we dislike in religion, we cherish in a thousand other things. It happens to us every day to admit things we do not understand, and to do so without the least repugnance. The things, the knowledge of which is refused us, are much more numerous than we perhaps think. Few diamonds are perfectly pure; still fewer truths are perfectly clear. The union of our soul with our body is a mystery--our most familiar emotions and affections are a mystery--the action of thought and of will is a mystery--our very existence is a mystery. Why do we admit these various facts? Is it because we understand them? No, certainly, but because they are self-evident, and because they are truths by which we live. In religion we have no other course to take. We ought to know whether it is true and necessary; and once convinced of these two points, we ought, like the angels, to submit to the necessity of being ignorant of some things. And why do we not submit cheerfully to a privation which, after all, is not one? 3. To desire the knowledge of mysteries is to desire what is utterly useless; it is to raise, as I have said before, a claim the most vain and idle. What in reference to us is the object of the gospel? Evidently to regenerate and save us. But it attains this end wholly by the things it reveals. Of what use would it be to know those it conceals from us? We possess the knowledge which can enlighten our consciences, rectify our inclinations, renew our hearts; what should we gain if we possest other knowledge? It infinitely concerns us to know that the Bible is the Word of God; does it equally concern us to know in what way the holy men that wrote it were moved by the Holy Ghost? It is of infinite moment to us to know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God; need we know precisely in what way the divine and human natures are united in His adorable person? It is of infinite importance for us to know that unless we are born again we can not enter the kingdom of God, and that the Holy Spirit is the author of the new birth; shall we be further advanced if we know the divine process by which that wonder is performed? Is it not enough for us to know the truths that save? Of what use, then, would it be to know those which have not the slightest bearing on our salvation? "Tho I know all mysteries," says St. Paul, "and have not charity, I am nothing." St. Paul was content not to know, provided he had charity; shall not we, following his example, be content also without knowledge, provided that, like him, we have charity, that is to say, life? But some one will say "If the knowledge of mysteries is really without influence on our salvation, why have they been indicated to us at all?" What if it should be to teach us not to be too prodigal of our "wherefores!" if it should be to serve as an exercise of our faith, a test of our submission! But we will not stop with such a reply. Observe, I pray you, in what manner the mysteries of which you complain have taken their part in religion. You readily perceive they are not by themselves, but associated with truths which have a direct bearing on your salvation. They contain them, they serve to develop them; but they are not themselves the truths that save. It is with these mysteries as it is with the vessel that contains a medicinal draft--it is not the vessel that cures, but the draft; yet the draft could not be presented without the vessel. Thus each truth that saves is contained in a mystery, which, in itself, has no power to save. So the great work of expiation is necessarily attached to the incarnation of the Son of God, which is a mystery; so the sanctifying graces of the new covenant are necessarily connected with the effluence of the Holy Spirit, which is a mystery; so, too, the divinity of religion finds a seal and an attestation in the miracles, which are mysteries. Everywhere the light is born from darkness, and darkness accompanies the light. These two orders of truths are so united, so interlinked, that you can not remove the one without the other, and each of the mysteries you attempt to tear from religion would carry with it one of the truths which bear directly on your regeneration and salvation. Accept the mysteries, then, not as truths that can save you, but as the necessary conditions of the merciful work of the Lord in your behalf. The true point at issue in reference to religion is this:--Does the religion which is proposed to us change the heart, unite to God, prepare for heaven? If Christianity produces these effects, we will leave the enemies of the cross free to revolt against its mysteries, and tax them with absurdity. The gospel, we will say to them, is then an absurdity; you have discovered it. But behold what a new species of absurdity that certainly is which attaches man to all his duties, regulates human life better than all the doctrines of sages, plants in his bosom harmony, order, and peace, causes him joyfully to fulfil all the offices of civil life, renders him better fitted to live, better fitted to die, and which, were it generally received, would be the support and safeguard of society! Cite to us, among all human absurdities, a single one which produces such effects. If that "foolishness" we preach produces effects like these, is it not natural to conclude that it is truth itself? And if these things have not entered the heart of man, it is not because they are absurd, but because they are divine. Make but a single reflection. You are obliged to confess that none of the religions which man may invent can satisfy his wants, or save his soul. Thereupon you have a choice to make. You will either reject them all as insufficient and false, and seek for nothing better, since man can not invent better, and then you will abandon to chance, to caprice of temperament or of opinion, your moral life and future destiny; or you will adopt that other religion which some treat as folly, and it will render you holy and pure, blameless in the midst of a perverse generation, united to God by love, and to your brethren by charity, indefatigable in doing good, happy in life, happy in death. Suppose, after all this, you shall be told that this religion is false; but meanwhile, it has restored in you the image of God, reestablished your primitive connections with that great Being, and put you in a condition to enjoy life and the happiness of heaven. By means of it you have become such that at the last day, it is impossible that God should not receive you as His children and make you partakers of His glory. You are made fit for paradise, nay, paradise has commenced for you even here, because you love. This religion has done for you what all religions propose, and what no other has realized. Nevertheless, by the supposition, it is false! And what more could it do, were it true? Rather do you not see that this is a splendid proof of its truth? Do you not see that it is impossible that a religion which leads to God should not come from God, and that the absurdity is precisely that of supposing that you can be regenerated by a falsehood? Suppose that afterward, as at the first, you do not comprehend. It seems necessary, then, you should be saved by the things you do not comprehend. Is that a misfortune? Are you the less saved? Does it become you to demand from God an explanation of an obscurity which does not injure you, when, with reference to every thing essential, He has been prodigal of light? The first disciples of Jesus, men without culture and learning, received truths which they did not comprehend, and spread them through the world. A crowd of sages and men of genius have received, from the hands of these poor people, truths which they comprehended no more than they. The ignorance of the one, and the science of the other, have been equally docile. Do, then, as the ignorant and the wise have done. Embrace with affection those truths which have never entered into your heart, and which will save you. Do not lose, in vain discussions, the time which is gliding away, and which is bearing you into the cheering or appalling light of eternity. Hasten to be saved. Love now; one day you will know. May the Lord Jesus prepare you for that period of light, of repose, and of happiness! SUMMERFIELD THE HEAVENLY INHERITANCE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE JOHN SUMMERFIELD was born in England in 1798, and came to New York in 1821, where he soon became one of the most popular and eloquent preachers of that day. He belonged to the Methodist Communion and his name is still perpetuated in the names of many Methodist churches. He was unusually simple and modest in his tastes and habits, but when he spoke from the pulpit he produced a great impression by the force and daring of his style. He gave promise of equaling Whitefield as a pulpit orator, but he was subject to delicate health and prematurely died in 1825, twenty-seven years of age. SUMMERFIELD 1798-1825 THE HEAVENLY INHERITANCE _For so an entrance shall be ministered unto you abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ._--2 Peter i., 11. Of all the causes which may be adduced to account for the indifference which is so generally manifested toward those great concerns of eternity, in which men are so awfully interested, none appears to me so likely to resolve the mystery, as that unbelief which lies at the core of every heart, hindering repentance, and so making faith impossible. Men hear that there is a hell to shun, a heaven to win; and, though they give their assent to both these truths, they never impress them on their mind. It is plain that, whatever their lips may confess, they never believed with the heart, otherwise some effect would have been produced in the life. The germ of unbelief lies within, and discovers itself in all that indifference which is displayed, in the majority of that class of beings whose existence is to be perpetuated throughout eternity. If these thoughts do sometimes obtrude themselves on their serious attention, they are immediately banished from their minds; and the dying exclamation of Moses may be taken up with tears by every lover of perishing sinners: "O! that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!" When God, by His prophet Isaiah, called the Israelites to a sense of their awful departure from Him, His language was, "My people do not know: My people do not consider." How few are there like Mary, who "ponder those things in their heart," who are willing to look at themselves, to pry into eternity, to put the question home, "Shall I be with the damn'd cast out, Or numbered with the bless'd?" This question must sooner or later have a place in your minds, or awful will be your state indeed; let it reach your hearts to-day; and if you pray to the Father of light, you will soon be enabled in His light to discern so much of yourselves as will cause you to cry, "What shall I do to be saved?" While we shall this morning attempt to point out some of the privileges of the sons of God, oh! may your hearts catch the strong desire to be conformed to the living Head, that so an abundant entrance may be administered unto you also, into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. The privilege to which our text leads us, is exclusively applicable to those to whom that question has been solved by the Spirit of God; those who have believed to the saving of their souls; who have experienced redemption through His blood, and the forgiveness of sins; and who are walking in the fear of the Lord and in the comfort of the Holy Ghost. I. The state to which we look forward: the "everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Savior." 1. It is a kingdom. By this figurative expression our Lord has described the state of grace here and of glory hereafter; our happiness in time and our happiness in eternity. They were wisely so called: Jesus has said, as well as done, all things well; for these two states differ not in kind, but in degree; the one is merely a preparative for the other, and he who has been a subject of the former kingdom will be a subject of the latter. Grace is but the seed of glory, glory is the maturity of grace; grace is but the bud of glory, glory is grace full blown; grace is but the blossom of glory, glory is the ripe fruit of grace; grace is but the infant of glory, glory is the perfection of grace. Hence our hymn beautifully says, "The men of grace have found glory begun below," agreeing with our Lord's own words, "He that believeth hath everlasting life"; he feels even here its glories beginning--a foretaste of its bliss. Now the propriety with which these two states are called kingdoms is manifest from the analogy which might be traced between them and the model of a human sovereignty. Two or three of the outlines of this model will be sufficient. In the idea of a kingdom it is implied that in some part of its extent there is the residence of a sovereign; for this is essential to constitute it. Now in the kingdom of grace the heart of the believer is made the residence of the King invisible! "Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you?" Such know what that promise means, "I will dwell in them, and they shall be my people." St. Paul exultingly cries, "Christ liveth in me." Again, it is essential that the inhabitants of a kingdom be under the government of its laws. An empire without laws is no sovereignty at all; it ceases to be such, for every inhabitant has an equal right to do that which seems good in his own eyes. Now the subjects of Christ's kingdom of grace are "not without law, but are under a law to Christ"; they do His righteous will! Lastly, it is essential that the subjects of a kingdom be under the protection of the presiding monarch, and that they repose their confidence in him. To the subjects of the kingdom of grace, Christ imparts His kingly protection; this is their heritage: "No weapon formed against them shall prosper"; nay, He imparts to them of His royal bounty, and they enjoy all the blessings of an inward heaven. But how great the perfection of the kingdom of glory mentioned in our text! Does He make these vile bodies His residence here? How much more glorious is His temple above! how splendid the court of heaven! There, indeed, he fixes His throne, and they see Him as He is. Does He exercise His authority here and rule His happy subjects by the law, the perfect law of love? How much more in heaven! He reigns there forever over them; His government is there wholly by Himself; He knows nothing of a rival there; His rule is sole and perfect: there they serve Him day and night. Are His subjects here partakers of His kingly bounty? Much more in heaven! He calls them to a participation of all the joys, the spiritual joys which are at His right hand, and the pleasures which are there forevermore. Yet, after all our descriptions of that glory, it is not yet revealed, and, therefore, inconceivable. But who would not hail such a Son of David? who would not desire to be swayed by such a Prince of Peace? Whose heart would not ascend with the affections of our poet, "O! that with yonder sacred throng, we at His feet may fall"? 2. But it is an everlasting kingdom! Here it rises in the scale of comparison. Weigh the kingdoms of this world in this balance, and they are found wanting; for on many we read their fatal history, and ere long we shall see them all branded with the writing of the invisible Agent, "The kingdom is taken from thee, and given to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof"; "For the kingdoms of this world have become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ"; they will be absorbed and swallowed up in the fulness of eternity, and leave not a wrack behind! Every thing here is perishable! The towering diadem of Caesar has fallen from his head and crumbled into dust; and that kingdom whose scepter once swayed the world, betwixt whose colossal stride all nations were glad to creep to find themselves dishonored graves, is now forgotten, or, if its recollection be preserved, its history is emphatically called "The Decline and Fall." But bring the matter nearer home; apply it not to multitudes of subjects, but to your individual experience, and has not that good teacher instructed you in this sad lesson? We tremble to look at our earthly possessions and employments, lest we should see them in motion, spreading their wings to fly away! How many are there already who, in talking of their comforts, are obliged to go back in their reckoning! Would not this be the language of some of you: "I had--I had a husband, the sharer of my joys, the soother of my sorrows; but he is not! I had a wife, a helpmeet for me; but where is she? I had children to whom I looked up as my support and staff in the decline of life, while passing down the hill; but I am bereaved of my children! I had health, and I highly prized its wealth; but now my emaciated frame, my shriveled system, and the pains of nature bespeak that comfort fled! I had, or fondly thought I had, happiness in possession! Then I said with Job, 'I shall die in my nest!' but ah! an unexpected blast passed over me, and now my joys are blighted! 'They have fled as a shadow, and continued not.'" Yes! time promised you much! perhaps it performed a little; but it can not do any thing for you on which it can grave "eternal." Its name is mortal, its nature is decay; it was born with man, and when the generations of men shall cease to exist, it will cease also: "Time shall be no longer!" We know concerning these that, "All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower fadeth, but the word of the Lord endureth forever." Yes! His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom; glory can not corrupt! the crown of glory can not fade! Why? Death will be destroyed; Christ will put this last enemy under His feet, and all will then be eternal life! Oh, happy, happy kingdom; nay, thrice happy he who shall be privileged to be its subject! 3. It is the everlasting kingdom of our own Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. It is His by claim: "Him hath God the Father highly exalted"; yea, Him hath He appointed to be "the judge of quick and dead"; for tho by the sufferings of death He was made a little lower than the angels, yet immediately after His resurrection He declares that now "All power is given unto him in heaven and in earth"! The Father hath committed all judgment unto the Son, and He has now the disposal of the offices and privileges of the empire among His faithful followers. This is the idea that the penitent dying thief had on the subject: "Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom"; and St. Paul expresses the same when he says to Timothy in the confidence of faith, "The Lord shall deliver me and preserve me unto his heavenly kingdom." Oh! how pleasing the thought to the child of God, that his ruler to all eternity will be his elder Brother; for He who sanctifieth and they who are sanctified are all of one; and though He is heir of all things, yet we, as younger branches of the same heavenly family, shall be joint heirs, fellow-heirs of the same glorious inheritance. How great will be our joy to behold Him who humbled Himself for us to death, even the death of the cross, now exalted God over all, blest for evermore; and while contemplating Him under the character of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, how great the relish which will be given to that feeling of the redeemed which will constrain them to cry, "Thou alone art worthy to receive glory, and honor, and power." II. But the apostle reminds us of the entrance into this kingdom! 1. The entrance into this kingdom is death: "By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin:" "Death, like a narrow sea, divides That heavenly land from ours!" "A messenger is sent to bring us to God, but it is the King of Terrors. We enter the land flowing with milk and honey, but it is through the valley of the shadow of death." Yet fear not, O thou child of God! there is no need that thou, through the fear of death, shouldst be all thy lifetime subject to bondage. 2. No; hear the apostle: the entrance is ministered unto thee! Death is but His minister; he can not lock his ice-cold hand in thine till He permit. Our Jesus has the keys of hell and death; and till He liberates the vassal to bring thee home, not a hair of thy head can fall to the ground! Fear not, thou worm! He who minds the sparrows appoints the time for thy removal: fear not; only be thou always ready, that, whenever the messenger comes to take down the tabernacle in which thy spirit has long made her abode, thou mayest be able to exclaim, "Amen! even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly." Death need have no terrors for thee; he is the vassal of thy Lord, and, however unwilling to do Him reverence, yet to Him that sits at God's right hand shall even death pay, if not a joyful, yet a trembling homage; nay, more: "To Him shall earth and hell submit, And every foe shall fall, Till death expires beneath His feet, And God is all in all." Christ has already had one triumph over death; His iron pangs could not detain the Prince who has "life in himself"; and in His strength thou shalt triumph, for the power of Christ is promised to rest upon thee! He has had the same entrance; His footsteps marked the way, and His cry to thee is, "Follow thou me." "My sheep," says He, "hear my voice, and they do follow me"; they follow Me gladly, even into this gloomy vale; and what is the consequence? "They shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand." 3. It is ministered unto you abundantly. Perhaps the apostle means that the death of some is distinguished by indulgences and honors not vouchsafed to all. In the experience of some, the passage appears difficult; in others it is comparatively easy; they gently fall asleep in Jesus. But we not only see diversities in the mortal agony--this would be a small thing.... Some get in with sails full spread and carrying a rich cargo indeed, while others arrive barely on a single plank. Some, who have long had their conversation in heaven, are anxious to be wafted into the celestial haven; while others, who never sought God till alarmed at the speedy approach of death, have little confidence, "And linger shivering on the brink, And fear to launch away." This doctrine must have been peculiarly encouraging to the early converts to whom St. Peter wrote. From the tenor of both of his epistles it is clear that they were in a state of severe suffering, and in great danger of apostatizing through fear of persecution. He reminds them that if they hold fast their professions, an abundant entrance will be administered unto them. The death of the martyr is far more glorious than that of the Christian who concealed his profession through fear of man. Witness the case of Stephen: he was not ashamed of being a witness for Jesus in the face of the violent death which awaited him, and which crushed the tabernacle of his devoted spirit; his Lord reserved the highest display of His love and of His glory for that awful hour! "Behold!" says he to his enemies, while gnashing on him with their teeth, "Behold! I see heaven opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God"; then, in the full triumph of faith, he cries out, "Lord Jesus! receive my spirit!" But did these things apply merely to the believers to whom St. Peter originally wrote? No; you are the men to whom they equally apply; according to your walk and profession of that gospel will be the entrance which will be ministered unto you. Some of you have heard, in another of our houses, during the past week, the dangerous tendency of the spirit of fear, the fear of man. I would you had all heard that discourse: alas! many who have a name and a place among us are becoming mere Sabbath-day worshipers in the courts of the Lord, and lightly esteem the daily means of grace. I believe this is one cause at least why many are weak and sickly among us in divine things. The inner man does not make due increase; the world is stealing a march unawares upon us. May God revive among us the spirit of our fathers! These things, then, I say, equally apply to you. Behold the strait, the royal, the king's highway! Are you afraid of the reproach of Christ? "Ashamed of Jesus, that dear Friend, On whom our hopes of heaven depend?" How soon would the world be overcome if all who profess that faith were faithful to it! Wo to the rebellious children who compromise truth with the world, and in effect deny their Lord and Master! Who hath required this at their hands? Do they not follow with the crowd who cry, "Lord, Lord! and yet do not the things which He says"? Will they have the adoption and the glory? Will they aim at the honor implied in these words, "Ye are my witnesses?" Will ye indeed be sons? Then see the path wherein His footsteps shine! The way is open! see that ye walk therein! The false apostles, the deceitful workers shall have their reward; the same that those of old had, the praise and esteem of men; while the faith of those who truly call Him Father and Lord, and who walk in the light as He is in the light, who submit, like Him and His true followers, to be counted as "the filth of the world, and the offscouring of all things", shall be found unto praise, and honor, and glory! The true Christian does not seek to hide himself in a corner; he lets his light shine before men, whether they will receive it or not; and thereby is his Father glorified. Having thus served, by the will of God, the hour of his departure at length arrives. The angels beckon him away; Jesus bids him come; and as he departs this life he looks back with a heavenly smile on surviving friends, and is enabled to say, "Whither I go, ye know, and the way ye know." An entrance is ministered unto him abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of his Lord and Savior. III. Having considered the state to which we look, and the mode of our admission, let us consider the condition of it. This is implied in the word "so." "For so an entrance shall be ministered unto you." In the preceding part of this chapter, the apostle has pointed out the meaning of this expression, and in the text merely sums it all up in that short mode of expression. The first condition he shows to be, the obtaining like precious faith with him, through the righteousness of God and our Savior Jesus Christ. Not a faith which merely assents to the truths of the gospel record, but a faith which applies the merits of the death of Christ to expiate my individual guilt; which lays hold on Him as my sacrifice, and produces, in its exercises, peace with God, a knowledge of the divine favor, a sense of sin forgiven, and a full certainty, arising from a divine impression on the heart, made by the Spirit of God, that I am accepted in the Beloved and made a child of God. If those who profess the Gospel of Christ were but half as zealous in seeking after this enjoyment as they are in discovering creaturely objections to its attainment, it would be enjoyed by thousands who at present know nothing of its happy reality. Such persons, unfortunately for themselves, employ much more assiduity in searching a vocabulary to find out epithets of reproach to attach to those who maintain the doctrine than in searching that volume which declares that "if you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying Abba, Father"; and that "he that believeth hath the witness in himself." In whatever light a scorner may view this doctrine now, the time will come when, being found without the wedding garment, he will be cast into outer darkness. O sinner! cry to God this day to convince thee of thy need of this salvation, and then thou wilt be in a condition to receive it: "Shalt know, shalt feel thy sins forgiven, Bless'd with this antepast of heaven." But, besides this, the apostle requires that we then henceforth preserve consciences void of offense toward God and toward man. This faith which obtains the forgiveness of sin unites to Christ, and by this union we are made, as St. Peter declares, "partakers of the divine nature": and as He who has called you is holy, so you are to be holy in all manner of conversation. For yours is a faith which not only casts out sin, but purifies the heart--the conscience having been once purged by the sprinkling of the blood of Christ, you are not to suffer guilt to be again contracted; for the salvation of Christ is not only from the penalty, but from the very stain of sin; not only from its guilt, but from its pollution; not only from its condemnation, but from its very "in-being"; "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin"; and "For this purpose was the Son of God manifested, that he might destroy the works of the devil." You are therefore required by St. Peter, "to escape the corruption that is in the world through lust," and thus to perfect holiness in the fear of the Lord! Finally, live in progressive and practical godliness. Not only possess, but practise, the virtues of religion; not only practise, but increase therein, abounding in the work of the Lord! Lead up, hand in hand, in the same delightful chorus, all the graces which adorn the Christian character. Having the divine nature, possessing a new and living principle, let diligent exercise reduce it to practical holiness; and you will be easily discerned from those formal hypocrites, whose faith and religion are but a barren and unfruitful speculation. To conclude: live to God--live for God--live in God; and let your moderation be known unto all men--the Lord is at hand: "Therefore giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue, knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance; and to temperance, patience; and to patience, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, charity." NEWMAN GOD'S WILL THE END OF LIFE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE JOHN HENRY NEWMAN was born in London in 1801. He won high honors at Oxford, and in 1828 was appointed vicar of the University Church, St. Mary's, and with Keble and Pusey headed the Oxford Movement. In the pulpit of St. Mary's he soon showed himself to be a power. His sermons, exquisite, tho simple in style, chiefly deal with various phases of personal religion which he illustrated with a keen spiritual insight, a sympathetic glow, an exalted earnestness and a breadth of range, unparalleled in English pulpit utterances before his time. His extreme views on questions of catholicity, sacerdotalism and the sacraments, as well as his craving for an infallible authority in matters of faith, shook his confidence in the Church of England and he went over to Rome in 1845. He was made Cardinal in 1879 and died in 1890. NEWMAN 1801-1890 GOD'S WILL THE END OF LIFE _I came down from heaven not to do mine own will but the will of him that sent me._--John vi., 38. I am going to ask you a question, my dear brethren, so trite, and therefore so uninteresting at first sight, that you may wonder why I put it, and may object that it will be difficult to fix the mind on it, and may anticipate that nothing profitable can be made of it. It is this: "Why were you sent into the world?" Yet, after all, it is perhaps a thought more obvious than it is common, more easy than it is familiar; I mean it ought to come into your minds, but it does not, and you never had more than a distant acquaintance with it, tho that sort of acquaintance with it you have had for many years. Nay, once or twice, perhaps you have been thrown across the thought somewhat intimately, for a short season, but this was an accident which did not last. There are those who recollect the first time, as it would seem, when it came home to them. They were but little children, and they were by themselves, and they spontaneously asked themselves, or rather God spake in them, "Why am I here? how came I here? who brought me here? What am I to do here?" Perhaps it was the first act of reason, the beginning of their real responsibility, the commencement of their trial; perhaps from that day they may date their capacity, their awful power, of choosing between good and evil, and of committing mortal sin. And so, as life goes on, the thought comes vividly, from time to time, for a short season across their conscience; whether in illness, or in some anxiety, or at some season of solitude, or on hearing some preacher, or reading some religious work. A vivid feeling comes over them of the vanity and unprofitableness of the world, and then the question recurs, "Why then am I sent into it?" And a great contrast indeed does this vain, unprofitable, yet overbearing world present with such a question as that. It seems out of place to ask such a question in so magnificent, so imposing a presence, as that of the great Babylon. The world professes to supply all that we need, as if we were sent into it for the sake of being sent here, and for nothing beyond the sending. It is a great favor to have an introduction to this august world. This is to be our exposition, forsooth, of the mystery of life. Every man is doing his own will here, seeking his own pleasure, pursuing his own ends; that is why he was brought into existence. Go abroad into the streets of the populous city, contemplate the continuous outpouring there of human energy, and the countless varieties of human character, and be satisfied! The ways are thronged, carriage-way and pavement; multitudes are hurrying to and fro, each on his own errand, or are loitering about from listlessness, or from want of work, or have come forth into the public concourse, to see and to be seen, for amusement or for display, or on the excuse of business. The carriages of the wealthy mingle with the slow wains laden with provisions or merchandise, the productions of art or the demands of luxury. The streets are lined with shops, open and gay, inviting customers, and widen now and then into some spacious square or place, with lofty masses of brickwork or of stone, gleaming in the fitful sunbeam, and surrounded or fronted with what simulates a garden's foliage. Follow them in another direction, and you find the whole groundstead covered with large buildings, planted thickly up and down, the homes of the mechanical arts. The air is filled, below, with a ceaseless, importunate, monotonous din, which penetrates even to your innermost chamber, and rings in your ears even when you are not conscious of it; and overhead, with a canopy of smoke, shrouding God's day from the realms of obstinate, sullen toil. This is the end of man! Or stay at home, and take up one of those daily prints, which are so true a picture of the world; look down the columns of advertisements, and you will see the catalog of pursuits, projects, aims, anxieties, amusements, indulgences which occupy the mind of man. He plays many parts: here he has goods to sell, there he wants employment; there again he seeks to borrow money, here he offers you houses, great seats or small tenements; he has food for the million, and luxuries for the wealthy, and sovereign medicines for the credulous, and books, new and cheap, for the inquisitive. Pass on to the news of the day, and you will learn what great men are doing at home and abroad: you will read of wars and rumors of wars; of debates in the legislature; of rising men, and old statesmen going off the scene; of political contests in this city or that country; of the collision of rival interests. You will read of the money market, and the provision market, and the market for metals; of the state of trade, the call for manufactures, news of ships arrived in port, of accidents at sea, of exports and imports, of gains and losses, of frauds and their detection. Go forward, and you arrive at discoveries in art and science, discoveries (so-called) in religion, the court and royalty, the entertainments of the great, places of amusement, strange trials, offenses, accidents, escapes, exploits, experiments, contests, ventures. Oh, this curious restless, clamorous, panting being, which we call life!--and is there to be no end to all this? Is there no object in it? It never has an end, it is forsooth its own object! And now, once more, my brethren, put aside what you see and what you read of the world, and try to penetrate into the hearts, and to reach the ideas and the feelings of those who constitute it; look into them as closely as you can; enter into their houses and private rooms; strike at random through the streets and lanes: take as they come, palace and hovel, office or factory, and what will you find? Listen to their words, witness, alas! their works; you will find in the main the same lawless thoughts, the same unrestrained desires, the same ungoverned passions, the same earthly opinions, the same wilful deeds, in high and low, learned and unlearned; you will find them all to be living for the sake of living; they one and all seem to tell you, "We are our own center, our own end." Why are they toiling? why are they scheming? for what are they living? "We live to please ourselves; life is worthless except we have our own way; we are not sent here at all, but we find ourselves here, and we are but slaves unless we can think what we will, believe what we will, love what we will, hate what we will, do what we will. We detest interference on the part of God or man. We do not bargain to be rich or to be great; but we do bargain, whether rich or poor, high or low, to live for ourselves, to live for the lust of the moment, or, according to the doctrine of the hour, thinking of the future and the unseen just as much or as little as we please." Oh, my brethren, is it not a shocking thought, but who can deny its truth? The multitude of men are living without any aim beyond this visible scene; they may from time to time use religious words, or they may profess a communion or a worship, as a matter of course, or of expedience, or of duty, but, if there was sincerity in such profession, the course of the world could not run as it does. What a contrast is all this to the end of life, as it is set before us in our most holy faith! If there was one among the sons of men, who might allowably have taken his pleasure, and have done his own will here below, surely it was He who came down on earth from the bosom of the Father, and who was so pure and spotless in that human nature which He put on Him, that He could have no human purpose or aim inconsistent with the will of His Father. Yet He, the Son of God, the Eternal Word, came, not to do His own will, but His who sent Him, as you know very well is told us again and again in Scripture. Thus the Prophet in the Psalter, speaking in His person, says, "Lo, I come to do thy will, O God." And He says in the Prophet Isaiah, "The Lord God hath opened mine ear, and I do not resist; I have not gone back." And in the gospel, when He hath come on earth, "My food is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work." Hence, too, in His agony, He cried out, "Not my will, but thine, be done;" and St. Paul, in like manner, says, that "Christ pleased not himself;" and elsewhere, that, "tho he was God's Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered." Surely so it was; as being indeed the eternal coequal Son, His will was one and the same with the Father's will, and He had no submission of will to make; but He chose to take on Him man's nature and the will of that nature; he chose to take on Him affections, feelings, and inclinations proper to man, a will innocent indeed and good, but still a man's will, distinct from God's will; a will, which, had it acted simply according to what was pleasing to its nature, would, when pain and toil were to be endured, have held back from an active cooperation with the will of God. But, tho He took on Himself the nature of man, He took not on Him that selfishness, with which fallen man wraps himself round, but in all things He devoted Himself as a ready sacrifice to His Father. He came on earth, not to take His pleasure, not to follow His taste, not for the mere exercise of human affection, but simply to glorify His Father and to do His will. He came charged with a mission, deputed for a work; He looked not to the right nor to the left, He thought not of Himself, He offered Himself up to God. Hence it is that He was carried in the womb of a poor woman, who, before His birth, had two journeys to make, of love and of obedience, to the mountains and to Bethlehem. He was born in a stable, and laid in a manger. He was hurried off to Egypt to sojourn there; then He lived till He was thirty years of age in a poor way, by a rough trade, in a small house, in a despised town. Then, when He went out to preach, He had not where to lay His head; He wandered up and down the country, as a stranger upon earth. He was driven out into the wilderness, and dwelt among the wild beasts. He endured heat and cold, hunger and weariness, reproach and calumny. His food was coarse bread, and fish from the lake, or depended on the hospitality of strangers. And as He had already left His Father's greatness on high, and had chosen an earthly home; so again, at that Father's bidding, He gave up the sole solace given Him in this world, and denied Himself His mother's presence. He parted with her who bore Him; He endured to be strange to her; He endured to call her coldly "woman," who was His own undefiled one, all beautiful, all gracious, the best creature of His hands, and the sweet nurse of His infancy. He put her aside, as Levi, His type, merited the sacred ministry, by saying to His parents and kinsmen, "I know you not." He exemplified in His own person the severe maxim, which He gave to His disciples, "He that loveth more than me is not worthy of me." In all these many ways He sacrificed every wish of His own; that we might understand, that, if He, the Creator, came into His world, not for His own pleasure, but to do His Father's will, we too have most surely some work to do, and have seriously to bethink ourselves what that work is. Yes, so it is; realize it, my brethren;--every one who breathes, high and low, educated and ignorant, young and old, man and woman, has a mission, has a work. We are not sent into this world for nothing; we are not born at random; we are not here, that we may go to bed at night, and get up in the morning, toil for our bread, eat and drink, laugh and joke, sin when we have a mind, and reform when we are tired of sinning, rear a family and die. God sees every one of us; He creates every soul, He lodges it in the body, one by one, for a purpose. He needs, He deigns to need, every one of us. He has an end for each of us; we are all equal in His sight, and we are placed in our different ranks and stations, not to get what we can out of them for ourselves, but to labor in them for Him. As Christ had His work, we too have ours; as He rejoiced to do His work, we must rejoice in ours also. St. Paul on one occasion speaks of the world as a scene in a theater. Consider what is meant by this. You know, actors on a stage are on an equality with each other really, but for the occasion they assume a difference of character; some are high, some are low, some are merry, and some sad. Well, would it not be simple absurdity in any actor to pride himself on his mock diadem, or his edgeless sword, instead of attending to his part? What, if he did but gaze at himself and his dress? what, if he secreted, or turned to his own use, what was valuable in it? Is it not his business, and nothing else, to act his part well? Common sense tells us so. Now we are all but actors in this world; we are one and all equal, we shall be judged as equals as soon as life is over; yet, equal and similar in ourselves, each has his special part at present, each has his work, each has his mission,--not to indulge his passions, not to make money, not to get a name in the world, not to save himself trouble, not to follow his bent, not to be selfish and self-willed, but to do what God puts on him to do. Look at the poor profligate in the gospel, look at Dives; do you think he understood that his wealth was to be spent, not on himself, but for the glory of God?--yet forgetting this, he was lost for ever and ever. I will tell you what he thought, and how he viewed things: he was a young man, and had succeeded to a good estate, and he determined to enjoy himself. It did not strike him that his wealth had any other use than that of enabling him to take his pleasure. Lazarus lay at his gate; he might have relieved Lazarus; that was God's will; but he managed to put conscience aside, and he persuaded himself he should be a fool, if he did not make the most of this world, while he had the means. So he resolved to have his fill of pleasure; and feasting was to his mind a principal part of it. "He fared sumptuously every day"; everything belonging to him was in the best style, as men speak; his house, his furniture, his plate of silver and gold, his attendants, his establishments. Everything was for enjoyment, and for show, too; to attract the eyes of the world, and to gain the applause and admiration of his equals, who were the companions of his sins. These companions were doubtless such as became a person of such pretensions; they were fashionable men; a collection of refined, high-bred, haughty men, eating, not gluttonously, but what was rare and costly; delicate, exact, fastidious in their taste, from their very habits of indulgence; not eating for the mere sake of eating, or drinking for the mere sake of drinking, but making a sort of science of their sensuality; sensual, carnal, as flesh and blood can be, with eyes, ears, tongue steeped in impurity, every thought, look, and sense, witnessing or ministering to the evil one who ruled them; yet, with exquisite correctness of idea and judgment, laying down rules for sinning;--heartless and selfish, high, punctilious, and disdainful in their outward deportment, and shrinking from Lazarus, who lay at the gate, as an eye-sore, who ought for the sake of decency to be put out of the way. Dives was one of such, and so he lived his short span, thinking of nothing but himself, till one day he got into a fatal quarrel with one of his godless associates, or he caught some bad illness; and then he lay helpless on his bed of pain, cursing fortune and his physician that he was no better, and impatient that he was thus kept from enjoying his youth, trying to fancy himself mending when he was getting worse, and disgusted at those who would not throw him some word of comfort in his suspense, and turning more resolutely from his Creator in proportion to his suffering;--and then at last his day came, and he died, and (oh! miserable!) "was buried in hell." And so ended he and his mission. This was the fate of your pattern and idol, oh, ye, if any of you be present, young men, who, tho not possest of wealth and rank, yet affect the fashions of those who have them. You, my brethren, have not been born splendidly, or nobly; you have not been brought up in the seats of liberal education; you have no high connections; you have not learned the manners nor caught the tone of good society; you have no share of the largeness of mind, the candor, the romantic sense of honor, the correctness of taste, the consideration for others, and the gentleness which the world puts forth as its highest type of excellence; you have not come near the courts of the mansions of the great; yet you ape the sin of Dives, while you are strangers to his refinement. You think it the sign of a gentleman to set yourselves above religion; to criticize the religious and professors of religion; to look at Catholic and Methodist with impartial contempt; to gain a smattering of knowledge on a number of subjects; to dip into a number of frivolous publications, if they are popular; to have read the latest novel; to have heard the singer and seen the actor of the day; to be well up with the news; to know the names and, if so be, the persons of public men, to be able to bow to them; to walk up and down the street with your heads on high, and to stare at whatever meets you; and to say and do worse things, of which these outward extravagances are but the symbol. And this is what you conceive you have come upon the earth for! The Creator made you, it seems, oh, my children, for this work and office, to be a bad imitation of polished ungodliness, to be a piece of tawdry and faded finery, or a scent which has lost its freshness, and does not but offend the sense! O! that you could see how absurd and base are such pretenses in the eyes of any but yourselves! No calling of life but is honorable; no one is ridiculous who acts suitably to his calling and estate; no one, who has good sense and humility, but may, in any state of life, be truly well-bred and refined; but ostentation, affectation, and ambitious efforts are, in every station of life, high or low, nothing but vulgarities. Put them aside, despise them yourselves. Oh, my very dear sons, whom I love, and whom I would fain serve;--oh, that you could feel that you have souls! oh, that you would have mercy on your souls! oh, that, before it is too late, you would betake yourselves to Him who is the source of all that is truly high and magnificent and beautiful, all that is bright and pleasant and secure what you ignorantly seek, in Him whom you so wilfully, so awfully despise! He, alone, the Son of God, "the brightness of the Eternal Light, and the spotless mirror of His Majesty," is the source of all good and all happiness to rich and poor, high and low. If you were ever so high, you would need Him; if you were ever so low, you could offend Him. The poor can offend Him; the poor man can neglect his divinely appointed mission as well as the rich. Do not suppose, my brethren, that what I have said against the upper or the middle class will not, if you happen to be poor, also lie against you. Though a man were as poor as Lazarus, he could be as guilty as Dives. If you were resolved to degrade yourselves to the brutes of the field, who have no reason and no conscience, you need not wealth or rank to enable you to do so. Brutes have no wealth; they have no pride of life; they have no purple and fine linen, no splendid table, no retinue of servants, and yet they are brutes. They are brutes by the law of their nature; they are the poorest among the poor; there is not a vagrant and outcast who is so poor as they; they differ from him, not in their possessions, but in their want of a soul, in that he has a mission and they have not, he can sin and they can not. Oh, my brethren, it stands to reason, a man may intoxicate himself with a cheap draft, as well as with a costly one; he may steal another's money for his appetites, though he does not waste his own upon them; he may break through the natural and social laws which encircle him, and profane the sanctity of family duties, tho he be not a child of nobles, but a peasant or artisan,--nay, and perhaps he does so more frequently than they. This is not the poor's blessedness, that he has less temptations to self-indulgence, for he has as many, but that from his circumstances he receives the penances and corrections of self-indulgence. Poverty is the mother of many pains and sorrows in their season, and these are God's messengers to lead the soul to repentance; but, alas! if the poor man indulges his passions, thinks little of religion, puts off repentance, refuses to make an effort, and dies without conversion, it matters nothing that he was poor in this world, it matters nothing that he was less daring than the rich, it matters not that he promised himself God's favor, that he sent for the priest when death came, and received the last sacraments; Lazarus too, in that case, shall be buried with Dives in hell, and shall have had his consolation neither in this world nor in the world to come. My brethren, the simple question is, whatever a man's rank in life may be, does he in that rank perform the work which God has given him to do? Now then, let me turn to others, of a very different description, and let me hear what they will say, when the question is asked them. Why, they will parry it thus: "You give us no alternative," they will say to me, "except that of being sinners or saints. You put before us our Lord's pattern, and you spread before us the guilt and ruin of the deliberate transgressor; whereas we have no intention of going so far one way or the other; we do not aim at being saints, but we have no desire at all to be sinners. We neither intend to disobey God's will, nor to give up our own. Surely there is a middle way, and a safe one, in which God's will and our will may both be satisfied. We mean to enjoy both this world and the next. We will guard against mortal sin; we are not obliged to guard against venial; indeed it would be endless to attempt it. None but saints do so; it is the work of a life; we need have nothing else to do. We are not monks, we are in the world, we are in business, we are parents, we have families; we must live for the day. It is a consolation to keep from mortal sin; that we do, and it is enough for salvation. It is a great thing to keep in God's favor; what indeed can we desire more? We come at due time to the sacraments; this is our comfort and our stay; did we die, we should die in grace, and escape the doom of the wicked. But if we once attempted to go further, where should we stop? how will you draw the line for us? The line between mortal and venial sin is very distinct; we understand that; but do you not see that, if we attended to our venial sins, there would be just as much reason to attend to one as to another? If we began to repress our anger, why not also repress vainglory? Why not also guard against niggardliness? Why not also keep from falsehood, from gossiping, from idling, from excess in eating? And, after all, without venial sin we never can be, unless indeed we have the prerogative of the Mother of God, which it would be almost heresy to ascribe to any one but her. You are not asking us to be converted; that we understand; we are converted, we were converted a long time ago. You bid us aim at an indefinite vague something, which is less than perfection, yet more than obedience, and which, without resulting in any tangible advantage, debars us from the pleasures and embarrasses us in the duties of this world." This is what you will say; but your premises, my brethren, are better than your reasoning, and your conclusions will not stand. You have a right view why God has sent you into the world; viz., in order that you may get to heaven; it is quite true also that you would fare well indeed if you found yourselves there, you could desire nothing better; nor, it is true, can you live any time without venial sin. It is true also that you are not obliged to aim at being saints; it is no sin not to aim at perfection. So much is true and to the purpose; but it does not follow from it that you, with such views and feelings as you have exprest, are using sufficient exertions even for attaining purgatory. Has your religion any difficulty in it, or is it in all respects easy to you? Are you simply taking your own pleasure in your mode of living, or do you find your pleasure in submitting yourself to God's pleasure? In a word, is your religion a work? For if it be not, it is not religion at all. Here at once, before going into your argument, is a proof that it is an unsound one, because it brings you to the conclusion that, whereas Christ came to do a work, and all saints, nay, nay, and sinners to do a work too, you, on the contrary, have no work to do, because, forsooth, you are neither sinners nor saints; or, if you once had a work, at least that you have despatched it already, and you have nothing upon your hands. You have attained your salvation, it seems, before your time, and have nothing to occupy you, and are detained on earth too long. The work days are over, and your perpetual holiday is begun. Did then God send you, above all other men, into the world to be idle in spiritual matters? Is it your mission only to find pleasure in this world, in which you are but as pilgrims and sojourners? Are you more than sons of Adam, who, by the sweat of their brow, are to eat bread till they return to the earth out of which they are taken? Unless you have some work in hand, unless you are struggling, unless you are fighting with yourselves, you are no followers of those who "through many tribulations entered into the kingdom of God." A fight is the very token of a Christian. He is a soldier of Christ; high or low, he is this and nothing else. If you have triumphed over all mortal sin, as you seem to think, then you must attack your venial sins; there is no help for it; there is nothing else to do, if you would be soldiers of Jesus Christ. But, oh, simple souls! to think you have gained any triumph at all! No; you cannot safely be at peace with any, even the least malignant, of the foes of God; if you are at peace with venial sins, be certain that in their company and under their shadow mortal sins are lurking. Mortal sins are the children of venial, which, tho they be not deadly themselves, yet are prolific of death. You may think that you have killed the giants who had possession of your hearts, and that you have nothing to fear, but may sit at rest under your vine and under your fig-tree; but the giants will live again, they will rise from the dust, and, before you know where you are, you will be taken captive and slaughtered by the fierce, powerful, and eternal enemies of God. The end of a thing is the test. It was our Lord's rejoicing in His last solemn hour, that He had done the work for which He was sent. "I have glorified thee on earth." He says in His prayer, "I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do; I have manifested thy name to the men whom thou hast given me out of the world." It was St. Paul's consolation also, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of justice, which the Lord shall render to me in that day, the just judge." Alas! alas! how different will be our view of things when we come to die, or when we have passed into eternity, from the dreams and pretenses with which we beguile ourselves now! What will Babel do for us then? Will it rescue our souls from the purgatory or the hell to which it sends them? If we were created, it was that we might serve God; if we have His gifts, it is that we may glorify Him; if we have a conscience, it is that we may obey it; if we have the prospect of heaven, it is that we may keep it before us; if we have light, that we may follow it, if we have grace, that we may save ourselves by means of it. Alas! alas! for those who die without fulfilling their mission; who were called to be holy, and lived in sin; who were called to worship Christ, and who plunged into this giddy and unbelieving world; who were called to fight, and who remained idle; who were called to be Catholics, and who did but remain in the religion of their birth! Alas for those who have had gifts and talent, and have not used, or have misused, or abused them; who have had wealth, and have spent it on themselves; who have had abilities, and have advocated what was sinful, or ridiculed what was true, or scattered doubts against what was sacred; who have had leisure, and have wasted it on wicked companions, or evil books, or foolish amusements! Alas! for those of whom the best can be said is, that they are harmless and naturally blameless, while they never have attempted to cleanse their hearts or to live in God's sight! The world goes on from age to age, but the Holy Angels and Blessed Saints are always crying Alas, alas! and Wo, wo! over the loss of vocations, and the disappointment of hopes, and the scorn of God's love, and the ruin of souls. One generation succeeds another, and whenever they look down upon earth from their golden thrones, they see scarcely anything but a multitude of guardian spirits, downcast and sad, each following his own charge, in anxiety, or in terror, or in despair, vainly endeavoring to shield him from the enemy, and failing because he will not be shielded. Times come and go, and man will not believe, that that is to be which is not yet, or that what now is only continues for a season, and is not eternity. The end is the trial; the world passes; it is but a pageant and a scene; the lofty palace crumbles, the busy city is mute, the ships of Tarshish have sped away. On heart and flesh death is coming; the veil is breaking. Departing soul, how hast thou used thy talents, thy opportunities, the light poured around thee, the warnings given thee, the grace inspired into thee? Oh, my Lord and Savior, support me in that hour in the strong arms of Thy sacraments, and by the fresh fragrance of Thy consolations. Let the absolving words be said over me, and the holy oil sign and seal me, and Thy own body be my food, and Thy blood my sprinkling; and let my sweet mother Mary breathe on me, and my angel whisper peace to me, and my glorious saints, and my own dear father, Philip, smile on me; that in them all, and through them all, I may receive the gift of perseverance, and die, as I desire to live, in Thy faith, in Thy Church, in Thy service, and in Thy love. BUSHNELL UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE HORACE BUSHNELL was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, in 1802. Graduated at Yale 1827. In 1833 he became pastor of the North Congregational Church, Hartford, Conn., resigned in 1859 and died in 1876. He wrote many theological works. Among them "Christian Nurture" (1847), a book now looked upon as of classical authority. Considerable discussion among Calvinists was aroused by his "Nature and the Supernatural," and his "The Vicarious Sacrifice" (1865) as being out of accord with the accepted creeds of the Congregational churches. He lacked the sympathy and dramatic instinct necessary to great oratorical achievement, but his sermons prove by their profound suggestiveness that he was a man of keen spiritual insight, and preached with force and impressiveness. His influence upon the ministers of America in modifying theology and remolding the general type of preaching is fairly comparable with that of Robertson. BUSHNELL 1802-1876 UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE[4] [4] From "Sermons for the New Life," published by Charles Scribner's Sons. _Then went in also that other disciple._--John xx., 8. In this slight touch or turn of history, is opened to us, if we scan closely, one of the most serious and fruitful chapters of Christian doctrine. Thus it is that men are ever touching unconsciously the springs of motion in each other; thus it is that one man, without thought or intention, or even a consciousness of the fact, is ever leading some other after him. Little does Peter think, as he comes up where his doubting brother is looking into the sepulcher, and goes straight in, after his peculiar manner, that he is drawing in his brother apostle after him. As little does John think, when he loses his misgivings, and goes into the sepulcher after Peter, that he is following his brother. And just so, unaware to himself, is every man, the whole race through, laying hold of his fellow-man, to lead him where otherwise he would not go. We overrun the boundaries of our personality--we flow together. A Peter leads a John, a John goes after Peter, both of them unconscious of any influence exerted or received. And thus our life and conduct are ever propagating themselves, by a law of social contagion, throughout the circles and times in which we live. There are, then, you will perceive, two sorts of influence belonging to man; that which is active or voluntary, and that which is unconscious--that which we exert purposely or in the endeavor to sway another, as by teaching, by argument, by persuasion, by threatenings, by offers and promises, and that which flows out from us, unaware to ourselves, the same which Peter had over John when he led him into the sepulcher. The importance of our efforts to do good, that is of our voluntary influence, and the sacred obligation we are under to exert ourselves in this way, are often and seriously insisted on. It is thus that Christianity has become, in the present age, a principle of so much greater activity than it has been for many centuries before; and we fervently hope that it will yet become far more active than it now is, nor cease to multiply its industry, till it is seen by all mankind to embody the beneficence and the living energy of Christ Himself. But there needs to be reproduced, at the same time, and partly for this object, a more thorough appreciation of the relative importance of that kind of influence or beneficence which is insensibly exerted. The tremendous weight and efficacy of this, compared with the other, and the sacred responsibility laid upon us in regard to this, are felt in no such degree or proportion as they should be; and the consequent loss we suffer in character, as well as that which the Church suffers in beauty and strength, is incalculable. The more stress, too, needs to be laid on this subject of insensible influence, because it is insensible; because it is out of mind, and, when we seek to trace it, beyond a full discovery. If the doubt occur to any of you, in the announcement of this subject, whether we are properly responsible for an influence which we exert insensibly; we are not, I reply, except so far as this influence flows directly from our character and conduct. And this it does, even much more uniformly than our active influence. In the latter we may fail of our end by a want of wisdom or skill, in which case we are still as meritorious, in God's sight, as if we succeeded. So, again, we may really succeed, and do great good by our active endeavors, from motives altogether base and hypocritical, in which case we are as evil, in God's sight, as if we had failed. But the influences we exert unconsciously will almost never disagree with our real character. They are honest influences, following our character, as the shadow follows the sun. And, therefore, we are much more certainly responsible for them, and their effects on the world. They go streaming from us in all directions, tho in channels that we do not see, poisoning or healing around the roots of society, and among the hidden wells of character. If good ourselves, they are good; if bad, they are bad. And, since they reflect so exactly our character, it is impossible to doubt our responsibility for their effects on the world. We must answer not only for what we do with a purpose, but for the influence we exert insensibly. To give you any just impressions of the breadth and seriousness of such a reckoning I know to be impossible. No mind can trace it. But it will be something gained if I am able to awaken only a suspicion of the vast extent and power of those influences, which are ever flowing out unbidden upon society, from your life and character. In the prosecution of my design, let me ask of you, first of all, to expel the common prejudice that there can be nothing of consequence in unconscious influences, because they make no report, and fall on the world unobserved. Histories and biographies make little account of the power men exert insensibly over each other. They tell how men have led armies, established empires, enacted laws, gained causes, sung, reasoned, and taught--always occupied in setting forth what they do with a purpose. But what they do without purpose, the streams of influence that flow out from their persons unbidden on the world, they can not trace or compute, and seldom even mention. So also the public laws make men responsible only for what they do with a positive purpose, and take no account of the mischiefs or benefits that are communicated by their noxious or healthful example. The same is true in the discipline of families, churches, and schools; they make no account of the things we do, except we will them. What we do insensibly passes for nothing, because no human government can trace such influences with sufficient certainty to make their authors responsible. But you must not conclude that influences of this kind are insignificant, because they are unnoticed and noiseless. How is it in the natural world? Behind the mere show, the outward noise and stir of the world, nature always conceals her hand of control, and the laws by which she rules. Who ever saw with the eye, for example, or heard with the ear, the exertions of that tremendous astronomic force, which every moment holds the compact of the physical universe together? The lightning is, in fact, but a mere firefly spark in comparison; but, because it glares on the clouds, and thunders so terribly in the ear, and rives the tree or the rock where it falls, many will be ready to think that it is a vastly more potent agent than gravity. The Bible calls the good man's life a light, and it is the nature of light to flow out spontaneously in all directions, and fill the world unconsciously with its beams. So the Christian shines, it would say, not so much because he will, as because he is a luminous object. Not that the active influence of Christians is made of no account in the figure, but only that this symbol of light has its propriety in the fact that their unconscious influence is the chief influence, and has the precedence in its power over the world. And yet, there are many who will be ready to think that light is a very tame and feeble instrument, because it is noiseless. An earthquake, for example, is to them a much more vigorous and effective agency. Hear how it comes thundering through solid foundations of nature. It rocks a whole continent. The noblest works of man--cities, monuments, and temples--are in a moment leveled to the ground, or swallowed down the opening gulfs of fire. Little do they think that the light of every morning, the soft, and genial, and silent light, is an agent many times more powerful. But let the light of the morning cease and return no more, let the hour of morning come, and bring with it no dawn; the outcries of a horror-stricken world fill the air, and make, as it were, the darkness audible. The beasts go wild and frantic at the loss of the sun. The vegetable growths turn pale and die. A chill creeps on, and frosty winds begin to howl across the freezing earth. Colder, and yet colder, is the night. The vital blood, at length, of all creatures, stops congealed. Down goes the frost toward the earth's center. The heart of the sea is frozen; nay, the earthquakes are themselves frozen in, under their fiery caverns. The very globe itself, too, and all the fellow planets that have lost their sun, are become mere balls of ice, swinging silent in the darkness. Such is the light, which revisits us in the silence of the morning. It makes no shock or scar. It would not wake an infant in his cradle. And yet it perpetually new creates the world, rescuing it each morning, as a prey, from night and chaos. So the Christian is a light, even "the light of the world," and we must not think that, because he shines insensibly or silently, as a mere luminous object, he is therefore powerless. The greatest powers are ever those which lie back of the little stirs and commotion of nature; and I verily believe that the insensible influences of good men are much more potent than what I have called their voluntary, or active, as the great silent powers of nature are of greater consequence than her little disturbances and tumults. The law of human influences is deeper than many suspect, and they lose sight of it altogether. The outward endeavors made by good men or bad to sway others, they call their influence; whereas, it is, in fact, but a fraction, and, in most cases, but a very small fraction, of the good or evil that flows out of their lives. Nay, I will even go further. How many persons do you meet, the insensible influence of whose manners and character is so decided as often to thwart their voluntary influence; so that, whatever they attempt to do, in the way of controlling others, they are sure to carry the exact opposite of what they intend! And it will generally be found that, where men undertake by argument or persuasion to exert a power, in the face of qualities that make them odious or detestable, or only not entitled to respect, their insensible influence will be too strong for them. The total effect of the life is then of a kind directly opposite to the voluntary endeavor, which, of course, does not add so much as a fraction to it. I call your attention, next, to the twofold powers of effect and expression by which man connects with his fellow man. If we distinguish man as a creature of language, and thus qualified to communicate himself to others, there are in him two sets or kinds of language, one which is voluntary in the use, and one that is involuntary; that of speech in the literal sense, and that expression of the eye, the face, the look, the gait, the motion, the tone of cadence, which is sometimes called the natural language of the sentiments. This natural language, too, is greatly enlarged by the conduct of life, that which, in business and society, reveals the principles and spirit of men. Speech, or voluntary language, is a door to the soul, that we may open or shut at will; the other is a door that stands open evermore, and reveals to others constantly, and often very clearly, the tempers, tastes, and motives of their hearts. Within, as we may represent, is character, charging the common reservoir of influence, and through these twofold gates of the soul pouring itself out on the world. Out of one it flows at choice, and whensoever we purpose to do good or evil to men. Out of the other it flows each moment, as light from the sun, and propagates itself in all beholders. Then if we go to others, that is, to the subjects of influence, we find every man endowed with two inlets of impression; the ear and the understanding for the reception of speech, and the sympathetic powers, the sensibilities or affections, for tinder to those sparks of emotion revealed by looks, tones, manners and general conduct. And these sympathetic powers, tho not immediately rational, are yet inlets, open on all sides, to the understanding and character. They have a certain wonderful capacity to receive impressions, and catch the meaning of signs, and propagate in us whatsoever falls into their passive molds from others. The impressions they receive do not come through verbal propositions, and are never received into verbal propositions, it may be, in the mind, and therefore many think nothing of them. But precisely on this account are they the more powerful, because it is as if one heart were thus going directly into another, and carrying in its feelings with it. Beholding, as in a glass, the feelings of our neighbor, we are changed into the same image, by the assimilating power of sensibility and fellow-feeling. Many have gone so far, and not without show, at least, of reason, as to maintain that the look or expression, and even the very features of children, are often changed by exclusive intercourse with nurses and attendants. Furthermore, if we carefully consider, we shall find it scarcely possible to doubt, that simply to look on bad and malignant faces, or those whose expressions have become infected by vice, to be with them and become familiarized to them, is enough permanently to affect the character of persons of mature age. I do not say that it must of necessity subvert their character, for the evil looked upon may never be loved or welcomed in practise; but it is something to have these bad images in the soul, giving out their expressions there, and diffusing their odor among the thoughts, as long as we live. How dangerous a thing is it, for example, for a man to become accustomed to sights of cruelty? What man, valuing the honor of his soul, would not shrink from yielding himself to such an influence? No more is it a thing of indifference to become accustomed to look on the manners, and receive the bad expression of any kind of sin. The door of involuntary communication, I have said, is always open. Of course we are communicating ourselves in this way to others at every moment of our intercourse or presence with them. But how very seldom, in comparison, do we undertake by means of speech to influence others! Even the best Christian, one who most improves his opportunities to do good, attempts but seldom to sway another by voluntary influence, whereas he is all the while shining as a luminous object unawares, and communicating of his heart to the world. But there is yet another view of this double line of communication which man has with his fellow-men, which is more general, and displays the import of the truth yet more convincingly. It is by one of these modes of communication that we are constituted members of voluntary society, and by the other, parts of a general mass, or members of involuntary society. You are all, in a certain view, individuals, and separate as persons from each other; you are also, in a certain other view, parts of a common body, as truly as the parts of a stone. Thus if you ask how it is that you and all men came without your consent to exist in society, to be within its power, to be under its laws, the answer is, that while you are a man, you are also a fractional element of a larger and more comprehensive being, called society--be it the family, the church, the state. In a certain department of your nature, it is open; its sympathies and feelings are open. On this open side you will adhere together, as parts of a larger nature, in which there is a common circulation of want, impulse, and law. Being thus made common to each other voluntarily, you become one mass, one consolidated social body, animated by one life. And observe how far this involuntary communication and sympathy between the members of a state or a family is sovereign over their character. It always results in what we call the national or family spirit; for there is a spirit peculiar to every state and family in the world. Sometimes, too, this national or family spirit takes a religious or an irreligious character, and appears almost to absorb the religious self-government of individuals. What was the national spirit of France, for example, at a certain time, but a spirit of infidelity? What is the religious spirit of Spain at this moment, but a spirit of bigotry, quite as wide of Christianity and destructive of character as the spirit of falsehood? What is the family spirit in many a house, but the spirit of gain, or pleasure, or appetite, in which everything that is warm, dignified, genial, and good in religion, is visibly absent? Sometimes you will almost fancy that you see the shapes of money in the eyes of children. So it is that we are led on by nations, as it were, to good or bad immortality. Far down in the secret foundations of life and society there lie concealed great laws and channels of influence, which make the race common to each other in all the main departments or divisions of the social mass, laws which often escape our notice altogether, but which are to society as gravity to the general system of God's works. But these are general considerations, and more fit, perhaps, to give you a rational conception of the modes of influence and their relative power, than to verify that conception, or establish its truth. I now proceed to add, therefore, some miscellaneous proofs of a more particular nature. And I mention, first of all, the instinct of imitation in children. We begin our mortal experience, not with acts grounded in judgment or reason, or with ideas received through language, but by simple imitation, and, under the guidance of this, we lay our foundations. The child looks and listens, and whatsoever tone of feeling or manner of conduct is displayed around him, sinks into his plastic, passive soul, and becomes a mold of his being ever after. The very handling of the nursery is significant, and the petulance, the passion, the gentleness, the tranquillity indicated by it, are all reproduced in the child. His soul is a purely receptive nature, and that for a considerable period, without choice or selection. A little further on he begins voluntarily to copy everything he sees. Voice, manner, gait, everything which the eye sees, the mimic instinct delights to act over. And thus we have a whole generation of future men, receiving from us their beginnings, and the deepest impulses of their life and immortality. They watch us every moment, in the family, before the hearth, and at the table; and when we are meaning them no good or evil, when we are conscious of exerting no influence over them, they are drawing from us impressions and molds of habit, which, if wrong, no heavenly discipline can wholly remove; or, if right, no bad associations utterly dissipate. Now it may be doubted, I think, whether, in all the active influence of our lives, we do as much to shape the destiny of our fellow-men as we do in this single article of unconscious influence over children. Still further on, respect for others takes the place of imitation. We naturally desire the approbation or good opinion of others. You see the strength of this feeling in the article of fashion. How few persons have the nerve to resist a fashion! We have fashions, too, in literature, and in worship, and in moral and religious doctrine, almost equally powerful. How many will violate the best rules of society, because it is the practise of the circle! How many reject Christ because of friends or acquaintance, who have no suspicion of the influence they exert, and will not have, till the last days show them what they have done! Every good man has thus a power in his person, more mighty than his words and arguments, and which others feel when he little suspects it. Every bad man, too, has a fund of poison in his character, which is tainting those around him, when it is not in his thoughts to do them injury. He is read and understood. His sensual tastes and habits, his unbelieving spirit, his suppressed leer at religions, have all a power, and take hold of the heart of others, whether he will have it so or not. Again, how well understood is it that the most active feelings and impulses of mankind are contagious. How quick enthusiasm of any sort is to kindle, and how rapidly it catches from one to another, till a nation blazes in the flame! In the case of the Crusades you have an example where the personal enthusiasm of one man put all the states of Europe in motion. Fanaticism is almost equally contagious. Fear and superstition always infect the mind of the circle in which they are manifested. The spirit of war generally becomes an epidemic of madness, when once it has got possession of a few minds. The spirit of party is propagated in a similar manner. How any slight operation in the market may spread, like a fire, if successful, till trade runs wild in a general infatuation, is well known. Now, in all these examples, the effect is produced, not by active endeavor to carry influence, but mostly by that insensible propagation which follows, when a flame of any kind is once more kindled. It is also true, you may ask, that the religious spirit propagates itself or tends to propagate itself in the same way? I see no reason to question that it does. Nor does anything in the doctrine of spiritual influences, when rightly understood, forbid the supposition. For spiritual influences are never separated from the laws of thought in the individual, and the laws of feeling and influence in society. If, too, every disciple is to be an "epistle known and read of all men," what shall we expect, but that all men will be somehow affected by the reading? Or if he is to be a light in the world, what shall we look for, but that others, seeing his good works, shall glorify God on his account? How often is it seen, too, as a fact of observation, that one or a few good men kindle at length a holy fire in the community in which they live, and become the leaven of general reformation! Such men give a more vivid proof in their persons of the reality of religious faith than any words or arguments could yield. They are active; they endeavor, of course, to exert a good voluntary influence; but still their chief power lies in their holiness and the sense they produce in others of their close relation to God. It now remains to exhibit the very important fact, that where the direct or active influence of men is supposed to be great, even this is due, in a principal degree, to that insensible influence by which their arguments, reproofs, and persuasions are secretly invigorating. It is not mere words which turn men; it is the heart mounting, uncalled, into the expression of the features; it is the eye illuminated by reason, the look beaming with goodness; it is the tone of the voice, that instrument of the soul, which changes quality with such amazing facility, and gives out in the soft, the tender, the tremulous, the firm, every shade of emotion and character. And so much is there in this, that the moral stature and character of the man that speaks are likely to be well represented in his manner. If he is a stranger, his way will inspire confidence and attract good will. His virtues will be seen, as it were, gathering round him to minister words and forms of thought, and their voices will be heard in the fall of his cadences. And the same is true of bad men, or men who have nothing in their character corresponding to what they attempt to do. If without heart or interest you attempt to move another, the involuntary man tells what you are doing in a hundred ways at once. A hypocrite, endeavoring to exert a good influence, only tries to convey by words what the lying look, and the faithless affectation, or dry exaggeration of his manner perpetually resists. We have it for a fashion to attribute great or even prodigious results to the voluntary efforts and labors of men. Whatever they effect is commonly referred to nothing but the immediate power of what they do. Let us take an example, like that of Paul, and analyze it. Paul was a man of great fervor and enthusiasm. He combined, withal, more of what is lofty and morally commanding in his character, than most of the very distinguished men of the world. Having this for his natural character, and his natural character exalted and made luminous by Christian faith, and the manifest indwelling of God, he had of course an almost superhuman sway over others. Doubtless he was intelligent, strong in argument, eloquent, active, to the utmost of his powers, but still he moved the world more by what he was than by what he did. The grandeur and spiritual splendor of his character were ever adding to his active efforts an element of silent power, which was the real and chief cause of their efficacy. He convinced, subdued, inspired, and led, because of the half-divine authority which appeared in his conduct, and his glowing spirit. He fought the good fight, because he kept the faith, and filled his powerful nature with influences drawn from higher worlds. And here I must conduct you to a yet higher example, even that of the Son of God, the light of the world. Men dislike to be swayed by direct, voluntary influence. They are jealous of such control, and are therefore best approached by conduct and feeling, and the authority of simple worth, which seem to make no purposed onset. If goodness appears, they welcome its celestial smile; if heaven descends to encircle them, they yield to its sweetness; if truth appears in the life, they honor it with a secret homage; if personal majesty and glory appear, they bow with reverence, and acknowledge with shame their own vileness. Now it is on this side of human nature that Christ visits us, preparing just that kind of influence which the spirit of truth may wield with the most persuasive and subduing effect. It is the grandeur of His character which constitutes the chief power of His ministry, not His miracles or teachings apart from His character. Miracles were useful, at the time, to arrest attention, and His doctrine is useful at all times as the highest revelation of truth possible in speech; but the greatest truth of the gospel, notwithstanding, is Christ Himself--a human body becomes the organ of the divine nature, and reveals, under the conditions of an earthly life, the glory of God! The Scripture writers have much to say, in this connection, of the image of God; and an image, you know, is that which simply represents, not that which acts, or reasons, or persuades. Now it is this image of God which makes the center, the sun itself, of the gospel. The journeyings, teachings, miracles, and sufferings of Christ, all had their use in bringing out this image, or what is the same, in making conspicuous the character and feelings of God, both toward sinners and toward sin. And here is the power of Christ--it is that God's beauty, love, truth, and justice shines through Him. It is the influence which flows unconsciously and spontaneously out of Christ, as the friend of man, the light of the world, the glory of the Father, made visible. And some have gone so far as to conjecture that God made the human person, originally, with a view to its becoming the organ or vehicle by which He might reveal His communicable attributes to other worlds. Christ, they believe, came to inhabit this organ, that He might execute a purpose so sublime. The human person is constituted, they say, to be a mirror of God; and God, being imaged in that mirror, as in Christ, is held up to the view of this and other worlds. It certainly is to the view of this; and if the Divine nature can use the organ so effectively to express itself unto us, if it can bring itself, through the looks, tones, motions, and conduct of a human person, more close to our sympathies than by any other means, how can we think that an organ so communicative, inhabited by us, is not always breathing our spirit and transferring our image insensibly to others? I have protracted the argument on this subject beyond what I could have wished, but I can not dismiss it without suggesting a few thoughts necessary to its complete practical effect. One very obvious and serious inference from it, and the first which I will name, is, that it is impossible to live in this world and escape responsibility. It is not that they alone, as you have seen, who are trying purposely to convert or corrupt others, who exert an influence; you can not live without exerting influence. The doors of your soul are open on others, and theirs on you. You inhabit a house which is well-nigh transparent; and what you are within, you are ever showing yourself to be without, by signs that have no ambiguous expression. If you had the seeds of a pestilence in your body, you would not have a more active contagion than you have in your tempers, tastes, and principles. Simply to be in this world, whatever you are, is to exert an influence--an influence, too, compared with which mere language and persuasion are feeble. You say that you mean well; at least, you think you mean to injure no one. Do you injure no one? Is your example harmless? Is it ever on the side of God and duty? You can not reasonably doubt that others are continually receiving impressions from your character. As little you can doubt that you must answer for these impressions. If the influence you exert is unconsciously exerted, then it is only the most sincere, the truest expression of your character. And for what can you be held responsible, if not for this? Do not deceive yourselves in the thought that you are at least doing no injury, and are, therefore, living without responsibility; first, make it sure that you are not every hour infusing moral death insensibly into your children, wives, husbands, friends, and acquaintances. By a mere look or glance, not unlikely, you are conveying the influence that shall turn the scale of some one's immortality. Dismiss, therefore, the thought that you are living without responsibility; that is impossible. Better is it frankly to admit the truth; and if you will risk the influence of a character unsanctified by duty and religion, prepare to meet your reckoning manfully, and receive the just recompense of reward. The true philosophy or method of doing good is also here explained. It is, first of all and principally, to be good--to have a character that will of itself communicate good. There must and will be active effort where there is goodness of principle; but the latter we should hold to be the principal thing, the root and life of all. Whether it is a mistake more sad or more ridiculous, to make mere stir synonymous with doing good, we need not inquire; enough, to be sure that one who has taken up such a notion of doing good, is for that reason a nuisance to the Church. The Christian is called a light, not lightning. In order to act with effect on others, he must walk in the Spirit, and thus become the image of goodness; he must be so akin to God, and so filled with His dispositions, that he shall seem to surround himself with a hallowed atmosphere. It is folly to endeavor to make ourselves shine before we are luminous. If the sun without his beams should talk to the planets, and argue with them till the final day, it would not make them shine; there must be light in the sun itself; and then they will shine, of course. And this, my brethren, is what God intends for you all. It is the great idea of His gospel, and the work of His spirit, to make you lights in the world. His greatest joy is to give you character, to beautify your example, to exalt your principles, and make you each the depository of His own almighty grace. But in order to do this, something is necessary on your part--a full surrender of your mind to duty and to God, and a perpetual desire of this spiritual intimacy; having this, having a participation thus of the goodness of God, you will as naturally communicate good as the sun communicates his beams. Our doctrine of unconscious and undesigning influence shows how it is, also, that the preaching of Christ is often unfruitful, and especially in times of spiritual coldness. It is not because truth ceases to be truth, nor, of necessity, because it is preached in a less vivid manner, but because there are so many influences preaching against the preacher. He is one, the people are many; his attempt to convince and persuade is a voluntary influence; their lives, on the other hand, and especially the lives of those who profess what is better, are so many unconscious influences ever streaming forth upon the people, and back and forth between each other. He preaches the truth, and they, with one consent, are preaching the truth down; and how can he prevail against so many, and by a kind of influence so unequal? When the people of God are glowing with spiritual devotion to Him, and love to men, the case is different; then they are all preaching with the preacher, and making an atmosphere of warmth for his words to fall in; great is the company of them that publish the truth, and proportionally great its power. Shall I say more? Have you not already felt, my brethren, the application to which I would bring you? We do not exonerate ourselves; we do not claim to be nearer to God or holier than you; but, ah! you know how easy it is to make a winter about us, or how cold it feels! Our endeavor is to preach the truth of Christ and His cross as clearly and as forcefully as we can. Sometimes it has a visible effect, and we are filled with joy; sometimes it has no effect, and then we struggle on, as we must, but under great oppression. Have we none among you that preach against us in your lives? If we show you the light of God's truth, does it never fall on banks of ice; which if the light shows through, the crystal masses are yet as cold as before? We do not accuse you; that we leave to God, and to those who may rise up in the last day to testify against you. If they shall come out of your own families; if they are the children that wear your names, the husband or wife of your affections; if they declare that you, by your example, kept them away from Christ's truth and mercy, we may have accusations to meet of our own, and we leave you to acquit yourselves as best you may. I only warn you, here, of the guilt which our Lord Jesus Christ will impute to them that hinder His gospel. * * * * * Transcriber's note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Page 203: "the filth of the world, and the offscouring of all things", shall be found unto praise, and honor, and glory!--The transcriber has supplied the missing closing quoteation mark. Page 206: not only from its condemnation, but from its very "in-being";--The transcriber has supplied the opening quotation mark. 
44450	----	Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). * * * * * [Illustration: coverpage] [Illustration: titlepage] _The World's Great Sermons_ VOLUME IX CUYLER TO VAN DYKE THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS COMPILED BY GRENVILLE KLEISER Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in Public," Etc. With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other Theologians INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D. Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University IN TEN VOLUMES VOLUME IX--CUYLER TO VAN DYKE FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY NEW YORK and LONDON COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY _Printed in the United States of America_ CONTENTS VOLUME IX CUYLER (Born in 1822). Page The Value of Life 1 BROADUS (1827-1895). Let us Have Peace With God 19 WILBERFORCE (Born in 1840). The Mother Church 37 SPALDING (Born in 1840). Education and the Future of Religion 49 MACARTHUR (Born in 1841). Christ--The Question of the Centuries 73 CARPENTER (Born in 1841). The Age of Progress 91 PARKHURST (Born in 1842). Constructive Faith 111 PATTON (Born in 1843). Glorification Through Death 129 SCOTT HOLLAND (Born in 1847). The Story of a Disciple's Faith 145 STALKER (Born in 1848). Temptation 165 BURRELL (Born in 1849). How to Become a Christian 183 WATSON (1850-1907). Optimism 199 NICOLL (Born in 1851). Gethsemane, the Rose Garden of God 211 VAN DYKE (Born in 1852). The Meaning of Manhood 231 CUYLER THE VALUE OF LIFE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Theodore Ledyard Cuyler, Presbyterian divine, was born at Aurora, New York, in 1822. He took his degree at Princeton in 1841, and studied theology in Princeton Seminary. He was ordained to the ministry in 1848, but after discharging the duties of three pastoral positions, took up the prosecution of more general activities, including temperance and philanthropic work. He has been a voluminous writer, having contributed some four thousand articles to leading religious organs. He died February 26, 1909. CUYLER 1822-1909 THE VALUE OF LIFE _The spirit of God hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty hath given me life._--Job xxxiii., 4. There are two conflicting theories, nowadays, as to the origin of man. One theory brings him upward from the brute, the other, downward from God; one gives him an ascent from the ape, the other a descent from the Almighty. I shall waste no time in refuting the first theory. The most profound physicist of Europe, Professor Virchow, of Berlin, has lately asserted that this theory of man's evolution from the brute has no solid scientific foundation. Why need you and I seek to disprove what no man has ever yet proved or will prove? The other theory of man's origin comes down to us in the oldest book in existence, the Book of Job, and tallies exactly with the narrative in the next oldest books, those compiled by Moses: "The spirit of God hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty hath given me life." That is the Bible account of your ancestry and mine. We make a great deal of ancestry. The son of a duke may become a duke; the child of a king has royal blood in his veins; and a vast deal of honor is supposed to descend with an honorable descent. Grant this true, it proves a great deal; it proves more than some of us imagine. It proves that there is something grander than for man to have for his sire a king or an emperor, a statesman or a conqueror, a poet or a philosopher. It looks to the grandest genealogy in the universe, the ancestry of a whole race; not a few favored individuals, but all humanity. My brethren, fellow sharers of immortality, open this family record. Trace your ancestry back to the most august parentage in the universe: One is our Father, God; One our elder brother, Jesus. We all draw lineage from the King of kings and the Lord of lords. Herein consists the value and dignity of human life. I go back to the origin of the globe. I find that for five days the creative hand of the Almighty is busy in fitting up an abode of palatial splendor. He adorns it; He hollows the seas for man's highway, rears the mountains for his observatories, stores the mines for his magazines, pours the streams to give him drink, and fertilizes the fields to give him daily bread. The mansion is carpeted with verdure, illuminated with the greater light by day, lesser lights by night. Then God comes up to the grandest work of all. When the earth is to be fashioned and the ocean to be poured into its bed, God simply says, "Let them be," and they are. When man is to be created, the Godhead seems to make a solemn pause, retires into the recesses of His own tranquillity, looks for a model, and finds it in Himself. "And God said, let us make man in our image, after our likeness.... So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.... So God breathed into man's nostrils the breath of life and he became a living soul." No longer a beautiful model, no longer a speechless statue, but vivified. Life, that subtle, mysterious thing that no physicist can define, whose lurking place in the body no medical eye hath yet found out--life came into the clay structure. He began to breathe, to walk, to think, to feel in the body the "nephesh": the word in the Hebrew means, in the first place, the breath of life, then, finally, by that immortal essence called the soul. Now, it is not my intention to enter into any analysis of this expression, "the spirit," but talk to you on life, its reach and its revenue, its preciousness and its power, its rewards and its retributions, life for this world and the far-reaching world beyond. Life is God's gift; your trust and mine. We are the trustees of the Giver, unto whom at last we shall render account for every thought, word and deed in the body. I. In the first place, life, in its origin, is infinitely important. The birth of a babe is a mighty event. From the frequency of births, as well as the frequency of deaths, we are prone to set a very low estimate on the ushering into existence of an animate child, unless the child be born in a palace or a presidential mansion, or some other lofty station. Unless there be something extraordinary in the circumstances, we do not attach the importance we ought to the event itself. It is only noble birth, distinguished birth, that is chronicled in the journals or announced with salvos of artillery. I admit that the relations of a prince, of a president and statesman, are more important to their fellow men and touch them at more points than those of an obscure pauper; but when the events are weighed in the scales of eternity, the difference is scarcely perceptible. In the darkest hovel in Brooklyn, in the dingiest attic or cellar, or in any place in which a human being sees the first glimpse of light, the eye of the Omniscient beholds an occurrence of prodigious moment. A life is begun, a life that shall never end. A heart begins to throb that shall beat to the keenest delight or the acutest anguish. More than this--a soul commences a career that shall outlast the earth on which it moves. The soul enters upon an existence that shall be untouched by time, when the sun is extinguished like a taper in the sky, the moon blotted out, and the heavens have been rolled together as a vesture and changed forever. The Scandinavians have a very impressive allegory of human life. They represent it as a tree, the "Igdrasil" or the tree of existence, whose roots grow deep down in the soil of mystery; the trunk reaches above the clouds; its branches spread out over the globe. At the foot of it sit the Past, the Present, and the Future, watering the roots. Its boughs, with their unleafing, spread out through all lands and all time; every leaf of the tree is a biography, every fiber a word, a thought or a deed; its boughs are the histories of nations; the rustle of it is the noise of human existence onward from of old; it grows amid the howling of the hurricane, it is the great tree of humanity. Now in that conception of the half savage Norsemen, we learn how they estimated the grandeur of human life. It is a transcendent, momentous thing, this living, bare living, thinking, feeling, deciding. It comes from God; He is its Author; it should rise toward God, its Giver, who is alone worthy of being served; that with God it may live forever. II. In the next place, human life is transcendently precious from the services it may render to God in the advancement of His glory. Man was not created as a piece of guesswork, flung into existence as a waif. There is a purpose in the creation of every human being. God did not breathe the breath of life into you, my friend, that you might be a sensuous or a splendid animal. That soul was given you for a purpose worthy of yourself, still more of the Creator. What is the purpose of life? Is it advancement? Is it promotion? Is it merely the pursuit of happiness? Man was created to be happy, but to be more--to be holy. The wisdom of those Westminster fathers that gathered in the Jerusalem chamber, wrought it into the well-known phrase, "Man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever." That is the double aim of life: duty first, then happiness as the consequence; to bring in revenues of honor to God, to build up His kingdom, spread His truth; to bring this whole world of His and lay it subject at the feet of the Son of God. That is the highest end and aim of existence, and every one here that has risen up to that purpose of life lives. He does not merely vegetate, he does not exist as a higher type of animal: he lives a man's life on earth, and when he dies he takes a man's life up to mingle with the loftier life of paradise. The highest style of manhood and womanhood is to be attained by consecration to the Son of God. That is the only right way, my friends, to employ these powers which you have brought back to your homes from your sanctuary. That is the only idea of life which you are to take to-morrow into the toils and temptations of the week. That is the only idea of life that you are to carry unto God in your confessions and thanksgivings in the closet. That is the only idea of life on which you are to let the transcendent light of eternity fall. These powers, these gifts, the wealth earned, the influence imparted, all are to be laid at the feet of Him who gave His life for you. Life is real, momentous, clothed with an awful and an overwhelming responsibility to its possessor. Nay, I believe that life is the richest of boons, or the most intolerable of curses. Setting before you the power of a well-spent life, I might of course point first to the radiant pathway that extended from Bethlehem's manger to the cross of Calvary. All along that path I read the single purpose of love, all embracing and undying: "My meat is to do the will of him that sent me.... I have glorified thee on earth, I have finished the work thou gavest me to do." Next to that life we place the life begun on the road to Damascus. In him Christ lived again, with wondrous power, present in the utterances and footsteps of the servant. "For me to live is Christ:" that is the master passion of Paul. Whether he ate or drank, gained or lost, wrought or suffered, Christ filled the eye and animated every step. The chief end of Paul was to glorify his Savior; and of the winding-up of that many-sided term of existence he could exclaim, not boastfully, but gladly: "I have fought the good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness." I found myself lately studying with intense interest the biography of Baxter. For half a century that man gave himself to the service of Jesus with a perseverance and industry that shames such loiterers as you and I. Just think of a man that twice on every Lord's day proclaimed the gospel of his Master with most elaborate care and unflinching diligence; on the first two days of the week spent seven hours each day in instructing children of the parish, not omitting a single one on account of poverty or obscurity; think of him as devoting one whole day of each week to care for their bodily welfare, devoting three days to study, during which he prepared one hundred and sixty instructive volumes saturated with the spirit of the word, among them that immortal "Saints' Everlasting Rest," that has guided so many a believer up to glory. The influence of one such life as that changed the whole aspect of the town of Kidderminster. When he came to it, it swarmed with ignorance, profligacy, Sabbath-breaking, vice; when he left it the whole community had become sober and industrious, and a large portion converted and godly. He says: "On the Lord's Day evening you may hear hundreds of families, in their doors singing psalms or reading the Bible, as you pass along the streets." Sixteen hundred sat down at one time to his communion-table. Nearly every house became a house of prayer. Such was one life, the life of a man much of the time an invalid, crying out often unto God for deliverance from the most excruciating bodily pains. Such was one life on which was a stamped "Holiness to Jesus," and out of which flowed the continual efflux of Christian power and beneficence. Such a man never dies. Good men live forever. Old Augustine lives to-day in the rich discourses inspired by his teachings. Lord Bacon lives in the ever-widening circles of engines, telegraph and telephones which he taught men how to invent. Elizabeth Fry lives in the prison reformers following her radiant and beneficial footsteps. Bunyan lies in Bunhill Fields, but his bright spirit walks on the earth in the "Pilgrim's Progress." Calvin sleeps at Geneva, and no man knoweth his sepulcher to this day, but his magnificent "Vindication of God's Sovereignty" will live forever. We hail him as in one sense an ancestor of our republic. Wesley slumbers beside the City Road Chapel; his dead hand rings ten thousand Methodist church bells round the globe. Isaac Watts is dead, but in the chariot of his hymns tens of thousands of spirits ascend to-day in majestic devotion. Howard still keeps prisons clean. Franklin protects our dwellings from lightnings. Dr. Duncan guards the earnings of the poor in the savings-bank. For a hundred years Robert Raikes has gathered his Sunday-schools all over Christendom; and Abraham Lincoln's breath still breathes through the life of the nation to which, under God, he gave a new birth of freedom. The heart of a good man or a good woman never dies. Why, it is infamy to die and not be missed. Live, immortal friend, live as the brother of Jesus, live as a fellow workman with Christ in God's work. Phillips Brooks once said to his people: "I exhort you to pray for fulness of life--full red blood in the body, full and honest truth in the mind, fulness of consecrated love to the dying Savior in the heart." III. In the next place, life is infinitely valuable, not only from the dignity of its origin and the results and revenues it may reach, but from the eternal consequences flowing from it. Ah, this world, with its curtaining of light, its embroideries of the heavens, and its carpeting of verdure, is a solemn vestibule to eternity. My hearer, this world on which you exhibit your nature this morning is the porch of heaven or the gateway of hell. Here you may be laying up treasures through Christ and for Christ, to make you a millionaire to all eternity. Here, by simply refusing to hearken, by rejecting the cross, by grieving the Spirit, you may kindle a flame that shall consume and give birth to a worm of remorse that shall prey on your soul forever and ever. In this brief twenty years, thirty, or forty, you must, without mistake, settle a question, the decision of which shall lift you to the indescribable heights of rapture or plunge you to the depths of darkness and despair. I am a baby at the thought of the word "eternity"; I have racked this brain of mine, in its poverty and its weakness, and have not the faintest conception of it, any more than I have of the omnipresence of Jehovah; yet one is as real as the other, and you and I will go on in the continuation of an existence that outnumbers the years as the Atlantic drops outnumber the drops of a brook; an existence whose ages are more than the stars that twinkled last night in the firmament--an existence interminable, yet all swinging on the pivot of that life in that pew. It is overpowering. How momentous, then, is life! How grand its possession! what responsibility in its very breath! what a crime to waste it! what a glory to consecrate it! what a magnificent outcome when it shall shuffle off the coil, and break itself free from its entanglements, and burst into the presence of its Giver, and rise into all the transcendent glories of its life everlasting! In view of that, what a solemn thing it is to preach God's word, and to stand between the living and the dead! And in view of life, its preciousness and power, its far-reaching rewards and punishments, let me say here, in closing, that there are three or four practical considerations that should be prest home upon us and carried out by us: 1. The first practical thought is, how careful you and I ought to be to husband it. The neglect of life is a sin; it is an insult to God; it is tampering with the most precious trust He bestows. The care of life is a religious duty. A great deal of your happiness depends on it, and I can tell you, my Christian brother, a great deal of your spiritual growth and capacity for usefulness depends on the manner in which you treat this marvelous mechanism of the body. Your religious life is affected by the condition of the body in which the spirit tabernacles. It is not only lying lips, it is "the wilful dyspeptic, that is an abomination to the Lord." Any one that recklessly impairs, imperils and weakens bodily powers by bad hours, unwholesome diet, poisonous stimulants or sensualities, is a suicide; and there are some men, I am afraid, in this congregation that yield themselves such unpitied bond-slaves to the claims of business, that they are shortening life by years and impairing its powers every day. Thousands of suicides are committed every year in Brooklyn by a defiance of the simplest laws of self-preservation and health. What shall we say of him who opens a haunt of temptation, sets out his snares and deliberately deals out death by the dram? So many pieces of silver for so many ounces of blood, and an immortal soul tossed into the balance! If I could let one ray of eternity shine into every dramshop, methinks I could frighten the poison seller back from making his living at the mouth of the pit. 2. Again, in this view of the value of life, what a stupendous crime wanton war becomes--offensive war, such war as multitudes have dashed into from the lust of conquest or the greed of gold. When war is to be welcomed, rather than a nation should commit suicide and the hopes of men perish, then with prayers and self-consecration may the patriot go out to the battle and the sacrifice; but offensive war is a monster of hell. With all our admiration for Napoleon's brilliant and unsurpassed genius, there are passages in his life that make my blood sometimes tingle to the finger ends, and start the involuntary hiss at the very thought of such a gigantic butcher of his fellow creatures. If that man knew that a battery could be carried only at the cost of a legion of men, he never hesitated to order their sacrifice as lightly as he would the life of a gnat. I read that, after what is called his splendid victory of Austerlitz was over and the triumph was won and the iron crown of empire was fixt on his brow, as he stood on the high ground he saw a portion of the defeated Russians making a slow, painful retreat over a frozen lake. They were in his power; he rode up to a battery, and said, "Men you are losing time! fire on those masses; they must be swallowed up! fire on that ice!" The order was executed. Shells were thrown, and went crashing through the brittle bridge of ice, and amid awful shrieks hundreds upon hundreds of poor wretches were buried in the frozen waters of that lake. I believe the dying shrieks of his fellow creatures will haunt the eternity of a man who prostituted the most magnificent powers the Creator fashioned in this our century of time to the awful work of shortening life, tormenting his fellow creatures and sending a million unbidden before God. 3. Once more I emphasize upon you, my beloved people, life, its preciousness and power, its rewards and its retributions. And yet, what a vapor, what a flight of an arrow, what a tale that is told! Short, yet infinite in its reach and its retribution! When life is represented as an arrow flight and a vapor, it is not that it may be underrated in its infinite importance, but only that we may be pushed up to the right sense of its brevity. Everything in God's world ennobles humanity and exhibits life as earnest, solemn, decisive, momentous. The highest ends are proposed to it while it exists, the most magnificent rewards are held out at the termination of its consecrated vitalities. At the end of it is the great white throne, and the decisions of the judgment. Some of you, turning from this discourse this morning, may say it was nothing but sacred poetry because your life is only the steady, monotonous round of a mill-horse--to-morrow across the ferry, home at night--through its routine in the shop, in the counting-room, in the family, on the Sabbath in church--and say, "I see nothing in my life that thus sparkles or shines or has this sublime characteristic!" Ah, my friend, grant that your life may be the mill-round of the mill-horse; you turn a shaft that reaches through the wall into eternity, and the humblest life in this house sets in motion revolving wheels that shall at last grind out for God's garner the precious grain, or else the worthless chaff of a wasted existence. So again I say, life is the porch of eternity, the only one we shall ever have; and you are to decide now whether it shall be the uplift from strength to strength, from glory to glory, or the plunge downward and still downward and deeper downward to darkness and eternal death. My friend, what sort of a life are you living? A really earnest, humble consecration to God? Go on. Live, as I mean to do, as long as God shall spare power and intellectual faculty to serve Him. Live as long as you can, as largely as you can; and then carry all life's accumulation and lay it down at the feet of Him whose heart broke for you and me on the cross of Calvary, and say: "Master, here I am, and the life Thou hast given me." BROADUS LET US HAVE PEACE WITH GOD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John A. Broadus was born in Virginia in 1827. His preeminence as a preacher was attained while he was chiefly occupied as professor of New Testament Interpretation and Homiletics in the Baptist Theological Seminary at Louisville, Kentucky. (Originally established at Greenville, South Carolina.) For many years Dr. Broadus was regarded as the foremost preacher of the South, and was in demand on many important public occasions for sermons and addresses. It has been said that "the thought and the language of his sermons lingered in the mind like strains of melodious and inspiring music." The sermon here given is characteristic of the earnest simplicity of his style, and of the theological and philosophical bent of his homiletic methods. He died in 1895. BROADUS 1827-1895 LET US HAVE PEACE WITH GOD[1] [1] Reprinted by permission of A. C. Armstrong & Son, from "Sermons and Addresses" by John A. Broadus. Copyright, 1886. _Therefore being justified by faith, let us have peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ._--Romans v., 1. (R. V.) It is nearly four centuries ago now, that a young professor from the north of Germany went to Rome. He was a man of considerable learning and of versatile mind. Yet he did not go to Rome to survey the remains of antiquity or the treasures of modern art. He went to Rome because he was in trouble about his sins and could find no peace. Having been educated to regard Rome as the center of the Christian world, he thought he would go to the heart of things and see what he could there find. He had reflected somewhat at home, and had talked with other men more advanced than himself, on the thought that the just shall live by faith; but still that thought had never taken hold of him. We read--some of you remember the story quite well--how one day, according to the strange ideas that prevailed and still prevail at Rome, he went climbing up a stairway on his knees, pausing to pray on every step, to see if that would not help him about his sins. Then, as he climbed slowly up, he seemed to hear a voice echoing down the stairway, "The just shall live by faith; the just shall live by faith." And so he left alone his dead works, he arose from his knees and went down the stairway to his home to think about that great saying, "The just shall live by faith." It is no wonder that with such an experience, and such a nature, Martin Luther should have lived to shake the Christian world with the thought that justification by faith is the great doctrine of Christianity, "the article of a standing or a falling church." It is no wonder that John Wesley, rising up with living earnestness when England was covered with a pall of spiritual death, should have revived the same thought--justification by faith. Yet it is not true that the doctrine of justification by faith is all of the gospel. It is true that the doctrine of justification by faith is simply one of the several ways by which the gospel takes hold of men. You do not hear anything of that doctrine in the Epistles of John. He has another way of presenting the gospel salvation, namely, that we must love Christ, and be like Him, and obey Him. I think sometimes that Martin Luther made the world somewhat one-sided by his doctrine of justification by faith; that the great mass of the Protestant world are inclined to suppose there is no other way of looking on the gospel. There are very likely some here to-day who would be more imprest by John's way of presenting the matter; but probably the majority would be more imprest by Paul's way, and it is our business to present now this and now that, to present first one side and then the other. So we have here before us to-day Paul's great doctrine of justification by faith, in perhaps one of his most striking statements. "Therefore, being justified by faith, let us have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." My friends, we talk and hear about these gospel truths, and repeat these Scripture words, and never stop to ask ourselves whether we have a clear idea of what is meant. What does Paul mean when he talks about being justified? There has been a great deal of misapprehension as to his meaning. Martin Luther was all wrong in his early life, because he had been reared up in the idea that a justified man means simply a just man, a good man, and that he could not account himself justified or hope for salvation until he was a thoroughly good man. Now, the Latin word from which we borrow our word "justified" does not mean to make just, and as the Romanists use the Latin, their error is natural. But Paul's Greek word means not to make just, but to regard as just, to treat as just. That is a very important difference--not to make just, but to regard and treat as just. How would God treat you, if you were a righteous man; if you had, through all your life, faithfully performed all your duties, conforming to all your relations to your fellow beings--how would He regard and treat you? He would look upon you with complacency. He would smile on you as one that was in His sight pleasing. He would bless you as long as you lived in this world, and, when you were done with this world, He would delight to take you home to His bosom, in another world, because you would deserve it. And now as God would treat a man who was just because he deserved it, so the gospel proposes to treat men who are not just and who do not deserve it, if they believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. He will treat them as just, tho they are not just, if they believe in Christ; that is to say, he will look upon them with His favor; He will smile upon them in His love; He will bless them with every good as long as they live, and when they die He will delight to take them home to His own bosom, tho they never deserved it, through His Son, Jesus Christ. That is what Paul means by justification. And when Martin Luther found that out he found peace. This Epistle to the Romans had always stopt his progress when reading the New Testament. He would read, in the Latin version, "For therein is revealed the justice of God," and he felt in his heart that God's justice must condemn him. But now he came to see what was really meant by the righteousness of God, the righteousness which God provides and bestows on the believer in Jesus. A sinful man, an undeserving man, may get God Almighty's forgiveness and favor and love, may be regarded with complacency and delight, tho he does not deserve it, if he believes in the Lord Jesus Christ. That is justification by faith. It is one thing to take hold of this matter in the way of doctrinal conception and expression, and of course, God be thanked! it is another thing to receive it in the heart. There are many people who get hold of it all in the heart with trust and peace that never have a correct conception of it as a doctrine. Yet I suppose it is worth while that we should endeavor to see these things clearly. Other things being equal, they will be the holiest and most useful Christians who have the clearest perception of the great facts and truths of the gospel. So I recommend to you that whenever any one tries to explain to you one of these great doctrinal truths, you shall listen with fixt attention and see if you can not get a clearer view of the gospel teachings on that subject, for it will do you good. Now let us come to the second thought here, viz., being justified by faith. A man might say, if God proposes to deal with those who are not just, as if they were, why does He condition it upon believing in the gospel of Jesus Christ? Why can not God proclaim a universal amnesty at once, and be done with it, to all His sinful, weak children, and treat them all as if they were just, without their believing? I don't think this is hard to see. God does not merely propose to deal with us for the time being as if we were just, but He proposes in the end to make us actually just. It would be an unsatisfactory salvation to a right-minded man if God proposed merely to exempt us from the consequences of our sins and not to deliver us from our sins. You do not want merely to escape punishment for sin without ever becoming good; you want to be righteous and holy, you want to be delivered from sin itself as well as from the consequences of sin. And this gospel, which begins by its proclamation that God is willing to treat men as just, altho they are not just, does not stop there. It proposes to be the means by which God will take hold of men's characters and make them just, make them holy. You may, for the moment, conceive of such a thing as that God should make a proclamation of universal amnesty, and treat all men as if they were just; but that would not make them any better. The gospel is not merely to deliver us from the consequence of sin, but to deliver us from the power of sin. You can conceive of an amnesty as to the consequence of sin, which should extend to persons that will not even believe there is such an amnesty; but you can not see how the gospel is to have any power in delivering us from the dominion of sin, unless we believe the gospel. It can do so only through belief. Therefore it is not possible that a man should be justified without belief. I think it is useful that we should thus try to see that this is not a matter of mere arbitrary appointment on the part of the sovereign Power of the universe, but that the condition is necessary--that it can not be otherwise. "Being justified by faith," it reads; and we can not be justified without faith, because the same gospel is also to take hold of us and make us just. And now, some one who feels a little freshened interest in this subject, some man who has never got hold of the gospel faith, says to himself: "I wonder if the preacher is going to explain to me what believing is, what faith is. I never heard any one succeed in explaining faith." Well, if you will pardon me, the best explanation of faith I ever heard was given by a negro preacher in Virginia. As the story was told me, one Sunday afternoon, a few years ago, some negroes were lying on the ground together, and one of them spoke and said, "Uncle Reuben, can you explain this: Faith in de Lord, and faith in de debbil?" "To be sure I can. There is two things: in de fust place, faith in de Lord, and then faith in de debbil. Now, in the fust place, fustly, there is faith. What is faith? Why, faith is jes faith. Faith ain't nothing less than faith. Faith ain't nothing more than faith. Faith is jest faith--now I done splain it." Really, that man was right, there is nothing to explain. Faith is as simple a conception as the human mind can have. How, then, can you explain faith? You are neither able to analyze it into parts, nor can you find anything simpler with which to compare it. So also as to some other things, that are perfectly easy and natural in practical exercise, and can not be explained. What is love? Well, I won't go into an elaborate metaphysical definition of love, but if I wanted a child to love me, I should try to exhibit myself in such a character to him and act in such ways that the little child would see in me something to love, and would feel like loving. There would then be no need of an explanation of what love is. Did you ever hear a satisfactory definition of laughter? If you wanted to make a man laugh, would you attempt to define laughter to him? You might possibly succeed in making a laughable definition; but otherwise definitions won't make a man laugh. You would simply say or do something ludicrous, and he would laugh readily enough if he was so disposed; and if the man be not in a mood for laughing, all your explanations are utterly useless. And so what is faith? There is nothing to explain. Everybody knows what faith is. If you want to induce a man to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, you must hold up the Lord to him in His true character, and then, if he is in a mood to believe, he will believe, and if he is disinclined to belief, all your explanations will be fruitless. The practical result may even be obstructed by attempts to explain. What is faith? You know what faith is. Every one knows. Well, then, a man might say, "If you mean by faith in the Lord the simple idea of believing what the Scripture says concerning Him, the idea of believing its teachings about the Lord Jesus Christ to be true, if that is what faith means, then all of us are believers, all have faith." I am afraid not. I am afraid there are some here who have not faith. Has a man faith in the Lord Jesus Christ who simply does not disbelieve in him? I may not deny that what the gospel says is true, but is that believing? Yonder sits a gentleman; suppose some one should come hastily up the aisle, calling his name, and say, "Your house is afire." The gentleman sits perfectly quiet and looks unconcerned, as people so often do when listening to preaching. The man repeats it: "I say your house is afire." But still he sits in his place. Some one near him says, "You hear what that man says. Do you believe it?" "Yes, I believe it," he carelessly replies, and does not stir. You would all say, "The man is insane, or certainly he does not believe it; for if he did, he would not sit perfectly still and remain perfectly unconcerned." Even so when the preacher speaks of sin and guilt and ruin, of God's wrath and the fire that is not quenched; or when he stands with joyful face and proclaims to his hearers that for their sin and ruin there is a Savior; and they say they believe, and yet look as if it were of no concern to them at all; then I say they do not believe it--the thing is not possible. They may not disbelieve it; they may not care to make an attempt to overturn it; they may be in a sort of negative mood; but they do not believe it. With that statement I suppose there are a great many of us who concur and who will at once say, "Often I fear that I do not really believe it. If I did believe it, the gospel would have more power over my heart and more power over my life than it does have. And what, oh, what shall I do?" The preacher has to remind you of that father to whom the Savior came when the disciples had tried in vain to heal his suffering child. Jesus said to him: "All things are possible to him that believeth;" and he replied: "I believe; help thou my unbelief." That should be your cry: "I believe; help thou my unbelief." The man would not deny that he believed, and yet felt bound to add that he knew he did not believe as he ought to. Now the comfort is, that He who sees all hearts accepted that man's confessedly imperfect faith, and granted his request. That has often been the preacher's comfort as he uttered the same cry, "I believe; help thou my unbelief"; and God give it as a comfort to you! But do not content yourself with such a state of things, with any such feeble, half-way believing. Nay, let us cherish all that tends to strengthen our faith in the gospel; let us read the Word of God, praying that we may be able to believe; let us say from day to day, as the disciples said: "Lord, increase our faith." The text proceeds: "Therefore, being justified by faith, let us have peace with God." Instead of the declaration, "We have peace with God," the best authorities for the text make it an exhortation, "Let us have peace with God"; and so the revised version reads. Some critics admit that the documents require us so to read, but say that they can see no propriety in an exhortation at this point--that it seems much more appropriate to understand the apostle as asserting a fact. Yet I think we can see meaning and fitness in the text as corrected: "Being justified by faith, let us have peace with God." Let us have peace with God, notwithstanding our unworthiness. My friends, we can not have peace with God so long as we cling to the notion that we are going to deserve it. Just there is the difficulty with many of those who are trying to be at peace with God. They have been clinging to the thought that they must first become worthy, and then become reconciled to God; and they will have to see more clearly that they must come to Christ in order that, being reconciled, they may be made good, may become worthy. We may say there are two conceivable ways to have peace with God. It is conceivable to have peace with God through our worthiness, and it is conceivable and also practicable to have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, tho we be unworthy. Then let us have peace with Him, altho so unworthy, through our Lord Jesus Christ. Again, let us have peace with God, tho we are still sinful and unholy, tho we know we come far short in character and in life of what God's children ought to be. We must be, ought to be, intensely dissatisfied with ourselves; but let us be satisfied with our Savior, and have peace with God through Him; not content with the idea of remaining such as we are, but, seeing that the same gospel which offers us forgiveness and acceptance offers us also a genuine renewal through our Lord Jesus Christ, and promises that finally we shall be made holy, as God is holy, shall indeed be perfect, as our Father in heaven is perfect. Let us rejoice in the gracious promise of that perfect life, and, while seeking to be what we ought to be, let us have peace with God. Our sanctification is still sadly imperfect--the best of us well know that, and probably the best of us feel it most deeply; but if we believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, our justification is perfect. We can never be more justified than we are now justified, tho we shall be more and more made holy as long as we live, and at last made perfectly holy as we pass into the perfect world. My brethren, do think more and talk more of that. It is an intensely practical matter, not only for your comfort but for the strength of your life. If we believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, altho we are painfully conscious that we are far from being in character and life what we ought to be, yet, through the perfect justification which we have at once, we shall in the end by His grace be made perfectly holy. Let us have peace with God, tho we have perpetual conflict with sin. What a singular idea! Peace with God, and yet conflict, yes, perpetual conflict, with a thousand forms of temptation to sin, temptations springing from spiritual tempters--perpetual conflict, and yet peace with God. Is not that conceivable? Is not that possible? In this conflict we are on the Lord's side; in this conflict the Lord is on our side; and so, tho the battle must be waged against every form of sin, we may have peace with God. And finally, let us have peace with God tho He leaves us to suffer a thousand forms of distress and trial. "Let us have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom also we have had access by faith into this grace wherein we stand; and let us rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only so, but let us also rejoice in our tribulations; knowing that tribulation worketh patience; and patience, proving; and proving, hope; and hope maketh not ashamed, because the love of God hath been shed abroad in our hearts through the Holy Ghost which was given unto us." Surely man may have peace with God, tho he be left to suffer. For none of these things can separate us from God's love. Who shall separate us from Christ's love? "For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, neither angels nor principalities nor powers, neither things present nor things to come, neither height nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." When we are in trouble, let us take fast hold upon that great thought, that trouble does not divide us from the love of God. Yea, God's peace can conquer trouble, and guard us, as in a fortress, against its assaults. "In nothing be anxious; but in everything, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus." WILBERFORCE THE MOTHER CHURCH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Ernest Roland Wilberforce, son of Samuel Wilberforce, bishop of Winchester, was born in 1840, and educated at Harrow and Oxford. He was appointed bishop of Newcastle in 1882, and thence translated to Chichester in 1895. WILBERFORCE Born in 1840 THE MOTHER CHURCH[2] [2] From "The Anglican Pulpit." Reprinted by permission of the publishers, Messrs. Hodder & Stoughton. _Take up thy son._--2 Kings iv., 36. There is a metallic sound about most missionary sermons which seems, at least to some, instinctively to harden the hearts and to invalidate the sympathies of the listeners. The jingle of the coming collection appears to be inextricably mixed up with the solemn truths and heartfelt appeals that flow so often from the preacher's lips, and we feel that at least we would rather separate the two by as wide a chasm of intervening time as may be possible consistently with the well-known cooling tendencies of all human emotions. I have no reason to think that this sermon will prove itself to be in any real sense an exception to this general rule, and yet, my brethren, I seek, as God may now enable me, to remind you very briefly of some of the deeper principles that underlie all missionary success, believing as I do that these are possest of a peculiar power of eliciting enduring support, since they flow from the bosom of the Godhead itself. "Take up thy son." God alone, it has been said, who Himself created it, can fully understand the infinite pathos of human nature. Certain it is that beneath the inspired record the histories of men and women of old begin to sparkle and to burn as, endowed with life and personality, they act anew their histories before us as we sympathize with their mistakes, wonder at their endurance, admire them for the traits of humanity they display, and feel drawn toward them by the attractive power of their love; we feel that we can be no longer really solitary here below, that, however tiresome may be our lot, we have friends who speak from those old records, friends who link yet living hands the closer round our hearts as we see much of our own life-history faithfully anticipated in theirs, and learn to read the solution of many of the struggles of the present in the difficulties of the past. "Take up thy son." From that old chamber, built originally to form a sanctuary for the honored servant of his God, where now the corpse of the only child of the household is lying, there seems to me to speak a voice of prophecy with regard to God's dealings with humanity at large. It was a time of overshadowing and of darkness in that Eastern household. The death of her son, marvelously given in her husband's old age, had left the mother's heart a thousand times more aching, crusht, and weary than before. Instinctively that heart reaches out toward the man of God. The mother's feet are turned to Carmel. She will accept no substitute; no wand of office, no symbol of authority will satisfy the eager cravings of her love. Drawn by the cords of that great, all-constraining power, at length the prophet stands within the darkened room, and through the personal contact of the prophet with the dead, the power of God revives the corpse. So both in the distance and within the darkened room, while anxious, expectant hearts keep watch below, do Elisha's actions typify the deeds of One Who within a thousand years will walk the streets and lanes of Eastern towns, and will be known by loving hearts throughout the countryside. Humanity had died by sin throughout all the bygone ages; the symbols of authority from the Carmel of God's presence had been reached down to men upon the Fall. On human nature, wrapt in the fell sleep of sin, the wand of office had been used, but there had been no bringing back to life. Messenger after messenger had come, men who had communed with their God, as undoubtedly as Gehazi had left the presence of Elisha to go that day to Shunem; but there was neither voice nor hearing, and sorrowfully still each servant witnessed in succession to his mission: "The child is not awaked." Ah, who, my brethren, should venture to guess, still less to dogmatize, how prayer might be said to quicken the accomplishment of the counsels of the triune God? Yet had prayer no part in the plan of the Incarnation? If the love of the Shunammite mother compelled the presence of the prophet, could then one of the greatest moral forces known within the universe be purposely excluded from the great work of man's redemption by the God Who has caused it to be recorded of Himself, "Thou nearest prayer?" Could fervent prayer and mighty intercession that rolled upward from the breasts of so long a line of kings, and patriarchs, and prophets, and so many a lonely and unnoticed spot amid the hills and valleys of Judah, where Baal found seven thousand knees that were recalcitrant to his false and bloody worship, even when the great Elijah believed himself to be alone in the one worship of the true God of Israel; could the longings of the hearts that desired to behold the things that after-generations saw, could the cry of the souls from under the altar, "Oh, Lord, how long?" could, I ask, all these be fruitless and in vain? Or had each its own due place at least in hastening the coming of the kingdom, and in determining when the fulness of time had arrived? This, at least, is sure. Constrained by the laws of an imperious love, God gave Himself to bring what all His messengers had failed to convey. Clothed in that very flesh which once by sin had died, Christ stood in personal relations to mankind, His hand in theirs, His eyes to their eyes, His mouth to their mouth; and lo! beneath His personal contact there began to glow again the warmth of pristine life which once had burned in Eden, when God and man held free and undiverted commerce. And then Christ filled up full with all its spiritual meaning that final action of the Syrian prophet which had seemed to be so simple and so natural. For, ere He left the arena where He had proved Himself to be the Conqueror of death, Christ called forth the Church which He had formed, and He bade it tend the life which He had reimplanted in the hearts of men, accompanying the mighty commission with a plenary promise of abiding power: "Shepherd my sheep; feed my lambs: lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Uniformity of action in every position, mechanical exactness in every class of work, whether you evangelize under frozen climes or torrid zones, whether you preach to polished Eastern intellects or instruct the degraded savage, is neither to be expected nor yet to be desired. The religion that becomes mechanical always stops itself. But within the lines of her commission the Church of God is bound to show in practise that she can touch all hearts, enlist all sympathies, influence all lives, gather up into her ample bosom all whom the Master loves; just as a mother folds to her heart the entire members of her family, irrespective of their diversity of tastes, habits, and mode of life, nay, even in spite of their failings, and often of their sins, and beneath the loving sympathy of that loving embrace all know instinctively that they have each their own peculiar place within the many mansions of the widely loving heart. We are living in an age of development. Within old bottles it is certain new wine is beginning to ferment, and elemental forces gather for the strife. Life implies assimilation; assimilation means union of powers, or new energies rising out of such combinations. In early days the Church of Christ assimilated the life, the teachings, the powers around her, casting out the false, ennobling the true; and she became the living force to which the history of the world bears testimony. And what does all this teach us? Even that as a mother adapts herself to the varying characters displayed by her children in her wise government of the family, so must the Church of England in all her work take up her son into her bosom, teaching the good and enforcing the true, yet adapting her methods to win wisely, to win surely, to establish a lasting yet a spiritual dominion. Here there is a real danger, one all the more real because speciously veiled from our sight; philanthropy is busy around us--so much so that now it is almost a reproach not to be the instigator of half a dozen schemes for the elevation of this class or that people, or of some other country. But is not this far too often accompanied by a revolt from all dogmatic truth? Are not many of these schemes simply social and not religious, and, therefore, at best, temporary rather than eternal in their aims, since they are founded upon man, and not upon God? Religious feeling, I fear, is dying. The past acquirements of man are ever laughed to scorn by the succeeding generation. These are not to be the standard to which all is to be referred. Utilitarian principles and emotional subjectivity seem now to go hand in hand; and the old formula, "Thus saith the Lord," is to be a formula no more amid the forces of the world; religious feeling, I say, I fear, is ebbing away, and with it goes infallibly all real missionary enterprise. These are inseparably linked. If it be true, as it is, that the spiritual life of a nation, a parish, or an individual be in danger of languishing unto death unless there be in it some manifestation of missionary zeal, so also is it true that unless there be some more powerful lever at work than mere desire for social reformation, unless God be the end and the object of life, then no one will continue to spread God's teaching, or to carry far and wide the good news of the Son of man. The first human mother came from out of the side of Adam at the call of God; our great spiritual mother came from the side of Christ our Lord. Oh, my brethren, we have so much to thank God for; so much that bids us now take courage, so much that ennobles our aims and helps to strengthen our objects. From all parts of the world, wherever the energy of Englishmen has penetrated, there now is coming the cry in gathering tones, "Take up thy son." Hearts are asking for the priceless boon of the gospel to be preached to them. Heathen tribes are looking wistfully across the waste of intervening waters, and rich England, rich in her transmitted treasure of dogmatic truth and revealed faith, rich in her dower of sons as well as in her possession of silver and gold, is giving as yet an insufficient answer, and has not as yet fully embraced her son. How long shall there be this suspense, as that of early dawn ere the sunshine fills the twilight? Let there be but more true love and warmth in the mother's heart, let there be, that is, a revival of spiritual life at home, and once more shall it be said, "Great was the company of preachers," as in the iron-clad armor of chastity, temperance, and righteousness, men go forth to work and win for Christ. Have ye each made this yet sufficiently a matter of prayer, of self-denial, of deep, faithful trusting all to God? My brothers, in the kingdom and patience of our God already clarion notes are sounding out around us, and signs are but repeating notes of warning. Messages of deep importance seem to tremble in the air, forces to be gathering for some greater conflict than has been ever known before. Community of work is producing unity in thought; hands are clasping now that have been kept asunder far too long. The earth is being girdled gradually with spiritual fortresses, whence is flashed on and ever on the golden light till Christ shall come again and claim His bride. Can we then wonder at all forms of opposition meeting us? But gathering gradually is the mighty family which in the day of revelation shall call God their Father. Some time will the fellow soldiers know one another; some day shall the long muster roll be called. Then will the Captain of our salvation gather all His children round Him. Is it long to wait, hard to fight, difficult to keep up the spirit during the discouragements that beset all missionary life? Do they wear too dark a hue at times? Lo, the words of Revelation are now finding echo in the pages of science, and in unison these voices blend. Beneath us even now this solid orb begins to know fatigue and to slacken in its course. Remarkable words lately written are these: "Even now as the earth circles on in her appointed orbit, the northern ice-cap slowly thickens, and the time gradually approaches when its glaciers will flow again, and austral seas, sweeping northward, bury the seeds of present civilization under ocean wastes, as it may be they now bury what once was as high a civilization as our own. And beyond these periods science discovers a dead earth, an exhausted sun, a time when, clashing together, the solar system shall resolve itself into a gaseous form, again to begin immeasurable mutations." What Revelation has loudly declared, that science is now at length beginning to understand. From both, I say, the voices call; they blend into a trumpet warning mellowed with unutterable pathos: "Work while it is day; take up thy son." SPALDING EDUCATION AND THE FUTURE OF RELIGION BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE John Lancaster Spalding, Roman Catholic bishop and author, was born in Lebanon, Kentucky, in 1840. He was educated at Mount St. Mary's College, and at the University of Louvain, Belgium. Ordained a priest in 1863, he was six years later chosen as secretary and chancellor of the diocese of Louisville. In 1877 he was appointed to similar offices in the diocese of Peoria. He is a typical modern bishop, of the Cardinal Manning type, and the activity which he displayed in recent social and educational movements was recognized by his appointment to serve on the President's commission to investigate strikes, in 1902. The trend of his literary work may be seen in his volumes on "Education and the Higher Life" (1890); "Socialism and Labor" (1902); "Religion, Agnosticism and Education" (1902). SPALDING Born in 1840 EDUCATION AND THE FUTURE OF RELIGION[3] [3] Reprinted by permission of Messrs. A. C. McClurg & Co., from Bishop Spalding's "Religion, Agnosticism and Education." _It is the spirit that quickeneth; the flesh profiteth nothing; the words that I have spoken unto you are spirit and are life._--John vi., 63. The greatest service we can do a human being is to give him a right education, physical, intellectual, moral and religious. If it is our duty to do good to all; as far as in us lies, it is our duty to labor for the education of all, that no child of God may live with an enfeebled body, or a darkened mind, or a callous heart, or a perverted conscience. Since it is our duty to educate, it is our duty to give the best education; and, first of all, to give the best education to woman; for she, as mother, is the aboriginal God-appointed educator. What hope is there of genuine progress, in the religious life especially, if we leave her uneducated? Where woman is ignorant, man is coarse and sensual; where her religion is but a superstition, he is skeptical and irreverent. If we are to have a race of enlightened, noble and brave men, we must give to woman the best education it is possible for her to receive. She has the same right as man to become all that she may be, to know whatever may be known, to do whatever is fair and just and good. In souls there is no sex. If we leave half the race in ignorance, how shall we hope to lift the other half into the light of truth and love? Let woman's mental power increase, let her influence grow, and more and more she will stand by the side of man as a helper in all his struggles to make the will of God prevail. From the time the virgin mother held the infant Savior in her arms to this hour, woman has been the great lover of Christ and the unwearying helper of His little ones; and the more we strengthen and illumine her, the more we add to her sublime faith and devotion the power of knowledge and culture, the more efficaciously will she work to purify life, to make justice, temperance, chastity, and love prevail. She is more unselfish, more capable of enthusiasm for spiritual ends, she has more sympathy with what is beautiful, noble and godlike than man; and the more her knowledge increases, the more shall she become a heavenly force to spread God's kingdom on earth. Doubtless our failure to win the hearts of all men is due in no slight degree to our indifference to the education of woman. The Church, in virtue of its divine institution, has the supreme and absolute right to teach Christian truth and thereby to influence all education. To her alone Christ gave the commission to teach whatsoever He had revealed and commanded; and none who believe that He speaks the words of the eternal Father may refuse to hearken to the voice of His historic Church uttering the things that appertain to religion and salvation. Christ did not send His apostles to teach all knowledge, but to teach His religion; to teach the worship of God in spirit and in truth, in lowliness of mind and purity of heart, as men who hunger and thirst for righteousness. In all that concerns the religious life the Church has the office of Christ, represents Him and speaks with His authority; and to enable her to do this with infallible certainty, the Holy Ghost was sent and abides with her. But Christ did not teach literature, philosophy, history, or science; and consequently He did not establish His Church to teach these things. He founded a Church, not an academy. _Non in dialectica complacuit Deo salvum facere populum suum._ He left natural knowledge where he found it; left it to grow by accretion and development, through the activity of special minds and races, with the process of the ages. He bade His apostles teach whatsoever things He had commanded them--the doctrines of salvation and the principles of Christian living. These things He came to reveal; these He lived and died to plant in the minds and hearts of men as seeds of immortal life. God doubtless might have made known from the beginning all the truths of science; but this was not part of the divine economy. For thousands of years the race was left to make its way amid the darkness of universal ignorance; and when here and there a ray of light fell from some mind of genius, it seemed quickly to be extinguished amid the general obscurity. The philosophy and the science of Plato and Aristotle had been in the world for three centuries when Christ came, but He made no allusion whatever to them. He neither praised nor blamed these great masters of all who know. Those whom He denounced were not the teachers of wisdom, but the formalists, who, holding rigidly to the letter of the law, and adding observance to observance and rule to rule, had lost the spirit of religion, had apostatized from the infinite love, which is God. Christ came to bring immortal faith and hope and love to man. He uttered no word which might lead us to suppose that He considered literature or philosophy or history or science as an obstacle to the worship of God in spirit and in truth. He denounces greed and lust and indifference and heartlessness; but He does not warn against the desire to know, the desire to upbuild one's being on every side, to become more and more like unto God in power, in wisdom, in goodness, and in beauty. He lays the stress of His example and teaching upon religion, upon eternal things. He tells us that we can not serve God and Mammon, but He does not say that faith and reason conflict. We are human because God is present in the soul; we have reason because the divine light shines within us--the light which enlighteneth every man that cometh into this world. There can be no real contradiction between God and His universe, between nature and the supernatural, between faith and knowledge. On the contrary, the universe is the manifestation of God's wisdom, goodness and power. Nature and the supernatural both come from Him; and in wider and deeper knowledge, we shall find a foundation for a mightier and more spiritual faith in the eternal Father and His divine Son. Truth can not contradict truth; for truth is true because it is enrooted in God, who is absolute truth and at one with Himself. Things are what they are, and God has given us reason, that we may see them as they are. The false can never be proven to be true, and the Author of truth can not teach error or give grace to believe error. All truth is orthodox, whether it come to us through revelation, reaffirmed by the voice of the Church, or whether it come in the form of certain and scientific knowledge. Both the Church and the men of science must accept the validity of reason, and must therefore hold that reason can not contradict itself. Knowledge and faith both do God's work, both help to build man's being into ever-increasing likeness to Him. Let us not emphasize the opposition between the temporal and the eternal. God is even here, and even now we are immortal; and whatever helps us to do His will by serving more effectively our fellow men, is sacred and of priceless worth. The giving of a cup of water in the right spirit is divine service; and so is the patient research which leads to a knowledge of the causes of suffering and disease, and thereby enables us to shut out pestilence or to make uninhabitable regions wholesome. How infinitely difficult it is to preach the gospel effectively to those who live in ignorance and poverty as in the shadow of the darkness of death! All who have striven and who strive to educate the whole people, to bring opportunity of a freer and more human life to all, have been and are, whether intentionally or not, workers in the cause of Christ for the salvation of men. With what misgiving Catholics and Protestants regarded scientific astronomy when it first began to gain acceptance! And yet what has it done but make known to us a universe infinitely more wonderful and sublime than men had ever dreamed of? So it is with all advancing knowledge. In widening our view of God's work, it gives us a more exalted conception of His absolute perfection; and at the same time it puts into our hands more efficient means of working for the good of man. A truly catholic spirit deems nothing that may be of service to man foreign to the will of God, as revealed in Christ. We hold fast to the principle of authority; and at the same time we believe that man's mind is free, and that he has the right to inquire into and learn whatever may be investigated and known. If the Church is to live and prosper in the modern world, Catholics must have not only freedom to learn, but also freedom to teach. The spirit is not a mechanism, and when it is made subject to mechanical rules and methods it loses self-activity, becomes dwarfed and formal, and little by little sinks into impotence. A servile mind can never know the truth which liberates. Christ did not found His Church to solve philosophic, scientific, or historic problems. These have been left to human research; but Catholics, if they hope to present effectively their supernatural beliefs to an age of civilization and culture, must not neglect the chief means by which the mind is made strong, supple, and luminous. Our men of ability, whether priests or laymen, must be encouraged to put to good use the talents with which the Creator has entrusted them; and to prepare them for this all-important work we must leave nothing undone to provide them with schools equal to the best. If we isolate ourselves and fall out of the highest intellectual and moral life of the world around us, we shall fatally drift into a position of inferiority, and lose the power to make ourselves heard and understood. If in the early centuries of Christianity the Church was able to take to itself what was true and good in pagan philosophy and culture; if St. Augustine and St. Thomas of Aquino knew how to compel Plato and Aristotle to become helpers in the cause of Christ, why should we lose heart and imagine that the Church has lost the faculty of assimilation? She is old, indeed, but she is also young, having the promise of immortal life; and therefore she can never lack the power to adapt herself to the requirements of an ever-revolving environment. Since Christ has made the success of His religion largely dependent on human effort, not annuling nature by grace, but heightening rather the play of free-will, we must know how to make use of our best and strongest men; for an institution which can not make use of its best and strongest men is decadent. What is there to fear? Is it conceivable that human error shall prevail against God's truth? Does the religion of Christ, the absolute and abiding faith, need the defense of concealment, or of sophistical apology, or of lies? Truth is the supreme good of the mind, as holiness is that of the heart; and truthfulness is the foundation of righteousness. The most certain result of the philosophic thought of the last hundred years is that the primal cause and final end of all things is spiritual, not mechanical or material. If only we go deep enough, we never fail to find God and the soul. Shall we dread the results of historical research? In the Church, as in the world, good has been mingled with evil--the cockle with the wheat. What God has permitted to happen, man may be permitted to know; and if we are wise, we may glean, even from the least promising fields, fruits which shall nourish in us a higher wisdom and a nobler courage. A righteous cause can never be truly served either by the timid or the insincere. And what is true of the history of the Church, is true also of the history of the Bible. No facts connected with its composition can obscure the light of God's word which shines forever in its pages, to illumine the path that leads to a higher and more perfect life, and in the end to everlasting life. Opinion rules men, and opinion is nourished by beliefs, and beliefs are created and sustained by ideas. If we permit ourselves to fall out of the intellectual movement of the age, we shall lose influence over the minds that create opinion and shape the future. "One man of science," says von Hertling, "who works with success in the fields of research, whose name is written on the page of history in far-gleaming characters, and who at the same time leads the life of a true son of the Church, outweighs whole volumes of apologetics." The truths of salvation are doubtless infinitely more important than the truths of science; but this natural knowledge so attracts the attention and awakens the interest of the men of to-day, it so transforms and improves the methods and processes by which civilization is promoted, that it has created a new world-view, not only in the minds of the few profound thinkers and original investigators, but in the general public of intelligent men and women; and if our words are to awaken a response, we must be able to place ourselves at the standpoint of our hearers. The theologian, the apologist, the orator must be able to say to the children of this generation: "We see all that you see, and beyond we see yet diviner truth." Arguments and syllogisms have little power of persuasion. We win men by showing them the facts of life; and to do this we must be able to look at things from many points. This ability is precisely what the best education confers; for it renders the mind open, luminous, fair, supple, and many sided. To live in the mind, to strive ceaselessly to learn more of the infinite truth, is not easy for any one. It requires a discipline, a courage, a spirit of self-denial, which only the fewest ever acquire; and when men of this strength and excellence devote themselves to the elucidation and defense of the doctrines of religion, we must honor and trust them, or they will lose heart or turn to studies in which their labors will be appreciated. If mistrust of our ablest minds be permitted to exist, the inevitable result will be a lowering of the whole intellectual life of Catholics, and as a consequence a lowering of their moral and religious life. If we have no great masters, how shall we hope to have eager and loving disciples? If we have no men who write vital books--books of power, books which are literature and endure--how shall we expect to enter along an inner line into the higher life of the age, to quicken, purify, and exalt the hopes and thoughts of men? Is the Bible itself written with the rigid exactness of a mathematical treatise? Is it not rather a book of life, of literature, full of symbols and metaphors and poetry? What book has been so misunderstood, and misinterpreted, even by honest and enlightened minds, even by theologians themselves? Since the inspired writers may thus easily be misunderstood, may we not conclude that it is our duty to treat with good will and loving kindness authors who, not being supernaturally assisted, employ the talents which God has given them, and which their own tireless industry has cultivated to the highest point, to clothe the old truths with the light of the wider and more real knowledge of the universe and of human history, which the modern mind possesses? The new times demand new men; the ancient faith, if it is to be held vitally, must be commended with fresh vigor and defended with all the arguments which the best philosophy, science, and literature may suggest. Christ came to cast fire on earth, and what does He desire but that it be kindled? _Currit verbum Dei_, says St. Paul; and again: "Wo is me if I do not preach." He is debtor to all men. On Mars Hill he speaks to the most enlightened minds of his day. He is a reasoner as well as a preacher. He places the lines of a Greek poet among his own inspired words. To this intellectual, moral, and religious activity, heightened and intensified by supernatural faith, we owe the spread of Christianity throughout the Gentile world, more than to the zeal and labors of all the apostles. Is it credible that if St. Thomas of Aquino were now alive he would content himself with the philosophy and science of Aristotle, who knows nothing either of creation or of providence, and whose knowledge of nature, compared with our own, is as that of a child? St. Ignatius of Loyola says that to occupy oneself with science, in a pure and religious spirit, is more pleasing to God than practises of penance, because it is more completely the work of the whole man. Is not theology, like the other sciences, bound to accept facts? To deny a fact is to stultify oneself. But how shall we know what is, if we are ignorant of the world-wide efforts of men of learning and intellectual power to get at the facts of the universe? The supreme fact is life; and only that is true, in the best sense of the word, which is favorable to life, to its growth, its joy, its strength, its freedom, its permanence. Whatever dwarfs, whatever arrests, whatever weakens life, is evil. The great purpose of genuine education is not to store the memory or to accustom to observances, but to strengthen man with his own mind, to rouse him to higher self-activity, to vivify him, to give him fresh faith, hope, and courage, to deepen the foundations of his being, to cultivate his faculties, to give him a firmer grasp of truth and a clearer view of things as they are. Whatever narrows, whatever hardens, whatever enslaves is foreign to the purpose of education. We should dread nothing so much as what undermines spiritual energy; for unless man's highest powers are stimulated and kept active, he falls into sensual indulgence, or becomes the victim of a weak and skeptical temper, no longer able to believe anything, or to hope for anything, or to love anything with all his heart. This is the temper of decadent races, of perishing civilizations, and of dying religions. Losing the power to believe with vital faith in God and in the soul, men cling to the fantom life of cheap and vulgar pleasures. They seek gold and position; they trust to mechanical devices, to political schemes; they worship the rising sun; their truth is what is popular, their good is what makes for present success. Having no firm hold of the eternal and infinite, they believe in human cunning, not in the might of divine truth. They forget that all truth is orthodox, and that behind all truth stand the veracity and the power of God, who makes Himself known in the laws of science, as in the majesty of the everlasting mountains and the starlit heavens. As a kind word spoken for the love of God and man becomes religious, so a right spirit consecrates human action in whatever sphere. "Whoever utters truth," says St. Augustine, "utters it by the aid of him who is truth itself." A devout and illumined spirit sees all things bound together in harmony and beauty about the feet of the eternal Father. Knowledge confirms faith, and faith impels to knowledge. Religion nourishes morality, and morality strengthens and purifies religion. Art, in reflecting some feeble rays of the infinite splendor, opens vistas of the diviner life. Science in showing that order reigns everywhere, even in the midst of seeming discord, that all things are subject to law, gives us a clearer perception of God's infinite wisdom and power. Material progress itself in making earthly things subject to human knowledge and skill, fulfils the will of the Creator who made all things for man. Thus science and art and progress all conspire with religion to upbuild man's being and to mold him into ever-increasing likeness to God. It is in religion, however, that the conquering might of the spirit is best revealed, and this of itself is sufficient to give it supremacy. It is not merely a world-view, a creed, and a worship; but an original and historic manifestation in human life of the primal power, which transforms and liberates. It is the breaking through of the inner source of being, of God, who reveals Himself to the lowly minded and the pure of heart, as the beginning and end of all that exists; as the one eternal Absolute, in whom and by whom and for whom all things are. The soul that is conscious that religion rests upon this everlasting foundation is not troubled by misgivings as to its truth or usefulness. It is God present in the innermost part of our being; it is Christ working with the almighty Father to redeem man from subjection to the transitory and apparent, from the lust of the flesh, from greed for what ministers to the senses alone. Thus it is an independent world, a kingdom in itself, able to endure and to remain the same in the midst of an order of things that is forever changing and passing away. Whatever alteration may occur in the views of the intellectual, whatever decay or transformation of political and social institutions may take place, religion, the Catholic religion of Christ, shall abide, still endowed, after the lapse of however many ages, with its original freshness and vigor. There was never yet genuine thinker, or poet, or artist whose work may not be brought, if we are strong and clear-sighted enough, to contribute to the cause of pure religion. The theologian, the preacher, and the apologist who are ignorant of the best that has been thought and said by the makers of the world's literature, can not have the culture, the intellectual vigor, the openness and pliability of mind, without which, short of miracle, it is not possible rightly to commend divine truth to an enlightened age. They whose vocation it is to be public teachers, to mold opinion, and to direct thought, must have more knowledge, a wider outlook, a firmer grasp of spiritual realities than those whom they seek to enlighten and guide. The deepest truth seems shallow when uttered by the frivolous; the holiest things seem to lose half their sacredness when they are entrusted to the coarse and ignorant. It is not enough that the minister of religion have a pure and loving heart, and strong and disciplined mind: he must also have the breeding and culture of a gentleman. Manners are not idle; they spring from inner worth; they are the flower of high thinking and plain living. Christ, it has been said, was the world's first gentleman, and they who live and act in His spirit must be gentlemen. If we build majestic temples, if we construct our altars of costly marbles, if our sacred vessels and priestly vestments are made of gold and silk and studded with precious stones, why shall not they who offer sacrifice and who preach the gospel be required to be clean and decorous, fair and gracious? If it is vanity to speak with ease and elegance, to pronounce with correctness and distinctness, to read with right intonation and emphasis, then must we not say that it is vanity also to erect gorgeous edifices wherein to worship God, who, as St. Paul says, may not be shut in houses made by human hands? If the priest is to be educated at all, he must receive the most thorough and complete education. He must trust wholly to grace, or he must spare no pains whereby endowment may be developed into faculty. The young, who are the hope of the future, can be won and held only by the highest ideals, in the light of which they may thrill with hope and feel that it is a blest thing to be alive and active, to fight the good fight and, if need be, to perish in a worthy cause. To speak to them with contempt of what the nineteenth century has done, of its science and literature, of its truer knowledge of the past, its keener critical sense, its amazing progress in carrying out the divine command that all things be made subject to man, of the success with which it has battled against ignorance, poverty, and disease, would be to fill them with contempt for ourselves, as being men without understanding and without heart. We must indeed warn against pride and conceit and halfness and dilettanteism, against irreverence and knowingness; but it were a fatal mistake to imagine that we can do aught but harm by seeking to inspire them with a distrust of science and culture, or with a dread of the influence of such things on religious faith. We of all men should be able to walk with confidence in the paths of knowledge. Since we are glad to receive money and to have the favor of men in high places to assist us in our spiritual work, how shall we be willing to lack the help of thoroughly disciplined and enlightened minds, to lack the power of thought which is the most irresistible force God has given to man? If we look upon theology as merely a system of crystallized formulas, as a science which need take no cognizance of the general culture of the age, content with presenting the old truths in the old way, as merely a larger catechism, with a more detailed exposition of definitions and refutations, we deprive it of power to influence men who are all alive with thoughts urgent as the growth of wings; who in the midst of problems which the new sciences raise and accentuate, have grown confused and begin to doubt whether human life shall not be emptied of its spiritual content. All knowledges are related, as all bodies attract and help to hold one another in place; and if we hope to commend and enforce revealed truth with efficacious power, we must be prepared to do so in the full blaze of the light which research and discovery have poured upon nature and the history of man. If, in consequence, we find it necessary to abandon positions which are no longer defensible, to assume new attitudes in the face of new conditions, we must remember that tho the Church is a divine institution, it is none the less subject to the law which makes human things mutable, that tho truth must remain the same, it is capable of receiving fresh illustration, and that if it is to be life-giving, it must be wrought anew into the constitution of each individual and of each age. Is it possible to look on the great, eager, yearning, doubting, and suffering life of man, and not to feel infinite desire to be of help? Can we believe in our inmost being that we have the words of eternal life, and not be roused as by a voice from heaven from our indifference and somnolence, from our easy contentment with formal education and half knowledge? We do not need new devotions and new shrines, but a new spirit, newness of life, a revivification of faith, hope and love, fresh courage and will to lay hold on the sources of power, that we may compel all knowledge and science to do homage to Christ, and to serve in the noblest way all God's children. We must be resolved to labor to see not only things as they are, but ourselves, too, as we are. Where self-criticism is lacking, whether in individuals or in social aggregates, decay and degeneracy inevitably set in. If there are true and wholesome developments of life and doctrine, there is also a false and morbid evolution, against which we must be ever watchful. Ceaseless vigilance is not the price of liberty alone, it is the price we must pay for all spiritual good; and how shall we be ever vigilant if we are forbidden to criticize ourselves and the environment by which our life is nourished and protected. As walking is a continuous falling and rising, so all progress is an upward movement through error and failure toward truth and victory. As the decay of races, the ruin of civilizations, the downfall of states are seen in the end to be helpful to the progress of mankind, since they do not perish, wholly, but contribute something of their vital substance to those that follow; so the history of human thought shows that while systems rise and pass away, even the errors of sincere and original minds, associated as they are with truth, aid in some way the general advancement of knowledge and culture. All things work together for those who love God. Action may not be dissociated from thought, nor thought from action. Doubt is overcome, not by abstracting and arguing, but by doing the thing which is given us to do. The intellect is not the center and soul of life; and knowing is not the whole of being. Faith is not a conclusion from a line of reasoning. We can not bind our destiny to the conquests of the mind. We have power to think, but our chief business is to act; and therefore we must forever and forever fall back on faith, hope, and love, and on the conduct they inspire, or we shall be driven forth into the regions of mere speculation, into a dreary world of empty forms. MACARTHUR CHRIST--THE QUESTION OF THE CENTURIES BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Robert Stuart MacArthur was born at Dalesville, Quebec, in 1841, and graduated from the Rochester Theological Seminary in 1870. He has been pastor of Calvary Baptist Church, New York, continuously since 1870. From the very first he began to attract attention as pastor and preacher, and the success which has attended his ministry has been phenomenal. During his ministry his church has given for benevolent and missionary enterprises more than two million dollars. MACARTHUR Born in 1841 CHRIST--THE QUESTION OF THE CENTURIES What think ye of Christ.--Matt. xxii., 42. The ideal man has not yet been discovered. Humboldt, who traveled far, saw much and felt more, recorded in his diary this sentence, "The finest fruit earth holds up to its maker is a man." It is here implied that this finest fruit is the ideal man. But Humboldt did not affirm that he had ever found this man. The ideal man has not yet been discovered among those who were mere men. No one of our noblest men was a spotless sun; no one reached sinless perfection. From all our loftiest specimens of manhood I turn dissatisfied to Jesus Christ, and in Him I find the ideal becomes actual, the dream real, and the hope fruition. What Mount Tabor is, rising abruptly in its unique symmetry and beauty from the northeastern arm of the plain of Esdraelon, that Jesus Christ is, rising in insulated grandeur and spotless perfection above the plain reached by the noblest men of all the centuries. What Mount Blanc as the king of the Alps is, lifting its crystal domes and towers 15,781 feet above the level of the Mediterranean Sea, compared with the other snow-clad and cloud-kissed mountains of the Alps, that Jesus Christ is compared with the loftiest men who have risen as mountain heights above their fellows through all the ages. What the Himalaya range, the most elevated and stupendous mountain system on the globe, sweeping across historic lands as far as from New York to Chicago and back to New York, and rising so high that the superb Matterhorn, if lifted bodily and placed upon the Jungfrau, would not reach the glittering Himalaya heights, that and more Jesus Christ is to the long line of men who have risen highest in mortal grandeur in the history of the human race. Jesus Christ is the pearl and crown of humanity; He is the loftiest specimen of manhood the race has produced; he is the fullest manifestation of divinity God has given the world; He is the effulgence of God's glory, and the very image of His substance. He rises in unapproachable glory, not only above men, but also above saints and seraphs, and above angels and archangels. Gazing upon Him, we can exclaim with inexpressible enthusiasm and unutterable ecstasy, "_Ecce Homo!_" and with the same breadth and with equal truth we can also reverently exclaim, "_Ecce Deus!_" The setting of this text is instructively suggestive. For some time in His discussion with the Pharisees, our Lord had been acting on the defensive. Both Sadducees and Pharisees had been asking Him questions. His answers put the Sadducees to silence, and their confusion greatly gratified the Pharisees. It is now their turn to experience similar confusion from the celerity and dexterity of His replies. Never was there so skilful a debater as Jesus Christ. He was masterful in His clarity of thought, simplicity of speech, and purity of motive. In the case before us, He passes from the defensive to the offensive, and he convicts Scribes and Pharisees of entertaining false views of the Messiah. They had disputed His claims as a spiritual Messiah, and He now shows the irreconcilable contradiction between their views of Him as a mere worldly Messiah, and the teaching of their own prophetic Scriptures. They were silenced and even stunned by His rapid, aggressive, and unanswerable attack. We are significantly told that "no man was able to answer him a word, neither durst any man from that day forth ask him any more questions." It must, doubtless, be admitted that there are men in every community, who have no definite convictions regarding Jesus Christ. It seems almost incredible that in a community of culture and Christianity men and women should be found who have not reached definite conclusions regarding the person and character of Christ. I put then the question with the _utmost_ directness, "What think ye of Christ?" This is the broadest, deepest, and loftiest question ever put to the human race. This is the question of all the ages. This question virtually engaged the thought of Abraham; it evoked a response from Moses; and it stirred the deepest emotions and loftiest praise of David, as he swept his lyre and sang his immortal songs.... In this congregation there are no hearers unwilling to admit that Jesus Christ is at least a great historic character. They frankly admit that He was born at Bethlehem, brought up at Nazareth, and crucified at Jerusalem. They are entirely correct in the outward features of His earthly career, but they have comparatively little conception of the spiritual significance of His wonderful life and His vicarious death. They think of the historical elements of His Wonderful life as they would think of those of Buddha, Zoroaster, or Mohammed. Their conception of His earthly life has no power over the development of their own lives, except as a mere character of history. They fail to see that His was a unique life, and that it was lived on earth by Him, that it might be lived in some measure over again on earth by us. They fail to see that He became the Son of man, that we might become the sons of God. They do not learn that He revealed the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man that we should sweetly experience the one and constantly illustrate the other. The historic Christ has no more power over the practical lives of some, than the traditional heroes of classic legend. Virtually for them there is no Christ or God. Practically for them there is no historic Christ. Until the historic Christ is translated into a personal Savior and Master, controlling our acts, our words, and our thoughts by His matchless example, His unique personality, and His spiritual purity, there is for us no historic Christ worthy the name. There are those who think of the Christ as a dreamy, sentimental, and poetic character. They are charmed by the commendable characteristics of His remarkable life. They refer to Him in terms of soothing speech and of dreamy affection. There is an element of poesy in all their conceptions of the divine-human Christ. They think of Him in language which the robust Chalmers called, in his lofty scorn, "nursery endearments." They are ready to adopt the language of the renowned French theologian, eminent Orientalist, and brilliant rhetorician, Renan, when he speaks of the Christ of God as the "sweet Galilean." Such epithets must be utterly unwelcome to Christ. If He be not more than man, then He is less than man. If He be not worthy of our loftiest devotion, He is certainly worthy of our severest reprehension. In a word, if He be not God, He is not a good man. Carlyle described materialism as a "gospel of dirt"; we might fittingly describe this sweet and silly sentimentalism as a "gospel of gush." Only as we bow down at Christ's feet, and worship Him as the divine-human Man, can we give Him the honor which He merits and demands. Then we can employ and sanctify the loftiest poetry in chanting His praise, the noblest art in limning His person, and the profoundest logic in urging His claims upon men as the divine-human Savior. There are many who are willing to admit and who earnestly affirm that Jesus Christ is the ideal man of the human race. They are ready to declare that it was a glorious thing that man was originally made like God, and that it was a still more condescending thing that God was made like man. The Christ was indeed the ideal man of the human race. He was the great exemplar, the perfect model, the sublime original to be imitated by all true men and women. In Him, and in Him only, the plant of humanity blossomed and bloomed into a perfect flower. But how can we account for the perfection of His humanity, if we deny the reality of His divinity? We ought, as students of literature and life, to account for Jesus the Christ. We strive to account for Socrates and Plato, for David and Isaiah, for Paul and Luther, for Washington and Gladstone, for Lincoln and McKinley. Are we not under the strongest possible obligations to account for Jesus Christ? Men say that Jesus Christ was good, but that He was not God. Out of their own mouths these men convict themselves of inconsistency in their locutions and illogicality in their reasonings. If Jesus Christ be not God, He is not good. He is either an unpardonable egotist, or a hopeless lunatic, or he is the Christ of God, and God over all, blest forever more. He claimed to be God, and if His claim be not true, how can he be good? The stream of His life flowed through the human race on a higher level, and rose to a vastly higher point, than any other stream known to human history or divine revelation. How shall we account for the height to which that stream rose? Water can never rise higher than its source. If that source were simply human, how can we account for the superhuman height which it reached? If we admit the account given in the gospels of His virgin birth and divine origin, all His life is easily explicable. But if we deny His unique origin, we can not logically account for His unique life. A life began as was never another life, we might expect to see continue as no other life continued. A naturally skeptical man finds it easier to admit the account of Christ's remarkable birth than to attempt to explain His remarkable life if He deny the remarkable birth. The unicity of His birth we would naturally expect to eventuate in the unicity of His life. His life can not be explained on any principle of heredity. We readily admit the royal element in His blood, altho the fortunes of His family had fallen before His birth; but no law of heredity will account for the physical attractiveness, the mental superiority, and the moral purity of Jesus, the Christ. Neither will environment account for His marvelous career and character. What was there in the peasant conditions of His family life to produce the uniqueness of His manhood? Neither will education account for the Christ. He was never in school, in the technical sense of that term, altho He doubtless studied in the village synagog; and yet He rose above all the limitations, traditions, and bigotries by which He was surrounded. It is doubtful if He ever sat at the feet of the greatest rabbis of the time. It is certain that He never studied at the feet of the philosophers of Greece and Rome, nor of the dreamy Orient. He never traveled, except possibly barely across the confines of Palestine, a country about the size of the State of New Hampshire. How came He to emancipate Himself from the sectarianism and sectionalism of His country and century? How came He to be the contemporary of all the ages? How came He to utter in the Sermon on the Mount truths which socially and religiously the foremost thinkers of to-day can barely understand, and dare not fully apply to the solution of the problems of the hour? No mere human thinker has ever approached the Sermon on the Mount. But in pure spirituality of thought, our Lord surpassed it in His last address to His disciples. This address bears the ineffaceable marks of His supreme divinity and absolute deity. O, ye critics, I ask you as a problem of literature and life to account for Jesus the Christ. I ask no favors for Him. It is you that need the favors, if you oppose the Christ. I demand for Him simple justice. "What think ye of the Christ?" Dr. Geikie, in his "Life of Christ," calls attention to the fact that the Jews confess great admiration for the character and words of Jesus; that the Mohammedan world gives Him the high title of Messiah; that the myriad-minded Shakespeare paid Him lowly reverence, and that men like Galileo, Kepler, Bacon, Newton, and Milton set the name of Christ above every other name. He also reminds us that Jean Paul Richter, whom his countrymen call "Der Einzige," the unique, tells us that "the life of Christ concerns him who, being the holiest among the mighty, the mightiest among the holy, lifted with his pierced hands empires off their hinges, and turned the stream of centuries out of its channel, and still governs the ages." Spinoza, the great philosopher, son of Portuguese Jews, disciple of Aben-Ezra and Descartes, calls Christ the symbol of divine wisdom. Schelling and Hegel speak of Him as the union of the divine and human. The immortal Goethe, the acknowledged prince of German poets, and one of the most superbly accomplished men of the eighteenth century, says, "I esteem the gospels to be thoroughly genuine, for there shines forth from them the reflected splendor of a sublimity, proceeding from the person of Jesus Christ, of so divine a kind as only the divine could ever have manifested upon earth." What thinkest thou of the Christ, O Jean Jacques Rousseau, with all the brilliancy of thy intellect, the singularity of thy character, and the enthusiasm of thy writings? Give place to the witness Rousseau; hear his testimony. Rousseau speaks: "How petty are the books of the philosophers, compared with the gospels! Can it be that writings at once so sublime and so simple are the work of men? Can He whose life they tell be Himself no more than a mere man?... Yes, if the death of Socrates be that of a sage, the life and death of Jesus are those of a God." What thinkest thou of the Christ, burly, brusk, brave, and heroic Thomas Carlyle, with all thy marvelous reading, thy profound thinking, and thy contempt of cant and love of truth? Carlyle steps forward and speaks: "Jesus of Nazareth, our divinest symbol! Higher has the human thought not yet reached." Let us summon Dr. Channing, the cultured and eloquent preacher and writer, the foremost man among American Unitarians in his day. What thinkest thou, O Channing, of Jesus Christ? He makes reply: "The character of Jesus Christ is wholly inexplicable on human principles." What thinkest thou, O Herder, illustrious German thinker, broad scholar, and exquisite genius, of Jesus, the Christ? Superb is his reply: "Jesus Christ is in the noblest and most perfect sense the realized ideal of humanity." What thinkest thou of the Christ, O Napoleon, mighty son of Mars, striding through the world like a Colossus, darkening the brightness of noonday with the smoke, and lighting the darkness at midnight with the fires of battle? Hear this man of gigantic intellect, whatever may be said of his moral motives: "I think I understand somewhat of human nature, and I tell you all these (the heroes of antiquity) were men, and I am a man, but not one is like Him; Jesus Christ was more than man. Alexander, Cæsar, Charlemagne, and myself founded great empires; but upon what did the creations of our genius depend? Upon force. Jesus alone founded His empire upon love, and to this very day millions would die for him." Compared with such witnesses as these, the opponents of Jesus Christ of to-day are pigmies so contemptible in mentality and so questionable in morality as to be ruled out of every court of testimony, where intellectual ability and moral worth have weight. I summon thee, O execrable Judas. Behold him flinging down the thirty pieces of silver before the chief priests and elders. Hear him speak in his agony of soul: "I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood." I summon thee, O Pontius Pilate, with thy immortality of shame in the creeds of the ages. The Roman Procurator washes his hands. Strange sight! He speaks: "I am innocent of the blood of this just person." He speaks again: "I find no fault in this man." I summon John, the heroic Baptist. Hear His testimony: "Behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world." O loving and divine John, the Evangelist, what thinkest thou of the Christ? "He is the Vine, the Way, the Truth, the Light, and the Word, and the Word was God." I summon thee, O matchless Paul. What is thy testimony? "He is the image of the invisible God.... The blest and only Potentate, the King of kings, the Lord of lords." I summon thee, Apostle Peter, once confessor, then denier, but afterward penitent witness and heroic martyr. What is thy testimony? "He is the Christ, the Son of the living God." I summon thee, O once doubting but always brave Thomas. Hear the testimony of this witness as he falls at the Master's feet and exclaims, "My Lord and my God!" I summon thee, O John Bunyan, immortal tinker; thy glorious Pilgrim, marching through the ages, telling the story of redeeming love, is thy testimony to the character of thy Lord. I summon thee, O Charles Spurgeon, and the testimony of all thy volumes, of thy glorious life and of thy peerless ministry is that "Jesus Christ is the chiefest among ten thousand and the One altogether lovely." I summon thee, O De Wette, great Biblical critic of Germany: "This only I know, that there is salvation in no other name than in the name of Jesus Christ, the crucified." I summon thee, O scholarly, cultured MacIntosh; the attendants are watching thy last moments, they bend over thee to catch thy last whispers: "Jesus, love!--Jesus, love!--The same thing." I might summon ten thousand more, who from the Grassmarket in Edinburgh, and from a thousand racks and stakes went up to glory and to God, and their testimony would be, "None but Jesus, none but Jesus." I summon thee, Toplady, and hear thee sing this great hymn, "Rock of Ages, cleft for me." I summon thee, O Tennyson, immortal laureate, thou who hast fought thy doubts and found divine help. Let us hear the result of thy conflicts: Strong Son of God, immortal love, Whom we, that have not seen Thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we can not prove. Thine are these orbs of light and shade; Thou madest life in man and brute; Thou madest death; and lo! Thy foot Is on the skull which Thou hast made. Thou seemest human and divine, The highest, holiest manhood Thou; Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours to make them Thine. I summon thee, O Browning, poet of divine optimism and interpreter of the deeper instincts of the human heart, let us hear the conclusion of thy philosophic mind: I say the acknowledgment of God in Christ Accepted by thy reason, solves for thee All questions in the world and out of it, And hath so far advanced thee to be wise. I summon thee, O Gladstone, noblest of statesmen, uncrowned king of the world, thou who didst come in contact with the throbbing life of the world, of politics, letters, and religions, what sayst thou concerning humanity's greatest need? "I am asked what a man should chiefly look to in his progress through life as to the power that is to sustain him under trials and enable him manfully to confront his afflictions. I must point to something which, in a well-known hymn is called, 'The old, old story,' and taught with an old, old teaching, which is the best gift ever given to mankind. The older I grow, the more confirmed I am in the belief that Jesus Christ is the only hope of humanity." I summon Thyself, O Thou Christ of God, Thou holiest of the holy, Thou who art God of very God. What sayst Thou of Thyself? "Before Abraham was I am." "I and my Father are one." "He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father." CARPENTER THE AGE OF PROGRESS BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE William Boyd Carpenter, English divine, was born in 1841 in Liverpool, educated at the Royal Institution and Cambridge University, where he was appointed Hulsean lecturer in 1878. After holding several curacies he was appointed vicar of Christ Church, Lancaster Gate, in 1879. He held also a canoncy of Windsor Until 1884, when he was consecrated bishop of Ripon. In 1887 he delivered the Bampton lectures. He has published a large number of works, among which may be reckoned "Commentary on Revelation" (1879); "Lectures on Preaching" (1895); and a "Popular History of the Church of England" (1900). CARPENTER Born in 1841 THE AGE OF PROGRESS _And the sons of the prophets said unto Elisha, Behold now, the place where we dwell with thee is too strait for us. Let us go, we pray thee, unto Jordan, and take thence every man a beam, and let us make a place there where we may dwell. And he answered, Go ye._--2 Kings vi., 1, 2. There are two conditions of real personal power in the world. One is that we should be able to look above this earth and see some heavenly light surrounding everything we meet. We call this, in ordinary language, asserting the power of insight, and it is that which redeems life from being regarded as commonplace. Everything is tinged with heavenliness for those who see heaven's light above all; and the possession of this power gives that dignity of conception to life which is one of the secrets of power. But there is another condition also, and that is that there shall be the strength of personal assertiveness. A man may be possest of never so much insight, and yet he may lack that robustness of personal character which can make itself felt among his fellows; he may, in fact, be deficient in the powers of personal action. Now these two gifts Elisha possest. He possest the loftiness of insight. He had seen when his master was taken up the glimpse of the fiery chariot which took him into the heavens, and from that time forward his life was tinged with the consciousness of heaven. Nothing could be mean or low to a man who had beheld that first vision of God. This was, as it were, an enduring and abiding background of all his after-conceptions. So in the hour when it seemed as tho beleagured by armies and enemies, that there was no power of release, his eyes, as it were, were still open to behold the heavenly brightness about him. He possest also that power of personal assertiveness. Standing in front of the Jordan, he smote aside every difficulty which hindered him commencing his career. But there is a third qualification still which is needed, in order that these two powers may be brought, as it were, into practical contact with life. Great men, it has been said by one of our own great teachers, are men who live very largely in their own age; that is to say, they are persons the drift and set of whose mind does not belong to the generation before themselves exactly, altho they may be possest of powers of insight, nor to the generation after their own age, but have much power of sympathy and comprehensiveness toward the interests and exigencies of their own time. They are men to use the phrase, who are in touch with their own age. And therefore it is, tho a man may be possest of so much insight that heavenly light breathes upon all things, tho he may have a certain robust assertiveness and energy of character, yet if he have no power of adjusting his capacities, so to speak, in language understood of the men among whom he moves, all that power will, for the practical purpose of life, be thrown away. Elisha possest the two. Does he possess the third? Is he a man, in fact, who can make his influence felt among the men of his day? Is he in touch with his time? Can he be a man capable, not only of acting for himself, but capable, by that subtle and magical influence, of arousing the activity of others? For a man may, indeed, hold a position of isolated splendor, which may produce the admiration of the men of his day; but to be a real prophet, I take it, is to be able to merge largely our own individuality into the individualities of others, and to be not so much the cause of admiration as the cause of activity. Now I think that the scene will explain to us that Elisha was largely possest of that gift. If you watch it you will see that here is a scene which has since then often been exhibited in the story of all great movements. One of the great conditions of life is the capacity to expand. Dead things may indeed crystallize into a sort of cold uniformity, but that which has life in it is always possest of expansive energy. Here are these sons of the prophets becoming conscious that the place where they dwell is too strait for them. It is a movement which, as it were, arises outside the prophet's suggestion; he is not the one who tells them that the place is too strait. They gather themselves together and say, "The place is too strait for us; let us go and build a larger and ampler habitation for ourselves." And immediately you watch him in the midst of these men whose minds are alive to the spirit of progress. He identifies himself with their aspirations; he is one with them in the movement; he does not coldly frown upon their glorious aspirations, which are from the extension of their own institutions, but rather makes himself one with them. Not only so. See how he allies himself to their individual life. He does not even dictate to them the whole method of the movement; each man shall be free, he says, to choose his beam. When they say, Let us go and select our own beam for our own habitation, be it so. He is not to frown down their individual efforts, but, at the same time, by going with them he preserves the coherence, as it were, of their work. He allows the freest scope of individual activity, but yet preserves them in the great unification of their work. And when the episode happens which often does happen in the story of great movements--when the hour comes when one man's heart is smitten through with despondency, when the work is still before him, but the power of carrying on the work has dropt from his hand, slipping into the stream which is ever ready to drown our best ambitions and endeavors--Elisha stands beside a man in despondency, cheers his spirit, which is overwhelmed by hopelessness, and restores to him hope, capacity, and power. I say this is a man who is, in a great sense, a true prophet of his day, not simply posing for personal admiration, not merely asserting himself and destroying the capabilities of those about him, but with that sweet flexibility and that wondrous firmness combined, which is capable of giving movement to the young life about him and at the same time drawing them into the one great purpose of existence. And thus it seems to me that the scene spreads beyond its own age. It is a type of all great movements, and it gives us a fitting attitude of those who would direct and control such movements. Here is the prophet in relation to the idea of the age of progress. The place is too strait for us. It is not the cry of the Jewish Church only; it is the cry of all ages. "The place is too strait." You and I might say that is a vision of the growth of Christendom; the place is too strait. The little upper chamber at Jerusalem did not suffice for the three thousand converts. "The place is too strait," they are forced to exclaim. The limits of Judea are too small for the ever-extending energy of Christianity. Every land and every nationality must be brought within its sway, and the workers shall be as the workers in this scene, manifold. Here shall be men like St. Paul, who shall go, with a strong forensic sense of what the gospel is, to speak it to the hearts of men who need it, and lift them high above commonplace things. Here shall be one like St. John, reposing upon the bosom of his Lord, and able to unfold to them heavenly visions and the anticipations of the outgrowth and development of the world. Here is one who, like Origen shall collate, like Jerome shall translate, like Augustine shall expound, like the men of later ages shall preach the spirit of reformation. The place is too strait, but given to each man his individual freedom, the power and the expansion of the Church goes on. But is it not true that while, on the one side, we might say that this is a glorious picture, untouched and untinged by any dark lines, the moment that we begin to look at it in its practical form we begin to see the difficulties of its development? Let us go unto Jordan, and let us take each man our own beam. As long as the expansion of the Church is in the direction of the increase of its numbers or accession of new territories, so long indeed the men who have had the spirit of zeal have been willing to sanction such extension. But there comes a time when the consciousness of its expansion does not move according to the line of numbers merely, but it moves according to the line of new institutions and of new thoughts. How, then, will it be received by those into whose hand is placed the responsibility of its guidance? "The place is too strait for us;" so they cried in the early Church when they found that Judaic institutions were too narrow for the spirit of Christianity. The new wine could not be left in old bottles. "The place is too strait for us;" so they cried when they found within the bosom of the medieval Church that there was not the opportunity for the expansion of their spiritual life and the development of their missionary energy. But has it always been true that the spirit of this religious zeal which longs for new developments and new departures has been received with the spirit of wisdom? You and I know full well that the history of the Church of Christ is the history of a thousand regrets. Did the medieval Church never regret the act by which it drove forth the Waldenses into schism? Has our Church never regretted the day when it looked askance at the work of John Wesley? You know full well, whatever might have been the feeling of earlier times, there is growing up among us a larger and wider spirit, catching--shall I say?--the true directing spirit which shone thus in the life of Elisha; and believing that it is possible after all that each man may have his function in life, and each man, choosing his beam, may in bearing that beam be building up the temple of God. But, alas! it is hard for men to believe it. Still, even now, the spirit of prejudice surrounds every aspect with which we regard life and Church movement. It is difficult for a man bred in one communion, for example, to believe in the types of saintship which have become the favorites of another; harder, perhaps, for men bred in the very heart of Rome to believe in the spirit of saintship which dwelt in the breast of Molinos; hard for those dwelling in the heart of Protestantism to understand Bonaventura or Xavier; hard for one who has been taught in Presbyterian lines to believe in that sanctity which descends to us as an heritage from Cosin and Ken; and difficult, perhaps, for Episcopalians to recognize the sanctity which dwelt in Richard Baxter and John Bunyan.... You may believe that there is the danger of the Church--shall I say?--growing stereotyped in its forms, by checking the freedom of individual life. There is the danger, on the other side, of the Church, as it were, spreading itself in the aggregation of splendid individualities; and because men believe intensely in their own mission, because they can not but see that the beam which they are hewing down is one of paramount importance to take some place in supporting the temple of God, they are inclined to prefer the attitude of isolation. Is this wise, and is it well? Pardon me if I ask you to say that this spirit, if allowed to grow, is a spirit which, from its various aspects, is one which, by all means in our power, we ought to set our faces against. Our own beam is not the temple of God. Each move and form of religious thought is not comprehensive of the whole; but it is here where men, choosing their own beam, begin to believe in their own, and their own alone, and seek to impose that little thing of their own as tho it were an absolute necessity of every portion of God's Church, that you get the spirit of actual division. "The whole is greater than its part." If we could only bring the aphorisms of ordinary life into the bearings of the Church of God we should be happier. But, let me assure you, when a man has his beam, and tells me that that beam will be built into the temple of God, will support its roof, and perhaps be the very thing which will add new dignity to the splendid arch which will spring from it, I am content to accept it. Let him believe anything that will beautify and extend. But when he tells me that it is catholicity to believe in his beam being all, he simply, as it were, sins against the very thing he is seeking to maintain. It is a sign of intellectual mediocrity; it is the spirit of sectarianism; it is the spirit ultimately of skepticism. When a man believes that pious views, which have been found profitable to his own soul, are to be made the rule for the whole catholic Church; when he tells me that special hours for special services are essential for the well-being of all Christian souls; when he tells me that special attitudes in the house of God are essential to catholicity, it is intellectual mediocrity, as the brilliant French poet has written which can not comprehend anything beyond itself. It is a spirit of sectarianism; for what, I pray, do you mean by sectarianism, if it is not this spirit, that you exaggerate your own particular doctrine into such proportions as to make men feel that there is none other than that? You are of your own little Church, and you are doubtful of the rest of the world. That is the spirit of sectarianism, and that, if you understand it rightly, is the only fault of skepticism; for to believe that God is to be narrowed down to the conception of such a thing as that, to believe that God's temple is to be brought down to the measure of your own little beam, is to believe with such a stunted growth, such a stunted conception of God, that it is practically denying Him altogether. Sometimes I venture to think that we have lost faith in Christ altogether. We believe in a Church which can be manipulated by human wisdom, we believe in a Church which can be galvanized by organization, but we can not believe in a Church whose development is being overruled by the guiding spirit and eternal presence of Christ Himself. If you take a large view of Christianity the danger becomes yours. Some, indeed, hew down beams for the temple of God not themselves knowing of that temple into which they are placed; for I do believe that in the development of God's great world the efforts of earnest and honest men who know not indeed in what direction their efforts are tending will be found to have been real efforts for the promotion of something, for the bringing out of some truth, for the establishment of some truth by which the Church may live, on which the Church may build, of whom the whole building, fitly framed together and compacted by that which every joint supplies, shall thus grow into the holy temple of the Lord. But the scene is not the scene merely of these activities uncrossed by a single reverse. Here is the accident, here is the time in which men begin to feel that their power has left them. One, in hewing down his beam, animated by a spirit of a little overeagerness, perhaps gifted with that egotism of his work which made him develop it more rapidly than that of his fellows, strikes too hard a blow, and the loose ax-head slips off the haft and falls into the stream. Immediately he is face to face with, and conscious of, that most painful consciousness which can ever visit the heart of man--the contradiction between the grandness of the work and the ideal of the work which he has to achieve and his own impotence. There is the beam, and all about me are the workers, and the house is to be built for the sons of the prophets. But here, in my hand I hold this simple haft, bereft of the power of doing my share in that great work. It is a picture which has been repeated often and often. Does there not come a time when we feel that the power, as it were, of things has forsaken us? There was a time when our creeds afforded us great delight. We believed in God; we believed in redemption; we believed in the Spirit which could guide human affairs; we moved to our work full of the exuberance of confidence in that faith. But behold, there has come a time when we, perhaps almost unconsciously, lose the very thing which has given us hope. Now whenever a new doctrine or new truth has come up in the history of the Church, it has been held, in the first instance, by men who lived by it and tied their own lives to it. No power of that ax-head slipt off into life's stream. They knew what they were doing. When men brought out the doctrine of the inspiration of the Bible, they knew what they were doing; they hewed down the trees about them, and they really believed it. Their lives were created by this truth. So when they believed in the real presence of Christ, they believed that Christ was really present. It was no fiction. When they believed in the doctrine of justification by faith, they believed that God had taken them into His own hands, that God had grasped their lives, and God Himself was behind their lives. Truth was to them truth, and it was a consecrated thing; but remember that truth, which is a flower, has its roots there, and it is only as you grasp it by its roots it becomes true to you. Truth is not a thing of the intellect only; it descends into our moral nature, it grafts upon our affections and conscience; the moment I cut it away from it it ceases to be truth; it becomes dogma--for the sake of distinction. That is to say, the men of our age who do not live by that truth wish, as it were, to attach that truth to them; they wish to make it actually the cry of party. They stole the wand of the enchanter, but they had not the power of the enchanter. They knew that they had the flower, but the flower cut away from its moral root had no force and no vitality, and therefore it crystallizes it. Hence, the natural history of a doctrine is this: when men are taking it rightly, using it as for God, rightly handling it, it is a power in their hands. Taken up for their own purposes, for the purpose of satisfying an indolent understanding, for the purpose of evading the claims of God which other truths may be making upon their minds, it then becomes evacuated of its power; it is impotent, it is buried underneath the stream of constantly changing time. And, then, how shall it be restored? By again, I say, being taken up out of the stream by the true handle. If you wish to restore the power of truth, you must see that it is the truth which has a claim upon your moral being. For just as we are told that the sun may pour down its beams eternally upon the face of the moon, burning and blistering with its rays its surface, and that there everything remains cold and frozen underneath those beams, because no sweet atmosphere can hold the sunbeams in its fold, so it is true that when you take truth and use it from its false side, it shall pour its brightest rays into your intellect, not the dry light which Bacon meant, but the false light which some substitute for it. You receive a true light upon your understanding, and there is no moral atmosphere upon your nature to embrace those sunbeams, to keep them and make them your own, and make them your life blood by their presence. If thus we take truth it becomes false to us, a buried and useless thing. But if you take truth from its moral side, and approach it from its moral and spiritual side, it shall again become a power in your nature. When men believed in the inspiration of God and the Bible it was a power to them; but when this dropt down into a belief that every jot and tittle was part and parcel of God's inspiration, then they merely crystallized into a dogma what was a great and living truth. When men ask us, Are the doctrines of Christianity dead; are they played out? my answer is, They are dead to those who use them wrongly, as all truth is dead to those who have no moral love of truth--dead to those who will use them as charms and incantations, sewing them, as the Pharisees sewed some texts, into the border of their robes; dead, indeed, they are to those who are not making them part of their own life, but not dead to those who, tho they may not be able to formulate their view into any way that will satisfy a partizan section of Christianity, yet feel that to them the old inspiration is life. God's living voice will speak to them godlike in every line, to them because they believe in a Christ behind all these truths, and that these are but the endeavors of men to express the power of the living thought and voice of God. Then to them ordinances will live; a real presence will be about their path. Sacraments and ordinances will live because something lives behind them. They are not using them falsely but reverently, and truly God has spoken to their souls; He has put back the truths into their hearts by the handle of some new-found life. It is the same with our own lives; often and often it happens that you feel life has lost its power and charm; its vigor was once great. I came up, for instance, into the midst of my fellows here, with all the enthusiasms of university life, and I rejoiced in them; but now, somehow or other, the novelty has gone away, and the interest has palled, and I do not care. Life has lost its meaning to me, and I do not feel that life is worth living at all. Yes, it is a contradiction in your own mind between the conception of life as in your nobler moments you form it and your own impotence. Has the ax-head gone? Has it slipt into the water? How can it be restored? The first thing a man discovers in his own impotence, is that the power which was in his hands was not his own. It is only when you and I see this that we can take it up again. Take life, and make it the reason for indulgence; take amusements, and make them the instruments for mere enjoyment; take study, and make it the reason for mere pride; and you will find the ax-head will slip off. All the knowledge you possess will be like blinded knowledge, capable of being applied to nothing. But believe it to be your own, given you of God--these hands, this brain, this heart, God's, not your own; these ordinances of religion God's, not your own; these teachings of the Church in all ages God's varied voice, which, if heard aright, shall blend into one mold in your ears. Take it up as His, and not your own; lift up your life right reverently; bend as you receive it from His hand, who can alone give you the restored fulness of His powers. You are surrounded by workers; your mind is often disturbed among the many cries and many sounds; but believe it, each of you has your own beam, and God can put into your hand the weapon which you are to use in hewing it down. Go forward, and be not afraid. PARKHURST CONSTRUCTIVE FAITH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE CHARLES HENRY PARKHURST was born at Framingham, Massachusetts, in 1842. Since 1880 he has been pastor of Madison Square Presbyterian Church, New York. He reads his sermons from a carefully prepared manuscript, from which he does not raise his eyes during the delivery. His English style is much admired for its force and compactness. His voice interests and impresses the hearer by its unusual depth and resonance. Dr. Parkhurst has taken a conspicuous part in the effort for civic purity and righteousness. He has published a number of books. PARKHURST Born in 1842 CONSTRUCTIVE FAITH _Why is it thought a thing incredible with you that God should raise the dead?_--Acts xxvi., 8. Paul stood before Agrippa to answer to him for the things whereof he had been accused. And one of the charges of which he stood indicted was his belief in the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the publicity with which he had proclaimed that belief. Such resurrection was to Paul credible, to Agrippa apparently incredible. Why? Why credible to the one, but incredible to the other? Does the difficulty lie in the event or in the method of approaching it? In the event, or, perhaps, in the mental or moral constitution of the people who contemplate it? The question is not one of mere academic interest. It is too deeply involved in the whole Christian scheme to have the door slammed in its face as a mere intellectual or scholastic intruder. The writer of the first Corinthian letter rather bruskly settled that matter when he wrote, "If Christ be not risen then is our preaching vain and your faith is also vain." As Paul understood it, that was one of the fundamentals of the gospel, and he, if any one, was competent to judge what its fundamentals were. And while there is an element of formality, ceremony and parade, in the way in which the Church, after nineteen hundred years, celebrates the event, yet the Church has a great deal of heart for the event, believes in it some and would like to believe in it more. Its attitude toward it to-day is, "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief." It is too deeply linked in with our thoughts of immortality for us to be able willingly to let go of it. One man slipping through the grave in an immortal way creates a chance for every other man. Even if Christ did not rise in the way predicated of Him, we may still be immortal; but the soul likes one good authenticated instance of a death that was not fatal as something definite to anchor itself upon, and is not always so sure of its anchorage grounds as to be able quite to rest in the hope it tries so hard to cherish. Aside from the fact that even if He did rise it was a great while ago--and the argumentative value of a fact tends to weaken with the centuries--there are other considerations that complicate the case, so that we always welcome whatever promises to relieve a little the strain of an unsettled confidence. It will be rather to our advantage then, I am sure, that we should distinctly face the fact that the event which the day celebrates is a somewhat severe tax upon that faculty of ours by means of which we are able to become convinced of what is unproved and perhaps unprovable. We can reason toward it a part of the way, but the reasons are all exhausted before we have arrived at an affirmative conclusion; and the gap that still remains we fill in with faith. It is better to state the situation in that frank way, for then we know exactly what we have to deal with. We can in part attest the fact of Christ's resurrection, but in part we have to accept it by the exercise of faith. That may be a discouraging condition of things, and may not be--discouraging, perhaps, if we mean by it only that we know it in part, and guess or imagine the rest. But we ought to seek for faith a somewhat more dignified and constructive function than that. There is this, at any rate, to be said about faith--that there is no faculty of which we make more constant use or that we use with greater effect when used wisely; and no faculty in which more of the richest contents of our personality admit of being concentrated. This faculty is going to be quite largely exercised by people to-day, and it is a favorable time to comment upon it. It is of great use in religious matters and the season an opportune one for encouraging its use and stimulating it to more complete development. It may enable us in some measure to understand why what was incredible to Agrippa was credible to Paul. While there is a larger field in religion for the exercise of faith than there is anywhere else, we ought to know that it is no more indispensable there than elsewhere. You, of course, are aware that there are very few things that can be absolutely proved--proved in such a way that something over and above is not required in order to insure a satisfactory conviction. Even if mathematical demonstrations seem to be an exception to that rule, you should remember that even there your demonstration has to start with something that is unproved and that can not be proved. As matter of fact, absolute demonstration is one of the rarities, whether in the intellectual, moral or spiritual world, and a man who is not so equipped as to be prepared to piece our logical proof with something else of a different complexion is in no condition to be confident of anything. As a rule, our conclusions contain a good deal more than was comprised in the premises. Logic is well enough in the text-books, is, besides, of considerable practical account, and yet if we never decided to do a thing until we were satisfied of its logical accuracy, we should leave nearly everything undone. In framing our convictions we make some use of reason, but either because the reasoning faculty is weak in us, or still more because the situation is such with us that our convictions do not have to be altogether reasoned out, the conclusions at which we arrive are usually a great deal sounder than can be logically accounted for. There is some reason about us and a good deal of something else--has to be. Otherwise, whether individually or collectively, we should never get anywhere. We trust people without being more than about half certain that it is safe to trust them, and usually discover in the end that we made no mistake in trusting them. We go aboard an express-train without having one syllable of information about the engineer, the engine, the track of the railroad, and nine hundred and ninety-nine times out of a thousand, and a good deal more, a ticket to Chicago will take us to Chicago. In the same way we talk confidently about the sun, but should make awkward work trying to prove that there is one--seeing that the little ethereal pulse-beat knocking just at the window of our own eye is the only direct information that we have of it. The heroism that is in our conclusions is something tremendous, and we talk about all these matters as tho we were perfectly at home with and had intellectually penetrated to the heart of them. It is interesting, and not only interesting but quite suggestive, the very slight degree to which ordinarily our confidence is discouraged by the small amount of distinct fact that we are able to adduce in justification of our confidence; how brave the steps are that we take upon ground that has never been accurately explored and of which, therefore, only the roughest outline map has been prepared. But at the same time how likely we are to find our way through and arrive safely at the terminal. Such illustrations are sufficient to indicate that this faculty that we have of believing where we are not able perfectly to see is a respectable faculty, a faculty that we are all showing our respect for by the constancy with which we make use of it in all our ordinary modes of thought and usual methods of action. So that when we talk about religious faith--faith in religious things, and in events of Christian history, we are dealing with an inner impulse that we depend upon every day, the only difference being a difference as to the field in which that impulse works; even as celestial gravity is the same as terrestrial gravity, only in the one case working among the stars, and in the other operating down here on the ground. Now this faculty that in common affairs we call belief and in religious ones faith, is quite a distinct thing from a disposition to walk in the dark when there is no light. Faith is not credulity. A fool can be credulous and certainly will be, but faith requires for its rooting and growth soil that is deep and strong. The men large enough to be great thinkers and immense workers were they whom the writer of the Hebrew letter describes as prophets of faith. There is a dignity and authority about the faith faculty poorly appreciated by people who give it a degraded position in the scale of human powers: the faculty of finding light enough to walk by when the light is only a twilight with no distinct sunbeams in reach to make the path brilliant. If faith were simply a process of assumption, a matter of easily and perhaps shiftlessly taking things for granted, then the smaller a man's soul the greater would be the likelihood of the abundance of his faith. But that is not the case. The men of which Scripture history especially predicates faith are the intellectual and moral giants of history, the men who were virile and strongly chivalrous enough to make long excursions into the region of truth and to move out in a large and telling way upon the field of action. Credulousness will grow and blossom with its roots hidden only in dry sand, but it takes something quite different from a human sand-lot to propagate the sort of quality and the modes of thought and activity celebrated in the eleventh of Hebrews. All men or women who have shown themselves able to be anything or do anything in the world have owed this competence to the fact that they have felt the presence of objects that were too remote from the eye to be distinctly seen, too remote from the mind to be distinctly known. Their field of clear vision has been invariably girt about with an encompassing zone so dense as to be almost impenetrable, but too obvious to remain invisible. It is with them a faltering perception of what is almost altogether out of sight. It is what St. Paul expresses when he says of faith that, "it is the evidence of things not seen." It is that captivating apprehension of regions lying beyond the scope of definite vision that creates a sense of no end of great possibilities and so breaks down the obstinacy of antecedent objection. This mysterious discernment that constitutes the genius of faith we see delicately illustrated even in the play of the bodily eye. However transparent the material atmosphere immediately about us, as the eye reaches forth into the distance the outlines become more and more obscure until the vision loses itself in the immensity of the prospect that it can only feel and scarcely distinguish. But even that makes the universe grow great before us as the little world we know is evidenced to be fringed with the bewitching margin of a world that is hardly in view. When, for instance, we look up into the sky on a starry night we are delighted, of course, by the stellar spots of distinct brightness, but after all, the charm unspeakable and almost crushing, of such a sky, is not the stars that we can distinctly see, but those whose edges are softened down into tantalizing obscurity, bits of nebulous uncertainty that leave us almost undecided whether they belong to the world of things visible or to the realm invisible; so that our sense of them becomes nearly as much a sense of the unseen as of the seen. And in the presence of celestial scenery in such manner stimulating to the mind and heart, any declaration in regard to the astronomic world, even fairly authenticated by competent authorities, would secure from us not only willing but eager acceptance. There pertains thus to the eye a kind of advance-guard of discovery that gives us a feeling of the unknown wonders that are away in the corner of the sky, quite before the eye is able to take strong visual hold upon them. And, as I say, it makes the universe larger and richer, and not only that, it lays out for us a sort of shadowy avenue along which the eye is encouraged to let its vision run out on experimental and adventurous trips with at least some prospect of being able to return from such excursions laden with more or less of the products of discovery. To people who sometimes lift their eyes above the level of the ground, such evasive hints as distant things give of themselves are very provocative; they tend to make the eye alert, to tax it to its utmost endeavor, to fill it with inquiry, and an interrogation is always the outrider of discovery. And that is the way always that things of whatever kind become known to us, by standing as closely as ever we can to the edge of the known and then feeling our way--not seeing our way, but feeling our way--as far as we can over the edge of the known out into the vast space where, in almost, not quite, utter indistinctness, hovers the unknown. That was the process by which Columbus discovered America. He discovered it by sailing along the line of his presentiment. He reasoned toward it as far as he could and then supplemented the insufficiency of reason by a generous contribution of faith; possest, that is, of so long a reach of thought and so roomy a conception of God's world that there seemed space in it for another Europe, which ought somehow to be there in order to fill that space. And the way in which the discoverer who sailed from Palos discovered a new geographical world is the way in which we have to approach the suspected contents of the religious world, suspected events of Christian history. The sense, the mastering sense, of outlying spiritual territory too obscure for us to say a great many definite things about it, but too certainly there to be denied or ignored, is a necessary prerequisite to all successful use or observance of such a day as we are celebrating. A man whose thoughts stop short at the point where those thoughts cease to move in perfect light can celebrate Easter as a formality, but never as a reality. The resurrection of Christ does not admit of absolute demonstration. Undoubtedly the testimony in favor of the event is strong. It was evidently unquestioned by a great number of intelligent people living at the time of its reputed occurrence. So much force as all such evidence has is to be estimated at its logical value. So Columbus estimated at its logical value all the indications that were afforded him of the existence of another continent. To most people of that generation those evidences appeared insufficient to warrant fitting out vessels of exploration, and it was long before funds requisite for the purpose could be secured. And the magnificent result and discovery was due to the fact that in Columbus' mind there was room for America and in the minds of other people there was not. His thought, or whatever you may call it, had in it a vitality that enabled it to move beyond the point where it could give a satisfactory account of itself. He could see beyond the point where he could see distinctly. The scheme of things as it lay drafted in his mind was drawn on a scale large enough to comprehend everything that was already definitely known, everything that was indefinitely surmised, and a good deal beside that neither he nor any one else had ever conjectured. Now what I want you to realize is that that is the kind of mind that does the world's work, the kind of mind that arrives, that kind of mind that is competent to come up close to the frontier, to venture across the frontier, to do some outside exploring, to bring back some of the products grown on ground newly explored, and thus practically to push forward the frontier and to add another lot of land to the world's geography, whether it be the geography of country, of thought, or of religious experience. And nothing more is asked for here than is demanded along every other line of life and expansion. It is only the men and women whose minds are sufficiently sensitive to the unknown to be able to take in more than has yet been definitely found that are ever the means by which anything new ever _is_ found. That is true in the departments of astronomy and geology and in every other field of whatever sort in which thought has ever done any work. A presentiment of the undiscovered is the regular prelude to discovery, and to the extent that men, whether from intellectual contractedness or from moral aversion, have not that presentiment they will be unable to allow even the historic proofs of Christian events the argumentative force that belongs to such proofs. The convincing power of an argument depends quite as much upon the size, fiber, quality of the man addrest as upon the logical compulsions or the argument used in addressing him, which is to say that we are responsible for what we believe as well as for what we know, and that the machinery of faith operates inside the domain of ethics. For example: standing on the basis of the harmonious testimony rendered by the intelligent authors of the gospel narratives, no one would dispute the truth of those narratives were there not in them references to events which lie out of line with things the scheme of which we happen to be familiar with, and which in the unblushing conceit of our unsophisticated humanness we dare to presume to be the whole of things; which means that people do not want the world to be any larger or any different from what they have already decided to have it; nor that any events should occur in it or occur anywhere but what are slow-paced enough to keep step with any most common thing that moves in our workaday life. Thomas would not believe in the risen Christ because risen Christs were not a part of the universe as he had plotted it. The other disciples did believe in a risen Christ because they were large enough to be able to think farther than they could think clearly, and because they were able to push the chariot of their convictions over a road that had not been logically paved. And undoubtedly when Thomas did finally accept Christ it was not because he had reasoned Him out in his mind nor fingered Him out by pressing his hands into the print of the nails, but because of having had divinely wrought in him a capacity for larger persuasions than his mental and moral contractedness had been hitherto able to accommodate. And that is still the way in which we have to acquire the art of great believing, the art of immense assurance of faith and the triumphant joy that is bound to go along with it. A world that is only large enough to contain our petty employments, or to contain our small pleasures and paltry lusts, is not a world big enough to have room in it for a human Son of God or for His immortal escape from the tomb. We might convert our Church into an Easter conservatory and crowd floor, galleries and chancel with a chorus of as many angels as heralded the advent, and all of this be a splendid tribute to the Lord of the resurrection and a splendid memorial of the great Easter event, but the prime point of all is for us each inwardly to grow to the proportions of so august an event, to be inwardly equal to the cordial and settled entertainment of so thrilling a thought, to have created in us such a sense of vast spiritual territory margining this small world of commonplace, as will give abundant space for transactions conducted on so large a scale as that of the marvelous birth, the death in whose presence the sun was darkened, and the great rising from the grave that broke down the walls between this world and the other, converted the coffin into a cradle of life eternal, and swung wide the doors of paradise. It is our prayer that the wide view opened before us by this memorial season may stimulate us to higher levels of thought; create for us a world too large to be filled with the small and passing interests and commonplace incidents of life; destroy for us in that way the obstinacy of antecedent objection; mental reluctance and moral antagonism be dissolved in the warm light of the larger prospect, till we become able to recognize Jesus in the gracious face and scarred figure; and in the cordiality of complete conviction to echo the words of the persuaded Thomas, "My Lord and my God." PATTON GLORIFICATION THROUGH DEATH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE FRANCIS LANDEY PATTON, Presbyterian minister and educator, was born in Bermuda in 1843. He studied at Knox College, Toronto, and Princeton Seminary, New Jersey. From 1865 to 1871 he held many pastorates, but in the latter year his work as a controversialist and educator began. He took a prominent part in the ecclesiastical trials of Prof. David Swing and Dr. C. A. Briggs, and was elected to succeed Dr. McCosh in the presidency of Princeton in 1888, but resigned in 1902, after which he was elected president of the Princeton Seminary. He is a deep thinker and dialectician, and a vigorous speaker on the theological subjects in which he is interested. PATTON Born in 1843 GLORIFICATION THROUGH DEATH[4] [4] Copyright, 1905, by _The Homiletic Review, New York_. _Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit._--John xii., 24. We all know that it was necessary for Christ to die, and that his path lay through the valley of the shadow of death. I do not take this text to illustrate this idea, but to concern myself with a line of illustration which has no reference to His death, and so will avoid the suggestion. We have here, in the first place, the enunciation of a principle which goes far toward unifying the moral and spiritual history of our world. Glorification through death is a principle that may be seen in various spheres of observation, and in the relation of the individual to the race. For instance, a man of ordinary education has a family of boys and girls. He has reached that time of life, the sure sign of middle age, perhaps a little beyond, when he ceased to raise the question that he has been raising about himself, How shall I make the best of myself? and he begins to raise the question-the only question he thinks of after that--What shall I do for them? "Well," he says, "I had but a limited education; they shall have the best the country can give or they are willing to take. I had but few opportunities; there is no lack of opportunity for them. I had many a rough encounter when I first set out in the world; they shall have the advantage of my accumulated earnings to set them up in life." Sure enough, the boys grow up and fill positions that the father and mother did not fill, and could not fill; and by and by they all come home again, and as they look on the dead man's face they say, or rather they seem to say, "Father did well by us," and they may very well say it. His hand had wrought for them; his head had thought for them; his heart had beat for them; this is the long result--the father lies in his coffin, and the children go their several ways in life, and repeat in their own experience the story; and so "the individual withers, and the world is more and more." And this principle of glorification through death is illustrated further in the fact that, when the lower forms of life or civilization disappear to make room for the higher, the one dominating phase of the doctrine of evolution is the seeming unity with which it invests everything; because, imagine it true, and there at once you see how moving are the poet's words: I held it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things. This is the story not of the potential, but of the actual. And what is true of the material world is true of the spiritual world. The history of the spiritual world is a history of displacement. You may account for it by the love of glory or by the sentiment of revenge, but we know that God's glory is the final cause, and it is all explicable upon the great scale of divine providence. We all understand that there is a definite relationship between our present and the past, and that we to-day are the heirs of all that civilization that has gone. Our acts are the result of all that has gone before. They were the seed and we are the harvest: "Except a corn of wheat fall into the earth and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." The mass of this early civilization survives in the civilization of to-day. Where do you go to find the origin of the great principle of civil liberty? Where do you go, but to that crowd of sturdy peoples who lived along the banks of the Rhine, and whom Tacitus describes, or to those sturdy barons at Runnymede who extorted the Magna Charta from King John? It is just as true in the sphere of science or philosophy. It is a far cry back to Thales of Miletus, and yet our own boasted century, the nineteenth, and this which may have boasts of its own, has a close relation to the civilization of the very far past. Our astronomy is different from their astrology, and our chemistry is different from their alchemy, but they are closely associated. We see further than they did sometimes, just because we are as pigmies borne on the shoulders of a giant. This principle of glorification through death is illustrated once more in that a new and expanded form of life is the fruit of death. Take the railroad at the proper season of the year, and see the corn standing as a dazzling glory in the fertile fields of the golden West. Mark how towers herald the approach to the towns and cities, and ask what they stand there for? These are the nation's treasure-houses. These are the storehouses of the world. This is the annual coronation of nature, and simply so many illustrations of the text: "Except a corn of wheat fall into the earth and die, it abideth alone; but if it die it bringeth forth much fruit." Change the illustration and borrow one from the humbler phases of the animal world, like the caterpillar, which eats up the floor of the leaf on which it creeps, until, by and by, as it begins to realize that its life is nearly done, it sets its house in order, turns undertaker, weaves itself a silken shroud, and awaits the dawning of its resurrection day, and soars away a bright-winged butterfly--a beautiful illustration of the text: "Except a corn of wheat fall into the earth and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." That is the story of our life. We are born, and we grow; we go on our way, renew our infancy with impaired faculties, and then we pass away. Life is a battle, and we win our greatest victory when we lie down on that battle-field and die. Life is a race, and the goal is at the grave. Life is a journey, and the path that we take lies straight for the valley of the shadow of death. The valley is dark, but beyond the darkness and across the river I see the lights of the celestial city; I get an echo of the angels' song, and the glimpse that I get tells me that it is worth all it costs to die. The principle of glorification through death is illustrated in the death of Judaism. Judaism was a divinely founded institution--a theological seminary. The purpose of it was to disseminate the knowledge of the one living and true God. With the approach of the pagan world and Christianity it gathered up its energies to give birth to Jesus of Nazareth. That is what it existed for; and in the throes of the birth-struggle Judaism died. Let us not speak reproachfully of Judaism, for the glory of Christianity is the glory of Judaism with an added glory: "Except a corn of wheat fall into the earth and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth fruit." Once more (for this is our Lord's own illustration concerning Himself), the principle of glorification through death is illustrated in the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ Himself. We see Jesus made a little lower than the angels and crowned with glory and honor. He suffered that we might conquer. He drank the bitter cup in order that we might taste something of the sweetness of the joys of His Father's house. He has settled the question of His own place, and of our place too, in the scale of being. The question whether the finite and the infinite can ever come together has been solved in the doctrine of the incarnation. We do not want any more to sing the old song, which never amounted to very much in the way of music or poetry: I want to be an angel, And with the angels stand, A crown upon my forehead, A harp within my hand. We do not want anything of the sort. Angels never rise so high nor stand so low as man. They know nothing about sin or repentance or salvation through Jesus Christ, and are not worthy to sit with Him who judges the ten tribes of Israel. This text not only fastens on us this principle of glorification through death, but, in the second place, it gives us a twofold vindication of death, the first being the perils of survivorship, and the second being the promise of grace. Death is one of the most philosophical things in the world; and if you put yourselves in the right attitude toward it, it is one of the kindest agencies in nature. There is such a thing as a time to die; for two reasons at least. One is the solitude of old age--the peril of survivorship--"Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone"; it abideth alone. You can imagine a person very old. His eyes have grown dim. Generations have grown old and died, but he still lives on. He is too old to take kindly to the new ideas, or to see much reason for the changes taking place. He is too old to have an interest in the present, too old to have any friends, and at last he lives, and lives, and lives, until he seems like a monumental intrusion into the present, an object that people stop to look at when they are in a reflective mood and wish to mark the flight of years. Who would not court a new-made grave rather than risk the perils of survivorship? Then there is the promise of grace. Our blest Lord hallowed the grave by His presence, and left it upon the morning of the third day. The promise of Christ gives us a connection with His own glorious resurrection; and planted with Him in His death, we shall be with Him in His glory. And so the message comes to you and to me: Be not afraid. Do not hesitate to go down, even into the grave. Our Lord has not made it unnecessary for us to die, but He has robbed death of its terrors. He has made easy the approach; He has festooned the entrance with flowers; and we ride through its portals, singing as we go, "O grave, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?" and we turn to discover that the door of death is the gate of heaven. Again, this text teaches one other truth. As we read it, we can not very well help being imprest with the idea that there is embodied in it the thought that there are two contrasted modes of being: a fruitless conservation and a prolific decay. The seed corn is very tenacious of life, and there is a story that grains taken from an Egyptian mummy have been planted and have germinated in English gardens. I believe that this is not so, but the tenacity of wheat in respect to life is true. It abideth; but it abideth alone. Let it reproduce itself, and by and by there will be enough of harvest to feed a nation. We must make a choice between a fruitless conservation and prolific decay. And this choice comes to us in so many ways. We see it in the sphere of prejudice. Prejudice is often, but it is not always, right. It is very often misplaced or perpetuated beyond a time when it does any good. (You never find a man cherishing a prejudice, because he says he is "standing up for a principle.") It was good enough when he started; it served its purpose at first; but it has outlived its usefulness, and is now just a prejudice. A good many years ago, at the foundation of the London Missionary Society, a speaker said, "We stand to-day at the funeral of bigotry." There is not a word of objection to that, except that these obsequies have been so unduly protracted. God send the day when men shall recognize the lineament of Jesus Christ in one another's face, whether they be Presbyterians, Episcopalians, or what! And this principle, this choice, whether there shall be a conservation that is fruitless, or an expenditure that is generous, meets us everywhere. It meets us in our relationship to the past. There is a sort of medievalism cherished and fostered by some people with an odor of sanctity--they love things which are old. And there is a vandalism that destroys the old, and worships the new, because it is new. My friends, they are both wrong. Let us look at our inheritance of the past in proof of this. Hold fast to that which is true, and do not hold anything that is not. Read the great formularies of worship with the critical light of modern thought, and hold on to that which is true. The Jerusalem Chamber is not holy ground, the Westminster divines were not inspired. If they said what was true, it is because of the truth of what they say that we hold on to it, not because they said it. And what is true in regard to these formulas holds true in reference to our own individual life. But there are times, I suppose, when people who live in a city as busy as this is, and where the engagements of the week run over into two weeks, and where every hour has its own employment, there are times, I suppose, even here that people have leisure to sit still while the fire burns; and in these choice stolen hours, I suppose, figures of long ago come out upon the canvas, and stand there in bold relief; and we say that they were happy days. Imagine that dear old room, and those pictures of long ago coming before us, when our imagination was all aglow. I can imagine that the door-bell might ring, and that one of those that we have not seen for fifty years was announced. I can imagine the conversation that would ensue. We would talk excitedly for twenty minutes, and then the conversation would flag, and before the hour was up we would be completely disillusioned, and would see that our paths had diverged. All that sort of thing was good in its way and time, but it is not the time for it now. Of course, we must have a foundation for the house. Still we do not live in the cellar. We live upstairs in the sunlight, and experience says we do well. These past incidents of life are just the foundation, and it is the superstructure after all that you build upon; and unless a man is willing to part with the past, he is going to make a mistake. Unless we learn to do better to-day the things that we did yesterday, and paint a better picture to-day, and write a better poem than the last, and are more proficient in our arts, we are just as good as dead. We are eternally improving and moving on. There is a conservation, stedfast and still; and there is a forgetfulness and a generous prodigality of past attainments that is prolific of vast results. There is your health. What are you going to do with it? You had better wear out than rust out any day. You can see people who make themselves obnoxious to you by their everlasting attitude of complaint. There is something better for a man to do than to take care of his health, and he will probably live longer if he does not. Is a man who has an intellect expected to have nothing better to do than to play nurse to his body that he has to summer in the North, and winter in the South, and to clothe with purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day, and give it now and then a trip to Europe--a body that is bound to die? There is your life. What are you going to do with it? There is your money. What are you going to do with it? Why, invest it, and be careful about your security, and don't be careful about the interest, and keep on investing and reinvesting, until it will take the figures of astronomy to count it. As fortunes go now, astronomy is not in it. Invest it, and then what do you do? There are so many things that some people might do and do do, that so many more people might do. They might perpetuate their names by doing something for the Church, for education, and for the world, and its moral, spiritual, and intellectual advance. God be praised for this! You, who have cast your bread of benevolence upon the waters of Christian philanthropy hope that you will receive it after many days. This world's history shows that our forests have not been cleared by the brawn of men who lived in comfortable homes. How have our liberties been secured? By the blood of men who counted no service too great. Can we do that? William of Orange might have lived a long life, but he stript himself of land and fortune, and planted himself in deadly opposition to Alva, and died a monument to the fall of Spanish tyranny. Yes, my friends, in humbler spheres it is your privilege, and mine, in the house of this tabernacle, to choose between the alternative of a conservation which is fruitless and an expenditure that is substantial, generous, and prodigal. It is a choice for us to make. Wrap yourselves in your mummy folds, and live for yourself or, in generous forgetfulness, live for God and country, and for fellow men while you live, and when the hour comes, without fear, if need be, drop into the ground and die. Help us, O Lord, to endure as good soldiers of Jesus Christ. Help us to do our duty so completely that every day we do better and become better and be with Christ. Help us that we may be ready for death, and in that last encounter may be as brave as in all the other encounters of our lives. Give us this faith to the end. For Christ's sake. Amen. SCOTT HOLLAND THE STORY OF A DISCIPLE'S FAITH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE HENRY SCOTT HOLLAND, English clergyman and author, was born at Wimbledon in 1847. He was educated at Eton and Oxford, at which university he was distinguished for learning and character. In 1844 he was appointed Canon of St. Paul's Cathedral, London. He has published "Logic and Life"; "Creed and Character," and other volumes. SCOTT HOLLAND Born in 1847 THE STORY OF A DISCIPLE'S FAITH _Then went in also that other disciple which came first to the sepulchre, and he saw and believed._--John xx., 8. John, the beloved disciple, has given his witness, has made his confession. What he once touched, and tasted, and handled, that he has declared unto us. It was the shining, the epiphany of God the Father which he and the twelve had discovered, tabernacled close at their side in the body of Christ. "We saw his glory, the glory as of God himself." So he pronounces. Yet still his listeners sit on about his feet. They hear great words, but these words are the end of a long and anxious meditation. The apostle is giving us, is giving them his completed conclusions--yes, and they have accepted the conclusions; they hold them fast. But it is not enough to know what they ought to believe, tho that is much--they must also know the process by which the conclusion is to be reached. They must reproduce in themselves the living story of its formation. They must be conscious of its stages, its degrees, and its growth. They can not surely be as reapers entering into the labors of others who went forth weeping with good seed. They must feel their own faith grow, first the blade, then the ear, and so at last, in ample richness, the full corn in the ear; and therefore they went on wondering. "Let us hear it all," they say; "tell us of that day when first it came to you that something wonderful was there. Tell us how you slowly learned the great mystery; and then tell us when and how it was that the full truth broke from your heart and from your lips. Tell us this, that so we, too, may say with you and with ten thousand times ten thousand: 'Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.'" This is the question that St. John sets himself to answer; and you can see that it is so by this, that he begins his gospel, not with our Lord's own beginning, the baptism by John, but with the day on which the disciples began to believe on Him; and he ends it, not with our Lord's own ending, His ascension, but with the first completed confession of Jesus by an apostle--the confession of Thomas. This achieved, his gospel is done; he has nothing to add but one scene that to him was full of tender personal interest. The Fourth Gospel tells us how the apostolic faith was built and established. Let us carefully turn to it, for it is a revelation of the apostle's own heart. The old man himself is bidding us draw near and taste of his own experiences. He unlocks his soul to us that he may help us to mount up into his assured peace, so calm, so sure, so strong. He sits there murmuring always his: "Come, Lord Jesus, even come"; and round about him, enthroned in the majesty of age, is that mysterious silence in which the voices of the Spirit and the Bride say: "Come." And yet he can turn from that upward vision and bend his eyes back on us--on us, so perplexed, and troubled, and hesitating, and fearful, and bewildered. He can yearn to make us fellowship in his joy. "Little children, it is the last hour. Even now are there many antichrists. And now, my little children, abide in him. My little children, let no man lead you astray, for this is the true God and eternal life; and therefore, O my children, keep yourselves from idols." So tender, so beseeching, the fatherly love! And in the name of that love he sets himself to tell the story of his own conversion, how he had begun. He can recall every tiny detail of that first critical hour. It began on the day when John the Baptist cast off the hopes that were so eagerly bent upon him; for he it was, the Baptist, and not the Lord Jesus, who first woke in their hearts that spiritual movement which became Christianity. He roused first the cry of the new faith, and passionately they had given him their souls--they and all who, seeing John, mused in their hearts what would be the Christ. Even the Pharisees of Jerusalem felt the excitement and shared the hope; and it was to their deputation that the Baptist made his great repudiation: "No; I am not it, not the Christ; no, nor Elias, nor a prophet. I am nought but a flying cry in the wilderness, a cry that floats by on the wind and perishes. Not I, but another--another who comes after me; yea, who is now standing among you, even tho you know it not." So he confest. He denied not, but confest; so brave a heart he had! All those hearts were at his service, a world of devotion all lying there at his feet; but he would not be tempted. He knew his own limits; he would have none of it. He confest, and denied not: "I am not the Christ." And then came the great moment. It was the very next day after the great confession--so exact is the apostle's memory. The very day after, John saw Jesus coming toward him, and a wonderful word broke from him: "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world." Taketh away the sin! Oh, the peace of such a promise to those who had been washed in Jordan, and had repented, and had confest, and yet found their burden of sin as miserable, as intolerable as ever! The words haunted them; and when, the day following, John uttered them again, two of them at least could not rest. Their hearts burned to know more. Who is this strange visitant--so quiet, so silent, so unobserved? He makes no sign. He says no word. He invites no attention. He does not even stop to look. He just passes by; and, lo! He is already passed--in another moment He will have gone. They must act for themselves then. They will force Him to stop and tell them the secret. So two of them that heard John speak followed Him--two of them, and John the beloved, who now tells us the story, was one of the two. And now that they followed, He, the Stranger, must turn and speak. For the first time, then, He looked upon them with that look which again and again had power to draw a soul, by one glance, out of the night of sin into the life of eternal light. He turned and saw them following, and it was then they heard His voice first speak--that voice which by its cry could raise the dead. "Whom seek ye?" That was all. And they--they hardly knew what to say--only they must see Him, must go with Him; and they stammered out: "Rabbi, where dwellest thou?" And He said: "Come and see." Come and see! It was all as quiet and natural and easy as any ordinary interview. No one could have seen anything unusual. Just a few words of salutation--just three short sentences that could be said in half a minute. And yet that sealed their lot for eternity. That was the moment of decision. "Come and see." They went and saw. So intense is the apostle's memory of that blest hour that he can never forget the very hour of the day. It was just ten o'clock when he got to the house. They stopt there with Him that night; and in the morning they were sure of what they had found--so sure that neither of them could rest until he had hurried off with the good news to find and bring his brother. Andrew found his brother before John could find James; or else it was that both went at once to seek for Peter, and Andrew found him first. Anyhow, when Peter was found, both were prepared to assert, "We have found the Christ." And so they brought the great chief to his Master; and in a moment the Master knew what He had won in that loyal, loving soul, and He turned those deep eyes upon him, and named him by his new name. "Thou art Simon, the son of Jonas; thou shalt be called Cephas." So it all began. The very next day after that the Master Himself added one other to the number--Philip a friend of Peter's and Andrew's--and Philip brought Nathaniel; and these were the little band whom the Master took with Him from Jordan to Cana--the seed of that great Church which now reigns from Babylon to Rome. "And what next"--so the listeners ask--"what was the next step made?" Three days later, at Cana, for the first time, came that strange secret of which the apostle had spoken. The glory shone out with a sudden flash from the deeps within Him; a word of power leapt out--very quietly. Very few saw or knew it. But as the few saw there the white water redden into wine, they knew, and felt the wonder of that change which had passed over their own being. That word of power was at its work within them, transforming them from out of sickly impotence into splendid energy. They saw now what it was that had happened when the Lord spoke, that it would have the same power whether He spoke to matter or spirit, to body or soul; whether He said: "Thy sins be forgiven thee," or "Rise up and walk." As water into wine, so the old into the new. So the light flashed; so the secret made its first disclosure. It had vanished again, for His hour had not yet come; but they had seen it, and this is John's enduring record, remembered by us this day, that there first at Cana Jesus manifested His glory, and there His disciples first believed in Him. And what next did they learn? It was at Jerusalem, the Passover feast. The Master made His first entry and startled them, for He who was so quiet and reserved burned with a sudden fury as He looked upon the temple of Jehovah. Very, very rarely did He show Himself excited or disturbed; but then He was terrible. He bound together a scourge of small cords. He drove the cattle in front of Him; He dashed over the money-changers' tables. And John can recall still the look of the coins as they poured down upon the pavement. And they, the disciples, wondered at the violence of the emotion, until a word from an old Psalm came into their minds, and they remembered how it was written that the zeal of the Lord's house should be in a prophet's heart like a devouring fire. At that time, too, the Lord Himself gave a sign and spoke a word, which at the time the disciples could make nothing of, and forgot. It was about the temple being destroyed and raised again in three days. They forgot it; but long after, when He had risen from the dead, the old words came back to them: "After three days I shall raise it again"; and they remembered then how He had spoken them two years before His death, and as they remembered, they believed.... And how can we stop to follow the apostle through all the wonderful story? Yet just one thing we can not pass over--the awful hours of crisis in Galilee. It came just when all looked brightest, when the people were rushing round Him, and would have made Him a king. They would have gone with Him to the death. But He--He threw it all away to the winds. He hurried off the twelve in a body across the lake, for they had caught the crowd's enthusiasm, and could not be calmed. He scattered the crowd; He fled back Himself alone into the dark hills, and on the morrow at Capernaum, He broke it all down by a word which staggered the rising belief. It was a saying about His body and His blood--a very hard saying. Not only were the Pharisees furious, but His own followers were dumfounded. They could not bear it, could not believe. They fell away, and walked no more with Jesus. "And you, O disciple dearly loved, what of you and your brethren?" "Most terrible, most bitter that hour, my children," the old man answers. "We walked trembling, quaking, behind him. We were cowed and disheartened, until he the Master felt himself the chill of our dismay, and He turned to us and challenged our failing faith. 'Will ye also go away?' Oh, the shame of being open to a charge of such meanness! The very tenderness of the question and of the reproach recalled and recovered us. We knew nothing. We could explain nothing. Every clue was lost. The darkness was thickening over our heads, our hearts were failing for fear, our souls were sinking in the great water-floods, earth was falling from us; struggle, and anguish, and doubt shook us with wild alarm; and yet, even so as he turned his eyes upon us, the old unconquerable faith woke, and stirred, and quickened; and with a rush, as of a mighty wind, it lifted us; and out from Peter's lips broke the words which saved us--the words which sealed us to Him forever: 'Will we go away? Nay, Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life!' So we spoke with burning hearts, and yet through and through us still those strange eyes of His pierced. Deep below all our emotion He penetrated. Quite calmly He weighed its worth; and in one of us even then He detected a flaw which would widen and worsen. One of us, He knew, hung back from echoing St. Peter's confession. One spirit there was there that could not throw off its dismay, one dark spirit in whom the hard saying was the seed of bitter and poisonous fruit. 'Have I not chosen you twelve, and yet one of you is a devil?' He spoke of Judas Iscariot, who should betray him." So they followed and clung, the trembling band; clung through all the narrowing days in which the Jewish enmity hardened itself into the hate of hates; clung even tho their souls fell away from the rapture of St. Peter to the desperate wail of Thomas: "Let us go with him that at least we may die with him"; clung even through the terrors of that last evening, when they sat shaking with the very shudder of death, and the soul of the Master Himself was trouble-tossed, and there was the scent of treachery in the air, and the end was very near, and He spake dim, dark words that they could not follow--only they knew one thing, that He was to be taken from them, and they sat shrouded in a mighty sorrow such as no assurances even of His could lessen or lift. One moment there was indeed even then in which they seemed suddenly to lay hold of His meaning. "Now we believe," they cried. "Now we are sure that thou camest forth from God." So they cried, and yet He met their professions with a sorrowful hesitation. "Do ye now believe? Yea; the hour is all but come when ye will all flee and leave me alone." How sad and cowed they felt at the rebuff! Were they then never to rise into the joy of clear and entire belief? Yes; it came at last. Blest assurance! Let John tell how it was reached by him. Two points he singles out for himself as marking epochs of his own conviction, and in them both we are let inside the workings of his innermost mind. And how curious, yet how natural is the working! For in every hour of agony the mind becomes strangely and fearfully alert to very little things. It is sensitive to sudden and ineffaceable impressions. It is touched into the swiftest and subtlest activity by the tiniest touches of detail. Often in the supreme moment of a dark tragedy, the fibers of the imagination seem to close round some minute incident, like the ticking of a clock in the hush of a death-chamber; and never throughout the long years that follow can it detach that tiny incident from its memory of the black hour. And so with St. John. He stood below the bitter cross, and he saw the nails beaten through the hands and feet, and he heard the last loud cry, and yet still his despair hung heavy as death upon his soul, until, just at the touch of the soldier's spear, there broke from the dead side a little jet of blood and water. What was it that he saw and felt? What was it that so startled him? Why could that little jet of blood and water never pass out of his sight? Why should it haunt him sixty years after, as still his heart wonders over the mysterious witness of the water and the blood? We can not tell. Perhaps he could never tell. Only his spirit woke with a start. Only a strange tremor shook him, and somehow just then, just at that little pivot moment, he must break off all his story, to declare with abrupt and quivering emphasis: "This is the disciple that wrote these things. He it is who saw the water and the blood, and he knows that his record is true." And once again, in the haste of the resurrection morning, what was the moment and what was the scene which turned his despair into belief? It was the moment at which he stooped down and saw within the empty tomb the folded napkin and the linen clothes. What did he notice? Why, that the napkin that had been round the Master's head was not lying with the linen clothes, but was rolled up in a place by itself. A tiny, tiny thing! Yet somehow it was that which he saw and never forgot. It was that which he could never omit from his story of the resurrection--the rolled-up napkin lying apart from the linen clothes. Was it the sudden sense that struck him of order and seemliness as of a thing premeditated, intended? Was it the reaction of detecting the quiet tokens of deliberate purpose there, where all had seemed to him a very chaos of confusion? Who can say? Only just then a key was somewhat turned and a bolt shot back somewhere within his breast, and a secret flashed in upon him, and a thrill of insight rushed over him, and his blindness fell off as it had been scales, and a quiver of hope shot up like a flame, and a new light broke over him, and he passed at one bound out of death into life. "Then entered in, therefore, that other disciple which came first to the tomb, and he saw and believed." My brethren, where do you stand? How far have you come in this pathway of faith? Are you yet at the beginning, looking wistfully, with hungry eyes, after a hundred gallant human heroes who point you this way and that? Are you musing in your heart which of them may be your guide and master, which is the Christ? Good, and fair, and high they may be; but they must all confess it, they can not deny it--they are not the Christ. And all of them who are honest will earnestly assure you, "It is not I, but another." Oh, and that other even now standeth among you, tho you know Him not yet; and there is a voice gone out upon Him which has gone out upon none other ever born of woman, with this witness, "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world!" Consider it. What an assurance! Who is there that has ever been brave enough to accept such a salutation without a whisper of protest, without a shadow of a scruple? Who is this that dares to stand up before the entire mass of His fellows and say, "Come, all who are weary and heavy-laden--come, all who are burdened sorely with sin--come all to me--I will give you rest?" Who is He? Look at Him. He is passing even now before you. Follow Him. He is very quiet, and still, and silent; but follow Him. He will turn at last and speak, and invite you--invite you a little further. "Master, where dwellest thou?" "Come and see." O Jesus, Lord and lover of souls, there are many of us laden with sickness and sin, so many that are sad with doubt and fear, that are asking: "Master, where dwellest thou?" Oh, let them even come home with Thee and see. Go and see. Abide with Him, talk with Him. Wait upon Him. Learn His words. Take up His gospels. Read them with care, with silence to yourself, with thought and prayer. Abide with Him one night at least, that you may in the morning be able to tell your fellows: "I have found the Christ." And then suddenly, now and again, a light flashes, and a glory is made manifest to you. Some touch of Divine benediction will break out of the secret silence, some sudden joy, some gift of power. It is as at Cana with you when the water ran into wine. Yet this when it comes, remember, is not the end. It is but a pledge. You may not cling to the blessings and the gifts of faith. They flash and disappear, and you will not be surprized to find that you have yet a long road to travel--a road of disappointment, of increasing failure, of gathering pain, of enlarging doubt--doubt! why not? Doubt of the ways and the methods of God. Doubt of the path as the darkness encompasses, doubt of Christ's meaning, of His wisdom, of His readiness, of His care, of His guidance. The obscurity may even deepen as you advance along the road of faith. The storm may grow blacker and fiercer, for the higher your faith in God, the darker will be your despair at His failure to make His name good. And you will find Him fail. He will seem to come so little way in the world; He will seem to miss opportunities. It is very hard to believe in One in whom others believe less and less every day. And then it is, when all are falling away and the hard sayings of theology begin to harass and repel, then it is that you must call with all your might upon the St. Peter within you that you may have the heart of fire that will feel but one thing, will feel that if the world fell into ruins, and if the power of God Himself be hidden, yet there stands the Christ still facing you with the question: "Will you go away? Will you fail as others failed me?" Will you feel then but this, just that you must send out your faith in the one passionate cry: "Lord, thou art there, and that is all. Thou hast the words of eternal life. To whom can I go? Tho all men forsake thee yet will not I; and in spite of all, I believe, and am sure that thou art the Christ, the holy one of God?" That is the faith which is felt indeed as a rock under the feet, and to such faith the love of God will make itself more and more manifest. You will so trust Him in the black night, you who can walk on knowing nothing but that Christ goes before you, you who mutually cling with the violence of an ineradicable love to Him Who has enthralled you, you will find yourselves carried on day after day, you know not how, until at last you find yourselves enclosed in some upper chamber with the Master. Yes, and there the secrets of His love are disclosed, and the mysteries of His counsels, and the hidden wonder of His victory, and the strange glory of His consolation. You will not know or understand all; you will feel yourselves held in the grasp of a wisdom that reaches far and away beyond your little day. You will inquire with stammering lips as Philip and Judas, not Iscariot, and Thomas stammered in the upper chamber before you, and the answer that He gives will be but dim; and yet you will know enough to make you absolutely sure that the truth as you hold it in Jesus is the truth that holds the world in one in God, and you will be able to cry in glimpses of peculiar manifestation: "Lord, now speakest thou plainly, and speakest no parable. Now I believe, and have known, and am sure that thou camest forth from God." And yet even that faith, the faith of roused feelings, may lapse again; even that moment of blessing may lose its power over you. Yes, for only when you become convinced not only of your possession of a Teacher who once came on earth from God, but more, of a Lord living on the far side of death, living in the might of a resurrection life, able to stand by you in that life-giving might as you keep there with the faithful in the upper chamber--able to feed you with His life now from that home of His beyond the grave--only then, when you so receive Him, and take of Him, and taste Him, and know yourselves quickened in Him--only so will your last doubt pass away from you, only so will the close of the crown of your faith be obtained, and you will end--as the story of St. John ends--with the cry of doubting Thomas, with his last doubt scattered--the cry in which the perfected apostolic faith at last saluted its rising Master--"Jesus Christ, my Lord and my God." STALKER TEMPTATION BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE JAMES STALKER, professor of Church History in the United Free Church College, Aberdeen, was born at Crieff in 1848, and was educated at the universities of Edinburgh, Halle, and Berlin. He has been an incumbent of many pastorates in Scotland, and has published "Life of Jesus Christ"; "Life of St. Paul"; "The Preacher and His Models," etc. In 1891 he delivered the Lyman Beecher Lectures on Preaching, at Yale, and is examiner for the degree of B.D. in Aberdeen University. STALKER Born in 1848 TEMPTATION _There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to men; but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it._--1 Cor. x., 13. Once, when I was going to address a gathering of young men, I asked a friend what I should speak to them about. His answer was: There is only one subject worth speaking to young men about, and that is temptation. Of course, he did not mean this literally: he only meant to emphasize the importance of this subject. Was he not right? You remember, in the story of the Garden of Eden, where the tree which represented temptation stood? It stood in the midst of the garden--just at the point where all the walks converged, where Adam and Eve had to pass it every day. This is a parable of human life. We are out of paradise now; but the tree of temptation still stands in our life where it stood then--in the midst; where all the roads meet; where we must pass it every day--and every man's weal of wo depends on the attitude to it which he takes up. There are six attitudes in any of which we may stand to temptation--first, we may be tempted; second, we may have fallen before temptation; third, we may be tempting others; or, fourth, we may be successfully resisting temptation; fifth, we may have outlived temptation; sixth, we may be assisting others to overcome their temptations. As I should like these six attitudes to be remembered, let me give them names; and these I will borrow from the politics of the continent of Europe. Any of you who may glance at times into the politics of France or Germany will be aware that in their legislative assemblies there prevails a more minute division into parties, or groups as they are called, than we are accustomed to. In your politics you are content with two great historical parties--Republicans and Democrats. But, as I have said, in Continental parliaments the members are divided into groups. You read of the group of the left center, the group of the left, and the group of the extreme left; the group of the right center, the group of the right, and the group of the extreme right. I do not pretend that even these are all; but I will take these as the six names I need for characterizing the six attitudes in which men may stand to temptation. On the left there are three--first, the group of the left center, by which I mean those who are being tempted; second, the group of the left, by which are meant those who have fallen before temptation; third, the group of the extreme left, or those who are tempters of others. And on the right there are three groups--the fourth group, that of the right center, containing those who are successfully resisting temptation; the fifth, the group of the right, or those who have outlived their temptations; and the sixth and last, the group of the extreme right, that is to say, those who are helping others to resist their temptations. Let me run rapidly over these six groups. I. The group of the left center or those who are being tempted. With this one I begin; because we have all been in it. Whether we have been in the other groups or not, we have all been in this one: we have all been tempted. One of the first things we were told when we were quite young was that we should be tempted--that we should have to beware of evil companions; and there is not one of us in whose case this prediction has not come true. There is, indeed, no greater mystery of providence than to understand the unequal proportions in which temptation is distributed. Some are comparatively little tempted; others are thrown into a fiery furnace of it seven times heated. There are in the world sheltered situations in which a man may be compared to a ship in the harbor, where the waves may sometimes heave a little, but a real storm never comes; there are other men like the vessel which has to sail the high seas and face the full force of the tempest. Many here must know well what this means. Perhaps you know it so well that you feel inclined to say to me, Preacher, you know nothing about it; if you had to live where we live--if you had to associate with the companions whom we have to work with, and hear the kind of language which we have to listen to every hour of the day--you would know better the truth of what you are saying. Do not be too sure of that. Perhaps I know as well about it as you do. Perhaps my library is as dangerous a place for me as your workshop is for you. Solitude has its temptations as well as society. St. Anthony, before his conversion, was a gay and fast young man of Alexandria; and, when he was converted, he found the temptations of the city so intolerable that he fled into the Egyptian desert and became a hermit; but he afterward confest that the temptations of a cell in the wilderness were worse than those of the city. It would not be safe to exchange our temptations for those of another man; every one has his own. I believe, further, that every man has his own tempter or temptress. Every man on his journey through life meets with some one who deliberately tries to ruin him. Have you met your tempter yet? Perhaps he is sitting by your side at this moment. Perhaps it is some one in whose society you delight to be, and of whose acquaintance you are proud; but the day may come when you will curse the hour in which you ever saw that face. Some of us, looking back, can remember well who our tempter was; and we tremble yet, sometimes, as we remember how nearly we were over the precipice. One of the chief powers of temptation is the power of surprize. It comes when you are not looking for it; it comes from the person and from the quarter you least suspect. The day dawns which is to be the decisive one in our life; but it looks like any other day. No bell rings in the sky to give warning that the hour of destiny has come. But the good angel that watches over us is waiting and trembling. The fiery moment arrives; do we stand; do we fall? Oh, if we fall, that good angel goes flying away to heaven, crying, fallen, fallen! II. The group of the left or those who have fallen before temptation. Tho I do not know this audience, I know human nature well enough to be certain that there are some hearing me who are whispering sadly in their hearts, This is the group I belong to: I have fallen before temptation; it may not be known; it may not even be suspected; but it is true. To such I bear a message of hope to-day. The great tempter of men has two lies with which he plies us at two different stages. Before we have fallen, he tells us that one fall does not matter; it is a trifle; we can easily recover ourselves again. And, after we have fallen, he tells us that it is hopeless: we are given over to sin, and need not attempt to rise. Both are false. It is a terrible falsehood to say that to fall once does not matter. Even by one fall there is something lost that can never be recovered again. It is like the breaking of an infinitely precious vessel, which may be mended, but will never again be as if it had not been broken. And, besides, one fall leads to others; it is like going upon very slippery ice on the face of a hill; even in the attempt to rise you are carried away again farther than ever. Moreover, we give others a hold over us. If we have not sinned alone, to have sinned once involves a tacit pledge that we will sin again; and it is often almost impossible to get out of such a false position. God keep us from believing the devil's lie, that to fall once does not matter. But then, if we have fallen, he plies us with the other lie: It is of no use to attempt to rise; you can not overcome your besetting sin. But this is falser still. To those who feel themselves fallen I come, in Christ's name, to say, Yes, you may rise. If we could ascend to heaven to-day and scan the ranks of the blest, should we not find multitudes among them who were once sunk low as man can fall? But they are washed, they are justified, they are sanctified, in the name of our Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God. And so may you be. It is, I know, a doctrine which may be abused; but I will not scruple to preach it to those who are fallen and sighing for deliverance. St. Augustine says that we may out of our dead sins make stepping-stones to rise to the heights of perfection. What did he mean by that? He meant that the memory of our falls may breed in us such a humility, such a distrust of self, such a constant clinging to Christ as we never could have had if we had not fallen. Does not the Scripture itself go even further? David fell--deep as man can fall; but what does he say in that great fifty-first Psalm, in which he confesses his sin? Anticipating forgiveness, he says: Then will I teach Thy ways unto Those that transgressors be, And those that sinners are, shall then Be turned unto Thee. And what did our Lord Himself say to St. Peter about his fall? "When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren." A man may derive strength to give to others from having fallen. He may have a sympathy with the erring; he may be able to describe the steps by which to rise, as no other can. Thus, by God's marvelous grace, out of the eater may come forth meat, and out of the strong may come forth sweetness. III. The group of the extreme left or those who are tempters of others. These three groups on the left form three stages of a natural descent. First, tempted; secondly, fallen; then, if we have fallen, we tempt others to fall. This is quite natural. If we are down ourselves, we try to get others down beside us. There is a satisfaction in it. To a soul that has become black a soul that is still white is an offense. It is said of some, "They rest not except they have done mischief, and their sleep is taken away, except they cause some to fall." There is nothing else, I think, in human nature so diabolical as the delight which the wicked feel in making others like themselves. Have you never seen it? Have you never seen a group of evil-doers deliberately set themselves to ruin a newcomer, scoffing at his innocence and enticing him to their orgies? And, when they succeeded, they rejoiced over his fall as if they had won a great triumph. So low can human nature sink. Sometimes it may be self-interest that makes man a tempter. The sin of another may be necessary to secure some end of his own. The dishonest merchant, for his own gain, undermines the honesty of his apprentice; the employer, making haste to be rich, tempts his employees to break the Sabbath; the tyranical landlord forces his tenants to vote against their conscience. Why, there are trades which nourish on other people's sins. But perhaps the commonest way to become a tempter is through thoughtlessness. I protest, we have no pity for each other's souls. We trample about among these most brittle and infinitely precious things, as if they were common ware, and we tempt one another and ruin one another without even being aware of it. Perhaps, indeed, no one who goes to the place of wo goes there alone; perhaps every one takes at least one with him. I hear it said nowadays that the fear of hell no longer moves men's minds; and that preachers ought no longer to make use of it as a motive in religion. Well, I confess, I fear it myself; it is a motive still to me. But I will tell you what I fear ten times more. What! is there anything which a man can fear ten times more than the fire that never shall be quenched? Yes! it is to meet there any one who will say, You have brought me here; you were my tempter; and but for you I might never have come to this place of torment. God forbid that this should ever be said to me by any one. Will it be said to any of you? But now let us turn away from this side of our subject and look at the bright side--at the three groups on the right. IV. The group of the right center, or those who are successfully resisting temptation. Not very long ago a letter chanced to come under my eye. It was by a young man attending one of the great English universities. One day two or three fellow students had come into his rooms and asked him to join them in some amusement of a questionable kind, which they were contemplating. On the spur of the moment he promised; but, when they had gone, he thought what his parents would say if they knew. It was a godly home he belonged to and a very happy one, in which the children were bound to the parents in such a way that they kept no secrets from them. He thought of his home, and he had doubts whether what he had promised to do might not cause pain there. He was afraid it would; and he promptly and frankly went and told his companions that his engagement was off till he should inquire. The letter I saw was the inquiry. It affected me deeply to read it; for it was easy to understand how much manliness was required to do that which might be interpreted as unmanly. The memory of that man's home came to him in the hour of temptation and made him strong to resist. I wonder this influence does not prove a rescuing power oftener than it does. Young men, when you are tempted, think of home. I have been a minister away in a provincial town; and, I think, if you could realize the mother's terror, and the father's stricken frame, and the silent tearful circle, as I have seen them--it would make you fling the cup of temptation from your lips, however persuasive was the hand that proffered it. Yet this will not always be a strong enough motive in the struggle with temptation. There will come times when you are tempted to great sin which will appear to you absolutely safe from discovery and not likely to inflict the slightest injury on your fortunes. In such circumstances nothing will sustain you if you do not respect your own nature and stand in awe of your own conscience. Nay, even this is not enough; the only effective defense is that of one who was surely tempted in this very way, "How can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?" There are secret battles fought and victories won on this ground, never heard of on earth, but essentially more glorious than many victories which are trumpeted far and wide by the breath of fame. There is more of courage and manhood needed for them than for walking up to the cannon's mouth? Many a soldier could do that who could not say "No" to two or three companions pressing him to enter the canteen. Not long ago I was speaking to a soldier who told me that many a time in the barracks he was the only man to go down on his knees out of twenty or thirty; and he did it among showers of oaths and derision. Do you think walking up to the cannon's mouth would have been difficult to that man? Such victories have no record on earth; but be sure of this, they are widely heard of in heaven, and there is One there who will not forget them. V. The group of the right or those who have outlived their temptations. On this point I do not mean to dwell; but I should like at least to mention it, as there is contained in it a great encouragement to some who may be enduring the very hottest fires of temptation. Perhaps your situation is so intolerable that you often say, I can not stand this much longer; if it lasts as it is, I must fall--"One day I shall fall into the hands of Saul." No, you will not. I bid you take courage; and as one encouragement I say, you will yet outlive your temptation. That which is a temptation at one period of life may be no temptation at all at another. To a child there may be an irresistible temptation in a sweetmeat which a man would take a good deal to touch; and some of the temptations which are now the most painful to you will in time be as completely outlived. God may lift you, by some turn of providence, out of the position where your temptation lies; or the person from whom you chiefly suffer may be removed from your neighborhood. The unholy fire of passion, which now you must struggle to keep out of your heart, may, through the mercy of God who setteth men in families, be burnt away and replaced by the holy fire of love burning on the altar of a virtuous home. The laughter and scorn which you may now be bearing for your Christian profession will, if you only have patience, be changed into respect and veneration; for even the ungodly are forced at last to do honor to a consistent Christian life. In these and other ways, if you only have patience, you will outlive temptation; tho I do not suppose we shall ever in this world be entirely out of its reach, or be beyond the need of these two admonitions: "Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation," and, "Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." VI. The group of the extreme right, or those who are helping others to overcome temptation. You see, on the right there is an upward progress, as on the left there was a downward one. The first step is to be successfully resisting temptation; a higher one is to have outlived temptation; the highest of all is to be helping others to resist it; tho I do not say that this must be the chronological order. It is the order of honor. This group of the extreme right is the exact opposite of the group of the extreme left. Those in the latter group are tempting others to fall; those in this one are encouraging and aiding others to stand fast. No man ought to be satisfied till he is in this noble group. There are many ways in which we may assist others with their temptations. A big-hearted man will often be doing so without being aware of it. His very presence, his attractive manhood, his massive character act as an encouragement to younger men and hold them up. I do not know anything so much to be coveted as in old age to have men coming to say, Your example, your presence, your sympathy were like a protecting arm put round my stumbling youth and helped me over the perilous years. My brothers, if a few men can honestly say this to us in the future, will it not be better than Greek and Roman fame? Many are helping the young against their temptations by providing them with means of spending their leisure innocently and profitably. Our leisure time is the problem. While we are at work, there is not so much fear of us; but it is in the hours of leisure--the hours between work and sleep--that temptation finds men, and they are lost; and therefore I say, there is no more Christian work than providing men with opportunities of spending leisure profitably. But by far the best way to help men with their temptations is to bring them to Christ. It may be of some service to a man if, in the time of trial, I put round him the sympathetic arm of a brother; but it is infinitely better if I can get him to allow Christ to put round him His strong arm. This is the effectual defense; and no other can be really depended on.... BURRELL HOW TO BECOME A CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE DAVID JAMES BURRELL was born at Mount Pleasant, Pennsylvania, in 1849. He graduated from Yale College in 1867. Since 1891 he has been pastor of the Marble Collegiate Church, New York, which was founded in 1628. Dr. Burrell is unusually popular as a pulpit preacher, and attracts many young people to his evening services. His delivery is clear-cut and vigorous, and often he rises to dramatic heights of eloquence. His gesture is marked by grace and appropriateness, and his illustrations are always chosen with felicity. His sermons are stenographically reported and printed each week in pamphlets for wide distribution. BURRELL Born in 1849 HOW TO BECOME A CHRISTIAN[5] [5] Copyright, 1906, by the American Tract Society. Reprinted by permission. _And there arose no small stir about that way._--Acts xix., 23. The name by which the early Christians were familiarly known was "The people of that way." In the year 36 the Sanhedrin issued a commission to Saul of Tarsus authorizing him to arrest any whom he might find "of the way, whether they were men or women, and to bring them bound unto Jerusalem." (Acts ix., 2.) In the year 58, twenty-two years later, the same Saul, now an apostle of Christ, made a defense from the steps of the Castle of Antonia, in which he said, "I persecuted this way unto the death, binding and delivering into prison both men and women" (Acts xxii., 4). The name thus given to the followers of Christ is significant for many reasons. The question has been raised in some quarters as to whether religion is dogma or life. In fact, our religion in the last reduction is neither dogma nor life; it is a way from sin into the Kingdom of God. Its bed-rock is truth, its pavement is character, its destination is eternal life. It is a plain way; as indicated in the prophecy, "A highway shall be there and a way, and it shall be called the way of holiness; the wayfaring man tho a fool shall not err therein." Nevertheless, to the unsaved no question is more bewildering than this: "What shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?" In the Pocono Mountains, last summer, I found it very difficult to keep in the old Indian trail; tho it was easy enough for my comrade, who had been born and bred in the vicinity. A letter lies before me, written by a man of affairs, in which he says, "All my life I have been an attendant at church; I would like to be a Christian, but I confess that I have never yet learned how to set about it." It is my present purpose to make this matter as clear as I can. Let it be said at the outset that one thing only is needful in order to become a follower of Christ--to wit, that one shall believe in Him, but, before we come to that, we must touch upon a matter of preliminary importance. A man must repent before he believes in Christ (Mark i., 15). Now repentance is not a saving grace, having value only as it leads to something further on. The pain of a physical malady has no curative virtue; but it is this pain that inclines the patient to ring the doctor's bell. So John the Baptist goes before Christ with his cry, "Repent ye!" Since without repentance there is no adequate sense of need, nor disposition to accept Christ. Let us get a clear understanding of repentance. It suggests at the outset, an apprehension of sin as a fact; not a figment of the imagination, not "a belief of mortal mind"; not an infection due to environment, and therefore involving no personal accountability; but a distinct, flagrant violation of holy law, by which the sinner is brought into rebellion against God. And sin must be apprehended, furthermore, as a calamitous fact, that is, involving an adequate penalty: "The soul that sinneth, it shall die." A true penitent recognizes the justice of the punishment which is imposed upon him; as did the repentant thief, when he said to his comrade, "We indeed are condemned justly." One who spends his time in trying to explain away hell and "the unquenchable fire" and "the worm that dieth not," is not a penitent man. And sin must be furthermore recognized as a concrete or personal fact. It is not enough to acknowledge the incontrovertible presence of sin in the world around us. The important thing is, that this sin inheres in me. So David prayed, "Have mercy upon me, O God, according unto thy loving kindness; for I have sinned and done this evil in thy sight." He had always known, in general terms, that adultery was a fearful thing; but when it pointed its gaunt finger at him in the watches of the night and hissed, "Bathsheba!" it brought him to his knees. And this conviction of sin must be followed by a resolution to forsake it. The true penitent fears his sin, hates it, loathes it, abhors it, and determines to quit it. But observe, all this is merely preliminary to the one thing needful. There is no virtue in repentance _per se_. The penitent is not saved; he has only discovered his need of salvation. He knows his malady; now how shall he be cured of it? To pause here is death. One in a sinking boat must not be satisfied with stopping the leak; the boat must be baled out. A man head over ears in debt can not recover his credit by resolving to pay cash in the future; he must somehow cancel his past obligations. If a penitent were never to commit another sin, the "handwriting of ordinances" would still be against him. The record of the past remains; and it will confront him in the judgment unless it be disposed of. The past. The mislived past! What shall be done about it? This brings us to the matter in hand: What shall I do to be saved? or How shall I become a Christian? Our Lord at the beginning of His ministry said to Nicodemus, "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him, should not perish, but have everlasting life." And to make the matter perfectly clear to this learned rabbi, He resorted to the kindergarten method, using an object-lesson: "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up (that is, crucified), that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life." So the one thing needful is to believe in Christ. The same truth was repeated over and over in the teachings of Jesus and of His disciples as well. To the jailer of Philippi who, in sudden conviction, was moved to cry, "What shall I do?" the answer of Paul was, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." But what is it to "believe in Christ?" It is easy to say, "Come to Christ" and "Accept Christ" and "Believe in Him"; but just here occurs the bewilderment. These are oftentimes mere shop-worn phrases to the unsaved, however simple they may appear to those who have entered on the Christian life. To believe in Christ is, first, to credit the historic record of His life. Once on a time He lived among men, preached, wrought miracles, suffered and died on the accurst tree. So far all will agree; but there is clearly no saving virtue in an intellectual acceptance of an undisputed fact. It means, second, to believe that Jesus was what He claimed to be. And His claim is perfectly clear. To the woman of Samaria who sighed for the coming of Messiah He said, "I that speak unto thee am he." No reader of the Scripture could misunderstand His meaning, since the prophecy of the Messiah runs like a golden thread through all its pages from the protevangel, "The seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head," to the prediction of Malachi, "The Sun of righteousness shall arise with healing in his beams." But, more than this, Jesus claimed that as Messiah He was the only begotten and co-equal Son of God. He came forth from God and, after finishing His work, was to return to God and reassume "the glory which he had with the Father before the world was." It was this oft repeated assertion which so mortally offended the Jews as to occasion His arrest on the charge of blasphemy. He persisted in His claim, and was put to death for "making himself equal to God." It must be seen, therefore, that no man can be said to believe in Christ who is not prepared to affirm, without demur or qualification, that He was what He claimed to be. It means, third, to believe that Jesus did what He said He came into the world to do. And here again there can be no doubt or peradventure. He said, "The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister and to give his life a ransom for many." His death was to be the purchase price of redemption. In the wilderness He was tempted to turn aside from His great purpose. The adversary led Him to a high place, and with a wave of his hand, directed His thought to the kingdoms of this world, saying, "All these are mine. I know thy purpose: thou art come to win this world by dying for it. Why pay so great a price? I know thy fear and trembling--for thou art flesh--in view of the nails, the fever, and dreadful exposure, the long agony. Why pay so great a price? I am the prince of this world. One act of homage, and I will abdicate. Fall down and worship me!" Never before or since has there been such a temptation, so specious, so alluring. But Jesus had covenanted to die for sinners. He knew there was no other way of accomplishing salvation for them. He could not be turned aside from the work which He had volunteered to do. Therefore He put away the suggestion with the words, "Get thee behind me, Satan! I can not be moved! I know the necessity that is laid upon me. I know that my way to the kingdom is only by the cross. I am therefore resolved to suffer and die for the deliverance of men." On a later occasion, on His way to Jerusalem--that memorable journey of which it is written. "He set his face stedfastly" to go toward the cross--He spoke to His disciples of His death. He had been with them now three years, but had not been able fully to reveal His mission, because they were "not strong enough to bear it." A man with friends, yet friendless, lonely in the possession of His great secret, He had longed to give them His full confidence, but dared not. Now, as they journeyed southward through Cæsarea Philippi, He asked them, "Who do men say that I am?" And they answered, "Some say John the Baptist; others, Elias; others, Jeremias, or one of the prophets." And he saith, "But who say ye that I am?" Then Peter--brave, impulsive, glorious Peter--witness his good confession: "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God!" The hour had come. His disciples were beginning to know Him. He would give them His full confidence. So as they journeyed on toward Jerusalem He told them all how He had come to redeem the world by bearing its penalty of death; "He began to show them how he must suffer many things of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed." At that point Peter could hold his peace no longer, but began to rebuke him, saying, "Be it far from thee, Lord! To suffer? To die? Nay, to reign in Messianic splendor!" And Jesus turning, said unto him, "Get thee behind me, Satan!"--the very words with which He had repelled the same suggestion in the wilderness. As He looked on His disciple, He saw not Peter, but Satan--perceived how the adversary had for the moment taken possession, as it were, of this man's brain and conscience and lips. "Get thee behind me, Satan! I know thee! I recognize thy crafty suggestion; but I am not to be turned aside from my purpose. Get thee behind me! Thou art an offense unto me. Thy words are not of divine wisdom, but of human policy. Thou savorest not the things that be of God, but those that be of men!" From this we conclude that the vicarious death of Jesus is the vital center of His gospel, and that any word which contravenes it is in the nature of a Satanic suggestion. It follows that no man can truly believe in Christ without assenting to the fact that the saving power is in His death; as it is written, "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin," and, "Without the shedding of blood there is no remission." He came into the world to die for sinners, that they by His death might enter into life; He came to take our place before the bar of the offended law, to be "wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities, that by his stripes we might be healed"; He came to "bear our sins in his own body on the tree"; and to believe in Christ is to believe that He did what He came to do. It means, fourth--and now we come to the very heart of the matter--to believe that Christ means precisely what He says. He says to the sinner, "The Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins." He says, "Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." He says, "He that believeth in me hath everlasting life." At this point belief means personal appropriation; acceptance, immediate, here, now. It is to make an end of doubt and perplexity and all questionings, by closing in with the overtures of divine mercy. It is to lay down one's arms and make an unconditional surrender. It is to take the proffered hand of the Savior in an everlasting covenant of peace. It is to say, "My Lord, my life, my sacrifice, my Savior and my all!" But just here is where many hesitate and fail. They do not "screw their courage to the sticking point." They come up to the line, but do not take the step that crosses it. They put away the outstretched hand, and so fall short of salvation. The will must act. The prodigal in the far country will stay there forever unless his resolution cries, "I will arise and go!" The resolution is an appropriating act. It makes Christ mine; it links my soul with His, as the coupler binds the locomotive to the loaded train. It grasps His outstretched hand; it seals the compact and inspires the song: 'Tis done, the great transaction's done, I am my Lord's and He is mine! He drew me, and I followed on, Charmed to confess the voice divine. High heaven that hears the solemn vow, That vow renewed shall daily hear; Till in life's latest hour I bow And bless in death a bond so dear! Now this is all. The man who really believes on Christ is saved by that alone. He can never be lost. As Wesley sang, "Christ and I are so joined, He can't go to heaven and leave me behind." But salvation from the penalty of sin is not the whole of salvation; only the beginning of it. The sequel to "becoming a Christian" is following Christ. "Salvation" is a large word, including growth in character and usefulness and all the high attainments which are included in a genuine Christian life. This is what Paul means when he says, "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God that worketh in you." Work it out! Work your salvation out to its uttermost possibilities! Be a maximum Christian; not content with being saved "so as by fire," but craving "an abundant entrance" into the kingdom. All this is accomplished in the close and faithful following of Christ. This "following" is the sure test and touchstone by which a man determines whether he has really come to Christ and believes in Him. Our "good works" are not meritorious as having any part in our deliverance from condemnation; but they are the acid test of our faith; and they also determine the quality of the heaven that awaits us. And, in this sense, "they shall in no wise lose their reward." To use a rude figure; a man going to an entertainment gets a ticket of admission, but for his reserved seat he pays something more. "The just shall live by faith;" but the abundance of their life is determined by the product of their faith. Wherefore, he loses much who, while believing in Christ, follows Him afar off. To follow Christ at the best, means to regard Him as our Priest, our only Priest, whose sacrifice is full and sufficient for us. We forsake all other plans of salvation and trust simply and solely to the merit of His atoning blood. To follow Christ means to regard Him as our only Prophet or Teacher. All preachers, ecclesiastical councils, historic creeds and symbols are remanded to a subordinate place. His word is ultimate for us. To follow Christ means to regard Him as our King. He reigns in us and over us. His love constrains us. His wish is our law. His authority is final. "Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it." And to follow Christ means to do all this in the open. It may be that some who refuse to confess Christ are ultimately saved by Him; but the presumption is immensely against the man who lives that way. "Stand forth into the midst!" "Quit thyself like a man!" In closing, we return to iterate and reiterate the proposition that our salvation from sin and spiritual death is by faith in Christ and by that only. Let no side issues enter here to confuse and bewilder us. "He that believeth shall be saved." That is final and conclusive. Our deliverance is wholly of grace: we do not earn it. "The wages of sin is death: but the gift of God is eternal life." Long as I live, I'll still be crying Mercy's free! And therefore all the glory is unto God: "Of whom are we in Christ Jesus, who is made unto us wisdom and righteousness and sanctification and redemption; that, according as it is written, if any man glory, let him glory in the Lord." Nevertheless, the benefit of the gift is conditioned on our acceptance of it. The manna lies about our feet "white and plenteous as hoar frost," but it will not save us from famishing unless we gather it up and eat it. The water gushes from the rock, but we shall die of thirst unless we dip it up and drink it. Christ on the cross saves no man; it is only when Christ is appropriated that He saves us. We must make Him ours. We must grasp His extended hand. Luther said, "The important thing is the possessive pronoun, first person singular." One of the fathers said, "It is the grip on the Blood that saves us." Christ stands waiting--he offers life for the taking. Who will have it? The worst of sinners can make it his very own by saying with all his heart, "I will! I do!" WATSON OPTIMISM BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE JOHN WATSON, widely known under his pen name of "Ian Maclaren," was born at Manningtree, Essex, England, in 1850. For many years he was pastor of Free St. Matthew's Church, Glasgow. He died at Mt. Pleasant, Iowa, in 1907. He enjoyed unusual popularity, both as a preacher and as a lecturer. In 1896 he gave a course of lectures to the students of Yale. "The Bonnie Brier Bush" is his best-known book. Another volume of his, "The Cure of Souls," is full of splendid practical suggestions for the minister and divinity student. Here is a sample of his satire directed toward certain speakers: "It is said that there are ingenious books which contain extracts--very familiar as a rule--on every religious subject, so that the minister, having finished his sermon on faith or hope, has only to take down this pepper-caster and flavor his somewhat bare sentences with literature. If this ignominious tale be founded on fact, and be not a scandal of the enemy, then the Protestant Church ought also to have an 'Index Expurgatorius,' and its central authorities insert therein books which it is inexpedient for ministers to possess. In this class should be included 'The Garland of Quotations' and 'The Reservoir of Illustrations.'" WATSON 1850-1907 OPTIMISM[6] [6] Reprinted by permission of the publishers, A. C. Armstrong & Son. _Go ye therefore and teach all nations._--Matthew xxviii., 19. Among the characteristics of Jesus' teaching which have passed into the higher consciousness of Christianity is an inextinguishable optimism. When He was only a village prophet, Jesus declared that the social Utopia of Isaiah was already being fulfilled; when He gave the Sermon on the Mount He spoke as a greater Moses, legislating not for a nation but for a race. If He called apostles, they were to disciple every creature, and if He died it was for a world. His generation might condemn Him, but they would see Him again on the clouds of heaven. His death would be celebrated in a sacrament unto every generation, and being lifted on a cross He would draw all men to Him. The apostles who failed in His lifetime would afterward do greater works than Himself, and He who departed from their sight would return in the Holy Ghost and be with them forever. He looks beyond His own land, and embraces a race in His plans. He ignores the defeats of His own ministry, and discounts the victory of His disciples. He teaches, commands, arranges, prophesies with a universal and eternal accent. This was not because he made light of His task or of His enemies; no one ever had such a sense of the hideous tyranny of sin or passed through such a Gehenna, but Jesus believed with all His heart and mind in the kingdom of God, that it was coming and must come. He held that the age of gold was not behind, but before humanity. The high spirit has passed into the souls of Christ's chief servants. The directors and pioneers, the martyrs and exemplars of our faith have had no misgivings; the light of hope has ever been shining on their faces. St. Paul boasted that he was a free-born Roman, but he was prouder to be a member of Christ's commonwealth, whose capital was in heaven and in which all nations were one. He was loyal subject of Cæsar, but he owned a more magnificent emperor at God's right hand. Above the forces of this present world he saw the principalities and powers in the heavenly places fighting for his faith. Scourged and imprisoned he burst into psalms, and he looked beyond his martyrdom to the crown of righteousness. Shackled to a soldier he wrote letters brimming over with joy, and confined to a barrack room he caught through a narrow window the gleam of the eternal city. Never did he flinch before a hostile world, never was he browbeaten by numbers, never was he discouraged by failure or reverse. He knew that he was on the winning side, and that he was laying the foundation of an everlasting state. You catch the same grand note in St. Augustine with all his horror of prevailing iniquity; in the medieval hymn writers celebrating Jerusalem the Golden, when clouds of judgment hung over their heads; and in the missionaries of the faith who toiled their life through without a convert, and yet died in faith. They might be losing, but their commander was winning. The cross might be surrounded with the smoke of battle, it was being carried forward to victory. They were right in this conviction, but do not let us make any mistake about the nature of this triumph, else we shall be caught by delusions, and in the end be discouraged. It will not be ecclesiastical, and by that one means that no single church, either the Church of Rome, or the Church of England, or the Church of Scotland will ever embrace the whole human race, or even its English-speaking province. One can not study church history since the Reformation, or examine the condition of the various religious denominations to-day without being convinced that there will always be diversity of organization, and any person who imagines the Church of the East making her humble submission to Rome, or the various Protestant bodies of the Anglo-Saxon race trooping in their multitude to surrender their orders to the Anglican Church has really lost touch with the possibilities of life. Nor will the triumph be theological in the sense that all men will come to hold the same dogma whether it be that of Rome or Geneva. There will always be many schools of thought within the kingdom of God just as there will be many nations. Neither one Church nor one creed will swallow up the others and dominate the world. He who cherishes that idea is the victim of an optimism which is unreasonable and undesirable. The kingdom of God will come not through organization but through inspiration. Its sign will not be the domination of a Church, but the regeneration of humanity. When man shall be brother to man the world over, and war shall no longer drench cornfields with blood: when women are everywhere honored, and children are protected: when cities are full of health and holiness, and when the burden of misery has been lifted from the poor, then the world shall know Christ has not died in vain, and His vision shall be fulfilled. A fond imagination which only tantalizes and disheartens! It is natural to say so, but magnificent dreams have come true. Suppose you had been on the sorrowful way when Jesus was being led to His doom, and women were pitying this innocent prophet whose hopes had been so rudely dashed, and whose life had been so piteously wasted. "Ah!" they cry, "His illusions have been scattered, and His brief day is going down in darkness." It appeared so, but was it so? Suppose while the kind-hearted people were talking, some one had prophesied the career of Jesus. They would have laughed and called him a visionary, yet which would have been right, the people who judged by Jesus' figure beneath the cross, or the man who judged Jesus' power through that cross? The people who looked at the mob of Jerusalem, or the man who saw the coming generations? There are two ideas of Christ's crucifixion in art, and each has its own place. There is the realistic scene with the cross raised only a few feet from the ground, a Jewish peasant hanging on it, a Roman guard keeping order, and a rabble of fanatical priests as spectators. That is a fact, if you please, down to the color of the people's garments and the shape of the Roman spears. Very likely that is how it looked and happened. There is also the idealistic scene with a cross high and majestic on which Christ is hanging with His face hidden. Behind there is an Italian landscape with a river running through a valley, trees against the sky, and the campanile of a village church. At the foot of the cross kneels St. Mary Magdalene, on the right at a little distance are the Blest Virgin and St. Francis, on the left St. John and St. Jerome. The Roman soldiers and the Jewish crowd and that poor cross of Roman making have disappeared as a shadow. The great cross of the divine Passion is planted in the heart of the Church and of the race forever. Facts? Certainly, but which is the fact, that or this? Which is nearer to the truth, the Christ of the sorrowful way or the Christ at God's right hand? Have there been no grounds for optimism? Has the splendid hope of Christ been falsified? One may complain that the centuries have gone slowly, and that the chariot of righteousness has dragged upon the road. But Christ has been coming and conquering. There is some difference between the statistics of the Upper Room, and the Christian Church to-day; between slavery in the Roman Empire and to-day; between the experience of women in the pre-Christian period and to-day; between the reward of labor in Elizabeth's England and to-day; between the use of riches in the eighteenth century, and the beginning of the twentieth; between pity for animals in the Georgian period and to-day. If we are not uplifted by this beneficent progress, it is because we have grown accustomed to the reign of Christianity, and are impatient for greater things. We are apt to be pessimists, not because the kingdom of God is halting, but because it has not raced; not because the gospel has failed to build up native churches in the ends of the earth with their own forms, literature, martyrs, but because all men have not yet believed the joyful sound. There are two grounds for the unbounded optimism of our faith, and the first is God. How did such ideas come into the human mind? Where did the imagination of the prophets and apostles catch fire? Where is the spring of the prayers and aspirations of the saints? Whence do all light and all love come? Surely from God. Can we imagine better than God can do? Can we demand a fairer world than God will make? Were not the Greek philosophers right in thinking that our ideals are eternal, and are kept with God? It is not a question of our imagining too much, but too little, of being too soon satisfied. So soon made happy? Hadst thou learned What God accounteth happiness Thou wouldst not find it hard to guess What hell may be his punishment For those who doubt if God invent Better than they. The other ground for optimism is Jesus Christ. Does it seem that the perfect life for the individual, and for the race, is too sublime, that it is a distant and unattainable ideal? It is well enough to give the Sermon on the Mount, and true enough that if it were lived the world would be like heaven, but then has it ever been lived? Yes, once at least, and beyond all question. Christ lived as He taught. He bade men lose their lives and He lost His; He bade men trample the world underfoot and He trampled it; He commanded men to love, and He loved even unto death. This He did as the forerunner of the race. Why not again with Christ as Captain? Why not always, why not everywhere? Is not He the standard of humanity now, and is not He its Redeemer? Has He not been working in the saints who have reminded the world of God? Will He not continue to work till all men come to the stature of perfection? Only one institution in human society carries the dew of its youth, and through the conflict of the centuries still chants its morning song. It is the religion of Jesus. I do not mean the Christianity which exhausts its energy in the criticism of documents or the discussion of ritual--the Christianity of scholasticism or ecclesiasticism, for there is no life in that pedantry. I do not mean the Christianity which busies itself with questions of labor and capital, meat and drink, votes and politics, for there is no lift in that machinery. I mean the Christianity which centers in the person of the Son of God, with His revelation of the Father, and His gospel of salvation, with His hope of immortality and His victory of soul. This Christianity endures while civilizations exhaust themselves and pass away, and the face of the world changes. Its hymns, its prayers, its heroism, its virtues, are ever fresh and radiant. If a man desires to be young in his soul let him receive the spirit of Jesus, and bathe his soul in the Christian hope. Ah, pessimism is a heartless, helpless spirit. If one despairs of the future for himself and for his fellows, then he had better die at once. It is despair which cuts the sinews of a man's strength and leaves him at the mercy of temptation. Do you say, What can I do, because the light round me is like unto darkness? Climb the mast till you are above the fog which lies on the surface of the water, and you will see the sun shining on the spiritual world, and near at hand the harbor of sweet content. True, we must descend again to the travail of life, but we return assured that the sun is above the mist. Do you say, What is the use of fighting, for where I stand we have barely held our own? Courage! It was all you were expected to do, and while you stood fast the center has been won, and the issue of the battle has been decided. It was a poet who had his own experience of adversity, and was cut down in the midst of his days, who bade his comrades be of good cheer. Say not, the struggle naught availeth, The labor and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not nor faileth, And as things have been they remain. If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars. It may be in yon smoke concealed, Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, And, but for you, possess the field. For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light, In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward look, the land is bright. NICOLL GETHSEMANE, THE ROSE GARDEN OF GOD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE William Robertson Nicoll, Presbyterian minister and author, was born at Lumsden, Aberdeenshire, 1851. He was educated at the University of Aberdeen, where he took his degree in 1870. He was Free Minister of Dufftown, 1874-1877; of Kelso, 1877-1885. In 1886 he became editor of _British Weekly_, _Bookman_, _Expositor_ and _Woman at Home_, and is a prolific writer of books, mostly theological. NICOLL Born in 1851 GETHSEMANE, THE ROSE GARDEN OF GOD[7] [7] Copyright, 1901, by _The Homiletic Review,_ New York. _Without shedding of blood is no_--Heb. ix., 22. I had a strange feeling, dear brethren, this morning, in busy London, on a week-day, in the sunshine, reading these words from the Epistle to the Hebrews; and it struck me that some few would think they were strangely antique, that they contrasted violently with your morning newspapers. And then it passed through my mind again that there could not be anything so vitally modern, so close and quick to the moment in London as just my text--"Without shedding of blood there is no"--no anything; nothing; no mighty result, no achievement, no triumph, no high thing accomplished without shedding of blood. That is just on the lowest plane what we are getting to know as a nation, and if we are taught it as Christians, then we shall come to know at last what Christianity means. Dear brethren, life is just our chance of making this great and strange discovery, that without shedding of blood there is nothing, nothing at all. How do young people begin, most of them? They begin by doing little or nothing; they begin by trifling. And then they begin to find that they are not making progress. And if so, they are wise, gradually they put more strength into it; and then more, till at last they have put all their strength into it. And then they say they have not succeeded, have not gained their point. And they say, What have we got to do now? You take off your coat to your work. A man may disrobe; what more can be done? What more have I got left? Left? You have got your blood left, and until you begin to part with that you will never do any great work at all. I mean by that, if you leave a mark in life; to fulfil a mission in life there is wanted something more than the concentration of life. I appeal to you, there is wanted, besides, the pruning of life, aye, and even the maiming of life. There must be for success, even in the business world, I say, in the world of commercial achievement, there must be more and more an actual parting with the life before it is reached. And we are being sternly taught this lesson as a nation. But I want to teach it this morning to the Church as Christians. Well, let me go back to the very beginning. I find that there is in the primitive elemental religion a profound and solemn witness to this truth; "Without shedding of blood there is no remission," no peace with God, no life in Christ. And I look upon these early and crude and distorted ideas as God's deep preparation of the mind and heart of man by the grand gospel of the substitution under the law of Jesus Christ for guilty sinners. And we can not get those thoughts out, they are embodied in our very language. Do you know what the word "bless" means, what it was derived from? The word "bless" comes from the Anglo-Saxon word for "blood." And the idea dimly aimed at is this: that before you can really bless a fellow creature you must part with your life, or part of your life, for him; shed blood. We can do a great deal by little things; our Lord said so--by smiles, by gifts, by kind words, by cups of cold water. Christ will never forget these things. But at the same time, if you are to bless a soul in the superlative sense, you can not do it in that easy way; you have to sprinkle the soul with blood, and with your own blood. You know what I mean. Oh, some of you know it who have labored for another soul for weary years; you know it too well. But part with your life and you will win a soul at last. It will cover a multitude of sins. I wish I had time to quote from the primitive religions; but I would remind you of the old legend of the building of Copenhagen. The builders could not make progress with their work; the sea came in and took it away, until at last they took a human life, and by the sacrifice of that human life they gave to the city stability. And you know the old idea of primitive religion, that the corn will not grow in the seed ground unless the body of a dead man is buried there--life coming out of death. Now, I say all these things point on to the supreme Author of the universe; Jesus died, the Just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God. Now do you not think you can see how it is that the eternal Son shed His blood in Gethsemane, and offered Himself immaculate to God on Calvary? But we shall never know quite--none of the ransomed ever know--how deep were the waters crost, or how dark was the night that the Lord passed through ere He found the sheep that was lost. But we read with hearts bowed the prayer offered up with strong crying and tears--the prayer, "If it be possible let this cup pass." There is no prayer like that, when you feel that a life is hanging in the balance, that the issues are not quite decided, that your prayer might turn it. Then you understand what prayer can be. And we hear those dim, overcome witnesses who heard afar the broken moaning, the long-drawn sighs, who saw the hard-won victory which seemed defeat, and we read--I love to read--about that all-pitying but undimmed angel who appeared to strengthen at last. God made His minister a flame of fire in the dark and cold, else could Christ have conquered? His prayer was answered; the cup was not taken away, but His lips were made brave to drink it, and He drank it and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers. Some of my friends think that the real crowning-point in the suffering of Christ was Gethsemane, that it was over there that the cross was more the public and open manifestation which the world, passing by the wayside, could see. I do not know. Christ quivered a lament upon the cross too. And now I come to the two thoughts of my sermon. In the first place, partly from etymology, we learn that the shedding of our own blood is the condition of our blessing others. And then my second point is, that since bloom and blossom, the perfection of life, are also associated with the root, with the word blood, then I say that the bloom and perfection of our own lives depend upon our parting with the natural life and having it replaced by the resurrection life. I hope it is simple enough. Without shedding of blood there is no blessing to others; without shedding of blood there is no blessing to ourselves. Take these two great ruling missionary ideas. I. Bloodshed for blessing others. I spoke about Gethsemane because I wanted you to understand that I was referring not merely to absolute physical death, but to the death which leads a man to go on, and perhaps to live more abundantly than before. But still, dear friends, we have been most solemnly and impressively reminded in these times, that, whatever has failed in the Church of Christ, the race of martyrs has not failed. Great names have been written there, the names of those who have been received in heaven. And, for my part, I love the way in which the Church of Rome reverences the martyrs. You know that that Church never prays for the martyrs, but makes requests for their prayers; you know that that Church pictures in the assembly of the redeemed before the throne the martyrs in their robes of crimson and the saints in white. The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church. We can not atone for others, but we can bless others. We can not, dear friends, have any part in the one perfect oblation and substitution in the sacrifice of the world, but we fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ. We know Him and the fellowship of His sufferings as well as the power of His resurrection. And when Christ first laid His hand on His well-beloved He said: "I will show him how great things he must suffer for my name's sake." This is the chief work of the martyr, to suffer; and it is the chief work of every Christian to suffer for Christ's name's sake. And I sometimes think the whole of Christianity, for the present generation, is summed up in this: fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ, for until that is filled up He can not have His triumph. But, dear brethren, of course I do not confuse labor and suffering in the Christian servant's life. The labor is effective in proportion as there is suffering, and the suffering by itself is nothing without the labor. But, oh, how Christ's great servants have suffered! Have you ever thought how St. Paul was actually driven to use the awful language of the passion when he described his own life? He did not like to do it; he always drew the line sharp and clear between himself and the Master. He said, "Was Paul crucified for you?" Yes; but he was driven to say, "I am crucified with Christ"--always bearing about the body and its death--"I die daily." Oh, they have suffered by way of bloodshed. Yes; but, dear brethren, I think that in the lives of the great servants of Christ, the elect servants, there is always one Gethsemane above the rest, far above the rest; one shedding of blood, one parting with life which makes all the rest comparatively easy. We can not tell, I think, about other people's Gethsemane; and we can not tell, will not tell, nothing would make us tell, about our own. How does the Gethsemane come? Often it is passed with very little sign or show. You have read in "The Bonny Brier Bush" that when George Howe came home to die, his mother hid herself beneath the laburnum, and as the cat stood beneath the stile, it told the plain fact, as she had feared. And Margaret passed through her Gethsemane with the gold blossoms falling on her face. I believe there are some of you who are passing through your Gethsemane in this chapel while I am speaking to you now. There is little to show--some absence of manner, some twitching of the lips, some unwonted pallor, some strange abstraction, but no more. And you will never tell anybody about it, and nobody will discover it when you are dead. You sometimes suspect--do you not?--about another man what his Gethsemane has been. You are almost sure to be wrong. That surrender which you see was accomplished almost without murmur or reluctance. Sometimes in biographies I think I can see where the Gethsemane is. It may be, and often is, the rooting out of some cherished ambition that has filled the heart and occupied every thought, every dream for years and years. It may be the shattering of some song, the breaking of some dream. It may be, and often is, a great rending of the affections, the cutting the soul free from some detaining human tenderness. Well, we do not know--the real Gethsemane never lasts long. I think an hour is the longest that anybody could bear it--"Could ye not watch with me one hour?" True, the heartache may go on to the end, but the Gethsemane, that can not last a long time. We have in biographies some instances of Gethsemanes, and sometimes in very unexpected places. You would not imagine that a prosperous suburban minister, with a rich congregation, and every earthly ambition realized, would have his Gethsemane as a missionary far among the heathen has. But in the "Life of Dr. Raleigh," of Kensington, whom many of you remember, there is a significant passage. When he was at the zenith of his fame he said that ministers came and looked around at his crowded church and envied his position. "They do not know," he said, "what it has cost me to come to this." In the "Life" of the beloved James Hamilton, of Regent Square, there is a passage which always touches me. It shows how he parted, for Christ's sake, with the great ambition of his life. He longed to write a life of Erasmus, but other things came and he was balked of his desire. He says: "So this day, with a certain touch of tenderness, I restored the eleven tone folios to the shelf and tied up my memoranda, and took leave of a project which has often cheered the hours of exhaustion, the mere thought of which has always been enough to overcome my natural indulgence. It is well. It is the only chance I ever had of attaining a small measure of literary distinction, and where there is so much pride and naughtiness of heart it is better to remain unknown." I think we may all easily see where the Gethsemane came in in Henry Martyn's life, and--I say it with great diffidence--I think we may see where the Gethsemane came in in John Wesley's life, tho I should not care to indicate it. But the heart knoweth its own bitterness. What we know is that the Gethsemanes in the Christian life are in the course of duty, and in obedience to God's will, as it is revealed from day to day. Go back to John Wesley's Journal. On one occasion he had the claim of a reputed saint, and he rejected it, and said--mark these words: "No blood of the martyrs is here, no scandal of the cross, no persecution of them that love God." No blood is here, no saint. When Adam Clarke was speaking in the City-Road Chapel in 1816, at the establishment of a missionary society in London, he told the people about the Moravians. And I need not tell you how great the Moravian influence was on early Methodism. He told his hearers at that time that the Moravians, when all told, only numbered six hundred members, but they had missionaries in every part of the globe to which it was then possible to send them. Dr. Clarke told them of the beginning, which was in the far-away place of St. Thomas. A negro slave escaped from St. Thomas somehow, and he came into contact with Zinzendorf, and found the way of salvation, and rejoiced in Christ. Well, this negro came to the Moravians, and he told them that among his fellow slaves in St. Thomas there were several--his own sister was one, I think--who were feeling after God. "But," he said, "nobody can go out to tell them the gospel unless they sell themselves as slaves and go out as slaves." Whereupon two brethren immediately offered themselves, and exprest their willingness to be sold as slaves, that they might preach Christ. Yes, we may be sure that no life will bring forth fruit to God if it is without its Gethsemane, with the great drops of blood in it; and I believe that just as the Savior's blood dropt in Gethsemane and the ground blest it, so the blood of the surrendered soul makes its Gethsemane a garden, if not now, then hereafter; but the time must be, whenever a martyr's blood has been shed, upon that ground the fruits of righteousness must spring. II. Bloodshed for self-perfection. I have just my other point. The second point is that there must be bloodshedding for the bloom and perfection of our own lives before they can come to their flower, to God's ideal beauty; there must be the expenditure of the natural life. Now, what is it that should follow when we have parted with our life and lived our Gethsemane; what should be the effect upon our lives? Well, what ought to follow is, that the resurrection life, which the shedding of blood has made room for, should take the place of the other. But what does follow? I think three things, often: First, it often happens that a real Gethsemane of the soul means a brief tarrying in this world. It seems as if too much life had gone, as if the spirit could not recover its energies. There are a few books which the heart of the Church has always loved. I call them Gethsemane books. They are books about Gethsemane, about the bloodshedding in the early days and what was gone through. They are chiefly the lives of David Brainerd, Henry Martyn, and McCheyne. But there are many others that I have no time to name. All of these died young, not without signs of the divine blessing, but their rich, fervent natures were prematurely exhausted and burned out. Have you read the memoir of Brainerd? John Wesley published it, slightly abridged, for his people, and I have a copy. Read it, mark its reserved passion, its austere tenderness; read the story of young Miss Edwards, who followed her betrothed so soon. You will then feel that you have done business in great waters. The pages of this book are all spotted with blood. Read Brainerd's aspirations: "Oh, that I might be a flaming fire in the service of my God! Here I am, Lord, send me; send me to the ends of the earth; send me to the rough and savage pagan, to the wilderness; send me from all that is called earthly comfort; send me even to death itself if it be but in Thy service and to promote Thy Kingdom." But sometimes the earthly life is parted with and not fully replaced by the resurrection life, and the long-drawn melancholy ensues. You really must not believe that I am speaking as an enemy of Methodism when I say I venture to think there is something of that in the life of that great saint and supreme Christian poet, Charles Wesley. I think it will be granted by his most ardent admirers that the last thirty years of his life will not compare with those of his mighty brother. They were sad years in the main, spent in comparative inaction, with many, many wearisome discontented days. Dear friends, there is no such thing as melancholy in the New Testament--nothing. And Charles Wesley's melancholy is the most attractive in the world-- Oh, when shall we sweetly move? Oh, when shall our souls be at rest? And there is this view of life: "Suffer out my threescore years till the Deliverer come; and then this soul appeals to God to explain my life of misery with all Thy love's designs in Thee." Those are awful matters--"explain my life of misery with all Thy love's designs in Thee." But, dear friends, am I right in saying that this frame is a Christian frame? When Charles Wesley was in his last years his favorite text was--and it is a text which will always go with his name--"I will bring the third part through the fire." That is, he thought that God would bring to glory one-third part of Methodists, that one-third of them would endure to the end. Compare that with "God is with us who seeth the end." Who is right? And he never sought an abundant entrance into the kingdom. What he used to say over and over again was: "Oh, that I might escape safe to land on a broken piece of the ship. This is my daily, hourly prayer, that I may escape safe to land." In his latter days he was always warning those about him that a flood was coming out over the country which would sweep much of this religion away. You know it was said on another death-bed, "Clouds drop fatness." It is always necessary that the bloom of life should come out of death. What Christ means is that as the natural life goes, as the veins are depleted, there is the resurrection life which should fill them and pour into them to strengthen. There is no book in the world, I think, like John Wesley's "Journal," because it is the book of the resurrection life, and I do not know another in all literature; the resurrection life lived in this world almost as Christ might have gone on living it if the forty years had been prolonged into fifty years. As a book it stands out solitary in all literature, clear, detached, columnar. It is a tree that is ever green before the Lord. It tells us of a heart that kept to the last its innocent pleasures, but held them so lightly, while its Christian renunciation and its passionate peace grew and grew to the end, the old wistfulness, the old calm fiery and revealed eloquence. John Wesley was indeed one of those who had attained the inward stillness, who had entered the second rest, who, to use his own fine words, was "of those who are at rest before they go hence, possessors of that rest which remaineth even here"--even here--"for the people of God." With what emotion one comes to his closing days, and follows him to that last sermon at Leatherhead, on the word: "Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near!" And watch by his triumphant death-bed and hear him say, "The clouds drop fatness." The only one I can compare him with in all the history of the Church is the apostle Elliot, the missionary to the Indians, whose life was written by Cotton Mather. You know that in that day they had a tradition that the country was safe as long as the apostle was there. Some of you will remember that Nathaniel Hawthorne, in his great book, "The Scarlet Letter," tells us of how the poor children of Arthur Dimsdale pleaded to see the apostle Elliot, for the testimony is that there was an unearthly light upon his face to the last of his long life. We read about that great apostle, fit to be named with Wesley, that he had his bitter sorrows. Two sons died before him, and Cotton Mather says they were desirable preachers of the gospel. But the old man sacrificed them. Now, note Cotton Mather's phrase, "sacrificed with such a sacred indifference." And he was so nailed to the cross and the Lord Jesus Christ that the grandeur of this world would seem to him just what it would be to a dying man, when at a great age and nearing the end he grew, with John Wesley, still more heavenly, more Saviorly, more divine and scented more and more of that spicy country at which he was ready to put ashore. His last words were, "Welcome, joy," and he died. Such a life of sacrifice is the gateway of the eternal city. 2. It is likewise necessary that the conversion of the world should come out of death. I for one believe in the ancient promise, "The knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the sea." Yes, but before the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth, the earth must be covered with the blood falling upon it from faithful souls. "Without shedding of blood there is no--." Some young men whom I love have started societies for the evangelization of the world in the present generation. I love that; let us try. But what is evangelization? To send Bibles, to deliver the message to everybody? No, not that, but the shedding of the servants' blood on every field, with the world as one great Gethsemane. We shall see over it the flowers that grew only in the garden where Christ's brow dropt blood. At this meeting, in this chapel, there will be some sweet mother who is going through her Gethsemane. She is resolving to give up a son who has heard the call: "Depart, for I will send them far hence to the heathen." One in widow's weeds was asked if she had subscribed to the missionary society. She said: "Yes, I gave my only son, and he died in the field." That is my text: "Without shedding of blood there is no--." Yes, and there is some young heart here that has a great deal to give up, a great deal at home. And he is hearing me, and he has made up his mind that he will make the sacrifice, too; that he will go forth to Christ. And what are the rest of us doing? Well, dear brethren, there is to be a collection, and we will put our hands in our pockets in the old way, half thinking what we will spend, and how we are to spend it before we go home; and select a coin and put it in. And then we shall go home and see a missionary magazine on the table, and express our regret that missionary magazines are not better edited and not more interesting. Of course, there will be something for the collector when the collector goes round. It will not be much; and perhaps, owing to the war, you know, we can not give quite so much as last year. And do you really think that the world will ever be converted in that way? Do you believe it? Have you any right to expect that it should be converted in that way? No right at all. The world will never be converted until the Church is in agony, and prays more earnestly, and sweats, as it were, great drops of blood; never, never! "Without shedding of blood there is no remission of sins." VAN DYKE THE MEANING OF MANHOOD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Henry Van Dyke was born in Germantown, Pa., in 1852. He is a graduate of Princeton Theological Seminary and of Berlin University. From 1882 to 1900 he was pastor of the Brick Presbyterian Church, New York, since which time he has been Professor of English Literature in Princeton University. As a preacher he is generally regarded as a model, and as the author of many books he enjoys the highest literary reputation. Doctor Brastow calls him "the pulpit artist of his school," and adds: "In skilful handling of the manuscript, in clearness, force, chasteness, and felicity of diction, and in a directness and cogency of moral appeal which seemingly his later literary interests have not enhanced, he stands in the front line of American preachers." VAN DYKE Born in 1852 THE MEANING OF MANHOOD[8] [8] By permission of Dr. Van Dyke and the publishers. From "The Culture of Christian Manhood." Edited by W. H. Sallmon. Copyright, 1897, by Fleming H. Revell Co. _How much, then, is a man better than a sheep!_--Matt. xii., 12. On the lips of Christ these noble words were an exclamation. He knew, as no one else has ever known, "what was in man." But to us who repeat them they often seem like a question. We are so ignorant of the deepest meaning of manhood, that we find ourselves at the point to ask in perplexity, how much, after all, is a man better than a sheep? It is evident that the answer to this question must depend upon our general view of life. There are two very common ways of looking at existence that settle our judgment of the comparative value of a man and a sheep at once and inevitably. Suppose, in the first place, that we take a materialistic view of life. Looking at the world from this standpoint, we shall see in it a great mass of matter, curiously regulated by laws which have results, but no purposes, and agitated into various modes of motion by a secret force whose origin is, and forever must be, unknown. Life, in man as in other animals, is but one form of this force. Rising through many subtle gradations, from the first tremor that passes through the gastric nerve of a jellyfish to the most delicate vibration of gray matter in the brain of a Plato or a Shakespeare, it is really the same from the beginning to the end--physical in its birth among the kindred forces of heat and electricity, physical in its death in cold ashes and dust. The only difference between man and other animals is a difference of degree. The ape takes his place in our ancestral tree, and the sheep becomes our distant cousin. It is true that we have somewhat the advantage of these poor relations. We belong to the more fortunate branch of the family, and have entered upon an inheritance considerably enlarged by the extinction of collateral branches. But, after all, it is the same inheritance, and there is nothing in humanity which is not derived from and destined to our mother earth. If, then, we accept this view of life, what answer can we give to the question, how much is a man better than a sheep? We must say: He is a little better, but not much. In some things he has the advantage. He lives longer, and has more powers of action and capacities of pleasure. He is more clever, and has succeeded in making the sheep subject to his domination. But the balance is not all on one side. The sheep has fewer pains as well as fewer pleasures, less care as well as less power. If it does not know how to make a coat, at least it succeeds in growing its own natural wool clothing, and that without taxation. Above all, the sheep is not troubled with any of those vain dreams of moral responsibility and future life which are the cause of such great and needless trouble to humanity. The flocks that fed in the pastures of Bethlehem got just as much physical happiness out of existence as the shepherd, David, who watched them, and, being natural agnostics, they were free from David's delusions in regard to religion. They could give all their attention to eating, drinking, and sleeping, which is the chief end of life. From the materialistic standpoint, a man may be a little better than a sheep, but not much. Or suppose, in the second place, that we take the commercial view of life. We shall then say that all things must be measured by their money value, and that it is neither profitable nor necessary to inquire into their real nature or their essential worth. Men and sheep are worth what they will bring in the open market, and this depends upon the supply and demand. Sheep of a very rare breed have been sold for as much as five or six thousand dollars. But men of common stock, in places where men are plenty and cheap (as, for example, in Central Africa), may be purchased for the price of a rusty musket or a piece of cotton cloth. According to this principle, we must admit that the comparative value of a man and a sheep fluctuates with the market, and that there are times when the dumb animal is much the more valuable of the two. This view, carried out to its logical conclusion, led to slavery, and put up men and sheep at auction on the same block, to be disposed of to the highest bidder. We have gotten rid of the logical conclusion. But have we gotten rid entirely of the premise on which it rested? Does not the commercial view of life still prevail in civilized society? There is a certain friend of mine who often entertains me with an account of the banquets which he has attended. On one occasion he told me that two great railroads and the major part of all the sugar and oil in the United States sat down at the same table with three gold-mines and a line of steamships. "How much is that man worth?" asks the curious inquirer. "That man," answers some walking business directory, "is worth a million dollars; and the man sitting next to him is not worth a penny." What other answer can be given by one who judges everything by a money standard? If wealth is really the measure of value, if the end of life is the production or the acquisition of riches, then humanity must take its place in the sliding scale of commodities. Its value is not fixt and certain. It depends upon accidents of trade. We must learn to look upon ourselves and our fellow men purely from a business point of view and to ask only: What can this man make? how much has that man made? how much can I get out of this man's labor? how much will that man pay for my services? Those little children that play in the squalid city streets--they are nothing to me or to the world; there are too many of them; they are worthless. Those long-fleeced, high-bred sheep that feed upon my pastures--they are among my most costly possessions; they will bring an enormous price; they are immensely valuable. How much is a man better than a sheep? What a foolish question! Sometimes the man is better; sometimes the sheep is better. It all depends upon the supply and demand. Now these two views of life, the materialistic and the commercial, always have prevailed in the world. Men have held them consciously and unconsciously. At this very day there are some who profess them, and there are many who act upon them, altho they may not be willing to acknowledge them. They have been the parents of countless errors in philosophy and sociology; they have bred innumerable and loathsome vices and shames and cruelties and oppressions in the human race. It was to shatter and destroy these falsehoods, to sweep them away from the mind and heart of humanity, that Jesus came into the world. We can not receive His gospel in any sense, we can not begin to understand its scope and purpose, unless we fully, freely, and sincerely accept His great revelation of the true meaning and value of man as man. We say this was His revelation. Undoubtedly it is true that Christ came to reveal God to man. But undoubtedly it is just as true that He came to reveal man to himself. He called Himself the Son of God, but He called Himself also the Son of man. His nature was truly divine, but His nature was no less truly human. He became man. And what is the meaning of that lowly birth, in the most helpless form of infancy, if it be not to teach us that humanity is so related to Deity that it is capable of receiving and embodying God Himself? He died for man. And what is the meaning of that sacrifice, if it be not to teach us that God counts no price too great to pay for the redemption of the human soul? This gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ contains the highest, grandest, most ennobling doctrine of humanity that ever has been proclaimed on earth. It is the only certain cure for low and debasing views of life. It is the only doctrine from which we can learn to think of ourselves and our fellow men as we ought to think. I ask you to consider for a little while the teachings of Jesus Christ in regard to what it means to be a man. Suppose, then, that we come to Him with this question: How much is a man better than a sheep? He will tell us that a man is infinitely better, because he is the child of God, because he is capable of fellowship with God, and because he is made for an immortal life. And this threefold answer will shine out for us not only in the words, but also in the deeds, and above all in the death, of the Son of God and the Son of man. 1. Think, first of all, of the meaning of manhood in the light of the truth that man is the offspring and likeness of God. This was not a new doctrine first proclaimed by Christ. It was clearly taught in the magnificent imagery of the book of Genesis. The chief design of that great picture of the beginnings is to show that a personal Creator is the source and author of all things that are made. But next to that, and of equal importance, is the design to show that man is incalculably superior to all the other works of God--that the distance between him and the lower animals is not a difference in degree, but a difference in kind. Yes, the difference is so great that we must use a new word to describe the origin of humanity, and if we speak of the stars and the earth, the trees and the flowers, the fishes, the birds, and the beasts, as "the works" of God, when man appears we must find a nobler name and say, "This is more than God's work; he is God's child." Our human consciousness confirms this testimony and answers to it. We know that there is something in us which raises us infinitely above the things that we see and hear and touch, and the creatures that appear to spend their brief life in the automatic workings of sense and instinct. These powers of reason and affection and conscience, and above all this wonderful power of free will, the faculty of swift, sovereign, voluntary choice, belong to a higher being. We say not to corruption, "Thou art my father," nor to the worm, "Thou art my mother"; but to God, "Thou art my father," and to the great Spirit, "In thee was my life born." Not only cunning casts in clay: Let science prove we are, and then What matters science unto men, At least to me? I would not stay. Let him, the wiser man who springs Hereafter, up from childhood shape His action like the greater ape; But I was born to other things. Frail as our physical existence may be, in some respects the most frail, the most defenseless among animals, we are yet conscious of something that lifts us up and makes us supreme. "Man," says Pascal, "is but a reed, the feeblest thing in nature; but he is a reed that thinks. It needs not that the universe arm itself to crush him. An exhalation, a drop of water, suffice to destroy him. But were the universe to crush him, man is yet nobler than the universe; for he knows that he dies, and the universe, even in prevailing against him, knows not its power." Now the beauty and strength of Christ's doctrine of man lie, not in the fact that He was at pains to explain and defend and justify this view of human nature, but in the fact that He assumed it with an unshaken conviction of its truth, and acted upon it always and everywhere. He spoke to man, not as the product of nature, but as the child of God. He took it for granted that we are different from plants and animals, and that we are conscious of the difference. "Consider the lilies," He says to us; "the lilies can not consider themselves: they know not what they are, nor what their life means; but you know, and you can draw the lesson of their lower beauty into your higher life. Regard the birds of the air; they are dumb and unconscious dependents upon the divine bounty, but you are conscious objects of the divine care. Are you not of more value than many sparrows?" Through all His words we feel the thrilling power of this high doctrine of humanity. He is always appealing to reason, to conscience, to the power of choice between good and evil, to the noble and godlike faculties in man. And now think for a moment of the fact that His life was voluntarily, and of set purpose, spent among the poorest and humblest of mankind. Remember that He spoke, not to philosophers and scholars, but to peasants and fishermen and the little children of the world. What did He mean by that? Surely it was to teach us that this doctrine of the meaning of manhood applies to man as man. It is not based upon considerations of wealth or learning or culture or eloquence. Those are the things of which the world takes account, and without which it refuses to pay any attention to us. A mere man, in the eyes of the world, is a nobody. But Christ comes to humanity in its poverty, in its ignorance, stript of all outward signs of power, destitute of all save that which belongs in common to mankind; to this lowly child, this very beggar-maid of human nature, comes the king, and speaks to her as a princess in disguise, and lifts her up and sets a crown upon her head. I ask you if this simple fact ought not to teach us how much a man is better than a sheep. 2. But Christ reveals to us another and a still higher element of the meaning of manhood by speaking to us as beings who are capable of holding communion with God and reflecting the divine holiness in our hearts and lives. And here also His doctrine gains clearness and force when we bring it into close connection with His conduct. I suppose that there are few of us who would not be ready to admit at once that there are some men and women who have high spiritual capacities. For them, we say, religion is a possible thing. They can attain to the knowledge of God and fellowship with Him. They can pray, and sing praises, and do holy work. It is easy for them to be good. They are born good. They are saints by nature. But for the great mass of the human race this is out of the question, absurd, impossible. They must dwell in ignorance, in wickedness, in impiety. But to all this Christ says, "No!" No, to our theory of perfection for the few. No, to our theory of hopeless degradation for the many. He takes His way straight to the outcasts of the world, the publicans and the harlots and sinners, and to them He speaks of the mercy and the love of God and the beauty of the heavenly life; not to cast them into black despair, not because it was impossible for them to be good and to find God, but because it was divinely possible. God was waiting for them, and something in them was waiting for God. They were lost. But surely they never could have been lost unless they had first of all belonged to God, and this made it possible for them to be found again. They were prodigals. But surely the prodigal is also a child, and there is a place for him in the Father's house. He may dwell among the swine, but he is not one of them. He is capable of remembering his Father's love. He is capable of answering his Father's embrace. He is capable of dwelling in his Father's house in filial love and obedience. This is the doctrine of Christ in regard to fallen and disordered and guilty human nature. It is fallen, it is disordered, it is guilty; but the capacity of reconciliation, of holiness, of love to God, still dwells in it, and may be quickened into a new life. That is God's work, but God Himself could not do it if man were not capable of it. Do you remember the story of the portrait of Dante which is painted upon the walls of Bargello, at Florence? For many years it was supposed that the picture had utterly perished. Men had heard of it, but no one living had seen it. But presently came an artist who was determined to find it again. He went into the place where tradition said that it had been painted. The room was used as a storehouse for lumber and straw. The walls were covered with dirty whitewash. He had the heaps of rubbish carried away. Patiently and carefully he removed the whitewash from the wall. Lines and colors long hidden began to appear; and at last the grave, lofty, noble face of the poet looked out again upon the world of light. "That was wonderful," you say, "that was beautiful!" Not half so wonderful as the work which Christ came to do in the heart of man--to restore the forgotten likeness of God and bring the divine image to the light. He comes to us with the knowledge that God's image is there, tho concealed; He touches us with the faith that the likeness can be restored. To have upon our hearts the impress of the divine nature, to know that there is no human being in whom that treasure is not hidden and from whose stained and dusty soul Christ can not bring out that reflection of God's face--that, indeed, is to know the meaning of manhood, and to be sure that a man is better than a sheep! 3. There is yet one more element in Christ's teaching in regard to the meaning of manhood, and that is His doctrine of immortality. This truth springs inevitably out of His teaching in regard to the origin and capacity of human nature. A being formed in the divine image, a being capable of reflecting the divine holiness, is a being so lofty that he must have also the capacity of entering into a life which is spiritual and eternal, and which leads onward to perfection. All that Christ teaches about man, all that Christ offers to do for man, opens before him a vast and boundless future. The idea of immortality runs through everything that Jesus says and does. Never for a moment does He speak to man as a creature who is bound to this present world. Never for a moment does He forget, or suffer us to forget, that our largest and most precious treasures may be laid up in the world to come. He would arouse our souls to perceive and contemplate the immense issues of life. The perils that beset us here through sin are not brief and momentary dangers, possibilities of disgrace in the eyes of men, of suffering such limited pain as our bodies can endure in the disintegrating process of disease, of dying a temporal death, which at the worst can only cause us a few hours of anguish. A man might bear these things, and take the risk of this world's shame and sickness and death, for the sake of some darling sin. But the truth that flashes on us like lightning from the word of Christ is that the consequence of sin is the peril of losing our immortality. "Fear not them which kill the body," said he, "but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell." On the other hand, the opportunities that come to us here through the grace of God are not merely opportunities of temporal peace and happiness. They are chances of securing endless and immeasurable felicity, wealth that can never be counted or lost, peace that the world can neither give nor take away. We must understand that now the kingdom of God has come near unto us. It is a time when the doors of heaven are open. We may gain an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away. We may lay hold not only on a present joy of holiness, but on an everlasting life with God. It is thus that Christ looks upon the children of men: not as herds of dumb, driven cattle, but as living souls moving onward to eternity. It is thus that He dies for men: not to deliver them from brief sorrows, but to save them from final loss and to bring them into bliss that knows no end. It is thus that He speaks to us, in solemn words before which our dreams of earthly pleasure and power and fame and wealth are dissipated like unsubstantial vapors: "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" There never was a time in which Christ's doctrine of the meaning of manhood was more needed than it is to-day. There is no truth more important and necessary for us to take into our hearts, and hold fast, and carry out in our lives. For here we stand in an age when the very throng and pressure and superfluity of human life lead us to set a low estimate upon its value. The air we breathe is heavy with materialism and commercialism. The lowest and most debasing views of human nature are freely proclaimed and unconsciously accepted. There is no escape, no safety for us, save in coming back to Christ and learning from Him that man is the child of God, made in the divine image, capable of the divine fellowship, and destined to an immortal life. I want to tell you just three of the practical reasons why we must learn this. (1) We need to learn it in order to understand the real meaning, and guilt, and danger, and hatefulness of sin. Men are telling us nowadays that there is no such thing as sin. It is a dream, a delusion. It must be left out of account. All the evils in the world are natural and inevitable. They are simply the secretions of human nature. There is no more shame or guilt connected with them than with the malaria of the swamp or the poison of the nightshade. But Christ tells us that sin is real, and that it is the enemy, the curse, the destroyer of mankind. It is not a part of man as God made him; it is a part of man as he has unmade and degraded himself. It is the marring of the divine image, the ruin of the glorious temple, the self-mutilation and suicide of the immortal soul. It is sin that casts man down into the mire. It is sin that drags him from the fellowship of God into the company of beasts. It is sin that leads him into the far country of famine, and leaves him among the swine, and makes him fain to fill his belly with the husks that the swine do eat. Therefore we must hate sin, and fear it, and abhor it, always and everywhere. When we look into our own heart and find sin there, we must humble ourselves before God and repent in sackcloth and ashes. Every sin that whispers in our heart is an echo of the world's despair and misery. Every selfish desire that lies in our soul is a seed of that which has brought forth strife, and cruelty, and murder, and horrible torture, and bloody war among the children of men. Every lustful thought that defiles our imagination is an image of that which has begotten loathsome vices and crawling shames throughout the world. My brother-men, God hates sin because it ruins man. And when we know what that means, when we feel that same poison of evil within us, we must hate sin as He does, and bow in penitence before Him, crying, "God, be merciful to me a sinner." (2) We need to learn Christ's doctrine of the meaning of manhood in order to help us to love our fellow men. This is a thing that is easy to profess, but hard, bitterly hard, to do. The faults and follies of human nature are apparent. The unlovely and contemptible and offensive qualities of many people thrust themselves sharply upon our notice and repel us. We are tempted to shrink back, wounded and disappointed, and to relapse into a life that is governed by disgusts. If we dwell in the atmosphere of a Christless world, if we read only those newspapers which chronicle the crimes and meannesses of men, or those realistic novels which deal with the secret vices and corruptions of humanity, and fill our souls with the unspoken conviction that virtue is an old-fashioned dream, and that there is no man good, no woman pure, I do not see how we can help despising and hating mankind. Who shall deliver us from this spirit of bitterness? Who shall lead us out of this heavy, fetid air of the lazar-house and the morgue? None but Christ. If we will go with Him, He will teach us not to hate our fellow men for what they are, but to love them for what they may become. He will teach us to look, not for the evil which is manifest, but for the good which is hidden. He will teach us not to despair, but to hope, even for the most degraded of mankind. And so, perchance, as we keep company with Him, we shall learn the secret of that divine charity which fills the heart with peace and joy and quiet strength. We shall learn to do good unto all men as we have opportunity, not for the sake of gratitude or reward, but because they are the children of our Father and the brethren of our Savior. We shall learn the meaning of that blest death on Calvary, and be willing to give ourselves as a sacrifice for others, knowing that he that turneth a sinner from the error of his ways shall save a soul from death and cover a multitude of sins. (3) Finally, we need to accept and believe Christ's doctrine of the meaning of manhood in order that it may lead us personally to God and a higher life. You are infinitely better and more precious than the dumb beasts. You know it, you feel it; you are conscious that you belong to another world. And yet it may be that there are times when you forget it and live as if there was no God, no soul, no future life. Your ambitions are fixt upon the wealth that corrodes, the fame that fades. Your desires are toward the pleasures that pall upon the senses. You are bartering immortal treasure for the things which perish in the using. You are ignoring and despising the high meaning of your manhood. Who shall remind you of it, who shall bring you back to yourself, who shall lift you up to the level of your true being, unless it be the Teacher who spake as never man spake, the Master who brought life and immortality to light. Come, then, to Christ, who can alone save you from the sin that defiles and destroys your manhood. Come, then, to Christ, who alone can make you good men and true, living in the power of an endless life. Come, then, to Christ, that you may have fellowship with Him and realize all it means to be a man. END OF VOL. IX. THE HOUR-GLASS STORIES THE SANDALS By REV. ZELOTES GRENELL. A beautiful little idyl of sacred story dealing with the sandals of Christ. THE COURTSHIP OF SWEET ANNE PAGE By ELLEN V. TALBOT. A brisk little love story incidental to "The Merry Wives of Windsor," full of fun and frolic, and telling of the Courtship of Sweet Anne Page by three rival lovers chosen by her father, her mother, and herself. THE TRANSFIGURATION OF MISS PHILURA By FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY. This clever story is based on the theory that every physical need and every desire of the human heart can be claimed and received from the "Encircling Good" by the true believer. THE HERR DOCTOR By ROBERT MACDONALD. A novelette of artistic literary merit, narrating the varied experiences of an American girl in her effort toward capturing a titled husband. ESARHADDON By COUNT LEO TOLSTOY. Three allegorical stories illustrating Tolstoy's theories of non-resistance, and the essential unity of all forms of life. _Small 12mo, Dainty Cloth Binding, Illustrated._ _40 cents each_ FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Pubs. NEW YORK AND LONDON THE HOUR-GLASS STORIES THE CZAR'S GIFT BY WILLIAM ORDWAY PARTRIDGE. How freedom was obtained for an exiled brother. THE EMANCIPATION OF MISS SUSANA An entrancing love story that ends in a most romantic marriage. THE OLD DARNMAN By CHARLES L. GOODELL, D.D. A character known to many a New England boy and girl, in which the "lost bride" is the occasion for a lifelong search from door to door. BALM IN GILEAD By FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY. A very touching story of a mother's grief over the loss of her child of tender years, and her search for comfort, which she finds at last in her husband's loyal Christian faith. MISERERE By MABEL WAGNALLS. The romantic story of a sweet voice that thrilled great audiences in operatic Paris, Berlin, etc. PARSIFAL By H. R. HAWEIS. An intimate study of the great operatic masterpiece. THE TROUBLE WOMAN By CLARA MORRIS. A pathetic little story full of heart interest. _Small 12mo, Dainty Cloth Binding, Illustrated. 40 cents each_ FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Pubs. NEW YORK AND LONDON "There is a world of sense and practical truth in this valuable book."--_The Brooklyn Eagle_. A Bundle of Letters To Busy Girls. By Miss Grace E. Dodge, _(Member of the New York Board of Education)._ "These Twelve Letters are all on 'Practical Matters' which enter into the life of all our 'Girls.'... All is subordinated to produce wise, practical, and much-needed instruction, in plain, common-sense, brief, and wonderfully effective words. They are indeed a model. The author, as one of the 'Girls,' puts herself on their level, and speaks in their language, and voices their feelings, wants, and trials. Nothing could be more wisely done, for the object in view. The little book can not fail to do great good to the class of girls for whom it has been prepared. Let it be circulated."--_The Christian Observer, Louisville_. "Some philanthropic person ought to see this book put into the hands of thousands of school and shop girls throughout the country. It would be a bit of philanthropy that would bear more moral fruit than often comes from the charitable endeavor."--_The Journal of Education, Boston_. "No class of girls can be more usefully employed than in reading and discussing the points suggested in this excellent book."--_Woman's Journal, Boston_. "It is one of the best and most helpful books I ever read. It is written with charming directness and simplicity."--_"Josiah Allen's Wife."_ =16mo. Cloth. Price, 30 Cents. Half Cloth, Fancy Sides, Uncut Edges, $1.00. Post-free=. =FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers New York and London= =Wives! Husbands! Sweethearts!= =Dr. Talmage= ... IN ... =The Marriage Ring= TELLS ALL ABOUT The Choice of a Wife Choice of a Husband Clandestine Marriages Duties of Husbands to Wives Duties of Wives to Husbands Boarding-house and Hotel Life _vs._ The Home Costume and Morals Plain Talk Easy Divorce Motherhood Heredity Paradisaic Women Influence of Sisters over Brothers Martyrs of the Kitchen The Old Folks' Visit. "It is a wholesome book. It will carry a benediction into thousands of domestic circles."--_Zion's Herald, Boston_. "Thoroughly Christian and commonsense."--_Free Methodist_, Chicago. "We recommend it as 'good gift' to the married and those about to marry."--_Demorest's Magazine_, New York. =Beautifully Bound--A Handsome Gift Book. Price, $1.00, Post-free=. =FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK and LONDON= * * * * * Transcriber's note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed. Missing page numbers are page numbers that were not shown in the original text. Mismatched quotes are not fixed if it's not sufficiently clear where the missing quote should be placed. Page 125: "standing on the basis of the hormonious testimony" ... The transcriber has replaced "hormonious" with "harmonious". 
22821	----	THE BLOT ON THE KAISER'S 'SCUTCHEON by NEWELL DWIGHT HILLIS * * * * * Each 12mo, cloth, net, $1.20 STUDIES OF THE GREAT WAR What Each Nation Has at Stake LECTURES AND ORATIONS BY HENRY WARD BEECHER Collected by Newell Dwight Hillis THE MESSAGE OF DAVID SWING TO HIS GENERATION Compiled, with Introductory Memorial Address by Newell Dwight Hillis ALL THE YEAR ROUND Sermons for Church and Civic Celebrations THE BATTLE OF PRINCIPLES A Study of the Heroism and Eloquence of the Anti-Slavery Conflict THE CONTAGION OF CHARACTER Studies in Culture and Success THE FORTUNE OF THE REPUBLIC Studies, National and Patriotic, upon the America of To-day and To-morrow GREAT BOOKS AS LIFE-TEACHERS Studies of Character, Real and Ideal THE INVESTMENT OF INFLUENCE A Study of Social Sympathy and Service A MAN'S VALUE TO SOCIETY Studies in Self-Culture and Character * * * * * FAITH AND CHARACTER 12mo, cloth, gilt top, net, 75 cents FORETOKENS OF IMMORTALITY 12mo, cloth, net, 60 cents HOW THE INNER LIGHT FAILED 18mo, boards, net, 25 cents RIGHT LIVING AS A FINE ART A Study of Channing's Symphony 12mo, boards, net, 35 cents THE MASTER OF THE SCIENCE OF RIGHT LIVING 12mo, boards, net, 35 cents ACROSS THE CONTINENT OF THE YEARS 16mo, old English boards, net, 25 cents THE SCHOOL IN THE HOME Net, 60 cents * * * * * THE BLOT ON THE KAISER'S 'SCUTCHEON by NEWELL DWIGHT HILLIS, D. D. Author of "German Atrocities," etc. [Decoration] New York Chicago Fleming H. Revell Company London and Edinburgh Copyright, 1918, by Fleming H. Revell Company _Uniform with this Volume_ German Atrocities By NEWELL DWIGHT HILLIS Illus., Cloth, $1.00 net _A Million and a Half Extracts from this book have been issued by the Liberty Loan Committee!_ New York: 158 Fifth Avenue Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave. London: 21 Paternoster Square Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street Contents I. THE ARCH-CRIMINAL 11 1. The Kaiser's Hatred of the United States. 2. The Kaiser's Character Revealed in His Choosing the Sultan for His friend. 3. Pershing's Charges versus the Kaiser. 4. Who Taught the Kaiser That a Treaty Is a Scrap of Paper? 5. The Plot of the Kaiser. II. THE JUDAS AMONG NATIONS 31 1. The Original Plot of the Members of the Potsdam Gang. 2. The Berlin Schemers and Their Plot. 3. German Superiority a Myth That Has Exploded. 4. German Intrigues. 5. German Burglars Loaded with Loot Are the More Easily Captured. 6. Germans Who Hide Behind the Screen. 7. Must German Men Be Exterminated? III. THE BLACK SOUL OF THE HUN 60 1. German Barbarism Not Barbarism to the German. 2. The German "Science of Lying." 3. The Malignity of the German Spies. 4. The Cancer in the Body-Politic of Germany. 5. Polygamy and the Collapse of the Family in Germany. 6. The Red-Hot Swords in Sister Julie's Eyes. 7. The Hidden Dynamite: The Hun's Destruction of Cathedrals. 8. The German Sniper Who Hid Behind the Crucifix. 9. The Ruined Studio. 10. Was This Murder Justified? IV. IN FRANCE THE IMMORTAL! 98 1. The Glory of the French Soldier's Heroism. 2. Why the Hun Cannot Defeat the Frenchman. 3. "I Am Only His Wife." 4. A Soldier's Funeral in Paris. 5. The Old Book-Lover of Louvain. 6. A Vision of Judgment in Martyred Gerbéviller. 7. The Return of the Refugees. 8. An American Knight in France. 9. An American Soldier's Grave in France. 10. "These Flowers, Sir, I Will Lay Them Upon My Son's Grave." 11. The Courage of Clemenceau. V. OUR BRITISH ALLIES 132 1. "Gott Strafe England"--"And Scotland." 2. "England Must Not Starve." 3. German-Americans Who Vilify England. 4. British vs. American Girls in Munition Factories. 5. The Wolves' Den on Vimy Ridge. 6. "Why Did You Leave Us in Hell for Two Years?" 7. "This War Will End Within Forty Years." 8. "Why Are We Outmanned By the Germans?" VI. "OVER HERE" 164 1. The Redemption of a Slacker. 2. Slackers versus Heroes. 3. German Stupidity in Avoiding the Draft. 4. "I'm Working Now for Uncle Sam." 5. The German Farmer's Debt to the United States. 6. "Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth" Is an Ungrateful Immigrant. 7. In Praise of Our Secret Service. Publisher's Explanatory Note These brief articles are sparks struck as it were from the anvil of events. They were written on trains, in hotels, in the intervals between public addresses. During the past year beginning October 1, 1917, Dr. Hillis, in addition to his work in Plymouth Church, and as President of The Plymouth Institute, has visited no less than one hundred and sixty-two cities, and made some four hundred addresses on "The National Crisis," "How Germany Lost Her Soul," "The Philosophy of the German Atrocities," and "The Pan-German Empire Plot," the substance of these lectures and addresses being given in the book, "German Atrocities," heretofore published. These articles are illustrative of and supplementary to the principles stated in that volume. While consenting to publication, the author was not afforded opportunity for full revision of this second volume, being again called over-seas just as this book was being put into type. This will account for the form in which the material appears. THE ARCH-CRIMINAL I 1. The Kaiser's Hatred of the United States It is a proverb that things done in secret soon or late are published from the housetops. Certainly everything that was hidden as to the plots of the Potsdam gang is, little by little, now being revealed. Nothing illustrates this fact better than that volume published in Leipsic in 1907, called "Reminiscences of Ten Years in the German Embassy in Washington, D. C." When that aged diplomat published the story of his diplomatic career he doubtless thought that the volume prepared for his children and grandchildren and friends was forever buried in the German language. It never even occurred to the Councillor of the Ambassador, von Holleben, that the book would ever fall into the hands of any American. The very fact that an American author found the volume in a second-hand bookstore of Vienna in 1914 and translated the three chapters on the Kaiser's representatives in the United States and the organization of the German-American League, must have roused the Foreign Department in Berlin to the highest point of anger. Children and diplomats oftentimes unconsciously betray the most important secrets. No volume ever published could possibly have revealed matters of greater moment to Germany than this volume of reminiscences that sets forth the propaganda carried on in the United States by Ambassador von Holleben and his legal councillor for the furthering of the Pan-German Empire scheme. No scholar can doubt the right of this old diplomat to speak. The Kaiser personally vouched for him by giving him this important duty. The honours bestowed at the end of his long diplomatic career tell their own story. Every page breathes sincerity and truthfulness. No one who reads this volume can doubt that this author gave the exact facts--facts well known to his German friends--in the recollections of his diplomatic career. This diplomat tells us plainly that von Holleben and himself were sent to the United States specially charged with the task of reuniting Germans who were naturalized in America with the German Empire. It was their duty to organize secret German-American societies in every great city like New York and Brooklyn, Chicago and Milwaukee, Cincinnati and St. Louis, and to present to these societies a German flag sent from the hands of the Kaiser himself. Their work, says the author, was based upon the fact that the Kaiser had passed a law restoring full citizenship in Germany to those Germans who had become naturalized citizens of the United States. When, therefore, these members of the German-American League formally accepted their restored citizenship their first duty was to the Fatherland and the Kaiser and their second duty to the United States and its Government. Indeed, this lawyer and author actually goes so far as to give extracts from von Holleben's speech before the German-American League in Chicago when he presented the society with a German flag and swore the members to the old-time allegiance. He says that in some way the editor of the Chicago _Tribune_ found out about this meeting and wrote a very severe editorial, after which, he adds, that von Holleben and himself had to be more careful. Concerning the Milwaukee meeting, he refers to a conversation which revealed his judgment that if ever there was trouble between Germany and the United States the war would partake of the nature of a civil war. The author not only gives an account of the conference held at the Waldorf-Astoria between Ambassador von Holleben, Professors Munsterberg of Harvard and Schoenfield of Columbia and himself, on the one side, and Herman Ridder on the other, but he gives the instructions from Berlin that Herr Ridder could only keep his subsidy from the German Government for the New Yorker _Staats Zeitung_ by placing his fealty to Germany first and subordinating his Americanism, and that otherwise Ambassador von Holleben would found a rival German paper that would have back of it "unlimited resources, to wit: the total resources of the German Empire." Here, then, is proof positive that the Kaiser began his efforts to establish a pro-German movement against the United States for several years before 1906 and that he methodically kept it up until the war began. Through it all he claimed to be our sincere friend; but he was then, as he is to-day, an implacable and relentless enemy, with a heart laden with hatred and bitterness. 2. The Kaiser's Character Revealed in His Choosing the Sultan for His Friend Nothing tests manhood like the choice of a bosom-friend. Criminals choose bad associates. Every Black Hand leader goes naturally towards the saloon, the gambling house and the dens where thieves congregate. Dickens made Fagin surround himself with pickpockets, burglars and murderers. History tells us that Christianity has always kept good company. Its friends have been architects, artists, poets and statesmen. Christianity repeats itself through its friends in the Gothic Cathedral shaped in the form of the cross, in the Transfiguration of Raphael, the Duomo of Giotto, the Paradise Lost of Milton, the In Memoriam of Tennyson, the Emancipation Proclamation of Lincoln. Christianity has never formed any close friendships with jails, gallows or slave ships. Men like Gladstone and Lincoln always kept good company; their friends have been scholars and heroes; but, in striking contrast, consider the friends selected by the Kaiser. To the Kaiser came a critical hour; at that moment he was at the parting of the ways. It became necessary for him to make a choice of friends. Like every man, his isolation was impossible and friendship became a necessity. The Kaiser had the whole world from which to choose. Yonder in London were King Edward and his son, the Prince of Wales. In France were certain statesmen and scientists like Curie. There was the old hero living in the capital of Japan and two ex-Presidents known the world around for their splendid manhood; and he could have made overtures of friendship to any one of these brave men; but in the silence of the night the Kaiser passed in review earth's great men, and finally selected for his close friend the lowest of the low--the butcher, unspeakable butcher--the Sultan of Turkey. At that time the Sultan had just completed the butchery of many Armenians. His garments were red with blood, his hands dripped with gore. His house was a harem; his hand held a dagger. The sea-wall behind his palace rose out of the blue waters of the Bosporus. When an American battle-ship was anchored there and a diver went down he pulled a rope and was brought up, shivering with terror, and saying that he found himself surrounded with corpses tied in sacks and held down by stones at the bottom of the sea. In that hour the Kaiser exclaimed: "Let the Sultan be my associate! I will go to Constantinople and sign a treaty with the unspeakable butcher." And so the Kaiser took his train, lived in the Sultan's palace, signed this treaty, and hired the Sultan's knife and club, just as the Chief Priest Annas chose Judas to be his representative upon whom he could load the responsibility for the murder of Jesus. Never was a friendship more damnable. Reared in a country that believed in the sanctity of the marriage relation and in monogamy, the Kaiser lined up with polygamy. The treaty that he made was thoroughgoing. He sent out word to all Mohammedans, whether they lived in India or Persia, in Arabia or Turkey, that they must remember that the Kaiser had entered into a treaty to become their protector and friend. Having become a Lutheran in Berlin, he became a Mohammedan in Constantinople on the principle that "When you are in Rome do as the Romans do, and when you are in hell act like the devil"--a simple principle which the Kaiser proceeded to obey as soon as he reached Constantinople. Every one knew that the Kaiser wanted to build a German railroad through to Bagdad and the Persian Gulf; this would give him an outlet for surplus goods to be sold in India. Serbia lay straight across the path, and he had to work out some scheme to attack Serbia. Then he needed the Sultan's friendship, and the end justified the means--and the end was the Bagdad Railroad. But the Turk tired of being the Kaiser's tool; he wanted more land; the Armenian was in his way; the Turk was lazy, shiftless and a spendthrift. The Armenian was industrious and hard-working. The Turk's method of living made him poor. The gifts of the Armenian tended towards wealth. Once in twenty years the Turk found himself a pauper and found the Armenian rich; the result was envy and covetousness on the part of the Sultan and his people. It became necessary to bribe the Turk to stand by the Kaiser and his Baghdad Railroad. The Kaiser's German officers, therefore, furnished the bribe. "Let us go to this Armenian village, or that, and kill the people. We German officers will take the large houses of the rich merchants and move into them, and your Turkish soldiers can kill the old men, use the Armenian girls for the harem, and fling the little children's bodies into pits dug in the garden behind the house. We will enter the village in the morning as soldiers; when the night comes, as Germans and Turks, we will be the only people living in the Armenian village, and we will move into their stores and take possession of their houses and their looms." "You cannot hang an entire nation," said Edmund Burke. "You must arrest the leaders and hang them." Burke was right as to the punishment of criminals, but he was wrong when it comes to murdering industrious and honest Armenians. You can murder an entire nation, for the Germans and the Turks have practically done it. Ambassador Morgenthau has just said that the Kaiser and the Sultan through their forces have murdered nearly a million Armenians. But, soon or late, remorse and conscience will take hold upon these two unspeakable butchers with hands that drip with blood--the butcher Kaiser, the butcher Sultan, that represent earth's two murderous twins. 3. Pershing's Charges versus the Kaiser Nothing measures a man so accurately as the names he gives to his favourite son. Most significant, therefore, is the fact that the Kaiser named his second son Eitel, or Attila. Who was this Attila who has captured the imagination of the Kaiser? He was a Hun who devastated Italy fifteen hundred years ago. The motto of this black-hearted murderer Attila the Hun was: "Where my feet fall, let grass not grow for a hundred years." When the Kaiser read Attila's story he exclaimed: "That is the man for me!" First, he named his favourite son for Attila the Hun. Second, in sending his German soldiers out to China, and later in 1914 to Belgium, he gave them this charge: "You will take no prisoners; you will show no mercy; you will give no quarter; you will make yourselves as terrible as the Huns under Attila." Plainly the Kaiser knew his men. He knew that they were capable of outdoing even that monster Attila the Hun. So he sent them forth to bayonet babes, violate old women, murder old men, crucify officers, violate nuns, sink _Lusitanias_, and turn solemn treaties into scraps of paper. Now over against the Kaiser's charge, black as hell, and big with death, witness Pershing's charge, reported loosely by a French boy, with his imperfect knowledge of English, translated out of the French newspapers on July 18, 1917. Pershing's brief address comes to this: "Young soldiers of America, you are here in France to help expel an invading enemy; but you are also here to lift a shield above the poor and weak; you will safeguard all property; you will lift a shield above the aged and oppressed; you will be most courteous to women, gentle and kind to little children; guard against temptation of every kind; fear God, fight bravely, defend Liberty, honour your native land. God have you in His keeping." "Pershing." The difference between yonder lowest hell in its uttermost abyss and yonder highest heaven, where standeth the throne of a just God, is not greater than the chasm that separates that unspeakable butcher, the Kaiser, from General Pershing and the American soldier boys, who have never betrayed in France, the noblest ideals of service cherished by the people of the American Republic. 4. Who Taught the Kaiser That a Treaty Is a Scrap of Paper? Each month of this war clears away some clouds and reveals Germany as wholly given over to crime and treachery. At the beginning of the invasion of Belgium, the Kaiser spoke of his treaty safeguarding the neutrality of that little land as a "scrap of paper." At the moment no one seems to have realized whence the Kaiser had that cynical expression. Now the whole damnable story has been made clear. Twenty-five years ago the Kaiser, in one of his addresses, used these words: "From my childhood I have been under the influence of five men--Alexander, Julius Cæsar, Theodoric II, Napoleon and Frederick the Great. These five men dreamed their dream of a world empire; they failed. I am dreaming my dream of a world empire, but I shall succeed." Now why did the Kaiser over and over again proclaim his allegiance to Frederick the Great? How is it that he celebrates his ancestor, Frederick? This "scrap of paper" incident makes it all quite clear. The bitter waters gushing out of the Potsdam Palace go back to a bitter spring named Frederick the Great. The poisoned fruit that ripened in 1914 hangs on a bough whose trunk was planted by Frederick in far-off days. Among many musty old German books recently published is a little book by that same Frederick. The Prussian king was writing certain notes for the guidance of his sons and successors, among whom is the present Kaiser. In his page of counsels Frederick talks very plainly about the breaking of treaties: "Consider a treaty as a scrap of paper under any one of the following emergencies: First, when necessity compels it. Second, when you lack means to continue the war. Third, when you cannot by any other means combat your ally or enemy." Then Frederick raises one question: "If the interests of your army or your people or yourself are at stake or you have to keep your word on one hand and your pledge word and treaty is on the other hand, which path will you take? Who can be stupid enough to hesitate in answering this question? In other words, treaties are to be kept when they promote your interest, and shamelessly broken when you gain thereby." The Kaiser, therefore, had from Frederick, his ancestor, this handbook on lying. In turn, the Kaiser gave this notion of the treaty as a scrap of paper to his Chancellor, Bethmann-Hollweg, who engraved, as has been said, "on eternal brass the infamy of Germany": "We are now in a state of necessity, and necessity knows no law. We were compelled to override the the just protest of Luxembourg and Belgian Governments. The wrong--I speak openly--that we are committing we will endeavour to make good as soon as our military goal has been reached. Anybody who is threatened, as we are threatened, and who is fighting for his highest possessions, can have only one thought, how he is to hack his way through." Guizot mentions "honour and fidelity to the pledged word" as one of the distinguishing elements of what is called "a civilized State." But this puts Germany among the barbarous savages. Three indictments and convictions have blackened the name of Germany throughout all the world. First, her atrocious and dishonourable methods of warfare; second, the carrying off into slavery of non-combatants, the Belgians and French, and third, the breach of the pledged word and the solemn treaties with other nations. But at last we know that Frederick the Great, the ancestor of the Kaiser, was the author of the phrase, "the treaty is a scrap of paper." What was once in the gristle in the ancestor is now bred in the bone of the Kaiser and Crown Prince. That phrase, "a scrap of paper," holds the germ of a thousand wars. It spells the ruin of civilization. Not to resent it by war, is for the Allies to commit spiritual suicide. 5. The Plot of the Kaiser All the pamphlets issued secretly to the members of the Pan-German League invariably used Rome as their illustration. We are not surprised, therefore, to find that the German leaders called attention to the fact that it took two wars at intervals of some years to make Rome a world empire. In like manner, therefore, the Kaiser and his Cabinet told the German people at home and abroad that the first war, beginning in 1914, would establish a Middle-Europe Empire extending from Hamburg on the North Sea to Bagdad on the Persian Gulf. One of the pamphlets issued many years ago fixed the countries to be conquered about 1915, and distinctly mentioned Denmark, Holland, Belgium and North France, Poland and Rumania, Hungary and Austria, Serbia and Bulgaria, and the wheat granaries of Russia, with Turkey and Armenia. The number of people to be conquered and included after the first war was fixed at 250,000,000. The argument states that it will take but a few years to compact this Middle-Europe Empire and that naturally Great Britain, Spain and Italy, to the west, with Norway and Sweden to the north, with Italy and Switzerland to the south, and of course Greece and Egypt would, from time to time, as crises came, fall inevitably into Germany's hand. Berlin, as the world capital, should by 1920 be the magnet, and the little particles of iron, named the Balkan States, would be drawn and held by this great German magnet in Berlin. The first step to be taken and the first goal to be reached concerned, of course, the English Channel, the Dutch cities on the mouth of the Rhine, and the iron mines of Northern France. We know to an absolute certainty all the details of this plan. For more than thirty years Germany had been organizing her army; she knew every road, inn, bridge, factory, shop, and wholesale store in Denmark and Holland, Belgium and France. In all of the larger ones she had German agents belonging to the Pan-German League toiling as workmen and every detail was planned out in advance. In 1910 General von Bissing, one of the Kaiser's closest friends, was sent to Brussels. For years he spent the summer months apparently at the watering places near The Hague in Holland and Ostend in Belgium, preparatory to the hour when Germany would seize Belgium and he assume his position as Governor-General, living in Brussels. Men nearing death tell the truth. In January of 1917 von Bissing prepared a memorandum for the direction of Belgian affairs in His Majesty's name and according to his wish. This document contains the meditations of a dying man. The statements he makes, he says, contain the views that inspired his every act in Belgium during his administration. In his last will and testament von Bissing, in the spring of 1917, advises the German Government in Berlin that the time has come to throw off all disguises. He says that at the beginning of the war it was probably good policy to deny that the Government ever intended to annex Belgium, but, he says, "now that we are victorious there is no reason why we should not publish to the world the fact that we never intend to give up one foot of the Belgian sea-coast, nor one ton of the Belgian coal, nor one acre of the French iron mines." He says plainly: "The annual Belgian production of 23,000,000 tons of coal has given us a monopoly on the continent which has helped to maintain our vitality. If we do not hold Belgium, administer Belgium in future for our interest and protect Belgium by force of arms, our trade and industry will lose the positions they have won in Belgium and perhaps will never recover them." And what about Dutch cities and seaports? On page eighteen of General von Bissing's last will and testament he adds: "Our frontier, in the interest of our sea power, must be pushed forward to the sea." This sentence makes it perfectly plain that a little later Germany intends to incorporate Rotterdam in her own customs union. "Belgium must be seized and held, as it now is, and as it is to-day it must be in the future. The conquest of Belgium has simply been forced upon us by the necessities of German expansion." Von Bissing, however, recognizes the difficulty of annexing Belgium and securing the consent of the members who shall arrange the treaty of peace at the conclusion of the war, and this is his decision: "Our best method, therefore, is to avoid, during the peace negotiations, all discussion about the form of the annexation and to apply nothing but the right of conquest. Plainly Belgium's King can never consent to abandon his sovereignty, but we can read in Machiavelli that he who desires to take possession of a country will be compelled to remove the King or regent, even by killing him." Von Bissing has torn off all masks. He himself states that he is speaking for the Kaiser, as his most trusted friend and counsellor. Germany intends, therefore, ultimately to kill King Albert of Belgium, and this carries with it that the Kaiser and his War Staff believe they have the right to kill any King or President who happens to stand in the pathway of their ambition. Every lover of mankind whose heart is knitted in with the poor and the weak will understand what that editor meant the other day when he said: "The one duty of the hour, therefore, for America, is to kill Germans, that we may keep the rest of the world from being killed." THE JUDAS AMONG NATIONS II 1. The Original Plot of the Members of the Potsdam Gang Many historic meetings, big with social disaster, are recorded in history. Witness the meeting of the Athenian judges for the killing of Socrates. Witness the coming together of the priests and Judas for the piteous tragedy of the death of Jesus. Witness that midnight meeting of the conspirators in Florence for the burning of Savonarola. Terrible also the results of that meeting in the Potsdam Palace in 1896 that culminated in the Pan-German Empire scheme. What began as a spark that day has ended in a world conflagration. In retrospect the Kaiser and his associates had many events behind them to encourage the ambition to make Berlin a world capital, Kaiser Wilhelm the world emperor and all the other nations and races subject peoples. Beginning in 1860 with thirty-five millions of people and only fifteen billions of dollars, Germany had climbed to greatness upon iron steps, heated hot by war. Never did wars yield so large a return. The war with Denmark had given Germany the Kiel Harbour, the Kiel Canal and a sea-coast for her ships. The war with Austria had given Germany the rich coal provinces of Central Europe. The war with France had given Germany the iron mines of Alsace and Lorraine. And here for the next war were Denmark and Holland, Belgium and northern France--so many jewel boxes that could be looted. To the eastward were Poland with her coal mines, Rumania with her oil fields and Russia with her wheat granaries. And once Central Europe became a Middle-Europe German Empire there was no reason why later on Germany should not extend her conquests to Russia on the east and England on the west, and then to North and South America. It was a great scheme. Never was prize so rich. Never could obstacles be so easily swept away. To make Berlin a world-capital and Kaiser Wilhelm a world-emperor only two things were needed. Plainly the first thing to be done was to organize the Pan-German Empire League and educate the leading men of Germany--the ship owners, bankers, merchants and manufacturers, editors, ministers, priests and university professors. Local branch societies were organized in all the large German towns and cities. Weekly meetings were held, papers read and reports made. Slowly people of the middle class were included in the league. Documents marked "Secret and Confidential" were distributed, setting forth the details of the scheme. Full reports were made as to what Germany could make by seizing the fields of Denmark, the cities on the mouth of the Rhine in Belgium, the coal and iron mines of France, Poland and Russia, and also the undeveloped resources of the Valley of the Euphrates. Careful statements were prepared as to the difficulties that must be surmounted, but always this lure was held out--that the poorest German who then had nothing, would when Germany was victorious become a landowner, live in a mansion and drive his own automobile. Then he would have Russians and Frenchmen to wait upon him, since the German was a superman, intended for a patrician, while all other races were pigs, intended by nature to be bondsmen and plebeians. "The rest of the world is amassing wealth, and when the fruit is ripe then we Germans will pluck it"--this was their motto. Little by little the germ of world-ambition became a fever, burning in the soul of every German at home or abroad. It took twenty years to thoroughly inculcate every individual of the German race with this feverish ambition, but when 1914 came every German had gone over to the Pan-German scheme and was ready to die for it. 2. The Berlin Schemers and Their Plot After all the Germans at home and abroad understood the Pan-German scheme of seditious intrigue in foreign countries and the vast web was spun and thrown out over all the cities and continents where the Kaiser's representatives were living, the second thing to be done was to make the plan clear by spreading it out like a great map. The method used, therefore, was pictorial. The Department of Publicity in Berlin became experts on geography. They began to issue illustrated maps so that the rudest German peasants and the German colonists living in Milwaukee or El Paso, in Rio Janeiro or Buenos Aires, in Brussels or St. Petersburg, in Melbourne or Calcutta, could easily understand the method and the goal. Out of twenty maps issued in Berlin and reproduced by Andre Cheredame, no one is more important than the one marked "The Old Roman Empire." The simplest German miner understood the map at a glance and realized its meaning for the members of the Pan-German League. Here is old Rome marked world capital. Here is Cæsar Augustus called the first world emperor. Here is Carthage with its capital looted and Roman peasants remaining after the victory to move into rich men's houses and estates of North Africa. And here also were the maps of conquered Palestine, Ephesus, Athens and Corinth. To be sure the old Romans had to become soldiers, but, later, did not each Roman soldier live in the rich gardens around Thebes, Ephesus and Corinth? Instantly the imaginations of the German peasants and workmen kindled. The Kaiser was right. What had been in Rome must be in Berlin. The Elbe must succeed the Tiber. Berlin shall be the second world-capital. Our Wilhelm shall be the second world-emperor. Germania shall be written straight across Europe from Hamburg on the North Sea to Bagdad on the Persian Gulf. Germans alone shall be allowed to carry weapons, as once only the Roman was allowed to own a spear; only Germans shall be allowed to hold title deeds to lands, even as once only Romans could hold a field or a house in fee simple. Old Rome won by becoming a military State. Did not the people of Rome go forth as soldiers and return with triumphal processions, with treasures of loot that took days to pass along the Appian Way, while the Romans stood cheering and the women and children sang and threw flowers in the path? Why should not the German army, between the reaping of the wheat in July and the threshing of the wheat in October, return from Brussels and Paris laden with treasure, while a second triumphal procession marched down Wilhelmstrasse? The German peasants kindled at this dream. Why should the German have to live always on bologna sausage, drink beer, eat sauerkraut and live in ugly houses when the people of Paris and London drank champagne, ate roast fowl, wore French laces and the finest English wools? It was a wicked shame. Surely the German was intended for something better than sauerkraut and beer! "Two weeks and we will be in Brussels. Three weeks and we will have Paris. Two months and we will loot London." This was the plan. How significant that letter, taken from the dead body of a German boy found in No Man's Land, near Compiègne. "Within three days, Liebschen, we will be in Paris. I intend to bring you a pocketful of Paris rings and jewels, with Paris gowns and laces." From the body of a German boy found near Lunéville was taken this letter saying that, with his three companions, he had picked out four French farms and left the houses standing, and that his friends and himself had picked out these farms as permanent homes. Later he added that Heinrich thought it would be much better for them to wait until they smashed England and made Canada a German colony. Then they could own, not small French farms, but vast Canadian farms with a hundred tenants working for him in the valleys around Toronto and the vineyards of Winnipeg and orchards of Hudson Bay. Most shrewd and cunning, the plotters of the Potsdam gang. They knew how to feed the fires of envy and avarice in the German people. Every few weeks they placed new material in the hands of every German at home and abroad. They reminded each poor peasant and foreign colonist that he was a superman, and that by day and by night he was to prepare for the time when he would become the head of all the people of the town or industry with which he was related. Poor Germans in foreign countries dreamed their dreams of the time when they would be appointed by the Kaiser and Foreign Minister to take charge of the village in Mexico, the mine in Chile, or when they would be the tax collector in some distant province. We know now, from letters that have been found, that the German soldiers in France carried in their pockets a description by the German historian Curtius of the triumphal procession along the Appian Way, when the Roman conquerors came home loaded with loot. These skillful German plotters printed at the bottom of Curtius's description the statement that each German soldier must look forward to a similar return from London, Paris and Brussels to march through the streets of Munich and Berlin. What a dream was this German dream! What treasures were to be brought into Berlin! What marbles and bronzes of Rodin stolen from Paris! At last Berlin was to own beautiful paintings, for the treasures of the Louvre were to be the Kaiser's. Never was there such a dream dreamed by peasants who soon were to become princes and kings and patricians. The German had exchanged the rye bread of 1913 for the "fog bank" of 1918; had given up German beer to grasp only empty, breaking bubbles. But it was a great dream while it lasted. In pursuance of his hope he sacrificed three million German boys, left dead in the fields of Flanders and France. He sent home four million German cripples. He filled the land with vast armies of widows and orphans. It could not have been otherwise. There has never been, and never will be, but one world city--Rome; and there has never been but one world-emperor--Cæsar Augustus. There is to be one universal kingdom--and that is the kingdom of God, the kingdom of love, justice, peace and good-will. The German has been pursuing a will-o'-the-wisp. A world-kingdom will come, but no Kaiser will rule over that empire of love. In that world-parliament all the races shall be represented as equals; then the earth that has long been a battle-field shall become an Eden garden, where all are patriots towards the world-kingdom, and scholars towards the intellect, and self-sufficing towards the family, and obedient towards their God. 3. German Superiority a Myth That Has Exploded Several years before the great war began a Dutch humorist wrote a play on German megalomania. He portrayed a German schoolroom in Prussia. Thirty or forty embryonic Prussians are at the desks and a Prussian schoolmaster is in the chair. "Children, what is the greatest country in the world?" All shouted vociferously, "Germany!" "What is the greatest city in the world?" "Berlin!" "Who is the greatest man in the world?" "The Kaiser!" "Should there ever be, children, a vacancy in the Trinity, who is best fitted to fill the position?" "The Crown Prince!" "Who are the chosen people of the good old German God?" "The German people!" Never was there a finer bit of sarcasm and yet the Germans were never able to understand the play. The Kaiser, the War Staff, the Cabinet, down to the last wretched creature working in the stables and the sewers, reading the play, exclaimed: "What is the man driving at? Why, of course the Germans are the greatest people in the world--we admit it!" Now, during the last few years the Germans have spent untold millions in propagating this myth of superiority, and yet the German intellect has never even had a second-rate position. Call the roll of all the tools that have redeemed men from drudgery and you will find that Germany's contributions are hopelessly inferior to the other nations. The new industrial era began with the locomotive and steamship; James Watt invented the one and Stevenson the other. The new era of physical comfort began with the loom; a Frenchman named Jacquard and an Englishman named Arkwright made men warm for their work in winter. Garments within the reach of the poor man in forest and factory, field and mine, means the cotton gin, and that gin is the gift of an American. The sewing machine changed woman's position, but the world owes that to our own Elias Howe. We owe the telegraph to an English inventor and, in part, to Morse. We owe the cable in part to Lord Kelvin and, in part, to Cyrus Field. We owe the telephone to Bell and the wireless to Marconi. Holland invented the submarine, Wright the airplane, McCormick the reaper and Edison the phonograph. An American invented the German submarine; an American invented the German torpedo; an American invented the German machine-gun; an American invented the Murphy button, the yellow fever antitoxin, the Dakin solution. An English physician discovered the circulation of the blood, Jenner gave us vaccination, Lister antiseptics, France the Pasteur serums and the Curie radio discoveries, while a Bulgarian, Dr. Metchnikoff, discovered the enemies of the blood. It was from France, England and the United States that Germany stole the typewriter, the steel building, the use of rubber, the aniline dyes, reënforced concrete bridges, air-brakes, the use of electricity. One of the most amazing volumes in the world is the "History of Tools and Machinery." We have all known for a long time that there is not one single German name among the eight great masters of painting that begins with Rembrandt and includes men like Velasquez and Giotto. We have long known that there is no German sculptor of the first class nor a German sculptor that is within ten thousand leagues of Rodin, Michael Angelo or Phidias. We have long known that Schubert and Schumann and Rubinstein and Haydn and Chopin were all Jews, and that three-fourths of the other so-called German musicians were Jews whose ancestors suffered such frightful political disabilities in Germany and were so regularly looted of all their property that they gave up their Hebrew names and took German, just as now thousands upon thousands of Germans in this country, ashamed of their names, are Americanizing their family title. The simple fact is that if a Jew will only write the creative music, like that of Beethoven, a German whose gift is detail will conduct the orchestra. The German can standardize a machine, providing an Englishman, a Frenchman or an American will first invent it. The German will gather up the remnants and scraps and odds and ends in a clothing factory--but, oh, think of an American gentleman having to wear the coat that was cut by a tailor in Berlin or Munich! Having during ten different summers looked at their garments, all one can say is that the German men and women are covered up but not clothed. For thirty years the Germans have paid their representatives to stand on the corner of the street and bawl out to every passer-by: "Great is the Kaiser! Great are we Germans! Let all people with cymbals, sackbut, shawms and psaltery cry aloud, saying 'Great is the Kaiser and all his people!'" And now suddenly the myth has burst like a bubble. The delusion is exploded. The Kaiser has found out that it is dangerous to blow too much hot air into a German bladder. Measured around the stomach in the Hofbraus in the presence of a barrel of beer, the Prussian and the Bavarian are great; but the hat band requires the least material of any made in four countries. For the time has come to confess this simple fact that for any one great tool, or art, or contribution to science created by a German there are four invented by either an American, an Englishman or a Frenchman. 4. German Intrigues The spider's web stretched out over a flower bed with a great fat spider at the centre and the threads along which the spider runs to thrust its poisoned sting into the enmeshed butterfly is nature's most accurate symbol of the vast web of espionage lying over North and South America with secret threads that vibrated to the touch of the spider at the centre named Berlin. In that web thousands of German-Americans were enmeshed. The records of our Secret Service concerning these German enemies of the American Government read like a book of assassinations or like a history of the black arts. When the whole story comes to be told it will horrify the world. The quality of the German-Americans that Berlin bribed is set forth in the reminiscences of Witte when he says that the Kaiser and the Foreign Department paid Munsterberg of Harvard University $5,000 a year salary and that Munsterberg was the most successful and efficient spy that the German system had ever developed. In the long list of German agents are to be found the names of German-American bankers who received secret decorations and medals from the German Government; of German merchants who were partners in this country of firms in the Fatherland and were bribed by a ribbon and an invitation to the Potsdam Palace; of German newspaper men who were under German pay, and, most amazing of all, among the papers seized in the office of a German Consul was found a commission appointing this Consul in an American city to the office of Governor-General of one of the greatest States of Canada as soon as Canada became a German colony. Many of the threads from Berlin ran into the various cities of Mexico. A German head office was set up under the general direction of Zimmermann in Berlin and of von Bernstorff in Washington. Certain large institutions that did business in Mexico, working in the same field, were quietly elbowed out of Mexico, and an American company, ostensibly American, but controlled by Germans, took over the business of the other firms under special arrangement with Mexico. Pledges were given Mexico that as soon as Germany had reduced Canada and the United States to the position of German colonies, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada and California should be handed back to the Mexicans. Millions were spent by the German Foreign Office as ordinary men spend dollars. The German spies, like Boy-Ed and von Papen, arranged to blow up American munition factories and held dinners waiting for a telephone message saying that the magazine had just exploded or the depot had taken fire or a scow had been sunk, after which they drank the health of the man who lighted the match. German agents burned up wheat elevators with hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of wheat; they fired warehouses, blew up bridges, wrecked munition plants, destroyed shiploads of food, dynamited the House of Parliament in Ottawa, sank the _Lusitania_ near Ireland, spread glanders among the horses in Sweden, poisoned the food in Rumania, sank the ships of Norway, plotted against the Argentine Republic. Their spies, dynamiters, secret agents, were in every capital and country because it was their purpose to make Berlin a world capital, Kaiser Wilhelm the world emperor and to Germanize the people of the whole earth. The web had as its centre the Potsdam Palace, but its black lines ran out into all the earth. 5. German Burglars Loaded With Loot Are the More Easily Captured It seems that Germany has published, for the Spaniards, a list of treasures she has won. In the long calendar the reader finds that eight States--Belgium, France, Poland, Rumania, Russia, Serbia, Armenia, Italy--have all been looted. The Germans claim they have spoiled over three hundred first class cities, several thousand secondary cities and towns; they add that they have destroyed seventy-three cathedrals and looted them of their priceless treasures of statues, paintings, stained glass, vessels of silver and gold. With brazen audacity the German pamphlet tells the Spaniards that they have seized so many hundred thousand watches, so many hundred thousand rings, so much treasure of diamonds and jewels, so many paintings from rich men's houses, and the long boast ends with the statement that they "obtained nearly five billions of loot out of western Russia and have assessed two billions more upon the farmers, villages and cities of Ukraine." But the boast is an idle and empty boast. It is true that no army of the Allies has crossed the German frontier to permanently hold a city. But let no man think that Germany has succeeded because of the richness of her loot. There is a success that is failure. There is a victory that is defeat. Macbeth killed Duncan and went to live in the palace of the dead king, but did Macbeth succeed? Was not his palace a brief halting place in his journey towards remorse, insanity and the day when Duncan's friends in turn slew Macbeth? The rich judges of Athens succeeded and Socrates failed. They went home to drink wine and feast, while Socrates went to the jail to drink a cup of poison. But who succeeded? The judges whose names are written low down and bespattered with dirt--or Socrates, whose name fills the sky and who has become the thinker for the world? What if the Kaiser does boast of his successes to-day? So boasted Nero--sending Paul to his rags, crusts and the dungeon preparatory to the headman's axe. But it is Nero that lost out, and it is Paul who reigns a crowned king. The chief priests celebrated their victory; at the close of the day, after they had succeeded in crucifying Jesus; but after nineteen centuries the murderers are unknown and almost forgotten, while that young carpenter rules over His Empire of Love. To-day the Kaiser claims to have won the victory of "a superman." In that he has carried murder, arson, lying, rapine, lust up to the _nth_ power, let us concede his claim. Not otherwise two hundred years ago the Indian, with his scalping knife, his war-whoop and his tomahawk, was "a superman" in terms of savagery. Not otherwise the Spaniards under Bloody Alva were "supermen" in terms of rack, thumbscrew and instruments of torture. But what savages once did in the little, the Kaiser and his men now do in the large. But because the Kaiser can publish a long list of wealth gained--by breaking his treaties, by murder, arson and lust--let no man think that he is successful. The two Biddle brothers looted the Bank of England, but they became outcasts upon the face of the earth, and always the dungeon yawned for them, just as the Kaiser and von Hindenburg never sleep at night without a vision of an oak tree, a long bough and a hemp rope dangling at the end, for the hemp is now twisted that will one day choke to death the murderous Kaiser and his War Staff. Let no patriot, whether he lives in Spain, Russia or the United States, forget that ours is a world ruled by men who were defeated. To-day on the thrones of the world are the heroes, like Paul and Demosthenes; the martyrs who were burned with Savonarola in Florence or poisoned with Socrates in Athens. To-day, the soldiers of Marathon and Marston Moor, Gettysburg and the Marne now rule the world. The treasure of the burglar and the brigand dissolves like snowflakes in a river. Long ago the Hebrew poet said: "I have seen the wicked flourish like a green bay tree, and then I lifted up my eyes, and, behold! he was not." And when a little time has passed all lovers of liberty and humanity will exclaim: "During four years I have seen the Kaiser and von Hindenburg flourish as the green bay tree, and I lifted up mine eyes, and, behold! they were not. For the breath of His nostrils had slain them." 6. Germans Who Hide Behind the Screen Two thousand years are a long time in terms of history. Many damnable tools have been invented during these twenty centuries. The rack, the thumbscrew, the tomahawk, the fagot belong among these devilish instruments. Cruelties so terrible have been devised that old scholars often felt unwilling to believe that men were so low in the scale as to have been the authors of these methods of fiendishness. In the hope, therefore, of keeping respect for man many scholars transferred all responsibility unto devils. They called in Satan and made him to be the father of hate and cruelty. They could not believe that Nero, Judas or Torquemada could conceive such wickedness. They therefore made the devil with his cloven feet and his long tail to whisper these cunning suggestions in the ear of the traitor. Thus the responsibility for unwonted cruelty was divided between the murderer and the devil who counselled the black crime. Perhaps the most damnable thing that was ever suggested by the devil in two thousand years is this little object called the German soldier's token. Never did an object so small send forth cruelties so large and manifold. The little disc is stamped out on thick paper for German privates and upon aluminum for the officers. At the top of this cardboard is the portrait of that awful being called by the Kaiser "our good old German God." Look at his white hair, the long beard and the great sword in the right hand, with the suggestion that since God uses the sword the German soldier must cut men to pieces also. Beneath you see flames gushing up, suggesting to the German soldier that he is quite right in burning the houses of France and Belgium after he has looted them, and for flinging the dead bodies into the blazing rafters. Now read the words written beneath the face of the being the Germans call God. "Strike them all dead. The Day of Judgment shall ask you no questions." Strike dead old men and women! Dash the children's brains out against the stone wall! Violate young girls! Mutilate their fair bodies so that they will be unseemly when they are found by the husband or father. Burn, steal, kill--but remember that your Kaiser and the War Staff have promised to stand between you and God Almighty and the Day of Judgment! Even if Jesus did say, "Woe unto them that offend against my little ones," you must remember that your Kaiser and officers have promised you immunity on the Day of Judgment. That is what is meant by the sentence on page thirty-one in the German handbook of "War on Land": "That which is permissible to the German soldier is anything whatsoever that will help him gain his goal quickly." Nothing better illustrates the total collapse of manhood in the Germans than this soldier's token. A coward by nature, the German is afraid to kill and steal, and so he invented a screen behind which he could hide and named it "the soldier's token." Going into a French village the Germans collect the women and children, order them to march in advance, shoot a few to terrorize the rest, and then, hiding behind this living screen, the Germans march forward. In this way they protect themselves. The whole history of the human race contains no chapter of atrocity like the atrocity of the Germans. The history of the world contains no story of cowardice so black and damnable as the cowardice of the Germans. Out of cowardice the soldier's token was born. And so the Kaiser and the War Staff invented this round piece of cardboard, with the representation of God as going forth with His sword to kill men and with His flames to burn them and with the motto: "Strike them all dead, for the Day of Judgment will ask you no questions." Therefore among the instruments of cruelty, called the rack, the fagot, the thumbscrew and the tomahawk, let us give the first place to the German soldier's token, the most damnable weapon that has come out of hell during the last two thousand years. 7. Must German Men Be Exterminated? A singular revulsion of sentiment as to what must be done with the German army after the war, is now sweeping over the civilized world. Men who once were pacifists, men of chivalry and kindness, men whose life has been devoted to philanthropy and reform, scholars and statesmen, whose very atmosphere is compassion and magnanimity towards the poor and weak, are now uttering sentiments that four years ago would have been astounding beyond compare. These men feel that there is no longer any room in the world for the German. Society has organized itself against the rattlesnake and the yellow fever. Shepherds have entered into a conspiracy to exterminate the wolves. The Boards of Health are planning to wipe out typhoid, cholera and the Black Plague. Not otherwise, lovers of their fellow man have finally become perfectly hopeless with reference to the German people. They have no more relations to the civilization of 1918 than an orang-outang, a gorilla, a Judas, a hyena, a thumbscrew, a scalping knife in the hands of a savage. These brutes must be cast out of society. Some of us, hoping against hope, after the reluctant confession of the truth of the German atrocities, have appealed to education. We knew that Tacitus said, nearly two thousand years ago, that "the German treats women with cruelty, tortures his enemies, and associates kindness with weakness." But nineteen centuries of education have not changed the German one whit. The mere catalogue of the crimes committed by German officers and soldiers and set forth in more than twenty volumes of proofs destroys the last vestige of hope for their future. Think of the catalogue! Babies nailed like rats to the doors of houses! Children skewered on a bayonet midst the cheers of marching Germans--as if the child were a quail, skewered on a fork! Matrons, old men and priests slaughtered; young Italian officers with throats cut and hanging on hooks in butchers' shops; the bombing of Red Cross hospitals and nurses and the white flag; everything achieved by civilized man defiled and destroyed--reverence for childhood and age, the sanctity of womanhood, the standards of honour, fidelity to treaties and all destroyed, not in a mood of drunkenness or a fit of rage, but on a deliberate, cold, calculated policy of German frightfulness. The sense of hopelessness as to civilizing the German and keeping him as an element in the new society grew out of the breakdown of education and science in changing the German of the time of Tacitus. Plainly the time has come to make full confession of the fact that education can change the size but not the sort. The German in the time of Tacitus was ignorant when he took the children of his enemy and dashed their brains out against the wall; the German of 1914 and 1918 still butchers children, the only difference being that the butchery is now more efficient and better calculated, through scientific cruelty, to stir horror and spread frightfulness. The leopard has not changed its spots. The rattlesnake is larger and has more poison in the sac; the German wolf has increased in size, and where once he tore the throat of two sheep, now he can rend ten lambs in half the time. In utter despair, therefore, statesmen, generals, diplomats, editors are now talking about the duty of simply exterminating the German people. There will shortly be held a meeting of surgeons in this country. A copy of the preliminary call lies before me. The plan to be discussed is based upon the Indiana State law. That law authorizes a State Board of Surgeons to use upon the person of confirmed criminals and hopeless idiots the new painless method of sterilizing the men. These surgeons are preparing to advocate the calling of a world conference to consider the sterilization of the ten million German soldiers, and the segregation of their women, that when this generation of German goes, civilized cities, states and races may be rid of this awful cancer that must be cut clean out of the body of society. THE BLACK SOUL OF THE HUN III 1. German Barbarism Not Barbarism to the German Strictly speaking, the only man who thoroughly understands the cruelty of the Germans is the German himself. No American or Englishman, no Belgian or Frenchman has the gift of telepathy that enables him to know what is going on in the German mind that guides the German's hand in committing his horrible atrocities. Now and then, in a moment when he is off guard, an occasional German reveals the explanation, and we look in, just as John Bunyan's pilgrim saw the door into Hades opened by a little crack, through which he looked upon the flames. Not otherwise was it with that German in Baltimore, who recently exposed the German mind, and from the German view-point explained the Germans in their hour of brutality. During a most intimate and personal conversation with a banker, this German, the other day, explained his people's atrocities by saying that what is barbarism and atrocities to England, France or the United States is not barbarism at all to the Germans. In proof of this astounding statement the German gave this personal incident of his boyhood. He said that in his gymnasium there was another boy who had something that he wanted. When the opportunity came, being the stronger, he jumped upon the other boy, beat him up terribly and made him a cripple for life. On reaching his home he showed his parents what he had stolen, and he was patted on the back, praised for his might with his fists, and told that that was the method he was to follow in after life. He insisted that this sort of thing was drilled into every German boy, and for that reason it never once even occurred to him that he had done wrong. "After I became a man I settled in America, and as I came to understand the spirit of American civilization it grew upon me that I had committed a crime, and now for twenty-two years, as some atonement for my sin, I have been supporting that crippled man and his widowed mother." The modern banker has become a sort of confessor, and to the banker many sins are revealed as once to the priest. Nothing is more significant than this German confession and his philosophy of the German atrocity. In his own written letter concerning that crime of his boyhood this German adds: "Had I remained in Germany no one would ever have thought of suggesting to me that I had done wrong, and it would never have entered into my head that I was under any obligation to the man I had maimed. In the light of American civilization I understand the difference, and I am seeking to atone for my sin, but all Germans have been taught, as I was taught. The Germans, therefore, in their campaign of frightfulness, are committing deeds which from the view-point of American civilization are barbarous, but from the view-point of Germans are not crimes at all." The significance of this frank confession of a German, his story of how America had redeemed his soul out of the spirit of force and cruelty into the spirit of kindness, humanity and justice, reveals more of the real nature of the German beast and the Potsdam gang than a thousand volumes on the philosophy of German atrocities. The simple fact is that the crimes of the Germans are abominable atrocities to us, but that intellectually and morally the German officer and soldier simply do not know what we mean by our horror and the wave of moral indignation that has swept over the earth. Jesse Pomeroy used to pull canary birds apart, and tortured children to death. But the boy was deficient in the nerve of humanity. He simply stared with blank eyes when the judge and the jury condemned him. He was incapable of knowing what the excitement over the dead body was about. On the side of compassion and humanity the German is, as it were, colour blind, is without musical sense, and the nerves of kindness and humanity are atrophied. The ordinary German prisoner when shown the bodies left behind after the flight of the German army simply looks blankly at the mutilated corpse and exclaims: "Well, what of it? Why not? Why shouldn't we?" and shrugs his shoulders, taking it as a matter of course. That is another reason why a great number of American business men, bankers, merchants, manufacturers, scholars, statesmen, have reluctantly been forced to the conviction that the ten millions of German soldiers should be painlessly sterilized, that the German people (saving only the remnant who accept Jesus' idea of compassion and kindness towards God's poor and weak) should be allowed to die out of the world. Re-read, therefore, what this German has said about the teaching of his German parents and the German people in praise of cruelty, and how for twenty years now, redeemed by life in the United States, he has tried to make atonement by supporting the man whom he had crippled, and also his mother. Who shall explain to us the reason why German barbarism is not barbarism to the Germans? Why, this German shall explain it, through his personal experience as a criminal. But the day will come when the Potsdam gang and ten million German soldiers will stand before the judgment seat of God. And what shall be the verdict then pronounced? You will find it in the New Testament: "'Out of thine own mouth will I judge thee,' thou wicked and cruel German!" 2. The German "Science of Lying" For the first time in history a nation has organized lying into a science and taught deceit as an art. At the very time when the diplomats of the world have refused any form of secrecy and insist upon publishing all international treaties and doing everything in the open, Germany has organized lying into a national science. Even Maximilian Harden, editor of _Zukunft_, openly acknowledges this in one of his editorials reproduced in the papers of Denmark and Holland. Harden comes right out in the open. He tells the German people that at the beginning of the war it was necessary to say to the world that Germany was fighting a defensive war, that her back was against the wall, that those wicked enemies named England and France, Russia and Belgium were leaping upon her like wolves. Of course, says Harden, at first that was good diplomacy, but now that we are successful, "Why say this any longer? Let the Kaiser and his Chancellor tell the world plainly that we decided upon this war twenty-five years ago; that during all of these years we were preparing cannons and shells; that we drilled ten million men against 'Der Tag'; that we wanted this war, that we planned this war, that we forced this war and that we are proud of it." With one stroke Harden has torn off the mask. He exhibits the Kaiser as the prince of liars. If his words mean anything, they mean that what has long been surmised is absolutely true, namely, that Germany wished some one would kill the Austrian Prince and Princess so as to start the war, for which Berlin had prepared everything, down to the last buckle on the harness of the horses. General von Bissing is not less open. Dying men are not apt to tell lies. When he saw that the end was coming the Governor-General of Belgium prepared what he called his "last will and testament." As a close and intimate friend of the Kaiser, he left a letter with his will asking the German Government carefully to consider his wishes. He says plainly that all of the statements that Berlin never intended to annex Belgium were pure camouflage. He urges the Berlin office to flatly declare its purpose never to give up a foot of the Belgian coast nor an acre of the conquered territory of north France and Belgium. "It is of no consequence," he says, "that we have given a solemn pledge not to annex Belgium. Why not tell the world that we will have failed in the one thing for which we set out if we evacuate Belgium? We need Belgium's coast line for our shipping." He adds that Germany has used twenty-three million tons of Belgian coal and has taken as much more iron ore out of France's basin in Briey. "We cannot live and compete with France and England if we give up the coal and iron mines that we have conquered and the harbours that we have won." Having affirmed, therefore, that the German Government lied at the beginning in claiming that they entered Belgium fighting a defensive warfare, General von Bissing cast about for some one behind whom he can hide as a screen and who can be used as an authority for lying. He finds his guide and leader in "The Prince," written by Machiavelli. That book has often been called the treatise on the art of lying. Never was such cunning exhibited. Never was the father of lies invoked with such skill as by the German leaders. In their sight truth is contemptible, kindness is weakness, honour is a figment. But the individual, the city, or the empire that builds its life on lies builds its house on sand. Soon the rains will descend and the floods come, the winds will blow, and the house will fall, and great will be the fall of it. The German is like a thirsty man who tries to quench his thirst by drinking scalding water. He is like a hungry man who tries to satisfy his appetite by eating red-hot coals. 3. The Malignity of the German Spies Disturbed by many events in their city, the Secret Service men guard very carefully the speakers for the Liberty Loan, the Red Cross or the Y. M. C. A. hut work. Fearing lest some German agent might injure the good name of their town, the Secret Service men of a certain community recently told the following incident, merely as a warning to all public speakers who might, by their words, arouse the enmity of half-balanced German fanatics. Because it was intended to put us all upon our guard, and because no interest could possibly be injured, but many persons be benefited, the incident is here set forth in detail. The speaker was a young lawyer, of position, influence and fine education, who was serving his country during the period of the war. "One morning I received my assignment through a sealed envelope. Experience told me that I was to take up the work of some other Secret Service man and complete the task. Of course, one Secret Service man does not know who else is in the service. Since the war began we go by numbers, rather than by our names. When I opened my envelope I found these directions: 'Go to No. ---- ----. Wait until there is no customer in the tobacco store. Then put down on the counter two ten-cent pieces, and say to the woman, "I want that package of green leaf tobacco." When you have left the store, open the package, and you will find full directions therein.' I followed the instructions strictly, and out on the street I opened the package, and found a large key and a small one, with these words written: 'Go to No. so-and-so (mentioning a third-class little apartment house in one of the worst districts in the city). The large key will open room No. 14. The small key will open a little writing table in the room. In the drawer of that table you will find full directions.' "I soon found the apartment house, climbed to the second floor, found my large key turning in the lock, and the small key opened the drawer in the desk. In that drawer I found these words: 'The man we want is in the adjoining room. He will come in about seven o'clock, but he may not come until eleven or twelve. It is important that we have his testimony. Don't wound him seriously or kill him. You will find a hole bored through the door between your room and his. That hole is filled with putty, but underneath the putty is wax. Warm the wire in the drawer in the gas jet and melt the wax.' "I waited until eleven o'clock for the man to come in. For a while he sat on the bed, with his back towards me. He was reading. Finally he lifted his pillow to shake it up, and I caught sight of a big revolver under the pillow. For several reasons I decided to do nothing until he had fallen asleep. I kept my ear glued to that little hole for one hour after he turned out his light. When he was sleeping soundly I went into the hall, with my skeleton key turned the lock in the door, and then with my lantern in the left hand and my revolver in the right made one bound into the room, struck my light and my revolver into his face under the light and shouted: 'Hands up!' Within three minutes I had him handcuffed and within ten had him bound. In that room, when the police came at my call, we found enough chemicals and powerful explosives to have blown up the entire block. In his satchel were found incriminating letters, secret documents, and, with their help, we soon landed the entire crowd. All have now been taken care of. Their flames were stamped out before they were kindled." That one incident was only one of a series of closely-related dramatic events. Outwardly, life in that city is very safe, simple and straightforward, but as to the forces of evil, the anarchists, the I. W. W.'s and German plotters the patriot can only say that but for the Secret Service and the police and the Department of Justice, society could not go on for one single month. 4. The Cancer in the Body-Politic of Germany To-day, physicians and surgeons count the cancer man's deadliest enemy. Every year this baffling disease takes large and larger toll of human life. From time to time experts come together to plan its limitation, but meanwhile the terrible disease increases. Addressing a company of experts recently, a great physician exclaimed: "Even if we can stop its growth by radium, it still remains for us to get rid of the growth itself. There seems to be no way to lift the evil cells out save through the knife, after which nature must heal the wound. Science knows no other way." Plainly, no magic can be invoked. No miracle assists the surgeon. His one recourse is to the knife, and after that the healing forces of nature. Let us confess that the knife has a large place in the extermination of social diseases. Militarism is a cancer on the German body-politic, just as slavery was once a cancer fastened on the fair body of the great South. That disease had fastened itself upon the South many years before the Civil War. Like a cancer, it spread its roots throughout the whole social and economic structure of the Southern States. It poisoned trade. Its virus was in the body of law. It destroyed kindness and sympathy for the weak. Slavery debased the poor white working-man. It made the white fathers of mulatto children so cruel that they sold their own flesh and blood. Overseers became brutes. Slave drivers stood up and bid upon their own children in the auction markets. Slowly the disease spread. Men became alarmed. They tried everything excepting the knife held in the hand of war surgeons. Clay recognized the cancer in the body politic. He proposed compromise as a poultice. Garrison and Phillips proposed the amputation of the diseased limb. John Brown tried to put sulphuric acid upon the sore spots and eat it out through the flames of insurrection. Lincoln knew that it was a case of life or death. The Republic could not endure half slave and half free. All measures failed. Finally the god of war went forth and lifted a knife heated red hot and cut the foul cancer out of the body and saved the fair South. When many years had passed nature healed the wound and saved the life of the Republic. Germany, Austria and Turkey to-day are patients in a world hospital. It is plain that they are stricken with death. The foul cancer of militarism has fastened itself upon Germany. The cancer of autocracy is eating into the vitals of Austria. The cancer of polygamy is enmeshed in the life of Turkey. Of late the disease has been spreading. Now these surgeons, named Foch, Haig and Pershing, have been anointed by the ointment of war black and sulphurous, and, lifting their scalpel, these men have been ordained to cut out the foul growth from the body-politic of Germany. Perchance there is still enough vital force left therein to heal the wound after the disease has been removed. Meanwhile, the sick man of Turkey struggles. The patient hates the knife. The diseased body will not have the only instrument that holds possible cure, and yet, despite all his struggle, the disease must come out. Slowly the surgical process goes on. One root at Verdun was cut, and now another is being sundered in the West. Much blood flows, but the blood is black and foul. Every cell in the German body-politic seems to be diseased. Medicines must be found. The stimulants of sound ethics and morals must be invoked--after that it is a question of the recuperative forces of intellect and conscience in the German people. These forces alone can heal the wound left after the foul cancer has been cut away. To-day, men with a large mind, blessed with magnanimity, kindness and good-will must stay their hearts upon history, that shows us that in the past in our own country slavery was a cancer cut out by the surgeons of war, and that after a long time the great South recovered its health, its beauty and its usefulness. 5. Polygamy and the Collapse of the Family in Germany The unexpected influences of this war upon Germany herself is a striking consideration. Few men anticipated the far-off results of the Kaiser's alliance with the Sultan and his polygamous philosophy. During the past two years the German newspapers, magazines and debates in the Reichstag have been filled with startling suggestions concerning the family. The _Berliner Lokalanzeiger_, on March 7, 1916, published a statement urging that "every girl should be given the right on reaching twenty-five years to have one child born out of wedlock, for which she should receive from the state an annual allowance." Dr. Krohne, in his address before the House, says: "The decline of the birth rate in Germany has proceeded three times as fast as in the preceding twenty-five years. No civilized nation has hitherto experienced so large a decline in so short a time. Our annual number of births falls already to-day by 560,000 below what we had a right to expect. We should have to-day 2,500,000 more inhabitants than we have." Commenting thereupon, the _Berliner Lokalanzeiger_ demands that "illegitimate children should be put socially and morally on a level with the legitimate." When, therefore, the Kaiser cast about for an alliance with some man who could be his bosom friend and could love what he loves, the Kaiser chose the Sultan with his polygamy and the Moslem teaching with its harem. No British or French officer, therefore, was surprised when documents like the following began to be found on the dead bodies of young German officers. This document is a verbatim and absolutely accurate copy of one of the many now deposited in the various departments of Justice and the War Departments in Havre and Paris: "Soldiers, a danger assails the Fatherland by reason of its dwindling birth rate. The cradles of Germany are empty to-day; it is your duty to see that they are filled. You bachelors, when your leave comes, marry at once the girl of your choice. Make her your wife without delay. The Fatherland needs healthy children. You married men and your wives should put jealousy from your minds and consider whether you have not also a duty to the Fatherland. You should consider whether you may not honourably contract an alliance with one of the million of bachelor women. See if your wife will not sanction the relation. Remember, all of you, the empty cradles of Germany must be filled. "Your name has been given us as a capable man, and you are herewith requested to take on this office of honour, and to do your duty in a proper German way. It must here be pointed out that your wife or fiancée will not be able to claim a divorce. It is, in fact, hoped that the women will bear this discomfort heroically for the sake of the war. You will be given the district of ----. Should you not feel capable of carrying on the task allotted to you, you will be given three days on which to name some one in your place. On the other hand, if you are prepared to take on a second district as well you will become 'drekoffizier' and receive a pension. An exhibition of photographs of women and maidens in the district allotted to you is to be seen at the office of ----. You are requested to bring this letter with you." This is an amazing document. Plainly the German family has broken down. But no household can be built on free love in 1918, just as no stone building can be erected on hay, stubble or sand. The German family has gone, and German society is tottering towards its final ruin. 6. The Red-Hot Swords in Sister Julie's Eyes The history of heroism holds nothing finer than the story of Sister Julie, decorated by the French Government with the Cross of the Legion of Honour. She lived in the little village of Gerbéviller, now called "Gerbéviller the Martyred." On August 27th the French army broke the line of the German Crown Prince and compelled the Huns' retreat. General Clauss was ordered to go northeast and dig in on the top of the ridge some twelve miles north of Gerbéviller. The Germans reached the village at nine o'clock in the morning, and by half-past twelve they had looted all the houses and were ready to burn the doomed city. The incendiary wagons were filled with the firebrands stamped 1912. Beginning at the southern end of the village, the German officers and soldiers looted every house, shop, store and public building, and then set fire to the town. At last they came to the extreme northern end, where a few houses and the little hospital over which Sister Julie had charge, were still standing. About noon a German colonel with the blazing firebrand in his right hand stood in front of Sister Julie's house. It has been said that there are flaming swords in the eyes of every good woman. In that terrible hour the face of Sister Julie proved the proverb. She told the German officer that these few houses that were left were filled with wounded French soldiers, with here and there a wounded German. The Hun answered that his men would remove the Germans who were wounded, but that the buildings must be fired. Behind him were several hundred buildings blazing like one fiery furnace. Sister Julie stood squarely across the path of the Hun. "While I live you shall not enter. You shall not kill these dying men. I swear it by this crucifix! Your hands are already red with blood. God dwells within this house. Look at this figure of Jesus, who said, 'Woe unto him that offends against one of my little ones. These shall go away into everlasting hell.' I myself will bear witness against you. You have murdered our fifteen old men. All their lives long these old men did us good and not evil. Look at the little girls you have slain. God Himself will strike you dead." General Clauss stood dumb. He was embarrassed beyond all words. Fear also got hold upon him. He turned and disappeared into a group of his soldiers. Two or three minutes passed by. A German colonel came to Sister Julie. He told her that the houses used for wounded soldiers would be spared by General Clauss provided Sister Julie would agree to continue her ministrations to the wounded Germans lying in her hospital. As General Clauss already knew that this had already been done, and would be, the Germans marched away, leaving the hospital buildings uninjured. It was a victory of the soul of a noble woman. One morning last summer Sister Julie showed her decorations. Her face was kind, gentle and motherly. Her atmosphere was peace and serenity. She seemed a tower of strength. It must have been easy for dying French boys in those rooms to have identified Sister Julie with Mary the Mother, who saw her son dying on the cross. Later on we met an aged woman of martyred Gerbéviller. She had been nursing in the hospital and had stood behind Sister Julie when she forbade General Clauss to light the firebrands. "What did Sister Julie say?" we asked the old woman. "Oh, sir, I do not know, and yet I do know. She told them that she would ask God to strike them dead. In that moment I was afraid of her. She seemed to me more to be feared than General Clauss and all his wicked army. I can tell you what our good priest says about Sister Julie." "And what is that?" The old woman could not quote the verse accurately, but from what she said we were soon guided to a chapter in the old Bible, and there was the verse that described Sister Julie, with arms uplifted at the door of her hospital and denying access to General Clauss. The verse was this: "And lo! an angel with a flaming sword stood at the gate and kept the garden." 7. The Hidden Dynamite; the Hun's Destruction of Cathedrals In one group of ruined cellars that was once a splendid French city, there is a beautiful building standing. It is rich with the art and architecture of the sixteenth century. The lines are most graceful and the structure is the fulfillment of Keats' line: "A thing of beauty is a joy forever." Such a building belongs not to the French nation, but to the whole human race. An architect like the man who planned this noble building is born only once in a thousand years. Every visitor to that ruined town asks himself this question: "Why did the Germans allow this building to remain?" An incident of the story of Bapaume throws a flood of light upon the problem. One year ago, when the Germans were retreating from Bapaume, they looted every house, burned or dynamited every building save the Hôtel de Ville. That city hall the Germans left standing in all its majesty and beauty. In front of the building they placed a placard containing in substance the statement that they left this building as a monument to Germany's love of art and architecture. Secretly, however, in the cellar of this noble building the Germans buried several tons of dynamite. To this dynamite they attached a seven-day clock. They set the seven-day clock to explode at eleven o'clock one week after the Germans had retreated. These beasts worked out the theory that the largest possible number of British and French officers and public men would be inspecting the building at that hour of the day. The plot was successful. Their devilish cunning was rewarded and their hate glutted. The clock struck the detonator, the dynamite exploded, blew the building and the visitors into atoms. Standing in the ruined public square, one sees nothing but that great shell pit where the earth opened up its mouth and swallowed a monument builded to beauty and grandeur. This other building, therefore, that stands in the city fifty miles to the south of Bapaume is there for the sole reason that the seven-day clock failed to explode the dynamite--not because of any love of architecture that possessed the Germans. It is there to tell us that some part of the mechanism of death failed to connect. In analyzing the German mind nothing is more certain than the fact that they lack a fine sense of humour and are often quite devoid of imagination. As for sculpture, nothing can be more hideous than the statues of the fifteen Prussian kings that do not decorate, but simply vulgarize, the avenue leading towards Magdeburg. The vast broad statue of Hindenburg, to which the Germans come to drive nails and scratch their names in lead pencils, reminds one of the occasional public buildings in this country defaced by thoughtless and vulgar boys. Nor is there anything in the world as ugly as the German sculptor's statue of the present Kaiser out at Potsdam Palace, unless it be the statue of an Indian in front of a tobacco store down in Smithville, Indian Territory, though even this is doubtful. It hardly seems possible that one earth only 7,000 miles in diameter could hold two statues as ugly as that of the Kaiser! It is this singular lack of imagination and failure to understand the beautiful that explains the systematic destruction by the German army of the glorious cathedrals, the fourteenth century churches, libraries, châteaux and hôtels des villes that were the glory and beauty of France. "If we cannot have these vineyards and orchards," said the Germans, "Frenchmen shall not have them." So they turned the land into a desert. Not otherwise the German seems to feel that if he cannot build structures as beautiful as these glorious buildings in France that he will not leave one of them standing. Next to the Parthenon in Athens and St. Peter's in Rome, perhaps the world's best loved and most admired building was the Cathedral of Rheims. There Joan of Arc crowned Charles IX; there for centuries the noblest men of France had gone to receive their offices and their honours. A building that belonged to the world. What treasures of beauty for the whole human race in the thousand and more statues in the cathedral! How priceless the twelfth-century stained glass! What paintings which have come down from the masters of Italy! Whoever visited the library and the Cardinal's palace without exclaiming: "What beautiful missals! What illuminated manuscripts?" Fully conscious of the fact that they were impotent to produce such treasures the Germans, unable to get closer to the cathedral than four miles, determined to destroy them. Day after day they bombed the noble cathedral. Gone now, too, the great stone roof! Fallen the flying buttresses, ruined the chapels. Perished all the tapestries, the rugs and the laces. Water stands in puddles on the floor. The cathedral is a blackened shell. The victim of grievous ingratitude, King Lear, was turned out into the snow and hail by his wicked daughters; and the white-haired old king wandered through the blackness of the night beneath the falling hail. And, lo! the Cathedral of Rheims is a King Lear in architecture--broken, wounded, exposed to the hails of the autumn and the snow of the winter, through the coarseness and vandalism of the Germans. The German Foreign Minister put it all in one word: "Let the neutrals cease their everlasting chatter about the destruction of Rheims Cathedral. All the paintings, statues and cathedrals in the world are not so much as one straw to the Germans over against the gaining of our goal and the conquest of their land." Never was a truer word spoken. The German lacks the imagination and the gift of the love of the beautiful. He would prefer one bologna sausage factory and one brewery to the Parthenon, with St. Peter's and Rheims Cathedral thrown in. 8. The German Sniper Who Hid Behind the Crucifix For hundreds of years the French peasants have loved the crucifix. Many a beautiful woman carries a little gold cross with the figure of Jesus fastened thereto, and from time to time draws it out to press the crucifix to her lips. Even in the harvest fields and beside the road, travellers find the carved figure of the Saviour lifted up to draw poor, ignorant and sinful men to His own level. One of the most glorious pieces of carving in France was wrought in walnut by a great sculptor and lifted up on a tree in the midst of an estate, where the peasants, resting from their work, could refresh their souls by love and faith and prayer. One day last summer, during the Teuton advance, a German officer stood beneath that divine figure. Mentally he marked the place. That night when the darkness fell a company of German officers returned to that spot. One of them climbed up on the tree. He found that the carved figure of Jesus was life size. With the end of a rope a little platform was drawn up level with the foot of the crucifix. Two ropes were fastened to the outstretched arms of the Saviour. Another rope was fastened around the neck of Jesus, until the platform was made safe. Then a German sniper with his gun climbed up on the platform. He laid his rifle upon the shoulders of the Divine Figure, hiding his body behind that of Jesus. The German officer must have chuckled with satisfaction, for he knew that he had found a screen behind which a murderer might hide, and the German villain was quite right in his psychology. It was true that the French soldiers loved that beautiful figure. To them the crucifix was sacred. So beautiful were their ideals, so lofty their spirit, so pure and high their imagination, that they were incapable of conceiving that a German could use the sacred crucifix as a screen from which to send forth his murderous hail. The green boughs of that tree hid the little puff of smoke. From time to time a French soldier would fall dead with a hole through his forehead. Once a French officer threw up his hands while the blood streamed from his mouth and he pitched forward dead. At last the French soldiers understood. There was a sniper behind Christ's cross. The French could have turned their cannon against that tree, but instead they simply kept below the trench until the night fell. Then in the darkness some French boys took their lives in their hands and crawled on hands and knees across No Man's Land. Lying on their backs they cut the wires above their heads. By some strange providence they dropped safely into the German trench and crawled ten yards beyond. Then they climbed into the tree, removed that glorious crucifix with the carved figure, brought it back in safety and at daybreak turned their cannon on the tree and blew the platform to pieces. Foul Huns had made a screen of that sacred figure, but the French were not willing to injure their ideals by shooting the crucifix to pieces. To-day all the world despises the Germans. Nothing is sacred to them. Their souls are dead within them and when the soul dies, everything dies. The German's body may live on for twenty years, but you might as well pronounce the funeral address to-day, for the soul of Germany is dead. Nothing but a physical fighting machine now remains. Meanwhile, France lives. Never were her ideals so lofty and pure. That is why the world loves France. She has kept faith with her ideals. 9. The Ruined Studio I have in my possession several photographs of a ruined studio. Some twenty or thirty Germans dashed into a little French village one day, and demanded at the point of their automatic pistols the surrender by the women of their rings, jewelry, money and their varied treasure. At the edge of the village was a simple little summer-house, in which one of the French artists had his studio. He had been in that valley for three months, sketching, and working very hard. Knowing that they had but a little time in which to do their work as vandals, the Huns started to ruin the studio. With big knives they cut the fine canvases into ruins. They knocked down the marbles, and the bronzes; the little bust from the hand of Rodin was smashed with a hammer. The bronze brought from Rome was pounded until the face was ruined. One blow of the hammer smashed the Chinese pottery, another broke the plates and the porcelain into fragments. Then every corner of the room was defiled, and the pigs fled from their filthy stye. Across one of the canvases the German officer wrote the words, "This is my trademark." And every other part of the canvas was cut to ribbons with his knife. No more convincing evidence of the real German character can possibly be found than these photographs of the interior of that ruined studio. Here we have the reason why the Kaiser himself, who knew the German through and through, called his people Huns. Long ago the first Huns entered Italy. They found a city of marble, ivory, and silver. They left it a heap and a ruin. They had no understanding of a palace; they did not know what a picture meant, or a marble; they were irritated by the superiority of the Roman. What they could not understand they determined to destroy. That is one of the reasons why all the marbles and bronzes that we have in Italy are marred and injured. The head of Jupiter is cracked; the Venus di Milo has no arms; Aphrodite has been repaired with plaster; Apollo has lost a part of his neck and one leg. From time to time an old marble is dug up in a field, where some ploughman has chanced upon the treasure. Owners hid their beautiful statues, ivories and bronzes, to save them from the vandals. Unfortunately, the modern Huns rushed into the French towns, riding in automobiles, and sculptors and painters had no time to hide their treasures. The great cathedrals could not be hidden. The Kaiser in one of his recent statements boasted that he had destroyed seventy-three cathedrals in Belgium and France. It is all too true. From the beginning, the Cathedral of Rheims, dear to the whole world, and glorious through the associations of Jeanne d'Arc, was doomed, because the Germans, having no treasure of their own, and incapable of producing such a cathedral, determined that France should not have that treasure. The other day, in Kentucky, a negro jockey came in at the tail end of a race, ten rods behind his rival. That night, the negro bought a pint of whiskey, and determined to have vengeance, so he went out at midnight, and cut the hamstrings of the beautiful horse that had defeated his own beast. Now that is precisely the spirit that animated the German War Staff and the men that have devastated France and Belgium, and every man who has witnessed these German crimes with his own eyes will never be the same person again. His whole attitude towards the Hun is an attitude of horror and revulsion. A certain noble anger burns within him, as burned that noble passion in Dante against those criminals who spoiled Florence of her treasures. 10. Was This Murder Justified? One raw, December day, in 1914, an American gentleman, widely known as traveller and correspondent, was in a hospital in London, recovering from his wound, received in Belgium. He was startled by the appearance of an old Belgian priest, and a young Belgian woman. The American author was travelling in Belgium at the time of the German invasion. Quite unexpectedly he was caught behind the lines, near Louvain. Having heard his statement, the German officer recognized its truthfulness and sincerity, and insisted that this American scholar should be his guest at the Belgian château of which he had just taken possession. The German had already shot the Belgian owner, and one or two of the servants, who defended their master. To the horror and righteous anger of the American, the German officer took his place at the head of the table, waved the American to his seat, and ordered the young Belgian woman to perform her duties as hostess. In that tense moment, it was a matter of life and death to disobey. That German officer had his way, not only with the young Belgian wife, half dazed, half crazed, wholly broken in spirit, but with the American whom he sent forward to Brussels. Plunged into the midst of many duties in connection with Americans and refugees who had to be gotten out of Belgium into England, this American author had to put aside temporarily any plan for the release of that young Belgian woman held in bondage. Later, when he was wounded, the American crossed to London for medical help. When the old Belgian priest and that young woman stood at the foot of his bed in the hospital in London, all the events of that terrible hour in the dining-room of the Belgian château returned, and once more he lived through that frightful scene. The purpose of the visit soon became evident. The old Belgian priest stated the problem. He began by saying that God alone could take human life since God alone could give it. He urged that the sorrow of the young woman's present was as nothing in comparison to the loss of her soul should she be guilty of infanticide. It was the plea of a man who lived for the old ideals. His white hair, his gentle face, his pure disinterested spirit lent weight to his words. Then came the statement of the young Belgian woman. She told the American author of the dreadful days and weeks that followed after his departure, that every conceivable agony was wrought upon her, and that now within a few months, she must have a child by that wicked German officer. She cried out that the very babe would be unclean, that it would be born a monster, that it was as if she was bringing into the world an evil thing, doomed in advance to direst hell. That every day and every hour she felt that poison was running through her veins. She turned upon the old priest, saying, "You insist that God alone gives life! Nay, no, no, no! It was a German devil that gave me this life that now throbs within my body! And every moment I feel that that life is pollution. German blood is poisoned blood. German blood is like putrefaction and decay, soiling my innermost life." The young woman wept, prayed, plead, and finally in her desperation cried out, "Then I decide for myself! The responsibility is mine. I alone will bear it." And out of the hospital she swept with the dignity and beauty of the Lady of Sorrows. A year later, in Paris, the French judge and court cleared the young girl who choked to death with a string the babe of the German officer who had attacked her. But since that time, all France and Belgium and the lands where there are refugees are discussing the question--Where does the right lie? Has the French mother, cruelly wounded, no right? And this foul thing forced upon her a superior right? Which path for the bewildered girl leads to peace? Where does the Lord of Right stand? What chance has a babe born of a beast, abhorred and despised, when it comes into the world? The women of the world alone can answer this question. IN FRANCE THE IMMORTAL! IV 1. The Glory of the French Soldier's Heroism As much as the German atrocities have done to destroy our confidence in the divine origin of the human soul, the French soldiers have done to vindicate the majesty and beauty of a soul made in the image of God. I have seen French boys that were so simple, brave and modest in their courage, so beautiful in their spirit, as to make one feel that they were young gods and not men. One day, into one of the camps, came a lawyer from Paris. He brought the news of the revival of the Latin Quarter. For nearly three years a shop near the Beaux Arts had been closed. During all this time the French soldier had been at the front. When the first call came on that August day he put up the wooden shutters, turned the key in the lock, and marched away to the trenches. Said the lawyer: "I come from your cousin. The Americans are here in Paris. Your cousin says that if you will give me the keys and authorize her to open the shop she will take your place. She can recover your business, and perhaps have a little store of money for you when you have your 'permission' or come home to rest. She tells me that she is your sole relative." The soldier shook his head, saying: "I never expect to come home. I do not want to come home. France can be freed only by men who are ready to die for her. I do not know where the key is. I do not know what goods are in the shop. For three years I have had no thought of it. I am too busy to make money. There are other things for me--fighting, and perhaps dying. Tell my cousin that she can have the shop." Then the soldier saluted and started back towards his trench. "Wait! Wait!" cried the attorney. Then he stooped down, wrote hurriedly upon his knee, a little paper in which the soldier authorized his cousin to carry on the business, in his name. Scrawling his name to the document, the soldier ran towards the place where his heart was--the place of peril, heroism and self-sacrifice. This was typical of the thousands of soldiers at the front, for French soldiers suffer that the children may never have to wade through this blood and muck. The foul creature that has bathed the world in blood must be slain forever. With the full consent of the intellect, of the heart and the conscience, these glorious French boys have given themselves to God, to freedom, and to France. 2. Why the Hun Cannot Defeat the Frenchman One morning in a little restaurant in Paris I was talking with a British army-captain. The young soldier was a typical Englishman, quiet, reserved, but plainly a little excited. He had just been promoted to his captaincy and had received one week's "permission" for a rest in Paris. We had both come down from near Messines Ridge. "Of course," said the English captain, "the French are the greatest soldiers in the world." "Why do you say that?" I answered. "What could be more wonderful than the heroism, the endurance of the British at Vimy Ridge? They seem to me more like young gods than men." To which the captain answered: "But you must remember that England has never been invaded. Look at my company! Their equipment is right from helmet to shoe, so perfectly drilled are they that the swing of their right legs is like the swing of one pendulum. I will put my British company against the world. Still I must confess this, that, so far as I know, no English division of fifteen thousand men ever came home at night with more than five thousand prisoners. "But look at the French boys at Verdun! As for clothes, one had a helmet, another a hat, or a cap, or was bareheaded. One had red trousers, one had gray trousers and one had fought until he had only rags left. When they got within ten rods of the German trench they were so anxious to reach the Boche that they forgot to shoot and lifted up their big bayonets, while they shouted, 'For God and France!' "That night when that French division came back ten thousand strong they brought more than ten thousand German prisoners with them to spend the night inside of barbed wire fences. "The reason is this: These Frenchmen fought for home and fireside. They fought against an invader who had murdered their daughters and mothers. The Huns will never defeat France. Before that could be done," exclaimed the English captain, "there would not be a man left in France to explain the reason for his defeat." 3. "I Am Only His Wife" Human life holds many wonderful hours. Love, marriage, suffering, trouble, are crises full of romance and destiny, but I question whether any man ever passed through an experience more thrilling than the hour in which he stands at the Charing Cross or Waterloo Station in London or in the great station in Paris and watches the hospital trains come in, loaded with wounded soldiers brought in after a great battle. Often fifty thousand men and women line the streets for blocks, waiting for the trains. Slowly the wounded boys are lifted from the car to the cot. Slowly the cot is carried to the ambulance. The nurses speak only in whispers. The surgeons lift the hand directing them. You can hear the wings of the Angel of Death rustling in the air. When the automobile carrying two wounded boys moves down the street, the men and women all uncover while you hear whispered words, "God bless you!" from some father or mother who see their own son in that boy. Now and then some young girl with streaming eyes timidly drops a flower into the front of the ambulance--pansies for remembrance and love--upon a boy whom she does not know, while she thinks of a boy whom she knows and loves who is somewhere in the trenches of France. One morning a young nurse in the hospital in Paris received a telegram. It was from a young soldier, saying: "My pal has been grievously wounded. He is on the train that will land this afternoon. He has a young wife and a little child. You will find them at such and such a street. I do not know whether he will live to reach Paris. Can you see that they are at the station to meet him? That was his last whispered request to me." That afternoon at five o'clock, with her face pressed between the iron bars, a young French woman, with a little boy in her arms, was looking down the long platform. Many, many cots passed by, and still he did not come. At last she saw the nurse. The young wife did not know that her soldier husband had died while they lifted him out of the car. The young nurse said that she never had undertaken a harder task than that of lifting the boy in her own arms and leading the French girl to that cot, that she might know that henceforth she must look with altered eyes upon an altered world. A few minutes passed by and then a miracle of hope had happened. "I saw her," said the nurse, "with one hand upon his hair and the other stretched upward as she exclaimed: 'I am only his wife, France is his mother! I am only his wife, France is his mother! I give him to France, the mother that reared him!'" 4. A Soldier's Funeral in Paris The two boys were incredibly happy. Two mornings before they had landed in Paris. What a reception they had had in the soldiers' club from the splendid French women! How good the hot bath had seemed! Clean linen, a fresh shave, a good breakfast, a soft cot, plenty of blankets, twenty-four hours' sleep, and they had wakened up new men. The first morning they walked along the streets, looking into the shop windows; in the afternoon one of the ladies took them to a moving picture show, and now on the second day here they were, at a little table before the café in one of the best restaurants in the Latin Quarter, with good red wine and black coffee, and plenty of cigarettes, and not even the boom of cannon to disturb their conversation. Strange that in three days they could have passed from the uttermost of hell to the uttermost of safety and peace. "These are good times," said one of the boys, "and we are in them." Then they heard a policeman shouting. Looking up, they saw a singular spectacle. Just in front of them was a poor old hearse drawn by two horses, whose black trappings touched the ground. Shabbier hearse never was seen. Strangest of all, there was only a little, thin, black-robed girl walking behind the hearse. There were no hired mourners as usual. There was no large group of friends walking with heads bared in token of reverence; there was no priest; no carriages followed after. Saddest of all, there was not even a flower. What could these things mean? How strange that when they were so happy this little woman could be so sad. Suddenly one of the soldier boys arose. He stepped into the street and looked into the hearse. There he saw these words: "A soldier of France." He began to question the woman. Lifting her veil, he saw a frail girl, and while the traffic jam increased she told her story. The soldier had been wounded at the Battle of the Marne. He was one of the first to be brought to Paris. He never walked again. "I am very poor; I have only one franc a day. We have no friends. I borrowed money for the hearse." The boy returned to his fellows. "Fall in line, boys!" he shouted. "Here is a soldier of France. This little girl has taken care of him for three years on one franc a day. Line up, everybody, and tell the men to swallow their coffee and wine and fall into the procession. Go into the shops and say that a soldier of France lies here." When that hearse began to move there were twenty men and women walking as mourners behind the body. Two soldier boys walked beside the frail little girl with her heavy crêpe. As the soldiers walked along beside the hearse the procession began to grow. On and on for two long miles this slowly moving company increased in number until one hundred were in line, and when they came into God's Acre they buried the poor boy as if he were a king coming in with trumpets from the battle. For he was a soldier of France. 5. The Old Book-Lover of Louvain Among the fascinating pursuits of life we must make a large place for the collection of old books, old paintings, old missals and curios. Certain cities, like Venice, Florence, Rome, Naples, and Madrid, have been for a thousand years like unto the Sargasso Sea in which beautiful things have drifted. Fifty years ago, men of leisure began to collect these treasures. Some made their way into Egypt and Palestine, and there uncovered temples long buried in sands and ruins and all covered with débris. From time to time old missals were found in deserted monasteries, marbles were digged up in buried palaces. Men came back from their journeys with some lovely terra cotta, some ivory or bronze, some painting by an old master, whose beauty had been hidden for centuries under smoke and grime. The enthusiasm of the collectors exceeds the zest of men searching for gold and diamonds amid the sands of South Africa. Fifty years ago a young scholar of Louvain won high praise because of his skill in dating and naming old pictures and manuscripts. When ten years had passed by, this scholar's name and fame were spread all over Europe. Many museums in different countries competed for his services. The time came when the heads of galleries in London and Paris and Rome sent for this expert to pass upon some art object. During the fifty years this scholar came to know every beautiful treasure in Europe. In the old castles of Austria, in a monastery of Bohemia, in the house of an ancient Italian family, in certain second-hand bookstores, in out-of-the-way towns he found treasures as precious as pearls and diamonds raked out of the muck-heap. When death took away his only son and left his little grandchildren dependent upon himself the old book-lover looked forward serenely into the future. He knew that every year his treasures were growing more and more valuable. Living in his home in Louvain he received from time to time visits from experts, who came in from all the cities of the world to see his treasures, and if possible, to buy some rare book. Then, in August, 1914, came the great catastrophe, as came the explosion of Vesuvius that buried Pompeii under hot ashes and flaming fire. One morning the old scholar was startled by the noise and confusion in the street. Looking down from his window he saw German soldiers, German horsemen, German cannon. He beheld women and children lined up on the sidewalk. He saw German soldiers assault old men. He saw them carrying the furniture, rugs and carpets out of the houses. He saw the flames coming out of the roofs of houses a block away. A moment later an old university professor pounded upon his door and called out that they must flee for their lives. There was only time to pick out one satchel and fill it with his precious manuscripts and costly missals. Then the two old scholars fled into the street with the grandchildren. Fortunately a Belgian driving a two-wheeled coal cart was passing by. Into the cart climbed the little grandchildren. Carefully the satchel filled with its treasures was also lifted into place. At that moment a German shell exploded beside the cart. When the old book-lover recovered consciousness the cart was gone, the grandchildren were dead and of all his art treasures there was left only one little book upon which some scholar of the twelfth century had toiled with loving hands. Carried forward among the refugees several hours later, Belgian soldiers lifted the old man into a train that was carrying the wounded down to Havre. In his hand the collector held the precious book. Excitement and sorrow had broken his heart. His mind also wandered. He was no longer able to understand the cosmic terror and blackness. A noble officer, himself wounded, put his coat under the old man's head and made a pillow and bade him forget the German beast, the bomb shells, the blazing city. But all these foul deeds and all dangers now were as naught to the old man. "See my little book," he said. "How beautiful the lettering! Why, upon this book, as upon a ship, civilization sailed across the dark waters of the Middle Ages. Look at this book of beauty. The ugliness of the tenth century is dead. The cruelty and the slavery of bloody tyrants is dead also. The old cannon are quite rusted away. But look at this! Behold, its beauty is immortal! Everything else dies. Soon all the smoke and blood will go, but beauty and love and liberty will remain." And then lifting the little book the old collector of Louvain pressed his lips to the vellum page, bright with the blue and crimson and gold of seven hundred years, and in a moment passed to the soul's summer land, where no shriek of German shells rends the air, where wicked Germans have ceased from troubling and where the French and Belgians, worn by the cruelty of the Huns, are now at rest and peace. 6. A Vision of Judgment in Martyred Gerbéviller To-day everybody knows the story of Gerbéviller, the martyred. To the northwest is that glorious capital of Lorraine, Nancy. Farther northwest are Verdun and Toul, with our American boys. The region round about the martyred town is a region of rich iron ores. Some years ago, Germany found herself at bay, by reason of the threatened exhaustion of her iron mines in Alsace-Lorraine. The news that France had uncovered new beds of iron ore stirred Germany to a frenzy of envy and longing. High grade iron ore meant a new financial era for France. The exhaustion of Germany's iron mines meant industrial depression, and finally a second and third rate position. Rather than lose her place Germany determined to go to war with France and Belgium and grab their iron mines. To break down resistance on the part of the French people, the Germans used atrocities that were fiendish beyond words. The richer the province she wished to steal, the more terrible her cruelties. At nine o'clock in the morning on August 27, General Clauss and 15,000 soldiers entered Gerbéviller. Ten miles to the south was the remainder of the German army, utterly broken by the French attack. Clauss had been sent north to dig his trenches until the rest of the German army could retreat. Every hour was precious. The Germans remained in the little town from 9 A. M. until 12:30 P. M. They found in the village thirty-one hundred women, girls and children, fifteen old men (the eldest ninety-two), one priest and one Red Cross ambulance driver. Even the little boys and men under seventy had gone to the front to dig ditches and carry water to the French. It took the Germans only two and one-half hours to loot all the houses and load upon their trucks the rugs, carpets, chairs, pictures, bedding, with every knife and fork and plate. At half-past eleven General Clauss was in the Mayor's house, when the German colonel came in and reported that everything in the houses had been stripped and that they were ready to begin the firing of the buildings. The aged wife of the secretary to the Mayor told me this incident: "We find no weapons in the houses, and we find only these fifteen old men, one Red Cross boy, and this priest," said the colonel. "Line up the old men then and shoot them," shouted General Clauss. "Take the priest as a prisoner to do work in the trenches." The old men were lined up on the grass. General Clauss himself gave the signal to fire. Two German soldiers fired bullets into each one of the old men. One of the heart-broken onlookers was the village priest. The Germans carried him away as prisoner and made him work as a common labourer; through rain and sun, through heat and snow, he toiled on, digging ditches, carrying burdens, working eighteen hours a day, eating spoiled food that the German soldiers would not touch, until finally tuberculosis developed and he was sick unto death. Then the Germans released him as a refugee, so the priest returned to Gerbéviller to die. Then came the anniversary of the murder of the fifteen old men and of the one hundred and two women, girls and children. On the anniversary day of the martyrdom the noble Governor of the province assembled the few survivors for a memorial service about the graves of the martyrs. Knowing that the priest would never see another anniversary of that day the Prefect asked the priest to give the address at the memorial service. No more dramatic scene ever occurred in history. At the beginning the priest told the story of the coming of the Germans, the looting of the houses, the violation of the little girls, the collecting of the dead bodies. Suddenly the priest closed his eyes, and all unconsciously he lived the scene of those three and a half hours. "I see our fifteen heroes standing on the grass. I see the German soldiers lifting up their rifles. I hear General Clauss cursing and shouting the command to fire. "I see you, Thomas; a brutal soldier tears your coat back. He puts his rifle against your heart. When you sink down I see your hands come together in prayer. "I see you, François. I see the two big crutches on which you lean. You are weary with the load of ninety years. I hear your granddaughter when she sobs your name, and I see your smile, as you strive to encourage her. "I see you, Jean. How happy you were when you came back with your wealth to spend your last years in your native town! How kind you were to all our poor. Ah! Jean, you did us good and not evil, all the days of your life with us! "I see you, little Marie. You were lying upon the grass. I see your two little hands tied by ropes to the two peach trees in your mother's garden. I see the little wisp of black hair stretched out under your head. I see your little body lying dead. With this hand of mine upon that little board, above your grave, I wrote the words, 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.' "And yonder in the clouds I see the Son of Man coming in His glory with His angels. I see the Kaiser falling upon Gerbéviller. I see Clauss falling upon our aged Mayor. But I also see God arising to fall upon the Germans. Berlin, with Babylon the Great, is fallen. It has become a nest of unclean things. There serpents dwell. Woe unto them that offend against my little ones. For, lo, a millstone is hanged about their necks and they shall be drowned in the sea with Satan." The excitement was too much for the priest. That very night he died. Henceforth he will be numbered among the martyrs of Gerbéviller. 7. The Return of the Refugees The return of the refugees to Belgium and France holds the essence of a thousand tragedies. From the days of Homer down to those of Longfellow, with his story of Evangeline, literature has recounted the sad lot of lovers torn from one another's arms and all the rest of their lives going every whither in search of the beloved one, only to find the lost and loved when it was too late. But nothing in literature is so tragic as the events now going on from week to week in the towns on the frontier of Switzerland. When the Germans raped Belgium and northern France they sent back to the rear trenches the young women and the girls, and now, from time to time, those girls, all broken in health, are released by the Germans, who send them back to their parents or husbands. Multitudes of these girls have died of abuse and cruelty, but others, broken in body and spirit, are returning for an interval that is brief and heart-breaking before the end comes. Three weeks ago an old friend returned from his Red Cross work in France. By invitation of a Government official he visited a town on the frontier through which the refugees released by Germany were returning to France. It seemed that during the month of September, 1914, the Germans had carried away a number of girls and young women in a village northeast of Lunéville. When the French officials finished their inquiry as to the poor, broken creatures returning to France they found a French woman, clothed in rags, emaciated and sick unto death. In her arms she held a little babe a few weeks old. Its tiny wrists were scarcely larger than lead pencils. The child moaned incessantly. The mother was too thin and weak to do more than answer the simple questions as to her name, age, parents, and husband. Moved with the sense of compassion, the French official soon found in his index the name of her husband, the number of his company and telegraphed to the young soldier's superior officer, asking that the boy might be sent forward to the receiving station to take his wife back to some friend, since the Germans had destroyed his village. By some unfortunate blunder the officials gave no hint of the real facts in the case. Filled with high hope, burning with enthusiasm, exhaling a happiness that cannot be described, the bronzed farmer-soldier stepped down from the car to find the French official waiting to conduct him to one of the houses of refuge where his young wife was waiting. My American Red Cross friend witnessed the meeting between the girl and her husband. When the fine young soldier entered the room he saw a poor, broken, spent, miserable creature, too weak to do more than whisper his name. When the young man saw that tiny German babe in his young wife's arms he started as if he had been stung by a scorpion. Lifting his hands above his head, he uttered an exclamation of horror. In utter amazement he started back, overwhelmed with revulsion, anguish and terror. Gone--the beauty and comeliness of the young wife! Gone her health and allurement! Perished all her loveliness! Her garments were the garments of a scarecrow. Despite all these things the girl was innocent. But she realized her husband's horror and mistook it for disgust. She pitched forward unconscious upon the floor before her husband could reach her. The history of pain contains no more terrible chapter. That night the dying girl told the French officials and her husband the crimes and indignities to which she had been subjected. Two other babes had been born under German brutality, and both had died, even as this infant would die, and when a few days later her husband buried her he was another man. The iron in him had become steel. The blade of intellect had become a two-edged sword. His strength had become the strength of ten. He decided not to survive this war. Going back to the front, he consecrated his every day to one task--to kill Germans and save other women from the foulest degenerates that have ever cursed the face of the earth. 8. An American Knight in France Coming around the corner of the street in a little French village near Toul, I beheld an incident that explained the all but adoring love given to our American boys by the French children. The women and the girls of that region had suffered unspeakable things at the hands of the German swine. Photographs were taken of the dead bodies of girls that can never be shown. The terror of the women at the very approach of the German was beyond all words. The very words "Les Boches" send the blood from the cheeks of the children. The women of the Dakotas on hearing that the Sioux Indians were on the war-path with their scalping knives were never so terrified as the French girls are on hearing the German soldiers are on the march. Even the little children have black rings under their eyes, with a strained, tense expression as they stand tremulous and ready to run. On the sidewalk near me was a little French girl of about six, with her little brother, perhaps four years of age. Suddenly around the corner came an American boy in khaki. He was swinging forward with step sure and alert. The children turned, but there was no terror in their eyes and no fear in their hearts. They did not know the American soldier; never before had they seen his face, but his khaki meant safety. It meant a shield lifted between the German monster and themselves. Forgetting everything, the little French girl started on a run towards the American soldier, while her little brother came hobbling after. She ran straight to the American boy, flung her arms around his legging, rubbed her cheek against his trousers and patted his knee with her little hands. A moment later when her little brother came up the American boy stooped down, lifted the boy and girl into his arms, and while they were screaming with delight carried them across to a little shop, and found for them two tiny little cakes of chocolate, the only sweet that could be had. The French children understand. The German motto was: "Frightfulness and terrorism are the very essence of our new warfare." Pershing's charge was: "You will protect all property, safeguard all lives, lift a shield above the aged, be most courteous to the women, most tender and gentle to the children." In France our boys have lifted a shield above the poor and the weak, and, having given service, they are receiving a degree of love beyond measure; but there is no danger that they will be spoiled by the adulation of the French women and children, who rank them with the knights and the heroes of old. 9. An American Soldier's Grave in France One August morning I was in the wheat fields near Roye. Somewhere in that field the body of a noble American boy was lying. He was a graduate of the University of Virginia; his mother and his sister had a host of friends in my old home city, Chicago. Guided by a white-haired priest, out in the wheat we found at last a little mound with a part of a broken airplane lying thereupon. I pulled the rest of his machine upon his grave and learned that when the French boys picked him up they found that four explosive bullets had struck him while flying in the air after his victory over many German enemies. With my knife I cut a sheaf of golden grain and an armful of scarlet poppies and said a prayer for the boy and his mother and his sister. Standing there in the rain I wrote a letter to those who loved him, saying: "When you see this head of wheat, say to yourself 'One grain going into the ground shall in fifteen summers ripen into bread enough to feed sixteen hundred millions of the family of men.' When you look at this pressed poppy, say, 'His blood like red rain went to the root to make the flowers crimson and beautiful for all the world; soon the fields of France shall wave like a Garden of God, and peace and plenty shall dwell forever there. "Without shedding of blood there is no remission." Wine means the crushing of the grapes. At great price our fathers bought Liberty.'" Two thousand years ago Cicero, sobbing above the dead body of his daughter Tullia, exclaimed: "Is there a meeting place for the dead?" What becomes of our soldier boys who died on the threshold of life? This is life's hardest problem. Where is that young Tullia so dear to that gifted Roman orator? Where is that young musician Mozart? Where is young Keats? And where is Shelley? And where are young McConnell and Rupert Brooke and young Asquith? And ten thousand more of those young men with genius. Where also is that young Carpenter of Nazareth, dead at thirty years of age? The answer is in this: They have passed through the black waters and have come into the summer land. There they have been met by the heroes coming out with trumpets and banners to bring them into a world unstained by the smoke and din of battle. There they will write their books, invent their tools, complete their songs and guide the darkling multitudes who come in out of Africa, out of the islands of the sea, into the realm of perfect knowledge, love and peace. 10. "These Flowers, Sir, I Will Lay Them Upon My Son's Grave" Last August, at an assembly in Paris, Ambassador Sharp held a little company spellbound, while he related several incidents of his investigations in the devastated region near Roye. One afternoon the captain stopped his military automobile upon the edge of what had once been a village. Surveyors were tracing the road and making measurements in the hope of establishing the former location of the cellar and the house that stood above it. An old gray-haired Frenchman had the matter in charge. He had lost the cellar of his house. Also, the trees that had stood upon his front sidewalk, also his vines and fruit trees. His story as stated by Ambassador Sharp was most pathetic. The old man had retired from business to the little town of his childhood. When it became certain that the Germans would take the village, the man pried up a stone slab in the sidewalk and buried his money, far out of sight. A long time passed by. When the Hindenburg plans were completed, the Germans made their retreat. Among other refugees who returned was the aged Frenchman. To his unbounded amazement the old man could not locate the site of his old home. In bombarding the little village, the Germans dropped huge shells. These shells fell into the cellar, and blew the brick walls away. Other shells fell in the front yard, and blew the trees out by the roots. Later other shells exploding blew dirt back into the other excavations. Little by little, the ground was turned into a mass of mud. Not a single landmark remained. Finally the old man conceived the idea of beginning back on the country road, and measuring what he thought would have been the distance to his garden. But even that device failed him. For the huge shells had blown the stone slab into atoms, scattered his buried treasure, and left the man in his old age penniless and heart-broken. Long ago Dumas represented the man who had taken too much wine as trying in vain to enter his own home, explaining to his inebriated friend that the keyhole was lost. But think of a cellar that is lost! Think of shade trees, whose very roots have disappeared! Think of a lovely little French garden with its roses and vines, and fruit trees, all gone! "Why, the very well was with difficulty located," said the Ambassador. But after all, the loss of buried treasure that could never be found is only a faint emblem of the loss of human bodies and human minds. Think of the soldiers who have returned to find that the young wife or daughter whom they loved has disappeared forever! And think of the wives and sweethearts who have received word from their officers that the great shell exploded and killed the lover, but that no fragment of his body could be found! During one day Mr. Chamberlain and myself were driven through twenty-four series of ruins, that once had been towns and villages, but where there was nothing left but cellars filled with twisted iron and blackened rafters. Already, men are anticipating the hour of victory and talking about the reconstruction of the devastated regions, the enforced service of a million German factories, building up what once they had torn down. But the restoring of houses, the restoration of factory and schoolhouse, of church and gallery, represent a material recovery. But the other day, a French woman was invited before the general who decorated the widow and praised her, returning to her the thanks of France, in that her last and seventh son had just been killed. Her response was one of the most moving things in history. "I have given France my all. These flowers, ah, sir, I have but one use for them. I will take them out, and lay them on my son's grave." 11. The Courage of Clemenceau One Sunday afternoon, last August, in Paris, Alexandre, head of the Fine Arts Department of the Government, brought me an invitation from Rodin to visit his studio. We found the successor to Michael Angelo turning over in his hand an exquisite little head of Minerva, goddess of wisdom, carved with the perfection of a lily or a rose. "He is always studying something," exclaimed the author. But what Rodin wanted us to see was his head of Clemenceau. When the covering was lifted, there stood the very embodiment of the man who is supreme in France to-day,--Clemenceau. The sculptor's face kindled and lighted up. "The lion of France!" How massive the features! How glorious the neck and the shoulders! Clemenceau makes me think of a stag, holding the wolves at bay, while his herd finds safety in flight. He makes me think of the lion, roaring in defence of his whelps. Our descendants will say, of a truth there were giants in those days, and among the giants we must make a large place for Clemenceau. The invincible courage of Clemenceau is in the challenge he has just flung out to the enemies of France. Reduced to simple terms it comes to this,--"It is said that the Germans can get within bombing distance of Paris, or reach the capital, providing they are willing to pay the price. Well,--the Allies can break through the German line and gain the Rhine, providing they are willing to pay the price. To destroy Paris means a price of 750,000 Germans at least. The probabilities are that so heavy a price would mean a political revolution in Germany. But what if Ludendorff gets to Paris? Rome was twice destroyed, and later the city of brick was rebuilt as a city of marble. Nearly fifty years ago the people of Paris destroyed their own city, at an expense of hundreds of millions of francs. The motive back of the destruction was the desire to replace an old and ugly city by a new and the most beautiful city in the world. Fire destroyed Chicago, intellect rebuilt it,--earthquake and flame levelled San Francisco, courage restored the ruins. Enemies may destroy Paris, genius and French art and skill and industry and will, will replace it. Our eyes are fixed on the goal, namely, the crushing of Prussianism. What if Paris must decrease? It will only mean that civilization in France, and humanity, will increase." Reduced to the simplest terms, that is the substance of Clemenceau's appeal. Never was there courage more wonderful. Not even Leonidas at Thermopylæ ever breathed nobler sentiments. That is why Paris is safe to-day. That is why France is secure. That is why we await with confidence and quietness the next great offensive for the Germans. In her darkest hour what France and the world needed was a hero, a man of oak and rock, a great heart, a lion,--and the world found such a man in Clemenceau. Nothing fascinates the listeners like tales of courage. Not even stories of love and eloquence have such a charm for children and youth. Many of us remember that in our childhood the crippled soldier of the Civil War became a living college, teaching bravery to the boys of the little town. For months Clemenceau has been going up and down France, heartening the people. This Prime Minister with his great massive head, the roaring voice, the clenched fist, is an exhilarating spectacle. That hero of Switzerland, William Tell, left behind him a tradition that it meant much to him to waken each morning and find Mont Blanc standing firm in its place. Not otherwise all patriots, soldiers, and lovers of their fellow men to-day can look on the great French statesman and patriot and gather comfort and courage from the fact that he still stands firmly in his place. OUR BRITISH ALLIES V 1. "Gott Strafe England"--"and Scotland" At the crossroads near the city of Ypres is a sign-board giving the directions and the distances to various towns. One day the Germans captured that highway. There was a man in the company who had lived in some German-American city of the United States. He knew that but for England Germany would have gotten through to the Channel towns and looted Paris. Climbing up on the sign-board that German-American wrote in good plain English these words: "God ---- England!" That afternoon the Australian and the New Zealand army pushed the Germans back and recaptured the highway. Among other soldiers was a Scotsman named Sandy. He read the sign, "God ---- England!" with ever increasing anger. Finally he flung his arms and legs around the sign-post, pulled himself up to the top and, while his companions watched him, they saw him do a most amazing thing. They were cheering him because they expected him to rub out the word "England." But not Sandy! Holding on by his left hand, with his right Sandy added to the words "God ---- England!" these words, "and Scotland." He felt that it was an outrage that Scotland should be overlooked in any good thing. Blessed was the people who had won the distinction of being hated by the German, and therefore Sandy added the words "and Scotland"! Now Scotland deserved that high praise. When the historian comes to write the full story of this great war it will make a large place for the words "and Scotland." Wonderful the heroism of the British army! Marvellous their achievements! But who is at the head of it? A great Scotsman, Sir Douglas Haig. What stories fill the pages of the achievements of English sailors ever since the days of Nelson, standing on the deck of the _Victory_, down to the battle of Jutland! But that gallant Scot, Admiral Beatty, holds the centre of the stage to-day. There came a critical moment also when a man of intellect and a great heart must represent Great Britain in her greatest crisis in the United States, and in that hour they sent a Scotsman, Arthur James Balfour, philosopher, metaphysician, theologian, statesman, diplomat and seer. And what shall one more say save that the finances of this war have been controlled by a Scotch Chancellor of the Exchequer, and her railways organized by a Scotch inventor. Wonderful the achievements of England--that "dear, dear land." Marvellous the contribution of Wales, through men like the Prime Minister, Lloyd George! Who can praise sufficiently the heroes of Canada, Australia and New Zealand? In Ireland, for the moment, things are in a muddle. "What is the trouble with the Emerald Isle?" was the question, to which the Irishman made instant reply: "Oh, in South Ireland we are all Roman Catholics, and in North Ireland we are all Protestants, and I wish to heaven we were all agnostics, and then we could live together like Christians." But Ireland will soon iron out her troubles. To the achievements of the various people of the great British Empire let us make a large place for the contributions of Scotland. The Germans hate with a deadly hatred any country and any race that has stopped them in their headlong career towards crime. But the next time that a German-American has gone back to Berlin and has reached the western front and puts up a sign reading "Gott strafe England" let him not fail to add these words, "and Scotland." 2. "England Shall Not Starve" Despite all warnings, rumours, and alarms, no dire peril known to passengers disturbed our voyage. The nearest approach came on a morning when the ship was two hundred miles off the coast of Ireland. The steamer was making a letter S and constantly zigzagging, when suddenly the lookout called down that there was a rowboat dead ahead. With instant decision the officer changed the ship's course and we passed the life-boat a half mile upon our right. The usual rumour started up and down the deck that there were dead bodies in the boat, but the petty officer answered my question by saying that it was 2,000 lives against one possible life that every drifting boat must be looked upon as a German decoy; that if the steamer stopped to send sailors with a life-boat to investigate it would simply give a German submarine a chance to come up with torpedoes. At that very moment one of the men beside the gun sighted a periscope and a moment later the gun roared and then boomed a second time and then a third. Because the object disappeared, all passengers said it was a submarine, but the officers said it was a piece of driftwood, tossed up on the crest of a wave. That night, on deck, a close friend of the purser came for an hour's walk around the deck. The memory of those three shots rested heavily upon his mind. It seemed that some months before he had been a purser on an East Indian liner. On the home voyage, twenty-four hours after they left Cairo, when well out into the Mediterranean, this officer went below for an hour's rest. Suddenly a torpedo struck the steamer. The force of the explosion literally blew the purser out of his berth. Grabbing some clothes, he ran through the narrow passageway, already ankle deep in rushing water. The great ship carried several thousand soldiers and a few women who were coming home from India or from Egypt. Despite the fact that all realized the steamer would go down within a few minutes, there was no confusion and the soldiers lined up as if on parade. The boat went down in about eight minutes, but every one of the women and children had on their life-preservers and were given first places in the life-boats that had not been ruined by the explosion. The purser said that he decided to jump from the deck and swim as far as possible from the steamer, but despite his struggles he was drawn under and came up half unconscious to find himself surrounded with swimming men and sinking rowboats that were being shelled by the German submarine. Suddenly a machine-gun bullet passed through his right shoulder and left an arm helpless. For half an hour he lay with his left arm upon a floating board, held up by his life-preserver. The submarine had disappeared. At distances far removed were three of the ship's boats and one raft. It was plain that there was no help in sight. Near him was a woman, to whom he called. The purser told the woman that he had been shot in the right arm and could not help her nor come near to her. She answered that it was good to hear his voice. The water was very cold. He began to be alarmed and reasoned as to whether the cold water would not stay the bleeding. From time to time he would call out to the woman to keep up hope and courage and not to struggle, but at last he saw she was exhausted. With infinite effort, swimming with his left arm, he managed to draw near to her. "Is drowning very painful?" the woman asked. "No," answered the officer. "Once the water rushes into the lungs one smothers." To which the English girl answered, "Then I think I will not wait any longer. Good-bye! Good luck!" Utterly exhausted she let her head fall over and in a moment the life-preserver was on the top and that was all that he saw. "The next thing I remember," said the officer, "was waking up to find a nurse trying to pour a stimulant down my throat." A destroyer had come up in response to the signals for help and picked up the survivors. For months he was in the hospital before he could be carried to England. Even now he was not able to lift a hat from his head with his right arm, but he could write a little. This was his first voyage to test his strength to prove to the Government that he could take his old task as purser. "How did you feel, purser, when you heard that cannon roar this morning against that submarine?" You should have seen the fire flash in the man's eyes. "How did I feel?" answered the officer. "I felt like a race-horse snuffing the battle from afar. Let them sink this ship--I will take another. Let them sink every steamer, I'll take a sailing vessel. Let them sink all our sailing vessels, we will betake ourselves to tugs. "We have 5,000 steamers that come and go between any Sunday and Sunday. Some are old cattle-boats, some are sea tramps and some are ocean hounds. They have carried 10,000,000 men and 20,000,000 tons of war materials, and 8,000,000 tons of iron ore and $3,000,000,000 worth of goods. "We have lent six hundred ships to France and four hundred ships to Italy. Our ancestors smashed the Spanish Armada. Our grandfathers baffled Napoleon and their sons defy the Hun and his submarine. "When I go down my son will take my place. When Germany beats England there will not be an Englishman left to tell how it happened." Then, leaning over the railing of the ship, the officer pointed to the setting sun, and lo, right out of the sea, sailing into our sight, came a fleet of English merchantmen, laden with wheat, and the purser said: "By God's help, England shall not starve." 3. German-Americans Who Vilify England The biography of Grant holds many exciting incidents. One of them concerns a spy who nearly wrecked Grant's plans. It seems that a rumour came saying that Sheridan had been defeated at Winchester. A telegram came a few minutes later saying that Sheridan was recovering from the disaster. Meanwhile, Grant noticed one of his young assistants was endeavouring in vain to conceal his pleasure over the news of Sheridan's defeat. That feeling seemed inexplicable to Grant. The Commander-in-Chief had three armies--Sherman's in the South, Sheridan's in the Valley of the Shenandoah, and his own army of the Potomac. How could a young aide rejoice over Sheridan's defeat without down in his heart wanting Grant defeated, the Union destroyed, and secession made a success? Grant became more and more alarmed. He told one of his associates to follow this youth, whom he feared was a spy. Shortly afterwards the man was discovered sending signals, was tried, the proofs of his treason uncovered, and finally he was executed. To-day certain German-Americans never tire of announcing their Americanism. Their favourite expression is: "Germany was the Fatherland, but the United States is the wife." Not daring, therefore, to attack our Government, afraid to confess that they want Germany to succeed, and when that time comes expect to hold certain offices under Germany, they spend all their time vilifying Great Britain. There is one absolute and invariable test of the German-American's treason to this country, and that is bitterness towards England, because England is doing all she can to prevent Germany's victory. One thing has saved this country during four years, giving us a chance to prepare--Great Britain's fleet, holding Germany's battle-ships behind the Kiel Canal. To-day our Republic is defended by three armies--General Pershing's, Marshal Foch's and Marshal Haig's. But whenever a German-American vilifies Haig and attacks England you may know that down in his heart he wants Pershing defeated, the United States conquered, and Germany made victorious. The German-American who vilifies Great Britain is angry because Great Britain has prevented Germany from loading a million German veterans upon her six or eight thousand passenger ships, freight ships, sailing vessels and war fleet, and sailing to New York and assessing fifty billion dollars indemnity upon us. In a certain Western State a German professor of electricity resigned from his institution. He was receiving about $3,000 a year. Many months passed by. One day this man was heard defaming England. "England has destroyed the freedom of the seas. England controls Gibraltar and the Suez Canal. England is the great land pirate. England is the world butcher." A Secret Service man followed the German professor, and found that he was working as fireman at the wireless station of that great city. This German professor of electricity had resigned a $3,000 a year position to work for $75 a month as fireman. As soon as he found that the United States Government was upon his track he fled to Mexico. This spy's camouflage was love for the United States, but his treason was revealed through his hatred of England. That man should have been arrested at dark, tried at midnight, and shot at daybreak. There is a newspaper reporter in this country. This German-American was caught by a trick. Another reporter faked a story, writing out on his typewriter an account of several German submarines getting into the harbour of Liverpool and blowing up half a dozen English steamers and killing several thousand Englishmen, and this German-American reporter lifted his hands into the air in glee, and in the presence of half a dozen fellow reporters shouted: "I knew it! I knew it! I knew the Germans would smash Hades out of them!" In that moment he revealed his real attitude towards the United States. Any man that wants Admiral Beatty defeated wants the American transports sunk and American soldiers murdered. That reporter should also have been arrested at dark, tried at midnight, and shot at daybreak. In another city there is a young Irish writer. He fulfills all the proverbs about the crazy Irishman. In connection with the Sinn Fein conspiracy this young writer proposed a toast to the memory of Sir Roger Casement, the success of the revolution, and poured forth such bitterness upon England as cannot be described by those who hate ingratitude towards a country that has given us a chance to prepare. Wherever that man goes he carries hate with him towards Great Britain. His atmosphere is malign; his presence breathes treason towards England. That is another man who should have been arrested at dark, tried at midnight, and shot at daybreak. No man can serve God and Mammon. No man can be faithful to the United States who hates England and loves Germany. He must love the one and hate the other; he must hold to the one and despise the crimes of the other. No man can serve God and the Allies, Germany and the devil, at one and the same time. 4. British vs. American Girls in Munition Factories To-morrow morning at eight o'clock one million British girls will enter the munition and related factories. To-morrow afternoon at four o'clock another million girls will enter the same factories, to be followed at midnight by the third shift of women. These factories average forty feet wide, and end to end would be 100 feet in length. The roar of the machinery is never silent by day or night. In one factory I saw a young woman who was closely related, through her grandfather, to a man in the House of Lords. Her arms were black with machine oil, her hair was under a rubber cover, she wore bloomers. Her task was pouring two tons of molten steel into the shell moulds. The great shells passed from the hands of one girl to another until the fiftieth girl, 1,500 feet away, finished the threads into which the cap's screw was fastened. Every twenty-four hours these women turn out more small calibre cartridges than all England did the first year of this war. Every forty-eight hours they turn out more large cartridges than all England did the first year of this war. Every six days, with the help of men not fit for the battle front, they turn out more heavy cannon than all England did the first year of this war. They have sent 17,000,900 tons of ammunition to the front. Their shells are roaring on five battle fronts in three continents. When the British boys thrust their huge shells into the cannon these boys literally receive the shells at the hands of the millions of English girls who are passing them forward. Wonderful the heroism of the British soldiers! The reason why the men fight well at the front is because there are women at home worth fighting for. In all ages battles have been won, partly by the strong arm of the soldier, but chiefly by the heart that nerves the arm. That is why John Ruskin once said that "the woman in the rear generally wins the victory at the front." It stirs one's sense of wonder to find that all classes and all social conditions are represented in these factories. Thousands of young school-teachers have left the schoolroom behind, closed the book and desk and gone to the factory. Tens of thousands of young wives and mothers have left their little children with the grandmother. Many rectors and clergymen and priests, unfit for service at the front by reason of age, work all day long in the munition factory. Many a professional man crowds his work in the office that he may reach the factory for at least a few hours' work upon shot and shell. One day in France, as I was entering the factory, I saw perhaps twenty young women come out, hurry across the street to a building where two old crippled soldiers were taking care of the little children. These young mothers nursed their babes, looked after the other children and then hurried back to the factory. Every minute was precious; every day was big with destiny. Their young husbands and brothers and lovers, when the German push came, must have their cartridges and shells ready and in abundance. Watching these women with their strained, anxious faces--women who cut each thread in the shell with the accuracy of the expert--you could see the lips of the woman murmuring, and needed no confession from her that she was silently praying for the man who would use this weapon to defend her beloved France, her aged mother and her little child. When the beast is slain and the Potsdam gang tried and executed for their crimes, and the boys come home with trumpets and banners, the ovations will be for the soldiers; but after the soldiers have had their parade and their honour and their ovation on the first day of the triumph, there should be a second great parade, in which, while the soldiers stand on the streets and observe, and the merchants and working men and the professional classes stand as spectators, down the street shall march the munition girls, who fashioned the weapons with which the soldiers slew the common enemy. For while the boys at the front have defended liberty the girls at home have armed the soldiers. Neither one without the other could have made the world safe for democracy. Through the imagination these women have a right, while they toil, to watch the shell complete their work. The smith who forges the chain for the ship's anchor has a right to exult when he looks out through his imagination upon the great boat held firm by his chain in the hour when the storm threatened to hurl the craft upon the rocks. The inventor has a right to say: "That granary full of wheat is mine; I invented the reaper." The physician has a right to rejoice over the battle and victory over the youth whose life was saved by the surgeon's skill. Not otherwise, the munition girl has a right when the long day of battle is over to say: "I safeguarded that cottage; I lifted a shield above that little child; I built a wall against the cathedral and the gallery and the homes of yonder city." For American girls of vision there is nothing that they so much desire as the immediate condemnation by our Government of 10,000 luxury-producing plants in this country, which should immediately be taken over by our Government for munition purposes, and before the daybreak of the first morning there would be ten million American girls standing before the doors, trying to break their way in to obtain a chance to fashion the shells that would protect American boys in danger at the front. 5. The Wolves' Den on Vimy Ridge The bloodiest battle of 1917 was fought on the slopes of Vimy Ridge. That ridge is seven and a half miles long and is shaped like a dog's hind leg. Lifted up to an elevation of several hundred feet, the hill not only commands an outlook upon the German lines eastward, but protects the great plains that slope westward towards the English Channel. To hold that ridge the Germans constructed a vast system of trenches, barbed wire barriers, Portland cement pill-boxes and underneath the ridge, at a depth of sixty feet, they made their prisoners dig a gallery seven and a half miles long, with rooms for the officers opening out on either side of the long passageways. One morning the Canadian troops started up the long sloping hillside, under skies that rained cartridges, shells and gas bombs. So terrific was the machine-gun fire that some cartridges cut trees in two as if they had been cut with a saw, while others did not so much strike the Canadian boys as cut their bodies into two parts. Lying upon their faces they crawled up the hillside, cutting the wires as they crept forward. Not until the second afternoon did the shattered remnants reach the German trench that crowned the hillcrest. Then they plunged down into the trench, while the Germans rushed down the long stairs into the underground chamber and fled through the lower openings of their long gallery northward towards safety. Not until the Canadian officers led us into one of those German chambers did we understand the black tragedy. The room was shell-proof. The soft yellow clay was shored up by rough boards. All around the walls were bunks. In that chamber the German officers had kept the captive French and Belgian girls. There were two cupboards standing against the wall. One was made of rough boards; the other was a large, exquisitely carved walnut bureau for girls' garments. When the German officers fled from the trench above they had just time to escape to the lower shell-proof rooms, grab some of the treasure and flee. Unwilling to give these captive girls their freedom, since they could not have the girls they determined that their French and Belgian fathers and sweethearts should not recover them. There was just time during the excitement of the flight to unlock the door, rush in and send a bullet through each young woman. A few minutes later the Canadian boys swarmed through the long connecting chambers and side rooms. In one of those rooms they found these young women now dead or dying. Gas bombs had already been flung down and the rooms were foul with poisoned air. Protected by their masks the Canadian boys had time to pick up these girls and carry them up the steps into the open air, where they laid them down on the grass in the open sunshine. But help came too late. Beginning with an attempt to murder the souls of the girls the German officers had ended by slaying their bodies. An officer saw to it that the official photographer kept the record of the faces of these dead girls. Once they must have been divinely beautiful, for all were lovely beyond the average. One could understand the pride and joy of a father or lover when he looked upon the young girl's face. The slender body made one think of the tall lily stem, crowned with that flower named the face and glorious head. Strangely enough they seemed to sleep as if peace had come, after long pain. Plainly death had been longed for. Weeks passed by. The photographs of the dead girls were shown in the hope that if possible word might reach their parents, but no friend had been found to recognize them. One day a Canadian officer, making slow recovery in a hospital near the coast, was asked by his nurse for the photograph. It seemed there was a Belgian woman working in the hospital. Her village had been entirely destroyed. Her home was gone and all whom she loved had disappeared. By some accident the Red Cross nurse remembered this photograph and decided to show it to the Belgian woman who had passed so swiftly from abundance and happiness to the utmost of poverty and heart-break. Almost unwillingly at first the woman looked at the print. A moment later she held the picture out at arm's length, rose to her feet, then drew it to her lips and hugged it to her breast. With streaming eyes she almost shouted, "Thank God! Julia is dead! Thank God! Julia is dead! Now I know there is a God in Israel, for Julia is dead, is dead--is dead! Thank God! Thank God!" Though for a long time the doves had been in the clutches of the German hawks; though for a long time the lambs had been in the jaws of the German wolves; when all else failed death came and released the lovely girls from the clutch of German assassins. 6. "Why Did You Leave Us in Hell for Two Years?" For British soldiers it had been a long trying day on Messines Ridge. For many nights the boys had been coming up towards the front trenches. The next morning at 3:50 they were to go "over the top"; a feat which they accomplished, driving in a mile and a half deep, on a long, long line, only to be stopped by four days and nights of rain that drowned the trenches and drove them back out of the flooded valley to the hillside. Because the Germans knew what must come the next day, the German cannon were trying to bomb out the British guns. That night--tired out--we drove back eighteen miles behind the line for one good night's sleep. After dinner an English lieutenant told me this tragic tale: "It was an April night last spring. All day the wind and fog and rain had been coming in from the North Sea. The chill and damp went into the very marrow of the bones. When night fell a few of us officers crept down the long stair into a shell-proof room. There we had our pipes and gossiped about the events of the day and talked with the French captain, our guest, who was spending a week studying our sector. Finally the time came when we must go back into the trench to take our turn in the rain. "We were putting on our raincoats, when in my happiness I said, 'Well, men, you should congratulate me. One week from to-night I shall not be here in this rain and mud. I shall be home in England and have my little wife and my baby girl. Just one week! It seems like seven eternities instead of seven days and nights!' "I little dreamed the little tragedy that I had precipitated. My colonel was very kind. He told me that he would have his permission in three more months. The rest of the boys also said nice things. Suddenly we realized that the French captain was acting very strangely and saying excited things with his back towards us. We did not know how we had insulted him, nor could we understand what had happened. Finally my colonel said to him: "'Captain, I hope you will have your vacation soon and have a chance to go home and see your family.' "He turned on us like a crazy man. He put his fists in the air, he half shouted and half sobbed at us. "'How do you men dare talk to me about going home? Your land has never been invaded, nor your families ruined. Home! How can I go home? The Germans have had my town for a year. In their retreat they carried away my little girl and my young wife, and now the priest has gotten word to me that in six weeks my little girl and my young wife will both have babes by the German beast who carried them off.' "And then the Frenchman cursed God and cursed the devil! Cursed the Kaiser and cursed the Fatherland. Oh, it was so terrible. Doctor, I often wonder how Americans could have left the women and girls of Belgium and France in hell for two and a half years, while you men stood in safety and in peace." The historian will find it hard to answer that question. History will have it to say that England was the good Samaritan who helped the Belgians who had fallen among thieves, while Americans were among those who passed by on the other side. 7. "This War Will End Within Forty Years" A New Zealand officer was giving directions to a group of his soldiers. They were in the field at the foot of Bapaume. The immediate task was that of cutting and rolling up the barbed wire. In that territory the Germans had left trenches foul with fever, wells filled with the corpses of men and horses, springs polluted with every form of filth, but worst of all, the barbed wire entanglements. Every sharp point was covered with rust and threatened lockjaw. Looking in every direction, the whole land was yellow with the barbed wire. The work was dangerous. The rebound of the wire threatened the eye with its vision, threatened the face and the hand, and all the soldiers were in a mood of rebellion. In an angry mood, the officer exclaimed, "There are a hundred million miles of German barbed wire in France!" And when later I asked the first lieutenant how long this war would last, he made the instant answer, "This war will continue forty years more! One year for the fighting, and thirty-nine years to roll up the wire." Because every soldier at the front hated the wire entanglements, that bright sentence ran up and down the entire line from Belgium to the Swiss frontier. And for men of experience there is more truth in the statement than one would at first blush think. It will take one more year for the fighting, but it will take thirty-nine years more to grow the shade trees. Five centuries ago the French began to develop the love of the beautiful. On either side of the roads running across the land they planted two rows of poplars, oaks or elms. When long time had passed the fame of the French roads and the shade trees went out into all the earth. Under these trees the French farmer stopped his cart, fed his horses and refreshed himself beneath the shade. Under these trees the old men at the end of their career rested themselves, and gossiped about old friends that had gone. And when the German found he could not hold the land and enjoy the shade trees, the splendid orchards, the purple vineyards, he determined that the Frenchman should not have them, and so he lifted the axe upon every peach and pear, plum and grape, cherry and gooseberry tree. Perhaps it was as black a crime to murder the land as it was to murder the bodies of the farmers, since the soul is immortal. "One more year of fighting and thirty-nine years" not to roll up the wire, but to rebuild the cathedrals and churches, the colleges and universities, the halls of science, the temples of art, the mills for the weaving of cotton and linen and wool, and above all for the rebuilding of the railways, the reconstruction of the canals and the bridges, great and small. But the most grievous loss is the human loss. Think of 1,500,000 crippled heroes and poor wounded invalids in the land of France alone! Think of another 1,500,000 young widows, or lovers and mothers! Gone the young men who promised so great things for the French essay, the French poem, for the paintings and the bronzes! Dead the young lawyers, physicians and educators! Gone the young farmers and husbandmen! Perished 1,000,000 old people and 500,000 little children, all dead of heart-break. The German beast has been in the land. Like a wolf leaping into the sheepfold to tear the throats of the young lambs and the mother ewes. What! Thirty-nine years more to recover ruined France and Belgium, Poland and Rumania? France will never be the same again. The scar of the beast will abide. That is why no man of large mind and great heart will ever make friends with a soldier from Germany, will ever buy an article of German stamp, so long as he lives, will ever read another German book, or support another German business. It is our duty to forgive the transgressor who is repentant, but it is a crime to forget the unspeakable atrocities, the devilish cruelties of the German Kaiser, the German War Staff and the German army, with its 10,000,000 criminals. 8. "Why Are We Outmanned by the Germans?" Many thoughtful men have lingered long over the despatches announcing that Great Britain called thirty thousand farmers to the trenches, thus threatening the loss of a part of her harvest. One of the British editors and statesmen explains this event by the frank statement that for the moment the Allies are outmanned, and will be until another million Americans reach France. Many men are puzzled to understand what this means, but the explanation is very simple. The combined population of Germany, Austria, Hungary and Bulgaria is not far from 140,000,000. To this must be added seventy millions of conquered and impressed peoples of Belgium, Poland, Rumania, with the Baltic provinces of Russia, Ukraine and other regions. Over against this population stands the 125,000,000 living in Great Britain, France, Italy, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and the English people of South Africa, and India, and the Isles of the Sea. Concede, therefore, that the army of six millions of Allies are over against six millions of Germans. Why are we outmanned? Back of that British editor-statesman's statement lies a most dramatic fact. Our Allies keep their treaties, and will not use German prisoners to fight against their brothers. Therefore the six million of Allies' soldiers have no support behind them. But the Germans impress all conquered peoples and lifted into the air if the observer had a glass powerful enough, he would behold back of the German six millions another six millions of impressed prisoners and conquered peoples, who support the German army. These men, driven forward by an automatic pistol and the rifle, work within half a mile of the rear German trench. They dig ditches, fill shell holes, repair roads, bring up burdens, care for the horses, scrub the mud from the wagons, and the slightest neglect of the task means that they are shot down by the German guards. All this releases the German soldier from the deadly work that breaks the nerve, and unfits a man to go over the top. That means that the German soldier can fight eight hours, and have sixteen for rest and recreation. But over against this German army fighting eight hours, with the deadly work wrought by several million of impressed servants and slaves, stands the Allied army. But our men after eight hours of active service must then begin to dig ditches, fill shell holes, repair bridges, clean the mud from the wagons, bring up the munitions, and this deadly work for eight hours, added to their eight hours of active service, means only eight hours for sleep and recovery, while the German has sixteen hours off duty for recovery and sleep. The Allies keep their treaties, and do not ask a German prisoner to fight against his brother. The Allies obey the laws of right and wrong, but the Ten Commandments are a great handicap in time of war. Is there any one who supposes that six million of Allied soldiers, working sixteen hours a day, are as fresh and as fit as six million Germans, working only eight hours a day? That is why the situation is so perilous. Fortunately victories are not won by muscle without but by the soul within. The sense of justice in the heart lends a form of omnipotence to a youth. In a moral universe, therefore, we must win. The great problem is, how to carry on until we can get another million Americans across to France, with full equipment, and fifty thousand aeroplanes. "OVER HERE" VI 1. The Redemption of a Slacker Out on the Ohio River there is a large steel town. During the last few years many foreigners who have the Bolsheviki spirit have crossed the ocean and found work in the great shops and factories. Little by little the foreign newspapers have developed the spirit that has now ruined Russia, and is here under the American name of the I. W. W. movement. In this steel city was an anarchist, with real power to move the mobs. The mere mention of the name of Carnegie or Rockefeller was to him like waving a red flag in the face of a bull. In the evenings it was his custom to climb upon a box at the corner of the street, close to a little park, and tell his hearers that all the wealth in the rich man's house was created by the workman's muscle. He made no allowance for the inventor, for the organizer, for the risks taken by the man who built a factory. A few weeks ago this anarchist laid down a newspaper, containing an account of the trial of the I. W. W. leaders in Chicago. That night, becoming alarmed, lest he himself be caught in the drag-net, and perhaps forced to enlist as an enemy alien, this agitator disappeared, leaving behind him his board bill, laundry bill, tailor's bill, not to mention many other forms of indebtedness--a disappearance that led every one of his creditors to give up any and all faith in the American Bolsheviki movement. Now there was a young boy of about twenty-three who had long been listening to this agitator. When, therefore, the second night after the anarchist's disappearance came, this young man, who aspired himself to be a leader of the mob, climbed up on the soap box, at the corner of the little park, and began to speak to the same old crowd. "Think of it, my friends! Just think of it! Think of some soldier coming in here and making me enlist! I have no grudge against the Germans. I don't want to kill them. My forefathers were all German! My name is German. And I am an American all right, all right! Still, I don't propose to have anybody tell me what I must do. If I want to enlist, I will enlist, and if I don't, I won't! I'd like to see some Government agent come along and grab me for the draft! When he comes, he'll hear a few things from me, and then some!" At that point a man lifted up his hand and said: "Now you may stop right there!" Throwing back his coat collar, he showed a little metal badge. Climbing up on the box, the stranger took the young anarchist by his shoulder and half choked him, saying: "So you want to have the people see some one take you to the draft office? Well," said the officer, "now's the time for them to see him, and I'm the man. And you people," he went on, "just take a good look at this fellow. It'll be the last chance you're going to have, for he will be in jail to-night, and to-morrow we will decide whether or not he has been opposing the draft. If he has, he stands a good chance of being shot." Blowing a little whistle, the officer dragged the young anarchist to the edge of the street, half lifted and half kicked him into the police wagon, which soon disappeared. The enemy aliens who remained behind were stupefied, partly with astonishment and partly with terror. Aliens began to say, "What will come next?" That night a number more of pro-Germans disappeared from this town with its steel mills. The next morning, at ten o'clock, the officer entered the jail. "Get a move on you, young man!" he said brusquely. "You're going up to the court to be examined to see whether you are a slacker or a traitor. In the one case you will be interned and in the other case you will be hanged or shot." The young anarchist was on his feet in a moment. "But, officer, aren't you going to give me a chance to enlist?" "Young man, this Government does not want traitors to enlist, nor pro-Germans." "I am not a pro-German this morning," cried the excited man. "I have thought the whole thing over last night. I did not sleep a wink. I think this Government is the best government in the world. And I am willing to fight for it." The officer was astounded. "Well, my young enemy," he exclaimed, "a dungeon seems to have had a good effect upon your mind. What has regenerated you? Was it the cold water or the corn bread? Or the steel door before your dungeon? Or was it the bad air in your cell? Or possibly it was the fear of death, or God Almighty, or future punishment. Come now, out with it!" It was a thoroughly frightened boy who stood half an hour later in the prisoner's dock. "Give me some book on the Government of the United States," he exclaimed to the judge. "And give me a week in which to show that I am in earnest, and I will then volunteer." The judge was very grave. "Young man," he said sternly, "any boy that will eat the bread of the United States, that will enjoy the liberty of this country, and has had all the chances to climb to place that have come to you, and refuses to enlist, has something wrong with him, and it is only a question of time when he comes to the judgment day." To this the young man made the answer that he had been lazy, careless and ignorant; that he had allowed himself to become the tool of the runaway agitator, and then once more he asked that he might have a chance to enlist. With the help of friends, the judge and the draft board finally let him off and sent him to a camp for three months' intensive training. Then came the news that his company had been sent over seas, and within a short time thereafter in the list of casualties the name of this young foreigner appeared. But one letter reached this country, and that letter was notable for this sentence: "For the first time in my life I have had young Americans for my companions. The boys in my company have had a college education and they have taught me bravery, truth, self-sacrifice, kindness and chivalry. I have learned more in two months at the camp than in all the rest of my life put together. The companionship in my company and in my camp have saved my soul." It is this that explains the redemption of the slacker. 2. Slackers versus Heroes Going through the long communication trench, between the ruined city of Rheims and an observation lookout, with its view of the German front trench, we passed several soldiers digging an opening in the soft white marl, into a parallel trench. The captain in charge called my attention to a French poilu. His hair was quite black, save for the half inch next to the scalp and that was white as snow. If one had lifted up his hair and estimated his age by the last two inches of the jet locks the poilu would have been about thirty-five, but the hair, pure white at the roots, and a glance at his face told us that he was fifty-five to sixty. "He passed inspection," said the captain, "by dyeing his hair, and several weeks ago he broke the bottle of dye. Now he is half scared to death for fear he will be thrown out, because he is at the beginning of old age. Still I have no better soldier, no stronger, braver man. But I am hoping much from a friend in Epernay, to whom I sent for a bottle of black hair dye." So long as the Frenchmen have that spirit France will never be defeated. Many weeks ago I was in a manufacturing town near Pittsburgh. The wind was sharp and chill. All overcoats were turned up at the collar. On a box stood a young Australian lieutenant. His cheeks held two fiery spots. He was telling the story of the second battle of Ypres. While he talked you walked with him the streets of the doomed city, you heard the crash of the great shells as they smashed through the public buildings; you witnessed the burning of the Cloth Hall and shivered as the noble structure fell. One laughed with him in his moments of humour and wept over the sorrows of the refugees. He pleaded with the Welshmen and the Cornishmen, and told them that the motherland was bleeding to death and that now every boy counted. He flogged his hearers, scoffed at them, praised them, wept, laughed, reviled, transformed and finally conquered them. At the close, shaking hands with him, lo! he was burning with fever, with skin hot and dry. "Lieutenant, you should be at the hotel, in bed. You will kill yourself speaking in this cold air." "Well," he answered, "there are plenty of our boys who are perfectly sound who will be killed inside of three months. I have the t. b., (tuberculosis), but I believe that I can pull through a year. I have enlisted over one hundred coal miners from Wales and iron-workers from Cornwall. I am willing to die for the motherland, after a year of t. b., since my pals will be dead within three months through bullets. And when I die I want to die with the consciousness that I have kept my manhood." I left that poor, wounded, half-dead young soldier with the feeling that I had been in the presence of a superior being. Over against these heroes stand the slackers. There are hundreds and thousands of young men from allied countries who are of draft age, who find refuge in this land. There are other thousands who have been exempted, one because he has a flat instep, another because he has had trouble with his eyes or his teeth; or has tuberculosis, in its initial form, or is a victim of bronchitis. Most of these men owe it to their country and themselves to tear up their exemption papers. They earn their living in this country, working ten hours a day, but they will not work six or eight hours a day for Old England, thus releasing some young man to go to the front. The question is not whether the youth has an exemption paper. The heart of the question is, Has he any moral right to accept an exemption? This war is being fought by untold thousands of soldiers who could obtain half a dozen exemptions. They prefer to run the risk of death in six months, to looking after their own hides and keeping well away from danger for the next six years or sixty. No one who has been in the coal regions or in the great mines of the Rocky Mountains but realizes that there are an enormous number of allied slackers in this country. They have left their country to its dire peril at a moment when Old England is bleeding to death--when every man counts and when the cripples, the invalids, the old men, the women, everybody who can give four hours or eight of work a day should enter the great war offices or commissary departments and do office work, and thus release the stronger men for their work at the front. The time has fully come when Americans should ask themselves the question whether or not they have a moral right to support with money that could be far better used, in the war stamp purchases or Red Cross work, all these slackers and cowards, at a time when the motherland asks them to throw away their exemption papers, in an hour when civilization, liberty and humanity are treasures trembling in the balance. 3. German Stupidity in Avoiding the Draft Following the revolution of 1848 in Germany, multitudes of people fled from Prussia and Bavaria, and these fugitives, settling in the United States, organized colonies that grew until there were often one hundred families in a single community. Strangely enough, as the years went on, these Germans forgot the iron yoke they once had borne, until, when many years had passed by, it came about that time and distance lent a glamour to the landscape of the far-off Fatherland. Occasional letters from their relatives kept them in touch with the old German home. At last they quite forgot the militarism, the poverty, the cruel limitations and the hypocrisy of Germany. Familiarity also with the institutions of the Republic bred a kind of contempt. Through the imagination Germany became an enchanted land. When, therefore, war was declared these German-Americans came together in their clubs, beer gardens and German churches, to pledge unswerving fealty to the Kaiser and to the militarism from which once they had fled as from death itself. Last summer brought the Government draft to the young men of one of these German colonies. The week was approaching when the German boys must have their physical examination. American officers, American physicians and the members of the draft board were already in session in a certain town. One Sunday a German-American physician appeared in that community. That night some twenty or more young German-Americans met that physician. He told them plainly how deeply he sympathized with their unwillingness to turn their guns against their own German cousins and relatives in the Fatherland. Out of pity and compassion had been born his plan to save their limbs and perhaps their lives, and also to serve the Fatherland and the beloved Kaiser. "I have here," said the physician, "a certain heart depressant. It will slow your heart like the brake on an automobile. It is a simple coal-oil product. It is quite harmless. It was made by the well-known German firm of Baer & Company, chemists, and it is so cheap. I shall see to it that you are rejected for the draft. And--think of it!--only twenty-five dollars! For that little sum I will keep you from being wounded or killed. You will each one give me twenty-five dollars; then I will give you this bottle, holding five grains for Monday, ten grains for Tuesday, fifteen grains for Wednesday, twenty grains for Thursday, twenty-five grains for Friday, and on Saturday you will be rejected." Ten minutes later the necromancer had juggled twenty-five dollars out of the pocket of each newly drafted boy and into his own right-hand pocket. On Saturday these young men appeared before the draft board and the Government physicians. All the boys were in a dreadful condition nervously. Now the heart would drop to forty, and then at the slightest exertion run up to two hundred and twenty. All were dizzy, nauseated, yellow and green, feverish. But the Secret Service men knew every detail of what had taken place, and all the facts were in the hands of the draft board. A certain farmer's son, young Heinrich H----, was first examined. The United States physician counted a pulse that varied from forty to two hundred and twenty. The physician kept his face perfectly straight. "Marvellous heart! Regular as a clock! Strong as the throbbing of a locomotive. Seventy-two exactly! Absolutely normal. I congratulate you, young men, upon your fine heart action. A man is as old as his heart engine. A boy with a heart like yours ought to live to be a hundred years old. All you need is a change of climate. France will do the world for you. You may need a little heart stimulant, but I think that nothing hastens the pulse beat like a few rifle balls and bomb shells from Hindenburg." He sent every one of the twenty boys into the service, but separated them, one going to Camp Ayer, in Massachusetts; one to Camp Bliss, in El Paso, Texas, and the rest to camps in States between. In one Middle West community a German father and son went so far as to deaden pain through cocaine and then cut off the finger of the right hand. It is generally understood that both the father and son are now in two widely separated penitentiaries, reflecting each in his own cell upon the folly of treason and the crime of becoming a traitor to the kindest and best Government that has ever been organized upon our earth. 4. "I'm Working Now for Uncle Sam" The long transatlantic train came to a dead stop at the division station in that great Southwestern State, where one was surrounded by sage-brush, the sand, the distant foot-hills and the far-off mountain range. One of the Pullman cars showed signs of a hot box, and a moment later the wheel burst into a mass of flame. In the thirty minutes' wait for repairs I made my way into the room where the conductors, engineers and firemen met. On a little table I found a copy of the address given before the railroad men of El Paso, Texas, by Secretary McAdoo. I called the attention of the different men to the address, to the clarity of the reasoning, the simplicity of the argument, the strength of the appeal and the glowing patriotism that filled all the pages. The pamphlet had been worn by much reading. It was covered with the black finger prints of busy men who had been working around the locomotives and tenders. Plainly Mr. McAdoo's speech had made a profound impression upon these employees. Having first of all called the attention of the large group of men to the creative work of Alexander Hamilton, the first Secretary of the Treasury, who struck, as Daniel Webster said, "the dry rock of national credit and abundant streams of revenue gushed forth," I asked these men whether there had been in one hundred and twenty-five years any forward movement in finance that was comparable to the benefits derived from the national reserve bank law, under Secretary McAdoo, a law that not only had prevented a panic in this country during this war, but had raised more billions within four years than the total cost of the Government in the first century of our existence. Late that afternoon, on the train, the conductor sought me out. In the midst of the discussion he drew out a roll of bills. He told me that in those mountain towns many of the ranchers did not buy their tickets at the stations. To use his expression, "They had it in for the railroads." "They pay me their fare in cash, and when I give them the receipt they tear up the receipt and wink at me. I always feel," he said, "like resenting these actions, because I know that they are incitements to petty theft, but now," he said, "I have my chance. I always tell them," said the conductor, "that money belongs to Uncle Sam. He runs this railroad, Uncle Sam takes this money. "With it he will buy guns for the American boys at the front and build ships to carry food that will feed these soldiers. I would rather lose that right arm than take one penny of money that belongs to Uncle Sam. This is my job to run this train. I tell my crew every day that we must make the coal produce every possible pound of steam, that every waste must be saved, and every pound of energy used and that we must run this train so as to help win this war." From morning till night I found that conductor was preaching that sentiment. His words were directly traceable to the words of Secretary McAdoo at El Paso, Texas. That single speech transformed these men. Measured by the results--truth that transforms life and changes conduct and character--that was a truly great speech. We must all hope much from this new sense of devotion to the interests of Uncle Sam. 5. The German Farmer's Debt to the United States There are literally thousands of small German colonies in different parts of this country. In one far distant State is a community settled by about two hundred German families, who took up the land immediately after the Civil War. By some good fortune they settled in what is now one of the very richest sections in the United States. Land that they bought for $1.25 an acre is now worth $250 an acre. In that community there are two German churches. Both pastors came from Germany, both were educated in German colleges, both read German newspapers and both insist upon carrying on a colloquial German school, with German teachers, German text-books and German standards. Little pressure was brought to bear upon these farmers during the First Liberty Loan. By many devices they succeeded in getting their boys away before the draft registration. While it was never proved technically that they had all pledged themselves not to oppose Germany, morally this is known to be the fact. October of 1917 came and the Second Liberty Loan was on. One day all these farmers received a printed card, saying there would be a meeting on Monday night, in connection with the Second Liberty Loan. "I find you made no subscription whatsoever to the First Liberty Loan. There are reasons why I think it best for me to advise you to attend this meeting." Every German farmer read that card several times. Who was this stranger who was coming into the community? Was he a Secret Service man? How did he find out that there had been a secret meeting of the Germans immediately after war had been declared against Germany? Each farmer began to ask himself: "Has any one quoted me?" Each one decided to attend that meeting. The meeting began at precisely seven o'clock. Only one man who had received the notice was absent, and his son brought a message concerning his father's absence. The stranger arose in his place, but left it uncertain as to whether he was a Secret Service man, a banker or a patriot interested in his country. He began with substantially these words: "Men, you are all German-Americans. I find that not one of you subscribed to the First Liberty Loan. You came to this country poor men. This Government sold you Government land for from a dollar and a quarter to two dollars and a half an acre. But you seem to have forgotten one thing. Your title deed to your farm rests upon your loyalty as citizens of the Republic. Whenever you refuse to support the people of the Republic you have by your own act annulled the title deed of your land. "If you refuse to support your Government in this war, you are a traitor, and when this is proved you will be shot. If secretly you have been sending money to the Kaiser to buy guns with which to kill American boys you have forfeited the title deed to your farm. Your property has become again the possession of the Government and people of the United States." By this time these farmers had their mouths open, and their faces became tense and alarmed. When his words had had time to sink in, the stranger went on: "I have here a statement as to the number of acres in each farm owned by each man in this room. The first man's name is Heinrich ----; you own 320 acres of land. It is worth at least $75,000. There is no mortgage on this farm. Heinrich, I think you had better buy $2,500 worth of Liberty Bonds. I am simply advising with you as a friend. I have made out an application for you, and all you have to do is to sign it. "My advice to every one of you is that you buy from three to five per cent, of the value of your farm. I want to say incidentally that I trust that there will never again be held a secret meeting of the Germans in this room to discuss the best way to avoid supporting the United States Government in this war against Germany, and how you can best help the Kaiser." That little sentence worked like magic. Every farmer in the room rose to his feet in his anxiety to rush forward to the table. Men literally struggled to see who should sign up first. Their enthusiasm for the United States Government was as boundless as it was sudden in its manifestation. Remember that there were only two hundred farmers in the room. And yet there are the best of reasons for believing that the men in that room bought that night nearly $200,000 worth of Liberty Bonds. 6. "Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth" Is an Ungrateful Immigrant One of the things that no patriot can ever understand is the ingratitude of the Germans who fled from the Fatherland to escape German militarism and autocracy. Lecturing in a Western State, I met a banker who had returned from a schoolhouse in a rural district where he had been talking about the Liberty Bonds to a German audience. One old German refused to attend this meeting. He was very bitter in his attacks upon our Government. He had made no subscription to the first two Liberty Loans; he had refused to help in the campaign for the Red Cross Fund; he insisted that he paid his taxes and that was all that the Government had any right to demand from him. He went one step further: The old man said that he had not read a single American newspaper since the war began, and that nothing but a German newspaper should cross his threshold until the war ended. Not until that banker descended upon this pro-German with the indignation of an outraged patriot did the rich old farmer capitulate. The story of that German is typical. He came to this country about 1859. When the homestead act was passed he received from the United States one hundred and sixty acres of land in the very centre of one of the richest States in this Union, and his one hundred and sixty acre farm is now worth about $100,000. When he ran away from Germany he was receiving twenty cents a day. He rose at daybreak, cleaned stables, milked cows, toiled in the field, began his milking after dark, worked sixteen hours a day, had nothing to eat except what could not be sold by his employer. He was a German plebeian, with no chance ever to improve his condition. He was ignorant, stupid, a mere beast of burden. So the German boy slipped across the line into Holland, came steerage to this country, slept among the rats of the ship, but the people of the United States welcomed that miserable refugee. The American school, without any charge, gave him four months' instruction every winter until he was twenty. The American people gave him a farm as a free gift. This Republic educated his children, his grandchildren and enriched them with land, office, honours and wealth. Once he hated autocracy and militarism in the Fatherland--but in 1918 he loved them. No sooner did the Kaiser invade Belgium and commit rape upon that land than this German farmer passed through a revulsion. Whatever the Kaiser did was right. If Germany did a thing it was proper. Germany had a right to break her solemn treaties; Germany had a right to sink the _Lusitania_; if Germany was out of iron ore she had a right to invade France and steal her iron mines. What had been crimes suddenly became virtues. Fleeing from the German tyrant in 1859, in 1918 the old farmer turned upon the United States that had befriended him. "If I have to make my choice, I choose the Kaiser." Mentally, it seems absurd. Morally, his was a monstrous position. But blood was thicker than water. Gratitude had no place in his heart. This old German regarded the gift of his farm by our people as a sign of weakness. The Republic gave him a homestead because he was a superior man. He actually had a belief that Germany would soon overrun the world; that the Kaiser would soon be enthroned in Washington; that some German in Iowa would supersede the Government in Des Moines, and he was simply getting ready, having made friends with the Kaiser's Government, to receive reward when the United States became a German colony. Who can explain the obsession? It is clear that the German-Americans had been drilled for forty years through their German newspapers in these ideas. Little by little they have been alienated from the institutions of the Republic. Slowly they have been led to believe that Berlin is soon to be a world capital and Kaiser Wilhelm the world emperor, while only Germans shall be allowed in this country to hold office or land, while all Americans become tenants and servitors thereto. Plainly this is what Siebert meant in his book, published five years ago in Berlin: "When we have reached our goal Germany must see to it that no race save the German race can have a title deed in land or carry weapons, just as in the first world empire no one but a Roman was allowed to own land or have a sword or spear." 7. In Praise of Our Secret Service Of necessity our Secret Service work is carried on in silence and without blare of trumpets. The achievements of the Department of Justice cannot be proclaimed from the housetops. Everybody knows something about the crimes committed by the German agents. These spies, loyal with their lips, have in their hearts plotted innumerable crimes against our Government. They have dynamited our factories and warehouses; they have burned shops and planted bombs on ships; they have thrown trains from the track; they have poisoned the horses and mules upon the transports en route to France; they have fouled the springs of knowledge through their hired reporters; with all the cunning developed by long practice, they have spread their insidious and perilous influences into the remotest regions of the land. But over against these spies and secret agents have stood the United States Secret Service men, and with everything in favour of the German plotter, our defenders have beaten the German at his own game. War was declared against Germany on April 6, 1917. One Sunday night two or three weeks later a large company of German-Americans belonging to the secret German league met in their accustomed place of assembly. There were several hundred Germans present, but among them were three Secret Service men. The German lawyer who opened the meeting was very bitter. Having made certain that only German sympathizers were present, he went on to say that the occasion of this war could be traced to Wall Street. Certain rich bankers and American plutocrats had loaned perhaps a billion dollars to England. Since the war was going against England, these rich men were afraid that they would lose their investment. In their emergency they forced war upon Congress. The speech was clever, specious, cunning, shrewdly calculated to stir up passion. And the speech was applauded to the echo. The second speaker made a no less skillful appeal to the prejudices of the members of the secret German-American league. Since the war was a money war, originated by Wall Street, the Government could be defeated as to its plans only by money. Therefore, every member of the league must make his contribution; no one present but must give at least ten dollars. And, he added, in view of the fact that it was Sunday night and that some might be without money, and since no checks could be accepted, there were several German bankers present, who would be glad to advance money to the members who wished to make cash contributions. The Germans had provided in advance against every possible emergency. Then came the opportunity for the Secret Service men. The first one arose and began with an apology for a German brogue that in reality he was assuming. He spared no words in praising the first two speakers. "What a wonderful man was the Kaiser! What victories von Hindenburg had achieved! The Fatherland was standing with back against the wall. How wicked a nation was France, and Poland! What a black heart England had!" He pictured Germany as a lamb with fleece as white as snow, and a huge Belgian wolf jumping at the lamb's tender throat. "What an ambitious man was President Wilson. How eagerly had Congress waited until Germany was weak, and then rushed in to grab the fruits of war!" When this man sat down his hearers were in a state of rapturous upheaval. But scarcely had his voice ceased echoing in the air when the second Secret Service man arose. Having complimented the first two speeches by the German plotters, he said that he thought he represented the members in expressing the judgment that the third speaker had made a speech that was unrivalled in its statement as to the duty of the members toward the Kaiser and the beloved Fatherland. The second Secret Service man, therefore, moved that it be the sense of the meeting that the member who had just spoken be made secretary of the meeting, be custodian of the funds just contributed. In five minutes he had all the secrets of the meeting safely lodged in the hands of the first Secret Service man. At this point the third representative of the Government arose and nominated the second Secret Service speaker, who had just taken his seat, as teller to count the funds, and in recognition of this man's gifts the teller immediately afterwards appointed the third Secret Service man assistant teller. During the next three hours, in the secrecy of their own meeting, over twenty prosperous and influential Germans committed themselves against this Government. About midnight the secretary and the two tellers turned over to the two Germans who had made the two big speeches at the opening of the meeting the entire collection, which amounted to thousands of dollars. But at half-past twelve, as these two Germans were entering their hotel, four Secret Service men tapped them on the shoulder and promptly relieved them of the aforementioned thousands. One of these men is now working out his sentence in a Southern penitentiary and the other in a Western penitentiary. Their sentences were for twenty-eight years. The other men who defended Germany and attacked the United States are serving terms--some long and some short. It is a proverb that the wicked flee when no man pursueth. But Dr. Parkhurst coined a striking sentence when he added: "The wicked man makes better time in fleeing when the righteous Secret Service man pursues him with a sharp stick." _Printed in the United States of America_ * * * * * Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. 
4052	----	AN ADDRESS TO THE INHABITANTS OF THE COLONIES, ESTABLISHED IN NEW SOUTH WALES AND NORFOLK ISLAND. BY THE REV. RICHARD JOHNSON, A.B. CHAPLAIN TO THE COLONIES WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1792 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR * * * * * TO ALL INHABITANTS, AND ESPECIALLY TO THE UNHAPPY PRISONERS AND CONVICTS ESTABLISHED AT PORT JACKSON AND NORFOLK ISLAND, THIS AFFECTIONATE ADDRESS IS DEDICATED AND PRESENTED, BY THEIR VERY SINCERE AND SYMPATHIZING FRIEND, AND FAITHFUL SERVANT, IN THE GOSPEL OF CHRIST, RICHARD JOHNSON. * * * * * TO THE BRITISH AND OTHER EUROPEAN INHABITANTS OF NEW SOUTH WALES AND NORFOLK ISLAND. My Beloved, I do not think it necessary to make an apology for putting this Address into your hands; or to enter into a long detail of the reasons which induced me to write it. One reason may suffice. I find I cannot express my regard for you, so often, or so fully, as I wish, in any other way. On our first arrival in this distant part of the world, and for some time afterwards, our numbers were comparatively small; and while they resided nearly upon one spot, I could not only preach to them on the Lord's day, but also converse with them, and admonish them, more privately. But since that period, we have gradually increased in number every year (notwithstanding the great mortality we have sometimes known) by the multitudes that have been sent hither after us. The colony already begins to spread, and will probably spread more and more every year, both by new settlements formed in different places under the crown, and by a number of individuals continually becoming settlers. Thus the extent of what I call my parish, and consequently of my parochial duty, is enlarging daily. On the other hand, my health is not so good, nor my constitution so strong, as formerly. And therefore I feel it impracticable, and impossible for me, either to preach, or to converse with you so freely, as my inclination and affection would prompt me to do. I have therefore thought it might be proper for me, and I hope it may prove useful to you, to write such an Address as I now present you with. I transmitted a copy of it to my friends in England with a request, that if they approved of it, a sufficient number might be printed, and sent to me. Thus I am now able to leave with you a testimony of my affection for you, and of my sincere and heart-felt concern, for your BEST, because your ETERNAL, welfare. My times are in the hand of God. He, and He only, knows how long I may live, or how long my present connection with you, may continue. I trust, however, that so long as the all-wise Disposer of all events shall be pleased to spare my life, and strength; and government shall deem my services in this remote land, necessary, it will still be, as it has hitherto been, my most ardent desire, my uniform endeavour, and my greatest pleasure, to promote your happiness. And when recalled to my native country, or removed by my God to my eternal home, to receive that crown of righteousness, which I humbly trust is laid upon me, by reading and carefully perusing the following pages, I hope you will be convinced, and reminded how sincerely you were pitied, and how dearly beloved by Richard Johnson. Port Jackson, Oct. 30. 1792. At this date, exclusive of those who died or were born on the voyage from England: Baptisms.....226 Marriages....220 Burials......854 * * * * * ADVERTISEMENT. The author hopes that all well-disposed persons will excuse the imperfections they may meet in this Address. It is the first time of his appearance in print, and may be the last. Nor would he have attempted it now, were it not for the very peculiar situation he is in, and the hope he entertains, that his feeble, but he trusts, sincere, attempt, may, by the blessing of God, be made useful to those unhappy persons, with whom he is so nearly connected, and for whose salvation and happiness he is so deeply concerned. And he returns his most sincere and hearty thanks to true Christians of every denomination, for their kind remembrance of him at the throne of grace. He still hopes, because he still needs, a continuance of their fervent prayers to God for him, that he may be indued with those gifts, and with that wisdom, zeal, and faithfulness which are so needful to direct, support, and strengthen him--and may be favoured with more manifold and abundant success in that arduous, trying, yet honourable, and at times he can say, pleasant and delightful work, in which he is engaged. * * * * * ADDRESS, &c. PART I. I Beseech you, brethren, suffer this word of exhortation. Your souls are precious. They are precious in the sight of God. They are precious to the Lord Jesus Christ. They are precious in my esteem. Oh that you yourselves were equally sensible of their value. We have now been here almost five years. During this time, I trust, I have been faithful in the discharge of my duty, faithful to my God, my country, my conscience, and to your immortal souls. I would, nay I do, humbly hope, that my labours have not been wholly in vain. Some of you, I trust, have been convinced of your folly, sin and danger; you have earnestly sought, and happily found mercy with God through a Mediator. You can now approach him as a God reconciled, a merciful Father and Friend, and are evidencing the reality of you conversion, by an upright life and conversation. But I must express my fear, that those of you, who are thus convinced of sin, and converted to God, and reformed from your evil courses, are comparatively very few. It is too evident, that the far greater part of you discover no concern for religion. The Great God, the Lord Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, death, judgment, eternity, heaven and hell,--these are subjects which seldom, if at all, engage your attention; and therefore you spend days, weeks, months and years, in a profane and careless manner, though you are repeatedly informed and reminded in the most plain, faithful, and alarming language I can use, that the wages of sin, without repentance, is death,[Rom. vi. 23.] the curse of God, and the eternal ruin and damnation of your souls! Oh, I intreat you, brethren, to consider what is contained in these two words, SALVATION and DAMNATION! The one implies every thing that an immortal soul can want or desire to make it happy. The other includes an idea, the most gloomy and dreadful that can be conceived. The former will be the admiration of angels, and the song and joy of the redeemed; the latter will be the torment of devils, and of all impenitent sinners, for ever and ever [1 Pet. i. 12.; Rev. vii. 9-17.; Rev. xiv. 11.]. Remember likewise, that ere long, either this endless inconceivable happiness, or unutterable misery will be your portion, or your doom, and mine. Our glass of life is running away apace. Our time is fast hastening to a period. Death is making sure and speedy strides towards us daily, judgment is at hand, and the judge himself is at the door. And oh! consider, when the breath we now draw shall depart, the tender thread of life be cut, our state will be unalterably and for ever fixed; either to live with God, with angels, and glorified saints, in heaven; or to dwell with devils, in the darkness and torments of hell. On these accounts your souls are, as I have already observed, very precious, not only in the sight of God, but also to me. My brethren, God is my record, how greatly I long after you all, in the bowels of Jesus Christ.[Phil. i. 8.] Next to the salvation of own foul, nothing in this world lies so near my heart, as the conversion and salvation of my fellow creatures; and especially of you, over whom I am appointed more immediately to watch, as one who must give an account [Heb. xiii. 17.]. And oh, my friends, if this affectionate, though plain address, should answer my ardent wishes and prayers, if it should prove the happy means of converting even one soul to God, I should indeed rejoice, as one that findeth great spoil [Ps. cxix. 162.]. For once, at least, endeavour to lift up your hearts with me in prayer to Almighty God, the bountiful giver of all grace. He only can make this or any other means effectual; and should it please Him of his abounding mercy to make a saving impression upon your hearts, you will reap the happy fruits of it in life, at death, and to eternity. Oh that the gracious spirit of the Lord may open the eyes and the ears of all who may read or hear what I am writing. May they who are asleep, awake! May they who are spiritually dead, be made alive! May backsliders from God be reclaimed! May every one be stirred up to consider, What will become of him in another world! For who amongst us can dwell with everlasting burnings? [Isa. xxxiii. 14.] Yet such MUST be our lot, unless we repent. May the Lord God give, to each of you, repentance unto life, that you may be holy in this world, and happy in that which is to come! My brethren, I trust I can say in truth, and with a sincere conscience, That I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ.[Rom. i. 16.] It is a knowledge, and I hope an inward experience of this precious gospel, that bears up my spirits when I am ready to sink as in deep waters, and when I am almost overwhelmed by the many heavy and daily trials, crosses, difficulties and disappointments, that I meet with in this, alas! most uncomfortable situation. An acquaintance with this gospel, an experience of its truth and power, sweetens every bitter, makes my crosses comforts, and my losses gains. It is by this knowledge that I am enabled to bear the cross of Christ, not only with some degree of patience and resignation, but at some seasons, with consolation and joy; while I at one time reflect on what our dear Lord and Saviour endured for me, and at another anticipate the unspeakable honour and pleasure, which, through grace, I hope ere long to enjoy at his right hand for evermore. And to endeavour to bring you, my dear friends, to a saving knowledge of what is contained in this gospel, is not only my duty and inclination as a minister, but also my earnest desire and pleasure, and that which I long for more than for any other thing that can be named.[Rom. x. 1.] I have often explained to you, according to my sentiments, what is contained in the gospel. But as I fear, and am indeed well aware, that many of you, after all you have heard, still remain ignorant, I will now tell you again briefly and plainly, what my views of the gospel are; that by putting this book into your hands, you may, if you please, more carefully and attentively examine and search for yourselves, whether what I lay before you be agreeable to the holy scriptures, or otherwise; and consequently, whether you ought to believe, or to reject it. The gospel, I conceive, in its most extensive sense, comprehends the whole revealed will of God, recorded in the holy scriptures of the Old and New Testament [Tim. iii. 16.]. This sacred book, which we call the Bible, describes the original state of man, as a state of perfect purity and innocence. He was made in the image of God. He was made upright [Gen. i. 26, 27.; Eccles. vii. 29.]. His understanding, will, his affections and conscience, his body and soul, were free from defilement, guilt, or guile, and while he continued so, he was not liable to pain, misery, or death. But man did not continue in this state. Our first parents disobeyed their Maker. By sinning against God they lost their original righteousness, and became earthly, sensual, devilish. Such are all his posterity: for who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? Man is now the very reverse of what he was when first created. His understanding [2 Cor. iv. 5; Ephes. iv. 18.; Titus i. 15.; rom. viii.7.] is darkened, yea darkness itself; his will, his carnal mind, is enmity against God; his conscience is defiled; his affections, no longer fixed upon God his Creator and Benefactor, are engrossed by the vain and perishing things of this world; by sin his body is become mortal. Subject to pain, disease, and death [Rom. v. 12.]; and his soul is exposed to the displeasure of God, and to the curse annexed to the transgressions of his holy law. All this misery is implied in that awful threatening, In the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die[Gen. ii. 17.]. And is not this threatening, at least in part, already put into execution? Whence is there so much ignorance and contempt of God? Why do mankind so eagerly, so universally pursue the vain pleasures and follies of the world, while they seldom think of God their Maker? From whence proceed the infidelity, blasphemy, lying, theft, sabbath-breaking, slandering and the many horrid evils, which every where abound? Whence is it that so many in this colony, labour under such sore and complicated disorders, pains, and miseries? Why are so many, both young and old, taken away by death? And why is it that others who see all those things, do not take warning by them, to prepare for their own latter end? Brethren, all these are so many undeniable proofs and evidences of what I have said; namely, that we are fallen and guilty creatures. These are the effects of Adam's sin and disobedience. The certain consequences of which would have been unavoidable and endless misery, both of soul and body, to himself and all his posterity, had not some means been provided, some way laid open, for his and their recovery. But, blessed be God, a door of hope is opened by the gospel for miserable sinners! A gracious promise was given early, even to our first parents, immediately after their fall. The seed of the woman shall break the serpent's head [Gen. iii. 15.]. This promised seed is the Lord Jesus Christ, who, in due time, was to appear in the world, to be born of a woman, that by his life, sufferings, and obedience unto death, he might recover fallen man from the misery and ruin in which he was involved. Brethren, this gospel which, as the ministers and ambassadors of God, we are commissioned and commanded to preach to sinners, proposes a free and gracious pardon to the guilty, cleansing to the polluted, healing to the sick, happiness to the miserable, light for those who sit in darkness, strength for the weak, food for the hungry, and even life for the dead [Gal. iv. 4, 5.; Gal. iii. 13.; I John i. 7.; Matt. xi. 28.; Matt. xi. 5.]. All these inestimable blessings are the fruits and effects of the death and mediation of Jesus Christ. His great design in coming into the world was to seek and to save those who are lost[Luke xviii. 10.; I Tim. i. 15.]; he came from heaven, that he might raise us to those holy and happy mansions; he endured the curse, that we might inherit the blessing; he bore the cross, that we might wear the crown; he died, that we might live; he died, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God [1 Pet. iii. 18.]. These blessings become ours, only by believing, or faith. Thus it is said, God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son For what purpose? Why, That whosoever BELIEVETH in him should not perish, but have everlasting life [John iii. 16,18.],--he that believeth in him is not condemned; he that believeth in him who juftifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted to him for righteousness [Rom. iv. 3, 6.]. My friends, search the scriptures, and you will find that this is the tenor of the whole Bible; I may add of our church also, in the Articles and Homilies. This believing is sometimes called a coming to Christ, a looking unto Christ, a trusting in him, a casting our burden upon him [John vi. 37.; Isa. xlv. 22.; Eph. i. 12.; Ps. lv. 22.]. And remember, that until we do thus come to Christ, trust in him, cast our cares and burdens upon him, we have no part or interest in what the gospel unfolds and offers; however others, who have believed, and daily act faith upon him, are rejoicing in the participation of those rich benefits and blessings which the gospel freely offers to guilty and perishing sinners. The faith whereby a sinner receives Christ, and becomes a partaker of all the blessings of the gospel, is the sole gift of God, wrought in the heart by his Holy Spirit [Eph. ii. 8.]. This Holy Spirit produces an inward change in the soul, called, in the scripture, the new birth, regeneration [John iii. 3-7], or conversion, and thus enables a sinner, convinced of his sin and misery, to look to Jesus, and to believe on him. But though repentance and faith are the gifts of God, which none can obtain by any endeavours of their own, yet we are encouraged and commanded to pray for them [Luke xi. 17.]. All who have thus, through grace, believed, and are daily living a life of faith in the Son of God, shall be saved: but such as carelessly neglect, or wilfully reject this gospel must be damned [ Mark xvi. 15.]. Think, I beseech you, of this! Remember, that it is the solemn declaration of the Lord Jesus Christ himself. Now is the time to obtain the blessings revealed in the gospel, and which are set before you when it is preached. Many have had these gracious declarations made to them, before we were born, and they will be repeated to many after we are dead. But THIS is our day. NOW is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation [1 Cor vi. 2.]. TO-DAY--for you and I may not live to see to-morrow. TO-DAY; if you will hear his voice, harden not your hearts [Heb. iii. 7, 8.]. My brethren, it is your duty, your wisdom, and will finally prove to be your greatest happiness, to seek an interest in this salvation for yourselves. It is your personal, and must be your heart concern, to make your calling and election sure [2 Pet. i. 10.]. For death will soon put a period to all the overtures of grace and mercy, with which many, and particularly YOU, are now favoured. It is as I have said, both my duty and my pleasure, to preach and proclaim these glad tidings. But to whom? Not to the dead, but to the living; even to you [Acts xv. 22.]. To you is the word of the salvation sent. But, alas! should you still put it from you, and should death at last find you in an unprepared state, it will then be too late for you to begin to cry for mercy [Eccl. ix. 10.]. A day is likewise coming, when our mortal bodies, which must shortly moulder into dust, will be raised again from the dead. Whether believers or unbelievers, whether saints or sinners, we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ [2 Cor. v. 10.; Dan. 12.2.; Matt. xxv.21.]. For the Lord Jesus will shortly appear in the clouds of heaven, the last trumpet shall sound, the graves shall open, the sea give up her dead, and all who have lived upon earth, from the creation to the final consummation of time, will then be judged, and rewarded or punished according to their works. Mark well St. John's representation of this solemn transaction, "I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God, and the books were opened, and another book was opened, which is the book of life, and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works"[Rev. xx. 12, 13.]. Such are the declarations of scripture respecting this awful season! Sinners, whatever you may now think of these things, or think or say of me, for declaring them to you, in this, plain and solemn manner, I must and will tell you, that there is not a profane oath which you have uttered, nor a lie which you have told, nor a sabbath which you have broken, nor a single act of adultery, fornication, theft, or any wickedness of which you have been guilty; in a word, there is not an evil you have committed, nor a duty you have omitted to perform, but what is noted down in the book of God's remembrance, and will be produced against you in the day of judgment, unless you repent, and believe the gospel. You must then give an account how you improved the advantages now afforded you, for attending to the things pertaining to your peace. If you do not improve them, the Bible will condemn you, every faithful sermon you have heard will condemn you, nay, every sermon which you might have heard, but would not, because you despised and neglected the ordinances of public worship, will condemn you: And alas! this address, by which I try to warn you, because I love you, and wish well to your souls; which you are now reading, or perhaps, about to throw aside with scorn, will then condemn you. The admonitions, intreaties, prayers, and tears of godly parents, the advice and reproofs of pious friends, the warning and expostulations of faithful ministers, will all witness against you. My brethren, what shall I say? The law of God, the gospel, saints, sinners, angels, your own consciences, the Holy Spirit, the Lord Jesus, the great Judge himself, will all witness against you, for your contempt and neglect of that mercy and salvation, which are set before you in the gospel. Then all ungodly and impenitent sinners, being tried, cast, and condemned, must hear that final terrible sentence pronounced upon them, Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels![Matt. xxv. 41.] And remember that those who have been your associates in wickedness here, will then be your companions in misery. This will, if possible, aggravate your torment. You and they will rue the day when you first met; and mutually charge the ruin of your souls upon each other. Oh, think of this, and pray for grace to repent, before it be too late! At that solemn season, the righteous shall be publicly and fully acquitted before the assembled world. The judge will say to them, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you, from the foundation of the world [Matt. xxv.34.]. The holy angels will then conduct them to the mansions of eternal bliss. Happy souls! They will then have no more cause to weep and mourn, to fight and wrestle. They will no more be exercised with darkness or temptation; for sin, which is the cause of all their conflicts and sorrows, shall be done away; and God their gracious Father, and everlasting Friend, shall wipe all tears from their eyes [Rev. vii. 17.]. The righteous, however obscured and reproached upon earth, shall then shine forth like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. They are represented to us, as standing before the throne, clothed in white robes, with palm-branches (the emblems of victory) in their hands, and singing to their harps their Redeemer's praise [Matt. xiii.43.; Rev vii. 9,10.]. There they will join in company with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, with the apostles, prophets, and martyrs, with their dear friends and relatives, who died in the faith before them, and with the glorious angels; and above all, (without which heaven itself would be no heaven to them) they will enjoy the unclouded presence of their Lord and Saviour, who once suffered pain, and shame, and death for them. They will see him seated upon a throne of glory, and unite with all the heavenly host, in ascribing salvation, glory, and honour, and praise to him who loved them, and washed them from their sins in his own blood; and has made them kings and priests to God, and to the Lamb, for ever and ever [Rev. v. 9.]. For the joys of heaven, and the pains of hell will be eternal. Otherwise, indeed, neither the happiness nor the misery of a future state could be complete. It would damp the joys of the blessed, to apprehend that they must at length terminate. And the horrors of the damned would be in a degree alleviated, if there was the most distant prospect that they would have a period. But the word of God assures us, that believers, after death, enter into life eternal, and that the punishment of the wicked will be everlasting [Matt. xxv. 46.; Dan. xii. 2.; 2 Thes. i. 7-10.]. I have now given you a summary of the great truths, which, as a minister of the gospel, I am commissioned and commanded to preach. And I can call God and your consciences to witness, that I have not shunned thus to declare to you the whole counsel of God [Acts xx. 27.]. I have explained to you the meaning, and I have urged the importance of these things over and over. I have pointed out to you, the wretched and dangerous condition of sinners, the necessity of conversion or the new birth, the nature of this change, and by what power it is wrought, and the fruits and effects which such a change will produce in a man's tempers, words and actions. I have also shewn you the way, in which you MAY and must be saved, if you are saved at all. I have told you again and again, that Christ is the Way, the truth, and the life, and that there is no coming to God with comfort, either in this world, or in that which is to come, but by him. He has told you so himself [John xiv. 6.; Acts iv. 12.]. And the apostle assures you, that there is no other name under heaven, given unto men, whereby they can be saved. Look unto him, and you shall be saved; if not, you must be damned. This is the plain truth, the express declaration of the Bible. Life and death are set before you [Deut. xxx. 15.]. Permit me then, as your minister, your friend, and a well-wisher to your souls, to press these serious and weighty considerations home upon your consciences once more. I hope and believe that I have affected nothing, but what can be proved by the highest authority, the word of the living God. They certainly deserve your closest and most careful attention, since it is plain beyond a doubt, that upon your knowledge or ignorance, your acceptance or rejection of this gospel, your everlasting happiness or misery must depend. Brethren, I do not ask you, what religious persuasion or denomination you have espoused. I fear, that, if I may judge of your hearts by your actions, too many are destitute of any sense of religion at all. But I do not address you as Churchmen or Dissenters, Roman Catholics or Protestants, as Jews or Gentiles; I suppose, yea, I know, that there are persons of every denomination amongst you. But I speak to you as men and women, as intelligent creatures, possessed of understanding and reason. I speak to you as mortals, and yet immortals; as sinners, who have broken the laws of God, and are therefore obnoxious to his displeasure. And my sole aim and desire is, to be instrumental in turning you from darkness to light, from sin to holiness, from the power of Satan to the service and favour of God [Acts xxvi. 18.]. Seek then, I beseech you, above all things, an interest in the blessings of the gospel. Be assured it is a matter of much less moment, whether you are rich or poor, respected or despised in this world. The rich have their cares, fears, crosses, and vexations, no less than the poor; but admitting that they could pass through life with greater ease than others, we all know that they cannot escape death. The great point is, how we shall die? whether as believers or unbelievers, as saints or sinners. One soul, according to our Lord's declaration, is of more value than the whole world [Mark viii. 36.]. If you lose your soul, you lose all at once. You lose heaven and happiness for ever. Whatever, therefore, you do, or leave undone, for God's sake, and for your own sakes, neglect not for one day or hour longer, the vast concerns of another life. Delays are dangerous. The more we have to risk or lose, the greater folly it would be accounted, to defer securing our property and goods, which we know to be in danger. What folly, therefore, what madness must it be, to put off with careless indifference, the concernments of eternity; and to prefer the trifles of this transitory life to heaven, and the favour of God! Let the parable of the rich man, who pleased himself with the thought of having much good laid up for many years, be a warning to you![Luke xii. 16-28.] That very night his soul was required of him. Such persons may now deem themselves wise; but ere long they will be sensible they were fools. It you consider what a valuable price was paid for our redemptions you must be convinced that the soul of man is very precious in the sight of God, and that sin is not so light and small an evil, as many of you have supposed. To disobey the commandments of the just and holy God, is, as far as in us lies, to renounce our allegiance to him, and our dependence upon him, and to set up for ourselves, and even to join with the devil in open rebellion against our Maker. It is, in plain terms, to fly in his face, and to bid defiance to his almighty arm. Sin is such a horrid evil, that unless it is forgiven, and blotted out, by the blood of Jesus, it will sink your souls lower than the center of the earth, even into the very depths of hell, never, never, never more to rise [Mark ix. 44-48]. So heinous was sin, in the sight of God, that rather than permit it to pass unpunished, he would punish it in the person of his own, his only, his well-beloved Son, who was made sin, that is, treated as a sinner deserved to be treated, for us. He was delivered up into the hands of wicked men, and crucified, that by his suffering and death, he might make atonement for our sins, and procure an honourable and happy reconciliation, between a righteous God, and offending sinners [2 Cor. v. 18-20]. I beseech you, therefore, to prize and to study this gospel, that you may obtain a growing experience of its benefits. Praise God for such a Saviour, and such a salvation as he has provided. Adore him, for that infinite wisdom, and boundless mercy which he has displayed in the redemption of fallen man and never rest, nor be satisfied, till you have good and scriptural reason to hope, that this Saviour is yours, with all the blessings he is exalted to bestow without money and without price. Our food, my brethren, then only can nourish us, when it is eaten and digested. Medicines can only profit us, by being applied and taken. It is exactly thus with the gospel. We may hear, and talk of these things, but so long as they remain matters of speculation, and do not enter into our hearts, into the very vitals of our souls, (if I may so speak) we cannot be the better for them. Christ is the bread of life. His flesh is meat indeed, and his blood is drink indeed! But unless we ourselves do SPIRITUALLY eat the flesh and drink the blood of the Son of man (for our Lord speaks of food for the soul, not for the body) we have no life in us [John vi. 52-58.]. Moses, by the express command of God, erected a brazen serpent upon a pole, in the view of the camp of Israel [Numb. xxi. 9.]. Such of the people as were stung by the fiery serpents, were directed and commanded to look up to the brazen serpent. They who did so were healed. But if any resisted, they were sure to die. For no other means or physicians could relieve them. In like manner Christ Jesus our Saviour, once lifted up on the cross, is exhibited in the preaching of the gospel. Sinners, who are wounded and diseased by sin, are directed, exhorted, encouraged, and commanded to look up to him [John iii. 14, 15.]. And they who are persuaded so to do, are infallibly cured of all those spiritual maladies, under which they have long and sorely laboured. But all, who despise and reject this sovereign remedy of God's gracious appointment, either by a total indifference to religion, or by expecting salvation in any other way, will be left, and that most deservedly, to perish in their wilful obstinacy and unbelief [John iii, 36.]. PART II In the former part of this address, I have already laid before you, in the plainest manner I was able, my views of the gospel of Christ. And as an experimental knowledge of this gospel is so very important, I have endeavoured to press that importance upon your consciences. Whether you have paid that attention to the subject, which it deserves and requires, yourselves best know. I can only say, that if I did not know it to be of great weight, I should not either speak or write of it with so much earnestness. But being persuaded and assured, by the express testimony of the holy scriptures, that these things are true; and truths, the knowledge of which is essential to your present and future happiness, I must be plain and faithful in declaring them. I ought to be very indifferent what men of depraved morals, and corrupt principles may say, or think of me, if I have the witness of a good conscience, and the approbation of the God whom I serve. My concern is for YOUR welfare and salvation; for I am certain, as I have told you before, and now tell you again, that unless the gospel is made the power of God to your souls, you must be miserable in time, and to eternity. I propose now to give you some advices, to assist you in understanding the gospel for yourselves, which if you observe, I trust, you will attain to the possession of those principles, and walk by those rules, which will both afford you present peace, and secure your future happiness. For godliness has promises pertaining to the life that now is, and to that which is to come. Let me then exhort you to attend seriously to what you are to believe; and to what you are to do. These two points include the sum and substance of the gospel, the whole of the christian life, and may be comprised in two words, FAITH and PRACTICE. I. You must learn from the word of God, what you are to believe. True faith is the root and foundation of all real religion. Without this inward principle, nothing that we have done, or can do, will be acceptable to God [Heb. xi. 6.]. I have briefly informed you what you are to believe--That you are sinners, that Jesus Christ is an all-sufficient and willing Saviour--and that the word of God both warrants and commands you to look to him for salvation. This looking unto Jesus, is what we particularly mean by faith or believing. When we cordially and entirely rely upon him, upon the invitation of the promises of God, for pardon, peace, and eternal life, then we believe. All who thus believe, through grace, are required and commanded to be careful of maintaining good works [Titus. iii. 8.]. As our moral, and what are often called, our virtuous actions, are to be tried by our religious principles; it is equally true, that our religious principles or at least the proof that they are indeed OUR principles, must be evidenced by our moral conduct. These two are so inseparably connected, that you may depend upon it, where one of them is wanting, what bears the name of the other, is no better than pretended. If what we profess to believe does not make us humble, honest, chaste, patient, and thankful, and regulate our tempers and behaviour, whatever good opinion we may form of our notions or state, we are but deceiving ourselves. The tree is known by its fruits [James. ii. 17,18.; Matt. vii. 20.]. In this way true believers are equally distinguished from profane sinners, and from specious hypocrites. The change in their hearts always produces a change in their whole deportment. Sin, which was once their delight, is now the object of their hatred. It was once necessary as their food, but now they avoid it as poison. They war, watch, and pray against it. And their delight is to study the revealed will of God. By these tests you may judge of your true state before God. Surely you cannot suppose that your inward state is GOOD, while your outward conduct is BAD. Hence you may be assured that no unclean person, or profane swearer, no one who lives in direct opposition to the commands of God, can be, while he continues in this course, a true christian. Such a supposition would be no less absurd, than it would be to suppose, that a man is a good and peaceable subject, though he lives in open rebellion against the king. You may as well conceive of a holy devil, as of an unholy christian. I hope you will not mistake me. I do not mean that true christians are without sin. But I affirm, that no true christian can live in an habitual course of sin. No, sin is their grief, their burden [1 John. iii. 8,9.; Rom. vii. 23,24.]; and when through temptation, or unwatchfulness, they are drawn aside, like the dove sent out of the ark, they can find no rest, till by hearty repentance, and true faith, they obtain a new sense of forgiveness. I now proceed to offer you some directions, with which if you comply, I trust, that by the blessing of God, you will enjoy peace in your souls, and be enabled to regulate your conduct and conversation, as becometh the gospel of Christ. Read and study the scriptures. This was our Lord's direction to the Jews. Search the scriptures, for in them ye think ye have eternal life, and they testify of me [John v. 37; Acts xvii. 11.]. The Bereans were commended for their attention and diligence in this respect. They received the word with all readiness of mind, not with a blind and implicit faith in what they heard, even from an apostle, but they searched the scriptures daily, to know whether what he taught them was agreeable to the word of God. The Bible is our only sure and infallible guide. It was given by inspiration of God. All other books, however good and useful, are but of human composition, and are therefore not perfect. [2 Tim. 8-16.; Isa. viii. 20.] This sacred book, as I have already observed to you, contains all that is needful to make us wise unto salvation. It informs us of our original, how pure and innocent; and our present condition, how guilty, polluted and miserable! and the happiness or misery which awaits us in a future state. From this book we may learn, the malignity of sin, the holiness, spirituality, extent, and sanction of the law of God; and consequently, the just and certain condemnation due to our disobedience. It shews us, likewise, the way of our recovery. How perfectly the mediation of Christ is suited to vindicate the honour of the law, and to display the justice of God, in harmony with his mercy, and thereby to give peace to the consciences of convinced sinners. I intreat you, therefore, to read the word of God carefully. Many of you have had Bibles or New Testaments given to you, and others might have them, if they had but an inclination to read. Some of you will perhaps object, and say, as you have already said to me, We cannot read. Others, We have no time given us. If you cannot read yourselves, you might prevail on some of your comrades to read to you*. As to your having no time, I much question it. Rather you have no inclination. Too many of you can find time to jest, to talk obscenely or profanely, to read and sing idle songs; why might not some, or rather the whole of this time be employed in reading, or hearing the Bible? You might find time, if you could find a will. But remember, that such excuses as you now make, will stand you in no stead when you appear before God in judgment. There are few, if any of you, but might have opportunity of attending to these things, if you were but willing. [*Footnote: Two or three hours thus spent on the Lord's day, in instructing each other to read, would be a very commendable employment. I have often expressed my longing desire that such a plan was set on foot among you. And if there could be a convenient building created for this purpose, I should think myself happy, not only to furnish you with books, as far as I am able, but also personally to attend and assist you, as much as my immediate calls of duty would permit.] II. Observe and reverence the sabbath, or Lord's day. Remember the sabbath-day, to keep it holy [Exod. xx. 8.], is a solemn and positive command of God. To live in the neglect of this commandment, is absolutely to despise God, and to defy him, as it were to his face. Consider, my friends, you have orders frequently given you here, by your superiors, which you know you must obey, or you know the consequences of disobedience--judge then for yourselves, what have those persons to expect, who, in defiance of the authority of the great God, presume to neglect and profane the day which he has so expressly enjoined to be kept holy? It gives me a deep and continual concern to observe how the Lord's-day is spent by many of you. What would a stranger think, who regards the sabbath, if he visited every part of this colony on the Lord's day? Ah! my brethren, I have seen and heard enough (alas! much more than enough) to form my own judgment on this subject. If my duty did not require my attendance on the public worship, and were I to visit your different places and huts, I fear I should find some of you spending the hours appointed for divine service in cultivating your gardens and grounds, others indulging themselves in mere sloth and idleness, others engaged in the most profane and unclean conversation, and others committing abominations, which it would defile my pen to describe. Now what must be the end of these courses? God says, Remember the sabbath day to keep it holy. But the language, both of your hearts and actions, is, "We will not keep it holy. It is a day given us for ourselves; and we wish, and we are resolved to spend it as we please. We do not chuse to be confined, or compelled to hear so much preaching and praying." Is not this the language of your hearts? Your conduct too plainly proves it: but, my brethren, let me reason and expostulate a little with you upon this head. Consider, what have been the consequences to many who have thus broken God's commands. I have known, and you likewise have known, those who have been brought to an untimely and disgraceful end, and who have dated their ruin from this one evil, the profanation of the Lord's day. Instead of spending it in the manner which he has enjoined, they kept bad and profligate company. By this practice, all serious impressions (if they formerly had any) have been driven from their minds. Their hearts have become more and more hardened and insensible; till at length, lost to all prudent reflection, they have regarded neither the tender solicitations and tears of parents, relations, and friends, the faithful warnings of ministers, nor the checks and rebukes of their own consciences. And what has been the event? I need not tell you, that having given way to their own wicked wills, the advice and example of their ungodly companions, and the temptations of the devil (for, be assured, that he is always at the bottom of these mischiefs) they have, at length, committed some act of depredation and villainy, which has brought them to an untimely grave. Such, brethren, have been the free and ingenuous confessions of many of those unhappy people who have suffered death. And if you were to speak the sentiments of your hearts, I doubt not, but many of you, who by the mercy of God are yet living, would make the like acknowledgment; that breaking the sabbath was the first step towards bringing you into that pitiable situation, in which you either have been, or still are suffering. And will you still persevere in the road of misery? Will you still prefer the chains of your own depraved inclinations, to the service of God, which is perfect freedom? According to the Jewish law, a man was stoned to death, for gathering sticks on the sabbath day [Numb. xv. 32-36.], whereas you are doing a number of things on the Lord's day, which might as well be done before, or left undone till afterwards. But such is the long-suffering of the Lord, that though others have been cut off, you are spared to this hour. May his goodness lead you to repentance! Or otherwise, light as these things may appear to you now, and though you may plead a necessity for what you do, I tell you again, as I have often told you before, that a day is coming when God will call you to a strict account. Besides, If you would reasonably hope for the blessing of God to succeed your labours, it is certainly your interest, as well as your duty to obey his commands. And this in particular, Keep the sabbath day holy. If, in direct opposition to this plain, precept, you will work and labour, as on other days, what ground can you have to expect that God will bless and prosper your undertakings? You have much greater cause to fear that his curse will follow you in your affairs, and blast and disappoint all your wishes and prospects. Let then the misconduct and fatal ends of others, and the calamities and troubles that you have brought upon yourselves--Let the gracious promises of God, on the one hand, and his awful threatenings on the other, induce you, in future, to remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy! And let me offer you a few plain directions, as to the observance and improvement of the sabbath: Begin the day with prayer; and for this purpose seek some place of retirement, if you find it impracticable to meditate or pray, from the interruptions you are exposed to in your dwellings*, from those who ridicule and scoff at every appearance of religion. Retire from them, and pray to him who seeth in secret; and praise him for the many mercies you have received. Consider with yourself, how little you have improved them. Humble yourselves before God, under a sense of your sins and imperfections, and pray for pardon and repentance. Intreat him, to enable you to watch over your hearts, words, and actions, throughout the day, and that you may not be hindered or hurt by the snares and temptations around you. Intreat God to assist your minister, and to accompany what you may hear from him, with a blessing to your soul, and to all who shall be present with you. [*Footnote: Many complaints have been made to me on this head.] If you have families, you should call them together, and pray with them, and for them. There are many promises made to worshiping families, and to those who, like Abraham, endeavour to teach their children and household to know and serve the Lord. [Gen. xviii. 19.; Prov. iii. 33.] And the neglect of this is one reason, why many families live uncomfortably. They live without prayer, and therefore without peace. Having thus endeavoured to impress your minds with serious thoughts, in secret or at home; attend constantly upon the public worship, and there pay a close attention to every part of the service. Remember that the eye of God is particularly upon you there. He has promised to be with two or three that meet together to call upon his name [Matt. xviii. 20.; John iv. 24]. He is to be worshipped in spirit and in truth; and whether they assemble in a church, or in the open air, he can give them cause to say with Jacob, This place is surely the house of God, and the gate of Heaven [Gen. xxviii. 17.]. Attend the public worship again in the afternoon, with your hearts lifted up to God, that you may not hear in vain; and accustom yourself in the evening to recollect what you have heard, concerning the miseries which sin has brought into the world, the love of God in sending his own Son to redeem sinners from those miseries; the sufferings, life, death, and resurrection of the Saviour; and that eternal rest, which remaineth for the people of God--FOR YOU, and FOR ME, if we are believers in Christ. If, by the blessing of God, I can happily persuade you thus to observe and improve the Lord's day, I am sure it will promote both your pleasure and your profit. Can it be a question with you, whether the God who made heaven and earth, or Satan, the god of this world, is the best master? Indeed I too well know the indisposition and averseness of the carnal mind to God and his ways. Hence the thought of many is, What a weariness is it? And, When will the sabbath be ended? Hence that open contempt and scorn, which is cast upon the sabbath, and upon public worship by many, both high and low, rich and poor, bond and free, old and young, men and women. To them the worship of God is tedious and disagreeable. They neither find pleasure in it, nor expect benefit from it. And therefore their attendance is not from choice, but from constraint. But the thoughts and the conduct of true Christians are very different. No day is so welcome to them as the Lord's day; not merely considered as a day of rest from labour; but because, having their heads and hearts freed from the cares and incumbrances of the world, it affords them opportunities of waiting upon God. And, brethren, you must allow that these persons are best qualified to judge of the question I have proposed, Whether is best, to walk in the ways of God, or in the ways of sin? For they have experienced both sides of the question. They have tried the pleasures of the world, and they have also tried the pleasures of religion. And they will readily assure you, that in their deliberate judgment, one day thus spent in devotion, and the exercises of religion, is preferable to a thousand days wasted in the vain and unsatisfying pleasures, which they sought in their former wicked practices [Ps. lxxxiv. 10.]. I have written thus largely upon the due observance of the Lord's day, because of that shameful, open, and general neglect, that daring profanation of the Sabbath, which abounds amongst us. It is well known, and it is matter of great grief and concern to me, that numbers of you pay not the least regard to this day. Numbers of you will not come to public worship at all, others but seldom, and then with much reluctance. And when spoken to, different persons frame different excuses, all which, when examined, amount to little more than a want of inclination. I have here a more special reference to those of you, who are called Settlers and Free People. You think, perhaps, and some of you say, That having served out your appointed term, you are now your own masters, and have therefore a right to employ your time as you please. But, indeed, it is not so. I must tell you, brethren, that my commission from God, and my appointment from government, extend equally and alike to all the inhabitants, without distinction. It is my duty to preach to all, to pray for all, and to admonish every one. And it is no less the duty of all, to come to public worship, to hear the gospel, and to pray for me. These mutual ties and obligations between you and me, are not lessened by any change in your circumstances. And remember, that the slight you put upon the public worship, is not properly a slight of me (if that was all, it would be a matter of utter indifference) but upon the Lord himself; for I trust it is his message, and not my own, that I deliver to you [Luke x. 16.]. I wish, therefore, what I have said upon this subject, to be understood as addressed TO ALL, whether of higher or lower rank, who are guilty of breaking the sabbath. Whatever our station or calling may be, our obligations to keep holy the sabbath-day, are precisely the same. If any are more inexcusable than the rest, it must be those, who, from their station and office, are peculiarly bound to set a good example to others. I hope this friendly hint will be received in good part. I mean not to offend. But I must admonish you, that whatever be your situation in life, you will gain nothing in the end, by doing what God forbids, nor will you be a loser by yielding strict obedience to his commands. III. Be constant and diligent in prayer to God. Intreat him to give his blessing to what you read and hear, and to all your concerns. As we are weak and needy creatures, always dependent upon God, and always receiving mercies and favours from him, we ought to be frequent and earnest in prayer. Daniel was accustomed to pray three times in the day [Dan. vi. 10.; Ephes. ii. 12.]. I hope you will be punctual in prayer, morning and evening, at least. So long as any of you live without prayer, you live without Christ, without hope, and without God in the world. They, who do not pray to God while upon earth, will not be admitted to praise him in heaven. When the rich careless man who had fared sumptuously every day, for a time, lifted up his eyes in torments, he only desired and prayed for a drop of water to cool his tongue, but it was not granted to him. Oh! if you value your souls, pray earnestly to God. Consider your obligations to do so. He is your Creator, Preserver, Benefactor. In him you live and move, and have your being. And therefore not to acknowledge, by prayer, your dependence upon him, would manifest the greatest ingratitude and insensibility. Consider, likewise, the encouragement you have to pray. Though you are by nature sinners, and by practice enemies and rebels, he gives you free and sure promises, that whoever is disposed to return to him, and seek him by earnest prayer, shall not seek him in vain. Oh! my brethren, that there was less cursing and swearing, and more prayer among you! After these positive directions what you ought TO DO, I proceed to some necessary cautions, against what you ought to avoid. I. Profane swearing is one thing against which I am especially bound to warn you, because it is an evil which so much abounds amongst you. God has said, Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless, that taketh his name in vain. Our Saviour likewise has said, Swear not at all [Exod. xx. 7.; Matt. v. 34.]. But how can you reconcile these prohibitions to your conduct; or your consciences? When instead of not swearing at all, many of you seldom open your lips, but the first and last words which you utter, are blasphemous oaths, and horrid imprecations? Is this acting like rational or accountable creatures? Who gave you the powers of reason and speech? Was it not God? And can you think that he gave them to you, that you may blaspheme his holy name, and to use the most profane, obscene, and desperately wicked language your hearts can invent; a language only fit for incarnate devils, and shocking to the ears of the ignorant heathens? This is a dreadful evil which you may be assured, will not pass unpunished. This sin has often brought heavy judgments upon individuals, families, and kingdoms. Because of swearing the land mourneth [Jer. xxiii. 10]. Shall not I visit for these things, saith the Lord? As a proof of the enormity of this sin, you read, that Moses, by the command of God, ordered a man to be stoned to death, for cursing and blaspheming [Lev. xxiv. 10-16.]; and it would be well, both on their own account, and for the good of others, if magistrates would strictly discharge their duty, by enforcing the laws of our land, which are engaged against this horrid practice. And in few places, perhaps in no place, such strictness would be more needful, or more salutary, than in this colony. Our Lord assures us, that for every idle word that men shall speak they shall give an account in the day of judgment! [Matt. xii. 36] How dreadful then will be the case of those persons, who during their whole life have employed their tongues in cursing, swearing, lying, and all manner of vile and unclean conversation. Oh! think of this in time, and tremble and repent, and learn to use your tongues to better purpose in future! Read carefully the third chapter of James, and pray to God for his grace, and use your best endeavours to bridle your tongues which, if you do not subdue and conquer, will surely destroy and ruin you. II. Consider, also, what must be the consequence of that unclean and adulterous course of life, which many of you follow. Common as this wickedness is in our colony (I believe no where more so) do not suppose, that the frequency will take away, or in the least abate the criminality of it. Neither suppose that this sin is less odious in the sight of God if committed in Port Jackson, than in England. You may frame excuses or plead necessity, for what you do, or permit to be done; but the word of God by which you must be at last judged, admits, of no plea, or excuse. The command is positive and absolute. The declaration of God, Thou shalt not commit adultery [Exod. xx. 14], is equally binding upon persons of all ranks to whom it is known, at all times, and in all places. Think not, that the holy and just God will dispense with his law, or relax the sentence he has denounced against the breach of it, that you may with impunity indulge your corrupt desires. No; it is written, whoremongers and adulterers God will judge. The apostle declares that no fornicator, adulterer, or unclean person, can enter into the kingdom of God; he repeats this warning nearly in the same words, a second and a third time. The heavens and the earth shall pass away; but not one jot or tittle of his word can fail. All shall be fulfilled [Heb. xiii. 4.; Gal. v. 17-21.; Eph. v. 3-5.]. And therefore, however this sin may be connived at by some, and committed by others, God will severely punish offenders, unless they repent of their wickedness and forsake it. But I need not enlarge upon this subject, I have told you my thoughts of it again and again with faithfulness. It seems the plainness of my language has hurt the delicate feelings of some, and the faithfulness I have used has excited the censure and ill-will of others. But why am I blamed, if I have only affirmed and proved from the scriptures, that no fornicator, adulterer, or unclean person can go to heaven WHEN HE DIES, unless he repents of his evil practices, and turns from them, WHILE HE LIVES? But whether you will hear, or whether you will forbear, I must repeat the unwelcome truth. My conscience, my duty, and my compassion, all urge me to deal faithfully with you. I mean and desire to be understood, and therefore I must speak plainly. It is my intention and desire to awaken and alarm your consciences: but alas! after all I can say or do, I am too little understood or regarded. But I must deliver my own soul, whether you will regard me or not. The day is coming when the Lord himself will judge between you and me. Oh, repent, repent, before it be too late. III. The conduct of too many of you induces me to exhort and caution you farther against theft, and all kinds of dishonesty and villainy. I have often told you, both publicly and privately, that honesty is the best policy. None have more reason to be convinced of this, than you who come hither as convicts. You have known by bitter experience, the unhappy consequences of dishonesty. Have not many of you, for the sake, perhaps, of a few shillings, unjustly obtained, plunged yourselves into misery for the remainder of your lives? Several have made this acknowledgment to me, in their dying moments. Learn therefore, strive, and pray to be honest. Honesty has its present advantages. An honest man, however poor, can face this world with confidence. But a dishonest behaviour, with its constant attendant a guilty conscience, will always fill the mind with fear and dismay. [Job. xxiv. 16,17.] I do not mean, my friends, to reflect harshly upon you for what is past, and cannot be recalled. I pity your past misconduct; I sympathize with you under your present sufferings. And therefore I admonish and caution you to abstain from this course for the time to come. Let then the troubles and afflictions you have brought upon yourselves be a warning, to regulate your future behaviour. Learn to be thankful for what God in his providence gives you, whether it be more or less. Attend to what our Lord says, Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them. And to his apostle's direction, Let him that hath stolen, steal no more, but rather let him labour, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him that needeth [Matt. vii. 12.; Eph. iv. 24.]. Follow this advice, and you will soon experience the benefit. IV. Beware of idleness. This is the forerunner of many evils. Poverty, disease, disgrace, misery, and too often an untimely death, are the consequences of sloth and indolence. Yield not to idleness; if you indulge it, you will find it grow upon you. Therefore, be diligent and industrious in your lawful callings. It is written in the Bible, and confirmed by experience and observation, The idle soul shall suffer hunger, but the soul of the diligent shall be made fat. [Prov. xix. 15. & xiii. 14.] V. Be careful also to pay due respect, submission, and obedience to your superiors. It is the good pleasure of God that some should be placed in more exalted, and others in a more humble station. And it is a proof of his wisdom and goodness. The present state of the world, and the general good of mankind, render such distinctions necessary. But whether we are high or low, whether called to command, or required to obey, our duties and obligations are mutual. It is in society as in the human body. There are many members, and every member has its proper place, and its proper office. Let every soul be subject to the higher powers [Rom. xiii. 1.]. I have thus given you my best advice respecting what you ought to do, or to avoid. Permit me to invite your serious attention to what I have written. Consider it carefully FOR YOUR OWN SAKES. It concerns your PRESENT comfort. For though no works of ours, or what are called, moral virtues, can possibly procure us the favour of God, (for our best services are imperfect and defiled, and need forgiveness) yet that knowledge and experience of the gospel, which I have explained to you in the first part of this Address, (and of which I earnestly pray you may be made partakers) must be accompanied by a correspondent conduct, such as I have set before you in the second part. And this knowledge and this conduct will always be attended, though not always in the same degree, with an inward settled peace, whereby the mind is reconciled to support crosses and afflictions, however great, or of long continuance, with a degree of fortitude and resignation. Persons under this influence will say, when they meet with troubles, I will bear the indignation of the Lord, because I have sinned against him [Micah. vii. 9.]. Should it please God, to answer the earnest desire of my soul, by giving you an experience of the gospel peace, you will thank and praise him, even for bringing you hither; and you will see and confess, that your heaviest afflictions have, in the event, proved to be your greatest mercies. Your FUTURE comfort and welfare in this world, depends upon this knowledge. For though no one knows what may befal him in this life, yet the real christian has the comfort of knowing, that however it may go with the wicked, or whatever may happen to himself of a temporal nature, or whatever may become of his body, he is sure (because God has promised) that it shall be well with his soul at death. Ah! my brethren, then, more especially then, believers will find the advantage of having made the word of God the foundation of their hope, and the rule of their life! Several of you, some to my knowledge, have left affectionate, tender, and serious friends, husbands, wives, parents, brothers, sisters, or children, in your native country, to lament your misconduct, the sufferings you have brought upon yourselves, and the disgrace in which you have involved your families. Let me intreat you, FOR THE SAKE OF THESE, to consider your ways. Great comfort it will afford to those who are now almost overwhelmed with grief on your account, to hear of your reformation and conversion. These would be glad tidings, indeed, from a far country. The hopes they might then form of seeing you again, would be truly pleasing; it would be little less than receiving you again from the dead. Or if they never see you in this world, the prospect of meeting with you in heaven, would add comfort to their dying hours. Oh! let not their prayers and their tears be lost upon you! Attend to these things, FOR THE SAKE OF OTHERS, who may follow you hither, in the like unhappy circumstances. When they see your reformation, and that in consequence of it, you are more comfortable here than you were at home, they may be induced and encouraged to follow your examples. Thus you will be instrumental in saving souls from death. I would farther plead with you, for the sake of the poor unenlightened savages, who daily visit us, or who reside amongst us. If these ignorant natives, as they become more and more acquainted with our language and manners, hear you, many of you, curse, swear, lie, abound in every kind of obscene and profane conversation; and if they observe, that it is common with you to steal, to break the sabbath, to be guilty of uncleanness, drunkenness, and other abominations; how must their minds become prejudiced and their hearts hardened against that pure and holy religion which we profess? Oh beware of laying stumbling-blocks in the way of these blind people [Lev. xix. 14.], lest the blood of their souls be one day required at your hands. And yet I fear, yea, I well know, that they have already heard and seen too much of such language, and such practices amongst us. Already some of them have been taught to speak such language as they continually hear, and though they do not yet understand the meaning of the words they use, they can utter oaths and blasphemies almost as readily as their CHRISTIAN instructors. By-standers divert themselves with their attempts in this way, and think it is fine sport. But, my friends, the scripture declares they are fools who make a mock at sin.[Prov. xiv. 9.] But these things cause much sorrow to those who have any reverence for God, or pity for their fellow creatures. I readily profess my own deep concern for these proceedings, and my utter abhorrence of them. And I most earnestly intreat you, if you cannot instruct them in what is better, to have no communication at all with them. For if you make them partakers of your sins, you must answer for it at the great day of judgment; if they then rise up against you, for misleading them, it will be much more tolerable for them than for you. But consider, on the other hand, what may be the happy effects, were the natives to see, hear, and observe in you, and in all the Europeans here; in ministers and people, high and low, a conduct answerable to the doctrine and precepts of the gospel. This might, by the blessing of God, be one of the most effectual means, to bring them to reflection, and to engage them to seek an interest in the blessings of the gospel for themselves. Shall I beg and intreat you, FOR MY SAKE, to attend to the things pertaining to your true peace. My dear people, I will again declare (I can appeal to the great God, who searcheth the hearts, that I speak the truth) to see you converted from your evil ways, and seeking the salvation of God, Yes, to see you pay a due regard to these most important concerns, and to have reason to hope and believe, that you were brought to a saving acquaintance with the truths which you hear of, or might hear, as often as the Lord's day returns, would indeed greatly rejoice my soul. But to see so many of you turn a careless and deaf ear, this, my dear friends, is a cause of great, constant and increasing grief to my soul. It wounds me to think, that any (alas! what numbers) should thus refuse and reject their own mercies; and risk the ruin of their immortal souls, for the prospect of a small gain, or a short sinful gratification. My brethren, what shall I, what can I say more. I neither know what to add, nor how to leave off: once more, I beseech you, for God's sake, for the sake of Jesus the Saviour, who shed his precious blood to redeem sinners, and for the sake of your own souls: by the holy incarnation of the Redeemer, by his agonies, temptations, death and resurrection, by all the terrors of his frown, and by all the blessings of his love, by the joys of heaven, by the torments of hell, and by the solemnities of the approaching day of judgment; by all these considerations, I most earnestly, affectionately, and faithfully admonish and intreat you, carefully to weigh what I have now set before you. And oh! that the holy angels may carry to heaven the joyful news [Luke xv. 10.] of some sinners being awakened and born to God, by reading or hearing this little book. O gracious God, do thou, by the power of thy Holy Spirit, make it thus effectual to the salvation and happiness of this people! And now to this gracious Lord, and to his care and blessing, I commend you. May he enable you to examine your hearts, principles, and practice, by the standard of his holy word. If you are still ignorant and careless, it is a proof that you are, as yet, in the state of nature, which is a state of darkness, guilt, condemnation, and death. Will you not pray to be delivered from it? You must, at least, allow, that perhaps what you have read, MAY BE the truth. And even, of a possibility of these things being true, they deserve your earnest attention. For should they be found so at last, what will become of you, if you live and die impenitent? Therefore, read this plain, affectionate Address seriously. Read it a second, a third, and a fourth time, till your hearts are affected by it. Remember, this is the advice of a friend, of one who sincerely seeks, wishes, and longs for your happiness. It is the advice of your minister, expressly appointed to watch over your souls, and who must shortly give an account of his mission to the Great judge of all. Whether I shall die amongst you, or be separated from you while living, we shall, at last, meet before him. Then I must answer for my preaching, and you for your hearing. Oh that this awful day of judgment may be often, yea, always, present to your thoughts, and to mine! that we may live in constant expectation of its approach! So that when the last loud trumpet shall sound, we may stand with acceptance and boldness in his presence, and be admitted as believers in the great Saviour, into his heavenly kingdom, with a 'Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.'[Matt. xxv. 23.] This will be my daily prayer to God for you. I shall pray for your eternal salvation, for your present welfare, for the preservation, peace, and prosperity of this colony: and especially for the more abundant and manifest success of the Redeemer's cause and kingdom, and for the effusion and out-pouring of his Holy Spirit, not only here, but in every part of the habitable globe. Longing, hoping, and waiting for the dawn of that happy day, when the heathen shall be given to the Lord Jesus for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for his possession: and when all the ends of the earth shall see, believe, and rejoice in the salvation of God. [Ps. ii. 8. & xcviii. 3.] I am your affectionate Friend and Servant in the Gospel of Christ, RICHARD JOHNSON. FINIS. 
44439	----	Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). * * * * * [Illustration: cover] [Illustration: titlepage] The World's Great Sermons VOLUME VI H. W. BEECHER TO PUNSHON THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS COMPILED BY GRENVILLE KLEISER Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in Public," Etc. With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other Theologians INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D. Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University IN TEN VOLUMES VOLUME VI--H. W. BEECHER TO PUNSHON FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY NEW YORK and LONDON COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY _Printed in the United States of America_ CONTENTS VOLUME VI Page H. W. BEECHER (1813-1887). Immortality 1 CHAPIN (1814-1880). Nicodemus: The Seeker after Religion 27 STANLEY (1815-1881). In Memoriam--Thomas Carlyle 51 VAUGHAN (1816-1897). God Calling to Man 67 NEWMAN HALL (1816-1902). Christian Victory 85 ROBERTSON (1816-1853). The Loneliness of Christ 111 HITCHCOCK (1817-1887). Eternal Atonement 131 KINGSLEY (1819-1875). The Shaking of the Heavens and the Earth 147 CAIRD (1820-1898). Religion in Common Life 167 STORRS (1821-1900). The Permanent Motive in Missionary Work 195 PUNSHON (1824-1881). Zeal in the Cause of Christ 219 HENRY WARD BEECHER IMMORTALITY BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE HENRY WARD BEECHER, preacher, orator, lecturer, writer, editor, and reformer, was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, in 1813. He was by nature and training a great pulpit orator. Mr. Beecher kept himself in perfect physical condition for his work. He has described a course of vocal exercises which he pursued in the open air for a period of three years. "The drill I underwent," he says, "produced, not a rhetorical manner, but a flexible instrument, that accommodated itself readily to every kind of thought and every shape of feeling." He had deep sympathy for all men, and this with his intense dramatic power often carried him into the wildest and most exalted flights of oratory. Phillips Brooks styled him the greatest preacher in America, and he is generally regarded as the most highly gifted of modern preachers. He was fearless, patriotic, clear-headed, witty, and self-sacrificing. Dr. Wilkinson calls him "the greatest pulpit orator the world ever saw." He died in 1887. H. W. BEECHER 1813-1887 IMMORTALITY[1] [1] From "Plymouth Pulpit Sermons." By permission of the Congregational Sunday-School and Publishing Society. _If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable._--1 Cor. xv., 19. This is not the declaration of a universal principle: it is biographical and personal. And yet, there is in it a principle of prime importance. It is true that Paul and his compeers had sacrificed everything that was dear to man for the sake of Christ. Paul had given up the place that he held among his countrymen, and the things which surely awaited him. He had consented to be an exile. Loving Palestine and the memory of his fathers, as only a Jew could love, he found himself an outcast, and despised everywhere by his own people. And the catalog that he gives of the sufferings which he felt keenly; which perhaps would not have been felt by a man less susceptible than he, but which were no less keen in his case--that catalog shows how much he had given up for Christ. And if it should turn out that after all he had followed a mere fable, a myth; that Christ was but a man; that, dying, He had come to an end; that He stayed dead, and that there was no resurrection, no future, but only that past through which he waded, and that present in which he was suffering, then, surely, it would be true that of all men he was most miserable. This is the biographical view; but it may be said of all men, in this respect, that no persons can so ill afford to lose faith of immortality as those who have had all their affections burnished, deepened and rendered sensitive by the power of Christianity. When Christianity has had the education of generation after generation, and has shaped the style of its manhood, and ordained the institutions by which its affections have been enlarged and purified; when, in short, generations of men have been legitimately the children of Christianity, to take away from them the faith of immortality would be a cruelty which could have no parallel in the amount of suffering which it would entail. It is not necessarily true that men without a hope of Christianity would have no incitement to virtue--certainly not in the ordinary way in which it is put to us. Abstractly, it is said that virtue is its own reward--and it is. If there was enough of it to amount to anything, it would be a great, an exceeding great, reward; but where it is a spark; a germ; where it is struggling for its own existence; where it bears but a few ripe fruits, the reward is hardly worth the culture. If all that we get is what we have in this life, it is but little. Many men are favorably organized and favorably situated; they have an unyearning content; things seem good enough for them; and they do not understand why it is that persons should desire immortality and glory--that is, at first. In general, I think there are few persons that live long in life who do not, sooner or later, come to a point in which they wake up to the consciousness of a need of this kind. It is not always true in the case of persons of refined moral and intellectual culture that they are conscious of needing a belief in immortality; but a belief in immortality is the unavoidable result and the indispensable requirement of all true manhood. When you look at growth, not in each particular case, but largely, as it develops itself in communities; when you consider it, not only in a single individual, but in whole communities, as they develop from childhood to manhood, or from barbarism through semi-civilization to civilization and refinement, the law of development is always away from animal life and its sustaining appetites and passions toward the moral and the intellectual. That is the direction in which unfolding takes place. The naturalist watches the insect, and studies all the stages through which it goes, till it becomes a perfect insect. We look at a seed, and see how it develops stem and leaf and blossom all the way through, till we find out what the plant is in its final and perfect condition. And in studying men to know what is the perfect condition of manhood, looking at them from the beginning to the end, which way does manhood lie, in the direction of the bodily appetites and senses, or in the other direction? Men come into life perfect animals. There is very little that culture does in that direction, giving them a little more or a little less use of themselves, as the case may be. That which we mean when we speak of developing manhood in a child, is something more than the development of symmetry of form and power of physical organization. When we speak of the civilization and refinement of the race at large, development does not mean bodily power or bodily skill: it means reason; moral sense; imagination; profounder affection; subtler, purer, sweeter domestic relations. Manhood grows away from bodily conditions, without ever leaving them. The body becomes a socket, and the soul is a lamp in it. And if you look narrowly at what we mean by growth in mankind, whether it be applied to the individual or to the race, you will find that we mean an unfolding which takes a man away from the material toward that which is subtler, more spiritual, existing outside of the ordinary senses, tho acting from them, as something better than bone and muscle, nerve and tissue. All development, then, is from the animal toward the spiritual and the invisible. This is the public sentiment of mankind even in the lower forms of society. What are considered heroic traits, the things which bring admiration to men, if narrowly examined will be found to be not the things which belong to men as brutes--tho these things may be employed by them as instruments. Even in the cases of such men as Samson and Hercules, who were rude, brute men, it was not their strength that drew admiration to them: it was their heroism; it was their patriotism; it was that which they did by their strength for their kind, and not for themselves. And in lower societies it is courage, it is self-devotion, it is the want of fear, it is the higher form of animal life, that attracts admiration. But as we develop out of barbarous into civilized conditions, we admire men, not because they can lift so much, or throw such heavy weights, or endure such hardships of body. Admiration on these accounts has its place; but higher than these is the power of thought, the power of planning, the power of executing, the power of living at one point so as to comprehend in the effects produced all circuits of time in the future. Thought-power; emotion; moral sense; justice; equity in all its forms; higher manhood, and its branches, which stretch up into the atmosphere and reach nearest to the sun--these are something other than those qualities which develop earliest, and are lowest--nearest to the ground. True manhood, then, has its ripeness in the higher faculties. Without disdaining the companionship of the body the manhood of man grows away from it--in another direction. There is not simply the ripening of the physical that is in man; but there is, by means of the physical, the ripening of the intellectual, the emotional, the moral, the esthetic life, as well as the whole spiritual nature. When reason and moral sense are developed, there will inevitably spring up within a man an element the value of which consists in perpetuating things--in their continuance. It is spontaneous and universal for one to seek to perpetuate, to extend life. I do not mean by this that one wants to live a great while; but men are perpetually under the unconscious influence of this in their nature: the attempt to give form and permanence to that which is best in their manhood. We build, to be sure, primarily, to cover ourselves from the elements; but we very soon cease to build for that only: we not merely build for protection from cold and from wet, but we build for gratification. We build to gratify the sense of beauty, the sense of convenience, and the sense of love. And we go on beyond that: we build in order that we may send down to those who are to come after us a memorial of our embodied, incarnated thoughts. In other words, when men build, they seek, by incarnation, to render things permanent which have existed only as thoughts or transient emotions. There is a tendency to incarnate the fugitive elements in men, and give them permanence. And the element of continuing is one of the elements which belong to the higher manhood. This throws light upon the material growths of society. Men strive to perpetuate thoughts and feelings which are evanescent unless they are born into matter. Men build things for duration. There is this unconscious following out of things to make them last; to give them long periods. And it opens up to men the sense of their augmented being. Largeness of being is indissolubly connected with extended time of being. We admire the pyramids, not because they have been associated with so many histories, but because they have stood so many ages. We admire old trees, not because so many tribes have sat under them, nor because so many events have taken place beneath them, but simply because they have age with them. For there are mute, inexplicable feelings connected with the mere extension of time which belong to the higher development of manhood in us. Frangible things are of less value than things that are infrangible. Things that last are of more value, on the same plane, than their congeners are that do not last. Who can equal the pictures which are painted on the panes of glass in our winter rooms? Where can you find a Lambineau, or any painter who can give a mountain scenery such as we have for nothing, every morning, when we wake up, and such as the sun outside, or the stove inside, destroys before ten o'clock? These pictures are not valued as are those which are painted on canvas, and which are not half so good; but the element of enduring is with the latter, while the element of evanescence is with the former. Tho the pictures on the pane are finer than those on the canvas, they lack the element of time, on which value so largely depends. The soul craves, hungers for, this quality of continuance as an element for measuring the value of things. This element of time is somewhat felt in the earlier conditions of humanity; but it grows with the development of men, and attaches itself to every part of human life. I never saw a diamond that was so beautiful as are the dew-drops which I see on my lawn in summer. What is the difference between a dew-drop and a diamond? One goes in a moment; it flashes and dies; but the other endures; and its value consists in its endurance. There are hundreds of things which are as beautiful as a diamond in their moment; but the endurance of the diamond is measured by ages, and not by moments, and so carries on the value. I do not draw these reasonings very close as yet--I do not desire to put too much emphasis upon them; but I think you will see that there is a drift in them, and that they will bear, at last, an important relation to this question of immortality. The element of manhood carries with it a very powerful sense of the value of existence. The desire to live is a blind instinct. A happy experience brings to this instinct many auxiliaries--the expectation of pleasure; the wish to complete unfinished things; the clinging affection to those that have excited love; and habits of enterprise. Besides all these, is a development of the sense of value in simply being. We have said that in external matters the continuity of being is an element of value in the judgment which mankind at large have put upon things. We say that the same is true in respect to the inward existence--to manhood itself. The savage cares very little for life. He lives for to-day; and in every to-day he lives for the hour. Time is of the least importance to him. The barbarian differs from the savage in this: that he lives to-day for to-morrow, perhaps, but not for next year. The semi-civilized man lives for next year; but only for the year, or for years. The civilized man begins to live in the present for the future. And the Christian civilized man begins to live with a sense of the forever. The extension of the sense of time goes on with the development of manhood in men. The sweet, the tender, the loving, the thoughtful, the intellectual, live not simply with a sense of life as a pleasure-bringer: there grows up in them, with their development toward manhood, an intrinsic sense of the value of being itself. The soul knows the cargo that it carries. It knows that that cargo is destined to immortality. As men are conscious of seeing more, of thinking more, and of feeling more; as thought becomes more precious; as emotion becomes deeper and more valuable; so men more and more feel that they cannot afford to have such things go to waste. A man who takes in his hands a lump of mud and molds it to some pleasing form, cares but little when, dropping it, he sees it flatten on the ground. The man that grinds a crystal, and sees it broken, thinks of it for a moment, perhaps, with regret, but soon forgets it. No one, however, can see an organized thing, having its uses, and indicating exquisite skill and long experience, dashed to pieces without pain. But what is anything that is organized in life worth in comparison with the soul of a man? And if that soul be pure, and sweet, and deep, and noble, and active, and fruitful, who can, without a pang, look at it, and think that it must in an instant go to nothing, dissolving again as an icicle from a roof in the spring? The feeling is not the fruit of mere reflection. It is instinctive. It is universal. Men do not cultivate it on purpose. They cannot help having it. No man of moral culture can regard human life as without immortality except with profound melancholy. No man that is susceptible to reflectiveness can bear to think of man's existence here without the bright background of another life. The sense of the continuity of existence is grounded in men, and grows with their refinement and development and strength, and gives color to their life, and change to their opinions, it may be. To men who have developed moral sense and intellectual culture, every element of value in life is made precious by some conscious or some unconscious element of time and continuance. It is the nature of our better faculties, in their better states, to place a man in such relations to everything that is most precious to him, that it gives him pleasure in the proportion in which it seems to be continuous and permanent, and gives him pain in the proportion in which it seems to be evanescent and perishing. We are building a crystal character with much pain and self-denial; and it is to be built as bubbles are blown? What is finer in line than the bubble? What is more airy? Where are pictures more exquisite, where are colors more tender and rich and beautiful--and where is there anything that is born so near to its end as a bubble? Is the character which we are building with so much pain and suffering and patience, with so much burden of conscience, and with so much aspiration; is the character which we are forming in the invisible realm of the soul--is that but a bubble? Is that only a thin film which reflects the transient experiences of a life of joy or sadness, and goes out? Then, what is life worth? If I had no function but that of a pismire; if I were a beetle that rolled in the dirt, and yet were clothed with a power of reflection, and knew what the depths of feeling were, what intense emotions were, and what struggling and yearning were; if, being a mere insect, I had all the works in the intellect of man, and all the aspiration that goes with spiritual elements; if I were but a leaf-cutter, a bug in the soil, or about the same thing on a little larger pattern, and were to be blotted out at death, what would be the use of my trying to grow? If by refining and whetting our faculties they become more susceptible to pleasure, they become equally susceptible to pain. And in this great, grinding, groaning world, pain is altogether out of proportion to pleasure, in an exquisite temperament. The finer men are the better they are, if they are forever; but the finer men are the worse they are if they are only for a day; for they have a disproportion of sensibility to suffering over and above present remuneration and conscious enjoyment. Men feel an intrinsic sense of personality and personal worth. They have self-esteem, which is the only central, spinal, manly faculty which gives them a sense of personal identity and personal value, and which is an auxiliary counselor of conscience itself. This sense of "I" demands something more than a short round of physical life, to be followed by extinction. I am too valuable to perish so; and every step in life has been training me in the direction of greater value. As men grow broader, and stronger, and finer, and deeper, and sweeter, they become more and more conscious of the intrinsic value of their being, and demand for themselves a harbor in order that they may not be wrecked or foundered. Nor do I think that there can be found, to any considerable extent, or developed, friendships which shall not, with all their strength and with all their depth, resist the conception of dissolution or of fading. For friendships are not casual likings. Friendships are not merely the interchange of good nature, and the ordinary friendly offices of good neighborhood. These things are friendly, but they do not comprise friendship. Two trees may grow contiguous, and throw their shade one over upon the other; but they never touch nor help each other; and their roots quarrel for the food that is in the ground. But two vines, growing over a porch, meet each other, and twine together, and twist fiber into fiber and stem into stem, and take shape from each other, and are substantially one. And such are friendships. Now, one cannot have his life divided as two trees are. He cannot enter into partnership with others, and be conscious that that partnership shall be but for an hour or for a moment. The sanctity, the honor, the exaltation, the exhilaration of a true and manly friendship lies in the thought of its continuance. There can be no deep friendship which does not sign for endlessness. Still more is this true of love: not that rudimentary form which seeks lower fruitions, and which is often but little more than passion done up in friendship; but that higher love which manifests itself chiefly in the spiritual realm; that love which is not forever asking, but forever giving; that love which is not centripetal, but centrifugal; that love which, like a mother's, gives for the pleasure of giving; that love which reveres; that love which looks up; that love which seeks to exalt its object by doing what is pleasant and noble; that love which demands continuance, elevation, yea, grandeur, it may be, in the thing beloved. How little will such a love tolerate the idea of evanescence, the dread of discontinuing! Can such a love do other than yearn for immortality? So then, if you take the thought, it is this: that if men develop, they come under the dominion of higher faculties; and that it is then their nature to stamp on all their occupations, on their self-consciousness, on the whole development of their affections, the need of continuance, of immortality. There are, therefore, in the growth of the mind itself, as a department of nature, these elements of conviction. The mind cannot do other than develop in itself a faith in immortality. It may be said, and it sometimes is said, that the origin of the belief of existence out of the body, of spiritual existence, may be traced directly back to the dreams of the barbarous ages, to a period when men were so low that they did not recognize the difference between a dream and a waking reality--to a time when persons dreamed that their friends came back to them, and waked up and believed that they had been back. Thus, it is said, began the thought of continuity of life after death. For my part, I do not care how it began. The question is not how it started; the question is, What becomes of it now that it has begun? No matter how it was born, what purpose is it to serve? What is it adapted to do? How is it calculated to influence our manhood? In what way shall it be employed to lead man God-ward? How shall it be used to work most effectually in the direction of civilization and refinement? It so fits every human soul, that men will not let it go. They cling to it with their inward and best nature. All experiences of human life fall in with this tendency of the mind. When men look out upon the incoherent and unmannerly course of things in time, I can understand how, believing in the future, they may live with patience; but in every age of the world where the clear light of immortality has not shone, men have mostly been discouraged, have been generally indifferent to public superiority, and have taken no interest in things done for the sake of humanity. Such is the worthlessness of time, to the thought of those that have no faith in the future, that they have cared for little except present physical enjoyment. And on the whole, when such men crowd together, and tribes take the place of individuals, or kingdoms take the place of tribes, with all their complications in the working out of their clashing results, they look upon human life, and feel that the world is not worth living for. Things are so uncertain, products are in such disproportion to their causes, or to the expectations of men, that if there is to be nothing but this life, then, "Eat, drink and be merry, for to-morrow we die," is not only the philosophy of the epicurean, but the temptation of the most wise and frugal and self-restraining. The nature of life to a man who is highly educated requires that he should believe in the continuity and existence of the myriads that he sees in such a state of quarreling infelicity and wretchedness in this mortal condition. The utter futility of the best part of man's life here, the total bankruptcy of his best endeavors, the worthlessness of his career from the material standpoint, makes it imperative on him to believe that he shall have another chance in another sphere of being. Is it enough to have been born, to have lived till one is of age, and then to be launched out to founder in mid-ocean? Is it enough that one should devote the best part of his life to the building of a character, only to see the fabric which he has constructed tumbling about his ears? Is this enough in the day of distress and bankruptcy? Is it enough, in the time when a man's ambitions are crossed, and the sky is dark, and he can do nothing but stand amid the ruins of his hopes and expectations? Is not the thought revolting to every instinct of manhood? But if there is another life; if all our labor has this value in it, that while a man is building up his outward estate, if it is certain that the man himself will live, no matter what becomes of his property and his reputation, then all his endeavors have endless scope, and his life becomes redeemable and radiant. Nowhere else so much as in the realm of grief, I think, is the question of immortality interpreted. It is true that the first shock of overwhelming grief sometimes drives faith out of the mind; that it sometimes staggers the reason; that it sometimes dispossesses the moral sense of its accustomed health, and leaves the mind in weakness. As in a fever, the natural eye can see nothing aright, and things then seem to dance in the air, and take on grotesque forms, so persons who are bewildered with first sorrow oftentimes see things amiss. And there is no skepticism which is so deep and pulseless as that which often takes possession of people in the first great overmastering surprize and shock of grief. But after one had recovered a little, and the nerve has come to its wonted sensibility, the faith of immortality returns. There is that in every soul which knows what is the strength of life and noble deeds and aspirations; and therefore there is that in every soul which calls out for immortality. I cannot believe, I will not believe, when I walk upon the clod, that it is my mother that I tread under foot. She that bore me, she that every year more than gave birth to me out of her own soul's aspiration--I will not believe that she is dust. Everything within me revolts at the idea. Do two persons walk together in an inseparable union, mingling their brightest and noblest thoughts, striving for the highest ideal, like flowers that grow by the side of each other, breathing fragrance each on the other, and shining in beauty each for the other; are two persons thus twined together and bound together for life, until in some dark hour one is called and the other is left; and does the bleeding heart go down to the grave and say, "I return dust to dust?" Was that dust, then? That trustworthiness; that fidelity; that frankness of truth; that transparent honesty; that heroism of love; that disinterestedness; that fitness and exquisiteness of taste; that fervor of love; that aspiration; that power of conviction; that piety; that great hope in God--were all these elements in the soul of the companion that had disappeared but just so many phenomena of matter? And have they already collapsed and gone, like last year's flowers struck with frost, back again to the mold? In the grief of such an hour one will not let go the hope of resurrection. Can a parent go back from the grave where he has laid his children and say, "I shall never see them more?" Even as far back as the dim twilight in which David lived, he said, "Thou shalt not come to me, but I shall go to thee"; and is it possible for the parental heart to stand in our day by the side of the grave, where the children have been put out of sight, and say, "They neither shall come to me, nor shall I go to them; they are blossoms that have fallen; they never shall bring forth fruit"? It is unnatural. It is hideous. Everything that is in man, every instinct that is best in human nature repels it. Is not the human soul, then, itself a witness of the truth of immortality? Men say, "You cannot prove it. There is no argument that can establish it. No man has seen it, and it cannot be substantiated. It is not a ponderable thing." Men demand that we should prove things by straight lines; by the alembic; by scales; by analysis; but I say that there is much in nature which is so high that scales and rules and alembics cannot touch it. And is not man's soul a part of nature--the highest part? I hold that even the materialist may believe in immortality. For, altho there is a gross kind of materialism, there may be a materialism which is consistent with a belief in immortality. Because, on the supposition that the mind is matter, it must be admitted that it is incomparably superior to any other matter that we are familiar with. Is there any matter outside of mind that produces thought and feeling such as we see evolved among men? If it be the theory that mind is matter, and if the matter of which the mind is composed be so far above all other kinds of matter in its fruit and product, is it not on so high a plane as presumably not to be subject to the lower and coarser forms of examination and test? I know no reason why cerebral matter may not be eternal. I do not belong to those who take that material view of the mind; but I do not know that immortality is inconsistent even with materialism; and how much more easily may it be reconciled to the view of those who believe in the ineffable character, the imponderable, spiritual condition, of the soul! In addition to these arguments, when we come to the Word of God, we hear the voices of those who sang and chanted in the past. We hear the disciple crying out, "Christ is risen!" and we hear the apostle preaching this new truth to mankind. So that now the heavens have been broken open. The secrets of the other life have been revealed. And is there not a presumption, following the line of a man's best manhood, that immortality is true? Does one need to go into a rigorous logical examination of this subject? Should one stand jealously at the side of the sepulcher of Christ, and examine this matter as a policeman examines the certificate of a suspected man, or as one takes money from the hand of a cheating usurer and goes out to see if it is gold? Shall one stand at the door from which issue all the hopes that belong to the best part of man; shall one look upon that which is demanded by the very nature of his better manhood, and question it coldly, and tread it under foot? What do we gain by obliterating this fair vision? Why should not heaven continue to shine on? Why should we not look into it, and believe that it is, and that it waits for us? Have we not the foretokens of it? Is not the analogy of the faculties one that leads us to believe that there is some such thing? Does not the nature of every man that is high and noble revolt at flesh and matter? Are they not rising toward the ineffable? Are not all the intuitions and affections of men such that, the better they are, the more they have of things that are manly, the more indispensable it is that they should have endurance, etherealization, perpetuation? The heart and flesh cry out for God. They cry out for immortality. Not only does the Spirit from the heavenly land say to every toiling, yearning, anxious soul, "Come up hither," but every soul that is striving upward has in it, if not a vocalized aspiration, yet a mute yearning--a voice of the soul--that cries out for heaven, "As the hart panteth after the waterbrooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God!" On such a day as this, then, in a community of moral feeling, how blest is the truth which comes to us, that we are not as the beasts that die; that we are as the gods that live! That for which we were made is immortality; and our journey is rough, straight, sharp, burdensome, with many tears. Our journey is not to the grave. I am not growing into old age to be blind, and to be deaf, and to be rheumatic, and to shrink a miserable cripple into the corner, shaking and tottering and forgetting all that I ever knew. The best part of me is untouched. The soul; the reason; the moral sense; the power to think; the power to will; the power to love; the power to admire purity, and to reach out after it--that is not touched by time, tho its instrument and means of outer demonstration be corroded and failing. No physical weakness touches the soul. Only the body is touched by sickness. And shake that down! Shake it down! Let it go! For, as the chrysalis bursts open, and the covering which confines the perfected insect is dropt, that he may come out into brightness of form and largeness of life, so this body is but a chrysalis; and when we break through it, we rise on wings by the attraction of God, and by the propulsion of our own inevitable desire and need, and are forever with the Lord. CHAPIN NICODEMUS: THE SEEKER AFTER RELIGION BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE EDWIN HUBBELL CHAPIN, Universalist divine, was born in Union Village, Washington County, N. Y., in 1814. He began his very successful ministry 1837 in Richmond, Va., subsequently he preached in Charlestown, Mass., from which place he was called to the pastorate of the Fourth Universalist Church in New York City. His preaching attracted large congregations, and he was generally regarded as one of the greatest preachers of this country. He spoke from a manuscript, using no gesture, but his magnetic personality never failed to drive his message home. He published numerous volumes of sermons and lectures. He died in 1880. CHAPIN 1814-1880 NICODEMUS: THE SEEKER AFTER RELIGION _There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews: The same came to Jesus by night._--John iii., 1, 2. Altho we have but few glimpses of Nicodemus in the gospels, he is a personage of peculiar interest. A Pharisee, and a member of the great Jewish senate, or Sanhedrin, he shows us that the influence of Christ was not limited to the poor and the obscure; but that, while His words and works awoke enmity and fear among the higher classes, they struck, in the breasts of some of these, a holier chord. It may not be certain that Nicodemus ever openly confest Christ; yet, in this chapter, he appears in the attitude of a disciple, and we find him defending Jesus before the Sanhedrin, and assisting at His burial. Still, unless the last-mentioned act be considered as such, we do not discover, in his conduct, that public and decisive acknowledgment which the Savior required; we do not behold the frank avowal of Peter, or the intrepidity of Paul. There is an air of caution and of timidity about him. He carefully feels the ground of innovation, before he lets go the establishment; and, indeed, he appears to have taken no step by which he forfeited his caste or his office. It is difficult, too, to discover the precise purpose of this visit to Jesus. Perhaps he sought the interview from mixed motives. A religious earnestness, kindled by the teachings and the character of Christ, may have blended with speculative curiosity, and even with the throbbings of political ambition. His coming by night, too, may have indicated timidity, or he may have chosen that season as the best time for quiet and uninterrupted discourse. But, whatever may have been his motives, the position in which we find him shows, I repeat, that the power of Christ's ministry was felt, not only by the excitable multitude, but by the more thoughtful and devout of the Jewish people. Nicodemus, however, presents a peculiar interest, not only because he exhibits the influence of Jesus upon the higher orders of his nation, but because he appears as a seeker after religion, and as one personally interested in its vital truths. His interview with the Savior gives occasion for one of the most important passages in the New Testament. The conversation of Christ, in this instance, is not uttered in general principles and accommodated to the multitude, but it is directed to an intelligent and inquiring spirit, in the calm privacy of the night-time laying bare its very depths, and craving the application of religion to its own peculiar wants. To be sure, Nicodemus did not profess this want, but commenced the conversation with the language of respect, and with suggestion of more general inquiry. But He who "knew what was in man," had already penetrated the folds of the ruler's breast, and saw the real need that had sent him; so, putting by all compliments, and all secondary issues, He struck at once the conscious chord that throbbed there, and exclaimed: "Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God!" These words must have filled Nicodemus with surprize, both from their sudden heart-searchingness, and as addressing to him a term which was usually applied to men of very different condition. For the phrase, "new birth," was a customary one to express the change through which the Gentile passed in becoming a Jew. But it was indeed a strange doctrine that he, a son of Abraham, a Pharisee, a ruler, must be born again, before he could be fit for the Messiah's kingdom. Therefore, really or affectedly, he misunderstood the Savior's words, and gave to a phrase, plain enough when applied to a heathen, the most gross and literal interpretation. But Christ reiterated the solemn truth assuring him that an inward change, and an outward profession, a regeneration of the affections and the will, and a renunciation of pride and fear, by the symbol of baptism--a new birth of water and of the Spirit--was essential to true discipleship. And thus, stripping away all the reliances of formal righteousness, and all the supports of birth and position, in reply to the earnest question of Nicodemus: "How can these things be?" the great Teacher proceeded to utter some of the sublimest doctrines of the gospel. As I have already said, whether Nicodemus became an avowed follower of Jesus, or not, is uncertain; but we know that the truths which he then heard are of everlasting importance, have a personal application to every man, and appeal to wants in our own souls, which are as real and as deep as those of the ruler of old. But while thus Nicodemus exhibits a need of our common humanity, he especially represents a class who may be called "seekers after religion," either as being unsettled and inquiring in their spirits, or as resting upon something which is not religion, but only, perhaps, a tendency toward it--they are seekers after it, as not having actually found it. In other words, for this class, religion has its meaning and its pressure; they think about it, and they feel its claims, yet they do not thoroughly and mentally know it; or, like Nicodemus, they rest upon some substitute. Some of these positions I propose now to illustrate. I observe, then, in the first place, that some seek religion in rituals and sacraments. The tendency of the human mind, as to matters of faith and devotion, has always been to complicate rather than to simplify, and to associate these with set forms and symbols. In all ages, men have shrunk from naked communion with God, from the solitude of an intense spirituality, and have conducted transactions with the Invisible, through the mediation of ceremony. But that which, at first, was an expression of the individual soul, has grown into a fixed and consecrated rite. Gestures and modes of worship, suggested by the occasion, have been repeated in usage, and grown venerable with age, until they have become identified with religion itself. They have been exalted into mystic vehicles of grace, have been considered as possessing virtue in themselves, and as constituting an awful paraphernalia, through which, alone, God will deign to communicate with man, and through which man may even propitiate and move God. Christianity has not escaped this tendency; and, even now, there are many with whom the sacraments are something more than expressive signs and holy suggestions, and with whom the position of an altar, the shape of a vestment, and the form of a church are among the essentials of religion. With such, baptism speaks, not merely to the eye of an inward washing, but it is of itself a regenerative process. In their view, the communion bread is not simply a representation of the broken body of the Redeemer; but is itself so sacred, so identical with that body, that they must receive it by a special posture, and upon a particular part of the hand. As a matter of course, to such, religion must appear eminently conservative and retrospective; the genius of the established and the past, rather than of the reformatory and the future. Cherishing the minutest fibers of these ancient rites, they chiefly venerate the men who authenticate them, and the soil out of which they grow. With them, the fluent spirit of religion became organized, and fixt into a form, with fast-days and feast-days, with miter and cassock, and a lineal priesthood, ages ago. It cannot be said that this method is entirely unfounded. It has its justification in human nature, if not elsewhere. There are those who can find peace only in the arms of an hereditary faith: who can feel the inspiration of worship only among forms that have kindled worship in others for a thousand years: with whose earliest thoughts and dearest memories is entwined a ritual and an established church, so that personal affection and household sanctity, as well as religious feeling, demand that every great act of life--of joy or sorrow--should be consecrated, by the familiar sacrament. For that church, too, their fathers have died in darker times, and beneath its chancels, sainted mothers molder into dust. All, too, that can exalt the ideal, or wake the pulses of eloquent emotion, is connected with such a church. To them it opens a traditional perspective, the grandest in all history. Behind its altars, sweep the vestments of centuries of priests, and rises the incense of centuries of prayer. In its stony niches, stand rows of saints, who have made human life sublime, and who, through all the passing ages, look down upon the turmoil of that life with the calm beatitude of heaven; while its flushed windows still keep the blood-stain of its own martyrs, plashed against it ere yet it had become an anchored fact, and while it tossed upon the stormy waves of persecution. I can understand, then, how an imaginative and reverential mind can find the truest religious life only in connection with ritual and sacrament. I can understand, moreover, the reaction in this direction, which is taking place at the present day. It is the retreat of the religious sentiments from the despotism of an imperious reason. It is the counter-protest of loyal affections against what is deemed an anarchical tendency. It is the clinging of men's sympathies to the concrete, alarmed by the irreverent and analytic methods of science. It is the retirement of faith and devotion to those cloistered sanctities that shut out the noise of the populace, and the diversions of the street. It is the reluctance of taste and imagination at our new and varnished Protestantism, with its bare walls, its cold services, and its angular churches, of which one wing, perchance, rests upon a market, and the other upon a dram-shop. Especially would I not deny the profound spiritual life, the self-sacrifice, and the beautiful charities which have consisted at all times, and which consist in the present time, with this ritual and sacramental form of religion. But when men claim that this alone is the genuine form--that these are essentials of the only true Church--then I deny that claim. If it fills some wants of our nature, it repudiates others equally authentic. If one class of minds find peace only under its consecrated shadows, others find no satisfaction but in the discipline of a spontaneous devotion, and the exercise of an individual reason. If it suffices for men like Borromeo or Newman, it does not suffice for men like George Fox or Channing; and the religion of these is as evident, in their simple spirituality, as those in their mystic symbolism. When it sneers at the Puritan, then I must vindicate that rugged independence of soul, that faithfulness of the individual conscience, that sense of the divine sovereignty, which could kneel at no man's altar, and to God alone; which sacrificed all things for the right, but yielded not a hair to the wrong; which could find no medicine for the spirit in sacraments, but only in the solitude of the inner life; and which has, under God, wrought out this noble consummation of modern times, whereby others may plant their vine of ritual under the broad heaven of toleration, and have liberty to sneer. When the ritualist deprecates the ultraism and irreverence of the anti-formalist, I must urge the tendency of his own principles to mummery and absolutism. And, finally, when he falls back upon tradition, I must fall back upon the Bible. The spirit of the New Testament is not that of rituals or sacraments; and the universal sentiments of the Old are not. The prophet Isaiah, who exclaims: "Bring no more vain oblations; incense is an abomination unto me; your new moons, and your appointed feasts, my soul hateth.... Wash you, make you clean ... cease to do evil, learn to do well!" joins with the apostle, who says that Christ "blotted out the handwriting of ordinances ... nailing it to his cross," and that no man should judge us in meat or drink, or times, or seasons. And surely, there is no argument for forms or places in those Divine Words, which declare that "God is a Spirit, and they who worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth." We cannot deny, then, that pure religion may consist with rituals and sacraments; we cannot deny that it may exist without these. But I insist upon this point: that the sacrament, the ritual, is not, itself, religion. It may be a beautiful sign--it may be a quick suggestion--it may be a medium of spiritual influence; but, alone, it cannot take the place of inward, personal piety, of right affections and an obedient will. No punctilious form can stand substitute for a vigilant conscience; no posture of devotion can supply the place of living deeds; no ascetic mortification can atone for guilt; no auricular confession can speak, instead of the breathings of repentance, in the ear of God, and out from the depths of the solitary soul. He who relies upon these forms, and finds sanctity only in them, may be sincere, may be serious about religion, but as yet he is only a seeker; and, speaking to his heart with all-penetrating meaning, comes to him the decree: "Ye must be born again." Again; there is a class who seek religion in philosophy. They believe in God by a course of reasoning. They believe in immortality, because it is a conclusion riveted in their minds by the iron links of induction. They pray, or not, according as it seems logical to do so. They would be good, because goodness is useful. But every proposition upon which they act, must first be strained through the alembic of the intellect, and must stand out in the clear definition of science. They verify and build up their religion with callipers and dissecting-knife. It is a system of digestion and pneumatology. They find an organ for veneration, and another for conscientiousness, and therefore conclude that religion has a legitimate place in the harmony of human character. But all must be calm and balanced. They dare not trust the feelings and give but little scope to enthusiasm. Sometimes, indeed, they rise to eloquence in expatiating upon the truths of natural theology, and of "the elder Scripture"; tho they believe in Christ also, because He seems well authenticated as an historical fact. In short, such men are religious like Cicero, or Seneca, with some modification from modern science and from the Sermon on the Mount. Now there is a close alliance between true philosophy and true religion. That the New Testament is eminently free from fanaticism, and makes no appeal to mere credulity, any one will see who examines. That it is rational and sober, constitutes one of its great internal evidences. A Christian philosopher is no anomaly, but a beautiful expression of the essential harmony of all truth. Knowledge and piety burn and brighten with an undivided flame. Revelation and science are continually interpreting one another, while every day the material universe is unfolding a more spiritual significance, and indicating its subservience to a spiritual end. But, after all, in order to be religious, it is not necessary that a man should be a philosopher, and it is certain that often he is a philosopher without being religious. Religion and philosophy may coalesce, but they are two different spheres. Philosophy is out-looking and speculative; religion is inner and vital. In the scheme of philosophy, religion is reasoned out as a consequence, and adopted as an appendage to character. In the true scheme, it is the central germ of our being, the controlling force of life. The religion of philosophy consists of right views of things, and a prudential schooling of the passions. True religion consists in a right state of the affections, and a renunciation of self. In the one case, religion may "play round the head, but come not near the heart"; in the other, it breaks up the great deep of conscience, and pours an intense light upon the springs of motive. Philosophy contains the idea of intellectual rectitude; religion, of moral obedience. Philosophy speaks of virtue; religion, of holiness. Philosophy rests upon development; religion requires regeneration. In short, we make an every-day distinction between the two which is far more significant than any verbal contrast. It is the one, rather than the other, that we apply, in the profounder experiences of our moral nature, in the consciousness of sin and in the overwhelming calamities of life. The one pours a purifying, healing, uplifting power into the homes of human suffering, and into the hearts of the ignorant and the poor, that the other has not to bestow. Philosophy is well under all circumstances; but it is not the most inner element of our humanity. Religion, in its humility, penitence, and faith--at the foot of the cross, and by the open sepulcher--rejoices in a direct and practical vision, to which philosophy, with its encyclopedia and telescope, cannot attain. Under this head, too, may be ranked a class of men who, tho they may not be exactly philosophers, fall into the same conception of religion, as a matter of the intellect--as the possession of correct views--rather than a profound moral life. They estimate men according to what they believe, and attribute the same sanctity to the creed that others attribute to the ritual. And as religion, in their conception of it, consists in a series of correct opinions, the great work should be an endeavor to make men think right. So the pulpit should be an arsenal of controversial forces, incessantly playing upon the ramparts of dogmatic error, with the artillery of dogmatic truth, and forever hammering the same doctrinal monotony upon the anvils of logic and of textual interpretation. They are satisfied if some favorite tenet is proved to a demonstration, and go forth rejoicing in the superiority of their "views," without asking if saving love has melted and transfigured their own hearts, or whether personal sin may not canker in their souls, if hereditary guilt is not there. Now, it is true that great principles lie at the foundation of all practical life, and the more elevated and clear our views, the more effectual are the motives to holiness and love. But it matters little to what pole of doctrine the intellect swings, if the heart hangs unpenetrated and untouched. It matters little to what opinions in theology the pulpit has made converts, if all its mighty truths have not heaved the moral nature of the hearer--if it has not shot into the individual soul, like an arrow, the keen conviction: "I must be born again!" Once again: there are those who seek religion in a routine of outward and commendable deeds--in mere morality. With such, the great sum of life is to be sober, chaste, humane; laying particular stress upon the business virtues, honesty, industry, and prudence. In their idea, that man is a religious man who is an upright dealer, an orderly citizen, a good neighbor, and a charitable giver. To be religious, means to do good, to keep your promises, and mind your own business. They tell us that benevolence is the richest offering, and that the truest worship is in the workshop and the field--that a man prays when he drives a nail or plows a furrow, and that he expresses the best thanksgiving when he enjoys what he has got, and is content if he gets no more. Now, the world is not so bad that there is not a good deal of this kind of religion in it. It would be unjust to deny that many golden threads of integrity wind through the fabric of labor; that there is a strong nerve of rectitude holding together the transactions of daily life, and a wealth of spontaneous kindness enriching its darker and more terrible scenes. But, after all, these easy sympathies, and these prudential virtues, lack the radicalness of true religion. Religion cannot exist without morality; but there is a formal morality which exists without religion. I say, a formal morality; for essential morality and essential religion are as inseparable as the sap and the fruit. Nor is morality a mere segment of religion. It is one-half of it. Nay, when we get at absolute definitions, the two terms may be used interchangeably; for then we consider religion presenting its earthly and social phase, and we consider morality with its axis turned heavenward. But, in the case of these outside virtues, which are so common, we behold only one-half of religion, and that is its earthly and social form; and even this lacks the root and sanction of true morality. For the difference between the morality of a religious man and that of another, consists in this: with the one, morality bears the sanction of an absolute law, and God is at its center. It is wrought out by discipline, and maintained at all cost. With the other, it is an affair of temperament, and education, and social position. He has received it as a custom, and adopted it as a policy; or he acts upon it as an impulse. With the one, it is a matter of profit and loss, or a fitful whim of sentiment. With the other, it is the voice of a divine oracle within, that must be obeyed; it is the consecrated method of duty, and the inspiration of prayer. Now, to say that it makes no difference about the motive of an act, so long as the act itself is good, indicates that very lack of right feeling and right perception, which confounds the formal morality of the world with religion. For, in the distinctions of the Christian system, the motive makes the deed good or bad; makes the two mites richer than all the rest of the money in the treasury; makes the man who hates his brother a murderer. The good action may bless others, but if I do not perform it from a right motive, it does not bless me; and the essential peculiarity of religion is, that it regards inward development, individual purity, personal holiness--so that one essential excellence of the good deed consists in its effect upon the agent--consists in the sinews which it lends to his moral power, and the quantity it adds to his spiritual life. When, from a right motive, with effort and sacrifice, I help a weak and poor man, I enrich my individual and spiritual being. If I bestow from a mere gush of feeling, I receive no permanent spiritual benefit; if from a bad motive, I impoverish my own heart. Acts, then, which appear the same thing in form, differ widely, considered in the religious bearings. There is the morality of impulse, the morality of selfishness, and the morality of principle, or religious morality. The motive of the first-named, we obey instantaneously, and it may do good, just as we draw our hands from the flame, and thereby obey a law of our physical nature, tho we act without any consideration of that law. A great deal of the morality in the world is of this kind. It may do good, but has no reference to the law of rectitude. It is impulsive, and, therefore, does not indicate a steadfast virtue, or a deep religious life. For the very impulsiveness that leads to the gratification of the sympathies, leads to the gratification of the appetites, and thus we often find generous and benevolent characteristics mixed with vicious conduct. Then, as I have said, there is the morality of selfishness. In this instance, I may perform many good actions from sheer calculation of material profit. I may be benevolent, because it will increase my reputation for philanthropy. I may be honest, because "honesty is the best policy." But is this the highest, the religious sanction of morality? No; the morality of the religious man is the morality of principle. The motive in his case is not "I will," or "I had better," but "I ought." He recognizes morality as a law, impersonal, overmastering the dictates of mere self, and holding all impulses in subservience to the highest good. The morality of impulse is uncertain. The morality of policy is mean and selfish. The morality of religion is loyal, disinterested, self-sacrificing. It acts from faith in God, and with reference to God. But another trait separates the religious from the merely formal moralist. It consists in the fact that with him, "morality," as we commonly employ the term, is not all. Piety has its place. His affections not only flow earthward, but turn heavenward. He not only loves his neighbor as himself, but he loves the Lord, his God. He not only visits the widows and the fatherless in their affliction, but he keeps himself unspotted from the world. With him, toil is prayer, and contentment is thanksgiving, because he infuses into them a spirit of devotion, which he has cultivated by more solitary and special acts. With him it is a good thing to live honestly, industriously, soberly; but all life is not outward, is not in traffic and labor, and meat and drink. There is an inward world, to which his eyes are often introverted--a world of spiritual experience, of great realities, and everlasting sanctions--a world behind the veil--a holy of holies in his soul, where rests the Shekinah of God's more immediate presence; yea, where he meets God face to face. And it is this that directs his public conduct. The orderly and beautiful method of his life is not the huddled chance-work of good impulses, is not the arithmetic of selfishness; but it is a serene and steady plan of being projected from the communion of the oratory, and the meditation of the closet. Again, I say, let us not depreciate morality. Let us condemn that ostentatious piety which lifts up holy hands to God, but never stretches them out to help man; which anoints its head with the oil of sanctity, but will not defile its robes with the blood of the abused, or the contact of the guilty; which is loud in profession and poor in performance; which makes long prayers, but devours widow's houses. Let us condemn this, but remember that this is not real religion, only its form; as often, the kind deed, the honest method, is not true morality, only its form. Of both these departments of action let it be said: that these we have done, and not left the other undone. Let us recognize the perfect harmony, nay, the identity of religion and morality, in that One who came from the solitary conflict of the desert, to go about doing good, and who descended, from the night prayer on the mountain, to walk and calm the troubled waves of the sea. But those who rest in a mere routine of kind and prudential deeds need the deeper life and the inner perception which detects the meaning and gives the sanction to those deeds. Such need the vital germ of morality--the changed heart, the new birth. And as I have spoken of a subordinate yet somewhat distinct class who may be ranked under the general head of seekers after religion in philosophy, let me here briefly allude to some with whom religion is a matter of mere sentiment and good feeling. Such are easily moved by the great doctrines of the New Testament. They are affected by the sermon; they have gushes of devout emotion during the prayer. But with them, religion is not a deep and steady pulse of divine life. Prayer is not a protracted aspiration--is not a habit. They feel well towards God, because they consider Him a good-natured, complacent being; but they do not meditate upon the majesty of His nature, upon His justice, and His holiness. From the doctrine of immortality they draw consolation, but not sanctity. They regard it as a good time coming, but it furnishes them with no personal and stringent applications for the present. They need a more solemn and penetrating vision; a profounder experience in the soul. They need to be born again. Then, again, there are those who may be called amateurs in religion. That is they are curious about religious things. They like to speculate about it, to argue upon its doctrines and to broach or examine new theories. They go about from sect to sect, and from church to church, tasting what is novel in the reasoning, or pleasing in the manner of the preacher; in one place to-day to hear an orator; in another to-morrow to hear a latter-day saint; it is all the same thing to them. All they want with religion is entertainment and excitement. They are Athenians, ever seeking some new thing. They smack at a fresh heresy as if they were opening a box of figs, and are as delighted with a controversy, as a boy with a sham-fight. They have no fixt place in the Church universal. They are liberalists, without any serious convictions, and cosmopolites without any home affections. In fact, to them religion is a sham-fight--a matter of spectacle and zest--not a personal interest, or an inward life. They would seek Jesus by night, because they hope to learn something wonderful or new, and would be started to hear His solemn words tingling in their hearts: "Ye must be born again!" Nay, my friends, would not these solemn words startle many of us? It may be, we have never made any inquiry concerning religion--have never even come to Jesus, as it were, by night. Such, with their barks of being drifting down the stream of time, have never guessed the meaning of their voyage, or reckoned their course; nay, perhaps they live as tho religion were a fable, as tho earth were our permanent abiding-place, and heaven a dream. If such there are, they have not even listened to the Savior's words. But there are others among us perhaps, who are interested in the subject of religion, who are in some way or another engaged in it; but who are restless seekers after it, rather than actual possessors of it; who are resting upon insufficient substitutes for it. And I ask, would not these words breaking forth from the lips of Jesus, startle us in our ritualism, our philosophy, our outside morality, our sentimentalism, or our mere curiosity? And do they not speak to us? Are they not as true now as when they struck upon the shivering ear of Nicodemus? Do they not make us feel as intensely our obligation and our religious wants, as he might have felt there, with the wind flitting by him as tho the Holy Spirit were touching him with its appeal, and with the calm gaze of the Savior looking into his heart? Do they not demand of us, resting here awhile from the cares and labors of the world, something more than mere conformity, or intellectual belief, or formal deeds? Do they not demand a new and better spirit, a personal apprehension of the religious life, a breaking up and regeneration of our moral nature, a change of heart? STANLEY IN MEMORIAM--THOMAS CARLYLE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, the English scholar and divine, was born 1815 at Alderley, of which his father was rector. He was educated under Dr. Arnold at Rugby and in 1834 began a brilliant career at Oxford. Having been ordained priest in 1843 he was made Canon of Canterbury in 1851 and Dean of Westminster in 1864. At this date began his career as an ethical preacher. His pulpit became the means of reconciling many to the English Church because of its broad and sympathetic feeling of Christian brotherhood. All of his discourses are marked by a refined literary culture and a catholicity of spirit. Stanley's most famous sermons are those in which he celebrates the life and work of many illustrious men who had passed away during his lifetime. He died in 1881. STANLEY 1815-1881 IN MEMORIAM--THOMAS CARLYLE _The kingdom of heaven is likened unto a man which sowed good seed in his field._--Matt. xiii., 24. The gospel of this day starts with a comparison of the kingdom of heaven to a sower. It is the same as that with which the more celebrated parable begins, "A sower went forth to sow." They both fix our minds on the manner in which God's kingdom--the kingdom of truth, beauty and goodness--is carried on in the world. The kingdom of all that is good is fostered, not so much by direct and immediate plantation or grafting or building or formations of any kind, but rather by the sowing of good seed, which, in time, shall grow up and furnish a rich harvest. It is so with regard to the truths of the Bible. They are sown in the world; the good which grows up after them is never, in outward form, like the truth which came from the actual source. Institutions spring up. They may derive their vitality from the corn and wheat which sink into the ground; but they cannot be the very thing itself. There is not a single form, or a single doctrine of Christendom, of which the outward shape is not different, in some way, from the principle of life which gave it birth. There is only one instance of a ready-made scholastic doctrine in the whole Bible, and that has been long known to be spurious. It is not the verse of the three witnesses, but the parable of the Good Shepherd, the poetry of the Prodigal Son, the pathetic story of the Crucifixion, that have been the true seeds of the Christian life. In this way it is that the divine origin of these truths proves itself. The bright and tender words can never grow old, because they are not flowers cut and dried, but seeds and roots, which are capable of bearing a thousand applications. Again, this is the ground of our looking forward with a hope, which nothing can extinguish, toward the transformation, the renewal of the human life, for a moment perishing, to reappear, we trust, in some future world, instinct with the capacities for good or evil with which it was endowed, or which it has acquired in the life that now is. The seminal form within the deeps of that little chaos sleeps, which will, we trust, in the almighty providence of God, restore that chaos of decayed and broken powers into conditions more elevated than now we can dream of. Again, characters appear in the world which have a vivifying and regenerating effect, not so much for the sake of what they teach us, as for the sake of showing us how to think and how to act. What Socrates taught, concerning man and the universe, has long since passed away; but what he taught of the method and process of pursuing truth--the inquiry, the cross-examination, the sifting of what we do know from what we do not know--this is the foundation of the good seed of European philosophy for all time. What St. Paul taught concerning circumcision and election or grace is among the things hard to be understood, which the unlearned and the unstable may wrest to their own destruction, or, having served their generation, may be laid asleep; but what he taught of the mode and manner of arriving at divine truth, when he showed how "the letter killeth and the spirit maketh alive"; when he set forth how charity is the bond of all perfectness; when he showed how all men are acceptable to God by fulfilling, each in his vocation, whether Jew or Gentile, whether slave or free, the commandments of God--he laid the true foundation of Christian faith; he planted in the heart of man the seed, the good seed, of Christian liberty and Christian duty, to bear fruit again and again amidst the many relapses and eclipses of Christendom. When Luther dinned into the ears of his generation the formula of transubstantiation and of justification by faith only, this was doomed to perish and "wax old as doth a garment"; but his acts, his utterances of indignant conscience and of far-sighted genius, became the seed of the Reformation, the hope of the world. When John Wesley rang the changes of the well-known formula of assurance, it was the word of the ordinary preacher; but, in his whole career of fifty years of testifying for holiness and preaching against vice, this was the seed of more than Methodism--it was the seed of the revival of English religious zeal. Such seeds, such principles, such infusions, not of a mechanical system, but of a new light in the world, are not of every-day occurrence--they are the work of a few, of a gifted few, and, therefore, are so much the more to be observed when anyone, who has had it in his power to scatter such seeds right and left, passes away and leaves us to ask what we have gained, what we can assimilate, of the peculiar nourishment which his life and teachings may have left for our advantage. Few will doubt that such an one was he who yesterday was taken from us. It may be that he will not be laid, as might have been expected, among the poets and scholars and sages, whose dust rests within this Abbey; it may be that he was drawn by an irresistible longing toward the native hills of his own Dumfriesshire, and that there, beside the bones of his kindred, beside his father and his mother, and with the silent ministrations of the Church of Scotland, to which he still clung amidst all the vicissitudes of his long existence, will repose all that is earthly of Thomas Carlyle. But he belonged to a wider sphere than Scotland; for, tho by nationality a Scotchman, he yet was loved and honored wherever the British language is spoken. Suffer me, then, to say a few words on the good seed which he has sown in our hearts. In his teaching, as in all things human, there were, no doubt, tares, or what some would account tares, which must be left to after-times to adjust, as best they can, with the pure wheat which is gathered into the garner of God. There were imitators, parasites, exaggerators, of the genuine growth, which sometimes almost choked the original seed and disfigured its usefulness and its value; but of this we do not speak here. Gather them up into bundles and burn them. We speak only of him and of his best self. Nor would we now discourse at length on those brilliant gifts which gave such a charm to his writings, and such an unexampled splendor to his conversation. All the world knows how the words and the deeds of former times became, as Luther describes in the apostle's language, "not dead things, but living creatures with hands and feet." Every detail was presented before us, penetrated through and through with the fire of poetic imagination, which was the more powerful because it derived its warmth from facts gathered together by the most untiring industry. Who can ever, from this time forward, picture the death of Louis XVI, or the flight of the king and queen, without remembering the thrill of emotion with which, through the "History of the French Revolution," they became acquainted with him for the first time? Who can wander among the ruins of St. Edmunds's at Bury without feeling that they are haunted in every corner by the lifelike figure of the Abbot Samson, as he is drawn from the musty chronicle of Jocelyn? Who can read the letters and the speeches of Cromwell, now made almost intelligible to modern years, without gratitude to the unwearied zeal which gathered together from every corner those relics of departed greatness? What German can fail to acknowledge that, not even in that much-enduring, all-exhausting, country of research and labor--not even there has there been raised such a monument to Frederick the Second, called the Great, as by the simple Scotchman who, for the sake of describing what he considered the last hero-king, almost made himself, for the time, a soldier and a statesman? But, on these and many like topics, this is not the time or place to speak. It is for us to ask, as I have said, What was the good seed which he sowed in the field of our hearts, and in what respects we shall be, or ought to be, the better for the sower having lived and died among us? It was customary for those who honored him to speak of him as a prophet. And, if we take the word in its largest sense, he truly deserved the name. He was a prophet, in the midst of an untoward generation: his prophet's mantle was his rough Scotch dialect, and his own peculiar diction, and his own secluded manner of life. He was a prophet, most of all, in the emphatic utterance of truth which no one else, or hardly anyone else, ventured to deliver, and which, he felt, was a message of good to a world which sorely needed them. He stood almost alone, among the men of his time, in opposing a stern, inflexible resistance to the whole drift and pressure of modern days toward exalting popular opinion and popular movements as oracles to be valued above the judgment of the few, above the judgment of the wise, the strong, and the good. Statesmen, men of letters, preachers, have all bowed their heads under the yoke of this, as they believed, irresistible domination, under the impression that the first duty of the chiefest man is, not to lead, but to be led--the necessary conditions of success, to ascertain which way the current flows, and to swim with it as far as it will bear us. To his mind all this proved an insane delusion. That expression of his, which has become, like many of his expressions, almost proverbial in the minds of those who like them least, will express the attitude of his mind, his answer to the question, "What are the people of England?" "Thirty millions--mostly fools." The whole framework and fabric of his mind was built up on the belief that there are not many wise, not many noble minds, not many destined by the supreme Ruler of the universe to rule their fellows; that few are chosen; that "strait is the gate and narrow is the way, and few there be that find it." But, when the few appear, when the great and good present themselves it is the duty and the wisdom of the multitude to seek their guidance. A Luther, a Cromwell, a Goethe, were to him the born kings of men. This was his doctrine of the work of heroes; this, right or wrong, was the mission of his life. It is, all things considered, a fact much to be meditated upon; it is, all things considered, a seed which is worthy of all cultivation. There is another feeling of the age to which he also stood resolutely opposed, or, rather, a feeling of the age which was resolutely opposed to him, the tendency to divide men into two hostile camps, parted from each other by watchwords and flags, and banners and tokens, which we commonly designate by the name of party. He, perchance, disparaged unduly the usefulness, the necessity, of party organization or party spirit as a mode of the secondary machinery by which the great affairs of the world are carried on; but he was a signal example of a man who not only could be measured by no party standard, but who absolutely disregarded it. He never, during the whole course of his long life, took any active part, never, I believe, voted in those elections which, to most of us, are the very breath of our nostrils. For its own sake he cherished whatever was worth preserving; for its own sake he hailed whatever improvement was worth effecting. He cared not under what name or by what man the preservation or the improvement was achieved. This, too, is an ideal which few can attain, which still fewer attempt; but it is something to have had one man who was possest by it as a vital and saving truth. And such a man was the Prophet of Chelsea. But there was that in him which, in spite of his own contemptuous description of the people, in spite of his scorn for the struggles of party, endeared him, in no common degree, even to those who most disagreed with him--even to the humblest classes of our great community. He was an eminent instance of how a man can trample on the most cherished idols of the market-place, if yet he shows that he has in his heart of hearts the joys, the sorrows, the needs of his toiling, suffering fellow creatures. In this way they insensibly felt drawn toward that tender, fervid nature which was weak when they were weak, which burned with indignation when they suffered wrong. They felt that, if he despised them, it was in love; if he refused to follow their bidding, it was because he believed that their bidding was an illusion. And for that independence of party of which I spoke, there was also the countervailing source, that no man could for a moment dream that it arose from indifference to his country. He was no monk; he was no hermit dwelling apart from the passions which sway the destinies of a great nation. There is no man living to whom the thrift, the industry, the valor of his countrymen were so deeply precious. There is no man living, to whom, had it been possible for him to have been aroused from the torpor of approaching death, the news would have been more welcome that the Parliament of England had been in the last week saved from becoming a byword and reproach and shame among the nations of the earth. And all this arose out of a frame of mind which others have shared with him, but which, perhaps, few have been able to share to the same extent. The earnestness, almost the very word is his own, the earnestness, the seriousness, with which he approached the great problems of all human life, have made us feel them also. The tides of fashion have swept over the minds of many who once were swayed by his peculiar tones; but there must be many a young man whose first feelings of generosity and public spirit were roused within him by the cry as if from the very depths of his heart, "Where, now, are your Hengists and your Horsas? Where are those leaders who should be leading their people to useful employments, to distant countries, where are they? Preserving their game!" Before his withering indignation all false pretensions, all excuses for worthless idleness and selfish luxury, fell away. The word which he invented to describe them has sunk, perhaps, into cant and hollowness; but it had a truth when first he uttered it. Those falsities were shams, and they who practised them were guilty of the sin which the Bible, in scathing scorn, calls hypocrisy. And whence came this earnestness? Deep down in the bottom of his soul it springs from his firm conviction that there was a higher, a better world than that visible to our outward senses. All, whether called saints, in the middle ages, or Puritans, in the seventeenth century, or what you like in our own day, he revered them, with all their eccentricities, as bright and learned examples of those who "sacrificed their lives to their higher natures, their worser to their better parts." In addressing the students of Edinburgh, he bade them remember that the deep recognition of the eternal justice of heaven, and the unfailing punishment of crimes against the law of God, is at the origin and foundation of all the histories of nations. No nation which did not contemplate this wonderful universe with an awe-stricken and reverential belief that there was a great unknown, omnipotent, all-wise, and all-just Being superintending all men and all interests in it, no nation ever came to very much, nor did any man either, who forgot that. If a man forgot that, he forgot the most important part of his mission in the world. So he spoke, and the ground of his hope for Europe--of his hope, we may say, against hope--was that, after all, in any commonwealth where the Christian religion exists, nay, in any commonwealth where it has once existed, public or private virtue, the basis of all good, never can become extinct; but in every new age, and even from the deepest decline, there is a chance, and, in the course of ages, the certainty, of renovation. The divine depths of sorrow, the sanctuary of sorrow, the life and death of the divine Man, were, to him, Christianity. We stand, as it were, beside him whilst the grave has not yet closed over those flashing eyes, over those granite features, over that weird form on which we have so often looked, whilst the silence of death has fallen on that house which was once so frequented and so honored. We call up memories which occurred to ourselves. One such, in the far past, may, perchance, come with peculiar force to those whose work is appointed in this place. Many years ago, whilst I belonged to another cathedral, I met him in St. James' Park, and walked with him to his own house. It was during the Crimean war; and after hearing him denounce, with his vigorous and, perhaps, exaggerated earnestness, the chaos and confusion into which our administration had fallen, and the doubt and distrust which pervaded all classes at the time, I ventured to ask him, "What, under the circumstances, is your advice to a canon of an English cathedral?" He grimly laughed at my question. He paused for a moment and then answered, in homely and well-known words; but which were, as it happened, especially fitted to situations like that in which he was asked to give his counsel--"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might." That is, no doubt, the lesson he leaves to each one of us in this place, and also to this weary world--the world of which he felt the weariness as age and infirmity grew upon him--the lesson which, in his more active days, he practised to the very letter. He is at rest, he is at rest; delivered from that burden of the flesh against which he chafed and fretted: he is at rest! In his own words, "Babylon, with its deathening inanity, rages on to the dim innocuous and unheeded forever." From the "silence of the eternities," of which he so often spoke, there still sound, and will long sound, the tones of that marvelous voice. Let us take one tender expression, written three or four years ago--one plaintive yet manful thought, which has never yet reached the public eye: "Three nights ago, stepping out after midnight and looking up at the stars, which were clear and numerous, it struck me with a strong, new kind of feeling: 'In a little while I shall have seen you also for the last time. God Almighty's own theater of immensity--the infinite made palpable and visible to me--that also will be closed--flung too in my face--and I shall never behold death any more.' The thought of the eternal deprivation even of this, tho this is such a nothing in comparison, was sad and painful to me. And then a second feeling rose upon me: 'What if Omnipotence that has developed in me these appetites, these reverences, these infinite affections, should actually have said, Yes, poor mortal, such as you who have gone so far, shall be permitted to go further. Hope! despair not!' God's will, not ours, be done." Yes, God's will be done for us and for him. The Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away. VAUGHAN GOD CALLING TO MAN BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE CHARLES JOHN VAUGHAN, Church of England divine and educator, was born at Leicester in 1816, and educated at Rugby under Dr. Arnold. He was ordained in 1841 and in 1844 elected headmaster of Harrow. But the post which gave him the best opportunity as a preacher, was that of Master of the Temple which he occupied from 1869 to 1894. He was a leader in the Broad Church party and his sermons are marked by simplicity of diction, deep sincerity, and rare spiritual insight. He died at Llandoff, of which he had been dean since 1879, in 1897. VAUGHAN 1816-1897 GOD CALLING TO MAN _And the Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him, Where art thou?_--Genesis iii., 9. "I wish," said a great man of our day, "that some one would preach under the dome of St. Paul's, on the text, 'Where art thou, Adam?'" A noble subject, my brethren, when we think of it! But who is equal to the task of handling it? The work of God is quick and powerful--may it be so now, He Himself using it, and prospering it in the thing whereto He sent it. I shall ask you to look very closely into the text itself. I need not tell anyone whence it comes; from the midst of that awful story which tells us of the first sin, and of its immediate consequences. That same story is in substance acted over and over again in every marked sin that is ever done by any man: the same mode of temptation; first inward question, "Yea, hath God said? is this thing which I wish to do really forbidden?" and then the thought of the hardship; "God doth know that this which He has forbidden is something desirable, something delightful; it is hard that it should be denied me;" and then the growing confidence, "I shall not surely die for it;" and then the last review of all the advantages, "good for food--pleasant to the eyes--to be desired to make me wise, or to make me happy, or to make me independent;" and then the act itself--the taking and eating; and then the sense of leanness entering into the very soul. But that is not all which sin brings after it. The next tells us of a summons, and after the context of an arraigning, and an examination, and at first a self-excusing, and then of a conviction, and a silencing, and a judgment: only one little word of comfort, one little streak of light, amidst all the sorrow, and all the curse, and all the gloom. But I intend to sever the text now somewhat from its context, and to look into it, with you, by itself alone. "The Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him, Where art thou?" There is the speaker--God, the Lord God. There is the person spoken to--Adam, the first man; Adam, from whom we all sprang; the father, and the likeness, and the representative of us all. There is the nature of the address--a call, a summons, decisive, authoritative, majestic. There are, at last, the words uttered--few and plain, yet, when looked into, big with meaning--"Where art thou?" And we shall not end without appealing to all of you, to each of you separately, to answer that question; to answer it truly, as we shall all have to answer it one day. Now I shall not occupy your time, or use many words, about the speaker. There are those who profess to doubt the being of God; and there are those, on the other hand, who profess to prove it. I shall not suspect you of the one, and I shall not endeavor to do the other. I am quite sure that in your inmost hearts you do not doubt His being; and I am quite certain that, if you do, I cannot prove it to you. The being of God is not a matter of argument, it is a matter of instinct. The doubt or denial of it may pass muster with scoffing men in robust health and prosperous circumstances; but nine out of ten of those same men, finding themselves in sudden danger, by land or sea, from accident or disease, will be heard praying: they may conceal it, they may disown it, they may be ashamed of it afterwards--but they did it: and that prayer was a witness, an unimpeachable witness, that down in the depths of their heart there was a belief in God all the time; in their works alike and in their words they deny Him, but in their inmost souls, like the very spirits of evil, they believe and tremble. God, then, speaks here. I tell you not who He is: you know it; you know that there is such a person, your creator, your ruler, your judge: happy if you know also that He is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! Now, to whom does He here speak? I will say two things of His call as here described: First, that it is an individual call; and, secondly, that it is a universal call. We try to make God's call a vague one. It is for some one, no doubt; but every natural man tries to put it away from himself. In hearing a sermon, everyone thinks how suitable this reproof or that warning is to his neighbor; he goes away to wish that such a person had heard it, to hope that such a person listened to it; but the person who thus hopes, and probably, too, the person thus hoped about, never thought of taking it home--never said to himself, tho he was but too ready to say to another, "Thou art the man." Nevertheless, God's call is an individual one. The only use of it is to be so. O that we could hear it in that spirit! O that we could practise ourselves in so hearing it! Where art thou? not, where is he? still less, generally, where are they? Read the Bible thus, my brethren, as written for you, for your learning, for your reproof, for your comfort--yours individually and personally--and you will never need it in vain. But this individual call is also universal. Let us not flatter ourselves that we are more to God than others are: it is a very common, tho a well-disguised notion. We think that our souls are more important than any others; and that is the least form of the error: but we go on to think our faults are more excusable, our sins more venial, than those of others; we go on to think that God will spare us when He does not spare others; we go on to think that our virtues are greater, our self-denials more meritorious, than those of others; and by this time we have got farther away from the truth and the gospel, than the poor self-condemning sinner who feels, and denies it not, that he is yet in the gall of bitterness, in the very bond of iniquity. The call of God, like the care of God, is universal. It is to the race. It is to His creatures. Hear the word--"The Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him." If it had been, God called to Abraham, or to Moses, or to David, there would have been some particularity, perhaps some limitation, in the summons; but none of us can say he is not included when Adam is spoken to; he is, indeed, the father of us all: of him we all come. What God says to him, He certainly says to us--to us all, as to each of us. But we ask, perhaps, thirdly: How does God call to us? I will say, in three ways. He calls within--in conscience. Can you tell me what that thing is in each of us which seems at once so intimate with us, yet so independent of us, that it knows everything we do, or say, or even think, and yet sits in judgment upon us for everything? Is it not a strange thing? We should expect that the whole man would move together; that, if we did a thing, if we said a thing, if we thought a thing, we should go along with it, we should approve that thing: but is it so? No; we carry about within us a whole machinery of judicature; a witness, a jury, a judge, yes, an executioner, too; and, strange to say, it is in early life that the process is most perceptible, just while we are most ignorant, least reflecting, least logical in our judgments. It is the work of many men through life to stifle the voice within, and at last they almost succeed: but do not tell me that you have no such voice within--certainly you will not say that you never had it; and I will tell you what that voice is, or was. It was the voice of the Lord God within, calling to Adam, and saying, "Where art thou?" He calls also without--in providence. I really know not whether this be not the most persuasive of all His modes of calling to us; certainly it is the most authoritative of all. Conscience may be stifled, but providence grasps us very tightly--we cannot escape from it. Tell me, who caused you to be born where and what you were? Who settled that you should be born in this country and not in that? Who decided that you were to have poor parents or rich, Christian parents or un-Christian? Who has managed your circumstances for you since you had a being? Who gave you, who has continued to give you, your vigor of mind and body, your power of enjoyment, or your experience of kindness, or your principles of judgment, or your instincts of affection? Who took away from you that friend for whom you are now mourning--that parent, that brother, that sister, that wife, that child? Yes, we may forget it, or we may fret under it, but in the hands of a providence we all are; we are utterly powerless in that grasp: and whether we will believe it or no, that power is a voice too--a call from God without, even as conscience is His voice and His call within. Once more, God calls from above also--in revelation. My friend, believest thou the Scriptures? I know that thou believest. Your presence here seems to say that you do. And yet in this multitude how many must there be who do not in their hearts believe! Let me rather say, who do not in their lives believe; for in your hearts I think you do: sure I am that there are some parts of the Bible which you cannot read and disbelieve; of course you may leave them unread, that is always possible--easier than to read them--but I do not think you can read the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, for example, in the Old Testament, and I do not think you can read one chapter of St. John's Gospel in the New Testament, and shut the book, saying, "There is nothing in it." I suspect that is why we so often leave the Bible unread--just because we believe it; we feel, when we do read it, that it is God's voice, and we do not want to hear that voice. The Bible is more its own witness than we like oftentimes to admit. "Who that has felt its glance of dread Thrill through his heart's remotest cells, About his path, about his bed, Can doubt what spirit in it dwells?" God speaks; and speaks to us--to each of us and to all of us; and speaks, chiefly in three ways--in conscience, in providence, in revelation: and now, fourthly, what is His call? How is it here briefly exprest? It might have been put, it is put in the Bible, in different forms--but how is it here exprest? "The Lord called unto Adam, and said unto him, Where art thou?" This is a call, first, to attention. As tho God had said, Listen to Me. That is the first step in all religion. What we want first is a spirit of attention. It is the great art of our enemy to keep our thoughts off religion. That is the meaning of the overwhelming cares of life. The devil would occupy our whole time and thoughts with something which is not, and has nothing (as he persuades us) to do with God. That is the meaning of the excessive amusements of life. The cares of life are not enough to engross the attention of all men always; and therefore the enemy provides something which shall alternate with them for some men, and take the place of them for others. It is this art which God, in His mercy, in His long-suffering, in His desire that we should not perish, has to counteract by His divine skill. He takes a man aside now and then, from time to time--blest be His name for it!--and makes him listen. He interposes by some chastisement, some sickness, some bereavement, and constrains him to hearken to what He, the Lord God, has to say concerning him and to him. This is the first point gained. Behold, he listens! better still, Behold, he prayeth! It is a call, next, to the recognition of God's being, and of our responsibility to Him. "Where art thou?" It is as if He had said, I am, and thou art Mine. As if He has said, I have a right to know about thee, and thou canst not evade Me. As if He had said, I am about, now, to enter into judgment with thee: give an account of thy stewardship. Yes, my brethren, it is an awful moment, when a man first becomes distinctly conscious that God is, and is something to him. He may have talked of God before: he may have fancied that he knew all about Him: he may even have prayed before, and confest himself before, and asked grace and help before: but now, for the first time, he sees how much more there is in all this than he has yet dreamed of; and the only words which he can find at all to express his new feeling, are those of the patriarch of old--"I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee: wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." It is a call, once more, and yet more particularly, to reflect upon our place or our position. I know not how else to express the force of the inquiry, "Where art thou?" It may be read literally--of place. May not some one of those here assembled have been, ere now, perhaps often, perhaps quite recently, in some place in which the question, "Where art thou?" would have had a startling and condemning sound?--some place where he was sinning? some place where he had gone to sin? some place where he would not for the world have been seen by any human eye, and where he gladly forgot that there was yet one eye which did see him? Oh, if God stood this night upon earth, and called aloud to the "Adam" of this generation--to the men and women who form now the sum of the living human creation; if He should call them suddenly from the east and from the west to avow exactly where they were, and to come forth from that place as they were, without an instant allowed them to cover up and disguise themselves; oh, what a revelation would it be of action and of character! Oh, who might abide the scrutiny of that question? Oh, who could stand when that inquirer appeared? But, even if the literal local question could be well answered, there would remain yet another behind applicable to all men. "Where art thou?" is an inquiry as to position no less than place. It says, "What is thy present place as a man with a soul, as an immortal being? What is thy present standing, thy present state? Art thou safe? Art thou happy? Art thou useful? Art thou doing the work I gave thee to do? Is it well with thee in the present? Is it well with thee in the future? Say not, I can not answer, I know not. I have taught thee how to judge of thyself; now therefore advise, and see what answer thou wilt return to Him that made thee." My brethren, I propose, in the last place, that we all answer this question. It is a very serious thing to do; and it is what no man can do for his brother. Each one of us has one secret place, one sanctuary within the veil, into which, not even once a year, not even in the character of a high priest, can earthly foot ever enter. Yet in that secret place shines forth the light of God's presence; a light never put out altogether in any man, so far at least as its disclosing and revealing character is concerned, until sin and perverseness have done their perfect work, and the awful words are at length fulfilled, "If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!" At present, we will humbly hope, that this last ruin has not been wrought in any one who hears me. And if not, I repeat it, we can all, if we will, answer God's question, when He calls to each of us, as He does this night, and says, "Where art thou?" One of us, perhaps, answers, if he speaks truly, I am wandering. I have left my Father's home; I took my portion of His goods, and carried them away into a far country. Yes, He was very generous to me; He grudged me nothing; life and health, food and clothing, even success in the world, even human friendship and human love, He gave me all these, and upbraided not: He warned me that I should be sorry one day if I left Him; He cautioned me against the perils of my way; He told me that I should not find happiness; He bade me, if I wished for that, to stay; He bade me, if I should ever be sorry that I had gone, to arise instantly and return. My heart was young then, and I thought I knew best; I left Him, with little feeling, with much expectation; His last look was one of regretful love that I left Him and I am a wanderer still. Sometimes I have arisen to go to my Father, but I went not: I was ashamed, I was afraid, I thought I was too sinful, I felt myself unstable, I feared that I might relapse, I dreaded reproach, I dreaded ridicule, I dreaded, above all, the sight of that face:--and thus stayed where I was, in the far country--I am a wanderer, an outcast still. And another answers, like him to whom the question in the text was first put, I am hiding. I have sinned and I have not repented. I have eaten of the tree of which God said to me, "Thou shalt not eat of it, neither shalt thou touch it, lest thou die." I believed the creature more than the Creator--the tempter more than the Savior. I went to the edge of temptation; I desired forbidden knowledge first, and then I could not rest until I knew by experience also; and now my heart is defiled, my conscience is defiled, my life is defiled; I have lost all right to the beatific vision, for I am no longer pure in heart; now, when I hear the voice of the Lord God, I hide myself, because I know myself sinful, and because I know that He is of purer eyes than to look upon or tolerate iniquity. And another answers, I am resting. Earth is very pleasant to me; I have toiled and I have reaped; I have gathered myself a competence; I have found the happiness of lawful love; I have built myself a nest here, I have fenced it against the blasts of fortune, I am warm and tranquil within: let me alone a little while; it is not long that I can enjoy it; soon calamity may come, loss, sickness, death, into my peaceful home; then I will turn and seek Thee--not yet, O not just yet! And another says, I am working. Am I not doing Thy work? Am I not discharging the duties of my station? Am I not setting an example of diligence and sobriety? Am I not availing myself of the faculties which Thou has given to make myself respectable, and useful, and exemplary in my generation? How can I do all this, and yet be religious? How can I find time for both worlds at once? But yet, indeed, am I not providing for that other world in making a proper use of this? Let me alone a little while; when I have a convenient season, I will call for Thee. And another says, honestly, I am trifling. The world is so gay, so amusing, so exciting: hast Thou not made it so for our enjoyment? Oh, grudge me not my brief time of mirth and forgetfulness; I shall be serious enough one day. And another says, I am coming. Yes, I am on my way. This is no world, I see it, of rest for me. There is no peace but in God: I sought it once elsewhere, and found it not: now I know my error; yes, I am coming, I am coming, I am on my way: but give me time: so great a change cannot be wrought all at once: heaven cannot be won in a day: give me time, and I will reach Thee. I am now using the means: I pray, I read the Bible, I go to Thy House, I partake in Christ's supper: surely this is the way to Thee! Yes, my brother, but why this delay? Why this postponement of the desired result? Wilt thou be any fitter to-morrow than to-day for that step across the barrier which now seems so premature, so presumptuous? The word is very nigh thee: it is in thy mouth, it is in thy heart--thou knowest it well, even the word of faith--"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ," at once, "and thou shalt be saved. Come unto me"--not to-morrow, but to-day--"all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Are there any here present--God grant that they be many!--who have yet one other answer to return to the question on which we have dwelt? Thou sayest to me, O Lord, "Where art thou?" Lord, I am a sinner in a world of danger; and I have learned that danger in myself; for I have fallen, and I have sinned against Thee, times without number; yet by Thy grace I have risen, and I have returned to Thee, and Thou hast accepted me in Thy Son, and hast endued me, according to my need, with Thy Holy Spirit. And now, Lord, my life is hid with Christ in Thee: He is my trust, He is my life, He is my hope, and the life that I now live upon earth, I live by faith in Him. Under Thy care, doing Thy work, thankful for Thy mercies, trusting in Thy strength, even now I am Thine, and hereafter I shall see Thee. Guide Thou my steps, make Thy way plain before me, in the days that remain to me, and at last receive me to Thyself, disciplined, humbled, sanctified, that I may rest in Thee forever, and forever see Thy glory! My brethren, the work of God in each of us would be almost accomplished if this one call were heard within. Once let us know that God is speaking to us, and that He waits an answer; once let us feel that He is, and that He will have us to be saved, and all the rest will follow. May it be so now! May some wanderer this night return to his Father; some hiding soul this night come forth from its lurking place; some builder upon the sand lay this night his foundations upon the rock; some trifler be made serious; some worldly man turned heavenward--so that all may have cause to bless God for His word here spoken, and ascribe to Him, through eternal ages, thanksgiving, and blessing, and praise! NEWMAN HALL CHRISTIAN VICTORY BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE CHRISTOPHER NEWMAN HALL, Congregational divine, was born at Maidstone, Kent, in 1816. He was widely known as a writer, lecturer, and preacher of great eloquence. During the Civil War he was enthusiastic in advocating the cause of the North, and subsequently two extended tours in the United States brought him international fame. His tract, "Come to Jesus," published in 1846, has been translated into over twenty languages. He died in 1902. NEWMAN HALL 1816-1902 CHRISTIAN VICTORY _To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it._--Rev. ii., 17. The Christian life is often compared in Scripture to a warfare. Followers of Jesus are "soldiers." They are exhorted to put on "the whole armor of God." They "fight the good fight of faith." Some of you have been engaged in the conflict: others have more recently entered upon it. But, whether young or old in the Christian career, all find it necessary to be constantly stirred up to watchfulness against the never-ceasing assaults of the foe. It is not enough to put on the armor and to commence the battle. He that overcometh, and he alone, will receive the salutation, "Well done, good and faithful servant,"--he alone shall "lay hold upon eternal life." But we are not left to fight without encouragement. As generals before a battle go in front of their troops to stimulate them to valor, so Christ, the Captain of our Salvation, leads on the consecrated hosts of His elect; and having himself set us a glorious example of valor and victory, animates us to follow in His footsteps by the "exceeding great and precious promises" of His word. Christian warrior! let your eye be lifted up to Him. Behold Him beckoning you onward. Listen to Him, as from His throne of glory He exhorts you to persevering valor against the foe; and pray earnestly that His promise may be fulfilled in your case: "To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it." Let us consider first, the promise; then, the condition attached to it. I. The promise. This is twofold,--the hidden manna and the white stone. 1. The hidden manna.--God fed the Israelites in the wilderness with manna. A portion of this was laid by in the ark, and thus was hidden from public view. It is here referred to as a figurative representation of the spiritual blessings bestowed upon the victor in the heavenly fight. Christ, speaking of the manna as a type of Himself, said, "I am the bread which came down from heaven." The manna in the wilderness sustained the life of the Israelites. But there is another life more important than that of the body. By sin the soul is dead, dead toward God. By the Holy Spirit, the "dead in trespasses and sins" are "quickened," or made alive. As the life of the new-born infant cannot be preserved without food, so the new spiritual life which God imparts needs continual support. Both the life, and the nourishing of it, come from Christ, and Christ alone. By His sacrifice that life becomes possible; and by His spirit working within our hearts that life becomes actual. He sustains as well as imparts spiritual vitality. He is the food of our faith: "believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." He is the food of our love: "we love him because he first loved us." He is the food of our obedience: "the love of Christ constraineth us." He is the food of our peace: for when "justified by faith, we have peace with God through Jesus Christ our Lord." He is the food of our joy: for if "we joy in God" it is "through Jesus Christ our Lord." The manna which sustained the Israelites was evidently the gift of God. And so this "hidden manna" is from heaven. It is no contrivance of man--no philosophy of human invention. It is a divine plan for the salvation of our ruined race. "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but should have everlasting life." That manna in the wilderness was sweet to the taste; yet they who fed on it grew weary of it. But the more we eat of the bread of life, the more we relish it--the greater is our appetite for it. That manna in the wilderness was needed daily. And so with this heavenly bread. Yesterday's supply will not suffice for to-day. The prayer is as needful for the soul as for the body: "Give us this day our daily bread." But if that manna was needed daily, so it was supplied; none went in vain at the appointed season--and no soul that "hungers and thirsts after righteousness" is sent empty away. The manna was supplied to the Israelites till they came to the promised land--so God has promised that His grace shall not fail His people through their wanderings. It is spoken of as the "hidden manna." Such is the Christian's life. "Our life is hid with Christ in God." The outward effects of it may be seen, but the inner life is invisible. So is the nourishing of the life. You may see the Christian on his knees, you may hear the words which he utters, but you cannot see the streams of divine influence which are poured into his spirit; nor hear the sweet whispers of divine love which fill him with joy; nor comprehend the peace passing all understanding which he is permitted to experience. Unbelievers are often amazed at what they see in the Christian. He is troubled on every side, yet not in despair. Waves of sorrow beat upon his frail vessel, yet it does not sink. Men now threaten, now allure, but he holds on his way. What to others is an irresistible charm, is no attraction to him. What is a terror to others, deters not him. Why does he not faint beneath the burden? why does he not sink in the storm? Because he eats of the "hidden manna." "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him." "He hath taken him into his banqueting-room, and the banner over him is love." Were this promise merely the reward of final victory, that victory itself would never be gained. We need to eat this manna during our pilgrimage. We cannot live without it. Every act of overcoming will be followed by a verification of the promise, "I will give him to eat of the hidden manna." Yet we must look beyond the present life for its full accomplishment. "To him that overcometh" at the last "shall be given the hidden manna," in a sense of which at present we have but a very faint conception. As the manna was hidden in the ark, and that ark was hidden behind the curtain of the Holy of Holies, so the Christian's hope, "as an anchor of the soul, sure and stedfast, enters into that which is within the veil." Those joys we cannot yet conjecture; their splendor is too intense; we should be blinded by excessive light; we should be overpowered by the excellent glory. One look of heaven would unfit us for earth. It is wisely appointed that at present this manna should in one sense be hidden, even from ourselves. We are as yet but babes--such strong meat would not suit us now; we must be content with simpler fare. But oh! if the manna, tho at present so partially and imperfectly appreciated, can produce such peace and joy, what must be the bliss of entering into the holiest of all, and there, in the presence of God Himself, feasting on it eternally! Unceasing, unlimited reception of divine influences into the soul! Uninterrupted fellowship with Him who is the only fountain of life, and purity, and happiness! Perfect love! But at present such full fruition is "hidden." "Now we see through a glass darkly"; "now we know but in part"; "it doth not yet appear what we shall be." But how unspeakably blest are they to whom, partially in this world and perfectly in the next, the promise shall be verified: "To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna"! 2. The white stone.--Reference is made to the _tessera hospitalis_, the tally or token of hospitality employed by the ancients. At a time when houses of public entertainment were less common, private hospitality was the more necessary. When one person was received kindly by another, or a contract of friendship was entered into, the _tessera_ was given. It was so named from its shape, being four-sided; it was sometimes of wood; sometimes of stone; it was divided into two by the contracting parties; each wrote his own name on half of the _tessera_; then they exchanged pieces, and therefore the name or device on the piece of _tessera_ which each received, was the name the other person had written upon it, and which no one else knew but him who received it. It was carefully prized, and entitled the bearer to protection and hospitality. Plautus, in one of his playes, refers to this custom. Hanno inquires of a stranger where he may find Agorastocles, and discovers to his surprize that he is addressing the object of his search. "If so," he says, "compare, if you please, this hospitable _tessera_; here it is; I have it with me." Agorastocles replies, "It is the exact counterpart; I have the other part at home." Hanno responds, "O my friend! I rejoice to meet thee; thy father was my friend, my guest; I divided with him this hospitable _tessera_." "Therefore," said Agorastocles, "thou shalt have a home with me, for I reverence hospitality." Beautiful illustration of gospel truth! The Savior visits the sinner's heart, and being received as a guest, bestows the white stone, the token of His unchanging love. It is not we who in the first instance desire this compact. Far from it. But Jesus, anxious to bless us, kindly forces Himself on our regard. By His spirit, he persuades us to give Him admission to our hearts. "Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." We often disregarded His appeal. Yet, with what condescending kindness did he persevere! And when at length we opened the door, we saw Him laden with blessings which He had been long waiting to bestow. The feast which was then spread was all of His providing. He who went to be "the guest of one that was a sinner," inverts the usual course. He invites Himself and brings the feast. What have we fit to set before so august and holy a visitant? But He who chooses the sinner's heart as His banqueting-chamber, spreads there His choicest gifts, His exceeding great and precious promises, His finished sacrifice, His human sympathy, His perfect example, His pure precepts, His all-prevailing intercession, the various developments of His infinite love. He "sups with us," and makes us "sup with Him." He enrolls our name among His friends. "He makes an everlasting covenant with us, ordered in all things and sure." He promises never to leave nor forsake us. He tells us we "shall never perish." He gives us the _tessera_, the white stone! Is not this "the witness of the Spirit," the "earnest of the promised possession"? Does not "the Spirit witness with our spirit that we are born of God"? Does not our experience of the friendship of Jesus correspond with what we are taught of it in the Scriptures? "I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him, against that day." The "love of God is shed abroad" in the heart of the believer. He says, with humble confidence, "My Lord, and my God!" On this white stone is inscribed a "new name." The part of the _tessera_ which each of the contracting parties received contained the name of the other. And, therefore, "the new name" on the "white stone," which he that overcometh receives, is that of Him who gives. By the unbeliever, God is known as Power, as Majesty, as Justice. He is dreaded. "The carnal mind is enmity against God." The Christian alone knows Him as "Love!" Jehovah has now "a new name." He was once a ruler--now He is Friend; He was once judge--now He is Father. Do you know God by His "new name"? Do you so know Him as to wish no longer to hide from Him, but to hide in Him, as the only home the universe can furnish in which you can be safe and happy? Have you learned to say, "Our Father which art in heaven"? If we have, indeed, received this "white stone," let us continually be reading the "new name" engraven on it. Here I am assured that the Holy Ghost is my teacher, my guide, my comforter; that the eternal Word, the only begotten Son, is my Savior, my Friend, my Brother; that the infinite Jehovah is my Father, and that "like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." We are told that no man knoweth this new name, "saving he that receiveth it." He knows it for himself, but no one else can read it for him. Thus it resembles the "hidden manna." The frivolous may deride, fools may mock, the unbeliever may deny, the sceptic may bring forth his objections in all the pride of a false philosophy, but the Christian, even if unable to reply to the caviller, or to make intelligible to any other mind his own strong assurance, has an evidence within him which nothing can shake, for God has written on his heart "His new best name of Love." Fellow pilgrims to the heavenly Canaan, how precious is this token! We are travelers through the desert; for tho the enjoyments of earth are many, yet this life, compared with what is to come, is a wilderness. We are away from home; we are exposed to privations, tempests, foes; we constantly need a refuge. But we are never far from the house of a friend. Everywhere, in every city and in every village, on the desert and on the ocean, in the solitude of secrecy, and in the solitude of a crowd, in the bustle of business, and in the sick chamber, a Friend is at hand, who will always recognize the white stone He gave us, a token of His love. We have only to present it to claim the fulfilment of His promise. How wide will the door be thrown open for our reception! What divine entertainment we shall receive! what safety from peril! what succor in difficulty! what comfort in trouble! what white raiment! what heavenly food! O that we valued the _tessera_ more, that we sought more frequent interviews with our heavenly Friend, that we more habitually resorted as invited guests to Jesus, and dwelt in Him as the home of our souls! We shall never find the door closed against us; we shall never be received reluctantly; He will never allow us to think that we are intruders. Jesus is never ashamed of His poor relations, nor treats them coldly because they need His help. The greater our distress, the more shall we prove His liberality and tender sympathy. And as regards this stone, as well as the hidden manna, we can look beyond the present life. A day is coming when we shall be compelled to leave the homes of earth, however endeared. We must embrace for the last time the friends united to us as our own souls. Tho we have traveled along the road many a year together, we must now separate, and go alone. They may accompany us to the river side, but we must cross it by ourselves. What cheering voice will greet us then? What kind roof will receive us then? What loving friend will welcome us then? But we shall not have left our best treasure behind us! No! we shall carry the white stone with us; and with this we shall look for no inferior abode, but with unhesitating step shall advance at once right up to the palace of the Great King. We present the _tessera_; the "new name" is legible upon it; the angelic guards recognize the symbol; the everlasting gates lift up their heads; and the voice of Jesus Himself invites us to enter, saying, "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom!" Such is the welcome that every soul shall experience to whom the promise is fulfilled: "I will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth, saving he that receiveth it." II. The condition annexed to the promise, "To him that overcometh!" A great war is going on between the Church and the powers of darkness. It is not an affair of strategy between two vast armies, wherein skilful maneuvers determine the issue, many on either side never coming into actual combat; but every Christian has to fight hand to hand with the enemy. We cannot be lost in the crowd. We may not stand in the middle of the hollow square, without sharing the perils of the outer rank. Every Christian must not only occupy his post in the grand army, but must personally grapple with the foe. Before conversion there was no fighting. The devil's suggestions and the heart's inclination were allied. Then we did the enemy's bidding, or were lulled to sleep by his intoxicating cup. But when light shone into the soul, and we strove to escape, the struggle began. God, as our Creator and Redeemer, justly demands our obedience and love. Whatever interferes with these claims, is an enemy summoning us to battle. The world of frivolity is our foe. How numerous and insinuating are its temptations--the more perilous because of the difficulty of defining them! Moreover, lawful pleasures and necessary cares become dangerous when they cease to be subordinate to the love of God. The enjoyments He bestows and the labors He appoints are calculated to minister to godliness,--and yet they may be perverted to idolatry by our forgetting Him on whom our highest thoughts should be fixt. What danger is there that things in themselves holy and beautiful may thus become pernicious and destructive! The flesh, too, furnished its contingent to the army of our foes. Not that any of our natural appetites, being divinely bestowed, can have in them the nature of sin. No! the flesh, as God made it, is pure and holy. But those instincts, which, regulated by the revealed will of their Author, are "holiness to the Lord," may, by unhallowed gratification, become those "fleshly lusts which war against the soul." As we carry about with us these animal propensities, there is necessity for constant vigilence lest our own nature, being abused, should become our destroyer. Inbred depravity lurks in the heart of even the true believer. Tho dethroned, it is not completely expelled. With what selfishness, covetousness, vanity, hastiness of temper, uncharitableness, have we not to contend! Who has not some sin which most easily besets him? How varied are the forms of unbelief! Spiritual pride, too, corrupts our very graces, piety itself furnishing an occasion of evil, so that when we have conquered some temptation or performed some duty, our victory is often tarnished, our holy things corrupted, by our falling into the snare of self-complacency. Above all, there is that great adversary who "goeth about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour." He avails himself of the world, and the flesh, and the infirmities of the spirit, to tempt the soul of sin. This is no fable, altho one of Satan's most skilful stratagems is to make men disbelieve in his existence. Overlooked or despised, a foe is already half victorious. But the Captain of our Salvation, in His word, often warns us both of the craft and of the violence of our adversary. We sometimes read of "the wiles of the devil"; and sometimes of "the fiery darts of the wicked one." They who fail to watch and pray, are sure to be vanquished by such a foe. These are our enemies! And if we would possess the promise we must "overcome." A mere profession of religion is of no avail. It is not enough for our name to appear on the muster-roll of the camp. Many wear the soldier's dress who know nothing of the soldier's heart. Many are glad to glitter on the grand parade who fall off from the hard-fought, blood-stained battle-field. It is not enough to buckle on our armor; many do this, and lay it aside again. We must devote ourselves to this great daily battle of life. There is no exemption of persons. Women must fight, as well as men; the tender and timid must be as Amazons in the conflict. Children must carry the shield, and wield the sword. The aged and infirm must keep the ranks. The sick and wounded must not be carried to the rear. No substitute can be provided, and there is no discharge in this war. There is no exemption on account of circumstances. The rich and poor, the learned and the unlearned, the cheerful and the sad, all must fight. No accumulation of trouble, no unexpected death of friends, can be an excuse for laying down our arms. We must go to the marriage feast, and we must attend the funeral procession, as warriors, wearing our armor and grasping our weapons. We must be like those spoken of by Nehemiah, "every man with one hand wrought in the work, and with the other hand held a weapon." There is no exemption of place. Foes lie in wait for the Christian wherever he goes--in the mart of commerce, in the busy workshop, when he returns to his home, when he rests on his bed, in the bustle of the day, in the silence of the night, in the circle of his friends, in the bosom of his family, in society, alone, in the city, in the fields, in his walks of benevolence, in his private meditations, in the church, in his secret retirement, when he worships with the great congregation, and when he enters his closet and shuts the door. He can never elude the enemy; he carries the foe in his own breast; the conflict ceases not! There is no exemption of time, no season of rest. No truce is sounded. Satan never beats a retreat, except to lead us into an ambuscade. No white flag comes out that can be trusted. If we parley it is at our peril; if we pause, we are wounded or taken captive. Wars on earth may often terminate by mutual agreement. It is a war of extermination; no quarter is given; either we must trample Satan under foot, or Satan will drag us down to hell! It is a warfare until death. While we are in the body it will be always true--"We wrestle." The oldest Christian cannot lay aside his weapons. "Having done all, stand." A great word that! "Having done all!" "What!" you may say, "after a long life of conflict, surely I may put aside my armor, and sheathe my sword, and recline on some sunny bank, and enjoy myself after my victory!" No; you must not expect it; "having done all" it is enough if you stand at bay on the battle-ground; all you can hope for in this world is to maintain your post, still defying the foe, who will be still meditating fresh attacks. You will never be able to say with St. Paul, "I have finished my course." It is not the appearance of fighting. It is not a few faint, irresolute strokes. "So fight I," said the Apostle, "not as one that beateth the air." We must be resolute, determined, in earnest, giving our enemy no advantage. We must "not give place to the devil." We must watch against the smallest beginnings of sin. By "keeping the heart with all diligence," by putting on "the whole armor of God," by having faith as our shield, righteousness as our breastplate, the hope of salvation as our helmet, by keeping "the sword of the Spirit" bright with exercise, "praying with all prayer," standing near our Captain, looking to Him, relying upon Him, knowing that "without Him we can do nothing,"--so must we fight! All this is necessary, if we would overcome. It is not so easy to fight this fight as some suppose. It is not a true faith merely, an evangelical creed, a scriptural church, a comfortable sermon once or twice a week, a little Sabbath-keeping, an agreeable pause in your pleasures, giving to them a new relish--it is not this which constitutes Christianity. You that think religion so very easy a thing, have a care at least, lest when too late, you find that you know not what true religion meant. Easy? A depraved being to trample upon his lusts--a proud being to lie prostrate with humility and self-reproach--they that are "slow of heart to believe," to receive the gospel as little children? Easy? To "crucify the flesh," "to deny ungodliness," "to cut off a right hand, and to pluck out a right eye"? Easy? To be in the world, and yet not of the world--to come out from it, not by the seclusion of the cloister, but by holiness of life--to be diligent in its duties, yet not absorbed by them; appreciating its innocent delights, and yet not ensnared by them; beholding its attractions and yet rising superior to them? Easy? To live surrounded by objects which appeal to the sight, and yet to endure as seeing what is invisible? Easy? To pray and see no answer to prayer, and still pray on--to fight this battle, and find fresh foes ever rising up, yet still to fight on--to be harassed with doubts and fears, and yet walk on in darkness, tho we see no light, staying ourselves upon God? Easy? To be preparing for a world we have never visited, in opposition to so much that is captivating in a world where we have always dwelt, whose beauties we have seen, whose music we have heard, whose pleasures we have experienced? Easy? To resist that subtle foe who has cast down so many of the wise and the mighty? Easy? When Jesus says it is a "strait gate," and that if we would enter we must "strive," bidding us "take up our cross daily, deny ourselves and follow him"? Ah! it is no soft flowery meadow, along which we may languidly stroll, but a rough, craggy cliff that we must climb. "To him that overcometh!" It is no smooth, placid stream, along which we may dreamily float, but a tempestuous ocean we must stem. "To him that overcometh!" It is no easy lolling in a cushioned chariot, that bears us on without fatigue and peril. The trumpet has sounded to arms; it is not peace, but war, war for liberty, war for life, on the issue of which our everlasting destiny depends! If we are to be saved, we must "overcome." But tho the conflict is arduous, the encouragements are great. We have armor of proof. We have a mighty Champion. Victory is ensured to the brave. Others who stood on the same battle-field and fought with the same enemies, are now enjoying an eternal triumph. Not one faithful warrior ever perished. Their foes were not fewer than ours, their strength was not greater. They overcame by the same "blood of the Lamb" on which we rely. "Once they were mourning here below, And wet their couch with tears; They wrestled hard, as we do now, With sins, and doubts, and fears." But they are wearing their crowns, they are enjoying their rest; and the feeblest and most unworthy of our own day, trusting in the same Savior, shall inherit the same promise. Then let us overcome. Sheathe not the sword, and it shall never be wrested from you; lay not down the shield, and no fiery dart shall ever penetrate it; face the foe, and he shall never trample you down, never drive you back. Listen to your Captain; how He animates you onward! Look to the crown he is ready to bestow upon you; eat of the hidden manna which He gives; read the name in the "white stone,"--the name of God,--His name of love, recorded for your encouragement; and thus be animated to walk worthy of this holy alliance, and not to allow the foe to wrench from you such an assurance of divine favor, such a passport to heavenly bliss. A little more conflict, and that "white stone" shall introduce you to the inheritance above, where, in the everlasting repose of the inner sanctuary, you shall without intermission eat of the hidden manna. "Then let my soul march boldly on, Press forward to the heavenly gate; There peace and joy eternal reign, And glittering robes for conquerors wait." Some of you may consider this subject visionary and unreal. You say, "I know nothing of this warfare. I know what the conflict of business is, the race of fashion, the bustle of toil or pleasure; but to anxiety about spiritual things I am a stranger." You are enjoying peace--but--what peace? There is a captive in a dungeon--his limbs are fast chained to the walls--yet he is singing songs. How is it? Satan has given him to drink of his drugged cup, and he does not know where he is. Look at that other. He says, "it is peace." There is truly no fighting, but he is groveling in the dust, and the heel of his foe is upon his neck. Such is the peace of every one going on in his wickedness, unpardoned and unsaved. "Taken captive by the devil at his will." Chained in Satan's boat, you are swiftly gliding down the stream to ruin, and because it is smooth, you dream that it is safe! What is the difference between the saint and the sinner? Not that in the saint there is no sin. Not that in the sinner there is never a thought about God. The difference is this--that the saint is overcoming his sin; but the sin is overcoming the sinner. Oh, what a terrible thing if sin have the upper hand! No "hidden manna" is yours. The symbols of religion you may look at, but real religion must be a stranger to you. You know not its enjoyment. You do not taste it. It is a hidden thing. Heaven too will be hidden. You hear of its gates of pearl--but they will never open to you. You may catch the distant accents of its songs--but in those songs you will never join. And that "white stone" cannot be yours. You have no joyful anticipation of heaven--but a fearful looking-for of fiery indignation--or else the insensate resolve not to think at all. And the "new name"--no! you cannot read it! You know God by no such name as makes you seek His company. The thought of Him renders you unhappy, and therefore you banish it from your mind. You are not now alarmed, but soon the spell may be broken, and you may find the chains riveted upon your soul forever. I fancy I hear you say, "I wish that before it is too late, I could escape! But mine is a hopeless case. My heart is hardened against the gospel, and evil habit has so got the mastery over me, that I have no power to begin this conflict!" No, you have no power; but One has visited this world, and taken our nature, who can help you. The mighty Son of God became the suffering Son of Man that He might be the liberator of our enslaved race. He burst open the prison doors, that captive souls might escape. He stands near you, ready to break off your fetters and strengthen you to fight the enemy who has so long opprest you. Tell Him your simple but sad tale; how helpless, how miserable, how ruined you are! Tell Him you want to be saved, but know not how to begin the work, and ask Him both to begin and complete it for you! Let your prayer be this: "Be merciful to me, a sinner"; and He who "came to destroy the works of the devil," He "whose nature and property is ever to have mercy and to forgive," will receive your "humble petitions; and tho you be tied and bound with the chain of your sins, He, in the pitifulness of His great mercy, will loose you." He will pardon your past shameful concessions to the foe, and, arraying you in "the whole armor of God," and animating you with His Holy Spirit, He will enable you so to fight against the world, the flesh, and the devil, that you also shall share in the prize of them that overcome; you also shall eat of the "hidden manna," and receive the "white stone." ROBERTSON THE LONELINESS OF CHRIST BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE FREDERICK WILLIAM ROBERTSON, was born in London in 1816, educated at Edinburgh University and took his degree at Oxford in 1841. From a law office he passed into the ministry, where his career, tho brief, was exceptionally brilliant. His English style commends itself to the preacher's study for its naturalness, poetic beauty, lucidity, and strength. It is the style of a man of unique genius. In Aug., 1847, he began his remarkable ministry at Trinity Chapel, Brighton. He died of consumption at Brighton in 1853, little more than thirty-six years of age. Perhaps the most remarkable feature in the career of Robertson was the influence he exercised over the workingmen. This class had in his day become estranged from the Church of England, few of whose clergy had any power to attract their attention and adherence. He was denounced as a socialist because of his foundation of a workingmen's institute, and the opposition and vilification which he thus met with no doubt helped to shorten his life. ROBERTSON 1816-1853 THE LONELINESS OF CHRIST _Jesus answered them, Do ye now believe? Behold, the hour cometh, yea, is now come, that ye shall be scattered every man to his own, and shall leave me alone; and yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me._--John xvi., 31, 32. There are two kinds of solitude: the first, consisting of isolation in space; the other, of isolation of the spirit. The first is simply separation by distance. When we are seen, touched, heard by none, we are said to be alone. And all hearts respond to the truth of that saying, This is not solitude; for sympathy can people our solitude with a crowd. The fisherman on the ocean alone at night is not alone, when he remembers the earnest longings which are rising up to heaven at home for his safety. The traveler is not alone, when the faces which will greet him on his arrival seem to beam upon him as he trudges on. The solitary student is not alone, when he feels that human hearts will respond to the truths which he is preparing to address to them. The other is loneliness of soul. There are times when hands touch ours, but only send an icy chill of unsympathizing indifference to the heart; when eyes gaze into ours, but with a glazed look which can not read into the bottom of our souls; when words pass from our lips, but only come back as an echo reverberated without reply through a dreary solitude; when the multitude throng and press us, and we can not say, as Christ said, "Somebody hath touched me"; for the contact has been not between soul and soul, but only between form and form. And there are two kinds of men, who feel this last solitude in different ways. The first are the men of self-reliance--self-dependent--who ask no counsel, and crave no sympathy; who act and resolve alone, who can go sternly through duty, and scarcely shrink, let what will be crushed in them. Such men command respect: for whoever respects himself constrains the respect of others. They are invaluable in all those professions of life in which sensitive feeling would be a superfluity; they make iron commanders, surgeons who do not shrink, and statesmen who do not flinch from their purpose for the dread of unpopularity. But mere self-dependence is weakness; and the conflict is terrible when a human sense of weakness is felt by such men. Jacob was alone when he slept on his way to Padan Aram, the first night that he was away from his father's roof, with the world before him, and all the old broken up; and Elijah was alone in the wilderness when the court had deserted him, and he said, "They have digged down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword: and I, even I, only am left, and they seek my life to take it away." But the loneliness of the tender Jacob was very different from that of the stern Elijah. To Jacob the sympathy he yearned for was realized in the form of a gentle dream. A ladder raised from earth to heaven figured the possibility of communion between the spirit of man and the Spirit of God. In Elijah's case, the storm, and the earthquake, and the fire did their convulsing work in the soul, before a still, small voice told him that he was not alone. In such a spirit the sense of weakness comes with a burst of agony, and the dreadful conviction of being alone manifests itself with a rending of the heart of rock. It is only so that such souls can be taught that the Father is with them, and that they are not alone. There is another class of men, who live in sympathy. These are affectionate minds, which tremble at the thought of being alone; not from want of courage nor from weakness of intellect comes their dependence upon others, but from the intensity of their affections. It is the trembling spirit of humanity in them. They want not aid, not even countenance, but only sympathy. And then trial comes to them not in the shape of fierce struggle, but of chill and utter loneliness, when they are called upon to perform a duty on which the world looks coldly, or to embrace a truth which has not found lodgment yet in the breasts of others. It is to this latter and not to the former class that we must look, if we could understand the spirit in which the words of the text were pronounced. The deep humanity of the soul of Christ was gifted with those finer sensibilities of affectionate nature which stand in need of sympathy. He not only gave sympathy, but wanted it, too, from others. He who selected the gentle John to be His friend, who found solace in female sympathy, attended by the women who ministered to Him out of their substance--who in the trial hour could not bear even to pray without the human presence, which is the pledge and reminder of God's presence, had nothing in Him of the hard, merely self-dependent character. Even this verse testifies to the same fact. A stern spirit never could have said, "I am not alone: the Father is with me"; never would have felt the loneliness which needed the balancing truth. These words tell of a struggle, an inward reasoning, a difficulty and a reply, a sense of solitude--"I shall be alone"; and an immediate correction of that: "Not alone: the Father is with me." There is no thought connected with the life of Christ more touching, none that seems so peculiarly to characterize His spirit, as the solitariness in which He lived. Those who understood Him best only understood Him half. Those who knew Him best scarcely could be said to know Him. On this occasion the disciples thought, Now we do understand, now we do believe. The lonely spirit answered, "Do ye now believe? Behold the hour cometh that ye shall be scattered, every man to his own, and shall leave me alone." Very impressive is that trait in His history. He was in this world alone. I. First, then, we meditate on the loneliness of Christ. The loneliness of Christ was caused by the divine elevation of His character. His infinite superiority severed Him from sympathy; His exquisite affectionateness made that want of sympathy a keen trial. There is a second-rate greatness which the world can comprehend. If we take two who are brought into direct contrast by Christ Himself, the one the type of human, the other that of divine excellence, the Son of Man and John the Baptist, this becomes clearly manifest. John's life had a certain rude, rugged goodness, on which was written, in characters which required no magnifying-glass to read, spiritual excellence. The world, on the whole, accepted him. Pharisees and Sadducees went to his baptism. The people idolized him as a prophet; and, if he had not chanced to cross the path of a weak prince and a revengeful woman, we can see no reason why John might not have finished his course with joy, recognized as irreproachable. If we inquire why it was that the world accepted John and rejected Christ, one reply appears to be, that the life of the one was infinitely simple and one-sided, that of the other divinely complex. In physical nature, the naturalist finds no difficulty in comprehending the simple structure of the lowest organizations of animal life, where one uniform texture, and one organ performing the office of brain and heart and lungs, at once, leave little to perplex. But when he comes to study the complex anatomy of men, he has the labor of a lifetime before him. It is not difficult to master the constitution of a single country; but when you try to understand the universe, you find infinite appearances of contradiction: law opposed by law; motion balanced by motion; happiness blended with misery; and the power to elicit a divine order and unity out of this complex variety is given to only a few of the gifted of the race. That which the structure of man is to the structure of the limpet, that which the universe is to a single country, the complex and boundless soul of Christ was to the souls of other men. Therefore, to the superficial observer, His life was a mass of inconsistencies and contradictions. All thought themselves qualified to point out the discrepancies. The Pharisees could not comprehend how a holy Teacher could eat with publicans and sinners. His own brethren could not reconcile His assumption of a public office with the privacy which He aimed at keeping. "If thou doest these things, show thyself to the world." Some thought He was "a good man"; others said, "Nay, but he deceiveth the people." And hence it was that He lived to see all that acceptance which had marked the earlier stage of His career--as, for instance, at Capernaum--melt away. First, the Pharisees took the alarm; then the Sadducees; then the political party of the Herodians; then the people. That was the most terrible of all: for the enmity of the upper classes is impotent; but when that cry of brute force is stirred from the deeps of society, as deaf to the voice of reason as the ocean in its strength churned into raving foam by the winds, the heart of mere earthly oak quails before that. The apostles, at all events, did quail. One denied; another betrayed; all deserted. They "were scattered, each to his own": and the Truth Himself was left alone in Pilate's judgment hall. Now learn from this a very important distinction. To feel solitary is no uncommon thing. To complain of being alone, without sympathy, and misunderstood, is general enough. In every place, in many a family, these victims of diseased sensibility are to be found, and they might find a weakening satisfaction in observing a parallel between their own feelings and those of Jesus. But before that parallel is assumed, be very sure that it is, as in His case, the elevation of your character which severs you from your species. The world has small sympathy for divine goodness; but it also has little for a great many other qualities which are disagreeable to it. You meet with no response; you are passed by; find yourself unpopular; meet with little communion. Well! Is that because you are above in the world--nobler, devising and executing grand plans, which they can not comprehend; vindicating the wronged; proclaiming and living on great principles; offending it by the saintliness of your purity, and the unworldliness of your aspirations? Then yours is the loneliness of Christ. Or is it that you are wrapped up in self, cold, disobliging, sentimental, indifferent about the welfare of others, and very much astonished that they are not deeply interested in you? You must not use these words of Christ. They have nothing to do with you. Let us look at one or two of the occasions on which this loneliness was felt. The first time was when He was but twelve years old, when His parents found Him in the temple, hearing the doctors and asking them questions. High thoughts were in the Child's soul: expanding views of life; larger views of duty, and His own destiny. There is a moment in every true life--to some it comes very early--when the old routine of duty is not large enough; when the parental roof seems too low, because the Infinite above is arching over the soul; when the old formulas, in creeds, catechisms, and articles, seem to be narrow, and they must either be thrown aside, or else transformed into living and breathing realities; when the earthly father's authority is being superseded by the claims of a Father in Heaven. That is a lonely, lonely moment, when the young soul first feels God--when this earth is recognized as an "awful place, yea, the very gate of heaven"; when the dream-ladder is seen planted against the skies, and we wake, and the dream haunts us as a sublime reality. You may detect the approach of that moment in the young man or the young woman by the awakened spirit of inquiry; by a certain restlessness of look, and an eager earnestness of tone; by the devouring study of all kinds of books; by the waning of your own influence, while the inquirer is asking the truth of the doctors and teachers in the vast temple of the world; by a certain opinionativeness, which is austere and disagreeable enough; but the austerest moment of the fruit's taste is that in which it is passing from greenness into ripeness. If you wait in patience, the sour will become sweet. Rightly looked at, that opinionativeness is more truly anguish; the fearful solitude of feeling the insecurity of all that is human; the discovery that life is real, and forms of social and religious existence hollow. The old moorings are torn away, and the soul is drifting, drifting, drifting, very often without compass, except the guidance of an unseen hand, into the vast infinite of God. Then come the lonely words, and no wonder. "How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?" That solitude was felt by Christ in trial. In the desert, in Pilate's judgment hall, in the garden, He was alone; and alone must every son of man meet his trial-hour. The individuality of the soul necessitates that. Each man is a new soul in this world: untried, with a boundless "Possible" before him. No one can predict what he may become, prescribe his duties, or mark out his obligations. Each man's own nature has its own peculiar rules; and he must take up his life-plan alone, and persevere in it in a perfect privacy with which no stranger intermeddleth. Each man's temptations are made up of a host of peculiarities, internal and external, which no other mind can measure. You are tried alone; alone you pass into the desert; alone you must bear and conquer in the agony; alone you must be sifted by the world. There are moments known only to a man's own self, when he sits by the poisoned springs of existence, "yearning for a morrow which shall free him from strife." And there are trials more terrible than that. Not when vicious inclinations are opposed to holy, but when virtue conflicts with virtue, is the real rending of the soul in twain. A temptation, in which the lower nature struggles for mastery, can be met by the whole united force of the spirit. But it is when obedience to a heavenly Father can be only paid by disobedience to an earthly one; or fidelity to duty can be only kept by infidelity to some entangling engagement; or the straight path must be taken over the misery of others; or the counsel of the affectionate friend must be met with a "Get thee behind me, Satan":--Oh! it is then, when human advice is unavailable, that the soul feels what it is to be alone. Once more: the Redeemer's soul was alone in dying. The hour had come--they were all gone, and He was, as He predicted, left alone. All that is human drops from us in that hour. Human faces flit and fade, and the sounds of the world become confused. "I shall die alone"--yes, and alone you live. The philosopher tells us that no atom in creation touches another atom; they all approach within a certain distance; then the attraction ceases, and an invisible something repels--they only seem to touch. No soul touches another soul except at one or two points, and those chiefly external--a fearful and lonely thought, but one of the truest of life. Death only realizes that which has been fact all along. In the central deeps of our being we are alone. II. The spirit or temper of that solitude. Observe its grandeur. I am alone, yet not alone. This is a feeble and sentimental way in which we speak of the Man of sorrows. We turn to the cross, and the agony, and the loneliness, to touch the softer feelings, to arouse compassion. You degrade that loneliness by your compassion. Compassion! compassion for Him! Adore if you will--respect and reverence that sublime solitariness with which none but the Father was--but no pity; let it draw out the firmer and manlier graces of the soul. Even tender sympathy seems out of place. For even in human beings, the strength that is in a man can only be learnt when he is thrown upon his own resources and left alone. What a man can do in conjunction with others does not test the man. Tell us what he can do alone. It is one thing to defend the truth when you know that your audience are already prepossest, and that every argument will meet a willing response; and it is another thing to hold the truth when truth must be supported, if at all, alone--met by cold looks and unsympathizing suspicion. It is one thing to rush on to danger with the shouts and the sympathy of numbers; it is another thing when the lonely chieftain of the sinking ship sees the last boat-full disengage itself, and folds his arms to go down into the majesty of darkness, crushed, but not subdued. Such and greater far was the strength and majesty of the Savior's solitariness. It was not the trial of the lonely hermit. There is a certain gentle and pleasing melancholy in the life which is lived alone. But there are the forms of nature to speak to him; and he has not the positive opposition of mankind, if he has the absence of actual sympathy. It is a solemn thing, doubtless, to be apart from men, and to feel eternity rushing by like an arrowy river. But the solitude of Christ was the solitude of a crowd. In that single human bosom dwelt the thought which was to be the germ of the world's life, a thought unshared, misunderstood, or rejected. Can you not feel the grandeur of those words, when the Man, reposing on His solitary strength, felt the last shadow of perfect isolation pass across His soul:--"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Next, learn from these words self-reliance. "Ye shall leave me alone." Alone, then, the Son of Man was content to be. He threw Himself on His own solitary thought: did not go down to meet the world; but waited, tho it might be for ages, till the world should come round to Him. He appealed to the future, did not aim at seeming consistent, left His contradictions unexplained: I came from the Father: I leave the world, and go to the Father. "Now," said they, "Thou speakest no proverb"; that is enigma. But many a hard and enigmatical saying before He had spoken, and He left them all. A thread runs through all true acts, stringing them together into one harmonious chain: but it is not for the Son of God to be anxious to prove their consistency with each other. This is self-reliance, to repose calmly on the thought which is deepest in our bosoms, and be unmoved if the world will not accept it yet. To live on your own convictions against the world, is to overcome the world--to believe that what is truest in you is true for all: to abide by that, and not be over-anxious to be heard or understood, or sympathized with, certain that at last all must acknowledge the same, and that, while you stand firm, the world will come round to you, that is independence. It is not difficult to get away into retirement, and there live upon your own convictions; nor is it difficult to mix with men, and follow their convictions; but to enter into the world, and there live out firmly and fearlessly according to your own conscience--that is Christian greatness. There is a cowardice in this age which is not Christian. We shrink from the consequences of truth. We look round and cling dependently. We ask what men will think; what others will say; whether they will stare in astonishment. Perhaps they will; but he who is calculating that will accomplish nothing in this life. The Father--the Father which is with us and in us--what does He think? God's work can not be done without a spirit of independence. A man has got some way in the Christian life when he has learned to say humbly, and yet majestically, "I dare to be alone." Lastly, remark the humility of this loneliness. Had the Son of Man simply said, I can be alone, He would have said no more than any proud, self-relying man can say; but when He added, "because the Father is with me," that independence assumed another character, and self-reliance became only another form of reliance upon God. Distinguish between genuine and spurious humility. There is a false humility which says, "It is my own poor thought, and I must not trust it. I must distrust my own reason and judgment, because they are my own. I must not accept the dictates of my own conscience; for is it not my own, and is not trust in self the great fault of our fallen nature?" Very well. Now, remember something else. There is a Spirit which beareth witness in our spirits; there is a God who "is not far from any one of us"; there is a "Light which lighteth every man which cometh into the world." Do not be unnaturally humble. The thought of your own mind perchance is the thought of God. To refuse to follow that may be to disown God. To take the judgment and conscience of other men to live by, where is the humility of that? From whence did their conscience and judgment come? Was the fountain from which they drew exhausted for you? If they refused like you to rely on their own conscience, and you rely upon it, how are you sure that it is more the mind of God than your own which you have refused to hear? Look at it in another way. The charm of the words of great men--those grand sayings which are recognized as true as soon as heard--is this, that you recognize them as wisdom which passed across your own mind. You feel that they are your own thoughts come back to you, else you would not at once admit them: "All that floated across me before, only I could not say it, and did not feel confident enough to assert it, or had not conviction enough to put into words." Yes, God spoke to you what He did to them: only they believed it, said it, trusted the Word within them, and you did not. Be sure that often when you say, "It is only my own poor thought, and I am alone," the real correcting thought is this, "Alone, but the Father is with me,"--therefore I can live by that lonely conviction. There is no danger in this, whatever timid minds may think--no danger of mistake, if the character be a true one. For we are not in uncertainty in this matter. It has been given us to know our base from our noble hours: to distinguish between the voice which is from above, and that which speaks from below, out of the abyss of our animal and selfish nature. Samuel could distinguish between the impulse--quite a human one--which would have made him select Eliab out of Jesse's sons, and the deeper judgment by which "the Lord said, Look not on his countenance, nor on the height of his stature, for I have refused him." Doubtless deep truth of character is required for this: for the whispering voices get mixed together, and we dare not abide by our own thoughts, because we think them our own, and not God's: and this because we only now and then endeavor to know in earnest. It is only given to the habitually true to know the difference. He knew it, because all His blessed life long He could say, "My judgment is just, because I seek not my own will, but the will of him who sent me." The practical result and inference of all this is a very simple, but a very deep one: the deepest of existence. Let life be a life of faith. Do not go timorously about, inquiring what others think, and what others believe, and what others say. It seems the easiest, it is the most difficult thing in life to do this. Believe in God. God is near you. Throw yourself fearlessly upon Him. Trembling mortal, there is an unknown light within your soul, which will wake when you command it. The day may come when all that is human, man and woman, will fall off from you; as they did from Him. Let His strength be yours. Be independent of them all now. The Father is with you. Look to Him, and He will save you. HITCHCOCK ETERNAL ATONEMENT BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE ROSWELL DWIGHT HITCHCOCK was born at East Machias, Maine, in 1817. To his pulpit delivery, which was direct, fluent and impressive, he brought the results of profound Bible research. He was an evangelical transcendentalist, and for many years addressed large and cultured congregations in New York City. As a teacher he was clear and inspiring, particularly in historical theology. In 1880 he was made president of the Union Theological Seminary. His best-known work is the "Complete Analysis of the Bible." He died in 1887. HITCHCOCK 1817-1887 ETERNAL ATONEMENT[2] [2] From Dr. Hitchcock's book of the same title by permission of the publishers. Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons. _And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world_.--Revelation xiii., 8. My subject is the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world. My text is Revelation xiii., 8, the precise import of which is disputed; and I will therefore give you the rival renderings. As we have been used to it in the Authorized Version, it reads: "Written in the book of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world." The Anglican revisers, following the lead of Alford, make no essential change: "Written in the book of life of the Lamb that hath been slain from the foundation of the world." The American revisers, following the lead of Bengel, De Wette, and many others, would have it: "Written from the foundation of the world in the book of life of the Lamb that hath been slain." The American rendering makes the election eternal. The Anglican rendering makes the atonement eternal. The prevalent opinion no doubt has been that the atonement is simply an historic fact, dating back now some nineteen hundred years; and that only the purpose of it is eternal. But Johann Wessel, the great German theologian, who died only six years after Martin Luther was born, got hold of the idea that not election only, but atonement also, is an eternal act. And this, it seems to me, is both rational and scriptural. Eternal election, profoundly considered, requires eternal atonement for its support. Both are eternal, as all divine realities are eternal. If the passage in Revelation were given up, we should still have to deal with 1 Peter i., 19, 20, where the Lamb is spoken of as foreknown before the foundation of the world, but manifested at the end of the times; eternal reality becoming temporal fact. We should still have to deal with John xvii., 24, which also carries back into eternity the redeeming relationship between the Father and the Son. Even on Calvary, as temporal actuality, the Lamb slain is only a figure of speech, and, of course, it can be no more than a figure of speech as eternal reality in the bosom of God. But whether in time, or in eternity--whether on Calvary or in the bosom of God, the figure must stand for something. For us the meaning is, and must be, that not election only, but atonement also, is eternal. And so the relationship of God to moral evil stands forth as an eternal relationship. Not that evil is itself eternal; but God always knew it and always felt it. It may help our thinking in this direction to remember that there is a sense in which creation itself is eternal; not independently eternal, but, of God's will, dependently eternal. There must nothing be said, or thought, in mitigation of the ethical verdict against moral evil. The hatefulness of it, no matter what its chronology may be, is simply unspeakable. Violated law is monstrous. Unmindfulness of God, who has always been so mindful of us, is mean. Never to pray, either in one's closet or in one's family, is against all the proprieties. Idolatry is childish and contemptible. Profaneness of speech is scandalous. Neglect of holy time is robbery. Disobedience to parents is shameful. Murder is hideous. Unchastity murders the soul, is indeed both murder and suicide. And so of all the rest. Theft, falsehood, and even inordinate desire are abominable. Imagine a community, larger or smaller--a family, a township, a state, or a nation--where the Ten Commandments are persistently trampled under foot, and you will have imagined a community intolerable even to itself. And if this be our human judgment, what must the divine judgment be? The more pure and righteous a moral being is, the more squarely he must antagonize, more intensely he must hate, the more surely he must punish impurity and unrighteousness. Volcanic fire inside the globe, forked lightning outside of it, are faint emblems of holy wrath. Wrong doing is the one thing nowhere, and never, to be either condoned or endured. Physical accident, bodily sickness, financial disaster, social bereavement, may all be pitied. But when a thoroughly bad man stands revealed, only lightning is logical. He that sows the wind ought to reap the whirlwind. It was a great philosopher who stood amazed at the starry sky, and at the moral sense in man. Well he might. There is no softness in the midnight sky; only cold blue marble, and a steady blaze that never relents, and is never tired. You can not endure that blaze, you dare not risk yourself out alone among those gleaming orbs with a guilty secret in your bosom. The universe is instinct with law that never abdicates. Remorse is not repentance; and even repentance washes out no stain. Self-forgiveness is impossible. The trumpet is always sounding; every day is a judgment-day; and every one of us goes to the left. Gehenna is the only logical goal of sin. Nor should any attempt be made to get at the genesis of moral evil. The beginning of it is simply inconceivable. The whole thing is a mystery and must be let alone. Moral evil is not eternal; or there would be two infinities. Nor is it a creature of God; or God would be divided against Himself. And yet it had the divine permission, whatever that may be imagined to have been. With every attribute roused and alert--infinity of power, infinity of wisdom, infinity of holiness--God stood by and let evil enter. Angels revolted first, somewhere among the stars. Mankind revolted. Was evil really unavoidable in a proper moral system? If so, immorality is not immoral. Evil that is really essential to good should not be considered evil. It would be only the bitter bud of the fragrant blossom and the luscious fruit. Or, putting it in another form, will you say that God could not have prevented evil? He certainly could have prevented it. In Heaven to-day, what is the security of saints and angels, of your own dear sainted mother, of Gabriel himself, but God's own grace constraining the will of every saint, constraining the will of every seraph? What is human sin but the abuse of human appetites, of human passions, of human faculties, in themselves all innocent? Study the lesson of our Lord's temptation in the desert. Certainly, He was not tempted as we are, by inflamed appetites and passions, by impaired and disordered faculties. But He possest all these natural appetites, passions, and faculties; and they were put to a real and a tremendous strain. That "great duel," as Milton calls it, was no sham fight; one or the other had to go down. Christ was gnawed by hunger, but refused to eat. He saw what might be done by a brilliant miracle towards inaugurating His Jewish ministry, but refused to work it. He saw the short, Satanic path to Messianic dominion, but chose Gethsemane and Calvary. Now the first Adam was just as cool and just as innocent as the second Adam. And, with more of grace to strengthen him, he too might have stood. There was no real necessity for that first human disobedience. It was sheer, wanton, gratuitous, inexplicable apostasy. Somewhat more of divine constraint, and the catastrophe would certainly have been averted. Call it non-prevention, call it permission, call it anything you please, somehow sin entered in spite of God's hating it. It came knocking for admission, and God's shoulder was not against the gate. For some reason, or reasons, not revealed, perhaps not revealable, God thought it best not to put His shoulder against the gate. The hateful and hated thing pushed through. Ormuzd let in Ahriman. I thank the Persian for these two words. They embody and emphasize the historic dualism of good and evil. The historic dualism, you will observe I say; there is no other dualism. God is One; and Master of all. The divine permission of hateful and hated evil, when we fairly apprehend it, is a tremendous statement, which might well be challenged, were not the thing itself so undeniably a fact. This is as far as we can go. Here we halt, with our bruised and throbbing foreheads hard up against the granite cliff. Practically, historic sin finds relief in historic redemption. Apparently, there was little, if any, interval between the two. Sin came, perhaps, with the noontide rest. "In the cool of the day"--that same day, most likely--the offended Lord came walking in the garden. The colloquy had a sharp beginning, but a mellow ending. The bitten heel would finally crush the biting head. And the struggle at once began. The Lord came down very close to His erring, guilty, frightened children. And they clung very closely to Him. We are in great danger of underrating that primitive economy of grace. The record is very brief, and the Oriental genius of it seems strange to us. But we see an altar there; and it can have but one meaning. Ages after, in all the nobler ethnic religions--Egyptian, Indian, Persian, and Pelasgic--we encounter echoes and survivals of that first vouchsafement of revelation. In all the great religions, we find one God; in all of them, personal immortality, with retribution; in most of them, divine triads; in two of them at least, the resurrection of the body. If it be true, as we may well believe, that Socrates is now in Heaven, singing the new song, it is because he sacrificed; and he sacrificed, whether he fully understood it or not, because of that colloquy in the garden. And if that sufficed for him, the Providence of God is justified. Historic sin is fairly matched, and overmatched, by historic redemption. But the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world, suggests a far sublimer theodicy. We are taken back behind the human ages, behind all time, into awful infinite depths, into the very bosom of the triune God. Theological science recognizes two trinities, which it calls economic and essential. The former began with historic redemption, and kept pace with it. Father, Son, and Spirit stood for law, redemption, and regeneration. It was economic trinity that suggested essential trinity. But for the historic process, the question might not have seemed worth asking, whether God is one only, or three also, and the three in one. The Hebrew mind, as represented by Philo, was only just beginning to be trinitarian, when Christ's life in the flesh compelled the Hebrew mind, as represented by Peter, Paul, and John, to a new theology. After Pentecost, bald Unitarianism was anachronous. Christian experience logically required three divine persons, of one and the same divine essence. Economic trinity required essential trinity. Essential trinity is anything but an arbitrary conception of God. Wyclif taught it at Oxford as a necessary doctrine of reason. Trinity is another name for the self-consciousness, and self-communion, of God. Father, Son, and Spirit are vastly more than the revelation of God to man; they are the revelation of God to Himself, and the intercourse of God with Himself. They suggest infinite fulness and richness of being. Our scientific definitions of God do not amount to much. At best, they formulate only very inadequate conceptions of Him. It is assumed that these scientific definitions of God take us farther than the Biblical descriptions of God. We had better not feel too sure of that. Attributes in action may impart a better knowledge than attributes abstractedly defined. Pictures for children may be better than creeds and catechisms. What we need is to see God in the life both of nature, and of man. This the Hebrew prophets enable us to do by their anthropomorphic and anthropopathic pictures of God. If you say the pictures are childish, then I must say that we are children, all of us, and had better be children. It is no real scandal to science to be told, that "the eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good"; that "the eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and his ears are open unto their cry"; that the Lord "smelled a sweet savor" from Noah's altar; while wicked men are consumed by "the breath of his nostrils"; that "the voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars of Lebanon"; and He "walketh upon the wings of the wind"; and that at last, in the Messianic time, "the Lord will make bare his holy arm in the eyes of all the nations." God is not a mere aggregate of attributes. He has a personality as distinct and positive as yours and mine. But the personality is infinite in all its outgoings. God's being is a vast abyss which no plummet has ever sounded. Imagine all you can of boundless power, constantly at work; of boundless intelligence, constantly at work; of boundless passion, constantly at work: God is all that, and immeasurably more than that. What right has any one to say that God is passionless? God Himself has never said it. He is not passionless. Like the sun, He is all aflame; He rejoices in the truth; He hates a lie. He is pleased with what is right, and displeased with what is wrong. Good men are the apple of His eye; bad men His abomination and His scorn. Rendered literally, "God is a righteous Judge, and a God who is angry every day." But God is love. So says John in that famous passage, over which the theologians are still disputing, whether the meaning be that love is only one of the divine attributes, or is that very essence of God, into which every other attribute may be resolved. Some of the profoundest thinkers of our day accept these three words of John, "God is love," as the final definition of God. Sunshine striking a teardrop may give us the seven colors of the rainbow; but the seven colors are all one blessed light. God creates, governs, judges, punishes, pities, redeems, and saves; but love is the root of all. It was love that created this wonderous universe, to which science can set no bounds. It was love that created angels, tho some of them rebelled, and were "delivered into chains of darkness." It was love that created this human brotherhood, all of whom have rebelled and gone astray. This rebellion was permitted; but was rebellion all the same. God feels it; and has always felt it. Absalom has broken his father's heart; and we are Absalom. The grand old King goes up over Olivet weeping, with his head covered, and his feet bare; and that King is God. Only He is the King Eternal, and His agony over sin is also eternal. This agony of God over human sin is the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world. God Himself atones, to Himself atones; and so atonement is both eternal and divine. In that matchless epitome of the gospel--that parable of the Prodigal Son, reported only by Luke--not a word is said, not a glimpse is given, of the father of the prodigal during all that interval between the departure and return. A veil is drawn over all those bitter, weary years. So has God yearned and suffered in the silent depths of His own eternity, waiting and watching for the repentant prodigal. This yearning, grieved, and suffering God is the God and Father of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ; Son of God, Son of Mary. This sinless Child should have had no griefs of His own. His sorrows could have been only those old eternal shadows of permitted sin. The cross on which He died, flinging out its arms as if to embrace the world, lifted up its head toward the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world. Our hearts now go back to Calvary; and from Calvary they go up to God. One word more. This stupendous idea of eternal atonement carries with it the idea of universal atonement. Whatever it was, and is, must needs have been infinite. No magnitude of sin, no multitude of sinners, can bankrupt its treasury of grace. "God so loved the world," is its everlasting refrain. "He that will, let him take of the water of life freely." "Take" is the word, my hearers. Let us remember this. There is something for us to do. God Himself can not pardon an impenitent offender. If pardon were offered, it could not be accepted. It is a law of our own being, that we must repent. O Lamb of God, slain so long ago, save us at last, when Thou comest in the clouds; and save us here to-day. It is one of the revelations of Scripture that we are to judge the angels, sitting above them on the shining heights. It may well be so. Those angels are the imperial guard, doing easy duty at home. We are the "tenth legion," marching in from the swamps and forests of the far-off frontier; scarred and battered, but victorious over death and sin.[3] [3] The following stanza from Dean Alford's grand hymn appears upon the last page of this, the last sermon written by Dr. Hitchcock. By a singular coincidence it was the stanza especially selected to be sung in the burial service at Dr. Hitchcock's funeral, altho in entire ignorance of its existence in the manuscript. Ten thousand times ten thousand In sparkling raiment bright, The armies of the ransom'd saints Throng up the steps of light; 'Tis finish'd, all is finish'd, Their fight with death and sin: Fling open wide the golden gates, And let the victors in. KINGSLEY THE SHAKING OF THE HEAVENS AND THE EARTH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE CHARLES KINGSLEY was born at Holne Vicarage, Devonshire, in 1819. He was by temperament enthusiastic, impetuous, and great-hearted. His utterances were notable for their unusual earnestness. "I go at what I am about," he said, "as if there were nothing else in the world for the time being." In this way he completely lost himself in the work in hand. His favorite motto was "Be strong!" He had a poetic spirit, and was both vigorous and brilliant. He is known not only for his sermons and addresses, but also for his novels and some verse. He died in 1875. KINGSLEY 1819-1875 THE SHAKING OF THE HEAVENS AND THE EARTH _Yet once more I shake not the earth only, but also heaven. And this word, Yet once more, signifieth the removing of those things that are shaken, as of things that are made, that those things which can not be shaken may remain. Wherefore we receiving a kingdom which can not be moved, let us have grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear: for our God is a consuming fire._--Hebrews xii., 26-29. This is one of the royal texts of Scripture. It is inexhaustible, like the God who inspired it. It has fulfilled itself again and again, at different epochs. It fulfilled itself specially and notoriously in the first century. But it fulfilled itself again in the fifth century; and again at the Crusades; and again at the Reformation in the sixteenth century. And it may be that it is fulfilling itself at this very day; that in this century, both in the time of our fathers and in our own, the Lord has been shaking the heavens and the earth, that those things which can be shaken may be removed, as things that are made, while those things which can not be shaken remain. All confess this to be true, each in his own words. They talk of this age as one of change; of rapid progress, for good or evil; of unexpected discoveries; of revolutions, intellectual, moral, social, as well as political. Our notions of the physical universe are rapidly altering, with the new discoveries of science; and our notions of ethics and theology are altering as rapidly. The era assumes a different aspect to different minds, just as it did the first century after Christ, according as men look forward to the future with hope, or back to the past with regret. Some glory in the nineteenth century as one of rapid progress for good; as the commencement of a new era for humanity; as the inauguration of a Reformation as grand as that of the sixteenth century. Others bewail it as an age of rapid decay; in which the old landmarks are being removed, the old paths lost; in which we are rushing headlong into skepticism and atheism; in which the world and the Church are both in danger, and the last day is at hand. Both parties may be right; and yet both may be wrong. Men have always talked thus, at great crises in the world's life. They talked thus in the first century; and in the fifth, and in the eleventh; and again in the sixteenth; and then both parties were partially right and partially wrong; and so they may be now. What they meant to say, what they wanted to say, what we mean and want to say, has been said already for us in far deeper, wider, and more accurate words, by him who wrote this wonderful Epistle to the Hebrews, when he told the Jews of his time that the Lord was shaking the heavens and the earth, that those things which were shaken might be removed, as things that are made--cosmogonies, systems, theories, prejudices, fashions, of man's invention: while those things which could not be shaken might remain, because they were according to the mind and will of God, eternal as that source from whence they came forth, even the bosom of God the Father. "Yet once more I shake, not the earth only, but also heaven." How has the earth been shaken in our days; and the heaven likewise. How rapidly have our conceptions of both altered. How easy, simple, certain, it all looked to our forefathers in the middle age. How difficult, complex, uncertain, it all looks to us. With increased knowledge has come--not increased doubt: that I deny utterly. I deny, once and for all, that this age is an irreverent age. I say that an irreverent age is one like the age of the Schoolmen; when men defined and explained all heaven and earth by à priori theories, and cosmogonies invented in the cloister; and dared, poor, simple, ignorant mortals, to fancy that they could comprehend and gauge the ways of Him whom the heaven and the heaven of heavens could not contain. This, this is irreverence: but it is neither irreverence nor want of faith, if a man, awed by the mystery which encompasses him from the cradle to the grave, shall lay his hand upon his mouth, with Job, and obey the Voice which cries to him from earth and heaven--"Be still, and know that as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than thy ways, and my thoughts higher than thine." But it was all easy, and simple, and certain enough to our forefathers. The earth, according to the popular notion, was a flat plane; or, if it were, as the wiser held, a sphere, yet antipodes were an unscriptural heresy. Above it were the heavens, in which the stars were fixed, or wandered; and above them heaven after heaven, each tenanted by its own orders of beings, up to that heaven of heavens in which Deity--and by Him, be it always remembered, the mother of Deity--was enthroned. And if above the earth was the kingdom of light, and purity, and holiness, what could be more plain, than that below it was the kingdom of darkness, and impurity, and sin? That was no theory to our forefathers: it was a physical fact. Had not even the heathens believed as much, and said so, by the mouth of the poet Virgil? He had declared that the mouth of Tartarus lay in Italy, hard by the volcanic lake Avernus; and after the unexpected eruption of Vesuvius in the first century, nothing seemed more clear than that Virgil was right; and that men were justified in talking of Tartarus, Styx, and Phlegethon as indisputable Christian entities. Etna, Stromboli, Hecla, were (according to this cosmogony) likewise mouths of hell; and there were not wanting holy hermits, who had heard from within those craters, shrieks, and clanking chains, and the howls of demons tormenting the souls of the endlessly lost. Our forefathers were not aware that, centuries before the incarnation of our Lord, the Buddhist priests had held exactly the same theory of moral retribution; and that painted on the walls of Buddhist temples might be seen horrors identical with those which adorned the walls of many a Christian church, in the days when men believed in this Tartarology as firmly as they now believe in the results of chemistry or of astronomy. And now--How is the earth shaken, and the heavens likewise, in that very sense in which the expression is used by him who wrote to the Hebrews? Our conceptions of them are shaken. How much of that medieval cosmogony do educated men believe, in the sense in which they believe that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles, or that if they steal their neighbor's goods they commit a sin? The earth has been shaken for us, more and more violently, as the years have rolled on. It was shaken when astronomy told us that the earth was not the center of the universe, but a tiny planet revolving round a sun in a remote region thereof. It was shaken, when geology told us that the earth had endured for countless ages, during which continents had become oceans, and oceans continents, again and again. And even now, it is being shaken by researches into the antiquity of man, into the origin and permanence of species, which, let the result be what it will, must in the meanwhile shake for us theories and dogmas which have been undisputed for 1500 years. And with the rest of our cosmogony, that conception of a physical Tartarus below the earth has been shaken likewise, till good men have been fain to find a fresh place for it in the sun, or in a comet; or to patronize the probable, but as yet unproved theory of a central fire within the earth; not on any scientific grounds, but simply if by any means they can assign a region in space, wherein material torment can be inflicted on the spirits of the lost. And meanwhile the heavens, the spiritual world, is being shaken no less. More and more frequently, more and more loudly, men are asking, not skeptics merely, but pious men, men who wish to be, and who believe themselves to be, orthodox Christians, more and more loudly are such men asking questions which demand an answer, with a learning and an eloquence, as well as with a devoutness and a reverence for Scripture, which--whether rightly or wrongly employed--is certain to command attention. Rightly or wrongly, these men are asking, whether the actual and literal words of Scripture really involve the medieval theory of an endless Tartarus. They are saying, "It is not we who deny, but you who assert, endless torments, who are playing fast and loose with the letter of Scripture. You are reading into it conceptions borrowed from Virgil, Dante, Milton, when you translate into the formula 'endless torment' such phrases as 'the outer darkness,' 'the fire of Gehenna,' the 'worm that dieth not'; which, according to all just laws of interpretation, refer not to the next life, but to this life, and specially to the approaching catastrophe of the Jewish nation; or when you say that eternal death really means eternal life--only life in torture." Rightly or wrongly, they are saying this; and then they add, "We do not yield to you in love and esteem for Scripture. We demand not a looser, but a stricter; not a more metaphoric, but a more literal; not a more contemptuous, but a more reverent interpretation thereof." So these men speak, rightly or wrongly. And for good or for evil, they will be heard. And with these questions others have arisen, not new at all, say these men, but to be found amid many contradictions, in the writings of all the best divines, when they have given up for a moment systems and theories, and listened to the voice of their own hearts; questions natural enough to an age which abhors cruelty, has abolished torture, labors for the reformation of criminals, and debates, rightly or wrongly, about abolishing capital punishment. Men are asking questions about the heaven, the spiritual world, and saying, "The spiritual world? Is it only another material world which happens to be invisible now, but which may become visible hereafter: or is it not rather the moral world--the world of right and wrong? Heaven? Is not the true and real heaven the kingdom of love, justice, purity, beneficence? Is not that the eternal heaven wherein God abides for ever, and with Him those who are like God? And hell? Is it not rather the anarchy of hate, injustice, impurity, uselessness; wherein abides all that is opposed to God?" And with these thoughts come others about moral retribution--"What is its purpose? Can it, can any punishment have any right purpose save the correction, or the annihilation, of the criminal? Can God, in this respect, be at once less merciful and less powerful than men? Is He so controlled by necessity that He is forced to bring into the world beings whom he knows to be incorrigible, and doomed to endless misery? And if not so controlled, is not the alternative as to His character even more fearful? He bids us copy His justice, His love. Is that His justice, that His love, which if we copied, we should call each other, and deservedly, utterly unjust and unloving? Can there be one morality for God, and another for man, made in the image of God? Are these dark dogmas worthy of a Father who hateth nothing that He hath made, and is perfect in this, that He makes His sun shine on the evil and on the good, and His rain fall on the just and on the unjust, and is good to the unthankful and to the evil? Are they worthy of a Son who, in the fire of His divine charity, stooped from heaven to earth, to toil, to suffer, to die on the cross, that the world by Him might be saved? Are they worthy of that which proceeds from the Father and the Son, even that Spirit of boundless charity, and fervent love, by which the Son offered Himself to the Father, a sacrifice for the sins of the world--and surely not in vain?" So men are asking, rightly or wrongly; and they are guarding themselves, at the same time, from the imputation of disbelief in moral retribution; of fancying God to be a careless, epicurean deity, cruelly indulgent to sin, and therefore, in so far, immoral. They say--"We believe firmly enough in moral retribution. How can we help believing in it, while we see it working around us, in many a fearful shape, here, now, in this life? And we believe that it may work on, in still more fearful shapes, in the life to come. We believe that as long as a sinner is impenitent, he must be miserable; that if he goes on impenitent for ever, he must go on making himself miserable, aye, it may be more and more miserable for ever. Only do not tell us that he must go on. That his impenitence, and therefore his punishment, is irremediable, necessary, endless; and thereby destroy the whole purpose, and we should say, the whole morality, of his punishment. If that punishment be corrective, our moral sense is not shocked by any severity, by any duration: but if it is irremediable, it can not be corrective; and then, what it is, or why it is, we can not--or rather dare not--say. We, too, believe in an eternal fire. But because we believe also the Athanasian Creed, which tells us that there is but one eternal, we believe that that fire must be the fire of God, and therefore, like all that is in God and of God, good and not evil, a blessing and not a curse. We believe that that fire is for ever burning, tho men are for ever trying to quench it all day long; and that it has been and will be in every age burning up all the chaff and stubble of man's inventions; the folly, the falsehood, the ignorance, the vice of this sinful world; and we praise God for it; and give thanks to Him for His great glory, that He is the everlasting and triumphant foe of evil and misery, of whom it is written, that our God is a consuming fire." Such words are being spoken, right or wrong. Such words will bear their fruit, for good or evil. I do not pronounce how much of them is true or false. It is not my place to dogmatize and define, where the Church of England, as by law established, has declined to do so. Neither is it for you to settle these questions. It is rather a matter for your children. A generation more, it may be, of earnest thought will be required, ere the true answer has been found. But it is your duty, if you be educated and thoughtful persons, to face these questions; to consider whether you are believing the exact words of the Bible, and the conclusions of your own reason and moral sense; or whether you are merely believing that cosmogony elaborated in the cloister, that theory of moral retribution pardonable in the middle age, which Dante and Milton sang. But this I do not hesitate to say, That if we of the clergy can find no other answers to these doubts than those which were reasonable and popular in an age when men racked women, burned heretics, and believed that every Mussulman killed in a crusade went straight to Tartarus, then very serious times are at hand, both for the Christian clergy and for Christianity itself. What, then, are we to believe and do? Shall we degenerate into a lazy skepticism, which believes that everything is a little true, and everything a little false--in plain words, believes nothing at all? Or shall we degenerate into faithless fears, and unmanly wailings that the flood of infidelity is irresistible, and that Christ has left His Church? We shall do neither, if we believe the text. That tells us of a firm standing ground amid the wreck of fashions and opinions; of a kingdom which can not be moved, tho the heavens pass away like a scroll, and the earth be burnt up with a fervent heat. And it tells us that the King of that kingdom is He, who is called Jesus Christ--the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. An eternal and changeless kingdom, and an eternal and changeless King--these the Epistle to the Hebrews preaches to all generations. It does not say that we have an unchangeable cosmogony, an unchangeable eschatology, an unchangeable theory of moral retribution, an unchangeable dogmatic system; not to these does it point the Jews, while their own nation and worship were in their very death-agony, and the world was rocking and reeling round them, decay and birth going on side by side, in a chaos such as man had never seen before. Not to these does the epistle point the Hebrews: but to the changeless kingdom and to the changeless King. My friends, do you really believe in that kingdom, and in that King? Do you believe that you are now actually in a kingdom of heaven, which can not be moved; and that the living, acting, guiding, practical, real King thereof is Christ who died on the cross? These are days in which a preacher is bound to ask his congregation--and still more to ask himself--whether he really believes in that kingdom, and in that King; and to bid himself and them, if they have not believed earnestly enough therein, to repent of having neglected that most cardinal doctrine of Scripture and of the Christian faith. But if we really believe in that changeless kingdom and in that changeless King, shall we not--considering who Christ is, the coequal and coeternal Son of God--believe also, that if the heavens and the earth are being shaken, then Christ Himself may be shaking them? That if opinions be changing, then Christ Himself may be changing them? That if new truths are being discovered, Christ Himself may be revealing them? That if some of those truths seem to contradict those which He has revealed already, they do not really contradict them? That, as in the sixteenth century, Christ is burning up the wood and stubble with which men have built on His foundation, that the pure gold of His truth may alone be left? It is at least possible; it is probable, if we believe that Christ is a living, acting King, to whom all power is given in heaven and earth, and who is actually exercising that power; and educating Christendom, and through Christendom the whole human race, to a knowledge of Himself, and through Himself of God their Father in heaven. Should we not say--We know that Christ has been so doing, for centuries and for ages? Through Abraham, through Moses, through the prophets, through the Greeks, through the Romans, and at last through Himself, He gave men juster and wider views of themselves, of the universe, and of God. And even then He did not stop. How could He, who said of Himself, "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work"? How could He, if He be the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever? Through the apostles, and especially through St. Paul, He enlarged, while He confirmed, His own teaching. And did He not do the same in the sixteenth century? Did He not then sweep from the minds and hearts of half Christendom beliefs which had been sacred and indubitable for a thousand years? Why should He not be doing so now? If it be answered, that the Reformation of the sixteenth century was only a return to simpler and purer apostolic truth--why, again, should it not be so now? Why should He not be perfecting His work one step more, and sweeping away more of man's inventions, which are not integral and necessary elements of the one catholic faith, but have been left behind, in pardonable human weakness, by our great reformers? Great they were, and good: giants on the earth, while we are but as dwarfs beside them. But, as the hackneyed proverb says, the dwarf on the giant's shoulders may see further than the giant himself: and so may we. Oh! that men would approach new truth in something of that spirit; in the spirit of reverence and godly fear, which springs from a living belief in Christ the living King, which is--as the text tells us--the spirit in which we can serve God acceptably. Oh! that they would serve God; waiting reverently and anxiously, as servants standing in the presence of their Lord, for the slightest sign or hint of His will. Then they would have grace by which they would receive new-thought with grace; gracefully, courteously, fairly, charitably, reverently; believing that, however strange or startling, it may come from Him whose ways are not as our ways, nor His thoughts as our thoughts; and that he who fights against it, may haply be fighting against God. True, they would receive all new thought with caution, that conservative spirit, which is the duty of every Christian; which is the peculiar strength of the Englishman, because it enables him calmly and slowly to take in the new, without losing the old which his forefathers have already won for him. So they would be cautious, even anxious, lest in grasping too greedily at seeming improvements, they let go some precious knowledge which they had already attained: but they would be on the lookout for improvements; because they would consider themselves, and their generation, as under a divine education. They would prove all things fairly and boldly, and hold fast that which is good; all that which is beautiful, noble, improving and elevating to human souls, minds, or bodies; all that increases the amount of justice, mercy, knowledge, refinement; all that lessens the amount of vice, cruelty, ignorance, barbarism. That at least must come from Christ. That at least must be the inspiration of the Spirit of God: unless the Pharisees were right after all when they said, that evil spirits could be cast out by the prince of the devils. Be these things as they may, one comfort it will give us, to believe firmly and actively in the changeless kingdom, and in the changeless King. It will give us calm, patience, faith and hope, tho the heavens and the earth be shaken around us. For then we shall see that the kingdom, of which we are citizens, is a kingdom of light, and not of darkness; of truth, and not of falsehood; of freedom, and not of slavery; of bounty and mercy, and not of wrath and fear; that we live and move and have our being not in a "_Deus quidam deceptor_" who grudges his children wisdom, but in a Father of Light, from whom comes every good and perfect gift; who willeth that all men should be saved, and come to the knowledge of the truth. In His kingdom we are; and in the King whom He has set over it we can have the most perfect trust. For us that King stooped from heaven to earth; for us He was born, for us He toiled, for us He suffered, for us He died, for us He rose, for us He sits for ever at God's right hand. And can we not trust Him? Let Him do what He will. Let Him lead us whither He will. Wheresoever He leads must be the way of truth and life. Whatsoever He does, must be in harmony with that infinite love which He displayed for us upon the cross. Whatsoever He does, must be in harmony with that eternal purpose by which He reveals to men God their Father. Therefore, tho the heaven and the earth be shaken around us, we will trust in Him. For we know that He is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever; and that His will and promise is, to lead those who trust in Him into all truth. CAIRD RELIGION IN COMMON LIFE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE JOHN CAIRD was born at Greenock, Scotland, in 1820. He attained great popularity as a preacher in Edinburgh. In 1862 he was called to Park Church, Glasgow, and in 1873 became Principal of Glasgow University. The sermon given here was preached before the Queen in 1855, and, printed by her command, attained an amazing circulation. Dr. Caird's deep and earnest thought was clothed almost invariably in clear and beautiful language. He had many gifts as a pulpit speaker. His voice was full and deep-toned, his manner gracious and sympathetic, and his gestures, tho infrequent, were always significant and graceful. He died in 1898. CAIRD 1820-1898 RELIGION IN COMMON LIFE[4] [4] Printed by permission of Messrs. William Blackwood & Sons, Publishers. _Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord._--Romans xii., 11. When a man is learning to be a Christian, it matters not what his particular work in life may be; the work he does is but the copy-line set to him; the main thing to be considered is that he learn to live well. The form is nothing, the execution is everything. It is true, indeed, that prayer, holy reading, meditation, the solemnities and services of the Church, are necessary to religion, and that these can be practised only apart from the work of secular life. But it is to be remembered that all such holy exercises do not terminate in themselves. They are but steps in the ladder to heaven, good only as they help us to climb. They are the irrigation and enriching of the spiritual soil--worse than useless if the crop become not more abundant. They are, in short, but means to an end--good, only in so far as they help us to be good and to do good--to glorify God and do good to man; and that end can perhaps best be attained by him whose life is a busy one, whose avocations bear him daily into contact with his fellows, into the intercourse of society, into the heart of the world. No man can be a thorough proficient in navigation who has never been at sea, tho he may learn the theory of it at home. No man can become a soldier by studying books on military tactics in his closet: he must in actual service acquire those habits of coolness, courage, discipline, address, rapid combination, without which the most learned in the theory of strategy or engineering will be but a schoolboy soldier after all. And, in the same way, a man in solitude and study may become a most learned theologian, or may train himself into the timid, effeminate piety of what is technically called "the righteous life." But never, in the highest and holiest sense, can he become a religious man, until he has acquired those habits of daily self-denial, of resistance to temptation, of kindness, gentleness, humility, sympathy, active beneficence, which are to be acquired only in daily contact with mankind. Tell us not, then, that the man of business, the bustling tradesman, the toil-worn laborer, has little or no time to attend to religion. As well tell us that the pilot, amid the winds and storms, has no leisure to attend to navigation--or the general, on the field of battle, to the art of war! Where will he attend to it? Religion is not a perpetual moping over good books--religion is not even prayer, praise, holy ordinances; these are necessary to religion--no man can be religious without them. But religion, I repeat, is, mainly and chiefly, the glorifying God amid the duties and trials of the world,--the guiding our course amid the adverse winds and currents of temptation, by the starlight of duty and the compass of divine truth,--the bearing us manfully, wisely, courageously, for the honor of Christ, our great Leader, in the conflict of life. Away then with the notion that ministers and devotees may be religious, but that a religious and holy life is impracticable in the rough and busy world! Nay rather, believe me, that is the proper scene, the peculiar and appropriate field for religion,--the place in which to prove that piety is not a dream of Sundays and solitary hours; that it can bear the light of day; that it can wear well amid the rough jostlings, the hard struggles, the coarse contacts of common life,--the place, in one word, to prove how possible it is for a man to be at once "not slothful in business," and "fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." Another consideration, which I shall adduce in support of the assertion that it is not impossible to blend religion with the business of common life, is this: that religion consists, not so much in doing spiritual or sacred acts, as in doing secular acts from a sacred or religious motive. There is a very common tendency in our minds to classify actions according to their outward form, rather than according to the spirit or motive which pervades them. Literature is sometimes arbitrarily divided into "sacred" and "profane" literature, history into "sacred" and "profane" history,--in which classification the term "profane" is applied, not to what is bad or unholy, but to everything that is not technically sacred or religious--to all literature that does not treat of religious doctrines and duties, and to all history save church history. And we are very apt to apply the same principle to actions. Thus in many pious minds there is a tendency to regard all the actions of common life as so much, by an unfortunate necessity, lost to religion. Prayer, the reading of the Bible and devotional books, public worship--and buying, selling, digging, sowing, bartering, money-making, are separated into two distinct, and almost hostile, categories. The religious heart and sympathies are thrown entirely into the former, and the latter are barely tolerated as a bondage incident to our fallen state, but almost of necessity tending to turn aside the heart from God. But what God has cleansed, why should we call common or unclean? The tendency in question, tho founded on right feeling, is surely a mistaken one. For it is to be remembered that moral qualities reside not in actions, but in the agent who performs them, and that it is the spirit or motive from which we do any work that constitutes it base or noble, worldly or spiritual, secular or sacred. The actions of an automaton may be outwardly the same as those of a moral agent, but who attributes to them goodness or badness? A musical instrument may discourse sacred melodies better than the holiest lips can sing them, but who thinks of commending it for its piety? It is the same with actions as with places. Just as no spot or scene on earth is in itself more or less holy than another, but the presence of a holy heart may hallow--or a base one desecrate--any place where it dwells; so with actions. Many actions, materially great and noble, may yet, because of the spirit that prompts and pervades them, be really ignoble and mean; and, on the other hand, many actions externally mean and lowly, may, because of the state of his heart who does them, be truly exalted and honorable. It is possible to fill the highest station on earth, and go through the actions pertaining to it in a spirit that degrades all its dignities, and renders all its high and courtly doings essentially sordid and vulgar. And it is no mere sentimentality to say that there may dwell in a lowly mechanic's or household servant's breast a spirit that dignifies the coarsest toils and "renders drudgery divine." Herod of old was a slave, tho he sat upon a throne; but who will say that the work of that carpenter's shop at Nazareth was not noble and kingly work indeed! A life spent amidst holy things may be intensely secular; a life, the most of which is passed in the thick and throng of the world, may be holy and divine. A minister, for instance, preaching, praying, ever speaking holy words and performing sacred acts, may be all the while doing actions no more holy than those of the printer who prints Bibles, or of the bookseller who sells them; for, in both cases alike, the whole affair may be nothing more than a trade. Nay, the comparison tells worse for the former, for the secular trade is innocent and commendable, but the trade which traffics and tampers with holy things is, beneath all its mock solemnity, "earthly, sensual, devilish." So, to adduce one other example, the public worship of God is holy work: no man can be living a holy life who neglects it. But the public worship of God may be--and with multitudes who frequent our churches is--degraded into work most worldly, most distasteful to the great Object of our homage. He "to whom all hearts be open, all desires known," discerns how many of you have come hither to-day from the earnest desire to hold communion with the Father of Spirits, to open your hearts to Him, to unburden yourselves in His loving presence of the cares and crosses that have been pressing hard upon you through the past week, and by common prayer and praise, and the hearing of His holy Word, to gain fresh incentive and energy for the prosecution of His work in the world; and how many, on the other hand, from no better motive, perhaps, than curiosity or old habit, or regard to decency and respectability, or the mere desire to get rid of yourselves, and pass a vacant hour that would hang heavy on your hands. And who can doubt that, where such motives as these prevail, to the piercing, unerring inspection of Him whom outwardly we seem to reverence, not the market-place, the exchange, the counting-room appears a place more intensely secular--not the most reckless and riotous festivity, a scene of more unhallowed levity, than is presented by the house of prayer? But, on the other hand, carry holy principles with you into the world, and the world will become hallowed by their presence. A Christ-like spirit will Christianize everything it touches. A meek heart, in which the altar-fire of love to God is burning, will lay hold of the commonest, rudest things in life, and transmute them, like coarse fuel at the touch of fire, into a pure and holy flame. Religion in the soul will make all the work and toil of life--its gains and losses, friendships, rivalries, competitions--its manifold incidents and events--the means of religious advancement. Marble or coarse clay, it matters not much with which of these the artist works, the touch of genius transforms the coarser material into beauty, and lends to the finer a value it never had before. Lofty or lowly, rude or refined, as our earthly work may be, it will become to a holy mind only the material for something infinitely nobler than all the creations of genius--a pure and godlike life. To spiritualize what is material, to Christianize what is secular--this is the noble achievement of Christian principle. If you are a sincere Christian, it will be your great desire, by God's grace, to bring every gift, talent, occupation of life, every word you speak, every action you do, under the control of Christian motive. Your conversation may not always--nay, may seldom, save with intimate friends--consist of formally religious words; you may perhaps shrink from the introduction of religious topics in general society; but it demands a less amount of Christian effort occasionally to speak religious words, than to infuse the spirit of religion into all our words; and if the whole tenor of your common talk be pervaded by a spirit of piety, gentleness, earnestness, sincerity, it will be Christian conversation not the less. If God has endowed you with intellectual gifts, it may be well if you directly devote them to His service in the religious instruction; but a man may be a Christian thinker and writer as much when giving to science, or history, or biography, or poetry, a Christian tone and spirit, as when composing sermons or writing hymns. To promote the cause of Christ directly, by furthering every religious and missionary enterprise at home and abroad, is undoubtedly your duty; but remember that your duty terminates not when you have done all this, for you may promote Christ's cause even still more effectually when in your daily demeanor--in the family, in society, in your business transactions, in all your common intercourse with the world--you are diffusing the influence of Christian principle around you by the silent eloquence of a holy life. Rise superior, in Christ's strength, to all equivocal practises and advantages in trade; shrink from every approach to meanness or dishonesty; let your eye, fixed on a reward before which earthly wealth grows dim, beam with honor; let the thought of God make you self-restrained, temperate, watchful over speech and conduct; let the abiding sense of Christ's redeeming love to you make you gentle, self-denying, kind, and loving to all around you;--then indeed will your secular life become spiritualized, whilst, at the same time, your spiritual life will grow more fervent; then not only will your prayers become more devout, but when the knee bends not, and the lip is silent, the life in its heavenward tone will "pray without ceasing;" then from amidst the roar and din of earthly toil the ear of God will hear the sweetest anthems rising; then, finally, will your daily experience prove that it is no high and unattainable elevation of virtue, but a simple and natural thing, to which the text points, when it bids us to be both "diligent in business" and "fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." As a last illustration of the possibility of blending religion with the business of common life, let me call your attention to what may be described as the mind's power of acting on latent principles. In order to live a religious life in the world, every action must be governed by religious motives. But in making this assertion, it is not by any means implied that in all the familiar actions of our daily life religion must form a direct and conscious object of thought. To be always thinking of God, and Christ, and eternity amidst our worldly work, and, however busy, eager, interested we may be in the special business before us, to have religious ideas, doctrines, beliefs, present to the mind,--this is simply impossible. The mind can no more consciously think of heaven and earth at the same moment than the body can be in heaven and earth at the same moment. Moreover there are few kinds of work in the world that, to be done well, must not be done heartily, many that require, in order to excellence, the whole condensed force and energy of the highest mind. But tho it be true that we can not, in our worldly work, be always consciously thinking of religion, yet it is also true that unconsciously, we may be acting under its ever-present control. As there are laws and powers in the natural world of which, without thinking of them, we are ever availing ourselves,--as I do not think of gravitation when I move my limbs, or of atmospheric laws when, by means of them, I breathe, so in the routine of daily work, tho comparatively seldom do I think of them, I may yet be constantly swayed by the motives, sustained by the principles, living, breathing, acting in the invisible atmosphere of true religion. There are under-currents in the ocean which act independently of the movements of the waters on the surface; far down too in its hidden depths there is a region where, even tho the storm be raging on the upper waves, perpetual calmness and stillness reign. So there may be an under-current beneath the surface-movements of your life--there may dwell in the secret depths of your being the abiding peace of God, the repose of a holy mind, even tho, all the while, the restless stir and commotion of worldly business may mark your outer history. And, in order to see this, it is to be remembered, that many of the thoughts and motives that most powerfully impel and govern us in the common actions of life, are latent thoughts and motives. Have you not often experienced that curious law--a law, perhaps, contrived by God with an express view to this its highest application--by which a secret thought or feeling may lie brooding in your mind, quite apart from the particular work in which you happen to be employed? Have you never, for instance, while reading aloud, carried along with you in your reading the secret impression of the presence of the listener--an impression that kept pace with all the mind's activity in the special work of reading; nay, have you not sometimes felt the mind, while prosecuting without interruption the work of reading, yet at the same time carrying on some other train of reflection apart altogether from that suggested by the book? Here is obviously a particular "business" in which you were "diligent," yet another and different thought to which the "spirit" turned. Or, think of the work in which I am this moment occupied. Amidst all the mental exertions of the public speaker--underneath the outward workings of his mind, so to speak, there is the latent thought of the presence of auditory. Perhaps no species of exertion requires greater concentration of thought or undividedness of attention than this: and yet, amidst all the subtle processes of intellect,--the excogitation or recollection of ideas,--the selection, right ordering and enunciation of words, there never quits his mind for one moment the idea of the presence of the listening throng. Like a secret atmosphere, it surrounds and bathes his spirit as he goes on with the external work. And have not you too, my friends, an Auditor--it may be a "great cloud of witnesses,"--but at least one all-glorious Witness and Listener ever present, ever watchful, as the discourse of life proceeds? Why then, in this case too, while the outward business is diligently prosecuted, may there not be on your spirit a latent and constant impression of that awful inspection? What worldly work so absorbing as to leave no room in a believer's spirit for the hallowing thought of that glorious Presence ever near? Do not say that you do not see God--that the presence of the divine Auditor is not forced upon your senses as that of the human auditory on the speaker. For the same process goes on in the secret meditations as in the public addresses of the preacher--the same latent reference to those who shall listen to his words dwells in his mind when in his solitary retirement he thinks and writes, as when he speaks in their immediate presence. And surely if the thought of an earthly auditory--of human minds and hearts that shall respond to his thoughts and words can intertwine itself with all the activities of a man's mind, and flash back inspiration on his soul, at least as potent and as penetrating may the thought be, or Him, the great Lord of heaven and earth, who not only sees and knows us now, but before whose awful presence, in the last great congregation, we shall stand forth to recount and answer for our every thought and deed. Or, to take but one other example, have we not all felt that the thought of anticipated happiness may blend itself with the work of our business hours? The laborer's evening release from toil, the schoolboy's coming holiday, or the hard-wrought business-man's approaching season of relaxation--the expected return of a long-absent and much-loved friend--is not the thought of these, or similar joyous events, one which often intermingles with, without interrupting, our common work? When a father goes forth to his "labor till the evening," perhaps often, very often, in the thick of his toils, the thought of home may start up to cheer him. The smile that is to welcome him, as he crosses his lowly threshold when the work of the day is over, the glad faces, and merry voices, and sweet caresses of little ones, as they shall gather round him in the quiet evening hours--the thought of all this may dwell, a latent joy, a hidden motive, deep down in his heart of hearts, may come rushing in a sweet solace at every pause of exertion, and act like a secret oil to smooth the wheels of labor. And so, in the other cases I have named, even when our outward activities are the most strenuous, even when every energy of mind and body is full strung for work, the anticipation of coming happiness may never be absent from our minds. The heart has a secret treasury, where our hopes and joys are often garnered--too precious to be parted with even for a moment. And why may not the highest of all hopes and joys possess the same all-pervading influence? Have we, if our religion be real, no anticipation of happiness in the glorious future? Is there no "rest that remaineth for the people of God," no home and loving heart awaiting us when the toils of our hurried day of life are ended? What is earthly rest or relaxation, what that release from toil after which we so often sigh, but the faint shadow of the saint's everlasting rest--the repose of eternal purity--the calm of a spirit in which, not the tension of labor only, but the strain of the moral strife with sin, has ceased--the rest of the soul in God! What visions of earthly bliss can ever--if our Christian faith be not a form--compare with "the glory soon to be revealed"--what joy of earthly reunion with the rapture of the hour when the heavens shall yield our absent Lord to our embrace, to be parted from us no more for ever! And if all this be not a dream and a fancy, but most sober truth, what is there to except this joyful hope from that law to which, in all other deep joys, our minds are subject? Why may we not, in this case too, think often, amidst our worldly work, of the Home to which we are going, of the true and loving heart that beats for us, and of the sweet and joyous welcome that awaits us there? And even when we make them not, of set purpose, the subject of our thoughts, is there not enough of grandeur in the objects of a believer's hope to pervade his spirit at all times with a calm and reverential joy? Do not think all this strange, fanatical, impossible. If it do seem so, it can only be because your heart is in the earthly hopes, but not in the higher and holier hopes--because love to Christ is still to you but a name--because you can give more ardor of thought to the anticipation of a coming holiday than to the hope of heaven and glory everlasting. No, my friends! the strange thing is, not that amidst the world's work we should be able to think of our Home, but that we should ever be able to forget it; and the stranger, sadder still, that while the little day of life is passing,--morning--noontide--evening,--each stage more rapid than the last, while to many the shadows are already fast lengthening, and the declining sun warns them that "the night is at hand, wherein no man can work," there should be those amongst us whose whole thoughts are absorbed in the business of the world, and to whom the reflection never occurs that soon they must go out into eternity--without a friend--without a home! Such, then, is the true idea of the Christian life--a life not of periodic observances, or of occasional fervors, or even of splendid acts of heroism and self-devotion, but of quiet, constant, unobtrusive earnestness, amidst the commonplace work of the world. This is the life to which Christ calls us. Is it yours? Have you entered upon it, or are you now willing to enter upon it? It is not, I admit, an imposing or an easy one. There is nothing in it to dazzle, much in its hardness and plainness to deter the irresolute. The life of a follower of Christ demands not, indeed, in our day, the courage of the hero or the martyr, the fortitude that braves outward dangers and sufferings, and flinches not from persecution and death. But with the age of persecution the difficulties of the Christian life have not passed away. In maintaining, in the unambitious routine of humble duties, a spirit of Christian cheerfulness and contentment--in preserving the fervor of piety amidst unexciting cares and wearing anxieties--in the perpetual reference to lofty ends amidst lowly toils--there may be evinced a faith as strong as that of a man who dies with the song of martyrdom on his lips. It is a great thing to love Christ so dearly as to be "ready to be bound and to die" for Him; but it is often a thing not less great to be ready to take up our daily cross, and to live for Him. But be the difficulties of a Christian life in the world what they may, they need not discourage us. Whatever the work to which our Master calls us, He offers us a strength commensurate with our needs. No man who wishes to serve Christ will ever fail for lack of heavenly aid. And it will be no valid excuse for an ungodly life that it is difficult to keep alive the flame of piety in the world, if Christ be ready to supply the fuel. To all, then, who really wish to lead such a life, let me suggest that the first thing to be done--that without which all other efforts are worse than vain--is heartily to devote themselves to God through Christ Jesus. Much as has been said of the infusion of religious principle and motive into our worldly work, there is a preliminary advice of greater importance still--that we be religious. Life comes before growth. The soldier must enlist before he can serve. In vain are directions how to keep the fire ever burning on the altar, if first it be not kindled. No religion can be genuine, no goodness can be constant or lasting, that springs not, as its primary source, from faith in Jesus Christ. To know Christ as my Savior--to come with all my guilt and weakness to Him in whom trembling penitence never fails to find a friend--to cast myself at His feet in whom all that is sublime in divine holiness is softened, though not obscured, by all that is beautiful in human tenderness--and, believing in that love stronger than death which, for me, and such as me, drained the cup of untold sorrows, and bore without murmur the bitter curse of sin, to trust my soul for time and eternity into His hands--this is the beginning of true religion. And it is the reverential love with which the believer must ever look to Him to whom he owes so much, that constitutes the mainspring of the religion of daily life. Selfishness may prompt to a formal religion, natural susceptibility may give rise to a fitful one, but for a life of constant fervent piety, amidst the world's cares and toils, no motive is sufficient save one--self-devoted love to Christ. But again, if you would lead a Christian life in the world, let me remind you that that life must be continued as well as begun with Christ. You must learn to look to Him not merely as your Savior from guilt, but as the Friend of your secret life, the chosen Companion of your solitary hours, the Depositary of all the deeper thoughts and feelings of your soul. You can not live for Him in the world unless you live much with Him, apart from the world. In spiritual as in secular things, the deepest and strongest characters need much solitude to form them. Even earthly greatness, much more moral and spiritual greatness, is never attained but as the result of much that is concealed from the world--of many a lonely and meditative hour. Thoughtfulness, self-knowledge, self-control, a chastened wisdom and piety, are the fruit of habitual meditation and prayer. In these exercises heaven is brought near, and our exaggerated estimate of earthly things corrected. By these our spiritual energies, shattered and worn by the friction of worldly work, are repaired. In the recurring seasons of devotion the cares and anxieties of worldly business cease to vex us; exhausted with its toils, we have, in daily communion with God, "meat to eat which the world knoweth not of;" and even when its calamities and losses fall upon us, and our portion of worldly good may be withdrawn, we may be able to show, like those holy ones of old at the heathen court, by the fair serene countenance of the spirit, that we have something better than the world's pulse to feed upon. But, further, in availing yourself of this divine resource amidst the daily exigencies of life, why should you wait always for the periodic season and the formal attitude of prayer? The heavens are not open to the believer's call only at intervals. The grace of God's Holy Spirit falls not like the fertilizing shower, only now and then; or like the dew on the earth's face, only at morning and night. At all times on the uplifted face of the believer's spirit the gracious element is ready to descend. Pray always; pray without ceasing. When difficulties arise, delay not to seek and obtain at once the succor you need. Swifter than by the subtle electric agent is thought borne from earth to heaven. The Great Spirit on high is in constant sympathy with the believing spirit beneath, and in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the thrill of aspiration flashes from the heart of man to God. Whenever anything vexes you--whenever, from the rude and selfish ways of men, any trials of temper cross your path--when your spirits are ruffled, or your Christian forbearance put to the test, be this your instant resource! Haste away, if only for a moment, to the serene and peace-breathing presence of Jesus, and you will not fail to return with a spirit soothed and calmed. Or when the impure and low-minded surround you--when, in the path of duty, the high tone of your Christian purity is apt to suffer from baser contacts, oh, what a relief to lift the heart to Christ!--to rise on the wings of faith--even for one instant to breathe the air of that region where the Infinite Purity dwells, and then return with a mind steeled against temptation, ready to recoil, with the instinctive abhorrence of a spirit that has been beside the throne, from all that is impure and vile. Say not, then, with such aid at your command, that religion can not be brought down to common life! In conclusion, let me once more urge upon you the great lesson on which we have been insisting. Carry religious principle into everyday life. Principle elevates whatever it touches. Facts lose all their littleness to the mind which brings principle and law to bear upon them. The chemist's or geologist's soiled hands are no sign of base work; the coarsest operations of the laboratory, the breaking of stones with a hammer, cease to be mechanical when intellectual thought and principle govern the mind and guide the hands. And religious principle is the noblest of all. Bring it to bear on common actions and coarse cares, and infinitely nobler even than the philosophic or scientific, becomes the Christian life. Live for Christ in common things, and all your work will become priestly work. As in the temple of old, it was holy work to hew wood or mix oil, because it was done for the altar-sacrifice or the sacred lamps; so all your coarse and common work will receive a consecration when done for God's glory, by one who is a true priest to His temple. Carry religion into common life, and your life will be rendered useful as well as noble. There are many men who listen incredulously to the high-toned exhortations of the pulpit; the religious life there depicted is much too seraphic, they think, for this plain and prosaic world of ours. Show these men that the picture is not a fancy one. Make it a reality. Bring religion down from the clouds. Apply to it the infallible test of experiment; and, by suffusing your daily actions with holy principles, prove that love to God, superiority to worldly pleasure, spirituality, holiness, heavenly-mindedness, are something more than the stock ideas of sermons. Carry religious principle into common life, and common life will lose its transitoriness. "The world passeth away!" "The things that are seen are temporal." Soon business with all its cares and anxieties--the whole "unprofitable stir and fever of the world"--will be to us a thing of the past. But religion does something better than sigh and muse over the perishableness of earthly things; it finds in them the seed of immortality. No work done for Christ perishes. No action that helps to mold the deathless mind of a saint of God is ever lost. Live for Christ in the world, and you carry with you into eternity all of the results of the world's business that are worth the keeping. The river of life sweeps on, but the gold grains it held in solution are left behind deposited in the holy heart. "The world passeth away, and the lust thereof; but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever." Every other result of our "diligence in business" will soon be gone. You cannot invent any mode of exchange between the visible and invisible worlds, so that the balance at your credit in the one can be transferred, when you migrate from it, to your account in the other. Worldly sharpness, acuteness, versatility, are not the qualities in request in the world to come. The capacious intellect, stored with knowledge, and disciplined into admirable perspicacity, tact, worldly wisdom, by a lifetime devoted to politics or business, is not, by such attainments, fitted to take a higher place among the sons of immortality. The honor, fame, respect, obsequious homage that attend worldly greatness up to the grave's brink, will not follow it one step beyond. These advantages are not to be despised; but if these be all that, by the toil of our hand, or the sweat of our brow, we have gained, the hour is fast coming when we shall discover that we have labored in vain and spent our strength for naught. But while these pass, there are other things that remain. The world's gains and losses may soon cease to affect us, but not the gratitude or the patience, the kindness or the resignation, they drew forth from our hearts. The world's scenes of business may fade on our sight, the noise of its restless pursuits may fall no more upon our ear, when we pass to meet our God; but not one unselfish thought, not one kind and gentle word, not one act of self-sacrificing love done for Jesus' sake, in the midst of our common work, but will have left an indelible impress on the soul which will go out with it to its eternal destiny. So live, then, that this may be the result of your labors. So live that your work, whether in the Church or in the world, may become a discipline for that glorious state of being in which the Church and the world shall become one,--where work shall be worship, and labor shall be rest,--where the worker shall never quit the temple, nor the worshiper the place of work, because "there is no temple therein, but the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple thereof." STORRS THE PERMANENT MOTIVE IN MISSIONARY WORK BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE RICHARD S. STORRS was born at Braintree, Mass., in 1821. In his book "Preaching Without Notes," he tells of his early practise and experience in pulpit delivery. After fifteen years patient effort he became one of the most accomplished extemporaneous speakers in America. He wrote much at first, developing a fine rhetorical style and a rich vocabulary that subsequently served him well as an impromptu speaker. His advice to divinity students was: "Always be careful to keep up the habit of writing, with whatever of skill, elegance, and force, you can command." Because of this early training in writing he was able later in life to adopt the method of thoroughly preparing his thought for his sermons, and of leaving the choice of words and the framing of sentences to the moment of delivery. His greatest success was achieved after he became a purely extemporaneous preacher. He was for fifty-four years pastor of the Church of the Pilgrims, Brooklyn. During this time he produced a number of books, of which the most important is "The Divine Origin of Christianity, Indicated by its Historical Effects." He died in 1900. STORRS 1821-1900 THE PERMANENT MOTIVE IN MISSIONARY WORK _Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature._--Mark xvi., 15. The Permanent Motive in Missionary Work: it is a catholic and comprehensive, even a cosmopolitan theme. It does not concern itself simply with the interest of foreign missions, technically so called. But, if you think of it, it concerns those in every Christian communion who are trying to further the cause and kingdom of our Lord on the earth. It concerns not the missionary fields alone, as they are popularly called, in other lands, but every field in which Christian service is sought to be rendered, from the obscurest slum in this town of Boston to the ragged edges of the circumference, the outmost circumference, of the world of mankind. We are familiar, of course, with the temporary, local, changing motives to missionary enterprise, which meet us at times, impress us forcibly for the moment, and pass away; the influence of great and signal occasions, when sympathies are almost tumultuously excited; the impulse which comes with a sweeping eloquence, which lifts us from the common levels of earth, and bears us as on wings toward issues and actions which we had not anticipated; perhaps the impulse which comes with personal interest in missionaries whom we have known, or mission fields which we have traversed. Great successes on certain fields move our enthusiasm; or tragic and terrible experiences in others, as recently among the Armenians, stir the deep fountains of our feeling. No one of these impulses is to be disregarded. Each one in its place has a power of its own, and all are to be valued and welcomed for their effect. But what we are to look for is the motive more deep, permanent, governing, which will be beneath and behind all these; as the tide-motive is beneath and behind the advancing and retreating waves which rise and flash, and break upon the beach; and this will be a motive not simple and single, but no doubt combined of several, distinguishable from each other, as a powerful current is made up of different uniting affluents. We must separate them in thought, that we may afterward combine them. I think first, then, we shall all recognize this as essential to the missionary motive: a clear and profound recognition of the evilness and misery of the actual condition of mankind, certainly as compared with the powers which are instinctive in every human soul. It makes no difference really, or very little, at this point, whether we accept the Scriptural declaration that man has fallen from a higher estate to his present level, or conceive, with some modern theorizers, that man is just now partially emerging from the conditions of his brute ancestry, stumbling up, through sin and error and manifold tremendous mistakes, toward wisdom and virtue, and the blessedness which they bring. In either case, the present condition of mankind is one of imperfection, weakness, unsatisfied desire, unrealized promise, and manifold peril. It is not the missionary who tells us this, principally or alone. Every observant foreign traveler repeats the same. Everyone who has resided abroad, and then he comes back to testify with an unprejudiced mind to that which he has observed, relates the same. The supreme difficulty here is in the want of the recognition of God, and of the great immortality. It used to be a reproach against Christian scholars, made by skeptics, that they investigated the ethnic religions in the spirit of suspicious hostility, by which their processes were diverted from true lines, by which their conclusions were colored. I am not concerned to argue the case of the Christian scholars of fifty years ago, or more, but I can certainly affirm that the Christian scholars of our own time investigate these religions carefully, patiently, sympathetically, with an eager desire to find everything in them that is of beautiful worth; and they do find many things of truth and beauty, many things which excite their admiration, as illustrating the attainment of the higher aspiration of the human mind, reaching after the unseen if haply it might find it. But they find nowhere the discovery of one personal God, eternal in authority, immaculate in character, creating man in His own image, and opening before him the ageless immensities beyond the grave; and in the absence of such recognition of God, and such recognition of the immortality, man is left to grope where he can not fly, to clutch the earth where he misses heaven. So it is that industrially, politically, commercially, socially, intellectually, he is on the lower level, until some exterior power reaches and ennobles him. So it is that crime, such as is unknown in Christian communities, is familiar and tolerated in the world. In fact, we need not fix our thought, prominently, on the more devilish crimes which still exist in parts and portions of the earth,--cannibalism, infanticide, human sacrifices, self-torture, the slavery that would destroy body and soul together in its own hell. Commoner vices have told us the story sufficiently,--drunkenness, licentiousness, the gambling passion, the opium habit, the fierce self-will that rushes to its end, regardless of anything sacred, in order to attain its pleasure. All these we know. How familiar they are to the mind, and in the life, of the world at large! And there seems no power arising within the circle not reached by Christian influence to relieve the gloom, to elevate those who are opprest by these sore burdens. There _is_ no power. Property asserts its right to oppress, and to enjoy; poverty accepts its function, however unwillingly, of suffering in silence; the degradation of woman strikes a vicious stab at the heart and conscience of immense communities, while the oppression of childhood blights life at its germ; and, with the prospect of nothing better to come, suicide becomes a common refuge from the unbearable misery. There is nothing overstated in this description of the world at large; and you know how it is in your city slums, even in this city of refinement and culture, I have no doubt; certainly in the city in which I live; in the London and Birmingham of the other side, where the little girl twelve years old had never heard the name of Christ, where the boy of about the same age only knew the nature of an oath by having been his lordship's caddy. These are what we are to reach and lift, if we can do it. These are they to whom we are to bring blessings from the Most High. Certainly, every heart in which there is a spark of Christian sympathy must feel the power of this motive, pressing to the utmost and instant exertion of every force to relieve the suffering, to enlighten the darkened, and to lift the opprest. No one need exaggerate, everyone should recognize, the weakness and wretchedness, the exposure and the peril of human society. When we remember that in this universe of ours destiny clings closely to character, has never anything mechanical or arbitrary about it, but follows the spirit which encounters it, then those tremendous words of our Lord in the twenty-fifth of Matthew have upon them an appalling sharpness and reach, as addrest to the great classes and companies of mankind; and we must recognize it, and hear the solemn bell of the universe ringing through His word, and telling us of what is to be looked for in the hereafter. But then with this recognition of the exposure and peril of human society, of mankind at large, we must associate the recognition of the recoverableness to truth, to virtue and God, of persons and of peoples who are now involved in these calamities and pains; to whom, now, unrest and apprehension are as natural as speech or sight; the recoverableness of men as persons, and of communities as well as persons. Here, of course, we come into direct antagonism with the pessimist, who says, "It is all nonsense! You can't possibly do the work; you can't take these ragged and soiled remnants of humanity in your city streets and weave them into purple and golden garments for the Master; you can not accomplish the effect which you contemplate, in the cities, in your own land, along the frontier, or in other lands. It is as impossible to make the unchaste pure, to make the mean noble, as it is to make crystal lenses out of mud, or the delicate elastic watch-spring out of the iron slag!" That is the world's view, a common and a hateful view. Our answer to it is that the thing can be done, and has been done, and done in such multitudes of instances that there is no use whatever in arguing against the fact. Christ came from the heavens to the earth on an errand. He knew what was in man; and He did not come from the celestial seats on an errand known beforehand to be fruitless and futile. He came because He knew the interior, central, divine element in human nature, to which He could appeal and by which He could lift men toward things transcendent. We have seen the examples of success, how many times! Hundreds, yea even thousands of times, in our own communities, as missionaries have seen them in the lands abroad: where the woman intemperate, in harlotry, in despair, has been lifted to restored womanhood, as the pearl oyster is brought up with its precious contents from the slimy ooze; where the man whose lips had been charged with foulest blasphemies has become the preacher of the gospel of light and love, of hope and peace, to others, his former comrades; where the feet that were swift to do evil have become beautiful on the mountains in publishing salvation. We have seen these things in individuals and in communities; in the roughest frontier mining-camp, where every door opened on a saloon or a brothel, or a gambling-table, and where, by the power coming from on high, it has been transformed into the peaceful Christian village, with the home, with the school, with the church, with the asylum, with the holy song, where the former customary music had been the crack of revolvers. We have seen the same thing on a larger scale in the coral islands, scenes of savage massacre and of cannibal riot and ferocity, where the Church has been planted, and Christian fellowships have been established and maintained. We have seen these things, and why argue against facts? Arguing against fact, as men ultimately find out, is like trying to stop with articulate breath the march of the stately battleship as she sweeps onward to her anchorage. An argument may meet a contrary argument; no argument can overwhelm a fact. And these facts in experience are as sure, as difficult of belief perhaps, but as compulsive of belief, as are the scientific demonstrations of the liquid air, of the wireless telegraphy. We do not question the reality of what we see; and we know that these effects have been produced, on the smaller scale and on the larger. I suppose that everyone who has ever stood on the heights above Naples, at the Church of San Martino, on the way to St. Elmo, has noticed, as I remember to have noticed, that all the sounds coming up from that gay, populous, brilliant, fascinating city, as they reached the upper air, met and mingled on the minor key. There were the voices of traffic and the voices of command, the voices of affection and the voices of rebuke, the shouts of sailors, and the cries of itinerant venders in the street, with the chatter and the laugh of childhood; but they all came up into this incessant moan in the air. That is the voice of the world in the upper air, where there are spirits to hear it. That is the cry of the world for help. And here is the answer to that cry: a song of triumph and glorious expectation, taking the place of the moan, in the village, in the city, in the great community; men and women out of whom multitudes of devils have been cast, as out of him of old, sitting clothed, and in their right minds, at the feet of Jesus. You can not tell me that it is impossible to produce these effects, for mine own eyes have seen them, mine own hands have touched them. I know their reality, and that every human soul which has not committed the final sin and passed the judgment is recoverable to God, if the right remedy be definitely applied; and that every people, however weak, however sinful, however wanting in hope and expectation, has within it the possibility, and above it the promise, of the millennium. God's power is adequate to all that. We want to associate this idea of the recoverableness of persons and of peoples to the highest ideal and to God Himself; we want to combine this with the idea of man's present misery and hopelessness in his condition, to constitute the true and powerful missionary motive; and then we want to recognize the fact that the gospel of Christ is the one force which, being used, secures this result in the most unpromising conditions. Here, again, we encounter the opposition of multitudes. How often men have laughed, how loudly they have laughed, at the idea that the story of the crucified Nazarene could inspire a despondent soul to hope, could purify the vicious soul into virtue, could bring any soul nearer to God! Perhaps somewhere they are laughing at it now; possibly even in this city of Boston, the home of culture and refinement, of fine and wide thought--I don't know, I don't live here; but I know that in the country at large there are always those who are disposed to say, "It is perfectly puerile to try to reach human sorrow and human sin with the power of the gospel, lodged in the little book which the child may carry in her hand!" As if the inconspicuous forces in the world's development were not always those deadliest on the one hand, or most benign on the other; as if wafts of air did not kill multitudes more than all the batteries of artillery; as if the unseen forces, hardly manifesting themselves at all, were not those which society seizes by which to advance itself most rapidly and grandly--that little spark, vanishing instantaneously, but revealing the unseen force which drives machineries, draws carriages, illuminates cities, and enables you and me to talk as if face to face with friends and correspondents at the distance of a thousand miles; that fleecy vapor, vanishing silently into the air but representing the gigantic servant of modern civilization, which tunnels mountains, scoops out mines, and links the continents together with iron bands. These unseen powers are the ones that man craves and uses, or that, on the other hand, he dreads and repels; and the power of the gospel, however men may smile at the idea of that power, has vindicated itself too many times to be assailed by argument, certainly too many times to be encountered with ridicule. The gospel is able to reconstitute society by reconstructing the character of individuals. Through its effect on persons it opens the way for vast national advances. It touches not merely the higher themes, but all the themes that are associated with those, and immediately pertinent to the interest of mankind. It teaches frugality and industry, and honesty, by express command, and by the divine example of Him who brought it to us. It turns men, as has been forcibly said, "out of the trails of blood and plunder into the path of honest toil." It is a gospel for every creature, that is, for every created thing; and gardens bloom in a lovelier beauty under its influence, and harvest festivals, of which the country is full to-day, are only its natural and beautiful fruit and trophy. It exalts womanhood; and by the honor it puts on womanhood, and by the honor it puts on childhood, it inaugurates the new family life in the world. It honors, as no other religion does or ever did, the essential worth of the immortal spirit in man; and it forces him, pushes him, crowds him, into thoughtfulness and educational discipline, since it will not allow him to be manipulated into paradise by any priestly hand, but comes to him in a Book, and sets him to work to investigate its contents, to inquire concerning it, to look out widely around it, and to inform himself by careful thought of what it is and what it means. There is the basis of colleges and theological seminaries, and I hope there will be no quarrel between them! There is the basis of all the educational institutions and influences that are worthy in the world. Christianity brings them. It generates by degrees a new social conscience. It unites communities, on which it has operated, in new relationships to each other. International alliances become possible, become vital. International law becomes a reality and a power; beneficence is stimulated, and law becomes ethical. As we have seen recently, in the prodigious excitement of feeling throughout civilized countries in consequence of the apparent gross injustice done to a single French officer by a military court, the time is coming, tho it has not yet fully come, when mankind shall be one in spirit, and an "... instinct bear along, Round the earth's electric circle, One swift flash of right or wrong." It is not commerce which does this, it is Christianity. We are witnesses to it. Our ancestors, not many centuries ago, were mere rapacious savages, robbers in the forests, pirates on the sea; it was Christianity, brought to them, that lifted them into gladness, serenity, great purpose, great expectation and hope; and the new civilization in which we rejoice on either side, I will not say of the separating, of the uniting ocean, was founded on that New Testament, the folios of which, I believe, are still preserved in Corpus Christi College in Cambridge, and in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. Here is the basis of what has been the grandest, most illustrious, and most prophetic, in the recent history of mankind. Give the gospel freedom and it will everywhere show this power. Among the children and youth to whom it goes, among the mature and the strong, wheresoever it goes, it grapples conscience, it stimulates the heart. That one sentence, "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin," is the profoundest truth, is the most persuasive and commanding appeal, ever addrest by an inspired apostle to the children of mankind; and wherever that is heard, sin is lost in penitence, and hope is lost in triumphant vision, and the glory of the world disappears before the glory immutable of the Son of God! Then we are to remember, certainly never is this to be forgotten, that the great imperishable motive, surpassing and dominating every other in missionary effort, is adoring love toward Christ, as central in the Scripture, glorified in history. No student of history, no observer of human experience, can fail to see that there is the sovereign passion possible to human nature; beside which the passion of love for a friend, for a country, for a business, for studies, may be auxiliary, but must be subordinate. There is the passion which has done the grandest things the world has ever known. There is the passion the vision of which interprets to us the strangest, sublimest pages of history. We have all felt it, I am sure, if we are Christian, in our measure, and at times; at the sacrament, perhaps; in those sabbaths of the soul of which Coleridge speaks, when the mind eddies instead of flowing onward; when we have been moved to a great effort for Him whom we love; most keenly, perhaps, when we have been in keenest sorrow, when the earth was as iron under our feet and the heavens as brass above our head, and we were all alone, yet not alone, for there stood beside us One in the form of the Son of Man, making luminous the dark! We have felt this love toward Christ; and when we have felt it we have known that no power could surpass or approach it in the intensity of its moving force, to every enterprise, great, difficult howsoever it might be by which He would be honored. Love has been the sovereign power in all the Church. Judgment may be generous; love is lavish. Judgment may be stedfast in its conclusions; love is heroic in its affirmations. It was love that garnished the house, and poured out the spikenard, and spiced the sepulcher. It was love that faced the flames, as in Felicitas and Perpetua, fronting the dungeon and not shrinking, fronting the sword and not blanching. It was love that said, "The nearer the sword, the nearer to God." You can not conquer that power, indestructible, full of a divine energy. And with the experience of this comes the vivid vision of the divine Providence, working for the gospel in human history. How wonderful it is! Look at the progress of the last ninety years, since missionary work began in this country! The changes, except as they are matters of public record and of universal personal observation, would be simply unthinkable--the vast new machineries of travel and of commerce; the incalculable additions to the wealth of civilized lands; the ever-increasing prosperity and power of Protestant nations, in which the gospel is honored; the equally ever-reduced power and lessening fame of nations, ancient and famous, in which the gospel is refused free movement with a home among the people; the continually closer approaches of civilized and Protestant nations to each other, as of Great Britain and this country. Many years ago Lord Brougham said, you remember, "Not an ax falls in the American forest but it sets in motion a shuttle in Manchester." That has been true ever since, and is more true to-day than ever before. Not a mine is opened, not an industry established, not a mechanism invented in the one country, which is not recognized, and the power of which is not felt, in the other; and more and more their policies are weaving together, not necessarily in form, but in fundamental, underlying sympathy. All these things are going forward with the opening of regions and realms formerly inaccessible to Christianity; so that now the Christianity which seemed buried in the catacombs, which seemed burned up in the martyr fires, has the freedom of the world, and may everywhere be preached in its purity and its power. Here are the plans of God going forward; and we ought to feel in ourselves that in every hardest work we do we are only keeping step with the march of omnipotence. I know that there are many who fear that the prosperity of our times, the love of pleasure, the desire for ease and enjoyment, are to interfere with and stay these plans of the divine Providence for the furtherance of Christ's Church, and of His cause in the world. I do not wonder at the fear, though I do not share it. Unquestionably the secular spirit is more intense and widely distributed at this time than it ever was before, and the opportunities for its gratification, in the acquirement of wealth and in the enjoyment of every luxury, are greater than ever before. Undoubtedly it is true that Sunday observance is far less strict, and family discipline and training far less careful, than they were, perhaps, in the days of our own childhood. Sunday newspapers make almost all American ministers wish they were Englishmen; and Sunday observance among ourselves reminds one too often of that colloquy between Joshua and Moses as they were coming down from the mount during the idol-feast, when the younger said, "There is a noise of war in the camp." "No," said the elder and more discerning, "it is not the voice of them that shout for the mastery, neither is it the voice of them that cry for being overcome, but it is the voice of them that sing, that I hear." Sometimes in our congregations I think it is not the shout for the mastery of the truth, pushing it upon men, it is not the voice of them that cry, in penitence and humble obedience, because they are overcome, but it is the voice of them that sing that we hear; and the singing is too often in operatic measures, and done by quartets, not by congregations! Talleyrand was right in saying years ago that Americans take their pleasures sadly. I think that we are right also, and more nearly right, when we say that Americans take their religion too lightly, too gaily, as if it were a varnish upon life instead of a fire and power within it. But the human soul is still beating, and full of life, in the heart of everyone whom we address; and God's gospel has its grip on that human soul whenever it reaches it through our ministry, lifts it nearer the things supernal, and nearer God Himself. While I see many things to make us solicitous, I see nothing to make us timid, concerning these mighty advancing plans of God. If persecution could not stay them, if prelacy could not finally thwart them, I do not believe that bicycles are going to override them, in the end, or that they are to find their grave in the fascinating golf links. No! there is One who sitteth above the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers; and His plans go forth, soundless, silent, except as they come into operation. But they never are broken; they never are drawn back; and the world has to learn more and more clearly, every century, that the banners of God are those which never go down in any struggle, and that whoever walks and works with God is sure of the triumph. Then do not let us forget that this is the sublime interval in history between the ascension of the Master and His second coming in power and glory, to judge the world! "In a grand and awful time" the hymn says--and I repeat it: "We are living, we are dwelling, In a grand and awful time," when the heavens have been luminous with the splendor of the ascension, and are destined to be luminous again with the awful glory of the coming for judgment; and now is our time for work--for work with the energy of the divine Spirit whose dispensation this is. That Spirit wrote His gospel by the inspiration of human minds, and by the instruments of human hands, on leaves of parchment and papyrus. He is writing His gospel now, at large, through His inspiration of human minds and guidance of human hands over the expanses of the continents. But it is the same gospel--the gospel of sin, the gospel of atonement, the gospel of regeneration, the gospel of future judgment, and of future glory for the believing. That is the gospel; and we are to go with Him in extending the knowledge of that and in writing it ourselves. Wheresoever we have the opportunity, that is our work; a work greater, more momentous, wider in its relations, than any other done upon the earth. Let us not forget then the meanness, the misery and evilness, of human society, where the gospel does not enter and pervade it. Let us not forget the recoverableness to God of every person and every people, if the divine energies are rightly used. Let us not forget that the gospel of Christ is the power at which men laugh and say, "You are trying to quarry mountains with sunbeams; you are trying to lift masses of masonry with aerial or, at best, with silken threads." It is the gospel of Christ which is to be the power to lift mankind, and glorify God, on all the continents, in all the earth. The passion of love for Christ, stimulated by everything that we read or hear, quickened by the Spirit in our hearts, is the power that is to loosen amassed wealth and make it fluent, that is to vitalize dead wealth and make it active, that is to enter into every languid heart and inspire it for service. And then the view of the divine Providence working in history toward one result, steadily steering toward one haven and port,--the earth renewed in righteousness and beautiful before God; and then this dispensation of the Spirit, in which we have our time! After the resurrection, a disciple said, "I go a-fishing." Likewise said they all. It seems strange that even after that miracle, which has shot its radiance everywhere upon the history of the world, any disciple should have yielded to such an impulse. But now shall we, after the ascension and when the skies are still glowing with it, after Pentecost has opened heavenly principalities and powers to our view and our experience, under the shadow of the great white throne that is to be set in heaven--shall we go to building and bargaining, to mining and merchandising, as our chief aim in life, and omit this sublimest service which angels, it seems to me, must bend above the battlements of heaven to see in its progress, and to make their hearts and harps jubilant in its vitality and success? Oh, my friends, let us remember, wheresoever we labor, that our errand is to make this complex, complete, energetic missionary motive more clear to every mind, more thoroughly vigorous and energetic in every heart. Everything else must be postponed! Do not let us spend our strength in picking the gospel to pieces, to see if we can't put it together again in a better fashion! Do not let us spend our strength in any denominational controversies or collisions. Let us give ourselves, with all our power, to making this immense missionary motive operative throughout all the churches, throughout and in all Christian hearts; till He shall come whose right it is to reign, and take unto Himself His great power, and rule, King of nations as well as King of saints. Let us recognize this as the one truly magnificent errand for man on the earth. Let us be filled with the Divine Spirit, that we may accomplish it the more perfectly. Let us never intermit the service. And if, as we grow older, we grow weary with cares and labors, and it may be with sorrows, and are disposed sometimes to think we may now rest, let us remember the word of Arnauld, the illustrious Port Royalist, whom even his passionate enemies, the Jesuits, admitted to be great, of whom it is recorded that when some one said to him, "You have labored long, now is your time to rest!" his reply was, "Rest? Why rest, here and now, when I have a whole eternity to rest in!" God in His grace open that tranquil and luminous eternity to each of us, where we may find rest in nobler praise and grander work, forevermore; and unto Him be all the praise! PUNSHON ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE WILLIAM MORLEY PUNSHON, English Methodist divine, was born at Doncaster, in Yorkshire, in 1824. His style was brilliant and elaborate, and while his sermons were written out in the minutest detail and carefully committed to memory, they were delivered with a freshness and vigor that rivaled the charm of extemporaneous eloquence. Every word he uttered was charged with the force and vitality of his great personality. At the Metropolitan Church, Toronto, Canada, he preached for many years, drawing thousands of people to Christ by the zeal, magnetism and power of his pulpit oratory. He died in 1881. PUNSHON 1824-1881 ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST _For whether we be beside ourselves, it is to God: or whether we be sober, it is for your cause. For the love of Christ constraineth us; because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead; and that he died for all, that they who live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him who died for them, and rose again._--2 Cor. v., 13-15. It is always an advantage for the advocate of any particular cause to know the tactics of his adversary. He will be the better prepared for the onset, and repel the attack the more easily. Forewarned of danger, he will intrench himself in a position from which it will be impossible to dislodge him. The apostle Paul possest this advantage in a very eminent degree. In the earlier years of his apostleship, the Jew and the Greek were the antagonists with whom he had to contend. Having been himself a member of the straitest sect of the Jews, he knew full well the antipathy with which they regarded anything which set itself by its simplicity in contrast with their magnificent ritual; and he knew also the haughty scorn with which they turned away from what they deemed the unworthy accessories of the Nazarene. And, well read as he was in classic literature, and acquainted with all the habits and tendencies of the Grecian mind, he could readily understand how the restraints of the gospel would be deemed impertinent by the voluptuous Corinthian, and how the philosophic Athenian would brand its teachers mad. And yet, rejoicing in the experimental acquaintance with the gospel, he says, for his standing-point of advantage: "We preach Christ crucified, to the Jews a stumbling-block and to the Greeks foolishness, but to them that are called, the power of God and the wisdom of God." And in the words of the text, addressing some of those very Corinthians upon whom the gospel had exerted its power, he seems to accept the stigma and vindicate the glorious madness: "For whether we be beside ourselves, it is to God: or whether we be sober it is for your cause. For the love of Christ constraineth us; because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead; and that he died for all, that they who live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him who died for them, and rose again." The great purpose of the apostle in these words is to impress upon us the fact that the cause of Christ in the world, sanctioned by the weight of so many obligations, fraught with the destinies of so many millions, should be furthered by every legitimate means; that for it, if necessary, should be employed the soberest wisdom; and for it, if necessary, the most impassioned zeal. He vindicates the use of zeal in the cause of Christ by the three following considerations: First, from the condition of the world; secondly, from the obligations of the Church; and, thirdly, from the master-motive of the Savior's constraining love. To illustrate and enforce this apostolic argument, as not inappropriate to the object which has called us together, will be our business for a few brief moments to-night. I. The apostle argues and enforces the use of zeal in the cause of Christ, in the first place, from the condition of the world. The apostle speaks of the world as in a state of spiritual death. He argues the universality of this spiritual death from the universality of the atonement of Christ. "For the love of Christ constraineth us, because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead"--dead in sin, with every vice luxuriant and every virtue languishing; dead in law, judicially in the grasp of the avenger; nay, "condemned already," and hastening to the second death. We need not remind you that this is by no means the world's estimate of its own condition. It is short-sighted, and, therefore, self-complacent. There is a veil over its eye; there is a delusion at its heart. In that delusion it fancies itself enthroned and stately, like some poor lunatic, an imaginary monarch under the inflictions of its keeper. The discovery of its true position comes only when the mind is enlightened from on high. "We thus judge," not because there is in us any intuitional sagacity, or any prophetical foresight, by which our judgment is made more accurate than the judgment of others; but the Holy Spirit has come down, has wrought upon us--has shown us the plague of our own hearts--and from the death within us we can the better argue the death which exists around. And that this is the actual condition of the world, Scripture and experience combine to testify. The Bible, with comprehensive impartiality, concludes all "under sin"; represents mankind as a seed of evil-doers--"children that are corrupters"--sheep that have wandered away from the Shepherd and Bishop of their souls. In the adjudication of Scripture there is no exemption from this common character of evil, and from this common exposure to danger. The men of merciful charities, and the woman of abandoned life--the proudest peer, and the vilest serf in his barony--the moralist observer of the decalogue, and the man-slayer, red with blood, all are comprehended in the broad and large denunciation: "Ye were by nature children of wrath, even as others." And out in the broad world, wherever the observant eye travels, you have abundant confirmation of the testimony of Scripture. You have it in your own history. The transgressions and sins which constitute this moral death abound in our age no less than in any former age of mankind. There are thousands around you who revel in undisguised corruption. There are thousands more externally reputable who have only a name to live. You have this confirmation in the nations of the Continent--some safely bound by the superstition of ages; others subsiding into a reactionary skepticism. You have this confirmation further away in the countries which own Mohammedan rule, and cherish the Mohammedan's dream--where you have unbridled lust, and a tiger's thirst for blood. You have this confirmation in the far-off regions of heathenism proper, where the nature, bad in itself, is made a thousand fold worse by its religion--where the man is the prey of every error, and the heart the slave of every cruelty--where men live in destruction, and where men die in despair. Travel where you will, visit the most distant regions, and search under the shadow of the highest civilization--penetrate into the depths of those primeval forests, into whose original darkness you might have imagined the curse would hardly penetrate, and the result is uniformly the same. Death is everywhere. You see it, indeed, in all its varieties now in the rare and fading beauty which it wears just after the spirit has fled from the clay, when its repose seems the worn-out casket, which the soul has broken, and thrown away; now, when there is shed over it a hue of the sublime, and it is carried amid the tears to burial, and now, when corruption has begun its work, and its ill odor affects the neighborhood, and spreads the pestilence--you see it in all its varieties, but uniformly death is there. We gather from our melancholy pilgrimage no vestige of spiritual life. Mourners go about the streets, and there are mourners over many tombs. Altho, as we have observed just now, a thorough and realizing estimate of the world's condition comes only when the judgment is enlightened from on high, the wise men of the world, the minds that have in all ages towered above their fellows, have felt an unsatisfactoriness for which they could hardly account; they have had a vague and morbid consciousness that all was not right somehow, either with themselves or with their race; they have met with disturbing forces, signs of irregularity, tokens of misery and of sin that have ruffled, somewhat, the philosophic evenness of their minds. Each in his own way, and from his own standpoint, has guessed at the solution of the problem, and has been ready with a suggested remedy. The peoples are imbruted; educate them. The nations are barbarous; civilize them. Men grovel in sensual pleasure; cultivate the esthetic faculty; open to them galleries of pictures; bring them under the humanizing influences of art. Men groan in bondage; emancipate them, and bid them be free! Such are some of the tumultuous cries that have arisen from earnest but blind philanthropists, who have ignored the spiritual part of man's nature, and forgotten altogether the Godward relations of his soul. All these, as might have been expected, valuable enough as auxiliaries, worth something to promote the growth and comfort of a man when life has been once imparted, fail, absolutely fail to quicken the unconscious dead. In all cases the bed has been shorter than that a man could lie on it, and the covering narrower than that he could wrap himself in it. The inbred death lay too deep for such superficial alchemy; corpses can not by any possibility animate corpses; and the compassionate bystander from other worlds, sickened with the many inventions, might be constrained to cry, "Amid all this tumult of the human, O for something divine!" And the divine is given--Christ has died for all men. There is hope for the world's life. This is a death whereby we live; this is a remedy commensurate with existing need, and intended entirely to terminate and extinguish that need. That squalid savage, whose creed is a perpetual terror, and whose life is a perpetual war--Christ hath died for him. That fettered and despairing slave, into whose soul the iron has entered, valued by his base oppressor about on a par with the cattle he tends, or with the soil he digs--Christ hath died for him. That dark blasphemer, who lives in familiar crime, whose tongue is set on fire of hell, whose expatriation would be hailed by the neighborhood around him as a boon of chiefest value--Christ has died for him. That dark recluse, whom an awakened conscience harasses, and who, in the vain hope of achieving merit by suffering, wastes himself with vigilant penance well-nigh to the grave--Christ has died for him. Oh, tell these tidings to the world, and it will live. Prophesy of this name in the motionless valley, and the divine Spirit who always waits to do honor to Jesus will send the afflatus from the four winds of heaven, and they shall leap into life to His praise. Now take these two points. Think in the first place, of the condition of the world--a condition so disastrous, that nothing but death can illustrate it--a condition which prostrates every faculty, which smites the body with unnumbered cruelties, which dwarfs the mind with prejudices or distorts it into unholy passion, which banishes the soul and mind within a man in hopeless estrangement from happiness and God; and then think of the death of Christ, providing for the furthest need, overtaking the utmost exile, pouring its abundant life upon the sepulchered nations, diffusing light, liberty, hope, comfort, heaven: and I appeal to your enlightened judgment whether you are not bound, those of you who believe in Jesus, to labor for the world's conversion with intensest energy and zeal. Oh, if temporal miseries elicit sympathy, and prompt to help; if the anxieties of a neighborhood gather around a drowning child, or are fastened upon the rafters of a burning house, where, solitary and imploring, stands a single man, already charred by the flame, how much of sympathy, of effort, of liberality, of zeal, of prayer, are due to a world lying in the wicked one, and panting after the second death! You will agree with me, that there is more than license for the poet's words: "On such a theme, 'Tis impious to be calm!" And you will rejoice--will you not? to take your stand to-night by the apostle's side, and to cry, when men deem your zeal impertinence and your efforts fanaticism, "If we be beside ourselves, it is to God: and if we be sober, it is for your cause." II. The apostle argues the necessity for zeal in the cause of Christ, secondly, from the obligations of the Church, in that He died for all, that they should live--should not henceforth live unto themselves, but for Him who died for them and rose again. The apostle's argument is this--none of us has life in himself; if we live at all, we live by imparted life; we live because life has been drafted into our spirits from on high. Then it is not our own; it belongs to Him who has purchased it for us with His own blood, and we are bound to employ it in His service, and for His glory. This also is the conclusion of an enlightened judgment. We judge this as well as the other, and this is in accordance with the whole tenor of Scripture. Time would fail us to mention a tithe of the passages in which devotion--the devotion of the heart and of the service of God are made matter of constant and of prominent demand. I will just mention one passage that may serve as an illustration of all: "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye give your bodies as a living sacrifice." Have you ever gaged the depth of consecration that slumbers in the heart of those words--"a living sacrifice"; to be absolutely and increasingly devoted to God, as if the knife were at the throat, and the life-blood streamed forth in votive offering? Nay, better than that; because the life-blood could stream out but once, but the living sacrifice may be a perpetual holocaust, repeated daily for a lifetime--a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service. From the doctrine of this passage, and of numberless others kindred to it, it would appear that the regenerate heart is not at liberty to live for itself, nor to aim supremely at its own gratification; it must live for Him who has died for it, and who has risen again. You can not fail, I think, to perceive that compliance with this exhortation is utterly antagonistic to the ordinary procedure of mankind. In the age of organization against idolatry, there is one proud, rampant idolatry which retains its ascendency amongst us. Selfishness is the most patronized idolatry in the world. It is the great image whose brightness is exceeding terrible, and before which all men bow; it is a throne, and an empire, and the likeness of a kingly crown; it equips armies and mans armaments to gratify its lust of power. Fastnesses have been explored and caverns ransacked to appease its thirst for gold. It presides over the councils of kings and over the diplomacy of cabinets; for it the merchantman grindeth down his manhood, for it the treader-under-foot of nations marcheth in his might and in his shame; its votaries are of all handicrafts--of the learned professions, and of every walk in life. It hath sometimes climbed on to the judgment-seat, and perverted justice there. The cowled monk hath hidden it beneath his robe, and it hath become for him an engine of oppression, and it hath occasionally robed itself in holy vestments, and entered the priest's office for a morsel of bread. No grace or virtue of humanity is free from its contamination. It has breathed, and patriotism has degenerated into partisanship; it has breathed, and friendship has been simulated for policy; it has breathed, and charity has been blemished by ostentation; it has breathed, and religion has been counterfeited for gold; its sway is a despotism--its territory wherever man hath trodden, and it is the undisputed anarch of the world. Now it is against this principle in human nature, throned within us all, doggedly contesting every inch of ground, that Christianity goes forth to combat. The gospel absolutely refuses to allow self to be the governing power, and assaults it in all its strongholds with precepts of sublime morality. To the selfishness of avarice it goes up boldly, even while the miser clutches his gold, and says: "Give to him that asketh of thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away." To the selfishness of anger it addresses itself, even when the red spot is yet on the brow of the angry: "Let not the sun go down upon thy wrath"; "Bless them that curse you, pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you." To the selfishness of pride, even in its haughtiness and arrogance, it says: "In honor preferring one another, be clothed with humility, let each esteem another better than himself." To the selfishness of indifference to the concerns of others, "Look not on thine own things, but likewise upon the things of others"; and to the selfishness of souls and criminal neglect of the great salvation, it speaks in tones of pathos which that must be a callous heart that can withstand, "Ye know the graces of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, tho he was rich, yet for our sins he became poor, that we, through his poverty, might be made rich." Oh, how small, alongside of august and heavenly precepts like these, are the sublimest maxims of any merely ethical morality! It is said that, once, during the performance of a comedy in the Roman theater, one of the actors gave utterance to the sentiment, "I am a man; nothing, therefore, that is human can be foreign to me," and the audience were so struck by the disinterestedness, or so charmed by the novelty, that they greeted it with thunders of applause. How much greater wealth of kindly wisdom and prompting to unselfish action lies hidden in the gospel of Christ, shrined there as every-day utterances passed by the most of us very slightingly by! Oh! let there be anything like the genial practise of this divine morality, and the world would soon lose its aspect of desolation and of blood; oppression and over-reaching, and fraud and cruelty, would be frowned out of the societies of men, and this earth would be once more an ample and a peopled paradise. By selfishness, as we have thus endeavored to describe it, we mean that grasping, monopolizing spirit which gets all and gives nothing; heedful enough of its own fortunes, careless of the concerns and interests of others. This is the principle in our nature which Christianity opposes, and with which it ceaselessly wages war. But there is a sort of selfishness which, for the sake of distinction, we may call self-love, which is instinctive, and therefore innocent--that merciful provision by which we are prompted to the care of our own lives and to the avoidance of everything that would disquiet or abridge them. This principle in our nature Christianity encourages; to this principle Christianity addresses itself; and hence it has connected, married in indissoluble union, man's chiefest duty and man's highest pleasure. Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life that now is. What has the dark, morbid, unhappy sensualist to do with it? Godliness hath the promise of the life "that now is," as well as "that which is to come." In keeping Thy commandments there is a present reward. "Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls; for my yoke is easy and my burden is light." "In thy presence there is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore." Just as it is in man's physical organization, and its adaptation to the material world around him, when body and mind are alike in health, we can neither eat, nor drink, nor walk, nor sleep, nor sing, nor perform any of the commonest actions of life without a sensation of pleasure; so it is in the spiritual life: there is pleasure in its every motion. There is pleasure even in the sting of penitence; it is "A godly grief and pleasing smart, That melting of a broken heart." There is pleasure in the performance of duty; there is pleasure in the enjoyment of privilege; there is pleasure in the overcoming of temptations, a grand thrill of happiness to see trampled under foot a vanquished lust or slain desire; there is pleasure in the exercise of benevolence; there is pleasure in the importunity of prayer. Hence it is that the apostle seeks to rivet the sense of personal obligation by the remembrance of personal benefit. "We thus judge, that he died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him who"--owns them? No. Claims them? No. Will judge them? No; but--"to him who died for them and rose again." Gratitude is to be the best prompter to our devotion. Those who live to Christ, those who live by Christ, will not tamely see His altars forsaken, His Sabbaths desecrated, His name blasphemed, the blood of the covenant wherewith He was sanctified accounted an unholy thing. Brethren, are you of that happy family? Have you obtained life from the dead through His name? Then you are bound to spend it for His honor, and, watching with godly jealousy for every possible opportunity of doing good, to spend and be spent for them who have not yet your Master known. I call on you to answer this invocation; it belongs to you. There is no neutrality, believe me, in this war--and if there be some of you that would like to be dastardly and half-hearted trimmers, you will find by and by that you have got the hottest place in the battle, exposed to the cross-fire from the artillery of both parties. I call on you decisively to-night to answer this invocation. Call up before your minds the benefits you have individually received; think of the blessings which the death of Christ has procured for you--the removal of the blighting curse which shadowed all your life, the present sense of pardon, mastery over self and over sin, light in the day of your activity, and songs in the night of your travail; the teaching Spirit to lead you into still loftier knowledge, and the sanctifying Spirit to impress upon you the image of the heavenly; that divine fellowship which lightens the present, and that majestic hope which makes the future brighter far. Think of the benefits which the resurrection of Christ has conferred upon you; light in the shadowed valley, the last enemy destroyed, support amid the swellings of Jordan, a guide upon the hither side of the flood, angelic welcomes, the King in his beauty, and "a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." And then, as the sum of favor is presented, and gratitude arises and the fire burns, and the heart is full, and the frame quivers with the intensity of its emotions, just remember that there is a world lying in the wicked one, that there are multitudes, thousands upon thousands, in your own city, at your own doors, for whom the Savior died, who never heard His name; that there are multitudes for whom He has abolished death who have never felt His resurrection's power. Let your tears flow; better, far better a tear for God's sake and the world's sake than the hard-heartedness and darkness of sin. Lift up your voice in the midst of them; lift it up, be not afraid. Say unto the cities of Judah, "Behold your God." Men will call you mad, but you can give them the apostle's answer, "If we be beside ourselves, it is to God; if we be sober, it is for your cause." III. The apostle argues the necessity of zeal in the cause of Christ, in the third place, from the master motive of the Savior's constraining love. "The love of Christ constraineth us"--forces us along, carries us away as with the impetuosity of a torrent, or rather as when cool heavens and favoring air speed the vessel steadily to the haven. Love is at once man's most powerful motive and his highest inspiration, both in the life that now is and that which is to come. From love to Christ spring the most devoted obedience, the most untiring efforts in His service. There are other springs of action, I know, by which men are influenced to a profession of religion. Interest can occasionally affect godliness from sordid aims, and behave itself decorously amid the respectabilities of the temple-going and almsgiving religion; but it will give its arm to any man that goes down to the house of Rimmon; and if there is a decree that at the sound of all kinds of music they are to fall down before another image which has been erected in the plains of Dura, they will be the most obsequious benders of the knee. Men sometimes practise obedience under the influence of fear. A sudden visitation, a prevailing epidemic, an alarming appeal, will strike into momentary concern; but when the indignation is overpast, and the craven soul has recovered from its paroxysms of terror, there will often be a relapse into more than the former atrocities of evil. Convictions of duty may and sometimes will induce a man, like an honest Pharisee of the olden time, to observe rigidly the enactments of the law; but there will be no heart in his obedience, and no holy passion in his soul; but let the love of God be shed abroad in his heart by the Holy Ghost given unto him, let there be a perception of love in God, let there be sight of the Crucified as well as of the cross, and there will be disinterested, and cheerful, and hearty obedience. Zeal for God will become at once a passion and a principle, intensifying every purpose into ardor, and filling the whole soul with vehemence of absorbing desire. This is the emotion from whose natural and inevitable outflow the apostle vindicates impassioned zeal. Opinions are divided as to whether the constraining love spoken of in the text refers to Christ's love to us or to our love to Him, which the sense of His love has enkindled in the soul. I do not think we can go far wrong if we take both meanings, inasmuch as no principle of exposition is violated, and as we need the pressure of a combination of motive, that we may be zealously affected always in this good thing. Ye, then, if there are any of you here who need rousing to energy in the service of Christ, think of His love to you; how rich its manifestations, and how unfeigned; how all other love of which it is possible for you to conceive shrinks in the comparison! There have been developments in the histories of years of self-sacrificing affection, which has clung to the loved object amid hazard and suffering, and which has been ready even to offer up life in its behalf. Orestes and Pylades, Damon and Pythias, David and Jonathan, what lovely episodes their histories give us amid a history of selfishness and sin! Men have canonized them, partly because such instances are rare, and partly because they are like a dim hope of redemption looming from the ruins of the fall. We have it on inspired authority, indeed, "Greater love hath no man than this"--this is the highest point which man can compass, this is the culminating point of that affection which man can by possibility attain, the apex of his loftiest pyramid goes no higher than this--"greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend; but God commendeth his love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us." A brother has sometimes made notable efforts to retrieve a brother's fortunes, or to blanch his sullied honor; but there is a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother. A father has bared his breast to shield his offspring from danger, and a mother would gladly die for the offspring of her womb; but a father's affection may fail in its strength, and yet more rarely a mother's in its tenderness. And "can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee." O Jesus of Nazareth, who can declare Thee? "Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be a propitiation for our sins." Think of that love--love which desertion could not abate--love which ingratitude could not abate--which treachery could not abate--love which death could not destroy--love which, for creatures hateful and hating one another, stooped to incarnation, and suffered want, and embraced death, and shrank not even from the loathesomeness and from the humiliation of burial; and then, with brimming eye, and heart that is full of wonder: "Why such love to me?" you will indeed be ungrateful if you are not stirred by it to an energy of consecration and endeavor, which may well seem intemperate zeal to cool reckoners with worldly wisdom. Then take the other side of the argument; take it as referring to your love to Christ, which the sense of His love has enkindled in the soul. The deepest affection in the believing heart will always be the love of Jesus. The love of home, the love of friends, the love of letters, the love of rest, the love of travel, and all else, are contracted by the side of this master passion. "A little deeper," said one of the veterans of the first Napoleon's old guard, when they were probing in his bosom for a bullet that had mortally wounded him, and he thought they were getting somewhere in the region of the heart--"a little deeper and you will find the Emperor." Engraven on the Christian's heart deeper than all other love of home or friends, with an ineffaceable impression that nothing can erase, you find the loved name of Jesus. Oh! let this affection impel us, and who shall measure our diligence or repress our zeal? Love is not bound by rule; there is no law that can bind it; it is never below the precept, it is always up to the precept, but it always has a margin of its own. It does not calculate, with mathematical exactitude, with how little of obedience it can escape penalty and secure recompense; like its Master it gives in princely style; it is exuberant in its manifestations; there is always enough and to spare. And if meaner motive can prompt to heroic action--if from pure love of science astronomers can cross the ocean familiarly, and dare encounter dangers, just that they may watch in distant climes the transit of a planet across the disc of the sun--and if botanists can travel into inhospitable climes and sojourn among inhospitable men, only to gather specimens of their gorgeous flora--and if, with no motive but love of country, and no recompense save bootless tears and an undying name, a Willoughby could sacrifice himself to blow up a magazine, and a Sarkeld could fire the Cashmere Gate at Delhi, surely we, with obligations incomparably higher, with the vows of profession on our lips, with death busy in the midst of us, and souls going down from our doors into a joyless and blasted immortality, ought to present our life-blood, if need be, for the cause of Christ, and for the good of souls. Let the scoffers spurn at us as they will; we are far superior to such poor contumely. Heaven applauds our enthusiasm, and we vindicate it in the apostle's words: "If we be beside ourselves, it is to God; and if we be sober, it is for your cause." HOW TO SPEAK IN PUBLIC _A Most Suggestive and Practical Self-Instructor_ BY GRENVILLE KLEISER Author of "Power and Personality In Speaking," Etc. This new book is a complete elocutionary manual comprizing numerous exercises for developing the speaking voice, deep breathing, pronunciation, vocal expression, and gesture; also selections for practise from masterpieces of ancient and modern eloquence. It is intended for students, teachers, business men, lawyers, clergymen, politicians, clubs, debating societies, and in fact every one interested in the art of public speaking. OUTLINE OF CONTENTS Mechanics of Elocution Previous Preparation Mental Aspects Physical Preparation Public Speaking Mental Preparation Selections for Practise Moral Preparation Preparation of Speech "Many useful suggestions in it."--_Hon. Joseph H. 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It is an excellent book for college students."--WM. P. FRYE, _President pro tem. of the United States Senate_. _12mo, Cloth, 422 pages._ _Price, $1.25, net; by mail, $1.40._ FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Pubs. NEW YORK AND LONDON _An Indispensable Volume_ for those who would write and speak pure English. A Desk-Book of Errors in English By Frank H. Vizetelly, F.S.A. _Author of "The Preparation of Manuscript for the Printer." Associate Editor of the "Standard Dictionary," etc._ This compact volume deals with the hundred and one questions that arise in daily speech and correspondence, and which are not usually treated in the dictionary in the same manner as in this handy and time-saving book. "So many common errors of speech are dinned in our ears daily that we grow careless and adopt them as correct.... It should be on the table of everyone who wishes to speak pure English."--_The Item, Philadelphia._ "It is a book that should be on every writer's desk. 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8191	----	OUR MASTER Thoughts for Salvationists about Their Lord BY General Bramwell Booth. "_As man He suffered--as God He taught_." TO MY WIFE Contents. Preface I. The Man for the Century II. The Birth of Jesus "_For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord_." (Luke ii. 11.) "_The firstborn among many brethren_." (Rom. viii. 29.) III. Contrasts at Bethlehem IV. Christ Come Again "_And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger_." (Luke ii. 7.) "_Christ formed in you_." (Gal. iv. 19.) V. The Secret of His Rule "_For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin_." (Heb. iv. 15.) VI. A Neglected Saviour "_And He came and found them asleep again: for their eyes were heavy_." (Matt. xxvi. 43.) VII. Windows in Calvary "_And they crucified Him, and parted His garments, casting lots: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet. They parted My garments among them, and upon My vesture did they cast lots. And sitting down they watched Him there_." (Matt. xxvii. 35, 36.) VIII. The Burial of Jesus "_And after this Joseph of Arimathea, being a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews, besought Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus: and Pilate gave him leave. He came therefore, and, took the body of Jesus_." (John xix. 38. And following verses.) IX. Conforming to Christ's Death "_That I may know Him . . . being made conformable unto His death_." (Phil. iii. 10.) X. The Resurrection and Sin "_Concerning His Son Jesus Christ our Lord, which was . . . declared to be the Son of God with power, according to the spirit of holiness, by the resurrection from the dead_." (Rom. i. 3, 4.) XI. "Salvation Is of the Lord" "_Salvation is of the Lord_." (Jonah ii. 9.) "_Work out your own salvation_." (Phil ii. 12.) XII. Self-Denial "_If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me_." (Matt. xvi. 24.) XIII. In Unexpected Places "_And . . . while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus Himself drew near, and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know Him_." (Luke xxiv. 15, 16.) XIV. Ever the Same "_Blessed be the name of God for ever and ever: for wisdom and might are His: and He changeth the times and the seasons_." (Dan. ii. 20, 21.) "_I am the Lord, I change not_." (Mal. iii. 6.) Preface The present volume contains some of the papers bearing on the Birth and Death and Work of our Lord Jesus Christ which I have contributed from time to time to Salvation Army periodicals. I hope that in this form they may continue the service of souls which I am assured they began to render when, one by one, they were first published. Much in them has, I do not doubt, come to me directly or indirectly by inspiration or suggestion of other writers and speakers, and I desire therefore to acknowledge my indebtedness to the living, both inside and outside our borders, as well as to the holy dead. Bramwell Booth. Barnet, _May_, 1908. I. The Man for the Century I. _The Need_. The new Century has its special need. The need of the twentieth century will be men. In every department of the world's life or labour, that is the great want. In religion, in politics, in science, in commerce, in philanthropy, in government, all other necessities are unimportant by comparison with this one. Given men of a certain type, and the religious life of the world will thrive and throb with the love and will of God, and overcome all opposition. Given men of the right stamp, and politics will become another word for benevolence. Provided true men are available, science will take her place as the handmaid of revelation. If only men of power and principle are at hand, commerce will prosper as she has never yet prospered, rooted in the great law which Christ laid down for her: "Do unto others as ye would that they should do unto you." If the men are found to guide it, philanthropy will become a golden ladder of opportunity by which all in misfortune and misery may climb, not only to sufficiency and happiness here, but to purity and plenty for ever. And, given the men of heart, head, and hand for the task, the government of the kingdoms of this world will yet become a fulfilment of the great prayer of Jesus: "Thy will be done on earth, as it is done in Heaven." But all, or nearly all, depends on the men. II. _The Man_. The new Century will demand men. But if men, then certainly a _man_. Human nature has, after all, more influence over human nature than anything else. Abstract laws are of little moment to us until we see them in actual operation. The law of gravitation is but a matter of intelligent wonder while we view its influence in the movements of revolving planets or falling stars; but when we see a baby fall terror-stricken from its little cradle to the floor, "the attraction of large bodies for small ones" takes on a new and heart-felt meaning. The beauty of devotion to truth in the face of opposition hardly stirs an emotion in many of us, as we regard it from the safe distance of our own self-satisfied liberty; but when we see the lonely martyr walk with head erect through the raging mob, and kiss the stake to which he is soon to be bound; when we watch him burn until the kindly powder explodes about his neck, and sends him to exchange his shirt of flame for the robe he has washed in the Blood of the Lamb; then, the beauty, the sincerity, the greatness, the God-likeness of sacrifice, especially of sacrifice for the truth, comes home to us, and captures even the coldest hearts and dullest minds. The revelation of Jesus in the flesh was a recognition of this principle. The purpose of His life and death was to manifest God in the flesh, that He might attract man to God. He took human nature that human nature might see the best of which it was capable. He became a man that men might know to what heights of power a man might rise. He became a man that men might know to what lengths and breadths of love and wisdom a man might attain. He became a man that men might know to what depths of love and service a man might reach. The men we need, then, for the twentieth century will find the pattern Man ready to their hand. Be the demands of the coming years what they may, God is able to raise up men to meet them, men after His own likeness--men of right, men of light, men of might--men who will follow Him in the desperate fight with the hydra-headed monsters of evil of every kind, and who will, by His Name, deliver the souls of men from the slavery of sin and the Hell to which it leads. III. _Standards_. The new Century will demand high standards, both of character and conduct. Explain it how we may, the fact is evident that religion has greatly disappointed the world. The wretched distortion of Christ's teaching which appears in the lives and business of tens of thousands of professed Christians, the namby-pambyism of the mass of Christian teachers towards the evil of sin, and the unholy union, in nearly all the practical proceedings of life, between the world and the bulk of the Christian churches, no doubt largely account for this, so far as Christianity is concerned. Mohammedanism is in a still worse plight, for though, alas! it increases even faster than Christianity, it is helpless at the heart. The mass of its devotees know that between its highest teaching and its best practice there is a great gulf, and they are slowly beginning to look elsewhere for rules by which to guide their lives. And what is true of Mohammedanism is true also of Buddhism--the great religion of the East. Its teachers have largely ceased to be faithful to their own faith; and, as a consequence, that faith is a declining power. Beautiful as much of its teaching undoubtedly is, millions who are nominally Buddhist are estranged by its failures; and are, with increasing unrest, looking this way and that for help in the battle with evil, and for hope amidst the bitter consciousness of sin. Such is a cursory view of the attitude of the opening century towards the great faiths of the world. Perhaps one word more than another sums it all up--especially as regards Christianity--and that word is NEGLECT--cold, stony neglect! And yet men are still demanding standards of life and conduct. The open materialist, the timid agnostic, no less than the avowedly selfish, the vicious and the vile, are asking, with a hundred tongues and in a thousand ways, "Who will show us any good?" The universal conscience, unbribed, unstifled as on the fateful day in Eden--conscience, the only thing in man left standing erect when all else fell--still cries out, "YOU OUGHT!" still rebels at evil, still compels the human heart to cry for rules of right and wrong, and still urges man to the one, and withholds him from the other. And it is--for one reason--because Jesus can provide these high standards for men, that I say He is _The Man for the Century_. The laws He has laid down in the Gospels, and the example He furnished of obedience to those laws in the actual stress and turmoil of a human life, afford a standard capable of universal application. The ruler, contending with unruly men; the workman, fighting for consideration from a greedy employer; the outcast, struggling like an Ishmaelite with Society for a crust of bread; the dark-skinned, sad-eyed mother, sending forth her only babe to perish in the waters of the sacred river of India, thus "giving the fruit of her body for the sin of her soul"; the proud and selfish noble, abounding in all he desires except the one thing needful; the great multitude of the sorrowful, which no man can number, who refuse to be comforted; the dying, whose death will be an unwilling leap in the dark--all these, yea, and all others, may find in the law of Christ that which will harmonise every conflicting interest, which will solve the problems of human life, which will build up a holy character, which will gather up and sanctify everything that is good in every faith and in every man, and will unite all who will obey it in the one great brotherhood of the one fold and the one Shepherd. IV. _Liberty_. The new Century will call for freedom in every walk of human life. That bright dream of the ages--Liberty--how far ahead of us she still lies! What a bondage life is to multitudes! What a vast host of the human race, even of this generation, will die in slavery--actual physical bondage! Slaves in Africa, in China, in Eastern Europe, in the far isles of the sea and dark places of the earth, cry to us, and perish while they cry. What a host, still larger, are in the bondage of unequal laws! Little children, stricken, cursed, and damned, and there is none to deliver. Young men and maidens bound by hateful customs, ruined by wicked associations, torn by force of law from all that is best in life, and taught all that is worst. Nine men out of ten in one of the great European armies are said to be debauched morally and physically by their military service; and all the men in the nation are bound by law to serve. What a host--larger, again, than both the others--of every generation of men are bound by custom in the service of cruelty. It is supposed that every year a million little children die from neglect, wilful exposure, or other form of cruelty. Think of the bondage of those who kill them! Look at the cruelty to women, the cruelty of war, the cruelty to criminals, the cruelty to the animal creation. What a mighty force the slavery of cruel custom still remains! All that is best in man is crying out for emancipation from this bondage, and I know of no deliverance so sure, so complete, so abiding as that which comes by the teaching and spirit of Jesus. But, even if freedom from all these hateful bonds could come, and could be complete, without Him, there still remains a serfdom more degrading, a bondage more inexorable than any of these, for men are everywhere the bond-slaves of sin. Look out upon the world--upon your own part of it, even upon your own family or household--and see how evil holds men by one chain or another, and grips them body and soul. This one by doubt, this by passion, this by envy, this by lust, this by pride, this by strife, this by fear, this one by love of gold, this one by love of the world, and this one by hatred of God! _Is it not so_? What men want, then, is PERSONAL, INDIVIDUAL LIBERTY FROM SIN. Given that, and a slave may be free. Given that, and the child in the nursery of iniquity may be free. Given that, and the young man or maiden held in the charnel-house of lust may be free. Given that, and the victim of all that is most cruel and most brutal in life may still be free. Oh! blessed be God, he whom the Son makes free is free indeed! This, and this alone, is the liberty for the new Century--the Gospel liberty from sin for the individual soul and spirit, without respect of time or circumstance; and here alone is He who can bestow it--Jesus, the Lion of the Tribe of Judah. This, I say, is _The Man for the new Century_. V. _Knowledge_. The new Century will be marked by a universal demand for knowledge. One of the most remarkable features of the present time is the extraordinary thirst for knowledge in every quarter of the world. It is not confined to this continent or that. It is not peculiar to any special class or age. It is universal. One aspect of it, and a very significant one, is the desire for knowledge about life and its origin, about the beginning of things, about the earth and its creation, about the work which we say God did, which He alone could do. Oh, how men search and explore! How they read and think! How they talk and listen! Where one book was read a generation ago, a hundred, I should think, are read now; and for one newspaper then read, there are now, probably, a thousand. Every man is an inquiry agent, seeking news, information, or instruction; seeking to know what will make life longer for him and his; and, above all, what can make it happier. And here, again, I say that _Jesus is The Man for the new Century_. He has knowledge to give which none other can provide. I do not doubt that universities, and schools, and governments, and a great press, can, and will, do much to impart knowledge of all sorts to the world. But when it comes to knowledge that can serve the great end for which the very power to acquire knowledge was created--namely, _the true happiness of man_--then, I say, that JESUS is the source of that knowledge; that without Him it cannot be found or imparted; and that with Him it comes in its liberating and enlightening glory. Oh, be sure _you have that_! No amount of learning will stand you in its stead. No matter how you may have stored your mind with the riches of the past, or tutored it to grapple with the mysteries of the present, _unless you know Him, it will all amount to nothing_. But if you know Him who is life, that is life eternal. Knowledge without God is like a man learned in all the great mysteries of light and heat who has never seen the sun. He may understand perfectly the laws which govern them, the results which follow them, the secrets which control their action on each other--all that is possible, and yet he will be _in the dark_. So, too, knowledge, learning, human education and wisdom are all possible to man; he may even excel in them so as to be a wonder to his fellows by reason of his vast stores of knowledge, and yet know nothing of that light within the mind by which he apprehends them. Nay, more! he may even be a marvellous adept in the theory of religion, and yet, alas! alas! may never have seen its SUN--may still be in the blackness of gross darkness, because he knows not Jesus, the Light of the world, whom to know is life eternal. VI. _Government_. The new Century will demand governors. Every thoughtful person who considers the subject must be struck by the modern tendency towards personal government all over the world. Whatever may be the form of national government prescribed by the various constitutions, it tends, when carried into practice, to give power and authority to individual rulers. Whether in monarchies like England, where Parliament is really the ruling power; or in republics like France and the United States, where what are called democratic institutions are seen in their maturity; or in empires like Germany and Austria, the same leading facts appear. Power goes into the hands of one or two who, whether as ministers, or presidents, or monarchs, are the real rulers of the nation. Perfect laws, liberal institutions, patriotic sentiments, though they may elevate, can never rule a people. A crowd of legislators, no matter how devoted to a nation, can never permanently control, though they may influence it. Out of the crowd will come forth one or two; generally one commanding personality, strong enough to stand alone, though wise enough not to attempt it. In him will be focussed the ideas and ambitions of the nation, to him the people's hearts will go out, and from him they will take the word of command as their virtual ruler. It has ever been so. It is so to-day. It will always be so. And as with nations so with individuals. _Every man must have a king_. Call him what we will, recognise him or not, every man is the subject of some ruler. And this will, if possible, be more manifest in the future than in the past. Men will not be satisfied to serve ideas, to live for the passing ambitions of their day, they will cry out for a king. Am I wrong when I say that JESUS IS THE COMING KING? In Him are assembled in the highest perfection all the great qualities which go to make the KING OF MEN. And so the new Century will need Him, must have Him; nay, it cannot prosper without Him, the Divine Man, for He is the rightful Sovereign of every human soul. VII. _A New Force_. The new Century will demand great moral forces as well as high ideals. Nothing is more evident than that the forms and ceremonies of religion are rapidly losing--even in nominally Christian countries--all real influence over the lives of men. The form of godliness without the power is not only the greatest of all shams, but it is the most easily detected. Hence it is that a large part of mankind is either disgusted to hostility or utterly estranged from real religion by theories and ceremonials which, though they may continue to exist in shadow, have lost their life and soul. For example, the old lie, that money paid to a Church can buy "indulgences" which will release men in the next world from the penalty of sin committed in this, and the miserable theory which made God the direct author of eternal damnation to those who are lost, are among the theories which, though they are still taught and professed here and there, have long ago ceased to have real influence over men's hearts or actions. In the same way, there are multitudes who still conform to the outward ceremony of Confirmation, upon whose salvation from sin or separation from the world that ceremony has absolutely no influence whatever, although, for custom's sake, they submit to it. But a greater danger than this lies in the fact that _it is possible to hold and believe the truth, and yet to be totally ignorant of its power_. Sound doctrine will of itself never save a soul. A man may believe every word of the faith of a Churchman or a Salvationist, and yet be as ignorant of any real experience of religion as an infidel or an idolater. And it is this merely intellectual or sentimental holding of the truth about God and Christ, about Holiness and Heaven, which makes the ungodly mass look upon Christianity as nothing more than an opinion or a trade; a something with which they have no concern. The new Century will demand something more than this. Men will require something beyond creeds, be they ever so correct; and traditions, be they ever so venerable; and sacraments, be they ever so sacred. They will ask for an endowment of power to grapple with what they feel to be base in human nature, and to master what they know is selfish and sinful in their own hearts. And right here _The Man for the Century_ comes forward. The doctrine of Jesus is the spirit of a new life. It is a transforming power. A man may believe that the American Republic is the purest and noblest form of government on the earth, and may give himself up to live, and fight, and die for it, and yet be the same man in every respect as he was before; but if he believes with his heart that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and gives himself up to live, and fight, and die for Him, he will become a new man, he will be a new creature. The acceptance of the truth, and acting upon it, in the one case, will make a great change in his manner of life--his conduct; the acceptance of the truth, and acting upon it, in the other, will make a great change in the man _himself_--in his tastes and motives, in his very nature. Again, I say, this is what we shall need for the new Century. Not good laws only, but the power to observe them. Not beautiful and lofty ideals only, but the power to translate them into the daily practice of common lives. Not merely the glorious examples of a pure faith, but the actual force which enables men to live by that faith amid the littleness, the depression, the contamination, and the conflict of an evil world. VIII. _Atonement_. The new Century will demand an atonement for sin. The consciousness of sin is the most enduring fact of human experience. From generation to generation, from age to age, amidst the ceaseless changes which time brings to everything else, this one great fact remains, persists--_the condemning consciousness of sin_. It appears with men in the cradle, and goes with them to the tomb; without regard to race, or language, or creed it is ever with us. It was this robbed Eden of its joys; it is this makes life a round of labour and sorrow; it is this gives death its terrors; it is this makes the place of torment which men call Hell--for the unceasing consciousness of sin will be "the worm that never dies." All attempts to explain it away, to modify its miseries, to extract its sting--whether they have come from the party of unbelief, or the party of education, or the party of amusement, have failed--and failed utterly. No matter what men say or do to get rid of it, there it is--staring them in the face! Whether they look amongst the most highly civilized peoples or amongst the lowest savages; whether they look into the past history of mankind or into its present condition, there is the _stupendous fact of sin_, and there is the incontrovertible fact that everywhere _men are conscious of it_. It is going to be so in this twentieth century. If God, in His mercy, allows the families of men to continue during another hundred years, this great fact will still stand out in the forefront of life. Sin will still be the skeleton at every feast, the horrid ghost haunting every home and every heart, the spectre, clothed with reproaches, ever ready to plunge his dripping sword into every breast. Sin. The world's sin. The sin of this one generation. The sin of one city. The sin of one family. The sin of one man--_my sin_! Ah! depend upon it, the twentieth century will cry aloud, "_What shall be done with our sin_?" Yet, thanks be to God! there is an atonement. The MAN of whom I write has made a propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world. He stands forth the ONLY SAVIOUR. None other has ever dared even to offer to the sin-stricken hearts of men relief from the _guilt_ of sin. _But He does_. He can cleanse, He can pardon, He can purify, He can save, because _He has redeemed_. "Thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us unto God by Thy blood, out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation." Will you come and join in our great world-mission of making His atonement known? Will you turn your back on the littleness, and selfishness, and cowardice of the past, and arise, in the strength of the God-Man, to publish to all you can reach, by tongue, and pen, and example, that there is a sacrifice for men's sins--for the worst, for the most wretched, for the most tortured? As you set your face with high resolve towards the unknown years, take your stand with THE MAN FOR ALL THE AGES; and let this be your message, your confidence, your hope for all men-"_Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world_!" II. The Birth of Jesus. "_For unto you is born . . . a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord._" --Luke ii. 11. "_The firstborn among many brethren_."--Romans viii. 29. The birth of Jesus is one of the great signs of His condescension; and, no matter how we view it, is perhaps scarcely less wonderful than His death. If the one manifests His glorious divinity, then the other exalts His wonderful humanity. If Calvary and the Resurrection reveal His power, does not Bethlehem make manifest His love? And did not both the former come out of the latter? The infinite glory which belongs to the cross and the tomb had its rise in the gloom of the stable. If the Babe had not been laid in the manger, then the Man would not have been nailed to the tree, and the Lamb that was slain would not have taken His place on the Everlasting Throne. I claim, therefore, a little more attention to the events which relate to the Saviour's birth, and to the lessons which may be derived from them; and though, perhaps, something of what I have to say will have already occurred to some who will read this paper, I will venture to suggest one or two thoughts as they have been presented to my own mind. Their very simplicity has made them of service to me. I. _He Came_. The nature of the whole work of our redemption is made manifest by the one fact--_He really came_. His everlasting love, His infinite compassion, His all-embracing purpose were from eternity; but we only got to know of it all because _He came_. If He had contented Himself with sending messages or highly-placed messengers, or even with making occasional and wonderful excursions of Divine revelation, man would, no doubt, have been greatly attracted, and perhaps even helped somewhat in his tremendous conflict with evil; yet he might never have been subdued in will, he might never have been touched and won back to God; he might never have been brought down from his pride to cry out, "My Lord and my God." No, it was _His coming to us_ that wrought conviction of sin, and then conviction of the truth in our hearts. He came Himself. There is something very wonderful in this principle of _contact_ as illustrated by the life of Jesus. Just as to save the human race He felt it necessary to come into it, and clothe Himself with its nature and conform Himself to its natural laws, so all the way through His earthly journey He was constantly seeking to _come into touch_ with the people He desired to bless. He touched the sick, He fed the hungry, He placed His fingers on the blind eyes, and put them upon the ears of the deaf, and touched with them the tongue of the dumb. He took the ruler's dead daughter "by the hand, and the maid arose." He lifted the little children up into His arms, and blessed them; He stretched forth His hand to sinking Peter; He stood close by the foul-smelling body of the dead Lazarus; He took the bread, and with His own hands brake it, and gave it to His disciples at that last farewell meal. He even took poor Thomas's trembling hand, and guided it to the prints in His hands and the wounds in His side. Yes, indeed, it is written large, in every part of His life, that He really came, and that He came very near to lost and suffering men. Is there not a lesson here for us, my comrade? As He is in the world, so are we. This principle in His life was not by accident or by chance, it was an essential qualification of His nature for the work entrusted to Him. It is a necessary qualification for those who are called to carry on that work. Is this, then, the impression you are able to give to those among whom you labour: that you have come to them in very truth; that in mind and soul, in hand and heart, you are seeking to come into the closest contact of love and sympathy with them, especially with those who most need you? Oh, aim at this! Do not for your own sake, as well as for your Master's, move about amid your own people, or among those to whom God and The Army have given you entrance, as one who has little in common with them, who does not know them, who does not feel with them. Go into their houses, put your hand sometimes to their burdens, take a share in their toils, nurse their sick, weep with them that weep, and rejoice with them that rejoice. Make them feel that it is your own religion, rather than The Army system, that has made you come to them. Let them see by your sympathy and kindness that love is the over-mastering influence in your life, the influence that has brought you to them. Compel them to turn to you as a warm-hearted unselfish example of the truths you preach. Let them feel that you are indeed come from God to take them by the hand, as far as may be, and lead them through this Vale of Tears to the City of Light and Rest. II. _His Humble Origin_. Everything associated with the advent of Jesus seems to have been specially ordered to mark His humiliation. It is true that Mary, His mother, was of the lineage of King David, but her relationship with the royal house was a very distant one, and the family had fallen upon sad times. The Romans were masters in the land, and a stranger sat upon the throne of Israel. Mary, therefore, was but a poor village maiden; Joseph, her betrothed husband, was a carpenter--an ordinary working man. Bethlehem, the place of the Saviour's birth, was a tiny straggling village, which, though not the least, was certainly one of the least of the villages of Judea. And Nazareth, where He grew from infancy to childhood, and from youth to manhood, was another little hamlet among the hilly country to the north of Jerusalem, and was held in low repute by the people of those days. The occupation chosen for the early life of Jesus was a humble one. He learned the trade of a joiner, and worked with Joseph at the carpenter's bench. His associates and friends were of the village community, and He "whose Name is above every name" passed to and fro and in and out among the cottage homes of the poor--as one of themselves. Probably none but His mother had, in these early years, any true idea of the mysterious promise which had been given concerning Him. What a contrast it all presents to the years of stress and storm and of victory which were to follow, and to the supreme influence His teaching and example were to exert in the world! Is there not something here for us? Do not the lowly origin and simple country habits and humble tastes of some of our comrades make them hesitate on the threshold of great efforts, when they ought to leap forward in the strength of their God? Let them remember their Master, and take courage. Let them call to mind the unfashionable, uneducated, uncultivated surroundings of Nazareth. Let them bear in mind the carpenter's shed, the rough country work, the bare equipment of the village home, the humble service of the family life. Let them, above all, remember the plain and gentle mother, and the meek and lowly One Himself, and in this remembrance let them go forward. To be of lowly origin, or of a mean occupation; to come out of poverty and want; to be looked down upon by the rich or the powerful ones of earth; to be treated as of no consequence by governments and rulers, and yet to go on doing and daring, suffering and conquering for God and right; what is all this but the fulfilment of Paul's words, "And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: that no flesh should glory in His presence"? Nay, what is it all but to tread in the very steps that the Master trod? III. _His High Nature_. But if, on the human side, our Redeemer's origin and circumstances were of the humblest, and we are thus enabled to see His humanity, as it were face to face, there was united with it the Divine nature; so that as our _Doctrines_ say, "He is truly and properly God, and He is truly and properly man." Many mysteries meet by the side of that manger, some of them to remain mysteries, so far as human understanding can grapple with things, till God Himself reveals them to our stronger vision in the world to come. But, blessed be God, some, things that we cannot compass with our mental powers are very grateful to our hearts. How Thou canst love me as I am, Yet be the God Thou art, Is darkness to my intellect, But sunshine to my heart. And we to whom the Living Christ has spoken the word of life and liberty, although we may not now fully comprehend this great wonder of all wonders--God manifest in the flesh--and may not be able effectively to make it plain to others, we cannot for ourselves doubt its central truth--_that_ GOD _dwelt with man_. Here was, indeed, a perfect union of two spirits. There was the suffering and obedient spirit of the true _man_; there was the unchanging and Holy Spirit of the true God. It was a union--it was a unity. It was God in man--it was man in God. A being of infinite might and perfect moral beauty, sent forth from the bosom of the Father; and yet a being of lowly and sensitive tenderness, having roots in our poor human nature, tempted in all points like as we are, and touched with the feeling of all our infirmities. Is it not to something of the same kind we are called? Is not every true Salvation Army Officer designed by God to be also (not, of course, in the same degree, but still up to the measure of his own capacity and of his Master's will) a dual, or two-fold creature, with associations and roots and attachments in all that is human, and yet with the divine life, the divine spirit, divine love, divine zeal, divine power, divine fire united with him and dwelling in him? The perfect man would have been a great marvel, a great teacher, a great prophet; but without the God he could never have been the perfect Saviour. The Divine, without the human, would have been an awe-inspiring fact, a spectacle of holiness too great for human eyes; but He could not have been a Saviour. If it were possible for us to conceive the one without the other we should certainly not find a JESUS in either. And so, your merely _human_ Officer, no matter how pure, how strong, how thoughtful, how clever, how industrious, will fail, and ever fail. And even so the Officer who is lost in visionary seeking after the Divine alone, to the neglect of action, of duty, of law, of self-denial, of the common conflicts and contracts of the man, will equally fail, and always fail. It is the man we want. The MAN--but the man born of the SPIRIT. The MAN--but the man full of the HOLY GHOST. The MAN--but the man with PENTECOST blazing in his head and heart and soul. Comrade, what are you? Are you striving to be a prophet without possessing the spirit of the prophets? Are you trying to be a priest without the priestly baptism? Are you labouring to be a king without the Divine anointing? Beware! IV. _From Infancy to Manhood_. Birth implies the weakness, the dependence, the ignorance of infancy. But it implies, also, the promise of growth, of increase, of advance from infancy to manhood. Thus it is with man generally. So it was with the Son of Man. First, He was "wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger." Presently He goes forth in His mother's arms into Egypt, and back to Nazareth. By and by it is written that "the Child grew and waxed strong in spirit, and the grace of God was upon Him." Then He is found in the Temple, asking that wonderful question about His Father's business, and at last we find Him "increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man." We know, also, that He was found in fashion as a servant, and was obedient unto death; that He was tempted of the Devil, and that "He learned obedience by the things that He suffered." In fact, a very slight acquaintance with the history of His life reveals the truth that in some wonderful way He steadily grew in wisdom and grace; in the power to love and to serve, and in strength to grapple with sin and death--all the while He journeyed from the cradle to the grave and the victory beyond. His life was a discipline, in the very highest sense of the word. Many of the hopes He might rightly entertain about the success of His work were dashed. Much of His love for those around Him was disappointed, and His trust betrayed. He was despised where He should have been honoured: rejected where He should have been received. "He came unto His own, and His own received Him not." "Not this man," they cried, "but Barabbas." But out of it all He came forth perfect and entire, lacking nothing--the chiefest among ten thousand, the altogether lovely. It may be a mystery, but it is a fact all the same, that the more the precious and wondrous and eternal jewel was cut and cut again, the more the light and glory of the Day-spring from on High was made manifest to men. And here also I find a word of help and courage and cheer for you and me, my precious comrade. I am not sure that you could receive any more valuable Christmas gift than the full realisation of this truth--_that your advance from the infancy to the manhood of your life in God will not be hindered and delayed, but rather will be helped and quickened by the storms and trials, the conflicts and sufferings, which will overtake you_. It was so with the man Christ Jesus; it has been so with thousands of His chosen. As He, our dear Lord, was made perfect through suffering, so are His saints. We are "chosen in the furnace of affliction," and often cast into it, too! And yet He who chooses all our changes, might have spared us every trial and conflict, and taken us to victory without a battle, and to rest without a toil. But He knows better what will make us _men_, and it is _men_ He wants to glorify Him--men, not babes. The dark valleys of bitterness and loneliness are often better for us than the land of Beulah. A certain queen, once sitting for her portrait, commanded that it should be painted without shadows. "Without shadows!" said the astonished artist. "I fear your Majesty is not acquainted with the laws of light and beauty. There can be no good portrait without shading." No more can there be a good Salvationist without trial and sorrow and storm. There might, perhaps, remain a stunted and unfruitful infant life--but a _man_ in Christ Jesus, a _Soldier_ of the Cross, a _leader_ of God's people, without tribulation _there can never be_. Patience, experience, faith, hope, love, if they do not actually grow from tribulations, are helped by them in their growth. For what says the Apostle? "Tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope, and hope maketh not ashamed." The finest pine-trees grow in the stormiest lands. The tempests make them strong. Surgeons tell us that their greatest triumphs are often those in which the patients have suffered most at their hands--for every stroke of the knife is to heal. The child you most truly love is the one you most anxiously correct, and "whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth." Oh, _do_ believe that by every blow of disappointment and sorrow He permits to fall upon you, He is striving to bring you to the measure of the stature of a man in Christ Jesus. _Do_ work with Him in the full knowledge that He will not forsake you. He, the Man who has penetrated to the heart of every form of sorrow, and left a blessing there; He who has watched in silence by every kind of earthly grief, and found its antidote: the Man who trod the wine-press alone--He will be with you. And, since He is with you, see to it you acquit yourself well in His presence. It is related of an old Highland chief that when advancing to give battle he fell at the head of his clan, pierced by two balls from the foe. His men saw him fall, and began to waver. But their wounded captain instantly raised himself on his elbow, and, with blood streaming from his wounds, exclaimed, "Children, I am not dead; _I am looking to see if you do your duty_!" My comrade, this is the path of progress, the way of advance from the littleness and weakness of infancy to the battles and victories of manhood. It is the way of duty, and your Captain, with the wounds in His hands and His side, is looking on. III. Contrasts at Bethlehem. The birth and infancy of Jesus--notwithstanding that Christmas time comes round again and again--receive less attention than they deserve; owing, no doubt, to the interest attached to the events of His manhood and death. Nevertheless, they suggest some useful lessons, especially to those of us who have much to do with the weak and trembling, and are ourselves, alas! often weak and trembling, too. May I offer one or two thoughts on the subject, which, though quite simple, have proved of blessing to my own heart? I. _Great weakness may be quite consistent with true greatness and goodness_. It is unnecessary to dwell even for a moment on the weakness of the Infant Jesus. The Scripture has left no possible doubt about it. Unable to speak, to walk, indeed to do anything for Himself--weak with all the weakness of the human race; yea, more truly helpless than a young bird or a tiny worm, the Holy Child was laid in the manger hard by the beasts that perish. And yet we know that there was the Divine SON, the Express Image of the Father, the Everlasting King, the Enthroned One, the Creator, "without whom was not anything made that was made"! It is indeed a contrast, which first astounds us, and then compels our adoration and love. Our God is a consuming Fire--_our God is a little Child_. Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord of Hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory--_and yet He is there in fashion as a Babe_, for whom, in all His sweet innocence, they cannot find a room in the crowded inn. Yes, my friend, to be weak, to be small, to be sadly unfit for the strifes of time; to feel weary and unequal to the hard battles of life; to realise that you are pushed out and away by the crowd, to be contemptuously forgotten by the multitude shouting and singing across the road--all this may be your case; and _yet_ you may be God's chosen vessel, intended--framed "to suffer and triumph with Him." You, even you, may be destined by His wisdom to fill for Him some great place in action against the hosts of iniquity and unbelief. Above all, you may be appointed by God the Father to be like His Son, with a holy likeness of will, of affection, of character. For, indeed, weakness in many things is not inconsistent with goodness, and purity, and love. The manger has in this also a message for us. Out of that mystery of helplessness came forth the Lion-Heart of Love, which led Him, for us, to the winepress alone, and which, while we were yet rebels, loved us with an everlasting love, going, for us, to a lonely and shameful death. Take heart, then, remembering that it is out of weakness we are to be made strong. Be of good courage--to-day may be the day of the enemy's strength, when you are constrained to cry out: "This is your hour and the power of darkness!" but to-morrow will be _yours_. The weakness and humiliation of the stable must go before the Mount of Transfiguration, the Mount of Calvary, the Resurrection Glory, and the exaltation of the Father's Throne. Take heart! II. _A condition of complete dependence may be quite consistent with a great vocation--the call, that is, to a great work_. I suppose that there is nothing known to man so absolutely dependent upon the help of others as a little child! Life itself begins in total dependence upon another life, and is only preserved in still greater dependence on powers outside itself--for air, for light, for heat, for food, for clothes, for comfort--indeed, for every needed thing. This is especially the case with the child. The young lions and sheep, the tiny flies and the small fishes--these are all able to do something for their own support; but the new-born babe presents a picture of complete dependence. And this Babe was no exception. What a service of imperishable worth to all the world was rendered by His mother in her loving care of Him! And yet we know something of the stupendous task to which He came! That little Child was to become the greatest Example, the greatest Teacher, the greatest, the only Saviour, the greatest Healer of the sorrows of men, the greatest Benefactor, the greatest Ruler and King. Upon Him and upon His word, who lies there in His Virgin mother's arms, dependent on her breast for life and warmth, unnumbered multitudes were to rest their all for this life and the next--tens of thousands, in the face of inexpressible agonies, were to trust to Him their every hope, and for His sake were to die a thousand deaths. Let not, then, your heart be troubled because you also are so dependent on others--so hedged in by your circumstances, so limited by sickness and pain, so incompetent through inexperience and ignorance, or that you are so compelled to stand and wait when you would fain rush on and do or dare for your Lord. All this may be even so, and yet you may be called to share in the same high vocation as your Saviour. I read lately of an old saint chained for weary years to a dungeon-wall, unable even to feed himself, whose testimony for Jesus was powerful to the deliverance of many of his persecutors. He was killed at last, lest, one by one, he should convert the jailers also who were employed to supply him with food. Are you "bound" in some way? Are you chained fast to some strange trial? Are you appointed to serve in what seems like a den of beasts? Are you under the compulsion of some injustice? Are you made to feel helpless and useless without the support of those around you? Ah, well, do not repine. Do not forget that God's call comes often--Oh, so often--to just such as you--to witness for Him in spite of "these bonds," to declare the truth, to dare to reprove sin. Above all, _do not doubt your God. You may be very dependent to-day, but you may be more than victorious to-morrow_. III. _Poverty and friendlessness are often found in company with a great heart_. There was no home for Jesus in Bethlehem. There was no room for Him in the inn. There was no cradle in the stable. There was no protector when Herod arose to kill. What a strange world it is! Did ever babe open eyes on such a topsy-turvy condition of affairs? The King of Glory had not where to lay His head! Mary, it is true, was strong in faith, but both she and Joseph must needs soon fly into Egypt with the Babe. Refused at the inn, soon even the stable must cast them out! He came to take all men into His heart, and they, ere ever they saw Him, cast Him forth as an outlaw! And we who know what it means to be loved of Him, what can we say? Our hearts are bowed with something of shame and grief that He thus suffered, and yet we have a secret joy because He suffered so well! For of all the greatnesses of the Babe this is the greatest--the greatness of His heart. "The Sacred Heart of Jesus," the Romanists call it. "The All-Conquering Heart of Jesus," I prefer to name it. For it was His wealth of love that really gave Him the victory. Does one read these lines who is poor, who is cast out by those who are dear, who is a stranger in a strange land, who is driven from "pillar to post," who is harassed by open foes and wounded by secret enmity? Well, to that one let me say, remember your Lord's poverty and friendlessness; remember the tossings up and down of His infancy; the frugal cottage home in Nazareth wherein His family was finally gathered--despite its bareness and toil--was a place of peace and abundance, compared with the stable, the flight into Egypt, and the sojourn among aliens there. Are you, dear friend, tempted to complain of your narrow surroundings, of your small opportunity to shine before others, or of a want of appreciation of your service and gifts and powers by those who should know you? Oh, remember the Babe, and the long years of His condescension to men of low estate, to the cramped surroundings of the carpenter's shed, and the sleepy Jewish village. Are you tried sometimes because you have to suffer the hatred or jealousy, secret or open, of those for whom you feel nothing but goodwill, and who perhaps once thought themselves happy in your friendship? Well, in such hours, remember your Master, and the hatred of Herod seeking to kill the Child. Try to call to mind something of the secret, as well as the open, bitterness of men, religious and irreligious alike, which began to hunt Him while yet in swaddling clothes, and which hunted Him still all through His days. But amidst it all, what a great heart of passionate love was His! Blessed be His Name for ever! Whether the poverty and suffering and hatred were or were not favourable to it, there it was--_the Great Heart of all the world_. What about you? Can you ever be again the same since you learned that He loved you? Can you ever be again content to remain little and narrow, with interests and affections that are little and narrow also? Will you not rise, as He rose, above the small ambitions of the spiritual pigmies who meet you at every turn, determined to look beyond your own tiny circle, and the low aims of those around you? Depend upon it, you ought to do so. Depend upon it, the Holy Saviour can enable you to do so. Depend upon it, the world's great need is "Great Hearts." Will you be one? IV. Christ Come Again. "_And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger_."--Luke ii. 7. "_Christ formed in you_."--Gal. iv. 19. The life of Jesus Christ in Palestine was a foreshadowing of His life in all who accept Him. God appointed Him a Saviour, not only because He should bring redemption nigh by a sacrifice which He alone could offer, but because He was also appointed to be the firstborn of many brethren, to be the head of a new family, the beginning--the new Adam--the first of a new line, in which character should cease to be merely human, even though perfect with all human perfections, and should become a union of the human and the Divine; in which, in fact, the body and mind and spirit of man should continue to exhibit the wonder of Christ's Incarnation, and show forth God clothed with man. The life of Jesus divides itself quite naturally into several distinct periods, each having its own special characteristics and peculiar history. There is His birth and infancy; His childhood; His youth; His manhood; His perfected or completed life following Calvary and the Resurrection; and, may we not say, His eternal glory, upon which a few of His disciples saw Him begin to enter in the transcending splendour of the Ascension. Every one of these phases or sections of His wonderful experience of earth has its continuing lessons for us. All speak aloud to us of His purposes and plans, and reveal to us the power and force of His inner life in the outward or public appearances and acts which belong to each. God has hidden many things from us--mysteries of nature, of grace, of eternity; but this mystery of God's relations to men, He has exhausted His resources in order to make plain. Before all else the life of Jesus is a revelation of the mind and methods, the principles and the practices of God, as they ought to appear, and as they ought to work out, amid the surroundings and limitations of humanity. It is to the beginnings of that life to which our thoughts turn at this Christmas season. We dwell with affection on the oft-depicted picture, and repeat the oft-repeated words, and join in the old, old Hallelujahs of the shepherds with something of the zest and freshness of a first love. The story is so unlike all others, and touches with such unerring potency chords in the human soul which call it to a higher and nobler life, that, no matter who gazes upon the Babe of Bethlehem, he feels a kinship with all the world in hailing the Desire of all Nations. The manger, the silent companions of the stable, the swaddling clothes--what a touch of human tenderness--_motherliness_, so to speak--is in that line, "and wrapped Him in swaddling clothes"!--the adoring shepherds, the star, the wise men (all thoughts of their wisdom for the moment gone); the gold, the frankincense, the myrrh, the rejoicing and yet trembling mother, the little Child--we see it all. Seeing, we believe; and believing, we rejoice. The Day Star from on High hath visited _us_. We _know_ in whom we have believed. The great condescension is before us. Strength has made itself dependent on weakness, cause upon effect, eternity upon time, God upon man; and He has done it for our sakes. The Divine condescension never appears so new and so real to us as when we stand at the side of this lowly cradle. Here are no high-sounding doctrines, no hard words, no terrible commands, no far-off thunders of a new Sinai, no rumblings of a coming Judgment. Here we see Jesus, and Jesus only. Jesus showing Himself in our very own flesh and blood; submitting Himself to the weakness of our infirmities; voluntarily clothing Himself with our ignorance, and making God the present tangible possession of the whole human family, bringing Him "_very nigh to us, in our mouth and in our heart, if we can but believe_." And, more than this, God joined in that Babe His great strength to our great nothingness; He bound us to Himself; He robed us, as it were, with Himself, and He robed Himself in us. Henceforth the Tabernacle of God is with men. Henceforth every one of us may be conscious of an inward Presence, of which we may say in holy joy: "Angels and men before Him fall, and devils fear and fly." It is this manifestation of Jesus in His people for which the Apostle prays in the words I have quoted, "My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you." Nothing less will satisfy him, because he knew that nothing less will prevail against the power of the world, the flesh, and the Devil, in any human heart. "_Christ formed in you_," Christ born again in them--that is his agonised prayer, his one hope for them. In the workshops of human effort no instruments, no skill, no motive power exist for the formation and development of character apart from the energising vitality of God's Spirit dwelling in us. He is the indispensable foundation of any goodness, or wisdom, or beauty that can last. Purity begins and ends in Him. Faith finds her author and finisher in Him. Truth, which is the beauty of the soul, is but a reflection of His image, and love has no being but in Him. And so Paul says, _Let Him in_. Conformity to His example is only possible by the re-formation in you of His life, and the growth again in you of His person; the mind of Christ in your mind, the spirit of Christ in your spirit, the presence of Christ in your flesh and blood; the motive power of Christ, the Father's will, prompting your every thought and word and deed, and thereby transforming your body into a temple of the Son of God. And, because, in this unity of purpose with the Father, the Christ of Glory stooped to the infancy and childhood of Nazareth, yielding Himself completely to the bonds and limits inseparable from the life and conditions of a little child, and thinking no humiliation of our nature too deep for His love to tread, _so He will condescend to the lowest depths of weakness and want revealed in your heart and life_. He will meet you where you are. He will deal with you just where you are weakest and worst. This is indeed the key-note of all that God has to show you. It is your own link in the long chain of patient and ever-new revelations of God to man. For what is the history of man, what is the story the Bible has to tell, what is the testimony of all time, but that God has ever been speaking to man, appearing to man, opening now his eyes, and now his understanding, and now his heart, and making an everlastingly new revelation to the soul that God in him is his sole hope of glory. And His Christmas-message to-day is still the same. To you, if you are willing, Christ will come as really, as sensibly, as wonderfully--nay, a thousand times more so--as He came to Mary and to Bethlehem. In truth, a second coming; but in many and wonderful ways like unto the first. I. The childhood of Jesus was attended by remarkable recognitions of His Divinity. At His birth, at His dedication, in Herod's instant resolve to kill Him, in the Temple with the fathers, by many clear tokens men confessed and acknowledged that He was the Son of God. If He is being formed in you there will be equally definite and not very dissimilar signs of recognition. First, before all else, you will know, with Mary, that the new life entrusted to you is Divine; that God has entered into your heart to make all things new. It is just the absence of this assurance which stamps so much of the Christianity of the present day as--in effect--a religion without God. Its professors have no certainty. They seek, but they do not find; they ask, but they do not receive; they have no sure foundation in the sanction of their own consciousness to the indwelling Person; they have no revelation; they have, in short, no God. How far--even as the east is from the west--is this from the glorious confidence with which Mary sang, and in which you can join, if, indeed, your Christ is come: "My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced _in God my Saviour_." Salvation is of the Lord, and so is the assurance of it. Where there is the life of God, there will be His witness, even in the heart of the weakest and slowest servant of all His household. If you are not clear about this first evidence of your Lord's coming, let me counsel you that there is something wrong. _If Christ be formed in you, you will assuredly know it beyond the power of men or devils to make you doubt_. But others than Mary also acknowledge this appearance of God "manifest in the flesh." The shepherds and the Wise Men, Holy Simeon, and Herod the king, each in his own way adds his own tribute to the New Life that had come down to man. The shepherds and the strangers from afar bow down and worship. Strangers, perhaps, were more ready to rejoice with you than your own kith and kin when first Christ came to you. Simeon, who had so desired to see the salvation of God, sees and is satisfied. Perhaps some Simeon had thus watched and waited and wept for you, and when the Lord came to His temple, he saw it, and was ready to depart with joy. Herod the king sought to kill the Child. So it is even now. Don't be deceived; where Christ comes, storms come. The world of selfishness and power and wealth will kill the Divine Thing in you, if it can. Between the prince of this world and the Prince of the world to come no truce was possible long ago in quiet Judea, and no truce is possible now. The spirit of the world is still the spirit of murder. It is called by other names to-day, and, under its influence, men will tell you that the life of God in you is not to take those forms of violent opposition to wrong, and of passionate devotion to right, and of burning zeal and self-denial for the lost, which they took in Jesus. The real meaning of their tale is that they are seeking to kill the Child. But do not be dismayed. Remember Mary's flight into Egypt. The great peril of her Son made her regardless of her friends, of her reputation, of her home, of her life. She must guard that precious Life at any cost, at any risk, at any loss. Is there not a lesson in her example? Let nothing, let not all the sum total of this world's pleasures and possessions lead you to risk the Life of God in your soul. Listen to no voices that counsel friendship, or parley, or compromise with the world--_the spirit of Herod is in it_. If you cannot preserve that Indwelling without flying--from somewhere, or something, or some one--then fly. If you cannot guard that Presence without losing all, then let all be lost, and in losing all you shall find more than all. II. Side by side with these evidences of His Divinity the infancy and childhood of Jesus revealed His dependence and weakness; that is, _the reality of His human nature_. The first recorded act of His mother shows us one aspect of that weakness after a fashion which appeals to the tenderest recollections of the whole human family, "_She wrapped Him in swaddling clothes_"; and then, as though to mark for ever the perfection of dependence, the history goes on, "_and laid Him in a manger_." There are other equally striking incidents teaching just as clearly that the Babe was a babe, and that the Child was really a child. It is the perfect union of Him "Who was, and is, and is to come," with him who flourisheth as the flower of the field; the wind passeth over him, and he is gone. Even so may Christ be formed in you. The purity and dignity of His life will be all the more wonderfully glorious in the eyes of men and angels because it is linked with dependence and trial, and weakness and sorrow. As it was at Nazareth, so it is now. Hand in hand with Divinity walked hunger and weariness, poverty, disappointment, and toil. Did we think it would be otherwise? Did we, do we, sometimes wonder why the road is so rough, and the burden so heavy, and the sky so dark? Are we found asking the old question about sitting on the twelve thrones, judging those around us, and sharing in some way the royal glory of a King? and is there an echo of murmuring at these bonds and infirmities and drudgeries of daily duty and common sorrow? So did the Rabbis of old, and, in consequence, refused Him. Ah! the answer to it all is in the one word, it was because "He was made perfect through suffering;" it was because He learned obedience by the things He suffered that He must do it again through you--in you. Every energy of your being may thus be sanctified. Every pain, every sorrow, every joy, every purpose will be--not taken away; not crushed and hardened into a series of unfeeling forms and empty signs; not passed over as having no relation to his life, but touched and purified and ennobled with the love and power of an indwelling God. Yes, it is _man_ whom He came to restore--it is _man_, whose beauty and power were the glory of creation, that drew Him with infinite attractions from the centre of His Father's heaven, and plunged Him into the centre of a very hell of suffering and shame. It was man whose nature, passing by the angels, He took upon Him. It was man He swore to save. He loves our manhood--its will--its intelligence--its emotions--its passions; and it is our manhood He has redeemed. He designs to make men really men, to cleanse--to restore--to indwell in them, and finally to present every one in the beauty of a perfected character before the presence of His Father, without spot or blemish or any such thing. It is this great principle of Redemption that has found expression in The Salvation Army. We are of those who see in every human being the ruins of the Temple of God; but ruins which can be repaired and reconstructed, that He may fit them for His own possession, and then return and make them His abode. Never listen to that fatal lie, that to be a man means of necessity to be always a sinner; that humanity is only another word for irreclaimable desert or irreparable despair. When the enemy of your soul whispers to you out of his lying heart that because sin has found one of its strongholds in the appetites and propensities of your poor body, or in the original perversity of a rebellious spirit, and that you cannot be expected to triumph over that evil nature because it _is_ your nature, remember Bethlehem, and answer him with the promise of God, "_I will dwell in you, and walk in you_." It was because He purposed to cleanse wholly, body and soul and spirit, that He came, taking the body, soul, and spirit of a man, and that He will come again, taking your body, soul, and spirit as His dwelling-place. III. The birth and childhood of Jesus were the beginning of His great sacrifice, as well as the preparation for it. The spirit of Bethlehem and the spirit of Calvary are one. He was born for others that He might die for others. The mystery of God in the Babe was the beginning of the mystery of God on the cross. The one was a part of the other. If they had not "laid Him in a manger" for us, they could never have laid Him in the tomb, that He might "taste death for every man." And it was because "He grew, and waxed strong in spirit, and increased in wisdom, and the grace of God was upon Him" in those early years, that He was able afterwards to tread the winepress alone, to work out a perfect example of manhood, to wrestle with Death and the Grave, and finally to stand forth for us as the great Victorious One, conqueror of all our foes. And is it not in this same fashion and for this same purpose that Christ is to be formed in us? "_He grew_." Progress is the law of happiness, the law of holiness, the law of life. To stand still is to die. It was not enough for the fulfilment of His great mission that He should be born, that He should live--He must grow. Let us take that lesson to our hearts, in this superficial, painted, rushing generation. Let us beware of resting our hope to satisfy the eternal claims of God upon some great event in our spiritual history of long ago. It is not enough to have been converted. It is not enough to have had the adoption of the Father. It is not enough to have entered the spiritual family of Christ. It is not enough that even Jesus revealed Himself in us. Thousands of false hopes are built on these past events, which, divinely wrought as they may have been, have ceased to possess any vital connexion with the life and character of to-day. Such a religion is a religion of memory, destined to be turned in the presence of the Throne to unmixed remorse. But how, and in what, are we to grow? In manner and in substance like our Lord. Jesus grew in strength and stature, in wisdom and in grace--the grace of God was upon Him. _In spiritual strength and stature_; that is, from the timid babe to the bold and valiant soldier; in the power to do the things we ought to do, in the ability to obey the inward voice. It is by the exercise of the muscles and tendons of the babe that the bodily frame is fitted for the rush and struggle of life. It is by the A B C of the infant class that the mind is fitted to comprehend and appreciate the duties and obligations of political, social, physical, and family relationships. It is by the humble wail of the penitent, and the daily acts of loving help, that the soul learns to soar on eagles' wings, and shout the truth that God is gracious, and to brave difficulty and danger in His service. They go from strength to strength. Are you so journeying? _In wisdom_. Wisdom is a thing of the heart more than of the brain, and the wisdom of God is really a revelation of the love of God. To be "wise unto salvation" is to learn the lesson of love. To be "wise to win souls" is first to love souls. To feel that "it is more blessed to give than to receive," is the fruit of love. How different this from the calculating wisdom of this world! Dear comrade and friend, are you taking care that the Divine Life in you shall grow after this Christ-like fashion? When I hear Christian people say: "Oh, I have so little love, so little faith, so little joy," I generally find that it is so because they stifle and quench the blessed yearnings of the Divine Spirit to seek the souls of others; because they leave unanswered the urgings and promptings of duty which God in their conscience is demanding; because they neglect prayer, and self-denial, and heart-searching, and the Word of God; because, in short, they starve the Child. What wonder if love and faith are feeble, and joy is like to die! "And the grace of God was upon Him." Here was the promise of that entire sacrifice for men which culminated when a man cried out to Him on the cross: "_He saved others; Himself He cannot save_." It is ever thus that God repeats Himself. When we are ready to be offered up for the blessing and saving of others, then grace will come upon us for the struggle as it came upon Him. When Christ formed in us finds free course for all His mind and all His passion; when our eyes are opened to the great purposes of His life in the salvation of the whole world; and when we hear, through Him, the cry of those for whom He was born, and for whom He died, God will pour out on us grace to send us forth--grace sufficient, grace abundant, grace triumphant. Have you come to this? Can you say He is thus dwelling in you, and working in you, to will and to do of His good pleasure? Do not turn away with the paralysing fear that it cannot be; that the life of Jesus can never be lived out again in flesh and blood. Remember, He is "_the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever_." All He was in Bethlehem, to Mary and Joseph; all He was to His work-mates at Nazareth; all He was in the wilderness, fighting with fiends, in the deserts feeding the hungry, or among the multitude--healing the sick, blessing the little children, casting out devils, and preaching the Kingdom; all He was in Bethany, weeping over Lazarus, and crying, "Lazarus, come forth"; in the garden of His agony, in the darkness of His cross, in the hour of His Resurrection, all this--all--all--all--He is to-day. _He belongs to the everlasting Now_. All He was to the martyrs who died for His Name, all He has been to our fathers, He is to us, and will be to our children, for with Him is no variableness nor shadow of turning. Yes! This unchanging Christ "_is in us, except we be reprobate_," the Life and Image of God, and the Hope of Glory. V. The Secret of His Rule. "_For we have not an High Priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin_."--Heb. iv. 15. We hail the Christmas season as the anniversary of our King's birth. Our eyes turn to the manger, and our hearts to Mary, for a thousand and one reasons, but the chiefest is that Jesus was born in Bethlehem as the Divine Son and the Royal Branch. Although we know that many shadows darken the way of the Cross, and that it is roughened by many thorns and agonies, many dark descents and weary struggles, we have always the assurance that at the end, and at the right time, there will be a crown and a throne. Standing at the manger, and looking over the hills of hatred and suffering, we can already see the great white Throne. From the wilderness of the Temptation we can even catch a glimpse of the marriage supper of the Lamb. In the darkness around the cross, we have visions of a great multitude, which no man can number, casting their crowns at the feet of the Crucified. Written large on all the life of Jesus there is, in fact, the witness that He will triumph. We know and feel it. It is revealed even when it is not stated. It is assured even when not promised. But I do not think that it is by virtue of this that Jesus Christ has exerted His greatest influence on the hearts of men. To be a king, to be in the royal line, is a great thing; and to be the Divine King is infinitely greater. To be a king, however, is one thing; to be a ruler is often quite another. The right descent, the royal birth, the due recognition, the ultimate taking possession of the throne, are enough to make the king, but far from enough to make the ruler. Principles, of course, there are, very important and far-reaching, involved in any sort of kingship. We have all heard of "the divine right of kings." We all see--even if we cannot understand it--the love of peoples for a king. Even when the heads of states are called by some other name than king, the fact of kingship is still there. All this denotes the working of great principles, having their roots in the deepest feelings of the human race. But I repeat, that to rule is quite another thing than to be a king. History abounds with examples of great monarchs who have not ruled, and of true rulers who have had no royal blood and no kingly throne. And just as there are facts in human experience which have made kings necessary and possible, so are there principles by which alone it is possible to rule. The kingship and rule of Jesus Christ our Lord was no exception. It is not my purpose to dwell here on the great and unchanging demands of the human soul which make His sovereignty a necessity of our well-being alike as citizens, and as individuals of His world. Unless the Lord is King, all must be confusion, dissonance, and disaster. The supreme fact in human life after all is, that our God is "the creator, preserver, and governor of all things." But what of His rule? There another principle comes into operation. On what is His _rule_ based? By what agency does He extend His _authority_ until it becomes _control_? And here it must be remembered that He aspires to rule men's hearts. His kingdom is moral and spiritual first, and then physical and material. That is why it will endure for ever. It is in the region of motive and affection, of reason and emotion, of preference and choice, that He designs to be Ruler. It is to reign in men's hearts that Christ laid aside His heavenly crown and throne. If He cannot be a Ruler there, then He will account little of His kingship in the skies. By what, then, does He rule? _Is it not by His compassion_? Has not that been the chief influence which has drawn men to Him, and held them in His service? Just think for a moment of one or two commonplace facts. I. _The Children_. At least three-fourths of the human family are always little children. To what does He owe the influence He exercises in the minds and hearts of multitudes of these little ones? His exalted throne? His royal lineage? His majesty? No; I think not to these, but to the revelation of His pity, His sympathy, His patience, His sweet, forgiving grace, His tender compassion as a Saviour. To them He is the "Friend above all others"--the Lowly One, the "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild." Viewing Him thus, they confess to Him in sin, they fly to Him in sorrow. His creative power, His everlasting habitations, His throne of unapproachable glory, His glorious and terrible judgments, are little more to the children than words and phrases--may I not say?--at best but the "trappings" of His person. They solemnise, they inspire, perhaps, with reverent fear; but they do not, they could not, secure that true ascendency over the nature of the child by which alone there can be real control and true rulership. II. _The Sorrowful_. Sorrow is the most common of all human experiences. There are no homes without it, and there are very few hearts which have not tasted of its cup. Earth is a vale of tears. Sooner or later, all men suffer. "Man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward," and to millions of men Christ has appeared in their affliction and taken possession of their lives. What was the secret of His influence over them? Was it His dominion from sea to sea? Was it even His victory over death and His kingly conquest of the grave? Was it His sovereign throne of power? No, I do not think it was thus He won them; but as "the Man of Sorrows and acquainted with grief," who learned obedience by the things that He suffered, and who could compassionate with them in their sorrows also. It is one of the commonplaces of life that people associated in great suffering and trials obtain great influence with each other. And it is so here. Let the human heart once realise that in its deepest depths of sorrow it may have for helper One who has been deeper still; and it is in the nature of things that it should fly to that One for succour, for sympathy, for strength. And when that One out of His riches gives of His own might, and of His own sweet, unfathomed consolations, then His government is assured, His rule is established. III. _The Tempted_. Did I say that sorrow was the commonest of all human experiences? Ought I not to have said _temptation_? We all know the reality of temptation: its biting wounds, its power to assail, to harass, to irritate, to worry; its appeals to the senses, the animal in us; its assault of our confidence; its liberty to terrorise and to torment. Yes, every man is tempted. How shall he withstand temptation? What is it in Jesus Christ that calls the sorely-tempted one to Him? Is it His divine purity, His kingly holiness, His might as the supreme Sovereign whose law is good? No; I think that only those who have learned to love Him will love His law. Is it not rather the wonderful pity of Him of whom it is written, "We have a great High Priest, . . . touched with the feeling of our infirmities, . . . in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin"? _Touched with the feeling of our infirmities_. There is the attraction of a supreme compassion for the tempted. There is the means by which the King of Righteousness becomes also the Ruler over tempted and sinful men. I can add but one other word now. If it is only by His continual compassion that our Master obtains and maintains His rule, will it not be by a similar means that we may hope to bless and influence the souls of men? Yes; that has been already the great lesson of The Salvation Army. It is founded on sympathy, on a universal compassion. The moment we turn away from that, and rely merely on our system, or on methods, or our teaching, we cease just in that proportion to be true Salvationists. We aspire to rule men's hearts. We care nothing for the position of a church or sect; we care everything for a real control over the souls and conduct of living men and women, that we may lead them to God and use them for His glory. It is by tenderness we shall win it. By seeking them in their sorrows and sins; by making them feel our true heart-hunger over them, our true love, our entire union with the Christ in His compassion for them. And the same principle will hold good in training those whom we have already won. This was, no doubt, the secret of Paul's great influence with his people. His whole heart was theirs; and they knew it. "We were gentle among you," he says, "even as a nurse cherisheth her children; so, being affectionately desirous of you, we were willing to have imparted unto you, not the Gospel of God only, but also our own souls, because ye were dear unto us." We know his courage, his lofty standard, his splendid impatience of shams, his tenacity of the truth, his contempt for danger, his daring unto death; and yet he can say of himself that, with it all, he was gentle among them as a nurse cherishing her children--ready to give up his very soul for them. Ah, Colonel, Captain, Sergeant, leaders all, whatever name you bear, do you want to lead and rule the people whom God has given you as a charge? Then here is the true secret of power--be for ever pouring out your heart's deepest, tenderest love for them, and most of all for the weak and the most unworthy and sinful amongst them. Do this, and you will not merely be walking after Paul--you will be walking _with_ Christ. VI. A Neglected Saviour. "_And He came and found them asleep again: for their eyes were heavy_."--Matt. xxvi. 43. I. There are few more instructive or more touching things in the life of our Lord Jesus Christ than His evident appreciation of human sympathy. Whether we observe Him at the marriage feast, or in the fishing-boat, or on the Mount of Olives, or when spending a time apart with His disciples, or in the Garden of His Agony, this appreciation expresses itself quite naturally and consistently. The Son of Man, though one with the Father, yet found joy and comfort in the society of men. What we call "companionship" had real charms for Him. It helped to draw Him out to the hungerings and thirstings of men; it assisted in revealing to Him the facts of human sin, and the needs of the human soul. Thus it enabled Him more perfectly to be our living example, as well as the propitiation for our sins. And as He valued the consolations arising from human friendship and love, so also He had to suffer the loss of them, in order that He might carry out His great work for God and man. For His work's sake, His soul was required to pass through the agony of losing every human consolation. Many were His moments of bitterness. The world proved itself to be, what it still remains, a cold-hearted affair; His own, to whom He came, received Him not. But the bitterest sorrow which can come to a leader was added to His cup, when He witnessed the failure of His trusted disciples in the hour of trial, and when He realised that their unfaithfulness was towards Himself as a person, as well as to the great mission to which He had consecrated both Himself and them. Now, when we are called upon to suffer in the same way, may we not be brought into very intimate fellowship with Jesus? Shall we complain because the servant is not above his Lord? Shall we doubt His love, and care, and power, because He does not always shield us from that same blast of loneliness which swept over His own soul in the Garden, when for the second, aye, and for the third time, He found His three disciples asleep? II. Sad as it is, it is none the less certain that we, too, must expect some in whom we have trusted to fail us in that hour when we most need them, be it the hour of supreme temptation, or of great opportunity, or of deep sorrow for the Kingdom's sake. It was precisely this which happened to our Lord. It is bad to be so dependent on men--even on the most beautiful, or most perfect souls--that we cannot fight on without them. The dependence of love must work hand in hand with the independence of faith, if we are to take our share in this trial of our Master and to profit by it. Those who thus fail us will, perchance, be the very persons upon whom we have most reason to rely, and whom in some sore trial of our faith or moment of danger, we have specially called upon for defence and prayer, for strength and sympathy, as did our Lord in the case of these disciples. Until now, Peter had been a valiant, not to say, reckless follower of Jesus; while all, John especially, had been well beloved and tenderly watched over by Him. And yet this woeful sleep deadens them to it all. Even for one short hour they cannot watch with Him. III. But such failure on the part of those who were loved and trusted will add immensely to the burden of the battle that we are fighting for God and the souls of men. It did so even to Jesus. Nothing more pathetic, more deeply heart-moving, is written in all God's Book, than this simple picture of the Man of Sorrows--struggling for the life of the human race, absolutely bereft of human aid--coming in the midst of His dark conflict to seek the touch of sympathy, a hand-grasp, a word, a look from those His well-loved followers, only to find them asleep in the gloom. Retracing His steps, He casts Himself on the ground, and cries, "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me." Am I wrong in saying that it was an added ingredient of bitterness in that cup to find that these, His trusted ones, could only sleep, while He must go forward to suffer? But their failure did not stop Him. No, not for one moment. There was agony in His heart, there were death shadows around Him, and bloody sweat upon His brow, but He did not waver. He went right on to finish the work He had promised to do. Gladly would He have had them with Him; steadfastly He goes forward without them! Here also is a lesson for you and for me. _The work is more than the worker_. And in times when we must lose, for our work's sake, that which we count dearer to us than our lives, when the iron of disappointed love enters our souls, as it entered His, we must follow Him, and go forward, steadfastly forward. IV. And after all, the failure of the disciples was very human. Their eyes were heavy. They were weary and sore tired. This, too, is typical of many of the losses we Salvationists are called upon to suffer. Some on whom we have relied and trusted grow weary in well-doing. The strain is so great! The tax on brain and heart and hand is so constant! Life becomes so burdened with watchings and prayings and sufferings for and with others, that there is little, if any, time or strength left for oneself! And so they cannot keep up, but seek rest and quiet for themselves elsewhere. They are heavy, and no longer feel the need to watch with us. Dear comrade, in your like trial do not doubt that the Lord Jesus is with you. Suffering of this kind will help to liken you to Him--it is a very real bearing of the Cross of Christ. Pitiful followers of Him should we be, if we wished to have only joy when He had only suffering. V. But the disciples' strange failure did not call forth one word of bitterness from our Lord's lips. A gentle reproach was certainly implied in the words, "Could ye not watch with Me one hour?" but no shade of personal displeasure expressed itself, much as the occasion might seem to warrant it. No! Jesus knew the failures begotten of human weakness, as well as the horror of human sin. And so He made allowances, and was as patient with those who left Him, as He was tender to those who were steadfast. He loved them both. Go thou, and do likewise. In your home; in your family circle; in your Corps; in your office; in your work, be it what it may; when men fail and forsake your Lord; even if all disappoint and desert you, _you must love them still_. Be faithful with them; but, above all, be steadfast in your own purpose, and devote all your zeal and strength to finish the work that God has given you to do. In short, go forward without them; but let your words, and thoughts, and prayers for them be like your Master's. And Jesus utters no word of complaint about this failure. The silence all through that great anguish is indeed very wonderful. Abandoned by man, He abandoned Himself all the more earnestly to His work for men without a murmur. And abandoned by God--as for a little time it seemed--He all the more completely abandoned Himself to God. To have fellowship with Him, you and I will have to walk the same path, and mind the same rule. When friends, or followers, or comrades trample upon the solemn covenants made alike to us and to God, and forsake, and leave us to finish our work and tread our winepress alone, let there be no moaning because of the pain it inflicts. When those upon whom we had a right--right by reason of natural law, or right by reason of the obligations and precious vows of friendship, or right on the ground of spiritual indebtedness--when those, I say, upon whom we had a right to depend fail us, let there be no complaining of their treatment because it is painful to us. Let there be no filling of the earth with laments and wailings, no accusing of our accusers, no reviling of those who revile us. Let us be silent in the patience of Jesus and in the strength of His love, and let His way of meeting the loneliness of desertion be our way--let us pray. But all the same, that sleep, that failure to respond to the personal claim of Jesus, was a sure forerunner of the cowardly flight, and the deadly denial which followed it. The seeds of Peter's lies and curses were sown in the selfishness and slumber of the garden; they came to maturity in the kitchen of the judgment hall. Poor Peter! How many hours of bitter self-reproach would you have been spared, had you but held out during that one brief hour of your watch in Gethsemane! How differently we could have regarded your poor wobbling nature! How differently, too, your Lord's great trial would have come to Him! How different might have been the history of mankind! VI. The method of love which Jesus adopted towards the forsakers received the sanction of success, _for they all came back_. In spite of their shame and their fears, they returned to their allegiance, with, I think, much more than their old faith and love. Judas was the only exception, and even he sought a place of repentance, and, but for his horrid league with the jealous and cruel religionists, would, I think, have found one. You see the lesson? If you go on with your work for God, and finish it, paying no heed to those who, having put their hand to the plough, look back; and if, in spite of your sorrow, you will struggle steadily forward in the face of the coldness and carelessness of those between whom and you there was once the tenderest love, God will not only carry you through your appointed labour for the world, but He will restore many of those others to their allegiance to Him and His. Will they ever be quite the same? Will they not have lost something? Yes, they will indeed have lost; but, if they come back, in reality they will gain more. The new union will be more divine than the former one. They will not merely . . . rise on stepping stones Of their dead selves to higher things; but the beauty, and excellence, and glory of love, the exceeding profitableness of enduring grace, and the sweet aroma of faithfulness, will be the more clearly manifest to the sons of men by reason of the weakness and breakableness of the human vessel. Let us, then, press forward, without one backward glance, until we finish our work. Let us thank God for those who are faithful; let us love and pray for those who fail, expecting to see them restored, healed, and purified. VII. Windows in Calvary. "_And they crucified Him . . . And sitting down they watched Him there_."--MATT, xxvii. 35, 36. Passing words spoken in times of deep emotion often reveal human character more vividly than a lifetime of talk under ordinary circumstances. Conduct which at other times is of the most trifling significance, reveals in the hour of fiery trial, the very inwards of the soul, even making manifest that which has been hidden, perhaps, for a generation. Thus, while watching a man with the opportunity and the temptation to deceive or oppress those who are in his power, you may see into the very thoughts of his heart; you may learn what he really is. Or you may measure the depths of a mother's love in observing her when, after violating every principle she has valued and lived for, her prodigal boy comes to ask her to take him in once more. In the same way, words spoken by the dying are often like windows suddenly uncovered, through which one may catch a glimpse of the ruling passion of life, in the light of which their life-witness and life-labour alike look different. It is this fact which often gives the dying hour of the meanest, importance as well as solemnity. The veriest trifler that ever trifled through this vale of tears has, in that last solemn hour something to teach of the secrets of mortality. And this revelation of the real facts of human experience is of the highest value to the world. It is one of God's witnesses to truth, _that truth will out_. Sooner or later, selfishness and sin will _appear_ in their naked deformity, to horrify those who behold them; and in the end, justice and truth and love are certain to be made manifest in their natural beauty, to convince and to charm and to attract their beholders. It is not only one of the uses of trial to bring this about, but it is one of the means by which God converts to His own high purposes, the miseries and sorrows the Devil has brought in. The one burns the martyrs; the other brings out of that cruel and frightful wrong the glorious testimony which is the very seed of His Church. The one casts us into fiery dispensations of suffering and loss; the other takes these moments of human anguish and desolation, and makes of them open windows through which a doubting or scoffing world may see what love can do. Thus He makes us to triumph In the midst of our foes, while working in us a likeness to Himself, the All-patient and All-perfect God. Nor is it the good and true alone who are thus made object-lessons to others, and to themselves, by these ordeals of pain. By them, many a bad man also is forced to appear bad to himself. Many a hypocrite, anxious about the opinions and the traditions of men, is at last stripped of his lies to see himself the wretched fraud he really is. Many a heart-backslider, whose religion has long ceased to be anything but a memory, awakes to the shame of it and to the danger; and often, thank God, awakes in time. Now, the words of the dying Christ on His cross are, in the same way, a true and wonderful revelation of His character and His spirit. As it is only by the light of the sun that we see the sun, so it is by Jesus that Jesus is best revealed. Never one spake like He spake; and yet in this respect, so real was His humanity, He spake like us all--He spake out what was in Him. _The Truth_ must, above all, and before all, make manifest what is true of Himself. To whom, then, did our Lord speak on the tree, and what spake He? What special thoughts and beauties of His soul do His words reveal? Jesus, so far as His words have been recorded for us, spoke from the cross to Mary His mother, to one of the thieves who was crucified with Him, to God His Father, and to Himself. I. _His Words to Mary_. "_When Jesus therefore saw His mother, and the disciple standing by, whom He loved, He saith unto His mother, Woman, behold thy son! Then saith He to the disciple, Behold thy mother_!" The position of Mary in those last hours was peculiarly grievous. She had lived to see the breaking down of every hope that a mother's heart could cherish for her son. Standing there amidst that mob of relentless enemies, and watching Jesus, forsaken by God and man in His mortal agony, her present sorrow, great as it was, was crowned by the memory of the holy and happy anticipations of His birth, and the maiden exultations of her soul when the angels foretold that her Son should be the Saviour of His people and their King. How cruelly different the reality had turned out! How far, how very far away, would seem to her the quiet days in Nazareth, the rapture of her Son's first innocent embraces, and the evening communions with Him as He grew in years! What tender memories the sight of those dear bleeding feet, those outstretched, wounded hands, would recall to that mother's heart! Yes, Mary on Calvary is to me a world-picture of desolate, withering, and helpless grief--of pain increased by love, and of love intensified by pain! And Jesus in His great agony--the Man of Sorrows come at last to the winepress that His heart might be broken in treading it alone; come to the hour of His travail; come to the supreme agony of the sin-offering; face to face with the wrath of the Judge, blackness and tempest and anguish blotting out for the moment even the face of the Father--forsaken at last--FORSAKEN--Jesus, in this depth of midnight darkness sees her standing by the cross. Bless Him, Oh, ye that weep and mourn in this vale of tears! Bless Him for ever! His eyes are eyes for the sorrowful. _He sees them_. He has tears to shed with them. He is touched with the same feelings and moved by the same griefs. He sees Mary, and speaks to her, and in a word gives her to John, and John to her, for mutual care and love. It was as though He said, "Mother, you bare Me; you watched and suffered for Me, and in this redeeming agony of My love, I remember your anguish, and I take you for ever under My care, and I name you Mine." Surely, there never was sorrow like unto His sorrow, and yet in its darkest crisis He has eyes and heart for this one other's sorrow. Far from Him, as the east from the west, is any of that selfish thought and selfish seclusion which grief and pain so often work in the unsanctified heart, aye, and in the best of us. What a lesson of practical love it is! What a message--especially to those who are called to suffer with Him for the souls of men--comes streaming from those words spoken to Mary. The burden of the people's needs, the care of the Church, the awful responsibility of ministering to souls--these things, sacred as they may be, cannot excuse us in neglecting the hungry hearts of our own flesh and blood, or in forgetting the claims of those of our own household. Dear friend and comrade, in _your_ sorrow, in your sore trial of faith, in _your_ Calvary, take to your heart this revelation of the heart of the Son of Man, and be careful of the solitary and heart-bleeding ones near you, no matter how humble and how unworthy they may seem. II. _His Words to the Thief_. "_And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To-day shall thou be with Me in Paradise_." The crucifixion of the two robbers with Jesus was a sort of topstone of obloquy and disgrace contrived by His murderers with the double object of further humiliating Him in the eyes of the people, and of adding poignancy to His own agony. The vulgarity and shamefulness of it were the last touch of their contempt, and the last stroke of His humiliation. There was a kind of devilish ingenuity in this circumstantial way of branding Him as a malefactor. And yet in the presence of this extremity of human wickedness and cruelty, Jesus found an opportunity of working a wondrous work of God; a work which reveals Him as the Saviour, strong to save, both by His infinite mercy and by His infinite confidence in the efficacy of His own sacrifice. "_To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise_." Eyes and heart for the _sorrowful_ He had, as we see; and now ears, and hope nigh at hand, for the _sinful_. No word of resentment; no sense of distance or separation between the spotlessness and perfection of His character and this poor lonely convict--but a strange and wonderful nearness, now and to come. "_With Me_," He says--"_With Me in Paradise_." Ah! this is the secret of much in the life of the Son of God--this intimate, constant, conscious nearness to sinners and to sin! He had sounded the depth of evil, and, knowing it, He pitied, with an infinite compassion, its victims; He got as near as He could to them in their misery, and died to save them from it. That heart-nearness to the thief had nothing to do with the nearness of the crosses. Every one knows what a gulf may be between people who are very near together--father and son--husband and wife! No, it was the nearness of a heart deliberately trained to seek it; a heart delighting in mercy, and deliberately surrendering all other delights for it; hungering and thirsting for the love of the lost and ruined. The hart panteth after the waters, The dying for life that departs, The Lord in His glory for sinners For the love of rebellious hearts. And so He is quite ready, at once, to share His heaven with this poor defiled creature, the first trophy of the cross. Again--what a lesson of love!--how different, all this, from the common inclination to shrink away from contact and intercourse with the vile! Oh, shame, that there can ever have been such a shrinking in our poor guilty hearts! The servant is not above his Lord. He came to sinners. Let us go to them with Him! III. _His Words to the Father_. "_Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do_." This prayer for His murderers is a revelation of the wonderful nearness and capacity of love. The Saviour passes from pole to pole of human ken, to find a ground on which He can plead for the forgiveness of those cruel and wicked men; and He finds it in their ignorance of the stupendousness of their sin against Him. It seems as though He chooses to remain in ignorance of what they did know, and to dwell only on what they did not. "They know not what they do!" It was ever so with Him! He has no pleasure in iniquity. Wrong-doers are so precious to Him that He never will magnify or exaggerate their wrong--no, not a hair's breadth. He will not dwell on it--no, not a moment, except to plead some reasonable ground for its pardon, such as this--the ignorance of the wrong-doer, or the rich efficacy of His sacrifice. He will only name sin to the Father, in order that He may confess it for the sinner, and intercede for mercy and for grace. This is the old and ever new way of dealing with injuries, especially "personal injuries." _Is it yours_? Are you seeking thus after reasons for making the wrong done to you appear pardonable? Is your first response to an affront or insult or slander, or to some still greater wrong, to pray the Father for those whom you believe to be injuring you, that His gracious gift of forgiveness may come upon them? That is the principle of Calvary. That is the spirit, the mind of Christ. That is the way in which He won the meed and crown: Trod all His foes beneath His feet, By being trodden down. "_Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit_." Death has always been held to afford a final test of faith, and here the human soul of Jesus passed through that mortal struggle which awaits us all when heart and flesh shall fail. "_Into Thy hands_"--that is enough. As He passes the threshold of the unknown--goes as we must--into the Valley of the Shadow, faith springs forth and exclaims, "Into Thy hands." All shall be well. In this confidence I have laboured; in this confidence I die; in this confidence I shall live before Thee. IV. _To Himself_. "_It is finished_!" Thus in His last, ever-wonderful words Jesus pronounces Himself the sentence of His own heart upon His own work. _It is completed._ Every barrier is broken down, every battle is fought, every hellish dart has flown, every wilderness is past, every drop of the cup of anguish has been drunk up, and, with a note of victorious confidence, He cries out, "It is finished!" Looking back from the cross on all His life in the light of these words, we see how He regarded it as an opportunity for accomplishing a great duty, and for the fulfilment of a mission. Now, He says, "The duty is done--the mission is fulfilled; the work is finished!" Truly, it is a lofty, a noble, yea, a godlike view of life! Is it ours? Death will come to us. "The living know that they shall die." The waters will overflow, and the foundations will be broken up, and every precious thing will grow dim, and our life, also, will have passed. We shall then have to say of something, "_It is finished_!" It will be too late to alter it. "There is no man that hath power in the day of death." _What, then, shall it be that is finished_? A life of selfish ease, or a life of following the Son of Man? A life of sinful gratification, of careful thought of ourselves, unprofitable from beginning to end, or a life of generous devotion to the things which are immortal in the honour of God and the salvation of men? VIII. The Burial of Jesus. Good Friday Fragments. "_And after this Joseph of Arimathoea, being a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews, besought Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus: and Pilate gave him leave. He came therefore, and took the body of Jesus. And there came also Nicodemus, which at the first came to Jesus by night, and brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about an hundred pound weight. Then took they the body of Jesus, and wound it in linen clothes with the spices, as the manner of the Jews is to bury. Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid. There laid they Jesus therefore, because of the Jews' preparation day; for the sepulchre was nigh at hand_."--John xix. 38-42. Death has many voices. This death and burial speak aloud in tones of triumph. It as a death that made an end of death, and a burial that buried the grave. And yet it was also a very humble and painful and sad affair. We must not forget the humiliation and poverty and shame written on every circumstance any more than the victory, if we would learn by it all that God designed to teach. I "_He tasted Death_." To many, even among those who have been freed from guilty fear, mortality itself still has terrors. By Divine grace they can lift up their hearts in sure and certain hope of a glorious resurrection, and yet they shrink with painful apprehension at the thought of the change which alone can make that resurrection possible. There is probably no instinct of the whole human family more frequently in evidence than this repulsion for the grave. Death is such an uncouth and hideous thing. Nothing but bones The sad effect of sadder groans; Its mouth is open, but it cannot sing. All its outward circumstances help to repel us--the shroud, the coffin, the grave, the silent shadows, the still more silent worms, the final nothingness. The mental conditions, too, generally common to the last acts of life, tend to intensify the feeling: the separation from much that we love, the sense of unfinished work, the appreciation of grief which death most usually brings to others: the reality of disappointed hopes, the feeling that heart and flesh fail, and that we can do no more--all these tend to make it in very truth the great valley of the dark shadow. To many, even among the chosen spirits of the household of faith, approaching death also starts the great "_Why_?" of unbelief. For, in truth, the death of some is a mystery. It is better that we should say so, and that they should say so, rather than that we should profess to be able to account for what, as is only too evident, we do not understand. In confronting death this mystery is often the great bitterness in the cup. To die when so young! To die when so much needed! To die so soon after really beginning to live! To die in the presence of so great a task! Oh, why should it be? How much of gloom and shadow has come down on hearts and households I have known, from the persistency of that "Why?" intensifying every repulsion for the hideous visitor, adding to every other the greatest of all his terrors--_doubt_. Now, in the presence of such doubts--or perhaps I ought rather to call them questionings and shrinkings--has not this vision of the dead body of our Lord something in it to charm away our fears? Does it not say to us: "I have passed on before; I that speak in righteousness, Mighty to save. I have trodden the winepress alone. At My girdle hang the keys of life and death; I, even I, was dead; yes, really, cruelly dead; but I am alive for evermore"? _He tasted death_. The king of terrors was out to meet Him. The long shadows of the gloomy valley really closed Him round, and He crossed over the chilly stream just as you and I must cross it--all alone. Nothing was wanting which could invest the scene, the hour, the circumstances with horror and repulsion. There was pain, bodily pain; there was mental anguish; there was the howling mob, the horrid contempt for Him as for a malefactor; the lost disciples and shattered hopes; the reviling thief; the mystery of the Father's clouded face; the final sinking down; the letting go of life; the last physical struggle--when He gave up the ghost and died. Yes. He passed this same way before you. He wore a shroud. He lay in a grave. The last resting-place is henceforth for us fragrant with immortality. The very horrors, and shadows, and mysteries of the death-chamber have become signs that death is vanquished. The tomb is but the porch of a temple in which we shall surely stand, the doorway to the place of an abiding rest. "In My Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you." Living or dying--but especially when dying--we have a right to cry with Stephen, the first to witness for Christ in this horror of death, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." To Him we commit all. He passed this way before with a worn and bruised body, in weakness and contempt, with dyed garments and red in His apparel, and on Him we dare to cast ourselves--on Him and Him alone. On His merits, on His blood, on His body, dead and buried for us. He will be with us even to the end--_He has passed this way before us_. II. "_A Savour of Death unto Death._" A celebrated Roman Emperor who had in the very height of his power embarked on a campaign for the extermination, with all manner of cruelties, of the followers of Jesus Christ, spoke one day to a Christian, asking him in tones of lofty contempt and derision:-- "What, then, is the Galilean doing now?" "_The Galilean_," replied the Christian, "_is making a coffin_!" In a few years the great Emperor and the vast power he represented were both in that coffin! Since his day, how many other persecutors have also journeyed surely to it! How many infidels--nay, how many systems of infidelity, have passed on to dust and oblivion in that same casket! What multitudes of doubters--of ungodly, unclean, unregenerate--have been laid within its ever-widening bands! What vast unions of darkness, hatred, and cruelty, under the leadership of the great and the mighty, have been broken to pieces beside that coffin! How much that seemed for a time proud and rich and great in this poor world's esteem, has at last passed into it, and disappeared for ever! Yes, the martyr of long ago, on the blood-besmeared stones of persecuting Rome, was right, the Galilean Saviour and King not only made a Cross, but He made, and He goes on making, a coffin! Will _you_ not have His Cross? Is there no appeal to you to-day from that hill side, without the city wall? Does it not speak to _you_ of the power, the sweetness and nobleness of a life of service, of sacrifice for others, of toil for His world. Has it no message for _you_ of victory over sin and death, of life from the dead--life, abundant life, in the Blood of the Son of Man! Believe me, unless you accept His Cross, He will prepare for you a coffin. "The _wages_ of sin is death." It matters not how noble your aspirations, how lofty your ideals of life and conduct, how faithful your labour to raise the standard of your own life--unless you accept the Cross, all must go into the grave. Your highest aims, together with your lowest, your most cherished conceptions, your most deeply-loved ambitions, all must be entombed. "Whosoever shall fall on this stone shall be broken, but on whomsoever it shall fall it will grind him to powder." If His death-sacrifice be not a savour of life unto life it must be a savour of death unto death. This is the single alternative. Jesus Christ in life and death is working in you, in us all, toward one of these ends--either by love and tears and the overflowing fountain of His passion to gather us into the union of eternal life with Him and with the Father; or to entomb us--all that we have and all that we are--in the death and oblivion of the grave He has prepared. III. "_And He was Buried_." For a little time they lost Him. The grave opened her gloomy portals; they laid Him down, and the gates were closed--for a little time. And yet He was just as really there, as really alive for evermore, as really theirs and ours, as really a victor--nay, a thousand times more so, than if He had never bowed Himself under the yoke of Nature. He was gone on before, just a little while, that was all. Is not that the lesson of His burial for every one who sorrows for the loss of loved ones called up higher? Are they not buried with Him? Are they not gone on before? Are they not ours still? Are we not theirs as really as ever? He passed through that brief path of darkness and death out into the everlasting light of the Resurrection Glory. Do you think, then, that He will leave them behind? The grave could not contain _Him_. Do you think it has strength to hold _them_? You cannot think of Him as lying long in the garden of Joseph of Arimathaea; why, then, should you think of your dear ones as in the chilly clay of that poor garden in which you laid them? No--no! they are alive--alive for evermore; because He lives, they live also. Yes! this was the meaning of that strange funeral of His--this was at least one reason why they buried Him. It was that He might hold a flaming torch of comfort at every burial of His people to the end of time. Sorrow not, then, as those that have no hope. He is hope. Your lost ones, perhaps, were strongly rooted in your affection, and your heart was torn when they were plucked up. You cried aloud with the Prophet: "Woe is me, for my hurt! my wound is grievous. But I said, Truly this is a grief, and I must bear it; my tabernacle is spoiled, and all my cords are broken." Ah, but remember He was buried also. He knows about the way. He was there. He has them in His keeping. They are His, and yours still. You have no more need to grieve over their burial than over His. They live, they love, they grow, they rejoice. They are blessed for evermore. And our dear dead will meet us again, if we are faithful, in those bodies which our Lord has redeemed. That also is the witness of His burial and resurrection. The corruptible shall put on incorruption. In the twinkling of an eye shall it be done. And we shall see them in the body once more, even as His disciples saw Him. They supposed at first that they saw a spirit, but He said: No! "Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself: handle Me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see Me have!" This blessed hope is our hope. Love is indeed stronger than death; many waters, nay, the swellings of Jordan themselves, cannot quench it! Dear ones, gone on before, we shall embrace you again; hand in hand--the very same hands--we shall greet our King:-- Together we'll stand When escaped to the shore, With palms in our hands We Will praise Him the more; We'll range the sweet plains On the banks of the river, And sing of Salvation For ever and ever. Yes--we know and love you still, because we know and love our Lord. IX. Conforming to Christ's Death. "_That I may know Him . . . being made conformable unto His death_."--Phil. iii. 10. "_Conformable unto His death_." At first sight the words are something of a surprise. "_His death?_" Has not the thought more often before us been to conform to _His life_? His death seems "too high for us"--so far off in its greatness, in its suffering, in its humiliation, in its strength, in its glorious consequences. How is it possible we should ever be conformed to such a wonder of love and power? And yet, here is the great Apostle, in one of those beautiful and illuminating references to his own experience which always seem to bring his messages right home to us, setting forth this very conformity as the end of all his labours, and the purpose in all his struggles. "What things were gain to me," he says, "those I counted loss for Christ; yea, I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in Him*, having . . . the righteousness which is of God by faith: that I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, _being made conformable unto His death_." [Footnote *: Or, as the Revised Version has it in the margin, "not having as my righteousness that which springs from the law; but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is of God on the condition of faith: . . . becoming conformed unto His death."] There are probably deeps of thought and purpose here which I confess that I cannot hope to fathom; which in the limits of such a paper as this I cannot even suggest. Is it possible, for example, that the sorrow and suffering which fall upon those who are entirely surrendered to God and His work are, in some hidden way, sorrow and suffering for others? Is this what Paul means when he says in his letter to the Colossians: I "fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ, in my flesh, for His body's sake, which is the Church"? It may be so. This would indeed be a glorious and a wonderful "_fellowship of His sufferings_." Or, again, consider what an entirely new light might be thrown upon God's dealings with us in afflictions and pain, if it should appear, in the world to come, that, in much which is now most mysterious and torturing to us, we had but been bearing one another's burdens! Every one knows how often love makes us long to bear grief and pain for those dear to us; every one has seen a mother suffer, in grateful silence, both bodily pain and heart-anguish, in her child's stead, preferring that the child should never know. Suppose it should turn out, hereafter, that many of the afflictions which now seem so perplexing and so grievous have really been given us to bear in order to spare and shield our loved ones, and make it easier for them--tossing on the stormy waters--to reach Home at last? Would not this add a whole world of joy to the glory which shall be revealed? And would it not transform many of the darkest stretches of our earthly journey into bright memorials of the infinite wisdom and goodness of our God? But I pass away from matters of which we have, at best, but a gleam, to those concerning which "he that runs may read." But if Christ upon His cross is meant for an object-lesson to His people, is it not reasonable to expect that His words spoken in those supreme moments should throw light upon that conformity to His death of which we are thinking? The words of the dying have always been received as revealing their true character. Death is the skeleton-key which opens the closed chambers of the soul, and calls forth the secret things--and in the presence of the "Death-Angel" men generally appear to be what they really are. Our Lord and Saviour was no exception to this universal rule. To the latest breath, We see His ruling passion strong in death. His dying words are filled with illuminating truth about Himself, and they throw precious light upon His death. Let us, then, tarry for a few moments before His cross, and look and listen while He speaks. I. "_Father, forgive them; they know not what they do_." Men were doing the darkest deed of time. Nothing was wanting to make it hateful to God and repulsive to mankind. All the passions to which the human heart is prone, and all that the spirits of Hell can prompt, had joined forces at Calvary to finish off, in victory if possible, the black rebellion which began in Eden. Everything that is base in human nature--the hate that is in man, the beast that is in man, the fiend that is in man--was there, with hands uplifted, to slay the Lamb. The servants of the Husbandman were beating to death the beloved Son whom He had sent to seek their welfare. It was amidst the human inferno of ingratitude and hatred that these words of infinite grace and beauty fell from the lips of Love Immortal. Long nails had just pierced the torn flesh and quivering nerves of His dear hands and feet; and while He watched His murderers' awful delight in His agony, and heard their jeering shouts of triumph, He lifted up His voice and prayed for them, "_Father--forgive_." There are thoughts that lie too deep for words. The inner light of this message may be revealed--it cannot be spoken. But one or two reflections will repay our consideration. Here was a consciousness of sin. Here was the suggestion of pardon. Here was prayer for sinners. A _consciousness of sin_--of theirs--ours--not His own. Infinite Love takes full account of sin. Boldly recognises it. Straightway refers to it as the source of men's awful acts and awful state. "_O My Father, forgive_!" On the cross of His shame, in the final grip with the mortal enemy, the dying Christ--looking away from His own sufferings, forgetful of the scorn, and curses, and blows of those around Him--is overflowing with this great thought, with this great _fact_--that men's first imperative, overwhelming need, is the forgiveness of their sin. _The suggestion of pardon_. He prays for it. What a transforming thought is the possibility of forgiveness! How different the vilest, the most loathsome criminal becomes in our eyes the moment we know a pardon is on the way! How different a view we get of the souls of men, bound and condemned to die, given up to selfishness and godlessness, the moment we stand by the cross of Jesus, and realise, with Him, that a pardon is possible! The meanest wretch that walks looks different from us. Even the outwardly respectable and very ordinary person who lives next door, to whom we so seldom speak, is at once clothed with a new interest in our minds, if we really believe that there is a pardon coming for him from the King of kings. He _prays_. Yes, this is the great prayer. What an example He has left us! It was not enough to die for the sinful--the ungrateful--the abominable--He must needs pray for them. Dear friend, you may have done many things for the ungodly around you--you may have preached to them, and set them also a lofty example of goodness; you may even have greatly suffered on their behalf; but I can imagine one thing still wanting: have you prayed the Father for them? Remember, He pleaded for the worst: those very men who said, "Let His blood be on us, and on our children." He prayed even for those, and I do not doubt that He was heard. Indeed, it was, I earnestly believe, His prayer which helped on that speedy revival in Jerusalem; and among the three thousand over whom Peter and the rest rejoiced were some who had urged on and then witnessed His cruel death, and for whom His tender accents ascended to the Throne of God amid the final agony of His cross. Dear friend, are you "becoming conformed unto His death"? II. "_To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise_." "_He saved others-He saved others--Himself He cannot save!_" Amidst the din of discordant voices, this taunt sounded out clear and loud, and fell upon the ears of a dying thief. Perhaps, as so often happens now, the Devil over-reached himself even then, and the strange words made the poor criminal think. "_'Others'--'others'--He saves others--then why not me?_" Presently he answered the railing unbelief of his fellow-prisoner; and then, in the simple language of faith, said to the Saviour: "Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy Kingdom." Jesus Christ's reply is one of the great landmarks of the Bible. It denotes the boundary line of the long ages of dimness and indefiniteness about two things--_assurance of salvation in this life, and certainty of immediate blessedness in the life to come_. "To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise!" There is nothing like it in all the Scriptures. It is as though great gates, long closed, were suddenly thrown wide open, and we saw before our eyes that some one passed in where none had ever trodden before. The whole freedom and glory of the Gospel is illustrated at one stroke. Here is the Salvation of The Salvation Army! To-day--without any ceremonies, baptisms, communions, confirmations, without the mediation of any priest or the intervention of any sacraments--such things would indeed have been only an impertinence there--to-day, "TO-DAY shalt thou be with ME." Indeed the gates are open wide at last! But the great lesson of the words lies rather in their revelation of _our Lord's instant accessibility to this poor felon_. His nearness of heart; His complete confidence in His own wonderful power to save; His readiness of response--for it may be said that He leaps to meet this first repentant soul--are all revealed to us. But it is the fact that, amid that awful conflict, His ear was open to another's cry--and such another!--which appeals most to my own heart. With those blessed words of hope and peace in my ears, how can I ever fear that one could be so vile, so far away, so nearly lost, as to cry in vain? Nay, Lord, it cannot be. III. "_Woman, behold thy son_." When Jesus had spoken these words to His mother, He addressed the disciple He had chosen, and indicated by a word that henceforth Mary was to be cared for as his own mother. Great as was the work He had in hand for the world, great as was His increasing agony, He remembered Mary. He knew the meaning of sorrow and loneliness, and He planned to afford His mother such future comfort and consolation as were for her good. This tender care for His own is a rebuke, for all time, to those who will work for others while those they love are left uncared for; left, alas! to perish in their sins. If regrets are possible in the Kingdom of Heaven, surely those regrets will be felt most keenly in the presence of divided families. And if anything can enhance the joys of the redeemed, surely it must be that they are "families in Heaven." Who can think, even now, without a thrill of unmixed delight, of the reunions of those who for long weary years were separated here? What, then, will it be-- When the child shall greet the mother, And the mother greet the child; When dear families are gathered That were scattered on the wild! And what strength and joy it was to Mary. Looking forward to the coming victory, He knew that nothing could so possess her mother-heart with gratitude, and fill her soul with holy exultation as this--that He, the Sacrifice for sin, the Conqueror of Death, and the Redeemer of His people, was _her Son_. And so He makes it quite plain that He, the dying Saviour, was Mary's Son. IV. "_It is finished_." There is a repose, a kind of majesty about this declaration which marks it out from all other human words. There is, perhaps, nothing about the death of Jesus which is in more striking contrast with death as men generally know it than is revealed in this one saying. We are so accustomed to regrets, to confessions that this and that are, alas! _unfinished_; to those sad recitals which so often conclude with the dirge-like refrain, "it might have been," that death stands forth in a new light when it is viewed as the end of a completed journey, and the conclusion of a finished task. This is exactly the aspect of it to which our Lord refers. His work was done. The suffering, also, was ended. Darkness had had its night of sore trial, and now the day was at hand. Trial and suffering do end. It is sometimes hard to believe it, but the end is already appointed from the beginning. It was so with the Saviour of the world; and at length the hour is come, and He raises His bruised and bleeding head for the last time, and cries in token of His triumph, "_It is finished_!" But is there not also here a suggestion of something more? _Up to that concluding hour it was always possible for Him to draw back._ "I lay down My life for the sheep," He had said; "no man taketh it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself." His was, in the very highest and widest sense of the word, a voluntary offering, a voluntary humiliation, a voluntary death. Up to the very last, therefore, He could have stepped down from the cross, going no further toward the dark abyss. But the moment came when this would be no longer possible; when, even for Him, the sacrifice would be irrevocable--when the possibility "to save Himself" was ended, and when He became for ever "the Lamb that was slain," bearing the marks of His wounds in His eternal body. When that moment passed, He might well say, "It is finished." Is there not something that should answer to this in the lives of many of His disciples? Is there not a point for us, also, at which we may pass over the line of uncertainty or reserve in our offering, saying for ever--it is finished? Is there not an appointed Calvary somewhere, at which we can settle the questions that have been so long unsettled, and, in the strength of God, at last declare that, as for controversy of any kind with Him, "it is finished"? Is there not at this very same cross of our dying Saviour a place where doubt and shame may perish together--crucified with Him, and finished for ever? This would be, indeed, a blessed conformity to His death. V. "_I thirst_." This is the first of the three words of Christ which relate specially to His own inner experiences, and which I have placed together for the purpose of this paper. "_I thirst_." They gave Him vinegar to drink--or, probably, in a moment of pity the soldiers brought Him the sour wine which they had provided for themselves. He seems to have partaken of it, although He had refused the mixture that had been before offered Him merely to deaden His pain. To bear that pain was the lofty duty set before Him, and so He would not turn aside from it one hair's breadth. But He humbled Himself to receive what was necessary from the very hands that had been crucifying Him. He, who could have so easily commanded a whole multitude of the heavenly host to appear for His succour, and to whose precious lips, parched in death, the princes of the eternal Kingdom would have so gladly hastened with a draught from celestial springs, condescended to ask the help of those who mocked Him, and to take the support He so sadly needed from His triumphant persecutors. Oh, you who are proud by nature, who are reserved by nature, who are sensitive in spirit, who feel every wrong done to you like a knife entering your breast, and who, when you forgive an injury, find it difficult to forget, and harder still to humble yourselves in any way to those who, you feel, have wronged you--here for you is a lesson, here for you is an example, a precious example, of the condescension of Love. Yes. to love those who seem to be against you, to love those in whom there always appears to you to be some difference of spirit or incompatibility of temperament, will mean, if you are made conformable unto your Master's death, that you will be able to receive at their hands services, kindnesses, pity, advice, which your own poor, fallen nature would, without divine grace, have scorned and spurned. VI. "_My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?_" Here is a great mystery. No doubt, to the human nature of our Lord, it did appear as though the Father had forsaken Him, and that was the last bitter drop in the cup of His humiliation and anguish. If men only knew it, the realisation that God has left them will be the greatest agony of the sinner's doom. And here upon the cross, our Lord, undergoing the penalty of sins not His own has yet to experience fully the severance which sin makes between God and the human soul. But, even to many of those who love and serve God fully, there does come at times something which is very similar to this strange and dark experience of our Lord's. Before the final struggle in many great conflicts, those inward consolations on which so much seems to depend are often mysteriously withdrawn. Why it should be so we do not know; it is a mystery. Some loyal spirits have thought that God withdraws His consolations and His peace, that the soul may be more truly filled with His presence, thus substituting for divine consolation the "God of consolation," and for divine peace the "God of peace." In any case we have this comfort: it was so with our Master. Do not let the servant expect to be above his Lord. This terrible moment of seeming separation from the Father, and the dark cry which was wrung from our Saviour's broken heart, did not, however, make the final victory any the less. And, if you are one with Him, and have really set your heart on glorifying Him, and if you can only _endure_, such moments will not take from your victory one shred of its joy. Oh, then, _hold on to your cross_! hold on to your cross! even if it seems, as it sometimes may, that God Himself has forsaken you, and that you are left to suffer alone, without either the sympathy of those around you, or the conscious support of the indwelling God. _Hold on to your cross_. This is the way of Calvary--this is becoming conformable to the death of the Lord Jesus. VII. "_Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit_." Here our Lord enters upon the extremity of His humiliation. Death must have been repulsive to Him. If the failure of heart and flesh, the cold sweat, the physical collapse, the last parting, the solitude and separation of the grave are all repelling and painful to us, _how much more to Him_! And, indeed, the picture which Christ presents to the outward eye in these last moments is unquestionably one of deep humiliation. The disordered garments--stained with blood and dirt, the distended limbs, the bleeding wound in His side, the face smeared with bloody sweat and dust, the torn brow and hair, and the swollen features, must have combined with all the horrible surroundings to make one of the most gruesome sights that ever man saw. And it was at this moment, _in His extremity_, that He says: "Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit." "Father, I have done all that I can do; now I leave Myself and the rest to Thee." Here is a beautiful message--the great message about Death. This is, in fact, the one way to meet the shivering spectre with peace and joy. But the great lesson of this last word from the cross of Jesus is the lesson of Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob: _that faith in the Father is the inner strength and secret of all true service_. It was, in a very wonderful and real sense, by _faith_ that He wrought His wonders, by faith He suffered, by faith He prayed for His murderers, by faith He died, by faith He made His atonement for the sins of the world. The faith that not one iota of the Father's will could fail of its purpose. Oh, dear comrade and friend, here is the crowning lesson of His life and death alike--"_Have faith in God_." Will you learn of Him? In _your_ extremity of grief or sorrow--if you are called to sorrow--will you not trust Him, and say, "Father, into Thy hands I commend my bereaved and bleeding heart"? In your extremity of poverty--if you are called to poverty--Oh, cry out to Him, "Father, into Thy hands I commend my home, my dear ones." In your extremity of shame and humiliation--arising, maybe, from the injustice or neglect of others--let your heart say in humble faith, "Father, into Thy hands I commend my reputation, my honour, my all." In your extremity of weakness and pain--if you are called to suffer weakness or pain--cry out in faith, "Father, into Thy hands I commend this my poor worn and weary frame." In your extremity of loneliness and heart-separation from all you love for Christ's sake, if that be the path you tread, will you not say to your Lord, "Father, into Thy hands I commend my future, my life; lead Thou me on." Yes, depend upon it, _faith is the great lesson of the cross_. By faith the world was made; by faith the world was redeemed. If we are truly conformed to His death, we also must go forward in faith with the great work of bringing that redemption home to the hearts of men; and all we aim at, all we do, all we suffer, must be sought for, done, and suffered in that personal, simple faith in our Father and God which Jesus manifested on His cross, in that hour when all human aid failed Him, and when He cried in the language of a little child, "_Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit_." X. The Resurrection and Sin. "_Concerning His Son Jesus Christ our Lord, which was . . . declared to be the Son of God with power, according to the spirit of holiness, by the resurrection from the dead_."--Romans i. 3, 4. Just as one of the great proofs, if not the great proof, of the truth of Christianity is the vast fact of the world's need for it, so one grand proof of the Resurrection lies in the fact that no interpretation of Christ's teaching or Christ's life would be worth a brass farthing--so far as the actual life of suffering man is concerned--without His Death and Resurrection. That teaching might be illuminating--convincing--exalting; yes, even morally perfect; and yet, if He did not die, it would be little more than a superior book of proverbs or a collection of highly-polished copy-book maxims. That life--that wonderful life--might be the supremest example of all that is or could be good and great and lovely in human experience; and yet, if He did not rise again from the tomb, it would, after all, be only a dead thing--like a splendid specimen of carved marble in some grand museum, exquisite to look upon, and of priceless value, but cold and cheerless, lifeless and dead. For it is a Living Person men need to be their Friend and Saviour and Guide. The splendid statue might possibly invite or challenge us to imitate it, but it could never call a human heart to love its stony features. Noble and pure as Jesus Christ's example undoubtedly was, it could of itself never satisfy a human soul or inspire poor, broken, human hearts with hope and love, or wash away from human consciousness the stains of sin. These things can only be done by a Living Person. So it is that we are not told to believe on His teaching or on His Church, but on _Him_. He did not say "Follow My methods or My disciples," but "_Follow_ ME." If He be not risen from the dead, and alive for evermore; if, in short, it be a dead man we are to follow and on whom we are to believe--then we are, indeed, as Paul says, "of all men the most miserable." I. But it is the life of Jesus, and the evidence of that life, in us that are really all-important. _No extent of worldly wisdom or historical testimony can finally establish for us the fact and power of Christ's Resurrection, unless we have proof in ourselves of His presence there as a Living Spirit_. With St. Paul, we must "know Him, and the power of His resurrection." That is the grand knowledge. That is the crown of all knowledge. That is the knowledge which places those who have received it beyond the freaks and fancies of human wisdom or human folly. That is the knowledge which cleanses the heart, destroys the strength of evil, and brings in that true righteousness which is the power to do right. That is the greatest proof of the Resurrection. No books, not even the Bible itself; no testimony, not even the testimony of those who were present on that first Easter Day, can be so good as this, the experimental proof. It is the most fitting and grateful, and adapts itself to every type of human experience. _And it is beyond contradiction_! What avail is it to contradict those who can answer, "Hereby we know that we dwell in Him, and He in us, because He hath given us of His Spirit"? It is even beyond argument! For of what advantage can it be to argue with a man that he is still blind, when he tells you that his eyes have been opened, and when he declares, "Whereas I _was_ blind, NOW I SEE"? To us Salvationists, the hope of the world, and the strength of our hard and long struggle for the souls of men, centre in this glorious truth. He is risen, and is alive for evermore; and because He lives we live also' All around us are the valleys of death, filled with bones--very many and very dry. Love lies there, dead. Hope is dead. Faith is dead. Honour is dead. Truth is dead. Purity is dead. Liberty is dead. Humility is dead. Fidelity is dead. Decency is dead. It is the blight of humanity. Death--moral and spiritual death in all her hideous and ghastly power--reigns around us. Men are indeed dead--"dead in trespasses and sins." What do we need? What is the secret longing of our hearts? What is the crying agony of our prayers? Is it for any human thing we seek? No. God knows--a thousand times, no! We have but one hope or desire, and that is "life from the dead." We want life, the risen life--life more abundant--life Divine, amid these deep, dark noisome valleys of the dead. Here, then, is our hope. He rose again, and ascended up on high, and received gifts for men. This is the hope which keeps us going on; this is the invisible spring from which our weary spirits draw the elixir of an invincible courage--Christ, the risen Christ, who has come to raise the dead! "You _hath_ He quickened who were dead in trespasses and sins." Hallelujah! "Dead in sins!" Jesus never made light of sin. He used no disguise when He talked of it, no equivocal terms, no softening words. There is no single suggestion in all His discourses or conversations that He thought it merely a disease, or a derangement, or a misfortune, or anything of that kind, or that He deemed it anything but a ruinous and deadly rebellion against God--the great disaster of the world, and the most awful, dangerous, and far-reaching precursor of suffering in the whole existence of the universe. He said it was bad, bad all through--in form, in expression, in purpose; above all, in spirit and desire. That there was no remedy for it but His remedy. No rains in all the heavens to wash it, no waters in all the seas to cleanse it away, no fires in Hell itself to purge its defilement. The only hope was in the blood of His sacrifice. And so He came to shed it, to save the people from their sins. That is our hope. We are of those who see something of the fruits of sin, and to whom it is no matter for the chastened lights of the literary drawing-room. We know--some of us--how deep the roots of pollution can strike into human character by our own scorched and blistered histories; and we know by our observation into what deeps of black defilement men can plunge. The charnel houses of iniquity must ever be the workshops of the Salvationist. There we see of the havoc, the cruelty, the debauchment, the paralysis, the leprosy, the infernal fascination of sin. And we know there is only one hope--the Lamb that was slain, and rose again from the dead, and ever liveth for our salvation. II. The only really satisfactory test of any faith, or system of faiths, lies in its treatment of sin. Human consciousness in all ages, and in all conditions of development, bears witness to the fact of sin with universal and overwhelming conviction. Men cannot prevent the discomfort of self-accusation which ever follows wrong-doing. They cannot escape from the bitter which always lies hidden in the sweet. They cannot forget the things they wish to forget. Even when they are a law unto themselves, they are compelled to judge themselves by that law. It is as though some unerring necessity is laid upon every individual of the race to sit in judgment upon his own conduct, and to pass sentence upon himself. He is compelled to speak to his own soul of things about which he would rather be silent, and to listen to that which he does not wish to hear. The proof that this is so is open, manifest, and indisputable. Human experience in the simplest and widest sense of the word attests it. It stands unquestioned amid floods of questions on every other conceivable subject. No system of philosophy, no school of scientific thought, no revelation from the heavens above or the earth beneath can really weaken it. It is not found in books, or received by human contact, or influenced by human example. It is revealed in every man. It is felt by all men. They do not learn it, or deduce it, or believe it merely. They know it. All men do. You do. I do. Many things contribute to this simple and yet supremely wonderful and awful fact of human experience. One of them is the faculty of thought. Man is made a thinking creature, and think he must; and if he thinks, he must, above all, think about himself, about his future, his present, his past. A great French writer--and not a Christian writer--says on this subject: "There is a spectacle grander than the ocean, and that is the conscience. After many conflicts, man yields to that mysterious power which says to him, 'Think.' One can no more prevent the mind from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to a shore. With the sailor this is called 'the tide.' With the guilty it is called 'remorse.' God, by a universal law, upheaves the soul as well as the ocean." And side by side with this thinking faculty, there is the further fact, that God will not leave men alone. On those unerring and resistless tides He sends into the human soul His messages. He visits them. He arouses them. He compels their attention. In His providence, by acts of mercy and of judgment--by sorrow and loss--by stricken days and bitter nights, He makes them remember their sin. All the weapons in His armoury, and all the wisdom of His nature are employed to bring men to a sense of guilt--to prick them to the heart--in order to lead them to recognise and to confess and to turn away from sin. If, therefore, man by any invention had found out a way by which he could escape from the consciousness of evil without putting it away, God would not let him go. Clearly, then, the initial proof of success in religion must be that religion can deal satisfactorily with the conscious guilt of sin. To this high test, all theories, all pretences, all promises must come at last. What are they in their actual effect on the memories and consciences of men in relation to their sin? How do they treat with guilt? How do they meet remorse? Can they silence the clamours of the night? Can they give peace when it is too late to undo what sin has done? Do they suffice amid the deepening shadows of the death chamber--the place where ever and anon the forgotten past comes forth to demand the satisfaction so long delayed? But these, after all, are only the fruits--some of the fruits of sin. What of the thing itself? That is the sternest test of all. The mere condemnation of sin, no matter how fully it harmonises with our sense of what ought to be, does not satisfy man. The excusing of sin is no better; it leaves the sinner who loves his sin, a sinner who loves it still. If excuses could silence conscience, or set free from the bondage of hate or passion, how many of the slaves of both would soon be at liberty! The re-naming of evil which has often been attempted during the last two or three thousand years, and again in quite recent days, has little or no effect either upon its nature or upon those who are under its mastery. The new label does not change the poison. Its victim is a victim still. Nor does the punishment of sin entirely dispose of it, either in the sufferer, or in the consciousness of the onlooker. No doubt the discovery and punishment of sin do give men a certain degree of satisfaction, but at best it is only a _relief_, when what they need, and what they see their fellows need, is a _remedy_. Sending a fever patient to hospital is a poor expedient unless we cure the disease. Sending a thief to prison is a poor affair if he remains a thief. It is not in reality a victory over thieving; it is, in fact, a defeat. Yes--it is a cure we need. And we know it. A cure which is not merely a remedy for the grosser forms which evil takes in men's lives, and their terrible consequences, but a cure of the hidden and secret humours from which they spring. The deceitfulness of the human heart. The thoughts and intents which colour all men do. The lusts and desires, the loves and hates from which conduct springs. The selfishness and rebellion which drive men on to the rocks. The real question for us then is, Can our religion--does our religion, when tried by the test of human experience--afford any remedy for these? Unless it does, man can no more be satisfied or be set free by condemnations, or excusings, or re-christenings, or punishments of sin, than the slave can be contented with discussions about his owner's mistakes or emancipated by new contrivances for painting his chains! III. But what is this sin, the consciousness of which is thus forced upon all--this determined, persistent, active evil? It is not the mere absence of good-a negative gain--but it is the love of, and the actual striving after that which is flatly condemned by God, and is in open rebellion against Him. The centreing of the corrupt heart upon its own corruption. Opposition to the pure will of God. Pride, falseness, unscrupulous ambition. Self-seeking, regardless of the means by which its object is obtained. Luxury, effeminacy, and sensuality. The lusts and fleshly passions. Malice, cruelty, and envy. The greed of gain. The love and thraldom of the world. There it is--the running sore of a suffering race. The outflow of the carnal mind, which is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. There is no getting away from it. "Against this immovable barrier--the existence of sin--the waves of philosophy have dashed themselves unceasingly since the birth of human thought, and have retired broken and powerless, without displacing the minutest fragment of the stubborn rock, without softening one feature of its dark, rugged surface." And the worst of all is that sin is a wrong against God. _Man sins, of course, against himself._ That is written large on human affairs, so that no fool, however great a fool, may miss it. Well may the prophet say, "O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself!" Men mix the hemlock for themselves! The sinner is a moral suicide! _Man sins against his fellow._ Nothing is more evident to us than that men tempt and corrupt one another. They hold one another back from righteousness. They break down virtue, and extinguish faith, and silence conscience in their neighbours. They act as decoys and trappers for each other's souls. They play the Devil's cat's-paws, and procure for him the rum of their fellows, which could not be compassed without their aid. In short, the sinner is a moral murderer! But, after all--and it is a hideous all--_the crowning wrong, and the crowning misery, is that sin is sin against God_. Unless the Bible be a myth, and the prophets a disagreeable fraud, and the whole lesson of Jesus Christ's life and death an illusion, God is deeply concerned with man. That concern extends to man's whole nature, his whole existence, his whole environment; and most of all it is manifest with regard to his sin. God puts Himself forward in the whole history of His dealings with men as an intimate, responsible, and observing Party in the presence of wrong-doing. He watches. He sees. He knows. He will consider. He will remember or He will forget. He will in no wise acquit the guilty, or He will pardon. Justice and vengeance are His, and so is forgiveness. He will weigh in the balances. He will testify against the evil-doer, or He will make an atonement for him. He will cut off and destroy, or He will have mercy. He will repay, or He will blot out. From beginning to end of Revelation--and there is something in the human soul which strangely responds to Revelation in this matter--we have a sense, a spiritual instinct, of the truth which Job set forth, "_If I sin, then Thou markest me, and Thou will not acquit me from mine iniquity_," which is confirmed by Jeremiah, "Though thou wash thee with nitre and take thee much soap, _yet thine iniquity is marked before Me, saith the Lord God_;" and which is insisted upon by the Apostle when he writes, "We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad." Yes, it is against the Lord God men have sinned, and to Him they are accountable. And they know it. Here again is something which does not come by observation or instruction, but by an inward sense which can neither be mistaken nor long denied. Sooner or later, men are compelled to acknowledge God, and to acknowledge that they have sinned against Him. As with David, when he cried out, "Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight"--so to every man comes at last the awakening. We see, as David saw, that whomsoever else we have wronged, _God_ is most wronged; whomsoever else we may have injured, the great evil is that we have broken _His_ law and violated _His_ will. In the light of that experience, sin becomes instantly a terrible and bitter thing. The fact that sinners can win the approval of men, the honour of success; that they can hide iniquity; that they can for a time escape from punishment, makes no difference when God appears upon the scene. Evil starts up for judgment. Memory marshals the ranks of transgression. Retribution seems the only right thing to look for. Punishment appears to be so deserved that nothing else can be possible. In their own eyes they are guilty. Guilt is branded upon them. It is from this realisation of having offended God that there spring the dark forebodings of punishment. Men may dread it, and be willing to make superhuman sacrifices to escape it, but they expect it all the same. Thus in all ages men have cried out less for pardon and release from penalty than for deliverance from the guilt and domination of evil. Their language by a universal instinct has been like David's: "Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Thy loving kindness: according unto the multitude of Thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned." XI. "Salvation Is of the Lord" "_Salvation is of the Lord_."--Jonah ii. 9. "_Work out your own salvation_."--Phil. ii. 12. Salvation is of the Lord, or not at all. It is a touch; a revelation; an inspiration; the life of God in the soul. It is not of man only, nor of that greatest of human forces--the will of man, but of God and the will of God. It is not mere will-work, a sort of "self-raising" power--it is a redemption brought home by a personal Redeemer; made visible, tangible, knowable to the soul redeemed in a definite transaction with the Lord. It brings forth its own fruits, carries with it the assurance of its own accomplishment, and is its own reward. It is impossible to declare too often or too plainly that Salvation is of the Lord. I. And yet, around us on every side are those who are relying upon something short of this new life. They have set up a sort of human virtue in the place of the God-life. They are slowly mastering their disordered passions. The base instigations of their lower nature are being thwarted. Greedy appetites which reign in others are in them compelled to serve. Tendencies to cunning and falsehood, the fruits of which are only too apparent in the world at large, they watch and harass and pinch. Animosities, and jealousies, and envies--those enemies of all kinds of peace--are repressed, if not controlled. And these followers of virtue go further than this. They aim at building up a character which can be called noble, or at least virtuous. And some succeed--or appear to themselves to do so. They cultivate truth. Honesty is with them, whether as to their business or their social life, the best policy. They are just. They are temperate. By nature and by training they are kind and generous; so much so that it is as difficult to convict them of an unkindly act as it is easy to prove them more generous and liberal than many of the professed followers of Jesus. Often they are charitable, giving of their substance to the poor; not hard to please, considerate of their inferiors, patient with one another; in a very high sense they have true charity. And after long periods of struggle, and lofty and faithful effort, they may be able to claim that they have developed a fine character; that by self-cultivation, and perhaps by a kind of self-redemption, they have produced a very beautiful and desirable being! I will not stay to inquire how far heart conceit and heart deceit may account for much of this, or to suggest that a great contrast may exist between the outer life and the unseen deeps within. I will admit for the moment that all is as stated, and even more. What, then? With much of grace and beauty, it may be; trained and tutored in the ways of humility and virtue; able to live in the constant and kindly service of others, and devoted to truth and duty--with all these excellencies they may yet be dead while they live. "That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit." Generous, lovable, dutiful, honourable flesh, but only flesh. A chaste, and, if you like to have it so, a useful life, but LIFELESS. A fine product of a lifetime of labour in the culture of the physical, intellectual, and moral powers, but, after all--DEAD. For "_He that believeth not on the Son of God hath not life_." II. In this view the body, and in a larger degree the mind, becomes a sepulchre for the soul. All the attention given to education, to refinement and culture, to the develop ment of gifts--for instance, such as music or inventive science--to the practice of self-restraint and the pursuit of morality, is so much attention to the casket that will perish, to the neglect of the eternal jewel that is enclosed. It may be possible to present a kindly, honest, law-abiding, agreeable life to our neighbours; to go through business and family life without rinding anything of great moment with which to condemn ourselves; to be thought, even by those nearest to us, to be living up to a high standard of morality, and yet--for all this has to do with the casket only--to be dead all the while in trespasses and sins. The young man who should spend his fortune upon his tomb would be scarcely so great a fool as he who spends his life on those things in himself which are temporal, to the neglect of those which are eternal. Only think of the absurdity of devoting the splendid energy of youth and manhood, the grand force of will, the skill of genius, and the other gifts which commonly men apply to their own advancement and success, to the adornment, enriching, and extension of one's _grave_! And yet this is very much the case of those of whom I am thinking. All their advances, whether in moral attainment, in personal achievement, or in worldly advantage, are, at the best, but enlargements and adornments of a tomb, and of a tomb destined itself to perish! III. Do I, then, discourage good works? Has man no part to play in his own deliverance? Is he, after all, only an animal--the mere creature of circumstance and natural law? Have I forgotten that "faith without works is dead"? No, I think not. I have but remembered that _works without faith are dead also_. The one extreme is as dangerous as the other. The legal, mechanical observance of the rules of a right life, apart from a living faith in Christ, can no more renew the heart in holiness and righteousness, than can a mere intellectual belief of certain facts about Christ, apart from working out His will, save the soul, or make it meet for the inheritance of the saints. In both cases the verdict will be the same. The faith in the one is "_dead_"; the works in the other are also "_dead_." The fact is, Salvation is a two-fold work. It is of God--it is of man. Did God not will man's Salvation he could not be saved. Unless man will his own Salvation he cannot be saved. God is free. Man also is free. He may set up a plan for saving himself; but, no matter how perfect, it will fail unless it have God for its centre. And God, though He has devised the most infinitely complete and beautiful and costly scheme of redemption for man, will none the less fail unless the individual man wills to co-operate with Him. Man is not a piece of clay which God can fashion as He likes. He is not even a harp out of which He can get what strains He will without regard to its strings. There is in man something--a force--an energy--which must act in union with God, and with which God must act in wonderful partnership, if His will is to be accomplished. IV. It is true, of course, that God does much for a man without his aid. I do not now refer to material blessings. He it is who gives us "life, and breath, and all things"--and gives them largely without our effort. But even in man God does much without his help. He calls. He stirs up conscience. He gives flashes of light to the most darkened heart. He softens by the hand of sorrow, and rebukes with the stripes of affliction. Memory, human affection, hope, ambition, are all made means by the Holy Ghost to urge men to holiness. The ministry of goodness in others is so directed as to point multitudes to the way of the Cross. But this will not provide the one thing needful. Instruction, clear views of the truth, belief in the facts of God's love and grace, admiration of Salvation in other lives, even the desire to declare the Gospel, may all be present, and yet the soul be--DEAD--dead in trespasses and sins--cursed, bound, and corrupted by dead works. Just as the noblest and highest efforts of man towards his own Salvation, _without the co-operating, life-giving work of God_, can result only in confusion and death; so the most powerful, gracious, long-suffering and tender yearnings and work of God for man's Salvation, _without the co-operating will of man_, can result only in distress, disappointment, and death. V. Are _you_ dead? Are _you_ in either of these classes? Are you relying on God's mercy; waiting for some strange visitation from on high; depending with a faith which is merely of the mind upon some past work of Christ; but without the vital power of His mighty life in you? Filled with desires that are not realised; offering prayers that are not answered; striving at times to work out a law of goodness which you feel all the time is an impossibility for you? Living, so to speak, out of your element--like a fish out of water? That is DEATH. Or are you, on the other hand, depending for Salvation on your own labour to build up a good character, and to live a decent, honourable, and honest life? Conscious of advance, but not of victory? The servant of a high ideal, but without _liberty_? The devotee of your own self? All the powers and qualities of your nature growing towards maturity, _except the powers of your soul_? The casket--as life goes on--growing more and more adorned, while the eternal spirit, the priceless jewel made to receive the likeness of God and enjoy Him for ever, seems ever of less and less worth to you? That also is DEATH. The man who is in either class is dead while he lives. He is a walking mortuary. XII. Self-Denial. "_If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me_."--Matt. xvi. 24. It is a striking thought that self-denial is, perhaps, the only service that a man can render to God without the aid or co-operation of something or some one outside himself. No matter what he does--unless it be to _pray_, which would hardly be included in the idea of _service_--he is more or less dependent upon either the assistance or presence of others. If, for example, he speaks or sings for God, whether in public or in private, he must have hearers; if he writes, it is that he may have readers; if he teaches, he needs scholars; if he distributes gifts, there must be receivers of his charity; if he leads souls to Christ, these souls must be willing to come; if he suffers persecution, there must be persecutors; or if, like Stephen, he is called to die for his Lord, there must be those who stone him, and others who stand by consenting to his death. A few moments' consideration will, I think, also show, that even in the sphere of our personal spiritual experience, it is very much the same. We can, after all, do but little for ourselves. Salvation comes to men through human instrumentality, and seldom apart from it. We are, I know, saved by faith; but how shall we believe unless we hear? and how shall we hear without a preacher? That instruction on the things of God, which is a necessity for every true child of God, comes almost invariably by the agency or through the experiences of others. The joys and consolation of fellowship can only be the result of communion with the saints. In spiritual things, as in ordinary affairs, it is the countenance of his friend which quickens and brightens the tired toiler as "iron sharpeneth iron." And though it is true that God can, and often does, wonderfully teach and inspire His people without the direct aid of any human agent, it is equally true that He generally does so by the employment of His word, which He has revealed to men, or by the recalling of some message which has already been received into the mind and heart. Nor does this in the least detract from our absolute dependence upon Him. The man who crosses the Atlantic in a steamship is no less dependent on the sea because he employs the vessel for his journey. We are no less dependent upon the earth for our sustenance because we only partake of the wheat after it has been ground into flour and made into bread. And so, we are no less dependent upon God because He has been pleased to employ various humble and simple instruments to save, and teach, and guide us. After full allowance has been made for the power and influence of intervening agencies, it is in Him we really live, and move, and have our being. But I return to my first word. There is one kind of service open to all, irrespective of circumstances and gifts, which can be rendered to God without the intervention of anyone. And this we may truly call self-denial. Much that quite properly comes under that description need never--probably will never--be known to anyone but God. It may be a holy sacrament indeed, kept between the soul and its Lord alone. I. _There is the Denial of all that remains of Evil in us._ How many sincere souls, when they look into their own hearts, find, to their horror, evil in them where they least expected it; find them part stone, when they should be all flesh; find them bound to earth and the love of earthly things, when they should be free from the world and the love of the world; find them occupied, alas! so often with idols and heart-lusts, when God alone ought to rule and reign. Here is a sphere for self-denial. Here is a service to be rendered to God, which will be very acceptable to Him, and which you alone can perform. And if you would thus deny yourself, then examine yourself. Study the evils of your own nature. Recognise sin. Call it by its right name when you speak of it in the solitude of your own heart. If there are the remains of the deadly poison in you, say so to God, and keep on saying so with a holy importunity. "Confess your sins." Attack them as the farmer attacks the poison-plant amongst his crops, or the worms and flies which will blight his harvest, and which, unless he can ruin them, he knows full well will ruin him. That is the "_perfect self-denial_"--to cut off the right hand, and to pluck out and cast away what is dear as the right eye, if it offend against the law of purity and truth and love. _But you yourself are to do it_. Do not say you cannot, for you alone can. If you would be His disciple--His holy, loving, pure, worthy disciple--you must deny _yourself_. Cry to Him for help as much as you will--you cannot cry too often or too long--but you must do more than that: you must arise, and deny your own selfish nature; pinch, and harass, and refuse your own inward sins, and expose them to the light of God. Confess them without ceasing, mortify them without mercy, and slay them, and give no quarter. Say, and say in earnest:-- Oh, how I hate these lusts of mine That crucified my God!-- These sins that pierced and nailed His flesh Fast to the fatal wood. Yes, my Redeemer, they shall die-- My soul has so decreed; I will not longer spare the things That made my Saviour bleed. Whilst with a melting, broken heart, My murdered Lord I view, I'll raise revenge against my sins, And slay the murderers too. II. _There are Denials of the Will_. Human nature is a collection of likes and dislikes. The great mass of men are governed by their preferences. What they like, they strive after; what they do not like, they neglect, or refuse, or resist. Many of these preferences, though not harmful in themselves, lead continually to that subjection of the will to self-interest, and help that self-satisfaction and self-love which are the deadly enemies of the soul. Now, true self-denial is the denial, for Christ's sake and the sake of souls, of these preferences. To say to God: "I sacrifice my way for Thy way--my wish for Thy wish--my will for Thy will--my plan for Thy plan--my life for Thy life"--this is self-denial. Nothing can be more acceptable to a good father's heart than the knowledge that his son, living and labouring far away from him amid difficulties and opposition, is courageously sacrificing his own preferences, and faithfully seeking to carry out his, the father's, will. In such a son that father sees a reproduction of all that is strongest and best in his own nature. And so it is with the Heavenly Father. No greater joy can be His than to see the resolute surrender of His children's own will to His, and the daily denial of their hopes and plans for themselves and theirs in favour of His plans. III. _There are Denials of the Affections_. The precious things of earth-- The mother's tender care, The father's faith and prayer-- From Thee have birth. And, just because love is of such high origin, and is the greatest power in human life, it is often captured and held by the Devil as his last stronghold against God. The heart is at once the strongest and the most sensitive part of our nature; and it is here, therefore, that we often find the most blessed and profitable opportunities for self-denial. That pleasant companionship, so grateful, so fruitful of joy, and yet so likely to tempt me from the path of faithful service, "Lord, I deny myself of it." That mastering affection for wife, or husband, or children--so beautiful in its strength and simplicity, and yet so exacting in its claims--"Lord, I deny myself of the abandonment to which it invites me; I put it in its proper place, second to Thee, and to the work Thou hast given me to do." That love of home, and friends, and circle, which is so powerful a factor in life, and enters so constantly into all the arrangements and details of our conduct, influencing so largely all real plans for doing God's work--"Lord, I will deny it, when it is in danger of lessening my labours for Thee and Thy Kingdom." The pleasant hour, the quiet evening, the restful book, "I will lay them at Thy feet, for Thy sake, when they hinder me doing Thy will. It is between me and Thee alone; it is the sacrifice of love." How precious it must be to God to see such self-denial! When the true lover sees the woman he has chosen leaving all for his sake, calmly laying down the love of father and family, and even braving the rebuffs and unkindness of those from whom before she has known nothing but affection, in order that she may give him her whole heart and life, how strong become the cords which bind him to her! Every sacrifice she makes for his sake forges another bond which will not easily be broken. And is the Lord a man, that He should be behind us in loving with an everlasting love those who thus give up and deny their own loves for Him? No! a thousand times no! He will repay. Every self-denial is a seedling rich with future joys. For it is indeed true that "He that soweth to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. He that overcometh shall inherit all things, and I will give him the morning star." IV. _There are Denials with reference to our Gifts_. "Look not," says the Apostle, "every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others." That is, even in the exercise of his choicest gifts and graces, let a man forget his own in his desire to employ and bring forward the gifts of others. "Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves." That is, in your own mind take a humble view of yourself, your own powers, and your own worthiness, and hold your comrades in higher esteem than you hold yourself, in honour preferring one another to yourself. _That would be a very real self-denial to some people!_ "Recompense to no man evil for evil," though you know he well deserves it; "Avenge not yourselves." "If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink." "Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep." That is, deny yourself of your own joys, that you may enter into the sorrow of others; and lay aside your own sorrows and tears, and silence your own breaking heart, when you can help others by entering with joy into their joys. You will see, beloved, that all this is work which _no one can do for you_, and that it is in a very true sense high service to God as well as to man. How, then, is it with you? Are you a self-denying disciple? If not, beware, lest it should shortly appear that you are not a disciple at all. XIII. In Unexpected Places. "_And . . . while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus Himself drew near, and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know Him_."--Luke xxiv. 15, 16. I. _The Knife-grinder_. The only person in the house, except the man and his wife, was a young domestic servant, a Soldier of The Salvation Army. Her employers were generally drinking when they were not asleep, and the drinking led to the most dreadful quarrelling. Disgusting orgies of one kind or another were of almost daily occurrence, and such, visitors as came to the house only added fuel to the fiery furnace of passion and frenzy through which the girl was called to walk. Since that happy Sunday afternoon two years ago, when she gave herself to God in the wholesome village from which she came, the meetings and the opportunity, given her by The Army, of doing some work for other souls had been a bright light in her life. Little by little religion had come to have for her something of the same meaning it had for St. Paul: though I fear she knew very little of St. Paul, or of the great and wise things he wrote--domestic service is seldom favourable to the study of the Scriptures. But the same spirit which led the great Apostle to confer not with flesh and blood, and which took him into Arabia before he went to Jerusalem, was leading this quiet, country maiden to see that to be a follower of Christ means something more than to win a fleeting happiness in this life and a kind of pension in the next. She was beginning to understand that to be really Christ's means also to be a Christ; that to be His, one must seek for the lost sheep for whom He died. And so Rhoda--I call her Rhoda, though that was not her name--when she found to what sort of people she had, in her ignorance of the great city, engaged herself, had set to work to seek their salvation. Many very good people would probably think that she would have been a wiser girl to have gone elsewhere--that the risks of such a position were very great, and so on. No doubt; but the light of a great truth was rising in Rhoda's heart and mind. She perceived in her very danger an opportunity to prove her love for her Saviour by risking something for the souls of those two besotted creatures, for whom she dared to think He really died. And so, day after day, she toiled for them: night after night she prayed for them. And in her sober moments the wreck of a woman, her mistress, wept aloud in her slobbering way, and talked of the days long, long ago, when she, too, believed in the things that are good. The first flush of novelty in the sense of doing an unselfish thing for God wore away, and presently Rhoda's real trial began. The drinking and fighting grew worse, and the difficulty of getting out to a meeting grew greater. Gradually the weary body robbed the struggling soul of its time to pray; and, worst of all, by slow degrees Rhoda's faith was shaken, for her prayers, her agonising prayers, on behalf of those dark souls were only too manifestly not answered. Was it worth while, after all, troubling about sinners? Was it her affair? Why should she care? Of what use could it be to become an Officer, in order to seek the many, if God did not hearken to her cry for the few? One day the Captain of the Corps to which Rhoda belonged called, and seemed grieved with her for neglecting the meetings. This was a heavy blow. She could not or would not explain, and when that night, in the midst of a drunken brawl, her master struck her in the face, heart and flesh both failed, and she determined to say no more about salvation, and to abandon all profession of religion. That night seemed long and dark, and when at last sleep came, the pillow was wet with tears of anguish, of anger, and of pride. "Scissors to mend! to mend! to mend!" The monotonous calls of London hawkers are a strange mixture of sounds--at one moment attractive, at another repelling; they are, perhaps, more like the cry of a bird in distress than anything else. Rhoda looked at her wood-chopper as the knife-grinder came nearer to the house, and as he passed beckoned him, and gave it to him. She made no remark. He was rough and grimy, and his torn coat gave him an appearance of misery, which his face rather belied. She was miserable enough, and made no reply to his cheery "Good morning!" Presently the axe was sharpened, and the man brought it to the door. She paid him. "Thank you," he said. And then, with kindly abruptness--"Excuse me, but I see you have been crying. Do you ever pray?" And, after a silence, "God answers prayer, though He may not do it our way. _He did it for me._ I was a drunkard, but my mother's prayers are answered now, and I belong to The Salvation Army. Do you know any of them? Oh, they just live by prayer!" Rhoda stood in silence listening to the strange man till she ceased to hear him, and looking at him till she ceased to see him! Another Presence and another Voice was there. _It was the Christ_. Rhoda was delivered. She is still fighting for souls, and loves most to do it where Satan's seat is. But the knife-grinder never knew. II. _A Kiss_. The heat and smell in the narrow slum were worse than usual. A hot Saturday night in midsummer is a bad time in the slums, and worse in the slum public-houses. It was so on the night I speak of. In and out of the suffocating bar the dirty stream of humanity came and went. Men who had ceased long ago to be anything but beasts; women with tiny, white children in their bony arms; boys and girls sipping the naphtha of perdition, and talking the talk of fools; lewd and foul-mouthed women of the streets, all hustled and jostled one another, and sang, and swore, and bandied horrid words with the barmen--and, all the while, they drank, and drank, and drank! The atmosphere grew thicker and thicker with the dust and tobacco-smoke, and little by little the flaming gas-jets burnt up the oxygen, till by midnight the place was all but unendurable. Among the last to go was a woman of the town, who betook herself, with a bottle of whisky, to a low lodging-house hard by. There she drank and quarrelled with such vehemence that in the early hours of the morning the "Deputy"--as the guardian of order is called in these houses--picked her up and threw her into the gutter outside. There, amid the garbage from the coster-mongers' barrows and the refuse of the town, this remnant of a ruined woman lay in a half-drunken doze, until the golden sunlight mounted over the city houses and pierced the sultry gloom on the Sabbath morning. Another woman chanced that way. Young, beautiful alike in form and spirit, and touched with the far-offness of many who walk with Christ, she hastened to the early Sunday morning service, there to join her prayers with others seeking strength to win the souls of men. "What is that?" she asked her friend as they passed. "That," replied the other, "is a drunken woman, unclean and outcast." In a moment the Salvationist knelt upon the stones, and kissed the battered face of the poor wanderer. "Who is that--what did you do?" said the Magdalene. "Why did you kiss me? _Nobody ever kissed me since my mother died_." _It was the Christ_. That kiss won a heart to Him. III. _A Promotion_. Henry James was coming rapidly into his employer's favour. Thoughtful, obliging, attentive to details, anxious to please, and, above all, thoroughly reliable in word and deed, he was a first-class servant and an exemplary Salvationist. In the Corps to which he belonged he stood high in the esteem both of the Local Officers and the Soldiers, and there was no more welcome speaker in the Open-air or more successful "fisher" in the sinners' meetings than "Young James." The question of his own future was beginning to occupy a good deal of attention. Ought he to offer himself for Officership in The Army? He was very far from decided either one way or the other, when one evening at the close of business his master sent for him. He expressed his pleasure at the progress James was making, and offered him a greatly improved position--the managership of a branch establishment, with certain privileges as to hours, an immediate and considerable advance in salary, and the prospect of a still more profitable position in the future. There was really only one condition required of him--he must live in premises adjoining the new venture, and he must not come to and fro in the uniform of The Army. His employers had a high esteem for The Salvation Army. It was a noble work, and their opinion of it had risen since they had employed one or two of its Soldiers. But business was business, and the uniform going in and out would not help business, and so forbh. The young man hesitated, and, to the senior partner's surprise, asked for a week to consider. During the week there were consultations with almost every one he knew. The majority of his own friends said decidedly "Accept." A few Salvationists of the weaker sort said, "Yes, take it; you will, in the end, be able to do more for God, and give The Army more time, more money, more influence." On the other hand, the Captain and the older Local Officers answered, "No; it is a compromise of principle; the uniform is only the symbol of out-and-out testimony for Christ; you put it on in holy covenant with Him; you cannot take it off, especially for your own advantage, without breaking that covenant. Don't!" James promised himself--quite sincerely, no doubt--that it should not be so with him. And on the appointed day informed the firm that he accepted their proposal. The new enterprise was a success. Everything turned out better than was expected. At the end of six months the new manager received a cordial letter of thanks from the firm, and a hint of further developments. But Henry James was an unhappy man. He had gained so much that he was always asking himself how it came about that he seemed to have lost so much more! Position, prospects, opportunity, money--these were all enhanced. And yet he went everywhere with a sense of loss, burdened with a consciousness of having parted with more than he had received in return. As a man of business, the impression at last took the form of a business estimate in his mind. Yes, that was it; he had secured a high--a very high--price that evening in the counting-house, when the partners waited for his answer; he had parted with something; he had, in fact, sold something. _It was the Christ_. It proved a ruinous transaction. XIV. Ever the Same. A New Year's Greeting. _"Blessed be the name of God for ever and ever: for wisdom and might are His: and He changeth the times and the seasons."_--Daniel ii. 20, 21. _"I am the Lord, I change not."_--Malachi iii. 6. "He changeth the times and the seasons." What a beautiful thought it is! Instead of the hard compulsion of some inexorable and unchanging law fixing summer where it must, and planting winter in our midst whether it be well or ill, here is the sweet assurance that the seasons change at His command; and that the winds and the waves obey Him. It is not some abstract and unknowable force, taking no account of us and ours, with whom we have to do, but a living and ruling Father: He who maketh small the drops of water that pour down rain; He who shuts up the sea with doors, and says: "Here shall thy proud waves be stayed"; He who maketh the south winds to blow, and by whose breath the frost is given; He who teaches the swallow to know the time of her coming, and has made both summer and winter, and the day and the night His servants--He is our Father. How precious it is to feel that our times are in His hands; and to know that, whether the year be young or old, He will fill it with mercy and crown it with loving-kindness! Do not be deceived by the modern talk about the laws of Nature into forgetting that they are the laws ordained by your Father for the fulfilment of His will. Every day that dawns is as truly God's day as was the first one. Every night that draws its sable mantle over a silent world sets a seal to the knowledge of God who maketh the darkness. Behind the mighty forces and the ceaseless activities around us stands the Sovereign of them all. The hand of Him who never slumbers is on the levers. The earth is the Lord's, and His chosen portion is His people; and when "He changes the times and the seasons," He fits the one to the other. It is with some such thoughts as these that I send out a brief New Year's Greeting to my friends. I wish them a Happy New Year, because I feel that God has sent it, that He wills it to be a happy year--a good year: that in all the changes it may bring, He will be planning with highest benevolence for their truest welfare. Whether, therefore, it holds for them sorrow or joy, it will be a year of mercy, a year of grace, a year of love. "Blessed be God for ever and ever, for wisdom and might are His. He revealeth the deep and secret things. He knoweth what is in the darkness, and the light dwelleth with Him." Let us, then, go forward, and fear not. I. _Material Changes._ All things that touch the life of man are marked for change. As knowledge advances, and men come nearer to the secrets of the world in which they live, they find how true indeed it is, that man is but "a shadow dwelling in a world of shadows." Everything is changing--everything but God. The sun, the astronomers tell us, is burning itself away. "The mountains," say the geologists, "are not so high as they once were; their lofty summits are sliding down their sides year by year. The everlasting hills are only everlasting in a figure; for they, too, are crumbling day by day. The hardest rocks are softening into soil every season, and we are actually eating them up in our daily bread." The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands; They melt like mists, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go. The great ocean-currents are changing, and vast regions of the earth's surface are being changed with them, and Time is writing wrinkles on the whole world and all that is therein. But, above it all, I see One standing--my Unchanging God. "Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the works of Thine hands; they shall perish, but Thou remainest; and they all shall wax old as doth a garment, and as a vesture shalt Thou fold them up, and they shall be changed; but Thou art the same, and Thy years shall not fail." What a contrast there is between the Worker and His work, between the Creator and the creature! We see it in a thousand things; but in none is it so manifest for the wayfaring man, or written so large upon the fading draperies of time, as in this: "_They shall perish, but Thou remainest_." And greater changes yet seem to lie ahead. A universal instinct points to the time of the restitution of all things. "The whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together, waiting"--and it has been a long, weary waiting--"for deliverance." But the day of the Lord will come. "As the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto the west, so shall the coming of the Son of Man be." In his vision John saw, as it were, a picture of that final change. "Lo," he says, "there was a great earthquake, and the sun became black as sack-cloth of hair"--it looks as though the wise men who say it will burn itself out are right!--"and the moon became as blood; and the stars of heaven fell unto the earth, even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind. And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together; and every mountain and island were moved out of their places." What a combination of astounding catastrophes is here! Earth and stars are to meet in awful shock! Sun and moon to fail! Cloud and sky to disappear; the elements to melt with fervent heat--a world on fire! But, above it all, the Lamb that was slain will take His place upon the Throne--unmoved, unchanged, amidst the tumult of dissolving worlds. My God, my Saviour, in Thy unchanging love I put my trust:-- Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness My beauty are, my glorious dress; 'Midst flaming worlds, in these arrayed, With joy shall I lift up my head. II. _Changes of Association_. But far-reaching as are the changes in our material surroundings, those with which we have to battle in our personal associations are often as great, and are often much more painful. Indeed, man himself is the most changeable thing in all man's world. It is not merely that our companions and friends and loved ones die--the wind passeth over them, and they are gone, and the dear places that knew them know them no more--it is not merely this; nor is it that their circumstances change, that wealth becomes penury, that health is changed to weakness and suffering, and youth to age and decay--it is not merely this, but it is that _they_ change. The ardour of near friendship grows cold and fades away; the trust which once knew no limitations is narrowed down, and, by and by, walled in with doubts and fears; the comradeship which was so sweet and strong, and quickened us to great deeds, as "iron sharpeneth iron," is changed for other companionships; the love which seemed so deep and true, and was ready "to look on tempests" for us, becomes but a name and a memory, even if it does not change into a well of bitter waters in our lives. This fact of human mutability, this inherent changeableness in man, is the key to many of the darkest chapters of the world's history. The prodigal, the traitor, the vow-breaker, these have ever been far more fruitful sources of anguish and misery than the life-long rebel and law-breaker. The Psalmist touches the inner springs of sorrow when he says, "All that hate Me whisper together against Me; yea, Mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of My bread, hath lifted up his heel against Me." No one who has once read it can forget that revelation of the pent-up shame and agony in David's heart, which was voiced in his cry, "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!" The human heart probably fell to its lowest depth of ingratitude and sin when poor Judas changed sides and sold his Lord. What a change it was! Alas, alas, what a quagmire of uncertainties and shifting sand unsanctified human nature must be! Nay, _is_. I suppose that few of us have escaped some sorrowful experiences of this kind. Even to those who have not tasted the fruits of human fickleness in the great affairs of Christ's Kingdom, there has generally come some share of it into the more private relationships of life. In the home, in the family, or in the circle of friendship or comradeship, we have had to lament the failure of many tender hopes. But, blessed be the name of our God, who knoweth what is in the darkness, amidst the changing scenes we have found one Comfort. Above the strife of tongues, and over the stormy seas of sorrow, when, as Job said, even our kinsfolk have failed, and our familiar friends have forgotten us, there is borne to us the voice of One who sticketh closer than a brother, saying, "I am the Lord; I change not. With Me there is no variableness, neither the shadow of turning. I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." The more men change, the surer God will be; the more they forget, the more He will remember; the further they withdraw, the nearer He will come. III. _Personal Changes_. And we, ourselves, change also. As the years fly past, the most notable fact about us, perhaps, is the changes that are going on in our own experiences, our habits, our thoughts, our hopes, our conduct, our character. How much there was about us, only a few years ago, which has changed in the interval--nay, how much has grown different even since last New Year's Day! Indeed, might we not say of a great deal in us, which to-day is, that to-morrow it will be cast away for ever? Have you, my friend, not had to mourn over some strange changes? Has not your joy been often so quickly turned to sorrow that you have wondered how you yourself could be the same person? Has not some trifling circumstance often seemed to cloud your sky for days, darkening all the great lights in your heaven, so that your whole past, and present, and future have seemed different to you, and you stood in the stupor of astonishment at the gloomy change? Has not your zeal for souls been subject to like strange and unaccountable changes, so that the work you once thought impossible you have found easy; or the work you once delighted in, you now find hard, difficult, and barren? Has not your freedom in prayer, and your desire for it, wavered between this and that until you have not known what to think of yourself? Has not your perception of duty, and your devotion to it, at one time clear and strong, become at another so dim and feeble, that you have been utterly ashamed of your wobbling and cowardice, and amazed at your failure? And, most sorrowful of all, has not your love for your God and Saviour been up and down--shamefully down--so that when you have afterwards reflected on your coldness towards Him and His cause, you have been covered with confusion and astonishment at the fickleness of your own heart? And more than this. How great are the changes wrought in us by the curbing influence of time! How much that in youth and early manhood we meant to do, and could do, and did do, has to be laid down, or left to others, as our years approach the limits of their pilgrimage! I have known some men who, for this reason alone, did not desire to live beyond the years of strength and vigour--they preferred "to cease at once to work and live." The loss by death, or disappointments worse than death, of our friends and dear ones--what changes this also works! Unconsciously men narrow the sphere of their sympathies. The mainspring of life--love--grows slowly rusty for want of use, and from some hearts that were once true fountains of joy to those around them, the living water almost ceases to flow. Criticism, and fault-finding, and censoriousness too often take the place of generous labour for the welfare of the world. This may, no doubt, arise in part from the natural desire that others should profit by our past experiences, which renders us the more observant of their conduct the more we love. But, no matter what the cause, certain it is that within and without all seems to change. Is it not, then, a joy unspeakable that, amidst all this, whether we are or are not fully alive to the weakness, and variableness, and deceitfulness of our own hearts, we can look up to the ROCK that changeth NOT? In the darkest hour of disappointment with ourselves; in the depths of that miserable aftermath of sorrow and failure which follows all pride and foolish self-assertion; in the miry pit of condemnation and guilt in which sin always leaves the sinner, we can look up to Him whose power, whose grace, whose love is ever the same. Do you really believe it? There is a great hope in it for you if you do. High above all your changes, high above all the storms and disappointments that belong to them; high above all the wretched failure and doubting of the "do-the-best-I-can" life you are living, He lives to bless, to save, to uplift, to keep. Unnumbered multitudes, fighting their way to Him in spite of the timidities and wobblings, the "couldn'ts" and "wouldn'ts" of their own nature, have proved Him the Faithful and Unchanging God. Will not you? 
48370	----	Transcriber's Notes: Every effort has been made to reproduce the original text as printed. Sidenotes and footnotes in the original have been moved inline to follow applicable text. A SERMON PREACH'D Before the Right Honourable THE LORD-MAYOR, THE Aldermen and Citizens of _London_, AT THE _CATHEDRAL_ Church of St. _Paul_, On _Monday_ the 30th of _Jan._ 1709/10. BEING The ANNIVERSARY FAST for the _Martyrdom_ of King CHARLES the First. By _ANDREW SNAPE_, D. D. Chaplain to his Grace the Duke of _Somerset_, and Rector of St. _Mary at Hill_. _LONDON_: Printed for JONAH BOWYER, at the Sign of the _Rose_ in _Ludgate-Street_. 1710. _Garrard_, Mayor. _Martis_ vii. _die Februarii, 1709. Annoq; Regni Reginæ Annæ, Magnæ Britanniæ, &c. Octavo._ This Court doth desire Dr. _Snape_ to Print his Sermon, Preach'd at the Cathedral Church of St. _Paul_, before the Lord-Mayor, Aldermen and Citizens of this City, on _Monday_ the Thirtieth of _January_ last, being the Day of Humiliation for the Martyrdom of King _Charles_ the First. _GIBSON._ 1 KINGS, XXI. 9, 10. _Proclaim a Fast, and set_ Naboth _on high among the People_: _And set Two Men, Sons of _Belial_, before him, to bear Witness against him, saying, Thou didst blaspheme God and the King: and then carry him out and stone him, that he may die._ There is scarce any one Instance of the shedding innocent Blood recorded in Holy Scripture which has not at some time or other been apply'd to the Occasion of this Day's Solemnity, even that of our blessed Saviour not excepted, whose Steps we have with one Voice declar'd in the Service of the Church the blessed Martyr cheerfully to have follow'd. [Note: _2d Collect for the day._] But here indeed it concerns us to tread warily. We can only affirm of the greatest Saints and brightest Luminaries of the Church that they have made some faint Approaches toward that great Exemplar, without presuming to equal either the Merits or the Sufferings of any meer Man to those of our crucify'd Redeemer: in all other Parallels there is less Danger of Excess, since most of 'em will be found, in many Circumstances, to fall short of the Fact committed on this Day. Now altho' in such a comparative way of arguing, where we single out some remarkable Passage from the Records of past Ages, and adapt it, as far as it will naturally bear, to some After-Occurrence that has fall'n out nearer our own Times, it cannot be expected that both the Cases should be in all Respects exactly the same, without the least Variation, yet when we can point out some of the principal and Master-Strokes of each of 'em which have a near Resemblance of one another, when the Methods and Ways of Acting, the Motives and Inducements to it, with other concurrent Circumstances, are the same; this may be enough to justify the Choice of the Subject, and make it serve at least as a fair Introduction to the Matter in Debate. I mention this, because of one remarkable Disagreement, which you must needs have been before-hand with me in observing, between the Case of _Naboth_, and that of this Day's _Royal Sufferer_, who as he had Liv'd the Ornament, so Died the _Martyr_ of the _English_ Church and Monarchy: And that is, that in the former of 'em, an innocent Subject was Murder'd by a wicked King (or at least by his Instruments and Agents, not without his Approbation and Consent, as appear'd by his subsequent Behaviour, in seizing his Inheritance, as well as by his own Confession, when he submitted to the Prophet's Charge, and humbled himself for it) whereas in the latter, a just and pious King was depriv'd at once of his Crown and Life by wicked and rebellious Subjects. But there are other Resemblances between 'em, that will make Amends for this Disparity. And therefore I shall proceed. I. To draw a Parallel between the two Cases, and shew what is common to 'em both. II. To consider the Nature and Consequences of the Fact committed on this Day. And III. I shall conclude with one or two Moral Reflections. I. I am to draw a Parallel between the two Cases, and show what is common to 'em both. Here then we may observe, that the Persons compar'd were both good Men: Both were Murder'd with a pretended Show of Justice, and with Religious Solemnities: Both for the same Cause, because they would not part with _the Inheritance of their Fathers_: Neither of 'em suffer'd singly; but the Enemies of each extended their Malice to the whole Race of 'em. First I say they were both good Men. That _Naboth_ was so, we may very fairly conjecture from his Behaviour in the Matter of the Vineyard; and from the Severity of God's Wrath toward _Ahab_ and his Family, for unjustly putting him to Death. For altho' the Murder even of a wicked Man, either by false Accusation, or secret Treachery, is a very heinous and detestable Thing; (and that Life that is Forfeited to Justice by a thousand real Crimes, yet if innocent _quoad hoc_, and taken away by wicked Subornation, on weak and insufficient Evidence, for that which is not a Crime, or which was not committed, will derive a Sentence of Blood-guiltiness, nay of the Shedding innocent Blood, on the Contrivers and Actors in such an Execution;) yet we cannot suppose, that this is, in so excessive a Degree, provoking, or that it entails the Divine Vengeance on so many Generations, as when the Person Condemn'd is eminent for Piety and Vertue. If indeed we were to judge of Things by their first Appearance, the Carriage of _Naboth_ toward _Ahab_, in denying him his Vineyard, might seem to have been very Churlish and Undutiful, especially when offer'd a _better Vineyard_ in Exchange for it, or an equivolent in _Mony_. And the Kings condescending way of Address, when he thus expresses himself, _If it shall seem good to thee_, and _if it please thee_; might be thought to have deserv'd a better Answer than, _I will not give thee my Vineyard_. But we must consider on the other Hand, that the Thing which the King desir'd, was absolutely Unlawful, and expressly forbid by the Command of God; the smallest Ceremony of whose Appointment could not be dispens'd with. We may learn from _Lev._ 25. and _Num._ 36. how straitly the _Jews_ were enjoyn'd to look upon the Inheritance of their Fathers as Sacred: The very numerical Lands and Possessions were to be continually preserv'd in the respective Families to which they were allotted, and the present Occupants had no Power of totally alienating 'em, but only till they could be redeem'd by one of their Kin, and not so long as that, if a Year of _Jubilee_ should first happen, when all Things were to be restor'd as at the beginning: And even that temporary Alienation was not to be made, but under the Pressure of extreme Necessity, which it seems was not _Naboth_'s Case. So that he look'd on the Proposal, as a Thing he could not with a safe Conscience comply with, and therefore speaks, you see, with some Abhorrence of it, (tho' not altogether so bluntly as _Ahab_ repeated it to his Wife) _The Lord forbid it me, that I shou'd give the Inheritance of my Fathers unto thee_. From this I say, and the other Consideration before-mention'd, we may reasonably infer that _Naboth_ was a Man of Uprightness and Integrity; tho' the Scripture has distinguish'd him by no other Title, but that of _Naboth the Jesraelite_. But we have better Arguments than bare Conjectures and remote Conclusions to induce us to believe that our _Martyr'd Sovereign_ was highly deserving of this Character, of which we have all the Proof and Demonstration that 'tis possible for one Man to have of the Integrity of another. 'Tis true, God alone is an infallible Judge and Discerner of the Heart; _he_ only beholds with an unerring Eye the Uprightness or Obliquity of Human Thoughts and Intentions; and therefore none but he can absolutely and decisively pronounce of any Person, that he is either Holy and Sincere, or Wicked and Prophane. But we Men must form our Judgment from the outward Actions, and wheresoever we find a regular Conduct, where all the Duties to God and Man, as far as we can observe, are exactly and punctually discharg'd, where there are no visible Infractions of Divine or Human Laws, or none but such as may be imputed to Human Frailty; we are to look upon a Person so qualified as a Man of Probity and Vertue. This is no more than is due in _common Justice_. But _Christian Charity_ will oblige us yet farther, even where there are some suspicious Appearances, if the Character of the Person be in other Respects unblemish'd; to err (if we must err) on the better Side, and make a favourable Construction. This is Spoken at large, and not that there is any Occasion for this last Supposal, with Regard to the Subject I am upon: There being nothing in the Behaviour of that _excellent Prince_, that has so much as an indirect Aspect, nothing I mean that can affect his general Character. When I affirm this I consider him chiefly as a private Christian, for in his _Royal Capacity_ indeed, as we find him represented, by the designing Artifice of his malicious and restless Enemies, there are faulty Appearances enough. And yet the very Persons, who thus industriously blackned and defam'd him, and loaded him with so many unjust Reproaches on the Account of his _Regal Administration_; (which can never be so Excellent, as to give no Handle to the _Factious_, the _Guilty_, and the _Disappointed_, to censure and malign it, and will be always liable to Misconstruction, the Reasons of State being so Mysterious) yet cou'd never charge on him any gross Misbehaviour in Point of Moral Duty, any one habitual Vice, or indulg'd Passion, tho' they wanted not Means of prying into his most secret Commerce and private Correspondence, and nothing, we know, is so quick-sighted as Malice. His Devotion to God was regular and constant both in publick and in private, and that, not cold and formal, but with an ardent Zeal and enflam'd Affection. In the midst of the perplexing Cares that encompass a Throne, and with which _his_ Throne was peculiarly beset; he always found Leisure for the Exercises of Religion: He was never so dazl'd with the Splendor of an _Earthly_ Crown, as not to prefer before it a _Heavenly_ and _Immortal_ One: Nor was he ever unmindful of this important Truth, that as _his_ Subjects were accountable to _him_; (tho' in the End they quite inverted that Order) so was he himself to render an Account of _his_ Actions at a greater Tribunal before the King of Kings. In the midst of the highest Plenty, and all the Means of gratifying a sensual Appetite that _Royal Affluence_ cou'd Administer, he was remarkably Temperate, Chast and Sober. His Conjugal Affection has been even imputed as a _Crime_. He was an inviolable Observer of his Matrimonial Vow, a Vertue not _too common_ in the World, a very rare one indeed in _Princes_. Nor was he less eminent for Clemency and Justice, and a tender Regard for the Welfare of his Subjects. And if we consider him in the last Scene of his Life, in his Behaviour both before, and at the Scaffold; we may observe an admirable Composition of Christian Meekness, and Royal Grandeur, how under the extremest Pressures he wou'd never be prevail'd with, to do any thing unbecoming either the _Christian_ or the _King_. As he had Liv'd, he Died a true Professor of the purest reform'd Faith: And his Character has this Advantage, even from the _reproachful_ manner of his Death; that his last Declaration so publickly made in the Face of the World, was not capable of being denied, or misrepresented. Whereas had they dispatch'd him by Poyson or Assassination, or any other way of Murder, that had carried less of Pomp and Ostentation; the Accusation had been obvious, that he Died a _Papist_, which his Enemies would not have fail'd to have reported, and his Friends could not so convincingly have disprov'd. His admirable and instructing Legacy to his Children, his Praying for his Murderers, his patient Resignation to the Will of God, and indeed all the several Parts of his Deportment at that dismal Juncture; do conspire to raise in us the highest Esteem and Veneration for his Memory. And sure we may allow to one who was endu'd with so large a Share of Vertues, with so inconsiderable a Mixture of Defects, the Character and Denomination of a good Man. I mean, in a qualified Sense, for, in an absolute Sense, we know who has told us, there is none good but God. And this is one Point in which _Naboth_ and he agree. The next is, that they both were Murder'd with a pretended Show of Justice, and with Religious Solemnities. In order to _Naboth_'s Murder there was a _Fast Proclaim'd_, _a solemn Assembly call'd_, a formal Accusation forg'd, and suborn'd Witnesses produc'd. The principally intended Wickedness was thus usher'd in with a preparatory Combination of other Crimes; thus closely was the Train of Mischeif laid, by the Contrivance of wicked _Jezebel_; that _Hypocrisy_, _Perjury_ and _false Judgment_ should be the Prelude and Introduction to _Murder_. And was not this exactly the Case of our _Royal Sufferer_? Was there not a Day of _Humiliation_ appointed? Was not the nefarious Business in Agitation dignified with the specious Title of _the Lord's Work_? Did not the cheif Authors of that Cruelty pretend to be _seeking the Lord_, whilst their Instruments were embruing their Hands in the Blood of the _Lord's Anointed_. How horribly did they profane the Name of God, whilst they invok'd him, as Accessary to their Bloody Machinations, and besought him to strengthen their Hands in that diabolical Work! How wretchedly did they pervert his Word, which teaches all Obedience and Reverence to Princes; whilst even from those sacred Writings they would pretend to justify not only the highest Insolence and Contempt, but even the actual Murder of his _Lawful Vice-gerent_! To how base Purposes were the Ordinances of Religion prostituted, whilst they fasted for the Success of that impious Act, which it requires a perpetual Fast to deprecate the Guilt of: And _made long Prayers_ only _for a Pretense_, when they were making a Royal Widow, and devouring Houses and Lands, stately Palaces, and Princely Revenues with insatiable Greediness! How ill did it accord with their profest Purity and Godliness, after they had strain'd at so many Gnats, to swallow such a Camel! Could they, in Reality, have been held by any Religious Ties, they would have paid some Regard, if not to the general Precepts of Obedience, if not to the former Oaths of Allegiance they had taken; yet at least to their own _Solemn League and Covenant_, that precious Test of Disloyalty, they so eagerly contended for, and which they had contriv'd as a Snare for others, whilst, thro' the Deadness of their Consciences, they were unrestrain'd themselves. Even _that Engagement_, rebellious as it was, provided for the Security of the King's Person, which they were bound, by all that was Sacred, to protect and defend; and consequently the putting him to Death, besides all the other bad Circumstances, was an Act of the most _deliberate Perjury_ that ever was committed. But as if something was still wanting to fill up the Measure of their complicated Impiety; they added Hypocrisy to the rest, gave a Religious Turn to their execrable Proceedings, and in the Depth of all this Mischeif, pretended a Zeal for God's Glory, and to have nothing so much at Heart, as promoting the Purity of his Worship. Nor was _Piety_ the only false Pretence, they wou'd make a show of _Justice_ too: They would seem to do that by _Law_, which was an open Violation of all the Laws both of God and Man. To this End was erected a Mock-Tribunal of Self-created Judges, who by Vertue of that usurp'd and imaginary Authority, presum'd to set before 'em as a Criminal, their unquestionably rightful Sovereign. They had false Witnesses, _Sons of Belial_, ready at hand to have born their Testimony against him, and to have charg'd him with such Things, as he not only, in Fact, was clear of, but which he was not capable of committing. _Naboth_ indeed might, 'tho' he did not, have Curs'd _God and the King_. [Note: So the Hebrew Verb should be rendred here, as it is elsewhere. The _Arabick_ and _Chaldee_ express it by two different Words. Thou didst _Blaspheme_ God, and _Curse_ the King.] There were really such Offences, tho' there was no such Offender. Whereas in the Case of our Martyr'd Prince, the Crime its self was as Fictitious as the Personal Charge. He not only was not, but cou'd not be guilty of that Treason they accus'd him of, since by our known Constitution, it was against himself only that any Treason cou'd be committed. We find in no Records the mention of such a Crime, as the _Lese-Majesty of the People_, nor that the cruellest Tyrants were ever tax'd with being _Rebels_ to their own Subjects. 'Tis possible for 'em to Misgovern, to subvert Fundamentals, to abuse their Trust, or to forsake it, and drive the People to a Necessity of transferring their Allegiance (of which our own Times have furnish'd us with an Instance:) But they can never be guilty of _Treason_, nor suffer the Punishment of _Traytors_. When therefore the good King disown'd this illegal Judicature, and refus'd (as he well might) to Plead his Cause before 'em; they still went on with a Mask of Justice, and in Mock-Representation of a legal Process, to Sentence and Condemn him, and Sign a Bloody Warrant for his Execution. Another Thing in which his Case does nearly resemble that of _Naboth_ is, that they both were Murder'd for the same Cause, because they wou'd not part with the _Inheritance of their Fathers_. _Naboth_ might have compounded for his _Life_, by relinquishing his _Vineyard_, nay he might have had an equivalent too. But as he conceiv'd himself bound in Conscience, religiously to preserve his original Patrimony, he was under an unhappy Necessity of making such a Refusal, as brought him to that untimely End. And the Desire of his _Inheritance_ was the Motive that induc'd our unnatural Country-men, to take away the Life of their Lawful King. The Inherent-Rights and Prerogtiaves of the Crown, which his Royal Predecessors had uncontestably enjoy'd, thro' a Succession of many Ages, were one after another disputed with _him_, and in the End violently extorted. What he cou'd depart from, with safety to his Conscience and Honour, he gave 'em, by a voluntary Consent, to preserve the Quiet of his Kingdom; but when he perceiv'd that nothing wou'd content 'em; (their Demands still rising, as his Concessions were larger) he adher'd with a steddy Resolution to those Branches of Power, which he judg'd to be inseparable from the Royal Dignity, and parted with them and his Life together. Before they had thus compass'd their wicked Ends, and were become Masters of all without Controul, whilst there was yet the Appearance and Shadow of Kingly Government, and nothing cou'd be valid without the Royal Sanction; even then, tho' they left him the _Name_, they arrogated to themselves the _Power_. With what repeated Importunities did they Daily tear from him his most trusted and faithful Servants, under the Character of _Evil Counsellors_, and thrust into his Presence and Councils, their own Mercenary Creatures, Men of notorious Faction and Disloyalty, the profest Haters both of his Person and Authority, as the only Men to be _confided_ in! How justly might he have answer'd their haughty and unreasonable Demands (for such in Effect were their _humble Petitions_) in the Words of the wisest of Princes (when a very improper Application was made to him, in behalf of one, who had so little Pretension to _Favour_, that _Impunity_ was more than he had deserv'd) _Ask for him the Kingdom also_. [Note: _1 Kings_ 2. 22.] They wanted, in short, such a Power as should create Dependencies on _them_, and tie fast to their Service such Instruments of Mischeif as they should have Occasion to make use of. And not to descend to all the several Branches of Royalty, 'twas Dominion and Government they aim'd at; an Affectation of Lording and Ruling it, was the real Ground of their seditious Outcries (as the Event sufficiently show'd) however they varnish'd over their Designs with more plausible Pretences. Once more, we may observe another Resemblance between these two Innocent Persons, in that neither of 'em suffer'd _singly_, but the Enemies of each extended their Malice to the _whole Race_ of 'em. Tho' the History now before us is silent as to _Naboth_'s _Family_, and only relates what befel him in his own _Person_; yet we may learn from _2 Kings_ 9. 26. what became of 'em. _Surely I have seen Yesterday the Blood of _Naboth_, and the Blood of his Sons, saith the Lord, and I will requite thee in this Plat._ It cannot, I confess, be equally affirm'd, with relation to our Martyr'd Sovereign, that the Blood of _his Sons_ too calls for Vengeance, _that_ only Stream of Royal Blood having been Spilt, that ran within his own Veins. But tho' they escap'd with Life, (no Thanks to the Usurpers of their Inheritance that they did so) yet were they devested of their just Rights, which none of 'em had then done any thing to forfeit, driven into Exile, branded with Names of Infamy and Reproach, and declar'd _Traytors_ and _Rebels_ themselves, as well as their Abettors and Adherents. Having said thus much by way of Parallel, give me leave to conclude the Comparison between these two Innocents, as I first introduc'd it, with taking Notice of one other material Difference between the two Histories. _Naboth_'s Murderer, tho' _above_ the Reach of _human_ Justice, saw, and confess'd, and bewail'd his Guilt, and humbled himself so effectually before God, that the Vengeance he requir'd for that _innocent Blood_ (for _innocent Blood_ will be aveng'd, nor is it any Security to us, that it was not shed by _us_, or in _our Days_) was not immediately taken, but postpon'd till another Generation. But the _Royal Murderers_ show'd _no_ Remorse. The _Regicides_ of _this Day_ continu'd to the last Inflexible and Obdurate: Their Hearts were so hardned by the just Judgment of God for their accumulated Wickedness; that even those of 'em who, by his peculiar Providence, were reserv'd for _publick Justice_, were so far from any Signs of Repentance, that they even _Gloried_ in the inhuman Deed. I come now in the II. Place to consider the _Nature and Consequences_ of the Fact committed on this Day. The _Nature_ of it may be in a great Measure judg'd, from what has been already said. But farther to convince us of the enormous Guilt of it, let us take it, as attended with the following Circumstances. For a Sovereign and _Hereditary Monarch_ (it was then an _Hereditary Monarchy_ sure) after many other previous Outrages and Affronts, to be brought to the Bar, as a _common Malefactor_, and that before a pretended _High-Court_ compos'd of his own _Subjects_, surrounded with a Guard of his own _Soldiers_, to be Arraign'd of _Treason_, to be Sentenc'd to _Death_, and Executed on a _Scaffold_, in his _Capital City_, and before the Walls of his own _Palace_: And all this to gratify the Ambition or Revenge of a few turbulent Spirits, whilst a far greater Number, who disapprov'd of that rigorous Extremity, cou'd yet be contented to stand by as unconcern'd Spectators, and suffer the bloody Tragedy to be Acted, without offering to interpose, or stirring to the Rescue of their Prince: The Fact I say thus circumstantiated, is not to be equal'd in any History, by which Majesty its self, as well as the Person of the King, was so outragiously insulted. And that all this should be done in a Kingdom, _by the undoubted and fundamental Laws_ whereof (I speak in the very Words of a Law, made indeed since the horrid Fact, but made, not to constitute, but recognize this _Essential Prerogative_, as antecedently inherent in the Crown, that) _neither the Peers of the Realm, nor the Commons, nor both together, in Parliament, or out of Parliament, nor the People Collectively, nor Representatively, nor any other Persons whatsoever, ever had, have, or ought to have any coercive Power over the Persons of the Kings of the Realm_. [Note: Stat. 12. _Car._ 2. Ch. 30. §. 7.] And if no such Authority was lodg'd with the _whole Body_ of Subjects, how much less cou'd it be claim'd by that _inconsiderable Remnant_ of one House, which without the Concurrence of the other, and whilst the far greater Part of its own Members were kept out by Force of Arms; had the Confidence to usurp the venerable Name of _Parliament_. Never was that _happy Part_ of our _Constitution_, that _Necessary Fence_ against _Arbitrary Rule_, and Bulwark of English Laws and Liberties, so reproachfully perverted. Never were the People of _England_ so untruly said to be represented: which they no more were, by the corrupt Refuse of that Assembly; than the _Catholic Church_ was fairly represented in the pretended _Council_ of _Trent_, where only those cou'd be admitted, who were the known Favorers of the _Pope's Supremacy_, and who wou'd be sure to do his Work effectually. But let us suppose they had a Power over his Person, and withal that he had misemploy'd his Regal Administration as much as some have represented him to have done; let us take all for Truth that inveterate Malice, or factious Prejudice has endeavour'd to fasten on him; even these Provocations were far from sufficient to justify so extravagant a Remedy as the shedding of his Blood. Much less when they liv'd under so mild a Government, and a Prince so tender of the Rights and Liberties of his Subjects as he naturally was in his own Temper. I pretend not to deny that, even in _his_ Reign, there were some just Causes of Complaint, some real Grievances, some unwarrantable Impositions and unjustifiable Demands. Princes are but Men, and fallible like other Men, nor is it any great Wonder if the best of 'em mistake the Extent of their Prerogative, when persuaded into an undue Opinion of it, by those that shou'd advise 'em better. But how easily might those Greivances have been set right in Time, had not the rough and undutiful Manner in which the Redress of 'em was sought, made him believe for a time there were none that needed it. But when once he was convinc'd of their Reality, how willingly did he redress 'em all, and more than all, that cou'd with any show of Justice be complain'd of, or be thought to deserve the Name of Hardships! How often might Things have been brought to a better Temper, and the unhappy Breach accommodated, had not their own Obstinacy prevented it, whom no Degree of Royal Condescension would satisfie or appease; but his Blood they _would have_, and his Blood they _had_: The Guilt whereof has ever since lay heavy on this sinful Nation, and even now calls for our deepest Humiliation, to deprecate that Vengeance of Almighty God, which might justly be inflicted on the _remote Posterity_ of the Actors in that _unnatural Parricide_. He has abundantly testified his Displeasure at it, by many bad and mischeivous _Consequences_ it has produc'd, some of which we still smart under, tho' not the first I am going to mention, which is The Confusion of those Times that immediately ensu'd. The miserable State of _Anarchy_ to which this unhappy Country was reduc'd, after the Extirpation of the _Royal Family_, may be a Warning to all querulous Innovators, who are never contented with the present State of Things. They compass'd their Wish at last, and had the Satisfaction of seeing both _Kingly and Episcopal Government_ at once abolish'd, and themselves, (as they suppos'd) in a State of _religious and civil Liberty_. But did they enjoy that _Liberty_ any otherwise than in Name? Did it not cost 'em much dearer to maintain their _new Lords_ in their ill-gotten _Tyranny_, than ever it had done to supply the Exigencies of their _lawful Prince_? Was the Freedom of _Parliament_, and Right of _Elections_ more inviolably kept? Were they less under the Terror of an _armed Force_? Were there fewer _Executions_, _Fines_ and _Imprisonments_? Was the Course of the _Law_ more free and undisturb'd, or _Justice_ more equitably and impartially Administer'd? Were the _Taxes_ more moderate, the _Loans_ of Money less constrain'd, or the _Public Faith_ (when no Body knew what or where the _Public_ was) a better Security for what was lent, than before this violent Convulsion of the State. No. The Reverse of all this is notoriously true, if there be any Truth in History. They dream't and rav'd of Oppression before, but they were then opprest in Earnest. They were before chastis'd with imaginary Whips, but then with real Scorpions. And surely it was a just Judgment of God upon 'em for their Inconstancy of Temper, and Eagerness for a Change, that when once they had shaken off their just Allegiance, and chose new Masters for themselves, they were afterwards forc'd to be perpetually changing, and cou'd find no Power that was able to protect 'em long, but saw more Turns and Revolutions in the Compass of a few Months, than had happen'd in a Thousand Years before. New Schemes and Models of Government were daily Fashion'd, some of which died in _Embryo_, others made a Blaze for a short Time, but no sooner had they turn'd themselves to the new-started Light, in hopes to be warm'd and directed by it, but the Airy Meteor disappear'd. 'Twas a common Thing then to see Servants on Horseback, whilst Princes walk'd on Foot, to see the meanest of the People in the highest Places; and one might have seen _Jotham_'s Parable exactly verified, when instead of the _Fatness of the Olive_, and the _Fruitfulness of the Vine_; the Supreme Dominion was invested in the despicable, the useless, the hurtful _Brambles_. Then as to _Spirituals_. Did the _Authors_ of those Troubles find their Account in 'em? Were they able at last quietly to Establish their own Way of Worship, and had they not many contending Rivals? Were not their own Complaints against the Hierarchy, of _taking too much upon 'em_, _imposing_ on the _Lord's People_, and depriving 'em of their _Christian Liberty_, return'd upon themselves? Was there a greater Advancement of Piety, whilst the _Sacrament_ was rarely Administer'd, the Catechizing of Youth exceedingly neglected, and almost all Religion resolv'd into _Hearing_? Was there a greater _Liberty of Conscience_, when the prevailing Sect for the Time Condemn'd the _Toleration_ of the rest as _Anti-christian_? ----_En quo Discordia Cives Perduxit miseros!_ _These_ were the _Blessed_ Fruits of _Discord_ and _Rebellion_. _This_ was the Price of over-turning a legally and peacably settled Constitution. As another bad Effect (but God be prais'd that's over too) of this Day's Cruelty, may be reckon'd the imminent Danger we were in, not many Years since, of the Return of _Popish Superstition_ into this Nation, to which, in all human Probability, the greatest Part of it had in a little time relaps'd, had not Providence defeated the Designs that were form'd against our Holy Religion, by the late _Happy Revolution_. That very Danger, I say, of _Popery_, may be imputed, in its Original, to those who, by Banishing the _Royal Progeny_, and obliging 'em to fly for shelter to the Court of a _Popish Prince_, expos'd 'em to the utmost Temptation of changing the Religion of the Country they had left, for that of the Place where they were Entertain'd. It did, in Fact, so happen, that they were earnestly solicited to that Effect, and one of 'em, we know, (and we had like to have known it at too dear a Rate) unhappily complied with the Temptation. But there are some ill Consequences of that great Rebellion, that still affect us, and particularly the unhappy Divisions that reign among us. 'Tis a sad and deplorable Thing indeed, that Men who are Professors of the same Religion, who have the same Political Obligations, who are bound by all the Ties both of Interest and Duty to direct their Designs and Actions to the same End, should notwithstanding, fly into such opposite Extremes, and brand each other with such opprobrious Names. Such Jealousies and Surmises, such _Names of Distinction_, and forming of _Parties_, were the fatal Beginnings of that _Intestine War_, which depopulated and laid Wast this flourishing Kingdom, and ended in the _Murder_ of the _Sovereign_, and the total overthrow of all orderly Government both in Church and State. And that Spirit of Division which then began to Reign has never since been totally ejected. Add to this, that many loose Principles as to _Government_, were then imbib'd, of which it were much to be wish'd, there were no Tincture still remaining. And (which is worst of all) it is too certain that the Pretences to a more than ordinary Sanctity, and the great Apperance of Godliness in such Numbers of Men, who yet, when the Mask was off, were found to be wicked to the last Degree, and to have acted by no Principles but _Iuterest_ and _Ambition_; gave an unhappy Disgust to many Observers of their Conduct, against all that favor'd of Piety and Goodness, and rais'd an unjust suspicion in 'em, that all Religion was counterfeit, that whoever went under the Character of a _devout Person_, was only acting a Part, in order to deceive. Thus were the Seeds of _Atheism_ and _Irreligion_ sown, which have since thriven but too well, and yielded a very ungracious Encrease. 1. To the same Cause too we may ascribe almost all our Differences in Religion. We can call upon all the Persuasions but one, who enjoy the Benefit of the _Toleration_, (and may it ever be enjoy'd by Consciences truly tender) to look back to those unhappy Times for their first Original, and see, in the midst of how much Licenciousness and Disorder they were propagated, and began to spread. I shall only crave your farther Patience, while I apply what has been said in two short moral Reflections, both which I shall take from the concluding Prayer in the Service for the Day, where we beseech God, _that neither the splendor of any thing that is great, nor the Conceit of any thing that is good in us, may any ways withdraw our Eyes from looking on our selves as sinful Dust and Ashes_. 1. Then, from the tragical Event of this Day, we may observe the _Uncertainty_ of all _Human State and Grandeur_. Of how short Continuance, and consequently of how little Value is the most glittering Pomp, that attracts our vain Eyes, and strikes us with Admiration! Of how slippery a Tenure must _lesser_ Dignities and Honours be, if _Majesty_ it self be so insecure! How little is the Condition of Princes to be envied, who have often Occasion to envy the Quiet and Repose of the meanest of their Subjects, who can Sleep securely, whilst _they_ are waking and caring for 'em! They are equally expos'd to Pain and Sickness, to Infirmity and Diseases; they lye as open to a natural, and much _more_ open to a violent Death. _Plots_ and _Conspiracies_, _Assassinations_ and _Poysonings_ are Accidents peculiar to the _Royal List_ of Mortality, and seldom bring a Subject to his End. Nor is the _Fame_ of Princes less liable to Injury, than their _Persons_. Calumny dares even assault the _Throne_, and fears not to trample on _Regal Sepulchers_. There is none so great and inaccessible, as to be out of the Reach of that intruding Monster; who will blacken and sully the clearest Fame, turn the brightest Ornaments and Beauties into Deformities, detract from the most Heroical and Princely Vertues, and transform, to the Appearance of such as see by her Glass, a good _Josiah_ into a wicked _Jeroboam_. And as the most conspicuous _Greatness_ is no Preservative against the common Calamities of the World, so neither 2. Is the most eminent _Goodness_. Tryals and Afflictions are the common Lot of Mortality, and every Man, more or less must sustain his Share of 'em. In this, the Righteous and Wicked fare alike, nor can a Man judge of Love or Hatred by all that is before him. There are indeed many Passages of Scripture, that encourage a good Man to expect even the Blessings of this Life, and ordinarily Speaking, he does actually enjoy 'em, at least in a contented Mind and quiet Conscience, which comprehends 'em all. But we are to look upon these Passages, as moral Observations, not as absolute Promises: That according to the most rational, most probable, most natural Event, such temporal Blessings would be allotted to good Men, not that each particular good Man should be possess'd of every one of 'em, for that would be in some Measure, to have his Portion here. All this is beside our Contract with God. The Reward there stipulated, is the _Kingdom of Heaven_, and if he does think fit to _add these Things unto us_, and to enlarge our Portion, by the Accession of some external good Things, 'tis over and above our covenanted Recompence. But whatever the Lot may be of a righteous Man here on _Earth_, he will be sure of his Reward in a _better Place_, in those Regions of endless Bliss and Glory, where the _Blessed Martyr_, whom we this Day Commemorate, we may Charitably presume, is now adorn'd with that _Crown of Life_, which he Purchas'd by his constant _Perseverance unto Death_. _FINIS._ _BOOKS Printed for, and sold by_ Jonah Bowyer, _at the Rose in_ Ludgate-street, _near the West-End of St._ Paul_'s Church._ Fourteen Sermons, preach'd on several Occaosins, together with a large Vindication of the Doctrine contain'd in the Sermon preach'd at the Funeral of Mr. _Thomas Bennet_. By _Francis Atterbury_, D. D. Dean of Dean of _Carlisle_, Preacher at the _Rolls_, and Chaplain in Ordinary to her Majesty. Not included in the said Volume; a Spittal Sermon preach'd at St. _Bridget_'s Church, before the Right Honourable the Lord-Mayor, _&c._ _Concio ad Clerum Londinensem, habita in Ecclesia S. Elphegi, Maij 17. 1709._ _A Francisco Atterbury_, S. T. P. _Carliolensis Ecclesiæ Decano, & Regiæ Majestati a Sacris Domesticis._ _Sancti Patris nostri Joannis Chrysostomi Archiepiscopi Constantinopolitani de Sercerdotio Libri_ VI. _accessere Dissertationes quædam Promiales de Dignitate Sacerdotali, item S. Chrysostomi Vita e Celeber. Cavij Historia Litteraria desumpta. Adornavit, Præfationemq; adjecit Joannes Hughes_, A. M. _Collegij Jesu apud Cantabrigienses Socius. Cantabrigiæ Typis Academicis._ Instructions for the Education of a Daughter, by the Author of _Temelachus_. To which is added a small Tract of Instructions for the Conduct of young Ladies of the highest Rank, with suitable Devotions annex'd. Done into _English_, and revis'd by Dr. _Geo. Hicks_: The second Edition. The glorious Descent, or the Blessings of the Holy Ghost, represented in thre Discourses on St. _John_, vi. 7. Lately preach'd at _Triploe_ near _Cambridge_. To which are added, three other Sermons, Two on the Feast of _Easter_; and, one on the Nativity of our Lord. By _Edmund Brome_, B. D. and Fellow of St. _John_'s College in _Cambridge_, being improv'd with Notes and Enlargements. An Account of the Earl of _Peterboroughs_ Conduct in _Spain_, chiefly since the Raising the Seige of _Barcelona_, 1706. To which is added the Campagne of _Valencia_. With Original Papers. The second Edition corrected. _Epicteti Enchiridion_, made _English_, in a Poetical Phrase. By _Ellis Walker_, M. A. A Sermon preach'd at the Anniversary Meeting of the Sons of the Clergy, in the Cathedral Church of St. _Paul_, on _Thursday, Dec. 2. 1708_. By _Phillip Basse_, D. D. A Sermon Preach'd before the Sons of the Clergy, at their _Anniversary-Meeting_ in the Church of St. _Paul_, _Dec. 6. 1709_. By _Francis Atterbury_, D. D. Preacher at the _Rolls_, Dean of _Carlisle_, and Chaplain in Ordinary to Her Majesty. To which are annex'd, An _Abstract_ of the _Charter_, erecting the _Corporation_; and a True Account of the _Sums_, distributed sinee its Erection. _Just Publish'd_ A True State of the Case of the Reverend Mr. _Greenshields_, now Prisoner in the _Tolbooth_ in _Edenburgh_, For Reading _Common-Prayer_, in an _Episcopal Congregation_ there; tho' qualify'd by taking the _Oaths_, and praying for the _Queen_ and Princess _Sophia_. With Copies of several Original Papers relating to his _Accusation_, _Defense_, _Imprisonment_, and _Appeal_, first to the Lords of the Session in _North-Britain_, and since to the House of Lords. 
33340	----	Weighed and Wanting Addresses on the Ten Commandments BY D. L. MOODY "Tekel: Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting." Fleming H. Revell Company Chicago : New York : Toronto Publishers of Evangelical Literature _Copyright, 1898, by The Bible Institute Colportage Association_. Contents The Ten Commandments Weighed in the Balances The First Commandment The Second Commandment The Third Commandment The Fourth Commandment The Fifth Commandment The Sixth Commandment The Seventh Commandment The Eighth Commandment The Ninth Commandment The Tenth Commandment The Handwriting Blotted Out THE TEN COMMANDMENTS. _EXODUS 20: 3-17_. I. Thou shalt have no other gods before me. II. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate Me; and shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love Me, and keep My commandments. III. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh His name in vain. IV. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work: but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates: for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day; wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and hallowed it. V. Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. VI. Thou shalt not kill. VII. Thou shalt not commit adultery. VIII. Thou shalt not steal. IX. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour. X. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's. Weighed in the Balances In the fifth chapter of Daniel we read the history of King Belshazzar. One chapter tells us all we know about him. One short sight of his career is all we have. He bursts in upon the scene and then disappears. THE EASTERN FEAST. We are told that he made a great feast to a thousand of his lords, and drank wine before them. In those days a feast would sometimes last for six months in Eastern countries. How long this feast had been going on we are not told, but in the midst of it, he "commanded to bring the golden and silver vessels which his father Nebuchadnezzar had taken out of the temple which was in Jerusalem; that the king, and his princes, his wives, and his concubines, might drink therein. Then they brought the golden vessels that were taken out of the temple of the house of God which was at Jerusalem; and the king, and his princes, his wives, and his concubines, drank in them. They drank wine, and praised the gods of gold, and of silver, of brass, of iron, of wood, and of stone." While this impious act was being committed, "in the same hour came forth fingers of a man's hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaister of the wall of the king's palace; and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote." We are not told at what hour of the day or the night it happened. Perhaps it was midnight. Perhaps nearly all the guests were more or less under the influence of drink; but they were not so drunk but that they suddenly became sober as they saw something that was supernatural--a handwriting on the wall, right over the golden candlestick. Every face turned deathly pale. "The king's countenance was changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so that the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote one against another." In haste he sent for his wisest men to come and read that handwriting on the wall. They came in one after another, and tried to make it out; but they could not interpret it. The king promised that whoever could read it should be made the third ruler in the kingdom; that he should have gifts, and that a gold chain should be put round his neck. But the wise men tried in vain. The king was greatly troubled. At last, in the midst of the consternation, the queen came in, and she told the monarch, if he would only send for one who used to interpret the dreams of Nebuchadnezzar, he could read the writing and tell him the interpretation thereof. So Daniel was sent for. He was very familiar with it. He knew his Father's handwriting. "This is the writing that was written, _Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin_. This is the interpretation of the thing: _Mene_--God hath numbered thy kingdom and finished it. _Tekel_--Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting. _Peres_--Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and Persians." If some one had told the king an hour before that the time had come when he must step into the balances and be weighed, he would have laughed at the thought. But the vital hour had come. The weighing was soon over. The verdict was announced, and the sentence carried out. "In that night was Belshazzar the king of the Chaldeans slain, and Darius the Median took the kingdom." Darius and his army came marching down those streets. There was a clash of arms. Shouts of war and victory rent the air. That night the king's blood mingled with the wine of the banquet hall. Judgment came upon him unexpectedly, suddenly: and probably ninety-nine out of every hundred judgments come in this way. Death comes upon us unexpectedly; it comes upon us suddenly. Perhaps you say: "I hope Mr. Moody is not going to compare me with that heathen king." I tell you that a man who does evil in these Gospel days is far worse than that king. We live in a land of Bibles. You can get the New Testament for a nickel, and if you haven't got a nickel you can get it for nothing. Many societies will be glad to give it to you free. We live in the full blaze of Calvary. We live on this side of the cross, but Belshazzar lived more than five hundred years on the other side. He never heard of Jesus Christ. He never heard about the Son of God. He never heard about God except, perhaps, in connection with his father's remarkable vision. He probably had no portion of the Bible, and if he had, probably he didn't believe it. He had no godly minister to point him to the Lamb of God. Don't tell me that you are better than that king. I believe that he will rise in judgment and condemn many of us. All this happened long centuries ago. Let us get down to this century, to this year, to ourselves. We will come to the present time. Let us imagine that now, while I am preaching, down come some balances from the throne of God. They are fastened to the very throne itself. It is a throne of equity, of justice. You and I must be weighed. I venture to say this would be a very solemn audience. There would be no trifling. There would be no indifference. No one would be thoughtless. Some people have their own balances. A great many are making balances to be weighed in. But after all we must be weighed in God's balances, the balances of the sanctuary. It is a favorite thing with infidels to set their own standard, to measure themselves by other people. But that will not do in the Day of Judgment. Now we will use God's law as a balance weight. When men find fault with the lives of professing Christians, it is a tribute to the law of God. "Tekel." It is a very short text. It is so short I am sure you will remember it: and that is my object, just to get people to remember God's own Word. GOD'S HANDWRITING. Let me call your attention to the fact that God wrote on the tables of stone at Sinai as well as on the wall of Belshazzar's palace. These are the only messages to men that God has written with His own hand. He wrote the commandments out twice, and spoke them aloud in the hearing of Israel. If it were known that God Himself was going to speak once again to man, what eagerness and excitement there would be. For nearly nineteen hundred years He has been silent. No inspired message has been added to the Bible for nearly nineteen hundred years. How eagerly all men would listen if God should speak once more. Yet men forget that the Bible is God's own Word, and that it is as truly His message to-day as when it was delivered of old. The law that was given at Sinai has lost none of its solemnity. Time cannot wear out its authority or the fact of its authorship. I can imagine some one saying--"I won't be weighed by that law. I don't believe in it." Now men may cavil as much as they like about other parts of the Bible, but I have never met an honest man that found fault with the Ten Commandments. Infidels may mock the Lawgiver and reject Him who has delivered us from the curse of the law, but they can't help admitting that the commandments are right. Renan said that they are for all nations, and will remain the commandments of God during all the centuries. If God created this world, He must make some laws to govern it. In order to make life safe we must have good laws; there is not a country the sun shines upon that does not possess laws. Now this is God's law. It has come from on high, and infidels and skeptics have to admit that it is pure. Legislatures nearly all over the world adopt it as the foundation of their legal systems. "The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul: the testimony of the Lord is pure, making wise the simple: the statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart: the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes." Now the question for you and me is--are we keeping these commandments? Have we fulfilled all the requirements of the law? If God made us, as we know He did, He had a right to make that law; and if we don't use it aright it would have been better for us if we had never had it, for it will condemn us. We shall be found wanting. The law is all right, but are we right? AN INFIDEL'S TESTIMONY. It is related of a clever infidel that he sought an acquaintance with the truths of the Bible, and began to read at the books of Moses. He had been in the habit of sneering at the Bible, and in order to be able to refute arguments brought by Christian men, he made up his mind, as he knew nothing about it, to read the Bible and get some idea of its contents. After he had reached the Ten Commandments, he said to a friend: "I will tell you what I _used_ to think. I supposed that Moses was the leader of a horde of banditti; that, having a strong mind, he acquired great influence over a superstitious people; and that on Mount Sinai he played off some sort of fireworks to the amazement of his ignorant followers, who imagined in their fear and superstition that the exhibition was supernatural. I have been looking into the _nature_ of that law. I have been trying to see whether I could add anything to it, or take anything from it, so as to make it better. Sir, I cannot! It is perfect! The first commandment directs us to make the Creator the object of our supreme love and reverence. That is right. If He be our Creator, Preserver, and Supreme Benefactor, we ought to treat Him, and _none other_, as such. The second forbids idolatry. That certainly is right. The third forbids profanity. The fourth fixes a time for religious worship. If there be a God, He ought surely to be worshipped. It is suitable that there should be an outward homage significant of our inward regard. If God be worshipped, it is proper that some _time_ should be set apart for that purpose, when all may worship Him harmoniously, and without interruption. One day in seven is certainly not too much, and I do not know that it is too little. The fifth commandment defines the peculiar duties arising from family relations. Injuries to our neighbor are then _classified_ by the moral law. They are divided into offences against life, chastity, property, and character; and I notice that the greatest offence in each class is expressly forbidden. Thus the greatest injury to life is murder; to chastity, adultery; to property, theft; to character, perjury. Now the greatest offence must include the least of the same kind. Murder must include every injury to life; adultery every injury to purity; and so of the rest. And the moral code is closed and perfected by a command forbidding every improper _desire_ in regard to our neighbors. I have been thinking, Where did Moses get that law? I have read history. The Egyptians and the adjacent nations were idolaters; so were the Greeks and Romans; and the wisest or best Greeks or Romans never gave a code of morals like this. Where did Moses obtain that law, which surpasses the wisdom and philosophy of the most enlightened ages? He lived at a period comparatively barbarous; but he has given a law in which the learning and sagacity of all subsequent time can detect no flaw. Where did he obtain it? He could not have soared so far above his age as to have devised it himself. I am satisfied where he obtained it. It came down from heaven. It has convinced me of the truth of the religion of the Bible." The infidel, (now an infidel no longer), remained to his death a firm believer in the truth of Christianity. We call it the "Mosaic" Law, but it has been well said that the commandments did not originate with Moses, nor were they done away with when the Mosaic Law was fulfilled in Christ, and many of its ceremonies and regulations abolished. We can find no trace of the existence of any lawmaking body in those early times, no parliament or congress that built up a system of laws. It has come down to us complete and finished, and the only satisfactory account is that which tells us that God Himself wrote the commandments on tables of stone. BINDING TO-DAY. Some people seem to think we have got beyond the commandments. What did Christ say? "Think not that I am come to destroy the law and the prophets; I am not come to destroy but to fulfil. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled." The commandments of God given to Moses in the Mount at Horeb are as binding to-day as ever they have been since the time when they were proclaimed in the hearing of the people. The Jews said the law was not given in Palestine, (which belonged to Israel), but in the wilderness, because the law was for all nations. Jesus never condemned the law and the prophets, but He did condemn those who did not obey them. Because He gave new commandments it does not follow that He abolished the old. Christ's explanation of them made them all the more searching. In His Sermon on the Mount He carried the principles of the commandments beyond the mere letter. He unfolded them and showed that they embraced more, that they are positive as well as prohibitive. The Old Testament closes with these words: "Remember ye the law of Moses my servant, which I commanded unto him in Horeb for all Israel, with the statutes and judgments. Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord: and he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse." Does that look as if the law of Moses was becoming obsolete? The conviction deepens in me with the years that the old truths of the Bible must be stated and restated in the plainest possible language. I do not remember ever to have heard a sermon preached on the commandments. I have an index of two thousand five hundred sermons preached by Spurgeon, and not one of them selects its text from the first seventeen verses of Exodus xx. The people must be made to understand that the Ten Commandments are still binding, and that there is a penalty attached to their violation. We do not want a gospel of mere sentiment. The Sermon on the Mount did not blot out the Ten Commandments. When Christ came He condensed the statement of the law into this form: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy strength and with all thy mind; and thy neighbor as thyself." Paul said: "Love is the fulfilling of the law." But does this mean that the detailed precepts of the Decalogue are superseded, and have become back numbers? Does a father cease to give children rules to obey because they love him? Does a nation burn its statute books because the people have become patriotic? Not at all. And yet people speak as if the Commandments do not hold for Christians because they have come to love God. Paul said: "Do we then make void the law through faith? God forbid. Yea, we establish the law." It still holds good. The commandments are necessary. So long as we obey, they do not rest heavy upon us; but as soon as we try to break away, we find they are like fences to keep us within bounds. Horses need bridles even after they have been properly broken in. "We know that the law is good if a man use it lawfully; knowing this, that the law is not made for a righteous man, but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and for sinners, for unholy and profane, for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers, for manslayers, for whoremongers, for them that defile themselves with mankind, for menstealers, for liars, for perjured persons, and if there be any other thing that is contrary to sound doctrine." Now, my friend, are you ready to be weighed by this law of God? A great many people say that if they keep the commandments, they do not need to be forgiven and saved through Christ. But have you kept them? I will admit that if you perfectly keep the commandments, you do not need to be saved by Christ; but is there a man in the wide world who can truly say that he has done this? Young lady, can you say: "I am ready to be weighed by the law?" Can you, young man? Will you step into the scales and be weighed one by one by the Ten Commandments? Now face these Ten Commandments honestly and prayerfully. See if your life is right, and if you are treating God fairly. God's statutes are just, are they not? If they are right, let us see if we are right. Let us pray that the Holy Ghost may search each one of us. Let us get alone with God and read His law--read it carefully and prayerfully, and ask Him to show us our sins and what He would have us to do. First Commandment "Thou shalt have no other gods before me." My friend, are you ready to be weighed against this commandment? Have you fulfilled, or are you willing to fulfil, all the requirements of this law? Put it into one of the scales, and step into the other. Is your heart set upon God alone? Have you no other God? Do you love Him above father or mother, the wife of your bosom, your children, home or land, wealth or pleasure? If men were true to this commandment, obedience to the remaining nine would follow naturally. It is because they are unsound in this that they break the others. FEELING AFTER GOD. Philosophers are agreed that even the most primitive races of mankind reach out beyond the world of matter to a superior Being. It is as natural for man to feel after God as it is for the ivy to feel after a support. Hunger and thirst drive him to seek for food, and there is a hunger of the soul that needs satisfying, too. Man does not need to be commanded to worship, as there is not a race so high or so low in the scale of civilization but has some kind of a god. What he needs is to be directed aright. This is what the first commandment is for. Before we can worship intelligently, we must know what or whom to worship. God does not leave us in ignorance. When Paul vent to Athens, he found an altar dedicated to "An Unknown God," and he proceeded to tell of Him whom we worship. When God gave the commandments to Moses, He commenced with a declaration of His own character, and demanded exclusive recognition. "I am the Lord thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. Thou shalt have no other gods before me." The Rev. Dr. Dale says these words have great significance. "The Jews knew Jehovah as the God who had held back the waves like a wall while they fled across the sea to escape the vengeance of their enemies; they knew him as the God who had sent thunder, and lightning, and hail, plagues on cattle, and plagues on men, to punish the Egyptians and to compel them to let the children of Israel go; they knew Him as the God whose angel had slain the firstborn of their oppressors, and filled the land from end to end with death, and agony, and terror. He was the same God, so Moses and Aaron told them, who by visions and voices, in promises and precepts, had revealed Himself long before to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. We learn what men are from what they say and from what they do. A biography of Luther gives a more vivid and trustworthy knowledge of the man than the most philosophical essay on his character and creed. The story of his imprisonment and of his journey to Worms, his Letters, his Sermons, and his Table-Talk, are worth more than the most elaborate speculations about him. The Jews learned what God is, not from theological dissertations on the Divine attributes, but from the facts of a Divine history. They knew Him for themselves in His own acts and His own words." Some one asked an Arab: "How do you know that there is a God?" "How do I know whether a man or a camel passed my tent last night?" he replied. God's footprints in nature and in our own experience are the best evidence of His existence and character. THE ISRAELITES WERE EXPOSED TO DANGER. Remember to whom this commandment was given, and we shall see further how necessary it was. The forefathers of the Israelites had worshipped idols, not many generations back. They had recently been delivered out of Egypt, a land of many gods. The Egyptians worshipped the sun, the moon, insects, animals, etc. The ten plagues were undoubtedly meant by God to bring confusion upon many of their sacred objects. The children of Israel were going up to take possession of a land that was inhabited by heathen, who also worshipped idols. There was therefore great need of such a commandment as this. There could be no right relationship between God and man in those days any more than to-day, until man understood that he must recognize God alone, and not offer Him a divided heart. If He created us, He certainly ought to have our homage. Is it not right that He should have the first and only place in our affections? NO COMPROMISE. This is one matter in which no toleration can be shown. Religious liberty is a good thing, within certain limits. But it is one thing to show toleration to those who agree on essentials, and another, to those who differ on fundamental beliefs. They were willing to admit any god to the Roman Pantheon. One reason why the early Christians were persecuted was that they would not accept a place for Jesus Christ there. Napoleon is said to have entertained the idea of having separate temples in Paris for every known religion, so that every stranger should have a place of worship when attracted toward that city. Such plans are directly opposed to the Divine one. God sounded no uncertain note in this commandment. It is plain, unmistakable, uncompromising. We may learn a lesson from the way a farmer deals with the little shoots that spring up around the trunk of an apple tree. They look promising, and one who has not learned better might welcome their growth. But the farmer knows that they will draw the life-sap from the main tree, injuring its prospects so that it will produce inferior fruit. He therefore takes his axe and his hoe, and cuts away these suckers. The tree then gives a more plentiful and a finer crop. GOD'S PRUNING-KNIFE. "Thou shalt not" is the pruning-knife that God uses. From beginning to end, the Bible calls for wholehearted allegiance to Him. There is to be no compromise with other gods. It took long years for God to impress this lesson upon the Israelites. He called them to be a chosen nation. He made them a peculiar people. But you will notice in Bible history that they turned away from Him continually, and were punished with plague, pestilence, war and famine. Their sin was not that they renounced God altogether, but that they wanted to worship other gods beside Him. Take the case of Solomon as an example of the whole nation. He married heathen wives who turned away his heart after other gods, and built high places for their idols, and lent countenance to their worship. That was the history of frequent turnings of the whole nation away from God, until finally He sent them into captivity in Babylon and kept them there for seventy years. Since then the Jews have never turned to other gods. Hasn't the church to contend with the same difficulty to-day? There are very few who in their hearts do not believe in God, but what they will not do is give Him exclusive right of way. Missionaries tell us that they could easily get converts if they did not require them to be baptized, thus publicly renouncing their idols. Many a person in our land would become a Christian if the gate was not so strait. Christianity is too strict for them. They are not ready to promise full allegiance to God alone. Many a professing Christian is a stumbling-block because his worship is divided. On Sunday he worships God; on week days God has little or no place in his thoughts. FALSE GODS IN AMERICA TO-DAY. You don't have to go to heathen lands to-day to find false gods. America is full of them. Whatever you make most of is your god. Whatever you love more than God is your idol. Many a mans heart is like some Kaffirs' huts, so full of idols that there is hardly room to turn around. Rich and poor, learned and unlearned, all classes of men and women are guilty of this sin. "The mean man boweth down, and the great man humbled himself." A man may make a god of himself, of a child, of a mother, of some precious gift that God has bestowed upon him. He may forget the Giver, and let his heart go out in adoration toward the gift. Many make a god of pleasure; that is what their hearts are set on. If some old Greek or Roman came to life again and saw men in a drunken debauch, would he believe that the worship of Bacchus had died out? If he saw the streets of our large cities filled with harlots, would he believe that the worship of Venus had ceased? Others take fashion as their god. They give their time and thought to dress. They fear what others will think of them. Do not let us flatter ourselves that all idolaters are in heathen countries. With many it is the god of money. We haven't got through worshipping the golden calf yet. If a man will sell his principles for gold, isn't he making it a god? If he trusts in his wealth to keep him from want and to supply his needs, are not riches his god? Many a man says, "Give me money, and I will give you heaven. What care I for all the glories and treasures of heaven? Give me treasures here! I don't care for heaven! I want to be a successful business man." How true are the words of Job: "If I have made gold my hope, or have said to the fine gold, Thou art my confidence; if I rejoiced because my wealth was great, and because mine hand had begotten much; if I beheld the sun when it shined, or the moon walking in brightness; and my heart hath been secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand: this also were an iniquity to be punished by the judge: for I should have denied the God that is above." But all false gods are not as gross as these. There is _the atheist_. He says that he does not believe in God; he denies His existence, but he can't help setting up some other god in His place. Voltaire said, "If there were no God, it would be necessary to invent one." So the atheist speaks of the Great Unknown, the First Cause, the Infinite Mind, etc. Then there is _the deist_. He is a man who believes in one God who caused all things: but he doesn't believe in revelation. He only accepts such truths as can be discovered by reason. He doesn't believe in Jesus Christ, or in the inspiration of the Bible. Then there is _the pantheist_, who says: "I believe that the whole universe is God. He is in the air, the water, the sun, the stars."; the liar and the thief included. MOSES' FAREWELL MESSAGE. Let me call your attention to a verse in the thirty-second chapter of Deuteronomy, thirty-first verse: "For their rock is not as our Rock, even our enemies themselves being judges." These words were uttered by Moses, in his farewell address to Israel. He had been with them forty years. He was their leader and instructor. All the blessings of heaven came to them through him. And now the old man is about to leave them. If you have never read his speech, do so. It is one of the best sermons in print. I know few sermons in the Old or New Testament that compare with it. I can see Moses as he delivers this address. His natural activity has not abated. He still has the vigor of youth. His long white hair flows over his shoulders, and his venerable beard covers his breast. He throws down the challenge: "Their rock is not as our Rock, even our enemies themselves being judges." Has the human heart ever been satisfied with these false gods? Can pleasure or riches fill the soul that is empty of God? How about the atheist, the deist, the pantheist? What do they look forward to? Nothing! Man's life is full of trouble; but when the billows of affliction and disappointment are rising and rolling over them, they have no God to call upon. "They shall cry unto the gods unto whom they offer incense; but they shall not save them at all in the time of their trouble." Therefore I contend "their rock is not as our Rock." My friends, when the hour of affliction comes, they call in a minister to give consolation. When I was settled in Chicago, I used to be called out to attend many funerals. I would inquire what the man was in his belief. If I found out he was an atheist, or a deist, or a pantheist, when I went to the funeral and in the presence of his friends said one word about that man's doctrine, they would feel insulted. Why is it that in a trying hour, when they have been talking all the time against God--why is it that in the darkness of affliction they call in believers in that God to administer consolation? Why doesn't the atheist preach no hereafter, no heaven, no God, in the hour of affliction? This very fact is an admission that "their rock is not as our Rock, even our enemies themselves being judges." The deist says there is no use in praying, because nothing can change the decrees of deity; God never answers prayer. Is his rock as our Rock? The Bible is true. There is only one God. How many men have said to me: "Mr. Moody, I would give the world if I had your faith, your consolation, the hope you have with your religion." Isn't that a proof that their rock is not as our Rock? Some years ago I went into a man's house, and when I commenced to talk about religion he turned to his daughter and said: "You had better leave the room. I want to say a few words to Mr. Moody." When she had gone, he opened a perfect torrent of infidelity upon me. "Why did you send your daughter out of the room before you said this?" I asked. "Well," he replied, "I did not think it would do her any good to hear what I said." Is his rock as our Rock? Would he have sent his daughter out if he really believed what he said? NO CONSOLATION EXCEPT IN GOD. No. There is no satisfaction for the soul except in the God of the Bible. We come back to Paul's words, and get consolation for time and eternity:--"We know that an idol is nothing in the world, and that there is none other God but one. For though there be that are called gods, whether in heaven or in earth, (as there be gods many, and lords many,) yet to us there is but one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we in Him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all things, and we by Him." My friend, can you say that sincerely? Is all your hope centred on God in Christ? Are you trusting Him alone? Are you ready to step into the scales and be weighed against this first commandment? WHOLE-HEARTED ALLEGIANCE. God will not accept a divided heart. He must be absolute monarch. There is not room in your heart for two thrones. Christ said: "No man can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and Mammon." Mark you, He did not say--"No man _shall_ serve. . . . Ye _shall_ not serve. . . .", but "No man _can_ serve. . . . Ye _can_ not serve. . . ." That means more than a command; it means that you cannot mix the worship of the true God with the worship of another god any more than you can mix oil and water. It cannot be done. There is not room for any other throne in the heart if Christ is there. If worldliness should come in, godliness would go out. The road to heaven and the road to hell lead in different directions. Which master will you choose to follow? Be an out-and-out Christian. "Him only shalt thou serve." Only thus can you be well pleasing to God. The Jews were punished with seventy years of captivity because they worshipped false gods. They have suffered nearly nineteen hundred years because they rejected the Messiah. Will you incur God's displeasure by rejecting Christ too? He died to save you. Trust him with your whole heart, for with the heart man believeth unto righteousness. I believe that when Christ has the first place in our hearts--when the kingdom of God is first in everything--we shall have power, and we shall not have power until we give Him His rightful place. If we let some false god come in and steal our love away from the God of heaven, we shall have no peace or power. Second Commandment "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate Me; and shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love Me, and keep My commandments." The first commandment, which we have just considered, points out the one true object of worship; this commandment is to tell us the right way in which to worship. The former commands us to worship God alone; this calls for purity and spirituality as we approach Him. The former condemns the worship of false gods; this prohibits false forms. It relates more especially to outward acts of worship; but these are only the expression of what is in the heart. Perhaps you will say that there is no trouble about this weight. We might go off to other ages or other lands, and find people who make images and bow down to them; but we have none here. Let us see if this is true. Let us step into the scales and see if we can turn them when weighed against this commandment. I believe this is where the battle is fought. Satan tries to keep us from worshipping God aright, and from making Him first in everything. If I let some image made by man get into my heart and take the place of God the Creator, it is a sin. I believe that Satan is willing to have us worship anything, however sacred,--the Bible, the crucifix, the church,--if only we do not worship God Himself. You cannot find a place in the Bible where a man has been allowed to bow down and worship any one but the God of heaven and Jesus Christ His Son. In the Book of Revelation, when an angel came down to John, he was about to fall down and worship him, but the angel would not let him. If an angel from heaven is not to be worshipped, when you find people bowing down to pictures, to images, even when they bow down to worship the cross, _it is a sin_. There are a great many who seem to be carried away with these things. "Thou shalt have no other gods before Me." "Thou shalt not bow down thyself to any graven image." God wants us to worship Him only, and if we do not believe that Jesus Christ is God manifest in the flesh we should not worship Him. I have no more doubt about the divinity of Christ than I have that I exist. Worship involves two things: the internal belief, and the external act. We transgress in our hearts by having a wrong conception of God and of Jesus Christ before ever we give public expression in action. As some one has said, it is wrong to have loose opinions as well as to be guilty of loose practices. That is what Paul meant when he said: "We ought not to _think_ that the Godhead is like unto gold or silver or stone, graven by art or man's device." The opinions that some people hold about Christ are not in accordance with the Bible, and are real violations of this second commandment. A QUESTION. The question at once arises--is this commandment intended to forbid the use of drawings and pictures of created things altogether? Some contend that it does. They point to the Jews and the Mohammedans as a proof. The Jews have never been much given to art. The Mohammedans to this day do not use designs of animals, etc., in patterns. But I do not agree with them. I think God only meant to forbid images and other representations when these were intended to be used as objects of religious veneration. "Thou shalt not make _unto thee_. . . . Thou shalt not _bow down thyself_ to them, nor _serve_ them." In Exodus we are told that God ordered the bowls of the golden candlestick for the tabernacle to be made "like unto almonds, with a knop and a flower;" and the robe of the ephod had a hem on which they were to put a bell and a pomegranate alternately. How could God order something that broke this second commandment? I believe that this commandment is a call for spiritual worship. It is in line with Christ's declaration to that Samaritan woman--"God is a spirit, and they that worship Him must worship Him in _spirit_ and in _truth_." This is precisely what is difficult for men to do. The apostles were hardly in their graves before they began to put up images of them, and to worship relics. People have a desire for something tangible, something that they can see. It is so much easier to live in the sense than in the spirit. That is why there is a demand for ritualism. Some people are born Puritans; they want a simple form of worship. Others think they cannot get along without forms and ceremonies that appeal to the senses. And many a one whose heart is not sincere before God takes refuge in these forms, and eases his conscience by making an outward show of religion. The second commandment is to restrain this desire and tendency. God is grieved when we are untrue to Him. God is Love, and He is wounded when our affections are transferred to anything else. The penalty attached to this commandment teaches us that man has to reap what he sows, whether good or bad; and not only that, but his children have to reap with him. Notice that punishment is visited upon the children unto the _third_ or the _fourth_ generation, while mercy is shown unto thousands, or (as it is more correctly) unto the _thousandth_ generation. THE FOLLY OF IMAGES. Think for a moment, and you will see how idle it is to try to make any representation of God. Christians have tried to paint the Trinity, but how can you depict the Invisible? Can you draw a picture of your own soul or spirit or will? Moses impressed it upon Israel that when God spake to them out of the midst of the fire they saw no manner of similitude, but only heard His voice. A picture or image of God must degrade our conception of Him. It fastens us down to one idea, whereas we ought to grow in grace and in knowledge. It makes God finite. It brings him down to our level. It has given rise to the horrible idols of India and China, because they fashion these images according to their own notions. How would the president feel if Americans made such hideous objects to resemble him as they make of their gods in heathen countries? Isaiah bore down with tremendous irony upon the folly of idol makers: upon the smith who fashioned gods with tongs and hammers; and upon the carpenter who took a tree, and used part of it for a fire to warm himself and roast his meat, and made part of it in the figure of a man with his rule and plane and compass, and called it his god and worshipped it. "A deceived heart hath turned him aside." A man must be greater than anything he is able to make or manufacture. What folly then to think of worshipping such things! The tendency of the human heart to represent God by something that appeals to the senses is the origin of all idolatry. It leads directly to image-worship. At first there may be no desire to worship the thing itself, but it inevitably ends in that. As Dr. MacLaren says: "Enlisting the senses as allies of the spirit is risky work. They are apt to fight for their own band when they once begin, and the history of all symbolical and ceremonial worship shows that the experiment is much more likely to end in sensualizing religion than in spiritualizing sense." PICTURES AND IMAGES. But some one says--"I find pictures are a great help to me, and images. I know that they are not themselves sacred, but they help me in my devotions to fix my thoughts on God." When Dr. Trumbull was in Northfield, he used an illustration that is a good answer to this. He said, "Suppose a young man were watching from a window for his absent mother's return, with a wish to catch the first glimpse of her approaching face. Would he be wise or foolish in putting up a photograph of her on the window-frame before him, as a help to bear her in as he looks for her coming? As there can be no doubt about the answer to that question, so there can be no doubt that we can best come into communion with God by closing our eyes to everything that can be seen with the natural eye, and opening the eyes of our spirit to the sight of God the Spirit." I would a great deal sooner have five minutes communion with Christ than spend years before pictures and images of Him. Whatever comes between my soul and my Maker is not a help to me, but a hindrance. God has given different means of grace by which we can approach Him. Let us use these, and not seek for other things that He has distinctly forbidden. Dr. Dale says that in his college days he had an engraving of our Lord hanging over his mantlepiece. "The calmness, the dignity, the gentleness, and the sadness of the face represented the highest conceptions which I had in those days of the human presence of Christ. I often looked at it, and seldom without being touched by it. I discovered in the course of a few mouths that the superstitious sentiments were gradually clustering about it, which are always created by the visible representations of the Divine. The engraving was becoming to me the shrine of God manifest in the flesh, and I understood the growth of idolatry. The visible symbol is at first a symbol and nothing more; it assists thought; it stirs passion. At last it is identified with the God whom it represents. If, every day, I bow before a crucifix in prayer, if I address it as though it were Christ, though I know it is not, I shall come to feel for it a reverence and love which are of the very essence of idolatry." Did you ever stop to think that the world has not a single picture of Christ that has been handed down to us from His disciples? Who knows what He was like? The Bible does not tell us how He looked, except in one or two isolated general expressions as when it says--"His visage was so marred more than any man, and His form more than the sons of men." We don't know anything definite about His features, the color of His hair and eyes, and the other details that would help to give a true representation. What artist can tell us? He left no keepsakes to His disciples. His clothes were seized by the Roman soldiers who crucified Him. Not a solitary thing was left to be handed down among His followers. Doesn't it look as if Christ left no relics lest they should be held sacred and worshipped? History tells us further that the early Christians shrank from making pictures and statues of any kind of Christ. They knew Him as they had seen Him after His resurrection, and had promises of His continued presence that pictures could not make any more real. I have seen very few pictures of Christ that do not repel me more or less. I sometimes think that it is wrong to have pictures of Him at all. Speaking of the crucifix Dr. Dale says; "It makes our worship and prayer unreal. We are adoring a Christ who does not exist. He is not on the cross now, but on the throne. His agonies are passed forever. He has risen from the dead. He is at the right hand of God. If we pray to a dying Christ, we are praying not to Christ Himself, but to a mere remembrance of Him. The injury which the crucifix has inflicted on the religious life of Christendom, in encouraging a morbid and unreal devotion, is absolutely incalculable. It has given us a dying Christ instead of a living Christ, a Christ separated from us by many centuries instead of a Christ nigh at hand." THE INDWELLING CHRIST. No one can say that we have nowadays any need of such things. "Behold I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." If Christ is in our hearts, why need we set Him before our eyes? "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." If we take hold of that promise by faith, what need is there of outward symbols and reminders? If the King Himself is present, why need we bow down before statues supposed to represent Him? To fill His place with an image (some one has said,) is like blotting the sun out of the heavens and substituting some other light in its place. "You cannot see Him through chinks of ceremonialism; or through the blind eyes of erring man; or by images graven with art and man's device; or in cunningly devised fables of artificial and perverted theology. Nay, seek Him in His own Word, in the revelation of Himself which He gives to all who walk in His ways. So you will be able to keep that admonition of the last word of all the New Testament revelation: 'Little children, keep yourselves from idols.'" I believe many an earnest Christian would be found wanting if put in the balances against this commandment. "Tekel" is the sentence that would be written against them, because their worship of God and of Christ is not pure. May God open our eyes to the danger that is creeping more and more into public worship throughout Christendom! Let us ever bear in mind Christ's words in the fourth chapter of John's gospel, which show that true spiritual worship is not a matter of special times and special places because it is of all times and all places: "Believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship Him. God is a Spirit: and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." Third Commandment "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh His name in vain." I was greatly amazed not long ago in talking to a man who thought he was a Christian, to find that once in a while, when he got angry, he would swear. I said: "My friend, I don't see how you can tear down with one hand what you are trying to build up with the other. I don't see how you can profess to be a child of God and let those words come out of your lips." He replied: "Mr. Moody, if you knew me you would understand. I have a very quick temper. I inherited it from my father and mother, and it is uncontrollable; but my swearing comes only from the lips." When God said, "I will not hold him guiltless that takes My name in vain," He meant what He said, and I don't believe any one can be a true child of God who takes the name of God in vain. What is the grace of God for, if it is not to give me control of my temper so that I shall not lose control and bring down the curse of God upon myself? When a man is born of God, God takes the "swear" out of him. Make the fountain good, and the stream will be good. Let the heart be right; then the language will be right; the whole life will be right. But no man can serve God and keep His law until he is born of God. There we see the necessity of the new birth. To take God's name "in vain" means either (1) lightly, without thinking, flippantly; or (2) profanely, deceitfully. USING GOD'S NAME IRREVERENTLY. I think it is shocking to use God's name with so little reverence as is common nowadays, even among professing Christians. We are told that the Jews held it so sacred that the covenant name of God was never mentioned amongst them except once a year by the high priest on the Day of Atonement, when he went into the holy of holies. What a contrast that is to the familiar use Christians make of it in public and private worship! We are apt to rush into God's presence, and rush out again, without any real sense of the reverence and awe that is due Him. We forget that we are on holy ground. Do you know how often the word "reverend" occurs in the Bible? Only once. And what is it used in connection with? God's name. Psalm cxi. 9: "Holy and reverend is His name." So important did the Jewish rabbis consider this commandment that they said the whole world trembled when it was first proclaimed on Sinai. USING GOD'S NAME PROFANELY. But though there is far too much of this frivolous, familiar use of God's name, the commandment is broken a great deal more by profanity. Taking the name of God in vain is blasphemy. Is there a swearing man who reads this? What would you do if you were put into the balances of the sanctuary, if you had to step in opposite to this third commandment? Think a moment. Have you been taking God's name in vain to-day? I do not believe men would ever have been guilty of swearing unless God had forbidden it. They do not swear by their friends, their fathers or mothers, their wives or children. They want to show how they despise God's law. A great many men think there is nothing in swearing. Bear in mind that God sees something wrong in it, and He says He will not hold men guiltless, even though society does. I met a man sometime ago who told me he had never sinned in his life. He was the first perfect man I had ever met. I thought I would question him, and began to measure him by the law. I asked him: "Do you ever get angry?" "Well," he said, "sometimes I do; but I have a right to do so. It is righteous indignation." "Do you swear when you get angry?" He admitted he did sometimes. "Then," I asked, "are you ready to meet God?" "Yes," he replied, "because I never mean anything when I swear." Suppose I steal a man's watch and he comes after me. "Yes," I say, "I stole your watch and pawned it, but _I did not mean anything by it_. I pawned it and spent the money, but _I did not mean anything by it_." You would smile at and deride such a statement. Ah, friends! You cannot trifle with God in that way. Even if you swear without meaning it, it is forbidden by God. Christ said: "Every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give an account thereof in the day of judgment; for by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned." You will be held accountable whether your words are _idle_ or _blasphemous_. A SENSELESS HABIT. The habit of swearing is condemned by all sensible persons. It has been called "the most gratuitous of all sins," because no one gains by it; it is "not only sinful, but useless." An old writer said that when the accusing angel, who records men's words, flies up to heaven with an oath, he blushes as he hands it in. When a man blasphemes, he shows an utter contempt for God. I was in the army during the war, and heard men cursing and swearing. Some godly woman would pass along the ranks looking for her wounded son, and not an oath would be heard. They would not swear before their mothers, or their wives, or their sisters; they had more respect for them than they had for God! Isn't it a terrible condemnation that swearing held its own until it came to be recognized as a vulgar thing, a sin against society? Men dropped it then, who never thought of its being a sin against God. There will be no swearing men in the kingdom of God. They will have to drop that sin, and repent of it, before they see the kingdom of God. HOW TO KEEP FROM SWEARING. Men often ask: "How can I keep from swearing?" I will tell you. If God puts His love into your heart, you will have no desire to curse Him. If you have much regard for God, you will no more think of cursing Him than you would think of speaking lightly or disparagingly of a mother whom you love. But the natural man is at enmity with God, and has utter contempt for His law. When that law is written on his heart, there will be no trouble in obeying it. When I was out west about thirty years ago, I was preaching one day in the open air, when a man drove up in a fine turn-out, and after listening a little while to what I was saying, he put the whip to his fine-looking Steed, and away he went. I never expected to see him again, but the next night he came back, and he kept on coming regularly night after night. I noticed that his forehead itched--you have noticed people who keep putting their hands to their foreheads?--he didn't want any one to see him shedding tears--of course not! It is not a manly thing to shed tears in a religions meeting, of course! After the meeting I said to a gentleman: "Who is that man who drives up here every night? Is he interested?" "Interested! I should think not! You should have heard the way he talked about you today." "Well," I said, "that is a sign he is interested." If no man ever has anything to say against you, your Christianity isn't worth much. Men said of the Master, "He has a devil," and Jesus said that if they had called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more them of his household. I asked where this man lived, but my friend told me not to go to see him, for he would only curse me. I said: "It takes God to curse a man; man can only bring curses on his own head." I found out where he lived, and went to see him. He was the wealthiest man within a hundred miles of that place, and had a wife and seven beautiful children. Just as I got to his gate I saw him coming out of the front door. I stepped up to him and said: "This is Mr.--, I believe?" He said: "Yes, sir; that is my name." Then he straightened up and asked--"What do you want?" "Well," I said, "I would like to ask you a question, if you won't be angry." "Well, what is it?" "I am told that God has blessed you above all men in this part of the country; that He has given you wealth, a beautiful Christian wife, and seven lovely children. I do not know if it is true, but I hear that all He gets in return is cursing and blasphemy." He said, "Come in; come in." I went in. "Now," he said, "what you said out there is true. If any man has a fine wife I am the man, and I have a lovely family of children, and God has been good to me. But do you know, we had company here the other night, and I cursed my wife at the table, and did not know it till after the company had gone. I never felt so mean and contemptible in my life as when my wife told me of it. She said she wanted the floor to open and let her down out of her seat. If I have tried once, I have tried a hundred times to stop swearing. You preachers don't know anything about it." "Yes," I said, "I know all about it; I have been a drummer." "But," he said, "you don't know anything about a business-man's troubles. When he is harassed and tormented the whole time, he can't help swearing." "Oh, yes," I said, "he can. I know something about it. I used to swear myself." "What! You used to swear?" he asked; "how did you stop?" "I never stopped." "Why, you don't swear now, do you?" "No; I have not sworn for years." "How did you stop?" "I never stopped. It stopped itself." He said, "I don't understand this." "No," I said, "I know you don't. But I came up to talk to you, so that you will never want to swear again as long as you live." I began to tell him about Christ in the heart; how that would take the temptation to swear out of a man, "Well," he said, "how am I to get Christ?" "Get right down here and tell Him what you want." "But," he said, "I was never on my knees in my life. I have been cursing all the day, and I don't know how to pray or what to pray for." "Well," I said, "it is mortifying to have to call on God for mercy when you have never used His name except in oaths; but He will not turn you away. Ask God to forgive you if you want to be forgiven." Then the man got down and prayed--only a few sentences, but thank God, it is the short prayers, after all, which bring the quickest answers. After he prayed he got up and said: "What shall I do now?" I said, "Go down to the church and tell the people there that you want to be an out-and-out Christian." "I cannot do that," he said; "I never go to church except to some funeral." "Then it is high time for you to go for something else," I said. After a while he promised to go, but did not know what the people would say. At the next church prayer-meeting, the man was there, and I sat right in front of him. He stood up and put his hands on the settee, and he trembled so much that I could feel the settee shake. He said: "My friends, you know all about me. If God can save a wretch like me, I want to have you pray for my salvation." That was thirty odd years ago. Sometime ago I was back in that town, and did not see him; but when I was in California, a man asked me to take dinner with him. I told him that I could not do so, for I had another engagement. Then he asked if I remembered him, and told me his name. "Oh," I said, "tell me, have you ever sworn since that night you knelt in your drawing-room, and asked God to forgive you?" "No," he replied, "I have never had a desire to swear since then. It was all taken away." He was not only converted, but became an earnest, active Christian, and all these years has been serving God. That is what will take place when a man is born of the divine nature. Is there a swearing man ready to put this commandment into the scales, and step in to be weighed? Suppose you swear only once in six months or a year--suppose you swear only once in ten years--do you think God will hold you guiltless for that act? It shows that your heart is not clean in God's sight. What are you going to do, blasphemer? Would you not be found wanting? You would be like a feather in the balance. Fourth Commandment "Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work: but the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates: for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it." There has been an awful letting-down in this country regarding the sabbath during the last twenty-five years, and many a man has been shorn of spiritual power, like Samson, because he is not straight on this question. Can _you_ say that you observe the sabbath properly? You may be a professed Christian: are you obeying this commandment? Or do you neglect the house of God on the sabbath day, and spend your time drinking and carousing in places of vice and crime, showing contempt for God and His law? Are you ready to step into the scales? Where were you last sabbath? How did you spend it? I honestly believe that this commandment is just as binding to-day as it ever was. I have talked with men who have said that it has been abrogated, but they have never been able to point to any place in the Bible where God repealed it. When Christ was on earth, He did nothing to set it aside; He freed it from the traces under which the scribes and Pharisees had put it, and gave it its true place. "The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath." It is just as practicable and as necessary for men to-day as it ever was--in fact, more than ever, because we live in such an intense age. The sabbath was binding in Eden, and it has been in force ever since. This fourth commandment begins with the word "remember," showing that the sabbath already existed when God wrote this law on the tables of stone at Sinai. How can men claim that this one commandment has been done away with when they will admit that the other nine are still binding? I believe that the sabbath question to-day is a vital one for the whole country. It is the burning question of the present time. If you give up the sabbath the church goes; if you give up the church the home goes; and if the home goes the nation goes. That is the direction in which we are traveling. The church of God is losing its power on account of so many people giving up the sabbath, and using it to promote selfishness. HOW TO OBSERVE THE SABBATH. "Sabbath" means "rest," and the meaning of the word gives a hint as to the true way to observe the day. God rested after creation, and ordained the sabbath as a rest for man. He blessed it and hallowed it. "Remember _the rest-day_ to keep it _holy_." It is the day when the body may be refreshed and strengthened after six days of labor, and the soul drawn into closer fellowship with its Maker. True observance of the sabbath may be considered under two general heads: cessation from ordinary secular work, and religious exercises. I.--CESSATION FROM SECULAR WORK. A man ought to turn aside from his ordinary employment one day in seven. There are many whose occupation will not permit them to observe Sunday, but they should observe some other day as a sabbath. Saturday is my day of rest because I generally preach on Sunday, and I look forward to it as a boy does to a holiday. God knows what we need. Ministers and missionaries often tell me that they take no rest-day; they do not need it because they are in the Lord's work. That is a mistake. When God was giving Moses instructions about the building of the tabernacle, He referred especially to the sabbath, and gave injunctions for its strict observance; and later, when Moses was conveying the words of the Lord to the children of Israel, he interpreted them by saying that not even were sticks to be gathered on the sabbath to kindle fires for smelting or other purposes. In spite of their zeal and haste to erect the tabernacle, the workmen were to have their day of rest. The command applies to ministers and others engaged in Christian work to-day as much as to those Israelite workmen of old. WORKS OF NECESSITY AND OF EMERGENCY. In judging whether any work may or may not be lawfully done on the sabbath, find out the reason and object for doing it. Exceptions are to be made for works of necessity and works of emergency. By "_works of necessity_" I mean those acts that Christ justified when He approved of leading one's ox or ass to water. Watchmen, police, stokers on board steamers, and many others have engagements that necessitate their working on the sabbath. By "_works of emergency_" I mean those referred to by Christ when He approved of pulling an ox or an ass out of a pit on the sabbath day. In case of fire or sickness a man is often called on to do things that would not otherwise be justifiable. A Christian man was once urged by his employer to work on Sunday. "Does not your Bible say that if your ass falls into a pit on the sabbath, you may pull him out?" "Yes," replied the other; "but if the ass had the habit of falling into the same pit every sabbath, I would either fill up the pit or sell the ass." Every man must settle the question as it effects unnecessary work, with his own conscience. No man should make another work seven days in the week. One day is demanded for rest. A man who has to work the seven days has nothing to look forward to, and life becomes humdrum. Many Christians are guilty in this respect. SABBATH TRAVELING. Take, for instance, the question of sabbath traveling. I believe we are breaking God's laws by using the cars on Sunday and depriving conductors and others of their sabbath. Remember the fourth commandment expressly refers to "the stranger that is within thy gates." Doesn't that touch sabbath travel? But you ask, "What are we to do? How are we to get to church?" I reply, on foot. It will be better for you. Once when I was holding meetings in London, in my ignorance I made arrangements to preach four times in different places one sabbath. After I had made the appointments I found I had to walk sixteen miles; but I walked it, and I slept that night with a clear conscience. I have made it a rule never to use the cars, and if I have a private carriage, I insist that horse and man shall rest on Monday. I want no hackman to rise up in judgment against me. My friends, if we want to help the sabbath, let business men and Christians never patronize cars on the sabbath. I would hate to own stock in those companies, to be the means of taking the sabbath from these men, and have to answer for it at the day of judgment. Let those who are Christians at any rate endeavor to keep a conscience void of offence on this point. SABBATH TRADING. There are many who are inclined to use the sabbath in order to make money faster. This is no new sin. The prophet Amos hurled his invectives against oppressors who said, "When will the new moon be gone, that we may sell corn? and the sabbath, that we may set forth wheat?" Covetous men have always chafed under the restraint, but not until the present time do we find that they have openly counted on sabbath trade to make money. We are told that many street car companies would not pay if it were not for the sabbath traffic, and the sabbath edition of newspapers is also counted upon as the most profitable. The railroad men of this country are breaking down with softening of the brain, and die at the age of fifty or sixty. They think their business is so important that they must run their trains seven days in the week. Business men travel on the sabbath so as to be on hand for business Monday morning. But if they do so God will not prosper them. Work is good for man and is commanded, "Six days shalt thou labor;" but overwork and work on the sabbath takes away the best thing he has. NECESSARY AND BENEFICIAL. The good effect on a nation's health and happiness produced by the return of the sabbath, with its cessation from work, cannot be overestimated. It is needed to repair and restore the body after six days of work. It is proved that a man can do more in six days than in seven. Lord Beaconsfield. said: "Of all divine institutions, the most divine is that which secures a day of rest for man. I hold it to be the most valuable blessing conceded to man. It is the corner-stone of all civilization, and its removal might affect even the health of the people." Mr. Gladstone recently told a friend that the secret of his long life is that amid all the pressure of public cares he never forgot the sabbath, with its rest for the body and the soul. The constitution of the United States protects the president in his weekly day of rest. He has ten days, "Sundays excepted," in which to consider a bill that has been sent to him for signature. Every workingman in the republic ought to be as thoroughly protected as the president. If workingmen got up a strike against unnecessary work on the sabbath, they would have the sympathy of a good many. "Our bodies are seven-day clocks," says Talmage, "and they need to be wound up, and if they are not wound up they run down into the grave. No man can continuously break the sabbath and keep his physical and mental health. Ask aged men, and they will tell you they never knew men who continuously broke the sabbath, who did not fail in mind, body, or moral principles." All that has been said about rest for man is true for working animals. God didn't forget them in this commandment, and man should not forget them either. II.--RELIGIOUS ACTIVITY. But "rest" does not mean idleness. No man enjoys idleness for any length of time. When one goes on a vacation, one does not lie around doing nothing all the time. Hard work at tennis, hunting, and other pursuits fills the hours. A healthy mind must find something to do. Hence the sabbath rest does not mean inactivity. "Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do." The best way to keep off bad thoughts and to avoid temptation is to engage in active religious exercises. As regards these, we should avoid extremes. On the one hand we find a rigor in sabbath observance that is nowhere commanded in Scripture, and that reminds one of the formalism of the Pharisees more than of the spirit of the gospel. Such strictness does more harm than good. It repels people and makes the sabbath a burden. On the other hand we should jealously guard against a loose way of keeping the sabbath. Already in many cities it is profaned openly. When I was a boy the sabbath lasted from sundown on Saturday to sundown on Sunday, and I remember how we boys used to shout when it was over. It was the worst day in the week to us. I believe it can be made the brightest day in the week. Every child ought to be reared so that he shall be able to say, with a friend, that he would rather have the other six days weeded out of his memory than the sabbath of his childhood. PUBLIC WORSHIP. Make the sabbath a day of religious activity. First of all, of course, is attendance at public worship. "There is a discrepancy," says John McNeill, "between our creed about the sabbath day and our actual conduct. In many families, at ten o'clock on the sabbath, attendance at church is still an open question. There is no open question on Monday morning--'John, will you go to work to-day?'" A minister rebuked a farmer for not attending church, and said, "You know John you are never absent from market." "O," was the reply, "we _must_ go to market." Some one has said that without the sabbath the church of Christ could not, as a visible organization, exist on earth. Another has said that "we need to be in the drill of observance as well as in the liberty of faith." Human nature is so treacherous that we are apt to omit things altogether unless there is some special reason for doing them. A man is not likely to worship at all unless he has regularly appointed times and means for worship. Family and private devotions are almost certain to be omitted altogether unless one gets into the habit, and has a special time set apart daily. A REMINISCENCE. I remember blaming my mother for sending me to church on the sabbath. On one occasion the preacher had to send some one into the gallery to wake me up. I thought it was hard to have to work in the field all the week, and then to be obliged to go to church and hear a sermon I didn't understand. I thought I wouldn't go to church any more when I got away from home; but I had got so in the habit of going that I couldn't stay away. After one or two sabbaths, back again to the house of God I went. There I first found Christ, and I have often said since, "Mother, I thank you for making me go to the house of God when I didn't want to go." Parents, if you want your children to grow up and honor you, have them honor the sabbath day. Don't let them go off fishing, and getting into bad company, or it won't be long before they will come home and curse you. I know few things more beautiful than to see a father and mother coming up the aisle with their daughters and sons, and sitting down together to hear the Word of God. It is a good thing to have the children, not in some remote loft or gallery, but in a good place, well in sight. Though they cannot understand the sermon now, when they get older they won't desire to break away, they will continue attending public worship in the house of God. But we must not mistake the means for the end. We must not think that the sabbath is just for the sake of being able to attend meetings. There are some people who think they must spend the whole day at meetings or private devotions. The result is that at nightfall they are tired out, and the day has brought them no rest. The number of church services attended ought to be measured by the person's ability to enjoy them and get good from them, without being wearied. Attending meetings is not the only way to observe the sabbath. The Israelites were commanded to keep it in their dwellings as well as in holy convocation. The home, that centre of so great influence over the life and character of the people, ought to be made the scene of true sabbath observance. HOME OBSERVANCE. Jeremiah classified godless families with the heathen: "Pour out thy fury upon the heathen that know thee not, and upon the families that call not on thy name: for they have eaten up Jacob, devoured him, and consumed him, and have made his habitation desolate." Many mothers have written to me at one time or another to know what to do to entertain their children on the sabbath. The boys say, "I do wish 'twas Night," or, "I do hate the sabbath," or, "I do wish the sabbath was over." It ought to be the happiest day in the week to them, one to be looked forward to with pleasure. In order to this end, many suggestions might be followed. Make family prayers especially attractive by having the children learn some verse or story from the Bible. Give more time to your children than you can give on week days, reading to them and perhaps taking them to walk in the afternoon or evening. Show by your conduct that the sabbath is a delight, and they will soon catch your spirit. Set aside some time for religious instruction, without making this a task. You can make it interesting for the children by telling Bible stories and asking them to guess the names of the characters. Have Sunday games for the younger children. Picture books, puzzle maps of Palestine, etc., can be easily obtained. Sunday albums and Sunday clocks are other devices. Set aside attractive books for the sabbath, not letting the children have these during the week. By doing this, the children can be brought to look forward to the day with eagerness and pleasure. PRIVATE OBSERVANCE. Apart from public and family observance, the individual ought to devote a portion of the time to his own edification. Prayer, meditation, reading, ought not to be forgotten. Think of men devoting six days a week to their body, which will soon pass away, and begrudging one day to the soul which will live on and on forever: Is it too much for God to ask for one day to be devoted to the growth and training of the spiritual senses, when the other senses are kept busy the other six days? If your circumstances permit, engage in some definite Christian work--such as teaching in Sunder school, or visiting the sick. Do all the good you can Sin keeps no sabbath, and no more should good deeds. There is plenty of opportunity in this fallen world to perform works of mercy and religion. Make your sabbath down here a foretaste of the eternal sabbath that is in store for believers. You want power in your Christian life, do you? You want Holy Ghost power? You want the dew of heaven on your brow? You want to see men convicted and converted? I don't believe we shall ever have genuine conversions until we get straight on this law of God. SABBATH DESECRATION. Men seem to think they have a right to change the holy day into a _holiday_. The young have more temptations to break the sabbath than we had forty years ago. There are three great temptations: first, the trolley car, that will take you off into the country for a nickel to have a day of recreation; second, the bicycle, which is leading a good many Christian men to give up their sabbath and spend the day on excursions; and the third, the Sunday newspaper. Twenty years ago Christian people in Chicago would have been horrified if any one had prophesied that all the theatres would be open every sabbath; but that is what has come to pass. If it had been prophesied twenty years ago that Christian men would take a wheel and go off on Sunday morning and be gone all day on an excursion, Christians would have been horrified and would have said it was impossible; but that is what is going on to-day all over the country. THE SUNDAY NEWSPAPER. With regard to the Sunday newspaper, I know all the arguments that are brought in its favor--that the work on it is done during the week, that it is the Monday paper that causes Sunday work, and so on. But there are two hundred thousand newsboys selling the paper on Sunday. Would you like to have your boy one of them? Men are kept running trains in order to distribute the papers. Would you like your sabbath taken away from you? If not, then practise the Golden Rule, and don't touch the papers. Their contents make them unfit for reading any day, not to say Sunday. Some New York dailies advertise Sunday editions of sixty pages. Many dirty pieces of scandal in this and other countries are raked up and put into them. "Eight pages of fun!"--that is splendid reading for Sunday, isn't it? Even when a so-called sermon is printed, it is completely buried by the fiction and news matter. It is time that ministers went into their pulpits and preached against Sunday newspapers if they haven't done it already. Put the man in the scales that buys and reads Sunday papers. After reading them for two or three hours he might go and hear the best sermon in the world, but you couldn't preach anything into him. His mind is filled up with what he has read, and there is no room for thoughts of God. I believe that the archangel Gabriel himself could not make an impression on an audience that has its head full of such trash. If you bored a hole into a man's head, you could not inject any thoughts of God and heaven. I don't believe that the publishers would allow their own children to read them. Why then should they give them to my children and to yours? A merchant who advertises in Sunday papers is not keeping the sabbath. It is a master-stroke of the devil to induce Christian men to do this in order to make trade for Monday. But if a man makes money, and yet his sons are ruined and his home broken up, what has he gained? Ladies buy the Sunday papers and read the advertisements of Monday bargains to see what they can buy cheap. Just so with their religion. They are willing to have it if it doesn't cost anything. If Christian men and women refused to buy them, if Christian merchants refused to advertise in them, they would soon die out, because that is where they get most of their support. They tell me the Sunday paper has come to stay, and I may as well let it alone. Never! I believe it is a great evil, and I shall fight it while I live. I never read a Sunday paper, and wouldn't have one in my house. They are often sent me, but I tear them up without reading them. I will have nothing to do with them. They do more harm to religion than any other one agency I know. Their whole influence is against keeping the sabbath holy. They are an unnecessary evil. Can't a man read enough news on week days without desecrating the sabbath? We had no Sunday papers till the war came, and we got along very well without them. They have been increasing in size and in number ever since then, and I think they have been lowering their tone ever since. If you believe that, help to fight them too. Stamp them out, beginning with yourself. PUNISHMENT OR BLESSING? No nation has ever prospered that has trampled the sabbath in the dust. Show me a nation that has done this, and I will show you a nation that has got in it the seeds of ruin and decay. I believe that sabbath desecration will carry a nation down quicker than anything else. Adam brought marriage and the sabbath with him out of Eden, and neither can be disregarded without suffering. When the children of Israel went into the Promised Land God told them to let their land rest every seven years, and He would give them as much in six years as in seven. For four hundred and ninety years they disregarded that law. But mark you, Nebuchadnezzar came and took them off into Babylon, and kept them seventy years in captivity, and the land had its seventy sabbaths of rest. Seven times seventy is four hundred and ninety. So they did not gain much by breaking this law. You can give God His day, or He will take it. On the other hand, honoring the fourth commandment brings blessing. "If thou turn away thy foot from the sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day; and call the sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honorable; and shalt honor Him, not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words ('thine own' as contrasted with what God enjoins), then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord; and I will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father, for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." I do not know what will become of this republic if we give up our Christian sabbath. If Satan can break the conscience down on one point, he can break it down on all. When I was in France in 1867, I could not tell one day from the other. On Sunday stores were open and buildings were erected, the same as on other days. See how quickly that country went down. One hundred years ago France and England stood abreast in the march of nations. Where do they stand to-day? France undertook to wipe out the sabbath, and has pretty nearly wiped itself out, while England belts the globe. A FIRM STAND. We have a fighting chance to save this nation, and what we want is men and women who have moral courage to stand up and say: "No, I will not touch the Sunday paper, and all the influence I have I will throw dead against it. I will not go away on Saturday evening if I have to travel on Sunday to get back. I will not do unnecessary work on the sabbath. I will do all I can to keep it holy as God commanded." But some one says: "Mr. Moody, what are you going to do? I have to work seven days a week or starve." Then starve! Wouldn't it be a grand thing to have a martyr in the nineteenth century? "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church." Some one says the seed is getting very low; it has been a long time since we have had any seed. I would give something to erect a monument to such a martyr to his fidelity to God's law. I would go around the world to attend his funeral. We want to-day men who will make up their minds to do what is right, and stand by it if the heavens tumble on their heads. What is to become of Christian Associations and Sunday Schools, of churches and Christian Endeavor Societies, if the Christian sabbath is given up to recreation, and made a holiday? Hasn't the time come to call a halt if men want power with God? Let men call you narrow and bigoted, but be man enough to stand by God's law, and you will have power and blessing. That is the kind of Christianity we want just now in this country. Any man can go with the crowd, but we want men who will go against the current. Sabbath-breaker, are you ready to step into the scales? Fifth Commandment "Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." We are living in dark days on this question too. It really seems as if the days the apostle Paul wrote about are upon us: "In the last days perilous times shall come; for men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, _disobedient to parents, unthankful_, unholy, _without natural affection_, despisers of those that are good, . . . ." If Paul was alive to-day, could he have described the present state of affairs more truly? There are perhaps more men in this country that are breaking the hearts of their fathers and mothers, and trampling on the law of God, than in any other civilized country in the world. How many sons treat their parents with contempt, and make light of their entreaties? A young man will have the kindest care from parents; they will watch over him, and care for all his wants; and some bad companion will come in and sweep him away from them in a few weeks. How many young ladies have married against their parents' wishes, and have gone off and made their own life bitter! I never knew one case that did not turn out badly. They invariably bring ruin upon themselves, unless they repent. BEGIN IN THE HOME. The first four commandments deal with our relations to God. They tell us how to worship and when to worship; they forbid irreverence and impiety in word and act. Now God turns to our relations with each other, and isn't it significant that He deals first with family life? "God is going to show us our duty to our neighbor. How does He begin? Not by telling us how kings ought to reign, or how soldiers ought to fight, or how merchants ought to conduct their business, but how boys and girls ought to behave at home." We can see that if their home life is all right, they are almost sure to fulfil the law both in regard to God and man. Parents stand in the place of God to their children in a great many ways until the children arrive at years of discretion. If the children are true to their parents, it will be easier for them to be true to God. He used the human relationship as a symbol of our relationship to Him both by creation and by grace. God is our Father in heaven. We are His offspring. On the other hand, if they have not learned to be obedient and respectful at home, they are likely to have little respect for the law of the land. It is all in the heart; and the heart is prepared at home for good or bad conduct outside. The tree grows the way the twig is bent. "Honor thy father and thy mother." That word "honor" means more than mere obedience--a child may obey through fear. It means love and affection, gratitude, respect. We are told that in the east the words "father" and "mother" include those who are "superiors in age, wisdom and in civil or religious station," so that when the Jews were taught to honor their father and mother it included all who were placed over them in these relations, as well as their parents. Isn't there a crying need for that same feeling to-day? The lawlessness of the present time is a natural consequence of the growing absence of a feeling of respect for those in authority. HONOR THY MOTHER. It has been pointed out as worthy of notice that this commandment enjoins honor for _the mother_, and yet in eastern countries to the present day woman is held of little account. When I was in Palestine a few years ago, the prettiest girl in Jericho was sold by her father in exchange for a donkey. In many ancient nations, just as in certain parts of heathendom today, the parents are killed off as soon as they become old and feeble. Can't we see the hand of God here, raising the woman to her rightful position of honor out of the degradation into which she had been dragged by heathenism? "Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." I believe that we must get back to the old truths. You may make light of it, and laugh at it, young man, but remember that God has given this commandment, and you cannot set it aside. If we get back to this law, we shall have power and blessing. TEMPORAL BLESSING OR CURSE. I believe it to be literally true that our temporal condition depends on the way we act upon this commandment. "Honor thy father and mother, (which is the first commandment with promise), that it may be well with thee, and that thou mayest live long on the earth." "Honor thy father and thy mother, as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee; that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee, in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." "Cursed is he that setteth light by his father or mother." "Whoso curseth his father or mother, his lamp shall be put out in obscure darkness." It would be easy to multiply texts from the Bible to prove this truth. Experience teaches the same thing. A good, loving son generally turns out better than a refractory son. Obedience and respect at home prepare the way for obedience to the employer, and are joined with other virtues that help toward a prosperous career, crowned with a ripe, honored old age. Disobedience and disrespect for parents are often the first steps in the downward track. Many a criminal has testified that this is the point where he first went astray. I have lived over sixty years, and I have learned one thing if I have learned nothing else--that no man or woman who dishonors father or mother ever prospers. Young man, young woman, how do you treat your parents? Tell me that, and I will tell you how you are going to get on in life. When I hear a young man speaking contemptuously of his grey-haired father or mother, I say he has sunk very low indeed. When I see a young man as polite as any gentleman can be when he is out in society, but who snaps up his mother and speaks unkindly to his father, I would not give the snap of my finger for his religion. If there is any man or woman on earth that ought to be treated kindly and tenderly, it is that loving mother or that loving father. If they cannot have your regard through life, what reward are they to have for all their care and anxiety? Think how they loved you and provided for you in your early days. A MOTHER'S LOVE. Let your mind go back to the time when you were ill. Did your mother neglect you? When a neighbor came in and said, "Now, mother, you go and lie down; you have been up for a week; I will take your place for a night"--did she do it? No; and if the poor worn body forced her to it at last, she lay watching, and if she heard your voice, she was at your side directly, anticipating all your wants, wiping the perspiration away from your brow. If you wanted water, how soon you got it! She would gladly have taken the disease into her own body to save you. Her love for you would drive her to any lengths. No matter to what depths of vice and misery you have sunk, no matter how profligate you have grown, she has not turned you out of her heart. Perhaps she loves you all the more because you are wayward. She would draw you back by the bands of a love that never dies. FILIAL INGRATITUDE. When I was in England, I read of a man who professed to be a Christian, who was brought before the magistrate for not supporting his aged father. He had let him go to the workhouse. My friends, I'd rather be content with a crust of bread and a drink of water than let my father or mother go to the workhouse. The idea of a professing Christian doing such a thing! God have mercy on such a godless Christianity as that! It is a withered up thing, and the breath of heaven will drive it away. Don't profess to love God and do a thing like that. A friend of mine told me of a poor man who had sent his son to school in the city. One day the father was hauling some wood into the city, perhaps to pay his boy's bills. The young man was walking down the street with two of his school friends, all dressed in the very height of fashion. His father saw him, and was so glad that he left his wood, and went to the sidewalk to speak to him. But the boy was ashamed of his father, who had on his old working clothes, and spurned him, and said: "I don't know you." Will such a young man ever amount to anything? Never! I remember a very promising young man whom I had in the Sunday school in Chicago. His father was a confirmed drunkard, and his mother took in washing to educate her four children. This was her eldest son, and I thought that he was going to redeem the whole family. But one day a thing happened that made him go down in my estimation. The boy was in the high school, and was a very bright scholar. One day he stood with his mother at the cottage door--it was a poor house, but she could not pay for their schooling, and feed and clothe her children, and hire a very good house too, out of her earnings. When they were talking a young man from the high school came up the street, and this boy walked away from his mother. Next day the young man said: "Who was that I saw you talking to yesterday?" "Oh, that was my washerwoman." I said: "Poor fellow! He will never amount to anything." That was a good many years ago. I have kept my eye on him. He has gone down, down, down, and now he is just a miserable wreck. Of course he would go down. Ashamed of his mother that loved him and toiled for him, and bore so much hardship for him! I cannot tell you the contempt I had for that one act. Let us look at A BRIGHTER PICTURE. Some years ago I heard of a poor woman who sent her boy to school and college. When he was to graduate, he wrote his mother to come, but she sent back word that she could not because her only skirt had already been turned once. She was so shabby that she was afraid he would be ashamed of her. He wrote back that he didn't care how she was dressed, and urged so strongly that she went. He met her at the station, and took her to a nice place to stay. The day came for his graduation, and he walked down the broad aisle with that poor mother dressed very shabbily, and put her into one of the best seats in the house. To her great surprise he was the valedictorian of the class, and he carried everything before him. He won a prize, and when it was given to him, he stepped down before the whole audience, and kissed his mother, and said: "Here, mother, here is the prize. It is yours. I would not have had it if it had not been for you." Thank God for such a man! The one glimpse the Bible gives us of thirty out of the thirty-three years of Christ's life on earth shows that He did not come to destroy this fifth commandment. The secret of all those silent years is embodied in that verse in Luke's Gospel--"And He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was subject to them." Did He not set an example of true filial love and care when in the midst of the agonies of the cross He mode provision for His mother? Did He not condemn the miserable evasions of this law by the Pharisees of His own day: "Well did Isaiah prophesy of you hypocrites, as it is written, This people honoreth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me. But in vain do they worship me, teaching as their doctrines the precepts of men. . . . Full well do ye reject the commandment of God, that ye may keep your tradition. For Moses said, Honor thy father and thy mother; and, He that speaketh evil of father or mother, let him die the death; but ye say, If a man shall say to his father or his mother, That wherewith thou mightest have been profited by me, is Corban, (that is to say, Given to God), ye no longer suffer him to do aught for his father or his mother: making void the word of God by your tradition, which ye have delivered." I have read of one heathen custom in China, which would do us credit in this so-called Christian country. On every New Year's morning each man and boy, from the emperor to the lowest peasant, is said to pay a visit to his mother, carrying her a present varying in value according to his station in life. He thanks her for all she has done for him, and asks a continuance of her favor another year. Abraham Lincoln used to say: "All I have I owe to my mother." I would rather die a hundred deaths than have my children grow up to treat me with scorn and contempt. I would rather have them honor me a thousand times over than have the world honor me. I would rather have their esteem and favor than the esteem of the whole world. And any man who seeks the honor and esteem of the world, and doesn't treat his parents right, is sure to be disappointed: AN EXHORTATION. Young man, if your parents are still living treat them kindly. Do all you can to make their declining years sweet and happy. Bear in mind that this is the only commandment that you may not always be able to obey. As long as you live, you will be able to serve God, to keep the sabbath, to obey all the other commandments, but the day comes to most men when father and mother die. What bitter feelings you will have when the opportunity has gone by, if you fail to show them the respect and love that is their due! How long is it since you wrote to your mother? Perhaps you have not written home for months, or it may be for years. How often I get letters from mothers urging me to try and influence their sons! Which would you rather be--a Joseph or an Absalom? Joseph wasn't satisfied until he had brought his old father down into Egypt. He was the greatest man in Egypt, next to Pharaoh; he was arrayed in the finest garments; he had Pharaoh's ring on his hand, and a gold chain about his neck, and they cried before him, "Bow the knee." Yet when he heard Jacob was coming, he hurried out to meet him. He wasn't ashamed of the old man, with his shepherds clothes. What a contrast we see in Absalom. That young man broke his father's heart by his rebellion, and the Jews are said to throw a stone at Absalom's pillar to the present day, whenever they pass it, as a token of their horror of Absalom's unnatural conduct. Come, now, are you ready to be weighed? If you have been dishonoring your father and mother, step into the scales and see how quickly you will be found wanting. See how quickly you will strike the beam. I don't know any man who is much lighter than one who treats his parents with contempt. Do you disobey them just as much as you dare? Do you try to deceive them? Do you call them old-fashioned, and sneer at their advice? How do you treat that venerable father and praying mother? You may be a professing Christian, but I wouldn't give much for your religion unless it gets into your life and teaches you how to live. I wouldn't give a snap of my finger for a religion that doesn't begin at home and regulate your conduct toward your parents. Sixth Commandment "Thou shalt not kill." I used to say: "What is the use of taking up a law like this in an audience where, probably, there isn't a man who ever thought of, or ever will commit murder?" But as one gets on in years, he sees many a murder that is not outright killing. I need not kill a person to be a murderer. If I get so angry that I wish a man dead, I am a murderer in God's sight. God looks at the heart and says he that hateth his brother is a murderer. First let us see what this commandment does not mean. It does not forbid the killing of animals for food and for other reasons. Millions of rams and lambs and turtle-doves must have been killed every year for sacrifices under the Mosaic system. Christ Himself ate of the Passover lamb, and we are told definitely of cases where He ate fish Himself and provided it for His disciples and the people to eat. It does not forbid the killing of burglars, etc., in self-defence. Directly after the giving of the Ten Commandments, God laid down the ordinance that if a thief be found breaking in and be smitten that he die, it was pardonable. Did not Christ justify this idea of self-defence when He said: "If the goodman of the house had known in what watch the thief would come, he would have watched, and would not have suffered his house to be broken up?" It does not forbid capital punishment. God Himself set the death penalty upon violations of each of the first seven commandments, as well as for other crimes. God said to Noah after the deluge--"Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed;" and the reason given is just as true to-day as it was then--"for in the image of God made He man." What it does forbid is the wanton, intentional taking of human life under wrong motives and circumstances. Man is made in God's image. He is built for eternity. He is more than a mere animal. His life ought therefore to be held sacred. Once taken, it can never be restored. In heathen lands human life is no more sacred than the life of animals; even in Christian lands there are heartless and selfish men who hold it cheap; but God has invested it with a high value. An infidel philosopher of the eighteenth century said: "In the sight of God every event is alike important; and the life of a man is of no greater importance to the universe than that of an oyster." "Where is the crime," he asked, "of turning a few ounces of blood out of their channel?" Such language needs no answer. THE VALUE OF A MAN. Let me give you a passage from H. L. Hastings: "A friend of mine visited the Fiji Islands in 1844, and what do you suppose an infidel was worth there then? You could buy a man for a musket, or if you paid money, for seven dollars, and after you had bought him you could feed him, starve him, work him, whip him, or eat him--they generally ate them, unless they were so full of tobacco they could not stomach them! But if you go there to-day you could not buy a man for seven million dollars. There are no men for sale there now. What has made the difference in the price of humanity? The twelve hundred Christian chapels scattered over that Island tell the story. The people have learned to read that Book which says: 'Ye were not redeemed with corruptible things as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ'; and since they learned that lesson, no man is for sale there." Men tell me that the world is getting so much better. We talk of our American civilization. We forget the alarming increase of crime in our midst. It is said that there is no civilized country on the globe where murder is so frequently committed and so seldom punished. SUICIDE. There is that other kind of murder that is increasing at an appalling rate among us--suicide. There have been infidels in all ages who have advocated it as a justifiable means of release from trial and difficulty; yet thinking men, as far back as Aristotle, have generally condemned it as cowardly and unjustifiable under any conditions. No man has a right to take his own life from such motives any more than the life of another. It has been pointed out that the Jewish race, the people of God, always counted length of days as a blessing. The Bible does not mention one single instance of a good man committing suicide. In the four thousand years of Old Testament history it records only four suicides, and only one suicide in the New Testament. Saul, king of Israel, and his armor-bearer, Ahithophel, Zimri and Judas Iscariot are the five cases. Look at the references in the Bible to see what kind of men they were. OTHER KINDS OF MURDER. But I want to speak of other classes of murderers that are very numerous in this country, although they are not classified as murderers. The man who is the cause of the death of another through criminal carelessness is guilty. The man who sells diseased meat; the saloon-keeper whose drink has maddened the brain of a criminal; those who adulterate food; the employer who jeopardizes the lives of employees and others by unsafe surroundings and conditions in harmful occupations,--they are all guilty of blood where life is lost as a consequence. When I was in England in 1892, I met a gentleman who claimed that they were ahead of us in the respect they had for the law. "We hang our murderers," he said, "but there isn't one out of twenty in your country that is hung." I said, "You are greatly mistaken, for they walk about these two countries unhung." "What do you mean?" "I will tell you what I mean," I said; "the man that comes into my house and runs a dagger into my heart for my money, is a prince compared with a son that takes five years to kill me and the wife of my bosom. A young man who comes home night after night drunk, and when his mother remonstrates, curses her grey hairs and kills her by inches, is the blackest kind of a murderer." That kind of thing is going on constantly all around us. One young man at college, an only son, whose mother wrote to him remonstrating against his gambling and drinking habits, took the letters out of the post-office, and when he found that they were from her, he tore them up without reading them. She said, "I thought I would die when I found I had lost my hold on that son." If a boy kills his mother by his conduct, you can't call it anything else than _murder_, and he is as truly guilty of breaking this sixth commandment as if he drove a dagger to her heart. If all young men in this country who are killing their parents and their wives by inches, should be hung this next week, there would be a great many funerals. How are you treating your parents? Come, are you killing them? This sixth commandment follows very naturally after the fifth,--"Honor thy father and thy mother." Don't put any thorns in their pillows and make their last days miserable. Bear in mind that the commandment refers not only to shooting a man down in cold blood; but he is the worst murderer who goes on, month after month, year after year, until he has crowded the life out of a sainted mother and put a godly father under the sod. THE WORDS OF CHRIST. Let us look once again at the Sermon on the Mount, that men think so much of, and see what Christ had to say: "Ye have heard that it has been said by them of old time, Thou shalt not kill; and whosoever shall kill shall be in danger of the judgment: but I say unto you, that whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment: and whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, (an expression of contempt), shall be in danger of the council: but whosoever shall say, Thou fool, (an expression of condemnation), shall be in danger of hell fire." "Three degrees of murderous guilt," as has been said, "all of which can be manifested without a blow being struck; secret anger--the spiteful jeer--the open, unrestrained outburst of violent abusive speech." Again, what does John say? "Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer: and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him." Did you ever in your heart wish a man dead? That was murder. Did you ever get so angry that you wished any one harm? Then you are guilty. I may be addressing some one who is cultivating an unforgiving spirit. That is the spirit of the murderer, and needs to be rooted out of your heart. We can only read man's acts--what they have done. God looks down into the heart. That is the birthplace and home of the evil desires and intentions that lead to the transgression of all God's laws. Listen once more to the words of Jesus: "From within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts--adulteries--fornications--murders --thefts--covetousness--wickedness--deceit--lasciviousness--an evil eye--blasphemy--pride--foolishness. . . ." May God purge our hearts of these evil things, if we are harboring them! Ah, if many of us were weighed now, we should find Belshazzar's doom written against us--"Tekel--wanting!" Seventh Commandment "Thou shalt not commit adultery." An English army-officer in India who had been living an impure life went around one evening to argue religion with the chaplain. During their talk the officer said: "Religion is all very well, but you must admit that there are difficulties--about the miracles, for instance." The chaplain knew the man and his besetting sin, and quietly looking him in the face, answered: "Yes, there are some things in the Bible not very plain, I admit; but the seventh commandment is very plain." PLAIN SPEAKING. I would to God I could pass over this commandment, but I feel that the time has come to cry aloud and spare not. Plain speaking about it is not very fashionable nowadays. "Teachers of religion have by common consent banished from their public teaching all advice, warning or allusion in regard to love between the sexes," says Dr. Stalker. These themes are left to poets and novelists to handle. In an autobiography recently published in England, the writer attributed no small share of the follies and vices of his earlier years to his never having heard a plain, outspoken sermon on this seventh commandment. But though men are inclined to pass it by, God is not silent or indifferent in regard to it. When I hear any one make light of adultery and licentiousness, I take the Bible and see how God has let his curse and wrath come down upon it. "Thou shalt not commit adultery. . . . For this is a heinous crime; yea, it is an iniquity to be punished by the judges. For it is a fire that consumeth to destruction, and would root out all mine increase. . . . By means of a whorish woman a man is brought to a piece of bread: and the adulteress will hunt for the precious life. Can a man take fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned? Can one go upon hot coals, and his feet not be burned? So he that goeth in to his neighbor's wife; whosoever toucheth her shall not be innocent. . . . Whoso committeth adultery with a woman lacketh understanding: he that doeth it destroyeth his own soul. A wound and dishonor shall he get; and his reproach shall not be wiped away. . . . Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind shall inherit the kingdom of God. . . . But fornication, and all uncleanness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints; neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient: but rather giving thanks. For this ye know, that no whoremonger, nor unclean person hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God. Let no man deceive you with vain words: for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience. Be not ye therefore partakers with them. . . . Whoremongers shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death. . . . For without are whoremongers. . . ." These are a few of the threatenings and warnings contained in the old Book, up to its closing chapter. It speaks plainly, without compromise. MARRIAGE AND THE HOME. This commandment is God's bulwark around marriage and the home. Marriage is one of the institutions that existed in Eden; it is older than the fall. It is the most sacred relationship that can exist between human beings, taking precedence even of the relationship of the parent and child. Some one has pointed out that as in the beginning God created one man and one woman, this is the true order for all ages. Where family ties are disregarded and dishonored, the results are always fatal. The home existed before the church, and unless the home is kept pure and undefiled, there can be no family religion and the church is in danger. Adultery and licentiousness have swept nation after nation out of existence. Did it not bring fire and brimstone from heaven upon Sodom and Gomorrah? What carried Rome into ruin? The obscene frescoes and statues at Pompeii and Naples tell the tale. Where there is no sacredness around the home, population dwindles; family virtues disappear; the children are corrupt from their very birth; the seeds of sure decay are already planted. In 1895 there were twenty-five thousand divorces in this country. I was on one of the fashionable streets of a prominent city some time ago, where every family except two in the whole street had either a son or a daughter that had been divorced. Divorce and debauchery go hand in hand. We are not gaining much in turning away from this old law, are we? THE DEVIL'S COUNTERFEIT. Lust is the devil's counterfeit of love. There is nothing more beautiful on earth than a pure love, and there is nothing so blighting as lust. I do not know of a quicker, shorter way down to hell than by adultery and the kindred sins condemned by this commandment. The Bible says that with the heart man believeth unto righteousness, but "whoredom and wine and new wine take away the heart." Lust will drive all natural affection out of a man's heart. For the sake of some vile harlot he will trample on the feelings and entreaties of a sainted mother and beautiful wife and godly sister. Young man, are you leading an impure life? Suppose God's scales should drop down before you, what would you do? Are you fit for the kingdom of heaven? You know very well that you are not. You loathe yourself. When you look upon that pure wife or mother, you say, "What a vile wretch I am! The harlot is bringing me down to an untimely and dishonored grave." May God show us what a fearful sin it is! The idea of making light of it! I do not know of any sin that will make a man run down to ruin more quickly. I am appalled when I think of what is going on in the world; of so many young men living impure lives, and talking about the virtue of women as if it didn't amount to anything. This sin is coming in upon us like a flood at the present day. In every city there is an army of prostitutes. Young men by hundreds are being utterly ruined by this accursed sin. THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER. I think that the most infernal thing the sun shines on in America is the way woman is treated after she has been ruined by a man, often under fair promises of marriage. Some one said that when the prodigal son came home he had the best robe and the fatted calf, but what does the prodigal daughter get? Although she may have been more sinned against than sinning, she is cast out and ostracized by society. She is condemned to an almost hopeless life of degradation and shame, sinking step by step into a loathsome grave, unless she hurries her doom by suicide. But the wretch who has ruined her in body and soul, holds his head as high as ever, and society attaches no stain to him. If he had failed to pay his gambling debts or was detected cheating at cards, he would promptly be dropped by society; but he may boast of his impure life, and his companions will think nothing of it. Parents who would not allow their daughters to become acquainted with a man who is rude in manners, sometimes do not hesitate to accept the society of men who are known to be impure. Talk about stealing--a man who steals the virtue of a woman is the meanest thief that ever was on the face of the earth! One who goes into your house and steals your money is a prince compared with a vile libertine who takes the virtue of your sister, or steals the affection of your wife, and robs you of her; no sneakthief that ever walked the earth is so mean as he. How men pass laws to protect their property, but when that which is far nearer and dearer to them than money is taken, it is made light of! If a man should push a young lady into the river and she should be drowned, the law would lay hold of him, and he would be tried for murder and hung. But if he wins her affection and ruins her, and then casts her off, isn't he worse, than a murderer? There are some sins that are worse than murder, and that is one of them. If some one should treat your wife or sister so, you would want to shoot him as you would a dog. Why do you not respect all women as you do your mother and sister? "What law of justice forgives the obscene bird of prey, while it kicks out of its path the soiled and bleeding dove?" GOD'S COMING JUDGMENT. God has appointed a day when this matter will be set right. "Be not deceived: God is not mocked: whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." He will render to every man according to his deeds. You may walk down the aisle of the church and take your seat, thinking that no one knows of your sin. But God is on the throne, and He will surely bring you to judgment. Do you believe that God will allow this infernal thing to go on,--women bearing all the blame while guilty men go unpunished? God has appointed a day when He will judge this world in righteousness, and the day is fast approaching. If you are guilty of this sin, do not let the day pass until you repent. If you are living in some secret sin, or are fostering impure thoughts, make up your mind that by the grace of God you will be delivered. I don't believe a man who is guilty of this sin is ever going to see the kingdom of God unless he repents in sackcloth and ashes, and does all he can to make restitution. AN EVIL HARVEST. Even in this life adultery and uncleanness bring their awful results, both physical and mental. The pleasure and excitement that lead so many astray at the beginning soon pass away, and only the evil remains. Vice carries a sting in its tail, like the scorpion. The body is sinned against, and the body sooner or later suffers. "Every sin that a man doeth is without the body: but he that committeth fornication sinneth against his own body," said Paul. Nature herself punishes with nameless diseases, and the man goes down to the grave rotten, leaving the effects of his sin to blight his posterity. There are nations whose manhood has been eaten out by this awful scourge. It drags a man lower than the beasts. It stains the memory. I believe that memory is "the worm that never dies," and the memory is never cleansed of obscene stories and unclean acts. Even if a man repents and reforms he often has to fight the past. Lust gave Samson into the power of Delilah, who robbed him of his strength. It led David to commit murder and called down upon him the wrath of God, and if he had not repented he would have lost heaven. I believe that if Joseph had responded to the enticement of Potiphar's wife, his light would have gone out in darkness. It ends in one or other of two ways: either in remorse and shame because of the realization of the loss of purity, with a terrible struggle against a hard taskmaster; or in hardness of heart, brutalizing of the finer senses, which is a more dreadful condition. We hear a good deal about intemperance nowadays. That sin advertises itself; it shows its marks upon the face and in the conduct. But this hides itself away under the shadow of the night. A man who tampers with this evil goes on step by step until his character is blasted, his reputation ruined, his health gone, and his life made as dark as hell. May God wake up the nation to see how this awful sin is spreading! Will any one deny that the house of the strange woman is "the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death," as the Bible says? Are there not men whose characters have been utterly ruined for this life through this accursed sin? Are there not wives who would rather sink into their graves than live? Many a man went with a pure woman to the altar a few years ago, and promised to love and cherish her. Now he has given his affections to some vile harlot, and brought ruin on his wife and children! ARE YOU GUILTY? Young man, young woman, are you guilty, even in thought? Bear in mind what Christ said: "Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: but I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her has committed adultery with her already in his heart." How many would repent but that they are tied hand and foot, and some vile harlot, whose feet are fastened in hell, clings to him and says: "If you give me up, I will expose you!" Can you step on the scales and take that harlot with you? If you are guilty of this awful sin, escape for your life. Hear God's voice while there is yet time. Confess your sin to Him. Ask Him to snap the fetters that bind you. Ask Him to give you victory over your passions. If your right eye offends, pluck it out. If your right hand offends, cut it off. Shake yourself like Samson, and say: "By the grace of God I will not go down to an adulterer's grave." There is hope for you, adulterer. There is hope for you, adulteress. God will not turn you away if you truly repent. No matter how low down in vice and misery you may have sunk, you may be washed, you may be sanctified, you may be justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God. Remember what Christ said to that woman which was a sinner--"Thy sins are forgiven thee; thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace;" and to that woman that was taken in adultery--"Go, and sin no more." Eighth Commandment "Thou shalt not steal." During the time of slavery, a slave was preaching with great power. His master heard of it, and sent for him, and said: "I understand you are preaching?" "Yes," said the slave, "Well, now," said the master, "I will give you all the time you need, and I want you to prepare a sermon on the Ten Commandments, and to bear down especially on stealing, because there is a great deal of stealing on the plantation." The slave's countenance fell at once. He said he wouldn't like to do that; there wasn't the warmth in that subject there was in others. I have noticed that people are satisfied when you preach about the sins of the patriarchs, but they don't like it when you touch upon the sins of to-day. That is coming too near home. But we need to have these old doctrines stated over and over again in our churches. Perhaps it is not necessary to speak here about the grosser violations of this eighth commandment, because the law of the land looks after these; but a man or woman can steal without cracking safes and picking pockets. Many a person who would shrink from taking what belongs to another person, thinks nothing of stealing from the government or from large public corporations, such as streetcar companies. If you steal from a rich man it is as much a sin as stealing from a poor man. If you lie about the value of things you buy, are you not trying to defraud the storekeeper? "It is naught, it is naught, saith the buyer: but when he is gone his way, then he boasteth." On the other hand, many a person who would not steal himself, holds stock in companies that make dishonest profits; but "though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not go unpunished." A young man in our Bible Institute in Chicago got on the grip-car, and before the conductor came around to take the fare, they reached the Institute and he jumped off without paying his fare. In thinking over that act he said: "That was not just right. I had my ride and I ought to pay the fare." He remembered the face of the conductor, and he went to the car barns and paid him the five cents. "Well," the conductor said, "you are a fool not to keep it." "No," the young man said, "I am not. I got the ride, and I ought to have paid for it." "But it was my business to collect it." "No, it was my business to hand it to you." The conductor said, "I think you must belong to that Bible Institute." I have heard few things said of the Institute that pleased me so much as that one thing. Not long after that the conductor came to the Institute and asked the student to come to see him. A cottage-meeting was started in his house; and not only himself but a number of others around there were converted as a result of that one act. You can hardly take up a paper now without reading of some cashier of a bank who has become a defaulter, or of some large swindling operation that has ruined scores, or of some breach of trust, or fraudulent failure in business. These things are going on all over the land. I would to God that we could have all gambling swept away. If Christian men take the right stand, they can check it and break it up in a great many places. It leads to stealing. WHERE THE STREAM STARTS. The stream generally starts at home and in the school. Parents are woefully lax in their condemnation and punishment of the sin of stealing. The child begins by taking sugar, it may be. The mother makes light of it at first, and the child's conscience is violated without any sense of wrong. By and by it is not an easy matter to check the habit, because it grows and multiplies with every new commission. The value of the thing that is stolen has nothing to say to the guilt of the act. Two people were once arguing upon this point, and one said: "Well, you will not contend that a theft of a pin and of a dollar are the same to God?" "When you tell me the difference between the value of a pin and of a dollar to God," said the other, "I will answer your question." The value or amount is not what is to be considered, but whether the act is _right_ or _wrong_. Partial obedience is not enough: obedience must be entire. The little indulgences, the small transgressions are what drive religion out of the soul. They lay the foundation for the grosser sins. If you give way to little temptations, you will not be able to resist when great temptations come to you. GOD'S WEIGHTS. _Extortioner_, are you ready to step into the scales? What will you do with the condemnation of God--"Thou has taken usury and increase, and thou hast greedily gained of thy neighbor's by extortion, and hast forgotten me, saith the Lord God?" _Employer_, are you guilty of sweating your employees? Have you defrauded the hireling of his wages? Have you paid starvation wages? "Thou shalt not oppress a hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of thy brethren, or of thy strangers that are in thy land within thy gates. . . . What mean ye that ye beat my people to pieces, and grind the faces of the poor? saith the Lord God of hosts. . . . Behold, the hire of the laborers who have reaped down your fields, which is of you kept back by fraud, crieth: and the cries of them which have reaped are entered into the ears of the Lord of sabaoth." And you, _employee_, have you been honest with your employer? Have you robbed him of his due by wasting your time when he was not looking? If God should summon you into His presence now, what would you say? Let the _merchant_ step into the scales. See if you will prove light when weighed against the law of God. Are you guilty of adulterating what you sell? Do you substitute inferior grades of goods? Are your advertisements deceptive? Are your cheap prices made possible by defrauding your customers either in quantity or in quality? Do you teach your clerks to put a French or an English tag on domestic manufactures, and then sell them as imported goods? Do you tell them to say that the goods are all wool when you know they are half cotton? Do you give short weight or measure? See what God says in His Word: "Shall I count them pure with the wicked balances, and with the bag of deceitful weights? Thou shalt not have in thy bag divers weights, a great and a small: thou shalt not have in thy house divers measures, a great and a small: but thou shalt have a perfect and just weight, a perfect and just measure shalt thou have: that thy days may be lengthened in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. . . . Ye shall do no unrighteousness in judgment, in meteyard, in weight, or in measure. Just balances, just weights, a just ephah and a just hin, shall ye have." Are you like those who said: "When will the new moon be gone, that we may sell corn? and the sabbath, that we may set forth wheat, making the ephah small, and the shekel great, and falsifying the balances by deceit? that we may buy the poor for silver, and the needy for a pair of shoes; yea, and sell the refuse of the wheat?" "Show me a people whose trade is dishonest," said Fronde, "and I will show you a people whose religion is a sham." Unless your religion can keep you honest in your business, it isn't worth much; it isn't the right kind. God is a God of righteousness, and no true follower of his can swerve one inch to the right or left without disobeying Him. STOLEN GOODS A BURDEN. I heard of a boy who stole a cannon-ball from a navy-yard. He watched his opportunity, sneaked into the yard, and secured it. But when he had it, he hardly knew what to do with it. It was heavy, and too large to conceal in his pocket, so he had to put it under his hat. When he got home with it, he dared not show it to his parents, because it would have led at once to his detection. He said in after years it was the last thing he ever stole. The story is told that one of Queen Victoria's diamonds valued at $600,000 was stolen from a jeweler's window, to whom it had been given to set. A few months afterward a miserable man died a miserable death in a poor lodging-house. In his pocket was found the diamond and a letter telling how he had not dared to sell it lest it should lead to his discovery and imprisonment. It never brought him anything but anxiety and pain. Everything you steal is a curse to you in that way. The sin overreaches itself. A man who takes money that does not belong to him never gets any lasting comfort. He has no real pleasure, for he has a guilty conscience. He cannot look an honest man in the face. He loses peace of mind here, and all hope of heaven hereafter. "As the partridge sitteth on eggs, and hatcheth them not; so he that getteth riches, and not by right, shall leave them in the midst of his days, and at his end shall be a fool. . . . Let no man go beyond and defraud his brother in any matter; because that the Lord is the avenger of all such." I may be speaking to some clerk who perhaps took five cents to-day out of his employer's drawer to buy a cigar; perhaps he took ten cents to get a shave, and thinks he will put it back to-morrow--no one will ever know it. If you have taken a cent, you are a thief. Do you ever think how those little stealings may bring you to ruin? Let your employer find it out. If he doesn't take you into court, he will discharge you. Your hopes will be blasted, and it will be hard work to get up again. Whatever condition you are in, do not take a cent that does not belong to you. Rather than steal, go up to heaven in poverty--go up to heaven from the poor-house. Be honest rather than go through the world in a gilded chariot of stolen riches. RESTITUTION. If you have ever taken money dishonestly, you need not pray God to forgive you and fill you with the Holy Ghost until you make restitution. If you have not got the money now to pay back, will to do it, and God accepts the willing mind. Many a man is kept in darkness and unrest because he fails to obey God on this point. If the plough has gone deep, if the repentance is true, it will bring forth fruit. What use is there in my coming to God until I am willing to make it good, like Zacchaeus, if I have done any man wrong or have taken anything from him falsely? "If the wicked restore the pledge, give again that he had robbed, walk in the statutes of life, without committing iniquity; he shall surely live, he shall not die. None of his sins that he hath committed shall be mentioned unto him." Confession and restitution are the steps that lead up to forgiveness. Until you tread those steps, you may expect your conscience to be troubled, your sin to haunt you. I was preaching in British Columbia some years ago, and a young man came to me, and wanted to become a Christian. He had been smuggling opium into the States. "Well, my friend," I said, "I don't think there is any chance for you to become a Christian until you make restitution." He said, "If I attempt to do that, I will fall into the clutches of the law, and I will go to the penitentiary." "Well," I replied, "you had better do that than go to the judgment-seat of God with that sin upon your soul, and have eternal punishment. The Lord will be very merciful if you set your face to do right." He went away sorrowful, but came back the next day, and said: "I have a young wife and child, and all the furniture in my house I have bought with money I have got in this dishonest way. If I become a Christian, that furniture will have to go, and my wife will know it." "Better let your wife know it, and better let your home and furniture go." "Would you come up and see my wife?" he asked; "I don't know what she will say." I went up to see her, and when I told her, the tears trickled down her cheeks, and she said: "Mr. Moody, I will gladly give everything if my husband can become a true Christian." She took out her pocketbook, and handed over her last penny. He had a piece of land in the United States, which he deeded over to the government. I do not know in all my backward track of any living man who has had a better testimony for Jesus Christ than that man. He had been dishonest, but when the truth came to him that he must make it right before God would help him, he made it right and then God used him wonderfully. No amount of weeping over sin, and saying that you feel sorry, is going to help it unless you are willing to confess, and make restitution. Ninth Commandment "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor." Two out of the Ten Commandments deal with sins that find expression by the tongue--the third commandment, which forbids taking God's name in vain, and this ninth commandment, which forbids false witness against our neighbor. This two-fold prohibition ought to impress us as a solemn warning, especially as we find that the pages of Scripture are full of condemnation of sins of the tongue. The Psalms, Proverbs and the epistle of James deal largely with the subject. TRUTH NECESSARY. Organized society of a degree higher than that of the herding of animals and flocking of birds depends so much upon the power of speech, that without it we may say society would be impossible. Language is an essential element in the social fabric. To its purpose it must be trustworthy. Words must command confidence. Anything which undermines the truth takes (as it were) the mortar out of the building and if general, must mean ruin. Paul said--"Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth to his neighbor: for we are members one of another." Note the reason given--"we are members one of another." All community, all union and fellowship would be shattered if a man did not know whether to believe his neighbor or not. The transgressions of this commandment are very varied in form, and very frequent. Men and women of all ages have to guard against them. They include some of the most besetting sins. David said in his haste--"All men are liars." Some one has remarked that if he had been living nowadays, he might say it without haste and not be very far wide of the truth. PERJURY. The bearing of false witness is forbidden, but this must not be limited merely to testimony given in the law court or under oath. Isn't it a condemnation that men have to be put under oath in order to make sure of their speaking the truth? As a legal offence, _perjury_--the bearing of false witness when under oath--is one of the most serious crimes that can be committed. Nearly every civilized nation visits it with heavy punishment. Unless promptly checked, it would shake the very foundations of justice. _Lying_--uttering or acting falsehood--and _slander_--the spreading of false reports tending to destroy the reputation of another--are two of the most common violations of this commandment. LYING. We have got nowadays so that we divide lies into white lies and black lies, society lies, business lies, etc. The Word of God knows no such letting-down of the standard. A lie is a lie, no matter what are the circumstances under which it is uttered, or by whom. I have heard that in Siam they sew up the mouth of a confirmed liar. I am afraid if that was the custom in America, a good many would suffer. Parents should begin with their children while they are young and teach them to be strictly truthful at all times. There is a proverb: "A lie has no legs." It requires other lies to support it. Tell one lie and you are forced to tell others to back it up. SLANDER. You don't like to have any one bear false witness against you, or help to ruin your character or reputation: then why should you do it to others? How public men are slandered in this country! None escape, whether good or bad. Judgment is passed upon them, their family, their character, by the press and by individuals who know little or nothing about them. If one tenth that is said and written about our public men was true, half of them should be hung. Slander has been called "tongue murder." Slanderers are compared to flies that always settle on sores, but do not touch a man's good parts. If the archangel Gabriel should come down to earth and mix in human affairs, I believe his character would be assailed inside of forty-eight hours. Slander called Christ a gluttonous man and a winebibber. He claimed to be the Truth, but instead of worshipping Him, men took Him and crucified Him. When any one spoke evil of another in the presence of Peter the Great, he used promptly to stop him, and say: "Well, now, has he not got a bright side? Tell me what you know good of him. It is easy to splash mud, but I would rather help a man to keep his coat clean." I need not stop to run through the whole catalogue of sins that are related to these three. Falserumor--exaggeration--misrepresentation --insinuation--gossip--equivocation--holding back of the truth when it is due and right to tell it--disparagement--perversion of meaning: these are common transgressions of this ninth commandment, differing in form and degree of guilt according to the motive or manner of their expression. They bear false witness against a man before the tribunal of public opinion--a court whose judgment none of us escape. As so much of our life is passed in public view, any untruth that leads to a false judgment is a grievous wrong. A TEST OF TRUE RELIGION. Government of the tongue is made the test of true religion by James. "If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain. . . . For in many things we offend all. If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man, and able also to bridle the whole body:" Just as a doctor looks at the tongue and can tell the condition of the bodily health, so a man's words are an index of what is within. Truth will spring from a good heart: falsehood and deceit from a corrupt heart. When Ananias kept back part of the price of the land, Peter asked him--"Why hath Satan filled thine heart to lie unto the Holy Ghost?" Satan is the father of lies and the promoter of lies: FOR GOOD OR EVIL. The tongue can be an instrument of untold good or incalculable evil. Some one has said that a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use. "Thy tongue deviseth mischiefs; like a sharp razor, working deceitfully. . . . They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent; adders' poison is under their lips. . . . The mouth of a righteous man is a well of life: but violence covereth the mouth of the wicked. . . . A wholesome tongue is a tree of life: but perverseness therein is a breach in the spirit, . . ." Bishop Hall said that the tongues of busybodies are like the tails of Samson's foxes--they carry firebrands and are enough to set the whole field of the world in a flame. "Behold, we put bits in the horses' mouths that they may obey us; and we turn about their whole body. Behold also the ships, which though they be so great, and are driven of fierce winds, yet are they turned about with a very small helm, whithersoever the governor listeth. Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth! And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell. For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea, is tamed and hath been tamed by mankind: but the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. Therewith bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men, which are made after the similitude of God. Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not so to be. Doth a fountain send forth at the same time sweet water and bitter? Can the fig tree, my brethren, bear olive berries? either a vine figs? so can no fountain both yield salt water and fresh. Who is a wise man and endued with knowledge among you? let him shew out of a good conversation his works with meekness of wisdom. But if ye have bitter envying and strife in your hearts, glory not, and lie not against the truth." Blighted hopes and blasted reputations are witness to its awful power. In many cases the tongue has murdered its victims. Can we not all recall cases where men and women have died under the wounds of calumny and misrepresentation? History is full of such cases. WORDS NEVER CALLED BACK. The most dangerous thing about it is that a word once uttered can never be obliterated. Some one has said that lying is a worse crime than counterfeiting. There is some hope of following up bad coins until they are all recovered; but an evil word can never be overtaken. The mind of the hearer or reader has been poisoned, and human devices cannot reach in and cleanse it. Lies can never be called back. A woman who was well known as a scandal-monger, went and confessed to the priest. He gave her a ripe thistle-top, and told her to go out and scatter the seeds one by one. She wondered at the penance, but obeyed; then she came and told the priest. He next told her to go and gather again the scattered seeds. Of course she saw that it was impossible. The priest used it as an object-lesson to cure her of the sin of scandalous talk. THE FATE OF THE LIAR AND SLANDERER. These sins are devilish, and the Bible is severe in its denunciations of them. It contains many solemn warnings. "Thou shalt destroy them that speak leasing: the Lord will abhor the bloody and deceitful man. . . . The mouth of them that speak lies shall be stopped. Whoso privily slandereth his neighbor, him will I cut off. . . . Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord: but they that deal truly are His delight. . . . By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned. . . . All liars shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death." Whoso loveth and maketh a lie shall in no wise enter into the new Jerusalem. HOW TO OVERCOME. "But, Mr. Moody," you say, "how can I check myself? how can I overcome the habit of lying and gossip?" A lady once said to me that she had got so into the habit of exaggerating that her friends said they could never understand her. The cure is simple, but not very pleasant. Treat it as a sin, and confess it to God and the man whom you have wronged. As soon as you catch yourself lying, go straight to the person and confess you have lied. Let your confession be as wide as your transgression. If you have slandered or lied about any one in public, let your confession be public. Many a person says some mean, false thing about another in the presence of others, and then tries to patch it up by going to that person alone. That is not making restitution. I need not go to God with confession until I have made it right with that person, if it is in my power to do so; He will not hear me. Hannah Moore's method was a sure cure for scandal. Whenever she was told anything derogatory of another, her invariable reply was: "Come, we will go and ask if it be true." The effect was sometimes ludicrously painful. The talebearer was taken aback, stammered out a qualification, or begged that no notice might be taken of the statement. But the good lady was inexorable. Off she took the scandal-monger to the scandalized to make inquiry and compare accounts. It is not likely that anybody ventured a second time to repeat a gossipy story to Hannah Moore. My friend, how is it? If God should weigh you against this commandment, would you be found wanting? "Thou shalt not bear false witness." Are you innocent or guilty? Tenth Commandment "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor's." In the twelfth chapter of Luke our Saviour lifted two danger signals. "Beware ye of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. . . . Take heed and beware of covetousness." The greatest dupe the devil has in the world is the hypocrite; but the next greatest is the covetous man, "for a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth." I believe this sin is much stronger now than ever before in the world's history. We are not in the habit of condemning it as a sin. In his epistle to the Thessalonians Paul speaks of "the cloke of covetousness." Covetous men use it as a cloke, and call it prudence, and foresight. Who ever heard it confessed as a sin? I have heard many confessions, in public and private, during the past forty years, but never have I heard a man confess that he was guilty of this sin. The Bible does not tell of one man who ever recovered from it, and in all my experience I do not recall many who have been able to shake it off after it had fastened on them. A covetous man or woman generally remains covetous to the very end. We may say that covetous desire plunged the human race into sin. We can trace the river back from age to age until we get to its rise in Eden. When Eve saw that the forbidden fruit was good for food and that it was desirable to the eyes, she partook of it, and Adam with her. They were not satisfied with all that God had showered upon them, but coveted the wisdom of gods which Satan deceitfully told them might be obtained by eating the fruit. She saw,--she desired--then she took! Three steps from innocence into sin. A SEARCHING COMMANDMENT. It would be absurd for such a law as this to be placed upon any human statute book. It could never be enforced. The officers of the law would be powerless to detect infractions. The outward conduct may be regulated, but the thoughts and intents of a man are beyond the reach of human law. But God can see behind outward actions. He can read the thoughts of the heart. Our innermost life, invisible to mortal eye, is laid bare before Him. We cannot deceive Him by external conformity. He is able to detect the least transgression and shortcoming, so that no man can shirk detection. God cannot be imposed upon by the cleanness of the outside of the cup and the platter. Surely we have here another proof that the Ten Commandments are not of human origin, but must be divine. This commandment, then, did not, even on the surface, confine itself to visible actions as did the preceding commandments. Even before Christ came and showed their spiritual sweep, men had a commandment that went beneath public-conduct and touched the very springs of action. It directly prohibited--not the wrong act, but the wicked desire that prompted the act. It forbade the evil thought, the unlawful wish. It sought to prevent--not only sin, but the desire to sin. In God's sight it is as wicked to set covetous eyes, as it is to lay thieving hands, upon anything that is not ours. And why? Because if the evil desire can be controlled, there will be no outbreak in conduct. Desires have been called "actions in the egg." The desire in the heart is the first step in the series that ends in action. Kill the evil desire, and you successfully avoid the ill results that would follow upon its hatching and development. Prevention is better than cure. We must not limit covetousness to the matter of money. The commandment is not thus limited; it reads, "Thou shalt not covet. . . anything. . . ." That word "anything" is what will condemn us. Though we do not join in the race for wealth, have we not sometimes a hungry longing for our neighbor's goodly lands--fine houses,--beautiful clothes,--brilliant reputation,--personal accomplishments,--easy circumstances,--comfortable surroundings? Have we not had the desire to increase our possessions or to change our lot in accordance with what we see in others? If so, we are guilty of having broken this law. GODS THOUGHTS ABOUT COVETOUSNESS. Let us examine a few of the Bible passages that bear down on this sin, and see what are God's thoughts about it. "_Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves,_ nor covetous, _nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God_." Notice that the covetous are named between thieves and drunkards. We lock up thieves, and have no mercy on them. We loathe drunkards, and consider them great sinners against the law of God as well as the law of the land. Yet there is far more said in the Bible against covetousness than against either stealing or drunkenness. Covetousness and stealing are almost like Siamese twins--they go together so often. In fact we might add lying, and make them triplets. "The covetous person is a thief _in_ the shell. The thief is a covetous person _out of_ the shell. Let a covetous person see something that he desires very much; let an opportunity of taking it be offered; how very soon he will break through the shell and come out in his true character as a thief." The Greek word translated "covetousness" means--an inordinate desire of getting. When the Gauls tasted the sweet wines of Italy, they asked where they came from, and never rested until they had overrun Italy. "_For this ye know, that no whoremonger, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God_." There we have the same truth repeated; but notice that covetousness is called idolatry. The covetous man worships Mammon, not God. "_Moreover thou shalt provide out of all the people able men, such as fear God, men of truth,_ hating covetousness; _and place such over them, to be rulers of thousands, and rulers of hundreds, rulers of fifties, and rulers of tens_." Isn't it extraordinary that Jethro, the man of the desert, should have given this advice to Moses? How did he learn to beware of covetousness? We honor men to-day if they are wealthy and covetous. We elect them to office in church and state. We often say that they will make better treasurers just because we know them to be covetous. But in God's sight a covetous man is as vile and black as any thief or drunkard. David said: "The wicked boasteth of his heart's desire, and blesseth the covetous, whom the Lord abhorreth." I am afraid that many who profess to have put away wickedness also speak well of the covetous. A SORE EVIL. "_He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver; nor he that loveth abundance with increase: this is also vanity. When goods increase, they are increased that eat them: and what good is there to the owners thereof, saving the beholding of them with their eyes? The sleep of the laboring man is sweet, whether he eat little or much: but the abundance of the rich will not suffer him to sleep. There is a sore evil which I have seen under the sun, namely, riches kept for the owners thereof to their hurt_." Isn't that true? Is the covetous man ever satisfied with his possessions? Aren't they vanity? Does he have peace of mind? Don't selfish riches always bring hurt? The folly of covetousness is well shown in the following extract: "If you should see a man that had a large pond of water, yet living in continual thirst, nor suffering himself to drink half a draught for fear of lessening his pond; if you should see him wasting his time and strength in fetching more water to his pond, always thirsty, yet always carrying a bucket of water in his hand, watching early and late to catch the drops of rain, gaping after every cloud, and running greedily into every mire and mud in hopes of water, and always studying how to make every ditch empty itself into the pond; if you should see him grow grey in these anxious labors, and at last end a thirsty life by falling into his own pond, would you not say that such a one was not only the author of his own disquiet, but was foolish enough to be reckoned among madmen? But foolish and absurd as this character is, it does not represent half the follies and absurd disquiets of the covetous man." I have read of a millionaire in France, who was a miser. In order to make sure of his wealth, he dug a cave in his wine cellar so large and deep that he could go down into it with a ladder. The entrance had a door with a spring lock. After a time, he was missing. Search was made, but they could find no trace of him. At last his house was sold, and the purchaser discovered this door in the cellar. He opened it, went down, and found the miser lying dead on the ground, in the midst of his riches. The door must have shut accidentally after him, and he perished miserably. A TEMPTATION AND A SNARE. "_They that will be_, (that is, desire to be), _rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition_." The Bible speaks of the deceitfulness of two things--"the deceitfulness of _sin_" and "the deceitfulness of _riches_." Riches are like a mirage in the desert, which has all the appearance of satisfying, and lures on the traveler with the promise of water and shade; but he only wastes his strength in the effort to reach it. So riches never satisfy: the pursuit of them always turns out a snare. Lot coveted the rich plains of Sodom, and what did he gain? After twenty years spent in that wicked city, he had to escape for his life, leaving all his wealth behind him. What did the thirty pieces of silver do for Judas? Weren't they a snare? Think of Balaam. He is generally regarded as a false prophet, but I do not find that any of his prophecies that are recorded are not true; they have been literally fulfilled. Up to a certain point his character shone magnificently, but the devil finally overcame him by the bait of covetousness. He stepped over a heavenly crown for the riches and honors that Balak promised him. He went to perdition backwards. His face was set toward God, but he backed into hell. He wanted to die the death of the righteous, but he did not live the life of the righteous. It is sad to see so many who know God, miss everything for riches. Then consider the case of Gehazi. There is another man who was drowned in destruction and perdition by covetousness. He got more out of Naaman than he asked for, but he also got Naaman's leprosy. Think how he forfeited the friendship of his master Elisha, the man of God! So to-day lifelong friends are separated by this accursed desire. Homes are broken up. Men are willing to sell out peace and happiness for the sake of a few dollars. Didn't David fall into foolish and hurtful lusts? He saw Bathsheba, Uriah's wife, and she was "very beautiful to look upon," and David became a murderer and an adulterer. The guilty longing hurled him into the deepest pit of sin. He had to reap bitterly as he had sowed. I heard of a wealthy German out west, who owned a lumber mill. He was worth nearly two millions of dollars, but his covetousness was so great that he once worked as a common laborer carrying railroad ties all day. It was the cause of his death. "_And Achan answered Joshua, and said, Indeed I have sinned against the Lord God of Israel, and thus and thus have I done: When I saw among the spoils a goodly Babylonish garment, and two hundred shekels of silver, and a wedge of gold of fifty shekels weight, then I_ coveted them,_and took them; and, behold, they are hid in the earth in the midst of my tent, and the silver under it_." He saw--he coveted--he took--he hid! The covetous eye was what led Achan up to the wicked deed that brought sorrow and defeat upon the camp of Israel. We know the terrible punishment that was meted out to Achan. God seems to have set danger signals at the threshold of each new age. It is remarkable how soon the first outbreaks of covetousness occurred. Think of Eve in Eden, Achan just after Israel had entered the Promised Land, Ananias and Sapphira in the early Christian Church. A ROOT EXTRACTOR. "_For the love of money is the root of all evil, which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows_." The Revised Version translates it--"_a root of all kinds of evil_." This tenth commandment has therefore been aptly called a "root-extractor," because it would tear up and destroy this root. Deep down in our corrupt nature it has spread. No one but God can rid us of it. Matthew tells us that the deceitfulness of riches chokes the Word of God. Like the Mississippi river, which chokes up its mouth by the amount of soil it carries down. Isn't that true of many business-men to day? They are so engrossed with their affairs that they have not time for religion. They lose sight of their soul and its eternal welfare in their desire to amass wealth. They do not even hesitate to sell their souls to the devil. How many a man says, "We must make money, and if God's law stands in the way, brush it aside." The word "lucre" occurs five times in the New Testament, and each time it is called "_filthy_ lucre." "A root of all kinds of evil." Yes, because what will not men be guilty of when prompted by the desire to be rich? Greed for gold leads men to commit violence and murder, to cheat and deceive and steal. It turns the heart to stone, devoid of all natural affection, cruel, unkind. How many families are wrecked over the father's will! The scramble for a share of the wealth smashes them to pieces. Covetous of rank and position in society, parents barter sons and daughters in ungodly marriage. Bodily health is no consideration. The uncontrollable fever for gold makes men renounce all their settled prospects, and undertake hazardous journeys--no peril can drive them back. It destroys faith and spirituality, turning men's minds and hearts away from God. It disturbs the peace of the community by prompting to acts of wrong. Covetousness has more than once led nation to war against nation for the sake of gaining territory or other material resources. It is said that when the Spaniards came over to conquer Peru, they sent a message to the king, saying, "Give us gold, for we Spaniards have a disease that can only be cured by gold." Dr. Boardman has shown how covetousness leads to the transgression of every one of the commandments, and I cannot do better than quote his words: "Coveting tempts us into the violation of the first commandment, worshipping Mammon in addition to Jehovah. Coveting tempts us into a violation of the second commandment, or idolatry. The apostle Paul expressly identifies the covetous man with an idolater: 'Covetousness, which is idolatry.' Again: Coveting tempts us into violation of the third commandment, or sacrilegious falsehood: for instance, Gehazi, lying in the matter of his interview with Naaman the Syrian, and Ananias and Sapphira, perjuring themselves in the matter of the community of goods. Again: Coveting tempts us into the violation of the fourth commandment, or Sabbath-breaking. It is covetousness which encroaches on God's appointed day of sacred rest, tempting us to run trains for merely secular purposes, to vend tobacco and liquors, to hawk newspapers. Again: Coveting tempts us into the violation of the fifth commandment, or disrespect for authority; tempting the young man to deride his early parental counsels, the citizen to trample on civic enactments. Again: Covetousness tempts us into violation of the sixth commandment, or murder. Recall how Judas' love of money lured him into the betrayal of his Divine Friend into the hand of His murderers, his lure being the paltry sum of--say--fifteen dollars. Again: Covetousness tempts us into the violation of the seventh commandment, or adultery. Observe how Scripture combines greed and lust. Again: Covetousness tempts us into the violation of the eighth commandment, or theft. Recall how it tempted Achan to steal a goodly Babylonish mantle, and two hundred shekels of silver, and a wedge of gold of fifty shekels weight. Again: Covetousness tempts us into the violation of the ninth commandment, or bearing false witness against our neighbor. Recall how the covetousness of Ahab instigated his wife Jezebel to employ sons of Belial to bear blasphemous and fatal testimony against Naboth, saying, 'Thou didst curse God and the king.'" HOW TO OVERCOME. You ask me how you are to cast this unclean spirit out of your heart? I think I can tell you. In the first place, make up your mind that by the grace of God you will overcome the spirit of selfishness. You must overcome it, or it will overcome you. Paul said: "Mortify therefore your members which are upon the earth; fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affection, evil concupiscence, and covetousness, which is idolatry: for which things' sake the wrath of God cometh on the children of disobedience." I heard of a rich man who was asked to make a contribution on behalf of some charitable object. The text was quoted to him--"He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord; and that which he hath given will He pay him again." He said that the security might be good enough, but the credit was too long. He was dead within two weeks. The wrath of God rested upon him as he never expected. If you find yourself getting very miserly, begin to scatter, like a wealthy farmer in New York state I heard of. He was a noted miser, but he was converted. Soon after, a poor man who had been burned out and had no provisions, came to him for help. The farmer thought he would be liberal and give the man a ham from his smoke-house. On his way to get it, the tempter whispered to him: "Give him the smallest one you have." He had a struggle whether he would give a large or a small ham, but finally he took down the largest he could find. "You are a fool," the devil said. "If you don't keep still," the farmer replied, "I will give him every ham I have in the smoke house." Mr. Durant told me he woke up one morning to find that he was a rich man, and he said that the greatest struggle of his life then took place as to whether he would let money be his master, or he be master of money, whether he would be its slave, or make it a slave to him. At last he got the victory, and that was how Wellesley College came to be built. In the next place, cultivate the spirit of contentment. "Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for He hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me." Contentment is the very opposite of covetousness, which is continually craving for something it does not possess. "Be content with such things as ye have," not worrying about the future, because God has promised never to leave or forsake you. What does the child of God want more than this? I would rather have that promise than all the gold of the earth. Would to God we might all be able to say with Paul--"I have coveted no man's silver, or gold, or apparel." The Lord had made him partaker of His grace, and he was soon to be a partaker of His glory, and earthly things looked very small. "Godliness with contentment is great gain," he wrote to Timothy; "having food and raiment, therewith let us be content." Observe that he puts godliness first. No worldly gain can satisfy the human heart. Roll the whole world in, and still there would be room. May God tear the scales off our eyes if we are blinded by this sin. Oh, the folly of it, that we should set our heart's affections upon anything below! "For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. . . . Be thou not afraid when one is made rich, when the glory of his house is increased; for when he dieth he shall take nothing away: his glory shall not descend after him." The Handwriting Blotted Out We have now considered the Ten Commandments, and the question for each one of us is--are we keeping them? If God should weigh us by them, would we be found wanting or not wanting? Do we keep the law, the _whole_ law? Are we obeying God with all our heart? Do we render Him a full and willing obedience? ONE LAW, NOT TEN. These ten commandments are not ten different laws; they are one law. If I am being held up in the air by a chain with ten links and I break one of them, down I come, just as surely as if I break the whole ten. If I am forbidden to go out of an enclosure, it makes no difference at what point I break through the fence. "Whosoever shall keep the whole law and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all." "The golden chain of obedience is broken if one link is missing." We sometimes hear people pray to be preserved from certain sins, as if they were in no danger of committing others. I firmly believe that if a man begins by wilfully breaking one of these commandments it is much easier for him to break the others. I know of a gentleman who had a confidential clerk, and insisted on his going down Sunday morning to work on his books. The young man had a good deal of principle, and at first refused, but he was anxious to keep in the good graces of his employer and finally yielded. He had not done that a great while before he speculated in stocks, and became a defaulter for $120,000. The employer had him arrested and put in the penitentiary for ten years, but I believe he was just as guilty in the sight of God as that young man, for he led him to take the first step on the downward road. You remember the story of a soldier who was smuggled into a fortress in a load of hay, and opened the gates to his comrades. Every sin we commit opens the door for other sins. ALL HAVE COME SHORT. For fifteen hundred years man was under the law, and no one was equal to it. Christ came and showed that the commandments went beyond the mere letter; and can any one since say that he has been able to keep them in his own strength? As the plummet is held up, we see how much we are out of the perpendicular. As we measure ourselves by that holy standard, we find how much we are lacking. As a child said, when reproved by her mother and told that she ought to do right: "How can I do right when there is no 'right' in me?" All have sinned and come short of the glory of God. There is none righteous, no, not one. I do not say that all are equally guilty of gross violations of the commandments. It needs a certain amount of reckless courage openly to break a law, human or divine; but it is easy to _crack_ them, as the child said. It has been remarked that the life of many professors of religion is full of fractures that result from little sins, little acts of temper and selfishness. It is possible to crack a costly vase so finely that it cannot be noticed by the observer; but let this be done again and again in different directions, and some day the vase will go to pieces at a touch. When we hear of some one who has had a lifelong reputation for good character and consistent living, suddenly falling into some shameful sin, we are shocked and puzzled. If we knew all, we would find that only the fall has been sudden, that he has been sliding toward it for years. Away back in his life we should find numerous _cracked_ commandments. His exposure is only the falling of the vase to pieces. FALSE WEIGHTS. Men have all sorts of weights that they think are going to satisfy, but they will find that they are altogether vanity, and lighter than vanity. The moral man is as guilty as the rest. His morality cannot save him. "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. . . . Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." I have often heard good people say that our meetings were doing good, they were reaching the drunkards, and gamblers, and harlots; but they never realized that they needed the grace of God for themselves. Nicodemus was probably one of the most moral men of his day. He was a teacher of the law. Yet Christ said to him: "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." It is much easier to reach was a Lamb without spot or blemish, His atoning death is efficacious for you and me. He had no sin of His own to atone for, and so God accepted His sacrifice. Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth. We are righteous in God's sight because the righteousness of God which is by faith in Jesus Christ is unto all and upon all them that believe. If we had to live forever with our sins in the handwriting of God on the wall, it would be hell on earth. But thank God for the gospel we preach! If we repent, our sins will all be blotted out. "You, being dead in your sins, hath He quickened together with Him, having forgiven you all your trespasses, blotting out the handwriting of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to His cross." LOVE THE FULFILLING OF THE LAW. If the love of God is shed abroad in your heart, you will be able to fulfil the law. Paul reduced the commandments to one: "Love is the fulfilling of the law." Some one has written the following: "Love to God will admit no other God. Love resents everything that debases its object by representing it by an image. Love to God will never dishonor His name. Love to God will reverence His day. Love to parents makes one honor them. Hate, not love, is a murderer. Lust, not love, commits adultery. Love will give, but never steal. Love will not slander or lie. Love's eye is not covetous." ARE YOU READY? It is the height of madness to turn away and run the risk of being called by God to judgment and have no hope in Christ. Now is the day and hour to accept salvation, and then He will be with you. Do you step aside and say: "I'm not ready yet. I want a little more time to prepare, to turn the matter over in my mind?" Well, you have time, but bear in mind it is only the present; you do not know that you will have to-morrow. Wasn't Belshazzar cut off suddenly? Would he have believed that that was going to be his last night, that he would never see the light of another sun? That banquet of sin didn't close as he expected. As long as you delay you are in danger. If you don't enter into the kingdom of heaven by God's way, you cannot enter at all. You must accept Christ as your Savior, or you will never be fit to be weighed. My friend, have you got Him? Will you remain as you are and be found wanting, or will you accept Christ and be ready for the summons? "This is the record, that God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. He that hath the Son hath life: and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life." May God open your heart to receive His Son now! WORKS BY G. CAMPBELL MORGAN The Crises of the Christ. 8vo, cloth, net, $2.00 The Spirit of God. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. A First Century Message to Twentieth Century Christians. 12mo, cloth, net, $1.00. God's Methods with Man; In Time--Past, Present and Future. 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60915	----	book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Books project.) [Illustration: Frontispiece.] DISCOURSES ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS DISCOURSES ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS, By JACOB DUCHÉ, M. A. Rector of Christ-Church and St. Peter's, in Philadelphia; AND FORMERLY OF CLARE-HALL, CAMBRIDGE. The SECOND EDITION. VOL I. LONDON; Printed by J. Phillips, George-Yard, Lombard-Street. And Sold by T. Cadell, in the Strand; H. Payne, Pall-Mall; C. Dilly, in the Poultry; and J. Phillips. M.DCC.LXXX. [Illustration: Pelham Pinx.] TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY JULIANA PENN. Madam, I have ever deemed it one of the most favourable circumstances of my life, that your Ladyship condescended to honour my early youth with your kind countenance and protection. Your amiable character, and exemplary virtues, have always thrown such a lustre around you, as could not but enlighten and improve those, who came within their influence. This testimony from me, is no more than the just tribute of a grateful heart. I am, therefore, happy, in having your Ladyship's permission to inscribe to you the following discourses. You are no stranger to the sentiments they contain: you love and honour the doctrines they inculcate. The author intreats to be indulged with a continuance of that regard, which your Ladyship hath hitherto shewn him; and which he hath always held more desirable, in proportion as he hath been better qualified to judge of what is truly honourable and estimable in the intercourses of social life. With this sentiment deeply impressed upon his mind, he cannot but rejoice in the opportunity your Ladyship hath granted him, of thus publickly subscribing himself, Madam, Your Ladyship's Most obliged and Most faithful Servant, J. DUCHÉ. PREFACE. The following discourses were preached in the united Churches of Christ Church and St. Peter, in the City of Philadelphia, of which the author was appointed assistant minister in the year 1759, and to the rectorship of which he was elected in the year 1775. The reader will find in them no display of genius or of erudition. To the former, the author hath no claim: of the latter, he contents himself with as much as is competent to the discharge of his pastoral duty. His divinity, he trusts, is that of the BIBLE: to no other Standard of Truth can he venture to appeal. Sensible, however, of his own fallibility, he wishes not to obtrude his peculiar sentiments; nor to have them received any further, than they carry with them that only fair title to reception, a conviction of their truth and usefulness. From his own Heart he hath written to the Hearts of others; and if any of his readers find not THERE the Ground of his doctrines, they are, surely, at liberty to pass them by, if they do it with Christian Candour, and to leave it to time and their own reflections, to discover that Ground or not. UNIVERSAL BENEVOLENCE he considers as the SUBLIME of religion; the true TASTE for which, can only be derived from the Fountain of INFINITE LOVE, by inward and spiritual communications. The mind, that is possessed of this true Taste, whatever its peculiarity of opinion may be, cannot be very "far from the Kingdom of God."--"GOD is LOVE; and he that dwelleth in LOVE, dwelleth in GOD, and GOD in him." One transgression of the great Law of Love, even in the minutest instance, must appear more heinous in the Sight of the GOD OF LOVE, than a thousand errors in matters of doctrine or opinion. If the reader peruses these volumes under the influence of such sentiments, it is not likely, that he will be offended with any singularities of diction, or any inelegant and colloquial expressions he may now and then meet with. Much less will his censure be incurred by the constant use of SCRIPTURAL Ideas, and SCRIPTURAL Language, in preference to what are called MORAL and PHILOSOPHICAL. Deviations from the Simplicity of EVANGELICAL TRUTH, have too often been occasioned by deviations from the Simplicity of EVANGELICAL LANGUAGE. A Christian ought never to be "ashamed of the GOSPEL OF CHRIST which is the Power of GOD unto Salvation," but should always speak of Christian Truths by Christian Names. The revisal and correction of these discourses have relieved the author's mind from much of that anxiety and dejection, which a long absence from his family and his churches had occasioned. And he is now happy in the thought, that these volumes will ere long reach his native country, and revive the memory of his labours of love among a people, with whom he enjoyed a reciprocation of kindness and affection, which for eighteen years had known no abatement or interruption. He most gratefully acknowledges the kind and honourable reception he hath met with since his arrival in England; the chearfulness and generosity with which persons of all ranks have honoured his publication; and the affectionate zeal of his friends, relations, and connexions, in undertaking and completing his subscription, without giving him the trouble of soliciting a single name. To his most ingenious and worthy Friend and Countryman, BENJAMIN WEST, Esq. History Painter to his Majesty, he is happy to acknowledge himself indebted for the elegant designs, taken from two of his most capital paintings, which are placed as frontispieces to these volumes. To his dear and valuable friend, the Author of the late accurate and elegant Translation of THOMAS à KEMPIS, he is sincerely thankful for his kind and chearful advice and assistance, in conducting the whole publication, to which the author's inexperience in printing, as well as his frequent and necessary absence from the press, would have rendered him altogether unequal. He hath only to add, that the revisal and publishing of these discourses was undertaken at the instance of some of the most respectable names in the list of his subscribers to the first edition, under whose kind patronage, and in hopes of every indulgence from the candour of the publick, he hath ventured to send them abroad. Hampstead, 1st March, 1780. CONTENTS OF VOLUME FIRST. DISCOURSE I. THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM'S CHILDREN. St. LUKE, CHAP. vii. VER. 35. "But Wisdom is justified of all her Children." DISCOURSE II. EVANGELICAL RIGHTEOUSNESS. JEREM. CHAP. xxiii. Part of VER. 6. "And this is his Name, whereby he shall be called, The LORD our Righteousness." DISCOURSES III. and IV. THE RELIGION OF JESUS, THE ONLY SOURCE OF HAPPINESS. St. JOHN, CHAP. vi. VER. 66, 67, 68. "From that Time many of his Disciples went back, and walked no more with him. Then said JESUS unto the Twelve, Will ye also go away? Then Simon Peter answered, LORD, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the Words of Eternal Life." DISCOURSE V. TRUE RELIGION, A COSTLY AND CONTINUAL SACRIFICE. 2 SAMUEL, CHAP. xxiv. VER. 24. "And the King said unto Araunah, Nay, but I will surely buy it of thee at a Price: neither will I offer Burnt-Offerings unto the LORD my GOD, of that which doth cost me nothing." DISCOURSE VI. TRUTH, THE ONLY FRIEND OF MAN. GALATIANS, CHAP. iv. VER. 16. "Am I therefore become your Enemy, because I tell you the Truth?" DISCOURSE VII. THE STRENGTH AND VICTORY OF FAITH. 1 JOHN, CHAP. v. VER. 4. "Whatsoever is born of GOD overcometh the World: and this is the Victory that overcometh the World, even our Faith." DISCOURSE VIII. FAITH TRIUMPHANT OVER THE POWERS OF DARKNESS. St. MARK, CHAP. ix. Part of VER. 24. "LORD, I believe: Help thou mine Unbelief!" DISCOURSE IX. THE FLOURISHING STATE OF THE RIGHTEOUS. PSALM i. VER. 3. "He shall be like a Tree planted by the Rivers of Water, that bringeth forth his Fruit in his Season: His Leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever he doth shall prosper." DISCOURSE X. THE CAUSE AND CURE OF THE DISORDERS OF HUMAN NATURE. St. MARK, CHAP. vii. VER. 34. "And looking up to Heaven, he sighed; and saith unto him, Ephphatha! that is, Be opened." DISCOURSES XI, XII, XIII. THE RICHES, PRIVILEGES, AND HONOURS OF THE CHRISTIAN. 1 COR. CHAP. iii. VER. 21, 22, 23. "Therefore let no Man glory in Men: for all Things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the World, or Life, or Death, or Things present, or Things to come; all are yours: and ye are CHRIST'S, and CHRIST is GOD'S." DISCOURSE XIV. CHRIST, KNOWN OR UNKNOWN, THE UNIVERSAL SAVIOUR. St. JOHN, CHAP. xiv. Part of VER. 9. "Have I been so long Time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?" DISCOURSE XV. HUMAN LIFE, A PILGRIMAGE. PSALM xxxix. Part of VER. 12. "For I am a Stranger with thee, and a Sojourner, as all my Fathers were." DISCOURSE XVI, XVII. THE TRUE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD INTERNAL AND PRACTICAL. JOB, CHAP. xlii. VER. 5, 6. "I have heard of thee by the Hearing of the Ear; but now hath mine Eye seen thee: therefore I abhor myself, and repent in Dust and Ashes." DISCOURSE XVIII. ON THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. St. LUKE, CHAP. ii. from VER. 6, to 20. "And so it was, that while they were there, the Days were accomplished, that she should be delivered," &c. SUBSCRIBERS NAMES OMITTED IN THE FIRST EDITION. Rev. Dr. Allanson, Rector of Rippon, Yorkshire Mrs. Ambler, of Queen-Square Mr. George Adams Lady Boynton, Burton Agnes, Yorkshire Rev. Mr. Bull, Rector of Sarensfield, Herefordsh. Rev. Mr. Baker Miss F. Baker Robert Burton, Esq. Rich. Wilbraham Bootle, Esq. Francis Bernard, Esq. Charles Barker, Esq. Rev. Mr. Cook, Rector of Semer, Suffolk Richard Combe, Esq. Harley-street Mrs. Cotin, Upper Grosvenor-street Mrs. Festing, Weymouth Mr. George Fletcher Mr. Francis Freshfield, Colchester James Gordon, Esq. Glasgow William Grover, Esq. Mr. Robert Grimditch Mrs. Garnett Capt. Grindall T. Grosley, Esq. Mr. Greenwood E. Gurney Hon. and Rev. Mr. Hamilton Mrs. Hyde, Bedford-row Mr. James Hingeston Mr. Handcock, of Bath Rev. Mr. Harris Mrs. Hall, of Tottenham Mr. Healy, of Cambridge Tho. Johnson, Esq. Bradford Rev. Jonathan Judson, Essex Rev. Mr. Lantley, Prebendary of Hereford Dr. Lysons, of Bath Mrs. Levison Rev. Mr. Myddleton, Fellow of Clare-Hall W. Middleton, Esq. Bath Robert M'Kerrel, Esq. Rt. Hon. Countess Dowager of Northampton Mr. Nairne Henry O'Carroll, Esq. J. Palmer, Esq. of Bath Rev. Thomas Pryse, Norwich Mrs. Puget, Red Lionsquare Tho. Rogers, Esq. Bradford Robert Rasleigh, Esq. Mr. Thomas Smith Rich. Statham, Esq. Leverpool Mrs. Schaak, of York William Tompkins, Esq. Abingdon Mrs. Tuson, Bath William Taylor, Esq. of Worcester-Park, Surry Mr. Wm. Taylor, London Hon. Charles Vane, of Mount Ida, Norfolk Mr. Vickary Mr. Joseph Wrightman Rev. Dr. Watkins, Preb. of Hereford Rev. Dr. Wharton, of Barbadoes George Wilson, Esq. of Bedford Row Mr. Thomas Weston, jun. Mr. Joseph Woods Mrs. Wilding, Red Lionsquare Mrs. Wright, Thunder-Hall, Herts Miss Witts, Bath Witham Book Society DISCOURSE I. The Character of Wisdom's Children. St. LUKE, CHAP. vii, VER. 35. "BUT WISDOM IS JUSTIFIED OF ALL HER CHILDREN." If we take an impartial view of the sentiments and conduct of mankind with respect to religion, we shall find, that their errors in speculation, as well as in practice, originate, for the most part, in the will; that their understandings are blinded by their passions, and that their ignorance of truth too often proceeds from their aversion to goodness. To combat this prevailing depravity of human nature, and to strike at that root of evil which we bring with us into the world, was the grand and principal design of all those different dispensations, by which Heaven hath condescended, from time to time, to speak to the sons of men. Instead, however, of yielding a grateful attention to this benevolent purpose, they have, in some instances, wholly rejected, and, in others, perversly misconstrued, the dispensations themselves. Whether "GOD spake at sundry times, and in divers manners, in times past, unto the fathers by the prophets;" or, whether he spake, as in these latter days, to the children, by his own INCARNATE SON; the generality of men have either been deaf to the salutary message, or have availed themselves of some idle pretexts to elude a compliance with its most serious and solemn contents. Hence arose the inattention and opposition of ancient unbelievers, to the missions of patriarchs and prophets; and hence it is, that infidels of later ages have called in question the truth and authority of that most full and complete Revelation of the Divine Will, with which mankind have been favoured by the ministration of the BLESSED JESUS. Far, however, from resenting their obstinacy, or indignantly with-holding from them any further communications of Divine Light, the great GOD AND FATHER OF SPIRITS hath still persevered in carrying on the purposes of his Love; and, "whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear," still seeks, by a variety of dispensations, to gain possession of the hearts of his creatures. Notwithstanding, therefore, the general indifference and obstinacy that have prevailed, there have not been wanting, in every age and nation, some docile virtuous minds, who have listened to the Heavenly Voice, and received with gratitude the instructions of that "Wisdom which is from above;" and who, as her true children, have vindicated her ways to man, and admired and justified the different methods by which she manifests herself to different souls. The truth of these observations we find remarkably exemplified in that conduct and behaviour of the Jews, and particularly of the sect of the Pharisees, which is mentioned in the verses preceding my text, and which indeed gave rise to the pertinent and beautiful maxim there expressed. Ignorant of the spirit of that dispensation under which they lived, and perversely attached to those externals of their religion, that most gratified their pride and selfishness, they seem to have been equally offended with the doctrines and manners of John the Baptist, and those of the BLESSED JESUS. And though the grand object of the Master and his Forerunner was one and the same, even the reformation of the heart and life; and though the outward means, however inconsistent they might appear, were but different parts of the same spiritual and redeeming process; yet these degenerate Israelites sought to stifle the power of conviction in their breasts, by childishly objecting to the abstracted, severe, and rigorous life of the Baptist on the one hand, and the easy, open, and condescending behaviour of JESUS on the other; insinuating, that the former was only the effect of a gloomy, dark, and diabolical spirit; and that the latter shewed a familiarity and levity, unworthy the character of a prophet sent from GOD. Our BLESSED LORD exposes the weakness and inconsistency of these objections, by the following apt and lively similitude: "Whereunto shall I liken the men of this generation, and to what are they like? They are like unto children sitting in the market-place, and calling one to another, and saying, We have piped unto you, and ye have not danced; we have mourned unto you, and ye have not wept." That is to say: We have taken every method we could devise to engage your attention, and to prevail upon you to bear a part in our recreations; but you have unkindly and sullenly refused to come. We have endeavoured to adapt our little sports and exercises to what we conceived might be your particular taste and humour; but still we have failed of success. In application of this allusion, our LORD proceeds--"For John the Baptist came neither eating bread, nor drinking wine; and ye say, He hath a devil." The austerity of the Baptist's life, which was meant to inculcate a lesson of self-denial, and abstraction from the follies and vanities of a worldly life, as well as a solemn preparation for the happiness of an heavenly one, ye maliciously declare to have proceeded from the melancholy suggestion of some dark and evil spirit, that hurried him into the desart, and secluded him from all affectionate intercourse with men. On the other hand, because "the Son of man is come eating and drinking, ye say, Behold a gluttonous man, and a wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners!" To answer the great purposes of Divine Love, I have, with condescending freedom, mingled with all ranks of people; put myself in the way of the giddy and the profligate, and even accepted the invitations of publicans and sinners. For this, without knowing the motives of my conduct, you have vilified me with the opprobrious names of glutton and drunkard; and insinuated, that the friendly attention I shewed to men of their character, proceeded not from a regard to their souls, but from a fondness for their vices. But notwithstanding your blindness and obduracy, notwithstanding your weak and wicked misconstructions, be assured, there are those, who can do justice to these dispensations of Heaven, whose minds, illuminated from above, can discern the beauty, propriety, and uniformity of design, which Wisdom manifests in these various methods of addressing herself to the sons of men. Such children of Wisdom are abundantly convinced, that the self-denying life of the Baptist was necessarily preparative to that meek, gentle, condescending Life of Love, which I have inculcated in my precepts, and recommended and enforced by my example; and that both these are the happy effects of that Redeeming Power, which I manifest in the hearts of those, who, with simplicity and self-abasement, receive and gratefully acknowledge my spiritual salutary visits. "But Wisdom is justified of all her children." The truth was this: the Pharisees considered the severe exercises of John, his contempt of the world, and total disregard of the pleasures and honours of life, as a personal censure of their hypocritical pretensions to religion, by which, under the appearance of great zeal for the external and ceremonial parts of the law, they "sought the praises of men, more than the praises of God." In like manner, the humility and condescension of CHRIST, his free and affectionate intercourse with all ranks of people, even with those, whom (on account of their ignorance of some minute traditionary precepts of their Rabbins) they held accursed, were a perpetual impeachment of their intolerable pride and arrogance, and most effectually tended to lessen their credit and reputation with those whom they wished and earnestly sought to engage for their pupils and admirers. No wonder, then, that whilst they continued thus attached to favourite passions and prejudices, they should wilfully misconstrue the purest intentions, and vilify the fairest actions of those, who attempted to combat and expose them. Their objections to the person and doctrines of CHRIST, as well as to those of his illustrious Harbinger, came rather from their wills than their understandings: nor would they ever have called in question the Divine authority of their missions, had not the design and spirit of them militated against their own evil tempers and dispositions: "Light was come unto them; but they chose darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil." In every age of the world, and under every dispensation of religion, human nature, in itself, has always been the same. The serpentine subtilty of human reason, when engaged in the service, and acting under the influence of vice and error, will never be at a loss for arguments to support their cause against the voice of truth and virtue. Hence the specious objections, which modern infidelity hath thrown out against the necessity of Divine Revelation; and hence the weak and idle censures, which libertinism on the one hand, and false enthusiasm on the other, so illiberally denounce against the sincere, honest, and cordial votaries of true Christianity. Sincerely to be pitied is the poor unbeliever, whose short-sighted reason, incapable of seeing further than the externals of Christianity, furnishes him with some plausible objections, that seem to weaken its outward evidence, but cannot reach the spirit and power by which it is animated and supported. "Christianity was instituted for the common salvation of all men: its essential truths, therefore, are plain and obvious, level to every capacity, and stand in no need of learned labour to inculcate and explain them; they are rather matter of feeling, than of reasoning. "Whatever is within, whatever is without us, calls aloud for a SAVIOUR. Change, corruption, distemperature and death, have, by the sin of fallen angels, and of fallen man, been unhappily introduced into this system of things which we inhabit. The whole creation groaneth; and animals and vegetables, and even the Immortal Image of GOD himself in man, are all in bondage to their malign influences; so that every thing cries out, with the apostle Paul, "Who shall deliver me from this body of death?" so that every thing cries out, with the apostle Peter, "Lord, save me, or I perish!" "What kind of a Saviour then is it, for whom all nature thus cries aloud, through all her works? Not a dry moralist, a legislator of bare external precepts, such as some would represent CHRIST to be: no, the existence and influence of the REDEEMER OF NATURE, must, at least, be as extensive as Nature herself. Things are defiled and corrupted throughout; they are distempered and devoted to death, from the inmost essence of their being; and none, but HE alone, "in whom they live, and move, and have their being," can possibly redeem and restore them." These are inevitable truths, which all men, at some time or other, must feel, and feel deeply too, whether they attend to them now or not. The redemption and restoration of every sinner can be accomplished in no other way, than by CHRIST'S spiritual entrance into his heart, awakening in him an abhorrence of evil, and a love of goodness. This is the spirit of the GOSPEL OF JESUS; this the grand purpose of Heaven, under every dispensation of Revealed Truth, from Adam down to this day. The modes of communication, the outward forms of worship and of doctrine, may vary; but the same spirit runs through the whole, and the enlightened eye of "Wisdom's children" can see and adore her radiant footsteps, in paths that appear dark and dreary to the eyes of others. However her outward garb may change; whatever different appearances she may put on, under the patriarchal, legal, and evangelical dispensations; her real features, her whole person and employment, have ever been invariably the same. These different appearances were only adapted to the different circumstances of men, and calculated to direct their attention to the one great and principal object she has always had in view, even the Redemption of immortal spirits from the tyranny of earth and hell, and the full restoration of them to their primeval innocence and bliss. Turn then, ye advocates of infidelity! O turn back from those delusive dangerous paths, into which the false light of fallen reason hath led your wayward steps. Wisdom herself, and all her true and Heaven-born children, lift up their sweet and instructive voices, and press you to return; to recognize your illustrious origin; to spurn the transitory and polluting joys of earth, and to aspire after the pure and permanent pleasures of Heaven! From the Throne of the Most-High, the center of her enlightened kingdom, she speaks, she illuminates, she warms every intelligent being that turns to her benignant ray: the darkness of nature kindles, at her approach, into the Light and Life of Heaven; every evil principle, every evil passion, shrinks from before her, and retires to its native hell; whilst the spirits of her redeemed children issue forth from their long captivity, and triumphantly re-enter the realms of purity and peace. Who would not wish, then, to become a votary, a pupil, a child of Wisdom? But how is this privilege to be obtained? what path must we pursue, that will lead us to her delightful mansion? what conduct must we observe, that will entitle us to be members of her illustrious household? Must we put on the raiment of camel's hair, and the leathern girdle; follow the mortified Baptist into the desert, and feed upon locusts and wild honey? Or must we not rather adopt the gentler manners of the HOLY JESUS, mix with the world as he did, and chearfully employ ourselves in acts of kindness and brotherly love? It is evident from the whole passage of Scripture, of which my text is part, that our Lord blames the Jews no less for their disregard of the ministry of John, than for the contempt with which they treated himself; and plainly intimates, that, by the Children of Wisdom, we are to understand all those who see the Baptist's ministry in its true point of view, viz. as introductory and preparatory to his own; and in consequence of this are fully convinced, that the chearfulness of Faith, and the sweetness and condescension of Love, must naturally be preceded by the severity of Repentance, and the salutary bitterness of sorrow and contrition. "Repent ye, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand," said the Harbinger of the SON of GOD: "The Kingdom of GOD is come; he that believeth shall be saved;" said the SON of GOD himself. "Repentance, therefore, and Faith working by Love," are the sure characteristics of Wisdom's Children. It is not, therefore, any distinguishing peculiarity of the Baptist's character, the outward garb, or the outward deportment, that we are to assume, but an inward temper and frame of mind corresponding to both. A deep sensibility of the evils and infirmities of our fallen nature, an heart-felt conviction of the guilt and misery of sin, and a penitential sorrow for our own numberless lapses and deviations from the path of virtue, are the true Harbingers of CHRIST in our hearts. When, under their powerful ministration, we find ourselves called, not perhaps to a life of outward solitude and mortification, but of inward retirement and abstraction from the world; in the language of Scripture, "we repent, we are converted:" we turn our backs upon every gay and glittering scene, which worldly honour, wealth, or pleasure, can exhibit; we find nothing in any of them, that can give a moment's real peace or rest to our "weary heavy laden" souls; we are humbled to the dust; we feel ourselves, as "worms, and not men," as "less than the least of GOD'S mercies." In this mortified, penitent, and afflicted state, which is mercifully intended to bring us to a proper sense of our helplessness by nature, and of the indispensable necessity of Divine Supernatural assistance, we must remain, till the happy effect is produced, and till GOD is graciously pleased to call us out of the wilderness. The Harbinger then hath fulfilled his office; "The Lamb of GOD" appears "to take away the sins of the world;" "The kingdom of heaven is come" into our hearts. To sorrow and disquietude, succeed sweet peace and heavenly composure of mind: the understanding is enlightened; the will receives a new and happy direction; a new principle animates our whole frame, a new conduct appears in our whole life and conversation: the Spirit of Love breathes and acts in every duty we are called to perform, in every little office, which common civility and politeness requires us to do, even to those, who have yet no taste or desire for the sublime comforts of religion. Thus it is, that Wisdom is justified of all her Children; and thus it appears, that the Religion of the Gospel, which is the only True Wisdom, is a RELIGION OF LOVE. A LIFE OF LOVE, therefore, is the best, the only evidence, which its disciples can give, of the sincerity of their profession; and the surest method they can take of recommending it to others. "Let your light, then, so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in Heaven." DISCOURSE II. Evangelical Righteousness. JEREMIAH, CHAP. xxiii. VERSE 6. "AND THIS IS HIS NAME, WHEREBY HE SHALL BE CALLED, THE LORD OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS." The great and essential distinction betwixt the legal and evangelical dispensation, is accurately pointed out by the Apostle, where he tells us, that "the law is but the shadow of good things to come, and not the very image of the things." Its types, ceremonies, and outward ordinances, are taken from the objects of temporal nature, which are, at best, but shadowy representations of Eternal Truth. "The comers thereunto could never be perfected," by the most minute observation of its external rites. The pious, spiritual Jews, therefore, must have looked further than these, and considered every outward purification, as figuratively expressive of an inward cleansing to be performed in their hearts. Moses, their inspired Legislator, and the prophets that succeeded him, did not fail to acquaint them with the immediate and necessary reference of these temporal symbols to Spiritual and Eternal Truths. Nevertheless, it appears but too evident, from the whole Jewish history, that the generality rested their hopes of salvation, merely upon their outward law: "They went about to establish a righteousness of their own," founded upon a strict observance of the Levitical ceremonies, which were only adapted to their present circumstances, without paying the least attention to that Inward Law of Righteousness, to which these ceremonies referred. Hence it was, that their prophets were directed by the Most High, to express, in the strongest terms, his disapprobation of those very ordinances, which he himself had originally instituted for their good; and to tell them, that "he had no pleasure in their burnt-offerings and sacrifices, that their oblations were vain, and that incense was an abomination in his sight." His displeasure was not with the ordinances themselves; for, if considered and observed with proper views and dispositions, they would have been subservient to the most glorious purposes: but he was offended with the gross and flagrant abuses of them, which the people were daily committing. Hence also it was, that the same inspired prophets, when the hand of the HIGHEST drew aside the curtain of futurity, and exhibited to their astonished view the successive displays of Gospel Light and Truth, with all that variety of heavenly scenery, which his INCARNATE SON was to open upon our benighted world; hence it was, I say, that the same inspired prophets were particularly careful to distinguish the new dispensation, by every figure and mode of expression, that might lead the most dark and ignorant Jew to consider it as internal and spiritual. The righteousness of the new covenant is widely different from what the carnal Israelite apprehended to be the righteousness of the old. With respect to their essence, their foundation, their motives and ends, both covenants are the same, differing only in the external mode of revelation; the old being "the shadow," the new "the image of good things to come;" the old, pointing to CHRIST; the new, revealing him in all his fulness to the faithful. CHRIST JESUS, therefore, is and must be, "the end of the law to those that believe;" that is, he is and must be, in himself, that very Righteousness to which the law pointed, but which it could not attain. "As a school-master," it served to instruct its ignorant, dark, and fallen pupils, in the outward rudiments of Divine Truth; but could never communicate to them the Light, Life, and Spirit of that real Evangelical Righteousness, which is only to be found in the INCARNATE WORD OF GOD. It is for this reason, that the prophet, speaking of the approaching kingdom of the MESSIAH, in whom all the law and the prophets were to center, represents him as "a righteous branch springing forth from the root of David; as a king, reigning, prospering, and executing judgment and justice on the earth;" in consequence of whose mild and equitable administration, "Judah should be saved, and Israel should dwell safely:" and, as the most characteristical designation of his nature and office, tells us, that "This is his NAME, whereby he shall be called, THE LORD OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS." Let us then enquire, in the first place, why our BLESSED REDEEMER has the name of RIGHTEOUSNESS ascribed to him by the prophet; and secondly, what we are to understand by his being called "OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS." I. A name in Scripture is generally put to express the intrinsic nature and qualities of the object named. When, therefore, the name of the MESSIAH is here said to be "Righteousness," we must necessarily conclude, that Righteousness is his very nature, his essence, the substance of all his attributes and perfections. He is not called righteous, but RIGHTEOUSNESS itself; the source and fountain, from whence all that is really and truly righteous, throughout the universe, perpetually proceeds. JESUS CHRIST is "the Brightness of the Father's Glory, and the Express Image of his Person." All the beauties, excellencies, powers, and virtues, which are essentially hidden in the invisible GODHEAD, are substantially, vitally, inwardly, as well as outwardly, opened, revealed, and illustriously displayed, in the person of the INCARNATE JESUS. "All things were made by him, and without him was not any thing made, that was made:" all the "thrones, dominions, principalities and powers," possessed by angels, archangels, cherubim and seraphim, are derived from him; for, "in, and through him, did the Father create all things." The highest degree of Righteousness which the highest Seraph can attain, is but a beam or efflux from this Eternal Sun. With glory undiminished he perpetually imparts spiritual life and vigour to all those countless myriads of intelligences, which inhabit the whole compass of universal nature. He is himself the living law, the eternal rule of order and rectitude. GOD THE FATHER hath "set this his King of Righteousness on his holy hill of Sion." Every outward institute, revealed and written, which GOD hath "at sundry times and in divers manners," delivered to the sons of men, was but a transcript of that original law, which lives for ever in the heart of CHRIST. "I am the way, the truth, and the life;" "no man cometh unto the Father, but by me; ye will not come unto me, that ye may have life; without me, ye can do nothing--" are his own blessed words. Nature, without this CHRIST OF GOD, is impurity, emptiness, poverty, want, and wretchedness extreme: nature illuminated, enriched, refreshed, glorified by him, is holy, righteous, lovely, supremely happy. Known or unknown to our fallen race, it is HE alone, who inspires every good thought, every righteous deed, every sentiment and action that is amiable and endearing. In the acts of the apostles we read of an altar with this inscription, "To the unknown GOD!" St. Paul, taking occasion from this circumstance, tells the Athenians, "Him whom ye ignorantly worship, preach I unto you." In the whole frame of nature, says a truly sublime writer, every heart, every creature, every affection, every action, is an altar with the same kind of inscription, "To the unknown Beauty!--To the unknown Righteousness!--To the unknown Jesus!" This is the eternal standard of truth, order, righteousness and perfection, to which every being in nature ignorantly moveth; this is that which all understandings, all hearts, cannot but admire and adore. But blessed above all beings are those, whose hearts are spiritual altars, with the righteous person of CHRIST engraven upon them by the finger of GOD, flaming with the fire of Heavenly Love, and bearing this radiant inscription, "To the known and experienced Beauty and Righteousness of that JESUS, whom we know; that Word of Life, which our eyes have seen, our ears have heard, our hands have handled, and spiritually embraced!" And this leads me, in the second place, to inquire what we are to understand by CHRIST'S being called "OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS." II. Under my first head, I observed to you from Scripture, that GOD created all things "in and by JESUS CHRIST;" and that "without him, was not any thing made that was made." Man, in particular, was "created in the Image of GOD:" CHRIST is "the Brightness of the Father's Glory, and the Express Image of his Person:" and, therefore, man was created in CHRIST. Man in himself, in his outward nature, was but an empty vessel, till the CHRIST OF GOD became his fulness and perfection. His outward form was from the dust of the earth; but his inward spirit was the breath of the MOST HIGH. The Image of GOD, even CHRIST himself, was his first, his sole Righteousness and perfection; the infallible instructor and enlightener of his understanding, the unerring guide and director of his will. The Name by which the SON of GOD was known to him, was "The Lord his Righteousness." Angels themselves know no other Righteousness, than the Righteousness of GOD in CHRIST. The fall of man, or "Original sin," (as our church article with great truth and propriety expresses it) "is the fault and corruption of the nature of every man, that naturally is engendered of the offspring of Adam; whereby man is very far gone from original righteousness, and is of his own nature inclined to evil." We have already seen what this original righteousness was, which man possessed in a state of innocence, viz. that it was CHRIST, "the Lord his Righteousness," in him. This is what Adam lost--This is what CHRIST alone can restore. Man in his present fallen state, without CHRIST, must be naturally inclined to evil; he has no righteousness of his own. And he can no more be saved by any exertion of his own natural powers, than he can see by the utmost stretch of his organs of sight, without the light of the sun. Here then a serious and inquiring mind may be ready to ask--How is this BLESSED REDEEMER to become my Righteousness? I feel the force of these Scripture truths you have mentioned, and experience in my soul the dreadful consequences of an original apostasy--But I know not, whether CHRIST is my Righteousness, or not. I know not, whether I have the least traces of his Righteous Image in my soul. "Hath CHRIST, then, been so long time with thee, and yet hast thou not known him?" Every little rebuke of conscience; every emotion of kindness, tenderness, and love; every sympathetic feeling of the prosperity or distress of thy neighbour; every sensibility of admiration, esteem, and joy, from contemplating a truly wise and virtuous character; every fervent desire of imitating what is good and excellent in others; every weak aspiration after holiness and perfection; nay, every little feeling of the restless cravings of thine own nature, every little longing after happiness unpossessed; all, all is CHRIST, speaking within thee, and waiting and watching to reveal himself in Righteousness to thy soul. Nothing, therefore, is wanting, on thy part, but a calm and quiet resignation of thyself, and all that is within thee, to his sovereign disposal, to redeem, purify, and restore, to do every thing that is necessary to be done, and which he alone can do, for thy salvation. Thus have I endeavoured to give the plain and obvious meaning of the text. Distinctions upon distinctions have been multiplied; books upon books have been published, to tell us that we are to be justified by the Personal Righteousness of CHRIST outwardly imputed, and sanctified by the inherent graces of the HOLY SPIRIT; that one must necessarily precede the other; and that we must be perfect in CHRIST by Justification, before we can have the least spark of Holiness by Sanctification. This is, indeed, travelling in the broad and popular road; and such kind of preaching might be to the "praise of men." Let systems be written upon systems, and comments upon comments; let preachers oppose preachers, and hearers wander after this or that form of godliness; but may Heaven in mercy preserve us from taking up our rest, or placing our dependence upon any thing less than an intimate and experimental knowledge of "The LORD OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS" revealing himself, with all his holy heavenly tempers, virtues, and dispositions, in our hearts! May we never rest satisfied with a nominal profession of Christianity, a nominal acquaintance with CHRIST, or a nominal remission of sins; for, surely, we are not warranted, by Scripture, to look upon ourselves as redeemed by CHRIST, and born again of him, till by a total purification, a complete deliverance from all the evil tempers and passions of our fallen life, he hath obtained a full and peaceable possession of our whole nature, erected his Throne of Righteousness in our hearts, and by the effectual working of his HOLY SPIRIT brought us to the "measure of the stature of that FULNESS, which is in HIMSELF." DISCOURSE III. The Religion of Jesus, the only Source of Happiness. St. JOHN, CHAP. vi. VER. 66, 67, 68. "FROM THAT TIME, MANY OF HIS DISCIPLES WENT BACK, AND WALKED NO MORE WITH HIM. THEN SAID JESUS UNTO THE TWELVE, WILL YE ALSO GO AWAY? THEN SIMON PETER ANSWERED HIM, LORD! TO WHOM SHALL WE GO? THOU HAST THE WORDS OF ETERNAL LIFE." Happiness is the great end and aim of all those restless pursuits in which mankind are perpetually engaged. The laborious peasant, and the contemplative philosopher; the man that wisheth for wealth, and the man that possesseth it; the gay votary of worldly pleasure, and the gloomy tenant of the solitary cell, are alike industrious in exploring this hidden treasure. Their imaginations are ever upon the stretch after this something yet unknown. Their ideas of happiness indeed, as well as the means which they make use of to attain it, are as different as their prevailing tempers and inclinations. Whatever objects coincide with their present conceptions, those they esteem, and those they pursue, with all the eagerness of newly awakened desire. Deluded, however, by specious appearances, mistaken again and again in their choice of objects, loathing to-day what they pursued yesterday with ardour, chearful and confident in prospect, disappointed and melancholy in possession, they fondly rove from one scene of imaginary bliss to another, unable to rest on any with permanent satisfaction. They never once consider, that no finite objects can fill up the immense void of an immortal soul, no temporal enjoyments satisfy its boundless desires; and that nothing less than "life eternal" can afford an happiness commensurate to its eternal nature. This is not mere theory, or empty speculation. There is not one in this assembly, but could bear witness from experience to the melancholy fact. Was each of us to be asked, in a serious and solemn manner, Are you really happy? very few, I am afraid, if they would speak ingenuously, could answer in the affirmative. And yet, perhaps, most of us have attained, from time to time, what we once deemed the height of our wishes; and what we were then sure, if attained, would make us completely happy. The child wishes for the employments and pleasures of youth; the youth longs to arrive at what he calls the freedom and independence of manhood; the man anxiously schemes and plots, and contrives, and labours and toils, and then wishes to see the success of his schemes, the accomplishment of his labours. His schemes turn out to his satisfaction; the end is obtained; the object is enjoyed: his bliss is consummate, to be sure; he cannot be happier--No such thing--New wants succeed; new schemes are formed; new pursuits, new labours, new anxieties and wishes, tread close upon each other's heels. But where is his happiness all the while? Why he loses sight, at last, of the grand and principal object, in the pursuit of which he had set out: failing of success in this, he foolishly adopts the means for the end; and perpetual care, toil, and vexation, are the wretched effects of his mistaken choice. Thus, for instance, the covetous man grasps, and saves, and fills his coffers--for what? Not to make himself, his family, or his poor neighbours round him, happy with the fruits of his penurious efforts. No--he not only turns a deaf ear to the piercing cries of indigence, but grudges even his family the common necessaries of life, and never parts with a farthing, without uttering some ridiculous complaint of the hardness of the times, and their want of economy. He saves therefore for the sake of saving; his heart is shut up in his chest with his beloved mammon, both alike inaccessible to the mild and soft approaches of kindness and liberality. We cannot but shrink back with horror, from a character so odious and detestable as this. But the observation with which I set out, will hold equally true, when applied to any of those false paths, which men pursue in quest of happiness. Pleasure and ambition will deceive them, as surely as avarice. Enjoyment in every instance may pall, but cannot satisfy the restless desire. Nor will it ever be satisfied, till the soul gets sight of the only true beatifying object in the universe, to which she can rise, and upon which she can rest, with the whole strength and energy of her immortal nature. The light of another world, however, must open and irradiate her spiritual senses, before she can have the least glimpse of this supreme source of bliss. The vanity and deception of all creaturely happiness must in some measure be unfolded to her view, before she can stretch one feeble thought towards Heaven; and she must be intimately convinced of the bondage of her fallen life, and the misery of her condition in this fallen world, before she can feel the force, or discern the spiritual depth of these expressions of St. Peter, "Lord! to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life." There are many people, indeed, who though they are walking on in those very paths of error and delusion which I have just mentioned, would fain have their conduct hallowed by some religious appearances. They begin with deceiving themselves, and then go on to deceive others. But, do what they will, they cannot wholly divest themselves of the feelings of truth and virtue. For they have within them a Spiritual Nature, that is continually striving, under the influences of its native Heaven, to get disengaged from the servitude of its corrupt companion. Call it by what name we please, conscience, the light of nature, common sense, common or preventing grace; or, as the Scripture denominates it, "the Light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world, Christ in us the hope of glory, the Incorruptible Seed of the WORD OF GOD," (for, as Christians, I think we ought to prefer scriptural to philosophical terms;) I say, call it by which ever of these names we like best, certain it is, that every man at times feels this Divine Power stirring within him, and endeavouring to awaken, reprove, inform, illuminate, and govern his life and actions. Now it always happens, that the counsels of this Heavenly Monitor clash with and oppose the dictates of corrupt nature. At this contradiction, the passions are alarmed; they demand immediate gratification, and the trembling mortal dares not at once yield to their solicitations. A strong sensibility of the falsehood of their claim, is felt in his breast. Something must first be done, to stifle or quiet this uneasy sensation. Avarice, he will say to himself, is criminal, it is true; but a well-timed parsimony is virtuous and commendable; and a good and prudent man will think himself in duty bound to provide for the future support of his children. Sensual pleasure, vain mirth, and jovial company, are not quite consistent with the precepts of the Gospel of CHRIST: but a few innocent amusements can do no harm; and it is but in character for a Christian to be chearful. The pursuits of ambition are diametrically opposite to that meekness and humility, which should characterize the disciple of the lowly JESUS: but posts of honour, and exalted stations, may enable a man to be of considerable service to his neighbours, and enlarge his sphere of usefulness. Thus, every evil temper and inclination, wrath, hatred, revenge, envy, jealousy, &c. may cloath themselves in the garb of virtue. Men may first deceive themselves, by endeavouring to reconcile their criminal pursuits with the dictates of conscience; and then employ the same infernal arts, to deceive and impose upon others. It is with such masks as these, that hypocrites, pharisees, and all pretenders to true religion, step forth upon the stage of life, dare to enlist themselves under the standard of virtue, and even sometimes assume the rank and authority of commanders. But when they are summoned to the field of battle; when they are called upon, from within, or from without, to exert themselves against their spiritual adversaries, to assert the rights of Heaven, as well in themselves as in the world around them, to subdue the evil lusts and passions that tyrannize in their own breasts, or to engage with that bitter and malevolent spirit, who opposes the advancement of their Master's kingdom in the life and conduct of others; then it is, that the traitors drop their masks; they meanly desert the banner of the cross, openly disavow their pretensions to religion, and "deny the LORD that bought them." They shrink from the combat, honourable as it would have been for them to engage, and happy as they would have found themselves in the issue; and meanly barter away their salvation for a false peace, short in its continuance, and ending in woe and misery extreme. Like the cowardly disciples mentioned in my text, "they go back, and walk no more with their Master." Doubtless these timid Israelites were alarmed at that heavenly discourse of the BLESSED JESUS, which we read in the preceding part of this chapter. The mysteries of his kingdom there delivered, were too refined for their gross conception. The nature, nourishment, and growth of the Inward and Spiritual Man, which is there indispensably required, militated too powerfully against their favourite passions and prejudices. Their high-blown hopes of future preferment in a temporal kingdom, were, by this spiritual address, entirely dissipated; and they were taught to seek and expect nothing from their Master, but what was opposite to the life, and spirit, and maxims of this world. Alas, how many apostates from the religion of JESUS, have imitated the conduct of these unworthy disciples! Past, as well as present times, afford too many melancholy examples of this kind. A temporizing spirit hath prevailed in almost all ages; and ecclesiastical history abounds with examples of its venomous influence upon the minds of men. The temporal prosperity of the church, hath, in many instances, proved its ruin; and accessions of wealth and power have only served to increase its corruptions. Under the profession of a religion, which breathes nothing but purity, meekness, and benevolence, men have been actuated by all the diabolical passions that ever inflamed the breasts of the most ignorant and unenlightened Pagans. Wherever the external profession of Christianity hath been attended with any outward emoluments, its disciples have increased, and an outward shew of zeal for its advancement, hath not been wanting. This outward shew gives them but little trouble; and the hypocrite's garb, though cumbersome at first, is not only made light and convenient by custom, but even desirable for the profits and advantages it brings. Whilst the BLESSED JESUS is distributing his bounty, and loaves and fishes multiply under his creating hand, he will never be without crouds of followers to partake of his royal munificence. Whilst he is riding in triumph through the streets of Jerusalem, nothing is heard from every quarter, but "Hosannahs to the Son of David;" every one is ambitious of joining his train, and of being in the number of his adherents. But when the powers of this world confederate against him; when Herod and Pontius Pilate, and the whole nation of the Jews, rise up in arms, seize upon the innocent victim, and drag him to condemnation, torture and death; then, indeed, his false friends appear in their proper colours; and, O melancholy truth! even his disciples "go back, and walk no more with him;" some of them deny him, and all fly and forsake him. Let us not deceive ourselves, my brethren. It is not an outward profession of Christianity, or an outward zeal against its adversaries, that will stand us in any stead: all this may well enough consist with inward impurity, a worldly spirit, and an heart devoted to the service of sin. The great trial of our faith, the sure proof of the sincerity of our conversion, must be sought for in deeper exercises than these. When storms arise, when dangers threaten, when inward and outward enemies attack our peace; when we cannot maintain our discipleship without the sacrifice of some darling passion of almost irresistible power; when we can walk no longer with our Master, without the loss of some considerable temporal advantages; when we are summoned by him to fly from the soft allurements of pleasure, to burst the bonds of avarice or ambition, to disclaim all dependence upon the world, ourselves, or any created being; in a word, "to forsake all, take up our cross, and follow him;" then, indeed, is our hour of trial! then the sincerity of our attachment to CHRIST, will be made manifest to ourselves, and to the world; and we shall learn to know assuredly, whether we are, or are not, of the number of those disciples, "who go back, and walk no more with him." Therefore, O Christian, thy Beloved is then only thine, and thou art then only his, when thou canst abide with him in the darkness of the vale, as well as in the splendors of the mount; when thou canst walk with him in the wilderness, as well as on the plain; and when "neither tribulation, nor distress, nor trial, nor persecution, can separate thee from the LOVE OF GOD, which is in CHRIST JESUS our Lord." DISCOURSE IV. The Religion of Jesus, the only Source of Happiness. St. JOHN, CHAP. vi. VER. 66, 67, 68. "FROM THAT TIME MANY OF DISCIPLES WENT BACK, AND WALKED NO MORE WITH HIM. THEN SAID JESUS UNTO THE TWELVE, WILL YE ALSO GO AWAY? THEN SIMON PETER ANSWERED HIM, LORD! TO WHOM SHALL WE GO? THOU HAST THE WORDS OF ETERNAL LIFE." The motives which induced many of our Lord's first followers to withdraw themselves from his person, and wholly relinquish the connection they had formed with him and his disciples, I have explained in the preceding discourse. The erroneous conduct of mankind in general, their mistaken notions of happiness, the false and dangerous paths in which they pursue it, their delusive hopes and real disappointments; the palliative arts they make use of to reconcile their duty with their passions, and the various methods by which they deceive themselves as well as others; their hypocritical pretensions to religion, and the ways in which their deceptions are discovered, and their pharisaical professions unveiled; in a word, the genuine sources of that error and apostasy, into which the unworthy disciples mentioned in the text, as well as others who have since imitated their example, have sadly degenerated; all these particulars were suggested to my mind, from the consideration of these words of the Evangelist, "From that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him." The tender and pathetic expostulation which this ungenerous conduct produced from the blessed lips of the common Friend and Saviour of Man, breathes such a spirit of love, kindness, and compassion, towards the souls of those whom he came to redeem, as cannot but claim our most serious and grateful attention. The deep concern he must have felt for such an instance of apostasy, added to his apprehensions of the fatal influence it might have upon his beloved Apostles, awakened in him all those innocent and delicate sensibilities, which, even in his human nature, were the genuine offspring of that ETERNAL LOVE to which he was essentially united. Friendship, true friendship, is the HEAVEN-BORN OFFSPRING of Divine Charity. Heaven is her native country. In that pure and gentle element she lives and moves without constraint, free, chearful, delighting and delighted. If ever she deigns to associate with the sons of men, it is among the truly virtuous alone she can be found. She visits none but those, whose "conversation is in heaven," who have within them a birth congenial with her own, whose hearts and affections are governed by the Spirit of Love, and can only be wooed and won by correspondent tempers and characters. Her sacred name, indeed, is often prostituted to venal, base, and corrupt purposes. Her fair and beauteous garb is often worn by the votaries of avarice, pleasure, and ambition. Her sweet aspect, her mild and winning graces, her obliging and disinterested disposition, yea, even her peculiar warmth of affection, and glowing sensibility of heart, are all profanely counterfeited by the selfish and sensual, the vain and the aspiring. Take it for granted, however, that man, whether gay, dissolute, covetous, or ambitious, is incapable of real friendship: all his designs and prospects center in himself, and every seeming act of kindness, every splendid appearance of courtesy and generosity, is calculated to promote some selfish purpose, to procure some temporal emolument. Far different is the friendship of those who are "born of God;" who, from a vital union with the Source of Love, derive such pure and unadulterated streams of Charity into their breasts, as manifest themselves in a life of general beneficence towards all men, and a warm, affectionate, spiritual attachment towards "those especially, who are of the houshold of faith." Such, but in the purest highest degree, were those heavenly feelings of true friendship, with which the heart of JESUS glowed, when he uttered this sweet and endearing expostulation, "Will ye also go away?" The words are few, but the sentiments are manifold, gracious, and animating; and they cannot but appear so to those, who attend, with nice discernment, to the common feelings of human nature. It is to these common feelings that our Lord makes his appeal, in all his heavenly discourses. Though, from the general corruption, it is a case that has but seldom occurred in the page of history, yet let us suppose a good and virtuous man, associated with a set of good and virtuous companions, bound to him by the strong and endearing ties of private friendship, in the defence of some good and virtuous cause. Novelty, the love of fame, a desire of appearing to the world in some conspicuous point of view, the prospect of some great temporal advantages, and a variety of other motives of a selfish nature, might suddenly prompt a considerable number of persons to join these champions of virtue, and follow them in the glorious enterprize. Enemies appear, dangers threaten; yea, death, perhaps, in all its horrors, presents itself to their view. Personal security is to be preferred before the general interest of virtue; and where virtue cannot be supported without personal losses, her cause must be abandoned. Upon these principles, the weak and timid multitude forsake their gallant leader. Attached to him by no bonds, but those of interest or ambition, when these fail, they think themselves at liberty to abandon his person and his cause. The noble chieftain, not so much affected with the prospect of danger to himself and his cause, as with a real concern for the baseness of his followers, and an apprehension, that their flight might perhaps intimidate those, whom he knew to be attached, from principle, to virtue and himself; the noble chieftain, I say, might with great propriety, and without the least tincture of fear or despondency, but rather as a trial of their fidelity, and a most powerful incentive to new and more vigorous efforts, address himself in such words to the chosen few, as those, which the great Captain of our Salvation delivered upon this occasion: "Will ye, also go away?" In this address, there is not implied the least unkind suspicion of their integrity. It is no more than an affectionate appeal to the warm and tender sensations of true and genuine friendship. O, my beloved Apostles! ye see the weakness, timidity, and worldly-mindedness, of those pretended friends, who have hitherto associated with us. So violent hath been their attachment to earthly pursuits, that they would not suffer truths of the highest importance to interfere with them for a moment. My last spiritual address was too deep and powerful a stroke at their corruptions. Could they have continued in fellowship with us upon their own terms, and made their connexion subservient to their own views of temporal interest, they would not have so suddenly forsaken us. But shall their conduct have the least influence upon yours? Will ye be intimidated by their flight? Will ye suffer your fidelity and perseverance to be shaken by their evil example? Will ye unkindly abandon a Master, into whose service ye entered upon the most disinterested principles, and who knows and feels you to be attached to him by the heavenly ties of religion and love? After having seen so many indubitable testimonies of that almighty power wherewith he is invested, will ye doubt his ability to protect and deliver you? After so many kind and instructive conversations, in the course of which he hath gradually, and as he found you "could bear them," opened to you the great truths of his spiritual kingdom; will ye be such enemies to yourselves, and your real happiness, as to forsake your best of friends, your kindest and most powerful protector? "Will ye also go away?" These sentiments, and more than these, are expressed in this pathetic expostulation: and for our comfort, my brethren, may we ever recollect, that, though ascended into the highest heavens, and seated at the right hand of his Father, he continues the same loving conduct towards all his faithful friends and followers, that he observed towards his disciples whilst he was upon earth. The same gentle and affectionate modes of speech, the same tender, but awakening expostulations, to which his Apostles were accustomed, he still applies to the heart of every believer. If we look back to past experience, we shall be convinced, that this very expostulation of our compassionate Master, hath frequently sounded in our ears. When the infectious influence of evil example, the sudden attack of some powerful temptation, some severe stroke of adversity, or some smiling prospect of temporal felicity; when these, or any of these, have secretly solicited our frail nature, to relinquish our religious pursuits, to surrender ourselves to the dominion of sin, and renounce the favour and protection of our Master; hath he not frequently, and with ineffable tenderness, whispered this gentle reprehension to our hearts, "Will ye also go away?" Happy, indeed, if, with Peter's affectionate warmth, and honest faithful adherence to our Lord, amidst the severest trials, we have been enabled to reply, from a full conviction of our own weakness, and of his all-sufficiency, "Lord! to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of Eternal Life." Peter generally spoke in the name of all his brethren. His answer here, therefore, is to be considered as a solemn declaration on the part of the Apostles, of their firm trust and confidence in their Master, founded on the full evidence they had received of his Divinity. As if he had said: Think not, dearest Master, that thy faithful disciples are actuated by such unworthy motives as have prompted some of their weak and carnal brethren to forsake thee. No--we are intimately convinced of the folly of depending upon any creaturely strength, or seeking for happiness in any sublunary prospect. Thou hast opened upon our wondering souls such scenes of heavenly bliss, thou hast manifested to our outward senses such astonishing displays of thy absolute power over all temporal nature, thou hast revived our hearts with such sweet draughts of those rivers of pleasure that surround thy Father's throne, thou hast enlightened our understandings with such piercing beams of truth, thou hast placed such endearing objects before our will and affections, and hast so enamoured our souls with the beauty and excellency of thy Gospel; that we are perfectly satisfied to remain with thee for ever, implicitly to follow thy blessed footsteps, to accompany thee through all the difficulties and dangers of life, and even to meet death undaunted at thy side. Indeed, "to whom shall we go?" Every creature around us, bears the stamp of its own imperfection. Whatever they possess of beauty or of bliss, it is all from thee, thou Lord of life, and source of all perfection! They are in themselves, as poor and indigent as we are. If we make the experiment, and go to them in quest of happiness, our fond hopes are suddenly overthrown, and vexation succeeds to disappointment. The life we are now in, is fallen, temporal, and transient. The words of this life are as vain as the life itself: for it can only speak what it knows and feels, and the sum and substance of this is want and woe. But as thou hast in thyself the very source of eternal life, by virtue of thy eternal union with the Father; as the powers, sensibilities, virtues, and perfections of this life, are completely opened in thee; as the "fulness of the GODHEAD dwells bodily" in thee, so thy words must be the "words of eternal life:" for thou "speakest that thou dost know, and testifiest that thou hast seen." Thy outward words are, indeed, but the outward signs of this life eternal; the real participation of it can be nothing less than an inward and vital union of our wills with thine, effectually co-operating, and gradually "transforming us into thine own image, from glory to glory." Such was the import of the Apostle's reply; and such must be the real heart-felt language of every sinner, that expects peace and pardon at the hands of the Almighty. Pardon of sin, is not, as some vainly imagine, like the cancelling of a bond, the remitting of a debt, or the forgiveness of an injury betwixt man and man. No--It is a "dying unto sin, and a rising again unto righteousness." It is life eternal opening itself in the fallen soul, and extinguishing the life of sin, or at least keeping it in due subjection, till the dissolution of the body puts an end to its connection with this fallen world; it is, according to the Apostle's language, "the law of the spirit of life making us free from the law of sin and death." That eternal life, which we have, and can have only from JESUS CHRIST, the second Adam, can alone pardon, remit, atone, cover, extinguish, (for all these are words of the same spiritual import) that earthly life, which we have received from the first Adam. The very first motion of this eternal life within us, is a conviction of the vanity, sin, and folly of our earthly life. "They that are whole need not a physician, but they that are sick." A sensibility of want and weakness must necessarily precede a desire of relief: and the soul must be "weary and heavy laden," oppressed beneath the burden of her fallen nature, and convinced of its inability to yield her a moment's real peace, before she will think of making this solemn inquiry, "what shall I do to be saved? to whom shall I go?" Yea, even after she is come thus far, many a weary step must be taken, many doubts and difficulties must be encountered, before she will be able, from her own experience, to adopt this declaration of the Apostle, "Thou hast the words of eternal life." Those doubts and difficulties, with which men are frequently embarrassed in their spiritual researches, do in a great measure proceed from that general deviation from the primitive simplicity of Gospel Truth and Gospel Language, which so sadly prevails among the various denominations of Christians; in consequence of which, a multitude of useless and unscriptural distinctions have been introduced into catechisms, systems of divinity, and even books of practical devotion, which serve only to perplex and confound the mind of anxious and well-disposed inquirers. "To whom shall I go?" cries the poor penitent sinner, whom CHRIST, by the Power of his Grace, hath brought to a sensibility of his fallen life. Why, go to the priest, says one; confess, and get absolution, and you will come away as innocent as a new-born babe. Go, and study the Augsburg confession, says another, and you will soon have every doubt and difficulty removed. Go, says a third, and read Calvin's system with great attention, and you will soon find your soul at rest. Some advise him to join himself to one sect of Christians, and some to another; each maintaining, in his turn, that the life and power of religion is only to be found among those of his own particular society. The poor misguided seeker eagerly catches at every thing that looks like spiritual advice; runs from one book to another, from one church and conventicle to another, "seeking rest, but finding none," or at most, a temporary peace, a partial truce from extreme distress; whereas after all, a few plain words of Scripture, properly applied and attended to, will go further towards setting him right in his researches, than all the popes and priests, and Luthers, and Calvins, and sects and denominations, in the world. What then hath a minister of CHRIST, or indeed any private Christian, to say or do, when a true penitent under such circumstances applies to him for advice, and asks him with the utmost anxiety, "To whom shall I go?" What can he do, what can he say, that will have a more immediate tendency to fix his attention, and compose his distracted mind, than to answer him in the words of the text? "To whom shouldst thou go, but to JESUS CHRIST? it is he alone who hath the words of Eternal Life." I know no other end of preaching but this; and I am sure, that we are warranted by Scripture to declare to every such humbled, penitent, and afflicted sinner, that if he thus seeks CHRIST, he shall not seek in vain. By faithfully directing his will and affections towards his REDEEMER, thus inwardly unfolding his graces and virtues in his heart, he will become more and more acquainted, and more and more comforted, with that "Life Eternal, which is the gift of GOD in CHRIST JESUS." DISCOURSE V. True Religion, a costly and continual Sacrifice. 2 SAMUEL, CHAP. xxiv, VERSE 24. "AND THE KING SAID UNTO ARAUNAH, NAY, BUT I WILL SURELY BUY IT OF THEE AT A PRICE; NEITHER WILL I OFFER BURNT-OFFERINGS UNTO THE LORD MY GOD, OF THAT WHICH DOTH COST ME NOTHING." The preceding part of this chapter presents us with an awful and instructive example of the fatal consequences which result from an unbelief or distrust of the providential power and goodness of GOD. Contrary to the express command of the Almighty, contrary to the spirit of that dispensation, which inculcated an absolute and implicit reliance upon Heaven in all dangers and difficulties, yea, contrary to an happy experience of the most signal interpositions of Omnipotence; David had rashly issued a commission to the general and officers of his host, to go through all the tribes of Israel, and take a particular and exact account of the numbers of his people. Such a flagrant instance of unfaithfulness to his GOD, after so many merciful deliverances received, drew upon him a most severe chastisement. To humble the haughtiness of his spirit, and convince him of the folly of depending upon the arm of flesh, instead of taking the most HIGH GOD for his shield and defence, a messenger of vengeance was immediately sent forth. From Dan even to Beersheba, he marked his progress with carnage and desolation: seventy thousand men, within the space of a few hours, fell a sacrifice to the devouring pestilence. He soon reached the beloved city, and was preparing to pour his phial of wrath upon the mount of GOD. The eyes of the unhappy monarch were now opened: he saw the destroying angel, humbled himself in the dust, acknowledged his guilt, and deprecated the further progress of the contagion. "Lo, I have sinned, and I have done wickedly: but these sheep, what have they done?" Omnipotence arrested the Angel in his progress: "It is enough--stay now thine hand." And David was directed by the prophet Gad, to rear an altar unto the LORD, on the very spot where the pestilence had ceased. This spot was the threshing-floor of Araunah the Jebusite. Deeply sensible of the greatness of his deliverance, the king immediately proceeded to execute the divine command. Araunah discovered him at a distance; and with all the submission of a conquered and tributary prince, hastened to meet him, and "bowed himself before the king on his face to the ground." "And Araunah said, Wherefore is my lord the king come unto his servant?" And David said, "To buy the threshing-floor of thee, to build an altar unto the LORD, that the plague may be stayed from the people." Araunah, as a king, with a princely generosity of spirit, immediately offered him, not only the threshing-floor, but also his oxen for the sacrifice, and his threshing instruments for wood. "And the king said unto Araunah, Nay, but I will surely buy it of thee at a price; neither will I offer burnt-offerings unto the LORD my GOD, of that which doth cost me nothing." The plain and obvious meaning of which is undoubtedly this: Hath GOD favoured me with such an astonishing deliverance? Hath he manifested his goodness and loving-kindness in withdrawing his chastising hand, pardoning my guilt, and sparing me and my people from utter destruction? Surely, then, I will not grudge, the trifling expence of erecting, upon this spot, a monument of his love. Surely I will not accept of the labours of another, or testify my gratitude by burnt-offerings and sacrifices at another's expence. The least I can do is, to make such an acknowledgment, and in such a manner, as will best evidence my sense of the obligation, and the honour that is due to my Almighty Deliverer. Those who look beyond the letter and the outward history, will readily discern the state of David's mind. They will readily discern this outward action of his, though adapted to the outward dispensation under which he lived, to be highly expressive of that great and fundamental principle, which every dispensation of Truth, from the fall of man down to this very day, hath strongly inculcated, viz. that true religion is an inward life, that cannot rest in external appearances, but manifests itself in an absolute unlimited surrender of the whole man to his Creator. This can never be accomplished without considerable cost and expence on the part of the creature, inasmuch as his will and affections must first be drawn off from all that variety of imaginations, desires and enjoyments, to which his fallen nature strongly allures, and deeply enslaves him. Hence it is, that our BLESSED LORD makes the very first duty of discipleship to consist in "denying ourselves, taking up our cross, and following him:" that is to say, in bearing, with meekness, the necessary evils of our fallen life, resisting and overcoming its sinful suggestions, and humbly waiting for and co-operating with his Spirit revealed in our hearts. This is the spiritual warfare, the struggle betwixt the "law in the members," and the "law of the mind;" the fighting "not only against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers," in which we are all summoned to engage. The whole burnt-offering and sacrifice, the whole price which this must cost us, is nothing less than the turning our wills, with the whole tide of our affections, from the evil to the good principle within us. And that GOD through CHRIST hath given us ability to do this, will appear from the following considerations: The will of man, as coming forth from the Eternal Will of GOD, must be eternally and essentially free. The will of the fallen angels in hell, was as free as that of the highest archangel now in heaven: Freely they stood, who stood; and fell, who fell. The whole difference betwixt them consists in this, that the will of those who fell, is freely turned to evil; the will of those who stood, is freely turned to GOD and Goodness. Man stands in an intermediate state, betwixt light and darkness, betwixt life and death, betwixt heaven and hell. The whole tenor of Scripture, from beginning to end, represents him in this critical situation; represents his Heavenly Father, as calling to him and inviting him to "eschew evil, and to do good;" to "love light rather than darkness;" to "come to him, that he may have life." All which certainly implies, that GOD, by his Grace, hath given him a power of choosing, and has made his salvation or destruction to proceed from himself, and not from any predetermining divine decree. JESUS CHRIST is always spoken of, as a freely given Saviour; but salvation, as "a treasure to be purchased, as a race to be run, as a battle to be fought, as a work to be accomplished, even with fear and trembling." The power or capacity of being saved, the whole merit of salvation, comes from CHRIST; the using of this power, the availing ourselves of this merit, from ourselves. "Why WILL YE die, O house of Israel? TURN YOURSELVES, and live ye. Ye WILL NOT come to me, that ye might have life. How often would I have gathered you, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye WOULD NOT!" Upon this principle of forsaking sin, and turning our will to Goodness, are founded all those Gospel precepts, which speak of "crucifying the flesh with its affections and lusts, destroying the old man, dying to sin, suffering with CHRIST, cutting off a right hand, plucking out a right eye, passing through much tribulation;" all which plainly shews, that True Religion is a perpetual sacrifice; and that this sacrifice cannot be "offered to the LORD our GOD, of that which doth cost us nothing;" that the price will be far more, than "fifty shekels of silver," the purchase of Araunah's threshing-floor and implements; yea, that it will be no less than the "whole body of sin," which we carry about us, with all its affections and lusts; which we must, with meekness and humility, surrender to our BLESSED REDEEMER, to be burnt up and consumed upon the fire of his altar. Having thus endeavoured to establish this fundamental principle, that "true religion is a costly and a perpetual sacrifice;" let us now, to prevent any dangerous deception, turn our eyes to those false appearances of it, which we frequently meet with in the world, which are very easily assumed, and which cost nothing. The man of moral honesty first steps forth, and puts in his claim to the character of religious. He looks upon any Revelation from Heaven to be quite unnecessary; and, with all the forwardness and presumption of his own blind reason, pronounces those books, which Christians believe to be of Divine Authority, to be idle and chimerical. His religion, he will tell you, is, "to do as he would be done by." Poor man! it were well, if he even practised this golden rule; it might lead him to something further: for, by endeavouring to fulfil this, he might be brought to a view and feeling of his own natural inability; of the evil tempers and passions of his soul, which, in innumerable instances, hurry him on to do to others, what he would, by no means, have them to do to him. His religion, therefore, is properly visionary. Every thing to him is just and right, that comes within those bounds of honesty, which have been fixed by the laws of the land. A right life is not, with him, a right principle in the heart; but only a set of outward actions, that in the eyes of the world give him the character of an honest man. The religion of such a person "costs him nothing." He has nothing to sacrifice, but much to gain by the practice of it; at least, much of worldly happiness; for he can have no idea of any other. Being wholly destitute of all sensibility with respect to the evil of his fallen life, he is not in the least desirous of purchasing a better, at the price it will cost. Before he can form any conception of the necessity of religion, as a real inward change and renewal of heart, he must first be made sensible of his present error and misery: "for they that are whole need not a physician, but they that are sick." Next comes the nominal Christian, who hath been baptized, and professes to believe the great truths of the Gospel, and joins with some publick assembly of Christians in outward worship. Surely his claim to the religious character, hath a better foundation than the preceding one: he purchases it at an higher price; it costs him more to support it. He neglects no outward duty, either moral or instituted; you never miss him at church, or at the sacrament: he hath been strictly educated from his infancy; he is sober, virtuous, kind, and charitable. In a word, he appears to be, what it were to be wished every man in the world really was. Thus far he is undoubtedly right: a strict observance of all the outward duties of religion, a minute attention to things in themselves indifferent, and a prudent abstaining from every appearance of evil, are doubtless incumbent, even upon those who have made the greatest progress in the Divine Life. Let us, however, remember, that this outward strictness will avail little, without a conformity of our inward man to the temper and disposition of CHRIST; without being "born again," and commencing a new life, even a life of Heaven upon earth. The nominal Christian is a stranger to this blessed process. Talk to him of the necessity of regeneration, of doing all that he does from a principle of Divine Love, and with a view to God's glory, and not to any self-satisfaction, and he will not understand you. His round of duties seems to be the God whom he worships; at least, he makes them the _opus operatum_. He is never tormented with spiritual doubts and temptations; he knows nothing of the severe conflicts which real Christians sustain, and the dreadful pangs they must suffer, before their purification is accomplished; before they can "bow their heads," with the great Captain of their Salvation, and say with him, "It is finished." He is willing to go to Heaven by an easier and less thorny path, and to purchase glory at a cheaper rate. The last I shall mention, but the most specious appearances of religion, are those which are exhibited by the pharisaical professors of Christianity. And here I would willingly throw a veil over those follies and extravagancies, to which false enthusiasm frequently gives the name of spiritual exercises and experiences. But my duty calls upon me to put you on your guard against these delusive appearances; as I cannot but think, that spiritual pride, or an over-weening conceit and forward exhibition of our own fancied spiritual attainments, is the most fatal rock, upon which the Christian can make "shipwreck of his faith." In an age, wherein every appearance of religion ought to be encouraged and promoted, it is melancholy to think, that we should be under a necessity of speaking even against some appearances. But that you may form a right notion of what I mean by a pharisaical profession of religion, I will endeavour to draw the character of a modern Pharisee. In the first place, he is one, who talks much in a religious strain, but takes care to make himself the chief subject of conversation. His own illuminations and experiences, his conviction and conversion, with all the particular circumstances attending them, he never fails to communicate, without distinction, to all those who will give him an hearing; and to communicate in such a manner, as to let them know, that he considers his own experiences as the infallible standard by which he measures the experiences of others. In the next place, you will generally find him insisting upon points of controversy, rather than those of practice; urging your assent to such and such articles of his faith, calling upon you to apply for instruction to some favourite Rabbi of his own sect, or some favourite system which himself has adopted, instead of sending you immediately to him, who is the Fountain of all Wisdom, and "who giveth it liberally" to those that ask it of him. You will find him careful to "pay tithes of mint, and annise, and cummin;" to go to what he calls a gospel-sermon, though he should neglect the necessary duties of his occupation; and to spend hours in talking about religion, whilst he passes by "the weightier matters of the law, judgment, and mercy, and faith." Tell him of the necessity "of dying daily to sin, of suffering with CHRIST, of mortifying the flesh, denying himself, cutting off a right hand, &c." he will answer you, that his peace is made, that his sins are pardoned, that he has a full assurance of everlasting life. Tell him of the necessity of being "born again," of having the righteous nature, temper, and disposition of the HOLY JESUS in his heart; he will reply, that he knows of no righteousness but that of CHRIST imputed, and that his Saviour's personal obedience is accepted by GOD instead of his own; and though he may not go so far as to deny the great doctrine of sanctification, but will even allow and insist upon it, yet it is such sanctification, as will turn to very little account. For, who that looks upon his work as already done, will chuse to labour any longer? Who that believes his sins to be already pardoned, will think it necessary to implore the forgiveness of God, or to obtain the healing influences of the Spirit of Grace? In a word, if we may judge from his conversation, he thinks himself perfect--if we may judge from his actions, he is indeed very far from it. He shews the utmost bitterness against every one that happens to dissent from his opinion; and looks upon all those as carnal and unregenerate, who do not walk in his footsteps. Meekness, humility, benevolence and charity, the most characteristical graces of the true disciples of JESUS, are not to be found in any part of his conduct. His life, therefore, is not in CHRIST, but in a set of doctrines and opinions, supported by a "zeal that is not according to knowledge." Till he is taught to see his own pride and presumption; till he discovers, and strives to eradicate, the selfish principle that lurks at the centre of his heart; he cannot be said to offer any other sacrifices to GOD, than such as "cost him nothing." To conclude: Having seen what those real sacrifices of religion are, which will be acceptable to GOD, and in how many instances men deceive themselves, and others, by false appearances; let us determine to judge of our acquaintance with and progress in True Religion, not merely by outward observances, nor yet by any transient fits or lively and pleasant frames of devotion; but rather by the discovery which GOD is pleased to make to us of our weakness and misery, by our sincere desire of being united to CHRIST, and in heart and spirit assimilated to his nature. Thus having followed a Suffering Master, "travelling in the greatness of his strength," through the ensanguined paths of a spiritual warfare, we shall at length "come forth out of great tribulation;" and, having "washed our robes in the Blood of the Lamb," shall be partakers of his triumphs; and receive the accomplishment of his great and glorious promise: "To him that overcometh, will I grant to sit with me in my throne; even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne." DISCOURSE VI. Truth, the only Friend of Man. GALATIANS, CHAP. iv. VER. 16. "AM I THEREFORE BECOME YOUR ENEMY, BECAUSE I TELL YOU THE TRUTH?" Men are generally too apt to consider religion as unfriendly to their happiness, and incapable of yielding them any satisfactions, equal to those which they derive from the pursuit of worldly objects. Hence, the aversion to exercises of piety, and the society and conversation of the good and virtuous. Hence, the listlessness and unconcern about the state of their souls, whilst the whole attention of their minds, their thoughts, their desires and affections, their hands and their hearts, are all busily and constantly employed, in making provision for the support, ornament, and gratification, of a perishing body. Surely, such a strange conduct as this, must proceed from a secret persuasion, that religion will interrupt their pursuit of some present favourite objects, and damp and deaden all the sprightliness of enjoyment. Were they, indeed, charged with holding such principles as these, they would doubtless take it exceedingly amiss; and look upon that man as their enemy, who should presume thus to arraign their conduct, and ascribe it to motives, which they would blush to own. The tender and affectionate expostulation in my text, is evidently founded upon an intimate knowledge of human nature. The sagacious Apostle readily discovered the secret workings of pride and disgust, in the hearts of his Galatian converts. After having expressed his astonishment, that "they were so soon removed from him, that called them into the Grace of CHRIST, unto another Gospel;" after having charged them with folly, for suffering themselves to be "bewitched," as he expresses it, by the artifices of deceivers; after having declared his fears and apprehensions lest he should have bestowed upon them labour in vain; and, after having enumerated some former testimonies of their reciprocal regard and affection for each other; he, at length, addresses himself to their consciences, and solemnly calls upon them to declare, whether they could, with the least justice or propriety, change their former sentiments of him, or deem him unfriendly to their best interests, "because he told them the Truth;" because, by his Christian and apostolical reprehensions, he sought to rescue them from the dominion of passion and prejudice: "Am I therefore become your enemy, because I tell you the Truth?" One would think, that such well-meant remonstrances, from the ministers of Truth and friends of Virtue, would be kindly received, and have a salutary influence upon the hearts of sinners; but experience, alas! tells us the contrary. There have been many instances, and some, perhaps, within our own personal knowledge, in which resentment, rather than gratitude, hath been awakened by such expostulations; and where, instead of humbling the spirit, they have produced a reply that bore the marks of passion, checked and disappointed in its favourite pursuits. Considered with respect to the real state of his soul, every man, who lives under the dominion of any evil passion, or suffers himself to be drawn aside from the paths of virtue by the delusive arts of vice, is doubtless in a situation similar to that of these Galatians. For though his passions and prejudices may not be exactly the same, yet they proceed from the same source, and enmity to GOD and Goodness is at the bottom. But, blessed be GOD! there are no Galatians without an Apostle; no sinner without an higher messenger of GOD than St. Paul; a greater witness, and more awful reprover of his evil ways; a friend that speaks to him at all times and seasons, in the hurry of the day, and the silence of the night, amidst the anxiety of expectation, and the ardour of possession; vigorously remonstrating against every sinful suggestion, and sharply censuring and reproving the mind for every sinful act. The fallen spirit of man, it is true, brooks not the frequent appearance of this Heavenly Messenger; but, as the Apostle says of the Galatians, treats him as an enemy, and replies to all his friendly remonstrances and affectionate warnings, with indignation and disdain. "Go thy way for this time," was the language of voluptuous greatness to the same blessed Apostle. "Go thy way for this time," is still the language of every unconverted heart, when it is checked or interrupted in its vicious and lawless pursuits, by the voice of this Inward Monitor--why art thou perpetually intruding upon my hours of business, pleasure, or repose, and teizing and disquieting me with thine ill-timed admonitions or rebukes? Who amongst us, let me ask, hath not, in innumerable instances, given such a rash and impatient answer to the Servant of GOD within us? When some darling passion hath importunately solicited for immediate indulgence; some pretty fantastical object presented itself to our desires; some impetuous call of pride, envy, covetuousness, or resentment, demanded an immediate answer; have we not, though we were, at the very instant, warned against the artifice and delusion, by this constant and inseparable Friend, have we not petulantly rejected his counsel, bid him "away for that time" at least, and treated him with more contempt than we would dare to shew to an earthly enemy? His meekness, however, is not discomposed by our rising wrath; his fortitude is not daunted by our repeated insults; his persevering love is not in the least abated by the stubbornness and obduracy of our hearts. He still keeps close to our side, accompanies us whithersoever we go, and, "whether we will hear, or whether we will forbear," ceases not, at one time, to whisper to us in the soft language of heavenly instruction; and, at another, to thunder in our ears the most alarming reproofs and menaces. But who is this Apostle, this Messenger of GOD, this Inward Witness and Monitor, whom deluded mortals are so apt to consider as an enemy to their peace?--Hear, O sinner, and let thy face be covered with confusion! let thine hard heart break with deep compunction for its past obduracy, whilst thou art told, that this enemy, as thou hast hitherto deemed and treated him, is no other than the ETERNAL SPIRIT OF THY GOD AND THY REDEEMER, who, by continually opposing the language of truth to the suggestions of error, hath been endeavouring to emancipate thy soul from its grievous bondage, and to bring it forth into light and liberty. Thou hast mistaken death for life, misery for happiness, time for eternity! Thy will and affections have been fixed upon objects of unreal bliss; turned from thy GOD, the true and only source of Goodness and Happiness, and working evil in the element of sin and darkness! Spirits thus employed, must mingle with congenial spirits: there is "no communion of CHRIST with Belial;" no fellowship or likeness betwixt thy spirit in such a state as this, and the Spirit of thy REDEEMER. He appears, and cannot but appear to thee, as thine enemy, because the truth he tells thee militates against thy darling lusts, and shews thee those dark destructive purposes, which, because thou canst hide them from others, thou wishest also to hide from thyself. But this seeming enemy is, indeed, thy real friend. He is only pursuing thee with his internal counsels and reproofs, that he may snatch thee out of the hands of the destroyer; that he may call thee out of thy present "darkness, into his own marvellous light." When thou hast experienced this blessed change, reconciliation will soon take place; an union of spirits will commence betwixt thy SAVIOUR and thee; and thou wilt gradually grow into his Image and Likeness, till thou art made perfect in his Love. Believe me, my brethren, till this great change hath passed upon our souls, till we begin to feel, and admire, and love the communications of this Inward Friend and Comforter, we must be strangers to true peace of mind, and totally ignorant of the proper enjoyment of ourselves, and the proper use of the world in which we now sojourn. In our natural state, all is darkness, disorder, and disquietude. We see every thing through a false medium. We are under a spiritual delirium. Our heavenly physician is endeavouring, by the methods I have just mentioned, to restore our health of mind, to open our spiritual senses, to give us a clear and distinct view of "the things that belong to our peace." We must, therefore, co-operate with his "labours of love." Even the severity of his applications proves him to be our friend; for he knows that, without them, we can never come to a "right mind." Let us, then, recollect, how often these applications have been made; how often, through inattention and neglect, they have failed of success; how often we have slighted his counsels, despised his prescriptions, and cast his medicines from us. But let us also remember, that there is a time at hand, when, light as we may think of such a blessing now, we shall most ardently long for his support and consolation. When languishing with sickness, and oppressed with pain, it is he alone who can soften our pillow, and supply us with inward strength; when tottering with age, and bowed down with infirmities, it is he alone who can be our rod and staff; and when the lamp of life is so near expiring, that we can scarcely see our passage to the verge of time, it is he alone that can light up the Lamp of GOD in our hearts, and conduct us through the dark valley of the shadow of death, to the bright confines of a celestial world. In a word, if the enmity is not destroyed in our souls in this life, we must necessarily carry it with us into the next. And to those who die under the dominion of a fallen life and sinful nature, "our God must be a consuming fire." Let us lay these things seriously to heart. Let us earnestly seek Reconciliation with GOD THROUGH CHRIST, and endeavour to perfect ourselves in the great work of Peace and Love, "whilst it is day; because the night cometh, when no man can work." DISCOURSE VII. The Strength and Victory of Faith. 1 JOHN, CHAP. v. VER. 4. "WHATSOEVER IS BORN OF GOD, OVERCOMETH THE WORLD; AND THIS IS THE VICTORY THAT OVERCOMETH THE WORLD, EVEN OUR FAITH." All the doctrines of our most Holy Religion conspire to inform us, that the supreme happiness of man is not to be attained without unnumbered labours and conflicts; and all its precepts are calculated to inforce a perpetual activity, and unwearied perseverance, in the "pursuit of the things that belong to our peace." "The Devil, the world, and the flesh," are the great adversaries, who are continually plotting our ruin. The flesh, by which is meant that corrupt nature which we bring with us into the world, is ever harrassing us with its impure suggestions: "the Devil walks about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour:" and the world, by which we are to understand that fallen state of things, in which we at present dwell, never fails of opposing our progress toward Heaven, with its specious, but delusive scenes of happiness. Against the united efforts of such formidable enemies, where shall we find armour of sufficient proof? In a conflict so long and arduous, where shall we meet with such supplies of strength, as will enable us to contend and finally to overcome? The power of contending, and the means of obtaining the victory, are clearly pointed out by the Apostle in my text. "Whatsoever is born of GOD, overcometh the world: and this is the Victory that overcometh the world, even our Faith." From these words it appears, that those who engage in this heavenly warfare, are persons of the highest dignity, and most illustrious birth: they are the offspring of him whose "kingdom is not of this world;" they are "heirs of GOD, and joint-heirs with JESUS CHRIST;" they are "born, not of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of GOD." To be "born of GOD," is to rise out of the ruins of a fallen nature into the glory of a redeemed one. It is to die to Adam, and to live to CHRIST; it is to see, and feel, and to forsake our own weakness and vanity and sin, and adhere to the strength and sufficiency and righteousness of CHRIST. The first great work of the SPIRIT OF TRUTH, as our LORD assures us, is to "convince the world of sin." The foundation of that spiritual edifice which Heaven erects in the souls of men, must be laid in humility: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven!" He that is "born of GOD," lives and acts in direct opposition to him who is "born of the flesh:" meekness and love are the prevailing dispositions of the former; pride and selfishness the ruling tempers of the latter. A discerning mind, spiritually enlightened, and viewing mankind as they really are, and not through the false medium of worldly philosophy, will readily discover the manifest contrariety with which their characters are marked by these two principles. Look round you, my brethren; look into your own hearts; judge for yourselves: your own experience of what is continually passing within and about you, will afford you ample demonstration of these great truths. Wherever we discover in ourselves, or in others, the corrupt passions of pride, envy, ill-nature, avarice, anger, jealousy, malice, prevailing, there we may be as certain of the marks of unregenerate nature, as we are of a disorder in the elements, when we see the heavens overcast with clouds, and thunders and lightnings issuing from every quarter of the sky. On the other hand, where meekness and gentleness, self-abasement, a forgetfulness of our own interest, and a chearful attention to the happiness of others, an heart-felt sympathy in their joys and sorrows, an universal love of GOD and man, testified by a life of uninterrupted piety and charity; wherever we find these amiable graces and virtues, there are the sure marks of Regeneration; there is the true disciple of JESUS, "born of GOD, and overcoming the world." The state of such a soul, with respect to its GOD, may be expressed in words to this effect: "LORD, what is man, that thou hast such respect unto him; or the Son of man, that thou visitest him?" "Behold, LORD, I am less than the least of all thy mercies!" And yet thou hast had respect even unto me; and yet thou hast visited even me, with the greatest of thy mercies! Thou hast caused thy light to shine into the darkness of my nature; thou hast laid open every secret recess of my heart, and shewn me those roots of evil, from whence the innumerable sins of my past life have sprung forth, and diffused their venom throughout my whole frame. Yea, thou hast not only discovered to me the depth and malignity of sin, but, with thy Light, thou hast also imparted thy Life to my soul; thou hast supplied me with strength from above; thou hast furnished me with armour of heavenly proof to encounter the enemies of my peace. Thou hast taught me to despair of my own strength, and to trust in thine arm alone for salvation; thou hast taught me to despise my own righteousness, and to seek thy righteousness in CHRIST JESUS. Though the world should present to me her most alluring charms; though she should give, to her visionary forms, the fairest features that fancy's pencil can delineate; though she should court me to accept her proffered pleasures, in all that false tenderness of language, which artful vice so frequently assumes; yet, armed with thy celestial panoply, I shall be enabled to contend with the enchantress, and overcome her magic power; I shall nobly triumph over all her devices, assert the dignity of my heavenly birth, and preserve my heart unspotted from her impurities. For sure I am; that whilst united in spirit with thee, my GOD and SAVIOUR, I breathe the air of Heaven, I feed upon the bread of angels; the strength of Omnipotence is exerted amid the weakness of nature, and I shall go on, under thine auspicious guidance, "conquering and to conquer." Such is the state of the virtuous and regenerated Christian, with respect to his GOD. With respect to man, his conduct flows from the same Divine and lovely principle. He deems every spiritual blessing, by which he may be distinguished from the rest of his brethren, as the gift of GOD, to be accepted and enjoyed, not with an haughty, but an humble mind. He does not, therefore, stand aloof from them, as if he was holier than they. He cannot, indeed, but shrink from their vices, and, by a prudent distance of behaviour, shew himself averse to, and even offended with their levities. But he pities their blindness, and compassionates the obduracy of their hearts. He is ever ready to exert himself for the real service of wicked, as well as of good men; knowing, that his "heavenly Father sendeth his rain, and causeth his sun to shine, upon the unjust no less than the just." If he is blessed with worldly affluence, he cheerfully administers to the temporal necessities of his indigent neighbours. If he is poor, and can give them no earthly aid, he will do all he can--he will pray for them, and beg his GOD to shower down upon them his temporal, as well as spiritual comforts. He suffers no ill conduct on their part to excite his indignation, or make him forget that they are his brethren, to be redeemed by that precious blood, whose salutary influences he has himself experienced. He envies none their fortunes, honours, and accomplishments; neither does he repine, because he is not so rich, or learned, or polite, or advanced to such an exalted rank in life, as others are. He endeavours to be dead alike to the censure and applause of beings, mortal and fallible as himself; inasmuch as he is convinced, that their good or ill opinion cannot make the least alteration in the real state of his soul: he is, therefore, guilty of no mean compliances, or time-serving practices, to obtain the one, or to avoid the other. He gives "honour to whom honour is due." He endeavours to "owe no man any thing, but love:" he is, therefore, careful, not only to pay every just debt, but to avoid embarking in any worldly schemes or prospects of advancing his own interest, to the injury of others. In a word, by piety to GOD, justice and charity to his neighbour, and chastity and temperance in his own person, he seeks to maintain "a conscience void of offence towards GOD, and towards man;" to fill the station in which he is placed, and support the character in which he appears, in such a manner, as will do honour to the Religion of his Master. This is Evangelical Morality, not confined, as you may observe, to the external conduct of life; but reaching inward, even to the secret thoughts and inclinations of the heart. What is generally called morality, I am afraid, is little more than an external decency, and common sobriety; and it is well, if, in every instance, it is carried even so far. But surely none, but the truly Regenerate Christian, acting under the immediate influence of the DIVINE SPIRIT, can properly be called a moral man. For morality, without an inward principle, is but a name; and the Scriptures tell us of no other true principle, but "the LOVE OF GOD shed abroad in the human heart by his HOLY SPIRIT." Having thus given some of the marks or characteristicks by which the Regenerate Christian, or the "Born of GOD," is to be known, let us now enquire what the Apostle means, by "overcoming the world," and ascribing "the victory to Faith:" "Whatsoever is born of GOD, overcometh the world; and this is the Victory that overcometh the world, even our Faith." "Overcometh the world!" methinks I hear some say--"that is impossible--human nature has passions, and the world abounds with objects suited to gratify them. Surely the GOD of nature hath not placed man in his present circumstances, to make him miserable. He created us for happiness, and hath furnished us with the means of obtaining it. What a senseless doctrine this, that would shut us out from all the joys, which earth holds forth for our acceptance?" Alas, vain man! who told thee, that GOD had given thee such corrupt passions, as now solicit for indulgence? Who told thee, that GOD created thee for this world; and that thou art to take up thy rest in that visionary happiness, which thou findest here? These passions are the proofs of thy fall; for thou hast them in common with the beasts of the field. This world is thy temporary prison, though thy disordered imagination may represent it as a palace. Thou art dreaming, though thou thinkest thyself wide awake. Thou art in darkness, and canst not distinguish the true appearance of objects around thee. Let but the SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS dart one beam into thy benighted soul, and thou wilt soon discover the deception, and long for the power of his Grace to enable thee to triumph over those passions, that have been leading thee blindfold to destruction; and to overcome that world, which hath been cheating thee with visionary gratifications. "Overcome the world!" says some faint-hearted Christian--"Ah me! how infinitely short do I fall of this glorious standard! I have been striving for months, for years, to get the mastery of this powerful adversary, without being yet able to discover that I have gained the least advantage; though I have exerted my utmost endeavours to disengage myself from his subtil, but violent assaults." Hast thou so? But didst thou ever attend to the true and only means, by which the Scriptures have assured thee this conquest may be obtained? "This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our Faith." Now, what is Faith? It is "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen:" that is to say, it is a full and assured trust and confidence in CHRIST, that the things hoped for will be finally obtained, and the things not seen will be fully manifested to our senses. It is such a trust and confidence as realises the immediate possession of them to our minds, so that we regard not any pain or difficulty we meet with in the pursuit, resting upon an OMNIPOTENT GOD, by whose strength in us every obstacle will be gradually removed, and a complete victory at length secured. Why then, O Christian, shouldst thou despair of success? If thou hast hitherto been striving in thine own strength, and depended upon the power of thine own weak resolution, it is no wonder thou hast made such small advances. "Without me, ye can do nothing," says our BLESSED REDEEMER. "I can do all things through CHRIST strengthening me," says his experienced Apostle. When we repose so much confidence in a friend, as to entrust him with the whole management of our temporal affairs, looking to him in every instance, and upon the least appearance of difficulty or embarrassment, running to him for counsel, and implicitly following his directions, from a thorough conviction of our own ignorance, of his superior skill in business, and his known regard and attachment to us; we are then said to have faith in such a friend. And canst thou not, O Christian, have as much Faith in thy SAVIOUR, as one frail mortal has in another? When temptations rise, when dangers threaten, when enemies attack us from within and from without, so that our souls are hard beset, and we know not how to extricate ourselves from the perilous situation; can we not fly with confidence to our Heavenly Friend, ask his counsel, and entreat his powerful interposition in our behalf? He is ever ready and willing to come to our succour. Nothing is wanting but Faith on our part; and "according to our Faith, so shall it be done unto us." We are not, however, to expect that this Victory will be easily or speedily obtained. The Canaanites were suffered to keep possession of the land of promise for a considerable time, lest the Children of Israel, instead of ascribing the glory of the conquest solely to the LORD OF HOSTS, should vainly arrogate it to themselves, and, in consequence of this, lose all sense of their dependence upon him. Many strong and powerful temptations may be permitted to remain unsubdued, to exercise the Christian's Faith, to keep him humble, and duly sensible of his own weakness and inability. Besides, there is a wonderful analogy betwixt natural and spiritual things. The Child of Grace, as well as the Child of Nature, must have a gradual growth, during which many an anxious interval, many a severe pang, many an arduous conflict, must be endured. For let this truth be ever present to our minds, that the Inward Man increases in strength, in proportion as the outward man weakens and decays; and the earthly nature must be totally subdued, before "the BORN OF GOD" can attain the "measure of the stature of the fulness, which is in CHRIST." Nor let what hath been said discourage those sincere and upright minds, who have but lately turned their backs upon the world, and entered into the school of CHRIST. Our trials are always suited to our strength: "GOD will not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able to bear." The Child, the Young Man, and the Father in CHRIST, have exercises proper to their different states; they are led on to glory by an unerring hand, which supports them by its invisible, but powerful influence, through the most rugged thorny paths of the Christian course. There is no spiritual adversary too strong for the Christian, that engages in the Strength of his REDEEMER. David, though a stripling, vanquished with ease the giant of Gath, because "he went out against him," not in his own strength, but in "the Name of the LORD of Hosts, the _God_ of the armies of Israel." The world, with all its temptations and allurements, will be as easily overcome by him, who is truly "born of GOD," as the uncircumcised Philistine was by the hand of David. To conclude: A worldly spirit is one of the greatest enemies we have to encounter, because it insinuates itself into our hearts under as many different forms, as there are different earthly desires predominant. The man of business, according to the more common acceptation of the phrase, hath obtained the name of a worldly man. But the truth is, wherever a worldly temper prevails, whether it manifests itself in the pursuit of wealth, or honour, or pleasure, or literary applause, or indeed of any object, interest, or end, that is confined merely to this transient state of things; there is the Worldly Spirit, the foe to our real happiness, the "man of sin, the son of perdition;" from which may GOD of his infinite mercy deliver us, for the sake of the Son of his Love, CHRIST JESUS our Saviour! DISCOURSE VIII. Faith triumphant over the Powers of Darkness. St. MARK, CHAP. ix. Part of VER. 24. "LORD, I BELIEVE: HELP THOU MINE UNBELIEF!" The false estimate of happiness, which is made by the generality of men, entirely proceeds from their not taking into the account the real, though invisible, objects of another world, with which they are much more intimately concerned than with the present temporary state of things. Hence it is, that they judge of the seeming pleasures of this life, not from a comparative view of them with the superior enjoyments of a better, but according to the proportion which they bear to one another. It is upon this principle, coinciding with the peculiar constitutional desires of different men, that their different worldly pursuits are formed and regulated. The penurious grasping miser declaims, with an eloquence which avarice alone inspires, against the rash and silly conduct of the gay and thoughtless spendthrift. The man of pleasure expresses his astonishment at the strange taste, and stupid employment of his neighbour, who can sit poring over his accounts from morning till night, and values himself upon the accuracy with which they are kept, and the strict economy with which all his expences are regulated. The votary of ambition considers his taste and pursuits of a far more sublime nature than those of either of the former, and looks down with contempt upon the plodding dullness of the miser, and the short-lived pleasures of the sensualist. In the mean while, the sagacious enquirer after knowledge, who spends days and nights in the most laborious researches, perpetually seeking after Truth in the countless volumes of antiquity, congratulates himself upon the superiority of his genius, and wonders that all mankind are not so captivated with the charms of science, as immediately to forsake the false and fleeting joys of avarice, ambition, and voluptuousness. Now all these various desires, employments, and pursuits, however superior some of them may, on comparison, appear to be to others, terminate generally in the nourishment and growth of that fallen life, under which man, in consequence of an original apostasy, is born into this world; and it may truly be said, with respect to them all, that "he is only making provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof:" for when the seeming good of this world is the sole object of his attention and affections, he must necessarily be regardless of the real good of another, and a better world. Whatever his desires center in, that constitutes his life; and his own will may be said to create or call forth, from surrounding nature, every thing that can feed and nourish those desires. He stands in the midst of three worlds, principles, or kingdoms, earth, hell, and heaven; and to which soever of these he surrenders his heart, he becomes subject to its power and influence; so that the real state of every man's soul depends upon the exercise of his will: his will constitutes his faith; and "according to thy faith," says the unerring Standard of Truth, "so shall it be done unto thee." An afflicted parent brings to our BLESSED LORD a favourite child, who was sorely vexed and tormented by an evil spirit, and in the most earnest manner entreats his advice and assistance. The compassionate JESUS, after having enquired into the nature and circumstances of the disorder, and observed the distress and solicitude of the father, tells him, "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." This answer abundantly evinceth the truth of the observation above-mentioned, that our state depends entirely upon the inward exercise of our will or desires. A sensibility of distress naturally disposes us to seek for relief. Nature, without GOD, is nothing but restless want and anguish: and though fallen man is possessed of the powers and principles, by which this want may be supplied, and this anguish effectually relieved, yet he too frequently seeks the remedy in a wrong source; and cannot be convinced of his error, till the pangs of disappointment succeed to the delusive assurances of worldly faith, and the vain anticipations of worldly hope. Upon this view of human nature it was, that the BLESSED JESUS founded his reply; "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." As if he had said: Thou appearest to be under great concern and anxiety of mind, for the present afflicting circumstances of thy child. Thou hast a clear and full perception of the cruel agency of an evil spirit, and canst not doubt, but that all his torments are the effects of diabolical influence. If thou desirest to see him rescued from this violent spirit, and restored to a sound state of mind and body, thou must believe in the more powerful agency of a Superior Spirit, to whose unlimited controul, all the realms of nature, and its innumerable beings, are subjected, and, consequently, that none but This Spirit, or those to whom he imparts his healing powers, can possibly restore thy son. When this belief rises in thine heart, by a living sensibility that carries its own evidence along with it, thou wilt not entertain a doubt of the will and ability of such a Divine Spirit to perform this miracle of Love, but, in the full confidence of Faith, wilt apply to him, and to him alone, for relief. This very turning of thy will and desire to the Fountain of Goodness, makes it unite with those emanations of spiritual health and vigour, which are perpetually flowing forth from his all-merciful and compassionate heart. "All things are possible" to a soul thus disposed and attempered; and thy child's health, and thine own peace of mind, will be the sure and blessed consequence. The affectionate parent, overjoyed at a declaration which was accompanied with such a Divine Power as awakened new sensations in his breast, burst into a flood of tears, and cried out, "LORD, I believe, help thou mine unbelief!" I am sensible, deeply sensible of the absolute necessity of a supernatural interposition; and the mild Majesty of Love, which shines so conspicuous in thy person and address, and whose efficacy hath already passed from thy lips to my poor heart, more than convinces me, that this Supernatural Power of Goodness is lodged with thee. To thee, therefore, and thee alone, I apply! In thee I desire to place my full confidence, earnestly entreating thee to remove from me all darkness, doubt, and uncertainty, by further and brighter manifestations of thyself, and thy heavenly virtues, in my weak and unbelieving heart! We are very apt, when we read this, or other such passages of Scripture, to consider them merely as historical facts, in which we are in no wise particularly interested. What have we to do with evil spirits, or possessions, at this day? Such things might have been permitted, whilst our SAVIOUR was upon earth, to give him an opportunity of displaying the Divine Powers with which he was invested. Alas! my brethren, human nature is just the same now, that it was then: "the prince of the power of the air," and his infernal associates, are as maliciously bent upon our destruction as ever they were; and the same miraculous interposition of the same powerful and compassionate JESUS, is still equally necessary for our security and relief. These spirits of darkness are continually "walking about, seeking whom they may devour:" they enter into all our worldly schemes and views; nay, they are themselves frequently the first projectors of them: they enter into our very blood and spirits, strive to gain possession of the very essence of our souls, and to bring the whole man in subjection to their infernal sway. They have deceived the wise men of this world, whom they have taught to call them by some honourable appellation. Philosophy itself seems, in some instances, to aid them in carrying on their dangerous delusions. Pride, envy, covetousness, lust, malice, which are real spirits of darkness, operating by real, though invisible, influences in the human frame, have made their appearance in a fashionable dress, and have been suffered to keep what is called the best company, when introduced by the names of honour, decency, taste, dignity of sentiment, virtuous resentment, free-thinking, and free-acting: they are, however, devils in disguise, and are secretly undermining the real felicity of man. Had we such a view of their cruel treatment of us, as the father just mentioned had of their treatment of his child, you may think, perhaps, that we should take the same steps which he did, towards obtaining relief. And what is it that hinders us from having such a view of our real misery? What, but that fascinating charm, which these very spirits throw before our eyes to deceive us? They surround every worldly object with a false lustre, and thus dazzle, in order to ensnare. Yea, though we frequently detect the imposture, a succeeding one blinds us again. A future world lessens to our view, in proportion as we become attached to the present. Nor is the charm totally dissolved, till, by frequent disappointment and vexation, we have learned to read and understand the true name and character of worldly bliss, even "Vanity of vanities!" As long as we have Faith in this world, we can have no Faith in another; as long as ever we "think ourselves whole," we shall not apply to a physician, or have the least confidence in his skill. But, blessed be GOD, there is a time, when the evil spirit tears and wounds the child, and casts him into the fire, and into the water, insomuch, that the affrighted parent is constrained to fly to JESUS for aid. In pain, in sorrow, in distress, in temptation, or upon a sick and dying bed, the sad effects of every diabolical delusion frequently appear in their true colours. Though the infernal spirits themselves then work within us with aggravated rage; though they seem to avail themselves of our bodily indisposition, to storm the citadel of our hearts; yet they are, in these instances, often egregiously deceived themselves. The trembling sinner, destitute of every outward comfort, which sun, and air, and animal spirits could give him, beholds every sublunary object in its genuine colours, stripped of its false glare, and emptied of its delusive treasure. He cries aloud for help?--"What shall I do to be saved?" The Child of GOD, the offspring of Heaven within me, will be torn to pieces and destroyed by the spirits of darkness. LORD, if thou canst do any thing, have compassion on me and help me! "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth," is the soft answer whispered to his soul. A beam of Heavenly Light and Love accompanies it; sweet silence and stillness succeed; till at length the soul, overpowered by an inexpressible sensibility of meekness and humility, breaks forth in the language of my text, "Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief!" The storm ceaseth; the evil spirits are cast out, and the Child of GOD is delivered from their oppressive bondage. "Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief," should be the constant language of every Christian's heart. No words can more emphatically express the weakness of man, and his absolute resignation to the will of GOD, than these: they take every thing from the creature, and give all to the Creator. Whenever the human will is thus effectually turned to GOD, it soon manifests its origin, as coming forth from the essentially and eternally Free Will of GOD. It brings down Heaven into the soul; it triumphs over all opposition; and, through the greatest weakness of human nature, it evidences the all-conquering power of DIVINE LOVE. Why then, O man! O Christian! Why shouldst thou despond in the hour of trial? "Faith is, indeed, the gift of GOD;" but it is a gift, which he bestoweth liberally upon all that ask it. Light and darkness, life and death, heaven and hell, are set before us: freely to chuse, and freely to reject, belongs to that free particle of the Divine Essence, which "stirs within us." It was, originally, before the fall of man, the gift of GOD IN CHRIST JESUS. It was the constitution of our nature in its unfallen state: it was, if I may so speak, the Great Charter of Heaven, freely delivered by the King of Heaven, to all his sons and subjects; and though blotted, obliterated, lost by an original apostasy, it is now restored, regained, and purchased by a REDEEMER'S blood. Shall we then tamely suffer these Rights of Heaven to be invaded by the powers of darkness? Shall we suffer the Child of GOD, the Redeemed of the HOLY ONE OF ISRAEL, to be taken captive by the armies of aliens? Shall the splendor of accumulated wealth, the gay circle of worldly pleasure, the tinsel trappings of honour, or the fading breath of popular applause, make us forget our native home, forget that we are but "strangers and pilgrims upon earth," and that we are "fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the houshold of GOD?" Shall we continue the willing slaves of the spirits of darkness, of pride, envy, covetousness and wrath, whilst Heaven is declared to be our inheritance, and our REDEEMER hath assured us, that we have "mansions prepared for our reception in his Father's House." Regardless, however, as many of you, my brethren, may be of these illustrious privileges now, the time may come, when a proper sensibility of your present bondage, will make you cry aloud for deliverance; when the service of earth and hell will appear base, dishonourable, and unworthy the free-born sons of Light. When the good Providence of GOD, in kind commiseration of your secure and thoughtless state, shall send sorrow and affliction to your houses and to your hearts; when the shaft of anguish shall wound you, either in your own persons, or in the persons of those whom you love; when duty, when affection shall call you to some solemn death-bed scene, where you shall behold expiring life just quivering upon the lips of a dear departing friend or relative; or when your own frail tabernacles shall be shaken by disease, and you shall feel death approaching to take possession of the throne of life; when the counsels of the wise, and the sorrows of the tender-hearted, can stand you in no stead; when the immortal tenant of your earthly mansion is just ready to take his flight, and stands trembling on the confines of a world unknown; at these, or such like awful seasons, those amongst you, who have not heretofore experienced the power of Divine Faith, will then, if ever, be made sensible of your want of it. The visionary scene of earthly bliss will vanish like a morning cloud, and deep heart-felt anguish will wring the soul, and make it feel the full horrors of its bondage. But to those, who have already tasted the comforts of religion, and who have long been groaning for deliverance from the captivity of an evil nature, and an evil world, Faith will open the doors of their prison, let in the Light of Heaven as they are able to bear it, and sweetly sing this song of consolation to their departing spirits: "I will ransom them from death; I will redeem them from the power of the grave. O death! I will be thy plague; O grave! I will be thy destruction." DISCOURSE IX. The Flourishing State of the Regenerate. PSALM i. VER. 3. "HE SHALL BE LIKE A TREE PLANTED BY THE RIVERS OF WATER, THAT BRINGETH FORTH HIS FRUIT IN HIS SEASON: HIS LEAF ALSO SHALL NOT WITHER, AND WHATSOEVER HE DOTH SHALL PROSPER." Whatever seeming inequality there may be in the dispensations of the Almighty, or however partial he may appear to the eye of human reason, in his distribution of spiritual or temporal blessings among the sons of men; it will, nevertheless, be found, at the consummation of the great scheme of Providence; that he has done every thing "in number, weight, and measure;" and that every part and period of the Divine Administration hath been planned by unerring Wisdom, and conducted by universal and impartial Love. Minute philosophers, and men who value themselves upon what they call a liberal and enlarged way of thinking, may imagine, that this is no more than a religious dream; and argue, from present appearances, that "all things happen alike unto all men, and that there is but one event to the righteous and to the wicked, to him that serveth GOD, and to him that serveth him not." But the Heaven-taught philosopher, whose inward eye is illuminated from above, can see into the secret springs, by which the vast machine is perpetually kept in motion, and by which all the infinite variety of workings in intelligent and inanimate nature, are rendered subservient to the Glory of GOD, and the final consummation of his eternal plan in the supreme felicity of his creatures. By virtue of that heavenly euphrasy with which his visual ray is purged and cleansed, he sees, and is intimately convinced, that notwithstanding the frequent vicissitudes with which the life of a good man is sadly checquered, he is nevertheless "like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; that his leaf also doth not wither, and whatsoever he doth shall prosper." There is a peculiar beauty and propriety in this similitude, and every part of it bears a wonderful analogy to that spiritual life, into which fallen man hath been reinstated by the MEDIATION OF THE SON OF GOD. Man, by turning his will from his Maker, lost that paradisiacal glory, in which he was originally created; and found nothing left, in its stead, but a wrathful spirit within, and a dark disordered world without. By this act of his own will, he transplanted his nature, if I may so speak, from the delightful garden of Eden, in which the ALMIGHTY had placed him, into the midst of a thorny barren desart. He deprived it of all that nourishment it received from those waters of life, which surrounded the blissful spot; and, in consequence, it must have been parched up and have withered away, had not DIVINE LOVE affectionately interposed, and put him once more into a capacity of recovering his lost inheritance, and regaining the vital streams, by which alone his heavenly nature could be preserved and cherished. It is true, man still continues in the desart of fallen nature: the first Adam is still condemned to till the ground from whence he was taken. But the second Adam, the LORD from Heaven, hath caused those rivers of water, which are solely at his disposal, to flow through the dry and comfortless waste, that "the wilderness and solitary place might thereby be made glad, and the desart rejoice and blossom like the rose." When man, therefore, convinced of his dark and barren state by nature, and the sovereign efficacy of these waters of life to chear and restore him, freely opens his heart for their reception, he is then, indeed, like "a tree planted by the rivers of water:" his roots shoot deep, and his branches spread fair and luxuriant in the heavenly element: the kindly moisture insinuates itself into every part, and leaves, and flowers, and fruits, manifest the internal operation of the life-giving stream. "I am the vine, ye are the branches"--says the LORD OF LIFE.--"As the branch cannot bear fruit, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me." There must be an intimate union betwixt CHRIST and his redeemed offspring; an union not suddenly formed, and as suddenly broken, but piously and constantly maintained; an abiding union, without which there can be no communication of his Heavenly Virtues, and, consequently, no fruits of holiness. But wheresoever this blessed union effectually takes place, the regenerated nature soon springs forth; the bud, the blossom, the leaves, the fruits, all appear in their proper season: the man of GOD stands forth content, and, like a tree nourished by a living stream, imparts his refreshing shade, and pleasant wholesome fruits, to all around. Would you know what these fruits are? They are fully enumerated by the Apostle, who tells us, that "the fruits of the SPIRIT are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." These fruits, says my text, are "brought forth in their season." The sun must shine upon the tree, the air must breathe, the dews and rains must descend, and the rivers of water must rise through the roots into the trunk and branches. All this process must be performed, before the fruit will appear. It is just so with that "plant of celestial seed," which is sown in the human heart. Meekness, humility, resignation, love, &c. are not the growth of an hour: days, and months, and years, must pass, before they will begin to appear. I well know, that the first faint manifestation of these graces in an awakened soul, hath frequently been mistaken for the whole of a sinner's conversion. It has been called the "Witness of the SPIRIT," testifying to the sinner, that the act of his justification is past, and that his pardon is sealed in the courts of Heaven. The Witness of the SPIRIT it undoubtedly is, because it results from an union of the human spirit with the Divine. And as the DIVINE SPIRIT is meekness and love supreme, so it is no wonder that such an union should produce such a spiritual sensation. But we are not to conclude from hence, that a sudden, and seemingly instantaneous sensibility of Heavenly Peace and Love, can be the whole of our conversion. It is, doubtless, a sweet token of Divine Grace; an happy earnest of the residence of the DIVINE SPIRIT, who, perhaps, for years before, had been seeking to manifest himself in our hearts, and now gives this present consolation, as the result of previous and frequent operations. Our salvation is so far from depending upon these momentary sensations, that our LORD expressly assures us, that though we are united to him by as intimate an union as "the branches are to the vine;" yet, except "we abide in him, we shall be cast as withered branches into the fire." "Let him, then, that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall." Let us not value ourselves upon past experiences, or think that we are GOD'S children, and that our names are indelibly written in his book of life, merely because we were once under spiritual distress, and were once rescued from it by the consolations of his SPIRIT. Nothing can preserve us in a state of union with our Divine REDEEMER, but an inward, constant thirsting after those "waters of life," which he alone can give us. Whilst we stand before him in such a frame of soul, meekly and humbly waiting for such portions of his Grace, as he sees necessary and expedient to impart, we may then be assured, that "our leaf shall not wither, and that whatsoever we do shall prosper." For when the will of man coincides with the Divine Will, and is implicitly resigned thereto in every situation, circumstance, and event of life, he must necessarily prosper, because GOD wills nothing but Good, and Good Supreme is the aim and end of all his dispensations. Well, but say some, How can this be? Do we not daily see the best of men, groaning under the most grievous calamities, pining away with sickness, worn out with pain, or afflicted with some sad reverses of fortune? On the other hand, do we not daily behold men, who shew not the least regard to religion, who have no fear of GOD before their eyes, who neither in private nor in public testify the least sense of their dependance upon him, or their connexion with another world, who violate his sabbaths, deride his Revelation, and scoff at every thing that bears the appearance of seriousness or sobriety; do we not daily behold such men advanced to the pinnacle of preferment, abounding in wealth, favoured with health and strength, and surrounded with every good thing this world can afford? Yes--we certainly do; and so did David many ages since. But attend to David's reflections upon this subject, and you will find them rational and satisfactory. "I was grieved at the wicked: I do also see the ungodly in such prosperity. For they are in no peril of health, but are lusty and strong. They come in no misfortune like other folk, neither are they plagued like other men. Lo, these are the ungodly; these prosper in the world, and these have riches in possession: and I said, then have I cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency. Yea, I had almost said even as they; but lo, then I should have condemned the generation of thy children. Then thought I to understand this, but it was too hard for me, until I went into the sanctuary of GOD; then understood I the end of these men, namely, that thou dost set them in slippery places, and castest them down and destroyest them. O, how suddenly do they consume, perish, and come to a fearful end!" These are David's reflections on the condition of wicked men in his day; and the experience of preceding, as well as of after-ages, does abundantly confirm them. Vice will, sooner or later, meet with its recompence, even in this world. But supposing this should not be the case, and that good and righteous men should have a much larger share of temporal misery than the wicked; yet it may with truth be said, that by this very misery they prosper; yea, that their inward prosperity keeps pace with their outward sufferings. Every thing that has a tendency to disengage the heart and affections from this transient scene of things, ought to be deemed a real blessing. Now, who can deny, that sickness, pain, sorrow and affliction, have in their very nature this tendency? and, when seen by the happy sufferer in a true point of light, they never fail of producing this effect. Hence it is, that many a pious soul is enabled to rejoice in such visitations, and to thank GOD for them as the richer blessings: for, "though no chastisement for the present is joyous, but rather grievous; yet it afterwards yields the peaceable fruits of righteousness to those that are exercised thereby." True it is, that the outward man suffers, and is sadly weakened and distressed; but the Inward Man, the Child of GOD, thrives and prospers. The riches of eternity appear more and more real, in proportion as he discovers the vanity of time; and his disappointment in any worldly concern, is sure to render him more prosperous and successful in matters of eternal moment. Alas! methinks I hear some say, it would be well if it were always so. But are not many good men afflicted inwardly, as well as outwardly? Are they not often destitute of spiritual as well as of worldly comforts? Are not their souls as much bowed down by the weight of their sinful nature, as their bodies by temporal evils and infirmities? And can these men be said to "prosper in whatsoever they do?" Surely, they are alike unfortunate with respect to the present and the future world. Suspend thy judgment, poor partial observer! reason not from appearances. Inward darkness, and distress, and anguish, are the proper inlets through which the CHRIST OF GOD is received into the heavy-laden soul. A sensibility of its burden makes it groan for relief: and the very moment that "patience hath done its perfect work," and the human will is thereby brought to yield itself with implicit resignation to its GOD, the burden drops, and sweet peace and tranquillity of soul succeed. GOD never willingly afflicts his children; he deals with them as a most indulgent parent. Sin must be known and felt, before it can be shunned and conquered. And it is by repeated strokes, that the wayward child is taught to avoid what may prove injurious and destructive to its happiness. To conclude with the apt similitude of my text: the real Christian is "like a tree planted by the rivers of water;" they afford it all the nourishment that is necessary. The stormy wind and the beating rain, while they try its strength, increase it; they make it cling closer to the kindly soil, take deeper root, and bear fruit in greater abundance. Thus, "all things work together for good, to them that love GOD;" and "whatsoever they do," notwithstanding the many apparent disappointments and disquietudes they meet with, "shall finally prosper," and terminate in never-fading bliss. DISCOURSE X. The Cause and Cure of the Disorders of Human Nature. St. MARK, CHAP. vii. VER. 34. "AND LOOKING UP TO HEAVEN, HE SIGHED; AND SAITH UNTO HIM, EPHPHATHA! THAT IS, BE OPENED." A serious and philosophical mind, contemplating the innumerable evils, physical and moral, to which men are exposed during their short continuance in this world, would very naturally conclude, that the present state could not be that for which the ALMIGHTY originally intended them. Storms and tempests, sickness and pain, darkness and disorder, in the natural world; and the various and destructive effects of pride, envy, covetousness, and wrath, in the moral world; are so contrary to the Divine Nature, which is Life, Light, and Love, eternal and unchangeable, that it would be almost blasphemy to say, that such a system was the original finished workmanship of his adorable hand. To such contemplations as these, philosophy might lead her sober votary--But Divine Revelation alone can carry him back to the origin of things, and give him the true information with respect to their present appearances. By this we learn, that the beautiful order and harmony of creation were marred by the creature's transgression; who turning his will from the source of infinite GOODNESS, lost that first gate in which his Maker had placed him, and wherein all was light and joy; and found himself in subjection to an evil nature within, and a world of darkness and distress without. By this Revelation also we are informed, that nothing less than a return to his Original Source, could reinstate him in his original bliss; that this return could be rendered possible in no other way, than by a ray, a spark, a seed, an earnest, a taste or touch of his first life, imparted or inspoken into his fallen nature by the GOD OF LOVE, to be gradually opened and unfolded by such a Redeeming Process, as, with the co-operation of his own will, would effectually restore him to his primeval felicity; and that this was undertaken, and only could be undertaken and accomplished, by that ETERNAL SON OF THE FATHER, in and by whom man was originally created, and in and by whom alone he could be redeemed. Accordingly we find, that when this Express Image of the Hidden Deity appeared on earth, cloathed in our fallen flesh and blood, he was invested with an absolute and uncontroulable power and authority over the whole system of temporary nature. His wonder-working Fiat was sufficient to calm, in an instant, the most aggravated fury of the winds and seas; and, as proceeding from the same wrathful source, to assuage the violence of raging fevers; to heal, by a mere touch, by a word, the most inveterate diseases; and to restore every organ of sense, which had been injured or destroyed, to its true state, and proper use and function. And as all outward disorders primarily proceed from a wrong state of the human spirit, his influence pervaded the inmost recesses of the soul, and awakened and called forth that precious spark of his own Heavenly Fire, which had lain buried under the ashes of sin; and bade it enlighten, invigorate, and restore health and peace to, the whole man. The gospel for the day presents us with a very remarkable instance of the amazing effects of these redeeming powers--"JESUS, departing from the coasts of Tyre and Sidon, came unto the sea of Galilee, through the midst of the coasts of Decapolis: and they bring unto him one that was deaf, and had an impediment in his speech; and they beseech him to put his hand upon him. And he took him aside from the multitude, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spit and touched his tongue: and looking up to heaven, he sighed, and saith unto him, Ephphatha! that is, Be opened!" There are three circumstances in this miraculous cure worthy of our serious attention, viz. the looking up to heaven, the sigh, and the Ephphatha. I. The looking up to heaven, was beautifully expressive of the real situation, in which this great Restorer of human nature stood before his Heavenly Father. It was intended, no doubt, to communicate to every attentive observer, this great lesson of instruction; that all the powers and virtues of which he was possessed, came down from above; that they were communicated to him "without measure;" and that he could have no authority over the evils of human life, so as either to mitigate or remove them, but by standing continually in the Heavenly World, inspiring its air, receiving its beams of light and love, and sending them forth into every human heart, that was truly desirous of their salutary influence; and that it was by such a communication alone, that he should be enabled to restore hearing and speech to the unhappy patient they had brought before him. II. This look was accompanied with a sigh. A sigh seems to indicate distress. An anxious oppressed and afflicted heart is sometimes so full, as to deprive the tongue of the power of utterance; it vents itself, therefore, in a sigh. But what could oppress or afflict the heart of the Meek and Innocent JESUS? His body, though a fallen one, does not seem to have been sick or in pain; his soul was sweetly attempered to Divine Love, and could have felt nothing but inward peace and serenity--and yet, he sighs!--The poor deaf and dumb sinner, who stood before him, had reason enough to sigh: but he was insensible of his misery, and therefore sought not for relief. The truth is this: The BLESSED JESUS, as the Second Adam, the Father and Regenerator of our whole lapsed race, voluntarily assumed our nature, and became as intimately united to it, as the head to the members of the body. In consequence of this union, "he knows whereof we are made, he remembers that we are but dust." His sympathetic heart is sensible of every want and distress of every son and daughter of Adam. He is persecuted with the church that Saul persecuteth; and who--"so toucheth his children, toucheth the apple of his eye." Yea, he feels for those, who feel not for themselves; and sighs over the sad state of those, who are blind to their true happiness; "who call evil good, and good evil; who put darkness for light, and light for darkness." It was from such a tender sensibility of human woe, that our Lord sighed; whilst he was preparing to perform this miracle of love. This look, this sigh, seem to have uttered some such language as this: "O Heavenly Father! I am come into this world to fulfil thy blessed will, in the restoration of fallen men to their primeval light and glory. My desire of accomplishing this great work, which is continually called forth by a general view of their complicated misery, as well as by the particular wants and distresses of individuals, now solicits, in favour of the poor mortal that stands before me, the application of those healing powers, which I have received from thee!" This expression of our LORD'S desire, coinciding with the Eternal Will to All Goodness, immediately produced the Divine Ephphatha. III. "And he saith unto him, Ephphatha! that is, Be opened." Whatever salutary efficacy there may be in medicine, it must proceed from that Heavenly virtue, which rises from the re-union of divided properties. This re-union is the source of health, and the restoration of aught that may be impaired in any of our outward organs, or inward faculties. To him, who had all nature under his controul, who knew how to bring together and unite, in an instant, those properties which have been separated, a single word, the mere motion of his will, was sufficient to produce the desired effect. The same Majesty that said, "Let there be light!" when "darkness was upon the face of the deep," now uttered the authoritative cure, "Be opened!" The injured organs were instantly renewed; "his ears were opened, the string of his tongue was loosed, and he spake plain." The same Supernatural Powers, which the BLESSED JESUS displayed upon this occasion, he still continues to exercise in the hearts of his redeemed offspring. This look, this sigh, this Ephphatha, is spiritually fulfilled in the relief of every one, who is convinced of his spiritual disorders, and applies to CHRIST for a cure. Deaf and dumb with respect to our inward and spiritual senses, we all are by nature. We can hear and speak, in deed, of worldly things, with a quickness and facility, which manifests, in innumerable instances, the strong attraction by which they hold our attention and affections. The calls of business and of pleasure, we are ever ready to answer: our earthly senses are continually open; but our heavenly faculties are closed by a thousand obstructions, which we suffer the world, the flesh, and the devil, to form in our hearts. The great Shepherd of Israel, who is perpetually employed in "seeking and saving that which was lost," makes use of a variety of means and methods to bring the soul to a conviction of its loss. The efficacy of these depends, indeed, upon the concurrence of the human will; because nothing can come into the soul, but what itself wills or desires. The different dispensations of Providence are wisely and affectionately adapted to the different circumstances of individuals: the end and design of them all is one and the same, viz. to bring the wandering creature to a sense of his deviations, and "to guide his feet into the ways of peace." By whatever means this conviction is wrought, the soul soon becomes sensible of its mistaken choice, and soon determines to withhold its attention from the calls of earthly objects. In vain does the Syren sing her delusive song; it ceases now to charm; for the finger of GOD stops the outward ear, that the inward ear may be opened to a sweeter note. The awakened sinner "looks up and lifts up his head, for his redemption draweth nigh"--looks up to Heaven--For what? for the healing hand of his Redeemer to interpose, and remove every remaining obstruction--looks up, and sighs--No desire of deliverance, without a previous sensibility of distress--a sigh is the true language of desire; it is more effectual than long prayer; it is prayer itself, in its true spirit: words do frequently render it less spiritual. The sigh of a contrite sinner brings down Heaven into his heart. JESUS often sighed. He loves a sigh; it invites him into his own Temple; and "Ephphatha, Be opened!" is the blessed voice that precedes his salutary entrance. Be opened!--Opened, to what?--To the Harmony of Heaven; to the symphonies of angels; to "the Voice of the Bridegroom." "The marriage of the Lamb" is come; the Bride is prepared; the silver chord is tried; the blessed union is completed! The soul is now all eye, all ear, all heart, all tongue; and eye, and ear, and heart, and tongue, are all employed in receiving the gifts and graces, and celebrating the beauties and perfections of him, who is "fairest among ten thousand, who is altogether lovely." O BLESSED JESUS! vouchsafe, we beseech thee, so to manifest thy power in opening our ears, and loosing our tongues, that we may henceforth hear no voice but thine, and offer up our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving to none but thee, who, with the FATHER and the HOLY SPIRIT, art ONE GOD, blessed for evermore! DISCOURSE XI. The Riches and Glory of the Christian. 1 COR. CHAP. iii. VER. 21, 22, 23. "THEREFORE, LET NO MAN GLORY IN MEN. FOR ALL THINGS ARE YOURS; WHETHER PAUL, OR APOLLOS, OR CEPHAS, OR THE WORLD, OR LIFE, OR DEATH, OR THINGS PRESENT, OR THINGS TO COME; ALL ARE YOURS, AND YE ARE CHRIST'S, AND CHRIST IS GOD'S." These words contain a complete and beautiful enumeration of those distinguishing privileges to which human nature is exalted, by virtue of that glorious plan of Redemption, which JESUS CHRIST THE SON OF GOD hath accomplished for our whole fallen race. They were occasioned by some little jealousies and envyings, which had broken out among the Corinthians, in consequence of an undue attachment to particular apostles and preachers of the gospel; some declaring themselves publickly in favour of one, and some of another; some saying they were of Paul, others of Apollos, and others of Cephas. Upon this occasion the blessed Apostle, in the true spirit of Christian Love, and free disinterested impartial Charity, reminds them of this grand and important truth, "that no man can lay any other foundation, than that is laid, even JESUS CHRIST;" that whatever difference there might be in the particular gifts and talents of their different preachers, yet no preference was to be given on this account, but their attention was solely to be directed to those fundamental principles, which all were labouring to inculcate, though all were not equally agreeable and captivating in their modes of communication and address. These differences were to be considered as accidental and external, and by no means sufficient to warrant any partial personal distinctions. He makes use of a variety of the most sensible and cogent arguments, to dissuade them from a conduct so illiberal and unchristian; and in order most effectually to silence such a spirit of contention, he reminds them, in my text, of the high and exalted privileges to which they themselves were called in CHRIST JESUS--"Therefore let no man glory in men." As if he had said: Let none of you value yourselves upon your personal attachment to this or that favourite Apostle; let none of you boast of the superior spiritual excellencies of those particular teachers, to whom you have fondly surrendered your affections; or look upon the spiritual knowledge you have acquired, as proceeding from any powers or virtues in them, superior to those of their brethren: for let me assure you, such vain distinctions are beneath the character of those, who are themselves united to that very Source and Fountain, from whence the living streams of real knowledge, holiness, and happiness, do alone proceed: "For all things are yours, whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to come; all are yours, and ye are CHRIST'S, and CHRIST is GOD'S." What a glorious inheritance is here! the whole universe of things declared to belong to the Redeemed Race of Adam! No prophecy is of private interpretation. From the beginning to the end of the Bible, every prediction, every promise, every truth therein delivered, equally belongs to every individual of the human race: they are addressed to all without exception. What a senseless distinction then is that, which some narrow minds have adopted, and are fond of propagating, that the promises of Scripture are made to none but believers? Whereas, these promises are the very foundation of every one's faith, and the ground upon which every one's hope of Salvation rests. No son of fallen Adam can apply for pardon upon any other ground, than that the promises of Scripture, which are founded upon the Universal and Impartial Love of God, are made to him, and every other person in the like circumstances. His faith in these promises makes a glorious change, with respect to himself; but, on the part of GOD, who is "the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever," they were made to him before he believed, or thought any thing about them: "We love him, because he first loved us." He hath elected all mankind to salvation, in his Son JESUS CHRIST. An immortal inheritance is secured to all, by the Merits of this BLESSED MEDIATOR; and if any fall short of this salvation, or lose their inheritance, the blame must lie at their own door: "They would not come to CHRIST, that they might have life." Should an affectionate parent, with the utmost care and anxiety, make such an ample provision for the sober and virtuous education of his children, as, if accepted and improved by them, would secure to them knowledge, esteem, and happiness in this world; would not such a parent be thought to have done all that love and tenderness could do in this respect, for the future welfare of his offspring? The provision is equally secured to all; and yet, if any thoughtless, perverse, disobedient child, should refuse to avail himself of these paternal blessings, and prefer an idle, dissolute, and abandoned life, to all the advantages which the father had taken care he should be furnished with, he might justly be told, as the Apostle tells the Corinthians--"All these things are yours." Your Father hath made you equal with the rest of his children--knowledge, esteem, and happiness, is as much in your power as in theirs; your falling short of them, therefore, is owing to nothing but your own perverse disposition--"they are yours," but you will not enjoy them. The same might be said of a temporal inheritance equally divided among a family of children; each has an equal portion: and yet if any child should be so weak and silly, as to chuse to forego the enjoyment of his share, and prefer penury and contempt to opulence and honour, he might still be told, that the portion was his, though he was so foolish as to neglect and forsake it. Even so, "an inheritance incorruptible, immortal, and that fadeth not away," is secured, in CHRIST JESUS, to every individual of our fallen race: "All things are ours," by virtue of that Heavenly nature, which we inherit from JESUS CHRIST the second Adam. Upon the birth, growth, and maturity of this Heavenly Nature, depends our possession of this Eternal Inheritance; and this birth, growth, and maturity again depend upon the co-operation of our wills, which are eternally and essentially free, with the Divine Will. What I have here asserted, is fully consonant to the very letter of Scripture: "GOD is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance." But if GOD is willing to save all, Why are not all saved? Why do not all men come immediately to repentance?--The reason is obvious: it depends not, as some vainly assert, upon a Secret Will of GOD, distinct from his Revealed Will. Such an idea of the GOD OF TRUTH AND LOVE, is unscriptural, and even blasphemous--No, it depends wholly upon the co-operation of our wills, with the unchangeable Will of GOD. The promise is made to all; the inheritance is secured to all; but the possession and enjoyment can never come, till the will of the creature is united to the will of the Creator; till from a deep conviction of his own nothingness by nature, he freely opens his heart to the influences of Grace--and then he finds, by a blessed experience, that, "having nothing, he possesseth all things." When a minister of CHRIST, therefore, addresses himself to a sinner, insensible of his fallen condition, and strongly attached to that earthly life, which he inherits from fallen Adam, he cannot use a more effectual argument, than that which the Apostle in my text presses upon the divided and contentious Corinthians--For so far as these jealousies and disputes prevailed among them, they were doubtless under the evil influences of the same corrupt nature, to which the unregenerate are in bondage. Why, vain mortal, why, alas! art thou so strangely blind to thy best interests, so amazingly neglectful of thy real happiness? Thou fleest from the substance, and embracest a shadow; thou pursuest the vanity of time, and despisest the riches of eternity; thou preferrest the life of a beast to the life of an angel; thou art content to feed upon husks among swine, whilst in "thy Father's house there is bread enough, and to spare."--Thou art in search of a false and delusive happiness in this world, whilst, if thou wouldst but attend to and "know the things that belong to thy peace," thou wouldst soon discover, that "all things are thine." For poor, wretched, sinful, polluted as thou art in thine outward nature, thou hast, within thee, a Seed of Eternal Life, a Birth of the TRIUNE GOD, a Son of the Second Adam, a Reconception of the Light and Love of GOD, an Angel near its birth. To this seed, this birth, this son, this reconception, this angel in thy breast, belongs the Kingdom of Heaven, the pure element of Life, and Light, and Love. JESUS CHRIST, thy Ever Blessed Redeemer, hath sown in thy heart, and in the hearts of all thy fellow-sinners, this Seed of his own Heavenly Nature, by means of which, he affectionately purposes to redeem thee from the bondage of corruption, and exalt thee to a glorious state of life and liberty. As he is invested with "all power both in heaven and in earth," so this offspring of his, which is within thee, will become a partaker of his Power, in proportion as it becomes a partaker of his Life and Spirit, in proportion as it increases in Heavenly Wisdom and Stature. If thou shouldst ask, how this growth and increase is to be obtained, and how all things are thine?--I could answer thee, that as the earth-born babe could never grow and increase in bodily strength, without a perpetual supply of the light, and air, and food, which this outward world affords; so it is as really and physically true, that the Heaven-born offspring of the Second Adam, can never grow or increase in spiritual strength, without the light, and air, and food of the heavenly world, imparted by its tender and affectionate parent, JESUS CHRIST: and as nothing disposes the earthly infant to receive that nourishment which is suited to its nature, but the hunger of that nature, earnestly crying for a supply; so nothing can dispose the Heavenly babe within, to receive the precious influences of Divine Life and Grace, which alone can satisfy its nature, but an hunger and earnest desire of this Heavenly Food; or, in other words, the spirit of the will turning to CHRIST, loathing all other nourishment, and desiring only to be fed with his Bread of Eternal Life. Thus fed, supported, and strengthened, by a Vital Union with thine adorable REDEEMER, thou standest not in thine own strength, but in his; not in thine own righteousness, but the Righteousness of CHRIST within thee; not in thine outward and perishing nature, but in thy inward, Angelical, and Divine Nature. In this nature, sweetly mingling with its own kindred element, thou art safe, firm and collected; all temporal objects are beneath thy feet; like Adam in his paradisiacal state, the earth, and all that is therein, is subject to thy will. Health and sickness, prosperity and adversity, storms and calms, spiritual comforts or spiritual distresses, the vicissitudes of life, the horrors of death, the vanity of time, and the riches of eternity, are all at thy command, and thou makest them all subservient to thy spiritual growth and consolation. All these powers, virtues, and enjoyments, are thine; thine by the Free Gift of GOD in CHRIST JESUS, imparted to thee; and made thine, at the very moment the "Seed of the Woman" was inspoken into Adam's fallen nature. It is true, they are in an hidden state, and require the strongest exertion of thy will co-operating with thy Saviour, in calling them forth. They can only appear and manifest themselves, in proportion as thy will is given up to CHRIST, in proportion as thou diest to thine earthly nature, and its earthly desires, and becomest one Desire, one Will, one Spirit with thy REDEEMER. This is not a sudden and instantaneous work: the process is slow and painful. Many a right hand must be cut off; many a right eye must be plucked out; many a favourite passion must be sacrificed, many a weary step taken, many a temptation baffled, many a victory obtained against the devil, the world, and the flesh, before "all things are thine" by actual possession. The combat is tedious, and the victory sometimes appears doubtful. But be not discouraged at this--darkness as well as light, doubt as well as assurance, weakness as well as strength, will help thee on thy way. Thy REDEEMER is perpetually watching over his own offspring; he eyes thee with ineffable compassion throughout thy whole progress, and renders all its vicissitudes subservient to thy real and eternal welfare. Think not, that it is necessary to thy spiritual growth, that thou shouldst walk in perpetual sun-shine, beneath a clear unclouded sky. The howling winds, the beating rain, are equally necessary at times; and are as powerful and operative in spiritual, as in earthly vegetation. Through these, and worse than these, even the gloomy vale of the shadow of death, the invisible hand of an Omnipotent REDEEMER shall conduct thee safe to a region of uncreated light and glory, where eternal nature, in its essential and unchangeable splendors, manifests the Beatifying Presence of FATHER, SON, AND HOLY GHOST, in their full and undivided Trinity of Glory. What though pain of body, and inward anguish of soul, should assault thee; what though disease should blast the bloom of health, and convulsion rack and rend thine earthly frame; what though death, with all his grim attendants, should knock at thy door, summon thee to relinquish all thy temporal prospects, and to enter at once into the world of spirits; this single reflection, that CHRIST has made "all things thine," will be sufficient to support thy sinking frame; nay, more, thou wilt rejoice in thy deliverance from the captivity of the body, look forward with transport into the Paradise to which thou art hastening, nor "cast one longing lingering look behind." Such an address as this, from a minister of CHRIST, to a poor thoughtless sinner, I cannot but think, by the blessing of GOD, would have a more sure and certain effect upon his hardened heart, than all the terrors of eternal damnation, thundered, as is too frequently the case, with more than brutal violence and impetuosity against him. For such a method would open two things to his mind, which are equally necessary to be revealed to him, neither of which he can attend to in his present thoughtless condition, viz. the sin and vanity of his fallen life, and the comfort, happiness, and glory of his redeemed nature--one should never be opened without the other: it would only be probing the wound, without administring the restoring balsam. This method which I have mentioned, was that which our dear REDEEMER and his blessed Apostles always used; and if Christian ministers would more carefully tread in their footsteps, they might be sure of greater success: not perhaps in the way of extraordinary awakenings, violent convictions, and instantaneous joys; but in the still, calm, and soothing ways of the Gospel of Peace and Love. We should never tell the sinner, that he is by nature under the bondage of the devil, the world, and the flesh, without acquainting him, that he has in him an High and Heavenly Nature, to which he would do well to attend, as to a Light shining in the midst of his darkness: When we point out the destructive consequences of sin, we should enlarge at the same time upon the delights of holiness, and the exalted privileges of those that follow it. Thus we should imitate the Apostle in my text, who, upon giving this advice to his Corinthian brethren, "Let no man glory in men," immediately adds this high and encouraging motive to their practice of it, "For all things are yours." DISCOURSE XII. The Riches and Glory of the Christian. 1 CORINTH. CHAP. iii. VER. 21, 22, 23. "THEREFORE LET NO MAN GLORY IN MEN: FOR ALL THINGS ARE YOURS; WHETHER PAUL, OR APOLLOS, OR CEPHAS, OR THE WORLD, OR LIFE, OR DEATH, OR THINGS PRESENT, OR THINGS TO COME; ALL ARE YOURS, AND YE ARE CHRIST'S, AND CHRIST IS GOD'S." My former discourse from these words contained a general view of the Apostle's reasoning in this chapter. I observed, that this part of his epistle was occasioned by some envyings and jealousies which had crept into the Corinthian church, in consequence of an undue distinction and preference which different persons had shewn to different Apostles and Preachers of the Gospel; and that, in order to silence these controversies, the Apostle, after a variety of other excellent arguments, concludes with enumerating the high and distinguishing Privileges, to which the Corinthians themselves were called, in common with those very teachers, whose excellencies they were so injudiciously magnifying. He tells them, that they ought not to "glory in men;" that is, to boast of the superior excellencies of this or that favourite Preacher, because "all things were theirs;" that by virtue of that Heavenly Nature, which they, as well as their teachers, inherited from JESUS CHRIST, the Second Adam, they were provided with a glorious inheritance, and invested with high powers and privileges, whereby this world, and every thing in it, was subject to their will, when in union and co-operation with the Eternal and Unchangeable Will of their REDEEMER: so that all personal distinctions among men, all personal admiration of their peculiar talents and most shining endowments, were beneath the character of such high-born souls, and ought not to come into competition with the Heavenly Graces of love, meekness, humility, mutual forbearance, condescension and peace, by which alone the dignity of their birth could be asserted, and the actual possession of their spiritual privileges known and ascertained. I endeavoured likewise to explain to you, the glorious and comfortable meaning and import of this general proposition of the Apostle, "All things are yours:" and shewed, by several similitudes and observations, that this was not only applicable to the Corinthians, and the most effectual motive that the Apostle could make use of, to disengage them from their narrow and carnal notions and jealousies, but that it is equally applicable to all men, at all times, and in all places and circumstances; and the most effectual method that a Minister of CHRIST can make use of, to awaken thoughtless sinners, and engage them to pursue the things that belong to their peace. Let me now, therefore, entreat your attention, whilst I enter upon the consideration of those particular Privileges, which are enumerated under this general head. As the immediate design of the Apostle, upon this occasion, was to put an end to that strife and division, which subsisted among them from the attachment of different persons to different preachers, so the first Privilege he mentions, is this, that in whatever light they might confider the matter, these Apostles and Preachers were nothing in themselves, but were furnished with peculiar talents and endowments for the service of their brethren: they were "theirs," because instruments in the hands of Heaven, to awaken their attention, and engage their pursuit of real spiritual knowledge and happiness; and they were only to be considered in this light, without any other personal respect and veneration, than that which their character, as instruments, might claim: for "all things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas." That this is a true and just representation of the Apostle's design, we may learn from his reasoning in the preceding part of the chapter. He charges them with acting under the immediate influence of earthly and carnal motives; and though he had adapted his preaching to their slender capacities, though he had fed them with milk, as being yet in the Rate of infants, and incapable of receiving or digesting the strong meat of the great and glorious mysteries of the Gospel, yet they did not profit even by this; for they had acquired no new spiritual strength from thence; nay, they not only remained in their infant state, unable to bear a further revelation of Gospel Truth, but gave themselves up again to the principles and dictates of corrupt nature. "Ye are yet carnal: for whereas there is among you envyings, and strife, and divisions, are ye not carnal, and walk as men?--For while one faith, I am of Paul, and another I am of Apollos, are ye not carnal? Who then is Paul, and who is Apollos, but ministers, by whom ye believed, even as the LORD gave to every man? I have planted, Apollos watered; but GOD gave the increase. So then neither he that planteth is any thing, neither he that watereth, but GOD who giveth the increase. Now he that planteth, and he that watereth, are one." As if he had said: I am truly sorry, O Corinthians! to find that such unexpected animosities have risen among you: they are too flagrant proofs of your deviation from that path of Gospel Truth and Love, into which you had but just entered. Certain, indeed, it is, that I have laboured among you with unceasing vigilance and care; and "by the Grace of GOD that was given me," have planted a Church of CHRIST in the midst of you. The glad tidings of the Gospel were sent from my lips to your awakened hearts: you were taught to see, and feel, and relinquish the vanity and corruption of your fallen life, and to look for and experience the birth and growth of an Heavenly Nature within you. To this Heavenly Nature, I administered much mild and gentle food and nourishment, as I knew was best suited to its tender opening state. In this situation I left you to the Grace of CHRIST, and the affectionate labours of those other Apostles and preachers; who seconded my ministry among you. The labours of Apollos and Cephas were as necessary to your growth in Grace, as mine: for as ye "are GOD'S husbandry, as ye are GOD'S building," so GOD hath bestowed different talents and endowments on those several labourers or workmen, whom he chooses to employ for the culture of his vineyard, and for the progress and completion of his great spiritual edifice. "We are all, therefore, labourers together with GOD:" We have all our different tasks allotted us by the great Husband-man and Master-builder, under whom we labour, and from whom alone we receive strength and wisdom to execute his will. My business was to plant, Apollos's to water; but what could it avail to plant or to water, unless GOD gave the increase? The Sun of Righteousness must shed his genial light and warmth, and the Divine Spirit must breathe its refreshing gales upon the tender plants, or they will wither and die. "He that planteth, and he that watereth, therefore, are one," united in the same blessed work. The culture, growth, and perfection of the plant, are equally the care and concern of both, though their business or employment in this work be different. Paul, and Apollos, and Cephas, are only "ministers, by whom ye believed, even as the LORD gave to every man," and prospered their several labours. Paul, and Apollos, and Cephas, are yours: they are equally concerned, and equally laborious, for your Growth in Grace, though their particular talents and exercises may be different. Away then with your vain and unchristian distinctions! for the planter, and the waterer, are equally necessary, and equally estimable. Consider them always in these characters; entertain an equal love and respect for them all; and beg of your Heavenly Father to give increase to their respective labours." I need not take up your time,--my brethren, in endeavouring to ascertain the peculiar and characteristical gifts of these several Apostles: this would neither augment, nor diminish the weight of the argument. Whatever these gifts were, they were not their own, but only intrusted to them by JESUS CHRIST, for accomplishing his own wise and salutary purposes towards the children of men. Some might be eminent for one kind of usefulness, and some for another. But it is probable, that those who possessed such talents, as most captivated the attention and affections of animal nature, were most followed; and this merely on account of the talents themselves, without any respect to those spiritual salutary truths, which, through them, were intended to be conveyed to the hearers. This conduct, however, is not peculiar to the Corinthians. The same evil carnal principle, that raised so many unchristian animosities in that infant church, has ever since been working in every part of Christendom. It is the fatal source of all that variety of sects, opinions, and doctrines, into which the outward church has been, and is still, sadly divided. But Truth is One--it has been so from the beginning, and will continue so for ever. The different sentiments and conceptions of mankind about Truth, can no more alter its nature, or make it cease to be what it is, than the looking through a variety of glasses of different colours, forms, and densities, can change the real colour, form, and proportion of objects. Every man admires and esteems his own glass most; and not content with this, quarrels with his neighbour, because he does not make use of it as well as himself. This is but too true a picture of the present state of Christianity--while its professors are disputing and differing about their own peculiar opinions and notions of Truth, which are no better than the glasses through which they contemplate it, they lose sight of the fair and beauteous object itself. The ministers of JESUS CHRIST ought to have but one end in view, and that is, the conversion of hearts to his Redeeming Love. Their talents for this great work may differ as much as their persons; but by this diversity of gifts, they are better enabled to do the different kinds of work that are necessary to be done in their master's vineyard. They should be careful, however, not to run before they are sent, not to intrude upon the labours of their brethren, but be content to be employed in a way suitable to their peculiar talents, and in the field which Heaven hath assigned them. He that planteth, should be sent out only to plant; he that watereth, to water; he that giveth milk, should continue to give it till he has something stronger to give, and his hearers are better able to receive it. At the same time, neither he that planteth, nor he that watereth, neither he that giveth milk, nor he that giveth strong meat, should interfere with, depreciate, or counter-act each other's peculiar work; but rather should faithfully and lovingly co-operate, each in the use of his particular gifts and experiences, to edify and perfect the body of CHRIST. Were ministers thus tender, charitable, affectionate, and helpful to each other; were they truly fellow-labourers in CHRIST; it is more than probable, that there would be less divisions and jealousies among the people. Much depends, under GOD, upon their prudence and-forbearance with respect to each other: and though such is the corruption and perverseness of human nature, that the closest union among themselves may not entirely prevent disputes among their hearers (as was the case at Corinth, though the Apostles did, no doubt, affectionately harmonize in all their labours) yet such an union would have a great tendency to heal or disperse them. But how dreadful must be the consequences, when any ambitious aspiring preachers do themselves raise and foment these divisions; when they limit the Mercies of JESUS, and call upon men to join and associate themselves to their particular sect or party; as if the streams of Spiritual Life had left every other channel which Providence had opened, and, by their direction, taken entirely to one of their own construction! If a preacher of this class happens to possess any popular talents, he is capable of abusing them to great mischief--to impose his own doctrines and opinions upon the ignorant multitude, by first captivating their passions, and then leading their judgments and consciences as he pleases. Many a soul has been awakened, indeed, under such preachers, but few have attained to any solid or substantial piety. Their minds have been kept in bondage to certain peculiarities of doctrine and practice, but their hearts and wills have never been surrendered to their true and only Master JESUS CHRIST. They have blindly followed the commandments of men, of their clamorous and enflamed leaders; but have neglected the weightier matters of Love, Peace, and Spiritual Union with CHRIST and all true Christians. Paul, Apollos, or Cephas, they are ready enough to magnify and extol: but the Master of Paul, Apollos, and Cephas, they too easily forget--their attention and affections are too much engaged by the instrument, to observe and adore the Hand by which it is, or ought to be, directed. To conclude this head: As the best of teachers, even the Apostles themselves, found it so difficult to controul the passions and prejudices of men, and disengage them from partial distinctions and preferences among their ministers; how careful should all ministers be, to inculcate the Apostolical doctrine contained in this chapter, upon their hearers! to caution them against depending upon, or glorying in man; against trusting to the piety, zeal, or elocution, of the most liberal teachers, and much more against giving up their consciences to those, whose views are partial and confined, and who publickly avow them to be such, by endeavouring to draw a deluded multitude into the narrow limits of their own misguided sect. How often should they remind their hearers, that they are no more than their servants, men of like passions with themselves, though selected by Divine Providence to convey the glad tidings of Salvation to their hearts: that they can, at most, but plant and water; nor even this, without the continuance of Divine assistance; but that it is to GOD alone they must look for the increase! O my brethren! let these truths sink deep into your hearts. Without a thorough conviction of them, all the preaching in the world will be of no service to you. You may hear a sermon every day, and every hour in the week, and be as far from CHRIST as ever, if you continue to depend upon preaching and preachers alone for your salvation. The utmost they can do, is to direct you to CHRIST. Regard them only when they give you this advice. Value them not for their natural or even spiritual endowments; you may be deceived in both. The surest and most profitable way you can take, is to consider them as mere planters and waterers; and to follow them, so far only as they follow CHRIST. DISCOURSE XIII. The Riches, Privileges, and Honours of the Christian. 1 COR. CHAP. iii. VER. 21, 22, 23. "THEREFORE LET NO MAN GLORY IN MEN: FOR ALL THINGS ARE YOURS; WHETHER PAUL, OR APOLLOS, OR CEPHAS, OR THE WORLD, OR LIFE, OR DEATH, OR THINGS PRESENT, OR THINGS TO COME; ALL ARE YOURS, AND YE ARE CHRIST'S, AND CHRIST IS GOD'S." The scope and design of the Blessed Apostle in this passage of his epistle, together with the true meaning and import of his general proposition, "All things are yours," hath been already explained in my first discourse from these words. In my second discourse, I entered upon the consideration of those particular privileges of the Christian, which are enumerated under this general head: And as the first of these privileges had a more immediate and striking reference to the great end he here had in view, which was to convince the Corinthians of the sin and folly of attaching themselves to particular and favourite preachers; I enlarged upon this head, and endeavoured to prove, that Paul, and Apollos, and Cephas, and all other ministers of the Gospel, were no more than the servants of their brethren; that they were "theirs" by a particular privilege, inasmuch as their office, their labours, talents, and several endowments, were entrusted to them for no other purpose, but that God, through them, might communicate "the unspeakable riches of his Grace" to the whole body of Christians. In this character, and in this alone, they were all equally entitled to their esteem and love, but not to any personal preference, or undue exaltation of one above another. Not content with this, however, the good Apostle, under the full inspiration of Divine Truth, and the glorious enlargement of Divine Love, breaks forth into a further declaration of those still higher privileges, to which the meanest member of the church of CHRIST is equally and in common entitled, with the greatest and most advanced believers: not only "Paul, and Apollos, and Cephas, are yours; but the world, and life and death, and things present, and things to come: all are yours, and ye are CHRIST'S, and CHRIST is GOD'S." "The world is yours!"--Is it so, thou Blessed Apostle? Alas! this strange assertion seems not to be confirmed, either by thine own experience, or the experience of thy fellow-labourers; or of any of those, who have since trod in the footsteps of thy Suffering Master. If bonds and imprisonments, if stripes and persecutions of various kinds, if cruel mockings and insults, if outward and inward tribulations might be admitted as proofs of their having the world in their power, these, alas, will not be found wanting. Sad privilege, indeed! Wretched consolation! to be told that misery is our portion, and that distress and affliction are the Christian's birth-right!--Let us, however, endeavour to solve this seeming paradox, and reconcile the Apostle's declaration with the common experience of Christians. Whence was it, O Christian! (for I now appeal to the real sensibilities of every believing soul that has tasted of the Good Word of GOD) whence was it, that thou hast acquired that power and dominion over the world, by which thou canst sustain its adversity and prosperity, its evil and its good, with equal calmness, fortitude, and complacency--for this is that power and dominion, by which alone the world becomes thine! Was it not by those very sufferings, which seem so diametrically opposite to this triumphant state? Thy victory rose from thy defeat; thy consolation, from the depth of thy distress; thy conquest of the world, from its conquest of thee.--Yea, the world furnished thee with arms against itself. Every new affliction gave thee some new acquisition; every sigh, every tear, vanquished some mortal foe. Bonds and imprisonments, scourging and insults, hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, war, pestilence, and shipwreck, and all the dire vicissitudes which the world can bring upon us, serve no other purpose than to subdue the pride, envy, covetousness, and wrath of our fallen life; to open the eyes of our inward man, and teach us to look upon this world in its proper light, to fly its visionary pleasures, and support with patience its substantial miseries. To suffer, therefore, is to triumph; to be distressed, is our glorious privilege; to "be weary and heavy-laden," is the only way to rest and happiness! Sure I am, that there are many here, who can bear witness to this great and awful truth; who can say with the Psalmist, "It is good for me that I have been afflicted." My God hath manifested his love in all my sufferings. I should never have come to the knowledge of his Truth; I should never have experienced the Light of his Grace; I should never have overcome the world, abandoned its delusive prospects, and gained a sure and everlasting inheritance; had not my GOD made this very world to frown upon me, had he not beset me with its troubles behind and before, and by making me deeply sensible of its evil, taught me to despise even its good. Thus, and thus alone, "the world is the Christian's," because he knows, that every thing in it, under the administration of his BLESSED REDEEMER, is made subservient to his real happiness, which he is convinced is more effectually promoted by its storms than by its calms, by its frowns than by its smiles. And if "the world" is thus his, by particular privilege, consequently "the Life" which he lives in it must be so too. The vicissitudes of life arise from the natural instability of worldly enjoyments: but even this instability the believer knows to be under the immediate Guidance of ALMIGHTY LOVE. The real enjoyment of life depends upon the temper and disposition of mind, with which its vicissitudes are received. The Christian, therefore, who knows, that "not an hair of his head can fall to the ground without his Heavenly Father," and whose will is secretly resigned to his Father's, meekly and patiently, daily and hourly giving himself up to his sovereign disposal, he alone can be said to have a true enjoyment of life.--In sickness and in health, in prosperity and in adversity, he alike beholds the hand of his REDEEMER opening to him, by these various dispensations, the way to never-ending rest; unfolding his misery by nature, and his happiness by Grace, and rendering every change of outward life instrumental to some blessed change in the life of his inward and spiritual man. But he has not only the highest enjoyment of this "world," and of "life" in this world, but what is a still more surprising and more glorious privilege, "death too is his." Not, indeed, in the sense in which it belongs to the wicked and unregenerate, to whom it is solely the consequence of guilt, and the dreadful introduction to misery extreme. No--to the real Christian, it is the consequence of a new life, the completion of happiness, the deliverer from woe, the gate that opens into Paradise, the messenger of REDEEMING LOVE. Death, therefore, is the believer's, because, by the strength of his REDEEMER, he hath been enabled to make him, who was once his enemy, become his reconciled friend.--The King of Terrors hath dropped his envenomed sting; and his dart flies now for no other use, but a kind and friendly one, even to dislodge the heavenly inhabitant from its frail tabernacle of clay, and open the world of light upon its spiritual senses. But still higher privileges, still higher prospects, open to the Apostle's view. "Things present, and things to come, are yours."--Whatever the present moment brings to light, as well as what is concealed in the womb of futurity, is equally in the Christian's power. He is prepared to receive the former with thankfulness and gratitude, because he knows, that it must operate for his good, be it painful or pleasant: and from the same conviction of the kind and loving Administration of his REDEEMER, he, can wait with patience and resignation for the future dispensations of his Providence. I cannot, however, but think, that these words have a much deeper and more comfortable sense than this. "Things present, and things to come," generally denote, in Scripture, the visible and the invisible world; and though they are equally present, yet, with respect to our common apprehensions, the latter must be called future, because it cannot be unveiled to our senses, till we have laid aside these garments of sin. The believer, however, by virtue of his Heavenly Nature, united by Faith to his REDEEMER, stands in the heavenly world at the same time that he is in this. Its light, and life, and air, its powers, and virtues, and glories, are opening themselves, though invisibly, in his heart. Hence it is, that the Apostle speaks of "tasting the powers of the world to come," even in this present state and that not metaphorically, but as really and physically as our outward bodies may be said to taste the powers of this present world. O, what an high and glorious privilege does this appear, when considered in this point of light! An Heavenly Man within us, standing upon heavenly ground, breathing the heavenly air, and rising, by its animating influences, far above that sink of evil and corruption, in which the earthly nature still remains a prisoner; and with heavenly fortitude and resignation, supporting the painful union, till his true parent and deliverer rescues him from his captivity, and admits him into the liberty of kindred spirits in glory. Well, therefore, might the Apostle, at the close of this enumeration, again repeat his general assertion, "All things are yours."--But he repeats it, not only with a view of impressing the truth more powerfully upon the hearts of Christians, but also to let them know, that their privileges are in the most effectual manner secured to them; that their title is indisputable, their inheritance unfading and eternal--"And ye are CHRIST'S," says he. Think not, that your title to this inheritance is founded upon any thing in yourselves, considered separately and distinctly in your own natures; no, "Ye are by nature dead in trespasses and sins--The wages of sin is death." No other inheritance, but destruction and misery, can you derive from your fallen nature. This inheritance, therefore, which is "Eternal Life," is solely the gift of GOD, through JESUS CHRIST. "Ye are CHRIST'S," therefore, not only as being originally created by him in his own image, which image ye lost by sin; but ye are now his by REDEMPTION, which is in truth a second creation; for he hath planted his own seed in your fallen nature. By this, he is become your Father, your Spiritual Regenerator, your Creator anew in Righteousness and true Holiness.--Thus, by turning your will to this SAVIOUR, the heavenly seed springs forth, under his mild and genial influence, into a beautiful plant, partaking of all the virtues, powers, odours, and colours of its Eternal Parent, uniting, rejoicing, and living for ever in the same Heavenly Glory. Nay, that your faith, and hope, and love, may rest upon an eternal ground, and that your title may appear to you still more firm, and your inheritance still more certain and glorious; I must tell you, that as "Ye are CHRIST'S, so CHRIST is GOD'S."--Here rests the glorious climax, rising by a fair and beautiful gradation, till its last step is fixed to the throne of the Highest! The essential powers virtues and excellencies of the Invisible and Supernatural GOD, manifest themselves in his eternal and only-begotten Son JESUS CHRIST, GOD of GOD, GOD-MAN, uniting himself to human nature, redeeming, glorifying, and exalting it, with himself, to the throne of the Eternal Father; from thence they are communicated, in copious streams of light and love, to the whole race whom he has condescended to redeem; awakening, illuminating, sanctifying, restoring, and investing them with the same kind of powers and excellencies, which he possesses himself in an infinite degree, and thus accomplishing what he before had prayed to his Heavenly Father might be accomplished--"That they all may be one, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee; that they also may be one in us--that they may be ONE, even as we are ONE--I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in ONE." Thus you have seen, my brethren, the nature, extent, and excellency of the great Christian privileges here enumerated, together with the eternal and immoveable foundation on which they are built. Need I, therefore, now call upon you to put in your claim to this vast inheritance? Alas! I fear there is too much occasion for the most solemn calls.--So various are the pursuits of the sons of men, and so foreign to their real happiness; so mistaken are they in their conceptions of good, so blind to real evil, so easily deluded by specious appearances, and led astray by so many false lights; so prone to obey the dictates of a corrupt nature, and so averse to every thing that is spiritual and heavenly; that the weightiest Truths of the Gospel, the most animating promises, the most glorious privileges there recounted, seem to have but very little influence upon their hearts. O why, my brethren, why will ye "spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labour for that which satisfieth not?" why, with deluded Esau, "will you sell your birth-right for a mess of pottage," an heavenly for an earthly inheritance? When "all things are yours," why will you take up with the scanty provisions which a poor perishing nature can give? An immortal soul, redeemed by the blood of the Son of GOD, spending its strength, exerting its faculties in the pursuit of such fleeting momentary enjoyments as this world can afford, is a spectacle at which Angels might weep.--O that every thoughtless sinner might be induced to weep for himself, to mourn his wretched, forlorn condition; and, from a deep conviction of the insufficiency of all earthly possessions to make him happy, that he might be led to seek that "peace of GOD which passeth all understanding! that inheritance immortal, incorruptible, and undefiled, which fadeth not away!" DISCOURSE XIV. Christ, known or unknown, the Universal Saviour. St. JOHN, CHAP. xiv. Part of VER. 9. "HAVE I BEEN SO LONG TIME WITH YOU, AND YET HAST THOU NOT KNOWN ME, PHILIP?" "Except ye see signs and wonders ye will not believe," said our BLESSED LORD to those earthly-minded Israelites, who were ever looking for some external display of supernatural power, as the only means of conviction in matters of religion. This fatal mistake hath prevailed too much in the world; and still maintains its ground, even among those, whose views are more spiritual, and who have been taught to look upon religion as an internal operation, the work of GOD'S SPIRIT upon their souls. They do not, indeed, seek for an outward sign, as the Jews of old did; they see the impropriety of this under a spiritual dispensation: their delusion, however, though perhaps more refined, is equally dangerous. They cannot conceive that the Divine Power and Presence can be manifested to the human soul, in any other way; than by extraordinary impressions, visions, or extasies. Thus, whilst they are looking out for the appearance of their GOD in a whirl-wind, a fire, or an earthquake, their attention is wholly withdrawn from that "Still Small Voice," in which he usually addresses himself to the hearts of his creatures. Such was the sad delusion under which poor Philip seems to have laboured. "Lord, shew us the Father, said he, and it sufficeth us." Give us some visible sign, some sensible demonstration of the Father's power and presence with thee. Let him rend the heavens and come down; and if thou art indeed his Son, let him own and honour thee as such, by placing himself near to thy sacred person, and breaking forth in a flood of glory upon our outward senses. Poor mistaken disciple! Little didst thou think of the dreadful consequences which might have attended the granting of thy request. It might have over-whelmed thy weak nature, but could never have wrought any salutary conviction in thy soul: thy outward senses could not have sustained the shock, and thy mind would have continued as dark as ever, notwithstanding the heavenly effulgence that surrounded thee. Ignorant, weak, and deluded, as Philip seems to have been, his BLESSED MASTER bore with his infirmities, and answered him with all that sweetness and gentleness, that usually accompanied even his censures and reproofs--"Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip? He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father. How sayest thou then, shew us the Father?" Not one of all those excellencies and perfections, which constitute the Divine Nature, but thou mightest have beheld manifested in me. The healing of the sick, the raising of the dead, making the deaf to hear, the blind to see, and the dumb to speak, instructing the ignorant, and preaching the gospel to the poor, all these are the surest marks and evidences that can possibly be given of the immediate presence of the Divinity within me. He, therefore, who hath seen me thus manifesting the Power, Wisdom, and Goodness of my Heavenly Father, in these works of wonder, tenderness, and love to his children, "hath seen the Father;" inasmuch, as in the present state of things, there is no other way in which GOD can manifest himself to you his fallen creatures, but by awakening your attention to every act and sensibility of goodness, which you may discover either in yourselves or others. And as all these divine communications are imparted from the Father through me; so in my miracles life and conversation, had you yielded a proper attention, you might have seen "the Brightness of the Father's Glory, and the Express Image of his Person." "Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?" From this particular conversation of our LORD with his disciple, as well as from the whole tenor of the Gospel, arises this grand and fundamental truth: that our real knowledge of CHRIST depends upon an attention of the mind to those Tempers, Qualities, Dispositions and Actions, which he manifested in his life here upon earth, and which are recorded in Scripture for our instruction, accompanied with a surrender of our will and affections to those inward calls, motions, and sensibilities of Goodness, by which he reveals himself with all his heavenly tempers in our hearts. CHRIST, therefore, makes himself known to us in these two principal ways, in his Word, and in our Hearts. His Word, or what is known by the name of the Holy Scripture, is only the outward testimony--the rule or standard providentially transmitted to us, by which we are to judge of the reality of his Presence in our Hearts. It tells us of a CHRIST, who lived, and suffered, and died in our human nature, in order to teach us how to live, and suffer, and die. It assures us, that our everlasting salvation depends upon our knowledge of this CHRIST; that this knowledge can only be attained by seeking him earnestly; that the place where he chuses to be found, where he loves to reside, is in the human heart;" that "his kingdom is within us;" that he is "the light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world;" that he is the "hope of glory," in every son and daughter of fallen Adam. The Scriptures likewise testify of the manner of his appearance and residence within us--that he manifests himself as a destroyer of that evil work, which the Devil has wrought in our nature; first convincing us of sin, of the darkness and misery of our fallen life, and then pointing out to us the paths of righteousness; opening and unfolding all those sweet and lovely qualities, of which himself is the great Fountain Spirit, and which he distributes to every man according to his capacity and desire of receiving them. To know CHRIST, therefore, is carefully to cultivate those holy and heavenly tempers and dispositions, which he manifested in his outward life here upon earth, and which he now continues to manifest in the breasts of all those who diligently seek after him. To know CHRIST, is to know and feel the power of "love, joy; peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." Wherever these Graces take up their residence, there is the Temple of JESUS. These are the ministring servants that wait at his altar: and the sacrifices which they there present and offer, are all the earthly and diabolical passions with which human nature is polluted and oppressed,--pride, envy, covetousness, jealousy, lust, wrath, bitterness of spirit, and all the rest of the infernal legion. Love, Love Divine, is the vestal fire which there burns pure and perpetual; which cleanses, refines, sublimates, and glorifies every thing that comes within its reach. In this sense, CHRIST has been a long time, indeed, among the sons of men, though they may not have known him: He has been long "come to his own," though his own have not universally received him. Where is the man, who hath not, in innumerable instances, felt the powerful suggestions of vice; and, in innumerable instances, been inwardly warned against them, and pressed to the exercise of virtue? Speak, thou unthinking, careless mortal! Hast thou never felt thyself swoln with pride, or burning with envy? Hast thou never coveted, been jealous, angry, revengeful, bitter, and implacable? Hast thou never found thyself bound to this world, by such strong and numerous ties, that the parting from it would be like tearing away thy very heart-strings? Amidst all that storm and confusion, into which this restless croud of evil passions has frequently thrown thee, hast thou never once felt a monitor within, that would have let thee know, if thou hadst attended to his voice, that all this uproar was from an evil principle, and that thou wert injuring thy soul by submitting to its power? Hast thou never been led to admire and revere the amiable graces of Meekness, Humility, Love, and Peace, in the life of thy neighbour; and secretly to wish, that these plants of Heaven would spring up in thy own barren soil? Hast thou not frequently envied the happy frame and circumstances of some, whom thou hast seen devout and pious in their conduct towards GOD, and affectionate, mild, and gentle, in their behaviour towards their brethren? And hast thou not, in such a situation, been constrained to sigh out some such wish as this: O that I could feel, and live, and act, as these men seem to do! Would to GOD that this evil nature of mine, with all its horrid lusts and passions, was wholly subdued, eradicated, or changed! Let me tell thee, then, poor mortal! that all these senses, sensibilities, and secret desires, are from CHRIST, and that this is the way he takes to invite thee to his friendship and communion. He is in thine heart, waiting there with all the condescension, tenderness, and compassion of a most indulgent father, to deliver thee from thy sins, and shew himself to thy soul in reconciliation and peace. He hath been waiting there ever since thou wert born, seeking to make himself known to thee, sometimes by the frowns of conscience, sometimes by its approving smiles, sometimes by the endearing intercourse of Christian friendship and love, and sometimes by the sweet emotions of his own Charity, kindled within thee, at the sight of an object in distress; sometimes by providential deliverances from imminent dangers, sometimes by providential visits of health and prosperity. Whence is it then, O sinner, that, though thy SAVIOUR hath been so long time "with thee, yet hast thou not known him?" Whence is it, though he has made thee such frequent offers of his Love, thou hast still slighted or rejected them? Various are the obstacles and impediments which prevent us from coming to a true and saving knowledge of CHRIST. In some persons, the unrestrained sovereignty and dominion of fallen nature, leads them captive at its will, makes them deaf to the voice of conscience, and blind to every ray of light that seeks to illuminate the dark region of their heart. They know not CHRIST, because they have not the least desire to be acquainted with him. In others, the grand and principal impediment to the knowledge of CHRIST, is their absolute dependence upon an external decency of conduct, to which they have given the name of morality. If they cultivate those seeming virtues, which are the faint images or shadows of the True Graces of the Gospel, it is solely from a selfish principle, a desire of being noticed and respected by the world: they have no view, in any thing they undertake, to that real inward change of heart and temper, in which alone the Knowledge of CHRIST consists. Such persons, being unacquainted with the intrinsic evil and corruption of their own nature, cannot have the least desire to be delivered from it; and, till they are providentially awakened to a sense of this, they cannot find themselves disposed to enquire after a Saviour, in and through whom alone these evils and corruptions are to be healed or removed. Others again there are, who are kept from this saving knowledge of CHRIST, by an attachment to external forms, modes, and opinions of religion; who, provided they are found faithful in the observance and belief of these, excuse themselves from the cultivation of those inward and heavenly graces and virtues, which alone constitute the life and power of religion. Such persons frequently fall into the grossest inconsistencies. They can be angry, in the defence of meekness; proud, whilst they are discoursing on humility; and can speak of all the sublime truths of religion, and sometimes of its vital influences on the heart, with the utmost elegance and pathos of sentiment and expression, and yet remain totally insensible of their efficacy respecting themselves. Such persons know not CHRIST, because they do not seek him in the only way in which he can be found, viz. in a conformity to his Heavenly Character. The last impediment which I shall mention, that excludes many serious minds from the knowledge of CHRIST'S personal power and presence with them, is that under which poor Philip laboured; even an expectation of some unusual display of supernatural agency, to produce their conviction and conversion.--He, indeed, looked for an external sign; they are anxious for something internal and spiritual; but the nature of the desire is the same in both, and is equally delusive and dangerous. Such persons, solicitous for nothing but an assurance of the forgiveness of GOD, expect to have it communicated by some vision, ecstasy, or sudden illumination. Far be it from me to call in question the reality of such manifestations, which good men in all ages have experienced. But at the same time I must confess, that I cannot look upon them as essential to Salvation. CHRIST JESUS reveals himself to sinners in various methods, and by various means: but the end of all these means and methods is the same, even to produce his own Image of Righteousness and true Holiness in their hearts. Let us hear his own blessed words: "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest"--Ye that labour under the evils of fallen life, seduced by its temptations, enslaved by its passions, and heavy-laden with its accumulated guilt and woe, come to me, deeply sensible of your deplorable condition, and earnestly desiring deliverance, and I will give you rest! From the same Oracle of Truth, we learn too, wherein this rest, deliverance, or forgiveness must consist--"Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest to your souls." Meekness and lowliness of heart, therefore, is the true rest which CHRIST gives; for, wherever these are, there is Faith, there is Hope, there is Heaven-born Charity. Tell me, ye favoured souls! who have been "called out of darkness into the marvellous light of GOD;" who have experienced his "Peace, that passeth all understanding;" who have received the sweetest tokens of his Forgiving Grace; tell me, wherein did this marvellous Light, this Peace, this token of Forgiving Grace consist? what kind of sensibility was awakened in you at that happy season?--Was it not a sensibility of Love intense, and Meekness unutterable? a Love, that would have clasped universal nature in its charitable embrace; a Meekness, that would have forgiven the grossest injuries and insults, and condescended to the meanest offices of tenderness and kindness to your brethren? This, then, is the Knowledge of JESUS CHRIST: in this Gentle Element he delights to move! Let but your souls be attempered to these Divine Sensations, and CHRIST is yours! Seek not for any sudden and extraordinary impulses or ecstasies, but "learn to be meek and lowly in heart!" Ask for Divine Grace to subdue your corrupt and boisterous passions!--Be weary of, and groan under, the burden of your evil nature!--Fly from pride, envy, covetousness, and wrath; and cherish the opposite tempers of meekness, humility, resignation, and love!--Wander not after an imaginary forgiveness: but know assuredly, that there is no other way, in which the All-atoning Blood of the HOLY JESUS can be applied for the pardon of sin, but by inwardly cleansing, redeeming, and purifying your corrupt natures, from every bestial as well as diabolical impurity. It is in this process alone, that you can know, and be known by your SAVIOUR: and unless you enter upon this, and seek in good earnest to be intimately acquainted with him, thus revealing himself in your hearts; he will one day have good reason to say to you, as he did to his disciple in the text, "Have I been so long time with you, and yet have you not known me?" DISCOURSE XV. Human Life a Pilgrimage. PSALM xxxix. Part of VER. 12. "FOR I AM A STRANGER WITH THEE, AND A SOJOURNER, AS ALL MY FATHERS WERE." In every age of the world, and among people of every nation and language under heaven, (if we may credit the testimony of history and experience) there have been found many virtuous, thoughtful, and enquiring minds; who, from an attentive observation of the moral as well as physical disorders incident to the present system of things, from a personal experience of the unavoidable miseries consequent thereupon, and from a secret irresistible desire and longing after some superior but unknown state of being, have been led to form these most philosophical and pious conclusions: That their present mode of existence could not possibly be as that for which they were originally intended by a being of Infinite Wisdom, Goodness, and Love; that the intelligent and immortal spirit within them, could not have been created merely to animate a dark terrestrial body, and to be subject to the clamorous demands of animal nature; that the fair signatures of beauty, order, and love, which they still saw, and felt, and admired, within and without them, could not have been originally impressed by the Divine Fiat upon that mixture of darkness, deformity and confusion, in which they now appear; that the primeval harmony and lustre of the creation must, by some means or other, have been marred and spoiled; and that, for these reasons, they could not but consider themselves as the fallen inhabitants of a fallen world. That these strange disorders must have proceeded solely from the depravity of some created intelligences, they concluded, not only from their own conceptions of the spotless purity and goodness of the Divine Nature, but from their own observation and experience of the innumerable evils that were produced in themselves and others, when ever their wills and affections deviated from the strait paths of virtue, and wandered in the mazes of vice. And yet they saw--and yet they felt--that so numerous and powerful were the temptations and suggestions on the side of vice, that nought but the kind interposition of their good and powerful CREATOR, nought but the super-natural illumination and direction of his BLESSED SPIRIT, could rescue them from the dominion of their passions, open their understanding to the sight of TRUTH, and incline their will to the pursuit and practice of GOODNESS. This affectionate intercourse with their CREATOR, they considered as the only source of their virtue and happiness in this life, as the only earnest of their future and final felicity in the next. Hence they regarded themselves as strangers and exiles in a foreign land, and looked upon death as the season of their deliverance, of their return to their native country, and re-union with their Father and kindred spirits in glory. Many traces of this sublime philosophy do we meet with in the lives and writings of the virtuous heathen. For, however they may differ from us in their modes of conception and expression, a discerning mind will soon discover, that their feelings were congenial with our own; and that they wanted but the aids of external revelation to enable them to "speak what they knew, and testify what they saw," in the same language which we are instructed to use. The Sacred Writings, however, afford us the noblest and most indubitable testimonies to the great truths mentioned above. For whatsoever scattered rays of knowledge or of goodness are found here and there gleaming through the shades of paganism;--whatsoever the thrice-great Hermes delivered as oracles from his sacred tripos;--whatsoever Pythagoras, Socrates, Epictetus, Zoroaster, or Confucius, have laboured to inculcate upon the hearts of their disciples--all this, and infinitely more, without any corrupt or superstitious mixture, do we find expressly revealed, with all the marks of Divine Authority, in the Holy Scriptures--all this, and infinitely more, do we find beautifully exemplified in those lives and sayings of patriarchs, prophets, and apostles, which are recorded for our instruction and imitation in the Old Testament as well as in the New. These venerable teachers and patterns of Truth and Virtue, do all, with one voice, express their deep sensibility of the evils and miseries of their present state of existence, and their ardent aspirations after another and a better state. They all, with one voice, acknowledge the vanity and insufficiency of every sublunary enjoyment, and the indispensable necessity of "setting the affections on things above, not on things on the earth." They all, with one voice, pronounce their state in this world to be that of strangers and exiles; and consider their temporary pilgrimage here, as only intended to purify and prepare them for a state of eternal peace and happiness hereafter. In a word, they all, with one voice, declare, that there is no other method, by which they can be redeemed from the evils of their present life, and qualified for the blessings of a future, but by a perpetual communion with the great FATHER OF THEIR SPIRITS, kept up on his part by kind and liberal effusions of his own essential goodness; and on theirs, by an affectionate and ardent inclination of their wills and desires towards him, and a grateful reception, and faithful improvement of his loving communications. Under the Old Testament, this blessed intercourse was understood and felt by patriarchs and prophets, through the outward means of sacrifices, types, and various ceremonies and ordinances; all predictive and expressive of a certain Redeeming Process, which, "in the fulness of time," was to be accomplished for human nature, in the person of a suffering and triumphant MESSIAH. Under the New Testament, it broke forth, with meridian lustre, in the incarnation and nativity, life and conversation, sufferings, death, resurrection and ascension of the BLESSED JESUS; in whose sacred person the divine and human natures were most happily united, to the end, that as the SON OF MAN and the SON OF GOD, he might communicate to every Son of Man, that should receive his testimony, and believe in his Name, the power of becoming a SON OF GOD, John i. 12. His life and conversation upon earth must, therefore, be the true and only standard, by which ours is to be regulated. As he lived, so should we live also; and consider this world in the same point of view, and treat it in the same manner, that he did. So far, indeed, as the worthies of the Old Testament have lived or spoken according to the spirit of his Gospel, so far, without doubt, we are bound to follow their example: and a very little acquaintance with Scripture will be sufficient to inform us, that "they did all eat of the same spiritual meat, and did all drink of the same spiritual drink," and had all entered upon the same Redeeming Process, with those, who have since lived under the Light of the Gospel, and have known and found this meat and drink to be no other than those spiritual emanations of Truth and Love, which we all receive, or may receive, from CHRIST OUR COMMON SAVIOUR. When David, therefore, confessed, that he was "a stranger and a sojourner with GOD, as all his fathers were," what was this, but an express declaration, that, though he was encircled with a diadem, and clad in the robes of royalty; though he had his residence in the metropolis of Judea, and exercised an absolute sovereignty over the whole realm; he considered himself, nevertheless, as a stranger in a strange land, far distant from his native country, surrounded by a multitude of enemies, who were perpetually upon the watch to take advantage of any little mistake he might commit, perpetually in arms against him, and determined, if they possibly could, to rob him at once of his kingdom and his peace? What was it, but an humble acknowledgment of his own spiritually helpless and indigent condition? and at the same time an affectionate intimation of his secret hope, that, as his forefathers had been in the same circumstances he was now in, and had experienced the kind interposition of Heaven for their relief and comfort, GOD would be graciously pleased to continue to him the same loving-kindness, accompany support and protect him through his painful sojourn, and conduct him safe to those blessed abodes, which he had prepared for the reception of every true spiritual Israelite? "For I am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers were." Upon this view of things, and under the influence of these principles, he composed the pathetic psalm, from whence my text is taken; which exhibits to us a lively representation of the vanity and shortness of human life, the difficulties that attend our pilgrimage through this world, the prudence and circumspection which the pilgrim must observe, the enemies he must expect to encounter on the way, and the confidence he must repose in the strength of a superior and Almighty arm, in order to secure to himself Success and Victory. The truth of this representation we find abundantly confirmed by the whole tenor of Scripture. The grand apostate seraph is there called "the prince of this world, the prince of the power of the air;" from which, and other expressions of the like import, we may justly conclude, that he was once in possession of this very system which we inhabit--it was the sphere of glory, in which he moved, whilst his lustre yet remained unfaded. Envious, jealous of its new inhabitants, he is perpetually "walking about, seeking whom he may devour." He avails himself of that earthly nature which we inherit from our fallen ancestor, insinuates himself through its foul channels into our inmost hearts, seduces us from the paths of innocence and virtue, and, unless timely rescued by a Superior Power, will hurry us headlong into the depths of his own dark and fiery kingdom. On the other hand, the GOD of LIGHT and LOVE, who reigns supreme in his own KINGDOM of LIGHT and LOVE, is most affectionately anxious for our preservation. For this gracious purpose, he causes his light to shine forth in the midst of our darkness; discovers to us the secret hostile intentions of our malicious enemy; calls upon us to fly from his infernal wiles; and invites us to walk with himself in his own delightful element, with sweet assurances of peace and consolation here, and glory, honour, and immortality hereafter. Ill fares the man, whose mistaken heart too easily opens to the false friendship of his flattering foe--he walks upon enchanted ground--there is no reality in the surrounding scene--every object is visionary--the flowers have no real fragrance, the fruits no real flavour or nourishment.--He plucks and eats, but still remains unsatisfied--he plucks and eats again--he discovers the delusion, and yet the delusion pleases him.--The wily enchanter leads him at one time into the gardens of pleasure--at another, conducts him to the pompous edifice of ambition--at another, opens upon his ravished sight the splendid treasures, which Mammon offers to his foolish votaries.--With this pretended friend and guardian he walks the tiresome round, pleased and transported with every new prospect, but loathing the objects as soon as possessed. In the mean while, the calls of a superior nature are totally disregarded, and the soul is suffered to famish within the pampered body. Not so the wise and virtuous candidate for sublimer joys. His breast is no sooner penetrated by a ray of that Universal Light, "which lighteth every man that cometh into the world," than it opens, with chearfulness and gratitude, to receive more and more of the salutary effulgence. He finds within himself a source of sensibilities, which correspond to a world of objects far more real and sublime, than aught that meets his outward senses in this shadowy scene. He finds, he feels the presence of a true friend and guardian, whose unlimited power can controul the open or secret attacks of his false friend and seducer; whose wisdom can furnish him with every kind of knowledge that is necessary to his real felicity; and whose ineffable love is perpetually feeding and refreshing the angel that is within him, with such fruits and flowers as are of celestial growth, and suited to its celestial frame. With this GUARDIAN GOD, he walks the wilds of nature, unappalled, regardless alike of the smiles and frowns of his spiritual adversaries. He considers himself as a stranger and sojourner in this vale of misery; and under the conduct of Unerring Wisdom, and Almighty Love, pursues his painful pleasing journey to a better country, even an heavenly one. But this is not all. Care, prudence, circumspection, and confidence in GOD, are not only indispensably necessary to secure to us a safe and happy pilgrimage through life; but they are likewise the best, the only preparatives for an happy and comfortable death. As strangers and sojourners, we ought to live under a constant expectation of being called home to our native country. This expectation will be either pleasing or painful, according as we are more or less prepared for the awful summons. The summons we cannot dispense with: the time in which it may be pronounced, is altogether uncertain. Some of us, within a very few years, and some, perhaps, within a very few days, may behold the curtain drop, and shut out every scene of temporal nature from our view. With respect to us, "the heavens and the earth will then pass away with a mighty noise; the sun will be darkened, and the moon turned into blood; the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of heaven will be shaken." Death, judgment, heaven, or hell, will then be realized to our disembodied spirits. "He that is holy will be holy still, and he that is filthy will be filthy still." The dissolution of this outward body will close the season of Divine Grace; the hopes or the fears, the happiness or the misery of man will be determined by his expiring breath; and his GOD will be manifested to him, either in the mild majesty of his Love, or in the consuming fire of his Wrath. What adds to the solemnity of this dread moment, is the frequent suddenness of its approach. The king of terrors often knocks at the door, when the master of the house is by no means prepared for the awful visit. Nay, he frequently passes by the habitations of age, infirmity, and distress, and thunders forth his tremendous summons in the ears of the young, the gay, and the robust. Neither superior fortune, nor superior station, can protract the fleeting date of life. The monarch tumbles from his throne; and, after the momentary honours of a pompous funeral, makes his bed in the dust, and lies there as poor and undistinguished as the late tenant of the homely cottage. Even piety and virtue cannot screen their votaries from death's unerring shaft; but he is sometimes permitted to snatch away the most amiable patterns of both, in order to awaken the attention, or chastise the carelessness, of their friends and neighbours. Happy would it be for mankind, if these frequent indiscriminate strokes did but produce a more general and serious attention to "the things that belong to their peace:" and happy for you, my dear brethren, if the solemn truths that have now been delivered, are permitted to have a due weight and influence on your lives and practice! Examine yourselves, then, by these principles. Look well into the present state of your souls. Be these important reflections continually present to your minds--that you are but "strangers and sojourners upon earth;" that every object, that attracts and engages your desires and affections here, must very shortly be removed from you for ever; that it is folly and madness to take up your rest in such poor perishable things, as the present world affords, inasmuch as death must soon put an end to their shadowy forms, and translate you to a world, where all is real--all is eternal. Do not deceive yourselves. A gay and thoughtless life is no suitable preparation for death. The heart must be gradually estranged from the vanities of time, before it can turn its desires towards the riches of eternity. You have heard of the difficulties you may expect to meet with, of the enemies you will have to encounter, on your way to heaven. Up then, and be doing. No time is to be lost. Every moment is precious: "it carries Heaven on its wing." The victory is secure, if you will but arm yourselves for the conflict. Your Heavenly FATHER is perpetually drawing and inviting you to enter the lists, and contend for the prize. His Eternal SON hath promised to be with you, and in you. And the blessed SPIRIT, proceeding from both, will inspire you with all that celestial strength and ardour, which alone can render you "more than conquerors." Thus are you furnished, from the armoury of heaven, with a divine panoply, which, upon trial, you will find impenetrable to "all the fiery darts of the wicked." "Fear not, then, thou worm, Jacob! Be not dismayed, for thy God is with thee!" Blessed encouragement, this! What though you are strangers and sojourners upon earth, yet remember for your consolation, that you are strangers and sojourners with GOD--"For I am a stranger and sojourner WITH THEE." O MY brethren! what ineffable peace and satisfaction would spring up in your hearts, could you once realize to yourselves, could you once feel, the perpetual presence of an OMNIPOTENT GOD, travelling with you on the journey of life, supplying all your wants, supporting you under all your difficulties and distresses, and, with the affectionate fondness of a father, minutely entering into all your real interests and concerns! To know, that you are his offspring, fallen indeed, but redeemed by his BLESSED SON: that his love for you is so ardent, that "whoso toucheth you his children, toucheth the apple of his eye; that in all your afflictions he is afflicted, and that the angel of his presence saves and delivers you; that he will never leave you comfortless, but will be with you always, even to the end of the world!" These are such sweet and delightful assurances, as you could never have collected from the vain reasonings of worldly philosophy, or the vain confidence, which many pretend to derive from mere unassisted human virtue. Upon this ground you may rest secure; and, in the strength of an Almighty arm, bid defiance to the open assaults, or secret stratagems of the enemies of your peace. Whilst the SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS continues to impart his chearing beams, and fountains of living water spring up on every side to refresh the weary pilgrim, you may pursue your journey through the VALLEY OF BACA, with peace and confidence; you may "lift up your heads with joy, as the Ransomed of the LORD;" and "proceed from strength to strength, till you appear before the GOD OF GODS in SION." DISCOURSE XVI. The true Knowledge of God internal and practical. JOB, CHAP. xlii. VER. 5, 6. "I HAVE HEARD OF THEE BY THE HEARING OF THE EAR; BUT NOW HATH MINE EYE SEEN THEE: THEREFORE I ABHOR MYSELF, AND REPENT IN DUST AND ASHES." We can scarcely open any part of the Scriptures, but we meet with the following great and leading truths of Religion: viz. that the LOVE OF GOD is universal; that his "GRACE, which bringeth Salvation, hath appeared unto all men;" that he hath given a "manifestation of his Spirit to every man, to profit withal;" that "GOD so loved the world, that he hath given his ONLY-BEGOTTEN SON, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting Life:" that he is "the True Light, that lighteth every man that cometh into the world;" that GOD "wills not the death of a sinner, but rather that he would be converted and live;" that his call has been, and now is to "every man," every where, "to repent;" and that every man may partake of this Universal Love, may be saved by this "Grace which hath appeared," may profit by the manifestation which GOD hath given him. To these great and leading truths we are continually called and exhorted to attend; and that there is a possibility of attending and yielding to them, is implied in the very nature and spirit of the declarations themselves. For, certainly, all is in vain--the call to all in vain, the appearance of Grace to all in vain, the gift and manifestation of the Spirit to every one in vain, and the shining of the Light in vain, if fallen man is not put into a capacity of obeying it, and walking therein. "Man's destruction is of himself"--If his distempered nature is not healed, if his soul continues unredeemed, it is not because there is no "Balm in Gilead;" it is not because "the arm of the LORD is shortened, that it cannot save," or the fountain of LOVE so exhausted, that its streams have ceased to flow--but because men will not avail themselves of the healing Balm; because they refuse to be gathered by that compassionate Arm, that is continually stretched forth to save; because they will not open their souls to receive the Waters of Life. Their eyes are so blinded by the false glare of earthly beauty, that they cannot see the surpassing excellency of the Divine Glory--their ears are so deaf, that they have no delight in hearing or obeying the Divine Voice--they are content to walk on in the broad way, and suffer the enemy of their souls to take them captive at his pleasure. Thus entered sin at the beginning--thus it continueth, increaseth, and prevaileth. No man, in his present deplorable state, can open that eye which was blinded by sin; nor unstop that ear which was sealed by his apostasy from his Maker; nor save or deliver himself from the bondage of corruption. Herein, therefore, is the UNIVERSAL LOVE OF GOD made manifest, that "he hath laid help upon one that is Mighty, who is able to save to the uttermost those that come to him;" that he hath appointed and prepared a "Seed that can bruise the serpent's head;" that he hath caused his Light to shine in the Hearts of all men; and hath called all men every where to repent--Now if man still continues to shut his eyes, and harden his heart, and refuse to be reconciled, "his destruction is of himself, and GOD will be just when he judgeth." But here the grand question may be asked--How doth GOD manifest himself to his creatures? There is no Revelation in these days--no spiritual visions now.--no such Sight of GOD, as Abraham, Moses, the Prophets, and the Primitive Christians were favoured with--GOD forbid!--for surely where there is no vision, no sight or sense of heavenly things, there is the Lost State indeed!--where there is no Revelation, there can be no True Knowledge of GOD-for what saith the Scripture--"None knoweth the Father but the Son, and he to whom the SON will reveal him?" Ever since the vail was spread over the human heart, there never was any other way in any age, nor can there be in this age, of coming to the true Knowledge of GOD, but by Revelation; that is, by taking off the vail, and removing the covering that hides the Face of GOD from man.--Men "have sought out many inventions," and devised many ways and means of coming to the knowledge of the Deity; moral and even mathematical demonstrations of his existence, have been attempted; but all in vain. As such inventions and devices have increased, sorrow and perplexity have increased also: and even if they have succeeded so far, as to satisfy the natural understanding, what is it, at best, but a kind of historical knowledge, a strong conceit or imagination of something concerning GOD, without any thing like a sensibility of his Presence, or an intuitive self-evident conviction of his nature and attributes?--Far different this from the knowledge which Job experienced, and which every real Christian may express in his language: "I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now hath mine eye seen thee: therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." It is not improbable, but Job might have amused himself, like some of our modern philosophizing Christians, with fine-spun theories and speculations upon the nature and attributes of the DIVINITY; and whilst the tide of temporal prosperity continued to flow in upon him, whilst "he washed his steps in butter, and the rock poured out for him rivers of oil," whilst his health continued unimpaired, and his domestic bliss uninterrupted, such empty researches might have been sufficient to entertain his imagination; and such an outward knowledge of the MOST HIGH, might satisfy a soul, that was yet insensible of any spiritual or temporal wants or distresses. But let the hand of GOD fall heavy upon him; let his body be visited with pain and sickness, and his soul wounded with grief and disappointment; let him be stripped of all his worldly affluence, and deprived of all his domestic comforts; and he will soon find, that the wants of nature, when deeply felt, are not to be supplied by reasoning and speculation; that an outward hearsay knowledge of GOD is of no avail; that it cannot administer the least relief either to the body or the mind; that it cannot sooth or mitigate one bodily pain, or send one ray of light into the dark and comfortless regions of the soul. Go to the chambers of sickness, visit the melancholy retreats of indigence and woe! produce there your strong reasonings--strive, with learned labour, to open and convince the understandings of your suffering brethren--enumerate to them all the outward evidences, that you can collect, of the great truths of religion--give them proof upon proof, demonstration upon demonstration--talk to them of the Nature and Attributes of GOD, and the immortality of their souls--tell them what the SON OF GOD hath done and suffered for sinners; what are the means of reconciliation, and what the sure grounds of an happy death--give them all that they can receive "by the hearing of the ear"--and what have you done, and what have they gained?--Why you have done just as much as an unskilful physician would do, who entertained his patient with a learned dissertation upon the virtues and excellencies of a certain medicine, which he had somewhere read or heard of, as admirably adapted to the disorder, but which he had never seen with his eyes, and of the nature of which he knew nothing by his own experience. Thus it is with this outward knowledge of GOD: the poor soul is left to feed upon words or ideas, and to seek comfort, in vain, in empty speculations. Fruitless, indeed, are such attempts as these! Till the soul is shaken to her very center, till the stone is removed from the door of the sepulchre, that GOD who "makes darkness his secret place," can never be seen. The eye must be turned inwardly, to view what is passing in the inmost soul, to discover what its wants and necessities are, as well as what will supply them, and yield it peace, and yield it happiness, from an inexhaustible source. It must feel its own darkness, before it can seek to have it enlightened--The same Light that breaks in upon it like the dawn of day, gives it the first sensibility of distress, as well as the first sensibility of consolation "now hath mine eye seen thee, therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes"--I now feel the misery of nature without GOD--I feel nothing but darkness, and want, and hunger, and thirst! But in this darkness, under this want, in this hunger and thirst, the soul must wait, without reasoning, without repining, in stillness, in silence, till the invisible GOD shines into the darkness, and till the darkness comprehends and eagerly imbibes the Light, and he, in whom is no darkness at all, manifesteth his Presence by a self-evident sensibility. Thus it is, that man, by virtue of the Redeeming Power of the Second Adam, implanted in his heart as a spark of Heavenly flame, hidden under the flesh and blood of fallen nature, is revived, quickened, and enlightened. The Heavenly Birth soon perceives and owns its parent--the outward knowledge gives way to the inward manifestation--and GOD, and Heaven, and Goodness, and Grace, are seen and known, and felt by their own incontestible workings in the human Heart. Hence, the fruits of the SPIRIT, the fruits of Heaven, begin to bud and blossom: "love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness," are felt and practised; and the soul lives and breathes in the Heavenly world, even whilst she inherits this frail tenement of clay. And now, my brethren, is not such a Knowledge of GOD worth possessing? A Knowledge, that unites you to him; makes you One Heart and Spirit with him; gives the highest relish to all the joys, and the firmest support under all the evils of life; which will stand by you, when every outward comfort fails, when relations, friends, wealth, power, and all that earth is able to supply, can no longer yield you the least support or satisfaction. Some of the great obstacles and impediments to the attainment of this Knowledge, I shall enumerate in my next discourse. DISCOURSE XVII. The true Knowledge of God internal and practical. JOB, CHAP. xlii. VER. 5, 6. "I HAVE HEARD OF THEE BY THE HEARING OF THE EAR; BUT NOW HATH MINE EYE SEEN THEE: THEREFORE I ABHOR MYSELF, AND REPENNT IN DUST AND ASHES." In a former discourse from these words, I explained to you the difference between that Knowledge of GOD which is obtained by "the hearing of the ear," and that which arises in the human heart, from a spiritual sensibility of his Presence and Power within us. I observed, that the former was, at best, but a kind of historical knowledge, or, perhaps, nothing more than a strong conceit or imagination of something concerning GOD; far different from that intuitive, self-evident, saving Knowledge of him, which Job speaks of in the text, and which every truly pious foul cannot but feel. I endeavoured, likewise, to point out the Rise and Progress of this Knowledge, as well as the blessed Fruits or Effects of which it is certainly productive. I then concluded with asking you, whether such a Knowledge of GOD as I had been describing, was not worth your possessing? A knowledge, that would unite you to him, make you One Spirit, One Will, One Nature, with your heavenly Father--that would give the highest relish to all the joys, and support you under all the evils of life; that will stand by you, when every outward comfort fails, when friends, and relations, and wealth, and power, and all that earth is able to supply, can no longer yield you the least support or satisfaction. Convinced, as I think you must needs be, of the infinite value of such a possession as this, I would now ask you, what it is that keeps you from desiring and seeking to obtain it. Your answer, if you knew yourselves, would be, that you did not at present feel the want of it.--This state of insensibility, therefore, to "the things that belong to your peace," must arise from certain obstacles and impediments, which, agreeable to my promise, I now proceed to enumerate. We are told, that the famous Selden, on his death-bed, sent for archbishop Usher, and, in the course of a most serious and affecting conversation, assured him, that he had accurately surveyed almost every part of literature and science, that was held in the highest esteem by the sons of men; that he had a study filled with the most valuable books and manuscripts in the world; and yet, that, at that time, he could not recollect one single passage out of any volume in this large collection, upon which he could rest his soul, or from which he could derive one ray of consolation, except some that he had met with in the Holy Scriptures; and that the most remarkable passage that then made the deepest impression upon his mind, was this: "For the GRACE OF GOD that bringeth Salvation, hath appeared unto all men, teaching us, that denying ungodliness, and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearance of the great GOD, and our Saviour JESUS CHRIST." "The GRACE OF GOD," indeed, "hath appeared unto all men." One of the principal impediments to their sight of this Grace, is what poor Selden complained of, viz. a looking for it in the writings of human reason, and expecting to find it by the same learned labour with which we investigate some mathematical or logical truth. Selden, with all his learning, therefore, was obliged to seek for a True Knowledge of GOD, in the volume of his own heart; and, agreeable to the direction of an outward revelation, to look for the appearance of that Grace which it promised, in a place, which his genius had not yet explored, and which could never have been revealed to his outward eye. He had, no doubt, "heard of GOD by the hearing of the ear," and could have accurately demonstrated his existence and attributes--but, till that blessed moment, "his eye had never seen him." Thus, all those fine literary accomplishments, which feed the pride of the scholar, (though, when properly applied, they have their uses, and great uses too) must, nevertheless, be sacrificed, when they prove, as they frequently do, very great impodiments to a spiritual knowledge of GOD. The most towering genius upon earth, can never gain admittance into the Kingdom of Heaven, till he condescends to the simplicity of a child, and with faith and humility opens his heart to his Heavenly Father for that true wisdom, which can only come by immediate revelation from him. But the "wisdom of this world," or "science falsely so called," is not the only impediment to our spiritual sight of GOD. There are many, who, under a specious pretence of making a proper and honourable provision for their families, involve themselves so deeply in business, as it is called, that they will not allow themselves a single moment to attend to the concerns of another world. And were we to enquire the reason of this strange conduct, they might very properly make us the same answer, which the Duke of Alva made to King Henry IV. upon another occasion: Did you observe, my Lord Duke, said the Monarch, the great eclipse of the sun, that lately happened?--No, may it please your Majesty, replied the Duke--I have so much business to do on earth, that I have no leisure to look up to heaven. In truth, my brethren, your mere men of business, and a trading city like ours abounds with temptations to this kind of life; I say, your mere men of business, either forget, in the hurry of affairs, that their souls are immortal, and ought therefore to be fed and attended to at least as much as their bodies; or else, to quiet their consciences, they reason themselves into a belief that their souls may die with their bodies, and therefore all thought or concern about religious matters, is useless, and will only interrupt their worldly pursuits. Success in trade introduces wealth, and, with it, its never-failing attendant, luxury. From this fatal source proceed a thousand impediments to a religious life, that are more readily felt than enumerated. Hence an amazing increase of expence, with an increasing taste for high living, sumptuous apparel, and splendid entertainments. By an immoderate attention to these, the minds of men are gradually weaned from those good impressions, which they have received in their earlier years, from sober, frugal, and industrious parents.--The peasant treads close upon the heels of the courtier; and such is the reigning fondness for what is called fashionable life, that people of the most affluent circumstances, and who move in the highest sphere, are scarcely to be distinguished from those of the most scanty fortunes; and even indigence itself puts in its claim for a share of the outward glitter.--And it were well, if the evil proceeded no further than this. But if things should come to such a pass, that Religion itself, nay, even the very appearances of it, should be deemed unfashionable; if people should be afraid to come to the house of GOD, lest they should have their taste called in question, lest they should be suspected by their gay and worldly friends, of entertaining one serious thought about another world, about GOD and their own souls; if the Sabbath, instead of being wholly dedicated to, and spent in the service of, that GOD by whom it was instituted, should be either lolled away in indolence, or spent in posting of books, settling of accounts at home, or devoted to entertainments and parties of pleasure abroad; if such should be the consequences of an immoderate pursuit of business, and an inordinate fondness for a fashionable life, would you not conclude, that these were surely the greatest and most dangerous impediments to a true and saving knowledge of GOD? If these evils have not appeared in such a degree, as I have described them, I think, at least, they are not far from it; and I begin to fear, that the time is approaching, when many amongst us will be so far from "seeing GOD," as Job expresses it, "with their eyes," that they will not even "hear of him by the hearing of the ear." For believe me, my brethren, we cannot know GOD, we cannot even desire to know him, whilst our whole hearts and minds are engaged in the things of the world, whilst we turn, with all the eagerness of desire, to the senseless pageantry and pleasures of a vain and trifling age. Shall I spare myself the pain of telling, what ought not to be an offence to you to hear?--or will you give me leave to point out to you, in plainer terms, what I apprehend to be your principal impediments to such a view of the Divine Majesty, as would lead you to "abhor yourselves, and repent in dust and ashes." It cannot be denied, that luxury, extravagance, and dissipation of every kind, have, within these few years, made a most rapid progress amongst us.--Your ministers have long, perhaps too long, been silent upon these subjects.--But though preventive medicines are sometimes given with success, yet the symptoms of a disorder, as they appear in its process, are what must principally direct the application. What they have now to say, comes to you with this corroborating circumstance in its support, that we speak not from what we have apprehended might be, but from what we have seen hath actually come to pass. We have observed, with real heart-felt concern, a general proneness to pleasure, and a general indifference to the very forms of religion.--Our discourses, though without particular applications, have been adapted, as far as we were able to judge, to the circumstances of the people whom we addressed.--We have not, however, been unconcerned spectators of your conduct. We have observed, with what eagerness many of you have crouded to scenes of amusement and dissipation, and what backwardness you have shewn in attending the publick worship of GOD. Even the man of business could devote many hours in the week, to the calls of worldly pleasure, whilst he refused to give one to the calls of GOD upon his own Sabbath. Matters are, indeed, too serious to be passed by in silence. We are your ministers, we are your servants; we should not be faithful to you, nor to ourselves, were we to neglect giving you the alarm, when we saw, or even apprehended, that you were in imminent danger. The enemy hath already entered your houses--he hath entered your hearts! Under the specious disguise and appellation of innocent amusements, he is secretly drawing off your hearts from GOD, and carrying you away captive at his will--Use not, I beseech you, the word innocent, in vindicating your pleasures--Nothing can be innocent, let it be ever so seemingly trifling, that wholly engrosses the mind, and takes it off from attending to the great concerns of Salvation. Amusements, though they may be innocent at first, become more or less criminal, as they have a greater or less tendency to wean the heart from GOD. Upon this maxim, I leave it to your own experience to determine, what particular kind of amusements has had the greatest tendency to effect this in you. Far be it from me, to declaim, with an affected pharisaical severity, against innocent recreations of any kind. But, Gracious GOD! can a Christian complain of want of amusements, that has a family round him; that has a dear child, or children, to educate; that has brothers, or sisters, or relations, or friends; with whom he can live in a most sweet and delightful intercourse of endearing offices? What a strange perversion of nature, sense, and reason, to take delight in going abroad, to have our affections excited by imaginary objects and romantic representations, when we have so many real ones at home, in the course of every day, and in the way of our duty, to call forth and promote their best and highest exercise? I do not descend to particulars--let these few hints suffice.--I have delivered them in love--in love, I hope, they will be received. Permit me, however, once more to repeat--that it is this immoderate fondness for pleasure and dissipation, that keeps you from feeling the real wants of your nature, and, consequently, from applying to the true and only Source, from whence they can be fully satisfied. But this deception cannot last long; false happiness has no sure foundation; it must, therefore, totter and fall at last. You will not always be as gay, as healthy, and as prosperous, as you are now.--The vigour of the best constitution cannot long preserve you from sickness, and from death.--Neither the abundance of wealth, nor the increase of power, nor the support of popularity, can long protect you from disappointment and distress. You may think as lightly as you please of religious duties now; but, depend upon it, the hour is at hand, when every little neglect of them, every little preference you have given to the solicitations of pleasure, will wound you to the very heart. You will then be convinced of the danger of trifling with that immortal spirit that is within you; and deeply regret, that you have been so far from having "seen GOD," spiritually manifested in your hearts, that you have scarcely "heard of him by the hearing of the ear." I cannot dismiss you, without one observation more. Hypocrisy, and a pharisaical righteousness, are as great, and perhaps greater impediments to the true Knowledge of GOD, than any of those I have already mentioned. The root is deeper, the evil more difficult to be eradicated. Should any of you, therefore, have been solacing yourselves with the view of your own fancied virtues, and thanking GOD, that you have not, like others, been running after this or the other new and fashionable amusement, but have kept yourselves strictly within the pale of outward duties; I beseech you not to be too liberal of your censures, nor too forward in prying into the conduct of your neighbours; but to look at home with a jealous and watchful eye, to examine your own hearts, and see, that whilst ye are "paying tithe of mint, and annise, and cummin," ye do not "neglect the weightier matters of the law, mercy, justice, forbearance, and charity." Whilst ye have "heard of GOD by the hearing of the ear," your eyes, perhaps, may not yet have seen him; whilst you are abhorring and standing aloof from your brethren, as if ye were holier than they, ye do not "abhor yourselves, and repent in dust and ashes." Remember, that a censorious spirit, and a disposition to think and speak evil of others, is as foreign to the Spirit of Christianity, as any other evil temper or disposition can be. To conclude: A true Christian will lament the general decline of Religion, and wish and pray for better times, without being angry, or shewing any marks of unkindness to his brethren. Yea, so far from keeping himself at a distance, he will mingle, as occasion or duty calls, with men of every class. He will be religious without severity, and chearful without dissipation; he will instruct without seeming to dictate, and reprove with such mildness, that his very censures shall be received as the highest tokens of his love. In this sweet Spirit of the Gospel of JESUS, Heaven grant that we may mutually receive and impart such truths, as "belong to our peace," both here and hereafter! DISCOURSE XVIII. On the Nativity of Christ. St. LUKE, CHAP. ii. from VER. 6 to 20. "AND SO IT WAS, THAT WHILE THEY WERE THERE, THE DAYS WERE ACCOMPLISHED, THAT SHE SHOULD BE DELIVERED," &c. In the first chapter of his Gospel, the Evangelist has given a particular account of the conception and birth of John the Baptist, the Salutation of the BLESSED VIRGIN, and her miraculous conception of the HOLY JESUS. According to a regular series of historical facts, this second chapter opens with a like circumstantial narrative of the nativity of our BLESSED REDEEMER. An edict is issued by Augustus Cæsar, enjoining all the subjects of the Roman empire to repair to their several cities, in order to have their names enrolled for a general taxation. In obedience to this imperial decree, Joseph, the espoused husband of Mary, is obliged to leave Nazareth, the place of his residence, and take a journey to Bethlehem the city of David, to be enrolled there, because he was of the house and lineage of David. Mary, his espoused wife, though "great with child," accompanies him. A most remarkable interposition of Divine Providence appears in the whole transaction. The prophets had foretold, that the MESSIAH should be born at Bethlehem, and that he should descend from the family of David. The Roman emperor's decree was rendered subservient to the accomplishment of these prophecies. Mary was thereby brought to Bethlehem, and delivered of the MESSIAH, and her descent from the royal line of David was publickly recognized. Ver. 6. "And so it was, that while they were there, the days were accomplished, that she should be delivered." Ver. 7. "And she brought forth her first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn." A plain but affecting narrative! The apartments of the inn, we may suppose, were occupied by more honourable guests. The Virgin Mother was content to retire to a stable, and to lie down among brutes. Hapless Mary! we are ready to exclaim--is it thus, that the promises of the Angel are to be accomplished? Is this to be "highly favoured?" And are these the blessings, by which thou art to be distinguished from the rest of thy sex? Must thy spotless Babe, at the very instant of his birth, enter upon his Labour of Love? and must the stable at Bethlehem be the first scene of that awful drama, which was afterwards closed on the trembling top of Calvary? But in what manner was the appearance of this illustrious Babe made known to the world? Should not the princes and great ones of the earth have had proper intelligence of his arrival, that they might have hastened from their several kingdoms and provinces, thrown themselves at his feet, paid him the homage due to his exalted character, and obliged all their subjects to do the same? No--."GOD'S thoughts are not as man's thoughts, neither are his ways as man's ways." The same reason for which he thought proper to send his Angel to the humble Mary, induced him now to give the first notice of his SON'S birth to a few simple shepherds. Ver. 8. "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night." Ver. 9. "And lo, the Angel of the LORD came upon them, and the Glory of the LORD shone round about them, and they were sore afraid." The pastoral life was once thought to be the happiest and most innocent life upon earth. Far from the noise of cities, and the hurry of the busy world, free from its anxieties, and ignorant of many of its vices, they enjoyed the full tranquillity of the rural scene. As their flocks were their only care, they had abundant leisure for meditation and prayer. As they had no schemes of interest or ambition to accomplish, they were plain, unprejudiced, and undesigning men. A few of these shepherds were in the fields, bordering upon Bethlehem, watching by turns their sheep the whole night, as was the custom of the country; when their senses were suddenly struck with a great and unusual glare of light, in the midst of which appeared an Angel of GOD, bright and glorious. They were confounded with the excessive splendor. They trembled, and were sore afraid. But the Angel, with all the sweetness and chearfulness of Heaven in his countenance, thus comfortably addressed them: Ver. 10. "Fear not: for, behold! I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people." Ver. 11. "For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is CHRIST the LORD." Be not afraid! I am come, not to terrify you, but to bring you great and joyous tidings, in which not yourselves only, but the whole nation of the Jews, yea, all the inhabitants of the world, are deeply interested! For he, of whom all the prophets prophesied, and whom all the people of Israel have, according to the promise of GOD, long and ardently expected, even the MESSIAH, the Saviour and Deliverer, is this night born in Bethlehem, the city of David. Ver. 12. "And this shall be a sign unto you--" a sign, by which you shall know him, the moment you enter into his presence--"ye shall find the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger." Scarce had the Angel delivered his message, when a whole choir of his celestial brethren burst forth with additional splendors from the midnight sky, and saluted the shepherds' ears with a birth-day anthem. Ver. 13. "And suddenly there was with the Angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising GOD, and saying:" Ver. 14. "Glory to GOD in the highest; and on earth peace, good-will towards men!" No expressions of joy could have been more admirably adapted than these, to so glorious an occasion: for the glory of the Divine Majesty was most eminently displayed in that gracious message of peace and reconciliation, of Love and Good-Will, which was here published to the world. If those pure and perfect Intelligences could thus testify their transport upon an event, in which an inferior order of beings were more immediately concerned; surely, that order are continually bound to render the highest and most grateful returns of praise, acknowledgment, and love! For us men, and for our Salvation, a GOD becomes incarnate. The ETERNAL WORD clothes himself in clay. He assumes our nature in its most helpless state; and is born, like one of us, a naked, weak, and wailing Babe. Thus began the mighty process of Redeeming Love! To rescue us from the misery of a fallen life; to restore the Divine Image to our souls; to regain, for us, that state of rectitude, of union and communion with GOD, which we had lost in Adam; and completely to repair the ruins of nature were the benevolent purposes, which the GOD of LOVE determined to accomplish by sending into the world his only-begotten SON. Well, therefore, might the inhabitants of Heaven, at the prospect of such ineffable goodness and condescension, break forth, enraptured, into these sublime and joyous strains: "Glory to GOD in the highest; and on earth Peace, Good-Will towards men!" Ver. 15. "And it came to pass, as the Angels were gone away from them into Heaven, the shepherds said one to another: Let us now go, even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the LORD hath made known unto us." They did not stay to "confer with flesh and blood;" to reason, and doubt, and hesitate, whether this might not be a delusion; but, in the true simplicity of faith, improved the heavenly warning, and hastened to Bethlehem, in full assurance of meeting with every thing conformable to the notice they had received. Ver. 16. "And they came with haste, and found Mary and Joseph, and the Babe lying in a manger." Glorious confirmation and reward of the shepherds' faith! O that all who call themselves Christians, would with the same child-like simplicity surrender themselves to JESUS CHRIST! They have frequent and sufficient warnings of his kind intentions towards them. They are assured, that he is the Light and Life of men; and that if they apply to him, they will receive the most salutary manifestations of this Life and Light in their souls. Were they to listen and obey these warnings, and go as they are directed, they would as surely find this Heavenly Babe in their hearts, as the shepherds found him in the stable at Bethlehem. Ver. 17. "And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this Child." In like manner, the true Believer, who hath experienced the operation of the Spirit of GOD bearing witness with his spirit, that the Child JESUS is born in his heart, cannot but "make known abroad," what he has felt and experienced of this spiritual birth, though his testimony rarely produces any better effects upon his hearers, than that of wonder and astonishment. Ver. 18. "And all they that heard it, wondered at those things, which were told them by the shepherds." "They were greatly amazed, and at a loss to know, what to make of the report. They could not think it likely, that such a set of plain, honest, undesigning men should have formed the story, and should go about to impose it on the world. They could not but know, indeed, that their testimony was strengthened by a general expectation, at that time, of the MESSIAH'S appearance, and by the prevailing opinion that his birth would be at Bethlehem: yet they were astonished, that he should be born of such mean parents, and in such despicable circumstances; and that persons of such low figure as these shepherds, should be the men to whom GOD had sent an Angel to reveal it." From the conduct of the shepherds, the Evangelist passes to that of the Blessed Virgin, which differs much from theirs, as might indeed be expected from her different situation and circumstances. For whereas, "they made known abroad the saying that was told them concerning this child," we are assured, that Ver. 19. "Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart." By "these things," we are doubtless to understand the whole series of astonishing events, from the first salutation of the Angel, to this visit of the shepherds. Under the power of these reflections, methinks I see the Blessed Mother, bending disconsolate over her shivering infant! Her countenance speaks a thousand tender emotions of her heart! It is a look, composed of deep anxiety, maternal fondness, compassion and love inexpressible! In her varying features one may read too the varying sensibilities of her soul. Sweet heavenly babe! How mild, how serenely soft thy aspect! How seemingly satisfied with thy hard allotment! Surely the bleak winds will pierce thy tender frame! Surely the rugged winter means not to relent for thee! And yet the Messenger of Heaven hath assured me, that thou shouldst be a JESUS, a SAVIOUR; that thou shouldst be called the SON OF THE HIGHEST; that thou shouldst sit upon the throne of DAVID, and that of thy kingdom there should be no end. But where are the ensigns of royalty? where are the tokens of thy illustrious birth? Instead of a sumptuous palace, thou art lodged in a loathsome stable. No bed of down receives thy precious limbs! No warm and comfortable apartments shield thee from the rude inclemencies of the air! A manger is thy cradle! And thy poor indigent mother seems, under Providence, to be thine only support! No courtiers attend to bow the knee, to pay the customary homage due to royalty, and bid thee welcome to the throne of Israel. A few simple shepherds have indeed been here, and tendered thee their honest obeisance! They told too a wondrous tale, from the several circumstances of which, I am now more and more persuaded, that the finger of GOD is here; that his Veracity spoke in the salutation of the Angel; that his Power and Goodness will be exalted by thy present Humiliation; and that I must henceforth feel more than a mother's fondness, and look upon thee, sweet Babe! as my LORD, my LIFE, and my REDEEMER. Such were the astonishing circumstances that employed the attention of Mary; and thus it was, that "she kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart." She did not publish her sentiments to the world. She did not court the honour and respect of men, by displaying the dignity of her babe, or telling abroad what she knew concerning him; but satisfied with her own conviction, humbly waited, till Providence should make use of some other means to acquaint the world with these "tidings of great joy." If now, like Mary, we seriously attend to, and ponder in our hearts all the amazing circumstances of this great event, we cannot fail, I think, of learning from thence a lesson of Humility. This amiable and peculiarly Christian grace, is the foundation and ground-work of every other excellence and perfection. Without it, we can have no pretensions to Christianity; we are strangers to the Truth and Spirit of the Gospel: "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye cannot be my disciples!" As long as pride, vanity, arrogance, and inordinate self-love, keep possession of thy soul, be assured, O man, that the Babe of Bethlehem will not take up his residence with thee! In order to invite this Heavenly Guest to thine heart, it must be as empty and free from worldly ornaments, as was the stable in which he was born. "Be ye then cloathed with humility." This plain and modest garb best becomes the disciples of so meek a Master. Thou must feel thyself very poor, before thou canst be rich in CHRIST. Thou must part with all that thou hast, for this Pearl of great Price; and must come to him as naked and helpless as a new-born babe, in a true child-like simplicity of faith. It is this alone can give thee sweet tranquillity of soul, even that "peace of GOD, which passeth all understanding;" that "white stone and new name, which no man knoweth, save him that receiveth it." Thy soul will then "magnify the LORD, and thy spirit will rejoice in GOD thy SAVIOUR." This inward spiritual change, is not the consequence of a bare meditation upon the circumstances of our Lord's nativity, a simple assent to, or belief of, the historical account given by the Evangelist. No, it arises from an experience of the whole process in our own souls. In vain was this Divine Infant born into the world, unless he is likewise born in our hearts, not figuratively born, which is no birth at all, but manifesting himself by a vital and essential union with our spirits. This is regeneration, our new-birth, our birth to light, and life, and glory. Those who have experienced this, must taste and feel, in some degree, the raptures of those exalted spirits, who dwell continually in the Beatifying Presence of their Master. They are raised above flesh and blood: "It is not they that live, but CHRIST that liveth in them." They are sensible of the daily growth of that Heavenly Nature, which they receive from him, and which diffuseth a light through their souls, that "shineth more and more unto the perfect day." Like the shepherds returning from Bethlehem, they are continually "glorifying and praising GOD for all the things that they have heard and seen." The End of VOL. I. Transcriber's Notes: Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. Typographical errors were silently corrected. Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a predominant form was found in this book. Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). 
59041	----	[Transcriber's notes: This production is based on https://archive.org/details/sermonspaulists00unknuoft/page/n7. Many footnotes have additional citations indicated by "USCCB", based on the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops Bible found at http://usccb.org/bible/books-of-the-bible. Most differences appear to be typographical errors not detected in proofreading or minor changes in verse numbering. End of Transcriber's notes.] {1} SERMONS. {2} {3} Sermons, Preached At The Church of St. Paul the Apostle, New York, During the Year 1861. ----------- New York: Van Parys, Hugot & Howell, 34 Beekman Street. 1861. {4} Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, by VAN PARYS, HUGOT & HOWELL, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. --------------- C. A. ALVORD, PRINTER. {5} PREFACE. ------------ Some of those friends who listened to the sermons contained in this volume have expressed a desire to see them in print, and thought they would do good. This friendly counsel has not been acted upon without hesitation. The great scarcity of Catholic sermons in English would seem to afford motive enough for publishing, though it is feared that these may fall too far below the standard. Certainly, they make no pretence to brilliant passages of imagination, flowers of style, or appeals to popular enthusiasm; {6} these not comporting with the serious and earnest work in which we are engaged. But we trust that they will be found plain, simple, and direct, and that there may be those among our Catholic brethren who will derive an appreciable benefit from their perusal--some clearer view of Christian doctrine or moral duty, some thought to touch the heart, and draw it upward to God. If so, our purpose will have been accomplished. With so much of explanation we send out these few sermons into the world; doubting, somewhat, if all who heard them when they came living and warm from the preacher's lips, and listened with interest then, will prize them now as they lie cold and uncolored on the paper. St. Paul's. 59th Street, Dec. 1. 1861. {7} CONTENTS. PAGE. I. The Earnest Man 9 II. Unworthy Communion 26 III. Christ's Resurrection The Foundation of Our Faith 40 IV. Giving Testimony 63 V. Spiritual Death 76 VI. The Love Of God 93 VII. Keeping The Law Not Impossible 107 VIII. The Two Standards 124 IX. The Epiphany 143 X. Renunciation 158 XI. The Afflictions Of The Just 176 XII. False Maxims 190 XIII. Mary's Destiny A Type Of Ours 205 XIV. Mortal Sin Exemplified In The History Of Judas 221 {8} XV. Interior Life 234 XVI. True Christian Humility 254 XVII. What The Desire To Love God Can Do 270 XVIII. The Worth Of The Soul 293 XIX. Merit The Measure Of Reward 310 XX. Self-denial 330 {9} SERMON I. The Earnest Man. A Sermon For The Commemoration Of St. Paul, Apostle. (From the Epistle, Gal. i., 11-23.) I have read the Epistle for the day, rather than the Gospel, because it contains a brief but characteristic sketch of the great Apostle, drawn by his own hand. How strange is the history of this man! We have here the Church's most bitter persecutor converted into the most zealous and successful of all the Apostles. At first we discover a careful and devoted student of the Jewish law; afterward he stands forth the most learned and eloquent expounder of the Christian Gospel. {10} We see him in his youth a witness of St. Stephen's martyrdom, standing by to hold the garments of those who stoned him to death, sternly and pitilessly looking on; and again in his old age we find him lying lifeless on the Ostian road, outside the walls of Rome, a headless trunk, a martyr in the same cause for which St. Stephen died. We see him at first "_ravaging the Church, entering into houses, and hauling away men and women, and committing them to prison,_" and shortly afterward we hear the wondering Christians whisper to each other: "_He that persecuted us in times past now preaches the faith_." In the beginning, foremost of all the Jews was he in that terrible energy which they put forth to destroy the Church; and afterward foremost among the Apostles, he was able to say with truth: "_I have labored more abundantly than they all_." In fine, one trait of character distinguished this great Apostle at all times, both before and after his conversion. He was always an earnest man. It is worth our while this morning to study his character well, for--from the bottom of my soul I do believe it--a few such earnest Christians in our day would be enough to move the world. {11} Let us look at him first during the early part of his career, and see how this earnestness of character displays itself in one whose mind is misguided, by religious error. In the first place, then, St. Paul before his conversion was distinguished by an earnest and ardent love of truth, and consequently, a strong attachment to what he deemed to be the truth. I have already read to you in the Epistle what he says of his own early life: "_I made progress in the Jews' religion above many of my equals in my own nation, being more abundantly zealous for the traditions of my fathers._" This earnestness of his sprang from a deep love of truth, and it made him what he afterward became, the foremost champion of the true faith. The human mind is created for truth, is naturally attracted to the truth when fairly presented, and if not led away by a corrupted heart, embraces it with joy. Truth comes readily to those that love it, and therefore there is, after all, nothing unnatural in this conversion of a Hebrew zealot into a Christian evangelist; for if he loved error at first, it was only because in good faith he mistook it for the truth, and if he hated the truth, it was only because he did not see it in its true colors, but misrepresented and perverted. {12} These men who are zealous, honestly zealous, in error, are the very men to embrace the truth; and, on the contrary, they who stand perfectly indifferent between contradictory creeds, are the least open to conviction. Both reason and experience teach this. Nothing is more common in our day than a class of men who look with perfect[ly] good nature upon every form of religious doctrine, except perhaps that particular one in which they themselves were reared, and which is supposed therefore to have some practical claim upon them. Did you ever know one of these "liberal fellows," so called, to be come Catholic? I mean these men who, having no religious faith to love, can have no error to hate. I mean, for example, these nominal Protestants who, when in your presence, turn into ridicule every Protestant form of religion, without believing a word of yours; one of these good-natured fellows that think the Catholic religion is quite as good as any, in some respects the best of any, since it is the farthest out of their way. {13} Take, for instance, one of these liberal politicians that you always see at the public dinner on Patrick's day; that will subscribe cordially to a Catholic charity, if you ask him, but comes back to remind you of it on election day. Did you ever know a man of this stamp to become Catholic? No, indeed; divine truth has attractions only for earnest souls. A _hickory_ Protestant is as poor a thing as a _hickory_ Catholic. Such a man has two fundamental axioms to get by heart, before religious truth can take possession of his soul; first, that there is such a thing as truth, and next, that his mind was made for it, and needs it. Oh! it is sad to see a man in ignorance of the way of salvation,--sadder still to see him blindly prejudiced against it; but the saddest, most ignoble, and most hopeless of all conditions, is to be indifferent to it. St. Paul was another type of man. He was an earnest one. He believed the Jewish religion to be the true and only true one, and therefore he loved it with all his soul, and was zealous for it. When the scales fell from his eyes, and the Christian faith was revealed to him in all its truth and beauty, he embraced it, and clung to it, and abandoned himself to it, with all the energies of that same earnest soul. {14} Had he been a "liberal" Jew, we should have far more reason to wonder at his conversion; it is still less probable that God would have selected him for the Apostle of the Gentiles. An earnest lover of truth, even before his conversion, it followed as a natural consequence, that St. Paul hated error; and for this reason he opposed the Christian religion with all his might, and with his whole soul, because he believed it to be false and dangerous. "_You have heard_," said he, writing to the Christians of Galatia, "_of my conversation in time past in the Jews religion, how that beyond measure I persecuted the Church of God, and laid it waste._" But he tells us elsewhere: "_I obtained mercy of God, because I did it ignorantly in unbelief_." In the same proportion that the earnest man loves what is good and true, he hates what is false and evil, or what he thinks so, and opposes it too. St. Paul opposed the Christian faith with all his power, because he believed it to be false. He was wrong there: it was an error of judgment. {15} He persecuted it too violently, "beyond measure," forgetting the rules of charity. There he was wrong again; it was an error of the heart. But in all this he was in earnest, hating false doctrine; and there he was right. I do not sympathize with his delusion, but I love him for his earnestness. Oh! how many such men may there not be in this country of ours, that we rank among our bitterest foes!--men who honestly oppose our holy religion, not for what it really is, but what they think it to be. Could we open that sealed and sacred register of the divine counsels, wherein the fortunes of mankind are written, with what delight should we read there the names of many of our bitterest opponents who are destined to kneel and worship with us yet, as others, thank God, have done already! Why not? I do from my heart believe that many of these make war upon us only from mistake of judgment. They know our doctrines only by false report. They judge of our morals only by such Catholics as are either the most ignorant of their own religion, or else entirely false to the teachings of their Church, and strangers to her sacraments, although some of these may be loud enough at times in proclaiming a faith they have not, to further some political pretension, or sanctify some ungodly trade. {16} Under such circumstances it is not strange that many earnest men should set their faces against us. Could they cease to hate our religion, while they believe it to be false? Can they sympathize with us, while they believe us to be corrupted by it? Oh! God, send these men into thy fold! Take off the scales from their eyes, and send them to us. We need earnest men amongst us. The half-hearted, indifferent Protestant who calls himself a liberal, we do not hope for. We have too many such already; we could spare them by the thousand, for they neither save their own souls, nor bring credit to thy cause. But send us earnest men like St. Paul, who know how to hate error, because they love the truth! If, even when groping in the darkness of Judaism, St. Paul was so honest-hearted and earnest, we shall not find him otherwise when enlightened by the grace of Jesus Christ, and enlisted in his holy cause. He had before him two great enterprises, which require not only large grace from God, but all one's manhood and energy to carry on well. {17} He had his own soul to sanctify and save, and he had an Apostle's work to do. He set about both like a man in earnest, with that deliberate, deep and concentrated enthusiasm which is not wont to fail. Let us see first what care he took of his own salvation. Would you believe it, my brethren, that St. Paul--after all that wonderful life of toil and privation in the cause of Christ, after his many voyages and frequent shipwrecks, imprisoned often, and dragged before different tribunals, after being scourged five times by the Jews and three times by the Romans, stoned by the mob in the streets and left for dead, wandering about without any fixed home, and often famishing for food and drink, and faint for want of sleep--would you believe, I say, that he yet trembled for fear of being damned? He was afraid lest that poor, emaciated body of his might rebel against the spirit, and drag him into some grievous sin. "_Oh! wretched man that I am!_" was his mournful cry, "_who shall deliver me from this body of death?_" For this reason he scourged himself. "_Therefore I chastise my body, and bring it into subjection, lest, perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become reprobate_." {18} This is being in earnest. I think, my brethren, our bodies are as dangerous to us, as St. Paul's was to him. Are we as much in earnest to guard against a fall? Gluttony, drunkenness, impurity, idleness and effeminacy--these sensual sins are generated in the body. We may not, all of us, be guilty of them, not grossly guilty; but we are none of us quite safe against them. What means do we employ to subjugate our bodies, or was St. Paul less safe than we? According to the idea of this great Apostle, the way to heaven is a constant and difficult warfare. Nothing in language can be more striking and vivid than his description of an earnest Christian struggling to make sure his salvation. He compares him to wrestlers, boxers, and runners in the public games. Have you ever seen two strong men wrestling? How their muscles harden into knots, and their veins swell full as if they would burst! How all their energies are engaged! How wary they are to guard against a fall, and how quick to seize upon any advantage! Imagine them to be real enemies wrestling for life, and then you have an image of the actual contest of an earnest Christian struggling for salvation with the enemies of his soul. {19} "_Brethren_," says St. Paul, and I seem to hear those deep tones giving counsel like a friendly voice at the beginning of a deadly fray, "_Brethren, put on the armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the snares of the devil. For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers, against the rulers of this world of darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places_." Tell me, my brethren, is this your idea of the Christian warfare? Is it with this terrible earnestness you struggle to work out your salvation, or do you make a pastime of it? He compares us Christians to professional racers. "_Know you not that they who run in the race all run indeed, but one receiveth the prize? So run that you may win_." For my part, he adds, "_I so run as not at an uncertainty_," not as if I had lost sight of the mark, and were only half conscious of what I were about, but "_forgetting the things that are behind, and stretching myself forward to those that are before me, I pursue towards the mark, for the prize of the supernal vocation of God in Christ Jesus_." Is this the earnest way we follow out our vocation? Are we thus determined to win? {20} The Christian warfare requires careful preparation, drill and discipline. In respect to this, St. Paul compares us to professional boxers, and his description shows that these gladiators of the olden time took as much pride in their art, as our modern gentlemen of the prize ring. "_Every one that struggles in a combat, abstains from every indulgence; they, indeed, that they may receive a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible_." How earnest are these miserable prize-fighters after their belt, and their stakes! How patiently they submit to all the rules of their training-master during their long and painful course of training! What abstinence from food, from indulgence in drink, and all luxurious living, in order to reduce their bodies to the most athletic proportions! What long walks under heavy weights! What fatiguing exercises to harden their muscles! Oh! that we were half as earnest, with heaven for a prize, and all our eternity at stake! We should be sure of victory then. {21} St. Paul was in earnest. "_I so fight_," said he, "_as not having to beat the air, but I chastise my body, and bring it into subjection, lest, perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become reprobate_." We have seen now, how, after his conversion, St. Paul set about the first great business before him--his own salvation. Let us look at him now as an Apostle, engaged in gaining souls to God, and in guarding the flock of Christ intrusted to him. Ah! my dear brethren, here must I be brief. I dare not make any further demands upon your patience. And, besides, who can draw the lineaments of that great Apostle, or paint him in colors worthy of his character? What memory can trace out those long and frequent journeys, with the incessant fatigue of preaching, disputing, and writing, with the "care of all the churches" upon his hands. And yet, not to burden his brethren, he maintained himself in good part by manual labor. What language is gentle enough, and warm enough, to represent that tender and sensitive heart that throbbed in sympathy with all the joys and woes of the Church, and burned with every scandal? {22} "_Who is weak,_" said he, "_and I am not weak? Who is scandalized, and I do not burn?_" Who can estimate the depth and fulness of that fraternal love, which made him willing to part even with his own hopes of heaven, so it could be done without offence to God, in order to save his brethren? "_My conscience bears me witness in the Holy Ghost that I have great sadness, and continual sorrow in my heart, for I wished myself to be an anathema from Christ for my brethren_." This is the nearest approach to the love of the Saviour for us, who bore our sins upon the bitter cross, who died that we might live, becoming an anathema for his brethren. Oh! holy zeal for souls! how beautiful it shows in the person of an Apostle like St. Paul! And what an example it is for those of us who are in the sacred ministry. We, too, have a share in his Apostleship; we are charged with the preaching of the Gospel, and the gathering in of souls. We have pledged ourselves to this holy work of duty and charity. Woe to such among us as are not in earnest! Joy to him who, when his Lord comes, shall be able to give a good account of his stewardship! {23} But you, my dear brethren, have also something to learn from this burning zeal of St. Paul's. You have all something to do with the advancement of your Master's kingdom, and the salvation of souls. When God created the human race, so we read in the Book of Ecclesiasticus, he made each man responsible, in some measure, for the welfare of his fellows: "_Mandavit illis unicuique de proximo suo_." and there is still a closer and dearer bond which embraces all the members of the great Catholic Church, and holds each one pledged to labor for the salvation of all. Ah! brethren, do not say with the murderer Cain: "_Am I my brother's keeper?_" What have I to do with the sanctification or ruin of souls? No! no! but take to heart your Master's cause. He came into the world to save sinners. Teach your heart to throb in sympathy with his, until you can say with St. Paul: "_Who is weak, and I am not weak? who is scandalized, and I do not burn?_" This is to love our Lord in earnest. This is the communion of saints. {24} We have traced this distinguishing characteristic of the great apostle--this earnestness of his--through his entire career. It only remains now to witness the close of that career. St. Paul died like a man who had lived in earnest, and for whom therefore death has no terrors, "_For me to live,_" said he, "_is Christ, to die is gain_." Is it possible that any fear of death, any doubt of his salvation could cloud the spirit of such a man in the closing scene of his career? Listen to his parting song of triumph! It comes from his prison at Rome, just upon the eve of his martyrdom. He has still before his mind's eye the combatants and runners in the public games. "_The time of my dissolution is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course; I have kept the faith. For the rest there is laid up for me a crown of justice, which the Lord the just Judge will render to me at that day_." Could we say as much, my brethren, if our time were come? Could we claim as manfully to have fought a good fight? Could we claim our reward as confidently? No? Then, alas, we have not been so much in earnest. We have been playing with our salvation, not wrestling for it; we have not been fighting for our faith with the world and Satan, but compromising; we have been resting not running; and if so, what hope have we to reach that crown? {25} Oh, let us bestir ourselves! Let us live like men awake; so let us think, so speak, so act, so move, through this brief but solemn crisis of life, that all who see us may know that, like St. Paul, we are in earnest. --------------------- {26} Sermon II. Unworthy Communion. "He that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh judgment to himself, not discerning the Body of the Lord." --1 Cor. xi., 29. (From the Epistle for Thursday in Holy Week.) It is customary at certain seasons of the year, for separated members of a family to meet and dine together, as a means of cherishing that affection for one another which we look for among relations. Thanksgiving Day and Christmas are occasions of this kind. The Catholic Church, too, is a great family, and the Paschal Season is such a time with her. She calls her children around her altars, to receive the Body and Blood of her Lord, who is the blessed bond of their union, and of their love. {27} But as in the parable of the rich man's supper there was found one at the table who had not on the wedding garment, and was cast out; therefore the Church warns us at this season, to prepare for the Paschal Feast, that we may not be found unworthy. And to the same end she calls upon us to keep this season of penance, beforehand. In the Church's name, then, and in charity to yourselves, my dear brethren, I am going to lift up my voice this morning, against unworthy communions. But first, I must tell you, that I do not mean unworthy, in the sense of communions made without profit: as for example, when one makes but little preparation beforehand, and thinks little of what he is doing at the moment, and makes but the poorest sort of thanksgiving afterward. No; compared with such as I mean, these communions are precious and holy. They do but little good to those who make them, it is true; and give but poor honor to God; but at least they are made in the state of grace. By an unworthy communion, I mean one that is made in known mortal sin. I mean a sacrilegious communion. {28} I shall speak, then,-- 1. Of communion in itself. 2. Of unworthy communions. 3. Of those who are guilty of them. I.--_What is Communion?_ It is the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, given to us as food for the sanctification of our souls and bodies. "_He that eateth my Flesh, and drinketh my Blood, hath everlasting life, and I will raise him up at the last day._" [Footnote 1] [Footnote 1: St. John, vi., 55.] What is Holy Communion? It is to receive the best of friends, who comes to advise us, to cheer and to encourage us. A friend who has power to protect us. Who loves to dwell in our hearts as in a castle, where He may fight for us against the enemies of our soul. What is Holy Communion? It is a pledge of Heaven, and a foretaste of it. Union with God by a perfect love, will be our happiness for all eternity, and this is begun on earth in Holy Communion. As St. Peter says, it is to be made "partakers of the Divine nature." [Footnote 2] [Footnote 2: 2 Peter i., 4.] What is Holy Communion? It is the parting gift of one who loves us better than our mother. He chose the time when He was about to leave us, to give it an additional value. {29} He made it the memorial of His Passion. As in times past, He had given the rainbow as a perpetual remembrance of His mercy, so He willed that the Blessed Sacrament of His Body and Blood, should be a perpetual remembrance of the redemption of the Cross, "_Do this in remembrance of Me_." What is Holy Communion? It is the best of all the good gifts of our good God. II.--_What then is it to receive this Holy Communion unworthily?_ It is to be grievously wanting in reverence to the holiest of all holy things. When you see a person put a thing to an improper use, what do you say? Why, that is too bad; you say. Why, you must be out of your head. Suppose you saw a girl in service, scrubbing the floor with a beautiful camel's-hair shawl, what would you say? Suppose you saw me filling the water stoups at the door, and for that purpose dipping out the holy water, from a pail, with the very chalice I had just used in Mass, what would you say? Why, you would exclaim, how very shocking! what an irreverent Priest! {30} Now why would you say this? Because when God made your soul, He put into it a reverence for certain things, above others. But what does an unworthy communion do? It does this. It takes the Blood of Christ, and pours it down a sink that is more loathsome than a city sewer, for what is so loathsome to God, as a soul in mortal sin? Corruption of matter is good, for God made it, but moral corruption is an abomination to Him. This one does who conceals a mortal sin in confession. What is an Unworthy Communion? It is to crucify Jesus over again. What does St. Paul say? "_They who have tasted of the Heavenly Gift and are fallen away, crucify to themselves the Son of God, and make a mockery of Him._" Now, which is worse, to leave off keeping a man's company, or to play the false friend with him? But this a man does who receives Holy Communion unworthily. The spirit of his act is as if he went up to the throne of God, and caught hold of those Blessed Hands and Feet, and said, "come down to earth and be tormented once more." He would pull off the crown of glory from that Blessed Head, and press down again upon that Brow the crown of thorns. {31} Nay, it does even worse than crucify Jesus over again. His first crucifixion was a willing one. It was His own love that was the real executioner; but now He is dragged against His will. This is what a man does who gets his absolution on the strength of some promise which he does not intend to keep. What is an Unworthy Communion? It is to eat and drink one's own damnation. What does St. Paul say again? "_He that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh judgment to himself_." The wood of the cross drank in the Blood of Christ, and was sanctified; and here is a soul that has drunk it in, and is damned. The Centurion was sprinkled with it, as he was piercing the side of Christ with a spear, and it made a Saint of him; but here is a Christian soul, that is damned for being bathed with it. It cleansed the robber's conscience who was hanging beside his Lord, and pleaded mercy for him; but on this soul it cries for vengeance, like the blood of Abel, against another Cain. {32} "_Better_," said our Lord, "_had it been for that man, if he had not been born;_" but now, he has anticipated the Day of Judgment upon himself. This a man does who gets his absolution upon the promise of breaking off from a bad companion, which promise he does not mean to keep. I repeat, then, they make unworthy, sacrilegious communions, for instance, 1. Who conceal mortal sins in confession. 2. Who get their absolution on the strength of their promising what they do not intend to perform. But what am I saying? Surely no one before me has been guilty of this! Well, God only knows. It has been done elsewhere, and may have been done here, for alas, unworthy communions are not such very uncommon things. In case it has been so, I wish to strike terror into such consciences, and to bring them to penance. I wish to prevent such a misfortune, in the parish of St. Paul's, as one coming to the Paschal Feast of the Lamb without his wedding garment. {33} III. _Who has done this?_ As our Lord sat at the table with His Apostles, at the Last Supper, he said sadly, "_One of you shall betray Me._" Each in turn, asked Him eagerly and earnestly, "_Lord, is it I?_" No, Peter, I foresee that you will deny that you know Me. That you will even swear that you do not. That you will even do this several times; but no, it is not you who will betray Me. "_Lord, is it I?_" No, Thomas. You will run away for fear at my death, though you said you would die with Me. You will not believe My word that I am risen, and that I am your Lord, until you put your hand in the prints of the nails; but no, it is not you who will betray Me. "_Lord, is it I?_" No, John. You shall be beside Me at the Cross. I mean that you shall have the charge of my mother; oh, no, I do not mean you! "_Lord, is it I?_" Thou hast said it, Judas. I made you an Apostle, a pillar of my Church. I called you out of the world, and took you to my bosom, as a dear friend. You have gone in and out, and eaten and drunk with Me. Nay, you have just received My Body and Blood, and all the while you hold the thirty pieces of silver for which you have betrayed Me. {34} Now, then, I think I hear you say to me: Father, have I then done this horrible thing? _Is it I? Is it I?_ No, my good man. You have enjoyed for years your ill-got gains, but your health has gone now. Declining years have come upon you, and you are poor; you can never restore them again. Your communions are not unworthy for this. But as for you, young man, why have you presumed to come to the altar? Where are those thirty pieces of silver for which you sold your soul? You promised in confession that you would restore them, but why? that you might get your Easter Communion. In your heart you said, Perhaps I will, some day, and all the while, you knew that no absolution is valid without the will to restore, or actual restitution when one is able; and you _were_ able. _Father, is it I?_ No, poor fellow. You forgot to mention in your last confession, a very grievous sin, and only remembered it just after you had left the altar. Do not be troubled. You tried your best to examine your conscience, but this escaped your memory. {35} It was forgiven with the rest. But what have you to say for yourself, O drunkard? You did not leave out one of your many nights of debauch; but what of that solemn promise to keep from liquor for so long a time, which you have already so often broken, as you had no intention of keeping it? You have drunk in damnation with your liquor, and deeper damnation with your communion. _Father, is it I?_ No, poor girl. You should have known better than to have trusted yourself to a deceiver with his jewels and wine; but you have done penance. Your sobs in the confessional have spoken for you. Your communion, though so soon after your confession, was good. But what have you to say for yourself, O adulterer, and adulteress? You, O adulterer; you found a home where there were smiles, and fondness, and peace; and what have you done? You have made it a home of jealousy and strife. You have put estrangement between two hearts whom God joined together, and said, "let no man put asunder." You have robbed a fellow man of one of his most sacred rights given him in the face of the Church. {36} And you, O adulteress, why have you come here? Our Lord said to Judas, "_Friend, why hast thou come? dost thou betray the Son of Man with a kiss?_" You knelt here at the altar-rail, and as the Priest said to you, "The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve thy soul unto everlasting life," you put up your lips, and said, like Judas, Hail Master! and you kissed our Lord. Oh! where was the Angel of the Blessed Sacrament then? An Angel was placed at the gate of Eden with a flaming sword to keep guard over the Tree of Life. Oh! where, I ask, was the Angel of the Blessed Sacrament? Where was His guardian who said of Himself, "_I am the bread that cometh down from Heaven, of which whosoever eateth, he shall live forever!_" Preserve thy soul unto everlasting life, indeed! It has prepared you for the everlasting burnings; for the flames that shall never be quenched. You went to confession, you say! Yes, I know you did, and you concealed your sins of shame. You have added to these one of sacrilege. And you, O slanderer, who have robbed your neighbor of his character, by your lies and calumnies which you have never told in confession, or if you have, which you never intend to repair at the price of your own dishonor! {37} You have been drinking in your own judgment with the Blood of Jesus. Jesus, judgment! Jesus, damnation! Why St. Bernard said, the very name of Jesus "was music in his ear, honey in his mouth, and joy to his heart." Jesus, damnation! Why St. Gabriel said "_He shall be called Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins._" O cruel perversion of sin! to turn sweetness into bitterness! But what does God say of such as these? "_When you stretch forth your hands, I will turn away My eyes from you and when you multiply prayer, I will not hear for your hands are full of blood_." [Footnote 3] [Footnote 3: Isaias i., 15.] Let me tell you a fact that a Jesuit told to one of our Fathers. A young man in the neighborhood where he lived, was heir to a large estate, which he was to receive at twenty-one years of age, on the condition that at that time he frequented the Sacraments. He turned out to be very wild and given up to sin. Near the end of his twentieth year, he was reminded of the danger of his losing the estate. {38} Never fear, said he, I'll easily manage that, and at once he began to lead outwardly a very correct life. He was now seen at Mass. He kept out of society, and public places of amusement. Within a short time before his birthday, he went to confession; and the morning came, when he was seen to go up to the altar-rail for communion. The Priest placed the Blessed Sacrament on his tongue, and had turned back to the altar, when he heard a frightful shriek, and the words "My tongue! my tongue! it has burned my tongue!" When the Priest returned to him, he said, "Oh Father, forgive me, my confession was bad, I had been in the secret commission of mortal sins which I purposely concealed. I had no wish to forsake them, but only to secure my property; oh Father, I repent, absolve me before I die!" The Priest took the Blessed Sacrament from his tongue, and with much difficulty consoled him with the promise of pardon. He made a good communion soon after, and was put in possession of his estate, which he sold, and gave to the poor, and in penance for his sins, doomed his false tongue thenceforward to perpetual silence. {39} Tremble, then, dear brethren, at the thought of so grievous a sin. For such as are guilty of it, there is but one thing to be done. Come back to God with sorrow, now in this time of penance, for, "_thus saith the Lord; if your sins be as scarlet they shall be made as white as snow; and if they be red as crimson they shall be as white as wool_." [Footnote 4] [Footnote 4: Isaias 1, 13.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Isaias i., 18.] Confess your sacrilegious communions. Go and repair the scandal you have given. Restore the goods you have stolen. Abandon the companions of your guilt. Do this, and there will be joy before the Angels of God, and with the Priests to whom you may confide your conscience. If, in spite of all I have said, you live on with the guilt of an unworthy communion, eternal woe will be your portion; from which may God in His mercy deliver you, and all of us. AMEN. ------------------ {40} Sermon III. Christ's Resurrection The Foundation Of Our Faith. "And when the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, brought sweet spices." --Mark xvi., 1. (From the Gospel for Easter Sunday.) On this day, the bosom of the whole Church swells with exultation. After the penance of Lent, after the mourning of Holy Week, the countless disciples of the crucified and risen Saviour, take up and echo through the whole earth the joyful cry--Christ is risen! He is risen indeed. For this is the day on which Jesus Christ, bursting the bonds of the sepulchre, triumphed over death. {41} This is the day which, more than any other, enlivens our faith, strengthens our hope of eternal salvation, and causes our hearts to bound with spiritual joy. Even the coldest and most indifferent Christian feels his bosom warm with some faint sentiment, at least, of devotion on this day, and remembers with pride that he bears the name and professes the faith of Jesus Christ. This is right and proper. For all the doctrines of our religion are centred in the resurrection. All our hopes are based upon it. The Resurrection is the grand Fact of Christianity. It is the proof of the Divinity of Jesus Christ; it is the seal of God which makes the documents of our faith authentic; it is the cause and the pledge of our final resurrection and eternal happiness. This accounts for the joy which swells every true Christian bosom, on this day. For, my dear brethren and I beg you to note it well--the source of our hope and of our joy is in our faith. It is the certainty of faith which banishes all doubt, wavering, hesitation and gloom from the heart of a sincere and fervent Catholic. The faith of the Resurrection must be firmly planted in our minds, if we would have the hope of the Resurrection, and the joy which springs from this hope, bright and glowing in our hearts. {42} Let me therefore ask your attention this morning, while I endeavor to show you what a firm and and immovable foundation we have for our faith, in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. And in doing so, I will endeavor to establish these three points: _First_.--That Jesus Christ appealed to his future resurrection, while he was yet alive, as the proof of his Divinity. _Second_.--That He actually raised himself from the dead, as he had predicted, and, _Third_.--That the Resurrection of Christ proves his Deity, and with it, the entire Catholic faith. May the grace of the risen Saviour increase our faith, through the intercession of Mary, whose faith never wavered for an instant, even beneath the Cross of her Son! I. Jesus Christ asserted frequently and clearly to the Jews, that he was God, and required them to believe him. So his disciples understood him, who believed; so the Jews understood him, who did not believe, but accused him of blasphemy and condemned him to death. {43} The great sign, the miracle, the proof, to which he appealed to justify this declaration, was his resurrection on the third day after his death. He declared himself to be the proper and only begotten Son of God. He that does not believe this, he says, "_is already judged, because he believeth not in the Name of the only-begotten Son of God._" [Footnote 5] [Footnote 5: John iii., 17.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is John iii., 18.] This title of only-begotten which he gives himself, shows that he does not merely claim to be a child of God by grace and adoption, but by nature. This nature he declares positively is not his human nature, but distinct from it, that it came from heaven, and was in heaven as well as on earth. "_No man hath ascended into heaven, but he that descended from heaven, the Son of Man who is in heaven_." [Footnote 6] [Footnote 6: John iii., 13.] He confesses that he is man; but asserts that he is more than man, that he came from heaven. He asserts also that this superior nature which is joined with his humanity is eternal. "_Before Abraham was--I am_." [Footnote 7] [Footnote 7: John viii., 58.] Not I was; but _I am_, the word by which God made known his eternity to Moses. And finally he declares that this super-human and eternal nature is identical with that of his Father, is the Divine nature itself. "_I and my Father are one_." [Footnote 8] [Footnote 8: John x., 38.] {44} His disciples who believed in him, understood him to teach his divinity. "_My Lord and my God_." [Footnote 9] was the expression of the faith of Thomas. "The Word was God," [Footnote 10] that of John. [Footnote 9: John xx., 28.] [Footnote 10: John i., 1.] So the Jews understood him, who did not believe. "_The Jews answered him: for a good work we stone thee not, but for blasphemy, and because that thou, being a man_, MAKEST THYSELF GOD!" [Footnote 11] [Footnote 11: John x., 33.] The Jews understood then perfectly well, that in calling himself the true, proper, and only Son of God, the Christ and Saviour of the world; and in working miracles, forgiving sins, and preaching salvation, in his own name, and by his own authority, and not as a mere prophet--he asserted his own true and proper divinity, and made himself God. {45} In support of this claim, Jesus Christ repeatedly appealed to his resurrection. He foretold his death; and declared that he would show himself to be the true Son of God the Father, having the same divine nature and the same divine power with him; by raising himself from the dead on the third day. "_The Son of Man shall be in the heart of the earth, three days and three nights._" [Footnote 12] [Footnote 12: Matt, xii., 40.] This was said to the Scribes and Pharisees who wished him to give them a sign which should prove him to be the true Christ. When he drove out the men who were trafficking in the courts of the Temple, the Jews said to him: "_What sign dost thou show unto us, seeing thou dost these things? Jesus answered and said unto them: Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up. But he spoke of the temple of his body_." [Footnote 13] It is remarkable that he does not declare that he will be raised to life by his Father, but by himself. "_I lay down my life that I may take it again. No man taketh it away from me, but I lay it down of my self, and I have power to lay it down and I have power to take it up again_." [Footnote 14] [Footnote 13: John ii., 18-21.] [Footnote 14: John x.. 17-18.] {46} These are only samples of the frequent and public declarations made by our Lord to the same effect. And it was so well known among the Jews that he had staked his entire cause on his resurrection, that they came to Pilate, immediately after his crucifixion, and said to him: "_Sir, we have remembered that that seducer said, while he was yet alive: After three days I will rise again. Command therefore the sepulchre to be guarded until the third day._" [Footnote 15] [Footnote 15: Matt. xxvii., 63-64.] Here, then, is the grand test of the truth of Christ's doctrine--the grand sign of his divinity; the public challenge which he gives to all his enemies. We have it on the testimony of the most desperate haters of his name and doctrine; the very men who nailed him to the Cross. They were resolved to prove his prediction false, to show that he could not, and would not, rise again, and thus to manifest him to the world as a seducer. At the sepulchre of Jesus Christ, then, is the trial of strength between them. The dead body of Jesus is on one side; the Jewish rulers, the Roman governor, and a strong watch of soldiers on the other. And Jesus Christ overcame; he actually did rise, as he had foretold: "_resurrexit sicut dixit;_" and all their precautions only served to furnish so many brilliant testimonies to the fact, that he had fulfilled his word. {47} II. Picture to yourselves, if you can, the scenes of those three memorable days! The Sun of Justice, the Light of the World, has gone down in darkness. Jesus Christ is dead; he is buried, and a great stone is rolled to the door of the sepulchre. The disciples are scattered here and there, buried in the most profound and bitter disappointment, consternation and grief. The multitudes have fled hastily from Mount Calvary, some beating their breasts with contrition, some blaspheming, but all in terror. The heavens are overclouded and black, the thunder moans, and an earthquake shakes the earth. The frightened inhabitants of Jerusalem, as they return to their homes, are met in the streets by the pale corpses of the dead, who have left their graves, and are wandering about among the living. In the temple, those wicked and unworthy priests are startled at the sudden tearing, by an invisible hand, of the thick and heavy veil which hangs before the Holy of Holies. An ominous stillness sinks over the city of Jerusalem after that dreadful, tragical day. It is the eve of the greatest Sabbath of the year. {48} The Sabbath morning dawns once more; all is apparently quiet, and God does not appear, to take sudden vengeance on his guilty people. Annas and Caiphas, and those other wicked priests who have sacrificed the Lamb of God, with their souls all black and turbid with remorse, but with a grim and diabolical exultation in the success of their horrid work, prepare themselves in splendid vestments for the sacrifices and the ceremonies of the day. The countless multitudes of Jews, gathered together from every part of the world to keep the Passover, crowd the vast courts of the temple. The disciples remain shut up, in silence and in fear. The Roman soldiers guard the shut and sealed sepulchre of Jesus. The day passes and the night, and nothing occurs. The first streaks of the dawn begin to appear in the sky on Sunday morning. The disciples have forgotten the promise of their Master to rise on the third day, and have lost heart entirely. Mary Magdalene, and the other pious women, have planned to steal out early to visit his tomb, and to bring their spices, and perfumes, and fresh flowers, to cast upon his dead body. {49} They set forth together; while still in the distance, they are frightened by the sight of torches and armed men in the garden. They have not courage to go on; and they remember that a great stone is at the door of the sepulchre, which will hinder their entrance. Only the courageous and loving Mary Magdalene has the hardihood to press forward at all risks, leaving the others hovering about in the neighborhood of the garden. As she approaches the sepulchre, she sees the stone rolled away to one side; she pays no attention to the soldiers who are lying on the ground, apparently stunned and insensible, but goes in, and the body of Jesus Christ is not there; his grave-clothes are lying in the spot where his body was placed, and an angel is watching the empty sepulchre. Bewildered and surprised, and occupied only with the thought that the body is gone, she runs hastily back to the place where John and other apostles are staying, tells them in breathless haste what she has seen, and without waiting for a reply, returns as speedily as possible to the sepulchre. {50} Meanwhile, during Magdalene's absence, the other women observing that the soldiers have left the gar-den, come also to the sepulchre, see the stone rolled away, go in, and find two angels sitting, one at the head, the other at the foot of the place where Christ was laid. The angels tell them that Christ is risen, and bid them go announce it to his disciples, and direct them to meet him in Galilee, as he had commanded them before his death. They now leave the garden to return to the city, and Magdalene arrives once more, and while these things are happening the sun has risen, the sun of the first Easter Sunday, the type of the Risen Sun of Justice. Mary Magdalene goes into the sepulchre again, and begins to weep, still too much occupied with the thought that the body of Christ is gone, to reflect on any thing else. She sees the angels; but to the questions: "_Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou?_" she answers distractedly, "_They have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him_." She turns around, and sees the figure of a man, whom she takes to be the gardener, and asks him where they have taken the body of Jesus. The well-known voice exclaims: "Mary!" She suddenly recognizes the Lord, and utters a cry of joy: "Oh, my Master!" {51} She tries to clasp him by the feet, but he forbids her, and bids her go, announce his resurrection to the disciples. She sets off immediately, and in a few moments Peter and John arrive, visit the sepulchre, and see that the body is not there. They also return to the city. Immediately after his interview with Mary Magdalene, the Lord appears also to her companions, while they are returning to their homes. He was also seen by Peter some time during the day. Toward evening he joins two of the disciples, who were going to Emmaus, a small village near Jerusalem, and explains to them the prophecies of the Scripture concerning himself, but is not recognized by them, until he blesses bread and gives it to them, and then disappears from view. So the day passes. First one arrives at the coenaculum, and relates his story, then another, then others; the day passes in comparing these different accounts, in conversing together, in expectation of what is going to happen. When night draws on, the apostles and disciples are gathered together for prayer; the two from Emmaus come in just then, and relate their interview with the Lord, when suddenly he appears among them, and says: "_Peace be unto you._" So passes this day. {52} The four Evangelists give no regular and methodical account of it. All these occurrences are related by some one or more of them; and I have strung them together in an order in which they might have happened, and which reconciles all the accounts with each other. Such is the narrative of the Gospel. Is it true? Did these things really happen? In regard to one fact, Christians, Jews and Romans were agreed. The body of Jesus Christ was removed from a closed and sealed tomb, guarded by Roman soldiers, by early dawn on the morning of Easter Sunday. It was removed either by Divine power, or by human ingenuity. The rulers of the Jews circulated the report, which they have repeated to this day, that his disciples came and stole him away, while the guard was sleeping. "What!" exclaims St. Augustine, "you will prove your cause by sleeping witnesses?" If they were asleep, they knew nothing of the way by which the body disappeared. And if they were awake to see the disciples steal it, why did they not kill them on the spot. {53} The guard were sleeping! A guard of Roman soldiers. Who can believe that? For a Roman soldier to sleep at his post was an extraordinary and most disgraceful thing, and here we have a whole band of them, with an officer at their head--sleeping. The punishment was death. In this case especially, no mercy could have been expected, where both Roman and Jewish rulers were so deeply interested in putting an end to the religion of Christ. How did they dare confess their sleeping, unless they were in connivance with the authorities, and bribed to repeat this story. Why was no trial held? Why were not these soldiers examined before a tribunal? Why was no search made for the body of Jesus, and for his disciples? Why is the whole matter hushed up by common consent between Pilate and Caiphas? There is only one possible supposition. And that is: that the soldiers saw the resurrection of the Lord--that they related it to their rulers, and that by bribes and threats their testimony was suppressed. I will not pause to accumulate arguments. {54} I will not speak of the impossibility that Jesus Christ should be able to predict that his disciples would attempt such an incredible task as the removal of his body, and succeed in it. I will not speak of their timidity, and their perfect want of all plan of action, all means of carrying out any project whatever; of their complete perplexity and helplessness; and of the utter madness of sacrificing all their worldly goods and their lives, to carry out a manifest imposture. These things are so plain, that reasoning only seems to weaken the effect with which they strike conviction to the mind at the first statement. I return to this simple fact, that the tale circulated by the soldiers, in common with Pilate and the Jewish rulers, is a complete and irresistible proof of the Resurrection. And there are evidences in abundance that it was so regarded at the time, that this incredible tale was only believed by the most stupid and besotted portion of the populace, and by those who knew nothing of the matter, except what they heard by vague rumors. We have the testimony of Tertullian that even Pilate was convinced of the truth of the resurrection, "Ea omnia super Christo Pilatus, et ipse pro conscientia sua jam Christianus, Tiberio renuntiavit." [Footnote 16] [Footnote 16: Apol., c. 21.] {55} Josephus, the Jewish historian, says of Christ, that "he appeared to them alive again, the third day, as the divine prophets had foretold." [Footnote 17] [Footnote 17: Antiq., Lib. xviii., c. 3.] Justin Martyr, a most learned Jew, and an eminent philosopher of the second century, who became a Christian, does not fear to assert boldly to the Jews: "You know that Jesus was risen from the dead and ascended into heaven, as the prophecies did foretell was to happen." [Footnote 18] [Footnote 18: Dial. cum. Tryph., p. 230.] The fact of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ was so evident, that it paralyzed for a time the efforts of the Jewish rulers to suppress his doctrine. And months elapsed, during which this doctrine made the most astonishing progress, before they dared to put a disciple of Christ to death. It was the manifest fact of the resurrection which caused the sudden and continuous growth and propagation of the Christian Church. Jesus Christ was far more powerful after his death than during his life. Not only did several thousand of the most sincere and pious among the Jews of Jerusalem and Judea, and of the strangers who had come to celebrate the Passover, embrace Christianity, but "_a great multitude of the priests also were obedient to the faith._" [Footnote 19] [Footnote 19: Acts i.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Acts vi. 7.] {56} Nicodemus, one of the most distinguished Doctors of the Law, and Joseph of Arimathea, a wealthy and powerful Jew, and a member of the grand council, who had previously been timid, and had abstained from attaching themselves openly to Christ, came out now publicly and announced themselves Christians. The centurion, or Roman officer, who commanded the soldiers by whom Christ was crucified, with the soldier who pierced the side of our Lord, and several other soldiers, were converted. The tremendous impression made by the resurrection of Christ on the whole Jewish nation, was the cause which gave the impetus to this movement. And it was the resurrection to which the apostles constantly appealed in proof of the divine character of Jesus Christ, and the truth of his doctrine. {57} III. Thus did Jesus Christ, by raising himself from the dead, as he had foretold, redeem his pledge, and prove himself to be God. Therefore the Scripture frequently speaks as if Jesus Christ were made the Son of God by his resurrection. "He was," says St. Paul, "_predestinated the Son of God in power, by the resurrection from the dead._" [Footnote 20] [Footnote 20: Romans i., 4.] That is, as St. Ambrose explains it--"He, whose deity was concealed in the incarnation, was predestinated to declare and manifest himself as the Son of God by his resurrection." During his life, he declared himself to be God, and promised to raise himself from the dead on the third day after his death, as a proof of his divinity. He did rise from the dead; and the resurrection is thus the grand proof of the central doctrine of the Catholic faith, the divinity of Christ, and not only of that, but also of every other doctrine connected with it and springing from it--of the Catholic faith complete and entire. It proves not merely the divinity of Christ, but the divinity of his words and of his acts. His words are words of divine truth; his acts are acts of divine power. The same Jesus who raised himself from the dead, said, "_This is my body--This is my Blood;_" and if we believe that he is truly God, we must believe that the Holy Eucharist is indeed his flesh and blood. {58} The same Jesus who proved his divine power by raising himself from the dead, transferred and delegated his power to St. Peter and his successors, when he said--"_Thou art Peter, and on this Rock I will build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it, and I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven_." It is in the Catholic Church that the testimony to the resurrection, commenced by the first apostles, is continued and passed down from age to age, by the unbroken succession of popes and bishops. The apostles were the witnesses of the resurrection. When the new apostle was to be appointed in the place of Judas, St. Peter said--"_One of these must be made a witness with us of his resurrection_." [Footnote 21] [Footnote 21: Acts i., 22.] The Catholic priesthood, as it were, joining hands with each other, run back in an unbroken line to the first fathers and founders of their glorious order, who saw the risen Saviour, and clasped the hands nailed to the cross. {59} Down this line has passed the uninterrupted, unbroken testimony to the resurrection. This day itself, the festival, Easter, is a grand monument of the resurrection. Every year, from this day back to the day on which Christ rose from the dead, the whole Christian Church has celebrated the resurrection of Christ on Easter Sunday. Thus we all join hands with our predecessors in past ages, until the long chain terminates in the little church of the disciples, gathered together in the coenaculum, to whom Christ appeared and said--"Peace be to you." And as we celebrate these joyous festivities, which carry us back to the very days of our Lord and his apostles, an electric shock of faith startles and reanimates our souls. Yes; this is the day of faith. It is the special festival of faith. The resurrection confirmed and renewed the wavering, sinking faith of the disciples. "_The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared unto Simon._" These words show how those fainting and almost despairing hearts revived on that day. Oh! wretched and miserable men, such as Pilate and Caiphas, and the besotted multitude, who did not, would not believe--or at least would not act on their convictions, and confess the truth! {60} Equally unhappy are those now, who have no faith; who do not believe in the Son of God; who do not await the resurrection of the dead; who believe in nothing, but pass their lives in miserable and endless doubting and unbelief. Equally unhappy are those who, though enlightened once in baptism, and brought up from childhood in the Catholic faith, are weak, wavering and hesitating in their faith; who neither believe or disbelieve; who dare not renounce their religion, and yet will not adhere to it firmly and profess it openly; but hang, as it were, in the outskirts of faith, and around the courts of the temple of Divine Truth. Equally unhappy are those who, believing firmly, deny their faith by their acts, and disobey the Lord whom they acknowledge to be their true God and their final Judge; who, on the day when Christ is risen from the dead, lie buried in the grave of mortal sin; who have no part in his life and grace, and have not received his Paschal sacraments. {61} But blessed are they who believe; whose hearts are full of faith, and whose works correspond with that faith;--into whose bosoms the Paschal joy has entered by the devout reception of the Sacraments of Penance and the Eucharist, and who can look forward with hope to the day of the general resurrection from the dead. For all such good Christians, this is the brightest, the happiest, the most glorious day of the whole year. All things sympathize with the joy of the risen Saviour. The earth breaks the icy bonds of winter, and starting from the state of lifelessness, awakes to new life and growth and freshness. The spring begins to appear, and the signs of approaching warmth and of the time of buds and blossoms and green foliage show themselves. The Church puts on her festal attire and sends up her joyous hymns, and solemnizes her splendid ceremonies. The faithful everywhere, leave their sins, do penance for their misdeeds, weep at the foot of the cross, reconcile themselves with God, and come with purified hearts to partake of the Paschal Lamb--the flesh and blood of the Divine Jesus, in the blessed Sacrament of the altar. {62} And while we go back in our thoughts to that day on which Christ arose, the first-begotten from the dead, all these external signs and ceremonies point also forward to that last Easter Sunday--that day of the resurrection of all mankind. The change and renovation of the earth in the season of spring, and the resurrection of souls by the Paschal sacraments, and the solemn celebration of Christ's resurrection, these are all types of that glorious morning when the redeemed human race shall start from its tomb; when the old things shall pass away, and all things, the heaven and the earth, and all things that are in them, shall be made anew. When the obscurity of faith shall give place to the light of glory, and the hope of salvation shall be changed into the beatific vision of God. {63} Sermon IV. Giving Testimony. "You shall give testimony of me." --John xv., 27. (From the Gospel for the 6th Sunday after Pentecost.) These words were spoken by our Lord to his disciples, before his departure from this world. He had chosen them from the beginning, and imparted to them a full knowledge of the truth, that they might bear testimony to it. "_All things whatsoever I have heard from my Father I have made known to you."--"I have chosen you, and have appointed you, that you should go, and should bring forth fruit, and your fruit should remain._" [Footnote 22] [Footnote 22: John xv., 15, 16.] {64} The disciples did give testimony. They labored in season and out of season in spreading the truths which they had learned from the lips of our Saviour. "_Their sound went over all the earth, and their words unto the ends of the world._" [Footnote 23] [Footnote 23: Rom. x., 18.] Their testimony was not only in sound and words: their lives testified to the truth which they preached. They suffered persecution, poverty, imprisonment, and sealed their testimony to the truth with their blood, by willingly laying down their lives for it. These disciples were true to Christ. Their testimony was faithful, loyal, heroic. We, too, are disciples of Christ, and have our testimony to give; and I propose to show in the first place, what are our obligations to give this testimony of Christ; and in the second place, who are those who fail in their obligations to give this testimony. What are our obligations to give testimony of Christ? There are many Christians who seem to think that they are at liberty to choose what course of life they please, that they can live as they like; that whether they attend to their religious duties or neglect them, whether they are patterns of Christian virtue or scandals to their faith, is nobody's business. {65} This opinion is false, most false, because all Christians are under a lasting obligation to Christ to lead a Christian life. Christ is our Lord and Master, and as such has a complete right of control over all our actions. There can be no dispute about this. "_You call me Master and Lord._" says he; "_You say well, for so I am._" [Footnote 24] [Footnote 24: 1 John xiii., 13.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is John xiii., 13. (Gospel, not epistle.)] Christ is not only our Master and Lord, but also our Creator, "_for by Him all things were made that are made_." His dominion over us is therefore absolute and supreme. In His presence we are simply subjects, and have only duties to fulfil. Christ as Man has the full right of purchase over us. He can claim of us all our actions, for he redeemed us from the captivity and slavery of sin. "_Knowing that you were not redeemed_," says the Apostle Peter to the faithful, "_with corruptible gold or silver from your vain conversation of the tradition of your fathers; but with the precious blood of Christ_." [Footnote 25] [Footnote 25: 1 Peter i., 18, 19.] {66} Can any one who listens to these words be so destitute of intelligence and faith as to entertain the idea, for a moment, that God created us and became man and died for us, only to leave us at liberty to live as we please, and to sin as much and as often as we like? No; says the Apostle Paul, "_Christ died for all._" And why? Listen, faithless Christian: "_That they also who live may not live to themselves, but to Him who died for them, and rose again._" [Footnote 26] [Footnote 26: 1 Cor. v., 15.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is 2 Cor. v., 15.] What is it to live to Christ? To live to Christ is, to live to please Him; it is to follow in His footsteps and copy in our lives His virtues. This is made clear from what the same Apostle says in another place, on the same subject: "_Our Saviour, Jesus Christ, gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a people, acceptable, pursuing good works_." [Footnote 27] [Footnote 27: 2 Titus ii., 14.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is: Titus ii., 14.] A Christian, then, is one who lives to Christ by keeping free from all iniquity and pursuing good works. This is the testimony that Christ requires of us, and which we are bound to give by every sacred obligation which binds us to Him as our Creator and Redeemer. {67} Another reason why we are under obligation to give testimony of Christ by leading an exemplary life, is that Christ came into the world not only to be our Redeemer, but also our Model. Hear him: "_You call me Master and Lord, and you say well, for so I am, .... and if I, then, being your Lord and Master have given you an example, as I have done to you, so you do also_." [Footnote 28] [Footnote 28: St. John xiii. 13, 14, 15.] For is there any one so uninstructed as not to know that it was wholly unnecessary for Jesus Christ to practise on his own account, humiliations, poverty, obedience, self-denial, meekness, and embrace the sufferings and bitter death of the cross. He practised these virtues in order to induce us to practise them, for these were due to us as punishment for our sins, and necessary for us as preservatives against our vices. God became man to teach men by example how they ought to live. "_Christ suffered for us,_" says the apostle St. Peter, "_leaving you an example, that you should follow his steps_." [Footnote 29] [Footnote 29: 1 Peter ii., 21.] He then is false and faithless to his obligations, who claims the name of a Christian, and does not follow in Christ's footsteps. No Christian, then, has the right to live as he likes, but is bound to live as Christ likes. {68} The Holy Church too, has a right to exact from us the obligation to lead an exemplary life. For as in a flock of pigeons, on seeing one fly all the others follow, so it is in the society of the Church, the good example of one member encourages and edifies the whole body. That you may understand the watchfulness and jealousy of our Lord over his flock, listen to his own language: "_He that shall scandalize one of these little ones that believe in me, it were better that a mill-stone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depths of the sea. ... Woe to that man by whom scandal cometh._" [Footnote 30] [Footnote 30: Matt, xviii., 6. 7.] The Church has not only the right to claim from us to follow in Christ's footsteps for the sake of believers, but also for the unbeliever. According to the words of Christ: "_Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father in heaven_." [Footnote 31] [Footnote 31: Matt, v., 16.] It is more by the testimony of a good example than by miracles, that unbelievers are brought to the light of truth. This is illustrated by the example of the martyr St. Lucien. {69} It is related of him by Surius, that he led many unbelievers to the knowledge of the truth and to embrace the Catholic faith, by the modesty of his life and his exemplary conduct. So powerful was the influence of his example, that the Emperor Maximilian, when seated upon his throne and about to condemn him to death, commanded that he should be kept out of his view, behind a veil, lest even the mere sight of the saint should change him into a Christian. Is it not then with good reason St. John Chrysostom says: "There would be no heathens were we such Christians as we ought to be. ... Paul was but a man, yet how many did he draw after him! If we were all such as he, how many worlds might we have drawn to us!" [Footnote 32] [Footnote 32: 1 Tim. Hom, x.] How was it St. Paul attracted so many to Christ? He tells us himself, in these words: "_Give no offence to the Jews, nor to the gentiles, nor to the church of God; as I also please all men in all things, not seeking that which is profitable to myself, but to many; that they may be saved._" [Footnote 33] [Footnote 33: 1 Cor. x., 31, 32.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is: 1 Cor. x., 32-33.] {70} It is clear, then, beyond all dispute, that every one who claims the name of a Christian is bound by a lasting and sacred obligation to give testimony to Christ by following in his footsteps, and consequently those who fail are guilty of robbing their Lord and Master of his rights, and are no true Catholics, but traitors to the faith. Who are they who fail to give this testimony of Christ? I will tell you. You will find many who were born of Catholic parents, were baptized in the faith when young, and yet never acknowledging the faith of their fathers, and of their baptism. They are not open apostates, they neither attack their faith, nor defend it when attacked. You might know them for years and not dream that they were Catholics. It is hard to tell what they really are. They are not Protestants, nor Jews, nor Turks, for these have religious convictions, and do not deny them, but the men I speak of either have no religious convictions, or want the manliness to acknowledge them. They do not like to be known as Catholics, and yet they identify themselves publicly with free-masons, odd-fellows, and similar secret societies. {71} Another class consists of those who confess themselves Catholics, but never, or very rarely, enter the Church. They take offence at the slightest irregularity, whether it be in the priesthood, or the preaching, or in the manner of conducting public worship; and under some such pretext they excuse their grievous neglect of worship, and their profound indifference to all the sacred duties of religion. These claim the name of Catholic, and their conduct is that of an infidel. A third class is composed of those who now and then on occasion of a jubilee or a mission, or some similar event, come to Church, and perhaps receive the holy sacraments. Their religion is like a fire in the straw, it soon dies out. Talk to these men of their business, and they will tell you that a man who does not watch and pay constant attention to it, will soon find himself bankrupt. Speak to them of the affairs of the nation, and they will tell you that the country is going to ruin, because its citizens neglect to attend political meetings and fail to approach the polls at election times. On business, or politics, on almost every thing but their religion, they reason correctly, and act like sensible men; on their duties to God and the affairs of their soul they appear to be as destitute of reason as they are of loyalty. Money is their God, and their religion is politics. {72} The fourth class is made up of the rank and file of sinners--cursors, drunkards, and the army of grog-shop keepers. These latter, under the pretext of making a living, spread more misery, wretchedness, and crime among our people, than all the plagues of Egypt brought upon the inhabitants of that land. The source of nine-tenths of the scandal to our holy religion is in the grog-shops; and to make the scandal of their vile and unlawful traffic more conspicuous, they congregate by preference in the neighborhood of a Church, justifying the well-known proverb: "Where God erects a house of prayer, Satan must have a chapel there." The grog-shop keepers are the worst enemies of our holy religion in this country, for they not only occasion the destruction of a vast number of Catholics, but by the disgust which their bad example creates, they offer the greatest hindrances to the conversion of non-catholics. {73} These are some out of the great number of those who fail to give testimony of Christ; for we have not the time to enumerate all. Now, what is very strange, and yet characteristic of all these, they appear to live as though they were unconscious of their obligations, and of the guilt which they incur. They seem to think that if they are allowed to assume the name of a Christian or Catholic, they are safe. Well then, asks one, why not exclude them from the Church altogether, so that the whole world can see what they are? This is the way we do away with unprofitable subjects in other institutions. Take, for example, a railroad corporation. Sometimes a company of this kind starts with great prospects. The number who travel on the road is prodigious. The stockholders congratulate themselves on a heavy dividend; when to their wonder, on reckoning up their accounts, they find the company running fast into bankruptcy. Investigations are made, and it is discovered that a large number of the passengers have been paying no fare, riding as "dead-heads." These being struck off, the corporation begins to prosper again. Not so with the holy Church. She is in this respect unlike all other institutions. She is likened by her Founder to a field of wheat, in which the enemy had sown cockle. {74} And when one of the servants said to the master: "_Wilt thou that we go to gather it up? and he said, no; lest while you gather up the cockle, you root up the wheat also together with it. Let both grow until the harvest; and in the time of harvest, I will say to the reapers, gather up first the cockle, and bind it into bundles to burn; but gather the wheat into my barn._" [Footnote 34] [Footnote 34: Matt, xiii., 28-30.] The time to cut off the faithless children, the "dead-heads" of the Church, is not now, but "in the harvest time," the day of general reckoning, when our Lord shall appear in power and majesty to judge the world. Then he will say to these: "I am your Lord and Master, why have you not obeyed me?" He will show them his wounds, and say: "Behold the price I paid to redeem you from sin! What right had you to refuse my service? I came upon earth to give an example that you might follow my steps, and you turned your back upon me! You were a scandal to the Church, and a stumbling-block in the way of others. You refused to give testimony to my mercy, now you shall give testimony to my sovereign justice. Gather up this cockle, these faithless, false, treacherous disciples," he will say to his servants, "and let their portion be in the pool which burns with fire and brimstone." [Footnote 35] [Footnote 35: Apoc. xxi., 8.] {75} Could but our voice reach the ears, and our entreaties penetrate the hearts of these guilty Catholics, we would lift it up and cry out to them: Do penance speedily! Repair by a good example the evil which your bad example has caused to your neighbor. Strive to gain more souls to Christ than your wicked life has lost to him heretofore. Let your good works shine out the more, so that like the servant of the eleventh hour, you may obtain the full wages of eternal life. As for you, dearest brethren, who have manfully withstood until now all temptations to be disloyal to your faith, whose lives, full of good works, have borne noble testimony to Christ, lift up your eyes and hearts to heaven at this season of our Lord's ascension. "_I go,_" he says, "_to prepare a place for you. I will come again, and will take you to myself; that where I am, you may be also_." [Footnote 36] [Footnote 36: John xiv., 2, 3.] ------------------- {76} Sermon V. Spiritual Death. "Behold! a dead man was carried out." --St. Luke vii., 12. (From the Gospel of the 15th Sunday after Pentecost.) What a touching occasion was this, in which our Blessed Lord was pleased to manifest his power, and perform one of his many acts of infinite mercy; an act, which like all his miracles, was not only full of loving-kindness to those for whom it was performed, but also replete with spiritual instruction for all. A widow is bereaved of her only consolation, a son, in whom were centred all her hopes, in whose happiness all her own was bound up; the pride of her eyes, her joy in adversity, and the sunshine to her poor heart in the cloudy days of sorrow. {77} Perhaps, too, he was her only support; his the arm which labored for their daily bread, and she looked forward to the time when age and gray hairs should bring infirmity, and her enfeebled body tremble on the verge of the grave; then would he be the light to her dimmed eyes, and a guide to her tottering steps. And now, alas! he is gone! Is the world all dead? Is it always night? Do the birds sing no more? Are the earth and sky all wrapped in a great, gloomy mantle of grief? Where is her heart, does it beat no more? Ah! so it is indeed to her. How she watched him in the long hours of his racking pains, his burning fever. At times he did not know her; _her_, his own dear mother. Oh! how she prayed for him. Oftentimes, as he lay upon his dying bed unconscious, she would kneel down beside him, and take his thin wasted hand in hers, and lift up her streaming eyes to God, the Father of the fatherless, and pour forth her soul in an agony of supplication, beseeching Him to spare her only son, her life, her all. {78} In vain. That hand grows cold within her grasp; those eyes, which erewhile were so full of expression, have assumed a dull glassy unmeaning stare, there is one shuddering convulsion, the breathing ceases, his jaw drops, and she is a broken-hearted, childless widow. That body, once so cherished and tenderly cared for, must soon be removed far away out of sight, and now, amid the lamentations of a sympathizing multitude, they carry it to the grave. She feels her loss so keenly that the very carriers of the bier seem to her to be heartless and unfeeling. Thus the scene in the Gospel opens: "_Behold, a dead man is carried out_." I know that poor widow. I have seen that dead man, her only son, the cherished idol of her heart, many a time. I know well those bearers, and they are assuredly most heartless and unfeeling. I have seen the Lord stop them on their way, as they carried him to the portals of death and hell. Would you know who they are? Sinner! offspring of Holy Mother Church, part and parcel of her own life, who by sin hast lost the life of grace; it is thou! Behold thou art the dead man who is carried out. Contemplate thyself as in a mirror in this example from the Holy Gospel. {79} The Church has done for you all, aye, and more than this poor widow did, or could do, for her only son. She has given you a noble birth in Jesus Christ. She nourished you, watched over, and cared for you, in your infancy. She flattered herself, poor mother, that you would do honor to her one day; she looked forward to the time when you would become her support. She was so bound up in you, that she often exclaimed with a truth, "Why do I live if it be not for my child?" Her very occupation, her unceasing labors were for you. How proud she was to see you increasing in grace with God and men, your manly soul strong in virtue; your conscience bright and fair to look upon as the face of an angel, thrilling her maternal heart with gladness, as she beheld reflected there the lineaments of the sacred countenance of her Divine Spouse. Alas! that any thing so bright? and beautiful should ever know decay or death! Hear the sad story. Disease came. Sin entered into your soul, as does the insidious pestilence into the very marrow of the bones. And now the frightened mother looks with dismay upon your changed features. {80} You are becoming emaciated, your soul, starving in sickness, is no longer cheerful with the love of God. Although so haggard and so woebegone, there is yet the hectic flush of the fever of passion. At times in the height of that fever your mind wanders: you do not know her, _her!_ your own dear mother? So low has sin brought you, so far has sin abased you, that you have forgotten your noble descent and your glorious destiny. The crime of disobedience to the law of God has done its work, and that soul which once walked so proudly erect now lies completely prostrated. Oh! how that Mother Church prays for you! With outstretched arms to heaven she implores the divine mercy. "_Spare, O Lord, spare thy people, and give not thine heritage to reproach_." Leave me not alone without this only son of my heart, for whom Christ died! But you are in your agony now, and hear nothing. You are not moved to tears, as you would be, if you could but hear those agonizing prayers. {81} You lie indifferent to all around, while the disease fastens upon your very vitals: one sin after another, one temptation given way to after another, until the life-blood of your soul has frozen in its channels: and before your weeping, inconsolable mother, the Church--before God, and in sight of His holy Angels and Saints, you are dead! dead!! dead!!! Like the fruitless church of Sardis, in the Apocalypse: "_Thou hast a name that thou livest, but art dead_." [Footnote 37] [Footnote 37: Apoc. iii., 1.] What are the signs, my brethren, by which you would pronounce a man dead? Surely, that he has no longer the use of any of his senses; that he can neither see, hear, taste, touch nor smell. If nothing remained to him but faint breathing, and a fluttering, feeble pulse, you would already weep for him as lost to you, and consider it only as the matter of a few moments to draw the sheet over his face, and prepare his shroud. Now this is just the deplorable state of a man in mortal sin. {82} Let me illustrate this. If you saw a person walking upon a railroad track, and the train came thundering along directly in front of him, and yet he proceeded on his way, totally unmindful of your shouts and warnings of danger, you would throw up your hands and exclaim: "Ah! God have mercy on him, poor man; he must be totally blind and deaf--he is as good as dead." And so he is in effect; for the train passes over him, and scatters his mangled body hither and thither. Of what use to him was his power of motion? He had the name of a living man, and is dead. So death is coming upon you, sinner, sudden and destructive. How many sermons have you not heard upon that awful subject? How many warnings have you not had in the deaths, ever unlocked for, alas! too often unprovided for, among your friends, acquaintances, and in the very bosom of your family. You hear not, you see not; no warning will turn you from your fatal track. You are as good as dead. If you saw a young girl walking to the brink of one of those dreadful precipices formed by the lofty palisades on the North River, and, despite the cries of her friends, she continued her walk, gazing up at the sky, would you not say: "Ah! poor thing, she must be killed; she is as good as dead." {83} Oh, young woman, you are walking upon the brink of a precipice, by your dangerous familiarities, your late hours, your improper company-keeping; and despite the cries of your father, your mother, the pleadings of your friends, and the warning voice of your confessor, your heedlessness in sin will destroy you, body and soul, and you must lose reputation, honor, salvation, eternity. Deaf to the voice of God, you are as good as dead. Jesus daily prepares his divine banquet for you; but, alas! you have lost your spiritual taste for that heavenly food, and there is no life in you--you are dead; according to the words of the divine Saviour: "_Amen, Amen. I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you_." [Footnote 38] [Footnote 38: St. John vi., 54.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is: St. John vi., 53.] The Lord strikes you with afflictions of various kinds: disease, loss of friends, misfortune in your business. He sends his angel of death to your very doors; but you are insensible to his chastisements: they affect you no more than if you were a statue of marble. Is not this to be indeed dead? {84} "_You have put on malediction as a vestment, and it has entered like water into your veins, and as oil into your bones_." [Footnote 39] [Footnote 39: Psalms cviii., 18.] [Transcriber's note: Psalms cviii ends at verse 14.] Yes; corruption has commenced; you have become offensive as a corpse, of bad odor, and scandalous to the Christian community. The finger is pointed at you, your bad life is every where spoken of, but you do not believe it; like a corpse, you are not sensible of the disgust you excite. As the sister of Lazarus said to the Lord: "_It is now four days since he died, and already he stinketh_." Four days! Why, it is four months--four years--forty years, since _you_ died--since you committed mortal sin, and continued in it, oh! unrepentant sinner; and you have become insupportable. You have reaped the blasting curse you sowed: "_For he that soweth in the flesh, of the flesh also shall reap corruption_," the words of this day's Epistle. [Footnote 40] [Footnote 40: Gal. vi., 8.] Your dead soul is in the hands of the bearers, your companions in sin, your fellow cursers and blasphemers. The grog-shop keepers have got hold of you, and every step is a closer approach to the tomb, the gates of hell, the last home of fornicators, liars, and drunkards. {85} How insensible you lie in their hands! The multitude may weep, in company with your poor mother, piercing cries and sobs which are heard throughout heaven and hell, but make no impression on your dull ears. No! there is no sound [that] can wake you now, but the voice of Jesus Christ, or the last trump which will summon your guilty soul to judgment. Will that voice of Jesus Christ be heard? I know not. Will the Lord be moved to pity toward his weeping Church? I know not. Will he touch the bier upon which you are stretched stark dead, and command those companions of yours in sin to stop? I know not. Will Jesus arrest the steps of that infamous woman, of those debased, pitiless, heartless, unfeeling dram-sellers? (Did I not say that the widow was right--that they are heartless and unfeeling?) I know not. What I do know is that, if Jesus is not moved to pity, if he does not strike fear into the heart of that young man or woman, your companion in sin, if the arm of the vengeance of Christ does not fall upon that grog-shop keeper,--no other sound will waken you, so dead in sin, but that one upon the Last Day, which rather than to hear, it were better for you to sleep in eternal oblivion. {86} "Ah! father," you say, "that's dreadful doctrine." Yes; and there is something more dreadful about it. It is true. What saith the Apostle? "_It is impossible for those who were once illuminated and have tasted the heavenly gift, and are fallen away, to be renewed again to penance, crucifying again to themselves the Son of God, and making him a mockery._" [Footnote 41] [Footnote 41: Heb. vi., 4-6.] What does this mean but that, when one has fallen away into mortal sin, it is as impossible for him to do any thing toward the salvation of his soul, as it is for a dead man to raise himself to life. Lay it to heart--a most important truth--that Almighty God owes you nothing; is not bound, nor has he promised, to give you grace beyond a certain degree; while he has most emphatically warned the sinner that the time will come, and who knows--oh! dreadful thought--but that it has already arrived for you, when he will withdraw his countenance from you, and leave you to the fate you have chosen, and so justly merited. Every child has amused himself on the banks of the river or brook, watching the eddies caused by the meeting of contrary currents, and observing how the brown leaves which have fallen from the trees into the stream are suddenly caught in the circling current and whirled about, approaching at each revolution nearer the centre of it. {87} Now, we are told by travellers, that in the vast ocean there are powerful and dangerous eddies of this sort, called whirlpools; and that large ships, if allowed to sail within their influence, are drawn in, and carried round and round, no longer obedient to the sails or rudder, and at last are completely swallowed up in the yawning vortex of whirling waters. Oh! unrepentant sinner: you are the brown leaf, fallen from the tree of life into the water of iniquity. You are the ship which has lost its compass, and strayed within reach of the dizzy whirlpool. God stood upon the calm open sea, and each time that you came around he warned you of your danger. He did more; he sent strong and sufficient breezes of his holy grace; if you had taken advantage of them in trimming the sails, and putting up the helm, you might have escaped. {88} How many times did he not thus attempt your rescue: but you heeded him not. There was even something pleasant and intoxicating to be thus carried along in the powerful stream; and now you go faster and faster, nearer and nearer, until the yawning abyss opens upon your gaze, and you send forth a shriek for help, a cry of despair. But you are so dizzy that you cannot descry the form of God upon the sea. It is well; it would double your agony to see him now, for he has turned his back upon you; or worse, is mocking you, and laughs you to scorn. "_Because I called and you refused; I stretched out my hand, and there was none that regarded. You have despised all my counsel, and have neglected my reprehensions. I also will laugh in your destruction, and will mock when your fear cometh. When sudden calamity shall fall on you, and destruction as a tempest shall be at hand; when tribulation and distress shall come upon you; then shall they call upon me, and I will not hear_." [Footnote 42] [Footnote 42: Prov. i., 24-28.] {89} There is no help for you now. Your cries of distress, and prayers and entreaties are drowned in the thundering din of the rushing waters: as our Lord prophesied. "_Upon the earth distress of nations, men withering away for fear, by reason of the confusion of the roaring of the sea, and of the waves_." [Footnote 43] [Footnote 43: St. Luke xxi., 25.] What is that which is glimmering white like a sail upon the waves? Can it be a friendly ship coming to your rescue? Hark! Tramp, tramp, over land, over sea. Why does that sound send a shuddering thrill of horror through every nerve? 'Tis no sail. 'Tis a pale horse, and he that rideth thereon is Death. Tramp! tramp! over land, over sea! Oh! woe betide thee, wretched sinner; thine hour is come. One last cry, and the waters of iniquity have closed over you forever! Oh, God! have mercy on poor sinful men, and according to the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out their iniquities. If thy people Israel shall have sinned against thee, and thou in thine anger hast delivered them up into the hands of their enemies, and they return to thee with all their heart, and confessing to thy name shall come, and pray, and make supplication to thee, then hear thou in heaven, thy dwelling place, their prayers; and forgive thy people, and have compassion upon them, and help thy servants whom thou hast redeemed by thy precious blood. {90} What answer dost thou make, O dearest Lord?--"_He that heareth you heareth me_." [Footnote 44] [Footnote 44: St. Luke x., 16.] Thy words, O Jesus, are truth and life. Thou hast commanded thy priests, the ministers of thy word, to speak in thy name; to stand in the path of sinners on the way to destruction, and make thy voice to be heard, ("_Arise! thou that sleepest, and awake from the dead!_") as thou didst to the only son of the widow of Nain. "_Be not deceived,_" says the holy Apostle in the Epistle of this day. "_God is not mocked._" "_He that despiseth you despiseth me_." [Footnote 45] [Footnote 45: St. Luke x., 16.] In the name of God, then, obedient to the charge which I, although unworthy, have received from the Lord Jesus, I say unto you, arise! Arise from those disastrous habits of sin, which are dragging you down to death and hell. Abandon, once for all, those horrid haunts of vice and immorality. Put away all those obscenities, evil speakings, and cursings, from your lips; of the which I tell you, as has been already foretold you, that they who do such things, shall not obtain the kingdom of God. Young man, I say unto thee, arise! {91} Oh! wretched parents, whose miserable home is a very school of Satan to your hapless children; whose daily lives are as an open book before their eyes, every leaf of which is blotted and blurred with drunkenness and disorder--I say unto you, oh, wicked father, oh, slothful mother, arise! You, young woman, over whose head ruin and shame are hanging, arise! send that young man away to-night. You who have dealt out disgrace, dirt, delirium tremens, ruin, and the wrath of God, by the measure, to your poor fellow sinner, and upon whose guilty head will fall a double weight of woe--I say unto _you_, arise! turn to the Lord, and perhaps he will have mercy upon you. Do penance, do penance! and think not to say within your hearts: We have Abraham for our father; we have the Church for our mother--she will watch over us Catholics, and before it is too late, snatch us from the jaws of hell. I say unto you, sinner, you are deceiving yourself with a lie, and your supine indifference proves you to be of that un-happy number described in Holy Writ, who resisted so long to the Divine call, that, hardened in iniquity, God gave them over to believe a lie. {92} Thus, instead of your faith saving you, it will only be a surer cause of your damnation. Oh! you hope in the mercy of God. Poor soul! God, notwithstanding his mercy, permitted you to fall into your present deplorable state. Why shall he not permit you to fall into eternal death, which, howsoever terrible and hopeless, is not so bad, so evil after all, as your spiritual death: for so say the Doctors of Holy Church. "The punishment of sin is less than the guilt." Between spiritual and eternal death there is but a step--taken every day by one or another in this sinful world--and that is the death of the body; and if it happens to you to-day, without doubt, without remedy or resource, you will find yourself eternally lost; which may God avert from every one of you. Amen. --------------- {93} Sermon VI. The Love Of God. "And one of them, a doctor of the law, asked him, tempting him: Master, which is the great commandment of the law? Jesus said to him: Thou shall love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul and with thy whole mind." --St. Matt, xxii., 35-37. (From the Gospel for the 17th Sunday after Pentecost.) This doctor of the law had no good motive in asking his question. He was full of malice, and desired, not to learn any thing good himself, but to entrap our Lord. But God knows how to draw good out of evil. Though the lawyers intention was bad, his question was a good one; the very best question that he could have asked, and the answer to it one of vast importance to us, involving all our interests for eternity. {94} Let us to-day consider well the meaning of the answer given by our Blessed Saviour in the words of the text. In the first place, what does he mean by the love of God? and in the second, what degree of this love must we practise? What is the love of God, or in what does it consist? Many have a false idea of it. They think it is exactly the same as earthly love, the love of relations or friends. They know what that kind of love is. They exercise it without difficulty. Why? because it is spontaneous; it is a flowing out of the heart, an emotion or feeling. They cannot _feel_ the same love for God as for their friends, and therefore they conclude it is of no use to try to love God. They make a great mistake. God is a pure spirit, not to be seen, heard, or taken notice of by the senses, and therefore, in the very nature of things, He cannot always be loved with that same emotion or feeling that springs up in our hearts, without effort, toward our neighbors and friends of flesh and blood. Indeed God, considered as an infinite being, with all his vast and unlimited perfections, seems in some way separated from us and our thoughts, which makes a difficulty in feeling emotions of love to Him. {95} The essence of the love of God is not in emotion or feeling, but in our reason and will. Faith reveals Him to us, and we acknowledge Him with our reason to be infinitely wise and infinitely good, and worthy of all our love. The true love of God consists, then, in acknowledging Him with our reason to be what He is, and in the will to do that which is pleasing to Him. The other kind of love--of feeling--may accompany this true love of God or it may not. It is of no consequence whether it does or not. We have no right to expect it, for God will grant it just as far as He sees good for us and no farther. It will come, generally, as the result of habits of virtue, of a long course of action, in imitation of His holy perfections. We must learn to know Him and prize Him in order to feel love for Him. That this is the true idea of the love of God is clear from the Holy Scriptures. In the Gospel of St. John it is thus described: "_For this is the charity of God, that we keep his commandments_." It is not said: The love of God is in a delightful feeling that possesses one without any effort on his part. {96} That would be very pleasant and very easy. No; that is not said. But the meaning of what is said is, that the love of God is in the will and determination to keep his commandments. In another place it is said in plain terms: "_He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me_." As much as to say: If your mind and will are directed to me in such a way that you keep my commandments, don't be worried or afraid, you do most truly love me. Now this ought to console any one who really and truly wants to love God, for we see that it lies in his power to do so. He need not go into raptures of fervor. He need not fly in the air in an ecstasy. He need not see visions or work wonders. He need not practise extra ordinary fasting or austerity, or spend whole nights in prayer. He need only have a determination, let him feel well or ill, that he will honestly and sincerely act so as to be agreeable to God, and he loves Him. Let him go on acting in that way and he will soon love Him exceedingly, far more than any thing in this world. {97} Another argument that proves conclusively that this is the true love of God, comes from this very command of our Lord Jesus Christ: "_Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind_." The love of God is commanded. Now God commands nothing impossible, nothing, in short, which is very difficult to set about. As he is a God of infinite goodness and love, the bare idea of such a thing is wholly repugnant to right reason and common sense. If He had commanded us to exercise a sensible love--one of feeling--we might justly complain and say: I cannot fulfil it; that is a thing beyond my control. We have to set about a practical love--keeping his commandments, that is a business we can give our mind and attention to, as we would to farming, building, doctoring, or any other business. If a man will set about the business of practically acting according to the will of God, he will add every day to his stock of love and to his merit in heaven. This is a rich mine; it is inexhaustible; out of this mine is drawn the pure gold of charity to God, richer and more abundant than all the mines of California or Australia. {98} But what degree of this love must we exercise in order to obtain everlasting life? A high degree of it: not a low measure of it, but a large and liberal one if we would make our calling and election sure. Our Lord's answer to the question indicates that beyond mistake: "_Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and all thy soul and all thy mind_." That sounds strong; that sounds hard; words could hardly be put together to convey a stronger meaning. It would seem to mean that all our thoughts and desires and actions should be engrossed and taken up with God and eternity, so as to leave room for nothing else. This would indeed be hard, and it would be absurd, considering the order of things which God has established in the world. God created us to live in society and the most of us for society, to play our part in it, to bring up families of children--to put bread and butter in their mouths, and clothes on their backs. We cannot then abandon the world, and we must devote our attention to its affairs: we must give a reasonable attention to do them well, for the advantage of ourselves and those connected with us. What is the meaning, then, of loving with one's whole heart and soul and mind? {99} We must have our will and determination directed in the first place to God and to keeping his commandments, leaving every thing else to the second place. A man must be determined to keep God's commandments in spite of every obstacle, in spite of every temptation. He must be determined to keep them all, that is, at least, to avoid every mortal sin. He must be determined not only for the present, but so long as the breath is in his body. If he falls short of this, he does not love God with all his heart and soul and mind; he does not do what is necessary to obtain everlasting life, and he will not obtain it. It is required by God, as an essential condition to our salvation, that we should be habitually in the determination to keep free from every mortal sin. What can be more just? We acknowledge him as our Creator, and as infinitely wise and infinitely good. He is rightly our sovereign Lord and Master, and can command what he chooses--there is an equal obligation on our part to obey him. Is it asking much, that we shall be habitually obedient? Any thing short of this he could not require--we could not expect. Is it for Him to be dependent upon our moods and humors, finding us true to-day and false to-morrow? {100} Oh! you say, is that all that is required of us to insure our salvation--to keep clear of mortal sin? That is nothing new; we knew that all along; to go that far is not much; we can do that easily enough. Can you, indeed? Perhaps it is easy enough to avoid mortal sin for a time, when there is fervor, or particular grace, or little temptation; but is it easy to do so for one's whole life? Is it easy to do so when one's fervor is worn off, and distractions of all kinds occupy the mind, and when in this state strong temptations beset one? Who ever says this, shows that he has little knowledge of himself, and little experience in affairs of the soul. You may avoid sin a little while, but you will fall, as sure as you live, if your mind is not set against sin, actively and habitually, so as to turn away from it with horror in the moment of temptation. No; in order not to fall, our whole life must be directed toward God. The eternal truths, heaven, hell, death, judgment, must pass frequently through our minds and take up our thoughts. In the words of Scripture, we must keep our lamps trimmed, and well supplied with oil, lest they go out. {101} Our souls must be trimmed with holy meditations, and the oil of good works supplied in abundance must keep the flame of love to God burning brightly in our hearts, or else it will go out. It will fade away gradually for want of nourishment, until it is gone. We cannot keep clear even of mortal sin, unless we are thoroughly in earnest about it, and make a business of it. When our Lord says, "Love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart and thy whole soul, and thy whole mind," He means to say: Put your heart and soul in the business of your salvation. Make a sure thing of it by the energy and determination you apply to it. "_The children of this world are wiser,_" says the Lord, "_than the children of light_." All their prudence and skill is laid out to succeed in their business, to scrape together what they consider desirable for this life. If any thing like the same prudence and skill were exercised in serving God, salvation would be an easy thing. If you want to be saved, you must put your souls in it. You all know what the meaning of putting your souls in a thing is. {102} It is a saying used every day. 'His soul is in his business; his soul is in study; her soul is in fashion, in her family. How the poor girl at service, when she wants to please her mistress, puts her soul in her work! What delight she takes in having every thing clean and in order! When she gets a compliment for her skill or industry, what heartfelt pleasure it gives her! Her continual study is to please in every way. How the young man puts his soul in pleasure sometimes! Every cent he can earn is spent in the saloon, the circus, the theatre. Let him earn a little money, he breaks off work until it is all squandered. Sundays, holidays, all are consumed in his darling occupations of drinking and making merry. In his pursuit of pleasure, God, reputation, health, must all give way. Nothing is allowed to put any obstacle in his headlong career. So it is with the covetous man. Money is his sole delight. His heart is satisfied with the pleasure of hoarding it, the pleasure of getting more and more. He has more than he knows what to do with: that makes no difference. He wants still more. He has nothing to give away. He can't afford this, he can't afford that. {103} He has no time for amusement; business, mortgages, interest, that's all the amusement he cares for. Anxious and fretful for little losses, he wears out his life, and leaves his property for somebody else to spend, perhaps to be a curse to some worthless relation. He has put his soul in his money-bags. We see people every day whose souls are so taken up with the world, that they can't even give a thought to any thing that lies beyond it. They verify the words of Scripture: "_Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die_." that is, they would be glad to persuade themselves, if they could, that they have no souls, and are determined to act practically on these suppositions. Now, in the same way that these poor miserable creatures put their souls in business, pleasure, love of money, or worldly ease and comfort, put yours in the business of your salvation. Make it your study to please God. Don't say: how little can I do and get off with it? but, how much can I do? What opportunity, what golden opportunity offers, to do something to please God? {104} Ah! there are plenty of opportunities for all who wish to avail themselves of them. The poor man can strive to do his duty, by honest industry supporting his family, setting them a good example. He has a good deal to put up with, in the shape of poverty, sickness, cold, hunger, and fatigue. He can love God with his whole soul, by putting up with these things patiently. These things are his money, with which he may be sure of purchasing the kingdom of heaven. The rich man, if his soul is in his salvation, considers himself as God's trustee, not to dispose of the wealth God allots him as he pleases, but to advance His kingdom and the salvation of souls. He does not care so much for pampering his body, making a show, or heaping up riches for his heirs, but is satisfied with a competence and means enough to live according to his station; the rest he spends in promoting true and deserving objects of charity. He likes to imitate Jesus Christ in helping the poor and the sick, keeping a free bed in the hospital, sustaining institutions for the relief of orphans, the insane, and all who need it. He likes to help a deserving young man, when he finds one of the sort, to become a priest in the church of God. {105} He doesn't consider it entirely the business of the priest to build churches, wearing himself out to collect the means, and that from the hard earnings of the poor, but steps forth promptly, and takes his full share of the expense and the labor at tending such enterprises. When he finds a hard-working priest, zealous for souls, he will stand by him and work with him, only too thankful to get a chance to do something. In short, if we would make eternal life secure, we must have a spirit of self-sacrifice and devotedness, such as led the holy Martyrs to lay down their lives for the faith--such at least in kind, if not in measure. Oh! my brethren, how happy is the man who cherishes such a principle in his heart. He is not divided and torn asunder by a continual strife between good and evil. He is not a double dealer. He is not striving to serve two masters. God reigns in his heart, and peace prevails in it. Loss of property cannot take it away, for property is not the main thing in his soul. Neither can loss of friends. He has long been sensible that God is the only true unchangeable friend. Death cannot disturb it--for he is at peace with God, and doesn't fear death. {106} Oh! why have we not all this spirit? We acknowledge how beautiful it is. We cannot but regret if we have it not. Let us then try for it. Let us begin to-day--by forming a deep and strong resolution that we will not live for the world, or the things of the world, but seek God first of all. That we will really love Him with our whole heart, and that this shall be the business of our lives. Then shall be true of us what is said by the holy Psalmist: "_Blessed is the man who hath not walked in the counsel of the ungodly, nor stood in the way of sinners, nor sat in the chair of pestilence. But his will is in the law of the Lord and on his law he shall meditate day and night. And he shall be like the tree that is planted near the running waters, which shall bring forth its fruit in due season, and his leaf shall not fall off, and all whatsoever he shall do shall prosper_." Then all shall prosper with us here below, for all things shall speed our way to that world above, where, without effort, in a perfect manner, to our unbounded joy, we shall love God with our whole heart and soul, and mind, and strength. ----------------- {107} Sermon VII. Keeping The Law Not Impossible. "I can do all things in Him who strengthened me." Phil, vi., 13. If I am not mistaken, a very great number of the sins that men commit, are committed through hopelessness. The pleasures of sin are by no means unmixed. Indeed, sin is a hard master; and all who practice it find it so. I never met a man who said it was a good thing, or that it made him happy. On the contrary, all lament it, and say that it makes them miserable. Why then, do they commit it? Very often, I am persuaded, because they think they have no power to resist it. They feel in themselves strong passions; they have yielded to them in times past, they see that others yield to them, and so they come to think it impossible not to yield to them. {108} The law of God is too difficult, they say. It is impossible to keep it. It may do for priests or nuns who are cut off from the world, or for women, or for the old, or for children, but for us who mix in the world, whose blood is warm, and whose passions are strong, it is too high and pure. It is all very well to talk about; it is all very well to hold up a high standard to us, but you must not expect us to attain it. The utmost that you can expect of us is to stop sinning, now and then, and make the proper acknowledgments to God by going to confession, but actually to try not to sin, to keep on endeavoring not to sin at any time, or under any circumstances, that is impossible, or at least so extremely difficult that, practically speaking, it is impossible. Are there none of you, my brethren, who recognize this as the secret language of your hearts? Is there not an impression in your minds that the law of God is too strict? or at least that it is too strict for you, and that you cannot keep it? If so, do not harbor it. It is a fatal error. No: it is not impossible to keep God's law. It is not impossible to keep from mortal sin. {109} It is, I admit, impossible to keep from every venial sin, though even here we can do a great deal if we try. Such is the frailty of human nature that even the best men as time goes on fall into some slight faults, only the blessed Virgin having been able, as we believe, to pass a whole life without even in the smallest thing offending God. But it is possible for all of us to keep from mortal sin, at all times and under all circumstances. This, I think, you will acknowledge when you consider the character of God, the nature of God's law, and the power of God's grace which is promised to us. I say the character of God is a pledge of our ability to keep from mortal sin. God requires us to be free from mortal sin, and He requires it under the severest penalties, and therefore it must be possible for us. You may say, "God requires us to be free from venial sin too, and yet you have just said we cannot avoid every venial sin." But the case is far different. A venial sin does not separate us from God, and does not receive extreme punishment from Him--nay, those venial sins which even good men commit, and which are only in small part voluntary, are very easily forgiven--but a mortal sin cuts us off entirely from God, and deserves eternal punishment. {110} You know, one mortal sin is enough to damn a man--one single sin of drunkenness, for instance, or impurity; a cherished hatred, a false oath, or an act of grave injustice. One such sin is sufficient to sink a man in hell, and although we know very little in particular of the torments of hell, we have every reason to believe that they are most bitter, and we know that they are eternal. Now can it be thought that a being of justice and goodness, as we know God to be, would inflict so extreme a punishment for an offence which was unavoidable, or could only be avoided with the utmost difficulty? Holy Scripture sends us to an earthly parent for an example of that tenderness and affection which we are to expect from our Heavenly Father. "_If you being evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven, give good things to them that ask him_." [Footnote 46] [Footnote 46: St. Matt, vii., 11.] What would be thought of an earthly father who laid upon his son a command which it was all but impossible for him to comply with, and then punished him with the utmost rigor for not fulfilling it? {111} You would not call that man a father, but a tyrant; a tyrant like Pharaoh, who would not give straw to the children of Israel, and yet set taskmasters over them to exact of them the full measure of bricks as when straw had been given them. Why, if you were going along the street and saw a man whipping unmercifully an over-loaded horse, you would not bear it patiently. And would you attribute conduct so disgraceful among men to our Father in heaven? God forbid! Far be such a thought from us! It is not so. We must not think it. At least we cannot think it as long as we remain Catholics, for when the earlier Protestants proclaimed the shocking doctrine that though God punished men for disobeying his law, man was really unable to obey it, the Church branded the doctrine as a heresy to be abhorred of all men, as most false in itself, and most injurious to God. No; God loves his creatures far more than we conceive of. He does not desire the death of a sinner. He wills truly the salvation of all men. His goodness and mercy, his truth and justice, are all so many infallible guarantees of our ability to keep his law. {112} He would not have given us his law unless He had meant us to keep it. He would not punish us so severely for breaking it, unless our breaking it was an act of deliberate, wilful, determined rebellion. But there is another source from which I draw the conclusion that it is possible to keep the law of God--from the nature of the law itself. The law of God is of such a nature that, for the most part, in order to commit mortal sin, it is necessary to do or to leave undone some external act, which of its own nature it is entirely in our power to do or not to do. For instance, the law says, "_Thou shall not steal:_" now to steal you have got to put your hand into your neighbor's pocket. The law says: "_Thou shalt do no murder;_" to murder you must stretch out your hand against your neighbor's life. Nay, it requires ordinarily several external actions before a mortal sin is consummated. Thus the thief has his precautions to take, and his plans to lay. The drunkard has to seek the occasion. He seeks the grog-shop. Every step he takes is a separate act. When he gets there it is not the first glass that makes him drunk. {113} He drinks again and again, and it is only after all these different and repeated actions that he falls into the mortal sin of drunkeness. Now here you see are external acts--acts in which the hand, the foot, the lips are concerned, and which, therefore, it is perfectly in our power to do or to let alone. This requires no proof, but admits of a striking illustration. You have heard of the great sufferings of the martyrs; how some of them were stoned to death, others flayed alive, others crucified, others torn to pieces by wild beasts, others burned to death. Now what was it all about? You answer, They suffered because they would not deny Christ. Very well; but how were they required to deny Christ? What was it they were required to do? I will tell you. Sometimes they were required to take a few grains of incense and throw it on the altar of Jupiter; that would have been enough to have saved them from their sufferings. They need not have said, I renounce Christ; only to have taken the incense would have been sufficient. Sometimes they were required to tread on the Cross. Sometimes to swear by the genius of the Roman emperor; that was all. And the fire was kindled to make them do these things; but they would not. {114} The flames leaped upon them, but not a foot would they lift from the ground. Their hands were burnt to the bone, but no incense would they touch. The marrow of their bones melted in the heat, and forced from them a cry of agony, but the name of the emperor's tutelary genius did not pass their lips. Now will you tell me that you can not help doing what the martyrs would not do to save them from death? They had a fire before them and a scourge behind them, and they refused; and you say you cannot help yourself when you are under no external violence whatever! They died rather than lift a hand to do a forbidden thing; have you not the same power over your hand that they had? They died rather than utter a sinful word; have you not as much power over your tongue as they? Indeed you have, for you control both one and the other whenever you will. I say there is no sinner whose conduct does not show that his actions are perfectly in his own power. The thief waits for the night to carry on his trade; during the day he is honest enough. The greatest libertine knows how to behave himself in the presence of a high-born and virtuous female. {115} And even that vice which men say it is most difficult of all to restrain when once the habit is formed--profane swearing--you know how to restrain it when you will, for even the heaviest curser and swearer ceases from his oaths before the priest, or any other friend whom he greatly respects. Now, if you can stop cursing before the priest, why can you not before your wife and children? If you can be chaste in the presence of a virtuous female, why can you not be chaste everywhere? If you can be honest when the eye of man is on you, why can you not be honest when no eye sees you but that of God? But some one may say, there is a class of sins to which the remarks you have made do not apply, that is, sins of thought. You must admit that they are of such a nature that it is all but impossible not to commit them. No, I do not admit it. I acknowledge that sins of thought are more difficult to guard against than sins of action; but I do not acknowledge that it is impossible to guard against them. To prove this I have only to remind you that an evil thought is no sin until we give _consent_ to it. {116} To keep always free from evil thoughts may be impossible, because the imagination is in its nature so volatile, that but few men have it in control; but though it be not possible to restrain the imagination, it is always possible to restrain the will. In order for the will to consent to evil it is necessary both to _know_ and to _choose_, and therefore from the nature of the thing one can never fall into sin either inevitably or unawares. And besides, the will has a powerful ally in the conscience, whose province it is to keep us from sin and to reproach us when we do sin--so that it is scarcely possible, for one who habitually tries to keep free from mortal sin, to fall into it without his conscience giving a distinct and unmistakable report. And this is so certain that spiritual writers say that a person of good life and tender conscience, who is distressed with the uncertainty whether or no he has given consent to an evil temptation, ought to banish that anxiety altogether and to be sure that he has not consented. But suppose these evil temptations are importunate, and remain in the soul even when we resist them, and try to turn from them? No matter. They do not become sins on that account; nay, they become the occasion of acts of great virtue. {117} It is related in the life of St. Catherine of Sienna that on one occasion that pure virgin's soul was assailed by the most horrible temptations of the devil. They lasted for a long time, and after the conflict our Saviour appeared to her with a serene countenance. "O my Divine Spouse," she said, "Where wast thou when I was enduring these conflicts?" "In thy soul," he replied. "What, with all these filthy abominations?" "Yes, they were displeasing and painful to thee; this therefore was thy merit, and thy victory was owing to my presence." So that we see even here where the danger is greatest, the law of God exacts of us nothing but what in its own nature is in our power to do or not to do. But if you wish another proof of your ability to keep God's law, I allege the _power of his grace_. I can imagine an objector saying: You have not touched the real difficulty after all. The difficulty is not on God's side; no doubt He is good and holy. Neither are the requirements of his law so very hard. The difficulty is in us. We are fallen by nature. We have sinned after baptism. {118} We are so weak, so frail, that to us continued observance of the divine commandments is impossible. No, my brethren, neither is this true. It is not true from the mouth of any man; least of all from the mouth of a Christian. "_No temptation_," says the Apostle, "_hath taken hold of you but such as is human. And God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you are able; but will also with the temptation make a way of escape that you may be able to bear it_." [Footnote 47] [Footnote 47: 1 Cor. x., 13.] The weakest and frailest are strong enough with God's grace, and this grace He is ready to give to those that need it. At all times and in all places He has been ready to give his grace to them that need it, but especially is this true under the gospel. The Holy Scriptures make this the distinguishing characteristic of the times of the gospel that they shall abound in grace. "_Take courage, and fear not_," the prophet says, in anticipation of the time when Christ should come in the flesh, "_Behold God will come and save you. Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb shall be free; for waters are broken out of the desert, and streams in the wilderness. And that which was dry land shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water_." [Footnote 48] [Footnote 48: Is. xxxv., 4-7.] {119} Such was the promise, hundreds of years before Christ, of a time of peace, of happiness and grace; and when our Lord was come, He published that the good time had indeed arrived: "_The spirit of the Lord hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor. He hath sent me to heal the contrite of heart. To preach deliverance to the captive, and sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord_." Yes, the great time has come; the cool of the day; the evening of the world; the time when labor is light and reward abundant. Oh, my brethren, you know not what a privilege it is to be a Christian! You enter a church. You see a priest in his confessional. A penitent is kneeling at his feet. The sight makes but little impression on you, for you are accustomed to it, but this is that "_fountain_" promised by the prophet "_to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for the washing of the sinner;_" a fountain that flows from the Saviour's side, and not only cleanses, but strengthens and makes alive. {120} You pass an altar. The priest is giving communion. Stop! it is the Lord himself! the bread of angels! the wine of virgins! the food "_whereof if a man eat he shall live forever_." And not only in the Church do you find grace. It follows you home. You shut your door behind you, and your Father in heaven waits to hear and grant your prayer. Nay, at all times God is with you, for you are the temple of God, and He sits on the throne of your heart to scatter his grace on you when ever and wherever you ask Him. Do not say, then, Christian, that you are unable to do what God requires of you. It is a sin of black ingratitude to say so. Even if it were impossible for others to keep the law of God, it is not for you. He hath not done to every nation as he hath done to you. When the patriarch Jacob was dying, he blessed all his children, but his richest blessing was for Joseph. So God has blessed all the children of his hand, but you, Christian, are the Joseph whom He hath loved more than all his other sons. To others He hath given of "_the dew of heaven,_" and "_the fatness of the earth,_" but you "_He hath blessed with all spiritual blessings in Christ._" {121} Away, then, with the notion, that obedience to the commandments of God is impracticable. A notion dishonorable to God and to ourselves. It is possible to keep free from mortal sin--for all--at all times, under all temptations. Nay, I will say more. It is on the whole, easier to live a life of Christian obedience, than a life of sin. I say on the whole, for I do not deny that here and there in particular cases, it is harder to do right than wrong, but taking life all through, one who restrains his passions will have less trouble than one who indulges them. Heroic actions are not required of us every day. In order to be a Christian, it is not necessary to be always high-strung and enthusiastic. It is not necessary to be a devotee, to adopt set and precise ways, to take up with hypocrisy and cant--in a word, to be unmanly. It is just, for the most part, the most matter of fact, the most practical, the most simple and straight-forward thing in the world. It is to be a man of principle. It is to have a serious, abiding purpose to do our duty. {122} It is to be full of courage; not the courage of the braggart, but the courage of the soldier--the courage that thrives under opposition, and survives defeat, the courage that takes the means to secure success--vigilance, humility, steadfastness and prayer. Before this, all difficulties vanish, and this is what we want most of all. It is amazing how little courage there is in the world. We are like the servant of Eliseus, the prophet, who, when he awoke in the morning, and saw the great army that had been sent by the King of Syria to take his master, said, "_Alas, alas, alas, my lord; what shall we do!_" But Eliseus showed him another army--the army of angels ranged on the mountain, with chariots of fire and horses of fire, ready to fight for the servants of God, and he said, "_Fear not: for there are more with us than with them._" [Footnote 49] [Footnote 49: 4 Kings, vi., 15-17.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is 2 Kings, vi., 15-17.] Why should we fear? Christianity is no new thing. The path of Christian obedience is not an untried path. Thousands have trod it and are now enjoying their reward. God, and the angels, and the saints, are on our side. And there are multitudes of faithful souls in the world who are fighting the good fight, and keeping their souls unsullied. {123} We cannot distinguish them now, but one day we shall know them. Oh! let us join them. Yes, we will make our resolution now. Others may guide themselves by pleasure or expediency; we will adopt the language of the Psalmist: "_Thy word is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my paths_." [Footnote 50] [Footnote 50: Psalm cxviii., 105.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Psalm cxix., 105.] We will be Christians not in name, but in deed. Not for a time only, but always. One thought shall cheer us in sadness and nerve us in weakness, "_I have sworn and am determined to keep the judgments of thy justice_." ----------------- {124} Sermon VIII. The Two Standards. "No man can serve two masters." --St. Matt., vi. 24. (From the Gospel of the 14th Sunday after Pentecost.) There are two hostile camps pitched on the surface of the earth, and two great armies engaged in warfare against each other. The chiefs of these two armies are Jesus Christ and Satan, The war between them is not a new one. It began in heaven, when Lucifer and his companions rebelled against God. It broke out in a more deadly and decisive manner, when Jesus Christ erected his standard on Mt. Calvary, and from his Cross triumphed over the devil, while Satan, enraged at his defeat, summoned all his forces from earth and hell to an eternal war against the Cross. {125} This is a war in which every one must take part. Here no one can remain neutral; either for the Cross or against it--a soldier of Christ or a servant of the devil. You must choose your side. Which, then, do you take? Will you have Christ or Lucifer for your king? In the name of Jesus Christ, I call on you to renounce the infamous service of the devil for ever, and enroll yourself under the standard of the Cross, and I promise to give you good reasons for doing so. Listen, then, and make your decision. If the devil has the best claim, and offers the highest price, then follow him, and take his lot in this world and in eternity. But consider well what you have to look for, beforehand. If Jesus Christ is your rightful Lord, and heaven is worth having, then come out boldly on his side, and renounce the devil once for all. You cannot serve both, you must serve one; and the one whom you serve on this earth, will have possession of you for all eternity. {126} Survey, then, the two camps, the two standards, the two kings. On Mount Calvary see the Cross, the standard of salvation, rising above the camp of Jesus Christ. Look on the King who rules in this camp! Regard his features: they are full of majesty and humility, of power and of love, of authority and of compassion. Around Him the Blessed Virgin, the apostles, martyrs and confessors, all the saints and all the righteous, are grouped; and from his Cross He sends out his messengers into all the world, inviting all men to share his humility, self-denial, and suffering in this world, and his everlasting kingdom in the next. Now turn your eyes toward the other camp. It lies near the city of Babylon, the city of this world, a city of idolatry, sensuality, and worldly pomp. In the midst of it, Satan is seated on a high and burning throne, his features full of melancholy, pride and cruelty, surrounded by his demons, his false priests, and the multitude of his worshippers. He also sends his messengers through the earth, offering honors, pleasures, and riches here, and the fire of hell hereafter, to those who enlist in his service. Unhappy man! soldier of Christ by baptism! have these ministers of Satan persuaded you to renounce your lawful standard, and enlist under that of the devil? {127} Have you been persuaded by some worldly bribe, some passing pleasure, to renounce God and heaven, and to receive the black brand of mortal sin in your soul, the mark of your allegiance to the devil? What have you done? What master is this, to whom you have sold yourself? What have you to expect in his service? Listen to me, and I will prove to you that you have sold yourself to a detestable tyrant and usurper; that you have cast in your lot with a desperate cause, and that everlasting ruin is the only wages you will ever get. Satan is a detestable usurper. What right has he to reign in this world? What right has he to your soul, or to your service? Did he create the world, or make you? Has he conferred any benefit on the human race, that he is entitled to the gratitude and obedience of men? He is a miserable rebel against God, an outcast from heaven, the great enemy of mankind. He is the author of sin, misery, and death. He became master of your soul by mortal sin. He seduced you to offend God by lying promises, and treacherously got possession of your heart. Is he not then a usurper? {128} He is also a cruel tyrant. Satan tyrannizes over the soul which is subject to him, by making it a slave to its passions. He makes it sweat and toil like a negro slave, fast, and watch, and deny itself, like a hermit, in the service of these cruel taskmasters. One he forces to labor night and day for a lifetime, to scrape up a little money which he has no time to enjoy. Another he compels to sacrifice health, reputation, and fortune, to the gratification of lust. A third he turns into a beast by drunkenness. He tyrannizes over his subjects, also, by continual and insupportable torments of conscience. They have none of that peace and tranquillity which the servants of God enjoy, but a horrible foretaste of the pains of hell, in the incessant gnawings of a guilty conscience, and the continual fear of eternal damnation. The service of Satan is odious, on account of the companions with whom you must associate. You become the associate of demons, murderers, thieves, harlots, drunkards, and villains of every hue. The promises which the devil holds out to you are all false, and his words all delusive. He holds out to you an illusory hope of liberty and happiness, and deceives you with glittering but unreal pictures of future enjoyment. {129} For these you renounce Christian self-denial; for these you throw down the Cross of Christ, abandon the straight and narrow way, and sacrifice your hopes of heaven. But the devil will disappoint you. The pleasure he will give you will leave behind in your heart only bitterness and disgust. You will have to endure in his service labors and sufferings more than enough to make you a saint, if you performed them for God. You threw down the cross which God placed on your shoulders. It was a light cross, and was exactly measured for your size and strength. It was a cross full of blessings and graces, and if you had carried it courageously up the narrow way of life, after a time it would have supported you, and you would have been borne up by it to the gate of heaven. But you threw it down, because it was too heavy and galling, and turned from the steep path of virtue to the downward, flowery road of sin. Immediately the devil came up behind you, and fastened on your back an immense cross of rough, unhewn timber. {130} Loaded with this devil's cross, you are stumbling along the way of perdition toward the mouth of hell, into which you will fall at death, with the heavy burden of your sins on your back to press you down, and crush you forever beneath its weight. Such is the hard and bitter slavery to which you have bound yourself under this detestable tyrant. Moreover, his cause is a desperate one. A certain and ignominious defeat, from which he will never more arise, awaits him. He has already been conquered. Jesus Christ met him once in single combat in the desert, and put him to an ignominious flight. Afterwards, on the cross, He gained a still more signal and decisive victory over him, and made him serve by his own plan for our Lord's destruction, as an instrument for accomplishing our salvation. The Blessed Virgin has trampled on the head of this malicious serpent. All the saints and martyrs have triumphed over him, and the weakest Christian child can put him to flight, by resisting his temptations--by breathing a little prayer, or by making the sign of the cross. He is a weak and miserable coward. His cause is already desperate and lost. And although God allows him a certain liberty to tempt and trouble the world for a short time, the day of judgment is fast approaching, in which Jesus Christ will put him to shame before the whole universe, and cast him, together with all those who follow his standard, into the burning abyss of hell. {131} Such is a true picture of Lucifer, of his services, and of the reward which awaits his followers. Are you not ashamed, then, O false Christian! to have renounced your allegiance to your rightful Lord, for the service of such a master, who trembles at the very name of Jesus Christ? In the churches of the middle ages the statue of the martyr St. Christopher was frequently sculptured, carrying, in accordance with his name which signifies Christ-bearer, the infant Jesus on his shoulder. As his real history was unknown, the poetic fancy of that period invented several beautiful legends about it, of which the following is one: "A heathen youth of gigantic size and strength determined to seek out the strongest man in the world, and serve him. After many inquiries, he engaged himself to a Christian prince, who was famous for prowess and warlike achievements. {132} He served him contentedly for a while, but at length, observing that he often made the sign of the cross, he asked him the meaning of his doing so. The prince told him it was to keep off the devil. The youth asked him who the devil was, and if he was afraid of him. He told him that the devil was a wicked being, more powerful than any man, and that he feared him greatly. If that is the case, said the youth, I will serve you no longer, but I will serve the devil, because he is the strongest. Immediately he set out to seek for him, and passing through a forest was accosted by a dark-looking personage who asked him what he was looking for, and on receiving his his answer, replied: I am the devil you are seeking, follow me if you wish to enter my service. So saying, he went on, followed by the youth, toward a certain city. As they drew near the city, the devil turned aside from the highway, and took a bye-road which was much more circuitous. The youth asked him why he did not keep the high-road. Do you not see, said the devil, that crucifix? I do not wish to pass it. 'What is a crucifix?' said the youth. 'The image of my greatest enemy, who once conquered me' replied the devil. {133} Farewell, said the youth; if you are afraid of Him who hangs on that cross, I shall leave you, and serve Him, because he is stronger than you. So saying, he went in search of Jesus Christ, and having stopped at a monastery, and asked the way to find Him, was instructed, baptized by the name of Christopher, and became a martyr." Now, dear Christian, you are a Christopher, a Christ-bearer, for you have the image of Christ stamped in your soul in baptism. You are bound to serve the most powerful, and not only the most powerful, but the best master; the one who has the best right to your services, whose service is the most honorable, whose rewards are the greatest, and whose final victory is certain. Listen to me now, and I will show you that this Prince is Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is our lawful King. I. By hereditary right. He is the Son of God. In his divine nature He is equal to his Father, and equally with Him the Creator of all things, and therefore our sovereign Lord. In his human nature, He is the first begotten Son of his Father, the heir of all things, in a special sense, the chief of the human race. {134} II. By purchase. By Adam's sin, the special gifts which God had given to him and his posterity--integrity of nature, sanctifying grace, paradise and the title to heaven--were forfeited. Mankind fell from a free to a servile condition. Jesus Christ, by a compact with the eternal Father, and by pledging His life for us, has purchased his right over us. III. By redemption. He has redeemed us by his blood, from exile and slavery, and restored to us our forfeited inheritance of grace and eternal life. IV. By conquest. When the whole world was subject to the usurped tyranny of Satan, He made war on him, conquered him, and wrested our souls from his possession. As subjects of a conquered empire, we are therefore subject to the dominion of our conqueror. V. By our own election. We have freely chosen his service, when we were confirmed and ratified our baptismal vows, and a thousand times we have offered ourselves to his service, and sworn allegiance to Him. {135} His service is glorious. Because He is the greatest and wisest of all princes; because angels and saints are our companions; because his service consists in performing great and heroic actions, warring against vice, overcoming self, practising virtue, doing good, and conquering the world, the flesh and the devil. It is happy and delightful, because of peace of conscience, the friendship of God, and the consolations of divine grace. These are a sort of bounty or earnest-money given now; but the real reward is eternal life, to be given hereafter. Jesus Christ is certain to obtain the victory and to triumph gloriously over all his enemies--over treacherous and cowardly followers within his own camp, that is, bad Christians who preserve the faith but live and die in sin; over all those who are nominally his followers, but who really are fighting under the devil's standard, that is heretics, and schismatics; over infidels, his open enemies among men; over Satan and hell. Here now are the two chiefs. There are the two standards. This is the war in which every one of you is engaged, on one side or the other? Which side is it? Under what banner have you till now been ranged? Do you belong to the party of Jesus Christ or that of the devil? {136} Do you reply, I am a baptized Christian, marked with the sign of the cross, and a member of the Catholic Church, and therefore a servant of Jesus Christ? It is true you are a soldier regularly enlisted and sworn into Christ's army, and wearing his uniform. But the question is, are you a true-hearted, obedient and brave soldier of Jesus Christ, or are you a traitor in the camp, a servant of the devil in the guise of a Christian? Let us see. You call yourself a soldier of Jesus Christ. What are you doing then with the devil's bounty? The devil's bounty is a license to steal, cheat and swindle. What is that pile of bank-notes pilfered from your employer, you dishonest clerk? What is that heap of gold, you bribed judge, you corrupt legislator, you dishonest official, you swindling speculator in government contracts, in public distresses and private miseries? Jesus Christ will tolerate no thieves in his camp. If you are one of these unjust, dishonest, avaricious, overreaching robbers of your neighbors goods, standing ready to sell your voice, your pen, your vote, your oath, your conscience, your country, your faith, your soul, your God Himself, for gold, then you have touched the devil's bounty, you are his servant, and a traitor to your colors. {137} You are a soldier of Jesus Christ, are you? But you have been caught drinking the devil's treat. There, where his sergeants recruit for hell, in those grog-shops whose flaming signs and glaring windows tempt the fool and the unwary; where misery, beggary, despair and death are dealt out to wretched fathers, brutal husbands, ragged, bloated women who are wives and mothers; there you have drained the cup of drunkenness, the pledge of friendship with Satan and all the company of hell. You are a Christian soldier, are you? But I hear on your lips the devil's passwords, those curses and oaths, those obscene words and profane jests which show that you belong to the devil's camp. Your cursing tongue has betrayed you, false deserter, your speech is the speech of hell, and your presence among the faithful soldiers of Jesus Christ is an offence and a scandal not to be borne by those who have any zeal for the honor of their Lord. {138} You a Christian soldier?--and flaunting on the devil's parade-ground, the theatre, the ballroom where the lascivious waltz goes on, the midnight revel of thoughtless and giddy young people, flushed with wine, intoxicated with excitment, whirled away by the tide of passion, where they know not and care not, until at length remorse, disgrace and ruin tell them where, but too late to save them. These are the pomps of the devil which you renounced and foreswore at your baptism. If you take them up again, you are an outcast from Jesus Christ, and a servant of the devil. You dare to call yourself a Christian, and all the while you are living on the devil's pay, feeding on sensuality, plunged overhead in impurity, the miserable, beastly reward that the devil gives to his followers. By the law of Moses, those who committed such crimes were to be stoned to death without the camp. Is the camp of Jesus Christ less holy, think you, that an impure man or woman can be tolerated within its sacred precincts? {139} You pretend to wear the livery of Jesus Christ. What, then, is that badge, what are those insignia you are wearing? They tell that you belong to some secret society, that you have defied the law of the Church, and braved her excommunication. You are then shut out from the sacraments, and not only are you no soldier of Jesus Christ, but you belong to the devil's own body-guard. Tell me, you pretended soldier of Jesus Christ, where are you on your King's parade days, his Sundays and Festivals, when he requires his servants on earth and his angels in heaven to present themselves in review before him? Where are you during the holy solemnity of the Mass? Absent; your place vacant, and you asleep, or lounging, or doing the devil's work. At the Easter Communion, where are you? You are not to be found, or still worse, you present yourself without that rich and ornamental dress of sanctifying grace, which your king requires, under pain of death. Blush to call yourself a soldier of Jesus Christ, for if you are one, you are a delinquent and a faithless one. You profess yourself so loudly a Christian soldier, what then are you straggling for, behind your column? Jesus Christ allows no stragglers in his army, and the enemy has ambuscades everywhere to cut them off. {140} These are those heretical churches into which you stray, in ignorance or neglect of Catholic order and discipline. Hasten out of these ambuscades of error, delusion and eternal death. Rejoin your column quickly, and keep within the serried ranks of the Catholic host, or you are lost. My brave and vaunting Christian warrior, how do your professions of fidelity and courage comport with your conduct when put on guard at night? How have you conducted yourself in temptation? Have you not committed mortal sin, and then given as an excuse that you were tempted by the devil, or overcome by your passions? Have you not said that you could not help cursing when you were angry, drinking when you were urged, giving way to impure inclinations when you were assaulted by them, that you could not keep from mortal sin, because you are so weak? These excuses make you more guilty. They show that you have slept on your post, or kept a careless watch on the enemy, or yielded yourself a prisoner, when you should have fought manfully. It is your very profession as a soldier of Jesus Christ to fight with the world, the flesh and the devil, and you cannot be surprised or vanquished without your own fault. {141} To say that you must sin because the devil tempts you, or that you cannot resist your evil inclinations, is to confess your own shame, and to make it plain, that you are a coward, unworthy of the glorious name of a soldier of Jesus Christ. I call upon you, then, unworthy and unfaithful followers of Jesus Christ, to renounce your secret and treasonable dealings with the enemy, to cease to act like traitors or poltroons, and to rally again around the standard of salvation. No matter what mortal sin you have on your soul, it is a bond which links you with the devil, with his desperate cause and his eternal ruin. In spite of your name of Christian, your badge of soldier, and your military oath, you are a servant of Satan, and the Lord will one day cast you out among his open enemies. In God's name, then, no more double dealing. Choose your side! If you wish for despair, and have chosen eternal perdition, then Satan is your master, and you can follow him if you choose. But if Jesus Christ is your king, his service your choice, and his rewards your desire, come to his standard, and flinch no more. {142} See! the war is raging all around you, in which you must take part, on one side or the other. The banners are flying, the trumpets are sounding, the soldiers of Christ are winning eternal renown and pressing on to battle. Our glorious King is at the head of his chosen band leading the way to victory, which is already waving its wings above the unconquerable standard of salvation. The shouts of conquest are heard in the distance, and the foremost ranks are pressing in as victors through the gates of heaven. Shall we stand here like cowards, hugging the ignominious chains of mortal sin? Far be the thought from every Christian breast! The voice of our Leader is calling us. Forward! then. Onward! let us share in the glorious conflict, that we may share in the triumph, and partake in the everlasting peace that is to follow. ---------------------- {143} Sermon IX. The Epiphany. "They found the Child with Mary his mother." St. Matt, ii., 2. (From the Gospel for the Day). The Feast of the Epiphany, my dear brethren, is as it were a second Christmas. Christmas Day is a feast which all Christians hold in common, whether of Jewish or Gentile blood. If either had more claim than the other, it would seem to belong rather to those who are of Jewish origin; for, "_to you is born this day a Saviour in the City of David_" was the announcement made by the angels to the Jewish shepherds. But this feast of to-day is peculiarly ours. This is the great Gentile-Christian feast. {144} The motto which we put up over our altar on Christmas eve, and which still hangs there, "_Christus natus est nobis_," "Christ is born for us," is especially appropriate to-day. There is, however, still another distinct class of persons to whom this day ought to be especially dear. You, my dear brethren, who had not the greater privilege of belonging to the Holy Catholic Church from your infancy, but whom God in his mercy brought into it in after years, this is your feast. You have an interest in these Gentile converts, your ancestors in the faith, whom the Church commemorates to-day, which they have not who never knew any other creed. What I propose this morning, is, 1. To give you a sketch of the history of today's feast; and 2. To show you how these Gentile converts are models of men truly converted to God. I. History Of The Feast. Whilst angels were telling to the shepherds of Judea, as they kept watch over their flocks on Christmas eve, of the glad tidings of the birth of the Redeemer of the world in Bethlehem, a strange apparition aroused the inhabitants of a great city in the far distant east. {145} They were awakened from their sleep, and the windows, doors, and streets were thronged to look at a bright star, which hung in the sky, just over the city. You remember, I dare say, what a stir was made in this country and elsewhere, a few years since, by the unexpected appearance of that beautiful comet. How groups were to be seen standing about every evening, both in and out of doors, with telescope or the naked eye, gazing at it, and expressing to one another their wonder and delight. Well, some such feeling as this, mingled with a certain religious awe, must have taken hold of this people of the east on that night. How brilliant! what can it be? what can it mean? how close to us! who will tell us something about it? Exclamations such as these, were heard on all sides, from the lips of rich and poor alike. Now there were men in that kingdom who might naturally be supposed to know something about it, for they had made the science of the stars, in their supposed connection with human action, or astrology, a special branch of study. {146} They were men of education. They were high in civil station too, and filled such offices as magistrate, and governor, and even that of a sort of petty sovereign. They were called Magi. They were in their own country what the Mandarin is in China; what the Brahmin is in India. But how can they know any thing of a star so unusual in its appearance as this? There were two sources through which a certain prophecy connected with the appearance of a star might have reached them. 1. Fifteen hundred years before, a prophet or diviner, whatever his office may have been, whose name was Balaam, had uttered a most remarkable prophecy. It was as follows: "_I shall see him, but not now; I shall behold him, but not near. A star shall rise out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall spring up from Israel_." If Balaam was a fellow-countryman of these Magi, as some learned writers have supposed, then they could hardly have been ignorant of this prophecy. {147} 2. One thousand years after that again, the Jews were carried away in captivity to the city of Babylon, and dispersed themselves through that region of country. It is natural to suppose that in this way their traditions and sacred writings became publicly known. In that case, these men of science could hardly have failed to notice the fact of Balaam's prophecy being found in the Jewish book of Numbers. They would moreover find, in the course of that familiar intercourse which was now established between the people of both nations, that the Jews had always considered this prophecy as having reference to the promised Messias, or future Ruler of their people. Whatever may be the fact as to their having any information at all, or the particular sources through which it came, or whether their wills were moved directly by inspiration from God, certain it is that these holy kings did recognize in that star their guide to the newly-born king of the Jews. Among the historical records of God's dealing with the Jewish people, they perhaps remembered how He had led them through the wilderness under the guidance of a pillar of fire, and consequently were more willing to trust themselves to a guide of a similar kind. {148} Difficulties now sprang up on every side. It was no easy thing to make up their minds to leave their kingdoms (or whatever was the peculiar nature of their charge), in the hands of others, who might usurp their authority in their absence. Travelling over the deserts to the westward was most tedious, and attended with much danger. And after all might not this vision be a delusion? Such were some of the trials their faith had to surmount, and it did surmount them. I will not say more of their journey, than that they were faithful to their guide. They halted when it stood still, they continued their march when it led the way. Here are they now within a short march of the city of Jerusalem. The morning light is breaking, and word is passed to harness the camels, and to fold up the tents. The encampment is alive with joy, at the prospect of the speedy and successful termination of their undertaking, when a cry of distress is heard; "the star!--where is the star? it is gone! what shall we do?" Let us try to conceive what their distress must have been. {149} You know that in some parts of our country there are great caves underground, into which one can penetrate bypaths winding hither and thither to the distance of twenty, thirty, or even forty miles from the entrance; as for example, the great Mammoth cave of Kentucky. Of course, the darkness there is absolute. Perhaps you may remember having seen an account given by one of a party of persons whose only light had gone out on an excursion of this kind. He tried to describe the horror that he and his companions felt when they found themselves in such total darkness, and, unless relieved by persons outside, in the face of certain death. To move, even for a few feet, might, for all they knew, be sudden destruction. To remain where they were was certain death by starvation. Now some such feelings as these must have overwhelmed our travellers from the east when they lost the star. Their guide was gone; they were in a strange and, it might prove, an enemy's land, especially as they had come in search of a rival to him who was sitting on the throne of Judea. What should they do? They determined to enter the city, to go to the king himself and fearlessly demand to know from him "_where is he who is born king of the Jews; for we have seen his star in the east and have come to worship him?_" {150} King Herod called in the priests from the temple; the Scriptures were brought, the prophecies were examined; and Bethlehem was found to be the favored spot. "_Thou Bethlehem, the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda for out of thee shall come the ruler who shall rule my people Israel_." They do not stay to be entertained with banquetings, or with what is curious or interesting in this great city, but they resume their journey, when lo! their beautiful guide appears before them once more. Oh! what joy it must have been to them to see it again. I dare say they thought it a hundredfold brighter than before, as they gazed up at it with their cheerful faces. ... At last it stops just over a poor shed on a hillside. This the birth-place of the king of the Jews!! Impossible. They look up at the star. There it stands motionless. They dismount with their presents, and pass through the rude entrance. A wonderful light fills the lowly place, and they see a young woman sitting upon some straw on the ground, a beautiful infant on her lap, and one who seems to be her husband, at her side. That same faith which had led them so far, made them bend the knee in adoration. "_They had found the child with Mary his mother_." {151} Such, my dear brethren, is the sketch I promised you of this most interesting history of today's feast. To me, I must confess it has a peculiar charm and beauty. Now, what holy lesson shall we try to learn from it? II. These Magi Are Models To Us Of Men Truly Converted To God. 1. _In their prompt obedience to his inspirations_. That star was a call from God. He asked a great deal from them. Luxuries, comforts, country, kingdom, home, all must be, for the time at least, abandoned. It would seem so easy for them to have said, as we say now-a-days, I can arrange to go in a few months time,--but _at once_, this is quite impossible. But there stood their bright guide, a rebuke to any such thoughts, and in setting out at once, in obedience to this call from God, these holy men teach us a most wholesome lesson. How often has God not called us, either from some path of sin which we were following, or to a closer union with Himself? {152} At one time He has spoken to us plainly, by some word in a sermon or book, at another, by some secret fear or inspiration! We answer, "to-morrow, to-morrow," and that morrow never comes. That to-morrow is the devil's light, a very "Will o' the wisp," which leads us on and on to danger and destruction. Oh! let us in [the] future be on the watch for these secret whisperings of grace to our souls, and let us learn to be prompt in corresponding with them. 2. _In their courage_. When these holy men had promptly set about obeying the will of God, their difficulties had only just begun. They would soon have become disheartened but for the supernatural courage that sustained them. Their attendants and servants, not having their Master's faith, magnified every difficulty as it arose. The oppressive heat by day, the cold at night, the length and wearisomeness of the way, the danger of murder and robbery, all these afforded them subjects for continual murmuring. But now, to crown all, the star has disappeared, and they clamor loudly to be allowed to return back in haste to their homes. But no; a courageous faith supported these royal pilgrims, and God rewarded it, by their finding, at last, the object of their search, "the Child with Mary his Mother." {153} How is it, my dear brethren, with us on the way of life? Is it not too common to hear such language as this: 'I have such an unfortunate temper;' or, 'I have such disagreeable neighbors;' or, 'I have such an unmanageable family;' or, 'I am thrown with such reckless companions;' or, 'I have no comfort in my prayers;' and 'There is no use in trying to be good; I would give any thing if I only could be good; I am sure it is the only way to be really happy, but somehow or other I cannot get good.' Oh! poor cowardly souls that we are! Did I not say truly, that in these Magi we should find an occasion of confusion to ourselves, as well as true models of courageous perseverance under difficulties however great or peculiar? Dear brethren, begin again this morning your journey of life, in the spirit of these holy converts. Be faithful to the light that God never fails to give you, through your directors and confessors, through good books and by holy inspirations, and joy and consolation will come all in good time. {154} The only way that will surely, safely, and speedily bring us to our Lord, is the way of the Cross. Surely it is worth the venture, worth the toil, if only we find at last, as we shall, "that Child with Mary his Mother." 3. _In their offerings_. It is a beautiful custom among the nations of the East, that they never go into the presence of their sovereign without some offering. Behold these holy men, as they bow down within the entrance of that poor lodge, and hold out in their hands the gold, the frankincense and the myrrh which they have brought so far, in honor of their newly found Sovereign, the infant king of the Jews! Let us kneel in spirit with them. We have here, our Bethlehem. The infant Jesus is within this little Tabernacle. There, above the altar rail, the still light is burning, which is the silent monitor to our faith, that Jesus is here. The world would have found it hard to adore the infant Saviour, with those three kings, in so lowly a place; and the world finds it too hard now, to kneel with us, in a Catholic church, before the blessed Sacrament. These holy men did not find it hard, nor do we, for they and we have the same blessed, gift of faith. {155} _They offer gold_--You have none! Oh yes, you have. Put your ten-penny, five-penny, and three-penny pieces, put your pennies too, into the offertory, with a pure intention, or bestow an alms on the poor outside, in the name of Jesus, and they will be changed into the purest gold. Love is a far more acceptable offering to God than gold. He has no need of your money; for, as the Psalmist says, "The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof." One thing alone you have it in your power to keep from Him, and he deigns to ask you for it. It is your heart. It is your love and your service. _They offer incense_--You have none! Oh yes, you have. What does holy king David say? "_O Lord, direct my prayer as incense in thy sight._" Prayer is the blessed incense that is incessantly streaming up before God. This it is that restrains the arm of his anger, and brings down blessings like showers of rain. There is one prayer above all others which in a special manner is doing this. It is the Holy Mass. Blessed Leonard of Port Maurice asks himself, why it is that God does not nowadays visit nations with such terrible and unmistakable judgments as He did the Jews, and the nations round about them? {156} Then he makes answer to himself, it is because of the all-powerful intercession of the Holy Mass. As that pure and holy sacrifice ascends up like clouds of incense, from ten thousand altars, all over the world, God is disarmed of his anger. A wicked world is spared too, for the sake of what those little tabernacles contain, on the altars of Catholic churches. Hear mass, then, on a week day, or make a visit of a few minutes to the Blessed Sacrament, and you have the most fragrant incense to offer to God. _They offer myrrh_--You have none! Oh yes. Myrrh preserves from corruption. This was among the spices that the holy women brought on Easter morning to embalm our Lord's body. Well, there is something that preserves our souls, as myrrh and spices preserve our bodies. This is self-denial. Self-gratification is the corruption both of soul and body. Look around at the army of drunkards, and seekers of forbidden pleasures, and you will have abundant proof of the corruption of the body, and of the soul too, though not in the awfulness of its corruption, as God sees it. {157} Well, restrain your tongue; restrain your eye; restrain your appetite; and offer this to God in penance for your sins, in union with that sublime act of self-denial on the Cross, and you will offer to your Saviour as pleasing an offering as these holy Magi. My brethren, we are all on the road to another, the true Bethlehem. We, too, are going in search of Jesus and Mary. Our Bethlehem is heaven. Our glorious, supernatural, infallible guide, is the Holy Catholic Church. We have met with trials; we shall meet with more. Perhaps, thus far, we have only passed through a sort of preparatory state, which shall enable us to bear up under the real sacrifices that we shall be called upon to make in time to come. Nothing will sustain us under these, but implicit faith in our Guide, and an unshaken fidelity to her. Be loyal to her then. Show your love for God, by your obedience to her. Cling to her side, and she will lead you to that Bethlehem above, where it may be said of you also,-- "They found the Child with Mary his Mother." ---------------------- {158} Sermon X. Renunciation. "And after six days, Jesus taketh unto him Peter and James and John his brother, and bringeth them up into a high mountain apart. And he was transfigured before them. And his face did shine as the sun, and his garments became white as snow." --St. Matt, xvii., 12. (From the Gospel for the Transfiguration). A wise general, in order to excite the ardor of his soldiers, and to render them forgetful of the dangers to which they are exposed, pictures to them on the eve of battle the spoils and glory to be acquired, if they fight bravely. In like manner, our Lord, in order to cheer up and console his disciples, who began to be dismayed at the prospect of that death He was about to suffer, imparted to them a foretaste of the joys of paradise, and a "vision" of the splendor of his divinity. {159} "_He was transfigured before them. And his face did shine as the sun; and his garments became white as snow._" Peter, as soon as he recovered from his ecstasy of delight, exclaimed: "_Lord, It is good for us to be here_." But, to prepare His disciples for this anticipation of heaven, He brought them into a high mountain apart; indicating thereby that such privileges can only be obtained by separation from the world in solitude. This is not only true relative to these high and special favors, but equally true in order to persevere in the practice of a Christian life. Separation from the world is an indispensable duty of a Christian. This truth, so plain in Holy Writ, is nevertheless liable to be misconceived, for which reason we must make the following distinction: There is a world we are not required as Christians to separate from. There is a world we are under the strictest obligations to separate from. The condemnation of the world by our Lord and his apostles is too plain and frequent not to have met the eye of any one who has the slightest acquaintance with the New Testament. {160} "_You are from beneath,_" said the Saviour to the Jews, "_I am from above. You are of this world: I am not of this world_," [Footnote 51] "_Love not the world,_" says the beloved disciple and apostle, "_nor the things which are in the world. If any man love the world the charity of the Father is not in him._" [Footnote 52] St. Paul, teaching the Romans, says: "_Be not conformed to the world._" [Footnote 53] "_The friendship of the world,_" says St. James, "_is enmity with God._" [Footnote 54] "_The whole world_," says St. John, "_is seated in wickedness._" [Footnote 55] [Footnote 51: St. John viii., 23.] [Footnote 52: 1 John ii., 15.] [Footnote 53: Romans xii., 2.] [Footnote 54: St. James iv., 4. ] [Footnote 55: 1 John v., 19.] These declarations of the sacred Scriptures are plain and to the point. To be a disciple of Christ is to have nothing to do with the world. If any further proof were needed of so plain a fact, we may find it in the baptismal service, where the catechumen is engaged by the most solemn promises to turn his back upon the world. But what this world is, that we are so strictly engaged to renounce, is not at first sight so clear. Is it the visible world, called nature, so full of instruction and rich in beauty, that we are to turn our backs upon? {161} Are we called upon in our character as Christians to close our eyes to the flowers, the mountains, the rivers, the glowing sunsets, and the stars of heaven? Are we bound to shut our ears to the murmuring winds, the music of the rivulet, and the songs of the birds? Are we to be counted Christians on the condition only of our shutting out from our senses that beauty, which surrounds us on all hands, of the visible world? What is there profane in nature when Holy Writ assures us that, "The Lord is holy in all his works." [Footnote 56] and that "_all things serve Him?_" [Footnote 57] [Footnote 56: Psalm cxliv., 13.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Psalm cxlv., 13.] [Footnote 57: Psalm cxviii., 91.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Psalm cxix., 91.] The royal prophet David was accustomed to open all the avenues of his soul to the beauty of nature, and, filled with admiration, he seems hardly able to contain his praise of Him by whom all things were made. "_O Lord our Lord, how admirable_," he exclaims, "_is thy name in the whole earth_." [Footnote 58] "_How great are thy works, O Lord! thou hast made all things in wisdom; the earth is filled with thy riches._" [Footnote 59] [Footnote 58: Psalm viii., 2.] [Footnote 59: Psalm ciii., 24.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Psalm civ., 24.] {162} Our blessed Saviour himself chose to convey the great truths of his gospel by illustrations drawn from the visible creation. He calls our attention at one time to "the birds of the air," at another, it is to the golden "harvests," and then it is to "the lilies of the fields." He seems to have looked with an attentive and friendly eye upon the attractions of nature. "_Consider_," He says, "_the lilies of the fields, how they grow: they labor not, neither do they spin. And yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory, was arrayed like one of these._" [Footnote 60] [Footnote 60: St. Matt, vi., 28-29.] Commenting on this passage of Holy Scripture, St. John Chrysostom asks: "Wherefore did God make the lilies so beautiful? That He might display," he answers, "the wisdom and excellency of his power, that from every thing we might learn his glory." For not "_the heavens only declare the glory of God._" [Footnote 61] but the earth too; and this David declared when he said: "_Praise the Lord, ye fruitful trees, and all the cedars_." [Footnote 62] [Footnote 61: Psalm xix., 1.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Psalm xix., 2.] [Footnote 62: Psalm cxlviii., 4.] [Transcriber's note: The phrase "Praise the Lord" is from verse 7 and "fruit trees and all cedars" is from verse 9.] {163} It could be no part of the visible creation that the Gospel had in view, when it declared that the friendship of the world is enmity with God; for we hear the same voice speak to us from nature, which speaks to us in divine revelation. What was it then? Was it the world of art, science, and literature? Have not beauty, knowledge, and genius one and the same fountain source with religion? Whence spring the noble achievements of art, science, and literature, if not from gifts, which like "_every best gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights_." [Footnote 63] [Footnote 63: St. James i., 17.] Is not the true aim of art in all its creations to aid religion in bringing men to the contemplation of the first Fair, the first True, and the first Good? Can science find a greater sphere than to show how all things are, and move, and exist in their primal cause, God? Can literature be devoted to more worthy ends than to make those virtues attractive which religion commands? True religion recognizes in art, in science, and in literature, her natural allies, while they in turn find in her bosom loftier and wider spheres to stimulate human exertion. These, then, are not of that world which Holy Writ condemns as at enmity with God. {164} Are we to find the world, which we as Christians are to renounce, in the ties of the family, in relationships and friends, in neighborhood and the common pursuits of life? All these conditions of life our Saviour sanctified either in his own person, or by his express approbation, or by his presence. The basis of all these relations of human life is that of marriage, and this natural tie, He not only sanctioned, but raised it up to a holy sacrament of his religion. It is a false idea of the Christian religion, and one which is most injurious, to imagine that it requires of us to stifle all natural affections, and to escape from society, in order to lead a Christian life. It teaches that the way of salvation, and the high roads to sanctity, are chiefly through the fulfilment of the common duties of every day life. "_For God created all things,_" says Holy Writ, "_that they might be: and he made the nations of the earth for health: and there is no poison of destruction in them, nor kingdom of hell upon earth._" [Footnote 64] [Footnote 64: Wisdom i., 14.] {165} The world made up of human relationships and the common pursuits of life, called society, is not at enmity with God. Nature art, science, human society, are not opposed to Christianity, nor contrary to Christian perfection. Many Christians have become great saints surrounded only by the scenery of nature; others while cultivating the arts and sciences; others again have reached an eminent degree of perfection while fulfilling their common every day duties. For the visible creation is good, and there is nothing in man's nature incompatible with the absolute perfections of God, as is proved in the fact that our Saviour was in all respects in his humanity a man, and at the same time truly God. "_All things,_" says Holy Scripture, "_cooperate for good to those who love God._" The true Christian Church incorporates and consecrates nature and art in her worship--she appeals to the whole nature of every man, and opens a way to heaven for men of all classes, and in every condition of society. The task was left to the sects which sprung from the religious revolution of the sixteenth century, to exclude nature and art from Christian worship, to divorce faith and science, to degrade the sacrament of matrimony to a mere civil contract, and to teach men that they were wholly depraved. {166} The authors of this revolution in Christianity, seemed to take delight in parcelling the realm of Christian truth into wrangling creeds, and in rendering Christian worship rigid, gloomy and repulsive. And in this they found freedom, progress, and the light of the pure gospel! How narrow and grovelling are the minds which never rise to the contemplation of that unity which reconciles all truths, all beauties, and all goodness! Will that day ever dawn when Christianity will find a people sufficiently great to grant to its divine truths fair play with their intelligence, and a full sway to her influence over their whole lives?--when men of genius, of science and of learning will understand that the true end of all knowing, all loving and all doing is the same as that of religion, to render the souls of men more like their Creator, and to aid others in this divine work? {167} Where then is the world which, as Christians, we are called upon to separate from? There is a world which God made for the use of man. He made it good, and good it remains while rightly used. There is another world which man has made, and it is framed out of the abuse of the creatures of God's world. The whole difficulty lies in the fact that men generally do not consider the things of creation rightly, or use them properly; and the great world around us consists in the main of those who thus misunderstand God's world, and live by the abuse and perversion of it, led on by their inordinate desires. This is "the world seated in wickedness," on which we must turn our backs, for to be a friend of it, is to be an enemy of God. A few illustrations will make this point plain. How few there are who look upon nature in that light in which she was intended to be seen by her Creator. Seen in this light, the whole visible world of nature raises up our thoughts and affection to our common Creator. For nature has ever been true and loyal to her Author. The Psalmist only gives expression to the natural and spontaneous impulses of the soul when in beholding the visible world, he exclaims: "_O Lord, our Lord, how admirable is thy name in the whole earth_." How few in looking upon nature, raise up their thoughts to nature's God. {168} They do not go beyond, but stop with what they see. To them, nature is the highest and most complete expression of strength, beauty, and truth. Nature is fair, but how much fairer is He who made nature what she is! They forget the King in their blind admiration of his vestments. They become the servants and slaves of nature, instead of being her master and high-priest. Their worship of nature excludes her Creator and Lord, and they become like the heathen idolaters of whom the Apostle speaks: "_They worshipped the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed for ever_." [Footnote 65] [Footnote 65: Rom. i., 25.] What do we find for the most part in the world of art? Do we see artists who are conscious of the great purposes of their noble vocation? Do they aim by the creations of their genius to raise less gifted minds to gaze upon the archetype of all beauty, truth, and goodness? Do they strive so to embody what is noblest and best in man's nature as to captivate his imagination, and enkindle an enthusiasm for its imitation? {169} There are a few such; a few who are men, no less than artists, and who regard their vocation as something akin to what is sacred, and would look upon it as desecration to employ their gifts in such way us to lead men aside from the realization of the great end of their existence. But the many study to clothe with forms of borrowed beauty the expressions which spring from the lowest passions of their nature. The lessons which their productions teach, were they interpreted and expressed in words, would shock the unvitiated feelings of the heart, causing the innocent cheek to blush with shame. Quoting with sophistical blindness the text, "_To the pure all things are pure_," they imagine they are justified in violating every rule of Christian decency, every feeling of modesty, and every maxim of morality. Under the pretext of being true to nature, they misrepresent nature, by presenting what is lowest in man, and that in its exaggerated and depraved developments, and thereby add excitement to his already inordinate appetites and aid powerfully to his further degradation. Art, instead of being an angel pointing with its fore-finger to heaven, showing man the way to his destiny, and aiding him to its attainment, is turned into a Siren, enticing men to sin and destruction. {170} In the world of science and literature, the same thing takes place. It would appear that the aim of most men devoted to science is, in a great measure, to undermine the basis of religious conviction in the soul, instead of adding to its strength and support. What is more reasonable than to suppose that the sentiments of religion should increase in proportion to the acquisition of the knowledge of truth, for the end of all knowledge of truth is God. And yet, if you select from almost any branch of science, those who are pre-eminent, you will, in all probability, find that those who believe in Christianity and practise its precepts, are in the minority, a very small minority. What a strange perversion of the gift of intelligence to study the works of creation, in order to overturn the Revelation of the Creator! Popular literature is of the same stamp. It would be high praise to say of a popular author that his writings contain nothing contrary to morals or religion. It would seem to be the aim of some to substitute vice for virtue, and so to cloak passion with the garb of innocence as to make obedience to them an act of religion. {171} Familiarity with our popular literature would be a sad preparation for the reception of religious impressions, or for the practice of virtue. Briefly, in art, in science, and literature, there reigns for the greater part, an indifference to Christianity, the spirit of paganism, and a practical atheism. Let us now look about ourselves in society. Here is a man possessed with the desire for distinction and places of honor. His thoughts by day, and his dreams at night, are set upon them. He is a lawyer, and aims at being at the head of the bar, or at becoming a judge. He is a politician, he seeks to be an alderman, or a state senator, or a congressman. He knows not but one day he may be the president of the United States. Does he seek these by legitimate means? Not at all. To gain popularity he sacrifices all self-respect, and bribery is connived at to obtain votes. If his religion is likely to aid his efforts, he _uses_ it; you will find him in church, and he gives liberally about election times to its charitable institutions. {172} Should his religion stand in his way, he ceases to practice its duties. Should it serve his purpose, he becomes a free-mason, or an odd fellow, or a member of some other secret society. Another is driven on by an inordinate desire for riches. Not content with the rewards of an honest trade, or a respectable business, he must make money easier and faster. He starts a saloon or a liquor store, and to conceal the low and disgraceful character of his traffic, he places on his house a sign in large letters, "Bonded Warehouse," "Rectifying Distillery," "Importer of Foreign Liquors," or some other like falsehood. His foreign and domestic wines and liquors, are made of bad spirits, some coloring matter and essences, with fusil oil; and these he deals out for genuine, making from two to three hundred per cent. profit. Under the plea of providing for a family, and it may be that he has neither chick nor child, he opens in the city several such--Rectifying Distilleries!! What does this man care about the scandal which he is the occasion of to his religion, or the poverty and wretchedness he spreads abroad in his neighborhood, or the number of souls which he sends to an untimely and unprepared grave, caused by his poisonous stuffs, so that he gain wealth without effort and rapidly. {173} Another, a young man who is bent upon seeking pleasure. He frequents low theatres, ball-rooms, and bar-rooms. He meets companions, he gambles, and occasionally he puts his hand in the till of his employer's drawer, or he forges his paper. The effects of late hours, intoxication and debauchery, by and by, show themselves on his face, a faint picture of the corruption which these vices have produced in his heart. He ends his life as an uncurable in a public hospital; or detected, he spends his time and dies in a penitentiary. Here is a girl whose mind and imagination are filled with parties of pleasure, and forbidden friendships, gathered for the most part from reading popular literature and infectious novels. Her prayers are forgotten, the sacraments neglected, and she dreams of amusements and romantic attachments. Dress, tone of voice, every step and movement of her person betray the inordinate passions which have taken possession, and reign now in her bosom. To fill up the sketch, all that is now needed is time and opportunity, to complete her ruin, and make her a public shame. {174} From these illustrations it is easily seen which world it is that, as followers of Christ, we are to separate from. It is this world fabricated of error, of the abuse of created things, and engendered of inordinate desires. This is the world of which the Apostle speaks when he says: "_Love not the world, nor the things which are in the world. If any man love the world the charity of the Father is not in him: for all that is in the world, is the concupiscence of the flesh, the concupiscence of the eyes, and the pride of life, which is not of the Father but of the world_." [Footnote 66] [Footnote 66: 1 John ii., 15-16.] There is then a world which is formed of the things which God has made, and the right use of these things by us; and this is an innocent and righteous world, of which it is said: "_God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself_." [Footnote 67] [Footnote 67: 2 Cor. v., 9.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is 2 Cor. v., 19.] There is a world which is made up of error, and the abuse men make of created things; and this is the wicked and ungodly world condemned in Holy Scripture. {175} On the one let us look with interest and delight, and from the other let us separate and stand far apart, as did our blessed Lord and his Saints, giving heed to the advice of St. Augustine: "Let the spirit of God be in thee," he says, "that thou mayest see that all these created things are good; but woe to thee if thou love the things made, and forsake the Maker of them! Fair are they to thee; but how much fairer He that formed them!" ---------------- {176} Sermon XI. The Afflictions Of The Just. "Blessed are you, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad, because your reward is very great in heaven; for so they persecuted the Prophets that were before you." --St. Matt, v., 11, 12. (From the Gospel for All Saints' Day.) I am about to preach you an old sermon this morning; but I doubt not, my dear friends, you will find it all the better for being old, and quite appropriate, moreover, to this day's feast, for it will carry us back to the earlier ages of Christianity, when living saints were more abundant than now. {177} In a vast desert of Palestine, which lay near the boundaries of Arabia, there dwelt, during the fourth century of the Christian era, a number of devout hermits, who, after a life of great innocence and saintly virtue, were cruelly massacred by the Saracens. Some of their brethren, deeply afflicted and scandalized by this outrage, began to ask themselves, how it was possible that God should permit such holy men to perish by the hand of these wicked infidels. In their perplexity, they deputed several of their number to visit and consult an aged Egyptian hermit who, on account of the great veneration in which he was held, and the number of disciples gathered around him, was called the Abba, or Abbot Theodore. These came to him with their sad story, and besought him to explain why God should permit such holy men to perish so miserably, and how he could consent to the triumph of these cruel barbarians over his saints. I invite your particular attention, my brethren, to his answer; for perhaps you have asked similar questions yourselves. In the various wars in which nations have engaged, and even in those where the interests of religion seemed most involved, we do not see that victory has always perched upon those banners which the prayers of God's people have blessed. {178} So it has been throughout the history of the Church, and especially during the past three centuries. Who can recount the calamities which from year to year have fallen upon the children of the faith? The soul grows sick to read of kingdoms wrested by violence into schism and heresy, the burnings of monasteries and convents, or their confiscation to the state, the persecution of the Catholic clergy, the oppression of the laity. And especially when we turn our thoughts to Ireland, poor, faithful, down trodden Ireland--is it not wonderful that every thing seems to turn out to her disadvantage, and to the prosperity of her oppressors? Have you not sometimes been tempted to exclaim: "Has God forgotten Ireland? Has she clung to her faith so long in vain, amid poverty, oppression and bloodshed? Has heaven no favors for her? Why does not God give victory always to the just cause?" Or, perhaps, you have noticed in your own neighborhood, how often the most faithful servants of God have been visited by heavy afflictions, long sickness, loss of property, death of children and other dear friends, while others, destitute of faith, piety, and of all virtuous principle, seem to prosper on every hand. {179} And perhaps, seeing this, the thought arises in your mind: "Does not God take notice of these things? Has He no chastisement for the wicked, no sympathy for the good? Why does He not take part with his own, and make them prosper most?" All these murmurings are like those of the good anchorites who visited Abbot Theodore, and his answer to their questions will answer yours. (_Prelude of Abbot Theodore_.)--"These questions, my brethren," said he, "only astonish those who, having little faith and little light, think that the saints ought to receive their recompense in this life, while God reserves it for them in the other. But we have far different thoughts. If our hopes in Christ were only for the present life, we should be, as St. Paul tells us, the most miserable among men, having no recompense in this world, and losing heaven also by our want of faith. We ought to guard our minds against this error, for it would leave us without hope or courage in the moment of temptation, fill us with distrust of God, and so bring us into sin, and to our ruin." {180} After this short prelude, he goes on to show that God neither sends nor permits any real evil to those that love Him, but that, on the contrary, all things contribute to the welfare of the just. And this is his argument: I. God Neither Sends Nor Permits Any Real Evil, &c. "Every thing in this world," said the good abbot, "is either good, or bad, or indifferent. There is nothing really good but virtue, which conducts us to God. There is nothing really bad but sin, which separates us from God. In different things are such as hold a middle place between good and evil, and may pass into one or the other, according to the disposition of him that uses them. Such are riches, honor, health, beauty, life, death, sickness, poverty, injuries, insults, &c." "This distinction laid, let us see whether God has ever sent any real evil to his saints, or permitted any one to do them a real injury. That is something that we shall never be able to make out. For no one is able to make a man fall into sin, who is unwilling and resists, but only those who consent to it, and give admittance to it, by the effeminacy of their hearts, and the depravity of their will. {181} The demon employed every possible artifice against holy Job to make him murmur against God; but in spite of all the afflictions which he heaped upon him, body and soul, he could not provoke him so far as to sin even with his lips, and thus fall into the only real evil he had to fear. We must not think, therefore, that the ill turns which our enemies or other persons sometimes do us are really evils, but they belong rather to the class of indifferent things. To be sure, they may think to have done us harm, and rejoice at it; but the harm does not depend upon what they may think, so long as we do not count it for such. For example: a good man is put to death, without any just cause or provocation. Now, we must not suppose that any thing really evil in itself has happened to him, but simply something which is either good or evil, according to circumstances. For, in truth, death, which is commonly counted to be an evil, comes with a blessing to the just man, for it delivers him from all the afflictions of this life. Thus death is no harm to him; and although the malice of his enemies anticipates the order of nature by leading him to a sudden death, the good man thereby only pays a little sooner a debt which he had to pay in any case, and he goes to receive an eternal crown, as the reward of his sufferings and death." {182} Upon this, one of the party named Germanns, raised a difficulty. "In that case," said he, "we should have no reason to blame the murderer, since he does no harm to the one he kills, but only speeds him the sooner on to his salvation." "We are speaking of things as they are in themselves," said Abbot Theodore, "and not of the intention of those who do them. The patience and virtue of the just man in his sufferings and death, is a crown to himself, but no justification of his persecutor. The latter will be punished for his cruelty, and for the evil which he intended to do, while the good man has in reality suffered no harm, but by his patience has changed into a blessing the evil which was devised against him. For example: the wonderful patience of Job was of no service to Satan, but it was of inestimable value to Job himself, who endured his trials with so much courage and resignation. {183} So Judas is none the less subjected to eternal torments, because his treason contributed to the salvation of men; for in the eye of divine justice, an action is not so much to be judged by its results, as by the intention of the person who did it." These high, and holy maxims of Christian philosophy being thus firmly established, our good hermit, growing warm with his subject, begins to rise to still loftier and more beautiful conceptions, like a bee coming out from its search in the flower, and shaking the golden pollen from its wings. II. All Things Contribute To The Welfare Of The Just. "We say of some men that they are born to good luck, and that every thing they put their hands to turns out well. We deceive ourselves when we say this; it is only true of the Saints, and in a spiritual sense. '_We know_,' says St. Paul, '_that all things work together for good to them that love God_.' [Footnote 68] [Footnote 68: Rom. viii., 28.] {184} Wonderful truth! Beautiful truth! And the Prophet David says the same thing of every man whose will is in the Law of God: _All, whatsoever he shall do, shall prosper._ [Footnote 69] [Footnote 69: Ps. i., 3.] Now, when the Apostle says that '_all things work together for good_,' he means not only prosperity, but also what is called adversity. And why? Why, because those who truly and perfectly love God remain unchanged in all the vicissitudes of life. They have but one end in view--eternal life, and only one means to attain to it, namely, to do the will of God. This they can do in all weathers, in rain or sunshine. Indeed, like the stormy petrel, they gather most in stormy weather. For what reflecting Christian does not know the sweet uses of adversity, which, by severing the hopes that bound us to the earth, and opening our eyes to the fact that we are but pilgrims here, with a right of passage only, teach us to fix our hopes on heaven alone, and labor to build up our fortunes there? The great Apostle, who himself had passed through the various paths of adversity, teaches us how to turn all the vicissitudes of life, both its joys and sorrows, into golden occasions of merit, fighting our way onward to heaven, as he says, '_with the strength which God gives us, by the arms of justice, on the right hand and on the left;_' that is, as he goes on to explain, '_through honor and dishonor, through infamy and good name, as dying and behold we live, as sorrowful and yet always rejoicing, as having nothing and yet possessing all things?_' [Footnote 70] [Footnote 70: 2 Cor. vi., 8-10] {185} "All therefore, that passes for prosperity, and is consequently _on the right hand_, such as glory, and good reputation, and success in temporal affairs, and all that passes for adversity, and thus, according to the language of St. Paul, is _on the left hand_, such as disgrace and evil report, and temporal disappointment;--all to the perfect Christian serve alike for arms of justice, holy weapons to win his crown with, because he receives every thing that comes with the same great heart, and allows himself to be cast down by nothing. And therefore the Prophet says of him: '_The holy man continues in wisdom like the sun_.'[Footnote 71] [Footnote 71: Ecclus. xxvii. 12.] [Transcriber's note: Ecclesiastes ends at chapter 12. Text is similar to Sirach xxvii. 11.] But for those who change every moment, and show different humors and different dispositions of heart, according to the different chances and changes of life--let them listen to these words of the same Prophet, which were spoken for their especial benefit: _The fool changes like the moon.'_ [Footnote 72] [Footnote 72: Ecclus. xxvii. 12.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB citation is Sirach xxvii. 11; "the godless man, like the moon, is inconstant."] {186} And, therefore, every thing turns to evil for them, according to the proverb: '_Every thing to the foolish man is contrary_,' [Footnote 73] because he does not improve in prosperity, nor correct his ways in adversity. It will not do for the Christian to be like wax, which takes any form that may be impressed upon it; but like a diamond seal, he should keep unchangeably the form impressed upon his heart by the hand of God, showing no change in the different events of life. [Footnote 73: Prov. xiv. 7. So in the lxx. ] "In Holy Scripture [Footnote 74] we read of one Aod, a great warrior, and a leader of the Israelites, who was what is called an _ambidexter_, that is, he could use the left hand as well as the right. This man," said Abbot Theodore, "is a type of the perfect Christian, who is always an ambidexter, making use of both prosperity and adversity to advance the salvation of his soul, and increase his merits, fighting the good fight of faith, '_with the arms of justice, on the right hand and on the left_.' [Footnote 74: Judges ii.] {187} It is the duty of us all to exercise ourselves in the use of this holy armor, that we may, like Aod, be dexterous warriors, able to carry our swords in either hand, and meet our foes on whatever side they may advance, temperate in prosperity, patient in adversity, never fainting, always rejoicing, seeking for nothing, hoping for nothing, knowing nothing in this world but "Jesus Christ and Him crucified," and thus, by this blessed alchemy of the Saints, turning all things into gold. "You see, therefore, my dear friends," so concluded the good hermit, "that we have no occasion to deplore the death of these saintly solitaries, as if they had suffered some great misfortune, or as if their enemies had triumphed over them; and still less have we any right to complain of God, as if He had forsaken or forgotten his own. On the contrary, they have gone to their rest, like the laboring man at night-fall; they have been shaken from the tree where they grew, like ripe figs in the harvest time, and their Divine Master has gathered them in. Their death was cruel and miserable in the eyes of man, but precious in the sight of God, for so the Psalmist tells us: '_Precious in the sight of God is the death of his Saints_.' [Footnote 75] [Footnote 75: Psalm cxv., 15.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Psalm cxvi., 15.] {188} Do not believe that, even if it were left to their choice, they would wish to come back again to this world, to live longer in it, nor would they choose any other death than that by which they have quitted it. Indeed there was little room for choice in the matter, since, as the Apostle says, '_for them to live was Christ and to die was gain_,' [Footnote 76] it being the privilege of the Saints to prosper in all that befalls them." [Footnote 76: Phil, i., 21.] [Transcriber's note: Similarly, Phil., 1., 23, "I long to depart this life and be with Christ, (for) that is far better."] See! my dear brethren, it is not I that have been speaking to you, but an ancient Father of the desert. I have preached to you an old sermon, and well nigh word for word as it was spoken fifteen hundred years ago in the Egyptian wilderness. I have done so purposely, in order that you may take notice that the Christians of those early times were subject to disasters and afflictions as you are now, and tried by the same temptations. You see also what kind of consolation they found in their religion, what kind of counsel they received from their spiritual advisers, and how they turned their sorrows and adversities to good account. {189} Their time of trial was over long ago; and now they are happy. No doubt, they look back with pleasure upon those very sorrows, as belonging to the sweetest and holiest days of their pilgrimage on earth--days of patient resignation, and childlike trust, and Christian courage--days when they wept much, but prayed all the more--days when the current of earthly joys was at its lowest ebb-tide, but the waters of heavenly grace were at their fullest flood-tide, and therefore, days of golden gain. Oh! let it be so with you, my brethren, in your afflictions! What would you have? The Christians of other ages have journeyed on cheerfully toward heaven bearing their cross. Would you ride thither at your ease? Would you wear your crown without winning it? Would you be saved by the sufferings of Christ, and refuse to take your share of suffering? No! arm yourselves with Christian fortitude. Meet adversities patiently, manfully, trustfully, as these good Christians did of old. Be like them in the trials of this world, and then, like them too in the recompense of the other, "_your sorrows shall be turned into joy_," and your joy will be all the greater for the sorrows you have endured. ---------------------- {190} Sermon XII. False Maxims. "Lord, that I may see." --St. Luke xviii., 41. (From the Gospel for Quinquagesima Sunday.) Blindness is a very common thing, if we may judge by the many false maxims afloat. We find them everywhere and in every thing, in politics, in business, in the government of children, in religion. Wherever they are, they are pernicious and destructive. In business they lead to bankruptcy and ruin; in politics to disunion, revolution and anarchy; in the government of families to dissipation and worthlessness. But of all false maxims, the most pernicious and destructive are those relating to religion: because they involve the loss of the soul, of all our interests, hopes, and happiness in one great ruin. {191} There are many such. One will say: "It's no matter what a man's faith may be. All religions are alike, they are different roads that lead to the same end. Let a man only act right, and he can throw all creeds over board; whether Jew, Turk, Heathen, Protestant or Catholic, it makes no difference." A man who speaks thus is no Catholic, nor is he ever like to be. He has put out the light of Jesus Christ, who holds up to us "one faith, one Lord, one baptism," and gropes along to his ruin in a darkness of his own creation. But I don't mean to speak of such. I would rather speak of the false maxims of certain Catholics by which they persuade themselves that all will be right, though the Lord and Savior says that all is wrong, and so rush blindly to their ruin. One of the first of these maxims is this: _Because I'm a Catholic I shall be sure to get to heaven_. Where did such a notion come from? You are sure of heaven only on condition of behaving yourself as you ought. {192} If you have a ticket on the cars and misbehave, you are put off at the first station; so what ever rights you have to heaven in virtue of being a Catholic are forfeited when you cease to live as a Catholic ought to live. If you sin, your being a Catholic won't hinder you from losing all the privileges of your baptism. Where did you get the notion that it's enough to be a Catholic without being a practical one? Was it from the Church of God? The very first word addressed you by her, was in your baptism, when you were asked: "What dost thou ask of the Church of God?" The answer was: "Faith." "What does faith bring thee to?" was the next question. The reply was: "Eternal life." Then spoke out the Church right solemnly: "If thou wilt enter into life _keep the commandments_." Keeping the commandments is here the plain condition for obtaining eternal life, and nothing else. That's what the Lord himself said to the young man who asked the question: "What shall I do that I may have everlasting life?" His reply was in the very same words: "_Keep the commandments_." [Footnote 77] [Footnote 77: St. Matt, xix., 16, 17.] {193} To whom is that addressed? To Catholics. Who says it? The God of heaven and earth. Do you believe Him? If you do, you must give up the idea of being saved merely because you are a Catholic, but expect salvation by being a good one, and keeping the commandments. What's more, the Divine Scriptures expressly state that it is not enough to profess the faith without good works. "_Know ye not that the unjust shall not possess the kingdom of God. Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor adulterers, nor idolaters, nor the effeminate, nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, shall possess the kingdom of God_." [Footnote 78] [Footnote 78: 1 Cor. vi., 9, 10.] Who are addressed? Heathens? No; they are Catholics; the Corinthians who had been baptized and received the sacraments. Under what figure is the Church of God represented in Scripture? As a net that contains fish both good and bad. Yes, they are not all good fish that are in the net; there are bad ones. What is said of these bad ones? That at the last day they shall be sorted out and given to the fire. The Church is compared to a field sown with good grain and overrun with tares. Are the tares rooted up in this world? {194} No, they grow together with the wheat until the harvest; that is, until the judgment at the end of the world: then comes the division, and the burning of the tares. Listen to the explanation of the Lord: "_So shall it be at the end of the world. The Angels shall go out and shall separate the wicked from among the just, and shall cast them into the furnace of fire; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth_." [Footnote 79] [Footnote 79: St. Matt, xiii., 49.] If you are acting on any such maxim you have blinded yourself, you have put out the light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and walk in a way of your own devising, to your eternal destruction. Another false principle of a great many is this: _Because they don't lead what they call very bad lives, they cannot, as they imagine, be among the damned:_ In other words, they don't and won't believe that one mortal sin is the death of the soul. Where did this notion come from? From the Church? I would like to know where. What Apostles, Doctors of the Church, Pontiffs, Priests, or Laymen, that ever wrote on the matter, ever broached such an idea? {195} For eighteen hundred long years the Church, we may say, has done nothing else but repeat over and over that one mortal sin will damn the soul. Did any Priest ever preach to the contrary? I never heard one do so; I never heard of one who had done so. And yet, Catholic people do sometimes get this folly into their minds. An old man, quite a respectable one too, came to me not long ago: "Father, I have a temptation on a point of faith." "What is it?" "I can't believe that one mortal sin will damn the soul. I heard the Missionary say so in his sermon, but I didn't believe him. I think I have heard the contrary from other Priests." I said to him: "My friend, I cannot believe you ever did. It's a notion you've picked up from another quarter." Why, what do we mean when we speak of mortal sin? The very word mortal means deadly. Don't you see, the very definition of mortal sin, is a sin that grievously offends God and brings with it the death of the soul? It is deliberately rejecting God with your eyes wide open. Once is enough. Spit in a man's face once, you need not do it a second time. Play the hypocrite with him once, he won't trust you again. {196} Renounce his friendship once, and friendship is over. Your friend will forgive you many little offences, but trample once on some right, on some feeling which he holds dear and sacred, and once is enough. How many times must you spit in God's face, play the hypocrite with Him, turn your back on Him, trample on His most sacred commandments, before you expect Him to be angry? One mortal sin is enough because it is mortal. Many don't and won't believe this. Hear what they say: "I'm a good one to attend mass. I don't miss it of my own fault more than five or six times a year." "Do you ever get drunk?" "Oh, not a great deal, only a reasonable share, now and again, a few times in the course of the year;" and so on of other things. The devil has blinded them. They are travelling along with the great crowd, singing and laughing, down the broad road that leads to the pit of hell. Listen to what the Scriptures say: "_Be converted and do penance for all your iniquities, and iniquity shall not be your ruin. Cast away from you all your transgressions by which you have transgressed, and make to yourself a new heart, and a new spirit; for why will you die, O house of Israel_." [Footnote 80] That's it. "All" is the word. Nothing short of this will save from ruin. [Footnote 80: Ezechiel xviii., 30, 31.] {197} Another false maxim: _That we shall be saved by the sacraments, no matter how we receive them._ A great many have evidently some such principle lurking in their minds. The way they make confession shows it. The only idea with them seems to be to wipe off old scores and to be at more liberty to begin afresh. The load of sin gets heavy; it begins to press upon the conscience; it makes one uneasy. What's to be done to get rid of it? Pitch it off upon the Priest's back. Then he will become responsible; they need give themselves no farther trouble about it. They have brought the same load of mortal sin now for many years, perhaps every half-year, and, what's more, they really expect to do the same until their death. Some come concealing their sins time and again. If an absolution can be got out of the Priest, it makes no matter how. It is the absolution they want; all the same to them whether God sanctions it or not. So when the Priest refuses, seeing that they are not prepared, they beg for it. {198} "Oh Father, do give me the absolution!" "You are not fit for it." "Oh, but you can give it if you please," they say. Sometimes they threaten, "If I'm not absolved, I won't come again." Sometimes they plead occupation: "If I go away without absolution, I cannot come again without great inconvenience;" as if their convenience should entitle them to absolution, without penitence, and the purpose of amendment. This is indeed taking out of the sacraments all their life and spirit, and reducing them to a mere form. This is what our Lord called the religion of the Scribes and Pharisees, who made clean the outside of the platter, but left the inside greasy and filthy. These go through the form of confession, merely keeping up an outside appearance of piety, but their hearts are full of rottenness and filth. Does the Church teach any such thing? No, far from it. She teaches that the indispensable condition of forgiveness is a true, heartfelt sorrow for every mortal sin, with a firm, unflinching determination to avoid every such sin for the rest of one's life. {199} She is the _Holy_ Catholic Church, and her teaching is as pure as the sunlight on this point; it is clearly laid down in all her catechisms and instructions, so that no one need make any mistake about it. Nevertheless the Lord foresaw that many would blind themselves in spite of all this. He represents them standing at the judgment and saying: "_Lord, have we not eaten and drunk at thy table?_" [Footnote 81] [Footnote 81: St. Luke xiii., 26. ] Yes, we received the sacraments; certainly there can't be any mistake, it must be all right. What is the answer? "_Depart from me, workers of iniquity, I know not whence ye are_." [Footnote 82] [Footnote 82: St. Luke xiii., 27.] Sacraments received wrongfully work out, not the salvation, but the damnation of the soul. So St. Paul speaks of those who, through their sins, did not discern the Lord's body, being weak and sickly--speaks also of eating and drinking judgment to one's self. If this last is a false and fatal error, how much more horrible is it when it assumes a new shape and comes out in this form: _Oh, I will live as I please, and the last sacraments will make it all right. I'll send for the priest before I die_. Judas when finishing his act of perfidy, kissed the Saviour whom he had deliberately and wantonly betrayed. {200} So these desert and betray Christ and his holy religion, and then go to make it up with a last kiss; a kiss full of hypocrisy and only given through a dire necessity that presses them. Is any hope held out in Scripture for the victims of such delusions? "_If ye live according to the flesh ye shall die_." [Footnote 83] [Footnote 83: Rom. viii., 13.] "_What a man soweth that shall he reap_." [Footnote 84] [Footnote 84: Gal. vi., 7.] "_Ye shall cry unto me Lord, but the Lord will, not hear you_." "Ye shall seek me and ye shall not find me; ye shall die in your sins." [Footnote 85] [Footnote 85: St. John viii., 21.] Small comfort this to those who are cheating themselves with the idea of sending for the priest, and receiving the sacraments on their death-beds. Priests and sacraments, if they do receive them (which is a thing extremely doubtful), will do no good without contrition, and who will answer for the contrition of one who has persisted in outraging God through a whole life, and who, now that death stares him in the face, and in the midst of pain and fever and stupor, must set the accounts of conscience in order. The whole demeanor of such persons shows, only too frequently, how little they realize their condition, and what a wretched reliance death-bed repentance is, for the salvation of the soul. {201} Such are some of the false maxims that put out the eyes of the soul. Whence do they spring? From an evil and perverse heart. A man given up to sin must justify himself in some way or other. He therefore makes light of sin--seeks to persuade himself that its consequences are not so dreadful--that after all, when it comes to the very point, God will not allow these consequences to fall upon him. They say a drowning man will catch at a straw. So these persons, though they know the truth, catch at every straw that holds out the least prospect of safety--every flimsy pretense that holds out encouragement for a life of sin; every false maxim that holds out a ground of hope. They call such things up on every occasion to fortify their own minds. They repeat them over to their friends, as if by hearing them a number of times they might seem to have more foundation in them. They like to hear others say such things; it gives them a wonderful encouragement to go on. So the blind lead the blind. At last this false reasoning gets to be so habitual that they fall back upon it whenever conscience begins to speak to their hearts. {202} As to turning to God and quitting sin, that they won't think of even for a moment; so, in the words of Scripture, "_a strong delusion is sent upon them to believe a lie_." It is sent upon them, in the sense that they have drawn it on themselves. To be sure, they don't really believe it, but they wish to believe it, try to believe it, and fancy that they do believe it. Indeed, in practice they may be said to believe, inasmuch as they have made up their minds to act upon it. What a miserable state to be in is this! Self-satisfied and self-blindfolded, to be drifting down into hell, in a dream of careless and stupid indifference! The poor blind man cried out with all his might, "_Lord! that I may see!_" The loss of bodily sight is indeed a great calamity, a thing to be keenly felt. The bare possibility of being restored to sight, should be enough to make one cry out, with his whole soul, 'Lord, Lord, that I may receive my sight!' {203} How much more deplorable when the eyes of the soul are put out! How much more occasion to cry out in agony of spirit to Jesus the true light, that enlightens every man that cometh into the world--'Lord! that I may see! that I may understand the things that belong to my peace; that I may arouse from my stupidity, throw away all false delusions, and square myself by the maxims of the Gospel, opening my eyes to those eternal truths revealed by a God who can neither deceive nor be deceived! Oh sinner! oh careless, indifferent Christian! if you have the least desire to make your hope of heaven a sure hope, one that shall not be confounded, cry with the blind man to Jesus, "_Lord, that I may see!_" Cry aloud, repeat that cry, until Jesus shall turn to you, and grant your request. Show that you are in earnest by taking the means to get your soul enlightened. Go and hear the word of God preached on the Sundays. Don't do as so many do, that go to Low Mass, early, and hear no sermon from one month to another. Make a practice to go to High Mass, where Jesus Christ, in the person of his priest, stands on purpose to give you light. How can you expect light when you close your eyes? How will the truths of the Gospel reach your heart and make an impression there, if you never listen to them? {204} Preaching is the appointed means of receiving the truth. "_Faith cometh by hearing!_" says the Holy Ghost. [Footnote 86] [Footnote 86: Rom. x., 17.] Imitate the blind man. He found out where Jesus was expected to come by; he went there. Do likewise. Go where Jesus is, to the Church; cry to Him; listen to Him; when He speaks through his holy Gospels; read them, and hear them explained by the living voice of his representative, the Priest. Then you will have light; you will have it abundantly, to your great joy and consolation. The promise is sure; there can be no failure. "_If any of you lack wisdom let him ask of God, who giveth to all abundantly and upbraideih not, and it shall be given him_." [Footnote 87] [Footnote 87: St. James i., 5.] Ask for it, and you shall receive it. What is it? The light that shall direct our feet in the way of peace, and carry us through safely to the light of glory in heaven. The light of Christ, "_in which the Priest from on high hath visited us, to enlighten them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death: to direct our feet in the way of peace_." [Footnote 88] [Footnote 88: St. Luke i., 78.] --------------------- {205} Sermon XIII. Mary's Destiny A Type Of Ours. "Mary hath chosen the best part, which shall not be taken away from her." --St. Luke x., 42. (From the Gospel for the Assumption.) To-day is the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. To-day she entered into the enjoyment of heaven. The trials and troubles of life are over. The time of banishment is ended. She closes her eyes on this world and opens them to the vision of God. She is exalted to-day above the choirs of angels to the heavenly kingdom, and takes her seat at the right hand of her Son. I do not mean to attempt any description of her glory in heaven. I am sure whatever I could say would fall far short, not only of the reality, but of your own glowing thoughts about her. {206} Who is there that needs to be told that the Blessed Virgin is splendid in sanctity, dazzling in beauty, and exalted in power? But, my brethren, it is possible to contemplate the Blessed Virgin in such a way as to put her at too great a distance from us. It is possible to conceive of her glory in heaven as flowing entirely from her dignity as Mother of God, and therefore to suppose it altogether unattainable by us; and as a consequence of this, to regard her with feelings full of admiration indeed, but almost as deficient in sympathy as if she were of an other nature from us. Now this is to rob ourselves of so ennobling and encouraging a part of our privilege as Christians, and at the same time to take away from our devotion to the Blessed Virgin an element so useful and important, that I have determined, on this her glorious Feast, to remind you that our destiny and the destiny of Mary are substantially the same. And the first proof I offer of this is, that the glory of the Blessed Virgin in heaven is not owing to her character as Mother of God, but to her correspondence to grace--to her good works--to her love of God--in a word, to her fidelity as a Christian. {207} This is certain, for it is the Catholic doctrine that the Blessed Virgin, like every other saint, gained heaven only as the reward of merit. Now she could not merit it by becoming the Mother of God. Her being the Mother of God is indeed a most august dignity, but there is no merit in it. It is a dignity conferred on her by the absolute decree of God, just as He resolved to confer angelic nature on angels, or human nature on men. It is no doubt a great happiness and glory for us to be men, and not brutes, but there is no merit in it; so there is honor but no merit in the Blessed Virgin's being the Mother of God. Now if she did not merit heaven by becoming the Mother of God, how did she merit it? for it is of faith that heaven is the reward of merit. I answer, by her life on earth. It was not as the Mother of God that she won heaven, but as Mary, the daughter of Joachim, the wife of Joseph, the mother of Jesus. It is impossible to read the Gospels without seeing how careful our Lord was to make us understand this. He seems to have been afraid, all along, that the splendor of that character of Mother of God would eclipse the woman and the saint. {208} Thus once when He was preaching, a woman in the crowd, hearing his words of wisdom, and, perhaps, piercing the veil of his humanity, and thinking what a blessed thing it must be to be the mother of such a son, exclaimed: "_Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps that gave thee suck,_" [Footnote 89] but He answered immediately: "_Yea rather, blessed are they who hear the Word of God and keep it_." [Footnote 89: St. Luke xi., 27-28.] No one doubts that the Blessed Virgin did hear the Word of God, and keep it. So our Lord's words are as much as to say: 'You praise my mother for being my mother; what I praise her for is her sanctity.' In the same way, when they came to Him on another occasion, when there was a great throng about Him, and said: "_Behold, thy mother and thy brethren stand without, seeking thee_," He answered: "_Who is my mother? and who are my brethren? And stretching forth his hand towards his disciples, he said: Behold my mother and my brethren. For whosoever shall do the will of my Father who is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother_." [Footnote 90] [Footnote 90: St. Matt, xii., 48-50.] {209} External advantages, however great, even to be related to the Son of God, are as nothing in his sight, compared to that in which all may have a part--obedience to his Father's will. Perhaps, also, this is the explanation of his language at the marriage of Cana in Galilee. When the wine failed, and his mother came to Him and asked Him to exert his Divine power to supply the want, He said: "_Woman, what hast thou to do with me? My time is not yet come_." [Footnote 91] [Footnote 91: St. John, ii., 4. (Archbishop Kenrick's Translation.)] He does not allow her request on the score of her maternal authority, but what He refuses on this ground He grants to her virtue and holiness, for He immediately proceeds to perform the miracle she had asked for, though, as He said, his time was not yet come. So, too, on the cross He commends the Blessed Virgin to St. John's care, not under the high title of Mother, but the lowly one of Woman. "_Woman, behold thy son._" [Footnote 92] [Footnote 92: St. John xix., 26.] Now why was this? Did not our Lord love his Mother? Was He not disposed to be obedient to her as his mother? Certainly; but it was for our sakes He spoke thus. {210} In private, at Nazareth, we are told, he was "subject to her," but on these great public occasions, when crowds were gathered around Him to hear Him preach, when He hung on the Cross, and a world was looking on, He put out of view her maternal grandeur, in compassion to us, lest there should be too great a distance between her and us, and we should lose the force of her example. He wished us to understand that Mary, high as she was, was a woman, and in the same order of grace and Providence with us. We might have said Oh, the Blessed Virgin obtains what she asks for on easy terms. She has but to ask and it is done. She enters heaven as the son of a nobleman comes into his father's estate, by the mere title of blood and lineage. But no: our Saviour says: "_To sit on my right hand is not mine to give you, but to them for whom it is prepared by my Father_." [Footnote 93] [Footnote 93: St. Matt, xx., 23.] It is not a matter of favor and arbitrary appointment; not even my Mother gains her glory in that way. She must comply with the terms on which my Father promises heaven to men, and therefore the Church applies to her words spoken of another Mary: "_Mary hath chosen the best part; therefore it shall not be taken away from her_." {211} Oh, blessed truth! Mary is one of us. Her destiny, high as it is, is a human destiny. And she reached it in a human fashion. She built that splendid throne of hers in heaven with care and labor while she was on the earth. She laid the foundation of it in her childhood, when her feet trod the Temple aisles. She reared its pillars, when with faith, purity and obedience unequalled, she received the message of the Archangel. And her daily life at Bethlehem, Egypt, and Nazareth, her holy, loving ways with Joseph, and with Jesus, her perfect fulfilment of God's law, her interior fervent acts of prayer, covered it with gold and ivory. Then, when the blind world was going on its way of folly; while one King Herod was deluging villages in blood, and another steeping his soul in the guilt of incest, and of the blood of the Son of God; while the multitude were doubting, and Scribes and Pharisees disputing about Christ, the lowly Jewish maiden, with no other secret but love and prayer, was preparing for herself that bright mansion in Heaven wherein she now dwells, rejoicing eternally with her Son. {212} Oh happy news! One, at least, of our race has perfectly fulfilled her destiny. Here we can gain some idea of what God created us for. Here is the destiny that awaits man when original sin does not mar it; when co-operation with grace and unswerving perseverance secure it. The Jews were proud of Judith. They said: "_Thou art the glory of Jerusalem; thou art the joy of Israel; thou art the honor of our people_." So we may say of Mary: 'O Mary, thou art the pride of our race. In thee the design of God in our creation has been perfectly attained. In thee the redemption of Christ has had its perfect fruit. Mankind conceives new hopes from thy success. Christ, indeed, has entered into glory; but Christ was God. Mary is purely human, and Mary has succeeded. Why tarry we here in the bondage of Egypt? Mary has crossed the Red Sea, and has taken a timbrel in her hand and sings her thanksgiving unto God. True it is that she is fleet of foot, and we are halt and weak; but even she needed the grace of God, and the same grace is offered to us, that we may run and not faint. Listen to her song of triumph. {213} She does not set herself above us, but claims kindred with us, and bids us hope for the same grace which she has received. "_My soul doth magnify the Lord, for he hath exalted the humble, and hath filled the hungry with good things. And his mercy is from generation to generation to them that fear him_." Another proof that the destiny of the Blessed Virgin is substantially the same with ours, is the fact that, in Scripture the same expressions are used to describe her glory and ours. Sometimes those who are not Catholics when they hear what high words we use of the Blessed Virgin, are scandalized; but we use almost no words of the Blessed Virgin that may not, in their measure, be applied to other Saints. It is true that the Blessed Virgin has some gifts and graces in which she stands alone--as her character of Mother of God, and her Immaculate Conception--but, as I said before, these are dignities and ornaments conferred on her, and are not the source of her essential happiness in Heaven. In other respects, her glory is shared by all the Saints. Thus, Mary is called "Queen of Heaven;" but are not all the blessed called in Holy Scripture, "_kings and priests unto God_?" [Footnote 94] [Footnote 94: Apoc. i., 6.] {214} Is she said to sit at the "King's right hand?" and are not we too promised a place at his right hand, and to "_sit on thrones?_" [Footnote 95] [Footnote 95: Apoc. iii., 21.] Is she called the "Morning Star?" and does not St. Paul, speaking of all the Saints, say, "_star differeth from star in glory_." [Footnote 96] [Footnote 96: 1 Cor. xv., 41.] Is she called a "Mediatrix of Prayer?" and is it not said of every just man, that his "_continual prayer availeth much?_" [Footnote 97] [Footnote 97: St. James v., 16.] Is she called "The Spouse of God?" and does not the Almighty, addressing every faithful soul, say, "_My love, my dove, my undefiled?_" [Footnote 98] [Footnote 98: Can. v., 2.] Is she called the "Daughter of the Most High?" and are not we too called the "_Sons of God?_" [Footnote 99] [Footnote 99: 1 St. John iii., 2.] The glory of the Blessed Virgin, then, differs from that of the other Saints in degree, but not in kind. She is not separated from them, but is one of them. She goes before them. She is the most perfect of them. But she is one of them. And for this reason, the glory of the Blessed Virgin gives us the best conception of the magnificence of our destiny. When a botanist wishes to describe a flower, he selects the most perfect specimen. {215} When an anatomist draws a model of the human frame, he makes it faultless. So we, to gain the truest idea of our destiny, must lift up our eyes to the Blessed Virgin on her heavenly throne, and say: Oh! my soul, see for what thou art created. Think of this my brethren, as often as you kneel before her image, or meditate on her greatness. You cannot be what she is, but you can be like her. She is a creature like you. She is a human being like you. She is a Christian like you. And her joy, her beauty, her glory, her wealth, her knowledge, her power--nay, even the mighty efficacy of her intercession--are only what, in their measure, God offers to you. "_Glory, honor and peace to_ EVERY ONE _that worketh good for there is no respect of persons with God_." [Footnote 100] [Footnote 100: Rom. ii., 10.] If these things be so, what greatness it gives to human life. Perhaps, if you had lived in the times of the Blessed Virgin Mary, you would never have noticed her; or if you had known her by sight, what would she have seemed to you but a good little Jewish girl, lowly and retiring in her manners and appearance? {216} or, later in life, a poor young woman thrust away, with her husband, from a crowded inn, or fleeing by night with an infant child? or, still later, the mother of a condemned malefactor, watching his sufferings in the crowd. Herod did not know her, and the nobles of Jerusalem were ignorant of her. She was not one of the friends of the Queen's dancing daughters. Even the rustics of the village of Bethlehem looked down on her. She carried no servants about with her, and had no palace to live in. But Faith tells us of angel visits, of union with God, of heavenly goodness, and an immortal crown. So, in like manner, how our life becomes grand and dignified when it is lighted up by faith! You know there are porcelain pictures, which in the hand are rough and unmeaning, but held up to the light reveal the most beautiful scenes and figures; so our common ordinary life, rough and unmeaning as it often seems, when enlightened by faith becomes all divine. There is a little girl who learns her lessons and obeys her parents, and tells the truth, and shuns every thing that is wicked; why, as that little girl kneels down to pray, I see a bright angel drawing near to her, and he smiles on her and says: "_Hail! Blessed art thou: the Lord is with thee._" {217} That young man who, by a sincere conversion, has thrown off the slavery of sin, and regained once more the grace of God--what is his heart but another cave of Bethlehem, in which Christ is born, and around which angels sing: "_Glory to God in the highest; on earth, peace to men of good will_." That Christian family, where daily prayers are offered, and instruction and good example are given, and mutual fidelity is observed between the members--what is it but the Holy House of Nazareth?--the House of Jesus? Yes, good Christian, do not be cast down because you are poor, or because you suffer, or because your opportunities of doing good are limited; live the life of a Christian, and you are living Mary's life on earth. We have not, indeed, Mary's perfect sinlessness, but we have the graces of baptism, by which we may vanquish sin. We have not, as she had, the visible presence of our Lord, but we have Him invisibly in our hearts, and sacramentally in the Holy Communion. We are not "full of grace," as she was, but we have grace without limit promised to us in answer to prayer. {218} Let us assert the privileges of our birth-right. We belong to the new creation. Angels claim kindred with us. God is our father. Heaven is our home. We are the children of the Saints--yes, of her who is the greatest of the Saints. Let us follow her footsteps, that one day we may come to our Assumption, the glory of which surpassed even the power of St. John to utter. "_Dearly beloved, we are now the sons of God, and it hath not yet appeared what we shall be. We know that when He shall appear we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is_." [Footnote 101] [Footnote 101: 1 John iii., 2.] Every thing depends on our co-operating with grace. How did the Blessed Virgin arrive at such glory? By corresponding to every grace. See her at her Annunciation. The Angel comes and tells her of the grace God has prepared for her. If she had not believed, if she had not assented, what would have come of it? Why, she would have lost for all eternity the glory attached to that grace. But she did not refuse. She was ready for the grace when it was offered. {219} She said "_Fiat_," "_Be it done to me according to thy word_." Oh, how much hung on that _Fiat!_ an eternal glory in Heaven. So it is with us. There are moments in our lives big with the issues of our future. God's purposes concerning the soul have a certain order. He gives one grace; if we correspond to that He gives another; if we do not correspond we lose those that depended on it; some times, even, we lose our salvation altogether. This is the key of your destiny--fidelity to grace. You have an inspiration from God: He speaks to your soul. Oh, listen to Him, and obey Him! To one He says: Abandon, O, sinner, your evil life, and turn to Me with all your heart. "_Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation!_" To another, who is already in his grace, He sends inspirations to a more perfect life, a life of higher prayer and more uninterrupted recollection. Another, by the sweet attractions of his grace, He draws away from home and kindred to serve Him as a Sister of Charity by the bed of suffering; or as a nun, to live with Him in stillness and contemplation; or as a priest to win souls for heaven. Oh, speak the word that Mary spoke: "_Be it done to me according to thy word_." {220} Are you in sin? Convert without delay. Are you leading a tepid, imperfect life? Gird your loins to watchfulness and prayer. Do you feel in yourselves a vocation to a religious or sacerdotal life? Rise up and obey without delay. To-morrow may be too late. The grace may be forfeited forever. Why stand we all the day idle? Heaven is filling up. Each generation sends a new company to the heavenly host. Time is going. The great business of life remains unaccomplished. By our baptism we have been made children of God and heirs of heaven. Labor we, therefore, to enter into that rest. Mary, dear Mother, lift up thy voice for us in heaven, that we, following thy footsteps, may one day share thy glory, and with thee praise forever God the Father, Son and Holy Ghost; Amen. ---------------- {221} Sermon XIV. Mortal Sin Exemplified In The History Of Judas. "Woe to that man by whom the Son of Man shall be betrayed." --Matt, xxvi., 24. (A Sermon for Passion Week.) There are some men whose crimes have made them objects of universal and eternal infamy and execration. One of these is Judas Iscariot, whose very name is a bye-word among men. Most persons seem to think that he was quite a different being from ordinary men, and was naturally a kind of evil monster, without any thing human in him. This is a mistaken opinion. There is not so great a difference between these extraordinary sinners and ordinary ones as is commonly supposed. {222} There are a great many who have an equal degree of malice, but who have no such opportunity to show it. There are others who would become equally bad under equal temptations, but whose evil tendencies are kept under by favorable circumstances, and the absence of great inducements to wickedness. It is not probable that Judas was much worse than the common run of wilful and malicious sinners, until, by a just judgment and a dreadful calamity, he fell into the occasion of committing a crime, the greatest which ever has been or can be committed by man. In his case, the malice that is in mortal sin is only more perfectly exhibited than in others that are less heinous. The treason of Judas is an example, first, of the evil of mortal sin as an offence against God; and, second, as the ruin of the soul. I. The treason of Judas is an example of the evil of mortal sin, considered as an offence against God. The gist of the offence in mortal sin lies in the turning from God to the creature. {223} It is a renunciation of God's friendship, a desertion of his service, a discarding of his authority, for the sake of some created good which we cannot obtain without this complete desertion from God. No one ever did this, or had the chance to do it, so plainly and visibly as Judas. He was in personal and immediate attendance upon our Lord, who is God in human nature. He was the friend, the servant and the companion of the Lord in his visible and human life. He deserted and betrayed Him for a little money, for the favor of the Jewish rulers, for the sake of a more free and self-indulgent life, and to get rid of a cross he was tired of carrying. What can be a more perfect illustration of mortal sin? You have done the same, my friend, when you have denied your faith for the sake of a genteel marriage; when you have gone to a fashionable Protestant church for the sake of improving your business; when you have dropped confession for the sake of indulging with less restraint in worldly dissipation. You need not reproach Judas, for all you say against him rebounds upon yourself, and by your own mouth shall you be condemned, oh, wicked servant! The offence of Judas was heightened by the lowness of his origin, compared with the dignity of Jesus Christ. {224} He was a poor young man, without family, rank, or other claim on the notice of our Lord. He chose him as one of his disciples, and destined him to be one of his twelve apostles, a sharer in the glory of St. Peter and St. Paul. For such an one to betray the Master who had raised him from a station so humble to a rank so exalted was a double crime. But it is just what every sinner does. We have fallen by the sin of Adam into a low condition. Destitute of the nobility of sanctifying grace, devoid of all supernatural merit, without any claim on heaven, we have been raised to the rank of children of God, as a boon of pure mercy, through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. And, if we then sin against God, in what respect are we better than Judas? There was not only a great indignity in his conduct toward our Lord, but an equally great ingratitude. He owed to our Lord not only respect and obedience on account of his character and authority, but personal affection and gratitude on account of his goodness and kindness to him. He betrayed a friend as well as deserted a master. {225} Oh, baseness without a parallel! But beware, lest in saying this you reproach yourself. Whenever you sin mortally you are guilty of the same ingratitude toward Jesus Christ. He has been good to you, too, and you owe Him love and gratitude. But you repay his favors with outrages and offences. To crown all, Judas delivered up his Master to an ignominious death, and imbrued his hands in the blood not only of an innocent man, but of a friend, a benefactor, nay, more, in the blood of his Lord and Redeemer. This was a new and unheard of crime. Men had heard before of fratricide, of parricide, of regicide, but they had yet to learn of that which included all these and more, of Deicide. Strictly speaking, this crime of Deicide can never be repeated. The Son of God gave to wicked men the chance of putting Him to death, once, and only once. But every one who commits mortal sin, is guilty of a crime which partakes of the nature of the crime of Judas. Sin was the cause of the death of Jesus Christ. He died for every sinner and for every sin. Whoever commits sin, then, consents to that which caused the death of our Blessed Lord, makes common cause with his murderers, and thus becomes accessory to his death. {226} II. The treason of Judas is also an example of the way in which a sinner ruins himself. It is probable that Judas was once a faithful disciple. He had a vocation from the Lord Himself, to leave the world and follow Him. God calls to his service only those who are well disposed and fit for it, and we may, therefore, believe that Judas was at least sincere and piously inclined, before the Lord called him. He believed in our Lord's teaching, when he heard Him preach; he followed Him with constancy for a length of time; and obeyed the inward grace and outward call by which He invited him to become his disciple. As a disciple he must have been faithful, and must have shown himself worthy of a higher grace. For the Lord, who knew his heart, and always chooses fit instruments for his purposes, gave him a vocation to become a Priest, and not only that, but a Bishop and an Apostle. With this vocation He gave him all the special gifts and graces necessary to prepare him for the apostolic ministry, to make him a worthy companion of St. Peter and St. John, and to enable him to win like them, the gratitude and veneration of the world, and a glorious crown in heaven. {227} He preached and wrought miracles like the others, and very likely was for a time not only without grievous sin, but really fervent and holy. Reason and experience teach us that he could not have changed all at once from a fervent apostle to a faithless apostate, ready to betray his Lord for money. He must have changed gradually. He relaxed by degrees in fervor, he neglected little things, and did not profit by the admonitions which the Lord gave him from time to time. Thus he went on from bad to worse, growing more indifferent and hardened every day, heaping up venial sins continually, and disposing himself for those that were more grievous. He became unkind and quarrelsome with his fellow disciples, dishonest in the use of the common purse which was intrusted to his care, harsh and repulsive toward the poor people who came to hear the preaching of his Master, and to recommend their wants to his mercy. {228} So he lost the grace of God, fell, we know not where or how, into mortal sin, and became an alien in heart from Jesus Christ, though still in name and appearance his disciple. By degrees he began to despise his Master, to sicken of his service, to disbelieve his words. He was already a slave of Satan, having lost sanctifying grace, and, it may be, faith also. When Satan suggested to him to abandon his Master, to betray him for money, and then to go away and live as he pleased, he dallied with the temptation, deliberated, and at length consented. The devil then took complete possession of him, drove him on, and wove a chain of circumstances around him that hurried him forward to the execution of his treacherous intentions. What follows we all know. Having put the seal on his own guilt and perdition by a sacrilegious communion, he delivered over the Lord to death. His crime being now consummated, the diabolical spell that had been around him was broken, despair seized on his soul, he hanged himself and went "to his own place," bequeathing the memory of his infamous treason to the execration of all future generations. {229} This is the history of many a one, besides Judas. For instance, take this from the life of St. Francis of Assisi. [Footnote 102] [Footnote 102: F. Challipe's Life, vol. i.. p. 91.] "A sixth disciple, named John, and surnamed de Capella, began well, and finished ill. He was charged with distributing among his brethren the alms that had been contributed, and took on himself voluntarily the office of procuring all that was wanting for the community. But, by degrees, he became attached to temporal things, went abroad too much, and relaxed extremely in the observance of regular discipline. The holy Founder, after giving him a number of severe reprimands in vain, threatened him with a frightful malady and a miserable death, as the punishment of his indocility. In fact, this bad religious was smitten with a horrible leprosy, which he had not the patience to bear. He abandoned his companions, the poor of Jesus Christ, and giving himself up to despair, hanged himself, like Judas." This example is no doubt an unusual one, in this respect, that the penalty of this unhappy man's sinful life was more striking and visible than is commonly the case. {230} But it is essentially like thousands of examples everywhere, and in every-day life, in which the origin, progress and end of sin are really the same, though more secret and hidden. So the careless Christian begins his downward career, by a negligence which goes from bad to worse, from small things to those of greater and greater moment, until all fervor is lost, and his conscience falls into a deadly slumber. Then come grievous sins; singly at first, but afterward in quick succession. This stage of the disease lapses at last into the state of obduracy and final impenitence. Sacrilege is very commonly mixed up with it, more or less, as the religions, ecclesiastical or secular condition of the person, or his peculiar character and circumstances, may in a greater or lesser degree expose him to the occasion of profaning sacraments. He may be hurried along into an open, and perhaps, from his station and antecedents, a very scandalous apostacy from the faith, and thus become a declared traitor to his allegiance to Jesus Christ and the Church. He may fill up the measure of his wickedness in some other way; but it ends the same, in self-destruction: not by suicide, but by the gradual and sure destruction of conscience, and of moral and spiritual vitality, ending in a spiritual and eternal death which knows no resurrection forever. {231} So he goes "to his Own place," to the place he has prepared for himself, the place he has merited, the place that suits his moral condition, the place assigned to him as his eternal abode by the unerring justice of God. This is the sinner's progress in following the footsteps of Judas. Negligence, habitual sin, contempt of divine warnings, sacrilege, obduracy, abandonment of God, despair, eternal death. At every stage it becomes harder to go back. Stop, then, where you are; or better still, if it is not too late, beware of taking the first step. If you have not yet gone very far in the downward path, and are only beginning to be negligent, take warning by the example of Judas, and correct that negligence at once, or else it may lead to the most fatal consequences. "_He that despiseth small things, shall perish by little and little_." It is easier to preserve yourself from a great fall, by diligence and care, than it will be to remedy the hurts you will receive by falling, and to regain the height on which you are now standing. {232} You can never tell whither any sin will lead you. You can never calculate the consequences of yielding to any temptation. Venial sins, even, may become the principle of great and fatal disorders, which will lead you to your final ruin. Threads, fine at first as spider's webs, may be so woven together, and become so strong by being multiplied, that they will entangle you in meshes which cannot be broken through without the most violent efforts. Sweep your soul, then, diligently, of these spider-webs of negligence, or you may become, like Judas, an example of one who began well, but ended miserably, and may finish that career which you commenced in the service and friendship of Jesus, by betraying both your Master and your own soul. But even if you have already gone far in sin, it is never too late to go back, until eternal death has actually made you its prey and closed its gate behind you. The case of Judas was not hopeless until after he had placed the halter on his own neck. The Lord never ceased to remonstrate with him until that last treacherous kiss, and though after this He spoke to him no more, and Judas never saw Him again, yet He did not close the door of mercy on him even then. {233} He closed it on himself by despairing. This was the greatest and most fatal of all his sins. Had he hoped in the mercy of Jesus Christ; had he returned to Him in sorrow and tears; had he thrown himself at the feet of his injured Master, and implored pardon, he would, no doubt, have been too late to save that Master's life, but he would have been in time to save his own soul. Even from the Cross the Saviour would have smiled upon him, and the guilt of his treason would have been effaced in that redeeming blood which his treason had made to flow. Oh! sinner, never despair! Even if you have gone to the length of an open apostasy, do not abandon hope; do not place the halter around your own neck. All is not yet lost. Retrace your steps; return to Jesus Christ; offer him the kiss, not of a traitor, but of a penitent; and you will receive from his clemency the pardon of your sins. -------------------- {234} Sermon XV. The Interior Life. "The Kingdom of Heaven is within you." St. Luke xvii. 21. (From the Gospel for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost.) A few years ago, and the people of California were a quiet, agricultural and trading people, by which they procured for themselves the three great wants of life; viz., shelter, clothing and food. They were content with as much as this, for they were unconscious that underneath their very feet, as they were working their farms and gardens, there lay that immense treasure of gold which has since been brought to this city. By chance a lucky spade turned over a clod of earth and stone, on which a yellowish tinge was noticed. {235} It was found to be gold. The report soon found its way next door, and then about the neighborhood, and so went rapidly through the country. The cabbages and potatoes, the peas and beans, which till now had been the pride of the cottage, were pulled up without ceremony and thrown aside, in the eager search that was everywhere being made for gold. The news came over to us, and I dare say you remember well the excitement created by it here. The great tide of commerce was turned toward San Francisco, and such was the haste of our people to get there, that a crowd was daily seen pressing around the offices of the various packet and steamship lines, eager to secure an early passage. We, my dear brethren, are living on the surface of life, with our cabbages and beans, very much as those Californians were, and all the while within our souls there is a mine of untold riches, of which we seem to be quite unconscious. We are leading a grovelling life, when we might be living an angelic one. Our condition differs as much from what it might be as the state of the caterpillar differs from that of the butterfly. {236} They are the same creature, yet how different! The caterpillar crawls upon the ground; it feeds upon roots and leaves, and one is tempted to put his foot upon it as he passes by. The butterfly is a light airy thing on beautiful wings. It feeds upon honey which it gathers from the flower gardens, and is the admiration of every one. But before the caterpillar can become a butterfly it must build for itself a little house of silk. It must enclose itself there, and in proportion as it dies to itself, it lives again in the butterfly. My brethren, this house is your soul. There, with God, is your true life. Would that I could make you realize this. Would that I could realize it myself. Well, in order to do something toward it, I will this morning show you under what beautiful images Holy Scripture describes the beauty of a soul that is in union with God. I will name two great advantages of this union; and finally, I will tell you the conditions on which God offers it to you. I. The beauty of a soul in union with God. We cannot see our souls, and God has no where given us a description of them; but many things are said in Holy Scripture, from which we get the idea of their great beauty when united to him. {237} The soul is called God's "Palace." This is what our Lord says in my text: "_The kingdom of God is within you_." What is the idea that we have of a kingdom? Why, I suppose we call to mind some of the great powers of Europe, with their extensive dominions, great power and wealth. Among the cities of these Kingdoms there is usually one more populous than the rest, where the streets are laid out, and the public buildings and private houses are erected with a view to magnificence; as for example: London in England; Paris in France; Vienna in Austria; St. Petersburg in Russia. The Sovereign's palace is there. This palace is grand in its proportions outside, and it is furnished within in as costly a manner as gold and silver, polished wood, rich silks and tapestry and choice paintings can make it. Well, then, the soul must be this, and more; for it is the palace of the King of kings. Holy Angels are there in attendance upon Him. There He entertains his faithful at his table with the Bread of Angels. It is there that He deigns to hold those conversations with the soul after communion that are so precious. {238} St. Teresa has this same idea under another figure. She begins by saying that the beauty of the soul is incomprehensible. That the mind cannot conceive its real worth, as words cannot express it. Then she says that she conceives the soul to be like a magnificent diamond castle, with rooms above and below; but in the very centre there is a room more spacious and more sumptuous than all the others, where our Lord dwells with the soul. The soul is God's "Temple." "_Ye are the temples of the Holy Ghost_," [Footnote 103] says St. Paul. [Footnote 103: 1 Cor. vi., 19.] We often see engravings of those grand Cathedrals and churches which are so common abroad. There is one in almost all the old towns of England. Their tall spires or massive towers stand majestically over the country, and their whole exterior is elaborately worked in stone. On the inside they are poor and cold enough, it is true, for a false worship has been set up there, which has stripped them of their fine statuary and paintings, banners and rich hangings, which formerly decorated the sanctuary and walls, and they are no longer what they once were, "the Temples of God." {239} There is no correspondence between the size and magnificence of those churches of the olden time, and the formal service that is held in them now; and so a few square yards are penned off in the middle for the handful who will assemble. But there has been a time when those walls were two narrow to enclose the thousands who came to follow their Lord as He made the circuit of his Temple, in the procession of Corpus Christi. Those floors have been covered with kneeling multitudes who waited for his benediction in the Blessed Sacrament. Then, gold and silver, lights and flowers, massive candlesticks and rich vestments adorned the altars with something approaching to regal splendor, for it was the Temple of God. Those cathedrals and churches are now standing, after the lapse of hundreds of years, as monuments of the ancient faith that inspired their erection; but the day will come when, as our Lord said of Jerusalem, "_one stone shall not be left upon another_." But our souls are everlasting Temples. How strong, then, as well as how beautiful, God must have made them! {240} The soul is a "Fountain" of never-failing water. This is what our Lord told the Samaritan woman. "_The water that I will give him shall become in him a fountain of water, springing up unto everlasting life_." [Footnote 104] [Footnote 104: John iv., 14.] I think our blessed Saviour could not have said any thing which would have given us a more beautiful idea of the effect of his presence upon our souls. The deserts of the East are like the ocean in their great, boundless wastes of hot sand. Travellers tell us that for days there is no living object to be seen, even to a blade of grass. Occasionally, however, they come upon what appears like an island, where there are trees, grass and flowers. Invariably it is found that in the middle of these "oases," as they are called, there is an overflowing spring of the purest water. This is the cause of all that verdure in the midst of so barren a wilderness. How beautiful such places must be to the weary traveller, and how grateful to the eye, as he catches sight of them in the distance! How he must bless God as he sits under the cool shade of the rich foliage, or as he bathes his feverish brow and limbs in the cool waters! {241} Well, our souls are so many "green islands" in the desert of this world, and our Lord is the fountain in their centre. His presence adorns the soul with all that fragrance and fulness which we find in the innocent and pure. St. Teresa had a great fondness for this passage of Scripture from her very childhood. Though at that time she did not know the value of this promise of our Lord as she did in after life, she says: "I very often asked the Divine Master to give to me this precious water." The soul is God's "Image." "_Let us make man to our image and likeness_." [Footnote 105] So God said when he created the first human soul. [Footnote 105: Gen. i., 26.] Our souls, then, are like God. God is the perfection of all beauty. As we say, God is truth, so we say, God is beauty. There are two ways in which we are like God, for He says: "Let us make man to our image _and_ likeness." In one way, the devils and souls in mortal sin are like God. They have the gifts of intelligence and free will. This is the image of God which, when a creature once has, it can never lose. The likeness which a soul in the state of grace bears to God, is in the gift of habitual, or sanctifying grace. {242} This can be lost, and the devils and souls in mortal sin have lost it. God has made us pupils of his, as it were. Our Master has drawn the outline of Himself upon our souls, and our work is to fill up this sketch with light and shade. A Christian is therefore an artist of the highest class; for there can be no subject so inspiring as his. What a beautiful talent it is to be able to transfer to canvas some scene from nature, of which it becomes the exact copy. There are certain combinations of water and mountain, meadow and foliage, nature and art, blended and softened by a peculiar state of the atmosphere, which act like a spell upon one. All we can say, is, how very beautiful! But, beautiful as it is, it will vanish before the winter's frost. The canvas, too, in time will moulder away. But the image of God on our souls is more beautiful than any scene in nature, and it will preserve its beauty forever. These are some illustrations from Holy Scripture which enable us to form an idea of what is the beauty of a soul when in union with God. {243} Did you ever know, my brethren, that God had been so good to you? Have you not over looked and undervalued your treasure? This life of yours hitherto, on the surface of things, has been both a great mistake and a great misfortune. II. To make you realize this, let me tell you two great advantages of an interior life. The first is, the great "peace" that it brings to us. Peace, did I say? Is it, then, possible to wear a constant smile in this valley of tears? Can these fretful souls of ours find rest even upon earth? We pray for the Holy Souls in Purgatory, "that they may rest in peace," as if we felt that there was no rest short of Heaven. Can we find it, then, even short of Purgatory? Yes, for it is a share, by anticipation, of the ineffable peace which those holy souls enjoy in the possession of God. Like them, we can be glad while we suffer. Joy and suffering are not irreconcilable! How was it with our blessed Lord? You know He is called the "Man of sorrows," in that his Passion is thought to have been before Him during the whole of his thirty-three years on earth. But all the while, his human soul was in the perpetual enjoyment of the Beatific Vision, and therefore in perfect peace. {244} Well, of this peace, in the midst of trouble, our Lord, as the great Head, allows us, his members, to participate. Hear what He said to his Apostles: "_Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you_." [Footnote 106] [Footnote 106: John xiv., 27.] What robs a man of his peace of soul, is either an inordinate desire for something which he has not, or the fear of losing some thing that he has. Now, the man who lives an interior life, is in the possession of God, who is the fulness and perfection of every good. He does not fear the loss of pleasure, for his highest pleasure is to do the will of God. He says, it is not God's will that I should have pleasure now. Nor of riches, for he fears them as a snare. He does not fear poverty--he will have less to give account of at the Last Day; nor of station, for he feels that there is no nobility like being a son of God. He is living with God and his Holy Angels, as their companion; as though God and they and he were the only beings in the world. Nor of comforts, for he has learned to bear his cross, and he is learning to love it. Nor of reputation, for he seeks the favor of God alone. {245} Man's judgment of him will neither aid nor injure him before his only true Judge. The daily round of bodily weakness, sickness, disappointment, or mortification, is turned into so many occasions of gaining merit with God. It is true of him what the Scripture says, that "_all things work together for good, to those who love God_." [Footnote 107] He is like Midas, the fabled King of Thrace, who was said to have the power to turn every thing that he touched into gold. [Footnote 107: Rom. viii., 28.] St. Basil was such a man. On one occasion he was called before a magistrate, who said in great anger, "Basil, I will tear out your liver." "Well," was the meek reply, "you will do me a great favor then, for it is a great trouble to me where it is." Such a man is invulnerable. To come nearer to our own day, I can show you such a man, in our Holy Father Pope Pius IX. What is the invariable testimony, both of Protestants and of Catholics, as to the manner of his receiving them? Every one speaks of his composure, of his cheerful conversation, and of the sweetness of his smile. Now, where is the man in Europe, who has so much care and anxiety upon him as he has? {246} For whom would we be so ready to make excuse, in case we were told that he was found to be reserved, or even at times out of humor, on occasion of those "receptions," which are so numerous and indiscriminate, and which we would think must be so very tiresome to him? At this moment, while Sovereigns and statesmen are threatening him with the seizure of the ancient inheritance of the Church, which is intrusted to his care, and himself with banishment, not only is he calm, but he prophesies that, from these present trials, great glory shall result to the Church. Pius the Ninth is a man who lives in close union with God. Down in the bottom of his soul there reigns a supernatural calm. With an interior life comes also a strength to do and to suffer, which is naturally quite beyond us. As our Lord chose his Apostles among a class of men whose natural advantages were very few, in order that his guidance and power might be shown in them, so He has adorned the early Church with a number of young female Martyrs, whose amazing fortitude under the severest torture, clearly proves that He was also the source of their strength. {247} Let me give you an example. St. Potamiena was a Nubian slave of a Roman master. He required her consent to something which was contrary to the law of God. On her refusal, he threatened her with such torture as was exercised upon those who, like herself, had embraced the Christian faith. The magistrate before whom she was brought on the charge of being a Christian, commanded her to obey her master in all things, or she should be cast into the cauldron of boiling oil, which was seething before her. She replied: "I have but one request to make: allow my clothes to remain upon me; then, if you will, let me down by inches into this cauldron, and you will see what strength Jesus Christ, my Lord, will give me to bear its pain." This was the cruel death by which, without a murmur, she won her crown of "Virgin Martyr." Let me give you another example of fortitude, which you can perhaps better appreciate. Some few years since, in England, there was a young lady of noble family, and of very attractive manners, who became a Religious in a convent near the town where I then resided. {248} To please her father, she had, for several years past, attended the numerous parties that were given among her circle of acquaintance. Her presence was always thought to be a great acquisition. But all the while, her heart was in religion. She longed for the time when her father would yield, and allow her to try her vocation within a convent's walls. At last, he did; but what was his grief when he found that she had chosen one of the most austere orders in the church. She wished to become a Poor Clare. Now, you may not know that a Poor Clare never leaves the walls of her convent; she never sees any one; she walks bare-footed; she uses the painful discipline, and spends many hours of the dead of the night in prayer, while the outer world is asleep. Here, then, was a young girl who had been brought up in luxury, entering at once upon a life of the greatest severity. When I last heard of her, which was a long time after she had entered this convent, she was said to be as merry as a cricket, and the life of her convent, as she had formerly been of her parties of pleasure. {249} Now, how shall we account for such fortitude as this? I will tell you. It was our Lord in her heart, where she had made Him a home, that gave her the courage and strength she needed to comply with his call to her, to be a spouse of his. That became easy to her, which her relatives and friends could not comprehend. There is no one who can do any thing great for God, without this interior life. I will say even more than this; neither she nor any other member of a religious community, can hope to persevere in any well-regulated convent, on any other ground than this. With this, any one, whether in religion or in the world, can trample underfoot the difficulties and trials peculiar to their state of life. God offers us this interior life, on two conditions. In the first place, we must be in the state of grace. One must first be introduced to a man, before he can become his personal friend. A man in mortal sin is as though he did not know God. He needs to make his acquaintance. He is in a condition that is even worse than that of a stranger; he is God's enemy, and he must be first reconciled. {250} To drive a locomotive at the rate of forty miles an hour, one must first get it upon the track, before it will move at all. You, then, my dear brethren, who are so unfortunate as to be in mortal sin--you can take no comfort from any thing that I have said. I have been offering peace to such as lead a Christian life; but what does Holy Scripture say of you? "_There is no peace, saith my God, for the wicked_." Again, we must be generous with God. Ah! now that I have told you the terms, I tremble for the cause I am advocating. It seems to me that I hear you answering, as some other disciples of our blessed Lord answered him: "_This saying is hard, and who can hear it_." [Footnote 108] [Footnote 108: John vi., 61.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is John vi., 60.] What is it to be generous? It is to give from a motive of love, and because it is a pleasure to give. It is to consider the object to which we are giving, rather than the amount of what we are giving. What millions of dollars are being expended on the Central Park here just beside us? We consider the money contributed, as little in comparison with the importance of the work. It is an object of pride with us to see tins Park as ornamental as money and art can make it. {251} See what generous efforts are being made, by both sides, in this unhappy conflict, which has made a battle-field of our country! Not money only, but blood and life, are as freely offered as water. Our citizens who hurried off to California at the time of the gold excitement of which I have spoken, thought nothing of the discomfort of a close state-room on board a crowded ship, for a five months voyage. They had already sacrificed home, friends and business, and all this was on the mere chance of success. Now, how is it with us? The burden of the sermons preached from this altar, the year round, has been merely to get _justice_ done to God. We have been doing our best to get from you what is barely God's _due_. Our endeavor has been to get you to restore to God those rights of his, of which you have defrauded Him; and at best, we have had but partial success. But to-day, I ask you not for justice, but for generosity. Did I not say well then, when I expressed my fear that God would find but few who would accept his terms? {252} On his part, He offers to come and dwell in your souls. He offers you interior peace, supernatural strength, holiness, and salvation. Now what does He ask of you in return for all this? That you will act the part of a generous friend toward Him, by giving Him a large share of your thoughts, words, and actions. He is the magnet in the centre of your hearts. He is always drawing you toward Himself. He asks that you will put no obstacle in the way of his influence upon you. If disturbing causes for the moment turn you from Him, like the needle which may be shaken so as to point to the East or the South, like it He calls upon you not to rest till you have found your rest again in Him. St. Teresa says, that a generous soul _flies_ to God. She does not say that it runs, but that it flies to God. Now, what are we doing? We are content to creep and crawl toward God, like worms and caterpillars. My dear brethren, I have told you a great truth, I have discovered to you a great treasure. It is within the reach of each one of you. Now I call upon this congregation for some companions to go with me in search of this treasure. {253} I do not expect to arouse the mass of you, as the cry of "gold" from California aroused the people of this city. I know the sad truth, that most people love gold better than they love God. But I _do_ count upon some. You would not expect that I should urge this "Interior Life" upon you, and remain myself as I am? Well then. I am going to try for it, and I call again upon you for some souls, few though they may be, who with me, will try to be generous with God. I call upon you by your Saviour's love in dying a painful and shameful death, to purchase it for you. I call upon you by his still further love in securing to you his abiding presence, in the most Holy Sacrament of the altar. Lastly, I call upon you by that act of his love which would be satisfied with nothing short of making your heart a tabernacle, as it were, where He may dwell perpetually, where He may live your life, and where you may live his life, as true children of St. Paul, who said: "_I live now no longer, but Christ liveth in me_." I have put my question. I have made my call upon you. I leave the answer with yourselves. ------------- {254} Sermon XVI. True Christian Humility. "Every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." --St. Luke, xviii. 14. (From the Gospel for the 10th Sunday after Pentecost.) It is impossible to mistake the great moral of this parable of the Publican and the Pharisee. It is intended to teach us humility. The Pharisee, with all his pretensions to piety and morality, was rejected because he was proud. The Publican, like the generality of revenue officers in that day, was loaded with sins; but he was sorry for them, and being humble, and ready to acknowledge himself for what he was, his prayer was accepted. All piety, therefore, without humility, is false. No matter what they may say about a man's good deeds or virtues; if he is proud, he is no saint. {255} There is no surer test of solid Christian virtue than humility. St. Philip Neri once called to see a sick Roman lady, who enjoyed a high reputation for sanctity. He found her sitting up, looking very weak, and very pious. Being desirous of putting all this perfection to the test, he lifted his dusty shoe upon the beautiful counterpane which covered the bed, and which, as it appeared to him, the good dame regarded with more than ordinary satisfaction. It turned out as he expected. He might as well have put his toe into a hornet's nest, for the pious lady was so mortified at the soiling of her counterpane that she let loose her tongue upon him in such strong Italian terms as came first to mind. "I wish you good morning, holy sister," said St. Philip. We may easily imagine what he thought of her sanctity. Indeed, to prove the necessity of this virtue, we need go no farther than to the example contained in this day's gospel, and to the words of our blessed Lord in the text; for He tells us in plain terms: "_Every one, that exalteth himself shall be humbled; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted_." {256} Since, then, humility is so necessary, let us study it this morning; let us try to discover what true humility is, and to fill our hearts with the esteem of it, and the love of it. Christian humility I understand to be this: _A lowly estimate of one s own worth in the light of Divine Truth_. This is, I am well aware, a definition of humility in the mind, rather than that of the heart; but it is not necessary to dwell upon any such distinction here, for humility of the heart is nothing else than the heart's consent to this lowly estimate of one's self, and practically speaking the two are seldom found apart. 1. Humility, I say, is a lowly estimate of one's own worth. Men are proud because they esteem themselves too highly; and this they do because they look at themselves in a false light. They look at themselves with worldly eyes, and compare themselves with what they see around them. They plume themselves up on advantages which, in the eyes of faith, are of little value. They look too low. The king sees nothing greater than himself, and looks down upon the nobles; the nobles look down upon the untitled gentry. {257} We have neither king nor nobles in our country, but we have a class of gentry who live upon fortunes made by their fathers, and were reared in good society. These look down upon those who have made their own fortunes by some honest trade. The tradesman looks down upon the farmer, the farmer upon the hired laborer, and the laborer who has a shanty, with a cow and pigs, finds some one still poorer to look down upon; and this last, perhaps, is proudest of all, for he is descended from some patriot of the Revolution, or, it may be, from Brian Boroihme. If, on the contrary, they would look at the sacred law of God, if they would study the pure and holy lessons of the Gospel, if they would raise their eyes upward to the high and heavenly destiny for which they were created--if by this new light they would compare themselves as they are with what they might be, and ought to be, the trifling advantages of this world would disappear, their pride would wither away, and give place to humility, the earliest, if not the sweetest flower of the Christian year. {258} But how is it with those who are _spiritually_ proud? Do not they estimate themselves by the light of faith? No. Their pride would soon die out if they did. Faith, directing their eyes upward, would discover to them in God, in Jesus, and in the Saints, what true holiness is, and their poor store of sanctity would show like thumb-marks in a prayer-book, or spots upon the sun. In the darkness of a cloudy night, when only the nearest objects that lie about your feet are visible, your thoughts are bound up in that little circle as if all the universe were near you and beneath you, and you walking on its summit; but when the clouds are driven away, and the moon and the vast world of stars appear, the heaven seems like a measureless dome, and you, a little insect creeping upon the floor, look up in breathless wonder. So the pathway of a conceited devotee is lighted only by a few straggling rays of religious truth, and he sees himself shining as a luminous point in that narrow circle which is visible to his eyes; but let faith open the sky above him, and give him one long, calm, thoughtful look at the world above, and he stands rebuked and humbled. Oh! how little our virtue appears when, instead of comparing ourselves with the worldly crowd around us, we look up to see how the saints have lived, and what they have done! {259} During the Moorish wars in Spain, while the Spaniards were besieging a city of the Moors, a brave Castilian knight advanced before his comrades, at great peril of his life, and for a memorial of his valor, wrote upon one of the city gates: "Hitherto came Vasco Fernandez." His companions were scandalized at his pride, and anxious to teach him a lesson. The next day, therefore, another hero of superior prowess forced his way still farther, and wrote in large letters upon another gate: "Hitherto Vasco Fernandez did not come." This, my dear brethren, is a lesson for the Christian soldier also, and well worth learning. Instead of comparing ourselves with the feeble and imperfect, and feeding our pride thereby, let us humble ourselves before the achievements of the Saints. 2. If humility is a lowly estimate of one's self, it is none the less truthful on that account. We must look upon ourselves as we really are, "in the light of Divine Truth," for this is included in my definition. One may think meanly of himself upon false grounds. {260} One may be ashamed of himself for things which in reality are praiseworthy. There is no virtue in this. Genuine humility needs to borrow no aid from falsehood. She is a grace bestowed by the God of truth. Now, there is something very unhealthy and degrading in this spurious sort of humility, which is founded upon self-calumny and pious exaggeration, for it leads to self-degradation. And this is the reason why I abhor the Protestant doctrine of "total depravity." It teaches men to say that they are, from their birth and by nature, so thoroughly corrupt, that there is absolutely nothing good in them. That there is, in reality, no such thing as natural virtue. That filial piety, honesty, fidelity, love of truth, chastity and temperance, have no merit in the unregenerate man, but, on the contrary, are sinful and displeasing to God. And their doctrine of justification leaves the Saint as bad as the sinner; for although his life is acceptable with God, it is not because he is in reality any better, or that his actions are more meritorious. On the contrary, his righteousness is all "filthy rags," and there is positively nothing good in him. He is justified and saved by faith alone. {261} If you say to them, "Ah, well, I understand you; this faith of which you speak is at least something meritorious, because it is enlivened and made holy by charity, or the love of God. It is this which makes faith so efficacious." No; they will not admit your explanation; there is popery in it; it is only an entering wedge to make way for the doctrine of good works. They refuse to accept any principle by which the good man may be supposed to be really any better than his neighbors. He is regenerated by the mantle of Christ's righteousness, which does not take away, but only covers up his "filthy rags." And his lesson of humility is, to insist upon it that there is nothing good in him. Now, I never saw any one, either man or woman, so bad that I thought there was no good in him; and I am always sorry to hear my Protestant friends speak so ill of themselves, for I don't believe them--I have seen too much real merit among them. In truth, all this is false humility. It is but a form of words, and nobody in his heart believes it, or can believe it. Virtue is not vice. There is such a thing as real virtue and real merit in man. {262} God has given to all a conscience, which is nothing else than His own voice applauding or rebuking. There is such a thing as natural virtue, which deserves a reward in the natural order of God's providence; and there is such a thing as Christian virtue, which is begotten by supernatural grace, and deserves the supernatural reward of the Saints. No wonder that, in the world, humility is too often looked upon as a counterfeit and degrading virtue, which takes away all manliness, hope, courage, and generous ambition, from the soul. Oh, if it were so, I would suffer my tongue to be torn out of my mouth, before I would preach it at this altar. If ever there was a time when we needed manly virtue in the Church, it is now. If ever there was a time when Christianity seemed to have melted into effeminacy and pusillanimity, it is now. The race of Martyrs, of Confessors of the faith, of Christian athletes, of true Sages and sacred Scholars, of men of action who knew how to open their eyes, and men of prayer who knew how to shut them, of Catholic Matrons and Virgins whose hunger after holiness was not satisfied by crosses and medals, scapulars and holy water--this ancient race of Christians has well nigh dwindled away. {263} We of the present day seem to be playing with religion. We are not in earnest. We are ashamed of what ought to be our glory; we are proud of that which constitutes our shame. We have no blushes for our sins; while we are too bashful to be devout, and too timid to practise virtue. We acknowledge that we are wicked; although we do not hold it to be precisely our own fault, but a fault of our nature, and we have no ambition to be better. We confess our sins by throwing all the blame upon the God who made us, and this we call humility. Oh! this is false humility. God made us well enough; our sins are all our own. If we look at ourselves as we really are, in the light of divine truth, we shall find matter enough to make us humble. 3. True Christian humility, so far from degrading, ennobles the heart in which it dwells. It leads directly to hope; and hopefulness is, in all great hearts, the essential element of their courage, energy, enterprise, and success. Now Pride, with her two brazen-faced daughters Self-conceit and Self-confidence, stands directly in the way of Christian hope and courage. {264} In spiritual matters, so long as one depends upon himself, he is sure of failure; for without the grace of God one cannot advance a single step. "_Without Me_," said our Lord to His disciples, "_you can do nothing_." [Footnote 109] [Footnote 109: St. John xv., 5.] With repeated failure comes despair, or at least, despondency; and then all hope, courage, and generous enterprise take flight. But how different is the experience of the humble heart! It begins with self-distrust; it acknowledges its own feebleness. "_For I know_," says the Apostle Paul, "_that there is no good dwelling in me; that is to say, in my flesh. As for the will to do good, that I find present, but the power to do it I do not find_." [Footnote 110] [Footnote 110: Rom. vii. 18.] Not daring, therefore, to trust in himself, the humble Christian learns to lean upon God, and to confide fully in his grace; and then he becomes strong and full of courage, and can say with St. Paul, "_I can do all things through him who strengthens me_." [Footnote 111] [Footnote 111: Phil, iv., 13.] {265} Thus, in the Christian warfare, humility is the first and last lesson of all noble, generous, and heroic souls; for their great hearts are sustained by great hopes, and their hope is nourished by humility. Humility, and that hopefulness and courage which grow out of humility, are also the most efficacious means of converting the shamefaced, downcast sinner. Take, for example, the habitual drunkard. The pledge will not help him long; and why? Because he is degraded in his own eyes, and has no confidence in his own resolutions. What he wants most is courage, and the pledge cannot give him that. The pledge teaches him to rely on himself, and on himself he cannot rely. "I'm willing," says he, "but I'm weak. If you are going to give me the pledge, put it on me strong, so that I won't break it." See how the poor fellow is anxious to find some support to lean upon, outside of his own weak will, and is almost ready to believe that the priest can give him that stability which he so much needs. Now, what is to be done? The only way is to put confidence and courage into his heart; and this is done by pointing him upward to God, the only source of grace and strength, and "_who is able to do all things more abundantly than we can ask_." [Footnote 112] [Footnote 112: Ephes. iii., 20.] {266} Do not take the heart out of him by words of contempt and scalding abuse, but speak to him kindly and encouragingly. "I know, my dear friend, that you are weak; but God is strong, and his grace is able to make you strong. He has had worse cases than you in hand before now, and made glorious Saints of them too. Never despair; you were created for better things. Make one more trial now, and with the help of God you'll shake off this miserable habit forever." That's the way to reform a confirmed drunkard who has grace enough, at least, to be ashamed of himself. Do not strike a man that is already down. Do not make him more self-degraded than he is, but out of his humiliation endeavor to fill him with hope in God. Talk to him cheerfully. Give him a clean shirt and a clean collar. Get him to wash himself and shave himself, and brush his hair. He will now begin to feel like a man; and the next step is to feel like a Christian. Take him then to the Church, and to confession; and when upon his knees, with, a contrite heart, he has confessed and renounced his sins, let him there pledge himself against that drink which has poisoned him, body and soul; and the grace of God will carry him through. {267} In this way, courage and strength are born of humility. It is a virtue that does not degrade, but ennobles the heart where it lodges. I have said enough, I think--all, at least, my dear brethren, that can well be said within the compass of a morning's sermon, to illustrate the true nature of Christian humility. I need not enlarge upon the advantages or the necessity of it. Humility is one of those sweet virtues which carries its own recommendation with it, which needs only to be seen in order to be prized. Enough has already been said to justify that maxim of the ascetic writers, that humility is the foundation of all the virtues. Any mason will tell you, that before you can build a substantial Church you must dig away the loose dirt below, and hollow out a foundation for the walls. This is the first step of all, and until this is done, neither walls, nor tower, nor roof, nor any part of the building can be safely undertaken. It is the same in that spiritual temple which has to be erected in every soul that is saved. {268} Before we build up we must first go down. Humility must first begin the work; must dig up and throw aside the sand and rubbish of pride, and self-conceit, and vain confidence, which have gathered like a loose soil upon our hearts. Then, and not till then, are we ready, with faith, and hope, and charity, and the other virtues, to rear the strong walls, and towers, and arches, with all the parts and ornaments which make the Temple of God complete within our souls. In fine, religion is of little use to one who will not learn to be humble; and therefore an English poet, varying the figure which I have employed, says very well: "Ye who would build the churches of the Lord, See that ye make the western portals low! Let no one enter who disdains to bow!" If any thing were needed to confirm this view of the necessity of humility, we have the words of our Lord himself: "_Unless you be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of Heaven_." [Footnote 113] [Footnote 113: St. Matt, xviii., 3.] {269} Are we then, my brethren, anxiously desirous of saving our souls? Would we be something in the kingdom of God? Would we become strong in faith, great in hope, abounding in charity? Then let us cast pride away! Let us learn to be humble! Let us become willing imitators of Jesus Christ, who has said: "_Learn of me, for I am meek and humble of heart, and you shall find rest to your souls_." [Footnote 114] [Footnote 114: St. Matt, xi., 29.] And let us believe his word, that there is no other way of salvation; for He it is who tells us in this day's Gospel, that "_every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted_." ------------------ {270} Sermon XVII What The Desire To Love God Can Do. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind." --St. Luke x., 27. (From the Gospel for the 12th Sunday after Pentecost) There are two ways in which one may set about fulfilling this commandment of the Lord. The first way is, to do what is barely necessary in order that we may be said to fulfil it at all. The second way is, to fulfil it in its perfection, according to the most generous meaning of the words. When may one be said to fulfil it in the first way? When he has a firm determination to keep clear, at all times, of every mortal sin. It is plain, that in this case he can be said to fulfil the commandment, because, after all, he prefers God to every thing else. {271} When he determines to avoid every mortal sin, no matter what the temptation to commit it may be, he does give his whole mind and heart to God in some sense--at least, really and substantially, though it may be imperfectly. If he does not go that far, he does not in any sense fulfil this commandment. He loves the sinful thing more than he loves God. He is ready to give up God, rather than his will and pleasure. His whole heart and soul loves sin--is turned away from God. He cannot entertain any hope of eternal life: that is clear from the words of the Saviour in to-day's Gospel. The Lawyer asked Him, "_What shall I do to possess eternal life?_" The Saviour said, "_What is written in the law? how readest thou?_" He answered: "_Thou shalt love the Lord God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind_." And the Saviour replied: "_Thou hast answered right, this do and thou shalt live_." You see what the condition is. We must fulfil this commandment, or there is no eternal life for us. {272} Let us not deceive ourselves. If we cannot honestly and sincerely say: 'I am determined to keep clear of every mortal sin,' our religion is vain. Don't build on the idea that we shall be saved because of the Catholic faith we profess. "_Think not_," says Jesus, "_to say, We have Abraham for our Father. Do penance; the axe is laid to the root of the tree; every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit shall be hewn down and cast into the fire_." [Footnote 115] [Footnote 115: St. Luke iii., 8, 9.] But is it enough just barely to fulfil the commandment in this way? No, it is not. One who does not go farther, runs a very great risk of being lost. The fact is, to maintain one's self in an habitual horror of mortal sin requires a great deal of fervor and recollection. In order to do so, one must also aim at avoiding every deliberate sin, small or great; one must really be in earnest to please God, or, in other words, one must strive to fulfil the commandment of the text with a good degree of perfection. That is plain enough to the dullest comprehension. A man may get over an ordinary difficulty well enough, but when a great one comes in his way, he requires all his strength and resolution to overcome it. {273} So the ordinary temptations may be avoided, but there come times which try the soul, great temptations, or unusual difficulties, and great fervor is necessary to overcome them. They come just when least expected, when one is off his guard. Unless one maintains himself, then, in this state of fervor, so as to be prepared for these occasions, he must fall. A ship that is strong enough for fair weather, goes down in a strong gale of wind. A drowsy sentinel may serve as well as another for awhile, but when suddenly beset by an enemy, is slain before he can get ready to defend himself; so the Christian, who goes on the principle of keeping clear of mortal sin, but makes light of lesser sins, will be sure to come to a grievous fall at last. "_He that despiseth small things_," the Scripture says, "_shall fall by little and little_." [Footnote 116] [Footnote 116: Ecclus. xix., 1.] [Transcriber's note: Ecclesiastes ends with chapter 12. Sirach xix. 1. reads "Whoever does this grows no richer; those who waste the little they have will be stripped bare."] The man who goes on the principle of gratifying his passions as much as he can short of mortal sin, will never stop there. He will overleap his boundary, as surely as the sun goes down at the close of day, as surely as the water that eats out the sand from the foundations of a house will finally bring it to ruin. {274} Such a person is not only in danger of ruin in the world to come, but loses the peace and consolation which the servants of God ought to have in this world. There is too much selfishness about him. He is trying to join together two things as contrary as God and the world--an impossibility, as God Himself says: "_No man can serve two masters, for either he will love the one and hate the other, or he will hold to the one and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon_." [Footnote 117] [Footnote 117: Matt. vi., 24.] Now, the Lord intended to remove these evils, to show us a sure and safe way to everlasting life, and to fill our souls habitually with a heavenly peace and consolation, by enjoining on us to fulfil this commandment with perfection, and, as the words sound--"_with all our hearts, and with all our souls, and with all our mind, and with all our strength_." I think this is enough to prove conclusively the necessity of such fulfilment; now let us see how it is to be done. {275} But, at the very outset, a great repugnance and distaste will arise, I doubt not, in the minds of many, at hearing these strong words of the text. It will seem to be asking too much--more than they can dream of fulfilling. In their idea, it would seem an impossibility, even if they had the best will in the world. "What," says the father of a family, "give my whole soul and mind to God? To take care of my children, to put bread in their mouths and clothes on their backs, takes up, and must take up the principal part of my time and attention. I must attend to my business, and use all my skill and prudence and activity to make all things meet. I can not do as the old hermits of the desert did, pass my time in constant prayer and meditation." "What," says the mother, "give all my strength and all my mind to God! How can I do it? I must expend all my strength going up and down stairs, in the kitchen, in the dining-room, in my own room sewing and mending, to keep every thing decent for the children. I must teach them, and look out for them. One thing or another takes up my time and attention the whole day, so that, when night comes round, I am glad enough to get to bed and to sleep as quick as I can." {276} "What," says the young woman, just growing out of her girlhood, "give my whole heart to God, when this dear old world is so pleasant, and I have such fine times in it?" Alas! not the young woman only, but the young man, and the old man and the old woman, too, are apt enough to speak in this way. Dissipation and pleasure keep such a hold upon them, that they seem to be more giddy and foolish as they grow older. And another cry comes up from all quarters: "How can I give my whole heart and soul to God, when the troubles and sorrows of the world, its cares and anxieties and disappointments fill me with bitterness and rage, and excite every evil passion? In this miserable world there is no such thing as tranquillity or peace, and how, without these, can the whole heart be given to God?" Now, dear brethren, whoever you may be who speak or who think in this way, put down that feeling a little while; listen with patience while I propose to you a means of fulfilling Christ's commandment which will smooth away these difficulties, and enable you to do so in a manner most pleasant and agreeable to you. {277} I do not pretend that this means takes away from you all necessity of exertion--all effort and care to do right. No, the words of Christ must hold true: "_Strive to enter into the straight gate_," He says. "_Fight the good fight_," says St. Paul. The prize of our high calling is too valuable to be had without being in earnest about it. But I can venture to say, that by the method I propose, it is by no means so difficult a thing to fulfil Christ's commandment as you may suppose; that, with a little patience and perseverance, it will become an easy and agreeable thing to do so. What is this method? It is--_to excite and keep in your souls an ardent desire to love God_. This desire will do every thing, if it is strong and lively. Now, the desire to love God is a thing natural to the soul. How so? Why, thus. We naturally desire what is good--what will conduce to our interest, our pleasure or profit. We express this by the very word "desirable." As soon as we become acquainted with the value of any thing to us, we desire it, and our desire for it is in proportion to our appreciation of it. So a good name is more desired among noble-minded men than the possession of riches--a substantial wealth, more than the pleasure of the senses. {278} Now, what is more desirable than God? To possess Him, is to possess all that is good, all that is beautiful, all that is honorable, all that makes happiness. As soon as we know, even imperfectly, what God is, a strong desire to possess Him must arise in the soul. It may be transitory, quickly fade away and lost sight of, through the things of the world which occupy the attention, but, whenever we reflect on it, that desire must--it is impossible that it should not--rise up in the soul. This transitory desire, which passes away like a vapor, is of little or no value; it does not last long enough to produce any practical impression. It is what is called a _velleity_, or ineffectual wish, if it is not nourished and made permanent, so as to influence one's life. But since this desire to love God is natural to one who knows what He is, it must be, therefore, an excellent and easy means to acquire a high degree of that love. It is like the oar in the hands of the rower. It is like the wing by which a bird mounts high in the air. Why, as soon as this desire acquires force enough to control the will (and any strong desire is sure to do so), we cannot separate the desire to love God from the love of God itself. {279} God does not measure our love to Him by our feelings, for we may seem to ourselves to have little, while our will shows that we love Him dearly. The trouble then with us, and I may say our only trouble is, that we do not enough desire to love Him; that we do not keep that desire bright and lively in our souls. Surely we have abundant reason for it! Besides the loveliness of God attracting us, our eternal destiny depends upon it--heaven and hell. Only let us turn over in our minds the vast importance of loving God, and we must be compelled to cry out with intense desire: "Oh, that I did love God with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my mind and strength!" I say, then, excite this desire; think, and think every day, on these simple things: Who am I? Who is God? What has God made me for? What is the world and all in it, compared to the love of God? Or, as the Gospel reads, "_What shall it profit me to gain the whole world, if I suffer the loss of my soul?_" Perhaps this fire of desire is almost out in your soul; but there is still fire there--there is one coal at least burning yet. {280} Blow it into a flame! Keep on blowing, and that fire will be sure to spread, until the whole heap is in a blaze. You see, all that is required of you is to think, to reflect. Put your mind upon it with earnestness; and the desire of God must speedily gain the mastery of your soul. When it does so, it will regulate all its motions, and make every thing that was before so unnatural and difficult seem wonderfully easy. Let us see how it would fare then with sin. Only keep that ardent desire to love God burning in your soul, and you will find it a very hard thing to commit any deliberate sin. It is a maxim in physical science that two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time. One must displace the other. So, I say, two strong desires, that are opposed to each other, cannot stay together in one heart. Either one or the other must give way and yield possession. So our Lord said long ago under cover of this comparison: "_When a strong man armed keepeth his court, those things which he possesseth are in peace. But if one stronger than he cometh upon him and overcome him, he will take away all his armor wherein he trusted, and distribute his spoils_." [Footnote 118] [Footnote 118: St. Luke xi., 21, 22.] {281} The strong desire for God's love will take away from the desire for sin all its armor, all its strength, and leave it powerless to hurt us. It had a peaceable possession of the soul before, because nothing seriously disputed its right to govern, but now the desire to love God has made it hateful and loathsome. The strong man has become weak as an infant. When we fix our eyes on sin, perhaps its allurements, and the force of old habits, may make it so attractive, that it would gain the mastery once more. Certainly it would make a desperate struggle for the mastery. But let us look up to God! Let us consider how necessary, how desirable in every view is his love, until we become resolved that at least we will long for it, and continue longing for it, as long as life is long; saying with the royal Psalmist: "_As the hart panteth after the fountains of water, so panteth my soul after thee, God_." [Footnote 119] [Footnote 119: Ps. xli. 1.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Ps. xlii. 2.] Then will all those allurements and attractions of sin vanish. We shall only wonder how such miserable things could have blinded us so long. {282} We all know how strong and engrossing the passion of earthly love is. The lover is taken with some real or fancied perfection of his mistress, either a beautiful face, a noble figure, or, it may be, with what is far more to be prized, some noble qualities of the mind or disposition. His whole mind is taken up with her night and day, and his only study is, how he may recommend his suit. If encouraged with the prospect of success, transports of joy fill his soul; if met by neglect and indifference, he is plunged into the deepest melancholy. If parents or relatives put obstacles in the way, heaven and earth are moved to get them out of the way. This is the burden of so many novels and romances that are read with eagerness by people of every condition and every class of society. If the desire of earthly beauty, of body or soul, so imperfect, so unsatisfying, so short-lived, can thus engross the soul of man, why should not the desire of God's love, who is perfect beauty, perfect wisdom, perfect goodness, and our promised portion for ever and ever, be able to do far more? It will remove all obstacles out of the way. {283} We shall say, as did St. Agnes to her admirer and tempter: "Depart from me thou food for death, for I am betrothed to Him whom the angels serve, whose beauty sun and moon admire." Every creature that breathes is food for death. Sin is the food of eternal death. The idea that mortal sin brings eternal death, eternal separations from this infinite beauty and goodness, must make us regard it with the same horror that fills the soul at the sight of a ferocious tiger or deadly serpent. It will make the occasions of sin hateful, and cause the soul to exclaim: "Away from me, ye frightful temptations! I know you: Ye bear the serpent's tongue and the tiger's claw. Ye carry with you the risk of God's anger and my eternal ruin." Who that loves God, or desires to love Him, could venture into any place, into the society of any person, where the danger of mortal sin is lurking, since he knows that mortal sin is banishment from God? {284} This sacred desire would also consume every kind of deliberate sin, whether great or small. This is the language of a heart that longs after divine love. "Oh! how can I admit this, it is sinful; it will cool away the fervor of my soul, it will prevent me from making that near approach to God's love which I so much covet." Cursing and swearing, lying, slandering, pilfering, and every form of dishonesty, all immodesty in deed, word or thought, anger and foolish pride--how would these all disappear before such a fervent desire! And all this would be accomplished without any violence to the soul, quietly, but powerfully and effectually, and even with delight and satisfaction. For is it not a joy to follow where our heart's desires lead? But this holy desire leads toward God, and away from sin. Again, this ardent desire to love God more and more will make it easy and pleasant to us to perform all our duties. We cannot work without a motive, without proposing something to ourselves which appears good in our eyes. If the work to be done is arduous or difficult, the motive or inducement must be a strong one. Such a strong motive will render what is difficult easy. How easy it is for men to take the longest journeys, endure the greatest labors, when their souls are fired with the desire of providing for their beloved ones at home, or with a noble ambition to serve their country, or even for the miserable pursuit of gain. {285} Only hold out the prospect of success, and any amount of labor seems light to them. Cannot the motive of God's love do as much? Is it not as great? Can it not fill the soul as much as any other? For an answer to these questions, look at what the Saints, holy men and women, have done. Urged and animated by this all-absorbing love, they have not counted life even as dear to them, but given it up freely and gladly under the most frightful torments. Look at the labors and sufferings of others, for example, of a St. Francis Xavier, enough in his case, one would suppose, to kill twenty ordinary men, all endured with the most heroic cheerfulness and joy. No, depend upon it, the labors and duties of ordinary life will seem trifling in the eyes of the Christian who longs for the love of Jesus Christ. His soul burns for opportunities. What shall I do? he says. 'Why do I stand here idle? Lord, send me something to do.' The cares, duties, and responsibilities of every-day life are the first things to be done; sent by the Lord to be done for his sake. Therefore the soul, instead of finding in them a source of complaint, finds an outlet for that activity which she desires to exercise for God. {286} Suppose one would only say to himself, I want to do something to please God and increase in his love. Now, I have not to search for it; it is here before my face. To take care of my family, endure fatigue and exertion for them, to discharge with fidelity this office or employment committed to me, by which I earn my bread. I will set right to work to do it. It is little indeed that is required of me, but that little, and nothing else, is what God requires of me now. Thanks be to Him who has made my way plain before my face. In this way do things naturally distasteful and irksome become agreeable, when the love of God is spread over them. This desire for God's love will also moderate all excessive desire for the pleasures of the world. I do not speak now so much of sinful pleasures, as of allowing the heart to go too much after such as are allowed. Such liberty leads to sin by a short road. Our life is too important to be trifled away. God requires of us not to set our hearts on the pleasures or pomp of this world, because then it is sure to forget, what is of so much more importance, Himself. {287} Now, as soon as the soul in earnest perceives that indulgence is producing this effect, that she is losing the relish for the love of God and spiritual things, she is startled, and cannot but feel afflicted. What, she says, shall I barter away so immense a good for such trifles? The very pain this reflection causes weans her away from pleasure. She judges, and judges rightly, that a small enjoyment neglected for so high a motive, will bring a higher and better happiness. We all know this in every-day affairs. Most men prefer to neglect the pleasure of the moment when they see that they gain a greater one for themselves in the future. How provident, how temperate they are in early life to lay up an abundance for old age! What old age can compare with eternity? How strong then the motive of the soul to moderate all her earthly desires, that she may have time and opportunity to look out for that eternity. The ardent lover of God looks at every thing in such a light. Pleasure becomes irksome to him very soon, because he has something so much more important on his mind, that he cannot, and will not rest easy, unless it be attended to. {288} He is no longer a little child, and cannot amuse himself with running after butterflies the whole day. Besides, a greater pleasure has engrossed and filled up his soul, and leaves no room for trifles. It is the happiness of uniting himself to God. There is no drawback to this. After a day spent in trying, with all his heart, to please his God, he feels no regret for it at night, when he lies down on his pillow. He is not left uneasy, restless, and dissatisfied, as when pleasure, ease, and self-indulgence were his aim, but is full of tranquillity, full of hope, and full of the desire that his whole life may be thus spent in the same, or greater efforts, to please God. The pleasures of the world soon grow to be worthless in the eyes of such a man. With St. Paul he says: "_I account all things as dung, so that I may win Christ_." [Footnote 120] [Footnote 120: Phil. iii. 8.] It is not hard to part with what we esteem so little. The joy of the heart amply compensates for all sacrifices, so that instead of a long face, a melancholy and soured heart, such a one enjoys deep gladness and satisfaction of mind, which grows deeper and more complete, in proportion as he is weaned away from the pleasures of the world. {289} Finally, all those things which are naturally disagreeable, such as misfortunes, pains, sickness, trials of all kinds, become easy and even agreeable through such a strong desire. The Martyrs smiled in the midst of their torments. Did they not feel them? Most certainly they had the same flesh and blood as ourselves. But their souls had a sight of Jesus, surrounded by his Angels, and this distracted their attention from all their torments. So St. Stephen, when he saw this sight, became radiant with joy, and his face shone like the face of an Angel. Sufferings, tribulations and trials are things that force the soul to look steadfastly upon Jesus, and the sight of Him takes from them all their bitterness. So we read that an old hermit of the desert complained when his yearly sickness failed to come upon him, that the Lord had neglected to visit him. The soul that earnestly desires God's love needs only to be told that pain of body or mind, borne patiently, as coming from God's hand, is the surest means of obtaining its desire. Pain is accepted then with alacrity, and with pleasure. {290} To be sure, the first pangs may be exceedingly hard to bear; the soul may require a little time to recollect herself, and gather force to overcome the repugnance of nature. But a little reflection puts every thing in its proper place. Shall I, she says, reject the very things I have longed for, the opportunities of making rapid progress in the love of God? If this does not still the tumult of nature, prayers are resorted to, and in the end comes victory and triumph, a wonderful vigor and refreshment of the soul. This is not merely for Martyrs and canonized Saints; it is a thing that belongs to every-day life--the grand remedy for all the ills we are subject to: "_Take up my yoke,_" says the Saviour, "_for my yoke is easy and my burden light, and ye shall find rest for your souls_." [Footnote 121] [Footnote 121: St. Matt, xi., 29.] It seems strange that the cross of Christ should give rest, but it is so; and the tribulations which come from his hand, as St. James says, work patience, and patience hath a perfect work; therefore it is to be counted joy to receive them, and not sorrow. And such will be the sentiment of the lover of God. {291} So in the Sermon on the Mount, the burden is always: "_Rejoice and be exceeding glad_." For what? Poverty, afflictions, persecutions, false testimony, and so on--they are worthy of joy, because they bring what the soul so much desires. See then what great things the desire to love God will do for you! May the poor thoughts which I have strung together, excite in your minds this fruitful and wonder-working desire. Regard the love of God as the pearl of great price. Consider over and over again the value of it. Persevere in efforts to appreciate it. Say to yourselves--I will not forget. I will continually repeat: Oh, God, make me to know thee, and to love thee more and more! Oh, how I wish to love my God better than I do! Excite this desire in the morning when you arise--during the day, when you are tempted--when you are discouraged--when you have any thing to suffer--in the midst of pleasure, and whenever the Holy Ghost inspires it. At night, take some time to reflect upon the love of God, to sigh and beg for it. Persevere, and it will not be long before your heart will be inflamed with it--your whole life will be filled with it. Your only uneasiness will be because that burning desire cannot be fully satisfied in this world. {292} This is to hunger and thirst after justice. What a blessed hunger and thirst it is, and what a blessed promise accompanies it! "_Blessed are ye who hunger and thirst after justice, for you shall be filled_." [Footnote 122] Filled with justice! What does that mean? Filled so that we shall not want any more. Not filled with money--which will leave us poor and naked at the last hour. Not filled with sensual pleasures, which please the heart in time and burn it in eternity; but filled with justice, that is, filled with God--filled with a deep inward peace and joy during our mortal life--a foretaste of heaven; and filled with glory and happiness unspeakable in heaven itself forever. Amen. [Footnote 122: St. Matt. v., 6.] ----------------- {293} Sermon XVIII. The Worth Of The Soul. "There shall be joy before the angels of God over one sinner doing penance." --St. Luke xv., 10. (From the Gospel for the 3d Sunday after Pentecost.) This is what theologians call an _accidental_ joy. The essential joy of Heaven consists in the perfect knowledge and love of God, and is unchangeable and eternal; but the accidental joy of Heaven springs from the knowledge of those events in time which display the goodness and greatness of God. The first of these events was the creation itself, when the hand of God spread the carpet of the earth and stretched the curtains of the heavens. Then "_the morning stars praised Him together, and all the sons of God made a joyful melody_." [Footnote 123] [Footnote 123: Job xxxviii., 7.] {294} After this the great historic events of the world have been successively the burden of the angelic songs--the unfolding of the plan of Redemption, the birth of Christ, the triumphs of the Church. But lo! of a sudden these lofty strains are stopped. There is silence for a moment, and then the golden harps take up a new and tenderer theme. What is it that has happened? What is the event that can interrupt the great harmonies of Heaven, and furnish the Angels with a new song? In some corner of the earth, in some secret chamber, in some confessional, on some sick bed, in some dark prison, a sinner is doing penance. He prays, whose mouth had been full of cursings. He weeps, who had made a mock at sin. The slave of Satan and of Hell turns back to God and Heaven--and that is the reason of this unusual joy. It is not that a recovered sinner is really of more account than one who has never fallen, but his recovery from danger is the occasion of expressing that esteem and love for the souls of men which always fills the heart of God and the Angels. Therefore, as that contrite cry reaches heaven the Angels are silent, for they know that there is no music in the ear of God like that. {295} And then, when God has ratified the absolving words of the priest, and restored the contrite sinner to His favor, they cast themselves before the throne, and break forth into loud swelling strains of ecstasy and triumph, while He Himself smiles his sympathy and joy. Oh, my brethren, what a revelation this is! A revelation of the value of the soul. There are great rejoicings on earth when a battle is won, or upon the occasion of the visit of some great statesman or warrior, or when some great commercial enterprise is successful, but these things do not cause joy in Heaven. The conversion of one soul--it may be a child, or a young man, or an old woman--the conversion of one soul, that it is that makes a gala day in Heaven. Now God sees every thing just as it is, and if there are such rejoicings in Heaven when a soul is won, what must be the value of a soul! Let us confess the truth, we have not thought enough of the value of a soul. We have thought too much of the world, of its pleasures, of its profits, of its honors, but too little of our own souls. We have not thought of them as God thinks of them. Let us then strive to exalt our ideas, by considering some of the reasons why we should put a high value on our souls. {296} In the first place, we should value a human soul, because it is in itself superior to any thing else in the world. The whole world, indeed, with every thing in it, is good, for God made it. But He proceeded in a very different manner in the creation of the material world from what He did when He made the soul. He made the world, the trees, the rivers, the lights of heaven, the living creatures on the earth, by the mere word of his power. "_God said, Be light made. And light was made_." [Footnote 124] And God said, "_Let the earth bring forth the green herb, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after its kind. And it was so_." [Footnote 125] [Footnote 124: Gen. i., 3.] [Footnote 125: Gen. i., 12.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Gen. i., 11,12.] But when He made the soul, the Scriptures tell us, "_He breathed into the face of man and he became a living soul_." [Footnote 126] [Footnote 126: Gen. i., 26.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Gen. ii., 7.] By this action we are to understand that God communicated to man a nature kindred to his own divinity. The Holy Ghost, the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity, is the uncreated Spirit of God, eternally breathing forth and proceeding from the Father and the Son; and God when He breathed into the face of man, signified that He imparted to man a creative spirit kindred to his own eternal spirit. {297} The Holy Scriptures indeed, expressly tell us that such was the case; "_Let us make man to our Image and our Likeness_." [Footnote 127] [Footnote 127: Gen. i., 26-27.] This likeness consisted in the possession of understanding and free will, the power of knowledge and love--the two great attributes of God Himself. You are then, my brethren, endowed with a soul which raises you immeasurably above God's material creation. You have a soul made after God's image. This is the source of your power. The two things go together in Holy Scripture. "_Let us make man to our Image and Likeness: and let him have dominion over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air, and the beasts, and the whole earth, and every creeping creature that moveth upon the earth_." [Footnote 128] [Footnote 128: Gen. ii., 7.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Gen. i., 26.] In the state of original innocence, no doubt, this dominion was more perfect, but even now it exists in a great degree. "_Every kind of beast, and of birds, and of serpents, and of the rest, is tamed, and hath been tamed by mankind_." [Footnote 129] [Footnote 129: St. James iii., 7.] {298} See how a little boy can drive a horse. See how a dog obeys his Master's eye and voice. See how even lions and tigers become submissive to their keepers. And the elements, often wilder than ferocious beasts, are obedient to you. The fire warms you and cooks for you, and carries you when you want to travel for business or pleasure. The wind fans the sails of your vessels, and the waters make a path for them under your feet. Even the lightning leaps and exults to do your bidding and to be the messenger of your will. Thus every thing falls down before you and does you homage, and proclaims you lord and master. What is the reason that every thing thus honors you? It is on account of the soul that is in you--the power of reason and will--the godlike nature with which you are endowed. Yes, and your soul is the source of your beauty, too. In what consists the beauty of a man? Is it a mere regularity of form and feature? Do you judge of a man as you do of a horse or a dog? No; the most exquisitely chiseled features do not interest you, until you see intelligence light up the eye, and charity irradiate the countenance--then you are captivated. {299} A man may be a perfect model of grace in his movements without exciting you, but when he becomes warm with inspirations of wisdom and virtue, when his words flow, his eye sparkles, his breast heaves, his whole frame becomes alive with the emotions of his soul, then it is you are carried away, you are ready almost to fall down and worship. What is the reason that Christian art has so far surpassed heathen art? the Madonna so far more beautiful than the Venus de Medicis? It is because the heathens portrayed the beauty of dead matter; the Christians portrayed the beauty of the soul. And if the soul is so beautiful in the little rays that escape from the body, what must it be in itself? God has divided his universe into several orders, and we find the lowest in a superior order higher than the highest in the inferior order. The soul, then, is more beautiful than any thing material. "_She is more beautiful than the sun, and above all the order of the stars; being compared with the light she is found before it_." [Footnote 130] [Footnote 130: Wisdom vii., 29.] {300} Oh, my brethren, do not admire men for their form, or their dress, or their grace, but admire them for the soul that is in them, for that is the true source of their beauty. It is also the secret of their destiny. God did not give you this great gift to be idle. He gave it for a worthy end. He gave understanding that you might know Him, and free will that you might love Him; and this is the true destiny of man. You were not made to toil here for a few days, and then to perish. You were made to know God, to be the friend of God, the companion of God, to think of God, to converse with God, to be united to God here, and then to enjoy God hereafter forever. Once more then, I say, do not admire a man for his wealth, or his appearance, or his learning. Do not ask whether he is poor or rich, ignorant or learned, from what nation he springs, whether he lives in a cabin or palace. Let it be enough that he is a man, possessed of understanding and free will, spiritual and immortal, with a soul and an eternal destiny. That is enough. Bow down before him with respect. Yes, respect yourselves--not for your birth, or your station, or your wealth, but for your manhood. {301} "_Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, and let not the strong man glory in his strength, and let not the rich man glory in his riches. But let him that glorieth glory in this, that_ HE UNDERSTANDETH AND KNOWETH ME." [Footnote 131] Yes, my brethren, this is your true dignity, the soul that is in you--the soul, that makes you capable of knowing and loving God. [Footnote 131: Jer. ix., 23, 24.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Jer. ix., 22, 23.] And yet, there is another reason why you should value your souls, besides their intrinsic excellence--I mean, the great things that have been done for them. Do you ask me what has been done for your souls? I ask you to look above you, and around you, and under you. Oh, how fair the earth is! See these rivers and hills! Look on the green grass! Behold the blue vault of heaven! Well, this is the palace God has prepared for you above; nay, not for your abode--your dwelling-place is beyond the skies, where "_the light of the moon is as the light of the sun, and the light of the sun seven fold, as the light of seven days_,"-- but for the place of your sojourn. This earth was made for you; and, as your destiny is eternal, therefore the earth must have been made to subserve your eternal destiny. {302} Why does the sun rise in the morning, and go down at night? It is for you--for your soul. Why do summer and winter, seed-time and harvest, return so regularly? It is for you, and your salvation. The earth is for the elect. When the elect shall be completed, the earth, having done its work, will be destroyed. This is the end to which, in God's design, all things are tending. God does not look at the world, or its history, as we do. We say: "Here such a great battle was fought;" "there such a celebrated man was born;" "in this epoch such an empire took its rise, such a dynasty came to an end." But God says: "Here it was a little child died after baptism, and went straight to heaven;" "there it was I recovered that gifted soul, which had wandered away into error and sin, but which afterward became so great in sanctity;" "in such an age it was that I lost that great nation which fell away from the faith, and in such another, by the preaching of my missionary, I won whole peoples from heathenism." I know we shrink from this in half unbelief. When it is brought home to us that this little earth is the centre of God's counsels, and our souls of the universe, we are amazed and offended. {303} But so it is. "_All things work together unto good to them that love God_." [Footnote 132] All things; not blindly, but by the overruling Providence of Him who made them for this end. [Footnote 132: Rom. viii., 28.] Do you ask me what has been done for your souls? I answer, the Church has been established for them. Look at the Church, and see how many are her officers and members--Bishops, Priests, Levites, Teachers, Students. All are yours--all are for you. For you the Pope sits on his throne; for you Bishops rule their Sees; for you the Priest goes up to the altar; for you the Teacher takes his chair, and the Student grows pale in the search for science. That the Apostolic commission might come down to you, St. Peter and St. Linus and Cletus ordained Bishops in the churches. That the true doctrine of Christ might come down to you uncorrupted, the Fathers of the Church gathered in council, at Nice, and Ephesus, and Chalcedon, and Trent. That you might hear of the glad tidings of Christ, St. Paul and St. Patrick labored and died. For you, for each one of you, as if there were no other, the great machinery of grace, if I may express myself so coarsely, goes on. {304} Do you ask what has been done for your souls? Angels and Archangels, and Thrones and Dominions, and Principalities and Powers--all the hosts of Heaven--have labored for them. "_Are they not all ministering spirits, sent to minister for those who shall receive the inheritance of salvation?_" [Footnote 133] For you the whole Court of Heaven is interested, and one bright particular Angel is commissioned to be your guardian. For you St. Gabriel flew on his message of joy to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and St. Michael, the standard-bearer, waits at the gate of death. [Footnote 133: Heb. i., 14.] Do you ask what has been done for your souls? From all eternity God has thought of them, the means of salvation been determined on, the chain of graces arranged. And the Son of God has worked for them. Galilee, and Judea, and Calvary were the scenes of his labors on earth, and on his mediatorial throne in heaven He carries on still his unceasing labors in our behalf. {305} And the Holy Ghost has worked. He spake by the Prophets, and on the day of Pentecost He came to take up his abode in the Church, never to be overcome by error, or grieved away by sin, to vivify the Sacraments, and to enlighten the hearts of the faithful by the preaching of the Gospel and his own holy inspirations. Why, who are you, my brethren? The woman at Endor, when she had pierced the disguise of Saul, and knew that she was talking with a king, was afraid, and "_said with a loud voice: Why hast thou deceived me, for thou art Saul?_" [Footnote 134] [Footnote 134: 1 Kings xxviii., 12.] [Transcribers Note: The USCCB reference is I. Samuel xxviii. 12.] So, I ask you, who are you? I look upon your faces, and I see nothing to make me afraid; but faith tears away the disguise, and I see each one of you radiant with light, a true prince, and an heir of heaven. I look above, and see Heaven open and the Angels of God ascending and descending on errands of which you are the object. I look higher yet, and I see God the Father watching you with anxiety, and the Son offering his blood for you, and the Holy Ghost pleading with you, and the Saints and Angels, some with folded hands supplicating for you, and others pointing with outstretched hand to the glorious throne reserved in Heaven for you. {306} Have you, my brethren, so regarded yourselves? Have you valued that soul of yours? Have you kept it as your most sacred treasure? Is it now safe and secure? Oh, how carefully do men keep a treasure they value highly! Kings spend many thousand dollars yearly just to take care of a few jewels. The crown jewels of England are kept, as you know, in the Tower. It is a heavy fortress, guarded by soldiers who are always on watch. At each door and avenue there is an armed sentinel. The jewels themselves are kept in glass cases, and visitors are not allowed to touch them. And all these pains and outlay to take care of a few stones that have come down to the Queen by descent, or been taken from her enemies! And that precious soul of yours, before which all the wealth of the world is but worthless dross--with what care have you kept that? Alas! every door has been left open. No guard has been at your eyes to keep out evil looks. No guard at your ears to keep out the whispers of temptation. {307} No guard at your lips to stop the way to the profane or filthy word. Nay, not only have you kept up no guard, but you have carried your soul where soul-thieves congregate. The Holy Scripture says: "_A net is spread in vain before the eyes of a bird_." [Footnote 135] [Footnote 135: Prov. i., 17.] Yes, the birds and beasts are cunning enough to avoid an open snare; but you go rashly into dangers that are apparent to all but you. Sinners lie in wait for you. They say, in the language of Scripture: "_Come, let us lie in wait for blood; let us hide snares for the innocent without cause. Let us swallow him up alive like hell, and whole as one that goeth down into the pit_."--and you trust yourself in their power. Oh, fly from them! Consider the treasure you carry. "_What shall it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul?_" Will you sin against your own soul? you that are made after God's likeness; you that are princely and of noble rank, will you defile that image, and degrade yourselves to a level with the brutes that perish? {308} But there are others whose offence is of an other kind. They let their salvation go by sheer neglect. If a man plants a seed, he must water it, or it will not grow. So the soul needs the dew of God's grace; and prayer and the Sacraments are the channels of God's grace. Yet how men neglect the Sacraments! Even at Easter, when we are obliged to receive them, some absent themselves. It has been a matter of the keenest pain to us to miss some members of this congregation during the late Paschal season. You say, you have nothing on your conscience, and it is not necessary to go to confession. But is it not necessary to go to Communion? Will you venture to deprive yourselves of that food of which, unless ye eat, the Saviour has said: "_Ye have no life in you?_" Oh! you have a sad story to tell. You have fallen into mortal sin, and you are afraid to come. But do you think we have none of the charity of the Angels? Only convert truly, for it is a true conversion that gives the Angels joy, and we can give you the promise that Thomas à Kempis puts into the mouth of Him whose place we fill: "How often soever a man truly repents and comes to me for grace and pardon, as I live, saith the Lord, who desireth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should be converted and live, I will not remember his sins any more, but all shall be pardoned him." {309} And to you, my brethren, who, during the Easter season just past, have recovered the grace of God, I have a word of advice to give in conclusion. Keep your souls with all diligence. Keep your souls; that is your chief, your only care. Keep them by fleeing from the occasions of sin. Keep them by overcoming habitual sins. Nourish them by prayer and the sacraments. How great a disgrace, that all the irrational world should do the will of God, and you, the rulers of the world, should not do it! "_The kite in the air hath known her time; the turtle, and the swallow, and the stork have observed the time of their coming; but my people have not known the judgment of the Lord_." [Footnote 136] [Footnote 136: Jer. viii., 7.] How great an evil it is in a State when an unworthy Ruler is at its head. The people mourn and languish, and at last rebel. So, when a man neglects the end for which he was made, the whole creation cries out against him. The stones under his feet cry out. The air he breathes, the food he eats, protest against the abuse he makes of them. {310} Balaam's ass rebuked the madness of the Prophet; so when you live in sin, the very beasts reproach you. Your horse, your cow, your dog, your pigs cry out: "If we had souls we would not be as you. Now we serve God blindly, and of necessity; but if we had souls, it would be our pride and happiness to give Him our willing service." All things praise the Lord;--"showers and dew;" "fire and heat;" "mountains and hills;" "seas and rivers;" "beasts and cattle." O, sons of men, make not a discord in the universal harmony! Receive not your souls in vain! Serve God; "praise Him and exalt Him forever." --------------------- {311} Sermon XIX. Merit The Measure Of Reward. "Behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with Me, to render to every man according to his work." --Apoc. xxii., 12. Society is made up of numerous classes of persons, of very varied position and attainments. How marked is the line, for instance, which divides the man who lives in the Fifth Avenue, anywhere below Fortieth street, from the occupant of a shanty on the outskirts of the city! Again, what point of contact is there between the man of science or literature, whose life is spent in intellectual pursuits, and the vacant lounger that hangs around our steamboat landings and wharves? These men move in separate spheres, and have scarcely anything in common. {312} They are like two different races of men. The difference is perhaps less marked in this country than elsewhere, inasmuch as royalty and nobility and hereditary titles do not exist here. But even in this country there is a clear line of division between distinct classes of persons. Shall this always be so? Shall these accidental and artificial barriers survive death? How will it be in heaven? No, my dear brethren, these particular lines of division, of rich and poor, learned and unlearned, shall cease with this world; but others will be set up in their place. There is an aristocracy, there is a hierarchy, in Heaven. St. Paul, after saying, "_There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars, for star differeth from star in glory_," adds, "_so also is the resurrection of the dead_." [Footnote 137] [Footnote 137: 1 Cor. xv., 41, 42.] St. Teresa calls this difference "a prodigious inequality." We must not imagine, however, that these various ranks of glory in Heaven are founded upon such accidents as birth or good fortune. They are founded upon that proportion of merit which we shall have gained, each one by his good deeds in this life. {313} The amount of grace and personal holiness that we possess when we appear in judgment before the Lord, this, and not wealth, or position, or gifts of any kind, will be the standard by which we take a high or low place there. It is about this principle of "personal merit" before God, and in view of Heaven, that I am going to speak to you this morning. In order to do this, I shall speak of the certainty of merit, of the sources of merit, and the conditions of merit. I. The Certainty Of Merit. What is meant by merit? It is that supernatural reward, which God has promised by way of justice, to a good work done in the state of grace. God has made a contract with us, as it were, in virtue of which He has given us the privilege of claiming eternal happiness from Him on certain conditions. Let me show you how this is the teaching of Holy Scripture. "_Rejoice and be glad, for great is your reward in heaven_." [Footnote 138] [Footnote 138: St. Matt, v., 12.] {314} Our Lord, you see, uses the word reward which I have used. "_Every one shall receive his own reward according to his labor_." [Footnote 139] [Footnote 139: 1 Cor. iii., 8.] St. Paul here adds another idea to that of reward, namely, that it shall be given according to one's labor, or good works. This is what our Lord says in the words of my text: "_Behold I come quickly, and my reward is with me, to render to every man according to his work_." "_For the rest there is laid up for me a crown of justice, which the Lord the just Judge will give me in that day; and not to me only, but to them also who love his coming_." [Footnote 140] [Footnote 140: 2 Tim. iv., 8.] In this passage St. Paul tells us another truth about the principle of final rewards. He says they shall be given by way of justice. The time for mercy will then have passed, and we shall be weighed in the balance of justice, and our reward shall be in strict proportion to the weight of merit we have cast into the scale. "_Therefore, my beloved brethren_ (he writes to the Corinthians), _be ye firm and immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord; knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord_." [Footnote 141] [Footnote 141: 1 Cor. xv., 58.] {315} Then, there is that passage of which I have already spoken, where St. Paul illustrates the diversity of rewards. "_For there is one glory of the sun, another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star differeth from another star in glory. So also shall it be in the resurrection from the dead._" Thus from Holy Scripture we get these several facts with regard to the rewards of the next life, namely, first, that it is a reward, and not merely a favor from God. Next, that it is a reward for good works. Thirdly, that this reward is given by way of justice. And lastly, that these rewards differ as widely from one another as do the several lights of the sun, moon, and stars. But of what use is Holy Scripture to us without Her interpretation, whose office it is to interpret, as it has been to preserve it? I will quote you two, out of many, decrees which the Holy Church made on this matter at the Council of Trent. "If any one shall say that the just ought not for their good works done in God, to expect and hope for an eternal recompense from God, through his mercy and the merits of Jesus Christ, if so be that they persevere to the end in well doing, and in keeping the Divine commandments, let him be anathema." {316} Again, "If any one shall say that the good works of a justified man are in such sense the gifts of God, that they are not also the merits of the justified man himself, let him be anathema." It is then certain, both from Holy Scripture and from the decisions of Holy Church, that we can merit the possession of heaven as a right, by our good works. But you will say, if this be true, does it not tend to cherish in us a spirit of self-sufficiency, and of independence of God? No, it does not; and for the reasons I am now going to give you, in speaking on the second point, namely: II. The Sources Of Merit. There are two sources of merit, neither of which are in ourselves, but both of them are in God. One is the goodness of God; the other, the merits of Christ. 1. My brethren, God is not bound to his creatures except so far as He has been pleased to bind Himself. He could have lived on as well without any creation at all. And even now that he has created our race, his promise is the only measure of our rights and privileges. These promises were forfeited by our first parents, and God might never have renewed them to us, their posterity. {317} But "_God so Loved the world as to give his only begotten Son, that whoever believeth in Him may not perish, but may have life everlasting_." [Footnote 142] [Footnote 142: John iii., 16.] "_Behold what charity the Father hath bestowed upon us_," says St. John in his Epistle, "_that we should be called, and that we should be the sons of God_." [Footnote 143] [Footnote 143: 1 John iii., 1.] It is because we are sons of God, "and joint heirs with Christ," that God has honored us so much, and made it possible for us to merit by our good works. In order however, to keep us humble and to make us mindful that in all things we are indebted to his goodness, God has reserved to Himself two graces which we cannot merit, and without which we cannot be saved. These are the gifts of sanctifying grace and of final perseverance. A man is not likely to take airs upon himself and be insolent to you, when he is lying on the broad of his back in the road, and cannot stir hand or foot to help himself. No, he is most likely to address you in terms of supplication and entreaty. {318} Well, this is our condition when God, of his pure love, bestows upon us the gift of sanctifying grace. Then, again, though we should have this gift to-day, we may lose it to-morrow, and but for God's continued graces we would infallibly lose it. Can you imagine a dependence which is more pure than ours is upon God? An infant is not more dependent upon its mother for the preservation of its physical life, than we are upon God for our spiritual life. "Give us this day our daily bread," is our every morning prayer. We are like little birds in a nest before they are able to fly. All we can do is to make a piteous cry, and hold up our mouths to be filled. Where, then, is there room for presumption in such teaching as this? Now, let me go on to my second source of merit, which is the merit of Christ. 2. We are in a double sense indebted to our Blessed Lord. He is not only our Creator, our Preserver, and our Benefactor, but He is also our Redeemer. It is by his bitter Passion and Death, and in union with these, that what we do in his name has a value and a price in the sight of the Eternal Father. It is that precious Blood of his which is poured into our soul in holy Baptism; it is that precious Blood of his which we drink in Holy Communion, that constitutes the pure and holy source of every good and meritorious act of ours. {319} He has Himself explained how this is, in the parable of the vine. "_I am the vine, ye the branches. He that abideth in Me, and I in him, he beareth much fruit_." [Footnote 144] [Footnote 144: John xv., 5.] Let us now try to get at our Lord's meaning. It is quite common nowadays to see a grapery in a gentleman's country garden. The entire roof of those ornamental glass-houses is covered with luxuriant vines; and they in turn are loaded with rich green leaves, and with beautiful bunches of grapes. The sap has made its course through the length of the vine, and into the various branches. Here it has forced out a green leaf, and there a bunch of fruit. These it continues to feed, by a continuous flow, until the leaf has gained its size and color, and the fruit its delicacy of flavor. Both leaf and fruit owe their existence, their beauty, and whatever is excellent in them, to this sap, which is the source of all; but will you say that they do not have these things in themselves? Will you say that the grapes are not really fine flavored, but only called so because they belong to an excellent vine? {320} No, certainly not. You say the grapes are fine, because they really are fine, because they answer in point of taste to what you understand by that term. They have in themselves a something which is not accidental to them, but which is an essential quality in grapes of that kind, namely, that delicate flavor which has established their worth. Now, apply this to ourselves. We are united to our Lord through the Sacraments, as branches to a vine. His grace is that precious Sap which has been let in upon our souls, through those seven main channels. They cleanse and purify our souls. They sanctity them, and make them beautiful and pleasing to God. The acts of the soul, so long as it is united to God by this divine gift of grace, are at the same time the acts of grace. They are good and meritorious, inasmuch as they are done by the co-operation of grace with our intelligence and free will. By rewarding such acts as these, God rewards the works of his own hands. This is what St. Augustine says: "When God crowns our merits, He does no more than crown his own gifts." {321} Let me illustrate this in another way. St. Paul says, in his second Epistle to the Corinthians, "_I have espoused you to one husband, that I may present you as a chaste virgin to Christ_." [Footnote 145] [Footnote 145: 2 Cor. xi., 2.] Here he calls the soul the wife, and Christ its husband. By this we are to understand, that the grace of Christ in the soul enables it first to conceive good desires, and then to bring forth good works, which are, as it were, the children of the soul. Thus a dignity and worth are communicated to them, which are, in a true sense, divine. Suppose, for instance, a Prince of royal blood were to marry a peasant girl. Her children would unquestionably have royal blood in their veins, how ever obscure may have been the parentage of their mother. They would be entitled to the right of succession, and could claim the throne of their father. Well, in like manner our good works, having God as their Author, are able to claim from Him a supernatural reward. {322} III. The Conditions Of Merit. There is one condition of being able to do a good supernatural work, which always comes first, and that is, that the person shall be in the state of grace when he does it. God can find no pleasure in us so long as our will and affections are turned away from Him, and this is the case when we are in mortal sin. Again, our merit will be in proportion to the excellence of the work in itself considered. One apple is better than another, though both have grown upon the same branch. To attend the bedside of some poor sick person, is a more excellent work than merely to bestow an alms upon him. To be contrite for one's sins, is more excellent than to do penitential works in expiation of them. To forgive the injury of one's enemy, is more excellent than to pardon the unkindness of an acquaintance. The poorest effort at self-control, is better than the best advice given to another. I remember a story which shows what even one excellent work will do for a soul. It is in "The Lives of the Fathers of the Desert." A monk, who was serving God with much prayer and self-denial, was tempted with the desire to see a man whose merit in the sight of God should be the very counterpart of his own. God gratified his weakness. He was directed to go to a certain inn in a neighboring village where he would see such a man. {323} On reaching it, there stood before the door a poor fiddler playing for pennies. The monk understood, by an interior light, that this was the man. Much surprised, and rather mortified too, he nevertheless addressed the fiddler, and asked him what sort of a life he had led, and what he was then doing for God? He answered, that he had, for many years, gained a poor but honest livelihood in the same humble employment. That as to his having done any thing very good, he did not know about that, although there was one thing that he always remembered with a great deal of satisfaction. "With some danger to myself, I once rescued a poor girl from those who would have ruined her." The good monk was made to understand, that for preventing that outrage, God had raised this poor fiddler to a great purity of soul. A good work, again, is more excellent in proportion as it is more difficult. What a consolation this ought to be to us! How hard we think it sometimes to get on in life, with its multiplied vexations and discouragements! {324} We say, "What a strange world!" "What a weary world!" In the language of Holy Scripture we say, "_In the morning, who will grant me evening? and at evening, who will grant me morning?_" [Footnote 146] as though things were turning out very different from what we had a right to expect. [Footnote 146: Deut. xxviii., 57.] [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Deut. xxviii., 67.] Ah! God has been good to us in the planning out of our lives, better than we should be, if we had all the planning to ourselves. I have shown you that future rewards are to be determined by merit; now our merits are measured by our trials. By your own admission then, this world, in being full of trials, most completely answers the end for which God created it. If we could but get into the habit of looking at things from this point of view, the face of life would be lit up with a perpetual sunshine. Yes, the harder our state of life is to bear, the more difficulties we find in following our Lord, the more laborious the work, so much the brighter are our prospects for the life to come, if we prove faithful to the end. {325} How well the mother of the Maccabees, that noble woman, knew this! Holy Scripture says: "_She was to be admired above measure, and worthy to be remembered by good men, who beheld her seven sons slain in the space of one day, and bore it with a good courage for the hope she had in God_." [Footnote 147] [Footnote 147: 2 Maccabees vii., 20.] As the youngest, her last and dearest, was about to be put to death, she encouraged him to be resolute; and he went to a martyr's reward under the influence of a consoling thought, which he thus beautifully expressed: "_My brethren having now undergone a short pain, are under the covenant of eternal life_." Again, our merit is in proportion to the purity of the intention with which we do the work. The intention we make, either actual or habitual, is the chalice, as it were, in which we make our offerings to God. It is even more than this; for the excellence of the intention is imparted to the work itself, and becomes the measure of its merit. I once saw some wooden goblets in the window of an apothecary shop. Being curious to know what they were for, I was told by the clerk that they were made of quassia, a peculiar kind of wood which imparted to pure water, when drank from these goblets, a most healthy tonic. {326} Now, so it is with a pure intention. If the work that we do for God is only pure and good in itself, the intention will communicate to it its own peculiar excellence, and the work will receive the reward of that excellence, which has become its own. Suppose, for instance, you hear Mass from a mere motive of duty, as being a Catholic. It is a supernatural work, and it will secure a supernatural reward. But to that intention you have added another the next time you hear Mass; namely, the intention of doing penance for your sins. Well, the same act is now doubly meritorious. The third time you hear Mass from a pure desire to make reparation to our Lord for all the injuries He has received in the Blessed Sacrament, and your intention is more excellent still, and, if united with the other two, will merit a three-fold reward. Again, great merit is gained by small things done for God. This is surely very encouraging for us who have not the abilities, or the opportunities, of doing great things. Of course I mean great things as the world views them. {327} A check put upon a wrong thought; the arrest of an improper word; the silence to which we have forced ourselves, when we feel within us the swelling of anger; the call we make upon a sick neighbor in passing; the alms we bestow, however small; the effort to be patient under sickness or pain; the kind word of advice to the erring; each such act as these, will be a passport at the gate of Heaven. And now, dear brethren, I repeat once more what I said when I began. There is an aristocracy, there is a hierarchy, in Heaven. As there are nine choirs of Angels, and, so St. John tells us, except "the one hundred and forty four thousand" who had consecrated their virgin bodies as first-fruits to God, none could sing the "_new song_" or "_follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth_," so shall it be forever. I will say more; and this is what I wish especially to impress upon your minds. You must already have gathered it from what I have said. It is this. That aristocracy, that hierarchy, is in process of formation at this moment. It is not determined by an arbitrary choice in heaven, but on the principle of personal merit, here on earth. {328} How is it with a large body of students at one of our colleges or universities? They are class-mates, or even room-mates, for years, but look at them after the lapse of twenty years, and what are their respective positions? One is a merchant, in a small way, in a country town of a new state; while the other is representing his country as Minister at a first-class foreign court. One is a village physician, while the other is the nation's choice to fill the Presidential Chair. So shall it be with families. Some will scarcely be saved, while others will fill up the ranks of the seraphs, which were broken at the time of Lucifer's rebellion. Where, I ask, shall our place be in this hierarchy? Our Lord says: "_The last shall be first, and the first last_." Where shall we be? Grace and a good will are the only materials wanting in the formation of a Saint Aloysius, a Saint Stanislas, or a Saint Elizabeth of Hungary; and these are in the reach of every one. What shall I say in conclusion, dear brethren, to spur you on to do good works? I will ask you to look back upon the past. Does it not lie in your memory in all the blackness and barrenness of a western prairie, over which the desolating fire of the savage has passed? {329} Where can you find the trace of any real care of your souls? Where your good works? Where your merit? At least let us resolve now, while our hearts are warm, that we will improve the present, remembering that "_what things a man shall sow, those also shall he reap;_" and that "_he that soweth in the Spirit, shall reap life everlasting_." [Footnote 148] [Footnote 148: Gal. vi., 8.] --------------- {330} Sermon XX. Self-denial. "We came into the land to which thou sentest us, which in very deed floweth with milk and honey, as may be known by these fruits." --Num. xiii., 28. [Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Num. xiii., 27.] (A Sermon for the first Sunday in Lent.) When the ancient people of Israel, after traversing the desert of Arabia, drew nigh to the promised land of Canaan, Moses, their prophet and leader, sent out one of every tribe to view the country, that they might be able to bring back an accurate account of it--of its productiveness, the number and strength of its population, and its means of defence. These spies, upon their return, were all agreed in regard to the wonderful fertility of the country, but in other respects their account was very discordant. {331} One of their number, Caleb the son of Jephone, was full of enthusiasm, and said to the people: "_Let us go up and possess the land, for we shall be able to take it!_" But the others that had been with him spoke ill of the country, representing it as unhealthy, and impossible to be conquered. "_The land which we have viewed devoureth its inhabitants; the people that we beheld are of a tall stature. There we saw monsters of the sons of Enac, of the giant kind, in comparison of whom we seemed like locusts_." Why did these last give such a different account from the first? It was because they were cowardly, and afraid of the inhabitants of Canaan, and this blinded them to the fertility of its soil, its fine fruits and great beauty. Their fears caused them to exaggerate difficulties, and to overlook blessings which were within their reach. This party of pusillanimous Israelites represent a portion of the Christian world in our day, who, taking counsel of their fears, and consulting their ease, speak of the practice of self-denial, and the virtue of penance, as something to be dreaded, unnecessary, and even criminal. "_It is a land which devoureth its inhabitants!_" {332} They imagine insurmountable obstacles in the way. "_We saw there monsters of the sons of Enac, of the giant kind_." If their souls were of a more robust make, if their hearts were a little larger, their error would be dispelled, and they would see that a life of Christian mortification, instead of devouring them, would introduce them to the enjoyment of spiritual advantages and pleasures such as they never yet conceived of. They would find it a land "_which in very deed floweth with milk and honey, as may be known by these fruits_." Their error concerning the virtue of Self-denial is owing in some measure to a misconception of its true meaning. To establish its true meaning, let us ask ourselves first of all, what is a true Christian life? The little catechism tells us that man was created to know God, to love Him and to serve Him in this world, and be forever happy with Him in the next. A true Christian life, then, consists in knowing, loving and serving God. If we give any other direction to our thoughts, or affections, or actions, we live falsely. Self-denial, as a Christian virtue, consists in renouncing all misdirection of the powers of the soul, or in setting aside all things which stand in the way of our realizing the great end for which we were created. Complete self-denial places the soul in true and complete relations with God. {333} Man has become in a great measure the servant and slave of the appetites and passions of his inferior nature, and by every act of self-denial he recovers his lost superiority, and renders himself again their master. Whenever, therefore, we find our passions and appetites are leading us astray, we should resist them, and practise self-denial and mortification. If a man, for instance, finds that his sensual appetites lead him to gluttony and drunkenness, he should fast and practise sobriety. If pride and vanity are entering his heart, he should exercise himself in humility. When he finds that the love of riches is making him miserly, he should be liberal to the poor. Anger must be overcome by meekness, incontinence by chastity, and sloth by vigilance and action. Briefly, the office of self-denial is to deny to the instincts of our lower nature what is contrary to right reason, and to God's holy law. {334} Should there, however, arise conflicting claims between our higher and lower nature, then the renunciation of one good for another of a higher order must be practised; according to the words of Christ: "_If thine eye scandalize thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee_." [Footnote 149] [Footnote 149: St. Matt, xviii., 9.] For what, after all, are created things, or the members of a man's body, or even his life, compared with the eternal salvation of his soul? Men do not hesitate to sacrifice the less to save the greater; to cut away the masts of a ship in a storm to save the vessel; to amputate a limb to save the whole body. It is on this principle that our Lord declares that, "_It is better for thee that one of thy members should perish, than that thy whole body should go into hell_." Again our Lord says, on the same point, "_If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sister, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple_." [Footnote 150] [Footnote 150: St. Luke xiv., 26.] The meaning of our Lord is not that there is in these human ties any thing contrary to God's law, for his commandment to us is, "Honor thy father and thy mother;" "Love thy neighbor as thyself." {335} The meaning of the text is; if your father, or your mother, or your wife or children, or your brother or sister, or even your own life, should stand in the way of your duty to God, then they must be subordinated, or even sacrificed, to your obedience and duty to Him. Our duty to God is supreme; and when the question arises of obeying Him or clinging to something else we possess or prize, He is content with nothing less than an unconditional surrender. So, then, self-denial is practised not to deny one's self of any thing that is a real good, but in regulating what is disorderly, in repressing what is excessive, in renouncing what is evil, that we may come in possession of our sovereign good. It aims at restraining the excesses of our animal instincts, and holding them in subjection to reason, and not at their destruction. For, in themselves considered, there is nothing even in our animal instincts which is irreconcilable with the perfection of the soul. The same may be said of all human relationships; if they are not made to stand in the way of our salvation, and the keeping of the Divine Law, they render our natural life the more complete, and the obligation for their renunciation ceases. {336} Did not Christ look upon mankind with human eyes, and make all our human feelings his own? As a son He obeyed his mother until his death; and even while suffering on the cross, such was his filial love and solicitude for her welfare, that He gave her in charge to his beloved disciple. As a friend, He wept at the death of Lazarus. In fine, all human sympathies, sorrows, and woes, found a home in his bosom. No, there is nothing in all created things, nor in human nature, even in its lowest appetites and passions, which may not be brought into harmony with reason, be reconciled with what holds the first place in the rank of our duties, and be made to contribute and adorn the perfection of the soul. For it is not the purpose of Christianity to supersede man's nature; it supposes his nature. Christianity would be of no account independent of human nature. Christianity finds us men, and leaves us men; gentle, not cowardly; child-like, not childish; amiable, not effeminate; zealous, not fanatical; earnest, not narrow-minded; pious, not weak; humble, not abject; full of faith, and yet rational; obedient, not slavish; mortified, not mutilated; for Christ died to save man, and not to transmute man into something else. Christianity demands for its fullest manifestation the most complete nature. The more we are men, the greater our capacity for Christianity. {337} This being so, how strange it is to find men who modestly assume the character of Christian philosophers; and yet when the word self-denial, mortification, or asceticism is pronounced in their presence, they startle like one who is about to be exorcised! An ascetic, in their courteous language, is "a miserable victim of a falsely interpreted religion, starved and withered in delusion." Miserable victim indeed, if the highest purposes of life are, to gratify our animal instincts and give one's self up to ease and self-indulgence! Deluded certainly, if it were our belief, as it was that the heathen, that the grossest indulgence of sensual passions is a part of religious worship! On such a theory, an ascetic is unquestionably a miserable victim! But do these men really fancy that all that lies beyond their mental conceptions is delusion, like the Chinese, who look upon all that come from beyond the limits of their country as barbarians? {338} Can they never learn the simple truth, that the practice of self-denial and kindred virtues, will always correspond in degree to one's conception of the dignity of the human soul, and the greatness of its destiny. Or are they cognizant of this truth, but pusillanimous like the Jews, who conjured up to their imaginations, "monsters of the sons of Enac, of the giant kind," being too cowardly to face the dangers and conquer the enemies which stood between them and the possession of "the land flowing with milk and honey"? Strange indeed it is, that these self-called liberal Christians are not liberal enough to allow men, who have higher aims than the indulgence of sensual propensity and appetite, to live the life they like! If a man abstains from eating meat, why not let him, if he likes, eat fish? If another is bent on practising entire abstinence, why not allow him to fast? If another fancies he will improve by scourging himself, why not let him whip his body? If another takes the notion to shave his crown and walk with uncovered feet, wherein is he to be blamed? If another seeks the desert, or ensconces himself in a cave, what commandment does he break? What is there criminal in these actions, that there should be displayed so much spleen against those who live in this way? {339} Christ was born in a stable, he fasted forty days and forty nights in the desert, and often had not a stone to rest his weary head upon. Daniel fed upon pulse, and gained both wisdom and health. The Baptist fed upon honey and locusts, and "_there has not risen among those that are born of women a greater than John the Baptist_." These men were in pursuit of a great object. You perhaps don't perceive it! It is because the object which they aimed at does not lie within your range of vision, but above it. They were hungering and thirsting after the beauty of holiness. This was the great aim of their lives, and they followed it up like men in earnest. "Life was to them a battle-field, Their hearts a holy land." Be true to thyself, O friend; and learn to "_let every one abound in his own sense_," and in thy liberality, "_let all the spirits praise the Lord_." {340} Meanwhile the practice of these virtues richly repays the soul. They restore to the soul her true and perfect liberty. Is this not a great boon? Suppose that a queen was torn from her throne by a band of ruffians, and being stripped of her royal robes, was clothed in rags, and thrown into a dark and loathsome prison. Abuse and contempt are heaped upon her, putrid meat and filthy water are given to her for food and drink. Her cries are unheeded, and often she meditates an escape, but the sight of the cold and massive walls around her shake and overpower her resolutions. Enfeebled and exhausted, she finally relapses into indifference and despair. Now a slight but strange noise reaches her ears. It grows louder and louder. She listens attentively, and to her quick ears the sounds seems to come like blows struck upon her prison walls. They come nearer and grow louder; the iron bars of her cell give way under them; friends enter and her chains are broken. She steps forth free, breathes once more the fresh air, sees the fair world around her, and she is replaced with increased splendor and dignity upon her throne. Can you not easily imagine that every stroke she heard given against her prison walls, must have sent a thrill of joy through her whole frame? {341} What language can express the gratitude which filled her heart toward her deliverers? And this is simply the picture of a soul which has been subject to the demands of its lower appetites and passions, and has been freed by the practice of self-denial. For what prison walls are so strong as the tyranny of passion over the soul? What degradation is equal to that of a Christian enslaved by vice? What food is so loathsome to the body as lust and sensuality must be to a soul made for wisdom and virtue? What comparison is there between the relief felt at escaping from a material prison to the liberation of the soul from the fetters of sin, free to breathe the pure air of angels, and feed on celestial joys. Oh! blessed virtue of Penance which emancipates the soul, and restores that image of God which is stamped upon it, to its original beauty and splendor! Besides, penance renders a man invincible against his spiritual foes. The mortified man is like a horse in the open fields. You may approach him with a halter in hand, and almost lay your hands upon him, but he easily escapes your grasp. {342} So the devil may approach a man who has gained mastery over his appetites and inordinate affections, with his temptations, and the opportunity of committing sin ready at hand, but he has no power to capture or bind him. But the self-indulgent man has not the moral life to resist, nor the strength to escape; he is easily led into sin and made the slave of the devil. The mortified man is like a flower which draws nothing but its necessary nourishment from the earth, and that through a slender stem, while it opens wide its bosom to the light and air of heaven; so he, by self-denial, has narrowed all those avenues of his soul which lie earthward, while his whole mind is open to the contemplation of God, and his heart is filled with the taste of His sweetness. Moreover, it renders the practice of prayer easy. All the irregular movements of our lower nature being subdued, the soul thus disengaged is able to think steadfastly on God, and attend to his inspiration, according to those words of the divine Spouse in Scripture: "_I will lead her into the solitude, and will speak to her heart, and she shall sing there as in the days of her youth_." [Footnote 151] [Footnote 151: Osee ii., 14.] [Transcriber's note: Osee refers to Hosea.] {343} According to the experience of all spiritual men, the spirit of prayer can only spring from, mortification. "Give more study to mortification," says Lewis da Ponte, "than to contemplation, for an unmortified person seeks after the spirit of prayer and cannot find it, whilst prayer itself seeks the man who is truly mortified, and knows how to find him." Saint Ignatius once heard one say in the praise of a great servant of God: "He is a great man of prayer." The saint replied, "No, he is a man of great mortification." And on another occasion he remarked, that "a quarter of an hour spent in prayer is sufficient to unite a mortified man closely to God; whereas an unmortified man would not obtain this in two hours." "He who does not live according to the corruption of the senses," says St. John of the Cross, "has the consolation to see all the operations of the powers of his soul tend to the contemplation of God as to their centre." Finally, it fills the soul with spiritual consolations, according to the words of Holy Scripture. "_Who is this that cometh up from the desert flowing with delights, leaning upon her beloved?_" [Footnote 152] [Footnote 152: Cant. viii., 5.] {344} While the heart is disturbed with irregular affections and filled with inordinate love for created things, divine love cannot enter it. The desert of which Solomon speaks in the passage just quoted, is produced in the soul by the renunciation and mortification of the irregular movements of the sensual appetites, and the soul then goes forth to meet the celestial spouse; and as all obstacles to his love are removed, she is filled with his divine consolation. And thus supported by her Beloved, the practice of every virtue becomes easy. "Whilst my heart was dilated with thy consolations, I ran in the way of thy commandments." [Footnote 153] Oh, blessed penance, which recovers for the soul its supreme good, and gives it here a foretaste of Paradise! [Footnote 153: Psalm cxviii.] [Transcriber's note: This appears to be a paraphrase of Psalm cxix., 1.] Let us, then, enter upon the duties of Lent with the conviction of their necessity and their high importance. Let us manfully conquer all our repugnances to the works of penance enjoined by Holy Church; for every act of self-denial and mortification of sensuality will open avenues of true spiritual joy to the soul. {345} Let us pass through this holy season with sincerity and confidence, practising all its requirements, that it may be said of us also, "_Who is this that cometh up from the desert, flowing with delights, leaning on her beloved?_" For only those who take part in the penances of Lent can share in the joys of Easter. 
6669	----	GODLINESS. BEING REPORTS OF A SERIES OF ADDRESSES DELIVERED AT JAMES'S HALL, LONDON, W., During 1881, BY MRS. CATHERINE BOOTH. _INTRODUCTION BY DANIEL STEELE, D.D._ PUBLISHERS' PREFACE. In giving this volume to our American readers, we are assured that we are doing a special favor to all the lovers of "Christianity in earnest." "Aggressive Christianity," from the same talented author, has met with unusual favor, and has been the means of much good. We are confident that the present volume is in all respects equal to the former, and that no one can read it without great spiritual profit. The Introduction, by Dr. Daniel Steele, is a forcible presentation of the main doctrines of the book, and is creditable to the head and heart of the writer, and a commendation which all intelligent readers will highly esteem. Our object in publishing these sermons, is, that their perusal may kindle a flame of revival in the hearts of believers, which may result in many turning unto the Lord. MCDONALD & GILL BOSTON, MASS. AUTHOR'S PREFACE. In presenting another volume of reports of my Addresses, I have only to repeat what I have said with respect to similar books before-- Read, for the sake of getting more light and more blessing to your soul, and you will, I trust, partake of the good which many have professed to receive at the West-End services, wherein most of these words were first spoken. I am well aware that, in such imperfect reports of, for the most part, extemporaneous utterances, often most hurriedly corrected, there may be found abundant ground for criticism; but, if this book may be the means of leading only a few souls to devote themselves more fully to God and to the salvation of men, I shall be more than compensated for any unfriendly criticism with which it may meet. I have not sought to please any but the Lord, and to His fatherly loving-kindness I commend both the book and its readers. CATHERINE BOOTH. _London, Nov._ 10, 1881. INTRODUCTION. The sermons of Mrs. Booth already re-published under the title of "_Aggressive Christianity_," came to American Christians as a tonic to their weakness, and a stimulant to their inertness. The sermons in the present volume are a much-needed prophylactic, a safeguard against several practical errors in dealing with souls; errors which lead them into Egyptian darkness, instead of the marvelous light. The sermon on _Repentance_ is a most faithful showing up of spurious repentance, the vain substitute for a downright abandonment of every form of sin, and right-about facing towards the Lord. In directness and point, it is a model for earnest revival preaching,--rather, for all preaching to unsaved souls, outside the church, or within it. All of these will be found in some subterfuge, which must be ruthlessly torn down, before it will be abandoned for the cleft Rock. The sermon on _Saving Faith_ is next in order. The disastrous consequences of what, for the want of a better description, maybe styled an Antinomian faith, an unrepentant assent of the intellect to the historic facts of the Gospel, which too many evangelists and other religious teachers are calling saving faith, are clearly set forth and plainly labeled, POISON. This spurious trust in Christ following a superficial repentance, which has never felt the desperate sinfulness and real misery of sin, has furnished our churches with a numerous class of members, aptly described by the prophet Micah: "The sin of Israel is great and unrepented of, yet they will lean on the Lord, and say, Is not the Lord among us?" We are convinced that much of the work of the faithful and pungent preacher, who preaches with his eye fixed on the great white throne and the descending Judge, is to dislodge professors from their imaginary trust in a Saviour who does not save them, and probe deeply their hearts festering with sin, which have been hastily pronounced healed, "slightly healed." Many of us have incautiously said to awakened souls, "Only believe," before we have thrust the heart through and through with the sword of God's law. We have dismissed God's schoolmaster. The law, like the slave charged with the task of leading the boy to school, and of committing him to the teacher, we have thought to be too harsh and severe for our sentimental age, and have unwisely discharged, and have assumed its office of a _paidagogos_ to Christ, and we have missed the way, and misled a priceless soul. God have mercy on us, and give us humility, as He gave Apollos, to be set right by an anointed woman! After her timely correction of erroneous teachings on faith, Mrs. Booth proceeds, pruning-knife in hand, to cut away from the tree of modern Christianity the poisonous fungus of a "spurious charity." Her four sermons on _Charity_ are four beacons set on the rocks of counterfeit Christian love. She sets forth several infallible tests by which genuine love may be distinguished from the devil's base imitation. Like the Epistles of St. John, these sermons are full of touchstones for testing love, that golden principle of the Christian life. It would be very profitable for all professors of that perfect love which casteth out all tormenting fear, to apply unflinchingly these touch-stones to themselves. They may find the word "perfection" taking on a meaning deeper, broader and higher than they had ever before conceived. Why should not our conception of Christian perfection steadily grow with the increase of our knowledge of God and of His holy law? The sermon on _The Conditions of Effectual Prayer_, we commend to all Christians and to all seekers of Christ, who are mourning because their prayers do not prevail with God. In the clear light of this sermon they will find that the difficulty lies, either in the lack of fellowship with Jesus Christ, or of obedience to His commands, or in the absence from their hearts of the interceding Spirit, or in defective faith. In the discussion of these hindrances to prayer, the preacher lays open the heart, and with a skilful spiritual surgery, searches it to the very bottom. The incisiveness of her style, her courage and plain dealing with her hearers, tearing off the masks of sin and selfishness, the various guises in which these masquerade in many Christian hearts and obstruct their access to a throne of grace, remind us of Dr. Finney's unsparing exposure and condemnation of these foes to Christian holiness, and of John Wesley's cutting up by the roots "Sin in Believers." In this sermon Mrs. Booth turns her attention to another phase of faith and of practical error in the guidance of souls to Christ. Her views on this vexed question are not extreme but philosophical and scriptural. She teaches that God has made the bestowment of salvation simultaneous with the exercise of faith, and that "telling a person to believe he is saved, before he is saved, is telling him to believe a lie." But she insists that the act of faith is put forth with the special aid of the Holy Spirit giving an assurance that the blessing sought will be granted. This assurance, or earnest, given by the Spirit, becomes the basis on which the final act of faith rests, namely, "I believe that I receive." This corresponds with William Taylor's Divine "ascertainment of the fact of the sinner's surrender to God, and his acceptance of Christ," before justification. [Footnote: Election of Grace, pp. 38-42.] Both teachers agree with Wesley's analysis of faith which teaches that the fourth and last step, "He doth it," can be taken only by the special enabling power of the Holy Spirit, [Footnote: Sermons. Patience, Section 13; Scripture Way of Salvation, Section 17; and Whedon on Mark xi. 24.] All three locate the Divine efficiency before the declaration, "I believe that I receive," or "have received" (R. V.), making that declaration rest upon the perception of a Divine change within the consciousness. They all insist that saving faith is not a mere humanly moral exercise, but that power to believe with the heart descends from God, and that it must be waited for in prayer, and that it becomes in the believer a series of supernatural and spiritual acts, a habit of soul, at once the seed and fruit of the Divine life-stirring, uniting in itself the characters of penitent humility, self-renunciation, simple trust, and absolute obedience grounded in love. These teachers magnify the Divine element in faith. We look in vain in their writings for any such direction to a penitent as this, "Believe that you are saved, because, God says so in His Word," but rather believe that you are saved when you hear His Spirit crying, Abba, Father, in your heart. Many modern teachers fall into the error of treating saving faith as an unaided intellectual act to be performed, at will, at any time. It is rather a spiritual act possible only when prompted by the Holy Spirit, who incites to faith only when He sees true repentance and a hearty surrender to God. Then the Spirit reveals Christ and assists to grasp Him. In the refutation of the high predestinarian doctrine that faith is an irresistible grace sovereignly bestowed upon the elect, there is great danger of falling into the opposite error, called Pelagianism, which makes saving faith an exercise which the natural man is competent to put forth without the help of the Holy Spirit. The real guilt of unbelief lies in that voluntary indifference toward Christ, and impenitence of heart, in which the Holy Spirit cannot inspire saving faith. In our introduction to "_Aggressive Christianity_," we advertised, in behalf of the American churches, a universal want--Enthusiasm. In her brief Exeter-Hall address, Mrs. Booth discloses the source of the supply. Holiness is the well-spring of enthusiasm. Hence it is not a spring freshet, but an overflowing river of power in all its possessors, and, notably in the Salvation Army, bearing the unchurched masses of England on its bosom. A holy enthusiasm is contagious and conquering. We cannot touch the people with the icicle of logic; but they will not fail to bow to the scepter of glowing and joyful love. Few men can reason; all can feel. Enthusiasm and full salvation, like the Siamese twins, cannot be separated and live. The error of the modern pulpit is that of the blacksmith hammering cold steel--a faint impression and huge labor. The baptism of fire softening our assemblies would lighten the preacher's toil and multiply its productiveness. The four addresses on _Holiness_ are hortatory rather than argumentative or exegetical. They are spiritual cyclones. It is difficult to see how any Christian could withstand these impassioned appeals to make what Joseph Cook calls "an affectionate, total, irreversible, eternal, self-surrender to Jesus Christ, as both Saviour and Lord," in order to attain that "perfect similarity of feeling with God," wherein evangelical perfection consists. It gives me great pleasure to have some humble part in echoing across the American continent these glowing utterances from the lips of this modern Deborah, the Christian prophetess raised up by God for the deliverance of His people from captivity to worldliness and religious apathy. "Would God that all the Lord's people," men and women, "were prophets, and that the Lord would put His Spirit upon them!" "Shall we the Spirit's course restrain, Or quench the heavenly fire? Let God His messengers ordain, And whom He will inspire! Blow as He list, the Spirit's choice Of instruments we bless: We will, if Christ be preached, rejoice, And wish the word success." DANIEL STEELE. _Reading, Mass., Nov._ 23, 1883. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. REPENTANCE CHAPTER II. SAVING FAITH CHAPTER III. CHARITY CHAPTER IV. CHARITY AND REBUKE CHAPTER V. CHARITY AND CONFLICT CHAPTER VI. CHARITY AND LONELINESS CHAPTER VII. CONDITIONS OF EFFECTUAL PRAYER CHAPTER VIII. THE PERFECT HEART CHAPTER IX. HOW TO WORK FOR GOD WITH SUCCESS CHAPTER X. ENTHUSIASM AND FULL SALVATION CHAPTER XI. HINDRANCES TO HOLINESS CHAPTER XII. ADDRESSES ON HOLINESS CHAPTER I. REPENTANCE, And saying, Repent ye: for the kingdom of Heaven is at band.--MATT. iii. 2. From that time Jesus began to preach, and to say, Repent: for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.--MATT. iv. 17. "Whereupon, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision: but shewed first unto them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of Judaea, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent and torn to God, and do works meet for repentance."--ACTS xxvi. 19,20. In the mouths of three witnesses--John the Baptist, Jesus Christ, and the Apostle Paul--this word shall be established, namely, that repentance is an _indispensable_ condition of entering the kingdom of God. People generally are all at sea oh this subject, as though insisting that repentance were an arbitrary arrangement on the part of God. I believe God has made human salvation as easy as the Almighty, Infinite mind could make it. But there is a necessity in the case, that we should "repent and turn to God." It is just as necessary that my feelings be changed and brought to repentance towards God, as it is that the wicked, disobedient boy, should have his feelings brought back into harmony with his father before he can be forgiven. Precisely the same laws of mind are brought into action in both cases, and there is the same necessity in both. If there is any father here who has a prodigal son, I ask, How is it that you are not reconciled to your son? You love him--love him intensely. Probably you are more conscious of your love for him than for any other of your children. Your heart yearns over him every day; you pray for him night and day; you dream of him by night; your bowels yearn over your son, and you say, with David, "Absalom, Absalom, my son, my son." Why are you not reconciled? Why not pat him on the head, or stroke his face, and say, "My dear lad, I am well pleased with you. I love you complacently; I give you my approbation?" Why are you always reproving him? Why are you obliged to hold him at arm's length? Why can you not live on amicable terms with him? Why can you not have him come in and out, and live with you on the same terms as the affectionate, obedient daughter? "Oh!" you say, "the case is different; I cannot. It is not, 'I would not;' but, '_I cannot_.' Before that can possibly be, the boy's feelings must be changed towards me. He is at war with me; he has mistaken notions of me; he thinks I am hard, and cruel, and exacting, and severe. I have done all a father could do, but he sees things differently, to what they are, and has harbored these hard feelings against me until he hates me, and will go on in defiance of my will." You say, "It is a necessity that, as a wise and righteous father, I must insist on a change in him. I cannot receive him as a son, till he comes to my feet. He must confess his sin, and ask me to forgive him. Then, oh! how gladly will my fatherly affection gush out! How I should run to meet him, and put my arms around his neck! but there is a 'cannot' in the case." Just so. It is not that He does not love you, sinner; it is not that the great, benevolent heart of God has not, as it were, wept tears of blood over you; it is not that He would not put His loving arms around you this moment, if you would only come to His feet, and confess you were wrong, and seek His pardon; but, otherwise, He may not--He _cannot_. The laws of His universe are against Him doing so. The good, it may be, of millions of immortal beings, is involved. He dare not, and He _cannot,_ until there is a change of mind _in you._ You must repent. "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." Well, if repentance be an indispensable condition of salvation, let us glance at it for a moment, and try to find out what repentance really is; and, oh! how full of confusion the world and the church are upon this subject! I say it, because I know it by converse with hundreds of people. May the Holy Spirit help us! Well, first, repentance is not merely conviction of sin. Oh! if it only were, what a different world we should have to-night, for there are tens of thousands on whose hearts God's Spirit has done His office by convincing them of sin. I am afraid we should be perfectly alarmed, astounded, confounded, if we had any conception of the multitudes whom God has convinced of sin, as He did Agrippa and Festus. Oh! I could not tell you the numbers of people, who, in our anxious meetings, have grasped my hand, and said, "Oh! what would I give to feel as I once felt! There was a time, fifteen, or seventeen, or twenty years ago," and so on, "when I was so deeply convinced of sin that I could scarcely sleep, or eat--that I could find no rest; but, instead of going on till I found peace, I got diverted, cooled down, and now, I feel as hard as a stone." I am afraid there are tens of thousands in this condition--once convinced of sin. There are thousands of others, who are convinced _now_. They say, "Yes, it is true what the minister says. I know I ought to lay down the weapons of my warfare against God; I know I ought to cut off this right hand, and pluck out this right eye." They are convinced of sin, but they go no further. That is not repentance. They live this week as they did last. There is no response to the Spirit; they resist the Holy Ghost. Neither is repentance mere sorrow for sin. I have seen people weep bitterly, and writhe and struggle, but yet hug on to their idols, and in vain you try to shake them from them. Oh! if Jesus Christ would have saved them with those idols, they would have no objection at all. If they could have got through the strait gate with this one particular idol, they would have gone through long since; but to part with that--that is another thing. Such people will weep like your stubborn child, when you want him to do something which he does not want to do. He will cry, and when you apply the rod he will cry harder, but he will not yield. When he yields, he becomes a penitent; but, until he does, he is merely a convicted sinner. When God applies the rod of His Spirit, the rod of His providence, the rod of His Word, sinners will cry, and wince, and whine, and make you believe they are praying, and want to be saved, but all the while they are holding their necks as stiff as iron. They will not _submit_. The moment they submit, they become true penitents, and get saved. There is no mistake more common than for people to suppose they are penitents when they are not. There are some of you in this condition, I know. I am afraid you are quite mistaken--you are not penitents. God is true though every man should be a liar; and, if you had sought, as you say you have, and perhaps, think you have; if you had been sincere and honest with God, you would have been saved years ago. Oh! may God, the Holy Spirit, help you to come out and be HONEST. That is what God wants--that you be honest. "Oh," says He, "why cover ye my altar with tears, and bring your vain oblations? Just be honest, and I will be honest with you and bless you; but while you come before Me and weep and profess, and bring the halt, and the maimed, and the blind, a curse be upon you." He looks at you afar off. Be honest. Repentance is not mere sorrow for sin. You may be ever so sorry, and all the way down to death be hugging on to some forbidden possession, as was the young ruler. _That_ is not repentance. Neither is repentance a promise that you will forsake sin in the future. Oh! if it were, there would be many penitents here to-night. There is scarcely a poor drunkard that does not promise, in his own mind, or to his poor wife, or somebody, that he will forsake his cups. There is scarcely any kind of a sinner that does not continually promise that he will give up his sin, and serve God, but he does _not do it_. Then what is _repentance_? _Repentance is simply renouncing sin_--turning round from darkness to light--from the power of Satan unto God. This is giving up sin in your heart, in purpose, in intention, in desire, resolving that you will give up every evil thing, and DO IT NOW. Of course, this involves sorrow, for how will any sane man turn himself round from a given course into another, if he does not repent having taken that course? It implies, also, hatred of, sin. He hates the course he formerly took, and turns round from it. He is like the prodigal, when he sat in the swine-yard amongst the husks and the filth, he fully resolved, and at last he acts. He went, and that was the test of his penitence! He might have sat resolving and promising till now, if he had lived as long, and he would never have got the father's kiss, the father's welcome, if he had not started; but he went. He left the filth, the swine-yard, the husks--he trampled them under his feet; he left the citizen of that country, and gave up all his subterfuges and excuses, and went to his father honestly, and said, "I have sinned!" which implied a great deal more in his language then than it does in ours now. "I have sinned against Heaven, and before thee;" and then comes the proof of his submission, "and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants"--put me in a stable, or set me to clean the boots, so that I can be in thy family and have thy smile. That is repentance--Jesus Christ's own beautiful illustration of true penitence. Have you done that? Have you forsaken the accursed thing? Have you cut off that particular thing which the Holy Spirit has revealed to you? Is the _"but"_ the hindrance that keeps you out of the Kingdom? You know what it is, and you will never get saved until you renounce it. Submission is the test of penitence. My child may be willing to do a hundred and fifty other things, but, if he is not willing to submit on the one point of controversy, he is a rebel, and remains one until he yields. Now, here is just the difference between a spurious and a real repentance. I am afraid we have thousands in our churches who had a spurious repentance: they were convinced of sin--they were sorry for it; they wanted to live a better life, to love God in a sort of general way; but they skipped over the real point of controversy with God; they hid it from their pastor, perhaps, and from the deacons, and from the people who talked with them. Now, I say, Abraham might have been willing to have given up every other thing that he possessed; but, if he had not been willing to give up Isaac, all else would have been useless. It is your Isaac God wants. You have got an Isaac, just as the young ruler had his possessions. You have got something that you are holding on to, that the Holy Spirit says you must let go, and you say, "I can't." Very well; then you must stop outside the kingdom. I beseech you, do not deceive yourselves by supposing that you repent, for you do not; but, oh! my dear friends, let me beseech you to repent. The apostle says, "Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we persuade men;" and this is, I believe, the greatest work of the ministry. To do what? To persuade men to submit. We are constantly talking to thousands of people who know just what God wants of them. We cannot bring many of them any new light or new Gospel. They know all about it. They used to tell me that so often, that I longed for a congregation of heathen, which I have found since then. Consequently, when they hear the Gospel, like the publicans and sinners of old, they go into the kingdom, while such as some of you who are the natural children of the kingdom, are shut out, because when they hear they receive, and submit, and obey, while you stand outside and hold on to your idols, and reason, and quibble, and reject! My dear friends, let me persuade you to trample under foot that idol, to tear down that refuge of lies, and to come to God honestly, and say, "Lord, here I am, to be a servant, to be nothing, to do anything, to suffer anything. I know I shall be happier with Thy smile and Thy blessing than all these evil things now make me without Thee." When you come to a full surrender, my friends, you will get what you have been seeking, some of you, for years. But then another difficulty comes in, and people say, "I have not the power to repent." Oh! yes, you have. That is a grand mistake. You have the power, or God would not command it. You can repent. You can this moment lift up your eyes to Heaven, and say, with the prodigal, "Father, I have sinned, and I renounce my sin." You may not be able to weep--God nowhere requires or commands that; but you are able, this very moment, to renounce sin, in purpose, in resolution, in intention. Mind, don't confound the renouncing of the sin, with the power of saving yourself from it. If you renounce it, Jesus will come and save you from it. Like the man with the withered hand--Jesus intended to heal that man. Where was the power to come from to heal him? From Jesus, of course. The benevolence, the love, that prompted that healing, all came from Jesus; but Jesus wanted a condition. What was it? The response of the man's will; and so He said, "Stretch forth thy hand." If he had been like some of you, he would have said, "What an unreasonable command! You know I cannot do it--I cannot." Some of you say that; but I say you can, and you will have to do it, or you will be lost. What did Jesus want? He wanted that, "I will, Lord," inside the man--the response of his will. He wanted him to say, "Yes, Lord;" and, the moment he said that, Jesus supplied strength, and he stretched it forth, and you know what happened. Don't look forward, and say, "I shall not have strength;" that is not your matter--that is His. He will hold you up;--He is able, when you once commit yourself to Him. Now then, say, "_I will._" Never mind what you suffer--it shall be done. He will pour in the oil and balm. His glorious, blessed presence will do more for you in one hour, than all your struggling, praying, and wrestling have done all these weary years. He will lift you up out of the pit. You are in the mire now, and the more you struggle the more you sink; but He will lift you out of it, and put your feet on the rock, and then you will stand firm. Stretch out your withered hand, whatever it may be;--say, "I will, Lord." You have the power, and mind, you have the obligation, which is universal and immediate. God "now commandeth all men everywhere to repent," and to believe the Gospel. What a tyrant He must be if He commands that, and yet He knows you have not the power! Now, do you repent? Mind the old snare. Not, do you weep? The feeling will come after the surrender. Now, do not say, "I do not feel enough." Do you feel enough to be willing to forsake your sin? that is the point. Any soul who does not repent enough to forsake his sin, is _not a penitent at all!_ When you repent enough to forsake your sin, that moment your repentance is sincere, and you may take hold of Jesus with a firm grasp. You have a right to appropriate the promise, then it is "look and live." "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Will you come to that point now? Don't begin making an excuse. _Now!--all men! everywhere!_--NOW! Oh! my friend, if you had done that ten years ago! You have been accumulating sin, condemnation, and wrath ever since. God commanded you these ten years to repent, and believe the Gospel, and here you are yet. How many sermons have you heard?--invitations rejected? How much blessed persuasion and reasoning of the Holy Spirit have you resisted?--how much of the grace of God have you received in vain? I tremble to think what an accumulated load of abused privilege, lost opportunity, and wasted influence, such people will have to give an account of. Talk about hell!--the weight of this will be hell enough. You don't seem to think anything of the way you treat God. Oh! people are very much awake to any evil they do to their fellow-men. They can much more easily see the sin of ruining or injuring their neighbors than injuring the great God; but He says, "Will a man rob God? Yet ye have robbed me." Do you not see; the awful weight of condemnation that comes upon you for putting off, rejecting, resisting, vascilating, halting, while He says, _Now--now?_ He has had a right to every breath you have drawn, to all your influence, every hour, of every day of all your years. Is it not time you ended that controversy? He may do with you as He did with such people once before--swear in His wrath that you shall not enter into His rest. Are you not provoking Him as they provoked Him? Oh! my friend, be persuaded now to repent. Let your sin go away, and come to the feet of Jesus. For your own sake be persuaded. For the peace, the joy, the power, the glory, the gladness of living a life of consecration to God, and service to your fellow-men, yield; but most of all, for the love He bears you, submit. A great, rough man (stricken down), said to my husband, a few weeks ago, when he looked up to the place where other people were being saved, "Mr. Booth, I would not go there for a hundred pounds!" My husband whispered, "Will you go there for love?" and, after a minute's hesitation, the man, brushing the great tears away, rose up, and followed him. Will you go there for love--the love of Jesus!--the great love wherewith He loved you and gave Himself for you? Will you, for the great yearning with which your Father has been following you all these years--for His love's sake, will you come? Go down at His feet and submit. The Lord help you! Amen. CHAPTER II. SAVING FAITH. And brought them out, and said, Sirs, what must I do to be saved? And they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house.--ACTS xvi. 30,31. This is one of the most abused texts in the Bible, and one which, perhaps, has been made to do quite as much work for the devil as for God. Let every saint present, ask in faith for the light of the Holy Ghost, while we try rightly to apply it. Let us enquire:-- 1. _Who are to believe_? 2. _When are they to believe_? 3. _How are they to believe_? I. Who are to believe? To whom does the Holy Spirit say, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved?" Now mark, I answer, _not_ to all sinners indiscriminately. And here is a grand mistake in a great deal of the teaching of this age--that these words are wrested from their explanatory connexion, and from numbers of other texts bearing on the same subject, and held up independently of all the conditions which must ever, and did ever, in the mind and practice of the Apostles, accompany them; indeed, it has only been within the last sixty or seventy years that this new gospel has sprung into existence, preaching indiscriminately to unawakened, unconverted, unrepentant sinners--"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ." It seems to me, that great injury has been done to the cause of Christ by thus wrongly dividing the Word of truth, to say nothing of the unphilosophical character of such a course, for how can an unawakened, unconvicted, unrepentant sinner, believe? As soon might Satan believe. It is an utter impossibility. Thousands of these people say, "I do believe." My dear son, only a little time ago, on the top of an omnibus, was speaking to a man who was the worse for liquor, and using very improper language; trying to show him the danger of his evil, wicked course, as a transgressor of the law of God. "Oh!" said the man, "it is not by works, it is by faith, and I believe as much as you do." "Yes," said my son, "but what do you believe?" "Oh," he said, "I believe in Jesus Christ, and of course I shall be saved." That is a sample of thousands. I am meeting with them daily. They believe there was such a man as Jesus, and that He died for sinners, and for them, but as to the exercise of saving faith, they know no more about it than Agrippa or Felix, as is manifest when they come to die, for then, these very people are wringing their hands, tearing their hair, and sending for Christians to come and pray with them. If they had believed, why all this alarm and concern on the approach of death? They were only believers of the head, and not of the heart; that is, they were but theoretical believers in the facts recorded in this book, but not believers in the Scriptural sense, or their faith would have saved them. Now, we maintain that it is useless, and as unphilosophical as it is unscriptural, to preach "only believe" to such characters; and Christians have not done their duty, and have not discharged their responsibility to these souls, when they have told them that Jesus died for them, and that they are to believe in Him! They have a much harder work to do, and that is, "to open their eyes" to a sense of their danger, and make them, by the power of the Spirit, realize the dreadful truth that they are sinners, that they are sick, and then they will run to the Physician. The eyes of the soul must be opened to such a realization of sin, and such an apprehension of the consequences of sin, as shall lead to an earnest desire to be saved from sin. God's great means of doing this is the law, as the schoolmaster, to drive sinners to receive Christ as their salvation. There is not one case in the New Testament in which the apostles urged souls to believe, or in which a soul is narrated as believing, in which we have not good grounds to believe that these preparatory steps of conviction and repentance, had been taken. The only one was that of Simon the sorcerer. He was, as numbers of people are, in great religious movements, carried away by the influence of the meeting, and the example of those around him, and professed to believe. Doubtless, he did credit the fact that Jesus died on the cross. He received the facts of Christianity into his mind, and, in that sense, he became a believer--in the same sense that tens of thousands are in these days--and he was baptized. But when the testing point came, as to whose interests were paramount with him, his own or God's, then he manifested the true state of the case, as the apostle said, "I see thy heart is not right with God." And nobody is converted whose heart is not right with God! That is the test. If Simon had been converted, his heart would have been right with God and he would not have supposed the Holy Ghost could have been bought for money. And Paul added, "For I perceive that thou art still in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond of iniquity." And what further did he say to him? "Therefore, at once believe"? No; he did not. "Therefore, repent, and pray God, if, perhaps, the thought of thine heart may be forgiven thee." Repent first! and then believe, and get this wickedness forgiven, and so we get a double lesson in the same passage. This Simon was the only person we have any record of, as believing, where there is not in the passage itself, taken with the context, a reasonable and rational evidence, that these preparatory steps of conviction and repentance, were taken before the teaching of faith, or the exercise and confession of faith. Simon had this faith of the head, but not of the heart, and, therefore, it ended in defeat and despair. Some have written me this week that they had believed. They had been persuaded into a profession of faith, but no fruits followed. Ah! it was not the faith of the heart: it was the faith of the head--like that of Simon's--and it left you worse than it found you, and you have been groping and grovelling, ever since. But do not think that was real faith, and that therefore real faith has failed, but be encouraged to begin again, and _repent_. Try the real thing, for Satan always gets up a counterfeit. Therefore, don't go down in despair because the wrong kind of faith did not succeed. That shall not make the real faith of God of none effect--God forbid! Look at one or two other cases--the three thousand in a day. Surely this is a scriptural illustration. Surely no one will call that anti-Gospel or legal. What was the first work Peter did? He drove the knife of God's convincing truth into their hearts, and made them _cry out_. He awoke them to the truth of their almost lost and damned condition, till they said, "What must we do to be saved?" They were so concerned, they were so pricked in their hearts, their eyes were so opened to the terrible consequences of their sin, that they cried aloud before the vast multitude, "Men and brethren, what must we do to be saved?" He convinced them of sin, and thus followed the order of God. Again, the eunuch is often quoted as an illustration of faith; but what state of mind was he in? Was he a careless, unconvicted sinner? There he was--an Ethiopian, a heathen; but where had he been? To Jerusalem, to worship the true and living God, in the best way he knew, and as far as he understood; and then, what was he doing when Philip found him? He was not content with the mere worship of the temple, whistling a worldly tune on his way back. He was searching the Scriptures. He was honestly seeking after God, and the Holy Ghost always knows where such souls are; and He said to Philip, "Go, join thyself to that chariot: there is a man seeking after Me; there is a man whose heart is honestly set on finding Me. Go and preach Christ, and tell him to believe." That man would have sacrificed, or done, or lost anything, for salvation, and, as soon as Philip expounded the way of faith, he received it, of course, as all such souls will. Saul, on his way to Damascus, is another instance. Jesus Christ was the preacher there, and surely, He could not be mistaken. His philosophy was sound. Where did He begin? What did He say to Saul? He saw there an honest-hearted man. Saul was sincere, so far as he understood, and if, in any case, there needed to be the immediate reception of Christ by faith, it was in his. But the Lord Jesus Christ did not say one word about faith. "Saul, Saul, why _persecutest_ thou Me?"--tearing the bandages of deception off his eyes, and letting him see the wickedness of his conduct. When Saul said, "Who art Thou, Lord?" He repeated the accusation. He did not come in with the oil of comfort; He did not plaster the wound up, and make it whole in a moment; but He said, "I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom thou persecutest." He ran the knife in again, and opened Paul's eyes wider, and his wounds wider, too, and sent him bleeding on to Damascus, where he was three days before he got the healing. He had to send for a poor human instrument, and he had to hear and obey his words, before the scales fell from his eyes, and before the pardon of his sins was pronounced, and the Holy Ghost came into his soul. I wonder what Paul was doing those three days! Not singing songs of thanksgiving and praise. That had to come. Oh! what do you think he was doing? He neither ate nor drank, and he was in the dark. What was he doing? No doubt he was praying. No doubt he was seeking after this Christ, who had spoken to him in the way. No doubt he was looking with horror upon his past life, and abjuring forever his accursed antagonism to Jesus Christ, and to His Gospel. Of course, he was bringing forth fruits meet for repentance, according to the Divine order--Acts xxvi.: And then came Ananias, and preached Christ unto him, and he believed unto salvation, and the scales fell off, and his mouth was filled with praise and thanksgiving to God. Cornelius, is another instance, but what was the state of his mind and heart? We know that he feared God and wrought righteousness, as far as he was able. He gave alms to the people, and prayed day and night. That is more than some of you ever did, who live in the Gospel times. You never prayed all night about your souls. No wonder if you should lose them--not half a night, some of you. But Cornelius did--he was seeking _God_. He honestly wanted to know Him. He was willing, at all costs, to do His will: consequently, the Lord sent him the glorious message of the revelation of Jesus Christ. I might go on multiplying instances, but I must stop. We have said enough to show who are to believe. Truly penitent sinners, and they only. This text is to a repenting, enlightened, convicted sinner. Now, some of you are enlightened, convinced, and so wretched that you cannot sleep. You _do_ repent. You are the very people, then, to whom this text comes--Believe. You are just in the condition of the gaoler. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved," and now let us look what state of mind the gaoler was in. We see, from the whole narrative, how his eyes had been opened. The earthquake had done that. Some people need an earthquake before they get their eyes opened, and it has to be a loud one, too. The gaoler's eyes were opened, and he made the best use of his time. He was lashing their backs a little while before! Talk about a change--here was a change. "Sirs, what must I do to be saved? I am ready to do anything, only tell me what." And when a soul comes to that state of mind, he has nothing more to do but to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. And he came in, trembling, and went down on his knees, and washed their stripes. When you get to that state of mind, you will soon get saved. You will have nothing more to do but to believe. You will find it easy work, then. II. When is a sinner to believe? When he repents? Here again I am going to answer some of your letters. One writes: "I am afraid I do not realize my sin sufficiently. I have no particular agony on account of sin, but I do see my whole life to have been one huge error and sin." There is nothing more common than for souls to delude themselves on this point of feeling. That gentleman confounds feeling with conviction. He thinks because he has not this extreme agony which some have, therefore he is not sufficiently convinced, while the Holy Ghost has opened his eyes to see that his whole life has been one huge error and sin. He is convinced that it has been _all_ sin--not one isolated sin here and there abstracted from his life, but such a perception of his true character that he sees his whole life to have been sin. Surely, my friend, you are convinced. What else but the Holy Ghost could have shown you _that_? Now, the truly repentant soul first sees sin; secondly, he _hates_ sin; thirdly, he _renounces_ sin. Now, let me try you by each of these tests. Don't let Satan deceive you, and make you belie the exercises of your own mind. Face the facts, and when you have come to a conclusion, don't allow him to raise a controversy, but stick to your facts, and go on from them, or you will never get saved. Satan is an accuser of the brethren, and, I suppose, of the sisters too. I will be as honest and as searching with you as I possibly can. I will not spare the probe, but when we have probed and found the truth, stand on it, for Christ's sake, and don't let it go from under your feet, because Satan will try to cheat you out of your common sense, conscience, and convictions. You _see_ sin. An entirely unawakened soul does not see sin; that is, in its true character, in its heinousness, in its consequences. He admits that all people are sinners. Oh! yes; but he does not see the deadly, damning character of sin. He does not see what an evil and bitter thing sin is in itself. Now, the Holy Ghost alone can open the soul's eyes to see this. Without Him, all my preaching, or any other preaching, even the preaching of the angels, if they were permitted to preach, might go on to all eternity, and it would never convince of sin. If you see sin, it is the Holy Ghost who has opened your eyes. Praise Him, and take encouragement, my friend. If God has thus far dealt with you, and opened your eyes to see the character and consequences of sin, does it not augur well that He desires also to save you from it? He has opened your eyes in order that He may anoint them with eye-salve, and cause you to see light in His light. Now, have you got thus far? You have told me that your life has been one great sin; others say, one particular form of sin. Whatever it is, if you are convinced of sin, it is the Holy Ghost who has convinced you; therefore, thank God, and take courage thus far. Further, the true penitent _hates_ sin; that is, his feelings towards sin are quite different to what they were in the past. There was a time when you could commit sin, almost without notice, without concern. People do not realize the great change that has taken place in them in this respect. They are brought gradually to it. Translate yourself back into your unawakened state. How did you live then? The very things that now cause you such distress, you practised every day, and they gave you no concern. The things that horrify you now, in the very thought or temptation to them, you then were daily practising without compunction. You had no hatred to, no dread of sin. You were willing bondslaves of Satan. Now, you are his unwilling slave. Then, you _ran_ towards sin, now, he has to drive you, and when you fall, it is against your will. You hate sin. Now, mind, this is not being saved from it. This is not saying you have power to save yourself from it. In fact, this is the very difficulty personified by the apostle, when representing the ineffectual struggles of a convicted sinner. The things you would not, those you do, and the things you would, those you have not the power to do. Nevertheless, you _desire_ to do them. There is the difference. Once you did not desire to do them, and, perhaps, those who did, were a pack of hypocrites, in your estimation. Now, you feel quite differently, and you struggle, and strive, and pray, and watch. Some of you have told me so, and yet you say, "I am again and again overcome." Of course you are, because you are not _saved yet_! But don't you see, you _desire_ to be. You hate the sin which enthrals you. You struggle against it. You watch against it and you are not overcome half so frequently, perhaps, as you were before. People do not see what a great deal they owe to the convincing and preventing power of the Holy Spirit helping their infirmity, even now, to cut off and pluck out the right hand and the right eye, and bringing them up in a waiting attitude before God, like Cornelius and the eunuch. You, my hearers, some of you, are following after God. You are longing for deliverance, are striving against sin. Take an another illustration. I don't mean that the soul has power to save itself from its internal maladies. That you will get when Jesus Christ saves you. But, I mean this: here is a soul convinced of sin. Here is a man who is daily addicted to drink. He is a drunkard. He becomes convinced of sin. Now, then, the Spirit of God says, "Will you give up the cup?" Then commences the struggle. Now, the question is, are you to teach that man that he is to go on drinking, and expect God to save him? Are you to keep putting before him faith, and telling him, "Oh! never mind your cup, but believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved"--or, are you to tell him, "you must put away your sin, cut off that right hand, pluck out that right eye, renounce that drink forever in your heart, in your purpose, in your will, and until you do, you cannot exercise faith on the Lord Jesus?" Here is another person addicted to lying. He, when he is convinced of sin, sets a watch over his lips, that he may not offend with his mouth, and he does succeed in so guarding himself, or the Holy Spirit so helps him to guard himself, that he does not lie as he used. He is overcome now and then, because he has not yet found the power, but he is resolutely, and as far as his will is concerned, cutting off this outward sin, and waiting in the way of obedience for full deliverance and salvation. There is a servant systematically robs his master's till. He goes to a religious meeting and is convinced. "Now," the Spirit of God says, "you must cut off that dishonesty. You cannot come to this meeting night after night pretending to want to be saved, while you are going on every day robbing your master! You must cut off that right hand, and give up that pilfering, and resolve that you will make restitution, and wait for Me in the way of bringing forth fruits meet for repentance." You see what I mean. Now, you are just here, some of you--you know you are. If you are addicted to any evil habit, it is just the same. Jesus Christ wants you to forswear that habit in your will, determination, and purpose. You have not the power to deliver yourself from it. You may struggle, as some of you tell me you are doing, but it overcomes you, and down you go. He knows all about that, but He approves of the struggle, and the effort, and the watchfulness, and the determination, and when He saves you, He will give you the power, and then you will stand and not fall, for He will hold you up. Now you know that you go thus far, and you know that at this moment, if you had the power in yourself to extinguish the force of that evil habit over you forever, you would do it without another moment's hesitation. You say, "Oh yes, I would indeed. Would to God I had the power." That is repentance; that is _genuine_ repentance. Now, what you cannot do for yourself, He meets you just where you stand, and says, "I will do it for you; I will break the power of that habit; I will deliver you out of the hands of the enemy; I will save you out of that bondage. Only throw your arm of faith around me, and I will lift you up; and I will inspire you with my Spirit; you shall stand in Me and by Me; and what you are now struggling to do for yourself, I will do for you." Then you have got thus far that you hate sin? "Yes, I have." You have said it in your letters to me, and there are others saying it who have not written to me. "Yes," you are saying, "I desire to be saved from it. I would save myself this very instant if I could, and never sin again." Would you? Is not that repentance? What else is it, think you? Suppose you had a disobedient and rebellious son, and he had been living irrespective of your law and will, wasting your money and trampling under foot your commandments. Suppose he comes back, he sees the error of his course. His eyes are opened, perhaps, by affliction, perhaps by want, or ten thousand other things. At any rate he sees it, and he comes home and says, "Oh! father, what a fool I have been; how wicked I have been. I see it all now--I did not see it when I was doing it. I see my evil course, my sins that made you mourn, and turned your hair grey. Oh! how I hate it all. I repent in dust and ashes. Father! I forsake it all! I come home to you!" What would you say? Would you say, "My son, you have not repented enough. Go! begone! Wait till you feel it more!" No, your paternal heart would go out in love and forgiveness, and you would put the kiss of your reconciling love upon his cheek. "Even so there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that _repenteth!_" as there would be joy in that family circle over the return of that wandering child. But suppose that lad were to come and say, "Father, I do thus repent; I do thus forsake my sins; but there are some companions who will follow me so closely that I am afraid I shall again fall under their power, and there are some habits so terrible that I am afraid they will again conquer. Let me, then, be always by your side. You must strengthen me." What would you say? Would you not say, "Then, come in, my son; sit by me, live with me, and I will shield you--I will deliver you? Thou shalt never cross this threshhold without me. I will live with you; I will hold you up." And, as far as a human being could shield another, you would shield your son; he would never lack your sympathy or your strength day or night. Your Heavenly Father lacks neither sympathy or strength. His eye never sleeps. His arm never tires, and you have only to go and lay your helpless weakness on His Almighty strength by this one desperate leap of faith, and He will hold you up, even though there were a legion of devils around you. Lastly, you _renounce_ your sins, that is, in will, purpose, and determination. You say, "I never wish to grieve Him again." You sing it, and you feel it. "I never want to grieve Him any more;" and if you could only live without grieving Him, you would not much mind, even if it were in hell itself. Is not that penitence? You know it is. You renounce sin. You do not say, "Lord Jesus, save me with this right hand, with this right eye; Lord Jesus, save me with these forbidden things hanging about my skirts." No; you say, "Lord Jesus, save me out of them. Make me clean." That is penitence. You see it. You hate it. You renounce it. Now then, believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. Oh, Holy Spirit, reveal the simple way of faith. III. You say, "How am I to believe?" Some despairing soul asked me this in large letters, "How am I to believe?" How does a bride believe in her husband when she gives herself to him at the altar? She trusts him with herself. She believes in him. She makes a contract, and goes home, and lives as if it were true. That is _faith_. How do you trust your physician when you are sick, as you lay in repose or anguish upon your bed? You trust him with your case. You commit yourself to him. You believe in his skill, and obey his orders. Have faith like this in Jesus Christ. Trust and obey, and expect that it is going to be with you according to His Word. Instead of this, the faith of many people is like that of a person afflicted with some grievous malady. A friend tells him of a wonderful physician who has cured hundreds of such cases, and gives him abundant evidence that this doctor is able and willing to cure him, if he will only commit himself to his treatment. The sick man may thoroughly believe in the testimony of his friend about this physician, and yet, for some secret reason, he may refuse to put himself into his hands. Now, there are numbers like that with Jesus Christ. They believe He could cure the malady of sin on certain conditions. They believe He is no respecter of persons. They believe He has done it for hundreds as bad as they, and yet there is some reason why they do not _trust Him_. They hold back. Now, what you want is to give your case into His hands, and say, "Lord Jesus, I come as Thou hast bid me, confessing and forsaking sin. If I could, I would jump out of it now and forever. Thou knowest I come renouncing it, but not having power to save myself from it; and now, Lord Jesus, Thou hast said, "Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out." I do come; Thou dost not cast me out; Thou dost take me; Thou dost receive me. Blessed, Holy Father, I give myself to Thee. I put my sins upon the glorious sacrifice of Thy Son. Thou hast said Thou wilt receive me, and pardon me for His sake. Now, I roll the guilty burden on His bleeding body, and I believe Thy promise, I trust Thee to be as good as Thy word." _That is faith_. "Oh!" said a dear lady, "I do not feel it." No: you must trust first. Mark, not believe you are saved, but believe that He does now save you. "What things soever ye desire when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them." That is the law of faith. Believe that ye receive it before you feel it; when you receive it then you shall feel it. God shall be true, and every man or devil who contradicts Him, a liar. Throw your arms around the Crucified. Take fast hold of the hand of the Son of God. Put your poor, guilty soul right at the foot of His cross, and say, "Thou dost receive; Thou dost pardon; Thou dost cleanse; Thou dost save;" and keep using the language of faith. I have seen numbers of souls step into liberty repeating these precious words in the first person, "He was wounded for _my_ transgressions, He was bruised for _my_ iniquities, the chastisement of _my_ peace was laid upon Him, and by His stripes _I am_ healed." Keep using the language of faith all the way home to-night. Go into your closet and say, "I am determined to be saved, if there is any such thing as salvation." Resolve that if you perish, you will perish in that room, at the foot of the cross, suing for pardon, and you will get it. I have never known a soul come to this who did not soon get saved. Get into the lifeboat. Put off from the old stranded wreck of your own righteousness or your own efforts; step right into the lifeboat of His broken, bleeding body. Take fast hold, and resolve that you will never let go until the answering Spirit comes into your soul, crying, "Abba, Father," and you shall know of a truth that you have passed from death unto life. The Lord help you. Amen. CHAPTER III. CHARITY. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.--1 COR. xiii. 13. It must be a precious thing to be greater than _faith_, and greater than _hope_--it must, indeed, be precious!--and, just in proportion as things are valuable and precious amongst men, so much trouble and risk will human speculators take to counterfeit them. I suppose that in no department of roguery in this roguish world, has there been more time and ingenuity expended, than in making counterfeit money, especially bank notes. Just as wicked men have tried to imitate the most valuable of human productions for their own profit, so the devil has been trying to counterfeit God's most precious things from the beginning, and to produce something so like them that mankind at large should not see the difference, and, perhaps, in no direction has he been so successful as in producing a _Spurious Charity_.--I almost think he has got it to perfection in these days. I don't think he can very well improve on the present copy. This Charity--this love--is God's most precious treasure; it is dearer to His heart than all the vast domains of His universe--dearer than all the glorious beings He has created. So much so, that when some of the highest spirits amongst the angelic bands violated this love, He hurled them from the highest Heaven to the nethermost hell! Why? Not because He did not value those wonderful beings, but because He valued this _love more_. Because He saw that it was more important to the well-being of His universe to maintain the harmony of love in Heaven than to save those spirits who had allowed selfishness to interfere with it. So our Lord says, "I beheld Satan as lightning fall from Heaven." The day is coming when He will behold all the dire progeny of this first rebellion fall also. Haste, happy day! But, let us look for a few minutes at this precious, beautiful Charity. Let us try, first, to define it. What is it? _First_.--_It is Divine_. It must be shed abroad in the heart by the Holy Ghost. In vain do we look for this heavenly plant amongst the unrenewed children of men--it grows not on the corrupt soil of human nature; it springs only where the ploughshare of true repentance has broken up the fallow ground of the heart, and where faith in a crucified Saviour has purified it, and where the blessed Holy Spirit has taken permanent possession. It is the love _of_ God--not only love _to_ God, but _like_ God, _from_ God, and fixed on the same objects and ends which He loves. It is a Divine implantation by the Holy Ghost. Perhaps some of you are saying, "Then it is useless for me to try to cultivate it, because I have not got it,--exactly!" You may cut and prune and water forever, but you can never cultivate that which is not planted. Your first work is to get this love shed abroad in your heart. It is one of the delusions of this age that human nature only wants pruning, improving, developing, and it come out right. No, no! Every plant which my Heavenly Father hath not planted shall be rooted up. If you want this Divine love, you must break up the fallow ground of your hearts, and invite the Heavenly Husbandman to come and sow it--shed it abroad in your soul. _Secondly_, I want you to note that this love is a Divine principle, in contradistinction to the mere love of instinct. All men have love as an instinct; mere natural love towards those whom they like, or who do well for them. "If ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even publicans the same?" Wicked men love one another from mere natural affinity, as the tiger loves its cubs. There is great confusion amongst professors of religion on this subject. They feel sentiments of pity and generosity towards their fellow-men, and they may even give their goods to feed the poor, and yet not have a spark of Divine Charity in their hearts. Saul, after God departed from him, was not wholly destitute of generous feeling respecting his family and kingdom. Dives in hell had some pity for his brethren! But neither of them had a spark of this Divine Charity. Mind you are not deceived; millions are! Let us note one or two points wherein a spurious and Divine Charity utterly and forever diverge--disagree in nature. _First._--Spurious Charity is selfish--is never exercised but to gratify some selfish principle in human nature. Thousands of motives inspire it--too many to enumerate; but we will glance at two or three. We read in the context that a man might give his goods to feed the poor, and his body to be burned, and yet be destitute of true Charity. Now what an anomaly. But we have wonderful illustrations that such a thing is possible. First, a man may do this to support and carry out a favorite system of intellectual belief of which he has become enamored, just as men become absorbed, in politics, or in what they consider the good of their nation, so that they will even go to the cannon's mouth to promote it. Further, a man may do it in order to merit eternal life. Paul did this when he went about to establish his own righteousness. He tells us afterwards that self was the mainspring of all his zeal. It was all his own exaltation; there was no Divine love; he was an utterly unrenewed, Christless, and selfish man, at the very time he was doing this. Or, it may be, in the third place, to gratify a naturally generous disposition. I used to say to a generous friend of mine, when he was talking in a confidential way about his giving, and the delight it gave him, attributing it to Divine grace--I used to put my hand on his, and say, "Hold! my friend; I am not so sure it is all grace. You like giving better than other people do receiving. Look out that you do not lose your reward through not taking the trouble to see what you give to; don't give your money to every scheme that comes across you. Remember that you are answerable to God for your wealth, and that God will demand of you HOW you have bestowed your goods." That is true Charity that takes the trouble to investigate relative claims, and tries to find out the best channels in which to give for God's glory and the salvation of men. Don't you put down your generosity to the Holy Ghost if it is not of that kind, for you will never receive a bit of interest for it, here or hereafter--not a fraction! A false Charity begins in self and ends on earth. Here is a mark for you to distinguish between it and God's Charity. The devil's Charity always contemplates the earthy part of man in a superior degree to the spiritual part; and here it exactly crosses and contradicts the Divine Charity, which always contemplates man in the entirety of his being, and always gives the first importance to the soul. We have plenty of spurious Charity in these days. The other day when I took up a so-called "religious print," and saw some fulsome things it had been saying about a certain individual, lately dead, I thought, really, would one ever imagine this were a Christian paper, in a Christian country? There is not the slightest recognition of a soul, no reference to the man's spiritual condition or his future state. Here are one or two of the most ordinary human qualifications seized on, and made the most of, to make it out that he was something beyond his fellows, but, as to any recognition of a soul, or of a God who will judge him, of a Heaven or hell, nothing! Oh, people say, when speaking of Godless, and even wicked men, "You must be _charitable,_ you must not judge." Satan does not care how much of this one-sided Charity there is; the more the better for his purpose; it will make people all the more comfortable in their sins, and get them all the more easily down to hell. My friends, are you more concerned about relieving temporal distress than you are about feeding famished souls? If you are, you may know where your charity comes from! Don't misrepresent me, and say that I teach all of one, and none of the other. God forbid, for, if any man "hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?" But, on the other side, if he sees him spiritually famishing--dying for want of the bread of life--how dwelleth the love of Christ in him, if he does not minister to this spiritual destitution? I know that real Christianity cares for body and soul. Bless God, it does; but, always mind that it sets the soul FIRST. I know the Master fed the multitude; but, before that, He had them with Him three days, trying to save their souls, and when they got hungry in the process, then He made them sit down, and fed their bodies. He always looked after the soul first, and so does everyone possessed of Divine Charity. Why? Because Divine Charity has opened his eyes. He realizes the value of souls. He sees them famishing. He sees them being damned, and he cannot help himself. His desire to save them rushes out of him like a torrent; he beholds them, and has compassion on them. Try your Charity by this mark: Do you contemplate the dying, famishing, half-damned souls of your fellow-men? Do you look abroad on the state of the world, and the state of the church? Do you think about it? Do you go into your closet, and spread it before the Lord, as Hezekiah and Jeremiah and Hosea did? Do you look at it, and turn it over, and weep over it, and pray and cry, as Daniel and Paul did? Try yourselves, my brethren, my sisters, by this mark. Divine Charity is always revolving round that great problem of infinite love. "What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" Oh, I can never get it out of my ears or away from my heart! Oh, how I see the emptiness and vanity of everything compared with the salvation of the soul! What does it matter, if a man dies in the work-house--if he dies on a door-step, covered with wounds, like Lazarus--what does it matter, if his soul is saved? It is your creed as much as mine, that the soul is immortal, and that the death of the body is only its introduction, if it be saved, to a glorious future of everlasting felicity, progress, and holiness. Does the child remember how he used to cry over his lessons, when he becomes a man? Does he remember all the little difficulties of his school days, when he is inheriting the fruits of them? Just so; ten thousand times less important will be all our sufferings, trials, and griefs here, if we save our souls, and the souls of others. This Divine Charity makes everything else subservient to the salvation of souls; it uses everything else to save and bless the inner and spiritual man. Do you remember, on one occasion, when the Master had fed the multitudes, and when they came to Him again to be fed, He said, "Ye seek Me, not because ye saw the miracles, but because ye did eat of the loaves, and were filled." You would have said, "Quite right; the people want to be fed; they are hungry." But do you hear the Divine lament that comes out in these words, that they were so spiritually obtuse, that they valued the earthly bread more than the heavenly! Give them as much temporal bread as you like, but mind you give them the spiritual bread first, for this is characteristic of true Charity. Have you got this Charity? Every soul knows whether it has or not. People are so unphilosophical in religion; they talk about not knowing; but you can find out in two minutes whether you love God or yourself best. Tell me that woman does not know whether she loves her husband or herself best! Nonsense! What is the proof?--she seeks to please him, and is willing to sacrifice herself for him--in fact, merges her interests altogether in his. Do you love God best? Are you willing to forego your interests, and to seek His? Have you this Divine Charity, born of Heaven, tending to Heaven? If not, my friend, resolve you will have it now. Begin to cry mightily to God, for the Holy Spirit to shed it abroad in your heart; give up your quibblings and reasonings, and go down at the foot of the cross and ask Him,--"Come, Lord, and break up this poor, wicked heart of mine, and shed this beautiful, pure, Divine Charity abroad in it," and then you will not, henceforth, seek your own, but the things that are Jesus Christ's. CHAPTER IV. CHARITY AND REBUKE. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.--1 COR. xiii. 13. The second main point of difference between a true and a false Charity, we want to remark, is, _Divine Charity is not only consistent with, but it very often necessitates, reproof and rebuke by its possessor_. It renders it incumbent on those who possess it to reprove and rebuke whatever is evil--whatever does not tend to the highest interests of its object. This Charity conforms in this, as in everything else, to its Divine model--"As many as I love I rebuke and chasten"--when necessary for the good of its object, for He doth not _willingly_ afflict or grieve the children of men, any more than a father willingly chastises a disobedient child; but, if he be a wise father, he will do it because he loves it. Just so the possessor of this Divine Charity can afford to rebuke and reprove sin wherever he finds it. He will not suffer sin upon his neighbor, but will in any wise reprove him, and strive to win him to the right. We will just turn to a beautiful illustration (there are many, if we had time to go into them) of the working of this Divine Charity in the heart and life of the very apostle who wrote this 13th of Corinthians. We cannot get wrong, because it is Paul himself. (Gal. ii. 11-15.) "But when Peter was come to Antioch, I withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed. For before that certain came from James, he did eat with the Gentiles; but when they were come, he withdrew and separated himself, fearing them which were of the circumcision. And the other Jews dissembled likewise with him; insomuch that Barnabas also was carried away with their dissimulation. But when I saw that they walked not uprightly according to the truth of the Gospel, I said unto Peter before _them_ all"-- Well done, Paul,--noble, gloriously courageous Charity that! He did not go and mutter behind Peter's back and stab him in the dark-- "I said unto Peter _before them all_, If thou, being a Jew, livest after the manner of the Gentiles, and not as do the Jews, why compellest thou the Gentiles to live as do the Jews? We _who are_ Jews by nature, and not sinners of the Gentiles." You want a characteristic of true Charity. Now, listen to it. It would be exceedingly painful to Paul thus publicly to rebuke Peter. They loved one another, for we find Peter, long after this, in one of his Epistles, calling Paul "our beloved brother, Paul." They loved one another. Paul understood the claims of true Charity, for he wrote this thirteenth of Corinthians. If he loved Peter, and if he understood the claims of true Charity, why did he thus openly rebuke Peter, why did he inflict upon himself the pain of doing it? Faithfulness to Peter himself, faithfulness to the truth, faithfulness to Jesus Christ demanded it; therefore, he sacrificed his own personal feelings, and inflicted this pain upon himself, rather than allow Peter to go wrong, the Romans to be misled, and the Jews to be carried away with worldly policy. Paul set himself to rebuke Peter in the presence of all, for truth lay, as it very often does, with the minority; nearly all the influence was on the side of the circumcision. _They_ were the most influential of the brethren, and Paul set himself against all this influence in his rebuke of Peter. Why? Because faithfulness to the truth demanded it, and Divine Charity is FIRST PURE. There is a greater example still in our Lord Himself, in the Master whose whole soul was love, whose life was one sacrifice for the good of His creatures; and yet how faithfully He reproved His own when they erred from the truth, and how fearlessly He exposed and denounced the shallowness and hypocrisy of those who professed to love God, and yet contradicted this profession in their lives. How fearlessly He reproved sin everywhere. He said to his disciples on one occasion, "Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of. For the Son of man is not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them." As if He had said, you ought to have learned this before now. On another occasion, He said, "Are ye also yet without understanding?" And again, "Get thee behind me, Satan, for thou savourest not the things that be of God;" that was Divine Charity, that was faithful love, that dared to rebuke, rather than let the object of it do wrong, and sin against God. And again, when He goes to the hypocrites and Pharisees, He says, "Ye say ye are the children of Abraham"--(it was as difficult for Jesus Christ to confute the professors of His day, as it is for His ambassadors to confute the professors of this day, who are living inconsistently with their professions)--He said, "Ye say that ye are the children of Abraham; if ye were the children of Abraham, ye would listen to me; or, if ye were the children of God, ye would believe in me, for I came out from God. No! ye are the children of your father, the devil, and his works ye do." And yet His Divine heart was full, to breaking, of love, and broke itself on the cross for them, and prayed, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." Oh, that your Charity and mine might not lack this lineament of the Divine likeness! Would to God there were more of this faithful, loving Charity, that dares to reprove sin, and to rebuke its brother, instead of the false Charity that fawns on a man to his face, and goes behind him and stabs him in the back. Do you suppose that the great mass of the professors of this generation think one another to be right? Take almost any given church. Do you suppose that the great mass of the members of that church suppose in their hearts that their fellow members, brothers and sisters in church communion, are living consistently--I don't mean in _things_ only, but in heart--that they are living really godly lives? Alas! witness what they say behind each other's backs. They believe no such thing; they know perfectly well it is not so, and they take care to tell other people so; and yet there is not one in a thousand of them ever went privately to his brother, and took lovingly hold of his hand, and reproved him for his sinful and backsliding conduct. What would be thought of any woman who were to go, after being to church the day before, and ask for a private interview with Mrs. ----, and, when alone with her, with tears in her eyes, and deep earnestness in her voice, were to say, "Dear Mrs. ----, I have come to see you on a very painful errand, but will you suffer a word of exhortation from one so unworthy and weak as I feel myself to be, and yet, I trust, one who has the Spirit of God, which urges me to come to you? Will you allow me to say that I was much pained with your attitude at church, yesterday. It seemed to me that your mind was not at all occupied with the solemnity of the service, but seemed to be occupied in criticising the person's dress in the seat opposite to you, and I could not help noticing that when you got outside the doors you began to laugh and talk in a way quite incompatible with the service you had been attending?" If she were to say, "Dear Mrs. ----, I have not mentioned this to a soul, not even to my husband, but I have come to tell it to you; let us go down before the Lord and ask Him for the Holy Spirit, that He may show you how wrong you are, and how you are sliding away from the love of God"--what would be the thought, what would be said, of such conduct? If everybody who sees sin upon his neighbor would do that--if he would take the Lord's counsel and go and see his brother alone, and tell him his fault--how many would be saved from backsliding, and how many a disgraceful split and controversy in churches might be saved! But where are the people who will do it? I don't mean there are not any--God forbid--I know there are; but I am speaking comparatively. Where is the man who will inflict pain upon himself?--for that is the point. If it were a pleasant duty, he would do it easily enough; but it is a painful duty, he does not like to screw himself up to it. Where is the man that will do it, rather than suffer his brother to go to sleep in his sin, and rather than the precious cause of Christ shall be disgraced and injured? Where are the saints who will go in meekness and in love to try to reclaim the one who has erred? I hope you know a great many. I am sorry to say I know only a few. If you know many, I am very glad, and the more you know the better I am pleased. If you are one of these, that is one, at all events. If every Christian would have this sort of Charity, what a change would soon come about. That is what the church wants--people who can afford to rebuke and reprove, because they don't care what men think of THEM --who are set only on pleasing their Lord and Master, and doing His will. Have you got this Charity that seeketh not her own? What a contrast between Saul and Paul. Did you ever think about it? What does he say? "I went about to establish my own righteousness." That was his inspiring motive; that was the spring of his action, before he got true Charity; not that he cared for the kingdom of God, but he cared for his own honor, glory, and exaltation, and wanted to stand well with his nation. Then contrast him when he becomes Paul. What does he say? "For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh." _There_ is Charity, if you like. These were the very people with whom he had been so anxious to stand well, and whose good word he wanted; but, when the Holy Ghost had come, and Paul had got the Divine Charity, and got his eyes opened to see their devilish and lost condition, he so weeps over them that he says, "I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart. For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ, for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh." _There is a contrast_. He does not care now, what they think of HIM; he is going about, trying to open their eyes and make them see that they are not the children of Abraham, but the children of the devil, that they are going to the bottomless pit, and that, unless they turn round and seek the God of their fathers, they must perish. Self is lost sight of altogether, now; Paul's heart and soul and efforts are set on the salvation of men. If they choose to; praise him, he takes it as a matter of course; if they choose to condemn him, he takes that as a matter of course, too. He is seeking the kingdom, and, however men treat him, the kingdom he seeks, right on to martyrdom. He runs the gauntlet of their direst hate and malice, that he may open their eyes and turn them from Satan to God, and from sin to righteousness. Self is lost sight of; it is not Paul now--it is Christ and His kingdom. False Charity is the opposite of this. Its possessor is most concerned about what people think of HIM; not how they treat his professed Lord. The possessor of false Charity cannot afford to reprove anybody. Oh, dear, no! he would faint at the very idea; and he calls people hard and legal and censorious who dare to do it--poor, sneaking coward! but he will not be afraid to stab a man behind his back. The speech of this false Charity betrayeth it, it flattereth with its lips; honey is on its tongue, but the poison of asps is underneath; beware of it! Even when it professes to commend a brother, or neighbor, it rolls up its sanctimonious eyes, and always puts a "but" in--one of the devil's "buts." "Oh, he is a good man, but--." "Yes, I have a great esteem for him, only there is such and such a thing." Oh, it is very Divine. The devil can put on a garb of light when it answers his purpose. Oh, the fair reputations that this slime of the serpent has trailed over! Oh, the influence for good that this venom of the devil has poisoned and ruined, for it has been, truly said, "There is no virtue so white that back-wounding calumny will not strike"--even in God's perfect man, those who are watching and seeking to betray can find something on which to ground their accusations. I say, mind which Charity you have got True Charity, rejoiceth not in iniquity. Are you conscious in your soul of a feeling of triumph when anybody that you don't like happens to fall on some evil thing? If you have, look out--the devil has got hold of you. Do you rejoice in iniquity when it happens to an enemy? If so, woe be to you, unless you get that venom out. God won't have it in Heaven. _One man with that venom in him would damn Paradise_, "Love your enemies"--love them; "bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of your Father which is in Heaven." Now, my brother, my sister, try yourself. "We shall meet again, and you will find that these are no imaginary vagaries that I have been talking of; they are realities--though these great realities of our Christianity are seldom preached in these days; but they are _here_, and there is no truth in you if you have not got the Charity which hates evil as evil, and which will reprove it, and root it out, and have it _cured_!" Here, again, false Charity is the very antipodes of the Divine. It does not care much about righteousness. Quietness is its beau ideal of all that is lovely and excellent. It says, "Let us be quiet; you must not disturb the peace of the church." It cries, "Peace, peace!" when there is no peace. It says, "We cannot help these evils. Every man must look after himself; we are not responsible for our neighbor." It knows very often that there are continents of dirt underneath--"things," and "systems," and men--which it chooses to patronize; but then, it is covered up, and so it says, "Let it alone; we cannot have a smudge. Let it alone. Peace! Peace! Never mind righteousness--the church must be supported, if the money does come out of the dried-up vitals of drunkards and harlots; never mind, we must have it. Never mind if our songs are mixed with the shrieks of widows and orphans, of the dying and damned! Sing away, sing away, and drown their voices. Never mind; we cannot have it looked into, and rooted out, and pulled up. Peace; we must have peace!" And they call you, as Ahab did Elijah, the disturber of Israel, if you dare to touch the sore place and exhibit their putrifying wounds and bruises; and when you say to them, "The law of life is, 'Do unto others as you would they should do unto you,'" they impudently turn upon you and say, "But we are not expected to be perfect in this life," and so they throw a thicker covering over the filth, and on it goes. This is the devil's Charity; and the more the better for his purpose. But the Charity and the wisdom which is from above, is first pure, and then peaceable! I would rather be in everlasting warfare in company with that which is fair, and true, and good, than I would walk in harmony with that which is hollow, and rotten, and vile, and destined for the bottomless pit. The Lord help you to make the same choice! CHAPTER V. CHARITY AND CONFLICT. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.--1 COR. xiii. 13. Another characteristic of this Divine Charity is, that it OFTEN INVOLVES CONFLICT. It was so with our Lord. He was the very personification of it. He was love itself, and grace and truth poured from His lips incessantly. His blessed feet went about doing good, and His hands ministering to the necessities and happiness of His creatures, yet His whole course through this degenerate world was one of conflict, opposition, and persecution. His proper mission was to bring peace on earth; but the result of it was a sword! Why? That was not His fault. He would, doubtless, have enjoyed being at peace with all men, as His ambassador exhorts us--"as much as lieth in us to be." More, He was the Prince of Peace! Then, how was it that wherever He went, there was sword, opposition, and conflict to the death? Because men _resisted_ and _rejected_ His Divine and Heavenly ministrations. They would not hear His rebukes and His teaching, because they condemned them. They would not listen to His voice, because they were of their father the devil, and the works of their father they would do; and, therefore, they went about to persecute Him, and to kill Him. This was the reason--not that _He_ wanted it to be so, but it was the consequence of their resistance to the beautiful, heavenly, and Divine truths which He taught; and it is just so now, with the same truth, and the living embodiments of such truth. JESUS CHRIST COME IN THE FLESH AGAIN IN HIS PEOPLE, living out before the world His principles, acting upon His precepts, living for the same objects for which He lived, will produce, exactly and everywhere, the same result. It must be so while men are divided into two classes--the righteous and the wicked--those who are born of the flesh, and those who are born of the Spirit. One must either give in, or there must be perpetual conflict and warfare. It was so with the Saviour, and so, perhaps, with some of us. I think this is often a snare to God's really sincere people. I think some of God's people are afraid; they don't like the feeling that their hand is against every man, and every man's hand against them, or nearly so. They do not like the feeling of isolation; they do not like being compelled to take a course which nearly all the Christian professors round about them condemn, and make out to be uncharitable, and they often examine themselves to see whether it is possible that they may be going wrong in following the Divine Spirit. They say with Jeremiah, and with the Jeremiahs of every age, "Woe is me, my mother, that thou hast borne me a man of strife and a man of contention to the whole earth!" They are as "speckled birds, against whom all the birds round about are gathered." They feel this opposition and conflict deeply, but what are they to do? Very often, in following the leadings of the Divine Spirit, it is impossible for us to avoid such consequences. We have to march through troops of opposing forces. We have to become the subjects of almost universal suspicion. But what then? Must we give in? Must we decline to tread in the bloodstained footsteps of the Captain of our salvation? Must we decline the honor of being in the advance guard of the Lamb's army because of the conflict, because of the pain, because of the persecution? Nay, nay; let us hold on, those here, who are thus led by the Divine Spirit into paths which involve conflict with everybody. Follow on, brother! follow on, sister! There is no point on which those who want to come out thoroughly for God, suffer more than oh this. They continually say, "You see, my friends"--they are Christian, friends--"my friends object." People come, to see me, or they write that the Spirit of God has been urging them into a certain course, for months or years, and they are held back by the opinions and wishes, perhaps, of parents, or of brothers and sisters, or uncles, or aunts, or Christian friends. _I believe it will be found, in the great day of account, that there have been more blessed enterprises crushed, more leadings of the Holy Ghost disobeyed, more urgings of the Spirit quenched, through the influence of what are called Christian friends, than all other influences put together. "Suffer me first to go and bury my father," is an everlasting standing excuse for those whom, the Lord calls on in advance paths of Christian service! Oh, my friends, I am sure of it. Look out, you fathers and mothers, you brothers and sisters, and aunts!_ Do not misunderstand me. Carefully weigh, probe, and examine, before God, your impressions and desires. Go into your closet, spread them there before the Lord. Lay them out, examine your own heart. Be sure there is no self-interest, no vain glory, no desire to be great, or to do some out-of-the-way thing. Be as clear as you like; be satisfied, in your own mind, that it is God's call, and then let fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, husbands, or wives complain--but go forward, my brother, and God will justify you. If, twenty years ago, I had stopped for Christian friends to sanction and to open the door, I should have waited till today, and the number of souls God, in His infinite mercy, has given me, I should not have gathered. But I did not wait for anybody's sanction to my Lord and Master's call; but said, "Lord, if I die in attempting it, I will do it." He seldom lets people die in attempting His will. He stands by them, and gives them abundant fruit. A lady said to me the other day, "You know my father is a Christian, and I am so afraid of going opposite to him." "Yes," I said, "that is quite a right feeling; I respect that feeling in you." But she was a woman of considerably matured age, and I added, "But is your father awake to the interests of God's kingdom as he ought to be?" She replied, "I dare not say he is." "I suppose," I said "he is comparatively old--a sort of dried-up Christian, who has lost the vigor and enterprise of his youthful days, when he wanted to go out and make everybody Christian?" "Yes," she said, "he has gone sadly behind in his zeal for the kingdom of Jesus Christ." "Now," I said, "God holds you responsible, just as He holds any other being. _He has not two codes-one for men and one for women._ There will be no two judgment seats, whatever men do here. God will hold you responsible for obedience to the teaching of His Spirit, and the leading of His providence, as much as your brother. What shall you say? You will be in the position of the man who said, 'Suffer me first to go and bury my father.'" She said, "I am afraid I shall." Now, I say, let us settle this, you Protestant Christians here. Because Catholicism has abused this principle, that a man is to leave his father and mother, and houses and lands, if needs be, is that any reason that we Protestants are to give it up? And has it come to this, that a man has only to follow Christ when everybody approves it --cries "Amen"--and when his own interests appear to him to be secured by so doing? Then, if it were so, I would give up religion altogether, and go and enjoy myself. I said to a lady, "When you married yourself to the Lord Jesus Christ, you put yourself in the same position as you would to an earthly husband." What woman in the world would feel that she ought to obey father and mother, rather than her husband? Ridiculous! Much less is she to obey her father, if her father's wishes are exactly contrary to the Divine teaching. She is only to obey IN THE LORD, and yet thousands of fathers and mothers are preventing their children working for God. Oh! what will you say to God when your precious children stand at His bar, without the sheaves they might have gathered, and the souls they might have won? What will you say to Him? And why do you hold them back? Oh, the mean, paltry considerations that you would be ashamed to own before this congregation! Is it for fear of suffering? Not in many instances; but, even if it were, did you bargain with Jesus Christ when you gave yourself and children to Him, that they were not to suffer for Him? Is it because of your pride?--because you want for them this world's applause and favor? Look out! God has wonderful ways of chastising His people in those very things in which they sell His interest. But you say that "everybody will be against you!" Yes, very likely. Let us settle that at once. Count all things dung and dross. Let none of these things move you. You say, "It will be a life of conflict to the end." Very likely, so was His. "I am so weak," you say. He knows all about that. You say, "It will be so cutting to have people saying this, and saying the other." I know it is cutting, but that is the path He calls you to tread, and He will give you grace to bear the cutting. "Blessed are ye when men shall revile you and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you, falsely, for my sake;" and, "If ye be reproached for the name of Christ, happy are ye; for the spirit of glory and of God resteth upon you." He does not show where He is leading us, so we can only go a step at a time. The future may look dark, but let us be fully persuaded in our own minds that the step in advance is the step the Lord wants us to take--then take it, and leave the future with Him. Come out, as Abraham did, not knowing whither you go; and, as sure as He sits upon the throne, He will vindicate your course, and, perhaps, the very things that you sacrifice, or that you think you sacrifice, for Him, He will give you, as the reward of your faithfulness. Oh, have I not known many such instances. I have known daughters who have been turned out of their father's houses for following the leadings of the Spirit of God, and who have endured all sorts of persecution, and trial, and suffering, and those fathers, when they were dying, would have nobody else to pray with them but that individual daughter. The way to win the souls of parents is by a consistent, steadfast, holy consecration to the Lord Jesus; whereas, if you pander, and trim, and hesitate, you will miss the reward. Do you think people do not know when we are inconsistent? Oh, yes, they know quite well, and they say, "That is not the right sort of religion;" but you be consistent and thorough, and God will honor these very means to the winning of the souls about whom you are so concerned. Further, a false Charity shrinks from opposition. It cannot bear persecution. Now, here is one unfailing characteristic of a false Charity: _it is always on the winning side_--that is, apparently, down here; not what will be, ultimately, the winning side. When Truth sits enthroned, with a crown on her head, this false Charity is most vociferous in her support and devotion; but when her garments trail in the dust, and her followers are few, feeble, and poor, then Jesus Christ may look after Himself. I sometimes think respecting this hue and cry about the glory of God and the sanctity of religion, I would like to see some of these saints put into the common hall with Jesus again, amongst a band of ribald, mocking, soldiers. I would like to see, then, their zeal for the glory of God, when it touched their own glory. They are wonderfully zealous when their glory and His glory go together; but, when the mob is at His heels, crying, "Away with Him!--crucify Him!--crucify Him!"--then He may look after His own glory, and they will take care of theirs. True Charity sticks to the LORD JESUS IN THE MUD, when He is fainting under His cross, as well as when the people are cutting down the boughs and crying "Hosanna!" I fear many people make the Lord Jesus Christ a stalking-horse on which to secure their ends. God grant us not to be of that number, for, if we are, He will topple us from the very gates of Heaven down to the nethermost hell. This false Charity cannot go to the dungeon--you never find it at the stake. It always manages to shift its sides, and change its face, before it goes as far as that. Never in disgrace; never with Jesus Christ in the minority, at Golgotha--on the cross. Always with Him when He is riding triumphant! Oh, I often think if times of persecution were to come again how many of us would be faithful? How many would go to the dungeon? How many would stand by the truth, with hooting, howling mobs at our heels, such as followed Him on the way to the cross--such as stood round His cross and spat upon Him, and cast lots for His vesture, and parted His garments among them, and wagged their heads and cried, "He saved others; Himself He cannot save"? How many of us would stick to Him then? But, as your soul and mine liveth, that is the only kind of love that will stand the test of the Judgment Day. Oh, have you got this Charity? Love in the darkness; Love in the Garden; Love in sorrow; Love in suffering; Love in isolation; Love in persecution; Love to the death!--Have we got this love? Examine yourselves, beloved, and see whether you are in the faith or not, for there is much need of it in this day, when there are so many false gospels and so much false doctrine;--when we hear so much about being "complete in Him" by people who never were in Him at all, and no more understand what it means than the very kitten that lies on their hearth. I say, examine yourself, whether you be in the faith or not, and whether you are in Him; for, verily, it is no easier now to be His real followers than ever it was. Further, a false Charity _refuses to call things by their proper names!_ Oh! what endless ways it has of putting lying! lying that is done on this day by professing Christians! Oh, the nice, comfortable, self-indulgent ways it has of looking at ungodly trades and practices! What do I mean? I mean trades that cannot be made subservient to the interest of the kingdom of Christ; trades that thrive by ministering either to the vile passions of human nature, or to the ungodliness of human nature. By what nice names it calls Satanic traffics in the bodies, hearts, and souls of men! And, when Divine Charity remonstrates with it, it turns round and says, "Well, you know, but we must have regard to our own interests; we have large interests at stake." I sometimes say, "God knows you have! and, when the Judge riseth up to avenge those who have been oppressed and destroyed by your iniquitous traffics, you will find them sadly TOO LARGE, TOO BIG FOR THE HELL ITSELF TO CONTAIN." The Lord have mercy on any of you who are living on the follies or wickedness of your fellow-men. Make haste to get out of such trades. Wash your hands of them, for, depend upon it, that is the devil's Charity that would try to make you comfortable in them! It has nothing to do with Divine Charity. "Oh, my soul, come not into their secret; unto their assembly, mine honor, be not thou united," but stand aloof from all such alliances of light with darkness, of truth with falsehood; "have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness," "For behold the day cometh that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble; and the day that cometh shall burn them up, saith the Lord of hosts, that it shall leave them neither root nor branch." He is the same God; He changes not! Let us call things by their right names. Let us face the evil. Let us chase it out of the world--or, at any rate, chase it out of the church. Depend upon it, the Lord is going to prove all things. I can hear, as it were, the rumbling of the earthquake of the Divine indignation underground, I can see the gathering of the Divine wrath overhead; and, IF THIS NATION DOES NOT REPENT, AND IF THE CHURCHES OF THIS LAND DO NOT COME OUT AND WASH THEIR HANDS OF THESE THINGS, GOD WILL SEND US SUCH A BAPTISM OF BLOOD AS WE HAVE NEVER CONCEIVED OF, AND HE WILL PUT US OUT, and put some other nation in our place, or else He will act contrary to all His former dealings with nations! Do you suppose that Jerusalem was more guilty than we are? Have we not been exalted much higher than Jerusalem ever was? And have we not sinned against greater light and privilege than ever she did? Are not our professed Christians exactly the same in character as her Pharisees? Do they not make fine and long prayers, and, at the same time, devour the widow and fatherless? Yea, for hellish gain, do they not make widows and orphans wholesale? Might not God truly say of us, "Ah, sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a seed of evildoers, children that are corrupters: they have forsaken the Lord, they have provoked the Holy One of Israel unto anger: they are gone away backward." Even the prophets prophesy falsely, and the people love to have it so! Do you say, "No, we are not so _bad?"_ I answer, look abroad over the land, open your eyes, observe and see. Has it not become proverbial--have you not heard it until your ears have tingled, and your face burned with shame--"Better go and deal with anybody than a Christian"? and, alas! has there not been much ground for it? Have we any need to wonder that infidels wag their heads? Can you go into a shop where you are sure you will not be extortioned? Do you know anybody who keeps a conscience with respect to the profits he makes? Is there anybody scarcely who won't charge his neighbor more than the article is worth, if he has a chance, and call it lawful? _That_ is extortion. It may be only asking twopence for an article worth a penny, or a 1,000 pounds for what 700 pounds should buy; it does not matter the amount--it is EXTORTION! God puts extortioners amongst the blackest of sinners. The Lord help me to "Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others," and have the Charity that will not take a mean advantage of my neighbor because I have the chance, and thus traduce the precious name of the Holy Jesus by calling myself one of His followers. It is time this satanic Charity was swept out! The very first law, the very vital principle of true Charity, is _righteousness._ There is no Charity apart from righteousness. If your Charity is incompatible with righteousness, it is born of the devil and leads to hell! If you have had anything revealed to you, in your heart or life, that you see to be wrong, say, "Here Lord, pour the light in; I am so glad You have shown this thing to me while there is time to alter it. Now bring your dissecting knife, and cut it away, even if the roots go deep down into my very heart's core. I will have it out." Will you? Will you be made true, straight, clean? Will you be made Divine? Will you be filled with the pure, holy love of God towards God, and towards men, and all beings? That is what the Lord wants you to have. This is what He has sent His Son to do. No subterfuge; no make-believe work to get you into Heaven as you are; but He wants to make you as He wants you to be, and _He can do it._ The Great Physician is able, He is willing, He has got love enough, and power enough and grace enough to do it for you. Confide all your heart to Him. Will you have this Divine Charity wrought in you? It will make you willing to suffer, to endure hardness, and shame, and contempt, and persecution. It will make you willing to do anything that human nature can do, and endure anything that human nature can suffer, that you may accomplish the same purposes that He came to accomplish, that you may help onward the progress of His glorious kingdom. CHAPTER VI. CHARITY AND LONELINESS. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.-I COR. xiii. 13. _The possession of this Divine Charity often necessitates walking in a lonely path._ Not merely in opposition and persecution, but _alone_ in it, and here, again, Jesus, who was the personification of Divine lore, stands out as our great example. He was emphatically alone, and of the people there was none with Him. Even the disciples whom He had drawn nearest to Him, and to whom He had tried to communicate most of His thought and spirit, were so behind that He often had to reprove them, and lament their obtuseness and want of sympathy. In the greatness of His love He had to go forward into the darkness of Gethsemane. He was alone while they slept, and then through ribaldry, scorn, and sarcasm, to the cross. Alas! alas! almost alone, except a few--to their everlasting honor--poor faithful women--_alone!_ And, as it was with the Master, so it has been with all those whom God has called to go in advance of their race. It was so with John, and with Paul, and with most of the apostles, and with all those whom God has called to extraordinary paths since. Must John have a revelation of things shortly to come to pass? He must go alone into the Isle of Patmos! Must Paul hear unspeakable words, not, at that time, lawful for a man to utter? He must go alone into the third heaven, and not be allowed even to communicate what he saw and heard when he came down; alone, he must necessarily go in advance. And just so, when God has called some of His followers to an out-of-the-way path, they have had to go alone in an untrodden way. Superior love necessitates a lonely walk. You shrink, and say, "That seems so hard." Yes, I know; I wish I could make it easier, but I cannot help it. I simply state the fact, that superior love necessitates, in some measure, a lonely walk, because you see it is only they who--thus love, to whom the Lord tells His secrets. If you want to ask a confidential question and get a confidential answer, you must be on the bosom of your Master. You won't be able to do it at a distance. Then, you see, when He gives to any soul superior light to its fellows, and that soul _follows_ the light, it necessarily entails a path in advance of its fellows. Unless he can inspire and encourage them (which, alas! is hard work) to follow, he must go on alone. That was a beautiful illustration we read in the lesson (Acts x.). Here is Peter called to go in advance of the whole Church! Now, the Lord wants a man to do this, and whom does He choose? He chooses impulsive, energetic, head-first Peter. But then, there is something to be done first God lets down the sheet with all its unclean contents, and Peter fastens his eyes upon it. (I wish you had studied all the sheets the Lord has let down before _your eyes_, you would have come out very differently to what you have.) Peter studies them, and soon the Divine vision has absorbed Peter's attention. When the Lord has fairly got his attention, then comes the voice, "Now, Peter, rise, slay and eat." Then, when the Lord had taught him his lesson effectually, and when Peter saw that he had not yet explored all the ideas of the Divine mind about the extension of His kingdom, and that his business was to follow his Lord's directions, and not to have his own "ifs" and "buts," but go ahead and do as God bade him, then Peter goes on to carry out the Divine direction. Then the church, aghast, as usual, at anything new--always down upon a measure, whether good or bad, if it has the _awful quality of being new_--was down upon it. This new church, which had only just itself been brought to God by a set of _new measures_, is down upon Peter, and they call him to the council to answer for his conduct. He tells them all about it in the truthful simplicity of a man of God, and, thank God, they had sense enough--yes, and love enough, charity enough, to accept his explanations, and to glorify God. Would to God we could get as much sense and charity in these days! A lady writes to me, only the other day, of her husband, saying that he sympathises with outside work, but contends that there is everything one wants in the church; and another contends that there is everything everybody wants somewhere else, and so they are down upon all the Peters that dare to do anything out of the jog-trot line. You may reason ever so urgently, and show them that all these old measures are not enough for everybody, that there is a great mass of outlying population which they do not reach--the Gentiles of this generation; you may show them that these Gentiles are without the Holy Ghost, that they are not cleansed, that they are yet common and unclean; you may show them that these new measures of yours are quite as lawful as their old measures, and that, probably, they would be a great deal more useful, and, moreover, that they have been borne in upon you by the Holy Ghost, and that you feel as if there were a fire in your bones urging you to go and try them, but they will not hold their peace and glorify God, but will loose their tongues and villify you. False Charity looks more at the means than at the end. Its possessor is more concerned about what men will think of _him_, than what will exalt the Redeemer. You can know it by this mark. Are you more concerned about what your neighbor, Mr. So-and-So, or your minister, Rev. Mr. So-and-So, or even your bishop, thinks about you, than you are about the extension of the kingdom of Christ? Look out, my friend, yours is the wrong sort of Charity. True Charity looks at the end--the spread of righteousness in the earth--_the reign of the King_--and it is not very fastidious about the measures, so that they are lawful. I do not advocate anything unlawful, to do good--God forbid. Divine Charity says, "Anywhere with Jesus"--in the temple or outside of it--at the seaside or in Cheapside--on the mountain top or in the market place--in the streets--anywhere, Lord Jesus, if Thou wilt only come and take Thine inheritance and reign over the hearts and souls of men. True Charity is only too glad to become a Jew to the Jews, as weak to the weak, if it can only pick them up;--only too glad to descend to men of low estate, and put its arms round their necks, if it can only bring them to the cross and bring them back to the heart and Heaven of God; and it does not care what the Pharisee on the other side says; it is set on saving the poor sinner; it is pouring in oil and wine, and putting him on its own beast; _it is intent on saving him_, and does not care what anybody thinks. Have you got it? It is so good. It makes you feel so warm and comfortable inside. It is beautiful, and it proves better and better every day, and it will be better still when you are dying--Faith and Hope will be done away, but this love will last _forever!_ But this necessitates somebody leading the way--going on in advance. Will _you_ be content to go in advance? Will _you_ endure the hardness of a pioneer? Can you bear the ridicule and gibes of your fellow-men? Dare _you_ go where the Holy Ghost leads, and leave Him to look _after the consequences?_ If so, happy are you, and you shall have a harvest of precious souls; you shall shine as the stars forever; but, if you draw back, His soul shall have no pleasure in you. Step out on to the Divine love, that is able, alone amongst the breakers, to bear your little bark--able to make you _more_ than a conqueror. Oh, step out--follow, follow, follow--do not be afraid! _Spurious Charity_ is the opposite of this. It must have human notice. Ostentation is its very essence. Cease to notice it, and it will soon die. "I went about to establish mine own righteousness," says Paul, before he got the true Charity. Here was a grand opportunity for Pharisaic Saul. These Nazarenes, were they not everywhere spoken against? Was not this a grand opportunity for _him_ to be everywhere spoken for?--and so he takes advantage of public opinion, and becomes "exceedingly mad" against them; and, not satisfied with persecuting them in his own city, he goes after them into strange cities, but he reveals, afterwards, when he got the Divine Charity, that the mainspring of his zeal was SELF-GLORY. False Charity hates to be in a minority--you never find it in an unrespectable minority,--it wants company, and that of a respectable, genteel kind. Its possessors are always sticklers for the traditions of the elders; their horizon is bounded very largely by the opinions of men and the attitude of the _rulers_. They are always asking, "Have any of the rulers believed on Him?" Now, my friends, let this teach you wisdom and love. Prove all things before you condemn. I have no doubt Saul was an honest man, in the world's acceptation of the term, for he says he persecuted the Nazarenes ignorantly, thinking he was doing God service; but what a grand mistake he was making, and how effectually he was doing the _work of the devil!_ Of course, if he had _seen_, he was mistaken, he would have ceased to _be mistaken_. I wish people would stop and think that the path they are now standing in the well-beaten track on which they are now walking with such slow dignity--was one quite as new and unconventional and outrageous to the coadjutors of their forefathers, as the path which any new departure by the Holy Ghost may set before them _now_. I wish such people would read history. I suppose they do not, or, if they do, they read it as they do the Bible--they fail to draw any practical principle from it. Such people should read "Neale's History of the Puritans," and see in what a hurricane of excitement, opposition, contempt, and persecution, their forefathers fought for the very paths they are now _standing still in_, and holding so sacred that they cannot have them disturbed. Do you see how unphilosophically they are acting? If their forefathers had acted on the principles they are acting on, they would have stood still in old paths, and we would never have been in the new ones. These people stand in these paths of traditionalism and routinism, just where their forefathers left them, occupying all their time in admiring the wisdom and benevolence and devotion of their forefathers, instead of imitating _their aggressive faith_ and MARCHING ON TO THE CONQUEST OF THE WORLD. Which is the most God-honoring? Which has the most common sense in it? Which will please your forefathers the most? But it is now as it was in the days of the Son of Man--for, "ye build the tombs of the prophets, and garnish the sepulchres of the righteous, and say, 'If we had been in the days of our fathers, we would not have been partakers with them in the blood of the prophets.' Wherefore ye be witnesses unto yourselves, that ye are the children of them which killed the prophets." Alas! what a deal of this is going on to-day, only there is one difference--it is going on "under a Christian creed, instead of a Jewish." It is only the _creed_ that differs--the character, the spring of action, is the same. Now, my friends, try yourselves--which Charity _have you got?_ Do you rejoice in the extension of the kingdom of Jesus Christ by any lawful means, or are you more concerned _about the color of a man's coat than the state of his heart?_ Would you rather the poor drunkard were left to rot and seethe in his misery, than that a man should put on a blue jacket with an S.[Footnote: Badge of the Salvation Army.] on his collar, and go and fetch him out? Would you rather have men damned conventionally, than saved unconventionally? If you would, you are a Pharisee at heart--I care not what you call yourselves. Go home and read for your instruction Matt, xxiii. 23-28. Further, how bitterly this false Charity often comes out in individual cases. We will just take an illustration. We will suppose here is a family of decent, respectable, professedly Christian people, who have been to church or chapel most of their lives. Or here is a Church, we will suppose, of the same character--nothing particular has happened; they fear the Lord, and go comfortably along, and are just where they were ten or fifteen years ago, making up for _deaths_ and _removals_. We will suppose that a member of that family or that church, as the case may be, gets converted. He reads a book, goes to a special meeting, or some providential utterance is the means of sending the light of God's Spirit upon his soul, and he is quickened and woke up to see the miserable, half-dead, guilty condition in which he is; he is praying and groaning, and feeling after God; he gets the sense of his transgressions and unfaithfulness being taken away, and the joy of God's salvation restored to his soul. Now, in a moment, almost immediately, as in the case of Peter, as soon as the internal work is done, comes the external path opened up. The Spirit of God lays before him some new work, something strikes him which has been long forgotten, or which never seems to have been recognised in his family or church. He sees what a grand thing that would be for the conversion of souls, and the extension of the kingdom of Jesus Christ, and he feels it beginning to burn like a fire in his bones to enter this path of usefulness. He prays much over it, and he waits until he is fully satisfied that it is not a vain impulse, but that it is of the Spirit of God. Full of love, and faith, and zeal, he goes to tell his minister, or some Christian friend; he expects that they will sympathise with his feelings, and enter into his project; but, alas! alas! they begin by raising objections--they start difficulties:--"Well, but you see that would be a little out of our order: that is not exactly our way of doing things. I am afraid the deacons would object, or I am afraid something would happen;" and if he has the misfortune to be young (anybody would think it was a sin to be young), they will "crush" him out; they put the extinguisher on, and say, "Wait, my brother, until you have more experience," or, "my sister," especially, "_you_ must never presume to do anything of which we cannot approve!" Oh! friends, you smile because you _know_ how true it is! Oh, alas! the thousands of urgings of the Holy Ghost; the thousands of heavenly voices that have been as clear to human souls as ever Peter's sheet was to him; the thousands of glorious aspirations and schemes for the spread of the kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ that have been thus crushed by this spurious, false, selfish, devilish Charity! The Lord put it out. Oh! I would not care what the Lord called my child to do that would be for the extension of His kingdom and the glory of His name; I would not restrain her or keep her back. I might say, "My child, it may be a painful thing for me to consent. I might have chosen another path for you; but if you are satisfied the Spirit leads you, go forward, and I will do all I can to help you." Why? Because I want the King to have His own, and I do not care how it is, so that He gets His own, and I will have Him to use _mine_ as well as me to get it. Fathers and mothers, look out! If you grudge your children to God, He will be even with you. "They that honor Me, I will honor, but they who do not, shall be lightly esteemed." They shall get light weight all round, and be whipped with their own rods. Mind how you withhold that which is most precious from God! Mind you do not receive the grace of God in vain; _some people do_. The fifth point in which this Divine and spurious Charity contradict each other, is, that Divine Charity--the pure love of God--is _law abiding_. That is, it always manifests itself in harmony with the great moral law of the universe--it never does evil that good may come! You never hear it saying--"I cannot say that this is exactly square; I know this is not exactly the right course, but then I can accomplish such and such objects by adopting it." Never! that is of the devil! You may always know that the law of righteousness is entwined round the very heart of Divine Charity, and as justice and judgment are the habitation of the throne of its Divine Author, so righteousness is in the very core of its soul. It will never sacrifice righteousness for peace, or anything else. Now, what is the whole duty of man? To love mercy, to do justly, and walk humbly with God; and, when the Holy Spirit has brought about that result in your soul, God will look on you with a beneficent eye, with a smile of approbation, and its genial influence will sun your whole being, and you will walk in the light of it, even as the angels do in Heaven. "Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God;" that is the whole duty of man--everything is included in that. Do you hear it, oh! ye temporizers with Divine law? Do you hear it, ye who say that we must come down partly, and be a little like the world in order to win it? that you must come on to the level of the ungodly in order that you may win them to God?--I tell you that _all unrighteousness is sin!_ Do you hear this, you who contend for covering up by a false Charity certain sins which are sending men to perdition wholesale, and make laws and acts of parliament to protect men in these crimes? I know your specious arguments that come from the devil; but I ask, is it justice to take one part of the human race, and that the weaker, and, therefore, according to the law of Divine Charity, demanding the greater protection from cruelty and wrong, and offer that part up for the _supposed_ good of the other, because the latter is stronger? Is that justice? Is that mercy? and, mind, I say emphatically _supposed good_; for, do you think one part of God's creation can be trodden down without reacting with terrible moral force upon the other? Do you think it can? Was it ever done? Will it ever be done? _No! not while He sits on His throne_. Yes, _supposed_ good, for facts mock your arguments. It is not for their good; you know it is not. You cannot accomplish your purpose when you have done all; and think you that you will escape, by your satanic inventions, the Divine Executioner? Think you that your specious arguments will avail with Him who hath sworn in His holy habitation that He will avenge the oppressed and down-trodden of the earth? No, no! I see written between the lines, and I hear muttering between your speeches. "Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." You cannot escape the penalty! The last characteristic of true Charity which I shall name is, that _it holds out_, in spite of ingratitude, opposition, and persecution! Its possessor seeks the good of all men, not because he ought, merely, but because he cannot help it. His _heart_ is on the side of God and truth. He _loves_ righteousness, and, therefore, cannot desist from seeking to bring all beings to love it, too, although they hate and despise him for so doing. Jesus held out in this glorious love, even in the agonies of crucifixion. "Father, forgive them; they know not what they do." His heart was set on bringing man back to God, and He went through with it. His soul did not draw back, and His Divine love constrained Him, even onto death. Paul followed his Master in this respect; and though the more he loved some of his converts, the less he was loved, he went on, seeking their highest good, not being hindered for a moment by their ingratitude. He loved _them_--not their good opinion or applause! A spurious Charity soon tires when the objects of it prove unworthy. Its possessor says: "I have had enough of this; the kinder I am, the worse people treat me. I shall button up my pocket, and take my ease, till I am better appreciated." _Self_-glory is the very life of spurious Charity: it dies right out under ingratitude and contempt. Which have you got, my brother?--my sister? Does somebody say, as a man who had been to a service at Scarborough the other, day, and had been hearing some straight truth, said, when asked, "How did you like it?" The man, a young, prosperous tradesman in the town, shuffled about, and said: "Well, it was awful; if that is true, I am on my way to hell." Thank God he had found it out. Now, have you got this Divine Charity? I told you, at the beginning, it did not grow on unregenerate human nature, so if you are an unregenerate man, and have not the Holy Spirit, I want you to find it out. You have to begin at the beginning, and get the plant planted. No matter what spurious imitations you have got, if you have not got _the love of God_. Have you got it, brother?--sister? If you have not, you can have it this afternoon. Will you seek it? We were all once without it, even as it is said, "We were the children of wrath, even as others;" we hated those who hated us; we hated things, not because they were wicked, and against God, but because they were opposed to us personally; our love and hate were influenced by selfishness, the same as others, but now the Lord has renewed our hearts, and made us in some little measure, like Him who "loved righteousness, and hated iniquity; and, therefore, God anointed Him with the oil of gladness above His fellows." Oh! yes; the more you love righteousness and hate iniquity, the more of gladness you will have, and the more glorious the testimony you will give for God. You will be able to say, with David, "I have not hid Thy righteousness within my heart; I have declared Thy faithfulness and Thy salvation: I have not concealed Thy loving kindness and Thy truth from the great congregation." There will be no difficulty about declaring it. We find it easy to declare it when people get it. We cannot keep them quiet; they are like the early converts--they are up two or three together; and, like Paul, we have to say, "One at a time; you shall all prophecy, if you do it one at a time." When people get it, it bubbles up, and runs over; "it springs up," as out great Master said, "as a well of water, unto everlasting life." Many floods cannot quench it; it abideth forever. Have you got it? Have you got enough of it to lift you above your petty, selfish interests, or are you guided by the Charity that first looks inside to see how any proposition will affect _self_, instead of seeing how it will affect the kingdom of God? And you, poor sinner, who know you have not got it--I have more hope of you than some who profess to have it. His great bowels of compassion move towards you; He is waiting to shed abroad this love in your heart. The feast is spread; all things are now ready. Oh! come into His banqueting house, and sit under His banner of love for ever and ever. CHAPTER VII. CONDITIONS OF EFFECTUAL PRAYER. If ye abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ye shall ask what you will, and it shall be done unto you.--JOHN xv. 7. Therefore I say unto you, What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them.--MARK xi. 24. If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea, driven with the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive anything of the Lord.--JAMES i.5-7. Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. And He that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God.--ROMANS viii. 26,27. I have not taken the texts in the order in which they stand, but in the order in which they logically follow one another, and in which they elucidate the subject. And now, in the few remarks I wish to make, I shall try to embody answers to the letters I have received on this subject. There is no experience, perhaps, more common in these days than this, nothing more constantly said to me by professing Christians: "Well, I have prayed a long time for certain things, but I don't seem to get any answers to my prayers." I often wonder such people don't give up praying altogether I think I should if I never got answers. Now I say, this is a very God-dishonoring experience, and there must be something wrong somewhere when this is the case. There must be something wrong either with the suppliants or the Giver. Oh! I feel often what a deeply God-dishonoring thing it is when Christians meet, as they frequently do, up and down the country, to pray for a revival, to pray for a specific thing in their Churches and in their families, and it never comes. Some years ago, when the wave of revival was sweeping over Ireland and America, you know the Churches in this country held united prayer-meetings to pray that it might come to England; but it did not come, and the infidels wagged their heads, and wrote in their newspapers: "See, the Christians' God is either deaf or gone a-hunting, for they have had prayer-meetings all over the land for a revival, and it has not come." Oh! how my cheeks burned with shame as I thought of it; how I mourned over it! I knew it was not because our God was asleep --not because His arm was shortened--not because His bowels of compassion did not yearn over sinners--not because he could not have poured out His Spirit and have given us the same glorious times of refreshing they had in other places. _That was not the reason_. There was only one reason, and that was, that His people asked amiss. They did not understand the conditions of prevailing prayer. They did not fulfil them. If they had prayed till now, and maintained the same attitude, they would not have got the answer, because there are conditions to these promises, as to all other promises; and we may pray ourselves black and blue in the face if we do not comply with the conditions. God will never move an inch to meet us, and never fulfil the promises in our experience. May you, who are awake to perceive your responsibilities and obligations in respect to the perishing world, take heed to my words, and take home what I say--think about it, pray over it, try to realize it is the Lord's message to you. These are only a tithe of the glorious promises with respect to prayer. There are plenty of them in the Book, in which God has bound Himself to answer the faithful prayers of His people. "The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." Now, why is it that the great mass of professing Christians do not get answers to their prayers? In the first place, they are not the CHARACTERS to whom God has made the promises. These promises are made to God's saints--to those who keep His commandments, who walk in the light and have fellowship with Him through the Holy Spirit, and, therefore, the Spirit can make intercession for them. How can the Spirit make intercession for a man when He is not in him? Those who are walking in the light can see what sort of requests to put up, when to put them up, and how to put them up; they see it all, because they are _in the light_. Such people do ask, and receive. But, alas! it is because there are so few of these that God's character is traduced every day, and that infidels laugh at us and at our God, too. Now, do not go round about, and try to put this off you. Who are these promises made to? I challenge anybody to find me promises in this Book, taken with the context (except in the case of repenting sinners, who are a special class, and met with special promises), except to saints. There are no promises of answer to prayer, except to this class of character. These promises are not made to everybody, are they? The prayer of the wicked is an abomination to God, except it be his prayer when he is forsaking his wickedness. Then that prayer is not an abomination; but all other prayers of the wicked are. These promises are made to righteous people--to people who are: First, _in fellowship with God_. "If ye abide in Me, and My words abide in you;"--having been brought into living fellowship by a living faith, the promises are made to those people who MAINTAIN that union--who walk in it, who live in it, and who avail themselves of the opportunities and privileges which Jesus has bestowed upon them by virtue of that union. Now, you see, friends, it is not enough that you were _once_ in union with Jesus, in order to get answers to your prayers. I am afraid there are thousands in a backslidden state. They have let go the grasp of faith; they are not abiding in Christ; they are abiding _out of Him_, and yet they are constantly praying and wondering why God does not answer their prayers. Don't you see, the first condition is wanting. There is no possible way of approach to the Father but through the Son. All prayers are an abomination to God which do not go up to Him through His Son, and in His Son, except such as those of Cornelius, who never heard of Christ; but to people who have ever had the light and known His Son, no prayers while out of living union with His Son are accepted. And that does not mean saying, "For the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ." It does not matter much what people _say_. God never pays any attention to people's words; it is what they mean and feel that He pays attention to; and He knows when people really offer their prayers in union with His Son. They are not in union, and, therefore, their prayers never rise any higher than the room in which they offer them. They hardly get out of their mouths; God never hears them. They are drowned and buried in their own throats. Oh! you young converts, never drop out of living union with Jesus. Keep in it--hold it fast--walk in it, and you will get answers to your prayers every day. You will be as sure of it as if you saw God doing what you ask, and heard Him speaking to you. You will be able to say, "I know that Thou hearest me always." Bless His name! Those who abide in Him can say that in their measure. The next condition of prevailing prayer, is--_obedience to the light_. Now, what does it mean to walk in obedience? Well, it does _not_ mean, searching this New Testament to find out how little of God's grace will get you into Heaven! It does not mean, running round to see what this person says and the other person says about such and such a text, in order that you may escape from the real, practical meaning of the text! Such people are hypocrites at heart, whoever they are; or at least, insincere. They don't want to know God's will; they would much rather not know it. They want to get away from the plain, practical, common-sense meaning of the text, and then they say, "It doesn't mean exactly what it says," and "It should be interpreted so-and-so;" and they stroke themselves down, and try to make themselves feel comfortable when they are traitors at heart. _That is not walking in the light_. Walking in the light is like walking in the sun--not running behind a pillar there, and a tree yonder, to get away from the light. It is coming right out, and saying, "Now, Lord Jesus; I want to know Thy will. Lord, pour Thy light upon me. I am prepared to follow it, even though it is to the block and to the stake." First, desire to have the light. Oh! it makes my heart ache--I was going to say boil--with righteous indignation, in jealousy for God's honor, to think that He should be so traduced and blasphemed by those who profess to love Him--who try to make out that they get wrong for want of light. Nothing of the kind. Here is plenty of light; but you must say, "Yes, Lord, I am willing to have it, even if it condemns me. If it condemns my heart, my head, Lord, pour it on me. If it condemns my life, pour it on me. If it condemns those companions, those indulgences, pour it on me: I will give them up. If it condemns my business, pour it on me: I will abandon such business, and sooner die in the workhouse than continue in it. If it condemns my family relations, I will come out from them, and follow Thee." The Lord will always answer such a soul as that. He will put His finger down on this sore spot and the other, and He will tell you what to do, and you will be as sure of it as if you heard His audible voice. What does it mean to walk in the light? Obey His voice. Don't stop to confer with flesh and blood, but, as Paul did, get up, and set off to commence the career which your Master commands. Paul did not stop to confer with flesh and blood. He did not stop to reckon what it would cost him, but on he went, and never stops, until he reaches the block. _That_ is walking in the light--obeying--not standing, quibbling with the Lord about it; not saying, "Oh! but,"--but _doing_ it. Oh! friends, no matter who preaches another Gospel to you; no matter who comes with the doctrine that you can be accepted of God--be a saint on any other conditions. For Christ's sake and your soul's sake, don't believe them. As the apostle John says: "If there come any unto you, and bring not this doctrine, receive him not into _your_ house, neither bid him God speed." You say, "But then it is such a costly sacrifice." It is, in one sense; but when you have paid the price, when you have made the sacrifice, when you have entered upon the road, the joy, the light, the power, and the glory are worth a hundred times as much. Did any man that ever got the Pearl of great price feel that he had given too much for it, even if he had given all that he had? _Never!_ Martyrs and confessors have gloried in the possession of it while they have writhed on the rack and in the flames, and you never heard one solitary testimony that any man or woman of God ever thought that they had paid too highly for it. Never! Do you want to have your prayers answered? That is the way. Walk so that your own heart condemns you not. The obedient child that lives in complacent affection with its parent has no fear in coming up to ask for favors. It knows it will get them. Its own heart does not condemn it. "If our own heart condemn us not, _then_ have we confidence toward God." I defy any man to separate confidence and obedience. If you will not be obedient, you cannot have confidence. I challenge any Christian here to tell me that he can go up to the throne of God in faith for any blessing, when his own heart condemns him. He knows he cannot. HE HAS FIRST TO GET THAT STATE OF CONDEMNATION TAKEN AWAY before he can exercise faith for any blessing. Walk in the light, and then you shall have fellowship with Him, and His blood will cleanse you from all sin, and the Spirit will teach you how to pray, and what to pray for, which the great mass of professors know nothing about. Further, the _leading, teaching, and urging of the Holy Ghost_ is the next condition of effectual prayer. We might call these conditions a four-linked chain, connecting our souls with the very heart of God. First, fellowship with Jesus; second, obedience to His commands, walking in the light; third, the intercession of the indwelling Spirit; and fourth, the exercise of faith; and if you miss any one of these links, your prayers are done for. You may have all the other three, but if you miss one, you will not get answers. It will cut communion, and there will be no response. I am afraid a good many professors do not know what the Spirit of intercession means. They do not know anything about the Spirit making intercession for them with groanings that cannot be uttered. When we get more of this Spirit of intercessory prayer in parents, we shall see more spiritual children born. Now, the Holy Spirit says, here we know not what to pray for as we ought, unless the Spirit teaches; hence people are constantly, as James says, asking and not receiving, because they ask amiss. "Ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts"--that means, your earthly desires, affections, purposes, bound by the horizon of earth. Now, I believe that this is the great reason why thousands of Christians pray and never, get answers. They ARE SELFISH IN THEIR PRAYERS; they are earthy; they ask amiss, that they may consume it upon their earthly desires, affections, and propensities. Mothers tell me that they have prayed for their children for years, and not got one of them converted. I say, "More the pity; more the shame on you." Why? Because they prayed merely selfish, instinctive prayers, because they were _their_ children, or because they wanted them to be religions, so that they would not go into sin, or bring disgrace or misery upon the family, or it would be so nice to have them religious; but they don't want them to be righteous over much; they don't want them to be so given up to God as to cut off the vanities and fooleries of this world, and to give themselves up wholly to Christ--that is too much; but just religion enough to make them a comfort to themselves. Would _you_ answer such prayers _if you were God?_ Hundreds and thousands of prayers are put up every day that go no deeper and no higher than that, if the motives were analyzed--and the Holy Ghost _does analyze_. I am afraid many wives pray for their husbands on the same tack. They are not troubled that their husbands are living in disobedience to God, squandering their time, talents, and money, and robbing the kingdom of Jesus Christ of what they might be doing for it;--the agonizing consideration is, that, if religious, they would spend so much more time at home; that they are wasting the money, instead of laying it up for the children; and that, if they were religious, all this would be right. Now, I say, God will never answer that wife's prayer for her husband! You must think of what your husband could be for God--what he could do for God's kingdom--how Jesus Christ has shed His blood for him--how dishonoring a life of sin is to God; and you must dwell on this until your heart is ready to break, and you will soon get your husband converted, if you act wisely along with your prayers. God hates selfishness--selfishness is the devil, the very embodiment of him. You must get out of self; you must look at your child always as God's, as having a precious soul redeemed with the precious blood of Jesus, and having talents and capacities to _glorify Him_ and spread His kingdom; and you must ground your prayers on that, and say, "I would rather lay them in the grave, a thousand times--rather they were poor and despised--than they should grow up to _dishonor Thee_." Then you will get your prayers answered! People pray about their business. God sees that the way to destroy that man is to let him get on. He does not want money in order to roll the old chariot along. God sees that prosperity would eat his soul like a canker, and so He won't let him get on. The Spirit of God never leads the soul to a selfish prayer. No; it leads the soul to weep because men keep not His law, to cry more about His interests than its own. It is willing for its own house to lie desolate, if that will promote the spread of God's kingdom. It is willing for the sparrow to find a nest on its own altar, if by that it can replenish and glorify the altar of Jehovah. Then comes the last link--_faith_. Here is another secret. No believer can exercise faith for anything that the Holy Ghost does not lead him up to. You may pray, and pray, but you will never exercise faith until you have the Spirit making intercession in you. There is very little difficulty about believing with people who have taken the three preceding steps. Those who are in fellowship with Jesus, those who are walking in the light, those who have the Holy Ghost as an interceding Spirit--they know what to pray for; they know what the mind of the Spirit is; they know how the Spirit is leading them, and they can march up to the throne and "ask and receive." They know their request is according to the mind of God, and they can wrestle, if need be, like the Syrophenician woman, if He sees fit to try their faith. He does not always answer at once. He lets them wrestle with groans that cannot be uttered; but they know the Spirit is making intercession for them, and they hold on sometimes amidst great discouragement and temptation till the answer comes. They get the assurance of faith, which says, "Yes, it shall be done." People look at them with wonder. Christian friends know the thing they are praying for has not come, and say, "You look as glad as if yon had it;" "I have got the earnest: I know it is coming: I have the assurance that it shall be done." Now, every praying parent ought to wrestle till that is got for every child. You never ought to leave off till then, and then train as well as pray--co-work with God: that is the law of the kingdom, all the way through. Believe that ye receive it, and ye _shall_ have it. Oh! the confusion, the jumbling there is, in dealing with poor souls at that point. People say, "Believe you are saved, and you are saved." I have heard Christians give that advice to souls many a time. "Believe you are saved, and you are saved." Believe a lie, and it will come true. Is that God's philosophy? What is the use of telling a person to believe he is saved _before_ he is saved? That is telling him to believe a lie. People say, "Believe you are sanctified, and you are sanctified." Indeed! When were you sanctified? God never tells a person to believe a thing until it happens. He has made the bestowment of the gift to be simultaneous with the exercise of the faith. Believe that ye receive, and ye shall have--not that ye did receive an hour ago, for that would not be true; not that ye will receive an hour hence, for that would be presumption. There is no such promise, but believe that ye do now receive, and ye shall have. "I will never disappoint the man who dares trust me to that extent." He shall have it. You say the age of miracles is past. Yes, because the age of that sort of faith is past. You will get miracles back when that sort of faith returns. God has bound Himself over to the faith of His real people, and He would sooner break all the laws of nature, than He would break the laws of grace. He can easily set aside a law of nature; but He will never set aside a law of grace. He has bound Himself to faith--the only power in the universe to which He has bound Himself--and nobody ever rose up in this world yet, and said, "I trusted God, and He deceived me." Faith means TRUST--faith means ABANDONMENT--as if you were dying, and you had nothing left but the naked promise of God. You say, "I am dying: I must trust now," and that man jumps on to the promise. He gives up experimenting, and really trusts; and you have seen the light come into his eyes; you have heard the song of praise burst from his lips, because he believed he received, and he did receive. Now, then, some of you who have written to me, know you are living in fellowship with Jesus. Some of you have lately commenced to walk in the light. You have cut off and put away the idols; you have abandoned yourself to the will of God, and sworn, by His grace, that you will follow Him all the way. You _do_ feel the Holy Ghost is in you. Oh! I entreat you to obey fully, to let the Spirit have His way. Do not restrain Him. Don't think it will hurt your bodies: don't think it is too much; don't think you are getting fanatical; don't think that, after all, God does not require this kind of thing--follow the Spirit. Let the Spirit lead you, and groan through you; let the Spirit wrestle with God through you--follow Him. If we had more of this in these services, we should have more fruit; and if the church had more of this, there would be more souls born into the kingdom. It was one of the things in which I grieved the Spirit of God in my early days that I would not let Him, to the extent He would have done, make me a woman of prayer; and yet, in comparison with many, perhaps, I was one. He used to lay particular people and subjects on my heart, so that I could not help praying; but oh! how bitterly I have regretted and wept before the Lord that I did not let Him have all His way with me in this respect. Take warning! and you whom He is beginning to lead, let Him lead you. Pour out your souls for others and with others. I believe that more souls are convinced in real prayer, than in speaking. I have noticed this many a time. I have seen at the bottom of a great hall or theatre, or in the gallery, a lot of the roughest men conceivable, behaving in the most unseemly manner, arrested by the influence of prayer. Perhaps, when the rowdyism has been ready to break into open tumult, a little woman has stretched out her hands over the congregation, and said, "Now, let us pray;" and I have seen the whole mass of men assume an attitude of quietness and reverence. I have watched the aspect of the congregation, and seen great, rough, black-faced fellows get their heads down, and sometimes wipe their eyes; and when we have got up to sing, there has been no more disorderly conduct, but they have settled down with the solemnity of death, to listen. Hundreds of them were convinced of sin while under that prayer. It was the Holy Ghost wrestling for those souls in the heart of that woman, that struck them with conviction. Prayer is agony of soul--wrestling of the Spirit. You know how men and women deal with one another when they are in desperate earnestness for something to be done. That is prayer, whether it be to man or God; and when you get your heart influenced, and melted, and wrought up, and burdened by the Holy Ghost for souls, you will have power, and you will never pray but somebody will be convinced,--some poor soul's dark eyes will be opened, and spiritual life will commence. CHAPTER VIII. THE PERFECT HEART. For the eyes of the Lord ran to and fro throughout the whole earth, to shew Himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward Him--2 CHRON. xvi. 9. This passage occurs in the history of Asa, one of the most godly and devoted kings that ever sat upon the throne of Judah. We are told in the fourteenth chapter that he commenced his reign by setting himself to destroy the idolatry into which the whole nation had been betrayed by its former ruler, and to restore the worship and service of the God of Israel. He set himself to bring back the nation to its allegiance and obedience to God; and his success is a great encouragement to any who shall set themselves, single-handed and with a perfect heart, towards God, to do this in any circle, under any circumstances. _He succeeded_. God blessed him in his efforts to purge his kingdom inside, and God also delivered him from his enemies outside, and enabled him by His power to defeat the king of Ethiopia, who came against him with an exceeding great army, because King Asa was perfect in his heart towards God. When this king came up against him, Asa went and cried unto the Lord, and cast himself upon his God, trusting Him to deliver him, and God never disappointed any man, either before or since Asa's day, who did that. God delivered his enemies into his hand and made him a successful and happy king, over a prosperous and increasing people. But by-and-bye, after many years, for Asa was perfect in his heart towards the Lord for many years of his long reign; but whether it were, as, alas! too often happens, that a life of ease and prosperity brought forth in Asa the results of partial backsliding, we know not; but as years went on, another war was declared, and this time it was the king of Israel who came up against the king of Judah. What did Asa do? Did he go, as formerly, and cry unto the Lord, and put his battle into His hands? No, he did not. He had left His first love; he had become, in a measure, untrue to the Lord God of Israel. He forgot where his strength lay; his spiritual perceptions had become dim; he had lost his realization of God's ability to help and deliver him out of the hands of his enemies, and so he fell back upon worldly policy. He went down to Assyria and courted Ben-hadad, the king of Assyria, and said, "Come and help me, that my enemies may depart, for I am sore pressed." Ah! what a picture of backsliders. On another occasion, when Jehosophat made an ungodly alliance, a prophet met him and said, "Should'st thou help the ungodly, and love them that hate the Lord?" No man ever did this without being sorely whipped, as poor Asa was. He succeeded, indeed, in the battle, and won the victory. It was a lawful end, but he accomplished it by unlawful means. He won the victory, and, I dare say, he was congratulating himself, and stroking his beard in self-complacency, when, lo! the prophet comes to deliver God's message to him, and he says:-- "Because thou hast relied on the king of Syria, and not relied on the Lord thy God, therefore is the host of the king of Syria escaped out of thine hand. "Were not the Ethiopians and the Lubims a huge host, with very many chariots and horsemen? yet because thou didst rely on the Lord He delivered them into thine hand. "For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the earth, to show Himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect towards Him. Herein thou hast done foolishly; therefore from henceforth thou shalt have wars"--the very thing he went to Assyria to seek to avoid. He wanted _peace_, not war, and he went down to Assyria to enable him to spend the remainder of his days in peace, when, lo! the Word of God goes forth, "Thou shalt have wars." He was chastised in the very thing for which he sold himself and his God. "Be sure thy sin will find thee out." It is God's way to chastise His children by those very things in which they sell His interests. "Thou shalt have wars." But we want to deal specially with the lesson which the prophet draws from this event; for he says, "Wherefore didst thou go to Assyria? Wherefore hast thou sinned against God? Hast thou forgotten who the God of Israel was? Didst thou not know that the eyes of the Lord run throughout the whole earth?" He would have helped thee now, Asa, as much as in the past. He will help any man who is whole-hearted towards Him--that trusts in Him. Now, I say, this is the lesson which the prophet draws, not only for Asa, but for all the Asas since his day, and those who are yet to come, for every man and woman who professes to be a servant of God, the prophet sounds down to the ages that "the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect towards Him." Now, what is this perfect heart? "Ah!" you say, "that is the point." Yes, that is the point, and we will try to show what kind of a heart this is. It must be A DIFFERENT KIND OF HEART TO HEARTS IN GENERAL; all hearts are not perfect towards God, or else His eyes would not have to be running to and fro throughout the earth to find them. They would be plentiful enough if they were the common sort of hearts, but evidently they are a different kind of hearts to ordinary hearts; and another thing is evident on the face of the text, that these kind of hearts are very precious in the sight of God. He delights in them; He makes greater store by one such than He does by thousands of the other kinds of hearts, of which there are so many. I say, these two lessons everybody with common sense will admit at once--that these hearts are not the common hearts, and that they are very precious in the sight of God. Now, what is the meaning of this term "perfect heart," referring to the hearts of God's children, all the way through the Bible? As you know, I like to establish my points in the mouths of two or three witnesses, I will give you two or three texts, that we may find out God's meaning of this term, and then we will give you the very lowest rendering, where all schools are agreed, for I don't want controversy. We will just look at Psalm xxxvii. 37: "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace." There _are_ such people as God means in that verse. Psalm lxiv. 4: "That they may shoot in secret at the perfect," who have always been a favorite target of the devil. He does not shoot much at people whose hearts are perfect towards the Lord. It is at those perfect people he shoots. "Suddenly do they shoot at him," perhaps while he is thinking they are his friends. "Suddenly they shoot, and fear not." "Be ye perfect," says the Saviour, "even as your Father which is in Heaven is perfect." That means something. We will try to find out what it does mean (Matt. xix. 21)-- "Jesus said unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in Heaven: and come _and_ follow Me." And, again, at 1 Cor. ii. 6-- "Howbeit, we speak wisdom among them that are perfect." And (2 Timothy iii. 17)-- "That the man of God may he perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works." There are numbers of others, but these are samples, and I suppose all Christians attach _some_ meaning to these terms. They must be terms signifying a great difference between the persons who are spoken of and ordinary men and women. Now, what do they mean? Well, the very lowest rendering of all divines and all schools is this, that it means _sincerity_ and _thoroughness_. Well, that is all I want. Give me a man sincere and thorough in his love, and that is all I want; that will stretch through all the ramifications of his existence; it will go to the ends of his fingers and his toes, through his eyes, and through his tongue, to his wife, and to his family, to his shop, and to his business, and to his circle in the world. That is what I mean by _holiness_! Then, taking the lowest translation, it means that a man is whole-hearted in love, and thorough out-and-out in service! Amen. For that man who is thus perfect towards God, God will indeed show Himself strong in more ways than one! This cannot mean a merely natural heart, it must mean a renewed heart, because there are no perfect hearts by nature. There is no one in this sense that doeth good and sinneth not, for every child of Adam has gone astray like a lost sheep, has done the things he ought not, and left undone the things he ought to have done, and the whole world has become guilty before God. There are no naturally perfect hearts. It must mean, then, a heart renewed by the Holy Ghost, put right with God, and then kept right. A heart cannot be kept right until it has been _put right_, and that is the secret of the failure with some of you. You are trying to bring forth fruits before the tree is planted. You are looking for the fruits of a perfect heart before you have got one. You may well be disappointed. You must get your heart renewed, and then kept right by the power of the Holy Ghost. Then, what does this perfect heart imply? 1. _A heart perfect in its loyalty to God_, thoroughly given over to God's side, irrespective of consequences,--_loyal_. These are the hearts that God wants. This was the difference between David and Saul. There was not so much difference in the greater part of Saul's outward life, when compared with the life of David. It was only the prophet Samuel, perhaps, who knew the difference, and a few close observers; but the difference was, that David was loyal to God, and God calls him, for this reason, a man after His own heart. From the first calling of David from the sheepfolds, right to the end, with one or two exceptions, during the whole of his life, he was loyal to God, and, if you will carefully search his history, you will find that in all his wars, and all his dealings with the nations round about, and with the leaders of affairs in his own kingdom--in everything, David was loyal to God. It was the interests of God's kingdom that lay at David's heart--not his own honor, ease, or aggrandizement--not his own fame or riches, or building himself a house--it was the house of his God that was dear to his heart. He was loyal; whereas Saul was loyal only as far as it served his own purposes and interests. Oh! how many such Sauls there are in these days. When God's commandments went counter with his notions, he openly set God at naught, and did as he liked. He sacrificed God's interests to his own. He was unloyal at heart, hence he was a traitor, and never could learn the way of the Lord. He was never perfect towards the Lord his God, and, at last, God cast him off, and Samuel did also, and you know what his end was. Just the difference between the two--loyal and unloyal. A heart perfect towards God! What does it mean? It means-- 2. Perfect in its _obedience_. That man or woman who has this kind of a heart, ceases to pick and choose amongst the commandments of God, which he shall obey, and which he shall not--he ceases to have his own will, though sometimes he may have a struggle with his own will, and the way that God may call him to take may look to him as if it were a dangerous or risky way, and he may wait a little bit, to be thoroughly satisfied; but when once satisfied that it is God's way, the true child will not hesitate. He confers not with flesh and blood, but on he goes, irrespective of consequences. This was Paul's kind of obedience. He conferred not with flesh and blood; he counted all things dung and dross, and he went on doing so to the end--thorough in his obedience. People come to us and want to know what they are to do; they feel that they are only half-hearted in God's service; they have neither joy nor power, and say, "What must I do?" and we take, as God helps us, the dissecting knife, and try to find out the difficulty. We get them down under the blaze of the Holy Spirit's light, and try to probe them and find where they are wrong. Perhaps the Lord leads us to the sore spot, and we point out the difficulty, but, instead of obeying, they shrink away. They look ahead, and they see that to obey the light will involve loss of some kind--perhaps reputation, wealth, family associations, ease, or loss of friends, loss of temporal comforts, loss of good business. Loss is in the background, and they see it. They know where we are leading them to, and they slip back; they do not want to see, and yet they do not want to consider themselves dishonest, so they turn their heads away, and will not look in the direction of the light, smoothing it all over and singing-- "Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were an off'ring far too small," &c. That is not a perfect heart, but a partial heart towards the Lord God. The partial heart, so common, alas, now-a-days, wants to serve God a little. It is willing to go a little way with God, but not all the way; so that, taking the lowest interpretation, that is not a perfect heart towards the Lord. Can it be expected that the Lord should shew Himself strong in behalf of such people? Do you think you would if you were God? Suppose you were a king, and had a prince or statesman who was serving you very valiantly and devotedly while it served himself; but, suppose the tables were turned, and you were dethroned and cast away into exile, your name being bandied about the nation where you once reigned as king, in disgrace and dishonor; suppose this statesman gave you up, and said, "Oh! I am going to be on the side of the reigning monarch. I was very devoted to this man while he reigned, but I cannot afford to be devoted to him now his interests draggle in the dust; I must be on the winning side." What would you think of such a man? And if you were restored to your kingdom and power, would you show yourself strong on behalf of such a man? No; you would remember, as David did, the man who cursed you. But if you had a prince or statesman who followed you into exile, who ministered to you in secret, who tried to hold up your interests, who contended for your righteousness and justice, and held up your name and tried to make the people see that you were a good and true man, who held on to you, when all the nation was calling you traitor--if you came back to your throne, would you not show yourself strong in behalf of that man? Of course you would. The Lord says He will show Himself strong in behalf of those of such a heart towards Him. You masters here have a servant--a clever, smart man; you know how well he can serve you, and how valuable he can be, and would be if he were true; but you have reason to believe that he will only go with you as far as it will be for his own interests; he will serve you as far as he can serve himself, too, but, if he can get up by putting you down, you may lie there. What would you say to such a man? You would say, "I shall never show myself strong for him." So God is not likely to show Himself strong for people who are not of a perfect heart. A lady said to me, "I have been doing this and doing that for years, but I have no power; why don't I have it?" I said, "Because you are not true to God. He will give it to anybody who is true to Him, and He can see into your heart, and knows you are not." Why will He not show Himself strong in your behalf? _Because you do not show yourself thorough in His behalf._ The moment you show yourself thorough, that moment will He show Himself strong for you. If you had been in Daniel's place you would not have done as he did. Daniel was one of the perfect-hearted men; he served his God when he was in prosperity. He set his window open every day. Then his enemies persuaded the king to make a decree that no man should pray but to this king for so many days. "Now," they said, "we shall have him." But Daniel just did as he was wont, he went and prayed with his window open. You say, "That was demonstrative religion, that was courting opposition. What need was there for him to make this display; could he not have shut the window and gone into an inner room? That was just like you Salvation-Army people, you always make a demonstration. Why could he not have gone into an inner chamber and prayed?" Because he would be thorough for his God in adversity, in the face of his enemies, as he was in prosperity. So he went and prayed with open window to the God of Heaven, and because _He is_ the God of Heaven, He is able to take care of His own. His heart was perfect towards the Lord his God. 3. _This perfect heart is perfect in its trust_:--and, perhaps, that ought to have come first, for it is the very root of all. Oh, how beautiful Abraham was in the eyes of God; how God gloried over him. How do I know that Abraham had a perfect heart towards God? Because he trusted Him. No other proof--no less proof--would have been of any use. I dare say he was compassed with infirmities, had many erroneous views, manward and earthward, but his heart was perfect towards God. Do you think God would have failed in His promise to Abraham? Abraham trusted Him almost to the blood of Isaac, and God showed Himself strong in his behalf, and delivered him, and made him the father of the faithful; crowned him with everlasting honor, so that his name, from generation to generation, has been a pillar of strength to the Lord's people, and a crown of glory to his God. CHAPTER IX. HOW TO WORK FOR GOD WITH SUCCESS. Son, go work to-day in my vineyard.--MATT. xxi. 28. Compel them to come in, that my house may be filled.--LUKE xiv. 23. I am to speak of some needful qualifications for successful labor; and I say:-- First, that there are certain laws which govern success in the kingdom of grace as well as in the kingdom of nature, and you must study these laws, and adapt yourself to them. It would be in vain for the husbandman to scatter his seed over the unbroken ground or on pre-occupied soil. You must plough and harrow and put your seed in carefully, and in proper proportion, and at the right time, and then you must water and weed and wait for the harvest. And just so in Divine things. Oh! we shall find out, by-and-by, that the laws of the spiritual kingdom are quite as certain and unerring in their operation as the laws of the natural kingdom, and, perhaps, a great deal more so; but, through the blindness and obtuseness and unbelief of our hearts, we could not, or would not find them out. People get up and fluster about, and expect to be able to work for God without any thought or care or trouble. For the learning of earthly professions they will give years of labor and thought, but in work for God they do not seem to think it worth while to take the trouble to think and ponder, to plan and experiment, to try means, to pray and wrestle with God for wisdom. Oh! no: they will not be at the _trouble_. Then they fail, grow discouraged, and give up. Now, my friends, this is not the way to begin work for God. Begin as soon as you like--begin at once--but begin in the right way. Begin by praying much for Him to show you how, and to equip you for the work, and begin in a humble, submissive, teachable spirit. Study the New Testament with special reference to this, and you will be surprised how every page of it will give you increased light. You will see that God holds you absolutely responsible for every iota of capacity and influence He has given you, that He expects you to improve every moment of your time, every faculty of your being, every particle of your influence, and every penny of your money _for Him_. When you once get _this_ light, it will be a marvelous guide in all the other particulars and ramifications of your life. Study your plans. How men in earthly warfare study plans of stratagem, and adopt all manner of measures in order that they may take the enemy by surprise! But, alas! how little care and attention God's people give to taking souls; and yet it is _far harder work to take souls than it is to take cities_. How surprised I have often been at the assumption of people who, perhaps, never gave one hour's consecutive thought in their lives to the best means of doing certain work, and yet they will pronounce an opinion right off as to certain modes and measures which have been tried and proved successful in the lives of some of the most successful laborers for God. They will say, "Oh! I don't believe in it." "Oh! it is all nonsense, ridiculous, wrong!" while, perhaps, those people whom they condemn have been pleading, and weeping, and studying, and experimenting, and almost sacrificing their heart's blood to try to find out the best means of winning souls for Christ. I shall never forget the shock that came over me once in a large gathering of Christian people, when a gentleman, who occupied a somewhat prominent position, was giving out a hymn which contained a verse something about spending one hour in watching with Jesus. He stopped in the middle of this hymn, and said words to this effect: "I am afraid we are verily guilty here. I do not know that I dare say I ever watched one consecutive hour with Jesus in my life." I shall never forget it. My cheeks burned with shame. I said, "Oh! my God, if these are the leaders, we need not wonder at the people." A man occupying such a position to dare to say it! The Lord have mercy on him. No wonder the Lord's work is done in such a bungling way! I say those who want to be successful in winning souls require to watch not only days but nights. They want much of the Holy Ghost, for it is true still, "This kind can come forth by nothing, but by prayer and fasting." We have grown wiser than our Lord now-a-days; but, I tell you, it is the same old-fashioned way, and if you want to pour out living waters upon souls, either publicly or privately, you will have to drink largely at the fountain yourself, and have them very ready to let out! If you have not, your talk will be as sounding brass or tinkling cymbal. Oh! it makes my soul weep tears of blood to think of the misdirected effort that will be put forth this very Christian Sabbath. Plenty of labor, but how little comes of it?--all because it is cramped, and ruined, and misdirected, for want of thought, and prayer, and a single eye for the salvation of souls. May God rouse us up to this, and make us willing to think, and labor, and learn, and wrestle, and sacrifice, in order that we may do it. Then, further, the second qualification for successful labor is power to get the truth _home_ to the _heart_. Not to _deliver_ it! I wish the word had never been coined in connection with Christian work. "Deliver" it, indeed--_that_ is not in the Bible! No, no; not deliver it; but drive it home--send it in--make it _felt_. That is your work;--not merely to say it--not quietly and gently to put it before the people. Here is just the difference between a self-consuming, soul-burdened, Holy Ghost, successful ministry, and a careless, happy-go-lucky, easy sort of thing, that just rolls it out like a lesson, and goes home, holding itself in no way responsible for the consequences. Here is _all_ the difference, either in public or individual labor. God has made you responsible, not for delivering the truth, but for GETTING IT IN--getting it home, fixing it in the conscience as a red-hot iron, as a bolt, straight from His throne; and He has placed at your disposal the power to do it, and if you do not do it, _blood_ will be on your skirts! Oh! this genteel way of putting the truth! How God hates it! "If you please, dear friends, will you listen? If you please, will you be converted? Will you come to Jesus? or shall we read just this, that, and the other?"--no more like apostolic preaching than darkness is like light. God says, "GO AND DO IT: compel them to come in. That is your work. I have nothing to do with the measures by which you do it providing they are lawful." "Use just the same diligence, earnestness, and determination that you would if you were resolutely set on any human project, and always be sure that I will be with you to the end of the world. Never doubt My presence when you are set on My business. I will be with you, and I will succeed you." Do it--the Lord help us to get the truth home! This was the way with Paul, and this was the way with Jesus. Paul says: "Knowing, therefore, the terror of the Lord, we persuade men." Oh! what a beautiful insight this gives us into the ministry. Why do you persuade men, Paul? "Because I know the terror of the Lord that is coming on, and because we thus judge that, if One died for all, then were all dead. Therefore, I persuade men." He did not give up when he had put it before them. He carried them on his heart, and he says, "That by the space of three years I ceased not to warn every one night and day with tears." He wept it in, as well as drove it in, with his logic, and his eloquence, and with the power of the Holy Ghost in him. Make it go in--make your words felt; don't talk to them in that sickly, languid way that makes no impression--make them know it. If you have not enough of the Holy Ghost for this, go to your closet till you have, and then come and drive the Word home to their conscience as a two-edged sword, dividing asunder soul and spirit. The second thing indispensible to success is _simplicity_:--naturalness in putting the truth. You have not only to get it home, but, in order to do this, give it them simply and naturally. If I were asked to put into one word what I consider the greatest obstacle to the success of Divine Truth, even when uttered by sincere and real people, I should say, _stiffness_. It seems as if people, the moment they come to religion, assume a different tone, a different look, and manner--short, become unnatural. People sometimes come to me and say, "Oh! I would give the world to be natural, but I have got into this way of talking to people. It seems as though I cannot be natural. Can you help me?" I say, "Yes, I can help you, by this advice--Determine, by the help of God, that you will break the neck of this bondage. I will tell you how to begin. Begin with your family. Break off right in the middle of conversation on earthly matters, and begin to talk about their souls, or your own experience, or drop down on your knees, and begin to pray." "Oh! but it would be such a break." It should not be a break to talk to your Father. If you are in the spirit of it there will be no break. This will help you, more than anything else. Determine that you will overcome this sanctimoniousness, which is the curse of a great deal of the religion of this day. We want SANCTIFIED HUMANITY, not sanctimoniousness. You want to talk to your friends in the same way about religion, as you talk about earthly things. If a friend is in difficulties, and he comes to you, you do not begin talking in a circumlocutory manner about the general principles on which men can secure prosperity, and the sad mistakes of those who have not secured it; you come straight to the point, and, if you feel for him, you take him by the button-hole, or put your hand in his, and say, "My dear fellow, I am very sorry for you; is there any way in which I can help you?" If you have a friend afflicted with a fatal malady, and you see it, and he does not, you don't begin to descant on the power of disease and the way people may secure health, but you say, "My dear fellow, I am afraid this hacking cough is more serious than you think, and that flush on your cheek is a bad sign. I am afraid you are ill--let me counsel you to seek advice." That is the way people talk about earthly things. Now, do exactly so about spiritual things. If your friend is a spiritual bankrupt, tell him so. Tell him where he is going, and that the reckoning day is coming, and that he will be in God's prison-house very soon, and that, if the creditor once gets hold of him, and shuts him up, he will never get out till he has paid the uttermost farthing. If your friend has a spiritual disease, tell him so, and deal just as straight and earnestly with him as you would about his body. Tell him you are praying for him, and the very concern that he reads in your eyes, will wake him up, and he will begin to think it is time he was concerned about himself. Try to attain this simple, easy, natural way of appealing to people about their souls. I believe if all real Christians would attain this, and act upon it, this country would be shaken from end to end! Thirdly, you must be in _earnest--desperate_, I would like to say. And, indeed, friends, settle this as a truth, that you will never make any other soul realize the verities of eternal things, any further than you realize them yourself. You will beget in the soul of your hearer, exactly the degree of realization which the Spirit of God gives to you, and no more; therefore, if you are in a dreamy, cosy, half-asleep condition, you will only beget the same kind of realization in the souls who hear you. You must be wide awake, quick, alive, feeling deeply in sympathy with the truth you utter, or it will produce no result. Here is the reason why we have such a host of stillborn, sinewless, ricketty, powerless spiritual children. They are born of half-dead parents, a sort of sentimental religion, which does not take hold of the soul, which has no depth of earth, no grasp, no power in it, and the result is, a sickly crop of sentimental converts. Oh! the Lord give us a real robust, living, hardy Christianity, full of zeal and faith, which shall bring into the kingdom of God, lively, well-developed children, full of life and energy, instead of these poor, sentimental ghosts that are hopping around us. Oh! friends, we want this vivid realization ourselves. If we have it we shall beget it in others. Oh! get hold of God. Ask Him to baptize you with His Spirit "till the zeal of His house eats you up." This Spirit will burn His way through all obstacles of flesh and blood, of forms, proprieties, and respectabilities--of death, and rottenness of all descriptions! He will burn His way through, and produce living and telling results in the hearts of those to whom you speak. Earnestness--such earnestness that it comes to desperation--like that of Paul, who counted all things but dross; yea, and who counted not his life dear unto him. That was the secret. He counted not his life, nor anything that constitutes life--liberty, pleasure, enjoyment, friends, reputation, ease, &c.,--all on the altar, all was in the scale. He counted none of those dear unto him, so that he might win the perfection, the fulness of Christ in his own soul, and the salvation of the souls around him. Oh! what a LAUGHING-STOCK TO HELL is a light, frivolous, easy, lukewarm professor. Oh! what a shame and puzzle to the angels in Heaven, and what a supreme disgust to God. "I would thou wert cold or hot. So, then, because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of My mouth." Oh! what will that be? Talk about shame! Think of that! Shame! Some of you feel it going into the streets for God. You feel it when a few people see you kneel down here! Think of being spewed out of the mouth of God before an assembled universe. What will that be? God helping me, I will avoid that I will sooner hang with Jesus on the cross, between two thieves, than I will bear that shame. "_I would thou wert cold or hot!_" Some of you say, in your letters, that you will have this whole-heartedness. You say that you have given up all, and that you are consecrating yourself to a life of labor. Now, be _hot_. I know you will burn the fingers of the Pharisees. Never mind that. I know you will fire their consciences, like Samson's foxes did the corn. Never mind that. _Be hot._ God likes hot saints. Be determined that you will be hot. They will call you a fool: they did Paul. They will call you a fanatic, and say, "This fellow is a troubler of Israel"; but you must reply, "It is not I, but ye and your father's house, in that ye have forsaken the commandments of the Lord." Turn the charge upon them. Hot people are never a trouble to hot people. The hotter we are the nearer we get, and the more we love one another. It is the cold people that are troubled by the hot ones. The Lord help you to be HOT. Then another indispensable condition is the surrendering of _all our powers_. There must be no holding back. "Cursed be he that holdeth back his sword from blood." That curse is resting on Christendom to-day. Oh! they will thrust the sword a little way in, but they will not go in to the core. They dare not draw blood--the soldiers of this age--for their lives. They dare not touch a man to the quick, because, alas! they are looking to themselves, and thinking what people will say of THEM, instead of what God will say of them. You must not be afraid of blood if you are to be a true warrior of the Lord Jesus Christ. You must not be afraid to say, if need be, "Oh! generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come? "You must not be afraid to say, if need be, "You have made my Father's house a den of thieves," if you save some of them by doing it. Oh! this accursed sycophancy; I was going to say, this accursed fear to brave the censure of the world--this accursed making good evil and evil good, as if God were altogether such an one as ourselves. Don't you think He sees through the vile sham? Oh! my friends, if we don't mend in this respect, He will come in judgment before long, and we shall find out then the difference between the precious and the vile, if we do not find out before. If you want to be a successful worker, you must make up your minds to begin with, that you will be CRUCIFIED. As a dear minister once said to somebody, when he was arguing with him about being so hard in the pulpit, "I don't care." "Oh!" said the other, "Don't you know what became of 'Don't care?'" "Yes," he said, "He was crucified, and I am ready to be crucified alongside of him." When you are in the right, don't care. You can but be crucified, and it will soon be over; and then the Book says, "They that suffer with Him will also reign with Him, and they shall be glorified together." It would be a wonderful thing to be glorified alone, but, oh, think of being glorified together! A gentleman said lately, "I have been thinking a great deal about the glory. It is a wonderful thing--that glory that is to follow. This would be worth a man sitting on the dunghill all his life to obtain." I looked at him, and thought, perhaps you are nearer to it than you think, and perhaps I am, too. Ah! it _is_ a wonderful thing, that glory that is to follow. Then let us be willing to suffer with Him and for Him. Make up your mind to be crucified at the start, and then it will be easy. Further, _complete abandonment_ is a condition of successful labor. It is so in anything. What would you think of a soldier who was always reckoning how much it was to cost, and when he should get back, or whether it was worth the sacrifice? You would say, "He is of no use to the British Army. We want men who will go in to win at all costs." Now, God wants men and women who will go in to win, who believe in winning, who know they have the power to win, and who count _all things_ loss in comparison to winning. Do you want success? If you do not come to that first, you will never get it. Fourthly--_You must give up, kick out of the way, trample underfoot, all that hinders._ _Reputation_. Perhaps there are some ministers here. There were some last Sunday, and there were some the Sunday before. Some of you have written and others have talked to me. You say, "It would be such an entire breaking from one's circle." Exactly. Some say, "You see, the inevitable consequences of setting up this high standard would be a constant running of the sword into some of your best hearers and your best friends." Exactly; that is giving your sword to blood. You would not think much of drawing the blood of an enemy--it is the blood of your _friends_ that is the test! I know all about it; I have been there. I was there a long while once. It was my own sore spot. The devil said, "If you begin preaching they will call you an impudent woman," and I felt it would be better almost to go to hell than have that said about me. He said, "They will put you in the newspapers, and say all manner of coarse and vulgar things about you;" and God only knows what that was to my soul; but I battled and struggled with it for a long while, until I said, at last, "Lord, I don't care what they call me--I give myself to Thee to win souls." Have I ever regretted it? Shall I ever regret it? No; He will take care of your reputation. Give it up to Him, my brother. The Scribes and the Pharisees never had anything good to say of Jesus coming in the flesh. Give up your reputation--follow Him. If it must be, decide to go after Him to Gethsemane, to Golgotha and the cross. Never mind--follow Him. Give up your reputation. Then, your habits. How ashamed some of you will be who have made the mere Paris-born frivolities of society stand in the way of your consecration to Christ; and yet people who do this say they are Christians. I don't know; I cannot believe it. There is drinking; they will have a glass of wine. Very well, you can have it; but you shall not have the wine of the kingdom. Professors will dress like the prostitute of Paris. Very well; but they shall not be the bride of the Lamb. He will not walk in the streets with them, nor sit at the same table. You can go to parties where it is said there are only religious people, but where you know all manner of gossip and Christless chit-chat is going on, which you would be awfully ashamed the Master should hear, and from which you retire with no appetite for prayer. You can go to all this, but I defy you to have the Holy Ghost at the same time. I won't stop to argue it; I ONLY KNOW YOU CANNOT DO IT. All that will have to be put aside and given up. You say, "That is a sore point." Yes; I know that is driving the sword to blood. Fifthly.--You must consecrate your money to be used for God. I once heard an old veteran saint say, and I thought it was extravagant at the time, "I consider the use of money the surest test of a man's character." I thought, no, surely his use of his wife and children is a surer test than that; but I have lived to believe his sentiment. Hence, you see how human experience justifies Divine wisdom--"the love of money is the root of all evil". So it is, in one form or other. God never uses anybody largely until they have given up their money. I simply state a fact. We know it is so by experience and the history of God's people. You must give up your money as an end: saving it for its own sake, or the gratification of your selfish purposes or those of your children--it must be all given to God, to whom it belongs, being entirely used in His service. If you want to be a successful laborer for souls, you will have to do that at the threshhold. Give up your money to the Lord. If you think it right to keep some of it, keep it to use it for Him as you go; and be as strict with yourself, to your Heavenly Father, as you would be with your secretary or clerk to yourself, and then you will be all right. It is a narrow and difficult path. I tremble for you who have got it, and I am glad I have not; but as you have got it, I give you the best advice I know. It is an awful thing to have it, but the next best thing is to consecrate it and use it to His glory; and if you do not, it will eat into your soul as doth a canker. To your spiritual nature it will be as a cancer is to your physical nature. They are Paul's words, not mine. I must say a word about _the reward_. You think I am always driving you _to do_. Yes, because you need it. The Lord knows I do not find you do any too much. Some of you I am heartily ashamed of. Some of you need driving so that you ought to thank God for the rod. Paul says, "Shall I come unto you with the rod?" He was obliged to do it with some people. It is not an enviable thing to have to do; but we dare not, when God sets us work to do, shirk it; but there is a bright side--there is the reward. "What!" you say, "does He pay you?" Yes, good wages--pressed down--heaped together! He says, "The man who remembereth the poor (do you think He means only their bodies?), I will remember him; I will make his bed (what a tender allusion!) in his sickness." He will shake it up; spread His feathers on the pillows as no earthly nurse, not even the tenderest wife, can do. "I will make his bed in his sickness." You will want Him then, brother! You are very independent, some of you, now, but you will want Him then. "I will make his bed in sickness. I will put underneath Him my everlasting arms." He will cause you to triumph in the swellings of Jordan. That will be grand, will it not? He will give you a triumphant entrance into His kingdom, those of you who have gone out in loving solicitude and anxious sympathy to labor for the souls of your fellow-men. He will administer unto you an abundant entrance, and then--what? He will give you CHILDREN; and the barren woman shall have more children than she that hath a husband. Oh! the whole world is akin here. Every man and woman wants children. They are especially a heritage from the Lord. Nothing can make up for the want of children. The poorest parents, living in the humblest hut, would not sell you their children, and the rich man, who has twenty thousand a year, would give it for a son or for a daughter, when he cannot have one. All human beings want children. Now, then, the Lord will give you children. A mother--even a sanctified mother--I suppose, cannot help feeling proud, or, rather, glad and thankful, when she shows good, obedient, and godly children to her friends. I do not believe that God wants to grind this out of us. I believe He delights in it Himself, just as He delighted to show His servant Job to the devil. "Hast thou considered My servant Job?" Ah! was He not proud of him?--and He has been proud of him ever since. God has put this feeling in us, and it is a right feeling when it is sanctified. We cannot help but be proud of godly and obedient children; but what will it be to show your spiritual children, to the angels? How shall you feel when you gather the spiritual family which God has given you round the throne of your Saviour, and say, "Here am I and the children whom Thou hast given me"?--the children won through conflict, and trial, and strife, such as only God knew; "Children begotten in bonds," as Paul says--chains--children born in the midst of the hurricane of spiritual conflict, travail, and suffering, and cradled, rocked, fed, nurtured, and brought up at infinite cost and rack of brain, and heart, and soul; but now, here we are, Lord. We are here through it all. "Here am I and the children whom Thou hast given me." How shall you feel? Shall you be sorry for the trouble? Shall you regret the sacrifice? Shall you murmur at the way He has led you? Shall you think He might have made it a little easier, as you are sometimes tempted to do now? Oh! no, no!--THE CHILDREN! THE CHILDREN! you shall have children! Won't that be reward enough? Oh! sometimes, when I am passing through conflict, and trial, in connection with a work which brings plenty of it behind the scenes, I encourage myself in the Lord, and remember those who have gone home sending me their salutations, from the verge of the river, telling me they will wait and look out for me, and be the first to hand me to the Saviour when I get there. Will not this be reward enough? Even so, Lord. Amen. CHAPTER X. ENTHUSIASM AND FULL SALVATION. AN ADDRESS DELIVERED IN EXETER HALL. Why should we be enthusiastic in everything but religion? Can you give me any reason for that? If there is any subject calculated to move our souls to their very centres, and to call out the enthusiasm of our nature, surely it is religion, if it be the real thing. Why should we not be enthusiastic? I have never seen a good reason yet. Why should we not shout and sing the praises of our King, as we expect to do it in glory? Why should not a man cry out, and groan, and be in anguish of soul, as the Psalmist says, as if he were crying out of the belly of hell, when he is convinced of sin, and realizes his danger, and is expecting, unless God have mercy, to be damned? Why should he not roar for the disquietude of his spirit as much as David did? Is there anything unphilosophical in it? Is there anything contrary to the laws of mind in it? Is there anything that you would not allow under any great pressure of calamity, or realization of danger, or grief? Why should we not have this demonstration in soul matters? They had it under the old dispensation. We read, again and again, that when the people came together after a time of relapse, and backsliding, and infidelity, when God sent some flaming, burning prophet amongst them, and they were gathered on the sides of Carmel or elsewhere, that, on some occasions, the weeping, and, on other occasions, the rejoicing, was so great that they made the very ground tremble, and almost rent the heavens with the sound of their crying and rejoicing. We are told, on one occasion, that the noise was heard afar off, and, on another, that it was as the sound of many waters. Would to God we could get men, now-a-days, so concerned about their sins and their souls, that they should thus cry out. It would be a happy day for religion and for the world if it were so. If these things are realities, I contend that this is the most sane, rational, and philosophical way of dealing with them; and I say that the ordinary, cold, heartless, formal way (and, if it is not so, it has that appearance) is unscriptural. Somebody was talking to me about having so much feeling in religion. I said, "My dear friend, what do you think God gave you feeling for?" Some people seem to think it a mistake that we _have_ feelings. Our feelings play a very important part in all our social relations. Why would you exclude them from religion? David expressed his feelings, and was so carried away by them that he called on all creation to praise the Lord, the hills and the trees to clap their hands and be glad. Get the right kind of religion, and it will make you glad. If you have not the right kind of feeling, I am afraid you. have not the right kind of religion. We have some enthusiasm, and when our enthusiasm dies, I am afraid we shall die, too. Nevertheless, our power is not in our enthusiasm; neither does it consist in certain views of truth, or in certain feelings _about_ truth. But it consists in whole-hearted, thorough, out-and-out surrender to God; and that, with or without feeling, is the right thing, and _that_ is the secret of our power. We have glorious feelings as the outcome; but the feeling is not the religion--the feeling is not the holiness. Holiness is the spring and source of the enthusiasm. Hence our power with the masses of the people. How is it that wherever we go, as an organization, these signs and wonders are wrought? Somebody said, "It is a strange thing; see what has been done at So-and-so, and So-and-so, and So-and-so. They had all tried, and you send a couple of lads or lasses, and you have the town in an uproar at once. What is it? What is the secret? Will you answer the question?" Well, it is the whole-hearted, determined abandonment of everything for the King's sake. That is it. It is going in, as the Apostles went in, determined to win souls, determined to set up the kingdom of Jesus Christ, at all costs. That is the source of our power, and if you get that, you will have power, and if you don't get that, it matters not what else you have. I want you reasonably and calmly to see that this holiness is a real, definite blessing; that it is a level on to which the great mass of the professing Christians of this generation have not come, or even scarcely looked up. It is a high level, but it is a level on to which every one of you can come, if you will. You have heard enough about it. You are convinced you may have it. Will you have it? The Lord is sitting there; He is looking at you, and He is saying, "What is all this stir about? What is all this talk, this singing, and this praying about? Here I am. What do you want Me to do? I am ready to do it." And you say, "Lord, I want Thee to cleanse my heart from sin, and to fill me with the Holy Ghost, and to enable me to be whole-hearted and thorough in Thy service, and to go and win souls for Thee." "Very well," the Lord says, "I am ready to come into the temple, if you will clear out the rubbish. Are you willing for Me to come in? I am waiting to come in as a Refiner; but you must make a straight way for my feet. You must pick out the stones, and throw out the rubbish, and make Me a straight path." Will you make Him a straight path? Will you trample under foot that accursed thing which has so long kept the fulness of the blessing from you? Will you give up arguing about it and trying to make out that it is not a stumbling-block, when you know it is? How many will? I wish we had room to have a form. I am sorry we have not. With all the light you have on the subject, with what I am sure the Holy Ghost has revealed and is revealing to your souls, with all the glory that He is putting before you, and the power for usefulness and happiness, will you make this full consecration? The light of the Spirit is on you: _will you, act? Will you act?_ Every spark of light you get without obeying it, leaves your soul darker. Every time you come up to the verge of the kingdom and don't go over, the less the probability that you ever will. I know people who have been going up and down for more than forty years, like the Israelites, and it is a question if they ever go in. You have come near again. Will you go over? You can tell the Lord without telling us, though we would like to know, and see you put your foot over the border, into this Canaan of peace and power. Will you put your foot over? Who will? who will? Will you stand up and raise your voices to the Lord and ask Him? CHAPTER XI. HINDRANCES TO HOLINESS. I shall try, in the short time I may occupy, to go straight to the point--to some of the difficulties and hindrances which I know are keeping not a few here to-day out of the enjoyment of the blessing. I know there are some here who are satisfied that this blessing is attainable, who are satisfied that God can thus keep them, as we have been singing, if they were to lean the whole weight of their need--their soul, and body, and spirit--upon Him, and trust Him. They believe He could, and they believe He would. They have come to perceive that it is not at all a question of human strength, or human weakness, or human knowledge, but that it is simply a matter of Divine strength, fully recognized and fully trusted by human weakness. Therefore, there is no more a stumbling-block in their way about reckoning themselves holier than other people, or stronger than other people, for they recognize themselves as the very weakest and most sinful of _all_ people: but they have come to understand this blessing to be human weakness, leaning with all its weight upon Divine power; and they believe God does thus save and keep those people who do thus lean. Then, what hinders? There they stand, just where the Israelites stood, when they might have gone in and possessed the good land. "They entered not in because of unbelief," and for that unbelief there is a reason--a cause. They dare not venture their souls on this Divine power, because there is back in their consciousness some difficulty, some obstacle, something which is only known to themselves and the Holy Ghost, which prevents them from doing this. When they try to jump on to the Divine strength there is something that holds them back, and they cannot make the spring. They try to forget it--they sing, and pray, and seek, to make themselves believe there is nothing, and they come up again and again right to the entrance of the goodly land, and then they try to spring in. Some of you will today, but you will not be able to spring, because there is something holding you back; and you are conscious of it, but will not allow yourselves to realize it. Now this is the point, when my dear husband read that passage, "When they had prayed, the place was shaken," I thought, Oh! what was involved in that prayer--what does that mean? _Why_ did the glory come? Why did the Holy Ghost overshadow them? Why were they filled with God--so filled that they had to go down and could not help themselves, but went into the streets and poured it out upon the godless multitudes around them? _Why, why_ did it come? Why do hundreds of assemblies of God's people meet and pray, but nothing comes? They hold long meetings, and make long prayers, and sing, "We are waiting for the fire;" but nothing comes! Why did it come on that particular occasion? Because in that prayer was thorough, entire, everlasting self-abandonment. They came up caring for nothing but pleasing God and doing as He bade them; and the Holy Ghost alone knows when a soul arrives at that point. He will never come till the soul _does_ arrive at that point. This is the deficiency, I am satisfied, with hundreds. There they stand, right on the borders of the glory-land, but there is some wedge of gold, or Babylonish garment that they buried years ago. They won't think about it. They say, "Oh, it is nought, nought! That little thing would not hinder, it is so long ago." They would not, when they knew they ought, dig it up and burn it before the Lord. If this is so with any here, you _must_ dig it up, or the Holy Ghost will never come. A lady, a short time ago, was brought up to the very edge of this blessing, but there was something she felt she ought to do. She had a sum of money which she felt ought to be given up to a certain object. She prayed and struggled, and attended prayer-meetings, and prayed long into the night; but, no, she would not face the difficulty. She said, "Oh! no; I am not satisfied in my own mind. How do I know God wants it for that purpose?" She might have struggled till now if she had not made up her mind to obey; but, the moment she did--alone, up in her bedroom, the blessing came. A gentleman came up to the penitent-form, after one of my West-end services, last season, and told me: "I am a preacher. I have been laboring in the Gospel for eight years, but I know I am utterly destitute of this power." "Do you want it?" "Oh!" he said, "I do;" and he looked as though he were sincere. "Then," I said, "what is it? There is a hindrance. It is not God's fault. He wants you to have it He is as willing to give you the Spirit as He was Peter or Paul, and you want to have it. Now, _will you have it?_ Have you understood the conditions?" "Ah!" he said, "_that_ is the point." Now, you know I should be a false comforter if I were to try to make you believe you were right when you had not yielded that point. "Well," he said, "you see it would be cutting loose from one's entire circle." Ah! he was led, you see, by "Christian friends." I said, "Did not the Lord Jesus cut loose from His circle to save you? and, if your Christian friends are such that to live a holy life you must cut loose from them, what are you going to do--stop in that circle, ruin your own soul, and help to ruin them, or cut loose and help to save them?" Oh! there is no profounder philosophy in any text in the Bible than that--"How can ye believe who receive honor one of another, and seek not the honor that cometh from God only?" You will have to come to God not caring what anybody thinks. As a dear lady, who is going through floods of persecution for Jesus, said, "I don't care if they turn their backs on me, and never speak to me any more, and cast me out, and my children, too. I don't care if I can only have His presence and follow Him." When you come to that you will get this pearl. I know a father and mother who want this blessing,--especially the mother. They have a family of beautiful little children, but the father says, "What are we going to do for our children? It is a very serious matter cutting loose from our circle." A gentleman said to me, "I have to do _something_ for my sons. What am I to do?" "No," I said, "you have got to do nothing for your sons. You have to train them for God, and leave GOD _to do for them_, and He is well able to look after His own. That is your business; train them for God, and leave God to find a niche for them, and if He can't on earth, I warrant you He will in Heaven." People have things wrong way up now-a-days. They have the notion that they have to do this, that, and the other, for themselves and their children, instead of accepting it as their great commission that they have to propagate and push along and extend the kingdom of Jesus Christ, to seek His kingdom and His righteousness, and leave Him to look after their interests. When you come to this it will soon be done. A FRAGMENT. Love Him, trust Him, Him alone; Father, Keeper, Three in One. Saviour, Master, Leader, too; Lover, Brother, ALL to you. Fear not, care not, Only follow His way, this day, And to-morrow. Waiting, working, For His sake; Watching, hoping, Till daybreak. Peaceful, joyful, In His peace; Filled full, kept full, By His grace. CHAPTER XII. ADDRESSES ON HOLINESS, IN EXETER HALL. FIRST ADDRESS. I think it must be self-evident to everyone present that it is _the most important question_ that can possibly occupy the mind of man--how much like God we can be--how near to God we can come on earth preparatory to our being perfectly like Him, and living, as it were, in His very heart for ever and ever in Heaven. Anyone who has any measure of the Spirit of God, must perceive that this is the most important question on which we can concentrate our thoughts; and the mystery of mysteries to me is, how anyone, with any measure of the Spirit of God, can help looking at this blessing of holiness, and saying, "Well, even if it does seem too great for attainment on earth, it is very beautiful and very blessed. I wish I could attain it." That, it seems to me, must be the attitude of every person who has the Spirit of God--that he should hunger and thirst after it, and feel that he shall never be satisfied till he wakes up in the lovely likeness of his Saviour. And yet, alas! we do not find it so. In a great many instances, the very first thing professing Christians do, is to resist and reject this doctrine of holiness as if it were the most foul thing on earth. I heard a gentleman saying, a few days ago--a leader in one circle of religion--that for anybody to talk about being holy, showed that they knew nothing of themselves, and nothing of Jesus Christ. I said, "Oh, my God! it has come to something if holiness and Jesus Christ are at the antipodes of each other. I thought He was the centre and fountain of holiness. I thought it was in Him only we could get any holiness, and through Him that holiness could be wrought in us." But this poor man thought this idea to be absurd. May God speak for Himself! Ever since I heard that sentiment I have been crying from the depths of my soul, "Lord, speak for Thyself; powerfully work on the hearts of Thy people and awake them. Take the veil from their eyes, and show them what Thy purpose in Christ Jesus concerning them _is_. Do not let them be bewildered and miss the mark; do not leave them, but Lord, reveal it in their hearts." There is no other way by which it can be revealed, and, if you will let Him, He will reveal it in your heart. It occurred to me that I might say a word or two on what my husband said about infirmities, because I am so continually meeting people who _will make infirmities sins_. They insist upon it that the requirements of the Adamic law have never been abated; that we are not under the evangelical law of love, or the law of Christ, as the Apostle puts it, but that we are still under the Adamic law, and that these imperfections and infirmities, to which my husband has referred, are sins. I wonder that such people do not think of a certain passage, which must forever explode such a theory, where the Apostle says, "Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." If these infirmities had been sins, we should have the outrageous anomaly of an apostle of Jesus Christ glorying in his sins! You see, his infirmities were only those defects of mind and body which were capable of being overcome and overruled by grace, to the glory of Christ and to the furtherance of His kingdom. I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me --that, in consequence of these very infirmities, the power of Christ shall so rest upon me as to lift me above them, make me independent of them, master of them, so that, through these very infirmities, I shall more glorify His strength and grace than if I were a perfect man, in mind and body. In another place he says, "And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan, to buffet me." Some people think this was _sin_; but surely, the words, "messenger of Satan," show that this thorn was no act or disposition of Paul's, but some external temptation or affliction, inflicted by Satan. Besides, the Divine assurance, "My grace is sufficient for thee," _ought_ to forbid the idea of sin. Paul sought the Lord thrice to have this thorn removed; surely if it had been _sin_, the Lord would, have been as anxious to have it removed as His servant was! This thorn was, doubtless, some physical trial--as the words, "in the flesh," indicate--some tribulation or sorrow, through the patient endurance of which the strength of Christ could be magnified in Paul's weakness--one of those things which he could bear "through Christ who strengthened him." But mark, this was a Divinely-permitted discipline to _prevent Paul_ from falling into sin; quite a different thing to sin itself. "God tempteth no man with evil." The Lord sent this to Paul for the purpose _not of making_ him humble, for he was humbled before, but of keeping him humble. And does He not send something to us all? Do we not need trials and tribulations in the flesh in order to keep us humble? But is this evidence that, because we require these things to keep us humble, therefore pride is dwelling in us and reigning over us? It is an evidence just to the contrary. Oh, that people, in their enquiries about this blessing of holiness, would keep this one thing before their minds, that it is _being saved from sin_!--sin in act, in purpose, in thought! I have a beautiful letter, received a short time ago from a young lady, who wrote me soon after my former services in the West End. She told me that she had been the bondslave, I think, for four or five years, of a certain besetting sin, and her first letter was the very utterance of despair. She had struggled and wrestled and prayed, and tried to overcome the sin that had been reigning over her. Now and then she would get the victory, and then down she went again, and she said, "It is such a subtle thing, connected with my thoughts and imagination, so that I do not think I ever can be saved." I answered the letter, and tried to encourage her faith and hope in Jesus Christ. I showed her how dishonoring this unbelief was, and that, if she would only trust Him to come in and reign in her heart, He could purify and cleanse the very thoughts and imagination. She made a little advance, and wrote me another letter. I wrote her again, and encouraged her to trust further. She said she could not come so far as to think that He could purify her thoughts. She had got as far as to believe that He could save her from putting them into practice, but she could not believe that He could purify _them_. I wrote her back once more, and tried, the Lord helping me, to show her how Jesus, by the inspiration of His Holy Spirit, could purify the very thoughts of our hearts, and, thank God, she did go another step. I have had two letters from her since. She said in the first of them, "I rejoice with trembling, for fear it should be only temporary, but I have trusted Him to purify the source, and I must say HE HAS DONE IT, and, instead of thinking these thoughts, I have holy thoughts, and if Satan presents anything to my mind, it is so repulsive to me that I cannot tell you the grief and horror with which it fills me." I wrote her again, encouraging her, and I got another letter, in which she said, "It is a fact that He has cleansed the thoughts of my heart, and now I am conscious that my thoughts are pleasing to Him, that He has saved me from this sin which has been the trouble and torment of my life for all these years gone by." Now, what I want to say to you, is, that what He can do for one, He can do for another. If I am wrong here, I give up the whole question. I am perfectly mistaken in the purpose and aim and command of the Gospel dispensation, if God does not want His people to be pure. Not to count themselves pure when they _are not_. Oh, no! We are told, over and over again, that God wants His people to be pure, and THAT PURITY IN THEIR HEARTS IS THE VERY CENTRAL IDEA AND END AND PURPOSE OF THE GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST; if it is not so, I give up the whole question--I am utterly deceived. In justification of this, I have selected two or three texts which seem to put it all in one; summing-up texts, so to speak. I will take first, as a specimen, what my husband has been trying to enforce--"The will of God is your sanctification." There is, however, a sense, and an important sense, in which sanctification must be the will of man. It must be _my_ will, too, and if it is not my will, the Divine will can never be accomplished in me. I must _will_ to be sanctified, as God is willing that I should be sanctified. There are as many, and more, exhortations in the Bible to sanctify yourselves than there are promises of God to sanctify you. The next text is James iv. 8: "Draw nigh to God, and He will draw nigh to you. Cleanse _your_ hands, _ye_ sinners; and purify _your_ hearts _ye_ double-minded." This was to backsliders, to people who had been professing to believe, but who had gone back under the dominion of their fleshly appetites and passions. There are two or three other texts where we seem to get the whole matter summed up, as, for instance, "He gave Himself for us (that is, for us Christians, the whole Church of God) that He might redeem us from _all iniquity_, and purify unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works."--That is, purify _us_. And then 1 Timothy i. 5 shows God's purpose and aim in the whole method of redemption. "Now the end of the commandment is charity out of a _pure heart_, and of a _good conscience_, and of faith unfeigned"--cleansed and kept clean, for if it had been cleaned and become dirty again, it would not be a good but a bad conscience. And again, in I John iii. 3: "And every man that hath this hope in Him, purifieth himself, even as He is pure." Now, I say, these are summing-up texts, and there are numbers of others to the same effect, to show that the whole end and purpose of redemption is this--that He will restore us to purity; that He will bring us back to righteousness; that He will purge your consciences from dead works to serve the living God--not only purge you from the past, but keep you purged to serve the LIVING GOD; that it shall be done by the application of the blood to the conscience, and then it shall be maintained by the power of the Holy Ghost keeping us in a state of purity and obedience to righteousness. Now, I say, if this be not the central idea of Christianity, I do not understand it. If God cannot do this for me--if Jesus Christ cannot do this for me, what is my advantage at all by His coming? There is a great deal more in these epistles directed to the individual Christian to _be_ this, that, and the other, and to _do_ this, that, and the other, than there is about what God will do for him after all! This is not an objective Christianity--this is not sitting down and sentimentalizing and thinking of Christ in the Heavens, in these epistles; it brings Him down, to all intents and purposes, INTO OUR HEARTS AND LIVES HERE, and it is one of the continual exhortations, _be_ ye this, and _do_ ye this and the other. These epistles represent a real, practical transformation to be accomplished IN US, and this is the only thing that will do to die with. If it is not accomplished in you, I tell you, you will not be able to die in peace. You will want to be cleansed, as my dear husband told you, before you can venture into the presence of the King of kings. You will want a sense of beautiful, moral rectitude and righteousness spreading over your whole nature, which will enable you to look up into the face of God and say, "Yes, I love Thee, I know Thee, and Thou knowest me, and lovest me, and we are one. I love the things Thou lovest, and desire the things Thou desirest. We are of one spirit, 'joined in one spirit unto the Lord.'" You will want that, and nothing less will do to die with. And why not have it? Will you have it? Why not let God work it in us? Will you try it? People are constantly saying, "They long for it, and they wish they could get it." Will you let God do it? Will you put away the depths of unbelief which are at the bottom of all your difficulty? People really do not believe that God _can_ do it for them, and that is at the bottom of their difficulties. But He can do it, and He promises to do it. Will you go down, and say, "Be it unto me according to Thy word"? "BORN--A SAVIOUR." Luke ii. 11. Jesus a Saviour born, Without: Without the inn, refused with scorn. Cast out: Cast out for me, my Saviour, King, Cast out to bring this lost one in. Jesus a Saviour born, A man: A man of sorrows, smitten, torn by stripes: By stripes, O Lord, my soul is healed, By stripes, Thy stripes, my pardon sealed. Jesus a Saviour born, The Lamb: The Lamb of God hath bled and borne My sins: My sins the Sacrifice did slay, My sins the Lamb doth take away. Jesus a Saviour born To save: To save at night, at noon, at morn. To keep: To keep from sin, from doubt, from fear; To keep, for lo! the Keeper's here. Jesus a Saviour born, A King: A King! exalt His glorious horn, And sing: O sing, ye heavens! He burst His grave, And sing, O earth! He lives to save! SECOND ADDRESS. I beseech yon therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service. And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.--ROM. xii. 1,2. I have been thinking about the word in the text, "_that_"--"that ye may prove what is that good and acceptable, and perfect will of God." This advance in the Divine life, as well as every other, right to the end, till we advance into glory, has its _conditions_. The condition of the advance from an absolutely unawakened worldly condition, to that of a convinced sinner, _is the reception of the light_. God awakens and enlightens tens of thousands, and thousands reject the light--instantly put it away--shut their eyes --will not have the light. These go back into greater darkness, and sin with more alacrity than ever they did before;--those who receive the light advance into the condition of awakened, enlightened souls. The next condition of advance from the state of a struggling sinner, willing to part with his sins and to follow Christ, _is faith_, to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, that he may receive the forgiveness of sins. And at every advance onwards, if the believer is ever to get beyond the first principles, if he is ever to grow a single inch, so to speak, there is a condition involved in that advance! For instance, if, after conversion, the Holy Spirit reveals to him something which is inconsistent--which he did not before see--the condition of his advance another step is the _renunciation_ of that thing!--the reception of the light, and _obedience to it;_ and, if he shrinks from and does not receive and obey the light, he will never advance _any more_ until he does. There are thousands of Christians, who, instead of advancing, have gone back since their conversion, because they would not comply with the condition, "THAT" they might prove the good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God. There was a condition. They would have proved the will of God if there had been no condition; but there was a condition they would not comply with; so there they stick, just where they were--or, rather, they have gone backward. Well, now, then, here is a condition to _this_ grand and glorious advance from the state of justification, where, while the believer is given power over sin, so that it does not rule over him, yet he sometimes, through its inward workings, falls under its power--the advance from this comparatively sinning and repenting condition on to that platform where the believer so abides in Christ that he sins not, that he loves God with all his heart, and soul, and mind, and strength--so united to Christ that, walking in the power of the Holy Ghost, he fulfils the law of love under which he is placed--the advance, I say, from that up and down, in and out, falling and rising state, to this higher platform, also has its _conditions_. You would go up to it to-day if it were not for the conditions; most of you would go up in a body, as the Israelites would have gone into Canaan, if there had been no condition. I never knew anyone so foolish as not to want to be in the good land; they want to be in, of course, and they would go in and get the honey and the milk, but there are the _conditions!_ Now then, here you have it plain, and you have it in numbers of other passages equally plain. There is nothing upon which the Holy Ghost has been more particular than in laying down the conditions. And what are they? "I beseech you, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice"--the living man--you, all of you; not _it_--not something in you. The latter term is never used by the Holy Ghost when speaking to Christians, but always _you, ye, your_ bodies, _your_ souls, _your_ mind, the whole man--YOU, "a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, _which is_ your reasonable service." And is it not? Is it too much? Is it more than He bargained for when He bought you? Is it more than He paid for? It is "your reasonable service." And now, then, comes the conditions: "And be _not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed_ by the renewing of your mind, _that_ ye may prove." Oh! if you could be transformed to Him and conformed to this world at the same time, all the difficulty would be over. I know plenty of people who would be transformed directly; but, to be not conformed to this world--how they stand and wince at that! They cannot have it at that price. As dear Finney once said, "My brother, if you want to find God, you will not find Him up there, amongst all the starch and flattery of hell; you will have to come down for Him." That is it--"Be not conformed to this world." Nothing wounds me more, after being at meetings for dealing with souls, where I have tried to speak in a most pointed and thorough way to make everybody know what I meant, when I go to the dinner or supper-table, people have not known a bit, or, if they have, they won't accept it. Oh! this is the secret--they will not come down from their pride and high-mightiness. But God will not be revealed to such souls, though they cry and pray themselves to skeletons, and go mourning all their days. They will not fulfil the condition--"Be not conformed to this world;" they will not forego their conformity even to the extent of a dinner party. A great many that I know will not forego their conformity to the shape of their head-dress. They won't forego their conformity to the extent of giving up visiting and receiving visits from ungodly, worldly, hollow, and superficial people. They will not forego their conformity to the tune of having their domestic arrangements upset--no, not if the salvation of their children, and servants, and friends depends upon it. The _sine qua non_ is their own comfort, and then take what you can get, on God's side. "We _must_ have this, and we _must_ have the other; and then, if the Lord Jesus Christ will come in at the tail end and sanctify it all, we shall be very much obliged to Him; but we cannot forego these things." Oh! friends, I tell you, this will never do. God helping me, I will, I must tell you, because it is driven in upon my soul by what I am seeing and hearing every day. People come to these meetings, and they groan and cry and come to us for help, and we exhaust our poor brains and bodies in talking to them and giving them advice, telling them what to do, and, when it comes to the point, we find, "Oh! no; don't you be mistaken: we are not going to sacrifice these things. We cannot have the Lord if He will not come into our temples and take them as He finds them. We could not forego these things." You remember the text that was read at the opening of the meeting--"And the world hath hated them, because they are not of the world." It means something! and there are a hundred other texts teaching the same truth. Now, _what does it mean_? The Lord help us to see it! Does it not mean that we are not to be like the rest of the world?--that we are not to be guided by the same maxims, or act upon the same principles as the world?--that we are not to attach the same importance to mere earthly and worldly things that worldly people do? Have you ever thought of those awful words in the parable of the sower?--"And the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts of other things, entering in, _choke_ the word, and it becometh unfruitful,"--not abominable things, not immoral things, not shameful things, but the _desire of other_ things. And, in another text: "_Who mind earthly things_." They attach more importance to worldly things and other things than they do to the things of His kingdom. They practically make these things _first_, though they sing about His kingdom and profess to make Him first: they make the earthly things first, and, therefore, they will not have their earthly things upset for His things; and do you suppose He is cheated? Do you suppose He is deceived? Do you think it likely that the great God of Heaven, who has millions of angels and archangels to worship and serve Him, is going to pour His glory on such people, and reveal Himself to them, and use them? Not likely! "I will be first in your love," He says. You women here, if you knew that you were not the first and only one in the affections of your husband, what would you say? And you husbands, would you dwell with a wife if you knew you were not the only one in her affections, but that they were divided between you and someone else? "Not likely!" you would say; "I am not going to lavish my affections, and my society, and my gifts, and everything I possess, on one whose heart is divided with another. If she will have her heart divided, then she must go to that other." Now you know God is a jealous God, and He knows who do mock Him, and He knows who will not sacrifice this conformity to the world that they may walk with Him in white. He knows, also, who do not care what anybody thinks of them, or what people say of them; who are willing to be counted fools and fanatics that they may walk with Him and promote the interests of His kingdom, and who only regard their bodies as His instruments and their homes as His temples; who are willing that their breakfast hours, or dinner hours, or luncheon hours, or any other hours may be upset, and, in fact, everything made subservient to the interests of His kingdom. We must place everything at His service--our children, business, homes, and everything. If I understand it, this is nonconformity to the world. Before I close, let me say a word to help those who are desiring to attain this blessing. There is no other way. It is of no use beating about. BE NOT CONFORMED, BUT BE YE TRANSFORMED. These two are in juxtaposition. If you will be conformed, then you cannot be transformed; if you will not be transformed, then you must be conformed. Now, will you give up conformity to the world? If so, you may, everyone of you, be transformed this morning--go up into the land. You may all be saved to-day, and make your abiding-place in Christ, and have all the power and glory which comes to those who possess Him; you may advance from the miserable condition of a poor up-and-down, in-and-out, wretched man, on to the glorious vantage ground of a saved man--a saved woman--a triumphant saint of God! FAITH. My faith _looks up_ to Thee-- My faith, so small, so slow; It lifts its drooping eyes to see And claim the blessing now. Thy wondrous gift It sees afar; Thy perfect love It claims to share, And doth not, cannot fear. My faith _takes hold_ on Thee-- My faith, so weak, so faint; It lifts its trembling hands to be, Trembling, but violent. The kingdom now It takes by force, And waits till Thou, Its last resource, Shall seal and sanctify. My faith _holds fast_ on Thee, My faith, still small, but sure, Its anchor holds _alone_ to Thee, Whose presence keeps me pure. And Thou alway, To see and hear, By night, by day, Art very near-- Art very near to me. THIRD ADDRESS. What a deal there is of going to meetings and getting blessed, and then going away and living just the same, until sometimes we, who are constantly engaged in trying to bring people nearer to God, go away so discouraged that our hearts are almost broken. We feel that people go back again from the place where we have led them, instead of stepping up to the place to which God is calling them. They come and come, and we are, as the Prophet says, unto them a very pleasant instrument, or a very unpleasant one, as the case may be; and so they go away, and do not _get anything_. They do not make any _definite advance_. We have not communicated unto them any spiritual gift. They merely have their feelings stirred, and, consequently, they live the next week exactly as they lived the last, and go down under the temptation just as they did before. Would you dream for a moment from reading the New Testament that this was the kind of thing God intended in His provisions of grace and salvation? Is there not a definite end in every promise, exhortation, and command? God is most _definite_ in His requirements and promises, and in the provision which He has made; and yet many of the Lord's people are perpetually and persistently _indefinite_. They go to and fro, like a door on its hinges, and never get anything from the Lord. We want you absolutely to get something from the Lord, and we are quite sure you may and _will_, if you comply with the condition. The Lord is ready to give you that particular measure of grace, strength, and salvation which you need. Now that you have come up to the threshhold of the goodly land, there is only one thing which can keep you out, provided you have made the needed consecration. Of course, if you are holding anything back, then you can never come in until you give that up. If yon are cleaving to some doubtful thing, and don't give God the benefit of the doubt, you can never come in; but, if you see this, and make the necessary consecration, if you _really_ desire this blessing, there is only one thing which can possibly keep you out of its enjoyment, and that is--_unbelief_. It will be said of you, in years to come, as it was said of some in olden times, "They entered not in because of unbelief." You have come right up to the threshhold, and some of you have been there many a time. Oh! what gracious influences you have been the subject of. You have seen through the veil! You have felt His hand! You have had your feet on the threshhold! You have been almost in, and then you have drawn back through unbelief. Shall it be so again to-night? God forbid! Will yon step over? Will you venture? Will you trust? Will yon leap on to His faithfulness? Will you spring into the arms of Omnipotent Love, and trust Him with consequences? Never mind if you _do_ die, or something happens to you that never happened to anyone else in the world's history; God will take care of you. Never mind if the devil does come round and "consider" you, as he did Job, and afflict you with boils, and put you upon the dunghill--you will be happier there with Jesus than in a palace without Him. Oh! this caring for consequences! The devil knows the grand _possibilities_ open to many of you; he knows not only what you might receive and enjoy in yourselves, but what you might accomplish for God if you would only come in and possess this blessing; and so he frightens you with consequences. He knows what you might do, and whom you might be instrumental in saving! Who knows how many of these precious ones that cluster round you, you may be instrumental in leading on to this higher platform--this glorious vantage ground of Christian experience? and, through them, how many more? and how, in this way, the glorious blessing would spread? Remember, also, that every time you come near and go back, there is less _probability that you will ever come in at all_; and the nearer you come and go back, the less probability there is that you will ever come as near again. You _are grieving the Spirit_. There are some people who have been coming near for years, and now they have gone back altogether, and I am afraid they will never come up again. _What will you do?_ The law of the kingdom, from beginning to end, is, "According to your faith be it unto you," and, "What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive _them_, and ye shall have _them_." _Eternal truth has uttered it_--"ye shall have them." Now then, will you? Have you let go all? Are your skirts free? Are you leaving all behind you? Are you resolved from to-night to cut from the past, and no more make any provision for the flesh to fulfil its lusts, but that you will bid the things that are behind a final adieu, close your eyes on them, and fix your eyes on the mark of the prize of your high calling, and press on every succeeding hour of your life until you reach it? Will you? If you will, God will give you this blessing. He waits to do it; He is here. The Holy Ghost is here: He is leading many of you up; He is beseeching you; He is seconding what I am saying, in your hearts; He is saying, "Come, beloved; come into the banqueting house;" He wants to bless you and fill you with His Spirit. Now then, will you come? Oh! the Lord help you not to draw back, but to press on, _press on, press on_, never minding the consequences. FOURTH ADDRESS. I think, dear friends, that I have only a very few words to say to you now. I am, as it were, holding on to God for power by which to say them, so that they shall sink into your hearts and produce some immediate and permanent results in your lives. I believe the Lord is not only grieved and disappointed, but I believe He is angry, when His people meet, and talk, and sing, and pray, and then go away without any definite result having been reached--without ever having given anything to Him, or received anything from Him. I believe He feels with respect to us, just as He felt with respect to His people of old, when He said, "Why come ye and cover my altar with tears?" As though He said, "You know what I want you to do; come and do it; and, when you do it, I will open the windows of Heaven and pour out a blessing." My heart ached at what a lady told me this morning, before I came into this hall. She said, "A friend of mine remarked, 'You don't mean to say that you are going to call four thousand people together to cry for the Holy Ghost?' She said, 'Yes, I do.' 'Well, it makes me frightened. What if anything should happen; if something should be done?'" Would to God something would happen; would to God something might be done that should frighten somebody. But oh! what did that reveal? Depths of infidelity and unbelief; and yet people wonder that infidelity is increasing. Is it any wonder that infidels are laughing us to scorn? Is it any wonder that at Christian Evidence Societies men get up and say that the Christian system has become effete? No wonder, when that is the state of heart of the Lord's people. People meet together, and pray, and talk, and sing "Whiter than snow," and they don't believe it any more than do the heathen. They pray for the Holy Ghost, and do not so much as believe there is a Holy Ghost. They ask God to do something, when they never knew Him to do anything, and don't expect He ever will. The world is dying because of this unreality, and being damned by it. Josephine Butler says, about France, "France is waiting for a _reality_:" and so is England, and so is the world waiting for a _reality_. God help us to make some _real people_. You believe, some of you, that nothing is going to happen. You don't believe that God is going to do anything--so He won't in your experience. If you had lived at Nazareth, do you think Jesus Christ would have done anything for you? If you had been deaf and dumb, you would have remained so, for He could not have done any mighty works in you, because of your unbelief! He is the same now; and if you don't expect Him to do anything, brother, He will not. But some of us do _expect_ Him to do _something_. Some of us _believe_ He is going to do _something_, and that by this little stone, cut out of a mountain, without hands, He intends to raise a great kingdom. Jesus Christ is not going to be disappointed, and allow the devil to chuckle in His face forever, and say, "I have cheated You out of Your inheritance." We will do something, or die in attempting it. After all, what does God want with us? He wants us just _to be_ and _to do_. He wants us to be like His Son, and then to do as His Son did; and when we come to that, He will shake the world through us. People say, "You can't be like His Son." Very well, then, you will never get any more than you believe for. If I did not think Jesus Christ strong enough to destroy the works of the devil, and to bring us back to God's original pattern, I would throw the whole thing up for ever. What! He has given, us a religion we cannot practice? I say, No, He has not come to mock us. What? He has given us a Saviour who cannot save? Then I decline to have anything to do with Him. What! does He profess to do for me what He cannot? No, no. He "is not a man, that He should lie: neither the Son of man, that He should repent:" and I tell you that His scheme of salvation is two-sided--it is God-ward and man-ward. It contemplates me as well as it contemplates the great God. It is not a scheme of salvation, merely--it is a scheme of _restoration_. If He cannot restore me, He must damn me. If He cannot heal me, and make me over again, and restore me to the pattern He intended me to be, He has left Himself no choice. I challenge anybody to disprove by the Bible that He proposes to _restore_ me--brain, heart, soul, spirit, body, every fibre of my nature--to restore me perfectly, to conform me wholly to the image of His Son. If He could have saved me without restoring me, then He could have saved me without a Saviour at all. How do you read your Bibles? How do you read the history of the miracles--the stories of His opening the eyes, unstopping the ears, cleansing the leper, and raising the dead? He will heal you if you will let Him. These are the sort of words the world wants--the living words, living embodiments of Christianity, walking embodiments of the Spirit, and life and power of Jesus Christ. You may scatter Bibles, as you have done, all over the world. You may preach, and sing, and talk, and do what you will; but, if you don't exhibit to the people _living epistles_, show them the transformation of character and life in yourself which is brought about by the power and grace of God--if you don't go to them and do the works of Jesus Christ, you may go on preaching, and the world will get worse and worse, and the church, too. We want a living embodiment of Christianity. We want JESUS TO COME IN THE FLESH AGAIN. Did you ever notice the tense in that passage--"He that believeth that Jesus is come in the flesh"--not that He _did_ come, or _was_ come, but that He _is_ come now. Oh! how people hate Jesus Christ in the flesh. You may be ever so devout, ever so Pharisaic, till you come to Jesus in the flesh, and then they will gnash on you with their teeth as they gnashed on Christ. They can't resist such people. This is what the world wants--holy people; and nothing else will do. We have tried everything else. You Christian people from other divisions of the Lord's forces, you have tried Bibles, and preaching, and singing, and services, and Sunday-schools. I have been lately to a part of the country where they told me that nearly every member of the population had passed through their Sunday-schools, and yet there are men there who will drag a young girl down a flight of stone stairs and kick her till she is black and blue. The great mass of the people who took part in the Lancashire Riots have passed through your Sunday-schools. Now, I say, God is speaking to you in these things, if only you will hear Him, and He is saying that the letter killeth, that circumcision, and baptism, and forms, and ceremonies, and going to chapel, and Bible reading, is all nothing, when there is no Holy Ghost in it. You want a real, living embodiment of Christianity over again, and if the Salvation Army is not going to be that, may God put it out! I would be willing to pronounce the funeral oration of the Army if I did not believe it was going to be that. The world is dying for this. I was so touched, yesterday, by hearing a story from Paris, told by a young woman who has just returned, and was telling me about my precious child. The story was this: A woman came, one morning, and asked for the lady. They tried to put her off, and asked, "Will not someone else do?" "No," said the woman; "I do want to see the lady herself." They said, "You can't see her to-day--she is too ill!" "Then," she said, "When can I see her?" They appointed a time the next afternoon, and then this poor woman came, and she told this story: "I did hear, six years ago, that there was somebody could take the devil out. Now, see, I have got a devil in, and he do make me wicked and miserable, and I do want him taken out, and I have been running about these six years to find somebody who could pull him out. I've been to lots of priests, but they could not pull him out because they had a devil in _them_; and, you see when there's a devil in me and a devil in them, we got to fighting, and they could not pull him out." What a comment on "Jesus I know, and Paul I know; but who are ye?" Of course, nobody can put a devil out who has a devil in them. The poor old woman's sense told her this. "And," she continued, "a gentleman told me that this lady who has come here is able to pull him out, and I have come to her to do it, for I want him pulled out." Oh, yes! I thought, that is what poor humanity wants all the world over. THEY WANT PEOPLE WHO CAN CAST THE DEVIL OUT--people who have in them Holy Ghost power to do it. Oh! will you be such an one? "Where is God?" someone said to me the other day, in agony--"Where is God?" Where, indeed! "Why does He not show Himself? Why does He not do something?" That lady was afraid something would happen when 4,000 met together to beseech the Holy Ghost! Why not? You say He has not changed. Your creed says so. You say He is the same yesterday, to-day and forever. You say the needs of the world are as great. You say His great, benevolent heart beats for His fallen, sinful, erring human family. You say He loves us. You are always telling about His love. What is the reason He does not do something for us, and come down in the same plentitude of spiritual power as He did at Pentecost? Why? Only because you are not as given up to Him and as willing to do it as the people were in former times. You have not accounted all things dung and dross. You have not thrown everything into the scale, and, therefore, He will not thus baptize you with the Holy Ghost. These are the people that the world wants--people of one idea--Christ, and Him crucified. For Christ's sake, give up quibbling. I said to a lady who had got this blessing when somebody got at her and began with this verse and that verse, and this translation and that translation--"Mind you don't begin to reason; you will lose your blessing"--and she did lose it. You can't know it by understanding. Oh! if the world could have known it by understanding, what a deal they would have known. But He despises all your philosophy. It is not by understanding, but _by faith_! If ever you know God it will be by faith, becoming as a little child--opening your mouth, and saying, "Lord, pour in;" and then your quibbles and difficulties will be gone, and you will see holiness, sanctification, purity, perfect love, burning out on every page of God's Word. I weep before God, I feel almost more than I can bear, over this awful knack that some people seem to have of plucking the bread out of the children's mouths when they are just getting an appetite for it. The Lord have mercy upon them! If you don't come in yourselves, for Christ's sake don't keep other people out. A minister--a devoted, good man--was trying to show me that this sanctification was too big to be got and kept. I said, "My dear sir, how do you know? If another man has faith to march up to Jesus Christ and say, 'Here, I see this in your Book; You have promised this to me; now then, Lord, I have faith to take it:' mind you don't measure His privilege by your faith. Do you think the church has come up to His standard of privilege and obligation? I don't. It has many marches to make yet. Mind you don't hinder anybody." The law of the kingdom all the way through will be--"According to your faith." If you want this blessing, put down your quibbles, put your feet on your arguments, march up to the throne and ask for it, and kill, and crucify, and cast from you, the accursed thing which hinders it, and then you shall have it, and the Lord will fill you with His power and glory now, and something _will_ happen. The Lord grant it. 
30657	----	_Sovereign Grace_ Its Source, Its Nature and Its Effects By D. L. Moody _"By Grace are ye saved."--Ephesians ii. 8_ With Three Gospel Dialogues Chicago New York Toronto FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY London and Edinburgh _Copyrighted 1891 by Fleming H. Revell Company._ PREFATORY NOTE. IN the exercise of his high calling, the faithful ambassador of Christ must not scruple to declare the whole counsel of God--"rightly dividing the word of truth," to all classes of hearers. He must warn the openly wicked man that if he persists in his evil courses, the just judgments of God will inevitably overtake him; he must unmask the hypocrite; he must utter no uncertain protest against the crooked and devious ways of the self-seeker and the time-server. But if he enters into the Spirit of his Master, no part of his public work will be more congenial or delightful than the proclamation of the full, free, and sovereign grace of God, manifested towards sinful men in the gift of His Eternal Son, to be the Saviour of the world. It has been my happy privilege in years past to tell out, as best I could, this wonderful story of redeeming grace. The following pages record the addresses I have given on the various aspects of this great subject. I pray God that in their printed form they may serve to deepen in the mind of the reader the appreciation of this grace, at once so infinite and so undeserved. The chapter entitled "A Chime of Gospel Bells," though not strictly flowing out of the general subject, is in perfect harmony with it; every note in the chime is intended to ring out the gracious invitation to "Come" to the God of all grace and be blessed. The Dialogues which form the latter part of the book were heard with much interest and profit at some of the London meetings; I think the perusal of them will be helpful in removing many of the hindrances that prevent anxious inquirers from accepting without delay the salvation that God in His grace has provided for the sinful children of men. CONTENTS. The Fountain of Grace Saved by Grace Alone Possessing, and "Working Out" Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners Law and Grace Grace for Living Grace for Service "A Chime of Gospel Bells" GOSPEL DIALOGUES: I. What It Is to be a Child of God II. How to Become a Christian III. What It Is to be Converted "Grace! 'tis a charming sound, Harmonious to the ear; Heaven with the echo shall resound, And all the earth shall hear. 'Twas grace that wrote my name In life's eternal book; 'Twas grace that gave me to the Lamb, Who all my sorrows took. Grace taught my wandering feet To tread the heavenly road; And new supplies each hour I meet, While pressing on to God. Oh let that grace inspire My soul with strength divine. May all my prayers to Thee aspire, And all my days be Thine." _Dr. Doddridge._ SOVEREIGN GRACE CHAPTER I. THE FOUNTAIN OF GRACE. THERE are some words with which we have been familiar from our infancy up, and probably there are few words in the English language that are so often used as this word "GRACE." Many of you at your table "say grace" three times a day. You seldom go into a church without hearing the word mentioned. You seldom read any part of the New Testament, especially the Epistles, without meeting the word. There is probably not a word in the language so little understood. There are a great many who have received the grace of God into their heart, but who, if they should be asked what the word means would be troubled, and confused, and unable to tell. I experienced the grace of God a good many years before I really knew the true meaning of the word. Now, grace means unmerited mercy--undeserved favor. If men were to wake up to the fact, they would not be talking about their own worthiness when we ask them to come to Christ. When the truth dawns upon them that Christ came to save the unworthy, then they will accept salvation. Peter calls God "the God of all grace." Men talk about grace, but, as a rule, they know very little about it. Let a business man go to one of your bankers to borrow a few hundred dollars for sixty or ninety days; if he is well able to pay, the banker will perhaps lend him the money if he can get another responsible man to sign the note with him. They give what they call three days' grace after the sixty or ninety days have expired; but they will make the borrower pay interest on the money during these three days, and if he does not return principal and interest at the appointed time, they will sell his goods; they will perhaps turn him out of his house, and take the last piece of furniture in his possession. That is not grace at all; but that fairly illustrates man's idea of it. Grace not only frees you from payment of the interest, but of the principal also. ITS SOURCE. In the Gospel by John we read, "The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the Only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth . . . For the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." Now you know that for many years men were constantly trying to find the source of the Nile. The river of grace has been flowing through this dark earth for six thousand years, and we certainly ought to be more anxious to find out its source than to discover the source of the Nile. I think if you will read your Bible carefully you will find that this wonderful river of grace comes right from the very heart of God. I remember being in Texas a few years ago, in a place where the country was very dry and parched. In that dry country there is a beautiful river that springs right out of the ground. It flows along; and on both sides of the river you find life and vegetation. Grace flows like that river; and you can trace its source right up to the very heart of God. You may say that its highest manifestation was seen when God gave the Son of His bosom to save this lost world. "Not as the offense, so also is the free gift. For if through the offense of one many be dead, much more the grace of God, and the gift by grace, which is by one man, Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto many." A FREE GIFT. Notice, it is the free gift of God. "Grace be unto you, and peace, from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ. I thank my God always on your behalf, for the grace of God which is given you by Jesus Christ." Paul wrote fourteen Epistles; and every one of them is closed with a prayer for grace. Paul calls it "The free gift of God." Thousands have been kept out of the kingdom of God because they do not realize what this free gift is. They think they must do something to merit salvation. The first promise given to fallen man was a promise of grace. God never promised Adam anything when He put him in Eden. God never entered into a covenant with him as He did with Abraham. God told him "of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die;" but when this came to pass then God came and gave him a gracious promise. He dealt in grace with him. As he left the Garden of Eden he could say to Eve, "Well, God does love us, though He has driven us out." There was no sign that Adam recognized his lost condition. As far as we know there was no cry for mercy or pardon, no confession of sin. Yet we find that God dealt in grace with him. God sought Adam out that he might bestow His grace upon him. He met Adam in his lost and ruined condition, and the first thing He did was to proclaim the promise of a coming Saviour. For six thousand years, God has been trying to teach the world this great and glorious truth--that He wants to deal with man in love and in grace. It runs right through the Bible; all along you find this stream of grace flowing. The very last promise in the closing chapter of Revelation, like the first promise in Eden, is a promise of grace: "Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." So the whole revelation, and the whole history of man is encircled with grace, the free favor of God. Some years ago when I was speaking on this subject, a friend sent me the following: "By the grace of God I am what I am!" This is the believer's eternal confession. Grace found him a rebel--it leaves him a son. Grace found him wandering at the gates of hell--it leads him through the gates of heaven. Grace devised the scheme of Redemption: Justice never would; Reason never could. And it is grace which carries out that scheme. No sinner would ever have sought his God but 'by grace.' The thickets of Eden would have proved Adam's grave, had not grace called him out. Saul would have lived and died the haughty self-righteous persecutor had not grace laid him low. The thief would have continued breathing out his blasphemies, had not grace arrested his tongue and tuned it for glory. "'Out of the knottiest timber,' says Rutherford, 'He can make vessels of mercy for service in the high palace of glory.'" "'I came, I saw, I conquered,' says Toplady, 'may be inscribed by the Saviour on every monument of grace.' 'I came to the sinner; I looked upon him; and with a look of omnipotent love, I conquered.'" My friend, we would have been this day wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness--Christless--hopeless --portionless--had not grace invited us, and grace constrained us. RESTRAINING GRACE. It is grace which, at this moment, keeps us. We have often been a Peter--forsaking our Lord, but brought back to him again. Why not a Demas or a Judas? 'I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not.' Is not this our own comment and reflection on life's retrospect? 'Yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.' Oh, let us seek to realize our continual dependence on this grace every moment! 'More grace! more grace!' should be our continual cry. But the infinite supply is commensurate with the infinite need. The treasury of grace, though always emptying is always full: the key of prayer which opens it is always at hand: and the almighty Almoner of the blessings of grace is always waiting to the gracious. The recorded promise never can be canceled or reversed--'My grace is sufficient for thee.' Let us seek to dwell much on this inexhaustible theme. The grace of God is the source of minor temporal as well as of higher spiritual blessings. It accounts for the crumb of daily bread as well as for the crown of eternal glory. But even in regard to earthly mercies, never forget the channel of grace through Christ Jesus. It is sweet thus to connect every (even the smallest and humblest) token of providential bounty with Calvary's Cross--to have the common blessings of life stamped with the print of the nails; it makes them doubly precious to think this flows from Jesus. Let others be contented with the uncovenanted mercies of God. Be it ours to say as the children of grace and heirs of glory--'Our Father which art in heaven, give us this day our daily bread.' Nay, reposing in the all-sufficiency in all things, promised by 'the God of all grace.' CHAPTER II. SAVED BY GRACE ALONE. I WANT to call your special attention to the fact that we are saved by grace alone, not by works _and_ grace. A great many people think that they can be saved by works. Others think that salvation may be attained by works and grace together. They need to have their eyes opened to see that the gift of God is free and apart from works. "For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God. Not of works, lest any man should boast." Many people would put it thus: "For by your works are ye saved,--or by your tears, or your prayers, or your fastings, or your trials, or your good resolutions, or your money!" But Paul tells us plainly that it is "not of works, lest any man should boast." If we could be saved by works, then of course Christ's mission to this world was a mistake. There was no need for Him to come. What had Paul ever done that could merit salvation? Up to the time that Christ called him he had done everything he could against Christ and against Christianity. He was in the very act of going to Damascus to cast into prison every Christian he could find. If he had not been stopped, many of them would probably have been put to death. It was Paul, you remember, who cheered on the mob that stoned Stephen. Yet we find that when Christ met him He dealt in grace with him. No apostle says so much against salvation by works _before_ the cross, as Paul; and none says so much about works _after_ the cross. He put works in their right place. I have very little sympathy with any man who has been redeemed by the precious blood of the Son of God, and who has not got the spirit of work. If we are children of God we ought not to have a lazy drop of blood in our veins. If a man tells me that he has been saved, and does not desire to work for the honor of God, I doubt his salvation. Laziness belongs to the old creation, not to the new. In all my experience I never knew a lazy man to be converted--never. I have more hope of the salvation of drunkards, and thieves, and harlots, than of a lazy man. WHAT THE THIRTY-NINE ARTICLES SAY. I find some people have accused me of teaching heresy, because I say salvation is all of grace. I remember once, a clergyman said I was teaching false doctrine because I said salvation was all of grace. He said that works had as much to do with our salvation as grace. At that time I had never read the Thirty-Nine Articles; if I had I should have been ready to meet him. I got the Prayer Book, and looked through the Thirty-Nine Articles; and I found, to my amazement, that they put it a good deal stronger than I had done. Let us hear what they say-- "XI. _Of the Justification of Man._ We are accounted righteous before God, only for the merit of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ by Faith, and not for our own works or deservings: Wherefore, that we are justified by Faith only, is a most wholesome doctrine, and very full of comfort." "XII. _Of Good Works._ Albeit that Good Works, which are the fruits of Faith, and follow after Justification, cannot put away our sins, and endure the severity of God's judgment; yet are they pleasing and acceptable to God in Christ, and do spring out necessarily of a true and lively Faith; insomuch that by them a lively Faith may be as evidently known as a tree discerned by the fruit." "XIII. _Of Works Before Justification._ Works done before the grace of Christ, and the inspiration of His Spirit, are not pleasant to God; forasmuch as they spring not of faith in Jesus Christ, neither do they make men meet to receive grace, or (as the school-authors say) deserve grace of congruity: yea rather, for that they are not done as God hath willed and commanded them to be done, we doubt not but they have the nature of sin." That is stronger than I ever put it. These Articles say of works before justification that "they have the nature of sin." I never called them sin! So you see this is not any new doctrine that we are preaching. When the church and the world wake up to the fact that works before salvation go for nought, _then_--and not till then, I believe--men will come flocking into the kingdom of God by hundreds. We work from the cross, not to it. WE work because we are saved, not in order to be saved. We work from salvation, not up to it. Salvation is the gift of God. You have heard the Prayer Book: now hear paul; "Abraham believed God; and it was counted unto him for righteousness. Now to him that worketh is the reward not reckoned of grace, but of debt. But to him that worketh not, but believeth on Him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness." Notice what the Apostle says: "To him that worketh not." That is plain language, is it not? I may perhaps startle some of you by saying that many of you have been kept out of the kingdom of God by your good works. Nevertheless it is true. If you put works in the place of faith, they become a snare to you. It is "to him that worketh not, but believeth." I freely admit salvation is worth working for; it is worth a man's going round the world on his hands and knees, climbing its mountains, crossing its valleys, swimming its rivers, going through all manner of hardship in order to attain it. But we do not get it in that way. Paul went through all the trials and hardships he had to endure, because by the grace of God resting on him he was enabled to do so. PENANCE FOR SIN. Would you insult the Almighty by offering Him the fruits of this frail body to atone for sin? Supposing your Queen were to send me a magnificent present, and I said to the royal messenger: "I certainly should not like to accept this from Her Majesty without giving her something in return." Suppose I should send her a penny! How would the Queen feel, if I were to insult her in that way? And what have we that we can offer to God in return for His free gift of salvation? Less than nothing. We must come and take salvation in God's way. There is no merit in taking a gift. If a beggar comes to my house, and asks for bread to eat, and I give him a loaf of bread, there is no merit in his taking the bread. So if you experience the favor of God, you have to take it as a beggar. Some one has said: "If you come to God as a prince, you go away as a beggar: if you come as a beggar, you go away as a prince." It is to the needy that God opens the wardrobe of heaven, and brings out the robe of righteousness. Paul says again: "If by grace, then is it no more of works: otherwise grace is no more grace. But if it be of works, then is it no more grace: otherwise work is no more work." Paul is reasoning in this way: that if I work for a gift or attempt to give money for it, it ceases to be a gift. The only way to get a gift is to take it as a gift. An old man got up in one of our meetings and said, "I have been forty-two years learning three things." I pricked up my ears at that; I thought that if I could find out in about three minutes what a man had taken forty-two years to learn, I should like to do it. The first thing he said he had learned was that he could do nothing towards his own salvation. "Well," said I to myself, "that is worth learning." The second thing he had found out was that God did not require him to do anything. Well, that was worth finding out too. And the third thing was that the Lord Jesus Christ had done it all, that salvation was finished, and that all he had to do was to _take_ it. Dear friends, let us learn this lesson; let us give up our struggling and striving, and accept salvation at once. A FREE PARDON. I was preaching in the Southern States a few years ago; and the minister called my attention to one of the elders in his Church. He said: When the civil war broke out, that man was in one of the far Southern States, and he enlisted into the Southern army. He was selected by the Southern General as a spy, and sent to spy out the Northern army. As you know, armies have no mercy on spies, if they can catch them. This man was caught. He was tried by court-martial, and ordered to be shot. While he was in the guard-room, previous to the time of execution, the Northern soldiers used to bring him his rations. Every time they came to his cell he would call Abraham Lincoln by every vile epithet he could think of. It seemed as though he "lay awake nights" trying to study such names. At last the soldiers got so angry that they said they would be glad when the bullet went through his heart. Some of them even said they would like to put a bullet through him; and if they were not obliged by military order to feed him, they would let him starve in the prison. They thought that was what he deserved for talking so unjustly of Lincoln. One day while he was in the prison, waiting to be led out to execution, a Northern officer came to the cell. The prisoner, full of rage, thought his time was come to be shot. The officer opened the prison door, and handed him a free pardon from Abraham Lincoln! He told him he was at liberty; he could go to his wife and children! The man who had before been so full of bitterness, and malice, and rage, suddenly quieted down, and said, "What! has Abraham Lincoln pardoned me? For what? I never said a good word about him." The officer said, "If you had what you deserved you would be shot. But some one interceded for you at Washington and obtained your pardon; you are now at liberty." The minister, as he told me, said that this act of undeserved kindness quite broke the man's heart and led to his conversion. Said the minister, "You let any man speak one word against Abraham Lincoln now in the hearing of that man, and see what will happen. There is not a man in all the Republic of America, I believe, who has a kinder feeling towards our late President than he." Now that is grace. The man did not _deserve_ a pardon. But this is exactly what grace is: _undeserved mercy_. You may have been a rebel against God up to this very hour; but if you acknowledge your rebellion, and are willing to take the mercy that God offers, you can have it freely. It is there for every soul on the face of the earth. "The grace of God that bringeth salvation to all men hath appeared." Thank God for that! Salvation by grace is for all men. If we are lost, it will not be because God has not provided a Saviour, but because we spurn the gift of God--because we dash the cup of salvation from us. What says Christ? You remember that when He was on earth, they came to Him and asked what they should do to work the works of God. He had been telling them to labor not for the bread that perisheth, but for the meat that endureth unto everlasting life. Then they asked Him, "What shall we do that we may work the works of God?" What did Jesus tell them to do? Did He tell them to go and feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to visit the widow and the fatherless in their affliction? Perhaps you may say that, according to Scripture, is "pure and undefiled religion." Granted; but something comes before that. That is all right and necessary in its place. But when these men wanted to know what they had to do to inherit eternal life, Jesus said: "This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent." YOU CAN BELIEVE. A friend lately called my attention to the fact that God has put the offer of salvation in such a way that the whole world can lay hold of it. All men can believe. A lame man might not perhaps be able to visit the sick; but he can believe. A blind man by reason of his infirmity cannot do many things; but he can believe. A deaf man can believe. A dying man can believe. God has put salvation so simply that the young and the old, the wise and the foolish, the rich and the poor, can all believe if they will. Do you think that Christ would have come down from heaven, would have gone to Gethsemane and to Golgotha, would have suffered as He did, if man could have worked his way up to heaven?--if he could have merited salvation by his own efforts? I think if you give five minutes' consideration to this question you will see, that if man could have saved himself Christ need not have suffered at all. Remember, too, what Christ says: "He that climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber." He has marked out the way to God. He has opened up a new and shining way, and He wants us to take _His_ way. Certainly the attempt to work our way up to heaven is "climbing up some other way," is it not? If ever a man did succeed in working his way into heaven we should never hear the last of it! I have got so terribly sick of these so-called "self-made men." There are some men whom you cannot approach without hearing them blow their trumpet, saying, "I am a self-made man. I came here a poor man ten years ago; and now I am rich." It is all I--I--I! They go on boasting, and telling what wonderful beings they are! There is one thing that is excluded from the kingdom of heaven; and that is--boasting. If you and I ever get there it will be by the sovereign grace of God. There will be no credit due to ourselves. "Saved by grace alone! This is all my plea: Jesus died for all mankind, And Jesus died for me." CHAPTER III. POSSESSING, AND "WORKING OUT." I CAN imagine some one asking: What does that passage mean--"Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling?" Well, I want you to emphasize the word _your:_ "Work out _your_ salvation." That is most important. You hear people talk of working out salvation, when all the time they have not got it. How can you work out what you do not possess? Paul is here writing to the Christians at Philippi. They were already saved by the grace of God. Now that they had got this wonderful gift, he says: "Go, work it out." When you see a person working for salvation, you may know that he has got a false idea of the teaching of the Scripture. We have salvation as a gift; and of course we cannot get it by working for it. It is our appreciation of this gift that makes us work. Many people are working and working, as Rowland Hill says, like children on a rocking horse--it is a beautiful motion, but there is no progress. Those who are working for salvation are like men on a treadmill, going round, and round, and round; toiling, and toiling, and toiling; but nothing comes of it all. There is no progress, and there cannot be until you have the motive power within, till the breath of life comes from God, which can alone give you power to work for others. Suppose I say to my son: "You are going away from home; and I want you to be very careful how you spend that $500." "Well," he says, "if you will give me $500, I will be careful about it; but how can I be careful in spending what I have not got?" And so, unless you have salvation, you cannot work it out. Take another illustration. One summer my boy asked me to give him a piece of ground that he might have a garden all to himself. I said I would give it to him; but that I expected he would keep it clear of weeds, and use it in some way that would make it pleasant and profitable to him. He was to work out the piece of land; but he could not do that until I had given it to him. Neither was it his working it out that secured him the garden. I gave it to him freely, apart from any merit of his own; but I did so on the understanding that he should employ it to the best advantage. I think that is a fair illustration of our working out the salvation that God has given us. Of course these illustrations fail in some points. I could not impart to my son the willingness to work out the piece of land, though I could provide him with all the necessary implements. God not only gives us salvation freely, but he gives us the power to work it out. A writer says on this point: "Paul does not command the Philippians _to save themselves_. There was no thought in his mind of any meritorious self-righteousness. Man can by no work of his own either procure salvation or merit salvation. God worketh the salvation _within_ the soul--man only worketh that salvation _out_ in the Christian life. To break off from known sin; to renounce all self-righteousness; to cast ourselves in loving faith on the merits of Christ crucified; to commence at once a life of self-denial, of prayer, of obedience; to turn from all that God forbids, resolutely and earnestly, unto all that God requires--this is what the text implies. But then this is not salvation. Salvation is of God--of grace--of free grace. From the germ to the fruit, from foundation to top-stone--it is of grace, free grace, altogether and only. But the '_working out of salvation_'--is _man's part_ in the work of salvation. God will not repent for the man; nor believe for the man; nor lead a holy life for the man. God worketh inwardly--man worketh outwardly. And this outward human work is as necessary as the inward Divine work." God works in us; and then we work _for_ Him. If He has done a work in us, we certainly ought to go and work for others. A man must have this salvation, and must know it, before he can work for the salvation of others. Many of you have tried hard to save yourselves; but what has been the end of it all? I remember a lady in the North of England who became quite angry when I made this remark publicly: "No one in this congregation will be saved till they stop trying to save themselves." Down she came from the gallery, and said to me: "You have made me perfectly miserable." "Indeed," I said, "how is that?" "Why, I always thought that if I kept on trying, God would save me at some time; and now you tell me to stop trying: what, then, am I to do?" "Why, let the Lord save you." She went off in something like a rage. It is not always a bad sign when you see a man or a woman wake up cross, if it is the Word of God that wakes them up. A day or two afterwards she came and thanked me. She said she had been turning over in her mind what I had said; and at last the truth dawned upon her, that though she had worked long, though she had formed a good many resolutions, she had made no progress. So she gave up the struggle; and then it was that the Lord Jesus saved her. I want to ask you this question: If sin needs forgiveness--and all sin is against God--how can you work out your own forgiveness? If I stole $100 from a friend, I could not forgive myself, could I? No act of mine would bring about forgiveness, unless my friend forgave me. And so, if I want forgiveness of sin, it must be the work of God. If we look at salvation as a new life, it must be the work of God. God is the author of life: you cannot give yourself life. If we consider it as a gift, it must come from some one outside of ourselves. That is what I read in the Bible--Salvation as a gift. While I am speaking, you can make up your mind that you will stop trying, and take this gift. I wish I could get this whole audience to drop the word _try_, and put the word _trust_ in its place. The forgiving grace of God is wonderful. He will save you this very minute, if you are willing to be saved. He delights in mercy. He wants to show that mercy to every soul. The religion of Christ is not man working his way up to God; it is God coming down to man. It is Christ coming down to the pit of sin and woe where we are, bringing us out of the pit, putting our feet upon a rock, and a new song in our mouth. He will do it this minute, while I am speaking, if you will let Him. Will you let Him? That is the question. I do not believe much in dreams; but they sometimes illustrate a point. I heard about a woman who had been trying for a long time, just like many of you, to be better and better. She tried to save herself, but made no progress. One night she fell asleep in a very troubled state of mind, and she had a dream. She thought that she was in a pit striving to get out--climbing and slipping, climbing and slipping, climbing and slipping; at last she gave up the struggle, and laid herself down at the bottom of the pit to die. She happened to look up, and she saw through the mouth of the pit a beautiful star. She fixed her eye on it; and it seemed as if the star lifted her up till she was almost out. But the thought of herself came to her mind; she looked off at the sides of the pit: immediately she lost sight of the star, and down to the bottom of the pit she went. Again she fixed her eye on the star; and again it seemed to lift her almost out. But once again she took her eye off the star, and looked at herself; down into the pit she fell again! The third time she fixed her eye on the star and was lifted higher and higher, until all at once her feet struck the ground above, and she awoke from her sleep. God taught her a lesson by the dream. She learned that if ever she was to be saved, she must give up the struggle, and let Jesus Christ save her. My friends, give up the struggle today! You have tried long and hard. It has been a hard battle, has it not? Give it up; and repose in the arms of Jesus Christ. Say "Lord, I come to thee as a poor sinner; wilt Thou not save me and help me?" "The gift of God is eternal life." It is offered to all: who will have it? I see some children here: let me tell you a story. If you have not heard it before, please do not forget it. A Sunday school teacher wished to show his class how free the gift of God is. He took a silver watch from his pocket one day, and offered it to the eldest boy in the class. "It is yours, if you will take it." The little fellow sat and grinned at the teacher. He thought he was joking. The teacher offered it to the next boy, and said: "Take that watch: it is yours." The little fellow thought he would be laughed at if he held out his hand, and therefore he sat still. In the same way the teacher went nearly round the class: but not one of them would accept the proffered gift. At length he came to the smallest boy. When the watch was offered to the little fellow, he took it and put it into his pocket. All the class laughed at him. "I am thankful, my boy," said the teacher, "that you believe my word. The watch is yours. Take good care of it. Wind it up every night." The rest of the class looked on in amazement; and one of them said: "Teacher, you don't mean that the watch is his? You don't mean that he hasn't to give it back to you?" "No," said the teacher, "he hasn't to give it back to me. It is his own now." "Oh--h--h! if I had only known that, wouldn't I have taken it!" I see you laugh; but my friends you are laughing at yourselves. You need not go far away to find these boys. Salvation is freely offered to all, but the trouble is that men do not believe God's Word, and do not accept the gift. Who will accept it now? I found a few lines the other day on this point that I thought very good. I will close with them: "I would not work my soul to save, For that my Lord hath done; But I would work like any slave, For love of God's dear Son." CHAPTER IV. GRACE ABOUNDING TO THE CHIEF OF SINNERS. I WANT to lay emphasis on the fact that God desires to show mercy to all. Christ's last command to His disciples was, "Go ye into _all_ the world and preach the Gospel to _every_ creature." There may be some hearing me who have not received this grace, though it has often been pressed on their acceptance. One reason why many do not become partakers of this grace is that they think they can do better without it. The Jews said they were the seed of Abraham. They had Moses and the Law: therefore they had no need of the pardoning grace of God that Christ had come to bring. We read in the book of Revelation of a church that said it was "rich, and increased in goods, and had need of nothing." That was the trouble when Christ was down here. Instead of coming to Him to be blessed, the people too often went away thinking and saying they had no need of His favor and blessing. THE TWO PRAYERS. In the Gospel by Luke Christ brings two men before us. I do not know that we can get any two cases in Scripture that will give us more light on this subject than those of the Pharisee and the Publican, who went into the temple to pray. One went away as empty as he came. He was like the church described in Revelation, to which I have referred. He went into the temple desiring nothing; and he got nothing. The other man asked for something; he asked for pardon and mercy. And he went down to his house justified. Take the prayer of the Pharisee. There is no confession in it, no adoration, no contrition, no petition. As I have said, he asked for nothing and he got nothing. Some one has said that he went into the temple not to pray but to boast. The sun and the moon were as far apart as these two men. One was altogether of a different spirit to the other. The one prayed with his head, and the other with his heart. The one told God what a wonderfully great and good man he was: "I am not as other men or even as this publican." His prayer was not a long one; it consisted of thirty-four words; yet there were five capital "I's" in it. It was self in the beginning, self in the middle, self in the end--self all through. "'I fast twice a week;' 'I give tithes of all I possess;' I am a wonderfully good man, am I not, Lord?" He struck a balance twice a week, and God was his debtor every time. He paraded his good deeds before God and man. Such a one was not in a condition to receive the favor of God. You can divide the human family to-day into two classes--pharisees and publicans. There are those who are poor in spirit: the dew of God's grace will fall upon them. There are others who are drawing around them the rags of their self-righteousness: they will always go away without the blessing of God. There were but seven words in the prayer of the Publican: "God be merciful to me a sinner!" He came to God confessing his sins, and asking for mercy; and he received it. If you were to run through Scripture, you would find that where men have gone to God in the spirit of the Publican, He has dealt with them in mercy and grace. A young man came to one of our meetings in New York a few years ago. He was convicted of sin; and he made up his mind he would go home and pray. He lived a number of miles away, and he started for home. On the way, as he was meditating about his sins and wondering what he was going to do when he got home, the thought occurred to him: "Why should I not pray right here in the street?" But he found he did not know just how to begin. Then he remembered that when he was a child, his mother had taught him this prayer of the Publican: "God be merciful to me a sinner!" So he began just where he stood. He said afterwards, that before he got to the little word "me," God met him in grace, and blessed him. And so the moment we open our lips to ask God for pardon, if the request comes from the heart, God will meet us in mercy. Let our cry be that of the Publican: "Be merciful _to me!_"--not to some one else. A mother was telling me some time ago that she had trouble with one of her sons, because he had not treated his brother rightly. She sent him upstairs; and after awhile she asked him what he had been doing. He replied that he had been _praying for his brother!_ Although he had been the naughty one, he was acting as if the fault lay with his brother instead of himself. So many of us can see the failings of others readily enough but when we get a good look at ourselves, we will get down before God as the Publican did and cry for mercy: and that cry will bring an immediate answer. God delights to deal in grace with the poor in spirit. He wants to see in us a broken and contrite heart. If we take the place of a sinner, confessing our sins and asking for mercy, the grace of God will meet us right then and there; and we shall have the assurance of His forgiveness. In Matthew we see how God deals in grace with those who come in the right spirit. "Then came she and worshipped Him, saying, Lord, help me!" But he answered and said, "It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs." And she said, "Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's table." Then Jesus answered and said unto her, "O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt. And her daughter was made whole from that very hour." The disciples did not understand how full of grace was the heart of Christ. This poor woman belonged to the far-off coasts of Tyre and Sidon. She was a poor Gentile, and they wanted to send her away. They thought she was not one of the elect; she did not belong to the house of Israel. So they said to the Master, "Send her away, for she crieth after us." Can you conceive of the loving Saviour sending away a poor troubled one who comes to Him? I challenge you to find a single instance of His doing such a thing, from the beginning to the end of His ministry. Send her away! I believe He would rather send an angel away than a poor suppliant for His mercy; He delighted to have such as she come to Him. But He was going to test her, as well as to give an object-lesson to those who should come after. "It is not meet," He said, "to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs." A HUMBLE SPIRIT. I am afraid if some of us had been in her place we would have answered somewhat in this fashion: "You call me a Gentile dog, do you? I would not take anything from you now if you were to give it to me. Why, I know a Jewish woman who lives in my town. Though she is a daughter of Abraham she is the meanest woman in the whole street. I would not let my dogs associate with her." If this poor woman had replied to the Master in such a fashion, she would not have got anything. Yet you will find a good many men who respond to the Saviour in that way when He wants to deal in grace with them. What does this Gentile woman say? "Truth Lord; yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters' table." She took her right place down at the feet of the blessed Master. There was humility for you! She was willing to take any place if the Lord would but meet her need; the Lord blessed her. See asked for a crumb, and He gave her a whole loaf! I once heard Rev. William Arnot say that he was the guest of a friend who had a favorite dog. The animal would come into the room where the family were sitting at the dinner table and would stand looking at his master. If the master threw him a crumb, the dog would seize it before it got to the floor. But if he put the joint of meat down on the floor the dog would look at it and leave it alone, as if it were too good for him. "So," said Mr. Arnot, "there are many Christians who are satisfied to live on crumbs, when God wants to give them the whole joint." A FULL BLESSING. This poor woman got all she wanted; and if we will come in the right spirit--if we are humble and poor in spirit--and call upon God for what we want, He will not disappoint us. She went right to the Son of God, and appealed to His great loving heart with the cry, "Lord help me!" and he helped her. Let that cry go up to him today, and see how quickly the answer will come. I never knew a case where God did not answer right on the spot, where there was the spirit of meekness. If on the other hand we are conceited, and think we have a right to come, putting ourselves on an equality with God, we shall get nothing. "WORTHINESS." In the Gospel by Luke we read of the centurion who had a sick servant. He felt as though he were not worthy to go himself and ask Christ to come to his house; so he asked some of his friends to beseech the Master to come and heal his servant. They went and delivered the centurion's message, saying, "He is worthy for whom Thou shouldst do this: for he loveth our nation, and he hath built us a synagogue." The Jews could not understand grace; so they thought Christ would grant the request of this man, because he was worthy. "Why," they said, "he hath built us a synagogue!" It is the same old story that we hear to-day. Let a man give a few thousand dollars to build a church and he must have the best pew; "he is worthy." Perhaps he made his money by selling or making strong drink; but he has put the Church under an obligation by this gift of money, and he is considered "worthy." The same spirit was at work in the days of Christ. The Master immediately started for the centurion's house; and it looked as though He were going because of his personal worthiness. But if He had done so, it would have upset the whole story as an illustration of grace. As the Saviour was on the way, out came the Roman officer himself and told Jesus that he was not worthy to receive Him under his roof. He had a very different opinion of himself to that of his Jewish friends. Suppose he had said, "Lord, you will be my guest; come and heal my servant because I am worthy: I have built a synagogue." Do you think Christ would have gone? I do not think he would. But he said, "I am not worthy that Thou shouldst enter under my roof. Neither thought I myself worthy to come unto Thee; but say in a word, and my servant shall be healed." Jesus marveled at the man's faith. It pleased Him wonderfully to find such faith and humility. Like the Syro-Phenician woman, he had low thoughts of himself, and high thoughts of God: therefore he was in a condition to receive the grace of God. His servant, we are told, was healed that very hour. His petition was granted at once. Let us learn a lesson from this man, and take a humble position before God, crying to him for mercy; then help will come. GREAT FORGIVENESS. I never noticed till lately an interesting fact about the story of the poor sinful woman mentioned in Luke's Gospel, who went into Simon's house. If you have not observed it before, it will be quite interesting for you to know it. The incident occurred immediately after Christ had uttered those memorable words we read in Matthew: "Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew closes the narrative there; but in the seventh chapter of Luke you will find what the result of that invitation was. A poor fallen woman came into the house where He was, and obtained the blessing of rest to her soul. I think that many ministers will bear me out in this statement, that when one has preached to a large congregation, and has given an invitation to those who would like to remain and talk about salvation, probably the only one to do so is a poor fallen one, who will thus become a partaker of the grace of God. We find that the Saviour was invited to the house of Simon, a Pharisee. While he was there, this poor sinful woman crept into the house. Perhaps she watched for a chance when the servants were away from the door, and then slipped into the room where the Master was. She got down on her knees, and began to wash his feet with her tears, wiping them with the hairs of her head. While the feast was going on the Pharisee saw this; and he said to himself: "Jesus must be a bad man, if He knows who this poor woman is. Even if He did not know, He would be unclean according to the Mosaic law"--because he had allowed the woman to touch Him. But the Master knew what Simon was thinking about. He put some questions to him: "And Jesus answering said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And he saith, Master, say on. There was a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most? Simon answered and said, I suppose that he to whom he forgave most. And He said unto him, Thou hast rightly judged." Then He makes the application, "I came to your house," He says, "and you gave me no water for my feet; you gave me no kiss; and no oil for my head. You refused me the common hospitalities of life." In those days when one went into a gentleman's house, a servant would be at the door with a basin of water; the guest would slip off his sandals, and the servant would wash his feet. Then the master of the house would salute him with a kiss instead of shaking hands as we do. There would also be oil for his head. Christ had been invited to Simon's house; but the Pharisee had got Him there in a patronizing spirit. "You gave me no water, no kiss, no oil; but this woman hath washed my feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head: she hath not ceased to kiss my feet, and she hath anointed them with ointment. She was forgiven much: and so she loves much." To the poor woman herself Jesus said, "Thy sins are forgiven." They may have risen up like a dark mountain before her; but one word from the Saviour and they were all gone! The spirit shown by Simon was altogether different from that of the poor woman. Christ said that the publicans and harlots would go into the kingdom of God before the self-righteous Pharisees! Simon, the Pharisee, got nothing; and so there are many who go away from religious meetings without one drop of heaven's dew, because they do not seek for it. From the morning of the creation down to the present time no man or woman ever went to God with a broken heart without experiencing the forgiving love and grace of God, if they believed His Word. It was so with this poor woman. Notice, the Master did not extract any pledge or promise from her. He did not ask her to join some synagogue; all He said was, "Thy sins are forgiven thee." She found grace. So it was with the Syro-Phenician woman. Christ did not ask any pledge from her; He met her in grace, and blessed her according to her soul's desire. You know what touched the heart of the father of the prodigal; it was the broken and contrite spirit of his returning son. Would not the same thing move the heart of any parent here? Suppose you had a son who had gone astray: the boy comes home; and when you meet him he begins to confess his sin. Would you not take him to your bosom and forgive him? Nothing in the wide world would you more readily do than forgive him. So if we come to God with this contrite spirit, He will deal in grace with us and receive us freely, When Saul left Jerusalem, there was nothing he wished for less than to receive the grace of God. Yet the moment he said, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" the forgiving grace of the Master flowed out towards him. We are told by Matthew and Mark that the thief on the cross, who was converted, railed on the Saviour at first like the other: but the moment his heart was broken down and he said, "Lord, remember me!" that very moment Christ heard and answered his prayer. God is waiting to cover all your sins today; He has a long and a strong arm that can reach down to the darkest, vilest, deepest depths of sin. He will lift you up on a rock, and put a new song into your mouth. Will you let him do it? A man was telling me some time ago that he had prayed for over ten years that God would have mercy upon him. "Has not God answered your prayer?" "No." "Indeed! Let me ask you one question: suppose I offered you that Bible as a gift, and you were afterwards to come and ask me for it; what would I think of you?" "I do not know what you would think." "Well, but what do you suppose I would think?" "You would perhaps think I had gone a little wrong in my head." "What is the use of your asking that God would deal in grace with you, if you are not willing to receive it; or if you do not believe that He gives it to you?" When I was on the Pacific coast some years ago, I stayed with a friend who had a large garden, with a great many orange trees. He said to me: "Make yourself perfectly at home; if you see anything you want just help yourself." When I wanted some oranges, I did not go into the garden and pray to the oranges to tumble into my mouth; I just put out my hand and took all I required. So it is with us. Why should we go on asking and beseeching God to have mercy upon us, when He has already given His Son, and given His Holy Spirit? What we need is to have a broken and a contrite heart, and to be willing to receive Him. The trouble with us is that we have locked the doors of our hearts against Him. There is a story that Dr. Arnot was accustomed to tell of a poor woman who was in great distress because she could not pay her landlord his rent. The Doctor put some money in his pocket and went round to her house intending to help her. When he got there he knocked at the door. He thought he heard some movement inside; but no one came to open the door. He knocked louder and louder still; but yet no one came. Finally he kicked at the door, causing some of neighbors to look out and see what was going on. But he could get no entrance; and at last he went away thinking his ears must have deceived him, and that there was really no one there. A day or two afterwards he met the woman in the street, and told her what had happened. She held up her hands and exclaimed, "Was that you? I was in the house all the while; but I thought it was the landlord, and I had the door locked!" Many people are keeping the door of their heart locked against the Saviour in just the same way. They say "I am afraid I shall have to give up so much." That is something like a ragged beggar being unwilling to give up his rags, in order to get a new suit of good clothes. I pity those people who are all the time looking to see what they will have to give up. God wants to bestow His marvelous grace on His people; and there is not a soul who has believed on Jesus, for whom God has not abundance of grace in store. What would you say of a man dying of thirst on the banks of a beautiful river, with the stream flowing past his feet? You would think he was mad! The river of God's grace flows on without ceasing; why should we not partake of it, and go on our way rejoicing? Do you say you are sinners? It is just to such as you that God's grace is given. There was a sailor whose mother had long been praying for him. I do think mothers' prayers are sure to be answered some day. One night the memory of his mother came home to this man; he thought of the days of his childhood, and made up his mind he would try and lead a different life. When he got to New York he thought he would join the Odd-fellows; he imagined that would be a good way to begin. What miserable mistakes men make when they get trying to save themselves! This man applied to a lodge of Odd-fellows for admission; but the committee found that he was a drinking man, and so they black-balled him. Then he thought he would try the Freemasons; they discovered what sort of a man he was, and they black-balled him too. One day he was walking along Fulton Street, when he received an invitation to come to the daily prayer-meeting held there. He went in, and heard about the Saviour; he received Christ into his heart, and found the peace and power he wanted. Some days after he stood up in the meeting and told the story how the Odd-fellows had black-balled him; how the Freemasons had black-balled him; and how he came to the Lord Jesus Christ, who had not black-balled him, but took him right in. That is what Christ will do to every poor penitent sinner. "This Man receiveth sinners." Come to Him to-day, and He will receive you: His marvelous, sovereign grace will cover and put away all your sins. I am so glad that we have a Saviour who can save unto the very uttermost. He can save the drunkard, the man who for years has been the slave of his passions. I was talking to a friend not long ago, who said that if a man had a father and a mother who were drunkards, he would inherit the taste for drink, and that there was not much chance of saving him. I want to say that there is a grand chance for such men, if they will call upon Jesus Christ to save them. He is able to destroy the very appetite for drink. He came to destroy the works of the devil; and if this appetite for gin and whiskey is not the work of the devil, I want to know what is. I do not know any more terrible agency that the devil has got than this intoxicating liquor. An Englishman went out from England to Chicago, and became one of the greatest drunkards in that city. His father and his mother were drunkards before him. He said that when he was four years old, his father took him into a public-house, and put the liquor to his lips. By and by he got a taste for it; and for several years he was a confirmed drunkard. He became what in America we call a "tramp." He slept out of doors. One night, on the shore of a lake, he awoke from his slumber, and began to call upon God to save him. There, at the midnight hour, this poor, wretched, forlorn object got victory over his sin. The last time I met him he had been nine-and-a-half years a sober man. From that memorable midnight hour, he said, he had never had any desire to touch or taste strong drink. God had kept him all those years. I am so thankful we have a Gospel that we can carry into the home of the drunkard, and tell him that Christ will save him. That is the very thing He came to do. Bunyan represents the power of grace, as shown by its first offer to the Jerusalem sinners, the murderers of Christ, thus: "Repent, every one of you: be baptized, every one of you, in His name, for the remission of sins; and you shall, every one of you, receive the Holy Ghost." "But I was one of those who plotted to take away His life. May I be saved by Him?" "Every one of you." "But I was one of those who bore false witness against Him. Is there grace for me?" "For every one of you." "But I was one of those who cried out, Crucify Him! crucify Him! and who desired that Barrabas, the murderer, might live, rather than He. What will become of me, think you?" "I am to preach repentance and remission of sins to every one of you." "But I was one of those who did spit in His face when He stood before His accusers; I also was one that mocked Him when, in anguish, He hung bleeding on the tree. Is there room for me?" "For every one of you." "But I was one of those who, in His extremity, said, Give Him gall and vinegar to drink! Why may I not expect the same when pain and anguish are upon me?" "Repent of these thy wickednesses; and here is remission of sins for every one of you." "But I railed on Him; I reviled Him; I hated Him; I rejoiced to see Him mocked at by others. Can there be hope for me?" "There is; for every one of you." Oh, what a blessed "Every-one-of-you" is here! How willing was Peter and the Lord Jesus by the ministry of Peter--to catch these murderers with the word of the Gospel, that they might be monuments of the grace of God! Now it is a solemn fact that every one who receives the offer of the Gospel can lock and bolt the door of his heart, and say to the Lord Jesus Christ he refuses to let Him in. But it is also a blessed truth that you can unlock that door and say to Him, "Welcome! thrice welcome, Son of God, into this heart of mine!" The question is: Will you let Christ come in and save you? It is not a question of whether He is able. Who will open their hearts, and let the Saviour come in? "There's a stranger at the door: Let Him in! He has been there oft before: Let Him in! Let Him in, ere He is gone; Let Him in, the Holy One, Jesus Christ, the Father's Son: Let Him in! Open now to Him your heart: Let Him in! If you wait He will depart: Let Him in! Let Him in, He is your Friend; He your soul will sure defend; He will keep you to the end: Let Him in! Hear you now His loving voice? Let Him in! Now, oh now, make Him your choice: Let Him in! He is standing at the door; Joy to you He will restore, And His name you will adore: Let Him in! Now admit the heavenly Guest. Let Him in! He will make for you a feast: Let Him in! He will speak your sins forgiven, And when earth-ties all are riven, He will take you home to heaven, Let Him in!" _Rev. J. B Atchinson_ CHAPTER V. LAW AND GRACE. IN his Epistle to the Romans, Paul writes "For as by one man's disobedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience of One shall many be made righteous. Moreover, the law entered that the offense might abound. But where sin abounded, grace did much more abound: that as sin hath reigned unto death, even so might grace reign through righteousness unto eternal life by Jesus Christ our Lord." Moses was the representative of the law. You remember that he led the children of Israel through the wilderness, and brought them to Jordan; but there he left them. He could take them up to the river, which is a type of death and judgment; but Joshua (which means Jesus--Saviour) led them right through death and judgment--through the Jordan into the Promised Land. Here we have the difference between Law and Grace; between the Law and the Gospel. Take another illustration. John the Baptist was the last prophet of the old dispensation--the last prophet under the law. You remember that before Christ made His appearance at the Jordan, the cry of John, day by day was, "Repent: for the kingdom of God is at hand!" He thundered out the law. He took his hearers down to the Jordan and baptized them. He put them in the place of death; and that was as far as he could take them. But there was One coming after him who could take them into the Promised Land. As Joshua led the people through the Jordan into Canaan,--so Christ went down into the Jordan of death, through death and judgment, on to resurrection ground. If you run all through Scripture you will find that the law brings to death. "Sin reigned unto death." A friend was telling me lately that an acquaintance of his, a minister, was once called upon to officiate at a funeral, in the place of a chaplain of one of Her Majesty's prisons, who was absent. He noticed that only one solitary man followed the body of the criminal to the grave. When the grave had been covered, this man told the minister that he was an officer of the law whose duty it was to watch the body of the culprit until it was buried out of sight; that was "the end" of the British law. And that is what the law of God does to the sinner; it brings him right to death, and leaves him there. I pity deep down in my heart those who are trying to save themselves by the law. It never has; it never will; and it never can--save the soul. When people say they are going to try and do their best, and so save themselves by the law, I like to take them on their own ground. Have they, ever done their very best? granting that there _might_ be a chance for them if they had, was there ever a time when they could not have done a little better? If a man wants to do his best, let him accept the grace of God; that is the best thing that any man or woman can possibly do. But you will ask, What is the law given for? It may sound rather strange, but it is given that it may stop every man's mouth. "We know that what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law: that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God. Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in His sight; for by the law is the knowledge of sin." The law shuts my mouth; grace opens it. The law locks up my heart; grace opens it--and then the fountain of love begins to flow out. When men get their eyes opened to see this glorious truth, they will cease their constant struggle. They will give up trying to work their way into the kingdom of God by the deeds of the law. They will give themselves up for lost, and take salvation as a free gift. Life never came through the law. As some one has observed: When the law was given, three thousand men lost life; but when grace and truth came at Pentecost, three thousand obtained life. Under the law, if a man became a drunkard the magistrates would take him out and stone him to death. When the prodigal came home, grace met him and embraced him. Law says, Stone him!--grace says, Embrace him! Law says, Smite him!--grace says, Kiss him! Law went after him, and bound him; grace said, loose him and let him go! Law tells me how crooked I am; grace comes and makes me straight. I pity those who are always hanging around Sinai, hoping to get life there. I have an old friend in Chicago who is always lingering at Sinai. He is a very good man; but I think he will have a different story to tell when he gets home to heaven. He thinks I preach free grace too much; and I must confess I do like to speak of the free grace of God. This friend of mine feels as though he has a kind of mission to follow me; and whenever he gets a chance he comes in with the thunders of Sinai. I never yet met him but he was thundering away from Horeb. The last time I was in Chicago, I said to him, "Are you still lingering around Sinai?" "Yes," said he, "I believe in the law." I have made inquiries, and I never heard of any one being converted under his preaching: the effects have always dwindled and died out. If the law is the door to heaven, there is no hope for any of us. A perfect God can only have a perfect standard. He that offends in one point is guilty of all: so "all have sinned and come short of the glory of God." Paul says to the Galatians: "Is the law then against the promises of God? God forbid: for if there had been a law given which could have given life, verily righteousness should have been by the law. But the Scripture hath concluded all under sin that the promise by faith of Jesus Christ might be given to them that believe. But before faith came, we were kept under the law, shut up unto the faith which should afterwards be revealed. Wherefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith. But after that faith is come, we are no longer under a schoolmaster. For ye are all the children of God by faith in Jesus Christ." THE SOFTENING POWER OF GRACE. So we see that the law cannot give life; all it can do is to bring us to Him who is the life. The law is said to be "a schoolmaster." Perhaps some of you do not know what a schoolmaster is. If you had been under the same schoolmaster as I was when a boy you would have known. He had a good cane and it was frequently in use. In the little country district where I went to school, there were two parties: for the sake of illustration we may call the one the "law" party and the other the "grace" party. The law party said that boys could not possibly be controlled without the cane: and they kept a schoolmaster there who acted on their plan. The struggle went on, and at last, on one election day, the law party was put out, and the grace party ruled in their stead. I happened to be at the school at that time; and I remember we said to each other that we were going to have a grand time that winter. There would be no more corporal punishment, and we were going to be ruled by love. I was one of the first to break the rules of the school. We had a lady teacher, and she asked me to stay behind. I thought the cane was coming out again; and I was going to protest against it. I was quite in a fighting mood. She took me alone. She sat down and began to talk to me kindly. I thought that was worse than the cane; I did not like it. I saw that she had not got any cane. She said: "I have made up my mind that if I cannot control the school by love, I will give it up. I will have no punishment; and if you love me, try and keep the rules of the school." I felt something right here in my throat. I was not one to shed many tears; but they would come--I could not keep them back. I said to her, "You will have no more trouble with me;" and she did not. I learned more that winter than in the other three put together. That was the difference between law and grace. Christ says, "If you love Me, keep My commandments." He takes us out from under the law, and puts us under grace. Grace will break the hardest heart. It was the love of God that prompted Him to send His only-begotten Son into the world that He might save it. I suppose the thief had gone through his trial unsoftened. Probably the law had hardened his heart. But on the cross no doubt that touching prayer of the Saviour, "Father, forgive them!" broke his heart, so that he cried, "Lord, remember me!" He was brought to ask for mercy. I believe there is no man so far gone but the grace of God will melt his heart. It is told of Isaac T. Hopper, the Quaker, that he once encountered a profane colored man, named Cain, in Philadelphia, and took him before a magistrate, who fined him for blasphemy. Twenty years after, Hopper met Cain, whose appearance was much changed for the worse. This touched the Friend's heart. He stepped up, spoke kindly, and shook hands with the forlorn being. "Dost thou remember me," said the Quaker, "how I had thee fined for swearing?" "Yes, indeed, I do: I remember what I paid as well as if it was yesterday." "Well, did it do thee any good?" "No, never a bit: it made me mad to have my money taken from me." Hopper invited Cain to reckon up the interest on the fine, and paid him principal and interest too. "I meant it for thy good, Cain; and I am sorry I did thee any harm." Cain's countenance changed; the tears rolled down his cheeks. He took the money with many thanks, became a quiet man, and was not heard to swear again. PEACE, GRACE AND GLORY. So there is a great deal of difference between law and grace. "Being justified by faith we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ; by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God." There are three precious things here: peace for the past; grace for the present; and glory for the future. There is no peace until we see the finished work of Jesus Christ--until we can look back and see the Cross of Christ between us and our sins. When we see that Jesus was "the end of the law for righteousness;" that He "tasted death for every man;" that He "suffered the Just for the unjust"--then comes peace. Then there is "the grace wherein we now stand." There is plenty of grace for us as we need it day by day, and hour by hour. Then there is glory for the time to come. A great many people seem to forget that the best is before us. Dr. Bonar says that everything before the true believer is "glorious." This thought took hold of my soul; and I began to look the matter up, and see what I could find in Scripture that was glorious hereafter. I found that the kingdom we are going to inherit is glorious: our crown is to be a "crown of glory;" the city we are going to inhabit is the city of the glorified; the songs we are to sing are the songs of the glorified; we are to wear garments of "glory and beauty;" our society will be the society of the glorified; our rest is to be "glorious;" the country to which we are going is to be full of "the glory of God and of the Lamb." There are many who are always looking on the backward path, and mourning over the troubles through which they have passed; they keep lugging up the cares and anxieties they have been called on to bear, and are forever looking at them. Why should we go reeling and staggering under the burdens and cares of life when we have such prospects before us? If there is nothing but glory beyond, our faces ought to shine brightly all the time. If a skeptic were to come up here and watch the countenances of the audience he would find many of you looking as though there was anything but glory before you. Many a time it seems to me as if I were at a funeral, people look so sad and downcast. They do not appear to know much of the joy of the Lord. Surely if we were looking right on to the glory that awaits us, our faces would be continually lit up with the light of the upper world. We can preach by our countenances if we will. The nearer we draw to that glory-land, where we shall be with Christ--the more peace, and joy, and rest we ought to have. If we will but come to the throne of grace, we shall have strength to bear all our troubles and trials. If you were to take all the afflictions that flesh is heir to and put them right on any one of us, God has grace enough to carry us right through without faltering. Some one has compiled the following, which beautifully describes the contrast between law and grace: The Law was given by Moses. Grace and truth came by Jesus Christ. The Law says--This do, and thou shalt live. Grace says--Live, and then thou shalt do. The Law says--Pay me that thou owest. Grace says--I frankly forgive thee all. The Law says--The wages of sin is death. GRACE says--The gift of God is eternal life. The Law says--The soul that sinneth, it shall die. Grace says--Whosoever believeth in Jesus, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in Him shall never die. The Law pronounces--Condemnation and death. Grace proclaims--Justification and life. The Law says--Make you a new heart and a new spirit. Grace says--A new heart will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you. The Law says--Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them. Grace says--Blessed is the man whose iniquities are forgiven, whose sin is covered; blessed is the man to whom the Lord will not impute iniquity. The Law says--Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength. Grace says--Herein is love: not that we love God, but that He loved us, and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. The Law speaks of what man must do for God. Grace tells of what Christ has done for man. The Law addresses man as part of the old creation. Grace makes a man a member of the new creation. The Law bears on a nature prone to disobedience. Grace creates a nature inclined to obedience. The Law demands obedience by the terror of the Lord. Grace beseeches men by the mercies of God. The Law demands holiness. Grace gives holiness. The Law says--Condemn him. Grace says--Embrace him. The Law speaks of priestly sacrifices offered year by year continually, which could never make the comers thereunto perfect. Grace says--But this _Man_, after he had offered _one_ sacrifice for sins forever . . . by one offering hath perfected forever them that are sanctified. The Law declares--That as many as have sinned in the Law, shall be judged by the Law. Grace brings eternal peace to the troubled soul of every child of God, and proclaims _God's_ salvation in defiance of the accusations of the adversary. "He that heareth My word, and believeth on Him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment (condemnation), but is passed from death unto life." "Whence to me this tranquil spirit-- Me all sinful as I am? Is it thus descends the merit Of the sin-atoning Lamb? Grace, all power to deliver, Gift of a Creative Giver, Like a full, refreshing river, Ever flowing. Over all my course of sinning Spread its waters without bound, Cleansing, fertilizing, winning For the Lord the barren ground. Lavish from the heavenly treasure, Fountains of a Father's pleasure, All the marks of human measure Overflowing. Not my virtue or repenting Earned the precious boon for me. Thine, my Saviour, the relenting, Thine the pangs which set me free-- Gift of grace beyond all knowing, From the heart of Jesus flowing, Ever flowing, overflowing, Flowing freely." CHAPTER VI. GRACE FOR LIVING. NOW we come to a very important part of our subject--Grace for living. One of the saddest things in the present day is the fact that so many professed Christians have no spiritual power. They bear no testimony for Christ. There are so few who can go to the homes of the sick and read the Bible to them, pray with them, and minister comfort to their souls. How few can go to the abode of the drunkard, and tell him of Christ's power to save! How few there are who are wise in winning souls to Christ! It is the low spiritual state of so many in the Church of Christ that is the trouble. We are not living up to our privileges. As you go through the streets of London you will see here and there the words, "Limited Company." There are many Christians who practically limit the grace of God. It is like a river flowing by; and we can have all we need: but if we do not come and get a continual supply, we cannot give it out to others. Mother! father! are you not longing to see your children won to Christ? What is the trouble? Is it the fault of the minister? I believe that though ministers were to preach like angels, if there is a low standard of Christian life in the home, there will be little accomplished. What we want, more than anything else, is more grace in our lives, in our business affairs, in our homes, in our daily walk and conversation. I cannot but believe that the reason of the standard of Christian life being so low, is that we are living on stale manna. You know what I mean by that. So many people are living on their past experience--thinking of the grand times they had twenty years ago, perhaps when they were converted. It is a sure sign that we are out of communion with God if we are talking more of the joy, and peace, and power, we had in the past, than of what we have to-day. We are told to "grow in grace;" but a great many are growing the wrong way. You remember the Israelites used to gather the manna fresh every day: they were not allowed to store it up. There is a lesson here for us Christians. If we would be strong and vigorous, we must go to God daily and get grace. A man can no more take in a supply of grace for the future than he can eat enough to-day to last him for the next six months; or take sufficient air into his lungs at once to sustain life for a week to come. We must draw upon God's boundless stores of grace from day to day, as we need it. I knew a man who lived on the banks of Lake Erie. He had pipes laid to his house from the lake; and when he wanted water, all he had to do was to turn the tap and the water flowed in. If the Government had presented him with the lake, he would not have known what to do with it. So we may say that if God were to give us grace enough for a lifetime, we should not know how to use it. He has given us the privilege of drawing on Him day by day--not "forty days after sight." There is plenty of grace in the bank of heaven; we need not be afraid of its becoming exhausted. We are asked to come _boldly_ to the throne of grace--as sons to a father--that we may find grace. You have noticed that a son is very much more bold in his father's house than if he were simply a servant. A good many Christians are like servants. If you go into a house, you can soon tell the difference between the family and the servants. A son comes home in the evening; he goes all over the house--perhaps talks about the letters that have come in, and wants to know all that has been going on in the family during his absence. It is very different with a servant, who perhaps does not leave the kitchen or the servants' hall all day except when duty requires it. Suppose some one had paid a million dollars into the bank in your name, and had given you a check-book so that you could draw out just as you wanted: would you go to work and try to live on ten dollars a month? Yet that is exactly what many of us are doing as Christians. I believe this low standard of Christian life in the Church is doing more to manufacture infidels than all the skeptical books that were ever written. Hear what the Apostle says: "My God shall supply _all_ your need." Look at these words carefully. It does not say He will supply all your _wants_. There are many things we want that God has not promised to give. It is "your _need_" and "_all_ your need." My children often want many things they do not get; but I supply all they need, if it is in my power to give it to them. I do not supply all their wants by any means. My boy would probably want to have me give him a horse; when I know that what he really needs, perhaps, is grace to control his temper. Our children might want many things that it would be injurious for them to have. And so, though God may withhold from us many things that we desire, He will supply all our need. There can come upon us no trouble or trial in this life, but God has grace enough to carry us right through it, if we will only go to Him and get it. But we must ask for it day by day. "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." I met a man once in Scotland who taught me a lesson that I shall never forget. A Christian friend wanted me to go and have a talk with him. He had been bedridden for many years. This afflicted saint comforted me and told me some wonderful things. He had fallen and broken his back when he was about fifteen years of age, and had lain there on his bed for some forty years. He could not be moved without a good deal of pain, and probably not a day has passed all those years without suffering. If any one had told him he was going to lie there and suffer for forty years, probably he would have said he could not do it. But day after day the grace of God has been granted to him; and I declare to you it seemed to me as if I were in the presence of one of God's most highly-favored children. It seemed that when I was in that man's chamber, I was about as near heaven as I could get on this earth. Talk about a man's face shining with the glory of the upper world! I very seldom see a face that shines as did his. I can imagine that the very angels when they are passing over the city on some mission of mercy, come down into that man's chamber to get refreshed. There he has been lying all these years, not only without a murmur, but rejoicing all the while. I said to him: "My friend, does the devil never tempt you to doubt God, and to think He is a hard master?" "Well now," he said, "that is just what he tries to do. Sometimes, as I look out of the window and see people walking along in health, Satan whispers: 'If God is so good, why does He keep you here all these weary years? Why, if He loved you, instead of lying here and being dependent on others, you might now have been a rich man, and riding in your own carriage.'" "What do you do when the devil tempts you?" "Oh, I just take him up to the Cross; and he had such a fright there eighteen hundred years ago, that he cannot stand it; and he leaves me." I do not think that bedridden saint has much trouble with doubts; he is so full of grace. And so if we will only come boldly to God, we shall get all the help and strength we need. There is not a man or woman alive but may be kept from falling, if they will let God hold them up in His almighty arms. There is a story in the history of Elisha the prophet that I am very fond of; most of you are familiar with it. Sometimes we meet with people who hesitate to accept Christ, because they are so afraid they will not hold out. You remember there was a young prophet who died and left a widow with two little boys. It has been said that misfortunes do not come singly, but in battalions. This woman had not only lost her husband, but a creditor was going to take her boys and sell them into slavery. That was a common thing in those days. The widow went and told Elisha all about it. He asked her what she had in the house. Nothing, she said, but a pot of oil. It was a very hard case. Elisha told her to go home and borrow all the vessels she could. His command was: "Borrow not a few." I like that. She took him at his word, and borrowed all the vessels her neighbors would lend to her. I can imagine I see the woman and her two sons going from house to house asking the loan of their vessels. No doubt there were a good many of the neighbors who were stretching their necks, and wondering what it all meant; just as we sometimes find people coming into the inquiry-room to see what is going on. If this woman had been like some modern skeptics, she would have thought it very absurd for the prophet to bid her do such a thing; she would have asked what good could come of it. But faith asks no questions: so she went and did what the man of God told her to do. I can see her going up one side of the street knocking at every door and asking for empty vessels. "How many do you want?" "All you can spare." There are the two sons carrying the great vessels; some of them perhaps nearly as large as the boys themselves. It was hard work. When they had finished one side of the street, they went down the other. "Borrow not a few," she had been told; so she went on asking for as many as she could get. If there were as much gossip in those days as there is now, all the people in the street would have been talking about her. Why, this woman and her boys have been carrying vessels into the house all day; what can be the matter? But now they have all the vessels the neighbors would lend. She locks the door; and she says to one of the boys, "James, you are the younger; bring me the empty vessels. John, you are the stronger; when, I have filled them you take them away." So she began to pour. Perhaps the first vessel was twice as big as the one she poured from; but it was soon filled: and she kept on pouring into vessel after vessel. At last her son says, "Mother, this is the last one;" and we are told that the oil was not stayed till the last vessel was full. Dear friends, bring your empty vessels; and God will fill them. I venture to say that the eyes of those boys sparkled as they saw this beautiful oil, fresh from the hand of the Creator. The woman went and told the man of God what had happened; he said to her, "Go, sell the oil, and pay thy debt; and live thou and thy children off the rest." That is grace for the present, and for the future. "As thy days so shall thy strength be." You will have grace not only to cover all your sins, but to carry you right into glory. Let the grace of God into your heart; and He will bring you safely through. Let me close by quoting the words of an old prayer: "God give us grace to see our need of grace; give us grace to ask for grace; give us grace to receive grace; give us grace to use the grace we have received." "Grace taught my soul to pray, And pardoning love to know; 'Twas grace that kept me to this day, And will not let me go. Grace all the work shall crown, Through everlasting days; It lays in heaven the topmost stone, And well deserves the praise!" CHAPTER VII. GRACE FOR SERVICE. "FOR the grace of God that bringeth salvation to all men hath appeared; teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works." In this wonderful passage we see grace in a threefold aspect: grace that bringeth salvation; grace for holy living; and grace for service. I have had three red-letter days in my experience: the first was, when I was converted; the next was when I got my lips opened, and I began to confess Christ; the third was, when I began to work for the salvation of others. I think there are a great many who have got to the first stage; some have got to the second; very few have got to the third. This is the reason, I believe, why the world is not reached. Many say they are anxious to "grow in grace." I do not think they ever will, until they go out into the harvest field and begin to work for others. We are not going to have the grace we need to qualify us for work until we launch out into the deep, and begin to use the abilities and the opportunities we already possess. Many fold their arms, and wait for the grace of God to come to them; but we do not get it in that way. When we "go forward," then it is that God meets us with His Grace. If Moses had stayed in Horeb until he got the grace he needed, he never would have started for Egypt at all. But when he had set out, God met him in the way and blessed him day by day as he needed. Many grow discouraged because there is a little opposition; but if we are going to work for God we must expect opposition. No real work was ever done for God without opposition. If you think that you are going to have the approval of a godless world, and of cold Christians, as you launch out into the deep with your net, you are greatly mistaken. A man said to me some time ago, that when he was converted he commenced to do some work in connection with the Church; he was greatly discouraged because some of the older Christians threw cold water on him, so he gave up the whole thing. I pity a man who cannot take a little cold water without being any the worse for it. Why, many of the Christians in old times had to go through the fire, and did not shrink from it. A little cold water never hurts any one. Others say they have so many cares and troubles, they have as much as they can carry. Well, a good way to forget your trouble is--to go and help some one else who is carrying a heavier burden than yourself. It was when Job began to pray for his friends that he forgot his own troubles. Paul gloried in his infirmity, and in the tribulations he had to undergo, so that the power of Christ might all the more rest upon him. He gloried in the Cross: and you must bear in mind that the Cross was not so easy to bear in his day as it is in ours. Every one was speaking against it. "I glory in the Cross of Christ," he said. When a man gets to that point, do you tell me that God cannot use him to build up His kingdom? In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul speaks of "the thorn in the flesh;" he prayed the Lord to take it away. The Lord said He was not going to take it away: but He would give His servant grace to bear it. So the apostle learned to thank God for the thorn, because he got more grace. It is when the days are dark that people are brought nearer to God. I suppose that is what Paul meant. If there is any child of God who has a "thorn in the flesh," God has grace enough to help you to bear it if you will but go to Him for it. The difficulty is that so many are looking at their troubles and sorrows, instead of looking toward the glorious reward, and pressing on their way by God's help. In ii Corinthians 9:8, we read: "God is able to make all grace abound towards you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work." There are three thoughts here--God makes _all grace_ to abound, that we may have _all sufficiency_ in _all things_. I think this is one of the most wonderful verses in the Bible. There is plenty of grace. Many Christians, if they have grace enough to keep them from outward sin, seem to be perfectly satisfied; they do not press on to get _fullness of grace_, so as to be ready for God's work. Many are satisfied to go into the stream of grace ankle deep, when God wants them to swim in it. If we always came to meetings desiring to get strength, then we should be able to go out to work and speak for Christ. There are a great many who would be used of God, if they would only come boldly to His throne of grace, and "find grace to help in time of need." Is it not a time of need now? God has said, "I will pour water on him that is thirsty." Do we thirst for a deeper work of grace in our hearts?--for the anointing of the Spirit? Here is the promise: "I will pour water on him that is thirsty." Let all who are hungering and thirsting for blessing come and receive it. Another reason why many Christians do not get anything is--because they do not give out to others. They are satisfied with present attainments, instead of growing in grace. We are not the fountain; we are only a channel for the grace of God to flow through. There is not one of us but God wants to use in building up His kingdom. That little boy, that grey-haired man, these young men and maidens; all are needed: and there is a work for all. We want to believe that God has grace enough to qualify us to go out and work for Him. If we have known Jesus Christ for twenty years or more, and if we have not been able to introduce an anxious soul to Him, there has been something wrong somewhere. If we were full of grace, we should be ready for any call that comes to us. Paul said, when he had that famous interview with Christ on the way to Damascus, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" Isaiah said, "Here am I, send me." Oh that God would fill all His people with grace, so that we may see more wonderful things than He has ever permitted us to see! No man can tell what he can do, until he moves forward. If we do that in the name of God, instead of there being a few scores or hundreds converted, there will be thousands flocking into the Kingdom of God. Remember, that we honor God when we ask for great things. It is a humiliating thing to think that we are satisfied with very small results. It is said that Alexander the Great had a favorite General to whom he had given permission to draw upon the royal treasury for any amount. On one occasion this General had made a draft for such an enormous sum that the Treasurer refused to honor it until he consulted the Emperor. So he went into his presence and told him what the General had done. "Did you not honor the draft?" said the Emperor. "No; I refused till I had seen your Majesty; because the amount was so great." The Emperor was indignant. His Treasurer said that he was afraid of offending him if he had paid the amount. "Do you not know," replied the Emperor, "that he honors me and my kingdom by making a large draft?" Whether the story be authentic or not, it is true that we honor God when we ask for great things. It is said that on one occasion when Caesar gave a very valuable present, the receiver replied that it was too costly a gift. The Emperor answered that it was not too great for Caesar to give. Our God is a great King; and He delights to use us: so let us delight to ask Him for great grace, that we may go out and work for him. I find that many Christians are in trouble about the future; they think they will not have grace enough to die by. It is much more important that we should have grace enough to live by. It seems to me that death is of very little importance in the meantime. When the dying hour comes there will be dying grace; but you do not require dying grace to live by. If I am going to live perhaps for fifteen or twenty years, what do I want with dying grace? I am far more anxious about having grace enough for my present work. I have sometimes been asked if I had grace enough to enable me to go to the stake and die as a martyr. No; what do I want with martyr's grace? I do not like suffering; but if God should call on me to die a martyr's death, He would give me martyr's grace. If I have to pass through some great affliction, I know God will give me grace when the time comes; but I do not want it till it comes. There is a story of a martyr in the second century. He was brought before the king, and told that if he did not recant they would banish him. Said he, "O king, you cannot banish me from Christ; for He has said, I will never leave thee nor forsake thee!" The apostle John was banished to the island of Patmos; but it was the best thing that could have happened: for if John had not been sent there, probably we should never have had that grand Book of Revelation. John could not be separated from his Master. So it was with this brave martyr, of whom I was speaking. The king said to him, "Then I will take away your property from you." "You cannot do that: for my treasure is laid up on high, where you cannot get at it?" "Then I will kill you." "You can not do that; for I have been dead these forty years: my life is hid with Christ in God." The king said, "What are you going to do with such a fanatic as that?" Let us remember that if we have not grace enough for service, we have no one to blame but ourselves. We are not straitened in God: He has abundance of grace to qualify us to work for Him. MORE TO FOLLOW. I heard a story about two members of a Church: one was a wealthy man, and the other was one of those who cannot take care of their finances--he was always in debt. The rich brother had compassion on his poor brother. He wanted to give him some money; but he would not give it to the man all at once: he knew he would not use it properly. So he sent the amount to the minister, and asked him to supply the needs of this poor brother. The minister used to send him a five-dollar bill, and put on the envelope "More to follow." I can imagine how welcome the gift would be; but the best of all was the promise--"More to follow." So it is with God: there is always "more to follow." It is such a pity that we are not ready to be used by God when He wants to use us. Dear friends, let me put this question to you: Are you full of grace? You shake your head. Well, it is our privilege to be _full_. What is the best way to get full of grace? It is to be emptied of self. How can we be emptied? Suppose you wish to get the air out of this tumbler; how can you do it? I will tell you: by pouring water into the tumbler till it is full to overflowing. That is the way the Lord empties us of self. He fills us with His grace. "I will pour water on him that is thirsty." Are you hungering to get rid of your sinful selves? Then let the Spirit of God come in and fill you. God is able to do it. See what He did for John Bunyan--how He made one of the mightiest instruments for good the world ever saw, out of that swearing Bedford tinker. If we had a telescope which would enable us to look into heaven as Stephen did, I can imagine we should see the thief, who believed in Jesus while on the cross, very near the throne. Ask him how he got there; and he would tell you it was through the grace of God. See how the grace of God could save a Mary Magdalene possessed of seven devils! Ask her what it was that melted her heart: and she would tell you that it was the grace of God. Look again at that woman whom Christ met at the well at Sychar. The Saviour offered her a cup of the living water: she drank, and now she walks the chrystal pavement of heaven. See how the grace of God could change Zaccheus, the hated publican of Jericho! Now he is in yonder world of light; he was brought there by the sovereign grace of God. You will have noticed that many of those who were about the most unlikely, have, by the power of God's grace, become very eminent in His service. Look at the twelve apostles of Christ; they were all unlettered men. This ought to encourage all whose education is limited to give themselves to God's work. When our earthly work is ended, then, like our Master, we shall enter into glory. It has been well remarked: "Grace is glory militant; and glory is grace triumphant. Grace is glory begun; glory is grace made perfect. Grace is the first degree of glory: glory is the highest degree of grace." "Oh, to grace how great a debtor Daily I'm constrained to be! Let Thy grace, Lord, like a fetter, Bind my wandering heart to thee. Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it-- Prone to leave the God I love-- Here's my heart, oh take and seal it, Seal it for Thy courts above." CHAPTER VIII. A CHIME OF GOSPEL BELLS. IN Baltimore, a few years ago, we held a number of meetings for men. I am very fond of this hymn; and we used to let the choir sing the chorus over and over again, till all could sing it. "Oh, word of words the sweetest, Oh, word in which there lie All promise, all fulfillment, And end of mystery! Lamenting or rejoicing, With doubt or terror nigh, I hear the 'Come!' of Jesus, And to His cross I fly. Come! oh, come to me! Come! oh, come to me! Weary heavy-laden, Come! oh, come to Me! O soul! why shouldst thou wander From such a loving Friend? Cling closer, closer to Him, Stay with Him to the end Alas! I am so helpless, So very full of sin; For I am ever wandering, And coming back again. Oh, each time draw me nearer, That soon the 'Come!' may be Nought but a gentle whisper To one close, close to Thee; Then, over sea and mountain, Far from, or near, my home, I'll take Thy hand and follow, At that sweet whisper, 'Come!'" There was a man in one of the meetings who had been brought there against his will; he had come through some personal influence brought to bear upon him. When he got to the meeting, they were singing the chorus of this hymn-- "Come! come! come!" He said afterwards he thought he never saw so many fools together in his life before. The idea of a number of men standing there singing, "Come! come! come!" When he started home he could not get this little word out of his head; it kept coming back all the time. He went into a saloon, and ordered some whiskey, thinking to drown it. But he could not; it still kept coming back. He went into another saloon, and drank some more whiskey; but the words kept ringing in his ears: "Come! come! come!" He said to himself, "What a fool I am for allowing myself to be troubled in this way!" He went to a third saloon; had another glass, and finally got home. He went off to bed, but could not sleep; it seemed as if the very pillow kept whispering the word, "Come! Come!" He began to be angry with himself: "What a fool I was for ever going to that meeting at all!" When he got up he took the little hymn book, found the hymn, and read it over. "What nonsense!" he said to himself; "the idea of a rational man being disturbed by that hymn." He set fire to the hymn book; but he could not burn up the little word "Come!" "Heaven and earth shall pass away: but My word shall not pass away." He declared he would never go to another of the meetings; but the next night he came again. When he got there, strange to say, they were singing the same hymn. "There is that miserable old hymn again," he said; "what a fool I am for coming!" I tell you, when the Spirit of God lays hold of a man, he does a good many things he did not intend to do. To make a long story short, that man rose in a meeting of young converts, and told the story that I have now told you. Pulling out the little hymn book for he had bought another copy and opening it at this hymn, he said: "I think this hymn is the sweetest and the best in the English language. God blessed it to the saving of my soul." And yet this was the very hymn he had despised. I want to take up this little word "Come!" Sometimes people forget the text of a sermon; but this text will be short enough for any one to remember. Let me ring out a chime of Gospel bells, every one of which says, "Come!" The first bell I will ring is, COME AND HEAR! "Incline your ear, and come unto me; hear, and your soul shall live; and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David." "Incline your ear," God says. You have sometimes seen a man who is a little deaf, and cannot catch every word, put his hand up to his ear and lean forward. I have seen a man sometimes put up both hands to his ears, as if he were determined to catch every word. I like to see that. This is the figure that the prophet uses when he says on God's behalf, "Incline your ear." Man lost spiritual life and communion with his Maker by listening to the voice of the tempter, instead of the voice of God. We get life again by listening to the voice of God. The Word of God gives life. "The words that I speak unto you," says Christ, "they are spirit, and they are life." So, what people need is--to incline their ear, and hear. It is a great thing when the Gospel preacher gets the ear of a congregation--I mean the inner ear. For a man has not only two ears in his head; he has also what we may call the outer ear, and the inner ear--the ear of the soul. You may speak to the outward ear, and not reach the ear of the soul at all. Many in these days are like the "foolish people" to whom the prophet Jeremiah spoke: "Which have eyes, and see not; which have ears, and hear not." There are many in every congregation whose attention I am not able to secure for five minutes together. Almost any little thing will divert their minds. We need to give heed to the words of the Lord: "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." You remember when Peter was sent to Cornelius, he was to speak to him words whereby he and his house were to be saved. If you are to be saved, it must be by listening to the Word of God. Here is the promise: "Hear; and your soul shall live." There was an architect in Chicago who was converted. In giving his testimony, he said he had been in the habit of attending church for a great many years, but he could not say that he had really heard a sermon all the time. He said that when the minister gave out the text and began to preach, he used to settle himself in the corner of the pew and work out the plans of some building. He could not tell how many plans he had prepared while the minister was preaching. He was the architect for one or two companies; and he used to do all his planning in that way. You see, Satan came in between him and the preacher, and caught away the good seed of the Word. I have often preached to people, and have been perfectly amazed to find they could hardly tell one solitary word of the sermon; even the text had completely gone from them. A colored man once said that a good many of his congregation would be lost because they were too generous. He saw that the people looked rather surprised; so he said, "Perhaps you think I have made a mistake; and that I ought to have said you will be lost because you are not generous enough. That is not so; I meant just what I said. You give away too many sermons. You hear them, as it were, for other people." So there are a good many now hearing me who are listening for those behind them: they say the message is a very good one for neighbor So-and-so; and they pass it over their shoulders, till it gets clear out at the door. You laugh; but you know it is so. Listen! "Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that heareth My word, and believeth on Him that sent Me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life." The next note in this peal of bells I wish to ring out is-- COME AND SEE! Scripture not only uses the ear, but the eye, in illustrating the way of salvation. When a man both hears and sees a thing, he remembers it twice as long as if he only heard it. You remember what Philip said to Nathanael: "Philip findeth Nathanael, and saith unto him, we have found Him of whom Moses in the Law, and the Prophets, did write--Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph. And Nathanael said unto him, Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth? Philip saith unto him, Come and see." Philip was a wise winner of souls. He brought his friend to Christ. Nathanael had one interview with the son of God; he became His disciple and never left Him. If Philip had gone on discussing the matter with him, and had tried to prove that some good thing could come out of Nazareth, he might have never been a disciple at all. After all, we do not gain much by discussion. Let objectors or inquirers only get one personal interview with the Son of God; that will scatter all their darkness, all their prejudice, and all their unbelief. The moment that Philip succeeded in getting Nathanael to Christ, the work was done. So we say to you, "Come and see!" I thought, when I was converted, that my friends had been very unfaithful to me, because they had not told me about Christ. I thought I would have all my friends converted inside of twenty-four hours; and I was quite disappointed when they did not at once see Christ to be the Lily of the Valley, and the Rose of Sharon, and the Bright and Morning Star. I wondered why it was. No doubt many of those who hear me now have had that experience; you thought when you saw Christ in all His beauty that you could soon make your friends see Him in the same light. But we need to learn that God alone can do it. If there is a skeptic now hearing me, I want to say that one personal interview with the Son of God will scatter all your infidelity and atheism. One night, in the inquiry-room, I met the wife of an atheist, who had been brought to God at one of our meetings. She was converted at the same time. She had brought two of her daughters to the meeting, desiring that they too should know Christ. I said to the mother: "How is it with your skepticism now?" "Oh," said she, "it is all gone." When Christ gets into the heart, atheism must go out; if a man will only come and take one trustful, loving look at the Saviour, there will be no desire to leave Him again. A gentleman was walking down the street in Baltimore, a few years ago. It was near Christmas-time, and many of the shop-windows were filled with Christmas presents, toys, etc. As this gentleman passed along, he saw three little girls standing before a shop window, and he heard two of them trying to describe to the third the things that were in the window. It aroused his attention, and he wondered what it could mean. He went back, and found that the middle one was blind--she had never been able to see--and her two sisters were endeavoring to tell her how the things looked. The gentleman stood beside them for some time, and listened; he said it was most interesting to hear them trying to describe the different articles to the blind child--they found it a difficult task. As he told me, I said to myself, "That is just my position in trying to tell other men about Christ: I may talk about Him; and yet they see no beauty in Him that they should desire Him. But if they will only come to Him, He will open their eyes and reveal Himself to them in all His loveliness and grace." Looking at it from the outside, there was not much beauty in the Tabernacle that Moses erected in the desert. It was covered on the outside with badgers' skins--and there was not much beauty in them. If you were to pass into the inside, then you would find out the beauty of the coverings. So the sinner sees no beauty in Christ till he comes to Him--then he can see it. You have looked at the windows of a grand church erected at the cost of many thousands of dollars. From the outside they did not seem very beautiful; but get inside, when the rays of the sun are striking upon the stained glass, and you begin to understand what others have told you of their magnificence. So it is when you have come into personal contact with Christ; you find Him to be the very Friend you need. Therefore we extend to all the sweet Gospel invitation "Come and see!" Let me now ring out the third bell-- COME AND DRINK! "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters: and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat: yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price." If you will come and drink at this fountain, Christ says you shall never thirst again. He has promised to quench your thirst. "If any man thirst," He says, "let him come unto Me and drink." I thank God for those words: "_If any man_." That does not mean merely a select few respectable people; it takes in all--every drunkard, every harlot, every thief, every self-righteous Pharisee. "If any man _thirst_." How this world is thirsting for something that will satisfy! What fills the places of amusement--the dance houses, the music halls, and the theaters, night after night? Men and women are thirsting for something they have not got. The moment a man turns his back upon God, he begins to thirst; and that thirst will never be quenched until he returns to "the fountain of living waters." As the prophet Jeremiah tells us, we have forsaken the fountain of living waters, and hewn out for ourselves cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water. There is a thirst this world can never quench: the more we drink of its pleasures, the thirstier we become. We cry out for more and more; and we are all the while being dragged down lower and lower. But there is "a fountain opened to the House of David . . . for sin and for uncleanness." Let us press up to it, and drink and live. I remember after one of the great battles in the War we were coming down the Tennessee River with a company of wounded men. It was in the spring of the year, and the water was not clear. You know that the cry of a wounded man is: "Water! water!" especially in a hot country. I remember taking a glass of the muddy water to one of these men. Although he was very thirsty, he only drank a little of it. He handed the glass back to me, and as he did so, he said, "Oh for a draught of water from my father's well!" Are there any thirsty ones here? Come and drink of the fountain opened in Christ; your longing will be satisfied, and you will never thirst again. It will be in you "a well of water springing up into everlasting life." Water rises to its own level; and as this water has come down from the throne of God, it will carry us back to the presence of God. Come, O ye thirsty ones, stoop down and drink, and live! You are all invited: come along! When Moses took his rod and struck the flinty rock in the wilderness, out of it there came a pure crystal stream of water, which flowed or through that dry and barren land. All that the poor thirsty Israelites had to do was to stoop and drink. It was free to all. So the grace of God is free to all. God invites you to come and take it: will you come? I remember being in a large city where I noticed that the people resorted to a favorite well in one of the parks. I said to a man one day, "Does the well never run dry?" The man was drinking of the water out of the well; and as he stopped drinking, he smacked his lips, and said: "They have never been able to pump it dry yet. They tried it a few years ago. They put the fire engines to work, and tried all they could to pump the well dry; but they found there was a river flowing right under the city." Thank God, the well of salvation never gets dry, though the saints of God have been drinking from it for six thousand years! Abel, Enoch Noah, Abraham. Moses, Elijah, the Apostles all have drunk from it; and they are now up yonder, where they are drinking of the stream that flows from the throne of God. "They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." Let me ring another Gospel bell: COME AND DINE! My brother, my sister--are you hungry? Then come along and dine. Some people are afraid of being converted, because they think they will not hold out. Mr. Rainsford once said, "If the Lord gives us eternal life, He will surely give us all that is needful to preserve it." He not only gives life; but He gives us our daily bread to feed that life. After the Saviour had risen from the dead, He had not appeared to His disciples for some days. Peter said to the others, "I go a fishing." Seven of them started off in their boats. They toiled all night but caught nothing. In the grey of the morning, they saw a Stranger on the shore. He addressed them and said "Children, have ye any meat?" They told Him they had not. "Cast the net on the right side of the ship; and ye shall find." I can imagine they said to each other, "What good is that going to do? We have been fishing here all night, and have got nothing? The idea that there should be fish on one side of the boat, and not on the other!" However, they obeyed the command; and they had such a haul that there was no room for the fish in the boat. Then one of them said, "It is the Lord." When he heard that, Peter sprang right into the sea, and swam to the shore; and the others pulled the boat to land. When they reached the shore the Master said, "Come and dine." What a meal that must have been. There was the Lord of Glory feeding His disciples. If He could set a table for His people in the wilderness, and feed three millions of Israelites for forty years, can He not give us our daily bread? I do not mean only the bread that perisheth; but the Bread that cometh from above. If He feeds the birds of the air, surely He will feed His children made in His own image! If He numbers the very hairs of our head, He will take care to supply all our temporal wants. Not only so: He will give us the Bread of Life for the nourishment of the soul--the life that the world knows nothing of--if we will but go to Him. "I am the Bread of Life," He says. As we feed on Him by faith, we get strength. Let our thoughts rest upon Him; and He will lift us above ourselves, and above the world, and satisfy our utmost desires. Another Gospel bell is-- COME AND REST! Dear friend, do you not need rest? There is a restlessness all over the world to-day. Men are sighing and struggling after rest. The cry of the world is, "Where can rest be found?" The rich man that we read of in the parable pulled down his barns, that he might build greater; and said to his soul, "Take thine ease." He thought he was going to find rest in wealth; but he was disappointed. That night his soul was summoned away. No; there is no rest in wealth or pleasure. Others think they will succeed in drowning their sorrows and troubles by indulging in drink; but that will only increase them. "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked:" they are like the troubled sea that cannot rest. We sometimes talk of the ocean as being as calm as a sea of glass; but it is never at rest: and here we have a faithful picture of the wicked man and woman. O weary soul, hear the sweet voice that comes ringing down through the ages: "Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy-laden; and I will _give_ you rest." Thank God, He does not _sell_ it! If He did, some of us are so poor we could not buy; but we can all take a gift. That little boy there knows how to take a gift; that old man, living on borrowed time, and almost on the verge of another world, knows how to take a gift. The gift Jesus wants to bestow is rest: Rest for time, and rest for eternity. Every weary soul may have this rest if he will. But you must come to Christ and get it. Nowhere else can this rest be found. If you go to the world with your cares, your troubles, and your anxieties, all it can do is to put a few more on the top of them. The world is a poor place to go to for sympathy. As some one has said: "If you roll your burdens anywhere but on Christ, they will roll back on you with more weight than ever. Cast them on Christ; and He will carry them for you." Here is another bell-- COME AND REASON! Perhaps there are some infidels reading this. They are fond of saying to us, "Come and reason." But I want to draw their attention to the verses that go before this one in the first chapter of Isaiah. The trouble with a good many skeptics is this--they take a sentence here and there from Scripture without reference to the context. Let us see what this passage says: "When ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you: yea, when ye make many prayers I will not hear: your hands are full of blood. Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before Mine eyes; cease to do evil; learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow." _Then_ we have the gracious invitation, "Come now, and let us reason together." Do you think God is going to reason with a man whose hands are dripping with blood, and before he asks forgiveness and mercy? Will God reason with a man living in rebellion against Him? Nay. But if we turn from and confess our sin, then He will reason with us, and pardon us. "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow: though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." But if a man persists in his rebellion against God, there is no invitation to him to come and reason, and receive pardon. If I have been justly condemned to death by the law of the State, and am waiting the execution of my sentence, I am not in a position to reason with the governor. If he chooses to send me a free pardon, the first thing I have to do is to accept it; then he may allow me to come into his presence. But we must bear in mind that God is above our reason. When man fell, his reason became perverted; and he was not in a position to reason with God. "If any man willeth to do His will he shall know of the teaching." We must be willing to forsake our sins. "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon," The moment a man is willing to part with his sins, God meets him in grace and offers him peace and pardon. The next bell I would like to sound out is-- COME TO THE MARRIAGE! "Behold, I have prepared my dinner: . . . all things are ready; come unto the marriage." Who would not feel highly honored if they were invited to some fine residence, to the wedding of one of the members of the President's family? I can imagine you would feel rather proud of having received such an invitation. You would want all your friends to know it. Probably you may never get such an invitation. But I have a far grander invitation for you here than that. I cannot speak for others; but if I know my own heart, I would rather be torn to pieces to-night, limb from limb, and die in the glorious hope of being at the marriage-supper of the Lamb, than live in this world a thousand years and miss that appointment at the last. "Blessed is he that is called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb." It will be a fearful thing for any of us to see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob taking their place in the kingdom of God, and be ourselves thrust out. This is no myth, my friends; it is a real invitation. Every man and woman is invited. All things are now ready. The feast has been prepared at great expense. You may spurn the grace, and the gift of God; but you must bear in mind that it cost God a good deal before He could provide this feast. When He gave Christ He gave the richest jewel that heaven had. And now He sends out the invitation. He commands His servants to go into the highways, and hedges, and lanes, and compel them to come in, that His house may be full. Who will come? You say you are not fit to come? If the President invited you to the White House, and the invitation said you were to come just as you were; and if the sentinel at the gate stopped you because you did not wear a dress suit, what would you do? Would you not show him the document signed in the name of the President? Then he would stand aside and let you pass. So, my friend, if you can prove to me that you are a sinner, I can prove to you that you are invited to this Gospel feast--to this marriage supper of the Lamb. Let me ring out another bell in this Gospel chime-- "COME, INHERIT THE KINGDOM!" "Then shall the King say unto them on His right hand, Come, ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." A kingdom!--think of that! Think of a poor man in this world, struggling with poverty and want, invited to become possessor of a kingdom! It is no fiction; it is described as "an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you, who are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation, ready to be revealed in the last time." We are called to be kings and priests: that is a high calling. Surely no one who hears me intends to miss that kingdom! Christ said, "_Seek ye first_ the Kingdom of God." Those who inherit it shall go no more out. Yet another bell-- "COME UP HITHER!" In the Revelation we find that the two witnesses were called up to heaven when their testimony was ended. So if we are faithful in the service of our King, we shall by and by hear a voice saying, "Come up hither!" There is going to be a separation one day. The man who has been persecuting his godly wife will some day find her missing. That drunkard who beats his children because they have been taught the way into the Kingdom of God, will miss them some day. They will be taken up out of the darkness, and away from the persecution, up into the presence of God. When the voice of God saying, "Come up hither" is heard, calling His children home, there will be a grand jubilee. That glorious day will soon dawn. "Lift up your heads, for the time of your redemption draweth nigh." One more bell to complete the chime-- "WHOSOEVER WILL, LET HIM COME!" It is the last time that the word "Come" appears in the Bible; and it occurs there over one thousand nine hundred times. We find it away back in Genesis, "Come, thou and all thy house, into the ark"; and it goes right along through Scripture. Prophets, apostles, and preachers, have been ringing it out all through the ages. Now the record is about to be closed, and Christ tells John to put in one more invitation. After the Lord had been in glory for about sixty years, perhaps He saw some poor man stumbling over one of the apostles' letters about the doctrine of election. So He came to John in Patmos, and John was in the Spirit on the Lord's Day. Christ said to His disciple, "Write these things to the Churches." I can imagine John's pen moved very easily and very swiftly that day; for the hand of his Lord was upon him. The Master said to him, "Before you close up the Book, put in one more invitation; and make it so broad that the whole world shall know they are included, and not a single one may feel that he is left out." John began to write "The Spirit and the Bride say, Come," that is, the Spirit and the Church; "and let him that heareth say, Come!" If you have heard and received the message yourself, pass it on to those near you; your religion is not a very real thing if it does not affect some one else. We have to get rid of this idea that the world is going to be reached by ministers alone. All those who have drunk of the cup of salvation must pass it around. "Let him that is athirst, come." But there are some so deaf that they cannot hear; others are not thirsty enough or they think they are not. I have seen men in our after-meetings with two streams of tears running down their cheeks; and yet they said the trouble with them was that they were not anxious enough. They were anxious to be anxious. Probably Christ saw that men would say they did not feel thirsty; so He told the apostle to make the invitation still broader. So the last invitation let down into a thirsty world is this: "Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." Thank God for those words "Whosoever will!" Who will come and take it? That is the question. You have the power to accept or to reject the invitation. A man in one meeting once was honest enough to say "I won't." If I had it in my power I would bring this whole audience to a decision now, either for or against. I hope many now reading these words will say, "I will!" If God says we can, all the devils in hell cannot stop us. All the infidels in the world cannot prevent us. That little boy, that little girl, can say, "I will!" If it were necessary, God would send down a legion of angels to help you; but He has given you the power, and you can accept Christ this very minute if you are really in earnest. Let me say that it is the easiest thing in the world to become a Christian, and it is also the most difficult. You will say: "That is a contradiction, a paradox." I will illustrate what I mean. A little nephew of mine in Chicago, a few years ago, took my Bible and threw it down on the floor. His mother said, "Charlie, pick up Uncle's Bible." The little fellow said he would not, "Charlie, do you know what that word means?" She soon found out that he did, and that he was not going to pick up the Book. His will had come right up against his mother's will. I began to be quite interested in the struggle; I knew if she did not break his will, he would some day break her heart. She repeated, "Charlie, go and pick up Uncle's Bible, and put it on the table." The little fellow said he could not do it. "I will punish you if you do not." He saw a strange look in her eye, and the matter began to get serious. He did not want to be punished, and he knew his mother would punish him if he did not lift the Bible. So he straightened every bone and muscle in him, and he said _he could not do it_. I really believe the little fellow had reasoned himself into the belief that he could not do it. His mother knew he was only deceiving himself; so she kept him right to the point. At last he went down, put both his arms around the Book, and tugged away at it; but he still said he could not do it. The truth was he did not want to. He got up again without lifting it. The mother said, "Charlie, I am not going to talk to you any more. This matter has to be settled; pick up that Book, or I will punish you." At last she broke his will, and then he found it as easy as it is for me to turn my hand. He picked up the Bible, and laid it on the table. So it is with the sinner; if you are really willing to take the Water of Life, you can do it. "I heard the voice of Jesus say, 'Come unto Me, and rest; Lay down, thou weary one, lay down, Thy head upon My breast.' I came to Jesus as I was-- Weary, and worn, and sad, I found in Him a resting-place, And He has made me glad. I heard the voice of Jesus say, 'Behold, I freely give The living water--thirsty one, Stoop down, and drink, and live.' I came to Jesus, and I drank Of that life-giving stream; My thirst was quenched, my soul revived, And now I live in Him. I heard the voice of Jesus say, 'I am this dark world's Light: Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, And all thy day be bright.' I looked to Jesus, and I found In Him my Star, my Sun; And in that Light of life I'll walk Till traveling days are done." _Dr. H. Bonar_ GOSPEL DIALOGUES. I.--MR. MOODY AND REV. MARCUS RAINSFORD. WHAT IT IS TO BE A CHILD OF GOD. MR. MOODY--What is it to be a child of God? What is the first step? Rev. M. Rainsford--Well, sir, I am a child of God when I become united to the Son of God. The Son of God prayed that all who believed upon Him should be one with Him, as He was one with the Father. Believing on Jesus, I receive Him, and become united to Him; I become, as it were, a member of his Body. I am an heir of God, a joint-heir with Christ. Mr. M.--What is the best definition of Faith? Mr. R.--Trust in the Son of God, as the Saviour He has given to us. Simple trust, not only in a creed, but in a Person. I trust my soul to Him. I trust the keeping of my soul to Him. God has promised that whosoever trusts Him, mercy shall compass him on every side. Mr. M.--Does not the Scripture say that the devils believe? Mr. R.--They believe the truth, do they not? They believe that Jesus was manifested to destroy them; and they "tremble." I wish we believed as truly and as fully that God sent His Son into the world to save us. Mr. M.--What is it to "trust?" Mr. R.--I take it to mean four things: (1) Believing on Christ: that is, taking Him at His Word. (2) Hoping in Christ: that is, expecting help from Him, according to His Word. (3) Relying on Christ: That is, resting on Him for the times, and ways, and circumstances in which He may be pleased to fulfill His promises according to His Word. (4) Waiting on Christ: that is, _continuing_ to do so, notwithstanding delay, darkness, barrenness, perplexing experiences, and the sentence of death in myself. He may keep me waiting awhile (I have kept Him a long time waiting); but He will not keep me waiting always. Believing in Him, hoping in Him, relying upon Him, and waiting for Him--I understand to be trusting in Him. Mr. M.--Can all these friends here believe the promises? Mr. R.--The promises are true, whether we believe them or not. We do not make them true by believing them. God could not charge me with being an unbeliever, or condemn me for unbelief, if the promises were not true for me. I could in that case turn round and say: "Great God, why did you expect me to believe a promise that was not true for me?" And yet the Scriptures set forth unbelief as the greatest sin I can continue to commit. Mr. M.--How are we "cleansed by _the Blood?_" Mr. R.--"The blood is the life." The sentence upon sinners for their sin was, "The soul that sinneth it shall die." That we might not die, the Son of God died. The blood is _the poured-out life of the Son of God_, given as the price, the atonement, the substitute, for the forfeited life of the believer in Jesus Christ. Any poor sinner who receives Christ as God's gift is cleansed from all sin by His Blood. Mr. M.--Was the blood shed for us all? Mr. R.-- "There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Immanuel's veins; And sinners plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains. The dying thief rejoiced to see That fountain in his day; And there may we, though vile as he, Wash all our sins away." Mr. M.--Some may think that this is only a hymn, and that it is not Scripture. Did the Lord ever say anything similar to what the hymn says? Mr. R.--He said: "I have given you the blood upon the altar to make an atonement for your souls." That was said of the picture of the blood of Christ. And at the Last Supper our Lord said His blood was "the blood of the new testament which is shed for you and for many for the remission of sins." Mr. M.--What is "the gift of God?" Mr. R.--There are three great gifts that God has given to us-- (1) His blessed Son. (2) The Holy Ghost, "the promise of the Father," that we might understand the unspeakable gift bestowed on us when He gave His Son. (3) He has given us His Holy Word. The Holy Ghost has inspired the writers of it that we may read, and hear, and know the love that God has to us, "in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us." We could not have the Son for our Saviour, unless God gave Him. We could not understand the gift of God, unless the Holy Ghost had come to quicken us and teach us; and this He does through the Word. Mr. M.--How much is there in Christ for us who believe? Mr. R.--In Him dwelt "all the fullness of the Godhead bodily"--fullness of life, of righteousness, of sanctification, of redemption, title to heaven, and meetness for it; all that God wants from us, and all that we want from God, He gave in the person of Christ. Mr. M.--How long does it take God to justify a sinner? Mr. R.--How long? The moment we receive Him we receive authority to enroll ourselves among the children of God, and are then and there justified from all things. The sentence of complete justification does not take long to pronounce. Some persons profess to see a difficulty in the variety of ways in which a sinner is said to be justified before God: (1) Justified by God; (2) Justified by Christ; (3) Justified by His Blood; (4) Justified by grace; (5) Justified by faith; (6) Justified by works. Justification has reference to a court of justice. Suppose a sinner standing at the bar of God, the bar of conscience, and the bar of his fellow-men, charged with a thousand crimes. (1) There is the Judge: that is God, who alone can condemn or justify: "It is God that justifieth." That is justification by God. (2) There is the Advocate, who appears at court for the sinner; the counselor, the intercessor: that is Christ. "Justified by Christ." (3) There is next to be considered the ground and reason on account of which the Advocate pleads before the Judge. That is the merit of His own precious Blood. That is justification by His Blood. (4) Next we must remember the law which the Judge is dispensing. The law of works? Nay, but the law of grace and faith. That is justification by His grace. (5) And now the judge himself pronounces the result. "Be it known unto you that through this Man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins; and by Him all that believe are justified from all things." Now, for the first time, the sinner at the bar knows the fact. This is justification by faith. (6) But now the justified man leaves the criminal's dock. He does not return to his prison, or to his chains. He walks forth from the court-house a justified man; and all men, friends or foes, are made aware that he is free. That is "justification by works." Mr. M.--A man says: "I have not found peace." How would you deal with him? Mr. R.--He is really looking for the wrong thing. I do not look for peace. I look for _Christ;_ and I get peace with Him. Some people put peace in the place of Christ. Others put their repentance or prayers in the place of Christ. _Anything_ put in the place of Christ, or between the sinner and Christ, is in the _wrong place_. When I get Christ, I possess in Him everything that belongs to Him, as my Saviour. Mr. M.--Some think they cannot be Christians until they are sanctified. Mr. R.--Christ is my Sanctification, as much as my Justification. I cannot be sanctified but by His blood. There is a wonderful passage in Exodus. The high priest there represented in picture the Lord Jesus Christ. There was to be placed on the forefront of the miter of the high priest, when he stood before God, a plate of pure gold, and graven upon it as with a signet, the words: "Holiness to the Lord." My faith sees it on the forefront of the miter on the brow of my High Priest in heaven. "And it shall be upon Aaron's forehead, that Aaron may bear the iniquity of the holy things, which the children of Israel shall hallow in all their holy gifts; and it shall be _always_ upon his forehead, that they may be accepted before the Lord." That was for Israel of old! _That_ on the brow of Jesus Christ is for me. Yes--for me, "that I may be accepted before the Lord." As I believe this truth it purifies my heart, it operates on my affections and my desires; and I seek to walk with Him, because He is my Sanctification before God, just as I trust in Him as my Justification--because He shed His blood for me. Mr. M.--What is it to believe on His name? Mr. R.--His name is His revealed self. We are informed what it is in Exodus. Moses was in the mount with God, and He had shown him wonderful things of kindness and of love. And Moses said, "O God, show me thy _glory!_" And He said, "I will make all my _goodness_ pass before thee." So He put Moses in the cleft of the rock, and proclaimed the name of the Lord: "The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abundant in goodness and truth; keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin"--there it is, root and branch "and that will by no means clear the guilty." That is His name; and His glory He will not give unto another: and to believe in the name of the Lord is just to shelter under His promises. Mr. M.--What is it to "receive the Kingdom of God like a little child?" Mr. R.--Well, I do not believe in a little child being an innocent thing. I think it means that we are to receive it in all our need and helplessness. A little child is the most dependent thing on earth. All its resources are in its parents' love: all it can do is to cry; and its necessities explain the meaning to the mother's heart. If we interpret its language, it means: "Mother, wash me; I cannot wash myself. Mother, clothe me; I am naked, and cannot clothe myself. Mother, feed me; I cannot feed myself. Mother, carry me; I cannot walk." It is written, "A mother may forget her sucking child; yet will not I forget thee." This it is to receive the Kingdom of God as a little child--to come to Jesus in our helplessness and say: "Lord Jesus, wash me!" "Clothe me!" "Feed me!" "Carry me!" "Save me, Lord, or I perish." Mr. M.--A good many say they are going to _try_. What would you say to such? Mr. R.--God wants no man to "try." Jesus has already tried. He has not only tried, but He has succeeded. "It is finished." Believe in Him who has "made an end of sins, making reconciliation for iniquity, finishing transgression, and bringing in everlasting righteousness." Mr. M.--If people say they are "going to try," what would you say to them? Mr. R.--I should say, Put _trusting_ in the place of trying; _believing_ in the place of doubting; and I should urge them to come to Christ as they are, instead of waiting to be better. There is nothing now between God the Father and the poor sinner, but the Lord Jesus Christ; and Christ has put away sin that I may be joined to the Lord. "And he that is joined unto the Lord is one spirit;" "And where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty." Mr. M.--About the last thing an anxious inquirer has to contend with is his feelings. There are hundreds here very anxious to know they are safe in the Kingdom; but they think they have not the right kind of feeling. What kind of feeling should they have? Mr. R.--I think there are several of those present who can say that they found a blessing in the after-meetings through one verse of Scripture. I will quote it as an answer to Mr. Moody's question. "Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of His servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light? Let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." Some of you may be walking in darkness; that is how you feel. What is God's command? "Let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." If I am to trust God in the darkness, I am to trust Him anywhere. Mr. M.--You would advise them, then, to trust in the Lord, whether they have the right kind of feeling or not? Mr. R.--If I were to think of my feelings for a moment, I should be one of the most miserable men in this hall to-night. My feelings are those of a sinful corrupt nature. I am just to believe what God tells me in spite of my feelings. Faith is "the evidence of things not seen:" I might add, "the evidence of things not felt." Mr. M.--Some may say that faith is the gift of God: and that they must wait till God imparts it to them. Mr. R.--"Faith cometh by hearing." The word of God is the medium through which faith comes to us. God has given us Christ; and He has given us His Spirit, and His Word: what need is there to wait? God will give faith to the man who reads His Word and seeks for His Spirit. Mr. M.--What, then, should they wait for? Mr. R.--I do not know of anything they have to wait for. God says: "Come now; Believe now." No, no; there is nothing to wait for. He has given us all He has to give: and the sooner we take it the better. Mr. M.--Perhaps some of them think they have too many sins to allow their coming. Mr. R.--The Lord Jesus has put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself. "As far as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions from us." Why do we not believe him? He says He has "made an end of sins." Why do we not believe Him? Is He a liar? Mr. M.--Is unbelief a sin? Mr. R.--It is the root of all sin. Mr. M.--Has a man the power to believe these things, if he will? Mr. R.--When God gives a command, it means that we are able by His grace to do it. Mr. M.--What do you mean by "coming" to Christ? Mr. R.--Believing in Him. If I were to prepare a great feast in this hall to-morrow night, and say that any man that comes to it would have a grand feast and a five-pound note besides, there would not be any question as to what "coming" meant. God has prepared a great feast. He has sent His messengers to invite all to come; and there is nothing to pay. Mr. M.--What is the first step. Mr. R.--To believe. Mr. M.--Believe what? Mr. R.--God's invitation; God's promise; God's provision. Let us believe the faithfulness of Him who calls us. Does God intend to mock us, and make game of us? If He did so to one man, it would hush all the harps in heaven. Mr. M.--Suppose the people do "come," and that they fall into sin tomorrow? Mr. R.--Let them come back again. God says we are to forgive till seventy times seven. Do you think the great God will do less than He commands us to do? Mr. M.--If they truly come, will they have the desire to do the things they used to do before? Mr. R.--When a man really receives Christ into his heart, he experiences "the expulsive power of a new affection." The devil may tempt him to sin; but sin has lost its attraction. A man finds out that it does not pay to grieve God's Holy Spirit. Mr. M.--What would you advise your converts to do? Mr. R.--When you were little babes, if you had had no milk, no clothing, and no rest, you would not have lived very long. You are now the result of your fathers' and mothers' care. When a man is born in the family of God he has life; but he needs food. "Man doth not live by bread alone." If you do not feed upon God's promises you will be of no use in God's service: it will be well for you if your life does not die out altogether before long. Then you need exercise. If you only take food, and do no work, you will soon suffer from what I may call spiritual apoplexy. When you get hold of a promise, go and tell it to others. The best way for me to get help for myself is by trying to help others. There is one great promise that young disciples should never forget: "He that watereth shall be watered also himself." Mr. M.--How are they to begin? Mr. R.--I believe there are some rich ladies and rich gentlemen on the platform. When such persons are brought to the Lord, they are apt to be ashamed to speak about salvation to their old companions. If our Christian ladies would go amongst other ladies; Christian gentlemen amongst gentlemen of their own class; and so on we should see a grand work for Christ. Each of you have some friends or relations whom you can influence better than anybody else can. Begin with them; and God will give you such a taste for work that you will not be content to stay at home: you will go and work outside as well. Mr. M.--A good place to start in would be the kitchen, would it not? Begin with some little kitchen meetings. Let some of you get fifteen or twenty mothers together; and ask them to bring their young children with them. Sing some of these sweet hymns; read a few verses of Scripture; get your lips opened; and you will find that streams of salvation will be breaking out all around. I always think that every convert ought to be good for a dozen others right away. Mr. R.--Let me tell a little incident in my own experience. I was once asked to go and see a great man and tell him about Christ. He did not expect me; and if I had known that, perhaps I should not have had the faith to go at all. When I went he was very angry and very nearly turned me out of the house. He was an old man, and had one little daughter. A few weeks afterwards he went to the Continent, and his daughter went with him. One day when he was very ill he saw his daughter looking at him, while the tears rolled down her cheeks. "My child," he said, "what are you crying about?" "Oh, papa, you do not love the Lord Jesus Christ; I am afraid you are going to hell!" "Why do you say that?" "Do you not remember when Mr. Rainsford called to see you, you were very rude to him? I never saw you so angry. And he only wished to speak to you about Jesus." "Well, my child, you shall read to me about Jesus." If that man has gone to heaven--I do not say whether he has or not--the only light he had he got from his little daughter. You set to work; and you cannot tell what may be the result, by the blessing of God. "Sons of God, beloved in Jesus Oh, the wondrous word of grace! In His Son the Father sees us, And as sons He gives us place. Blessed power now brightly beaming-- On our God we soon shall gaze; And in light celestial gleaming We shall see our Saviour's face. By the power of grace transforming We shall then His image bear; Christ His promised word performing, We shall then His glory share." _El Nathan_ II.--MR. MOODY AND REV. MARCUS RAINSFORD. HOW TO BECOME A CHRISTIAN. MR. MOODY.--Mr. Rainsford, how can one make room in their heart for Christ? Rev. M. Rainsford.--First, do we really want Christ to be in our hearts? If we do, the best thing will be to ask Him to come and make room for Himself. He will surely come and do so. "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." "Without Me ye can do nothing." Mr. M.--Will Christ crowd out the world if He comes in? Mr. R.--He spake a parable to that effect. "When a strong man armed keepeth his palace [the poor sinner's heart], his goods are in peace. But when a stronger than he shall come upon him and overcome him, he taketh from him all his armour wherein he trusted [unbelief, false views of God, worldliness, and love of sin], and divideth his spoils." The devil keeps the heart, because Christ desires it for His throne--until Christ drives Him out. Mr. M.--What is the meaning of the promise?--"Him that _cometh_ unto Me I will in no wise cast out." Mr. R.--I think we often put the emphasis upon the wrong word. People are troubled about how they are going to come, when they should put the emphasis on Him to whom they are coming. "Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out:" no matter how he may come. I remember hearing this incident at an after-meeting. A gentleman was speaking to an anxious inquirer, telling him to _come_ to Christ, to _trust_ in Christ; but the man seemed to get no comfort. He said that was just where he found his difficulty. By and by, another friend came and spoke to the anxious one. All he said was: "Come to CHRIST; trust in CHRIST." The man saw it in a minute. He went and told the other gentleman, "I see the way of salvation now." "Tell me," said he, "what did that man say to you?" "Well, he told me to trust in Christ." "That is what I told you." "Nay, you bade me _trust_ in Christ, and _come_ to Christ; he bade me trust in _Christ_, and come to _Christ_." That made all the difference. Mr. M.--What does Christ mean by the words "_in no wise?_" Mr. R.--It means that if the sins of all sinners on earth and all the devils in hell were upon your soul, He will not refuse you. Not even in the range of God's omniscience is there a reason why Christ will refuse any poor sinner who comes to Him for pardon. Mr. M.--What is the salvation He comes to proclaim and to bestow? Mr. R.--To deliver us from the power of darkness and the bottomless pit, and set us upon the throne of glory. It is salvation from death and hell, and curse and ruin. But that is only the half of it. It is salvation to God, and light, and glory, and honor, and immortality; and from earth to heaven. Mr. M.--If the friends here do not come and get this salvation, what will be the true reason? Mr. R.--Either they are fond of some sin which they do not intend to give up, or they do _not_ believe they are in a lost condition, and under the curse of God, and therefore do not feel their need of Him who "came to seek and to save that which was lost." Or they do not believe God's promises. I have sometimes asked a man, "Good friend, are you saved!" "Well, no, I am not saved." "Are you lost?" "Oh, God forbid! I am not lost." "Where are you, then, if you are neither saved nor lost?" May God wake us up to the fact that we are all in one state or the other! Mr. M.--What if any of them should fall into sin after they have come to Christ? Mr. R.--God has provided for the sins of His people, committed after they come to Christ, as surely as for their sins committed before they came to Him. Christ "ever liveth to make intercession for all that come unto God by Him." "If we say that we have no sin we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." . . . . For, "if any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. And He is the propitiation for our sins." He will take care of our sinful, tried and tempted selves, if we trust ourselves to Him. Mr. M.--Is it not said that if we sin willfully after we have received the knowledge of the truth, "there remaineth _no more_ sacrifice for sins?" Mr. R.--Yes. Paul wrote it in his Epistle to the Hebrews. Some of them were trifling with the blood of Christ, reverting to the types and shadows of the Levitical Law, and trusting to a fulfilled ritual for salvation. He is not referring to _ordinary acts of sin_. By sinning willfully he means, as he explains it, a "_treading under foot the Son of God_," and a total and final apostatizing from Christ. Those who reject or neglect Him will find no other sacrifice for sin remaining. Before Christ came the Jewish ceremonies were shadows of the good things to come; but Christ was the substance of them. But now that he has come to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself, there is no other sacrifice for sin remaining for those who reject Him. God will send no other Saviour, and no further atonement; no second "fountain shall be opened for sin and uncleanness." There remains, therefore, nothing for the rejector of salvation by Christ, but "a fearful looking-for of judgment." Mr. M.--There are some who say they do not know that they have the right kind of faith. Mr. R.--God does not ask us if we have the right kind of faith. He tells us the right thing to believe, and the right faith is to believe the _right thing_, even what God has told us and promised us. If I told you, Mr. Moody, that I had found a hymn-book last night you would believe me, would you not? (Mr. Moody: Yes.) Suppose I said it was the valuable one _you_ lost the other night, you would believe me also just the same. There is no difference in the _kind_ of faith; the difference is in the _thing believed_. When the Son of God tells me that He died for sinners, that is a fact for my faith to lay hold of: the faith itself is not some thing to be considered. I do not look at my hand, when I take a gift, and wonder what sort of a hand it is. I look at the gift. Mr. M.--What about those people who say their hearts are so hard, and they have no love to Christ? Mr. R.--Of course they are hard and cold. No man loves Christ till he believes that Christ loves him. "We love Him, because He first loved us." It is the love of God shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost that makes the change. Mr. M.--Paul said he was "crucified with Christ." what did he mean? Mr. R.--Oh, that is a grand text! Thank God I have been "crucified with Christ." The Cross of Christ represents the death due to the sinner who had broken God's laws. When Christ was crucified every member of His body was crucified: but every believer that was, or is, or shall be, is a member of Christ's body, of His flesh, and of His bones. Again, we read: "Whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or one member be honored, all the members rejoice with it: now ye are the body of Christ, and members in particular." So when Christ was crucified for sin, I was also crucified in Him; and now I am dead and gone as far as my old self is concerned. I have already suffered for sin in Him. Yes; I am dead and buried with Christ. That is the grand truth that Paul laid hold upon. I am stone dead as a sinner in the sight of God. As it is written, I am "become dead to the law by the body of Christ, that I might be married to another, even to Him who is raised from the dead, that I should bring forth fruit unto God." "I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me;" and God Himself commands me so to regard my standing before Him as His believing child. "In that Christ died, He died, unto sin once: but in that He liveth, He liveth unto God. _Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin_, but _alive unto God_ through Jesus Christ our Lord." Mr. M.--Should not a man repent a good deal before he comes to Christ? Mr. R.--"Repent a good deal!" I do not think any man repents in the true sense of the word till he loves Christ and hates sin. There are many false repentances in the Bible. We are told that Pharaoh repented when the judgment of God came upon him, and he said, "I have sinned;" but as soon as the judgment passed away, he went back to his sin. We read that Balaam said: "I have sinned." Yet "he loved the wages of unrighteousness." When Saul lost his kingdom he repented; "I have sinned," he said. When Judas Iscariot found that he had made a great mistake, he said: "I have sinned, in that I have betrayed innocent blood;" yet he went "to his own place." I would not give much for these repentances; I would rather have Peter's repentance: when Christ looked upon His fallen saint it broke His heart, and he went out and wept bitterly. Or the repentance of the Prodigal, when his father's arms were around his neck, and his kisses on his cheek, and he said, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son." Mr. M.--What is your title to heaven? Mr. R.--The Person, the Life, Death, and Righteousness, of the God-man, the Son of God, my Substitute, and my Saviour. Mr. M.--How do you obtain that? Mr. R.--By receiving Him. "As many as received Him, to them gave He authority to become the sons of God, even to them that believed on His name." Mr. M.--What is your meetness for heaven? Mr. R.--The Holy Ghost dwelling in my heart is my fitness for heaven. I have only to get there; and I have, by this great gift, all tastes, desires, and faculties, for it: I have the eyes to contemplate it: I have the ears for heaven's music: and I can speak the language of the country. The Holy Ghost in me is my fitness and qualification for the splendid inheritance for which the Son of God has redeemed me. Mr. M.--Would you make a distinction between Christ's work for us and the Spirit's work in us? Mr. R.--Christ's work for me is the payment of my debt; the giving me a place in my Father's home, the place of sonship in my Father's family. The Holy Spirit's work in me is to make me fit for His company. Mr. M.--You distinguish, then, between the work of the Father, the work of the Son, and the work of the Holy Ghost. Mr. R.--Thanks be to God, I have them all, and I want them all--Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. I read that my Heavenly Father took my sins and laid them on Christ; "The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all." No one else had a right to touch them. Then I want the Son, who "His own self bare my sins in His own body on a tree." And I want the Holy Ghost. I should know nothing about this great salvation, and care nothing for it, if the Holy Ghost had not come and told me the story, and given me grace to believe it. Mr. M.--What is meant when we are told that Christ saves "to the uttermost?" Mr. R.--That is another grand truth. Some people are troubled by the thought that they will not be able to hold out if they come to Christ. There are so many crooked ways, and pitfalls, and snares in the world; there is the power of the flesh, and the snare of the devil. So they fear they will never get home. The idea of the passage is this. Suppose you are on the top of some splendid mountain, very high up. You look away to where the sun sets, and you see many a river, and many a country, and many a barren waste between. Christ is able to save you through and over them all, out and out, and beyond to the uttermost. Mr. M.--Suppose a man came in here just out of prison: all his life he has been falling, falling, till he has become discouraged. Can Christ save him all at once? Mr. R.--It is just as easy for Christ to save a man with the weight of ten thousand sins upon him and all his chains around him, as to save a man with one sin. If a man has offended in one point, the Scripture says he is guilty of all. Mr. M.--If a man is forgiven, will he go out and do the same thing to-morrow? Mr. R.--Well, I hope not. All I can say is that if we do, we shall smart for it. I have done many a thing since the Lord revealed Himself to my soul that I should not have done--I have gone backward and downward; but I have always found that it does not pay when I do anything that grieves my Heavenly Father. I think He sometimes allows us to taste the bitterness of what it is to depart from Him. And this is one of the many ways by which He keeps us from falling. Mr. M.--What do you consider to be the great sin of sins? Mr. R.--The Word of God tells us that there is only one sin of which God alone can convince us. If I cut a man's throat or if I steal, it does not need God to convince me that that is a sin. But it takes the power of the Holy Ghost to convince me that not to receive Christ, not to love Christ, not to believe in Christ, is the sin of sins, the root of sins. Christ says, "When the Spirit is come, He will convince the world of sin, _because they believe not on Me_." Mr. M.--What do you mean by the Word of God? Mr. R.--The Son of God is the Word of God incarnate: the Bible is the Word of God written. The one is the Word of God in my nature: the other is the Word of God in my language. Mr. M.--If a man receives the word of God into his heart, what benefit is it to him, right here to-night? Mr. R.--The Father and the Son will make their abode with him; and he will be the temple of the Holy Ghost. Where He goes the whole Trinity goes; and all the promises are his. "Man doth not live by bread alone; but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." Mr. M.--Who is it that judges a man to be unworthy of eternal life? Mr. R.--_Himself!!_ There is a verse in Acts xiii that is worth remembering: "Seeing ye put it [the Word of God] from you, and judge _yourselves_ unworthy of everlasting life, lo, we turn to the Gentiles." God does not judge us unworthy. He has given His Son for our salvation. When a man puts away the Word of God from him and refuses to receive Christ into his heart, he judges _himself_ unworthy of salvation. Mr. M.--I understand, then, that if a man rejects Christ to-night, he passes judgment on himself as unworthy of eternal life? Mr. R.--He is judging himself unworthy, while God does not so consider him. God says you are welcome to eternal life. Mr. M.--If any one here wants to please God to-night, how can he do it? Mr. R.--God delights in mercy. Come to God and claim His mercy in Christ; and you will delight His heart. Mr. M.--Suppose a man say he is not "elected?" Mr. R.--Do you remember the story of the woman of Canaan? Poor soul; she had come a long journey. She asked the Lord to have mercy on her afflicted child. He wanted to try her faith, and He said: "I am not sent but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." That looked as if He Himself told her that she was not one of the elect. But she came and worshipped Him, saying, "Lord, help me!" and He helped her there and then. No; there is no election separating between the sinner and Christ. Mr. M.--Say that again. Mr. R.--There is no election separating between the sinner and christ. Mr. M.--What is there between the sinner and Christ? Mr. R.--Mercy!! Mercy!! Mr. M.--That brings me near to Christ. Mr. R.--So near that we cannot be nearer. But we must claim it. In John we get God's teaching about election. "This is the Father's will which hath sent Me, that of all which He hath given Me I should lose _nothing_; but should raise it up again at the last day." He will do his work, you may depend upon it. Then in the next verse we read: "And this is the will of Him that sent Me, that _every one_ which seeth the Son, and _believeth_ on Him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day." That is the part I am to take: and when I have done so I shall know the Father's will concerning me. Mr. M.--What do you mean by the New Birth? Mr. R.--I judge it by what I know of the Old Birth. I was born of human parents into the human family; so I belong to Adam's race by nature and by generation, and I inherit Adam's sin and curse accordingly. The new birth is from my union by faith with the second Adam; but this is by _grace_, not nature: and when I receive the Lord Jesus Christ I am born of God--not by generation, but by regeneration. As I am united to the first Adam by nature and generation, so I am united by faith through grace and regeneration to the second Adam, and inherit all His fullness accordingly. Mr. M.--What is the meaning of being "saved by the Blood?" Mr. R.--A gentleman asked me that in the inquiry-room; "What do you mean by the shed Blood?" It is the poured-out life of the Son of God forfeited as the atonement for sinners' sins. Mr. M.--Is it available now? Mr. R.--Yes; as much as ever it was. Mr. M.--You mean it is just as powerful to-day as it was eighteen hundred years ago when He shed it? Mr. R.--If the blood of Abel cried out for vengeance against his slayer, how much more does the blood of Christ cry out for pardon for all who plead it! "It cleanseth (present tense) from all sin." Mr. M.--How do you get faith? Mr. R.--By hearing God's Word. "Faith cometh by hearing; and hearing by the Word of God." Mr. M.--How do you get the Holy Ghost? Mr. R.--In the same way as you get faith. The Holy Ghost uses the Word as the chariot by which He enters the believer's soul. The Gospel is called "the ministration of the Spirit." Mr. M.--Is the Word of God addressed to all here? Mr. R.--"He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith to the Churches" (Rev. iii 22). Mr. M.--What is the Gospel? Mr. R.--"Good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people." If our Gospel, proclaiming life, pardon, and peace, is not as applicable for salvation to the vilest harlot here as to the greatest saint in London, it is not Christ's Gospel we preach. Mr. M.--What reason does the Scripture give tor the Gospel being hid to some? Mr. R.--It is "hid to them that are lost; in whom the God of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious Gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine into them." May God open all our eyes, and take away the veil of unbelief with which the devil may be blinding any of us! Mr. M.--Are there not many who give an intellectual assent to all these things; and who yet have no power, and no divine life? Mr. R.--An intellectual assent is not faith. I have never found anyone who really believed God's Word who did not get power in believing it. People may _assent_ to it; but I do not admit that that is believing it. I do not think there is any man or woman here who really believes the Gospel of the grace of God, who has not been taught it by the Holy Ghost. I could easily cross-examine any one of those "intellectual believers" who imagines he believes God, but really does not; and he would break down in a few minutes. Mr. M.--For whom, then, did Christ die? Mr. R.--For "the ungodly." Mr. M.--Why is salvation obtained by faith? Mr. R.--That it might be by grace. "For this cause it is of faith, that it may be according to grace?" Mr. M.--How may a man know if he has eternal life? Mr. R.--By not treating God as if He were a liar, when He tells us He has given us eternal life in His Son. Mr. M.--What is the means by which the New Birth we were speaking of is effected? Mr. R.--"Of His own will begat He us with the _word of truth_." "Being _born again_, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the _Word of God_ . . . . and this is the Word, which by the Gospel is preached unto you." "Oh, the wondrous love of Jesus To redeem us with His blood! Through His all-atoning merit, He has brought us near to God: For the boundless grace that saves us We His name will magnify; He is coming in His glory, We shall see Him by and by! Oh, the wondrous love of Jesus To redeem our souls from death! We will thank Him, we will praise Him, While His mercy lends us breath: We are waiting--only waiting-- Till He comes our souls to bear To the Home beyond the shadows, In His Kingdom over there!" _F. J. Crosby_ III.--MR. MOODY AND MR. RADSTOCK. WHAT IT IS TO BE CONVERTED. MR. MOODY: Christ says, "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." What is it to be converted? Mr. Radstock: To be "converted" is to turn to God, who is the only one that can save. We cannot save ourselves even by our religion. Therefore, in order to salvation we must turn to God, who alone has the grace, the wisdom, and the power to save. Mr. M.--What is it to be born of the Spirit? Mr. R.--Man, by nature, cannot enter into the thoughts of God. He cannot hold communion with God until he has a new nature. The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: he has no capacity until he has the new life which God will give him by the power of the Holy Ghost. Mr. M.--Can he get that to-day if he repents? Mr. R.--Yes. Repentance means a change of mind--a turning away from his own thoughts to hear the voice and the message of God. If we listen to the voice of God and confess our sins, God is "faithful and just to forgive us our sins." Mr. M.--To whom are we to confess our sins? Mr. R.--When the light of God comes in, we see that we are guilty before him; then we are constrained to go and lay our case before Him. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us. Mr. M.--There is a passage that says the Lord Jesus Christ bear our sins. In what sense did He bear our sins. Mr. R.--The Lord Jesus Christ had really laid to His charge sins which He had never committed. He was punished as if He had been the sinner. Therefore on the cross He cried out, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" God was dealing with Jesus as if He had really been the guilty one. Mr. M.--Do we get any help by believing that? Mr. R.--When I believe God's testimony, God's witness about Jesus, I then can trust myself to God, Giving myself to God, God becomes my Saviour. Mr. M.--Have these friends the power to believe? Mr. R.--They are commanded to believe. They can believe it just as well as they can believe any other fact, if they only listen to God's voice. But they must get rid of their own thoughts, and listen to God: Hearing His voice they will believe. "Faith cometh by hearing: and hearing by the Word of God." Mr. M.--All the sinner has to do is to repose in the promises of God? Mr. R.--Simply to trust Himself to God. Mr. M.--What would you say to a man who says he has tried a good many times and failed; and who has become discouraged? Mr. R.--That man has probably made a good many resolutions, hoping that he would gradually make himself a Christian by going through this or that process, or by doing this or that thing. Of course he failed, because he tried to make himself a Christian. Instead of trying to save himself, let him trust in God, who has pledged His word that every one who believes on the Lord Jesus Christ has at that moment everlasting life. Mr. M.--Should a man not break off from some of his sins before he comes to God? Suppose he swears or has a bad temper, should he not get a little control over his temper, or stop swearing, before he comes to Christ? Mr. R.--God knows that a man's nature is wrong: therefore He has promised to give a man a new nature. We must therefore go to God, just as a man goes to a physician, because he needs to be cured of some disease. Mr. M.--Can a drunkard or a blasphemer be saved all at once? Mr. R.--Paul says: "To him that worketh not, but believeth on Him that justifieth the ungodly" bad people, lost people, ruined people--"his faith is counted for righteousness." When he believes God, God becomes his Saviour. God is the friend of sinners. Mr. M.--What is it to believe God? Mr. R.--To take Him at His word. Mr. M.--Do you not think there are a good many here who believe that Jesus Christ is the Saviour of the world; and yet they are not saved? Mr. R.--No doubt; because they have not believed for themselves. A man at the time of the Deluge, for instance, might have said, "Yes, I believe it is a very good ark indeed; and that it will save those who get into it." But it does not follow that he got into it himself. The ark only saved those who went into it. So, when a man trusts in Jesus Christ for himself, Jesus becomes his personal and eternal Saviour. Mr. M.--What if he should fall into sin after he has believed in Christ? Mr. R.--"These things write I unto you that ye sin not," says John; "and if any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father." The Good Physician will not give up His case because of the disease; He will deal with it. The Good Shepherd will not turn His poor wandering sheep away; He will go after it, and bring it back. He has promised that He will save His people _from_ their sins. Mr. M.--Is salvation within the reach of every man here tonight? Mr. R.--Jesus said, "God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son, that _whosoever_ believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Mr. M.--But some say they do not feel that; they do not realize it. Mr. R.--When they take God at His word, and cast themselves upon Him, whether they feel it or not--when they confess Jesus Christ as their Lord--the Holy Ghost will come as a power to make them realize it. For instance, a man at the time of the Deluge might have stood outside the ark, and said, "I cannot realize how this ark will lift me up above the waters." But if he were inside when the flood came he would realize it. The sinner must believe first, and have his experience afterwards. A man is told that a certain train will take him to Edinburgh. He has never been there: he does not understand about this particular train; and he cannot realize that it will take him there. But he knows that he may trust the friend who told him; so he gets into the train. Then he realizes that he is in the train; by and by he will be able to realize that he is in Edinburgh. Mr. M.--Would you advise people to come to God as they are, with their unfeeling, treacherous, hard hearts--with any kind of heart? Mr. R.--God has provided this salvation for lost sinners--those who are thoroughly bad and corrupt. It is for such that God has shown His salvation, His love, His grace. Mr. M.--What would you say to any one who thinks he has no power to believe? Mr. R.--He _has_ the power to believe. Probably he is trying to believe something about himself; to feel something about himself instead of giving credit to God--He is not asked to realize this or that about himself, but to believe the faithful God. Mr. M.--Some say they have no power to overcome a besetting sin? Mr. R.--Jesus came proclaiming liberty to the captives. As we read in the beautiful words of the Church of England Prayer-book: "Though we be tied and bound by the chains of our sin, let the pitifulness of Thy mercy save us." Jesus Christ takes the prisoners of sin and breaks off their chains. Mr. M.--There is something said about confessing Christ. Would you advise any one who wants to become a Christian to start right here by confessing Christ with the mouth? Mr. R.--God is already on your side, whoever you are. Christ is Immanuel--God with us and for us. He is already on your side, whether you believe it or not. Now it is for you to decide whether He shall be your Saviour. He says that if you own Him as Lord--who is now the one rejected by the world--He is responsible to be your Saviour from that moment. 
60107	----	[Transcriber's notes: This production is based on https://archive.org/details/fiveminutesermon00paul/page/n4] {i} Five Minute Sermons For Low Masses on all Sundays of the Year by Priests of the Congregation of St. Paul Volume I. Frederick Pustet & Co., Printers to the Holy Apostolic see and The Sacred Congregation of Rites. Ratisbon Rome New York Cincinnati {ii} Copyright, 1879 Fr. Pustet & Co., New York and Cincinnati {iii} Preface. These short sermons were commenced in St. Paul's Church, New York, toward the close of the year 1876. The motive for doing this was that the great number of persons who generally attend only a Low Mass on Sundays might enjoy the advantage of hearing the word of God preached, without being delayed too long for their convenience. For this reason they were limited in time to five minutes, while the effort was made to condense within this brief compass a sufficient amount of matter at once instructive and hortatory, in plain and simple language, to answer the practical purposes of a popular discourse. In order to secure this twofold object of making the sermons so short that they would not overrun the limit of five minutes, and at the same time so solid and pungent that they would furnish a real nutriment and stimulus to the minds and hearts of the audience, it was obviously necessary that they should be carefully written out. For each priest to write and commit to memory his own sermon would be undertaking too much; and therefore the plan was adopted of assigning to one the task of writing all the sermons, to be read by each priest celebrating a Low Mass for the people. {iv} The sermons have been published every week in the _Catholic Review_, and an advanced sheet of the printed copy, pasted on a tablet, has been furnished, to be used in preaching the sermon at each one of the Low Masses on the Sunday. The utility of these sermons, the satisfaction they give to the people who hear them, and the advantage which can be derived by reading them after they have been published, are too obvious to need explanation. This advantage we hope to make more extensive by now publishing the greater part of the sermons which have been thus far preached, and printed in a weekly newspaper, in the more convenient and permanent form of a volume. It is hoped that they will be practically useful to many priests who may read them, or use them in preparing similar short sermons of their own for those occasions when it is not practicable to give longer and more elaborate discourses to their congregations. Many of them will be found, besides, to furnish a nucleus for the composition of sermons of the usual length and rhetorical completeness. To the faithful they afford matter for spiritual reading and profitable meditation which is all the better for being put into a brief and simple shape. {v} The merit of devising and first carrying into execution this excellent plan of preaching the Five-Minute Sermons at Low Mass belongs to the late Rev. Algernon A. Brown, C.S.P. It is quite proper to praise the works of one who has departed this life, even though he was one of our own society. Many of the sermons written by Father Brown and contained in the present volume are masterpieces in the art of miniature discourse. They are not fragments or sections of sermons, reading like pages taken from longer discourses or meditations, but genuine sermonettes, each one complete and perfect in itself. They are marked, also, by a grave and solemn earnestness remarkable in the utterances of so very young a priest, and seeming to be like a shadow from a very near proximity to the eternal world, cast over his spirit as he rapidly drew near to the goal of his appointed course. It will surely be deemed appropriate, and prove agreeable to the readers of this volume of sermons, that a few lines should be consecrated to the memory of the one who may justly be called its author, although the greater portion of its actual contents came from others who succeeded to him in the task from which he was called away at so early a period of his sacerdotal life. Father Algernon Brown, the son of a respectable physician who is still living and resides in the Isle of Wight, was born at Cobham, Surrey, England, May 30, 1848. He was bred in the Established Church of England, and during his early youth was educated at a ritualistic school in Brighton. {vi} His tastes and predilections were ecclesiastical, and he entered warmly into the study and practice of the doctrinal, moral, and liturgical views and ways of the Anglican ritualists. At the age of eighteen he was received into the Catholic Church by Father Knox, of the Oratory, and went first to St. Edmund's College, afterwards to Prior Park, in order to prepare himself for the priesthood. After nearly completing his course, and having already received minor orders, he came in 1871, with two younger brothers, both converts, and one of the two an ecclesiastical student, to the United States, and was ordained priest by the Most Rev. Archbishop Purcell in the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, May 25, 1872. In the year 1874 he was received as a member of the Congregation of Paulists after a year's novitiate. During the four years which elapsed between this period and that of his death Father Brown suffered continually, and often severely, from ill health, yet nevertheless continued to labor bravely and cheerfully, beyond his strength, until he was actually overpowered by fatal disease. His special department of work lay in the direction of the sacristy and of the ceremonies at the public offices of divine worship, and the management of the devout confraternities established in the parish. His accurate knowledge of the rubrics, ceremonial, and sacred chant, his ardent zeal for the order and decorum of the divine service, and his untiring assiduity in the work assigned him, were equally valuable to the religious community of which he was a member, and edifying to the people. {vii} After the Easter of 1877 his failing health obliged him to make a visit to his native England and his paternal home as the last hope of prolonging his life. In the following autumn he returned, enjoying a considerable but only temporary amelioration in his physical condition, which soon after began to grow sensibly worse. On the Feast of the Immaculate Conception he attempted for the last time by a heroic effort to say Mass, but was prevented by a fainting-fit which prostrated him at the foot of the altar as he was commencing the Introit. From this day forward he was slowly dying, until at last, after long and careful preparation, he closed his eyes peacefully under the icy hand of death. His death occurred on Monday in Passion Week, the 8th of April, 1878, at the age of twenty-nine years and eleven months, and his solemn obsequies were celebrated on the following Wednesday. All the sermons in this volume which can be identified with certainty as his are marked with his initial letter, B. May they long remain unfaded, a bouquet of immortelles. [Transcribers's note: His full name has been substituted for "B" and a "B" has been inserted in the Table of Contents entry.] In MEMORIAM! St. Paul's Church, Ninth Avenue And Fifty-ninth Street, New York. Feast of All Saints, 1879. {viii}. Five Minute Sermons Volume 1. {ix} Contents. First Sunday of Advent: Sermon I., B. 18 Sermon II., 20 Sermon III., 22 Second Sunday of Advent: Sermon IV., B. 27 Sermon V., 30 Sermon VI., 32 Third Sunday of Advent: Sermon VII., B. 37 Sermon VIII., 39 Sermon IX., 42 Fourth Sunday of Advent: Sermon X., B. 47 Sermon XI., 49 Sermon XII., 52 Sunday within the Octave of Christmas: Sermon XIII., B. 56 Sermon XIV., 59 Sermon XV., 62 The Epiphany: Sermon XVI., 66 Sermon XVII., 68 {x} First Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XVII., B. 73 Sermon XIX., 75 Second Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XX., B. 80 Sermon XXI., 83 Sermon XXII., 86 Third Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XXIII., B. 91 Sermon XXIV., 93 Fourth Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XXV., 97 Sermon XXVI., 100 Sermon XXVII., 103 Fifth Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XXVIII., 108 Sermon XXIX., 111 Sixth Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XXX., B. 115 Sermon XXXI., 118 Septuagesima Sunday Sermon XXXII., B. 122 Sermon XXXIII., 125 Sermon XXXIV., 127 Sexagesima Sunday: Sermon XXXV., B. 133 Sermon XXXVI., 136 Sermon XXXVII., 138 {xi} Quinquagesima Sunday: Sermon XXXVIII., B. 142 Sermon XXXIX., 145 Sermon XL., 147 First Sunday of Lent: Sermon XLI., 152 Sermon XLII., 154 Sermon XLIII., B. 157 Second Sunday of Lent: Sermon XLIV., 161 Sermon XLV., B. 164 Sermon XLVI., 166 Third Sunday of Lent: Sermon XLVII., 170 Sermon XLVIII., B. 173 Sermon XLIX., 175 Fourth Sunday of Lent: Sermon L., 179 Sermon LI., B. 182 Passion Sunday: Sermon LII., 186 Sermon LIII., B. 188 Sermon LIV., 192 Palm Sunday Sermon LV., B. 196 Sermon LVI., 198 Sermon LVII., 200 {xii} Easter Sunday: Sermon LVIII., B. 204 Sermon LIX., 207 Sermon LX., 210 Low Sunday: Sermon LXI., B. 214 Sermon LXII., 217 Sermon LXIII., 219 Second Sunday after Easter: Sermon LXIV. 223 Sermon LXV., B. 225 Sermon LXVI., 227 Third Sunday after Easter: Sermon LXVII., B. 233 Sermon LXVIII., 235 Sermon LXIX., 238 Fourth Sunday after Easter: Sermon LXX., B. 242 Sermon LXXI., 245 Sermon LXXII., 248 Fifth Sunday after Easter: Sermon LXXIII., 252 Sermon LXXIV., 254 Sermon LXXV., 257 Sunday within the Octave of the Ascension: Sermon LXXVI., 260 Sermon LXXVII., 263 Sermon LXXVIII., 265 {xiii} Feast of Pentecost, or Whit-Sunday: Sermon LXXIX., 269 Sermon LXXX., 272 Sermon LXXXI., 274 Trinity Sunday: Sermon LXXXII., 279 Sermon LXXXIII., 282 Sermon LXXXIV., 284 Second Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon LXXXV., 289 Sermon LXXXVI., 292 Sermon LXXXVII., 295 Third Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon LXXXVIII., 299 Sermon LXXXIX., B. 301 Sermon XC., 304 Fourth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon XCI., 308 Sermon XCII., 311 Fifth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon XCIII., B. 315 Sermon XCIV., 317 Sixth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon XCV., 321 Sermon XCVI., 323 Sermon XCVII., 388 {xiv} Seventh Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon XCVIII., 330 Sermon XCIX., 332 Sermon C., 335 Eighth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CI., 339 Sermon CII., 342 Sermon CIII., 344 Ninth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CIV., 349 Sermon CV., 352 Tenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CVI., 356 Sermon CVII., 359 Sermon CVIII., 361 Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CIX., 366 Sermon CX., 369 Sermon CXI., 371 Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXII., 376 Sermon CXIII., B. 378 Sermon CXIV., 381 Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXV., B. 385 Sermon CXVI., 388 Sermon CXVII., 390 {xv} Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXVIII., B. 394 Sermon CXIX., 397 Sermon CXX., 400 Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXI., B. 404 Sermon CXXII., 406 Sermon CXXIII., 409 Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXIV., B. 413 Sermon CXXV., 416 Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXVI., B. 420 Sermon CXXVII., B. 422 Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXVIII., 426 Sermon CXXIX., 428 Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXX., B. 433 Sermon CXXXI., 436 Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXXII., B. 440 Sermon CXXXIII., 442 Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXXIV., 447 {xvi} Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXXV., B. 452 Sermon CXXXVI., 454 Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXXVII., B. 459 Sermon CXXXVIII., B. 461 Sermon CXXXIX., 463 Twenty-fourth or Last Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXL., B. 468 Sermon CXLI., 471 Sermon CXLII., 474 {17} _First Sunday of Advent_ Epistle. _Romans xiii_. 11-14, Brethren: Know that it is now the hour for us to rise from sleep. For now our salvation is nearer than when we believed. The night is passed, and the day is at hand. Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light; let us walk honestly as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not in contention and envy; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ. Gospel. _St. Luke xxi._ 25-33. At that time Jesus said to his disciples: There shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars: and upon the earth distress of nations, by reason of the confusion of the roaring of the sea and of the waves, men withering away for fear, and expectation of what shall come upon the whole world. For the powers of heaven shall be moved: and then they shall see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with great power and majesty. But when these things begin to come to pass, look up and lift up your heads: because your redemption is at hand. And he spoke to them a similitude. See the fig-tree, and all the trees: when they now shoot forth their fruit, you know that summer is nigh; so you also when you shall see these things come to pass, know that the kingdom of God is at hand. Amen I say to you this generation shall not pass away, till all things be fulfilled. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away. {18} Sermon I. _Heaven and earth shall pass away_. --St. Luke xxi. 33. Ah! my friend, how are you? How do you do? Where are you going? These are everyday expressions, dear brethren. Probably some neighbor spoke to you thus as you were coming to Mass. This is the first Sunday in Advent, the Sunday of judgment, and I am going to put the same questions to you. I begin with the last one. Where are you going? Young men, old men, women, girls, children, people, priests, rich and poor, where are all of you going? Are you going to church or for a walk? No, we have a trial at court and are summoned to appear. Whose trial? Our own. Yes, we are all going to judgment, the trial of eternity before the all-seeing Judge. We are all formed in a great procession. No matter whether we are good or bad, in a state of grace or of mortal sin, no matter whether our case is a good one or a bad one, no matter if our cause be just or unjust, we are all going to judgment--all going to the great trial, in which every living soul, each man and woman and child, shall be the prisoners at the bar, and God, the judge of all, shall sit upon the great white Throne. When will that trial-day come? No one knows, not even the angels, our Lord says. Judgment will come suddenly. Time has been given you. You have been told "beforehand." The _actual_ coming will be sudden. "Behold, I come as a thief in the night." "Behold, I come quickly." "Behold, I come as the lightning." Such are the terms in which our Lord speaks of his second advent. When men are eating and drinking, marrying, buying, and selling, burying the dead, laboring, praying, waking or sleeping, _then_ there will be a cry heard, "Behold, the Bridegroom cometh; go ye forth to meet Him." {19} Go forth just as you are; just as the moment finds you; without a moment more to prepare, without an instant in which to say, "God help me!" Where are you going, then? Going to judgment. Going to a _sudden_ judgment. Going to meet accusers who will rise out of the graves of earth and from the pit of hell to bear witness against sinners for all the commandments they have broken, all the duties they have neglected, all the scandal and bad example they have given. Woe to bad parents in that day! Woe to disobedient children in that day! Woe to the drunken, the impure, the thieves, the liars, the false witnesses, the apostates in that day! Ah! then, how do _you_ do. Christian, Catholic? How are you, baptized of God? How is your health, the health of your soul? Are you in the fever of sin? Do you see upon your souls great livid plague-spots of mortal offences against the Almighty? Then tremble, for you have to face the God "whose eyes are brighter than the noonday sun"! He will ask: "How are you? What mean these stains upon your soul? Where is the white garment that I gave you? Where is my image and likeness?" Woe to every one who cannot answer these questions; for to be unable to answer means to be unable to go to heaven, means that you will be found guilty by the Eternal Judge and condemned to everlasting death. Let, then, these two questions ring in your ears: Where are you going? How are you in God's sight? You are going to judgment. Are you in a fit state to appear there? Brethren, it will be an awful day, that day of judgment, even for the just. {20} "Where, then, shall the unjust and the sinner appear?" Look up to the heavens as you leave this church. The clouds are not yet riven. The sun is not yet darkened. Oh! then there is yet time. There is a moment's lull before the storm breaks; a second's pause before the trumpet sounds. But the day of judgment _will come_, for Jesus Christ has told us so, and, as he says: "Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away." Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------ Sermon II. _Brethren: Know that it is now the hour for us to rise from sleep._ --Romans xiii. 11. To-day, my dear brethren, is the New Year's Day of the Catholic Church. Today she begins again that round of seasons and festivals which will never cease to be repeated till that day comes of which this season of Advent reminds us--that day in which, as St. Peter tells us, "the heavens shall pass away with great violence, and the elements shall be melted with heat, and the earth and the works which are in it shall be burnt up"; that day when He who died for us on the cross shall come to judge the living and the dead. The church begins her year with Advent, because this season represents principally, not that last coming of our Lord of which I have just spoken, but rather that time which went before his first coming--that long period of several thousand years, answering to the four weeks of this season, with which the world's history began, and in which it was waiting for the promise of redemption to be fulfilled. {21} But there is another very good reason for each one of us to begin our own new year now, and it is one of the reasons why the second advent of Christ is presented to our minds by the church, as well as his first, at this time. It is that we may now make that serious examination of our past life, and those firm resolutions for the future, that we can best make at the beginning of a new year, when we feel most strongly that one more of those short cycles by which our life is measured has gone for ever beyond our reach, and brought us so much nearer not only to the day of general judgment, but also to that more imminent one in which each one of us shall stand alone before the throne of God to give an account of the use which we have made of these precious years which he has given us, and which are passing so rapidly away. This new year's day of the church is a time, then, above all others in which we should make those resolutions without which we cannot be saved. It is said that hell is paved with good intentions; it may with equal truth be said that heaven is paved with good resolutions. What is the difference between the two? An intention is a purpose the carrying out of which is put off till some other time; a resolution is one which is carried out now. So, as the putting off of our good purposes is the sure way to lose our souls, the carrying them out at once is the means absolutely necessary to salvation and certain to secure it. {22} No one ever saved his soul without some time or other making a resolution to keep the law of God, and going to work at once to carry it out, and persevering in it to the end of life, Such a resolution has got to be made at some time, and now is the time to make it. Look back, then, my brethren, on this first day of the new year, at the one which has just gone never to return, and see if you are satisfied with the way you have spent it. Ask yourselves if you have not been trifling away enough of the short time which was given you to be spent in the service of God, and if there is any too much left to make some recompense to him for all that he has done for you; and say, with the church in the Epistle of this Sunday, that now it is indeed the hour to rise from sleep, from this fatal sleep of indifference and ingratitude, and go to work in real earnest on the business of your salvation, and not rest again till the time for rest has come. God will surely give that eternal rest to those who labor during life, but he has not promised it to sluggards and traitors, as those certainly are who care only for themselves and not for him, and who expect their reward without doing anything to deserve such a favor at his hands. ---------------------------- Sermon III. _Heaven and earth shall pass away._ --St. Luke xxi. 33. By the word "heaven" our Lord does not mean that heaven to which we shall be admitted if we are faithful, for that, as we know, is eternal. No; he means some part of the visible heavens with which our earth is immediately connected. {23} The earth, and to some extent the visible heaven also, we do not know how, will pass away as to their present state--they will be so changed that it may be said that the old earth and the old heaven have been destroyed. It is to remind us of this second coming, or advent, of our Lord, when the world and all that it contains shall pass away, as well as of his first coming, which we are to celebrate at Christmas, that the church keeps this season on which we have just entered, and calls it by this name of Advent. This truth, that the heavens and earth which we see shall pass away, or be destroyed, is a matter of faith. We cannot, probably, prove by science that this must take place, certainly not that such a change is so near as the Scriptures seem to indicate; but we do not need the light of faith to show us that they shall pass away from _us_, and that, perhaps, very soon. In a few years--perhaps in a few months or days--we shall close our eyes in death, and the heavens and earth which we now see shall disappear from our sight for ever. There are two lessons which we may learn from this evident and certain truth, and which the church wishes us to consider at this time. The first is that the pleasures of this world are so fleeting and uncertain that it is not worth while for us to take any pains to secure them. We can only hold them for a little while at the most; they are like the treasures which one sometimes possesses in a dream and which melt away in the hands on waking. A moment after death it will make no difference to us whether we have had them or not; they will seem to have been possessed only as in a dream when we wake to the reality of the next world. {24} "They have slept their sleep," says the Psalmist, "and all the men of riches have found nothing in their hands." The life of one who makes pleasure his object is like a sleep; and, as St. Paul warns us in the Epistle of to-day, "it is now the hour for us to rise from sleep. For now our salvation is nearer than when we believed." Our real salvation, the only life which is really worth enjoying, is coming very soon. This life is only a season of Advent to prepare for that eternal festival to which we have been invited by the King of kings. So, as our first conclusion is that it is not worth while to seek for the pleasures of this life, our second is that it is not a matter for great grief if we have pain and affliction in it. One would not mind suffering for a day, or even for a week, if the rest of only this short mortal life was to be passed in uninterrupted enjoyment. So, if it be the will of God, perhaps we can manage to pass a few years in pain and sorrow, with the promise, which will not fail us, of happiness that shall be eternal. Especially when we remember that pain and sorrow in this life make that promise all the more sure. "Blessed are ye poor," says our Lord, "for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are ye that hunger now, for ye shall be filled. Blessed are ye that weep now, for ye shall laugh. ... Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." "Behold," he says, "I come quickly, and my reward is with me, to render to every man according to his works." {25} Let this, then, be our care, not to seek pleasure nor to avoid pain which shall soon pass away, but so to live that we shall be anxious to meet him and have a well-grounded hope of receiving that reward; that when he says, "Surely I come quickly," we may be able to answer with the apostle, "Amen. Come, Lord Jesus." For that life is the best in which one is most willing and ready to die; in which one hears most gladly that this heaven and this earth shall pass away. ------------- {26} _Second Sunday of Advent_ Epistle. _Romans xv._ 4-13. Brethren: What things soever were written, were written for our instruction; that through patience and the comfort of the Scriptures, we might have hope. Now the God of patience and of comfort grant you to be of one mind one towards another, according to Jesus Christ: that with one mind, and with one mouth, you may glorify God and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Wherefore receive one another, as Christ also hath received you unto the honor of God. For I say that Christ Jesus was minister of the circumcision for the truth of God, to confirm the promises made to the fathers. But that the Gentiles are to glorify God for his mercy, as it is written: Therefore will I confess to thee, O Lord, among the Gentiles, and will sing to thy name. And again he saith: Rejoice, ye Gentiles, with his people. And again: Praise the Lord, all ye Gentiles; and magnify him, all ye people. And again Isaias saith: There shall be a root of Jesse; and he that shall rise up to rule the Gentiles, in him the Gentiles shall hope. Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing: that you may abound in hope, and in the power of the Holy Ghost. Gospel. _St. Matthew xi._ 2-10. At that time: When John had heard in prison the works of Christ, sending two of his disciples he said to him: Art thou he that art to come, or look we for another? And Jesus making answer said to them: Go and relate to John what you have heard and seen. The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead rise again, the poor have the gospel preached to them. And blessed is he that shall not be scandalized in me. {27} And when they went their way, Jesus began to say to the multitudes concerning John: What went you out into the desert to see? a reed shaken with the wind? But what went you out to see? a man clothed in soft garments? Behold they that are clothed in soft garments are in the houses of kings. But what went you out to see? a prophet? yea, I tell you, and more than a prophet. For this is he of whom it is written: Behold, I send my Angel before thy face, who shall prepare thy way before thee. ----------------- Sermon IV. _Behold, I send my Angel before thy face._ --St. Matthew xi. 10. I suppose, brethren, among the first things you remember hearing of in your childhood were "_the angels of God_" or, as people often say, "_the angels of God in heaven_." You remember, I am sure, how pleased you were to look at their pictures, with sweet faces and large, outstretched wings, and how glad you were when you were told that one of those guardian spirits was always by your side. But this morning I want to speak to you, not of the "angels of God in heaven," but of the _angels of God on earth_. And who are _they?_ you will ask. Are they spirits? Have they wings like the angels we saw years ago in the picture-book? No, they have not wings; they are not pure spirits; they are men, women, and children just like ourselves. The word "angel" means a messenger, one who is sent with tidings. Thus St. John Baptist (who was sent to tell the world that Jesus Christ was coming) is called in to-day's Gospel "an angel"--that is, a messenger from God. Now, brethren, all of us ought to be messengers of God to our neighbor and to the world. {28} We are all Catholics, have all been called to know the true faith, and we have all been taught how to observe God's moral law. First, then, we Catholics ought to be the _angels of God on earth_ to those who are not Catholics. We ought to do our best in our own little circle to spread the knowledge of our holy religion. By our lives we ought to show the world that the Catholic religion makes us better citizens, better and more honest men of business, and truer lovers of our neighbors and mankind. Many of you "live out" at service in Protestant or infidel families; many of you are working for non-Catholic employers; many are employed in factories, surrounded by those who belong to false religions or who have no religion at all. Oh! what chances such have to be _angels of God on earth_. You can show by your fidelity to work, by your strict honesty, by your modest behavior, that you belong to a religion which comes from God. By a seasonable word, by the loan of a book, by showing your horror of cursing and swearing and of bad talk, you would be doing God's work, and showing to those outside the church that there is _something_ in your belief which makes you good. Have you done this? Have you not, on the contrary, often scandalized our non-Catholic friends by your bad example, your dishonesty, your exhibitions of temper, your outbursts of blasphemy, and your consent to what was impure? Ah! when you do these things you are the _angels of the devil on earth_. You are doing his work and bearing his message. Again, to your own Catholic brethren and to your own family you can be _angels of God on earth!_ Have you got a scandalous neighbor, a negligent father or mother, a wicked child, a profligate husband or son? {29} Oh! be angels of God to these unfortunate ones. By your good example, your patience in affliction, by your charity and forbearance, your strict attention to your religious duties, and, in short, by a really good life, you will be able to "prepare the way of the Lord." You will "go before his face" to prepare the way for his graces. Don't let it be said by those who are not good Catholics, "I don't see that those who go to their duties are any better than I am." Show them that you are better, and that it is _religion_ that makes you so. "Example is better than precept." Actions speak louder than words. Oh! then be angels of God to those outside the church, be angels of God to your children, to your parents, to your friends and neighbors. Once there was a child who had been very badly brought up by his parents. He went to church by chance one day, and heard an instruction on the laws of the church. When he came home, although it was Friday, there was meat for dinner. The boy would not eat it. Furious at this, his bad parents beat him; but the child remained firm, till at last, touched by his example, the parents converted themselves and lived as good Catholics. That boy was an angel of God on earth. "Go ye and do in like manner," and then our Lord Jesus Christ, the "Angel of the great covenant," will summon you at death to take your place among his holy angels, with whom you shall be glorified and chant his praises for ever and ever. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------- {30} Sermon V. _He that is not with me is against me._ --St. Matthew xii. 30. There are many Christians who do not seem to know that they are Christians. They do not seem to realize what the word Christian means; or, if they do, they do not act as if they did. They do not understand, if we are to judge them by their actions, that it is the name of one of the two great parties in this world--the party of Christ and that of Anti-christ. The issues between these two parties are more important than those between any others that ever have been or ever will be; for they are questions not only of time but of eternity. And the principles of these parties are so different that no compromise between them is possible. They are fighting with each other for the possession of the world, and neither will be satisfied till complete victory is gained--that is, till the other ceases to be. Every one has got to belong to one of these parties. It is impossible for any one to remain neutral in this contest and a mere spectator of it. Every one has got to be on one side or the other. This is what our Lord himself says: "He that is not with me is against me." Every one, then, that does not wish to be on the devil's side has got to be on that of Christ. But this is just what a great many of you, my dear friends, do not, I am afraid, see so clearly as you should. You often try, I fear, to stand off and be on neither side when duty requires you to come out boldly on the side to which you belong. {31} Perhaps, for instance, you are compelled to associate daily with persons--either infidels, Protestants, or bad Catholics--whose mouths are full of impious or impure talk, which they expect you to agree with or join in. They enjoy this filth and profanity, and pretend to think their foul and blasphemous jests very funny, which they very seldom are; and they expect you to laugh at them, as they themselves do. Now, I do not say that you are bound each and every time to reprove these sins, but I do say that you are sometimes. You cannot expect not to be counted among these people, and justly so counted, too, unless you say or do enough in some way to show plainly on what side you are. Do not, then, keep your faith and piety shut up in your prayer-books, only to be brought out when you are on your knees before God and no one by who will not admire you for them. No; bring them out plainly in the sight of his enemies, and let them see that you are really in earnest--that you really and truly believe that you have got a soul to save, and that your professions are not at all a pretence. For, if you do not do this, you will be carried over to the other side in spite of yourself. If you do not reprove and separate yourself from what is sinful, you will join in it. Your own experience ought to show you that. Your effort to be neither the one thing nor the other, neither God's servant nor the devil's, always has been in vain and always will be. For the Eternal Truth has said, "He that is not with me is against me." {32} Yes, my brethren, it is certain that if you will not confess Christ boldly and openly before men; if you will not acknowledge that his faith and his morals are yours also; if you will not bravely and generously take his part in the great battle which he is fighting in this world, and in which he has enlisted you to fight under him; but if, on the other hand, you sneak off into a corner and stay there as long as his enemies are in sight, he will not count you as his servants or friends, and you will not be so, either in this world or in the world to come. "He that shall deny me before men, I will also deny him before my Father who is in heaven." And if you will not confess him, you must deny him; there is no middle course. Be not, then, runaways, but brave soldiers in the conflict to which you are called. The enemies of Christ are not afraid to let their principles be known; if you would imitate their example the tables would be turned. They would be ashamed of themselves, if you would not be; and it is they who ought to be ashamed, not you. Moreover, God would get the glory which belongs to him, and if you will not give it to him you cannot expect him to save your mean and cowardly souls. ----------------- Sermon VI. _What went you out into the desert to see? a reed shaken with the wind?_ --St. Matthew xi. 8. --usccb.org/bible: St. Matthew xi. 7 In these words, my dear brethren, our Lord holds up the character of his great precursor, St. John Baptist, as a model for the imitation of his disciples, and also for our imitation. "St. John is not like a reed shaken with the wind; see that you follow his example"--that is the meaning and the lesson of this question asked by our Lord. {33} St. John, indeed, was not like a reed shaken with the wind. He was rather like a massive column of stone, which is not moved a hair's-breadth from its place by the most furious storms. He was firm and unyielding to all the assaults of temptation. Born free from original sin, he persevered without actual sin through the whole of his glorious life. He has set us a magnificent example of firmness and fortitude--virtues in which Christians of the present day are wofully wanting. There is a great deal of piety nowadays, but it seems often to be of a very superficial kind. It looks well, but it does not wear well. Its outside is very promising, but there Is something wanting inside, and that is a backbone. It does very well in the sheltered atmosphere of the church, but it breaks down when it is taken out of doors into the world. The assaults it seems to be weakest against are those which come from without. It stands well against interior temptations, on the whole, but it quails before even a word spoken against it. It is dreadfully afraid of what people will say. It is very much under the power of false shame and what is called human respect. It is a most lamentable sight to see people who are really in their hearts and principles thoroughly good Christians, and who might be the instruments in God's hands of a great deal of good both for his glory and the salvation of others, so terribly under the influence of human respect that their example counts almost for nothing, or perhaps is even a scandal and a discouragement to those around them. They have a great deal of faith, and they really want to avoid sin, but they do not seem to want anybody to know that such is the case. {34} One would perhaps, think they were very humble and did not want anybody to know how good they are--and I have no doubt that they do not want some people, at any rate, to think that they are good; but it is not on account of humility, but on account of fear. They are afraid of what these people will say; they tremble at the slightest breath. They are very different from St. John, and very much like reeds shaken by the wind; and it requires only a very light wind to shake them, considering the strength they ought to have. There are Catholics, for instance--and plenty of them, to the glory of our faith be it said!--who have a great horror of the dreadful sin of impurity, and would by no means of their own accord commit any offence of this kind. But their daily occupations lead them among others who have very different ideas and habits, or who, perhaps, are sinning wilfully against the clearest light. These wretched people are continually bandying jests or telling stories which show the corruption of their minds. Out of the abundance of their hearts their mouths are always speaking; they are bad trees, and all the time bringing forth bad fruit. Well, do our good Christians show any disgust for these things? Oh! no; they will say they cannot help laughing at them. I am afraid they are deceiving themselves; they could help it, if they dared to help it. They would seldom or never laugh if such foul things occurred to their own mind; they would be too much afraid of God. But now their fear of God disappears before their fear of man. {35} Or these good Christians meet with people who, either through ignorance or malice, ridicule and blaspheme the Catholic Church and the true faith. Perhaps these people only need to find some Catholic who will stand up boldly for his religion. If any one would only confess Christ before them it might be the beginning of their conversion. But, instead of coming out fearlessly for the truth, our good Christians are afraid of being thought foolish or priest-ridden; and if they acknowledge that they are Catholics at all, it is only to compromise or deny what they in their hearts believe, so that people may think that they are pretty good Protestants after all. These instances will suffice to show what I mean. You can find plenty of others yourselves. Do so, and resolve, for the sake of God our Saviour and for the glory of his name, to put an end to this despicable cowardice, if you have been guilty of it. Catholic faith and morals are things to glory in, not to be ashamed of. And, besides, there is really nothing to fear. What you are afraid of is only like the wind which passes by; in their hearts even the wicked will honor and hold in everlasting remembrance the true and faithful servants of God. ------------------- {36} _Third Sunday of Advent_ Epistle. _Philippians iv._ 4-7. Rejoice in the Lord always: again, I say, rejoice. Let your modesty be known to all men: The Lord is nigh. Be not solicitous about anything: but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your petitions be made known to God. And the peace of God which surpasseth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Gospel. _St. John i._ 19-28. At that time: The Jews sent from Jerusalem priests and levites to John, to ask him: Who art thou? And he confessed, and did not deny: and he confessed: I am not the Christ. And they asked him: What then? Art thou Elias? And he said: I am not. Art thou the prophet? And he answered: No. They said therefore unto him: Who art thou, that we may give an answer to them that sent us? what sayest thou of thyself? He said: I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord, as said the prophet Isaias. And they that were sent, were of the Pharisees. And they asked him, and said to him: Why then dost thou baptize, if thou be not Christ, nor Elias, nor the prophet? John answered them, saying: I baptize with water; but there hath stood one in the midst of you, whom you know not. The same is he that shall come after me, who is preferred before me: the latchet of whose shoe I am not worthy to loose. These things were done in Bethania beyond the Jordan, where John was baptizing. {37} Sermon VII. _Let your modesty be known to all men._ --Philippians iv. 5. To-day, brethren, is called _Gaudete_, or Rejoicing Sunday, and is intended by the church as a little _letup_, as the people say, on the solemn season of Advent. To-day flowers deck the altars; at the High Mass the dalmatic, the deacon's vestment of joy, which has not been used for two Sundays, is again assumed. Where possible, and where the church is rich enough to buy them, rose-colored vestments should be worn. The first words of the Mass are, "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice." It is just as if the church said to you all: "Be glad and joyful; make yourselves as happy as you can." "Ah!" some of you will say, "that is just the doctrine for us; that is just what we like." Do not be too fast, my friends. Listen to what comes next. "Rejoice," says the church; but in that rejoicing, in that striving to live happily, "let your modesty be known to all men." So, then, the Christian is to be a happy man, but he is also to be a modest man--a man of simple or moderate habits. My friends, does not the shoe pinch you a little? Do you not see the cap gradually taking a form that will fit some of your heads? You men, when you are together on some festive occasion--when you have a gala-day of one kind or another--you rejoice then, it is true, but is your modesty known to all men? Have you not often aped the manners and swagger of the worldly-minded? Have you not listened to indecent stories? Have you not told some such? Oh! what scandal you give when you do these things. Then your _immodesty_ is known to all men. {38} You are going with the crowd. You are following the multitude to do evil. You are walking in the wide path that leadeth unto perdition. You unfortunate drunkards that totter as you walk, who fall in the gutter and by the wayside, is your modesty known to all men? No, your shame is known to all men, and the shame of all who belong to you. Again, what think you of the woman who, because it is the fashion, goes out to balls indecently and improperly dressed--who is not covered as becomes a Christian matron or maiden, but is so clad as to bring the blush of lust to the face of the brazen, and of shame to that of the pure in heart; or of those who go to all sort of plays and spectacles, who encourage the most questionable of dances and ballets, and bring up their children in the same spirit? Is their modesty known to all men? My friends, to find the modesty of such people would be like searching for a needle in a bundle of hay. You would never find it. You, too, who spend every cent you have upon your backs, who have almost all your hard earnings invested in dry goods and millinery, who come to church tricked out in finery which belongs neither to your state nor calling, offend also against Christian moderation and modesty. Once there was an old jackdaw who dressed himself up in peacock's feathers; then off he went among the peacocks and tried to pass for one of them. But these splendid birds soon found him out and pecked him almost to death. My friends, when you deck yourselves out in clothing, in fashions which are beyond your means, unsuited to your calling as a Christian, unfit for your state in life, and fit, indeed, for none but the vain people of the world, what are you? Nothing but jackdaws in peacock's feathers. {39} Oh! then don't make yourself ridiculous. Follow the advice of St. Paul: "Let your modesty be known to all men." These are the days of immodesty, of wasteful extravagance, of extreme vanity. Oh! then set your faces against this running tide of worldliness. Be modest, speak modestly, dress modestly, enjoy yourselves modestly. Don't dress up your children luxuriously, instilling into their minds even in childhood the spirit of vanity. Don't put on too much style or too many airs. Be happy, rejoice always, but be modest, be simple. "Let your modesty be known to all men. The Lord is nigh. For the rest, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever modest, whatsoever holy, whatsoever lovely, whatsoever of good fame, if there be any virtue, if any praise of discipline, think on these things. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit." Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ---------------------------- Sermon VIII. _There hath stood One in the midst of you, whom you know not._ --St. John i. 26. St. John spoke these words, as the Gospel tells us, not to his disciples, but to those who had been sent from Jerusalem to question him on his mission, to ask him what business he had to preach and to baptize. It may be that both those who were sent and those who sent them had no real desire to know if he were indeed a prophet, but were merely trying to make him say something which could be used against him--to set a trap for him, like those which they afterward tried to set for our Divine Lord--since his language to them certainly seems like a rebuke. {40} For who was this One who had stood in their midst, and whom they had not known? It was our Lord Jesus Christ. It was the Son of God, the Word made flesh. He had been living in their midst since his childhood, but they had not known him. Even those in his own town of Nazareth, who had often met him in their streets, who had often seen him and spoken to him, had passed him by as if he was no more than one of themselves, as if he were only a poor carpenter's boy. Now, we, my dear brethren, are something like these Jews at that time. For during our lives there has stood One also in the midst of us, whom we have not known. And it is the same One whom the thoughtless and the sinful passed in the streets of Nazareth, and whom they afterward crucified in Jerusalem. The King of Glory is in our midst at this moment; he who dwells in the tabernacle of the altar is indeed God made man. It is true for us as well as for them that we cannot see that it is he with our bodily eyes; but there is much more to point him out to us than there was to them. The church has taken care that we shall not pass him by unnoticed; all the worship of the sanctuary is directed to his throne--that poor throne in our midst which he has come down from heaven to occupy. It is because of him that the altar blazes with candles and is adorned with flowers, and that the clouds of incense rise; it is to him that we bend the knee; all the splendid ceremonial of the Catholic religion is only our poor effort to worthily honor Him who has condescended to dwell among us under the sacramental veils. {41} And yet, in spite of all the care which his church has taken, do we not too often behave as the Jews of his own time had a better excuse for behaving? A better excuse, I say, for they needed a special light to recognize him; but all we need is faith, and that we all have. But one would think that his people had no faith, to see the way in which they sometimes conduct themselves in his most holy presence. It would seem as if a Christian had not faith in that Real Presence when you see him pretend, as it were, to reverence the altar by a sort of half-genuflection, very quickly made, which looks more like a sign of disrespect than of adoration. What would you think if you should see the priest, when saying Mass, making his genuflections in this way? Well, you ought to do the same as he. Our Lord is as really before you as before him; and you are not more exalted in your station than the priest, that you can afford to treat God more familiarly. Bring the knee to the floor slowly and reverently when you pass the high altar, or any other altar, while the Blessed Sacrament is on it. And when our Lord passes in procession, or in any other way, through the church, kneel down and pray; do not stand or sit and stare about. And remember, too, that he is as really present when he goes outside the church as when he remains in it. The state of things in this country requires us to carry him to the sick without the solemnity which should be observed; but he is as truly in your houses when he comes to give himself to you there as if the priest brought him with lights and sacred vestments, with the sound of the bell, and with a train of attendants to do him honor. {42} Imagine what you would do if he should come visibly at the side of the priest, with that Face with which you are so familiar, with glory shining round him, and with the prints of the nails in his hands and feet; and do the same now. Do not stand around and talk to the priest as if he had come for a social visit; kneel down as soon as he enters the room, if the Blessed Sacrament is with him. And do not kneel leaning on a chair, with your backs to our Lord; that is a strange way to show respect for him. If you will only think who it is that stands in the midst of you, you will find out many other things which I have not time to suggest. It is not really so much want of faith as want of thought that makes people behave to our Lord in the irreverent and almost insulting way that they sometimes do. Think, then, about this matter, and you will need no rubrics to teach you what to do in the presence of Him whom you really know and love. ------------------- Sermon IX. _I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord._ --St. John i. 23. Whenever, my dear brethren, men are going to a place they always ask the way. They also make up their minds as to which is the long way, which the short way, which the most convenient and easiest way. They do this with reference to the places to which they go in this world. Now, we are all going to heaven; at least, each one of us will say, I hope I am going there. We know there are many places to which we can go in this world, and many different ways by which we can get to them. {43} There are also many places in heaven, but there is but one way of getting to any one, even to the least of them. Which is that way? Some will say it is the good way, or the way of the good man. Another will say it is attending to your duties, to your church. Yet another will say it is by keeping away from mortal sin. Each answer is a good one, but neither one brings out the important point. The true answer, and the first one to be given, is that it is God's way--the way of the Lord. Yes, my dear brethren, it is the very way, the one and only way, that our Lord Jesus Christ has travelled before us. Every step he took along this path was marked by the precious Blood from his own veins. It is the way of the cross, of sacrifice, of penance and mortification. Are we all going this way? Is each one of us now here present moving daily and hourly on this path? It is almost useless to ask this question, for I know many, very many indeed, will answer. No! It is indeed a sad truth that most people, most even of our Catholic people, are not going this way. But why is this? One reason is because they do not try, sincerely and earnestly, to fix in the mind that this is the only condition upon which any soul can be saved. For our Lord himself declares that unless a man take up his cross _daily_ and follow him he cannot be his disciple. They do not realize that there is an absolute necessity, an unchangeable law in this assertion. God has said it, and will not unsay it. Yet how quickly will men stop a business or a transaction that will surely cause them to lose their money! How quickly will they turn from a road that is sure to lead to death! They realize the necessity when property and life are to be lost; but they will not see or feel the same necessity when their souls and eternal life are most certainly to be forever lost. {44} Again, they are discouraged because the way is hard and difficult. Show me any way in life not hard and difficult. Ask the father, the mother, the single man, the married man. Ask the rich and the poor, the old and the young, the active business man, the idle and slothful man, as well as the common tramp. All have the same answer--that life is a hard road any way you may take it. Man, then, is reduced to the necessity of suffering and mortification. The secret of this is that all men are under sin, all poisoned by it. The only remedy is to cure ourselves, to get rid of this poison. The way of the Lord is the way given us to go in order to find this cure. All along this way we find the remedy at every turn. It is found in a good confession, in true penance and mortification, in the sacrament of the altar, the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which is intended to nourish our souls and to act against this terrible poison. Make straight, then, the way of the Lord. Do not be terrified by trouble, pain, and difficulties of any kind. Do not permit the devil to make you think it will always last, always be the same. These difficulties become less and less by degrees. They wear away, as it were, or God so fills the soul with strength and patience that it is the same in the end. We then bear easily by the grace of God that which was so troublesome at first. {45} Set to work, then, at once. Let your souls be ready for the holy Feast of Christmas. Remember that we must celebrate that as Christians ought to do. Gratitude, love, Christian manliness, and honor require that all shall celebrate the birthday of a suffering God in such a manner as to make him feel he is truly remembered and honored. The least one can do, then, is to begin to make straight the way of the Lord by cleansing the soul of all mortal sin and by making a good Christmas communion. That feast, you know, is a time when great graces are given to the sincere soul. Do not, then, for the sake of your own soul, fail to keep Christmas day as a true Catholic should keep it. -------------- {46} _Fourth Sunday of Advent._ Epistle. 1 _Corinthians iv._ 1-5. Brethren: Let a man so look upon us as the ministers of Christ, and the dispensers of the mysteries of God. Here now it is required among the dispensers, that a man be found faithful. But as to me it is a thing of the least account to be judged by you, or by human judgment: but neither do I judge my own self. For I am not conscious to myself of anything, yet in this am I not justified: but he that judgeth me, is the Lord. Therefore judge not before the time; until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts: and then shall every man have praise from God. Gospel. _St. Luke iii._ 1-6. Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Cæsar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and Philip his brother tetrarch of Iturea and the country of Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilina, under the high-priests Annas and Caiphas: the word of the Lord came to John, the son of Zachary, in the desert. And he came into all the country about the Jordan, preaching the baptism of penance for the remission of sins: as it is written in the book of the words of Isaias the prophet: A voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled: and every mountain and hill shall be brought low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways plain. And all flesh shall see the salvation of God. {47} Sermon X. Christmas Eve. _For he shall save his people from their sins_. --St. Matthew i. 21. To be _saved_, dear brethren, always supposes a previous danger. Thus, we say saved from drowning, saved from a fire, saved from a terrible accident. Also it supposes a person or thing that saves. Now, dear friends, we are met together here to-day, and it is Christmas Eve. The church tells us in the holy Gospel that Jesus Christ came to save his people. Let us think, then, for a few moments what danger it was that he came to save us from, and who he was who came to act the part of Saviour. The danger from which we were to be saved was the danger of sin. Sin is dangerous in the extreme. It is more dangerous than the most terrible disease, more perilous than the cholera or the plague. These things only kill the body; mortal sin kills the soul. If Jesus Christ had not redeemed us sin would have destroyed us. Adam and Eve brought sin into the world. Sin spread with the awful swiftness of an epidemic. It threatened to descend upon mankind and to bury everything beneath the ruins of everlasting death. Then, when poor human nature seemed about to be overwhelmed, Jesus came and saved it, washed us in his precious Blood, and snatched the uplifted sword from the hand of the enemy. Yes, the danger was great, but we were saved from it. But a little while ago we read in the papers of an awful calamity--the burning of the Brooklyn Theatre. {48} We can imagine how frightful was the scene of hundreds of human creatures fighting for life--the all too narrow door before them, the crying multitude around them, the scathing, ruthless flames behind them. What would we think of one who, saved from such a place, should afterwards make light of the danger and care nothing for the one who saved him? O brethren! it was not from the danger of earthly fire, from the peril of blazing rafters, falling beams, and a trampling multitude, that Christ saved you and me. 'Twas from the fire of hell that he snatched us. 'Twas from the danger, the all-surrounding danger, of sin. And what have we done, many of us? We have turned back, let go the hand that held us, and gone back into the appalling peril. Because men do not see a _material_ danger they will not believe there is _any_. Dear friends, there is danger. You that have gone back into the ways of sin, you that are in mortal sin now, at this moment--you are in an awful danger. Save your lives, then; take the hand held out to you or you are lost! Brethren, some of those poor creatures who perished in the Brooklyn fire were so charred, so burnt that they could not be recognized. Take care that you do not become so disfigured by sin that at the last day God will say to you: "I know ye not." Who saved us from the awful peril? It was Jesus Christ, Jesus the Son of God, Jesus the Babe of Bethlehem. In the morning it will be Christmas day. The church will bid you come to the crib. Will you still persist in rejecting the Saviour? You know who he is. You know he is God. You know he is full of love and full of power--full of love for your souls, full of power to rescue you from the danger in which you stood. Come to him then, and no matter how black or how many your sins may be, you will know that "he shall save his people from their sins." {49} Brethren, I doubt not that many of you mourn the loss of some dear ones. Within the last few years some one has gone from the fireside, some sweet voice has been stilled for ever. Perhaps a father or a tender, beloved mother has gone home to rest with God--gone in the peace of Christ to their reward. 'Tis Christmas Eve in heaven to-day, and oh! don't you think they are waiting for you--praying for you that you may be there with them? Don't disappoint them. Don't let them wait in vain. Flee from sin, the danger that threatens to separate you from them for ever. Do not disappoint Jesus and Mary and Joseph. Do not spend this holy time in sin. Don't go back into the danger. Keep Christmas like a Christian. Then, brethren, in the morning, the bright morning of eternity, the Christmas morning of heaven, we shall see His glory. We shall be united to Jesus and our dear ones who have gone before. We shall hear them and the white-winged angels who circle around the throne, singing aloud: "Glory be to Jesus Christ the Babe of Bethlehem, for he hath saved his people from their sins!" Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ---------------------- Sermon XI. Preaching the baptism of penance for the remission of sins, --St. Luke iii. 3. St. John Baptist certainly seems, from what we read about him in the Gospels, to have been quite a stern and uncompromising preacher. He did not come with a coach and four to take people to heaven. {50} He had but one message for every one, high and low, rich and poor; and that message was: "Repent of your sins; do penance for them, and bring forth fruits worthy of penance. Cease to do evil, learn to do good; get rid of your bad habits, and put good ones in their place. If you have wronged any one, make restitution for it; and, moreover, practise charity even to those whom you have not wronged. These things you must do; there is no other way possible in which you can flee from the wrath to come." This was St. John's doctrine, everybody must acknowledge. But some people seem to think that our Lord, when he came, offered salvation to sinners on somewhat easier terms than these. This, however, is a great mistake. There never has been, is not, and never will be any way for a sinner to be saved except by doing penance. Our Saviour did, indeed, by his coming make salvation easier; but how was it that he did so? It was not by offering it on any other terms than these, but by making it easier for men to comply with these terms. He did not free us from the obligation of doing penance, but gave us more abundant grace that we might be better able to do penance. That is plain enough to every one who will stop and think. And yet some Christians seem to imagine that it is enough to be a Catholic, to be quite sure of one's salvation. Practically, at least, they hold the heresy which the devil brought in at the time of the so-called Reformation, and which before that time hardly any one had dared to put in words--that a man may be justified by faith without good works. {51} They say to themselves the very thing which St. John warned the Jews not to say: "We have Abraham for our father." They say to themselves: "We are Catholics; we are children of the holy church; all we have to do is to remain so (and, thank God! we have not the least idea of being anything else), and then to receive the rites of our church when we come to die, and we will be as sure of going to heaven as a child which has just been baptized." But, my friends, this is a fatal delusion. Depend upon it, the devil is glad when he sees men or women with this notion in their heads, for he has got good hopes of having them with him in hell. He knows well what such people do not seem to know: that it is not enough to be a Catholic, but that one must also be a good Catholic, if he is to be saved. He knows as well as St. John that penance is necessary now, as it always has been; but he takes good care not to preach what he knows. And what is penance? Is it a mere confession that we are sinners? No, by no means. If it were, every one would be a penitent who was not a fool, for every one who has common sense must acknowledge that he has sinned. Nor is it a mere acknowledgment that sin is a bad thing, and a wish that we had not committed it, and that God had given us more grace that we might not have done so. No, it is a real and hearty sorrow for it, with a conviction that we might have avoided it, and that the fault was not with God, who gave us plenty of grace to avoid it, but with ourselves, who did not make use of the grace which he gave. And following from this, as a matter of course, is a firm conviction that we can avoid it for the future, and a firm determination to do so. {52} And following from this, also as a matter of course, is a real change in our lives, a real giving up of sin. That is the only certain mark of a true repentance and of a good confession--that a man stops committing mortal sin. The priest may indeed give absolution to one who continues to fall; but it is with the gravest fears that the sentence which he pronounces is not confirmed by Him who alone has power to forgive. I said in the beginning that salvation was easier than before our Lord came, because we have now more grace to help our weakness. But that only makes penance the more necessary. "A man making void the law of Moses," says St. Paul, "died, without any mercy, under two or three witnesses; how much more, do you think, he deserveth worse punishments, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath esteemed the blood of the testament unclean, by which he was sanctified, and hath offered an affront to the Spirit of grace?" Be warned, then, in time; repent indeed, and change your lives. Make not only a confession but a good confession at this holy time, and cease, for the love of God, to offend him any more. ----------------------- Sermon XIL. _Prepare ye the way of the Lord_. --St. Luke iii. 4. Before our Blessed Lord came into public notice his missionary, St. John Baptist, appeared in the wilderness preaching penance, and good works worthy of penance, to the people, who were in the darkness and bondage of sin. He cried out in a loud, thrilling voice; "Prepare ye the way of the Lord." {53} So the church on the last Sunday of Advent, the first before Christmas, cries out to those who expect to meet our Lord on Christmas and worship him on that glorious feast: "Prepare ye the way of the Lord." To the tepid and lukewarm she cries out: "Come away from your darling venial sins; fill up your empty hearts to the brim with the overflowing love and grace of God; be more generous in his worship and service." To the young: "Prepare ye the way of the Lord." Give me your heart while you are young and tender; do not be allured by the empty joys and false pleasures of the world; avoid those dangerous occasions of sin that are about to entice you, and keep your youth innocent and pure, that you may see the evening of your life in joy, and not in bitter remorse. To the old: Forget the past; if it has been bad, ask pardon and do penance; if good, preserve it and live in grace and fervor, so that when you are near the end of your pilgrimage here you may attain to the great destiny for which you have been created. To the sinner--to the one in mortal sin; the one who has not had a happy Christmas for many a year, for the sinner has no chance to have part in the real joy of Christmas; to the sinner who has been exalted with pride and worldly pleasure, who has been in the valley of impurity, and wilful neglect, and cold indifference--oh! to you there is a voice terrible and irresistible: "Prepare ye the way of the Lord." Prepare it by prayer for grace; warm your heart by gratitude and love; fall on your knees at the foot of the cross in the confessional; have your heart purified by the bitter waters of penance, and you will indeed have a happy Christmas. {54} Then the promise: All flesh shall see the salvation of God. Yes, to know and to feel and see the pardon and peace and love of God--to have the consciousness that he is our friend, and that we have no enmity against him--is the way to see on this earth the fruits of salvation. The poor shall see the salvation of God. O ye poor men and women who have nothing in this world but sorrow, tears, and bitter suffering! to you this coming feast of Christmas is a foretaste of the great reward that is prepared for you. God loves you. He spurned the palaces and royal robes of the Cæsars when he came on the earth, and chose a poor Virgin for his mother and a hovel for his birthplace. The poor shepherds were the first to see him, and they will be near to him in his glory. "Blessed are ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven." For He who was rich, for your sakes became poor. The poor shall see the salvation of God; for He who was rich, for their sakes became poor. The rich shall see the salvation of God; for they will be taught humility by looking into the crib at Bethlehem, and learning a lesson that they can learn nowhere else, and that will dazzle them more than their jewels, diamonds, dresses, or palaces. So if we prepare the way of the Lord we shall finally see the salvation of God in eternity, where we shall rejoice evermore in the thought that all our preparation here to please God, by keeping the commandments, suffering, and toiling, will be rewarded by the vision of the Redeemer of all nations who washed their robes and made them white in the Blood of the Lamb. -------------------- {55} _Sunday within the Octave of Christmas_ Epistle. _Galatians iv._ 1-7. Brethren: As long as the heir is a child, he differeth nothing from a servant, though he be lord of all: but is under tutors and governors until the time appointed by the father: even so we, when we were children, were in bondage under the elements of the world. But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent his Son, made of a woman, made under the law: that he might redeem those who were under the law; that we might receive the adoption of sons. And because you are sons, God hath sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying: Abba, Father. Therefore now he is no more a servant, but a son. And if a son, an heir also through God. Gospel. _St. Luke ii._ 33-40. At that time: Joseph, and Mary the mother of Jesus, were wondering at these things, which were spoken concerning him. And Simeon blessed them, and said to Mary his mother: Behold this child is set for the ruin, and for the resurrection of many in Israel, and for a sign which shall be contradicted. And thy own soul a sword shall pierce, that out of many hearts thoughts may be revealed. And there was a prophetess, called Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Aser; she was far advanced in years, and had lived with her husband seven years from her virginity. And she was a widow until fourscore and four years; who departed not from the temple, by fastings and prayers serving night and day. Now she at the same hour coming in, gave praise to the Lord; and spoke of him to all that looked for the redemption of Israel. And after they had performed all things according to the law of the Lord, they returned into Galilee, to their own city, Nazareth. And the child grew, and waxed strong, full of wisdom: and the grace of God was in him. {56} Sermon XIII. _And the Child grew, and waxed strong, full of wisdom: and the grace of God was in him._ --St. Luke ii. 40. Jesus Christ is our model in all things, and in the verse above quoted we see him presented as the model of youth. Your children, brethren, ought to be strong in body, wise in mind, and to have the grace of God in their hearts. Now, who is to form them after the model of Jesus Christ? It is the duty of parents. First, then, you ought to take care of the bodily wants of your children, in order that they may grow and wax strong. How often parents offend against this duty! There are some who let their children eat just what they please, who pamper their appetites, who give them all kinds of unwholesome food. Such children will never be healthy. There are others who spend all their money in drink--who leave their poor little ones at home, moaning and starving with hunger; who, through their imprudence, leave their children without food for a whole day, having squandered their earnings in all sorts of foolish and wicked pleasures. Then, too, there are those who allow their children to sit up till all hours of the night, who let them go off to heated ball-rooms, who dress them either too much or too little--who either coddle them up so that they can hardly stand a whiff of air, or else send them out to shiver with cold. {57} No wonder that our city children are unhealthy; no wonder death sweeps them away as it does. Is it not because parents are neglectful? Look to it, then; see to the diet, the clothing, the habits of your children. Do not overtask their feeble strength by sending them too soon to work. Never permit them to form luxurious appetites. Watch over their daily lives, see that they take proper exercise; then, like the child Jesus, they will "grow and wax strong." Neglect the duty of corporal education, and we shall have a generation of sickly children and adult invalids. And if it be so necessary for parents to watch over the bodies of their children, what shall I say of the duty of watching over their minds and souls? Your children should be full of wisdom, and the grace of God should be in their hearts. Oh! when I think of the neglect of many Catholic parents in this respect I am tempted to take up the Gospel's most awful tone, and cry. Woe to you, careless parents! woe, eternal woe to you guilty fathers and mothers, who are letting your little ones run to destruction! You make your home uncomfortable by your crossness, by your curses, by your slovenly, untidy habits. Your children, from their earliest infancy, take to the street. They hear impurity, blasphemy, and cursing. They hear words and see sights which are not fit to be mentioned here on God's altar. They keep what company they like. They learn infamous and immoral habits that destroy both body and soul. Oh! for God's sake beware, beware! Do you think they will ever be full of wisdom or have the grace of God in their hearts? {58} Again, you are anxious enough that they shall learn to read and write, to keep books and be quick at figures, but are you sure they know their catechism or can tell a priest all they ought to know of Jesus Christ, their Saviour, or how many sacraments and commandments there are? Where are they on Sundays? Where are they when confession day comes around? Oh! these are vital questions, if you want them to be full of grace and wisdom. Some boys and girls of our day, brethren, have lost a great deal of their freshness. They smoke, they chew tobacco, they flirt, they act like little men and women. There is no innocence about them. They are revolting spectacles to men and angels. Wisdom, forsooth! They have none. Grace of God? It is destroyed. Their childhood is more like the childhood of an incarnate devil than of an incarnate God. Look, then, carefully to your children. Look to the little ones; correct them when they are babies. Don't wait till a child is in its teens; then it will be too late. Set them a good example. You know the story of the old crab, who said to her little ones, "Why do you walk sideways?" "Suppose, mother," they said, "_you_ show us how to walk straight." Yes, if you are wicked, foolish, and sinful, your children will be like you. "Like father, like son," says the proverb. Oh! then you parents, be pure as Mary, be industrious, modest, patient like St. Joseph; then your children, like Jesus, will grow and wax strong, full of wisdom and of the grace of God. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ----------------- {59} Sermon XIV. _This Child is set for the fall, and for the resurrection of many in Israel._ --St. Luke ii. 34. These words of to-day's Gospel, my dear brethren, have, perhaps, a strange sound to us at this joyful Christmas season. It seems strange that holy Simeon should have said that the blessed Infant whom he held in his arms, and who had come to save the world, should have been set for the fall of many of even his own chosen people. And yet we know that his coming was actually the occasion of the fall not merely of many but of far the greater part of that chosen people of Israel. However strange Simeon's prophecy may seem, we see that it was a true one. Up to that time the Jewish people were God's true church on earth; now almost all of them are wanderers outside of it, rejecting the true Messias whom their fathers crucified, and either vainly looking for one who will never come or ceasing in despair to look for any Messias at all. Instead of Christ's coming having been the means of salvation for them, it has really been the occasion of their fall from the grace which they had before. But though we know that it has been so, it may still seem strange that it should have been so. One would think that the Saviour, who is our joy, our pride, and our glory, would have been theirs too, and even more theirs than ours, having been born of their own nation, a Jew of the royal line of David. But if we consider the matter a little we shall see that it was natural enough that it should turn out as it did; and we shall see, moreover, that there is a good deal of danger that, as they fell from grace when Christ was presented to them, so we may do the same. {60} For we shall, if we think, find out the reason why they fell, which is the reason why we may fall too. They were looking for a Saviour, indeed, but not for such a Saviour as actually came. They were looking for one who would redeem them from their subjection to the Roman Empire; who would make their nation what it had been in the days gone by; who would make them an independent and powerful people; who would give them the greatness and glory of this world. So when he did not fulfil their expectation, when he came not with earthly splendor but in poverty and suffering, they were scandalized. It was only his miracles which made them hesitate; and when he would work miracles no longer, when he would not save himself from the cruel and ignominious death of the cross, they rejected him with the horrible imprecation, "His Blood be upon us and upon our children." Yes, my brethren, the cross was their scandal, and the cross is likely to be our scandal, too, for we have the same fallen human nature as they. "We preach Christ crucified," says St. Paul, "unto the Jews indeed a stumbling-block, and unto the Gentiles foolishness"; and it is a good deal the same with us Christians now. We feel glad, indeed, when Christmas comes; but I am afraid that if we had been living at the time of the first Christmas we should not have been much more likely to rejoice at the birth of our Lord than his own people were at that time. Christmas now is very pleasant, with its festivity, its amusements, its giving and receiving of presents; but there is not much of the cross in this. The original Christmas, with its cold, its poverty, and its humiliation, was quite a different thing. {61} It is right for us to rejoice at Christmas; but perhaps we should not rejoice if we remembered that our Lord came to bring into the world the cross not only for himself but also for us too. That is the scandal for us now. We can see what the Jews could not, that it was right that he should suffer; but we cannot see that it is right that we should suffer too--that what holy Simeon said to his Blessed Mother is true for each one of us: "Thy own soul a sword shall pierce." So in this way, even now, "this Divine Child," with his cross in his hand for a Christmas present to us, "is set for the fall of many in Israel." We are too apt to shrink away when he urges us to accept it for his sake. Indeed, we should always fall away when the cross is offered to us, had we only our own natural strength to depend upon. It is not in us, by any natural power, to bear the cross of Christ. But he offers with it the grace to bear it. And in this way he is set also for our resurrection. For it is only by the cross, by bearing the cross ourselves, that we can rise from sin, which is the only death which we really have to fear. This Child, then, is set for our fall by our natural weakness, but for our resurrection by his supernatural grace. His will is that it should be for the latter; let his will, then, be done. Let us welcome him, then, at Christmas, but let us welcome his cross too; for it is only by bearing it ourselves that we can come to eternal life. ------------------------- {62} Sermon XV. _Behold, this Child is set ... for a sign which shall be contradicted._ --St. Luke ii. 34. My brethren, can this be possible? It is not only possible but too true. Our Lord Jesus Christ, the sign of the love of God the Father to us, is contradicted, is resisted, by those whom he came to save. And is it only those who are strangers to him that contradict him? No; it is those who know him well and who ought to be his friends--his own people, who call themselves Catholics, who claim to belong to his true church. What does the word "contradict" mean? It means to speak against or in opposition to any one. It may mean, also, to act against any one, or even to reject inwardly what one say's, though not a word of contradiction be spoken. Fervent gratitude would now exclaim: "Surely no Catholic can do any of these to Jesus Christ?" Yet such there are, though perhaps many of them do not realize what they do. Who are they? They are those who speak against and resist the teachers he has sent them; who put themselves always in opposition to the authority of the church, and even to its head, the Vicar of Christ on earth; who believe no more than they are obliged to under pain of ceasing to be Catholic at all; and who never obey except when it suits their own convenience. "Well," you will say, "I am not that kind of a Catholic." I am glad you are not; still, there are many such. But there are many more who do not go quite so far as that, and yet have a good deal of the same spirit. Perhaps you are one of them. {63} Who are these that I speak of? They are those who are always opposing their pastors and confessors, finding fault with and criticising their words and their actions. They reject their counsel. They even make a jest of their opinions. They think them behind the times, and not up to the spirit of the present day. They even sometimes violate the sacred confidence of the confessional, and talk thus lightly even of what has been said to them there. Or they oppose outwardly the plans and efforts of their parish priests. They think that they know more about everything than their pastors. Unwilling to unite with them in their work for our Lord, they are discontented because others are not as rebellious and disobedient as themselves. They do not rest until they succeed in making a party against those whom they should unite to support, which destroys a great deal of the good which they have done, and prevents much which they could otherwise do. In vain do they pretend to be friends of Christ when they thwart and spoil his work. The work of the parish is as much his work as that of any other part of the church. The church makes parishes wherever she sends her priests. If the people in them oppose her she cannot do God's work. Or if they do not resist, they despise their priests, or certainly act as if they did. They do not seem to remember that every priest, unworthy as he is, of course, still represents our Lord. If they respect him, it is as a man, not as a priest; that is, they do not respect the priest at all as such. They use him for their own convenience when their conscience requires them to hear Mass or approach the sacraments; but otherwise they treat him just as a Protestant might do. {64} And by this bad example they lessen the respect of others for him, and weaken the authority and influence for good which he ought to have. This really is resisting and contradicting our Lord, whom he represents. Let all, then, examine themselves, and see if they are not in the habit of speaking, acting, or neglecting their duties in such a way as to oppose and contradict our divine Lord. Be humble as he was on the first Christmas day, and try to help, not to hinder, his agents in all they are obliged to do to carry out his work; for he has said to them: "He that heareth you heareth me; and he that despiseth you despiseth me." ------------------------- {65} _The Epiphany_ Epistle. _Isaias lx._ 1-6. Arise, be enlightened, O Jerusalem: for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. For behold darkness shall cover the earth, and a mist the people: but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall walk in thy light, and kings in the brightness of thy rising. Lift up thy eyes round about, and see: all these are gathered together, they are come to thee: thy sons shall come from afar, and thy daughters shall rise up at thy side. Then shalt thou see and abound, and thy heart shall wonder and be enlarged; when the multitude of the sea shall be converted to thee, the strength of the Gentiles shall come to thee. The multitude of camels shall cover thee, the dromedaries of Madian and Epha: all they from Saba shall come, bringing gold and frankincense: and showing forth praise to the Lord. Gospel. _St. Matthew ii._ 1-12. When Jesus, therefore, was born in Bethlehem of Juda, in the days of King Herod, behold, there came wise men from the East to Jerusalem, saying: Where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the East, and we are come to adore him. And Herod the King hearing this, was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him: and assembling together all the chief priests and Scribes of the people, he enquired of them where Christ should be born. But they said to him, In Bethlehem of Juda; for so it is written by the prophet: "And thou Bethlehem, the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda: for out of thee shall come forth the ruler who shall rule my people Israel." {66} Then Herod, privately calling the wise men, enquired diligently of them the time of the star's appearing to them; and sending them into Bethlehem, said: Go and search diligently after the child, and when you have found him, bring me word again, that I also may come and adore him. And when they had heard the king, they went their way; and behold, the star which they had seen in the East went before them, until it came and stood over where the child was. And seeing the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And going into the house, they found the child with Mary his mother, and falling down, they adored him; and opening their treasures, they offered him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having received an answer in sleep that they should not return to Herod, they went back another way into their own country. --------------------- Sermon XVL. _Rise, and take the Child and his mother, and go into the land of Israel._ --St. Matthew ii. 20. At this season of Christmas and Epiphany, in these days when the church brings us to the manger in which the infant Son of God was laid, it is impossible for any Christian to come to Jesus without coming to Mary also. He cannot see the one without seeing the other; and surely he will not adore the one without honoring the other also. It is plain enough to us all at this time how inseparable Our Lady is from her Divine Son, and how we must go to her if we would gain admission to his presence. But we are apt enough to forget it at other seasons, even at times like the month of May, specially commemorated to her love and service. {67} We are apt to imagine devotion to her as a sort of thing apart by itself, beautiful and reasonable, it is true, but still having no necessary connection with the worship of God. We do not understand that it is impossible for us to love and adore him as he wishes unless we also honor his Blessed Mother--as impossible as it would be to have a true devotion to her and forget him. The two devotions must go hand-in-hand not only now but through all the year. The forgetting of this is one great reason why there is so much sin in the world. One who has a true love for Mary can hardly fall into mortal sin; and that not only because she will specially pray for him and defend him, but also because he will love her Son too much to do so. And even if he should fall into mortal sin he will not stay in it long; not only because she will obtain his conversion, but also because love of God cannot be far away while that of his Blessed Mother remains. This is also true, in its measure, of venial as well as of mortal sin, and of those imperfections which keep people from being saints. You will hear many complaining that they do not make any progress in the spiritual life; that they are always committing the same faults, and even just as often; and that they have no more piety now than they had years ago--perhaps not even so much. Well, of course there may be many reasons for this; but one of them, perhaps, is that they do not cultivate a real, solid devotion to Our Blessed Lady. They say, no doubt, some prayers to her, and they believe fully and firmly everything about her which the church teaches; but they do not realize that they cannot acquire the love of her Divine Son unless they make his Mother theirs also; that they give themselves entirely to her as her loving children, with all their mind and strength, all their heart and soul. {68} What a pity it is to neglect so easy and so safe a way not only of salvation but of perfection! It will lead to everything else, and nothing else will lead anywhere without it. Let us, then, my dear brethren, at the beginning of this new year make a good resolution--that is, to have more devotion to Our Lady than we have ever had before. Let us take, as St. Joseph did, the Child and his Mother, and set out with them from this place of our exile to the land of Israel, the true promised land above. Let us take them both, not only at Christmas but always, through our whole journey here below; not to guard and guide them, as he did--for we have not such a privilege--but that they may guard us, and guide us to the country which is waiting, not for one people only, but for the redeemed of all nations, for all the Israel of God. -------------------- Sermon XVII. _And opening their treasures, they offered him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh._ --St. Matthew ii. 11. To-day, my brethren, is a great day for us. It is, in one way, a greater day than Christmas itself; a day, that is, in which we have more cause for rejoicing than we had even then. For what was it which we celebrated then, and what is it which we are celebrating now? {69} Then it was the birth of our Lord into this world, and it was indeed a thing which we had cause to rejoice over; but to-day it is something even more joyous for us than that. It is not only that he was born into this world, but that he was born for us, for us Gentiles--to save us as well as his own chosen people, the Jews. The three wise men whom that wonderful star led to his crib were not of that people, but Gentiles like ourselves; and the star which appeared to them signified the appearance to them and to us of the true Light which was hereafter to enlighten in a more wonderful way than before not only a single nation, but every man coming into this world. Appearance or manifestation is what the Greek word "epiphany" means. It was natural, then, that they should offer gifts to their newly-born Saviour, for they could not but do so in acknowledgment of the great gift which he had given to them. But let us see what was the meaning of the gifts which they did offer--of these gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They may be, and have been, interpreted in a great many different ways, all of which may well be true. It is commonly said that the wise men offered gold to our Lord because he is the King of heaven and earth; frankincense, because he is Almighty God; and myrrh, because he is also man, and was to suffer death for the sins of the world--myrrh being used to embalm the dead, and hence being a symbol of death. But there is another signification of these gifts which is, perhaps, more practical for us, because it suggests more directly the three gifts which each one of us must offer to him who is our Saviour as well as theirs, if we would partake of the salvation which he came to bring to us. {70} These three gifts are, then, understood by some to represent the three duties of almsgiving, prayer, and fasting, by which we are redeemed from the tyranny of the world, the devil, and the flesh. These last three are the great enemies of our salvation, and they must be overcome if we are to be saved. The love of the world, and of the treasures which it offers us, can only be destroyed by sacrificing those treasures for the sake of God, of his church, and of his poor; the power of the devil, who sets himself up as the god whom we are to serve and obey, can only be resisted by constant prayer, by which we draw near to the true God, and devote ourselves over and over again to his service; and the control of the flesh, with its base and degrading appetites, over our immortal souls can only be shaken off by fasting--that is, by mortification of various kinds, by persistently refusing to our bodies all dangerous and sinful indulgences, and by sometimes depriving them of pleasures which are innocent in themselves. These three duties are practised in their perfection by those whom God calls to the religious life by the three vows of poverty, obedience, and chastity. By the vow of poverty the religious sacrifices at once the goods of this world; by that of obedience he frees himself from the tyranny of the devil, subjecting himself entirely to God, whom his superiors represent; by that of chastity he renounces sensual pleasure. But it is not religious alone who are called on to make these three gifts. The same obligation, in its due measure, rests upon each of you. Almsgiving, prayer, and mortification are duties for all Christians. {71} It is hard to see how any one can be saved who gives no more to God and the poor than what is extorted from him, as it were, by force; who merely says prayers now and then because he is afraid to give up the practice, but who seldom or never really prays; and who indulges without scruple in everything which his flesh desires, intending to stop short of nothing but mortal sin. Let such things, then, my brethren, not be said of us. As we kneel with the wise men this morning before the manger of our infant God, let us make with them these three gifts. Let us offer to him, as they did, with a full and willing heart, our possessions, our bodies, and our souls. This is the time for making presents, and these are the presents which he expects. Be generous, then, with him, and he will be generous with you. "Give to the Most High according to what he hath given to thee." ----------------- {72} _First Sunday after Epiphany._ Epistle. _Romans xii._ 1-5. Brethren: I beseech you, by the mercy of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing to God, your reasonable service. And be not conformed to this world: but be reformed in the newness of your mind, that you may prove what is the good and the acceptable, and the perfect will of God. For I say, through the grace that is given me, to all that are among you, not to be more wise than it behooveth to be wise, but to be wise unto sobriety, and according as God hath divided to every one the measure of faith. For as in one body we have many members, but all the members have not the same office: so we being many are one body in Christ, and each one members one of another in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. Luke ii._ 42-52. When Jesus was twelve years old, they went up to Jerusalem according to the custom of the feast, and after they had fulfilled the days, when they returned, the child Jesus remained in Jerusalem; and his parents knew it not. And thinking that he was in the company, they came a day's journey and sought him among their kinsfolks and acquaintance. And not finding him, they returned into Jerusalem, seeking him. And it came to pass, that after three days they found him in the temple sitting in the midst of the doctors, hearing them and asking them questions. And all that heard him were astonished at his wisdom and his answers. And seeing him, they wondered. And his mother said to him: Son, why hast thou done so to us? behold thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing. {73} And he said to them: How is it that you sought me? did you not know that I must be about the things that are my Father's? And they understood not the word that he spoke unto them. And he went down with them and came to Nazareth: and was subject to them. And his mother kept all these words in her heart. And Jesus increased in wisdom and age, and grace with God and men. ------------------- Sermon XVIII. _And he went down with them, and came to Nazareth, and was subject to them._ --St. Luke ii. 51. Such, my dear friends, is the brief record of our Lord's boyhood and youth. When we next hear of him he has begun his mission to the world. But brief as the record is, it teaches a great lesson--the lesson of obedience. First it proclaims this lesson to children and the young generally. They ought to be subject to their parents. Is this the case? Often, we know, it is not. There are proud, rebellious, and disobedient children in many families--girls and boys who will not do what they are told; who go to places forbidden by their parents; who speak of their parents as the "old man" and the "old woman"; children who do their best to make father and mother subject to _them;_ who think they know better than their parents, and who despise those set over them by God. So glaring has this disrespect for parents become that a witty man has said that soon the sign and title of a firm will be "Jones and Father" instead of "Jones and Son." Disobedient, proud children, I point you this morning to the little home of Nazareth. Look in, conceited, self-sufficient boys and girls. {74} What do you see? God obedient to his creatures; Jesus with Joseph and his Mother; Jesus, "very God of very God," subject to them. There is your example. Woe to you if you do not follow it! Disobedience made hell for the devil and his angels, and disobedience, if persisted in, will make hell for you. Hell is the headquarters of disobedience, and will be the home of the disobedient and rebellious for evermore. So, then, you that are young, cut down your pride, bend the neck a little easier to the yoke. Be more like Jesus, who went home with his parents, stayed home with them, and was _subject_ to them. But not only to children and the young does this lesson come home; it strikes all of us. In one sense we are all children--children of holy church whose chief pastor is called the Holy Father, and whose priests are called by all "fathers." Now, then, you "children of an older growth," how have you shown your obedience? Are you very particular to keep the laws of _mother_ church? How about fasting and abstinence? What of hearing Mass on a Sunday and of abstaining from servile work? Was your last Easter duty made? Again, how about the advice of your _father_ confessor? Have you followed it? How do you keep the minor laws and regulations which the pastor of each particular church sees fit to make for the better ordering of his services, etc., etc.? When the priest has to rebuke you, to reprove you, how do you take it? O my friends! these are the days of disobedience and false independence, and therefore these questions are of vital importance. You must _obey_, if you want to be good Catholics. You must turn a deaf ear to the suggestions of worldly pride; you must be submissive to holy mother church, to our Holy Father the Pope, to the pastors and fathers set over you in God's providence. {75} Obedience! obedience!--that must be your watchword. You must not be scaling the mountains of pride hand-in-hand with infidel and heretic, and the devil's staff for a support. You must obey the church and follow _her_ teachings, and submit to lawful authority. As St. Paul says: "Be not wise in your own conceits. For I say, by the grace that is given me, to all that are among you, not to be more wise than it behooveth to be wise, but be wise unto sobriety. Let every soul be subject to higher powers: they that resist purchase to themselves damnation." Finally, brethren, show yourselves law-loving, obedient citizens of the country in which you live. Let the Catholic always be found on the side of order and regularity. In a word, show to your pastors and superiors, show even to our worst enemies, that you have learnt well the lesson contained in these few words: "He went down with them, and came to Nazareth, and was subject to them." Rev. Algernon A. Brown. --------------------- Sermon XIX. _Behold the Lamb of God: behold, he who taketh away the sins of the world._ --St. John i. 29. There are no words of the Gospel, my dear brethren, more frequently used in the church of God than these. You often hear them from the lips of the priest, but perhaps you do not remember when. They are more familiar to you in Latin than in English. {76} The moment when they are said is that when the greatest of all gifts is about to be given to you. It is just before the giving of Holy Communion. The priest, turning to you with the ciborium in his hand, raises one of the sacred particles from it, and shows it to you, saying, _Ecce Agnus Dei_--which means, "Behold the Lamb of God"--_ecce qui tollis peccata mundi_, "Behold, he who taketh away the sins of the world." The church has put the words in the mouth of the priest at this time, when he distributes Holy Communion, because he is then showing Christ to the faithful. And she puts them in the Gospel of today, because on this day, the octave of the great feast which we celebrated last Sunday, she commemorates what we may call our Lord's second Epiphany after his hidden life of thirty years, when St. John the Baptist, his great precursor, taking the place of the star which showed him to the wise men, showed him to those who were to become his disciples, and who were to accompany him in that ministry of three years upon which he was about to enter. As St. John took the place of the star, so the Catholic priest now takes the place of St. John. He has now to show Christ to the world, and especially to the faithful. And St. John, in his humility and self-concealment, has set an example to him which he should try to copy, and which a good priest does try to copy. That is, he tries to show our Lord to the people and to keep himself in the background; he tries to bring the faithful to his Master and theirs, not to himself. He desires that they should see in all that he does not his own power or gifts, but the grace of God, by which alone he can do them any good; that they should not be drawn to him, but to the Lamb of God, who alone can take away their sins. {77} And what the good priest does you also, my brethren, should do. You should not think of the priest, but of Him whom the priest represents, and in whose power he acts. And especially should you take care to do this in those sacramental acts which the priest does more particularly in the name of God; that is, when he celebrates Holy Mass, baptizes, hears confessions, or gives Holy Communion. For, in truth, it is not he who does these things, but our Lord Jesus Christ. He, the Lamb of God, is the true priest. He who instituted the sacraments also is the one who confers them. Remember this when you receive them. When you go to the altar-rail for Holy Communion, and when the priest holds up the sacred Host before you, saying, _Ecce Agnus Dei, ecce qui tollit peccata mundi_, think not of the priest, of his virtues or his faults, but of the immaculate Lamb of God, who is coming to you, a poor sinner. And when the priest is baptizing think not of him, but of the Holy One who, by his own baptism in the Jordan, gave water the power to wash away sin. Look at him standing by the side of the priest with infinite love and compassion, and purifying the soul which he came from heaven to save. When you bow your head to receive absolution in the Sacrament of Penance think not of the minister of the sacrament before whom you kneel, and who is, at the best, but a sinful man, but of Him against whom you have sinned, and who is now about to forgive you once more. Think only of that loving Saviour who is both your God and your Judge--your judge now not in justice but in mercy. {78} And, above all, at holy Mass remember who it is that is saying Mass; who it is that is there at that altar, offering himself in sacrifice for you. Do not be criticising the priest, and thinking whether he is devout or not; his dispositions do not concern you much more than those of your neighbor who is kneeling by your side. Say to yourself, as you look at the altar, _Ecce Agnus Dei ecce qui tollit peccata mundi._ Behold in the midst of that throne the Lamb standing as it were slain, and fall down with the angels in adoration before him. Yes, my brethren, _Christus apparuit nobis: venite, adoremus_--"Christ has appeared to us; come, let us worship him." Such are the words of the church in the Divine Office at this time. Let us, them, seek him, find him, and adore him in this holy Catholic Church, and in all that is done in it by his power and in his name. -------------------- {79} _Second Sunday after Epiphany_ Feast Of The Holy Name Of Jesus. Epistle. _Romans xii._ 6-16. Having gifts different, according to the grace that is given us, whether prophecy, according to the proportion of faith, or ministry in ministering; or he that teacheth, in teaching: he that exhorter in exhorting; he that giveth with simplicity; he that ruleth with solicitude; he that showeth mercy with cheerfulness. Love without dissimulation. Hating that which is evil, adhering to that which is good; loving one another with brotherly love; in honor preventing one another; in solicitude not slothful; in spirit fervent; serving the Lord: rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; instant in prayer; communicating to the necessities of the saints; pursuing hospitality. Bless them that persecute you; bless and curse not. Rejoice with them that rejoice, weep with them that weep; being of one mind one to another; not high-minded but condescending to the humble. Epistle of the Feast. _Acts iv. 8-12_. Then Peter, filled with the Holy Ghost, said to them: Ye rulers of the people and ancients, hear: If we this day are examined concerning the good deed done to the infirm man, by what means he hath been made whole; be it known to you all, and to all the people of Israel, that in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God hath raised from the dead, even by him, doth this man stand here before you whole. This is the stone which was rejected by you builders; which is become the head of the corner; nor is there salvation in any other. For there is no other name under heaven given to men, whereby we must be saved. {80} Gospel. _St. John ii._ 1-11. At that time: There was a marriage in Cana of Galilee: and the mother of Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited, and his disciples, to the marriage. And the wine failing, the mother of Jesus saith to him: They have no wine. And Jesus saith to her: Woman, what is that to me and to thee? my hour is not yet come. His mother said to the waiters: Whatsoever he shall say to you, do ye. Now, there were set there six water-pots of stone, according to the manner of the purifying of the Jews, containing two or three measures apiece. Jesus saith to them: Fill the waterpots with water. And they filled them up to the brim. And Jesus saith to them: Draw out now and carry to the chief steward of the feast. And they carried it. And when the chief steward had tasted the water made wine, and knew not whence it was, but the waiters knew who had drawn the water, the chief steward calleth the bridegroom, and saith to him: Every man at first setteth forth good wine, and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine until now. This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and he manifested his glory, and his disciples believed in him. Gospel of the Feast. _St. Luke ii._ 21. At that time: After eight days were accomplished that the child should be circumcised, his name was called Jesus, which was called by the Angel, before he was conceived in the womb. ------------------- Sermon XX. _His name was called Jesus._ --St. Luke ii. 21. {81} To-day, dear friends, we keep the Feast of the Holy Name. Our dear Lord is known to us by many names--he is called the Word, the Christ, the Son of God, the Lamb of God, the Prince of Peace, and the like--but to-day we are met together to honor his real name; the name by which he was called when on this earth; the name which belonged to him just as our names belong to us; the name by which we are to be saved--the holy name of Jesus! Brethren, this name is a holy name, because it is the name of a God made man. It is a precious name: Jesus shed his Blood for us for the first time as he received it. It is a great and noble name, for it belongs to the mightiest Warrior the world ever saw--to Him who fought with sin and death, and conquered in the fight. It is a terrible name, for when we invoke it hell trembles, earth fears, and even heaven bows the knee. Oh! then, dear brethren, if this name is holy--if precious, if great and noble, if terrible--how much it ought to be revered and respected. We are told by our dear patron, St. Paul, that our Lord "humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. For which cause God also hath exalted him, and hath given him a name which is above all names: that in the name of Jesus every knee should bow of those that are in heaven, on earth, and under the earth." And yet, in spite of all this, although it is so plain that this name is holy, precious, mighty, and terrible, although it is clear that when it is uttered the faithful on earth, the white-winged angels in heaven, ay, and even the lost spirits in hell bow to do homage to it, nevertheless there is a creature who will not worship; there is a created being worse than the very demons; there is found one who will not reverence that name, holy and good and true--and that creature is the _blasphemer_. {82} Yes, brethren, in our streets, in our factories, in our very homes that holy name is taken in vain. Jesus--that sweet name is mixed up with everything that is foul and disrespectful. Jesus' name, the name of our King, our Saviour, and our Judge, is used as an oath; and not only by men coarse and hardened, but by boys and girls, by women, and, unheard of impiety! even by little children. Passing through the streets the other day, I heard a volley of curses in which the holy Name was mingled, and the curser was a boy who could not, I am sure, have been more than eight or nine years of age; and, alas! it is not the first time that I have heard such things. O brethren! I beseech you, by the wounds and cross of Jesus Christ, look to this great sin. When I hear these little baby blasphemers, who scarce, perhaps, know what they say, I know they have learned these oaths from the father, the elder brothers, and perhaps even from the mother, and I tremble to think how deep the evil has sunk into the hearts of men. Oh! then let us never again misuse the holy Name; let us cast out cursing and swearing from our midst, lest it drive us and our children into hell. It belongs to us to be devout to the holy name of Jesus, for we are taught by holy church to ask for every blessing through it. Are we tempted? Let us call upon it, and He who bears it will come to our aid. Are we in sorrow? Let us whisper to ourselves, Jesus! Jesus! and he who knelt in the dark garden and sweat blood for us, he who faced the horrors of death, forsaken and heart-broken, will send us comfort and heal our wounds. Do our sins terrify us? Let us look up to the Cross of Calvary. {83} There on the topmost beam is written the sweet name of Jesus; there beneath hangs the _Saviour_ and the Comforter. Do we need strength for the battle of life, and courage in the struggle against the world, the flesh, and the devil? Jesus! Jesus! the Mighty One, the Conqueror, the Lion of Juda, he who is called "Faithful and true, and with justice doth he judge and fight"--he will arm us for the battle and nerve our heart for the combat. Oh! let us reverence the dear, holy name of our sweet Saviour while we live; and when at last our death-cold lips can part no more to utter it, may the great God give us each a friend to whisper it in our ears, so that Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! may be the last name that we shall hear on earth, and the first which our enraptured spirits will hear in heaven. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------- Sermon XXI. _His name was called Jesus._ --St. Luke ii. 21, To-day we celebrate the Feast of the most Holy Name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. The church sets apart a special Sunday for the celebration of this feast, to bring before our minds the sacredness of this name--its preciousness, and the reverence due to it. This name is the name of the God-Man who came into the world to save us from hell. It is the greatest of all names, because it is the name of the greatest of all beings. It was given to our Lord by the archangel when he announced to the Blessed Virgin that she was to be the mother of God. {84} An angel first pronounced it; the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph were the first to call the new-born Babe of Bethlehem by that name; and all holy men and women, from the time of the adoration of the poor shepherds and wise men down to this hour, have had the greatest veneration for that name. The angel St. Gabriel said to the Blessed Virgin: "He shall be called Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins." You see, then, how precious this name is: it is the name by which we are to be freed from our sins delivered from hell, and admitted among the blessed, the redeemed of all nations. It is the name by which we are the receivers of the supernatural graces of all the holy sacraments. And St. Paul says: God gave to his only-begotten Son "a name that is above every name, that at the name of _Jesus_ every knee should bow of those that are in heaven, on earth, and in hell, and that every tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of God the Father." It is the name not only of the Infant of Bethlehem, but it is the name of that One whom you see in the Stations and nailed to the cross, bleeding, and dying, and dead for you. And yet how our blood runs cold, how we tremble with horror, when we see how little reverence is shown for this name! You need not go far or stay out very long before you hear that name used most irreverently by the child who has hardly learned his prayers, as well as by thieves, drunkards, and murderers, and the lowest rabble that tread the streets of this city; not only by bad men and women, but by people who profess to be respectable Catholics. {85} How often we are made to wonder why Almighty God does not send a thunderbolt and strike dead the blasphemer, or cause the earth to open under those who so treat this holy name, and swallow them up quickly in punishment for their crime! A man who steals, or gets drunk, or gives way to lust sees a sensual temporary good in these sins; but what good, what use is there in blasphemy, in cursing, in swearing? None. It is a direct blow at Almighty God himself. If a man were to insult your mother your vengeance would be roused, and you would think no punishment too great for the offender. Shall God not be jealous of his name? Shall he not punish? Yes, he will. He says: "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who taketh his name in vain." If, then, you have not controlled your gift of speech, which was given you to edify your neighbor, to speak and sing the praises of God, but have given way to a habit of using God's holy name and that of his Son in vain, ask him to give you the grace to overcome the habit. If you hear people on the street or in company blaspheming, cursing, or swearing, lift up your heart to God and make reparation for the injury by saying the prayer, "Blessed be the name of the Lord." Never give scandal to others, and especially the little ones around your family hearth, by blaspheming, or even by carelessly using the name of God or his saints without due reverence. Many men and women have grown up with this old habit clinging to them--a habit that they contracted at home, and that they learned when young from their father and mother. Cursing and swearing are the language of hell. Blessing, prayer, and praise are the language of heaven. {86} Do all in your power to learn the language of the saints--that is, the language of love and reverence for the holy name of Jesus. For "his name is holy and terrible." Repeat the prayer which is sung and said in the holy Mass on this feast: "O God, who hast made thy only-begotten Son to be the Saviour of mankind, and hast commanded that he should be called Jesus, mercifully grant that we may so venerate his holy name on earth that we may be favored with beholding his face for ever in heaven." -------------------- Sermon XXII. _There was a marriage in Cana, of Galilee; and the Mother of Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited, and his disciples, to the marriage._ --St. John ii. 1, 2. As we read the story of this marriage, my dear brethren, it must certainly occur to all of us how singularly favored it was, above all that have ever been celebrated since the beginning of the world, in being honored with the presence of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, of his Blessed Mother, and of his apostles, and in the fact that it witnessed the first of the miracles which he performed in his three years' ministry--the change of water into wine. But when we come to look at the matter more closely we shall see that, great as was the honor which this marriage received, every Christian marriage has the same. For every Christian marriage is honored really and truly, though not visibly, with the presence of our Lord, his Blessed Mother, and the apostles; and at every Christian marriage a miracle of grace is performed of which we may well believe the change of water into wine to have been only a shadow or type. {87} For what is marriage now in the church of Christ? It is one of the sacraments. And what does that mean? It means that whenever a marriage is contracted by those who are baptized there is a grace given with it by our Lord's infallible promise. This grace, moreover, is one which, like those given in the sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation, and Holy Orders, is to remain permanently in the soul, and to be a source or fountain from which new graces are continually to flow. So I am right in saying that our Lord is present at a Christian marriage; for it is only from him that this grace can come. And I am right in saying that Our Lady is present at it; because this grace, while it comes from him, comes through her. For she is the channel through which his grace comes to us; which is shown in this marriage at Cana, of which the Gospel tells us, by his working the miracle of the change of the water into wine at her intercession. And, lastly, I am right in saying the apostles are present at a Christian marriage; for such a marriage can only lawfully be celebrated in the presence of the priest, who represents them. I said, furthermore, that at every Christian marriage a miracle is worked which was represented by our Lord's miracle at Cana. This miracle is the giving of this wonderful sacramental grace; and it is well represented by the conversion of water into wine. It is a miracle--that is to say, an extraordinary and supernatural work of God--because it is not naturally connected with marriage itself. {88} Marriage, in itself, is nothing but a contract or agreement between two parties, having no special blessing or grace, except that which comes from its honorable nature and the good dispositions of the parties themselves. Such is marriage among the unbaptized. But among Christians it is, as I have said, elevated to the dignity of a great sacrament--the contract remaining, but the sacrament being added to it; and it cannot exist among Christians without both. Now, I think you will agree with me that this is well represented by the change of water into wine, in which water, indeed, remains, but is blended with the spirit in such a way that neither can be taken away without destroying the very substance of the wine. Such, then, my brethren, is the dignity of Christian marriage, represented to us in this marriage at Cana, in Galilee. But is it honored among Christians according to its dignity? How many are there who reverence this sacrament as they should? It is one of the sacraments of the living, as they are called; that is, one of those which require the soul, when receiving it, to be in the state of grace. The Catholic who comes to it in the state of mortal sin commits a horrible sacrilege as surely as he would if he should go to the altar-rail and receive Holy Communion without repentance for his sins. Do not forget this. Do not dare to come to receive the sacrament of matrimony without preparing your soul by a good confession; not only on account of the dreadful sacrilege of which you will be guilty in receiving it unprepared, but also for fear of losing the grace which it is meant to give you throughout life, and which grace may never return; for, like that offered to the soul in Holy Communion, if once despised and rejected, it may be lost for ever. {89} And, for the sake of Him who instituted this great sacrament, do not make it, as too many do, an occasion of mortal sin by making it a privileged time for drunkenness and immodesty. A wedding ought to be a time of joy, but for a joy of purity and sobriety. If you make it a time for opening the door to sin for yourselves and for others, tremble lest you bring down on yourselves for the rest of your lives the curse of God instead of his blessing. Invite, then, like the couple at Cana, our Lord to be present at your marriage, and behave as you would if you were to see him there. So shall you receive his benediction, both for time and eternity. ------------------------- {90} _Third Sunday after Epiphany_. Epistle. _Romans xii._ 16-21. Brethren: Be not wise in your own conceits. Render to no man evil for evil. Provide things good not only in the sight of God, but also in the sight of all men. If it be possible, as much as is in you, have peace with all men. Revenge not yourselves, my dearly beloved; but give place to wrath, for it is written: "Revenge is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." But if thy enemy be hungry, give him to eat; if he thirst, give him drink; for doing this thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head. Be not overcome by evil, but overcome evil by good. Gospel. _St. Matthew viii._ 1-13. At that time: When Jesus was come down from the mountain, great multitudes followed him; and behold a leper coming, adored him, saying: Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. And Jesus, stretching forth his hand, touched him, saying: I will; be thou made clean. And immediately his leprosy was cleansed. And Jesus said to him: See thou tell no man; but go show thyself to the priest, and offer the gift which Moses commanded for a testimony to them. And when he had entered into Capharnaum, there came to him a centurion, beseeching him and saying: Lord, my servant lieth at home sick of the palsy, and is grievously tormented. And Jesus said to him: I will come and heal him. And the centurion, making answer, said: Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldst enter under my roof; but only say the word, and my servant shall be healed. For I also am a man under authority, having soldiers under me; and I say to this man, Go, and he goeth, and to another, Come, and he cometh, and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it. {91} And Jesus, hearing this, wondered, and said to those that followed him: Amen I say to you, I have not found so great faith in Israel. And I say unto you that many shall come from the east and the west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven; but the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into exterior darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. And Jesus said to the centurion: Go, and as thou hast believed, so be it done to thee. And the servant was healed at the same hour. ------------------- Sermon XXIII. _Only say the word, and my servant shall be healed._ --St. Matthew viii. 8. The centurion in to-day's Gospel, dear friends, is certainly a shining example to us of many virtues, Particularly is he an example to those among us who are rich and well off, or who have any servants or others employed under our authority. When any one is taken sick, what is the first cry? Go for the priest. Run for the doctor. And instantly a messenger is sought out. Now, this man's servant was sick. What did he do? Centurion, and high in station as he was, he went _himself_ for One who was both doctor and priest. His servant, doubtless, had served him faithfully, had been obedient and trustworthy; and now that this servant is sick, remembering the sublime virtue of charity, the master runs off to our Lord and begs of him to speak the word that would heal the servant. Now, many of you, dear brethren, have in your houses hired help, and the poor are around you who serve you in many useful ways; who do work which, did they not exist, would have to be left undone. {92} How do you treat those fellow-Christians? Ah! I am afraid, often in a very different spirit to that displayed by the centurion. They are sick. You grumble at the inconvenience to which you are put, but what do you do to help them? Do you get the doctor? Do you offer them such nourishment as a sick person needs? Do you visit your servant's sick-bed, or the beds of the poor, to whom we are all indebted for so much service? I wish it were always so, but it is not. Often a servant is made to work when bed would be a more fitting place to be in than the kitchen. Often the poor suffer dreadfully because those whom they serve in health will not help them in sickness. Oh! then let us all follow the example of the good centurion, and if our servants in our house, or our servants out of the house, are sick, let us, moved by a divine charity, hasten at once to their relief. And then in spiritual things how do we act? Catholic heads of families, employers, masters and mistresses, keepers of stores and workshops, how do you look after those that work for you? Do you see that they go to Mass? Do you give them time to get to confession? Do you look after the moral conduct of those you employ? When they are sick and suffering are you solicitous that they should have the comfort and help which the holy sacraments afford? Are you sensible of the responsibility which lies upon you to see that the priest is sent for, especially when they are in danger of death? Oh! I am much afraid that many are very neglectful in this respect. {93} So long as their work is done they care very little for those they employ. Catholic employers often don't bestow a thought upon these things. But don't deceive yourselves: God will require all these souls at your hands. No Catholic man or woman ought to keep in their houses a servant who is negligent of his or her religious duties. You should give your help and your employees plenty of time to go to Mass and confession; and, more than that, it is your duty to _see_ that they go. You should not employ by the side of innocent young men and women all sorts of roughs and blackguards. By so doing you put immortal souls in peril. You should remember that you are head of the family, and that the help and the employees are part of that family, and therefore you are bound in conscience to care for them. Imitate, then, the centurion. Love those you employ. Have a great charity for them. Cherish them, tend them in all their wants. Correct their faults, reward their fidelity; and by so doing you will advance Christ's kingdom on earth and people his kingdom in heaven. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. -------------------------------- Sermon XXIV. _If it be possible, as much as is in you, have peace with all men; revenge not yourselves, my dearly beloved._ --Romans xii. 18-19. There are a good many people who seem to find it very difficult to have peace with all men, or at any rate with all women; for, strange to say, it is, for some reason or other, what is known as the gentler sex that gives and has the most trouble in this respect. {94} Of course it is all the fault of some other party that they cannot live in peace; not their own at all. They themselves are perfectly innocent--lambs, in fact, among wolves. Other people are always persecuting and tormenting them, or at any rate belying them; this last is one of the favorite complaints of these poor, harmless, and much-abused creatures. They try to have peace as far as possible, but other people will not let them. And of course they never revenge themselves on their cruel enemies. Oh! no. They never injure or belie them; they would not do such a thing for the world. They may, indeed, meekly complain of their troubles to the few friends they have got left; they tell how wicked these people are who give them so much annoyance. They try to lower other people's esteem of them; but, of course, that is not meant for injury--that is only that others may be duly warned of such dangerous characters. In their zeal they may draw on their imagination a little; but of course that is not belying. They, perhaps on some rare occasions will try to take it out of their persecutors in one way or another; but then that is not revenge--that is only standing up for their rights. They would like to have peace, and so they try to have it by making reconciliation as hard as possible. It is plain what good Christians they are from their enjoyment of the words which follow those which I have quoted from the Epistle of to-day. These words are: "Revenge is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord."' These are, indeed, a great consolation to them. {95} "Yes," they say to themselves, "I leave them to God. I cannot revenge myself on my enemies as I would like; I don't dare to, or my conscience won't let me; but I hope God will punish them as they deserve. Revenge belongs to him, I know, and I am glad to think that in his own good time he will lay it on to them well. I shall do all my duty if I wish patiently for the time when he will begin to do it; and meanwhile I will console myself by praying that he may convert them and make every one of them as good a Christian as I am." The delusion under which these good Christians are laboring would be amusing, if it were not so dangerous. The danger is that the revenge of God, about which they like to think, is hanging as much over their own heads as over those of the ones with whom they are at variance. They are not really trying to have peace; their own revenge is what they want, though they are willing that Almighty God should be the instrument of it. They do not care either to preserve peace or to regain it in the only way in which it can be preserved or regained--that is, by charity and humility. Their charity is all for themselves. They may tread on other people's corns, but nobody else must tread on theirs. Other people must be humble, and, if they give offence, even carelessly, must make an abject apology; but they themselves are too good to be obliged to do that. Perhaps, however, my friends, some of you really do want to live in peace with all. If so, you can do it by following a very simple rule. It is this: Be careful what you say or do to others; they are sensitive as well as yourself--perhaps more so. You must not expect other people to be saints, even if you are one yourself. {96} Do not flatter what is bad in them, but acknowledge what is good; stroke them the right way. If they really do you an injury see if you have not provoked it; examine your own actions. If you are sure you have not, put it down to ignorance or misapprehension; try to find out what the matter is, and set it right by an explanation, if you can. But if you have committed a fault do not be too proud to acknowledge it. If you cannot procure a reconciliation speak well of the other party, and believe him or her to be, on the whole, better than yourself. For one who has true humility this will not be very hard to do. This is the real meaning of the counsel of St. Paul; if you follow it you will, indeed, live in peace as far as it is possible in this world. ------------------------ {97} _Fourth Sunday after Epiphany_. Epistle. _Romans xiii._ 8-10. Brethren: Owe no man anything, but that you love one another. For he that loveth his neighbor, hath fulfilled the law. For "Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not bear false witness. Thou shalt not covet." And if there be any other commandment, it is comprised in this word: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." The love of the neighbor worketh no evil. Love, therefore, is the fulfilling of the law. Gospel. _St. Matthew viii._ 23-27. At that time: When Jesus entered into the ship, his disciples followed him; and behold a great tempest arose in the sea, so that the ship was covered with waves, but he was asleep. And his disciples came to him, and waked him, saying: Lord, save us, we perish. And Jesus saith to them: Why are you fearful, ye of little faith? Then rising up he commanded the winds and the sea, and there came a great calm. But the men wondered, saying: Who is this, for even the winds and the sea obey him? ---------------- Sermon XXV. _And Jesus saith to them: Why are you fearful, ye of little faith?_ --St. Matt. viii. 26. {98} Some people are always worrying. It would seem that they must enjoy it, for they always find something to worry about. If one good matter for worrying is settled they will be sure to rake up another to take its place. Some of them worry about temporal matters, some about spiritual; but whatever their taste may be in this respect, they are so fond of the amusement that, if they cannot get their favorite matter to worry about, they will take something else rather than not have any at all. You would think that this taste for worrying would be a very uncommon one; but, strange to say, it is not so. In fact, the number of worriers is almost as great as the number of people in the world, and they are worrying about every conceivable thing, though generally only about one thing at a time; it may be about their sins or about somebody else's sins--their children's, for instance--or it may be, and is more likely to be, about some temporal matter, such as their health or the state of their worldly affairs. Now, what do I mean by worrying? I do not mean thinking seriously about things either spiritual or temporal--for a great many, though not all, of the things people worry about are worthy of serious consideration, whereas nothing is worth a moment's worry--but I do mean thinking about them in a way that can do no good, and that only serves to turn the mind in on itself and away from God. Here, for instance, is a case of worrying, to which I have just alluded: A good father and mother have children who are growing up, as so many children are growing up, especially in this city, in neglect of their duties and are acquiring various bad habits. Of course this is very painful to their parents, and there is very good reason that it should be. They would be unnatural or wicked parents if it were not so. {99} They ought to be distressed about it; and I did not say that people should never be distressed, but only that they should not worry. But these parents probably do worry. They occupy their minds with all sorts of useless questions and imaginations. They say: "What have I done that these children of mine are so bad?" And perhaps, though they ask this question, they never really stop to examine themselves and find out if they have neglected their own duty in any way, so as to make an act of contrition for it, and make good resolutions, if it be not too late, for the future. What they mean rather by it is: "How can God allow this when I have done my duty?" And then they say: "Suppose these children get worse and disgrace my name, and even, lose their souls--what shall I do then?" Or perhaps they say: "What shall I do now?" But that does not really mean anything, for either they do not set their wits to work to find out what they can do, or they have concluded with good reason that they cannot do anything except pray; and that they do not do, for their time of prayer is taken up with this same useless worrying. Now, what does all this come from? It comes from a distrust in God's love and providence. It comes from a feeling like what the apostles had, as we read in to-day's Gospel, as if He who ought to take care of them were asleep; but they ought to have known, as their own psalms could have taught them, that "He shall neither slumber nor sleep that keepeth Israel." Even though they knew him not to be God, they should have known that God, who had sent him into the world, and on whom their faith in him rested, would not allow them to come to any harm; and they should have been willing, when they had done their own duty, to trust in his providence for the rest. {100} They might, indeed, well have waked him to get his help and advice as to what to do; but he, who read their hearts, knew that their anxiety had its source, not in prudence, but in distrust, and so he deservedly rebuked them, saying: "Why are you fearful, O ye of little faith?" That is the reason why we, like the apostles, are worrying. It is because we have little faith. We distrust God's providence and mercy, and spend our time in this distrust and complaining, instead of quietly finding out and doing our own duty, and then simply and confidently leaving the result to him. But we have less excuse for it than they, for we know more of him than they did then. Let us, then, be ashamed of our want of faith, and try to do better in this respect for the future. ---------------------- Sermon XXVI. _And behold, a great tempest arose in the sea._ --St. Matthew viii. 24. Almost all of us, my dear brethren, have at some time of life been in a position like that of the apostles in their little boat on the Sea of Galilee. We have been out at sea in a storm, with the waves beating against our frail craft and threatening to swamp it every moment. So we do not need to draw on our imagination to realize what their feelings must have been. {101} Perhaps you may think I am exaggerating when I say this; most of you, I suppose, cannot remember ever having been in a storm at sea. But it is quite true, nevertheless. Only the sea and the storm were far more dangerous ones than those to which the apostles were exposed that night. For the sea over which you were, and still are, sailing is the sea of this mortal life; and the storm was the storm of temptation; and the danger was that of death, not to the body, but to the soul. But perhaps you do not remember ever having met with any very violent storm, even of this kind. Well, it may be that God has singularly favored you, and given you a very quiet and smooth sea to sail over so far. If so, you are an exception to the common rule. It may be, however, that you escaped the storm in another way; that is, by going to the bottom at once. You know the most furious tempests do not reach very far below the surface of the ocean, so that one can always escape them by sinking. So you, perhaps, have escaped temptation by yielding to it at once; as soon as you were tempted to commit mortal sin you committed it, and sank into its horrible and fathomless abyss, continually deeper and deeper, till you were brought up again to the light and air of God's pardon and peace by some mission which he sent you, or by some other extraordinary grace from him. But that was not what you were made for, any more than a ship is made to be continually sinking and being pulled up to the surface again. Ships are made to sail, not to sink. Their builders expect that they will battle with the elements, not be overcome by them; nay, more, they expect that the very winds which seem to threaten their safety shall be the means of sending them to the port which they are intended to reach. {102} And what the builder expects of his ship is what God, who has made us, expects of us; especially of us Christians, with whom he has taken such great pains. He expects, and he has a right to expect, that we shall stay on the surface--that is, that we shall keep in the state of grace; that we shall battle with the winds and waves--that is, that we shall resist temptation; and, furthermore, he expects that the winds, even if they be ahead, shall help us on our course--that is, that they shall be the means, and even the principal means, of bringing us into the safe harbor of our eternal home. Let us not, then, be surprised, nay, let us even rejoice, if we fall into temptation, so long as we do not seek it. "My brethren," says St. James, "count it all joy, when you shall fall into divers temptations." And why? First, because the fact that you are harassed by temptations is a sign that you have not given way to them. It shows that you are on the surface, that you have not foundered yet when you feel the winds and the waves. And, secondly, because it is a sign that our Lord puts confidence in you. The builder of a ship, if he could do it, would proportion the wind to the size and strength of his vessel; and that is what our Maker actually does. He has let his saints have temptations compared with which yours are as nothing at all. Such as he allows you to have are meant for your salvation and perfection; the more he thinks you worthy of, the better. {103} But do not seek them. A prudent captain keeps out of the track of storms. Be content with those which you cannot avoid, for those are the only ones which God means you to have. When you cannot avoid them meet them courageously. Do not get frightened, as the apostles did, for God is with you as he was with them, though he may seem to be asleep. He has not forgotten you, and with his help you will conquer them, every one. But you must ask him to do so. You must go to him as the apostles did, saying: "Lord, save us, we perish." He did not blame them for that, but for their terror and want of trust in his providence. You must work when you are in the storm of temptation as if the result all depended on yourself; you must pray as if it all depended on him. If you do this you will not sink in the tempest; nay, when it is over you will find that it has driven you nearer to the harbor where storms never come. ---------------- Sermon XXVII. Candlemas-Day. _A light to the revelation of the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people of Israel._ --St. Luke ii. 32. The blessing of candles, and the esteem which Catholics have for candles when they are blessed, is one of the things which Protestants find it very hard to understand. They have no idea of a candle, except that it is a very old-fashioned article, useful enough, perhaps, if you want to grope in some dark corner of the house, but, on the whole, a very poor affair in these days of gas and the electric light. They cannot see why any one who can get a good kerosene lamp should use a candle instead; unless, perhaps, it might be because the candle will not explode. {104} The reason for their perplexity is pretty plain. It is because they do not, or it may be will not, understand that we honor and prize candles, as we do the images of the saints and many other things, not for what they are, but for what they represent; and also on account of the sanctification and real use, not to our bodies so much as to our souls, that the blessing of the church is able to give to anything to which it is attached. Protestants, I say, do not or will not understand these things; but Catholics do. It is not superstition which makes a Catholic prize a blessed candle. He knows, first, that it has been selected by the church to represent our Blessed Lord himself; that its feeble light is a sign of the true light which enlighteneth every man that cometh into this world; and he honors and esteems it for God's sake. And secondly, he knows that it has a power and use greater and higher than that of the most brilliant lamps that the hand of man can make; that, though it be but a material thing, it has a spiritual value, like holy-water and other things which the church has blessed and sanctified; and specially that it is a defence against our spiritual enemies, Satan and the other fallen angels, and all the more so because these proud spirits cannot bear to be put to flight, as they are, by such a common and simple thing as a candle or a few drops of water. {105} You know these things, my friends; the spirit of faith teaches them to you. But you do not bear them so constantly in mind as you should. How often does the priest go to a house on a sick call, and find that there is no candle to be had! The law of the church requires it when the sacraments are to be administered; but one would think it would not need a law to make any one who had the faith see that at least this honor should be given to them. Strange to say, however, the people of the house never thought of the matter at all. They keep our Lord waiting while they run out to borrow, if possible, a candle from some pious neighbor. Perhaps they buy one at the grocery-store; I do not know what blessing they think that has received. When they get the candle, such as it may be, there is probably nothing to put it in; it is likely enough that a bottle is all that can be found. It would look much better, in some houses which we have to visit, if there were fewer bottles and more blessed candles. It would look as if the people who lived there thought at least as much of their souls as of their bodies. It is very unpleasant for all parties--and our Lord is one of them--to have such things happen as I have described. Get rid of the bottle and have a candlestick in its place. I know that candlesticks, as well as candles, are rather out of fashion; but the supply will always follow the demand. For the honor and for the fear of God, do not remain any longer without a blessed candle in your house and something worthy of it to hold it. There will be no harm in burning it, even though no one be sick and the priest not there, if it be at a proper place and time. {106} And, if it be possible, offer a candle to be burned in the place and at the time most pleasing to God of all--that is, on his holy altar while Mass is being offered, or his blessing being given to you in the Sacrament of his love. Honor and glorify him everywhere, but specially in the place where his glory dwelleth, and where he is daily offered up for you. ------------------- {107} _Fifth Sunday after Epiphany_ Epistle. _Colossians iii_. 12-17. Brethren: Put ye on therefore, as the elect of God, holy, and beloved, the bowels ol mercy, benignity, humility, modesty, patience, bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if any have a complaint against another: even as the Lord hath forgiven you, so do you also. But above all these things have charity, which is the bond of perfection: and let the peace of Christ rejoice in your hearts, wherein also you are called in one body; and be ye thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you abundantly, in all wisdom: teaching and admonishing one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual canticles, singing in grace in your hearts to God. All whatsoever you do in word or in work, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, giving thanks to God and the Father by Jesus Christ our Lord. Gospel. _St. Matthew xiii._ 24-30. At that time: Jesus spoke this parable to the multitude, saying: The kingdom of heaven is likened to a man that sowed good seed in his field. But while men were asleep, his enemy came and oversowed cockle among the wheat, and went his way. And when the blade was sprung up, and brought forth fruit, then appeared also the cockle. Then the servants of the master of the house came and said to him: Master, didst thou not sow good seed in thy field? whence then hath it cockle? And he said to them: An enemy hath done this. And the servants said to him: Wilt thou that we go and gather it up? And he said: No, lest while you gather up the cockle, you root up the wheat also together with it. {108} Let both to grow until the harvest, and in the time of the harvest I will say to the reapers: Gather up first the cockle, and bind it into bundles to burn; but gather the wheat into my barn. ---------------------- Sermon XXVIII. _Gather up first the cockle, and bind it into bundles to burn; but gather the wheat into my barn._ --St. Matthew xiii. 30. The parable which is the subject of the Gospel of to-day is explained by our Lord himself a little further on. The disciples asked him to expound it to them; and he told them that the good seed were the children of the kingdom--that is, all good and faithful Christians; and that the cockle were the children of the wicked one--that is, all those who refuse to believe in the faith which God has revealed, or who will not obey his law. These two kinds of people, said he, live together in this world, but at the end of the world they shall all be for ever separated, the wicked to be cast into the furnace of fire, and the just to shine as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Our Lord calls the sinful the children of the wicked one--that is, of the devil. But he does not mean that the devil created them, for he can create no one; no, God created us all, and has, furthermore, redeemed us all with his precious Blood. There is something about them, though, which the devil may be said to have created, and that it is which makes them his children. It is sin, which he first brought into God's creation, to which he tempted our first parents, and to which he is all the while tempting us now. Sin is the devil's work; and sinners are his children, because they do his work. {109} But few people, at least few Christians, are all the time sinners and children of the devil. Sometimes they repent and become, at least for a time, children of God. Good and evil are mixed up in them, as they are in the world. So our Lord's parable is true of each one of them as it is of the world at large. Each of our hearts is a little field in which God is sowing the good seed of his holy inspirations, and the devil the bad seed of his wicked temptations; and sometimes consent is given to one, sometimes to the other. Perhaps we may have asked ourselves the question (for it is a very natural one to ask): "Why has God allowed the devil to sow his bad seed in the world and in the hearts of men? And why, if he lets it be sown, does he not root out this bad seed, and not let it grow and choke what is good?" I should not wonder at your asking this question, and you should not wonder if we cannot give all of God's reasons for it, for it is one of the mysteries of his providence. But he has himself given one reason for it in his explanation of this parable. The servants, you will remember, wanted to go and root out the cockle; but the master said: "No, lest while ye gather up the cockle, you root up the wheat also together with it." Would it not be so with us, too, if God should take away all the bad seed of temptation out of our hearts? A great deal of our virtue would be rooted up, too, and what was left would not be very strong and solid. You can see that often. A person seems very good, but what is the reason? It is because he is not much tempted. {110} Let a strong temptation come, and perhaps such a person will sin more easily than one who has seemed much worse, but has really been acquiring solid virtue by faithfully combating with difficulties the other has not had. And not only would our virtue not be solid, but our merits would not be very abundant, without temptation; for most of our merit is gained by resisting sin. Our Lord, then, does not mean to pull up the cockle out of the way of the wheat, but wants the wheat to live and outgrow the cockle. It is for us to see that it does so; for if there is any cockle left when we come to die there will be something to do before the wheat goes to the barn--that is, to cast the cockle into the furnace of fire; and that furnace of fire, for those who die in the grace of God, is the fire of purgatory. We shall have to wait there till the cockle of sin is all burned before we can go to heaven with our wheat of virtue and of merit. Let us not think, then, in this month of November, only of praying for those who are in those purging flames, but also of avoiding them ourselves. Our Lord does not want us to go to purgatory. He would infinitely rather take us to heaven from our death-bed than let us remain in that state of suffering. What he wants is to have the wheat grow over the whole field and choke the cockle instead of being choked by it--in a word, he wants us to be saints. That is what St. Paul says: "This is the will of God, your sanctification." Let this, then, be our devotion in the month of November and all the year round: to imitate those (and there are many of them) who have died and gone before their Lord with plenty of wheat and no cockle on their hands. -------------------- {111} Sermon XXIX. _Bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if any have a complaint against another: even as the Lord hath forgiven you, so do you also._ --Colossians iii. 13. These words, my dear brethren, are taken from the Epistle of to-day. They certainly contain a most important lesson for us, and one which we are too apt never even to begin to learn. You will find plenty of people who are near the end of a long life--who have, as the saying is, one foot in the grave--who do not seem to know how to overlook and to pardon injuries any better than when they first began to be exposed to them. There are two very good reasons, my brethren, why you should learn this lesson. The first is that, unless you do, you can never be happy in this life; the second, that, unless you have learned it, there is great reason to fear for your happiness in the life which is to come. You can never be happy, I say, in this life, unless you know how to pardon and overlook the injuries you receive from others. And the reason of this is very plain. It is, in the first place, because it is very uncomfortable to be brooding over injuries received--that is plain enough; and, in the second place, you will always be exposed to them. There is a way to avoid them, it is true: it is to go out into the desert and live there in some cave or hut all alone. But I think there are very few nowadays who have any vocation to that; and if you should undertake to live the life of a hermit without any vocation for it, the chances are that you would be ten times as miserable as you would be with the very worst neighbors in the world. {112} This is the only way to avoid them; for, however good the people are among whom you live, they will always be somewhat selfish; they will want to have their own way sometimes, at least, and it will often happen that they cannot have their way and at the same time let you have yours. And they will always be somewhat thoughtless. They will not be so very careful not to offend you; and you cannot expect it of them, for you are not so careful yourself. You would be surprised if you should know how often you have given offence to others. The fact is, there is not room enough in this world for us all to get along without sometimes treading on each other's toes. There are a great many of us sailing together down the stream of life, and it will take the most careful steering to prevent our now and then running foul of each other. And such careful steering cannot be expected of every one, or of any except one or two here and there. If you really should try it yourselves you would find how difficult it is. The saints do try it, and that is one reason why it is a work of sanctity to be indulgent to the faults of others. Well, I said the second reason why you should learn the lesson of forgiveness to others is that, unless you do, there is great reason to fear for your happiness in the life to come. If you can have any doubt of that, those words of our Lord in another place will settle your doubt. "If you will not forgive men," he says, "neither will your Father forgive you your offences." You may confess all your sins, and receive the sacraments over and over again, but so long as you have a hatred against your neighbor your confessions and communions will be bad; you will not be in the friendship of God; and if you go out of the world with that malice in your heart you will be shut out from his presence. {113} You will say to me, perhaps, "Father, I will forgive, but I cannot forget" If you say this to me I say to you: Take care. As long as you do not at least try to forget, as long as you keep in your mind that sore feeling which the injury you have received, or think you have received, has caused, it will always be an occasion of sin to you. It will always prompt you to withhold from the persons whom you blame that charity which you are bound to show to all. You will always be inclined to speak evil of them, to try to prevent others from praising them, to throw out some hint in which the venom which lies lurking in your heart comes up to the surface. And do not be too sure that you have really done all that God requires because the priest has given you absolution. He cannot read your heart, and often he is obliged to forgive uncharitable people like yourself, with great doubt in his mind whether his sentence is approved by the great Judge who cannot be deceived. Now, that you may forgive more easily, remember what I suggested a little while ago: that is, that those who have offended you have generally done so either through selfishness or carelessness, not through malice. Believe me, real malice is quite a rare thing. If you could see the real dispositions of others you would see that on the whole they are about as good as your own; and I do not suppose you think you are malicious, and I do not believe you are. Put, then, those unworthy suspicions out of your minds, and forgive others freely and generously as you yourself wish to be forgiven. ----------------------- {114} _Sixth Sunday after Epiphany_ Epistle. 1 _Thessalonians i_. 2-10. Brethren: We give thanks to God always for you all: making a remembrance of you in our prayers without ceasing, being mindful of the work of your faith, and labor, and charity, and of the enduring of the hope of our Lord Jesus Christ before God and our Father; knowing, brethren beloved of God, your election: for our gospel hath not been to you in word only, but in power also, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much fulness, as you know what manner of men we have been among you for your sakes. And you became followers of us, and of the Lord: receiving the word in much tribulation, with joy of the Holy Ghost: so that you were made a pattern to all who believe in Macedonia and Achaia. For from you was spread abroad the word of the Lord, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but also in every place, your faith which is towards God, is gone forth, so that we need not to speak anything. For they themselves relate of us, what manner of entrance we had unto you; and how you were converted to God from idols, to serve the living and true God. And to wait for his Son from Heaven (whom he raised from the dead), Jesus who hath delivered us from the wrath to come. Gospel. _St. Matthew xiii._ 31-35. At that time: Jesus spoke to the multitude this parable: The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard-seed, which a man took and sowed in his field. Which indeed is the least of all seeds; but when it is grown up it is greater than any herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and dwell in the branches thereof. {115} Another parable he spoke to them. The kingdom of heaven is like to leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, until the whole was leavened. All these things Jesus spoke in parables to the multitudes: and without parables he did not speak to them. That the word might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, saying: "I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter things hidden from the foundation of the world." ------------------- Sermon XXX. The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard-seed. --St. Matthew xiii. 31. A grain of mustard-seed is very little, as our Lord tells us, and also, as we know, very sharp and burning. So is God's church, which is the kingdom of Christ upon earth. First, it is little; not in numbers, but little because it is poor and lowly. The human spirit is proud above all things, disobedient, rebellious, loving to be exalted, wishing to be praised. That which lost paradise, which brought sin and death into the world, which closed heaven, which opened hell, that which robbed us, stripped us of our heavenly inheritance, was _pride_. So, then, the kingdom of God, the church, that which is to govern the heart of man, to rule its disorders, to bring us back to heaven, is poor, is lowly, in the world's eyes is little. The proud world likes to swell itself out and appear big, and makes a wide path to swagger in. Our Lord tells us, "Except ye become as little children ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven"; and again: "Narrow is the gate and strait the way that leadeth to life." Do not wonder, then, that our holy church, which is glorious and magnificent in the eyes of angels and saints, should be thought little, and lowly, and poor by the world, and the flesh, and the devil. {116} Now, it seems that this very poverty of the church ought to be a reason why we should love it. If you are poor, then remember "birds of a feather flock together." The church is poor, too. She has not (particularly in these days) much of this world's goods. Often she is much put about to build even a decent temple in which to worship God. The church sometimes can hardly "keep house" for God--can hardly buy those things which are of daily necessity for his service. Oh! then the poor ought to love the church. Are you rich? Then the poverty of the church ought to touch your heart and open your purse. "The poor you have always with you," says Jesus Christ, and the poorest of the poor is God's church. The priest is obliged to beg for church, for school, and all that is in them--for almost everything, indeed, that is needed for the service of our divine Master. So, then, it is from you who are rich that large alms ought to come, so that Jesus Christ may be able to say that we have _you_ with us and him as well as the poor. Again, while I caution you against hankering after mere ease and comfort in church, and the worldly elegances to be seen in the soft-cushioned and carpeted churches of the sects, I must express my wonder that many wealthy Catholics appear to be quite content to see the churches where they go to Mass fitted up with furniture that would be too mean for use in their own houses. If our Lord finds only more straw and another manger for a cradle for his divine Majesty nowadays, it ought not to be because we furnish him no better. {117} Secondly, the church is like a grain of mustard-seed, because her laws are often sharp and burning to the human heart. Mustard-seed, when crushed, has, as you know, a very strong and pungent odor. If you stand over it when thus crushed it will cause tears to flow from your eyes. If applied to your flesh it will burn and smart. Yes; and sometimes the law of God will make tears start from your eyes. There is some habit you find convenient, some little pet plan you have made, some person to whom you are attached. These things are leading you from God; so his church says: "Change your ways." "Give it up." "It is not lawful for thee." "Cut it off." Ah! don't you feel the sharp mustard-seed getting into your eyes? Again, the flesh rebels. That drink you love so much, that sinful appetite you like to indulge, those places of evil amusement to which you want to go--what says the church about such things? "Take the pledge." "Throw away drink." "You must not gratify that sinful inclination." "You cannot go to that place of amusement." "Give up that bad company or Jesus Christ will give you up." Ah! don't you feel how the mustard-seed burns and stings? But have good courage--better be burnt here than burnt hereafter. That burning of the mustard seed will heal you, will cure you. Its warmth will bring you back to life. Lastly, one day the little seed will become a great tree, whose branches shall reach to the sky, whose boughs shall wave in heaven. Then we, like poor, homeless birds of the air, shall spread our weary wings and go and make our lodgings for ever beneath its sheltering leaves. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------ {118} Sermon XXXI. _The kingdom of heaven is like to leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, until the whole was leavened._ --St. Matthew xiii. 33. The kingdom of heaven, my dear friends, means, as you know, in this as well as in many other of our Lord's parables, not God's kingdom in the next world, but in this--that is, his holy Catholic Church. Understanding it in this way, it is easy to see why he compares it to a grain of mustard-seed or to leaven; for it was small in the beginning, but has grown, as the mustard-seed grows, so that it now has spread through the whole earth; and it was not noticed in the beginning, as the little leaven or yeast would not be in the dough into which it is put, but has now made its influence felt in all the world, as that of the yeast is in the bread which it makes. This was our Lord's intention, that his church should be continually growing till every one should enter it, till every heart should be leavened by its faith. But there are some people--Catholics, too, but a very curious kind of Catholics--who seem to think that the church was only made for those nations or those families which now belong to it, and will even blame those who are converted to it for leaving the religion of their fathers. I do not know what excuse one can make for these persons, except to suppose that God has blessed them with a very small share of common sense. {119} I do not think that there are many people so stupid as to talk in this way; but there are a good many who act as if they thought as these people seem to think. I do not mean that there are many who give the cold shoulder to converts, for that would be an unjust reproach; but I do mean that there are many Catholics who do not seem to understand the world has got to be converted, and that they themselves have got to do their share towards it; that they are part of that leaven with which our Lord meant that the world should be leavened; that it was by means of them, according to their measure of ability and opportunity, that he meant the faith to be diffused through the world. Every Catholic ought to be a missionary in his way and place, and do something to bring others to that knowledge of the truth which he himself has received. Not that every Catholic should go out and preach the faith on the corners of the streets, or to people who would laugh at him or do him more harm than he could do them good; but that every one should be on the lookout for those who are sincere and well disposed, and be ready to give them a helping hand, to explain any difficulties which they may have, or to persuade them to come to the priest, who can explain them more fully. But, above all, that he should spread among those who do not believe the leaven of good example, and not scandalize them by a bad life. One can hardly be too careful to avoid scandalizing even the faithful; and much more care should be taken not to scandalize those who are seeking for the truth, and particularly about those things on which their ideas are very strict and their consciences very sensitive. {120} Take, for instance, the horrible vice of profane swearing, to which many of you, to your own shame you must confess, are so much addicted, and about which you are inexcusably careless. There is no doubt at all that there is many a Protestant who would not so much as think of enquiring about the faith of a person who was in the habit of blaspheming. And yet he may be really anxious to know the truth, and his soul is as dear to God as yours; and if you are the cause, by this abominable habit of yours, of his turning away in despair from the church, most assuredly you will have to give an account for it when your soul shall come to be judged. Many persons all around us are outside of the church to-day because of the prevalence of this sin of profanity among Catholics, because all the Catholics whom they know seem rather to be children of the devil than of the good God. There are many other things, particularly drunkenness and falsehood, by which Catholics spread around them the leaven of bad example, and drive people away from the faith instead of drawing them to it; but I have not time to speak of all. It is for you, my brethren, to look to it that, when you come to die, you shall feel that you have indeed done something to diffuse through the world the leaven of faith and virtue, not of unbelief and vice and that our Lord will not require at your hands the blood of your brother, for whom he died as well as for you. --------------------- {121} _Septuagesima Sunday_ Epistle. 1 _Corinthians ix._ 24; x. 5. Brethren: Know you not that they who run in the race, all run indeed, but one receiveth the prize? So run that you may obtain. And every one that striveth for the mastery refraineth himself from all things; and they indeed that they may receive a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible one. I therefore so run, not as at an uncertainty: I so fight, not as one beating the air: but I chastise my body, and bring it into subjection: lest perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become reprobate. For I would not have you ignorant, brethren, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea. And all in Moses were baptized, in the cloud and in the sea; and they did all eat the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink (and they drank of the spiritual rock that followed them, and the rock was Christ). But with the most of them God was not well pleased. Gospel. _St. Matthew xx._ 1-16. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples this parable: The kingdom of heaven is like to a master of a family, who went early in the morning to hire laborers into his vineyard. And when he had agreed with the laborers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And he went out about the third hour and saw others standing in the market-place idle. And he said to them: Go you also into my vineyard, and I will give you what shall be just. And they went their way. And again he went out about the sixth and the ninth hour, and did in like manner. {122} But about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing, and he saith to them: Why stand you here all the day idle? They say to him: Because no man hath hired us. He saith to them: Go you also into my vineyard. And when evening was come, the lord of the vineyard saith to his steward: Call the laborers and pay them their hire, beginning from the last even to the first. When, therefore, they came, who had come about the eleventh hour, they received every man a penny. But when the first also came, they thought that they should have received more, and they also received every man a penny. And when they received it, they murmured against the master of the house, saying: These last have worked but one hour, and thou hast made them equal to us, that have borne the burden of the day and the heats. But he answering one of them, said: Friend, I do thee no wrong; didst thou not agree with me for a penny? Take what is thine and go thy way: I will also give to this last even as to thee. Or, is it not lawful for me to do what I will? is thy eye evil because I am good? So shall the last be first, and the first last, For many are called, but few chosen. ----------------- Sermon XXXII. Why stand ye here all the day idle? --St. Matthew xx. 6. This life, my dear friends, is often spoken of in Scripture as a day, both on account of its shortness and because the night of death follows. Now, there are certainly many persons who do stand all their lives idle; that is to say, they do not try to "_work_ out their own salvation"; they do not try to do anything in the Lord's vineyard, the church, by helping forward good works either by their means or by their active service. {123} There are a great number of men and women who never think of caring for the great business of their salvation. Day after day goes by, week after week, and they have done no good works, corrected no faults, made absolutely no advancement or improvement. It is too much trouble for them to examine their consciences, too tiresome to stir themselves to go to Mass and the sacraments. They have sunk into a state of spiritual drowsiness by the world's fireside; in a word, they are all the day idle. Oh! if there are any such here, let them take warning. For the night will surely come, and then it will be too late. Perhaps this is the eleventh hour for you. God has called you often before; now, by the voice of his priest, he speaks once more and says: "Why stand ye here all the day idle?" To-day you see again the purple vestments and hangings; they tell you that Lent is fast approaching, that a time of grace is coming round once more. Oh! then, you that have yet a few hours of the day of life left, go into the vineyard of your own souls, root up the weeds, till the soil, plant good seed, that the Father of all may be able in the end to give you the wages of everlasting life. Again, such among you as have means, or who are able to help your pastor by active service in the charge of the sick and the poor, who can teach the uninstructed, help along in sewing-schools and in forming sodalities and pious organizations of various kinds--to you also the cry comes, "Why stand ye all the day idle?" Why, when called upon to bear a little part of the priest's burden, are so many people like an old gun that hangs fire? Why is it often so difficult for the priest to get the active co-operation of the lay people? {124} Why does he so often get the "cold shoulder" as people say, when he asks a little help? Is it not because people won't go into the vineyard, won't work, won't take trouble? Because they would rather not be bothered? How often they say: "I have no time"; "What are the priests for, anyhow?" "Let _them_ look after these things." Thus they stand all the day idle, and the hard work falls on the priests and just a few self-sacrificing helpers. When you are called on, then, by your pastors to help in the parish, "don't be backward in coming forward"; make up your minds that you will not stand idle, but that it shall be "a long pull and a strong pull, and a pull all together." Why should we be so afraid of idleness in spiritual things and in works of charity? Because, my dear friends, the time is short. Life is passing swiftly. The night of death is at hand. Soon the cry will be heard: "Behold, the Bridegroom cometh; go ye forth to meet him." Soon the Master of the vineyard will come and look at our work. Woe to us if he finds that we either never went into the vineyard at all, or, at best, the work there was so ill done that our part of the land is choked with docks and darnels and every kind of weed! You know, doubtless, that people sometimes give to each of their children a little garden to plant; ah! how these children try to make "my garden" the best one. How careful they are of it, how grieved if the frost or some noxious insect should destroy the flowers or fruits! We are all children; God has given us each a little garden, a little piece of his great vineyard, to care and tend. Let us, then, like the little ones, try to make our garden the finest, that when our Father, God, and our dear Mother, Mary, come to look at it they may find it full of beauty and fragrance, and say concerning us: "This one, at least, did not stand all the day idle." Rev. Algernon A. Brown. --------------------------- {125} Sermon XXXIII. They murmured against the master of the house. --St. Matthew xx. 11. We can hardly fail, my dear brethren, to understand the meaning of this parable of our Lord, though he himself has given no explanation of it. He is the master of the house; we are the laborers whom he has hired to work in his vineyard, and hired, too, at a very great price; for the penny which the laborers all received represents the reward of eternal life which he has promised to all who die in his service, even though they come to that service at the eleventh hour--that is, at the end of their lives. Now, I do not know that we are inclined to find fault with our Lord for forgiving one who has sinned during his whole life and sincerely repents, though it be on his death-bed. We are generous enough to be glad when one is really converted and saves his soul; and perhaps all the more if it be at the last moment. We do not find fault with God for his mercy, but rather we thank him for it. But we are inclined to murmur against him for what seems to us to be an unjust and partial distribution of his mercies, as the laborers murmured against their master. They did not complain that the last received a penny, but that they themselves did not receive more. They thought that the master ought to have proportioned the wages to the service rendered; but we can see plainly enough that he was not so bound. {126} All he was bound to was to give the penny to all those to whom he had promised it; as for the rest, he might have given any one of them his whole property, if he had taken a special fancy to him. You would not say that a man acted unjustly if he should single out any one of his servants and make him a special present over and above his regular wages. You would say, as the master of the house said, that he could do what he liked with what remained after his debts were paid. Now, let us apply this, which is nothing but common sense, to our Lord's relations to us. He has a debt to pay to us to which he has bound himself. It is a real debt to us, because it rests on a real promise which he has made. And that debt is to forgive us when we really turn to him and repent of our sins, and to give us, through his own merits and the shedding of his own Blood, the eternal happiness which that precious Blood has purchased for us. But he is not bound to give us graces which will force us to repent; nor is he bound to give to each one of us the same graces inclining us to repent. He has promised forgiveness to those who repent, but not repentance to those who sin. Still less is he bound to give to all the same impulses to perfection, the same interior consolations, the same extraordinary supernatural gifts of any kind. He is no more bound to this than he is bound to give us all the same amount of natural strength, whether of mind or body, or the same amount of worldly goods. He has his reasons for the distribution of his gifts, it is true, and they are wise and holy ones, we may be sure; for he does not act from caprice, as we might do. But they are not reasons of justice to us, but mercy. If we were treated according to strict justice I do not know who among us would be saved. {127} Remember this, then, my brethren, when you are inclined to find fault with our Lord for his treatment of you or others. Remember that you have already received many times more than in strict justice was your due. Remember the countless favors, both temporal and spiritual, which you have already received at his hands, and be ashamed of complaining that others have received even more. Beware of envying them those things which God, in his great mercy, has freely bestowed on them; take care not to covet your neighbor's goods, for that is exactly what you are in danger of doing. And remember, specially, the great gift which he has given you all, and which many others who certainly seem, even in your own eyes, as good as yourselves have not received; that is, the light of the one true faith. Remember that you have not had to struggle in darkness and uncertainty; that you have always been able to know what to believe and what to do. Others, it is true, might have this, too, if they would do their own part; but that part God has done for you. Thank him, then, for this unspeakable mercy, and do not complain of other things which he has given or withheld. ------------------------ Sermon XXXIV. _So run that you may obtain._ --1 Corinthians ix. 24. {128} There is a great rage just now, my brethren, as you are aware, for walking, running, or footing it in any way. He or she is the best man or woman who can go the greatest number of miles in a week, or the greatest number of quarter-miles in the same number of quarter-hours. The interesting question of the present day is who can plod along with the greatest number of big blisters on each foot, or best endure being stirred up every fifteen minutes from a few winks of much-needed sleep, and go to sleep again the soonest after accomplishing the required number of laps on a tan-bark track. This is all very well in its way. Walking is not a bad thing for the health at any time; and just now it is a decidedly good thing for the pocket, if one is strong enough to excel in it. But for most people there are better ways of getting over the ground. Even the professional pedestrian will not refuse, now and then, to make use of the elevated railway. There is one journey, however, which we all have to make on foot. That is the journey to heaven, where we all want to go. There is no elevated railway to take us there. If we are to get there it must be by our own exertions. We may, it is true, save part of the labor by availing ourselves of the very uncomfortable and slow transit provided in purgatory; but that is a thing which we must surely wish to avoid as far as possible. Yes, my brethren, every sensible person will try to escape that means of conveyance, and make this journey on foot over the road prepared in this world. Furthermore, as he has this long walk to take--for heaven is not very near to most of us--he will try to fit himself for it; to go into training, and to keep in training, so that he may not break down on the way, or find himself with a short record when the end of his time arrives. He will bear in mind the warning of St. Paul in to-day's Epistle: "So run that you may obtain." {129} How does the pedestrian manage to run so as to obtain his fame, his thousand dollars, and his gate-money? In the first place he works hard and sticks to his work. He does not waste his time by sitting down on the benches and watching the other man. He keeps on the track as long as he is able. When he cannot keep on any longer he takes the rest and food that he needs--not a bit more--and goes at it again. Sometimes he feels ready to drop; but he keeps on, and the fatigue passes away. Secondly, he not only keeps to his work, but he avoids everything else that can interfere with it. He does not live on plum-cake and mince pie, or fill up with bad whiskey and drugged beer. He adopts a good, plain, wholesome diet--something that will stick to his bones and go to muscle, not to fat. Thirdly, he does not stagger round the ring with a Saratoga trunk on his back. Far from it. He lays aside every weight that he can. He even makes his clothes as light as possible. He does not care to carry anything more than himself over the five hundred miles that he has to go. Lastly, he has a director. He does not call him by that name--he calls him a trainer; but it comes to the same thing. He does not trust his own judgment, but has some one else to feed him, to tend him, to check him, or to urge him on. Now, in all things, my friends, the pedestrian sets us a good example: in the earnestness which inspires him, and the means he takes to ensure success. {130} Imitate him in them in the great journey before you, in which so much more than fame and gate-money is involved. In the first place, keep to your work; let every waking moment be a step toward heaven. Be not weary in well-doing. Secondly, do not indulge sensuality; use what the world has to give so that it may help you on your course, and not for its own sake. Eat and drink so that your body may be strong enough to serve your soul, but not strong enough to rule it. Thirdly, do not put a great load of riches on your back, unless you have got some good use to make of it. You will have to drop it at the end of your race, and it will only keep you back and prevent your winning. Lastly, do not trust yourself too much. Have some one to help you--a director who will guide you and tell you when you make mistakes, when you are going too fast or too slow. This is nothing but common prudence; use it, and your transit to the kingdom of heaven shall be both rapid and sure. ------------------------- {131} Sexagesima Sunday. Epistle. 2 _ Corinthians xi._ 19-_xii_. 9. Brethren: You gladly suffer the foolish: whereas you yourselves are wise. For you suffer if a man bring you into bondage, if a man devour you, if a man take from you, if a man be extolled, if a man strike you on the face. I speak according to dishonor, as if we had been weak in this part. Wherein if any man is bold (I speak foolishly) I am bold also. They are Hebrews; so am I. They are Israelites; so am I. They are the seed of Abraham; so am I. They are the ministers of Christ (I speak as one less wise), I am more; in many more labors, in prisons more frequently, in stripes above measure, in deaths often. Of the Jews five times did I receive forty stripes, save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once I was stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck; a night and a day I was in the depth of the sea; in journeys often, in perils of rivers, in perils of robbers, in perils from my own nation, in perils from the Gentiles, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils from false brethren: in labor and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in many fastings, in cold and nakedness. Besides those things which are without: my daily instance, the solicitude for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is scandalized, and I do not burn? If I must needs glory, I will glory of the things that concern my infirmity. The God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is blessed for ever, knoweth that I lie not. At Damascus the governor of the nation under Aretas the king, guarded the city of the Damascenes to apprehend me. {132} And through a window in a basket was I let down by the wall, and so escaped his hands. If I must glory (for it is not expedient indeed); but I will come to visions and revelations of the Lord. I know a man in Christ above fourteen years ago (whether in the body I know not, or out of the body I know not: God knoweth), such an one caught up to the third heaven. And I know such a man, whether in the body or out of the body, I know not: God knoweth; that he was caught up into paradise; and heard secret words which it is not granted to man to utter. Of such an one I will glory: but for myself I will glory nothing, but in my infirmities. For even if I would glory, I shall not be foolish: for I will say the truth. But I forbear, lest any man should think of me above that which he seeth in me, or anything he heareth from me. And lest the greatness of the revelations should puff me up, there was given me a sting of my flesh and angel of Satan, to buffet me. For which thing I thrice besought the Lord, that it might depart from me; and he said to me: My grace is sufficient for thee; for power is made perfect in infirmity. Gladly therefore will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Gospel. _St. Luke viii_. 4-15. At that time: When a very great multitude was gathered together and hastened out of the cities to him, he spoke by a similitude. A sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed some fell by the wayside, and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it. And some fell upon a rock; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it had no moisture. And some fell among thorns, and the thorns growing up with it, choked it. And some fell upon good ground; and sprung up, and yielded fruit a hundred-fold. Saying these things, he cried out: He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. And his disciples asked him what this parable might be. To whom he said: To you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God; but to the rest in parables, that seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand. {133} Now the parable is this: The seed is the word of God. And they by the wayside are they that hear: then the devil cometh, and taketh the word out of their heart, lest believing they should be saved. Now they upon the rock, are they who when they hear, receive the word with joy: and these have no roots; who believe for a while, and in time of temptation fall away. And that which fell among thorns, are they who have heard, and going their way, are choked with the cares, and riches, and pleasures of this life, and yield no fruit. But that on the good ground, are they who in a good and perfect heart, hearing the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit in patience. ---------------------- Sermon XXXV. _And some seed fell upon a rock_. --St. Luke viii, 6. The sentence which forms the text is sometimes translated "and some fell upon stony ground"--that is to say, the good seed scattered by the sower fell in a place that was hard and rocky. The sower in the parable is Jesus Christ, the seed is the word of God. The great Chief Sower, dear friends, has gone away, but the good seed, the word of God, the doctrines of holy church, her precepts, her laws, the rules of morality, the standard by which we can tell good deeds from sin--all this good seed is still sown by God's priests, by the divinely appointed and ordained ministers of the word of God. Chiefly this sowing is done in the confessional and in the pulpit. In the confessional the sower scatters the good seed into each heart individually; in the pulpit the seed is scattered over the multitude gathered together. {134} It seems a hard thing to say, but alas! in these days the word of God, the good seed, falls for the most part upon stony ground. The priest exhorts, entreats, persuades, threatens, tells of God's justice, speaks of his mercy, holds up the joys of heaven as a reward, points to the abyss of hell as a punishment; and it all falls upon stony ground. It falls upon the high crags of inaccessible rocks, upon the heart of the hardened sinner, upon the stony, adamantine hearts of those who have given up even the thought of repentance. It falls upon you, wretched man, who come to Mass for the sake of appearances every Sunday; upon you who drag a dead, corpse-like, blackened, devil-marked soul here before the altar of God every Sunday morning, without ever thinking of taking that soul to one of those confessionals which stare you in the face. Yes, the good seed falls upon you, and it falls upon a rock waiting to be calcined by the fires of hell. The word of God falls upon the pavement, hard and stony as it is. It falls upon the hearts of frivolous, giddy, conceited girls. It falls upon the hearts of blaspheming, drinking, impure young men. It falls upon the hearts of men of business whose only aim is wealth, and of the women who are votaries of fashion; for what are the hearts of all such but a pavement, a thoroughfare, along which pass every evil beast, every low, degrading passion, and every unholy desire? O you girls and young men of this city and this day! you men and women of the world! you who come and hear the sermon, and afterwards go away with a simper on your powdered faces and a sneer upon your lips! you young ladies and young gentlemen "of the period"--to you I say, your hearts are stony ground. {135} The good seed can never grow upon it. Nothing can flourish there but thorns and briers, whose end is to be burnt. O dear brethren, young and old, rich and poor! tear up the paving-stones, shiver to atoms your pride, your love of the world and its vanities; and when you hear the word of God, when the good seed is scattered, let your hearts be not stony, but soft and moist to receive it. There are others whose hearts are like the pebbly beach. The seed falls there, and then the sea of their pride comes and washes it all away. They know what is said from the pulpit is true, they know the advice in the confessional is good, but they are too proud to change their lives, too proud to own that the priest knows better than they do. They say: Why should the church interfere between my wife and me, or between my children and myself? Why should the head of the family be ruled by the clergy? and the like. On such as these the word falls, but it falls on stony ground. To all of you, then, the Gospel says this morning, "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." Open your ears and soften your hearts. Sermons are not for you to criticise; they are for you to profit by, for you to form your lives upon. The words of the priest are the words of God. The seed that he sows is the good seed. Woe to you if your hearts are stony ground! There is a rank growth which is called stone-crop, which clings to walls and stones; there is a weed-like, yellow grass that sprouts upon neglected house-tops. What do men do with such plants? They cast them forth into the smouldering weed-fire. And so will God cast into the fire that is never quenched those who receive the word of God on stony ground. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------- {136} Sermon XXXVI. _A sower went out to sow his seed._ --St. Luke viii. 5. You all know, my brethren, what this seed is, and who it is that sows it; for our Lord himself explains the parable, and you have just heard the explanation. The seed, he says, is the word of God; and it is God that sows it. And what is the word of God? Protestants tell us that it is the Bible; and their idea of sowing it is to leave a copy of it with everybody, whether they can read and understand it or not. That is not the way, however, that the Divine Wisdom has followed. He has put his word, of which the Bible is no doubt a great part, in the hands and the heart of his church, and told her to preach it to all nations--not to leave copies of it with them. The word of God is, then, the religious instruction which you are all the time receiving, mainly from the priests of the parish to which you belong. It is God that gives it to you through them. It ought to bring forth fruit a hundred-fold, like the seed falling on good ground. You ought not only to hear it but to keep it. Do you? What was the sermon about last Sunday? Don't all speak at once. Well, I am not going to tell you, though I am pretty sure that many of you will never know unless I do. And if you don't remember the last one there is not much chance that you remember the one before that. In fact, I have no doubt that there are plenty of people in the church at this moment who do not remember any sermon at all. All that they ever listened to--or did not listen to--in the many years they have been going to church, went in, as the saying is, at one ear and out at the other. {137} And yet you talk enough about what you hear, some of you at least. You make yourselves a standing committee to decide on the merits of the various preachers that you sit under. You say to each other: "What a fine discourse that was!" or, perhaps: "That was the worst sermon I ever heard." But what either of them was about it would puzzle you to tell. Your ears were tickled, or they were not, and that was all. Perhaps you think I am rather hard on you. You will say: "Father, surely you cannot expect our memories to be so good. And then we hear so much that one thing puts out another." Well, there is some truth in that. Even if you try to remember I know you will forget a good deal; but the trouble is that you do not try. You do not hear sermons in the right way. You think whether they are good or not, but you don't think whether or not there is anything in them that is good for you; and if so, what it is. If, perchance, you do hear anything that comes home to you, you fail to make a note of it. You don't get any fruit from the word of God, though you often think your neighbors ought to. You say: "I hope Mr. or Mrs. Smith, Brown, or Jones heard that"; but you do not hear it yourself. You do not apply it to your own case. You do not try to find out whether anything has been said that it would be well for you to know, or to think of if you do know it. {138} Try, then, to amend in this respect. Listen, when you hear a sermon or instruction, to the word of God in it speaking to you. Do not think who says it, but what is said, and what use you are going to make of it. One day you will be called to account before God's judgment-seat for all these words of his that you have heard; look to it that they bear fruit in your heart. It is better than remembering them, to have them change your lives; but if they do that you will remember them. And they will do that, unworthy as his servants are through whom they come to you, if you listen to them in the right way. Remember, now, what this sermon is about, and don't forget it before next Sunday. ----------------------- Sermon XXXVII. _A sower went out to sow his seed._ --St. Luke viii. 5. Our Divine Saviour, in his explanation of this parable, points out four kinds of soil upon which the seed fell, three of which gave no harvest. The barren soils represent those souls which either do not keep the word of God--and they are the wayside; or, keeping it, do not bring forth fruit--and they are the stony and the thorny ground. Wayside souls are hardened by the constant tramp of sin and dried by the scorching wind of passion. On such ground the seed remains on the surface; it cannot penetrate. "So it is trodden down, and the birds of the air--that is, the devil, swift and noiseless in his flight--come and take the word of God out of such hearts, lest believing they might be saved." Stony soil looks fair enough, but it is shallow; the rock underneath hinders moisture, and the seed, though it sprouts, has but weak roots, which soon wither. {139} There are souls "who hear and even receive the word with joy; and these have no roots," because their Christianity is shallow; right under the fair appearances of religion is the hard rock of worldliness and self-love. Now, the soil in "which we should be rooted," says St. Paul (Eph. ii. 7), "is charity." Again, there are "those who believe for a while, and in time of temptation fall away." The word of God has entered into your souls; it has converted you. But have not evil habits to which you cling, and cherished sins repeated at the first onset of temptation, taken all firmness out of your purpose of amendment and nipped in the bud your good resolution? I hope the mission will have more lasting fruit among you. Thorny soil is full of the germs and roots of useless and hurtful plants. In such ground, says our Saviour, the good and bad seed started up and for a time grew together. Soon the thorns shot ahead, sucked up for themselves all the juices of the earth, shut out the warmth of the sun from the wheat, closed in upon it, and finally choked it. In our fallen nature are the germs of evil, the hot-bed of concupiscence. They are part of ourselves; we cannot get entirely rid of them, as no ground, however well worked, can be freed from bad seeds. There they are with the good, and will sprout up with it; the mischief is in letting them grow until they kill the grace of God and absorb our souls; then, indeed, we are in a state of spiritual suffocation; the divine seed is choked in us. Now, the thorns, says our Saviour, "are the cares, the riches, and the pleasures of life." As long as we are in the world we shall have to bear with its cares. Yet the great care, you know, is your salvation. All other concerns become choking thorns when they take precedence of this. {140} Riches are not the best claim to heaven. Yet it is only the unjust getting, the absorbing love, and the sinful use of them that choke off the life of the soul. And in riches there is danger for the poor, strange as it may seem. As the shadow of St. Peter cured, so the shadow of wealth diseases by causing envy, want of resignation. The poor should beware of the "evil eye" of riches; it is poverty _in spirit_ which is a passport to heaven. The pleasures of life, as you know from your own experience, unless checked by mortification, are fatal to the growth of God's word within us. The sunshine of the world is peculiarly favorable to the tropical vegetation of noxious or useless weeds. Remember that your soul is a field in which Satan has put germs of evil as well as God, of good. Both are watching the growth and looking out for the final result. On you it depends which crop your soul will produce, wheat or thorns. The wheat will be gathered in God's granary, the thorns are only fit to burn. Be ye, therefore, good ground--_i.e._, "hearing the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit in patience." --------------------- {141} _Quinquagesima Sunday_. Epistle. 1 _Corinthians xiii_. 1-13. Brethren: If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And if I should have prophecy, and should know all mysteries, and all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity is patient, is kind: charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely, is not puffed up, is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth: beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: whether prophecies shall be made void, or tongues shall cease, or knowledge shall be destroyed. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect shall come, that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But when I became a man, I put away the things of a child. We see now through a glass in an obscure manner: but then face to face. Now I know in part: but then I shall know even as I am known. And now there remain faith, hope, and charity, these three: but the greatest of these is charity. {142} Gospel. _St. Luke xviii_. 31-43. At that time: Jesus took unto him the twelve, and said to them: Behold we go up to Jerusalem, and all things shall be accomplished which were written by the prophets concerning the Son of Man. For he shall be delivered to the Gentiles, and shall be mocked, and scourged, and spit upon: and after they have scourged him, they will put him to death, and the third day he shall rise again. And they understood none of these things, and this word was hid from them, and they understood not the things that were said. Now it came to pass that when he drew nigh to Jericho, a certain blind man sat by the wayside, begging. And when he heard the multitude passing by, he asked what this meant. And they told him that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by. And he cried out, saying: Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me. And they that went before, rebuked him, that he should hold his peace. But he cried out much more: Son of David, have mercy on me. And Jesus stood and commanded him to be brought to him. And when he was come near, he asked him, saying: What wilt thou that I do to thee? But he said: Lord, that I may see. And Jesus said to him: Receive thy sight: thy faith hath made thee whole. And immediately he saw, and followed him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God. ---------------------- Sermon XXXVIII. Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me. --St. Luke xviii. 38. There are two points, dear brethren, in the conduct of the blind man of whom we have just read, that seem to be particularly noticeable. First, although he could not _see_ Jesus, he nevertheless knew that he was passing by, and cried out: "Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me." Secondly, when "the crowd rebuked him, that he should hold his peace, he cried out _much more:_ Son of David, have mercy on me." {143} Now, that blind man is an image of the souls who are grievously tempted, and also of those who have fallen into the darkness of sin. Now, there are, as we all know, some who are dreadfully tempted. There are good, pious souls who are afflicted with the lowest and most degrading temptations. Crowds of evil imaginations fill their minds; the basest suggestions are made to them by the evil one; the foulest mind-pictures are produced in them; they are urged to be proud, to be vain, unloving, uncharitable, and the like. Such people are for the moment blind. They cannot _see_ Jesus. He is hidden behind these gathering clouds. It seems to them as if the light of God's grace had gone out in their hearts, and they sit down by the wayside, weary and blind. Suddenly they hear sounds in the distance; it is the Mass-bell, the voice of the priest in the confessional, a word from the pulpit, the choir chanting out at High Mass or Vespers. These sounds mingle; they sound like the tread of a multitude, and in the midst of the clamor a still, small voice says: "'Tis Jesus of Nazareth who passes by." Oh! then, poor tempted souls, and you too, unfortunate ones, upon whom has settled the stone-blindness of mortal sin, never mind if you cannot _see_ Jesus; never mind if your darkened orbs cannot gaze upon his sweet face nor meet the look of compassion that he casts upon you; stretch out your hands towards him, all covered with the roadside dust as they are, lift up your choked and faltering voice, and cry aloud to your Saviour: "Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!" He will hear you; he will have mercy; he will touch your poor closed eyes and you shall receive your sight. But now another word of advice, both to those who are trying to get rid of besetting temptations and to those who are striving to shake off the chains of grievous sin. {144} When you have given the first heart-felt cry, when you have made the first move in the right direction, when you have roused yourselves to make the first real effort either to shake off your temptations or to get free from the slavery of sin, then it will very likely happen to you as it did to the blind man: "The crowd will rebuke you that you should hold your peace." There are a good many well-known characters in that crowd. Their names are Timid Conscience, Old Habit, Fear, Despair, Human Respect, Cowardice, Weak Resolution, Want of Firm Purpose, False Shame, No Hope, and a host of others. Now, all these will rebuke the poor, blind, tempted ones and the stone-blind sinners. What, then, must they do? They must take example from the blind beggar in the Gospel. When the crowd rebuked him he cried out _much more:_ "Son of David, have mercy on me!" He knew that he must cry out louder to make his voice drown the buzzing murmurs of the crowd. Jesus did not seem to hear him, so he shouted louder. O you that are blind from temptation, you that are blind in sin, you that have given the first cry, and whose voices seem about to be drowned by the voice of the crowd of old habits and want of trust, cry louder, cry much more: "Son of David, have mercy on me!" Then, no matter if your blindness be never so dark, Jesus will stand still; he will command you to be brought to him; he will say to you: "What wilt thou that I do to you?" And then will be the time for you to pray: "Lord, that I may _see_." O my God! grant that all the tempted and all the sinners may have the grace to make that petition. May God "enlighten all our eyes, that we sleep not in death," and bring us all "to _see_ the God of Gods in Sion"! Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ----------------------------- {145} Sermon XXXIX. _And they understood none of these things, and this word was hid from them, and they understood not the things that were said._ --St. Luke xviii. 34. If you have listened attentively to this Gospel, my dear brethren, it seems to me that you must have been astonished at this part of it. For our Lord certainly could not have told his apostles more clearly about what was going to happen to him than he had told them in the words which immediately preceded these. "The Son of Man," he says, "shall be delivered to the Gentiles, and shall be mocked and scourged and spit upon; and after they have scourged him they will put him to death, and the third day he shall rise again." What more clear account could he have given them of his approaching passion, death, and resurrection? And yet it made no impression on them at all. When the time of his Passion actually came they were quite unprepared for it, as much so as if he had said nothing about it beforehand. How can we account for this? What reason can we give for this blindness to what was put so plainly before their eyes? It was as complete a blindness as that of the poor man whose cure is told in the latter part of the Gospel. {146} There is only one way to account for it. You know there is a proverb that "none are so blind as those who do not want to see." That was the trouble with them, and that was the reason why their blindness was not cured, as was that of the poor man of whom I have just spoken, and who did most earnestly wish and beg to receive his sight. They had a fixed idea before their minds, and they did not want to look at anything else. That idea was that their Master was going to have a great triumph, overcome all his enemies, and set up his kingdom in this world as a great prince; and they were going to have high places in that kingdom, to be rich, powerful, and be respected by everybody. What he said did not fit in with that idea, so they paid no attention to it. They thought he could not be talking about himself, that he must mean somebody else, when he spoke about the "Son of Man." Perhaps you think this was very foolish on their part, and would lay it to some special stupidity or prejudice on the part of these poor, ignorant men. But I think, if you look into your own hearts, you will find them pretty much the same. Most Christians, I am afraid, have got an idea very much like this in their minds. They know, indeed, that Christ did not come into the world to be a great king, as the world understands the word; that he did not acquire great wealth for himself or his friends; that he did not enjoy what we call prosperity and happiness. But they think that is what they themselves have a right to expect. They know, of course, all about the Passion of Christ, but they think it is all over now. {147} And yet there are words for us just as plain as those which the apostles heard and did not understand. We do not see their meaning, and for the same reason; that is, because we do not want to see it. They are not only once repeated, but so many times that I could preach you a long sermon made up of them alone. Their meaning is that the Passion of Christ is not over; that each one of us has our share in it; that the life which he means for us is the same kind of one that he himself led. St. Paul understood it well when he said: "I fill up those things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ." Try, then, my brethren, to get the idea out of your minds that you have come into the world to enjoy yourselves and have a good time. It is an idea unworthy of Christians. Not those who prosper, but those who suffer, are the ones to excite our envy, for they are most like our Divine Lord. And, moreover, those who suffer are really the happiest, if they remember this, for their suffering is a pledge of eternal happiness. It is a sign that he has a place waiting for them in his kingdom very near to him. And let us, like the blind man of the Gospel, ask him to take away our blindness, that we may really see this and believe it; that our eyes may be opened to the light coming from the next world. That will make pain and adversity beautiful and glorious; and we will even hardly wish to hasten the day when, if we are faithful, God himself shall wipe away all tears from our eyes. ------------------------ Sermon XL. Some very important notices have just been read to you, my brethren. Do you know what they are? {148} You ought to by this time, for you have heard them many times before; and yet I am sure that some of you to whom they have been read ten or twenty times already know no more about them now than before you ever heard them at all. Why is this? It is because, as I said last Sunday, you do not listen, and do not try to remember, nor care to understand. What were these notices, then? They were the notices about this great season on which we are entering: the holy season of Lent, the most important one of the whole year. What is the first one of these notices which you have or have not just heard? You don't know. Well, it is this: _All the week-days of Lent, from Ash Wednesday till Faster Sunday, are fast-days of precept, on one meal, with the allowance of a moderate collation in the evening_. Fast-days--do you know what that means? I venture to say that many of you do not; or, if you do, you do not act as if you did. Some people that you would think had more sense seem to think that a fast-day is about the same thing as a Friday through the year, except that it is not so much harm to eat meat on a fast-day as on a Friday. It is hard to understand how any one can be so stupid. What is a fast-day, then? It is a day, as you hear in the notices, on one meal. That does not mean two other full meals besides, and plenty of lunches in between. It means what it says--one full meal, and only one. The church has, it is true, allowed, as the notices say, a moderate collation in the evening What does that mean? As much as you want to take? No. How much, then? Eight ounces is the amount commonly assigned. {149} That is to say, you have your dinner, and a supper of eight ounces in weight. Is that all? No, not quite. Custom has also made it lawful to take a cup of tea or coffee and a small piece of bread, without butter, in the morning. This is an important point; for if this will prevent a headache and enable you to get through with your duties as usual, you are bound to take it, and not get off from the fast on the ground that you cannot keep a strict fast on nothing at all till noon. This, then, is what is meant by a fast-day. It may be a day of abstinence from flesh-meat, or it may not be. Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday you can have meat, but at dinner only; and no fish, oysters, etc., when you have meat--the tea or coffee and the eight ounces the same those days as on the others. But on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday no meat at any time. And remember, nothing can be eaten on a fast-day but just as I have described--no lunches, large or small, between meals. But you say: "I will get very hungry and lose a good many pounds on such a scant diet as that." Yes, that is quite likely; and that is just what Lent was made for, that you might get hungry and lose as many pounds as you can spare. That never seems to occur to some people. It wouldn't do some of you any harm to lose a few pounds; you will recover from it, I am sure. The papers say that one of the pedestrians (a woman, too, by the way) lost over thirty in a long walk she has just finished. Is it not as easy to suffer a little for the honor of God as a great deal for one's own? {150} But is there no excuse? Oh! yes. There are plenty. They are given in the last paragraph of the notices. If you are weak or infirm--really, that is; not with a weakness beginning on Ash Wednesday and ending on Easter Sunday--if you are too old or too young; or if from any reason, like hard work, you really need abundant food. In case of doubt consult a priest. But these excuses do not allow one to eat meat. They excuse, as you hear in the rules, from fasting, but _not from abstinence_. And yet you will hear people saying: "They told me I was not bound to fast," and forthwith eating meat as often as they can get it, just the same as if it was not Lent at all. Understand, then, it takes a much greater reason to excuse from abstinence than from fasting. Never eat meat at forbidden times in Lent without getting proper permission. Ordinary work is no excuse. I would like to say much more about these matters, that you might fully understand them, were there time to do so. But remember that the rules of Lent are binding, like the other laws of the church, in conscience; and if you break them in any notable way you commit a mortal sin. Suffer a little now, that you may not suffer for ever, banished from the kingdom of God. ------------------- {151} _First Sunday of Lent_ Epistle. 2 _Corinthians vi._ 1-10. Brethren: We do exhort you, that you receive not the grace of God in vain. For he saith: "In an accepted time have I heard thee; and in the day of salvation have I helped thee." Behold, now is the acceptable time: behold, now is the day of salvation. Giving no offence to any man, that our ministry be not blamed: but in all things let us exhibit ourselves as the ministers of God, in much patience, in tribulation, in necessities, in distresses, in stripes, in prisons, in seditions, in labors, in watchings, in fastings, in chastity, in knowledge, in long suffering, in sweetness, in the Holy Ghost, in charity unfeigned, in the word of truth, in the power of God; by the armor of justice on the right hand and on the left: through honor and dishonor: through infamy and good name: as seducers, and yet speaking truth: as unknown, and yet known: as dying, and behold we live: as chastised, and not killed: as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing: as needy, yet enriching many: as having nothing, and possessing all things. Gospel. _St. Matthew iv_. 1-11. At that time: Jesus was led by the spirit into the desert, to be tempted by the devil. And when he had fasted forty days and forty nights, he was afterwards hungry. And the tempter coming, said to him: If thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread. But he answered and said: It is written, "Man liveth not by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth from the mouth of God." {152} Then the devil took him up into the holy city, and set him upon the pinnacle of the temple, and said to him: If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down, for it is written: "That he hath given his Angels charge over thee, and in their hands shall they bear thee up, lest perhaps thou hurt thy foot against a stone?" Jesus said to him: It is written again: "Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." Again the devil took him up into a very high mountain, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them. And said unto him: All these will I give thee, if falling down thou wilt adore me. Then Jesus saith to him: Begone, Satan, for it is written: "The Lord thy God shalt thou adore, and him only shalt thou serve." Then the devil left him: and behold, Angels came and ministered to him. ------------------------ Sermon XLI. _Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God._ --St Matthew iv. 7. What is it to tempt God? The words sound very strange; for we know that God is infinitely good, and that he cannot be tempted, like us, to commit sin. So that cannot be what is meant by tempting him. We shall see easily enough what is meant by it if we consider what it was that the devil suggested to our Lord. He said to him: "Throw yourself down from this pinnacle of the temple; no harm will happen to you, for your life is too precious to God for him to allow it to be lost. His angels will carry you down safely; a miracle will be worked in your behalf." That which Satan wished our Lord to do is what is meant by tempting God. It is to try and see if he will not do some extraordinary thing for us which there is no need for him to do; to presume on his mercy and providence. {153} That is what the Latin word means from which our word "tempt" comes. It means to try, to make an experiment. That, in fact, is the real meaning of our word "to tempt." When the devil tempts us he is trying us, to see how far our love of God will go; he is making an experiment to find out the strength of our souls. God does not let him try all the experiments he would like to. He has no right to try us in this way; but God lets him do it for our own good. But God does not allow us to be trying any experiments on his mercy and goodness. He does not allow us to depend upon it, except when we know that we have a right to do so. And yet that is what people, and even Christians, are doing all the time. Perhaps you do not know how; but you ought to know, and I will tell you. A man tempts God when he puts himself, without necessity, into an occasion of sin. He knows, or ought to know, that he cannot depend on God's grace to keep him from sin in such a case. He knows that God may indeed help him through, so that he will not sin, and perhaps that he has done so before; but he knows, or ought to know, that God has not promised him such a grace, and that it will be nothing surprising if he does not give it to him. Such is the case of the drunkard who has some sort of a desire to reform his life, and who goes into a liquor-store. He ought to know that he must have God's grace if he is to avoid getting drunk; and so he tries God, to see if he will give him that grace. But there is no need for him to make the experiment, for he could avoid it by simply keeping outside; and that is what God will certainly give him the grace to do, if he prays and is in earnest. {154} Let such a man remember, before he goes near the place, those words: "Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." Such is the case, too, of young men or women who trust themselves in company of one with whom they have often acted immodestly before. They may pretend to have great sorrow for these past sins, but it is false; they may deceive themselves or their confessors, but not Almighty God, who reads their hearts. No one is truly sorry for his sins when he continues in the great sin of tempting God. I will tell you of some other people who tempt God. They are those who remain quietly in mortal sin, day after day, week after week, month after month. They say to themselves: "God is good; he will give me time to repent." God may well say to such a one: "Thou fool, who has told thee that? This very night I will require thy soul of thee." He has a right to do it; and you have no right to expect another day of him. When you do so you are trying his patience; you are making an experiment on his mercy. This present moment is all you have a right to depend on. And yet you will sleep night after night in sin, forgetting that, if God should treat you justly, the morning would find you dead; forgetting that your whole life is nothing but a long temptation of God. ------------------- Sermon XLII. _Man liveth not by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God._ --St. Matthew iv. 4. One of the greatest, if not _the_ greatest, of the defects of the present time is an inordinate care for temporal and material things. {155} How shall we live? what shall we eat? wherewithal shall we be clothed?--these are the questions which men are all too much exercised about at the present day. We see persons who rise, and cause their children to rise, at a very early hour, and from that time till late at night they are working and toiling. We see men of the world who really injure their health, and perhaps shorten their days, by their close and unflagging attention to business. Why do people act thus? All for the sake of the bread that perisheth, all in order to heap up a few dollars which at best they can keep but for a few years. So great has this thirst for money-making become that we see it even in our young boys. They don't want to stay at school; they don't want to store up learning; by the time they are fourteen or a little older (having nothing in their heads but reading, writing, and a little confused arithmetic) they want to be off to the store, the workshop, or the factory. Why? Because they want to join as soon as possible in the wild-goose chase after the goods of the world. Now, all these classes of persons have to learn "that man liveth not by bread alone." My dear friends, besides that poor body which you work so hard to feed, to clothe, and to please, you have an immortal soul. Body and soul united form what we call man. So, then, you must not act as if you were all body. You cannot do so without peril to your soul. Suppose you were to try an experiment of this kind. You say to yourself: "I will eat nothing; I will have prayers for breakfast, confession for lunch, prayers and devotions for dinner, and meditation on death for supper." Then you try it for a week. {156} What an elegant skeleton you would make for a museum at the end of that time! Yet people treat their souls just in that way. Instead of refreshing it with prayers and devotions, etc., they give it clothes, meat and drink, calculations of stock, calculations of profits, cares of this world, etc., and thus the soul is starved just as the body would be by improper food. So then, dear brethren, don't try "to live by bread alone." You can't do it. Try also to live "by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God"--that is to say, by doing those things which, either by his church or by the interior inspirations of his grace, he wishes you to do. Are you in business, or at work? Very well; take care of your affairs prudently, work faithfully, but remember this is not all. You must also find time to pray, find time for confession and the hearing of holy Mass. Don't leave piety to priests, religious women, and children, but let the men also be seen in the church and at the altar-rail. It is a custom in some places that the men should sit on one side of the church and the women on the other. Don't you think if we tried that plan that the numbers on the men's side would often be rather slim? Why? Because they are out in the world trying to live by "bread alone." O my dear friends! why care so much for the goods of this world? Why lay up so much treasure where rust and moth destroy, and where thieves break through and steal? We cannot take a cent with us when we go, and our poor body, even _that_ which we have pampered so much, must decay and return to dust. Let us, then, this morning make a good resolution, that when the devil comes and tempts us to give ourselves up too much to thoughts about our food, our raiment, and our temporal affairs, we will repulse him with these words: "It is written, 'Man liveth not by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.'" Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------ {157} Sermon XLIII. _Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert, to be tempted by the devil._ --St. Matthew iv. 1. Do you know what the word "tempt" means, my brethren? I have no doubt that you know what it is to be tempted. You know that, as St. James says, "every man is tempted, being drawn away, by his own concupiscence, and allured." You yourselves have often been tempted; your concupiscence--that is, your sinful passions of one kind or another--have often tempted you, allured you, enticed you away from the law of God. But the word "to tempt" does not mean "to allure" or "to entice." It means "to try." To tempt any one is to try him to see what sort of stuff he is made of; that's the real meaning of the word--just as a gun, for instance, is tried by putting in an overcharge to see if it will burst, though I would not advise any of you to tempt a gun in that way. It is not a very safe experiment. That is the kind of experiment, though, that the devil is always trying on us. He is not afraid of accidents. If an accident does happen it will not hurt him. It is just what he wants. So he tries us in various ways to find where our weak point is; for he cannot tell without trying. {158} When he succeeds, when we break down under his temptations, he says to himself: "That's good. I hit the right spot that time, I'll try that again." For you see we are not like guns: we can be burst more than once. Now, the Gospel tells us that our Lord himself was led into the desert to be tempted by the devil; that is, to have the devil experiment on him. This seems strange. What use was it to try him? Did not the devil know that he was God and could not sin? No, my brethren, it is probable that he did not. If he had he would not have wasted his time in a temptation which would be of no use. But why did not our Lord let him know it? It was because, being man as well as God, he chose to be tempted or tried like the rest of us: first, that he might set us an example in resisting temptation; and, secondly, that he might merit for us a grace which should make it easy to do so. So he was led into the desert, for our sakes, by his own Spirit--by the Holy Spirit of God. He has set us the example and merited for us the grace; and, thanks to what he has done for us, it is easy for us to resist temptation. But you do not believe it, that is the trouble. Some of you think it is impossible to resist temptation. You say, to excuse your sin, "I could not help it." Now, that is simply a lie; or, rather, it is more: it is a blasphemy against God. It is as much as to say, "God did not give me the grace to resist temptation," and thus to make him a partaker in your sins. {159} You can help it. When our Lord drove away the devil, as the Gospel to-day tells us, he made it easy for us to do the same. And it is a great shame not to do it. What a disgrace to God, and what a laughing-stock to the devil, is a man or a woman who breaks down every time he or she is tried! Yet I am afraid there are plenty of such. God does not tempt you. St. James tells us that. He has no need to, for he knows what you are made of. But he lets the devil do it, that you may merit by resisting; and he does not let you have any more temptation than you can bear. Remember that, then, the next time you are tempted. Say to yourself: "I have got strength enough to resist this with the help of God. I'll turn the laugh on the devil, instead of his having it on me. I'll show him he was a fool to try to tempt me. I'll let him see that he hit the wrong spot instead of the right one; in fact, that there isn't any right spot to hit. Here's a chance for me to get some merit, and to show that I am good for something; that I am of some use after all the labor that my Maker has spent on me." Say this in the name of God and in the strength which he gives you, and you will be surprised to see how the devil will run away. No doubt he will try you again, but if you persevere he will give it up as a bad job at last, and you will enter heaven with the reward the Lord wishes to give you--that is, a great stock of merit instead of sin from the temptations which you have had. --------------------------- {160} _Second Sunday of Lent._ Epistle. 1 _Thessalonians iv_. 1-7. Brethren: We pray and beseech you in the Lord Jesus, that as you have received from us, how you ought to walk, and to please God, so also you would walk, that you may abound the more. For you know what commandments I have given to you by the Lord Jesus. For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you should abstain from fornication. That every one of you should know how to possess his vessel in sanctification and honor, not in the passion of lust, like the Gentiles who know not God: and that no man overreach, nor deceive his brother in business: because the Lord is the avenger of all such things, as we have told you before, and have testified. For God hath not called us unto uncleanness, but unto sanctification in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. Matthew xvii_. 1-9. At that time: Jesus taketh unto him Peter and James, and John his brother, and bringeth them up into a high mountain apart. And he was transfigured before them. And his face did shine as the sun: and his garments became white as snow. And behold, there appeared to them Moses and Elias talking with him. And Peter answering, said to Jesus: Lord, it is good for us to be here: if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias. And as he was yet speaking, behold a bright cloud overshadowed them. And behold, a voice out of the cloud, saying: This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased: hear ye him. {161} And the disciples hearing, fell upon their face, and were very much afraid, and Jesus came and touched them, and said to them: Arise, and be not afraid. And when they lifted up their eyes they saw no man, but only Jesus. And as they came down from the mountain, Jesus charged them, saying: Tell the vision to no man, till the Son of Man be risen from the dead. ----------------------- Sermon XLIV. _And he was transfigured before them. And his face did shine as the sun: and his garments became white as snow. ... Behold a bright cloud overshadowed them. And behold! a voice out of the cloud, saying: This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. _ --St. Matthew xvii. 2, 5. I think, brethren, one can hardly read the above account of the Transfiguration of our dear Lord without having suggested to our minds one of the most beautiful of the many services of the Catholic Church. I mean the rite of Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. We ourselves are the three disciples. The mountain up into which our Lord brings us is the holy altar. His face, shining as the sun, is represented to us by the bright lights that cluster round his throne, and by the refulgence of the rays of the monstrance which contains him. Then his garments are indeed as white as snow; for he veils his divinity under the form of the purest wheaten bread, and hides himself beneath its appearances as though he should wrap his sacred Body in pure white raiment. Then the bright cloud is the floating incense, and the voice out of the cloud the tinkling bell, which seems to say to us as Jesus is held aloft and as we bend low in adoration: "This is God's beloved Son, in whom he is well pleased." {162} So then, the Gospel for to-day naturally suggests to our minds a few reflections on this great devotion of the church--Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. Now, a great many persons seem to think that Benediction is only "tacked on," as it were, to the office of Vespers. This idea is all wrong. To be sure. Benediction is often given directly after Vespers, but it is an entirely separate and distinct service. Vespers end with the Antiphon of the Blessed Virgin; Benediction begins when the Holy Sacrament is taken from the tabernacle and placed in the costly metal frame called the monstrance, or ostensorium. So, then, Benediction is not part of Vespers, or of any function which may precede it; and I want to make this very clear, because I think the false notion that it is merely something supplementary is a reason why so many people neglect it. What, then, is Benediction? It is the solemn exposition of the same Jesus whose face shone so bright on Thabor. He stays there upon the altar for a little while, that we may kneel before him, adore him, praise him. Then he is lifted up in the hands of his priest, and he gives us his blessing. Remember, it is not the priest who blesses you at Benediction; it is Jesus himself who does so. Now, it is very true, dear friends, that people are not _bound_ to come to Benediction; yet surely, if each one realized what a blessed thing Benediction is, no one who could come would stay away. Jesus is there on the altar. He is waiting to hear your prayers, waiting to receive your acts of love and adoration, waiting to bless you. Oh! then come often to Benediction. Do not say, "There is nothing but Vespers this afternoon"; remember there is something more --Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. {163} There is a day fast approaching on which the Holy Sacrament will be carried in procession, and then placed in the most solemn manner in the repository. I mean Maundy Thursday. Now, that is also an exposition of the Blessed Sacrament, and, although Jesus is not held aloft by the priest as at ordinary Benedictions, who can doubt but that Jesus blesses us as he passes by? I pray you, then, when that day arrives to remember who it is who comes to you. Let us see the church full, not of gazers at the lights and flowers, but of faithful worshippers of their King and God. If you go from church to church on that day don't go to peer, don't go to see, but to to pray. So when the devotion of the Forty Hours is announced in your church--that devotion which is the most solemn of all the expositions and benedictions through the year--be devout; spend at least an hour in the day before the Lamb of God. Remember that the Holy Sacrament is Jesus Christ--the very same who was born in Bethlehem and died on Calvary. Lastly, come to Benediction always with a living faith and a burning love. Never let your place be vacant, if you can help it, when you know it is to be given. Set a great store by it. In the words of a living preacher: "Night by night the Son of God comes forth to you in his white raiment, wearing his golden crown; night by night his sweet voice is heard, and he looks for you with a wistful gaze; do not turn away from such blessedness as this; do not refuse to listen to his pleading words; do not let your places be empty before the altar when Jesus comes." Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ----------------------- {164} Sermon XLV. _And that no man over-reach, nor deceive his brother in business; because the Lord is the avenger of all such things._ --1 Thessalonians iv. 6. These words are from the Epistle of to-day, my dear brethren, and are certainly suggestive, or at least should be so, at this season which the church has assigned as a time for examination of conscience and repentance for sin. The sin which St. Paul warns us against goes, when it is practised in other ways, by worse names than the one which he gives it here. A man meets you on a lonely road and takes your money forcibly from you; what do you call it? You call it robbery. A man enters your house at dead of night and carries off your property; what do you call it? You call it burglary. A man picks your pocket on the street; what do you call it? You call it theft. Well, it is all one and the same thing. All these are various ways of breaking the Seventh Commandment; and what is that? _Thou shalt not steal._ And what is it to deceive or over-reach some one else in business? It is just the same thing as these; it is the breaking of this same commandment; it is stealing, just as much as robbery, burglary, and theft are, only it does not go by so bad a name, and is not so likely to be punished by the laws of the land. And what do I mean by this over-reaching or deceiving? I mean selling goods under false pretences for more than they are really worth; using false weights or measures; evading in one way and another the payment of one's just debts; taking advantage of one's neighbor's difficulties to make an undue profit for one's self; in short, all the many ways in which men turn a dishonest penny or dollar; in which they get rich by trickery and injustice. {165} All these are stealing, just as bad and a great deal more dishonorable than robbery, burglary, or theft, because not attended with so much risk to the person who is guilty of them. Now, it seems to me that this sin of cheating--for that is the bad name such sharp practices ought to go by, though they often do not--is a most strange and unaccountable one; much more so than those other kinds of stealing. The man who breaks into your house or who picks your pocket is generally one who is pretty badly off, and who needs what he takes more than the people do from whom he takes it. You do not expect to find rich men setting up as burglars or pickpockets. It is true, sometimes you do find people who have a passion for stealing things when they have plenty of money to buy them; but that is commonly considered to be a special kind of insanity, and they have a name made on purpose for it; they call it "kleptomania." The people who do this are supposed to be crazy on this particular point; but is it not really just the same thing for a man who has enough and to spare to be trying to cheat his neighbor? Such a man, it would seem, must be crazy too. And there is another way in which cheating is a strange thing, and especially in a Catholic. For every Catholic at least must know that if he tries to cheat he himself gets cheated worse than the people he is trying to impose on. For he gets himself into a very bad position. He has got to do one of two things. {166} One is to restore, as far as possible, what he has cheated other people out of; and that is a very hard thing to do sometimes--much harder than it would have been to have left cheating alone. But hard as this is, the other is much harder. For the other thing is to go to hell; to be banished from God for ever; to pay for all eternity the debt which he would not pay here. Do not, then, my brethren, get yourselves into this position. But if you are in it do the first of these two things. Restore your ill-gotten goods. Do it now; not put it off till you come to die. It will cost you a struggle then as well as now; and even if you try to do it then, it is doubtful if those who come after you will carry out your wishes. A purpose to restore which is put off till a time when you cannot be sure of carrying it out is rather a weak bridge on which to pass to eternal life. Remember now what you will Wish at the hour of death to have remembered; remember those words of our Lord: "What doth it profit a man, if he gain the whole world and suffer the loss of his own soul?" ------------------------ Sermon XLVI. Those of you, my brethren, who are keeping Lent as it should be kept are beginning by this time, if I am not mistaken, to think that it is a pretty long and tedious season. Fasting and abstinence, giving up many worldly amusements, getting up early in the morning and going to Mass as so many of you do, and other such things, get to be rather tiresome to the natural man after a few days; and I have no doubt you are quite glad that Lent does not last the whole year, and are looking forward to the time when it will be over. I have always noticed that there were not many at Mass in Easter week, and there are very few, I imagine, who fast or abstain much then. {167} And perhaps you are even inclined to say: "What ever did the church get up Lent for at all? Certainly we could be good Christians without it, or save our souls, at any rate." But when you come to think of it you know well enough why Lent was instituted. You know that we cannot save our souls without abstaining from sin, and that we shall not be likely to abstain from sin unless we abstain sometimes also from what is not sinful. You know also that we cannot get to heaven without doing penance for our sins, and that it is better to do penance here than in purgatory. And you know, too, that most people will not abstain much or do much penance beyond what the church commands; so you know why the church got up Lent. She did it that we might get to heaven sooner and more surely. That ought to be our encouragement, then, in it, that every good Lent brings us a good deal nearer to heaven; that heaven is the reward of penance and mortification. And it is partly to keep this before our minds that the church tells us in to-day's Gospel the story of our Lord's transfiguration: how he took Peter and James and John up with him on Mount Thabor, and there appeared to them in his glory; and filled their hearts with renewed courage and confidence in him, and with a firm belief that it was worth their while to follow him, even if they had to sleep out at night, and not get much to eat, and suffer in many ways--that it was worth while for the sake of the good time coming, of which his glory was a promise, though they did not know just when or what it would be. {168} They thought, perhaps, it would be in this world; that their Master would come out in the power and majesty that they could see that he had, put down all his enemies, and reign as a great king on the earth. We know better; we know, or ought to know, that it will not be in this world. But we know that the good time coming will be something a great deal better than anything that can be in this world. So we ought to be a great deal more encouraged than they were, especially when we think how little, after all, we have to suffer compared with what was asked of our Lord's chosen apostles. We do not have to sleep on the ground, or live on grains of wheat picked off the stalk in the fields, as they sometimes had to do. We have not got to look forward, as they did after his death, to long and painful labors and journeyings, to being driven from one city to another, to being scourged and buffeted, and put at last to a cruel death. No; on the whole, we have got a pretty easy time. We probably will not starve; nobody will persecute us; we will most likely always have a house to live in, and die in our beds. It is not much, then, is it, to eat fish instead of meat, to fast enough to have a good appetite, to lose a little sleep and get a little tired? Perhaps if we would think more of the reward for such little things, and think a little more of the good time coming in heaven, we might even wish that Lent was more than forty days long. ------------------------------- {169} _Third Sunday of Lent_ Epistle. _Ephesians_ v. 1-9. Brethren: Be ye followers of God, as most dear children. And walk in love as Christ also hath loved us, and hath delivered himself for us an oblation and a sacrifice to God for an odor of sweetness. But fornication and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not so much as be named among you, as becometh saints: nor obscenity, nor foolish talking, nor scurrility, which is to no purpose: but rather giving of thanks. For know ye this, and understand that no fornicator, nor unclean, nor covetous person which is a serving of idols hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God. Let no man deceive you with vain words. For because of these things cometh the anger of God upon the children of unbelief. Be ye not therefore partakers with them. For you were heretofore darkness, but now light in the Lord. Walk ye as children of the light: for the fruit of the light is in all goodness, and justice, and truth. Gospel. _St. Luke_ xi. 14-28. At that time: Jesus was casting out a devil, and the same was dumb; and when he had cast out the devil, the dumb spoke; and the multitude admired: but some of them said: He casteth out devils in Beelzebub, the prince of the devils. And others tempting, asked of him a sign from heaven. But he, seeing their thoughts, said to them: Every kingdom divided against itself shall be brought to desolation, and a house upon a house shall fall. And if Satan also be divided against himself, how shall his kingdom stand? because you say, that in Beelzebub I cast out devils. Now if I cast out devils in Beelzebub, in whom do your children cast them out? {170} Therefore they shall be your judges. But if I, in the finger of God, cast out devils, doubtless the kingdom of God is come upon you. When a strong man armed keepeth his court, those things which he possesseth are in peace. But if a stronger than he come upon him and overcome him, he will take away all his armor wherein he trusted, and will distribute his spoils. He that is not with me, is against me: and he that gathereth not with me, scattereth. When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through places without water, seeking rest: and not finding, he saith: I will return into my house whence I came out. And when he is come, he findeth it swept and garnished. Then he goeth and taketh with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and entering in they dwell there. And the last state of that man becometh worse than the first. And it came to pass, as he spoke these things, a certain woman from the crowd lifting up her voice, said to him: Blessed is the womb that bore thee, and the paps that gave thee suck. But he said: Yea, rather, blessed are they who hear the word of God and keep it. ----------------------- Sermon XLVII. _Every kingdom divided against itself shall be brought to desolation._ --St. Luke xi. 17. We can see at once how true the sentence just read is; for if the head of a kingdom were to rise against the members, the king against his ministers, the people against both king and government, and the army and navy against their proper commanders--if all this should take place, then I say that kingdom would certainly be brought to desolation, and any enemy could easily come along and take possession of it. {171} Now, dear brethren, the Christian family is a little kingdom. The father and mother are the king and queen, the older and more experienced members of the family are the counsellors, the children the subjects of that kingdom. The Christian family ought to be most closely united, and this for many reasons. Each member has been baptized with the same baptism, been sanctified by the same Holy Spirit. They have all been pardoned for their sins through the same Precious Blood, do all eat of the same spiritual food, the Body and Blood of Christ. Then, to come to natural reasons, they are bound together by the tie of blood, by the tie of parental and filial affection; they live together, pray together, rejoice together, suffer together. So there is every reason why the Christian family should be united; and if it is to fulfil its mission properly it _must_ be united, or it will be brought to desolation. O my dear friends! how many of these little kingdoms which should go to make up the grand empire of Jesus Christ upon earth fall away from their allegiance to him, and all because they are divided against themselves. We see a father, for instance, given over to habits of drunkenness; he comes home either in a dull, heavy stupor or else in a perfect fury of rage; he worries his wife, scares his children, disgraces himself; all his family shrink from him. There you see at once the head divided against the members. Or there is in the family a cross, ill-tempered, scolding wife, and, as the Scripture says, "there is no anger above the anger of a woman: it will be more agreeable to abide with a lion and a dragon than to dwell with a wicked woman. As the climbing of a sandy way is to the feet of the aged, so is a wife full of tongue to a quiet man." {172} Such a woman would divide any family; she destroys the unity thereof just as much as the drunken husband. What, also, must be thought of interfering relations, cousins, aunts, uncles, and last, but not least, mothers-in-law? How often do they make mischief and destroy the kingdom of the Christian family! So, too, rebellious children, quarrelsome brothers and sisters--they all destroy peace, they all help to divide the kingdom, they all help to bring it to desolation; and in the end, instead of a fair kingdom, strong and united, nothing remains but a wretched scene of strife and contention, and in comes the devil and takes possession of everything. Now, my dear friends, when by your drunkenness, your crossness, your mischief-making and party-spirit, by your rebellion against parental authority, you divide the kingdom of your family, not only you yourselves will suffer, not only will you and your family have to endure spiritual injury and perhaps loss of salvation, but the great kingdom of Christ, now militant here on earth, and one day to be triumphant in heaven, suffers also. Who make up the church on earth? Individuals, families. Who are to fill the ranks of the heavenly kingdom? The same. Oh! then, if you are divided against yourselves, if you are brought to desolation, you are part of the devil's kingdom on earth, and will form part of his empire of sin and death in hell. For God's sake, brethren, _stop this evil war_. Stop these things which make the family miserable. Have peace in your homes. Let men see that the peace of Christ and the union of Christ dwell there. Correct your faults; curb your tongues and your tempers; be obedient. {173} Remember, the first words the priest says when he comes to your homes on a sick-call are these: "Peace be to this house and all that dwell therein." Try to profit by that benediction. Try always to have the peace of God, which passeth all knowledge, and then shall your kingdom stand. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ---------------------------- Sermon XLVIII. "Are you going to make your Easter duty?" This is an important question just now, my dear brethren. You should put it to yourselves, and your answer should be: "Yes, certainly." The church commands it; and you know very well that he who will not hear the church is to be held as a heathen and a publican; that he who despises the church despises our Lord, and he who despises the Lord despises his Father who is in heaven. Surely you will not make yourselves guilty of this frightful sin of contempt; surely you do not wish to be held as a heathen. But knowing, as you do, the precept of the church binding at this time, how can you expect, if you do not fulfil it, to escape from the consequences of your disobedience, as expressed in the words of our Lord which I have just recited? To go against the church in one of her commands is to spurn her authority altogether. It is strange that people should make, of their own wits or fancy, distinctions between the precepts of the church, when the church makes and acknowledges no such distinctions. The authority in all cases is the same, and, therefore, the commands are all equally binding. Yet how many Catholics who would scruple to eat meat on Friday or miss Mass on Sunday think nothing at all of breaking, without reason, the fast and abstinence of Lent, and give no heed whatever to the obligation of going to confession and communion in Easter-time! {174} It really looks, to judge from their conduct, as if this Easter duty was not on an equal footing with the other commands of the church; as if the church did not mean what she prescribes. Now, the truth of it is, to this precept is attached a more severe sanction than to any other. The church makes any Catholic who violates it liable to excommunication, and deprivation of burial in consecrated ground. So you see the obligation is very strict and the church is terribly in earnest about it, if you are not. To take matters in your own hands, as so many Catholics do on this point, and call little what she calls great, and slight an order that she is so anxious about, is to be a heathen, or, at any rate, a Protestant; it is to set your private judgment above her authority; it is to despise God, who commands through her. If you would only take this view of it--and this is the true view to take--you would think more than once before you would say: "O pshaw! any other time will do. Once a year? All right; I find it more convenient to go at Christmas." No, any other time will not do; once a year will not do, unless it be just now at this time. Christmas is a glorious feast, and Christmas-tide a joyful season, but it is not the season prescribed by the church for your annual communion; and, heathen that you are, your convenience is not the main point to be considered. The question is: has the church power from God to command me, and what does the church command? {175} Oh! then, my brethren, let not the penances, the prayers, the instructions, the special graces of this holy season go to naught and be of no avail; but rather let them lead you up to the end for which they are intended--that is, to bring you to repentance for past sins, amendment for the future, to restore you to the friendship of your God, and strengthen you, for further battling in life, with the bread of heaven, his most precious Body and Blood. ---------------------- Sermon XLIX. _He saith: I will return into my house whence I came out._ --St. Luke xi. 24. The warning which our Lord gives us in this Gospel is certainly a most terrible one, my brethren, but it may not seem plain to whom it is addressed; who they are who, now and at all times, are in danger of having the devil come back to them in this way of which he speaks. For nowadays, thank God! it is not very often that we find people who are really possessed by the devil, in the proper sense of the word. But, in a more general sense of it, there are plenty of people who are possessed by the devil. They are those who are in a state of mortal sin. In them Satan has regained the possession from which he was driven out in holy baptism--that is, the soul which was his at least by original, if not by actual, sin. And he is in them as a dumb devil, like the one which the Gospel tells us that our Lord cast out; that is, he makes the people dumb whom he possesses, by keeping them from telling their sins and getting rid of them by confession. {176} But the dumb devil is often cast out, particularly at times of special grace and help from God, like this holy season of Lent through which we are now passing, or at the time of a mission or of a jubilee. At such times you will always find people, who have been away from the sacraments for years, coming back to them and making an effort to amend their lives and save their souls. Now, this is very unpleasant to the devil, who has counted on these people as his own. He has a special liking for the souls which have been his so long. So when he is driven out of them he does not simply go off on other business, as we might expect; but he always has an eye on his old home. He says to himself, when he finds that he does not get along so well elsewhere: "I will return into my house whence I came out. I will see if I cannot get in again." So he comes back to his old house, to the soul which has been his, and too often he finds it pretty easy to get in again. He finds it, in fact, "swept and garnished," as our Lord says, and all ready for his reception. So, of course, he goes in and takes his old place. The soul, which has escaped from sin by a good confession, relapses into it again. What a pity this is! And yet how common it is! How many, how very many, there are who a month or so after a mission, or some other occasion when you would think they would really be converted in good earnest, are back again in their old sins just the same as if they had never confessed them at all! It seems strange, perhaps. And yet it is not so strange when you come to think of it. The reason is not very hard to find. It is just the one that our Lord gives: it is that the house of the soul, from which the devil has been driven, is empty, "swept and garnished." Nothing has been put there in the place of the vices and bad habits that were there before. {177} There is no habit of prayer; there is no remembrance of the good resolutions that were made at confession; there is no attempt to avoid the occasion of sin; and, above all, there is no grace coming from the sacraments. That is the great mistake these converted sinners have made. They have promised at confession to go every month for the future; but they have not kept that promise. Now, it is perfect folly and madness for one who has been in the habits of sin to hope to persevere by saying a few short prayers and going to confession once a year. Such a way of going on leaves the soul empty of grace, and without anything to prevent its enemy from coming in. If you want to persevere after a good confession, go every month to the sacraments. This is not a practice of piety; it is only common prudence. This is the means which God has appointed in his church to fill the soul with grace, and leave no room for the devil in his old home from which he has once been driven away. -------------------- {178} _Fourth Sunday of Lent._ Epistle. _Galatians iv._ 22-31. Brethren: It is written that Abraham had two sons: the one by a bond-woman, and the other by a free-woman: but he that was by the bond-woman was born according to the flesh: but he by the free-woman was by the promise. Which things are said by an allegory: for these are the two testaments: the one indeed on Mount Sina which bringeth forth unto bondage, which is Agar: for Sina is a mountain in Arabia, which hath an affinity to that which now is Jerusalem, and is in bondage with her children. But that Jerusalem which is above, is free: which is our mother. For it is written: "Rejoice, thou barren, that bearest not: break forth and cry out, thou that travailest not; for many are the children of the desolate, more than of her that hath a husband"; now we, brethren, as Isaac was, are the children of promise. But as then he, that was born according to the flesh, persecuted him that was according to the spirit: so also now. But what saith the Scripture? "Cast out the bond-woman and her son: for the son of the bond-woman shall not be heir with the son of the free-woman." Therefore, brethren, we are not the children of the bond-woman, but of the free: by the freedom wherewith Christ has made us free. Gospel. _St. John vi_. 1-15. At that time: Jesus went over the sea of Galilee, which is that of Tiberias: and a great multitude followed him, because they saw the miracles which he did on them that were infirm. And Jesus went up into a mountain, and there he sat with his disciples. Now the pasch, the festival day of the Jews, was near at hand. {179} When Jesus therefore had lifted up his eyes, and seen that a very great multitude cometh to him, he said to Philip: Whence shall we buy bread that these may eat? And this he said to try him, for he himself knew what he would do. Philip answered him: Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one may take a little. One of his disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, saith to him: There is a boy here that hath five barley loaves, and two fishes; but what are these among so many? Then Jesus said: Make the men sit down. Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, in number about five thousand. And Jesus took the loaves: and when he had given thanks he distributed to them that were sat down. In like manner also of the fishes as much as they would. And when they were filled, he said to his disciples: Gather up the fragments that remain, lest they be lost. So they gathered up, and filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves, which remained over and above to them that had eaten. Then those men, when they had seen what a miracle Jesus had done, said: This is the prophet indeed that is to come into the world. When Jesus therefore perceived that they would come and take him by force and make him king, he fled again into the mountain himself alone. --------------------- Sermon L. _When, therefore, Jesus had lifted up his eyes and seen that a very great multitude cometh to him, he said to Philip: "Whence shall we buy bread that these may eat?"_ --St. John vi. 5. To-day is mid-Lent Sunday, dear brethren. Half of the holy season has passed away, and the Pasch is near at hand. All through Lent the church has been praying, fasting, and preaching, making extra efforts to bring in the sinners who have so long stayed without the fold. {180} Like the Divine Master, she looks down upon the crowd and she has pity on them. She wants to heal the sick; they will not be healed. She wants to feed the hungry; they will not be fed. The church looks round upon the vast crowd of her children and wants them to make their Easter duty; alas! how many neglect it. Why should you make the Easter duty? First, because it is a strict law of the church. If you fail to make it by your own fault you commit a grievous mortal sin and put yourself in a position to be excommunicated from God's church. Secondly, for your own spiritual good. What kind of a Christian can he be who does not go to confession or communion at least once in a year? How shall you make it? First go to confession, and then, when you have received absolution, go to communion. That is all simple and plain enough. Why, then, do some people stay away from their Easter duty? Let us tell the truth. Confession must come first, and confession is the difficulty. A man has been engaged for years in an unlawful business, or he has stolen a sum of money, or he has been the receiver of stolen goods, or in some way or other cheated in trade. Such a man is a thief. He knows it, and he is also aware that if he goes to confession the priest will say: "Give up the ill-gotten money, sell your fine house and your gilded furniture, and make restitution; you must restore or you will damn your soul." They won't do that, won't give up the dishonest gains, and so they won't make the Easter duty. Or there are some who have committed sins of impurity; they have been unfaithful husbands, dissolute wives. {181} They won't give up their bad habits or won't tell their shameful sins, and so they won't make the Easter duty. There are others on whom the fiend of drunkenness has settled; they are always on a spree, always pouring the liquor which stupefies them down their throats; they won't repent and they won't make the Easter duty. Ah! then, if there be any such sinners here--if there be any thieves, if there be any who are living upon dishonest gains, if there be any who are wallowing in impurity and drunkenness--tell me, how long is this going to last? How many more years will you slink away from your Easter duty like cowards and cravens? Will you go on so to the end of your lives? Oh! then you will go down to hell, and your blood be upon your own heads. No one stays away from Easter duty except for disgraceful reasons. There is always something bad behind that fear of the confessional, and such a man deserves to be pointed at by every honorable Catholic. Suppose you _have stolen_, or been an adulterer, or a fornicator, or a drunkard, or what not. Now is the time to repent, and amend, and make reparation. Don't you see the church looking down with eyes of mercy upon you? Why, then, stay? There can be only one reason, and that reason is because you want to go on being thieves, adulterers, and drunkards. O brethren! do not, I pray you, so wickedly. The church is kind. The blood of Christ is still flowing. The confessionals are still open. Go in there with your heavy sins and your black secrets. Go in there with your long story of sin. Go in, even if your hands are red with blood--go in, I say, and if you are truly penitent you will be cleansed and consoled. Let there not be a single man or woman in this church who can have it said of them this year: "You missed your Easter duty." {182} And you that have been away for years and years, don't add another sin to your already long list of crimes. You are sick, you are fainting with hunger, you are a poor wandering sheep; but never mind, remember Jesus looks with pity upon you, and he will heal your sickness in the sacrament of penance, and feed you with his own Body and Blood. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------- Sermon LI. _Gather up the fragments that remain, lest they he lost._ --St. John vi. 12. It seems rather odd, does it not, my brethren, that our Divine Lord should have been so particular about saving all the broken bits of those loaves and fishes? He had just worked a wonderful miracle, and he could have repeated it the next day without any difficulty. When he or his apostles or the crowd who came to hear him were hungry, he had nothing to do but to say the word, and they could all have as much to eat as they wanted. Why, then, be so particular about hunting up all the crusts of bread and bits of fish that were lying round in the grass? Perhaps you will say: "It was to show what a great miracle he had worked; to show that, in spite of their all having dined heartily, there were twelve basketfuls of scraps left over--much more than they had to start with." I do not think that was it. The greatness of the miracle in feeding five thousand men on five loaves and two fishes was plain enough. At any rate, that was not the reason that he himself gave. {183} He said: "Gather them up, _lest they be lost_." "Well, then," a prudent housekeeper would say, "the reason is plain enough. It was to teach us economy--not to let anything go to waste; to save the scraps, and make them up into bread-puddings and fish-balls." I know you do not think that was it. Most people who are not forced to this kind of economy are apt to turn up their noses at it, and connect it in their minds with a stingy disposition, which they very rightly think is not pleasing to God. But, after all, I don't see what it could very well have been but economy that our Lord meant to teach. I don't see what other meaning you can get out of his command to gather up the fragments, that they might not be lost. If that does not mean economy, what does it mean? No, my brethren, economy, or a saving spirit, is not such a contemptible thing when rightly understood. There may be stinginess with it, but stinginess is not a part of it. Economy, rightly understood, is setting a proper value on the gifts of God. Yes; what comes from him--and everything does--is too valuable to be thrown away. To despise his gifts is very much like despising him. And besides, there is not, in fact, an unlimited supply of them, though there might be. He might have fed his followers in that miraculous way every day; but he only did so twice in his life. Our Lord, then, did mean, I think, to set us an example of economy. Practise it as he did, my brethren. Prize God's gifts, whatever they may be; do not waste them. But especially his spiritual gifts; for they are infinitely more precious than the material ones. Don't count on having a future extraordinary supply of them. {184} You have got enough to save your souls now, and to sanctify them, if you will only make use of it. You have got the faith, the sacraments, and the word of God. You don't need to have any one rise from the dead to convert you. Our Lord tells us that a certain rich man who was in hell wanted to go back to earth and appear to his brothers, that they might take warning by his example. He was told that it was not necessary; that they had Moses and the prophets. Well, you have got a great deal more. You know just as well what you must do to save your souls, and even to become saints, as if you had been beyond the grave yourselves. Don't expect more yet. Save up your spiritual gifts, my brethren; you have got plenty now, but you do not know how much more you will get. When God gives you any grace make the most of it; perhaps it will be the last you will have. Bring back to your minds what you have heard, and the good thoughts and purposes which the Holy Ghost has given you; serve up the spiritual feasts you have had, not only a second time, but over and over again. Make what you have got go as far as possible, and your souls will grow stout and strong. Wait for unusual graces like a mission or a jubilee, and they will be thin and weak all the time. Be economical, especially in spiritual things; that is a very important lesson of the Gospel of to-day. ---------------- {185} _Passion Sunday_. Epistle. _Hebrews ix_. 11-15. Brethren: Christ being come a high-priest of the good things to come, by a greater and more perfect tabernacle not made with hands, that is, not of this creation: neither by the blood of goats, nor of calves, but by his own blood, entered once into the Holies, having obtained eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and of oxen, and the ashes of a heifer being sprinkled, sanctify such as are defiled, to the cleansing of the flesh: how much more shall the blood of Christ, who by the Holy Ghost offered himself unspotted unto God, cleanse our conscience from dead works, to serve the living God? And therefore he is the mediator of the new testament: that by means of his death, for the redemption of those transgressions, which were under the former testament, they that are called may receive the promise of eternal inheritance in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. John viii_. 46-59. At that time: Jesus said to the multitude of the Jews: Which of you shall convince me of sin? If I say the truth to you, why do you not believe me? He that is of God, heareth the words of God. Therefore you hear them not, because you are not of God. The Jews, therefore, answered and said to him: Do not we say well that thou art a Samaritan, and hast a devil? Jesus answered: I have not a devil; but I honor my Father, and you have dishonored me. But I seek not my own glory: there is one that seeketh and judgeth. Amen, amen, I say to you: if any man keep my word, he shall not see death for ever. The Jews therefore said: Now we know that thou hast a devil. {186} Abraham is dead, and the prophets; and thou sayest: If any man keep my word, he shall not taste death for ever. Are thou greater than our father Abraham, who is dead? And the prophets are dead. Whom dost thou make thyself? Jesus answered: If I glorify myself, my glory is nothing. It is my Father that glorifieth me, of whom you say that he is your God. And you have not known him, but I know him. And if I shall say that I know him not, I shall be like to you, a liar. But I do know him, and do keep his word. Abraham your father rejoiced that he might see my day: he saw it, and was glad. The Jews therefore said to him: Thou art not yet fifty years old, and hast thou seen Abraham? Jesus said to them: Amen, amen, I say to you, before Abraham was made, I am. They took up stones therefore to cast at him. But Jesus hid himself, and went out of the temple. ----------------------- Sermon LII. _But Jesus hid himself_. --St. John viii. 59. Thick and fast, dear brethren, the shadows of the Great Week begin to fall upon us. Only a few more days and it will be Palm Sunday, the first day of Holy Week. To-day we are left, as it were, alone. The crucifix, with its figure of the dead, white Christ, is veiled; the dear, familiar faces of the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph are veiled also; and even the saints before whom we were wont to kneel are all hidden behind the purple veil of Passion-tide. Not till Good Friday will Jesus look upon us again, not till Holy Saturday will the Blessed Virgin, St. Joseph, and the saints once more come forth to our view. We are, then, alone by ourselves. God wants us to stand up before him just as we are. Jesus has hidden his face for a while. {187} The crucifix has bidden you good-by. In what state were you last night when devout hands veiled the figure of Christ? Will you ever look upon the old, familiar crucifix again? It may be, before the purple veil is lifted from this cross, you will have looked upon the face of Christ in judgment. O brethren! to-day the face of Jesus is hidden. May be the last time you looked upon it you were in mortal sin, and are so still. When and how shall you look upon it again? If you live till Good Friday you will see it then held aloft by the priest, and afterwards kissed by all the faithful. If you die before then, and die, as you may, without warning or preparation, then you will look upon the face of Christ upon the judgment seat, then you will hear the awful words: "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire." Or perhaps--and may God grant it!--you will next see the face of Jesus in the person of his priest in the confessional, and there it will be turned upon you in mercy and forgiveness. There are some of you, I know, who are as _dead men_. There are some of you who, even up to this late hour, are holding out against grace. Still in mortal sin! I point you to the veiled Christ. I ask you, here in the sacred presence of God, I ask you in the most solemn manner, when and how will you look upon his face again? He has bidden you good-by to-day, he has said farewell, and as he said it he saw that you were a blasphemer, a drunkard, an adulterer, a slanderer, a creature full of pride, full of sloth, full of all kinds of sin. Oh! say, shall he still find you so when he returns? Say, when he is uncovered on Good Friday can you, dare you add to his grief by still being what you are now? And to us all, even the most devout, this lesson of the veiled crucifix ought not to pass unheeded. {188} Christ has gone from us to-day! How will he come back to us? All torn and bloody, all thorn-scarred, all spear-pierced, nailed to the cross, and all for love of us! We, too, brethren, who are trying to walk strictly in the narrow path--we, too, may ask ourselves. When and how shall we see him again? Perhaps before Good Friday, ay, perhaps even before our hands can grasp the green palm-branch of next Sunday, we may see the unveiled face of our Beloved. Are we afraid of that? Oh! no. We have loved the face of suffering too well to dread the face of glory. We only expect to hear from his lips words of love and welcome. Brethren, there is a day coming when all veils shall be lifted. There is a time nearing us when all must look upon the face that died on Calvary's Mount. On that day and at that time will take place the great unveiling of the face of Christ: I mean the day of general judgment. O solemn, O awful thought for us to-day before the veiled image of our Lord! May be the judgment day will come before that light veil is lifted from the well-known crucifix. Great God! our next Good Friday may be spent either in heaven or in hell. Go home, brethren, with these thoughts fixed deeply in your hearts. Come here often to pray. If you have sins come here and confess them; and often and often as we turn to the veiled Christ, let us most devoutly cry: "Jesus, when and how shall we look upon thy face again?" Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------------ Sermon LIII. Under the false accusations of the Jews how calm and self-possessed our Lord remains! {189} He does not return passion for passion, anger for anger, accusations for accusations, violence for violence; but he meets calumny with the assertion of truth, and confounds his enemies by humility and meekness. They accuse him of sin; with the sublime simplicity of a pure conscience he dares them to convince him of sin. They call him names: "Thou art a Samaritan"; to so evident a falsehood he deigns no reply. Blinded by anger, they accuse him of being possessed: "Thou hast a devil"; a simple denial, "I have not a devil," the leaving of his own glory to his Father, the assertion of his divine mission, is the answer to the blasphemous calumny. "Now we know thou hast a devil," repeat they, waxing more passionate; but, unimpassioned, Jesus rises above their rage to the calm heights of the Godhead, and affirms his eternal generation. Finally, losing all control of themselves, they take up stones to cast at him; but he quietly goes out of the temple and hides himself, for his hour--the hour when he would bear in silence the accusations and indignities of man, and allow himself to be led to slaughter--had not yet come. In this our Saviour teaches us how we should behave when the passions of others fall upon us and we are made the butt of accusations, just or unjust. In such circumstances what is generally your conduct? By no means Christian, I am afraid, but very worldly; for the world counts it true valor and justice to give tit for tat, to take tooth for tooth and eye for eye. Do you not give back as good--and often worse--than you get? Prudence, let alone Christianity, should dictate to you quite another conduct. {190} Your counter-accusations do but strengthen and confirm the calumny; they allow it to stand, "You're another" and "you're no better" are poor arguments to clear yourselves. It's a flank movement that does not cover your position, a feint that does not save you from attack. The answering of a question by asking another question is a smart trick, but no answer. A calm denial, if you could make it, or dignified silence would do the work more surely and thoroughly. And so the fight of words goes on in true Billingsgate style; to and fro they fly thick and hot, hotter and hotter as passion rises on both sides. "One word brings on another," until white heat is reached and all control of temper lost. Then, as the Jews ended with stones, so you perhaps come to more serious passion than mere words. The result is quarrels, deadly feuds, bodily injuries, and worse, may be--bloodshed and the jail. A cow kicked a lantern in a stable, and Chicago was on fire for days. Some frivolous accusation that you pick up, while you should let it fall, starts within you a fire of anger that makes a ruin of your whole spiritual life and throws disorder all around you; families are divided; wife and husband sulk, quarrel, live a "cat and dog" life; friends are separated, connections broken. Peace flies from your homes, your social surroundings, your own hearts; the very horrors of hell are around you. Christian charity has been wounded to death, and the slightest of blows, the lightest of shafts has done it. All for the want of a little patience and self-possession! How often we hear it said: "Oh! I have such a bad temper; I'm easily riz, God forgive me! I've a bad passion entirely." Well, my dear brethren, learn from this Gospel how you should control yourselves, how you should possess your souls in patience. {191} One-half the sins of the world would be done away with, if only the lesson of this Gospel were laid to heart and put into practice. What is the lesson? Firstly, never seek self-praise in self-justification. Jesus turns aside the calumny of the Jews, but leaves the glorifying of himself in the hands of his Father, "who seeketh and judgeth." Secondly, pay no attention to accusations that are absurd, evidently untrue, and frivolous. When Jesus is called names and is made out to be what every one knows he was not--"a Samaritan"--he makes no answer. Thirdly, if serious calumny, calculated to injure your usefulness in your duties and state of life, assail you, it then becomes your right, and sometimes your duty, to repel the calumny, as Jesus did when he was accused of "having a devil." But in this case your self-justification, like that of our Saviour, should ever be calm, dignified, and Christian. It should be a defence, never an attack. The true Christian parries, he does not give the thrust; he shields himself from the arrows of malice, he does not shoot them back. Superior to revenge, he pities enemies for the evil they do; he forgives them and prays for them, as our Lord has commanded. This is Christian charity, and Christian humility as well. But as it avails little to know what we should do, if we have not God's grace to enable us to do it, let us often say, especially in temptations to impatience: "O Jesus, meek and humble of heart! make me like unto thee." ---------------------------- {192} Sermon LIV. Why is to-day called Passion Sunday, my brethren? There does not seem to be any special commemoration of our Lord's sacred Passion in the Mass, as there is next Sunday, when the long account of it from St. Matthew's Gospel is read; and most people, I think, hardly realize that to-day is anything more than any other Sunday in Lent. But if you look into the matter a little more you will notice a great change which comes upon the spirit of the church to-day, and remains during the two following weeks. The Preface of the Mass is not that of Lent, but that of the Cross; the hymns sung at Vespers and at other times are about the cross and our Lord's death upon it; and all the way through the Divine Office you will see evident signs that the church is thinking about this mystery of the cross, the commemoration of which is consummated on Good Friday. And if you look about the church this morning you will see the pictures all veiled, to tell us that during these two weeks we should think principally of our Lord's suffering and humiliation; that we should, as it were, for a while forget his saints and everything else connected with his glory. And even the cross itself is concealed, for it is after all a sign of triumph and victory to our eyes; it is waiting to be revealed till Good Friday, when the sacrifice shall be accomplished and the victory won. To-day, then, is called Passion Sunday because it is the opening of this short period, from now till Easter, which the church calls Passion-time. {193} What practical meaning has this Passion-time for us, my brethren? It means, or should mean, for us sorrow, humiliation, sharing in the Passion of our Lord. Lent, all the way through, is a time of penance; but more especially so is this short season which brings it to a close. Now, surely, is the time, if ever, when we are going to be sorry for our sins, when we cannot help thinking of what they have made our Divine Saviour suffer. Now is the time to think of the malice and ingratitude of sin; to see it as it really is, as the one thing which has turned this earth from a paradise into a place of suffering and sorrow; to see our own sins as they truly are, as the only real evils which have ever happened to us, and to resolve to be rid of them for our own sake and for God's sake; for he has suffered for them as well as we. Now is the time to go to confession, and to make a better confession than we have ever made before, or ever can make, probably, till Passion-time comes round again. For now is it easier for us to be sorry for our sins, not only because we have everything to show us how hateful they are, but also because God's grace is more liberally given. He has sanctified this time and blessed it for our repentance and conversion. He calls us and helps us always to penance, but never so much as now. Hear his voice, then, my brethren, and, in the words with which the church begins her office today: "To-day if you shall hear his voice, harden not your hearts." Do not obstinately remain in sin, and put off your repentance and confession to a more favorable time. There is no time nearly as good as this; this is the time which God himself has appointed. {194} You must make your Easter duty, if you would not add another terrible sin to the many which you have already made our Lord bear for you; make it now before Easter comes. Take your share now in the Passion, that you may have your share of the Easter joy. And there is another reason why you should come now to confession; for there is another unusual grace which God now offers you--the grace of the Jubilee, which you heard announced last Sunday. Now, a Jubilee is not a mere devotion for those who frequent the sacraments; it is a call and an opportunity for those who have neglected them. I beg you not to let it be said that you have allowed this opportunity to go by. Come and give us some work to do in the confessional; the more the better. We will not complain, but will thank you from the bottom of our hearts. The best offering you can make to your priests, as well as to the God whose servants they are, is a crowded confessional and a full altar-rail at this holy Passion-time. ------------------- {195} _Palm Sunday._ Epistle. _Philippians ii._ 5-11. Brethren: Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery himself to be equal with God: but debased himself, taking the form of a servant, being made to the likeness of men, and in shape found as a man. He humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath exalted him, and hath given him a name which is above every name: that in the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those that are in heaven, on earth, and in hell. And that every tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of God the Father. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxvii._ 62-66. And the next day, which followed the day of preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees came together to Pilate, saying: Sir, we have remembered that that seducer said, while he was yet alive: After three days I will rise again. Command therefore the sepulchre to be guarded until the third day: lest his disciples come and steal him away, and say to the people, He is risen from the dead: so the last error shall be worse than the first. Pilate said to them: You have a guard; go, guard it as you know. And they departing, made the sepulchre sure with guards, sealing the stone. ----------------------------- {196} Sermon LV. _Behold thy King cometh to thee meek._ --St. Matthew xxi. 5. Through humility and suffering to exaltation and glory--that is the way our Lord went to heaven, dear brethren, and that is the way we must go if we wish to follow him. To-day is Palm Sunday, the day on which our Lord rode in triumph to begin his Passion. Yes, in triumph; but what an humble one! He rode upon a lowly beast; there were no rich carpets spread along the way, only the poor and well-worn garments of the apostles and of the multitude thrown together with the boughs and branches torn from the wayside trees. All was humble, and doubly so if we think that he was riding to his death. Yes, brethren, those palm-branches were scarce withered, the dust had hardly been shaken from those garments, when the cross was laid upon his shoulders and the thorny crown pressed upon his brow. Dear brethren, let us ask ourselves this morning if we want to go to heaven. Do we want to be where Jesus is now, and where he will be for all eternity? If we do we must follow him through suffering and humility to exaltation and glory. We must be content with little and short happiness in this world; for, as I have said, the triumph of Palm Sunday was short-lived indeed. What followed? Jesus was brought before Pilate. He was condemned to death, forsaken, set at naught, buffeted, mocked, spit upon. He, the innocent Lamb of God, was scourged, stripped of his garments, crowned with thorns. Then upon his poor, torn shoulders was laid a heavy cross, which he carried till he could no longer bear it. And, lastly, outside the city gates they nailed him to that same cross, and he died. But after that came the glory and the triumph--the glory of the resurrection; the triumph over sin, and death, and hell. {197} Brethren, we needs _must_ think of heaven to-day; the waving palms, the chanted hosannas, all speak to us of that delightful place. We cannot help thinking of that great multitude, clad in white robes and with palms in their hands, of whom St. John speaks, and of those others who cast down their golden crowns before the glassy sea. We want to reach that blessed place; we want to hear the sound of the harpers harping upon their harps; we want to hear the angels' songs and see the flashing of their golden wings; we want to gaze upon Jesus and Mary and all the heavenly host. But, brethren, not yet, not yet. See the long path strewn with stones and briers; see that steep mount with its cross of crucifixion at the top. That way must be trodden, that mountain scaled, that cross be nailed to us and we to it, or ever we may hear the golden harps or the angels' song. Through humility and suffering to exaltation and glory. Oh! let us learn the lesson well this Holy Week. Let us learn it to-day as we follow Jesus to prison and to death; let us learn it on Holy Thursday when we see him humble himself to the form of bread and wine; let us learn it on Good Friday when we kiss his sacred feet pierced with the nails. Yes, let us learn the lesson and never forget it. Heaven has been bought for you. Heaven lies open to you: but there is only one way there, and that way is the way of suffering. So, then, brethren, when your trials come thick and fast; when your temptations seem more than you can endure; when you are pinched by poverty, slighted by your neighbors, forsaken--as it seems to you--even by God himself, then remember the way of the cross. Remember the agony in the garden; remember the mount of Calvary. {198} Grasp the palm firmly in your hand to-day; let it be in fancy the wood of the cross. Cry aloud as you journey on: "Through humility and suffering to exaltation and glory." Keep close to Jesus. Onward to prison! Onward to crucifixion! Onward to death! Onward to what comes afterwards! Resurrection! Reward! Peace! Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------ Sermon LVI. _He humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross._ --Philippians ii. 8. We are entering to-day, my dear brethren, on the great week, the Holy Week, as it is called, of the Christian year--the week in which we commemorate the Passion and death of our Lord; and at this time our minds cannot, when we assist at the offices of the church, be occupied with any other thoughts than those which are suggested by his sufferings for our redemption. And surely there is enough to occupy them not only for one short week, but for all our lives. The Passion of Christ is a mystery which we can never exhaust, in this world or in the world to come. It is the book of the saints, and there is no lesson of perfection which we cannot learn from it. So we must needs look at it to-day only in part, and learn one of its many lessons; and let that be one suggested to us by the words of the text, taken from the Epistle read at the Mass: "He humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." {199} What is this lesson? It is that of humility, which is the foundation of all supernatural virtues, and yet the last one which most Christians try to acquire. In fact, it would seem that many people, who are very good in their way, are rather annoyed than edified by the examples of humility that they find in the lives of the saints. It seems to them like hypocrisy when they read that the saints considered themselves the greatest sinners in the world. But it was not hypocrisy; they said what they really felt. They were not in the habit, as most people are, of noticing their neighbors' faults and making the most of them, and of excusing their own. So, though it was not really true that they were such great sinners when compared with others, it seemed to them that it was. And, moreover, they were willing that others should think them so. In that they differed very much from some whom you would think were saints. The real saints are willing to bear contempt; they are willing to be considered sinners, even in their best actions, as long as God's glory is not in question; and, what is really harder, though it ought not to be, they are willing to be considered fools. Almost any one would rather be thought a knave than a fool. There are very few good people who like to be told of their faults; there are fewer still who like to be told of their blunders. Now, it is with regard to this matter that we need specially to think of our Saviour's example. He, who could not be deceived, could not believe himself to be a knave or a fool; but he consented that others should consider him so, to set us an example of humility. {200} He was reckoned among sinners in his life as well as in his death; and he hid the treasures of his divine wisdom and knowledge under the appearance of a poor, simple man of the lower classes. But it was in his sacred Passion that his humility is seen most plainly; he became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross; he, our Lord and our God, suffered the most disgraceful punishment that has ever been devised for common criminals. There is the example, then, my brethren, for us poor sinners to follow. And the humility which we need most is nothing but the pure and simple truth. It is nothing but getting rid of the absurd notion that we are wiser and better than other people whom anybody else can see are our equals or superiors; for, strangely enough, it is always hardest to be humble when it is most clear that we ought to be. And depend on it, it is high time to set about acquiring this virtue; for, simple as it seems, to get even as much as this of it will take, for most of us, all our lives. ----------------- Sermon LVII. I will say a few words to you this morning, my brethren, on the Jubilee just proclaimed by our Holy Father. What is a Jubilee? It is the proclamation of a great spiritual favor which may be obtained by any Catholic in the world during a specified time. {201} This spiritual favor is a special plenary indulgence which, if gained in a way that perfectly fulfils all the conditions and completely satisfies the intentions of the church, will surely wipe out not only all the actual sins one has committed in all his life before, but take away also all the temporal punishment one would have to undergo in this life or in purgatory on account of those sins, be they great or small. No wonder that all the children of the Catholic Church rejoice to hear such a favor proclaimed by their Holy Father, and that everybody is so anxious to partake of its benefits. What is to be done? Just what the Pope says, and in a way specially directed for his diocesans by each bishop. There are visits to be made to certain churches, and prayers to be said there. There is a fast to be observed on one day. There are alms to be given. There is confession to be made and Holy Communion to be received. And all to be done by or before next Pentecost Sunday. First. The visits. For this city there are three churches named by His Eminence the Cardinal--viz., St. Patrick's Cathedral, St. Stephen's, and the Church of the Epiphany. Each one of these three churches must be visited twice. All the visits may be made in one day or on different days, and one may, if he pleases, pay the two visits to the same church at once before going to another. Second. Prayers are to be said in the churches; and they ought, of course, to be devout ones, and offered for all the intentions laid down by the Holy Father. No particular prayers are prescribed. One can hear Mass, or say the beads, or say five times the Our Father and Hail Mary, or one of the Litanies; or any of these prayers will do. {202} Third. The fast. This may be in Lent or after, on any day that meat is allowed. But on the day you choose for the fast you must also abstain from meat. Fourth. The alms. The amount or kind is not prescribed, but is left to your own generosity. It may be in money, in food, or in clothing, and it may be given to an orphan asylum or other such charitable institution, or to build a church. It may be given when making the visits; and special alms-boxes will be found in those churches to be visited, into which the offering can be put. Fifth. Confession and Communion; and both ought to be prepared for and made the very best one can. Moreover, as one gains the more merit by doing actions in a state of grace, one will likely make the Jubilee better if he begins by making a good confession. Now is the time for great sinners to return to God and obtain his merciful forgiveness; for the Pope has given special privileges to confessors, in order that they may absolve the hardest kind of cases. Let no one, therefore, despair, nor think himself too hard a case. That is what the Jubilee is for--to bring down the mercy and forgiveness of God upon this sinful generation. To ensure this the father of the faithful sets the whole Catholic world together praying, and fasting, and giving alms, and confessing their sins, and making holy, devout communion, so as to take heaven by storm, as our Lord said we might. "For the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away." What a sublime spectacle, which only the Catholic Church can show--two hundred and fifty millions of people all turning to God at once! No wonder the Catholic Church saves the world. {203} Look out that you are not found, in eternity, to be one of those whom she failed to turn to God, and lost for ever because you would not hear her instruction and counsel, nor be guided by her into the way of eternal life. ---------------- {204} _Easter Sunday._ Epistle. I _Corinthians v_, 7, 8. Brethren: Purge out the old leaven, that you may be a new mass, as you are unleavened. For Christ, our pasch, is sacrificed. Therefore let us feast, not with the old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth. Gospel. _St. Mark xvi._ 1-7. At that time: Mary Magdalen, and Mary the mother of James and Salome, bought sweet spices, that coming they might anoint Jesus. And very early in the morning, the first day of the week, they come to the sepulchre, the sun being now risen. And they said one to another: Who shall roll us back the stone from the door of the sepulchre? And looking, they saw the stone rolled back, for it was very great. And entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed with a white robe: and they were astonished. And he said to them: Be not affrighted; ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified: he is risen, he is not here; behold the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he goeth before you into Galilee; there you shall see him as he told you. ----------------------- Sermon LVIII. _Mary Magdalen._ --St. Mark xvi. 1. Dear brethren, you have all felt the great contrast that there is between the awful rites of Good Friday and the joy of to-day. {205} Still fresh in your minds is the memory of the darkened church, the uplifted crucifix, the wailing of the reproaches. You remember, too, "the silence that might be felt" that reigned in God's temple on Holy Saturday. You can recall how still the church seemed yesterday at early morning, just as if some awful deed had been done there the day before; you may remember how unspeakably solemn seemed the silent procession to the porch to bless the new fire; how quiet and subdued all that followed. But suddenly a voice rang out into the darkness--the voice of the sacrificing priest at the altar; an "exceeding great cry" pierced the stillness, and instantly every veil fell; the sunlight streamed in through every window; chiming bells, pealing organ, and choral voices burst upon your senses; everything seemed to say, "He is risen! he is risen!" And we felt it was almost too much, almost more than the feeble human heart could bear and not break for very joy. If, then, this contrast is so marked and this joy so great after a lapse of eighteen hundred years and more, oh! what must have been the joy of the first Easter day. The first crucifix bore no ivory or metal figure; it had nailed to it the flesh of the Son of God. The first Good Friday was no commemoration of an event; it was the event itself. Oh! then how great, how great beyond mind to imagine or tongue to tell, must have been the joy of the first Easter. Jesus had died, left all his beloved. He had been buried, and there he rested in the quiet garden. Very early in the morning come Mary Magdalen and the other women to the tomb. The sun was just rising; the flowers of that blessed garden were just awaking; the dew-drops sparkled like rubies in the red sunrise; the vines and the creepers, fresh with their morning sweetness, hung clustering round the sacred tomb. {206} To that spot the women hasten; the sun rises; she, Mary Magdalen, stoops down; her Lord is not there, but lo! the great stone is rolled away; a bright angel sits thereon; other angelic spirits are in the tomb. The angel speaks: "He is risen; he is not here. Behold, he goes before you to Galilee. Alleluia! alleluia!" The Lord is risen indeed. And now, brethren, wishing you every joy that this holy feast can bring, I will ask the question. Where or of whom shall we learn our Easter lesson? We will learn it from her whose name, whose lovely, saintly name, forms the text of this discourse. In pointing you to Mary Magdalen, the great saint of the Resurrection, I do but follow the mind of the church; for in today's sequence the whole universal church calls upon her, "_Die nobis, Maria, quid vidistis in via?_"--Declare to us, Mary! what sawest thou in the way? She saw the sepulchre of Christ, in which were buried her many sins. In the way, the sorrowful way of the cross, she saw the Passion of Christ; in the way, the glorious way of the triumph of Christ, she saw the glory of the Risen One and the angel witnesses. Oh! is not our lesson plain? Like Magdalen, let us see the sepulchre, and let us cast our sins in there. Let us see the way of the cross and walk therein; let us see the glory of the Risen One and the angel witnesses in the heavenly kingdom. O poor, repentant sinners! you who during Lent have kissed the feet of Jesus and stood beneath his cross in the confessional, what a day of joy, what a lesson of consolation comes to you! Who was it upon whom fell the first ray of Resurrection glory? {207} Who is it upon whom the great voice of the church liturgy, in the Holy Sacrifice, calls to-day? Ah! it was and is upon the "sometime sinner, Mary." Joy! joy! for the forgiven sinner to-day. Alleluia! alleluia! to you, blood-washed children of Jesus Christ; for she who saw the Master first was once a sinner--a sinner like unto you. Alleluia, and joy and peace, unto you all in Jesus' name, and in the name of the redeemed and pardoned Mary! Alleluia, and joy and peace! whether you be sinner as she was, or saint as she became. Alleluia, and joy and peace! for "Christ our hope hath risen, and he shall go before us into Galilee." Alleluia, and joy and peace! for we know that Christ hath risen from the dead. Lord, we know that we are feeble and sinful, but lead, "Conquering King," lead on; go thou before to the heavenly Galilee. Time was when we feared to follow; but she, "more than martyr and more than virgin"--she, Mary Magdalen, is in thy train, and, penitent like her, we follow thee. Alleluia, and joy and peace, to young and old! Alleluia, and joy and peace, to saint and pardoned sinner! for Christ hath risen from the dead. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------ Sermon LIX. _He is risen._ --St. Mark xvi. 6. This is Easter Sunday, and the heart of every Christian is full of joy; for on this day the voice of God is heard assuring us that the dead can and will rise again to enter upon a new and never-dying life. To die is to suffer the most poignant grief, the greatest loss, the most grievous pain that man is called upon to endure. {208} However long or sweet may be the pleasure of the draught of life, and health, and prosperity that one may drink, all must find this one bitter drop at the bottom of the cup. It is death; and if God himself did not tell us, how could we know but that it is the end of all? "But now Christ is risen from the dead and become the first fruits of them that sleep." Who says Christ is risen again? God. How do we hear his voice of truth, which cannot deceive nor be deceived? We hear him when we hear the voice of his divine church, which he has made "the pillar and the ground of the truth." This is, then, her joyful and triumphant news to-day. All who die shall rise again from the dead, because our Saviour, Jesus Christ, first of all rose from the dead, and promised that the change of a similar resurrection should come upon all mankind. And I say again that we know that to be true because the Catholic Church, the only divine voice there is in the world, assures us that it is true. Bitter as death may be, the hope of the resurrection is its complete antidote. Now I understand why the words, "a happy death," is so common a speech among Catholics. It implies an act of faith in the resurrection, and a confidence that he who dies has not only prepared himself to die but also to rise again. This is an important reflection to make on Easter Sunday, for there is a resurrection unto eternal life and a resurrection unto damnation, which, compared to eternal life, is eternal death. A philosopher said: "Happy is that man who, when he comes to die, has nothing left but to die." But the Christian says: "Happy is that man who, when he comes to die, leaves the world and all he has to do or might do in it, sure of a happy and glorious resurrection." {209} All Catholics believe that they will rise again from the dead, but I am free to say that many of them do not prove their faith by their works. They seem to think so much of this world, and give so much of their thoughts and words and actions to it, that certainly no heathen would imagine for a moment that they thought even death possible, or that there was any future state to get ready for. I wonder how any one of us would act or what we would be thinking about, if we were absolutely sure that in less than an hour's notice we would some day be called to be made a bishop or a pope, or a king or queen; or would be carried off to a desert island, and left there to starve and die without help. We do not believe either fortune likely to happen to any of us, therefore we do not prepare for it. Alas! so many Catholics do not prepare for the sudden call to rise to a glory and dignity far higher than that of any prelate or prince, or to sink to a miserable state infinitely worse than to starve and die on a desert island; and why not? I say the heathen would answer, because they do not believe that either fortune will be likely to happen to them. If they did their lives would prove their faith. Now, I know I have set some of you thinking, and that has just been my purpose. Have I a right to participate in the Easter joy of to-day, or am I only making an outside show of it, while my conscience tells me I am a hypocrite? Have I kept the commandments of God and of the church? Have I made my Easter duty, or resolved to make it? {210} What kind of a life would I rise to on the day of resurrection, if I died to-night? What would Jesus Christ, my Judge and Saviour, find in me that looked like him, and therefore ought to give me the same glorious resurrection as he had? Dear brethren, that is what he wants to find in us all. That is what he died to give us. That is what the Holy Spirit is striving hard to help every one of us to obtain. Come, a little more courage, and let us rise _now_ from all that is deathly, or dead, or corrupt, or rotten in this life we are leading, and Jesus will be sure to find in us what will fashion us unto the likeness of his own resplendent and divine resurrection to eternal life. ------------------- Sermon LX. _Christ, our pasch, is sacrificed. Therefore let us feast, not with the old leaven nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth._ --1 Corinthians v, 7, 8. There are none of us, my dear brethren, I am sure, who can fail on this Easter morning to have something of the spirit of joy which fills the church at this time, and which runs through all her offices at this season. "This is the day that the Lord hath made," she is continually saying to us; "let us rejoice and be glad in it." Yes, we are all glad now; we all have something of the Easter spirit, in spite of the troubles and sorrows which are perhaps weighing on us, and from which we shall never be quite free till we celebrate Easter in heaven--in that blessed country where death shall be no more, nor mourning, nor crying, nor sorrow shall be any more; where God shall dwell with us, and he himself with us shall be our God. {211} But what is the cause of our joy? Is it merely that the season of penance through which we have just passed is over, that the church no longer commands us to fast and mortify ourselves? That may, indeed, be one reason, for there are certainly not a great many people who enjoy fasting and abstinence; but there should be another and a much better one. It should be that Lent has not left us just where it found us; that we can say to-day not only that Christ has risen, but that we also have risen with him. Yes, my brethren, that is the joy that you ought to be feeling at this time. What is Easter, or Christmas, or any other feast of the church worth without the grace of God? It is no more than any secular holiday; merely a time for amusement, for sensual indulgence, and too often an occasion of sin. If you are happy to-day with any happiness that is really worth having, it is then because you have the grace of God in your souls, either by constant habits of virtue, or by a good confession and communion which you have made to-day or lately. It is now, as at the last day, only to those who are really and truly the friends of Christ that he can say: "Well done, good and faithful servant: ... enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." For this is the day, the great day of his joy; and it is only by being united with him that you can share in it. This, then, is the desire which I have when I wish you to-day a happy Easter, as I do with my whole heart: that if you have not made your Easter duty, you will make it soon; and that if you have made it, you will persevere--that, having risen from the dead, you will die no more. {212} It is the wish compared with which all others are as nothing; for the happiness of the world is but for a few short years, but the joy of the soul is meant to last for ever. And if you would have it, there is one thing above all which you must do--which you must have done, if you have made a really good communion. Holy church reminds us of it in a prayer which is said today at Mass, and which is repeated frequently through the Easter season. This is to put away all that old leaven of malice and wickedness, that spirit of hatred and uncharitableness for your neighbor, which is so apt to rankle in your hearts. If you would be friends with God you must be friends with all his children. Let there be no one whom you will not speak to, whom you would avoid or pass by. When there has been a quarrel one of the two must make the first advances to reconciliation; try to have the merit of being that one, even though you think, probably wrongly, that you were not at all in fault. This day, when we meet to receive the blessing of our risen Saviour, is the day above all others for making friends. Unite, then, with your whole hearts in this prayer of the church which I am now about to read at the altar, first translating it for you: "Pour forth on us, Lord! the spirit of thy charity, that by thy mercy thou mayest make those to agree together whom thou hast fed with thy paschal mysteries; through Christ our Lord. Amen." ------------------------ {213} _Low Sunday_. Epistle. 1 _St. John v_. 4-10. Dearly beloved: Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world; and this is the victory which overcometh the world, our faith. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God? This is he that came by water and blood, Jesus Christ; not in water only, but in water and blood. And it is the spirit that testifieth, that Christ is the truth. For there are three that give testimony in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost. And these three are one. And there are three that give testimony on earth: the spirit, the water, and the blood, and these three are one. If we receive the testimony of men, the testimony of God is greater. For this is the testimony of God, which is greater, because he hath testified of his Son. He that believeth in the Son of God, hath the testimony of God in himself. Gospel. _St. John xx_. 19-31. At that time: When it was late that same day, being the first day of the week, and the doors were shut, where the disciples were gathered together for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst, and said to them: Peace be to you. And when he had said this, he showed them his hands, and his side. The disciples therefore were glad when they saw the Lord. And he said to them again: Peace be to you. As the Father hath sent me, I also send you. When he had said this he breathed on them; and he said to them: Receive ye the Holy Ghost. Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose you shall retain, they are retained. {214} Now Thomas, one of the twelve, who is called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came. The other disciples therefore said to him: We have seen the Lord. But he said to them: Unless I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe. And after eight days his disciples were again within, and Thomas with them. Jesus cometh, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said: Peace be to you. Then he saith to Thomas: Put in thy finger hither, and see my hands; and bring hither thy hand, and put it into my side; and be not incredulous, but faithful. Thomas answered, and said to him: My Lord, and my God. Jesus saith to him: Because thou hast seen me, Thomas, thou hast believed; blessed are they that have not seen, and have believed. Many other signs also did Jesus in the sight of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God: and that believing you may have life in his name. -------------------------- Sermon LXI. _Unless I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe._ --St. John xx. 25. "It is no vain question," says Father Matthias Faber, of the Society of Jesus, from whose writings this sermon is adapted--"it is no vain question whether we do not owe more to St. Thomas, who was slow in believing the fact of Christ's resurrection, than to the other apostles, who credited it instantly." Then he goes on to quote St. Gregory, who says that "the doubt of St. Thomas really removed _all_ doubt, and placed the fact that our Lord had really risen with his human body beyond all dispute." {215} So today, following the good Jesuit father, I am going to be St Thomas. I shall hear from many of you something of this kind: "O father! I am so delighted: my wife or my husband, my son, my brother, my friend, has risen from the dead. He or she has been to confession, given up his bad habits, come again into our midst; has been to Communion, has said, Peace be to you, has altogether reformed and become good." Ah! indeed. Is that so? Of course it is quite possible; but towards those whose resurrection you announce to me I am St. Thomas this morning, and say to them: "Unless I shall see in their hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into their side, I will not believe." In a word, I will not believe that any of you have risen from the dead, I will not believe that you have come out of the grave of mortal sin, unless I see in you the signs of a former crucifixion. First, I want to see the print of the nails. I want to see in your hands and feet--that is, in your inclinations and passions--the print of the nails that the priest drove in, in the confessional. I want to see that these hands strike no more, handle no more bad books, pass no more bad money, write no more evil letters, sign no more fraudulent documents, are stretched forth no more unto evil things, raised no more to curse. I want to see these hands lifted in prayer, stretched out to give alms, extended in mercy, busy in toiling for God and his church. I want to see these hands smoothing the pillows of the sick, giving drink to the thirsty, food to the hungry, and raiment to the naked. I want to see the print of the nails, or I will not believe. These feet, too--I must see them bearing you to the confessional regularly, taking you to Mass, carrying you to Benediction, bent under you in prayer. {216} In a word, I must see in you the signs of a true conversion, or I will not believe that you have really risen from the death of sin. Then, like St. Thomas, I must "put my finger into the place of the nails." That is, when you are taken down from the cross, when, as it were, you have persevered for quite a while in God's service, I want at any time to be able to assure myself that the wound is really there. I want to be sure that those old charlatans, the world and the flesh, haven't been round and healed those wounds with their salve of roses, their pleasures of life, and their elixir of youth. I want to know for certain that you have, by God's grace, raised your body from the grave, having first nailed it to the cross, and to be sure that it is the same body. I want to put my finger into the scars of crucifixion. Lastly, I want to put my hand into your side to see if the heart is wounded. I want to see if there is true contrition there. I want to find out if the old designs, the old loves, the old plans are driven out; I want to find out if that heart has really upon it the scar of the spear of God. O brethren! to say, "I have risen with Christ," is an easy thing; for others to tell the priest that you are truly converted presents no difficulty; but I am St. Thomas, and I want to _see_ the wounds. Then what a consolation for the priest if he can perceive plainly the print of the nails, put his hand into the place of the nails, and put his hand into the side! Then, like St. Thomas, he can cry: "My Lord and my God." For in the truly crucified and converted sinner he can see clearly the work of the Almighty. Ah! then, brethren, strive to crucify your flesh every day; strive to know nothing but Jesus, and him crucified. {217} Try to bear about in your bodies the "stigmata of the Lord Jesus," for they will be your best credentials on earth and your brightest glory in heaven. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. --------------------- Sermon LXII. _For this is the charity of God, that we keep his commandments._ --1 St. John v. 3. We have in these words the infallible test of a true Christian life. He alone truly loves God who keeps his commandments. I once heard of a man who used to get down on his knees every morning and recite the Ten Commandments as a part of his morning prayers. I believe that that man's religion was practical. He certainly had in his mind the right idea of what religion meant. We are apt to keep the commandments too much in the background. True, we have them and know them well enough, but they don't shine out in our lives as they should. Here is a man that prays, but don't pay his honest debts. Here is another that always goes to Mass, but has the habit of cursing. Another is honest and just with his neighbors, but, as everybody knows, gets drunk. People sometimes talk about the difficulties of having faith; but this is not where the trouble lies. The real struggle and conflict of religion is to correct the morals of men. True religion insists upon the keeping of the commandments, and that is why it is so repugnant to men. Faith is easy to the virtuous; if men wished to be moral there would be no difficulties about faith. We sometimes hear people say: "Your religion is a perfect tyranny." Yes, if you choose to call the Ten Commandments tyranny. {218} This is the only tyranny that I have ever found. I think, also, that every Catholic will testify that these Ten Commandments are what really make religion hard, and that if these could only be set aside men would never complain of its being hard. I never heard of a Catholic who was willing to keep the Ten Commandments who thought that anything else connected with his religion was hard. Here we have, then, in a nutshell, the whole secret of the opposition of men to the true religion; but, inconsistent as it may seem and really is, men, while they hate, have yet to admire what they hate. An apostate monk may set himself up as a reformer and talk about "justification by faith alone," but the world laughs at such nonsense. It trembles, though, when it hears our Lord say: "Every tree, therefore, that bringeth not forth good fruit shall be cut down and cast into the fire." "If any man loves me he will keep my commandments." This pretended reformer, Doctor Martin Luther, who called that wonderful Epistle of St. James, in which we are taught that "faith without good works is dead," "an epistle of straw," proved, however, to the world by his own life that it was this straw of being obliged to keep the commandments which broke his back, as it has broken the backs of so many others. But people do not have to leave the church to be thus broken, for we have in the bosom of the church, also, those who try to have piety without morality; but they are the hypocrites, the sham followers of Christ. They will some day, unless they speedily change their lives, hear our Lord saying to them: "I never knew you; depart from me, ye that work iniquity." Ah! may we not some of us have good reason to fear that we shall one day be judged as hypocrites? {219} The bankrupt merchant is afraid to look at his books, and trembles at the thought of attempting to calculate his liabilities; so those false Christians dare not look at the law of God to examine their lives by it. But, to their shame and grief, the day of reckoning will come. The devil may whisper to such, "Soul, take thy ease," but, thank God! there is the voice of God's church, which will not allow us to delude ourselves. If we Catholics go to hell it will be with our eyes wide open. The waves of passion can never drown that voice. It will always tell us of our sins, and will never let us be content in being hearers of the law, unless we are also doers. This is the way which is certainly pointed out to us; "and it shall be called the holy way." ----------------------- Sermon LXIII. _Jesus came, and stood in the midst, and said to them, Peace be to you._ --St. John xx. 26. In spite of there being so much fighting in the world, I think, my brethren, that there are not many of us who really like it for its own sake, or who would not rather have peace. Of course we are not willing to sacrifice everything for it; we do not want peace at any price. We do not want the peace of slavery--that which comes from being beaten. We want an honorable one--that which comes from having had the best of our adversary in a just war. {220} There is another kind of peace besides these two. It is that which comes from being let alone. But that is something which is not intended for us in this world. Somebody will always be interfering with us; if nobody else does, the devil, at any rate, will be sure to do so. No, arrange it as we may, our life will always be full of annoyances and conflicts, both from without and from within. And this kind of peace was not what our Lord wished and gave to his apostles on that glorious day when he arose from the dead. He knew very well that they, of all men in the world, were not going to be let alone. They were going to be put in the very front of the battle. Not only their neighbors but the whole world was going to rise up against them; and Satan, with his infernal host, was going to single them out as the special objects of his hatred and vengeance. No, the peace which our Lord gave to his apostles was not this, but that which comes from victory. And that is the peace which he wishes us also to have. Over whom, then, are we going to be victorious? In the first place, over the devil and all his temptations. Many Christians, I am sorry to say, make the opposite kind of peace with the devil--that is, the peace of slavery; one which they would be ashamed to make with anybody else. Should they be tempted by him to impurity, drunkenness, hatred, or blasphemy, they give in and strike their colors at once. Being tempted and sinning are all the same thing to them. Well, they have peace in a certain way by this; that is, the devil, when he finds what miserable and cowardly soldiers of Christ they are, does not trouble himself much about them. He feels pretty sure of them; they are his prisoners of war, and it is for his interest to treat them well as long as they are in this world. {221} Yes, if you want to make peace with the devil you can surrender to him at once. But shame, I say, on such a peace as this! It is a base, contemptible, and cowardly one, and it will not last long. Satan only waits for this life to be over to satisfy all his malice and hatred on those he now seems to love. But you may have, if you will, the peace and satisfaction of victory over him. Make up your mind to have it--to have it every time he tempts you. It is not so hard as you think; it is easy by the merits of our Lord's sacred Passion, which are at your command. He showed this to his apostles on that first Easter day, when he said to them: "Peace be to you." He showed them his hands and his side, bearing those glorious wounds, the marks and the pledge of victory. And you can also have the peace of victory over all others who trouble you in this world, however unjust and strong they may be. How? Why, in the same way as our Lord and his apostles had it. Not by fighting with them, and giving back as good as you get--no, but by giving much better than you get; by doing them all the good you can. Evil is not to be conquered by evil, but by good. "Love your enemies; do good to them that hate you"; that is what the Eternal Wisdom has said; that is the way to have victory and peace, not only in the next world but also in this; and the sooner you believe it and act on it the happier will you be. ----------------------- {222} _Second Sunday after Easter._ Epistle. 1 _St. Peter ii._ 21-25. Dearly beloved: Christ has suffered for us, leaving you an example that you should follow his steps. "Who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth." Who, when he was reviled, did not revile: when he suffered, he threatened not: but delivered himself to him that judged him unjustly. Who his own self bore our sins in his body upon the tree: that we, being dead to sins, should live to justice: by whose stripes you were healed. For you were as sheep going astray: but you are now converted to the pastor and bishop of your souls. Gospel. St John x. 11-16. At that time: Jesus said to the Pharisees: I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd giveth his life for his sheep. But the hireling, and he that is not the shepherd, whose own sheep they are not, seeth the wolf coming and leaveth the sheep, and flieth; and the wolf snatcheth and scattereth the sheep: and the hireling flieth, because he is a hireling: and he hath no care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd: and I know mine, and mine know me. As the Father knoweth me, and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for my sheep. And other sheep I have, that are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice, and there shall be one fold and one shepherd. --------- {223} Sermon LXIV. _I am the Good Shepherd._ --St. John x. 11. It is not requisite for me to prove to you, dear brethren, that our Lord was and is, in every sense, the "Good Shepherd," nor is it my intention to speak of him this morning in that character. I want to bring this fact before your minds--namely, that although the "great Shepherd and Bishop of our souls" has gone from us, yet he has left other authorized pastors to take charge of his flock. The Pope is a shepherd, the bishops are shepherds, and, to bring it down close to you, the priests of God's church are shepherds. You and your children are the sheep and the lambs of Christ's flock; we are your shepherds appointed by Jesus Christ to feed you, to watch over you, to keep you in the fold, to check you when you want to go astray. Now, then, every priest can say, "I am the good shepherd." And what does a good shepherd do? First, he tends his flock with care; and, secondly, he derives from it his means of support. Now, brethren, the priest's duty is to watch over and care for you; and that he does so you will not deny. He must hear your confessions, give you Holy Communion, come to you when you are ill, administer the sacraments to you, advise you, preach to you, instruct you, shield you from the wolves and seek you when you are lost, and often serve you at the risk of his own life. Now, the priest does all these things, not because he is paid, not because the people hire him and pay him a salary, but _simply_ and _solely_ because he is the good shepherd; because it is his mission, his office to do so; because he is placed over you by authority. {224} Now, it follows from this that it is your duty to be fed, to be kept in the fold, to be checked when you are going wrong, to hear his voice and obey him. I am afraid some don't understand this. How is it we hear of milk-and-water Catholics going to be married before magistrates, or, what is worse, before ministers of a false religion? How is it that we find Catholics denying their faith and going to a Protestant place of worship for the sake of a little food and clothing? The priest has God's own authority; you are the sheep. The priest has you in charge. God does not come and ask you if you would like a shepherd; he places one over you, and that he may guide you, and not that you may guide him. I say this for the benefit of those who are always talking about their priests, always picking holes in the conduct of their pastors. Such people forget their position, forget their obligations, and make themselves appear very ignorant, much wanting in faith, and very impertinent. Again, the shepherd lives by his flock; so the priest must be supported by the people. A priest has a body as well as you have, and he can't live on air or on shavings. Then he wants to build and keep in repair God's temples. He wants money to build schools and support them; he wants money to feed and clothe the poor. He wants money because it is your _duty_ to give it; for one of the laws of the church is, "To pay tithes to your pastors." Often, too, it is a great kindness for us to accept some of your worldly riches, which otherwise would, perhaps, prevent your entry into heaven. We can do with the riches what the shepherd does with his wool: make clothes for the naked and destitute, exchange what we get for building and decorating God's church, and a hundred other things of which you, the sheep, and your children, the lambs of Christ's flock, will get the heavenly merit and the everlasting profit. {225} Oh! then, brethren, have faith, try always to cling to the priest as the good shepherd, so that at the last day we may call you all by name, and find that of the little flock of sheep and lambs not one is missing. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. -------------- Sermon LXV. _Christ suffered for us, leaving you an example that you should follow his steps_. --1 St. Peter ii. 21. The holy church is not going to let us forget the cross, my brethren, even in this joyous Easter season. There is a prayer, or Commemoration of the Cross, which she orders to be said in the divine Office even more frequently now than during the rest of the year; and here in the Epistle of to-day she warns us that we all must take up our cross as our Lord took his, if we would have a share in the triumph which we now celebrate. "Christ," says St. Peter, "left us an example that we should follow in his steps." St. Peter had not forgotten those words which his Master after his resurrection spoke to him on the shore of the Sea of Galilee: "Do thou follow me." He tried to do it; and he did follow his Lord in a life of toil and suffering, ended by a painful death on the cross like to that which his Saviour had borne. He followed the example which had been set him; he believed what he says in this Epistle of his, and acted on it. How is it with us? {226} Many Christians seem to imagine that our Lord, by his resurrection, took away, or ought to have taken away, all trouble from the earth. They cannot understand how it is that in this redeemed world, whose sins his Blood has expiated, the cross still keeps coming down on them at every turn. They honor the cross, and are grateful for the redemption which it has brought them; but even when they kiss it on Good Friday they do not understand that they have got to take it, embrace it, and bear it themselves. And yet that is the fact. The cross is to free us from eternal suffering, but not from that which passes away. Our Lord did not suffer in order that we might have no suffering at all, but that we might be able to bear our sufferings better, and to bear greater ones than we could otherwise have borne. He might have redeemed us without suffering as he did; but one of the reasons why he did not choose to was that we, the guilty, to whom the cross belongs, may bear it cheerfully when we see Him who was innocent taking it on his shoulders. But why did not our Lord suffer enough to free us from suffering at all? I think there are not many who are ungenerous enough to ask such a question plainly, though it seems to be in a great many people's minds. Well, I will tell you why he left us a share of his cup. It was for the same reason that he took his own share: it was because he loved us, and chose what was for our best good. And he knew it was better for us to be saved through our own sufferings as far as possible. {227} They could not be enough of themselves; so he did what was enough, and then enough more to bring down our own share to just what we could make the best use of with his grace and by his example. That is the reason, then, why the cross is left in the world. Try to see it and acknowledge it yourselves; that is better than to have the cross meeting you as a strange and unaccountable thing. For it will meet you at Easter as well as at other times of the year; even when you are happiest there will always be some cloud in your sky. There will never be any real and true Easter for you till you shall, like your Redeemer, have exchanged this temporal life for that which is eternal. But do not be too much in a hurry for that time. He knows best how much suffering is good for you. Count it a joy and an honor that he has thought you worthy to follow in his steps, and thank him for the example which he has given you to help him to do so, as well as for his merits which he has also given you that your following might not be in vain. --------------- Sermon LXVI. _And other sheep I have that are not of this fold; them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice, and there shall be one fold and one shepherd._ --St. John x. 16. If we only knew how much our Lord loves those "other sheep" who are not in the one true fold, we should think and act differently from what we do towards them. As we look upon the sacred image of our Divine Lord upon the cross, we behold his arms and hands stretched to their utmost extent to embrace the whole world. {228} He is the second Adam, who came to undo the work of the first Adam; and as the terrible consequences of the first transgression have extended to _all_ men without exception, so, also, to repair this evil which has come upon all men it was necessary that the grace of salvation should be offered to _all_ without exception. And from this we may infer that God does not simply will that men should be saved, but that he actually gives to every man that is born sufficient grace to accomplish this great work. But are those who stay outside of the one fold in the way to use this sufficient grace? Certainly they are not, or our Lord never would have said: "Them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice, and there shall be one fold and one shepherd." No one, therefore, can be said to be in the way of salvation who stays outside of the one true fold of the Catholic Church. We cannot, of course, know what extraordinary means of grace God may use for those who are ignorant of the church, yet we do know with perfect certainty that the Catholic Church, with its doctrine, sacraments, and other means of grace, is the only divinely-established means of salvation for all men. Knowing, then, that our Divine Lord, inasmuch as he died for all men, wills to bring all men into the one true fold, where they may be under one shepherd, we must feel it to be our duty, if we have the love of Christ in our hearts, by our prayers, words, and good example to bring the "other sheep" of whom our Lord speaks so lovingly to the knowledge of this one fold. {229} It is only a coldness of faith and charity which can make us look upon those who are outside of the church as if they were already where they ought to be, and where God wishes them to be, or make us think that it is a hopeless task to try to bring them into the true church. Our Lord has promised that they shall hear his voice. We know, then, that he will co-operate by his all-powerful grace with what we do for their salvation. Our first duty is that of prayer for these "other sheep." Every prayer that we offer up for the conversion of infidels and heretics will be heard, and will bring down upon them additional grace. Prayer opened the hearts of the Irish people, when they were in the darkness of paganism, to receive the true faith from St. Patrick. In our own day, also, prayer has brought thousands of Protestants and infidels into the true church. Father Ignatius Spencer, of the Order of Passionists, was raised up by God to spread among the Catholics of Ireland and England the devotion of prayers for England, and we behold the results of these prayers in the great "Oxford movement," which brought so many into the church and has opened the way for so many more conversions. Can we ever by our words bring others into the church? Yes. An explanation of some point of Catholic doctrine, an invitation to come and hear a sermon, the lending of a Catholic book, may be the means which God has chosen for the conversion of our Protestant neighbor. "Who knows," said St. Alphonsus Liguori, "what God requires of me? Perhaps the predestination of certain souls may be attached to some of my prayers, penances, and good works." But, above all, by our good example we should lead others into the "one fold." "Actions speak louder than words," but woe to us if our actions belie the truth of our faith! {230} What shall we answer if accused before the tribunal of God by souls who would have known and have been saved by the truth but for our bad example? We must never forget, dear brethren, our duty towards those "other sheep" for whom our Lord died just as much as he did for us. ----------------------- {231} _Third Sunday after Easter_. Feast of the Patronage of St. Joseph. Epistle. 1 _St. Peter ii._ 11-19. Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims to refrain yourselves from carnal desires, which war against the soul; having your conversation good among the Gentiles; that whereas they speak against you as evil-doers, considering you by your good works they may glorify God in the day of visitation. Be ye subject therefore to every human creature for God's sake; whether it be to the king as excelling, or to governors as sent by him for the punishment of evil-doers and for the praise of the good; for so is the will of God, that by doing well you may silence the ignorance of foolish men: as free, and not as making liberty a cloak of malice, but as the servants of God. Honor all men; love the brotherhood; fear God; honor the king. Servants, be subject to your masters with all fear, not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward. For this is thankworthy, in Christ Jesus our Lord. Epistle of the Feast. _Genesis xlix._ 22-26. Joseph is a growing son, a growing son and comely to behold; the daughters run to and fro upon the wall. But they that held darts provoked him, and quarrelled with him, and envied him. His bow rested upon the strong, and the bands of his arms and his hands were loosed by the hands of the mighty one of Jacob: thence he came forth a pastor, the stone of Israel. {232} The God of thy Father shall be thy helper, and the Almighty shall bless thee with the blessings of heaven above, with the blessings of the deep that lieth beneath, with the blessings of the breasts and of the womb. The blessings of thy father are strengthened with the blessings of his fathers: until the desire of the everlasting hills should come; may they be upon the head of Joseph, and upon the crown of the Nazarite among his brethren. Gospel. _St. John xvi._ 16-22. At that tine: Jesus said to his disciples: A little while, and now you shall not see me: and again a little while, and you shall see me: because I go to the Father. Then some of his disciples said one to another: What is this that he saith to us: A little while, and you shall not see me: and again a little while, and you shall see me, and because I go to the Father? They said therefore: What is this that he saith, a little while? we know not what he speaketh. And Jesus knew that they were desirous to ask him; and he said to them: Of this do you inquire among yourselves, because I said: A little while, and you shall not see me: and again a little while, and you shall see me? Amen, amen I say to you, that you shall lament and weep, but the world shall rejoice: and you shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy. A woman, when she is in labor, hath sorrow, because her hour is come: but when she hath brought forth the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world. So also you now indeed have sorrow, but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice; and your joy no man shall take from you. Gospel of the Feast. _St. Luke iii._ 21-23. At that time it came to pass, when all the people were baptized, that Jesus also being baptized and praying, heaven was opened: and the Holy Ghost descended in a bodily shape as a dove upon him: and a voice came from heaven: Thou art my beloved Son, in thee I am well pleased. And Jesus himself was beginning about the age of thirty years: being (as it was supposed) the son of Joseph. ---------------------------- {233} Sermon LXVII. Our Holy Father, Pope Pius IX., as you know, dear brethren, has made his reign glorious by defining the dogma of the Immaculate Conception; thus placing in our dear Lady's diadem the brightest gem that adorns it. He has further rendered his pontificate glorious by declaring the chaste spouse of Mary Immaculate, St. Joseph, to be the patron of the universal church. When we celebrated the feast of St. Joseph, on the 19th of last month, his statue was veiled by the hangings of Passion-tide; but today his image is exposed to our gaze, and I have thought that this discourse cannot be better occupied than by considering how fitting it is that good St. Joseph should be the patron of the universal church, and how great a devotion we should have towards him. St. Joseph is a fitting patron for the rich and for those whom God has placed in the high positions and stations of this world; for let us never forget that St. Joseph, although poor, was, by lineal descent, of the royal house of David. He was of high birth, of noble blood, and yet how humble, how willing to work for his living when it became necessary! So, then, here is a lesson for those who hold their heads high in the world. Some day, dear friends, you may come down, you may be brought low. You may lose your money, lose position, lose your place in society. Take example, then, from St. Joseph. Do not say like the unjust steward: "To dig I am unable, and to beg I am ashamed"; but remember that the fairest hands that ever were, and the noblest blood that ever flowed, are never disgraced by honest labor or necessary toil. {234} St. Joseph is a fitting patron also for the poor. He had to work hard. He had, for the safety of the Divine Child and his Immaculate Spouse, to take long and weary journeys. He had the pain of seeing Jesus and Mary turned from the doors of Bethlehem, while those who had money were safely and comfortably lodged. Yet he never complained, never murmured. He worked, and bore all the inconveniences of poverty without a word. Is it so with you who are poor? Don't you sometimes envy the rich, get discontented with your position, feel rebellious against the will of God? If so, I point you to St. Joseph. He is your model. He is your example; strive to imitate him in all things. Are you humiliated? Bear it for Christ's sake. Are you punished by cold and hunger? Bear it for Christ's sake. Are you weary after your day's labor? Bear it, bear it all for Christ's sake, as good St. Joseph did. St. Joseph, too, is a model for the married. He cared tenderly for the Virgin Mother and her Divine Child. He loved them, he guarded them. He is a model for the unmarried in his purity of life. He is a model for the priest, a model for the people, a model for the young, an example for the old. Oh! then how wisely our Holy Father acted in making him patron of the universal church. But not only is St. Joseph patron of the living, but also of the dying and the dead--of the dying, because he died in the arms of Jesus and Mary. Beautiful death! The Son of God at his side, the Mother of God to support his dying form! brethren! we who are here to-day living will one day be dying. {235} Let us, then, pray St. Joseph that he will obtain for us the grace of a happy death--the grace to die, as he died, in the arms of Jesus and Mary. Then, no matter if flames devour us, or waters overwhelm us, or disease slays us, we shall be safe--safe, for the Son of God will hold us by the hand; safe, for the Mother of God will throw around an all-protecting mantle of defence. And, lastly, St. Joseph is the patron of those who are dead and in purgatory. He waited long in limbo before he entered into the joy of heaven. Separated from all he loved on earth, and seeing the pearly gates of heaven, not yet opened by the bloodshed of Calvary, shut against him, oh! how great must his longing have been. Ah! then I am sure St. Joseph feels for and loves the holy souls in purgatory, who, like himself, have lost earth and not yet gained heaven. Let us all, then, hasten to St. Joseph to-day. Let us pray for ourselves and others. Let us pray for the living and pray for the dead. Let us say: "O great patron of the whole church! look down from the loftiness of thy mountain to the lowliness of our valley; obtain for us to live like thee, to die like thee, and to reign _with_ thee in everlasting bliss." Rev. Algernon A. Brown. -------------------- Sermon LXVIII. On this Sunday, my dear brethren, the church celebrates every year the feast of the Patronage of St. Joseph. You have often heard it read out from the altar, you heard it just now; and yet I am afraid most of you might as well not have heard it, for all the impression it made on you. {236} If you thought anything about the notice you probably thought that it was only something to interest the pious people, to let them know when to say their prayers and go to Communion. If you did you made a great mistake. St. Joseph is not a saint for pious people only, but for every Christian. That is true of all the saints, but specially so of St. Joseph. All the saints take an interest in all of us, however weak and imperfect, or even sinful, we may be; they all love us and care for us far more than our friends in this world. Still, they have perhaps a particular care for some, as we have, or should have, a particular devotion to some of them as our patrons. But St. Joseph is everybody's patron. That is what holy church means by inviting us all to celebrate this feast of his Patronage, and by giving him the title, as she did only a few years ago, of patron of the universal church. He is the patron of the church in general and of each member of it in particular. What is a patron? The word has rather gone out of common use. Well, it is a friend at court. A patron is one who has got influence and power to use for our advantage. If we want anything he is the one to get it for us. He is the man that you go to if you want to get an office or employment of any kind from the powers that be; and generally you will find it pretty hard to get a place, if you have not such a friend to go to. {237} Well, St. Joseph is such a friend for all of us in the court of heaven, and that is the one where we all want to have an interest; for there is where all matters are really arranged, whether regarding heaven or earth. If you want anything whatever St. Joseph is the one to go to, whether it be the most important thing of all--that is, the grace of final perseverance and salvation--or merely to pay your debts or save you from want. He will get you either one, though I do not know that he will get you the dollar, if you do not want the grace also. But you will say, perhaps: "I do not need St. Joseph's help so much, for I have Our Blessed Lady to go to; is not she more powerful even than he is?" Well, I do not deny that, of course, nor that she is the best of all patrons. Neither does the church; for she celebrates, as you know, the feast of Our Lady's Patronage also. But I would not give much for your devotion to her, neither would she herself, unless you include St. Joseph in it. You might as well try to separate her from her Divine Son as St. Joseph from her. Besides, you know the saints have what I may call their specialties. It is not, for instance, a superstition to ask the help of St. Anthony of Padua to find for us what we have lost. St. Joseph has several specialties; and one of them, and one which I know you will think quite important, is the help which he will give to us in temporal necessities when we are hard pressed for money, or things seem in any way to be going very much against us. Let me, then, suggest to you a very practical form of devotion to him. When anything goes wrong, instead of worrying about it and making it keep you from prayer, or even, perhaps, from Holy Mass, go to St. Joseph about it; ask him to get you what you want or to relieve your from your trouble. He will do it for you, unless it be bad for your soul. {238} Perhaps you think this is all fancy. Well, all I say is, just try, and you will see whether it is or not. You will find plenty of people who will tell you that what I say is true. But ask St. Joseph to help your soul, too, for he does not want to have you neglect that. See if you cannot make the patronage of St. Joseph, both temporally and spiritually, more of a reality to yourselves before another year has gone by. -------------------- Sermon LXIX. _Be ye subject therefore to every human creature for God's sake._ --1 St. Peter ii. 13. If we stop to consider these words of the Epistle, my dear brethren, they must certainly have a strange sound to us in this age of the world, and especially in this country, which makes liberty its great boast. Many of us, I am afraid, in spite of their reverence for St. Peter, who gives this instruction, would be tempted to say that this doctrine of his is a very curious one. "Be subject to every human creature," indeed! Why, on the contrary, in this free and enlightend republic, we do not acknowledge subjection to any one; we hold that every man is equal; we are all sovereigns and make laws ourselves--not subjects, obedient to laws made by others. We observe the laws of the land, it is true, but that is because they are arrangements made by the majority for the good of the nation, state, or city, and because we must have some sort of law if we are to have any kind of order. {239} Well, this creed, which some of you, perhaps, have adopted, may sound well enough in itself, but unfortunately it does not seem to agree very well with St. Peter's inspired and infallible teaching. We must, if we are Catholics, acknowledge that instead of claiming that no one has a right to control us, we ought, as he says, to "be subject to every human creature." The only thing, then, is to find out just what he means by this. Does St. Peter mean, then, that we must be willing to obey every human creature, every man, woman, or child that undertakes to command us? Yes, there is no doubt that such is his doctrine. We must be _willing_ to obey every one; we must have a spirit of subjection and humility, not of superiority and pride. We must not think that we are too good or too wise to be commanded by any one, however bad or however foolish he may seem to be. We must have a desire to obey, not to command. But does St. Peter mean that we actually must always obey every one, man, woman, or child, who chooses to command us? No, of course he does not mean that. We shall see what he does mean by bringing in the rest of the text. "Be ye subject," he says, "to every human creature _for God's sake_." That is, be subject, as a matter of counsel, to every human creature, whenever we can suppose that creature to be speaking in the name of God; and as a matter of precept whenever we are sure that such is the case. {240} The first is a counsel, as I said, to be followed by those who would be perfect; to mortify our own will and submit to the direction of others when it is not evidently wrong or foolish. But the second is a strict duty to be practised if we would be saved: to submit to the commands of those who certainly do speak in God's name, when their commands are not plainly wrong. And who are those who speak in God's name? First, they are those whom he has appointed to rule his church--your Holy Father the Pope, the bishops, and your pastors. Remember, when they speak to you they speak in the name of God; do not murmur against them, but obey cheerfully for his sake, whether their commands come to you directly or through others whom they appoint to duties connected with the church. Secondly, they are those whom he has appointed to rule the state or nation. No state or nation can be governed except in the name of God. That is what St. Paul says distinctly: "The powers that are," he says--and he was speaking of the heathen emperors--"are ordained of God. Therefore he that resisteth the power resisteth the ordinance of God. And they that resist purchase to themselves damnation." Be submissive, then, to the authorities and officers of every degree and kind in the nation, state, or city, when you meet them in the discharge of their duty. Though you may have chosen them yourselves, when they have been chosen they speak to you in God's name. Lastly, those who rule in the family do so in the name of God. Children should remember that when they disobey their parents it is God's commands they are disobeying, and that disobedience in any grave matter is a mortal sin. And servants--for such really are those who live out in families--should also bear in mind their duty of obedience for God's sake and as to God. "Servants," says St. Peter in this Epistle, "be subject to your masters with all fear." {241} Yes, we should all fear to disobey lawful authority, because God has established it, not we ourselves. And we should also understand that only in obedience for God's sake is true liberty to be found. -------------------- {242} _Fourth Sunday after Easter._ Epistle. _St. James i._ 17-21. Dearly beloved: Every best gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no change nor shadow of vicissitude. For of his own will hath he begotten us by the word of truth, that we might be some beginning of his creatures. You know, my dearest brethren, and let every man be swift to hear, but slow to speak, and slow to anger. For the anger of man worketh not the justice of God. Wherefore casting away all uncleanness, and abundance of malice, with meekness receive the engrafted word, which is able to save your souls. Gospel. _St. John xvi._ 5-14. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: I go to him that sent me, and none of you asketh me: Whither goest thou? But because I have spoken these things to you, sorrow hath filled your heart. But I tell you the truth: it is expedient to you that I go: for if I go not, the Paraclete will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you. And when he shall come, he will convince the world of sin, and of justice, and of judgment. Of sin indeed: because they have not believed in me. And of justice: because I go to the Father; and you shall see me no longer. And of judgment: because the prince of this world is already judged. I have yet many things to say to you: but you cannot bear them now. But when he, the Spirit of truth, shall come, he will teach you all truth. For he shall not speak of himself: but what things soever he shall hear, he shall speak, and the things that are to come he shall show you. He shall glorify me: because he shall receive of mine, and will declare it to you. ----------------------- {243} Sermon LXX. _I tell you the truth: it is expedient for you that I go, ... But I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice; and your joy no man shall take from you._ --St. John xvi. 7, 22. We all know, dear brethren, what place our Lord was speaking about and to which he was soon to go. He was soon to leave his disciples and go to heaven. To that place we all hope to go also, that we may see him there, where, as he promises further on in the same discourse, our hearts shall rejoice, and where our joy no man shall take from us. Now, there are three joys, it seems to me, which go to make up the happiness of heaven. First, we shall be consoled; second, we shall be satisfied; and, last and best of all, we shall see God. We shall be consoled for all the evils we have suffered in this world. Oftentimes we have to fight pretty hard against the world, the flesh, and the devil, and we have received, perhaps, many a grievous wound in mind and heart. Then, again, we have endured much sickness, experienced many a bitter pang, undergone many a heavy trial. Once we are in heaven we shall be consoled for all these things there; our wounds will be healed, our sins forgiven, our hearts comforted. There we shall see the fruits of our penance, there we shall be solaced for all we have borne. He who leads his flock like a shepherd and carries the lambs in his bosom will come to us; he will fold us in his holy arms, and for evermore we shall be at peace. Again, we shall be satisfied. Here we love certain places and their surroundings; we love creatures; we love all that is beautiful. But we are not satisfied, for all these things either leave us or we are forced to leave them. {244} Now, in heaven exists all the beauty and loveliness of earth, only in a degree infinitely higher and fairer. There we shall have all things we can desire, and possess them without fear of change or loss. There we feel all the sweetness of prayer, all the delights of sensible devotion, all that the saints on earth felt when rapt in ecstasy, and more. Here there is always something to disappoint us, something that makes us restless and uncomfortable. There everything will exceed our highest hopes, our best desires--in a word, in heaven, and in heaven alone, we shall be perfectly satisfied. Then, lastly, O joy of joys! we shall see God. We shall see him face to face. We shall see the beauty of God. We shall behold his wisdom and his everlasting glory. Yes, brethren, these poor eyes, that have shed so many tears, they shall see God. The poor eyes so weary from watch and vigil, so tired of looking up into heaven after Jesus and Mary, so sick of looking around on earth, so terrified from looking down into hell--these eyes shall see God. We shall gaze on all the blessed. We shall see Jesus, and Mary, and Joseph. Our eyes will look upon the golden pavement of the celestial streets, the gates of pearl, and the walls of amethyst. We shall see all the brightness and glory of heaven, for we shall see God. Brethren, these joys are waiting for you. Every baptized member of Christ's mystical body has a right to a home in that land of peace! Ah! then be careful, I pray you, not to lose the way. See where the Standard-bearer leads! See the cross that he bears. Oh! you all want to go to heaven, I am sure you do. There is only one thing that can keep you out, and that is mortal sin. {245} Stain your soul with mortal sin by grievous violation of any one of the commandments, and that is enough, should you die impenitent, to keep you for ever from being consoled, from enjoying eternal happiness, from seeing God. Ah! then, brethren, walk in the narrow road. Be faithful and loving children of the church, and then one day you will leave this poor, weary, sinful world and go to dwell for ever within the walls of the City of Peace. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ----------------- Sermon LXXI. _Let every man be swift to hear, but slow to speak._ --St. James i. 19. I think that every one of you, my dear friends, will agree with me that this would be a much happier world than it is if this recommendation of St. James, in the Epistle of to-day, were carried out. For it is quite plain, I think, to every one of you that other people talk too much. If they would only say less, and listen more to what you have to say, things would go on much better. If they would only be swift to hear, but slow to speak, the world would get much more benefit from your wisdom and experience than is now the case. But, unfortunately, this general conviction, in which, I think, we all share more or less, does not tend to produce the desired result, but rather the contrary; for it makes everybody more anxious to speak and to be listened to, and more unwilling to listen themselves. We all want everybody except ourselves to keep St. James's rule, but do not set them a good example. {246} So our example does harm, while our conviction does no good; and things are worse than if we did not agree with St. James at all. Now, would it not be a good idea if each one would try, if it were only for the sake of good example, to be less willing to talk and more willing to listen? And perhaps, after all, even we ourselves do sometimes say a word or two which is hardly worth saying, or perhaps a great deal better unsaid. A story is told of a crazy man who, in some very lucid interval, asked a friend if he could tell the difference between himself and the people who were considered to be of sound mind. His friend, curious to see what he would say, said: "No; what is it?" "Well," said the crazy man, "it is that I say all that comes into my head, while you other people keep most of it to yourselves." My friends, I am afraid the crazy man was about right, but he was too complimentary in his judgment of others. By his rule there would be a great many people in the asylum who are now at large. Really, it seems as if it never occurred to some persons who are supposed to be in their right minds whether their thoughts had better be given to the world or not. Out they must come, no matter whether wise or foolish, good or bad. Yes, the madman, for once in his life, was pretty nearly right. One who talks without consideration, who says everything that comes into his or her head, is about as much a lunatic as those who are commonly called so; for such will have one day to give an account for all their foolish and inconsiderate words, long after they themselves have forgotten them. And to carelessly run up this account is a very crazy thing. {247} A little instrument has lately been invented, as you no doubt have heard, which will take down everything you say; it is called the phonograph. It makes little marks on a sheet of tinfoil, and by means of these it will repeat for you all you have said, though it may have quite passed out of your own mind. There are a great many uses to which this little instrument may be put; but I think that one of the best would be to make people more careful of what they say. They would think before they spoke, if a phonograph was around. Few people would like to have a record kept of their talk, all ready to be turned off at a moment's notice. It would sound rather silly, if no worse, when it was a day or two old. Perhaps the phonograph will never be used in this way; but there is a record of all your words on something more durable than a sheet of tinfoil. This record is in the book from which you will be judged at the last day. Our Lord has told us that at that day we shall have not only to hear but to give an account for all the idle words spoken in our lives. Should not, then, this thought restrain our tongues, and make us rather be swift to hear than to speak?--more especially as it is generally only by hearing that one can learn to speak well. But what should you be swift to hear? Not the foolish or sinful talk of others no more careful than yourselves. Be willing, indeed, to listen to all with humility, believing them to be wiser or better than you are; but seek the company and conversation of those whom you know to be so. Nothing better can come out of your heads than what is put into them. You will be like those with whom you converse. {248} And therefore, above all, seek silence, that in it you may converse with Almighty God, and hear what he has to say to you. He is the one above all others whom you should be swift to hear. When you get in the way of listening to him you will be slow enough to speak. There is nothing so sure to prevent idle words as the habit of conversation with God. ------------------- Sermon LXXII. _Let every man be ... slow to anger. For the anger of man worketh not the justice of God._ --St. James i. 19, 20. What is the reason, my brethren, that people sin by anger so much? There is no temptation, it seems to me, that is more often given way to. Other ones, though frequently consented to, are also frequently resisted, even by those most subject to them; but with this it seems as if we were like gunpowder: touch the match to us, and off we go; if any one does us an injury or says an insulting word, we flare up at once and give back all we got, and more. Afterward, perhaps, we are sorry; but that seems to do no good. Next time it is just the same. And so it goes on, till perhaps we begin to think that we really are like gunpowder; that God made us so that we cannot help going off when the match of provocation is applied. But that is not true. It will never do to make God the cause of our sins. It is our own fault. But what is the fault? What is the matter that this temptation is not resisted like others? {249} I will tell you what I think the matter is. It is that the temptation to anger does not seem to be a temptation at the time. The angry word seems to you all right when you utter it. It is not so with other things--sins of impurity, for instance. You know they are wrong, and that you ought to resist them, even when they are on you; and sometimes you make up your mind to do so. But it is not so in this sin of anger. And why does it not seem to be a temptation? Why do you think it no sin to say the angry word, to flare up when you are provoked? It is because your mind is confused at the time, so that you cannot tell what is sin and what is not. That is the truth, if I am not mistaken. It is just the peculiar danger of this temptation that it disturbs and confuses the mind more than any other one. You cannot tell what really is right when you are under it; it is not safe to do anything at all. You are for the time like one who is drunk or crazy. When a man has drank too much, if he have any sense left he will keep out of the way of other people until he is sobered. For he knows he is not fit to do or say anything when he is intoxicated, and that he will only make a fool of himself if he tries. That is common sense and prudence; and many men, oven when drunk, have enough common sense and prudence left to follow this course. But very few have when under the passing drunkenness of anger. Most angry people do not know enough to hold their tongues. They ought to. They ought to have learned by experience. Well, then, this being the matter, the fault of angry people is plain enough. It is this: that they do not try to guard themselves against this temptation in the only way they can--that is, by remembering and acting on these words of St. James which I read to you from the Epistle of to-day: "The anger of man worketh not the justice of God." It always works injustice; that is, it always makes a mistake and does what is wrong. It has not sense enough to do what is right. {250} The only way to avoid the sin, then, is the one that St. James gives. Be slow to anger. Don't trust it, however sure you may be that it advises you rightly. It is a fool; don't listen to it. Wait till you get cool, till reason can have fair play. I say this is the only way you can avoid this sin. I mean that nothing else will cure you of it unless you do this. Confession and Communion, prayer, penance, and other things, will help you; but this is indispensable. You know when you are under the influence of anger well enough. When you are, hold your tongue and hold your hand. You may have to do or say something afterwards, but very seldom there and then. God will not be likely to give you grace that is not needed; and you will not have the grace to do what is right when your duty is to do nothing, and wait till the temptation passes by. Remember that you are a fool when you are angry, if you do not want to act like one and be sorry for it afterwards. ------------------------ {251} _Fifth Sunday after Easter._ Epistle. _St. James i._ 22-27. Dearly beloved: Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves. For if a man be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he shall be compared to a man beholding his natural countenance in a glass. For he beheld himself, and went his way, and presently forgot what manner of man he was. But he that hath looked into the perfect law of liberty, and hath continued in it, not becoming a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work: this man shall be blessed in his deed. And if any man think himself to be religious, not bridling his tongue, but deceiving his own heart, this man's religion is vain. Religion pure and unspotted with God and the Father, is this: to visit the fatherless and widows in their tribulation; and to keep one's self undefiled from this world. Gospel. _St. John xvi._ 23-30. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: Amen, amen I say to you, if you ask the Father anything in my name, he will give it you. Hitherto you have not asked anything in my name. Ask, and you shall receive: that your joy may be full. These things have I spoken to you in proverbs. The hour cometh when I will no more speak to you in proverbs, but will show you plainly of the Father. In that day you shall ask in my name: and I say not to you, that I will ask the Father for you. For the Father himself loveth you, because you have loved me, and have believed that I came forth from God. I came forth from the Father, and am come into the world; again I leave the world, and I go to the Father. His disciples say to him: Behold now thou speakest plainly, and speakest no proverb. Now we know that thou knowest all things, and that for thee it is not needful that any man ask thee. In this we believe that thou camest forth from God. ---------------- {252} Sermon LXXIII. _Amen, amen I say to you, if you ask the Father anything in my name, he will give it you._ --St. John xvi. 23. What a wonderful promise this is--that everything we ask of Almighty God, who is the Father of mercies, shall be granted to us, if we ask it in the name of his only-begotten Son, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ! Does our Lord really mean all he says? Do people get all they pray for? Does it not seem to us sometimes that we pray in vain--that God seems to shut his ears against our cry, and has no regard to our tears and supplications? Yes, it does often _seem_ so, but it is not really so. God's ways are not always our ways to reach the end we desire. And our own experience will tell us that it is very seldom it would be the best for us if God took us at our word. The real reason why we do not obtain the answer we wish to many of our prayers is, first, because we do not ask, as we ought, in the name of Jesus Christ. What is it to ask in his name? It is to ask in the name of Him who came on earth, not to do his own will, but the will of his Divine Father. Oh! how seldom we pray for favors and blessings according to the will of God. Our blessed Lord, on the night before he was crucified, foreseeing his death, and bowed to the earth in his agony, ended his prayer with the words. "Not as I will, but as thou wilt." That is not our way. {253} When we are in sorrow and trouble we think God should will as we will, and we are disappointed and discouraged because we do not get well of our sickness, or that calamity we feared comes, or poverty sticks to us, or the conversion of those we pray for is denied, or we do not obtain the employment we seek, or we have to give up hope of getting that farm we set our heart upon. Who is the judge, after all, about granting prayers? Who else but God, who not only has the power to grant or refuse them, as he chooses, but also has the perfect knowledge whether it would be best for us to receive a favorable answer or not? He who prays in the name of Jesus, prays with implicit trust in God's goodness and wisdom, and if he has not mistaken his own will for the will of God, will feel and should feel just as contented, no matter which way God answers his prayer. The second reason why we do not always get what we pray for is because we are constantly asking for things which we dare not presume to ask in the name of Jesus Christ. We know in our heart of hearts that it is a petition he would not offer to his Divine Father for us. If we had to write that petition down we would neither begin nor end it with the words, "In the name of Jesus." It is our pride that is praying, our worldly ambition, our lusts and our selfish desires. We do not put the name of Jesus to our prayer, because the spirit of Jesus is not in it. Charity is wanting. We want to be happy, even if others are suffering. We want money, even if our brethren starve. We desire high places and the success of our undertakings, even if our neighbor and his interests go to the wall. Alas! it is self that prays the loudest and the oftenest and makes the greatest show. {254} Now, dear brethren, let us learn to bring all our prayers up to the right standard. No matter what we ask for, let it be always according to the will of God, and that alone. Then our prayer will surely be granted, for the will of God, no longer opposed and hindered by our will, accomplishes just what is best for us. If we do not get just what we think best, it is because God, in his divine generosity, chooses to give us something better, or takes a wiser way to do it than we knew of. If I were to advise you how to always pray in the name of Jesus, I would say, Add always these words to every prayer you make: "So may God grant it, if my salvation be in it." God grants no prayer that does not have that end in view. His divine love for us constantly regards that, even if we forget it. Pray, then, with confidence and perseverance, but have a care to pray always with and for the will of God. Then in heaven we shall see, if not here, how not a single true prayer we ever made was left unanswered. ---------------------- Sermon LXXIV. _Amen, amen I say to you, if you ask the Father anything in my name, He will give it you._ --St. John xvi. 23. These are the words of Christ, taken from the Gospel of to-day; we cannot doubt them for a moment. They are the words of him who is the infallible Truth, who can neither deceive nor be deceived. And yet how seldom do we act as if we really believed them! How seldom do you, my brethren, ask anything of the Father in the name of Christ with real confidence that you will receive what you ask for. {255} Many people say prayers, but few really pray. That is, many say over certain forms of prayer which they know by heart or read out of their prayer-books; many even feel bound to say some particular set of prayers every day, for the scapular which they wear, or for some other reason; but if you should ask them what they are praying for, what particular thing they wish to obtain from God when they say these prayers, few would be able to tell you, unless, indeed, they happened to be making a novena for some special object. So, I say, it does not seem as if we Christians believed what our Lord tells us in these words. For surely, if we did, almost all our prayers would be petitions for some particular thing which we wanted, instead of mere devotional exercises. And why? Because we are always in want of something, and we must certainly believe that Almighty God has the power to give us what we want; should we not, then, be always praying for what we want, did we fully believe that he has the will to give it to us? Is it, then, really true that God will give us all good things which we ask in prayer? Yes, it certainly is; that is exactly the meaning of these words of Christ. All good things, I say; for it is only good things which we can ask in his name. And if God would give us bad things which we should ask for, our Saviour's promise would be a curse, not a blessing as it really is. No; God will not answer bad prayers--that is, prayers for what is bad. People sometimes make such prayers and expect him to answer them. They pray for vengeance on those who have injured them; they pray that others may suffer as much as they have made them suffer, and the like. {256} Or they pray for something which seems to them good, but really is not so--that they may get rich, for instance, when riches will only be an occasion of sin to them. The prayer seems to them good, but it is not; perhaps even those prayers for vengeance may seem so. But God knows better, and will not, as he says in the Gospel of to-morrow, give us a stone when we ask for what seems to be bread. If anything, he will give better, instead of worse, than what we ask. But really most things that Christians would think of praying for are not bad; but you do not pray for them, because you think that if they are good for you, you will get them, if you try, whether you pray or not. Now, that is the great mistake which our Lord wishes to correct. When he says, "If you ask the Father anything in my name, he will give it you," that means, also, that if you do not ask he will not, or at least not in such abundance. Try, then, to bring this truth home to yourselves and make it practical: that if you want anything the way to get it is to ask it from God, not forgetting, of course, to work for it as well as to pray; for no one prays in earnest who does not do that. And the way not to get it is not to ask for it. Pray, then, for what you want; and of course, before praying, find out what you do want. You want, for instance, to be kept from sin; but what sin? What is the one you are most inclined to? Examine your conscience and find out. Then your prayer will really mean something, especially if it be accompanied by good and strong resolutions against your besetting vices. {257} If you know what you want, and pray for it in Christ's name and in earnest, using all other means to get it, it shall, if it be good, be yours. That is the lesson of our Lord's words in the Gospel of to-day. --------------- Sermon LXXV. _Amen, amen I say to you, if you ask the Father anything in my name, He will give it you._ St. John xvi. 23. These words must be true, my brethren, for it is the Eternal Truth who has spoken them. And yet I dare say you cannot see how they are. You have often, perhaps, asked God for something which you wanted, and put our Lord's name to your prayers, and yet you have not got the thing on which your heart was set. Well, let us see what is the matter; why it is that our experience seems to contradict our faith. It may be that, though the words seem plain, we do not understand them aright. Perhaps we are under a mistake as to what is meant by asking in the name of Christ. Let us consider what is really the common and natural sense of asking for anything in somebody else's name. What should we ourselves mean by it? Suppose I say to one of you: "If you ask Mr. So-and so for such a position or employment in my name you will get it," what do I mean? I mean that his regard for me is such that, if you have my name to support you, he will give it to you for my sake. Well, now, this is, as it seems to me, what our Lord means by his promise. The sense of it is: "The Father loves me so much that if you have my name to support your prayers--that is, if I wish that you should have what you ask for--he will give it to you for my sake." {258} What it comes to, then, is this: If we ask the Father for anything _really_ in the name of Christ--that is, if our Lord really endorses our prayer--we shall have it. "Well," perhaps you may say, "it seems to me that does not amount to much. Will not God give us what our Lord approves of, any way, whether we ask it or not? I don't see what we gain by praying, if that is all." There, my friends, you labor under a great mistake. The Father wants Christ's name, but he wants your prayer, too. Some things, it is true, you have got without praying; but there are many which you have not got, but which you might have had if you had added your own prayer to the name of our Lord. I do not believe, for instance, that you ever asked in his name to be rich. And yet it is quite possible that you might have done so. If he knew that it would be good for yourself and others for you to have money, if he knew that you would make a good use of it, he would have put his name to your request. So you might, perhaps, have been much richer than you are; perhaps it was only the prayer for it on your part that was wanting. If it could have been made in the name of Christ--that is, with his approval--it would have been effectual. It is very likely that he would, for good reasons, have refused to give his name to such a prayer. Still it would be worth while to try. It is always worth while to try praying for anything that is not in itself bad; we may be able to get Christ's name for it, who knows? And if we do not pray for what we want we will not be nearly so likely to get it. {259} There are some things, though, that we can be sure to have his name for, and which are besides much better than worldly goods. Those are the virtues with which our souls ought to be adorned--our true riches, the riches of the soul. Pray for these, then, with full confidence that he will endorse your prayer. But when you pray for them work for them too. He will not give you either spiritual or temporal riches if you sit still and fold your hands, and wait for them to drop into your lap. A prayer which is not in earnest is no prayer at all; and no prayer is in earnest if the one who makes it is not trying to get what he wants in every way open to him. Now, I hope you see that our Lord's promise is a real and true one; for by it we can get many, very many things which otherwise we never can have. And I hope you see that it is a most generous one; for by it we can have everything that is really good. Could you possibly ask anything more? ------------------------------ {260} _Sunday within the Octave of the Ascension_. Epistle. 1 _St. Peter iv._ 7-11. Dearly beloved: Be prudent, and watch in prayers. But before all things have a mutual charity among yourselves: for charity covereth a multitude of sins. Using hospitality one towards another without murmuring. As every man hath received grace, ministering the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. If any man speak, let him speak as the words of God. If any man minister, let it be as from the power which God administereth: that in all things God may be honored through Jesus Christ our Lord. Gospel. _St. John xv_. 26-_xvi_. 4. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: When the Paraclete shall come whom I will send you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceedeth from the Father, he shall give testimony of me. And you shall give testimony, because you are with me from the beginning. These things have I spoken to you, that you may not be scandalized. They will put you out of the synagogues: yea, the hour cometh that whosoever killeth you, will think that he doeth a service to God. And these things will they do to you, because they have not known the Father, nor me. But these things I have told you, that when the hour of them shall come, you may remember that I told you. -------------- Sermon LXXVI. _Charity covereth a multitude of sins_. --1 St. Peter iv. 8. {261} Those words are from the Epistle appointed for this Sunday, and St. Peter, when he wrote them, meant that a man who gets his heart full of charity is sure to be truly penitent for his sins, no matter how many they may have been, and will thus win the mercy of God and receive full pardon for them. St. Peter's words are quite a popular saying. You will hear all sorts of people quote them with evident satisfaction and belief in their truth. But do they all mean just what I have said _he_ meant? I am not so sure that they do. I fear that some think that giving a few dollars to the poor (which they call charity) is a convenient way of throwing a cloak over a multitude of sins--covering them up, as it were--and hiding them rather than getting rid of them. I know the Scripture says also that "almsgiving redeems the soul from death," and tells the sinner to "redeem his sins with alms and his iniquities with works of mercy to the poor." But the Catholic doctrine is that charity must prompt the almsgiving in order to work the miracle of pardon. It is not the money or the clothing, the food or the fire, given to those who need, which compounds for sins and buys pardon at a cheap rate; but the virtue of divine charity, a Christ-like love of God and of our neighbors, that wipes out the judgment of condemnation and cleanses the guilty stains from the soul. The giving of alms to the suffering poor is certainly one of the first things that a sinner who is trying to get back, or has already got back, the love of God will set himself to do; and it is the very sacrifice of his goods for God's sake and for God's love that proves he wants to have done with his sins, and that he is anxious to do penance for them. It would be the greatest folly in the world for a man to give alms _for his sins_, if he was not trying to do so for the love of God. {262} It is all very well and very benevolent to help a poor wretch with food and raiment because we do not like to see a fellow human being suffer. But thieves, and adulterers, and drunkards, and Easter-duty breakers, and all sorts of sinners who have no intention whatever of stopping their sinful career will do that; and when they say, "Charity covereth a multitude of sins," they are very well content to have their benevolence accounted as a set-off to their sins. But mere benevolence is not charity, and to think it is would be a very great mistake. St. Paul says that a man may distribute all his goods to feed the poor, and yet not have charity. So then, dear brethren, if you want your almsgiving to be profitable to your own soul as well as helpful to your suffering neighbor, stop your sins and begin to be, first of all, a little generous with God. Give him what he is constantly knocking at the door and begging for--your heart, your love. Then you will have the charity that covereth a multitude of sins, even before you give the poor a cent. Get into the love of God, and then the love of your neighbor for God's sake will follow of itself. You will then feed and clothe and comfort the poor, not only because you pity them, but because you love them. Then will God love you and forgive you your sins. Now that we have a just idea of charity, you see how it is to be exercised in a great many more ways than in almsgiving. You will easily forgive your neighbor his offences against you; you will hold no spite or revenge in your heart. If he has disgraced himself you will not go and tell all your acquaintances of it, but will jealously hide it and excuse it, and help him out of his trouble. {263} Thus the charity you have will not only cover a multitude of your own sins, but a multitude of your neighbor's sins as well. When you forgive in charity you will forgive out and out, as God does, and hold no grudge afterwards. O my dear Christians! try to learn this lesson and lay it to heart. Strive after this divine love; pray for it; ask Our Blessed Lady and all the saints to help you obtain it; your salvation depends on it. I say it again: your salvation depends on it. "Charity covereth a multitude of sins." Yes; but nothing else will cover even _one_ sin. Without the love of God there is no contrition; without contrition there is no absolution; without absolution you are lost! Think well on this. ---------------------- Sermon LXXVII. _Before all things, have a mutual charity among yourselves; for charity covereth a multitude of sins._ --1 St. Peter iv. 8. What does St. Peter mean, my brethren, by these words? How does charity cover a multitude of sins? Well, it covers our own sins, of course--that is, it helps us to obtain their forgiveness, and it atones for them when they have been forgiven. There is no better way to obtain mercy from God than to show it to others. But then all the virtuous acts which we can do have the same effect to some extent; so I think that the sins which St. Peter speaks of are not our own merely, but also those of others. And it is a special effect of charity to cover the sins of others; it seems, then, that it is charity as shown in this way that the apostle here urges on us. {264} It is not a very common kind of charity, either, this of covering other people's sins. Some, indeed, seem to think that the sins of their neighbors ought not to be covered. They do not appear to understand that every one has a real right that his sins should remain unknown; that it is not only uncharitable but unjust to mention them to those who do not know them already. No; as soon as they hear a piece of news to any one's disadvantage they are not easy till they have told it to their whole circle of acquaintance; the idea of covering it up, of not letting it go any farther, of saving their neighbor's character never occurs to them. If they feel pretty sure that it is true, that is enough to remove all scruple about telling it. But this telling about people's sins is a sin, as I have said, not only against charity but against justice. Charity goes a good deal farther than that. It covers sins not only from other people's eyes, but even from our own. That is what St. Paul says about it. He says: "Charity thinketh no evil"--that is to say, it does not see sin in other people; it puts the best construction on their actions. How rare it is to find any one who thoroughly practises charity of this kind! For instance, somebody tells something about you which you know to be false; do you put the best construction on this? No, you put the very worst you can. You say to yourself: "He, or she, did that out of malice. He knew very well that what he said was not true, and said it to slander me, out of pure spite." You never stop to think that he maybe laboring under a false impression--may really think that what he says is true, and that he is, moreover, justified in saying it. {265} You never make any allowance for the passion he may be under which has blinded his judgment; you never think of the provocations he may have had, or may at least fancy that he has had. The utmost you do is to say: "Well, I do not wish him any evil; I forgive him the injury he has done me." And if you have said that, which ought to be a matter of course, you look upon yourself as a great Christian hero. Try to learn, then, that charity means more than forgiving sins. It means _excusing_ them--finding out, if possible, some reason which may show that what seems to be a sin was not really so. You are ready enough to excuse your own sins; to say, "I could not help it," or "I did not mean any harm." Why don't you say the same thing for somebody else? Throw the veil of charity over the faults of others--if they have sinned it will do you no good to know it--and take it off from your own, which you ought to know a great deal better than you do. By the charity of covering other people's sins from your own eyes you will cover your own from the eyes of God. ----------------- Sermon LXXVIII. _Before all things, have a mutual charity among yourselves; for charity covereth a multitude of sins._ --1 St. Peter iv. 8. Nothing is more frequently or more forcibly commanded by our Lord and his apostles than fraternal charity. Mind well the text: "_Before all things_", says St. Peter, "have a mutual charity among yourselves." In fact, if you give a little attention to your daily thoughts, words, and deeds, you will find that the burden of your daily sins is uncharitableness in one form or another. {266} It was want of fraternal charity that brought about murder on the very morning of this world's life. Hatred came between the first two brothers of our race, and the result was the murder of the innocent Abel. A preacher who lived some three hundred years ago--they had a quaint way of telling plain truths in those days--said in a sermon, and was willing to wager, that the first thing that Adam and Eve did after eating the apple was to quarrel, to have a downright good dispute, which was only continuing, in another way, the first sin. Samson slew a thousand Philistines "with a jawbone, even the jawbone of an ass." How many reputations are destroyed in a like manner!--for a wise man knows how to hold his tongue. What a heaven on earth our homes and our social circles would be, if a constant mutual charity was kept up between husband and wife, brothers and sisters, and acquaintances! "With charity," said St. Gregory, "man is to man a god; without charity man is to man a wild beast." It may seem rather bold of St. Peter to say that charity should be had "_before all things_"; but he gives a good reason for his assertion, and a very consoling one it is for us: "for charity covereth a multitude of sins." We all have, God knows, a multitude of sins on our souls; anything that will take them away, rid us of them, cover them up from God's sight, is of the greatest possible benefit to us. Now, this is just what charity does. How? It is said that love is blind; charity blinds us to the defects and sins of our neighbor--in fact, covers them up either by excusing, or by bearing patiently, or by forgiving the sins and offences of others. {267} "Charity," says St. Paul, "is patient, is kind, charity envieth not, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity, beareth all things, endureth all things." But in thus covering the sins of others how does charity cover our own? Remember your "Our Father": "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." Here is a contract between you and God; you stake the forgiveness from God of your sins on your forgiveness of the sins of others. If, therefore, from a motive of charity you cover the sins of others, God will cover your sins; they will stand no more before him and against you. "Well, well, dear father," it is often said to us, "forgive, yes; but I will never forget." My dear friend, you remind me of the beggar who, seeing a gentleman put his hand in his pocket, fervently exclaimed, "May the blessing of God follow you," and then, seeing that it was the smallest of coins that was handed to him, added no less fervently, "and never overtake you!" To _forgive really_ is to forget. We are to forgive as God forgives; that is the bargain, is it not? Now, God forgets our sins; they are for ever wiped out of his memory. Remembrances of offences are temptations that you must hunt down as you would impure thoughts; you must try to forget, else you do not forgive. Next Sunday we celebrate the descent of the Holy Ghost. The Holy Ghost is the spirit of love, the outcome of the mutual charity of the Father and the Son. Pray to him that he may put in your hearts the true virtue of Christian charity. ------------------ {268} _Feast of Pentecost, or Whit-Sunday_. Epistle. _Acts ii._ 1-11. When the days of the Pentecost were accomplished, they were all together in the same place: and suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a mighty wind coming, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. And there appeared to them cloven tongues as it were of fire, and it sat upon every one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and they began to speak with divers tongues, according as the Holy Ghost gave them to speak. Now there were dwelling at Jerusalem, Jews, devout men out of every nation under heaven. And when this voice was made, the multitude came together, and was confounded in mind, because that every one heard them speak in his own tongue. And they were all amazed and wondered, saying: Behold, are not all these who speak, Galileans? And how have we every one heard our own tongue wherein we were born? Parthians, and Medes, and Elamites, and inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphilia, Egypt and the parts of Libya about Cyrene, and strangers of Rome, Jews also, and proselytes, Cretes and Arabians: we have heard them speak in our own tongues the wonderful works of God. Gospel. _St. John xiv_. 23-31. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: If any one love me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him, and make our abode with him. He that loveth me not, keepeth not my words. And the word which you have heard is not mine, but the Father's who sent me. {269} These things have I spoken to you, remaining with you. But the Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring all things to your mind, whatsoever I shall have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you: not as the world giveth do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be afraid. You have heard that I have said to you: I go away, and I come again to you. If you loved me, you would indeed be glad, because I go to the Father: for the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you before it come to pass; that when it shall come to pass, you may believe. Now I will not speak many things with you. For the prince of this world cometh, and in me he hath not anything. But that the world may know that I love the Father: and as the Father hath given me commandment, so I do. ------------------ Sermon LXXIX. _The Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things._ --St. John xiv. 26. Today, my dear friends, as you know, we celebrate the descent of the Holy Ghost upon the apostles. It was, of all the wonderful works that God has wrought for the salvation of men, in one way the most extraordinary and miraculous; for it was an immediate and evident change, not in the material world, but in the spiritual--that is, in the souls of those upon whom the Holy Spirit thus came. In a moment they became entirely different men from what they had been before. {270} What was this change which was worked in the souls of the apostles? It was, as we commonly regard it, an infusion of supernatural courage and strength. Before they had been hiding themselves, hardly daring to appear in public, still less to preach the Gospel, or even to profess themselves Christians; but now they came forth boldly, ready not only to be known as followers of Christ, but also to suffer all things for his sake. There was, however, another change worked in them in that moment; and it is the one which our Lord predicted in the words which I have taken from the Gospel of this day. "The Holy Ghost," said he, "will teach you all things." What was the meaning of this promise, and what was its fulfilment? Did our Lord mean that the Holy Ghost would teach the apostles all the truths of natural science; that they should become great chemists, geographers, or mechanics; that they should know how to construct steam-engines or telegraphic cables? By no means. These things are in themselves of little importance, and would have had no direct bearing on the work to which St. Peter and his companions were called. No; the things which the Holy Ghost was to teach them, and did teach them on the day of Pentecost, were spiritual things--those things which concerned the salvation of their own souls, and of the other souls which were committed to their charge. In an instant they became learned in the mysteries of the kingdom not of nature but of grace; they became in a moment great saints and doctors of theology. They knew at once what others, superior to them in natural gifts, have not been able to acquire after long years of study and prayer. They were miraculously prepared to do the work of infallible founders and teachers of the Church of God. {271} It was a wonderful promise of Christ to them, and wonderful was its fulfilment. But are we merely to admire it in them, or have we too a share in it? We have a share in it. Yes, though the promise in its fulness was only made to them, all of us, even the humblest, can claim it for ourselves. The Holy Ghost will teach us also all spiritual things, if we will only listen to his voice--not suddenly or miraculously as to them, but none the less surely. He has already taught to millions of the faithful children of the church, though they were ignorant of that natural science which the world values, what the most learned and able men have died without knowing. He will teach us all things, but we must listen to his voice. Where, then, is that voice to be heard? First, it is to be heard in the voice of the church itself, which speaks in his name and by his power. You can hear it in the words of your Holy Father the Pope, the successor of the apostles, and in those of your bishop and of your pastors. You can also hear it in good books, published with the authority and approval of the church. Lastly, you can hear it in your own souls. The Holy Ghost is always speaking there, but it is with a gentle and low voice; and if you would hear it pride and passion must be still. It is in silence and in prayer that you will learn those things which he has to teach you. Listen, then, to the voice of God, of the spirit of wisdom, of understanding, of counsel, and of knowledge, which you have received in Confirmation, and which dwells in your souls; and our Divine Lord's promise shall certainly be fulfilled in you. ------------------- {272} Sermon LXXX. _If any one love me he will keep my word_. --St. John xiv. 23. There are some people who have a great deal of what they call devotion, and there are others who seem to have very little or none at all. The hearts of the first are filled, one would think, with the love of God. They are never so happy as when at church, assisting at Mass or some other service, or on their knees before their altar at home. They say as many prayers every day as would make up the office which a priest is bound to recite, or perhaps even more. Some other people, on the contrary, find it a hard matter to say any prayers. Their minds wander, they cannot tell why. They do not care much about coming to church; they come, though, for all that. But it is all uphill work with them; and they think they are in a very bad way, and are tempted to envy those who seem to be getting along so much better. But is it certain that those whom they are tempted to envy are, in reality, in so much better a state? No, I do not think it is. Of course it is a good sign for any one to like to pray. It is much better to have a taste for that than for the pleasures of the world. But it does not certainly follow that one who likes to pray really loves God very much. He may like it because he is paid for it; that is, because he gets rewarded for it in a way that others do not. He may like it in the same way that a child would like the company of any one who would give him candy. If the supply of candy stops his affection is gone. If, instead of getting candy, he is asked to go on an errand, his feeling will be very different. {273} So one may like to pray because he or she has in prayer a pleasure which would be attractive to any one, even to the greatest sinners. The pleasure may come merely from one's having a lively imagination, and getting what seems to be a vision of heaven when on one's knees or in church. But ask such a person to do something for the one who gives him this pleasure--that is, God--and there will perhaps be a great change. If our Lord, instead of giving candy, proposes him an errand--if he asks a girl, for instance, instead of going to Mass or to Communion, to stay at home and help her mother--the shoe, it may be, will begin to pinch immediately. The others, who have little of what is called devotion, may stand this trial much better. They may be willing not only to give up prayer, which they are not so fortunate as to like, but other things which they really do, if it is the will of God. They pray because it is God's will, and because they know it will bring them nearer to him, and they will do anything else that he wishes them to do for the same reason. Now, do not misunderstand me. I do not mean that all those who do not like to pray are better than those who do; far from it. But I do mean that real devotion which is the same as a true love of God, is what our Lord sets before us in the words of to-day's Gospel which I have read. "If any one love me," he says, "he will keep my word"; that is, "he will do what I want him to." "You are my friends," he says in another place, "if you do the things that I command you." That is true devotion, to have our will the same as God's will; to be willing to sacrifice everything for him, even the pleasure we may find in his society. {274} So I mean that a person who has none of what is called devotion, but who does what he understands to be God's will, and avoids what is contrary to it, is much more acceptable in his sight than one who has what is called devotion, and gives up God's will to satisfy it. Thus, for instance, any one of you, my brethren, who has not been to Holy Communion since Lent began, and who really wants to please God, will go this week, before the time of the Easter-duty runs out, and not wait for Corpus Christi, which comes in the next week. That is just now a special good example; try and remember it. If any one wants to commit a mortal sin, let him put off his Easter-duty till Corpus Christi and the Forty Hours, for devotion's sake. Real devotion is to remember God's words and obey them at any cost. This is the true way, as he also says in to-day's Gospel, to induce him and his Father to really come to us and make their abode with us; and to have the Holy Ghost, who proceeds from them, enter into our hearts, though we may not feel his presence, as the apostles did on the first Pentecost day. ----------------- Sermon LXXXI. _Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be afraid._ --St. John xiv. 27. Our Lord spoke these words to his apostles before his Passion, but they were not to have effect till after his ascension into heaven. It was not his will that they should have the courage and confidence to which he here exhorts them till that time which we celebrate to-day, when the Holy Ghost came upon them and fitted them for the great work to which they were appointed. {275} Even while our Lord was with them after his resurrection, and still more after he had ascended and left them to themselves, they were anxious and fearful, not daring to call themselves his disciples or to risk anything for his sake. But when they received the Holy Ghost all this was changed. They confessed Christ openly; all their doubts and fears were gone; and "they rejoiced," as we read in the Acts, "that they were accounted worthy to suffer reproach for the name of Jesus. And they ceased not every day, in the temple and from house to house, to teach and preach Christ Jesus." Now, we ought to imitate their conduct after Pentecost, and not that before. For we have not the excuse that they had before that time. We have received the Holy Ghost, as they did. He has not come on us visibly in fiery tongues, but he has come just as really and truly in the sacrament of confirmation which we have received. There is no reason for us to be troubled or afraid; when the Holy Ghost came into our hearts he brought courage and confidence with him; he brought them to each one of us, as he did to the holy apostles. And he gave this courage and confidence to each of us for the same reason as to them, because we have all to be apostles in our own way and degree. We have not all got to preach Christ publicly, as they did, but we have all got to speak a word for him when the proper occasion comes. We have not all got to die for Christ, as they did, but we have got to suffer something for the sake of our faith in him, and that quite often, too, it may be. {276} We have a real duty in this matter; we shall be rewarded if we fulfil it, and punished if we do not. It was not for his apostles only but for each one of us that those words of his were meant: "Every one that shall confess me before men, I will also confess him before my Father who is in heaven; but he that shall deny me before men. I will also deny him before my Father who is in heaven." And yet how often must it be acknowledged, to our shame and disgrace, that Christians do deny their Lord and Master before men! I do not mean that they deny their faith, and say they are not Catholics when they are asked; this, thank God! though it does happen, is not so very common. But is it not common enough to find young Catholic men and women with whom one might associate for years and never suspect them to be Catholics, and, in fact, be quite sure that they were not?--and this not merely because they do not parade their religion, but because they do not defend it when it is attacked; because they agree with, and even express, all sorts of infidel, heretical, false, and so-called liberal opinions, that they may not give offence; or even, perhaps, without any sort of need, but only to win favor for themselves by falling in with the fashion of those with whom they associate. And how often, again, do Christians, even if they do stand up for their faith, cast contempt on it in the eyes of the world by acting and talking just as if it had no power over their lives, and was never meant to have any! They curse, and swear, and talk immodestly, just as those do who do not profess to believe in God and Christ, and even, perhaps worse. {277} Or if they do not go so far as this, they laugh at profanity and impurity, and make companions of those who are addicted to these vices; and this they do, not because they really wish to do or to sanction such things, but merely from a miserable weakness that prevents them from facing a little contempt and unpopularity. What would they do, if called on to shed their blood for Christ, who cannot bear even to be laughed at a little for being practical Catholics? They are like cowardly soldiers who run away from a battle at the first smoke from the enemy's guns. You know what a shame it is for a soldier to be a coward. And now try to remember, dear Christians, especially on this holy day, that a Christian has got to be a soldier, and that if he is a coward he disgraces himself and his cause. The Holy Ghost is given to us in confirmation that we may not be weak and cowardly, but strong and perfect Christians, and true soldiers of Jesus Christ. If you have not yet received him in this way make haste to do so; if you have, make use of the graces which he has given you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid; there is nothing to be afraid of, for God is on your side. Do not fear but rather count it a joy to suffer a little persecution for his name. ------------------ {278} _Trinity Sunday_. Epistle. _Romans xi._ 33-36. O the depth of the riches, of the wisdom, and of the knowledge of God! How incomprehensible are his judgments, and how unsearchable his ways! For who hath known the mind of the Lord? Or who hath been his counsellor? Or who hath first given to him, and recompense shall be made to him? For of him, and by him, and in him, are all things. To him be glory for ever. Amen. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxviii._ 18-20. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: All power is given to me in heaven and on earth. Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations: baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you; and behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world. Last Gospel. _St. Luke vi._ 36-42. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: Be ye merciful, as your Father also is merciful. Judge not, and you shall not be judged. Condemn not, and you shall not be condemned. Forgive, and you shall be forgiven. Give, and it shall be given to you: good measure and pressed down, and shaken together and running over, shall they give into your bosom. For with the same measure that you shall measure it shall be measured to you again. And he spoke also to them a similitude: Can the blind lead the blind? do they not both fall into the ditch? The disciple is not above his master; but every one shall be perfect, if he be as his master. And why seest thou the mote in thy brother's eye, but the beam that is in thy own eye thou considerest not? {279} or how canst thou say to thy brother, Brother, let me pull the mote out of thy eye, when thou thyself seest not the beam in thy own eye? Thou hypocrite, cast first the beam out of thy own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to take out the mote from thy brother's eye. -------------- Sermon LXXXII. _Teach all nations: baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost._ --St. Matthew xxviii. 19. The mystery of the Most Blessed Trinity is one of those wonderful truths of our holy faith which form the foundation of the Christian religion. He who does not believe in the Trinity cannot call himself a Christian; neither can any one be a Christian unless he is baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. We are taught to make acts of profession of this mystery oftener than of any other. We do so every time we make the sign of the cross; and there are very few Catholics who do not make that sign more than once every day. Every one should know what is meant by the Trinity. There is but one God, who is the infinite, eternal, almighty, all-wise, all-good, and all-just Being who created all things that exist. But God, who is one in his Divine Being, is a Trinity in person. That is, he is three persons. These persons are named Father, Son, Holy Ghost. God is, then, Father, and he is Son, and he is Holy Ghost. These three persons are the same God. So, if there were three men praying to God, one praying to the Father, a second to the Son, and the third to the Holy Ghost, they would all be praying to the same God. {280} How there can be more than one person in one being is a mystery to us, because we have no knowledge of any other being but God who has more than one person. But now this truth is revealed to us, we know, by our faith, which is divine knowledge, that there are three persons in God, and are sure also that God must, as a Divine Being, have three persons, because God cannot be other than he is. Let us help our minds to understand this by a comparison. Suppose a tower built in such a shape that it has three sides. Now, there are _three_ distinct sides and only _one_ tower; and whichever side we look at we see a distinct side which is not either of the other two sides, but we always can say, I see the tower. So, no matter which person of God we regard, it is always the same God. Our holy faith teaches us that God the Father is the Divine Person who created all things, as we say in the Creed: "I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth." It furthermore teaches us that God the Son is the Divine Person who redeemed us by becoming man and dying on the cross, as the words of the Creed declare; and again it teaches us that God the Holy Ghost is the Divine Person who sanctifies us and is the source and giver of all grace. These truths are revealed to us, and we believe them, as we do all mysteries, for the reason we give when we make an act of faith: "O my God! I believe all things taught by the holy Catholic Church, because thou, who canst neither deceive nor be deceived, hast revealed them to her." {281} The Catholic Church is the voice of God to us, and when we hear her we hear God. She lives, and speaks, and acts by the Holy Ghost through Jesus Christ, our Saviour, her Divine Head. The reason some very wise people, very learned in different kinds of science, do not believe in the Trinity and other mysteries of religion as we do is because they do not hear the voice of God in the Catholic Church. It is not by science that we know the Trinity to be true, but by divine faith. This divine faith is a gift of God, which we are bound to nourish in our souls with profound gratitude and humility, for it is a sad truth that this faith may be lost. Catholics lose their faith by their sins, and chiefly by the sin of pride. All heretics and apostates show this in their conduct and in their words. They adhere to their own opinions and refuse to submit to the divine teaching of the church. O dear brethren! let us fear this sin of pride more than all other sin--a temptation, too, that is very apt to come up when we are ridiculed by unbelievers for our faith. Then is the time to confess the truth boldly, for if we deny our Lord before men he will deny us before the face of his Father in heaven. Let us keep our faith by purity of life and humility of heart; for, as says the _Imitation of Christ:_ "What doth it avail thee to discourse profoundly of the Trinity, if thou be wanting in humility, and consequently displeasing to the Trinity? If thou didst know the whole Bible by heart, and the sayings of all the philosophers, what would it profit thee without the love of God and his grace?" ------------------- {282} Sermon LXXXIII. _In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost._ --St. Matthew xxviii. 19. To-day, my dear brethren, the church celebrates the greatest of all the mysteries of our religion: the mystery of the Holy Trinity; of the one God in three Divine Persons--the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. We all believe it; we must believe it if we would be saved. But no one of us can perfectly understand it. St. Patrick, you know, is said to have illustrated it to his converts by showing them the shamrock with its three leaves on one stem; but, of course, he never pretended that this was a perfect explanation of it. No perfect explanation of it can be given to us. And why not? Is it because it really has no explanation? No, but because we are not able to understand the one which might be given. Explain the solar system to a child of five years: will he understand you? It is something the same with us and this greater mystery of God. Some people, especially at the present day, who consider themselves very wise, say to themselves and to others: "Oh! this doctrine of the Trinity cannot be true." Ask them why not, and they will say: "Because we cannot understand it; it seems to us to be nonsense." Well, what does their argument amount to? Just to this: "If the doctrine were true we should understand it; but we don't understand it, therefore it is not true." {283} "If it were true," they say, "we should understand it." And why? "Why, of course, because we are so wise that we can understand everything. It is well enough for stupid people, like those benighted Romanists, to believe what they don't understand, but such a proceeding would be quite below our dignity and intelligence. It is quite absurd to suppose that there is any mystery so deep that we cannot see to the bottom of it." Now, I do not want to accuse these worthy people of any one of the seven capital sins; they are, no doubt, as good as they are wise. But there is something in what they say that looks just a little bit like one of those sins; like the first and most deadly of them all: that is, the sin of pride. And there is not much doubt that pride has in some form or other had something to do with all heresies; so I am afraid that those who deny the Holy Trinity are not quite free from it. You think so, my brethren, I have no doubt. But, after all, are you not perhaps guilty of a little of the same sin yourselves? You believe in the Holy Trinity, it is true, but are there not some other things which you do not fully believe, though you ought to, and for very much the same reason? God has given you the gift of faith; and you are willing to believe what you know to be of faith, even if it be beyond your reason, especially if it be something, like the Holy Trinity, beyond the reason of any one else. But are you not sometimes rather unwilling to believe other matters of religion, for which there is good authority, just because you, with your present lights, do not quite see through them? That is just the trouble with the heretics of whom I have spoken; is it not so with you, too, perhaps? {284} Do you not say even about some of these matters: "Oh! I do not think the same about that as the priests do; they are welcome to their opinion but I claim the right to mine"? It may be some question of morals; then you say: "The priest say so-and-so is not right; but I don't see any harm in it. I have got a conscience of my own." Did it ever occur to you that as God knows more, and has told more to his church about himself than you could have found out, so he may have enlightened it rather more about some other matters in its own sphere than he has enlightened you, even though they are not of faith? And even setting that aside, is it not possible that those who have studied a subject know more about it than those who have not? I think there is only one answer to these questions. Try, then, to have the same humility which you have about the doctrine of the Holy Trinity in other things too. You believe that the officers of a ship know a little more about her position and proper course than you do; make the same presumption in favor of those who are in charge of the bark of St. Peter. It is only reasonable to think so; only showing a little of the same common sense which you show in other things. -------------------------- Sermon LXXXIV. _Why seest thou the mote in thy brother's eye, but the beam that is in thy own eye thou considerest not?_ --St. Luke vi. 41. These words, my dear brethren, are taken from the Gospel of the first Sunday after Pentecost, which is always read at the end of Mass on this day. Of all those which our Divine Lord spoke during his ministry on earth, there are none more practical, none which have a more immediate bearing on our daily lives. {285} There is nothing which shows the perversity of our fallen nature more clearly than the common habit, in which even many persons who are pious in their way continually indulge, of criticising and commenting on the actions and character of others. Some people, indeed, seem to think that there is no harm in talking about the character and conduct of their neighbors, as long as they do not say anything which is not true. This is a great mistake; one hardly needs to stop and reflect for a moment to see that it is a grievous injustice to speak of a sin which another person has actually committed, if it be not known, or at least certain soon to be known in some other way, by the one to whom we speak. So there are many who have sense enough not to make this mistake and who do hold their tongues about the secret sins of others. But there are comparatively few who seem to realize that it is against charity, though not against justice, to speak even of well-known and evident faults of one's neighbors, when there is no good object to be gained by so doing; and, in fact, even to think of them and turn them over in one's mind, for which there can never be any good object. It is to such as these--and there are hosts of them--that our Lord's words are addressed. He does not himself answer the question which he asks in the text; but there is not much difficulty in our answering it ourselves. {286} "Why," then, "seest thou the mote in thy brother's eye, but the beam in thy own eye thou considerest not?" The two always go together. You will always find that just in proportion to a person's watchfulness about others' faults is his carelessness about his own. Why, I say, do you do so? Let us try to find out. Are you so sensitive about your neighbor's faults because they offend God? No, I do not believe that is the reason. If it were you would be a great deal more troubled about your own than you are. If you really cared for God's honor in the matter you would go to work on your own sins, which you really can amend, and not on those of your neighbors, which you only carp at but do not even try to correct. Do not pretend, then, that your habit of finding fault with others comes from a desire that God may be better served. Such a pretence would be only hypocrisy. It is especially to such pretenders that our Saviour says: "Hypocrite, cast first the beam out of thy own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to take out the mote from thy brother's eye." Are you so sensitive about your neighbor's faults, then, because they offend yourself? No, I do not think that can be the reason either--or, at least, not the whole reason; for you are nearly as apt to speak of them when they do not concern you at all. You even take trouble to find out about those which do not come under your own observation. I know that we all have a weakness for noticing unpleasant things when they occur, and passing over those which are agreeable as a matter of course; we complain of the weather when it is bad, and give no thanks when it is fine; we grumble when we have a bad dinner, and say nothing about a good one. But this does not explain the matter entirely, for most of the faults which you notice in others do not hurt you in any way. {287} No; the fact is, it is simply a vice in yourselves which makes your neighbor's faults so glaring in your eyes. And that vice is the great vice of pride. You are trying to exalt yourselves, at least in your own mind, above others, and the easiest way to do it is to try to push them down. This is at the bottom of all this uncharitableness which is the staple of so many people's thoughts and conversation. There is, therefore, only one real remedy for it, only one which strikes at the root of the whole thing: that is to cultivate the virtue which is the opposite of pride, the great virtue of humility. I said just now that as a person is watchful about his neighbor's faults, so is he careless about his own. Well, the rule works both ways. If you will be careful about your own you will not notice those of other people. For you will acquire this virtue of humility. You will appear so bad in your own sight that others will appear good in comparison. And then, when you have cast out this beam of pride from the eye of your own soul, you will indeed be fit to correct others, and not till then. -------------------- {288} _Second Sunday after Pentecost_. and Sunday within the Octave of Corpus Christi. Epistle. 1 _St. John iii._ 13-18. Dearly beloved: Wonder not if the world hate you. We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love the brethren. He that loveth not, abideth in death. Whosoever hateth his brother, is a murderer. And you know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in himself. In this we have known the charity of God, because he hath laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. He that hath the substance of this world, and shall see his brother in need, and shall shut up his bowels from him: how doth the charity of God abide in him? My little children, let us not love in word, nor in tongue, but in deed and in truth. Gospel. _St. Luke xiv._ 16-24. At that time: Jesus spoke to the Pharisees this parable: A certain man made a great supper, and invited many. And he sent his servant at supper-time to say to them that were invited that they should come, for now all things are ready. And they began all at once to make excuse. The first said to him: I have bought a farm, and I must needs go out and see it; I pray thee, have me excused. And another said: I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to try them; I pray thee, have me excused. And another said: I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come. And the servant returning, told these things to his lord. {289} Then the master of the house, being angry, said to his servant: Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in hither the poor and the feeble, and the blind and the lame. And the servant said: Lord, it is done as thou hast commanded, and yet there is room. And the lord said to the servant: Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house may be filled. But I say unto you that none of those men that were called shall taste my supper. ------------ Sermon LXXXV. _A certain man made a great supper, and invited many._ --St. Luke xiv. 16. If there could be any question about what kind of a "great supper" our Lord meant in the parable all doubt is removed by reading the Gospel, which tells us that some one of the persons to whom he was speaking had just said: "Blessed is he who shall eat bread in the kingdom of God." We know how to interpret the parable. The "great supper" is the divine banquet of Holy Communion, in which we receive the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. On another occasion our Lord said: "I am the bread that came down from heaven. If any man eat of this bread he shall live for ever, and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world." The parable of the "great supper" is, therefore, very appropriately chosen as the Gospel for this Sunday in the octave of the magnificent and triumphal festival of Corpus Christi. This festival is also well placed in the calendar of the church, coming as it does, at the end of all the solemn commemorations of the divine life and person of our Lord. For the institution of the Blessed Sacrament is the greatest act of his love; the consummation and fulfilment of his love. {290} "Having loved his own, he loved them unto the end." He is present in this divine mystery because he would be present with us and give himself to us, and unite himself to us in the most intimate manner. He promised that he would live in us, and we in him and be one with him. In the Blessed Sacrament he makes that life and union a reality. Before the altars of his holy church, therefore, he spreads the holy table for his "great supper," and he invites many to the banquet. Such an invitation, we would think, does not need much urging to bring in the guests--_all_ the guests--as quickly and as frequently as he desires. And yet, as he tells us in the parables, and as we see and hear ourselves, there are many who make little of his invitation, and either do not come at all or come with such reluctance or so seldom that it is plain they are acting more from fear of punishment than from a motive of love. It is true that those who do not come when he calls are far from daring to say that it is not worth coming to, but they act very much as if they thought so. They have other friends who invite them to their feasts, and as they think more of these friends than they do of Jesus Christ, and relish their food more than they do his, they send in their excuses to him. These excuses are paltry enough. One has bought a farm and must go and see it; another has purchased five yoke of oxen--this is just the time he must go and try them; a third has just got married, and so on. Any excuse for not coming to Communion seems good enough for some Catholics, who want to keep friends and company with the world, the flesh, and the devil, and eat their dishes of avarice, lust, and pride. {291} I don't wonder they stay away; for let a man get his heart full of avarice, or burning with lust, or puffed up with pride, the very idea of Holy Communion is wearisome and distasteful to him. But there is a dreadful warning in the parable. _The excuses are not taken_; and he who sets forth the banquet declares that none of such men shall eat of his supper; and he makes that threat in anger. Woe, then, to those Easter-duty breakers who heard the invitation and came not! They have incurred the anger of the Lord. To pass by the Easter duty out of contempt for it, or because one is unwilling to give up the sins that he knows make him unfit to make it, is to commit a mortal sin. And when I see some persons who know their duty, and have every opportunity, neglecting their Easter Communion for years, and appearing to be perfectly hardened against every appeal and argument made to them, I am always fearful lest the Lord is not only angry with them, but that he is carrying out his threat that he will never invite them again, and that they will die some day without absolution and without Communion. Oh! if there be any such here let them hasten to beg pardon with deep contrition for their past neglect, and earnestly seek for admission to the heavenly banquet. Perhaps it may not be yet too late even for them. I know it is the eleventh hour, but the Lord invites some to come even at the eleventh hour. But they must not wait longer! At midnight the door will be shut, and the only answer they will get then is; "It is too late; I know you not!" God grant that such a curse of banishment from the eternal Communion of heaven shall never be addressed to one of us! --------------- {292} Sermon LXXXVI. _And they began all at once to make excuse._ --St. Luke xiv. 18. Notice the words, my brethren. Our Lord does not say that these men whom the master of the house invited to supper all happened to have an excuse, but that they began all at once to make one. They gave various flimsy reasons why they could not come-- reasons that anybody could see would not have prevented them from coming if they had wanted to, but were merely given in order to avoid telling the plain truth, which was that they did not care a straw for the one who had invited them or for the supper that he proposed to give. Well, now, what did our Saviour mean by this story which I have read you in the Gospel?--for he certainly did not tell it simply for the amusement of his disciples. It was a parable, and had a spiritual signification, or more than one. I think there cannot be much doubt in our minds about one of them, at least. We cannot help seeing that the supper means the rich banquet to which all of us are invited, and which has been commemorated in the great solemnity of Corpus Christi, through which we have just passed. God himself is the master of the house, and he has invited all of as his friends--that is, all of us who have come by holy baptism into the fold of his church--to come to this great feast, the feast of his own Body and Blood. Not once only but many times he has invited, nay, commanded, you all to come and taste of this supper, which is himself--to receive him in Holy Communion. {293} And what have you done--many of you, at least? You have done exactly what these men did of whom the parable tells us. You have, as soon as the words of invitation came to you, immediately set about to see if you could not find some way of avoiding compliance with them. You have begun all at once to make excuses--excuses as silly as those which the men made in the parable. "Oh!" you say, "I have not got time to approach the sacraments worthily. It's all very well for women, who can run to church whenever they want, but I have got my business to attend to; if I neglect it my family will starve." Humbug! I say--as transparent humbug as that stupid story which the man whom our Lord speaks of had about his farm. "I have bought a farm," says he, "and I must needs go out and see it." That excursion to his farm was got up just to dodge the invitation, which he did not care to accept. It is the same with you. Your business is not so important that it will keep you from the theatre or the liquor-store, but as soon as the service of God is mentioned it becomes urgent all at once. Or perhaps you do not plead any particular business, but you make an excuse like that of the man who said he had married a wife, and therefore could not come. You say: "Piety is very good for priests and religious; but I am living in the world, and can't be good enough to go to Communion." Humbug! {294} I say again; you know very well that there have been plenty of people, who have lived in a much brighter world than is ever likely to be open to you, who have not only made good communions, but made them frequently, and become saints by doing so. Kings and queens have given the lie to your excuse. Are you more in the world than St. Henry, Emperor of Germany; St. Louis, King of France; the two Saints Elizabeth, of Hungary and Portugal; and St. Margaret, Queen of Scotland, whose feast we kept last Tuesday? Don't make any more foolish excuses, then; our Lord, who has invited you to his banquet, will not be deceived by them. Acknowledge the truth, that if you do not come to his supper it is because you do not care for it, or for Him who gives it. But do you dare to say this? I hope not. Do not say it, then. Do what is far better. Come when he calls you. Come, that you may not offend him, as those ungrateful men of whom the parable tells us offended the master of the house. Come, that he may not say to you, as the master of the house said: "Those men who were called shall not taste my supper," not even when they shall desire it at the hour of their death. Come, that your inheritance in the kingdom of heaven may not be taken away from you, and others called in to take the places which you have refused. Come and show love and not base ingratitude to Him who has taken so much pains to prepare this feast for you; this feast which is not only the greatest gift that he can give you now, but also a pledge of the kingdom which has been prepared for such of you as are faithful, from the foundation of the world. ------------------ {295} Sermon LXXXVII. _And they began all at once to make excuse._ --St. Luke xiv. 18. When men are in sin and do not wish to give it up the answer which they commonly make to an invitation of God is an excuse. Excuses! Yes, there are plenty of them. But from what do these men of whom our Lord speaks in this parable wish to be excused? Is it from something painful and humiliating? No, strange to say, it is from a great privilege; it is from a wonderful feast in which men receive the Food of Angels and are made one with God; it is from the feast of the Blessed Sacrament, in which our Blessed Lord offers his own Body and Blood. What! is it possible that one who has the faith and is possessed of reason can slight such a gift from the God who has redeemed him? Listen to the excuse of one: "I have bought a farm." What is a farm? It is dirt. His excuse, then, is that he does not want the Bread of Heaven, because he is occupied with dirt. In a word, he prefers dirt to God. But another man has this excuse for spurning the heavenly banquet: "He has bought five yoke of oxen," and he wants "to go and try them." He declines the company of the saints and angels because he prefers that of oxen. He had rather be with the brutes, because he is much like them himself. His body rules his soul, and he is too much of an animal to care anything about a feast which furnishes only good for the soul. {296} But we hear yet another excuse. Here is a man who "has married a wife, and therefore cannot come." What does this mean? Does he pretend that the holy sacrament of matrimony is keeping him away? But this is not the shadow of an excuse. Ah! if he would speak out his mind clearly he certainly would have an excuse. He means that he cannot come because he is wallowing in the mire of sin. He is too filthy to come. He would have to purify himself. He cannot put on the wedding garment of divine grace and wallow with the swine, so he thinks that he will leave the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ to others and stay where he is. You see, brethren, what it is to offer an excuse when God invites or commands; and these are only fair samples of the excuses which all sinners who seek to justify their conduct make. But what do such excuses denote? They are sure signs of impenitence. Men often make hypocrites of themselves by their excuses. Some even make bad confessions by covering their guilt with an excuse; and a great many show their imperfect sorrow for sin in this way. On the other hand, the man who is sincerely sorry for his sins fears nothing so much as to excuse a fault. He would rather accuse himself of too much than to excuse himself for the least fault. Excuses such as are mentioned in this parable may justify men before the world, but never before God. When our souls come before the Divine Judge all their disguises shall be torn off. Eternal justice shall then reveal all; it shall weigh every motive; it shall judge every act. But what does our Divine Lord say of those who now refuse his invitation to this heavenly banquet? He says: "None of those men who were called shall taste my supper." {297} Those who now receive the sweet invitation of our Blessed Lord to approach the altar will at the hour of death wish for that divine food, which they now treat with so much contempt; but God may then say to them: "You did not come when I invited you, and now you shall not taste my supper." --------------------------- {298} _Third Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 1 _St. Peter v._ 6-11. Dearly beloved: Be you humbled under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in the time of visitation. Casting all your solicitude upon him, for he hath care of you. Be sober and watch; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour. Whom resist ye, strong in faith: knowing that the same affliction befalleth your brethren who are in the world. But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory in Christ Jesus, when you have suffered a little, will himself perfect, and confirm, and establish you. To him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen. Gospel. _St. Luke xv._ 1-10. At that time: The publicans and sinners drew near unto Jesus to hear him. And the Pharisees and the Scribes murmured, saying: This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. And he spoke to them this parable, saying: What man among you that hath a hundred sheep: and if he shall lose one of them, doth he not leave the ninety-nine in the desert, and go after that which was lost until he find it? And when he hath found it, doth he not lay it upon his shoulders rejoicing: and coming home call together his friends and neighbors, saying to them: Rejoice with me, because I have found my sheep that was lost. I say to you, that even so there shall be joy in heaven upon one sinner that doth penance, more than upon ninety-nine just who need not penance. Or what woman having ten groats, if she lose one groat, doth not light a candle and sweep the house and seek diligently until she find it? And when she hath found it, call together her friends and neighbors, saying: Rejoice with me, because I have found the groat which I had lost. So I say to you, there shall be joy before the angels of God upon one sinner doing penance. ----------------------- {299} Sermon LXXXVIII. _Rejoice with me, because I have found my sheep that was lost._ --St. Luke xv. 6. I am sure you have often heard related, if you have not yourselves known, examples of the singular affection which parents show towards the worst behaved child they have, the "black sheep of the flock," as their neighbors call him, or her, as the case may be--some wretched, ungrateful, dissipated son whose disgraceful life and cruel treatment of them fairly breaks their hearts; or some disobedient, wild daughter who is led off and gets ruined. While they are in the height of their bad career the parents are very apt to act as if they wished every tie between them broken. No one dares mention the name of their lost child to them. Instances have been known where the angry parents have blotted out the name of the dishonored one from the record in the family Bible where it was written on the day when he was brought back an innocent child from the font of baptism, and when they have taken the little lock of flaxen hair cut from their darling's head, and kept so many years as a treasure, and have scattered it to the winds. But what do we see? There comes a time when things are at their worst, when their poor lost one has reaped the bitter fruits of his disobedience and is in utter misery and despair; then the hearts of the parents are softened; they yearn to see their poor child once more, and all on a sudden there is a reconciliation, all is forgiven and forgotten; the one who was dead has come to life again, and the lost one is found. {300} The parents will not hear one word said against him, but on the contrary, in word and action, say to all their friends: Rejoice with me, because I have found my child that was lost. Now, if we examine into any such a case we shall almost certainly discover that the penitence of the bad child bears no comparison to the greatness of the parents' affection or to the magnanimity of their forgiveness. Very few such repenting sinners are deserving of the joyful pardon they receive. Mercy is always a mystery, and pardon ever a miracle. So it is with God and his divine forgiveness of repenting sinners. Our Lord tells us there is joy in heaven over their return. Did you ever know any such case whose repentance you thought was worthy of such celestial rejoicings? Very, very few, I am sure. And how many forgiven sinners, do you think, realize that God loves them so much as that--so much that, when he has brought back to his love and obedience one so unworthy, he should tell all his holy angels of the happy event and bid them rejoice with him? Not many. This truth however, is a most important one which our Lord wishes us to learn. It is the greatness of his mercy and the depth of his love. To tell the honest truth, it is the revelation of God's mercy and love that will bring hardened sinners back, which will win and convert them when nothing else will. We often see the proof of this on our missions, when we find the hardest cases, the most abandoned and hopeless sinners, coming to confession after the sermon on the mercy of God. {301} And who does not know that an appeal made to sinners by showing them the crucifix, where they see their Lord and Saviour dying for his great love, with arms outstretched to receive them back, is an argument few of them can withstand? The sermon of the Cross is one the holy church is always preaching--the sermon of love and mercy. Well, dear brethren, learn this lesson from the Gospel. When you find the burden of sin heavy on you, and your conscience tells you that you have wandered far from God, go before a crucifix and let the love and mercy of your crucified Lord preach to you. There is nothing helps one so much to overcome the horror and shame of going to confession as a few minutes' prayer on one's knees before a crucifix. Are you in temptation and danger of losing God? Kiss the feet of a crucifix and you are saved. Do you want to win and save those who have sinned against you? Preach to them the sermon of mercy and love, in your own way, and, like God, you will win them and convert them, and rejoice with your friends that you have found the lost one again. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ---------------------- Sermon LXXXIX. _Be sober, and watch._ --1 St. Peter v. 8. These few words of the Epistle, my brethren, contain a most important lesson for us. We may indeed say that of all the innumerable souls which have been lost, and which are going down every day into hell, far the greater part have come to this terrible end for neglect of this warning. {302} There is a proverb, with which you are all familiar, that [the road to] hell is paved with good intentions. What does this mean? Does it mean that a good intention in itself is a thing which leads to hell? Of course not. But it means that the kind of good intentions which people are too apt to make are signs rather of damnation than of salvation, as they should be. What is this kind of good intention? It is one which stops just there, and which the one who makes it does not take the means to carry out. Sometimes we call them by a stronger name than intentions. We call them purposes, even firm purposes of amendment. They are the kind of purposes which a great many people make when they repent, or think they repent, of their habitual sins. A man comes to confession with a fearful habit of sin--of profane swearing, for instance. It has been on him for years. He has learned it in his youth, perhaps, from wicked parents or companions. He has almost become unconscious of it, and it seems to him no very important thing; it may be that he would not even mention it, did not the priest question him pretty closely. But when the priest does warn him about it he makes up his mind in a certain way that he ought to stop it, and makes a kind of purpose to do so. It is to be feared, however, that this is one of the purposes or intentions with which hell is paved. And why? Because it stops just there. It has no effect at all. It is all gone before he gets out of the confession-box. He will swear just as much to-morrow as he did to-day. He does not, probably, even remember his purpose, at any rate only till the time of his Communion; or if, perchance, he does remember it, he does not take the means to carry it out. {303} And what is that means above all others? It is to watch against his sin. This he does not do. He does not keep on his guard to avoid those horrible oaths which have become a fixed habit with him. He does not watch himself, and, of course, falls again as he did before. Now you see, perhaps, the importance of St. Peter's warning in the Epistle. Most of you who will be lost will be lost on account of habitual sins like this I have spoken of, not on account of occasional and unusual ones. It may be a habit of impure thoughts or words, of drunkenness, or something else; but it is a habit of some kind that will cause your damnation. The habit is a disease of your soul; you must get rid of it, if you wish to have any well-grounded hope of salvation. And you cannot get rid of it without watching as well as praying. "Watch," says our Lord, "that you enter not into temptation." Yes, a bad habit is a disease of your soul, a weak spot in it which you must guard. It is there your enemy is going to enter. What does St. Peter go on to say? "Be sober, and watch," he says, "for your adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour." Very well; the devil is not such a fool as to neglect your weak points. So it is those which you must watch and guard. If, then, you would be saved, keep before your mind all the time your habitual sins. Be on your guard against them continually, just as a man going on slippery ice is all the time careful how he places his feet. Repeat your resolutions frequently; make them practical and definite. Say to yourself, "Next time I am provoked I will keep down that profane word; next time such an object comes before my eyes I will turn them away; next time such a thought occurs I will instantly repel it." {304} Be on the lookout for danger, as a sailor is for rocks or icebergs in his course. Pray, of course, earnestly and frequently, but watch as well as pray. If you do you will save your soul; if you do not you will lose it. ---------------------- Sermon XC. _There shall be joy in heaven upon one sinner that doth penance, more than upon ninety-nine just who need not penance._ --St. Luke xv. 7. I do not think, my brethren, that there is any parable in the Gospel which comes more home to your own experience than these which you have just heard about the lost sheep and groat. I am sure you have all of you lost something at some time or other; and I am sure, too, that, even though it was not very valuable, you began to think it was when it was lost, and hunted for it high and low. It seemed to you that you cared more for it than for any other article of your property, and that you did not mind much what became of your other things as long as that was missing. That, of course, was not really the case. For, although you seemed to give all your thoughts and energy in searching for the lost article, you cared just as much all the time for what you meanwhile left at home or unnoticed. And if, while you were hunting up one thing, another should get lost, you would start out after that with just as much anxiety as you did for the other. {305} So our Lord spends his time, not only now and then but always, chiefly in hunting after what he has lost, and lets what he has got shift a good deal for itself. Always, I say; for he has always lost something. He keeps losing things all the time. The sheep keep straying away from his fold continually. As soon as one is brought back another has gone, and he has to set out in pursuit of it. And meanwhile the sheep in the fold do not seem to get as much care and attention as they think they deserve for their obedience and general good behavior. Now, this is an important thing for the sheep to understand, both for those who have not strayed away and for those who have. Those who are faithful must be contented with his absence, and those who are not should thank him and reward him for his labor for them. Those who need no penance--that is, those who remain habitually in the state of grace--are apt to say: "Why is it that religion does not give me more happiness? Why is it that I have so little devotion and that God seems so far away?" Well, the reason is because he is away. He is off hunting for sinners. He is giving them his chief attention and his choicest graces because they need them. The just can get along with the sacraments, which are always open to them, and with the other ordinary means of salvation. Or you say, perhaps: "Why is it that the best preachers and confessors among the fathers are out on the mission, so that we seldom or never see or hear them?" Well, that is for the same reason. Our Lord sends them out on the hunt in which he is so much interested. Surely you will not find fault with him. You will not deprive him of his greatest joy--that of bringing sinners back--for the sake of offering him a little more devotion, which he does not care so much about. {306} No, you will rather be faithful, and do your duty in the place where he has put you, and be very thankful that you are not among the lost, and perhaps one among them who will never be found. And surely those who have strayed away and whom he is seeking, when they come to think of it, will try to give him the consolation which he takes so much trouble to secure. They will not let him spend all his time on them and get nothing for it in return. No, they will not hide from him any longer; they will give themselves to him, never to stray again; and be the occasion of a joy in heaven which shall not be merely for a moment, but which shall last for evermore. ------------------- {307} _Fourth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Romans viii._ 18-23. Brethren: I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come, that shall be revealed in us. For the expectation of the creature waiteth for the revelation of the sons of God. For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him that made it subject, in hope: because the creature also itself shall be delivered from the servitude of corruption into the liberty of the glory of the children of God. For we know that every creature groaneth, and is in labor even till now. And not only it, but ourselves also, who have the first-fruits of the spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption of the sons of God, the redemption of our body, in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. Luke v._ 1-11. At that time: When the multitudes pressed upon Jesus to hear the word of God, he stood by the lake of Genesareth. And he saw two ships standing by the lake: but the fishermen were gone out of them, and were washing their nets. And going up into one of the ships that was Simon's, he desired him to thrust out a little from the land. And sitting down, he taught the multitudes out of the ship. Now when he had ceased to speak, he said to Simon: Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught. And Simon answering, said to him: Master, we have labored all the night, and have taken nothing: but at thy word I will let down the net. And when they had done this, they enclosed a very great multitude of fishes, and their net was breaking. And they beckoned to their partners that were in the other ship, that they should come and help them. {308} And they came, and filled both the ships, so that they were almost sinking; which when Simon Peter saw, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying: Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, Lord. For he was wholly astonished, and all that were with him, at the draught of the fishes which they had taken. And so were also James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were Simon's partners. And Jesus saith to Simon: Fear not, from henceforth thou shalt be taking men. And when they had brought their ships to land, leaving all things, they followed him. ---------------------- Sermon XCI. _And sitting down, he taught the multitudes out of the ship._ --St. Luke v. 3. The ship, as the Gospel tells us, was St Peter's, and our Lord continues to teach his divine doctrine from the same ship. This ship of St. Peter is the Catholic Church. Its captain is the Pope, the Vicar of Jesus Christ. He not only guides the ship in its ordinary course, but knows also what special orders to give when particular dangers threaten it. The plain duty of every Catholic is, therefore to receive with obedience the teaching of the Pope, and in times of danger to be on the alert and obey quickly, without hesitation and with perfect confidence. There is no fear for the ship herself, no matter what storms may arise. The danger is for those who are in her, and each one's safety depends upon his prompt obedience. There are some Catholics who appear to think that because the ship is always safe they are safe too, no matter how they behave. {309} Alas! this is often a fatal mistake. Christ teaches by the mouth of Peter, and their salvation depends upon their listening to what is taught, and learning the lessons of faith and morality which fall from his lips. But what do we see? We see many who remain so ignorant of their religion that they ought to be ashamed to call themselves Catholics. There is plenty of instruction given, but they take no pains to hear it. Year in and year out they never come to a sermon or instruction. They never think of reading a good religious book or a Catholic newspaper. They have time to go to some immoral play at the theatre, they read the trashy, beastly stuff that is served up daily and weekly to pander to depraved appetites such as theirs, but of their sublime, true, and holy religion, which should be a light to their minds and a comfort to their hearts, they know next to nothing. They let their children grow up in the like ignorance, who are swift to follow the bad example set before them. Now, the chief duty of a Catholic is to learn what his religion teaches, and it is a grievous sin to neglect the opportunities one has to acquire that knowledge. The devil is busy scattering the seed of false doctrine, and keeping his agents at work telling all sorts of lies about God and Jesus Christ and the Catholic Church, and it is not possible for one to keep his faith pure unless he takes care to learn all he has the chance to learn of the truths of his holy religion. Then, again, see how anxious people are nowadays that their children should have what is called "a good education." What is the teaching of Christ from the ship of Peter on this subject? It is that _without religion education cannot be good_. {310} Our faiths, as well as our experience, tells us that an education with religion left out is apt to prove rather a curse than a blessing to a child. Pride, conceit, loose morals, love of money, disobedience to parents and clergy--these are the things we see plenty of in the lives and habits of children who have received a "good education" with religion left out. There is another thing which is often the subject of much wonder to me. From time to time the bishops and priests find it necessary to warn their people against certain prevailing vices, or to denounce certain secret societies as anti-Christian, or to make regulations which are required to secure the proper administration of the sacraments--for instance, the publication of the bans of marriage--and there are found Catholics who set themselves in opposition to these counsels and laws of their pastors with a pertinacious obstinacy such as one would not expect to see except in a downright heretic. The conceit of these people is truly marvellous. They talk and act as if the whole Catholic Church belonged to them, and their priests were a miserable set of hirelings who can be persuaded to connive at anything they choose to pay them for. What is the reason of this? I'll tell you. It is due to their ignorance. The better instructed a Catholic is the more docile and humble he is. He hears Christ teaching when he hears the instructions of his pastor, and he rejoices to follow his counsels. "He that heareth you heareth me," said our Lord. God send us Catholics who love their religion well enough to make them desirous of being well instructed in its doctrine! ---------------------- {311} Sermon XCII. _I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come._ --Romans viii. 18. Brethren, if we wish to rejoice in the next world we must suffer in this. There is no escape from suffering here if we reckon on happiness hereafter. And there are good reasons for this. One is because we must atone for sin. Do not our own sins, little or great, continually cry out for penance? And if we give not suffering willingly they threaten to crucify us in spite of ourselves. And there are the sins of others, of heathens, and heretics, and bad Catholics--all these demand atonement, and, as it was not beneath the dignity of the Son of God to die for them, so, if we are Christians more than in name, we shall be ready to suffer with our blessed Lord for the sins of the world. Another reason why we mast suffer is that we may not become attached to the joys of this world, for we must leave them all some day or other. And, besides, God demands a heart quite undivided; he wants all our love, and not what is left after we have expended our chief affections on created things. And yet another reason for suffering is that we may merit more happiness in heaven. The Christian has a kind Father in heaven, who notes every pang, and sigh, and tear, and who will know how to reward. So one would think that a wise man would seek sufferings rather than avoid them; would thank God for the afflictions of his providence, and would look upon the troubles of this life--the loss of health, the loss of reputation, the loss of money--would look upon all this as God's way of elevating our life here on earth and of increasing our happiness hereafter; and that it would be true wisdom to voluntarily deny ourselves the joys of this world, reckoning rather upon those of the future life as the apostles did. {312} Yes, brethren, patient suffering is the very A B C of the Christian religion. What are Christ's blessings? Blessed are the poor; blessed are they that mourn; blessed are you when they persecute and revile you. Truly his religion is a religion of the cross. But what kind of Christians must we think ourselves since we all hate to suffer? We reckon fondly upon the joys of this life; those of the life to come may take care of themselves. Although we have a lifetime of horrid sins in our memory, and know that we have not done any penance, still we not only refuse to suffer willingly, but we speak and act as it God were a cruel tyrant thus to send upon us sickness, and poverty, and disgrace. And as to suffering in union with our Lord Jesus Christ for the sins of the world, such a generous thought never enters our mind at all; nor do we think of mortifying the rebellious passions, nor of the merit of sacrifice, nor of anything except to enjoy this world, to cling to this poor, fleeting world and its deceptive joys. Brethren, let us strive to obtain a wiser and stronger spirit in regard to suffering. I know that we may not hope to become heroes all at once, but may in time if we begin without delay; and the only way to begin is by prayer. You complain of the company of wicked and unpleasant people; but instead of snapping at them and quarrelling, offer your annoyance to God and pray him to assist you. {313} Are you in poverty? Instead of giving way to weariness and despair, think of Jesus and Mary at the humble cottage at Nazareth; think of the poor, wandering life of our Lord while he preached the Gospel, and beg him to give you some of his own patience. Are you afflicted with incurable illness? Remember that God has sent you this for your own good and will know how to recompense you. Instead of making your friends miserable by your impatience, think of Christ upon the cross, and of your sins which crucified him. St. Teresa had for her motto these words: "_Either to suffer or to die_." Oh! that we had only a little of the heroic spirit of the saints. Then we could welcome every dispensation of divine providence, whether of pleasure or of pain, and should be able to say with St. Paul: "I have learned in whatsoever state I am to be content therewith. I know both how to be brought low and how to abound ... both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need; I can do all things in him who strengtheneth me" (Phil. iv. 11-13). --------------------- {314} _Fifth Sunday after Pentecost_. Epistle. 1 _St. Peter iii._ 8-15. Dearly beloved: Be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, loving brotherhood, merciful, modest, humble: not rendering evil for evil, nor railing for railing, but on the contrary, blessing: for unto this are you called, that by inheritance you may possess a blessing. "For he that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile. Let him decline from evil, and do good: let him seek peace, and pursue it: because the eyes of the Lord are upon the just, and his ears unto their prayers: but the countenance of the Lord against them that do evil things." And who is he that can hurt you, if you be zealous of good? But if also you suffer anything for justice' sake, blessed are ye. And be not afraid of their terror and be not troubled; but sanctify the Lord Christ in your heart. Gospel. _St. Matt. v_. 20-24. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: I say to you, that unless your justice abound more than that of the Scribes and Pharisees, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. You have heard that it was said to them of old: Thou shalt not kill. And whosoever shall kill shall be guilty of the judgment. But I say to you, that whosoever is angry with his brother, shall be guilty of the judgment. And whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be guilty of the council. And whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be guilty of hell fire. Therefore if thou offerest thy gift at the altar, and there shalt remember that thy brother hath anything against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and first go to be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift. {315} Sermon XCIII. _Unless your justice abound more than that of the Scribes and Pharisees, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven_. --St. Matt. v. 20. The Scribes and Pharisees were very particular about keeping the _letter_ of the law, and prided themselves mightily on this kind of "justice." But Jesus Christ says that unless _our_ righteousness exceed theirs we shall not save our souls. Here, then, he teaches us that we must keep the _spirit_ of the commandments as well as the letter. And to show what he means by the _spirit_ of the law, he quotes the commandment which forbids murder. "Now, it is not enough," he says, "that you refrain from committing murder; you must equally refrain from the passion of anger--anger, that is, which destroys charity, and breeds ill-will, hatred, and revenge; for those who give way to these malicious feelings shall be arraigned at my judgment-seat side by side with murderers." Among those who heard him was St. John, his apostle; and St. John says: "He that hateth his brother is a murderer." Again, our Lord tells us that the spirit of the Fifth Commandment includes lesser sins than anger--that to call our brother contemptuous names, to provoke and irritate him by hard words (except, of course, in the case of just rebuke), is a grave violation of this law as he would have us Christians understand it. {316} The words which follow--addressed to those who were in the habit of going into the temple to lay their gifts before God's altar--apply with even greater force to _us_. _We_ come before God's altar when we come to hear Mass, and we come with the profession, at least, of offering a gift--that worship which is the tribute of our faith and love. There is one thing, then, which our Lord requires before he will receive our offering: that "our brother have" not "anything against us." In other words, we must be in perfect charity with our neighbor. If we have anything against _him_, we must forgive him there and then "from our hearts." If _he_ have anything against _us_, we must either have already done our best towards reconciliation and reparation, or at least be prepared and determined to do it at the very first opportunity. Now, it may be we are not in the state of grace when we come to hear Mass, but, on the contrary, laden with mortal sins. Well, we still have the right to hear Mass--nay, are bound to hear it; and, further, we can still offer a gift, and a very acceptable gift--an earnest prayer for contrition and amendment--a cry for mercy and deliverance. Our Lord once said to St. Mathilda: "However guilty a man may be, however inveterate the enmity of his heart against me. I will patiently bear with him whenever he is present at Mass, and will readily grant him the pardon of his sins if he sincerely ask it." Clearly, then, dear brethren, there is but one thing that can keep even a poor sinner from coming before God's altar with an acceptable gift--viz., the want of charity to his neighbor; that is, either the refusal to say from his heart: "Forgive us our trespasses _as we forgive_ those who trespass against us"; or, equally, the refusal to seek reconciliation or make reparation for wrongs of his own doing. {317} Now, in either case there is a brother who "has something against us," and that brother is Jesus Christ himself, who calls all men his brethren without exception, and especially our fellow-Catholics, having given to all his Sacred Heart and the love of his Blessed Mother. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. --------------------------- Sermon XCIV. _He that will love life and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil._ --1 St. Peter iii. 10. The words of the blessed Apostle St. Peter teach us that the good, peaceable man is the happiest, that God rewards a kind heart even in this life. Yes, the kindly-spoken man is a happy man. He has no quarrels on his hands. You cannot make him quarrel. Though he be strong and active, yet he is incapable of using his strength to injure his neighbor. Say a sharp, bitter thing to him, and instead of feeling insulted, he will laugh it off, and tell you to be good-natured, or will act as if _he_ had offended _you_. And the good, peaceable man is no slanderer or tale-bearer. When he hears anything to his neighbor's detriment he is sorry; he buries it in his kind heart, and tries to forget it. If his friends quarrel among themselves, he is the ready and successful peacemaker. If death, sickness, or misfortune of any kind afflicts his neighbor, he is the kind and skilful comforter. What do people think of such a man? Everybody loves him. And is not that happiness? Why, if a dog loves you it gives you joy, and the affection of many friends makes this world a paradise. So the good, peaceable man has that element of a lovely life and good days. {318} I need not say that the good, peaceable man is happy in his family. How children love a kind parent! How they enjoy home when he is there, with his happy laugh and innocent jest! His wife is proud of that husband, and blesses God for such a father for her little ones. There is no bickering, jealousy, or ill-will in that home, but charity and joy the whole year round. And the good, peaceable man is happy in his own self-respect. Without presumption he may say with the apostle: "I owe no man anything." He owes no man any grudge. He has inflicted sorrow upon no man. He has deprived no man of honor or of goods. He who is not at war with his neighbor is at peace with himself. His conscience is at peace, and a peaceful conscience is a soft pillow. So that by his kind words and deeds he really loves his life, as St. Peter says, and has provided himself with good days. But besides all this, God watches over the good, peaceable man. "He that loveth his neighbor hath fulfilled the law," says the Scripture. Our Lord loves those who love his children, and he is one who can make his friends happy. Did he not promise a reward for even a cup of cold water? And are not kind words often of more worth than bodily refreshment? God loves the good, peaceable man, and the love of God is enough to make any one happy. {319} So the next time you complain and say, "Oh! why am I so miserable? what ails me or my family, or my neighbors, that I am always in hot water, and can scarcely call one day in ten really happy?" just ask yourself: "Am I a peaceable, good-natured man?" Anger, hatred, and ill-will poison one's food as well as kill the soul, disturb one's sleep as well as perplex the conscience. To be happy you must be loved; and who will love one who hates? A sour face, a bitter tongue, a bad heart, gain no friends. A harsh voice, a cruel hand, a selfish heart, turn wife and child into enemies. So the suspicious man is unhappy; he breeds treason and jealousy among his friends. The touchy man is unhappy; you shun his company, for you fear to offend him. The critical man is unhappy; he is over-zealous about others and careless of himself. And, brethren, I might continue the sad litany, and to every unkind act, or thought, or word I could answer, it makes men miserable. Come, brethren, let us all try and be good-natured. Let us be so for the love of our Lord, who made and loves us all, and died to bind us all together in one happy household. ---------------------- {320} _Sixth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Romans vi._ 3-11. Brethren: We all, who are baptized in Christ Jesus, are baptized in his death. For we are buried together with him by baptism unto death: that as Christ is risen from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also may walk in newness of life. For if we have been planted together in the likeness of his death, in like manner we shall be of his resurrection. Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin may be destroyed, and that we may serve sin no longer. For he that is dead is justified from sin. Now if we be dead with Christ, we believe that we shall live also together with Christ: knowing that Christ rising again from the dead, dieth now no more, death shall no more have dominion over him. For in that he died to sin, he died once: but in that he liveth, he liveth unto God. So do you also reckon yourselves to be dead indeed to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. Mark viii._ 1-9. At that time: When there was a great multitude with Jesus, and had nothing to eat, calling his disciples together, he saith to them: I have compassion on the multitude, for behold they have now been with me three days, and have nothing to eat. And if I send them away fasting to their own houses, they will faint in the way, for some of them came from afar off. And his disciples answered him: From whence can any one satisfy them here with bread in the wilderness? And he asked them: How many loaves have ye? And they said: Seven. And he commanded the people to sit down on the ground, and taking the seven loaves, giving thanks, he broke, and gave to his disciples to set before them, and they sat them before the people. {321} And they had a few little fishes, and he blessed them and commanded them to be set before them. And they did eat and were filled, and they took up that which was left of the fragments, seven baskets. And they that had eaten were about four thousand: and he sent them away. ------------------- Sermon XCV. _Taking the seven loaves, giving thanks, he broke and gave to his disciples to set before them._ --St. Mark viii. 6. On this and on other occasions our Lord Jesus Christ blessed the food that was to be eaten. In imitation of his divine example we are taught to give thanks and bless ourselves and our food at meals. This pious practice is commonly called grace before and after meat. The word "grace" is English for the Latin word "_gratias_," which means thanks, taken from the thanksgiving to be said after meals. There are two prayers to be said, therefore: the first, a blessing to be invoked upon ourselves and upon the food prepared; and the second, a thanksgiving to be said after we have eaten it. The first is as follows: "Bless us, Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bountiful hands, through Christ our Lord. Amen." When we say the words, "Bless us, Lord," we should make the sign of the cross on ourselves. When we say "These thy gifts," we should make the sign of the cross over the table. The thanksgiving is said thus: "We give thee thanks, Almighty God, for all thy benefits, who livest and reignest for ever and ever. Amen." And it is also proper to add: "May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace." The Catholic practice is also to say these prayers standing. {322} In religious communities the blessing and grace are much longer, consisting of versicles and sentences from Scripture appropriate to the ecclesiastical season or festival; the Lord's Prayer is said and the "Te Deum" is said. This is a pious practice which ought to prevail in all Catholic families. The children should be taught to do it from the time they can bless themselves and lisp the words. Yes, everything we eat and wear ought to be blessed first before we use it. The sign of the cross and asking God's blessing is to acknowledge, as we are in duty bound, the source of all that is given to us, and to sanctify it to our own use, and also to make a good intention in using it. To act otherwise--to hurry to table and eat and drink without a thought of God or a word of religion, as I have seen so many do--is to act like a heathen or a beast. And this practice is not only for those who have a table set before them supplied with every luxury in the way of food, but it is especially good for those whose poverty compels them to sit down to scanty and common meals. The rich certainly ought to bless their bountifully-supplied tables, lest they prove to them the dangerous occasion of intemperance and gluttony, but the poor should remember the miracle of to-day's Gospel, when our Lord blessed and gave thanks over seven loaves and a few little fishes, and with that small store satisfied the hunger of four thousand people. God is ever a kind, loving Father, and will not forget the cry of those who put their trust in him. {323} Such was the trust of the poor man who had nothing but a little porridge to set before his family at dinner when he said: "God be good to us, and make this trifle of porridge go far enough for a poor man with a wife and seven children." This makes me think of two classes of people who I wish could be obliged to bless with the sign of the cross what they give and receive as nourishment. I mean the liquor-seller and the drunkard. The grocery-keeper, the butcher, the baker could do it, and why not the liquor-seller? You know the result if they did; the one would soon give up the business, and the other would soon give up drinking. But do not forget, as some do, to return thanks--to say the _grace_ after meals. Thank God for what you have received from his bounty. Again I say, act like a reasonable being and a Christian in this, and not like a heathen or a beast. You who are parents should see to the carrying out of this instruction. If you have not done so yet, begin to-day. Let the father say the prayer and make the sign of the cross over the table, and if one of the children come late don't give him a morsel to eat till he has said his blessing. In all things remember you are Christians, "giving thanks always for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God and the Father." ---------------- Sermon XCVI. _Know you not that all we who are baptized in Christ Jesus are baptized in his death._ --Romans vi. 3. {324} These are strong words, brethren, too strong, I fear, to be accepted in their full meaning by many of us; for we are quite too apt to mitigate the strong doctrine of Christ. Those great maxims of penance, of poverty, of obedience, of perfection, which the saints understood in their plain reality, we are very anxious to understand in a figurative sense, or to apply to somebody else besides our guilty selves. But let us look fairly and frankly at these strong words of St. Paul. How are we baptized in Christ's death? By being guilty of the sins which delivered him up to his enemies. Did he not die on account of mortal sins, and have we not committed mortal sins--violated God's most sacred commandments, and done it often--and wilfully, and knowingly, and habitually done it? Then the innocent blood of the Lamb of God is upon our hands, and nothing but penance can ever wash it off. And what sort of a penance? So thorough, so heartfelt, so practical that the apostle says it must condemn and put us to death with Christ; a penance so thorough that our Lord himself tells us that it must produce a new being in us: "Unless a man be born again he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven." So you see that St. Paul, in the words of our text, has given us the very charter of Christian penance; just as he explains it a little further on: "Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with Christ, that the body of sin may be destroyed." Behold, therefore, brethren, the plain statement of the greatest of all the practical duties of the Christian; to make reparation to God for his sins in union with the sufferings and death of Jesus Christ. They tell us that our only hope of restored innocence is in participation in the crucifixion--its shame, its agony, and its death. {325} Oh! that we could fully realize the necessity of penance. Oh! that the terrible form of Christ upon the cross could be ever in our eyes as it is ever above our altars. Oh! that the awful cries of Jesus' death agony could be ever sounding in our ears. Then we should be Christians indeed. Then the profound hatred of sin, the Christian duties of fasting and prayer, the holy offices of helping the poor and instructing the ignorant, the devout reception of God's grace in the sacraments; in a word, all the yearly round of a good Catholic life would have its true meaning. If we appreciated that Christ died for our sins, we should not have to drag ourselves so reluctantly to confession, we should not grumble at the fast of Lent, we should not strive to creep out of the duty of paying our debt of penance to God by this or that all too ready excuse, but we should take Christ for our example and his cross for our standard, and long for stripes and even death as the wages of sin. We should appreciate the wisdom of what the old monk of the desert said to the novice when asked for a motto: "Wherever you are, or whatever you are doing, say often to yourself: I am a pilgrim." Yes, a pilgrim; a banished son wearily waiting till his Father shall call him home; a convicted traitor working out the years of his banishment. I know, brethren, that this sounds like a melancholy doctrine. Yet is it not true? And to know the truth is the first beginning of peace in the heart. And listen to the joyful side. Hear it stated by the apostle in this very epistle: "For if we have been planted together in the likeness of his death, in like manner we shall be of his resurrection." {326} Yes; if we die to our old selves and to sin, we shall rise with our Lord Jesus Christ to everlasting glory. He sprang forth from the grave filled with joy, triumphing over sin; and so shall we rise if we are buried with him in penance. And what is the world's joy compared to the joy of paradise? What care we for a few years of labor and waiting here, when we think of the countless ages of the kingdom of heaven! You have heard, brethren, that St. Peter of Alcantara led a very penitential life; well, shortly after death he appeared to one of his friends surrounded with heavenly light and his face beaming with joy, and he exclaimed: "Oh! happy penance which has gained for me so great a reward." Brethren, let us do penance while we can, and leave it to a good God to provide us with happiness, and he will give us joys which will never fade. --------------- Sermon XCVII. _That as Christ is risen from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also may walk in newness of life._ --Romans vi. 4. The words of the Epistle to-day carry us back to Easter-tide, and give us a renewal of the lessons of Easter. St. Paul tells us that as Christ is risen from the dead and dieth no more, so we also should die indeed to sin, and rise again to newness of life through Jesus Christ our Lord. And as the Gospel relates how our Lord miraculously fed the multitudes in the wilderness, the church to-day seems to speak with especial force to those who have let the Easter-time go by without fulfilling the precept of yearly Communion, without seeking that heavenly food without which our souls must surely die of starvation. {327} To you and to all sinners the church appeals to-day, bidding them at least now to rise from the death of sin and walk in newness of life. The circumstances attending our Lord's resurrection teach us how we, too, should rise from the dead. An angel descended from heaven, and a mighty earthquake shook the holy sepulchre. And so the grace of God descends into our hearts, moving us to penance, and as with an earthquake our hearts must tremble with the fear of God and true sorrow for our sins. And then as the angel rolled away the stone from the mouth of the tomb, so divine grace will assist us in removing every obstacle in the way of our repentance--the slowness and dulness of our minds and wills, our spiritual sloth, the false shame that may keep us back from a good confession. Arise, and, God's grace urging you, make one mighty effort, and the stone will speedily be rolled away. Around the grave of our Lord stood the watch of Roman soldiers, guarding the seal that had been set upon the stone. Satan, perhaps, has set his seal upon your heart, and the devils watch around it for fear you should break loose from their bondage. But if you are determined to rise from the death of sin they will be as powerless to hinder you as the Roman soldiers were to prevent the resurrection of Jesus. When he rose from the dead he left behind him the grave-clothes and linen bandages with which his body had been bound. And this teaches us that we should leave behind us our evil habits and inclinations, and no longer remain slaves to our passions. Lazarus could not walk freely after his resurrection until he had been freed from his grave-clothes. {328} _Your_ grave-clothes are the habits of sin you have contracted, the cravings, of your sensual appetites, the love of sin that lingers in your hearts. Cast off these thongs that bind your souls, that you may walk freely in newness of life. When the women came to seek the body of Jesus the angel said to them: "Why seek you the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen." If, risen from the death of sin, Satan should again seek to gain possession of you; if your former bad companions should try to bring you back to your old ways; if the voice of passion should strongly lure you to leave the path of right, you can answer: "Why seek you the living among the dead? My soul is not here; but is risen--risen from the dead. It dieth no more; death hath no more dominion over it." Crucify, then, my dear brethren, the old man within you, that the body of sin may be destroyed, and that you may serve sin no longer. "Let not sin reign in your mortal bodies, so as to obey the lusts thereof," but "reckon yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive to God, in Christ Jesus our Lord." As our Lord had compassion upon those who listened to his words, and fed them with the loaves and fishes, so will he also have mercy upon you, if you hearken to his voice now calling you to penance, and will feed you with his own most precious Body and Blood. -------------------------- {329} Seventh Sunday after Pentecost. Epistle. _Romans vi._ 19-23. Brethren: I speak a human thing, because of the infirmity of your flesh. For as you have yielded your members to serve uncleanness and iniquity, unto iniquity; so now yield your members to serve justice, unto sanctification. For when you were the servants of sin, you were free from justice. What fruit therefore had you then in those things, of which you are now ashamed? For the end of them is death. But now being made free from sin, and become servants to God, you have your fruit unto sanctification, and the end everlasting life. For the wages of sin is death: but the grace of God, everlasting life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. Matthew vii._ 15-21. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: Beware of false prophets, who come to you in the clothing of sheep, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves. By their fruits you shall know them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree yieldeth good fruit, and the bad tree bad fruit. A good tree cannot yield bad fruit, neither can a bad tree yield good fruit. Every tree that yieldeth not good fruit, shall be cut down, and shall be cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits you shall know them. Not every man that saith to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven: but he that doeth the will of my Father who is in heaven, he shall enter into the kingdom of heaven. ----------------- {330} Sermon XCVIII. _Beware of false prophets, who come to you in the clothing of sheep, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves._ --St. Matthew vii. 15. A prophet is a teacher, and a teacher who assumes to have more than ordinary knowledge. He is one who claims to speak from authority, and demands a hearing on the score of his being inspired directly by the all-wise God, or as being commissioned to speak in the name of God. When such true teachers speak to us we are bound, of course, to listen to them, to receive their words with humility and obey them implicitly. It is the way of God with men. We are taught all we know. Now, if all teachers were true teachers, all men would believe alike and there would be no error in the world. But because there have been and are many false teachers, there are many false religions and innumerable lies of all kinds which thousands believe to be truths. For one to be sure, therefore, that what he believes is true, he must not be simply content with the fact that _he_ sincerely believes it, but he must know that his teacher is a true teacher. Those who are not Catholics wonder how it is that we feel so certain of the truths of our faith. Their wonder would cease if they were to become Catholics, as it does happen with all converts; for then they would know, as we know, _how it feels to be sure of one's teacher_. That is our inestimable privilege and inexpressible joy--that we know our teacher is true, and that a false teacher is instantly detected, no matter how carefully and cunningly he has put on his sheep's clothing. The disguise is never thick enough to hide the wolf's teeth and claws. {331} I do not say that a Catholic may not be deceived and be misled by these wolves in sheep's clothings else our Lord would not have told us to beware of such, and the history of all heresies proves that many can be deceived by them. But that is their fault. They go out of the fold where all is light and clear, and where a wolf is found out in a moment, and they wander about in places and in company where there is no light of divine faith. To tell the truth, the false teacher finds his victims already misled and enticed away by their own passions and pride. He finds they have already begun to believe a lie, and he has only to encourage them in it. What do I mean by wandering outside the fold? I mean imitating the talk and following the example of those whose principles are false; who say: "Religion is a matter of choice"; "It does not matter what a man believes so long as he is good"; "Education is the business of the state"; "Religion has nothing to do with science"; and also immoral principles such as these: "A man cannot help his nature"; "A young man is expected to sow his wild oats"; "We are in the world and must go with it," and such like. When a Catholic talks that way he is fair game for the first false teacher that comes along. Then one wanders outside the fold and is caught by the wolves when he ventures into forbidden secret societies. These wolves have got the sheep's clothing of charity and brotherly love on. It is a wonder that there can be found Catholics silly enough not to feel the wolf's claw the first time they are taught the secret-society grip. {332} "Charity and brotherly love" forsooth! They had better say, "We swear to love ourselves, and to look out for number one," for this is what all the twaddle of these secret brotherhoods amounts to. Avoid them. Their leaders are false teachers, their principles are false, and their association is dangerous to both faith and morals. Beware of the false newspaper prophet. Everybody reads the newspapers, and too many, alas! think they have the right to read any newspaper that is printed. That is what the false newspaper prophet says when he offers for sale his filthy, licentious, and lying sheet. Beware of him! His talk is corrupting and demoralizing. Do you wish, dear brethren, to make sure of not being deceived by these wolves in sheep's clothing? Then obey with humility and docility the shepherd of the flock. When he cries, "Wolf! wolf!" then be sure that there is a wolf. Defer to his judgment. _His_ preaching, you know, is true. Follow that, and not even the devil himself can deceive you. ---------------- Sermon XCIX. _Every tree is known by its fruit._ --St. Luke vi. 44. The great lesson taught us to-day by the offices of the church is that the Christian life of faith must show itself in good works. Faith is the foundation, but a building must not stop with the foundation; more stones must be added continually until it rises complete in all its parts, according to the plan of the architect. {333} So we must not be content with the foundation of faith, but, by co-operating with the graces God is always giving us, must be always striving after the model set before us by the Divine Architect, our Lord Jesus Christ, always adding virtue to virtue, until at last we shall appear before the God of gods in Sion to receive the reward of our good deeds. Faith is the root, but the root must grow into a tree, and put forth not only leaves and blossoms, not only pious thoughts and fine words, but the fruit of good deeds, the fruit of a life spent in conformity to the maxims of our holy faith. Our Lord tells us that a tree is known by its fruit. For there is no good tree that bringeth forth evil fruit, nor an evil tree that bringeth forth good fruit. So the earnestness of our faith will be known by our lives. If we find that our lives correspond to what our faith teaches us, we may be sure that our faith is living and not dead. "By their fruits ye shall know them," Alas! how many who call themselves Catholics make their lives an argument against the faith in the hands of its enemies, who point at us the finger of scorn, and loudly proclaim that, by our Lord's own test, we fail. And then we have the careless and the lukewarm, who, while they are not an open scandal, yet fall far short of the test our Lord proposes. In them we see plenty of leaves, and even blossoms, but the fruit is sadly wanting, or, at best, is but worm-eaten and rotten through a lack of earnestness and a pure intention. They, perhaps, will talk about their faith as though they were the most zealous Catholics in the world; but if we look into their practice we find it very different from what their language would lead us to expect. How many, for instance, are ready enough to defend in argument the doctrine of the Real Presence who never think of making a visit to the Blessed Sacrament, nay, who rarely approach the Holy Communion, and perhaps have not made their Easter-duty! {334} Well, I fear it will always be so. Fine words are cheap and good resolutions are easily made, but it is another thing to keep them. But listen to our Lord's warning: "Every tree that yieldeth not good fruit shall be cut down, and cast into the fire." Our eternal welfare depends upon our deeds. Our faith alone will not save us. It is necessary, indeed; for just as the root is to the tree the source of all its life, so faith is what gives to our good works their merit before God. But unless it bears the fruit of good works it is worthless and dead. "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter the kingdom of heaven: but he that doth the will of my Father who is in heaven, he shall enter into the kingdom of heaven." That is to say, not every one who professes the true faith shall be saved, but those only who shall bring their wills into conformity with the will of God. It is not enough to acknowledge God as our Lord and King, if his holy will is not fulfilled in us and by us. If we would enter into life eternal we must keep the commandments of God and his church. And we also do the will of God by suffering it; that is, by enduring with patience all the trials and crosses he may send us, for these are his holy will for us as much as his positive precepts. There is often more merit in patiently suffering than in great deeds that would astound the world. This is the way to fulfil the prayer so often on our lips: "Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." Strive, then, both in doing and in suffering, to make real for yourselves this holy petition, that God may not have to say of you, as he said of the Jews of old: "This people honoreth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me." ----------------- {335} Sermon C. _The wages of sin is death._ --Romans vi. 23. This is a truth plain enough to the thoughtful; but there are some, alas! who think about it only when it is too late. The wages have not yet become due, and the sinner, thinking only of his present pleasures, goes on unmindful of that time when the terrible wages will have to be paid in full. Death, says St. Paul, is the wages. Tell a man that if he goes to a certain place or performs a certain act the penalty will be death, and he cannot be persuaded to go to that place or perform that fatal act. On the other hand, he will do anything to save himself from such a fate. But the death of which St. Paul speaks is not to be compared with that of the body, for it is the soul. The wages of sin is, then, a spiritual death. If we could see before us in one vast pile a number of bodies corrupted by death, what a revolting spectacle it would be! But if we could see the dead souls of so many around us, who seem to be so full of life, as God beholds them, we should be far more horrified. There are some who, as they sit in their houses, walk in the streets, are engaged at work, or even as they are on their knees in church, have with them only wretched corpses of souls. Who will reap this terrible wages of sin? We have all sinned, therefore we must all reap some of its wages. {336} By the sin of one man "death has passed unto all men, in whom all have sinned." Death is the most dreadful temporal calamity with which we are acquainted; yet it is the wages which the whole human race have to pay for the sin of one. But the penalty of that second death, which is eternal, is the most terrible wages of sin; and yet our holy faith teaches us that one mortal sin is enough to cause the instant death of the soul. But the man who lives in mortal sin abides in death. Every sin that he commits plunges his soul deeper into the abyss of death, till at last he receives the full wages of his crimes in the flames of hell. How shall we escape this terrible penalty? Our blessed Lord, by his death, received the wages due to us on account of sin. Through the infinite merits of his death our souls may be brought to life, if we will truly repent and sin no more. St. Paul says: "As in Adam all die, so also in Christ all shall be made alive." But we cannot hope to escape the bitter wages of sin, unless we cease to sin. If we live in sin, and, as generally happens to such, die in sin, we shall not be helped by the death of Christ, but shall receive more bitter wages for our sins than if Christ had not died for us. We shall then, in addition to our other crimes, be guilty of the death of our Blessed Redeemer; for, as St. Paul says: "By our sins we crucify Jesus Christ afresh." There are, also, wages which have to be paid for sins forgiven. Though the eternal guilt is remitted, the infinite justice of God has yet to be satisfied. We shall all of us have to receive the wages of our forgiven sins in penance and sufferings in this life and in purgatory till the last farthing has been paid. {337} This ought to make us fearful about our past sins, and to make us dread nothing so much as to fall into sin again. The words of the text, "For the wages of sin is death," should be continually in our minds when we are tempted to sin, and, knowing the terrible consequences which must follow every sin, we shall rather endure any temporal evil than to incur the terrible misfortune of having offended God. ------------------ {338} _Eighth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Romans. viii._ 12-17. Brethren: We are debtors not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh, you shall die. But if by the spirit you mortify the deeds of the flesh, you shall live. For whosoever are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of God. For you have not received the spirit of bondage again in fear: but you have received the spirit of adoption of sons, whereby we cry, Abba (Father). For the Spirit himself giveth testimony to our spirit, that we are the sons of God. And if sons, heirs also: heirs indeed of God, and joint heirs with Christ. Gospel. _St. Luke xvi_. 1-9. At that time: Jesus spoke to his disciples this parable: There was a certain rich man who had a steward: and the same was accused unto him, that he had wasted his goods. And he called him, and said to him: What is this I hear of thee? Give an account of thy stewardship: for now thou canst not be steward. And the steward said within himself: What shall I do, because my lord taketh away from me the stewardship? To dig I am not able, to beg I am ashamed. I know what I will do, that when I shall be put out of the stewardship, they may receive me into their houses. Therefore calling together every one of his lord's debtors, he said to the first: How much dost thou owe my lord? But he said: A hundred barrels of oil. And he said to him: Take thy bill and sit down quickly, and write fifty. Then he said to another: And how much dost thou owe? Who said: A hundred quarters of wheat. He said to him: Take thy bill and write eighty. {339} And the lord commended the unjust steward, forasmuch as he had done wisely: for the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light. And I say to you: Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of iniquity, that when you shall fail they may receive you into everlasting dwellings. ---------------- Sermon CI. _Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of iniquity, that when you shall fail they may receive you into everlasting dwellings._ --St. Luke xvi. 9. What is this mammon of iniquity of which, or with which (for that is the true sense of the words), we are to make friends for ourselves? It is the money or other property that God has given us to use in this world. We have only to read a few verses more to see that this is what it means; for when our Lord said immediately afterwards, "You cannot serve God and Mammon," the evangelist tells us that "the Pharisees, who were covetous, laughed at him." It is called the mammon of iniquity or injustice, because it is the cause of almost all the injustice in the world. We have, then, to make friends for ourselves with the money or other temporal means which God has entrusted to us. This is what the steward of whom the Gospel tells us did. He was entrusted by his master with the management of an estate. He was to take care of it in his master's interest, not in his own, for it did not belong to him; as we are here to use our property in God's interest, for he is our Master, and what we have really belongs to him and not to ourselves. {340} The steward was not faithful to his master; he wasted his goods; so he was discharged from his office and had to give an account of his stewardship, as we also shall have to give an account of ours to our Master when we are discharged from it--that is, when we come to die. Then he began to think how he could make use of the means that had been committed to him to provide for himself in the new state of life upon which he had to enter. He had not much time to make his arrangements, but he hit upon a very good plan. In that we do not resemble him, for with all our lifetime to make our arrangements in, and the certainty that we shall have some time to be discharged from our stewardship, and give an account of it before the judgment-seat of God, we too often make none at all. As our Lord says: "The children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light." The steward, I say, hit on a good plan; and that was to obtain the favor of his master's debtors by taking something off the bills which they had to pay, that they might in return contribute something to his support and save him from the necessity of working or begging for the remainder of his life. In this way he made friends for himself with the money which had been committed to him, in order that these friends might receive him into their dwellings when he was turned out of his own. This is the part of his conduct which we have to imitate. We have to imitate the steward by making friends with the means which our Lord has given us--friends who will be of service to us in the new life upon which we have so soon to enter, the life which comes after death. {341} But who are these friends to be? Generally people try to buy the favor of the rich and the great. But these are not the friends who are going to be of use to us in the next world. No, the poor, not the rich, are the ones whose friendship will be of use to us there. In this life they will not help those who help them, because they cannot; but they will in the next. If you help them the blessing which they give you is not only a blessing when you receive it, but it is treasured up for you, long after you have forgotten it, in God's eternal memory. He is preparing in heaven beautiful and glorious mansions for these friends of yours, who are also friends of his, to make up for the miserable ones in which they have lived on earth. There are others like them which he is preparing for us all. He has gone to get them ready. "In my Father's house," said our Lord, "there are many mansions. ... I go to prepare a place for you." These mansions are being prepared for you, but whether you enter into their possession depends very much on how you treat the poor, to whom they more properly belong. Be charitable, then, to them, for they have the keys of the homes which you will shortly have to seek. And in your charity to the poor remember one who is always poor, at least in this country of ours. I mean God's holy church. She is a very great beggar, and a very tiresome one, I know--always asking you for more; it seems as if she would never be satisfied, and I do not believe she ever will. {342} But then she is a good friend of yours, and what you give to her is, like what you give to other poor people, more for your own good than for hers. For it is chiefly by her help that you are to reach those everlasting dwellings which our Lord promises to you. If you did not do anything for her it certainly would be hard for you to be saved; for it is through her that the means of salvation come. The more liberal you are to her the more liberally will those means be given to you; and if you think you have enough of them, and are quite sure of heaven with what you have got, certainly that is not the case with everybody; and you know we ought to love our neighbor as ourselves. These, then, God's poor and his church, are the best friends you can make with the temporal means that he has given you, for they are the ones who can provide for you in that eternity which is coming so soon. Imitate the prudence of the steward, and you will not only make friends as he did, but you will also please your Master, which he did not, and obtain from Him who is your best friend an eternal reward. ------------------- Sermon CII. _Give an account of thy stewardship._ --St. Luke xvi. 2. There is nothing said against the ability of this steward. On the contrary, he gives every evidence of being a shrewd business man. His investments had probably been prudent, and his debtors reliable men. The fault for which he is held blamable is carelessness. He had not kept his accounts squared up. {343} If the master had waited for the regular time of enquiring into his accounts, or had given him a little notice of his intention to do so, he would, in all probability, have found everything in excellent order, and have praised his steward for his good management. But he came upon him unawares, when he had many debts outstanding and his books were in disorder. This, in a business man, is inexcusable; and whenever we hear of a similar case we always condemn the unfortunate man, and say, "It served him right; he should have attended to his business." Little do we think, indeed, how our own words may some day stand witness against us. The application of the Gospel is too plain to need any explanation, but there is one point I would impress upon you particularly this morning: our carelessness. We are all stewards of our own souls, and concerning the care we have taken of them, the use to which we have put the many opportunities of merit, the investment, as it were, we have made of the innumerable graces offered us, we shall have to render a strict account, and at what moment we know not. We know that we have many debts, and that it would go hard with us if we had to meet them at once; we know that we have not straightened up our accounts for a long time, and that everything is in disorder. Yet we go on in the same careless way day after day and month after month. Sometimes we get messages and warnings from our Lord; a mission is preached, we meet with temporal reverses, or we are thrown on a bed of sickness and think our Lord is about to ask us for the account of our stewardship, and we make a hurried compromise with our sins, the best we can do under the circumstances. {344} But no sooner do we find the account is not really required than we fall back into the former careless way of conducting the business of our soul. Indeed, it is strange that women who are such good housewives, and men who give such careful attention to the temporal things of this life, are so utterly negligent when it comes to that which is the most important of all--the business of their soul. One would think they had no faith. The foolish excuses they make!--they are too much mixed up with the world to be pious, they have to attend to their family, and the like. As though they were not to save their soul in this world; as though the attending to their soul and the care of their family were two separate and distinct things! And then, when God, seeing that prosperity is not good for them, sends them reverses, they neglect their soul more than ever, and fail to see that if they had looked after their soul they might have been even better off in this world's affairs. Take a warning, then, my brethren, from the lesson of to-day's Gospel; keep the accounts of your soul in order, for you know not the time when the Master will say: "Give an account of thy stewardship." And let not those who make their Easter duty think the lesson does not apply to them, but let not a single month pass by without rendering an account to God. --------------------- Sermon CIII. _Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of iniquity, that when you shall fail they may receive you into everlasting dwellings._ --St. Luke xvi. 9. {345} Every Christian knows our Lord does not intend to encourage men to love that which is entirely worldly. In fact, his caution often repeated, his most important warning to men, is that they do not love too much the riches of this world. He even tells us it is impossible for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven unless God himself keep that man from loving his money and possessions more than he ought to do. This is what too often makes riches a mammon of iniquity. The words can also be taken to mean riches gained by fraud, robbery, or unjust dealing of any kind. Men of the world will say this is all the words can mean. God, however, has more to say about it. In his mind these words include all that a man may gain from motives which are impure and mean in the sight of God. Now, the duty of every man is to look at everything as God looks at it. He must find out God's opinion of what is right or wrong, and make that opinion the law of his own life. The words "mammon of iniquity" mean, therefore, not only riches and possessions gained unjustly, but also that honor, esteem of men, that social position, or that high office gained by sinful actions or from bad motives. What, then, is a man to do who has offended God in this way? If he has gotten unjustly money or property he must restore it, be it much or little. But, one may say, "I will lose my reputation if I give it back. I shall be found out." This is not true in most cases. A man can restore privately. He can see that the one he has wronged gets back again that which belongs to him. He is not obliged to tell him who took it from him. If it cannot be done by himself without losing his good name, let him tell his confessor about it. He will manage it for him. The priest is ordained and instructed in order to help him in this as well as in other difficulties. {346} Moreover, what sort of a good name is that which that man knows is a false one? If not dead to sincerity of spirit that man must feel like a hypocrite. He must feel that he is not even the shadow of an honest man so long as he is called by a name he does not deserve. He must sometimes long to be again a truly honest man. Let him restore, and then he will be again an honest man. He will then have that peace which is more to him than wealth or honor of this world. At least let him tell the priest about it. He makes a great mistake who stays away from confession because he has done wrong. The confessor can help him when he cannot help himself. He can make it easy for him to do right when it seems hard. Another will say: "I have taken a little from this one and a little from that one. I do not know the people I have wronged." Then give what is gained unjustly to the poor. The law of the land, as well as God's law, will not permit a man to keep that which he has gained dishonestly. The one who restores in this manner adds good works to his act of restitution. He relieves God's poor; he clothes the naked and feeds the hungry; he gains the prayers of the poor, whom God has promised to hear always. These prayers bring blessings on his head, true sorrow for sin into his soul, and secure for him the grace of a happy death. Riches of injustice thus used will make friends who will get for him by their prayers an everlasting habitation in heaven. What other things are included in the riches of injustice? All that is valued by pride, ambition, self-love, vanity. All that man loves in this world because it makes him appear to be above his fellow-men. The proud, ambitious, selfish, and vain man has robbed God of the glory and honor due to him alone. {347} He has worked for himself alone, and forgotten God, except to use God for his own private benefit. This man will often make bad confessions and communions in order to appear to be good. But what riches of injustice has he gained? He has gotten a pleasant manner, a sweet smile, a habit of talking respectfully to every one whose praise is pleasing to him, who can bring him custom or give him a vote for office. These things, good in themselves, are made bad by the motive in his heart. Let this man change his motive and all will be right. He must use these same manners and smiles for God's sake. He must show that respect to every one, high or low, rich or poor. He must do this for the love of God and love of all men, for God's sake. This man, also, will then have gained the prayers of the poor by repairing in this way sins of pride, ambition, and self-love. He will find he has gained friends with the riches of injustice who will cause him to be received into everlasting habitations. ------------------ {348} _Ninth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 1 _Corinthians x._ 6-13. Brethren: We should not covet evil things, as they also coveted. Neither become ye idolaters, as some of them: as it is written: "The people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play." Neither let us commit fornication, as some of them committed fornication, and there fell in one day three and twenty thousand. Neither let us tempt Christ: as some of them tempted, and perished by the serpents. Neither do you murmur: as some of them murmured, and were destroyed by the destroyer. Now all these things happened to them in figure; and they are written for our correction, upon whom the ends of the world are come. Wherefore let him that thinketh himself to stand, take heed lest he fall. Let no temptation take hold on you, but such as is human. And God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you are able; but will make also with temptation issue, that you may be able to bear it. Gospel. _St. Luke xix._ 41-47. At that time: When Jesus drew near Jerusalem, seeing the city, he wept over it, saying: If thou also hadst known, and that in this thy day, the things that are for thy peace; but now they are hidden from thy eyes. For the days shall come upon thee: and thy enemies shall cast a trench about thee: and compass thee round, and straiten thee on every side, and beat thee flat to the ground, and thy children who are in thee; and they shall not leave in thee a stone upon a stone: because thou hast not known the time of thy visitation. {349} And entering into the temple, he began to cast out them that sold therein, and them that bought, saying to them: It is written: "My house is the house of prayer"; but you have made it a den of thieves. And he was teaching daily in the temple. ------------------ Sermon CIV. _My house is the house of prayer. But you have made it a den of thieves._ --St. Luke xix. 46. What made our Lord so severe with these people of whom the Gospel tells us, who were selling and buying in the temple? He was usually gentle and mild, not violent, as on this occasion. He was generally content with reproving what was wrong; here he resorted to force--that force which no one could resist, and which he could always have used if he had chosen; by which he could have destroyed all his enemies in a moment, if he had seen fit to do so. And he not only made these buyers and sellers leave the house of God, but he drove them out in confusion, and also, as we read elsewhere, overturned the tables and chairs which they had used. Well, one reason for his severity probably was that those who sold were making an unjust profit out of the necessities of those who bought; for the things which they were selling were such as had to be offered by the people for the sacrifices of the temple, and could not well be obtained by them anywhere else. But I think his principal motive was to impress on his followers, and on us who were to come after them, a lesson which we are very apt to forget. He wanted to teach it to us in such a way that we could not forget it: and therefore he made use of this extraordinary means. {350} This lesson is contained in the words which he quotes from his prophet Isaias: "My house is the house of prayer." These words were true of the temple in which he then was, but they have a more special reference to the temples in which he now dwells, in which he dwells continually, which he did not in that temple, magnificent as it was. You know, or ought to know, what these temples are. They are our churches, where he is all the time, in his Real Presence, in the Blessed Sacrament. These are the temples of which that in Jerusalem was only a figure or type. The church is the place for prayer. That is the lesson for us, and we were, as I have said, the ones whom he chiefly wanted to instruct. For prayer--that is, for acts of religion of all kinds--and for nothing else. It is the place to think of God and to speak to him, and not to do anything else, innocent though it be. It is not a place to talk or laugh in. You know that well enough, and would not, I suppose, laugh or talk; at any rate not much in church, especially if Mass was being celebrated or if there were a good many people there. But perhaps that would be because you would be afraid of what these people would say or think of you; for there are persons who, sometimes when nobody seems to be looking, do not scruple to have quite a nice little conversation, which might just as well be put off till some other time, if, indeed, there was any need for it at all. {351} The church is not a place to stare around in, or to see what is going on, except at the altar. And yet there are persons who come to it, especially if there is to be a wedding or some other event of general interest, simply for this purpose and for nothing else. Perhaps they will kneel down a little while for form's sake; but they did not enter God's house to pray for themselves or for anybody else, but only to gratify their worldly curiosity by seeing how people look or behave, and to have something to talk about, possibly to make fun about afterwards, if not, indeed, at the time. And that reminds me of another thing. The church is not the place to see what kind of clothes people have on, or to show off one's own good clothes. It is a place to be well dressed in, as far as one's means will properly allow; but that is in order to give honor to God, not to win it from one another. It is the place to dress neatly, but not showily; not in such a way as to attract the eyes of others, and draw their thoughts from those things on which they should then be employed. And this again suggests something else; that is, that our thoughts, as well as our words and actions, belong specially to our Lord when we are in his presence, before his altar. Let us take particular care about this. If we take care of our thoughts our words and actions will take care of themselves. And let us remember that when we spend our time in church unworthily we are stealing something from God. What is this that we are stealing? It is the time and the honor that he has a right to expect from us. It is because of these thefts that he can truly say to us: "My house is the house of prayer; but you have made it a den of thieves." This seems strong language; but do we not deserve it if we take from our Lord the little that he claims as his own? {352} He may have called those who sold in the temple thieves, because they were cheating their neighbors; but is it not as bad to cheat him? Let us, then, be sorry for this cheating of ours, and try to make restitution in the time that is to come. ------------------- Sermon CV. _God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you are able._ --1 Corinthians x. 13. Some people seem to think that their sins are principally God's fault. A great many of you, my dear friends, who are listening to me now have frequently, I have no doubt, said as much. Of course you will say, and very rightly too, that such a charge against the good God is a horrible blasphemy; but, for all that, you have often been guilty of it. You will, I think, want me to prove this before you will fully believe it. Well, it is very easy to do so. Have you never, when you accused yourself of some sin, said that you could not help it? You got in a passion, for instance, perhaps quite frequently, and spoke angry words, which of course you were sorry for afterwards; but you say that at the time you could not help it. What follows, then, if what you say is true? Why, in the first place, it follows, of course, that it was not your fault that you sinned; that in fact it was no sin for you at all, for if a person really cannot help doing a thing he is not to blame for it. But it was a sin; you acknowledge that; so if it was not your sin it must have been somebody else's. {353} And that somebody else must have been Almighty God. He was answerable for the sin by not giving you the grace to avoid it. That is what it amounts to when you say that you could not help committing sin. This horrible blasphemy, which then certainly is implied by the words, "I could not help it"--this blasphemy, which makes God the author of sin and responsible for it, is what St. Paul denies in the words from the Epistle of to-day which I have read to you. He says: "God is faithful"; he does give you enough grace. "He will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you are able"; he will not let you have a temptation so strong that, with the grace which he gives you, you cannot resist it. There are some things which one cannot help, but sin is not one of them. If a hot coal falls on one's hand one cannot help feeling pain from it; and in the same way one cannot help feeling the fire of temptation with which God is sometimes pleased that we should be tried. But sin, which is the giving way of the will to temptation, one can always help. Sin, the giving way to temptation, is like holding the hot coal in your hand after it has fallen there. You do not want to hold the coal in your hand; but you do want to give way to temptation, because there is something pleasant in that. It is more pleasant to give way than to resist it; if it were not it would not be a temptation. It relieves your mind to say that angry word when you are provoked. It is hard often to resist temptation; that is the amount of it. But it is not impossible. {354} Never say, then, when you accuse yourself of anything with which your conscience really reproaches you, that you could not help it. Do not say it, unless you wish to blaspheme God and throw the blame of your sin upon him. Remember that he is faithful, and does not suffer you to be tempted above what you are able; and say, rather, "It was hard to help it; I was very much tempted, but I could have resisted, and I am very sorry that I did not." I know that is what you mean very often when you say, "I could not help it." Say, then, what you mean, for it will help you very much the next time. It will put you in mind of what you must know to be the truth--that is, that you could have kept from sin; and when you are convinced of this you will, if you are in earnest, use all the means you have to do so. Above all you will see that one great reason why it was so hard to resist temptation was that, though you had grace enough to do so, you did not have enough to make it easy; and you will pray hard to get that abundant help which God will give to all who continually ask it from him. ---------------------- {355} _Tenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 1 _Corinthians xii._ 2-11. Brethren: You know that when you were heathens, you went to dumb idols, according as you were led. Wherefore I give you to understand, that no man, speaking by the Spirit of God, saith Anathema to Jesus. And no man can say, The Lord Jesus, but by the Holy Ghost. Now there are diversities of graces, but the same Spirit: and there are diversities of ministries, but the same Lord. And there are diversities of operations, but the same God, who worketh all in all. But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man unto profit. To one, indeed, by the Spirit, is given the word of wisdom: to another, the word of knowledge according to the same Spirit: to another, faith in the same Spirit; to another, the grace of healing in one Spirit: to another, the working of miracles: to another, prophecy: to another, the discerning of spirits: to another, divers kinds of tongues: to another, interpretation of speeches: but all these things one and the same Spirit worketh, dividing to every one according as he will. Gospel. _St. Luke xviii._ 9-14. At that time: To some who trusted in themselves as just, and despised others, Jesus spoke this parable: Two men went up into the temple to pray: the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The Pharisee, standing, prayed thus with himself: O God! I give thee thanks that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, nor such as this publican. I fast twice in the week: I give tithes of all that I possess. {356} And the publican, standing afar off, would not so much as lift up his eyes towards heaven; but struck his breast, saying: O God! be merciful to me a sinner! I say to you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; because every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled: and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted. --------------------- Sermon CVI. _Two men went up into the temple to pray: the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican._ --St. Luke xviii, 10. There are not supposed to be any Pharisees nowadays, and the word "publican" is getting rather old-fashioned; so perhaps, before applying this parable to our own times, we had better understand who the Pharisees and the publicans were. The Pharisees, in our Lord's time, were a very religious class among the Jews, very strict and correct in their belief, and with very strict consciences, too--strict, at least, about some things, particularly about such things as concerned their reputation for piety. About other matters they were sometimes rather too easy and charitable--easy and charitable, that is, to themselves; for it is quite possible that they might have criticised others for faults not very different from their own, as when this Pharisee in the Gospel called the poor publican standing in the corner an extortioner, or robber, as perhaps the word is better rendered; forgetting, it may be, some little transactions which, if rightly understood, might have fixed as bad a name on himself. {357} These publicans, on the other hand, were not in any way a religious set of people; they did not pretend, like the Pharisees, to be so, nor were they in point of fact. They were called publicans because they collected the public taxes; they were blamed by the people, and with good reason, for extorting money unjustly from the poor. Their business was really, in those times, a proximate occasion of sin; this was the reason why St. Matthew, who was a publican before our Lord called him to be an apostle, never went back to his business again, as St. Peter did to his innocent occupation as a fisherman. The publican of this parable also, no doubt, had either made up his mind to give up his sinful life or was endeavoring to do so. Both of these men, the Pharisee and the publican, were sinners. In that they were alike; the difference between them was that the publican acknowledged that he was a sinner and was trying to amend his life, while the Pharisee thought that he was perfect, or that, if he had any faults, they were such as no one could avoid, and which his Maker would readily overlook, especially in a person of his exalted piety. Now, I said in the beginning that there were not supposed to be any Pharisees nowadays: but I think that we shall find that there are some people of this kind, even among us Christians; and perhaps, if we go down very deep into our own consciences, we shall even find that we are Pharisees ourselves. Some of these Pharisees make excellent confessions. They show a care in their examination of conscience equal to that of the saints; they have the most accurate knowledge of every fault, and are willing to go into every detail, if they are permitted to do so. This delicacy of perception of sin is a quality which certainly commands our admiration; but there is a circumstance which prevents this admiration from being quite unlimited. {358} This circumstance is that the faults which they are so keenly alive to are not their own. They are those of other people with whom they live, or of whom they hear through some person of the same sort of sensitive conscience that they themselves have. The world, in the eyes of these sensitive people, certainly has a melancholy aspect. Everybody is doing wrong, and nobody is doing right--nobody, that is, except themselves. They, thank God! are not so bad. They are innocent sufferers, enduring a continual martyrdom at the hands of these wicked people who live in the same house or close by. Their only consolation here below is to tell their friends how much they suffer, and how much others suffer, from these sinners. Others, it is true, may deserve it, but they themselves certainly never have. They wish that they were dead and out of reach of their persecutors. The most curious thing is that one of their great causes of annoyance is the way that other people will carry stories; this is the story that they spend their lives in carrying. Perhaps you think this picture is overdrawn. I hope it is. And I do not believe that many people are such thorough Pharisees as these whom I have described. But there is too much, a great deal too much, of the Pharisaic spirit about us all. And not nearly enough of the spirit of the publican--of humility, contrition, and purpose of amendment. How shall we acquire this spirit By looking into our own conscience, unpleasant as it may be, and letting those of our neighbors alone. {359} If we sincerely examine our own hearts we shall not thank God that we are not like others, but rather pray to him that we may, before we die, have something like the perfection that many others have already reached; and ask him, as the publican did, to have mercy on us sinners--on us poor sinners, who are trying to be so no more. That is the way, and the only way, that we sinners can get into the company of the saints; not by fancying ourselves there already. If we wish, then, to reach that blessed company, let us start on this way at once, for there is no time to lose. ---------------------- Sermon CVII. _Every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled; and he that humbleth himself shall be exulted._ --St. Luke xviii. 14. One does not need to be a Christian, my dear brethren, to understand, as it would seem, the truth of these words of our Lord. Everybody knows that a man who is all the time praising himself, or who even shows that he has a pretty good opinion of himself, loses by it in the opinion of others. He does not even get as much credit for ability or virtue as he really deserves, besides being considered as stuck up and conceited, which everybody feels to be a defect. In fact, a man who is evidently very proud makes himself ridiculous. And, on the other hand, one who is modest and unassuming generally is supposed to be more clever than he really is. People sometimes get a reputation for learning and depth of thought by simply holding their tongue--so convinced is the world that a really great man will not make a parade of his greatness. {360} But this lesson of worldly prudence is not the real meaning of our Saviour's words. He does not wish to show us how to get a reputation for learning or for anything else. This would be merely encouraging and helping our vanity and pride. What he wishes to teach us is humility. He wants us to humble ourselves really; not to pretend to do so, that we may be more esteemed by the world. Why, then, if that is the object, does he promise us that if we humble ourselves we shall be exalted? That, it would seem, could be no inducement to a man who had real humility. Such a man would not want to be exalted, you will say. Ah! there is where you are mistaken. Every humble man, every really good man, does want to be exalted. The saints, who are the models of humility for us, wanted it more than any one else in the world. This may sound strange, but it is undoubtedly true. For what is it to be exalted in the true sense of the word? It is to get near to God, who is the Most High. And the more one loves God the more does he wish to be near him; so all those who love God wish to be thus exalted and the saints more than all, because they love God more than any one else. And this exaltation, which comes from being near to Almighty God, is what he promises, in these words of the Gospel, to the humble and refuses to the proud. This was what he gave to the publican and refused to the Pharisee; for he gave the publican his grace and his friendship, but the Pharisee failed to receive it on account of his pride. "This man," says our Lord, "went down to his house justified rather than the other"--that is, nearer to God, and therefore more exalted. {361} The humble, then, will be raised into the friendship of God, and the proud will not. Nor can they come near him in any other way. He is too high above us for us to come near him except on his own terms. You cannot get near Almighty God by making the most of your natural powers, any more than you can get near the stars by going on the roof of your house. Some people in old times thought to scale the heavens by building a high tower; but God confounded their pride, and the tower of Babel is a byword for human folly and presumption to this day. Let us, then, my dear brethren, not follow their example. Let us seek truly to be exalted, but in the way that he has appointed, in the way that his saints have chosen, and especially the way of Our Blessed Lady, the nearest to him and the humblest of all. And, in fact, if we really wish for this true exaltation it must needs be in this way; for if we really wish to be near God it must be for the love of him; and if we love him we must often think of him; and if we often think of him we must be humble; for how can the creature be proud who often thinks of the Creator of heaven and earth? ----------------- Sermon CVIII. Every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted. --St. Luke xviii. 14. It is a blessed and a happy moment, a sort of turning-point in life, my brethren, for any one of us when he wakes up to the conviction that he is nothing extraordinary after all. That is, if there is such a moment; for sometimes this conviction dawns on one gradually. {362} Almost every one begins life with the other idea. Not that he has it himself at the start, but his friends have it for him. Almost every baby is considered, as you know, to be the finest and most beautiful one that ever was seen. Perhaps he does not quite come up afterward to the expectations of his fond parents; but at least he is remarkable in some way. He is a very clever boy, or a very good boy, or, at any rate, he could be if he wanted to; he has got it in him; he is much finer in some respects, perhaps in a great many, than the common run. He is going to turn out a great man; he is much more likely to be President of the United States than any other boy of his age. And by the time he has got to man's estate he has a good deal of the same opinion himself. He does not like to have it even hinted that he is at all below par in anything; or if it is plain, even to himself, that he is, then it is a thing of no consequence, or he could excel in it if he chose to. The sorest points are of course those in which his choosing would make no difference. The less said about these the better. Well, you know all this is what we call pride. Almighty God has mercifully arranged it so that it is generally knocked out of us to some extent as we travel on through the world; but still a good deal of it remains. It is a thing that gives us a great deal of trouble of mind, and which generally keeps us back a great deal from really excelling in anything. It is a thing, therefore, which it is good to get rid of as soon as we can; and of course, therefore, you all want to know how to do this. I think the Gospel story of to-day throws some light on this point. {363} The way to do it is the way of the publican, and the way not to do it is that of the Pharisee. And the way of the publican is that of common sense, too. What is it? It is lo look at and consider our defects, and not our strong points. The publican might have talked like the Pharisee, too. He might have said: "I am a much better fellow than that old Pharisee. I am a good, hearty, generous soul. I treat my friends to the best I have got; and if I do cheat sometimes a little in business I make up for it in charity; and I don't make a show of the good I do and put on a pretence of religion like those canting hypocrites." And so he might have gone on to the end of the chapter. But he didn't. No; he just went off in a corner all by himself and said: "O God! be merciful to me a sinner." He did not think about his virtues, but about his sins; and when he asked the Lord to be merciful to him he meant that he wanted to amend his life, and was going to do it with the help of God, and imitate the Pharisee, whom he really thought better than himself; for you see he did not think of the sins of the Pharisee, but of his virtues. I say that his way was of common sense. It is the way we all follow when at work on anything except ourselves. We look at the defects in our work, and not its excellences; and if we have very good sense it seems to us pretty much all defects. Humility, then, after all, is only common sense. And I think you ought to see pretty well one reason at least why, as our Lord says, he that exalteth himself shall be humbled, and he that humbleth himself exalted. {364} The one who exalts himself, who stops to look at his virtues, is all the time running down, and losing even the little virtue that he admires; while he that really humbles himself is constantly getting better. So humility is necessary for progress. It is so in the things of this world even, and much more so in our spiritual affairs. ----------------- {365} _Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 1 _Corinthians xv._ 1-10. Brethren: I make known unto you the gospel which I preached to you, which also you have received, and wherein you stand: by which also you are saved, if you hold fast after what manner I preached to you, unless you have believed in vain. For I delivered to you first of all, which I also received: how that Christ died for our sins, according to the Scriptures: and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day, according to the Scriptures: and that he was seen by Cephas, and after that by the eleven. Then was he seen by more than five hundred brethren at once, of whom many remain until this present, and some are fallen asleep. After that he was seen by James, then by all the apostles. And last of all, he was seen also by me, as by one born out of due time. For I am the least of the apostles, who am not worthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace in me hath not been void. Gospel. _St. Mark vii._ 31-37. At that time: Jesus going out of the borders of Tyre, came by Sidon to the sea of Galilee, through the midst of the territories of Decapolis. And they bring to him one that was deaf and dumb; and they besought him to lay his hand upon him. And taking him aside from the multitude, he put his fingers into his ears, and spitting, he touched his tongue: and looking up to heaven, he groaned, and said to him: Ephpheta, which is, Be opened. And immediately his ears were opened, and the string of his tongue was loosed, and he spoke right. And he charged them that they should tell no man. {366} But the more he charged them so much the more a great deal did they publish it. And so much the more did they wonder, saying: He hath done all things well; he hath made both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak. -------------------- Sermon CIX. _He hath made both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak._ --St. Mark vii. 37. Our Saviour, in his ministry on earth, no doubt cured a great many deaf and dumb people. The story of this particular cure has been preserved for us on account of the peculiar and significant way in which he performed it. The memory of it is renewed every time that a child is baptized in the Catholic Church. In the ceremonies of baptism the priest, who represents our Lord in this as in all other sacraments, touches the nostrils and the ears of the infant or adult with his thumb moistened with the saliva of his mouth, saying this same word, "Ephpheta"--that is, "Be opened." Now, the child or grown person who is brought to baptism is not, as a general thing, deaf or destitute of any of the senses, and the priest does not, in performing this ceremony, work what we should commonly call a miracle, as our Lord did in the cure of this deaf and dumb man. But in baptism what we may call a miracle, because it is so wonderful, though so common, is worked; or rather not one miracle but many. One of them--the one represented by this action of the priest, and also by that of our Saviour in the Gospel--is the opening of the spiritual senses by the words which come from the mouth of God. {367} This opening of the spiritual senses is a much greater blessing than the opening of the bodily ears. But, unfortunately, most of us who are baptized do not preserve this great grace. As we grow up, instead of seeing and hearing better and better all the time with our spiritual eyes and ears, as we do with our bodily ones, we are too apt to lose the use of them altogether. They get covered over and choked up with the dust of this world; and, after a while, though having eyes we do not see, and having ears we do not hear. So there are a great many deaf and dumb people besides those who are commonly called so. These deaf and dumb people, however, often talk a good deal, and hear, as it would seem, pretty much everything that is to be heard. But there is only a very little of all the immense amount of talk that comes from their mouths that is of any use to themselves or to their neighbors, and that which they happen to hear that might be of use to them seems to go in at one ear and out at the other. What is it that the spiritual ear ought to hear? It is the voice of God. The Holy Ghost is all the time speaking to us, either by his own inspirations in our hearts, by our guardian angels, by the voice of the clergy who preach with his authority and in his name, by good books, or by some other means. But we do not listen to his voice; we do not let it reach the ears of our soul, though it may those of our body; and so those ears of the soul, from want of practice, get so deaf that they cannot hear it, though it sound ever so plainly. {368} And so, becoming deaf, we become dumb also. You know that is always the way. When a person cannot hear at all he is apt to forget how to speak. This is the case with people who become deaf to God's voice. First they do not try to hear it, either because they are careless, or because they do not want to; they stifle his inspirations; they never think of such a thing as reading a spiritual book, and if they listen to sermons it is only to criticise the preacher, not to hear the word of God, which they could find in any Catholic sermon, if they chose. And so, not hearing his voice, their spirit loses its tongue; they forget to pray to him, or, if they do pray, it is only with the lips and not with the heart; they forget to say anything for him or about him to their neighbor; and, worst perhaps of all, they forget to go to confession. That is where their tongues are specially tied. Sometimes they even imagine that if they should go to confession they would have nothing to tell. To be spiritually deaf and dumb is a great deal worse than to have no bodily senses at all. A man may live without those senses just as with them; but when he is spiritually deaf and dumb, it means that his soul is dead. If, then, you are in this state, or falling into it, rouse yourself while there is time, and beg of our Lord to open your ears that you may hear his voice plainly, for it will not speak to you much more; and to loose your tongue, that it may give glory to his name before you die. ------------------------- {369} Sermon CX. _He hath made both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak._ --St. Mark vii. 37. There are a good many people, my dear brethren, who are afflicted with a deafness and dumbness a great deal worse than that of the poor man whose cure is recorded in to-day's Gospel. You all know several such people, I think; perhaps you are acquainted with quite a number; it may be even that you are such yourselves. The trouble with the poor man whom our Lord cured was only in his body; the trouble with these people of whom I speak is in their souls. He was deaf and dumb corporally; they are deaf and dumb spiritually. Who are these unfortunate people? They are those who are in the state of mortal sin; who are living day after day in that state, and have been, perhaps, for years. Their souls are deaf; for God is calling to them continually to repent, and they refuse to hear him. Their souls are dumb; for they have had for a long time a confession to make, and that confession is not yet made. As I said just now, you all know such people. They are easily known. They are the people who let Easter after Easter go by without approaching the sacraments. Their life may be evidently bad; or perhaps, on the other hand, it may seem to be pretty good. They go, it may be, quite regularly to Mass, and observe some of the other laws of the church. But there is one which they neglect, and that is the one which shows their true character. That is the precept of the yearly confession. {370} When it comes to that either they are honest enough to say: "I cannot make up [my] mind to give up my sins, so it will be no use for me to go to confession," or they are dishonest enough to make some wretched excuse, such as: "I have too much reverence for the sacraments to receive them without due preparation, and I have not time to prepare," or, "I am sure I don't know what I would have to say to the priest; I can't think what you people are bothering him for all the time." My dear brethren, people that make excuses of this kind are like ostriches. These birds, it is said, when pursued, hide their heads in the sand to avoid being seen, leaving their whole bodies exposed. Excuses like these never deceived anybody yet, and never will. Everybody knows that if a man refuses to go to his confession when the church requires him to do so, the reason is that he is living in a way that his conscience reproaches him for, and that he does not choose to live in any other way. Everybody knows that if a man's conscience is really clear he will be very willing to go to the priest and tell him so; and everybody knows that everybody has time to prepare. No, the fact is that these Christians who live in the state of sin and neglect of their duties are, if not already quite deaf and dumb spiritually, at least rapidly becoming so. Every day the voice of the Holy Ghost is sounding more and more faintly in their ears; every day, instead of bringing them nearer to a good confession, puts them farther away from it. Every day the cure of their spiritual deafness and dumbness is getting more and more difficult, and needing more of a miracle of God's grace to accomplish it. They are like travellers who lie down to rest in the Alpine snows and wake only in the next world. {371} If any of you, my dear brethren in Christ, who are now here and listen to my voice, which is another call from him to you, are in this fearful state, or are falling into it, may he work that miracle and bring you back to your senses! But whether he is to work it or not depends very much upon yourself. Rouse yourself, then, and ask him to do so while you are yet able. For a time is coming, and that soon, but too late for you, when he will make you hear and speak indeed, whether you will or no; when the thunders of his eternal judgment shall sound in your ears, and when you will have to confess your sins, not to one man in secret, but before all men and all the angels and saints; and not with the hope of forgiveness, but with the certainty of condemnation. God grant that you may save your soul before that dreadful day, and be able to say with thankfulness, not with terror and despair: "He hath made both the deaf to hear and the dumb to speak." --------------------- Sermon CXI. _And taking him aside from the multitude._ --St. Mark vii. 33. I suppose there is no trouble more common to people in the practice of their religion, whether they are particularly pious or not, than distractions at prayer. One's thoughts, perhaps, are pretty well under control while employed in the usual duties of the day; but as soon as the time comes to get on one's knees before God, away go the thoughts over everything under the sun except the words which are in the prayer-book. {372} It really is quite discouraging sometimes; it appears as if our Lord did not want to speak to us or to have us speak to him. But we know that this is not so. How, then, shall we account for our not hearing his voice, and not being able to say anything worth his hearing, when we set out to pray? How is it that we are so deaf and dumb in his presence? There are various reasons, no doubt, my brethren, but there is one common to almost all people living in the world; and I think it was this which our Saviour wished to suggest to us when he took the deaf and dumb man aside from the multitude, as we read in to-day's Gospel, before he would work his cure. He could have cured the man where he was; but he took him aside from the multitude, he got him away from the crowd in which he was, to show us, as it seems to me, that we cannot be cured of our spiritual deafness and dumbness, that we shall never be able to hear God or to speak to him as we should, till we, too, come out of the crowd. This living all the time in a crowd is really the most common and most fatal obstacle to prayer, at least with those who are really trying to serve God. It is not always that there are so very many people around us; we may make a crowd, a multitude for ourselves out of a very few. The crowd is not so much one of people as of ideas coming from the people and things which we meet with in our daily life. We talk too much; we look around and notice things too much; we read the papers too much--too much for our profit in any way, but especially for acquiring the spirit of prayer. {373} What wonder is it that it is so hard to pray, and that there are so many distractions? One kneels down at the end of the day and tries to say some evening prayers. There is not a single thought in his or her head like those which are in the prayer-book. And why not? Because there is no room for any. The poor head is packed full of all sorts of other ones coming from the events of the past day or week. All the people one has seen, all the foolish things they have said, the gossip they have retailed, even the clothes they have worn, or perhaps the stories or squibs and the useless and trifling news one has seen in the paper, take up the mind; there is a multitude of reflections and echoes from the sights and sounds of the day, which hide the face of God and drown his voice. It is in vain to say that one cannot help it. Of course one cannot separate one's self from these things altogether. Those who live a life of prayer in the most secluded convent, even the hermits of the desert, have sources of distraction around them and in their past lives. But what is the need of having so many of them? Why not hear less talk and gossip, see fewer people and things, read less useless trash, cultivate silence a little more, and make a little solitude within ourselves, even when we cannot have it outside? If we will not do this, if we will distract ourselves needlessly out of the time of prayer, what wonder if we are distracted in it? {374} Come out of the multitude, then--the multitude of people that surround you, and of unnecessary thoughts, words, and actions, and see if your spiritual deafness and dumbness will not get better. You will hear a good deal from God, and be able to say a good deal to him that seems impossible now, if you will get a little away from this crowd, and from the noise it makes. ------------------------- {375} _Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 2 _Corinthians iii._ 4-9. Brethren: Such confidence we have, through Christ towards God. Not that we are sufficient to think anything of ourselves as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is from God. Who also hath made us fit ministers of the new testament, not in the letter, but in the Spirit. For the letter killeth; but the Spirit giveth life. Now if the ministration of death, engraven with letters upon stones, was glorious, so that the children of Israel could not steadfastly behold the face of Moses, for the glory of his countenance, which is done away: how shall not the ministration of the Spirit be rather in glory? For if the ministration of condemnation be glory, much more the ministration of justice aboundeth in glory. Gospel. _St. Luke x._ 23-37. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: Blessed are the eyes that see the things which you see. For I say to you that many prophets and kings have desired to see the things that you see, and have not seen them: and to hear the things that you hear, and have not heard them. And behold a certain lawyer stood up, tempting him, and saying: Master, what must I do to possess eternal life? But he said to him: What is written in the law? how readest thou? He answering, said: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind: and thy neighbor as thyself." And he said to him: Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live. But he, willing to justify himself, said to Jesus: And who is my neighbor? {376} And Jesus answering, said: A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, who also stripped him, and having wounded him, went away, leaving him half dead. And it happened that a certain priest went down the same way, and seeing him, he passed by. In like manner also a Levite, when he was near the place and saw him, passed by. But a certain Samaritan being on his journey came near him; and seeing him was moved with compassion. And going up to him, bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine: and setting him upon his own beast, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And the next day he took out two pence, and gave to the host, and said: Take care of him: and whatsoever thou shalt spend over and above, I at my return will repay thee. Which of these three in thy opinion was neighbor to him that fell among the robbers? But he said: He that showed mercy to him. And Jesus said to him: Go and do thou in like manner. ------------------- Sermon CXII. _Which of these three in thy opinion was neighbor to him that fell among the robbers? But he said: He that showed mercy to him. And Jesus said to him: Go and do thou in like manner._ --St. Luke x. 36, 37. You would not think it a compliment if one should say that you were a bad neighbor, for that would mean that you were quarrelsome and tale-bearing, that you kept late and noisy hours, that you beat the neighbors' children; perhaps that you would steal something, if you got the chance. So none of us would like to be called a bad neighbor. But let us see how good a neighbor we are, using our Blessed Lord's words read to-day as a text. {377} As we pass along the road of life here and there we see a neighbor lying half dead. He is stricken down with sickness; his body tormented with racking pains, burning with fever, and perhaps deserted by all--not one left to give him a drink of cold water. What kind of a neighbor are we to this poor brother of ours? When we hear him moan and cry, and ask for a bite of nourishing food, for a little money to buy some medicine, does our heart soften towards him, do we kindly assist him, or do we pass on as if we saw him not, hard of heart like the degraded Jewish priest or the self-sufficient Levite? And we come across many a poor creature who has fallen among the worst kind of thieves--viz., those who have stripped him of his good name. Alas! you are often forced to stand by and see and hear your neighbor deprived of his reputation by scandal-mongers. How do you act in that case? Does your heart burn with sympathy for him? Do you raise your voice in his defence? Do you correct your children when they engage in such talk? Do you turn out of your house those notorious backbiters and tale-bearers of your neighborhood when they begin their poisonous gossip? If you act in this way you are a good neighbor, a good Samaritan to an outraged and dying brother. But if you fail in this--if you hold your peace when you could say a good word of praise or excuse; if you permit those subject to you to talk ill of others; if you let your house be made a gossip-shop--then, by your silence and your consent, you are like the priest and Levite of this day's Gospel. And if you join in backbiting, why you are worse yet; you are yourself a robber of your neighbors dearest possession, his good name. {378} But O my brethren! what lot so sad as that of the poor wretch who has fallen into the clutches of Satan and his devils, who has been robbed of God's very grace, his soul killed by mortal sin? The ways of life are full of such poor sufferers. Oh! what pity have you for the poor sinner? What prayers do you offer to God for the conversion of the sinner? What warnings and exhortations do you give him, especially if he be dear to you by ties of blood? What example do you set him? I fear that some of us despise the poor sinner, and feel quite too holy to seek him out, to invite him to hear a sermon, to ask him to come and get the pledge, to try and get him into good company. Brethren, may God give us grace to be good Samaritans; to have a tender heart and a generous hand for Christ's poor and sick and outcast; to have a charitable word for the saving of our neighbor's good name; and, above all, to be always ready to bind up the spiritual wounds of the sinner by our prayers and example, and to pour healing oil upon them by our exhortations! Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ----------------------- Sermon CXIII. There are two opposite faults to both of which almost everybody is more or less inclined. The first of these is meddling with other people's business; the second is shirking one's own. It is rather the second of these than the first which is rebuked in the Gospel of to-day, in the persons of the priest and the Levite who went by without helping the poor wounded man. {379} Now, in the first place, let me explain what I mean by shirking one's own business or duties. It is not simply leaving them undone and expecting that they will remain so; but it is putting off what one ought to do one's self on to somebody else, and expecting somebody else to do it for you. So it is, you see, just the opposite of meddling, which is trying to do somebody else's duty for him when he would prefer to do it himself. Now, this shirking was just what the priest and Levite were guilty of. I do not suppose that our Lord meant to describe them as really hard-hearted men, willing to let the poor man die rather than help him; but they said to themselves, "Oh! this is not my business particularly; there are plenty of other people passing along this road all the time, and I am a little hurried now. I have got a deal to attend to, and there will be somebody coming this way before long. Five minutes or so will not make much difference; and perhaps there is not so much the matter with the man after all. It may be his own fault. Very likely he has been drinking. At any rate, he has got no special claim on me." This is a very natural state of mind for a person to get into, and how common it is, in such a case as this, we can see from the common proverb that "everybody's business is nobody's business." There are very many good works that really are everybody's business, that everybody ought to do something towards at least, but which are in great danger of not being done at all on account of this habit of shirking which is so common. And the ones which are most in this danger are those of the kind of which this Gospel gives us an example; that is, works of charity toward our neighbor. {380} People say to themselves, just as the priest and Levite did: "Oh! there are plenty of other people that can attend to this matter a great deal better and easier than I can. I am sure it will be done somehow or other. Such things always are attended to. I don't feel specially called on to help in it." Well, this might be all very good, if those people did really help in some things generously, and the case before them was one of no very urgent need. Of course we cannot contribute to everything. But the difficulty is that too often we find them shirking, not occasionally, but all the time. If a poor man comes to the door, or a collection is taken for the poor in the church, they say to themselves: "The St. Vincent de Paul Society can look out for those things; I am sure they must have money enough. I shall do my duty if I put a few pennies in the poor-box now and then." If contributions are called for in times of famine or pestilence, they say: "There is plenty coming in to supply all that is wanted; I can see that by the papers. They can get along very well without me." And so it goes all the way through. They do not give anything to anybody or do anything for anybody--that is, nothing to speak of--without getting a return for it. They will go to picnics, fairs, or amusements for a charitable object; but when it comes to doing anything simply for the love of their neighbor, that is left for somebody else. Let us all, then, my brethren, examine ourselves on this point, and resolve to amend and to do our fair share of the work of charity, which is everybody's business; and not, like the priest and the Levite, pass it on to the next man who comes along. --------------------- {381} Sermon CXIV. _But he, willing to justify himself, said to Jesus: And who is my neighbor?_ --St. Luke x. 29. The lawyer of whom the Gospel tells us to-day, my brethren, seems to have wanted to be excused from loving everybody, and to find out just how far the circle of his affections must be extended; or, at least, to get our Lord's opinion on that point. The question which he asked was something like that of St. Peter when he enquired how often he must forgive his brother; though I hardly think the lawyer was as much in earnest as the great Prince of the Apostles to know the answer. Well, our Saviour, as you see, did not answer the question directly, but told a story which is, or should be, familiar to all of you: the story of the good Samaritan. He made the Samaritan give his judgment on the point, and then approved that judgment. "Which of these three," he asked of the lawyer after telling him the story, "was neighbor to him that fell among the robbers?" That is, "Which of the three seems to have considered the poor fellow to be his neighbor?" "The Samaritan," replied the lawyer, of course, "because he showed love for him." "Very well, then," said our Lord, "adopt his opinion, for it is the right one. Go and do thou in like manner." And yet what reason had the Samaritan to consider this man to be his neighbor? He must naturally have supposed him to be a Jew, finding him so near to Jerusalem; and the Samaritans had no very neighborly feeling toward the Jews. {382} The Samaritans and Jews were, in fact, very much like cats and dogs to each other. You may read in the chapter of the Gospel just preceding this how the inhabitants of a certain place in Samaria would not let our Lord into it, simply because he seemed to be going to Jerusalem; and in another of the towns of the Samaritans a woman thought it strange that our Lord, being a Jew, should even presume to ask her for a drink of water. And though this was a good Samaritan who was passing over that road between Jerusalem and Jericho, still he must have had some of the feelings of his people. The reason why the good Samaritan considered the man his neighbor is, then, plain enough. If he regarded a Jew as his neighbor it was because he regarded every one as such. That was the judgment of his which our Divine Lord approved. Let there be no limit to your charity. Love every one; that is the meaning of his command, just as he told St. Peter to forgive any number of times. But how few there are who obey this law of his! Some only care for their relations or acquaintances, and regard the rest of the world with the most supreme indifference. Others, on the contrary, live in a perpetual quarrel with almost every one whom they know, though very willing to be friendly with strangers. Others stop at the limit of their own nation or race; a man who is so unfortunate as to speak a foreign language or have a skin somewhat darkly colored is quite beyond the reach of their benevolence. {383} It is plain enough that this is all wrong. If we would be like our Lord, and do as he commands, we must get over all these feelings. Above all, we must sink for ever out of sight those hateful standing quarrels which are more after the devil's own heart than anything else which he finds in this world; we must drop at once all that humbug about not wishing any harm to Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so, but being never going to speak to them again. It is not enough to wish no harm to any one; we must wish good to every one, and try to do every one all the good that comes in our way; make up our minds to feel kindly to every one, and to show every one that we are willing and anxious to act as we feel. Of course there must be degrees in affection; we are not required to love every one as much as a father or mother, or a son or a daughter; but that no one must be excluded from it; that we must have a positive love for all; that it will not do even to pass by with indifference a single one of our brethren, however seemingly estranged from us--this is the lesson taught us by the parable of the priest, the Levite, and the good Samaritan. ---------------------- {384} _Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Galatians iii._ 16-22. Brethren: To Abraham were the promises made, and to his seed. He saith not, "And to his seeds," as of many; but as of one, "And to thy seed," who is Christ. Now this I say, that the testament which was confirmed by God, the law which was made after four hundred and thirty years, doth not disannul, to make the promise of no effect. For if the inheritance be of the law, it is no more of promise. But God gave it to Abraham by promise. Why then was the law? It was set because of transgressions, until the seed should come, to whom he made the promise, being ordained by angels in the hand of a mediator. Now, a mediator is not of one: but God is one. Was the law then against the promises of God? God forbid. For if there had been a law given which could give life, verily justice should have been by the law. But the Scripture hath concluded all under sin, that the promise by the faith of Jesus Christ might be given to them that believe. Gospel. _St. Luke xvii._ 11-19. At that time: As Jesus was going to Jerusalem, he passed through the midst of Samaria in Galilee. And as he entered into a certain town, there met him ten men that were lepers, who stood afar off: and lifted up their voice, saying: Jesus, master, have mercy on us. And when he saw them, he said: Go, show yourselves to the priests. And it came to pass that, as they went, they were cleansed. {385} And one of them, when he saw that he was cleansed, went back, with a loud voice glorifying God; and he fell on his face, before his feet, giving thanks: and this was a Samaritan. And Jesus answering, said; Were there not ten made clean? and where are the nine? There is no one found to return and give glory to God, but this stranger. And he said to him: Arise, go thy way, for thy faith hath made thee whole. --------------- Sermon CXV. _And as he entered into a certain town, there met him ten men that were lepers, who stood afar off._ --St. Luke xvii. 12. The leprosy is a most foul and loathsome disease which attacks the skin and sometimes spreads itself over almost the entire surface of the body. This pestilential disorder, besides the intense suffering it must cause, renders its victim an object of disgust and aversion to those around him. It seems to have been very prevalent in the East in former times, and during the middle ages it was quite common in Europe, where it was brought by the Crusaders returning from the wars carried on for the possession of the Holy Land. A man infected with leprosy was looked upon by the state as dead, and hence the disease was called civil death. The leper was cut off from all intercourse with his fellows, and compelled to live alone or in the company of other lepers. Leprosy, therefore, subjected a man to the most galling sort of exile, since it forced him to part from home and friends, and to tear asunder every tie which binds the heart of man to this earth and to his fellow-men. The holy Fathers have always regarded leprosy as a strong figure of sin. Sin spreads itself over the soul as leprosy does over the body, tainting and corrupting it, rendering it disgusting in the sight of its Maker, and forcing him to separate it from himself and the company of his angels and saints. {386} Sin, too, forces the soul into exile from God, its true home, and severs all those endearing attachments which cluster round the thought of home. In this sense all mortal sin is a spiritual leprosy; but the one sin which deserves the name above all others is the sin of impurity, because it defiles body and soul alike, and is more infectious even than the ancient leprosy of the East. Impurity not only reproduces its pestilential self, but has, besides, the sickening power of engendering a horde of other frightful maladies distinct from, and only less disgusting than, itself. And yet, alas! impurity is now, as it was in the days of Noe, the crying sin of the world; a sin that is foreign to no class of society, to no order of civilization; a sin that each individual has to take constant and wearisome precautions against, if he would not be infected by its virus, which seems to permeate the very air we breathe, and lurk unseen in the meat and drink we take for the support of life. St. Clement of Alexandria calls impurity the metropolis of vices, by reason, doubtless, of the numberless other vices which are born of it and make their home around it. This leprosy of the soul, impurity, is worse than any leprosy of the body, inasmuch as the death of the soul is an infinitely greater evil than that of the body. God has at times allowed some of his saints to experience something of the foulness which the sin of impurity inflicts on the soul of the one who commits it. So it was with St. Euthymius and St. Catherine of Siena, who discovered impure persons by the stench which emanated from their presence. {387} It were well, perhaps, if all innocent persons possessed this rare gift of some of God's saints, for they might then easily avoid contracting from others the foul leprosy of impurity. No one, indeed, can look for a grace so extraordinary, but every one who has charge of others, especially of the young, should take every means suggested by wisdom and experience to preserve them from contact with persons already infected with this vile pestilence. A brief conversation with one badly tainted with the leprosy of impurity is oftentimes enough to implant its seeds in young and innocent hearts; and once the seeds are planted, they are hardly, if ever, entirely uprooted. Leprosy not only attacked persons, but was found also in garments and in houses. So it is with the contagion of impurity, which not only watches its victim from the muddy eye of the libertine, but hides itself also in the folds of the lascivious dress, by which it is scattered abroad, and clings like some noxious vapor to the walls of houses where wanton deeds are done and loose language spoken. From all such persons, and things, and places keep the young and the innocent afar off. Let us remember that those only who love cleanness of heart shall have the King of heaven for their friend; and as we know from Holy Scripture that we cannot be chaste unless God gives us power to be so, let us ask him fervently and frequently for this most royal of all royal gifts, the gift of purity. Let us put aside all pride of heart, which, more than anything else, would provoke Almighty God to leave us to our own weakness and folly. Impurity is the lewd daughter of pride, while humility is the chaste mother of purity. {388} Finally, brethren, let us all listen to the exhortation of St. Paul, and walk in the love of Christ, and let not fornication and uncleanness be so much as named among us; nor obscenity, nor foolish talking, nor scurrility, but rather giving of thanks (Ephesians. v. 5-6). Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------- Sermon CXVI. _And it came to pass, as they went, they were cleansed._ --St. Luke xvii. 14. You will find people who go to the sacraments pretty regularly sometimes giving rather a strange excuse when they have been away longer than usual. They will say, "My mind was upset," or "I had a falling out with my neighbor"; and they seem to think that, of course it was out of the question to go to confession till their minds got right side up again, or till they were thoroughly at peace with themselves and all the world. And you will find people who do not go to the sacraments regularly, who, in fact, have not been for a long time, and who make a similar excuse for staying away--that is, that they are not in good dispositions to receive absolution. These people also think that they should not go to confession till in some way or another they have got in good dispositions. It is natural enough, perhaps, that both these kinds of people should think as they do. They want, of course, to make a really good confession. They would not like to receive absolution feeling just as they do now; so they put it off till some time when their dispositions will be improved; but they make a great mistake, and lose a great deal of time by doing so. {389} The mistake which they make is in not understanding that the preparation for confession which they could make with their present dispositions is the best way for getting them into better ones. They might learn a salutary lesson from the Gospel of to-day. You will have noticed, if you have listened to it carefully, that the poor men whom our Lord cured were simply told by him to go and show themselves to the priests, and that they set off, with the defilement of the leprosy still upon them, to obey his commands. They might very well have excused themselves by saying that they were not fit to go before the priests; and it would have been very true that they wore not. For, according to the law of the Jews, it was only lepers who had already been cured who were to show themselves to the priests; just as now it is only sinners who are penitent who can ask for absolution. The priests of the Old Law could not cure the leprosy, any more than those of the New Law can absolve a sinner before he repents. But, nevertheless, they went, though it seemed to be of no use for them to go. And what happened to them on the road? Why, it happened, as the Gospel tells us, that as they went they were made clean. Now, this, as I have said, has a lesson and a meaning for such as now are laboring under any spiritual disease or disorder, be it small or great, which is keeping them from the sacraments. The remedy for them, as for these men of whose cure we read in this Gospel, is to set out to show themselves to the priests; that is, to prepare themselves for confession. If they do they also will be cured on the way. {390} I will venture to say that if those Catholics throughout the world who now feel themselves in any way indisposed for absolution would go to a church at the next opportunity, kneel down by a confessional, say a few prayers in earnest, examine their consciences, and then go in when their turn should come--and these are surely things that any one can do--far the greater part of them would be in good dispositions for absolution before it was time for the priest to give it. Some time, perhaps when they were on the way to the church, perhaps when they were kneeling and trying to prepare themselves, perhaps not till they were telling their sins or receiving the priest's advice, but some time or other the affection to sin or the temptation which now disturbs the peace of their souls would be taken away. Why, then, not try such a simple remedy? If you really want to recover the health of your soul set out to make your confession, to show yourself to the priest, whether you feel it or not. If you will believe me, depend on it, it shall also be true for you that your faith shall make you whole. ---------------------- Sermon CXVII. _Were not ten made clean? and where are the nine?_ --St. Luke xvii. 17. How often, my brethren, has our Lord been obliged to ask this question and to make this reproach! Times there have been when your souls were suffering from the leprosy of sin, times when the sight of your defilement, the pangs of a guilty conscience, roused you to a sense of your unhappy state, and you have raised your voice and cried out, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on me." {391} And he, who is goodness and compassion, has looked upon you, and bid you show yourself to the priest, and you have been healed. But have you followed the example of the one grateful leper--have you gone back to thank him? Have you prostrated yourself before him, mindful of the greatness of the favor, and in word and deed, by fervent prayer, by humility, by a new life, shown your gratitude? Or have you, like the nine, gone your way, thankful indeed, but with a momentary, imperfect, unspoken gratitude, because the greatness of the benefit was not dwelt upon? This ingratitude, which is so common, this forgetfulness, cannot be put before you too strongly or too often. At the coming of Jesus, during a mission or a jubilee, many call out to him to cleanse them; they go to confession and Communion, and for a time are healed of their leprosy. But because they so quickly go their way; because in the bustle of the world they neglect to come back to thank Jesus, their Master and Healer; because they do not separate themselves from and avoid infected persons and places, their old companions, their old haunt of drinking, the occasions of sin whatever they may be, therefore it is that the old malady returns. And as Jesus looks out on the few who come to his feet, to the Holy Communion, he is forced to exclaim in sorrow: "Were not ten made clean? where are the nine?" Alas! that we should so often wound that sensitive, loving Heart, that we should be so remiss in giving a return of thanks, that we should check the divine goodness and turn its very favors into a cause of our own condemnation at the great day of reckoning! {392} Ingratitude has always been considered, and deservedly, the worst of vices; it touches us more keenly than any other wrong or injury, it moves us with a sense of anger, sorrow, and aversion peculiar to itself, because it is an abuse or a forgetfulness of that which is highest and best in us--our love, and the effects of our love, our kindness. Yet God's benefits are innumerable, his love is infinite, his honor unspeakable, his power almighty. Many who call themselves Christians can find no time to thank him for the blessings of each day; many, whom he has healed from sin, go their way in forgetfulness; even those who do try to make some return, who do keep themselves in his grace and frequent the church and the sacraments, are often niggardly and ungenerous in their efforts. Does his grace move them to some sacrifice of their pride, their convenience, or their means? The kind word, the charitable act come, but oh! so slowly; the poor are dismissed with a trifling alms, the church-collector is an unwelcome visitor. Yet it is by these things we show our gratitude. Let us remember, brethren, that as God is infinitely bountiful himself, so he in turn loves a generous giver, and that his benefits bear a proportion to our return of thanks in words and in actions. -------------------- {393} _Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Galatians v._ 16-24. Brethren: I say then, walk in the spirit, and you shall not fulfil the lusts of the flesh. For the flesh lusteth against the spirit: and the spirit against the flesh; for these are contrary one to another: so that you do not the things that you would. But if you are led by the spirit, you are not under the law. Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are, fornication, uncleanness, immodesty, luxury, idolatry, witchcraft, enmities, contentions, emulations, wrath, quarrels, dissensions, sects, envy, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like. Of the which I foretell you, as I have foretold to you, that they who do such things shall not obtain the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the spirit is charity, joy, peace, patience, benignity, goodness, longanimity, mildness, faith, modesty, continency, chastity. Against such there is no law. And they that are Christ's, have crucified their flesh with the vices and concupiscences. Gospel. _St. Matthew vi._ 24-33. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: No man can serve two masters. For either he will hate the one, and love the other: or he will hold to the one, and despise the other. You cannot serve God and Mammon. Therefore I say to you, be not solicitous for your life, what you shall eat, nor for your body, what you shall put on. Is not the life more than the food, and the body more than the raiment? Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns: and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not you of much more value than they? {394} And which of you by thinking can add to his stature one cubit? And for raiment why are you solicitous? Consider the lilies of the field how they grow: they labor not, neither do they spin. And yet I say to you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as one of these. Now if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven: how much more you, ye of little faith? Be not solicitous therefore, saying: What shall we eat, or what shall we drink, or wherewith shall we be clothed? For after all these things do the heathen seek. For your Father knoweth that you have need of all these things. Seek ye, therefore, first the kingdom of God and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you. --------------------- Sermon CXVIII. _No man can serve two masters._ --St. Matthew vi. 24. Who is your master? Perhaps you think you are your own master. You may say, "I am a free man in a free country." But think a moment. Is your soul really free? Surely not; for you cannot hinder your thoughts from running backward and forward. Sometimes you think of the past in spite of yourself; you enjoy its sinful pleasures over again in your memory, or you again suffer pain at the bare recollection of past sorrows and trials. Nor can you hinder your soul from rushing into the future. You dream of success; you enjoy in anticipation the pleasures of gratified ambition. Now, why does your soul thus cling to the dead past; why does it strive to fly to the unborn future? Because your soul is a servant. And who is its master? Pleasure. Yes, and pleasure is so powerful a master that we obey and serve even its remembrance, its shadow. Indeed, I might say that we are slaves of pleasure rather than servants. {395} But this master takes different shapes. Sometimes he calls himself Fashion. Very many otherwise intelligent persons are servants of Fashion. Did you ever spend an hour looking at the drives in Central Park on a pleasant afternoon? There you can see men and women whirled along in carriages fit for kings to ride in, drawn by horses worth thousands of dollars--beasts whose trappings are fastened with gold-plated buckles--and coachmen and footmen dressed in showy livery. And why is all this parade? Because those who ride out in that style are servants. The name of their master and lord is Fashion; he demands all this extravagance of them, and they obey him. Follow them home, and you will see them again at his service, spending many thousand dollars in adorning their houses with the costliest furniture and decking their bodies, for Fashion's sake, with rich silks and gold: everything offered up on the altar of Fashion, though the poor of Christ are starving all around them. And many of the poor are servants. Who is the master of the poor? He is a devil, and his name is Drink. This devil of Drink must have a good share of a poor man's wages of a Saturday night. And as soon as a poor man loses work and loses courage this devil of Drink comes and whispers in his ear: "Be my servant and I will make you happy." And by this lie he entices the poor fellow into one of his dens, and there he makes him drunk, and from the bar-room he sends him home to be a scandal to his little children, and may be to beat his wretched wife. {396} Others this master sends from that liquor-store to steal, and so to prison and hopeless ruin; others he sends to brothels; many a one he afflicts with frightful diseases and sudden accidents, and so brings them to hell. Sometimes, too, this demon of Drink gathers his slaves together into a mob to murder and plunder, and then to be shot down by soldiers. O brethren! is it not strange that any one should be a servant of this devil. Drink? Yet he has countless slaves, and not only among the poor but in every station in life. But the strangest thing of all is that the foolish servants of sin and Satan fancy that they can at the same time be servants of Almighty God. They call themselves by Christ's name--Christians. They go to his church now and then: and although they have served Mammon all their days, they yet hope to enjoy God and his happiness for all eternity. Hence Jesus Christ in to-day's Gospel cries out in warning: "_You cannot serve two masters_." Hence in another place he says: "_Amen, amen I say unto you, that whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin_." So we have got to choose. We must be either servants of God or servants of Mammon; we cannot be both at once. Therefore, brethren, instead of giving our time, and money, and health, and heart, and soul to sinful pleasures, to lust and intemperance, and fashion and avarice--all cruel tyrants--let us have the good sense to enter the service of our blessed Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord and Master who made us, and who redeemed us, and who will judge us; whose yoke is sweet and whose burden is light; whose servants are innocent and happy in this life, and who shall enter with him into everlasting dwellings in the kingdom of heaven. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------- {397} Sermon CXIX. _The works of the flesh are manifest... Of the which I foretell you, as I have foretold to you, that they who do such things shall not obtain the kingdom of God._ --Galatians v. 19, 21. The works of the flesh--that is, the various ways in which the desires of the flesh can be gratified--have always been the chief obstacles presented by the world to our salvation. This was specially the case in St. Paul's day, when a corrupt and sensual civilization had been attained which placed the happiness of man in bodily pleasure. And it is also specially the case now more than at any other time since then; for a similar so-called civilization is the boast of the present age, in which the desires and appetites of the body are exalted above those of the soul. But the temptations of this modern age are more concealed than those of the former one; and on that account they are more dangerous to Christians than those of the time of St. Paul were. Satan has, we may say, learned wisdom by experience. At the present day, instead of shocking us by sins like these of the pagans, which could only repel and disgust those who had even the weakest love of God, he has learned to seduce the faithful by the gradual introduction of amusements and pleasures having the name of being innocent, making them worse and worse as the moral sense of those who engage in them, or who witness them, becomes more and more blunted. {398} A prominent example of such amusements is to be found in the dances which have become fashionable in the last few years. There can be no question at all that, had they been suddenly presented to our eyes not very long ago, every one, without hesitation, would have pronounced them sinful, and no one would have engaged in them who professed to have a delicate conscience; whereas now it is equally certain that very many people who are careful, and even scrupulous, profess to see no harm in these dangerous recreations. Let me not be understood to mean that dancing is in itself condemned by the law of God. There is no other harm in it, if it be done in a proper way, than the danger of excess and waste of time to which any amusement is liable. Nor is there any more harm in two people dancing together than in eight standing up in a set; and the particular measure of the music is a matter of no consequence. The harm is in the improper positions assumed in what are called round dances, and which have been lately brought into almost all others. These mutual positions of the parties, these embraces--for that they simply are--are in themselves evidently contrary to modesty and decency. It seems as if no one would have to stop, even a moment, to see and acknowledge this. A very plain proof of it, however, should it be needed, is that every person pretending to be respectable would blush to be detected in such positions on any other occasion, unless united to the other party by very near relationship or marriage. And let no one say that fashion justifies them. If it did it could justify every other indecency or impropriety. Neither fashion nor anything else can justify what is in itself wrong. {399} Nor is it true that they are not noticed or cared for by those who indulge in them; that they are indulged in only because the dance happens to be so arranged. That may be true for some persons; but there is, unfortunately, very little doubt that many only dance on account of these positions, and would not care about learning or practising this amusement were it not for the opportunity offered by it for them. This is a good enough straw to show which way the wind blows. The plain state of the case is this: To many these dances are, as one would expect, a remote, or even a proximate, occasion of sin, at least in thought, and sometimes in word and action. To many more they are a sensual excitement bordering on impurity. To many, it is true, they are simply an amusement; but this is due to the force of habit, aided by the grace of God, not to the natural state of the case. But for all they are paving the way--in fact, they have already done so--to things which are more plainly wrong; in fact, they themselves are becoming worse and worse all the time. One of the works of the flesh of which St. Paul speaks in this Epistle is immodesty. Take away the veil of concealment which the gradual introduction of this sensuous practice has put over your eyes, and see if it does not deserve that name. Do not defend yourselves by saying that some confessors allow it. They only allow it because they are afraid of keeping you altogether away from the sacraments; and they do not wish to do that, if in any way they can satisfy themselves that you have even the most imperfect dispositions with which you can be allowed to receive them. But it is better to be on the safe side. {400} There is no confessor who would not far rather that you should abandon this dangerous pastime, that you should cease to set this bad example. There is not one who would not be much consoled should you do so. I beg you, then, to give them that consolation. Give up these dances for God's sake, and for the sake of the salvation of your own soul and those of others. Give them up, and you will receive an abundant reward of grace in this world, and of glory in that which is to come. ----------------------- Sermon CXX. _No man can serve two masters._ --St. Matthew vi. 24. It is perhaps a little strange, my dear brethren, and not much of a compliment on the part of Christians to the wisdom of Him whose disciples they profess to be, that so great a part of them should spend their lives in trying to do what he so solemnly declares to be impossible. It is curious that so many, so very many, of them should never have made up their minds which shall be their master. Almighty God or the devil, but should be hopefully trying to serve both. Some there are--nay, many, if you take their absolute number--who have truly gone over, once for all and in real dead earnest, to God's side. They keep up a constant battle with temptation; if by weakness and surprise they fall for a moment, they pick themselves up again instantly by a sincere repentance and confession, and begin the fight again. They live in the grace and friendship of their Creator, and they are willing not only to be his friends but to be known as such; they are not ashamed to be pious, but would be very much ashamed to be anything else. {401} On the other hand, there are not a few who were put on God's side by baptism, but have gone over entirely to the camp of his enemy; who have sold themselves body and soul to the devil. These wretched traitors have denied their faith, and now perhaps even blaspheme or ridicule it; they give free rein to their favorite vices, whatever they may be; they have abandoned prayer, and have openly and even boastingly taken the road which leads to hell. You all know of such. In these days of apostasy many of you have such among your acquaintance. They have got Satan's mark on their foreheads, and they do not care to conceal it. But there is a very common kind of Christian who does not answer to either of these descriptions or belong to either of these parties, but is trying to get the advantages of both--to serve both masters, God and the devil, and get paid by both. He fulfils part of the divine law; he goes to Mass, sometimes at least; perhaps he does not eat meat on Friday; and now and then, it may be once a year, or on the occasion of a mission or jubilee, he puts in an appearance at a confessional and tells about the sins he has committed. He goes to Holy Communion, and seems to come over really and entirely to God's side. Well, perhaps he does come over, for a little while at least, a few days or weeks; but the chances are very great that he never really means to quit the other side for ever; or, it may be, at all. In his mind impure thoughts, words, and actions, drunkenness, and the pleasures of the devil generally, are a kind of necessity of life; he has no idea of really quitting them at once and for ever. His idea is to make a sort of a compromise with God; to do his "duty," as he calls it--that is, to keep in what he imagines to be the state of grace for a few hours or days now and then, and afterward go on as before. {402} He wants to serve the devil during life, and yet be acknowledged as God's servant at the end; in short, he tries to be the servant of two masters. Are there not many of you here, my friends, who have lived in this way all your lives, and mean to all the rest of the time that God spares you in this world? There are even many who have this intention on whose tongues the traces of his Body and Blood are yet fresh. How do I know? Because they are not resisting temptation; because they have not left the occasions of sin; because, instead of calling on God continually in prayer, they go on wantonly blaspheming his holy name; because the immodest jest is ready to come at any moment to their lips; because, instead of showing dislike to impiety in others, they acquiesce in it and applaud it; because, in short, they have not even begun the battle by which alone they can be saved. Brethren, this is not the way to live; this is not the way to prepare to die. If you will not be God's servants during life, the devil will claim you at the hour of your death, and get you, too, in spite of the last sacraments which you may receive. "Ha!" he will say to you, "you tried to serve two masters, did you? What a fool you were! You were mine all along. You tried to give God a share of your heart; know now, since you would not know it before, that he will not take less than the whole." ----------------------- {403} _Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost_. Epistle. _Galatians v._ 25; _vi._ 10. Brethren: If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. Let us not become desirous of vainglory, provoking one another, envying one another. And if a man can be overtaken in any fault, you, who are spiritual, instruct such a one in the spirit of mildness, considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted. Bear ye one another's burdens, and so shall you fulfil the law of Christ. For if any man think himself to be something, whereas he is nothing, he deceiveth himself. But let every one prove his own work, and so he shall have glory in himself only, and not in another. For every one shall bear his own burden. And let him who is instructed in the word communicate to him that instructeth him, in all good things. Be not deceived, God is not mocked. For what things a man shall sow, those also shall he reap. For he that soweth in the flesh, of the flesh also shall reap corruption. But he that soweth in the Spirit, of the Spirit shall reap life everlasting. And in doing good, let us not fail. For in due time we shall reap, not failing. Therefore, whilst we have time, let us do good to all men, but especially to those who are of the household of the faith. Gospel. _St. Luke vii._ 11-16. At that time: Jesus went into a city called Nain: and there went with him his disciples, and a great multitude. And when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold a dead man was carried out, the only son of his mother; and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said to her: Weep not. {404} And he came near and touched the bier. (And they that carried it stood still.) And he said: Young man, I say to thee, Arise. And he that was dead sat up and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother. And there came a fear on them all: and they glorified God, saying: That a great prophet is risen up among us: and God hath visited his people. ------------------- Sermon CXXI. _Behold a dead man was carried out._ --St. Luke vii. 12. The sight which our Lord saw, and which is recorded in to-day's Gospel, we have often seen. We can scarcely walk a mile or two in a great city without seeing a dead man carried out. The hearse, the funeral procession, the pall, the coffin, the sabled mourners, are all familiar and every-day objects. Again, we read of death every day. We find in the newspapers, the hospital reports, and so forth, death in a thousand shapes. We see that death waits for us at every corner of the street, that it lurks in the river, hovers in the atmosphere, hides in our very bodies, is concealed even in our pleasures. Again and again we have heard the beating of its heavy wings and seen the clutch of its clammy fingers--sometimes in our own houses, sometimes in our neighbors', sometimes on the sea, sometimes on land, sometimes in the busy street, sometimes in the silent chamber. Strange to say, however, although nothing is better known than death, nothing is more forgotten. We hear people saying every day, "How shall we live?" but seldom do they ever think of adding, "and how shall we die?" {405} My brethren, every one of you here this morning _must_ die. There will come an hour when your heart will cease to beat, when you will close your eyes and fold your hands in death, and when, like the dead man in the Gospel, you will "be carried out." O brethren! how are you preparing for that supreme moment? Are you ready _now_, at this moment, to die? If you are not you ought to be. Let us, then, see how we should prepare ourselves. Above all things you should never forget death. When you see other men die, when you read of death, when you see the priest in black vestments, and hear the sweet tones of the choristers chanting the solemn requiem, then you should say to yourselves, "It may be my turn next." Keep death always before your eyes; then when it comes you will not shrink from its touch. Again, keep your conscience clear, and make every confession and Communion as if it were to be your last. How many have come to their duties on Saturday and Sunday, and on Monday have departed for ever from this world! The earth, dearly beloved, is a vast field, and Death with his sharp scythe toils in it every day. Blade after blade, flower after flower, tender plant and fragrant herb, fall beneath his sweeping blows every hour, every second. You may now be as the grass that is the most distant from the steel: there may be acres upon acres between you and the severing blade, but the strong, patient mower is nearing you slowly but surely. Listen! listen! and you will catch the sharp hiss of his scythe and hear the murmur of the falling grass. Oh! then be ready, with girded loins and burning lamp. Be ready, for you know not when death shall come. Be ready, with clear conscience and well-cared for soul, for the last great hour. {406} Lastly, pray to St. Joseph that you may obtain the grace of a happy death. Go to his altar; kneel at his feet and say, "dear spouse of our Lady and foster-father of Jesus Christ! obtain for me to die, as thou didst, in the arms of Jesus and Mary, and to remain with them and thee in the paradise of God." Beloved, death is nearing, death is coming. Oh! then, I beseech you, neglect not these words of warning and advice. "Here we have not an abiding city, but seek one to come," even the heavenly Jerusalem, the City of God, which shines above. The gate of that city is a good and Christian death. God grant, then, that through that blessed portal we all may pass, lest we be left cold and shivering in the black night of the outer darkness! Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------ Sermon CXXII. _If we live in the spirit, let us also walk in the spirit._ --Galatians v. 25. There is a saying which, in Latin, runs as follows: "_Dum vivimus, vivamus._" Put into English, it is: "While we live let us live"; or, to bring out the idea more clearly: "While we live let us make the most of life." It is a saying which has always been very popular with infidels. We have this life, they say--it is our own; but we do not know what is coming after it, or, indeed, if anything at all is; so, while we have it, let us use it; there is not much of it, and it will soon be gone, but it is ours now. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush; so, then, "_Dum vivimus, vivamus_"--while we live let us make the most of life. {407} Now, the Christian idea of life and the way to use it is somewhat different from that of the infidel. A Christian does know what is coming after this life; he knows that this short life is only a preparation for the next, which is eternal; he knows that pursuing the pleasure of this world, after the infidel fashion, will endanger his salvation; and if he values his salvation--that is to say, if he has common sense--he looks out for the life of his soul rather than that of his body, so that he may always be ready for death when it shall come. And he has a fear of pleasure, rather than a desire of it, on account of its danger; he crucifies the flesh, with its vices and concupiscences, as St. Paul says in the conclusion of the Epistle of last Sunday, that it may be subject to the soul, instead of subjecting the soul to itself. He makes up his mind, in short, to live in the spirit instead of the flesh; and in that, as I have said, he shows his common sense. But when he has got as far as that his common sense seems too often to fail him. He ought then to come back to the maxim of the infidel; for it is a very sensible one in itself, the only trouble with it being that the infidel has the wrong idea of life. It would be all right for the Christian. The Christian ought to say--you and I, my dear brethren, ought to say: "_Dum vivimus, vivamus_." Or, in the words of St. Paul in the beginning of today's Epistle, which immediately follows that of last Sunday, we ought to say: "If we live in the spirit, let us also walk in the spirit." {408} That is, if we are going to live in the spirit rather than in the flesh, let us make the most of our spiritual life. Let us enjoy it, advance in it, and get all out of it that we can. We have, indeed, much more reason to say so than the man of the world; for not only shall we have more of it in the next world for all that we get out of it now, but there is much more to be got out of it even here than out of the life of the body. And yet many, perhaps most, good Christians content themselves with simply keeping in the state of grace and avoiding sin. They just keep themselves spiritually alive, and that is all. They are like misers, who starve in the midst of their gold. There are pleasures for them, even in this world, far above what it can itself give, and they do little or nothing to obtain them. Something has to be done to obtain them, of course. It is the same, however, with bodily pleasure, and those who seek it know that. Many a man has made a slave of himself all his life to get a few years of ease and comfort at the end of it. Why should not we do the same for the comfort of our souls? Something has to be done, but not so much after all. A little more earnestness in prayer; a little more fidelity in meditation and spiritual reading; a little more care to uproot our evil habits; a little more charity and spirit of sacrifice for our brethren; and, last but not least, a little mortification beyond what is forced on us, or what is necessary to avoid sin, and the reward would soon come. Temptations would be lighter; the struggle would be easier; God would come nearer to us; and that dawn would rise in our hearts which is brighter than the lights which earthly hands can kindle, and which is the sure fore-runner of the eternal day. ---------------------- {409} Sermon CXXIII. _Let us not become desirous of vainglory._ --Galatians v. 26. These words, my dear brethren, are from the Epistle of the Mass of this Sunday. I feel quite sure that the advice which St. Paul gives us in them is a very sensible one, and one which we all need to take very much to heart. What is this vainglory of which he speaks? It is the vain and false glory which comes from the admiration of others. It is what, in the more important matters of life, the world calls glory, and does not call vain. It is what many great geniuses have spent their lives to acquire, and have even been admired for doing so. But it is what in smaller matters the world calls it vanity to seek; and the world generally laughs, at least in its sleeve, at those who do so. The girl whose great desire it is to have her hat acknowledged to be the prettiest one in church is called vain and made fun of, perhaps, even by her rivals, who wish in their hearts that they had a nicer one, if it was only to take the conceit out of her; but the man whose ambition it is to have the brain that his hat covers acknowledged to be the smartest one in the country is not laughed at, but very much respected, if the brain be really a fine one. And yet the desire is really all the same thing in both of them. {410} Now, my brethren, we are all more or less vain or desirous of this vainglory; rather more, in fact, than less. It will not do for us to laugh very hard at each other for it, for we are all in the same boat. It is a passion which is almost universal. Some people who are quite proud may fancy that they do not care a straw for what others think of them; but I fancy that they do, though perhaps the reason may be that the praise of others will help them to admire themselves. So you see that I was right in saying that St. Paul's advice was one which we all need to take very much to heart--all of us, not only girls with the new styles of hats, but young men at college or in business, eminent merchants and professional men, including those whom God has called to serve him at the altar. We have all got to look out for this snare of vainglory. And how? By despising it? Yes, in a certain way, but not in the way of pride. By resolving to value nothing according to the opinion that men have of it, but according to that which Almighty God has of it. He values nothing much but what is, like himself, eternal. He does not care so very much more for your cleverness than for your beauty. He could spoil either one of them in an instant, if he chose. But what he does care for, and what he himself cannot spoil, though of course he could not wish to, are the merits which he has given you this life to acquire and to bring before the throne of his judgment, to be transformed into your immortal crown. Those are the only things which are worth your caring for, because they are the only things which he cares for. And they are what all can have, however low in worldly station they may be. {411} Yes, my dear Christians, that is the glory for us to seek--the glory of God; that which comes from him. Try to have him think well of you. It is not vain to wish to be praised and admired, only let him be the one whom you want to have praise and admire you. He will do it, if you want him to and will give him a chance. He, your Creator, desires to honor and glorify you for ever. When you think of this can you care for other praise? ------------------- {412} _Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Ephesians iii._ 13-31. Brethren: I beseech you not to be disheartened at my tribulations for you, which is your glory. For this cause I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom all paternity in heaven and earth is named, that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with power by his Spirit unto the inward man. That Christ may dwell by faith in your hearts: that being rooted and founded in charity, you may be able to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth, and length, and height, and depth. To know also the charity of Christ, which surpasseth knowledge, that you may be filled unto all the fulness of God. Now to him who is able to do all things more abundantly than we ask or understand, according to the power which worketh in us: to him be glory in the church, and in Christ Jesus, throughout all generations, world without end. Amen. Gospel. _St. Luke xiv._ 1-11. At that time: When Jesus went into the house of a certain prince of the Pharisees, on the Sabbath day, to eat bread, and they were watching him. And behold, there was a certain man before him that had the dropsy. And Jesus answering, spoke to the lawyers and Pharisees, saying: Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath day? But they held their peace. But he, taking him, healed him, and sent him away. And answering them, he said: Which of you whose ass or his ox shall fall into a pit, and will not immediately draw him out on the Sabbath day? And they could not answer him to these things. {413} And he spoke a parable also to them that were invited, marking how they chose the first seats at the table, saying to them: When thou art invited to a wedding, sit not down in the highest place, lest perhaps one more honorable than thou be invited by him: and he who invited thee and him, come and say to thee: Give place to this man; and then thou begin with blushing to take the lowest place. But when thou art invited, go, sit down in the lowest place: that when he who invited thee cometh, he may say to thee: Friend, go up higher. Then shalt thou have glory before them that sit at table with thee. Because every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled: and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted. ------------------- Sermon CXXIV. _They were watching him._ --St. Luke xiv. 1. How condescending and kind, brethren, was the spirit of our Lord when he entered into the house of the Pharisee to eat bread; how base and ungracious, on the other hand, the conduct of the latter and his friends, who, as the Gospel says, "were watching him"! They watched him that they might catch him breaking the laws of the Sabbath. They envied him because his reputation was great with the people. They watched him because "he had a daily beauty in his life which made theirs ugly," and tried to find something to carp at, something to find fault with. He was their guest; they were bound to treat him with respect and kindness; yet they violated the rules of hospitality, deceitfully making the banquet a cover for their plan to catch him. {414} He was their Saviour and the benefactor of their people; one who, as they well knew, had healed the sick, given speech to the dumb, and made the blind to see. The knowledge of his goodness and power only moved them to envy. He was greater than they, and so they watched him that they might find something in his conduct which would lessen his reputation and good name. Are there not found some in our own day who imitate the conduct of the Pharisee and his friends? Jesus is often near you; you often meet him in your every-day life, often have him in your house in the person of one of his pious servants--I mean any one of your neighbors whose life is better than your own. There are many who watch such an one with the spirit of envy and criticism, and they try to find out worldly motives for their neighbor's piety. Such persons say, as Satan did of old, "Does Job serve God for naught?" Often they exclaim, "I see my neighbor frequently at Communion, but she only goes for show; I should like to see some change in her life"; or "What does she run to church so much for? It would be a great deal better for her if she stayed at home and minded her family." Again, many watch the prosperity of their neighbor with an envious eye; they hate to see their neighbor in a better house than their own, don't like him to have more money than themselves, and so forth. All this is watching Jesus as the Pharisee did. There are many, too, whose consciences must accuse them of watching Jesus in the persons of his priests, who envy the priest's position, envy his authority over them, and such like. {415} These people try to pick a hole in the priest's ways, to pass their opinion on his manner, his judgments, his actions. They watch him in his words, at table in their own houses, to see if perchance they can find something to make a dish of scandal out of. Yes, brethren, there are many such watchers as these, and Pharisees are they all. Envy, which prompts this horrible spirit of unchristian criticism, is one of the worst offences against the great and fundamental virtue of charity. Envy has inspired the hearts of men with the most wicked crimes. Envy delivered the innocent Lamb of God to a cruel death. Envy, therefore, is a grievous sin. Envy and the spirit of criticism spring from pride. Envy makes us watch others, and such watching is from pride. Watch yourselves rather than your neighbor and your superiors. "Brethren," says St. Paul, "if a man be overtaken in any fault, you, who are spiritual, instruct such an one, in the spirit of meekness, considering thyself lest thou also be tempted." Walk and pray lest ye enter into temptation. Watch Jesus and his servants, if you will, but do so to be edified, do so to learn something good. Watch Jesus, who is meek and humble of heart, that you may learn the lesson which he tried to teach the proud and envious Pharisees: "Every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ---------------------- {416} Sermon CXXV. _Every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled._ --St. Luke xiv. 11. That was an unlucky guest who sat down in the first place and was sent to take the lowest. No wonder he was covered with shame; served him right. To be humbled in the very act of exalting ourselves is indeed hard punishment, sharp and painful as a pang in a tenderly sore spot. It is like being caught in a theft or a lie. For, truly, pride is theft. We have no right to be proud, because we own as our property nothing that we may be proud of. All that we have that is good is God's; to pride ourselves on that is to rob God of his due, and appropriate what does not belong to us. And pride is a lie, a deceit; "for if thou hast received," says St. Paul, "why dost thou glory as if thou hadst not received?" A vain boast is simply lying. To lie and to steal are very mean things to do. To be caught lying and stealing makes us feel very mean in the eyes of others; and that is what comes to us when our pride is evident and is found out by our fellow-men, and then we are humbled as was the poor guest spoken of in the Gospel. Truth is the badge of honor among men. Humility is truth, because humility is to know our place and keep it; in this is truthfulness and comfort also. We feel at ease when we are where we ought to be. A bone dislocated is a torture; anything out of place is an offence and a nuisance, whether it be a misshapen limb or a stove-pipe that doesn't fit and smokes. You remember in the fable the fate of the foolish frog who wanted to be as big as the ox--he blew until he burst and collapsed. {417} Now, is there not a great deal of that kind of work among us--I mean getting too big, reaching above us, exalting ourselves--in a word, not knowing our place? Let me instance: The poor will pass for rich: fine dress and flashy jewels in broad daylight on the street; at home, dirt, wretchedness, almost starvation. The ignorant will know more than they have learned, and so stretch themselves all out of shape, and wed in the most repulsive manner pretentious speech to gross ignorance. Not only is one man as good as another, but a great deal better. The layman will teach theology and canon law to the priest. The ward politician, who buys votes at five cents a glass, and trades them off for street contracts or other valuable consideration, can run the world, the Holy See not excepted. Our American boy of twelve thinks the old folks not a circumstance to him, and shows it in his behavior. The school girl who can do a sum and thump an "easy exercise" on the piano scorns domestic work, leaves the kitchen to "ma," and cultivates the fine arts in the parlor. Our talk, our press even, is fall of unreality, inflated bombast and buncombe. We have no degrees of comparison but the superlative. God help us for a vain, boastful set! What is it all but untruthfulness, want of humility, strutting up to the head of the table in one way or another? Our conversations are full of ourselves; we threaten horrors or we promise wonders; and it all issues, like the mountain in travail, in ridiculous failures. Let us know our place, or humiliation will teach it us. {418} Adam and Eve were well off, and might have been till this day had they known their place and been satisfied; but they wanted to go up, to become as God--and they came down to all the miseries of fallen nature. Simon the Magician started, with the help of the devil, to ascend into heaven like our Saviour; but God brought him down before he got very far. "He that exalteth himself shall be humbled." Moreover, pride finds its punishment in the very ridiculousness of itself. The fool imagines himself to be other than he is; the insane insists on taking to himself a character which is not his. Well, brethren, the mock-king and queen of the asylum are not more foolish and insane, because not more untruthful, than the proud man. The lesson, then, is this: Keep to the place God has given you, don't put yourself forward in conversation, acknowledge your nothingness before your Creator, be true and real to your fellow-men; thus you will escape shameful humiliation and deserve to be exalted in the esteem of others and in the kingdom of heaven. ----------------- {419} _Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Ephesians iv._ 1-6. Brethren: As a prisoner in the Lord, I beseech you that you walk worthy of the vocation in which you are called, with all humility and mildness, with patience, supporting one another in charity, careful to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. One body and one Spirit: as you are called in one hope of your vocation. One Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in us all, who is blessed for ever and ever. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxii._ 35-46. At that time: the Pharisees came nigh to Jesus: and one of them, a doctor of the law, asked him, tempting him: Master, which is the great commandment in the law! Jesus said to him: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. And the second is like to this: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments dependeth the whole law and the prophets. And the Pharisees being gathered together, Jesus asked them saying: What think you of Christ? Whose son is he? They say to him: David's. He saith to them: How then doth David in spirit call him Lord, saying: "The Lord said to my Lord: Sit on my right hand, until I make thy enemies thy footstool"? If David then call him Lord, how is he his son? And no man was able to answer him a word: neither durst any man from that day forth ask him any more questions. {420} Sermon CXXVI. _Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself._ --St. Matthew xxii. 39. Nothing can be plainer than the fact that we must love God, and it is equally plain that we must love our neighbor. Our Lord declares that on these two precepts depend the whole law and the prophets. Yet we see people who make very little of them both. The precept to love our neighbor is perhaps the least regarded. Let us, therefore, reflect upon this commandment to-day. In the first place, there is no doubt about the obligation. Jesus says plainly, and with authority: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor"; and again, in another place, he says: "A new _commandment_ I give unto you, that you love one another. By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." So, then, if you want to keep the commandment of Jesus Christ, if you want to be known as his disciples, you _must_ love your neighbors. The obligation is clear and plain. But our Lord not only gives a _commandment_, but also explains the _method_ of fulfilling it. He not only says, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor," but also adds "as thyself." He does not say as much as thyself, because, of course, the orders of nature and charity both require that we should love ourselves better than our neighbor. We must save our own soul first. We must not peril our own salvation in order to benefit our neighbor. Our Lord says "as thyself"--that is, in the _same manner_, not in the _same degree_. We must love our neighbor for his own sake, just as we love ourselves for our own sake. {421} If we only love our neighbor on account of the use he can be to us, the pleasure he can give us, or the positions he can obtain for us, then that is really no love at all. That is nothing more or less than loving ourselves. We must love him as Jesus Christ has loved us--with a supernatural love, with a love which is founded on a desire to save our neighbor's soul. And now in every-day life how must we treat our neighbor in order to fulfil the command of Jesus Christ, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself"? First, do your neighbor no wrong, either by thought, word, or deed. You don't like any one to think evil of you. Very well, don't think evil of your neighbor. You don't like any one to speak ill of yourself; you don't like to be insulted; can't bear to be abused. Ah! then be careful that you don't visit such things upon your neighbor. You don't like to be defrauded or cheated; you don't like to have your property or your reputation injured, or to be wronged in any way. Why? Because you love yourself. Very well, then, "love thy neighbor _as_ thyself," and don't do to him what you are unwilling should be done to you. Again, not only refrain from doing your neighbor wrong, but wish him well and do him good. Try to have his name on your lips when you are at prayer. Say: "O God! prosper my neighbor, even as thou hast prospered me." Endeavor to show your fellow-Christian that you are interested in his well-being, and heartily glad when he succeeds in life. Have that spirit in your heart which makes you as glad to hear that your neighbor has gained five hundred dollars as if you had made the sum yourself. {422} Then, when you can do your friend a good turn, do it with a hearty good-will; give him a helping hand; try to encourage him in his business. Don't say, "Every man for himself and God for us all, and the devil take the hindermost"; but say, "Do unto others as you would they should do unto you." And, lastly, you want God to forgive your sins? You want men to condone your offences and look over your shortcomings and defects? Then love your neighbor as yourself. If he has injured you, pardon him; if he has done wrong, overlook it; if he has got defects, bear with them. "All things," says one of the saints, "are easy to him who loves." So, then, love God, love your neighbor, and all things will be easy to _you_. This life will pass away all the more pleasantly, and the life to come will be all the more bright and its reward all the more precious, if you will only remember and act upon this great commandment: "Thou shalt _love_ thy neighbor _as thyself_." Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ---------------------- Sermon CXXVII. _With patience, supporting one another in charity._ --_Ephesians iv._ 2. We hear a great deal nowadays, my dear brethren, about toleration. It is a thing which the nineteenth century takes a special pride in. It seems to imagine that it is really a great deal more charitable and patient than any previous one, and that, in fact, the apostles themselves might learn a lesson of Christian virtue from it, if they could come back to the earth. {423} I wish that such were actually the case; but if we examine this pretended toleration and charity we shall have to confess that it is simply a sham, having nothing whatever in it to make it deserve the name it takes. You would not say of any man that he was of a tolerant and patient disposition because he was quite willing that some stranger should be interfered with, provided he himself was let alone. Well, that is precisely the tolerance of the nineteenth century. The world is now tolerant about all things in which the rights of Almighty God are concerned, because it has made him a stranger to itself; but it resents interference with itself, and insists on being let alone in its own enjoyments as much as, or more than, ever. The world, then, has not yet learned to be tolerant, patient, or charitable in any true sense of those words, in spite of all its boasting; and it is much to be feared that it never will. After all, it is not much wonder that it has not; for this is a very difficult lesson, and one which one must have the help of God to learn. True tolerance or patience, bearing with others when they interfere, not with somebody else, but with ourselves, is a fruit of grace rather than of nature. It cannot be expected from those who have rejected the grace of God as a needless encumbrance in the journey of life. If they have the appearance of it, it is only an outside finish of what is called politeness, put on merely to save trouble and make things more comfortable on the whole. But it is not for Christians who are trying to live by the light of grace, not of nature; who believe in God and are trying to keep his commandments; who wish to imitate Christ, and are receiving the sacraments which should enable them to do so, to follow the example of such. {424} We ought to try to be really tolerant with our brethren, whatever their faults or defects may be or however much they may put us out or interfere with our comfort consciously or unconsciously, "with patience, supporting one another in charity," as St. Paul says in the Epistle of to-day. And yet must we not confess that too often we do not even make an attempt to practise this virtue? Your neighbor offends you in some trifling way, perhaps without really meaning to do so or knowing that he does; it may be even by some peculiarity which is not really his fault at all. Do you put up with it; do you say: "Oh! that is not much; I must take people as I find them and as God made them, not as I would like to have them; we all have plenty of defects, and perhaps I myself am the worst of all"? Do you not rather say: "Oh! there is no getting along with such a person; I will keep out of his way; I cannot bear the sight of him; it will be better for us to avoid speaking," and the like? This intolerance, which is so common, is simply avoiding a cross which we ought to carry, not only for the love of God, like all others, but for the love of our neighbor also; and especially when it comes from those who are our brethren not only by a common humanity but by a common faith, who have with us, as St. Paul goes on to remind us, "one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in us all." Try, then, to bear this cross cheerfully, and show, by so doing, that you really are aiming to fulfil the great commandments given in to-day's Gospel, by loving God, from whom it comes, with your whole heart and soul and mind, and your neighbor, by whom it comes, as yourself. ------------------ {425} _Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 1 _ Corinthians i._ 4-8. Brethren: I give thanks to my God always for you; for the grace of God that is given you in Christ Jesus, that in all things you are made rich in him, in every word, and in all knowledge: as the testimony of Christ was confirmed in you: so that nothing is wanting to you in any grace, waiting for the manifestation of our Lord Jesus Christ, who also will confirm you unto the end without crime, in the day of the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Gospel. _St. Matthew ix._ 1-8. At that time: Jesus entering into a boat, passed over the water and came into his own city. And behold they brought to him a man sick of the palsy lying on a bed. And Jesus, seeing their faith, said to the man sick of the palsy: Son, be of good heart, thy sins are forgiven thee. And behold some of the Scribes said within themselves: This man blasphemeth. And Jesus seeing their thoughts, said: Why do you think evil in your hearts? Which is easier, to say, Thy sins are forgiven thee; or to say, Rise up and walk? But that you may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins (then saith he to the man sick of the palsy), Rise up: take thy bed and go into thy house. And he rose up, and went into his house. And the multitude seeing it, feared, and glorified God who had given such power to men. -------------------- {426} Sermon CXXVIII. _Why do you think evil in your hearts?_ --St. Matthew ix. 4. All those, dear brethren, who are trying to lead a holy life have a great horror of _external_ sins. They will not lie, steal, murder, or be guilty of adultery or intemperance. Still, I am afraid a great many of us are awfully careless about _internal_ sins. We forget that not only the sins which we openly commit, but those also which we secretly assent to in our own minds, are offences against God. You can see this in to-day's Gospel. When our Lord said to the sick man, "Thy sins are forgiven thee," the Scribes directly said "_within themselves_, He blasphemeth"; and although they did not shape this sentence in words, it was accounted to them for sin, as we can see from the reply of Jesus Christ contained in the text. You see, then, brethren, if you want to keep your conscience clear, you must not only avoid external but even internal sins. Indeed, I think the sins which we commit internally are even more deadly than the external ones. First, because they always precede the open offence; as our Lord says in another place, "From the heart come forth evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false testimonies, blasphemies." Now, you will see at once that "evil thoughts" come first on the list, by which I think our Lord wishes to intimate that they are the root of all the others. Again, evil thoughts, whether they are against charity, or against chastity, or against faith--whether they are thoughts of pride, of hatred, or envy, or avaricious thoughts--insomuch as they are concealed from the sight of others, do not cause the same shame to the guilty person as an overt act would. Thus, being the more easily committed, they are the more frequent and the more deadly. {427} Lastly, dear friends, evil thoughts pollute the mind and heart, and in proportion as they and their darkness enter, God and his brightness leave. To indulge in evil thoughts is to defile the stream at its fountain-head and poison all the river below. Be on your guard, then, dear brethren, against this insidious enemy. Perhaps evil thoughts against faith may assail you. Cast them out before they have time to enter fully into the mind. Many, better perhaps and holier than you, have in times past become heretics, apostates, enemies of God's church because they did not trample at once upon these beginnings of evil. You may be assaulted by imaginations against holy purity. Stifle them, I beseech you, at once, or they will grow in strength and gain in frequency till they have buried the grace of God, peace of mind, and strength of intellect in one common and unhallowed grave. You have all doubtless heard of the avalanche which happens in regions where the mountains which rise from the great valley and tower above the nestling valleys are covered with perpetual snow. Perhaps it is a slight puff of air, or the light tread of the mountain goat, or it maybe nothing but the brushing of a bird's wing that detaches the ball of snow; but be that as it may, the particle, once started, rushes down the mountain-side, gathering strength as it hurries on, leaping from one precipice to another, till finally, having swept everything before it, the enormous heap falls upon the peaceful village and buries everything in "a chaos of indistinguishable death." {428} Yet in the beginning that avalanche was but a ball of snow. So it is with evil thoughts against faith, chastity, charity, humility, and all the other virtues. Once let them start and you can never tell in what awful ruin they will end. Nip evil thoughts, then, in the bud; and as chief remedies I would say: 1. Fill your mind with good thoughts. A vessel cannot be full of two liquids at the same time. Think of heaven; think of God, of Jesus, of Mary and her pure spouse, St. Joseph. 2. Remember the eye that sees the secrets of all hearts, and Him who saw the thoughts of the Scribes in the Gospel of to-day. 3. Remember that you can commit a mortal sin by thought as well as by deed. Lastly, picture to yourself One ever standing by your side, with wounded hands and pierced heart, "whose name is faithful and true, whose eyes are as a flame of fire, and on his head many diadems; who is clothed with a garment of blood," and who cries to you night and day, "Why do ye think evil in your hearts?" Rev. Algernon A. Brown. --------------- Sermon CXXIX. _And Jesus seeing their faith, said to the man sick of the palsy: Son, be of good heart, thy sins are forgiven thee._ --St. Matthew ix. 2. These words of our Lord must have been something of a surprise to the paralytic and his friends; welcome they must have been, but still unexpected, and to some extent disappointing. For the sick man had not been brought to Christ to have his sins forgiven; and that favor had not been asked, at least no request had been made for it in words. {429} The paralytic himself must have wished it, it is true, for God never forgives our sins unless we desire forgiveness; but he did not say so, and his mind, like those of his bearers, was probably more occupied with his bodily than with his spiritual cure. It will be worth our while to see why our Saviour chose to give them this surprise; why he did not cure the sick man first and forgive him afterwards. That might seem to be the more natural way: to restore him first to bodily health, and then to move him by gratitude to repentance and conversion. Still, when we come to consider it I think we shall hit upon two very good reasons for his course, and that without very much reflection. The first reason, then, for our Lord doing as he did, was to show us that the health of the soul is more important in his sight than that of the body, and hence requires our first attention. The second follows from the first: it was to remind us that, such being the case, we cannot reasonably expect bodily health or any other temporal blessing if we neglect to reconcile ourselves to God. Now, these are two things that all of us, my dear brethren, must certainly know very well, otherwise they would not occur to our minds so readily. But in spite of this we too often fail to give our knowledge a practical application. How few there are, strange to say, who really act as if the health of their souls were of more importance than that of their bodies! Take, for instance, in proof of this, a fact which we have often seen recorded lately in the daily papers. The yellow fever, you will hear, has appeared in some Southern town, and what has been the result? {430} All the inhabitants, who could leave the place immediately did so, perhaps taking the very next train, and, it may be, leaving their property in the hands of strangers. Well, we may think this a little cowardly and foolish, considering that, after all, there would not have been, perhaps, more than one chance in ten even of sickness, if they had stayed; but still we cannot blame them, for we feel that we should very likely have done the same ourselves. But how many would act in this way in the presence of a spiritual danger, though it were much more certain and imminent than that of the body in this terrible Southern plague? Ask yourselves the question, you who remain contentedly in unnecessary occasions of sin, with much more than one chance in ten, nay, with an absolute certainty, that your soul will be not only sick but dead as long as you remain there; ask yourselves if you value the health of your soul more than that of the body; see if you practise what you must believe if you are a Christian--that it is better to die even to-day in a state of grace than live for a moment in that of sin. Well, whether you act on this belief or not. Almighty God does. He shows you that, as I have said, in this Gospel of to-day. And it follows that you cannot please him or be in his grace as long as you do not do for your soul what you would do for your body; that is, as long as you do not remove it from needless dangers. That is the first practical lesson to be learned from our Lord's action in the cure of the paralytic. {431} And the second is that, if we hope to obtain from God temporal favors out of the natural order of his providence, we must first provide for our souls, which come first in his estimation. And yet many people seem to expect him to reverse the order which he has established. They promise conversion if they obtain the temporal blessing which they want. They may succeed through his abundant mercy; but the better and the surer course would be to think of the soul first and the body afterward. "Seek first," and he says, "the kingdom of God and his justice, and all things shall be added unto you." And remember that this must be the real disposition of your souls, if you would be saved. The catechism tells you that the only contrition which will obtain forgiveness, even in the sacrament of Penance, must be what is called "sovereign"; that is, "we should be more grieved for having offended God than for all the other evils that could happen to us." Think well of this, and you will be able to add a good deal to what I have had time to say. ------------------- {432} _Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Ephesians iv._ 23-28. Brethren: Be ye renewed in the spirit of your mind: and put on the new man, who, according to God, is created in justice, and holiness of truth. Wherefore, putting away lying, speak ye the truth every man with his neighbor: for we are members one of another. Be angry, and sin not. Let not the sun go down upon your anger: Give not place to the devil. Let him that stole, steal now no more, but rather let him labor, working with his hands that which is good, that he may have to give to him who is in need. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxii._ 2-14. At that time: Jesus spoke to the chief priests and Pharisees in parables, saying: The kingdom of heaven is like to a man being a king, who made a marriage for his son. And he sent his servants to call them that were invited to the marriage: and they would not come. Again he sent other servants, saying: Tell them that were invited: Behold, I have prepared my dinner; my beeves and fatlings are killed, and all things are ready: come ye to the wedding. But they neglected, and went their ways, one to his farm, and another to his merchandise. And the rest laid hands on his servants, and, having treated them contumeliously, put them to death. But when the king heard of it he was angry, and, sending his armies, he destroyed those murderers and burnt their city. Then he saith to his servants: The wedding indeed is ready: but they that were invited were not worthy. Go ye therefore into the highways, and as many as you shall find, invite to the wedding. And his servants going out into the highways, gathered together all that they found, both bad and good: and the wedding was filled with guests. {433} And the king went in to see the guests, and he saw there a man who had not on a wedding garment. And he saith to him: Friend, how camest thou in hither not having a wedding garment? But he was silent. Then the king said to the waiters: Having bound his hands and feet, cast him into the exterior darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. For many are called, but few are chosen. ---------------------------- Sermon CXXX. _Let him that stole, steal now no more._ --Ephesians iv. 28. These words, dear friends, are taken from the Epistle appointed to be read to-day, and contain a most useful lesson. Now, I know the words "steal, stealing, thief, etc.," have a very ugly sound. People have a horror of them. The worst insult you can give to any one is to say, "You are a thief." Still, in spite of this feeling, we know that sins against justice are very often committed. Public men steal from public moneys. Employees rob their employers, children steal from their parents, servants from their masters, trustees from those whose affairs they have under control, and so on. From the time that Judas put his hand into the bag and filched from the scanty funds of his Master and his brethren, down to this present day, there have been Catholics who have so far forgotten themselves and "the vocation to which they are called" as to steal. Do you doubt this? Take up the first daily paper that comes to hand, and you will have evidence in black and white. {434} Now, there are three ways in which we can commit the sin of stealing: first, by taking that which does not belong to us; secondly, by unjustly retaining what does not belong to us; and, thirdly, by injuring what is not our own. First, then, we must not take what is not our own. Now, this you all know so well that I need only say a few words about it. Brethren, the man, woman, or child who takes money, articles, clothing, or what not from another, without their consent and knowledge, is a thief! When such persons creep to the till, the box, the desk of their neighbors, with stealthy tread and bated breath, to take what does not belong to them, God sees them, God's angel sees them; and, could they but hear it, they would be aware of a hundred voices crying aloud, "Thou shalt not steal." You are a thief! You are a thief! If you steal you must restore. Having stolen, you will find it very difficult to restore even when you have the money. If you do not restore (being able) you will go to that "outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth." Oh! then, "he that stole, let him now steal no more." Again, we must not retain what is not our own, for this also is a species of stealing. First under this head comes paying our just debts. "Brethren, owe no man anything," says St. Paul. Now, my friends, if you contract debts, and then when the time comes you do not pay them, but use the money for other purposes, you are unjustly retaining what is not your own, and thereby commit a sin against justice. There are some people who "want" (as the saying is) "to have their cake and eat it." {435} They run in debt, they enjoy the things obtained on credit, and then when the time comes to pay they want the money also. Brethren, the motto of every Catholic ought to be, "Pay your way." When we leave our debts long without liquidation we not only destroy our credit, but we practically steal from our neighbor. Then we must be careful also to pay our debts to God by supporting our pastors and our churches. It is a solemn command of God that we should give to the support of church and priest. It is our duty. It is a debt _owing_ to God. If you do not give of your means to this holy purpose you rob God--you steal from the Almighty by retaining what belongs _by right_ to church and pastor. Ah! then, "he that stole, let him now steal no more." Lastly, we can sin against justice by injuring property or goods which belong to our neighbor. Now, my friends, if we hire a house or lands, or if we take some official charge of our fellow-Christian's goods, we ought to be as careful of these things as if they were our own. If we, through our carelessness, our neglect, allow another's property to be damaged, lost, lessened in any way in value, we steal from him just that much. Be careful, then, of these sins against justice. Do not rob your fellow-men. Do not retain what is their due; do not injure their goods or property. Remember the great God who sees you. He is not only perfect charity; he is also perfect justice, and with his justice will he one day judge. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ---------------------------- {436} Sermon CXXXI. _And he sent his servants, to call them that were invited to the marriage: and they would not come._ --St. Matthew xxii. 3. We cannot for a moment hesitate, my dear brethren, as to who is represented, in this parable of our Lord, by the king who made a marriage for his son. It is God the Father; and it is his Divine Son for whom he has made the marriage. And that marriage is the union of our human nature with his divinity; it is what we call the Incarnation. And those who were first invited to this marriage, to partake of its benefits, are the Jews, who were first called to the church, to whom alone our Lord himself preached, and who were the first objects of the labors of his apostles; but who would not answer the invitation, even persecuting and putting to death those who gave it, and thus causing it to be given to others--that is, to ourselves--the city of Jerusalem being at the same time destroyed, together with the national existence of the Jewish people, as a punishment for their rejection of the Gospel invitation. We Gentiles have accepted what they, his chosen people, refused. We have come by faith and holy baptism to this marriage of the King's Son, for we are within the fold of his Holy Catholic Church. But having done so, we are now all invited to sit down at the marriage feast. It does not satisfy his love for us that we should simply be within the four walls of his house; he wishes that we should also partake of the good things which he has prepared in it for the refreshment of our soul--that is to say, the special graces which come to us only by means of the church, and which are not found outside: particularly the sacraments, and, most of all, the great and wonderful Sacrament of the Altar, in which he has given us his Precious Body and Blood for the food of our souls. {437} This, then, is pre-eminently the marriage feast of which he has invited us to partake, now that we are within his house. It is the Holy Communion. One would think we would be only too glad to do so. You would not expect to find wedding guests insulting their host by refusing to taste of the refreshment prepared for them. But how is it in fact? As he has had to send all over the world by his messengers, the apostles and their successors, through its highways and byways, to find people, not rich and great, as he might expect, but poor, humble, and despised, to fill up his house, so he has to send round among those guests whom he has secured, to beg them to eat at his table. He has been obliged not only to ask them but to entreat them, and even to command them, under penalty of being turned out of his doors by excommunication, if they refuse. And in spite of all this, there are so many that do refuse that he does not carry out this threat, lest even his house should be deserted. Is not this a shame? Is it not too bad that we, his miserable and unworthy guests, who have no right to be in his church at all, should have to be compelled to receive the food which he has prepared for us in it? More especially when we remember what that food is; that it is himself, his own Body and Blood; for such is his love that nothing else seemed to him good enough for us. {438} Here it is, this royal banquet, waiting for us all. Every day we are allowed to receive it. And yet how few there are who do so! If any one should go to Holy Communion once a month he is regarded rather as presumptuous than obedient. In spite of our Lord's repeated request, his people do not seem to believe that it is his will that not only a few but all of them should frequently come to receive him in this sacrament of his love. Of course, if you are to do his will in this matter, you must in others too. This feast is not for those who continually and obstinately break his laws. But how often you can approach it is a question for those to whom it has been entrusted to decide. Let the responsibility rest on your confessor, not on yourself. Do not let it be said that you, who are invited, will not come. Let not our Lord have to reproach you with ingratitude. Let not his table be deserted through your fault. The communion-rail is the place for all, not for a few. Come, then, often to it, if not for your own sakes, at least for the sake of Him who so longs to see you there and who has done so much for you. ------------------- {439} _Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost_. Epistle. _Ephesians v._ 15-31. See, brethren, how you walk circumspectly: not as unwise, but as wise: redeeming the time, for the days are evil. Wherefore become not unwise, but understanding what is the will of God. And be not drunk with wine, wherein is luxury, but be ye filled with the Holy Spirit. Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns, and spiritual canticles, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord: giving thanks always for all things, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to God and the Father: being subject one to another in the fear of Christ. Gospel. _St. John iv._ 46-53. At that time: There was a certain ruler whose son was sick at Capharnaum. He having heard that Jesus was come from Judea into Galilee, went to him, and prayed him to come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death. Then Jesus said to him: Unless you see signs and wonders, you believe not. The ruler saith to him: Sir, come down before that my son die. Jesus saith to him: Go thy way, thy son liveth. The man believed the word which Jesus said to him, and went his way. And as he was going down, his servants met him: and they brought word, saying that his son lived. He asked therefore of them the hour wherein he grew better. And they said to him: Yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him. The father therefore knew that it was at the same hour that Jesus said to him, Thy son liveth; and himself believed, and his whole house. --------------------------- {440} Sermon CXXXII. _Sir, come down before that my son die._ --St. John iv. 49. There are many useful lessons to be learnt from the ruler in to-day's Gospel. We can admire his confidence in Jesus Christ, his perseverance in prayer, his ready and speedy conversion to the faith. There is, however, another lesson to be learnt from him which is contained in the above words: "Lord, come down before that my son die." Now, disease, sickness, fever, etc., is, as you know, dear friends, the symbol of sin, while death is the symbol of mortal sin and eternal perdition. Now, you will notice that the ruler did not wait till his son was dead before coming to Christ: he came when his child was at the point of death, or when (according to the exact meaning of the Latin text) "he began to die." The ruler, then, is a model for parents. He teaches you what care you ought to take of your children's souls. Many of your children, dear brethren, are sick. They are sinful, disobedient, careless, and so forth. Now, do you correct them _in the beginning?_ Ah! I know a great many of you do not. You let them go on till the fever of sin rises higher and higher and burns fiercer and fiercer. You let them go on till they die and are buried in habits of mortal sin, and not till then do you call upon God and his church. Brethren, of all things you should watch your children when they are young. A husbandman does not try to force the well-grown wood to grow as he wishes; he trains the young and tender shoots. How often we see in the streets of our city a tribe of swaggering boys and wanton, frivolous girls, who have upon their faces the very mark of premature age and sinful precocity! {441} We see young boys and girls at beer-gardens, at variety theatres, in billiard-saloons; and, alas! if they are there, there is every reason to fear that the grace of God does not adorn their souls. These poor children are spiritually dead. Ah! but there must have been a time when they "began to die." There must have been a moment when they first took to these scandalous habits. Then why did you not see that they went to confession, to Mass, to Holy Communion? Why did you not insist upon their morning and evening prayers being said? Why did you not keep them at home after dark? Brethren, soon we shall come to this pass: that none will be considered a child after five years of age. Our children of this age and country are "at the point of death." They are growing up with ideas of false independence, false liberality, and false religious principles. You parents, then, must call upon Christ. Jesus is represented on earth by his church and his priests. You must go, then, to church and priest, if you want your children to be saved before they die the death of sin. You must cut them off from the beginning of evil as soon as you see the least sign of the fever of sin upon them. Go yourself to Jesus Christ. Kneel down and pray for them. Lift up your voices and cry: "Lord, come down before that my child shall die." Send them to the sacraments; send them to Sunday-school; send them to Vespers and Benediction. Above all, interest yourself in your children. Go to Jesus, as the ruler did. Pray for your children every time you go to Mass and Communion, and every night and morning. {442} Do not let them form evil companions and low associates. Insist upon their obeying the parental authority, and above all, teach them that boys and girls of fifteen or sixteen are not men and women. Lastly, let us all, priests and people, lift up our hands and cry to Jesus: "Lord, come down before that these children die; come down with thy lessons of obedience; come down in Holy Communion; come down with thy grace and with thy quickening Spirit." Then, if we do these things--if we attend to our solemn duties as parents and pastors--we may each expect to hear from our dear Master's lips: "Go thy way, thy son liveth." Rev. Algernon A. Brown. -------------------- Sermon CXXXIII. _Giving thanks always for all things._ --Ephesians v. 20. If we stop a moment, my dear brethren, to consider the meaning of these words, which we find in the Epistle of to-day, they will, I think, seem to us rather surprising; and if we did not believe in the inspiration of their author we should be inclined to say that he rather exaggerated the truth, and that we cannot be expected to take the lesson which he here teaches us quite literally. "Surely," we might say, "St. Paul must have meant that we should give thanks for all things which are really fit subjects for thanksgiving; that we should not neglect our duty of gratitude to God for his benefits. And when he tells us to give thanks for all things it was a little slip of his pen; we muse understand not all things, but all good things." {443} We might talk in this way, I say, if we did not know that St. Paul was inspired; but knowing that, we must drop the idea that there can be any mistake or exaggeration. It must really be that we ought to give thanks for all things that happen to us, without exception. If our plans succeed we must give thanks; but we must do the same if they fail. Whether our wishes are gratified or not, we must give thanks. If we have riches, good health, plenty of friends, or if, on the other hand, we are poor, sick, and without a friend in the world, we must thank God, in adversity the same as in prosperity. "Well," you may say, "it must be so, since we have the word of the Holy Ghost for it; but, for my part, I cannot see how it can be. I should be very willing to thank God for all these bad things, but I do not see what there is in them to thank him for. I acknowledge that I deserve punishment for my sins, and I will try to take it with as good a grace as I can; but as to giving thanks for it, that is a little too much for me. It seems to me that I should only be a hypocrite if I should pretend to do so." Some of you, I am pretty sure, feel like talking in this way, at least at times when trouble has come upon you. Let us see if we cannot find the reason that your faith is so much tried. It seems to me that it is because it seems to you that you are required to believe that evil is really good; and of course that is as hard to believe as that black is really white. You think that our Lord means evil to you; that he is acting with you as the authorities of the state might act. If any one breaks the laws he is shut up in prison or has to pay a fine. Well, that may do him good, but it is not meant for that. It is meant to do harm to him, that others may profit by his example and that the good order of society may be maintained. {444} So a criminal cannot personally thank the judge, if he sentences him to hard labor for five years. It would not be reasonable for him to do so, and the judge does not want him to do it, for he does not mean to give him a favor. So you think, when our Lord punishes you in any way, that he really means to do you harm, for some wise end in his providence, to be sure, but still really harm as far as you yourself are concerned. You regard it simply as the satisfaction of his justice on you, or perhaps for some good purpose in which you are not concerned; and so it is as hard for you personally to thank him for it as to say that black is white. But this is just where you are mistaken; for there is a great difference between the punishments of God and those of man. If our Lord sends you any misfortune or cross it is principally for your own good. He always has that in view; he is not like a human judge. He would not allow a hair of your head to be touched, were it not really for your good; for he loves you more dearly than your best friend in the world can possibly do. This, then, my dear brethren, is the right exercise for our faith: not to believe that evil is good, but to believe that God is good and does not mean evil to us, and that when he gives what seems to be evil it is really a blessing in disguise. Though it is plain that it must be so, instead of being contrary to reason, still it is an exercise of faith for all that; but an easy one, if we will only try it. {445} Try it, then, when you are tempted to murmur against God's providence, and you will be able to give thanks for all things, whether they seem to be bad or good; and you will see that after all it is only good things which you are told to thank him for, because all things which he sends you really are good. ---------------- {446} _Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Ephesians vi._ 10-17. Brethren: Be strengthened in the Lord, and in the might of his power. Put you on the armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the snares of the devil. For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood: but against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places. Wherefore take unto you the armor of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and to stand in all things perfect. Stand, therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of justice: and your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace: in all things taking the shield of faith, wherewith you may be able to extinguish all the fiery darts of the most wicked one. And take unto you the helmet of salvation; and the sword of the Spirit (which is the word of God). Gospel. _St. Matthew xviii._ 23-35. At that time: Jesus spoke to his disciples this parable: The kingdom of heaven is likened to a king, who would take an account of his servants. And when he had begun to take the account, one was brought to him that owed him ten thousand talents. And as he had not wherewith to pay it, his lord commanded that he should be sold, and his wife and children and all that he had, and payment to be made. But that servant, falling down, besought him, saying: Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. And the lord of that servant being moved with compassion, let him go, and forgave him the debt. {447} But when that servant was gone out, he found one of his fellow-servants that owed him a hundred pence; and laying hold of him, he throttled him, saying: Pay what thou owest. And his fellow-servant, falling down, besought him saying: Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. And he would not: but went and cast him into prison, till he should pay the debt. Now his fellow-servants, seeing what was done, were very much grieved, and they came and told their lord all that was done. Then his lord called him, and said to him: Thou wicked servant! I forgave thee all the debt, because thou besoughtest me: shouldst not thou then have had compassion also on thy fellow-servant, even as I had compassion on thee? And his lord being angry, delivered him to the torturers until he should pay all the debt. So also shall my heavenly Father do to you, if you forgive not every one his brother from your hearts. ------------------------ Sermon CXXXIV. _Our wrestling is not against flesh and blood: but against principalities and powers._ --Ephesians vi. 12. It is a most important truth, my brethren, and a very practical one for all of us, which is contained in these words of St. Paul; and it is the subject of the whole Epistle of this Sunday, from which this passage is taken. This truth is that we have a host of enemies to contend with in the battle which we must fight to win the kingdom of heaven, who are much more powerful than flesh and blood--that is, than any human foes; much more formidable than any others which attack us, from within or from without. {448} Who are these enemies? They are Satan and all his army of fallen angels. That these are what the apostle means by "principalities and powers" is plain from these very words, which are the names, as you know, of two of the nine angelic choirs. It is plain also, from what he says immediately before, that we should put on the armor of God, in order to be able to stand against the deceits of the devil. Who can doubt that these lost spirits are terrible enemies to our salvation? They desire nothing more earnestly than our eternal ruin, and labor most persistently to bring it about. They have a malicious hatred and envy for us, and spare no effort to induce us to sin, as that is the greatest evil which can happen to us. As there is joy before the angels of God upon one sinner who repents, so there is exultation among these fallen angels over every one who does not, and especially over every one who repents of his repentance and turns to sin again. And besides the will which they have to injure us, they have an immense power to do so. They are superior to us in the order of creation; they have much more intelligence, knowledge, and strength than we. If they were permitted they could easily make us all subject to them, and reign over us with a more cruel tyranny than the world has ever seen. "Well, father," you may say to me, "of course this must be true; but then they are not permitted to trample on us in this way. God holds them in check, so that they cannot do us the harm which they wish, and would otherwise be able to accomplish." I grant you this. They certainly are not allowed to do us all the harm they might do and would like to do; but they are allowed to do a great part of it--so much that, without the help of God on our side, they would, even as it is, destroy us, soul and body. {449} By our own strength we cannot possibly escape these terrible and merciless enemies, but only by the power of God. Without that we should be as helpless before them as a child among lions and tigers. If we would escape them it can only be, then, by calling upon God, and getting from him the strength and protection which he alone can give. This is what St. Paul tells us in this Epistle, "Put on the armor of God," he says; and again, "Take unto you the armor of God." If you do not you will fall. Our Lord has allowed the devils to have the power which they still have to injure us, that we may learn in our dire extremity to have recourse to him. And yet so far are we from realizing our danger, and seeking the only protection which can save us, that many Christians seem almost to doubt, like infidels, the very existence of the devil and his angels. There is nothing which Satan likes better than this, or which puts us more completely in his power. He does not care that we should know. Just now at least, who does us the harm, so long as the harm is done; and he knows that if we do not believe in him we shall not look out for him, and that if we do not look out for him we shall certainly fall into his snares. Rouse yourselves, then, my brethren, from this indifference to your greatest peril. Believe, with a real and practical belief, in the existence and the tremendous power of these enemies who are hunting down your souls. Know that you cannot resist them of your own strength, and act on that knowledge. Pray to God to protect you, to keep them from you, and you from them. Ask Our Blessed Lady, who is their terror, to drive them away, and your guardian angel to keep them from your side. Avoid the occasions of sin which they prepare for you. {450} Flee from them if you can; if not, resist them, and they will flee from you; but when you resist them, let it be in the name of Him who has conquered them, or they will conquer you. ----------------------- {451} _Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Philippians i._ 6-11. Brethren: We are confident of this very thing, that he, who hath begun a good work in you, will perfect it unto the day of Christ Jesus. As it is meet for me to think this for you all: because I have you in my heart; and that in my bonds, and in the defence, and confirmation of the gospel, you all are partakers of my joy. For God is my witness, how I long after you all in the bowels of Jesus Christ. And this I pray, that your charity may more and more abound in knowledge, and in all understanding: that you may approve the better things, that you may be sincere and without offence unto the day of Christ. Replenished with the fruit of justice through Jesus Christ, unto the glory and praise of God. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxii._ 15-21. At that time: The Pharisees going away, consulted among themselves how to ensnare Jesus in his speech. And they sent to him their disciples with the Herodians, saying: Master, we know that thou art a true speaker, and teachest the way of God in truth, neither carest thou for any man; for thou dost not regard the person of men. Tell us, therefore, what dost thou think. Is it lawful to give tribute to Cæsar, or not? But Jesus, knowing their wickedness, said: Why do you tempt me, ye hypocrites? Show me the coin of the tribute. And they offered him a penny. And Jesus saith to them: Whose image and inscription is this? They say unto him: Cæsar's. Then he saith to them: Render, therefore, to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, and to God the things that are God's. ----------------------- {452} Sermon CXXXV. _The Pharisees going away, consulted among themselves how to ensnare him in his speech._ --St. Matthew xxii. 15. It is needless to say, brethren, that they waited in vain. Our dear Lord never uttered anything but words of wisdom, justice, and piety. Is it so with us? We have enemies, strong and powerful, who have consulted among themselves how to ensnare us in our speech. Satan and his demons, evil companions, enemies of the holy faith--all these are watching to see if they cannot destroy us by means of our tongue. What, then, must we do to control _it_, of which St. James says: "The tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity; the tongue is placed among our members which defileth the whole body, being set on fire by hell"? We must watch it carefully, watch it jealously, watch it constantly. Some of the older writers have said that nature herself has taught us how careful we ought to be of our tongue. First, because we have only one. We have two eyes, two ears, two hands, two feet, but only one tongue. Again, the tongue is placed in the centre of the head, to show (as they say) that it ought to be under the absolute control of our reason; again, because nature places it behind two barriers, the lips and teeth, so as to keep it prisoner; and, lastly (says an old writer in his quaint way), because it is chained in the mouth. But there are other more solid reasons than these for watching our tongue. {453} There is nothing so poisonous as a bitter word, an uncharitable remark, an offensive observation. Words such as these have ruined families, have caused murders, have damned souls. How often has a bitter word rankled so deeply in our neighbor's mind and heart that he curses us, refuses to speak to us, and thus is driven by us into mortal sin! What then? The devil, who is on the watch, has ensnared us in our speech; he has got one more sin recorded against us. Had we watched our tongues he would not have caught us; we should not have sinned; our neighbor would not have been scandalized. How common it is for us to hear God's name taken in vain and spoken lightly; how frequently, alas! do we hear the sweet name of Jesus used for a curse; how often that holy name, "which is above every name," is bandied about as though it were as the name of the lowest of creatures! Blasphemer! reviler of the Holy One! Satan has ensnared you in your speech. You have cursed, blasphemed, _sinned!_ Had you watched your tongue you had not done so. And what horrible mutterings are these that we hear coming up from dark corners, from workshops, from factories, from lodging-houses, from streets? What whisperings are these, hot and burning with the fire of hell? They are words of impurity and bad conversations. They are accents that slay living souls, that pollute both the lips of the speaker and the ears of the listener; and, alas! the tongue, the unguarded, unwatched tongue, is the offender again. Ah! you are ensnared once more in your speech. Watch your tongue, then, lest you die the death of mortal sin. There is an every-day expression, brethren, which contains, I think, the best advice that can be given you; and that is, "Hold your tongue." Yes, _hold_ it under control of reason; chain it by prayer and the sacraments. {454} If it wants to run into bitter words and unkind speeches, hold it back. If it wants to blaspheme, hold it; hold it, or you are lost! If it wants to utter words contrary to Christian modesty, hold it for Christ's sake, or you are undone. Take care lest Satan ensnare you in your speech; if he does he will condemn you to a cruel death in hell. Speech is silver and silence is gold. Few, if any, have been saved by much speaking; many have been lost by it. Oh! then, watch your tongue lest it destroy you. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ------------------------ Sermon CXXXVI. _Render, therefore, to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, and to God the things that are God's._ --St. Matthew xxii. 21. What does our Lord mean by this, my brethren? He seems to say that there are some things which do not belong to God, but to some one else; that God has only a partial right in this world which he has created. It would appear to belong partly to Cæsar; and who can this Cæsar be, who shares the earth with its Creator? Cæsar was the name of the Roman emperor, and our Lord means by Cæsar the temporal authority of the state. Now, it must seem absurd to any Catholic, and indeed to any one who believes in God at all, to say that this authority has any right in the world other than that which God has lent to it; so we cannot imagine that our Lord meant anything like that. Nevertheless, there are plenty of people, who do not profess to be atheists, who really maintain not only that the state has rights against him, but even that its right always prevails over his. They say that we must render everything to Cæsar, whether God wants it or not; that the law of the state must be obeyed, even against the law of God as shown to us by conscience. {455} These people are really atheists, whether they profess to be or not. The only true God, in whom we believe, will not and cannot resign his right to our obedience or give up his eternal laws. Nay, more, he will and must reserve to himself the right of making new laws if he pleases, and annulling laws of the state which are contrary to them. Besides all this, he has also only given to the state a limited sphere in which it can work, and in which only its laws can have any force--that is, he will only allow it to make laws providing for the temporal well-being of its subjects. This, then, is what belongs to Cæsar--that is, to the state. It has the right to claim and enforce our obedience to laws intended for the temporal welfare of its subjects, and to these only as far as they are not contrary to the eternal law of God, or to others which he may choose to make. And that is all. When it does not exceed its rights we must give our obedience to it; and we must presume that it does not exceed them unless it is clear that it does. This is what we must render to Cæsar. But how shall we tell that it does exceed its rights? First, by the voice of conscience, when that voice is clear and certain; secondly, by our knowledge of the laws which God himself has made; lastly, by the voice of that other authority which he has put in the world to provide for our spiritual welfare--that is, the Catholic Church. When God speaks to us in either of these ways we must obey him whether it interferes with Cæsar or not; this is what we must render to him. {456} If the state makes a law commanding us to blaspheme, deny our faith, or commit impurity, we will not obey. Conscience annuls such a law. If the state commands us to do servile work on Sunday its law has no force. We know that God's law is against it. And, lastly, if the state goes outside its sphere, and makes laws regarding things not belonging to its jurisdiction, as the sacraments, we are not bound by such laws. It has no power, for instance, to declare marriage among Christians valid or invalid. The church has told us this plainly. It is here specially where the state goes out of its province, that it is subject to correction by the church; though it may be in other matters also. Our Lord, then, means that we should render to Cæsar the things that belong to him, not because of any right that he has in himself, but because God has lent it to him; but that we should render to God the things that he has not lent to Cæsar, whether Cæsar consents or not. Obedience must always be given to God. Give it to him through the state in those things about which he has given the state authority, and in other things without regard to the state; thus shall you render to Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's, and to God the things that are God's. ------------------ {457} _Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost_. Epistle. _Philippians iii._ 17; _iv._ 3. Be followers of me, brethren, and observe them who walk so as you have our model. For many walk, of whom I have told you often (and now tell you weeping) that they are enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame: who mind earthly things. But our conversation is in heaven: from whence also we wait for the Saviour, our Lord Jesus Christ, who will reform the body of our lowness, made like to the body of his glory, according to the operation whereby also he is able to subdue all things unto himself. Therefore, my dearly beloved brethren, and most desired, my joy and my crown: so stand fast in the Lord, my most dearly beloved. I beg of Euodia, and I beseech Syntyche to be of one mind in the Lord. And I entreat thee, my sincere companion, help those women who have labored with me in the Gospel, with Clement and the rest of my fellow-laborers, whose names are in the book of life. Gospel. _St. Matthew ix._ 18-26. At that time: As Jesus was speaking these things unto them, behold a certain ruler came, and adored him, saying: Lord, my daughter is just now dead; but come, lay thy hand upon her, and she shall live. And Jesus, rising up, followed him, with his disciples. And behold a woman who was troubled with an issue of blood twelve years, came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment. For she said within herself: If I shall but touch his garment I shall be healed. But Jesus, turning about and seeing her, said: Take courage, daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole. {458} And the woman was made whole from that hour. And when Jesus came into the house of the ruler, and saw the minstrels and the crowd making a rout, he said: Give place, for the girl is not dead, but sleepeth. And they laughed at him. And when the crowd was turned out he went in, and took her by the hand, and the girl arose. And the fame hereof went abroad into all that country. ----------------- Sermon CXXXVII. _My daughter is just now dead; but come, lay thy hand upon her, and she shall live._ --St. Matthew ix. 18. Such was the entreaty made by the ruler to our Lord in to-day's Gospel, and such are the words that the Lord says to us during the month of November, in behalf of the poor souls in purgatory. These souls have been saved by the Precious Blood, they have been judged by Jesus Christ with a favorable judgment, they are his spouses, his sons and daughters, his children. He cries to us, "_My children_ are even now dead; but come, lay your hands upon them, and they shall live." What hand is that which our Lord wants us to lay upon his dead children? Brethren, it is the hand of prayer. Now, it seems to me that there are three classes of persons who ought to be in an especial manner the friends of God's dead children, three classes who ought always to be extending a helping hand to the souls in purgatory. First, the poor, because the holy souls are poor like yourselves. They have no work--that is to say, the day for them is past in which they could work and gain indulgences and merit, the money with which the debt of temporal punishment is paid; for them the "night has come when no man can work." {459} They are willing to work, they are willing to pay for themselves, but they cannot; they are out of work, they are poor, they cannot help themselves. They are suffering, as the poor suffer in this world from the heats of summer and the frosts of winter. They have no food; they are hungry and thirsty; they are longing for the sweets of heaven. They are in exile; they have no home; they know there is abundance of food and raiment around them which they cannot themselves buy. It seems to them that the winter will never pass, that the spring will never come; in a word they are _poor_. They are poor as many of you are poor. They are in worse need than the most destitute among you. Oh! then, ye that are poor, help the holy souls by your prayers. Secondly, the rich ought to be the special friends of those who are in purgatory, and among the rich we wish to include those who are what people call "comfortably off." God has given you charge of the poor; you can help them by your alms in this world, so you can in the next. You can have Masses said for them; you can say lots of prayers for them, because you have plenty of time on your hands. Again remember, many of those who were your equals in this world, who like yourselves had a good supply of this world's goods, have gone to purgatory because those riches were a snare to them. Riches, my dear friends, have sent many a soul to the place of purification. Oh! then, those of you who are well off, have pity upon the poor souls in purgatory. Offer up a good share of your wealth to have Masses said for them. Do some act of charity, and offer the merit of it for some soul who was ensnared by riches and who is now paying the penalty in suffering; and spend some considerable portion of your spare time in praying for the souls of the faithful departed. {460} And lastly, the sinners and those who have been converted from a very sinful life ought to be the friends of God's dear children. Why? Because although the souls in purgatory cannot pray for themselves, they can pray for others, and these prayers are most acceptable to God. Because, too, they are full of gratitude, and they will not forget those who helped them when they shall come before the throne of God. Because sinners, having saddened the Sacred Heart of Jesus by their sins, cannot make a better reparation to it than to hasten the time when he shall embrace these souls that he loves so dearly and has wished for so long. Because sinners have almost always been the means of the sins of others. They have, by their bad example, sent others to purgatory. Ah! then, if they have helped them in they should help them out. You, then, that are poor, you that are rich, you that have been great sinners, listen to the voice of Jesus; listen to the plaint of Mary during this month of November: "My children are now dead; come lay thy prayers up for them, and they shall live." Hear Mass for the poor souls; say your beads for them; supplicate Jesus and Mary and Joseph in their behalf. Fly to St. Catherine of Genoa and beg her to help them, and many and many a time during the month say with great fervor: "May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace!" Rev. Algernon A. Brown. -------------------------- {461} Sermon CXXXVIII. _When Jesus was come into the house of the ruler, and saw the minstrels and the crowd making a rout, he said, "Give place."_ --St. Matthew ix. 23. One of the great difficulties against which God's church has to contend to-day is the spirit of worldliness which has crept in to a very serious extent among the faithful. There are many dear brethren among us who (as St. Paul says to-day in the Epistle) "mind earthly things"; Catholics who try as far as they can to conform themselves to this world and the fashions thereof. We can see this worldly spirit in the manner in which many Catholics dress, the style with which they decorate their houses, the way in which they speak and act. But there is another way by which this tendency is indicated. I mean the manner in which we bury our dead. Now, certainly, there is nothing more beautiful to the eye of faith than a dead Christian body. What is it that lies there still, and motionless, and cold? A corpse? Yes; but something more than that. Brethren, that poor dead thing is beautiful, it is holy. Its head has been touched by the cleansing waters of baptism and anointed with holy chrism, its tongue has touched the Body and Blood of Christ. Its eyes, ears, and hands, all its senses have been anointed with holy oil. That poor body has been the temple of the Holy Ghost. More than this: that cold clay is a germ, a seed from which one day shall rise a fairer flower than earth hath ever seen; for, as St. Paul says, "That which thou sowest is not quickened except it die first. And that which thou sowest thou sowest not the body that shall be, but bare grain, as of wheat or of some of the rest." {462} Yes, brethren, this dead thing is the "bare grain," but in the eternal spring-time it shall bud forth into the full ear, for it is the seed of a body glorified by the power of God. Oh! then, seeing how holy the dead body of a Christian is, no wonder that the church should surround the burial of it with a certain holy pomp. She burns lights by its side, she carries it in procession, she sprinkles it with holy water, she censes it with incense. Not only does she pray for the soul, she also respects the body. So then, dear friends, to show respect for the dead, to surround them with that pomp which the church wishes, is well and good; but to make a dead body an object about which to display earthly vanity and pride is to defile that which is holy and outrage that which is decent. Yet this is often done. In place of the simple shroud or the holy habit which used to be considered the proper raiment of the departed, we now see them arrayed in garments which vie in extravagance and fashion with those of the theatre and the ball-room. Oh! brethren, when I think of our dear Master's body, in Bethlehem's manger, wrapped up in swathing bands, in the holy garden enveloped in linen cloths, and even to this day reposing upon our altars on the fair white linen corporal, it shocks me to think of those Christian dead who go down to the tomb decked out in silks and lace, and satins and trinkets, as though they were rather the votaries of earth than the heirs of the kingdom of heaven. I seem to see the Master standing by, and saying, "Give place." {463} Again, what an abuse it is to see a body followed to the grave by a train of carriages which would often be more than enough for the funeral of a cardinal or a pope. What some one has called "the eternal fitness of things" requires that something of public display should be made over those whom God has set in authority. But to make such display over any ordinary Christian is simply absurd. Oh! my dear friends, far better spend your money to have Masses said for the soul than for a hundred vehicles to follow the body. Alas! I fear those hundred carriages and two hundred horses soothe your pride far more than they comfort the poor soul in purgatory who is panting and longing for the possession of God. Let me end with a slight paraphrase of the text, such as we may imagine our Lord, were he now on earth, might use: "And when Jesus was come into the house of death, and saw the silks and the satins, and the worldly display, and the multitude making a tumult, and the horses and the carriages, and the garlands and the wreaths, and the feasting, he said: Give place, give place to me and to my church; and may the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace. Amen." Rev. Algernon A. Brown. --------------------- Sermon CXXXIX. _Many walk, of whom I have told you often (and now tell you weeping) that they are enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame: who mind earthly things._ --Philippians iii. 18, 19. {464} Here St. Paul gives us, dear brethren, a rule by which we may know, by their manner of living, the difference between the bad and the good anywhere in the world. This rule, however, shows us also who is a bad Christian and who is a good one. For it is too true that we can find many, calling themselves Catholics, who hate the cross, who find their happiness in sensuality, who love this world more than they love God, and who make a boast of their sins and crimes. The end of these is indeed destruction and eternal ruin. Now, who are they? One need not go far to find them. They are those who are boasting about how much they can eat and drink more than another. They are those who try to drink others drunk, and then brag about it. They even make a laughing-stock of the poor, wretched man or woman who can't stand as much as they can. Neither are they to be found only among the men who almost live around and in grog-shops. Young men of great respectability and old gray-headed parents, of high position in society, do these things. They even look with contempt upon him who can't sin as much and as boldly as they do. More than all, the poor man feels ashamed and blushes because he is not superior to them in this kind of wickedness. In the same way do some boast of their impurities, and their lying and swindling, in a business way, as they call it. These indeed glory in that which is a shame to the heathen. How much more, indeed, then, is this a shame to him who calls himself a Christian. {465} But these are not the only crimes in which they glory who are enemies of the cross of Jesus Christ. There are those who cannot bear to be outdone in malice or revenge. Often do we hear them say, "I paid him off for it," or again, "She got as good as she sent." This generally means that by malice, spite, revenge, the one who did the first wrong was punished more severely than justice required. It means that the devil and one's evil passions were listened to, their promptings followed, and all made a boast of afterwards. A beautiful Christian example! Two immortal souls trying to see which can insult the crucified Redeemer the most! How can such an one ever kiss the crucifix? How dare to press those lips there represented, from which blessings were always returned for cursing? Again, those who glory in their shame are those who boast of their careless lives, of never going to Mass, to confession, or to their Easter-duty, and of never observing the light law of the church by keeping the fasts of Lent and other days. Others, again, boast of spending their money freely, not heeding the cries of wife and children for food. They neglect those who have been entrusted to them by God. They let the poor wife work herself to death merely because they love the praise of a world which calls their folly openheartedness. These are really the meanest of men, but they believe the world when it calls them good, generous, noble. All of these are, indeed, truly enemies of the cross which all Christians are bound to love. They are its enemies because the cross saves mankind, whereas they try to ruin souls. By their example and false teaching they make others like themselves. They help souls to hell while our crucified Lord is trying to save them. They take the part of the devil against their God. --------------------- {466} _Easter being a movable Feast which can occur on any day from the 22d of March to the 25th of April, the number of Sundays between Epiphany and Septuagesima, and between Pentecost and Advent, varies according to the situation of Easter. There are always at least two Sundays, unless Epiphany falls on a Sunday, and never more than six, between Epiphany and Septuagesima. Likewise, there are never fewer than twenty-three Sundays after Pentecost, or more than twenty-eight. The Gospel and Epistle for the last Sunday after Pentecost are always the same. When there are twenty-three Sundays, the Gospel and Epistle for the last Sunday are substituted for those of the twenty-third. When there are twenty-five Sundays, the Gospel and Epistle for the sixth Sunday after Epiphany are taken; when there are twenty-six, those also of the fifth after Epiphany; when there are twenty-seven, those of the fourth, and when there are twenty-eight those of the third, in order to fill up the interval which occurs. In any year, in which there are more than twenty-four Sundays after Pentecost, proper sermons for these Sundays are to be found among those which are arranged for the Sundays following the Feast of the Epiphany. If one sermon is wanting, it is taken from the sixth Sunday after Epiphany; if two, three, or four are needed, the last two or three or four sermons which precede Septuagesima are to be taken, in their order._ -------------------- {467} _Twenty-fourth or Last Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Colossians i._ 9-14. Brethren: We cease not to pray for you, and to beg that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding: that you may walk worthy of God, in all things pleasing: being fruitful in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God: strengthened with all might according to the power of his glory, in all patience and long-suffering with joy, giving thanks to God the Father, who hath made us worthy to be partakers of the lot of the saints in light: who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of the Son of his love: in whom we have redemption through his blood, the remission of sins. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxiv._ 15-35. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: When you shall see "the abomination of desolation," which was spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing in the holy place: he that readeth, let him understand. Then let those that are in Judea flee to the mountains. And he that is on the house-top, let him not come down to take anything out of his house: and he that is in the field, let him not go back to take his coat. And woe to them that are with child, and that give suck in those days. But pray that your flight be not in the winter or on the Sabbath. For there shall be then great tribulation, such as hath not been from the beginning of the world until now, neither shall be. And unless those days had been shortened, no flesh should be saved: but for the sake of the elect those days shall be shortened. {468} Then, if any man shall say to you: Lo, here is Christ, or there, do not believe him. For there shall arise false christs and false prophets, and shall show great signs and wonders, insomuch as to deceive (if possible) even the elect. Behold I have told it to you beforehand. If therefore they shall say to you: Behold he is in the desert; go ye not out: Behold he is in the closets; believe it not. For as lightning cometh out of the east, and appeareth even unto the west, so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be. Wheresoever the body shall be, there shall the eagles also be gathered together. And immediately after the tribulation of those days, the sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be moved. And then shall appear the sign of the Son of Man in heaven: and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn: and they shall see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven with great power and majesty. And he shall send his angels with a trumpet, and a great voice: and they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from the farthest parts of the heavens to the uttermost bounds of them. Now learn a parable from the fig tree: when its branch is now tender, and the leaves come forth, you know that summer is nigh. So also you, when you shall see all these things, know that it is near, even at the doors. Amen I say to you, this generation shall not pass till all these things be done. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away. --------------- Sermon CXL. _Behold I have told it to you beforehand._ --St. Matthew xxiv. 25. {469} Once in a venerable manor-house, at the head of the carved oak stairway, stood an old clock. About half a minute before it struck it made a curious, buzzing, whirring sound. Then all the children of the house said, "Ah! the old clock is _warning_"; and upstairs they ran to see the clock strike. The clock told them beforehand what it was going to do. Now, brethren, there is a clock that has gone on warning and striking for many a century, and that clock is called "the Church's Year." It was wound up last Advent, and since then it has struck Christmas, it has struck Epiphany, it has struck St. Paul's Day, it has struck Easter, Pentecost, Assumption, All Saints and All Souls. To-day it has nearly run down; it is _warning_ for next Sunday, when it will strike Advent again. The Church, next Sunday, will bring you face to face with judgment. To-day she _warns_ you that the great season of Advent is coming once more; that the old year is passing, that the new one is about to begin. So, then, brethren, before the clock strikes for judgment, before time is dead, while life and grace and opportunities still remain, take up your stand before the old clock; look at the hours depicted on the dial, and ask yourself how you spent last year, how you would be prepared if judgment should come to you a week hence. Listen! How merrily that chime rings. You heard it about a year ago. It was the Church clock striking Christmas. Where were you then? Some of you, we know, were where you should be--at holy Mass, receiving Holy Communion at the altar-rail. You heard the organ pealing and the choir singing _Adeste fideles_; you saw the little Infant Jesus in the crib, and the bright evergreens decking the church, and felt in your hearts that indeed there was peace on earth. Happy you if it was thus. {470} But alas! was it so? Were you not away from Mass last Christmas? Were you not neglecting your religion? Were you not in mortal sin? Were you not revelling, getting drunk, thinking rather of feasting and enjoying yourselves than of devotion and thanksgiving? Then the hour of Epiphany struck! What gifts had you to bring to the manger-bed? Had you the gold of Christian charity to present? Had you the incense of faith and the myrrh of sweet and fragrant hope? Ah! it is to be feared that some knelt not at the manger-bed of Jesus, but on the brink of hell: forgetting God, scandalizing their neighbor, damning their own souls. On the "Feast of Light" (as the Epiphany is sometimes called) some were kneeling at the shrine of the world and '"holding the candle to the devil." Didn't you hear the pendulum of the old clock ticking, ticking, and seeming to say, as it swung: "Behold! I have told you beforehand! Behold! I have told you beforehand!" Why, then, did you not do penance? Then came Lent; and on the first Sunday of that holy time the clock warned loud and clear for Easter. A voice almost seemed to be heard shouting in your ears: "Easter-duty! Easter-duty! 'Time and tide wait for no man!'" And so at last the clock struck. Easter had passed. You had been "told beforehand." You did not heed, and thus, oh! listen heaven, and listen hell, another Easter-duty was missed, and another mortal sin committed. To-day, dear friends, the Church clock warns you again. The Church herself cries to you to cast "off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light." Give ear, then, while there is yet life and hope. Have you been negligent? "Better late than never"; _now_ is the time to mend. {471} Have you been a drunkard? _Now_ "be sober and watch." Have you neglected your children? Begin to care for them as you should. Have you neglected the sacraments? Come, prepare at once to receive them worthily. Whatever your state may be, remember--judgment is coming; death is at hand! Maybe God's clock in heaven already points, for you, at the last hour; maybe this is the last time that you will be _warned_, and then the clock will _strike_ and you will be in eternity. Time and tide are rushing on. Every tick of the clock brings you nearer heaven or nearer hell. Oh! then prepare yourself for the great day, that so when time _is_ dead and gone; when the great clock strikes for the _last_ time, you may be found ready, and go in with Jesus to his marriage feast. Rev. Algernon A. Brown. ----------------------------- Sermon CXLI. _That you may walk worthy of God._ --Colossians i. 10. "Brethren," says St. Paul, in the Epistle of this Sunday, "we cease not to pray for you, ... that you may walk worthy of God." These words may, no doubt, be understood to mean that we should live in such a way as to be worthy to receive God in his Real Presence at the time of Holy Communion, and by his grace at all times; and, finally, to receive him, and to be received by him, in his eternal kingdom of glory. But there is another sense, perhaps a more natural one, and certainly a more special one, in which we may understand them. {472} This sense is, that we should live in a way worthy of, and suitable to, the dignity and the favor which he has conferred upon us, in making or considering us worthy, as the apostle goes on to say, "to be partakers of the lot of the saints in light"--that is in bringing us into, and making us members of, his one, true, and Holy Catholic Church. In other words, that we should behave in such a way as to be creditable to him and to his holy church, to which we belong. Now, this is a point the importance of which cannot be overrated, and which we are too apt to forget. We lose sight of the fact that the honor of God and of his church has been placed in our hands, and confided to our charge; so that every sin which we commit, besides its own proper malice, has the malice of an indignity to the holy state to which we have been called. For this reason, a sin committed by a Catholic is always greater than the same sin committed by any one else; not only on account of the greater grace and clearer light which he has received, but also because God is more specially robbed of his honor by it. You all see this plainly enough when it is a question of a sin committed by one who has been called to the ecclesiastical or religious state. If a priest or a religious is guilty of any offence, though it be but a small one, you are scandalized by it, not only because he ought to have been better able to avoid it, but also because it dishonors God's choice of him to be a special image in this world of his divine goodness. {473} But you forget that you also, merely because you are Catholics, dishonor God, and bring him and his holy religion into contempt by the sins which you commit. It is plain enough, however, that you do, though in a somewhat less degree than those whom he has more specially chosen. And other people do not forget it, though you may. "Look at those Catholics," the world outside is continually saying; "they may belong to the true church, but they do not do much honor to it. See how they drink, lie, and swear. If that is all the good it does one to be a Catholic, I would rather take my chance of saving my soul somewhere else than be reckoned among such people." Now, it is all very true that such talk as this is unjust and unfair, and that the very persons who say such things may really be much worse, at least considering their temptations, than those whom they find fault with. But still they have a right to find fault that those whom God has brought into the true church are not evidently as much better as they ought to be, than those whom he has not; and you cannot altogether blame them for finding fault with him rather than with yourselves, and saying that this Catholic Church of his is rather a poor instrument to save the world with. Remember then, my brethren, that a bad Catholic is a disgrace to his church, and a dishonor to Almighty God, who founded it. A story is told of a man who, when drunk, would deny that he was a Catholic; he had the right feeling on this point, though he committed a greater sin to save a less one. Imitate him, not in denying your faith, but in taking care not to disgrace it; for God will surely require of you an account, not only of your sins, but also of the dishonor which they have brought on the holy name by which you are called. ------------------ {474} Sermon CXLII. _As lightning cometh out of the east, and appeareth even unto the west: so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be._ --St. Matthew xxiv. 27. These words of our Lord, my dear brethren, refer principally to the general judgment, which will come suddenly upon all, at least all of those who shall be alive at the time when it shall occur. And he could not have used a more striking comparison to show how sudden it will be; how it will take every one unawares, even of those who will be expecting it. You know that when you watch the flashes of lightning in a thunder-storm, though you are expecting them all the time, yet each one takes you by surprise; you hardly know that it has come till it has gone; you do not so much see it as remember it. So it will be at the last and awful day; all at once, without any warning, the heavens will open, and God will come suddenly, not this time in mercy, but in justice; not to save the world, but to judge it; there will be no time even for an act of contrition, but as every one is then found, so will he be for all eternity. Probably you and I will not be in this world at the time of the general judgment; it is most likely that we shall die before it comes. We shall rise from our graves and be present at it, but we shall have been already judged; so that it will not be by it that we shall be saved or lost. But that judgment which we shall have gone through will perhaps also have come on us suddenly; as suddenly as the one on the last day. For it will come on us the instant that our souls leave the body; the moment after we die we shall appear before the throne of God to receive the sentence of eternal salvation or condemnation. So it may surprise us at any moment; for we may suddenly die. {475} There is not one of us here who has any certainty that he may not before to-day's sun sets, nay, even this very hour or minute, even before he can draw another breath, be standing before that terrible judgment seat, and receiving that sentence from which there is no appeal. How often do we hear of people suddenly struck down by death without a moment's warning; people who were promising themselves, as you no doubt are promising yourselves, many more days to live. They did not do anything, so far as we can see, to deserve such a sudden blow; they were living lives no worse and no better than those of others around them. "Those eighteen," says our Lord, "upon whom the tower fell in Siloe, and slew them; think you that they also were debtors--that is to say, sinners--above all the men that dwelt in Jerusalem?" No, God calls us suddenly in this way to show that he is the owner of our lives, that he has made no promise to give any one of us a single moment beyond those which he has already given. But sudden death is not, we may say, any special visitation of God. It is natural, not wonderful. If you could see the way in which your own bodies are made, you would wonder not so much that people die suddenly, but rather that they should die in any other way. It is not more surprising that one should die suddenly than that a watch should suddenly stop. The body is in many ways a more delicate thing than a watch; and in its most delicate parts the slightest thing out of order may be fatal. So we continue to live rather by the special care which our Lord takes to preserve our lives, than by any hold which our souls have on our bodies. {476} But you will say, "After all, father, very few really do die suddenly, compared to those who have time to prepare." Well, it is true that there are not many who pass instantly from full health into the shadow of death; but if there were only one in a million, is it not a terrible risk for one who is not prepared? And, besides, in another way it is not true. For almost all die sooner than they expect. All think, even when they have some fatal illness, that they will have more time than is really to be given them. Death, when it actually comes, is a surprise; for every one, perhaps, the coming of the Son of Man is at the last like the lightning; every one expects it, but not just then; every one looks for a few moments more. When you think of these things, my dear brethren, there is only one reasonable resolution for you to make. It is to live in such a way that you may be ready to die at any instant; to be like those wise virgins of whom the Gospel of to-day's feast, the feast of the glorious martyr St. Catherine, tells us, who had oil in their lamps when the cry came at midnight: "Behold the bridegroom cometh, go ye forth to meet him." To have the grace of God, which is represented by that oil, always in the lamp of your soul; to be always in the state of grace, never in that of sin; for most assuredly that cry will come to each one of you, and sooner than you think; and woe be to you if you are not prepared when it shall sound in your ears! ---------------------- 
20138	----	Transcribed from the 1884 Kegan Paul, Trench, & Co., edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org TRUE WORDS FOR BRAVE MEN. BY CHARLES KINGSLEY, LATE RECTOR OF EVERSLEY; CHAPLAIN TO THE QUEEN AND TO THE PRINCE OF WALES. _A BOOK FOR SOLDIERS' AND SAILORS' LIBRARIES_. ELEVENTH THOUSAND. LONDON: KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, & CO., 1 PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 1884. _The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are Reserved_. Dedicated BY KIND PERMISSION TO GENERAL SIR WILLIAM CODRINGTON, G.C.B., AND ADMIRAL WELLESLEY, C.B., IN MEMORY OF CHARLES KINGSLEY, WHO WAS PROUD OF THEIR FRIENDSHIP, AND LOVED AND HONOURED THEM AS HE LOVED AND HONOURED ALL BRAVE SOLDIERS AND SAILORS. "Yet was he courteous still to every wight, And loved them that did to armes incline." SPENSER. INTRODUCTORY NOTE. This little volume is selected from the unpublished sermons and addresses of Charles Kingsley by the request of a Colonel of Artillery, and with the sanction of an Army Chaplain of long experience, who knew the influence of his writings on soldiers, and who wish that that influence may live, though he is no longer here. The Lecture on Cortez was given at Aldershot Camp in 1858, and the Address to Brave Soldiers and Sailors written for and sent out to the troops before Sebastopol in the winter of 1855, when Mr. Kingsley's own heart, with that of all England, was grieving over the sufferings of our noble army in the Crimea. F. E. K. I. THE GOOD CENTURION; OR, THE MAN UNDER AUTHORITY. "And when Jesus was entered into Capernaum, there came unto Him a centurion, beseeching Him and saying, Lord, my servant lieth at home, sick of the palsy, grievously tormented. And Jesus said unto him, I will come and heal him. The centurion answered and said, Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldest come under my roof: but speak the word only, and my servant shall be healed. For I am a man under authority, having soldiers under me, and I say unto this man, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh; and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it. When Jesus heard it, he marvelled, and said to them that followed, Verily I say unto you, I have not found such great faith, no, not in Israel."--MATT. viii. 5-10. We find in Holy Scripture, that of the seven heathens who were first drawn to our Lord Jesus Christ and His gospel, three were soldiers. The first was the Centurion, of whom our Lord speaks in such high terms of commendation. The next, the Centurion who stood by His cross, and said, "Truly this was the son of God." Old legends say that his name was Longinus, and tell graceful tales of his after-life, which one would fain believe, if there were any evidence of their truth. The third, of course, was Cornelius, of whom we read in the Acts of the Apostles. Now these three Centurions--commanding each a hundred men--had probably risen from the ranks; they were not highly educated men; they had seen endless cruelty and immorality; they may have had, at times, to do ugly work themselves, in obedience to orders. They were doing, at the time when they are mentioned in Scripture, almost the worst work which a soldier can do. For they were not defending their own country against foreign enemies. They were keeping down a conquered nation, by a stern military despotism, in which the soldiery acted not merely as police, but as gaolers and executioners. And yet three men who had such work as this to do, are singled out in Scripture to become famous through all time, as the first-fruits of the heathen; and of one of them our Lord said, "I have not found such great faith, no, not in Israel." Why is this? Was there anything in these soldiers' profession, in these soldiers' training, which made them more ready than other men to acknowledge the Lord Jesus Christ? And if so; what was it? Let us take the case of this first Centurion, and see if it will tell us. We will not invent any reasons of our own for his great faith. We will let him give his own reasons. We will let him tell his own story. We may trust it; for our blessed Lord approved of it. Our Lord plainly thought that what the soldier had spoken, he had spoken well. And yet it is somewhat difficult to understand what was in his mind. He was plainly no talker; no orator. Like many a good English soldier, sailor, yeoman, man of business, he had very sound instincts in him, and drew very sound conclusions from them: but he could not put them into words. He knew that he was right, but he could not make a speech about it. Better that, than be--as too many are--ready to make glib speeches, which they only half believe themselves; ready to deceive themselves with subtle arguments and high-flown oratory, till they can give the most satisfactory reasons for doing the most unsatisfactory and unreasonable things. No, the good soldier was no orator: but he had sound sense under his clumsy words. Let us listen to them once more. "I am a man under authority, having soldiers under me. And I say to this man, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh; and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it." Surely the thought which was in his mind is to be found in the very words which he used--Authority. Subordination. Discipline. Obedience. He was under authority, and must obey his superior officer. He had soldiers under him, and they must obey him. There must be not only no mutiny, but no neglect, no arguing, no asking why. If he said Go, a man must go; if he said Come, a man must come; and make no words about it. Otherwise the Emperor's service would go to ruin, through laziness, distrust, and mutinous talk. By subordination, by discipline, by mutual trust and strict obedience, that empire of Rome was conquering the old world; because every Roman knew his place, and every Roman did what he was told. But what had that to do with our Lord's power, and with the healing of the child? This. The honest soldier had, I think, in his mind, that subordination was one of the most necessary things in the world; that without it the world could not go on. Then he said to himself, "If there must be subordination on earth, must there not be subordination in heaven?" If he, a poor officer, could get his commands obeyed, by merely speaking the word; then how much more could God. If Jesus was--as He said--as His disciples said--the Lord, the God of the Jews: then He had no need to come and see a sick man; no need to lay His hands on him; to perform ceremonies or say prayers over him. The Laws of Nature, by which health and sickness come, would obey His word of command without rebellion and without delay. "Speak the word only, Lord, and my servant shall be healed." But how did the Centurion know--seemingly at first sight, that Jesus was the Lord God? Ah, how indeed? I think it was because he had learnt the soldier's lesson. He had seen many a valiant officer--Tribunes, Prefects, Consuls, Emperors, commanding men; and fit to command men. There was no lack of such men in the Roman empire then, as the poor, foolish, unruly Jews found out to their cost within the next forty years. And the good Centurion had been accustomed to look at such men; and to look up to them beside, and say not merely--It is a duty to obey these men, but--It is a delight to obey them. He had been accustomed--as it is good for every man to be accustomed--to meet men superior to himself; men able to guide and rule him. And he had learned--as every good soldier ought to learn--when he met such a man, not to envy him, not to backbite him, not to intrigue against him, not to try to pull him down: but to accept him for what he was--a man who was to be followed, if need be, to the death. There was in that good Centurion none of the base spirit of envy, which dreads and therefore hates excellence, hates ability, hates authority; the mutinous spirit which ends, not--as it dreams--in freedom and equality, but in slavery and tyranny; because it transforms a whole army--a whole nation--from what it should be, a pack of staunch and faithful hounds, into a mob of quarrelsome and greedy curs. Not of that spirit was the good Centurion: but of the spirit of reverence and loyalty; the spirit which delights in, and looks up to, all that is brave and able, great and good; the spirit of true independence, true freedom, and the true self-respect which respects its fellow men; and therefore it was, that when the Centurion came into the divine presence of Christ, he knew at once, instinctively and by a glance, into what a presence he had come. Christ's mere countenance, Christ's mere bearing, I believe, told that good soldier who He was. He knew of old the look of great commanders: and now he saw a countenance, in spite of all its sweetness, more commanding than he had ever seen before. He knew of old the bearing of Consuls and of Emperors: and now, in spite of Christ's lowly disguise, he recognised the bearing of an Emperor of emperors, a King of kings. He had learnt of old to know a man when he met one; and now, he felt that he had met the Man of all men, the Son of Man; and that so God-like was His presence, that He must be likewise the Son of God. And so had this good soldier his reward; his reward for the soldierly qualities which he had acquired; for subordination; for reverence; for admiration of great and able men. And what was his reward? Not merely that his favourite servant was healed at his request: but that he learnt to know the Lord Jesus Christ, whom truly to know is everlasting life; whom the selfish, the conceited, the envious, the slanderous, the insolent, the mutinous, know not, and never will know; for they are not of His Spirit, neither is He of theirs. But more: What is the moral which old divines have drawn from this story? "If you wish to govern: learn first to obey." That is a moral lesson more valuable than even the use of arms. To learn--as the good Centurion learnt--that a free man can give up his independence without losing it. Losing it? Independence is never more called out than by subordination. A man never feels himself so much of a free man as when he is freely obeying those whom the laws of his country have set over him. A man never feels so able as when he is following the lead of an abler man than himself. Remember this. Make it a point of honour to do your duty earnestly, scrupulously, and to the uttermost; and you will find that the habits of self-restraint, discipline, and obedience, which you, as soldiers, have learned, will stand you in good stead for the rest of your lives, and make you each, in his place, fit to rule, just because you have learned to obey. But now go on a step, as the good Centurion went on, and say--If there is no succeeding in earthly things, whether in soldiering or any other profession, without subordination; without obeying rules and orders strictly and without question: then perhaps there is no succeeding in spiritual and heavenly things. For has not God His moral Laws, His spiritual Laws, which must be obeyed, if you intend to prosper in this life, or in the life to come? "Thou _shalt_ love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and soul, and thy neighbour as thyself. Thou _shalt_ honour thy father and thy mother. Thou _shalt not_ kill, steal, commit adultery, slander, or covet." So it is written: not merely on those old tables of stone on Sinai; but in The Eternal Will of God, and in the very nature of this world, which God has made. There is no escaping those Laws. They fulfil themselves. God says to them, "Go," and they go; "Come," and they come; "Do justice on the offender," and they do it. If we are fools and disobey them, they will grind us to powder. If we are wise and obey them, they will reward us. For in wisdom's right hand is length of days, and in her left hand riches and honour. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to them that lay hold of her, and blessed is every one that retaineth her; as God grant you all will do. But you, too, in time may have soldiers under you. Think, I beseech you, earnestly of this, and for their sake, as well as for your own, try by God's help to live worthy of Christian English men. Let them see you going out and coming in, whether on duty or by your own firesides, as men who feel that they are "ever beneath their great taskmaster's eye;" who have a solemn duty to perform, namely, the duty of living like good men toward your superior officers, your families, your neighbours, your country, and your God--even towards that Saviour who so loved you that He died for you on the cross, to set you the example of what true men should be; the example of perfect duty, perfect obedience, perfect courage, perfect generosity--in one word--the example of a perfect Hero. Live such lives, and then, will be fulfilled to you, and to your children after you, from generation to generation, the promises which God made, ages since, to the men of Judea of old; promises which are all true still, and will continue true, in every country of the world, till the world's end. "Put thou thy trust in the Lord, and be doing good; dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. The Lord knoweth the doings of the righteous; and their inheritance shall endure for ever. They shall not be confounded in the perilous time; and in the days of dearth they shall have enough. The Lord ordereth a good man's going; and maketh his way acceptable to himself. Though he fall, he shall not be cast down; for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand. I have been young, and now I am old; yet saw I never the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread. Flee from evil, and do the thing that is good; and dwell for evermore. For the Lord loveth the thing that is right; He forsaketh not his that are godly, but they are preserved for ever." Amen. II. CHRIST IS COME. A CHRISTMAS SERMON. "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth even for ever."--ISAIAH ix. 6, 7. It is now more than three thousand years ago that God made to Abraham the promise, "In thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed." Again the promise was renewed to Moses when he was commanded to tell the Jews, "a prophet shall the Lord your God raise up unto you, like unto me. Hear ye him . . ." In David's Psalms, again, this same strange person was spoken of who was already, and yet who was to come. David calls him the Son of God, the King of kings. Again, in the Prophets, in many strange and mysterious words, is this same being spoken of as a virgin's child--"Behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name shall be called Emmanuel, God with us;" and again, "Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God--the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace." And again, "There shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him,--the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. And with righteousness shall He judge the poor," &c. And again, "Thou Bethlehem, though thou be little among the princes of Judah, yet out of thee shall come forth He that is to be ruler in Israel, whose goings forth have been from everlasting. And He shall be great unto the ends of the earth." But time would fail me if I tried to repeat to you half the passages wherein the old Jewish prophets foretold Him who was to come, and in whom all the nations of the earth should be blessed, more and more clearly as the time drew nigh. Well, my friends, surely you know of whom I have been speaking--of whom Moses and the prophets spoke--of Him who was born of a village maiden, laid in a manger, proclaimed of angels to the shepherds, worshipped with hymns of glory by the heavenly host on the first Christmas day eighteen hundred and seventy-eight years ago, as we count time. Aye, strange as it may seem, _He is come_, and in Him all the nations of the earth are blessed. _He is come_--the Conqueror of Evil--the desire of all nations--the Law-giver--the Lamb which was to suffer for our sins--the King of kings--the Light which should lighten the heathen--the Virgin's child, of wondrous wisdom, whose name should be God as well as man--whom all the heathens, amid strange darkness and mad confusions, had still been fearing and looking for. _He is come_--He came on that first Christmas-tide. And we here on each Christmas-tide can thank God for His coming, and say before men and angels, "Unto us a child is born--the Prince of Peace is _ours_--to His kingdom we belong--He has borne about on Him a man's body, a man's soul and spirit--He was born like us--like us He grew--like us He rejoiced and sorrowed--tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin--able to the uttermost to understand and help all who come to God by Him. He has bruised the serpent's head--He has delivered us from the power of darkness, and brought us into _His_ kingdom. Through His blood we have redemption and forgiveness--yes! through Him who, though He was laid in a manger, was yet the image of the unseen God. And by Him, and for Him--that Babe of Bethlehem--were all things created in heaven and earth--and He is before all things, and by Him all things consist. All heaven and earth, and all the powers therein, are held together by Him. For it pleased the Father that in _Him_ should all fulness dwell; and having made peace through the blood of His cross, to reconcile by that child all things unto Himself--all things in heaven--all things in earth." This should be our boast--this should be our glory--for this do we meet together every Christmas day. But what is all this to us if that Blessed Man be gone away from us? Our souls want more than I have told you yet. Our souls want more than a beautiful and wonderful story _about_ Christ. They want Christ Himself. Preaching is blessed and useful if it speaks of Christ. Our own thoughts are blessed and useful if we think of Christ. The Bible is most blessed and useful containing all things necessary to salvation, for it speaks of Christ. Our prayers are blessed and useful if in them we call and cry earnestly to Christ. But neither preaching, nor thinking, nor praying are enough. In them we think about Him and speak to Him. _But we want Him to speak to us_. We want not merely a man to say, your sins _may_ be forgiven you; we want Christ Himself to say, "Your sins _are_ forgiven you." We want not merely a wise book to tell us that the good men of old belonged to Christ's kingdom--we want Christ Himself to tell us that we belong to His kingdom. We want not merely a book that tells us that He promised always to be with us--we want Him Himself to tell us that He is really now with us. We want not merely a promise from a prophet of old that in Him all the nations of the earth shall be blessed, but a sign from Christ Himself that this nation of England is really now blest in Him. In short, we want not words, however true words, however fine words, _about_ Christ. We want Christ Himself to forgive us our sins--to give peace and freedom to our hearts--to come to us unseen, and fill us with thoughts and longings such as our fallen nature cannot give us--such thoughts and feelings as we cannot explain in words, for they are too deep and blessed to be talked about--but thoughts which say to us, as if the blessed Jesus Himself spoke to us in the depths of our hearts, "Poor, struggling, sinful brother! _thou art mine_. For thee I was born--for thee I died--thee I will teach--I will guide thee and inform thee with mine eye--I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." Well--you want _Him_--and you want a sign of Him--a sign of His own giving that _He is among you this day_--a sign of His own giving that He has taken you into His kingdom--a sign of His own giving that He died for you--that He will feed and strengthen your souls in you with His own life and His own body. Then--there is a sign--there is the sign which has stood stedfast and sure to you--and to your fathers--and your forefathers before them--back for eighteen hundred years, over half the world. There is the bread of which He said, "Take, eat, this is my body which is broken for you." There is the wine of which He said, "This cup is the New Covenant in my blood, which is shed for you, and for many, for the forgiveness of sins." There is His sign. Don't ask _how_. Don't try to explain it away, and fancy that you can find fitter, and soberer, and safer, and more gospel- sounding words than Jesus Christ's own, by which to speak of His own Sacrament. But say, with the great Queen Elizabeth of old, when men tried too curiously to enquire into her opinion concerning this blessed mystery-- "Christ made the Word and spake it, He took the bread and brake it, And what His Word did make it, That I believe, and take it." He said, "This bread is my body which was broken for you." He said, "This cup is the New Testament in my blood." Is it? or is it not? And if it is, is not Christ among us now, indeed? Is not that something better than all the preaching in the world? Jesus Christ, the King of kings--the Saviour--the Deliverer--the Lamb of God--the Everlasting Son--the Word--the Light--the Life--is here among us ready to feed our souls in the Holy Sacrament of His body and blood, as surely as that bread and wine will feed our bodies--yea--to feed our souls and bodies to everlasting life. "Ho! every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters and drink. Come, buy wine without money and without price." III. IS, OR IS NOT, THE BIBLE TRUE? "If I say the truth, why do ye not believe Me?"--JOHN viii. 46. Is, or is not, the Bible true? To this question we must all come some day or other. Do you believe that that book which lies there, which we call the Bible, is a true book, or a lying book? Is it true or false? Is it right or wrong? Is it from God, or is it not from God? Let us answer that. If it is not from God, let it go; but if it _is_ from God, which we know it is, how dare we disobey it? That _God_, the maker of heaven and earth, should speak to men--should set His commands down in a book and give it to them--and that they should neglect it, disobey it--it is the strangest sight that can be seen on earth! that God in heaven should say one thing, and a human being, six feet high at most, should dare to do another! If the Bible is from God, I say, the question is not whether it is _better_ to obey it or not. Better? there is no better or worse in the matter--it is infinitely necessary. To obey is infinitely right, to disobey is infinitely wrong. To obey is infinitely wise, to disobey is infinite folly. There can be no question about the matter, except in the mind of a fool. Better to obey God's word? Better indeed--for to obey is heaven, to disobey is hell. _That_ is the difference. And at your better moments does not the voice within you, witness to, and agree with, the words of that book? When it tells you to care more for your soul than your body--more for the life to come, which is eternity, than for the present life which lasts but a few years--does not common sense tell you that? The Bible tells you to reverence and love God the giver of all good--does not reason tell you that? The Bible tells you loyally to obey, to love, to worship our blessed King and Saviour in heaven. Does not common sense tell you that? Surely if there be such a person as Jesus Christ--if He is sitting now in heaven as Saviour of all, and one day to be Judge of all--by all means _He_ is to be obeyed, He is to be pleased, whoever else we may displease. Reason, one would think, would tell us that--and it is just want of reason which makes us forget it. What have you to say against the pattern of a true and holy man as laid down in the Bible? The Bible would have you pure--can you deny that you ought to be that? It would have you peaceable--can you deny that you ought to be that? The Bible would have you forgiving, honest, honourable, active, industrious. The Bible would have you generous, loving, charitable. Can you deny that that is right, however some of you may dislike it? The Bible would have you ask all you want from God, and ask forgiveness of God for every offence, great and small, against Him. Can you deny that that is right and reasonable? The Bible would have you live in continual remembrance that the great eye of God is on you--in continual thankfulness to the blessed Saviour who died for you and has redeemed you by His own blood--with daily and hourly prayer for God's Spirit to set your heart and your understanding right on every point. Can you deny that that is all right and good and proper--that unless the Bible be all a dream, and there be no Holy and Almighty God, no merciful Christ in heaven, this is THE way and the only way to live? Ay, if there were no God, no Christ, no hereafter, it would be better for man to live as the Bible tells him, than to live as too many do. There would be infinitely less misery, less heart-burnings, less suffering of body and soul, if men followed Christ's example as told us in the Bible. Even if this life were all, and there were neither punishment nor reward for us after death--does not our reason tell us that if all men and women were like Christ in gentleness, wisdom, and purity, the world as long as it lasted would be a heaven? And do not your own hearts echo these thoughts at moments when they are quietest and purest and most happy too? Have you not said to yourselves--"Those Bible words are good words. After all, if I were like that, I should be happier than I am now." Ah! my friends, listen to those thoughts when they come into your hearts--they are not your own thoughts--they are the voice of One holier than you--wiser than you--One who loves you better than you love yourselves--One pleading with you, stirring you up by His Spirit, if it be but for a moment, to see the things which belong to your peace. But what can you say for yourselves, if having once had these thoughts, having once settled in your own minds that the Gospel of God is right and you are wrong, if you persist in disobeying that gospel--if you agree one minute with the inner voice, which says, "Do this and live, do this and be at peace with God and man, and your own conscience"--and then fall back the next moment into the same worldly, selfish, peevish, sense-bound, miserable life-in-death as ever? The reason, my friends, I am afraid, with most of us is, sheer folly--not want of cunning and cleverness, but want of heart--want of feeling--what Solomon calls folly (Prov. i. 22-27), stupidity of soul, when he calls on the simple souls, How long ye simple ones will you love simplicity or silliness, and the scorners delight in their scorning (delight in laughing at what is good), and fools hate knowledge--hate to think earnestly or steadily about anything--the stupidity of the ass, who is too stubborn and thick-skinned to turn out of his way for any one--or the stupidity of the swine, who cares for his food and nothing further--or worse than all, the stupidity of the ape, who cares for nothing but play and curiosity, and the vain and frivolous amusements of the moment. All these tempers are common enough, and they may be joined with cleverness enough. What beast so clever as an ape? yet what beast so foolish, so mean, so useless? But this is the fault of stupidity--it blinds our eyes to the world of spirits; it makes us forget God; it makes us see first what we can lay our hands on, and nothing more; it makes us forget that we have souls. Our glorious minds and thoughts, which should be stretching on through all eternity, are cramped down to thinking of nothing further than this little hour of earthly life. Our glorious hearts, which should be delighting in everything which is lovely, and generous, and pure, and beautiful, and God-like--ay, delighting in God Himself--are turned in upon themselves, and set upon our own gain, our own ease, our own credit. In short, our immortal souls, made in God's image, become no use to us by this stupidity--they seem for mere salt to keep our bodies from decaying. Whose work is that? The devil's. But whose _fault_ is it? Do you suppose that the devil has any right in you, any power in you, who have been washed in the waters of baptism and redeemed by Christ from the service of the devil, and signed with His Cross on your foreheads, _unless you give him power_? Not he. Men's sins open the door to the devil, and when he is in, he will soon trample down the good seed that is springing up, and stamp the mellow soil as hard as iron, so that nothing but his own seeds can grow there, and so keep off the dews of God's spirit, and the working of God's own gospel from making any impression on that hardened stupified soil. Alas! poor soul. And thy misery is double, because thou knowest not that thou art miserable; and thy misery is treble, because thou hast brought it on thyself! My friends--there is an ancient fable of the Jews, which, though it is not true, yet has a deep and holy meaning, and teaches an awful lesson. There lived, says an ancient Jewish Scribe, by the shores of the Dead Sea, a certain tribe of men, utterly given up to pleasure and covetousness, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life. To them the prophet Moses was sent, and preached to them, warning them of repentance and of judgment to come--trying to awaken their souls to high and holy thoughts, and bring them back to the thought of God and heaven. And they, poor fools, listened to Him, admired his preaching, agreed that it all sounded very good--but that he went too far--that it was too difficult--that their present way of life was very pleasant--that they saw no such great need of change, and so on, one excuse after another, till they began to be tired of Moses, and gave him to understand that he was impertinent, troublesome--that they could see nothing wise in him--nothing great; how could they? So Moses went his way, and left them to go theirs. And long after, when some travellers came by, says the fable, they found these foolish people were all changed into dumb beasts; what they had tried to be, now they really were. They had made no use of their souls, and now they had lost them; they had given themselves up to folly, and now folly had taken to her own; they had fancied, as people do every day, that this world is a great play-ground, wherein every one has to amuse himself as he likes best, or at all events a great shop and gambling-house, where the most cunning wins most of his neighbour's money; and now according to their faith it was to them. They had forgotten God and spiritual things, and now they were hid from their eyes. And these travellers found them sitting, playing antics, quarrelling for the fruits of the field--mere beasts--reaping as they had sown, and filled full with the fruit of their own devices. Only every Sabbath day, says the fable, there came over these poor wretches an awful sense of a piercing Eye watching them from above--a dim feeling that they had been something better and nobler once--a faint recollection of heavenly things which they once knew when they were little children--a blind dread of some awful unseen ruin, into which their miserable empty beast-life was swiftly and steadily sweeping them down;--and then they tried to think and could not--and tried to remember and could not--and so they sat there every Sabbath day, cowering with fear, uneasy and moaning, and half-remembered that they once had souls! My friends, my friends, are there not too many now-a-days like these poor dwellers by the Dead Sea, who seem to have lost all of God's image except their bodies? who all the week dote on the business and the pleasures of this life, going on very comfortably till they seem to have quite hardened their own souls; and now and then on Sabbath days when they come to church, and pretend to pray and worship, sit all vacant, stupid, their hearts far away, or with a sort of passing uneasiness and dim feeling that all is not right--_try to think and cannot_--_try to pray and cannot_--and, like those dwellers by the Dead Sea, once a week on Sabbath day half remember that they once had souls? So true it is, that from him that hath not, shall be taken away even that which he seemeth to have. So true it is, that the wages of sin is death; death to the soul even in this life. So true it is that why men do not believe Christ, is because they cannot hear His word. So true it is, that only the pure in heart shall see God, or love god-like men and god- like words. So true it is, that he that soweth the wind shall reap the whirlwind, and that he who _will_ not hear Christ's words, shall soon not be _able_ to hear them; that he who will not have Christ for his master, must soon be content to have the devil for his master, and for his wages, spiritual death. From which sad fate of spiritual death may the blessed Saviour, in His infinite mercy, deliver us. IV. THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE AND THE TREE OF LIFE; OR, THE FALL. "Now the serpent was more subtile than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made. And he said unto the woman, Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden? And the woman said unto the serpent, We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden: but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die. And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die. For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil. And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat."--GENESIS iii. 1-6. Here is a lesson for us all. You and I, and all men brought into the world with us a nature which fell in Adam; and, as it fell _before_ we were born, it is certain enough to fall, again and again, after we are born, in this life; ay, and unless we take care, to fall lower and lower, every day, acting Adam's sin over again, until we surely die. This is what I mean--What God said to Adam and Eve, He says to every one of us. And what the devil said to Adam and Eve, he will say to every one of us. First. God says to us, "Of all the trees of the garden thou mayest freely eat: but of the tree of knowledge of good and evil thou shalt not eat, lest thou die." Of all the trees of the garden thou mayest freely eat. God grudges you nothing good for you. He has put you into this good and pleasant world, where you will find pleasures enough, and comforts enough, to satisfy you, if you are wise; but there are things which God has forbidden you, not out of any spite or arbitrariness, but because they are bad for you; because they will hurt you if you indulge in them, and sooner or later, kill both body and soul. Now, many of those wrong things look pleasant enough, and reasonable enough, as the forbidden fruit did. Pleasant to the eyes and good for food--and to be desired to make you wise. As people grow up and go out into life, they are tempted to do many things which their parents forbid, which the Bible forbids, which the law of the land forbids, and they do not understand at first why they are forbidden any more than Adam and Eve understood why they were not to eat of the forbidden fruit. Then the devil (who is always trying to slander God to us) whispers to them, as he did to Eve, "How unreasonable! how hard on you. People say that this is wrong, and you must not do it, and yet how pleasant it must be! How much money you might get by it--how much wiser, and cleverer, and more able to help yourself you would become, if you went your own way, and did what you like. Surely God is hard on you, and grudges you pleasure. Never mind--don't be afraid. Surely you can judge best what is good for you. Surely you know your own business best. Use your own common sense and do what you like, and what you think will profit you. Are you to be a slave to old rules which your parents or the clergyman taught you?" So says the devil to every young man as he goes out in life. And to many, alas!--to many, the devil's words sound reasonable enough; they flatter our fallen nature, they flatter our pride and our self-will, and make us fancy we are going up hill, and becoming very fine and manly, and independent and knowing. "_Knowing_"! How many a young man have I seen run into sin just that he might be _knowing_; and say, "Why should I not see life for myself? Why should I not know the world, and try what is good, and how I like that, and what is bad too, and how I like that--and then choose for myself like a man, instead of being kept in like a baby?" So he says exactly what Adam and Eve said in their hearts--"I will eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil." He says in his heart, too, just what Solomon the wise said, when he, too, determined to eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge. Ay, young people, who love to see the world, and to choose for yourselves, read that Book of Ecclesiastes, the saddest book on earth, and get a golden lesson in every verse of it. See how Solomon determined to see life, from the top to the bottom of it. How he "gave his heart to know, seek, and search out by wisdom concerning all things that are done under heaven. I have seen all the works that are done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit," (Eccles. i. 13). And then, how he turned round and gave his heart to know mirth, and madness, and folly, and see whether _that_ was good for him, and, "I said of laughter, it is mad: and of mirth, what doeth it?" (Eccles. ii. 2-26). And then he gave himself to wine and revelling, and after that to riches, and pomp, and glory, and music, and the "fine arts," as we call them. "I made me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me vineyards: I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kind of fruits: I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees: I got me servants and maidens, and had servants born in my house; also I had great possessions of great and small cattle above all that were in Jerusalem before me: I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure of kings and of the provinces: I gat me men singers and women singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as musical instruments, and that of all sorts. So I was great, and increased more than all that were before me in Jerusalem: also my wisdom remained with me." And what was the end? "Then I looked on all the works that my hand had done, and on the labour that I had laboured to do: and behold all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun." Therefore, he says, that he hated all the labour he had taken under the sun, because he must leave it to the men who came after him, and found out at last, after years of labour and sorrow, trying to make himself happy with this and that, and finding no rest with any of them, that the conclusion of the whole matter was to "Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or evil" (Eccles. xii. 13). So said Solomon--and God knows, my dear friends, God knows, he said truly. Ay, and I know it to be true; and I entreat you this day, in God's name, to hear the conclusion of the whole matter. All this you will find out by eating of the tree of knowledge, and "_seeing life_," and going your own way, and falling into sin, and smarting for it, for weary years, in anxiety and perplexity, and shame, and sorrow of heart. All that you will find out thereby--all that Solomon found out thereby,--is just what you know already, and nothing more--just what you have been taught ever since you could speak. "Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man." Why buy your own experience dear, when you can get it gratis, for nothing already? Yes; a simple, godly, industrious life, doing the duty which lies nearest you, avoiding sin as you would an adder, because it is sure sooner or later to sting you, if you touch it, is the straight road, and the only road, to happiness, either in this life, or in the life to come. Pleasure and amusement, drinking and jollity, will not make you happy. Money will not make you happy. Cleverness, and cunning, and knowledge of the world will not make you happy. Scholarship and learning will not. But plain, simple righteousness, simply doing right, _will_. Do right then and be happy. Obey God's commandments, and you will find that His commandments are _Life_, and in the pathway thereof there is no death. Make up your minds to do right, to be right, to keep right by the help of God's Right and Holy Spirit, in the right road. Make up your minds whether you will go through the world in God's way, or your own way--whether you will taste what God has forbidden, and so destroy yourselves, or obey Him and live with Him in bliss. The longer you delay, the more difficult you will find it. Make up your minds now, and ask God to teach you His own heavenly wisdom which is a Tree of Life to all that lay hold on it. V. I AM. "I AM hath sent me into you."--EXODUS iii. 10. Every day I find it more and more true, that the Bible is full of good news from beginning to end. The _Gospel_--that is good news--and the best of all good news, is to be found in every book of it; perhaps if we knew how to search the Scriptures, in every chapter and verse of it, from beginning to end. For from beginning to end, from Genesis to Malachi--from the Gospel of St. Matthew to the end of the Revelation--what our Lord said of the Bible stands true: "They (the Scriptures) are they which testify of ME" (John v. 39). The whole Bible testifies, bears witness of Him, the One Unchangeable Christ, who said to Moses, "Say unto the people, I AM hath sent me unto you." Now let us think a while what that text means; for it has not to do with Moses only, but with all God's prophets, evangelists, preachers. David might have said the same to the Jews in his time, "I AM hath sent me unto you." Elijah, Isaiah, St. Matthew, St. John, St. Paul, might have said the same. And so may God's ministers now. And I, however sinful, or ignorant, or unfaithful to my duty I may be, have still a right to say, as I do now say solemnly and earnestly to you, "I AM hath sent me unto you" this day. But what do I mean by that? That ought to depend on what Moses meant by it. Moses meant what God meant, and unless I mean the same thing I must mean something wrong. And this is what I think it does mean: First. I AM--the Lord Jesus Christ told Moses that his name was I AM. Now you perhaps think that this is but a very common place name, for every one can say of himself--I am--and it may seem strange that God should have chosen for His own especial name, words which you and I might have chosen for ourselves just as well. I daresay you think that you may fairly say "_you are_," and that I can say fairly that "I am." And yet it is not so. If I say "I am," I say what is not true of me. I must say "I am something--I am a man, I am bad, or I am good, or I am an Englishman, I am a soldier, I am a sailor, I am a clergyman"--and then I shall say what is true of me. But God alone can say "I AM" without saying anything more. And why? Because God alone _is_. Everybody and everything else in the world _becomes_: but God _is_. We are all becoming something from our birth to our death--changing continually and becoming something different from what we were a minute before; first of all we were created and made, _and so became men_; and since that we have been every moment changing, becoming older, becoming wiser, or alas! foolisher; becoming stronger or weaker; becoming better or worse. Even our bodies are changing and becoming different day by day. But God never changes or becomes anything different from what He is now. What He is, that He was, and ever will be. God does not even become older. This may seem very strange, but it is true: for God made Time, God made the years; and once there were no years to count by, no years at all. Remember how long had God Himself been, before He made Time, when there was no Time to pass over? Remember always that God must have created Time. If God did not create Time, no one else did; for there is, as the Athanasian Creed says, "One uncreated and One eternal," even God who made Time as well as all things else. Am I puzzling you? What I want to do is to make you understand that God's life is quite utterly different from our life, or any way of living and being which we can fancy or think of; lest you make to yourselves the likeness of anything in heaven above or of the earth beneath, and think that God is like that and so worship it, and have other gods beside the true God, and so break the first and second commandments, as thousands do who fancy themselves good Protestants, and hate Popery and idolatry, and yet worship a very different sort of god from the "I AM," who sent Moses to the children of Israel. Remember then this at least, that God was before all things, and all worlds, and all Time; so that there was a time when there were no worlds, and a time when there was no Time--nothing but God alone, absolute, eternal, neither made nor created, the same that He is now and will be for ever. When I say "God is," that is a very different thing from God Himself saying, "I AM." A different thing? Oh! my friends, here is the root of the whole Gospel, the root of all our hope for this world and for the world to come--for ourselves, for our own future, and the future of all the world. Do you not see how? Then I will try to explain. Many heathen men have known that there was one eternal God, and that _God is_. But they did not know that God Himself had said so; and that made them anxious, puzzled, almost desperate, so that the wiser they were, the unhappier they were. For what use is it merely knowing that "_God is_"? The question for poor human creatures is, "But what sort of a being is God? Is He far off? Millions of miles from this earth? Does He care nothing about us? Does He let the world go its own way right or wrong? Is He proud and careless? A self-glorifying Deity whose mercy is _not_ over all His works, or even over any of them? Or does He care for us? Does He see us? Will He speak to us? Has He ever spoken to any one? Has He ever told any one about Himself?" _There is the question_--the question of all questions. And if a man once begins thinking about his own soul, and this world, and God,--till he gets that question answered, he can have no comfort about himself or the world, or anything--till in fact he knows whether God has ever spoken to men or not. And the glory of the Bible, the power of God revealed in the Bible, is, that it answers the question, and says, "God _does_ care for men, God _does_ see men, God is not far off from any one of us." Ay, God speaks to men--God spoke to Moses and said, not "God is" but "I AM." God in sundry times and in divers manners _spoke_ to our fathers by the Prophets and said "I AM." But more--Moses said, "I AM hath sent me." God does not merely love us, and yet leave us to ourselves. He sends after us. He sends to us. In old times He sent prophets and wise men one after the other to preach repentance and righteousness, and to teach men all that was good for them; and when men would not listen to them, but shut their ears to them and drove them out, killing some and beating some, God was so determined to send to men, so unwearied, so patient, so earnest, so loving still, that He said, "I will send now my own Son, surely they will hear Him." Yes, my friends, this is the I AM. This is God--this is our God--this is our Heavenly Father; not a proud and selfish Being, who looks down haughtily from afar off on all the misery and ignorance of the world, but as a wise man of old said, "A most merciful God, a revealer of secrets, who showeth to man the things which he knew not." This is our God--not a tyrant, but a Deliverer--not a condemning God, but a saving God, who wills that none should perish, who sends to seek and to save those who are lost, who sends His sun to shine on the just and the unjust, and is good to the unthankful and the evil. A God who so loved the world which He had made, in spite of all its sin and follies, that He spared not His only begotten Son, but freely gave Him for it. A God who sits on His throne for ever judging right, and ministering true judgment among the people, who from His throne beholds all those who dwell upon the earth, and fashions the hearts of them, and understandeth all their works. A God who comes out of His place to visit the wrong done on the earth, and be a refuge for the oppressed, and a help in time of trouble, to help the fatherless and poor unto their right, that the men of this world be no more exalted against them. This is _our God_. This is our Father--always condescending, always patient, always loving, always just. And always active, always working to _do good_ to all his creatures, like that exact pattern and copy of Himself, the Lord Jesus Christ, who said, "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work." (John v. 17). But again: "I AM hath sent me unto _you_." Unto whom? Who was Moses sent to? To the Children of Israel in Egypt. And what sort of people were they? Were they wise and learned? On the contrary they were stupid, ignorant, and brutish. Were they pious and godly? On the contrary they were worshipping the foolish idols of the Egyptians--so fond of idolatry that they must needs make a golden calf and worship it. Were they respectable and cleanly livers? Were they teachable and obedient? On the contrary, they were profligate, stiff- necked, murmurers, disobedient, unwilling to trust God's goodness, though He had shown them all those glorious signs and wonders for their sakes, and brought them out of Egypt with a mighty hand and a stretched-out arm. Were they high-spirited and brave? On the contrary, they were mean-spirited and cowards, murmuring against Moses and against God, if anything went wrong, for setting them free; ready to go back and be slaves to the Egyptians rather than face danger and fight; looking back and longing after the flesh-pots of Egypt, where they eat bread to the full, and willing to be slaves again and have all their men children drowned in the river, and themselves put to hard labour in the brick kilns, if they could only fill their stomachs. And even at best when Moses had brought them to the very edge of that rich land of Canaan, which God had promised them, they were afraid to go into it, and win it for themselves; and God had to send them back again, to wander forty years in the wilderness, till all that cowardly, base, first generation, who came up out of Egypt was dead, and a new generation had grown up, made brave and hardy by their long training in the deserts, and taught to trust and obey God from their youth; and so able and willing to conquer the good land which God had promised them. Altogether the Children of Israel, to whom God sent Moses, were plainly an ignorant, brutish, cowardly set of people, fallen lower far than the negroes of South America, fit to be slaves and nothing better. Then why did God take such trouble for them? Why did God care for them, and help them, and work wonders for them? Why? Exactly because they _were_ so bad. He that hath ears to hear let him hear, and understand by this example of all examples what manner of God our God is. Just because they were so bad, His goodness yearned over them all the more, and longed to make them good. Just because they were so unclean and brutish His holiness longed all the more to cleanse them. Because they were so stupid and ignorant, His wisdom longed to make them wise. Because they were so miserable, His pity yearned over them, as a father over a child fallen into danger. Because they were sick, they had all the more need of a physician. Because they were lost, there was all the more reason for seeking and saving them. Because they were utterly weak, God desired all the more to put His strength into them, that His strength might be made perfect in weakness. True, God's goodness seemed of little use to too many of them. Their history during the next forty years was a very sad one. With many of them God was not well pleased, the Bible tells us, and their carcases fell in the Wilderness. A sad forty years they were for Moses also, as he says in that sad and glorious Psalm of his (Ps. xc. 7, 8): "We consume away in thy displeasure, and are afraid of thy wrathful indignation. Thou hast set our misdeeds before us, our secret sins in the light of thy countenance, for when Thou art angry our days are gone: we bring our years to an end as a tale that is told." But that was all their own fault. God never left them for all those forty years. He fed them with manna in the wilderness, and the angel of His presence preserved them. And now, my friends, remember what I have said of God in this text, "I AM hath sent me unto you," and see how it preaches to you an almighty, unchangeable Father, whose mercy is over all His works, full of love and care for all, longing and labouring for ever by His Son Jesus Christ to raise us from the death of sin (which is the only death we need to be afraid of) to the life of righteousness--the only life worth living here, the only life which we can live beyond the grave! A just God, a merciful God, a patient God, a generous God, a gracious God; a God whose glory is to save--a God who is utterly worthy of our love and respect--a God whom we can trust--a God whom it is worth while to obey--a God who deserves our thanks from our cradle to our grave--a God to whom we ought honestly, and from the bottom of our hearts to say, now and for ever: "We worship Thee, we bless Thee, we praise Thee, we magnify Thee, we give thanks to Thee for Thy great glory, oh! Lord God, Heavenly King, God the Father Almighty." VI. THE ENGLISHMAN TRAINED BY TOIL. "All the commandments which I command thee this day shall ye observe to do, that ye may live, and multiply, and go in and possess the land which the Lord sware unto your fathers. And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee these forty years in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep his commandments, or no. And he humbled thee, and suffered thee to hunger, and fed thee with manna, which thou knewest not, neither did thy fathers know; that he might make thee know that man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord doth man live. . . . Thou shall also consider in thine heart that, as a man chasteneth his son, so the Lord thy God chasteneth thee."--DEUT. viii. 1, 2, 3, 5. As God led the Jews through the wilderness, so He leads us through the journey of life. As God called on the Jews to rejoice in Him, and to bless Him for going with them, and teaching and training them by dangers and sorrows; so He calls on us to lift up our hearts and bless Him for teaching and training us in the battle of life. But some of you may say, "Why do you ask us to thank God for lessons which we have bought by labour and sorrow? Are not our sorrows more than our joys? Our labour far heavier than our rest can be sweet? You tell us to be joyful and thank God for His mercies; but why all this toil? Why must we work on, and on, and on, all our days, in weariness and anxiety? Why must we only toil, toil, till we die, and lie down, fairly conquered and worn out, on that stern mother earth, from whom we have been wringing our paltry livelihood from our boyhood to our grave? What is our life but labour and sorrow?" Are not some of you thinking in this way to-day? Have I not guessed the hearts of some of you at least? And is not this a strange way of making you joyful to remind you of these thoughts? My friends, be sure I only remind you of these sad thoughts, because they are _true_ thoughts, because God meant you to bear them and _face_ them like men; because you must have these thoughts, and let them make you sad, and make up your minds to face them again and again, before even you can thank God really like redeemed, immortal Christian men and women. And believe me, I would not mention these sad thoughts, if I had not a remedy for them. If I had not a message to you from the living God, and Christ the King of the earth, whereby I tell you now to rejoice and give thanks to Him in spite of all your labour and sorrow. Ay more, I say, Rejoice and give thanks _on account_ of all your labour and sorrow, and count it all _joy_ when ye fall into divers tribulations. It is true, my friends, we are a hard working and a somewhat sad race of men, we English. The life of the working man is labour and sorrow, and so is the life of the scholar, and so is the life of even many a rich man. All things are full of labour in England. Man cannot utter it, the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with hearing; we are the wisest of all nations; and yet as Solomon says, behold in much wisdom is much grief; and in increasing knowledge, we still increase sorrow. Truly, I may say of us Englishmen, as Paul said of the Christians of his time, that if Christ be not raised from the dead, and if in this life _only_ we have hope in Him, we are of all nations one of the most unhappy. When we look at all the hundreds of thousands pent up in our great cities among filth and smoke, toiling in factories, in workshops, in dark mines under ground--when we think of the soldier on the march under the sultry sun of India, the sailor on the stormy sea--when we think of this our bleak inclement climate, our five months of winter every year;--no man's food and clothing to be gained but by bitter toil, either of himself or of others--and then when we compare our lot with that of the dwellers in hot countries, in India and in Africa, and the islands of the South Seas, where men live with no care, no labour--where clothes and fire are never needed--where every tree bears delicious food, and man lives in perpetual summer, in careless health and beauty, among continual mirth and ease, like the birds which know no care--then it seems at moments as if God had been unfair in giving so much more to the savage than He has to us, of the blessings of this earthly life; and we are led to long that our lot was cast in those fruitful and delicious climates of the South, in a continual paradise of mirth and plenty, and beauty and sunshine. But no, my friends, we are more blest than the careless Indian who never knows what labour is; his life is but the life of the butterfly, which flutters from flower to flower and sports in the sunshine, and sucks sweets for a brief hour, and then perishes without hope. His life is a dream, he sees no heaven before him, he knows no glorious God, with the sight of whom he is to be blest for ever. His body may be in perpetual ease, and health, and beauty for a few short years, but what care has he for his undying spirit, that is blind and dead within him? But to bring a man's soul to life, to train and educate a man's soul that it may go on from strength to strength, and glory to glory till it appears in the presence of God--that wants a stern and a severe training of sorrow and labour, of which the poor, pampered, luxurious savage knows nothing. This is why Christ brought our forefathers into this bleak, cold, northern land, and forced them to gain their bread by the sweat of their brows, and the sorrows of their hearts, and to keep their land by many wars. Now this is the reason of our carefulness, of our many troubles, that God is educating and training us English; that He will not have us be savages, but Christian citizens; He will have us not merely happy, but _blessed_ through all eternity. He will not have us to be like the poor Indians, slaves to our flesh and our appetites--slaves to the pleasant things around us; but He will have us fill the earth and subdue it; He will have England the light of the nations--and Englishmen preach freedom, and wisdom, and prudence, and the gospel of Jesus Christ to all the nations of the earth. Therefore Christ afflicts us because He loves us, because whom He loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth. Because He has ordained England to preach the Cross, therefore He will have England bear the cross. It has often struck me, my friends, as a beautiful and a deep sign, a blessed ordinance of the great and wise God, that the flag of England, and especially the flag of our navy--the flag which is loved and reverenced through all the world, as the bringer of free communion between nation and nation, the bringer of order and equal justice and holy freedom, and the divine majesty of law, and the light of the blessed gospel wherever it goes; that this flag, I say, should be the red-cross flag, the flag of the Cross of Christ--a double sign--a sign to all men that we are a Christian nation, a gospel people; and a sign, too, to ourselves, that we are meant to bear Christ's cross--to bear the afflictions which He lays upon us--to be made perfect through sufferings, to crucify the flesh with its affections and lusts, that we may be brave and self-denying; going forth in Christ's strength, remembering that it is He who gives us power to get wealth; that we ought to fight His battles, that we ought to spread His name at home and abroad; and rejoice in every sorrow, which teaches us more and more the blessed meaning of His saving name, and the share which we have in it. I have said that we are a melancholy people. Foreigners all say of us, that we are the saddest of all people; that when they come to England, they are struck with our silence, and gloominess, and careworn faces, and our want of merriment and cheerfulness. And yet, with all this, we are the greatest of nations at this day--the strongest and the most industrious and the wisest. The gospel of Jesus Christ is preached oftener, and more simply, and more fully here in England than in any nation, and I dare to say it, that in spite of all our sins, there are as many or more of God's true saints, more holy men and women among English people at this moment, than among any people of the earth. And why? because there are so many among us who have hope in Christ beyond this life, who look for everlasting salvation through all eternity to His name. If in this life only we have hope in Christ, truly of all people we should be most miserable; but Christ is risen from the dead, and He has ascended up on high, and led captivity captive, and received gifts for men. He sits even now at God's right hand praying for us. To Him all power is given in heaven and earth, and He is our covenant God and Saviour, He is our King. He is ours; and He will have us put on His likeness, and with Him be made perfect through sufferings--_through sufferings_, for sorrow is the gate of life. Through much tribulation we enter into the kingdom of God; without weary pain none of us is born into the world; without weary labour not a harvest in England is grown and reaped; without weary thought, and teaching, and correction, not a child among us is educated to be a man; without weary thought and weary labour, not one of us can do his duty in that station of life to which Christ has called him. Not without weary struggles and arguings and contentions, by martyrdoms, by desperate wars, our forefathers won for us our religion, our freedom and our laws, which make England the wonder of the world. This is the great law of our life--to be made perfect through sufferings, as our Lord and Master was before us. He has dealt with us, as my text tells you He dealt with the Jews, His chosen people of old, as He deals with every soul of man on whom He sets His love. "All the commandments which I command thee this day shall ye observe to do, that ye may live, and multiply, and go in and possess the land which the Lord sware unto your fathers. And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee these forty years in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep His commandments, or no. And He humbled thee, and suffered thee to hunger, and fed thee with manna, which thou knewest not, neither did thy fathers know; that He might make thee know that man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord doth man live . . . Thou shalt also consider in thine heart, that, as a man chasteneth his son, so the Lord thy God chasteneth thee." For, believe me, my friends, whatever nation or whatever man Christ chooses to be His own, and to be holy and noble and glorious with Him, He makes them perfect through suffering. First, He stirs up in them strange longings after what is great and good. He makes them hunger and thirst after righteousness, and then He lets them see how nothing on this earth, nothing beautiful or nothing pleasant which they can get or invent for themselves will satisfy; and so He teaches them to look to Him, to look for peace and salvation from heaven and not from earth. Then He leads them, as He led the Jews of old, through the wilderness and through the sea, through strange afflictions, through poverty, and war, and labour, that they may learn to know that He is leading them and not themselves; that they may learn to trust not in themselves, but in Him; not in their own strength: but in the bread which cometh down from heaven; not in their own courage, but in Him; and just when all seems most hopeless, He makes one of them chase a thousand, and by strange and unexpected providences, and the courage which a just cause inspires, brings His people triumphant through temptation and danger, and puts to flight the armies of the heathen, and the inventions of the evil fiend, and glorifies His name in His chosen people. So He calls out in the heart of men and of the heart of nations, the two great twin virtues, which always go hand in hand--Faith in God, and Faith in themselves. He lets them feel themselves foolish that they may learn how to be wise in His wisdom. He lets them find themselves weak that they may learn how to be strong in His strength. Then sometimes He lets them follow their own devices and be filled with the fruits of their own inventions. He lets their sinful hearts have free course down into the depths of idolatry and covetousness, and filthy pleasure and mad self- conceit, that they may learn to know the bitter fruit that springs from the accursed root of sin, and come back to Him in shame and repentance, entreating Him to inform their thoughts, and guide their wills, and gather them to Him as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wing, that they may never more wander from Him, their life, their light, and their Saviour. Then, sometimes, if His children forsake His laws and break His covenant, He visits their offences with the rod, and their sin with the stripes of the children of men. That is, He punishes them as He punishes the heathen, if they sin as the heathen sin. He lets loose upon them His wrath, war, disease, or scarcity, that He may drive them back to Him. And all the while He will have them _labour_. He will make them try their strength, and use their strength, and improve their strength of soul and body. By making them labour, Christ teaches His people industry, order, self-command, self-denial, patience, courage, endurance, foresight, thoughtfulness, earnestness. All these blessed virtues come out of holy labour; by working in welldoing we learn lessons which the savage among his delicious fruits and flowers, in his life of golden ease, and luxurious laziness, can never learn. And all this Christ teaches us because He loves us, because He would have us perfect. His love is unchangeable. As He swore by Himself that He would never fail David, so He has sworn that He will never fail any one of His Churches, or any one of us. Lo, said He, I am with you always, even to the end of the world. Nothing shall separate us from the love of Christ; neither battle nor famine, nor anything else in heaven or earth. All He wants is to educate us, because He loves us. He doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men. And because He is a God of love, He proves His love to us every now and then by blessing us, as well as by correcting us; else our spirits would fail before Him, and the souls which He has made. When He sees our adversity, He hears our complaint, He thinks upon His covenant and pities us, according to the multitude of His mercies. "A fruitful land maketh He barren for the wickedness of them that dwell therein, yet when they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, He delivereth them out of their distress. He maketh the wilderness standing water, and water springs of dry ground, and there He setteth the hungry that they may build them a city, that they may sow their lands and plant vineyards, to yield them fruits of increase. He blesseth them, so that they multiply exceedingly, and suffereth not their cattle to decrease; and again, when they are diminished or brought low through affliction, through any plague or trouble, though He suffer them to be evil entreated by tyrants, and let them wander out of the way in the wilderness; yet helpeth He the poor out of misery, and maketh them households like a flock of sheep." (Ps. cvii.) O my friends, have not these words ever been wonderfully fulfilled to some of you! Then see how true it is that God will not always be chiding, neither keepeth He His anger for ever; but He knoweth our frame, He remembereth that we are but dust, and like as a father pitieth his children, so does He pity those who fear Him; and oftentimes, too, in His great condescension, those who fear Him not. My friends, I have been trying in this sermon to make you feel that you are under God's guidance, that His providence is trying to train and educate you. I have told you that there is a blessed use and meaning in your very sorrows, and in this life of continual toil which God has appointed for you; I have told you that you ought to thank God for those sorrows: how much more then ought you to thank Him for your joys. If you should thank Him for want, surely you should thank Him for plenty. O thank Him earnestly--not only with your lips, but in your lives. If you believe that He has redeemed you with His precious blood, show your thankfulness by living as redeemed men, holy to God--who are not your own, but bought with a price; therefore show forth God's glory, the power of His grace in your bodies and your spirits which are His. If you feel that it is a noble thing to be an Englishman--especially an English soldier or an English sailor--a noble and honourable privilege to be allowed to do your duty in the noblest nation and the noblest church which the world ever saw--then live as Englishmen in covenant with God; faithful to Him who has redeemed you and washed you from your sins in His own blood. Do you be faithful and obedient to Christ's Spirit, and He will be faithful to those promises of His. Though a thousand fall at thy right hand, yet the evil shall not come nigh thee. Blessed are all they that fear the Lord and walk in His ways. For thou shalt eat the labours of thine hand. O well art thou and happy shalt thou be. The Lord out of heaven shall so bless thee, that thou shalt see England in prosperity all thy life long. Yea, thou shalt see thy children's children, and peace upon thy native land. Oh, remember how God fulfilled that promise to England seventy years ago, when the French swept in fire and slaughter, and horrors worse than either, over almost every nation in Europe, while England remained safe in peace and plenty, and an enemy never set foot on God's chosen English soil. Remember the French war, and our salvation in it, and then believe and take comfort. Trust in the Lord and be doing good; dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. VII. HIGHER OR LOWER: WHICH SHALL WIN? "Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh. For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye through the spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live. For as many as are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of God. For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father."--ROMANS viii. 12-15. Let us try to understand these words. They are of quite infinite importance to us all. We shall all agree, all of us at least who have thought at all about right and wrong, and tried to do right and avoid wrong--that there goes on in us, at times, a strange struggle. We wish to do a right thing, and at the very same time long to do a wrong one. We are pulled, as it were, two different ways by two different feelings, feel as if we were two men at once, a better man and a worse man struggling for the mastery. One may conquer, or the other. We may be like the confirmed drunkard who cannot help draining off his liquor, though he knows that it is going to kill him; or we may be like the man who conquers his love for drink, and puts the liquor away, because he knows that he ought not to take it. We know too well, many of us, how painful this inward struggle is, between our better selves, and our worse selves. How discontented with ourselves it makes us, how ashamed of ourselves, how angry with ourselves. We all understand too well--or ought to understand, St. Paul's words: How often the good which he wished to do, he did not do, but the evil which he did not wish to do, he did. How he delighted in the law of God in his inward man; but he found another law in him, in his body, warring against the law of his mind--that is his conscience and reason, and making a slave of him till he was ready at times to cry, "Oh wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" We can understand too, surely the famous parable of Plato, the greatest of heathen philosophers, who says, that the soul of man is like a chariot, guided by a man's will, but drawn by two horses. The one horse he says is white, beautiful and noble, well-broken and winged, too, always trying to rise and fly upward with the chariot toward heaven. But the other horse is black, evil, and unmanageable, always trying to rush downward, and drag the chariot and the driver into hell. Ah my friends, that is but too true a picture of most of us, and God grant that in our souls the better horse may win, that our nobler and purer desires may lift us up, and leave behind those lower and fouler desires which try to drag us down. But to drag us down whither? To hell at last, says Plato the heathen. To destruction and death in the meanwhile, says St. Paul. Now in the text St. Paul explains this struggle--this continual war which goes on within us. He says that there are two parts in us--the flesh and the spirit--and that the flesh lusts, that is, longs and struggles to have its own way against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh. First, there is a flesh in us--that is, a carnal animal nature. Of that there can be no doubt: we are animals, we come into the world as animals do--eat, drink, sleep as they do--have the same passions as they have--and our carnal mortal bodies die at last, exactly as the animals die. But are we nothing more? God forbid. St. Paul tells us that we are something more--and our own conscience and reason tell us that we are something more. We know that to be a man, we must be something more than an animal--a mere brute--for when we call any one a brute, what do we mean? That he has lost his humanity, his sense of justice, mercy, and decency, and given himself up to his flesh--his animal nature, till the _man_ in him is dead, and only the _brute_ remains. Mind, I do not say that we are right in calling any human being a brute, for no one, I believe, is sunk so low, but there is some spark of humanity, some spark of what St. Paul calls "the spirit," left in him, which may be fanned into a flame and conquer, and raise and save the man at last--unless he be a mere idiot--or that most unhappy and brutal of all beings, a confirmed drunkard. But our giving way to the same selfish shameless passions, which we see in the lower animals, is letting the "brute" in us conquer, is giving way to the works of the flesh. The shameless and profligate person gives way to the "brute" within him--the man who beats his wife--or ill-treats his children--or in any wise tyrannises over those who are weaker than himself, he too gives way to the "brute" within him. He who grudges, envies, tries to aggrandise himself at his neighbour's expense--he too gives way to the "brute" within him, and puts on the likeness of the dog which snatches and snarls over his bone. He who spends his life in cunning plots and mean tricks, stealthy, crafty, silent, false, he gives way to the "brute" in him, just as much as the fox or ferret. And those, let me say, who without giving way to those grosser vices, let their minds be swallowed up with vanity, love of admiration, always longing to be seen and looked at, and wondering what folks will say of them, they too give way to the flesh, and lower themselves to the likeness of animals. As vain as a peacock, says the old proverb. And shame it is to any human being so far to forget his true humanity, as to have that said of him. And what shall we say of them who like the swine live only for eating and drinking, and enjoyment? Or what of those who like the butterflies spend all their time in frivolous amusement, fluttering in the sunshine, silly and helpless, without a sense of duty or usefulness, without forethought for the coming frosts of winter, against which their gay feathers would be no protection? Do not all these in some way or other give way to the animal within them, and live after the flesh? And do they not, all of them, of the flesh, reap corruption, and fulfil St. Paul's words, "If ye live after the flesh ye shall die?" But some one will say--"Die?--of course we shall all die--good and bad alike." Is it so, my friends? Then why does our Lord say, "He that liveth and believeth in me shall never die?" And why does St. Paul say, "If ye through the spirit do mortify," that is crush, and as it were kill, "the deeds of the body," all those low animal passions and vices, "ye shall live." Let us look at the text again. "If ye live after the flesh ye shall die." If you give way to those animal passions and vices--low and cruel--or even merely selfish and frivolous, you shall die; not merely your bodies--they will die in any case--the animals do--for animals they are, and as animals die they must. But over and above that--you yourselves shall die--your character will die, your manhood or your womanhood will die, your immortal soul will die. The likeness of God in you will die. Oh, my friends, there is a second death to which that first death of the body is a mere trivial and harmless accident--the death of sin which kills the true man and true woman within you. And that second death may begin in this life, and if it be not stopped and cured in time, may go on for ever. The black horse of which I spoke just now, may get the mastery and drag us down, down, into bogs out of which we can never rise--over cliffs which we can never climb again--down lower and lower--more and more foolish, more and more reckless, more and more base, more and more wretched. And then there will be no more use in saying, "The Lord have mercy on my soul," for we shall have no soul left to have mercy on. This is the dark side of the matter--a very dark one: but it has to be spoken of, because it is true; and what is more, it comes true only too often in this world. God grant, my dear friends, that it may not come true of any of you. But there is also a bright side to the matter--and on that I will speak now, in order that this sermon may end, as such gospel sermons surely should end, not with threats and fear, but with hope and comfort. "If ye through the spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live." If you will be true to your better selves, if you will listen to, and obey the spirit of God, when He puts into your hearts good desires, and makes you long to be just and true, pure and sober, kind and useful. If you will cast away and trample under foot animal passions, low vices, you shall live. _You_ shall live. Your very soul and self shall live, and live for ever. Your humanity, your human nature shall live. All that is humane in you shall live. All that is merciful and kind in you, all that is pure and graceful, all that is noble and generous, all that is useful. All in you that is pleasant to yourselves shall live. All in you that is pleasant to your neighbours. All in you that is pleasant to God shall live. In one word, all in you that is like Christ--all in you that is like God--all in you that is spirit and not flesh, shall live, and live for ever. So it must be, for what says St. Paul? "As many as are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of God." Those who let the spirit of God lead them upward instead of letting their own animal nature drag them downward, they are the sons of God. And how can a son of God perish? How can that which is like God and like Christ perish? How can he perish, who like Christ is full of the fruits of the spirit? of love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance? The world did not give them to him, and the world cannot take them from him. They were not bestowed on him at his bodily birth--neither shall they be taken from him at his bodily death--for those blessed fruits of the spirit belong neither to the flesh nor to the world, but to Christ's spirit, and to heaven--to that heaven in which they dwell before the throne of God--yea, rather in the mind of God Himself, the eternal forms of the truth, the beauty, the goodness--which were before all worlds--and shall be after all worlds have passed away. Oh! choose my friends, especially you who are young and entering into life. Remember the parable of the old heathen, about the two horses who draw your soul. Choose in time whether the better horse shall win, or the worse; whether your better self, or your worse, the Spirit of God or your own flesh, shall be your master--whether you will rise step by step to heaven, or sink step by step to death and hell? And let no one tell you. That is not the question. That is not what we care about. We know we shall do a great many wrong things before we die. Every one does that; but we hope we shall be able to make our peace with God before we die, and so be forgiven at last. My dear friends, that kind of religion has done more harm than most kinds of _irreligion_. It tells you to take your chance of beginning at the end--that is just before you die. Common sense tells you that the only way to get to the end, is by beginning at the beginning, which is _now_. Now is the accepted time. _Now_ is the day of salvation, and you are accepted now, already, long ago. What do you or any man want with making your peace with God? You are at peace with God already. He has made His peace with you. An infinitely better peace than any priest or preacher can make for you. _You are God's child_. He looks down on you with boundless love. The great heart of Christ, your King, your Redeemer, your elder brother, yearns over you with boundless longing to draw you up to Him, that you may be noble as He is noble, pure as He is pure, loving as He is loving, just as He is just. Try to be that. God will at the last day take you as He finds you. Let Him find you such as _that_--walking not after the flesh, but after the Spirit; and then, and then only, there will be no condemnation for you, for you will be in Christ Jesus. Do not--do not talk about making your peace with God some day--like a naughty child playing truant till the last moment, and hoping that the schoolmaster may forget to punish it. No, I trust you have received the Spirit. If you have, then look facts in the face. I trust that none of you have received the Spirit of bondage, which is slavery again unto fear. If you have God's Spirit you will see who you are, and where you are, and act accordingly--you will see that you _are_ God's children, who are meant to be educated by the Son of God, and led by the Spirit of God, and raised day by day, year by year, from the death of sin, to the life of righteousness, from the likeness of the brute animal, to the likeness of Christ, the Son of Man! VIII. ST. PETER; OR, TRUE COURAGE. "Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were unlearned and ignorant men, they marvelled; and they took knowledge of them, that they had been with Jesus. And they called them, and commanded them not to speak at all nor teach in the name of Jesus. But Peter and John answered and said unto them, Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye."--ACTS iv. 13, 18, 19. I think that the quality, the grace of God, which St. Peter's character and story specially forces on our notice is courage--the true courage which comes by faith. The courage which comes by faith, I say. There is a courage which does not come by faith. There is a brute courage which comes from hardness of heart; from obstinacy, or anger, or stupidity, which does not see danger, or does not feel pain. That is the courage of the brute. One does not blame it or call it wrong. It is good in its place, as all natural things are which God has made. It is good enough for the brute; but it is not good enough for man. You cannot trust it in man. And the more a man is what a man should be, the less he can trust it. The more mind and understanding a man has, so as to be able to foresee danger and measure it, the more chance there is of his brute courage giving way. The more feeling a man has, the more keen he is to feel pain of body, or pain of mind, such as shame, loneliness, the dislike of ridicule, and the contempt of his fellow-men; in a word, the more of a man he is, the more chance there is of his brute courage breaking down, just when he wants it more to keep him up, and leaving him to play the coward and come to shame. Yes; to go through with a difficult or dangerous undertaking a man wants more than brute courage. He wants spiritual courage, the courage which comes by faith. He needs to have faith in what he is doing to be certain that he is doing his duty--to be certain that he is in the right. To give one example. Look at the class of men who in all England in times of peace undergo the most fearful dangers; who know not at what hour of any night they may not be called up to the most serious and hard labour and responsibility, with the chance of a horrible and torturing death. I mean the firemen of our great cities, than whom there are no steadier, braver, nobler-hearted men. Not a week passes without one or more of those firemen, in trying to save life and property, doing things which are altogether heroic. What do you fancy keeps them up to their work? High pay? The amusement and excitement of the fires? The vanity of being praised for their courage? My friends, those would be but weak and paltry motives, which would not keep a man's heart calm and his head clear under such responsibility and danger as theirs. No; it is the sense of duty. The knowledge that they are doing a good and a noble work in saving the lives of human beings and the wealth of the nation--the knowledge that they are in God's hands, and that no evil can happen to him who is doing right--that to him even death at his post is not a loss, but a gain. In short, faith in God, more or less clear, is what gives those men their strong and quiet courage. God grant that you and I, if ever we have dangerous work to do, may get true courage from the same fountain of ghostly strength. Yes; it is the courage which comes by faith which makes truly brave men, men like St. Peter and St. John, who can say, "If I am right, God is on my side, I will not fear what men can do unto me." "I will not fear," said David, "though the earth be moved, and the mountains carried into the midst of the sea." The just man who holds firm to his duty will not, says a wise old writer, "be shaken from his solid mind by the rage of the mob bidding him do base things, or the frown of the tyrant who persecutes him. Though the world were to crumble to pieces round him, its ruins would strike him without making him tremble." Such courage has made men, shut up in prison for long weary years for doing what was right, endure manfully for the sake of some great cause, and say-- "Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage, Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage. If I have freedom in my thought, And in my soul am free, Angels alone that soar above Enjoy such liberty." Yes; settle it in your hearts, all of you. There is but one thing you have to fear in heaven or earth--being untrue to your better selves, and therefore untrue to God. If you will not do the thing you know to be right, and say the thing you know to be true, then indeed you are weak. You are a coward, and sin against God. And you will suffer the penalty of your cowardice. You desert God, and therefore you cannot expect Him to stand by you. But who will harm you if you be followers of that which is right? What does David say:--"Lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle? who shall dwell in thy holy hill? He that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart. He that backbiteth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbour, nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbour. In whose eyes a vile person is contemned; but he honoureth them that fear the Lord. He that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not. He that putteth not out his money to usury, nor taketh reward against the innocent. He that doeth these things shall never be moved."--Psalm xv. 1-5. Yes, my friends, there is a tabernacle of God in which, even in this life, He will hide us from strife. There is a hill of God in which, even in the midst of danger, and labour, and anxiety, we may rest both day and night--even Jesus Christ, the Rock of Ages--He who is the righteousness itself, the truth itself. And whosoever does righteousness and speaks truth, dwells in Christ in this life, as well as in the life to come. And Christ will give him courage to strengthen him by His Holy Spirit, to stand in the evil day, the day of danger, if it shall come--and having done all to stand. Pray you then for the Spirit of Faith to believe really in God, and for the spirit of ghostly strength to obey God honestly. No man ever asked honestly for that Spirit but what he gained it at last. And no man ever gained it but what he found the truth of St. Peter's own words--"Who will harm you, if you be followers of what is good?" IX. THE STORY OF JOSEPH. "I fear God." GENESIS xlii. 18. Did it ever seem remarkable to you, as it has seemed to me, how many chapters of the Bible are taken up with the history of Joseph--a young man who, on the most memorable occasion in his life, said "I fear God," and had no other argument to use? Thirteen chapters of the book of Genesis are mainly devoted to the tale of this one young man. Doubtless his father Jacob's going down into Egypt, was one of the most important events in the history of the Jews: we might expect, therefore, to hear much about it. But what need was there to spend four chapters at least in detailing Joseph's meeting with his brethren, even to minute accounts of the speeches on both sides? Those who will may suppose that this is the effect of mere chance. Let us have no such fancy. If we believe that a Divine Providence watched over the composition of those old Scriptures; if we believe that they were meant to teach, not only the Jews but all mankind; if we believe that they reveal, not merely some special God in whom the Jews believed, but the true and only God, Maker of heaven and earth; if we believe, with St. Paul, that every book of the Old Testament is inspired by God, and profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works--if we believe this, I say, it must be worth our while to look carefully and reverently at a story which takes up so large a part of the Bible, and expect to find in it something which may help to make _us_ perfect, and thoroughly furnish _us_ unto all good works. Now, surely when we look at this history of Joseph, we ought to see at the first glance that it is not merely a story about a young man, but about the common human relations--the ties which bind any and every man to other human beings round him. For is it not a story about a brother and brothers? about a son and a father, about a master and a servant? about a husband and a wife? about a subject and a sovereign? and how they all behaved to each other--some well and some ill--in these relations? Surely it is so, and surely this is why the story of Joseph has been always so popular among innocent children and plain honest folk of all kinds; because it is so simply human and humane; and therefore it taught them far more than they could learn from many a lofty, or seemingly lofty, book of devotion, when it spoke to them of the very duties they had to fulfil, and the very temptations they had to fight against, as members of a family or as members of society. "One touch of Nature (says the poet) makes the whole world kin;" and the touches of nature in this story of Joseph make us feel that he and his brethren, and all with whom he had to do, are indeed kin to us; that their duty is our duty too--their temptations ours--that where they fell, we may fall--where they conquered we may conquer. For what is the story? A young lad is thrown into every temptation possible for him. Joseph is very handsome. The Bible says so expressly; so we may believe it. He has every gift of body and mind. He is, as his story proves plainly, a very clever person, with a strange power of making every one whom he deals with love him and obey him--a terrible temptation, as all God's gifts are, if abused by a man's vanity, or covetousness or ambition. He is an injured man too. He has been basely betrayed by his brothers; he is under a terrible temptation, to which ninety-nine men out of one hundred would have yielded--do yield, alas! to this day, to revenge himself if he ever has an opportunity. He is an injured man in Egypt, for he is a slave to a foreigner who has no legal or moral right over him. If ever there was a man who might be excused for cherishing a burning indignation against his oppressors, for brooding over his own wrongs, for despairing of God's providence, it is Joseph in Egypt. What could we do but pity him if he had said to himself, as thousands in his place have said since, "There is no God, or if there is, He does not care for me--He does not care what men do. He looks on unmoved at wrong and cruelty, and lets man do even as he will. Then why should not _I_ do as _I_ will? What are these laws of God of which men talk? What are these sacred bonds of family and society? Every one for himself is the rule of the world, and it shall be _my_ rule. Every man's hand has been against _me_; why should not my hand be against every man? _I_ have been betrayed; why should not _I_ betray? _I_ have been opprest; why should not _I_ oppress? I have a lucky chance, too, of enjoying and revenging myself at the same time; why should I not take my good luck, and listen to the words of the tempter?" My dear friends, this is the way in which thousands have talked, in which thousands talk to this day. This is the spirit which ends in breaking up society, as happened in France eighty years ago, in the inward corruption of a nation, and at last, in outward revolution and anarchy, from which may God in His mercy deliver us and our fellow-countrymen, and the generations yet to come. But any nation or any man, will only be delivered from it, as Joseph was delivered from it, by saying, "I fear God." No doubt it is most natural for a man who is injured and opprest to think in that way. Most _natural_--just as it is most natural for the trapped dog to struggle vainly, and, in his blind rage, bite at everything around him, even at his own master's hand when it offers to set him free. And if men are to be mere children of nature, like the animals, and not children of grace and sons of God, like Joseph, and like one greater than Joseph, then I suppose they must needs tear each other to pieces in envy and revenge, for there is nought better to be done. But if they wish to escape from the misery and ruin which envy and revenge bring with them, then they had better recollect that they are not children of nature, but children of God--they had best follow Joseph's example, and say, "I fear God." For this poor, betrayed, enslaved lad had got into his heart something above Nature--something which Nature cannot give, but only the inspiration of the Spirit of God gives. He had got into his heart the belief that God's laws were sacred things and must not be broken, and that whatever befel him he must fear God. However unjust and lawless the world looked, God's laws were still in it, and over it, and would avenge themselves, and he must obey them at all risks. And what were God's laws in Joseph's opinion? These--the common relations of humanity between master to servant, and servant to master; between parent to child, and child to parent; brother to brother and sister to sister, and between the man who is trusted and the man who trusts him. These laws were sacred; and if all the rest of the world broke them, he (Joseph) must not. He was bound to his master, not only by any law of man, but by the Law of God. His master trusted him, and left all that he had in his hand, and to Joseph the law of honour was the law of God. Then he must be justly faithful to his master. A sacred trust was laid on him, and to be true to it was to fear God. After a while his master's wife tempts him. He refuses; not merely out of honour to his master, but from fear of God. "How can I do this great wickedness," says Joseph, "and sin against God?" His master and his mistress are heathen, but their marriage is of God nevertheless; the vow is sacred, and he must deny himself anything, endure anything, dare any danger of a dreadful death, and a prison almost as horrible probably as death itself, rather than break it. So again, in the prison. If ever man had excuse for despairing of God's providence, for believing that right-doing did _not_ pay, it was poor Joseph in that prison. But no. God is with him still. He believes still in the justice of God, the providence of God, and therefore he is cheerful, active--he can make the best even of a dungeon. He can find a duty to do even there; he can make himself useful, helpful, till the keeper of the prison too leaves everything in his hand. What a gallant man! you say. Yes, my friends, but what makes him gallant? That which St. Paul says (in Hebrews xi.) made all the old Jewish heroes gallant--faith in God; real and living belief that God is--and that He is the rewarder of them that diligently seek Him. At last Joseph's triumph comes. He has his reward. God helps him--because he will help himself. He is made a great officer of state, married to a woman of high rank, probably a princess, and he sees his brothers who betrayed him at his mercy. Their lives are in his hand at last. What will he do? Will he be a bad brother because they were bad? Or will he keep to his old watchword, "I fear God?" If he is tempted to revenge himself, he crushes the temptation down. He will bring his brothers to repentance. He will touch their inward witness, and make them feel that they have been wicked men. That is for their good. And strangely, but most naturally, their guilty consciences go back to the great sin of their lives--to Joseph's wrong, though they have no notion that Joseph is alive, much less near them. "Did I not tell you," says Reuben, "sin not against the lad, and ye would not hearken? Therefore is this distress come upon us." Joseph punishes Simeon by imprisonment. It may be that he had reasons for it which we are not told. But when his brothers have endured the trial, and he finds that Benjamin is safe, he has nothing left but forgiveness. They are his brethren still--his own flesh and blood. And he "fears God." He dare not do anything but forgive them. He forgives them utterly, and welcomes them with an agony of happy tears. He will even put out of their minds the very memory of their baseness. "Now, therefore, be not grieved nor angry with yourselves that ye sold me hither, he says; for God sent me before you, to save your lives with a great deliverance." Is not that Divine? Is not that the Spirit of God and of Christ? I say it is. For what is it but the likeness of Christ, who says for ever, out of heaven, to all mankind, "Be not grieved nor angry with yourselves that ye crucified me. For God, my Father, sent me to save your souls by a great salvation." My friends, learn from this story of Joseph, and the prominent place in the Bible which it occupies--learn, I say, how hateful to God are family quarrels; how pleasant to God are family unity and peace, and mutual trust, and duty, and helpfulness. And if you think that I speak too strongly on this point, recollect that I do no more than St. Paul does, when he sums up the most lofty and mystical of all his Epistles, the Epistle to the Ephesians, by simple commands to husbands and wives, parents and children, masters and servants, as if he should say,--You wish to be holy? you wish to be spiritual? Then fulfil these plain family duties, for they, too, are sacred and divine, and he who despises them, despises the ordinances of God. And if you despise the laws of God, they will surely avenge themselves on you. If you are bad husbands or bad wives, bad parents or bad children, bad brothers or sisters, bad masters or servants, you will smart for it, according to the eternal laws of God, which are at work around you all day long, making the sinner punish himself whether he likes or not. Examine yourselves--ask yourselves, each of you, Have I been a good brother? have I been a good son? have I been a good husband? have I been a good father? have I been a good servant? If not, all professions of religion will avail me nothing. If not, let me confess my sins to God, and repent and amend at once, whatever it may cost me. The fulfilling these plain duties is the true test of my faith, the true sign and test whether I really believe in God and in Jesus Christ our Lord. Do I believe that the world is Christ's making? and that Christ is governing it? Do I believe that these plain family relationships are Christ's sacred appointments? Do I believe that our Lord Jesus was made very man of the substance of His mother, to sanctify these family relationships, and claim them as the ordinances of God His Father? In one word--copy Joseph; and when you are tempted say with Joseph, "Can I do this great wickedness, and sin--not against this man or this woman, but against--_God_." Take home these plain, practical words. Take them home, and fear God at your own firesides. For at the last day, the Bible tells us, the Lord Jesus Christ will not reward you and me according to the opinions we held while in this mortal body, whether they were quite right or quite wrong, but according to the deeds which we did in the body, whether they were good or bad. X. SLAVES OF FREE? "Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will show to you to-day: for the Egyptians whom ye have seen to day, ye shall see them again no more for ever. The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace."--EXODUS xiv. 13, 14. Why did God bring the Jews out of Egypt? God Himself told them why. To fulfil the promise which He made to Abraham, their forefather, that of his children He would make a great nation. Now the Jews in Egypt were not a nation at all. A nation is free, governed by its own laws, one body of people, held together by one fellow feeling, one language, one blood, one religion; as we English are. We are a nation. The Jews were none in Egypt, no more than Negro slaves in America were a nation. They served a people of a different blood, as the Jews did in Egypt. They had no laws of their own; they had no fellow- feeling with each other, which enabled them to make common cause together, and help each other, and free each other. Selfishness and cowardice make some men slaves. Above all, ungodliness makes men slaves. For when men do not fear and obey God, they are sure to obey their own lusts and passions, and become slaves to them. They become ready to sell themselves soul and body for money, or pleasure, or food. And their fleshly lusts, their animal appetites, keep them down, selfish, divided, greedy, and needy, at the mercy of those who are stronger and cunninger than themselves, just as the Jews were kept down by the strong and cunning Egyptians. They had slavish hearts in them, and as long as they had, God could not make them into a nation. The Jews _had_ slaves' hearts in them. They were glad enough to get free out of Egypt, to escape from their heavy labour in brick and mortar, from being oppressed, beaten, killed at the will and fancy of the Egyptians, from having their male children thrown into the river as soon as they were born, to keep them from becoming too numerous. They were glad enough, poor wretches, to escape from all their misery and oppression of which we read in the first three chapters of Exodus. But if they could do that, that was all they cared for. They did not want to be made wise, righteous, strong, free-hearted--they did not care about being made into a nation. We read that when by the Red Sea shore (Exodus xiv.), they saw themselves in great danger, the army of Pharaoh, King of Egypt, following close upon them to attack them, they lost heart at once, and were sore afraid, and cried unto Moses, "Is not this the word which we did tell thee in Egypt, saying, Let us alone that we may serve the Egyptians? For it had been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness." Cowards and slaves! The thing they feared above all, you see, was death. If they could but keep the miserable life in their miserable bodies, they cared for nothing beyond. They were willing to see their children taken from them and murdered, willing to be beaten, worked like dumb beasts for other men's profit, willing to be idolaters, heathens, worshipping the false gods of Egypt, dumb beasts and stocks and stones, willing to be despised, wretched, helpless slaves--if they could but keep the dear life in them. God knows there are plenty like them now-a-days--plenty who do not care how mean, helpless, wicked, contemptible they are, if they can but get their living by their meanness. "_But a man must live_," says some one. How often one hears that made the excuse for all sorts of meanness, dishonesty, grasping tyranny. "_A man must live_!" Who told you that? It is better to die like a man than to live like a slave, and a wretch, and a sinner. Who told you that, I ask again? Not God's Bible, surely. Not the example of great and good men. If Moses had thought that, do you think he would have gone back from Midian, when he was in safety and comfort, with a wife and home, and children at his knee, and leave all he had on earth to face Pharaoh and the Egyptians, to face danger, perhaps a cruel death in shame and torture, and all to deliver his countrymen out of Egypt? Moses would sooner die like a man helping his countrymen, than live on the fat of the land while they were slaves. And forty years before he had shown the same spirit too, when though he was rich and prosperous, and high in the world, the adopted son of King Pharaoh's daughter (Exodus ii. 11), he disdained to be a slave and to see his countrymen slaves round him. We read how he killed an Egyptian, who was ill-treating one of his brothers, the Jews--and how he then fled out of Egypt into Midian, houseless and friendless, esteeming as St. Paul says, "the reproach of Christ"--that is the affliction and ill-will which came on him for doing right, "better than all the treasures of Egypt" (Heb xi. 24-27). _A man must live_? The valiant Tyrolese of old did not say that (more than seventy years ago), when they fought to the last drop of their blood to defend their country against the French invaders. They were not afraid to die for liberty; and therefore they won honour from all honourable men, praise from all whose praise is worth having for ever. _A man must live_? The old Greeks and Romans, heathens though they were, were above so mean a speech as that. They used to say, it was the noblest thing that can befall a man to die--not to live in clover, eating and drinking at his ease--to die among the foremost, fighting for wife and child and home. _A man must live_? The martyrs of old did not say that, when they endured the prison and the scourge, the sword and the fire, and chose rather to die in torments unspeakable than deny the Lord Jesus who bought them with His blood, rather than do what they knew to be _wrong_. (Hebrews xi.) They were not afraid of torture and death; but of doing wrong they were unspeakably afraid. They were _free_, those holy men of old, truly free--free from their own love of ease and cowardice and selfishness, and all that drags a man down and makes a slave of him. They knew that "life is more than meat, and the body more than raiment." What matter if a man gain the whole world and lose his own soul? Their souls were free whatever happened to their bodies--the tormentor could not touch _them_, because they believed in God, because they did not fear those who could kill the body, and after that had no more that they could do. And do you not see that a coward can never be free, never be godly, never be like Christ? For by a coward I mean not merely a man who is afraid of pain and trouble. Every one is that more or less. Jesus Himself was afraid when He cried in agony, "Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done." (Luke xxii. 42.) But a coward is a man who is so much afraid that to escape pain and danger, he will do what he _ought not_--do what he is ashamed of doing--do what lowers him; and therefore our Lord Jesus had perfect courage when He tasted death for all men, and endured the very agony from which He shrank, and while He said, "Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass," said also, "Nevertheless not my will, but Thine, be done." The Jews were cowards when they cried, "Let us alone that we may serve the Egyptians." While a man is in that pitiful mood he cannot rise, he cannot serve God--for he must remain the slave of his own body, of which he is so mightily careful, the slave of his own fears, the slave of his own love of bodily comfort. Such a man does not _dare_ serve God. He dare not obey God, when obeying God is dangerous and unpleasant. He dare not claim his heavenly birthright, his share in God's Spirit, his share in Christ's kingdom, because that would bring discomfort on him, because he will have to give up the sins he loves, because he will have to endure the insults and ill-will of wicked men. Thus cowards can never be free, for it is only where the Spirit of God is that there is liberty. But the Jews were not yet fit to be made soldiers of. God would not teach them at once not to be afraid of men. He did not command them to turn again and fight these Egyptians, neither did He lead them into the land of Canaan the strait and short road, through the country of the Philistines, lest they should be discouraged when they saw war. Now what was God's plan for raising the Jews out of this cowardly, slavish state? First, and above all, to make them trust in _Him_. While they were fearing the Egyptians, they could never fear Him. While they were fearing the Egyptians, they were ready to do every base thing, to keep their masters in good humour with them. God determined to teach them to fear Him more than they feared the Egyptians. God taught them that He was stronger than the Egyptians, for all their civilisation and learning and armies, chariots and horsemen, swords and spears. He would not let the Jews fight the Egyptians. He told them by the mouth of Moses, "Stand you still, and the Lord shall fight for you," and he commanded Moses to stretch out his rod over the sea. (Exodus xiv.) The Egyptians were stronger than the Jews--they would have cut them to pieces if they had come to a battle. For free civilised men like the Egyptians are always stronger than slaves, like the Jews; they respect themselves more, they hold together better, they have order and discipline, and obedience to their generals, which slaves have not. God intended to teach the Jews that also in His good time. But not yet. They were not fit yet to be made soldiers. They were not even _men_ yet, but miserable slaves. A man is only a true man when he trusts in God, and none but God--when he fears God and nothing _but_ God. And that was the lesson which God had to teach them. That was the lesson which He taught them by bringing them up out of Egypt by signs and wonders, that _God was the Lord_, _God_ was their deliverer, _God_ was their King--that let _them_ be as weak as they might, _He_ was strong--that if they could not fight the Egyptians God could overwhelm them--that if they could not cross the sea, God could open the sea to let them pass through. If they dreaded the waste howling wilderness of sand, with its pillars of cloud and fire, its stifling winds which burn the life out of man and beast, God could make the sand storms and the fire pillars and the deadly east wind of the desert work for their deliverance. And so He taught them to fear Himself, to trust in Him, to look up to Him as their deliverer whose strength was shown most gloriously when they were weakest and most despairing. This was the great lesson which God meant to teach the children of Israel, that the root and ground of all other lessons, is that this earth belongs to the Lord alone. That had been what God had been teaching them already, by the plagues of Egypt. The Egyptians worshipped their great river Nile, and thought it was a god, and the Lord turned the Nile water into blood, and showed that He could do what He liked with it. The Egyptians worshipped dumb beasts and insects, and fancied in their folly that they were gods. The Lord sent plagues of frogs and flies and locusts, and took them away again when He liked, to show them that the beasts and creeping things were His also. The Egyptians worshipped false gods who as they fancied managed the seasons and the weather. God sent them thunder and hail when it pleased Him, and showed the Jews that _He_, not these false gods of Egypt, ruled the heavens. The Egyptians and many other heathen nations of the earth used to offer their children to false gods. I do not mean by killing them in sacrifice, but by naming them after some idol, and then expecting that the idol would ever afterwards prosper and strengthen them. Thus the kings were called after the sun. Pharaoh means the Sun-king; for they fancied that the sun was a god, and protected their kings one after the other. And God slew all the first-born of Egypt, even the first-born of King Pharaoh on his throne. The Sun-god could not help him. The idols of Egypt could not take care of their worshippers--only the children of the Jews escaped. (Exodus xii.) What a lesson for the Jews! And they needed it; for during the four hundred years that they had been in Egypt they had almost forgotten the one true God, the God of their forefathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; at least they thought Him no better than the false gods of Egypt. After all these wondrous proofs of God's almighty power, and His jealousy for His own name, they fell away to idols again and again. They worshipped a golden calf in Horeb (Exodus xxxii.); they turned aside to worship the idols of the nations whom they passed through on their way to Canaan. Idolatry had been rooted in their hearts, and it took many years of severe training and teaching on God's part to drive it out of them--to make them feel that the one God, who made heaven and earth, had delivered them--that they belonged to Him, that they had a share in Him--to make them join with one heart and voice in the glorious song of Moses: "I will sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously: the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea. The Lord is my strength and song and he is become my salvation: he is my God and I will prepare him an habitation; my father's God, and I will exalt him. The Lord is a man of war: the Lord is his name. Pharaoh's chariots and his host hath he cast into the sea: his chosen captains also are drowned in the Red Sea. The depths have covered them: they sank into the bottom as a stone. Thy right hand, O Lord, is become glorious in power: thy right hand, O Lord, hath dashed in pieces the enemy. And in the greatness of thine excellency thou hast overthrown them that rose up against thee: thou sentest forth thy wrath, which consumed them as stubble. And with the blast of thy nostrils the waters were gathered together, the floods stood upright as an heap, and the depths were congealed in the heart of the sea. The enemy said, I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil; my lust shall be satisfied upon them; I will draw my sword, my hand shall deliver them. Thou didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered them: they sank as lead in the mighty waters. Who is like unto thee, O Lord, among the gods? who is like thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders? Thou stretchedst out thy right hand, the earth swallowed them. Thou in thy mercy hast led forth the people which thou hast redeemed: thou hast guided them in thy strength unto thy holy habitation. The people shall hear, and be afraid: sorrow shall take hold on the inhabitants of Palestina. Then the dukes of Edom shall be amazed; the mighty men of Moab, trembling shall take hold upon them; all the inhabitants of Canaan shall melt away. Fear and dread shall fall upon them; by the greatness of thine arm they shall be as still as a stone; till thy people pass over, O Lord, till the people pass over, which thou hast purchased. Thou shalt bring them in and plant them in the mountain of thine inheritance, in the place, O Lord, which thou hast made for thee to dwell in, in the Sanctuary, O Lord, which thy hands have established. The Lord shall reign for ever and ever. For the horse of Pharaoh went in with his chariots and with his horsemen into the sea, and the Lord brought again the waters of the sea upon them; but the children of Israel went on dry land in the midst of the sea." (Exodus xv. 1-19.) This was God's first lesson to the Jews; the first step towards making them a free nation. For believe me, my friends, the only thought which can make men feel free and strong, the only thought which can keep them from being afraid of each other, afraid of the seasons, and the elements, and the chances and changes of this mortal life, the only thought which can teach them that they are brothers, bound together to help and love each other, in short the only thought which can make men citizens--is the thought that the one God is their Father, and that they are all His children--that they have one God, one religion, one baptism, one Lord and Saviour, who has delivered them, and will deliver them again and again from all their sins and miseries; one God and Father of all, who is in all, and for all, and over all, to whom they all owe equal duty, in whom they all have an equal share. That lesson God began to teach the Jews by the Red Sea. That lesson God has taught our English forefathers again and again; and that lesson He will teach us, their children, as often as we forget it, by signs and wonders, by chastisements and by mercies, till we all learn to trust in Him and Him only, and know that there is none other name under heaven by which we can be saved from evil in this life or in the life to come, but the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Angel of the Covenant, who led the Jews up out of the land of Egypt. XI. DANGERS--AND THE LITANY. "Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their distresses. And he led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of habitation. Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men."--PSALM cvii. 6-8. This 107th Psalm is a noble psalm--a psalm which has given comfort to thousands in suffering and in danger, even in the sorrows which they have brought on themselves by their own folly. For it tells them of a Lord who hears them when they cry to Him in their trouble, and who delivers them from their distress. It was written on a special occasion, as all the most important words of the Bible are written--written seemingly, after some band of Jews struggling across the desert, on their return from the captivity in Babylon, had been in great danger of death. They went astray in the wilderness out of their way, and found no city to rest in; hungry and thirsty their soul fainted in them, so they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them from their distress. He led them forth by the right way, that they might go to the city where they dwelt. That was the plain fact, on which the psalmist built up this noble psalm. In the blazing sandy desert, without water, food, or shade, they had lost their path, and were at their wit's end. And they cried unto the Lord their God for guidance, for they could not guide themselves. And the Lord answered their prayer and guided them. We do not read that God worked a miracle for them, or sent an angel to lead them. Simply, somehow or other, they found their way after all, and got safe out of the desert; and they believed that it was God who enabled them to find their way, and praised the Lord for His goodness; and for His goodness not only to them, but to the children of men--to all men who had the sense to call on Him in trouble, and to put themselves in their right place as men--God's children, calling for help to their Father in heaven. Therefore the psalmist goes on to speak of the cases of God's goodness, which he seems to have seen, or at least heard of. Of wretched prisoners, bound fast in misery and iron, and that through their own fault and folly, who had cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and been delivered by Him from the darkness of the dungeon. Of foolish men who had ruined their health, or at least their prospects in life, by their own sin and folly, till their soul abhorred all manner of meat, and they were hard at death's door. But of them, too, he says, when they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, He delivered them from their distress. He sent His word--what we now foolishly call the laws of Nature, but which the Psalmist knew to be the ever-working power and providence of God--and healed them, and they were saved from their destruction. Then he goes on to speak of the dangers of the sea which were especially strange and terrible to him--a Jew. For the Jews were no sailors; and if they went to sea, would go as merchants, or supercargoes in ships manned by heathens; and the danger was really great. The ships were clumsy; navigation was ill-understood; the storms of the Mediterranean sea were then as now, sudden and furious; and when one came on, the heathen sailors would, I doubt not, be at their wit's end, their courage melting away because of the trouble, and call on all their gods and idols to help them; but the men of whom the Psalmist speaks, though they were no seamen, knew on whom to call. It was by the word of the Lord that the stormy wind arose which lifted up the billows. He could quell the storm if He would, and when He would; and to Him they cried and not in vain. "And He made the storm to cease so that the waves thereof were still. Then were they glad, because they were at rest, and so He brought them to the haven where they would be." My friends, this was the simple faith of the old Jews. And this was the simple faith of our forefathers by land and sea. And this faith, as I believe, made England great. The faith that there was a living God, a living Lord, who would hear the cry of poor creatures in their trouble, even when they had brought their trouble on themselves. Our forefathers were not mere landsmen like the Jews, but the finest seamen the world has ever seen. And yet they were not ashamed in storm and danger to cry like the Jews unto the Lord, that He might make the storm to cease, and bring them to the haven where they would be. Yes! faith in God did not make them the less brave, skilful, cautious, scientific; and it need not make us so. Skill and science need not take away our faith in God. I trust it will not take it away, and I believe it will not take it away, as long as we can hear what I once heard, on board of one of the finest men of war {80a} in the British Navy--the ship in which and from which, all British sailors may learn their duty--when I saw some six or eight hundred men mustered on the deck for daily morning prayer, and heard the noble old prayer, which our forefathers have handed down to us, to be said every day in Her Majesty's navy: {80b} "O eternal God who alone spreadest out the heavens, and rulest the raging of the sea; who hast compassed the waters with bounds, until day and night come to an end; be pleased to receive into Thy Almighty and most gracious protection, the persons of us Thy servants, and the fleet in which we serve. Preserve us from the dangers of the sea, and from the violence of the enemy, that we may be a safeguard unto our most gracious Sovereign Lady Queen Victoria and her dominions, and a security for such as pass on the seas upon their lawful occasions; that the inhabitants of our island may in peace and quietness serve Thee our God, and that we may return in safety to enjoy the blessings of the land, with the fruits of our labours, and with a thankful remembrance of Thy mercies, to praise and glorify Thy holy name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." Then, as I stood upon that deck, and heard that solemn appeal to God, before each man went about his appointed duty for the day, said I to myself, "The ancient spirit is not dead. It may be that it is sleeping in these prosperous times. But it is not dead, as long as this nation by those prayers confesses that we ought at least to believe in a God who hears our prayers, by land and sea. Those grand words were perhaps nothing but a form to most of the men who heard them. But they were a form which bore witness to a truth which was true, even if they forgot it--a truth which they might need some day, and feel the need of, and cling to, as the sailors of old time clung to it. Those words would surely sink into the men's ears, and some day, it might be, bear fruit in their hearts. In storm, in wreck, in battle, and in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment, these words would surely rise in many a brave fellow's memory, and help him to do his duty like a man, because there was a living Lord and God above him who knew his weakness and would hear his prayers." And we, my friends, here safe on land, we have a national prayer, or rather a series of prayers, to Christ as God, which ought to remind us of that noble truth which the 107th Psalm is meant to teach. You hear it all of you every Sunday morning. I mean the Litany. That noble composition, which seems to me more wise as a work of theology, more beautiful as a work of art, the oftener I use it--That Litany, I say, is modelled on the 107th Psalm; and it expresses the very heart and spirit of our forefathers three hundred years ago. It bids us pray to be delivered from every conceivable harm, to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And then it prays for every conceivable blessing, not only for each of us separately, but for this whole nation of England, Great Britain, and Ireland, and for all the nations on earth, and for the heathen and the savage. Of course, just because it is a National prayer, and meant for all Englishmen alike, all of it does not suit each and every one of us at the same time. Each heart knows its own bitterness. Each soul has its own special mercy to ask. But there is a word in the Litany here, and another there, which will fit each of us in turn, if we will but follow it. One may have to pray to be delivered from pride, vain-glory, and hypocrisy--another to be delivered from foul living and deadly sin--another to be delivered, or to have those whom he loves delivered, from battle, murder, and sudden death. Another to be delivered from the dangers of affliction and tribulation; another from the far worse danger of wrath; but all have to pray to be delivered from something. And all have to pray to the same deliverer--Christ, who was born a Man, died a man, and rose again a man, that He might know what was in man, and be able to succour those who are tempted, seeing that He was tempted in all things like as we are, yet without sin. But there is a part--the latter part--of that Litany which, I think, many do not understand or feel. Perhaps they have reason to thank God that they do not understand or feel it; yet, the day may come--a day of sadness, fear, perplexity, sorrow, when they will understand it, and thank God that their forefathers placed it in the prayer-book, for them to fall back upon, as comfort and hope in the day of trouble; putting words into their mouths and thoughts into their hearts, which they, perhaps, never would have found out for themselves. I mean that latter part of the Litany which talks of the evils which the craft and subtilty of the devil or men work against us, that they may be brought to nought, and by the providence of God's goodness be dispersed, that we may be hurt by no persecutions--which calls on Christ to arise and deliver us, for His name's sake and His honour, which pleads before God the noble works which He did in the days of our forefathers; and which continues with short prayers, almost cries, which have something in them of terror, almost of agony. What have such words to do with us? Why are they put into the mouths of us English, safe, comfortable, prosperous, above almost all the nations upon earth? Ah! my friends, those prayers, when they were first put into our prayer- book, were spoken for the hearts of Englishmen. They were not prayers for one afflicted person here, and another there,--they, too, were National prayers. They were the cries of the English nation in agony--in the time when, three hundred years ago, the mightiest nations and powers of Europe, temporal and spiritual, were set against this little isle of England, and we expected not merely to be invaded and conquered, but destroyed utterly and horribly with sword and fire, by the fleets and armies of the King of Spain. In that great danger and war our forefathers cried to God; and they cried all the more earnestly, because they felt that their hands were not clean; that they had plenty and too many sins to be "mercifully forgiven," and that at best they could but ask God "mercifully to look upon their infirmities," and, "for the glory of His name, turn from them those evils which they most righteously had deserved." But nevertheless they cried unto God in their great agony, because they had the spirit of the old Psalmist, who said, "They cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them out of their distress." And what answer God made to their prayers all the world knows, or should know. For if He had not answered their prayer, we should not be here this day, a great, and strong, and prosperous nation, with a pure Church and a free Gospel, and the Holy Bible if he wills, in the hands of the poorest child. Unless prayer be a dream, and there be no God in heaven worth calling a God--then did God answer the prayers of our forefathers three hundred years ago, when they cried unto Him as one nation in their utter need. But some will say--this may be all very true and very fine, but we are in no such utter need now. Why should we use those prayers? My dear friends, let me say, if you are not now in utter need, in terror, anxiety, danger, if you have no need to cry to Christ, "Graciously look upon our afflictions; pitifully behold the sorrows of our hearts," how do you know that there is not some one in any and every congregation who is? And you and I, if we have said the Litany in spirit and in truth, have been praying for them. The Litany bids us speak as members of a Church, as citizens of a nation, bound together by the ties of blood and of laws, as well as self-interest. The Litany bids us say, not selfishly and apart, Graciously look on _my_ afflictions, but on _our_ afflictions--the afflictions of every English man, and woman, and child, who is in trouble, or ever will be in trouble _hereafter_. Oh, remember this last word. Generations long since dead and buried have prayed for you, and God has heard their prayers; and now you have been praying for your children, and your children's children, and generations yet unborn, that, if ever a dark day should come over England, a time of want and danger and perplexity and misery, God would deliver them in their turn out of their distress. And more; you have been teaching your children, that they may teach their children in turn, and pray and cry to God in their trouble; and thus this grand old Litany is to us, and to those we shall leave behind us a precious National heir-loom, teaching us and them the lesson of the 107th Psalm--that there is a Lord in heaven who hears the prayers of men, the sinful as well as the sorrowful, that when they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, He delivers them out of their distress, and that men should therefore praise the Lord for His goodness, and declare the wonders which He doeth for the children of men. XII. WILD TIMES, OR DAVID'S FAITH IN A LIVING GOD. "David therefore departed thence, and escaped to the cave Adullam: and when his brethren and all his father's house heard it, they went down thither to him. And every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented, gathered themselves unto him; and he became a captain over them: and there were with him about four hundred men."--1 SAM. xxii. 1, 2. In every country, at some time or other, there have been evil days--days of violence, tyranny, misrule, war, invasion, when men are too apt, for want of settled law, to take the law into their own hands; and the land is full of robbers, outlaws, bands of partizans and irregular soldiers--wild times, in which wild things are done. Of such times we here in England have had no experience, and we forget how common they are; we forget that many great nations have been in this state again and again. We forget that almost all Europe was in that wild and lawless state in our fathers' times, and therefore we forget that the Bible, which tells man his whole duty, must needs tell men about such times as those, and how a man may do his duty, and save his soul therein. For the Bible is every man's book, and has its lesson for every man. It is meant not merely for comfortable English folk, who sit at home at ease, under just laws and a good government. It is meant just as much for the opprest, for the persecuted, for the man who is fighting for his country, for the man who has been found fighting in vain, and is simply waiting for God's help, and crying, "Lord, how long? how long ere Thou avenge the blood that is shed?" It is meant as much for such as for you and me; that every man, in whatever fearful times he may live, and whatever fearful trials he may go through, and whatever fearful things he may be tempted to do, and, indeed, may have to do, in self-defence, may still be able to go to the Bible, there to find light for his feet, and a lantern for his path, and so that he may steer through the worst of times by Faith in the Living God. Again, such lawless times are certain to raise up bold and adventurous men, more or less like David. Men of blood--who are yet not altogether bad men--who are forced to take the law into their own hands, to try and keep their countrymen together, to put down tyrants and robbers, and to drive out invaders. And men, too, suffering from deep and cruel wrongs, who are forced for their lives' sake, and their honour's sake, to escape--to flee to the mountains and the forests, and to foreign lands, and there live as they can till times shall be better. There have been such men in all wild times--outlaws, chiefs of armed bands, like our Robin Hood, whose name was honoured in England for hundreds of years as the protector of the poor and the opprest, and the punisher of the Norman tyrants: a man made up of much good and much evil, whom we must not judge, but when we think of him, only thank God that we do not live in such times now, when no man's life or property, or the honour of his family was safe. Such men, too, in our fathers' days, were the Tyrolese heroes, Hofer and the Good Monk who left, the one his farm and the other his cloister, to lead their countrymen against the invading French; men of blood, who were none the less men of God. And such is, in our own days, that famous Garibaldi, whose portrait hangs in many an English cottage, for a proof that though we, thank God, do not need such men in peaceful England, our hearts bid us to love and honour them wherever they be. There have been such men in all bad times, and there will be till the world's end, and they will do great deeds, and their names will be famous, and often honoured and adored by men. Now, what does the Bible say of such men? Does it give any rule by which we may judge them? any rule which they ought to obey? Can God's blessing be on them? Can they obey God in that wild and dark and dangerous station to which He seems to have called them--to which God certainly called Hofer and the Good Monk? I think if the Bible did not answer that question it would not be a complete book--if it spoke only of peaceful folk, and peaceful times; when, alas! from the beginning of the world, the earth has been but too full of violence and misrule, war and desolation. But the Bible _does_ answer that question. A large portion of one whole book is actually taken up with the history of a young outlaw--of David, the shepherd boy, who rises through strange temptations and dangers to be a great king, the first man who, since Moses, formed the Jews into one strong united nation. It does not hide his faults, even his fearful sins, but it shows us that he _had_ a right road to follow, though he often turned aside from it. It shows us that he could be a good man if he chose, though he was an outlaw at the head of a band of ruffians; and it shows us the secret of his power and of his success--_Faith in the Living God_. Therefore it is that after the Bible has shown us (in the Book of Ruth) worthy Boaz standing among his reapers in the barley field, it goes on to show us Boaz's great-grandson, David, a worthy man likewise, but of a very different life, marked out by God from his youth for strange and desperate deeds; killing, as a mere boy, a lion and a bear, overthrowing the Philistine giant with a sling and a stone, captain of a band of outlaws in the wilderness, fighting battles upon battles; and at last a king, storming the mountain fortress of Jerusalem, and setting up upon Mount Zion, which shall never be removed, the Throne of David. A strange man, and born into a strange time. You all know the first part of David's history--how Samuel secretly anoints David king over Israel, and how the Spirit of the Lord comes from that day forward upon the young lad (1 Samuel xvi. 12). How king Saul meanwhile fell into dark and bad humours. How the Spirit of the Lord--of goodness and peace of mind--goes from him, and an evil spirit from the Lord troubles him. Then how young David is sent for to play to him on his harp (1 Samuel xvi.), and soothe his distempered mind. Already we hear of David as a remarkable person; we hear of his extraordinary beauty, his skill in music; we hear, too, how he is already a man of war, and a mighty valiant man, and prudent in matters, and the Lord is with him. Then follows the famous story of his killing Goliath the Philistine (1 Samuel xvii.). Poor, distempered Saul, it seems, had forgotten him, though David had cured his melancholy with his harp-playing, and had actually been for a while his armour-bearer, for when he comes back with the giant's head, Saul has to ask Abner who he is; but after that he will let him go no more home to his father. Then follows the beautiful story of Jonathan, Saul's gallant son (1 Samuel xviii.), and his love for David. Then of Saul's envy of David, and how, in a sudden fit of hatred, he casts his javelin at him. Then how he grows afraid of him, and makes him captain of a thousand men, and gives him his daughter, on condition of David's killing him two hundred Philistines. And how he goes on, capriciously, honouring David one day and trying to kill him the next. While David rises always, and all Israel and Judah love him, and he behaves himself more wisely than all the servants of Saul. At last comes the open rupture. Saul, after trying to murder David, sends assassins to his house, and David flees for his life once and for all. He has served his master Saul loyally and faithfully. There is no word of his having opposed Saul, set himself up against him, boasted of himself, or in any way brought his anger down upon him. Saul is his king, and David has been loyal and true to him. But Saul's envy has grown to hatred, and that to murder. He murders the priests, with all their wives and children, for having given bread and shelter to David. And now David must flee into the wilderness and set up for himself, and he flees to the cave of Adullam (1 Samuel xxii.); and there you see the Bible does not try to hide what David's position was, and what sort of men he had about him--his brethren and his father's house, who were afraid that Saul would kill them instead of him, after the barbarous Eastern fashion, and among them the three sons of Zeruiah, his sister; and everyone who was discontented, and everyone who was in debt, all the most desperate and needy--one can conceive what sort of men they must have been. The Bible tells us afterwards of the wicked men and men of Belial who were among them--wild men, with weapons in their hands, and nothing to prevent their becoming a band of brutal robbers, if they had not had over them a man in whom, in spite of all his faults, was the Spirit of God. We must remember, meanwhile, that David had his temptations. He had been grievously wronged. Saul had returned him evil for good. All David's services and loyalty to Saul had been repaid with ingratitude and accusations of conspiracy against him. What terrible struggles of rage and indignation must have passed through David's heart! What a longing to revenge himself! He knew, too, for Samuel the prophet had told him, that he should be king one day. What a temptation, then, to make himself king at once! It was no secret either. The people knew of it. Jonathan, Saul's son, knew of it, and, in his noble, self-sacrificing way, makes no secret of it (1 Samuel xx.). What a temptation to follow the fashion which is too common in the East to this day, and strike down his tyrant at one blow, as many a man has done since, and to proclaim himself king of the Jews. Yes, David had heavy temptations--temptations which he could only conquer by faith in the Living God. And, because he masters himself, and remains patient and loyal to his king under every insult and wrong, he is able to master that wild and desperate band of men, and set them an example of patience and chivalry, loyalty and justice; to train them to be, not a terror and a scourge to the yeomen and peasants round, but a protection and a guard against the Philistines and Amalekites, and, in due time, his trusty bodyguard of warriors--men who have grown grey beside him through a hundred battles, who are to be the foundation of his national army, and help him to make the Jews one strong and united prosperous kingdom. All this the shepherd lad has to do, and he does it, by faith in the Living God, and so makes himself for all ages to come the pattern of perfect loyalty. And now, let us take home this one lesson--That the secret of David's success is not his beauty, his courage, his eloquence, his genius; other men have had gifts from God as great as David's, and have misused them to their own ruin, and to the misery of their fellow- men. No; the secret of David's success is his faith in the Living God; and that will be the secret of our success. _Without_ faith in God, the most splendid talents may lead a man to be a curse to himself and to his neighbours. _With_ faith in God, a very common-place person, without any special cleverness, may do great things, and make himself useful and honoured in his generation. XIII. DAVID AND NABAL, OR SELF-CONTROL. "And David said to Abigail, Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, which sent thee this day to meet me: And blessed be thy advice, and blessed be thou, which hast kept me this day from coming to shed blood, and from avenging myself with mine own hand."--1 SAMUEL xxv. 32, 33. The story of David and Nabal needs no explanation. It tells us of part of David's education--of a great lesson which he learnt--of a great lesson which we may learn. It is told with a dignity and a simplicity, with a grace and liveliness which makes itself understood at once, and carries its own lesson to any one who has a human heart in him. "And there was a man in Maon, whose possessions were in Carmel"--the park grass upland with timber trees--not the northern Carmel where Elijah slew the prophets of Baal, but the southern one on the edge of the desert. "And the man was very great, and he had three thousand sheep, and a thousand goats: and he was shearing his sheep in Carmel. Now the name of the man was Nabal; and the name of his wife Abigail: and she was a woman of good understanding, and of a beautiful countenance: but the man was churlish and evil in his doings; and he was of the house of Caleb." Caleb was Joshua's friend, who had conquered all that land in Joshua's time. Nabal, therefore, had all the pride of a man of most ancient and noble family--and no shame to him if he had had a noble, courteous, and generous heart therewith, instead of being, as he was, a stupid and brutal person. "And David heard in the wilderness that Nabal did shear his sheep. And David sent out ten young men, and David said unto the young men, Get you up to Carmel, and go to Nabal, and greet him in my name: And thus shall ye say unto him that liveth in prosperity, Peace be to thee, and peace be to thine house, and peace be to all that thou hast. And now I have heard that thou hast shearers: now thy shepherds which were with us, we hurt them not, neither was there ought missing unto them, all the while they were in Carmel. Ask the young men, and they will show thee. Wherefore let the young men find favour in thine eyes: for we come in a good day: give, I pray thee, whatsoever cometh to thine hand unto thy servants, and unto thy son David. And when David's young men came, they spake to Nabal, according to all thee words of David, and ceased." Nabal refuses; and in a way that shows, as his wife says of him, how well his name fits him--a fool is his name, and folly is with him. Insolently and brutally he refuses, as fools are wont to do. "And Nabal answered David's servants, and said, Who is David? and who is the son of Jesse? there be many servants now-a-days that break away every man from his master. Shall I then take my bread, and my water, and my flesh that I have killed for my shearers, and give it unto men whom I know not whence they be?" "As slaves break away from their master." This was an intolerable insult. To taunt a free-born man, as David was, with having been a slave and a runaway. It is hard to conceive how Nabal dared to say such a thing of a fierce chieftain like David, with six hundred armed men at his back; but there is no saying what a fool will not do when the spirit of the Lord is gone from him, and his own fancy and passions lead him captive. So David's young men came and told David. "And David said to his men, Gird every man on his sword. And they girded on every man his sword; and David also girded on his sword: and there went up after David about four hundred men; and two hundred abode by the stuff." That is a grand passage--grand, because it is true to human nature, true to the determined, prompt, kingly character of David. He does not complain, bluster, curse over the insult as a weak man might have done. He has been deeply hurt, and he is too high-minded to talk about it. He will do, and not talk. A dark purpose settles itself instantly in his mind. Perhaps he is ashamed of it, and dare not speak of it, even to himself. But what it was he confessed afterwards to Abigail, that he purposed utterly to kill Nabal and all his people. David was wrong of course. But the Bible makes no secret of the wrong-doings of its heroes. It does not tell us that they were infallible and perfect. It tells us that they were men of like passions with ourselves, in order that by seeing how they conquered their passions we may conquer ours. Meanwhile, Nabal's young men, his servants and slaves, see the danger, and go to Abigail. "One of the young men told Abigail, saying, Behold, David sent messengers out of the wilderness to salute our master; and he railed on them. But the men were very good unto us, and we were not hurt, neither missed we any thing, as long as we were conversant with them, when we were in the fields: They were a wall unto us both by night and day, all the while we were with them keeping the sheep. Now therefore know and consider what thou wilt do; for evil is determined against our master, and against all his household: for he is such a son of Belial, that a man cannot speak to him. Then Abigail made haste, and took two hundred loaves, and two bottles of wine, and five sheep ready dressed, and five measures of parched corn, and an hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes of figs, and laid them on asses. And she said unto her servants, Go on before me; behold, I come after you. But she told not her husband Nabal." And then follows the beautiful scene which has been the subject of many a noble picture. The fair lady kneeling before the terrible outlaw in the mountain woods, as she came down by the covert of the hill, and softening his fierce heart with her beauty and her eloquence and her prayers, and bringing him back to his true self--to forgiveness, generosity, and righteousness. "And when Abigail saw David, she hasted, and lighted off the ass, and fell before David on her face, and bowed herself to the ground, and fell at his feet, and said, Upon me, my lord, let this iniquity be: and let thine handmaid, I pray thee, speak in thine audience, and hear the words of thine handmaid. Let not my lord, I pray thee, regard this man of Belial, even Nabal: for as his name is, so is he; Nabal is his name, and folly is with him; but I, thine handmaid, saw not the young men of my lord, whom thou didst send. Now therefore, my lord, as the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, seeing the Lord hath withholden thee from coming to shed blood, and from avenging thyself with thine own hand, now let thine enemies, and they that seek evil to my lord, be as Nabal. . . . I pray thee forgive the trespass of thine handmaid: for the Lord will certainly make my lord a sure house; because my lord fighteth the battles of the Lord, and evil hath not been found in thee all thy days." And she conquers. The dark shadow passes off David's soul, and he is again the true, chivalrous, God-fearing David, who has never drawn sword yet in his own private quarrel, but has committed his cause to God who judgeth righteously, and will, if a man abide patiently in Him, make his righteousness as clear as the light, and his just-dealing as the noonday. Frankly he confesses his fault. "Blessed be thy advice, and blessed be thou which has kept me this day from coming to shed blood, and from avenging myself with mine own hand. For in very deed, as the Lord God of Israel liveth, which has kept me back from hurting thee, except thou hadst hasted and come to meet me, surely there had not a man been left unto Nabal by the morning light." Then follows the end. Abigail goes back to Nabal. Then the bully shows himself a coward. The very thought of the danger which he has escaped is too much for him. His heart died within him. "And Abigail came to Nabal; and behold, he held a feast in his house like the feast of a king; and Nabal's heart was merry within him, for he was very drunken: wherefore she told him nothing less or more until the morning light. But it came to pass in the morning, when the wine was gone out of Nabal, and his wife had told him these things, that his heart died within him, and he became as a stone. And it came to pass, about ten days after, that the Lord smote Nabal, that he died." One can imagine the picture for oneself. The rich churl sitting there in the midst of all his slaves and his wealth as one thunderstruck, helpless and speechless, till one of those mysterious attacks, which we still rightly call a stroke, and a visitation of God, ends him miserably. And when he is dead, Abigail becomes the wife of David, and shares his fortunes and his dangers in the wilderness. Now, what may we learn from this story? Surely what David learnt--the unlawfulness of revenge. David was to be trained to be a perfect king by learning self-control, and therefore he has to learn that he must not punish in his own quarrel. If he must not lift up his hand against Saul, on the ground of loyalty, neither must he lift up his hand against Nabal, on the deeper ground of justice and humanity. But from whom did David learn this? From himself. From his own heart and conscience, enlightened by the Spirit of God. Abigail gave him no commandment from God, in the common sense of the word. She only put David in mind of what he knew already. She appeals to his known nobleness of mind, and takes for granted that he will hear reason--takes for granted that he will do right--and so brought him to himself again. The Lord was withholding him, she says, from coming to shed blood, and avenging himself with his own hand. But that would have been of no avail had there not been something in David's own heart which answered to her words. For the Spirit of God had not left David; and it was the Spirit of God which gave him nobleness of heart--the Spirit of God which made him answer, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel who sent thee this day to meet me; and blessed be thy advice, and blessed be thou which hast kept me this day from shedding of blood." Though Abigail did not pretend to bring a message from God, David felt that she had brought one. And she was in his eyes not merely a suppliant pleading for mercy, but a prophetess declaring to him a divine law which he dare not resist. "It has been said by them of old time," our blessed Lord tells us, "an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth; thou shalt love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy." This is the first natural law which a savage lays down for himself. There is a rude sense of justice in it, mixed up with the same brute instinct of revenge which makes the wild beast turn in rage upon the hunter who wounds him. But our Lord Jesus Christ brings in a higher and more spiritual law. Punishment is to be left to the magistrate, who punishes in God's name. And where the law cannot touch the wrongdoer, God, who is the author of law, can and will punish. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." Yes! if punishment must be, then let God punish. Let man forgive. I say unto you, said our Lord, "Love your enemies. Do good to them that hate you--bless them that curse you--pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be the children of your Father which is in heaven, for He maketh His sun to shine upon the evil and the good, and sendeth rain on the just and the unjust." It is a hard lesson. But we must learn it. And we shall learn it, just as far as we are guided by the Spirit of God, who forms in us the likeness of Christ. And men are learning it more and more in Christian lands. Wherever Christ's gospel is truly and faithfully preached, the fashion, of revenge is dying out. There are countries still in Christendom in which men think nothing every day of stabbing and shooting the man who has injured them; and far, very far, from Christ and His Spirit must they be still. But we may have hope for them; for if we look at home, it was not so very many years ago that any Englishman, who considered himself a gentleman, was bound by public opinion to fight a duel for any slight insult. It was not so many years ago that among labouring men brutal quarrels and open fights were common, and almost daily occurrences. But now men are learning more and more to control their tempers and their tongues, and find it more and more easy, and more pleasant and more profitable, as our Lord forewarned them when He said, "Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls, for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." And Christ's easy yoke is the yoke of self-control, by which we bridle the passions which torment us. Christ's light burden is the burden and obligation laid on every one of us, to forgive others, even as God for Christ's sake has forgiven us. And the rest which shall come to our souls is the rest which David found, when he listened to the voice of God speaking by the lips of Abigail; the true and divine rest of heart and peace of mind--rest and peace from the inward storm of fretfulness, suspicion, jealousy, pride, wrath, revenge, which blackens the light of heaven to a man, and turns to gall and wormwood every blessing which God sends. Ah! my friends, if ever that angry storm rises in our hearts, if ever we be tempted to avenge ourselves, and cast off the likeness of God for that of the savage, and return evil for evil,--may God send to us in that day some angel of His own, as He sent Abigail to David--an angel, though clothed in human flesh and blood, with a message of peace and wisdom. And if any such should speak to us words of peace and wisdom, soothing us and rebuking us at once, and appealing to those feelings in us which are really the most noble, just because they are the most gentle, then let us not turn away in pride, and wrap ourselves up in our own anger, but let us receive these words as the message of God--whether they come from the lips of a woman, or of a servant, or even of a little child, for if we resist them we surely resist God--who has also given to us His Holy Spirit for that very purpose, that we may hear His message when He speaks. It was the Spirit of God in David which made him feel that Abigail's message was divine. The Spirit of God, hidden for a while behind his dark passions, like the sun by clouds, shone out clear again, and filled all his soul with light, showing him his duty, and giving back peace and brightness to his mind. God grant that whenever we are tried like David we may find that that Holy Spirit has not left us, but that even if a first storm of anger shall burst, it shall pass over quickly, and the day star arise in our hearts, and the Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon us, and give us peace. XIV. DAVID'S LOYALTY; OR, TEMPTATION RESISTED. "So David and Abishai came to the people by night: and, behold, Saul lay sleeping within the trench, and his spear stuck in the ground at his bolster; but Abner and the people lay round about him. Then said Abishai to David, God hath delivered thine enemy into thine hand this day: now therefore let me smite him, I pray thee, with the spear even to the earth at once, and I will not smite him the second time. And David said to Abishai, Destroy him not: for who can stretch forth his hand against the Lord's anointed, and be guiltless? David said furthermore, As the Lord liveth, the Lord shall smite him; or his day shall come to die; or he shall descend into battle, and perish. The Lord forbid that I should stretch forth mine hand against the Lord's anointed; but, I pray thee, take thou now the spear that is at his bolster, and the cruise of water, and let us go."--1 SAM. xxvi. 7-11. David stands for all times as the pattern of true loyalty--loyalty under the most extreme temptation. Knowing that he is to be king himself hereafter, he yet remains loyal to his king though unjustly persecuted to the death. Loyal he is to the end, because he has _faith_ and _obedience_. Faith tells him that if king he is to be, king he will be, in God's good time. If God had promised, God will perform. He must not make himself king. He must not take the matter into his own hand. Obedience tells him that Saul is still his master, and he is bound to him. If Saul be a bad master, that does not give him leave to be a bad servant. The sacred bond still remains, and he must not break it. But Saul is more. He is king--the Lord's anointed, the general of the armies of the living God. His office is sacred; his person is sacred. He is a public personage, and David must not lift up his hand against him in a private quarrel. Twice David's faith and obedience are tried fearfully. Twice Saul is in his power. Twice the temptation to murder him comes before him. The first time David and his men are in one of the great branching caves of Engaddi, the desolate limestone cliffs, two thousand feet high, which overhang the Dead Sea--and Saul is hunting him, as he says, as a partridge on the mountains. "And it came to pass when Saul had returned from following the Philistines, that it was told him saying, Behold David is in the cave of Engedi. And Saul took three thousand chosen men out of all Israel, and went to seek David and his men upon the rocks of the wild goats. And he came to the sheepcotes, and by the way there was a cave; and Saul went in, and David and his men remained in the sides of the cave. And the men of David said unto him, Behold the day of which the Lord said unto thee, Behold I will deliver thine enemy into thy hand, and thou mayest do to him as seemeth good unto thee. Then David arose, and cut off the skirt of Saul's robe privily. And it came to pass afterwards, that David's heart smote him, because he had cut off Saul's skirt. And he said unto his men, The Lord forbid that I should do this thing unto my master, the Lord's anointed, to stretch forth mine hand against him, seeing he is the anointed of the Lord. So David stayed his servants." And afterwards Saul rose up, not knowing what had happened, and David followed him. And when Saul looked back, David stooped down with his face to the earth and bowed himself before Saul, and spoke many noble words to his king (1 Sam. xxiv. 1-8). _And David's nobleness has its reward_. It brings out nobleness in return to Saul himself. It melts his heart for a time. "And it came to pass that when David had made an end of speaking, that Saul said, Is this thy voice, my son David? And Saul lifted up his voice, and wept. And he said to David, 'Thou art more righteous than I--for thou hast rewarded me good, whereas I have rewarded thee evil. And thou hast shewed me this day how thou hast dealt with me; for as much as when the Lord delivered me into thine hand, thou killedst me not. For if a man find his enemy, will he let him go well away? Wherefore the Lord reward thee good for that thou hast done unto me this day. And now, behold, I know well that thou shalt surely be king, and that the kingdom of Israel shall be established in thine hand.'" And so it will be with you, my friends. "If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink, for so thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head." Thou shalt melt the hardness of his heart. Thou shalt warm the coldness of his heart. Nobleness in thee shall bring out in answer nobleness in him, and if not, thou hast done thy duty, and the Lord judge between him and thee. But Saul's repentance does not last. Soon after we find him again hunting David in the wilderness, seemingly from mere caprice, and without any fresh cause of offence. The Ziphites--dwellers in the forests of the south of Judea--came to Saul and said, "Doth not David hide himself in the hill of Hachilah. Then Saul arose and went down to the wilderness, having three thousand chosen men of Israel with him, to seek David in the wilderness of Ziph. And Saul pitched in the hill of Hachilah. But David abode in the wilderness, and he saw that Saul came after him into the wilderness." Again Saul lies down to sleep--in an entrenched camp, and David and Abishai, his nephew, go down to the camp at night as spies. Then comes the story of my text--how Abishai would have slain Saul, and David forbade him to lift his hand against the Lord's anointed, and left Saul to the judgment of God, which he knew must come sooner or later--and merely took the spear from his bolster and the cruse of water to show he had been there. Once again Saul's heart gives way at David's nobleness: for when David and Abishai got away while Saul and his guards all slept, David calls to Abner (verse 14-25), and rebukes him for not having guarded his king better. "Art not thou a valiant man? Wherefore, then, hast thou not kept thy lord the king? The thing is not good that thou hast done: As the Lord liveth, ye are worthy to die, because you have not kept your master, the Lord's anointed. And now see where the king's spear is, and the cruse of water that was at his bolster. And Saul knew David's voice, and said, Is this thy voice, my son David? And David said, It is my voice, my lord, O king. Wherefore does my lord then thus pursue after his servant? for what have I done? Now therefore, let not my blood fall to the earth, for the king of Israel is come out to seek a flea, as when one doth hunt a partridge. Then said Saul, I have sinned: return, my son David, for I will no more do thee harm, because my soul was precious in thine eyes. Behold, I have played the fool, and have erred exceedingly." But David can trust him no longer. Weak, violent, and capricious, Saul's repentance is real for the time, but it does not last. He means what he says at the moment; but when some fresh base suspicion crosses his mind, his promises and his repentance are all forgotten. A terrible trial it is to David, to have his noble forgiveness and forbearance again and again bring forth no fruit--to have to do with a man whom he cannot trust. There are few sorer trials than that for living man. Few which tempt him more to throw away faith and patience, and say, "I cannot submit to this misconduct over and over again. It must end, and I will end it, by some desperate action, right or wrong." And, in fact, it does seem as if David was very near yielding to temptation, the last and worst temptation which befalls men in his situation--to turn traitor and renegade, to go over to the enemies of his country and fight with them against Saul. That has happened too often to men in David's place; who have so ended a glorious career in shame and confusion. And we find that David does at last very nearly fall into it. It creeps on him, little by little, as it has on other men in his place, but it does creep on. He loses patience and hope. He says, I shall perish one day by the hand of Saul, and he goes down into the low country, to the Philistines, whose champion, Goliath, he had killed, and makes friends with them. And Achish, king of Gath, gives him a town called Ziklag, to live in, he and his men. From it he goes out and attacks the wild Arabs, the Amalekites. And then he tells lies to Achish, saying, that he has been attacking his own countrymen, the Jews. And by that lie he brings himself into a very great strait--as all men who tell lies are sure to do. When Achish and his Philistines go next to fight against the Jews, Achish asks David and his men to go with him and his army. And then begins a very dark story. What David meant to do we are not told; but one thing is clear, that whatever he did, he must have disgraced himself for ever, if God had not had mercy on him. He is forced to go. For he can give no reason why he should not. So he goes; and in the rear with the Philistine king, in the post of honour, as his bodyguard. What is he to do? If he fights against his own people, he covers himself with eternal shame, and loses his chance of ever being king. If he turns against Achish and his Philistines in the battle he covers himself with eternal shame likewise, for they had helped him in his distress, and given him a home. But God has mercy on him. The lords of the Philistines take offence at his being there, and say that he will play traitor to them in the battle (which was but too likely), and force king Achish to send him home to Ziklag, and so God delivers him out of the trap which he has set for himself, by lying. But God punishes him on the spot. When he comes back to his town, it is burnt with fire, utterly desolate, a heap of blackened ruins, without a living soul therein. And now the end is coming, though David thinks not of it. He had committed his cause to God. He had said, when Saul lay sleeping at his feet, and Abishai would have smitten him through, "Who can stretch forth his hand against the Lord's anointed. As the Lord liveth, the Lord shall smite him, or he shall come to die, or he shall go down into battle and perish." And on the third day a man--a heathen Amalekite--comes to Ziklag to David with his clothes rent, and earth upon his head. Israel has been defeated in Mount Gilboa with a great slaughter. The people far and wide have fled from Hermon across the plain, and the Philistines have taken possession, cutting the land of Israel in two. And Saul and Jonathan, his son, are dead. The Amalekite has proof of it. There is the crown which was on Saul's head, and the bracelet that was on his arm. He has brought them to David to curry favour with him. Saul, he says, was wounded, and asked him to kill him (2 Sam. i. 6-10). It is a lie. Saul had killed himself, falling on his own sword, to escape torture and insult from the Philistines, and the Amalekite is caught in his own trap. Out of his own mouth will David judge him. How dare he stretch forth his hand against the Lord's anointed? Let one of the young men fall on him, and kill him. And so the wretch dies. And then bursts forth all the nobleness of David's heart. He thinks of Saul no longer as the tyrant who has hunted him for years, who has put on him the last and worst insult of taking away his wife, and giving her to another man. He thinks of him only as his master, his king, the grand and terrible warrior, the terror of Ammonites, Amalekites, and Philistines, the deliverer of his country in many a bloody fight, and he bursts out into that fine old lamentation over Saul and Jonathan, sentences of which have been proverbs in the mouths of men to this day. "How are the mighty fallen! Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon; lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph. Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain, upon you, nor fields of offerings: for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul returned not empty. Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided: they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you in scarlet, with other delights, who put on ornaments of gold upon your apparel. How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of woman. How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!" (2 Sam. i. 19-27). Let each and every one of us, my friends, imitate David's loyalty, and be true to our duty, true to our masters, true to our country and true to our queen, through whatever trials and temptations. Above all, let us learn from David to obey; and remember that to obey we need not become cringing and slavish, or give up independence and high spirit. David did neither. Unless you learn to obey, as David did, you will never learn to rule. Imitate David--and so you will imitate David's greater son, even our Lord Jesus Christ. For herein David is a type of Christ. One might say truly that David's spirit was in Christ--if the very opposite was not the fact, that the spirit of Christ was in David, even the spirit of loyalty and obedience, toward God and man. The spirit which made our Lord fulfil the whole law of Moses--though quite unnecessary, of course, for him--simply because He had chosen to be born a Jew, under Moses' law; the spirit which made Him obedient to the ordinance of the country in which He was born, made Him even pay tribute to Caesar, the heathen conqueror, because the powers that ruled, were ordained of God. And yet that same spirit kept Him lofty and independent, high-minded and pure-minded. He could tell the people to observe and to do all that the scribes and Pharisees told them to do, because they sat in Moses' seat, and yet He could call those very scribes and Pharisees hypocrites, who made the law of no effect, and were bringing on themselves utter destruction. That spirit, too, made Him loyal and obedient to God His Father in heaven. Doing not His own will, but the will of the Father who sent Him. Of Him it is written, that though He were a Son, yet learned He "obedience by the things which He suffered;" and that He received the perfect reward of perfect loyalty, because He had humbled and emptied Himself, and became obedient unto death even the death of the cross. Therefore God highly exalted Him, and gave Him a name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, of things in the earth, and things under the earth, and every tongue confess that He is Lord and God, to the glory of God the Father. This is a great mystery! How can we understand it? How can we understand the Divine and eternal bond between Father and Son? But this at least we can understand, that loyalty and obedience are Divine virtues, part of the likeness of Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, and therefore divine graces, the gift of God's holy Spirit. May God pour out upon us that Spirit, as He poured it out on David, and make us loyal and obedient to our queen, and to all whom He has set over us; and loyal and obedient above all to Christ our heavenly king, and to God the Father, in whom we live, and move, and have our being. XV. DAVID'S DEATH SONG. "And David spake unto the Lord the words of this song in the day that the Lord had delivered him out of the hand of all his enemies, and out of the hand of Saul: And he said, The Lord is my rock, and my fortress and my deliverer; the God of my rock; in him will I trust: he is my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my high tower, and my refuge, my saviour; thou savest me from violence."--2 SAM. xxii. 1-3. This is the death song of David; the last words of the great man--warrior, statesman, king, poet, prophet. A man of many joys and many sorrows, many virtues, and many crimes; but through them all, every inch a man. A man--heaped by God with every gift of body, and mind, and heart, and especially with strong and deep intense feeling. Right or wrong, he is never hard, never shallow, never light-minded. He is in earnest. Whatever happens to him, for good or evil, goes to his heart, and fills his whole soul, till it comes out again in song. This it is which makes David the Psalmist. This it is which makes the Psalter a text book still for every soldier or sailor, for all men who have human hearts in them. This it is which will make his psalms live for ever. Because they are full of humanity, of the spirit of man, awakened and enlightened, and ennobled, by the Spirit of God. Looking through these psalms of David, one is struck with astonishment at their variety. At what is called the versatility of his mind, that is, his ability to turn himself to every kind of subject, as it comes before him, and to sing of it--as man has never sung since. And one is the more astonished, when one remembers that many of the most beautiful of these Psalms must have been written while David was still a very young man. Though we have them, of course, only in a translation--though many of the words and phrases in them are difficult, sometimes impossible to understand, though they were written in a kind of verse which would give our English ears no pleasure, and were set to a music so utterly different from our own, that it would not sound like music to us. Yet, with all these disadvantages, they are beautiful as they stand, they sink into the ear, and into the heart, as what they are, the words of one inspired by God, who found beauty in every sight which he beheld, in every event which happened, even in every sorrow and every struggle in his own soul, and could sing of each and all of them in words and thoughts fresh from God, the fountain of all beauty and all truth. But the peculiarity of David's psalms, after all, is from his intense faith in God. God is in all his thoughts. God is near him, guiding him, trying him, educating him, punishing him, sometimes he thinks for a moment, deserting him. But even then his mind is still full of God. It is God he wants, and the light of God's countenance, without which he cannot live, and leaving him in misery, and shame, and darkness, and out of the darkness he cries--My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? And, therefore, everything which happens to him shapes itself not into mere poetry, but into a prayer, or a hymn. It is this which has made David for Christians now, as well as for Jews of old, the great master and teacher of heart religion. In the early church, in the middle ages, as now, Catholic alike and Protestant, whosoever has feared God and sought after righteousness; whosoever has known and sorrowed over the sinfulness and weakness of his own heart; whosoever has believed that the Lord God was dealing with him as with a son, educating him, chastening him, purifying him and teaching him, by the chances and changes of his mortal life; whosoever, I say, has had any real taste of vital experimental religion--to David's Psalms he has gone, as to a treasure house, to find there his own feelings, his own doubts, his own joys, his own thoughts of God and His providence--reflected as in a glass; everything which he would say, said for him already, in words which will never be equalled on earth. There are psalms among them of bitter agony, cries as of a lost child, like that 6th psalm--"Oh Lord, rebuke me not in Thine anger, neither chasten me in Thy hot displeasure," &c. And yet ending like that, with a sudden flash of faith, and hope, and joy, which is a peculiar mark of David's character, faith in God triumphing over all the chances and changes of mortal life. "The Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping. The Lord will receive my prayer, all mine enemies shall be confounded and sore vexed. They shall be turned back and put to shame." There are psalms again which are prayers for guidance and teaching like the 5th Psalm--"Lead me, O Lord, in thy righteousness because of mine enemies: make thy way plain before my face." There are psalms, again, of Natural Religion, such as the 8th and the 19th and the 29th, the words of a man who had watched and studied nature by day and night, as he kept his sheep upon the mountains, and wandered in the desert with his men. "I will consider thy heavens, the works of thy hand, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained . . . the fowls of the air and the fishes of the sea" . . . (Ps. viii. 3-8). "The heavens declare the glory of God: and the firmament sheweth his handi- work" (Ps. xix. 1-6). "It is the Lord that commandeth the water: it is the glorious God that maketh the thunder: it is the Lord that ruleth the sea: the voice of the Lord breaketh the cedar trees: the voice of the Lord divideth the flames of fire: the voice of the Lord shaketh the wilderness: the Lord sitteth above the water flood," &c. (Ps. xxix.). There are psalms of deep religious experience like the 32d.--"Blessed is he whose unrighteousness is forgiven, and whose sin is covered . . . Thou art a place to hide me in. . . . Thy hand is heavy upon me day and night . . . I will acknowledge my sin unto Thee." There are psalms, and these are almost the most important of all, such as the 9th, the 24th and 36th Psalms, which declare the providence and the kingdom of the Living God, with that great and prophetic 2d Psalm (ver. 1- 5): "Why do the heathen so furiously rage together, and the people imagine vain things. The kings of the earth stand up, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord, and against his anointed," &c. There are psalms of deep repentance, of the broken and the contrite heart, like that famous 51st Psalm, which is used in all Christian churches to this day, as the expression of all true repentance, and which, even in our translation, by its awful simplicity, its slow sadness, expresses in its very sound the utterly crushed and broken heart. "Have mercy upon me, O God, after thy great goodness, according to the multitude of thy mercies do away mine offences. . . . Behold, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive. . . . The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit, a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise. . . ." Then there are psalms, like the 26th, of a manful and stately confidence. The words of one who is determined to do right, who feels that on the whole he is doing it, and is not ashamed to say so. "Be thou my judge, for I have walked innocently. . . . Examine and prove me: try out my reins and my heart. I have not dwelt with vain persons, neither will I have fellowship with the deceitful. . . . I have hated the congregation of the wicked. I have loved the habitation of thy house." There are political psalms, full of weighty advice, to his sons after him, like the 115th Psalm. There are psalms of the most exquisite tenderness, like the 23d Psalm, written perhaps while he himself was still a shepherd boy, and he looked upon his flocks feeding on the downs of Bethlehem, and sang, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," &c. And lastly, though I should not say lastly, for the variety of this wonderful man's psalms is past counting, there are psalms of triumph and thanksgiving, which are miracles of beauty and grandeur. Take, for instance, the 34th, one of the earliest, when David was not more than twenty-five years old, when Abimelech drove him away, and he departed and sang, "I will bless the Lord at all times. . . . My soul shall make her boast in the Lord. . . . I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me out of all my fear. Lo the poor man crieth and the Lord heareth him. . . . The angel of the Lord tarrieth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them." And, as the grandest of all, as, indeed, it was meant to be, that wonderful 18th Psalm which David, the servant of the Lord, spake to the Lord in the day when the Lord delivered him out of the hand of all his enemies. "I will love thee, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my strong rock and defence: my Saviour, my God, and my might, in whom I will trust, my buckler, the horn also of my salvation, and my refuge." This is, indeed, David's masterpiece. The only one which comes near it is the 144th. The loftiest piece of poetry, taken as mere poetry, though it is more, much more, in the whole world. Even in our translation, it rushes on with a force and a swiftness, which are indeed divine. Thought follows thought, image image, verse verse, before the breath of the Spirit of God, as wave leaps after wave before a mighty wind. Even now, to read that psalm rightly, should stir the heart like a trumpet. What must it have been like when sung by David himself? No wonder that those brave old Jews hung upon the lips of their warrior-poet and felt that the man who could sing to them of such thoughts, and not only sing them, but feel them likewise, was indeed a king and a prophet sent to them by God. A prophet, I say. They loved his songs not merely on account of the beauty of their poetry. Indeed, one hardly likes to talk of David's psalms as beautiful poetry. It seems unfair to them. For though they are beautiful poetry, they are far more, they are prophecy and preaching concerning God. They preach and declare to the Jews the Living God. They are the speech of a man whose thoughts and works were begun, continued, and ended in God. A man who knew that God was about his path, and about his bed, and spying out all his ways. A man whose one fixed idea was, that God was leading and guiding him through life. That idea, "The Lord leads me," is the key-note of David's psalms, and makes them what they are, an inspired revelation of Almighty God. But is that idea true? Of course, you answer, it is true, because it is in the Bible. But that is not the question. That is rather putting the question aside, which is, Do _we_ believe it to be true, and find it to be true? We believe that God was leading David because we read it in the Bible. But do we believe that God is leading _us_? If not, what is the use of our reading David's psalms, either in private or publicly in church every Sunday? You all know how largely we use them, but why? If we are not in the same case as David was, what right have we to take David's words into our mouths? We do not fancy that there is any magical virtue in repeating the same words, as foolish people used to repeat charms and spells. Our only right, our only excuse for saying or singing David's psalms in public or in private, must be, that as David was, so are we in this world, under the continual guidance of God. And therefore it is that the Church bids us to use these psalms in our devotions, day by day, all the year round--that we may know that our God is David's God, our temptations David's temptations, our fears David's fears, our hopes David's hopes, our struggles and triumphs over what is wrong in our hearts and in the world around us, are the same as David's. That we are not to fancy, because David was an inspired prophet, that therefore he was in a different case from us, of different passions from ours, or that his words are too sacred and holy for us to use. Not so, we are to believe the very contrary. We are to believe that no prophecy of Scripture is of any private interpretation--that is--has not merely to do with the man who spoke it first--but that because David spoke by the Spirit of God, who is no respecter of persons, therefore his words apply to you, and to me, and to every human being--that David is revealing to us the everlasting laws of God's Spirit, and of God's providence, whereby He works alike in every Christian soul, and then, therefore, whatever our sin may be, whatever our sorrows may be, whatever our station in life may be, we have a right to offer up to God our repentance, our doubts, our fears, our hopes, our thanksgivings, in the very words which David used two thousand years and more ago, certain that they are the right words, better words than we can find for ourselves, exactly fitting our own souls, and fitting too the mind and will of Almighty God, because they are inspired by the same Spirit of God who descended on us, when we were baptized unto Christ's Church. And for that, my friends, we have an example--as we have for everything else--in our Lord Jesus Christ Himself. For He, in the hour of His darkest agony, when He hung upon the cross for our sins, and the sin of all mankind, and when (worse than all other agony, or shame), there came over Him the deepest horror of all--the feeling, but for a moment, that God had forsaken Him--even then, He who spake as never man spake, did not disdain to use the words of David, and cry, in the opening verse of that 22d psalm, every line of which applies so strangely to Him himself, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" So did our Lord bequeath, as it were, with His dying breath, to all Christians for ever, as the fit and true expression of all that they should ever experience, the psalms of His great earthly ancestor, David, the sweet singer of Israel. My friends, neglect not that precious bequest of your dying Lord. Read those psalms, study them, tune your hearts and minds to them more and more; and you will find in them an inexhaustible treasury of wisdom, and comfort, and of the knowledge of God, wherein standeth your eternal life. XVI. AHAB AND MICAIAH--THE CHRISTIAN DEAD ALIVE FOE EVERMORE. "And the King of Israel said to Jehosaphat, There is yet one man, Micaiah the son of Imlah, by whom we may enquire of the Lord: but I hate him; for he doth not prophesy good concerning me, but evil." . . .--1 KINGS xxii. 8. If you read the story of Micaiah the Prophet, and King Ahab in the 22d chapter of the 1st Book of Kings, you will, I think, agree that Ahab showed himself as foolish as he was wicked. He hated Micaiah for telling him the truth. And when he heard the truth and was warned of his coming end, he went stupidly to meet it, and died as the fool dies. Foolishness and wickedness often go hand in hand. Certainly they did in that miserable king's case. But now, my friends, while we find fault with wretched Ahab, let us take care that we are not finding fault with ourselves also. If we do what Ahab did, we have no right to despise him for doing what we do. With what judgment we judge we shall be judged, and the same measure which we measure out to Ahab, God will measure out to us. All these things are written for our example, that we may see our faults in other men, as in a glass, and seeing how ugly sin and folly is, and to what misery it leads, may learn to avoid it, and look at home, and see that we are not treading the same path. Else what use in reading these stories of good men and bad men of old times? The very use of them is to make us remember that they were men of like passions with ourselves, and learn from their example; as we may do easily enough from that of Ahab. "There remaineth yet one prophet--but I hate him." How often have we said that in our hearts! Do you think not? Let me show you then. How often when we are in trouble or anxiety do we go everywhere to get comfort, before we go to God's word? When a young lad falls into wild ways, and gets into trouble by his own folly, then to whom does he go for comfort? Too often, to other wild lads like himself, or to foolish and wicked women, who will flatter him, and try to make him easy in his sins, and say to him as the false prophets said to Ahab, "Go on and prosper--why be afraid? Why should you not enjoy yourself? Never mind what your father and mother say, never mind what the parson says. You will do well enough. All will come right somehow. Come and drink, and drive away sorrow." And all the while the poor lad gets no comfort from these false friends. He likes to listen to them, because they flatter him up in his sins; but all the while his heart is heavy. Like Ahab, he has a secret fear that all will _not_ come right; he feels that he will _not_ do well enough; and he knows that there remaineth yet a prophet of the Lord, who will not prophesy good of him but evil--and that is the Bible, and the prayer-book, and the sermon he hears at church--and therefore he hates them. And so, many a time he will not go to church for fear of hearing there that he is wrong, perhaps something in the sermon, which hits him hard, and makes him ashamed of himself, and angry with the preacher. So for fear of hearing the truth, and having his sins set before his face, he stays away from church, and passes his Sundays like a heathen, because he has no mind to repent and mend, and be a good Christian. Foolish fellow! As if he could escape God's judgment by shutting his ears to it. As well try to stop the thunder from rolling in the sky, by stopping his ears to that! The thunder is there, whether he choose to hear it or not. And whether he comes to church or not, God's law stands sure, that the wages of sin is death. Does the man fancy that God's law is shut up within the church walls, and that so he can keep clear of it by staying away from church? My friends, God's law is over the whole country, and over every cottage and field in it--about our path and about our bed, and spying out all our ways. The darkness is no darkness to God. God's judgments are in all the earth; and whether or not we choose to find them out, they will find us out just the same, as they found out Ahab, when his cup was full, and his time was come. How many a poor lad, too, who has got into trouble, thinks he shall escape God's judgments by going across the sea; but he finds himself mistaken! He finds that the wages of sin are misery and shame and ruin, in Australia just as much as in England, and that all the gold in the diggings cannot redeem his soul, or prevent his being an unhappy self- condemned man if he does wrong. How many a poor lad, too, who has got into trouble, has fancied that he could escape God's judgments by going for a soldier, and has found out that he too was mistaken! Perhaps God's judgment has found him out, as it found out Ahab, on the field of battle, and a chance shot has taught him, as it taught Ahab, that there is no hiding-place from the Lord who made him. Or perhaps God's judgments have come in fever, and hunger, and cold, and weariness, and miserable lonely labour; and with that hunger of body has come a hunger of his soul--a hunger after the bread of life, and the word of God! Ah! how many a poor fellow in his pain and misery has longed for the crumbs which used to fall from God's table, when he was a boy at home! for a word of good advice, though it were never so sharp and plain spoken--or a lesson such as he used to hear at school, or a tract, or a bit of a book, or anybody or anything which will put his poor wandering soul in the right way. He used to hate such things when he was at home, because they warned him of his bad ways; but now he feels a strange longing for that very good talk which he hated once, and so like David of old, out of the deep he cries unto the Lord. And when that cry comes up out of a sinful conscience-stricken, self-condemned heart, be sure it does not come up in vain. The Lord hears it, and the Lord answers it. Yes, I know it for certain; for many a sad and yet pleasant story I have heard, how brave men who went out from England, full of strength and health, and full of sin and folly too,--and there in that blood-stained Crimea, when their strength and their health had faded, and there was nothing round them or before them but wounds, and misery, and death; how there at last they found Christ, or rather were found by Him, and opened their eyes at last to see God's judgments for their sins, and confessed their own sin and God's justice, and received His precious promises of pardon, even in the agonies of death; and found amid the rage and noise of war, the peace of God, which this world's pleasures never gave them, and which this world's wounds, and fever, and battle, and sudden death cannot take away. And after that, it matters little for a man what happens to him. For if he lives, he lives unto the Lord; and if he dies, he dies unto the Lord. He may come home, well and strong, once more to do his duty, where God has put him, a sadder man perhaps, but at least a soberer and a wiser man, who has learnt to endure hardship, not merely as a soldier of the Queen, but as a good soldier of Jesus Christ too, ready to fight against sin and wrong-doing in himself and in his neighbours. Or he may come home a cripple, to be honoured and to be kept too (as he deserves to be) at his country's expense. But if he be a wise man he will not regret even the loss of a limb. That is a cheap price to pay for having gained what is worth all the limbs in a man's body, a clear conscience and a right life. "If thy hand offend thee cut it off." Better to enter into life halt and maimed, as many a gallant man has done in war time, than having two hands and two feet to be cast out. Or perhaps his grave is left behind there, upon those lonely Crimean downs, and his comrades are returning without him, and all whom he knew, and all whom he loved, are looking for him at home. There his grave is, and must be; and "the foe and the stranger will tread on his head, and they far away on the billow." But at least he has not died like Ahab--a shameful and pitiable death. He has done his work and conquered. He has died like a man, whom men honour. Even so it is well. And if he have died in the Lord, a penitent Christian man, _he_ is not dead at all. _He_ does not lie in that grave in a foreign land. All of him that strangers' feet can tread upon is but what we called his body; and yet which was not even his body, but the mere husk and shell of him, the flesh and bones with which his body was clothed in this life; while he, he himself, is nearer God than ever, and nearer, too, than ever to his comrades who seem to have left him, and to the parents and the friends who are weeping for him at home. Ay, nearer to them, more able, I firmly believe, to help and comfort them, now that he is alive for ever, in the heaven of God, than he would if he were only alive here on the earth of God--more able perhaps to help them now by his prayers than he ever would have been by the labour of his hands. Be that as it may, Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, for they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them. A fearful labour is the soldier's, and an ugly work; and he has done it; and doubt not it has followed him, and is recorded for him in the book of God for ever! XVII. WHAT IS CHANCE? "By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, because all have sinned."--ROMANS v. 12. All death is a solemn and fearful thing. When it comes to an old person, one cannot help feeling it often a release, and saying, "He has done his work--he has sorrowed out his sorrows, he has struggled his last struggle, and wept his last tear: let him go to his rest and be peaceful at last." But when death comes suddenly to people in the prime of life, who but yesterday were as busy and as lively as any of us, and we are face to face with death, and see the same face we knew in life--not wasted, not worn, young and lusty as ever, seemingly asleep,--something at our heart as well as in our eyes, tells us that there is more than sleep in that strange, sharp, quiet smile--and we know in spite of ourselves that the man is dead. And then strange questions rise in us, "Is that he whom we knew? that still piece of clay, waiting only a few days before it returns to its dust? It is the face of him, the shape of him, it is what we knew him by. It is the very same body of which when we met it on the road we said, "He is coming." And yet is it _he_? Where is _he_ himself? Can _he_ hear us? Can _he_ see us? Does _he_ remember us as we remember _him_? Surely he must. He cannot be gone away--there he lies still on that bed before us!" And then we are ready to say to ourselves, "It must be a mistake, a dream. He cannot be dead. He will wake. We shall meet him to-morrow in his old place, about his old work. _He_ dead? Impossible! Impossible to believe that we shall never see him again--never any more till we too die!" And then when such thoughts come over us, we cannot help going on to say, "What is this death? this horrible thing which takes husbands from their wives, and children from their parents, and those who love from those who love them? What is it? How came this same death loose in the world? What right has it here, under the bright sun, among the pleasant fields, this cruel, pitiless death, destroying God's handi-work, God's likeness, just as it is growing to its prime of beauty and usefulness?" And then--there--by the bedside of the young at least, we do feel that death must be God's enemy--that it is a hateful, cruel, evil thing--accursed in the sight of a loving, life-giving God, as much as it is hated by poor mortal man. And then, we feel, there must be something wrong between man and God. Man must be fallen and corrupt, must be out of his right place and state in some way or other, or this horrible death would not have got power over us! What right has death in the world, if man has not sinned or fallen? And then we cannot help going further and saying, "This cruel death! it may come to me, young, strong, and healthy as I am. It may come to-morrow; it may come this minute; it may come by a hundred diseases, by a hundred accidents, which I cannot foresee or escape, and carry me off to-morrow, away from all I know and all I love, and all I like to see and to do. And where would it take me to, if it did take me? What should I be? What should I see? What should I know, after they had put this body of mine into that narrow house in the church-yard, and covered it out of sight till the judgment day?" Oh, my friends, what a thought for you, and me, and every human being! We might die to-night, even as those whom we know of died! But perhaps some of you young people are saying to yourselves, "You are trying to frighten us, but you shall not frighten us. We know very well that it is not a common thing for a young person to die--not one in a hundred (except in a war time) dies in the prime of his years; and therefore the chances are that we shall not die young either. The chances are that we shall live to be old men and women, and we are not going to be frightened about dying forty years before our death. So in the meanwhile we will go our own way and enjoy ourselves. It will be time enough to think of death when death draws near." Well then, if you have these thoughts, I will ask you, what do you mean by _chance_? You say, the _chances_ are against your dying young. Pray what are these wonderful things called chances, which are to keep you alive for thirty or forty or fifty years more? Did you ever _hear_ a chance, or _see_ a chance? Or did you ever meet with any one who had? Did any one ever see a great angel called Chance flying about keeping people from dying? What is _chance_ on which you depend as you say for your life? What is _chance_ which you fancy so much stronger than God? For as long as the _chance_ is against your dying, you are not afraid of neglecting God and disobeying God, and therefore you must suppose that _chance_ is stronger than God, and quite able to keep God's anger off from you for thirty or forty years, till you choose to repent and amend. What sort of thing is this wonderful chance, which is going to keep you alive? Perhaps you will say, "All we meant when we said that the chances were against our dying was that God's will was against our dying." Did you only mean that? Then why put the thought of God away by foolish words about chance? For you know that it is God and God only who keeps you alive. You must look at that, you must face that. If you are alive now, God keeps you so. If you live forty years more, God will make you live that time. And He who can make you live, can also let you _not_ live; and then you will die. God can withdraw the breath of life from you or me or any one at any moment. And then where would our _chances_ of not dying be? We should die here and now, and know that God is the Lord and not _chance_ . . . But think again. If God makes you alive He must have some reason for making you alive. For mind--it is not as you fancy, that when God leaves you alone you live, and when He puts forth His power and visits you, you die. _Not that_, _but the very opposite_. For in Adam all die. Our bodies are dead by reason of sin, and in the midst of life we are in death. There is a seed of death in you and me and every little child. While we are eating and drinking and going about our business, fancying that we cannot help living, we carry the seeds of disease in our own bodies, which will surely kill us some day, even if we are not cut off before by some sudden accident. That is true, physicians know that it is true. Our bodies carry in them from the very cradle the seeds of death; and therefore it is not because God leaves us alone that we live. We live because God, our merciful heavenly Father, _does not_ leave us alone, but keeps down those seeds of disease and death by His Spirit, who is the Lord and Giver of Life. God's Spirit of Life is fighting against death in our bodies from the moment we are born. And then, as Moses says, when He withdraws that Spirit of His, then it is that we die and are turned again to our dust. So that our living a long time or a short time, does not depend on CHANCE, or on our own health or constitution, but entirely on how long God may choose to keep down the death which is lying in us, ready to kill us at any moment, and certain to kill us sooner or later. And yet people fancy that they live because they cannot help living, unless God interferes with them and makes them die. They fancy, thoughtless and ignorant as they are, that when they are in _health_, God leaves them alone, and that therefore when they are in health they may leave God alone. My friends, I tell you that it is God, and not our constitution or chance either which keeps you alive; as you will surely find out the moment after the last breath has left your body. And therefore I ask you solemnly the plain question, "For what does God keep you alive?" _For what_? Will a man keep plants in his garden which bear neither fruit nor flowers? Will a man keep stock on his farm which will only eat and never make profit; or a servant in his house who will not work? Much more, will a man keep a servant who will not only be idle himself, but quarrel with his fellow servants, lead them into sin and shame, and teach them to disobey their master? What man in his senses would keep such plants, such stock, such servants? And yet God keeps hundreds and thousands in His garden and in His house for years and years, while they are doing no good to Him, and doing harm to those around them. How many are there who never yet did one thing to make their companions better, and yet have done many a thing to make their companions worse! Then why are they alive still? Why does not God rid Himself of them at once and let them die, instead of cumbering the ground? I know but one reason. If they were only God's plants, or His stock, or His servants, He might rid Himself of them. But they are something far nearer and dearer to Him than that. They are His children, and therefore He has mercy on them. They are redeemed by the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ, the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world; and therefore for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ, God looks on them with long-suffering and tender loving-kindness. Man was made in God's likeness at first, and was the son of God. And therefore howsoever fallen and corrupt man's nature is now, yet God loves him still, even though he be a heathen or an infidel. How much more for you, my friends, who know that you are God's children, who have been declared to be His children by Holy Baptism, and grafted into Christ's church. You at least are bound to believe that God preserves you from death, _because He loves you_. He protects you every day and every hour, as a father takes care of His children, and keeps them out of dangers which they cannot see or understand. Yes! this is plain truth--your heavenly Father is keeping you alive! Oh, do not make that truth an excuse for forgetting and disobeying your heavenly Father! Why does He keep you alive? Surely because He expects something of you. And what does He expect of you? What does any good father expect of his children? Why does he help and protect them? Not from mere brute instinct, as beasts take care of their young when they are little, and then as soon as they are grown up cast them off and forget them. No. He takes care of his children because he wishes them to grow up like himself, to be a comfort and a help and a pride to him. And God takes care of _you_ and keeps you from death, for the very same reason. God desires that you should grow up like Himself, godly and pure, leading lives like His Son Jesus Christ. God desires that you should grow up to the stature of perfect men and women, which is the likeness of Jesus Christ your Lord. But if you turn God's grace in keeping you alive into a cloak for licentiousness and an excuse for sinning--if, when God keeps you alive that you may lead _good_ lives, you take advantage of His fatherly love to lead _bad_ lives--if you go on returning God evil for good, and ungratefully and basely presume on His patience and love to do the things which He hates, what must you expect? God loves you, and you make that an excuse for not loving Him; God does everything for you, and you make that an excuse for doing nothing for God; God gives you health and strength, and you make that an excuse for using your health and strength just in the way He has forbidden. What can be more ungrateful? What can be more foolish? Oh, my friends, if one of our children behaved to us in return for our care and love a hundredth part as shamefully as most of us behave to God our Father, what should we think of them? What should we say of them? Oh, beware, beware! God is a righteous God, strong and patient, and God is provoked every day, and bears it according to His boundless love and patience. But "if a man _will not_ turn," says the same text, "He will whet His sword." And then--woe to the careless and ungrateful sinner. God will cut him down and bring him low. God will take from him his health, or his money, or his blind peace of mind; and by affliction after affliction, and shame after shame, and disappointment after disappointment, teach him that his youth, and his health, and his money, and all that he has, are his Father's gifts and not his own property--and that His Father will take them away from him, till he feels his own weakness, till he sees that he is really not his own but God's property, body and soul, and goes back to his heavenly Father and cries, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before Thee, and am no more worthy to be called Thy son. I have taken Thy gifts and gone away with them from Thy house unto the far country of sin, and wasted them in riotous living, till I have had to fill my belly with the husks which the swine did eat. I have had no profit out of all my sins, of which I am now ashamed. I have robbed Thee and abused Thy gifts and Thy love. Father, take me back, for I have sinned, and am not worthy to be called Thy child." XVIII. EARTHLY AND HEAVENLY WISDOM; OR, STOOP TO CONQUER. "The Lord by wisdom hath founded the earth; by understanding hath he established the heavens."--PROV. iii. 19. Did it ever strike you as a very remarkable and important thing, that after saying in Proverbs iii. that Wisdom is this precious treasure, and bidding his son seek for her because (verse 16) "Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and honour: Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace,"--Solomon goes on immediately to say (verses 19, 20), "The Lord by Wisdom hath founded the earth, and established the heavens?" By Wisdom: by the very same Wisdom, Solomon says, which is to give men length of days, and riches, and honour. Is not this curious at least? That there is but one wisdom for God and man? That man's true wisdom is a pattern of God's wisdom? That a man to prosper in the world must get the very same wisdom by which God made and rules the world? Curious. But most blessed news, my friends, if we will think over what it means. I will try to explain it to you: first, as to this world which we see; next, as to the heavenly world of spirits which we do not see. You have, many of you, heard the word "Science." Many of you of course know what it means. That it means wisdom and learning about this earth and all things in it. Many more of you of course know that in the last hundred years science has improved in a most wonderful way, and is improving every day; that we have now gas-lights, steam-engines, cotton- mills, railroads, electric telegraphs, iron ships, and a hundred curious and useful machines and manufactures of which our great-grandfathers never dreamed; that our knowledge of different countries, of medicines, of the laws of health and disease, and of all in short which has to do with man's bodily life, is increasing day by day; and that all these discoveries are very great blessings; they give employment and food to millions who would otherwise have had nothing to do; they bring vast wealth into this country, and all the countries which trade with us. They enable this land of England to support four times as many human beings as it did two hundred years ago; they make many of the necessaries of life cheaper, so that in many cases a poor man may now have comforts which his grandfather never heard of. I know that there is a dark side to this picture; that with all this increase of wisdom, there has come conceit, and trust in deceitful riches, and want of trust in God, and obedience to His law. I know that in some things we are not better, but worse than our forefathers; God forgive us for it! But the good came from God; and that man is very unwise and unthankful too, who despises God's great gift of science, because fallen man has defiled His gift as it passed through his unclean hands. Look only at this one thing, as I said just now, that by all these wonderful discoveries and improvements, England is able to support four times as many Englishmen as it used of old, and that, if we feared God, and sought His kingdom better, I believe, England would support many more people yet--and see if _that_ be not a thing to thank Almighty God for every day of our lives. Now how did this wonderful change and improvement take place--suddenly, and, as it were, in the course of the last hundred years? Simply by mankind understanding the text (Prov. iii. 19), and by obeying it. I tell you a real truth, my friends, and it happened thus. For more than sixteen hundred years after our Lord's time, mankind seem to have become hardly any wiser about earthly things, nay, even to have gone back. The land was no better tilled; goods were no more easily made; diseases were no better cured, than they had been sixteen hundred years before. And if any learned men longed to become very wise and cunning, and to get power over this world and the things in it, they flew off to witchcraft, charms, and magic, deceived by the devil's old lie, that the kingdom and the power and the glory of this world belonged to him and not to God. But about two hundred and fifty years ago, it pleased God to open the eyes of one of the wisest men who ever lived, who was called Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, Lord Chancellor of England, and to show him the real and right way of learning by which men can fulfil God's command to replenish the earth and subdue it. And Francis Bacon told all the learned men boldly that they had all been wrong together, and that their wisdom was no better than a sort of madness, as it is written, "The wisdom of man is foolishness with God;" that the only way for man to be wise was to get God's wisdom, the wisdom with which He had founded the earth, and find out God's laws by which He had made this world. "And then," he said, "if you can do that, you will be able to imitate God in your own small way. If you learn the laws by which God made all things, you will be able to invent new things for yourselves. _For you can only subdue nature by obeying her_." That was one of his greatest sayings, and by it he meant, that you can only subdue a thing and make it useful to you, by finding out the rules by which God made that thing, and by obeying them. For instance, you cannot subdue and till a barren field, and make it useful, without knowing and obeying the laws and rules of that soil; and then you can subdue and conquer that field, and change and train it, as I may say, to grow what you like. You cannot conquer diseases without knowing and obeying the laws by which God has made man's body, and the laws by which fever and cholera and other plagues come. Let me give you another instance. You all have seen lightning conductors, which prevent tall chimneys and steeples from being struck by storms, so that the lightning runs harmless downward. Now we can all see how this is conquering the force of lightning in a wonderful and beautiful way. But before you can conquer the lightning by a conductor, you must obey the lightning and its laws most carefully. If you make the conductor out of your own head and fancy, it will be of no use. You must observe and follow humbly the laws which God has given to the lightning. You must make the conductor of metal wire, or it will be useless. You must make it run through glazed rings, or it will be only more dangerous than no conductor at all; for God who made the lightning chose that it should be so, and you must _obey_ if you wish to _conquer_. Man could not conquer steam, and make it drive his engines and carry his ships across the seas, till he found out and obeyed the laws which God had given to steam; and so without breaking the laws, man turned them to his own use, and set the force of steam to turn his machines, instead of rushing idly out into the empty air. So it is with all things, whether in heaven or earth. If you want to rule, you must obey. If you want to rise to be a master, you must stoop to be a servant. If you want to be master of anything in earth or heaven, you must, as that great Lord Verulam used to say, obey God's will revealed in that thing; and the man who will go his own way, and follow his own fancy, will understand nothing, and master nothing, and get comfort out of nothing in earth or heaven. Well--when Lord Verulam told men his new wisdom, they laughed and scoffed, as fools always will at anything new. But one by one, wise men tried his plan, and found him right, and went on; and from that time those who followed Lord Verulam began discovering wonders of which they had never dreamed, and those who did not, but kept to the old way of witchcraft and magic, found out nothing, and made themselves a laughing stock. And after a while witchcraft vanished out of all civilised countries, and in its place came all the wonderful comforts and discoveries which we have now, and which under God, we owe to the wisdom of the great Lord Verulam. Cotton mills, steam engines, railroads, electric telegraphs, sanitary reforms, cheap books, penny postage, good medicine and surgery, and a thousand blessings more. That great Lord Chancellor has been the father of them all. And a noble thought it is for us Church people, and a glorious testimony to the good training which the Church of England gives, that the three men, who more than any others laid the foundation of all our wonderful discoveries, I mean Lord Verulam, Mr. Boyle, and Sir Isaac Newton, were all of them heart and soul members of the Church of England. I said just now that the man who will not obey, will never rule; that the man who will not stoop to be a servant, will never rise to be a master; that the man who neglects God's will and mind about things, and will follow his own will and fancy, will understand nothing, and master nothing, and get comfort out of nothing, either in earth or heaven. Either in earth or heaven, I say. For the same rule which holds good in this earthly world, which we do see, holds good in the heavenly world which we do not see. Solomon does not part the two worlds, and I cannot. Solomon says the same rules which hold good about men's bodies, hold good about their souls. The great Lord Verulam used always to say the same, and we must believe the same. For see, Solomon says, that this same wisdom by which God made the worlds, will help our souls as well as our bodies; that it is not merely the earthly wisdom which brings a man length of life and riches, but heavenly wisdom, which is a tree of life to every one who lays hold of her (Prov. iii. 18). The heavenly wisdom which begins in trusting in the Lord with all our heart, the heavenly wisdom which is learnt by chastenings and afflictions, and teaches us that we are the sons of God, is the very same wisdom by which God founded the earth, and makes the clouds drop down dew! Strange at first sight; but not strange if we remember the Athanasian creed, and believe that God is one God, who has no parts or passions, and therefore cannot change or be divided. Yes, my friends, God's wisdom is one--unchangeable, everlasting, and always like itself; and by the same wisdom by which He made the earth and the heavens, by the same wisdom by which He made our bodies, has He made our souls; and therefore we can, and are bound to, glorify Him alike in our bodies and our spirits, for both are His. It may not seem easy to understand this; but I will explain what I mean by an example. I just told you, that in earthly matters we must stoop to conquer; we must obey the laws which God has given to anything, before we can master and use that thing. And in matters about our own soul--about our behaviour to God--about our behaviour to our fellow-men, believe me there is no rule like the golden one of Lord Verulam's--stoop to conquer--obey if you wish to rule. For see now. What is there more common than this? It happens to each of us every day. We meet a fellow- man our equal, neither better nor worse than ourselves, and we want to make him do something. Now there are two ways in which we may set about that. We may drive our man, or we may lead him. You know well enough which of those two ways is likely to succeed best. If you try to drive the man, you say to yourself, "I know I am right. I see the thing in this light, and he is a fool if he does not see it in the same light. I choose to have the thing done, and done it shall be, and if he is stupid enough not to take my view of it, I will let him know who I am, and we will see which of us is the stronger!" So says many a man in his heart. But what comes of it? Nothing. For the other man gets angry, and determines to have his way in his turn. There is a quarrel and a great deal of noise; and most probably the thing is not done. Instead of the man getting what he wants, he has a fresh quarrel on his hands, and nothing more. So his blustering is no sign that he is really strong. For the strong man is the man who _can_ get what he wants done. Is he not? Surely we shall all agree to that. And the proud, hot, positive, dictatorial, self-willed man is just the man, in a free country like this, who does _not_ get what he wants done. He will not stoop--therefore he will not conquer. But suppose we take another plan. Suppose instead of trying to drive, we try to lead. Suppose if we want a man to do anything, we begin by obeying him, and serving him, that we may afterwards lead him, and afterwards make use of him. There is a base, mean way of doing that, by flattering, and fawning, and cringing, which are certainly the devil's works. For the devil can put on the form of an angel of light; but we need not do that. We may serve and obey a man honestly and honourably, in order to get him to do what he ought to do. I will tell you what I mean. Suppose when we have dealings with any man, we begin with him, as I was saying we ought to begin with earthly things--with a field for instance--we should say, before I begin to make this field bear the crop I want I must look it through and understand it. I must see what state it is in--what its soil is--what has been taken off it already--what the weather is--what state of drainage it is in, and so forth; and I must obey the rules of all these things, or my crop will come to nothing. So with this man. First of all, before I get anything out of the man, I must understand the man. I must find out what sort of temper and character he has, what his opinions are, how he has been brought up, how he has been accustomed to look at things--so as to be able to make allowance for all, else I shall never be able to understand how he looks at this one matter, or to make him understand _my_ way of looking at it. And to do that--to understand the man, or make him understand me, I must begin by making a _friend_ of him. There, my friends--there is one of the blessed laws of the kingdom of Heaven, that in a free country (as this, thank God, is) the only sure way to get power and influence over people, is by making _friends_ of them, by behaving like Christians to them, making them trust you and love you, by pleasing them, giving way to them, making yourself of service to them, doing what they like whenever you can, in order that they may do to you, as you have done to them, and measure back to you (as the Lord Jesus promises they will), with the same measure with which you have measured to them. In short, serving men, that you may rule them, and stooping before them that you may conquer them. And if any of you are too proud to try this plan, and think it fairer to drive men than to lead them, I can tell you of two persons who were not as proud as you are, and were not ashamed to do what you are ashamed to do--and yet they are two persons, before the least of whom you would hang your head, and feel, as I am sure I should, a very small, and mean, and pitiful person if I met them in the road. For the first, and by far the least of the two, is St. Paul. Now St. Paul says this was the very plan by which he got influence over men, and persuaded and converted them, and brought them home to God, by being himself a servant to all men, and pleasing all men, being a Jew to the Jews, and a Greek to the Greeks, and all things to all men, if by any means he might save some. Giving up, giving way, taking trouble, putting himself out of the way, as we say here, all day long, to win people to love him, and trust him, and see that he really cared for them, and therefore to be ready to listen to him. From what one can see of St. Paul's manners, from his own Epistles, he must have been the most perfect gentleman; a gentle man, civil, obliging, delicate minded, careful to hurt no one's feelings; and when he had (as he had often) to say rough things and deal with rough men, doing it as tenderly and carefully as he could, like his Master the Lord Jesus Christ, lest he should break the bruised reed, or quench the smoking flax. Which of us can read the Epistle to Philemon (which to my mind is the most civil, pleasant, kindly, gentlemanlike speech which I know on earth), without saying to ourselves, "Ah, if we had but St. Paul's manners, St. Paul's temper, St. Paul's way of managing people, how few quarrels there would be in this noisy troublesome world." But I said that there was one greater than St. Paul who was not ashamed to behave in the very same way, stooping to all, conciliating all. And so there is--One whose shoes St. Paul was not worthy to stoop down and unloose--and that is, the Lord Jesus Christ Himself--who ate and drank with publicans and sinners, who went out into the highways and hedges, to bring home into God's kingdom poor wretches whom men despised and cast off. It was He who taught St. Paul to behave in the same way. May He teach us to behave in the same way also! St. Paul learnt to discern men's spirits, and feel for them, and understand them, and help them, and comfort them, and at last to turn and change them whichever way he chose, simply because he was full of the Spirit of Christ, who is the Spirit of God, proceeding both from the Father and the Son. For St. Paul says positively, that his reason for not pleasing himself, but taking so much trouble to please other people, was because Christ also pleased not Himself. "We that are strong," he says, "ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let every man please his neighbour for his good unto edification, for even Christ pleased not Himself," (Rom. xv. 1-3.) And again, "We have a High Priest who can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities," (Heb. iv. 15). So it was by stooping to men, that Christ learned to understand men, and by understanding men He was able to save men. And again, St. Paul says, "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who being in the form of God, and equal with God," yet--"made Himself of no reputation, but took upon Him the form of a slave, and was made in the likeness of man, and being found in fashion as a man, _humbled Himself_, and became _obedient unto death_, even the death of the cross," (Phil. ii. 5, 9, 10). There, my friends--there was the perfect fulfilment of the great law--_Stoop to conquer_. There was the reward of Christ's not pleasing Himself. Christ stooped lower than any man, and therefore He rose again higher than all men. He did more to please men than any man; and therefore God was better pleased with Him than with all men, and a voice came from Heaven, saying--This Person who stoops to the lowest depths that He may understand and help those who were in the lowest deep--this outcast who has not where to lay His head, slandered, blasphemed, spit on, scourged, crucified, because He will help all, and feel for all, and preach to all; "this is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased," (Matt. iii. 17). "The brightness of my glory,--the express image of my person," (Heb. i. 3). My friends, this may seem to you a strange sermon, which began by talking of railroads and steamships, and ends by talking of the death and the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ; and you may ask what has the end of it to do with the beginning? If you want to know, recollect that I began by saying that there was but _One_ wisdom for earth or heaven, for man and for God; and that is the wisdom which lies in _stooping to conquer_, as the Lord Jesus Christ did. Think over that, and behave accordingly; and be sure, meanwhile, that whenever you feel proud, and self-willed, and dictatorial, and inclined to drive men instead of leading them, and to quarrel with them, instead of trying to understand them and love them, and bring them round gently, by appealing to their reason and good feeling, not to their fear of you--then you are going not God's way, no, nor man's way either, but the devil's way. You are going, not the way by which the Lord Jesus Christ rose _to_ Heaven, but the way by which the devil fell _from_ Heaven, as all self-willed proud men will fall. Proud and self-willed men will not get done the things they want to be done; while the meek, those who are gentle, and tender, and try to draw men as God does with the cords of _a man_ and the bands of _love_, will prosper in this world and in the next; they will see their heart's desire; they will inherit the land, and be refreshed in the multitude of peace. XIX. IT IS GOOD FOR THE YOUNG TO REJOICE. "Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment."--ECCLESIASTES xi. 9. Some people fancy that in this text God forbids young people to enjoy themselves. They think that the words are spoken ironically, and with a sneer, as if to say, "Yes. Enjoy yourself if you will. Go your own way if you wish. Make a fool of yourself if you are determined to do so. You will repent it at last. You will be caught at last, and punished at last." Now, I cannot think that there would be in Scripture or in any word of God a sneer so cruel and so unjust as that. For surely it would be unjust of God, if after giving young people the power to be happy, He then punished them for being happy, for using the very powers which He had given them, obeying the very feelings which He had implanted in them, enjoying the very pleasures which He had put in their way. God cannot be a tempter, my friends. He does not surely send us into a world full of traps and snares, and then punish us for being caught in the very snares which He had set. God forbid. Let us never fancy such things of God the heavenly Father, from whom comes every good and perfect gift. Let us leave such fancies for soured and hard-hearted persons, who make a god in their own likeness--a god of darkness and not of light--a grudger and not a giver. And let us take this text literally and plainly as it stands, and see whether we cannot learn from it a really wholesome lesson. "Rejoice! oh, young man, in thy youth." The Bible tells you to rejoice, therefore do so without fear. God has given you health, strength, spirits, hope, the power of enjoyment. And why, save but that you may enjoy them, and rejoice in your youth? He has given you _more_ health, _more_ strength, more _spirits_, than you need to earn your daily bread, or to learn your daily task. And why? To enable you to _grow_ in body and in soul. And that you will only do if you are happy. The human soul, says a wise man, is like a plant, and requires _sunshine_ to make it grow and ripen. And the heavenly Father has given you sunshine in your hearts that you may grow into hearty, healthy-minded men. If young people have not sunshine enough, if they are kept down and crushed in youth by sorrow, by anxiety, by fear, by over-hard work, by too much study, by strict and cruel masters, by dark and superstitious notions about God's anger, by over-scrupulousness about this and that thing being sinful, then their souls and minds do not grow; they become more or less stunted, unhealthy, unhappy, slavish, and mean people in after-life, because they have not rejoiced in their youth as God intended them to do. Remember this, you parents, and be sure that all harshness and cruelty to your children, all terrifying of them, all over-working of them, body or mind, all making them unhappy by requiring of them more than the plain law of God requires; or by teaching them to dread, not to love, their Father in heaven--All these will stunt and hurt their characters in after- life; and all are, therefore, sins against their heavenly Father, who willeth not that one little one should perish, and who will require a strict account of each of us how we have brought up the children whom He has committed to our charge. Let their hearts cheer them in the days of their youth. They will have trouble enough, anxiety enough hereafter. Do not you forestall the evil days for them. The more cheerful their growth is the more heart and spirit they will have to face the trials and sorrows of life when they come. But further, the text says to the young man, Walk in the ways of thy heart. That is God's permission to free men, in a free country. You are not slaves either to man or to God; and God does not treat you as slaves, but as children whom He can trust. He says, Walk in the ways of thine own heart. Do what you will, provided it be not wrong. Choose your own path in life. Exert yourselves boldly to better yourselves in any path you choose, which is not a path of dishonesty and sin. Again, says the text, Walk in the sight of thine eyes. As your bodies are free, let your minds be free likewise. See for yourselves, judge for yourselves. God has given you eyes, brains, understanding; use them. Get knowledge for yourselves, get experience for yourselves. Educate and cultivate your own minds. Live, as far as you can, a free, reasonable, cheerful, happy life, enjoying this world, if you feel able to enjoy it. But know thou, that for all these things, God will bring thee into judgment. Ah! say some, there is the sting. How can we enjoy ourselves if we are to be brought into judgment after all? My friends, before I answer that question, let me ask one. Do you look on God as a taskmaster, requiring of you, as the Egyptians did of the Jews, to make bricks all day without straw, and noting down secretly every moment that you take your eyes off your work, that He may punish you for it years hence when you have forgotten it--extreme to mark what is done amiss? Or do you look on God as a Father who rejoices in the happiness of His children?--Who sets them no work to do but what is good for them, and requires them to do nothing without giving them first the power and the means to do it?--A Father who knows our necessities before we ask for help and a Saviour who is able and willing to give us help? If you think of God in that former way as a stern taskmaster, I can tell you nothing about Him. I know Him not; I find Him neither in the Bible, in the world, nor in my own conscience and reason. He is not the God of the Bible, the God of the Gospel whom I am commanded to preach to you. But if you think of God as a Father, as your Father in heaven, who chastens you in His love that you may partake of His holiness, and of His Son Jesus Christ as your Saviour, your Lord, who loves you, and desires your salvation, body and soul--of Him I can speak; for He is the True and only God, revealed by His Son Jesus Christ our Lord; and in His light I can tell you to rejoice and take comfort, ever though He brings you into judgment; for being your Father in heaven, He can mean nothing but your good, and He would not bring you into judgment if that too was not good for you. Now, you must remember that the judgment of which Solomon speaks here is a judgment in _this_ life. The whole Book of Ecclesiastes, from which the text is taken, is about _this_ life. Solomon says so specially, and carefully. He is giving here advice to his son; and his doctrine all through is, that a man's happiness or misery in _this_ life, his good or bad fortune in _this_ life, depend almost entirely on his own conduct; and, above all, on his conduct in youth. As a man sows he shall reap, is his doctrine. Therefore, he says, in this very chapter, Do what if right, just because it is right. It is sure to pay you in the long run, somehow, somewhere, somewhen. Cast thy bread on the waters--that is, do a generous thing whenever you have an opportunity--and thou shalt find it after many days. Give a portion to seven, and also to eight, for thou knowest not what evil shall be on the earth. Every action of yours will bear fruit. Every thing you do, and every word you say, will God bring into judgment, sooner or later. It will rise up against you, years afterwards, to punish you, or it will rise up for you, years afterwards, to reward you. It must be so, says Solomon; that is the necessary, eternal, moral law of God's world. As you do, so will you be rewarded. If the clouds be full of rain, they must empty themselves on the earth. Where the tree falls, there it will lie. As we say in England, as you make your bed, so you will lie on it. That does not (as people are too apt to think) speak of what is to happen to us after we die. It speaks expressly and only of what will happen before we die. It is the same as our English proverb. Therefore, he says, do not look too far forward. Do not be double-minded, doing things with a mean and interested after-thought, plotting, planning, asking, will this right thing pay me or not? He that observeth the wind, and is too curious and anxious about the weather, will not sow; and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap. No; just do the right thing which lies nearest you, and trust to God to prosper it. In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand; for thou knowest not which shall prosper, this or that, or whether they shall both be alike good. Thou knowest not, he says, the works of God, who maketh all. All thou knowest is, that the one only chance of success in life is to fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil. Whether it be good, or whether it be evil. He does not say only that God will bring your evil deeds into judgment. But that He will bring your good ones also, and your happiness and good fortune in this life will be, on the whole, made up of the sum-total of the good and harm you have done, of the wisdom or the folly which you have thought and carried out. It _is_ so. You know it is so. When you look round on other men, you see that on the whole men prosper very much as they deserve. There are exceptions, I know. Solomon knew that well. Such strange and frightful exceptions, that one must believe that those who have been so much wronged in this life will be righted in the life to come. Children suffer for the sins of their parents. Innocent people suffer with the guilty. But these are the exceptions, not the rule. And these exceptions are much more rare than we choose to confess. When a man complains to you that he has been unfortunate, that the world has been unjust to him, that he has not had fair play in life, and so forth, in three cases out of four you will find that it is more or less the man's own fault; that he has _deserved_ his losses, that is, earned them for himself. I do not mean that the man need have been a wicked man--not in the least. But he has been imprudent, perhaps weak, hasty, stupid, or something else; and his faults, perhaps some one fault, has hampered him, thrown him back, and God has brought him to judgment for it, and made it punish him. And why? Surely that he may see his fault and repent of it, and mend it for the time to come. I say, God may bring a man's fault into judgment, and let it punish him, without the man being a bad man. And you, young people, will find in after-life that you will have earned, deserved, merited, and worked out for yourselves a great deal of your own happiness and misery. I know this seems a hard doctrine. People are always ready to lay their misfortunes on God, on the world, on any and every one, rather than on themselves. A bad education, for instance--a weakly constitution which some bring into the world, with or without any fault of their own, are terrible drawbacks and sore afflictions. The death of those near and dear to us, of which we cannot always say, I have earned this, I have brought it on myself. It is the Lord. Let Him do what seemeth Him good. But because misfortunes may come upon us without our own fault, that is no reason why we should not provide against the misfortunes which will be our own fault. Nay, is it not all the stronger reason for providing against them, that there are other sorrows against which we cannot provide? Alas! is there not misery horrible enough hanging over our heads daily in this mortal life without our making more for ourselves by our own folly? We shall have grief enough before we die without adding to that grief the far bitterer torment of remorse! Oh, young people, young people, listen to what I say! You can be, you will be, you must be, the builders of your own good or bad fortunes. On _you_ it depends whether your lives shall be honourable and happy, or dishonourable and sad. There is no such thing as luck or fortune in this world. What is called Fortune is nothing else than the orderly and loving providence of the Lord Jesus Christ, who orders all things in heaven and earth, and who will, sooner or later, reward every man according to his works. Just in proportion as you do the will of your Father in heaven, just so far will doing His will bring its own blessing and its own reward. Instead of hoping for good fortune which may never come, or fearing bad fortune which may never come either, pray, each of you, for the Holy Spirit of God, the Spirit of right-doing, which _is_ good fortune in itself; good fortune in this world; and in the world to come, everlasting life. Fear God and keep His commandments, and all will be well. For who is the man who is master of his own luck? The Psalmist tells us, in Psalm xv., "He that leadeth an uncorrupt life, and doeth the thing which is right, and speaketh the truth from his heart." "He that backbiteth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbour, nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbour. In whose eyes a vile person is contemned; but he honoureth them that fear the Lord: he that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not. He that putteth not out his money to usury, nor taketh reward against the innocent." Whoso doeth these things shall _never fall_. And as long as you are doing those things, you may rejoice freely and heartily in your youth, believing that the smile of God, who gave you the power of being happy, is on your happiness; and that your heavenly Father no more grudges harmless pleasure to you, than He grudges it to the gnat which dances in the sunbeam, or the bird which sings upon the bough. For He is The Father,--and what greater delight to a father than to see his children happy, if only, while they are happy, they are _good_? XX. GOD'S BEAUTIFUL WORLD.--A SPRING SERMON. "Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, thou art very great: thou art clothed with honour and majesty. Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain: who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: who maketh the clouds his chariot: who walketh upon the wings of the wind."--Ps. civ. 1-3. At this delicious season of the year, when spring time is fast ripening into summer, and every hedge, and field, and garden is full of life and growth, full of beauty and fruitfulness; and we look back on the long winter, and the boughs which stood bare so drearily for six months, as if in a dream; the blessed spring with its green leaves, and gay flowers, and bright suns has put the winter's frosts out of our thoughts, and we seem to take instinctively to the warmth, as if it were our natural element--as if we were intended, like the bees and butterflies, to live and work only in the summer days, and not to pass, as we do in this climate, one-third of the year, one-third of our whole lives, in mist, cold, and gloom. Now, there is a meaning in all this--in our love of bright, warm weather, a very deep and blessed meaning in it. It is a sign to us where we come from--where God would have us go. A sign that we came from God's heaven of light and beauty, that God's heaven of light and beauty is meant for us hereafter. That love which we have for spring, is a sign, that we are children of the everlasting Spring, children of the light and of the day, in body and in soul; if we would but claim our birthright! For you must remember that mankind came from a warm country--a country all of sunshine and joy. Adam in the garden of Eden was in no cold or severe climate, he had no need of clothes, not even of the trouble of tilling the ground. The bountiful earth gave him all he wanted. The trees over his head stretched out the luscious fruits to him--the shady glades were his only house, the mossy banks his only bed. He was bred up the child of sunshine and joy. But he was not meant to stay there. God who brings good out of evil, gave man a real blessing when He drove him out of the garden of Eden. Men were meant to fill the earth and to conquer it, as they are doing at this day. They were meant to become hardy and industrious--to be forced to use their hands and their heads to the utmost stretch, to call out into practice all the powers which lay ready in them. They were meant, in short, according to the great law of God's world, to be made perfect through sufferings, and therefore it was God's kindness, and not cruelty, to our forefathers, when He sent them out into the world; and that He did not send them into any exceedingly hot country, where they would have become utterly lazy and profligate, like the negroes and the South Sea islanders, who have no need to work, because the perpetual summer gives them their bread ready-made to their hands. And it was a kindness, too, that God did not send our forefathers out into any exceedingly cold country, like the Greenlanders and the Esquimaux, where the perpetual winter would have made them greedy, and stunted, and stupid; but that He sent us into this temperate climate, where there is a continual change and variety of seasons. Here first, stern and wholesome winter, then bright, cheerful summer, each bringing a message and a lesson from our loving Father in heaven. First comes winter, to make us hardy and daring, and industrious, and strips the trees, and bares the fields, and takes away all food from the earth, and cries to us with the voice of its storms, "He that will _not work_, neither shall he eat." "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise: who layeth up her meat in the summer, and provideth her food against the time of frosts." And then comes summer, with her flowers and her fruits, and brings us her message from God, and says to us poor, slaving, hard-worn children of men, "You are not meant to freeze, and toil, and ache for ever. God loves to see you happy; God is willing to feed your eyes with fair sights, your bodies with pleasant food, to cheer your hearts with warmth and sunshine as much as is good for you. He does not grieve willingly, nor afflict the children of men. See the very bees and gnats, how they dance and bask in the sunbeams! See the very sparrows, how they choose their mates and build their nests, and enjoy themselves as if they were children of the spring! And are not ye of more value than many sparrows? you who can understand and enjoy the spring, you men and women who can understand and enjoy God's fair earth ten thousand times more than those dumb creatures can. It is for _you_ God has made the spring. It is for _your_ sakes that Christ, the ruler of the earth, sends light and fruitfulness, and beauty over the world year by year. And why? Not merely to warm and feed your bodies, but to stir up your hearts with grateful love to Him, the Blessed One, and to teach you what you are to expect from Him hereafter." Ay, my friends, this is the message the spring and summer bring with them--they are signs and sacraments from God, earnests of the everlasting spring--the world of unfading beauty and perpetual happiness which is the proper home of man, which God has prepared for those that love Him--the world wherein there shall be no more curse, neither sorrow nor sighing, but the Lord God and the Lamb shall be the light thereof; and the rivers of that world shall be waters of life, and the trees of that world shall be for the healing of the nations; and the children of the Lord God shall see Him face to face, and be kings and priests to Him for ever and ever. Therefore, I say, rejoice in spring time, and in the sights, and sounds, and scents which spring time, as a rule, brings; and remember, once for all, never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful. Beauty is God's hand-writing--God's image. It is a wayside sacrament, a cup of blessing; welcome it in every fair landscape, every fair face, every fair flower, and drink it in with all your eyes, and thank Christ for it, who is Himself the well-spring of all beauty, who giveth all things richly to enjoy. I think, this 104th Psalm is a fit and proper psalm to preach on in this sweet spring time; for it speaks, from beginning to end, of God's earth, and of His glory, and love, and wisdom which shines forth on this earth. And though, at first sight, it may not seem to have much to do with Christianity, and with the great mystery of our redemption, yet, I believe and know that it has at bottom all and everything to do with it; that this 104th Psalm is as full of comfort and instruction for Christian men as any other Psalm in the whole Bible. I believe that without feeling rightly and healthily about this Psalm, we shall not feel rightly or healthily about any other part of the Bible, either Old or New Testament. At all events God's inspired psalmist was not ashamed to write this psalm. God's Spirit thought it worth while to teach him to write this psalm. God's providence thought it worth while to preserve this psalm for us in His holy Bible, and therefore I think it must be worth while for _us_ to understand this psalm, unless we pretend to be wiser than God. I have no fancy for picking and choosing out of the holy Bible; _all_ Scripture is given by inspiration of God--all Scripture is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, and therefore this 104th Psalm is profitable as well as the rest; and especially profitable to be explained in a few sermons as I said before, at _this_ season when, if we have any eyes to see with, or hearts to feel with, we ought to be wondering at and admiring God's glorious earth, and saying, with the old prophet in my text, "Praise the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, thou art very great; thou art clothed with honour and majesty. Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: who stretchest out the heavens as with a curtain: who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: who maketh the clouds his chariot: who walketh upon the wings of the wind . . . O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches" (Ps. civ. 1, 2, 3, 24). First, then, consider those wonderful words of the text, how God covers Himself with light as it were with a garment. Truly there is something most divine in light; it seems an especial pattern and likeness of God. The Bible uses it so continually. Light is a pattern of God's wisdom; for light sees into everything, searches through everything, and light is a pattern of God's revelation, for light shows us everything; without light our eyes would be useless--and so without God our soul's eyes would be useless. It is God who teaches us all we know. It is God who makes us understand all we understand. He opens the meaning of everything to us, just as the light shews everything to us; and as in the sunlight only we see the brightness and beauty of the earth, so it is written, "In thy light, O God, we shall see light." Thus light is God's garment. It shows Him to us, and yet it hides Him from us. Who could dare or bear to look on God if we saw Him as He is face to face? Our souls would be dazzled blind, as our eyes are by the sun at noonday. But now, light is a pattern to us of God's glory; and therefore it is written, that light _is_ God's garment, that God dwells in the light which no man can approach unto. As a wise old heathen nobly said, "Light is the shadow of God;" and so, as the text says, He stretches out those glorious blue heavens above us as a curtain and shield, to hide our eyes from His unutterable splendour, and yet to lift our souls up to Him. The vastness and the beauty of those heavens, with all their countless stars, each one a sun or a world in itself, should teach us how small we are, how great is our Father who made all these. When we see a curtain, and know that it bides something beautiful behind it, our curiosity and wonder is awakened, and we long all the more to see what is behind that curtain. So the glory of those skies ought to make us wonder and long all the more to see the God who made the skies. But again, the Psalmist says that God lays the beams of His chambers in the waters, and makes the clouds His chariot, and walks upon the wings of the wind! that He makes His angels the storms, and His ministers a flaming fire. You must not suppose that the psalmist had such a poor notion of the great infinite God, as to fancy that He could be in any one _place_. God wants no chambers--even though they were built of the clouds, arched with rainbows, as wide as the whole vault of heaven. He wants no wind to carry Him--He carries all things and moves all things. In Him they live, and move, and have their being. Yet Him--the heaven, and the heaven of heavens cannot contain Him! He is everywhere and no _where_--for He is a Spirit; He is in all things, and yet He is no _thing_--for He was before all things, and in Him all things consist. He is the Absolute, the Uncreated, the Infinite, the One and the All. And the old Psalmist knew that as well as we do, perhaps better. What, then, did he mean by these two last verses? He meant, that in all those things God was present--that the world was not like a machine, a watch, which God had wound up at the creation, and started off to go of itself; but that His Spirit, His providence, were guiding everything, even as at the first. That those mists and rain came from Him, and went where He sent them; that those clouds carried _His_ blessings to mankind; that when the thunder shower bursts on one parish, and leaves the next one dry, it is because God will have it so; that He brings the blessed purifying winds out of His treasures, to sweeten and fatten the earth with the fresh breath of life, which they have drunk up from the great Atlantic seas, and from the rich forests of America--that they blow whither He thinks best; that clouds and rain, wind and lightning, are His fruitful messengers and His wholesome ministers, fulfilling His word, each according to their own laws, but also each according to His especial providence, who has given the whole earth to the children of men. This is the meaning of the Psalmist, that the weather is not a dead machine, but a living, wonderful work of the Spirit of God, the Lord and giver of life. Therefore we may dare to pray for fair and seasonable weather; we may dare to pray against blight and tempest--humbly, because we know not what is altogether good for us,--but boldly and freely, because we know that there is a living, loving God, governing the weather, who does know what is good for us; who has given us His only begotten Son, and will with Him also give us all things. And so ends my first sermon on the 104th Psalm. XXI. WONDERS OF THE SEA; OR DAILY MIRACLES. "Thou coverest the earth with the deep sea as with a garment."--PSALM civ. 6. When we look at a map of the world, one of the first things that strikes us as curious is, how little dry land there is, and how much sea. More than half the world covered with deep, wild, raging, waste salt water! It seems very strange. Of what use to man can all that sea be? And yet the Scripture says that the whole earth has God given to the children of men. And therefore He has given to us the sea which is part of the earth. But of what use is the sea to us? We are ready to say at first sight, "How much better if the world had been all dry land? There would have been so much more space for men to spread on--so much more land to grow corn on. What is the use of all that sea?" But when we look into the matter, we shall find, that every word of God stands true, in every jot and tittle of it--that we ought to thank God for the sea as much as for the land--that David spoke truly when he said, in this Psalm civ., that the great and wide sea also is full of God's riches. For in the first place--What should we do without water? Not only to drink, but to feed all trees, and crops which grow. Those who live in a dry parish know well the need of water for the crops. In fact, strange as it may seem, out of water is made wood. You know, perhaps, that plants are made out of the salts in the soil--but not only out of salts--they are made also out of water. Every leaf and flower is made up only of those two things--salts from the soil, and water from the sky. Most wonderful! But so it is. Water is made up of several very different things. The leaves and flowers, when they drink up water, keep certain parts of water, and turn them into wood; and the part of the water which _they_ do not want, is just the part which _we_ do want, namely, fresh air, for water is full of fresh air. And therefore the plants breathe out the fresh air through their leaves, that we may breathe it into our lungs. More and more wonders, you see, as we go on! But where does all the rain water and spring water come from? From the clouds. And where do the clouds come from? From the _Sea_. The sea water is drawn up by the sun's heat, evaporated, as we call it, into the air, and makes mist, and that mist grows together into clouds. And these clouds empty their blessed life-giving treasures on the land--to feed man, and beast, and herb. But what is it which governs these clouds, and makes them do their appointed work? The Psalmist tells us, "At Thy rebuke they flee; at the voice of Thy thunder they are afraid." He gives the same account of it which wise men now-a-days give. It is God, he says, and the Providence of God, which raises the clouds, and makes them water the earth. And the means which He employs is thunder. Now this is strictly true. We all know that thunder gathers the clouds together, and brings rain: but we do not all know that the power which makes the thunder, which we call electricity, is working all around us everywhere. It is only when it bursts out, in flame and noise, which we call lightning and thunder, that we perceive it--but it is still there, this wonderful thing called electricity, for ever at work--giving the clouds their shape, making them fly with vast weights of water through the sky, and then making them pour down that water in rain. But there is another deep meaning in those words of the Psalmist's about thunder. He tells us that at the voice of God's thunder the waters are afraid--that He has set them their bounds which they shall not pass, nor turn again to cover the earth. And it is true. Also that it is this same thunder power which makes dry land--for there is thunder beneath us, and lightning too, in the bowels of the earth. Those who live near burning mountains know this well. They see not only flames, but _real_ lightning, _real_ thunder playing about the burning mouths of the fiery mountains--they hear the roaring, the thundering of the fire-kingdom miles beneath their feet, under the solid crust of the earth. And they see, too, whole hills, ay, whole counties, sometimes, heaved up many feet in a single night, by this thunder under ground--and islands thrown up in the midst of the sea--so that where there was once deep water is now dry land. Now, in this very way, strange as it may seem, almost all dry land is made. This whole country of England once lay at the bottom of the sea. You may now see shells and sea fishes bedded in high rocks and hill tops. But it was all heaved up by the thunder which works under ground. There are places in England where I have seen the marks of the fire on the rocks; and the solid stone crushed, and twisted, and melted by the vast force of the fire which thrust up the land from beneath--and thus the land was heaved up from under the waters, and the sea fled away and left its old bed dry--firm land and high cliffs--and as the Psalmist says, "At the voice of God's thunder the waters were afraid. Thou hast set them their bounds which they shall not pass, neither turn again to cover the earth." Wonderful as all this may seem, all learned men know that it is true. And this one thing at least it ought to teach us, what a wonderful and Almighty God we have to deal with, whose hand made all these things--and what a loving and merciful God, who makes not only the wind and the sea, and the thunder and the fire kingdoms obey Him, but makes their violence bring blessings to mankind. The fire kingdom heaves up dry land for men to dwell on--the thunder brings mellow rains--the winds sweep the air clean, and freshen all our breath--and feed the plants with rich air drawn from far forests in America, and from the wild raging seas--the sea sends up its continual treasures of rain--everywhere are harmony and fitness, beauty and use in all God's works. He has made nothing in vain. All His works praise Him, and surely, also, His saints should give thanks to Him! Oh! my friends--every thunder shower--every fresh south-west breeze, is a miracle of God's mercy, if we could but see thoroughly into it. Consider, again, another wonderful proof of God's goodness in what we call the Tides of the sea. God has made the waters so, that they can never stand still--the sea is always moving. Twice a day it rises, and twice a day it sinks and ebbs again all along the shore. It would take too long to explain why this is--but it is enough to say, that it must be so, from the way in which God has made the earth and the water. So that it did not come from accident. God planned and intended it all when He made the sea at first. His all-foreseeing love settled it all. Now of what use are these tides? They keep the sea from rotting, by keeping it in a perpetual stir. And the sea, as it ebbs and flows, draws the air after it, and so keeps the air continually moving and blowing, therefore continually fresh, and continually carrying in it rich food for plants from one country to another. There are other reasons why the winds blow, which I have not time to mention now; but they all go to prove the same thing.--How wisely and well the Psalmist said, "Praise the Lord upon earth ye rivers and all deeps. Fire and hail, snow and vapour, wind and storm, fulfilling His word" (Ps. cxlviii.). Another use of the sea, again, is the vast quantity of food which it gives. Labouring men who live inland have no notion of the wonderful fruitfulness of those seemingly barren wastes of water, or how many millions of human beings live mostly on fish. When we consider those great banks of Newfoundland, where fish enough perhaps to feed all England are caught every season, and sent over the whole world; our own herring fisheries, where thousands of millions of fish are caught yearly--and all the treasures of food and the creeping things innumerable, both small and great beasts, of which the Psalmist speaks; when we consider all this, we shall begin to bless God for the sea, as much as for the land. "There go the ships," too, says the Psalmist, in this 104th Psalm, "and there goeth that leviathan, whom Thou hast made to take his pastime therein." This leviathan is no doubt the whale--the largest of all living things--often a hundred feet long, and as thick as a house. And yet even of him, the monster of all monsters, does God's Word stand true, that He has put all things under man's feet, that all things are in subjection to man--the fish of the sea, and whatsoever walketh through the paths of the sea. For even the great whale cannot stand before the cunning of man--God has taught man the means of killing even it, and turning it to his own use. The whalebone which we use, the oil which we burn in lamps, comes from the bodies of those enormous creatures which wander in the far seas like floating houses, ten thousand miles away. But again, it is promised in the Bible, that in the new heavens and new earth there shall be no more sea. When the sea has done its work, God will have done with it--and then there will be no more division between nation and nation--no more long dangerous voyages from one country to another. And strange to say--the sea is even now at work bringing about this very thing--destroying itself--filling itself up. Day by day the sea eats away its own shore, and banks, and carries down their remains to make its own bed shallower and shallower, till shoals and new lands arise where there was deep sea before. So that if the world lasts long enough, the sea by its own laws will be filled up, and dry land appear everywhere. The bottom of the sea is full, too, of countless millions of strange insects--and yet even in these strange insects there is use; for not only do they give food to countless millions of fishes, but after a time they turn into stone, and form fruitful soil. There are now in many parts of the world great beds of rock and earth, many feet thick, and miles long, made up entirely out of the skeletons and shells of little insects which lived at the bottom of the sea thousands of years ago. Are not these things wonderful? Well, then, remember who made these wonders? who keeps them working? Your Father--and the Son of God, and the Spirit of God. The Son of God--ay, think of Him--He by whom all things were made--He by whom all things consist--He to whom all power is given in heaven and earth. He came down and died on the cross for you. He calls to you to come and serve Him loyally and gratefully--dare you refuse Him--The Maker and King of this glorious world? He died for you. He loves you. He condescends to beseech you to come to Him that you may have life. Alas! what can you expect if you will not come to Him? How will you escape if you turn your back on your Maker, and despise your own Creator when He stoops to entreat you? Oh folly--Oh madness--Oh utter shame and ruin! There are some people who do not like science and philosophy, because they say, If you try to explain to people, and make them understand the wonderful things around them, they will stop thinking them wonderful, and so you will spoil their reverence, and "familiarity will breed contempt." Now, no doubt a little learning is a dangerous thing, when it makes some shallow conceited fellow fancy he knows all about everything. But I can truly say, that the more you really do know about this earth, the more your astonishment at it will grow--for the _more_ you understand about trees and animals, clouds and seas, the _less_ you will find you understand about them. The more you read about them and watch them, the more infinitely and inexpressibly wonderful you find them, and the more you get humbled and awestruck at the boundless wisdom and love of Our Father in Heaven, and Christ the Word of God who planned and made this wondrous world, and the Holy Spirit of God who is working this wondrous world. I tell you, my friends, that as St. Paul says, "If a man will be wise, let him become a fool that he may be wise." Let him go about feeling how short-sighted, and stupid, and ignorant he is--and how infinitely wise Christ the Word of God is, by whom all things were made, to whom all belong. Let him go about wondering day and night, always astonished more and more, as everything he sees gives him some fresh proof of the glory of God; till he falls down on his knees and cries out with the Psalmist, "Lord, what is man that Thou art mindful of him, or the son of man, that Thou so regardest him?" When I consider Thy Heavens, even the work of Thine hands, I say, What is man? and yet Thou madest man to have dominion over the works of Thine hands, and hast put all things in subjection under his feet--the fowl of the air and the fishes of the sea, and whatsoever walketh through the paths of the seas. O Lord, our Governor, how excellent is Thy name in all the world. In comparison of Thee what is man's wisdom? What is man's power? Thou alone art glorious, for by Thee are all things, and for Thee they were made, and are created, that Thou mightest rejoice in the works of Thy own hands, and bless the creatures which Thy love has made! XXII. THE SAILOR'S GOD. PREACHED TO SAILORS AT A LITTLE FISHING VILLAGE IN CORNWALL, 1843. "They that go down to the sea in ships, and occupy their business in great waters; these men see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep."--Ps. cvii. 23, 24. My brothers--for though I do not know most of you even by name, yet you are still my brothers, for His sake in whose name you were baptized--my brothers, it has been often said that seamen and fishermen ought to be the most religious men in the country. And why? Because they, more than any set of men, see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. The cotton-spinner, who is shut up in a factory all day long, with nothing before his eyes but his loom, and nothing to look at beyond his own house but dingy streets and smoking furnace chimneys--he, poor man, sees very little of the works of the Lord. _Man_ made the world of streets and shops and machinery in which that poor workman lives and dies. What wonder is it if he forgets the God who made him--the God who made the round world, and set it so fast that it should not be moved, and has given the sea its bounds that it should not overflow them at any time? How much better off are you seamen than such a man as that! And you are better off too, even, than most field labourers and farmers. They are not shut up in towns, it is true; they have God's beautiful earth to till and keep: but they are _too safe on shore_! Yes; it may seem a strange thing to say; but you ought to thank God that your trade is a dangerous one--you have more to put you in mind of God than the labouring man! And why? In the first place, as I said, fishermen and sailors see more of the wonderful works of God than any other set of men. Man may cut and change the earth--mining and quarrying and building--till it hardly looks like God's earth, but he cannot change the sea! There it is, just as God made it at first. Millions of rivers have run into it, yet it is not over full; cliffs have been wearing away and falling into it for six thousand years, yet is it not filled up. Millions of vessels have been sailing over it, yet they have left no mark upon it; it seems unchangeable, like God who made it. What is the use of my praising the sea to you? Do you not all know it, and fear it, and love it too? and does it not put you in mind of God who made it? who made that mighty water for the use of men, and filled it with thousands of different kinds of fishes, and weeds, and wonderful things for your use and comfort; and who has made it so strong that it shall keep you always in awe and fear and watchfulness, looking to God to save you--and yet so gentle and calm that you can sail upon its bosom, and there find food for your families. Which of you, who has any godly heart in him, can help feeling, sometimes at least when at sea, that he is seeing the wonderful works of God! I said that you ought to thank God that your trade was a dangerous one, and I said that the sea should always keep you in fear and watchfulness, and looking to God to preserve you. Now, do you not see how these two sayings go together, and make each other plain. You seamen and fishermen are in continual danger; your lives are in your hands every moment--the belaying of a sheet, the strength of a bit of canvas, the toughness of a deal board, may settle your fate in a moment, and make all the difference between life and death. If they are sound, you may go back to a happy home, and see wife and children coming to meet you when you run on shore at morning from your honest labour; and if they fail--if that weak cordage, and these planks, and thinner canvas, on which your lives depend, do but give way, what is left for you the next moment? what but a grave in the deep, deep sea, and your wives widows and your children orphans, and your bodies devoured by ugly creeping things, and your souls gone--gone where? My good men--you who sit around me now so strong and full of life and skill and happiness--where would your souls be if you were drowned at sea to-morrow? What a question! Oh, ask it yourselves honestly! I have been out in gales myself, and I cannot understand how you can go out, in thirty feet of timber, upon that mighty sea, with the wind howling over your heads like a death-bell, and the great hungry waves chasing you for miles, each one able and willing to swallow you up into the deep, and the gulls screaming over you as if they were waiting to feed upon your floating carcases, and you alone, in a tiny boat, upon that waste, howling wilderness of waters!--I cannot understand, I say, how, when a man is in such a case as that, day after day, year after year, he can forget his God, the only friend who can save him from the sea! the only friend who can send him safe out to his work in the evening, and bring him home safe to his wife at morning. One would think that when you went down to the shore in the morning, you would say, "Oh, God! without whose help I am no stronger than a piece of sea-weed floating up and down, take care of me! Take care of my wife and my children; and forgive me my sins, and do not punish me by calling me away this night to answer for them all!" And when you come home at night, you would say, "Oh, God! who hast kept me safe all this day, what can I do to show how thankful I am to Thee!" Ay! what _can_ you do to show how thankful you are to God for His care? What _ought_ you to do to show your thankfulness to Him? What _must_ you do to show your thankfulness to Him? He has told you. "If you love me, He says, keep my commandments. Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with thy God." These, my friends, are the holy and thankful thoughts which ought to be in your hearts every day and hour. This is the thought which God meant to put into your hearts when He made sailors of you, and brought you into the world, by the sea-side, to take up your business in great waters. You might have been born in Bristol or Liverpool or London, and never seen anything but streets and houses, and man's clumsy work. But God has been very good to you. He has brought you up here, in this happy West country, where you may see His wonderful works day and night; where you ought never to forget that you have a Father in heaven who made the sea, and who keeps you safe at sea by night and day. God has given you a great deal. He has given you two books to read--the book of God's Word, the Bible, and the book of God's earth, the sky and sea and land, which is above you and below you and around you day and night. If you can read and understand them properly, you will find in them everything which you want; you may learn from them to be holy in this world and happy in the next. God has given you, too, fathers, mothers, wives, children, a comfortable home, a holy trade--the same which the apostles followed. God has given you England for your country, and the West country--the best place in England for your home. God has given you a good Queen, and good magistrates and landlords. God has given you health and strength, and seamanship, and clear heads and stout hearts. And God has made you seamen and fishermen, and given you a business in which you can see God's mighty power and wisdom day and night, and feel Him taking care of you when you cannot take care of yourselves. Therefore you ought to thank God that yours is a dangerous business, because it teaches you to trust in God alone for safety. And what are you to give Him in return? What does God require of you? You cannot pay Him back again for all His mercies, for they are past counting, but you must pay Him back all you can. And what must you pay Him back? First, you must trust in God; for he who comes to God and wishes to walk with God through life, as a good man should, must believe that there is a God, and that He will reward those who look to Him. I never heard of a sailor who did not _believe_ in God; for how can a man look at the sea, and not say to himself, _God_ made the sea! But I have seen a great many sailors who did not _trust_ in God. As long as it is fine weather, and everything goes right, they will forget God, and fancy that it is their own seamanship, and not God alone, which keeps their boats afloat, and their own skill in fishing, and not God alone, which sends the shoals of fish into their nets; and so they are truly fine-weather sailors--men who are only fit for calm seas and light breezes, when they can take care of themselves without God's help; but when a squall comes their hearts change, by God's mercy. For when a man has done all he can to save himself, and all he can do is no use, and his nets are adrift, and his boat on her beam ends, and the foaming rocks are on his lee, then he comes to his senses at last, and prays. Why did he not pray before? Why did he not save himself from all that misery and trouble and danger by thanking God for taking care of him, and praying to God to take care of him still. "Foolish men are plagued for their offences, and because of their wickedness. They that go down to the sea in ships, and occupy their business on great waters; these men see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep; for at His word the stormy wind ariseth which lifteth up the waves thereof; they are carried up to heaven, and down again into the deep; their soul melteth away because of the trouble; they reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end." And justly they are punished for forgetting God. God made the calm as well as the storm. Could they not remember that? But look at God's mercy; for when they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, He delivers them out of all their distress. For He makes the storm to cease, so that the waves are still; then are they glad because they are at rest, and so God brings them to the harbour where they would be. Is there an old man sitting here who has not had this happen to him? And what did you _do_, my friend, when God had saved you out of that danger? It is easy to tell what you _ought_ to have done; you ought to have gone home and fallen on your knees, and prayed to God; you ought to have said, Oh, Lord, I am a miserable, foolish sinner, who can only remember Thee when Thou art angry; an ungrateful son, who only thinks of his father when he beats him! Oh, God, forgive me, I ought to have trusted in Thee before! I deserved all my danger and punishment and more. I did not deserve to be pardoned and saved from it! I deserve to be at the bottom of the sea at this moment. But forgive me, forgive me, loving and merciful Father, for the sake of Thy dear Son Jesus Christ, who died on the cross that I might be saved from death! And when you had prayed thus, the next thing you ought to have asked yourself was--What does God require of me? how can I try to pay Him back--how can I show that I am thankful? My good friends, what does God require of you? "To do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God." I told you He required of you first to trust in Him at all hours, in all weathers. This is the next thing which He requires of you--To do justly, to cheat no man, not in the price of a pilchard; to love mercy; to love your neighbours, as Christ loved you; to help your neighbours, as Christ helped you and all mankind, by dying to save you; and as Christ has helped you, night after night, when you might have been buried in the waves, if Christ had not prayed for you that you might have time to repent, and bring forth fruits fit for repentance. To love mercy; to forgive every man who hurts you, for they are all Christian men and your brothers. Christ loved every one! Why should not you? If your wife or friend loved anything, you would be kind to it for their sakes; and so, if you really love God, and are thankful to Him for all His mercy and kindness, you will love every man you meet, for God's sake, who loved them and gave His Son for them. "To walk humbly with your God." That is the beginning and end of all--you must be humble; you must confess that you are foolish, and God alone is wise; that you are weak, and God alone is strong; that you are poor fishermen, whom any squall may drown, and that God is the Great, Loving, Almighty God, who made heaven and earth, and the sea and all that is therein, and who helps all those who put their trust in Him. This is what God asks you to do in return for all He has done for you! To pray to Him, to praise Him, to put your trust in Him, to keep His commandments like thankful, humble, obedient, loving children. They who do these things, and only they, shall never fail. By night and day, in summer and winter, in storm and calm, in health and sickness, in richness and poverty, God will be with them. Christ will be with them. He sat in a fisherman's boat once, on the sea of Tiberias, and He will sit in your boats if you will but ask Him. He will steer you, He will save you, He will take care of your wives and children when you are far away, and He will bring you through the troublesome waves of this mortal life, so that, having faith for your anchor, and hope for your sail, and charity for your crew, you may at last land on the happy shore of everlasting life, there to live with God, world without end. God grant it may be so! My good brothers--for I am a Christian like you, and an Englishman like you, and a west countryman like you--I thank our Father in heaven that He has brought me from the other end of England, and put this message into my mouth, to remind you of who you are--that _you_ are the men who see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep; and that God will say to every one of you at the day of judgment,--I taught you all this, I gave you all this, I did all this for _you_, what have you done for _Me_ in return? Go home--read over these verses in 107th Psalm, and think over what I have said. Do it to-night, for the weather has broken up--there are gales coming. Which of you can say that he will be alive next Sunday? XXIII. THE GOOD SOLDIER OF JESUS CHRIST. "Thou therefore endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ."--2 TIMOTHY ii. 3. Suppose a young man went of his own will for a soldier; was regularly sworn in to serve the Queen; took his bounty; wore the Queen's uniform; ate her bread; learnt his drill; and all that a soldier need learn, as long as peace lasted. But suppose that, as soon as war came, and his regiment was ordered on active service, he deserted at once, and went off and hid himself. What should you call such a man? You would call him a base and ungrateful coward, and you would have no pity on him, if he was taken and justly punished. But suppose that he did a worse thing still. Suppose that the enemy, the Russians say, invaded England, and the army was called out to fight them; and suppose this man of whom I speak, be he soldier or sailor, instead of fighting the enemy, deserted over to them, and fought on their side against his own country, and his own comrades, and his own father and brothers, what would you call that man? No name would be bad enough for him. If he was taken, he would be hanged without mercy, as not only a deserter but a traitor. And who would pity him or say that he had not got his just deserts? Now, for God's sake and your own sakes consider. Are not all young people, when they are old enough to choose between right and wrong, if they choose what is wrong and live bad lives instead of good ones, very like this same deserter and traitor? For are you not all Christ's soldiers, every one of you? Did not Christ enlist every one of you into His army, that, as the baptism service says, you might fight manfully under His banner against sin, the world, and the devil,--in one word, against all that is wrong and bad? And now when you are old enough to know that you are Christ's soldiers, what will you deserve to be called, if instead of fighting on Christ's side against what is good, you forget you are in His service? What are you but deserters from Christ's banner and army, traitors to Christ's cause? But some may say, "My case is not like that soldier's. I did not enter Christ's service of my own free will. My parents put me into it when I was an infant, without asking my leave. I was not christened of my own will. My parents had me christened before I knew any thing about it! I had no choice!" Is it so? Do you know what your words mean? If they mean anything, they mean that you had rather _not_ have been christened, because you are now expected to behave as a christened man should. Now is there any one of you who dare say, "I wish I had not been christened?" Not one! Then if you dare not say that; if you are content to have been christened, why are you not content to do what christened people should? If you are content to have been christened, you are christened people now of your own free will, and are bound to act accordingly. But why were you christened? not merely because your parents chose, but because it was their duty. Every child ought to be christened, because every child belongs to Christ. Every child is in debt to Christ,--every child is bound to serve Christ. In debt to Christ, you say? Certainly, from the moment you are born, and before that too. You are in debt to Him since you were born, for every good thought and feeling which ever came into your hearts and minds, for He put them there. And will any of you answer, "Then I wish He had not put them there, if they are to bring me into debt to Him, and force me to serve Him. I don't wish, of course, that I had been bad; but I wish that I had been neither good nor bad. I wish I had had no immortal soul, which is bound to serve Christ." Now does any man of you wish that really? Dare any of you wish that you were like the beasts, without conscience, without honour, without shame, without knowing right from wrong, without any life after death, without being able even to _talk_--for mind, without immortal souls men could not _speak_. The beasts cannot talk to each other; reasonable speech belongs to our souls, not to our bodies. Then if you are glad that you have souls, and are better than the dumb beasts, you confess that you feel in debt to Christ, and are bound to serve Him. For who gave you your souls but Christ? But even if you had had no souls, you would have been in debt to Christ, and bound to serve Him. "What for?" you ask. Why, for life itself. How did you come here? Who gave you life? Who brought you into the world? Who but Christ, by whom all things were made, and you among the rest? Who gave you food? Who made every atom of food grow which you ate since you were born? Who made the air you breathe, the water which you drink, the wool and cotton which clothes you? Who but Christ? Do you not know that you cannot even breathe a breath of air, unless Christ first makes the air, and then gives your lungs life to breathe the air? and yet you cannot understand that you are in debt to Christ, and have been eating His bread and living on His bounty ever since you were born? And mind, all this while I have not said one word about the greatest debt of all which you owe to the Lord Jesus Christ, even His own life, which He gave for you! Only think but once that for _your_ sakes the Lord was crucified--for _your_ sakes He died the most horrible, painful, shameful death. And then say, Are you not in debt to Him? "Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." If any mere man had died for your sake, would you not love him--would you not feel yourself in debt to him, a deeper debt than you can ever repay? Then Christ died for you--how can you be more deeply in debt to any one than to Him? You have now no _right_ to choose between Christ and the devil, because Christ has chosen you already--no right to choose between good and bad, because God, the good God Himself, has chosen you already, and has been taking care of you, and heaping you with blessings ever since you were born. And why did Christ choose you? As I have told you, that you may fight with Him against all that is bad. Jesus Christ's work at which He works for ever in heaven and in earth, is to root out all that is bad, all sin, all misery; and He will reign, and He will fight till all His enemies, even Death itself, are put under His feet and destroyed. And Christ expects you and me to help Him. He has chosen you and me, and all Christian people, to fight against what is bad, and to put it down and root it out as far as we can wherever we find it; and therefore, first, to root it out of our own hearts and lives; for while we are bad ourselves we cannot make others good. But if we go on doing bad and wrong things, are we fighting on Christ's side? No, we are fighting on the devil's side, and helping the devil against God. Do you fancy that I am saying too much? I suspect some do. I suspect some say in their hearts, "He is too hard on us. _We_ are not like that traitorous soldier. If an English soldier went over to the enemy, and fought against the English, and killed Englishmen, _that_ of course would be too bad; but we do not wish to harm any one, much less our neighbours. If we do wrong, it is ourselves at most that we harm. If we do wrong, it is only we that shall suffer for it. Why does he talk as if we were robbers or murderers, or had a spite against our neighbours? We do not wish to hurt any one, we do not want to help the devil." Now, my friends, if any of you say that, do you not say first what is not true? and next do you not know that it is not true? First, It is not true that by doing wrong you hurt no one but yourself. Every wrong thing which any man does, every wrong way into which he runs, is certain sooner or later to hurt his neighbours. The worse man a man is, the worse for those who have to do with him. You know it is your own case. You know that bad people hurt you, and make you unhappy; and that good people do you good and make you happy. You know that bad example does you harm and good example does you good. Think for yourselves--use your own common sense. Recollect what you know, what has happened to you again and again. You know that if any one uses bad language before you, you are tempted to use bad language too. If any one quarrels with you, you are tempted to quarrel with him. You know that if parents do wrong things before their children, the children learn to copy them. It is nonsense to talk of a man keeping his sins to himself. No man does, and no man can. Out of the abundance of a man's heart his mouth speaks; and a bad tree will bring forth bad fruit. If there are bad thoughts in your head, they will come out in bad words. If there are bad tempers in your heart, they will come out in bad and unkind and dishonest actions. You may as well try to keep in fire, as to keep in sin. It will break out, and it will burn whatever it touches. And if you, or I, or any one does wrong in any thing, we shall surely hurt some one or other by it. If you, or I, or any one is worse than he ought to be, we shall make the parish we live in worse than it ought to be. You know that it is so. Who made you different from the rest of the world? If any body else's sins are harmful, who will make your sins harmless? Not the devil, for he wishes to see as much harm done as possible. And not God, for He will not be so cruel as to let your sin prosper and go unpunished, as it would if it did not make people hate it, by feeling the bad effects of it. My good friends, if you by doing wrong hurt other people, and make other people unhappy, are you doing Christ's work or the devil's? Are you fighting for Christ, who wishes to make all good, or for the devil, who wishes to make all bad? Are you Christ's faithful soldier and servant, or are you a traitor to Christ who has gone over to the devil's side, and is helping the devil to make this poor world (which is bad enough already) worse than it is? Oh, think of this now, while you have time before you. Remember all that Christ has done for you, and remember that all He asks of you in return is to do for Him nothing but good, which is good for you as well as for your neighbours. The devil's wages now are shame, discontent, unhappiness, perhaps poverty, perhaps sickness, certainly punishment as traitors to Christ after we die. Christ's wages are love, joy, peace, the answer of a good conscience, the respect and love of all good men, as long as we live, and after death, life everlasting. Choose; will you be traitors or deserters, and serve the worst of all masters, the King of Hell, or be honest, honourable, and brave men, and serve the best of all masters, the King of Heaven, the Lord of Life, and love, and goodness without bound, whose ways are ways of pleasantness, and all His paths are peace? XXIV. HOLY COMMUNION; CHRIST AND THE SINNER. "Have mercy upon, me, O God, according to thy loving-kindness; according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise."--PSALM li. 1, 2, 3, 17. This Psalm was written by David when he was sorrowing for sin, and if there are any such among you, my dear friends, let me speak a few words to you. Would to God that I had the tongue of St. Paul to speak to you with--though even when he preached some mocked, as it will be to the end. But if to one of you God has brought home His truth, then to that one conscience-stricken sinner I will say, "You confess with David that all your sorrows are your own fault. Thank God that He has taught you so much." But what will you do to be saved from your sins? "I cannot wait," you say in your heart, "to go home and begin leading a new life. I will do that, please God, but I want to know at once that I am forgiven. I want to be saved. I cannot save myself. I cannot save myself from hell hereafter, or from this miserable sinful life, nearly as bad as hell here. Oh! wretched being that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" Friend, dost thou not know it is written, "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." "_Ah yes_!" _says the sinner_, "_I have been hearing that all my life_, _and much good it has done me_! _Look at me_, _I want something more than those words about Christ_, _I want Christ Himself to save me if He can_." Ah, my brother!--poor sinner! thou hast never believed in Christ, thou hast only believed _about_ Christ. There was the fault. But Christ Himself will save thee, though thou hast been the worst of reprobates, He will save thee. Only one thing, He _will_ have thee answer first. "Dost thou wish to be saved from the _punishment_ of thy sins, or from the sins themselves?" "_From my sins_--_from my sins_," says the man who truly repents. "_They are what I hate_, _even while I commit them_. _I hate and despise myself_, _I dare look neither God nor man in the face_, _and yet I go on doing the very things I loathe the next minute_. _Oh_, _for some one to save me from my own ill-temper_, _my own bitter tongue_, _my own laziness_, _my own canting habits_, _my own dishonesty_, _my own lustfulness_. _But who will save me from them_? _who will change me and make a new creature of me_? _Oh_, _for a sign from heaven that I can get rid of these bad habits_! _I hate them_, _and yet I love them_. _I long to give them up_, _and yet_, _if some one stronger than me does not have mercy on me_, _I shall go and do them again to-morrow_. _I am longing to do wrong now_, _and yet I long not to do wrong_. _Oh_, _for a sign from heaven_!" Poor sinner!--My brother! _there_ is a sign from heaven for thee! On that table it stands. A sign that Christ's blood was shed to wash out thy sins, a sign that Christ's blood will feed thee, and give thy spirit strength to cast away and hate thy sins. Come to Holy Communion and claim thy share in Christ's pardon for the past, in Christ's strength for the future. "_What_!" says the sinner, "_I come to the Sacrament_! _I of all men the most unfit_! _I who but yesterday committed such and such sins_!" Friend, as to the sin you committed yesterday, confess that to God, not me. And if you confess it to Him, He is faithful and just to forgive it. But just because you think yourself the most unfit person to come to the Holy Sacrament, for that very reason I suspect you to be fit. "_How then_!" says he in his heart, "_I have but this moment repented of my sins_! _I have but this moment_, _for the first time felt that God's wrath is revealed against me_, _that hell is open for me_!" For that very reason, come to the Holy Sacrament, and thou shalt hear there that not hell at all, but heaven is open for thee. "_What_, _with all this guilty conscience_, _this load of sins against myself_, _my neighbours_, _my children_, _my masters_, _my servants_, _on my back_!" Yes, bring them all, and say in the words of the Communion Service: "I do earnestly repent, and am heartily sorry for these, my misdoings; the remembrance of them is grievous unto me; the burden of them is intolerable." Why, for whom were these words written, but for you who feel that the burden of your sins is intolerable. They are there, not for those who feel no burden of sin, but for you--for you, and for those like you who feel the burden of your sins unbearable. "_But how shall I dare to come to the Lord's table before I am sure that my sins are forgiven_?" Come and you will hear your minister pray God to pardon and deliver you from all for Christ's sake. You will hear him read God's promises of free grace and mercy through Jesus Christ to all who truly repent. "_But I cannot trust your prayers or words_, _or any man's_. _I want a sign that I have a share in Christ's death and merits_." Then, that bread and wine is a sign. Jesus Himself ordained them for a sign. He Himself, with His dying voice declared that that bread was His body, that cup the new covenant in His blood. St. Paul declares that it is the communion, the sharing of Christ's body, that cup the sharing of His blood. What more sign do you want? Come and claim your share in Christ, and see if He disappoints you. "_Ah_! _I believe_," _says the poor man_, "_I believe_, _but I am afraid_, _afraid of partaking unworthily_, _and so provoking God_, _as the Prayer-book says to plague me with divers diseases and sundry kinds of death_." My Friend, if God was the devil, you might be afraid indeed. But He is the loving, righteous Father, who knows your weakness, and remembers that you are but dust. Can you not trust Him to pardon your mistakes about the Sacrament, which you do not wilfully intend to commit, when He has borne with, and pardoned all the sins from your youth up until now, which you have wilfully committed? Surely, you may trust Him in such a thing as this,--He who has had long-suffering enough to keep you alive, with a chance of salvation all this time? and as for sundry diseases, _have_ you avoided them? You have certainly not avoided them, at least, by staying away from the Sacrament, and breaking Christ's command to take it? If you are so afraid of God's anger, are you more likely to provoke Him by disobeying His strict commands, or by obeying them? It needs no philosopher, my friend, to find out that. "_But I shall have to make good resolutions_," _says the sinner_, "_and I am afraid of breaking them_." Well, if you break them, you can but make them again. You would call him a fool who determined never to walk, because he was afraid of falling. But you are to claim in that Sacrament your share of Christ's Spirit, Christ's life, and Christ's strength, which is just what you want to enable you to keep your good resolutions. You will be no stronger, no more righteous of yourself after the Sacrament than before. Your spirit will still be a poor weak sinful spirit, but you will have claimed your share in God's strength, God's righteousness, God's Spirit, and _they_ will make you love the good you hated, and hate the evil you loved. They will make you strong to do God's will whatever it may cost you. Oh believe the good news, and show that you believe by coming to Christ. He, the Blessed One, died for you. For you He was born and walked this earth, a poor suffering, tempted, sorrow-stricken man. For you He hung upon the shameful cross. For you He ascended up on high. For you He sent down His Spirit. For you He sits at the right hand of God, praying for you at this moment. For you He gave the signs of His body and His blood, that you might believe, and fall on your knees and cry, "In spite of all, I am forgiven. In spite of all, God cares for me. In spite of all, I have a Father and a Saviour who will never leave me, nor forsake me, wretch as I have been, till they make a man of me again, in this world, and for ever!" Oh! come, my dear, dear friends. I would give my right hand this moment, if I could but see each and every one of you shewing the truth of your repentance by coming to Holy Communion. Let this be a day of repentance, and shew it thus, and say, "We do not come to this, Thy table, O Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in Thy manifold and great mercy. We are not worthy to gather up the crumbs under Thy table, but Thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy." Let this be a day of thanksgiving, too, and shew your thankfulness by coming to Holy Communion, and lifting up your voices, once for all, at that table, and saying:-- "We bless Thee, we praise Thee, we glorify Thee, we give thanks to Thee for Thy great glory." These are the words for you this day. Oh! do not turn away. All your distress, all your sorrows have come from your not having faith in God. Break at once the accursed charm with which the devil has enchanted you. Have faith enough to come to God's holy table, and see if God does not reward you by giving you faith enough to conquer yourselves, and lead new lives like redeemed men in the sunshine of His smile, henceforth and forever! My friends, what more can I say, except once and again, Come ye who labour and are heavy laden, and Christ will give you rest! Ay, and He will. I speak only what I know--what I have felt. But before He will give you rest, be you rich or poor, young or old, you must learn to say those simple words (they are the best and only preparation for it), "God be merciful to me a sinner." Say them then from your heart, and so come to the Lord's Supper. A PRAYER. "O God and Saviour, Thou hast blest me, and I have cursed myself. Thou didst die to deliver me from the curse of sin, and I have brought it back on myself by my own folly. Thou livest for ever to make me _good_, and I, ungrateful and foolish, have made myself _bad_. In spite of my ingratitude, in spite of my folly, take me back into Thy service. I trust utterly in Thy unchangeable goodness and mercy. I trust that Thy blood will still wash away the past, that Thy spirit will still give me a clean heart and a right spirit. I believe that though I have cursed myself, yet Thou wilt still bless me; for Thou wiliest nought but the good of every creature Thou hast made. God be merciful to me a sinner!" Amen. PART II. I. BRAVE WORDS FOR BRAVE SOLDIERS AND SAILORS. {199} My friends,--I speak to you simply as brave men. I speak alike to Roman Catholic and Protestant. I speak alike to godly men and ungodly. I speak alike to soldiers and sailors. . . . If you are _brave_, read these words. I call these _brave_ words. They are not my _own_ words, or my own message, but the message to you of the bravest man who ever lived, or who ever will live, and if you will read them and think over them, He will not _make_ you brave (for that, thank God, you are already), but _keep_ you brave, come victory or defeat. I speak to the brave men who have now fought three bloody battles, and fought them like heroes. All England has blessed you, and admired you; all England has felt for you in a way that would do your hearts good to see. For you know as well as I, that nothing is so comforting, nothing so endearing, as sympathy, as _to know that people feel for one_. If one knows that, one can dare and do anything. If one feels that nobody cares for one's suffering or one's success, one is ready to lie down and die. It is so with a horse or a dog even. If there is any noble spirit in them, a word of encouragement will make them go till they drop. How much more will the spirit of a _man_? I can well believe that the Queen's beautiful letter put more heart into you, than the hope of all the prize money in the world would have done; and that with the words of that letter ringing in your ears, you will prove true to the last, to the words of the grand old song-- "Hearts of oak are our ships, hearts of oak are our men, And we'll fight, and we'll conquer again, and again." But, my friends, you know as well as I, that there are times when neither that letter, nor the feeling of duty, nor of honour, nor of glory, can keep your hearts from sinking. Not in battle! No. Only cowards' hearts fail them there; and there are no cowards among you. But even a brave man's heart may fail him at whiles, when, instead of the enemy's balls and bayonets, he has to face delay, and disappointment, and fatigue, and sickness, and hunger, and cold, and nakedness; as you have, my brave brothers, and faced them as well as man ever did on earth. Ah! it must be fearful work to _sit still_, and shiver and starve in a foreign land, and to think of those who are in comfort and plenty at home; and worse, to think of those, who, even if they are in plenty, cannot be in comfort, because their hearts are breaking for your sake; to think of brother and sister, wife and child, while you are pacing up and down those dreary trenches, waiting for your turn of sickness, perhaps of death. It must be bitter and disheartening at times; you would not be men, if it was not. One minute, perhaps, you remember that those whom you have left at home, love you and pray for you; and that cheers you; then you remember that all England loves you, and prays for you in every church throughout the land; and that cheers you; but even that is not enough, you feel ready to say, "What is the use of my going through all this misery? Why am I not at home ploughing the ground, or keeping a shop, anything rather than throwing away my life by inches thus. My people at home feel for me, but they cannot know, they never will know, the half of what I have gone through. The nation will provide for me if I am crippled, but they cannot make up to me for losing the best years of my life in such work as this; and, if I am killed, can they make up to me for that? Who can make up to me for my life?" Have you not had such thoughts, my friends, and sadder thoughts still lately? You need not be ashamed of them if you have. For hard work you have had, and it must have told at times on your spirits as heavily as it has on your bodies. But, my friends, there is an answer for these sad thoughts. There are brave words for you, and a noble message from God, which will cheer you when nothing else can cheer you. If your own people cannot know all that you go through, there is One who can and does; if your own wives and mothers cannot feel enough for you, there is One above who does, and He is the Lord Jesus Christ. You have hungered; so has He. You have been weary; so has He. You have felt cold and nakedness; so has He. You have been houseless and sleepless, so has He. While the foxes had holes, and the birds of the air had nests, He, the maker of them all, had not where to lay His head. You have felt the misery of loneliness and desolation; but never so much as did He, when not only every earthly friend forsook Him and fled, but He cried out in His very death pangs, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" Above all, you have felt how difficult it was to die, not fighting sword in hand, but slowly and idly, and helplessly, by cholera or fever, hunger or cold. Terrible it is; but the Lord Jesus Christ has felt that too. For three years He looked death in the face--a death of shame and misery such as you can never die--and faced it, and gave Himself up to it of His own free will; and though He had the most horrible fear of it to the very last, He determined to submit to it, in spite of His own fear of it; and He did submit to it, and died, and so _showed_, _even in His very fear_, _the most perfect and glorious courage_. So if any one of you has ever felt for a single moment _afraid_; even in _that_, the Lord Jesus Christ can feel for you; for He, too, has gone through the agony of fear, when His sweat was as great drops of blood falling to the ground, that He might be able to help you, and every man that is tempted, because He can be touched with the feeling of your infirmities, having gone through every temptation which flesh is heir to, and conquered them all. This, then, is one half (and only one half) of my good news; that you have a Friend in heaven who feels for every trouble of yours, better than your own mothers can feel for you, because He has been through it all already; you have a Friend in heaven who is praying for you day and night, more earnestly, lovingly, wisely, than your own wives and children are praying for you. But that is not all. God forbid! You have a Friend in heaven, for whose sake God will forgive you all your sins and weaknesses, as often as you heartily confess them to Him, and trust in Him for a full and free pardon. You have a Friend in heaven who will help you day by day, where you most need help, in your hearts and spirits; who will give you, if you ask Him, _His Spirit_, the same spirit of duty, courage, endurance, love, self-sacrifice, which made Him brave to endure ten thousand times more than any soldier or sailor can endure, for the sake of doing His Father's will, and saving a ruined world. Oh! open your hearts to Him, my brave men, in your lonely night-watches--on your sick beds; ay, in the very roar of battle itself, ask Him to make you true and good, patient, calm, prudent, honourable, obedient, gentle, even in the hottest of the fight. Commit to Him your own lives and fortunes, and the lives and fortunes of those who have been left at home, and be sure that He, your Unseen Friend of friends, is able and willing to help to the uttermost all that you put into His charge. But, again, my men, if the nation cannot reward you for sacrificing your life in a just war, there is One above who can, and who will, too; for He is as just as He is loving, and as loving as He is just, and that is the same of whom I have spoken already, the Lord Jesus Christ. I think some of you will fancy this almost too good news to be true, and yet the very news which you want to hear. I think some of you have been saying as you read this, "All this is blessed and comforting news for poor fellows lying wounded in a hospital, or fretting their souls away about the wives and children they have left behind; blessed and comforting news; but we want something more than that even. We have to fight and to kill; we want to be sure that God's blessing is on our fighting and our killing; we have to go into battle; and we want to know that there, too, we are doing God's work, and to be sure that God is on our side." Well, my brave men, _Be sure of it then_! Be sure that God's blessing is as much upon you; be sure that you are doing God's work, as much when you are handling a musket or laying a gun in your country's battles, as when you are bearing frost and hunger in the trenches, and pain and weakness on a sick bed. For the Lord Jesus Christ is not only the _Prince of Peace_; He is the _Prince of War_ too. He is the Lord of Hosts, the God of armies; and whosoever fights in a just war, against tyrants and oppressors, he is fighting on Christ's side, and Christ is fighting on his side; Christ is his Captain and his Leader, and he can be in no better service. Be sure of it; for the Bible tells you so. The old wars of Abraham against the robber-kings; of Joshua against the Canaanites; of David against the Philistines; of Hezekiah against the Assyrians; of the Maccabees against the Greeks--all tell the soldier the same brave news, that he is doing God's work, and that God's blessing is on him, when he fights in a just cause. And you are fighting in a just cause, if you are fighting for freedom and law. If to you God gives the noble work of fighting for the liberty of Europe, God will reward you according as you do that work like men. You will be fighting in that everlasting war which is in heaven; in God's everlasting war against all injustice and wrong, the Captain and Leader whereof is the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. Believe that--for the Bible tells it you. You must think of the Lord Jesus Christ, not merely as a sufferer, but as a warrior; not merely as the Man of Sorrows (blessed as that thought is), but as the Lord of Hosts--the God of armies--the King who executes justice and judgment in the earth, who has sworn vengeance against all unrighteousness and wrong, and will destroy the wicked with the breath of His mouth. You must think of Him as the God of the fatherless and the widow; but you must think of Him, too, as the God of the sailor and the soldier, the God of duty, the God of justice, the God of vengeance, the God to whom _your colours were solemnly offered_, and _His blessing on them prayed for_, when they were given to your regiment. I know that you would follow those colours into the mouth of the pit, that you would die twice over sooner than let them be taken. Good! but remember, too, that those colours are a sign to you that Christ is with you, ready to give you courage, coolness, and right judgment, in the charge and in the death grapple, just as much as He is with those ministering angels who will nurse and tend your wounds in hospital. God's blessing is on them; but do you never forget that your colours are a sign to you that Christ's blessing is on _you_. If they do not mean that to you, what was the use of blessing them with prayer? It must have been a lie and a sham. But it is no lie, brave men, and no sham; it is a glorious truth, of which those noble rags, inscribed with noble names of victory, should remind you every day and every hour, that he who fights for Queen and country in a just cause, is fighting not only in the Queen's army, but in Christ's army, and that he shall in no wise lose his reward. Are not these brave words for brave soldiers? Well: they are not mine; they are the Bible's. The book of Revelation tells us how St. John saw a vision of the Lord Jesus Christ, and of His everlasting war against wrong, of which I spoke just now. And what did the Lord appear like? "_And I saw heaven opened_, _and behold a white horse_; _and he that sat upon him is called Faithful and True_, _and in righteousness He doth judge and make war_. _And His eyes were as a flame of fire_; _and He was clothed in a garment dipped in blood_; _and His name is called the Word of God_. _And the armies in heaven followed Him_, _riding upon white horses_, _clothed in fine linen_, _white and clean_. _And out of His mouth goeth a sharp sword_, _that He should smite the nations_; _and He shall rule them with a rod of iron_; _and He treadeth the winepress of the fierceness and of the wrath of almighty God_" (Rev. xix. 11). Are not these brave words, my friends? Are not these soldier-like words? Is not this a general worth following? Is not this a charge of cavalry worth sharing in? Then believe that that general, the Lord Jesus Christ, is your general. Believe that you are sharing in that everlasting charge, to which the glorious charge of Balaclava was as nothing; the everlasting war which the Lord Jesus wages against all sin, and cruelty, and wrong--in which He will never draw bridle-rein, or sheath His sword, till He has put all enemies under His feet, and swept all oppression, injustice, and wickedness off the face of the earth which God has given Him. Therefore I can say to you other brave words, my friends (and not my own, but the words of the same Lord Jesus Christ):--"Fear not them that can kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do. But I will forewarn you whom you shall fear; fear him who after he has killed has power to destroy both body and soul in hell." Now all England knows already that you do not fear those who can kill the body; but I sometimes fear that some of you are not enough afraid of that enemy worst of all, who can kill the soul too. And who is that? St. Paul tells us. He is "the devil, who has the power of death," who lies in ambuscade to destroy your body and soul in hell; and will and can do it; _but only if you let him_. Now who is the devil? It is worth your while to know; for many a man may be, as you are, in the ranks of God's army, and yet doing the devil's work all the while. Many a man may fancy himself a good soldier, and forget that a soldier is a man, and something more; and that therefore, before you can be a good soldier, you must first be more or less of a good man. Do you think not? Look then, and see whether the most upright and god-fearing men in your ranks are not in the long run the best soldiers. I don't mean merely the best _fighters_--the bravest men in battle. There goes more than mere bull- dog pluck to the making of a soldier; and to make a good soldier, I hold that a man, though he be afraid of nothing else, must be horribly afraid of the devil, and _that the better and braver soldier he is_, _the more afraid of the devil he will be_. Of course that depends upon who the devil is. I will tell you. He is what his name means, _the accuser and the divider_--the evil spirit who sets men against each other--men against officers, and officers against men; who sets men grumbling, puts hard suspicious thoughts into their minds; makes them selfish and forgetful of their duty, tempts them to care only for themselves, and help themselves. You must see that if those tempers once got head in an army, there would be an end of all discipline--of all obedience; and what is more, of all courage; for if the devil could completely persuade every man to care only for himself, the plain thing for every man to do, would be to turn round and run for his life. That you will never do; but you may give way to the devil in lesser matters, and so do God's work ill, and lose your own reward from God. All grumbling, and hard speeches, and tale-bearing is doing the devil's work. All disorder and laziness is doing the devil's work. All cruelty and brutality is doing the devil's work. Now as to cruelty and brutality, some soldiers fancy when towns are taken in war, that they may do things for which (to speak the truth) _they ought to be hanged_. I mean in plain English, ravishing the women, and ill-treating unarmed men, to make them give up their money. _Whosoever does these things_, _God's curse is on him_, and his sin will surely find him out. No excuse of being in hot blood will avail him. No excuse of having fought well beforehand will avail him. Such cant will no more excuse him with God than it will with truly noble-minded men. He may have been brave enough before, but he is doing a coward's deed then; he is doing the devil's work, _and the devil_, _and not God_, _will pay him his wages_, _to the uttermost farthing_. But though I tell you to fear the devil, it is only to fear his getting the command over you. The devil is a liar, and a liar is always a coward. Be brave in God's service. "Resist the devil and he will flee from you." One word more. If any of you are maddened by hearing of the enemy murdering some of your wounded--recollect that _revenge_ is one of the devil's works, of which the brave men cannot be too much afraid. God forbid that you should ever be maddened into imitating such cruelty. Fight the enemy in God's name--and strike home; but never have on your conscience the thought that you struck _an unnecessary blow_. _You are to kill for the sake of victory_, _but never to kill for the sake of killing_. You know who it was who prayed for and excused His own murderers as He hung upon the cross. "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." That was the same Lord Jesus who, as I told you, is the great Warrior against all wrong. If He was not ashamed to forgive, do you not be ashamed either. You cannot be more brave than He is; try, at least, to be merciful like Him. Overcome evil with good; by returning good for evil you will not only help England's cause by softening the hearts of your enemies, but you will preach Christ's gospel to them--and in nowise lose your reward. Remember then, always, our Lord Jesus Christ is the pattern of a perfect warrior, whether by land or sea; and if you be like Him, and fighting _not only on His side_, _but as He likes to see you fight_, that is, righteously and mercifully against the tyrants of the earth--what harm can happen to you? Be sure that whether you live, you will live to Him; or whether you die, you die to Him; that living or dying you will be His; and that He is merciful (the Bible says) in this, that He rewards every man according to his work. Do you your work like men, and be sure that the Lord Jesus Christ will see that you are right well paid, if not in this life, still in that life to come, to which may He bring you and all brave men, who will strive to do their duty in that station of life to which God has called them. II. THE STORY OF CORTEZ; OR PLUCK IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. A LECTURE DELIVERED AT ALDERSHOT CAMP, NOV. 1858. It seemed to me that, having to speak to-night to soldiers, that I ought to speak _about_ soldiers. Some story, I thought, about your own profession would please you most and teach you most. Some story, I say, for it is not my business to tell you what soldiers ought to be like. That, I daresay, you know a great deal better than I; and I only hope I may do my duty as a parson half as well as British soldiers do their duty, and will always do it. So I thought of telling you to-night some sort of a story--a true one, of course, about wars and battles--some story about the British army; but then I thought there are plenty of officers who can do that far better than I,--so I will take some story of foreign armies, and one of old times too. And though no soldier myself, but only a scholar, and reader of queer old books, I may make my scholarship of some use to you who have to drill and fight, and die too, for us comfortable folks who sit at home and read our books by our fireside. Then I thought of the story of Cortez the Spaniard, and how he conquered the great empire of Mexico with a handful of brave men. That, I thought, would be an example to you of what men can do who have stout hearts and good weapons, and who have faith too in God, and believe that if they do their duty God will prosper them. And I thought I could do it all the better, because I like the story, and enjoy reading it again and again; for I know no such dashing and desperate deed of courage in history, except Havelock's advance upon Lucknow. So now I will begin my story, telling you first where Mexico is, and what it was like when Cortez landed in it, more than three hundred years ago. You, all of you, have heard of the West India station--some of you have been there. Beyond those West India Islands lies the great Gulf of Mexico, and beyond that the mainland of North America, and Mexico itself. It is now thinly peopled by Spaniards, the descendants of settlers who came over after Cortez's time; and a very lazy, cowardly set most of them are,--very different from the old heroes, their forefathers. Our Yankee cousins can lick them now, one to five, and will end, I believe, in conquering the whole country. But in Cortez's time, the place was very different. It was full of vast numbers of heathens, brownish coloured people, something like the Red Indians you see in Canada, but a fairer, handsomer, stouter, heavier-bodied race; and much more civilised also. They had great cities and idol temples, aqueducts for water, and all sorts of noble buildings, all of most curiously carved stone; which is all the more wonderful and creditable to them, when we remember that they had no iron--not a knife--not a nail of iron among them. But they had found out how to make bronze by mixing tin and copper, and with it could work the hardest stones, as well as we can with iron. They had another stuff which was curious enough, of which they made knives, razors, arrow heads, and saw-edged swords as keen as razors--and that was _glass_. They did not make the glass--they found it about the burning mountains, of which Mexico is full; itztli they called it; we call it obsidian. It is tougher than our glass, and chips to a fine razor edge. I have seen arrows of it, which I am certain would go clean through a man, and knives which would take his arm off, bone and all. I want you to remember these glass weapons, for Cortez's Spaniards had cause enough to remember them when they came to fight. Gunpowder, of course, they knew nothing of, nor of horses or cattle either. They had no beasts of draught; and all the stones and timber for their magnificent buildings were carried by hand. But they were first-rate farmers; and for handicraft work, such as pottery, weaving, and making all kinds of ornaments, I can answer for it, for I have seen a good deal of their work--they had not then their equals in the world. They made the most beautiful dresses out of the feathers of birds--parrots, humming birds, and such like, which fill the forests in hot countries. And what was more, their country abounded in gold and jewels, and they knew how to work them, just as well as we do. They could work gold into the likeness of flowers, of birds with every feather like life, and into a thousand trinkets. Their soil was most fruitful of all that man can want--there was enough of the best for all to eat; and altogether there never was a richer, and need never have been a happier people, if they had but been good. But that was just what they were not. A bad lot they were, cruel and blood-thirsty, continually at war with each other; and as for cruelty, just take this one story. At the opening of a great temple to one of their idols in 1486, about thirty years before the Spaniards came, they sacrificed to the idol seventy-thousand human beings! This offering in sacrifice of human beings to their idols was their regular practice. They got these poor creatures by conquering all the nations round, and carrying back their prisoners to sacrifice; and if they failed, they took poor people of their own, for blood they and their false gods must have. Men, and sometimes women and children, were murdered by them in their temples, often with the most horrible tortures, to the number, I am afraid there is no doubt of it, of many thousands every year; and their flesh afterwards cooked delicately, was eaten as a luxury by people who, as far as outward show went, were just as fine gentlemen and ladies as there are now. When the Spaniards got into Mexico, they found the walls of the temples crusted inches thick in blood, the altars of the idols heaped with smoking human hearts, and whole houses full of skulls. They counted in one house one hundred and thirty-six thousand skulls. It was high time to get rid of those Mexicans off the face of the earth; and in God's good time a man was found to rid the earth of them, and that man was Hernando Cortez. And who was Cortez? He was a poor young Spanish gentleman, son of an infantry captain, who, in his youth, was sickly and weakly; and his father tried to make a lawyer of him, and would have done it, but young Cortez kicked over the traces, as we say, right and left, and turned out such a wild fellow, that he would not stay at college; and after getting into plenty of scrapes, started as a soldier to the West Indies when he was only nineteen. Little did people think what stuff there was in that wild, sickly lad! How he got on in the Spanish West Indies would be a long story. I will only tell you that he turned out a thoroughly good soldier, and a very dashing smart fellow, a first-rate rider and fencer, a great dandy in his dress; but also--and if you go to hot climates, keep this in mind--a particularly sober and temperate man, who drank nothing, and could eat anything. And he had, it is said, the most extraordinary power of managing his men. He was always cool and determined; and what he said had to be done, and they knew it; but his way with them was so frank and kind, and he was so ready to be the foremost in daring and enduring, living worse often than his own men, while he was doing every thing for their comfort, that there was nothing they would not do for him, as the event proved--for if those soldiers had not trusted him for life and death, I should not have this grand story to tell. At last he married a very pretty woman, and got an estate in the West Indies, and settled down there; and the chances were ten to one that no one ever heard of him. However, dim reports came to the West Indies of this great empire of Mexico, and of all its wonders and wealth, and that stirred up Cortez's blood; and nothing would serve him but that leaving wife and estate, he must start out again to seek his fortune. He got a commission from the Governor, such as it was, for they were lawless places those Spanish West Indies then; and everybody fulfilled a certain Irishman's notion of true liberty--for he did "what was right in the sight of his own eyes, and what _was wrong too_"--and Cortez's commission was to go and discover this country, and trade with the people, and make Christians of them--that is, if he could. So he got together a little army, and sailed away with it for the unknown land. He had about one hundred sailors, five hundred and fifty soldiers armed with sword and pike, and among them thirty-two cross-bow men, and thirteen musketeers. Above all, he had sixteen horses, ten heavy guns--or what may be called heavy guns in those times--about 9-pounders, I suppose, and four smaller guns; and with that he set out to conquer a new world; _and he conquered it_! He did not know whither he was going. All he knew was, that this wonderful country of Mexico was _somewhere_, and treasures inestimable in it. And one other thing he knew, that if mortal man _could_ get there, he _would_. He landed at Tabasco--where Vera Cruz city stands now--fought with the Indians, who ran away at the sight of the horses and noise of the cannon; and then made friends with them. From them he got presents, and among others, a present which was worth more than its weight in gold to him, namely, a young slave girl, who had been born near Mexico, and knew the language. She was very clever, and very beautiful; and soon learnt to speak Spanish. She had been a princess in her own country, and was sold as a slave by her cruel stepmother. They made a Christian of her, and called her Dona Marina,--her Indian name was Malinche,--and she became Cortez's interpreter to the Indians, and his secretary. And she loved him and served him as faithfully as true woman ever loved man, and saved him and his from a hundred dangers. And the Spaniards reverence her name still; and call a mighty snow mountain after her, Malinche, to this day. After that he marched inland, hearing more and more of the wonders of Mexico, till he came at last, after many adventures, to a country called Tlascala, up among high mountains. The men who lived there seem to have been rough honest fellows; and brave enough they showed themselves. The Mexicans who lived in the plains below never could conquer them, though they had been fighting with them for full two hundred years. These Tlascalans turned out like men, and fought Cortez--one hundred Indians to one Spaniard they fought for four mortal hours; but horses and cannon were too much for them, and by evening they were beaten off. They attempted to surprise him the same night, and were beaten off again with great slaughter. Whereon a strange thing happened. Cortez, through Dona Marina, his interpreter, sent them in fair terms. If they would make peace he would forget and forgive all; if not, he would kill every man of them, and level their city to the ground. Whereon, after more fighting, the Tlascalans behaved like wise and brave men. They understood at last that Cortez's point was not Tlascala, but Mexico; and the Mexicans were their bitterest enemies; and they had the good sense to shake hands with the Spaniards, and make all up. And faithful friends they were, and bravely they fought side by side during all the terrible campaign that followed. Meanwhile, Cortez's own men began to lose heart. They had had terrible fighting already, and no plunder. As for getting to Mexico, it was all a dream. But Cortez and Dona Marina, this wonderful Indian girl, kept them up. No doubt they were in awful danger--a handful of strangers walking blindfold in a vast empire, not one foot of ground of which they knew: but Cortez knew the further they went the further they must go, for it was impossible to go back. So on and on they went; and as they went they met ambassadors from Montezuma, the great Emperor of Mexico. The very sight of these men confirmed all that they had heard of the riches of that great empire, for these Indian lords came blazing with gold and jewels, and the most magnificent dresses; and of their power, for at one city which had let Cortez in peaceably without asking the Emperor's leave, they demanded as a fine five and twenty Indian young men and forty girls to be offered in sacrifice to their idols. Cortez answered that by clapping them in irons, and then sending them back to the Emperor, with a message that whether he liked or not, he was coming to Mexico. You may call that desperate rashness; but like a good deal of rashness, it paid. This great Emperor Montezuma was utterly panic-stricken. There were old prophecies that white gods should come over the sea and destroy him and his empire; and he took it into his head that these Spaniards were the white gods, and that there was no use resisting them. He had been a brave man in his youth, and a great warrior; but he utterly lost his head now. He sent magnificent presents to the Spaniards to buy them off; but that only made them the more keen to come on; and come they did, till they saw underneath them the city of Mexico, which must have been then one of the wonders of the world. It lay in the midst of a great salt lake, and could only be reached from shore by long causeways, beautifully built of stone. On this lake were many islands; and what was most curious of all, floating gardens, covered with all sorts of vegetables and flowers. How big the city was no one will ever know now; but the old ruins of it show how magnificent its buildings must have been, full of palaces and temples of every kind of carved stone, surrounded by flower gardens, while the whole city was full of fountains, supplied with pure water brought in pipes from the mountains round. I suppose so beautiful a sight as that city of Mexico has never been seen since on earth. Only one ugly feature there was in it--great pyramids of stone, hundreds of them, with idol temples on the top, on each of which was kept up a perpetual fire, fed with the fat of human beings. To their surprise the Emperor received them peaceably, came out to meet them, gave them such presents, that the common soldiers were covered with chains of gold; invited them into the city, and gave them a magnificent palace to live in, and endless slaves to wait upon them. It sounds all like a fairy tale; but it is as true as that you and I are here. But the cunning emperor had been plotting against them all the while; and no great blame to him; and at last one of those plots came to light; and Cortez made up his mind to take the Emperor prisoner. And he did it. Right or wrong, we can hardly say now. This Montezuma was a bad, false man, a tyrant and a cannibal; but still it looks ugly to seize a man who is acting as your friend. However, Cortez had courage, in the midst of that great city, with hundreds of thousands of Indians round him, to go and tell the Emperor that he must come with him. And--so strong is a man when he chooses to be strong--the Emperor actually went with Cortez a prisoner. Cortez--and that was an unworthy action--put him in irons for an hour, to show him that he was master; and then took off his irons, and treated him like a king. The poor Emperor had all he wanted--all his wives, and slaves, and finery, and eatables, and drinkables; but he was a mere puppet in the Spaniard's hands; and knew it. And strangely enough, not being able to get out of his mind the fancy that these Spaniards were gods, or at least, the children of the gods, he treated them so generously and kindly, that they all loved him; he obeyed them in everything; took up a great friendship with several; and ended actually by giving them all his treasures of gold to melt down and part among themselves. As I say, it sounds all like a fairy tale, but it happened in this very month of November 1519. But Cortez had been too prosperous not to meet with a mishap. Every great man must be tried by trouble; and so was Cortez. News came to him that a fresh army of Spaniards had landed, as he thought at first, to help him. They had nine hundred men, eighty of whom were horse soldiers, eighty musqueteers, one hundred and fifty cross-bow men, a good train of heavy guns, ammunition, &c. What was Cortez's disgust when he found that the treacherous Governor of Cuba had sent them, not to help him, but to take him prisoner as a rebel? It was a villainous business got up out of envy of Cortez's success, and covetousness of his booty. But in the Spanish colonies in those days, so far from home, there was very little law; and the governors and adventurers were always quarrelling and fighting with each other. What did Cortez do? made up his mind as usual to do the desperate thing, and marched against Narvaez with only seventy men, no guns, and hardly any muskets--seventy against nine hundred. It was fearful odds; but he was forced to leave the rest to keep Mexico down. And he armed his men with very long lances, tipped at both ends with copper--for he had no iron; with them he hoped to face Narvaez's cavalry. And he did it. Happily on his road he met an old friend with one hundred and twenty soldiers, who had been sent off to form a colony on the coast. They were as true as steel to him. And with that one hundred and ninety he surprised and defeated by night Narvaez's splendid little army. And what is more, after beating them, made such friends with them, that he engaged them all next morning to march with him wherever he wanted. The man was like a spider--whoever fell into his net, friend or foe, never came out again till he had sucked him dry. Now he hurried back to Mexico, and terribly good reason he had; for Alvarado whom he had left in garrison had quarrelled with the Mexicans, and set upon them at one of their idol feasts, and massacred great numbers of their leading men. It was a bloody black business, and bitterly the Spaniards paid for it. Cortez when he heard it actually lost his temper for once, and called his lieutenant-general a madman and a traitor; but he could not afford to cashier him, for after all he was the best and bravest man he had. But the mischief was done. The whole city of Mexico, the whole country round, had risen in fury, had driven the Spanish garrison into the great palace; and worst of all, had burnt the boats, which Cortez had left to get off by, if the bridges were burst down. So there was Alvarado shut up, exactly like the English at Lucknow, with this difference, that the Spaniards deserved what they got, and the English, God knows, _did not_. And there was Cortez like another Havelock or Colin Campbell marching to deliver them. But he met a very different reception. These crafty Mexicans never struck a blow. All was as still as the grave. As they came over the long causeways and bridges, there was not a canoe upon the lake, not an Indian in the floating gardens. As they marched through the streets of the glorious city, the streets were as empty as a desert. And the Spaniard knew that he was walking into a trap, out of which none of them might come out alive; but their hearts never failed them, and they marched on to the sound of their bugles, and were answered by joyful salutes of cannon from the relieved garrison. The Mexicans had shut up the markets, and no food was to be got. Cortez sent to open them. He sent another messenger off to the coast to say all was safe, and that he should soon conquer the rebels. But here, a cleverer man than I must tell the story. "But scarcely had his messenger been gone half an hour, when he returned breathless with terror and covered with wounds. 'The city,' he said, 'was all in arms! the drawbridges were raised, and the enemy would soon be upon them! He spoke truth. It was not long before a hoarse sullen sound became audible, like that of the roaring of distant waters. It grew louder and louder, till from the parapet surrounding the enclosure, the great avenues which led to it might be seen dark with the masses of warriors, who came rolling on in a confused tide towards the fortress. At the same time the terraces and flat roofs in the neighbourhood were thronged with combatants, brandishing their missiles, who seemed to have risen up as if by magic! It was a spectacle to appall the stoutest. The Spanish forces were crowded into a small compact mass in the palace, and the whole army could be assembled at a moment's notice. No sooner, therefore, did the trumpet call to arms, than every soldier was at his post--the cavalry mounted, the artillerymen at their guns, and the archers and arquebusiers stationed so as to give the assailants a warm reception. On they came, with the companies, or irregular masses, into which the multitude was divided, rushing forward each in its own dense column, with many a gay banner displayed, and many a bright gleam of light reflected from helmet, arrow, and spear head, as they were tossed about in their disorderly array. As they drew near, the Aztecs set up a hideous yell, which rose far above the sound of shell and atabat, and their other rude instruments of warlike melody. They followed this by a tempest of missiles--stones, darts, arrows--which fell thick as rain on the besieged. The Spaniards waited till the foremost column had arrived, when a general discharge of artillery and arquebusses swept the ranks of the assailants, and mowed them down by hundreds." {222} . . . So the fight raged on with fury for two days, while the Aztecs, Indians who only fought by day, howled out to the wretched Spaniards every night. On the third day Cortez brought out the Emperor Montezuma, and commanded him to quiet the Indians. The unhappy man obeyed him. He had made up his mind that these Spaniards were the white gods, who were to take his kingdom from him, and he submitted to them like a sheep to the butcher. He went up to a tower in all his royal robes and jewels. At the sight the Indians who filled the great square below were all hushed--thousands threw themselves on their faces; and to their utter astonishment, he asked them what they meant by rebelling. He was no prisoner, he said, but the Spaniard's guest and friend. The Spaniards would go peaceably, if they would let them. In any case he was the Spaniard's friend. The Indians answered him by a yell of fury and contempt. He was a dog--a woman--fit only to weave and spin; and a volley of stones and arrows flew at him. One struck him on the head and dropped him senseless. The Indians set up a howl of terror; and frightened at what they had done, fled away ashamed. The wretched Emperor refused comfort, food, help, tore the bandages from his wounds, and died in two days. He had been a bad man, a cannibal, and a butcher, blood-thirsty and covetous, a ravisher of virgins, and a tyrant to his people. But the Spaniards had got to love him in spite of all; for a true friend he had been to them, and a fearful loss to them just now. The battle went on worse than ever. The great idol temple commanded the palace, and was covered with Mexican warriors. And next day Cortez sent a party to storm it. They tried to get up the winding stairs, and were driven back three times with fearful loss. Cortez, though he had but one hand to fight with, sallied out and cleared the pyramid himself, after a fearful hand-to-hand fight of three hours, up the winding stairs, along the platforms, and at last upon the great square on the top, an acre in breadth. Every Mexican was either killed, or hurled down the sides. The idol, the war god, with its gold disc of bleeding hearts smoking before it, was hurled down and the whole accursed place set on fire and destroyed. Three hundred houses round were also burnt that night; but of what use? The Spaniards were starving, hemmed in by hundreds of thousands. They were like a single wasp inside a bee-hive. Let him kill the bees by hundreds, he must be killed himself at last. He made up his mind to evacuate the city, to leave all his conquests behind him. It was a terrible disappointment, but it had to be done. They marched out by night in good order, with all their guns and ammunition, and with immense plunder; as much of poor Montezuma's treasures as they could carry. The old hands took very little; they knew what they were about. The fresh ones from Narvaez's army loaded themselves with gold and jewels, and had to pay dear for them. Cortez, I ought to tell you, took good care of Dona Marina. He sent her forward under a strong guard of Tlascalans, with all the other women. The great street was crossed by many canals. Then the causeway across the lake, two miles long, was crossed by more canals, and at every one of these the Indians had taken away the bridges. Cortez knew that, and had made a movable bridge; but he had only time to make one, and that of course had to be taken up at the rear, and carried forward to the front every time they crossed a dyke; and that made endless delay. As long as they were in the city, however, all went well; but the moment they came out upon the lake causeway, out thundered the serpent-skin drums from the top of every temple, the conch shells blew, and out swarmed the whole hive of bees, against the one brave wasp who was struggling. The Spaniards cleared the dyke by cavalry and artillery, and got to the first canal, laid down the bridge, and over slowly but safely, amid a storm of stones and arrows. They got to the second canal, fifteen or twenty feet broad. Why, in God's name, was not the bridge brought on? Instead of the bridge came news from the rear. The weight of the artillery had been too great for the bridge, and it was jammed fast. And there they were on a narrow dyke fifty feet broad, in the midst of the lake, in the dark midnight, with countless thousands of Indians, around, before, behind, and the lord have mercy on them! What followed you may guess--though some of the brave men who fought there, and who wrote the story themselves--which I have read--hardly knew. The cavalry tried to swim their horses over. Some got safe, others rolled into the lake. The infantry followed pell mell, cut down like sheep by arrows and stones, by the terrible glass swords of the Indians, who crowded round their canoes. The waggons prest on the men, the guns on them, the rear on them again, till in a few minutes the canal was choked with writhing bodies of men and horses, cannon, gold and treasure inestimable, over which the survivors scrambled to the further bank. Cortez, who was helping the rear forded the gap on horseback, and hurried on to find a third and larger canal which no one dare cross. But the Indians were not so thick here, and plunging into the water they got through as they could. And woe that night to the soldier who had laden himself with Indian treasure. Dragged to the bottom by the weight of their plunder, hundreds died there drowned by that very gold to find which they had crossed the seas, and fought so many a bloody battle. What is the use of making a sad story long? They reached the shore, and sat down like men desperate and foredone in a great idol temple. Several of their finest officers, three-fourths of their men, were killed and missing, three-fourths too of their horses--all Cortez's papers, all their cannon, all their treasure. They had not even a musket left. Nothing to face the Indians with but twenty-three crippled horses, a few damaged crossbows, and their good old swords. Cortez's first question was for poor Dona Marima, and strange to say she was safe. The trusty Tlascalan Indians had brought her through it all. Alvarado the lieutenant was safe too. If he had been the cause of all that misery, he did his best to make up for it. He stayed behind fighting at the last canal till all were over, and the Indians closing round him. Then he set his long lance in the water, and to the astonishment of both armies, leapt the canal clean, while the Indians shouted, "This is indeed the Tonatiah, the child of the Sun." The gap is shown now, and it is called to this day, Alvarado's Leap. God forgive him! for if he was a cruel man, he was at least a brave one! Cortez sat down, a ruined man, and as he looked round for his old comrades, and missed one face after another, he covered his face with his hands and cried like a child. And was he a ruined man? Never less. No man is ruined till his pluck is gone. He got his starving and shivering men together, and away for the mountains to get back to the friendly people of Tlascala. The people followed them along the hills shouting, "Go on! you will soon find yourselves where you cannot escape." But he went on--till he saw what they meant. Waiting for him in a pass was an army of Indians--two hundred thousand, some writers say--all fresh and fully armed. What could he do? To surrender, was to be sacrificed every man to the idols; so he marched on. He had still twenty horses, and he put ten on each flank. He bade his men not strike with their sword but give the point. He made a speech to his men. They had beaten the Indians, he said, many a time at just as fearful odds. God had brought them through so far, God would not desert them, for they were fighting on His side against the heathen; and so he went straight at the vast army of Indians. They were surrounded, swallowed up by them for a few minutes. In the course of an hour the Spaniards had routed them utterly with immense slaughter. Of all the battles I ever read of, this battle of Otumba is one of the most miraculous. Some say that Cortez conquered Mexico by gunpowder: he had none then, neither cannon nor musket. The sword and lance did it all, and they in the hands of men worn out with famine, cold, and fatigue, and I had said broken-hearted into the bargain. But there was no breaking those men's hearts--what won that battle, what won Mexico, was the indomitable pluck of the white man, before which the Indian, whether American or Hindoo, never has stood, and never will stand to the world's end. The Spaniards proved it in America of old, though they were better armed than the Indian. But there are those who have proved it upon Indians as well armed as themselves. Ay, my friends, I should be no Englishman, if while I told this story, I could help thinking all the while of our brave comrades in India, who have conquered as Cortez conquered, and against just as fearful odds; whose enemies were armed, not with copper arrows and glass knives, but with European muskets, European cannon, and most dangerous of all, European discipline. I say Cortez did wonders in his time; but I say too that our Indian heroes have done more, and done it in a better cause. And that is the history of the conquest of Mexico. What, you may ask, is that the end? When we are leaving the Spaniards a worn-out and starving handful struggling back for refuge to Tlascala, without anything but their old swords; do you call _that_ a conquest? Yes, I do; just as I call the getting back to Cawnpore, after the relief of Lucknow, the conquest of India. It showed which was the better man, Englishman or sepoy, just as the retreat from Mexico showed which was the better man, Spaniard or Indian. The sepoys were cowed from that day, just as the Mexicans were cowed after Otumba. They had fought with all possible odds on their side, and been _licked_; and when men are once cowed, all the rest is merely a work of time. So it was with Cortez. He went back to Tlascala. He got by mere accident, as we say, a reinforcement of Spaniards. He stirred up all the Indian nations round, who were weary of the cruel tyranny of the Mexicans; he made large boats to navigate the lake, and he marched back upon Mexico the next year with about six hundred Spaniards and nine cannon--about half the force which he had had before; but with a hundred thousand Indian allies, who, like the sturdy Tlascalans, proved as true to him as steel. Truly, if he was not a great general, who is? He marched back, taking city after city as he went, and besieged Mexico. It was a long and weary siege. The Indians fought like fiends. The causeways had to be taken yard by yard; but Cortez, wise by sad experience, put his cannon into the boats and swept them from the water. Then the city had to be taken house by house. The Indians drove him back again and again, till they were starved to skeletons, and those who used to eat their enemies were driven to eat each other. Still they would not give in. At last, after many weeks of fighting, it was all over. The glorious Mexican empire was crumbled to dust. Those proud nobles, who used to fat themselves upon the bodies of all the nations round, were reduced to a handful of starving beggars. The cross of Christ was set up, where the hearts of human creatures were offered to foul idols, and Mexico has been ever since the property of the Spaniards, a Christian land. And what became of Cortez? He died sadly and in disgrace. He sowed, and other men reaped. If he was cruel and covetous, he was punished for it in this world heavily enough. He had many noble qualities though. He was a better man than those around him; and one good thing he did, which was to sweep off the face of the earth as devilish a set of tyrants as ever defiled the face of the earth. Give him all due honour for it, and let him rest in peace. God shall judge him and not we. But take home with you, soldiers all, one lesson from this strange story, that while a man can keep his courage and his temper, he is not only never really beaten, but no man can tell what great things he may not do. III. PICTURE GALLERIES. Picture-galleries should be the working-man's paradise, {230} a garden of pleasure, to which he goes to refresh his eyes and heart with beautiful shapes and sweet colouring, when they are wearied with dull bricks and mortar, and the ugly colourless things which fill the town, the workshop and the factory. For, believe me, there is many a road into our hearts besides our ears and brains; many a sight, and sound, and scent, even, of which we have never _thought_ at all, sinks into our memory, and helps to shape our characters; and thus children brought up among beautiful sights and sweet sounds will most likely show the fruits of their nursing, by thoughtfulness and affection, and nobleness of mind, even by the expression of the countenance. The poet Wordsworth, talking of training up a beautiful country girl, says:-- "The floating clouds their state shall lend To her--for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see, Even in the motions of the storm, _Grace which shall mould the maiden's form_, _By silent sympathy_. * * * * * And she shall bend her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, _And beauty_, _born of murmuring sound_, _Shall pass into her face_." Those who live in towns should carefully remember this, for their own sakes, for their wives' sakes, for their children's sakes. _Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful_. Beauty is God's handwriting--a wayside sacrament; welcome it in every fair face, every fair sky, every fair flower, and thank _Him_ for it, who is the fountain of all loveliness, and drink it in, simply and earnestly, with all your eyes; it is a charmed draught, a cup of blessing. Therefore I said that picture-galleries should be the townsman's paradise of refreshment. Of course, if he can get the real air, the real trees, even for an hour, let him take it, in God's name; but how many a man who cannot spare time for a daily country walk, may well slip into the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square (or the South Kensington Museum), or any other collection of pictures, for ten minutes. _That_ garden, at least, flowers as gaily in winter as in summer. Those noble faces on the wall are never disfigured by grief or passion. There, in the space of a single room, the townsman may take his country walk--a walk beneath mountain peaks, blushing sunsets, with broad woodlands spreading out below it; a walk through green meadows, under cool mellow shades, and overhanging rocks, by rushing brooks, where he watches and watches till he seems to _hear_ the foam whisper, and to _see_ the fishes leap; and his hard worn heart wanders out free, beyond the grim city-world of stone and iron, smoky chimneys, and roaring wheels, into the world of beautiful things--_the world which shall be hereafter_--ay, which shall be! Believe it, toil-worn worker, in spite of thy foul alley, thy crowded lodging, thy grimed clothing, thy ill-fed children, thy thin, pale wife--believe it, thou too and thine, will some day have _your_ share of beauty. God made you love beautiful things only because He intends hereafter to give you your fill of them. That pictured face on the wall is lovely, but lovelier still may the wife of thy bosom be when she meets thee on the resurrection morn! Those baby cherubs in the old Italian painting--how gracefully they flutter and sport among the soft clouds, full of rich young life and baby joy! Yes, beautiful indeed, but just such a one at this very moment is that once pining, deformed child of thine, over whose death-cradle thou wast weeping a month ago; now a child-angel, whom thou shalt meet again never to part! Those landscapes, too, painted by loving, wise old Claude, two hundred years ago, are still as fresh as ever. How still the meadows are! how pure and free that vault of deep blue sky! No wonder that thy worn heart, as thou lookest, sighs aloud, "Oh that I had wings as a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest." Ah, but gayer meadows and bluer skies await thee in the _world to come_--that fairy-land made real--"the new heavens and the new earth," which God has prepared for the pure and the loving, the just and the brave, who have conquered in this sore fight of life! These thoughts may seem all too far-fetched to spring up in a man's head from merely looking at pictures; but it is not so in practice. See, now, such thoughts have sprung up in _my_ head; how else did I write them down here? And why should not they, and better ones, too, spring up in your heads, friends? It is delightful to watch in a picture-gallery some street-boy enjoying himself; how first wonder creeps over his rough face, and then a sweeter, more earnest, awestruck look, till his countenance seems to grow handsomer and nobler on the spot, and drink in and reflect unknowingly, the beauty of the picture he is studying. See how some soldier's face will light up before the painting which tells him a noble story of bye-gone days. And why? Because he feels as if he himself had a share in the story at which he looks. They may be noble and glorious men who are painted there; but they are still _men_ of like passions with himself, and his man's heart understands them and glories in them; and he begins, and rightly, to respect himself the more when he finds that he, too, has a fellow-feeling with noble men and noble deeds. I say, pictures raise blessed thoughts in me--why not in you, my brothers? Your hearts are fresh, thoughtful, kindly; you only want to have these pictures explained to you, that you may know _why_ and _how_ they are beautiful, and what feelings they ought to stir in your minds. Look at the portraits on the walls, and let me explain one or two. Often the portraits are simpler than large pictures, and they speak of real men and women who once lived on this earth of ours--generally of remarkable and noble men--and man should be always interesting to man. IV. A PORTRAIT IN THE NATIONAL GALLERY. "Any one who goes to the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square, may see two large and beautiful pictures--the nearer of the two labelled 'Titian,' representing Bacchus leaping from a car drawn by leopards. The other, labelled 'Francia,' representing the Holy Family seated on a sort of throne, with several figures arranged below--one of them a man pierced with arrows. Between these two, low down, hangs a small picture, about two feet square, containing only the portrait of an old man, in a white cap and robe, and labelled on the picture itself, '_Joannes Bellinus_.' Now this old man is a very ancient friend of mine, and has comforted my heart, and preached me a sharp sermon, too, many a time. I never enter that gallery without having five minutes' converse with him; and yet he has been dead at least three hundred years, and, what is more, I don't even know his name. But what more do I know of a man by knowing his name? Whether the man's name be Brown, or whether he has as many names and titles as a Spanish grandee, what does that tell me about the _man_?--the spirit and character of the man--what the man will say when he is asked--what the man will do when he is stirred up to action? The man's name is part of his clothes; his shell; his husk. Change his name and all his titles, you don't change _him_--'a man's a man for a' that,' as Burns says; and a goose a goose. Other men gave him his name; but his heart and his spirit--his love and his hatred--his wisdom and his folly--his power to do well and ill; those God and himself gave him. I must know those, and then I know the _man_. Let us see what we can make out from the picture itself about the man whom it represents. In the first place, we may see by his dress that he was in his day the Doge (or chief magistrate) of Venice--the island city, the queen of the seas. So we may guess that he had many a stirring time of it, and many a delicate game to play among those tyrannous and covetous old merchant-princes who had elected him; who were keeping up their own power at the expense of everyone's liberty, by spies and nameless accusers, and secret councils, tortures, and prisons, whose horrors no one ever returned to describe. Nay, we may guess just the very men with whom he had to deal--the very battles he may have seen fought. "But all these are _circumstances_--things which _stand round_ the man (as the word means), and not the whole man himself--not the character and heart of the man: that we must get from the portrait; and if the portrait is a truly noble portrait we shall get it. If it is a merely vulgar picture, we shall get the man's dress and shape of his face, but little or no expression: if it is a _pathetic_ portrait, or picture of passion, we shall get one particular temporary expression of his face--perhaps joy, sorrow, anger, disgust--but still one which may have passed any moment, and left his face quite different; but if the picture is one of the noblest kind, we shall read the man's whole character there; just all his strength and weakness, his kindliness or his sternness, his thoughtfulness or his carelessness, written there once and for ever;--what he would be, though all the world passed away; what his immortal and eternal soul will be, unless God or the devil changed his heart, to all eternity. "We may see at once that this man has been very handsome; but it is a peculiar sort of beauty. How delicate and graceful all the lines in his face are!--he is a gentleman of God's own making, and not of the tailor's making. He is such a gentleman as I have seen among working men and nine- shilling-a-week labourers, often and often; his nobleness is in his heart--it is God's gift, therefore it shows in his noble looking face. No matter whether he were poor or rich; all the rags in the world, all the finery in the world, could not have made him look like a snob or a swell. He was a thoughtful man, too; no one with such a forehead could have been a trifler: a kindly man, too, and honest--one that may have played merrily enough with his grandchildren, and put his hand in his purse for many a widow and orphan. Look what a bright, clear, straightforward, gentle look he has, almost a smile; but he has gone through too many sad hours to smile much: he is a man of many sorrows, like all true and noble rulers; and, like a high mountain-side, his face bears the furrows of many storms. He has had a stern life of it, with the cares of a great nation on his shoulders. He has seen that in this world there is no rest for those who live like true men: you may see it by the wrinkles in his brow, and the sharp-cut furrows in his cheeks, and those firm-set, determined lips. His eyes almost show the marks of many noble tears,--tears such as good men shed over their nation's sins; but that, too, is past now. He has found out his path, and he will keep it; and he has no misgiving now about what God would have him do, or about the reward which God has laid up for the brave and just; and that is what makes his forehead so clear and bright, while his very teeth are clenched with calm determination. And by the look of those high cheek bones, and that large square jaw, he is a strong-willed man enough, and not one to be easily turned aside from his purpose by any man alive, or by any woman either, or by his own passions and tempers. One fault of character, I think, he may perhaps have had much trouble with--I mean bitterness and contemptuousness. His lips are very thin; he may have sneered many a time, when he was younger, at the follies of the world which that great, lofty, thoughtful brain and clear eye of his told him were follies; but he seems to have got past that too. Such is the man's character: a noble, simple, commanding old man, who has conquered many hard things, and, hardest of all, has conquered himself, and now is waiting calm for his everlasting rest. God send us all the same. "Now consider the deep insight of old John Bellini, who could see all this, and put it down there for us with pencil and paint. No doubt there was something in Bellini's own character which made him especially best able to paint such a man; for we always understand those who are most like ourselves; and therefore you may tell pretty nearly a painter's own character by seeing what sort of subjects he paints, and what his style of painting is. And a noble, simple, brave, godly man was old John Bellini, who never lost his head, though princes were flattering him and snobs following him with shouts and blessings for his noble pictures of the Venetian victories, as if he had been a man sent from God Himself, as indeed he was--all great painters are; for who but God makes beauty? Who gives the loving heart, and the clear eye, and the graceful taste to see beauty and to copy it, and to set forth on canvas, or in stone, the noble deeds of patriots dying for their country? To paint truly patriotic pictures well, a man must have his heart in his work--he must be a true patriot himself, as John Bellini was (if I mistake not, he had fought for his country himself in more than one shrewd fight). And what makes men patriots, or artists, or anything noble at all, but the spirit of the living God? Those great pictures of Bellini's are no more; they were burnt a few years afterwards, with the magnificent national hall in which they hung; but the spirit of them is not passed away. Even now, Venice, Bellini's beloved mother-land, is rising, new-born, from long weary years of Austrian slavery, and trying to be free and great once more; and young Italian hearts are lighting up with the thoughts of her old fleets and her old victories, her merchants and her statesmen, whom John Bellini drew. Venice sinned, and fell; and sorely has she paid for her sins, through two hundred years of shame, and profligacy, and slavery. And she has broken the oppressor's yoke. God send her a new life! May she learn by her ancient sins! May she learn by her ancient glories! "You will forgive me for forgetting my picture to talk of such things. But we must return. Look back at what I said about the old portrait--the clear, calm, victorious character of the old man's face, and see how all the rest of the picture agrees with it, in a complete harmony. The dress, the scenery, the light and shade, the general 'tone' of colour should all agree with the character of the face--all help to bring our minds into that state in which we may best feel and sympathise with the human beings painted. Now here, because the face is calm and grand, the colour and the outlines are quiet and grand likewise. How different these colours are from that glorious 'Holy Family' of Francia's, next to it on the right; or from that equally glorious 'Bacchus and Ariadne' of Titian's, on the left! Yet all three are right, each for its own subject. Here you have no brilliant reds, no rich warm browns; no luscious greens. The white robe and cap give us the thought of purity and simplicity; the very golden embroidery on them, which marks his rank, is carefully kept back from being too gaudy. Everything is _sober_ here; and the lines of the dress, how simple they all are--no rich curves, no fluttering drapery. They would be quite stiff if it were not for that waving line of round tassels in front, which break the extreme straightness and heaviness of the splendid robe; and all pointing upwards towards that solemn, thin, calm face, with its high white cap, rising like the peak of a snow mountain against the dark, deep, boundless blue sky beyond. That is a grand thought of Bellini's. You do not see the man's hands; he does not want them now, his work is done. You see no landscape behind--no buildings. All earth's ways and sights are nothing to him now; there is nothing but the old man and the sky--nothing between him and the heaven now, and he knows it and is glad. A few months more, and those way-worn features shall have crumbled to their dust, and that strong, meek spirit shall be in the abyss of eternity, before the God from whence it came. "So says John Bellini, with art more cunning than words. And if this paper shall make one of you look at that little picture with fresh interest, and raise one strong and solemn longing in you to die the death of the righteous, and let your last end be like his who is painted there--then I shall rejoice in the only payment I desire to get, for this my afternoon's writing." V. THE BRITISH MUSEUM. Nature is infinitely more wonderful than the highest art; and in the commonest hedgeside leaf lies a mystery and beauty greater than that of the greatest picture, the noblest statue--as infinitely greater as God's work is infinitely greater than man's. But to those who have no leisure to study nature in the green fields (and there are now-a-days too many such, though the time may come when all will have that blessing), to such I say, go to the British Museum, Bloomsbury Square; there at least, if you cannot go to nature's wonders, some of nature's wonders are brought to you. The British Museum is my glory and joy; because it is one of the only places which is free to English citizens as such--where the poor and the rich may meet together, and before those works of God's Spirit, "who is no respecter of persons," feel that "the Lord is the maker of them all." In the British Museum and the National Gallery, the Englishman may say, "Whatever my coat or my purse, I am an Englishman, and therefore I have a right here. I can glory in these noble halls, as if they were my own house." English commerce, the joint enterprise and industry of the poor sailor as well as the rich merchant, brought home these treasures from foreign lands; and those glorious statues--though it was the wealth and taste of English noblemen and gentlemen (who in that proved themselves truly noble and gentle) who placed them here, yet it was the genius of English artists--men at once above and below all ranks--men who have worked their way up, not by money or birth, but by worth and genius, which taught the noble and wealthy the value of those antiques, and which proclaimed their beauty to the world. The British Museum is a truly equalising place, in the deepest and most spiritual sense. And it gives the lie, too, to that common slander, "that the English are not worthy of free admission to valuable and curious collections, because they have such a trick of seeing with their fingers; such a trick of scribbling their names, of defiling and disfiguring works of art. On the Continent it may do, but you cannot trust the English." This has been, like many other untruths, so often repeated, that people now take it for granted; but I believe that it is utterly groundless, and I say so on the experience of the British Museum and the National Gallery. In the only two cases, I believe, in which injury has been done to anything in either place, the destroyers were neither working-men, nor even poor reckless heathen street-boys, but persons who had received what is too often miscalled "a liberal education." But _national property will always be respected_, because all will be content, while they feel that they have their rights, and all will be careful while they feel that they have a share in the treasure. Go to the British Museum in Easter week, and see there hundreds of thousands, of every rank and age, wandering past sculptures and paintings, which would be ruined by a blow--past jewels and curiosities, any one of which would buy many a poor soul there a month's food and lodging--only protected by a pane of glass, if by that; and then see not a thing disfigured--much less stolen. Everywhere order, care, attention, honest pride in their country's wealth and science; earnest reverence for the mighty works of God, and of the God-inspired. I say, the people of England prove themselves worthy of free admission to all works of art, and it is therefore the duty of those who can to help them to that free admission. What a noble, and righteous, and truly brotherly plan it would be, if all classes would join to form a free National Gallery of Art and Science, which might combine the advantages of the present Polytechnic, Society of Arts, and British Institution, gratis. {243} Manufacturers and men of science might send thither specimens of their new inventions. The rich might send, for a few months in the year--as they do now to the British Institution--ancient and modern pictures, and not only pictures, but all sorts of curious works of art and nature, which are now hidden in their drawing-rooms and libraries. There might be free liberty to copy any object, on the copyist's name and residence being registered. And surely artists and men of science might be found, with enough of the spirit of patriotism and love, to explain gratuitously to all comers, whatever their rank or class, the wonders of the Museum. I really believe that if once _the spirit of brotherhood_ got abroad among us; if men once saw that here was a vast means of educating, and softening and uniting those who have no leisure for study, and few means of enjoyment, except the gin- shop and Cremorne Gardens; if they could but once feel that here was a project, equally blessed for rich and poor, the money for it would be at once forthcoming from many a rich man, who is longing to do good, if he could only be shown the way; and from many a poor journeyman, who would gladly contribute his mite to a truly national museum. All that is wanted is the spirit of self-sacrifice, patriotism and brotherly love--which God alone can give--which I believe He is giving more and more in these very days. I never felt this more strongly than one day, as I was looking in at the windows of a splendid curiosity-shop in Oxford Street, at a case of humming-birds. I was gloating over the beauty of those feathered jewels, and then wondering what was the meaning, what was the use of it all? why those exquisite little creatures should have been hidden for ages, in all their splendours of ruby, and emerald, and gold in the South American forests, breeding and fluttering and dying, that some dozen out of all those millions might be brought over here to astonish the eyes of men. And as I asked myself, why were all these boundless varieties, these treasures of unseen beauty, created? my brain grew dizzy between pleasure and thought; and, as always happens when one is most innocently delighted, "I turned to share the joy," as Wordsworth says; and next to me stood a huge, brawny coal-heaver, in his shovel hat, and white stockings and high-lows, gazing at the humming-birds as earnestly as myself. As I turned he turned, and I saw a bright manly face, with a broad, soot-grimmed forehead, from under which a pair of keen flashing eyes gleamed wondering, smiling sympathy into mine. In that moment we felt ourselves friends. If we had been Frenchmen, we should, I suppose, have rushed into each other's arms and "fraternised" upon the spot. As we were a pair of dumb, awkward Englishmen, we only gazed a half-minute, staring into each other's eyes, with a delightful feeling of understanding each other, and then burst out both at once with, "Isn't that beautiful?" "Well, that is!" And then both turned back again, to stare at our humming-birds. I never felt more thoroughly than at that minute (though, thank God, I had often felt it before) that all men were _brothers_; that this was not a mere political doctrine, but a blessed God-ordained fact; that the party-walls of rank and fashion and money were but a paper prison of our own making, which we might break through any moment by a single hearty and kindly feeling; that the one spirit of God was given without respect of persons; that the beautiful things were beautiful alike to the coal- heaver and the parson; and that before the wondrous works of God and of God's inspired genius, the rich and the poor might meet together, and feel that whatever the coat or the creed may be, "A man's a man for a' that," and one Lord the maker of them all. For, believe me, my friends, rich and poor--and I beseech you to think deeply over this great truth--that men will never be joined in true brotherhood by mere plans to give them a self-interest in common, as the Socialists have tried to do. No: to feel _for_ each other, they must first feel _with_ each other. To have their sympathies in common, they must have not one object of gain, but an object of admiration in common; to know that they are brothers, they must feel that they have one Father; and one way to feel that they have one common Father, is to see each other wondering, side by side, at His glorious works! Footnotes: {80a} H.M.S. the Duke of Wellington. {80b} Form of prayer to be used at sea. {199} This was written and sent out to the army before Sebastopol in the winter of 1855. {222} Prescott's "History of the Conquest of Mexico." See Book v., ch. 1. {230} Mr. Kingsley wrote these papers for London working-men, but his words apply just as much to soldiers in London barracks, as to artizans. He thought much of the good of pictures, and all beautiful things for hard-worked men who could see such things in public galleries, though they could not afford to have them in their own homes. {243} Since this paper was written in 1848 many such institutions have been opened, at South Kensington, and in several great towns. 
59991	----	[Transcriber's notes: This production is based on https://archive.org/details/sermonsofstpaul06unknuoft/page/n6 Many footnotes have additional citations indicated by "USCCB", based on the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops Bible found at http://usccb.org/bible/books-of-the-bible. Most differences appear to be typographical errors not detected in proofreading or minor changes in verse numbering. Quotes from the book of Sirach were attributed to Ecclesiasticus. Double underscores are used to indicate text that is both bolded and italicized, e.g. __bolded italics__. End of Transcriber's notes.] {1} Sermons By The Fathers Of The Congregation Of St. Paul The Apostle, __New York__ Volume VI. New York: The Catholic Publication House, 9 Warren Street. Boston: Patrick Donahoe. Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1871. {2} Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by Rev. I. T. Hecker, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. {3} Preface. The publication of another volume of Sermons by the Fathers of the Congregation of St. Paul the Apostle, is due to the encouragement already given by the extensive sale of the former ones; and to the frequent solicitations for the continuance of their publication kindly made by many of the Reverend Clergy, at home and abroad. St. Paul's, Fifty-ninth Street, New York, __Feast of St. John of the Cross,__ 1871. {4} {5} {6} {7} Contents. Sermon I. Remembrance Of Mercies. __Isaiah__ lxiii. 7. "__I will remember the tender mercies of the Lord, the praise of the Lord for all the things that the Lord hath bestowed upon us__." Page 15 Sermon II. The Three Gifts Of The Magi. __St. Matt.__ ii. 11. "__And going into the house, they found the child with Mary His mother: and falling down, they adored Him: and opening their treasures, they offered to Him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh__." Page 32 {8} Sermon III. How To Pass A Good Lent. 2 __Cor__. vi. 2. "__Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation__," Page 42 Sermon IV. Pretended And Real Christians. 2 __Cor__. vi. 1. "__And we do exhort you that you receive not the grace of God in vain__," Page 56 Sermon V. The Sins And Miseries Of The Dram-seller. __Habacuc__ ii. 15. "__Woe to him that giveth drink to his friend, and presenteth his gall, and maketh him drunk__." Page 69 Sermon VI. Communion With Jesus. __St. John__ vi. 57. [USCCB: John vi. 56.] "__He that eateth My flesh and drinketh My blood abideth in Me, and I in him__." Page 89 {9} Sermon VII. The Holy Ghost, The Comforter. __St. John__ XIV. 16. "__I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Comforter, that He may abide with you for ever__." Page 104 Sermon VIII. The Duty Of Upholding The Pope's Temporal Sovereignty. __Zach__. vi. 13. "__He shall bear the glory, and shall sit and rule upon his throne; and he shall be a Priest upon his throne__," Page 122 Sermon IX. The Living God. __Jer__. x. 10. "__The Lord is the true God: He is the living God__." Page 141 Sermon X. The Real Presence. __St. Matt__. i. 23. "__They shall call His name Emmanuel, which, being interpreted, is God with us__." Page 155 {10} Sermon XI. St. Paul, The Divine Orator. 2 __Cor__. xii. 9. "__Gladly, therefore, will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me__." Page 169 Sermon XII. The Value Of Faith. I __Cor__. xvi. 13. "__Watch ye; stand fast in the faith; do manfully, and be strengthened__." Page 183 Sermon XIII The Supremacy Of St. Peter. __St. Matt__. xvi. 18. "__And I say to thee: That thou art Peter; and upon this Rock I will build My Church__." Page 195 Sermon XIV. The Roman Pontiffs The Successors Of St. Peter. __St. Matt.__ xvi. 18. "__And I say to thee: That thou art Peter; and upon this Rock I will build My Church__," Page 214 {11} Sermon XV The Thought Of Heaven. __Heb__. iv. 9. "__There remaineth therefore a rest for the people of God__." Page 230 Sermon XVI. The Clergy The Teachers Of The People. __St. Matt.__ vii. 15. "__Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves__." Page 244 Sermon XVII. Humility In Prayer. __St. Luke__ xviii. 13. "__O God, be merciful to me, a sinner__," Page 255 Sermon XVIII. Preparation For A Good Death. __Isaiah__ xxxviii. 1. "__Put thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live__." Page 269 {12} Sermon XIX. The King's Marriage Feast. __St. Matt__. xxii. 14. "__For many are called, but few are chosen__." Page 283 Sermon XX. Good Use Of Sickness. __Ecclesiasticus__ xxxviii. 9. [USCCB: Sirach xxxviii. 9.] "My son, in thy sickness neglect not thy self, but pray to the Lord, and He shall heal thee." Page 292 Sermon XXI. Thoughts For Advent. __Philippians__ iv. 8. "__For the rest, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are modest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are holy, whatsoever things are amiable, whatsoever things are of good repute; if there be any virtue, if there be any praise of discipline, think on these things__." Page 306 Sermon XXII. Fraternal Charity. I __Epistle St. John__ ii. 10. "__He that loveth his brother abideth in the light, and there is no scandal in him.__" Page 322 ----------------------------- {13} {14} {15} Sermon I. Remembrance Of Mercies. (For New Year's Day.) Isaiah lxiii. 7. "I will remember the tender mercies of the Lord, the praise of the Lord for all the things that the Lord hath bestowed upon us." In the midst of our mutual congratulations at a time like this, whilst we are wishing a happy future year to those we love, we cannot wholly forget the year that is past, and all that it brought to us for good or evil. I would not, my dear brethren, cast a shadow upon the bright pathway of our hopes; I would not dampen in the least the ardor with which we joyfully set out upon another year's journey of life. May it be as happy in its realization as we could wish it to be! But I fear for the future happiness of him who forgets the happiness of the past. The anticipated joy of life yet to be lived is linked with those other joys that are past--joys over blessings whose richest fruit should be the lessons of experience they have taught us. {16} Would we like to enter upon a new year wholly ignorant of the past one? I think not. We have learned many things while it has been passing--lessons of wisdom upon which we rely to make the future better and happier. Much there may have been to regret. Alas! how much for some of us; but the remembrance of even that shall be good for us. There are many of the same stones lying in the roadway ahead of us that we stumbled upon last year. Now we shall not come upon them unawares. There are many of the same beautiful but poisonous flowers growing in the valleys of repose where we shall stop to linger for a while, as we did in days gone by. We shall recognize them, and the beauty that deceived us before shall not deceive us again. Blessed is the man who remembers. But there is so much good to remember! And in that remembrance so much to make the heart thoughtful, cheerful, and hopeful. It is this thought which I wish you, my brethren, this morning to reflect upon: the duty and pleasure of remembering the mercies of God--His __tender__ mercies, as the prophet so aptly calls them. It has always been a wonder to me how soon we forget benefits conferred upon us. It is too true. The joy we had when the gifts were new wasted itself away as quickly as music melts upon the air. {17} The keen sense of grateful love toward the giver grows dull, and passes into indifference, before the treasure is spent or the beauty of the gem is tarnished. Drink to the health of your friend and praise his bounty, if you will, but have a care-- ingratitude and forgetfulness are the last drops which lie at the bottom of the cup. And we treat God no better, if as well as we treat men. His gifts are such as man could never give, and given with a depth of love as unfathomable as the mystery of His own being and divine life. And yet we can forget! Oh! why is it? Did He who made the human heart make it ungrateful? Did He who so loves us make those He loves selfish? Did He who has said, "Son, give me thy heart," ask for a corrupt and treacherous heart? Such a thought may become that gloomy religion which thinks to exalt God by debasing His creatures; but it is not so that we have learned Him. No, this cannot be. It cannot be that the heart of man is naturally ungrateful, or is unmindful of good for which it is debtor; that by virtue of its very nature it is selfish toward man, and treacherous to God. He who made us has not made us to be of necessity the very opposite of what He wishes us to be. What explains this cold forgetfulness, this heartless indifference, that steals over us so soon? There is but one explanation. Love and gratitude must have a test. {18} The words of thankfulness, the pressure of the hand, the look of the eyes and the aspirations of the heart which are forced from us in the first flush of happiness when the gifts are showered at our feet, are all good and just testimonies--but they are not enough. Gratitude and love must have the true test of merit, and that is endurance. There must be freedom to forget, that the false be distinguished from the true. That we claim this enduring memory at the hands of others, and are disappointed if it is otherwise, is a proof not only that such a test is naturally called for, but that we at the same time deem it possible. How many gifts pass from hand to hand during this season of rejoicing, with the words--Remember me! God Himself bestows His most Precious Gift to man with the same request, "Do this in remembrance of Me." Yes, now we understand it. The true heart will remember; the false one will forget. The faithful soul delights in cherishing a lively remembrance of benefits received; and the further back in the past the moment lies that saw our brows crowned with the tokens of love, the sweeter and more tender become the memories of them. Judge by this test, my brethren, if you have a true heart to God. Oh! the deep meaning of the prophet's words, "I will remember the __tender__ mercies of the Lord." Time is a refiner of the thoughts. {19} The love of the gift itself, the mere sensual complacency in its enjoyment is mixed up in the beginning with the thankfulness we feel for its bestowal. But time will wear off that dross, and only the pure gold of the heart's gratitude will be left. It is not the love of the gift that need last. We do not care for that, neither does God. But we and God want the love of the giver to remain, and the giving of our gift, that act by which we tried to prove our love, not to be forgotten. Look back, my brethren, look back. What does your memory tell you of His gifts whose mercy has followed you all the days of your life, whose hands have been stretched forth full of new blessings every morning? Here it might become me to enumerate some of these gifts, but where would I begin, or where could I end? Besides, it is you who ought to remember, and remember well. You must have a cold heart if you can forget. You see, my brethren, what I desire by these words. I wish you to know whether you are grateful to God or not, to that God who has so loved us and crowned us with mercy and loving kindness. At a time like this, when you are asking others to remember you, and when you are thinking of all the dear old friends you have had in bygone years, and of the sweet mementos that came from their hands or were spoken by their lips, I would compel you to see if you have remembered the oldest, the best Friend of all. {20} Alas! if you must say--He has been the last and the least in my thoughts. That would be sad to hear, and, above all, from the lips of those who, by their very faith, with all its blessed consolations, live so near to God. If there be any by whom God wishes to be remembered, and His mercies brought to mind, it is by us who are His chosen people. I know God loves all men, and more than we can imagine; but there can be little doubt that those whom He has so honored as to make them the brethren of His Only Son, Jesus Christ, upon whom He has bestowed the inestimable gift of the Catholic faith, are the objects of His special affection. Oh! it is a great thing to be one of the household of faith! That is one of those tender mercies the very thought of which should make our heart bound in our bosom. Sweet and ever present, dear Catholic brethren, should be the memory of the day of your baptism, the day when you crossed the threshold of God's own home, the Church, and there became His child. You know well what light has beamed upon your pathway in life ever since. You know what fountains of refreshment have sprung up to satisfy your thirsty soul. When you contrast your own knowledge of religion, and peace in it, with the ignorance and restless distrust of the blinded world without, then you know how truly wise God has made you. {21} It is true for all who own the Catholic name, but what a __tender__ mercy is that to be ever cherished in the heart of a convert! O day of joy to remember!--proud, loving, humble joy like that which stirred the heart of Mary when the words broke forth in tumultuous rapture from her sacred lips, "My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God, my Saviour. For He that is mighty hath done great things unto me, and holy is His name." O day of peace to remember!--peace like that which fills the soul of the wanderer upon whose longing sight breaks the vision of his native shore, when, with hands outstretched, as if to embrace the dear land, and in a voice choked with emotion, he murmurs--Home at last! O day of freedom to remember! Freed is the caged bird that beat its wings against bars more cruel than iron--freedom that says to the soul, Fly, for between thee and God no hand shall be found to stop thee. Cleave the skies with thy wings, and go sing at the gates of Paradise, and thou shalt hear the voices of angels responding to thy notes of happiness from within. And who has done all this? O kind God! it is Thou. It is Thou who hast regarded the humility of Thy servant. Let all generations call me too blessed from henceforth; for Thou, even Thou, hast also blessed me. Te Deum Laudamus! {22} But it behooves us to ask ourselves the questions--What it is to remember God's mercies, and who are they that do it. He who does not prize the Christmas or the New Year's gift (however humble may be the offering) for the sake of the giver, has already forgotten it. Here is something that God has too good reason to complain of us. We do not make much of His gifts, as we ought. We receive them, perhaps after many prayers. Prosperity smiles upon us, temptations lose their power, our sins are forgiven, the impending calamity is averted, death departs from our doors, our wishes are granted a thousand times beyond our expectations, and now that the blessing has come, does it look much in our eyes? Does it seem to us, as it is, a great thing--a precious gift? We are proud to display the gifts of friends. Oh! who is proud of the gifts of God? We plume ourselves upon our success, and glorify creatures for their aid, but too often God complains of us, as He complained of His ungrateful people of old, "They were filled, and were made full; and they lifted up their heart, and have forgotten me." [Footnote 1] [Footnote 1: Osec xiii. 6.] [USCCB: Hosea xiii. 6.] {23} But He has not to complain of all. There are some who recognize the source of their blessings, who wonder, in their humble, grateful hearts, that One so high could stoop to one so low. "My friends tell me," said a recent convert, "that I never looked so bright and happy in my life. They think it is on account of a piece of good news I have heard; but it is not that. I am all the time thinking how good our dear Lord has been to me. After so many years, to be permitted to come to Him, seems almost too great happiness for __me__." There is a soul remembering the tender mercies of the Lord. "Too great happiness for __me__." Such ought to be the expression of all our hearts at the thought of the very least of God's gracious gifts. A bunch of withered flowers stood upon a table near the foot of the bed of a poor, dying woman. The flowers were many days faded and scentless, yet every morning fresh water was brought to fill the old cracked china vase (the best in the cottage) that held them. "I love to have them there," she would say, "where I can see them, for they were brought to me by __him__, and they shall be laid upon my breast when I am gone to God." "By __him!__" No need to tell the name. It was like the supplication of Mary Magdalen, "If thou hast taken Him away, tell me where thou hast laid Him, and I will go and take Him away." {24} He who brought those flowers in his hand brought her also the holy sacraments of the dying, and was often at her bedside during her long illness. She loved him with that tender, holy, and trusting love which so enchains the hearts of the Catholic poor to their "dear priest." And the gift had come from him. That, was enough. To her the dry, withered stems were daily strengthened by the freshly brought water, the shrivelled flowers looked bright, and shed their fragrance still around the poor chamber. Not to her senses. No; but to her soul. Why should they not? Other flowers might not: but these--"these were brought by __him__." Oh! when the heart remembers, how priceless becomes the gift, what shining beauty adorns it, what magic charms does it not possess! Thus, beloved brethren, let our hearts remember God for His manifold mercies. They come from Him. They come from the Best, the Holiest, the Truest, the Everlasting Friend. But I speak in vain if you do not understand me. If the Giver is not all that and more to you, never will His gifts be in your eyes as precious and as dear as they should be, and not long will you remember them. It is the question of the Psalmist, "Who is wise, and will keep these things in mind, and will understand the mercies of the Lord?" [Footnote 2] [Footnote 2: Ps. cvi. 43.] [USCCB: Psalms cvii. 43.] {25} To remember the mercies of God is to make good use of them. To what end has he blessed us with the gift of faith? That it should simply distinguish us from those who do not possess it, and to lie idle and fruitless in our soul? Vain ornament, indeed, that honors neither the giver nor him who receives it. You are a Catholic in name, and you do not forget it. Is it enough to remember that? Oh! answer God to-day. Do you remember when Sunday morning comes, and the priest is ascending the altar, that you are a Catholic, and where a Catholic should be found then? Do you remember when the Church is calling her children to the confession of their sins, and to the Holy Communion at the joyful Easter time, that you are a Catholic, and what it behooves a Catholic to do then? Do you remember when obscene and blasphemous language is used in your presence that you are a Catholic, and think what part a Catholic should take in that? Tell me, can you lift your heart to Him to-day, and say in truth--My God, Thou knowest that I have not forgotten Thee? "I have chosen the way of truth: Thy judgments I have not forgotten." [Footnote 3] [Footnote 3: Ps. cxviii. 30.] [USCCB: Ps. cxix. 30; "The way of loyalty I have chosen; I have set your edicts before me."] {26} You got over that illness. I know that you said, "If God spares my life, I will be a changed man--I will be an altered woman. No more will I be seen staggering in drunkenness. No longer will I keep a grog-shop, and stain my hands with the hard-earned and wickedly-squandered money of my neighbor--blood-money, cursed by the cries of the brutally treated wife and the moans of the naked, starved children. No longer will I be a nominal Catholic, a standing scandal to unbelievers, and damning my own soul by my criminal neglect of God and contempt of His Holy Church. I will give up all that spite and malice in my heart, and go and be reconciled with those who have injured me for the sake of Him who said, 'Forgive, and you shall be forgiven.'" Do you remember all that? Yes; but what avails such a heartless remembrance as yours has been? Even He has reminded you of your promise and of His mercy from time to time, as He now again reminds you by my mouth. Oh! mock Him not. Better, far better, would it be had you wholly forgotten both promise and mercy. It would not be generous, I allow; but now you are false and treacherous, for the mercy was granted, but the promise remains unfulfilled. In the sorrow of your stricken spirit, and with the grievous burden of sin lying heavy upon you, your guardian angel took you one day, trembling, anxious, fearful, harassed by the stings of remorse, to the confessional. {27} There you poured out your griefs, and told all the shameful guilt--griefs that seemed eternal, and guilt that no oceans might wash away. And yet, O tender mercy of God! down falls the veil of darkness, and your soul is bathed in light. You, who a moment ago were stumbling in despair at the portals of hell, are now standing before the gates of heaven. You, who had that in your soul which almost drove you to madness, now are in such peace that words fail you, and you weep for very joy. Yes, of a truth God has been very merciful, tenderly merciful to you. Ah! what would you not then do for God--what sacrifices would you not make--what life long resolutions were you not ready to form! Do you not remember? Ah, yes! now I remind you of it. But how long did you remember it to any profit to yourself or praise to God? And tell me, how now? What of your present remembrance? An East Indian having been shown all about the beautiful city of Paris, through its royal palaces, its galleries of art, its manufactories of wondrous scientific and mechanical instruments, manifested, it was observed, but little enthusiasm. The Indian was too proud to show any emotion at sight of the works of strangers. One day he was taken to the Jardin des Plantes, where are cultivated trees, shrubs, and flowers of every clime. {28} Suddenly he stopped short before a tropical tree, fell upon his knees, clasped it lovingly and kissed it, and, as the tears flowed fast down his swarthy cheek, cried out, in his own language, "O tree of my own land! O tree of my own native land, so far away! Let us go back home again." There are some of you, my brethren, to whom I have shown the picture of a mercy you cannot but remember well. How does the sight of it affect you? Are you moved with that deep emotion such a memory should awaken? Do you hug the memory of that hour of peace to your bosom, and does your heart cry out, "O tender mercy of my God! O sweet hour of peace now so far away! Let me go back to thee again!" Blessed remembrance, as happy for yourself as it is dear to God. You are wise because you keep these things in mind, and have understood the mercies of the Lord, and the praise of the Lord for all the things He hath bestowed upon you. But can you look at it with indifference, seeing there nothing to stir the depths of your soul, nothing to call forth a grateful aspiration from your breast? Then I think of that uncivilized Indian, and must say: He loved his country better than you love God. He was quick to remember __that__; you have been quick to forget __Him__. {29} I am not asking too much, my brethren, am I? I am not forcing upon your notice a subject out of place at this joyous season, am I? When the absent one returns to the old homestead to spend the Christmas holidays, you who have been the kindest to him, the most lavish in your gifts--you who have been sending him time and again sweet tokens of __your__ remembrance--you do not look for him to think the last about __you__. Oh! no. You are tempted to hide yourself in sport before he has seen you, that you may enjoy listening to his anxious and hurried questions about __you__, and his wondering where __you__ are, and a thousand eager expressions, which show that he has been thinking about the pleasant meeting he would have with __you__ all the way home, and that his joy is not full till he can run into your embrace. Oh! his every question almost drags you out from your hiding-place. But suppose you listen in vain for the mention of your name; that in the midst of his joyous congratulations and happy wishes he does not ask where __you__ are, and evinces by no sign that in your absence anything is wanting to him. Oh! the ugly pain at your heart as you steal away to your chamber, unwilling now to be seen, hurt by his forgetfulness, and stung to the very quick by his silent ingratitude. {30} Brethren, I am speaking for God; for the best Friend, who of all must be the nearest and dearest, and the first in your thoughts. Looking down from His throne in heaven, he watches, to see who have been making preparations to meet Him; who are renewing at this time their grateful remembrances of Him. Ah! there are some who remember, and they have already gathered about His holy Table, and feasted at His heavenly banquet. Though no earthly friends may have been kind or thoughtful enough to send them a holiday present, they have still had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year's for all that. They have met the Friend of all friends with the kiss of peace and the embrace of welcome, and that has been more than enough. But there are some who never said a word about Him, never thought of Him, never remembered all He had done for them. Nay, there are some who never came at all. Not that __He__ forgot to invite them, not that He neglected to prepare His Christmas feast. No. He is the Friend who never forgets. What shall I say? Does God not feel that heartless coldness and neglect of theirs? Oh! the sad, tender, complaining reproaches of Good Friday are heard in heaven at Christmas. "My people, what have I done unto thee, or in what have I grieved thee? Answer me." "Put me in remembrance," as he said to his people of old, "and let us plead together. Tell me if thou hast anything to justify thyself." {31} Yes, answer Him, you of whom He is speaking. Answer to that God who has never wearied of heaping blessing after blessing and mercy after mercy upon your head. Tell Him what He has done to you that you have forgotten Him. Too well you know, however, that in Him you shall find nothing to accuse. So, then, let us rather turn to the exciting in our hearts a lively remembrance of His manifold mercies, and to make that memory to good purpose. Let us seek to know, if possible, why God has so blessed us; what object He had in view; what He expected of us; what promises we made when we received them, and now resolve that He shall be no longer disappointed in the fruits He looked for from them. It will help us to acquire that spirit of humble gratitude which so enlarges the heart, and helps us to do great and generous things for God. With the Psalmist, then, let us say, "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and never forget all that He hath done for thee. Who forgiveth all thine iniquities: who healeth all thy diseases. Who redeemeth thy life from destruction, and crowneth thee with mercy and compassion." [Footnote 4] So shall the New Year begin with praise and thanksgiving, to end with blessings new and better than the last. [Footnote 4: Ps. cii. 2-4.] [USCCB: Ps. ciii. 2-4.] ------------------- {32} Sermon II. The Three Gifts Of The Magi. (For The Feast of The Epiphany.) St. Matthew ii. 11. "__And going into the house, they found the child with Mary his mother: and falling down, they adored him: and opening their treasures, they offered to him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh__." These wise men, who are supposed by many to have been kings, were led by the appearance of the miraculous star in the heavens, and the secret inspirations of the Holy Ghost, to Bethlehem, in order to find out and adore the Child who was born king of the Jews. After a long search, they found Him, lying in a manger, and, in spite of the poverty and the straw, they recognized in Him the King of souls, the Creator of heaven and earth. With a deep faith they adored Him, and, opening their treasures, offered to Him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. {33} And we are all, in like manner, drawn to do the same thing. The light of faith directs us to the poor stable of Bethlehem, where we behold the Lord of Glory disguised in the form of an infant, and it becomes us also to offer Him our treasures of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And, first, what is the pure gold which is acceptable to our God and Creator? By gold is understood charity or the love of our God. And by this charity is understood the pure intention of pleasing God by which we should be governed in all our works. The love of God does not essentially consist in a tender feeling of affection or in a sensible devotion of tears, which we are not always able to elicit, much as we might desire it, but in a good and pure intention. That this is so should be a great consolation and encouragement to us. We have no right to say, as many do, "I cannot love God," for this is an untruth. It lies in every one's power to love Him, if he only desires sincerely to do so. We might say with truth--My heart is cold, and I am grieved because I cannot experience that warm love of God which I desire so much; but I would reply to all such--Set your fears at rest; make a good intention to please and love God to the best of your ability, and you have, at once, the real, true, and solid love of Him which will bring you by the shortest route to the kingdom of heaven. {34} It is related that one of the old heathen kings had an avarice so great that he desired that all he touched might be turned into gold. His request being granted, he perished of hunger. Avarice for spiritual treasures has no such evil effect. On the contrary, our Lord says, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after justice, for they shall be filled." Now I wish that, in like manner, what ever you touch with your hearts--that is, what ever you long for or desire--might, by a good intention, be turned into the gold of the purest charity. Our Saviour has said, You cannot so much as give a cup of cold water in My Name--that is, with a good intention--without receiving a reward for it. The treasures of grace and merit lie in immense heaps all around us, and we can help ourselves. Whatever we do, then, let us do it in the name of the Lord, following out the injunction of St. Paul, "Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatsoever else you do, do all things for the glory of God." [Footnote 5] I hope, then, you will all, on this blessed festival, determine to direct all your thoughts, words, and actions to the glory of God to the very best of your ability, and thus open your treasures, and offer to the Infant Jesus lying on the straw a great heap of pure, bright gold. [Footnote 5: I Cor. x. 31.] {35} The wise men of the East offered not gold only, but also frankincense. What does this signify? It means devotion. You have often seen incense put into the censer at High Mass or Vespers, and the smoke from it immediately arise straight upwards. It is a figure of the prayers and burning wishes of the soul ascending up to heaven. The Scripture says: "And another angel came, and stood before the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given to him much incense, that he should offer of the prayers of all saints upon the golden altar, which is before the throne of God: and the smoke of the incense of the prayers of the saints ascended up before God, from the hand of the angel." [Footnote 6] [Footnote 6: Apoc. viii. 3, 4.] [USCCB: Revelation viii. 3, 4.] The act of true prayer or adoration by which we acknowledge, with our whole heart the infinite mystery of God and His complete dominion over us, our own entire nothingness of ourselves without Him, and by which we declare and protest that we desire nothing else but that He should govern us and dispose of us and all our affairs as He pleases--this is the highest and noblest act of our own reason. For what could we do so real and true as this? How could we realize in a better way the simplest and at the same time the most sublime of all truths? Our prayers ought to go up from our hearts as from a censer which contains a fire that no created thing is able to put out. The smoke of it should continually arise, and all we do should be done in the way of a prayer and supplication to our Last End and Chief Good. {36} Alas! we have incense enough to offer to idols. We swing the censer to wealth, honors, and pleasures; we bow the knee, and worship houses, and lands, and cattle, and fine clothes, and sumptuous fare, and sell our very souls for a few pieces of gold; but we have but little incense for God--no pure and sincere homage for Him, the eternal, uncreated Source of all our good. And when you offer the incense of your adoration to God, offer pure and clear incense. Do not mix with the frankincense resin or other foul-smelling drugs. And what are they? Those desires of the heart by which you cling to the creatures of earth with a passionate eagerness. Clear your heart of such desires, so that you may say, "My God and my all." "My God, if I possess Thee and lack all else, I am rich in deed." "If I have the whole world, and all it contains, and have not Thee, I am poor, and blind, and miserable, and naked." Then will your prayer arise as a sweet odor from the golden altar before the throne of God, and in numerable blessings descend upon you, not only for eternity, but even in this present life. {37} Offer frankincense, or you will have no gold to offer. When you open your treasures, if there is not plenty of incense--that is, prayer--you will find the chest, in which you thought there was much gold, to be empty. For without prayer there is no charity or love of God. Prayer is the food by which you nourish and keep charity alive and on the increase. Prayer is the capital in trade by which you are to make your fortune in the charity of God to enrich you for eternity. And having offered your gold and frankincense, do not forget the myrrh. And what is signified by myrrh? It means self-denial, or, as it is more commonly called, mortification. I wish we all understood the value of self-denial better than we do, because nearly all the miseries which afflict the soul come from the fact that we do not deny ourselves as much as we ought. We give the reins to our natural desires and inclinations, and they run away with us. Just as if we were driving a span of spirited horses, and instead of putting a curb-bit upon them and holding them in, we should throw the reins down upon their necks and let them go without restraint. When they once begin to go fast, they break into a headlong race, and never stop until they have dashed everything in pieces. Thus we let our desires for amusement and pleasure run away with us, until we find our pious resolutions and the spirit of devotion entirely gone, and drowned in the sea of forgetfulness. {38} How can we love God if we be absorbed in a love of good eating and drinking? Can God come and take up His abode in a soul which occupies itself and is taken up with the satisfaction of sumptuous fare, rich meats, and choice wines or liquors. Such souls are vividly described in Holy Scripture: "For many walk, of whom I have told you often (and now tell you weeping) that they are enemies of the cross of Christ; whose end is destruction; whose God is their belly; and whose glory is in their shame; who mind earthly things." [Footnote 7] [Footnote 7: Philip., iii. 18, 19.] How can God give Himself to the man who is absorbed in money-making and heaping up possessions? It is impossible for such a soul to enjoy the presence of God. Neither can He divide the empire of the soul with worldly honors, nor even with a passionate human love of wife or children. He is God, and they are creatures, the mere work of His hand. They shall pass away and be gone, and He shall remain. Such inordinate love is like disgusting vermin in the mansion of the soul, and all such vermin must be swept out. What ever we love must be loved on account of God, and in subordination to His love, or God will not come and take up His abode with us. This is the plain dictate of our reason. {39} We must deny ourselves, and that not merely in forbidden things, but in those which are lawful. If we go to the limit of what is lawful in self-indulgence, depend upon it we shall soon pass the limit. We shall fall into sin, and very likely into mortal sin. Many a one has fallen in this way. He has said to himself, I can do this thing, for it is not forbidden. Again, I can do that; it is not certain it comes within the letter of the law. I can indulge myself in this respect, for, even if sinful, it is a matter of small consequence. Thus he goes on in a downhill progress, until he becomes utterly selfish, and virtue has died out in his soul. Our Saviour has laid down the rule for a Christian; "He that will be My disciple, let him deny him self daily, and take up his cross and follow Me." Again, "He that loveth father or mother, wife or child, houses or lands, more than Me, is not worthy to be My disciple." We must deny ourselves, and, if we would be great friends of God, we must deny ourselves a great deal. The fact is, in order to become possessed of God, we must deny ourselves in all things, at all times, and in all places. We must repress and bring into subjection our desires, so that they may not occupy and fill our hearts. The Scripture says, "Think not for the morrow what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, or wherewith ye shall be clothed; but think of the kingdom of God and his justice." {40} Now, reflect on this: we cannot be thinking on both these things at the same time; one thought will crowd the other out; therefore you must drive out of your hearts those eager desires of the world, and temporal things, and anxiety about the future; you must deny yourselves these earthly desires, or you will never become spiritually-minded. Could we only banish all care and solicitude for these things, and discharge our duties and our business in life without anxiety, for God, and for the ends God has appointed them, we should be recompensed a thousandfold in this life, and we should be filled with gratitude to God for inspiring us with such sentiments. Offer myrrh, offer plenty of myrrh to God. Offer it with gold and frankincense--that is, with the intention of cleaning and sweeping out from your hearts all vain and useless love, that they may be ready and prepared for the Divine Love, and with many prayers and good wishes; and God will accept it. It will be most pleasing to Him. Without this, your self-denial will be in vain. Self-denial, without the right intention, is superstitious, and nourishes an empty pride; with it, the least act of self-denial renders you like to God, and more fit to receive the impressions of the Holy Ghost within your souls. {41} Begin, then, to offer myrrh with the gold and frankincense. Deny your eyes what they like to look upon, that the eyes of your souls may look on God more steadily. Deny your ears what they like to hear; news and gossip, not to speak of detraction and evil talk, that you may more readily hear the still, small voice of the Holy Ghost gently speaking within your hearts. Deny your sense of smell; the gratifications of perfumes and sweet odors. Deny your palates delicate and luxurious food, that you may relish better the plain and solid meat of the Gospel. Deny yourselves all around, whenever you can bring yourselves to do it cheerfully, for the sake of God, for He loves not the unwilling, but the cheerful, giver. This is what the saints did, and it is what made them saints. Impelled by the strong desire to love God more, I dare to say that self-denial was the sweetest pleasure to them in this life. Having food and raiment, and wherewith to be clothed, they were content therewith; the superfluous and the unnecessary they abominated, for they knew they would only lead them away from Jesus Christ. Present these gifts not only now, but every day of your lives. God will give them to you, and then you must give them back faithfully to Him, and in a short time He will give you a present which excels anything you ever thought of. He will give you Himself, and inundate your happy soul in an ocean of inconceivable joy and unspeakable happiness, never to be lost for all the ages of eternity. ------------------------ {42} Sermon III. How To Pass A Good Lent. (For Ash Wednesday.) 2 Cor. vi. 2. "__Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation__." This morning, my brethren, we knelt before this altar, and received from the Holy Church the ashes from which this day takes its name. Why did we do so? Was it merely because we had done so in past years? because it is a Catholic custom? because others did so, and we were expected to do the same? To receive them for such reasons would be better than not to receive them at all; but better still would it be to feel the meaning, and enter into the spirit of this sacred rite. In the early ages of the Church, those whose sins were such as to require (in the severer judgment of those days) a public penance, received the ashes on this day from the bishop, and were then, after some other ceremonies, expelled from the Church, and not allowed to assist at Mass till Holy Thursday. {43} As they were being driven out, the words. __Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris__--"Remember, man, that thou art dust, and into dust thou shalt return"--which were repeated to each one of us as we received the ashes this morning, were said to them. Their exclusion from the Church, often during a much longer time than the few weeks of Lent, was by no means the only penance to which many of them were subjected, besides those which they voluntarily undertook; but it is enough to mention so much, that we may understand what are the feelings which we, who are to-day in the place of these public penitents, should have. Receiving the ashes was for them a sign of the most profound humiliation and repentance. They were in disgrace, separated from the rest of the faithful as unworthy to partake with them in the sacred mysteries; and they expressed by their submission a firm purpose to amend their lives, and repair the scandal they had given. Now it is to us no disgrace to receive the ashes, but even the contrary; and we are not, perhaps, understood as expressing sorrow for our sins by the act, but humiliation and penance are really meant by it, and it is in this spirit that the Church wishes us to perform it. {44} This meaning is also contained in the very ashes themselves. For what can more completely express humiliation than ashes, which are the mere remains of their former substance, without beauty, strength, or any of its qualities? And what can better represent repentance than the fine dust of which they are composed? For this reducing to dust or powder is the real meaning of contrition: the contrite heart is that which is not only broken, but even ground to dust with sorrow. The ashes, also, as we are reminded in receiving them, represent the dust of death to which we must sooner or later come, and in which all the distinctions upon which we pride ourselves so much now will be confounded, nothing being left of us in this world after a short time but a few handfuls of dust, and our souls having gone to another, where their claims to consideration will have been judged according to a very different standard from that which prevails in this life. The thought of death, then, which they suggest, ought to fill us with humiliation on account of the vanity of our worldly distinctions, and with repentance now while we have time, because after death repentance will be impossible. But Ash Wednesday is not a day by itself. It is the beginning of a season in which the sentiments which it suggests are to be continued and even strengthened. It is of the right way of passing this penitential season of Lent that I wish to speak to you to-night. {45} And, in the first place, let us try to have a firm purpose to pass it in the right way. With a good resolution, the battle is half won. It is well worth our while to spend a good Lent; heaven is, as it were, nearer now, and grace is more abundant. "Now is the acceptable time, now is the day of salvation." Yes, my brethren, the Church does not give us Lent merely as a penance, but to help us in saving our souls. What, then, shall we do to spend Lent well? The first thing to do is to cease from sin, and obey those commandments of God which are binding at all times as well as now. To one who will not resolve to quit mortal sin, nothing else that he can do will be of any use except so far as it helps him to make such a resolution. All who have lost grace know well enough what sins are ruining their souls; and these they must give up, or their Lent will have been of little or no use-- perhaps even worse than useless, being another of those graces of the good God which they have thrown away and trampled under foot, and which He will reproach them with at the last day. Though He is always entreating us to give up sin, yet it is now specially that He urges us, as we are about to commemorate the bitter sufferings which He endured to redeem us from its power. {46} And though we are always bound to give it up, yet are we specially now so bound, because everything reminds us so strongly how hateful it is to God. Leave off sin, then; that is the great thing. I do not say that nothing else must be done till this is; but this must be done sooner or later, and the sooner the better, for it is very dangerous to wait. This night, this very hour, may be the last that we shall have. This naturally suggests a special precept that comes to us at this time. Whether we have sinned or not, we must make our Easter duty. At other times, our Lord invites us to come to Him; now, He commands us to come, under pain of a new and great sin if we refuse. Obey, then, this loving command as soon as possible; do not delay, especially if guilty of mortal sin; for, besides running a great risk, you will lose the merit of all you may do in this holy season as long as you remain unforgiven. It is not so hard as it seems; and the moment of absolution will be the happiest one of life. Another positive precept at this time is, of course, the fast, as prescribed by the rules of the diocese. This we must keep as well as we can, not considering that we are exempted from it merely because it is difficult; but only allowing such reasons against it as make a strict observance really imprudent--remembering, of course, the exemptions given in the regulations, but trusting to the judgment of a confessor or physician, rather than our own, if there be any doubt about the matter. {47} And let us not make the sacrifice unwillingly, merely because we are obliged to, but as cheerfully as we can, so that we may please God, as well as avoid offending Him. In this way we may gain more merit, perhaps, than by anything else we can do in the course of the year, on account of the difficulty of the work, and because at other times we should hardly be justified in imposing such a penance on ourselves. Besides, obedience is better than sacrifice; and fasting in Lent is an act of obedience. So, if we cannot fast, we lose the opportunity of doing something a little difficult, and which we know will please God; which should make us sorry rather than glad. Now, to come to things not absolutely required, but which nevertheless ought to be attended to in Lent, and which must be done, if we wish really to pass it well. They may be classed under the three eminent good works, as they are called; namely--fasting, prayer, and alms. It may seem as if the subject of fasting had been already disposed of. And so it has, perhaps, in the usual sense of the word; we are not required, nor would it probably be advisable, to keep a more rigorous fast than the Church prescribes, at least in point of quantity; but we may give up some things in the way of food, which are not forbidden, practising some voluntary mortification or self-denial, as far as the strength of our souls and bodies will allow. {48} It rarely does us much harm to deny our taste something; to give up or limit ourselves in something which we like particularly, if we do not really need it, and there be plenty besides. And though abstaining from the sin of drunkenness is not probably a mortification, but a most severe obligation at all times, yet, as in this penitential season this vice seems to acquire new malignity, still greater precautions ought to be taken in those occasions which might lead to it. But the word fasting really means more than abstaining from food and drink. It implies self-denial in other ways; and there are a great many ways in which we can deny ourselves besides eating and drinking. The tongue, for example, can be restrained in speaking, as well as in its sense of taste. We can talk a good deal less than we might without sin, as well as eat less, and yet be none the worse for it. Then we can restrain our curiosity for news, both public and private; we can refuse to gratify our sight, hearing, and other senses--in short, there are plenty of ways for one who has the will. {49} But if we have no will for such voluntary mortification, we can at least take patiently what we have to suffer from cold, fatigue, or any pain of body or mind; and not complain of those grievances which come to us from the neglect or carelessness, or even from the bad will, of others, and of which it might seem that we have, in some sense, a right to complain. We may well consider that we have forfeited our rights by sin, and that though sometimes we are bound to claim them, yet often it will be better to give them up. But what are the motives for all this self-denial? There are many. One is to make up, in some degree, for having gone beyond what was allowable by now stopping somewhat short of it; that is, to atone for our sins. But besides this, it makes us love ourselves less, and God and our neighbor more; and it makes us a great deal more free really than if we were all the time having our own way, for it takes away a thousand cares and anxieties which are all the time distracting us, and keeping us from attaining the end for which we were created. Nor can we be happy without self-denial, strange as it may seem; for we cannot be happy unless we are contented; and the only way to become contented is to cease to care about the many things which we are always desiring but often cannot have; and the only way to do this thoroughly is sometimes to give them up when we can have them. Besides this, God is pleased and gives us grace when we deny our selves; for it shows our love for Him. {50} And at this time He seems specially to ask these sacrifices from us. "Now is the acceptable time"; and if we do not make them now, there is not much chance that we will at any other season of the year. Then we must make more prayer now than usual, employing in this way the time that we cut off from other things. Try to come to early Mass on week-days; of course, nothing can be better than to assist at this, the greatest act of Christian worship. Also, come to Vespers on Sunday, and say the beads at home, in common if possible, and as many other prayers as there is time for, especially such as are indulgenced, for these are, of course, more powerful in satisfying for sin. And in this time of special trial for the Church and the Holy Father, we will not forget to pray that the triumph of our Faith, which is sure to come sooner or later, may be speedy; that the plans of the persecutors of the Holy See may be utterly defeated; and that they may return as obedient children to their Mother and ours, the Holy Catholic and Roman Church. But, besides these devotions, which we can practise at any time, there are also others peculiar to this season: those in the church on Wednesday and Friday nights, which will be the same as in previous years, and which will, no doubt, be attended as well as or even better than they have been heretofore. {51} There will be a sermon every Wednesday, and the Stations on Friday. Next to repenting of sin and confessing it, one can hardly do anything more pleasing to God in the time of Lent than to assist at the Stations, and help to commemorate His bitter sufferings and those of His Blessed Mother. "He was wounded for our iniquities, He was bruised for our sins; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and by His bruises we are healed." Surely, the least we can do at this season, when the Church presents His Passion to our minds, is to come and go with Him over the way of sufferings by which we were redeemed. You will notice, also, by looking at the table of festivals at the door, that the Church commemorates, on every Friday during Lent, some one of the mysteries of the Passion. These mysteries we will do well to think of specially. Try to come every Wednesday and Friday, and not miss a single evening from this to Good Friday; and also persuade others to come who are not here to-night, or who have not been in the habit of coming; and come not for amusement, or even principally for instruction, but for the honor and glory of God and the good of your souls. {52} Much hardly needs to be said about alms, the last of the eminent good works. It is evident enough how pleasing it is to God, and what a rich reward it secures for us. In the office of next Sunday the Church reminds us specially of this, saying, in the words of Holy Scripture, "Break thy bread for the hungry, and bring the needy and wandering into thy house; then shall thy light shine forth as the morning, and thy justice shall go before thy face." And, during the following week, she repeats: "Give alms to the poor, and it shall pray for thee to the Lord; for as water quenches fire, so do alms extinguish sin." That is, if we have repented of our sins, almsgiving will satisfy for them; and if we have not, almsgiving will help us to have contrition to repent, and will move God to give us abundant grace; He will be obliged, as it were, by gratitude, to give it to us; for He has said, "As long as you did it to one of these My least brethren, you did it to Me." Almsgiving will not save us without repentance, but it will help us very much to have repentance; and, to impress us with its importance, our Lord seems, in His own description of the last judgment, to make our salvation depend upon the charitable works which we have done in this life. And if, by His grace, we have repented of sin and confessed it, almsgiving will give us a degree of merit and amount of reward which we may, in one sense, call unjust and excessive, so great is the mercy of God. {53} Fasting, prayer, and alms; self-denial, devotion, and charity; these are the principal good works at this and every time; but they are more urgent and necessary now than usual, if we wish to obtain the special fruit of this holy season. And, besides these, we must not put away the spirit of humiliation and penance expressed in receiving the ashes this morning. These are not for Ash-Wednesday alone, but for the whole of Lent. We must abandon, in spirit at least, the vain distinctions by which we are trying to raise ourselves above others, and follow, at a great distance, the example of our God and Saviour, who, being our Creator and absolute Master, became the servant of servants for our sake. And we have an immense number of sins which are not yet fully expiated; for these we must do penance sometime or other, before death or after it, in this world or in purgatory. We can do it better now than at any other time; first, because we are obliged to do some difficult things, which can be made to pay this temporal debt if they are done with the right spirit and intention; and, also, because penance is the spirit of the season, and we can come to the church oftener, and do of our own accord other things which are a little inconvenient and put us to some trouble, without any danger of attracting attention or of getting proud about it; for others will be doing the same. {54} Finally, my brethren, in the words of the Apostle, "We exhort you that you receive not the grace of God in vain." This may be our last Lent; it certainly will be for some of us; but, at any rate, we shall not feel sorry to have spent it as if it were so. God's love for us is immense; He is continually giving us fresh graces, which we are trampling under our feet; but there will come a time when I will not say His patience will be exhausted, but when, in the course of His providence, we must be taken from this world, and grace for us will be no more. Then, when we lie on our death-bed, we shall look back--if, indeed, we are able to collect our thoughts--upon the gifts of God which we have thrown away, and wish most earnestly for a day, or even an hour, of the time that we have wasted. Then, if we have spent this Lent badly, we shall remember it and the others that we have neglected, and bitterly repent our neglect when it is too late. Then we shall fear and tremble at the thought of the awful judgment of God, before whose face we are so soon to appear; or, if we have confidence that by His mercy the guilt of our sins has been taken away, we shall still feel how unfit we are, after a sinful life, to remain in His sight, and shall see the flames of purgatory prepared to expiate those offences for which this Lent and the others we have wasted might have atoned. Perhaps years of suffering will await us there instead of the few days of penance which we have refused in this life. {55} And, even if we have spent this time well, we shall then see clearly how we might have spent it better; and every good work which we could properly have done, which we had the grace and opportunity for, and yet did not do, will give us more sorrow than its omission gave relief. But let us hope better things. There is no reason why this Lent should not be for us all that God meant it to be. That it may be so, the first thing to do, and the most agreeable of all, is to get into the grace and friendship of God, if we are now in sin; and then we have only to go on and do what we can, not in a grudging or weary spirit, but cheerfully and with our whole heart, to please our good God, who loves us each as much as if we were His only creature, and has done infinitely more for us already than we can ever do for Him. His Blessed Mother and the saints, especially St. Joseph, under whose patronage the greater part of Lent almost always comes, will help us, and we shall have joy enough in our souls to fully make up for all that is unpleasant or tiresome. And all the while we shall, by penance, be shortening the road that lies between us and our true home in heaven, where our Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, the Blessed Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, is waiting to have us come and be happy with Him for all eternity. ----------------------- {56} Sermon IV. Pretended And Real Christians. (At Special Lenten Service.) 2 Cor. vi. 1. "__And we do exhort you that you receive not the grace of God in vain__." What is the reason, my dear brethren, that you are all here to-night? I know very well what it is. There are very few who have not one and the same reason. You came because you wish, when you are removed out of this world, to reach the kingdom of heaven. You came because you would secure yourselves from the punishments denounced by God against the sinner. You came here to-night because you feel a strong interest in the salvation of your souls. It is the grace of God which stirs within your hearts and impels you to come. Now you are here, I say to you, with St. Paul, "Let not this grace of God be in vain." It is not enough to come within the church-walls and hear the voice of the preacher, unless you arc also willing and anxious to follow out his instructions. {57} I want to tell you what it is to be rightly and truly called a Christian, and to have a well-grounded hope of salvation. A vast number of absurd notions are afloat in the minds of many as to what it is to be a Christian. Where they came from, I cannot tell. It is not from the Church, for she never has taught them, and never can teach them. It is not from good sense and right reason, for they teach exactly the contrary. It must be from the devil, for he is said, in Scripture, to be a liar and the father of lies, and these lies are the very ones which are the most destructive of the soul. One of these lying notions is that outward communion with the Church of God renders a man a true Christian, and makes him sure of his salvation. The Pharisees had this idea. "Are we not children of Abraham?" they said. But what did St. John the Baptist say? "Say not to yourselves, We have Abraham for our father; for I say unto you that God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham. Bring forth, therefore, fruit worthy of penance." [Footnote 8] [Footnote 8: St. Matthew iii. 9.] {58} And our Saviour said unto them, "If you be the children of Abraham, do the works of Abraham." If there are any Catholics foolish enough to build their hopes of salvation on the mere fact of being Catholics, without having the spirit and the works of the Catholic religion, let them consider the fearful denunciation of our Lord against them. Take the parable of the wheat and the tares. The kingdom of heaven is like to a man who sowed wheat in his field, and by-and-by, when it came up, a quantity of weeds, or tares, came up with it. The servants asked their lord, "Shall we not go out and pull up the tares?" "No," he replied; "lest, pulling out the tares, ye pull out the wheat with them. Suffer them to grow together until the harvest, and then the wheat shall be gathered into my barn, and the tares shall be bound up into bundles to be burned in the fire." The question is not--Am I growing in the field of the Church? but--Am I the wheat? or the tares, fit only for the burning? Our Lord never seems to grow tired of denouncing this doctrine. Listen to His description of the last judgment: "And when the master of the house shall be gone in, and shall shut the door, you shall begin to stand without, and knock at the door, saying: Lord, open to us; and he answering, shall say to you: I know not whence you are. Then you shall begin to say: We have eaten and drunk in thy presence, and thou hast taught in our streets. And he shall say to you: I know not whence you are; depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity." [Footnote 9] [Footnote 9: St. Luke xiii. 25-27.] {59} You see, then, the plea of being familiar in the house of God, of eating and drinking in His presence, is of no avail. Others, who are not in the outward Church of God, though in it in heart and soul, may enter the kingdom of God, but all the wicked in the Church shall be thrust out. "There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. When you shall see Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, and you shall be cast out. And they shall come from the east and from the west, and from the north and from the south, and shall sit down in the kingdom of God." It is no doubt of immense and incalculable benefit to be within the pale of the Church, and within reach of the Sacraments, but if you presume on this alone, instead of getting any benefit, you will only make them the occasion of your damnation. You have received this great grace, but remember that you are thereby rendered responsible for the right use of it. "Brethren, beware lest you receive this grace of God in vain." Now, there is another false idea of what it is to be a Christian, and I am convinced that this prevails much more extensively, for, after all, few are foolish enough to build their hopes of salvation exclusively in the mere fact of being outward members of the Church of God. {60} This idea is, that, if a man belongs to the Church and does some good and religious acts, he can indulge himself to some extent in mortal sin, and still be a Christian and expect heaven. I know very well there are many sinners who know better. When they sin, they are aware of what they are about: they know well that they lose heaven, and that they renounce all pretensions to be true Christians, and this salutary knowledge drives them back to repentance and their duty; but are there not some who persuade, or half persuade, themselves to the contrary? They drink in sin like water, and make themselves out to be pretty good Christians notwithstanding. Do they not go to Mass? Do they not appear occasionally in the tribunal of penance? Do they not cry, Lord, Lord, and beat their breasts, and call to mind that there is such a being as God, and that they must do something now and then to please Him, or else He will get angry with them? And then they go off and sin as hard as they can, until they come to Mass again, and beat their breasts once more, and cry out, Lord, Lord, again. The Chinese do very much the same thing. They set up a huge, ugly idol in their temples, and now and then go and prostrate themselves before it, and burn incense, and make some offering. This is the sum and substance of religion with them, and I fear it is the idea some Catholics, in their ignorance of their holy religion and through their evil disposition, have formed to themselves, too. {61} Sin all the week, and try to appease the anger of the Almighty on the Sunday by some false and hypocritical acts of worship! Why, they must think God to be something like the idols of the heathen, instead of being, as He is, the God of in finite power, and wisdom, and goodness. What is the story of such people in the confessional? Sin, mortal sin, is a matter of course with them. Have they undertaken to deny themselves anything they had a strong desire for, in order not to commit mortal sin? No indeed! They think it quite excuse enough that they were tempted. "I could not help it, I was tempted." "Are you determined not to commit this sin again?" "I do not know; I will not unless I am tempted." The power of God is held very cheap by such people. They stand ready to sell it for little or nothing at any time: for a filthy gratification, for a drunken debauch, for a dollar or two. Judas sold our Lord for thirty pieces of silver. They would sell Him for two or three. Such a person comes to confession after an interval of a year or so. What is his story? Guilty of frequent absence from Holy Mass without any excuse--guilty of repeated drunkenness--guilty of cursing, swearing, and indecent language--guilty of unchaste conduct. Such has been his life for many years past; and such, it is to be feared, will be his life until death closes it. {62} His purposes of amendment are only on his lips, and not in his heart. They are made, not to be fulfilled, but to be broken. And yet such men persuade themselves that this kind of religion is acceptable to God, and that it is going to bring them to heaven. Of what value are your prayers it you lead such a life? The prophet Isaias tells you: "Offer sacrifice no more in vain: incense is an abomination to me. The new moons, and the Sabbaths, and the other festivals, I will not abide; your assemblies are wicked. My soul hateth your new moons, and your solemnities; they are become troublesome to me: I am weary of bearing them. And when you stretch forth your hands, I will turn away my eyes from you; and when you multiply prayer, I will not hear; for your hands are full of blood. Wash yourselves, be clean, take away the evil of your devices from my eyes; cease to do perversely, learn to do well." [Footnote 10] [Footnote 10: Isaias i. 13-17.] Now, I have placed before your eyes the picture of a false and hypocritical religion, on the one hand; I will hold up before you, on the other, the idea of a real, true, genuine Christianity, which will certainly lead the soul to heaven--the idea of our Lord Himself in the holy Gospels. {63} He invariably represents the true Christian as one thoroughly converted from the evil of his ways. He compares him to a tree-- "A good tree," He says, "cannot bring forth bad fruit; neither can a bad tree bring forth good fruit." Why not? Because there is good sap in the good tree, which goes alike into all the fruit of the tree, and makes it all of a good quality, whilst the harsh and sour sap of the bad tree affects all its fruit, and makes it all bad. A real Christian has a thoroughly good disposition. He fears God, and keeps His commandments. This principle of his affects all his actions. The whole tenor and course of his life is good. He no longer brings forth evil actions. He may have been bad once, but he has turned once for all and finally from the evil of his ways, and has become good. Once he had a bad disposition; he committed sin, and gratified his unlawful passions, in spite of God and His commandments, and his fruit or actions were corrupted by his bad dispositions. They were all worthless for eternal life. But he turned to God with his whole heart; he was grafted into Christ, and it is the sap and nourishment of Christ that flows through his soul, rendering him a new man, and his actions meritorious of an everlasting reward. To be a Christian is represented also under this very figure. {64} St. Paul says: "But you have not so learned Christ, but you have been taught in Him to put off, according to the former conversation, the old man, who is corrupted according to the desire of error. And be renewed in the spirit of your mind: and put on the new man, who, according to God, is created in justice, and holiness of truth." [Footnote 11] [Footnote 11: Eph. iv. 20-24.] And then we have a beautiful summary of the practical uprightness and candor of the thus newly-created man, and of the excellent fruit of virtue which should proceed from him: "Wherefore putting away lying, speak ye the truth every one to his neighbor, for we are members one of another. Be angry, and sin not; let not the sun go down upon your anger. Give not place to the devil. Let him that stole, steal no more; but rather let him labor, working with his hands that which is good. Let no evil speech proceed from your mouth. ... Let all bitterness and anger, and indignation and clamor, and blasphemy be put away from you. ... And be ye kind and merciful and forgiving, even as God has forgiven you in Christ." [Footnote 12] [Footnote 12: __Ibid__. iv. 25-32.] These are, indeed, golden words, which deserve to be read over time and again, and pondered in our hearts, and embodied, every one of them, in fervent prayers and ardent desires, arising like incense out of our hearts to God, that we may have the grace to realize in ourselves the pattern of the true Christian which they present to us. {65} Let us listen once more to the holy apostle, threatening us if we fail to conform to this measure and standard of the Christian life: "The night is past, and the day is at hand; let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light. Let us walk honestly as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in contention and envy; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh in its concupiscences." [Footnote 13] [Footnote 13: Rom. xiii. 12-14.] Again: "Know ye not that the unjust shall not possess the kingdom of God? Be not deceived. Neither fornicators, nor adulterers, nor the effeminate, nor sodomites, nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, nor railers, nor extortioners, shall possess the kingdom of God; and such some of you were, but you are washed, but you are sanctified, but you are justified in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, and in the Spirit of our God." [Footnote 14] [Footnote 14: I Cor, vi. 9-11.] You see that unless one puts away all these things he has no right to the hopes of a Christian. A Christian is a follower of Christ. Do we follow Christ when we go to places of drunkenness and debauchery? Do we follow Christ when we refuse to forgive our enemies? Do we follow Christ when we are covetous and hard hearted? {66} Look at the first Christians. They were Jews; but when they heard the news of the Gospel of Christ, they turned with their whole hearts to conform to it. They burned their bad books. They quit their evil ways. They confessed their sins. They were even willing to sell all their goods, and throw the proceeds into a common fund, because this religion appeared to them of more value than all the world besides. They were one in heart and soul. They were steadfast in prayer, and blameless in their lives. You might say of them, without hesitation, that they were of such as should be saved, and their names were written in the Book of Life. Look at the martyrs. When it was a question of obeying God, they laid down their lives rather than disobey. They did not commit mortal sin, and say, "Oh! it is nothing. I will just swing the censer to that image, or offer that sacrifice, for the fire is too hot, or the sword is too keen, but I will still remain a Christian in my heart." No, indeed! They were not Christians of this sort; but they suffered by the fire, and by the sword, and from the wild beasts, and all kinds of cruel deaths, and thus manfully they earned the kingdom of heaven. These were Christians; and they teach us what that sacred name of Christian means. {67} What kind of Christians are we? Let each one ask himself this question: Do I come up to the standard? Am I worthy of the name? Have I any real, well-grounded hope of salvation? Am I, this moment, in a state of salvation or of damnation? Have I the principle, the fixed, well-grounded principle, which ought to govern all the actions of a Christian? Have I considered this matter, and looked it steadily in the face? These are important questions, and now is the time to answer them. If you have been Christian in name heretofore, but heathen in life, do not let this Lent go by without a thorough change. Arise out of this miserable state, and put on the Lord Jesus Christ. Devote the whole of this Lent to this purpose. Say--I have a most important business to transact, and it must be done at once, before the Lent is over. Turn away from all sin with horror, and to God with your whole heart. Drop all foolish amusement. Drop all sinful company. Drop all excess in eating and drinking. Drop, as far as possible, all anxiety about business, or any worldly affairs, and give your attention to your poor soul. Think, oh! think of eternity, of death, of judgment, of the punishments denounced upon sinners. Do not let the thoughts of these things leave your minds. Force yourselves to think upon them--it is all-important to you. And pray: cry to God for mercy. {68} The promise is sure: "Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." Make such a use of this season of penance as God and the Church wish you to, and you will find it the best, the most profitable, the most joyful of your whole life. You will exclaim--I was poor, wretched, blind, now I see, now I am rich in grace, now I am indeed happy, for God has spoken the word of peace to my soul. Never, never more will I be so ungrateful as to offend Him again. ------------------- {69} Sermon V. The Sins And Miseries Of The Dram-seller. Habacuc II. 15. __"Woe to him that giveth drink to his friend, and presenteth his gall, and maketh him drunk."__ I once made a journey to a strange country; and so utterly at variance did all the social customs and personal lives of its inhabitants seem to be with the ordinary habits of people of this world, that I thought for a moment I must have stumbled upon beings who had been transplanted from some other planet. Among other remarkable features in their character, I noticed that, instead of being as ambitious of obtaining a high reputation amongst their neighbors as men generally are, the inhabitants of that country were striving, as it appeared to me, during every leisure hour they could spare from their daily labor, to lower themselves in the estimation of others and become degraded. Instead of riches, they sought poverty; instead of learning, ignorance; instead of health, disease; and a premature death rather than a long life. {70} The means to which they resorted to bring this about seemed equally strange. By a sort of general consent, a certain number of them were chosen to absorb all the respectability, property, and comfort of the rest. These individuals distributed themselves about in different quarters of the towns, and you could easily have recognized their habitations from the rest for being the finer buildings, which increased in size as the surrounding dwellings of their neighbors became the more squalid, desolate, and uninhabitable. They, with their wives and children, also added the more to their comfort and luxury as the families about them became the nakeder and the hungrier. So far was all this carried, that, I observed, not a few, after having given up all their own, would often go and steal from others, and carry not only money, but even articles of furniture and clothing, to these men, who seemed also to be very popular persons and great favorites, if I might judge of the number of their clients and the pleasure apparently derived from long visits to them, to the loss of the company of their friends and families, and of their natural rest after wearisome days of toil. I wondered greatly at all this, and asked my guide to explain it to me. "Do you not see," said he, "that these rich and powerful persons are in possession of a wonderful elixir? {71} It is said to produce happiness for those who may obtain a little of it, and these people are so anxious to be happy that they eagerly give up all they have, and all they hope for in this world and the next, in order to get some of it." "I do not see," I said, "that it makes those who use it happy; on the contrary, they seem to me to be really bartering all their means of happiness away, and getting nothing but misery in exchange." "You need only look around you upon those comfortless homes and diseased men and women, and glance at their daily lives, to confirm the truth of your observation," he replied. "Then these poor, misguided souls are only grasping at shadows of happiness, and losing the reality in the meanwhile?" "You have spoken the truth," said he; "and you need not be surprised at it, for the country you are in is called the Land of the Shadow of Happiness." "I will tarry no longer here," said I, "for the sight sickens me. I will return quickly to my own country." "So you may," said my guide; "but the seller of the shadow of happiness lives and thrives with you also." "Does he?" I asked. "And what may he be called?" {72} "The Dram-seller." I awoke from my reverie, and found myself standing, not in a strange land, but in the streets of my own city, before a fine brick building, ornamented with cut stone, proudly rearing its showy front, and looking down with contempt upon the humble homes of the poor that surrounded it; and glittering in the sunshine shone the gilded sign-board over its doors, "IMPORTED WINES AND LIQUORS." Yes, the dram-seller lives and thrives with us, too--the vender of the shadow of happiness, and dealer in ignorance, disease, degradation, poverty, ruined reputations, strifes, jealousies, insanity, delirium tremens, and dishonored and early graves. The drunkards whom he makes are wretched enough, and commit, through their intemperance, the most grievous of crimes; but I know not if the sins and miseries of the dram-seller be not worse and far more hopeless of reparation than theirs. For in one it is often the result of weak and uneducated minds, unable to use God's gifts in moderation, or to bear up against the trials and temptations of this life; but the other must be a cold, heartless, calculating, money-worshipping soul, who can thus fatten himself upon the sinful appetites of others, and from year to year defraud his neighbor by the sale of his vile, adulterated trash, and take the hard-earned dollars of his customers in exchange for it without a blush. {73} The dram-seller and his traffic is a well-known and prominent rock of scandal in the community, whether it be the secret sale from one barrel of beer or liquor in the earth-floored shanty, or the flourishing business of a well-stocked and gilded saloon. What are the sins of the dram-seller? He sins against justice and against charity. He sins against justice. To all who have examined the matter, it is a well-established fact that in every case this business is necessarily connected with the sale of false, adulterated articles, and with an unreasonable, unrighteous, and usurious profit. And the only excuse any one connected with it has ever been able to offer is, that they are obliged, if they sell at all, to keep cheap liquors for poor people, or that, if the article is adulterated, it is none of their business, for they sell it, either just as they purchase it from large dealers, or, at the worst, only add a certain modicum of water, as they say __the raw spirit might do the poor people harm!__ But they know the fact as well as I know it, that scarcely one drop is dealt out by them that is not more or less adulterated; that their so-called wines never saw the juice of the grape; that their brandies, and rums, and cordials are all composed of proof spirit, coloring matter, drugs of the most poisonous character and deadly strength, and water. I am in possession of a document circulated privately among these manufacturers of "imported wines and liquors," which purports to give recipes for making any kind of wine, liquor, or cordial you can name, with the address of certain houses where the drugs I have alluded to may be obtained. {74} A friend was invited by a dram-seller to visit his vaults. Taking out the bung of a large hogshead, he drew up from the liquor by a cord a gauze bag of very small dimensions, and, with a peculiar wink of his eye, remarked, "You see, that's the way we manage it." "Oh! that's the way you manage it, is it?" the friend replied. "I am very glad to know it." The cheap materials from which the drink ordinarily sold is manufactured, and the large adulteration with water made on their own premises by the retailers, enables them to make the most exorbitant, usurious profits. The popular wonder is, how so many can carry on the business and make money by it. That is the reason. If the character of the drink sold, or the adulteration of it, were always harmless to the consumer, there might be a semblance of palliation to this iniquity, though no just excuse even then; for in such a case the consumer does not get either what he supposes or the worth of his money. {75} But when we see the dreadful effects produced by these liquors, the morbid cravings which they engender in those who partake of them, the extra-ordinary prostration of mind and body caused by a fit of intoxication on them, the physical and moral degradation resulting from their constant use, there can be no excuse for the dispensing of such noxious articles, and he who practises it is guilty of a fraud--a fraud of the basest and most criminal character upon the people, and makes himself a fit object for the scorn and righteous indignation of a just community. Am I not right in saying that the dram-seller sins against justice? 2. The dram-seller sins against charity. He sins against himself, his spiritual and temporal good, and that of his family. The business is a proximate occasion of sin, and good morals can never allow one to remain in that state. In the first place, it is a proximate occasion of the sin of drunkenness for himself and for the members of his household. The necessity of pleasing and attracting his customers obliges him often to treat and be treated during the day. The effect of this constant tippling is very visible in the persons of those who have been some time in the business, and the number of those who fall into the sin of drunkenness from the proximity of the occasion furnished by the sale is very great. It is not an unfrequent occurrence for them to take the pledge, in order to prevent themselves from drinking with their customers. {76} Their wives, children, and clerks are exposed to the same occasion of sin. The language and character of the frequenters of the dram-shop are demoralizing to the last degree, not only to the man, but to the wife and children, and pave the way to every conceivable crime. How many a young man has engaged in this vile traffic, who commenced it sober and virtuous, but who, by the occasions it presented, soon became a degraded and irreclaimable sot! And when he first thought of going into it, how his conscience reproved him, how often he reflected that this was not a fit thing for a good Catholic and practical Christian. When he met the priest in the street the day or so after the opening of his store or saloon, how he reddened up to the eyes, and was glad if he perchance passed him without observing him his pastor, whose nod, and smile, and shake of the hand, and cheery "God bless you!" he used to be so anxious and happy to have from the hour of childhood. But now his uneasy conscience keeps him away altogether from the Sacraments, and often from Mass. If people enquire what has become of him lately, or wonder that he is seen no longer at the altar, the answer that he "has opened a liquor store" is deemed a sufficient one. {77} And knowing the wrongs from it, I thank God that there is such a sense of Christian propriety and rectitude in the public conscience left amongst us, that will deem such, a response a sufficient one. I know that, as time goes on, and the greed of gain takes possession of them, the conscience gets less clamorous: but it is scarcely ever completely blunted. They are always rather ashamed of the business, and never mention the fact of their being engaged in it in an open, frank manner. A person, whom I did not know, called upon me once to consult me upon an affair, and I had occasion to ask him his profession. He replied, evasively, "I am a member of the ---- Convention." "But your business is--" "Oh!--ah! (hesitating) a grocery and liquor store." But the sin which adds the last and most grievous stain upon the dram-seller and his traffic is the heinous breach of Christian charity against his neighbor. He wrongs his neighbor in his property, his person, his soul, his family, and in all his social relations. He makes bad husbands, bad wives, immoral children. And all good citizens and practical Catholics will bear me out in the assertion that the dram-shop is the gulf which swallows the hard earnings of the laboring classes; the health, property, happiness, life, and well-being of thousands of the community; and is the responsible first cause of the increase of pauperism, and crime, and the consequent burden of taxation upon the State. {78} Recent statistics show that, in the cities of New York and Boston, there is a dram-shop for every one hundred inhabitants; and that, in Boston alone, the arrests for public drunkenness in one year were equal to one in ten of the entire population. This is a horrible state of things. As a contrast, I remember preaching a mission in a certain town where, by the exertions of the parish priest, all Catholics, save one, had given up the traffic. We found the sin of drunkenness in that place comparatively rare. No one who has examined the matter will pretend to dispute the fact that drunkenness increases in the same ratio with the multiplication of the dram shop. It is therefore a public nuisance, a crying scandal amongst us, a proximate occasion of sin, an iniquitous trade in which no good Christian can engage without putting the salvation of his soul in peril. Such or such a man and his family whom you could name were happy enough before he got enticed into the dram-shop. It was a sight to make the angels smile to witness the clean, bright home that man found on his return from business. Every thing was there to cheer him. The wife welcomed him with an unclouded brow. The children dropped their playthings to run and embrace him. If he had not luxury about him, he had plenty and comfort. Plenty of furniture, plenty of clothes for his work, and a new suit for the Sunday morning. {79} The table wanted nothing but the blessing upon the food whenever the meal time came. The doctor's bill never came so very heavy, and, if one of the family happened to be ill a little longer than common, he felt a worthy pride in being able to go and pay the doctor at his office, and exchange thanks. His name was good in the bank whenever he wanted money; and, as year by year rolled by, he was getting up in the world. Men talked of his "good luck," as they called it. Friends whispered, about election times, that he would make a capital fellow for this or that vacant office in his township. No family stood higher in respect, if they did in wealth, at the parish church than his. Happy and beloved at home in the bosom of his family; honored and respected abroad; at peace with God and man; what fiend will dare bring his foul presence within the circle of so much joy? Alas! for the dark day that he was bidden by the dram-seller to "be neighborly and come in and take a friendly glass." Alas! for the fatal hour when the tempter invited him to "come round of an evening, and be sociable, and not to be such a man-baby tied to his wife's apron-strings." Now it begins the oft-told, woeful tale. A hurried supper, and out for the evening. Later and later he returns, with the signs of liquor on him. He used to try to hide it at first by washing his mouth with water and taking a smart walk. But he takes too much now to care for Appearances; nor is he able for the walk. {80} In order to smooth over matters, he takes an opportunity on his wife's birthday, and brings out the bottle and proposes her health, and makes her drink with him; and then a little taste of the sugared drops at the bottom of the glass for the children. It is brought out every day now; and when the night comes, the wife sits up late, goes often to the window, watching his return, and there's a heavy weight at her heart that forces from her eyes many a bitter tear. The plague marches fast. He is drunk every Saturday night, and seldom goes to Mass. Work or business is neglected, and the time spent at the bar-room. The money leaks away extraordinarily fast. Articles of furniture are pawned--first for food, soon for drink. The wife helps on destruction by trying to drown her sorrow in a glass of liquor now and then. The best Sunday suit and the new bonnet and shawl are no longer in the wardrobe. The children's bare feet peep out of old shoes, and a strange sadness and silence has come over the once merry little group. They seem to be getting old-fashioned in their ways, and less like children. Is that the reason, I wonder, why there are no new toys and presents now at Christmas or at Easter, as in the days gone by? Soon comes debt. {81} He had to go in debt to procure the necessaries of life, but spared a little of the borrowed money to get his daily drams at the grog-shop. But debt must be paid, and, as he has nothing to discharge it with, a few days of delay, and there is a sheriff's execution in the house. All the furniture swept, away! From bad to worse, from one step to an other: down goes the family to beggary and vice. Frequent quarrels, blows, and curses pass between husband and wife, the children and their parents. He gets an odd job to do now and then, for he is turned out of his regular situation, and drinks a part of the wages, not at his old friend's, but at a low beer-shop; for one night, after the sale of his house and lot, he demanded trust for liquor; but, as he had spent his last dollar, his friend, the dram-seller, told him, "__he__ kept a decent place, and wouldn't have any drunkards around __him__," and kicked him out of doors, bidding him go home and take care of his wife and family! The wife begs around for broken victuals, with a downcast face, and her old hood pulled far over her forehead to hide a black eye and her untidy hair. The boy, his eldest boy, that was to be sent to college, was sent up last week to prison for shoplifting; and the girl--where is she gone? Answer me, dram-shop, where is the girl gone? And now I have more to ask of you, O mouth of hell! Where is the house and lot gone to? {82} Where is the furniture gone to? Where now are the good husband, the happy father, the thrifty wife, the faithful mother, the innocent children, the food on the table, the fire on the hearth, the comfort and joy and good name and trust and neighborly confidence, and the good Christians, the pious Catholics, that used to be at Mass every Sunday morning in their places? Answer me. Do you not hear a righteous God, your judge, demanding in tones of wrath, "Dram-shop, where are my children? You--you have robbed me of my beautiful flock!" O cruel dram-seller! O dram-shop! scandal of our times, look upon the ruin you have wrought! See the black cloud which hangs over your dwelling. It is a threatening mass of darkness and woe, made up of heavy curses, of sighs from broken hearts, the gloom of grievous bitterness of spirit; and that cloud is pregnant with hidden lightnings and thunders of the wrath of God descending upon you. "Woe to him that giveth drink to his friend, and presenteth his gall, and maketh him drunk, that he may behold him stripped and naked. Thou art filled with shame instead of glory; drink thou also, and fall fast asleep; the cup of the right hand of the Lord shall compass thee, and shameful vomiting shall be on thy glory." [Footnote 15] [Footnote 15: Habac. ii. 15, 16.] {83} Your sin is the sin of Ephraim, whom the prophet reproved. You make to yourself an idol of gain. "And Ephraim said, But yet I am become rich. I have found me an idol: all my labors shall not find me the iniquity that I have committed." [Footnote 16] To that idol you have sacrificed men, women, and children, and brought upon many a wretched soul temporal and eternal ruin--robbing heaven of saints, and filling up the caverns of hell. [Footnote 16: Osec xii. 8.] [USCCB: Hosea xii. 9.] Hear what God answers to Ephraim: "I will meet them as a bear that is robbed of her whelps; I will rend the inner parts of their bodies, and I will devour them as a lion; the beast of the field shall tear them." [Footnote 17] [Footnote 17: Osec xiii. 8.] [USCCB: Hosea xiii. 8.] Your very daily walks must be misery to you, one would suppose. For how can you put on those fine clothes, and see your children clad in warm coats and caps and shoes, and your wife parading that beautiful new silk dress and expensive jewelry, when you know that they were bought with money that ought to have been used to clothe a family that goes about our streets in destitution and nakedness so pitiable that it makes the heart ache? How can you sit down and ask God's blessing upon your plentifully supplied table, if you ever do it now, when the hand that gave you the money to purchase all these luxuries snatched the piece of bread from the mouths of his starving, hungry children? {84} How can you dare go to sleep in your soft, warm bed, listening to that cutting winter's blast as it goes howling past your windows down the street, and forces its way in the open crevices of the drunkard's shanty, freezing the half-clad forms of his neglected little ones, huddled in the corner upon a filthy wisp of straw? Have you a human heart yet left beating in your bosom? Do you know anything of a husband's affection or of a father's love? Oh! then you must be a miserable man. How do your neighbors speak of you? "Oh! he's a rum-seller." And the tone in which it is spoken is a plain index of the contempt they attach to the name. Your wife is designated as "a rum-seller's wife," and of your children it is remarked, "Their father sells liquor." And it is a common reply of many of the most degraded drunkards, that "although they have drunk pretty hard, they thank God __they__ never sold liquor." Can I ask you to quit it? Yes, I can demand of you to quit it. You admit, and the common sense of the entire community admits, that those low groggeries, in which drunken bacchanalian orgies are of daily and nightly occurrence, ought to be stopped, and that no man who keeps such a place is fit for absolution--that is, none such can claim the right to the sacraments of the Church, living or dying; in a word, cannot save his soul if he be not ready to abandon it. {85} But you tell me that your establishment is not of such a character; you keep a decent house. I would like you to bring me one single liquor-seller who does not say the very same. The business is notoriously vicious and hurtful, and success in it is dependent upon an increase of sin and misery among the people. It is a stumbling-block in the way of the salvation of men addicted to drink, and woe be to that man who dares assume the responsibility for the loss of a soul! I have a right, then, in the name of the general well-being of the community, in the name of Christian charity, by virtue of the warning of our Lord Jesus Christ, that it were "better for a man to have a mill-stone hanged about his neck, and he be cast into the depth of the sea, rather than scandalize one of the children of God," [Footnote 18] to demand of every man who aids, abets, or by his own act takes part in this abominable scandal, to quit it on peril of damnation. [Footnote 18: St. Matt, xviii. 6.] I tell you, moreover, that the holy Catholic Church, which some of you pretend to belong to and to obey, has solemnly declared, in the twenty-second canon of the Third Council of Lateran, that all priests are absolutely forbidden to give absolution to those who remain in any employment, profession, or business which they cannot pursue without sin, because they remain in the occasions of sin. {86} But you insist that such is your business, bad as it is, and you have been brought up to that. Yes, I know it is a bad business, and will be your destruction. And I wish to know if a man must remain a thief because he has been brought up a thief, and never learned an honest trade? "But the loss, father; I cannot afford it." Do you not hear the words of Jesus Christ thundering in your ears: "If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out. If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off. For it were better for thee to enter lame and blind into life everlasting, than, having two hands or two eyes, to be cast into hell-fire"? [Footnote 19] Where is your Christian faith and trust in God? "Seek first the kingdom of God and His justice, and all these things will be added unto you." [Footnote 20] [Footnote 19: St. Matt. v. 29.] [Footnote 20: St. Matt. vi. 33.] No, no, there is not a single excuse which will avail you. I wish I could find one. Many and many a time I have wished I could frame an excuse for it, when the fact has been thrown into my face that so many of our people are engaged in this diabolical, unchristian traffic, and, as a consequence, have propagated amongst us the vice and miseries of drunkenness. {87} Do you love your good name as a citizen? Have you any manly pride left? Do you love your religion? Would you shrink from being the instrument of damnation to your neighbor's soul, or of tying the hands of the priest and preventing the spread of the true faith in our country? Do you love your own immortal soul? Do you hope for heaven? Would you like to hear the approval of your Divine Lord and Master on the Last Great Day of Account? Oh! rise up to the dignity of the Christian vocation to which you are called. Stir up within your hearts that fire of generosity which is never totally extinguished in the Catholic breast, and learn to sacrifice something for the love of God and for the salvation of your neighbor's soul. Believe me, brethren, I have drawn no exaggerated picture of this evil, nor deduced any unwarrantable conclusions. So lamentably true is it all, that, were I to preach this sermon in almost any town or city in the country, there would be found among my hearers some who might imagine I was describing the character and life of their own brother or father, near relation or intimate acquaintance. I appeal to you, therefore, loyal Catholics, to set your faces against the traffic; to aid the priesthood, in company with all who love God and have the social advancement of our people at heart, in denouncing and laboring to extirpate this scandal from our midst. {88} To you who have hitherto been engaged in it, from whatsoever motive, I appeal; and beseech of you, with all the fatherly affection of a Christian priest, and with the supplicating tears and sighs of many a broken heart, for God's sake, for the Church's sake, for your soul's sake, to resolve now, and make that resolution good, that hence forth no man shall point the finger of scorn at you and say: "Woe to him that giveth drink to his friend, and presenteth his gall, and maketh him drunk." ------------------ {89} Sermon VI. Communion With Jesus. (For Holy Thursday.) St. John vi. 57. [USCCB: John vi. 56.] "__He that eateth My flesh and drinketh My blood abideth in Me, and I in him.__" It is right, my dear brethren, that, on this Holy Night we should meditate upon and speak of the solemn and wonderful scene which is commemorated by the Holy Church, the sad farewell which our dear suffering Master took of his disciples before giving Himself up to be crucified, and the institution of the sacred memorial Sacrifice, through which He intended to remain with us always, to be an ever-present Lover and Friend, the Divine Victim for our altars, and the Supreme Offering of thanksgiving for the whole world. Kind Lord, I would I had the tongue of angels to tell the story of all Thou didst on this night for me and all who truly believe in Thee, for human speech is feeble where Thou, my God and my Saviour, art the theme. Help me by Thy grace. {90} Help these Thy people, whose hearts are yearning to hear what Thou hast done; help them, that they may know and understand it better than I can tell them! The Gospel tells us that our Lord made an appointment with His disciples to meet them, and to eat the Paschal Supper alone with them. "And when the hour was come, He sat down, and the twelve disciples with Him." They met in a large upper chamber, far from tumult and noise. Look in, my dear brethren, upon that group. Jesus you cannot fail to choose from among them all. There is a strange beauty about that face, a beauty which at once attracts and awes the beholder, and, what is more, the countenance tells of the hidden beauty of his soul. There is revealed at one glance the beauty of Holiness itself, the most spotless of all innocent lives, the supreme perfection of all virtue, the mirror of all truth. What kindness beams from out [of] those gentle eyes! What a sweet expression plays about the half-parted lips, as a harbinger of some holy words soon to be spoken! What a calm majesty rests upon that broad, pale forehead, needing no crown of gold to tell its royalty! Nor would any one mistake who is Master here. One is the object upon whose word, look, or movements the eyes of all the others wait. They call Him Master. Well they may. He is truly Master of all hearts. They call Him Teacher. Well they may. {91} He is the source of all Truth, the Eternal Wisdom, the Word of God. They call Him Lord. Well they may. He is Lord of lords, and King of heaven and earth. It is Jesus. Seated there, only a few know Him yet as He is. But the world will soon know Him, and curse its ignorance and blindness on that day. Around Him are a few disciples, of whom living men, in ignorance of their worth, despise, but when they are dead their tombs will govern the world. No sooner are they assembled than they know that Jesus has brought them together to bid them farewell. "With desire I have desired to eat this pasch with you before I suffer." Yes, on the morrow He was to be betrayed into the hands of wicked men, and to die in expiation of the sins of the world. But why this desire? The events will show. It was the time of the great feast of the Passover, which the Jews kept every year to commemorate the miracle which took place when that whole nation was in bondage in Egypt--a miracle which brought about their deliverance. Their Egyptian masters refused to set them free, in spite of many warning plagues which God sent upon them; and at last, one terrible night, the angel of God passed through that doomed land, and in the morning the first-born in every Egyptian house lay dead. {92} The Israelites had been commanded by Almighty God, through Moses, to prepare for this, and what they did became, as God intended, a ceremony typical of the greatest mystery the world has ever known--the death of Jesus Christ on the Cross, the deliverance of the world from the slavery of sin and hell by that death, and the institution of a sacrifice which, should be an ever-present, continual, and lively memorial of that act. This is what they did: They killed a lamb without spot or blemish; ate it with unleavened bread; and sprinkled the door-posts of their houses with its blood. "I am the Lord. The blood shall be unto you for a sign in the houses where you shall be, and I shall see the blood, and shall pass over you, and the plague shall not be on you to destroy you when I shall strike the land of Egypt." [Footnote 21] [Footnote 21: Exod. xii. 13.] The performance of this solemn commemorative ceremony was obligatory upon every Jewish family, and this was the occasion which brought our Lord and His disciples together, and you see how exactly the sacrificial death of the Paschal Lamb, the sprinkling of its blood on the door posts, typified the death of Jesus, the Immaculate Lamb of God, whose blood was sprinkled on the wood of the cross. But there is something else for us to note. A part of the lamb was to be eaten, and with unleavened bread. {93} What was that a type of? Was Jesus, the Lamb of God, slain for our sins, to be eaten, and with unleavened bread? Listen to what He said some time before this night: "I am the living bread, which came down from heaven. If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread which I will give is my flesh for the life of the world." [Footnote 22] [Footnote 22: St. John vi. 52.] [USCCB: St. John vi. 51.] Now, after the Paschal Supper was finished, Jesus took the unleavened bread, and gave thanks, and brake, and gave to them, saying--"This is My body which is given for you. Do this for a commemoration of Me. In like manner the chalice, saying, This is the chalice, the New Testament in My blood, which shall be shed for you." Here then, is a perfect fulfilment of the Old Testament. Here is the real Paschal Sacrifice of the New Testament. The supper-table becomes an altar; Jesus becomes, under the forms of unleavened bread and wine, the victim, and He is at the same time the priest. What He did Himself, he tells His disciples to do. "Do this for a commemoration of Me." Then and there He ordains and consecrates them to be priests, and gives them the awful power of sacrificing His body and blood under the forms of bread and wine. {94} From that supper-room they go forth to do His words, and to receive the fulfilment of His promise: "I dispose to you, as My Father hath disposed to Me, a kingdom: that you may eat and drink at My table in My kingdom: and may sit upon thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel." [Footnote 23] [Footnote 23: St. Luke xxii. 29, 30.] What was all that for? Why this sacrifice of the body and blood of Jesus Christ? Why should this be repeated all over the world? Listen once more: "He that eateth My flesh and drinketh My blood abideth in Me, and I in him." The reason was that his disciples and all others who should partake of that sacrifice might be united to Him in the closest manner possible--"should abide in Him, and He in them." We call that sacred act Communion--communion with Jesus. That is what it is, brethren. Our souls and bodies are united in a mysterious manner to the Divine Person of our dear Lord and Saviour, who became man and died on the cross for our salvation. He calls us to this communion, and gives Himself to us as the sweetest pledge of His Divine Love, as the most precious means of our sanctification, as a comforting food, as a holy offering by which we may praise and give thanks to God, as a feast of joy and the kiss of peace to the forgiven sinner. {95} If the Cross be, as it is, the measure of sin by which we offend Jesus, Communion is the measure of the love with which Jesus loves us. Love is measured by sacrifice. One loves another only a little if he is content to give up only a little in the other's favor. His love is perfect if he willingly gives up all. This is what our Lord does in Holy Communion. He sacrifices all for us, because He sacrifices Himself. What do I mean by this sacrifice? He makes Himself so utterly nothing for us, that He does not keep even His appearance. He hides His divinity, His blessed and beautiful Person, under the veils of bread and wine, and in that state He abandons Himself so utterly to our power that we can do what we will with Him. The life of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament is a life of total self-abnegation. He does not even protect Himself from ill-treatment, from the contempt and scoffing sneer of the unbeliever, from the mockery of silly children, nor from the horrible sacrileges committed against Him by bad Catholics. He can suffer all that, and does so without a murmur, in order that He may approach us, and that we may receive Him in such a manner as shall be the best for our comfort, for our joy, for our soul's peace. We know by experience, I hope, what a good, happy communion is. {96} Is it not the moment of supreme happiness, and of such happiness that nothing else is like it in the world? Then we cry Lord, now that Thou art mine and I am Thine, I am all blessed. There is no chord in the heart that does not vibrate with thrills of love at the presence of Jesus. He makes us feel then, more than we can express, how much He loves us; and cold must be the heart that does not respond with some emotion to the sweetness of His loving embrace. The love of our dear Saviour for men is more ardent, more constant, more, shall I say, anxious than __our__ love can ever be; and the reason is, because __His__ love is wholly unselfish. The life of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament proves it. He does nothing there apparently for Himself, nor takes any thought of Himself that we can divine. It is for us that He lives so. For our love He has given up all. You may say that it was by dying for us that He proved His love the best, as He Himself said, "Greater love hath no man than that he should lay down his life for his friend." Yes; but do you not see that it is just in the Blessed Sacrament that He brings that proof home to us? It is a memorial of His passion and death. He has linked the two together, so that they make only one act. The sacrifice of the Mass, in which the bread and wine are consecrated into His body and blood, and the sacrifice of Calvary, are one essential act. {97} It was in the night in which He was betrayed that He instituted it. On __this__ night. What did He say? "This is My body which is given for you. This is My blood which shall be shed for you. Do this for a commemoration of Me"--of Me, upon whom the shadows of death are already falling--of Me, who even now begin to be sorrowful and sad at heart, knowing that My hour is come--of Me, who to-morrow will be spit upon, and scourged, and crowned with thorns, and nailed to a cruel cross, and suffer the bitter agonies of a horrible death for you, My beloved--you for whom I came into the world--you for whom I live--you for whom I die. "A little while I leave you, and a little while I come unto you. Remember that, when we shall meet again. When I come to you in Holy Communion, then you will receive One who you know loved you to the end. I will come to you, and be the surest pledge of what I have done for you, and how much I have loved you." Holy Communion is one of the most powerful means of sanctification granted to us. What shall the presence of the All-Holy be unable to do? What other light and grace could we desire both to detect and shun all evil, and to delight in what is pure and true? Oh! when Jesus comes to the willing heart, and finds a welcome there, all is easy. No tempest of passion or of doubt is to be feared when the Master is with us. {98} My dear brethren, this world is very foolish when it sneers at the sanctification of the soul, or bids us follow its guidance in getting rid of the power or shame of sin, and in our strivings after higher and better things. Little it knows about the true progress of the soul. Jesus, the Eternal Wisdom, is the sole teacher. A fervent communion with Him will do what the world cannot do. It will make us holy. It will make our souls sacred to God--more sacred to Him than the altar before which we bow, or the precious vessels upon it that hold His Body and Blood. If you would confirm that sanctity, come often to the source of sanctity. Come so often that He may be said to abide with you; then will you surely live and die a saint. In the next place, Communion is an act which possesses a peculiar significance for the forgiven sinner. It should have. It was sin that made Him die, and Communion is a memorial of His death. But why is it that a contrite sinner, burdened with the memory of the many outrages he has committed against Jesus Christ by his bad life, by his cursing, his profanation of the Holy Name, his drunkenness and debaucheries, his lies and thefts, his dark crimes, it may be, that make even his brother men shun him as they would a poisonous reptile--why is it, I ask, that even such an one, coming, heartily sorry, to Confession, ready and eager to amend his life and do better, and so receives absolution, should have such a strange longing, as all forgiven sinners do have, to get Communion, and that as soon as possible? {99} One would think they would rather fear to approach Him, and dread to be confronted with the awful memorial of their crucified and so cruelly offended Lord. Not so. Their hearts are Christian after all; and He draws them to Him closer and closer by the strong cords of love the moment they turn to Him. True, He appoints His priest to forgive them in His name. But that does not satisfy the desire with which He desires to be reconciled with them in person. "Come to Me," He cries from the altar; "come to Me now. My poor lost one. Come, get My kiss of peace. Come, we have been separated too long. I have been watching you. I have heard you praying. I saw you go into the confessional. I heard you tell your sins. I saw the tears course down your cheeks. I felt every throb of your heart. My hand, too, gave you absolution and full forgiveness for all. You went there one of the devil's own. Now you are Mine. Come, now, take Me to your heart. We will be friends again, and I shall have only one reproach to make you; Oh! why have you stayed so long away?" The forgiven sinner knows Jesus is saying all this. {100} Do you wonder that he goes home from confession a happy man; that he counts the hours until he can come back, and thinks the time long until he can go up to the Holy Table, and there clasp his long-forgotten and neglected Lord to his bosom? Oh! the earnest, upturned face, radiant with joy, which makes the priest's hand tremble with sympathetic emotion as he gives him the Holy Sacrament. You have seen friends long separated and divided come together and make up. You know what a touching scene it is. There are smiles upon your lips and sparkling tears in your eyes at the same moment. So it is often here when Jesus meets and makes up with old hardened sinners. Blessed, a million times blessed, be the kind and loving heart of Jesus, which, once laid open by the spear, is never shut to any one who will enter in and abide there. Holy Communion is a Feast of Thanksgiving. That is the meaning of the word Eucharist--thanksgiving. It is one of the names of the Blessed Sacrament. You remember that when Jesus first broke the bread on this night He gave thanks. He meant that we also should use it as a worthy and precious thank-offering for all He has done for us; for having created us; for having redeemed us; for having died for us; for His great love in this Holy Sacrament; for all the benefits with which He has crowned our lives. {101} Who is there that can approach here without crying out with the Psalmist, "What shall I render to the Lord for all that He has rendered to me? I will take the chalice of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord." [Footnote 24] [Footnote 24: Ps. cxv. 3, 4.] [USCCB: Ps. cxv. 12, 13.] No word of thanks at your Communion--not a grateful thought in your heart? Oh! how is this? Have you really come back to make up with Him, or have you come--O horrible thought!--only like Judas to betray Him? Does He say to you as He said to that lost disciple, "Friend, dost thou betray the Son of Man with a kiss?" Are you, then, half-minded to go back to your old sins? Have you not, after all, given up the devil and his works? Then I do not wonder that you are thankless and ungrateful. Then I do not wonder at that cloud upon your brow, nor at the indifferent manner in which you presume to receive the Body of your Lord. Friend, that cloud is the shadow of impending damnation. For says the apostle, "He that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the Body of the Lord." [Footnote 25] [Footnote 25: I Cor. xi. 29.] Oh! no; let me hope I am mistaken; that it is far otherwise with you; that if indeed you may have ever done this before, you are not come to repeat it now. {102} Now you have utterly cast off all sin and all intention to sin. Now you wish to belong only to Jesus. Seeing from what a pit of hell He has delivered you, and knowing to what a height of grace and glory He has raised you, I feel sure you are only anxious about one thing, and that is, how you can give expression to the gratitude of which your heart is so full. Shall it be in long, devout prayers, full of emotion and tender feeling, telling the Lord over and over again that you are so thankful for what He has done for you, for His great condescension and surpassing love? Well, brethren, you may do that if you like, and I think Jesus will be pleased with it. But that is not the only test of a thankful heart. If you can say truly--O my Jesus! my dear Lord! I love Thee above all; for Thee I love all that Thou hast loved, even my enemies, and I forgive them all the offences they have done to me, as freely and fully as Thou hast forgiven me; and now it is my firm purpose never to commit another sin while I live--then, dear brethren, I am sure you will praise Him aright. Let your prayer be such as Blessed Henry Suso made in his communion. His words are far better than mine, and they will be more profitable to you. Let me end my discourse with them: {103} "Lord, if my heart had the love of all hearts, my conscience the purity of all angels, and my soul the beauty of all souls, so that by Thy grace I should be worthy of Thee, I wish to receive Thee to-day so affectionately, and so to bury and sink Thee to the bottom of my heart and soul, that neither joy nor sorrow, neither life nor death, could separate me from Thee. Amen." -------------- {104} Sermon VII. The Holy Ghost, The Comforter. For The Feast Of Pentecost. St. John xiv. 16. __"I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Comforter, that He may abide with you for ever."__ To-day is the Church's grand high festival of the coming of that other Comforter, who abides for ever with those whom Jesus loves. We are tempted to wonder why He, who had done so much for the peace of the world, whose coming was the pledge of every joy to the human heart, whose words are a healing balm for every wound, a solace for every misery, and through whom comes all forgiveness for sins, should not have remained Himself to bless and comfort His own with His Divine presence. What other Comforter of our souls would we ask or could we need than Him? Oh! that He had stayed with us! Had we not all in having Him? When the Father in His love sent Him to us, did he not send all He could give? What other Comforter is there in heaven to give that will be better than He? {105} Truly, brethren, we would not be able to imagine that anything more or better could be done for us than that our Blessed Lord should remain amongst us, had He not Himself said: "It is expedient for you that I go; for if I do not, the Comforter will not come to you; but if I go, I will send Him to you." [Footnote 26] [Footnote 26: St. John xvi. 7.] There is a mystery here which we cannot fathom, because we are not able to fathom the works of God. Our Lord knew that it was best for Him to depart, and that the Holy Ghost must come, as He said, to bear testimony of Him, to teach all truth, to fill the hearts of the faithful with grace, and kindle in them the fire of Divine Charity, so that they might strive manfully for the faith, and win the crown of everlasting joy set before them. It is not in vain that our Lord called the Holy Ghost the __Comforter__, which signifies the strengthener. We are weak, vacillating, full of wandering desires, led away from God and heaven by trifles, easily cast down and disheartened, in constant danger by temptation, discouraged by doubts, crushed quickly beneath some present sorrow, and fearful of the coming storms of adversity and grief; and grace, which it is the office of the Holy Ghost to bring to us, is the life-giving force which leads and directs us, which enlightens, strengthens, and comforts us in all. {106} It is this which inspires the Holy Church, in the sequence of the Mass for to-day, to cry "Veni, Sancte Spiritus, Et emitte coelitus Lucis tuae radium. Veni, Pater pauperum, Veni, dator munerum, Veni, lumen cordium. Consolator optime, Dulcis hospes animae, Dulce refrigerium. In labore requies, In aestu temperies, In fletu solatium O Lux beatissima, Reple cordis intima Tuorum fidelium!" I cannot do better than explain these words of the Holy Church, which express in so many beautiful forms the comforting grace of the Holy Ghost. Who is this Divine Comforter? God the Holy Ghost. Not an attribute of God, such as His omnipotence, His omnipresence, His justice or mercy, but the Person of God Himself. God lives in Himself an eternal, infinite life; a mysterious life to us, in that He needs no other object besides Himself to give Him life. {107} God is but one being; and hence the Holy Ghost is the same God as the Father and the Son; but God possesses, as it were, a threefold personal life, which, being mutually dependent and united, is but one. The Father is the Infinite Personal Cause of His own Divine Life; the Son is the Personal Life of God, begotten of the Father; and the Holy Ghost is God personally enjoying, living the Divine Life, begotten by Himself. Think of it! This is what we invoke when we cry, __Veni, Sancte Spiritus!__ This is what was promised by our Lord, when He said: "I will ask the Father, and He will send you another Comforter." The Life of God! Life full beyond human imagination, of ineffable joy, and of peace that passes understanding! Life full of beauty, sublimity, and majesty! Life of omnipotence and of glory! "O Lord, my God," exclaims the enraptured Psalmist, in one of the Psalms of to-day's matins, "Thou art exceedingly great! Thou hast put on praise and beauty, and art clothed with light as with a garment." [Footnote 27] [Footnote 27: Ps. ciii. 1,2.] [USCCB: Ps. civ. 1,2.] {108} The sun rises in his splendor, and no man may look with unblenched gaze upon it; but who shall describe the dazzling brightness of Him who dwells in light inaccessible! And it is a ray of the light of the Life of God we crave for our darkened souls, when we say, __Veni, Sancte Spirtus, et emitte coelitus lucis tuae radium!__ "Come, O Holy Spirit, and send forth upon us a ray of Thy heavenly light!" The coming of the Holy Ghost to man is the completion of the mysterious union between God and us. By the Father Almighty we are created. Something of the hidden essence of Life is given to us in creation. "And the Lord God formed man of the slime of the earth: and breathed into his face the breath of life, and man became a living soul." [Footnote 28] [Footnote 28: Gen. ii. 7.] In creation, we are united to the Life of God the Father. By the Incarnation of the Word, the Son of God, we became, as St. Peter declares, "partakers of the Divine nature." Humanity became united to the Life of God the Son through Jesus Christ; and now the Life of God the Holy Ghost, the Spirit of Love, descends and fills with Divine grace the hearts of the faithful children begotten to God through the creation and Incarnation; the union between God and man is complete, and the love of God to man is exhausted. {109} Truly, the Father Almighty was a Comforter, to bring us out of nothingness, and bestow upon us the boon of being and the joys of an eternal existence. God the Son was a Comforter in redeeming us, and regenerating us, and giving us the right, which angels might envy, to call our Creator our __Father__; but the Holy Ghost was yet another Comforter, and He would not deny Himself to those whom the Father had loved to create, whom He had yet loved more so as to send His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him "might have life, and might have it more abundantly"; and thus the life of man becomes exalted and deified by its union with the Eternal, Infinite life of the Triune God. Look down from the deck of a ship in mid-ocean, and pierce the mighty depths of waters with a glance. Look up into the blue vault of heaven, and with unaided vision scan the uttermost bounds of space, far beyond the dizzy distances where roll the last stars in their lonely course; but fathom if you can the height, the depth, the immensity of that Infinite Life of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, in which, as in a boundless and fathomless ocean of comfort, and as in a measureless firmament of glory and of rapture, the soul of man is swallowed up and lost in the love of his God. {110} But who among men belong thus entirely to God? To whom does the Holy Ghost come in His fulness? Not to all; for I read that our Lord said that "the world cannot receive Him, because it seeth Him not, nor knoweth Him." [Footnote 29] To whom, then? Let St. John answer us: "As many as received Him (Jesus Christ, who is the Word of God), to them He gave power to become the sons of God, to them who believe in His name. Who are born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." [Footnote 30] [Footnote 29: St. John xiv. 17.] [Footnote 30: Ibid. i. 12, 13.] It is not enough, then, to be a creature of God, to be born of the flesh, or of the will of man. The soul who would receive the Holy Ghost, to see and have God in His fulness, must be born of God. "Except a man be born of water and the Holy Ghost, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." [Footnote 31] As the Son of God became incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin, so the sons of men must be born again of water and the Holy Ghost in Baptism, to become the sons of God. Then, and then only, can we call God Father. Then, and then only, do we "receive the spirit of adoption of sons," as St. Paul declares, "whereby we cry, Abba (Father)." [Footnote 32] We must believe in the Word made flesh, in Jesus Christ, else that other Comforter will not come unto us; and hence the Church invokes the Holy Ghost to come down into the hearts of the __faithful__, or the believers in Jesus Christ. [Footnote 31: Ibid. iii. 5.] [Footnote 32: Rom. viii. 15.] {111} "Come, O Holy Spirit! fill the hearts of thy faithful, and kindle in them the fire of thy love." Alas! for those who do not realize this great truth. By their rejection of Jesus Christ and the new birth unto God in Baptism, they remain for ever in the lower sphere of the simple creature, with no hope of the enrapturing vision of the Blessed Trinity when their souls shall have passed beyond this human life, in which the choice of that higher destiny is given to them. This is the first thought suggested to us by the opening invocation of the sequence of the Mass. And now the sentiment of the sequence suddenly changes. Though we be so exalted by the Divine relationship, though the light of Heaven's glory is beaming upon our footsteps as we advance towards it, and our loosened tongues cry out with St. Paul, "O the depth of the riches of the wisdom and of the knowledge of God!" [Footnote 33] yet what is our human life now compared with the Heavenly Life in God! It is a blessed truth to me, some of us say, and a hope that I would not part with for life; but though inexhaustible riches, and crowns and harps of gold, are waiting for me in the kingdom of the Heavenly Father, here I am poor, here my heart is too sad to sing. [Footnote 33: Rom. xi. 33.] {112} Though there I shall possess wisdom, to which the wisdom of this world is foolishness, yet here I am ignorant. There shall be no want, I know; but here I am ever in want. I cry, Give, give, and my soul is never satisfied. There, in the light of glory, shall be peace, rest, and victory; but here is toil, strife, temptation, defeat, and my heart is oft darkened within me, even to forget my God. Hark what the Holy Church inspires you to say: "Veni, Sancte Spiritus, Veni, Pater pauperum, Veni, dator munerum, Veni, lumen cordium!" "Come, O Holy Spirit! Come, O Father of the poor! Come, O giver of every gift! Come, O light of every heart!" Are you poor? Repine not, for Jesus has said it is a blessed state. God loves you, and has given you poverty, that through it you may receive the Holy Ghost, the Comforter. Money is the riches of man, but the comforting grace of the Holy Ghost is the riches of God; and the poor may have that easily if they will. God has deprived you of the things of this world that you may set your heart on Him. Wonder not that thousands of Christians have left all, and vowed themselves to poverty, that they may get the grace of God easily, like you. {113} Ask for grace, then, poor man, and your requests shall be quickly granted. Cry with the Holy Church--__Veni, Pater pauperum!__ Come, O Father of the poor! and the Comforter will come, and pour out upon you a flood of graces that shall make your heart sing for joy. Then you will say with the Psalmist, enjoying nothing here below, "The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup; it is Thou who wilt restore my inheritance to me." [Footnote 34] [Footnote 34: Ps. xv. 5.] [USCCB: Ps. xvi. 5.] Are you in ignorance of what is best for you here and hereafter? Is it hard for you to think of God? Lift up your heart, and say--__Veni, Sancte Spiritus! Veni, dator munerum!__ Come, O Giver of every good and perfect gift!--and you shall receive the Comforter's gift of Divine Wisdom. Are you ignorant of the truths of faith, or do they seem difficult to you and beyond your grasp? Pray--__Veni, dator munerum__!--and the Comforter will bestow upon you the light of the gift of understanding. Are you ignorant of the ways of God's providence? Do you look around, and see the wicked prospering, the good suffering, the widow oppressed, and the orphan deserted, while wickedness and injustice are enthroned in high places, and are you tempted to doubt if God careth for His own? Pray with the Church--__Veni, dator munerum!__--and the Comforter will bring you His gift of knowledge. {114} Are you wayward in heart, now overzealous and now too lukewarm, oftentimes grieved and cast down at the ill-success of your undertakings or your prayers, and disappointment and disgrace make you feel as if you would almost give up trying to be good? Cry to the Giver of every good gift, and say--__Veni, Sancte Spiritus!__ and that Comforter will enlighten you with His gift of counsel. Are you hard-hearted, stubborn, and resentful, easy to take offence? Do the sins and offences of others destroy your peace of mind, and dry up within you the fountains of mercy and pity for sinners? Do you wish you could feel more like God, kind and long-suffering, and less like Satan, watching for the falls of others, and exulting over them? Oh! cry to the Holy Ghost, and that Comforter, the Spirit of perfect charity, will soften that dry heart of yours with the grace of His gift of piety. Are you timid and shamefaced in your service to God? Are you a victim to human respect? Are you a Christian who is ashamed of Christ, and do you draw back from a bold, consistent profession of your holy faith when the wicked scoff and sneer? Or, are you one who dares do great things for the God who has done so much for you? {115} Does your heart burn to offer Him a glorious and complete sacrifice, and yet you can not summon up the courage to accomplish it? Put up your supplication, and say--__Veni, Sancte Spiritus! Veni, dator munerum!__--and the Comforter, the Divine Strengthener, will come with His grace, and cover your weak soul with the armor of His gift of fortitude. Are you proud? Does the demon of intemperance, of anger, or of lust creep stealthily into your breast, and leave foul traces of his presence there? Is the majesty, the power, the holiness of that God to whom you belong forgotten? Do you tremble no more when you hear of justice, of chastity, and of the judgment to come? Pray, for your danger is great. Put up a strong and earnest cry, and say--__Veni, Sancte Spiritus! Veni, dator munerum!__--and the Comforter will be with you, bringing the help you need in your peril, with the grace of His gift of the fear of God. These seven good and perfect gifts it is the office of the Holy Ghost to impart to those who ask for them. We prize the simple gifts of friendship and affection which serve us in our daily life for our comfort or protection. Oh! that we but knew the gifts of God, the Holy Ghost, the Comforter. Friends bestow their gifts and depart, but the Almighty Friend abideth with His gifts for ever in the faithful soul. {116} The gifts of men wear out and tarnish, and the rust and moth corrupt them; but the gifts of God are as incorruptible and as unchangeable and as eternally bright and beautiful as His own divine, unchangeable life. The sequence now invokes the Holy Ghost as "the Light of every heart." The soul of the innocent child, of the pure-minded youth and maiden, of the upright man and pious matron, of the aged Christian, whose locks are whitened in the service of God, is bright with this heavenly Light; but even these know their hours of heaviness of spirit. "Though one may have rejoiced in many years," as says the Scripture, "he must remember the darksome time, and the many days, in which the passed things shall be accused of vanity." [Footnote 35] [Footnote 35: Eccles. xi. 8.] There are times to the merriest soul when the heart is dark. The hour of sorrow will come sooner or later--sorrow for earthly losses and disappointments, grief for the misspent years, anguish for our or others sins and misfortunes; the grave will open at our feet and rob us, the house will be hung in black, the mourners will go through the streets, the clods will fall upon the coffin, and we shall return to the home that has been despoiled, and cover our faces against the light of day, and sit in loneliness and gloom with our own darkened hearts. {117} Speak not to us now, nor smile upon us when our hearts are dark. Leave us alone. Alone with what? Alone with my own wretchedness and comfortless thoughts, says the unbeliever. Leave me alone, says the Christian, with my God. Yes, the Christian has his God to go to in his darkest hour. He has always abiding with him that other Comforter, the Light of every heart. Sinner! now contrite and sorry for the bitter past, who, weeping with the penitent Psalmist, say, "My heart hath expected reproach and misery. I looked for one that would grieve together with me, but there was none; and for one that would comfort me, but I found none" [Footnote 36]--you have a Comforter to go to. Raise your drooping head, and cry--__Veni, lumen cordium!__ Come, O Light of every contrite heart! and the seeds of the grace of contrition, which He has already planted in your soul, will spring up, and bear the sweetest fruits of peace and pardon. Go to thy God, and confess thy sins to Him, and when the Holy Ghost shall give thee the grace of absolution, thou shalt return lighter of footstep and comforted in spirit. [Footnote 36: Ps. lxviii. 21.] {118} Christian mourner and sufferer, I know that the brightest days are obscured by the clouds of sorrow which hang over your bereaved head, and the nights are oppressed with a thicker darkness than comes when the sun goes down; but a Light is shining ever in heaven, behind the dark clouds which hover over this world--the comforting Light of every sad heart. Call to Him--__Veni, Sancte Spiritus! Veni, lumen cordium!__--and though the tears cease not to flow, yet comfort will steal in upon you, and the spirit of holy resignation to that higher and better will in which you trust will descend, and abide with you for ever. While I am speaking, there is one, now lying in a poor, humble cabin, whom God has been pleased to afflict with a lingering illness, which must soon end in death. As she told me of the long, weary days and sleepless nights she spent, I said to her: "You must be very lonely." "Not so lonesome," she replied; "for, after all, God is not far away." On another occasion, I said: "This world is but short, my poor child; but, short as it is, it has pleased God to give you many dark days of suffering in it." "Ay, priest dear," she answered, "it is His blessed will, glory be to Him. But, then, when once I am on the bright side of the cloud, it is not much thinking of the dark side I'll be." {119} Oh! surely you, and all who invoke that Divine Comforter, will be ready to exclaim, in the words of the sacred song, "Consolator optime! Dulcis hospes animae, Dulce refrigerium!" O Thou of all consolers the Best! most welcome Guest of every soul! O sweet Refreshment to the weary heart! no labor for either earth or heaven tires when Thou art near. No burning heats dry up the welling springs of grace whilst overshadowed by Thy dove-like wings. No sorrow wrings the breast to which Thou canst not bring a solace, and wipe the tears away. "In labore requies, In aestu temperies, In fletu solatium!" In all that concerns our happiness, here and hereafter, there is the Holy Ghost, the giver of all happiness, the heavenly Comforter. Whichever way we turn, there is the God of love beforehand with us, waiting with His gifts of peace. Look at the Holy Church herself. Is she not our pride, our glory, our comfort? Why is she holy? Because the Holy Ghost dwells within her. If we have any comfort from the security and surety of our faith, it is because the Holy Ghost keeps that faith pure and unchangeably true. If we have any comfort in her words of wisdom, her good instructions, her guidance of our souls in a holy life, it is because the Holy Ghost keeps her pure in morals. {120} If we have any comfort in the Sacraments, those blessed means of grace, it is because the Holy Ghost is the life-giving power in them all. If we think a good thought, or speak a good word of prayer, of kindness or advice; if we do a good deed of mercy or of charity, it is because the Holy Ghost is the Inspirer of them all. Through His influence all conversions are made, whether of sinners or of unbelievers. He is the Infinite Goodness, the Source of all holiness, and there is nothing that is good but cometh from Him. Nay, more, my brethren. If God the Father was good to us in creating us, it was because of the love of the Holy Ghost. If God the Son was good to us in redeeming us and bringing us to salvation, it was because of the same Holy Spirit; and now He Himself, God the Holy Ghost, fills up the measure of His mercies, and God Himself can do no more. __O Lux beatissima!__ exclaims the Church. O most blessed Light! fill the depths of the hearts of Thy faithful. Break forth, Christian soul, into singing, and with rapture praise the Holy Ghost. Yes, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove! may we never cease to invoke Thee in our needs, and praise Thee for the comfort Thou dost bring us. The words of the Psalmist are upon our lips: "Oh! how Thou hast multiplied Thy mercies, O my God! The children of men shall put their trust under the covert of Thy wings. {121} They shall be inebriated with the plenty of Thy house; and Thou shalt make them drink of the torrent of Thy pleasure. For with Thee is the fount of life; and in Thy light"--O Lux beatissima!--"we shall see light." [Footnote 37] [Footnote 37: Ps. xxxv. 8-10.] --------------- {122} Sermon VIII. The Duty Of Upholding The Pope's Temporal Sovereignty. (Preached On The Feast of Pentecost, 1870, When A Collection Was Made For The Holy Father.) Zach. vi. 13. "__He shall bear the glory, and shall sit and rule upon his throne; and he shall be a Priest upon his throne__." We celebrate on this day the foundation of the Catholic Church. For it was on this day that the Holy Ghost came down on the Apostles to bestow those gifts of grace which make the Catholic Church a reality. This descent of the Holy Ghost was the fulfilment of prophecies made by the ancient prophets of the old law, who, under the figures of Sion and Jerusalem, have described the Holy Roman Church, and the universal Church under her obedience, diffused through out the world. In their inspired visions respecting the building of the second temple, among others, they have foretold the foundation, the extension, and the glory of this true and everlasting Church and kingdom of Christ upon the earth. {123} As, for instance, the prophet Zacharias, sent by God to build the walls of Jerusalem and the second temple, has foretold the institution of the sovereign pontificate of the Bishops of the Roman Church, the Vicars of Christ, who unite the priestly and the royal dignity in their persons, in the words of my text. "And thou shalt take gold and silver: and shalt make crowns, and thou shalt set them on the head of Jesus the son of Josedec the high-priest. And thou shalt speak to him, saying: BEHOLD A MAN, THE ORIENT IS HIS NAME: and under him shall he spring up, and shall build a temple to the Lord. Yea, he shall build a temple to the Lord; and he shall bear the glory, and shall sit and rule upon his throne; AND HE SHALL BE A PRIEST UPON HIS THRONE." This is the kingdom of Jesus Christ, called by the prophet THE ORIENT, which he exercises through his Vicars, the Roman Pontiffs, and which is a spiritual sovereignty, with a temporal sovereignty annexed, as is shown by the words, "a priest upon his throne," as well as by the emblem of the two crowns, one of gold and one of silver. The prophet also foretold that the new Jerusalem, the city of this priestly monarch, should be built of a size so great that it could not be enclosed by walls. "I will be to it a fire round about: and I will be the glory in the midst thereof. Jerusalem shall be inhabited without walls, by reason of the multitude of men." [Footnote 38] [Footnote 38: Zach. ii. 4.] [USCCB: Zechariah ii. 9.] {124} This is the Holy Roman Church, considered in its Catholic extension as the mother and mistress of churches in all parts of the world, which are bound together in one Holy Catholic Church by their obedience to the supremacy of the Roman Pontiff. The Holy, Catholic, Apostolic, Roman Church includes the whole vast number of the faithful in her fold in fact, and all mankind in right. No walls--that is, no bounds short of the limits of the earth--can be set to her rightful jurisdiction. And beyond this, the prophet teaches us that her strength does not consist in fortifications and bulwarks of stone, or, in other words, is not derived from any material resources, whereas it is spiritual in its origin and nature. God is a wall of fire round about her, and her glory in the midst of her. The Roman Church is made glorious by the gifts of the Holy Ghost, by spiritual might and force, by truth, grace, and sanctity. These same divine gifts and powers pervade the whole Catholic Church by virtue of communion with the See of the Vicar of Christ. The burning light of faith, the burning fire of charity, are concentrated within, and diffused all around the Catholic Church, constituting all her glory and all her power, and by these she illumines and inflames the whole world. {125} The Church is really and truly a kingdom, that is, a stable and perfect society, established upon a permanent constitution, with a hierarchy having power to make laws and exercise jurisdiction, and bound together in unity by a monarchical regimen. This kingdom is spiritual, because it is established for the spiritual and eternal welfare of men, and because it is founded on ideas and principles which belong to the supernatural order. That is, it is founded on faith in Divine revelation, in truths and doctrines made known by Divine inspiration, and on a right and authority conferred immediately by Jesus Christ, acting in his quality of Redeemer and Regenerator of mankind. Moreover, it is by supernatural and Divine grace, by Divine, life-giving sacraments, that men are constituted members of the Church and of the hierarchy. The Church overcomes the minds and hearts of men by truth and grace, by inward conviction and conversion, and thus, through both mind and heart, subdues them entirely to herself. She makes individuals and nations her subjects, by making them parts of the Church, and thus amenable to her laws. They are subject to her jurisdiction, as the spiritual kingdom of God, in everything which relates to doctrine, sacraments, and morals; and, therefore, in everything, even of the natural and temporal order, so far as it relates to religion and morality. {126} It is, therefore, necessary that the Church should be completely independent of all human authority, and supreme in her own sphere. Her rights, her property, and the persons of her hierarchy must be sacred and inviolable. She must have full and unrestricted liberty to exercise the powers and fulfil the mission committed to her by her Divine founder, without any interference of kings, rulers, or the people; of lawless individuals, or any usurping, tyrannical state. It is most necessary of all that the Supreme See and Sovereign Ruler of the Church--that is, the Roman Church and Pontiff--should possess this perfect liberty and independence. The Pope is the Vicar of Christ, the supreme judge of all questions of doctrine and morals. So far as the rights of religion are concerned, he is the judge of all sovereigns and states, and they owe him obedience. He is the judge, also, of the justice and morality of laws, whether national or international, and of all practical cases in which conscience and the divine or ecclesiastical law are concerned. For this reason, he ought not to be the subject of any temporal prince or state. And, in point of fact, Jesus Christ has given him the rights and privileges of a sovereign. {127} When tribute was exacted of our Lord, before paying it, He stated distinctly to his disciples that He Himself was above all human jurisdiction and law, and insinuated, in an equally unmistakable manner, that He designed to communicate this privilege to St. Peter. "And when they were come to Capharnaum, they that received the didrachmas came to Peter, and said to him: Doth not your Master pay the didrachma? He said: Yes. And when he was come into the house, Jesus prevented him, saying: What is thy opinion, Simon? Of whom do the kings of the earth take tribute or custom? of their children or of strangers? And he said: Of strangers. Jesus said to him: Then the children are free. But, that we may not scandalize them, go thou to the sea, and cast in a hook; and that fish which shall first come up, take: and when thou hast opened his mouth, thou shalt find a stater: take that, and give it to them for me and thee." [Footnote 39] [Footnote 39: St. Matt. xvii. 23-26.] [USCCB: St. Matt. xvii. 24-27.] The argument used by our Lord is very plain. The son of a king is exempt from tribute. "I am the Son of the King of kings, and, therefore, owe no tribute to the servants of My Father." But, if our Lord owed no tribute to any temporal ruler, He owed no kind of obedience or subjection. And as He paid tribute as a free act of condescension, in order to uphold the authority of kings, so, for the same reason, He respected that authority in other things. {128} His emblematic action in providing, miraculously, a coin for the tribute-money, which He ordered St. Peter to pay in the name of Christ and for himself also, insinuates in the most significant manner that St. Peter was to obtain from Him a like privilege with that which He possessed by natural right as the Son of God. Christ is a sovereign in His own native right. The Vicar of Christ is a sovereign by a delegated privilege. The obedience of Christ to temporal rulers and laws was not due by the obligation of a subject, but a mere voluntary conformity for the sake of the common good. So, also, the Vicars of Christ, independent of all temporal rulers and laws, should be bound to God alone, and not before men, to subject themselves to the authority of an earthly sovereign, only so far as times and circumstances might require them to do so for the well-being of the Church. For several centuries it was, in fact, necessary for the Popes to submit to the sovereignty of the Roman emperors, pagan and Christian. During this period they maintained their spiritual independence and supremacy chiefly by an incessant conflict with the imperial power--frequently ended only by their martyrdom. It was partially secured by the voluntary respect and obedience of the Christian emperors to the spiritual authority of the Vicar of Christ. But this was an imperfect state, suited only to the beginnings of the Church; and therefore the providence of God gave to the Popes the temporal sovereignty over Rome. {129} The personal sovereignty and independence of the Pope was given him by a divine right, and conferred on him immediately by Jesus Christ. This divine right did not, however, convey an immediate title to the possession of any temporal kingdom of subjects. It only gave the right to acquire such a kingdom by human right, and made this human right, once acquired, sacred and inviolable. The title of the Popes to the sovereignty of Rome is, therefore, in its origin human, and based on principles of human law and justice; but in regard to its inalienable, inviolable sacredness, it is of divine right. It is not essentially contained in that sovereignty which Christ gave to St. Peter and his successors, but it is its natural and necessary consequence. It is annexed to it for its maintenance and protection. Ever since the civilized nations became Christian, this sovereignty has been necessary, and it still continues, and must remain in future, necessary for the due exercise of the spiritual supremacy of the Roman Church and Pontiff. The sacredness and inviolability of the temporal sovereignty of the Pope over the Roman kingdom, and the necessity, under the present condition of things, of this sovereignty to the well-being of the Church, have been repeatedly and solemnly declared by the sovereign pontiffs and by the Catholic episcopate. {130} It is impossible for any true and loyal Catholic to think otherwise; and the events which have occurred and are now occurring make it clearly and plainly manifest that this judgment is just. God has given to the Roman Pontiff a temporal throne and kingdom, a country and a capital, that it might be a Christian Sion and Jerusalem, a holy and inviolable sanctuary, in which the Vicar of Christ can possess and exercise in sovereign freedom and independence all the rights of his spiritual supremacy over the universal Church. From what I have thus far said, which is the expression not of my opinion merely as an individual, but of the common belief of the whole body of sincere and faithful Catholics throughout the world, I draw the following evident conclusion: In that combat which the Holy Father has been so long waging, he has defended only what God has given him for the spiritual and eternal welfare of the human race. This determined and glorious conflict with unprincipled governments and the detestable horde of revolutionists for the defence of the temporal princedom of the Roman Pontiff, is a combat between infidelity and faith, hell and heaven, Satan and Jesus Christ. {131} The real and final aim of those who have conspired together to overthrow the temporal sovereignty of the Pope has been and is the subversion of his spiritual supremacy, and of the freedom and independence of the Catholic Church; the abolition of the kingdom of Christ upon the earth; and the emancipation of human society, together with all the individuals who compose it, from the law of God. It is true that many of those who have taken part in this conspiracy have not clearly foreseen or intended this final and inevitable tendency of their movement toward communism and atheism. But these are merely the purblind followers and accomplices, the servants and tools of more clear sighted and desperate leaders, who make use of them, and who despise them. All together are but the instruments and agents of one who is far more clear-sighted and more desperate than any of them, the great enemy of Jesus Christ, the original author of all rebellion, the apostate archangel, Lucifer. The Holy Father and his devoted adherents have been fighting for the principles of truth, justice, and morality, for the welfare of society, the laws of God, the cause of religion throughout the whole world. Rome is the sanctuary where these precious jewels are treasured. Those good, brave men who have died in defence of the Holy See have died as martyrs for the faith and law of Christ. All Catholics owe them reverence and gratitude, and ought to be stirred up by their glorious example to an equal zeal and loyalty in the sacred cause of God and the Pope. {132} All Christians have sworn allegiance to Jesus Christ as their King. The Pope is the Vicar of Jesus Christ, and, therefore, no Christian can pay allegiance to Jesus Christ without paying allegiance to the Pope. This allegiance is spiritual, but, by its very nature as a spiritual allegiance, it binds every Catholic to support and assist the Pope by all possible and lawful means to defend and preserve those temporal rights, which are necessary to him and to the Church, as the condition and the guarantee of the freedom and well-being of both. It is also the interest of all Catholics, as well as their duty, to stand bravely and loyally by the Pope in his struggle against the enemies of the Church and of religion. What is there so precious to the Christian as the faith, the holy and divine religion into which he has been baptized; the Church, which is his ark of safety; the adorable Sacrament of the Altar, which is the link between heaven and earth; the Communion of Saints, through which he remains still united to the faithful departed whom he once loved on earth; the hope of future glory and blessedness in the kingdom of God? Health, wealth, pleasure, honor, science, art, home, country, the whole wide world itself, are of no value in comparison. But the treasure which each one possesses in his religion he holds only by virtue of that charity which binds him to all other members of the Catholic Church, and to its Head. {133} Our interests are in common, and if any member, but especially the Head, be wounded, the whole body and all the other members must suffer with it. Each one has an interest in the well-being of the whole Church. We have an interest in the preservation of the sacred deposit of faith and grace in all nations; in the salvation of our neighbor, in the spiritual good of our posterity; in the prosperity of Christendom; in the conversion of the world; in the triumph of Jesus Christ; in the glory of God. All these are bound up in the cause of the Holy See, the Roman Church, the Sovereign Pontiff. It is only by the Catholic Church that mankind can be saved and that God can be glorified. Peter is the Rock on which this Church is built. The successors of Peter hold the golden keys by which hell is shut and heaven opened. The See of Peter is the centre of unity, light, life, and strength, for the whole Church throughout the world. It is against the Rock of Peter that the forces, proceeding from the gates of hell to make war on religion, morality, society, the spiritual and temporal well-being of the human race, direct their most fierce and obstinate assaults. The downfall of this citadel would cause the destruction of the kingdom of God on earth, and give the victory to Satan in his warfare against Christ. {134} "The gates of hell shall never prevail against it." God will preserve the Roman Church until the end of the world. But He will not do it altogether by miraculous and supernatural means, or by His own immediate intervention in human affairs. God ordinarily works through secondary causes, and by means of human agencies. He has established the civil princedom of the Roman Pontiff as the bulwark of his spiritual supremacy, and this bulwark must be defended by the loyalty and valor of all true Catholics against the assaults of the gates of hell. If faithless sovereigns and wicked conspirators despoil the Sovereign Pontiff of his lawful patrimony, rob the Roman Church of her possessions, and thus weaken and embarrass the functions of the supreme government of the Catholic Church, duty and interest alike require of the faithful to repair this injury, and to succor the distress of the Mother and Mistress of all churches by their generous and abundant contributions. This is the obligation of the poor and of the rich alike, though not in equal measures. Upon those who are relatively poor, by comparison with the wealthier class--that is, those who are dependent upon their own hard labor for a modest livelihood--it is not necessary to press this obligation in urgent terms. They make up the great body of the faithful, and by their zeal and charity it is in a great part that the enterprises of the Church are sustained. {135} To those of you, my dear brethren, who belong to this class, what I have said already will be enough--that is, to the greater part. For there are some who waste in the service of the devil what they can save from their earnings, and, therefore, have little or nothing left to give to God and the Church. Those who give themselves to excessive drinking--as some unhappily do, to their own shame and ruin and the scandal of religion--waste their hard-earned money in the service of the devil. So, also, those who give their money to unlawful societies, and to foolish, wicked enterprises, which are forbidden both by the laws of the Church and of the country, waste it in the devil's service. All such persons are bad subjects and rebels in the kingdom of God. Therefore, I exhort them to return to their fidelity and allegiance, to renounce the service of the devil, and to give a part of what they have devoted to his wicked works to the holy cause of God and the Church. Let those, also, who are led away by foolish vanity to spend more money than is suitable and right upon the decoration of their person, sacrifice those ornaments which are not in keeping with the modesty of their state in life, that they may have more to give to our Lord, and may merit more precious and lasting jewels, which will never lose their lustre. {136} Those who serve the meek and lowly Saviour of the world, who put on the form of a servant for our sakes, in humble labors and offices, are ennobled by their Christian charity. Imitate, therefore, the zeal, self-denial, and generous liberality of your forefathers and brethren in all ages and countries, who, out of their poverty, have made such great gifts to God and their fellow-men, and whose alms have swollen from small rills to such an abundant stream, fertilizing and blessing the earth. It will come back to you a hundredfold, especially when it is bestowed on the Vicar of Christ, who is, like his Divine Master, in a special sense the father of the poor. The obligations of the rich in respect to giving are far greater than those of the poor, but not generally so well fulfilled. The spirit of the Catholic religion ought to inspire them with a generous and lavish charity. The spirit of God is a princely spirit; and in the early and middle ages this princely spirit was manifested in a princely munificence. There are not wanting, in our own times, many signal instances of this same generous and noble magnanimity of Christian character in the great and wealthy. The present needs of the Holy See have called forth, in numbers of those who are noble or rich, a manifestation of that same piety, devotion, and liberality which has adorned the history of happier epochs, and given a purer lustre to so many illustrious names. {137} But our age is one of luxury and self-indulgence. The rich are exposed in an unusual degree to those temptations which have always made their state so dangerous. Therefore, they need special admonitions to administer well the goods entrusted to them by Almighty God, and beware of that excessive love of money, that pride, selfishness, and extravagance, which are so contrary to the spirit of Christianity. They need to be stirred up to give in proportion to their wealth to the sacred cause of God, and not to stint themselves to the small measure which, for the poor, is generous and honorable, but which for them is niggardly and disgraceful. To the rich, therefore, I say that they should imitate the example of those holy and noble persons who have consecrated their wealth to God. You serve an exacting Master. You are placed in a position which is beset with responsibility and danger. It is a responsible position, because of the great and important duties and obligations which are annexed to it; dangerous, because of its great difficulties and temptations. Those who are favored and elevated above their fellows by Divine Providence, have not received these blessings in order that they may make a display of themselves or indulge their passions, but in order that they may glorify God and do good to their fellow-men. {138} If they wish to be safe in the midst of the allurements and seductions of this world, to derive real and lasting advantage from their wealth, and to save their souls, they must consecrate their riches to the service of God. There is but one end for which one can live in this world which is worthy of a Christian--the exaltation of the kingdom of Jesus Christ. Princes, nobles, men of power and influence through their talents, learning, station, or wealth, if they do not devote themselves heart and soul to the advancement and extension of the Catholic Faith and the Catholic Church, are recreant to their trust. It is this treason of the great and rich in Catholic nations to the sacred cause of Christ and His Church which is the chief cause of irreligion and vice among the people, of rebellion and revolution, political and social disorder, and which threatens to produce convulsions still more extensive and terrible, in which the privileged classes will become the victims of a conflagration which their own folly and wickedness have kindled. The throne of the Roman Pontiff is the keystone of the arch of political and social order, public peace and prosperity, civilization and good government. Those who have the greatest stake involved in the social commonwealth have the greatest interest in maintaining the rights of that august and sacred throne. {139} It is a disgrace to Christendom that the Sovereign Pontiff of the Catholic Church should be left to struggle almost alone and single-handed with enemies who have plotted the overthrow of the Holy See and of religion. It is shameful that he should be left to bear the burden of debts and embarrassments which have been created by those who have unjustly invaded and despoiled the patrimony of the Church. The majestic figure and attitude of Pius IX. is a condemnation of the nations of Christendom in this nineteenth century before the tribunal of conscience and of Almighty God. Only those can free themselves from this condemnation who are found on his side, sustaining his cause by word and deed, proving their loyalty to Christ and His Vicar by their open renunciation of all sympathy and complicity with the enemies of the Holy See, and by their zealous and active support of the spiritual supremacy and temporal princedom of the Roman Pontiff. By the grace of God, my dear brethren, we will not incur that condemnation. We are true and faithful members of that Holy Catholic Church which was founded on the day of Pentecost. Although remote in the distance of space from the See of Peter, the Holy Roman Church, we acknowledge with pride and joy that the Mother and Mistress of Churches is the Mother and Mistress of the Church of this Western world. {140} We are the loyal and devoted children of our Holy Father, Pius IX. His rights we will sustain while life shall last. Our prayers shall never cease to ascend to heaven for his success and triumph; our generous contributions to his temporal necessities shall never fail him. We rely on the unfailing word and almighty power of our Lord Jesus Christ to give victory and triumph to the cause of His crowned and anointed Vicar and of His Holy Church; and we will, therefore, do our duty zealously and faithfully to promote that victory, that we may share in its glory and reward. --------------------- {141} The Sermon IX. The Living God. (For Trinity Sunday.) Jer. x. 10. "__The Lord is the true God: He is the living God__." To-day the Church makes a solemn profession of faith in the mystery of the Holy and Undivided Trinity. It is true this is a profound, inscrutable mystery, which we could never have discovered, and which, even now that it is revealed, we cannot fully grasp with our reason; but it is not so absolutely impenetrable that we may not reason about it in so far as to see a fitness in it, and to recognize its truth and conclude its necessity from its perfect harmony with the other mysteries of the Christian faith. We can see how the whole system of religion, which shows us God as the Creator of the universe, and the Redeemer and glorifier of the human race, finds its fittest sanction and most reasonable explanation in its truth; while the rejection of it would leave the mind oppressed and bewildered with a thousand difficulties impossible of solution, and of such a nature as to lead us to abandon the belief in God as a living personal Being, and seek for their explanation in some theory of Pantheism or Polytheism, the first of which denies the personality, and the second the unity, of God. {142} If I needed an apology for endeavoring to show the reasonableness of this doctrine, it would be that in our day it is famentably true that the great body of so-called Christians, who have cast off the primary authority of revealed truth, and set up the destructive theory of private judgment in its stead, are fast losing their faith in this necessary truth of Christianity, and falling away into Rationalism and Infidelity. It becomes the Christian preacher, therefore, to raise his voice in defence of this fundamental doctrine of Christianity. Christianity is true only because the Trinity is true. Abandon that, and belief in Christ the incarnate Son of God is impossible. Let us consider, then, with all due reverence, the mystery of the being of God, and express the reasons which our own mind can present to confirm the faith of the Christian, when, signing himself with the sign of Christ, he adds the solemn declaration of his belief in God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. {143} First of all, it is proper to state distinctly what the doctrine of the Trinity is. We believe that there is one infinite, eternal Being, whose nature is in no way divided, nor can be conceived of as partly one thing, and partly another thing. We believe that God, though one in being, is a Trinity in person. This Trinity of person in God does not separate His being into parts any more than His attributes, such as His wisdom or His justice, could divide Him, making His wisdom or justice one thing, and Himself another thing, which is not wisdom or justice. It is God who is both wise and just, and His wisdom and justice have no existence but in Him. So it is God, one Being, who is Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and these three Persons, taken together, or one by one, are not something else besides the being of God, but they, each and all, are God. God __is__ the Trinity. So that the Father cannot regard the Son, or the Holy Ghost, as some other being--some other God, because the Son and the Holy Ghost are the same God as the Father is. In being God is not three, but one. Nor does the fact of there being three Persons add anything to the being of God, or lessen the absolute perfection of His unity, by introducing an element of division: on the contrary, we shall see that a perfect being must exist in three persons, and a being with only one person, such as we are, is necessarily an imperfect being. {144} And when we say that the three Persons are distinct one from the other, so that the Father is not the Son, nor the Son the Holy Ghost, that again in no manner can affect the unity of the Divine Being, which in all three is identically the same. God, whose being is one, lives in three persons, and we can address ourselves to any one of the three separately, to God living as the Father, to God living as the Son, or to God living as the Holy Ghost; but the Being who __lives__, either as Father, or as Son, or as Holy Ghost, is One, and cannot be addressed in any manner as if He was double or triple. This very reasonable distinction between a being and the person of that being seems to be something which many wise and learned men appear either unable or unwilling to understand. The being of God lives. He is the living God, and the three persons are His life. Not that God has three different lives; that as Father he has one life, and as the Son a second life, and as the Holy Ghost a third life. There is but one life in God, and it is the three persons that live that life. This appears to me to be the most reasonable explanation of the Trinity which our minds are capable of conceiving, and I will develop this thought in a few words. {145} God is a __living__ being. Let us ask ourselves whence does God receive the life of His Divine Being? Who is the author of His life? Plainly, from no one but from Himself. He is the first, and only, and complete cause of His own life. There was nothing before Him from which He drew His infinite being, nor upon whose prior existence He depends for life. There is nothing now that can sustain Him or support His life, neither can there be anything after Him. He is the eternally living God. He is, then, the eternal cause of His own life. What is He as cause, and what is this divine life of His being which is the effect of that cause? As cause, He is the Father, the Parent, the Progenitor, the Producer, the Begetter of His own life. And that life, which is begotten in Himself, is the Son. He is the eternally living God, and hence the Son is eternally begotten of the Father. The Person of God who begets His own life is the Father. The Person who is the Life begotten is the Son; and is a Person, because it is God who says by the mouth of the Son--I am the Life begotten. Both the Father and the Son are equal, because it is the same Divine Being who is both Father and Son, as we profess in the Creed--"__consubstantial with the Father__." Both are eternal. The Father does not exist before the Son, because it is the same Divine Being which is the life as Son, as well as Giver of life as the Father. God is the Father, because He begets a Son--His Life. {146} God is the Son, because He is the Life begotten of the Father--the Divine Progenitor of the Life of the Eternal Godhead. God is the eternally living God. He lives the life which He gives Himself. His life is infinitely perfect, infinitely lovely, infinitely good. He enjoys the life He has. We possess life, not like the life of God, it is true, because it is limited in duration, imperfect in action, subject to change, and incapable of absolute happiness; but, such as it is, we live it, we enjoy it. The enjoyment or living of our life proceeds from two sources. First, from the cause of our life--from that which makes us live; and, secondly, from the life we possess. And we say--I enjoy my own life. But, mark it, we cannot say as the Father can say--I give myself life; nor as the Son of God can say--I am the life. We can only say--I enjoy the life which is given to me. Hence we are only one person--the person living, enjoying the life which is not from ourselves, but from God. So God enjoys with an infinite beatitude His own life. It is the Person of the Holy Ghost. He says not--I give myself life. It is the Person of the Father which says that. He does not say--I am the life. It is the Person of the Son who says that. But he says--I am God, living My life; I am God, enjoying My life. {147} Yet it must be kept in mind that all this is one simultaneous act in God: the eternal giving of life to Himself; the life itself eternally springing into being, and the eternal enjoyment or fruition of life. These are not separate acts, but one, single, inseparable act of the Triune God. The Being which acts is God, and God is not one or two of the Trinity, but the Trinity itself. The principle of the act is attributed to the Person; the act itself to the God head. Hence, again, the Son does not live a different life from the Father, or the Holy Ghost a different life from the other two Persons, but the life they live is all one. To the Holy Ghost is attributed the living or enjoyment of life, as we attribute the living of our own life to our own person; and, therefore, our person is, in a remarkable manner, an image of the Holy Ghost. We speak of our __spirit__ as living, rejoicing, etc., and when we die or yield up the living of our life, we say--We give up the ghost. In Me, says the Holy Ghost, are all possible perfections; I rejoice in them. My life is all good, wherefore I love Myself with infinite love. My life is all beautiful, wherefore I admire it, and am well pleased, and take an infinite delight in it. My life is all holy. I am the supreme object of My own adoration. My life is all true, wherefore I contemplate all truth with unspeakable bliss. In My life is no conflict, no change, no anxiety, doubt, or sorrow, wherefore I am in eternal peace. {148} My life is all that is or can be, wherefore I seek not for My happiness outside of My own happy being. Such I am, and such I live, the Holy Ghost, who proceed from the Father and the Son, who, together with the Father and the Son, am adored and glorified, the great I AM, the Ancient of Days, Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End, who was, and who is, and who is to come, the Almighty, Good, Wise, Just, and True, the eternal, living God. Dear brethren, such thoughts, I know, are bewildering, and leave our poor human intellects stupefied in presence of that Majesty, the simplest idea of whom is beyond all power of expression. But we know that God is, and that we know Him, great as He is, incomprehensible as He is, so far transcending all grasp of our feeble minds; yet even in His mysterious Being He is no stranger to us. The doctrine of the Trinity of Persons in God is wonderful, but it is not a strange doctrine. It is a truth full of light and consolation. It is a revelation of Him, who is all in all, that draws us, if I may say so, nearer to Him. Starting with this view of Him, enlightened with this truth, all that He has done for us in the world of nature and of grace, becomes clear, plain, reasonable, and consequent. All the other mysterious truths of Christianity, as I have said before, suppose the truth of this, and, indeed, would be unmeaning without it. The consideration of one or two of these will confirm the view I have taken of it. {149} Look at creation. This is fully as incomprehensible to our minds as the mystery of the Trinity itself. But without a revelation of the Trinity, it would be more difficult of belief, further away from our grasp, baffling more utterly all our attempts to form a reasonable conception of it. What is it? It is that God, who is all that is or can be, yet can create and has created something which is not God. It looks like a contradiction. Those who have rejected the Trinity and yet believe in God so regard it, and are led to imagine that the created universe and all that is in it and of it is Divine. We read that, when God created man, He said, "Let us make man to our image and likeness." [Footnote 40] [Footnote 40: Genesis i. 26] The creature is, then, an image of the Creator. Creation is not God, but is an image of God; that is, the being and life of creatures, analogous to the being and life of God, is not of themselves, but is a reflected image of God, which we may compare to the reflected image of ourselves in a mirror. The image we behold is not our own being, but an imperfect likeness of it. So the creation which God beholds imaged in His own Divine mind is not His own Divine being, but an imperfect likeness of it. {150} And now it is not the image of an abstract being--of an ideal being--but of a living being. The living God is the Trinity, as I have shown. The mystery of creation is illuminated by this truth, as you will see. We say in the Creed, "I believe in God the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth." He is the Personal Cause, the Progenitor of all creation. Yet we also say, with St. John: "The Word was God. All things were made by Him: and without Him was nothing made that was made." [Footnote 41] And with holy Job: "The Spirit of the Lord made me, and the breath of the Almighty gave me life." [Footnote 42] And again, with the Psalmist: "Thou shalt send forth Thy Spirit, and they shall be created: and Thou shalt renew the face of the earth." [Footnote 43] [Footnote 41: St. John i. 1-3.] [Footnote 42: Job xxxiii. 4.] [Footnote 43: Ps. ciii. 30.] [USCCB: Ps. civ. 30.] We speak of creation, then, either as of the Father, of the Son, or of the Holy Ghost, because it is of the Trinity--one act of the Godhead. But we attribute creation properly to the Father, because He is the Infinite Personal Cause. We attribute it to the Son, because He is the Infinite Personal Life. "In him was the life," says St. John, in the next sentence after that in which he says all things were created by the Word, "and," he adds, "the life was the light of men." {151} So chant we in the Credo: __Lumen de lumine__--Light of light. It is the first word spoken by God at the creation--"__Fiat lux!__" Admirable conception! Light is, as it were, the Creator of the image reflected in a mirror, and the Divine Word is the light--the Creator of the creature who is the image and likeness of God. St. Paul calls our Lord, who is Man united to the Word, "the image of the invisible God, the first-born of every creature. In Him were all things created in heaven, and on earth, visible, and invisible, whether thrones, or dominations, or principalities, or powers: all things were created by Him and in Him: and He is before all, and by Him all things consist." [Footnote 44] Because our Lord was the Word of God, the same thing is declared of Him, as the Eternal Wisdom, by the inspired prophet: "I came out of the mouth of the Most High, the first-born before all creatures." [Footnote 45] The creative act is, then, an image of the Son of God being divinely begotten by the Father; and creation in existence is an image of Him who truly said, "I am the Life." [Footnote 44: Coloss. i. 15-17.] [Footnote 45: Ecclus. xxiv. 5.] [USCCB: Sirach xxiv. 3.] We attribute the creation to the Holy Ghost when we say in the Creed, "And I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Life-giver." {152} Recall what I said about the Holy Ghost, that He is God living, enjoying His Divine life. Creation is the image of God living, and hence of the Holy Ghost. When man was created, the Sacred Record says, "God breathed the breath [or spirit] of life into his face, and man became a living soul." With man, everything lives and enjoys its being with an enjoyment which is a reflection of the supreme living beatitude in God. Thus exclaims the writer of the Book of Wisdom: "The Spirit of the Lord hath filled the whole earth: and that, which containeth all things, hath knowledge of the voice." [Footnote 46] [Footnote 46: Wisdom i. 7.] It is the Holy Ghost, the Spirit of God, the Lord and Life-giver, who, as holy Job declares, "hath adorned the heavens" with their radiant beauty, who hath filled the whole earth, and vivified it, so that it is not a dead but a living image of the Eternal, Omnipotent, Living God. Did I not say well, my brethren, that the mystery of the Holy Trinity is an illumination of the mystery of creation? Look, again, at the Mystery of the Incarnation, in which are included the other Mysteries of the Regeneration and Redemption of man. We can not understand its manner. We cannot see how it is, any more than we can understand how the Son is begotten of the Father, or how the Holy Ghost proceeds from them both. {153} But the Trinity illuminates that also, and enlightens us to see and believe it, now that it is revealed to us. Like Creation, it is an act of the Trinity, because it is God uniting His Divine Person of the Son to humanity, His created image. This is why our Lord, as Man as well as God, calls Himself the Son of God. This is why the Apostle calls us, who are His brethren in the flesh, sons of God. It is the act of God as the Father. "God so loved the world, as to give his only-begotten Son." [Footnote 47] It is an act of God as the Son. In His last discourse, Jesus says to His disciples: "I came forth from the Father, and am come into the world: again I leave the world, and go to the Father." [Footnote 48] It is an act of the Holy Ghost. As we say in the Creed, and as the Scripture testifies, "He was conceived by the Holy Ghost." [Footnote 47: S. John iii. 16.] [Footnote 48: __Ibid__. xvi. 23.] [USCCB: John xvi. 28.] The mystery of the Trinity thus enables us to recognize the Divinity of the Person of Jesus Christ, as also the sublime character and object of His Incarnation. It reveals to us the true destiny of man, and shows us how the very reason of creation is in God Himself, and is to find its end, its accomplishment and fruition in God. For, as you see, the Incarnation was an act, of which the Person of God Himself was the object. {154} It was God communicating His Divine Life to the creature, and thus all creatures, through Jesus, who is the First-Born of them all, are to find their destiny, the end of their creation, in eternal union with the Divine Life. "I am the Life," said our Lord, and "because I live, you shall live." [Footnote 49] He and the Father are one. But, O wonderful revelation! "In that day you shall know that I am in My Father, and you in Me, and I in you." [Footnote 50] [Footnote 49: St. John xiv. 6 and 19.] [Footnote 50: __Ibid__. 20.] "God hath sent His only-begotten Son into the world," says St. John, "that we may live by Him." [Footnote 51] "Ye are the temples of the living God," [Footnote 52] exclaims St. Paul. "We are made partakers of the Divine nature," [Footnote 53] says St. Peter. And St. Paul again designates us, first, as the "partakers of Christ," [Footnote 54] and next as the "partakers of the Holy Ghost." [Footnote 55] [Footnote 51: Ep. St. John iv. 9.] [Footnote 52: 2 Cor. vi. 16.] [Footnote 53: 2 Ep. St. Peter i. 4.] [Footnote 54: Heb. iii. 14.] [Footnote 55: Heb. vi. 4.] Once more, our Lord bids us fear not the apparent annihilation of death. "I am the Resurrection and the Life. He that believeth in Me, though he be dead, shall live. And every one that liveth, and believeth in Me, shall not die for ever." [Footnote 56] [Footnote 56: St. John xi., 25, 26.] {155} How clear, how consistent is every word! As we contemplate the truth of the Incarnation in the light of the revealed Trinity, our faith must grow stronger, and the hopes and aspirations of our hearts be confirmed, and our love wax the deeper; for this brighter view of God must draw us nearer to Him by sight and by love. We, too, burn to answer our Lord as did Martha, when He asked her if she believed His words: "Yea, Lord, I have believed that Thou art Christ the Son of the Living God, who art come into this world." [Footnote 57] [Footnote 57: St. John xi. 27.] We set out, my dear brethren, to look at the reasons which Christian philosophy is able to show us of the reasonableness of the mysterious doctrine, of which we make acts of profession oftener, perhaps, than of any other, for we do it every time we make the sign of the Cross; and in honor of which we are to-day keeping solemn festival. We have been talking and thinking like philosophers on this deep mystery, and to us might be very properly addressed that pertinent remark of Thomas à Kempis: "What doth it avail thee to discourse profoundly of the Trinity, if thou be wanting in humility, and, consequently, displeasing to the Trinity? If thou didst know the whole Bible by heart, and the sayings of all the philosophers, what would it all profit thee, without the love of God and His grace?" [Footnote 58] [Footnote 58: __Imit. Christi__, book i. ch. I.] {156} Truly, a question of no little import to us all. Today the Church brings us, as it were, face to face with the awful Majesty of the Ever-Blessed Trinity, the Living God. It is a fearful thought to be in that Presence, for it must compel us to ask ourselves--Are we indeed the image and likeness of the Living God? And not only that, but are we, as we should be, __living images of Him?__ Are our souls living in His Divine grace, or are they standing before Him to-day dead in sin? To be wise in the knowledge of the Blessed Trinity is well, but to love Him is better. To be ignorant of the Blessed Trinity is a misfortune; but to sin against Him in whom we live, and move, and have our being is a crime against the Life of God. Wonder not that to lose God is to lose eternal life, and fall into hell, the eternal death. To sin is, in the language of St. Paul, to "trample under foot the Son of God, and offer an affront to the Spirit of Grace." [Footnote 59] Filled with horror at the thought of this crime against the Holy Trinity, he exclaims: "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the Living God." [Footnote 60] [Footnote 59: Heb. x. 29.] [Footnote 60: Heb. x. 31.] Therefore, brethren, let us adore with profound humility the Ever-Blessed Trinity, full of gratitude that He has vouchsafed this revelation of His mysterious Being to us, and thus enlightened our minds that we may know Him, and love Him, and serve Him better. {157} But let us so live, as children of the Heavenly Father, as brethren of Jesus Christ our Lord, and as sanctified temples of the Holy Ghost, that, when the veil of this life be rent in twain, and we shall stand face to face in eternity before the glorious majesty of God, and in presence of the glittering hosts of angels who surround His throne, we may be able to present the record of a life which has truly been an image and likeness of the Life of the Living God--the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; to whom be glory now and for ever throughout eternal ages. Amen. ----------------------- {158} Sermon X The Real Presence. (For The Feast Of Corpus Christi.) St. Matt. i. 23. "__They shall call His name Emmanuel, which, being interpreted, is God with us__." We conclude the seasons of Easter and Pentecost with the Feast of the Blessed Trinity, following in thought our ascended Jesus up to the right hand of His eternal Father. From Christmas to Ascension we commemorate the mission (as it is called) of the Second Person of the Trinity: how the Father sent the Son to become Incarnate, to accomplish our redemption, and found the Church. At Pentecost we celebrate the mission of the Third Person: how the Father and the Son together sent the Holy Ghost, to become incorporate in the Church, and abide with and in it through all time. Then, on Trinity Sunday, the Church, in her turn, bids us remember that, although the Son and the Holy Ghost were sent down to earth, yet they never left heaven; where they had dwelt from eternity, and will dwell to eternity, consubstantial and coequal with the Father. {159} But the Church is the kingdom of the Incarnation; and the Incarnation is God made visible. Therefore, as a true spouse, living only for her Beloved, she does not leave us contemplating the invisible God, but quickly sets before us the Incarnation again--the end of her yearly song no less than its beginning. For the feast of Corpus Christi is to Christmas as the end to the beginning of a chain of mysteries which centre in the Incarnation. It is, indeed, a sort of second Christmas--the sacramental life of our Lord bearing striking resemblance to His helpless infancy. Again, lest we should forget that our ascended Lord left behind Him the very body He carried into heaven, the Church does not let us stand gazing up after Him with the group on Olivet, but invites us to turn and rejoice with her in the mystery of His perpetual presence here below--a presence not the less real because supersensible, nor the less consoling because veiled. I shall speak, then, of the Blessed Sacrament, first, as a reality; and, secondly, as a consolation. {160} First, as a reality. You are aware, my dear brethren, that no article of our faith excites so much the wonder of those who are not Catholics as the doctrine of the Real Presence. They are forced to acknowledge, too, that we actually do believe in it, and take it as a matter of course. Their wonderment is natural enough: for they judge of it only by the senses; and certainly we cannot conceive of any mode in which it would have more apparent __un__reality. If, however, they believe that the Christ who was born in a stable, lived in obscurity for thirty years, was rejected by the Jews as "the carpenter's son," and, at last, died a felon's death, was God, they must allow that the Godhead in Him had very much apparent unreality, and that its surprising concealment can only be accounted for by design. Again, if they are familiar with the Bible, they know that in several passages a certain adorable secrecy and shyness are ascribed to God as characteristic of Him. As, for instance, in the Psalms we are told that He "makes darkness His hiding-place." [Footnote 61] In Job it is asked, "Peradventure thou wilt comprehend the steps of God, and find out the Almighty perfectly? He is higher than heaven, and what wilt thou do? He is deeper than hell, and how wilt thou know?" [Footnote 62] while Isaias breaks out with the exclamation: "Truly Thou art a hidden God, Thou God of Israel, the Saviour!" [Footnote 63] [Footnote 61: Ps. xvii. 12.] [USCCB: Ps. xviii. 12.] [Footnote 62: Job xi. 7.] [Footnote 63: Is. xlv. 15.] {161} As far, then, as the hiddenness of the Real Presence goes, it ought rather to commend our doctrine than otherwise, and create a presumption in its favor. But the radical difficulty with the stranger to the truth lies in his not understanding the Incarnation and its object. It is nothing to him, I may say. He professes belief in it, indeed, but has utterly "lost its meaning" (as dear Father Faber says). Let him once begin to realize the Incarnation, and he will find he is taking the road to Rome: he will find that there is such a thing as a visible Church, and such a person as the Mother of God. To the Catholic, on the contrary, the Incarnation is everything. It is the fount of the whole system to which he glories in adhering. The Church exists for nothing else. The world exists for nothing else. The world for the Church, the Church for Christ, and Christ for God. Now, the object of the Incarnation was briefly this: The establishment of a visible kingdom, in which the Creator should receive an adequate worship from the creature, and the creature be raised to the highest possible union with the Creator. We say, then, that the Church is this visible kingdom--to wit, an organic body, of which we are made members by Baptism (an outward and visible rite); and that the twofold end of worship and union is accomplished by the perpetual presence of the Incarnation here on earth, as at once a sacrifice and a sacrament. {162} A sacrifice in which the creature offers to God a divine victim--the only adequate worship He can receive, God being offered to God--and in a created nature. A sacrament, in which the assumed humanity in Christ, hypostatically united with the divinity, is made to blend with our humanity in a union so close as to render us, in turn, "partakers of the divine nature." [Footnote 64] Moreover, we say that the form of food, in which our Lord chose to impart to us His deified and deifying humanity, was (so to speak) the most natural form He could have chosen: since food becomes one substance with its recipient--the difference between ordinary food and this divine food being that the latter, instead of being changed into us, transforms us into itself. [Footnote 64: 2 St. Peter i. 4.] Therefore, to us, who, by the grace of faith, understand the Incarnation and its object, the doctrine of the Real Presence is simply the supplement to the doctrine of the Incarnation. The one is the consequence of the other. We behold in the Church, with the Blessed Sacrament on her altars, the mystical Mary with the Divine Babe on her lap: and when we kneel to her, that she may give Him to us, or bless us with Him, we have no more feeling of unreality than the Shepherds and the Magi had in the cave at Bethlehem. {163} The feast of Corpus Christi, then, my brethren, is one of a blessed __reality__: a reality which ought to make us thank God every day of our lives that we are Catholics. For can anything be more dismal, more barren, more pointless, than a Christianity in which the Blessed Sacrament and the Blessed Virgin have no place? But, secondly, it is a feast of peculiar consolation. It is this which most endears the Blessed Sacrament to us. For as long as we are in exile from our true fatherland--the "patria" of the __O Salutaris__--we shall always be wanting consolation, and prize it as a foretaste of our rest. This consolation, then, this foretaste, is abundantly vouchsafed to us in the Blessed Sacrament. And, first, as regards our Lord Himself. It is impossible to love Him without sorrowing for all He once suffered; without grieving at the thought of the world's sins, and our own share of them, which drenched His soul with anguish, and steeped His heart in woe. And what pains us most is the melancholy fact that His love was thrown away on the majority of mankind, and is so at this hour. It is, therefore, indeed a consolation that now He dwells on earth without the condition of suffering--impassible for evermore; that, at last, He "comes unto His own, and His own __do__ receive Him"; that He is enthroned King of His elect in the kingdom He so dearly purchased; that He can now take unmixed "delight" in "being with the children of men"; that if His Sacramental Presence is still to the heretic "a stumbling-block," and to the sceptic "foolishness," yet to millions upon millions, who believe and love, it is "the power of God and the wisdom of God"; and, further, that whatever degeneracy may come upon Christ's kingdom, however widely the "love of many may wax cold," yet, even in the worst times, "those whom the Father hath given Him" will unfailingly confess Him their "Emmanuel." {164} Again, the Blessed Sacrament is full of consolation as regards ourselves. In the first place, because it is our Emmanuel--God tabernacled with men; and because the veiled Presence here is an earnest of the unveiled hereafter. Also, because it is an abiding "propitiation for our sins," and the perpetual oblation of infinite merit to obtain us all good things. Again, it is the food in the strength of which we travel, like Elias, through the wilderness of this world "unto the mount of God": [Footnote 65] the medicine of our spiritual diseases, the balm of our sorrows, and, sweetest thought of all, perhaps, our viaticum in death. [Footnote 65: 3 Kings xix. 8.] [USCCB: 1 Kings xix. 8.] {165} If God could thus address His people of old, how much more meaning have His words for __us__: "Fear not, for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name: thou art mine. When thou shalt pass through the waters, I will be with thee, and the rivers shall not cover thee; ... for I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour." [Footnote 66] [Footnote 66: Is. xliii. 1-3] But especially ought we to take comfort in the Blessed Sacrament in times of trial for the Church, such as that which is on us now. You remember how the ship of Peter was tossed one day on the lake of Galilee, and the disciples got terrified and awoke their Master, who was asleep on a pillow. [Footnote 67] [Footnote 67: St. Mark iv. 36-38.] And He rebuked them for their want of faith; because, let wind and sea rage as they might, could that vessel have perished with the Lord of the elements on board, though He __was__ "asleep on a pillow"? Now, that ship is a striking figure of the Church, with the Blessed Sacrament reposing on her altars. She has ridden out many a heavy gale as yet, and no matter how many more are in store for her, weather them she __must__ while she carries the Almighty Saviour. Instead of losing heart, then, our aspiration should be that of the sacred poet: "Amid the howling wintry sea, We are in port if we have Thee." {166} And even if there should come a time, as many think, when "the daily sacrifice shall be taken away," when it shall be death to say Mass or to hear it, and the Church has to "fly into the wilderness"--if the final persecution thus exceed even those of the Cæsars, yet Mass __will__ be said and Communion __will__ be given; and still, at the words of the priest, "even as the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth unto the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man" to His altar; and still, "wheresoever the Body shall be, there will the eagles be gathered together." [Footnote 68] [Footnote 68: St. Matt. xxiv. 27, 28.] In conclusion, my dear brethren, let me remind you how apt we are--we who are so favored with the faith--to neglect the Blessed Sacrament, to be irreverent in its presence, to show it ingratitude by receiving it too seldom, and to betray our forgetfulness of its presence by never coming to visit it. I would dwell a little on this last point. When we meet with misfortune or trouble of any kind, we often brood over it at home, and get impatient and fretful, and make mischief in consequence to others as well as to ourselves, instead of coming to tell the Sacred Heart all about it, and draw on an ever-ready help. So, again, we are constantly complaining how cold the world is, what a want there is of sympathy, how selfish and thankless people are. {167} And what are we but cold and unsympathizing, selfish and thankless, toward our best Friend? He is here "love's prisoner"--__our__ prisoner; and how few of us take any notice of Him as such! Were an earthly dear one in prison for our sake, we should move heaven and earth to get to him. But here is the Lover of all lovers, the infinite beauty, accessible all day long, and how many come to visit Him of those who are __not__ reasonably prevented? I wonder that more of us are not haunted by those words, "I was in prison, and ye visited Me not." [Footnote 69] [Footnote 69: St. Matt. xxv. 43.] Let us endeavor, then, my brethren, to realize more the treasure we possess in our Emmanuel, our __Gesù Sacramentato__ (Sacramented Jesus), our __Dios Sagramentado__ (Sacramented God), as the happy Italian and Spanish languages can word it. If we could only accustom ourselves to think a little more of the Blessed Sacrament, it would soon have a perceptible influence on our lives, on our domestic relations, on our intercourse with society, on our dealings with the world of business. And this influence would be anything but oppressive, as some of you may think. It would exercise a wholesome restraint, indeed, for which we should often be deeply thankful afterwards, but would give us a true cheerfulness and an abiding sense of calm. Oh! that all our words and actions might harmonize in one ceaseless chorus of praise-- {168} "Blessed and praised every moment Be the most holy and most divine Sacrament!" --------------------- {169} Sermon XI. St. Paul, The Divine Orator. (For The Patronal Festival.) 2 Cor. xii. 9. "__Gladly, therefore, will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me.__" The Church and the world are agreed in the estimate formed of St. Paul as a preacher. By a common judgment, the name of this great apostle has been inscribed at the head of the illustrious list of teachers of doctrine. His renown increases as time goes on, and in our own day his personal character, life, and writings have been made the subject of an extraordinary amount of discussion, and have elicited newer and higher eulogiums. There is this difference, however, in the judgments formed by the Church and the world of the prince of Christian preachers. The world's panegyric is illogical, being made in direct contradiction to its principles and the lessons which it has ever inculcated as necessary to an orator's success. {170} The Church alone, by the aid of the supernatural principles of faith, is able to explain the true secret of the wonderful power he wielded in life, and the miraculous influence of his words upon the nations of the earth during the many centuries which have elapsed since he ceased to speak face to face with men. What, indeed, are these words of his, "I will glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me," but foolishness to human wisdom, or, at best, an enigma without solution! But it is precisely these infirmities of which he boasts that gave him the power he possessed, and laid the foundation of all his glory. "When I am weak," he says again, "then am I powerful." Nonsense to human reason, but divine wisdom to faith. If, therefore, I would praise St. Paul, as is befitting on this day, I must praise hid infirmities--weaknesses which the world calls misfortunes, and deficiencies upon which none but saints ever rest their hopes of success. To judge after the manner of man, we would ordinarily expect to find in one who is an orator of great power certain personal qualifications which, in the very nature of things, would serve to impress and win his audience. We would seek for great polish in the style, and consummate art in the preparation and delivery of his discourses. {171} For one who aims at swaying not only a chance multitude who, for the moment, comes within the sound of his voice, but at conquering their souls, and winning them to the point of making most heroic sacrifices; who not only preaches to his hearers, but commands them with the air of one having authority, we would look for the favorable, popular verdict shown in honors and dignities showered upon him, in credit and influence, and his having reached that summit where men vie with one another in giving him place, and when even his enemies fear to gainsay or persecute him. Such, indeed, are the orators whom the world crowns with its laurels. But in all these St. Paul was lacking; and yet, by the world's own confession, he has surpassed them all. To meditate upon this mystery of Divine Providence, which makes use of the weak things of this world to confound the strong, and the foolish to confound the wise, cannot fail to enlighten and edify us. We who, like the world in general, have known the great Apostle chiefly from the sublime picture which his unparalleled success presents, have doubtless imagined him to be a person of tall and majestic stature, of pleasing address and magisterial deportment; being, as we say, a man of fine presence, whose appearance was alone sufficient to bring forth plaudits from his auditory, and enforce at once a respectful and submissive hearing. {172} Such are, indeed, the ideal portraits of him with which we please ourselves, and such have the masters in art represented him. But from various allusions he makes in his writings to himself, it is certain that he was frail in body, of a diffident and submissive bearing, and altogether wanting in that air of decision and self-assertion which naturally overawes the multitude. When he, with his companion apostle, St. Barnabas, healed the cripple at Lystra, the people imagined them to be gods; but in calling St. Barnabas, rather than St. Paul, Jupiter, it is evident that other apostle far surpassed St. Paul in the dignity and majesty of his person. He can write boldly, he says, but "in presence is lowly"; [Footnote 70] and, again, he affirms the truth of what people said of him, that "his bodily presence is weak, and his speech contemptible;" and the frequent contrasts he draws between his personal infirmities and his spiritual power and graces, leave the fact beyond doubt that he was by no means a man of dignified aspect or commanding mien. [Footnote 70: 2 Cor. x. 1] We might be tempted to think he would feel this infirmity most keenly as a serious drawback to his success as an orator, as we ourselves would judge it to be. But no. He will rather glory in his infirmities as the source of his power; and here at the outset we get an insight into the whole spirit of this champion of the Gospel. {173} From the instant of his miraculous conversion, he appears to be wholly absorbed in the contemplation of the sublime mystery of the voluntary abasement of God in concealing the awful majesty and splendor of his Divine Being in human nature, that what he, with apostolic hardihood, calls the "foolishness of God" and the "weakness of God," might subdue and atone for the sinful pride and vainglory of men. He rejoices, therefore, that he has nothing in himself which might cause the admiration of men and make void the humility of Jesus and His cross--a thought which so fills his soul that he says he knows nothing else besides. The less he has in himself to glory in, the greater is his consciousness of the power of the Gospel of the Crucified, which he only lives to preach. "Power is made perfect in infirmity," was the revelation made to him when caught up to the third heaven. "I will glory, therefore," he exclaims, "in my infirmities." I am glad that I am weak in bodily presence and contemptible in speech. Freed from this temptation of human vanity, which in turn would divert the souls of my hearers from the Gospel to the preacher of the Gospel, the power of Christ will dwell more fully in me. "When I am weak, then am I powerful." {174} When I, Paul the Apostle, am nothing, then will the victory of grace be complete in the souls who, through me, believe and are converted--when I have nothing in me to please and attract the sight, men will see only the Cross which I hold up to their gaze. So fearful was he of attracting to himself any personal affection, that he avoided baptizing his own converts and receiving them into the church, lest they should say--I am of Paul, I belong to the Church of St. Paul the Apostle, instead of acknowledging, as he was always doing himself, "By the grace of God, I am what I am--a Christian saved from hell by God's mercy." Let us look now at his second and greater infirmity--his weakness as an orator. He had a strange, difficult, shocking, and what he terms a scandalous doctrine to preach--the redemption of the world by a crucified God. Surely, this man, who is so lacking in the external qualifications of an effective speaker, possesses at least the magic power of sublime eloquence. He who has such a repulsive truth to announce will seek the most polished phrases, and cover up the hard things which he has to say by flowers of rhetoric, and, with studied art in his tones of speech, will charm his unwilling audience to receive and obey the austere lessons of the Gospel. {175} By no means. Such was his infirmity in this respect that his disciples called his speech contemptible, and he acknowledged the truth of their judgment, and reminds his beloved Corinthians that he was "with them in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling," adding, "My speech and preaching was not in the persuasive words of human wisdom." [Footnote 71] [Footnote 71: I Cor. ii. 4.] Not only do we see in the discourses recorded of him the most simple and unadorned phraseology, but even his writings, full as they are of the most profound and heavenly doctrine, are the most inartificial, disconnected, and poor in imagery that could well be imagined. What a misfortune for an orator! cries the world. "What a glory is mine infirmity!" responds the Apostle of that Gospel which is wisdom hidden from the self-sufficient rich and the insolent magnates of a depraved world, but a revelation of divine truth to babes. And I, who praise St. Paul, will praise this infirmity of his as well, knowing that he has not rested his power as an apostle and his hopes of success upon it in vain. If St. Paul be unable to use, or disdain in his preaching all rhetorical flourish and tricks of oratory, if his language is almost rude in its plainness and harsh from the total absence of brilliant metaphor or well-rounded period, it is because he has nothing to preach but Jesus Christ and Him crucified. {176} All those harmonious cadences which flatter the ear, all that fanciful imagery in which the orators of human doctrine and science deal so largely and are paid with clapping of hands, are at best but showy tinsel, unworthy of the Incarnate Wisdom, and a vain mockery of the lowly speech and simple words of the Man of Sorrows. What we adore in our Lord's person is His lowliness and humility, mingled with a certain divine and grand simplicity of character. So are all His words, plain and simple; spoken evidently without passionate gesture, and in no loud or clamorous tone. Simple, because all that is divine is simple; all else is human pride and sensuality. Such is what I may call the divine instinct of the Church, the Body of Christ, who also disdains, when she lifts her voice in prayer or praise, all the effeminate and meretricious ornaments of harmony or melody, which are the sources of attraction and admiration in worldly music, and adheres to what is simple in its enunciation, grave in movement, and moderate in tone, as one who reveals divine thoughts, and not the dreamy, overwrought imaginations of impassioned genius, which minister rather to the senses than to the soul. {177} Behold, therefore, the great Apostle, inspired by this simplicity of Divine truth, going out upon his great mission to become the preacher of that truth to the whole world, but so thoroughly imbued with the spirit of the meek and humble-hearted Jesus that he speaks in weakness, in much fear and trembling, yet with such power that even Greece, that mother of philosophers and orators, forgets the fervid eloquence of her Plato and Demosthenes to drink in the divine lessons of the Gospel from the lips of this unskilled orator; and Rome herself, the mistress of the world, at his word overthrows her idols and consecrates her majestic temples of glory to the worship of a Man crucified at Jerusalem. O glorious Apostle! well mayest thou glory in that which before men is thy weakness! Thine infirmity is thy power. Without human power, thou abandonest thyself wholly to the divine power of Christ, and that--that is more than enough power to conquer the world. That world in its pride will criticise you, and ridicule your want of polish and lack of rhetoric, and your trembling, hesitating gesture, but it will believe in Jesus Christ and Him crucified whom you preach. Its orators will not follow you as a model, but they themselves will beat their breasts, and confess their sins, and do penance at your bidding. But, powerful as he is in the infirmity of his speech, to fully convince the world of the truth of his awful and austere doctrine, he has yet to measure his strength against a more obstinate and unyielding enemy to the Gospel of the Cross. {178} The mind of man cannot long blind its sight to the illumination of the truth; but who shall subdue and win the hardened heart? O wondrous science of the saints! O divine enigma which no one shall understand who does not write its solution in his own blood! "__Regnavit a ligno Deus!__" "God hath reigned from the wood of the cross." Even God cannot reign in the kingdom of the hearts of men until He is a crucified man, whose streaming blood cries aloud and pleads, with the irresistible torrent of the eloquence of suffering, to heaven. Yes; to heaven must the voice of suffering preach; for Paul may plant, and Apollos water, but God alone can give the increase. From God alone can come the grace that achieves the consummation of the triumph of the truth, and completes the labor of the Apostle. When was Jesus Christ the Master of the world? Where was it that He drew all things to Himself by the cords of Adam and the bands of love? Was it when He went about doing good, working miracles, preaching His divine doctrine? Ah no! It was when He was lifted up the pleading Victim, whose blood and wounds spoke better things than the blood of Abel, and whose requests could not be denied. {179} Well does the Church say, "__Regnavit a ligno Deus!__" And what shall we expect, if even Jesus is only powerful from His cross, but that His chosen vessel of election, who shall carry His Gospel to the whole world, first shall say: "I judge myself to know nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified"; and that afterwards his life should prove the truth of his same infirmity in himself: "With Christ I am nailed to the cross," [Footnote 72] "I die daily;" that he should be stoned and scourged, and imprisoned and persecuted, and driven from city to city, "in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils from the Jews, in perils from the Gentiles, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils from false brethren, in labor and painfulness, in long watchings, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness;" [Footnote 73] and, added to all these sufferings, those interior trials and bitternesses of spirit with which God invariably purifies the souls of His elect. He must preach in the stead of Christ, and therefore he must suffer in His stead. Wherefore he says: "I fill up in my own flesh those things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ." [Footnote 74] [Footnote 72: Gal. ii. 19.] [Footnote 73: 2 Cor. xi. 26, 27.] [Footnote 74: Col. i. 24.] Nor are we surprised, if the world be, that he should please himself in this life of constant suffering in what seems to be, as men judge, failures and losses, and disheartening, conflicting obstacles to his success. {180} The world, to whom the cross of Christ is foolishness, would demand for a preacher who could hope for a success equal to St. Paul's, invariable good health, a well-nourished body, a mind not overtaxed, popular applause, and a career of unvarying triumph. But I, who would praise St. Paul, will praise him for his life of suffering. When he is weak before men, then is he powerful with God. God and the whole court of heaven is the audience of the suffering man; and he who would sway the Divine Mercy must take counsel from the Crucified Incarnate Wisdom, and find an advocate in his own blood. For thirty long years did this "Victim dear to heaven" suffer a daily death, yet rejoicing always that he was counted worthy to suffer for the name of the Lord Jesus; and as we follow him about from country to country, and from city to city, we can number his successes by the number of his adversities--adversities which had no power to subdue his exalted soul, or shake for one instant the constancy of his superhuman love for Christ and His cross. Hark to that outburst of generous love from his undaunted heart--"Who, then, shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or persecution, or the sword? I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor might, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." [Footnote 75] [Footnote 75: Rom. viii. 35-39.] {181} Thirty years of restless labor and fatigues, and now this aged and worn-out Apostle, to whom we would fain grant some days of sweet repose for his declining years, must gird up his loins and prepare to meet the crowning suffering of his life--a martyr's death. Rome, imperial Rome, palace of pride and sensuality, thou boastest that thou art the mistress of the world; that thy name and power is honored and feared by every nation, and none dare refuse thee tribute! Proud throne of the world, tremble! for there is coming into thy gates a conqueror who will humble thee in the dust, who will take away all thine armor in which thou trustest, and compel thee to pay tribute to him; and, through him, constrain thee to bring the world under another Ruler, whose kingdom shall be without end, and whose principality no man shall take away. Go, O captain of many victories! __Prospere procede, et regna__. Rome will laugh at thy apostolic folly, but thou shalt make her weep. Rome is the world's citadel of error; thou shalt make her the ever-enduring and infallible chair of truth. Rome will bring thee into her as a prisoner in chains, but thou shalt prove her liberator. {182} Rome will put thee to death, but the voice of thy martyr's blood shall cry to heaven and give her eternal life. Take glory to thyself, O holy Paul! and rejoice and exult in thine infirmities, for now is the hour when thy strength shall be divine! Though dead, he yet speaketh. From his tomb St. Paul is still the preacher of the truth to the whole world. Still he announces the truth as it is in Christ Jesus and Him crucified. Still he confounds the Gentile philosophies of every age, still draws with irresistible eloquence the hearts of men to the sacrifices of an heroic love for Christ. The text of St. Paul living and suffering was, "Jesus Christ and Him crucified." He who to-day approaches the vast temple beneath whose majestic dome repose the sacred ashes of the divine preacher, descries upon the base of a lofty obelisk that confronts the portals of the Apostle's world-renowned sepulchre the text of St. Paul dead and triumphant: "Ecce crucem Domini! Fugite partes adversæ." "Behold the Cross of the Lord! Let all its adversaries be put to flight." ----------------------- {183} Sermon XII. The Value Of Faith. (For The Feast Of St. Peter's Chains.) I Cor. xvi. 13. "__Watch ye; stand fast in the faith; do manfully, and be strengthened.__" We celebrate to-day the feast called "St. Peter's Chains," to commemorate the miraculous union which took place between the two chains that had bound St. Peter in prison--the one under King Herod, and the other at Rome, under Nero--when they were brought together. Why was St. Peter willing to be bound and imprisoned for the faith of Christ? Because he esteemed it more precious than liberty, or any thing else that the world prizes; as he says when he writes to others suffering for the same cause, "That the trial of your faith (much more precious than gold which is tried in the fire) may be found unto praise and glory and honor at the appearing of Jesus Christ." [Footnote 76] [Footnote 76: I Ep. St. Peter i. 7.] {184} What is it that gives to faith its priceless value? Why is it to be esteemed above liberty, the possession of wealth, more than friends, parents, the whole world, and even more than life itself? There are those who do not possess this gift, and who, to all appearances, are as happy as those who do. Nations have existed, and now exist, strong and prosperous, and are without faith. What is there in faith that makes it worthy of being praised as the "pearl of great price," as "more precious than fire-refined gold," as something better to be desired by men--yes, even by nations--than power, rank, or glory? The value of things may be got at in two ways. The first is by estimating them according to their real qualities; the second, according to what men are willing to give or sacrifice for their possession. Let us consider the value of faith weighed in each of these balances. There are many things which men prize highly. At certain seasons they cross the seas, endure fatigue, spend a great deal of time and money--and what for? To gaze on beautiful scenery, view works of art, and visit great men and places renowned in history. They are charmed with the aspect of the mountains, the trees, the flowers, the streams, the glowing sunsets, and are filled with admiration. These moments of joy outweigh with them all the fatigue, expense, and time expended in reaching these favored spots of nature. {185} It is the same at home. We leave our busy cities in the summer, and hasten to our mountains, our lakes, and the sea-shores. And why do men prize these beautiful scenes? There must be, there is something valuable in them. Their charms, the joy and pleasure derived from nature, spring not from ourselves. What attracts us in creation is the traces of God's beauty, and in contemplating these the soul is drawn nearer to God, and its joy increased. It is God in nature who dilates the soul. Why do men love poetry, music, architecture, painting, and sculpture? Why have the verses of a Homer, a Dante, a Shakespeare, been the delight of ages? Why is it that a whole nation feels honored in the possession of a work from the chisel of Michael Angelo, or a Madonna of Raphael, or a Cathedral of Cologne, or in having given birth to Dante or Shakespeare? Why are our souls enlarged and raised above the senses in listening to strains of music composed by a Palestrina or a Beethoven or a Mozart? It is because art is a higher expression of the Divine, and brings us nearer to the All-True, Holy, and Fair. We know how men are devoted to science, to philosophy; how they rival the severest ascetic in their self-denial, in order to advance knowledge. The astronomer, gazing on the heavens, discovers new planets, and finds out the great laws which govern all material things. {186} The geologist digs deep down into the bowels of the earth, and reveals to us its secrets and its ages of growth. The philosopher analyzes thought and the secret folds of the soul, and teaches us its laws and dignity. Why all these studies--why so much time, energy, patience, and devotion to the sciences? What sustains these men of science? What pays them for all their trouble? What is it that stimulates them in their pursuits? Is it pride and love of fame, or selfishness? No! it is the hope of the discovery of unknown truths. What is Truth? God is Truth. Then, at last account, these men are seeking God. You perceive that nature, art, science, are only different channels of arriving at the one source of all truth and beauty--God; for all truth is in harmony. The truth, whether in nature or art or science, is derived from the same source, as is also the truth in our souls or in the sacred Scriptures, which the Holy Church infallibly teaches. If men sometimes fancy there is a discrepancy between religion and science, it "arises chiefly from this, that either the doctrines of faith are not understood and set forth as the Church holds them, or that the vain devices and opinions of men are mistaken for the dictates of reason." [Footnote 77] [Footnote 77: Vatican Council.] {187} This capacity to perceive the true and beautiful in nature, in art, and from the discoveries of science, belongs to our natural reason, and cannot be esteemed too highly. It is a sin against its Giver not to improve it. It is the glory of the Holy Church that, by her institutions of learning and her encouragement and fostering care, she has ever been the promoter of science and of the fine arts. But what unaided reason can know in nature of God does not satisfy man. The soul seeks to know more of God, to come nearer to God. Nature, art, and science do not suffice to satisfy its aspirations--aspirations after the real, of which nature, art, and science are only imperfect images or limited conceptions. It is to meet this want that the divine light of faith is given to the soul. It gives to the soul a greater knowledge of God, by revealing to it truths above nature and beyond the utmost reach of man's reason. The strength which faith imparts brings the soul nearer to and in closer union with God. If, therefore, men value things because they give a clearer knowledge of God, and bring them closer to Him, how much more ought they to value the light of Christian faith? If men love nature, art, and science, that is the reason why they should be Christians, and all the better Christians, because Christianity brings us nearer to the object of all our seeking than reason, art, and science can ever possibly do. {188} Reason brings us to God as His creatures, and makes Him known to us as Providence. Faith brings us to God as His children, and leads us to cry to Him with the inmost affections of our hearts, "Abba, Father!" Reason, by science, art, and philosophy, leads the mind to the contemplation of God as the great First Cause and the Archetype of all beauty. But faith makes us participators in the Divine nature, "heirs of God," and, when perfected by the light of glory, enables the soul to gaze on the Divine Essence, fills it with torrents of delight, and bathes it in the sea of God's own beatitude. Is not everything else as nothing compared with the Divine light of faith! O inestimable faith! the crown and glory of human reason! the best of God's gifts to man! Having learned that faith is inestimable on account of its inherent qualities, now let us test its value by what men have done and suffered to keep so great a possession. Look upon the crucifix above the altar, that tells you what the God-Man suffered to bestow this gift upon man. His wounds, His blood, His life, is the price He paid in our stead for it. If a thing can be estimated by what __men__ pay to suffer or do for it, look at Calvary, at what God has paid and suffered for it, and tell us what is comparable with faith. {189} The Apostles, before they obtained it, were weak and timid; but when they had received it, they suffered and gloried therein. They lived, labored, suffered, and in turn laid down their lives in testimony of the priceless value of that gift of all gifts. And when the faith was preached in pagan Rome and throughout its Empire, honors, riches, and all earthly joys and ties were, by all classes of men, renounced for its sake, so highly did they prize it. For it Stephen, Ignatius, Lucy, Agnes, Cecilia, Anastasia, and the millions of martyrs, "full of faith," poured out their blood like water, and cheerfully laid down their lives. It was the wish to communicate this rare gift to others that stimulated the zeal of the apostles of the nations--a St. Patrick in Ireland, a St. Augustine in England, a St. Boniface in Germany, a St. Francis Xavier in the Indies, and led the saintly Father Jogues to our land, who was martyred by the Indians on the banks of the Mohawk. Columbus prized so highly the gift of faith, that, to bring its light to the benighted savages whom he supposed existed on this hemisphere, he encountered unknown dangers, and sustained heroic sufferings, in the enterprise of its discovery. {190} Most of you, my dear brethren, are from the old country, and have come to this strange land--and why? Did your native hills lose their charms for you? Did the ruins of your land and the graves of your ancestors awaken in your bosoms no longer any feelings of attachment and veneration? Have you no affection left for those parents, those brothers and sisters and kindred, left in the old home? Have you forgotten the glories of your history, and think it nothing to lose your nationality, and see your children after you grow up the sons and daughters of another soil? Why, then, have you renounced all that men hold so dear? It is because you loved your faith above every consideration in life. You counted all else as nothing compared with it, and so that you might keep it, you were ready to endure suffering, poverty, and persecutions, and abandon all that men hold dear. This is why you are here to-day and not in Ireland. Had your forefathers, or you, chosen to apostatize from your Catholic faith, and deny the truth of Christ, you could be this moment prosperous and smiling under the favor of kings and princes in your native country. Look, again, at the throng of converts who have cast aside position, wealth, and fame for that holy faith, and in turn become the heralds of truth to the world. A Prince Gallitzin chose banishment and the sacrifice of a princely fortune in becoming a Catholic; and when a priest, hiding even his rank and name, lived and toiled like an apostle in the wilds of the Alleghany Mountains. {191} Look at an Ives, who esteemed it greater to possess the faith in the humble position of a Catholic layman, than to hold the rank of Bishop in the Protestant Episcopal Church without it. Thousands have given up parents, brothers, and sisters, and kindred, become poor and outcasts, to gain this pearl of great price, the gift of faith, thus fulfilling the words of our Lord, "He that loveth father or mother more than Me, is not worthy of Me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than Me, is not worthy of Me." [Footnote 78] [Footnote 78: St. Matt. x. 37.] O holy faith for which the martyrs died, the missionaries and saints toiled, and for which houses, lands, parents, and friends, and all things, are counted as nothing! Do we prize thee, O divine gift, as these have done? Art thou to us above all price? If so, then to us the words of the apostle have a true and living meaning:-- "__Watch ye__," or else this gift will be stolen from you. Nations to which the Church gave birth, and under whose fostering care they have grown great, have lost the faith. There is not a people upon earth to-day, as a nation, to whom the Holy Church can look for defence against persecution, spoliation, and downright robbery. {192} As in the days of paganism, she is surrounded by enemies, and has no one to rely on but her Divine Founder. Why has the faith been stolen from the nations? Because it has first been stolen from the people. It will be stolen from each one of us, unless we keep a constant watch over ourselves. Watch over what we read. The literature of our time is filled with misrepresentations, calumnies, and falsehoods concerning our holy faith. The press, the most powerful engine of modern times, is on the side of the enemies of our faith. The very atmosphere we breathe is poisoned with scepticism, infidelity, and atheism. "__Stand fast in the faith__." Claim our rights. To claim these, we shall be charged with stirring up strife. But this must not disturb us. The same charge was made against our Lord. "He stirreth up the people," said the envious priests. As to our rights, they are equal, if not prior, to all others. Catholics discovered this continent. The feet of Catholics first trod the native soil of these United States. Catholic missionaries first reddened it with their blood for the Christian faith. Catholics fought and bled for our independence, and for its maintenance. Our right to breathe freely the air of heaven, to religious liberty, to equal political rights, and equal privileges with all other American citizens, is indisputable. We ask for these--no more; and with no less will we be content. {193} "__Do manfully__." Can men say what they please against our holy faith, and we not lift up our voices in its defence! It is our joy that our holy faith can never be opposed except by ignorance or calumny. Shall all we hold sacred be caricatured, calumniated, and we sit with folded arms in silence? Shall the literature of the day undermine the faith of our people, and the press caricature and falsify it, and we not employ this most efficient weapon in its defence and for its propagation? A Catholic invented the printing-press. Catholics first used it. Are the children of darkness always to be wiser than the children of light? Shall we not turn their own weapons against them? Let us be up and do manfully. "__Be strengthened__." Our faith is our force. Our forefathers knew how to die for the faith. Can we not live for it? Be strong in our convictions of its truth! Defend it publicly, politically, and privately! We cannot suffer by so doing, for no man is esteemed who is false to his own convictions. Acting thus, we shall be strengthened, and though every one of the enemies of our holy faith were ten thousand, we shall be victors. The hour of death will then be the crowning point of our lives. {194} We shall be able to say, with our great patron St. Paul, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: and, as to the rest, there is laid up for me a crown of justice, which the Lord the just judge will render to me in that day." [Footnote 79] [Footnote 79: 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8.] ---------------------- {195} Sermon XIII. The Supremacy Of St. Peter. (Feast Of Ss. Peter And Paul.) St. Matt. xvi. 18. "__And I say to thee: That thou art Peter; and upon this Rock I will build My Church__." The shortest, most direct, most conclusive, and most intelligible method of proving the truth of any system is to find its principle, its fundamental idea, and to establish the reality and certainty of this idea. When this is done, the whole system which is logically and justly built on this foundation is already proved. In the case of the Christian religion, we have only one thing to establish, in order to convince all pagans, Mohammedans, modern Jews, and unbelievers, who are truly rational, of its divine truth. That one thing is the divine mission of Jesus Christ. When that is established, there is but one question which can be reasonably asked--What is the authentic doctrine and law promulgated by Jesus Christ? {196} In the same manner, in order to convince all rational men that the Catholic religion is entirely true, and the real Christianity established by the Apostles, it is only necessary to prove its fundamental principle, the Supremacy of St. Peter and his successors, the Roman Pontiffs. This doctrine, held and understood in its strict and complete Catholic sense, distinguishes the Catholic religion from every other. This once established in the conviction and belief of the mind, the truth of the whole Catholic religion, in all its parts, follows as a necessary consequence. It follows that the communion of which the Pope is the Supreme Head, is the true Church established by Jesus Christ--One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic, incapable of falling away, and infallible in doctrine. The foundation of this great and world-wide Church is the Papal Supremacy of St. Peter and his successors, and its principal portion is the Roman See. If I prove that this foundation was laid by Jesus Christ, it will be evident that the Church founded upon it is the true Catholic Church, and the faith of that Church the true Christian and Catholic faith. I will then endeavor to prove, first, that Jesus Christ appointed St. Peter as Prince of the Apostles, His Vicar, and the Supreme Pastor and Ruler of the Church; and, second, that the Bishop of Rome is St. Peter's successor. {197} First, Jesus Christ appointed St. Peter as Prince of the Apostles, His Vicar, and the Supreme Pastor and Ruler of the Church. This will be the theme of the present discourse. The title, Prince of the Apostles, signifies that St. Peter was the chief and head of the Apostolic college, and enjoyed a pre-eminence of honor and authority over the other Apostles. This preeminence of St. Peter is everywhere manifest in the New Testament. He was not the first called, for St. Andrew was before him, yet he is always placed first in the catalogue of Apostles, and is expressly called the "First" by St. Matthew. He generally appears as the leader and spokesman of the other Apostles, and is always mentioned as the first of the three Apostles who enjoyed the peculiar confidence of Jesus Christ, were witnesses of His transfiguration and agony, and in other ways were preferred before the rest, the other two being James and John. He was the first of the apostles who saw the Lord after His resurrection, and the angel at the sepulchre sent him a special message by name, "Go, tell the disciples, __and Peter__." He was the first who pronounced in the Council of the Apostles his judgment that they must elect another Apostle in the place of Judas--the first who preached Christ to the Jews, and the first who admitted the Gentiles to baptism. He pronounced sentence in the Council of Jerusalem. {198} While the other Apostles confined themselves within a particular circle, he visited the Church everywhere--"__pertransivit universos__." He approved the writings of St. Paul, and the same St. Paul went expressly to Jerusalem, as he says, "to see Peter," commanded by "a revelation"; that he might submit his gospel to the judgment of the Prince of the Apostles, of St. James the Patriarch of Jerusalem, and the other Apostles there, in order to obtain the approbation of St. Peter and his fellow-bishops--"lest perhaps," as he writes to the Galatians, "I should run, or had run in vain." Perhaps the most striking proof that St. Peter had a real oversight over the other Apostles, as the pastor of pastors, is found in the fact that Jesus Christ, immediately before His passion, committed the other Apostles to his care, and offered up a special prayer for him, to obtain the grace necessary for this high trust. He said to all the Apostles, speaking to St. Peter by name as their representative, "Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath desired to have __you__ [in the plural number, designating the eleven], that he may sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for __thee__ [in the singular number], that __thy__ faith fail not: and thou being once converted, confirm thy brethren"--"__Aliquando conversus confirma fratres tuos__." A remarkable passage! Our Lord, at this awful moment, disclosed a portion of His divine knowledge, and gave His Apostles a glimpse into futurity. {199} He showed them Satan, exerting his utmost to destroy them as the guardians of the faith, and the custodians of all the hopes of the human race. He intimates very plainly that but for Him they would be inevitably swept away. But He had prayed for them, and, when He prayed with an unconditional will that His prayer should be heard, its effect must be infallible. His prayer was especially for St. Peter, that __his__ faith should not fail, in order that he might confirm his brethren. So that it was by a special grace conferred on St. Peter, by which he was enabled to watch over them, that they were to be confirmed in faith. Who does not see here that pre-eminence of St. Peter over his colleagues which is expressed by the title, Prince of the Apostles? [Footnote 80] [Footnote 80: Matt. x. 2; Mark iii. 16; Luke vi. 14; John i. 33-41; Luke xxiv. 34; Acts i. 15 et seq.; ii. 14 __et seq__.; x. 34; xv. 7; ix. 32; 2 Pet. iii. 15, 16; Gal. ii. 2; Luke xxii. 32. __Conf. Perrone Loc. Theol__. De Primatu.] I cannot sum up all this testimony of Scripture better than in the grand, concise language of Bossuet, in his sermon on the __Unity of the Church__: "Peter appears in every respect as the first: the first to confess the faith; the first in the manifestation of love; the first of all the Apostles who saw the Saviour raised from the dead, as he was the first witness of the fact before all the people; the first, when it was necessary to fill up the number of the Apostles; the first who confirmed the faith by a miracle; the first to convert the Jews; the first to receive the Gentiles; the first everywhere. {200} It is impossible for me to mention every proof. Everything concurs to establish his primacy; yes, even his very faults. When power is given to several, the exercise of the power by each one is restricted by the fact that others share it with him. But power given to a single individual over all, and without exception, necessarily implies the plenitude of power. ... All the apostles receive the same power, but not in the same degree, or with the same extent. Jesus Christ commences by the first, and in this first one He develops the whole, in order that we may learn that the ecclesiastical authority which was originally constituted in the person of one man is not imparted to others, except on the condition of remaining always subordinate to the principle from which its unity is derived, and that all those who shall be charged with its exercise are found to remain inseparably united to the same chair." This is enough to show what some of the most eminent Protestant writers even have acknowledged, that St. Peter was the first, the chief, the most pre-eminent, the Prince of the Apostles. St. Peter was also the Vicar of Jesus Christ, the Supreme Pastor and Ruler of the Church. {201} The title of Vicar of Christ implies that Jesus Christ delegated to him His own jurisdiction over the Church. A vicar is one who exercises the authority vested in the principal by delegation from him. A viceroy or vice-king governs a subordinate kingdom, __vice regis__, in place of the king. A vicar-general exercises episcopal jurisdiction, __vice episcopi__, in place of the bishop, and governs the diocese during his absence. So when St. Peter is said to have been made by our Lord His Vicar, it means that he received jurisdiction to govern in the place of Jesus Christ Himself, Who is by personal and inherent right the High Priest of the Catholic Church, but Who, being absent from the earth, must exercise His functions by a substitute. It is unquestionable that, under the Old Law, the high-priest was the vice gerent of God, and the supreme head of the Jewish Church. It is equally unquestionable that, in establishing the New Law, Christ appointed St. Peter His Vicar and the Supreme Head of the Christian Church. There is nothing clearer in the New Testament than this. Jesus Christ distinctly promised to St. Peter that He would build His Church upon him, and would give him the keys of the kingdom of heaven; and He actually fulfilled these promises before He ascended into heaven, by committing His universal flock to him alone to feed and rule it. This promise is recorded in the sixteenth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel: {202} "Jesus saith to them: But whom do you say that I am? Simon Peter answered and said: Thou art Christ the Son of the living God. And Jesus answering, said to him: Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-Jona: because flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but My Father who is in heaven. And I say to thee: That them art Peter; and upon this rock I will build My Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. And I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven. And whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth, it shall be bound also in heaven; and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth, it shall be loosed also in heaven." In this magnificent promise, Jesus Christ evidently declares His intention to delegate supreme power to St. Peter, and constitute him His Vicar in the Christian Church. This supreme power is signified by a double metaphor, viz., a __foundation__ and __keys__. First, He says: "Thou art Peter; and on this rock I will build My Church." In order to understand the force of this declaration, it is necessary to call to mind that the name of Peter, which signifies Rock, was not the proper name of the Apostle. His name was Simon. The Lord gave him the name of Peter when He first called him to the apostleship, as an appellation significant of his character and office in the Church. {203} But it was on the occasion of his noble confession of Christ, made by a special inspiration of the Holy Ghost, that He first announced the full import of that mysterious name. St. Peter said, "Thou art Christ"--by this title, which signifies the Anointed One, acknowledging all those divine attributes and prerogatives which are implied in the character of the Messiah of God and Redeemer of the world. The Lord replied in a manner denoting the solemnity of the occasion, and speaking with all the dignity and authority of a Legislator and a Prophet, by conferring on St. Peter, in return for the honor which he had just rendered Him, the highest honor which was in His gift: "Thou art Peter [i.e., a Rock]: and on this Rock I will build My Church." The plain and natural sense of these words of Christ is, that He appoints Peter to occupy a position in the spiritual edifice of the Church corresponding to that occupied by a foundation in a material building. The foundation sustains and, as it were, rules the whole edifice--__i.e.__, by its strength it keeps the whole building in order, and every portion of it in its proper place, thus keeping it from crumbling into ruin--and losing all structural form in a mass of shattered fragments. The foundation is to the building the principle of its unity, repose, order, and durability. {204} Therefore, Peter must be the same to the Church. By him the Church must be sustained, ruled, kept in order, and prevented from falling in pieces, and thus losing its organic form. His authority must be the principle of its unity, strength, and perpetuity. All the force of its laws must be derived from him, and all its authority must ultimately rest on him as its final ground and basis. This is the first portion of our Lord's divine decree concerning St. Peter. Let us now examine the second. "I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven." Among the principal nations of antiquity, and particularly among the Hebrews, it was a received usage that the tradition of the keys denoted the transfer or acknowledgment of supreme power over the house, citadel, or city to whose gates they belonged. These keys, when made of precious metal, and, as was often the case, richly ornamented, were a symbol of power and dignity, and carried only by kings, princes, and magistrates. In the Hebrew monarchy, the chief of the royal household, who was a kind of grand chancellor of the kingdom, or vicar of the king, carried a large key on his shoulder as a badge of his office. {205} In the Prophecy of Isaias,[C. xxii.] we read this prediction concerning Eliacim, son of the high-priest Helcias: "I will place upon his shoulder the key of the house of David, and he shall open and there shall be no one who shall shut, and he shall shut and there shall be no one who shall open, and he shall be on the throne of glory of his father's house." This probably signifies that Eliacim should become high-priest in his father's place; and gives us a plain proof that the keys were an emblem of the sovereign pontificate in the Jewish Church. In the Apocalypse of St. John, the same emblem of the keys is used to designate the sovereign pontificate of Jesus Christ Himself: "These things saith the Holy One and the True One, He that hath the key of David; He that openeth, and no man shutteth; shutteth, and no man openeth." [Footnote 81] [Footnote 81: Apoc. iii. 7.] [USCCB: Revelation iii. 7.] Our Lord, as the lineal descendant of David, was the lawful King of the Jews, and this royal lineage according to earthly and temporal laws, was typical of His inherent royalty as the Son of God. Therefore, the key of David, or the outward and visible sign of David's royalty, is taken as expressive of His supreme dominion as Lord and Redeemer of the world. When Christ promised to give the keys of the kingdom of heaven--the keys of His own kingdom, and the symbols of His own Sovereignty--to St. Peter, He must have intended to delegate that sovereignty to him, and to constitute him His Vicar on the earth: To make it still more plain that He meant this, our Lord made a distinct and express declaration to this effect, in these words: "And whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth, it shall be bound also in heaven; and whatsoever thou shalt loose upon earth, it shall be loosed also in heaven." {206} These words designate the plenitude of power to be conferred on St. Peter, of making laws, and binding the consciences of all to observe them, punishing transgressors, abrogating these same laws and pardoning offenders, and doing whatever else the good of the Church or its individual members may require, according to the diversity of times and circumstances. Jesus Christ gives before hand the seal and warrant of His divine authority to all these laws. This is what is called, in the language of commerce and politics, giving __carte blanche__. King Charles V. of Spain, when he sent commissioners to America to inquire into the abuses and cruelties perpetrated by the avaricious Spanish colonists against the Indians, gave them a number of blank sheets already signed and sealed with the royal sign-manual, that they might promulgate royal edicts according to their own judgment. In the same way, Jesus Christ promises that He will give to St. Peter this unlimited power of exercising jurisdiction, in His name, in the Catholic Church, with the sealed sign-manual of heaven. {207} But Jesus Christ not only promised to bestow this power on St. Peter: He made to him, after His resurrection and before His ascension, a formal grant of this power, and solemnly delivered up the care and government of His universal flock into his hands. This fact is recorded by St. John, in the twenty-first chapter of his Gospel. Everything about this chapter is mysterious and sublime in the highest degree, and every word, every circumstance, points to that high office of the Chief Pastor, and, after Christ, principal founder of the Christian religion, which was given to St. Peter. It was an awful moment; like that mysterious and solemn period of twilight, when the sun has set, but still leaves some lingering gleam of his light behind him, before the dark hour of night draws on, and the milder and fainter radiance of the moon succeeds to the brightness of day--the brief period of transition from day to night--from light to darkness--the holiest hour of the day, when the soul, as it were, naturally withdraws from the world towards God and heaven. Such a moment had now come in the progress of time, the twilight of the world. Jesus Christ, the Light of the world--the Sun of Justice, who had risen in the East with healing in his beams--had gone down to the grave, had closed His earthly career, and the world henceforth, so long illuminated by the presence of the bright Sun of truth and grace, would have no longer any other light to shine upon it except the reflected light of the Catholic Church. {208} The time of night and of the absence of Jesus Christ from His disciples was approaching. And yet He was not altogether withdrawn. Still, in His spiritual and glorified body, He lingered on the earth, coming and going, approaching and vanishing before His disciples. He was still with them, but no longer as an inhabitant of the earth, but of heaven. At this time it was that St. Peter said to his fellow-disciples, "I go a-fishing." Who can fail to see here, with all the wisest and holiest interpreters of the Scripture, a mysterious foreshadowing of that great fishery for the souls of men, in which the Apostolic net was to draw so many into the Church? It was Peter who was the leader and chief here, and by his orders the nets were cast. Suddenly, Jesus Christ appeared standing on the shore, and commanded them to cast their nets on the right side of the boat. They did so, and, although they had before this caught nothing, their net was immediately so filled with large fishes that they could not draw it. It required the assistance of all those who were on board several other boats to draw the net. And yet, when the Lord commanded some of these fishes to be brought, St. Peter, alone, went and drew the net up on the beach. {209} Evidently do these emblematic events indicate St. Peter as the one who should command the ship of the Church, and preside over the grand fishery of souls, and by his supernatural power should pull the net by which the elect of God were drawn from the waves of perdition to the shore of eternal life. Jesus Christ assembled His disciples around Him on the beach, by the seaside, and they dined together from the fish which they had taken. Then, when this mysterious meal, the parting banquet of Jesus and His disciples, was finished, the Lord exacted from St. Peter three times a profession of his love, and of his peculiar love--a love greater than that of the other Apostles. "Simon Peter, lovest thou Me more than these?" And thrice He gave him the solemn charge: "Feed My lambs. ... Feed My lambs. ... Feed My sheep." In these words, Jesus Christ evidently committed not one or the other portion of His flock, but His entire flock, all His people, the universal Church throughout the world, to his pastoral care. The expression, "Feed My lambs--feed My sheep," indicates much more than simply to give them their food, namely, by teaching salutary doctrine. Two different words are used in the original Greek, [Greek text]; which is literally in Latin, __Pasce in cibo, agnos meos__--Feed My lambs. {210} But after using this expression, which indicates the tender and paternal care of the pastoral office, He uses another expressing its authority, [Greek text]; this signifies, as a learned theologian (Perrone) remarks, __pascere cum imperio, pascere præsidendo__, to feed by ruling, to feed by presiding, or to feed, rule, and preside over at the same time, as a shepherd over his flock. This is in accordance with the usage of ancient writers and the Scriptures. In Homer and other ancient authors, kings are called shepherds or pastors, and __poimaine__, feed, signifies to rule or exercise kingly authority. In these words, then, Jesus Christ constituted St. Peter chief pastor and supreme ruler over His universal flock--sheep and lambs together; not merely the lambs, who represent the laity, but the sheep, those to whom the lambs are subject, and by whom they are fed--that is, the bishops and pastors of the Church. It is in vain that the enemies of St. Peter's chair exert all their ingenuity to escape the force of these passages. They are too plain and clear to be evaded, and, after centuries of exertion to heave the Rock of Peter out of the Scriptures, there it stands, an immovable and unquestionable fact that the Rock of Peter is the foundation of the Catholic Church, that the Catholic Church is built on the Rock of Peter, that Peter received the keys of heaven from Jesus Christ, and was constituted by Him chief pastor over His universal flock. {211} And here allow me to remark how singular it is that Protestants should be ready to build up with out hesitation a vast pyramid of doctrine on the narrow foundation of a few texts of Scripture, and at the same time reject the most clear and unequivocal statements of the New Testament. For example, they will most positively assert the transfer of the Sabbath from Saturday to Sunday, because the word Lord's Day is once used, and the assembling of the faithful on the first day of the week is once casually mentioned, although nothing is said of their being an observance of divine obligation intended to supersede the Sabbath. They will prove the baptism of infants from the circumcision of Jewish children, and from the fact that some entire families were baptized, although there is no evidence that there were any infants in these families. Some will prove Episcopacy, and others Presbyterianism, and others Congregationalism, from the Scriptures. And yet they will reject without hesitation the evidence of the supremacy of Peter, which is so clear that even some Protestants are forced to admit it in a partial sense; and the celebrated Jewish infidel Salvador, a man who perhaps excels all the modern advocates of infidelity in perspicacity of intellect and ingenuity of reasoning, declares with out hesitation that the supremacy of the See of St. Peter is an institution of Jesus Christ, and an essential part of Christianity. {212} It is one among many proofs that those who profess to make the Bible their only rule do not really derive their doctrine from a candid examination of the Scriptures; but that they receive what they have been taught by their parents and religious teachers, and search the Scriptures to find proof and confirmation of these doctrines. Thus, each one, in stead of conforming his belief to the Scripture, bends the Scripture into conformity with his belief. Those parts of the Scripture which are not easily bent into this conformity remain to him a dead letter, they make no impression on his mind, and, no matter how clear and plain they may be, he forgets them if he can, and, if he is forced to pay attention to them, he explains them away. Thus it has been with the passages of the New Testament which prove so clearly the supremacy of St. Peter. There is nothing in the New Testament more clear, more plain, more explicit, more obvious, than this supremacy; when these various passages have been once collated, placed in juxtaposition with each other, carefully examined and reflected on, and confronted with the great fact of the perpetual existence of the supremacy of the Roman Pontiffs as the acknowledged successors of St. Peter. This last topic I have not directly considered in this discourse, but have reserved it for another. {213} Nevertheless, whoever will attentively consider what is involved in the very idea of St. Peter's supremacy will see at once that this supremacy must be, by its very nature, perpetual. It was made the foundation of a perpetual structure; it extended over all bishops and all the faithful, without any limit of time or place; it provided for the exercise of that power of the keys which is necessary in all ages; and it was made the means of keeping the rulers of the Church in unity of faith under the severest assaults of Satan, which are undoubtedly those of the last days of the world. Our Lord in establishing the supremacy of St. Peter gave to His Church a constitution and a government. He placed His kingdom under one monarchical head. He made the sacerdotal hierarchy subject to one chief. This law must therefore last as long as the Church lasts, that is, through all time. There is no power which can change the divine law of our Lord. The supremacy of St. Peter must therefore be perpetual in his successors. And that these successors are the Roman Pontiffs I shall proceed to show in my next discourse. ---------------------------- {214} Sermon XIV. The Roman Pontiffs The Successors Of St. Peter. St. Matt. xvi. 18. "__And I say to thee: That thou art Peter; and upon this Rock I will build My Church__." I have proved in a former discourse that St. Peter was constituted Prince of the Apostles and Vicar of Jesus Christ, with supreme jurisdiction over the Catholic Church, by the Lord Himself. It remains now to show that this supremacy was given also to the successors of St. Peter, and that the Bishops of Rome are his successors, and consequently inherit his supremacy. That the Holy, Catholic, Apostolic, Roman Church is the See of St. Peter, and the Mother and Mistress of Churches; and that the Bishop of Rome is the Vicar of Christ, and Supreme Visible Head of the Church--this is what I now undertake to prove. {215} This is proved, in the first place, by an argument, the force of which is admitted in all courts of law, viz., the argument of __prescription__. The Roman Church is in possession of this claim, and has been from time immemorial. A claim on a certain property or to a certain right, which is so ancient that the mind of man runneth not to the contrary, is always admitted as valid in a law court. Now, it is evident that the Roman Church now asserts this claim; that she asserted it before the Reformation; that she asserted it before the Greek schism; and that not a single Church exists in the world which has not at some time admitted this claim, and submitted to it. If we go back, then, to the earlier centuries, we find the Roman Church always in possession of this supremacy, and we can never find its beginning. Protestants and others, who wish to prove that it began after the Apostolic age, can never agree together as to the epoch of the rise of the Papal power, although all give it a very early date. Now, I say that, according to all sound principles of reasoning, the fact that this claim had been made and assented to from time immemorial is a certain proof that it is just. It could not have been established so early and so universally without violence and without resistance, unless it existed under the Apostles, and was established by them in the infancy of Christianity. {216} Just as it would be impossible for the Governor of Virginia to take peaceable possession of the Presidential chair and govern the United States, as its acknowledged chief magistrate, without any election of the people; so it would have been equally impossible for the Bishop of Rome to make himself peaceably the supreme ruler of the Catholic Church, unless he were appointed by St. Peter and the Apostles, according to the divine constitution of the grand Christian commonwealth, with the knowledge of all Christians. This argument alone would be perfectly conclusive, even if the New Testament were altogether lost, or were entirely silent on the subject. But when we compare the fact that the Roman Church, under the name of the See of St. Peter, has always existed as the principal edifice of a vast agglomeration of smaller but similar edifices, with the prophecy of Christ that He would build the Church on the Rock of Peter, the conclusion is irresistible that the fact is the fulfilment of the prophecy. Here is the prophecy of Christ, that He would build His Church on Peter as a foundation, and that the gates of hell should not prevail against it. There is the Roman Church, evidently built on Peter as its foundation, which has endured through eighteen centuries, and is now as firm and immovable as ever. It is impossible to escape the conclusion that this is the Church built by Christ. The fact corresponds exactly with the prophecy, and there is no other fact which does, therefore the fact is the fulfilment of the prophecy. {217} Let me illustrate this by a comparison. Suppose you describe the Moro of Havana to some one who has never seen it, and who is about taking a voyage to Cuba. You tell him it is a castle of large size and great strength, built on a rock which rises perpendicularly from the sea, at the mouth of the bay. There is no castle similar to it: on his route. Now, when this traveller comes on deck some morning, and sees a castle founded on a rock at the mouth of a harbor, with a large city in the distance, is it not evident that this is the Moro? If you sail from the city of New York, knowing that there is an American ship of the line anchored in the bay, and you pass a large man-of-war with the United States flag, and the broad pennant of an admiral flying at her mast-head, is it not evident that this is the ship in question? Though a hundred smaller vessels are anchored in the vicinity, you cannot hesitate a moment, you can not for an instant imagine that any of these is a man-of-war. The first glance tells you which is the line-of-battle ship, for there is only one which makes any pretension to that character, which has the size, the armament, or in any aspect the appearance of a man-of-war. {218} Precisely so it is with the Roman Church, which professes to be the See of Peter, the only one which bases a claim of universal jurisdiction on the supremacy of Peter; which pretends [puts forward a claim] to be the ship of Peter, and to bear his standard. It is unique, unrivalled, and alone in its character and claims. It must be, then, that Church which the Lord promised to build on the rock of Peter, with such immovable firmness that all the assaults of hell could never overthrow it; it must be that Church which the Lord committed to the guidance of Peter, and which is destined to outride all the storms of time. But, although I consider that the claim of the Roman Church to supremacy is fully proved by this argument from prescription, I will not confine myself to it, but proceed to adduce some positive testimonies. The perpetuity of St. Peter's supremacy in the Church can be clearly proved from Scripture, and the fact that the Bishops of Rome have inherited this supremacy is not only evident from the fact that no other supremacy has ever existed, but from a clear chain of historical facts and evidences, running back to the very age of the Apostles. In the first place, it is clear from the Scripture that St. Peter's supremacy was to continue. A number of the ablest Protestant writers have proved most conclusively what is called the Apostolic succession, that is, that Bishops are the successors of the Apostles, tracing their authority and descent in an unbroken line of ordination to the Apostles. This is perfectly evident from the commission of Jesus Christ to the eleven Apostles: {219} "Going therefore teach ye all nations: baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world." [Footnote 82] [Footnote 82: Matt. xxviii. 19.] [USCCB: Matt. xxviii. 19-20.] If the Apostles by virtue of the commission of Jesus Christ were the perpetual pastors of the Church, and enjoy the perpetual presence of Jesus Christ to the end of time, the Apostolic office is by its own nature perpetual in the Church, and the original Apostles have been succeeded by others. For the same reason, the office of Prince of Apostles must be perpetual. The plenitude of the Apostleship was given to St. Peter alone, under the similitude of the keys, and afterwards the same power was given to the others by participation and in subordination to him. The supremacy of the chief enters, then, into the primary constitution of the Apostolate or Catholic Episcopate, as one of its essential and component parts, and is therefore perpetual. Jesus Christ committed the government of His Church to one supreme Ruler, whose authority was signified by the symbol of the keys. He committed His flock to one chief Pastor, when He said to St. Peter: "Feed my lambs--feed my sheep." {220} If, therefore, the authority of St. Peter expired with his person, then a total and fundamental change took place after his death in the constitution and government of the Church, a supposition not to be admitted for one moment without clear evidence. But there is none such. On the contrary, our Lord declares without distinction or limitation that "there shall be one fold and one shepherd." [Footnote 83] [Footnote 83: John x. 16.] The metaphor of a foundation which He uses to express the supremacy of St. Peter, of itself shows the perpetuity of his office. This supremacy is the Rock on which the Church is built. But a foundation must last as long as the building itself; it can neither be removed nor changed; therefore the supremacy of Peter must endure with the Church itself. Again, the reason for which Christ instituted the Primacy exists always, and, indeed, demands much more imperatively its continuance than it did require at first its foundation. The reason is thus expressed by St. Jerome: "__Ut capite constituto, schismatis tolleretur occasio__"--"That a head being constituted, the occasion of schism might be removed." [Footnote 84] [Footnote 84: Lib. i. adv. Jov. 26.] {221} The preservation of unity was the reason for instituting the primacy. What is the reason of a central government, with a president at its head, in Washington? The preservation of unity among the States. It is the unanimous teaching of tradition that Christ established the Primacy in the Church for the same reason--the preservation of unity among all particular churches and Bishops, by their dependence on one Mother Church and one Chief Bishop. But there was far less necessity to guard against schism, and to watch over the preservation of unity by means of a head or central authority, in the days of the Apostles, who were all saints and inspired, in the days of persecution, of primitive zeal and piety, and when the members of the Church were few and her extent limited, than at any subsequent period. The Primacy was more necessary after the Apostolic age than during it, therefore it was intended to continue. The supremacy of St. Peter once admitted--and it is proved by invincible arguments--the continuance of this power in his successors follows necessarily. The seat of power is the Roman Church, of which St. Peter was the founder and first Bishop. This requires no proof; for the Bishop of Rome is the only one who claims the power of St. Peter, and his title is admitted by all those who admit any supremacy in the Church, according to the universally received tradition. {222} St. Peter, after having preached in different regions without having fixed himself in any particular see, for about six years, founded the Patriarchal See of Antioch, which he governed for seven years, and then, having consecrated another Bishop in his place, went to Rome, where he fixed his See permanently, and, having presided over it for twenty-five years, was crucified, in the year of our Lord 67 or 68, under Nero; St. Paul being at the same time beheaded. The New Testament contains no regular or complete history of the events of the Apostolic Age, but only some fragmentary annals of some of the acts of the Apostles, chiefly of St. Paul, and some allusions in the Epistles. It is not surprising, therefore, that it gives no account of the foundation of the Roman Church. St. Paul, however, in his celebrated Epistle to the Roman Church, already speaks of that Roman Faith, "__fides Romana__" which has been in every age so admirable and so renowned throughout the world: "First, I give thanks to my God, through Jesus Christ, for you all, because your faith is spoken of in the whole world." [Footnote 85] He also predicts the future greatness of the Roman Church: "And the God of peace crush Satan under your feet speedily." [Footnote 86] This is a form of speech which expresses a prediction under the form of a prayer. [Footnote 85: Rom. i. 18.] [USCCB: Rom. i. 8.] [Footnote 86: Rom. xvi. 20.] {223} Now, how was Satan crushed under the feet of the Roman Christians, if it were not when, by the conversion and victory of Constantine, this great capital of the world and seat of idolatry was changed into the capital of Christendom, the heathen temples transformed into Christian churches, and the cross everywhere erected in triumph over this proud and pagan city? There is no event in history better established than the episcopate and martyrdom of St. Peter at Rome. It is admitted by a great number of the most learned Protestants. It is proved by the catalogues of Roman Bishops in ancient writers all tracing back the succession to St. Peter. It is proved by pictures, statues, and other ancient monuments; by the pilgrimages which from ancient times were made to the tomb of the Apostles, of which even Eusebius in the fourth century makes mention. It is proved by the testimony of St. Clement, the immediate successor of St. Peter; St. Ignatius, Papias, St. Dionysius, St. Irenæus, Caius, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, St. Cyprian, Eusebius, Lactantius, St. Athanasius, St. Epiphanius, Julian the Apostate, St. Augustine, Palladius, and others. Indeed, any one who would dispute the fact, that the Bishops of Rome have succeeded each other in that see in a direct line from St. Peter, might as well dispute the succession of the Roman emperors from Julius Cæsar, of the English kings from Alfred, and the kings of France from Charlemagne. {224} The fact that the Bishops of Rome succeeded also to the supremacy of St. Peter over the whole Catholic Church is also proved by a crowd of testimonies in every age. It is, as every one will see, not convenient, in a discourse like the present, to cite and explain at length those passages from the ancient writers, especially after having already taxed your patience so severely. I will therefore cite only a few passages as samples of the manner in which ancient writers have spoken on this subject, and leave it to yourselves to read over the testimonies more carefully in some of the various works where they are collected. St. Irenæus, Bishop of Lyons, who conversed with the immediate disciples of the apostles, says: "With this Church, on account of the more powerful principality, it is necessary that every Church, that is, the faithful who are in every direction, should agree." [Footnote 87] [Footnote 87: L. iii. c. 3. Kenrick.] Tertullian, about the end of the second century, exclaims: "From no other cause have heresies arisen and schisms sprung up, except from a want of obedience to the priest of God, and because they do not remember that there is one judge for the time being in the Church, in the place of Christ." {225} The great and general Council of Nice, A.D. 325, in one of its canons says: "The Roman Church has always held the Primacy." The Council of Sardica, in a letter to the Pope, says: "This seems excellent and most suitable, that the priests of the Lord from the respective provinces should report to the Head," __i.e.__, to the See of the Apostle Peter. In the fifth century, all the Bishops of the province of Aries, in France, in a letter to Pope Leo, say: "The Holy Roman Church, through the most blessed Peter, Prince of the Apostles, has the principality above all the churches of the world." The grand Council of Chalcedon, where six hundred Bishops were present, mostly from the East, and out of the limits of the particular patriarchate of Rome, when the letter of the same Pope Leo was read, defining the faith of two distinct natures, divine and human, in Christ, exclaimed with one voice, "Peter has spoken by the mouth of Leo." At the beginning of the sixth century, the Bishop of Patara said to the Emperor Justinian: "There may be many sovereigns on the earth; but there is one Pope over all the churches of the universe." Not only Christian bishops and councils speak in this way of the Roman See, but emperors, and even pagans, use the same language. {226} In the year 268, when Paul, Patriarch of Antioch, was condemned of heresy by a council, the pagan Emperor Aurelian directed that the Church of Antioch "should be delivered up to those whom the Bishops of Italy and the Bishop of Rome should appoint." Ammianus Marcellinus, a pagan writer of the fourth century, affirms that "the Bishops of the Eternal City enjoy a greater authority." The Christian Emperor Valentinian, in a decree of the year 455, says: "The merit of the blessed Peter, who is the Prince of priestly order, and the dignity of the Roman city, the authority also of the Synod, strengthened the Primacy of the Apostolic See." These testimonies extend from the sixth back to the second century, when the disciples of the Apostles still lived. They are not merely the testimonies of the Bishops of Rome themselves, or of those who lived in the vicinity and under the immediate influence of Rome, but they are collected from Italy, France, Africa, and the whole Eastern Church, where those great Patriarchs flourished who afterwards renounced their subjection to Rome. Thus, it is evident, from these and a host of similar testimonies, that, during the first six centuries, the Bishops of Rome claimed to exercise the supremacy in the place of Peter, and that this claim was universally acknowledged. {227} This is only a confirmation of the texts of Holy Scripture which I have already cited, and was foreshadowed when Christ chose the bark of St. Peter in preference to the rest, to preach from it to the multitude on the shore. The conversion of nations through missionaries sent by the Pope is Peter superintending the miraculous draught of fishes and drawing them upon the shore. His exercise of authority over patriarchs, bishops, and churches throughout the world is only the fulfilment of the commission, "Feed my lambs--feed my sheep"--be the pastor of my entire flock, the prince of pastors, the Bishop of bishops. The might, the power of the Roman See, is the fulfilment of the prophecy, "On this rock I will build My Church." On the foundation of Peter, the Catholic Church was built, and on this foundation she has ever rested. To Peter was given the power of the keys, of binding and of loosing, and his successors have ever exercised this supreme authority. If time permitted, I should now go on to show that this authority committed to St. Peter and his successors is the same, and equally of divine right in his present glorious successor, Pius IX., as it was in the times of the martyr popes of the first century; that the Roman Church has never failed, never fallen, never forfeited her supremacy, and never will while the world shall stand. But I must waive all further consideration of the attributes and notes of the Catholic Church. At present, I will only allude to the concluding part of our Lord's promise to St. Peter: "The gates of hell shall never prevail against it." {228} Here there is the divine assurance that this rock on which the Church is founded shall stand until the end of the world, and the Church itself, on account of the firmness of its foundation, shall never be overthrown. The supremacy of his successors shall endure until the last day, and that Church which is governed by the successors of St. Peter shall alone continue to be the true Church. The gates of hell shall wage perpetual warfare against it, but in vain. That rock shall remain immovable and impregnable. By this rock it is that Jesus Christ has provided for the preservation of the Faith and for the salvation of the world. Let us recall to mind the object which we had before our minds at the commencement of these discourses: it was to find the sure and immovable basis of the Catholic faith and religion. And how admirable is the provision of Almighty God for this purpose! He has taken the greatest and most powerful city of the earth, the capital of the world; there He has erected the beacon-light of faith; there He has fixed the immovable seat of truth; there He has established the capital city of Christianity, the chief city of His kingdom on earth; there Jesus Christ has placed His Vicar, the pastor and teacher of the world, that Rome, once the mistress of the world by her arms, might rule by her faith as the Mother and Mistress of churches, and that title of the Eternal City which was given her by her pagan soothsayers might be literally fulfilled. {229} Happy those who, amid the storms and winds of error, doubt, and ever-changing doctrine, take refuge within the walls of the Eternal City; whose faith is built not upon the shifting sands of private judgment, but on the immovable basis of church authority; whose wanderings terminate, like those of St. Paul, at Rome, whence, like him, they ascend to that celestial city whose builder and maker is God! Such a person is like the wise man of whom our Lord speaks, "that built his house upon a rock, and the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house, and it fell not; FOR IT WAS FOUNDED UPON A ROCK." --------------------- {230} Sermon XV. The Thought Of Heaven. (For The Fourth Sunday After Easter.) Heb. iv. 9. "__There remaineth therefore a rest for the people of God__." These words, my dear brethren, are full of consolation to each and every one of us. They lift our minds, at this Paschal season, far away from this earth, and fix them in contemplation on that happy land, the heavenly Jerusalem, where there is no sorrow, no pain, no sickness, and no death; they take us with the beloved disciple to see that celestial country, the city of God, in which stands the tree of life, and where flows the river of life, beside whose banks are seated all those who have died in the Lord, and rest from their labors. They open those pearly gates to allow us to behold the white-robed army of saints who stand before the Lamb; and we can almost hear their anthems of praise, set to music which no human heart can conceive of, that swell the courts of heaven with the celestial cry of, "Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God Almighty, who was, and who is, and who is to come!" {231} Heaven, a rest after the toils of life are over! Heaven, a reward for fidelity! Oh! how good is the thought of heaven! How necessary to many as a stimulant to practise virtue and persevere therein! What a reward for a good life! The thought of heaven is very good, for it encourages us when we grow faint-hearted; the thought of heaven is that which prompts a man to abstain from evil and do good, because he knows that heaven will be his reward, and the loss of it his punishment. It is necessary; for, without this thought being before the mind of a Christian, he might give way to many an enticing temptation. It is far more meritorious, also, than the thought of hell, just as an act of __contrition__ is more meritorious than an act of __attrition__; for the former excites us to sorrow for having offended a good God, who has created us for heaven, and the latter excites us to fear lest we incur the displeasure of an angry God and be condemned to hell. The Holy Church, as a stimulant to the doing of good, as an encouragement to persevere under many difficulties and temptations, and as a reward for all our labors in saving our souls, ever keeps the thought of heaven before our minds. In the Sacraments she does this. {232} The unregenerate cannot go to heaven because there is an obstacle--original sin; it is removed in Baptism; and the strength to fight in the spiritual warfare, is given by Confirmation. She calls us to Confession, because something is again between the soul and heaven, and that is mortal sin. She absolves us, and sends us to Holy Communion, which is a foretaste of heaven. She anoints the dying, that all the peculiar temptations which attack them in the hour of death may be overcome. She unites the "children of the saints" in Matrimony, because marriage is a sign of the union of heaven and earth, and gives the grace for the married couple to "marry in the Lord." She ordains her clergy, that they may teach the way to heaven, and distribute all those means of grace that are sure to bring us there. So you perceive that this seems to be the leading thought in the mind of the Church. It is the development of the response to the question that every Catholic child can answer--Why did God create you? "That I might know Him, and love Him, and serve Him here in this world, and be happy with Him for ever in the next." The thought of heaven conveys the greatest consolation to those who in this world find but little happiness, and are surrounded by peculiar difficulties in the practice of virtue. It gives strength to those who grow tired of the spiritual life, and who would give up were it not for this thought. Hence the thought of heaven is good, necessary, and comforting. {233} The rest spoken of in the text is not for all, but only for the people of God. Who are the people of God? They are the people of God who are baptized and made members of the Catholic Church. But not all will enter into that rest prepared for them, because something more is necessary than simply being called by that name. Baptism is a sacrament which requires those whom it admits to be __heirs__ of the kingdom of heaven, first to answer certain questions, and imposes certain obligations to be observed. The priest says to the person to be baptized, "If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments, love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." So you see that, at this very instant, the thought of heaven is suggested to the person, and the way to arrive there is clearly shown. And, before the priest pours the sanctifying water on the brow of the person, he says, "Dost thou renounce Satan and all his works and all his pomps?" When the person promises, "Yes, I do renounce them," then baptism is administered, and that person takes his place in the world a Christian. But not all who are called Christians are Christians indeed. Many do not live as though they believed in a God, a church, a heaven, or a hell. {234} They follow the inclinations of their own sinful hearts, and live up to the false maxims of this wicked world. They do not walk according to the Spirit, but rather according to the flesh. They look on life as something to be enjoyed to the utmost, and when that is ended they consider all ended, body and soul. Ah! foolish people! who thus deceive themselves, who are ashamed of the religion of Jesus Christ, who violate without any remorse their baptismal vows, who treat our Lord far worse than did the Jews of old, for they never professed to believe in Him. The way, then, to be a Christian in deed as well as in name is to live up to that "perfect law of liberty," that law which was made and given by God, which allows the highest kind of freedom to its observers, and which ennobles and elevates man rather than degrades him. This law is simple, and, if it is observed, all things will go on peaceably. As of old, the saying was, "All are not Israelites that are of Israel," [Footnote 88] so they are not heirs of the kingdom of heaven who do not walk in the path marked out for them to follow, or who do not fulfil the conditions required for a holy life. "Not every one that says to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven: but he that doeth the will of My Father who is in heaven." [Footnote 89] [Footnote 88: Rom. ix. 6.] [Footnote 89: St. Matt. vii. 21.] {235} And that will is made known to us all by the Catholic Church. She is the ark that will bring us safe to the haven of rest. She sets herself in array against the powers of this world and wicked men, because she is holy; she is born of God, and divine; she does this by her sacraments, her sacrifices, her laws, instructions, missions, and her institutions of charity. She teaches men reverence for holy persons and holy things; she teaches them to venerate the name of their Creator; she tells them to sanctify Sundays and holydays; she enjoins, under pain of eternal death--which includes the loss of heaven--honesty, justice, purity, sobriety, and all the other requirements of the decalogue. She is not conformed to this world or its ways. The world says: "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." "If your enemy strike you, strike him back; if he calumniate you, never forget it; if he do you an act of injustice, if he slander you, treasure it up, do not forgive, but pay him back some day with interest." The world says: "Eat and drink, grow rich in this world's goods, have a gay time, make the most of life: heaven is far away, and you will have opportunity to prepare when the time comes for it." "Make plenty of money," says the world, "no matter whether the business be just or lawful, you may get to heaven after all; others worse than you have had time to do penance before they died." {236} But the Holy Church says differently. She enjoins charity, meekness, poverty of spirit, preparation for death. "If thine enemy hunger, give him to eat; if he thirst, give him to drink." [Footnote 90] "If a man strike thee on one cheek, turn to him the other." [Footnote 91] "Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." [Footnote 92] These are her lessons of heavenly doctrine, which all must learn and put in practice, if they would obtain entrance into the kingdom of heaven. And every day she writes in letters of fire before our eyes: "In the hour that ye think not, the Son of Man cometh." [Footnote 90: Rom. xii. 20.] [Footnote 91: St. Matt. v. 39.] [Footnote 92: St. Matt. v. 3.] So we perceive that man needs to pay attention to that immortal soul of his just as much as to attend to his mortal body. And a man cannot attend to a business of importance in a short time, of which he has been ignorant all his life, and in which he has had no practice, and therefore very little experience. It would be a difficult task, indeed, for a man who has been nothing but a salesman in a store all his life, to become a scientific artificer, or to undertake to discharge the duties that devolve on a professor of the higher branches of science, because he has never given any thought or study to these things. So will it be very, very difficult for that Catholic to properly prepare for heaven after long years of neglect of the means to obtain it, and, because he has never thought about it, it will be hardly possible for him in his last hours to make proper preparation for it. {237} The mind will be so absorbed with the past, and so perplexed as to the future, that he cannot give his famishing soul the nourishment that it needs. The death-bed scenes of worldly-minded men certify to the truth of this. They have viewed heaven as something to be thought about in the future, and intended to prepare for it, but all of a sudden sickness prostrates them, and when told they will never hear another sermon, never attend another Mass, the trouble begins not so much about their soul as about their body and the business of this world. But thanks be to God! while there are those who are walking on that broad and pleasant way which many, too many, find, and which leads to destruction, there are many faithful Christians who, even though some of them have but little or no comfort here, are looking forward, and hastening unto that reward which awaits those who love our Lord Jesus Christ. Heaven, to them, is no gloomy word. Heaven does not make them regret leaving this world, with all its fleeting joys, for heaven is a most interesting and important subject to them. Heaven is the reason of all their hopes, the reward of all their prayers, fastings, and other good works. {238} To the pious and virtuous, the thought of heaven is the polar star which guides them to their eternal happiness, To the poor and desolate, it opens the celestial country where flow milk and honey, and where the foot is never weary, where all tears are wiped away from their eyes, and where the sweetest consolation of an eternal reward awaits them. The thought of heaven brings the young to give their hearts early to God. It leads them to their first Confession, and encourages them to make their first Communion, so that, by keeping God's holy laws, they may receive the crown of life. The thought of heaven helps the old, who are weak and trembling, for they receive new strength when they see the evening of their lives, and view the dawning of that happy land, the Canaan of the children of God. How comforting, indeed, then, is the thought of heaven, for then all our hopes will be realized, and our love made perfect! O you who thirst for human love! your desire is to love and be loved. Love is the object of your life, the light of your hearts; but know this: that no earthly love will ever bring you perfect happiness; and if it should so happen that you should find a joy in possessing some creature, tell me, how long will that joy last? Not long, for God sends death, and He takes away the objects of your love, the idol that you have placed between Him and your soul. {239} A mother finds the greatest joy in beholding the child to whom she gave birth. It may be her first-born; she loves it, caresses it; she spends days in caring for it, and, if at night she awakes, the first thought is of that child: but some day death comes in, and lays his icy hand on the life-strings of its tiny heart, and severs the link that binds it to this life, and it is no more. But the Christian mother willingly gives it up to God, for she knows that in heaven she will again embrace that child. It is the thought of heaven that brings her consolation. A friend has found unspeakable joy in living with his companion, they were boys together, they grew up together, they received the Holy Sacraments together, and, just as they suppose their happiness to be complete, death terminates the existence of one, and the other is left alone to learn the lesson all men must, sooner or later, learn--all persons, all things are perishable, and "the heart," as St. Augustine says, "is at unrest until it rests in God." No matter what bereavement comes over the Christian, he is animated with hope, and his joy speedily returns when he thinks of heaven as a place where he will meet and recognize his loved ones. Here, my dear brethren, we grow tired of the most costly and beautiful objects. It is impossible for us to keep up our enthusiasm for a long time, as we are creatures of change and chance. {240} In heaven, we shall never grow tired; for, in beholding Almighty God and all the glories of heaven, we shall be so entranced that nothing will be able to distract us. In heaven, time will pass away unnoticed, and its events will have no power to weary us. There is a beautiful legend told of a Franciscan friar, which will illustrate my meaning better. He thought that he would become tired of heaven itself and its occupations; for by his time of life he, too, had learned the secret that nothing in this world can bring real, lasting happiness. So, one day, his superior sent him out to gather fuel for the fire. As he was picking up the wood, he heard a far sweeter warble than ever came from the throat of a bird; but it was not a bird of the earthly forest; it was some sweet strains of celestial music that he heard. He must pause one moment to hear the end of the song before making up his bundle of wood. So he stood still, and the warbling went on, so full, so sweet, so rich, that he almost held his breath in ecstasy. When it ceased, "How short it was!" he said, then picked up the arm-load of sticks and returned to the monastery. He rang the bell at the gate, but a brother came whom he did not know. "Who are you that takes the place of Brother John?" he inquired. "But rather who are you?" was the reply. {241} "Ah, I am Brother Francis." "Brother Francis! There is no Brother Francis." Then the oldest monk in the monastery was called, and he tottered in on his cane, and told how, when he was a boy, he had heard some old gray-haired monks tell that, long, long ago, when they were young, Brother Francis had gone, one afternoon, for wood, and never returned: killed doubtless by the wild beasts. So they counted the years, and found that Brother Francis had listened to the bird's song one hundred and fifty years, and thought that too short. Now, if the sweet singing from the voice of an angel could so entrance this holy man that he thought so many years to be but a moment, how much more will our soul be enraptured with the sight of heaven, with the song of the choir of the redeemed, and by the vision of the Blessed Trinity! In heaven, the heart will stand still, and in the fulness of its joy remain transfixed for ever. Then why is it that we give way under our sufferings, our daily trials and crosses? Why do so many grow faint-hearted, and think that there is no rest, no peace, for them? Why do people despair of ever being happy? It is because they forget the very object for which they were created. They lose sight of the eternal joy and the unending happiness that God has prepared for those who love Him. {242} At Holy Mass, whether it be a festival, fast, or funeral, these sublime words are sung by the sacrificing priest at the altar, "__Sursum corda__"--"Lift up your hearts," and the faithful answer, "__Habemus ad Dominum__"--"We have lifted them up to the Lord." Now, these words are kept before our minds, on a festival, to remind us of the eternal joys of heaven; on a funeral, to call our attention to that home above where there is no death, no parting, and where all tears are wiped away from the eyes. Then let "__Sursum corda__" when it is sung this morning, revive this thought of heaven in your hearts--you who are sad, who are sick and poor, you who are in the midst of severe temptations; and carry these words with you through the week, and, whenever you are tempted to murmur against your lot, "Lift up your hearts." Think of Paradise. We were made for Paradise, and we ought always to remember how joyful the thought of Paradise is to the Christian's heart. "O most happy mansion of the city above! O most happy and bright day, that knows no night, but is always enlightened by the Sovereign Truth! The citizens of heaven know how joyful that day is; but the banished children of Eve lament that this our day is bitter and tedious. Oh! that this day would dawn upon us, and all temporal things would come to an end!" {243} Then, at this time, let us all look up, and be more vigilant in the service of God while on earth. Let us so live here that our lives may be a foretaste of heaven. Let the Church on earth be the vestibule of heaven in which we wait patiently for the time of our admission therein. Let us be faithful to the laws of God and the Church: "Laying aside every weight and the sin that doth so easily beset us, by patience let us run the race set before us; looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith, who, having the joy proposed to Him, underwent the cross, despising the shame, and now sitteth down at the right hand of the throne of God," [Footnote 93] to whom let us lift up our hearts, and offer that beautiful prayer which the Holy Church is chanting throughout the world on this Fourth Sunday after Easter: "O Almighty God, who alone canst make the faithful to be of one mind: grant that they may love those things which Thou dost command and desire, those things which Thou dost promise, that so among all the changes of this world their hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found, through Jesus Christ our Lord Amen." [Footnote 93: Heb xii. i.] ------------- {244} Sermon XVI. The Clergy The Teachers Of The People, (For The Seventh Sunday After Pentecost.) St. Matt. vii. 15. "__Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.__" By the word prophet is meant a teacher or leader of the people; any one who sets himself up, or is commissioned by those in authority, as an expounder of the sense of the Scriptures, or of the principles of morality or of religion, so as to lead others to adopt his opinions, and act according to his directions. The office of prophet, or teacher, is the most important of all in human society. For, if we are rightly taught and follow the teaching, everything goes on harmoniously, and conduces to the best result; the greatest amount of substantial happiness in this world, and the securing of our immortal destiny in heaven. If we are wrongly taught, our great blessings are turned into curses, and our lives are failures, both for this world and the next. {245} And our Lord Jesus Christ took especial pains to provide for this great need of ours. He selected His twelve Apostles, kept them with Himself during all the time of His public ministry, instructed them by word and example, and sent them out to teach with this full and explicit commission, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature, teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and lo I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world." [Footnote 94] [Footnote 94: St. Mark xvi. 15 and St. Matt, xxviii. 20.] If we desire to know them who are the true prophets, we have the means of finding out: they are the lawful successors of the Apostles, the priesthood of the Holy Church. And, on the other hand, we have the means of determining who are the false prophets or teachers: all those who are in opposition to this lawful body of teachers, commissioned by God Himself to teach us. The priesthood of the Holy Church, then, are our teachers in the principles and practice of religion, and of morality, which is embraced in religion. They are the ones to teach us our duty, in all respects, as individuals, and as members of society; our duties to ourselves, to our fellow-men, to our families, to the government or state in which we live, as well as to God. {246} This is what many people do not seem to understand. They say, Let the clergy confine themselves to their own sphere, to the teaching of religion, and let other things alone. Why should they meddle with questions of politics or government? Why should they interfere with private or family affairs? Why should they say anything about a man's business, or try to interfere with his personal liberty to do this or that? Now, whence do these objections arise? From the mistaken notion that religion deals exclusively with the relations of the individual to his God, and has nothing to do with society or government; that there is divorce between politics and religion; that the law of God is separable from human laws. Nothing can be more untrue than this idea. The divine law is the rule according to which all human laws must be conformed. These laws derive all their authority and sanction from the divine will. Religion cannot be divorced from politics, from government, from legislature, from the family, from business, or from any of the affairs of life. Wherever a moral question is involved in politics, there religion is involved. Every Christian is bound to carry the law of Christ into his politics. {247} Every voter is bound to vote for those who sustain this divine law, and never for the opponents of it; and every legislator is bound not to make any law which is in opposition to it. And the authorized teachers of the divine law are the ones to expound what the law is, and to lay down the duty of each one in reference to it. They are to teach, and to insist upon the observance of what Christ has taught them: in the state, the duty of obedience to the civil authority, and the wickedness of resisting it, in the lawful exercise of its power;--in the family, the sacredness of the marriage-tie, in spite of any human laws contrary to God's law, and the obligation of the religious education of children;--to the individual, the sin of unlawful or immoral combinations, and many other things which will readily suggest themselves to any one who will reflect. Those, then, who try to depreciate the influence of the clergy, and to bring their teaching into contempt, or to set themselves up as independent judges of the morality and right of all questions relating to politics and society, are false prophets, boasting of their liberty, appealing to pride, worshipping themselves in place of God, and flattering the passions of others. They are ravening wolves, destroying the spirit of religion and the souls of men, and leading their victims to anarchy, riot, and bloodshed. {248} Do not misapprehend my meaning. I do not mean that the clergy should come down into the arena of party politics to advocate the claims of this or that candidate for office, or convert the Church into a political debating-room. Thank God, they have a better idea of their sacred office than that. But where the duties of the individual or the general interests of religion are involved, they are bound to speak out, and they should be listened to as the ambassadors of God. "Let the clergy mind their own business," is sometimes said. Well, and what is the business of the clergy? It is to seek the salvation of souls. It is to keep the people, as far as possible, from any violation of the commandments of God; from the commission of sin, which leads to the destruction of souls. If they can foresee that this or that course of action will involve their people in sin, they are bound, disregarding all self-interest or any worldly consideration, to raise their voice in protest against it. If the people rush into any unlawful combination, which, perhaps, involves loss of property or loss of life, or, at any rate, is sinful and tends to the destruction of the soul, then, whether the thing is popular or not, they are bound, as far as they can, to set their face against this evil, and warn the people to keep from it. {249} If they do not do this, then they do not "mind their own business." They are no better than the "hirelings who flee when the wolf cometh." But why are the clergy especially fitted to exercise this office of prophet or teacher? Because, in the first place, they are, as a class, men of education and thought. They have withdrawn from other pursuits, and passed many years in study. They have had particularly to study questions relating to morality; of right and wrong; of the meaning of the law of God, and are better fitted than any other class of men to give decisions on such questions. This is reason enough why the mass of the people, who have not the time, the freedom from other occupations, the books, or the habit of reasoning correctly, should defer with great respect to the opinion of the clergy on any important question. It argues a great want of humility--an antichristian and unreasonable pride, when their opinion is treated with contempt and brought into ridicule. In the second place, they are disinterested parties, and are able to decide, for the most part, free from prejudice. The only prejudice they can have is, that God's law be observed and His honor vindicated. They are a body of men independent, free from family ties, and cares, and obligations; freed in an unusual degree from what prejudices other men--the desire of heaping up wealth. In short, they have every inducement to love right and hate wrong. {250} Thirdly, they are the fathers of their people. Having no wives or children of their own, the people are their children. The term "father" by which they are addressed is a true expression of the feeling which the people have towards them, because they have a truly parental affection for them. That priest must be a monster who does not love his people, as a general thing so devoted and affectionate to him. Our Saviour says, "The good shepherd will lay down his life for his sheep." The Catholic people are the flock of the priest; it is his business and his happiness to look out for their interests; to advise them and warn them of dangers; to go after them and bring them back when they go astray; and it is only natural for them to look up to him for advice, for counsel in doubt, for consolation in trouble. There is no sweeter or more beautiful tie than that which binds the priest and people together. But lastly, and above all, the priest is the representative and agent of Jesus Christ. This last reason includes and carries with it all the others; they all grow out of it. Hear what St. Paul says: "And some he gave to be apostles, and some prophets, and some evangelists, and others pastors and teachers. {251} For the perfection of the saints, for the edification of the body of Christ." [Footnote 95] All that relates to the building up or edification of the faithful belongs to their sacred office. In the direction of St. Paul to Titus, he tells him: "Admonish them to be subject to princes and powers, to obey at a word, to be ready to every good work." [Footnote 96] And again: "These things speak, and exhort, and rebuke with all authority. Let no man despise thee." [Footnote 97] Once more he says: "Let a man look upon us as the ministers of Christ, and the dispensers of the mysteries of God." [Footnote 98] And when our Lord sent out His Apostles, He used these emphatic words: "He that heareth you heareth Me, and he that despiseth you despiseth Me." [Footnote 95: Eph. iv. 11.] [Footnote 96: Ep. Tit. iii. 1.] [Footnote 97: Ep. Tit. ii. 15.] [Footnote 98: I Cor. iv. 1.] Who are the false prophets we have the most need to be warned against at this present time? Not the professed teachers of heresy, because they are too well known; their doctrine and their principles have lost all attraction for Catholics. Their hatred and opposition to the Holy Church and her doctrines is too violent and untruthful to have any power of attraction for the Catholic heart. I should say they are not wolves in sheep's clothing, but rather wolves in their own skins. No, it is not they. {252} It is rather the irreligious, unprincipled newspapers which are sowing the worst principles broadcast in the community, which are ridiculing all that we hold most sacred, which make all religion to consist in the present and laugh at the future world; which are prating all the time about clerical influence, and extolling a purely secular education; which are talking everlastingly about progress and enlightenment, and this nineteenth century, and the dark ages and superstitions; whose infernal doctrine may be summed up in one sentence: "Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die." These are the false prophets who clothe themselves with sheep's clothing, that is, with professions of liberty, enticements to pleasure, and to the gain of worldly goods, as if there was no hereafter, no responsibility, but each one was free to do as he pleased. And who are some of the other false prophets? They are leaders of secret societies; interested persons who make a living out of professions of patriotism and love of country; who live in luxury--many of them, out of the hard earnings of the poor laborer and the girls at service; who beguile the ignorant into unlawful and forbidden ways, sinking them down deep in mortal sin, and hindering them from getting out of it, because they impose a distrust and dislike of the clergy and of the Church which condemns them. Like the Pharisees, they "move heaven and earth to make one proselyte, and, when they have made one, they make him more a child of hell than themselves." Avoid them, for they are truly "ravening wolves." {253} And lastly, avoid another false prophet within yourself: the spirit of pride and self-will. Without this, all the others I have mentioned above would be powerless to hurt you. This is the very evil one himself who stirs up within you every evil passion. Be cautious, weigh well the thoughts of your hearts. Try them by the standard of the Gospel and of the example of Jesus Christ, and, if they cannot abide the test, no matter how fair an appearance they have, abandon them. Ah! if we would only stop to consider calmly what we are about; if we would only utter one sincere prayer to God for guidance, and to obtain a good-will, this false prophet of self-will would be detected and driven out, and we would be quickly delivered from destruction. Finally, give good heed to the Scripture which says: "Obey your prelates, and be subject to them, for they watch as being to give an account of your souls, that they may do this with joy, and not with grief." {254} Obey the Vicar of Jesus Christ, the Pope, the Head of the Church and Father of the faithful. When he solemnly pronounces his judgment as to the lawfulness or unlawfulness of anything, obey as you would if you heard it from the lips of Christ Himself. It is a fearful thing for any one to put himself in opposition to Christ's Vicar and the Successor of St. Peter, to whom our Lord gave the charge to feed both His sheep and His lambs. Obey your Archbishop, who is more immediately placed over you. It is his place to judge what is for the good of religion, and to foresee the evils likely to arise at any time among ourselves. Let those who disregard his admonition look well to it, lest they implicate themselves in grievous sin, and in inflicting great injury upon the religion of Christ. Such men are a scandal and cause of ruin to the faithful, and our Lord has denounced the anger of God upon those who are guilty of it. Obey your priests, who will have to give an account of your souls. Give no cause of offence or scandal in your parish, but rather co-operate with your fellow-parishioners in the extension of Christ's kingdom upon earth. It is by this spirit of docility and obedience you will break through all the snares of Satan, and be delivered from error. Thus, walking in the clear light of truth, you will finally be united to the Eternal Truth, God, the fountain of all joy, forever. ------------------ {255} Sermon XVII. Humility In Prayer. (For The Tenth Sunday After Pentecost.) St. Luke xviii. 13. "__God, be merciful to me, a sinner.__" One of the chief lessons our blessed Lord intended to teach us by the parable told in to-day's Gospel is the necessity and power of humble prayer. Let us see this, and try to draw some useful thoughts from it. The great positive precept of prayer goes hand in hand with a man's salvation. Nothing can excuse the neglect of it, nothing is promised except through it, and therefore one cannot hope for anything without it. Yet it is not every spirit of prayer that is of God. In spite of a professed total disregard for it by some, nevertheless men have an instinctive faith in prayer. The hardiest blasphemer and scoffer at religion will often be found the first to pray when in imminent danger of death. {256} He prays in fear. Others, with out any spirit of devotion, will be found praying at stated times, like the Pharisee, because it is a highly respectable thing to do, and keeps up their credit and good character, who apparently regard prayer as a sort of business transaction with God, the fulfilment of certain conditions of barter with Providence, by which they may expect to hold their own, and be further well rewarded. These pray in pride. Others are full of themselves and their own desires. __They__ wish to be happy, let others be as miserable as they may. __They__ want no sickness, no accident, no reverse of fortune, no contempt, no temptation, let God try other souls with His chastening hand as He pleases. These pray in selfishness. And yet all these are the first to complain that their prayer is not heard and instantly answered. They become petulant over delay, and utterly discouraged if their desires are not fulfilled. __God's__ will is nothing to them. It is not "Thy will," but "My will" be done. Listen, my brethren, to the true spirit of prayer, the only kind of prayer which will infallibly be heard. It is the prayer of those who pray in humility. The very essence of prayer consists in the acknowledgment of God's supreme dominion and government over us, and our complete dependence upon Him as the source of all blessings, spiritual and temporal. The better this is acknowledged by the soul, the more perfect must be the prayer; and, if this be the spirit which inspires only a few words of prayer, or even a silent aspiration of the heart, then more is accomplished than if hours had been consumed in the recitation of forms of prayer, where this high and reverent thought of God is wanting. {257} Now, this is also the fountain thought of humility: that God is all in all to us, that it is He, and not we ourselves, who has made us, and prospered us, and blessed us, and raised us up, and obtained peace and forgiveness for our erring hearts; that He is the Truth; that the true religion is His making, not what we may fashion to ourselves. These are the thoughts to bring the heart into a proper relation with God, the relation of an humble hope, trust, and reverence for Him, and in this we need lose nothing of a proper and just esteem for ourselves. It is the secret of the making of great saints and heroes in religion (all of whom were renowned for their humility), that a man is always the gainer by just so much as he gives to God. So we see in the case of the humble publican, that God regarded him the more because he did not so much as lift his eyes to heaven. God drew the nearer to him, the farther he stood off. God comforted him, and justified him, the more he acknowledged his own wretchedness, and condemned himself. Not without reason, it is true, because he __was__ a sinner. While he, who was not a sinner, went up in his pride and sinned in his very prayers. The humble sinner went away justified; the proud, just man went away condemned. {258} And hence we may conclude that, if one does not pray in humility, his prayer is of no value, and he moreover runs a great chance of committing sin by praying, and of receiving curses instead of blessings in answer. "God resisteth the proud," says the Apostle, "but giveth grace to the humble." [Footnote 99] He is, as it were, shocked and indignant to see a man approaching him in presumption or pride. He has no grace for such an one, and then without that he will infallibly commit sin and be lost. [Footnote 99: St. James iv. 6.] For what happens? He who prays without humility thinks that he has done a great thing, for which God honors him, and holds him up as an example for the admiration and imitation of others, especially for those who seldom or never go to their knees, or pray so quickly and unobtrusively that no one notices them. So he rises from his prayer puffed up with self-conceit. {259} Look at the Pharisee. He came to the treasure-house of God with a large sack; he extolled its capacity, and stretched it out to its utmost dimensions; he made his prayer long, wordy, and full of self. As he really did not profess himself to be in want of anything, God sent him away, with his sack empty of everything but his own windy words, which God despised and returned to him for his pains. His load was not heavy, and he could walk with head and shoulders proudly erect. As he passed out he gave a scornful glance at the miserable publican, crouching in the porch, and thought within himself: What bad people there are in the world, to be sure! The humble object of his disdain followed him out with bent shoulders and downcast head. He had come empty-handed to God's treasury. But something had passed between him and God which the proud Pharisee little imagined: and he might well go away still humbly bending to the ground, for God's mercies and blessings lay heavily upon him. So sang the humble Virgin: "He hath filled the hungry with good things, but the rich he hath sent empty away." Many imagine that the wealthy are the chief ones who pray like the Pharisee; but this is a great mistake. There are quite as many poor "rich Pharisees" as wealthy rich ones. Being in humble circumstances does not make one humble. The Blessed Virgin did not mean the rich in this world's goods, but those who were rich in their own conceit. {260} So we see many who have not much money to boast of, yet will boast pretty loudly of their piety. They come to pray to God for forgiveness of their sins; and what do they say? "I don't do much. I don't curse. I don't steal. I don't slander my neighbor." And if God did not rouse them up to a sense of the sins they do commit by questioning their consciences, they would go away fully persuaded that they were out-and-out saints, while all the rest of the world were thieves, and liars, and extortioners, and workers of all kinds of iniquity, especially that quarrelsome neighbor who has just taken their place in the confessional, and who, they hope, will meet with severe and righteous treatment. O self-sufficient, rich Pharisee! it is true I have seen you in silk and broadcloth, but I have seen you also in a cotton gown, and a coat out at [the] elbows. Not a few are found lacking in this requisite to make prayer of any value, because they pray in fear. At first sight, fear would seem to be almost identical with humility; but it is quite a far different thing, for humility brings the soul nearer to God, while fear drives it away. Humility recognizes the greatness and goodness of God, and, while it reverences Him, holds Him for that knowledge in the highest esteem; but fear hides itself, and, in place of esteem, holds Him in slavish dread. {261} Humility is hopeful; fear is full of despair. See those sinners who find themselves in shipwreck, or in some imminent danger of death from disease. They pray, it is true, but how? Is it in sorrow for their sins? Do they want to get back the lost love of God? Oh! no; that is the last thought they have. It is to be saved from death; it is to be cured of their diseases; and what does it all amount to, but that they are trying to make a truce with God? Their whole lives have been at enmity with Him; and now, when God compels them to acknowledge Him, when He conquers them and brings them down, it is not peace they want, but a cessation of hostilities. It is plain enough God is the master. Such souls tremble at death, because it is bringing them nearer to God; the humble souls fear life, because it is so full of the danger of losing Him. Such was the prayer of the wicked King Antiochus, who prayed to God and made great promises; but it was only fear that wrung the prayer out of him. He cared for nothing but to be restored to life and health; but God rejected his prayers, and left him to die a horrible death, being eaten up by worms. The Scripture says of him: "Then this wicked man prayed to the Lord, of whom he was not to obtain mercy." [Footnote 100] [Footnote 100: 2 Macc. x. 13.] [USCCB: 2 Maccabees ix. 13.] {262} Now and then the judgments of God hang over sinners. Hell gapes underfoot, and they pray and cry to the Lord for mercy, yet are not heard, because they have no contrition; and are wanting in contrition, because they have no humility. Their fear is the fear of those sinners described by the prophet: "The sinners in Sion are afraid; trembling hath seized upon the hypocrites." [Footnote 101] But the humble soul is not afraid to draw near to God, for the promise encourages it: "An humble and contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise." Such are not afraid, because their contrition is founded on the love of God, and is real and hearty. "Perfect love," says St. John, "casteth out fear." [Footnote 101: Isa. xxxiii. 18.] [USCCB: Isa. xxxiii. 14.] Look at Mary Magdalen. There was an example of boldness in a truly contrite, humble heart. She dared a good deal. Jesus, her Lord, the God of infinite purity, is the honored guest of a wealthy and proud citizen; she, an abandoned woman. Yet she dared enter the rich man's door. She dared the sneers and contempt of the servants. She dared enter the banqueting hall as an unwelcome intruder, at the risk of being ignominiously expelled. She dared approach the Spotless One, and touch His sacred feet with her polluted hands. But perfect love casteth out fear. {263} Her tears were so many eloquent words of prayer that went straight to the heart of Jesus. Her penitent love chased all fear away, and moved the Lord to say of her: "Many sins are forgiven her, because she hath loved much." But the most common want of humility is seen in those who pray in selfishness. Has God seen fit to send them a trial--say, a defect in their hearing or sight, or one of their children is born deformed or sickly--then they act as though the like had never been seen before, so querulous are they under the affliction. They pray--a good long string of complaints--over it. Or else the selfishness takes another shape, and, while they can look with indifference upon hundreds who suffer worse, they cannot bear to have the hand of the Lord touch __them__. They come to beg of the priest to cure them; they come humbly enough in their manner, will go down on their knees, and even kiss the ground, but they have not a particle of humility in their hearts. They are so selfish about their pains and aches that they are quite surprised and vexed if the priest does not profess himself quite ready and able to perform a miracle in their favor; as if the Almighty owed them miracles, or as if they were the only people in the world about whose ease and comfort He was concerned. And then they go away disappointed, giving no heed to the holy words with which the priest tried to teach them to profit by their affliction, and instruct them how to pray to God to be relieved of it, if it be His holy will. {264} Very probably, such people are not in the grace of God at all; and it is plain even to human wisdom that, if God heard and answered their selfish prayers, they would go away puffed up with pride, never think of returning Him any thanks, and lead a worse sinful life than they have before. For it is a proverb: "Do a proud man a favor, and he hates you for it." He dislikes the idea of being laid under an obligation; and this is just what would happen to such. They would dislike God for putting them under the obligation to serve Him the more strictly in return for His favors. God sees this, and, because they have no humility, their prayers are not heard. It is the same with many spiritually minded persons too. They are led to look for mortifications and crosses, and, when these are sent, then they are both mortified and crossed in another sense. They are humiliated, but not humbled. Oh! how hard they pray to be delivered from these very means of their sanctification. But it is selfishness that makes them pray. They thought themselves saints, and it galls their pride to be treated as though they were yet far from perfection. They suffer, and keenly too, I know. So did our Blessed Lord in His agony, and dereliction on the Cross. But when __He__ prayed, He said to His Father, "Not My will, but Thine be done." {265} The want of humility in prayer is the bane of those living in heresy. Heresy, you know, is the offspring of pride. Souls fall into it, and wilfully remain in it from an undue opinion of their own wisdom. All heresy must have "private judgment" as its basis of religion. If the true religion ever comes up before them for examination or acceptance, they are almost afraid to pray at all, lest they should pray themselves into submission to it. They see that the road before them is the road of humility. They start back at the hard sayings. Wanting humility, they have very little conviction of sin; and, like the Pharisee who went up to the temple to recount his good deeds, you will not unfrequently hear such persons, in speaking of the confessional, say with unaffected surprise: "Why, what in the world can you have to tell? I don't think I have any sins to confess." Oh! if they could once be brought down to pray humbly for light and guidance, how differently would they talk, and how quickly all their fancied difficulties and impossibilities would fade away! {266} A celebrated master in the spiritual life used to send persons away to pray who came to him to talk controversy. If they were humbly seeking the truth, they found all their objections answered in prayer before they returned. If not, he knew their pride would be proof against both prayer and argument, however long the one or powerful the other. My brethren, we have all got to pray for what we want, and to pray humbly too, if we expect our prayers to be heard. To pray like the Publican, "O God, be merciful to me a sinner," and not like the Pharisee, "O God, I thank thee I am not like the rest of men." I recollect an instance, on one of our Missions, which will be a lesson for all those whom I have been addressing this morning. A young man came to me, whom I soon learned to be one of those unfortunate Catholics whose parents do nothing more towards making them Christians than to get them baptized. The first words he said to me were these: "Father, I'm a mighty hard case." I found he was quite ignorant of the principal doctrines of the faith, and sent him away for a few days to learn them. When he presented himself again, he was surprised I did not recognize him. "Why, don't you know," said he, "I'm the mighty hard case?" It was necessary not only to instruct him, but to give him some serious warnings, that he might keep out of bad company, and live thenceforward a good life. {267} Perhaps I was led to speak in a tone that appeared to him rather severe; and it went to my heart to hear the poor fellow repeat the humble judgment he had passed upon himself: "Yes, father, I told you so. I told you I was a __mighty__ hard case." The "mighty hard case" got his communion with great joy and a holy pride; and I remembered the words of the Lord: "Amen, I say to you, this man went down to his house justified ... for every one that humbleth himself shall be exalted." Reflect upon this touching example of an humble soul, and, when you go to pray, think of the necessity of humility, and of patience and resignation to God's will in all things. Pray! Not in proud self-conceit, for God will despise you, and resist your supplications, and withhold His grace. Without grace you will find yourself falling so repeatedly and grievously into sin that you will lose faith in prayer. When it comes to that, you are on the road to hell. Pray! Not in fear. That is a bad sign. It looks as though you did not love God; and, it such be the case, you cannot expect Him to hearken to you, or grant you any favors. Pray! but not in selfishness. Let God and His holy will be all in all to you. Take what He sends. Learn to trust Him in humility and patience. The Lord does not always tell us the reasons why. {268} Whether He commands us as a Master, chastises us as a Father, or teaches us to imitate Him in some hard lesson of humiliation--as when He Himself washed the Apostles feet--He very often has but the same answer to us that He gave to the astonished Peter: "What I do thou knowest not now; but them shalt know hereafter." Pray in humility, O ye doubting, distrustful souls! God's truth is near enough and plain enough. It is you who are too high-minded to see it, too proud to pray that you may know it. Ask not with Pilate, "What is truth? what is truth?" in the presence of the Infinite Truth, and then, like him, turn away and never hear it. Cease not to pray, though the morn is long in dawning, and the day of redemption be delayed; but cease not to pray humbly, for, says the wise man, "the prayer of him that humbleth himself shall pierce the clouds, and he shall not depart until the Most High behold." [Footnote 102] [Footnote 102: Ecclus. xxxv. 21.] [USCCB: Sirach xxxv. 17.] --------------------- {269} Sermon XVIII. Preparation For A Good Death. (For The Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost.) Isaiah xxxviii. 1. "__Put thy house in order, for thou shall die, and not live__." When I read the Gospel for to-day, which describes the raising of the widow's son to life, I ask myself the question--Did he die prepared? When his friends could no longer give him any hope of recovery--when he was forced to make that bitter acknowledgment to himself, "My time is come," then did he make ready to die? Did he put his house in order? Had he time to do it? Was he in a fit state to do it? When his soul had departed, could his widowed mother console herself with the thought--He lived a good life, and he died a good death? We can not answer for the young man, as the Gospel tells us nothing either of his life or of his death, but we can answer for many whose lives and whose deaths we know; and, knowing our own lives, we ought to be able to answer for the kind of death we would die if the word of the Lord came to us as it came to King Ezechias: "Put thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live." {270} A friend, about to take a journey to Europe, remarked: "I have arranged all my affairs, so as to have a pleasant journey." He did well. We will do better when we shall have arranged all our affairs for a pleasant journey to that far-off land from which we shall never return. Let us see, brethren, what it is to arrange one's affairs that one may die a good death. This preparation may be summed up in the fulfilment of three obligations--the first, to God; the second, to our neighbor; and the last, to one's self. To die well and happily, we must fulfil our obligations to God. Here I must confess I am somewhat troubled to answer how a man who is near death, whether he be in good health at the present moment or given up by his physician, shall satisfy this demand, if he has not already done so. The last, and usually the most useless, hours of one's life are hardly the time to give God his due. God's obligations are fulfilled in living not in dying, well. Our Lord compares the dealings of God with us to a man who hired workmen to labor in his vineyard; to another who gave certain talents to his servants which they were to improve; and, again, to a husbandman who sowed his seed expecting to reap a harvest from it in due time. {271} These are very apt figures of the duties and the fruits of life. The heavenly reward will be bestowed upon him who labored at God's work in life. He shall enter into so much of the heavenly joy of his Lord as he has fitted himself for by the improvement of the talents which God gave him. God will reap just so much of a harvest as the seed of His divine grace has been cultivated and allowed to grow in the heart. Now we are sent to begin our work, to improve our talents, and His grace is sown in our hearts when life begins. God's obligations begin when we begin to live, not when we begin to die. Oh! this is a startling truth! What a fearful thought this must be to him who has never realized it as life went on, and only now begins to think about it when the terrors of the coming judgment are casting their shadows before, and darkening the last hours of his misspent life! I hardly know what to say to that man to whom religion has never been a reality in life, who has shirked its duties, and deafened his conscience to its appeals, who thinks of it only when life is not worth thinking of; who makes use of it only to smooth his dying pillow, to bless his grave, and pray for him when he is gone. {272} The thought that his life, the only life he has had or will have upon which God has such a heavy claim for his service, for the worship and love of his heart, upon his personal exertions and sacrifices for the cause of His holy faith--has simply been allowed to wear away, day after day and year after year, and that nothing has been done, must be a thought of misery and dismay, such as would overwhelm the mind of a merchant who, after making a long and, as he supposed, prosperous voyage across the ocean, finds, to his disappointment, that he has forgotten to bring either the money or the letters of credit wherewith to purchase his expected cargo. I hardly know what to say to that man whose life has been little more than a mockery of the God whom he pretended to serve; whose principles and faith were indeed Christian, but whose practice and works have been heathen. He has been a Catholic--oh! yes, in name, but not in deed. It would be better to say of him that he was not a Protestant, nor a Jew, nor an infidel. That is all. That he is a Catholic seems to be a happy accident; for, to judge from the indifference he manifests in its practice, it is to be feared that, had circumstances made him anything else, the Catholic faith would be the last thing to which he would give a serious thought. When such are suddenly surprised with the message, "Put thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live," indeed it is hard to say how they are to prepare to answer to God for their life. {273} Their memory brings up little else than despised warnings, grace trifled with, neglected sacraments, prayerless days, and desecrated Sundays; and I know not where they are to find the fruit that God comes seeking of them. You see, my brethren, that the first condition of being able to prepare for a happy death is to have lived well. But you ask--Is one who begins late in life to serve God, who knows that he has but a short time to do something for Him, to give up his case as hopeless, and despair of fulfilling this great obligation? Must he say I have, alas! made no life-preparation of this solemn account, and it is too late now? Far be it from me to say that; but this I know: he must begin now all the more earnestly, and do what he can with all the greater effort, as the time is the shorter. O my dear brethren! that these late workmen in God's service, and the dying, would understand this! Such an one falls sick. He is attacked with a disease which will soon run its course. He sends for a priest. He makes his confession as well as he can--he would have made a better one if he had been well, for he is not in a condition to remember the events of so many years; he is sorry for his neglect and his sins; sorry for all the comforts of religion that he has lost; but, tell me, is he sorry for what God has lost by his careless life? {274} Does he express one regret that God has not only not had His own, but that He has also been dishonored by his bad life; that the Church of the faith he professes has been a loser by him; that he, by his inconsistent conduct, has been a stumbling-block and a rock of scandal to the unbeliever and the scoffer? No, this is the last thing that troubles him. What is one to do? Plainly this: Religion ought now to be his all-absorbing thought. Every moment should be employed with a holy jealousy in prayer, lest God might be forgotten again. One, and only one, desire ought to fill his heart, and that is a desire to love God as perfectly as he may before he die. He should frequently call to mind that comforting assurance which our blessed Lord gave to the penitent Magdalen: "Many sins are forgiven her, because she hath __loved much__." It is not the time for excuses, as so many seem to think it to be, but a time of humble abandonment to the will and the mercy of God. It is a painful sight to witness the contrary; to see the sick and the dying full of complaints, resisting the will of God, and praying for a few more years of a miserable life. If it were for the purpose of living in the love of God, and repairing the bitter past, it would be well. But no, their hearts are breaking to think they are forced to part with the world that they have loved too well. {275} But oh! how sweet it is to see a soul, at the close of life, striving to detach itself from the world, and, as it were, reaching forward to throw itself into the embraces of its God. True, it may have been idle for many long years, and it may have come only at the eleventh hour, but that hour, at least, is well spent. These are they of whom the Master will say: "I will give to these last even as to the first." [Footnote 103] Such may also say, in the language of the wise man: "I awaked last of all, and as one that gathereth after the grape-gatherers. In the blessing of God I also have hoped; and as one that gathereth grapes, have I filled the wine-press." [Footnote 104] [Footnote 103: St. Matt. xx. 14.] [Footnote 104: Ecclesiasticus xxxiii. 16, 17.] [USCCB: Sirach xxxiii. 16, 17.] To die well and happily, we must, in the second place, fulfil our obligations to our neighbor. Scarcely a day of our life passes in which we do not find that our neighbor has had somewhat against us. Debts accumulate, disputes arise, the incautious word is spoken, the scandal is given, the character of our neighbor suffers from our folly or our spite, reconciliation is not made, forgiveness is neither asked nor given, friends are alienated, the sun goes down upon our wrath, and on the morrow we must die. Who is there who is able to say, when he comes to die--I owe no man anything; my debts are all paid; I never wronged any one to whom I did not make full restitution; I never lost a friend but I found him again; I have not an enemy on the face of the earth? {276} Happy is that man, for he will die a happy death. But how many there are who find themselves at the hour of death as they have always been, both unwilling and unable to pay their just debts! How many leave behind them an unsettled inheritance to their relatives, which becomes an inheritance of discord, law-suits, enmities, and deadly feuds! How often men die, and show no fear to go to God with unclean hands--hands stained by the contact of ill-gotten goods and stolen money! How many die unreconciled with their neighbor, and with no earnest wish to be so! How lightly the wrongs of a lifetime weigh upon their conscience! How many die and make no restitution of all the detraction and the calumny of which they have been guilty, and go to their grave amid the secret jeers and curses of their neighbors! "Blessed is he that is defended from a wicked tongue," says the Holy Scripture, "that hath not passed into the wrath thereof, and that hath not drawn the yoke thereof, and hath not been bound in its bands. For its yoke is a yoke of iron: and its bands are bands of brass. The death thereof is a most evil death: and hell is preferable to it." [Footnote 105] [Footnote 105: Ecclus. xxviii. 23, 24.] [USCCB: Sirach xxviii. 19-21.] {277} Do you wish to escape such a lamentable end? Would you die the death of the just, leaving your name in benediction, your loss sincerely mourned, and your soul defended with prayers at the bar of judgment? Deal with thy neighbor now whilst thou art in the way with him. "Put thy house in order," and especially when you come to die. Let no worldly consideration, no thought of pride, hinder you from a perfect reconciliation with all men--a full payment of every debt--a free forgiveness for every wrong you have suffered. The few moments that remain to you, you will need to pray for God's forgiveness for your own sins. Remember the Lord's words: "For with what judgment you have judged, you shall be judged; and with what measure you have measured, it shall be measured to you again." [Footnote 106] [Footnote 106: St. Matt. vii. 2.] Lastly, to die well, we must fulfil the obligations we owe to ourselves. We are Christians, and should meet death like Christians. That is, we owe it to ourselves to show at that supreme moment some evidence that we are not being forced out of life as if there were no existence beyond it, but that we are ready to answer the call that God makes to us to come home; not that we are setting out upon a journey of darkness and lonely misery, but that we are following Jesus, who has overcome the sting of death and robbed the grave of its terrors. {278} That we may be encouraged in this, we should bring to mind the examples which the holy martyrs and the other saints of God have left us in their deaths. Death, in its very nature, is humiliating and degrading to human nature. It conquers us; it leaves us not a trace of our beauty nor a vestige of our power. No wonder that the flesh is weak and trembles before it; but the spirit, ennobled with Christian faith and hope, and strengthened with Christian charily, is willing and courageous. The Christian's death is then no longer an ignominious defeat, but a glorious sacrifice. The flesh goes, indeed, to the prison of the grave; but the spirit, set free from its mortal bonds, mounts to the skies to be crowned with power and immortality. One thought alone should occupy our minds in our last hours--the thought of uniting our souls to God, whom we are so soon to meet. It is painful to see a dying person thinking of nothing but how to give some momentary relief to his body, each instant calling for some new comfort, as anxious and careful as if he were preparing for a long life, instead of employing the precious moments in prayer, in acts of contrition for the sins of his past life, and in acts of love to God. I know that many persons think it useless to try to pray at such a time, when the strength is failing and the senses are growing dull; but it is not so. {279} They can "pray in their soul," as a saintly woman told me on her death-bed. Seeing that I noticed the beads in her hands, she said to me: "I am not able to __say__ my beads, father; but, when I feel lonesome, I take them out to keep me company, and I pray in my soul." We may make all our acts acts of prayer, if we will. Our acceptance of sickness and death in the spirit of penance is prayer. Our resignation to the will of God--our patience in suffering--our gentleness and mildness with those who are tending and watching us--all these things are prayer, if we practise them with the thought that they are pleasing to God. Then, there are the holy sacraments of the dying, full of grace, comfort, and strength to our souls. I know few Catholics wilfully neglect these, but it is a source of grief to the priest to be called, so often as he is, to administer the last sacraments to those who ought long ago have received the first ones they need. I think it is one of the most discouraging events in the ministry to go to a dying man and find that it is years since he confessed or received the Holy Communion. Confession! I tell you that it is very seldom that one on his sick-bed makes as good a confession as he would if he were well. He cannot do it. His mind is not as clear; his memory fails him; and, worst of all, he makes little or no effort to prepare himself for it. What is the consequence? {280} His contrition is as vague and indifferent as is his confession. With how much devotion does he receive the Holy Viaticum and the Extreme Unction? Alas! this man did not begin to pray or to think about either till an hour ago, when the doctor told him he had to die. The priest absolves him, and he and his friends are content. But did God absolve him? Tell me if he made a good confession, or was sincerely sorry for his sins, and then I will tell you whether God absolved him. Woe be to him if he did not, for it is the last chance he has to confess, and but too frequently it is the last appeal he makes to God for forgiveness. The priest gives him the Holy Communion. Does he receive it worthily? Not, of course, because he is going to die, or because this is his last Communion. Does he receive it in as good dispositions as would make it a worthy Communion if he were well, and had received it in the church at the altar? If not, he makes an unworthy Communion, and eats and drinks damnation to himself. The priest anoints him. Is he signed and consecrated to God, and are his senses purified, and his soul strengthened? Yes, if he be in the grace of God. If not, he is signed and delivered over to Satan by it, and his soul is prepared for hell. Oh! if one wishes to be able to fulfil these obligations well at the hour of death, he must not neglect the preparation for them in life. {281} Beautiful is the happy death of a Christian! Death! He does not die. He enters into life; he rests from his labors; he falls asleep in the Lord. Not long ago, I received an invitation to attend the funeral of a priest. It was couched in these words: "You are invited to attend the funeral of the Very Rev. Patrick Moran, who entered into his rest at half-past eight on Wednesday morning last." Fitting sentence, indeed, to describe the death of that venerable and holy old man! Through a long life he lived and labored only for God. Full of years and of merit, ripe for heaven, and ready to begin his eternal life, he ceased from work at the call of his divine Master, and entered into his rest. Thus should every Christian die. It is what the Holy Church wishes for us all. When the solemn dirges are chanted over us, again and again she prays: "__Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine." "Requiescant in pace.__" "Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord!" "May they rest in peace!" My brethren, I have tried to-day to lay before you the duties of the dying Christian. Soon will some of you be called upon to put them in practice. Are you all ready for the last preparations? Is your life to-day such as you would like it to be, if to-morrow you are to die? Is your confession made for this year? Have you received the Easter Communion? Are you at peace with God and men? {282} These are questions which you will wish to be able to answer in the affirmative when you call upon the priest for your holy rites and his parting blessing. Prepare now, that you may be prepared then. Begin to-day, for the hour may come sooner than you imagine in which you shall hear this awful message from the Lord: "Put thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live." ------------------------ {283} Sermon XIX. The King's Marriage Feast. (For The Nineteenth Sunday After Pentecost.) St. Matt. xxii. 14. "__For many are called, but few are chosen.__" There are some Catholics who, with the smallest quantity of the spirit of the Catholic religion, are very boastful of the name. They look down upon those who are out of the fold of the Church with scorn and contempt. Their whole demeanor indicates that they consider themselves immensely superior to these unfortunate creatures, who are all doomed necessarily to eternal destruction. As to themselves, they deem it impossible that they should incur the same doom, because they are Catholics. They are not members of the Church so much by a special divine favor, but rather they have conferred a favor on God by belonging to it. The Church belongs to them by the right of birth, and the fact of their parents having been Catholics gives them the privilege of sneering at all not born under similar circumstances. {284} I have even heard such persons call converts to the faith by the sweet and charitable epithet of "turncoats," and say they should have remained where they were, and that it is a disgraceful thing to abandon the religion of one's forefathers. Catholicity with such is a thing of descent and of family pride; not a thing of the heart and of the will. The Holy Ghost understood this spirit, and, by the mouth of St. John the Baptist, rebuked it severely: "Bring forth fruits worthy of penance, and do not begin to say, We have Abraham for our father." [Footnote 107] These words, applied to the Jews of old, might well be translated for the benefit of many Catholics nowadays--Do not begin to say, We are born of Catholic parents, our forefathers have been Catholics for many generations, if you are living like the heathen; but bring forth fruits worthy of that holy and sacred name of Catholic; otherwise you will never come to enjoy the presence of God, but be everlastingly cast out. [Footnote 107: St. Luke iii. 8.] The parable of to-day gives us the most useful instruction on this very subject. A certain king made a marriage feast for his son. This king is the God of heaven and earth. The marriage feast He makes is the participation of the creature in His own glory; a boundless and inconceivable happiness, which shall never have end or diminution; a realization of more than we have dreamed of, or could possibly imagine. {285} This is the marriage feast of His Eternal Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, because He, by taking our flesh upon Himself and becoming man, by suffering and dying upon the cross, has redeemed us from sin, elevated us far above the capacity of nature, and enabled us to aspire to this magnificent destiny. It is His marriage feast, because it is the celebration of the eternal nuptials of Himself with the soul. It is the marriage feast in which the Omnipotence of the Eternal Beauty is exercised to render the guests eternally and supremely happy, filling them with an ocean of unbounded joy and contentment. The king sent out his servants into the highways and public streets, with directions to call or invite to his feast all they should meet, and urge them to come in. This is what God does now every day. He calls, indiscriminately, the rich and the poor, the noble and the lowly, into the fold of His Church. It is no merit on their part which brings them the invitation. They are all ragged and dirty in the sight of God. Not one of them but would be a disgrace to the King's feast; but God does not look at that. He is moved only by His desire to do them a great favor, and confer upon them great happiness. {286} When He invites them, He intends to make them fit; to wash off the dirt, and put suitable clothing upon them, so that they may be made fit to enter His banqueting-hall. He has them brought to an outer room, where are baths and precious ointments, and splendid garments, and servants in abundance to put them on. They need not trouble themselves with the expense of providing anything, for the King provides all. A child is brought to the priest for baptism. That child is of Catholic parents, and they bring it. The child knows nothing at all of what is done for it. It had no choice in the matter. It might have been born of another race and of another religion, but God, and not itself, has caused it to be born of Catholic parents, and to be brought by them to baptism. It is, as it were, met on the highway and called in, all stained by original sin, to be washed in baptism, endowed with the right to the sacraments, and invested with an immortal inheritance. So likewise Jesus Christ has commanded His ministers to go and preach the Gospel to every creature; to go and invite everybody who hears their voice to come in and enjoy the same privileges. Those who accept the invitation have as much right as those who are invited in the other way, by the accident of their birth; for no one has any other right than what comes from the pure bounty and goodness of the King. {287} Those who are born of Catholic parents, and those who are Catholics by their own free choice in later life, stand on the same footing. We are all a crowd of beggars, who were in the broad highway, and have heard the invitation of the King of kings, and have come in in obedience to it. We are now all standing in the outer hall of the eternal banquet, or rather in the banqueting-room itself, waiting for the King to come in, when the music will begin, and all its grandeur be lighted up by His presence. It is a most solemn reflection, my friends. You and I have received this invitation. The King's messengers have met us on the highway, and they have forced us to come in. We have been compelled to come in, for ruin and death were the alternative of staying out. We have no longer the liberty of ranging the highways. We are no longer in the position of the heathen--without the knowledge of the true religion, and without baptism. The indelible mark, or character as it is termed, of baptism has been imprinted on our souls; all the ages of eternity will not suffice to wipe it out. Poor as this privilege was to be hungry and ragged and miserable, it is ours no longer, but we are in the banqueting-hall of the marriage feast. {288} There we are, and we cannot go out into the highway again. Once in, the door is shut behind us, and there is no key to unlock it. Once removed out of the state of our birth and made heirs of the kingdom of heaven by baptism, it is impossible to put us back again in our former relations. The mark of baptism, stamped upon our souls, will remain with us either in heaven or in hell. Elevated by God's goodness far above the condition of our nature, if we fall, it must be down, deeper far than the condition from which we were first taken. A man may neglect his duty to God, and try to persuade himself that the end and object of his existence is to get money, or fame, or power, or pleasure, but he will find to his cost that it was no such thing. The end and object of his existence was to learn to love and serve God in this world, in order to be happy with Him in the next; to prepare to be a worthy guest at the marriage feast of the Lamb, the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ. And now we are all in at the feast, and the King comes around to see the guests. He discovers one without a suitable garment on; one who has had the brazen-faced shamelessness to intrude himself into the company all ragged and dirty, without the least pains to make himself look decent, and pay respect to the King and his guests. Could there be a more outrageous insult? {289} Could anything be more wanton and impudent than such conduct? The King had provided everything; all they needed was at hand; He had warned them to make themselves fit before going in: and here is this man, in spite of all this, deliberately walking into this splendid entertainment, with old tattered clothes and unwashed face and hands. The King is justly indignant, and commands him to be bound hand and foot, and cast into a dismal prison. Is it not so? Has not God provided the Holy Sacrament of Penance, where, with little trouble, the soul can be washed and cleansed from all its defilements? The Holy Sacrament of the altar, where the soul is nourished, and strengthened, and adorned by feeding on the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ? Are not innumerable graces and virtues waiting for us, ready to be given, if we will only take the trouble to ask for them? Yes, the King of Glory will come around to see the guests at the eternal feast. He will inspect each one of us. When will He come around? When we die. Then it is the Judge of the whole human race will come around to see if we are in the banqueting-hall of the eternal feast with the marriage garment on. {290} We came up to the door of the church, and we received a ticket of admission. All right so far. We entered the door, and we remained within among the rest. Still all is right, and no doubt we felt pleased to be in such good company, and no one turned us out. But what good will all this do if we have not the wedding garment on? What good will it do us to have gone to the church and heard the sermons, if we have not on the wedding garment? What good to have had the sacraments in life, or even at the hour of death, if we have not on the wedding garment? What is this wedding garment? The grace of God. If we are in mortal sin, we have not the wedding garment on. We pulled it off when we committed sin, and rendered ourselves utterly unfit for the company of heaven. If we are in mortal sin at this moment, we are now in the marriage feast of the King's Son without the wedding garment, and woe be to us if the King should happen to come around. At any moment His eye may fall upon us, and we may hear the words, "Friend, why camest thou in hither with out having on a wedding garment?" You will be struck dumb with confusion and have nothing to reply; and then will go forth the irrevocable sentence, "Bind him hand and foot, and cast him into the outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." {291} Oh! who can comprehend the folly of the human race--a race of beings so feeble and miserable, and limited by its nature, and yet so unlimited and unbounded in its cravings for happiness-- who can make so little of that offer which lifts them out of all this misery and exceeds their highest expectations? One would think this offer would fill them with delight and a noble enthusiasm to avail themselves of it. And yet, what do we see? God's offer is despised. An immortal destiny is thrown away. Man, created to the image and likeness of God, makes himself like the beasts that perish. He boasts and prides himself on the fact that he lives for the body, and despises eternity and God. Many are called. Many are placed in the way of salvation. Many have an abundance of means in their hands to attain to it. With a little attention, with light exertion, many would be saved who are lost. What inexcusable folly! Let us not be guilty of it. Let us live for our immortal souls. Let us put on the wedding garment of truth, and sincerity, and justice--that white garment that we received at baptism--and see that we keep it unspotted until the end. ----------------------------- {292} Sermon XX. Good Use Of Sickness. (For The Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost.) Ecclesiasticus xxxviii. 9. [USCCB: Sirach xxxviii. 9.] "__My son, in thy sickness neglect not thyself, but pray to the Lord, and he shall heal thee.__" The Gospel of the day relates the miracle of the healing of the ruler's son. That this man had the right kind of faith which pleases God, and obtains extraordinary favors from His hand, is shown by the promptitude of his belief in what our Lord said to him. Although he had urged and insisted upon our Lord's going down to Capharnaum with him, yet, no sooner did he hear the words, "Go thy way, thy son liveth," than he immediately returned home alone without further doubt or remonstrance. I do not think, my brethren, that we exercise enough of this faith in God in our sicknesses; not, understand me, that we are to look for miraculous cures of our ailments and diseases, or that we are to condemn ourselves for want of faith if our prayers for relief are not answered on a sudden; but what I mean is, that we too often misapprehend the cause of our sicknesses, and do not make the good use of them we might. Let me say a few words which may be for our instruction and edification on these points. {293} In any event, whatever may be the direct cause of our sickness, it is, after all, the will of God. If we fall sick through our own culpable neglect or criminal excesses, it is still the will of God. We have, in this, disturbed the good order of His Providence, and suffer the natural consequences of it. There are, besides, those countless forms of disease and phases of ill health which afflict us, and which we are not able to trace to any fault of ours. We fall sick, and cannot tell how or why. An invisible hand has touched us at a moment we knew not, and our strength is gone, the light has fled from our eyes, and the color from our cheek. A secret poison has insinuated itself into our blood, and dried up the fountains of health and vigor. Fierce and rapid in its destruction, a week, a day, or even a few hours suffice to bring us to the point of death, and shatter the boasted glory of our strength. Then, if the danger passes and the prospect of returning health smiles upon us, we have yet to pass through the long and tedious days and nights of convalescence, gathering but slowly, and with great labor and suffering, that which we lost so quickly and so easily. {294} The first and most necessary truth for a Christian to reflect upon in the time of sickness is that, in some way or other, God's hand is in it, and that the stroke falls either in chastisement, in mercy, or as a special favor and blessing. We must never forget that life is given to us with all its vicissitudes of joy and sorrow, of prosperity and adversity, of pains and pleasures, more because of eternity than on its own account. Sickness comes in its proper turn at fitting times as a part of the life that we are to lead here below; and when it is good for us, then God sends it. He has ends in view that we may be wholly ignorant of. He knows our souls well and watches over them, and a Christian ought to believe that he is never sick in body but for the sake of the health of his soul. But some one may say that is bringing sickness, health, and the like within the pale of religion. "O ye sons of men! how long will ye be dull of heart? Why do you love vanity, and seek after lying?" We are cunning enough in the ways of the world, but why so slow to understand the ways of God? Is there anything that we are, or have, or can be that is not of God? Why forever trying to lie to ourselves, and leave Him out of account? Are we sick or well, rich or poor, learned or ignorant, honored or despised, that God does not know it, has not so appointed it, and has not good reasons for it? And is not the referring of any or all of the states of our being to Him an act of religion? {295} The truth is, my brethren, that the manner in which one receives and bears an attack of illness is a good test of one's religion. You will see some giving away to inordinate fear and anxiety upon the approach of the first symptoms of disease. They are not in the habit of referring even their health to God, or of thanking Him for it. They imagine they live of themselves. So, when they feel their own strength leaving them, and are forced to say--I can hold up myself no longer, then terror seizes upon them, as if all aid, human or divine, was wanting, because they can no longer help themselves. See, too, how the positively irreligious and wicked man generally acts in the commencement of sickness. He talks about his fate, his ill-luck, and curses it. He utters incoherent cries of impatience, and is full of anxiety to discover the act of indiscretion on his own part, or the fault of others, through which he has fallen ill. But the true Christian, whose soul is prepared for tribulation, with whom God is no stranger in the time of health, recognizes instantly the hand of God when that health is threatened. With holy Job, he exclaims: "If we have received good things at the hand of God, why should we not receive evil?" [Footnote 108] [Footnote 108: Job ii. 10.] {296} He may be surprised, as all are, at the unlooked-for blow, but there is no sign of angry complaint or of envious repining. It is all right, he says, God knows best. This one thought satisfies his heart, God knows about it. He knows why He sends it. He knows how long it will last; how much I shall suffer, and how it will end. May His holy will be done! You see, my brethren, that what I desire to impress upon your minds is that, in all sickness, from whatever cause, the will of God is to be acknowledged. It is not every Christian, I regret to say, who does so look upon it. Too often you will find it regarded as a grievous misfortune, having no good reason why it should be, and without any compensation for the loss of worldly enjoyment and advantages which it necessarily entails; and, even if they do agree that God has sent it, then it is because God is angry with them. He is taking vengeance upon them. There appears to be no other possible reason that can be given for it. As I said before, we are afflicted with sickness not only as a chastisement for sin, but sometimes also in mercy, as an act of loving-kindness and forethought on the part of God; and again very frequently, as in the case of holy Job, as an opportunity to try our faith, to enable us to show our constancy and love to God, and is therefore to be looked upon as a mark of predilection, and a positive blessing and grace. {297} Certainly, sickness is sometimes sent as a punishment for sin. It comes as a natural and just consequence of sinful excesses. Look at the drunkard and the debauchee. They have gone on for awhile in seeming impunity, but every debauch was a blow struck upon the citadel of life and health. Soon it is shattered, and totters and falls into ruin. Go into the streets, and you may meet them, with haggard faces and trembling limbs. Go to the hospitals and the insane asylums, and see those wrecks of humanity, almost soulless men and women, drivelling idiots, and sickening masses of corruption. Go to many a sick bedside, in palace or in hovel, in this great city, and you may see how sin is punished by an outraged God. And, though you yourself could not trace the fever that blighted you for many long weeks to any natural cause, you know that you deserved it all. Your alarmed conscience did not fail to tell you that there were crimes of your life that demanded retribution. Your overweening pride, your ungovernable anger, has been humbled in the dust. Your days are shortened because of your disobedience and cruelty to your parents. {298} The money you have stolen and would not restore has been wrested from you by the heavy charges of your illness. Your disorderly appetites and lusts are now punished with compulsory and exhausting fasts from all food. "He hath struck you as being wicked, in open sight; who as it were on purpose hath revolted from Him, and would not understand His ways: so that you have caused the cry of the needy to come up before Him, and He has heard the voice of the poor." [Footnote 109] [Footnote 109: Job xxxiv. 26, 28.] You thought in your sin that you were stronger than God. Now He has rebuked you by sorrow on the sick bed, and has made all your bones to wither. Bread is become abominable to you, and to your soul the meat which before you desired. You have trampled on God's holy law; you would not go to Mass to worship Him. Now, though you would gladly go any distance, and suffer any pain to be present at it, you are denied that joy and consolation. You are as one upon whom the church doors are closed, for whom the altar is thrown down, and the priest departed. "In whatsoever a man sins," says the Holy Scripture, "in that also shall he be punished." {299} Sickness has come upon you. Why? In mercy, God sees how indifferent you have become to Him. He sees how your soul has become absorbed in worldly things. Your heart is following after strange gods, and your footsteps are leading down to hell. As Eliu said to Job, "Your guardian angel has spoken to God for you, and said, Deliver him, that he may not go down to corruption." and God in mercy has heard his prayers, and your way is stopped. It is because God loves you, and would save you, that this has come upon you. In the days of pain, and during the long, feverish nights, you will remember God. In your anguish you will turn to Him for comfort, and in your fear you will put your trust in Him. This world has had too much of your heart. On a sick bed you will be able to judge how much it is worth. You will condemn the vanity of your life. The past will be repented of. New resolutions will be made. You will come back to health with a refreshed and chastened spirit. What the friend of Job said to him, you will say of yourself: "My flesh is consumed with punishments, that I may return to the days of my youth. I will pray to God, and He will be gracious to me: and I shall see His face with joy. When I look upon men, I shall say, I have sinned, and indeed I have offended, and I have not received what I deserved, hath delivered my soul from going into destruction, that it may live and see the light." [Footnote 110] [Footnote 110: Job xxxiii. 25-28.] {300} Yes, my dear brethren, I think this is the cause of a great deal of the sickness that is sent upon us. The fever, the cholera, the accident, are good preachers, and they make themselves heard. I do not wonder, then, to see men compelled to listen to their threatening tones, and their souls terrified at their menacing gestures of death, and their eloquent descriptions of the coffin and the grave. The words of God's appointed preacher fall unheeded upon their ears. As long as they have strength enough to hear us, they have courage enough to disobey us. But God shows them a vision of a newly made grave, and causes their feet to totter upon its brink, that they may not go down into it unabsolved. O blessed sickness! how many wandering souls have you not brought back to a forgotten God! How many almost lost have you not snatched from the jaws of hell! God is a kind and thoughtful Father to us, when we often think Him a hard and cruel Master. Like a surgeon, the deeper and more hidden the wound, the more resolutely does he cut down upon it, and lay it open, in order to effect a radical cure. He chastises us in mercy here, that He may spare us at His judgment-seat in the day of His wrath. {301} Why are you sick, you who have no grievous crimes to expiate--you whose whole heart has belonged to God this many a day? Because you are the object of His special graces, and a chosen vessel of election. What is the secret of this apparent contradiction? God wishes to try you, and prove your constancy. Not that He doubts you. On the contrary, He knows how true your heart is. He has every confidence in your fidelity. But He wishes to glorify that fidelity. He wishes to give you a chance to show that you can trust Him in the darkness as well as in the light. He strikes you, that you may have glorious wounds to show at the last day. Do you not know that to suffer for any one is to give a better proof of love than to confer favors and benefits? You have done a good deal for God, I know. He does not forget it. He asks you to give up that which it is the hardest thing in the world to sacrifice--your health. It seems the most unreasonable thing to sacrifice. Your friends and neighbors pity you. They know how much good you were able to do when you were strong and well. They regret to see your usefulness cut off. That usefulness was your constant self-sacrifice for the good of your neighbor. They would like to see that go on. They forget that God wants you to do a little self-sacrifice for Him, for Him alone, just as if there were no one in existence except you and He in the whole universe. This is why you are sick and suffering. {302} Rejoice, then, O Christian sufferer! and bear your cross, not only with patience and resignation, but with holy joy and a thankful heart. Your labors are accepted in His sight, and only this is yet wanting to you--the merit of suffering for Him. My brethren, this is, I well know, a strange doctrine in the ears of the world, and especially to the unbelieving world around us in our day. Meritorious suffering is something which our Protestant friends not only do not comprehend, but laugh at, so that to most of them, even the very passion and death of our Lord is an enigma. They may believe it, but it is an unreasonable belief on their part, for they ridicule the very principle upon which its reasonableness is founded. The Catholic Church teaches us that there is a merit in suffering, in voluntary mortification, in fasting and abstinence, in giving up the world, its friendships and its pleasures; that it is meritorious and pleasing to God for the priest and the virgin to deny themselves the joys and comforts of the married state; in a word, that God is glorified as well by suffering as by act. This is her principle. It is the only principle which can give any reasonable explanation of the atoning sacrifice of our Lord, and to deny it is to deny Christ. Accidental, or rather Providential, suffering, such as we have in sickness, is turned to the same account, and sanctified by our offering it to God in the spirit of sacrifice; for it is not in the act of suffering itself, but in the will, that merit is obtained. {303} Now, my brethren, you see in what spirit we should receive and endure sickness. The will should accept it at once, calmly, willingly, without murmur or complaint. It is God's will. That should be sufficient. Our own will must respond and make an entire and generous offering of it. In the beginning of sickness, then, let us say, O my God! I accept this at your hands with all the pain I shall suffer, whatever may be the reason you have so willed it, in satisfaction for my sins, as an admonition to lead a better life, and as a happy chance to suffer something for your sake in union with the sufferings of my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Help me by your grace to profit by it as you desire. While the sickness lasts, let us often look back upon God, as a gallant knight upon a perilous journey thinks upon his liege lord, whose behests are his law, and whose honor is in his hands, renewing again and again our first fervent offering and oath of fidelity. There will be times when we need to think upon God--times of trial and temptation, when nothing but the thought of God will support us. For there are moments of suffering, when our nearest and dearest friends are dumb in our presence; when the friendly hand, uncertain, stops and hesitates before us, fearing lest too rudely it may draw aside the veil that shrouds our anguish--agonizing moments when all human thought and language dies upon the threshold. {304} Happy the soul who then knows whither to turn for that longed-for comfort which the world in its weakness cannot give! Happy is he who has learned the secret of sanctifying suffering! For such the Lord's words have a meaning: "Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted." These thoughts and the lessons they teach appear to my mind not inappropriate to the season through which we are passing. Nature is putting on her autumn garb of sombre tints, telling us that her strength and beauty are passing away, and that her days of brightness are declining. The woods, once vocal with the song of birds, now begin to look lonely and deserted. Their stillness is broken only by the rustling fall of the dry and withered leaves, like the stealthy and hushed footsteps heard in the sick chamber. The sighing of the winds through the branches robbed of their crown of verdure is mournful in the ears of the listener, as the low, dreamy moanings in a sick man's sleep. They both speak of decay and whisper of death. Of those of us, my brethren, for whom God is preparing the couch of sickness, against whose sight the light of day will be shut out, and upon whose prostrate form the shadows of suffering will soon fall, some will rise and walk forth in the warm sunshine of a hopeful spring, and some, like the fallen leaves, will never flourish again, but lie, like them, to crumble, decay, and mingle with the dust. {305} Their white pall of the winter snow shall also be ours. The fierce winter storm shall howl its doleful requiem over our heads as it passes by, but we shall not heed it. The earth shall smile in beauty again, but not for us. Oh! be it for us as it may--God knoweth! it will be well for us to have thought upon sickness, and to have prepared our souls for the trial. If health be again granted to us, we shall return to it again all the better for having known how to receive it and how to improve its time. If not, then, when our name shall have become a memory, and our form a vision of the never-returning past, we shall look back from the further shore of the dark river of death over which we have passed, and be glad that we learned how to lean upon God in those last dreadful hours in life, glad that we offered to Him beforehand the willing sacrifice of health and strength and life, and thus ascended from the altar of the bed of suffering, as a victim of acceptable merit in the sight of Him who rewards, more than tongue can tell, the least we ever do or suffer for His sake. ---------------------- {306} Sermon XXI. Thoughts For Advent. (For The Third Sunday Of Advent.) Philippians iv. 8. "__For the rest, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are modest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are holy, whatsoever things are amiable, whatsoever things are of good repute; if there be any virtue, if there be any praise of discipline, think on these things__." The Christian is so deeply impressed with the truth, that a time will come when his faith will be changed to sight, his hope be realized in reward, and his charity be perfected in the enjoyment of all that is good, that he may be said to have this thought always uppermost in his mind. It regulates his conduct, consoles him in affliction, cheers him in the hour of darkness and of doubt, and puts in his mouth and hands the words and deeds of encouragement to his fellows. It is a magnetic thought, which, amid the storms and tempests of life, and through all its weary wanderings, keeps one's heart ever turned towards God and eternity. {307} This blessed time for which we are all looking is the coming of the Lord, the manifestation and glorious consummation of the Kingdom of God. As the Apostle expresses it: "Looking for the blessed hope and coming of the glory of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ." [Footnote 111] [Footnote 111: Ep. Titus ii. 13.] The holy season of Advent brings this truth more strongly before us, and directs our thoughts to it by the Gospel prophecies of the second advent of Christ, and by the warnings to prepare for it which St. Paul gives so often in his epistles. The words of the text follow immediately the admonition of the great Apostle which the Church has chosen for the third Sunday of Advent: "The Lord is nigh." Let us to-day, then, think on these things, and endeavor to make these thoughts profitable. I. __Whatsoever things are true__. Here is a thought worth thousands. We look around us, and see so much insincerity, duplicity, and double-dealing; we meet so many who will overreach us with a friendly smile on their countenance, and cheat us without a blush, that we are tempted both to exclaim with David, in haste, "All men are liars," and to descend from our Christian stand-point of high integrity and noble frankness, in order to cope with the world after its own fashion, and meet it with its own weapons. {308} But it is an unfortunate day for the Christian when he begins to forget or disbelieve in what is true, and to think on what is false. His mind is quickly pervaded with a subtle poison, which induces a meanness towards his fellow-men--a distrust of their good faith, and ends in a practical disbelief of the Providence of God. To him such unmerited success as attends the corrupt and swindling practices of the day is at first astonishing. The wicked seem to have it all their own way, and profit by the delay, and despite the coming of the hour when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed before the judgment-seat of Christ. His Christian simplicity and candor gives way little by little before the attacks of this lying spirit; his faith in truth, honesty, and pure motives is gone, and his practice is not slow to follow his faith. It is a trite saying that the world is full of humbug, but it is a degrading thought; and to accept this saying as a universal truth, or as the guide of his actions, is unworthy of the Christian man. I envy not the man who acts on the despicable maxim, "Treat every man as a rogue until he has proved himself honest." Rather, a thousand times, would I trust in the power of truth, be true to myself, and, if need be, suffer the loss thereby; for he who has cheated me is the loser in the end, while I have preserved, for a small price, that which is above value, my Christian honor and loyalty to truth. {309} Sincerity and candor are not dead, neither has humbug killed them. There are many true people in the world, be there ever so many hypocrites; and truth is always living, real, indestructible, for it lives with a divine, immortal life. Remembering our blessed Lord's words, then, let our "speech be always yea, yea, and nay, nay; for that which is over and above these is of evil." [Footnote 112] Whatsoever things are true, let us think on these. [Footnote 112: St. Matt. v. 37.] From another point of view, what a thought that is for those who are out of the pale of the Catholic Church! Have they the true faith? Have they now that truth which shall stand the trial at the coming of Jesus Christ? Do they consider their present state a true one in all respects--true before their conscience, and without doubt before their intelligence? Do they regard their religion as a sure religion? What a serious thought it ought to be for many of them who are even now struggling with the strong power of duty, which bids them make their calling and election sure, by embracing, at all hazards, and with ready obedience and trust in God, that truth in the Holy Catholic Church, without which they would not now dare to die. {310} Oh! how earnestly, sincerely, and courageously ought they to listen to the Apostle's words, and think upon those things which are true! There is one of the eight beatitudes for those who think upon the truth. It is the first: "Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven"--the poor in spirit; the simple in heart and mind; a heart and mind to which cunning, duplicity, or falsehood is both strange and repulsive. Theirs is the kingdom of heaven which Christ will bring at His coming, who are poor and humble in spirit, receiving God's truth as a little child, and not rejecting it with high-minded and arrogant self-will, or with proud disdain. Brethren, whatsoever things are true; let us think on these things during the Holy Advent time. II. __Whatsoever things are modest__. Modesty is a marked and well-known characteristic of the Christian. No one would ever think of using the expressions, "heathen modesty" or "Mohammedan modesty," simply because it is neither a heathen nor a Mohammedan virtue. The Apostle evidently uses it here in the sense of reservedness of action which springs from true humility of heart. This displays itself in a most pleasing manner to us in the persons of those who, though endowed with some remarkable talent or accomplishment, yet, through the Christian humility they possess, are not on that account arrogant and puffed up, but bear their honors meekly, and with gentle, unassuming manners. {311} So with their natural gifts. God has given to some, more than to others, beauty of face or form, or some personal qualification which excites our admiration or affection. And in those who are thus favored, how much all this beauty is enhanced by the softened halo which Christian modesty and reserve throws about them! Who would pretend to compare the beauty of the haughty and sensual Magdalen, flaunting her profane charms in the streets of Capharnaum, the theme for the toasts of libertines, to the beauty of the saintly and almost angelic penitent, bathing the feet of Jesus with her tears, and wiping them with her dishevelled hair! He whose thoughts are modest cultivates an unselfish spirit. Alas! what with our fund of pride, our intolerant self-will, and ungovernable temper, how much we need to think on whatsoever things are modest! How prone we are to stand upon our rights; how ready to quarrel with and grumble about our neighbors! A profitable thought for the Advent time, St. Paul urged this especially: "Let your modesty be known of all men." And why so? Because "the Lord is nigh." Yes, He is nigh who taught us a similar lesson: "Learn of Me; for I am meek and humble of heart." [Footnote 113] [Footnote 113: St. Matt. xi. 29.] {312} At His coming He will recognize for His own flock, not the wolves, but the sheep; not the bold-faced and giddy votaries of fashion and pleasure, but the meek and humble Christians, whose beauty is the beauty of their holiness. It is not the useless thorns and briers, which no one can approach without being wounded, but the hidden and inoffensive wheat that will be gathered into the garner of the Lord. There are two beatitudes for the modest-minded--the second and the third: "Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth." And again; "Blessed are the mourners: for they shall be comforted." For the meek and modest, who possess as though they had not; who teach as though they learned; who rule as though they obeyed; whose beauty of body and soul shines among men as though they but reflected that of others; whose inheritance is renunciation, and whose wealth is in their gifts; for them is the whole earth reserved, in its beauty and its glory, at the coming of the Lord. For the blessed mourners, whose perfection in Christian modesty has led them to fly all worldly honors and escape its flatteries; to exchange the gay paths of life for the tearful road of penance, and whose contrite and humble hearts God has promised not to despise--for them is dawning an everlasting day of comfort. {313} III. __Whatsoever things are just__. The just man always desires to act honorably and fairly in his dealings. The Christian is required to give anxious thought as well to the obligations he has contracted towards his neighbor. The closing year naturally brings these obligations to mind; the debts that are owing, the promises made, and the claims for support which others hold against us; and it is a mark of the good, conscientious Catholic that he is anxious about these things, and is earnestly striving to discharge them. A wise thought for Advent. For now the Lord is nigh, the day of His Judgment approaches, when all wrongs will be made right. The unjust escape payment here, through some quibble in the law, or through practices of chicanery and partial testimony of which they take an unfair advantage, but whose unpaid debts and hidden thefts will not escape the memory of their righteous Judge on the last day. Let our thoughts be, then, to render quickly unto every man his due, "because the Lord cometh, because he cometh to judge the earth. He shall judge the world with justice, and the people with His truth." {314} He who thinks upon whatsoever is just will think upon the poor. It is the word of God, that "the just taketh notice of the poor, but the wicked is ignorant of them." [Footnote 114] [Footnote 114: Prov. xxix. 7.] God has given to the poor and needy rights which no Christian man can ignore. They are committed to him by his Master, and their Friend and Protector, to be taken care of, to be thought about, to be sought out and ministered unto. Oh! a thousand times happier is he who in Advent time thinks upon the poor: when winter, with his icy blasts, is making the poor shiver with cold and nakedness; when the poor man goes sadly home to find the cupboard bare and his little ones moaning for hunger; when lonely widows and friendless girls, whose homes are in hovels and cheerless garrets, sit up far into the night with no fire in the stove, warming their weary and chilled fingers over the candle, that they may be able to ply the needle that keeps them from starvation. Oh! blessed is that man who, knowing no hunger or thirst for his body, yet hungers and thirsts in his soul after justice for the poor; whose thoughts revert to them when the weather grows colder, and the storm howls more fiercely, and can say when he lays his head upon his pillow at night: "Thank God, I have not forgotten them to-day!" {315} You all know the beatitude in store for those who think on what is just. It is the fourth: "Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after justice: for they shall be filled." Yes, God will reward them plenteously. The Psalmist says of them: "The just shall flourish like the palm-tree; he shall grow up like the cedar of Libanus; they shall increase to a fruitful old age, that they may show that the Lord our God is righteous." [Footnote 115] [Footnote 115: Ps. xci. 13, 15.] [USCCB: Ps. xcii. 13, 15.] IV. __Whatsoever things are holy__. The vice of the world is irreligion. Its votaries do not believe in sanctity. Unholy in their lives, so are their thoughts. They are ever ready to scoff at holy persons and things, and to stigmatize the pious as hypocrites. But the Christian is slow to suspect evil. To his pure mind all things are pure. His religion, which is the law of his life, he knows to be replete with holiness; that it is holy in doctrine, holy in its moral teachings, and glorious in the great multitude of its saints. And just so far as his religion guides him, and exercises its hallowing influence over him, just so far will he delight to think upon what is holy and pure. There are times when the evil we are forced to witness becomes a severe trial to us. Scandals are now and then brought to light which grieve the saints, bring the blush of shame to the cheek of the good Christian, and not unfrequently destroy the faith of the lukewarm. {316} "Scandals must needs come," said our Saviour; but is it, therefore, necessary for us to think about them and brood over them? No; there is good enough for our thoughts, good enough for us to glory in, and for which to praise God. The Church never bears her name in vain. She is always the __Holy__ Catholic Church; and we should rather be striving to prove that holiness in our own lives, "pressing forward towards the mark, for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus," than stay and linger on the way, losing our time in mourning an evil we see and cannot remove. There is a beatitude for those whose thoughts are holy. It is the sixth: "Blessed are the clean of heart: for they shall see God." The pure-minded, the holy in heart, are those who are most dear to God. Brethren, this is a blessing worth winning, and it is easily won. Remember that the Lord is nigh. Keep your thoughts in the presence of God, and you will prepare your hearts and minds to see Him in the clear vision of His glory, which is promised to the clean of heart. V. __Whatsoever things are amiable__. To the Christian there is something sacred in all the beauties of nature and of grace. In everything he sees the hand of God, and all the acts of Providence are admirable, and he does not need to be told that they are the best that could happen. {317} One who has such thoughts is sure to be a kind-hearted soul. The world wears easily with him, for he sees only what is pleasant, is long mindful of favors, and quickly forgets and forgives injuries. If his friends happen to be at a disagreement with him, or even among one another, it is a positive pain to him. He is uneasy until it is all made up again. It gives him unfeigned delight to bring about a reconciliation between people at variance. Oh! charming and beautiful is such a soul! Sweet is the interior peace which it enjoys. He is filled with thoughts of kindness and gentleness because he thinks on those things that are amiable. There is a beatitude for such. It is the seventh: "Blessed are the peace-makers: for they shall be called the children of God." Let us strive, dear brethren, to merit this blessing during holy Advent time, when we are preparing to meet our Lord, who came to bring peace on earth to men of good-will. VI. __Whatsoever things are of good repute__. I love to see good honest pride. It tells me that there is a desire not only to be respected by men, but to stand well and blameless before God. How much sin would be avoided if Christians would only be more thoughtful of the character and name they bear! And how many could easily be rescued from shame and degrading despair if one could inspire them with true self-respect! {318} One day, there came to a priest a young man in the lowest state of moral cowardice from drunkenness. He thought it was of no use to try to retrieve himself, and his friends looked upon him as a hopeless case. The priest, however, did not say one word of reproach to him. He did not need that, poor fellow; he was down enough already. But he shook him warmly and encouragingly by the hand, and said to him, "Why, my dear sir, you have only to think what I believe about you, and in three months time you will be one of the most respectable members of the church." He heard himself called "sir," and "my __dear__ sir," and it would have delighted you to see the change that came over him. He brightened up immediately, his eyes filled with tears, and, returning the pressure of the priest's hand, he said, with a voice choked with emotion, "So I will, father"; and he departed full of hope, and strengthened to make good his resolution. Thoughts of good repute will shut the mouths of backbiters and slanderers, and will school the tongue to speak well of every one. The love of our own good repute should teach us to be merciful to others. For, if there was one who knew all our sins as we ourselves know them, and threatened to expose us before the world, how piteously would we cry to him for mercy, and beseech him to spare the good name we hold! {319} He who would have that mercy shown to him, let him show it to others, and bury the knowledge he possesses of their shame in that deep oblivion and secrecy in which he would wish to hide his own. There is a beatitude for such. It is the fifth: "Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy." VII. __If there be any virtue, if there be any praise of discipline__. The presence and influence of the Holy Ghost in the Church has infused into her members a spirit whose manifest workings have made the world stand in awe. It is Christian fortitude. This has enabled the martyr to smile in the midst of torture, and changed the dungeon into an ante-chamber of heaven. This has nerved the missionary to bid an eternal farewell to home, friends, and kindred, and carried him with a fearless heart into the haunt of the savage, to the shore of the cannibal, and to the land of the relentless and cruel pagan who gloats over the horrible death he makes a Christian die. This it is that gives strength to timid, weak woman to put on the habit of sacrifice, and enter the pestilential wards of the hospital with a cheerful step, and watch through the long and weary night by the bedside of the dying stranger, whose contagious disease carries death to her own brave heart. {320} This gives her courage to face the cannon's mouth, and stand amid shot and shell ready to bind up the bleeding wounds of the soldier, or to waste and wear her life away in seeking out, teaching, and reforming the vilest outcasts upon the streets. This it is that covers the Little Sister of the Poor with a panoply of heroism as she goes from door to door begging for the superannuated and bedridden wretches whom she has picked up out of the gutters, or from the purlieus and filthy alleys of the city, degraded, friendless, and miserable from want or disease; and it wreathes her head with a halo of glory as she sits down with a merry laugh to eat the scraps of food which they have left, or puts on the thin and ragged dress which is not warm enough or good enough for her dear old poor. This Christian fortitude, this heavenly virtue, this divine power of discipline and mastery over souls, is seen in the earnestness and the fearlessness of all the deeds of charity and mercy, of all the admonitions and exhortations, and even of the threats and warnings of God's Holy Church to the nations of the earth. She is able to teach her children to carry out the lesson of the Lord: "Fear not them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do." [Footnote 116] [Footnote 116: St. Luke xii. 4.] {321} Oh! let us think a little upon this virtue, this discipline worthy of all praise, and it will lead us to be more trusting and loyal to the Church, and also to obey her commands the more readily who, like her Divine Founder, "speaks as one having authority." A thought for the Holy Advent time: for at the bottom of it all lies the grand reason of the Church's existence and work. She prepares men for the coming of the Lord. She is looking for the establishment and triumph of the kingdom of our Lord on the earth. The principle of her actions, which she learned at the foot of her Master's cross and with which she inspires her children, is this: Sacrifice for love; suffering for justice's sake. She wins a blessing for it. It is the last: "Blessed are they who suffer persecution for justice's sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." I have not brought the beatitudes to mind in connection with these Advent thoughts without reason. St. Paul has a promise of beatitude to those who think on these things--a comprehensive beatitude, the sum of all happiness: "And the God of peace shall be with you" [Footnote 117]--a blessing, my dear brethren, which I hope we may all enjoy when the coming Christmas shall bring the angelic salutation to our ears: "__Pax hominibus bonæ voluntatis!__" [Footnote 117: Phil. iv. 9.] -------------------- {322} Sermon XXII. Fraternal Charity. (For The Festival Of St. John The Evangelist.) I Epistle St. John ii. 10. "__He that loveth his brother abideth in the light, and there is no scandal in him__." We celebrate to-day the Feast of St. John the Evangelist, the Apostle who is distinguished in Holy Scripture as the disciple whom Jesus loved, and who is represented as leaning on the bosom of the Lord at the Last Supper. Now, we may ask what is the reason the Lord showed this marked preference and especial affection for St. John above the other Apostles? It must have been because St. John was more like the Lord than any of the others, for God must always love us in proportion as we approach His divine image and likeness. The more we put on Christ--that is, the more we are clothed with the thoughts, ideas, feelings, and dispositions of Christ, the more is Christ attracted to us in love. {323} Now, what was the characteristic virtue of this great Apostle, which rendered him so like to Christ and so dear to Him? It was his tender and overflowing love to his neighbor--that is, to all his fellow-men. He is pre-eminently the Apostle of fraternal charity, or of the love of one's neighbor. Nothing, then, will please St. John better today than to speak of the excellence of this virtue, which was the continual subject of his discourse. What, dear brethren, is the end and object for which we live in this world? Undoubtedly it is to acquire the love of God. This divine love will render us for ever blessed, and we shall be blessed just in the proportion we have acquired it. The greatest saints are those who have loved God best; the least in heaven are those who have loved Him least; but all must love God in some degree, or there is no place in heaven for them. Now, I assert that the easiest, shortest, and most efficient road to the love of God is the love of our neighbor, or of our fellow-man, who is designated by the word neighbor. I assert it on the authority of St. John himself, who has laid it down in the clearest manner. We read in the breviary of to-day this beautiful narrative of St. Jerome: "The blessed John the Evangelist, whilst he was living at Ephesus, in his extreme old age, was scarcely able to be brought to the church by the hands of his disciples, and could not weave together many words into a sentence. He did nothing at the different assemblies but repeat the same words, 'My little children, love one another.' At last the disciples and brethren who were present, getting tired of always hearing the same thing, said: Master, why do you always repeat this? He replied in a sentiment worthy of St. John: 'Because it is the precept of the Lord, and if this alone be observed it is sufficient.'" {324} How beautiful is this! "Little children, love one another," and, "This alone is sufficient." We must love one another with the sincerity, the artlessness, of little children. There must be no hypocrisy about our love; it must be genuine, and flow from the right fountain. And what is this fountain? It is the love of God. Our love of our fellow-men must proceed from the love of God. We must love him for the sake of God, and because God wishes us to love him, and because he represents God to us. There is a love which is not on account of God, but, on the contrary, opposed to God, and which destroys the love of God in us. A parent, for example, is distractedly fond of a child because the child is beautiful, or talented, or amiable, and this child is consequently indulged and spoiled; is educated for show and vanity, or, to sum it all up, exclusively for this short-lived world and its object. {325} Such love as this does not lead to God, but turns the soul away from Him. With passionate eagerness it fixes it on the present, as its last end and chief good, and quenches its thirst for God, who is the only last end and chief good for which it was created. We must love our neighbor, because we see in him an immortal soul, created to the image and likeness of God, and destined to participate at last in the glory and happiness of God. We must love our neighbor, because he has been bought by the blood of Jesus Christ, his God, who was willing to lay down His life for him, after thirty years of toil and hardship, suffering the agony of the cross. Now, dear brethren, let me explain this a little more practically. You see a person who is in some respects repugnant to you. His manners and ways of acting are not pleasant to you; indeed, some of his actions are very disagreeable. Well, then, if you are actuated in loving your neighbor by the love of God, you will not allow your mind to dwell on these things so far as to conceive a dislike or hatred, but, on the contrary, you will rise above such thoughts, by considering his relation to God. You will see God in him, and this will keep your mind sweet, gentle, and kind towards him. {326} This is what our Lord says: "You have heard what has been said: Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thy enemy; but I say unto you, Love your enemies; do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you, that you may be the children of your Father who is in heaven; who maketh His sun to rise upon the good and the bad, and raineth upon the just and the unjust. For if you love those that love you, what reward shall you have? Do not even the publicans the same? And if you salute your brethren only, what do you more? Do not also the heathen the same? Be ye perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." [Footnote 118] [Footnote 118: St. Matt. v. 43-48.] There, Christians, is the doctrine of our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ. If it is not yours also, is it proper to call you by His name, Christians? Should you not rather be called, according to His way of naming, heathens and publicans? But how many objections are raised against this plain and heavenly doctrine? How much repugnance and fighting against it! You see a poor man in the street, or in his miserable shanty. He is ragged and dirty, for rags and dirt are often necessary accompaniments of poverty. Do you see in him Jesus Christ? No; only an object of disgust. Instead of relieving him, you begin to reason. Why does he not go to work? {327} He is idle and shiftless. If he is relieved, he will be just the same. Instead of helping him, let him be forced by stress of poverty and starvation to find work. And after all, the poor man has done his best, and at least should not have to bear undeserved reproach, as well as his poverty. My dear brethren, how is it possible that we should have this right love of our neighbor, which is supernatural, unless we love him for God's sake; unless we hunger and thirst to please God and acquire His justice, and unless we pray constantly to God to grant us this wonderful effect of His goodness? Let us understand, then, that, if we will acquire the love of God, we must pray for the love of our neighbor, and then act it out in all sincerity whenever an opportunity offers itself to us. St. John tells us in his epistle: "How can we love God whom we have not seen, when we love not our neighbor whom we have seen?" This text deserves an explanation. You desire to love God more; you feel that this love is of more value to you than anything else; this prompts you to fall upon your knees and beg earnestly for it. You say My God, give me Thy love; give me a great decree of this love. Then comes the natural thought What shall I do to acquire this treasure? How shall I conduct myself and order my life, so as constantly to preserve and increase it? {328} If God would only show Himself to me, and I could behold His beauty, and experience His goodness, then I should know how to love Him. Why does He not reveal Himself? But all is dark, all is silent. God is hidden: we cannot form a picture of Him in our minds. We have never seen God at any time, and we shall not see Him as long as we remain in the flesh. But God and our Lord Jesus Christ walk the streets every day. We meet them whenever we go abroad. How is that? It is in the person of every one we meet, particularly of the poor, the miserable, and the despised. The promise is absolute: "Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of these, ye did it unto Me." Love one of these poor men, entertain a sentiment of compassion for him, and you have made a genuine act of love of God. Entertain an habitual love for him, and respect him for the sake of the One he represents, and you will form the habit of God's love in your soul. When St. Martin cut his cloak in two, and gave half of it to a poor man he met on the roadside, our Lord appeared to him the same night with the half cloak upon his shoulders, and said: "Martin the catechumen (St. Martin was at that time under instruction for his baptism) has clothed Me in this garment." {329} In the account of the last judgment, everything is described as being settled on this one principle. "Then the King shall say to them that shall be on the right hand: Come, ye blessed of My Father, possess the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry, and you gave Me to eat: I was thirsty, and you gave Me to drink: I was a stranger, and ye took Me in: naked, and ye clothed Me: sick, and ye visited Me. I was in prison, and ye came to Me. Then shall the just answer: Lord, when did we see Thee hungry, and fed Thee; thirsty, and gave Thee drink? and when did we see Thee a stranger, and took Thee in? or naked, and covered Thee? or when did we ever see Thee sick or in prison, and visit Thee? And the King answering, shall say to them: Amen, I say to you, as long as ye did it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye did it unto Me." [Footnote 119] [Footnote 119: St. Matt. xxv. 34-40.] This is what the saints understood and fully realized. St. Catharine of Sienna found an old woman sick of the leprosy. She was so disgusting and loathsome an object that everybody had deserted her, and she was perishing of neglect and starvation. The saint gladly took charge of her, cleansed her sores, prepared her food, and lavished upon her every possible attention. {330} The mother of the saint was not so charitable. She heard of her daughter's proceedings, and became very angry. In her fear of the infection, she forbade her to attend the sick woman any longer. But St. Catharine pleaded our Lord's case so strongly that her mother was obliged to yield. Then the old woman, overcome by her miseries, took a dislike to her, and repaid her kindness by a constant torrent of the foulest abuse. St. Catharine, in spite of all this, never relaxed her kindness a moment. As a further trial, she caught the infection, and her hands were all covered with the loathsome disorder. But nothing deterred her from her purpose until she had the satisfaction of receiving the last breath of this poor creature, who died in sentiments of the deepest contrition. Then the saint finished her work by burying her with her own hands, and, as she cast the earth into the grave, those hands became instantly freed from all traces of disease, and became white and more beautiful than ever before. If we love for God's sake, we shall love all, and no one will be excluded from our love. Love will flow from our hearts, like the water from a perpetual, inexhaustible fountain, which makes all the soil it waters fertile, producing rich fruits and beautiful flowers, These fruits and flowers of divine charity are well enumerated by St. Paul: "Charity is patient, is kind: charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely: is not puffed up; is not ambitious; seeketh not her own; is not provoked to anger; thinketh no evil: rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth: beareth all things; believeth all things; hopeth all things; endureth all things." [Footnote 120] [Footnote 120: I Cor. xiii. 4-7.] {331} Dear brethren, let us reflect on this virtue of fraternal charity, and resolve to increase in it. Let us be more pleasant and kinder in our way of speaking. Let us look more kindly upon others, and their ways of acting. Let us endeavor to maintain towards all such a manner of speaking and acting as we suppose our Lord Jesus Christ to have had, and, altogether, be more amiable than we have ever been before. Indeed, let us set no bounds within our own hearts to our love of our fellow-men. Every action of love, no matter how small, will increase the love of God in our hearts. Everyone will be another stroke of the oar which drives forward the little boat of our soul toward the kingdom of heaven. Every one will be an increase of merit and of eternal reward. 
60267	----	[Transcriber's note: This production is based on https://archive.org/details/fiveminutesermon02unknuoft/page/n6 Pages 46 and 47 are missing from the image file. Additional citations indicated by "USCCB", are based on the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops Bible found at http://usccb.org/bible/books-of-the-bible.] {i} Five-minute Sermons for Low Masses on All Sundays Of The Year, By Priests Of The Congregation Of St. Paul. Volume II. New York: The Catholic Publication Society Co., 9 Barclay Street. London: Burns & Oates. 1886 {ii} Copyright, 1886, by I. T. Hecker. All Rights Reserved. {iii} Preface. Repeated and urgent requests from both clergy and laity have induced the publication of this second volume of Five-Minute Sermons. They have all been preached in the Church of St. Paul the Apostle, New York, and published weekly in the _Catholic Review_. Choice has been made of such as are really little sermons, since there are many excellent manuals from which purely doctrinal instructions may be prepared. Yet they all contain, it is hoped, a solid basis of doctrine plainly put and appropriately illustrated. The main object is, however, to edify, to quicken the moral perceptions, and to move in a reasonable degree the religious emotions. Nearly all of these sermons may serve as skeletons for discourses of greater length; a fuller treatment of the topics, by means of familiar illustrations and more copious extracts from Scripture, will fit them for use at High Mass, or on Sunday evenings. ----------------------------- {iv} {v} Contents. First Sunday of Advent: Sermon I. The Spirit of Advent, 14 Sermon II. The Graces of Advent, 16 Sermon III. St. John the Baptist, 18 Second Sunday of Advent: Sermon IV. Fair-weather Christians, 23 Sermon V. The Immaculate Conception, 25 Sermon VI. The Total Abstinence Pledge, 28 Third Sunday of Advent: Sermon VII. Bad Company, 32 Sermon VIII. The Voice in the Wilderness, 34 Sermon IX. Penance, 37 Fourth Sunday of Advent: Sermon X. Fruits of Penance, 41 Sermon XI. Preparation for Christmas, 43 Sermon XII. Christmas Eve, 46 Sunday within the Octave of Christmas: Sermon XIII. Christmas Joy, 50 Sermon XIV. New Year's Eve, 52 Sermon XV. The Feast of the Holy Innocents, 55 The Epiphany: Sermon XVI. The Testimony of the Spirit, 59 Sermon XVII. Following God's Guidance, 63 {6} First Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XVIII. The Christian Home, 67 Sermon XIX. Jesus Teaching in the Temple, 70 Sermon XX. How our Saviour takes away Sin, 72 Second Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XXI. Profanity, 76 Sermon XXII. The Sin of Cursing, 79 Sermon XXIII. Reverence for the Name of God, 82 Third Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XXIV. Practical Faith, 86 Sermon XXV. Living up to our Faith, 89 Sermon XXVI. The Sacrament of Matrimony, 91 Fourth Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XXVII. The Ingratitude of Children, 95 Sermon XXVIII. Love of our Neighbor, 98 Fifth Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XXIX. The Christian Family, 102 Sermon XXX. The Duty of Good Example, 105 Sermon XXXI. Bearing one another's Burdens, 108 Sixth Sunday after Epiphany: Sermon XXXII. How to make Converts, 113 Sermon XXXIII. The Blessings of the Faith, 116 Sermon XXXIV. Good Example as a means of making Converts, 118 Septuagesima Sunday: Sermon XXXV. Bodily Mortification, 123 Sermon XXXVI. Sudden Death, 126 Sermon XXXVII Life's Purpose, 129 {7} Sexagesima Sunday: Sermon XXXVIII. Perseverance after a Mission, 134 Sermon XXXIX. Good Seed but no Harvest, 137 Sermon XL. The Uses of Temptation, 140 Quinquagesima Sunday: Sermon XLI. The Qualities of Christian Charity, 144 Sermon XLII. Delay of Repentance, 147 Sermon XLIII. Lenten Obligations, 150 First Sunday of Lent: Sermon XLIV. The Merit of Pasting and Abstinence, 154 Sermon XLV. Difficulties of Fasting, 157 Sermon XLVI. Wasted Opportunities, 159 Second Sunday of Lent: Sermon XLVII. The Joy of Penance, 164 Sermon XLVIII. Christian Perfection not Impossible, 167 Sermon XLIX. The Divine Presence in our Churches, 170 Third Sunday of Lent: Sermon L. Immodest Language, 174 Sermon LI. Honorary Church-Members, 177 Sermon LII. Half-hearted Christians, 180 Fourth Sunday of Lent: Sermon LIII. The Happiness of True Penance, 184 Sermon LIV. Liberty of Spirit, 187 Sermon LV. The Lust of the Eyes, 190 Passion Sunday: Sermon LVI. The Precious Blood, 194 Sermon LVII. Christ's Passion, 197 Sermon LVIII. Dangerous Companionship, 199 {8} Palm Sunday: Sermon LIX. Hardness of Heart, 203 Sermon LX. Spirit of Holy Week, 205 Easter Sunday: Sermon LXI. Easter Joy, 210 Sermon LXII. Easter and the Love of God, 212 Sermon LXIII. The Triumph of Christ, 215 Low Sunday: Sermon LXIV. How to use God's Gifts, 219 Sermon LXV. The Christian's Peace, 222 Sermon LXVI. True and Lasting Peace, 224 Second Sunday after Easter: Sermon LXVII. The Good Shepherd, 229 Sermon LXVIII. Dead Faith, 232 Sermon LXIX. Suffering False Accusations, 234 Third Sunday after Easter-- Feast of the Patronage of St. Joseph: Sermon LXX. Devotion to St. Joseph, 240 Sermon LXXI. Christ and the Church, 242 Fourth Sunday after Easter: Sermon LXXII. Evil Conversation, 246 Sermon LXXIII. Temptation, 248 Fifth Sunday after Easter: Sermon LXXIV. Sins of the Tongue, 252 Sermon LXXV. Perseverance in Prayer, 255 Sunday within the Octave of the Ascension: Sermon LXXVI. After a Mission, 259 Sermon LXXVII. Bearing Witness for our Lord, 261 Sermon LXXVIII. The Indwelling of the Holy Spirit, 263 {9} Feast of Pentecost, or Whit-Sunday: Sermon LXXIX. The Holy Ghost in the Church, 268 Sermon LXXX. The Guidance of the Holy Spirit, 271 Sermon LXXXI. The Easter Duty, 273 Trinity Sunday: Sermon LXXXII. The Divine Majesty, 277 Sermon LXXXIII. The Mystery of the Holy Trinity, 279 Sermon LXXXIV. The Divine Judgment, 282 Second Sunday after Pentecost, and Sunday within the Octave of Corpus Christi: Sermon LXXXV. Holy Communion, 286 Sermon LXXXVI. The Sacred Heart of Jesus, 289 Sermon LXXXVII. Ingratitude, 291 Third Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon LXXXVIII. Sinful Amusements, 295 Sermon LXXXIX. Divine Providence, 297 Sermon XC. How to Bear Burdens, 300 Fourth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon XCI. How to Suffer, 304 Sermon XCII. Good Works done in Mortal Sin, 306 Sermon XCIII. Fishing for Men, 309 Fifth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon XCIV. Forgiveness of Injuries, 314 Sermon XCV. Feast of Sts. Peter and Paul, 316 Sixth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon XCVI. The Divine Bounty, 321 Sermon XCVII. Feast of St. John the Baptist, 324 Sermon XCVIII. Idleness, 326 {10} Seventh Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon XCIX. Mortal Sin the Death of the Soul, 330 Sermon C. False Prophets, 332 Sermon CI. The Last Sin, 334 Eighth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CII. Spirit and Flesh, 339 Sermon CIII. The Business of the Soul, 342 Sermon CIV. The Judgments of God, 344 Ninth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CV. Justice and Mercy, 349 Sermon CVI. Neglect of Divine Warnings, 351 Sermon CVII. Living from Day to Day, 354 Tenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CVIII. Sympathy for Sinners, 358 Sermon CIX. Morning Prayers, 360 Sermon CX. Feast of St. Mary Magdalen, 363 Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXI. Want of Confidence in God, 367 Sermon CXII. Devotion to the Blessed Virgin, 369 Sermon CXIII. Gratitude, 373 Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXIV. The Good Samaritan, 377 Sermon CXV. Our Neighbors, 380 Sermon CXVI. Occasions of Sin, 382 Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXVII. Thanksgiving, 387 Sermon CXVIII. Shamelessness in Sinning, 389 Sermon CXIX. Dangers of Venial Sin, 392 {11} Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXX. The Poverty of Christ, 396 Sermon CXXI. Brotherly Love, 399 Sermon CXXII. Religion for Week-Days, 401 Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXIII. The Fruits of a Bad Life, 406 Sermon CXXIV. Sins of Parents, 408 Sermon CXXV. The Law of Charity, 411 Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXVI. Christian Humility, 415 Sermon CXXVII. Vanity, 418 Sermon CXXVIII. Behavior in Church, 420 Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXIX. Prayer for Sinners, 425 Sermon CXXX. The Christian Vocation, 427 Sermon CXXXI. Erroneous Views of Vocation, 430 Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXXII. Presumption of God's Mercy, 435 Sermon CXXXIII. Drunkenness, 437 Sermon CXXXIV. The Dignity and Happiness of Obedience, 440 Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXXV. Lying, 444 Sermon CXXXVI. Truthfulness 447 Sermon CXXXVII. White Lies, 449 Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXXXVIII. Christian Marriage, 453 Sermon CXXXIX. Mortification of our Lower Nature, 455 Sermon CXL. The Value of Time, 458 {12} Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXLI. Forgiveness of Injuries, 462 Sermon CXLII. Gossiping, 465 Sermon CXLIII. Mixed Marriages, 467 Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXLIV. Obedience to the Civil Authorities, 472 Sermon CXLV. Thanksgiving Day 475 Sermon CXLVI. The Communion of Saints, 477 Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CXLVII. Mixed Marriages, 481 Sermon CXLVIII. Imitation of the Saints, 484 Sermon CXLIX. Heaven, 486 Twenty-fourth or Last Sunday after Pentecost: Sermon CL. Marrying out of the Church, 491 Sermon CLI. Joy in God's Service, 494 Sermon CLII. Forgive and be Forgiven, 497 {13} _First Sunday of Advent_. Epistle. _Romans xiii._ 11-14, Brethren: Know that it is now the hour for us to rise from sleep. For now our salvation is nearer than when we believed. The night is passed, and the day is at hand. Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light; let us walk honestly as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not in contention and envy; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ. Gospel. _St. Luke xxi._ 25-33. At that time Jesus said to his disciples: There shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars: and upon the earth distress of nations, by reason of the confusion of the roaring of the sea and of the waves, men withering away for fear, and expectation of what shall come upon the whole world. For the powers of heaven shall be moved: and then they shall see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with great power and majesty. But when these things begin to come to pass look up and lift up your heads: because your redemption is at hand. And he spoke to them a similitude. See the fig-tree, and all the trees: when they now shoot forth their fruit, you know that summer is nigh; so you also when you shall see these things come to pass, know that the kingdom of God is at hand. Amen I say to you, this generation shall not pass away, till all things be fulfilled. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away. --------------------- {14} Sermon I. The Spirit Of Advent. _It is now the hour for us to rise from sleep._ --Romans xiii. 11. This life of ours is made up of beginnings. After the rest of the night we have on each succeeding day to begin again our round of work, and then comes the night again, when our work must be laid aside. So, too, does the life of our souls consist in great part of beginnings, though in the great work of saving our souls there should be no such thing as rest. This work must be unceasing, until that night comes wherein no man can work, the night of death, when our great Master shall demand of us an account of our labor. On this day, then, which is the beginning of the Church's year, it is well for us to pause and ask ourselves how we are fulfilling the task that is set before us. Are our souls asleep? Have our consciences been lulled into a false security concerning the state of our immortal souls? Are we careless or indifferent about the one thing needful for us--our soul's salvation? To each and every one of us to-day come the warning words of the Apostle, "Brethren, know that it is now the hour for us to arise from sleep." Now is the time for us to shake off our slothfulness, to rouse ourselves from our dangerous state of idleness and inactivity, to cast off the works of darkness and clothe ourselves in the armor of light, to put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and, arrayed in the strength which he gives, to walk honestly as in the day. "The night is passed," says St. Paul. {15} God grant that for each one of us the dark night of mortal sin may be for ever past and gone; that its terrible gloom may never again settle down upon our souls, shutting out the light of heaven, the pure and radiant light of God's grace. For "the day is at hand," the day of reckoning, the day of wrath and terror, when we shall all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ. The Church to-day warns us of the approach of that time. Year by year, day by day, hour by hour it is drawing nearer. "For now is our salvation nearer than when we believed." Yes, our salvation if we have been faithful, or our eternal damnation if God's judgment overtake us in the state of mortal sin. Therefore it is that the Church, upon this first Sunday of Advent, lifts up her voice to warn us of the coming of our Lord, telling us of his near approach, and bidding us to prepare to meet him. Will you heed this warning, or will you still put off the day of your conversion to God? Beware! God's warning may be given you to-day for the last time. "Behold, now is the acceptable time"; "it is now the hour to rise from sleep." There is still time for you to turn from your sins and begin again to serve God. Perhaps you have tried before and then have fallen back into old ways and habits of sin. Begin again. We must always be beginning if we would make any progress. We must examine our consciences at the end of each day, and find out how we have offended God, make earnest resolutions for the morrow, and then begin each day with the determination to avoid the faults of the day before. This is a sure means of perseverance. {16} And this beginning of the Christian year is a good time to take a fresh start in the affairs of our souls. During Advent the Church brings to our minds the consideration of the four last things. Death and judgment, heaven or hell are awaiting us. Begin this day, then, as though it were to be your last day on earth, and on each succeeding day for the rest of your life keep up this practice. "For as lightning cometh out of the east, and appeareth even unto the west, so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be." "Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness" now at the beginning of this holy season. Drunkenness, impurity, contention, and envy are, alas! far too common amongst us. "Let them be not so much as named among you, as becometh saints," mindful of your high calling in Christ. Then when the Judge appears, he will find you ready to meet him. Having begun each day with the intention of serving God, you will then be ready and fit to begin that day which shall have no end in that heavenly city which "needeth not sun nor moon to shine in it; for the glory of the Lord hath enlightened it, and the Lamb is the lamp thereof." --------------------- Sermon II. The Graces Of Advent. _The night is past, and the day is at hand. Let us, therefore, cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. Put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ._ --Epistle of the Day. To-day, dear brethren, we enter upon the season of preparation for the coming of Jesus Christ. For "the night is past and the day is at hand." "The day-spring, the Brightness of the everlasting Light, the Sun of righteousness," is come "to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death." {17} To give light to them that have been unfaithful to God's grace, to call them back--to turn them to a new life--this is the mission of our Saviour; and this is the call he makes upon us to-day--that we should return to him, "the Ruler of the house of Israel, who didst appear to Moses in the burning bush, and gave him the law in Sinai." You, dear brethren, were taught that law when the first rays of the light of reason lit up your soul. God wrote it on your hearts; you heard it from your parents lips; your teachers bade you love it and keep it. But have you done so? Have you not become like those whom of old God taught, and who would not listen, but went after false gods, who bowed down before idols of gold and silver, of wood and clay? Have you not bowed down like them when you preferred money-getting to serving God; when you were willing, for the sake of gold and silver, to risk the loss of your immortal souls? Have you not bowed down when you chose to gratify your lower instincts at the cost of your spiritual ruin? Have you not bowed down to idols of clay when you have steeped yourselves in drunkenness, in impurities, in the many sins of the flesh? Oh! surely you have need of the "wisdom that cometh out of the mouth of the Most High" to teach you "the way of prudence." Oh! surely you have need of "the Orient from on high," for you "sit in darkness and in the shadow of death." {18} But, dear brethren, "the night is past." "Let us, therefore, cast off the works of darkness"; "let us walk honestly." Oh! "put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ." "Behold Emmanuel, our King and Law giver," he for whom the nations sighed and their salvation, has come to save us--to save men whom he has made from the dust of the earth. Dear brethren, shall we be slow to go to him who comes with healing for our immortal souls? Tell it out among the people, and say, "Behold, God our Saviour cometh. Emmanuel is his name, and his name is great. Behold, he is my God, and I will glorify him; my father's God, and I will exalt him. The Lord our Law-giver, the Lord our King, cometh to save us." Begin this day to prepare for the joyous feast of Christmas. Cleanse your hearts by prayer and fasting; come to the sacraments and be washed in the blood of your Redeemer; come to his table and break the bread of true friendship, that the joy of your heart may be full when we shall celebrate that day of days, when the Word which "was made flesh dwelt among us." Truly "we have seen his glory," and "of his fulness we have all received." Let us never forget his mercy; let us remember "that it is now the hour for us to rise from sleep." ---------------- Sermon III. St. John The Baptist. _The angel said to him: Fear not, Zachary, for thy prayer is heard; and thy wife Elizabeth shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John; and thou shalt have joy and gladness, and many shall rejoice at his birth._ --Luke i. 13. {19} These words, my brethren, were spoken by the Angel Gabriel to Zachary, the father of St. John the Baptist, while he was engaged with his religious duties in the temple at Jerusalem. Before giving the account of the angel's visit St. Luke informs us that Zachary and his wife, Elizabeth, were both acceptable to God and obedient to the divine law. There are few who have received such commendation in the pages of Holy Scripture. It might have been surmised that Zachary led a good life, practising the virtues and avoiding the vices, since he belonged to the Jewish priesthood. Yet we find that his wife, Elizabeth, is mentioned as deserving equal praise with himself, for it is stated that "_they were both_ just before God, walking in all the commandments and justifications of the Lord without blame." Such is the brief account that St. Luke has given of the parents of St. John the Baptist. Though brief, it is enough to show that any son might well feel proud of parents such as they were--blameless in the sight of God. For many years they had lived together in the hill-country of Judea, conscientiously performing their duties, and cherishing the hope that they would be rewarded for their good actions. Like the rest of the Jews who remained faithful to the laws promulgated by Moses and the prophets, which God had made for Israel, they prayed earnestly for the coming of the Messias, the Orient from on high, who was ardently expected to descend from his throne in heaven in order to enlighten those in darkness and in the shadow of death, directing their steps into the way of peace. While serving God by strict fidelity to the commandments, they did not anticipate that an angel would be sent to visit them; they did not know until advanced in age that a son would be born to them who would be called the prophet of the Most High, the precursor of the son of David, appointed to prepare his ways. {20} That this blessing was unexpected is shown by the fact that Zachary hesitated to believe the message of the Angel Gabriel, and on account of this hesitation, this mistrust of the good tidings that God sent to him, he was deprived of the use of speech for several months. After the birth of St. John the Baptist his tongue was again endowed with the power to speak, and his words on that occasion, spoken under the influence of inspiration, have been preserved in the grand canticle known as the Benedictus, which is justly assigned to a prominent place in the Office of the Church. These considerations enable us to perceive what sort of a home St. John the Baptist had while he remained with his aged parents. From the knowledge we have of them, there is no reason to think that they were deprived of anything requisite to make their home happy and comfortable. Early in life, however, St. John manifested a peculiar preference for the lonely desert. In a special manner he was sanctified before his birth, and received the gifts of the Holy Ghost in an extraordinary degree. It was not because his fellow-creatures had proved deceptive, nor because sad experience had taught him that the glittering charms of the world are transient and wither into dust, that he resolved to live like a hermit, separated from his relatives. Joyfully he abandoned his family privileges, with all that seems to make life among men pleasant, and went forth among the wild rocks in the mountain solitudes to live alone with God. {21} Why was it that he made such a strange choice? The answer is, that God directed him to leave houses and lands, his home and kindred, and endowed him with the heroism needed for a solitary, penitential life. In obedience to the will of God, acting under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, he practised unusual mortification. He selected coarse raiment, made of camel's hair; he used a strange kind of food; he abstained entirely from the use of wine. By deeds of heroic penance, by extraordinary acts of self-denial, combined with the performance of his other duties, he advanced in the way of perfection. During this season of Advent we should invoke his intercession, and strive to remove the obstacles that impede the way of the Lord and the action of His grace in our sanctification. ------------------- {22} _Second Sunday of Advent._ Epistle. _Romans xv._ 4-13. Brethren: What things soever were written, were written for our instruction; that through patience and the comfort of the Scriptures, we might have hope. Now the God of patience and of comfort grant you to be of one mind one towards another, according to Jesus Christ: that with one mind, and with one mouth, you may glorify God and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Wherefore receive one another, as Christ also hath received you unto the honor of God. For I say that Christ Jesus was minister of the circumcision for the truth of God, to confirm the promises made to the fathers. But that the Gentiles are to glorify God for his mercy, as it is written: Therefore will I confess to thee, Lord, among the Gentiles, and will sing to thy name. And again he saith: Rejoice, ye Gentiles, with his people. And again: Praise the Lord, all ye Gentiles; and magnify him, all ye people. And again Isaias saith: There shall be a root of Jesse; and he that shall rise up to rule the Gentiles, in him the Gentiles shall hope. Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing: that you may abound in hope, and in the power of the Holy Ghost. Gospel. _St. Matthew xi._ 2-10. At that time: When John had heard in prison the works of Christ, sending two of his disciples he said to him: Art thou he that art to come, or look we for another? And Jesus making answer said to them: Go and relate to John what you have heard and seen. The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead rise again, the poor have the gospel preached to them. {23} And blessed is he that shall not be scandalized in me. And when they went their way, Jesus began to say to the multitudes concerning John: What went you out into the desert to see? A reed shaken with the wind? But what went you out to see? A man clothed in soft garments? Behold they that are clothed in soft garments are in the houses of kings. But what went you out to see? A prophet? yea, I tell you, and more than a prophet. For this is he of whom it is written: Behold, I send my angel before thy face, who shall prepare thy way before thee. ------------------- Sermon IV. Fair-Weather Christians. _What went you out into the desert to see? A reed shaken with the wind?_ --Gospel Of The Day. Our Lord asked this question of his disciples, my brethren, regarding his precursor, St. John the Baptist, whom also they had followed in his time. "Why," said he, "did you take such trouble to see him? Why did you think so much of him? Was it because he was like a reed shaken by the wind? No, but because he was just the opposite of that. You thought highly of him, you honored him as I myself honor him, because he did not shake and tremble at the breath of popular opinion; because he was not afraid of the world, or of all the powers that are in it; because he only thought of God, and of his duty; of the work that he had been sent to do." {24} But would our Saviour be able to praise us so highly, my brethren, if he should come down now in our midst? Would he not say rather that we were indeed like reeds, turning to one side or another, according to the wind that happens to be blowing? I am afraid that he would have too good reason to find fault with the words and actions of many who call themselves Christians, an who even pass for pretty good ones. Who are these people whom he would find fault with? There are plenty of them. They are what I should call fair-weather Christians. They go to church regularly, perhaps, and to the Sacraments, it may be, quite often; when they are with pious people they can be just as pious as anybody else. They say their prayers not only in church, but at home, too; they certainly try in a way to be good; sometimes at least they would not say or do anything wrong of their own accord. And when they are alone they do very well, too; they resist many temptations, and avoid a great deal of sin. They are not what one would call hypocrites; far from it; they have a good many virtues, within as well as on the outside. But the trouble with them is that they have little or none of what is commonly called "backbone." Alone or in good company they are all right; but take a look at them on the street, in the shop or factory, at their work or their amusements with their associates, and they do not stand the test so well. They laugh at every vulgar, filthy, and impure word that any one else pretends to think is funny and wants them to laugh at, or if they do not laugh out right they give a miserable, cowardly smile. They hear something said about the faith which they know is a vile falsehood, but they say nothing in reply; perhaps they even allow that there is some truth in it. {25} It takes a long while for any one to find out that they are Catholics who does not guess it by their names or know where they go to church; it takes a great deal longer to find out that they are supposed to be good ones. Now, what is the reason of this contemptible sneaking and meanness in those who ought to be brave and generous soldiers of Christ? It is just one thing. These people do not love God enough to dare to displease any one else for his sake. Most of them have got pluck enough when something else is concerned. They would resent an insult to themselves; perhaps for years they have not been on speaking terms with many people on account of some trifling slight or injury. But when God's honor and love are concerned, the first breath of disapproval keeps them from standing up for him, as the reed bends with the gentlest breeze which strikes it. Yes, that is the difficulty; these good people do not love God enough to stand up for him as all Christians worthy of the name should do. Let them think of this seriously. For if one does not love God enough to offend bad men for his sake, how can he love him above all things? And if one does not love God above all things, how can he be saved? ------------------- Sermon V. The Immaculate Conception. {26} The beautiful feast of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin being so near at hand, let us consider it this morning. The doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, then, my dear brethren, is simply this: that our Blessed Lady, though the offspring merely of human parents, like the rest of us, and naturally liable to inherit original sin from them as we have inherited it from ours, was nevertheless by the special providence and decree of God entirely preserved from it. She was preserved from it entirely, I say. This may be understood in two ways. First, it was never in her. It was not taken from her at the first moment of her existence, as it has been taken from us at baptism; no, it was not taken from her, for it was not in her even at that first moment. Secondly, she was entirely saved from its effects, not partly, as we have been. None of its consequences remained in her, as I have said they do in us. No, she was as if there had never been such a thing; except that her Son willed that she should suffer together with him, on account of its being in us. Now, my brethren, I hope you all understand this; for a great deal of nonsense is talked about this matter, especially by Protestants, most of whom have not the least idea what is meant by the Immaculate Conception of our Blessed Mother, and who yet object to it just as bitterly as if they did. They either confound it with her virginal motherhood, in which they themselves believe and yet seem to object to our believing it, or they accuse us of saying that she was divine like her Son, our Lord. If they would only examine they would find that what the Church teaches is simply this: that our Lady is a creature of God like ourselves, having no existence at all before the time of her Immaculate Conception; but that she is a pure and perfect creature, the most pure and perfect that God has ever made; immaculate, that is to say, spotless; free from any stain or imperfection, especially from the fatal stain of original sin. {27} And that the reason why God made her so was that she was to be His own mother, than which no higher dignity can be conceived. If they object to this, let them do so; but let them at least know and say what they are objecting to. Let us hope that some Protestants, at least, will not object to this doctrine when they understand it. But perhaps some of them may say: "This is all very good, but what right has the pope, or any one else at this late day, to make it a part of the Christian faith?" And it may be that even some Catholics will find the same difficulty. I will answer this question now, though it is a little off of our present subject, on account of the prominence which has been given to it of late. The answer is simply this: The pope has not added any thing at all to the Christian faith in defining the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. He has no more done so than the Council of Nicæa did in defining the doctrine of the Divinity of our Lord. You remember, my brethren, perhaps, that from this council the Nicene Creed, which is said or sung at Mass, takes its name. It was called together to condemn the errors of some who maintained that our Lord was not truly God. And it solemnly defined that he was. Very well; was that adding anything to the Christian faith? Of course not; it was simply declaring what the Christian faith was, to put an end to the doubts which were arising about it. That is plain enough, is it not? {28} Now what was it that the pope did in defining the Immaculate Conception? Exactly the same thing. He defined what the faith really was to put an end to doubts about it. The only difference was, that those who opposed or doubted the Immaculate Conception of our Lady were not so much to blame as those who opposed or doubted the Divinity of our Lord, or even in many cases not at all to blame. It was not such a prominent part of the faith, and had been more obscured by time. But the action of the pope and the council in the two cases was just the same. ------------------- Sermon VI. The Total Abstinence Pledge. _The angel said to him: Fear not, Zachary, for thy prayer is heard; and thy wife Elizabeth shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John; and thou shalt have joy and gladness, and many shall rejoice at his birth. For he shall be great before the Lord; and shall drink no wine nor strong drink; and he shall be filled with the Holy Ghost even from his mother's womb; and he shall convert many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God._ --Luke i. 13-16. My brethren, the message brought from heaven by an angel deserves careful examination, because the angel acts as a messenger from God. A little reflection will convince us that the message delivered to Zachary by the Angel Gabriel contained a very peculiar prediction concerning the total abstinence from wine and strong drink, which St. John the Baptist practised throughout his life. In other matters no special directions were given regulating his acts of self-denial. {29} No mention is made of his raiment in the angel's message; neither was any information communicated in regard to his choice of food. Hence there is a special significance in the declaration which the Angel Gabriel put forth when he predicted that St. John the Baptist would abstain from the use of wine and strong drink. This passage of Holy Scripture, therefore, furnishes a strong proof in favor of total abstinence. In the Book of Leviticus, x. 9, and in the Book of Numbers, vi. 2, as well as in the writings of the prophet Jeremias, xxxv. 61-69, there are texts to be found which show that total abstinence was recognized long before the birth of St. John the Baptist. But on account of his intimate relations with the Holy Family, and on account of the extraordinary approval bestowed upon him by our Lord, by which he was canonized, so to speak, before his death, St. John the Baptist is the most prominent of all the total abstainers mentioned in the Bible. Considered as an antidote, an effectual safeguard against the degrading vice of intemperance, the practice of total abstinence is now defended not only by examples from Holy Writ, but also on arguments based on common sense and experience. It is regarded as the heroic form of the virtue of temperance, which may be meritoriously practised by those who have never been addicted to drunkenness. The determination to renounce even the lawful use of strong drink is especially commendable as a means of self-preservation for young men. More than any other class of society, they are assailed by temptations to excessive drinking; and by unwise and unscrupulous friends they are often taught to regard drunkenness as a pardonable weakness. {30} Undoubtedly, then, it is a wise act for a young man at the present time to erect a strong barrier, a wall of defence, to protect himself from a most dangerous and destructive vice. For occasional and habitual drunkards, however, who wish to reform and live in state of friendship with God, total abstinence is not a mere act of heroism, but something indispensably necessary. The pledge for them is simply a firm purpose of amendment, a manifestation of their desire to avoid that which they know has been for them a proximate occasion of sin. In many cases total abstinence, though it may be a stern remedy, is the only sure preventive of intemperance, and is imperatively demanded for the spiritual and temporal welfare of numerous families. The man who has offended God and debased himself by drunkenness cannot obtain an unconditional pardon. To obtain forgiveness from God he must have a sorrow for past offences, a determination to do better in the future, and a willingness to atone for his sins. What he must do in the future to secure his safety can be ascertained by examining his past experience. By the application of these principles, especially in the tribunal of penance, the growth of virtue is fostered and the progress of vice is retarded. In this way the Church proclaims to each individual the great lessons which St. John taught by the banks of the Jordan. To all of her children she repeats during this season of Advent the admonition uttered long ago by the voice crying in the wilderness: Prepare ye the way of the Lord; make straight his paths. ------------------- {31} _Third Sunday of Advent._ Epistle. _Philippians iv._ 4-7. Rejoice in the Lord always: again, I say, rejoice. Let your modesty be known to all men: The Lord is nigh. Be not solicitous about anything: but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your petitions be made known to God. And the peace of God which surpasseth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Gospel. _St. John i._ 19-28. At that time: The Jews sent from Jerusalem priests and levites to John, to ask him: Who art thou? And he confessed, and did not deny: and he confessed: I am not the Christ. And they asked him: What then? Art thou Elias? And he said: I am not. Art thou the prophet? And he answered: No. They said therefore unto him: Who art thou, that we may give an answer to them that sent us? what sayest thou of thyself? He said: I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord, as said the prophet Isaias. And they that were sent, were of the Pharisees. And they asked him, and said to him: Why then dost thou baptize, if thou be not Christ, nor Elias, nor the prophet? John answered them, saying: I baptize with water; but there hath stood one in the midst of you, whom you know not. The same is he that shall come after me, who is preferred before me: the latchet of whose shoe I am not worthy to loose. These things were done in Bethania beyond the Jordan, where John was baptizing. ------------------- {32} Sermon VII. Bad Company. In one of his epistles (2 Timothy iii. 1-5) St. Paul speaks of _dangerous times_ for Christians, when "men shall be lovers of themselves, covetous, haughty, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, wicked, without affection, without peace, slanderers, incontinent, unmerciful, without kindness, traitors, stubborn, puffed up, and lovers of pleasure more than of God; having an appearance, indeed, of piety, but denying the power thereof." At the present time there is in the world, especially in populous cities, no small number of men who have the combination of vices so forcibly described by the Apostle St. Paul. In some places they may be in the majority, and have the power to enforce their depraved views on their righteous neighbors. By their slanders they can revile virtue; by their blasphemies they endeavor to bring odium on God's plan of ruling the world. Their hatred of religion is manifested not only in the regulation of personal affairs, but also in their business methods, and in their utterances on public questions. If these stubborn, puffed-up lovers of sensuality, traitors to God, who are without affection and without peace, could be assigned to a reservation in some corner of the world, their range of influence would be kept within a definite area. But they are like their master the devil, roaming from place to place, every where seeking the destruction of men's souls. {33} Hence it is an important matter, and especially for Catholic young men, to consider the injurious results of the unavoidable contact with those in the world who are more or less infected with erroneous views, or have become the victims of debasing vices. Such characters are to be found in nearly every department of business. It often happens that a young man, when he begins to work, is obliged to enter a sphere beyond the control of his parents, where he will be in close proximity to blatant infidels, who claim an intellectual superiority on account of their unbelief. Business engagements may compel a Catholic young man to be within hearing of shallow sceptics, who take every opportunity to ask questions--not to get information, but merely to ventilate their contempt for all religious teaching. These hostile influences have produced in many of our young men very deplorable results. By a sort of indifference, resembling the dry rot, they have allowed themselves to get into a very unsafe state of mind regarding their duties to God. Enlightened self-interest should prompt every young man to keep a sharp lookout for all that is injurious to him. He may have the best religious training, together with the virtuous surroundings of a good home, but these will not be sufficient without his own personal activity. If he selects by preference heretics and freethinkers as the companions of his leisure hours; if he is so puffed up with the idea of his own ability that he can find no Catholic associates worthy of his notice; if he is so confident of his own strength that he habitually neglects to receive Holy Communion, he has become a traitor to the King of Heaven. Our Lord wants his followers to attain the highest standard of human excellence. {34} To those who love him and fearlessly keep his commandments he gives the courage which belongs to true manliness; and their piety has power to surmount every obstacle on the way to heaven. ------------------- Sermon VIII. The Voice In The Wilderness. _Make straight the way of the Lord._ --John i. 23. This expression, dear brethren, is no new one in Holy Scripture, and it fell on no unaccustomed ears. More than seven hundred years before Jesus Christ the great prophet Isaias spoke about "the voice of one crying in the desert: Make straight in the wilderness the paths of our God." Again, three hundred years later, another prophet, Malachias, wrote: "Behold, I send my angel, and he shall prepare the way before my face." Again, about six months before Jesus Christ was born, an aged priest, Zacharias, took his own little child, who was only eight days old, in his arms, and in the beautiful hymn of the _Benedictus_ says of him: "Thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the Most High; for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his way." You know, dear brethren, who this little child was, who was the burden of all this prophetic song. You know it was St. John the Baptist. And you know, too, the mighty work he had to do. And now, in this morning's Gospel, it is St. John the Baptist himself speaking: "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Make straight the way of the Lord." {35} Now, how is this "way of the Lord" to be "made straight" in the spiritual desert of our hearts? Well, the prophet Isaias tells us that there are five things which we have to do in this matter: The first, "every valley shall be exalted"; the second, "every mountain and hill made low"; the third, "the crooked become straight"; the fourth, "the rough ways plain"; and the fifth, "the glory of the Lord revealed." He begins, you see, by telling us that the valleys must be exalted. And don't you think that these "valleys" are a very good likeness of all the things which we have left undone in our lives? All these abysses of idleness, of neglect, of carelessness, of indifference, which lie in the wilderness of our sinful past, these have to be filled up. Christ our Lord cannot come to us so long as there are such great holes in the road. We must set to work and "exalt" them by throwing into our religious life all the pains and care and diligence and faithfulness we can. Then there are the "mountains and hills," which must be made low. For oftentimes, when the Evil One sees that a man cannot be altogether discouraged from serving God, then he turns round and persuades him that he _is_ serving God very well indeed; that he may be proud to think how often he has resisted temptation, how often overcome difficulties, how often done great things for Christ's sake. So arise the vast mountains of pride and self-will and self-conceit. But be sure our Lord will not climb over these to come to you. You must first get them out of the way. They must be made low, if you would enter into life: for it is written, "God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble." {36} Then the "crooked places"--I suppose you know what they are--all crooked ways of lying and deceit and untruthfulness. We call a truthful person _straightforward_, because he does not turn about to this side or to that in what he says, but goes straight to the truth. Well, whatever is not straightforward is crooked, and the crooked path is one which Christ will not walk in. So we must try every day to go on more and more straightforwardly with what God would have us do, according to the saying in the Proverbs, "Let thine eyes look straight on, ... decline not to the right hand, nor to the left, and the Lord will bring forward thy ways in peace." Once more: there are the "rough places." Rough tempers, rough words, and rough manners; such feelings as spite, and anger, and ill nature, and revenge; as cutting and cruel words, and quarrelling and fighting. Such rough places must be made very plain and smooth if the road is to be fitted for the feet of our meek and gentle Lord. And, lastly: "The glory of the Lord shall be revealed." So shall it indeed be to those that are found worthy to enter into the kingdom of heaven. But what that glory is who shall tell? St. John could not. "Beloved," he says, "we are now the sons of God; and it hath not yet appeared what we shall be." St. Paul could not, for when he was caught up into heaven he tells us that he heard words "which it is not granted to man to utter." Isaias could not. "From the beginning of the world," he says, "they have not heard; the eye hath not seen, O God! besides thee, what things thou hast prepared for them that wait for thee." All we know is, that this glory shall be very great. And if we serve God faithfully here we shall one day see it, and shall one day know. We shall awake after his likeness and be satisfied therewith. ------------------- {37} Sermon IX. Penance. _For now the axe is laid to the root of the tree._ --Matthew. iii. 10. St. John Baptist, my brethren, as you know, retired to the desert at an early age, and led there an austere and solitary life, eating coarse and unpalatable food, abstaining from wine and strong drink, cutting off all unnecessary enjoyments of the senses, and giving himself up to prayer and meditation. What was his special motive in this extraordinary course of penance? It was that he might worthily prepare himself for the office which had been as signed to him--that of disposing men's hearts to recognize and receive our Lord when he should come as their Redeemer. It was by penance alone that those hearts could be so disposed, and he was to be specially the apostle of penance; hence he had to give a signal example of it in his own person; for preaching, however eloquent, is of comparatively little effect unless the preacher practises the virtues to which he exhorts others; and the power of his preaching will be in proportion to the illustration which it finds in his own life. {38} Therefore, though it was not necessary for St. John, sanctified as he was even before his birth, to cut off all other sources of pleasure in order to fill his soul with the joy that comes from the love of God, and though he had no sins to atone for, for his life had been free from blame, still he took up this course of penance in order to show forth even more plainly than by his words the need that his hearers would have, in their measure, to do likewise, if they were to share in the redemption to come. For now, as he told them, the axe was to be laid to the root of the tree. God's chosen people, the Jews, whom he had specially watched over for so many years, whom he had often chastised and corrected, and had brought back to his favor when they profited by his visitations, they were no more to be thus dealt with. The tree which had sprung from the seed of Abraham was not to be allowed any longer to stand with merely some lopping and pruning; no, now, if it still would not bring forth the good fruit of a thorough and genuine penance, it was to be cut down and cast into the fire. It was the supreme test which was approaching; if the people whom he had chosen would stand it, they should still retain their place; otherwise they should be rejected as a nation, and only those among them who would truly turn to their God should be saved. My brethren, St. John is still preaching this doctrine of penance to us. The Church of the New Law is not on her trial, as was that of the Old; no, her Divine Founder has promised that she shall endure to the end of the world. But we, each one of us, have to take the words of his precursor to ourselves. We are called by the name of Christ; yes, but that will not save us. St. John said to the Jews: "Think not to say within yourselves, we have Abraham for our father." So we are not to think ourselves as belonging to Christ, unless we have cast out from our hearts and souls what puts a fatal obstacle to his entrance into them. His axe will be laid to our root also, unless we on our part lay the axe to the root of our sins. {39} What is this root of sin in us? It is just this desire of sensual indulgence against which St. John in his life as well as in his doctrine came to make the strongest of protests. If we wish not to bring forth the fruits of sin, we must lay the axe to its root. We must practise penance and mortification, not indeed always to the degree in which he practised it, but at least so far as it is necessary that we may keep the law of God. We must not dally with those things which are dangerous to us, innocent though they may be to others. Our Lord has told us that if even our eyes and hands themselves are an occasion of sin we must pluck them out or cut them off; if, then, there be anything we enjoy, but can really do with out, we must not make a pretext of the good use which we might make of it if it really is plain that we will abuse it, but must resolutely cast it away. If we would avoid the bitter fruit which will naturally grow we must lay the axe to the root of the tree. ------------------- {40} _Fourth Sunday of Advent._ Epistle. 1 _Corinthians iv._ 1-5. Brethren: Let a man so look upon us as the ministers of Christ, and the dispensers of the mysteries of God. Here now it is required among the dispensers, that a man be found faithful. But as to me it is a thing of the least account to be judged by you or by human judgment: but neither do I judge my own self. For I am not conscious to myself of anything, yet in this am I not justified: but he that judgeth me, is the Lord. Therefore judge not before the time; until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts: and then shall every man have praise from God. Gospel. _St. Luke iii._ 1-6. Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Cæsar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and Philip his brother tetrarch of Iturea and the country of Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilina, under the high-priests Annas and Caiphas: the word of the Lord came to John, the son of Zachary, in the desert. And he came into all the country about the Jordan, preaching the baptism of penance for the remission of sins: as it is written in the book of the words of Isaias the prophet: A voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled: and every mountain and hill shall be brought low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways plain And all flesh shall see the salvation of God. ------------------- {41} Sermon X. Fruits Of Penance. _Bring forth therefore fruit worthy of penance._ --Matthew. iii. 8. St. John Baptist in these words, my dear brethren, teaches us, as he taught those who came to him, that penance, if it be true and genuine, must bring forth its proper fruit. Every repentance, if it be sincere, every confession, if it be really good, must be followed by a good life. If any confession is not so followed, it must needs be a delusion; though it should have been accompanied by torrents of tears, and the sins exposed as perfectly as God himself knows them. And, moreover, the tree which brings forth the good fruit should continue to bear it; it should not only for a few days or weeks give this proof that it is what it should be, and then have him who planted it come to seek fruit on it and find none. Yet how often do we find sinners who come to confession with what would seem to be the best dispositions very soon back just where they were before! How discouraging it is to the priest to find the fruits of a mission which seemed to be so promising reduced down almost to nothing for so many who seemed to profit by it; to spend long hours, to wear away his strength, instructing, exhorting, and absolving, and to have so little return from his labor for God and for souls! {42} What is the reason of all this failure of what began so well? Of course it is partly that the tree planted by the grace of God in the Sacrament of Penance was not tended afterwards. Its life was not supplied to it, as it should have been, by the frequent renewal of confession and reception of Holy Communion. But there was a difficulty further back than that; a want of something at the start, which, indeed, was the reason that the sacraments were not regularly received. What was this difficulty? It was a want of a thorough earnestness; of an understanding of the greatness of the work that was undertaken, and of a real determination to sacrifice everything in order to accomplish it. It is a great undertaking which one commits one's self to in coming to reconcile himself with God after a sinful life. The task is not merely to examine his conscience, to tell his sins plainly and without concealment, and to feel heartily sorry for them; that is a great part of it, but by no means all. There is a great deal left, and that is to leave them for good; to quit company with them for ever. And this is not such an easy matter. When, one has lived so that his whole pleasure has been in sin, in drunkenness and debauchery, in filthy conversation, in bad actions and bad thoughts, it will perhaps seem almost like giving up life itself to part with them. The penitent sinner has not all at once become an angel; his whole nature has been warped and twisted out of place by sin, and, though the guilt of the sin has gone, the effects are there; his soul, like a limb out of joint, has much to suffer before it can get set right again. A man must make up his mind, when he comes to serve God after serving the devil, that he has got an uphill road to travel; if he does not, he will not persevere. Labor and suffering, self-denial and mortification, he has to face these manfully. His consolation, his happiness, as well as his strength, have got to come from God. {43} If one understands this he will seek that happiness and that strength again where he first found it--in confession and Communion. But if he does not, if he thinks that all will go right now without any more trouble, his old nature and habits will claim their dues, and he will soon be back in his sins again. Yes, we must cut right down to the root of sin if we wish to bring forth the fruits of penance, and must make up our minds to suffer the pain that this cutting will bring. Occasions of sin must be avoided, appetites must be denied, contempt and ridicule must be faced; we must pray, we must struggle, we must resist even to blood; we must put our former life to death, that Christ may live in us. For, as St. Paul tells us: "If we be dead with him, we shall live also with him; if we suffer, we shall also reign with him." There is no other way. Let us not shrink from this pain and this conflict; that would be the greatest mistake of all. But let us understand it, that when the trial comes, as it surely will, it may not find us unprepared. ------------------- Sermon XI. Preparation For Christmas. _Prepare ye the way of the Lord._ --Matthew iii. 3 We are such unprofitable servants that we have much to do to prepare the way of the Lord in our hearts. If we have done all that is required of us we are, nevertheless, unprofitable servants, and unless we believe this we are spiritually blind. {44} The better the opinion which we have of ourselves the worse is our spiritual condition. The good opinion, than which nothing can be more false, which we have of ourselves prepares the way for a fall into sin. The way of the Lord, the way of salvation, is found by humility, which always leads to penance. The holy Council of Trent says that "the whole Christian life ought to be a perpetual penance." How few realize this, because they think they are what they really are not! Now, if penance be the life of the Christian in the state of grace, it must be a crying necessity for one who is in the state of sin. What food is to the starving man penance is to the soul in this unhappy state. Penance is the preparation required of us for the coming feast of Christmas. This is the lesson of Advent. For four weeks the purple vestments, the prayers and ceremonies of the church, and the fasts on Fridays have been appealing to our eyes and ears, if not to our hearts, to prepare in this way. The wise man views the obligation which he is under to do penance as very urgent. He banishes timidity and cowardice and puts his hand to the plough with courage and confidence. The foolish man hates to hear of penance, because his passions have got the mastery. When asked to keep the commandments and fulfil the duties of his state, he says: "I cannot." To bridle his passions and give up bad habits seem to him too hard a task. {45} Now, if you should consult any man who has done penance faithfully, so as to persevere in God's grace for years, he would say the foolish man's view of penance is a false one. God is more merciful and lenient than we imagine. It is the devil who dresses up penance as something repulsive. In urging upon you to prepare for Christmas by penance my first words are: "Take courage." "Taste and see how sweet the Lord is." St. Leo says "the cause of the reparation which we make for our sins is the mercy of God." It is our way of loving him who first loved us. How well the prophet Isaias describes this penance when he says: "The Lord says, I will lead the blind in the way in which they have not known; in the ways which they have not known I will make them walk. I will change their darkness into light, their crooked ways into ways that are straight, I will accomplish these words in them and will not abandon them. I am found," says God, "by those not seeking me, and I have appeared openly to those who have not asked for me." We see by these words how much the grace of God assists us, and how God mercifully forgets our past sins when we do penance sincerely. But our penance must be sincere. We must "bring forth fruit worthy of penance," says St. John the Baptist, the precursor of our Lord. It matters not if we are "the offspring of vipers," as the holy Baptist called the multitude who approached him for penance, provided "we lay the axe to the root of the tree." Now, the words of the prophet, instead of repelling sinners, attracted them. The publicans who were farthest from God came and asked: "Master, what shall we do?" And they received the gentle ... {46} [Page 46 missing] {47} [Page 47 missing] {48} ... which should be our chief one at Christmas, now that the days of innocent childhood are past. We do not hate sin from our hearts; we even cling to it; at best we make compromises with it. Mortal sin, perhaps, we try to avoid, but venial faults do not trouble us; this is the best that can be said for most of what may be called good Christians. And how many there are who come outwardly to worship before the manger of Bethlehem, but with hearts entirely turned from their God, who lies there in cold and poverty for their sakes, pleading with them for his sake to give up their sinful habits! How many go on offending him at this holy time, with out repentance, almost without remorse! Hatred of sin; yes, that is what we want if we would be happy at Christmas. And now is the time to learn to hate it. For surely the love of God comes easier to us now, if we will only try to obtain it, than at any other time, unless, perhaps, on Good Friday, when we see the sacrifice now begun accomplished. And the love of God is the hatred of sin, which is the only thing which he hates, the one cause of all his pain. Do not let this Christmas go by, then, my dear brethren, without the joy which should come with it. Do not let this opportunity pass of acquiring that love of our dear Lord which will make you really hate and trample under foot all that offends him, and which will make you rejoice beyond measure that he has put it in your power to do so. Pray, now, at least that you may learn to love him; that you may enter into the joy of knowing not merely that he can save you, but that he has saved you from your sins. ------------------- {49} _Sunday within the Octave of Christmas._ Epistle. _Galatians iv._ 1-7. Brethren: As long as the heir is a child, he differeth nothing from a servant, though he be lord of all: but is under tutors and governors until the time appointed by the father: even so we, when we were children, were in bondage under the elements of the world. But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent his Son, made of a woman, made under the law: that he might redeem those who were under the law; that we might receive the adoption of sons. And because you are sons, God hath sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying: Abba, Father. Therefore now he is no more a servant, but a son. And if a son, an heir also through God. Gospel. _St. Luke ii._ 33-40. At that time: Joseph, and Mary the mother of Jesus, were wondering at these things, which were spoken concerning him. And Simeon blessed them, and said to Mary his mother: Behold this child is set for the ruin, and for the resurrection of many in Israel, and for a sign which shall be contradicted. And thy own soul a sword shall pierce, that out of many hearts thoughts may be revealed. And there was a prophetess, called Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Aser; she was far advanced in years, and had lived with her husband seven years from her virginity. And she was a widow until fourscore and four years; who departed not from the temple, by fastings and prayers serving night and day. {50} Now she at the same hour coming in, gave praise to the Lord; and spoke of him to all that looked for the redemption of Israel. And after they had performed all things according to the law of the Lord, they returned into Galilee, to their own city, Nazareth. And the child grew, and waxed strong, full of wisdom: and the grace of God was in him. ------------------- Sermon XIII. Christmas Joy. _Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy._ --Luke ii. 10. There is hardly any one, my brethren, who lives where this feast of Christmas is kept who does not feel a special joy in it. Why do we say that "Christmas comes but once a year," if not because we feel that there is nothing else that can take its place? We look forward to it months beforehand; when it comes, we keep it as long as we can and let it go with regret. Why is it that it has such a warm place in our hearts? Is it merely that it is by common consent a great holiday; that it is a breathing-place in the bustle and hurry of life, a time for meeting our friends, for giving and receiving tokens of affection and regard, a time of feasting and making merry? This has some thing to do with it, but it is not all. For if this were all it would be possible to make by law a holiday like this, which no one has ever succeeded in doing. The early settlers of this country, in a mistaken zeal against church festivals, endeavored to make a substitute for Christmas; but the failure of their attempt has driven their descendants back to the observance of this feast, though not to the church which gives it to them. {51} Yes, we all feel that the joy of Christmas is a thing not made to order. It comes from a source which lies in the very mystery which we commemorate; and, even though we do not meditate or reflect on it, the stream from this source diffuses itself through our life and sweetens all the other joys which come at this time. And they come because of it; we make merry outwardly because we are, and have cause to be glad at heart. And what is this cause and source of joy? Is it because Christ our Lord has come to save us from sin and eternal ruin? No, it is not simply that; for we celebrate our salvation, our redemption, our ransom from the power of death and hell more specially at Easter than now. That is the festival of our Lord's triumph and our deliverance; it should and does open heaven to our souls, and give them a promise and almost a foretaste of it. But still it does not come home to our hearts as this beautiful time of Christmas does. And no wonder; for at Easter we cannot but feel that our Lord, though triumphant and glorious, and promising us a share in his triumph and glory, still is separated from us. He has passed the portals of death, he has risen from the grave, he has put on immortality. We cannot follow him where he has gone till we have freed ourselves from all the stains of earth, till we have been purified and washed by penance in his Precious Blood. He has passed from mortal to immortal life, and it is the raising of the mortal to the immortal, of earth to heaven, that Easter celebrates. {52} And this, though indeed it is the object of all our hope, is so high that we, sinners that we are, cannot fully make it our present joy. But Christmas is heaven come down to earth. It is the God of heaven condescending to us; taking our weakness upon him, sympathizing with us, and asking us for sympathy and love. He hides his majesty and glory; he veils the splendor of his face; he puts aside all that could distinguish him from ourselves. He invites us to come to him with out fear; he asks only that, sinful though we be, we should try to love him as he loves us. Christmas is the sight of the Creator begging for the love of his creatures, and humbling himself that he may obtain it; that is the reason why it goes to the heart of all who have any heart to give. Let us then, in this happy season, enter into this joy which is the cause of all the rest which we have, which is so easy for us, which has come to our doors, and only asks that it should be let in. But let the love which goes with it be not a mere passing feeling, to bear no fruit in our lives. Let it bring us indeed to him who has come down to us; let our joy be crowned and perfected by a real return of our hearts to him who has done so much to win them; let us receive him in deed and in truth in his holy sacraments, and never let him go again. ------------------- Sermon XIV. New Year's Eve. _Be sober._ 2 Timothy. iv. 5. {53} Brethren, those two little words of St. Paul in the epistle of to-day contain excellent advice, especially to-day, on the eve of the new year. How much woe it would hinder, how many families it would save from ruin, how many souls from hell, could they be made a common watchword in any large city in this country during the year 1883! But do you wish me to tell you the easiest way to be sober? It is to take the total abstinence pledge. What does a man do when he takes the pledge? Just what the farmer does who, seeing that his fence is about high enough to keep the cattle out of the grain, makes it just one rail higher; for he knows that there may be one beast wilder than the rest who will leap over an ordinary fence. So a prudent man, seeing the ravages of the vice of intemperance among his friends, dreads some taint of it hidden in his own nature; dreads some moment of weakness during the passing of the convivial glass, or during some depression of spirits or foolish mirth. So he puts all danger out of the question by the pledge. For if there be danger from an inherited appetite or from a convivial disposition, or from prosperity or adversity, there is no mistake about this: the man who does not drink a single drop cannot drink too much. But again: what does a man do who takes the pledge? Just what the kind mother does who wants to induce her sick child to take the bitter medicine--she tastes it herself. The pledge is taken by a man who may not need it for his own sake, but who loves another who does need it. It is taken in order to give good example. It is not only a preventive for one's self, but for those who may be led by our influence. It is one great means that fathers and mothers use in order to save their children from the demon of drunkenness. {54} Oh! how pleasing to God are those parents who practise total abstinence by way of good example! Oh! how blessed is the home from which intoxicating drink has been utterly banished! How wise are those parents who thus teach their children that intoxicating drink, though it may be used with innocence, must always be used with caution! Children reared in such a home know well enough how to avoid treating, frequenting saloons, and convivial habits of every sort. Such parents not only obey the Apostle's injunction, "Be sober," but do the very best possible thing to induce those whom they love to obey it also. But once more: what does a man do who takes the pledge? He offers something to God in atonement for the sin of drunkenness. And herein is the best use of the pledge. It combines all the other good purposes of it. It puts the top rail of double safety on the fence that keeps the beast out of the garden of the soul; it sets up the strong inducement of good example; but more than all it consecrates everything to God by uniting it to our Lord's thirst on the cross. Brethren, why was it that, when our Lord suffered agony of soul, he complained in such words as would be apt to move the drunkard more than any other sinner: "O my Father! if it be possible, let this _cup_ pass from me." "O my Father! if this _cup_ may not pass away from me except I _drink_ it, thy will be done." Is there no special significance in his choice of those words? And listen to the account St. John gives of our Lord's physical agony: "Jesus, knowing that all things were accomplished that the Scriptures might be fulfilled, saith, _I thirst!_ ... And they filled a sponge with vinegar and put it to his mouth. {55} When Jesus, therefore, had received the vinegar he said: It is finished! And he bowed his head and gave up the ghost." Thirst was the only bodily torment he complained of. Had he no special purpose in this? So the man who takes the pledge suffers thirst in union with Christ and for the love of God to atone for sins of drunkenness. That is why it does not settle the matter against taking the pledge when one can say he does not need it. Our Lord had no need to suffer thirst. He could say, I own all the cool fountains in the world, and all the strengthening wine of the world is mine, and I might drink and never need to thirst for my own sake; but I love the poor drunkard, and for his sake I will die thirsting for a cool drink and tasting only bitter vinegar. And the Catholic total abstainer says: "O Lord! permit me to bear thee company in thy bitter thirst." ------------------- Sermon XV. The Feast Of The Holy Innocents. _And Herod sending killed all the men-children that were in Bethlehem and in all the confines thereof from two years old and younger._ --Matthew ii. 16 Who is not shocked by the recital of Herod's cruelty? Carried away by pride and ambition, and the fear of losing what he had usurped, this tyrant tried to put to death the King of Kings by the murder of the holy innocents. Who in our day are like Herod? Those who murder innocent children. {56} Fiendish mothers, desiring, perhaps, to cover their shame or to escape the labor of bearing and bringing up children, take the lives of their unborn infants. Those, too, who knowingly sell or give or advise the use of drugs calculated to destroy the life of the unborn--all such commit Herod's crime. Yet how often this crime is nowadays committed! Woe to these wretches! Woe to the Herod-like physicians who, for any reason whatsoever, directly prescribe or use means to prevent child-birth! Herod met his punishment in a bad death, and his soul went into a hell of eternal torments. What must the murderers of little children expect? But I have another cruelty to cry out against. It is that of those who destroy the "little ones of Christ" by neglecting to instruct their little children in the way of salvation. The law of God requires that children as soon as they have the use of reason, which is about the age of seven years, should know the elements of the Christian doctrine, should know the necessity of avoiding sin, and should be taught the practice of virtue; also, that children, as soon as they are able to sufficiently profit by receiving Holy Communion, should do so. No child should ever be allowed to go beyond the age of twelve years without having made First Communion. Many can receive First Communion at nine or ten years of age, and perhaps younger. Confirmation should be received as soon as First Communion. Parents are guilty before God if they do not require their children to keep the commandments of God and his church from their earliest years until they leave the parents charge. How many parents do their little ones a deadly injury by not sending them regularly to Sunday-school! {57} What is it to bring up children to burn in the flames of hell for ever, as some Christian parents do? It is simply soul-murder. It deserves no better name. Have you been guilty of soul-murder? If so, hasten to repair the evil as much as you can. You can never do it wholly, but you must do what you can. There is yet another cruelty towards "the little ones" of Christ. It is to scandalize them by your bad example. Instead of learning by your example to adore our Blessed Lord, to love and reverence his Blessed Mother and the saints, they, perhaps, learn to take God's holy name in vain. Your falsehoods teach them to lie; your dishonesty teaches them to steal. Your anger and quarrelling teach them to be stubborn and disobedient. Ah! Christian parents, be careful how you hang this millstone of scandalizing the little ones of Christ about your necks. Finally, you destroy your children by not correcting their faults. You wink at the evil which they do. You fail to punish them, regardless of God's honor and their good. If you do punish them, it is not "correction in the Lord," but you do it to gratify your satanic rage. Some fathers and mothers are not worthy of the name. The dignity and responsibility of fathers and mothers are very great. See that you are faithful to the obligations which belong to your high and holy state. ------------------- {58} _The Epiphany._ Epistle. _Isaias lx._ 1-6. Arise, be enlightened, O Jerusalem: for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. For behold darkness shall cover the earth, and a mist the people: but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall walk in thy light, and kings in the brightness of thy rising. Lift up thy eyes round about, and see: all these are gathered together, they are come to thee: thy sons shall come from afar, and thy daughters shall rise up at thy side. Then shalt thou see and abound, and thy heart shall wonder and be enlarged; when the multitude of the sea shall be converted to thee, the strength of the Gentiles shall come to thee. The multitude of camels shall cover thee, the dromedaries of Madian and Epha: all they from Saba shall come, bringing gold and frankincense: and showing forth praise to the Lord. Gospel. _St. Matthew. ii._ 1-12. When Jesus, therefore, was born in Bethlehem of Juda, in the days of King Herod, behold, there came wise men from the East to Jerusalem, saying: Where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the East, and we are come to adore him. And Herod the King hearing this was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him: and assembling together all the chief priests and Scribes of the people, he inquired of them where Christ should be born. But they said to him, In Bethlehem of Juda; for so it is written by the prophet: "And thou Bethlehem, the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda: for out of thee shall come forth the ruler who shall rule my people Israel." {59} Then Herod, privately calling the wise men, inquired diligently of them the time of the star's appearing to them; and sending them into Bethlehem, said: Go and search diligently after the child, and when you have found him, bring me word again, that I also may come and adore him. And when they had heard the king, they went their way; and behold, the star which they had seen in the East went before them, until it came and stood over where the child was. And seeing the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And going into the house, they found the child with Mary his mother, and falling down, they adored him; and opening their treasures, they offered him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having received an answer in sleep that they should not return to Herod, they went back another way into their own country. ------------------- Sermon XVI. The Testimony Of The Spirit. _For whosoever are led by the Spirit of God they are the Sons of God._ --Romans viii. 14. The end of our pilgrimage, like that of the three wise men, my brethren, is union with our Lord. Of course union with God, through his power and his being present everywhere, always exists, whether we are his friends or not. But the state of grace is the union of love. By that union God rules our souls. By that union the Holy Spirit of God, the third person of the most Holy Trinity, really dwells within us. In the state of grace we are brought into loving contact with the divine Spirit. {60} Now the Apostle, in the words of our text, wishes to teach us one effect of that wonderful union. "For the Spirit himself giveth testimony to our spirit that we are the sons of God." That is to say, when the Holy Spirit enters into your heart he announces his coming, he assures you of his friendship, he excites within you a sentiment of filial affection for your Heavenly Father. How could it be otherwise? Could God be long in our hearts and we be altogether ignorant of it? Of course he does not take away the natural fickleness of our minds; the star sometimes shines faintly, or even for a while disappears from view. God does not reveal himself as he is; he does not interfere at all with his external work in the holy church; he does not substitute his interior action on the soul for that exterior action of visible authority and sacramental symbols. It is, indeed, by means of this external order that the Holy Spirit enters into our hearts; it is, besides, only by means of the church's divine marks, her divine testimony, her divine influence in the sacraments, that we can be quite sure that Almighty God has come down into our souls. Yet the Holy Spirit really has a secret career within us. "Deep calleth unto deep"; that is, the infinite love of God calls into life our little love. He has his inner church in our souls, so to speak; or rather he brings into his spiritual and hidden temple all that is outside, spiritualizes the external order, joins the purely mental with the sacramental, and, having set our faces in the right direction and started our feet moving in the right road, he sets us to thinking right, he stirs up noble aspirations, he purifies our feelings, and finally gives us testimony that it is really himself, the Spirit of God, who has thus been at work making our inner life such as befits the sons of God. {61} Now, my brethren, as I said before, this testimony of God within us is not like the splendors of Paradise bursting upon the soul; nor is it so very plain as to be able to stand alone without the external criterion of his church as a testimony of God's friendship, except now and then in the case of some great saint. Yet there are many things in our inner life that, if we study them over a little, show that God has been acting upon us. What else is that wonder of the world called the faith of Catholics? Who else but the Spirit of God could give such power to believe very mysterious truths, such a stability to wavering minds, such a humility of belief to proud minds? And what except divine love could be as sweet as the taste the soul enjoys in the reception of the sacraments? Call to mind the utter transformation of soul that so often takes place at First Communion; remember the flood of divine influence at your Christian marriage; remember how after that death-bed scene your broken heart was cured of its despair when you turned to God; remember how at missions or during seasons of penance, or at one or other festival, it seemed to you that heaven was beginning before its time. All this is God's work on your life. The tender emotion at hearing the divine promises, the loving regret for sin, the joy of forgiveness, the imagination filled--plainly by no human means--with images of celestial peace, the understanding as clear of doubts as heaven of clouds, the will strong and easily able to keep good resolutions, sometimes the very body sharing the lightness and vigor of the soul--what is all this but the embrace of the Holy Spirit? {62} And if one says _he_ does not feel it, and yet hopes he is in the state of grace, I answer that he will not be long deprived of it. Or it may be he is tepid; his soul is not able to feel any more than a hand benumbed with cold; his ear not hearing because his attention is too much fixed on the voices of the world to hear the voice of the Holy Spirit. His eye is too much dazzled by the false glitter of the world to catch sight of the star that leads to our Lord's feet. ------------------- Sermon XVII. Following God's Guidance. _Be ye, therefore, followers of God, as most dear children._ --Ephesians. v. 1. My dear brethren, these are not words of counsel or good advice; they are words of command, written by St. Paul. This command is to follow God, and to follow him as most dear children, obediently as the Magi did of old. What is it to follow God? It is to do at least as much as we do when we follow any one great man. How do we act then? We seek to be with him a great deal. We listen to his every word. We do as he does. We adopt his views of things. We repeat what he teaches. Neither do we dare to differ from him, for fear that people will say that we have no sense; nor do we venture to act in any manner opposed to his ways of doing. In a few words, a man who is followed is the leader in fashion, in taste, and style. Everybody approves his ways, and imitates them. {63} His friends have also the friendship of the world, simply because they are his friends. Any one whom he approves and recommends is listened to and followed because he has recommended him. If we want to follow God, he does not really require, outwardly, any more than men require of us to follow them. But how can we do this? First: Seek to be with God a great deal. Where is he, that we may find him? God is everywhere, and is always found by looking for him and seeking for him diligently in prayer; for prayer keeps us near to God and God near to us. And he is always on the altar: hear Mass not only on Sundays but now and then on week days; visit the Blessed Sacrament. Secondly: Listen to his every word. God speaks to our souls in prayer, not with a voice like the voice of a man, but in his own sweet and quiet way. We must listen attentively to hear the gentle words of God, not with our outward ears of the body, but with the ability to hear that is within our souls; the ability of the soul to hear the voice of a spirit speaking to our spirit. God also speaks to us through his Holy Word in the Sacred Scriptures, in the Epistle and Gospel set apart for each Sunday of the year, in the writings of holy men and women, in the teachings of Christian parents and friends. But the most important way in which God has taught, and continues to teach us all, is by means of his church. When we listen to her words, in sermons and other instructions, we hear the Word of God. {64} Thirdly: Do as God does. Try to be like him, and him alone. Take care to do always the thing that is right. Try hard to be loving, merciful, forgiving, and gentle to all, even your enemies. When we have anything to do, we must say, Would God do this way or that way? When we meet with cruel treatment from others, with ingratitude and base injustice from those we love, we must say at once, How does God treat those who do these things? How does he treat me, notwithstanding my many, many sins? I shall go and do to these bad people as he has done to me. I shall even bless them, as he has blessed me. Lastly: If we want to follow God, at least as well as we follow a great man whom we have made a leader among us, we are sure to honor his friends, and obey those he sends to us in his name. Who are these? Not only all good people, but especially our pastors and spiritual directors. The pastor or parish priest is a man sent by God to make sure of the success of God's work in his parish. Any one who follows God in that parish unites heart and soul with his priest to help him carry out his plans. If any one wants to get the greatest amount of merit for his good deeds, he is sure to get it by following first these plans. For the priest stands as a father among his children. He knows the good and the bad, the rich and the poor. He knows what is best for each. He is the best adviser as to what ought to be done, and as to the way it is to be done. In charities he is certainly the best leader. Private works and charities are good, it is true; but the first duty, after one's own necessities are cared for, is to follow the order of God, in aiding the parish work through the parish priest and his assistants. We may safely say that one act done for God, in union with those put over us by him, is worth in heaven, and here also, many good works done simply because we like to do them our own way. {65} To follow God, then, is to follow as dear children. We must consent to be led by God in all things connected with duty, just as little children are led by their fathers and mothers. We must take care, at least, that we follow his lead, and not show more honor to others than we do to him. ------------------- {66} _First Sunday after Epiphany._ Epistle. _Romans xii._ 1-5. Brethren: I beseech you, by the mercy of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing to God, your reasonable service. And be not conformed to this world: but be reformed in the newness of your mind, that you may prove what is the good and the acceptable, and the perfect will of God. For I say, through the grace that is given me, to all that are among you, not to be more wise than it behooveth to be wise, but to be wise unto sobriety, and according as God hath divided to every one the measure of faith. For as in one body we have many members, but all the members have not the same office: so we being many are one body in Christ, and each one members one of another in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. Luke ii._ 42-52. When Jesus was twelve years old, they went up to Jerusalem according to the custom of the feast, and after they had fulfilled the days, when they returned, the child Jesus remained in Jerusalem; and his parents knew it not. And thinking that he was in the company, they came a day's journey, and sought him among their kinsfolks and acquaintance. And not finding him, they returned into Jerusalem, seeking him. And it came to pass, that after three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the doctors, hearing them and asking them questions. And all that heard him were astonished at his wisdom and his answers. And seeing him, they wondered. {67} And his mother said to him: Son, why hast thou done so to us? behold thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing. And he said to them: How is it that you sought me? did you not know that I must be about the things that are my Father's? And they understood not the word that he spoke unto them. And he went down with them, and came to Nazareth: and was subject to them. And his mother kept all these words in her heart. And Jesus increased in wisdom and age, and grace with God and men. ------------------- Sermon XVIII. The Christian Home. _He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was subject to them. ... And Jesus advanced in wisdom and age, and grace with God and men._ --Gospel of the Day. In these few words, my brethren, the sacred writer raises the veil that conceals the mysteries of our Lord's hidden life, and gives us an insight into the domestic concerns of the Holy Family at Nazareth. Jesus lived with Mary and Joseph. He was obedient and subject to them, and so he advanced in age and wisdom and grace with God and men. The door of the holy house is opened to us, but only for a moment, so that we might get a glimpse of the domestic life of a model family. Joseph, the father, day by day works at his trade to support the family. He rises in the morning; gives his soul to God in prayer. He toils through the day. He comes home at night to enjoy his rest in the company of Jesus and Mary. He meets with trials, but he is patient; he is tempted, but he sins not; he leads a busy life, but he still finds time to pray. {68} Mary, the mother, tends the household duties, with care and precision, and by her sweet, kind ways diffuses an air of peace and contentment throughout the home. Jesus, the child, is affectionate and submissive to his parents in everything. Here is the model of a true Christian home. Its ground work is the love of God; it is surrounded by an atmosphere of virtue, and to its members it is the holiest and dearest spot on earth. Such should our homes be. The true Christian home is to society what the sanctuary is to the church of God. The parents are the priests in this sanctuary. It was God who ordained them priests when they stood before the altar with clasped hands and promised that they would be faithful to each other while life lasts. The Blessed Sacrament of this sanctuary is the Sacrament of Matrimony. It is the great treasure-house of supernatural strength to the married couple. The perpetual presence of our Lord in this sanctuary is by his grace, which is never wanting. The altar in this sanctuary is the hearthstone around which the family gathers. The communion-rail in this sanctuary is the family table, from which are dispensed the necessities of life. There is about the sanctuary in the church of God an atmosphere of piety and reverence. It has a sanctity that no stranger dare violate; it has a privacy which no one but he who has a right dare invade. Such an atmosphere should be about the sanctuary of home. A priest would never allow a heretic or an infidel to sit in the sanctuary of God. He would never allow a corrupt man to stand on the altar of God. Take care, then, Christian parents, how you violate the sanctity of your homes. {69} Take care what heretical or infidel books you allow to pass the gate of that sanctuary. Take care what bad newspapers you allow within its sacred precincts. Take care of the persons whom you allow to stand around your family altar. It is one thing, you know, to be obliged to meet a man in every-day life; it is a far different thing to invite him to your home, and permit him to violate its sanctity. It is the duty of a priest on the altar of God, by his good example, to edify his flock; to stand at all times before his people a bright, shining light of Christian virtues. So, too, it is your duty, priests at the family altar, to be a model of all virtues to your children, so that they might learn from you what it is to be a Christian. Would it not be horrible for a man to come in on the altar and utter repeated curses? Would it not be fearful to see him stagger up to the altar of God in the state of intoxication? It happened once while Mass was going on, during the Elevation, while all heads were bowed in humble adoration, a drunken man rushed into the church, and in a loud voice uttered a horrible oath. It made the hearts of the good Catholic people stand still, and their blood ran cold in their veins. Is it any the less horrible for a father to come home intoxicated to the household sanctuary, or a mother, when anything goes wrong in the house, to give vent to her wrath in harsh language and sometimes even cursing? See to it, then, dear parents; make your homes holy places--real sanctuaries, where you can do your duty as priests of our All-Holy God. Keep from them all evil influences, so that they might be places where even the Child Jesus would not be ashamed to dwell. ------------------- {70} Sermon XIX. Jesus Teaching In The Temple. _And not finding him, they returned into Jerusalem, seeking him._ --Luke ii. 45 The Gospel of to-day tells us, my brethren, how our Blessed Lady and St. Joseph lost Jesus on their way home from Jerusalem, where they had gone with him to keep the feast of the pasch, and how in great distress they returned to the city in search of him. What fears and anxieties must have filled their minds as they thought of the many enemies which he had among the rulers of the people, jealous of his promised kingdom, and of the harm which they would try to do him if they recognized him for the child whom Herod had sought to destroy! And how perplexed Mary and Joseph must have been that he who had hitherto saved himself by their protection should at this tender age abandon them and remove himself from their care! Had they not shown enough love and care for him? Had they proved themselves unworthy of him? Surely it could not be his purpose when so young to begin his great work. Would he not at least have told them if such had been his plan? No, our Lord did not propose to begin his mission then; for, though he was indeed God, he was also then a child, and that mission was not a child's work. But he did wish to show them that his great work even then filled his heart and soul; that the fire of love for us, which brought him to the cross, was consuming him even in childhood. "Did you not know," he said to them when they found him, "that I must be about my Father's business?" "How is it that you sought me?" "You might have known," he seems to say, "that, if I were not with you, I must be in the temple speaking to my people of their God." {71} He also wished to give them an opportunity of merit by showing the love of God which filled their souls, too. For their grief was not the common grief of parents who have lost a child, great as that trouble is. It was the loss of the Divine Presence which affected them beyond measure. God had been with them for all those years as never with any one else, and now he had left them, they could not tell why or for how long. They would not have spared him for an hour, even to their kinsfolk and friends, with whom they thought he was, except for charity; and now he had left them, perhaps for the rest of their lives, which were worth nothing without him. Would that we loved God, my brethren, as they loved him; that he were the light and consolation of our lives, as he was of theirs! Let us think of this as we reflect on their pain and anguish in that weary search for the visible presence of him whose grace was, after all, always in their souls. How is it with us? Would we care for this presence which they so bitterly missed? Would it not, perhaps, even be a painful restraint? Do we care, as it is, to be near Jesus? Is his presence in the Blessed Sacrament of the altar a consolation to us? We revere that real Presence of our Lord, but do we love it? If so, why do we not seek it more? Do we even care for his presence by grace in our souls, which they always had in its fulness, and never dimmed by the shadow of sin? To lose that, had it been possible, would have been a thousand deaths to them; what is it to us? How easily do we lose that grace; how little do we care to regain it! {72} Oh! let us at least imitate our Blessed Mother and her Holy Spouse as far as this. If we do not love to be with Jesus as they did, let us at least seek to have him with us by his grace. If we have lost him, let us seek him, and not be weary till we find him; let us not rest till he comes again to our souls, never to leave them again. ------------------- Sermon XX. How Our Saviour Takes Away Sin. _Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who taketh away the sins of the world._ --St. John i. 29. After our Blessed Lord was baptized by St. John the Baptist, beloved brethren, he retired into the desert, where he remained forty days in prayer and fasting. At the end of this time he directed his steps towards the river Jordan, where John was baptizing. Here a large concourse of the Jewish people had assembled to listen to the preaching of the forerunner of Christ. In the midst of these St. John, inspired by the spirit of God, and professing his deep and ardent faith, testified of our Lord that he is the Lamb of God, and that it is he who taketh away the sins of the world. {73} What a glorious testimony this, and how cheerfully received by the fervent Christian! Have you ever pondered over these beautiful words, and made them the subject of your meditation? Have you ever tried to find out their true meaning, and thus make them profitable to your souls? Yes, truly, Jesus Christ is the Lamb of God. He is the Lamb slain from the beginning of the world. For you and for me he voluntarily left the bosom of his Father, and lowered and even debased himself by assuming a nature like our own. For us he endured the sufferings and privations of his childhood; for us he sent up many heartfelt prayers to God the Father before the beginning of his public life; for us he labored and preached; for us he suffered the ingratitude of his disciples, the ignominies of the Jews, the insults of the soldiers, the hardships of the journey to Calvary, and, finally, ended his torments on the cross, with the cry "_Consummatum est_--It is finished." This, and much more, did our Blessed Lord gladly undergo for us all. And how have you, dear brethren, requited such infinite love? Fathers, are you solicitous for the little household which Almighty God himself has so fondly entrusted to your care? Then are you imitators of the patience and endurance of your Saviour during his bitter passion. Mothers, do you strive to make yourselves patterns of the Christian virtues of gentleness and forbearance? Then do you imitate the example of your Lord in bearing the defects of others and treating them with kindness and compassion. Oh! how watchful would we not be, dear brethren, could we but understand the infinite love our Lord Jesus Christ manifested for us during his life on earth! But St. John not only gave testimony to our Lord being the Lamb of God, but he further testified that it is he who takes away the sins of the world. {74} He did not come simply to announce to the world the divine mission which he received from the Father; he also came to heal the infirmities of our souls by imparting to them the abundance of his grace. This office he performed himself during his mortal life on earth. He it was that purified the soul of Mary Magdalene and enriched it with sanctifying grace. It was he who gave the living water of eternal life to the sinful Samaritan woman. And what our Lord did for these and many others, beloved brethren, he is now effecting in the midst of us. It is not necessary to remind you of how our Lord chose a small band of apostles, and made them the beginning of his church; how he bestowed upon them and their successors the unheard-of and marvellous power of forgiving sins. Yes, brethren, the bishops and priests of the Catholic Church are the visible representatives of Jesus Christ; they are the comfort of the afflicted, the strength of the weak; they have an efficacious remedy for those who are living in the state of mortal sin; by pronouncing the words of absolution they restore to the penitent and contrite sinner his lost inheritance of sonship, and make him an heir of the kingdom of heaven. Oh! how thankful we should be for the mercy and goodness of our God! What a tender love we ought to cherish for the Church, the Bride without spot! What respect is not due to those who hold the place of Christ in our behalf! How sufficiently prize the inestimable blessing of the tribunal of penance! Let us remember and meditate upon those three precious graces, beloved brethren, that they may be the source of sweet joy to us now, and the earnest of a happy eternity hereafter. ------------------- {75} _Second Sunday after Epiphany._ Feast Of The Holy Name Of Jesus. Epistle. _Romans xii._ 6-16. Having gifts different, according to the grace that is given us, whether prophecy, according to the proportion of faith, or ministry in ministering; or he that teacheth, in teaching; he that exhorteth, in exhorting; he that giveth with simplicity; he that ruleth with solicitude; he that showeth mercy with cheerfulness. Love without dissimulation. Hating that which is evil, adhering to that which is good; loving one another with brotherly love; in honor preventing one another; in solicitude not slothful; in spirit fervent; serving the Lord; rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; instant in prayer; communicating to the necessities of the saints; pursuing hospitality. Bless them that persecute you; bless, and curse not. Rejoice with them that rejoice; weep with them that weep; being of one mind one to another; not high-minded, but condescending to the humble. Epistle of the Feast. _Acts iv._ 8-12. Then Peter, filled with the Holy Ghost, said to them: Ye rulers of the people and ancients, hear: If we this day are examined concerning the good deed done to the infirm man, by what means he hath been made whole; be it known to you all, and to all the people of Israel, that in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God hath raised from the dead, even by him doth this man stand here before you whole. This is the stone which was rejected by you, builders; which is become the head of the corner; nor is there salvation in any other. For there is no other name under heaven given to men, whereby we must be saved. {76} Gospel. _St. John ii._ 1-11. At that time: There was a marriage in Cana of Galilee: and the mother of Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited, and his disciples, to the marriage. And the wine failing, the mother of Jesus saith to him: They have no wine. And Jesus saith to her: Woman, what is that to me and to thee? my hour is not yet come. His mother said to the waiters: Whatsoever he shall say to you, do ye. Now, there were set there six water-pots of stone, according to the manner of the purifying of the Jews, containing two or three measures apiece. Jesus saith to them: Fill the water-pots with water. And they filled them up to the brim. And Jesus saith to them: Draw out now and carry to the chief steward of the feast. And they carried it. And when the chief steward had tasted the water made wine, and knew not whence it was, but the waiters knew who had drawn the water, the chief steward calleth the bridegroom, and saith to him: Every man at first setteth forth good wine, and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine until now. This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and he manifested his glory, and his disciples believed in him. Gospel Of The Feast. _St. Luke ii._ 21. At that time: After eight days were accomplished that the child should be circumcised, his name was called Jesus, which was called by the Angel, before he was conceived in the womb. ------------------- Sermon XXI. Profanity. To-day, my dear brethren, as you know, the church celebrates the festival of the Holy Name of Jesus; of that name which is above all other names, at which every knee shall bow, and every tongue shall confess the glory of him to whom this great name belongs. {77} Yes, the holy church does indeed reverence this holy name, and we, her children, do not fail to honor it. Following a pious custom, we bow the head when it is mentioned, and it is to be hoped that we also make at the same time with our hearts an act of homage to him who bears it, and thank him for all that he has done for us. And yet, strange to say, some of these very Christians who pay to the name of their God and Saviour, at least outwardly, this tribute of honor on certain accustomed occasions seem to take at other times a pleasure in trampling it, if I may so speak, in the very dirt under their feet. To see them in church, you would think that they would hardly dare even to take at all upon their own lips this holy name which they hear from those of the priest; but outside, on the street, and even, it may be, in their own homes, they show a horrible familiarity with it. This name above all names is coupled with every foolish, passionate, and even filthy word which the devil can put into their hearts and on their tongues. {78} Do I say this is strange? Ah! that is far too weak a word. To one who will stop and consider, even for a moment, it seems incredible, impossible that a Christian, one who believes himself to have been created by the great God whose name he bears, and to have been redeemed by him from the power of the devil, at the cost of his own Precious Blood; who has knelt in prayer before him; who has received from him the pardon of his sins; who has received him in his real and true Presence on his tongue in the sacrament which he has instituted with such infinite condescension and love--I say it seems impossible, intolerable, inconceivable, that this wretched worm of the earth, on whom so many and such surpassing favors have been showered by the Divine Goodness, should, with this very tongue on which his God has rested, outrage and insult the name of this God, and that the name which above all others tells how good and merciful he has been. It seems as if even the infinite patience and love which our Lord has for us could not brook this indignity, this spittle cast in his face, not as at the time of his Passion, by one who did not know who he was, but by those who from childhood have known full well all the truths of their holy faith, and who well understand that it is the Divine Majesty which they despise. Indeed, my brethren, believe me, even the infidel shudders when he hears in passing along the street the holy name of our Lord God and Saviour Jesus Christ, of him whom even he respects above all other men that have ever lived on earth, thus outraged, profaned, and defiled by those who profess to believe him to be far more than the best and greatest of men; who invoke him as the One who sitteth on the Eternal Throne, before whom the angels veil their faces, to whom is due benediction and honor and glory and power for ever and ever. Even the infidel, I say, shudders; and he wonders how it can be, if what Christians believe is true, that the God whom they thus insult suffers them to live. {79} But you may say it is a habit you have got; that is the excuse which seems good to you, and which you seem to think that God ought to accept. Sup-pose you had a habit of spitting on your neighbor's face or clothes by preference to any other place, how long would he endure it? It is a habit, yes; but it is one which you can amend and get rid of altogether, and which you are most urgently and seriously bound to get rid of, if you would not have to answer for it at the bar of him whom this insufferable habit outrages and defies. Take care, take care, take care, I warn and beseech you, for God's sake, for the sake of those who hear you, and for your own sake, that this habit come to an end. Watch, keep guard against it; punish yourself should you even inadvertently fall into it, that your offended God may not have to take the punishment into his own hands. ------------------- Sermon XXII. The Sin Of Cursing. _Bless them that persecute you; bless, and curse not._ --Romans. xii. 14. These words are found in the epistle appointed for the second Sunday after Epiphany, and were read by the church long before the institution of the Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus, which is now always celebrated on this day, yet they contain a lesson most appropriate to this feast. For there is no way in which God's most holy name, which to-day is especially set before us for our veneration, is more frequently or more grossly dishonored than by cursing. To curse is to call down God's judgment or vengeance upon our fellow-men, and its worst form is when the holy and awful name of God or our Lord is made use of. {80} Unhappily the fault has become so common, even among those who think themselves good Catholics, that its grievous nature is seldom realized or, perhaps, even thought of. The habit is often acquired in childhood, frequently from the example of parents, themselves given to cursing. Like all early-acquired habits, it grows stronger and more deeply-rooted with advancing years, until at last the habit is made the excuse for the sin. It is a vain excuse. You are guilty before God of mortal sin if you have formed this habit, and you are guilty of remaining in the state of mortal sin if you make no effort to break yourself of it. It will do you no good to go to confession and accuse yourself of cursing, unless you are contrite and follow the advice which your confessor gives you, and really make an earnest resolution and a serious effort to overcome this scandalous habit. You should begin by making each morning a resolution to avoid cursing throughout the day, begging God's assistance for your efforts. If, during the day, you fall inadvertently into the old fault, you should impose some little penance upon yourself, such as the recitation of the "Hail Mary," or the pious ejaculation of the holy name of Jesus, with a prayer for God's forgiveness. And then at night you should examine your conscience as to how often you may have fallen into the habit during the day, and resolve to make the next day a better one in this respect. If you faithfully persevere in this practice you will soon be the master of your tongue, and able to restrain it from cursing by a little watchfulness; but if you do not adopt some such practice as this, and really set to work in earnest to overcome this habit, you are guilty before God of mortal sin, and your contrition at your confessions is not good for much. {81} I have spoken of this habit as scandalous, as this is one of its worst features. Besides the insult that is offered to God and his holy name, an incalculable amount of harm is done to our neighbor. Children, especially, learn to curse from their elders, and the extent of this fault among young children is frightful to contemplate. Those, too, who are not of our faith, when they hear Catholics cursing and swearing, are apt to set it down to some defect in our religion, and thus the true faith is brought into contempt. But the habitual curser seldom thinks of these consequences of his sin. He rarely even attends to the meaning of the words he uses. If he could only be brought to stop and think of all that is implied in the expressions we so often hear upon our streets, he would shudder at the thought of using them. To ask Almighty God to send a soul to hell for all eternity, to utter that holy name whereby we are saved in a prayer for the eternal damnation of a soul redeemed by the Precious Blood of Christ, is an impiety so dreadful that we could scarcely believe it possible did not our ears tell us the contrary. Yet there are those who not only say these things, but mean them, at least at the moment when they are uttered. How carefully, then, should we guard ourselves against those outbursts of anger in which we are led to make such a fearful abuse of the gift of speech, the noblest of God's natural gifts to man! {82} Above all, we should try to realize the spirit of the Gospel as expressed in the words of St. Paul, "Bless them that persecute you," remembering that no affront that can be offered to us can even justify the spirit of revenge that is implied in a curse. "Bless," therefore, "and curse not," that so you may yourselves receive the blessing of the Lord. ------------------- Sermon XXIII. Reverence For The Name Of God. The Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus, brethren, affords an opportunity for meditating upon reverence for the honor of God, especially in the person of our Blessed Saviour. Reverence for God is something different from the love of God and the fear of God. Have you not noticed that when a bad boy neither fears his father nor (as far as we can see) loves him, that he yet often keeps up at least a show of respect for him? I don't care much for him, he says, but after all he is my father; I must respect him. So with sinners. Many a sinner will break every commandment of God and the church except one or two, which he fancies he must observe in order to keep up appearances; that is to say, show at least some outward respect. The most atrocious scoundrel will not eat meat on Friday, because that would be a sign of losing all respect for religion. A wretch abandoned to every vice will say a Hail Mary or make the sign of the cross sometimes in order to persuade at least himself that he has not lost all respect for religion. He will not despise the piety of his friends, but rather respect it. Respect for holy things and holy practices is the last remnant of religion in the sinner's soul. {83} Well, brethren, let us ask if Almighty God has not set up any particular sign of reverence that we are to pay him? What is that, among all religious practices, which he would have us do as a token of inner and outer reverence? Of course you know what I mean; you know that it is reverence for his holy name. The name of God, and especially the name of Jesus, are set up as the divine standard before which every man will prove his reverence for God. Cursers and swearers and blasphemers forget this. No sin is so common as profanity in its various forms. Yet it shows a heart not only void of the fear of God, and of the love of God, but also, and worst of all, void of even reverence for God. A man who habitually curses is penetrated with defiance of the Divine Majesty. Holy Scripture says that he has put on cursing like a garment; that it has entered in unto his bones. In the old law a blasphemer was stoned to death. And in our own times God often anticipates the wrath to come by sending sudden death upon profane men. I lately read in the papers that a man, standing at a saloon-counter, cursed his own soul, and instantly sank down upon the floor stone dead. Many of you have doubtless heard or even seen such visitations of divine justice. And it is in view of the sacred obligation of reverence to God in his chosen symbol--which is his name and his Son's name--that, although he had but ten commandments to give us, one of them was set apart to secure respectful speech when dealing with God: Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain. {84} Brethren, you and I in [the] future will be particularly careful to honor the sacred name of Jesus. Are you tempted? That name is a resistless charm against assaults of flesh, world, or devil. Are you tired out? The name of Jesus is a restful and soothing influence. Are you sick? That holy name will strengthen you with supernatural vigor. I hope that when you come to die your last breath may utter that name of Jesus with deep confidence, and that our Lord will answer your dying sigh with an affectionate welcome into his heavenly court. ------------------- {85} _Third Sunday after Epiphany._ Epistle. _Romans xii._ 16-21. Brethren: Be not wise in your own conceits. Render to no man evil for evil. Provide things good not only in the sight of God, but also in the sight of all men. If it be possible, as much as is in you, have peace with all men. Revenge not yourselves, my dearly beloved; but give place to wrath, for it is written: "Revenge is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." But if thy enemy be hungry, give him to eat; if he thirst, give him drink; for doing this thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head. Be not overcome by evil, but overcome evil by good. Gospel. _St. Matthew viii_. 1-13. At that time: When Jesus was come down from the mountain, great multitudes followed him; and behold a leper coming, adored him, saying: Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. And Jesus, stretching forth his hand, touched him, saying: I will; be thou made clean. And immediately his leprosy was cleansed. And Jesus said to him: See thou tell no man; but go show thyself to the priest, and offer the gift which Moses commanded for a testimony to them. And when he had entered into Capharnaum, there came to him a centurion, beseeching him and saying: Lord, my servant lieth at home sick of the palsy, and is grievously tormented. And Jesus said to him: I will come and heal him. And the centurion, making answer, said: Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldst enter under my roof; but only say the word, and my servant shall be healed. {86} For I also am a man under authority, having soldiers under me; and I say to this man, Go, and he goeth, and to another, Come, and he cometh, and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it. And Jesus, hearing this, wondered, and said to those that followed him: Amen I say to you, I have not found so great faith in Israel. And I say unto you that many shall come from the east and the west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven; but the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into exterior darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. And Jesus said to the centurion: Go, and as thou hast believed, so be it done to thee. And the servant was healed at the same hour. ------------------- Sermon XXIV. Practical Faith. _Many shall come from the east and the west, and shall sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven; but the children of the kingdom shall be cast into the exterior darkness._ --Gospel of the Day. These words, my dear brethren, were spoken by our Blessed Lord to the Jews on the occasion of the cure of the servant of the centurion. This centurion was an officer, like what we would call a captain, in the Roman army; he was not a Jew, so he did not belong to God's chosen people, his church of the old law. No, he was a heathen by birth; he had been brought up in error, in ignorance of the true religion; he had not the prophecies which the Jews had to tell him clearly that a Saviour was to come into the world. {87} He was indeed in darkness compared with this favored Hebrew people among whom his lot was cast; but he saw our Lord, and that was enough for him. He saw the power of God, and he believed. He knew that this Messias, whom the Pharisees were rejecting, was the Master of life and death. "Lord," said he, "I am not worthy that thou shouldst come under my roof; but only say the word, and my servant shall be healed." Immortal words these, which the Catholic Church has treasured up, and puts on thousands of lips every day, and which were rewarded by the divine acknowledgment, "Amen I say to you, I have not found so great faith in Israel. And I say to you that many shall come from the east and the west, and shall sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven; but the children of the kingdom shall be cast into the exterior darkness." Now, my brethren, what lesson have we to learn from this praise of the heathen centurion, and this warning to God's own people, coming to us from the mouth of God himself? Simply this: that our salvation depends on the use which we make of the graces which he gives us; that the least will suffice, if we will but avail ourselves of them; but that the greatest will only serve for our eternal condemnation and ruin if we slight them and pass them by. A simple and evident truth this surely, and yet how apt we are to forget and neglect it! We are Catholics from our infancy, we say; we belong to families which have always kept the faith. We are indeed the faithful, to whom the kingdom of heaven is promised. And if we have not been always so, but have been brought from darkness into light, then still more is the divine favor to us manifest. {88} Will He, then, who has done so much for us, not complete his work? We believe his word, we are in his true church, we receive his saving and life-giving sacraments; how, then, shall we not be saved? Are we not indeed those of whom he said, "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me; and I give them life everlasting, and they shall not perish for ever, and no man shall pluck them out of my hand"? Yes, my dear brethren, we think that we shall be saved because we are Catholics. But the truth is, that our being Catholics only gives us greater means of salvation; it is far from making our salvation sure. We have greater means and helps to save our souls; but woe be to us if we abuse them! And when we look around, and see many good and earnest souls, similar, as far as we can see, to that of the Roman centurion, deprived of the light that we have, not by their own fault, but by that of their fathers; when we see them trying to do their best with the little knowledge and the few helps that they have, must we not fear that God will take away from us the graces that we despise; that we, the children of the kingdom, will be cast into the exterior darkness, while others shall come from the east and the west and take the place which we have but do not deserve? Let us, then, each and every one, if we have been unfaithful to the great graces which we have as Catholics--and which of us has not been so?--rouse ourselves to our danger. Yes, having the faith and the sacraments is a great privilege, but is one for which we must give a most strict account when we stand before the throne of God. ------------------- {89} Sermon XXV. Living Up To Our Faith. _Jesus, hearing this, marvelled; and said to them that followed him: Amen I say to you, I have not found so great faith in Israel_. --Gospel of the Day. The love and care of the heathen centurion for his servant should certainly put to shame many Christian masters and mistresses of to-day, who not only do not encourage their servants to approach our Lord at Holy Mass and in the sacraments, but even put obstacles in their way. However, the lesson to which I wish to direct your thoughts this morning, and which it is the primary object of the Gospel narrative to teach, is the immense importance of living up to the grace and light which God has so bountifully given us. A few weeks ago we kept the Feast of the Epiphany, the manifestation, that is, of our Lord to the Gentiles, to those who had not till then formed part of the church of God. The Jews alone, as you are aware, were God's chosen people. To them had been given the law and the prophets, the temple and the sacrifices, and--that to which everything else led up--the promise of the Messias. And all these privileges led them to think that they were individually very excellent people, and to look down with contempt upon the rest of the world and everybody in it. Now, here was a Roman, born and brought up in heathenism, taught, doubtless, to say his prayers to Jupiter and Venus and other vile creatures like them, a man holding, too, high office, commanding a garrison of soldiers, whose duty it was to keep down a conquered race. {90} Well, this man, notwithstanding his bad education, notwithstanding the pride which, on account of his position, must naturally have been his, had made greater progress than the self-conceited Pharisees, with all their advantages, had ever made or were ever to make. While they lived and died in unbelief, he had already recognized in Jesus Christ the power of God; and, laying aside prejudice and pride of place and birth, he sends humbly to our Lord to ask him to heal his servant. So clearly did he recognize our Lord's divine power that he did not think it necessary for him to come to his house. Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue, as you will remember, would not be satisfied unless our Lord came down to his house; the centurion, on the contrary, stopped our Lord while he was on the way, saying: "Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldst enter under my roof; but only say the word and my servant will be healed." So that our Lord, on hearing it, marvelled, and said: "Amen I say unto you, I have not found so great faith in Israel." Now, how does all this apply to us? What lesson can _we_ learn from these events? The answer to this question is easy and obvious. We are by God's grace the members of the church of God, and, as such, we are in possession of the means of grace--the sacraments, the word of God, the intercession and prayers of the saints, and of innumerable privileges and spiritual treasures. Above all, and as the source and spring of all spiritual life, without which everything is valueless and worthless, we have the gift of faith. Now, faith is necessary; but faith is not sufficient. Without faith no one can be saved. But we must have something more than faith. {91} The shipwrecked man clings for his life to anything within his reach; but unless the plank, or whatever else he has got hold of, is washed ashore, or a boat or some other means of help arrives, his plank only prolongs his agony. So is it with us. Faith is our plank; but unless this faith works by charity it will only add to our condemnation. More than this, it will, if not acted upon, get weaker and weaker, and be scarcely strong enough to move us to action. What, then, must we do? Why, we must live as our faith teaches us. First, we must learn our faith: learn the truths of our religion; next, we must practise them. If we do not do so we shall, perhaps, see what those Jews of old saw: the heathen and those who were outside of the church entering and taking their places. What our Lord said of them may, perhaps, be said of us: "I say unto you that many shall come from the east and from the west, and shall sit down with Abraham and Isaac in the kingdom of heaven; but the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into the exterior darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." ------------------- Sermon XXVI. The Sacrament Of Matrimony. I think you are all persuaded, my brethren, of the wrong and the danger of Catholics going to a Protestant minister for marriage; and similar ones can be given why we should not go before a magistrate for that purpose. It is plain that the authorities of the State are not the right persons to assist officially at the sacraments of the church. {92} It would be just as proper to ask the mayor to baptize your children as to go to him for marriage. To refer the matter of your marriage to him, however fine a man he may be personally, would be to acknowledge the right of the civil authority to take charge of religious affairs; and such a right Catholics cannot admit. Besides, the magistrate labors under the same difficulty as a Protestant minister in conducting a Catholic marriage, of not knowing the laws of the church on the subject, and the impediments which may make the marriage invalid; that is, which may make it, though seemingly good, in reality no marriage at all. You know, for instance--to speak of this a little more fully--that the Catechism says that you should not marry within certain degrees of kindred; very well, it is not only forbidden to marry within these degrees, but a marriage within these degrees is not recognized by the laws of the church as a real and true marriage, and the parties have to be married over again, at least privately, if it is ever found out. And there are some other impediments which have the same effect. It is of no use to publish all these and try to explain them; many mistakes would be made, and matters would only be come worse. No, to be safe in all affairs of this kind you must go to those who have made a special study of it; just as you find out the law of the State from your lawyer, and not from a book. Go, then, to the priest; he is the one who has made a special study of the law of the church, and the only one. {93} In order to make sure that Catholic marriage shall be contracted before the priest, a law has been made, and binds in some countries, and in some parts even of this country, making it invalid, or null and void, if contracted without the presence of the parish priest of at least one of the parties. This does not, however, hold just here. But there is a very special and urgent law in this diocese, and in many others, forbidding the going to a Protestant minister for marriage, and reserving the absolution for this to the bishop, or some one authorized by him. Catholics, therefore, who are guilty of such a rash act get themselves into a very unpleasant position; still, they must, of course, try to get out of it sooner or later, and if any one finds himself in this predicament the only sensible thing to do is to come at once to the priest, who will help him as far as possible. All sins can be forgiven, and all mistakes rectified, if one has the right dispositions. One word more on this most important subject. Some people seem to imagine that the difficulty which may come, especially in a mixed marriage, of avoiding the Protestant minister, may be got over by going both to him and to the priest, and going through the form of marriage twice. Now, let it be understood that this course cannot be thought of for a moment; for by it not only is the law broken which I have just mentioned, but a profanation of the sacrament also is committed by endeavoring to make the contract to which it is attached twice in the same case. It is as if one tried to be confirmed twice. No, in this matter there can be no compromise; a marriage in which a Catholic is a party must be put in charge of the Catholic clergy, and of no one else, except as far as mere settlements of money and the like are concerned. {94} Go, then, to the priest for marriage; do not think of doing anything else. But do not go to him, as I have said some people do, for the first time just at the moment you want the ceremony performed, and expect him to marry you off-hand; for there are some very important preliminaries to be settled first, and it may take some time to settle them. ------------------- {95} _Fourth Sunday after Epiphany._ Epistle. _Romans xiii._ 8-10. Brethren: Owe no man anything, but that you love one another. For he that loveth his neighbor, hath fulfilled the law. For "Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not bear false witness. Thou shalt not covet." And if there be any other commandment, it is comprised in this word: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." The love of the neighbor worketh no evil. Love, therefore, is the fulfilling of the law. Gospel. _St. Matthew viii._ 23-27. At that time: When Jesus entered into the ship, his disciples followed him; and behold a great tempest arose in the sea, so that the ship was covered with waves, but he was asleep. And his disciples came to him, and waked him, saying: Lord, save us, we perish. And Jesus saith to them: Why are you fearful, O ye of little faith? Then rising up he commanded the winds and the sea, and there came a great calm. But the men wondered, saying: Who is this, for even the winds and the sea obey him? ------------------- Sermon XXVII. The Ingratitude Of Children. _Brethren: owe, no man anything._ --Epistle of the Day. {96} We are all debtors, brethren, for we all have some accounts to settle up. There are debts we shall never be able to redeem, debts that are just, pressing, and lasting as long as we are in this life. Such, for instance, is the debt we owe to God. The fact of his having created us, of having brought us out of nothing, of having given us immortal souls imaged after himself, would alone put us under the gravest obligations to him; but what is that compared to the debt we owe God for having redeemed us at a nameless price, by nothing less than the Precious Blood of his own beloved Son; and, furthermore, what is all this in comparison with the debt we owe God for our sanctification, for the priceless gift of his Holy Spirit dwelling within us, breaking away the mist of error and ignorance that clouds our intellect and hides from our vision the eternal truth; that gift that endows us with strength and fortitude, with the courage that comes from conviction, with the power that makes us triumph over every weakness, every unruly passion, every snare of our enemy the devil, over every thought, word, and action that makes us unworthy of sonship with God, brotherhood with Christ, and the heritage of an eternal crown? This debt, dear brethren, is in general obvious enough; but, while we recognize it, How often do we find in our experience that men neglect, and shamefully neglect, debts that are dependent on and derived from the debt they owe Almighty God; men who neglect debts that are as grave and binding as those which are due to the God from whom they are derived! {97} Now, brethren, if there is any injustice in this world more flagrant than all others, more worthy of condemnation and detestation, more certain of the visitation of God, it is this: the neglect of our duty to our parents. "Owe no man anything." Do we owe _them_ nothing? Do we not owe them much? Is there a time in our lives when that debt is not binding? Ah! dear brethren, and what do we see in the world about us? Ingratitude, the vice of monsters, forgetfulness of ties that are nearest, dearest, and holiest. Young men, growing up into adult age, who, in their vain seeking after pleasures, become so blinded to duty, so debased in their appetites, so completely transformed into the incarnation of selfishness, as not only to disregard the law of God, but the very instincts of nature--sons who would rob and starve their parents to satisfy their mean and low appetites. The ingratitude of children to parents is a crying sin of our times. Let us be alive to it. Let the young men and women of our day remember that they are bound to satisfy these grave and serious obligations; that they are not to heedlessly put themselves into any state that will debar them from redeeming the debts they owe, from recompensing for all the care, toil, and money expended upon them. "Owe no man anything." Take heed of this warning also, all you who contract debts without the slightest hope of paying them; see to it that the clothes you wear, the food you eat, the pleasures you indulge in are paid for; see to it that they are not purchased by the labor and money which belong to others. You who live in fine houses, who keep yourselves in costly array, who deny yourselves no pleasures, however extravagant, take heed! Whose money pays for it? {98} Can you stand up and with a clean heart proclaim that this is honest? As you sit here to-day, do the words of the Apostle offer no rebuke to you, do you not feel their sting? O brethren! let us be sparing in our debts; let us owe no man anything. The man without debts exalts himself in the eyes of his fellow-men and secures for himself a good conscience. ------------------- Sermon XXVIII. Love Of Our Neighbor. _He that loveth his neighbor hath fulfilled the law._ --Epistle of the Day. There can be no doubt, my brethren, that the saving of our souls sometimes seems to be a very troublesome business. There are so many laws and commandments binding on us, so many sins which we are likely to commit; and if we break any of these laws in any grievous way--if we are guilty, that is to say, of mortal sin our--salvation is lost till such time as we repair our fault. Yet it may seem that we are surrounded by so many rocks on our voyage through life that it is almost useless to try to steer clear of them; and, if we may judge by their actions, many Christians actually come to the conclusion that there is no use in trying to keep their ship off these rocks. They make up their minds that spiritual shipwreck is unavoidable, and that the only way to reach the port of heaven is to be towed in on a raft which can be made out of the sacraments at the last moment. {99} But really our salvation is not such a complicated and intricate affair if we would only look at it in the right way. The course which we have to follow is not such a difficult one to bear in mind and to keep. There are many commandments, it is true; but they all have the same spirit, and if we have that spirit they will all come quite easy. What is the spirit? Our Lord has told us. It is the love of God, and of our neighbor for God's sake. The love of God and of our neighbor gives us a short cut to the kingdom of heaven; if we are guided by it, we shall not come near the dangers that seem so many and so threatening. Let us see how this is; how is this love going to work to keep us in the safe and sure track? It is not so hard to see. For what is it to love any one; how do we act towards one whom we really and truly love? Are we always trying to give him no more than we can help, and keep as much as we can for ourselves? Do we try to have our own way as much as possible, and never to step out of it for his sake, unless compelled by force or threats? No, of course not. We keep far away from what will offend him. We always are trying to find out what will please him best. So if he is not unreasonable, and if he knows our desire and intention, the danger of offending him disappears. Well, it is just so in the matter of serving God and keeping his law. The continual mortal sins into which Christians fall, and which it seems so hard to avoid, are due to their trying to run too near the rocks. No wonder they so often get wrecked in these dangerous waters. They are all the time striking on the commandments, and the whole sea seems full of them because they try to sail as near them as they can. If they would only give them a wide berth, and keep out in the deep ocean of the love of God, sin and its forgiveness would not cause so much anxiety and trouble. {100} If we would only ask ourselves what will please God best, and try to give him all that he desires, as we should if we loved him as he deserves to be loved, and as we do with others whom we really do love--if we would do this instead of trying [to see] how far we can have our own way and yet come out right in the end, the whole matter of saving our souls would have a very different aspect. Now, why not try to follow this line? It is no fanciful thing beyond our power. Plenty of Christians have done it before us, and are doing it all the time. But if we do not feel prepared, or are a little afraid to commit ourselves to this course just yet, at least we could endeavor to have some love for our neighbor, and make some sacrifice for him. We have St. Paul's word for it, you see, that even he who loves his neighbor will be sure to fulfil the law. Yes, we may feel quite sure if, by a generous love of our neighbor, we keep far off being wrecked on the last part of the Ten Commandments, that we shall run clear of the first part as well. ------------------- {101} _Fifth Sunday after Epiphany._ Epistle. _Colossians iii._ 12-17. Brethren: Put ye on therefore, as the elect of God, holy, and beloved, the bowels of mercy, benignity, humility, modesty, patience, bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if any have a complaint against another: even as the Lord hath forgiven you, so do you also. But above all these things have charity, which is the bond of perfection: and let the peace of Christ rejoice in your hearts, wherein also you are called in one body; and be ye thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you abundantly, in all wisdom: teaching and admonishing one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual canticles, singing in grace in your hearts to God. All whatsoever you do in word or in work, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, giving thanks to God and the Father by Jesus Christ our Lord. Gospel. _St. Mathew xiii._ 24-30. At that time: Jesus spoke this parable to the multitude, saying: The kingdom of heaven is likened to a man that sowed good seed in his field. But while men were asleep, his enemy came and oversowed cockle among the wheat, and went his way. And when the blade was sprung up, and brought forth fruit, then appeared also the cockle. Then the servants of the master of the house came and said to him: Master, didst thou not sow good seed in thy field? whence then hath it cockle? And he said to them: An enemy hath done this. And the servants said to him: Wilt thou that we go and gather it up? {102} And he said: No, lest while you gather up the cockle, you root up the wheat also together with it. Let both grow until the harvest, and in the time of the harvest I will say to the reapers: Gather up first the cockle, and bind it into bundles to burn; but gather the wheat into my barn. ------------------- Sermon XXIX. The Christian Family. _Bearing with one another._ --Epistle of the Day. No doubt you have often read about the oasis in the desert: a place of tall, shady trees, soft, green grass, and a great spring pouring out sweet, cold water. There the hot and dusty caravan stops, though it be miles out of the way; the heavy burdens are thrown off, and men and animals rest and drink and rest again. For one long, burning day they lie about on the grass and look off from their shady refuge over the yellow, sandy desert. They sleep and are rested; and as the cool dews of evening fall they take a last drink and creep away on their journey, sighing to think of the long and weary tramp to the next oasis. Dear brethren, the oasis in the desert of this world is the Christian family. The father of the family "shall be like a tree which is planted near the running waters." It is indeed but a feeble word to say that the influence of a good father is like the deep shade of a noble tree in the heat of summer, His influence is like the grace of God. Indeed, there is nothing in all this world so much like the presence of God as the influence of a Christian father. {103} When the instinct of the Christian people would give a name to a good priest they called him father. What is more edifying than the virtue of a good father? In him are chiefly to be seen those manly virtues which are the highest form of human excellence: hearty love, self-restraint, open frankness joining heart, hand, and voice in one. In him you admire that steadfast application to religious things, that regular use of prayer and of the sacraments, that clear knowledge of doctrine and ability to converse about it, that utter absence of frivolity, that intelligent practice of good reading. He is contented with his lot, and yet labors with steady, persistent industry. In prosperity he is modest and frugal. In adversity he is cheerful, a strong wall for others to lean against. He loves home and is fond of his wife. Gladly will he tend the babes while the mother gets the Sunday Mass, or of a Saturday evening while she goes to refresh her weary soul with a good confession. The company of his children is to him a foretaste of Paradise. He is not sour, nor is he brutal or harsh. He is not above making the children laugh or joining in their play; to make them happy and help them save their souls is his greatest joy. Then there is the mother of the family, whose life is one unbroken round of acts of affection. The spirit of sacrifice, the craving to bear others burdens, is her spirit. You know how a good mother watches at the sick-bed the livelong night, passing back and forth through the dark rooms, listening to every breathing, answering every sigh with a comforting word, or a cool drink, or a soft caress. Only the next world will reveal to us the loveliness of such devoted souls; here we catch but a glimpse and an echo of it. {104} The accents, the tones of the voice, the very silence, the manners, the ways of a good mother diffuse what Scripture calls the fragrance of ointments around her household. You know, too, how she saves and pinches to keep off debt, to dress the children neatly, to save a penny to give them a holiday, to save a dollar for hard times or a spell of sickness. And all this sacrifice is a matter of course with her. But the truest glory of a mother is her patience. The patient mother is the valiant woman of Scripture. She is the woman who smothers her anger; who will suffer the impertinence of an unruly child in silence; who forgets as well as forgives; whose admonition or correction is the reluctant tribute of a tender heart to the child's well-being. Do you want to know how she is able to do this? The secret of it is that she finds time--in the heavy duty of being everybody's servant--to attend to religion; to belong to the Rosary Society and make her monthly Communion; to give alms to the poor from her hard savings; to visit and watch with sick, or afflicted neighbors. It is, in a word, because she ever gazes in spirit upon that Holy Family where Mary was mother that she is able to be a good Christian mother. When I began I intended to say something of the good boys and girls; while we have been engaged with father and mother the children have passed by. Perhaps we shall overtake them next Sunday. ------------------- {105} Sermon XXX. The Duty Of Good Example. _Use your endeavor to walk honestly towards them that are without._ 1 Thessalonians iv. 11. The holiness of the church, my dear brethren, is for us who belong to her a thing so evident and clear that we can no more think it necessary to prove it than we can think it necessary to prove that the sun shines in the heavens. The practical and imperative way in which the church enforces holiness of life on each and every one of us is something with which we are so familiar that no shadow of doubt can enter into our minds as to its necessity. The means of grace which she offers to us, and of which she even requires us to make use, the sacrament of the Body and Blood of the Lord himself which she gives us, the penances she imposes upon us by way of fasting and abstinence, the warnings which she is ever giving us of the condemnation which will fall upon impenitent sinners, these and ten thousand other things make the sanctity of the church so well known that it is not so much an article of faith as a thing which we see with our own eyes and which falls under our own experience. But there are those who are without these advantages. There are many around us, our near neighbors and friends, who are outside the church, not through their own fault, but by birth and education. These are not in possession of those means of knowing the church and her sanctity of which we are possessed; and in order to have this knowledge they depend to a very large extent upon ourselves. {106} I wish this morning to call your attention to the responsibility which rests upon us on this account, and to one or two practical ways in which we are accountable to God for what that responsibility involves. Now, that we lie under this responsibility is a truth not very hard to see. For, as I have said, those outside the church are ignorant of the doctrine and practices of the church. From their earliest years they have had utterly false and erroneous information given them about the church, an information so false and erroneous that they do not think it necessary or even right to make inquiries. How, then, are they to have the truth brought home to them? What way is there of spreading the light? Almost the only way, and certainly a way so necessary that without it all others are futile and vain, is that those who are called Catholics should lead such lives as the church requires of them. Now, if we do not do this we are of course responsible to God, as every man, be he Catholic or be he Protestant, is responsible to God for his whole life and every action in it. But more than that, a special responsibility in this time and in this country lies at the door of every Catholic man and every Catholic woman. Every Catholic man and woman who does not lead a good life is a stumbling-block and a rock of offence standing in the way and preventing many poor souls from seeing and embracing that truth which is necessary for their salvation; and those Catholics whose way of living forms such a stumbling-block will have to give a strict account to God not merely for their own sins and for themselves, but also for the souls of others whom they have ruined. {107} Now, I am going on this account to ask you some questions which I hope you will answer honestly and conscientiously. And they will be questions about matters on which the world outside is competent to judge; and, therefore, if we fail in this respect we shall meet with its condemnation, and become hindrances to the knowledge of the truth. First: There is nothing of which the business world thinks so much as truth, uprightness, integrity in business matters. To pay debts promptly, to do work squarely, to execute contracts faithfully, these are some of the marks of an honest man. Now, in view of what I have said, ask yourselves, is this way of acting the mark of all Catholics? Will a man who wants to get a house built, who is looking for a trustworthy clerk or assistant, choose out Catholics in preference to others, because he knows that they are worthy of trust? If this is not the case, if the being a Catholic is no guarantee of trustworthiness, you will have to answer to God for the bad effect your dishonesty has upon those outside. And now a question for women. You all know in what virtue consists, the glory and honor of women. You all know what the world expects of women. You know, too, how much the church makes of modesty and chastity, in what honor she holds them, how strict she is in inculcating their necessity. Now, one of the effects of genuine modesty and chastity is to overawe and overpower the approaches of the unclean and impure. There is a majesty in virtue which lays low and keeps at its level vileness and impurity. Is everyone who comes near a Catholic girl or woman conscious of this influence? {108} Is there something about every Catholic girl and woman which makes it clear to every dirty fellow that he must go elsewhere if he wishes to find a victim and a means of satisfying his disgraceful passions? It ought to be so, for the soul of every Catholic girl and woman, over and above the majesty of natural virtue, is the abode and dwelling-place of the grace of God. And if you are true children of the church such will be the effect your presence will have. Well, my brethren, ask yourselves these questions; answer them honestly; and, if you find that you have done wrong, amend, not merely for your own sake but for that of those outside. ------------------- Sermon XXXI. Bearing One Another's Burdens. _Bearing with one another, and forgiving one another if any have a complaint against one another: even as the Lord hath forgiven you, so do you also._ --Epistle of the Day (Colossians iii. 13). Perhaps you may think, my dear friends, that we have a good deal to say about this matter of charity and forgiveness, and if you do you are probably right; it was not long ago that we had occasion to remind you of it in one of these little morning instructions. But why should we not speak of it often? Is not the love of our neighbor the second great commandment, like to and founded on the first? Does not St. John also make it the test of our salvation? "We know," he says, "that we have passed from death to life"; and why? {109} Is it because we fast, say long prayers, visit the church, or even because we receive the sacraments often? No, it is "because we love the brethren." And he continues: "He that loveth not, abideth in death. ... We ought," he goes on to say, "to lay down our lives for the brethren." In the latter years of the life of St. John, when he had become so old and feeble that he had to be carried to the church, and was not able to preach at any length to his beloved people, he would still give them a little short sermon. It was very short; not even a five-minute sermon; and it was not fresh every Sunday, but always the same. It was just this: "Little children, love one another." But his people, in spite of their great reverence and affection for him, were something like people nowadays, and got rather tired of hearing this same old story. They wanted something more novel and startling, and one day they asked him: "Master, why do you never tell us anything but this about loving one another?" He answered: "Because it is the Lord's command, and if it is fulfilled it is sufficient." If St. John, then, preached about this matter of charity every Sunday, certainly we may be allowed to speak of it several times in the year. And you, my dear Christians, will not lose anything by hearing about it pretty often. For the matter is one in which there is always great room for improvement for us all. St. John said "little children"; but he was not speaking to the Sunday-school, if, indeed, he had one; no, it was to the children, big as well as little, children all of God and of his holy church, that his words were addressed. {110} And these words are more needed now than they were then. Why, in the early times Christians used to be known from other people by their love and charity for each other. It was this that made converts to the faith, more, perhaps, than preaching or miracles. "See," said the world, "how these Christians love one another." But now I am afraid it would be hard to pick out very many Christians by this test. No; it is more likely that our infidel friends would say of all the Christians that they happen to know: "See how these Christians are all the time quarrelling with each other! They never seem to be content unless they can show their pride by having at least some one who is not supposed to be worthy of their acquaintance. They go to church and say their prayers--oh! yes; but perhaps there is some person, even in the next pew, that they used to know, but have not spoken to for years, and have no notion of ever speaking to, unless, perhaps, on their death-bed if the priest should insist on it. Bearing with one another, indeed! Is it possible that one of their Apostles told them to do that? Why, they do not put up with half as much as a sensible man would who had no faith at all. Let them suffer the least even fancied slight or indignity, and there is an end of all their friendship. Forgiving one another, as they say the Lord has forgiven them? Well, if the Lord forgives as they do, his forgiveness does not seem to amount to much." My brethren, depend on it, those not of our faith feel often this way, though they may not say it right out. And they are not far wrong. The kind of bearing with others, the kind of forgiveness, that is given them by those who have the name of Christians is too often one that will not stand the test of God's judgment. {111} I am afraid that many pious people have found themselves in the wrong place after death on account of it. Let those who still remain profit by this lesson while they have time. ------------------- {112} _Sixth Sunday after Epiphany._ Epistle. 1 _Thessalonians i._ 2-10. Brethren: We give thanks to God always for you all: making a remembrance of you in our prayers without ceasing, being mindful of the work of your faith, and labor, and charity, and of the enduring of the hope of our Lord Jesus Christ before God and our Father: knowing, brethren beloved of God, your election: for our gospel hath not been to you in word only, but in power also, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much fulness, as you know what manner of men we have been among you for your sakes. And you became followers of us, and of the Lord: receiving the word in much tribulation, with joy of the Holy Ghost: so that you were made a pattern to all who believe in Macedonia and Achaia. For from you was spread abroad the word of the Lord, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but also in every place, your faith which is towards God, is gone forth, so that we need not to speak anything. For they themselves relate of us, what manner of entrance we had unto you; and how you were converted to God from idols, to serve the living and true God. And to wait for his Son from Heaven (whom he raised from the dead), Jesus who hath delivered us from the wrath to come. Gospel. _St. Matthew xiii_. 31-35. At that time: Jesus spoke to the multitude this parable: The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard-seed, which a man took and sowed in his field. Which indeed is the least of all seeds; but when it is grown up it is greater than any herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and dwell in the branches thereof. {113} Another parable he spoke to them. The kingdom of heaven is like to leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, until the whole was leavened. All these things Jesus spoke in parables to the multitudes: and without parables he did not speak to them. That the word might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, saying: "I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter things hidden from the foundation of the world." ------------------- Sermon XXXII. How To Make Converts. _The kingdom of heaven is like to leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, until the whole was leavened. _ --Gospel of the Day. By the kingdom of heaven is meant in this Gospel, as in many other places, the holy Catholic Church; the spiritual kingdom of God, which is of heaven, though on earth; and leaven is another word for what we call yeast, and is used in the making of bread. Our Divine Lord, then, tells us that his church, to which we belong, is like yeast; and his meaning, if we consider a little, is plain enough. It is, that as a little yeast is put into a mass of flour or dough, to raise it, as we say, so he has put his church, which was in the beginning a very small thing, into the world, to raise the world to life and the knowledge and love of him. {114} And certainly his comparison of the church to yeast was fully justified. In the beginning the world was everywhere attracted and moved in spite of itself by the lives of the first Christians. The heathen could not help admiring their mutual charity, their patient and forgiving dispositions, their temperance and self-sacrifice; and they could not refrain from asking themselves and each other: "Who are these that they call Christians? What do they believe, and what do they teach? What is it that makes them so loving and so amiable, so calm and peaceful, so happy in all their troubles, so ready to assist and serve not only each other, but all the world beside?" But no one could answer these questions but the Christians themselves; so the heathen had to go and get instructed in this faith which had been made so charming to them. Thus they were converted, and in their turn became apostles in the same way to others. So the leaven spread through the mass; the contagion, so to speak, of faith, piety, and virtue was diffused over the world; people caught it from their neighbors. The Apostles had no need to make many converts in any one place which they visited. If they got a few, these few would take care of the rest. The little congregations which they founded grew and multiplied wonderfully, in spite of distress and persecution, by the force of the holy lives and good example of their members. But was this way of growing only meant for God's church in the beginning? No, by no means. Our Lord says that the leaven of his kingdom was to go on working "till the whole was leavened." Does it, then, still move the world in this way? If so, how rapidly ought the church now to increase, when there are a thousand faithful for one in those early days! {115} Yes, my brethren, it ought. For in spite of the boasts which the world is making of its reformed religion, especially just now, and of its progress and civilization, it feels at heart very uneasy. It has fallen away from God, and lost the truth, and in its inmost soul it knows this; and it is looking for somone to bring light to its darkness, and to put its confusion in order. Why, then, does not the church increase more rapidly? Why does not the world now come to us as it did in those former days of its anxiety and doubt? Prejudices it has now against us, I know; but it had its prejudices then, too. There are many slanders believed against us, but that has been so from the very beginning; our Lord warned us of this, and it is a mark of his true church to be thus belied. So this is not the real trouble; no, the trouble is that most Christians do not by the good odor of their lives induce the world to inquire into their faith, and thus overcome its prejudices. We may argue till we and everyone else are ready to drop, but we shall never be as the first disciples were--the leaven of God's kingdom--till we show by our lives that there is something more in us than the natural feelings, good or bad, which make up the lives of others. Christians who forgive and excuse their enemies, who have charity for all, who are chaste and pure in word and deed, who are humble and self-denying, those are the ones--and, thank God, such there are--who make converts; and if we want the leaven of the kingdom to spread and raise the world to Christ we must be like them. ------------------- {116} Sermon XXXIII. The Blessings Of The Faith. _I will utter things hidden from the foundation of the world._ --Matthew. xiii. 35. These are the concluding words of to-day's Gospel, and they refer to the great truths that are made known to us through the revelation of Almighty God. For as believers in a divine revelation we know things that have been hidden from the beginning, and we have a knowledge that transcends all human knowledge. Our faith gives us light which our reason could never supply. We might spend our whole lives in the most profound study and investigation, we might dip into all the systems and master all the sciences, and we should still be ignorant of certain truths which our faith makes known to us. When we look back over the world's history and see the greatest minds of every age and country groping in the dark, seeking in vain for the knowledge which we possess, we can appreciate what a glorious privilege it is to be enlightened by the divine light of faith. For where its rays do not penetrate there can never be sufficient security in regard to the most vital truths of human origin and human destiny. We see the sad evidences of this all around us in the world to-day. Men who refuse to accept the revelation of Almighty God and the teachings of his church are in ignorance, or at least they are in doubt, about the origin and end of life. They are even in doubt as to the existence of God himself, though the universe by a thousand voices proclaims his presence and their own souls reflect his image. {117} From age to age the human mind busies itself over the deep questions of philosophy and the discoveries of science. From generation to generation men seek to solve the great problems of life by the force of reason; but revelation alone can adequately disclose the "things hidden from the foundation of the world," and without its divine light and guidance mankind must ever remain liable to sink into darkness and doubt. How widely different is the state of the mind established in the settled convictions of faith from that where there is nothing but the theories and opinions of human knowledge! In the one there is the repose of certainty, security, and peace; in the other there are many puzzles unsolved, promptings unsatisfied, disquiet, and unrest. One short lesson learned in the school of divine faith will give more light and bring more comfort to the soul than all the knowledge that can be acquired in a life-time in the schools of human learning. Great stress is laid nowadays on secular education. And we are told that what the country needs, what the world needs, are intelligent and cultivated men and women; and certainly education is an excellent thing, and most desirable for all. But why make so much of a knowledge that concerns only the petty things of earth and the fleeting course of time, and ignore a knowledge that relates to the Infinite God in heaven and a life that is everlasting? What will it profit us on our death-bed to have learned the facts in the world's history, to have been familiar with the teachings of philosophy and the discoveries of science, to have studied the writings and mastered the thoughts of men, if we know nothing of our Creator and our relation to him and the course of our destiny; nothing of the preparation we should make beforehand and the thoughts that should animate us as we stand on the brink of eternity? {118} Here is the great contrast between the knowledge that God imparts to us and all human science--the one imparts to us the truths of eternity, the other teaches us the truths of time; and the difference between them is just as great as that between time and eternity. And if, as is generally the case, we estimate the value of a thing by its importance and permanence, there is surely no term of comparison here. The little child who has learned the first page of the Catholic Catechism has already acquired a knowledge which forty centuries of human speculation have never reached, and the simplest believer in Jesus Christ and his church is possessed of a wisdom far higher, far holier, than was ever conceived of by the greatest sages of old. Let us realize, then, that faith is the highest knowledge, that it discloses to us "things hidden from the foundation of the world," and makes us sharers in the knowledge of God himself, and therefore elevates and crowns our reason. ------------------- Sermon XXXIV. Good Example As A Means Of Making Converts. _The kingdom of heaven is like to leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, until the whole was leavened._ --Matthew xiii. 33 {119} This may seem a very strange comparison, my brethren, if, instead of letting it in at one ear, as the saying is, and out at the other, we stop to think of it a moment. For what sort of likeness is there between that glorious kingdom of heaven, which we hope some day to enter, and a little leaven or yeast put into flour to raise it and make it into bread? Surely, we should say, none at all. What could our Lord have meant when he said that the two were alike? But let us think a little more about the matter. Is the kingdom of heaven of which he was speaking that heaven into which all the saved are to enter? Or is there not some other meaning which we may give to the words? There is another meaning, and it is the true one in this place and in many others in the Gospel. It is the kingdom of God or of heaven, not in heaven, but on earth, of which our Saviour is here speaking. When he says the kingdom of heaven, he means the kingdom which he came to establish, his holy Catholic Church. But how is this leaven, or yeast? Well, it is not so very hard to see this. It is because, being put into the world in the beginning in the form of a few weak, poor, and unlearned men and women, like the little spoonful of yeast put into a great mass of flour, it soon spread through the whole known world, and is even now spreading in the same way, changing and influencing in many ways all whom it meets with, even if it does not fully convert them: just as the yeast is spread through the whole of the dough, raising it and making it into good and healthy food. {120} Yes, my brethren, this was the way that the church spread through the world and made its converts, especially in the early times. It was not only by preaching. The Apostles and their successors did not have much chance to preach to the world in general. They were not allowed to do so; public preaching would have brought down on them much greater persecutions than those which they actually suffered, and it would have required great miracles on God's part to preserve his church had such preaching been tried, especially in the great cities. No, they had to teach their doctrine, as we may say, on the sly; in fact, part of it was reserved for those who had already become Christians. It may seem strange now, but in early times no one was allowed to hear anything about the real presence of our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament till after he had been baptized. This was called the discipline of the secret, and was kept up for a long time. So, you see, Christianity was not learned in the pagan Roman Empire so much by preaching as by private instruction joined with good example. One person caught it from another, as the particles of dough get raised by those next to them. Masters and mistresses, for instance, caught it from their servants, others from their friends and acquaintances--first, from noticing their virtues, so different from those which the pagans had. They saw how gentle and affectionate, and still how courageous, they were; how they bore suffering without a murmur; how they shrank from the idols worshipped by others, and from all the vices which these idols represented; how little they cared for pleasure; how each sacrificed himself for his neighbor. "See," said the world, "how these Christians love one another." Then the world began to inquire what was the reason of this love and of the other Christian virtues; and so religion spread from the lowest to the highest, till at last the Roman emperors themselves knelt before the cross. {121} Things are somewhat changed now, it is true. The Catholic faith can now be preached and taught openly; still, it is almost the same as if it could not, for people outside the church will seldom come and hear it, or even read books explaining it. The discipline of the secret still prevails, not because we wish it, but because the world does. So now, as before, the faith must catch and spread from one person to another if it is to make much progress in such countries as this of ours. Protestants run away from the priest, and will have nothing to say to him; so it will not do to say that making converts is the priest's business and does not concern you. No, my brethren, making converts is your business, as things stand, perhaps even more than his. But how are they to be made? Not by cursing, lying, and drunkenness, sins too common, alas! among many who call themselves Catholics, and specially liable to be noticed by others. It was not by these that the first Christians converted the world. Not by quarrels and slanders; it is not by these that you will convince people that we Christians love one another. Turn, then, from the vices which repel, and practise instead virtues which will attract unbelievers, and lead them to inquire why you are so good instead of wondering that you are so bad. Then they will come to you, as they did of old to your ancestors in the faith, to learn the doctrine which has taught you these virtues; and you will be, as you should be, the leaven which is to leaven the world. -------------------- {122} _Septuagesima Sunday_. Epistle. 1 _Corinthians ix._ 24; x. 5. Brethren: Know you not that they who run in the race, all run indeed, but one receiveth the prize? So run that you may obtain. And every one that striveth for the mastery refraineth himself from all things; and they indeed that they may receive a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible one. I therefore so run, not as at an uncertainty: I so fight, not as one beating the air: but I chastise my body, and bring it into subjection: lest perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become reprobate. For I would not have you ignorant, brethren, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea. And all in Moses were baptized, in the cloud and in the sea; and they did all eat the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink (and they drank of the spiritual rock that followed them, and the rock was Christ). But with the most of them God was not well pleased. Gospel. _St. Matthew xx._ 1-16. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples this parable: The kingdom of heaven is like to a master of a family, who went early in the morning to hire laborers into his vineyard. And when he had agreed with the laborers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And he went out about the third hour and saw others standing in the market-place idle. And he said to them: Go you also into my vineyard, and I will give you what shall be just. {123} And they went their way. And again he went out about the sixth and the ninth hour, and did in like manner. But about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing, and he saith to them: Why stand you here all the day idle? They say to him: Because no man hath hired us. Ho saith to them: Go you also into my vineyard. And when evening was come, the lord of the vineyard saith to his steward: Call the laborers and pay them their hire, beginning from the last even to the first. When, therefore, they came, who had come about the eleventh hour, they received every man a penny. But when the first also came, they thought that they should have received more, and they also received every man a penny. And when they received it, they murmured against the master of the house, saying: These last have worked but one hour, and thou hast made them equal to us, that have borne the burden of the day and the heats. But he answering one of them, said: Friend, I do thee no wrong; didst thou not agree with me for a penny? Take what is thine and go thy way: I will also give to this last even as to thee. Or, is it not lawful for me to do what I will? is thy eye evil because I am good? So shall the last be first, and the first last. For many are called, but few chosen. ------------------- Sermon XXXV. Bodily Mortification. "I chastise my body," says St. Paul in the Epistle of to-day, "and bring it into subjection." In these few words he gives us the great reason for the Catholic doctrine and practice of bodily mortification and penance, which Protestants so often find fault with. {124} "I chastise my body," he says, "and bring it into subjection"; that is, "I chastise it, because I want to bring it into subjection. I want to tame it, to become its master; so I give it a good beating, I starve it now and then, and treat it badly generally, that it may learn to obey me." That is the great idea of mortification, my brethren, in a nutshell. Every one knows that if you want to break a vicious horse you have to put him through a pretty severe course of treatment before he will be subject to your will. And every one knows that the body is naturally unruly, like a vicious horse; the body is always craving for things which it would be better that it should not have, and it will have them in spite of us if we do not take care. So, to subject it thoroughly to reason, we must put it through a severe course; otherwise, some time or other, it will get the better of us, and have its own way. And there is a great deal more need of taming our own bodies than there is of breaking horses. For the horse can only kill our body, but our bodies can kill our souls; and furthermore, if we do not want to take the trouble of breaking a horse, we can shoot him, or get somebody else to take him; but we can not in anyway lawfully get rid of our bodies till such time as God sees fit to take them from us. We are tied fast to them, and cannot get away. So we are absolutely obliged to conquer them, if we do not want to be conquered by them. In other words, if we do not want our bodies to be a frequent cause and occasion of mortal sin to us, we must to some considerable extent practise mortification. {125} That is the Catholic and true doctrine, as taught by the church, and put into practice, in some degree at least, by all the faithful who obey her laws. And it is also common sense. Every one must admit that the body is the great cause and source of mortal sin to far the greater number of people, and that if its appetites were thoroughly brought under control our souls would be saved from very great dangers, which otherwise they cannot escape. If, then, it is any object to escape these dangers--and no sensible man can deny that it is--one does not need to be a Christian, but only to have the gift of reason, and to look a little into himself and into the world about him, and he must grant that the bodily penances and mortifications which the church insists on are not foolish or superstitious, but in the highest degree prudent and wise. But I know, my dear brethren, that you do not think that the mortification of the body required by the church is useless or superstitious; I give you too much credit for faith as well as for reason to imagine that. You do need courage, though--we all need it--to act up to what we believe in this matter. Let us then look this question fairly in the face. There is heaven before us to be gained, and sin to be overcome that we may gain it; and here are our bodies, with their depraved, corrupted, and often dangerous and sinful desires, standing in the way of our gaining it. If we will only determine in earnest to get the mastery of them, heaven is almost sure; if we do not, they will be very likely to carry us to hell. If we overcome them, we save ourselves and them, and make them a help instead of a hindrance to us; if not, they will do their best to drag us down with themselves to destruction, and if in the mercy of God we may indeed be saved it will be as by fire. Shall we not take a little trouble when such tremendous interests are at stake? Shall we trust to luck when a little effort will make heaven sure? ------------------- {126} Sermon XXXVI. Sudden Death. _Watch ye, therefore, because you know not the day nor the hour._ --Matthew. xxv. 13. These words, my dear brethren, are taken from the parable of the ten virgins who went out to meet the bridegroom and the bride. Five of them, being wise and prudent, took oil in their lamps, that they might be ready at any moment to light them; but the five foolish ones gave no thought to the matter. At midnight, when they least expected it, the cry was heard, "Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye forth to meet him." Then the foolish virgins tried to borrow oil from the wise to fill their lamps, but were told to go and buy for themselves. While they were gone the bridegroom came; they were not ready; the door of the marriage-feast was closed when they returned, and in answer to their entreaty, "Lord, lord, open to us," came only the words, "I know you not." "Watch ye, therefore," says our Lord, in concluding this parable, "because you know not the day nor the hour." Brethren, the meaning of this parable is so plain that it hardly needs even a word of explanation. Yet how unheeded it is, alas! by the majority of Christians! {127} What does this oil mean that the foolish virgins neglected to provide for themselves and to have in their lamps? What but the grace of God, with, which our souls should be provided, and without which they are in the state of mortal sin? If this precious oil of God's grace is in our souls we are ready at any moment to meet the Bridegroom; no matter how suddenly the cry is made that he is coming, we can go forth with confidence to meet him and feel sure that the door of the marriage-feast of heaven will not be closed to us. But if we have not this oil, if the lamp of our soul is empty, if we are in the state of mortal sin, what dismay comes on us, what terrible fear and distress of mind, when we are suddenly told to prepare for death! We have been saying all along, "Oh! there will be plenty of time," and now there is not plenty of time. God is coming to meet us, and to demand of us an account of our lives; we cannot hide from his face, and he will not wait. The hour fixed in the eternal counsels of his wisdom has come, the hour on which everything depends, the hour for which the years of our life should have been one long preparation, those years so carelessly thrown away. Friends may stand around us who have not wasted the oil in their lamps as we have ours. Their souls may be full of the grace of God, preserved and increased continually by prayer and good works, by the love of God and frequent confession and Communion. They may have enough and to spare; but they can not lend to us. "No," they must say to us, "go rather to them that sell, and buy for yourselves. Go rather," that is, "to the regular sources of that grace, the sacraments, which our Lord has placed in his church, to give life to the dead. Send for the priest, and with his help fill the lamp of your soul, and prepare to meet our Lord." {128} But too often it is as in the parable of the virgins. While the foolish Christian, who has put off his preparation for death, who has lived in the state of sin, expecting to die in the state of grace, goes to fill his lamp, his Lord comes, finds him, and judges him as he is. The priest comes, but only to look on him lying dead. Or even if the oil of grace is brought to the sinner, he has not, perhaps, the price to pay for it; that is, he has not those dispositions of sincere penitence and amendment of life, without which all sacraments are vain and ineffectual. Brethren, it is a fearful point in the parable of the wise and foolish virgins that not one of the five who were so carelessly unprepared was able to have her lamp ready to meet the bridegroom in his coming. It should teach us to expect that, as a rule, a man must die as he has lived. No doubt there are exceptions; the mercy of God is over all, and wills not that the sinner should perish. But the only safe way, the only way, indeed, that is not the wildest folly, and even insanity, is to live as all good Christians do live, continually prepared for death; with the grace of God always in their souls, with no stain of mortal sin on them; with "their loins girt, and lamps burning in their hands"; and "like to men who wait for their lord when he shall return from the wedding: that when he cometh and knocketh they may open to him immediately." ------------------- {129} Sermon XXXVII. Life's Purpose. _Brethren, know you not that they that run in the race, all run indeed, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that you may obtain._ 1 Corinthians. ix. 24. There is a great question, my dear brethren, that comes home some time or other to every man in the world who is not entirely taken up with the passing pleasures and fleeting interests of the moment; to every man, that is, who lives as a man, and not as a mere child. It is the most important and vital of all questions; and it will return often on us, put it away as much as we will. It is this: "What am I here for? what is the use, what is the purpose of all this life which I am living? What is the goal to which it is tending? what end do I hope to obtain?" Yes, we must look forward in this way sometimes, and we must try to find something in the future better worth having than what we have now, or our life, with its labors and fatigues, becomes a burden almost too great to be borne. So one man proposes wealth, another knowledge and learning, another fame and honor as his object in life; or at least he looks forward to bringing up children to whom he can leave his memory and his name, and who will carry on and complete the work he has begun. But we Christians do not seek for an answer to this question. The answer is written plainly by faith in our souls; we may try to forget it or put something else in its place, but we shall find no other in which we can believe. {130} The answer for us is, that this life has no end or object in itself which can justify or explain it, but that it is a time of trial, of probation for something better; that we live in order that it may be seen from our life whether we are worthy to share in an eternal life; that only beyond the grave can what the soul longs for be attained, and that we may fail in attaining it if we do not keep it steadily in view and work for it with all the strength we have. So our life is a race, a struggle for an immense and unspeakable prize to come at its end; and a prize which will never be offered again if we do not secure it this time. If we fail in this life our failure can never be retrieved; nor will anything else ever be offered us to live for. For all eternity we shall see what we might have had, and shall be tortured with vain remorse; and nothing else will give us even a moment's peace. This eternity will be intolerable, even were there no other pains in it; but on account of this alone we shall seek death for ever, and never find it. And from this race, this struggle in which we are now entered, there is no escape. We cannot withdraw and have our name struck from the list of contestants. There is no half-way place which we can take between triumph and defeat. "Know you not," says St. Paul, "that all run in the race?" Yes, a power greater than ours has put us on the track, and is drawing us along it, whether we will or no. We cannot remain as we are, for He whose power has placed us here has made us for himself, and we cannot rest till we rest in him. {131} Since, then, we have to run in the race; since we have to suffer, to labor, to pursue a happiness which we now have not; since we must do this even in spite of ourselves; since we cannot sit down and give up our place, what folly it is to run to no purpose, to turn aside and try to forget the only possible reward for all our toil, the only thing that can make the life which we must live worth living! Let St. Paul's words on this Sunday sink into our minds; and, since we have to run in this race on which everything depends, let us not trifle and lose its precious moments, but so run that we may obtain. ------------------- {132} _Sexagesima Sunday_ Epistle. 2 _Corinthians xi._ 19-_xii._ 9. Brethren: You gladly suffer the foolish: whereas you yourselves are wise. For you suffer if a man bring you into bondage, if a man devour you, if a man take from you, if a man be extolled, if a man strike you on the face. I speak according to dishonor, as if we had been weak in this part. Wherein if any man is bold (I speak foolishly) I am bold also. They are Hebrews; so am I. They are Israelites; so am I. They are the seed of Abraham; so am I. They are the ministers of Christ (I speak as one less wise), I am more; in many more labors, in prisons more frequently, in stripes above measure, in deaths often. Of the Jews five times did I receive forty stripes, save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once I was stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck; a night and a day I was in the depth of the sea; in journeys often, in perils of rivers, in perils of robbers, in perils from my own nation, in perils from the Gentiles, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils from false brethren: in labor and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in many fastings, in cold and nakedness. Besides those things which are without: my daily instance, the solicitude for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is scandalized, and I do not burn? If I must needs glory, I will glory of the things that concern my infirmity. The God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is blessed for ever, knoweth that I lie not. {133} At Damascus the governor of the nation under Aretas the king, guarded the city of the Damascenes to apprehend me. And through a window in a basket was I let down by the wall, and so escaped his hands. If I must glory (for it is not expedient indeed); but I will come to visions and revelations of the Lord. I know a man in Christ above fourteen years ago (whether in the body I know not, or out of the body I know not: God knoweth), such an one caught up to the third heaven. And I know such a man, whether in the body or out of the body, I know not: God knoweth; that he was caught up into paradise; and heard secret words which it is not granted to man to utter. Of such an one I will glory; but for myself I will glory nothing, but in my infirmities. For even if I would glory, I shall not be foolish: for I will say the truth. But I forbear, lest any man should think of me above that which he seeth in me, or anything he heareth from me. And lest the greatness of the revelations should puff me up, there was given me a sting of my flesh, an angel of Satan to buffet me. For which thing I thrice besought the Lord, that it might depart from me; and he said to me: My grace is sufficient for thee; for power is made perfect in infirmity. Gladly therefore will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Gospel. _St. Luke viii._ 4-15. At that time: When a very great multitude was gathered together and hastened out of the cities to him, he spoke by a similitude. A sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed some fell by the wayside, and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it. And some fell upon a rock; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it had no moisture. And some fell among thorns, and the thorns growing up with it, choked it. And some fell upon good ground; and sprung up, and yielded fruit a hundredfold. Saying these things, he cried out: He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. And his disciples asked him what this parable might be. {134} To whom he said: To you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God; but to the rest in parables, that seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand. Now the parable is this: The seed is the word of God. And they by the wayside are they that hear: then the devil cometh, and taketh the word out of their heart, lest believing they should be saved. Now they upon the rock, are they who when they hear, receive the word with joy: and these have no roots; who believe for a while, and in time of temptation fall away. And that which fell among thorns, are they who have heard, and going their way, are choked with the cares, and riches, and pleasures of this life, and yield no fruit. But that on the good ground, are they who in a good and perfect heart, hearing the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit in patience. ------------------- Sermon XXXVIII. Perseverance After A Mission. _Power is made perfect in infirmity. _ --Epistle of the Day. Not so very long ago, my dear brethren, we had a great mission in this church. It was well attended--that was almost a matter of course; for, thank God, every one considers it a shame to neglect so great a grace when it is offered, and the Catholic who refuses to attend a mission is regarded by those who know him as being in a very bad and dangerous state. {135} And the mission, I trust, was on the whole well made by those who attended it. They made good confessions; they felt true sorrow for their sins. And they made real purposes of amendment against their vices, whatever they might be. The drunkard promised to abstain from drink for God's sake, though it might be almost the only thing that gave him pleasure; the impure promised to abandon and stamp out his evil passions and habits; the one who had neglected Mass and the other duties of his religion out of laziness, gluttony, or indifference, promised to be faithful to them for the future. But how many of the thousands who made these promises have kept them? How many of those who were not leading a Christian life before the mission are now doing so? Some certainly; yes, some of the seed of the word of God, of which our Lord speaks in to-day's Gospel, which was then sown, has indeed sprung up and borne fruit, it may be a hundredfold. Some, in a good heart, hearing the word, have kept it, and brought forth fruit in patience. But, alas! how many, on the other hand, have been like the wayside, the rock, or the thorns in our Lord's parable! The seed sprang up, and remained for a few days or weeks; but now, if you look for it, it has gone, trampled under foot, choked, or withered away. Now, what is the reason of all this sad want of perseverance? Was it that those who made their confessions then were not sincere; that they made promises which they did not really expect to keep? Perhaps that may have been so with some of them; for some people do seem to think that one cannot be expected to avoid mortal sin, unless he is a priest or a religious, and even call others hypocrites who believe that they can and do avoid it. But there were others who failed--and these were a great many--because they thought they had only to say that they would do the thing, and that then the thing would be done. {136} They did not know how weak they were; perhaps they do not know it yet. They will find it out sometime, as those do who have often taken the pledge in vain; and then it may be that they will despair, which will be the worst of all. But if they use this knowledge right it will be their salvation. And how will knowing that they are weak save them? Will it make them strong? Yes, but not in their own strength; it will save them by making them turn to the infinite power of God. This is what our Lord told St. Paul, as we learn in the Epistle of to-day, when he asked to have his temptation removed. He said to him: "My grace is sufficient for thee, for power is made perfect in infirmity." The more we know our weakness the stronger we shall be, if our terror and distrust of ourselves will only make us turn to God in frequent, earnest, and fervent prayer for help, and in continual approach to the sacraments which he has given for our aid. Oh! if Christians would only learn this one great truth, how the whole face of things would change! How the most obstinate vices, the most deep-rooted spiritual disease, would melt away at the touch of the Great Physician of our souls, if we would only go to him continually for their cure! How easily we should overcome the enemy if we would only understand that of ourselves we cannot overcome him, but that we can do all things in Him who strengtheneth us; and, understanding this, would go to him for the strength that we cannot get elsewhere! {137} My brethren, you who have fallen and now fall so often, I beg you to put this truth in practice. You fail, and why? Because you have undertaken more than you can do. You wish to succeed? I hope so. Well, there is only one way. Do as you have done before, but also call God to the rescue. Pray frequently and fervently, and go often to confession and Communion, and success, instead of being hopeless, will be sure. ------------------- Sermon XXXIX. Good Seed But No Harvest. The Gospel of to-day, my brethren, is the parable of the sower who went out to sow his seed. Our Lord himself explains the parable, and tells us that the seed is the word of God; and the real sower of this word, of course, is God, from whom it comes, and from whom it has all its life and power. The ground in which this seed is sown is the mind and heart of man; or, to put the matter in a practical shape, it is your heart and mine. There are many people in this world to whom very little of it has come, at least compared with what we have had; but we cannot complain that we have not had our share. The word of God spoken by the mouth of man, in sermons, instructions, counsels, and warnings, from the altar and in the confessional, and not only from the priests but also from others who have been the ministers of God and the channels of his grace to us--it is certainly no strange or new sound in our ears. And not only in this way have we continually heard God's voice, but often, perhaps even more frequently, have we heard it coming immediately from him, and speaking in our own souls. {138} Plenty of this seed has, then, been sown in us; but where is the fruit, the harvest that should have come from it? Seed is not put in the ground merely to be kept there. No, it cannot be kept there; if it is not destroyed or carried away it must grow and multiply. The seed of God's word should, therefore, have grown in us. It should have been the beginning and the increase in us of the spiritual life, which should have grown stronger in us day by day from the time when we first came to the use of reason until the present moment. Now, how is it in fact? As we look back on our lives, do we find that this has actually been fulfilled in them? Are we better, more perfect, nearer to God now than we were last year, or even ten years ago? Is it not rather to be feared that we have fallen back; that we are more careless, perhaps, even about mortal sin, than we were in times past; or, to say the least, that habits of venial sin have gained on us, instead of being overcome; that our prayers are less fervent, our reception of the sacraments less frequent, our love of God weaker than in the years which have gone by? Holy Scripture tells us that the "path of the just, as a shining light, goeth forwards and increaseth even to perfect day." "The just"--that is, those who are habitually in God's grace, who have and keep the life of God in their souls. {139} The Christian virtues, the seeds of which were put in our souls at baptism, should have been growing during all our lives; they should have become strong trees now, deeply rooted and spreading far and wide. Even if they were killed at any time by the frost of mortal sin, they should have been speedily brought to life and renewed their growth before they had decayed and rotted away. Brethren, I need not ask you if this has been so with you. With some, no doubt, it has. They may not feel that they have drawn nearer to God, but really they have. Temptation does not find the material in them to work on that it did; to avoid evil and to do good is every day easier and easier; they have still cause to fear, it is true, but still more and more ground to hope. But, alas! how many there are in whom there is no sign of this growth which should have come from the seed which has been sown in them! Their light has not increased; no, it is almost always extinguished; when it does seem to shine it is but to flicker for a moment, and to disappear. The seed is no sooner sown in them than it is trampled under foot or carried away by the birds of the air. Brethren, if the life of grace is not growing in our souls; if we are not falling less frequently, and rising more easily from our falls, than before, our path is not that of the just, and the seed of the word of God has not yet taken that root which will make it bring forth a hundredfold. ------------------- {140} Sermon XL. The Uses Of Temptation. _My grace is sufficient for thee; for power is made perfect in infirmity._ --2 Corinthians xii. 9. To all who are striving to lead a good Christian life the example of the saints is a powerful means of encouragement, and the more so when we see in the saints themselves the evidences of our common human nature, when we see them encountering the same difficulties and struggling with the same temptations which we ourselves experience. Their great deeds and miracles exalt them to a sphere far above us, and, while they fill us with admiration, would yet have a tendency to discourage us were it not for those other passages in their lives when they seem to be brought down to our own level by contact with those evil influences which are ever seeking to sway our fallen nature. The fact that the saints have had to engage in conflict with the basest passions is so far from lowering them in our eyes that it only serves to make them dearer to us and to stimulate us to a more faithful imitation of them. And so St. Paul's account of himself in the Epistle of to-day has been a ground of encouragement to many a soul that had grown weary of an incessant warfare with temptation. The Apostle tells us that, in spite of the wondrous revelations and heavenly favors which he had received from God, he was yet tormented with temptations of the flesh. "And lest the greatness of the revelations should puff me up, there was given me a sting of my flesh, an angel of Satan to buffet me. {141} For which thing I thrice besought the Lord, that it might depart from me; he said to me: My grace is sufficient for thee; for power is made perfect in infirmity." To every soul struggling with temptation God speaks these same words of comfort. "What if you are weak and the temptation is strong? My grace is sufficient for you. My power shall be shown forth through your weakness, for what you could never do of your own strength I can and will do for you with my grace." Many are the lessons we can learn from this text. When we see the great Apostle of the Gentiles engaged in a hard conflict with the demon of impurity, it shows us that God does not spare in this respect even his most chosen servants. On the contrary, by refusing to grant the prayer of St. Paul that he might be delivered from this sting of the flesh, God teaches us that temptation is often a special mark of his favor, even as a general would place his best and bravest soldiers in the thickest of the fight. We are also taught that, no matter how vile the suggestions of the evil one, they cannot soil the heart of him who resists them. If, as soon as the sinfulness of the foul thought or imagination is realized, resistance be at once begun, and kept up until the suggestion is banished, we may be sure we have not yielded, especially if we have had recourse to prayer. From the shield of prayer the arrows of the tempter are sure to glance and fall harmlessly to the ground. But, on the other hand, these temptations teach us what we are in ourselves, or rather what we should be without the aid of God's grace. St. Paul tells us that God permitted those buffetings of Satan to preserve in him the virtue of humility, "lest the greatness of the revelations should puff me up." {142} The evil imaginations arising in our minds show us to what a depth we should sink were God to withdraw his grace from us and leave us to ourselves. We should, therefore, make of such temptations an occasion of humility, acknowledging our own worthlessness, our own weakness, yet glorying, as St. Paul did, in the power of God's grace, which is able to make us strong, and endow us with supernatural merit. And here lies the greatest value and use of temptations--God's power is made perfect in our infirmity. A crown of merit is the reward of victory in the fight. Without the temptation we should not have had the merit of overcoming it. In the hour of trial, then, take courage from these words of God to St. Paul: "My grace is sufficient for thee, for power is made perfect in infirmity." ------------------- {143} _Quinquagesima Sunday. _ Epistle. 1 _Corinthians xiii._ 1-13. Brethren: If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity. I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And if I should have prophecy, and should know all mysteries, and all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity is patient, is kind: charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely, is not puffed up, is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth: beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: whether prophecies shall be made void, or tongues shall cease, or knowledge shall be destroyed. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect shall come, that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child. I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But when I became a man, I put away the things of a child. We see now through a glass in an obscure manner: but then face to face. Now I know in part: but then I shall know even as I am known. And now there remain faith, hope, and charity, these three: but the greatest of these is charity. {144} Gospel. _St. Luke xviii._ 31-43. At that time: Jesus took unto him the twelve, and said to them: Behold we go up to Jerusalem, and all things shall be accomplished which were written by the prophets concerning the Son of Man. For he shall be delivered to the Gentiles, and shall be mocked, and scourged, and spit upon: and after they have scourged him, they will put him to death, and the third day he shall rise again. And they understood none of these things, and this word was hid from them, and they understood not the things that were said. Now it came to pass that when he drew nigh to Jericho, a certain blind man sat by the wayside, begging. And when he heard the multitude passing by, he asked what this meant. And they told him that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by. And he cried out, saying: Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me. And they that went before, rebuked him, that he should hold his peace. But he cried out much more: Son of David, have mercy on me. And Jesus stood and commanded him to be brought to him. And when he was come near, he asked him, saying: What wilt thou that I do to thee? But he said: Lord that I may see. And Jesus said to him: Receive thy sight: thy faith hath made thee whole. And immediately he saw, and followed him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God. ------------------- Sermon XLI. The Qualities Of Christian Charity. What a beautiful description it is, my dear brethren, which St. Paul gives us of the virtue of charity in the Epistle of to-day! If you have never read it or do not remember it, I would advise you to read it at once; and, indeed, nothing could be better than to commit it to memory. {145} Let us look just now at a part of it. "Charity," says the Apostle, "is patient, is kind; charity envieth not; dealeth not perversely; is not puffed up; is not ambitious; seeketh not her own; is not provoked to anger; thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things." Now, I say this is very beautiful, is it not? And perhaps it seems all the more beautiful because the picture which it gives us is not a very familiar one. I know we are apt to think about as well of ourselves as of almost any one of our acquaintance; but can we say to ourselves, on reading or hearing this description of charity, "That's me; that's just my character to a hair"? No; somehow or other, though we would like to put on the coat, it does not seem to fit. "Charity is patient, is kind." That is rather out of the way, to begin with, when we think how impatient and cross we are if anything goes wrong, if anybody stands in our way or interferes with us, or even ventures to differ from us in opinion. "Charity envieth not." Worse yet. Why, some people cannot even see their neighbor have a new dress or hat without at once making up their minds to take the shine out of that conceited thing. And if they hear it said that Miss So-and-So is good-looking they will take some opportunity to remark: "For the life of me, I can't make out what any one sees to admire in her." {146} Probably they might manage to see it if they would make a great effort; but how can they make the effort when no one seems to have any eye for their own good points, which ought to be so evident to all? And it is not the ladies only who have this weakness. You will hear something like this: "Oh! I consider him to be a much overrated man. I knew him when he was young, and he was nothing above the common. But some people certainly have luck." Or, if you do not hear it out loud, the grumbling is there all the same in the heart. Perhaps some praise has to be given, but it is very sparing; given with great appearance of careful judgment and a desire to keep closely to the truth. "Charity dealeth not perversely." How is this? Why, you will find Christians who would, as the saying goes, "cut off their nose to spite their face." They will even suffer themselves, if some one else can only be made to suffer too. But I shall not have time to make all the applications. As I said, you had better read the Epistle, then you can make them for yourselves. I wish, however, to call your attention before closing to one unpleasant circumstance. Is this charity, which St. Paul so highly praises and so beautifully describes, a sort of fancy and ornamental virtue, which is certainly very commendable, but which we can get along well enough without? Listen to a few other words which come a little before those I have read: "If I should have prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing." Notice, he does not say, "I am not much, or these things are not much good, without charity": no, without it "I am nothing"; a cipher, and a sham. Take this home and meditate on it. {147} Sermon XLII. Delay Of Repentance. _Be not deceived, God is not mocked; for what things a man shall sow, those also shall he reap._ --Galatians vi. 7, 8. "Never mind, I will repent some day and confess it all to the priest; then it will be as if it never happened." Sometimes, my dear brethren, when men have made up their minds to commit sin, or to go on in a course of sin, they are tempted to say some such words as these; or if they are not fallen so low as to _talk_ in this way, yet, if we may form a judgment of their thoughts by their actions, such are the thoughts of not a few. I propose, therefore, to say a few words this morning on the great folly of this way of speaking, thinking, and acting, and to show you what a false notion it rests upon. I will not stop to point out how uncertain that really is which is assumed as perfectly certain--namely, that an opportunity of going to confession will be granted to every one who acts in this way. A man who sins can never be sure that he will not be cut off in his sin. But I will take it for granted that the opportunity of making a confession is given; more than that, I will take it for granted that he makes a good confession and receives absolution as he promised himself. In such a case as this is it true that even then all will be just as if the sin had never been committed? {148} My dear brethren, to imagine this to be the case would be indeed a very great mistake. In order that you may see this I must recall to your recollection some well-known truths. In the beginning, God, having made man, placed him in a state of great happiness. He was without pain, sickness, anxiety, or death. How is it, then, that man finds himself in his actual condition? Why is it that man is subjected to so many hardships and miseries, obliged to toil for his daily bread, and, in the end, through anguish and suffering, give up that life which it has cost so much labor to preserve? Think, my dear brethren, of all the pains of mind and body which you have ever experienced, or which you have seen others experience; think of all the sufferings of which you have ever read, and ask yourselves the reason for all this vast mass of agony and anguish. That reason is given in one word. Of all the suffering that has ever been and that ever will be, sin is the cause. Directly or indirectly, mediately or immediately, every suffering finds in sin its origin. Now, I do not say that when we come to particular cases we can always point out precisely how and why _this_ suffering is connected with _that_ sin. God in his providence permits suffering to attend upon sin for many different reasons. Sometimes it is permitted as a warning not to sin in order that men of sense and understanding, seeing what sin costs, may avoid it. Sometimes suffering in this world is, I am afraid we must say, but a foretaste of eternal suffering in the next. {149} In some cases sufferings are sent to make us more like our Lord. But--and this is the special point I wish you to notice--suffering is very frequently sent by Almighty God as a punishment in this life for those sins the eternal punishment of which he has forgiven. This brings me back to the special point of this instruction. A man may go to confession, may even make a good confession and receive a good absolution--that is to say, he may receive through the merits of Christ the remission of the eternal punishment due to his sins, and yet things may be very far from being, as he promised himself, just as they were before. On the contrary, he may have a vast amount of punishment to undergo in time in consequence of that sin, which he would not have had if he had not committed that sin. This thought is very suitable for this season. Lent will begin next Wednesday. Its fasting and abstinence are enjoined by the church, among other reasons as a means of satisfying for the temporal punishment due to past sins. But, in order that this fasting and abstinence may be useful for this purpose, those who fast and abstain must be in the state of grace, because all their value as works of satisfaction is due to the indwelling grace of God. In order, then, that your fasting and abstinence may be profitable to your own souls, let me advise you to act like our wise forefathers acted, to come to confession at once in the beginning of Lent, and not to put it off with your Easter duty to the last moment. {150} Sermon XLIII. Lenten Obligations. Next Wednesday, my brethren, we enter, as of course you know, on the great and holy season of Lent. On that day, no doubt, as many of you as can will come to the church and receive on your foreheads the ashes which remind us of the penance to which these coming weeks are specially devoted. The church is generally full on Ash-Wednesday, and one would think, on seeing the crowds pressing forward to receive the ashes, that they were all determined to enter into the spirit of the church, and to keep Lent as it should be kept. Yet how many there are who go through this outward form, and make a great deal of it, and yet neglect all that is signified by it; who give a show indeed of penance, but bring forth none of its fruits! Some, perhaps, of the Ash-Wednesday penitents will not be seen again in the church till they come forward again on Good Friday to kiss the cross. Yet it is better to come to church, if only on Ash-Wednesday and Good Friday, than not at all; better to do some penance and show some love of God than to neglect these virtues altogether. But how much better still it would be to now thoroughly understand and seriously take to heart what God requires of us, especially in this holy time, and to make it the means, as it may be more than anything else, of our final salvation! {151} First, then, to thoroughly understand what we are now to do. Everything must be well understood before it can be well done, and the keeping of Lent is no exception to this general rule. Many people break the rules of Lent because they do not clearly understand them. Lent, then, my brethren, is not a time to be spent in penance altogether according to one's own devotion. Far from it; the duties to be performed in it are clearly and precisely laid down, and should be attended to very strictly. They are not many; they make no great demand on our time or strength; but the Christian who discharges them properly will make his Lent far better than one would who should neglect them and take any other practices, no matter how hard, in their place. It is better to keep the real rules or laws of Lent faithfully than to hear three Masses every day, and come to all the extra services, and give half one's goods to the poor, and yet neglect our regular duties. What, then, are these laws? The first is the Easter duty, which should be made before Easter, if possible, though the church indulgently extends the time several weeks after that festival. Make, then, this great duty, far the greatest of all the duties of a Christian, at once; it will be very easy for all of you who have just made the mission to do it now, and the longer you put it off the harder it will be. Make it, then, if possible, the first day it can be made--that is, next Sunday--and get it, if I may say so, off your mind. Do not fancy that, as you have so lately made the mission, the Easter duty is of little consequence. If you had made twenty missions during the past year, and any number of jubilees, the law of the Easter duty would bind you exactly as much as if you had neglected them all. It is like hearing Mass on Sunday; nobody is excused at all from Mass on Sunday because they have been to it through the week. {152} So this time, the great Sunday of the year, is set apart by the church for the precept of Holy Communion; it must be fulfilled at this time, no matter how often one has received outside of it. The second and only other real law of Lent is that relating to fasting and abstinence. If you attend carefully to the rules that have been read you will understand this well enough. But do not confuse fasting with abstinence; that is the most common mistake. People often say: "Oh! I have to work hard; I can eat meat if I like." That is a great error, and a very foolish one. Many are excused from fasting on one meal and a collation; few from abstinence on the days appointed. If you want to have a safe conscience in eating meat you should consult a confessor, unless seriously ill. Attend to these two things, then, and you will make your Lent as a Christian should. But, of course, you will also try to follow, to the best of your ability, the other devotional practices recommended by the church at this time. Come to daily Mass, and to the occasional services, and give alms according to your means. These practices, especially now, are of the greatest spiritual profit, and can not generally be neglected without spiritual danger. But remember that Easter duty and fasting, with abstinence, are the real laws. Obey these, at any rate, and then, so far as you are able, add the others beside. ------------------- {153} _First Sunday of Lent._ Epistle. 2 _Corinthians vi._ 1-10. Brethren: We do exhort you, that you receive not the grace of God in vain. For he saith: "In an accepted time have I heard thee; and in the day of salvation have I helped thee." Behold, now is the acceptable time: behold, now is the day of salvation. Giving no offence to any man, that our ministry be not blamed: but in all things let us exhibit ourselves as the ministers of God, in much patience, in tribulation, in necessities, in distresses, in stripes, in prisons, in seditions, in labors, in watchings, in fastings, in chastity, in knowledge, in long-suffering, in sweetness, in the Holy Ghost, in charity unfeigned, in the word ol truth, in the power of God; by the armor of justice on the right hand and on the left: through honor and dishonor: through infamy and good name: as seducers, and yet speaking truth: as unknown, and yet known: as dying, and behold we live: as chastised, and not killed: as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing: as needy, yet enriching many: as having nothing, and possessing all things. Gospel. _St. Matthew iv._ 1-11. At that time: Jesus was led by the spirit into the desert, to be tempted by the devil. And when he had fasted forty days and forty nights, he was afterwards hungry. And the tempter coming, said to him: If thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread. But he answered and said: It is written, "Man liveth not by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth from the mouth of God." {154} Then the devil took him up into the holy city, and set him upon the pinnacle of the temple, and said to him: If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down, for it is written: "That he hath given his angels charge over thee, and in their hands shall they bear thee up, lest perhaps thou hurt thy foot against a stone." Jesus said to him: It is written again: "Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." Again the devil took him up into a very high mountain, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them. And said unto him: All these will I give thee, if falling down thou wilt adore me. Then Jesus saith to him: Be gone, Satan, for it is written: "The Lord thy God shalt thou adore, and him only shalt thou serve." Then the devil left him: and behold, angels came and ministered to him. ------------------- Sermon XLIV. The Merit Of Fasting And Abstinence. _Lay not up to yourselves treasures on earth, where the rust and moth consume, and where, thieves break through and steal. But lay up to yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither the rust nor the moth doth consume and where thieves do not break through nor steal. For where thy treasure is, there is thy heart also._ --Gospel Of Ash-Wednesday. If any one of us, my brethren, should be asked what is the object of this holy season of Lent on which we are now entering, or what is the reason why it has been appointed, the answer would probably be that it is in order that we may do penance for our sins. Penance: punishment inflicted on ourselves in satisfaction for those offences for which we feel we have so imperfectly atoned, and to obtain from God those graces which we so greatly need: this, perhaps, is the idea uppermost in most people's minds when Lent comes round. {155} Well, this is no doubt a reason, and a good one, not only for what we have to do in Lent, but for a great deal more that we may do, not only now, but all through the year. Few even of those who lead good lives do penance enough for their sins, even as it is; almost all go before God with a large account unsettled in this matter. How much worse would it be if there was no Lent, if the church never insisted on our chastising ourselves in any way, and seemed to treat such chastisement as of no consequence! The very notion of it would drop from our thoughts, as it has indeed long ago from the minds of those who have separated from the church and ceased to possess the true faith. This is, then, a good reason for Lent; but there is another which we are not so apt to think of, and which, for this very reason, I would like to emphasize. This reason is the one suggested by the words of the Gospel of last Wednesday, which you have just heard: "Lay not up to yourselves treasures on earth; ... but lay up to yourselves treasures in heaven. ... For where thy treasure is, there is thy heart also." Brethren, we should have no trouble at all in getting to heaven if we only really wanted to get there. Of course in one way we do want to get to heaven; that is, we all want to save our souls from the eternal anguish and misery of hell, and we know there is nothing for us but heaven or hell in the end. But I am afraid that many Christians, especially when they have health, strength, and plenty of this world's goods, have really very little wish to give them up, in order to pass, even could they do so at once, to those joys which the heart of man cannot conceive. {156} No, their treasure is in this world; all their idea of happiness is founded on the pleasures which they have had, are having, or hope to have in it. Their treasure is here, and, as our Lord says, their heart is here too. I think, then, that this other great reason and object of Lent, of which I have just spoken, is that we may do something to change this state of things; that we may get our hearts off this world, and see our real treasure in heaven, get to know it and love it, and have our hearts there with it. We ought now not merely to stop for a while from worldly pleasures, but to try to cease loving them, and to care for something better. We must love and care for something; let us try now to get the right object for love. Now, what is this that we should love; what is our treasure in heaven? It is our Father who is in heaven, and who is heaven itself. Brethren, it is not so hard to love God as some people think. We can all try to do a little, at any rate; I mean to love God, not by keeping his commandments, but to love him in the same way as we love those things which are lovely and attractive here. Come to him now, this Lent; that, above all else, is what it was made for; come to church not only to hear a sermon, but to pray, to get near to God, and to bring him into your hearts. Shut the world out of your heart, that he may come in. Ask him to come to you and make his abode with you. Then, when he is really your treasure, he will draw you where he is; you will not have to try to get to heaven; you will go there of your own accord. To die to the world and live to God, this is the Christian's true life; and Lent was made to give this life to our souls. ------------------- {157} Sermon XLV. Difficulties Of Fasting. Brethren, another year has passed, and Lent has come around once more. I have no doubt that a great many of you wish that it had not; perhaps you would not be so very sorry if the church would have the goodness to do away with this tedious season altogether. Indeed, I imagine that to some people Lent is one of the greatest mysteries of our religion. And even if it is in some general way acknowledged as the proper thing in its due time, it never seems to come in just at the time that would be convenient. If it comes early, it is a very unpleasant interruption to the winter's pleasures and amusements; if it comes late, why could it not come earlier, so that we could get through and have done with it soon? All the grumbling in the world, however, will not alter the fact. We cannot get rid of Lent, and we cannot fix its time to suit us, even if there is any time which would seem suitable. It is possible, indeed, to free ourselves from its burdens; we may do so either by neglecting its obligations altogether, or by getting somehow or other dispensed from them, without putting anything else in their place. But, after all, if we do this, we shall hardly feel any more comfortable. The best plan is, since Lent is here whether we will or not, to face it boldly and cheerfully, and make the best of it that we can. {158} And, when we come to look at it, is it such a very terrible infliction? Do we not make rather too much fuss and complaint over what is not really such a very great penance? Let us look, then, and see what is required of us. The principal thing, of course, is the fasting, as we call it, on one meal. Now, if we actually were reduced to only one meal in the twenty-four hours, I confess that it would be pretty severe; but, you see, in point of fact, we have the collation, at which eight ounces, or half a pound, of solid food is allowed. Now that is as much as many people would take anyway at tea-time. And then you can have a cup of coffee or tea and a small piece of bread in the morning. So, when we come to sift the matter, the fact hardly amounts to more than this: that the breakfast is rather a light one. And then, for those who really have hard work, even what is left of the fast goes by the board altogether. Well, next there is the abstinence from flesh-meat. Some seem to think this dreadful. "Oh!" they will say, "I can't eat fish; it makes me sick." Indeed? Perhaps you are not very hungry, and do not need anything very much. When you are really hungry the fish will not taste so bad. But, then, who, except indeed the fisherman, wants you to eat fish? I do not think there is any law requiring it to be eaten; and if it has such a bad effect on you I would let it alone and try something else. And though fish is so uneatable, perhaps an oyster or two might now and then be worried down. {159} Now, after the fast and abstinence, what is left? Really nothing at all in the law of the church, at least in black and white. There is, however, a custom, having about the force of law, prohibiting such parties and theatre-going as would be allowable enough, at other times. But have not you had a pretty good chance for these amusements for the last few months? And, if you are in the habit of some indulgence of this kind, a little quiet at home might be agreeable by way of a change. But perhaps you do not like so much church-going. Well, this is not absolutely required of you. But it certainly is expected; and it will be well to cultivate a taste for it. Ought it to be such a great penance for a Christian to come and spend a little while in the presence of Him with whom he hopes to dwell for ever? I think, then, that if you will look at Lent in the right light it will not seem so very grievous. It may be even that you will feel that now is a time to be a little generous with our Lord; and, since he does not ask much, you may be disposed to give him a little more than he absolutely demands. ------------------- Sermon XLVI. Wasted Opportunities. _Brethren, we exhort you that you receive not the grace of God in vain. _ What is this receiving of God's grace in vain, my brethren, against which St. Paul warns us in these words of the Epistle of to-day? It is receiving it and making no use of it; receiving it only to waste it and throw it away. {160} We are all the time receiving graces from God. Every day, every hour he is giving them to us. For what is a grace? It is a help, a means to our salvation which comes from him. And these helps he gives us continually, by instructions, by admonitions, by good examples; by the evidences which he puts all around us of the shortness and uncertainty of life, of the instability of earthly riches and happiness, of the peace which virtue gives, of the misery which comes from sin. All these and countless other helps to lead us, almost to force us, into the way of his commandments are lavished on us incessantly. They come more or less to all men, but most of all to us children of his holy Catholic Church, who have the full light of his faith, the full teaching of his law. But more than all he himself is every day speaking in our hearts, inviting, urging, begging us to turn from mortal sin; or, if we have indeed done that, to rise higher, and serve him more perfectly. If we had listened to all these calls, if we had availed ourselves of all these helps, we should now be far advanced on the way of the saints; we should, like St. Stephen at his martyrdom, see heaven opened before us and our salvation morally secure. But we have not done that. We have been doing just what the Apostle warns us against; we have been receiving these graces in vain. We have received them, and it has been worse with us than if we had not; for we have received them, many of them at least, only to throw them away and trample them underfoot. {161} What would you think, my brethren, of a man who, being anxious to reach a distant country, which was his true home, and where were those whom he loved, and, having no means to do so of himself, should throw away with contempt the sums which from time to time might in charity be offered him to enable him to accomplish his desires, should throw them absolutely away, not even using them to supply his daily wants or to secure some passing pleasure? You would say that he was a madman or a fool; that he had not the gift of reason, which raises man above the brute. And yet this is what we have been doing; and even more than this. For there have been some, perhaps many, graces which God has given us which would even alone, if rightly used, have answered for all our needs. They would not have been mere contributions to our passage-money for heaven, but would have put us aboard the vessel, and made our reaching port little more than a question of time. But these, like the rest, are gone without being used; they are strewn on the road behind us, and we cannot turn back to pick them up. Such a great grace is the one which, in spite of our unworthiness, ingratitude, and folly, is now once more offered to us by our Father in heaven, who does not follow the rules by which an earthly benefactor would be guided. This season of Lent on which we are entering is one of the great helps, the great opportunities which he gives us to reach that country where he awaits our coming. One who spends even one Lent as it should be spent will be at its close well established in the way of solid virtue and peace, the way which leads certainly to the kingdom to which we all hope to go. {162} It is for this that Lent is given us, not merely for a season of penance and suffering, to be got through with somehow or other as best we can; it is for this reason also that the church to-day solemnly warns us to use it as it should be used. Listen, then, to her warning voice; listen out of love and gratitude to God; listen out of love and holy fear also for yourself; for it may be the last great grace that will ever be brought to your door. ------------------- {163} _Second Sunday of Lent._ Epistle. 1 _Thessalonians iv._ 1-7. Brethren: We pray and beseech you in the Lord Jesus, that as you have received from us, how you ought to walk, and to please God, so also you would walk, that you may abound the more. For you know what commandments I have given to you by the Lord Jesus. For this is the will of God, your sanctification; that you should abstain from fornication. That every one of you should know how to possess his vessel in sanctification and honor, not in the passion of lust, like the Gentiles, who know not God: and that no man overreach, nor deceive his brother in business: because the Lord is the avenger of all such things, as we have told you before, and have testified. For God hath not called us unto uncleanness, but unto sanctification in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. Matthew xvii._ 1-9. At that time: Jesus taketh unto him Peter and James, and John his brother, and bringeth them up into a high mountain apart. And he was transfigured before them. And his face did shine as the sun: and his garments became white as snow. And behold, there appeared to them Moses and Elias talking with him. And Peter answering, said to Jesus: Lord, it is good for us to be here: if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias. And as he was yet speaking, behold a bright cloud overshadowed them. {164} And behold, a voice out of the cloud, saying: This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased: hear ye him. And the disciples hearing, fell upon their face, and were very much afraid. And Jesus came and touched them, and said to them: Arise, and be not afraid. And when they lifted up their eyes they saw no man, but only Jesus. And as they came down from the mountain, Jesus charged them, saying: Tell the vision to no man, till the Son of Man be risen from the dead. ------------------- Sermon XLVII. The Joy Of Penance. _He was transfigured before them._ --Words from To-day's Gospel. At first sight, my dear brethren, it seems strange that just as we have entered upon this season of fasting and penance the church should have chosen for to-day's Gospel one of the few accounts which the Evangelists have given of the manifestation on earth of our Lord's glory and majesty. The Gospels, as you are aware, are mainly made up of the record of our Lord's words, actions, and sufferings; they tell us how the Son of God made man went about from place to place doing good, healing the sick, consoling the sorrowful, and in the end undergoing cruel sufferings and an ignominious death. There are but few instances recorded of his being glorified and honored with more than human glory and honor, and when such is the case no long and detailed description is given, the fact is barely mentioned, and the narrative passes on. {165} But to-day's Gospel forms an exception to this general rule. In it special pains have been taken by the Evangelists to give us in detail a description of the other side, so to speak, of our Lord's life. We are told that our Lord chose, out of the twelve, Peter, James, and John, and led them up into a high mountain, and was transfigured before them: so that his face did shine as the sun, and even his garments became shining and exceeding white as snow, "so as no fuller upon earth can make white." And then there appeared to them Elias with Moses talking with Jesus. And so astonished and impressed was Peter that he exclaimed: "Lord, it is good for us to be here: if thou wilt, let us make three tabernacles, one for thee, one for Moses, and one for Elias." Now, why has the church, by selecting the account of the Transfiguration at this season, turned our thoughts to what seems so inappropriate a subject? It would seem that it would have been better to have chosen those parts of the Gospel which treat of sin, of the judgment to come, of the punishments which await the impenitent sinner. Well, I do not know that I can tell you all the reasons why the church has made this choice, but I think I can give you one reason, and that is, that the church wished to encourage us and to animate us at this season by placing before us the glory which is in store for those who do penance and suffer here. In this life there is nothing so familiar to most of us as suffering in some form or other. Most of us are obliged by our circumstances to pass our days in exhausting toil and labor. Disease and anxiety and want and disappointment are to be met with on all sides, and there are but few who are free from all these evils. {166} And to all--even to those who are the most favored in this life--there is an hour coming which nothing can avert--the hour of death. This, as every one may see, is the present state of things. Moreover, our Lord, so far from encouraging us to expect freedom from suffering, insists continually upon its necessity. "Deny yourselves," "take up your cross daily," "blessed are the mourners," such are the words our Lord addresses to his disciples. And the church, that this teaching of our Lord may not be a mere speculation, brings it down into every day practical life by commanding us at this season to fast and abstain. From all this the necessity of suffering is evident. But however true this is, suffering is not an end in itself; it is only a means to an end; it is but a road to everlasting joy and glory. God permits and commands sufferings in order that he may give to those who endure their sufferings well an abundant reward. As St. Paul says: "That which is at present momentary and light of our tribulation worketh for us above measure exceedingly an eternal weight of glory." And it is in order that we may ever remember this that the church calls upon us to consider the manifestation of the glory of our Lord and Master, to whom we must be made conformable in all things--in suffering in this life, in glory in the next. ------------------- {167} Sermon XLVIII. Christian Perfection Not Impossible. _This is the will of God, your sanctification._ --Epistle of the Day. What, my dear brethren, is the will or intention of Almighty God and of the Catholic Church, which is directed by his Holy Spirit, in establishing for us this fast of Lent, and commanding us to observe it? What is the end which he meant that every Christian should attain by keeping it, and which makes the opportunity now offered to us such a great grace as we were warned last week that it is? The words of St. Paul to-day answer these questions for us. "The will of God," he says, his intention for us at all times indeed, but specially now, "is our sanctification." But what is our sanctification? It is the making us saints. That, then, is what Lent ought to do for us. It ought to make us saints; God and his church mean that it should. "Well," perhaps you may say, "if that is the end for which Lent is appointed, it seems to me that the end is seldom attained. For my part, I am afraid I shall never be a saint; saints are few and far between. It will take more than one Lent to make a saint out of such a sinner as I am." If, then, you say this, I must confess that there is a good deal of truth in it. We must all feel and acknowledge that. Any one who could feel sure now that when Easter comes he will be fit to be canonized must either be very proud and presumptuous, and far from real sanctity, or have some special revelation from God, to which, I think, none of us will pretend. {168} But for all that it is true that Lent ought to sanctify us; it ought to make us saints, only we need not take the word in quite so high a sense. Though we may hope for the greatest possible gifts now, we cannot confidently expect them. There is, however, a sanctification that we ought to expect from this Lent, and what is it? It is what I fear many of you, even though tolerably good Christians, do not expect. What do I mean by a tolerably good Christian? I mean, of course, one who expects to make his Easter duty. One who does not expect and mean to do that can hardly be called a tolerably good Christian; it would be more nearly right to call him an intolerably bad one. Well, then, you who are good Christians expect to make your Easter duty; so far, so good. But it is not far enough. For what is it that is meant, perhaps, by that? Is it not merely to make up your mind to confess your sins and to keep for a few days as you ought to be, and then be pretty much as you were before? Has not that been the experience of the past Easter duties of not a few of you, my brethren; and may not the same be said of the missions you have attended, and the other great graces you have received from time to time in your life? You came up to the surface, as a fish jumps out of the water for a moment, and then down you went again. {169} But that is not enough. That is not sanctification, and it is not the will or intention of God. What you ought to expect is much more than that. What, then, is it? It is simply this: that when you have made your Easter duty you are going to stay all your life where it will put you. It is that the habits of mortal sin which you may then have to confess will be gone for good; that those impure thoughts, words, and actions will have stopped for ever; that the shameful drunkenness, and all the sins which came from it, will be things only of the past; that you will never again wilfully neglect Holy Mass; that in every way you will really live as you ought, all the time in the state of grace, in peace with God and men, and in readiness to die at any time, even without the sacraments, if such should be God's will; that, in short, you will be truly converted to him once for all. That is the sanctification which past Lents have not brought you, but which this one should. Do not, I beg you, think it is impossible, for it is not only possible but easy. Do not make your Easter duty the highest point and the end of your Christian life; it should be only the beginning of it. What a consolation it will be to you, if in your future life you can look back on this Lent and say, "That was the time when I really began to be a good Christian; since then I have not had much on my conscience; I have kept in the state of grace. I made really good and strong resolutions then, and I have been faithful to them ever since." There are those now, plenty of them, who can say this of some past Lent. Let it be now your turn to say it of this one. It is not a matter of luck and chance; if you will, this grace of a lasting conversion from sin is now offered to each and every one of you. It is yours to a certainty, if you will take the trouble to secure it; for it is the will of God. ------------------- {170} Sermon XLIX. _The Divine Presence In Our Churches. _ _Lord, it is good for us to be here._ --St. Matthew. xvii. 4. The Gospel of to-day tells us of the wonderful Transfiguration of our Lord upon the mountain in the sight of his Apostles Peter, James, and John. "His face did shine as the sun, and his garments became white as snow." And Peter, wrapt in wonder, yet conscious of the privilege of being present at such a time, exclaimed: "Lord, it is good for us to be here." Jesus has withdrawn his visible presence from us. We cannot, like St. Peter and St. John, behold him with our bodily eyes, nor with our ears can we hear him speaking the words of life. It is better for us that it should be so. In our present sinful and imperfect state we could not bear the splendors of his glorified humanity. When from out the bright cloud which overshadowed him the disciples heard the voice of God proclaiming, "This is my beloved Son," "they fell upon their faces, and were very much afraid." The sight of all this glory, and the knowledge that they were in the presence of Almighty God himself, filled them with fear. So, too, would it be with us now if Jesus were to show himself to us as he now is in heaven. At the sight of his majesty and glory we, too, should fall upon our faces with fear and trembling. {171} Now, our dear Lord, knowing this weakness of ours, does not withdraw his presence from us, for he has promised to be with us, even till the end of the world; but he hides his glory from us under the humble appearance of bread and wine. Beneath these outward forms he remains continually in our churches, there in the tabernacle, by day and night, claiming our adoration and our love. In Holy Mass he is daily raised aloft by the hands of the priest, offering himself to God the Father for the sins of the world. In the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament he is lifted up to bless his faithful ones. And God still speaks to us by the voice and teaching of the church as truly as he spoke to the disciples upon the holy mountain, saying: "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased: hear ye him." We can still see our Lord, yet only through the cloud which overshadows him--that is, by the eyes of faith. Yet he is none the less really present in the tabernacle upon the altar than he was upon Mount Thabor on the day of his Transfiguration. When, therefore, we come into his sacred presence, when we enter the church and see the little lamp burning before the altar to tell us that he is there, our sentiments should be those of St. Peter at the Transfiguration: "Lord, it is good for us to be here." It is good for us to often visit him in the Blessed Sacrament; it is good for us to often receive his Benediction; it is good for us, nay, necessary for us, to assist at Holy Mass when the church bids us do so; above all it is good for us, above all it is necessary for us, to receive him in Holy Communion, and especially now at this time for the fulfilment of the Easter duty. Jesus is present in the Blessed Sacrament only for our own good, for the good of our souls. When, therefore, we see this great goodness of our Lord towards us, how can we be so heedless of our own good as to turn away from him? {172} And when you come before the Blessed Sacrament, remember that you are in God's presence. Do not forget to bend your knee in adoration. Do not take advantage of his mercy in hiding his glory from you by forgetting that he is really here, by spending the whole time of Mass with roving eyes and thoughts. Fix your attention upon the altar where he is, and offer him the best homage that your heart can give. It will be good for you to be here, if you have the same sentiments at Mass which the disciples had at the Transfiguration. You should be filled with a holy fear lest your idle thoughts at this holy time should one day be reckoned against you. For now he veils himself from you in mercy and love, but one day he will appear to you in far more dazzling brightness than he ever manifested on earth. Oh! then, despise not his presence here, that when at last you stand before him he may judge you worthy to enjoy his presence for ever. ------------------- {173} _Third Sunday of Lent._ Epistle. _Ephesians v._ 1-9. Brethren: Be ye followers of God, as most dear children. And walk in love as Christ also hath loved us, and hath delivered himself for us an oblation and a sacrifice to God for an odor of sweetness. But fornication and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not so much as be named among you, as becometh saints: nor obscenity, nor foolish talking, nor scurrility, which is to no purpose: but rather giving of thanks. For know ye this, and understand that no fornicator, nor unclean, nor covetous person which is a serving of idols hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God. Let no man deceive you with vain words. For because of these things cometh the anger of God upon the children of unbelief. Be ye not therefore partakers with them. For you were heretofore darkness, but now light in the Lord. Walk ye as children of the light: for the fruit of the light is in all goodness, and justice, and truth. Gospel. _St. Luke xi._ 14-28. At that time: Jesus was casting out a devil, and the same was dumb; and when he had cast out the devil, the dumb spoke; and the multitude admired: but some of them said: He casteth out devils in Beelzebub, the prince of the devils. And others tempting, asked of him a sign from heaven. But he, seeing their thoughts, said to them: Every kingdom divided against itself shall be brought to desolation, and a house upon a house shall fall. And if Satan also be divided against himself, how shall his kingdom stand? because you say, that in Beelzebub I cast out devils. {174} Now if I cast out devils in Beelzebub, in whom do your children cast them out? Therefore they shall be your judges. But if I, in the finger of God, cast out devils, doubtless the kingdom of God is come upon you. When a strong man armed keepeth his court, those things which he possesseth are in peace. But if a stronger than he come upon him and overcome him, he will take away all his armor wherein he trusted, and will distribute his spoils. He that is not with me, is against me: and he that gathereth not with me, scattereth. When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through places without water, seeking rest: and not finding, he saith: I will return into my house whence I came out. And when he is come, he findeth it swept and garnished. Then he goeth and taketh with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and entering in they dwell there. And the last state of that man becometh worse than the first. And it came to pass, as he spoke these things, a certain woman from the crowd lifting up her voice, said to him: Blessed is the womb that bore thee, and the paps that gave thee suck. But he said: Yea, rather, blessed are they who hear the word of God and keep it. ------------------- Sermon L. Immodest Language. How pertinent to our own times are the words of St. Paul in the Epistle of to-day, addressed nineteen centuries ago to the Christians of Ephesus: "But all uncleanness, let it not be so much as named among you, as becometh saints. ... For know ye this and understand that no unclean person hath inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God." {175} There is no vice, my brethren, more common among men at the present day in all classes of society, from the professional man to the day-laborer, among the rich and the poor, the old and the young, than that of obscene or immodest conversation. Among the better educated this poison of impurity is clothed in language which serves to veil its disgusting nudity, and thus the more securely to insinuate itself and to deceive the unwary; while among the less educated it is oftener expressed in words that reveal its horrid filthiness and shock common decency. Listen to the conversation of almost any chance gathering of young men, and you will soon hear the double-meaning joke, the attempt of some one to be witty, which serves as much to expose the shallowness of his pate as the corruption and rottenness of his miserable heart. Holy Scripture says that "out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh." How true this is! But if one were to use this criterion in judging the thoughts that fill the hearts of many amongst us, how debased and pitiable must be their condition! And how shocking it is, my dear brethren, to meet a young man whose dress and manner at first give evidence of respectability and good breeding, but who, when an immodest allusion is made or an impure joke uttered, is the first to shout with laughter! Such a one is well described by our Blessed Lord as "a whited sepulchre? full of dead men's bones." {176} And yet these whited sepulchres are not very rare in the community. You meet them in every walk of life--in the counting-room and in the factory, at the "respectable" club-room as well as in the grog-shop, and alas! must we say it, among Catholics as well as among non-Catholics. Yes, among Catholics, who have been elevated to a supernatural state through the merits and sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ; whose hearts have been sealed by the grace of the Holy Spirit, and on whose tongue the Body and Blood of our Lord has often been placed--even these have dared to cherish in their hearts and express with their tongues thoughts and sentiments that would shock the moral sense even of the unregenerate. Are they laboring under the incredible and awful delusion that they commit no great sin when they entertain or give expression to such thoughts? Do they think that they escape mortal sin when their impurity is expressed in the form of a joke or a pun, or when they by a laugh countenance and encourage the like impurity in others? Ah! my dear brethren, it is to be feared that too many consciences have been lulled to sleep by this cunning device of the devil. The first introduction to sin for many a one has been the listening with pleasure to the double-meaning word uttered, perhaps, by a companion, or while in the company of others. He was then put on trial not by the devil alone, but by the one also who uttered it. But the blush of modesty which rose instinctively to his cheek from a pure heart was by an effort suppressed through human respect, and the voice of conscience, that told him to administer a rebuke to the minister of Satan or abandon his company at once, was hushed into silence, and the demon of impurity from that moment took possession. {177} Take warning, then, my dear brethren, from the words of St. Paul, and never countenance by a laugh or in any other way any offence against holy purity, in whatsoever form it may be expressed; "for know ye that no unclean person hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God." ------------------- Sermon LI. Honorary Church-members. _He who is not with me is against me_. --Luke xi. 23. Societies in our day, brethren, have become a great moral force, the very best means of promoting and spreading any great cause. Men recognize this fact, and so combine together, that by unity of purpose they may better advance the principles they desire to support. Many of these societies are made up of two distinct classes--the active members, who are the bone and sinew, the life of the institution, and the honorary members, who take no personal interest in the management or working of the society, but who, nevertheless, are good enough, or interested enough, to advance the cause they honor by the support of their name. You and I, brethren, belong to a society, the Catholic Church, which embraces the whole world. We have in view one great object--the salvation of souls, the spread of the kingdom of Jesus Christ among men. But this society of ours, a real, living, organic institution, differs from most others in this: that it does not need the support of _honorary_ members; neither will it approve their existence in its bosom. {178} No, the church would have all her members living, active, earnest supporters of her principles, and from them all she requires a pledge that they will keep her laws, advance her ends, and fight her battles for the kingdom she was established to uphold. She will welcome no mere spectators to her ranks, and as for neutral ground, she recognizes none; for those who are not with her are against her. And yet there are many who call themselves Christians, _would-be honorary_ members of the Catholic Church, who do not even realize what the word Christian means; who seem to forget that to be a Christian imposes the obligation of being at war with all that is anti-Christian. An honorary membership for such Christians is very convenient; a membership that would allow them to be on good terms with Christ and Satan. The fasting and praying, the vigils and good works, the real brunt of the battle they would leave to the active members, while they would look on with an encouraging smile of approval. Ah! brethren, learn this lesson once for all and well: between Christ and the world there can be no compromise. He who is not with me is against me. There is no neutral ground, for the moment we desert the Christian rank and file we give the hand of fellowship to the enemy. We cannot serve two masters well, and in the Catholic Church there is no membership worthy the name that is not an active, complete membership. The drones of the hive may nourish and thrive for a time, but let them remember they run the awful risk of final destruction. {179} The question I would have you ask yourselves today, and meditate upon during this holy season, is this: Are you active, living members of the church, that mystical body of which Jesus Christ is the head and the Holy Ghost the life-giving principle, or are you simply _would-be honorary_ members? Have you at heart the interests of God's holy church; are her sorrows, her wants, her trials yours? Are the sacraments she offers you the source and support of your life? If so, you have reason to thank God. Or are you standing afar off ready to give an approving nod when the world smiles, or slink off like a coward when the world frowns? Are the laws of the church irksome to you and so avoided? If this be the case, you are nothing but dead limbs, and liable to be cut off without a moment's warning from the living body, for dead members are against, not with, the parent stem. Would-be honorary members of the Catholic Church, beware of the error of trying to give one hand to God and the other to the devil; beware of the fallacy of thinking that because you are outwardly connected with the church you cannot be lost--that hell was never intended for Catholics; that, somehow or other, you will come out all right in the end. That is what Judas thought when with his sin-stained lips he kissed his Lord whom he had so lately sold to the enemy. Have you still the faith, then beware lest your want of charity may bring on a want of faith. Have you still a conscience, beware lest your frequent attempts to stifle it may extinguish it altogether. If there be a spark of it left I beg of you stir it up. Be in earnest, and at least let not this Lent pass without a good confession and communion, the only condition on which you can become active members of God's holy church. Put your heart in the work and you will be happier for it here and certainly happier hereafter. ------------------- {180} Sermon LII. Half-Hearted Christians. _He that is not with me is against me._ --Gospel Of The Day. These words, my dear brethren, like many others spoken by our Blessed Lord, may be interpreted in various ways. They may be understood to mean that he who is not with Christ, by being united to his true flock, who does not belong to the one church which he has founded, is injuring the cause of Christ, is persecuting and hampering his church in its warfare against its enemies; or, in other words, that Protestants and heretics in general, zealous Christians though they may seem to be, are really hurting Christianity about as much as they help it, if not more. And it is plain enough to us that this is true. If there had never been any heresies and schisms in the church, we cannot doubt that there would have been now few nations not Christian. But this, true though it may be, seems to have little practical bearing for us. We are not heretics or schismatics, and I hope that we have no inclination to be so. Still we must remember that bad Catholics do about as much harm to the work of Christ and his church in the world as heretics. In fact, there would never have been any heretics had there not been bad Catholics to begin with. {181} But, after all, it does not seem that our Lord is speaking so much of heretics, or of bad Catholics, when he says: "He that is not with me is against me." For he goes on to tell us that "when the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through places without water, seeking rest; and not finding, he saith, I will return to my house whence I came out; and when he is come, he findeth it swept and garnished. Then he goeth, and taketh with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and entering in they dwell there; and the last state of that man becomes worse than the first." The meaning of this is plain enough. It is that a man cannot give up a bad life, and then remain betwixt and between, neither bad nor good. His soul cannot stay empty, swept, and garnished. He must keep the love of God in it; he must have good thoughts and do good works, or the devil will come back, take possession of the empty soul, and make it worse than it was before. So this gives a new sense to the words, "He that is not with me is against me." He that is not a real good Christian, trying to live for the glory of God, and to do the work for which God has put him in the world, will be a bad one before long, if he is not already. We cannot lie low and shirk the duties which belong to us as Christians and as Catholics. We must be God's servants, and live in such a way as to be known as such, or we shall begin again to serve his enemy. Let us take an instance, and you will see well enough what I mean. A young man or woman has been going with bad company, who, though perhaps they call themselves Catholics, are a disgrace to the name, and has joined with them in all their vile conversations and sinful actions. {182} Now, too many of those who have been living in this way seem to think that after their confession and communion they can go back to this company and still avoid remark; that nobody will have occasion to say that they are pious, or notice any change in their life; that they can keep all right in God's sight, and also in that of their bad companions; that they can avoid doing any harm, and still do no good. Let such remember these words: "He that is not with me is against me." If you want to stay in the grace of God, you must hate sin, and love virtue; and if you really do this your life and conversation will show that such is the case. You must be a friend of Christ and an enemy of the devil and of all his works, and not only be willing but proud to be known as such; if you will not do this our Lord will not have you or keep you. Choose, then, which side you will take; do not fancy that you can take neither. If you try to steer a middle course, and live an empty and unprofitable life, neither one thing nor the other, you will soon slip back just where you were before. ------------------- {183} _Fourth Sunday of Lent._ Epistle. _Galatians iv._ 22-31. Brethren: It is written that Abraham had two sons: the one by a bond woman, and the other by a free-woman: but he that was by the bond-woman was born according to the flesh: but he by the free-woman was by the promise. Which things are said by an allegory: for these are the two testaments: the one indeed on Mount Sina which bringeth forth unto bondage, which is Agar: for Sina is a mountain in Arabia, which hath an affinity to that which now is Jerusalem, and is in bondage with her children. But that Jerusalem which is above, is free: which is our mother. For it is written: "Rejoice, thou barren, that bearest not: break forth and cry out, thou that travailest not; for many are the children of the desolate, more than of her that hath a husband"; now we, brethren, as Isaac was, are the children of promise. But as then he, that was born according to the flesh, persecuted him that was according to the spirit: so also now. But what saith the Scripture? "Cast out the bond woman and her son: for the son of the bond-woman shall not be heir with the son of the free-woman." Therefore, brethren, we are not the children of the bond-woman, but of the free: by the freedom wherewith Christ has made us free. Gospel. _St. John vi._ 1-15. At that time: Jesus went over the sea of Galilee, which is that of Tiberias: and a great multitude followed him, because they saw the miracles which he did on them that were infirm. And Jesus went up into a mountain, and there he sat with his disciples. {184} Now the pasch, the festival day of the Jews, was near at hand. When Jesus therefore had lifted up his eyes, and seen that a very great multitude cometh to him, he said to Philip: Whence shall we buy bread that these may eat? And this he said to try him, for he himself knew what he would do. Philip answered him: Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one may take a little. One of his disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, saith to him: There is a boy here that hath five barley loaves, and two fishes; but what are these among so many? Then Jesus said: Make the men sit down. Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, in number about five thousand. And Jesus took the loaves: and when he had given thanks he distributed to them that were sat down. In like manner also of the fishes as much as they would. And when they were filled, he said to his disciples: Gather up the fragments that remain, lest they be lost. So they gathered up, and filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves, which remained over and above to them that had eaten. Then those men, when they had seen what a miracle Jesus had done, said: This is the prophet indeed that is to come into the world. When Jesus, therefore, perceived that they would come and take him by force and make him king, he fled again into the mountain himself alone. ------------------- Sermon LIII. The Happiness Of True Penance. _Rejoice Jerusalem_. --Introit of the Mass for the Day. This is called "Lætare, or rejoicing Sunday." It may surprise you, dear brethren, to be told that this is a day of rejoicing; you will be amazed, no doubt, that, in the midst of the rigorous Lenten fast, when men should bewail their sins and do penance for them, and sounds of mirth and joy are hushed, the church should bid us rejoice. {185} Yet thus she does to-day. In mid-Lent even she would have her children rejoice, would have them forget for the moment penance and turn their hearts to thoughts of gladness, that, by so doing, she may teach them that the rigors of this season, the self-denial and curbing of the flesh she imposes on us, is undergone that we may realize more fully the spirit of her teaching--that we may, in truth, preserve, or get back if we have lost it, that interior joy, that spiritual jubilation which is the portion of every one who serves Christ as he should be served. Our religion is one of joy, because we are Christ's and he is ours; and what more can we ask, or what greater can be bestowed upon us, than the having of Christ; Christ, at once perfect man and true God; Christ, whose life is the model of our lives, whose grace is the source of all joy; Christ, to have whom is to have a brother, and, at the same time, the eternal God; the God by whose word were made all things that are, who knows no limit to his power, who has in himself all perfections that man can desire or conceive of; a brother--a man like ourselves, with a human heart like our own, with affections like those of other men; a brother burning with tender love for us, knowing our weakness, knowing our wants and ready to succor us; a man who was himself tempted, who has himself suffered the miseries of this life, who, in a word, was made like to us in all save sin. This is whom we have when we have Christ, and should we not rejoice at having such a one? {186} We should and do rejoice; our hearts are always full of gladness when we are in God's grace, and Christ is ours and we are his; and this is what the church wishes for all her children--the friendship and the love of God. She ever has Christ herself, and so is never sad; though she may mourn with him suffering, still there is joy behind all her sorrow. If she puts on sombre garments, if she calls man to penance, if she fasts and covers her head with ashes, she is still glad in the depths of her heart. She is calling you and me to share the gladness, to get it back if we have lost it by mortal sin; she is bidding you and me to keep that gladness by chastising our bodies; she is warning us that we may lose God's grace, as, alas! too many before us have lost it, unless we are vigilant. Dear brethren, listen to the church's voice to-day; come, all of you, come and share her joy. If you are not in God's grace do not let another day go by without making your peace with God. Oh! how much you are losing, and for what? For some trifling satisfaction which cannot bring true happiness; some mean gratification of your lower nature; for sin you are letting slip by the offer of God's friendship and the joy of a good conscience. Do you want to die as you are living? If you do not, repent of your sins to-day; before you leave this church promise God that you will sin no more; that you will be in fact what you are in name--a Christian. ------------------- {187} Sermon LIV. Liberty Of Spirit. _By the freedom wherewith Christ has made us free._ These, my dear brethren, are the concluding words of the Epistle read at Mass to-day. They ought to be of unusual interest to us, for they speak of a matter which we all care very much about; which some care so much about that they are willing to fight for it, and to die for its sake. If you have listened to these words of St. Paul, which I have just read, you know what this is of which I speak, and for which we all care so much. It is freedom or, as we often call it, liberty. Many, as I just said, will even die, if need be, rather than abandon it; and indeed thousands, nay millions, have actually done so. Man feels that he must have it. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness he claims as his right. Especially do people nowadays ask for liberty, and insist on having it. The child is no sooner out of his mother's arms than he wants and tries in all things to have his own way. Obedience is a lesson that he seldom willingly learns. He thinks that when he is a man he can do as he pleases; and he does not see why he should not even now. Sometimes he succeeds in having his own way, in spite of his parents; he runs away from school and, when a little older, from church; he passes his life among such companions as he chooses, who help him to get the liberty which they think they have themselves got, by defying all the laws of God and of man. {188} But is this really liberty which these foolish children, and young men and women more foolish than children, think they have got by trampling on all law? No; a thousand times no! It is to true liberty only as the shadow to the substance, as they find to their cost before they have travelled very far on this road. They have but escaped from a light and easy yoke to take on their necks one far heavier and more grievous, and which becomes more and more so every day. They have left the service of the kind and good Master to whom they belonged and entered into that of a hard and cruel tyrant instead. He has filled them with base and beastly passions, and made them slaves to these passions. They are given over, body and soul, to impurity, gluttony, or drunkenness, or it may be to a mean and miserable greed for money. At last, perhaps, they try to turn back and shake themselves free from these accursed lusts, which have fastened on them, and are draining the very life-blood from their souls; but it seems that they cannot do so. They set out to do as they pleased, and how has it ended? In their being bound, hand and foot, in the slavery of sin. But what was their mistake? Were they altogether wrong in wishing for liberty? Is the desire for freedom, which is implanted in us, all a delusion? Are we never to do as we desire, but always to have a restraint and a yoke upon us? No, my brethren, the idea of liberty is not a mistake. We are right in wishing for liberty, hoping for it, and trying to secure it in the right way. But the mistake these foolish people of whom I have spoken make is in going the wrong way in the search for it: in looking for it in the wrong place. {189} Where, then, is liberty to be found? I will tell you; and you may be surprised at what I say, for it does not sound as if it could be true; but it is true, nevertheless. True liberty, then, is in the service of God. Those who serve God best are the freest men on earth. But how can this be? I answer, It can and must be very easily and very plainly. For those who serve God best of all--that is, the saints in heaven--always do just what they like, and enjoy doing it most perfectly. They have got rid of all the hindrances that, more or less, prevent every one here below from doing what he wishes. And, of course, those who try to walk in the path of the saints here on earth also have much of this freedom. The more they learn to do God's will the more they love it; and so they are always doing more and more what they like, and more and more easily all the time; and that is just what liberty is: to do what you like, and to do it without pain or difficulty. The servants of God, then, have their liberty, because they have got free from sin, which is the only obstacle to it. And this freedom from sin is the gift of Christ, it is the fruit of his Passion; it is, then, the liberty which he has given us. It is ours if we wish it. Try, then, my dear brethren, in this holy season of Lent, when his graces are so abundantly poured out, to gain that freedom which they will surely give us, that "freedom wherewith. Christ has made us free." ------------------- {190} Sermon LV. The Lust Of The Eyes. _Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them. For the things that are done by them in secret, it is a shame even to speak of._ --Ephesians v. 11, 12. Some weeks ago, my dear brethren, we had occasion to speak of the horrible and filthy vice of impurity, which is every day dragging into hell thousands of souls with the mark of the cross of Christ on them, and washed in vain with his Precious Blood. As was said then, many Christians do not seem to realize the enormity of sins against the Sixth Commandment--at least those of thought and of the tongue; to which may be added those coming from the use of the other senses, especially that of sight. An immodest imagination or desire, wilfully entertained or enjoyed, is a mortal sin, and gives the soul so harboring it instantly into the power of the devil. Let us hope that no one having the Catholic faith will doubt this, or think it too strict a doctrine; for it is the unanimous consent of all the teaching authority in the church from the beginning, amply supported also by Holy Scripture. What shall we say, then, of wilful and deliberate gazing at immodest pictures, or of reading matter directly calculated to inflame impure passions, and certain to have its effect? Now, I hardly need to say that a city like this is full of these temptations coming through the eyes into the heart. The good and pure instinctively avoid them, and scarcely know that they exist; accustomed to watch the slightest movements of their souls to evil, and instantly to repress them, they shrink with horror from those filthy words and pictures on which others eagerly gaze. {191} They know that, as the Apostle says, it is a shame to speak of these things, a greater shame to write or to read of them, a greater shame yet to expose them to sight, to incite temptation by them, and thus to destroy the souls for which Christ died. I say that the good and pure are not likely to be caught in this net of Satan; by this I mean those who have been warned of the evil, who understand its danger, and from well-formed habits of virtue set themselves resolutely against it. But there are others who are good and pure--in their baptismal innocence, perhaps; young, at any rate, and unused to sin, at least of this kind--who are not forewarned and forearmed like those of maturer years, who, seeing bad pictures in papers sold even at stores otherwise of good repute, and kept, perhaps, by Catholics, do not fully understand how bad they are, and are led to look at them with pleasure, to learn evil which they knew not of, and thus to contract habits of sin which they will never overcome. Now, what does our Lord say of those who thus put temptation in the way of the young and innocent? You all know his words: "He that shall scandalize one of these little ones who believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone should be hanged about his neck, and that he should be drowned in the depth of the sea." Strong words these, but they are those of the Divine Wisdom, and beyond correction by human lips. Yes, it is better to die, better even to die in the state of sin, than to add such a sin as this to our number. {192} Let us beware, then, not in any way, however indirect, to give sanction or encouragement to this work of the devil in our midst. "Have no fellowship with these works of darkness, but rather reprove them." Do not buy or even take up for a moment the indecent papers or books now unfortunately so common among us; still more, do not sell them; do not allow them to be in the house; do not suffer your children to look at or read them; do not frequent places where they are to be had. Set your faces resolutely, for the honor of God and the Catholic name, as well as for your own souls sake, against this plague of immodest literature, which has assumed such fearful proportions and become so bold and unblushing in these days in which we live. Think nothing to be light or of little moment in this matter; mortal sin is much easier in it than you may believe. ------------------- {193} _Passion Sunday._ Epistle. _Hebrews ix._ 11-15. Brethren: Christ, being come a high-priest of the good things to come, by a greater and more perfect tabernacle not made with hands, that is, not of this creation: neither by the blood of goats, nor of calves, but by his own blood, entered once into the Holies, having obtained eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and of oxen, and the ashes of a heifer being sprinkled, sanctify such as are defiled, to the cleansing of the flesh: how much more shall the blood of Christ, who by the Holy Ghost offered himself unspotted unto God, cleanse our conscience from dead works, to serve the living God? And therefore he is the mediator of the new testament: that by means of his death, for the redemption of those transgressions, which were under the former testament, they that are called may receive the promise of eternal inheritance in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. John viii._ 46-59. At that time: Jesus said to the multitude of the Jews: Which of you shall convince me of sin? If I say the truth to you, why do you not believe me? He that is of God, heareth the words of God. Therefore you hear them not, because you are not of God. The Jews, therefore, answered and said to him: Do we not say well that thou art a Samaritan, and hast a devil? Jesus answered: I have not a devil; but I honor my Father, and you have dishonored me. But I seek not my own glory; there is one that seeketh and judgeth. Amen, amen, I say to you: if any man keep my word, he shall not see death for ever. {194} The Jews therefore said: Now we know that thou hast a devil. Abraham is dead, and the prophets; and thou sayest: If any man keep my word, he shall not taste death for ever. Art thou greater than our father Abraham, who is dead? And the prophets are dead. Whom dost thou make thyself? Jesus answered: If I glorify myself, my glory is nothing. It is my Father that glorifieth me, of whom you say that he is your God. And you have not known him, but I know him. And if I shall say that I know him not, I shall be like to you, a liar. But I do know him, and do keep his word. Abraham your father rejoiced that he might see my day; he saw it, and was glad. The Jews therefore said to him: Thou art not yet fifty years old, and hast thou seen Abraham? Jesus said to them: Amen, amen, I say to you, before Abraham was made, I am. They took up stones therefore to cast at him. But Jesus hid himself, and went out of the temple. ------------------- Sermon LVI. The Precious Blood. _The Blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin._ --1 Epistle St. John i. 7. We all know, my dear brethren, that when a man is born into the world he is born _unclean_ before God. He is then _so_ unclean that he is not fit to associate with the sons of God and heirs of the kingdom of heaven. He is then so unclean that he can never be anything but an outcast from God until he is made clean. {195} Is there any way in which he can be made clean? Yes, for when he is baptized he is made a new creature; he is cleansed from the stain of original sin, made a child of God and heir of the kingdom of heaven. He is then so pure and holy that if he die immediately he will go, to a certainty, straight to heaven. For baptism applies the Blood of Christ to his soul, and he is become truly clean. But suppose he does not die immediately after baptism, how is it with him then? If he keep his baptismal innocence, so far as never to commit a mortal sin, he still has a right to go to heaven. He can then demand of God permission to enter heaven. Can he, however, demand this permission to enter heaven immediately after his death if he has committed only venial sin? That depends entirely upon his contrition at the moment of death. If he is not so sorry for all his sins that his contrition is [not] perfect, then he can't enter heaven immediately, but must go to purgatory to be made perfectly pure, so that he can be taken into heaven. I have said that baptism applies the Blood of Christ to the soul and makes man pure and innocent. Now, baptism is a sacrament. It is the first one and is necessary to salvation. Without it no man can enter heaven, nor even purgatory, for the purgatorial state is the first and lowest state of blessed and holy souls who must go to heaven in the end. But the blood of Christ is applied to the soul of man in other ways, although baptism must come in in the first place. In what other ways is the Blood of Christ applied: First, by the Sacrifice of the Mass. For by the Mass we repair our sins, get grace to keep from sin, and make our purgatory shorter in consequence. He who hears Mass daily makes the best prayer that a man can make, and he is more certain to have his prayer answered. He also helps the living and the dead, and brings down upon himself and his own special graces from God. {196} Secondly, the Blood of Christ is applied to our souls by the Sacrament of Penance. Men defile their souls by sin, by _mortal_ sin after baptism. He who receives the Sacrament of Penance worthily--that is, with true sorrow for all mortal sin, with a firm determination to lead a good life and repair the wrong he has done--that man receives again the grace of God that restores his soul to eternal life. Thirdly, in Holy Communion we receive the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ in a hidden manner, but in deed and in truth. The consecrated Host is the eternal and ever-living God himself. You know, my dear brethren, the strength of this divine food. How it gives new energy to the soul, destroys the power of concupiscence, banishes, or at least weakens, temptation, always giving us the grace to hold our own against the world, the flesh, and the devil. _And there are Catholics who refuse to make this Communion once a year!_ But there is one thing that ought to be said here. A Catholic ought never to consider as useless, or as almost useless, any one of the sacraments. This too many do as regards confession. They underrate it. They think, therefore, it is no good unless they receive Communion every time they go to confession. Now this is a grave error. One is _not_ obliged to go to Communion every time he goes to confession. Those who cannot go to Mass nor Communion, on account of their business or employment or work keeping them away, can at least go to confession very often during the year. All such an one has to do is to prepare himself carefully, step into the rector's house, make his confession, and go on to work again. If he but make an arrangement with some one of the priests he can always be heard at once. Frequent confession is a wonderful help to a good life and a happy death. ------------------- {197} Sermon LVII. Christ's Passion. _Which of you shall convince me of sin?_ --John viii. 46. To-day, dear friends, is Passion Sunday, and our long Lenten pilgrimage is nearing its end. Heretofore our thoughts have been on ourselves, our own shortcomings, our own sins. Now we stand, as it were, on the hill overlooking the Holy City, and see before us, as a map unrolled, the scene of our Redeemer's agony: Bethany, the olive-garden of Gethsemani, and, further on, the barren mount of Calvary, with its three crosses standing forth, black and cruel, against the fair blue sky. Now our thoughts turn from ourselves to our Lord. We have seen what the effect of sin has been on us. Now we look and see, and our shame should deepen as we see, what sorrow and tears and agony it has brought on the eternal Son of God. To-day the cross is veiled, the pictures are shrouded in mourning, the "Gloria" ceases to be sung. So our sins covered our dying Lord as with a garment, and sorrow chokes the voice of holy church, fills her heart to overflowing, and stills all her songs of praise. {198} What is this veil which obscures the cross of Jesus Christ and makes his Passion of no effect? O dear brethren! is it not our sins? What platted the crown of thorns, and drove those sharp spikes deep into his sacred head? Our selfish pride. What sent those nails through his hands and feet, fixing them to the tree of shame? Our wicked deeds and our wanderings from the path of duty. What parched his tongue with such burning thirst? Our shameless indulgence in drink. What pointed the spear of the impious Roman soldier, and hurled it deep into the Sacred Heart, whence issued the red torrent of the Precious Blood? Our inordinate appetites and sinful lusts. As often as we sin we crucify our dearest Lord afresh. "Which of you shall convince me of sin?" What more could I have done for my vineyard which I have not done? I came down from heaven; took upon myself the form of a servant, the likeness of sinful flesh; set you a perfect example how you should walk; was led as a lamb to the slaughter; was scourged, spit upon, mangled, crucified; what could I have done more? Which of you shall convince me of sin? Which of _you_, my brethren? How many graces and blessings do you not owe to that crucified Lord? In how many sore temptations have you not been defended and strengthened? In how many bitter sorrows have you not been comforted? From how many shameful falls have you not been raised up? O Christian soul! for whom Christ died, look upon that bleeding, suffering, dying Saviour, and, if nothing else will move you, let those ghastly wounds, which your sins have made, plead with you. Acknowledge your transgressions: abase yourself in the very dust. {199} Let that sacred Passion plead with you, that infinite love plead with you, that Precious Blood plead with you, those last tender words plead with you, and teach you, for their sake and your soul's sake, to love the Lord more dearly, to dread sin more effectually, and never, as long as you live, to add to that heavy burden by any wicked deed of yours. So shall, a few days hence, the veil be lifted from the cross, and our sorrow be turned to joy, for when the Lord of Glory shall arise we too shall arise with him, and reign with him in glory for evermore. ------------------- Sermon LVIII. Dangerous Companionship. _Walk circumspectly; not as unwise, but as wise._ --Ephesians. v. 15-16. To-day, my dear brethren, I propose to make a few remarks on the dangerous occasions of impurity, so common in these times. The danger of which I wish specially to speak is that which comes from the familiar acquaintance which now exists to such a great extent, and is taken so much as a matter of course, between young persons of different sexes. This undue familiarity is too common everywhere in this country; and more than anywhere else in a city like that in which we live. Young women here with us, even though they be Catholics, and good enough Catholics in some respects, seem to forget, or rather never to begin to realize, the laws of decorum and modesty which well-instructed persons, even though not professing to be specially religious, have hitherto rightly taken for granted. {200} To take a flagrant instance. A priest, being a man educated according to the rules of respectable society, is unspeakably surprised when he for the first time hears some young woman, apparently of a careful conscience, ask him if it is a sin to flirt. For what is this which is called flirting? It is simply deliberately and wantonly acting in a way to attract the attention of particular persons of the opposite sex, to make signals which are to be understood as marks of preference for, or of desire of acquaintance with, some young man or men whom she may chance to see on the street. A sin to flirt! How can you ask such a question? Why, outwardly and at the first appearance, the act is not very different from that of an abandoned woman seeking to attract those whom she thinks will notice her. The intention, of course, in your minds is often comparatively harmless, it is true; but by outward standards the act is simply disreputable. Furthermore, it shows a feeling which any lady, really worthy of the name, would hesitate to show even to one whose character she well knew to be good, and who had for a long time given to her respectful and proper attentions. A woman or girl who flirts seems to be, if she is not in reality, lost to all sense of decency; and those are almost as much so who shamelessly walk at night up and down the avenues in the hope of attracting attention. This seeking to form unknown acquaintances of the opposite sex or to attract special attention among them is, then, a thing which no Catholic girl should think of, if she has any sense of shame. But when such acquaintances are formed by an introduction in itself proper, they should be very carefully considered. {201} For a young woman to make one of the other sex her friend or familiar companion, as she well may one of her own, is a thing which should be unheard of. She should have but one such friend, and he should be one who has acted honorably to her by proposing to her to take the honorable part of her husband, and whom she has before God and in her conscience felt to be worthy, and accepted by a binding engagement. Before that, and to all other men, politeness with proper and modest reserve should be the constant rule, affection and familiarity out of the question. And yet we find girls keeping company, as it is called, and that without any sort of serious guarantee of the purposes of the other party, not only with one after another, but even with more than one at once. For the reasons, plain enough, on which these directions rest, promiscuous assemblies of both sexes, such as those to be found at certain gatherings, now unfortunately so popular, are full of danger, and had far better in all cases be avoided. A freedom of manners prevails in them--to say nothing of direct temptations to the senses--and an ease of making acquaintance, which opens a free door to sin. I do not wish to be too severe, but, as a rule, I do say, leave such places alone. Young women, respect yourselves; demand the respect of others. There is the moral in a nutshell. ------------------- {202} _Palm Sunday._ Epistle. _Philippians ii._ 5-11. Brethren: Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery himself to be equal with God: but debased himself, taking the form of a servant, being made to the likeness of men, and in shape found as a man. He humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath exalted him, and hath given him a name which is above every name: that in the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those that are in heaven, on earth, and in hell. And that every tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of God the Father. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxvii._ 62-66. And the next day, which followed the day of preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees came together to Pilate, saying: Sir, we have remembered that that seducer said, while he was yet alive: After three days I will rise again. Command therefore the sepulchre to be guarded until the third day: lest his disciples come and steal him away, and say to the people, He is risen from the dead: so the last error shall be worse than the first. Pilate said to them: You have a guard; go, guard it as you know. And they departing, made the sepulchre sure with guards, sealing the stone. ------------------ {203} Sermon LIX. Hardness Of Heart. _To-day if you shall hear his voice, harden not your hearts. _ These words, my dear brethren, are taken from the beginning of the office recited by the clergy on this and the following days, up to Holy Thursday. They entreat us not to let this time, precious above all others, go by without making the use of it which our Lord means that we should make; not to let him show his love for us without giving him love in return. "Harden not your hearts." How is it that we harden our hearts? It is by putting off our repentance; by clinging to the world and its pleasures, to the gratification of our sinful passions, and waiting for some time to come when it will be more convenient to give them up, or when we shall feel more strongly moved to do so. We think that this time will surely come, that the stream of God's graces will be uninterrupted, and that when necessity urges we can avail ourselves of the one that happens to be then within our reach as easily as we could have done of the many that went by long ago. But, my brethren, this is a great and a terrible mistake. It may be, indeed, that God in his goodness and mercy has many graces yet in store for us equal in themselves to those which we have had; but if we have despised and neglected the past ones they will not be the same for us as those were which went before, {204} A word of warning, a single prayer, the sight of the crucifix or of our Blessed Mother, a pious picture, an Agnus Dei, is enough to move the innocent soul of a child to the love of God; the most powerful mission-sermon often fails to make any impression on one who has spent his life in sin. It is not the grace that is wanting on God's part. No, he is there in his power; his arm is not shortened; he is still mighty to save. But his voice seems to the deaf ear of the sinner faint and indistinct; his message is the same old story. Yes, it is the same old story; it must be the same, for there is but one. There is but one name under heaven whereby we can be saved, only one Gospel which we can preach, and the sinner has heard it so often with indifference that its interest is gone. Then--most dangerous delusion of all--he comforts himself with the hope that at least he will die in the grace of God; that somehow or other he will, as he passes from life to death, be brought from death to life. He forgets that the sacraments were not given to give repentance to the sinner; no, they have for their object to give pardon and grace to those who have repented. Do you think it is of the slightest use to anoint with oil the senses of a man who lies unconscious, and who has not, while he had the use of his mind, turned really and truly away in his heart from his sinful life? The priest does it, indeed, in hopes that he may have repented; but how faint is that hope for those who have suddenly been stricken down! And even if there is more time; even if some sort of confession can be made, is it so sure that the hardened heart, which has all its life loved and clung to its sins, will now love God and hate sin? God's mercy is great, it is true; he may now give extraordinary graces, but he is not bound to do so; and if the ordinary ones have failed before they may also fail now. {205} Yes, my brethren, now is the time--a better time than your last hour. Now in this Passion season the Precious Blood of Christ is flowing more freely for you than you can expect ever to find it again. Listen to his voice now; do not wait till it becomes fainter. If you have not spent Lent well so far, come now and make the most of the help so abundantly given you in these holy days. Harden not your hearts any longer; it is a dangerous game to play. ------------------- Sermon LX. Spirit Of Holy Week. _Think diligently upon him that endured such opposition from sinners against himself._ --Hebrews. xii. 3. The week which we this Sunday enter upon, my dear brethren, is called Holy Week; and of all the many sacred seasons which the church has set apart, this is by far the most solemn and sacred. Everything which it is within the power of external rites and ceremonies to do has been done by the church in these services, in order to bring home to her children the great lesson which this holy season should teach. And while it is true that the church has not made attendance obligatory under pain of mortal sin, yet it would argue a very poor and ungrateful spirit, and one but little in accordance with that of the church, if any one should without good reason neglect to be present. {206} Now, what is the truth which these services have it for their object to impress upon our minds? No other than that fundamental, distinctive truth--the Passion and death of Christ, its reason and effects. The church this week excludes from commemoration everything else, and applies herself exclusively to tracing the steps of her Lord and Founder from his entry into Jerusalem in the midst of acclamations and rejoicings, to the entombment of his dead and blood-stained body in the sepulchre of Joseph of Arimathea. Now, every one must have, necessarily has, in these events the greatest interest--an interest which surpasses every other. And, first, as to those who are in the habit of going frequently to the sacraments, who understand their great value, and find in these means of grace their chief consolation in the midst of the troubles and cares which surround them. For these the commemoration of the Passion and death of Christ can not but be profitable. The author of "The Following of Christ" tells us that we ought not to consider so much the gift of the lover as the love of the giver. And we all know that we esteem the trifling present made by a dear friend more than much more costly things which we have ourselves bought or earned. Now, the sacraments are not merely inestimable treasures in themselves; they are also tokens and pledges of the love of Him who instituted them, bought by him at the cost of his own most Precious Blood, given to us to show us his love to us. Every time a man goes to confession, every time he receives Holy Communion, he is receiving that which was instituted and established and bestowed upon him out of love; and if he wishes to know how great that love was he ought to have a lively sense of what it cost our Lord to merit those graces for us--namely, his bitter Passion and death. {207} But there are many who neglect the sacraments, who come to them but seldom, perhaps only to their Easter Communion; perhaps not even to that. What is to be thought of those who act in this way? Certainly, however smart and keen and intelligent they may be, or fancy themselves to be, in lower matters which are nearer to them and fall beneath their senses--in money-getting, in trade, in art, in literature--such men show but little sense and understanding about things which are of real importance and value. In what way may these duller and obtuser minds learn to appreciate these higher things? Certainly the price given for a thing by a prudent man is a good means of learning what it is worth. Now, if those who neglect the sacraments, who make but little of them, would during this week apply themselves to the consideration of the price paid by our Lord for those sacraments, I have but little doubt that they would be led to form a truer notion of their value and importance. I wish I could conclude without alluding to another class which, though I trust it is not numerous, yet does exist--I mean those who do not neglect the sacraments, but those who do worse: who profane them. Those who make bad confessions, who conceal mortal sins, who have no sorrow for their sins and no purpose of amendment, who make the infinite mercy and goodness of God a reason and pretext for wallowing in vice and sin--what shall be said of these? {208} We know that our Lord is reigning now gloriously in heaven; that nothing which we can do can cause him loss or pain; yet it is also true that those who act in this way do all that lies in their power to trample under foot that Precious Blood which was shed for them. But while there is life there is hope, and if even those would devote this week to meditation on the Passion of our Lord, they might form a just estimate of what their souls cost our Lord, and turn to him while there is yet time. ------------------- {209} _Easter Sunday._ Epistle. 1 _Corinthians v._ 7, 8. Brethren: Purge out the old leaven, that you may be a new mass, as you are unleavened. For Christ, our pasch, is sacrificed. Therefore let us feast, not with the old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth. Gospel. _St. Mark xvi._ 1-7. At that time: Mary Magdalen, and Mary the mother of James and Salome, bought sweet spices, that coming they might anoint Jesus. And very early in the morning, the first day of the week, they come to the sepulchre, the sun being now risen. And they said one to another: Who shall roll us back the stone from the door of the sepulchre? And looking, they saw the stone rolled back, for it was very great. And entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed with a white robe: and they were astonished. And he said to them: Be not affrighted; ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified: he is risen, he is not here; behold the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he goeth before you into Galilee; there you shall see him as he told you. ------------------- {210} Sermon LXI. Easter Joy. _Hæc dies, quam fecit Dominus: Exultemus, et lætemur in ea._ --Psalm cxvii. 24. [USCCB: Psalm cxviii. 24.] "_This is the day which the Lord hath made: Let us be glad and rejoice in it._" So sings the Psalmist. So sings the church today in Holy Mass, and every Christian heart beats with the response: "Let us be glad and rejoice." A happy Easter, then, to you all, my dear brethren! A happy Easter to the old, to whom, in the natural course of things, many returns of this blessed day cannot come! A happy Easter to the young, rejoicing in all the freshness and vigor of youth, and confidently looking forward to many renewals of Easter joys! A happy Easter to the rich, upon whom God has bestowed an abundance of worldly goods! And a thrice happy Easter to God's own special friends, the poor! Thus holy church bids all be glad and rejoice, for to-day Christ is risen, the Saviour of us all. The joy of Easter, my dear brethren, like that of Christmas, is all-pervading. We feel it in the air we breathe, we see it in the sparkling eye and radiant countenance of the child. The quick and hearty salutation of our friends, "A happy Easter to you!" increases our own joy, for we perceive that all about us are sharers with us in this great gift of the risen Christ. {211} But the joy of Easter differs from that of Christmas in this: that the latter brings to us the glad tidings of the coming of the true King, the strong and valiant leader of the mighty host of Israel, and our hearts leap with joy as we go forth, with buoyant step and strengthened arm, and fight the great battle of life. Easter joy is the joy of victory, for our gallant Leader, the strong Son of God, has gone before; he has overcome the enemy, and death is swallowed up in victory. Yes, Christ has fought the battle and won. But there remains for us a battle to be fought, but not an uncertain one; for we have received virtue from the victory of Christ, and by following him faithfully, by keeping our eye fixed steadily on the banner of Christ--the banner of the cross--our victory, too, is certain. This, then, is why Easter time gladdens the heart of every true Christian, for it brings with it the assured hope of final victory over sin, which is the sting of death, by a glorious resurrection. But, my dear brethren, mid all these rejoicings may there not be some poor soul among us who does not participate in the joys of Easter time? Some soul for which Christ on Good Friday poured forth the last drop of his Sacred Blood, but which to-day finds itself estranged, nay, even in a hostile attitude towards its only true friend? Oh! would to God there were not even one such ungrateful soul in the whole world. But, alas! I fear there are many upon whom our loving Saviour, the risen Christ, must look this day as his declared enemies; some wretched souls over whom hangs the thick, black cloud of mortal sin, unrepented and unforgiven, and through which the bright rays of God's infinite love cannot penetrate. Yet even these need not despair; the joys of Easter time may still be theirs, for the same loving and sword-pierced Heart of Jesus is still ready to be reconciled with them. {212} Oh! if there be such a one present here this morning let him take courage, come at once to the tribunal of penance, become one of the friends of the risen Christ, and share with us the joys of Easter. And those who have been, but are no longer, strangers to God's grace, persevere, I exhort you, during the short space of this life in the friendship of our crucified Lord, and yours, too, will, like his, be a glorious resurrection. Let us, then, my dear brethren, on this happy Easter day elevate our hearts to God in humble thanksgiving for all his benefits, and let us unite with the holy church in the prayer of the office for to-day. God! who, through thine only-begotten Son, hast on this day overcome death and opened unto us the gate of everlasting life, we humbly beseech thee that, as by thy special grace preventing us, thou dost put into our minds good desires, so by thy continued help we may bring the same to good effect. Through the same our Lord Jesus Christ, thy Son, who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, one God, world without end. Amen. ------------------- Sermon LXII. Easter And The Love Of God. _This is the day which the Lord hath made: let us be glad and rejoice therein._ --Psalm. cxvii. 24. [USCCB: Psalm cxviii. 24.] {213} Familiar words these, my brethren, and for ever associated in our minds with this greatest of all Christian festivals. Frequently on this day and through its octave does the church repeat them to us; they sound now continually in our ears. And no doubt they find some echo in our hearts. Yes, we are glad, we do rejoice; surely no one who can call himself a Christian could hear unmoved the outburst of our triumph and exultation yesterday as the "Gloria in Excelsis" was intoned in the Mass, telling us that the lion of Juda has conquered, that God has arisen and that his enemies are scattered, that he has put death and hell under his feet. For the moment at least we would say with St. Paul: "O death! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting? Thanks be to God, who hath given us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." But as the newness, the freshness of the Easter joy and triumph passes away, does not another feeling come and mingle with it? A feeling of awe, almost of dread, comes upon us, like that terror which came upon the guards at the sepulchre as they saw the angel who rolled away the stone, of whom St. Matthew says that his countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow; like that fear which came even on the holy women as they saw the two angels in shining apparel standing at the empty tomb; and upon the Apostles themselves when Jesus stood in their midst soon after; for the evangelist tells us that they were troubled and frighted, in spite of his words giving them peace and telling them not to be afraid. Indeed, I think there was no one of those who saw our risen Lord, except his glorious and Blessed Mother, whose love was so perfect that it quite cast out this fear. {214} And still more is it in our poor and imperfect hearts; we cannot shake it off. How many are there of us, unless, indeed, those innocent ones who have not yet known what sin is, who, if this were really and truly the morning of the resurrection, and the risen one could be seen by those who should seek him, would arise gladly and run to meet him, and fall in loving adoration at his feet? If we can in our inmost heart feel that we would, we have reason indeed to be glad and rejoice to-day. But to feel so there must be something in us besides that thrill of triumph and of victory which overpowers us as the splendor of the resurrection first breaks upon our souls. There must be a true, fervent, and deep love of the God who to-day comes so near to us; a hatred from the bottom of our hearts and souls of all that in the least degree separates us from him; there must be, beside faith, also hope and charity, such as the saints have had--that hope which knows that he loves us and has forgiven us, that charity which would make us die sooner than offend him again. And these we have not because of our sins. Yes, it is sin which casts the shadow on our Easter; it is the love and affection for it which still remains in us; it is that compromising spirit which is even at our best times holding us back, keeping us from fully loving, trusting, and giving ourselves up to God, for fear that we might lose something by doing so; it is this that makes us afraid to approach him and to share in his joy. As for mortal sin, that, of course, takes the happiness of Easter away altogether; to one who is in its darkness the thought of meeting God brings, and can bring, no thought of joy. But even venial sin brings its dread with it,too. {215} And what is the remedy for this dread? It is very simple. It is only to try now to begin to love with our whole hearts him who has loved us, and given his life for us; whose delight is to be with us and to have us come to him; to keep nothing back from him--in short, to live here in our feeble measure the life we hope to live in heaven. This is the way, and the only way, for us to enter now as we would wish into the joy of our Lord. ------------------- Sermon LXIII. The Triumph Of Christ. _This is the day which the Lord hath made: let us rejoice and be glad in it. _ --Psalm. cxvii. 24. [USCCB: Psalm cxviii. 24.] The festival of Easter is, above all things, my brethren, a day of joy. Just as we love the sunshine more after days of cloud and tempest, so also is our joy keener and more intense when it follows sorrows. It is for this reason that the joy of Easter is greater than that of Christmas, or of any other season of the Christian year. For we have been passing through a time of sorrow. We have beheld in Passion-tide our dearest Lord in suffering. We have beheld him as the King of Martyrs, worthy of the title, because his pains were so far in excess of anything that mere man has ever suffered or could ever suffer. We have seen him in his agony in the garden, when the sins of the whole world and of all time were presented to his vision and pressed heavily upon him, filling his Sacred Heart with deepest grief. {216} We have called to mind his betrayal by his trusted friend and disciple; his arraignment before impious and unjust judges; his cruel condemnation and death. Despised and rejected by his own chosen people whom he had come to save, a robber and murderer preferred before him, we have beheld him abandoned to the tortures of the heathen soldiers, scourged, and spit upon, and crowned with thorns, and finally led forth to die a malefactor's death upon the cross. And worse than all is the thought that he was forsaken by those whom he held most dear, those whom he had chosen to be his special friends and disciples, and who had been his constant companions in his public ministry. They all forsook him and fled, leaving him to die. Then we have followed him along the sorrowful way of the cross; we have meditated deeply upon his three last hours of agony; we have almost heard his deep, expiring groan as he rendered up his soul to the hands of his Father. Now, if we have thus learnt well the lessons of Passion-tide, the joy of Easter will come to us in all its fulness. If we have pondered well the depth of humiliation to which our Lord subjected himself in his death upon the cross, we shall well realize the greatness of his triumph to-day. The joy that filled the hearts of the Apostles, of the holy women, and, above all, the Immaculate Heart of our Blessed Lady when they knew that the Lord had risen indeed will be ours to-day, and we shall cry out in the words which the church puts into our mouths: "This is the day which the Lord hath made: let us rejoice and be glad in it": for "the Lord is my strength and my praise, and is become my salvation." Therefore, to-day the voice of praise and of salvation "is in the dwellings of the just throughout the world." {217} "For the right hand of the Lord hath wrought strength"; the right hand of the Lord--that is, his almighty power--has raised up Jesus from the dead. He has risen glorious and triumphant, and in his glory and triumph all mankind are sharers. For by his resurrection he has overcome death and opened unto us the gates of everlasting life. He has triumphed over sin, which brought death into the world, and which was the cause of his death. His resurrection, therefore, means our deliverance from sin and death, and is a pledge to us of that life which he will give to his faithful ones. Surely, then, we can have no greater cause for rejoicing than this. Pray, then, my brethren, that your hearts may be filled with the true spirit of Easter joy. "Ask and you shall receive, that your joy may be full; and your joy no man shall take from you." ------------------- {218} _Low Sunday._ Epistle. 1 _St. John v._ 4-10. Dearly beloved: Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world; and this is the victory which overcometh the world, our faith. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God? This is he that came by water and blood, Jesus Christ; not in water only, but in water and blood. And it is the spirit that testifieth, that Christ is the truth. For there are three that give testimony in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost. And these three are one. And there are three that give testimony on earth: the spirit, the water, and the blood, and these three are one. If we receive the testimony of men, the testimony of God is greater. For this is the testimony of God, which is greater, because he hath testified of his Son. He that believeth in the Son of God, hath the testimony of God in himself. Gospel. _St. John xx._ 19-31. At that time: When it was late that same day, being the first day of the week, and the doors were shut, where the disciples were gathered together for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst, and said to them: Peace be to you. And when he had said this, he showed them his hands, and his side. The disciples therefore were glad when they saw the Lord. And he said to them again: Peace be to you. As the Father hath sent me, I also send you. When he had said this he breathed on them; and he said to them: Receive ye the Holy Ghost. Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose you shall retain, they are retained. {219} Now Thomas, one of the twelve, who is called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came. The other disciples therefore said to him: We have seen the Lord. But he said to them: Unless I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe. And after eight days his disciples were again within, and Thomas with them. Jesus cometh, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said: Peace be to you. Then he saith to Thomas: Put in thy finger hither, and see my hands; and bring hither thy hand, and put it into my side; and be not incredulous, but faithful. Thomas answered, and said to him: My Lord, and my God. Jesus saith to him: Because thou hast seen me, Thomas, thou hast believed; blessed are they that have not seen, and have believed. Many other signs also did Jesus in the sight of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God: and that believing you may have life in his name. ------------------- Sermon LXIV. How To Use God's Gifts. _If ye be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God._ --Epistle to Colossians. iii. 1. The feast of to-day, my dear brethren, brings to a close the solemnities of Easter; and it was the practice, in the early ages of the church, for those who had been baptized on Holy Saturday to put off, on this day, the white garments which they then assumed, and to resume again their accustomed occupation. {220} The white garments were but an external sign of that internal purity and cleanliness which the soul received in the waters of Holy Baptism, and the soul, thus purified and strengthened by God's grace, went boldly forth to the battle-field of life, to meet again its three great and deadly enemies: the world, the flesh, and the devil. So we, who, during the penitential season just closed, have faithfully observed the laws of holy church, and, by fasting, have brought the flesh under subjection to the spirit; by foregoing our accustomed pleasures and amusements have brought the world under our feet, and, by a good confession and Communion, have again enlisted in the ranks of Christ, and thus declared ourselves eternal enemies of sin and the devil, start again to-day with renewed strength to follow our Leader, the risen Christ, to certain victory. St. Paul, in the Epistle from which the text is taken, reminds the Christians at Colossa that, if they be risen with Christ, their thoughts must now be turned to where Christ is--sitting at the right hand of God. "Mind the things that are above," he continues, "not the things that are upon the earth; for you are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God." O brethren! would that Catholics did but realize this great truth! Would that their thoughts and affections were directed towards their eternal destiny! Absorbed, as they are, in the sordid pursuits of this life, they cannot be too often reminded that we are here only on trial. An almighty and merciful God has, with a lavish hand, surrounded us with the means of gratifying our reasonable desires and appetites. But, alas! the very gifts of God serve not unfrequently to make us forget the Giver. {221} Look around you and see what is the object for which this noisy, bustling world is striving; what the end for which most men seem to exist. The fact is, brethren, that Mammon, the heathen god of riches, has disputed Christ's sovereignty over the hearts of men, and has actually erected his altar in those very hearts where the grace of Christ once reigned. The only conception men seem to have of this present life is this: that it is a place where we are to strive to become wealthy in the shortest possible time, without being over scrupulous as to the means, and then to retire from active pursuits, the better to indulge our sensual appetites. They thus invert the order of Divine Providence, and make an end of that which was intended only as a means to enable us to attain our eternal destiny. Everything in this world, my dear brethren, was intended by God for our happiness here and as a pledge of an eternal and infinitely greater happiness hereafter. It is a great mistake to suppose that Christianity requires us to ignore these wonderful gifts of a kind Providence, and to forego all the pleasures of this life. No, not at all! Indeed, we are absolutely obliged to make use of many of them if we would maintain our very existence. God acts towards us as a kind and affectionate father acts towards his child. The father knows that his child loves him, and he feels confident that the little presents he makes the child from time to time will only serve to strengthen the fond affection which nature has implanted between them. {222} But what would you think if those gifts of the kind father served only to estrange from him the heart of his child? You would, undoubtedly, say that such a state of things was unnatural. Well, so it is, my dear brethren, with us, who, after all, are only children of an older growth. God, our Creator and Father, has given us life and all the things in this beautiful universe to enjoy. And all he asks in return is our love--our hearts. But, remember, he is not satisfied with an imperfect and partial love. He is a jealous God, and will allow no one to share our hearts with him. So that when men fix their affections on the things of this world without referring them to God, and use these gifts without regard to the Giver, they too are acting in an unnatural or, at least, in an irrational manner. Give your whole heart to God, brethren, and then you will enjoy his gifts, and, as St. Paul says, "When Christ shall appear, who is your life, then you also shall appear with him in glory." ------------------- Sermon LXV. The Christian's Peace. _Jesus came, and stood in the midst, and said to them: Peace be to you. And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples, therefore, were glad when they saw the Lord. He said therefore to them again: Peace be to you._ --Gospel of the Day. He stood in their midst. To-day he stands in the midst of us and utters the self-same words, "Peace be unto you." And he shows us his hands and his side, and we are glad. And again he says, "Peace be unto you." {223} To be at peace with the world is the aim of many men. But to have one's life run smoothly on, to be hindered neither here nor there, to be always in the sunshine and never in the shadow, may bring us peace and gladness, but not the peace and gladness that our Lord would impart. For after his words of gentle salutation he showed them his hands and his side impressed with the wound-prints of his Passion, as if to say: "The peace which I wish you is that which comes after strife, conflict, and sorrow; that peace which is the rest and the reward for labor and endurance." Yes, dear friends, ours is to strive, to contend with self, with a nature that is fallen, with a proneness to evil, with desires that are selfish and carnal. To contend with the world, to disavow its principles, not to listen to its temptations; to realize and to confess that pleasure, success, ease, money, fame, are not the objects for which a noble soul must seek, but that God is our true end, and that mortification and self-denial, the cross, are the true means to arrive at that end, the way to come to union with God. To be at peace with the world; yes, I admit that it is a thing to be desired, but only so that we are at peace with Almighty God, too. And how is that peace gained? Only by the keeping of his law. At peace with the world, because the world cannot disturb one at peace with God; this is the Christian's life. But so great a boon is not gained without a strife, as the joy of Easter is not till the sorrow of the Passion has passed. Our duty, then, dear brethren, is to strive, and to keep the law of God, that first law written on our hearts, that law which he has given to us both by his words and by his life on earth, and which he still repeats to us through his holy church. {224} Foolish, indeed, are we above all others if our Easter joy is only that of the worldling, and our peace that which the world gives. This is not the peace that comes after looking at his hands and his side; not the joy that the disciples felt as they gazed on the risen Saviour, who stands to-day here in our midst, as he did among those his first followers, and says to us, as he said to them, "Peace be to you." We may have that peace, my brethren, if we are willing to obtain it and to deserve it as they did. We shall have it descend upon us, if, while we gaze at his hands and his side, we are conscious that we have indeed shared his Passion and cross. May indeed be ours this peace of God, which shall keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. ------------------- Sermon LXVI. True And Lasting Peace. _Jesus came and stood in the midst, and said to them: "Peace be to you."_ --From the Gospel of the Sunday. Peace be to you! This is our Lord's Easter blessing, thrice repeated in the Gospel of to-day; and a blessing which all his faithful may obtain. And it is the one for which we are continually seeking, each in his own way, but which we can find nowhere but with him who to-day offers it to us. {225} What is this peace? Is it freedom from conflict? Is the Christian to have no battle to fight, no enemy to overcome? No, surely our Lord does not promise us such an easy road to heaven as this. "Do not think," he says, "that I came to send peace upon earth; I came not to send peace, but the sword." We must make up our minds, for the sake of the Christian faith, to sustain not only the assaults of the devil and of our own evil passions, but also the opposition of those who should be our friends. "A man's enemies," our Saviour goes on to say, "shall be they of his own household." In this sense, then, we cannot hope for peace in this world. No, our lot must be, if we have really enlisted in Christ's army, that of all soldiers: war, and its turmoil. As St. Paul says it was for himself so must it be for us: "combats without, fears within." Struggles for our temporal life; for God has said to Adam our father, and in him to us his children: "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread "; struggles far more terrible and momentous for our spiritual life, against flesh and blood, also "against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness," in which a single slip may mean eternal ruin, a single wound instant death. Where, then, is our peace in this inevitable war, this contest which demands all the energies of our body and soul? What peace can we have while its issue is still uncertain, its events yet unknown? Surely it seems a mockery for our Lord to say, "Peace be to you," when he sends us not peace, but war and its alarms. But it is not a mockery; he who cannot be deceived also cannot deceive. His words are faithful and true. He has really peace to give us--peace in the midst of combat, calm even in the storm. {226} When the storm arose on the sea of Galilee, and he was asleep in the boat, his disciples came to him, saying: "Lord, save us, we perish." But he answered: "Why are you fearful, O ye of little faith?" Was there not reason for them to be fearful, to lose their peace of mind, when death was staring them in the face, and all their efforts to save themselves were vain? No, not if they had faith to show that God was with them. This, then, should have been their peace; this should be ours: the possession of God. He has given himself entirely for us and to us in the battle in which he has placed us. He fights on our side. What, then, have we to fear if we will only keep close to him? We are sure of the victory if we call him to our aid. As St. Paul says, "If God be for us, who is against us? He that spared not even his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how hath he not also with him given us all things?" Peace, then, we should have in our spiritual combat; but how in the battle for our temporal life? Here we are not promised success; no, it must be defeat, at least in the end. We must lose at last by death all that we seek of the goods of this world. The peace which the world gives is then a delusion; it lasts but for an hour; the shadow of death is upon it. "O death!" says Holy Scripture, "how bitter is the remembrance of thee to a man that hath peace in his possessions!" Here again, therefore, our true peace is in the possession of him who is eternal; this is the peace which the world can neither give nor take away. All the storms of this world will not shake or disturb him whose house is built on this rock. "Who," again says St. Paul, "shall separate us from the love of Christ; shall tribulation, or distress, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or persecution, or the sword?" {227} This, therefore, is the true peace of the Christian: confidence in God, indifference to all that is not God. It is the peace of our Lord himself. "My peace," he says, "I give unto you." Let us ask him indeed to give it to us, now and for evermore. ------------------- {228} _Second Sunday after Easter._ Epistle. 1 _St. Peter ii._ 21-25. Dearly beloved: Christ has suffered for us, leaving you an example that you should follow his steps. "Who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth." Who, when he was reviled, did not revile: when he suffered, he threatened not: but delivered himself to him that judged him unjustly. Who his own self bore our sins in his body upon the tree: that we, being dead to sins, should live to justice: by whose stripes you were healed. For you were as sheep going astray: but you are now converted to the pastor and bishop of your souls. Gospel. _St. John x._ 11-16. At that time: Jesus said to the Pharisees: I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd giveth his life for his sheep. But the hireling, and he that is not the shepherd, whose own sheep they are not, seeth the wolf coming and leaveth the sheep, and flieth; and the wolf snatcheth and scattereth the sheep: and the hireling flieth, because he is a hireling: and he hath no care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd: and I know mine, and mine know me. As the Father knoweth me, and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for my sheep. And other sheep I have, that are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice, and there shall be one fold and one shepherd. ------------------- {229} Sermon LXVII. _The Good Shepherd_. _For you were as sheep going astray; but you are now converted to the pastor and bishop of your souls._ --1 St. Peter ii. 25. To-day is the Sunday of the Good Shepherd, and the church sings in joyful strains: "The Good Shepherd, who laid down his life for his sheep, yea, who was contented even to die for his flock, the Good Shepherd is risen again--Alleluia!" It is in this tender, loving, and, to us, most winning character that our Lord presents himself in the Gospel of to-day--the Good Shepherd, who knoweth his sheep, and acknowledges them as his own, whose tender care for them is so great that he is willing even to lay down his life for their sake, yet with the power to take it again for his own glory and for their eternal good. We are those sheep for whom he died, and for whom he rose again, for they are in the truest sense his sheep who believe in his name, and are gathered into his one fold, the holy Catholic Church. But it is not enough to believe; we must also hear his voice. How have we done this in the past? Have we hearkened to his voice as he spake to us through the offices of the church, through the words of our pastors, through the still, small voice of conscience? Alas! we have been as sheep going astray. We have been deaf to his voice, as it has so often spoken to us, bidding us follow him. And, having strayed away from our Shepherd, we have refused to listen to the loving tones of that same sweet voice, calling us back to our place in the flock, but have wandered still further away into the pleasant pastures of sin, where all seemed delight for a time, but where the wolf, the great enemy of our souls, was lurking, waiting for his chance to seize us as his prey for ever. {230} Oh! into what danger have we run by thus wandering from the right path! But now, during the holy season of Lent that is passed, the church has been appealing to us through her solemn offices, and through the earnest words spoken by her ministers, to forsake our evil ways, to leave the deceitful pleasures of sin, and return to where we can alone find pasture for our souls, to the sacraments of the church, wherein the Good Shepherd gives himself to his sheep. Many have hearkened to the call of the Saviour's voice, many have come during this holy time to the green pastures and the still waters, where the Good Shepherd feeds his flock, and, with souls restored and renewed, are prepared and determined to walk hereafter in the paths of righteousness, where he leads the way. Even when at last they shall walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death they will fear no evil, for he will be with them, his rod and his staff shall comfort them. But there are also many, far too many, who have not listened to the voice of Jesus, as he calls them in this blessed Easter-tide. Poor, wayward sheep, they still wander in paths of their own choosing, which can only lead them into danger and into death. O foolish, wandering ones! take heed ere it is too late to the gentle voice that calls you. Your souls are soiled and sin-stained, and you have need to be washed in the stream which flows from your Shepherd's side, his Precious Blood shed for you when he laid down his life for your sake. {231} Come, wash and be made clean in the Sacrament of Penance which he has ordained for your cleansing. You were as sheep going astray; be now converted and return to Jesus, the pastor, the shepherd, the bishop of your souls. You have been famishing for the food you need for your spiritual sustenance. Come, then, to him who so graciously and tenderly invites you to the table which he has prepared for you. Draw nigh with joy to the heavenly banquet of his Sacred Body and the goodly, overflowing cup of his Precious Blood, that your souls may be fed and have life eternal. Then will you be strong in the presence of your enemies, his mercy will follow you all the days of your life, and you will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever, even in that house of many mansions which he has prepared for those who love and follow him. For he has said of those who hear his voice and follow him: "I give them life everlasting, and they shall not perish for ever, and no man shall snatch them out of my hand." And remember that other promise of his: "He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood has everlasting life, and I will raise him up at the last day." Yes, poor, lost sheep though we have been, if we now turn from our wayward paths to hear his voice and follow him, he will raise us up at the last day, and place us among his favored sheep upon his right hand, to be glad for ever in the light of his countenance. ------------------- {232} Sermon LXVIII. Dead Faith. _That Christ may dwell by faith in your hearts._ --Ephesians iii. 17. Holy Writ teaches us in many places, my brethren, that God dwells in our hearts by charity, and here we are taught that he dwells by faith also. Of course, the meaning is the same. For an elect soul to know Christ is to love him. And even for a reprobate soul to know the truth of religion is that indescribable boon which makes a possible salvation capable of becoming quickly real. How terrible the misfortune of the Calvinist who believes that a bad life necessarily means absence of faith! How consoling to know that our sinful friends, if they have but the true faith, have a seed of eternal life which may yet spring up into a fruitful tree! Yet it is terrible to think of how some men trifle with their faith. Brethren, look at the end and judge the beginning by it. The end of wicked men is damnation, hopeless and eternal. Now, what is the faith in hell? Something that makes the Christian's torment altogether peculiar. There the name of Christian, now so noble, now entitling its bearer to pardon for every sin if but breathed forth with an act of sorrow--there the name of Christian will be a nickname. In one way he will have more faith then than now; he will know more of revealed truth, have a clearer knowledge of heavenly things. But then the hand wounded by the nail, and which now is never out of reach, will be withdrawn finally and for ever. {233} Imagine the agony of a soul in hell, whom each article of faith will cause for ever to wail and weep only this one sentence: "It is all my own fault." Brethren, you may complain that this sort of preaching does not provoke to much mirth. But there are those who should know that for them this ought to be a time of weeping and not of being merry: persons who have faith in their hearts, but not Christ. For see how men in Italy, holding fast to the truth with one hand, have with the other set up the abomination of desolation in the holy place. And see how, in France, men who deem themselves insulted if called anything but Catholics, yet deliberately rob the children of the people of the bread of life by establishing paganism in the schools. And see how many there are among us whose faith, instead of being a rule to live by, an irresistible attraction towards our Lord in a true grief for sin and strict union with him, sealed by frequent Communion, is but something handed down from father to son, like name and color and race--a traditional faith--and this proved by their vicious lives. But happy are they in whose hearts faith has prepared a dwelling for our Saviour. Our Lord is surely present within us if we are in the state of grace. Hear what he says: "If any one love me, he will keep my word; and my Father will love him, and we will come to him, and will make an abode with him." He comes, indeed, silently; he hushes the festive greetings of the angels who escort him; he hides the dazzling glory of his ascended triumph, for now it is faith and not sight. But there in the heart he none the less dwells. We live with him. The Christian feels his presence. He has an interior life whose very breath is that presence. {234} He is stamped with our Lord's character. Such a soul is truly and literally called _faithful_--faith-full. And once you are intimately acquainted with him you perceive in his ways and actions that our Lord lives with him. Better yet, he perceives it himself. How different he is from one whose knowledge of religion is mere persuasion of the mind and empty talk! With the true Christian knowledge is power. To know the true faith is for him to know how to live: better yet, to know how to suffer, how to wait, how to love, how to die. Brethren, this congregation is divided into two parts--those who are to be saved and those who are not. Those of you who are to be saved are those in whose hearts Jesus Christ actually dwells by faith. Those who are to be lost are those whose faith means that Christ has a claim against them, payment of which they will postpone till it is too late. ------------------- Sermon LXIX. Suffering False Accusations. _He delivered himself to him that judged him unjustly._ --Epistle of the Day. I suppose, my dear brethren, that there is no grievance to which we are subjected more common, and certainly there are few more distressing, than that of being judged unfairly by others. As Catholics we are all specially liable to this; we all know how Protestants, even those who profess to be quite friendly to us personally, and who sometimes will say a good word or two for our religion, still calmly assume, as a matter of course, that we believe and practise many things which we and all intelligent and honest men detest and abhor. {235} They say, for instance, that we worship images; that we pay money not only to have our sins forgiven, but even for permission in advance to commit new ones; that we believe the pope to be Almighty God; that we maintain that the end justifies the means; and so on to any extent. It was only a few days ago that it was unblushingly stated in an assembly of one of their sects that the Catholic Church was more guilty in the matter of permitting divorce than other denominations. There seems hardly to be a falsehood about us so gross or so absurd that some of them will not be found to believe and to assert it. And we of the clergy are more exposed to these slanders than any one else. They say, they take for granted, that we are hypocrites and deceivers; that under a cloak of sanctity we practise all kinds of vice; that we do not believe a word of what we teach; that our only object in our profession is to exercise power or to make money; these things and many others pass current in the world about us, so we are looked upon by many as detestable wretches not fit to live. In us, especially, are our Lord's words fulfilled: "You shall be hated by all men for my name's sake." But it is not only from outsiders, or in matters where religion is concerned, that we have to put up with false charges and unjust suspicions. In our own private character and actions we all find ourselves liable to them; we find our neighbors and acquaintances judging and even speaking unfairly about us. {236} Priests suffer in this way sometimes from their own parishioners; the laity perhaps from the priest, and often certainly from each other. How frequently we hear people complain of slander or belying from those whom they supposed to be their friends; one would think that it was not the exception, but the rule. Now all this is certainly very hard to bear. And yet as we go through life we cannot expect to be free from it; and we must try to find a way of bearing it as well as we can. What is the best way? One way, and a very good way, of putting up with this trouble is to make allowances for the unavoidable prejudice, ignorance, and imperfection of those who say about us what we know to be false, who do to us what we know to be unjust. They may not, they do not, know this as well as we do. "Father, forgive them," said our Lord on the cross, "for they know not what they do." We think others are slandering or injuring us through malice; ten to one they think they are in the right. Probably we ourselves should act just the same way in their place. Make allowances, then; give our neighbors more credit for good intentions; that is one way to put up with this suffering which we cannot altogether avoid or put a stop to. But a better and perhaps an easier way is the one recommended by St. Peter in to-day's Epistle. "Dearly beloved," he says, "Christ suffered for us, leaving you an example that you should follow his steps. Who did no sin, neither was guilt found in his mouth. Who, when he was reviled, did not revile; when he suffered he threatened not, but delivered himself to him that judged him unjustly." {237} He, the holy, the innocent one, was more wickedly and unjustly accused and judged than any of us sinners have been, or ever can be; shall we not then bear, if need be, the same treatment for his sake? To be spoken evil of falsely is to be like him; it is the mark, the badge of the Christian. This is the example he has left us that we should follow his steps; shall we refuse to profit by it? ------------------- {238} _Third Sunday after Easter._ Feast of the Patronage of St. Joseph. Epistle. 1 _St. Peter ii._ 11-19. Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims to refrain yourselves from carnal desires, which war against the soul; having your conversation good among the Gentiles; that whereas they speak against you as evildoers, considering you by your good works they may glorify God in the day of visitation. Be ye subject therefore to every human creature for God's sake; whether it be to the king as excelling, or to governors as sent by him for the punishment of evil doers and for the praise of the good; for so is the will of God, that by doing well you may silence the ignorance of foolish men: as free, and not as making liberty a cloak of malice, but as the servants of God. Honor all men; love the brotherhood; fear God; honor the king. Servants, be subject to your masters with all fear, not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward. For this is thankworthy, in Christ Jesus our Lord. Epistle Of The Feast. _Genesis xlix._ 22-26. Joseph is a growing son, a growing son and comely to behold; the daughters run to and fro upon the wall. But they that held darts provoked him, and quarrelled with him, and envied him. His bow rested upon the strong, and the bands of his arms and his hands were loosed by the hands of the mighty one of Jacob: thence he came forth a pastor, the stone of Israel. {239} The God of thy Father shall be thy helper, and the Almighty shall bless thee with the blessings of heaven above, with the blessings of the deep that lieth beneath, with the blessings of the breasts and of the womb. The blessings of thy father are strengthened with the blessings of his fathers: until the desire of the everlasting hills should come; may they be upon the head of Joseph, and upon the crown of the Nazarite among his brethren. Gospel _St. John xvi._ 16-22. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: A little while, and now you shall not see me: and again a little while, and you shall see me: because I go to the Father. Then some of his disciples said one to another: What is this that he saith to us: A little while, and you shall not see me: and again a little while, and you shall see me, and because I go to the Father? They said therefore: What is this that he saith, a little while: we know not what he speaketh. And Jesus knew that they were desirous to ask him; and he said to them: Of this do you inquire among yourselves, be cause I said: A little while, and you shall not see me: and again a little while, and you shall see me? Amen, amen I say to you, that you shall lament and weep, but the world shall rejoice: and you shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy. A woman, when she is in labor, hath sorrow, because her hour is come: but when she hath brought forth the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world. So also you now indeed have sorrow, but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice; and your joy no man shall take from you. Gospel of the Feast. _St. Luke iii._ 21-23. At that time it came to pass: When all the people were baptized, that Jesus also being baptized and praying, heaven was opened: and the Holy Ghost descended in a bodily shape as a dove upon him: and a voice came from heaven: Thou art my beloved Son, in thee I am well pleased. And Jesus himself was beginning about the age of thirty years: being (as it was supposed) the son of Joseph. ------------------- {240} Sermon LXX. Devotion To St. Joseph. _Go to Joseph, and do all that he shall say to you. _ --Genesis xli. 55. It is Joseph's nearness to Jesus and Mary during his life that leads us now, when he reigns with them in heaven, to confidently call upon him for succor in our needs, and especially do we go to him because to his patronage the whole church has been commended, that by his intercession he may do for her and each of her members what he did for Jesus and his Mother when he was in the flesh. Wisely has the church made him her protector, for his power with God must be very great. Of this we can have no doubt, when we remember that to his care were entrusted the purest and the best who have ever walked this earth--Jesus and Mary--Jesus, the Son of God; Mary, his stainless Virgin Mother, whose chaste soul the Holy Ghost made his dwelling-place, delighted with its beauty. Above the seats of all the bright angels who serve in the courts of the Most High Mary's throne was raised, and one day she would be the angels mistress and queen; Jesus was their Lord, their Maker, before whom they bowed in lowliest reverence. And yet Mary was Joseph's spouse, and Jesus rendered him the obedience a son should give a father. Very worthy must he have been who held so high an office. {241} Joseph was a necessary member of the family. He served as a veil to screen from the vulgar gaze the deep mysteries of the Incarnation and Nativity; he led the way into Egypt, and his faithful arm supported the Mother and the Babe during the journey; he brought them back to their own land and provided shelter for them; their daily bread was the fruit of his labor--in a word, during the boyhood and youth of our Lord they were entirely dependent upon him. Such, then, was Joseph's position in the Holy Family; he was the master and guardian of the household; and this is what the church would have him be in every Christian family. It is you, Christian fathers and mothers, who should be especially devout to St. Joseph, for he is your patron in a particular manner. You, like him, have the cares of the household upon you; you must provide for the life and health of the children God has given you; it is your duty to see that they are instructed in the faith and attentive to their religious duties, and that they study their school lessons; you should guard them against the dangers they must meet with in a great city like this, and keep them away from those who may lead them to evil; and, above all, you should give them good example in the practice of virtue. To fulfil your duties well you need divine assistance. Go to Joseph--go to the foster-father of Jesus Christ; he will intercede for you, and obtain the many graces of which you stand in need. Go to him and tell him all your troubles; you will find him very gracious. But St. Joseph is the patron not of heads of families alone. The church would have you all, dear brethren, "go to Joseph and do all that he shall say to you." From him she would have you learn a tender love to Jesus, a love manifesting itself in deeds, not simply in words. Joseph devoted himself to the service of our Lord, and so should we. {242} But how can we presume to say that we love or serve Jesus if we do not keep his commands; if we neglect our duties as Catholics and as members of society? Let us show how much we love him by doing something for him, as St. Joseph did, and let us, like him, be constant in our well-doing, permitting no day to pass without some acts of love to God. And if we would hope to make progress in the ways of God, let us daily "Go to Joseph and do all that he shall say." ------------------- Sermon LXXI. Christ And The Church. _I have yet many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. _ --St. John xvi. 12 These words were spoken by our Lord in his last discourse to his disciples. What were those things which he had yet to say to them, but which they could not then bear? They were things pertaining to the kingdom of God--that is, his church, his kingdom upon earth. He was about to leave the world and go to the Father, but he would leave behind him an organized body to represent him. During these forty days, then, he sketched out the plan of the Catholic Church, which the Apostles were to bring to completion, under the guidance of the Holy Ghost, who was to teach them all truth. {243} These were the many things he had yet to say to them, but which they could not understand till then, because of their former imperfect and even erroneous notions of the nature of his kingdom upon earth. He had spoken of his church before, as it were, in hints; now he speaks no longer in parables, but plainly. Listen to the few recorded words of those which he spoke during these forty days, and you will find in them an outline of the Catholic Church. He first asserts his authority to found a kingdom in this world, saying, "All power is given to me in heaven and on earth"; and then declares that he commits this same authority to his Apostles and their successors in the church: "As my Father hath sent me, I also send you." And, lest any one should say that this power and authority were given to the Apostles alone and not to their successors, he bids them go forth into all the world to preach the Gospel to every creature, and promises them his continual abiding Presence even to the end of the world. One of the Apostles he invested with a special authority over the others. The Good Shepherd would not leave his sheep in this world uncared for, so he gave to St. Peter and his successors the office of pastor of the whole church in the words, "Feed my lambs. Feed my sheep." He also set forth the means of obtaining entrance into this earthly kingdom of his namely, faith and holy baptism--"He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved "; and he declared the blessedness of those who would accept the faith upon the authority of his church: "Blessed are they that have not seen and yet have believed." {244} He provided a means by which those who should sin after baptism might find pardon and remission of their sins by instituting the Sacrament of Penance, giving to his Apostles and their successors the power to forgive and retain sins: "Whose sins you shall forgive they are forgiven them, and whose sins you shall retain they are retained." He had already instituted on the night before his Passion the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist, and during those forty days he undoubtedly gave his Apostles the necessary instructions concerning the rest of the sacraments of the new law. The Gospels do not pretend to give us all our Lord's doings and sayings, as St. John expressly tells us at the end of his Gospel. But in these recorded sayings of Jesus, during this last brief time that he spent on earth, we have the written constitution of the Catholic Church, though but in outline. The office of the pope as supreme pastor, the plenary authority of the church, and the necessity of faith upon that authority as a means of obtaining eternal salvation--all this is clearly set forth in the words that I have quoted to you. "Go, teach all nations," said our Lord to his church; and he added, "teaching them to observe whatsoever I have commanded you." On our part, then, is required faithful submission to his teaching, as it comes to us through the voice of his church. It is only by faith in this teaching and by a diligent observance of the commandments of God and his church that we can hope to save our souls and attain to the blessedness which he has promised. ------------------- {245} _Fourth Sunday after Easter._ Epistle. _St. James i._ 17-21. Dearly beloved: Every best gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no change nor shadow of vicissitude. For of his own will hath he begotten us by the word of truth, that we might be some beginning of his creatures. You know, my dearest brethren, and let every man be swift to hear, but slow to speak, and slow to anger. For the anger of man worketh not the justice of God. Wherefore casting away all uncleanness, and abundance of malice, with meekness receive the engrafted word, which is able to save your souls. Gospel. _St. John xvi._ 5-14. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: I go to him that sent me, and none of you asketh me: Whither goest thou? But because I have spoken these things to you, sorrow hath filled your heart. But I tell you the truth: it is expedient to you that I go: for if I go not, the Paraclete will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you. And when he shall come, he will convince the world of sin, and of justice, and of judgment. Of sin indeed: because they have not believed in me. And of justice: because I go to the Father; and you shall see me no longer. And of judgment: because the prince of this world is already judged. I have yet many things to say to you: but you cannot bear them now. But when he, the Spirit of truth, shall come, he will teach you all truth. For he shall not speak of himself: but what things soever he shall hear, he shall speak, and the things that are to come he shall show you. He shall glorify me: because he shall receive of mine, and will declare it to you. ------------------- {246} Sermon LXXII. Evil Conversation. _And he said to them: What are these discourses that you hold one with another? ... And they said: Concerning Jesus of Nazareth. _ --Luke xxiv. 17-19. Brethren: Suppose our Lord should stand in our midst to-day and demand from each one of us, as he did from these two disciples, What are these discourses that you hold one with another? Do our conversations, like theirs, contain nothing reprehensible? Would our answer be as pleasing to God as theirs was? If so, brethren, we have reason to thank God, and go on our way rejoicing. But of what do the majority of men most readily converse? It is sad that we have to confess it, but God and his works, the soul and its wants are topics anything but agreeable to most of the men of our day. And so every legitimate means must be resorted to in order to make the things of God and spiritual conversation at all palatable. And you, fathers and mothers of families, what are these conversations which you hold one with the other? What are the topics most commonly treated of in your Christian homes? Is it the virtues of your neighbors that are spoken of and recounted for your own edification and your children's imitation? Would to God it were always so! But there are homes supposed to be occupied by Christians where God's holy name is never mentioned save to be blasphemed, where the neighbor is never spoken of except to recall his follies, his vices, or even his atrocious crimes. {247} Christian parents, beware of the scandal your conversations may give to your family, but especially to your innocent children. Remember that many a soul to-day steeped in vice received its first sinful impulse from some unguarded word, some improper topic of conversation heard in the home that should have been the nursery of every virtue. And from you, young men and women, an answer might be profitably demanded to this important question: What are the conversations which you most readily indulge in one with the other? Are they in any way improper, or such that you would be ashamed to have them repeated in the presence of your parents? If so, then your discourses are not concerning Jesus of Nazareth, and you are not following the example of his disciples. But if in your conversations, following the Apostolic rule, the things that savor of uncleanness are not so much as mentioned amongst you, what is to be said about the precious time you squander in idle, frivolous talk? Remember that time is but the threshold of eternity, every moment of which is of the highest value to you now; and this is why on the last great day we shall be held to account for every idle word. Young men and women, never admit into your company those whose conversations are unworthy of a Christian, and especially let your own language be always in harmony with your high calling. Indeed, brethren, to all of us this question of our Lord brings home an important lesson. For if we would lead good Christian lives we must not only abstain from all that is unbecoming or scandalous, but we must also regulate with all diligence our ordinary commonplace conversations. {248} Let them be always such that we would not hesitate to repeat them before God or his most virtuous servants. If we would have our conversations agreeable to God and men, we should make it a rule never to speak disparagingly of those _absent_, and never take advantage of their absence to say anything which we would not dare say in their presence. And the other rule we should follow is this: never to say in the presence of others anything which could give scandal or leave a bad impression. Brethren, if we think often of this question of our Lord, if we are diligent in following these rules, our conversations will be always edifying to our neighbors and useful to ourselves. Then, if called upon at any moment by our Lord, we can answer with his disciples, Our conversations are "concerning Jesus of Nazareth." ------------------- Sermon LXXIII. Temptation. _Blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he hath been proved, he shall receive the crown of life, which God hath promised to them that love him. _ --St. James i. 12. These words, my dear brethren, are from the Scripture read in the Divine Office for to-day. They also, and very appropriately, have a prominent place in the Office read on the feasts of martyrs through the year. {249} "Blessed is the man that endureth temptation." "Yes," you may say, "certainly, if a man does endure and resist temptation, it is a good thing, and one for which he has reason to be thankful; but for my part, I would rather get along without being tempted." This is a thought which is very likely to occur to those who are in earnest about saving their souls, and are therefore afraid that they may give way to temptation, commit mortal sin, and be lost. They are inclined to envy others who seem to have a good and innocent natural disposition, and sometimes they may, perhaps, wish that they themselves had died in their baptismal innocence, before temptation and sin were possible. Now this wish is not altogether wrong; it is certainly pleasing to God for us to desire that it might be impossible to offend him, and that our own salvation might be made secure. But it is a mistake, when he does allow temptation to come on us without our fault, to think that it would be better for us if he had not done so. It is a mistake, and why? Because far the greater part of us cannot acquire supernatural virtue in any high degree, give much glory to God, or be entitled to much reward at his hands, without a good deal of temptation. If it would please God to infuse all the virtues into our souls without any trouble or labor on our part, it might indeed be very well; but this he is not bound to do, and generally he does not choose to do it. He prefers that we should obtain our virtues partly by our own exertions. And as we will not pray or meditate, do penance or mortify ourselves enough to accomplish this end, there is no way to make any virtue strong and hardy in us except by forcing us to oppose its contrary vice. {250} It is quite easy to seem very pleasant and good-natured when one has no crosses or provocations; but let a sharp or insulting word be said, and it will soon be seen how much real patience there is in this seeming good-humor; perhaps passion will flame out all the more violently for being long in repose. But if one's patience is often tried, and stands the test by means of our own earnest struggles, it will become after a time something which we can really count on. This, then, is one good in temptation, that it makes our virtue really strong and solid for future use. But another value of it is to enable us to make acts at the very moment which will have an eternal reward and merit, and which we should never make were we let alone. Let one be tempted by impure thoughts for a day, and faithfully resist them; in that day he will perhaps have done more to please God and obtain merit and glory in heaven than in a year of ordinary life. So if temptation comes without our own fault, we may indeed rejoice and count ourselves blessed, as St. James says; for it is indeed an earnest of the crown of life which our tried and strengthened souls shall win, and which shall be decked with the innumerable gems which our battles with sin have merited. But let us not allow it to come by our fault, for then we cannot hope for a blessing with it. "Lead us not into temptation," we say every day; profitable as the contest may be to us, it would be presumption to offer ourselves to it, or to ask from God an opportunity for it. Let us wait till he chooses to call us to the strife, and then thank him for the trial which shall give us, with his help, the crown of life which he has promised to those who love him, and for his love hate and resist sin. ------------------- {251} _Fifth Sunday after Easter._ Epistle. _St. James i._ 22-27. Dearly beloved: Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves. For if a man be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he shall be compared to a man beholding his natural countenance in a glass. For he beheld himself, and went his way, and presently forgot what manner of man he was. But he that hath looked into the perfect law of liberty, and hath continued in it, not becoming a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work: this man shall be blessed in his deed. And if any man think himself to be religious, not bridling his tongue, but deceiving his own heart, this man's religion is vain. Religion pure and unspotted with God and the Father, is this: to visit the fatherless and widows in their tribulation; and to keep one's self undefiled from this world. Gospel. _St. John xvi._ 23-30. At that time Jesus said to his disciples: Amen, amen I say to you, if you ask the Father anything in my name, he will give it you. Hitherto you have not asked any thing in my name. Ask, and you shall receive: that your joy may be full. These things have I spoken to you in proverbs. The hour cometh when I will no more speak to you in proverbs, but will show you plainly of the Father. In that day you shall ask in my name: and I say not to you, that I will ask the Father for you. For the Father himself loveth you, because you have loved me, and have believed that I came forth from God. I came forth from the Father, and am come into the world; again I leave the world, and I go to the Father. His disciples say to him: Behold now thou speakest plainly, and speak-est no proverb. Now we know that thou knowest all things, and that for thee it is not needful that any man ask thee. In this we believe that thou camest forth from God. ------------------- {252} Sermon LXXIV. Sins Of The Tongue. _And if any man think himself to be religious, not bridling his tongue, but deceiving his own heart, this man's religion is vain._ --St. James i. 26. My dear brethren, we see by these words that we have a rule by which to find out whether or not we deserve to be called sincere Christians or hypocrites. In order to be a sincere Christian, what has a man to do? He has to get control of himself; to get his soul and all that it can desire subject to the law of God; to get all pride, covetousness, lust, anger, envy, gluttony, and sloth under the control of his own will; to get that will subject to and one with the will of God; and, what is more, he must keep himself in this state of mind at least so far as to restrain himself from committing mortal sin and the graver venial sins if he desire sincerely to keep his soul well out of danger. He who acts thus is a truly good man, and that man's religion is not vain. {253} What is the first thing to be done to begin to live in this way? It is to examine and see in what way a man commits the greater number of sins. One will soon find that the tongue of man is the means by which a man sins most frequently and in the most devilish manner. For, says St. James, "The tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity, ... defileth the whole body, ... being set on fire by hell." We see from this how dangerous to the soul is the tongue of man. As we do see this, are we not bound to keep in check, _at all costs_, this source of evil? Any one can see that, if he does not bridle his tongue, his religion is vain indeed. In fact, it is nothing but a merely outward show. It is hypocrisy of the worst kind. But what are the sins of the tongue we most often hear? They are blasphemies, curses, and oaths; the retailing of our neighbors faults with delight and evident pleasure; quarrels, bickerings, constant reproaches for faults that are past, gone, and even sincerely repented of long ago; immodest and impure conversations, with jokes and stories a heathen feels ashamed of; hints and little words that seem almost nothing, yet injuring seriously the reputation of some one, separating friends, and making even those near and dear to each other by every tie cold and distant for a long time, if not for the rest of their lives. God deliver us all from the evil tongue! It works in our very homes. The husband becomes by it bitterness and gall to his wife and family. The wife becomes a torture to husband and children. Both by it make home a curse instead of a blessing, and separate those of whom the word of God declares, "Whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." Too often do we see sad examples of this kind. Too often do we find such a husband, who is like a roaring wild beast in his home, and a wife whose tongue once set going, even for a slight cause, is like a clock running down, or like the mill-clapper, so often used as a figure of an unruly tongue. {254} The bad tongue of a child is the ruin of all in the house. That child is a tale-bearer and a traitor against those who begot him. A detestable habit of the evil tongue is what the world calls "damning our neighbor with faint praise," or, in other words, praising him highly, even to the skies, and putting in a little word of evil that destroys him all the more surely. One will excuse himself by saying: "But, after all, I spoke well of him. It can't do any harm!" Yet he knows in his inmost soul he has ruined or seriously injured his neighbor. How would I feel if I were spoken of in this manner? is the question one should have asked himself before he said a word. How common is it to find persons the moment they see anything wrong done by another or hear of it hurry in great glee to tell it at once! Do we not know, my dear brethren, that such a one is a scandalizer of men, and that the Christian rule requires us to be silent then under pain of sin? But the greater the evil done the more delighted are they to tell it. It should be just the other way. Never reveal to any one the sin of your neighbor, unless to save an innocent person or another from damage of some kind. This damage must be serious to oblige one to tell, even then, the sin of another, for he is equally obliged by God not to tell it under ordinary circumstances. Remember, then, that no one can be a true Christian unless he keeps from these sins by bridling his tongue. Otherwise, as the text declares, "this man's religion is vain." ------------------- {255} Sermon LXXV. Perseverance In Prayer. _Yet if he shall continue, knocking, I say to you, although he will not rise and give him, because he is his friend; yet because of his importunity he will rise; and give him as many as he needeth._ --St. Luke xi. 8. Many people complain that their prayers are not heard. Again and again they have made some special requests for temporal, or it may be even for spiritual, blessings, and nothing seems to have come of these petitions. Others get what they ask for, but they are not so favored; and they almost make up their minds that it is of no use for them to pray. They think, perhaps, that they are too great sinners for God to hear them; or that they do not know how to pray right; or they are even tempted to believe that prayer is a mistake altogether; that God's will is not moved by it; that, if any one does seem to get anything by it, it is only by chance, and would have come without it just as well. Now what can be the reason of the failure of these good people in prayer? Is it, perhaps, because what they asked was really an evil for them, and so God could not in mercy grant it, but had to give them something better instead, which they have not noticed? Or is it that they did not strive to do their best to win what they wanted also by their own exertions as well as by prayer; that they would not put their own shoulder to the wheel? If it was some virtue, such as charity or patience, that they were asking for, and meanwhile took no real pains to cultivate and practise it, no wonder that God would not give it to them. {256} Or, lastly, is the reason for their disappointment that they were praying for others whose will was obstinately set against their prayers? A mother prays for her son, and her prayers are heard, though they may not seem to be. Graces are granted to him, but he resists them. God has not promised to send them, in such a torrent as to sweep away and break down all opposition, though he may yet do so, if she will only persevere. Persevere! Ah! that word suggests what may be the real difficulty, the true reason for the seeming uselessness of so many good prayers. They are good as far as they go, but there are not enough of them. The effect that is to come of them is to come all at once; it is like the fall of a tree in the woods under the blows of the axe: the tree will come down, but not at the first, the second, the tenth, or perhaps even the hundredth stroke. Yes, my brethren, our Lord could no doubt grant our prayers as soon as we made them, but he does not wish to do so. And I think we can see at least two reasons why he does not. First, if he grants what we ask at once we will go off with what he has given us, and hare no more to say to him. And, strange to say, he enjoys our society; he has himself said his delight is to be with the children of men. So he keeps us around him, though it be only to tease, as a father would the children he loved, if he could not keep them any other way. And, secondly, he knows that it is good for us to be with him; and that every time we pray in earnest we come nearer to him, and our souls become stronger. So it is that, both for his own sake and for our good, he sometimes will not grant our prayers unless we persevere in them for a very long while. {257} Our Lord has given us to understand this importance of persevering in prayer very plainly in the Gospel read on these days, called Rogation Days, between to-day and the Feast of the Ascension. He represents to us in the parable of this Gospel a man who has gone to bed, and is roused at midnight by a friend who wants to borrow some bread to set before an unexpected guest. He at first tells the disturber to leave him alone; he says that he cannot be bothered to get up at such an inconvenient time; he pretends to drop off asleep, and keeps his friend outside knocking and pounding for so long a time that he almost gives it up as useless. "Yet," says our Lord, "if he shall continue knocking, I say to you, although he will not rise and give him because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will rise and give him as many as he needeth." This is the lesson, then, it may be, for those who have had no success at their prayers. They did well to begin, but they did not keep at it long enough. Let them go at it once again, and keep on. Let them ask, and keep asking, and they shall receive; let them seek long enough, and they shall find; let them keep knocking and making a disturbance, and at last the door shall be opened, and they shall obtain what they desire. ------------------- {258} _Sunday within the Octave of the Ascension._ Epistle. 1 _St. Peter iv._ 7-11. Dearly beloved: Be prudent, and watch in prayers. But before all things have a mutual charity among yourselves: for charity covereth a multitude of sins. Using hospitality one towards another without murmuring. As every man hath received grace, ministering the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. If any man speak, let him speak as the words of God. If any man minister, let it be as from the power which God administereth: that in all things God may be honored through Jesus Christ our Lord. Gospel. _St. John xv._ 26-xvi. 4. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: When the Paraclete shall come whom I will send you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceedeth from the Father, he shall give testimony of me. And you shall give testimony, because you are with me from the beginning. These things have I spoken to you, that you may not be scandalized. They will put you out of the synagogues: yea, the hour cometh that whosoever killeth you, will think that he doeth a service to God. And these things will they do to you, because they have not known the Father, nor me. But these things I have told you, that when the hour of them shall come, you may remember that I told you. ------------------- {259} Sermon LXXVI. After A Mission. There is nothing, my dear brethren, which can give more joy and consolation both to pastor and people than a mission such as that which was closed last Sunday. Thank God, there were many who had been living previously in sin, but who really turned from it then with their whole hearts, and who now have a happiness in those hearts to which they had long before been strangers. This happiness ought to last all their lives. God means that it should; they can make it do so if they will. But how will it be in fact; how is it too often, after such times of grace and fervor? We have had missions before, which really seemed as if they marked a new era in the history of our parish; but we look for their fruits now and find them only few and far between. Too many of those who made them went back a month or so afterward to the old ways of sin. What was the reason that they did not persevere? Why was it that they had the same sad story to tell when they came back this time that they had a few years ago? Was it that they never expected it to be otherwise? Perhaps so. Some Christians--shame to say it--seem to think that mortal sin cannot be avoided. Such do not really try to avoid it; how can they? How can any one seriously attempt what he believes to be impossible? No wonder that such as these fell; the question is if indeed they ever arose. {260} For how could they have made the purpose of amendment which a good confession requires? Let them understand, at least now, that it is possible to abandon mortal sin at once and for ever. But was it, perhaps, that they thought they could keep the grace they had got by their own unaided strength; that they could fight the devil single-handed, or even that he would never trouble them much again? Ah! my brethren, if any of you thought that he made a terrible mistake. Satan does not give up the souls which he has once possessed so easily. He knows the advantage which all habits of sin give him, and he is going to make the most of them. He will surely attack you, and you are weak, while he is strong. If you undertake to fight him alone, you will go to the wall. You cannot conquer him unless God helps you. But, after all, there are not many Catholics who do not know that it needs God's help to persevere. Oh! yes; almost every one will say, when asked after confession if he is going to avoid sin for the future, that he will, "with the help of God." Well, then, what is the matter? If we know that we are in danger, and that we can escape from it, but only by God's help, why does not that help come and save us? I will tell you why it does not. And to do so I have only to turn to the first words of to-day's Mass: "He shall call on me, and I will hear him; I will deliver him and glorify him." That is the whole story. If we want God to deliver us, we must ask him to do it. In other words, if we wish to persevere, we must pray. If we do not go to God to get the strength which we need, we must be without it. {261} The sinner who repents, and does not pray often and fervently afterward to keep the grace he has, being especially careful of his morning prayers; who does not, above all, make often the best of all prayers--that of again coming to the sacraments--is a fool, and the devil's laughing-stock. The great majority of those who have been leading a bad life, and who abandon it at a mission, or at any other time, will not persevere unless they are willing to take the trouble to make frequent and earnest prayers, and to come to confession again within a month. That is simple fact; it is the teaching of experience, not mere guess-work. Are you, my friends, willing to take that trouble for your soul's sake, or do you prefer to fall as you have fallen before? ------------------- Sermon LXXVII. Bearing Witness For Our Lord. _And you shall give testimony, because you are with me from the beginning._ --St. John xv. 27. It might be asked, dear brethren, what need God has of _our_ testimony, or why the creature should act the part of witness for the Creator? Certainly Jesus Christ needed not the testimony of men, but in his infinite goodness and wisdom he has seen fit to commit to each one of us a sublime and holy mission, none other than that of giving testimony of him before the world, for the sake of our fellow-man. {262} "You are," says St. Peter, "a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, that you may declare the virtues of him who hath called you out of darkness." This, then, is our mission, to be witnesses for Jesus Christ; and to-day we are going to consider how we are fulfilling it. You know, brethren, with what a keen sense of criticism the world examines the testimony of those witnessing in behalf of others, and how it values their testimony in proportion to their uprightness and integrity. Well, so it is with regard to us and the testimony we are called upon to give of our Blessed Lord. We Christians are all on the witness-stand of this great world. To-day the unbelieving world is passing judgment upon our testimony, deciding whether it be for or against Jesus Christ; but, brethren, there will come a day when Christ himself will sit in judgment upon this same testimony and reward us accordingly. Since, then, this our mission is so important, brethren, how are we to fulfil it? It seems to me in no better way than by leading truly Christian lives, and thus forcing the world to acknowledge that we are animated by the spirit of God. The early Christians brought the light of faith to thousands, not by preaching, but by the holiness of their lives; and so, when the pagans and infidels came in contact with them, they were forced to admire and exclaim, "Behold how these Christians love one another!" Would to God that the life and conduct of every Christian to-day could force a similar confession from the unbelievers of our time. {263} Indeed, brethren, all Christians of our day have a great mission to fulfil in this regard; but _we_ especially, for the reason given by our Lord himself--"because you are with me from the beginning." You, beloved brethren, who have had the faith from the beginning--from your earliest childhood--have a special reason why your testimony for Jesus Christ should never be failing. Has it ever been so? Have your virtuous lives and edifying example brought home the truths and beauties of the Catholic faith to those outside the church? I fear, brethren, the conduct of bad and negligent Catholics has kept back many from inquiring into the true faith. Such Catholics, wearing the livery of Satan, have given false testimony of God, and will have to render an account for it. We can all of us, brethren, give testimony of Jesus Christ by every action of our lives. Parents can and should render this testimony by the good example they give their families, and the Christian solicitude they have for their spiritual welfare. Young men and women should give this testimony by the profession and practice of God's law and the church's precepts. Let the consideration, dear brethren, of this our high mission, our being called to give testimony of God, be the means of animating us to renewed fervor in the service of Jesus Christ. ------------------- Sermon LXXVIII. The Indwelling of the Holy Spirit. _Watch in prayers._ --1 St. Peter iv. 7. {264} To-day is the Sunday of expectation, and it brings to our minds that upper chamber in Jerusalem, where the little band of the chosen disciples of the Lord were gathered together waiting for the coming of the Holy Ghost. There were the eleven Apostles and the faithful women, and Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and his brethren. "All these," says the sacred chronicler, "were persevering with one mind in prayer." Hence the Epistle of to-day urges us to imitate them, and begins with the exhortation: "Dearly beloved, watch in prayers." We too must watch and wait for the coming of the Holy Ghost. He has, indeed, already come into our souls in Holy Baptism, cleansing them from original sin and making them his temples. He has come again in Confirmation, with all the fulness of his sevenfold gifts, to make us strong and perfect Christians and soldiers of Christ. Yet he comes to us continually every day, knocking at the door of our hearts and begging for admittance. Every impulse of what is known as actual grace is from the Holy Ghost, and such graces we are receiving all the time, every hour of the day. We must therefore prepare ourselves for his coming, and when he has entered into our souls we must strive to keep him there. The Holy Ghost is the life of our souls. It is his constant presence and indwelling which is the state of grace which makes us pleasing to God. To obtain and to preserve this abiding presence of the Holy Ghost we must imitate the Apostles in their watchfulness and prayer. We must watch lest the time of temptation should find us unprepared and off our guard; we must pray that the Holy Ghost may come into our hearts, bringing with him ever richer treasures of divine grace; that he may take possession of our souls and make them all his own; that he may guide our minds, and with the fire of his love inflame our hearts to do his holy will in all things. {265} But we must first of all prepare for the Holy Ghost by cleansing our souls from sin. Where sin reigns the Holy Ghost can never dwell. The Apostles prepared for his corning by penance. To that upper chamber in Jerusalem came St. Peter, who had denied his Lord, St. Thomas, who had doubted his resurrection, and the others who had wavered in their faith, and, in the time of trial, had forsaken their Master and fled. But now they had been convinced of their error, and they came together with sorrow for their past unfaithfulness, and a full determination to lay down their lives, if need be, for him who had died for them. This is the spirit in which we should prepare for the Holy Ghost. If your hearts are defiled with mortal sin, delay not the time of penance. The Holy Ghost is ready to descend upon you. He only waits for you to do your part. Make ready, then, a place in your heart, that he may enter in and dwell there. "O my dearly beloved brethren!" exclaims St. Gregory the Great, "think what a dignity it is to have God abiding as a guest in our heart! Surely, if some rich man or some powerful friend were to come into our house, we would hasten to have our whole house cleaned, lest, perchance, when he came in he should see anything to displease his eye. So let him that would make his mind an abode for God cleanse it from all the filth of works of iniquity." {266} "And they were persevering with one mind in prayer." Our prayer must be persevering if we would gain that which we desire. This is what our Lord meant when he said that we ought always to pray and not to faint. Unless we persevere in prayer we shall without doubt faint by the way in the journey of life. And let us do as the Apostles did, join our prayers to those of Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and we shall have a sure hope of obtaining what is most needful for us. Then, as the Holy Ghost once descended upon her, and wrought within her the Incarnation, so also will he come into our hearts, and make them the abode of the Holy Trinity. Then, if we listen to his blessed voice within us, we shall grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, for the Holy Ghost will teach us all things, according to the promise. ------------------- {267} _Feast of Pentecost, or Whit-Sunday._ Epistle. _Acts ii. _1-11. When the days of the Pentecost were accomplished, they were all together in the same place: and suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a mighty wind coming, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. And there appeared to them cloven tongues as it were of fire, and it sat upon every one of them, And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and they began to speak with divers tongues, according as the Holy Ghost gave them to speak. Now there were dwelling at Jerusalem Jews, devout men out of every nation under heaven. And when this voice was made, the multitude came together, and were confounded in mind, because that every one heard them speak in his own tongue. And they were all amazed and wondered, saying: Behold, are not all these who speak Galileans? And how have we every one heard our own tongue wherein we were born? Parthians, and Medes, and Elamites, and inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphilia, Egypt and the parts of Lybia about Cyrene, and strangers of Rome, Jews also, and proselytes, Cretes and Arabians; we have heard them speak in our own tongues the wonderful works of God. Gospel. _St. John xiv._ 23-31. At that time Jesus said to his disciples: If any one love me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him, and make our abode with him. He that loveth me not, keepeth not my words. And the word which you have heard is not mine, but the Father's who sent me. {268} These things have I spoken to you, remaining with you. But the Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring all things to your mind, whatsoever I shall have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you: not as the world giveth do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, nor let it be afraid. You have heard that I have said to you: I go away, and I come again to you. If you loved me, you would indeed be glad, because I go to the Father: for the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you before it come to pass: that when it shall come to pass, you may believe. Now I will not speak many things with you. For the prince of this world cometh, and in me he hath not anything. But that the world may know that I love the Father: and as the Father hath given me commandment, so I do. ------------------- Sermon LXXIX. The Holy Ghost In The Church. _The Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring all things to your mind, whatsoever I shall have said to you. _ --Gospel of the Day. On the day which we now commemorate, my brethren, the Holy Ghost came down, as you know, on the little company of Christians assembled in the upper room at Jerusalem, to prepare them for the great combat in which they were about to engage against the devil for the conquest of the world. He came down upon them to make of them the church of God; to establish them in the truth, and to bring to their remembrance, as our Lord had promised, the faith which they had received from his lips. {269} He came to give them not only the knowledge but also the courage and strength which would be necessary for them to persevere, to resist and overcome all the attacks of the enemy, and to weather all the storms which heresy, infidelity, and worldliness were about to raise against the one true faith. And he was to come, and has come, not only on them, but on those who have followed them as well, and for the same purpose. We have received him, and he abides in the Catholic Church to-day as he did in the times of the Apostles. The Holy Ghost is the life of the church; it is his presence which distinguishes her from the human institutions which have appeared in the world with her and have one by one sprung up and passed away. It is his abiding with her that makes her life perpetual, ever the same and ever new. But how is the Holy Ghost in the Catholic Church? How is it that he is her life, and that he keeps now, as of old, in the one true body which all who will but clear the mists of prejudice from before their eyes can see is the one which Christ promised to form, and to which all his promises were made? In the first place, the Holy Ghost is in the Catholic Church by the gift bestowed on the successors of the Apostles in the Apostolic See, of infallibility in teaching the faith. In this way the truth is sure to be kept in the world; it cannot fail to be taught, while the Vicar of Christ remains to teach it. But it is not only in the Holy See that the Spirit of God abides. The bishops throughout the world also teach the faith by his help and guidance; and this help is also given to the clergy who assist them. {270} Nor does the work of the Holy Ghost stop here; he is also with the body of the faithful, enabling them also to recognize the truth when they hear it, and to distinguish it from error. "You have the unction from the Holy One, and know all things," says St. John; "I have not written to you as to them that know not the truth, but as to them that know it." Yes, the Holy Ghost is throughout the church; he is her life, and is not only in her head, but also in her members. Were he not in the members, though the pope indeed should remain to teach the truth, the faithful would not have remained faithful or attentive to the truth which he would teach. What a blessing, then, my brethren, is this light of the Holy Ghost, which is given in its measure to each one of us; which keeps us in the one fold, and which makes us, out of many, one body in Christ; which brings his words always to our minds, and which preserves us from the ever-changing doubt and confusion which is the lot of those who arc separated from the one true church in which he dwells! Let us, then, preserve this unspeakable gift; let us not quench the Spirit of God within us. And how is it quenched? How do we lose the light of faith which he gives? By sin, and never except by sin. Though instruction be indeed good and salutary, it is not the simple and the unlearned who lose the faith, but such as give ear to their passions, specially those of pride and impurity. All the heresies which have torn multitudes from the church of Christ have had their roots not so much in ignorance as in sin. "Keep yourselves," then, my brethren, as St. John warns you, "from idols"; this is the only sure way to keep in yourselves the light of God. ------------------- {271} Sermon LXXX. The Guidance Of The Holy Spirit. _If any one love me he will keep my word, and my father will love him, and we will come to him and make our abode with him; he that loveth me not, keepeth not my word._ --Gospel of the Day. To-day, dear brethren, the church sends up her voice of praise for the coming of the Holy Spirit. On this day the Holy Ghost, the personal love of the Father and the Son, came upon the disciples in that upper chamber in Jerusalem, where they were gathered together in prayer awaiting the promise of the Father. He came upon weak and timid men, but when he had poured himself upon them behold we have the great Apostles, the teachers of the divine word, the fearless and untiring searchers after souls, the founders of the church. Ah! what a change had been wrought in these timid followers of Jesus, who had fled from him in the hour of his need, and who, after his resurrection, lay hid with barred doors for fear of the Jews! Their fear and their weakness have disappeared, and the whole world is not large enough for the exercise of their zeal, nor less than the conversion of all nations the end of their noble ambition. {272} But, dear brethren, the self-same Holy Ghost, who brought about this change in the Apostles, comes to us, nay, abides in us, if we fulfil the condition our Lord lays down--namely, that we love him. And he makes the test of our love the keeping of his word. If we love him the Father will love us, and the Father and the Son will come to us and make their abode with us through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is our sanctifier. It is he to whom are ascribed the works of love. He dispenses the graces which the merits of Jesus Christ have won for us. He purifies from sin and unites our souls to God. He dwells in every one who is free from grievous sin, and by his light and strength he gives us help to overcome the temptations which assail us. He is the Spirit of joy and sweetness, filling us with the fear of God, urging us on in the love of God, guarding us from the loss of God's friendship by the winning sweetness of his consolations. How greatly, then, should we love and adore the Holy Ghost, the third person of the Blessed Trinity! We should often call upon him and pray to him. We do not invoke the Holy Ghost enough. We pray to the Father and to the Son, and so indirectly honor God, the Holy Spirit; but we should pray more frequently to him directly. We should call upon him to give us, if we have it not, the grace of God, and to increase in us the fire of divine love that we may realize in ourselves the promise of the abiding of God in us by keeping his laws. What folly it is for us to imagine that God can have a dwelling-place in our sin-stained soul! How can the Holy Spirit find pleasure in one who by mortal sin has made himself God's enemy; who has been guilty of a deliberate act of rebellion against his Maker and been unfaithful to or left unheeded his own sweet drawing? {273} Alas for us, if this Pentecost finds us in this awful state! Alas! if the voice of our conscience has been silenced; this day then brings no joy to us! The Holy Spirit has no abiding-place within our souls. We have not loved the Son because we have not kept his words: "He that loveth me not keepeth not my words." And because we have not loved him the Father and he will not come to us. The loving Holy Ghost is not master in our house; we have driven him out who was our best friend and thrown open the gate to our enemy. Will you remain thus, you who are in sin? Let not this day go by and to-morrow find you unrepentant. Grieve for your past offences, keep the law of God, and you shall have the fulness of the Holy Spirit. ------------------- Sermon LXXXI. The Easter Duty. In this great feast and its octave, my dear brethren, we commemorate the last of all the wonderful events which brought the Christian religion into the world. To-day our Divine Saviour, having ascended into heaven, fulfilled his promise in the descent of the Holy Ghost upon his Apostles; to-day the Catholic Church was fully established, and given power to convert the world; to-day the order of things was begun which is to last to the end of time. And with this octave closes, therefore, that especially holy part or season of the year which centres round the resurrection of our Lord, and which has, for most obvious reasons, been appointed as the time in which every Christian is bound, under pain of mortal sin, to receive Holy Communion, or make, as we say, his Easter duty. {274} Only one more week remains in which to attend to this most important of all the obligations of a Catholic, to fulfil this greatest precept of the positive Christian law. Now, what is exactly this precept of the Easter duty? Strange to say, you will often find people who do not seem to have any clear idea about it at all, in spite of all that is said about it from the altar and in common catechisms and books of instruction. And yet it is very simple. It is just this: Every Catholic of sufficient age to receive Communion is bound to receive it on some day between the first Sunday of Lent and Trinity Sunday--that is, a week from to-day--inclusive; and it is very difficult for any one to have any excuse from complying with this law. The Easter duty, then, is not merely an obligation to receive once a year. A person may receive a hundred times in the year, and yet not make his Easter duty; just as one may hear Mass every day in the week, and yet not fulfil the precept of hearing Mass if he stays away on Sunday. Now this seems quite easy to understand; but there are people, and plenty of them, too, who will make a mission shortly before Lent, and then say at this time: "Oh! I went to Communion not very long ago; there is no need to go so soon again." They might as well say on Sunday, if they had heard Mass on Saturday: "I need not go to church to-day; it was only yesterday that I was there." The law of hearing Mass is not to hear it once a week, but to hear it on Sundays and holydays of obligation; so the law of Communion is not to receive once or twice a year, but to receive at the time appointed. No other time will do. {275} But some may say: "I have not committed any mortal sin since my last confession; I am just as good as these people who are running to church all the time." Very good, perhaps you are; though it may be that Almighty God does not have so high an opinion of you as you seem to have of yourself. But it is not the question whether you are good or not; the law is not to confess mortal sin at Easter; far from it, one ought to have no mortal sin to confess, then or at any other time. No, the law is to go to Communion. One should get leave to do so, of course; but if you have no sin on your conscience, what is easier than to say so to the priest? You ought to be glad to be able to say it. Do not, then, make the foolish excuse either that you have been to Communion at Christmas or there about, or that you have nothing to confess now. Come this week; if you put your Communion off one day beyond next Sunday you are guilty of breaking this law. If you are in mortal sin, get out of it by making a good confession and Communion; if you are not, do not fall into it by refusing to obey this most peremptory and most urgent command. Any one who has not received since Lent began, and refuses to do so on or before next Sunday, may, indeed, call himself a Catholic, but is not worthy of the name. ------------------- {276} _Trinity Sunday._ Epistle. _Romans xi._ 33-36. O the depth of the riches, of the wisdom, and of the knowledge of God! How incomprehensible are his judgments, and how unsearchable his ways! For who hath known the mind of the Lord? Or who hath been his counsellor? Or who hath first given to him, and recompense shall be made to him? For of him, and by him, and in him, are all things. To him be glory for ever. Amen. Gospel. _St. Matthew, xxviii._ 18-20. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: All power is given to me in heaven and on earth. Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations: baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you; and behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world. Last Gospel. _St. Luke vi._ 36-42. At that time, Jesus said to his disciples: Be ye merciful, as your Father also is merciful. Judge not, and you shall not be judged. Condemn not, and you shall not be condemned. Forgive, and you shall be forgiven. Give, and it shall be given to you: good measure and pressed down, and shaken together and running over, shall they give into your bosom. For with the same measure that you shall measure it shall be measured to you again. And he spoke also to them a similitude: Can the blind lead the blind? do they not both fall into the ditch? The disciple is not above his master; but every one shall be perfect, if he be as his master. {277} And why seest thou the mote in thy brother's eye, but the beam that is in thy own eye thou considerest not? or how canst thou say to thy brother, Brother, let me pull the mote out of thy eye, when thou thyself seest not the beam in thy own eye? Thou hypocrite, cast first the beam out of thy own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to take out the mote from thy brother's eye. ------------------- Sermon LXXXII. The Divine Majesty. _For of him, and by him, and in him are all things; to him be Glory for ever and ever. Amen._ --Epistle of the Day. To-day, my dear brethren, the church, having completed the round of feasts and fasts which she began on Christmas, having brought to our remembrance our Lord's birth, his holy childhood, his ministry on earth, his Passion and death, his glorious Resurrection and Ascension, and the coming of the Holy Ghost as he had promised, finally brings us into the presence of the Being by whom all these wonderful works have been accomplished, and who is the sole object of our adoration, the ever Blessed Trinity, the three Divine Persons, the one God. She bids us contemplate, so far as it is possible for us, the great and ineffable mystery into the faith of which we have been baptized, and to join with the angels and saints in the canticles of heaven, "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, who was, and who is, and who is to come." {278} "Of him, and by him, and in him are all things," says the Apostle, reminding us of this highest of all the teachings of the Christian faith. Of the Father is the Son, and by the Son is the Holy Ghost, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, and in whom is their life and mutual love. The distinction of the Divine Persons is thus intimated to us; but the Divine Nature is only one; of, by, and in that One are we and all things created. We and all the world around us are of God; not part of him, nor born of him according to nature, nor proceeding from his substance, but still of him in that we owe our being entirely to him, who drew us from nothing by his almighty power. Nothing could ever have existed outside of God himself except through the wonderful, incomprehensible act of creation. From nothing, nothing of itself could come; all things are from and of God, who created them from nothing. By his almighty power, then, we have been created, and by it now we are sustained. We could not live for a moment except by his continual support. It is only by his aid that we can draw a single breath, walk a single step, or perform the simplest act. The winds and the waters, and all the powers of nature, as we call them, are his powers, too, which he lends to us, and makes subservient to our use. And in him we live and move and are. He is nearer to us than we to ourselves. It is not only that he makes us live; it is his life by which we live; our life comes from and belongs to his eternal life. The life of God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost is in himself; ours is in him. {279} To him, then, the one and only true God, "be glory," as the Apostle says, "for ever and ever." How often we say these words, "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost," and how little do we think of what they mean! If all that we are and have is from God, by him and in him, how can we set ourselves apart from him, or claim anything for ourselves against him? How can we glory in ourselves, or desire glory from others, when all glory, praise, and honor belong of necessity to him from whom, by whom, and in whom all things are? For this is what it means when we say, "Glory be to God." Not some glory or praise or recognition of his greatness from us, as a sort of tax or tribute which we must pay to keep the rest for ourselves. No, when we have given glory to God as we should, there will be nothing left for us to keep. This is the perfection of the creature, to prostrate itself at the foot of its Creator's throne, and to cast all the crowns it has received before him that sitteth thereon, and to say with the angels and saints in heaven, "Thou art worthy, O Lord our God, to receive glory and honor and power, because thou hast created all things, and for thy will they were and have been created." ------------------- Sermon LXXXIII. The Mystery Of The Holy Trinity. _Go ye, therefore, teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost._ --St. Matthew, xxviii. 19. {280} It was the faith in the Most Holy Trinity that the Apostles were sent forth to teach throughout all the world to every creature. It is into this faith that every Christian is baptized by the invocation of the thrice-holy name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and because of this baptism he is bound to persevere all his life long in that steadfast faith in the Holy Trinity for which the church to-day teaches us to pray. Think it not strange that this doctrine should be so deep a mystery. We are surrounded on all sides by mysteries. There is scarcely a department of knowledge into which we can turn our minds where we are not met by things which we cannot understand. There is, therefore, nothing wonderful in the fact that God is the greatest mystery of all. We cannot solve the mysteries of nature and of life as we see them before us. How, then, can we expect to comprehend the nature and the inner life of God? It is not for us, with our poor, feeble minds, to ask the how or the why, but simply to bow down in humble adoration before the truth of God as he has revealed himself to us. Faith would not be the virtue that it is if everything were perfectly plain to us. The chief merit of faith is in accepting on God's authority that which is beyond our own reason. His revelation of himself to us is only partial. The full light that we are capable of receiving will not come until we are before his throne, and see him face to face, for it is only when that which is perfect shall come that that which is in part shall be done away. For now we see, as it were, through a glass, in an obscure manner, now we know but in part, but then we shall know even as we are known. Meanwhile our time of trial remains, and we must submit our minds as well as our hearts and wills to God. {281} But he has not given us this partial revelation of himself in order to perplex and worry us. He has told us all that is good and needful for us to know in our present state. We should not, therefore, fix our minds upon that which he has chosen to hide from us, but upon that which he actually has revealed to us, and we shall find in this more than enough for our love and devotion. Each Person of the Blessed Trinity has some special relation to us, and there are, therefore, special acts of love and adoration which we can pay to each. He has revealed himself to us as the Father, not only as the Father of the Eternal Son, but as our Father as well; our Father, because he has adopted us as his children. Nothing that we know on earth of a father's love can compare with the tenderness with which the Eternal Father regards his children. We, therefore, must become as little children towards him, looking up to him with love, with reverence, with simple trust, striving to fulfil his holy will in perfect obedience, knowing that he wills only our good, here and hereafter. God the Son has revealed himself to us as our Saviour and Redeemer, and because we are through him the children of God, as our Elder Brother, sharing in our human nature, having been tempted like us, and having suffered far more for our sake than we shall ever be called upon to suffer for him. Hence in all our trials, in all our temptations, in all our sufferings, we have his example to cheer us, knowing that we are but treading the steps that he trod and bearing our cross after him. His Precious Blood is still flowing through the sacraments to cleanse us from our sins, his grace is ever ready to help us in the hour of need. {282} And God the Holy Ghost is revealed to us and given to us as the life of our souls, our helper, our comforter, our sanctifier, stirring up the flame of divine love in our hearts, urging us to good deeds, and giving us the strength to perform them. We, on our part, must listen to his voice and follow his guidance, that so we may abide in the love of the Father and of the Son. Thus is the Blessed Trinity revealed to us, as Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Let us not question, but praise, adore, and love. ------------------- Sermon LXXXIV. The Divine Judgment. _And Jesus coming, spoke to them, saying: "All power is given to me in heaven and in earth." _ --Matthew, xxviii. 18. When these words were uttered by our Lord he had risen from the dead. On this occasion he had with him only the eleven Apostles, whom he had instructed to meet him by appointment at this time and in this place--a mountain in Galilee. A few words they are, but full of meaning. The Apostles saw our Lord in the flesh again; they heard his own human lips utter this truth: that all power is his in heaven and in earth. {283} How did they understand him? They understood that the Man they saw, the human being who then stood before them, was endued with all power that God would exercise in heaven and in earth; that to rule this vast universe was his right; that to sit on the throne of heaven, to be worshipped and adored as God by every creature, to shape the destiny of this world, of its many nations, of its many families, of every single soul born and to be born in it; to open and shut the gates of hell at his own will, to judge all without exception, each separately at the moment after death, and all together in the great Judgment day of God, is his right and office as the Man, because he is Man in God and God in Man; the Man selected to be the One through whom the Divine Nature manifests himself in all the fulness of the Godhead in human nature. But what, therefore, is the first thought that must enter our hearts? It is necessarily this: How will that Man receive us when we are called into his presence, one by one, as we leave this world? How will that countenance look to us at that moment? How will those ears listen to our reports of our own lives? How will those lips speak to us in that dread moment? But why do we ask ourselves these questions? Because we know that we are to meet that Man in God, face to face, to give an exact account of all of our deeds in the body, and that he is the One to praise or blame us, reward or condemn us, receive us into eternal blessedness or cast us out into eternal, never-ending darkness, and deliver us over to the rule of those who shall be our masters in hell. Can we tell what the result will be? Yes; and to a certainty! If our lives have been good, or if we die in his friendship, the Man Christ Jesus will give us a blessed and glorious welcome; but if our lives have been wicked, that Man will reject us for ever. He will not have us anywhere near him. He will not endure our presence a single moment, nor permit us to speak in his presence, nor ever again to mention his holy name, but will cast us into that region of creation where holy names are not permitted to be uttered. {284} Do we truly hope that this sad fate will not be ours? Then we are truly good, leading good lives, are faithful to our duties as good Catholics. If we truly hope for his approval we can judge ourselves now and know we shall receive it. How is this? If each one can say to-day, the last of the Easter-time, I have obeyed the commands of the church and made my Easter duty, then each soul is free from mortal sin and knows the judgment of our Lord will be in his favor. Let any such soul die at any moment now and the mercy of God is surely his, for he is now in the friendship of God, his soul is restored to its heavenly state, and every soul in this state is so acceptable to our Lord that he can not condemn it, but must welcome it to the society of those who are saved for ever. O unfaithful, negligent Catholic! whose life heretofore has been a dishonor to God, a shame to your family, a scandal to your neighbor, and a disgrace to the church of Jesus Christ, have you turned from your sins and made your peace with God this Easter-time? Have you washed your past life clean from sin by this Easter duty? Then you, too, _know_ you will receive the welcome of our Lord, the Man Christ Jesus, your King and your God. Otherwise you are still his enemy, and have a right only to his eternal wrath. How can you sleep a moment or be at rest a single instant longer while knowing you are condemned already, because you have not made your Easter duty? ------------------- {285} _Second Sunday after Pentecost._ And Sunday Within The Octave Of Corpus Christi. Epistle. 1 _St. John iii._ 13-18. Dearly beloved: Wonder not if the world hate you. We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love the brethren. He that loveth not, abideth in death. Whosoever hateth his brother, is a murderer. And you know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in himself. In this we have known the charity of God, because he hath laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. He that hath the substance of this world, and shall see his brother in need, and shall shut up his bowels from him: how doth the charity of God abide in him? My little children, let us not love in word, nor in tongue, but in deed and in truth. Gospel. _St. Luke xiv._ 16-24. At that time Jesus spoke to the Pharisees this parable: A certain man made a great supper, and invited many. And he sent his servant at supper-time to say to them that were invited that they should come, for now all things are ready. And they began all at once to make excuse. The first said to him: I have bought a farm, and I must needs go out and see it; I pray thee, have me excused. And another said: I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to try them; I pray thee, have me excused. And another said: I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come. And the servant returning, told these things to his lord. Then the master of the house, being angry, said to his servant: Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in hither the poor and the feeble, and the blind and the lame. {286} And the servant said: Lord, it is done as thou hast commanded, and yet there is room. And the lord said to the servant: Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house maybe filled. But I say unto you that none of those men that were called shall taste my supper. ------------------- Sermon LXXXV. Holy Communion. _A certain man made a great supper and invited many._ --St. Luke xiv. 16. I suppose every Catholic here to-day, except some young children, has once or many times in his life been to the "Great Supper," and eaten the "Bread of Life" which is served at it; and those little ones of the Lord's Holy Catholic family are looking forward to the bright day, to be for ever afterwards the day of sweetest memory, when they too shall have that honor and happiness--the day of their First Communion. If such be the case, what is the use of the church repeating to us every year the threat in the Gospel against those who made foolish and selfish excuses for staying away--"None of those men that were called shall taste of my supper"? We have been called. We have answered the invitation. We have been to the supper. Isn't that enough? The Gospel evidently does not apply to us. But wait a bit. I have two things for you to think about. In the first place, the calling to the Great Supper the Gospel speaks about is a standing invitation for life. By this I mean that the law of the Catholic Church obliges every one to receive Holy Communion annually--that is, during the Easter season. {287} It is then, first of all, an _annual_ invitation; and going one year is not answering the call for the next year. Every one who has learned his Catechism ought to know that. In the second place, what would you think of a near relative whom you had invited to be present at your marriage anniversary dinner, who should send for reply that he had already dined with you on the Fourth of July? This is like what people say who, when asked if they made their Easter duty, tell you, "Oh! no, I went at Christmas," or "I was at the mission." Now the _annual_ marriage supper which the King makes for his Son, and to which we are invited, is at Easter, and neither Christmas, mission time, the Forty Hours, nor the Fourth of July will do, unless, indeed, the mission or the Forty Hours took place in the Paschal season. The second thing I want you to think about is that the invitation to partake of the "Great Supper" of Holy Communion, whether at Easter or at any other time, is a call to make what is known as a _worthy_ Communion; that is, you must be absolved from sin and thus be yourself worthy. That is requisite, and that is enough. There are some scrupulous people who fancy that they themselves have got to do beforehand all that the Communion is intended to do and will do. Who is it that prepares the Supper, they or the Lord? If they will do the little that is asked of them, they can safely leave to the Lord the responsibility of doing his part. A _worthy_ Communion should also be one that is worth something to the one receiving it, and should not be a worthless exterior performance, which has no interior act of communion in the heart to correspond to it. {288} And now this kind of worth of each and every Communion depends upon what the communicant chooses to make it. All is to be had that God can give. The means of getting the good from Communion is one and the same means for getting the good in receiving other sacraments--that is, prayer. Prayer beforehand, prayer daring it, prayer afterwards. The more you want and the more you ask of, the more worth will your Communion be. Suppose our Lord should suddenly quit the sacramental form of the host and ask a communicant at the altar-rail, "What do you wish for?" and he should answer, "I don't know; I never thought of asking for anything," you would reasonably conclude that he was not likely to receive very much. Now, I hope you who often come to the holy table are paying attention to this. If you come often, it is supposed, and justly supposed, that you want a good deal, and that you are deeply in earnest about obtaining what you desire. Much as, I am sure, your Communions are worth to you, I wish you would set about making them worth still more. In a word, you must think more about what you need. Get your requests ready. Have them, as it were, well by heart, so that if the Lord should ask you what you came for, your reply would come out quick and earnest enough. Of all privileges and honors, in this world, receiving Holy Communion is, indeed, something for us Catholics to boast of. How the "outsiders" envy us our faith and the comfort it brings to us!--the infidels of every name and kind, the Protestants and others, who either have no Communion, or at best a sham one. {289} How would you like to have yourself thrust aside and one of them called by the Lord to take your place at his table? Beware, then, how you treat his invitation; come as often and be as well prepared as the Spirit of Divine Love shall inspire you. ------------------- Sermon LXXXVI. The Sacred Heart Of Jesus. The month of June has, as you know, my brethren, been set apart by general consent for devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, as that of May has in the same way been devoted to our Blessed Lady; and on next Friday, the day following the octave of Corpus Christi, the church solemnly celebrates the Feast of the Sacred Heart. This feast, formerly observed only in some places, has for about thirty years been kept everywhere. As the devotion to the Sacred Heart has of late spread so widely in the church, and is so plainly pleasing to God and most salutary to us, it is well that we should understand it clearly, that we may enter into it more fully. In the first place, then, we will ask, What is the nature of the worship which we render to the Sacred Heart of Jesus? And, secondly, Why is it specially selected as the object of our devotion? What, then, is the nature of our worship of the Sacred Heart? It is, of course, the same as that which we pay to our Lord himself--that is, the worship which is due to him as God the Son, the second Person of the Blessed Trinity. {290} His human nature, united to the divine nature in one Person, is truly worthy of divine worship and honor. God, having become man, his human heart is the heart of God, and must be adored as such. Let us, then, remember this: the devotion to the Sacred Heart is one that is given to God himself, just as that is which we have for the Blessed Sacrament in which he resides on our altars. But why do we select the Heart of our Lord, or rather why has he himself selected it, as a special object of our adoration? I say, why has he himself selected it? for this devotion to the Sacred Heart in modern times is due specially to a revelation made by our Lord to the Blessed Margaret Mary, a nun of the Visitation, two centuries ago. In answer to this question we may say that our Lord's Heart is the fountain of his Precious Blood, which was shed for our salvation, and was pierced by the lance, like his hands and feet by the nails, on the cross; and it is in this way specially pointed out as the object of our gratitude and love. But even a more urgent reason is that the heart is a natural symbol of love, agreed on by universal consent at all times and in all parts of the world, and therefore that the Heart of Jesus most perfectly represents his love for us. In adoring the Sacred Heart, then, we adore in a particular manner the love of Christ for sinners; and it is for this reason that he has given us this devotion, knowing that it is only by the thought of the love of his Heart for us that our hearts can be won to the love of him. {291} Yes, my brethren, God wishes our love; it was to obtain it that he became one of us and died for us on the cross; and it is to win it now that he asks us to remember and to adore his Sacred Heart. "Let us therefore," says St. John, "love God, because God first hath loved us." This is the spirit of this devotion: that we should not try to save our souls merely for the fear of hell, but that, seeing how much God has loved us, we should love him in return. And also that, seeing how much he has loved our brethren, the same fire of divine charity may be kindled in our hearts, and thus each one of us may do our share to carry on and to complete the work for which he shed his Precious Blood: the bringing of the world to the knowledge and love of him. ------------------- Sermon LXXXVII. Ingratitude. _A certain man made a great supper, and invited many. ... And they began all at once to make excuse._ --Gospel of the Day. You know, my dear brethren, the parable given by our Divine Lord in the Gospel of to-day. The principal point of it is in the words which you have just heard. The guests who were invited to the supper, instead of feeling honored by the invitation and accepting it gladly, began to make one excuse or another; one had his farm, one his oxen, and another had just married a wife. None of these reasons would have prevented them from coming to the supper had they really wished to; they were mere flimsy pretexts put forward to hide their indifference to their host and to all that he had to offer them. {292} You know this parable, and I think you also know well its meaning. As our Saviour uttered it the coldness and ingratitude of those whom he had come to save rose up before him, giving him a foretaste of the agony which was afterward to overwhelm and crush him in the garden of Gethsemani. His heart, burning with love for men, longed and thirsted for love in return; it was all he asked; could he but have had that all the pains of his sorrowful life and terrible death would have been as nothing. But no; he foresaw that, after all, those to whom he stretched out his arms on the cross in loving invitation would, for the most part, turn a deaf ear to his appeal; would give him at the best but a reluctant and half-hearted service; would keep as much as possible for themselves, and give as little as possible to him. And, in particular, he foresaw that the crowning gift which he had in store for his rebellious and ungrateful children--his own Body and Blood, which he was to leave them in the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar, and in which he was to remain with them even after his work was done and the time come for him to return to his Father--would be rejected by the greater part even of Christians with the same indifference with which his other sacrifices were to be met. He saw himself in our churches, unwelcomed and almost unknown by the most of those whom he loved to call his friends. He saw that, though for a time in the first fervors of faith, when the sword of persecution drove those to his side who were not overcome by it, he would, as he desired, indeed be the daily bread of his people, yet there would come a day when that faith would be dimmed, and the love which sprang from it would grow cold. He knew that an age would come when--shame to say it--his church would have to force her children by strict laws and threats of excommunication to receive him in the sacrament of his love even once a year. {293} And he knew that, in spite of all this urging, many still would excuse themselves from the divine banquet, offered so freely to, nay, almost forced upon, them; that millions every year would miss their Easter duty; would either turn from the bread of life to the food of swine by deliberate choice, or at least would, on some frivolous pretext, put off the time of their reconciliation till the last day appointed for it had gone by. Alas! my dear brethren, children of this God and Father who has done so much for us, I fear that some even of you who hear my words have once more thus grieved his heart and despised his love. In all this long time of Lent and Easter which, has just gone by you have missed the duty to which the most sacred and solemn of all the laws of the church has called you. But still our Lord has not yet treated you as you have treated him. He has not yet said to you, as the host said in the parable: "None of you that were invited shall taste of my supper." No; once more, in this great festival of Corpus Christi, he makes yet another appeal to you, to put aside your excuses, and to come to him with all your heart and soul. Do not, I beseech you, continue to insult and despise him who thus humbles himself before you, and still tries to remind you of his goodness and mercy. Come to him without delay, and make amends for your past neglect; all will be forgiven and forgotten. But remember, if tempted to reject him once more, and to postpone your return, that even his infinite mercy will at last have to yield to his justice; that his loving Spirit cannot strive with you for ever. ------------------- {294} _Third Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 1 _St. Peter v._ 6-11. Dearly beloved: Be you humbled under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in the time of visitation. Casting all your solicitude upon him, for he hath care of you. Be sober and watch; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour. Whom resist ye, strong in faith: knowing that the same affliction befalleth your brethren who are in the world. But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory in Christ Jesus, when you have suffered a little, will himself perfect, and confirm, and establish you. To him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen. Gospel. _St. Luke xv._ 1-10. At that time: The publicans and sinners drew near unto Jesus to hear him. And the Pharisees and the Scribes murmured, saying: This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. And he spoke to them this parable, saying: What man among you that hath a hundred sheep: and if he shall lose one of them, doth he not leave the ninety-nine in the desert, and go after that which was lost until he find it? And when he hath found it, doth he not lay it upon his shoulders rejoicing: and coming home call together his friends and neighbors, saying to them: Rejoice with me, because I have found my sheep that was lost. I say to you, that even so there shall be joy in heaven upon one sinner that doth penance, more than upon ninety-nine just who need not penance. Or what woman having ten groats, if she lose one groat, doth not light a candle and sweep the house and seek diligently until she find it? And when she hath found it, call together her friends and neighbors, saying: Rejoice with me, because I have found the groat which I had lost. So I say to you, there shall be joy before the angels of God upon one sinner doing penance. ------------------- {295} Sermon LXXXVIII. Sinful Amusements. _Be sober and watch, because your adversary the devil as a roaring lion goeth about, seeking whom he may devour._ --Epistle of the Day. I need not tell you, dear brethren, that there is nothing more contrary to the spirit of our holy religion than melancholy. The church would not have her children long-faced and mopish, eschewing all pleasure as a thing sinful; nor would she have them unhappy by depriving them of what is good and forbidding what is innocent, but like a wise mother she permits, nay, sanctions, harmless amusements, knowing that this, far from being an impediment to us in our efforts after holiness, is rather a help. But, unfortunately, all pleasures are not innocent. There are some which are sinful--very sinful--and which, instead of aiding us by begetting a holy gladness, fill us with remorse and rob the soul of the grace of God, which is the principle of all our joy. Such pleasures as these the church forbids; such as these she would have us avoid, and she warns us that they come not from God, but from our adversary the devil, who is seeking our ruin. It is with regret that we say it, still we say it with truth, that of late years a very dangerous sort of amusement has taken more or less hold upon numbers of our young people, and, now that we are at the beginning of summer, it may not be amiss to say a word or two about a certain sort of "picnics." {296} It is hard to conceive how a young man or woman, who wishes to be deemed respectable, or even to preserve self-respect, can attend any of those _moonlight_ gatherings known as picnics, festivals, etc. Call them by what name you please, as a whole they are bad. The places where these meetings are held, the persons whom you cannot avoid coming in contact with, make them dangerous at least, and very frequently a real occasion of sin. How can a young girl know the character of him with whom she is dancing? She has been introduced, to be sure, but what of that? Does she feel quite certain that she may not be subjected to insult or worse? Is she satisfied that her mother would be pleased to see her with her present companions? Is she not engaged in a dance which borders on immodesty? Take care, my good girl, you have taken your first downward step to-night; retrace your way, and never be found at such a "festival" as this again, if you value your good name. Nor can young men attend these "moonlight rural gatherings" without endangering their fair fame and interests. A pure woman will not marry a man who consorts with bad characters. She will not trust herself to the tender mercies of one who reaches home in the early morning in a half or wholly drunken state. She cannot look forward to a happy life with one of this character, and she will not encourage his attentions. Employers are not over-anxious to have in their service those who come to their occupations with evident marks of debauchery. {297} They believe that young men of this sort are not efficient, and they believe so rightly; they think that these are not altogether trustworthy; that they are constantly exposing themselves to danger and theft. It does not pay, young men, to go to "moonlight picnics." It is not to your interest, either temporal or spiritual. Do not be carried away with the idea that you can be dissipated with impunity. "Be sober and watch" yourselves, remembering that a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and certainly to be preferred to the gross pleasures of moonlight orgies. ------------------- Sermon LXXXIX. Divine Providence. _Casting all your solicitude upon him, for he hath care of you._ --1 St. Peter v. 7. The doctrine of God's providence is one of those great truths which, though accepted by every Christian, are often not apprehended practically in everyday life. By the providence of God we mean that loving care which he takes of all his creatures, and especially of man, ruling, guiding, and protecting them, "ordering all things sweetly," as holy Scripture has it, that each one of his creatures may attain to the end for which it was given existence. {298} God's work does not stop with creation. It would be absurd to suppose that he made all things and then left them to take care of themselves. On the contrary, we know that his sustaining power is necessary in order to keep us in existence at all, and that if he were to withdraw his sustaining hand from us we should at once fall back into the nothingness from whence we came. But God's providence over us means something far more than simply keeping us alive. It enters into every circumstance of our life. Whatever befalls us, day by day, is with his permission, is in accordance with his holy will. Whether he blesses us or smites us, it is all the same: everything comes from his loving providence, and is intended for our good. Our Lord's teaching concerning the providence of God is very clear and plain. He tells us that God cares for the lilies of the field and for the birds of the air, so that not one of them is forgotten before God; and, he adds, "Are not you of much more value than they?" For "even the very hairs of your head are all numbered." "O ye of little faith!" he still says to us, "why are you so slow and dull of heart to understand? Why will you not see the hand of God directing the whole course of your life?" Men go on in their carelessness, unmindful of God, taking the good things that come to them as a matter of course, or as the result of their own labor, forgetting that every good and perfect gift is from above. But God does not forget them. In spite of their indifference, he still watches over them, providing them with all things needful for their souls and bodies, and with his grace ever seeking to lead them to him. How many, too, spend their time in foolishly worrying over their petty trials! It is all owing to a lack of faith; they refuse to recognize God's hand in their daily life. Yet again and again our Lord and his Apostles repeat the exhortation, "Be not solicitous"--that is, do not worry--"casting all your solicitude upon him, for he careth for you." {299} But it is especially in the great trials of life that the doctrine of God's providence is necessary for us, and full of consolation, and perhaps it is at just such times that it is the most often forgotten. When some heavy trouble comes, how often does the sufferer fail to acknowledge that it is sent by Almighty God--that is, an ordering of his providence, and therefore to be submitted to with patience and humility. "Dearly beloved," says St. Peter in the Epistle of to-day, "be you humbled under the mighty hand of God." To be humble is to acknowledge our true position in God's sight, to confess that we are his creatures altogether in his power, and that he has the right to do with us as he pleases. Our faith assures us that he will not use this right to our disadvantage. Away, then, with all silly murmurings and complaints that God is unjust. Good sense alone will teach that that cannot be. If you understood the full extent of the malice of even venial sin you would see that you receive but a small part of what you really deserve. Follow, then, the counsel of Solomon, and "reject not the correction of the Lord, and faint not when thou art chastised by him; for whom the Lord loveth he chastiseth." But if the burden seem too hard for you to bear alone, Jesus is ready to help you. "Come to me," he says, "all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you." Go to him in the Blessed Sacrament, pour out your grief to the Sacred Heart, and you shall find rest for your soul. "Cast thy care upon the Lord," said David in the Psalms, "and he shall sustain thee." {300} Then, having humbled yourself under the mighty hand of God, he will exalt you in the time of his visitation and fill you with his peace. And "the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory in Christ Jesus, _when you have suffered a little_, will himself perfect, and confirm, and establish you. To him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen." ------------------- Sermon XC. How To Bear Burdens. _Cast thy care upon the Lord and he shall sustain thee._ --Gradual of the Mass. Which of us, dear brethren, is without his burden or his care? Whatever our station in life, however high or lowly we may be, to each comes his portion of sorrow, to each come difficulties and temptations. If we escape one trial we are sure to find another, and probably a worse one, awaiting us. It is our lot here upon earth to suffer, and we ought to expect nothing else, for if we hope for perfect happiness in this world we are doomed to bitterest disappointment. The way in which to carry ourselves with regard to our difficulties is not to seek to avoid them, or when they come upon us to run away from them, but to accept them as the portion of our heritage and to make them a source of merit and sanctification. If we would but cast our care upon the Lord, if we would but willingly submit to what his all-wise providence designs for us, these apparent miseries would become for us real blessings and bring upon us the choicest of God's gifts--an increase of his holy grace in our souls. God will help us sustain our burden if we receive it with resignation; if we love it he will make it even sweet to bear. {301} But, you may say, this doctrine is very pretty in theory. How about the practice of it? It is not so easy to be indifferent to the things of this life, to the wants of the body, so as to be quite as willing to be poor as to be rich, to have a good, substantial meal or a morsel of cold victuals. People cannot be expected to prefer misery to happiness. We are not asking you to prefer misery to happiness, nor even to be indifferent as to what shall happen you. Although this would be far more perfect and would soon make him who had such disposition very holy, still we do not ask so much. What we would wish you to do is what we think all are bound to do--namely, to have confidence in the providence of God; to recognize his hand guiding the course of events in our behalf. We know that he is good and merciful and ready to help us in our need; we know that even when he punishes it is not so much in anger as in love that he does so; yet we complain and are discontented, and some even go so far as to blaspheme the God who, at the very moment when we are treating him with such indignity, is lovingly working all things together unto good, who is doing for them more than they would ever hope for. Oh! what pride is theirs, who set up their judgment against God's and insist upon the Almighty doing things according to their fancy. They see no reason why they should suffer this or that. Why should they be treated so harshly? Other people have comfort; why should not they? {302} Oh! what folly, what blindness is there in the hearts of men and women who speak thus! What ingratitude is theirs! Perhaps the God they are abusing has forgiven them hundreds of mortal sins; perhaps he is withholding what they are demanding because he sees if he granted them the things they ask their salvation would be endangered; yet all that he is doing in loving kindness is being misunderstood, because men are unwilling to bow down to the holy and adorable will of God. Dear brethren, let it not be said of us that we are ingrates or that we are so foolish as to think ourselves wiser than God; but let us turn to him with all our hearts and recognize in all he sends us his unspeakable mercy; let us ever see in him the All-wise God, our Father, and never permit ourselves to be deceived by the rebellion of our lower nature. Let us, in a word, "cast all our care upon the Lord." ------------------- {303} _Fourth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Romans. viii._ 18-23. Brethren: I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come, that shall be revealed in us. For the expectation of the creature waiteth for the revelation of the sons of God. For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him that made it subject, in hope: because the creature also itself shall be delivered from the servitude of corruption into the liberty of the glory of the children of God. For we know that every creature groaneth, and is in labor even till now. And not only it, but ourselves also, who have the first-fruits of the spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption of the sons of God, the redemption of our body, in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. Luke v._ 1-11. At that time: When the multitudes pressed upon Jesus to hear the word of God, he stood by the lake of Genesareth. And he saw two ships standing by the lake: but the fishermen were gone out of them, and were washing their nets. And going up into one of the ships that was Simon's, he desired him to thrust out a little from the land. And sitting down, he taught the multitudes out of the ship. Now when he had ceased to speak, he said to Simon: Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught. And Simon answering, said to him: Master, we have labored all the night and have taken nothing: but at thy word I will let down the net. And when they had done this, they enclosed a very great multitude of fishes, and their net was breaking. {304} And they beckoned to their partners that were in the other ship, that they should come and help them. And they came, and filled both the ships, so that they were almost sinking; which when Simon Peter saw, he fell down at Jesus knees, saying: Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord. For he was wholly astonished, and all that were with him, at the draught of the fishes which they had taken. And so were also James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were Simon's partners. And Jesus saith to Simon: Fear not, from henceforth thou shalt be taking men. And when they had brought their ships to land, leaving all things, they followed him. ------------------- Sermon XCI. How To Suffer. _Brethren: I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come, that shall be revealed in us. _ --Epistle of the Day. I think, my brethren, that there are few good and faithful Christians who do not have, as they journey through life, a fair share of crosses, trials, and sufferings. Sometimes these crosses are not noticed much by other people, but they are heavy enough for those who have to bear them. The priest hears more of the troubles of the world, as well as of its sins, than any one else; misery is a very old story to him; and he has his own trials, too, in plenty, though many think that in his state of life he has mostly avoided them. Yes, trouble and suffering seem to be, and indeed they really are, the rule of life for Christians, happiness rather the exception; unless we are willing to get what some call happiness by disregarding the law of God. {305} Now this is a very unpleasant fact; but it is a fact, and we have to accept it. But how shall we best do so? That is a point which it will be well to consider. Shall we simply take our trouble because we cannot help it, and fret as little as we can, because fretting only makes it worse? Or shall we take comfort by thinking that others are in the same plight as ourselves; by believing, though perhaps we cannot see it, that our luck, though hard, is not harder than that of most of those around us? These would be two pretty good ways of getting along for one who had no better. But it would be a shame for us to fall back on them. One who has faith should be able to find a better way than either of these. "Yes," you may say, "I know what you mean; a Christian ought to be resigned to God's holy will. We are taught and we believe that all things come to us by the providence of God; that he is all-wise and infinitely good; so, when he sends us anything hard to bear, we must say, 'Thy will be done,' and know by faith that it is for the best." Now I do not want to say anything against this way of bearing trouble; it is a good way, and it is a Christian way; none more so. And perhaps some times it is the only one that will seem possible. But after all it is not exactly what I mean, or it is not at any rate all that I mean; and it is not what the great Apostle St. Paul, whose glorious and triumphant death, after a life of suffering, we commemorate with that of St. Peter to-day, meant in those immortal words which I just read. {306} "I reckon," says he, "that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come, that shall be revealed in us." That is his consolation. "We have," he says to us, "a little to suffer here, but what is it after all? A drop, bitter it is true, but still only a drop, against an eternal torrent of joy with which God is going to overwhelm our souls. Truly it is not worthy to be compared in its passing bitterness to the ocean of delight of which it is the earnest for the future. It is, in fact, the little price which we have to pay for that future; and it is not worth speaking of when we think what it will bring." Indeed, my brethren, it must be a matter of astonishment to the angels, it ought to be so to us, that we think so little of the heaven which God has prepared for us. We profess to believe in it; we do believe in it; but we seem to forget all about it. We can have it if we will; moreover, these very crosses and trials, if we have them, are a sign that our Lord means almost to force it on us. Let us, then, think more of heaven; meditate on it, look forward to it. The thought of heaven was the joy and strength of the martyrs; why should it not be the constant support of ordinary Christians, too? ------------------- Sermon XCII. Good Works Done In Mortal Sin. _Master, we have labored all the night, and have taken nothing._ --Gospel of the Day. {307} The Gospel of to-day tells us, my dear brethren, how St. Peter and his companions, after wearying themselves with dragging their heavy nets the whole night, had caught nothing for all their pains; and how, as soon as our Lord appeared, and they were able to work with his guidance and help, they took more fish than their boats would hold. There is a most important spiritual lesson contained in this simple story. This miraculous draught of fish is, as it were, a parable, acted out instead of told by our Divine Saviour. And its meaning is this: that those who work in the night of the soul which is caused by mortal sin have indeed much trouble, sorrow, and labor, but it is all for nothing. All that they do and suffer while remaining in this state counts for nothing in their favor in the eternal account of God. Whereas, on the other hand, the slightest action of one who is in the state of grace, and who, therefore, works in union with Christ, has attached to it a great and imperishable glory in the kingdom of heaven. St. Paul also teaches us this quite explicitly. "If I should distribute," says he, "all my goods to feed the poor, and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not charity" (that is, the love of God, which makes the state of grace), "it profiteth me nothing." Whereas, on the other hand, he says, for himself and others who are united to God by grace, that "what is at present momentary and light of our tribulation worketh for us above measure exceedingly an eternal weight of glory." This is, I say, my brethren, a most important truth. Do you fairly understand it? Do you take in its full meaning and application? Let us look at and study it as much as possible in these few minutes; then let us take it home with us, meditate on it, and make it thoroughly our own. {308} All of us have our labors, trials, and pains; some arc heavily burdened with them. To work and to suffer is the lot of all, from which there is no escape. We cannot avoid our destiny; we must make the best of it. Yes, that is just it; we must make the best of it; if we have any prudence, any true love or care for our happiness, we will make the best of it, and not the worst. Why suffer this poverty, this sickness, this worry and distress of mind? Why do all this hard work? Why go through all these long and weary days, and get nothing in reward for all our labor and suffering but the mere means with which to keep up this painful and toilsome life, and to sweeten it, perhaps, with some fleeting sensual pleasures? Why not have something to show for all our trouble at the end of our time here on earth? Why not make it, as we may, into a crown to take with us into that life which has no end? This is what those do who remain in the grace of God, who commit no mortal sin, or who, if they ever fall into it, repent and free themselves from it with out delay. All their pains and all their labors are recorded in heaven, and treasured up to be woven into a crown of merit for such as persevere to the end. God is with them, as with St. Peter on the lake of Genesareth; they work for him, and in the light of his presence, and their slightest actions obtain a rich reward. But those who foolishly think that to remain thus is a task beyond their strength, who pass their lives in mortal sin, and only seldom and for a short time rise from it, have the same trouble; and at the end, if indeed they come to God then and enter heaven, being saved as by fire, they find no treasure of good works gone before them. "Master," they have to say, "we have worked all night and have taken nothing. We have worked in the night of sin all our life." {309} Let us not, then, follow their example. Let us not run their fearful risk of not obtaining salvation at all; and let us also determine that when we are saved we will have a life well filled with the fruits of grace to lay at our Saviour's feet, for which we may merit to hear him say: "Well done, good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." ------------------- Sermon XCIII. Fishing For Men. _Master, we have labored all the night, and have taken nothing._ St. Peter was without doubt a good fisherman, and a patient one, as all good fishermen are. He was content to fish all night with such poor luck as to catch nothing at all. But after he had taken our Lord on board his ship it seemed as if all the fish in the lake were anxious to be caught. Such a wonderful haul was made that St. Peter and all the other fishermen were dumfounded with astonishment. How mightily they were all pleased may well be imagined. Now, I think there is in our day something going on very like St. Peter's fishing all night and catching no fish. The Catholic Church is the ship of Peter, and he who exercises the authority of master in that ship, together with his mates and other officers, are holding the place which St. Peter was exalted to when our Lord made him the master fisherman of men. That is, the Holy Father, the pope, the bishops and priests are fishing for men, and our Lord promised that they should catch them, too. {310} In a certain degree, also, everyone on board Peter's ship--all Catholics--have to do with this great work--the spreading out the nets and drawing souls into the true church. For some time there have been some efforts made to catch a certain kind of fish known as _Protestants_, and there is another sort, also becoming common in these waters of ours, called _Infidels_. And it seems to me that there has been a good deal of fishing all night long, and not half the haul made that was hoped for. We feel like repeating St. Peter's complaint --"Lord, we have labored all the night and taken nothing." The fishermen know their business, and they have worked hard. No trouble on that score. When may we hope that the promise of our Lord will be fulfilled and labor shall be crowned with success? I'll tell you. It will be after Christ has taught his divine doctrine from the ship, and when he can say to us, "Now let down your nets." If there is anything both true and astonishing it is the prevailing ignorance of their own or of any other religion among Protestants and infidels. You would think that, among so many learned and well-to-do people who have every advantage of education and general information at hand, they would not only know what they believed, but also the reasons why. {311} They make a great boast of knowing, some of them, all the _good_ that there is in the Bible, and others all of what they call absurdities and contradictions in the holy volume. You need not be afraid of all this supposed knowledge. In fact, some read the Bible very little, and great numbers of them don't hear half of what the majority of us Catholics hear in church. Catechize them, and it will soon appear that they are densely ignorant of all religion. How can we hope that such people will admire all the beauties of our faith, and appreciate all the powerful and logical arguments in favor of this or that truth, who are so lacking in information about the very rudiments of religion? I meet such people frequently, who are, nevertheless, regular hearers and worshippers of the best preachers of our day, or who pick up here and there some sayings of the pretentious philosopher of the hour. Christ must teach this multitude from the ship of Peter, and he will do so when he can say of us, "Whoso heareth you, heareth me"--that is, when you and I so live up to our faith that when they hear us they hear a Christ speak, and when what we speak is for their instruction and suited to their great ignorance of divine things. We must be simple and plain in our instructions when directed to them. Moreover, we must thrust this instruction of the first things every Christian (be he child or man) ought to know upon them in all charity; and be quick about it, for without it they will be in imminent peril of losing their souls. They are good enough according to what they know. They, like the best of us, love truth, and are really hungering for what is unquestionably for their greater happiness. {312} Oh! if we Catholics would only live like Christ and speak like Christ, then it would be high time to let down the net. Protestants and infidels would rush in crowds to be taken. Priests would not know where to find room for the converts. Enter into the work of spreading Christian doctrine, then. Buy Catholic books of instruction. Buy a good many and give away a good many. It may set them thinking. And the reading of good, plain instructions, like the simple words of our Lord, will set them to praying as well. When a Protestant or an infidel once begins to pray to know the truth, it will be sure to lead him into the net that is let down from St. Peter's ship, only too happy to be numbered among those taken by the divinely-appointed fishers of men. ------------------- {313} _Fifth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 1 _St. Peter iii_. 8-15. Dearly beloved: Be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, loving brotherhood, merciful, modest, humble: not rendering evil for evil, nor railing for railing, but on the contrary, blessing: for unto this are you called, that by inheritance you may possess a blessing. "For he that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile. Let him decline from evil, and do good: let him seek peace, and pursue it: because the eyes of the Lord are upon the just, and his ears unto their prayers: but the countenance of the Lord against them that do evil things." And who is he that can hurt you, if you be zealous of good? But if also you suffer any thing for justice sake, blessed are ye. And be not afraid of their terror and be not troubled; but sanctify the Lord Christ in your heart. Gospel. _St. Matthew v._ 20-24. At that time Jesus said to his disciples: I say to you, that unless your justice abound more than that of the Scribes and Pharisees, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. You have heard that it was said to them of old: Thou shalt not kill. And whosoever shall kill shall be guilty of the judgment. But I say to you, that whosoever is angry with his brother, shall be guilty of the judgment. And whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be guilty of the council. And whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be guilty of hell fire. Therefore if thou offerest thy gift at the altar, and there shalt remember that thy brother hath anything against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and first go to be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift. ------------------- {314} Sermon XCIV. Forgiveness Of Injuries. _If therefore thou offer thy gift at the altar, and there thou remember that thy brother hath anything against thee, leave there thy offering before the altar, and go first to be reconciled to thy brother; and then coming, thou shalt offer thy gift._ --Gospel of the Day. There are few things in common life, my dear brethren, more surprising than the fact that some people seem to consider themselves good Christians, and well worthy to receive the sacraments, who have a grudge against some of their neighbors and never speak to them; perhaps never answer, even if spoken to by them. These people seem to think, I say, that they are worthy to receive the sacraments; and this not only at Easter, but, it may be, quite frequently. Some of them, I fear, consider themselves to be pious and devout; they say, it may be, long prayers every night and perhaps also in the morning--though, if they really thought of the words on their lips, I do not know how they could get through one Our Father. "As we forgive those who trespass against us" ought to stick in their throats. They will not speak to those persons who, as they think, have trespassed against them; they wish, then, that God should have nothing to say to themselves. "Forgive us," they say to him, "_as we forgive;_ we will not speak to others, so do not thou speak to us; turn thy back on us, pass us by; that is what we do to our neighbors. {315} Cut us off from thy friendship, send us to hell"; that is what every Our Father means in the mouth of these detestable hypocrites when they say, "Forgive as we forgive." How these people get through their confession and receive absolution is as surprising as that they should make the attempt to do so. They are caught, no doubt, once in a while, but it is to be feared that a large proportion of them slip through the priest's fingers, either by saying nothing about the sinful disposition in which they are or by telling a lie to the Holy Ghost and to their own hearts, if they would but examine them, by putting all the fault on the other party. When the other party appears, then we come nearer to the truth. "I spoke to So-and-so," they say, "but got no answer." Now, let it be distinctly understood that to refuse to answer any one who speaks to us with a good intention; to take no notice of a word or a salute, given with a view to renewing friendship, or even out of ordinary politeness, is, in almost every case, a mortal sin. Of course I do not mean that is so when the omission comes from inattention or carelessness; no, I mean when it is intended as a cut to the other party. About the only instance in which it can be allowed is that of a superior, who has a right to take the matter in his own hands, and can put off reconciliation for a time without danger. A father, for instance, may keep his child at a distance for a while in this way as a punishment for an evident offence; but I am speaking of equals, one of whom can have no right to punish the other. {316} But you may say: "This person has injured me grievously. He or she ought to beg my pardon." Perhaps this is so; though often, if you could see your own heart and that of the other as God sees them, you ought to beg pardon as much as he or she. It is rare that an unprovoked injury is done by any one consciously and without what seems a pretty good excuse to himself. But even granting that the injury is really grievous and unprovoked, do you expect your neighbor to go down on his knees to you, or to humble himself by a formal apology, not knowing how it will be taken? Would you find it easy to do such a thing yourself, however guilty? No, by turning him off in this way you put the balance of injury against yourself, however great may have been the other's offence. No one should dare to go to Communion after such a slight unatoned for. And yet even brothers and sisters have done such things, and, I fear, received Christ's Body and Blood with this sin on their souls. Let us have, then, no more of this. If one is not willing to be in charity with his or her neighbor, let him or her not come to confession, or at least, if coming, take care to state the matter as it really is. "Go first and be reconciled with thy brother; and then, coming, thou shalt offer thy gift." ------------------- Sermon XCV. Feast Of SS. Peter And Paul. {317} To-day, my brethren, holy church celebrates the Feast of SS. Peter and Paul, one the prince of the Apostles, the other the great teacher of the Gentiles. Their glorious martyrdom took place the same day in the imperial city of Rome. A glorious victory indeed was their death, one being crucified, head downwards, the other beheaded, sealing thus with their blood that invincible faith in our Lord and in his religion which has made them fit to be cornerstones of his spiritual temple. Besides their faith, they were most distinguished for confidence in God. The two virtues, faith and hope, of course, blended together in their souls, borrowed from each other, and in the fire of heavenly love were melted into one. Yet confidence in God, or the virtue of hope, was the very impulse that set them forth to preach, gave them their gift of miracles, and led them out at last with the deepest joy to offer up the sacrifice of their lives. And it was by such heroic trust in God that our holy church was founded. The beginnings of the true religion may be summed up by saying that God sent out men who were willing to stake their lives upon his fidelity to his promises. The soil on which our Saviour planted the true vine was watered by the blood of martyrs. The Breviary speaks of the blood of our two great Apostles as the purple robe of immortal Rome. And their virtue of implicit, instinctive confidence in God's love for us and for his church is the spiritual garment every Christian puts on when he is made a member of Christ. Looking across all those centuries, my brethren, and contemplating the martyrdom of SS. Peter and Paul, our hearts should be strengthened. What are the trials of the church now compared to those at the very beginning? {318} We lament, indeed, that St. Peter's successor is a captive in his own house, and also that in many regions of the world the true faith of the Apostles has to struggle for its very life. Yet the struggles of the church are now those of a giant, are against a world in great part doubtful of its own cause; struggles which make us only the more evidently pleasing to God, as they are gradually forcing us to strip ourselves of every human help and practise the Apostolic virtue of trust in God alone. "Some upon horses and some upon chariots, but we call upon the name of the Lord." Oh! when we come to realize that the welfare of the church is not in numbers, or in fine buildings, or in the wealth and power of Catholics, but only and entirely in the practice of the virtues of our religion, we shall not have long to wait for the triumph of the truth. When the vast world-power that we call the Catholic religion was (seemingly) but the frantic experiment of a handful of men, just then it won its noblest victories. Heathenism could not be voted down nor fought down; nor did God send earthquakes and floods to cleanse the earth of its foulness. The men who founded our faith won the victory because they were penetrated with the conviction that the Maker and Governor of mankind was their Lord, and that Jesus Christ, his Son, would never swerve from his plighted word. Such, then, brethren, is the virtue I bid you learn from the example of SS. Peter and Paul: confidence in God. Learn that and it will teach you all. How the value of prayer is shown forth by this virtue; how the practice of patience is commended; how the purely spiritual side of religion is brought forward by trust in God! {319} And to you of this church it is especially proposed to cultivate this Apostolic virtue. For is not your church named for St. Paul? And is he not associated every way, historically and in the devotions of our religion, with the prince of the Apostles, St. Peter? They are our first fruits; they are most closely joined to Christ, the root of the spiritual tree of life. St. Paul says: "For if the first fruit be holy, so is the mass also; and if the root be holy, so are the branches." ------------------- {320} _Sixth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Romans vi._ 3-11. Brethren: We all, who are baptized in Christ Jesus, are baptized in his death. For we are buried together with him by baptism unto death: that as Christ is risen from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also may walk in newness of life. For if we have been planted together in the likeness of his death, in like manner we shall be of his resurrection. Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin may be destroyed, and that we may serve sin no longer. For he that is dead is justified from sin. Now if we be dead with Christ, we believe that we shall live also together with Christ: knowing that Christ rising again from the dead, dieth now no more, death shall no more have dominion over him. For in that he died to sin, he died once: but in that he liveth, he liveth unto God. So do you also reckon yourselves to be dead indeed to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. Mark viii._ 1-9. At that time: When there was a great multitude with Jesus, and had nothing to eat, calling his disciples together, he saith to them: I have compassion on the multitude, for behold they have now been with me three days, and have nothing to eat. And if I send them away fasting to their own houses, they will faint in the way, for some of them came from afar off. And his disciples answered him: From whence can any one satisfy them here with bread in the wilderness? And he asked them: How many loaves have ye? And they said: Seven. And he commanded the people to sit down on the ground, and taking the seven loaves, giving thanks, he broke, and gave to his disciples to set before them, and they set them before the people. {321} And they had a few little fishes, and he blessed them and commanded them to be set before them. And they did eat and were filled, and they took up that which was left of the fragments, seven baskets. And they that had eaten were about four thousand: and he sent them away. ------------------- Sermon XCVI. The Divine Bounty. _And they did eat and were filled, and they took up that which was left of the fragments, seven baskets._ --St. Mark viii. 8. The Gospel to-day tells us of the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, whereby our Lord fed the multitude in the wilderness. Not only did seven loaves and a few little fishes satisfy the hunger of four thousand, but seven baskets were filled with the fragments that were left. This is the way in which God always works in the dealings of his providence with mankind. He is not content with giving us enough: he gives us more than enough--"full measure, pressed down, and running over." He hath opened his hand and filled all things living with plenteousness. Look at the earth which he has prepared as a dwelling for the children of men, and see how bountifully he has provided for all their necessities. "Oh! that men would praise the Lord for his goodness and for his wonderful works to the children of men," and cry out with David: "How great are thy works, O Lord! Thou hast made all things in wisdom; the earth is filled with, thy riches." {322} But if God has thus lavishly provided for the bodily wants of man, he has been even more bountiful in providing for the needs of his soul. "He hath satisfied the empty soul and filled the hungry soul with good things." Just as air, water, and food, the things necessary for the sustenance of our bodies, are found in the world in great abundance, so also does God's grace abound, which is necessary for the life of our souls. Just as we must breathe the air in order to live, so we have but to open our mouths in prayer, the breath of the soul, and God's grace, which is as plentiful as the air of heaven, is poured into our hearts, filling us with new life. And as we must breathe the breath of prayer, so also we must drink the water of salvation which, mingled with blood, flowed from the wounded side of Jesus. That living water which He promised to give is his Precious Blood, shed for all upon the cross, yet continually flowing in copious streams through the sacraments to cleanse and refresh the souls of men. We have but to approach and drink and our thirsty souls shall be satisfied. "He that shall drink of the water that I shall give him," said Jesus, "shall not thirst for ever. But the water that I shall give him shall become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life." Draw near, then, with joy and draw this water from the Saviour's fountains, the sacraments which he has ordained in his church. Wash therein, and you shall be clean; drink thereof, and your soul shall be refreshed. {323} And for food he gives us the Bread of life, the living Bread which came down from heaven, even his own most Precious Body and Blood in the blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist. "He that eateth of this Bread shall live for ever"; but "unless you eat the Flesh of the Son of Man, and drink his Blood, you shall not have life in you." His grace would have been enough to sustain us; but he is not content with giving us his grace alone, he must give us also Himself. This is the greatest instance of the wonderful prodigality of God towards us. After creating the world, and providing it with all that is needful for our bodily life, after giving us his grace in an almost overwhelming abundance, we might think that his generosity would have spent itself. But no, he goes still further, and his last and greatest gift is himself to be the food of our souls. Surely there is nothing beyond this. God could not do more for us than he has done. In giving us himself he has done the utmost that is possible. When, therefore, we behold the wonderful works of God in our behalf our hearts should swell with thankfulness to him who gives so abundantly unto us, above all that we could ask or think. Since God has been so generous towards us, let us not be guilty of the base ingratitude of despising his gifts, and rejecting the mercies he holds out to us! Rather be generous towards him, and as he gives us himself, so let us give ourselves wholly to him, striving in all things to please him, offering ourselves daily unto him, soul and body, as "a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing to God, our reasonable service." ------------------- {324} Sermon XCVII. Feast Of St. John The Baptist. Today we celebrate the Feast of the Birthday of St. John the Baptist, of whom our Lord said that a greater man than he was never born; and we well know what kind of greatness Jesus Christ would make much of--the greatness of holiness. Looking at his life altogether, we see in him a striking example of one wielding great power and acquiring an eternal fame, who set out to do neither, but rather avoided both. No doubt as he grew up he must have heard something about his miraculous conception, of the angelic prophecy concerning him, and of that wonderful visit the Mother of God made to his own mother before either he or Jesus Christ was born. No doubt he felt himself to be consecrated to God, and set apart in a special manner to aspire after a holy life. And now it is just his fidelity to all those interior inspirations, which, costing him, as it did, so much self-abnegation, and taking him apparently out of the way of obtaining a great name, really made him great. He was a notable example of those who gain all by giving up all. Only those who have this character in a marked degree are truly great in their souls, for virtue is both the source and the glory of nobility. No birth however high, no station or office however exalted, no good luck however extraordinary, high honors, great wealth, nor heaps of badges and medals can make up for the lack of it. A mean, covetous, selfish, proud, gluttonous, sensual, envious-minded, overbearing, spiteful, unforgiving, greedy king or emperor neither is nor can be great, no matter how vast his dominions or countless his subjects. {325} On the other hand, we Catholics know of, and recognize often, the most extraordinary nobleness and refinement of soul in many who are among the poorest, most suffering, and often, in book-learning, the most ignorant of our brethren. What is it that gives to many such that singular taste for and perception of what is pure, beautiful, and true, which they unmistakably possess? And, in times of great trial and sacrifice, what is it that often brings them out above and ahead many others of whom we might be led to expect so much more? I'll tell you: it is the greatness of their holiness, the nobility of their virtue. It is that manifestation of what is really great in the sight of God and his angels--their love of truth, their ready self-denial, their big-hearted charity, their loyalty to God and religion, the independence of the world, their free obedience to superiors, their sweet endurance of pain and sorrow, their meek, forgiving spirit. Such as these are the souls of the great, whom the world, the flesh, and the devil attack and may wound, but cannot conquer. If sometimes we are tempted, dear brethren, to envy the apparent good fortune, as it is esteemed, of those whose greatness is not thus founded in virtue, we may be sure that we are weighing something with a very light and empty weight in the other balance, which may be very bulky, sparkling, and showy, like a big, bright, sunshiny soap-bubble, but with nothing inside, and of very short continuance. {326} So you see how true greatness is within the reach of every one, and within quite easy reach, too. One is not obliged to do a great many things, nor labor many years, nor accomplish what makes a long report with large headings in the newspapers. One has only to take care _how_ the work is done one is called to do--with what spirit one does it. Says the "Imitation of Christ": "We are apt to inquire _how much_ a man has done, but with _how much virtue_ he has done it is not so diligently considered. We ask whether he be strong, rich, beautiful, ingenious, a good writer, good singer, or a good workman; but how poor he is in spirit, how patient and meek, how devout and internal, is what few speak of." Yes, it is not so much the long and splendid record of the work, but the spirit of the working, the pure, unambitious, God-loving intention ruling our labors, that makes them worthy of everlasting memory and meritorious of the renown of a great name, which leaves behind one a memory held in benediction and the history of a life delicious to recall. ------------------- Sermon XCVIII. Idleness. _And they had nothing to eat._ --Gospel of the Sunday. The people who crowded about our Lord had nothing to eat, because out of love of the word of God they had for a time quit their work and their homes. This docility, this constancy argues well for their earnestness in the fulfilment of all their other duties. They were out of food, not through laziness, but because of set purpose they preferred spiritual to temporal nourishment. Hence they merited this extraordinary and unlooked-for manifestation of our Lord's goodness and providence in supplying them with food. {327} We may confidently expect, my brethren, the assistance of God even in temporal want and necessity if our honest endeavors fail. We are not to be over-solicitous; we are not to desire nor strive after an over-abundance of such things. This promise, however, we have: that our Heavenly Father knows our needs, and he will come to our aid. But we have a duty, an obligation to discharge, and that is to work, to earn our bread. Now, this is the point of my sermon: that there are many people--the number seems to be increasing--who have nothing to eat, or who say they have not, and it is their own fault. They do not merit any special interposition of Heaven to save them from the consequences of their own laziness; they do not seem to deserve, they do not deserve, the assistance of the charitable, who are the stewards and the representatives of the Lord. Now, brethren, do not imagine that this is a harsh and an unchristian way of regarding the necessities of the very poor; do not suppose that I make no allowance for the sickness, the lack of work, the hard times, the calamities which from time to time afflict the deserving and the laborious. If you are in a position to know, you cannot but be persuaded that the tendency to ask for help, the inclination to throw burdens on institutions public and private, the frequency, the boldness, the unreasonableness of such demands is on the increase; the number of those who are unwilling to exert themselves, to undergo the routine, the strain of work, grows day by day. Yet the Apostle says, "If any man will not work, neither let him eat." {328} He bids every one labor faithfully in the calling wherein he has been placed. There is no such thing as true religion save in the faithful discharge, first of all, of our natural duties, and in compliance with the first great law of labor. Now, I have frequently noticed one peculiarity about many of those who say they have nothing to eat, and that is, they cannot be said to have nothing to drink; and the presence of this kind of nourishment explains very often the lack of all other. No, my brethren, let us be industrious, saving, and sober, mindful that the law of God has imposed labor on us; let us try to help ourselves; then, if we fail, Heaven will surely help us, even in ways as truly miraculous as our Saviour's for the multitude in the desert. ------------------- {329} _Seventh Sunday after Easter._ Epistle. _Romans vi._ 19-23. Brethren: I speak a human thing, because of the infirmity of your flesh. For as you have yielded your members to serve uncleanness and iniquity, unto iniquity; so now yield your members to serve justice, unto sanctification. For when you were the servants of sin, you were free from justice. What fruit therefore had you then in those things, of which you are now ashamed? For the end of them is death. But now being made free from sin, and become servants to God, you have your fruit unto sanctification, and the end everlasting life. For the wages of sin is death: but the grace of God, everlasting life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Gospel. _St. Matthew vii._ 15-21. At that time Jesus said to his disciples: Beware of false prophets, who come to you in the clothing of sheep, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves. By their fruits you shall know them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree yieldeth good fruit, and the bad tree bad fruit. A good tree cannot yield bad fruit, neither can a bad tree yield good fruit. Every tree that yieldeth not good fruit, shall be cut down, and shall be cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits you shall know them. Not every man that saith to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven: but he that doeth the will of my Father who is in heaven, he shall enter into the kingdom of heaven. ------------------- {330} Sermon XCIX. Mortal Sin The Death Of The Soul. _The wages of sin is death._ When the Apostle, my dear brethren, wrote these words, he did not mean only to express the truth (for truth it is) that the inevitable result of sin, even in this world, is the misery, and finally the death, of the sinner; nor even (though this also is true) that by sin death was introduced into the world. But he wished especially to teach us that the direct and immediate effect of mortal sin is a death much more fearful in itself, and much more awful in its consequences, than any mere cessation of the life of the body--namely, the death of the soul. Mortal sin cuts a man off from his last end; it, as it were, disconnects the soul of any one who is unhappy enough to be in that state with all the springs of the supernatural state. A soul which is in mortal sin is cut off from the mystical body of Christ, and, like a limb cut away from the body of a man, it ceases to have any part in the nourishment with which that body is supported and enabled to pass through the wear and tear of the every-day life of the world. The soul from the time of baptism to the time of death is kept alive by the gift of sanctifying grace. Remove this and the soul inevitably dies. Restore this and it is alive again. Now, it is just the removal of this sanctifying grace which is the immediate effect of mortal sin. {331} As long as any baptized person remains free from the fearful stain of deliberate mortal sin sanctifying grace remains, and every sacrament received, nay, every good act performed, every good word spoken, and every aspiration to higher and better things which passes through the mind, increases the grace which is conferred upon that soul; but the moment the will is deliberately turned away from its Creator, at that moment sanctifying grace ceases and the soul dies. This death is a real death of the soul; it prevents the soul from meriting anything towards the attainment of its last end, and should any one be unhappy enough to die with mortal sin upon his conscience his soul must, by the law of its very being, be buried for all eternity in hell. See, then, my dear brethren, how fearful a thing this sin is which can have such fearful effects. God has made us to enjoy him for all eternity in heaven, and yet by sin we turn against ourselves, and, if I may so speak, compel the good God to issue against us an eternal sentence of banishment from his divine presence. We prevent our own souls from reaching that end for which alone they were created. We reap for ourselves an eternity of untold misery, instead of one of surpassing bliss. Let us, then, to-day make a firm and constant resolution that, cost what it may, nothing in this world shall induce us to kill our souls by staining them with sin; and if any one is so unhappy as to be in that state now, let him now resolve that he will by a good confession cleanse his soul, and from henceforward, casting behind the things that are past, he will press forward to the things that are before. ------------------- {332} Sermon C. False Prophets. _Beware of false prophets._ --Gospel of the Day. I think, my dear brethren, that you all know pretty well what our Lord means when he says in to-day's Gospel, "Beware of false prophets." You would tell me, at least if you stopped to think for a moment, that he means to warn us against those who were to come after him, pretending to teach his doctrine, claiming that theirs was the true and pure Christian religion, or putting on, as he says, the sheep's clothing, but really striving to draw the faithful away from the unity of the church which he had established; being, in fact, to use his own words, ravenous wolves. Yes, you would tell me this, and you would be right in your explanation of his words. It is, indeed, of these false Christian teachers that he would warn us. It is against the innumerable errors which are taught as Christianity, and against the countless self-appointed guides to his one religion who were to multiply as time went on, that he wished to forewarn us; to keep us from listening to them, or allowing ourselves to be turned by them from the one source of truth which he has provided for us in his holy Catholic Church. And no doubt, in a way, we listen to his warning, and are not much deceived by their pretensions, at least in these days. If a Catholic loses his faith nowadays, it is usually easy enough to see that he does so, not because he is really deceived by the false prophet and takes him for a true one, but because he wishes to lead an easier life without being blamed for it; because he objects to confession and the other laws of the church as imposing too much restraint on him, or because his temporal interests will be advanced by the change. {333} But still, in spite of this general security which we now have against being deceived by the persuasions of those who would lead us into error, nay, even on account of this very security which we feel, we do not obey quite carefully enough our Lord's warning. We think we are in no danger from these false prophets, and so we are willing enough to hear what they say. We would not join with them; far from it; but we think there is no harm in hearing or reading their discourses, or acquainting ourselves with their books. We do not, in short, beware of them; we think that there is no need to do so. Really, however, there is. When our Lord said, "Beware of these false prophets," he meant just what he said. He knew that they would do us harm if we did not beware; that, if they did not destroy our faith, they would at least mar its purity or diminish its intensity if we did not take care to avoid them and their teachings in every way. And the church has always acted on the principle which her Divine Founder here laid down, in her instructions to her children. She does not wish even her priests to concern themselves with heretical or infidel doctrines, except with the intention of confuting them as their office requires, fortified though they be with the most thorough instruction in and knowledge of the truth. {334} We are none of us perfectly wise and above the reach of even the most absurd errors, especially when our nature, corrupted by sin, is enlisted on the side of those errors; and, if not in danger of actually falling into any of them in particular, we may at least, by acquainting ourselves with those into which great men have been led, be likely to fall into the most dangerous of all errors, that of believing that truth is so hard to find that it cannot be expected that all should find it, and that it makes no difference what a man believes, as long as he does what seems to the world in general to be right. The true course for us is, then, to beware of false guides in religion by keeping out of their way altogether; and, on the other hand, to study as far as we can the truth, which, if we learn it and grasp it as we should, conveys in itself the answer to them all. Listen to the true prophets, and leave the false ones alone; that is the highest wisdom from the mouth of our Divine Lord himself. ------------------- Sermon CI. The Last Sin. _For the wages of sin is death; but the grace of God, life everlasting in Christ Jesus our Lord._ --From this Sunday's Epistle. {335} This is not the only place in Holy Writ, my brethren, where eternal life and death are set before us as the wages we shall some day be paid. The word of God frequently admonishes us of the choice we are compelled to make between eternal sorrow and eternal joy, and for this most evident reason: we are always actually engaged in making the choice. The very essence of our merit hereafter will be that we shall have freely and deliberately chosen Almighty God and his friendship, in preference to any and everything besides. And the reason, and the only reason, why a man will lose his soul will be because he committed mortal sin and died unrepentant--that is to say, choosing to love what God bids him hate. What we call the choice between virtue and vice St. Paul calls the choice between life and death. And with that choice we are constantly confronted. Not that we always realize it, nor do I mean to say that the first time one grievously offends God he settles his fate eternally; but that each mortal sin really earns the wages of eternal death, and only the blessed mercy of God saves us from our deserved punishment. And furthermore, it is some mortal sin or other that at last breaks down God's patience. If at any particular occasion he does not see fit to take us at our word, so to speak, and leave us for ever in that state of enmity that we have chosen, it is not because we do not deserve it; it is because he is a loving Father to us, and is often willing to stand a great deal of wickedness on our part; or because we have some dear friends who are servants of God and who pray for us; or because the Blessed Virgin has acquired some special attachment to us and intervenes for us; or because God reserves us for a later day, when he will make such an example of us as will save other sinners; or because, again, he saves us for a later day to make us models of true penance. {336} But just look around you, brethren; just call to mind what you have heard or perhaps seen of God's judgments, and the Apostle's lesson becomes object-teaching. Have you not heard of a sudden and unprovided death and then remembered how years ago that man started a disreputable business? It was thus that he made his decision for all eternity. On the other hand, a man now temperate, once a drunkard, will tell you that long ago he took the pledge and broke it, and broke it again, but still persevered, and finally, by the grace of God, has managed to keep it. He was fighting the battle of fate and he won the victory. That dreadful appetite overcome, the practice of religion became easy to him. In another case a man is led away little by little from the rules of honest dealing; at last he refuses to pay a certain just debt, one that he can easily pay if he wishes. After that avarice eats into the core of his heart and he is lost for ever. And, brethren, what a relief to hear after a sudden death that the poor soul was a monthly communicant! Many are tested by Almighty God demanding that they shall withdraw from the proximate occasions of mortal sin. The voice of conscience, a sermon heard in the church, the private advice of some good friend--for all these are the voice of God--admonish[ing] them against what leads them to mortal sin; against very bad company, or the saloon, or the Sunday excursion, or dangerous reading, or lonely company-keeping. Perhaps one's conduct about such dangers has more to do with his choice in eternity than any thing else. I do not mean to say that this fateful decision is a mere lottery, but it is a moment at the end of years of rebellion against God when an effort is made by the grace of God to save the sinner; and for weal or for woe it is the last chance. Some time or other the last sin will be committed, the last grace will be granted. {337} O my brethren! how very reasonable is the holy fear of God. Oh! how wise are they who have joined fear and love of God together so that the fire of love has burned the dross of slavishness out of fear, and fear has mingled reverence and humility with love. Alas! that so many should live as if eternal life and death had no meaning for the present hour. Some are like that millionaire I heard of. Walking home one day, a heavy shower of rain began, he stopped a hack and asked what the driver would take him home for. Fifty cents, was the answer. he began to beat him down, and finally, refusing more than twenty-five cents, he walked home in the rain. But he caught cold, went to bed, and died. He had played the miser many a time before, but the last time had come. So many a one thinks his one sin more, his one other rejection of grace, is but like the multitude of other such offences gone before; and all the time he is deciding an eternal fate. ------------------- {338} _Eighth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Romans viii._ 12-17. Brethren: We are debtors not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh, you shall die. But if by the spirit you mortify the deeds of the flesh, you shall live. For whosoever are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of God. For you have not received the spirit of bondage again in fear: but you have received the spirit of adoption of sons, whereby we cry, Abba (Father). For the Spirit himself giveth testimony to our spirit, that we are the sons of God. And if sons, heirs also; heirs indeed of God, and joint heirs with Christ. Gospel. _St. Luke xvi._ 1-9. At that time: Jesus spoke to his disciples this parable: There was a certain rich man who had a steward: and the same was accused unto him, that he had wasted his goods. And he called him, and said to him: What is this I hear of thee? Give an account of thy stewardship: for now thou canst not be steward. And the steward said within himself: What shall I do, because my lord taketh away from me the stewardship? To dig I am not able, to beg I am ashamed. I know what I will do, that when I shall be put out of the stewardship, they may receive me into their houses. Therefore calling together every one of his lord's debtors, he said to the first: How much dost thou owe my lord? But he said: A hundred barrels of oil. And he said to him: Take thy bill and sit down quickly, and write fifty. Then he said to another: And how much dost thou owe? Who said: A hundred quarters of wheat. He said to him: Take thy bill and write eighty. {339} And the lord commended the unjust steward, forasmuch as he had done wisely: for the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light. And I say to you: Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of iniquity, that when you shall fail they may receive you into everlasting dwellings. ------------------- Sermon CII. Spirit And Flesh. _For if you live according to the flesh you shall die. But if by the spirit you mortify the deeds of the flesh you shall live._ --Romans viii. 13. What does the Apostle mean by this? This only, that the flesh with its concupiscence and lusts must never get such power over our will that it will carry us along with it and make us obey its longings and desires when we know these are forbidden by Almighty God. I say "this only" because to have the flesh is no sin; neither is it a sin to feel the disorderly movements of the flesh that lead to sin; but it is a sin to consent to these and to follow them. For this reason we are told that if we mortify the deeds of the flesh, to which these movements of the flesh lead us, we shall live. But what does the word "mortify" mean? It means to destroy that which makes the life of a thing. Notice here the Apostle does not tell us to mortify the flesh itself but the deeds of the flesh. To do this we need not then attempt to kilt the flesh, but we must destroy all that gives life to its deeds. {340} What are the deeds of the flesh? They are the seven capital sins--pride, covetousness, lust, anger, gluttony, envy, sloth. Can we kill them? In the most important sense we can. We can get them so under our control that, after awhile, they will move us but slightly and cannot influence us to any great degree. We shall feel from time to time that they are still present in us, but that cannot disturb us much. We shall have taken their strength away. We shall have made them so weak that we can check them easily. Ought not each one of us strive to get ourselves into that blessed state? But how can we do it? Make up your mind to do it. Form a good resolution, one that will not change but that will be firm for life. Then live according to that resolution. When pride is aroused, refuse to follow its promptings; when covetousness moves the heart, stop the eager desire for gain; when lust would lead you away, contend against the thought until it is driven out; when anger disturbs, seal the lips with the sign of the holy cross; when gluttony makes you long for feasting and drinking, refuse to go where these things are going on; when envy racks the soul, pray for the one who is the object of envy; when sloth tempts you to self-indulgence and inactivity, stir up the fear of God and holy shame within the soul, for sloth is a destroyer indeed of all that is truly manly and heroic in us. But all this is about as hard to do as anything a man can do, some may say. Yes, it is hard to do, but the success is _sure_. Shall a man do less for God than for himself? See the time and labor spent to secure that which is necessary for the body and success in the life of only a few years in this world. Shall a man not do as much for the good of his soul and for eternal life in the next world? {341} Is it really so hard as it seems? By no means. We make it harder than it really is by putting it all together and by thinking we are to do it all at once. This is not true. It must be done by degrees, slowly, patiently, perseveringly, but surely. The devil makes us think it harder by telling us, when we feel the sharpness of the first struggle, "You can't bear it this way, for life." You can if God wills it and gives you the grace. And most people, almost all Christian souls, do not have it "this way, for life." Those who keep up the struggle get stronger day by day. In them the flesh and the movements of sin grow less day by day. The devil, however, wishes us to believe the lie he tells, to make us give up the struggle. Do not listen to the lie and it cannot hurt you. Remember always, it is a lie, and the mind will not take hold of it. We can make it all the easier by trusting God, who will always help us in the struggle. _Pray_ more. Go to confession often. The confessor will then help us and remove much of the burden by good advice. Go to Communion often, and God himself will make it easier for us than we imagine by giving his own strength to the soul at that time. Only begin earnestly to control the flesh, continue perseveringly to use confession and Communion. This, with daily morning and evening prayer, will take away very many difficulties. Soon we shall find we have truly mortified the deeds of the flesh, and then indeed we shall live, for the flesh will then be dead or dying fast and too weak to hurt the soul. Keep, then, in the mind the text from the Epistle of to-day: "For if you live according to the flesh you shall die. But if by the spirit you mortify the deeds of the flesh you shall live." ------------------- {342} Sermon CIII. The Business Of The Soul. _The Lord commended the unjust steward, forasmuch as he had done wisely._ --Words Taken From To-day's Gospel. One of the things which strikes us most forcibly in reading the instructions of our Blessed Lord as we have them in the holy Gospels is the matter-of-fact, common-sense, business-like manner in which he sets before us the way we must act in order to save our souls. We find no sentimentalism, no rhetoric, no fine-sounding flights of eloquence which delight the imagination and please the fancy indeed, but which are too fleeting and flimsy to serve as a basis of every-day action. No; with our Lord this matter of the salvation of our souls is a matter of infinite business, a question of eternal profit and loss. Let me recall a few examples: "The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking good pearls, who, when he had found one of great price, went his way and sold all he had and bought it." Here the way in which we are to act in order to get the kingdom of heaven is compared to the way in which the man of business acts who finds a good article--something worth his money. What does he do? Why, if it is really worth it--and the kingdom of heaven, the salvation of our souls is worth it--he sells all that he has and buys it. {343} And yet again our Lord places before us the salvation of our souls as based upon a calculation of what is the more profitable course to take in those words the realization of which has called forth the highest heroism of the greatest of the saints: "If thy eye offend thee pluck it out and cast it from thee." Why? Because "it is better for thee with one eye to enter the kingdom of God than, having two eyes, to be cast into the hell of fire." Here again it is a calculation of loss and gain--the loss of an eye in this world as against that of the whole body in the next. Shall I, on the principle that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, keep my two eyes; or shall I, for the sake of saving the whole body, pluck out the eye, cut off the foot or hand? But of all the places where this way of looking at things and of acting is inculcated and enforced, the most striking is in the parable read in to-day's Gospel. Here our Lord, in order to lead us to take a practical, hard-headed way of acting with reference to the salvation of our souls, brings before us the conduct of the unjust steward, and, strange to say, actually praises it. And how did this unjust steward act? The unjust steward was a dishonest man. He had been placed in a position of trust, but had wasted his master's goods--perhaps speculated with his money, made false entries in his books, or something else of that kind. Well, the truth came out at last, as it generally does sooner or later, and he was at his wits end what to do. No thought of repentance enters into his head; he has got on a wrong road, and he found it, as we all find it, very hard to get out of it. {344} And so, knowing the men with whom he has to deal, he sends for some of his master's debtors, and, in order to make them his friends and to establish a claim on them for help and assistance when he gets into trouble, he alters their bills and makes them less. "And the Lord commended the unjust steward because he had done wisely." Our Lord does not commend, of course, the dishonesty of his conduct; this we all understand. But he commends his clearness of sight as to what was for his worldly interest, and his promptitude in taking wise and suitable means to further that interest. What our Lord wants to teach us is that we must act for our highest interest in the same clear-sighted, determined, wise, and prudent way in which this specimen of a worldly man acted for the sordid and selfish and foolish ends of men of this world. Well, my brethren, take these thoughts home with you, and ask yourselves, each and every one of you, how you are acting. Have you an intelligent view of the end you have to attain, of its value and importance, and of the means by which it is to be attained, and are you acting earnestly in order to attain that end? ------------------- Sermon CIV. The Judgments Of God. _Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of iniquity; that when you shall fail they may receive you into everlasting dwellings._ --Gospel of the Day. {345} My dear brethren, there will come to each one of us a day when all those earthly goods we now enjoy shall fail us, when we shall have to turn our backs on the world and all that it has to give us, and prepare ourselves to stand before him to whom all things that we had and enjoyed belong, and give an account to him of the uses which we have made of them. We have, like the steward in to-day's Gospel, a Lord and Master; and to him we must sooner or later give an account of our stewardship. And it is only too likely, we may say it is indeed certain, that when that dread moment comes at which this world must be left behind, the charge will also be made against us, as against the steward in this parable, that we have wasted our Master's goods. Our consciences will rise up and condemn us, and anticipate the accusation which shall be brought against us when we shall actually come face to face with God. Then all the security we have had in the thought that we are not murderers, robbers, or adulterers shall vanish; we shall not be able to console ourselves with the idea that we have done no great harm to any one. We shall see how selfish and how sensual our lives have been; that we have wasted for the pleasure of a passing moment the greater part of those gifts which God gave us for his service. Wasted our time, our strength, our knowledge, and our abilities in getting for ourselves the means of gratification or amusement, or in raising ourselves for our own sake to a position of honor or of wealth. We shall see what we might have been, what God meant that we should be, and compare it with what we are. Fain would we then be able to say with St. Paul, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course." Our faith indeed we shall, it is to be hoped, have kept; but we shall feel that our fight has been but a poor and cowardly one, and that we, instead of finishing the course which our Lord laid out for us, have gone over only a very small part of it, and that its goal is far, far away. {346} What, then, shall be our hope? For hope we must have if we would not offend God even more then than through life. He commands us to hope; but in what shall our hope be placed? Where or in what but his mercy? He will take us, grievously deficient as we are, and make the little, miserable offerings which we have to present to him, the remnant of what he gave us, into some kind of a crown of eternal life, if only we will turn to him with our whole hearts; if we will at least, at that last moment, really believe in him, hope in him, and love him. He that perseveres to the end, he that will not die in mortal sin, shall be saved. But what shall obtain for us at that last moment the faith, hope, and charity which we need? Who will help us to persevere when the enemies of our salvation are making the most of their last chance to snatch it from us? Will those with whom we have enjoyed life then stand by to help us? It is to be feared that they and all that they have done for us will not avail us much then. No, the friends who will then be most valuable to us will be those, if indeed we have such, whom we have not sought for our own sake, but whom we loved for God's sake. And it is not the riches which we amassed that will then be precious to us, but such as we have given away to those who needed it more than we. {347} These are the friends which our Lord, in to-day's Gospel, tells us to make, that they may help us at the hour when our eternal destiny hangs trembling in the balance. These are the friends which may be made by that mammon of iniquity, those worldly riches which are too often the occasion of sin, and whose prayers and blessings may indeed be the means of our being received, in spite of our unprofitableness, into everlasting habitations. Happy is the man who, when he comes to die, knows that God's poor have prayed for him, and have blessed his name. ------------------- {348} _Ninth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 1 _Corinthians x._ 6-13. Brethren: We should not covet evil things, as they also coveted. Neither become ye idolaters, as some of them: as it is written: "The people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play." Neither let us commit fornication, as some of them committed fornication, and there fell in one day three and twenty thousand. Neither let us tempt Christ: as some of them tempted, and perished by the serpents. Neither do you murmur: as some of them murmured, and were destroyed by the destroyer. Now all these things happened to them in figure; and they are written for our correction, upon whom the ends of the world are come. Wherefore let him that thinketh himself to stand, take heed lest he fall. Let no temptation take hold on you, but such as is human. And God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you are able; but will make also with temptation issue, that you may be able to bear it. Gospel. _St. Luke xix._ 41-47. At that time: When Jesus drew near Jerusalem, seeing the city, he wept over it, saying: If thou also hadst known, and that in this thy day, the things that are for thy peace; but now they are hidden from thy eyes. For the days shall come upon thee: and thy enemies shall cast a trench about thee: and compass thee round, and straiten thee on every side, and beat thee flat to the ground, and thy children who are in thee; and they shall not leave in thee a stone upon a stone: because thou hast not known the time of thy visitation. And entering into the temple, he began to cast out them that sold therein, and them that bought, saying to them: "It is written: My house is the house of prayer"; but you have made it a den of thieves. And he was teaching daily in the temple. ------------------- {349} Sermon CV. Justice And Mercy. _And when he drew near, seeing the city, he wept over it._ --From the Gospel of the Sunday. Which one of the children is best loved by the father and mother? Is there any poor little cripple in the family? That is the favorite child. It makes the parent's heart bleed to see the limping walk or the hunched back, to see the sallow, pain-marked face of the little one. That is the one who receives the warmest caress; for that one the kindest tones and cheeriest words and nicest presents are reserved. Well, brethren, it is the same in the spiritual order. God has his best favors for his most unfortunate children: for men and women in the state of mortal sin. That is one reason why our Lord lavished such affection on the Jews; they had most need of it. Their hearts were the hardest hearts in the world. Jerusalem was the most accursed city in the world. It and its people were on the point of committing the most awful crime possible to our race. Hence our Lord wept over it those bitter tears of rejected love, and breathed those deadly sighs of a heart wearied and disappointed in fruitless efforts for their salvation. It is true, amidst those tears he told of the persistent obstinacy of the Jews, and of their final impenitence, and of their terrific chastisement. But he did it all with many tears and with a depth of regret better told by tears than words. {350} Brethren, there is a deep mystery taught us by this scene. It is the mystery of the union of two sentiments in God which to us seem essentially different--justice and mercy. How could our Saviour weep over a downfall so well deserved? How could he regret what none knew so well as he was to be a punishment all too light for the crimes of the Jews? Is there not a mystery here? How can it be explained? There is no adequate theoretical explanation of it. But there is a practical one, and a very excellent one, too. It is this: Put yourself in a Jew's place; fancy yourself one of that apostate race; stand up before our Lord and listen to his sentence given against you with infinite reluctance--every hard word a sigh of tender regret. Do you not see that this exhibition of mercy in the Judge only renders the justice of the sentence more evident to you and more dreadful? Mercy thus lends to Justice a weapon which, while it only crushes down its victim the deeper, at the same time elevates much higher in the culprit's eyes the rectitude of the sentence. Of course, the justice of God and his mercy are perfectly equal. Yet in some true sense we may say that his mercy is more powerful than his justice. Does not the Psalmist say that God's mercy "is above all his works"? Do we not know by observation and experience that where the wrath of God sets apart a single victim his tender love wins over a thousand? Why, the very sentiments of our hearts, the very convictions of our minds by which we earn forgiveness in the Sacrament of Penance, are they not the free gift of God, earned by us only because "us" means persons penetrated with light and strength streaming down from the throne of mercy? {351} We offer our repentance to God in a kind of a way as children make Christmas presents to their father. Where do they get money to buy them? From their mother, and she saves it up from the household expenses or gets it as a gift from her husband. In the long run the presents were bought by the one to whom they are given. Yet they are very dear to the father; he values them; they are real presents to him; they express a real devotion; they lose nothing of their character of presents because he is at the expense of it all. So with our Heavenly Father. If he gives the gold we coin it; we stamp the beloved form of the Son of God on our poor prayers, so that when they have made the circuit and are back again in the divine bosom from which they sprang forth, somehow we have added something to them. Brethren, let us hope that when our Lord's tears concerned us it was not in view of our reprobation, but of our salvation. Let us be inflamed, too, with a sense of our ingratitude that we are such unworthy children of so good a Father. A man may swagger and brag down his better self when merely threatened with punishment. But who among you can face, without flinching, the tears of so good a friend as our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ? ------------------- Sermon CVI. Neglect Of Divine Warnings. {352} The Gospel to-day tells us, my dear brethren, that Jesus wept as he approached Jerusalem; not for himself, nor for all he was so soon to suffer there, but for the city itself, and for his chosen people, to whom he had given it for their glory and joy. Yes, this beautiful city was their joy and their pride; long before they had been taken from it into captivity by their enemies for a time, and as the Psalmist says, speaking in their name, "By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Sion." And he goes on: "If I forget thee, Jerusalem, may I forget my right hand; may my tongue cleave to my mouth if I do not remember thee, if I do not make Jerusalem the beginning of my joy." And now this city of theirs was to be taken from them again by a more grievous and fatal disaster than it had ever yet suffered. They were to be scattered from it all over the world to do a long penance for their sins and their rejection of him who had come to redeem them. And our Divine Lord's Heart yearned for them, for these his creatures, and at the same time his brethren and his countrymen. Fain would he have saved them, if they would but have been willing, from the terrible sufferings they were to undergo. Gladly, as he says himself, would he have sheltered them, if they would even now have come to him, from the tempest which was about to break upon them from the justice of God. He wept because they would not come and avail themselves of his love. We should pray for them that the day may be hastened when they shall return and acknowledge their true Messias, their own Lord and Master, the only true King of the Jews. But they are not the only ones to weep for; they are not the only ones whom he has loaded with favors, and who have been ungrateful; there are others besides the Jews whom Almighty God has chosen for his people, but who have rejected him and distressed his loving heart. {353} Who are they? They are in general all sinners, but especially such as are Catholics; they are those souls for whom Jesus has done so much from their earliest years, in the midst of whom he has lived and wrought so many works of power and goodness; those whom he has enlightened with his truth, those whom he has warned against sin, those whom he has borne with so long and forgiven so often, those whom he has fed with his own Body and Blood. And yet, through evil habits, by frequent mortal sin, they live on, deaf to his warnings, despising his love, not knowing the time of their visitation, until evil days and a sad ending come upon them. Can we wonder that their enemies, the evil one and their bad habits, compass them round about, and straiten them on all sides, and beat them down and leave them wasted and desolate? Can we wonder that, since they would not bear the sweet and ennobling yoke of Christ, they will be forced to groan in the fetters of Satan and be exiled for ever from the true Jerusalem, the home of peace, which is above? No, brethren; such is the fate of those who persistently abuse God's grace, who reject his mercy and his efforts to save them. God forbid that such a career, such an ending, be ours. Let us, then, take warning; let us be careful about temptations; let us not presume on our own strength nor on God's goodness in the past; let us not make light of anything which is dangerous or forbidden. Let us endeavor not to grieve our Lord by any infidelity, great or small, but try to be faithful to every grace in this the day of our visitation, and to follow the things that are for our peace here and our happiness hereafter. ------------------- {354} Sermon CVII. Living From Day To Day. _If thou also hadst known, and that in this thy day, the things that are for thy peace._ --St. Luke xix. 42. The fault of the Jews, my brethren, was twofold: boasting of the past and waiting for the future. It is especially on account of the latter fault that our Lord in this day's Gospel lays such stress on the words "and that in this thy day." It is a warning against trying to live in the future. We all know, to be sure, that one may go to the other extreme, and by a form of sloth be too careless of the future. Some things there are which are certain to come upon us, and their coming must be provided for. There is a judgment to come, and every minute of to-day is like a bailiff busy gathering evidence for that Divine Court. Temptation is sure to come, and its strain upon our virtue must be foreseen in every prayer of every day. The common wants of life for one's self and family are inevitable in the future, and must be prudently provided against. In all such things we know that the future is an actual fact, and is just as present to God as this very instant is to us. {355} What our Lord would rebuke is not a prudent foresight, but that weak and idle state of mind which postpones to the future what should be done at once. This is the commonest of human delusions. In a temporal point of view it is condemned by the saying, "Procrastination is the thief of time," and it might be added of many other valuable commodities. In a spiritual point of view the dreadful result of delaying till to-morrow what should be done to-day is expressed by the saying, "Hell is paved with good intentions." Wise men resolve to do in the future only what they cannot do now. Many and many a poor soul has lost the kingdom of heaven for that one reason: resolving instead of doing. Brethren, a practically-minded Christian lives his spiritual life from day to day. He knows that the future is something entirely in God's hands. As for himself, his actual ability to do good begins and ends with each passing hour. If he provides well for it as it comes and goes he has done his part; God will not fail to take care of the future. One's peace of mind is never secure till one has learned to be content with present duty well done. Oh! what a happiness when one's soul is unburdened of care for the future. Do you covet that happiness? It is yours if you leave nothing undone for the present. If you can honestly say, "That is all I can do for the present," you may add, "and the future also." But, you say, what about a purpose of amendment? Does not that dwell specially on the future? Yes, it does; but it springs from a present sorrow. And if the sorrow be as heartfelt as it should be the purpose of amendment will take care of itself. A deep hatred of sin is the only true sorrow, and such a hatred must be enduring. The test of a contrite man is not what he promises but what he does. His sorrow unites the past and future in the present. Warned by his past weakness, he begins right here and just now by prayer and work to guard against a future relapse. {356} Learn a lesson, brethren, from our Lord's warning and from the fate of the Jews. It is better to say one's morning prayers to-day than to resolve to become a saint next week. To-day is here, and next week is nowhere. This day is mine; I know not if I shall have so much as one other. God has the past and the future. I will thank him for the past, I will beg him for the future. As to the present, with God's help, I will set to work to do my utmost. ------------------- {357} _Tenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 1 Corinthians xii. 2-11. Brethren: You know that when you were heathens you went to dumb idols, according as you were led. Wherefore I give you to understand, that no man, speaking by the Spirit of God, saith Anathema to Jesus. And no man can say, The Lord Jesus, but by the Holy Ghost. Now there are diversities of graces, but the same Spirit; and there are diversities of ministries, but the same Lord. And there are diversities of operations, but the same God, who worketh all in all. But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man unto profit. To one, indeed, by the Spirit, is given the word of wisdom: to another, the word of knowledge according to the same Spirit: to another, faith in the same Spirit: to another, the grace of healing in one Spirit: to another, the working of miracles: to another, prophecy: to another, the discerning of spirits: to another, divers kinds of tongues: to another, interpretation of speeches: but all these things one and the same Spirit worketh, dividing to every one as he will. Gospel. _St. Luke xviii._ 9-14. At that time: To some who trusted in themselves as just, and despised others, Jesus spoke this parable: Two men went up into the temple to pray: the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The Pharisee, standing, prayed thus with himself: O God, I give thee thanks that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, nor such as this publican. I fast twice in the week: I give tithes of all that I possess. {358} And the publican, standing afar off, would not so much as lift up his eyes towards heaven; but struck his breast, saying: O God, be merciful to me a sinner! I say to you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; because every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled: and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted. ------------------- Sermon CVIII. Sympathy for Sinners. _O God, I give thee thanks that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, nor such as this publican._ --St. Luke xviii. 11. Did you never notice that pride and hardness of heart go together? That miserable Pharisee could not enjoy his self-glorification without condemning his neighbor, a person, as it happened, far more deserving than himself. Indeed, the worst vices seem to love each other's company as if they were all blood relatives. Coveting our neighbor's goods, for example, goes along with stinginess of our own; gluttony and lust are twins. Almost the same may be said of oppressing others and disobeying lawful authority; and in this hateful Pharisee we behold the union of pride in one's self and contempt for one's neighbor. The sinner seems to be bound with a chain every link of which is double. Now, brethren, this is a fault often found in far better souls than this haughty Pharisee. Many of us have too little sympathy for persons whom we know to be in mortal sin. To be sure, it is no harm to rejoice that we are at friendship with heaven. But the worst of it is that some of us are never really happy at the thought of our own virtues till we are quite miserable over our neighbor's wickedness; and when we say with our lips, How wicked So-and-So is! our heart whispers, And how good I am! {359} The spirit of correction possesses many good people--a spirit commonly the sign of hidden pride. No sooner do we take the first steps in amendment of life than we are divided between rejoicing in our own goodness and lamenting over other folk's vice. I know not what we good people should do for something to talk about were it not for our neighbor's shortcomings. Brethren, this vanity is very foolish and very dangerous. Who dare say that he has nothing to fear from the judgments of God? Who can count himself safe so much as one day from his own natural feebleness, or from the wiles of Satan, or from human respect? And if we do rightly trust in God's favor, how can we forget that progress in virtue is a necessary condition of our remaining virtuous at all? Now this progress means simply a right knowledge of our remaining defects and a solid purpose to overcome them; something with which the vice of the Pharisee is quite incompatible. Nothing so blinds us to our own little faults as too much regard for our neighbor's big ones. Doubtless it would have been just as difficult for the Pharisee to correct his harshness of voice, or his lofty bearing, or his patronizing airs as to overcome his great sin of pride itself; and such is the case with many of us. The beam in our neighbor's eye looks so shocking that we quite forget that we have quite a squint in our own eye from various little motes in it. {360} Be certain, therefore, brethren, that, if you find hard feelings in your heart toward sinners, you have no long journey to make before you discover the capital sin of pride in your own. Why can we not leave judgment to God, and treat poor sinners after our Lord's example, praying and suffering for them? I do not mean to say that we should forget to mention to them the awful chastisements of God; indeed, a truer friend does not exist than one who warns us of our future destruction, and some, such as parents, are in duty bound to give such admonition. But in the treatment of moral maladies we should bear in mind that bitter words and harsh looks spoil good medicine. And especially should we bear in mind that we have had our own wicked days. Let us, therefore, regard sinners with much tenderness, dropping out of our view while we deal with them our own darling selves. Let us realize that we ourselves are poor souls, quite capable, but for God's singular favor, of falling into the worst state of sinfulness. ------------------- Sermon CIX. Morning Prayers. _Two men went up into the temple to pray._ --From the Gospel of the Sunday. The lesson of this day's Gospel, my brethren, is prayer; its necessity and its humility. Our short sermon must be contented with a little corner of this great field--that is to say, morning prayers. {361} Suppose that your child is sick, what is your first word in the morning? It is, How is the baby this morning? Then follows much more: I think it is a little better to-day; it seems easier; or it passed a bad night; I hope the day will be cool, for it suffers from heat. So, anxiety for your poor little child consecrates your first thoughts and words to its welfare. And do you not know that your poor soul is either sick or runs the risk of catching a deadly sickness every day you live? There are bad sights on the streets that tend to sicken it; there are snares of the devil, such as cursing and foul-talking companions, bad reading and saloons; there is a spiritual cancer within--I mean the temptation of the flesh--which can only be kept from destroying the soul's life by constant and severe treatment. Now, thoughts and words do your sick child little good; but they are the very best things for the soul, especially early in the morning. The man or woman who kneels down and says the morning prayer guards against temptation, heads off the noon-day demon, and provides that happiest of evenings, that is to say, the one which follows an innocent day. There's a saying against braggarts and promise-breakers that "fine words butter no parsnips." It is not true of words said in charity to our neighbor or in prayer to God. Sincere words addressed to God as the day begins sweeten every morsel of food the livelong day, lighten every burden and weaken every temptation. Why, then, are you so careless about morning prayers? It can only be because you do not appreciate your spiritual weakness or you do not care what becomes of your soul before bedtime. But somebody might say: Father, can't you tell us something to make the morning prayers easy? It is very hard to remember them, and then it is so pleasant to get even five minutes more sleep, especially in the winter time; and, again, I am always in a hurry to get off to work, etc. {362} Now you might as well ask me to tell you something to make you relish a good wash and a clean shirt. If a man does not hate dirt, it is preaching up the chimney to try to make him love to be clean. Prayer cleans the heart. Prayer clothes the soul with the grace of God. Prayer brings down God. Prayer drives away the devil. Or, I might rather say, that for a clean heart, and in order to get the grace of God, and in order to vanquish temptation, prayer is simply and indispensably necessary. Once a man came to me and said: Father, for years I was addicted to habitual vice of the worst kind (and here he named a fearful sin), but I began some time ago to say the Litany of the Blessed Virgin every morning and the Litany of Jesus every night, and this practice has entirely cured me of that dreadful habit. Some such story as that, my brethren, every man must tell before he can say that he is delivered from sin. For my own part, I look upon regular morning prayers as a plain mark of predestination to eternal life. "Ask and you shall receive; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you," is our Lord's promise to those that pray; and the best prayer is the morning prayer. Be ready, therefore, to correct yourself for omitting it. The day you forget it go without something you like to eat, put a nickel in the poor-box, double up your night prayers, make a special request to your guardian angel to get you up in good time for morning prayer the following morning. For the "Our Father," "Hail Mary," "Apostles Creed," "Confiteor," and Acts of Faith, Hope, Sorrow, and Charity, that you say in the morning will in the end give you a happy death and the kingdom of heaven. ------------------- {363} Sermon CX. Feast Of St. Mary Magdalen. _Many sins are forgiven her, because she loved much._ --Gospel of the Day. My dear brethren, no one who has faith can fail to be more or less anxious as to whether he will in the end save his soul. We all know that our faith alone will not save us; that faith, as St. James tells us, without works is dead. And we know that everything depends on the last moment; that as the tree falls, so will it lie for all eternity. So we tremble to think that perhaps that last moment will find us with our sins unforgiven, and all unprepared to meet our Judge; and that, in spite of our having borne the name of Christ, we may be then cast away from his presence into the outer darkness for ever. Some people, I know, have a very simple way of reassuring themselves about this all-important matter. They think that, of course, when they come to die they will send for the priest; then, if he gets there in time, of course there can be no question about their salvation. And even if he does not, perhaps they would not altogether despair; certainly their friends will not despair of them. God, they think, will not utterly cast off those who have always believed in him; their prayers and those of their friends will certainly obtain them a place in purgatory, and at last they will save their souls, at least by fire. {364} But, after all, do not even the most confident of us sometimes have a fear that even the last sacraments may not make our salvation absolutely sure? The last sacraments are not so very different from the others we have received before; and do we always feel fully prepared to die after every Communion which we make? No, there is a haunting fear that something is not right which pursues us even at the altar-rail; we would give much if we could only do something which would take it away altogether. Let us not be troubled because we have this fear; it is better not to be entirely free from it; above all, let us not stay away from the sacraments because we have it. If we stay away in any case except that of known and certain mortal sin which is not forgiven, we shall only make matters worse. But still this fear is generally a sign of something wrong; it does not altogether come from humility, or from the desire of salvation. It comes from a want of something which we ought to have; from a want of the greatest of all virtues, of that which includes all others, and brings all others with it--from a want of the love of God. Not an entire want of it, but a want of strength in it, a want of affection; a want of that feeling which we have for our friends, and which, above all, we should have for the greatest and best of all. Yes, perfect love, as St. John tells us, casts out fear. It is the short cut out of all these worries, difficulties, and anxieties which all who are not hardened sinners must have without it. It was the direct and simple road which St. Mary Magdalen took in escaping from sin. {365} She followed the Friend of sinners as he went on his mission of mercy; she saw the miracles of his power and goodness; she saw the love for men which shone in his face and inspired his every word and action, and her heart was touched and melted. She took it away at once and for ever from all those vain things to which it had been attached and gave it truly and entirely to him who had made it, and who had come in sorrow and suffering to win back his own. And her many sins were forgiven because she loved much; because all the powers of earth and of hell cannot put an obstacle between God and the soul that loves him as he should be loved. If we would only do as she did; if we would put away all these bargainings about just how much we are bound to give to God, and how much we can safely keep for ourselves; if we would love him as she did, not with a mere passing sentiment, but with that devotion and self-sacrificing affection which it is so easy sometimes to give to a mere creature; if we would let him, as he wishes, into our hearts as our dearest and best, and make everything else give place, then fear would pass away, and we should say, "Let God take me when he will; let me suffer what my sins deserve, but surely he will not keep me from loving him." Yes, my brethren, to love God is the one thing necessary; to love him is to save our souls. ------------------- {366} _Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 1 _Corinthians xv._ 1-10. Brethren: I make known unto you the gospel which I preached to you, which also you have received, and wherein you stand: by which also you are saved, if you hold fast after what manner I preached to you, unless you have believed in vain. For I delivered to you first of all, which I also received: how that Christ died for our sins, according to the Scriptures: and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day, according to the Scriptures: and that he was seen by Cephas, and after that by the eleven. Then was he seen by more than five hundred brethren at once, of whom many remain until this present, and some are fallen asleep. After that he was seen by James, then by all the apostles. And last of all, he was seen also by me, as by one born out of due time. For I am the least of the apostles, who am not worthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace in me hath not been void. Gospel. _St. Mark vii._ 31-37. At that time: Jesus going out of the borders of Tyre, came by Sidon to the sea of Galilee, through the midst of the territories of Decapolis. And they bring to him one that was deaf and dumb; and they besought him to lay his hand upon him. And taking him aside from the multitude, he put his fingers into his ears, and spitting, he touched his tongue: and looking up to heaven, he groaned, and said to him: Ephpheta, which is, Be opened. {367} And immediately his ears were opened, and the string of his tongue was loosed, and he spoke right. And he charged them that they should tell no man. But the more he charged them, so much the more a great deal did they publish it. And so much the more did they wonder, saying: He hath done all things well; he hath made both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak. ------------------- Sermon CXI. Want Of Confidence In God. _He hath done all things well._ --St. Mark vii. 37. The spectators of the double miracle related in this day's Gospel were filled with admiration at our Lord's power and goodness; they could not help exclaiming, "He doth all things well." Would to God, brethren, that such a sentiment of our Lord's love and power filled our hearts! Confidence in God, however, is the very virtue many Christians lack most. True, we say and believe that God is infinitely good--that he is mercy itself. But such language is very indefinite and may express a very dim conception. It is something like saying that a stone is very hard or that water is very wet. We are apt to form pictures of God's attributes in our minds, just as a painter may make a portrait of some historical personage he never saw; many of our notions of God are fancy portraits, all imagination. But just think of the actual grounds of our confidence in our Blessed Lord. Just realize that this wonderful being is filled with the tenderest human love for the worst of us, and has all the divine power at his command--being both man and God--to make good his love by bringing about our spiritual and temporal welfare. {368} The Incarnation is the divine Mercy made man for the love of us. Can we suppose that such a being, having begun the good work of our salvation by giving us the true religion, will leave anything undone, that we will let him do, to bring us to the kingdom of heaven? Do you think that such a loving Father would teach us, his children, A B C except with the set purpose of going clean through to X Y Z? Just think, that it positively never happened that any wretched sinner, how ever degraded, ever implored our Lord's forgiveness and was rejected; nay, that he himself secretly inspires sinners with their grief and horror for their evil ways, and then imparts forgiveness in return for his own gift. The fact is that the question is not whether God will forgive us, but whether we will let him do it. In a word, this infinitely good and infinitely powerful being is bent and determined that we shall enjoy perfect happiness, world without end. What a wonder, then, that we can treat our Lord in our cold-hearted way! Scrupulous persons treat him as if he were a tyrant; lukewarm Christians treat him like a stepfather; obstinate sinners treat him with open contempt. The practise of prayer, the reception of the sacraments and other aids of religion--we treat them as school-children do their lessons: we do it all because we are afraid of the consequences if we don't. Considering how much God loves us his service should come as easy to us as breathing the air; it should be the element in which we live. If our faith were a little more practical God's loveliness would be as plain to us as the open day and the sun in the heavens. {369} Furthermore, and this is still more practical, lack of confidence in God is why we repine at his visitations. It is easy enough to say, be resigned to the will of God, but how can we be content to suffer unless we are penetrated with confidence in the divine goodness? Brethren, you know how we sometimes take medicine. We wrap it up in a pleasant-flavored wafer or hide it in a spoonful of sugar, and down it goes and we never taste its bitterness. So a lively confidence in God, if we only had enough of it, is the sweetness to wrap around the bitter things of life. Temptations, long and wearisome poverty, ill-health, unpleasant companions in the household--these and other such trials are the bitter pills of the soul; when we fairly realize that God means them for our spiritual good we can bear them with patience, even with thankfulness. Did you ever hear of the witch-hazel, and how people used to fancy that a crooked branch of it thrown into the air would fall on the spot where a good spring of water could be found? Well, the witch-hazel of the Christian soul is just this question: How much confidence have you in the love of our Lord Jesus Christ for you? If that does not reveal the hidden springs of your heart and bring the waters of love gushing forth, then that heart is hopelessly dry. ------------------- Sermon CXII. Devotion To The Blessed Virgin. Why do Catholics pay so much honor to the Virgin Mary? Are they not doing an injury to her Son by over-honoring his Mother? What is the reason, the doctrine, of the Catholic's devotion to Mary? {370} Very fair questions, brethren; questions which you should be ready to answer with intelligence and kindness. So that now, as we approach the Feast of Our Lady's Assumption into heaven, let us renew our faith in her dignity. What, then, does the Catholic faith teach us about her? It teaches us that she is the Mother of God; and further, that, on account of the foreseen merits of her Son, she was preserved from the stain of original sin; that she was always a virgin; and that it is lawful and profitable to ask her prayers. Such are the articles of faith concerning the Blessed Virgin. Once you know something about her Son's divinity you easily perceive her dignity of Mother of God. Her title of Mother of God plainly rests upon the fact that her Son is God. Jesus Christ is God; his nature is divine and his person is divine. And here you must bear in mind the distinction between nature and person. He has the nature, being, essence of God. And he has the person of God; for our Saviour is God the Son, second person of the Most Holy Trinity. What, then, is human about him? for we know that he is as truly man as he is truly God. The answer is that he has a human nature as well as a divine nature. He became man; and he did so by taking human nature from Mary, his Mother. But, you ask again, is he a human person also? No, for we have seen that he is the divine person, God the Son. There cannot be two persons in Christ. He is but a single person, one individual, and that is divine. So that the divine personality of the Son of God takes human nature and unites it to the divine nature. The one divine person whose name is Christ, and who is of both divine and human nature, has no human personality, but divine. {371} And this is the Son of Mary. Is she not the Mother of our Lord, personally his Mother? Can any one be a mother and not be mother of a person? Is he not personally her son? What a dignity! What a mysterious and wonderful eminence, to be mother of the divine person of the Son of God made man. No wonder that we honor her; although we know full well that all she has of dignity and sanctity she has by no power of her own, but by gift of God, and that she is purely a human being. Those who do not honor Mary fail to appreciate the majesty of Christ; fail to understand the doctrine of the Incarnation; fail to grasp the immensity of the divine love in God becoming man. No wonder, then, that God should have saved her from the taint of Adam's sin, should have preserved her a spotless virgin, should have saved her pure body from the grave's filth by the Assumption into heaven. The Angel Gabriel tells us what Mary is: "Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and thou shalt bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Most High. ... The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Most High shall overshadow thee, and therefore the Holy (One) that shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God." {372} Now, brethren, to be a mother is to hold an office. It is to exercise by divine right the highest powers committed to a human being. What wonderful rights a mother possesses! An affectionate allegiance is due her from her son: an obedience instinctive, sacred, supreme; a reverential and hearty loyalty which arouses the noblest emotions in the hardest heart and gives birth to heroic deeds even in men of the weakest natures. A mother is entitled to her son's love by the most sacred of all obligations. Well, just think of it: our Blessed Lord was, and is yet, bound to his Mother by that imperative divine law; he was, and is yet, subject to the sweetest and, for a noble nature, the most resistless impulse to do his Mother's will and to make her happy. He owes her love, obedience, reverence, friendship, support, companionship, sympathy. And he that doth all things well, would he not do his whole duty as Son, would he not be a model Son? Would he not grant her lightest wish while he lived with her on earth, will he not gladly do so now in heaven? Hence our Lord Jesus Christ spent nearly his whole life in his Mother's immediate company, consenting to postpone for her sake his Father's work of publishing his divinity and preaching his Gospel. Hence he worked his first miracle at her request at the wedding of Cana. Hence he inspired her to prophecy that all generations would call her blessed. Hence, too, our Lord has instilled into every Christian heart some little glow of his own deep filial love for her. In truth, brethren, whatever Christ's Mother is to him by nature, that she is to us by adoption. Just in proportion to our union with him are we bound to her. And if we wish to know him well we can study in no better school than his Mother's. If we wish to love him tenderly, her maternal heart can best teach us how. And if we have favors to ask him we shall be glad, if we are not too self-conceited, to secure her prayers to assist us. ------------------- {373} Sermon CXIII. Gratitude. My brethren, we have had a word to say before this about the vice of ingratitude, and of how mean a vice it is, especially in a Christian. Now let us consider the opposite virtue--gratitude. It is, to be sure, one of the little virtues. Yet how can we call any class of virtues little? No doubt there are, strictly speaking, grades of merit very much higher one above the other. But that is not so much from the action done in each case as from the motive that inspires the action. One saves a man's life for the love of money; another gives a glass of cold water for the love of God. The glass of water is nothing compared to a human life; yet the glass of water will be rewarded for all eternity, and the saving of the human life is paid for as we pay for a load of coal. Brethren, beware of thinking there is any thing to be called little that has to do with God and eternal life; and always bear in mind that, by practising little virtues with an earnest purpose to please God, your merit is according to your heart, and not according to your hand. I do not intend to speak specially, just now, of gratitude to God; but between man and man gratitude is one of those gentle virtues that increase our fondness for each other. Gratitude is a short cut to sincere and lasting friendship. {374} And if a supernatural motive inspires one's gratitude to his friends, then a holy friendship is the result. Some people complain that they have no friends. I think they are most to blame themselves. Have they never had a favor done them? Why, every one of us has had a score of favors done him every day of his life. Those who bear it in mind, who say a word of hearty thanks, who watch a chance to do a favor in return, never lack friends. Brethren, never forget a favor. Return it if you can, at least in part; but at any rate never forget it. Feel grateful at least; say a thankful word; offer up a prayer for your benefactors now and then. The best use we can make of our memories is to remember our benefactors. Favors done and favors gratefully remembered are the two halves of a happy life. It would be only simple justice if we looked on gratitude as we do on a just debt; for gratitude pays debts, first in good-will, and before long in a more substantial manner. You know that an honest debtor will always try to save a little from day to day to pay his debts. So we can do a little from time to time by way of instalments, so to speak; we can say a daily prayer for our benefactors, write an occasional letter, pay a visit now and then, often praise them to our friends. Of course, those who have done us the greatest favors are entitled to the deepest gratitude. Now, who has done so much for us as our parents? Certainly, next to God, our parents stand first in the list of our benefactors. Yet many, especially after they have married and settled down in their own families, are wanting in gratitude to their parents. Married persons who are badly treated by their own children should sometimes ask themselves if it be not in punishment for their forgetfulness of their own parents. {375} Of course, when we are in middle life, what was done for us in childhood seems very far away; it was diffused over many years; it was a regular habit and course of life; it was bound up in our parents own happiness. But let us bear in mind, all the same, how true and deep the love that inspired it; how unwearied the patience; how self-forgetful the devotion of our parents, and let us seek every chance to make their last years happy. Brethren, shall I say a word about gratitude due to us of the sanctuary? Has not some priest done you a favor; converted you by a sermon, inspired you to perseverance by his advice in the confessional, soothed your sick and weary heart, or reconciled you to a dreary burden? If so, you ought to pray for him, and especially for your pastors. But gratitude to God is, of course, the first and best of all. From him we have received all, and, having forfeited every favor, again and again received them back from the divine bounty. ------------------- {376} _Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. 2 _Corinthians iii._ 4-9. Brethren: Such confidence we have, through Christ towards God. Not that we are sufficient to think anything of ourselves as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is from God. Who also hath made us fit ministers of the new testament, not in the letter, but in the Spirit. For the letter killeth; but the Spirit giveth life. Now if the ministration of death, engraven with letters upon stones, was glorious, so that the children of Israel could not steadfastly behold the face of Moses, for the glory of his countenance, which is done away: how shall not the ministration of the Spirit be rather in glory? For if the ministration of condemnation be glory, much more the ministration of justice aboundeth in glory. Gospel. _St. Luke x_. 23-37. At that time: Jesus said to his disciples: Blessed are the eyes that see the things which you see. For I say to you that many prophets and kings have desired to see the things that you see, and have not seen them: and to hear the things that you hear, and have not heard them. And behold a certain lawyer stood up, tempting him, and saying: Master, what must I do to possess eternal life? But he said to him: What is written in the law? how readest thou? He answering, said: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind: and thy neighbor as thyself." And he said to him: Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live. But he, willing to justify himself, said to Jesus: And who is my neighbor? {377} And Jesus answering, said: A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, who also stripped him, and having wounded him, went away, leaving him half dead. And it happened that a certain priest went down the same way, and seeing him, he passed by. In like manner also a Levite, when he was near the place and saw him, passed by. But a certain Samaritan being on his journey came near him; and seeing him was moved with compassion. And going up to him, bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine: and setting him upon his own beast, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And the next day he took out two pence, and gave to the host, and said: Take care of him: and whatsoever thou shalt spend over and above, I at my return will repay thee. Which of these three in thy opinion was neighbor to him that fell among the robbers? But he said: He that showed mercy to him. And Jesus said to him: Go and do thou in like manner. ------------------- Sermon CXIV. The Good Samaritan. _Go and do thou in like manner._ St. Luke x. 37. How few of us, brethren, are really naturally of a self-sacrificing disposition! How few actually enjoy, for example, the offices of the sick-room, or so much as a little visit of condolence to an afflicted friend! {378} That is why our Blessed Lord, in this day's Gospel, has given us the beautiful parable of the good Samaritan. Although a heretic and schismatic against the law of Moses, he is chosen as a model because he had a tender, compassionate heart, and was willing to put himself to trouble and expense for his neighbor's welfare. The corporal works of mercy, brethren, are the easiest of the ways to the love of God. People are fond of admiring the members of religious orders, who, for the love of God, serve the sick and the aged, the insane and the orphans; often forgetting that if this is good as a life-work for them, it is not bad as an occasional practise of virtue for us living in the world. All around us there are shoulders bending under weary burdens and hearts breaking with insupportable cares: yes, even in one's own household. How often do men deny their wives the pleasure of their company; when Sunday comes, going off with any chance companions and leaving the poor mother to mind the children, to miss Mass, and sit lonely at home the livelong day. How very often do young men think of taking anybody's sisters to some respectable place of amusement rather than their own sisters! I think that if a spiritual thermometer were dipped into such men's hearts they would be found pretty near the freezing point. But, brethren, the sick-room--ah! that is the place on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho where men and women are oftenest found lying in the direst distress. Have you ever been very sick? If so, you know the value of a little good nursing. A man who was just recovering from a very dangerous sickness told me once that when his head was burning with the fever he would willingly have given a hundred thousand dollars for the cooling, restful relief he enjoyed every time the nurse rearranged the pillows for him. {379} And if you cannot be a regular nurse for the sick, there is no reason why you should not pay an occasional visit to the sick-room. You can spend a pleasant quarter of an hour in cheerful conversation. You can relieve some poor, weary watcher, so that she or he may get a little rest. You can take the ailing child from the worn-out mother's arms and let her lie down and rest her stiffened limbs, or go to church to refresh her anxious soul. You can bring some little delicacy to soothe the sick person's palate. You can read some prayers beside the sick bed morning or night; for we all know that in time of illness it is almost impossible to pray one's self. You can lend a hand to set things to rights, to cook a meal of victuals, or wash the dishes, or run an errand to the drug-store or grocery; and ever and always you can say a word of comfort, of hope, of resignation to the divine will--words cheap to give but precious to receive. And when at last death is come your presence may be of the deepest comfort. Then is the time to come forward promptly and help to lay out the Christian corpse; to set up for a night beside that strange, silent guest in the coffin; and, when you find two or three gathered about it, to have the courage to lead in reciting the rosary for the soul's happy repose. I know, brethren, that there are many kind hearts who zealously practise these lovely virtues. But there are others, especially among the men, who nearly quite forget them. And others still who do them grudgingly, and only after many entreaties. To obtain a kind act from an unwilling heart, and after encountering many excuses, is like blowing a dying fire: before you see the bright coals your face is pretty well covered with ashes and cinders. {380} Brethren, let us not be put to shame by the Samaritan. When confronted with persons suffering from poverty, sickness, death, or any misfortune, do like the Samaritan: forget all about their nationality, or acquaintanceship, or religion. Say something or do something in charity and for the love of God; your neighbor's deepest gratitude and God's sure reward will amply repay you. ------------------- Sermon CXV. Our Neighbors. _Which of these three, in thy opinion, was neighbor to him that fell among robbers? But He said, he that showed mercy to him._ --Gospel of the Day. We are taught in the Gospel of today to love our neighbors as ourselves. Now, if we have this love it shows itself in deeds. If, when we see our neighbor in distress, we pass by, thinking some one else may help him, but _we_ cannot, we are like the proud priest and the Levite, not like the good Samaritan. Our Lord, after describing the charity of this Samaritan, says: "Go and do thou in like manner." We can not pass by our neighbor when he is in extreme necessity without sin; and if his necessity be great we must help him, at least out of our abundance. It is a mistake to think that we are free of obligation in this matter. St. John says: "He that hath the substance of this world and shall see his brother in need, and shall shut up his bowels from him, how doth the charity of God abide in him?" {381} Are not all men creatures of God? Are not all men redeemed by the Blood of Christ? Does God give more of this world's goods to one man than to another because he loves one more than another? Not at all. The poorest in this world's goods may be rich in God's grace. It is plain, then, that if God has charity for all men, we cannot have his grace if we do not exercise charity towards all, and particularly our neighbor in distress. We must love those whom God loves if we love God, and this love must be _active_--"not in word nor in tongue," says St. John, "but in deed and in truth." We all pray to God for mercy; but if we would find mercy we must show mercy. "Blessed are the merciful," says our Lord, "for they shall obtain mercy." But, says St. James, "judgment without mercy to him that hath not done mercy." Mercy shall be granted to the merciful, but it shall be denied to the hard of heart. "Deal thy bread to the hungry," says Isaias, "and bring the needy and the harborless into thy house. Then thou shalt call and the Lord shall hear." St. Jerome says: "I have never known a merciful man to have a bad death." The word of God encourages us "to redeem our sins with alms and our iniquities with works of mercy to the poor." It says further: "For alms deliver from all sin and from death, and will not suffer the soul to go into darkness." We are taught also in Holy Scripture that Christ considers as done to himself what we do for the poor, but that if we refuse to help those in distress it is as if charity were refused to Christ himself. The sentence which shall decide our eternal happiness or woe will be according to our behavior towards our neighbor in distress. {382} Let us take care not to be deaf to the cries of the suffering poor; let us rather embrace with affection the lovely virtue of mercy. Bishop Challoner says: "It was mercy which brought the Son of God down from heaven to us, and it is mercy which carries us up to him." He calls "mercy the favorite daughter of the great King." The reward of the merciful will be very great. "He that hath mercy on the poor lendeth to the Lord, and he will repay him." Those of us who labor in the sacred ministry and those who do work in the Conference of St. Vincent de Paul meet continually with persons whose distress appeals most powerfully to our charity. How we wish the offerings for the poor were more generous! How we wish God would inspire pious Christians to send in donations for the poor! If you would sometimes send into the church-office envelopes containing money for the poor, what good use we could make of it, and how it would call down the mercy of God upon your souls! Brethren, we have Jesus Christ with us in the persons of the poor. ------------------- Sermon CXVI. Occasions Of Sin. _Who is my neighbor?_ --From the Gospel of the Sunday. {383} This is a very important question, my brethren. We depend much for our happiness on the kind of persons who live around us and on how they feel to-wards us. Our Lord answers the question by the famous and touching parable of the Good Samaritan. By that parable he teaches us kindness of heart; he makes that the mark of true neighborly conduct. The good neighbor is the friendly and benevolent one. But may we not turn the question around and learn another good lesson from it? I think we can. The Gospel is like a piece of good cloth. You know when a wise mother buys some cloth to make the children clothes she will get a piece that, as they say, will do to turn--that is, when one side is worn out you can rip up the garment and make it over again with the inside turned outside, and so it will last quite a while longer. So we may learn, perhaps, another lesson from the question in the Gospel by reversing it and asking, "Who is not my neighbor?" The saloon-keeper is not your neighbor. Geographically speaking, no doubt he is your neighbor. He takes care to be handy to you. He is on the ground-floor of the big tenement-house you live in, so that you must pass his door to get to your own. Or he is on the corner you must turn twenty times a day. If nearness were the only mark of a neighbor, the saloon-keeper is very neighborly indeed. But, morally speaking, and in the meaning of our Lord's parable, he is perhaps the last man who can claim to be your neighbor. Yet many honest fellows treat the saloon-keeper not only as their neighbor, but as a partner in their business. They do the hard work; the workingman's share in the partnership is to bend under the heavy hod in the hot sun, or to strike with the heavy sledge on the rocks, or to be half-stifled the livelong day in the hot factory; the other partner has for his share of the work only to smile and pass the bottle. {384} You know which one gets the bulk of the profits; or if you do not, the working-man's wife and family know it all too well. How many foolish men are there who have taken this bad neighbor into partnership the most confidential, and not only give him most of their money in return for worse than nothing, but have made him, besides, the managing partner of their leisure, their friendships, and their politics! As to the sorrows that are bred by the saloon-keeper's traffic, he manages to escape them for a time; and may God give him the grace to repent of his sins and fly from their occasion--that is, change his business--that he may escape the divine wrath in the future. Another very bad neighbor, and one very unworthy of that name, is a certain class of newsdealers. I say a certain class, for I hope that not all news dealers are alike. But there are very many of them who are guilty of the loss of human souls by selling periodicals and books which can only corrupt the mind and heart of the reader. I ask you, Christian parents, what do you think of those who dress out their windows, with bad pictures to lure passionate youth to the early wreck of soul and body? What do you think of persons who actually make a living in selling journals which are but the pictured proceedings of the police courts? O my brethren! how often is the grace of a good confession and Communion destroyed by a few minutes bad reading! How many there are whose first mortal sin has been some act of youthful depravity suggested by what was bought at a newsdealer's! Such news dealers hold Satan's certificates to teach the science of perdition. {385} What need has the Evil Spirit to fear the Catholic Church and Catholic school as long as he is not hindered from laying his snares for youthful virtue in every direction, as long as the laws against obscene literature are a dead-letter? Therefore, let Catholic parents furnish their families with good reading, both secular and religious; let them take at least one Catholic paper, and let them patronize and direct their children to patronize news dealers who do not sell dangerous matter. Of course there are other bad neighbors, such as those who invite you to a public dance, or a moonlight excursion, or a Sunday picnic, or a low theatre. But I think you will agree with me that the commonest vices are intemperance and impurity, and that our worst enemies are those two bad neighbors, the saloon-keeper and the vender of impure literature. ------------------- {386} _Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Galatians iii._ 16-22. Brethren: To Abraham were the promises made, and to his seed. He saith not, "And to his seeds," as of many: but as of one, "And to thy seed," who is Christ. Now this I say, that the testament which was confirmed by God, the law which was made after four hundred and thirty years, doth not disannul, to make the promise of no effect. For if the inheritance be of the law, it is no more of promise. But God gave it to Abraham by promise. Why then was the law? It was set because of transgressions, until the seed should come, to whom he made the promise, being ordained by angels in the hand of a mediator. Now, a mediator is not of one: but God is one. Was the law then against the promises of God? God forbid. For if there had been a law given which could give life, verily justice should have been by the law. But the Scripture hath concluded all under sin, that the promise by the faith of Jesus Christ might be given to them that believe. Gospel. _St. Luke xvii._ 11-19. At that time: As Jesus was going to Jerusalem, he passed through the midst of Samaria in Galilee. And as he entered into a certain town, there met him ten men that were lepers, who stood afar off: and lifted up their voice, saying: Jesus, master, have mercy on us. And when he saw them, he said: Go, show yourselves to the priests. And it came to pass that, as they went, they were cleansed. And one of them, when he saw that he was cleansed, went back, with a loud voice glorifying God; and he fell on his face, before his feet, giving thanks: and this was a Samaritan. {387} And Jesus answering, said: Were there not ten made clean? and where are the nine? There is no one found to return and give glory to God, but this stranger. And he said to him: Arise, go thy way, for thy faith hath made thee whole. ------------------- Sermon CXVII. Thanksgiving. _Where are the nine?_ --St. Luke xvii. 11. [USCCB: St. Luke xvii. 17.] Of the ten lepers whose cure is related in this day's Gospel, only one returned to give thanks, and he was a Samaritan; the others went their way; they were cured indeed of their dreadful disease, but disgraced by our Lord's sad question, Where are the nine? Thanksgiving, brethren, should follow after God's mercies to us, not only as a matter of justice, but in order to secure the effect of those mercies themselves. Just as, in our bodily life, in order to get the benefit of fresh air, breathing _in_ must be followed by breathing _out_, so the giving of thanks must follow the reception of all divine favors. The grace of God is to the soul what the breath is to the body; and the body, to live, must not only draw the air in, but give it forth again to make room for new and fresher air. So in the life of our souls we breathe in God's grace and we breathe out thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is furthermore a matter of justice. The holiest debt we owe to God or man is the debt of thanks. Every honest man gives thanks for favors received from other men, and every upright soul gives thanks to God. {388} It is the most indispensable of all our obligations, because it is the least that we can do. In all our traffic with heaven, gratitude is the only coin we can mint ourselves. Thanksgiving is that part of our sanctification necessarily our own. Well, brethren, if this be really true and who can deny it?--then a great many of us are insolvent debtors of the worst kind. Now you hear it said sometimes that the man who does not pay his debts is as bad as a thief, and in many cases this is perfectly true. So the difference between an open sinner and a thankless Christian is that between a thief and a man who by his own fault does not pay his debts. Indeed, we sometimes feel as if God ought to thank us for the favor we do him by condescending to serve him. Confession and Communion and daily prayer, forgiveness of in juries and resisting temptations so puff us up with conceit that we are apt to blame God because in view of our holiness he does not exempt us from the ordinary ills of life! As a matter of fact it is with God and us as with a storekeeper and his customer. You know why a man cannot get trust at a store; it is because he was trusted before and didn't pay his debts. Now pretty nearly all the pay that God asks for his favors is that we shall give him thanks, and if we will not do that much he can hardly think us worthy of his further bounty. If we do give thanks he multiplies his favors; for he is determined to keep us in his debt, and as fast as we return thanks so much the faster does he lavish his love upon us. So when we ask why we suffer this miserable stagnation in our spiritual career, perhaps the true answer would be that we are members of a big multiple of that original thankless nine. {389} Oh! let us thank God that we have the blessings of the true religion, that he is our Father, Jesus Christ our Redeemer, and the Blessed Virgin Mary our Mother. Let us thank him for his gracious promise of the everlasting joys of Paradise. For these unspeakable favors our thanks should be ceaseless. Let us give thanks, too, in our fervent morning prayers that we have escaped the dangers of the night, and in our night prayers that we have been saved from the noon-day demon. When we rise from our meals let us offer a word of thanks, making at least the sign of the cross, blessing God for the health he gives us and our family. Let us thank him for our afflictions--yes, even for temptations; for the pains we suffer thereby are the growing-pains of the soul. Especially after receiving Holy Communion let us give long and heartfelt thanks for all God's dealing with us; for we have then received the greatest of all his gifts, his only-begotten Son. ------------------- Sermon CXVIII. Shamelessness In Sinners. _There met him three men that were lepers, who stood afar off and lifted tip their voice, saying: Jesus, Master, have mercy on us._ --The Gospel of the Sunday. Leprosy, my brethren, is often spoken of in Holy Writ, and is considered a type of sin. It is a loathsome and contagious disease, and when a man was so unhappy as to contract it, besides being driven away by the Mosaic law, he fled in very shame from the company of others. {390} So it is with the common run of sinners; one of their direst sufferings is shame, from which comes such remorse, such self-detestation, such reasonable envy of the happy state of the innocent, that, standing afar off, the poor sinner at last lifts up his voice and cries to our Lord for mercy. So there is always some chance for a poor sinner while he is ashamed of himself; where there is shame there is hope. But, brethren, it happens in our times that there are many sinners without shame. Many great sins are done almost as a matter of course, and some even made matter of jest, perhaps of boast. Need I mention them? Time was that if a man wished to see a vulgar play he was forced to creep up some dark alley; now he may go to a filthy opera in a coach and four, and with the lords of the land, ay, even the ladies of the land. When you and I were boys there was but one commonly known illustrated paper with immoral pictures and bad reading matter; the news dealers now hang their stands all over with them, and young men, and even young women, buy and read them without a blush. You and I can remember when it was a disgrace for a man to idle behind a bar-room counter and get his living from the drunkard and spendthrift. These men make our laws now. It used to be the pride of a young man to get to work as soon as possible to help the old folks along; we hear now too often of hearty young men shamelessly dependent on their parents. And we know of too many parents who are not ashamed of habits of intoxication nor of cursing in the hearing of their little ones. {391} And how many mothers of families are there whose harsh voices are heard all over the neighborhood, quarrelling with their husbands and scolding their children! Time was when a drunken woman was what Scripture says she is, "a great wrath, and her shame shall not be hid." Now they publicly send their little boys and girls to the saloon for beer. Do I exaggerate? Am I not, on the contrary, forced for decency's sake to pass over other shameless sins, which all but the blind and deaf know of among us? Indeed, dear brethren, the word of God is true now as of yore that sinners "preach their shame like Sodom." The lepers laugh at their leprosy. They run in among us to blight us. Their disease, that blight which withers the soul with eternal decay, they rub off upon us. They do it by bad example, by laughing at the simple virtue of good Christians, by jesting and mockery, by bullying, by ill-gotten riches and ill-gotten power. But we must remember that they are all this time really sinners, and worse than ordinary sinners, because without shame. Here, then, is our first duty; not to permit human respect, worldly position, or a bullying tongue to silence our love of God's honor, our detestation of what does it harm and our pity for the sinner himself. A good remedy against shamelessness in sinning is just a little plain talk. If sometimes, instead of laughing at a vile jest, we should say, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," we should please God and save souls. In the family, especially, parents should create a sound family opinion about places and persons and reading and amusements and all things else that lead to sin: bad theatres, moonlight excursions, public balls, liquor stores, and beer-gardens. A little plain talk, accompanied by good example and much prayer on the part of good Christians, will do a great deal, if not to cure the leprosy of sin in those who have it, at any rate to keep the lepers standing afar off from the uncontaminated and innocent. ------------------- {392} Sermon CXIX. Dangers Of Venial Sin. _I know thy works, that thou art neither hot nor cold._ --Apocalypse iii. 15. It is plain that these words of Holy Writ describe a person in the state of venial sin; or rather one who is in that state wilfully and quite careless about it. Now, my brethren, I do not wish to make you scrupulous, but there is no mistake about this; all experience shows that persons careless of venial sins are pretty sure to slip down into mortal sins. Indeed (on the other hand), about the only ones who manage to keep clear of mortal sins are those who are fearful of falling into venial sins. Save the pennies and the dollars will take care of themselves; or, waste the pennies and the dollars will waste themselves. Scripture applies this as follows: "He that despiseth small things shall fall little by little." If one keeps the dogs and goats out of the garden the cows will have small chance to get in. Keep a watch on the venial sins and the mortal sins will keep out of sight. {393} And does it not stand to reason that, if one is habituated to look keenly after little sins, it is morally impossible for him to be carried away by great sins? If you are anxious and distressed because your soul seems less pure, less holy, less beautiful than it ought to be, with what horror will you be filled at the bare thought of becoming a regular slave of the evil spirit! And how much easier is it, brethren, to keep a sharp lookout for a few little trifles, rather than to be always running the risk of eternal woe! And now I will tell you of some of those who are full of venial sins, and pretty sure to be sooner or later in a state of mortal sin. Those who are content with their Easter duty--a soul content with a spiritual meal once in twelve months cannot have very vigorous spiritual health or a very strong appetite for divine things. Those who are often late for Mass--once in a while they will miss it altogether, and for no particular reason, except that they feel it a great bore to have to do anything for the love of God. Those who continually neglect their morning prayers: even though they make an effort to say their night prayers, they have omitted deliberately the most necessary religious act of the day. Those who are addicted to idleness; for that is one of the worst occasions of sin, both mortal and venial. Those who are stingy, especially to their near relatives and the poor; to love money is to love something our Lord has a great contempt for. Those who are touchy and resentful; for they cannot live in peace with anybody, and peace is necessary for our spiritual welfare. Those who tell improper stories, and are fond of hearing others do it; but as to this class, I am not sure but that they are in mortal sin already: "Can a man put fire in his bosom and not be burned?" Those who are fond of gossip; for God will not permit us to trifle with our neighbor's good name, and gossipers and tale-bearers are often not in mortal sin, only because, malicious as they are, they are just as stupid. {394} Those who, though they don't get drunk, yet hang around saloons, and those who are fond of drinking and treating; and this is a case, my brethren, where only judgment-day will tell where venial sin ends and mortal sin begins. Dear brethren, the only really safe way of dealing with God is the generous way. Arouse yourself with high and noble motives to be a real friend of God, faithful and true in things little as well as great, and religion will seem something new and ever so much pleasanter to you. Otherwise you will not have the comfort of being sure of God's friendship at all. You may be like an old lady who once told me very sorrowfully about how her daughter died. "I was watching at her bedside," she said, "and, after a long spell of suffering, she dropped off at last into a gentle slumber. I turned down the lamp and stepped softly into the next room, waiting to hear her call me when she woke up. An hour passed, another hour, a third, and still she slept on. Finally the doctor came, and so we had to wake her up. But oh! when we came to the bedside we found her dead, cold and dead, while I thought her asleep." So your soul may seem to you only sleeping, only lukewarm in God's service, only careless about your religious duties; whereas it may be all the time, if not in the very state of spiritual death--mortal sin--at least in the torpor which goes before it. ------------------- {395} Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost. Epistle. _Galatians v._ 16-24. Brethren: I say then, walk in the spirit, and you shall not fulfil the lusts of the flesh. For the flesh lusteth against the spirit: and the spirit against the flesh; for these are contrary one to another: so that you do not the things that you would. But if you are led by the spirit, you are not under the law. Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are, fornication, uncleanness, immodesty, luxury, idolatry, witchcraft, enmities, contentions, emulations, wrath, quarrels, dissensions, sects, envy, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like. Of the which I foretell you, as I have foretold to you, that they who do such things shall not obtain the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the spirit is charity, joy, peace, patience, benignity, goodness, longanimity, mildness, faith, modesty, continency, chastity. Against such there is no law. And they that are Christ's, have crucified their flesh with the vices and concupiscences. Gospel. _St. Matthew vi._ 24-33. At that time Jesus said to his disciples: No man can serve two masters. For either he will hate the one, and love the other: or he will hold to the one, and despise the other. You cannot serve God and Mammon. Therefore I say to you, be not solicitous for your life, what you shall eat, nor for your body, what you shall put on. Is not the life more than the food, and the body more than the raiment? Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns: and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not you of much more value than they? {396} And which of you by thinking can add to his stature one cubit? And for raiment why are you solicitous? Consider the lilies of the field how they grow: they labor not, neither do they spin. And yet I say to you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as one of these. Now if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven: how much more you, ye of little faith? Be not solicitous therefore, saying: What shall we eat, or what shall we drink, or wherewith shall we be clothed? For after all these things do the heathen seek. For your Father knoweth that you have need of all these things. Seek ye, therefore, first the kingdom of God and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you. ------------------- Sermon CXX. The Poverty Of Christ. _For after all these things do the heathen seek._ --St. Matthew. vi. 32. In this day's Gospel our Blessed Lord would teach us that the difference between men is the difference between the objects for which they live. And he lays down the fundamental law of his kingdom, that if the chief object of one's life is the enjoyment of the things every where about us--eating and drinking and money and lands--he has therein a mark of belonging to the kingdom of this world. To belong to our Lord's kingdom we must live for none of these things as the end of our endeavors. We may, indeed, have and use the things of this world, but for higher purposes than the world itself can offer; as far as any enjoyment in them is concerned, it is too trifling a matter to engage our serious pursuit. {397} Yet, brethren, is not the whole Christian world absorbed in seeking after what should be the heathen's peculiar treasure? Is not this the most anxious inquiry, How shall I get rich? Is not the possession of riches deemed the most enviable happiness? Is it not the best praise of an individual that he is prosperous, and of a nation that it is wealthy? What a serious lesson it is, therefore, that our Lord expresses his contempt for what is deemed the height of human wisdom among us--a contempt no less profound because so gently expressed! If--he as much as says--if you and I are to make choice of beauty, you may choose King Solomon's wardrobe with all its jewels, and I will take the new-blown lily; if you talk to me of foresight and skill in the business of life, you may admire the successful speculator, but the little sparrow is my model. And our Lord's life was fully in accord with his doctrine. For it was of set purpose that he saw fit to lack those things that nearly all men covet most; that he was the child of a poor maiden, and the apprentice of a country carpenter; that he was a wanderer barefoot and needy about Judea, yet all the time the only-begotten Son of the Lord of all majesty; that he was seemingly a tried and convicted malefactor, and died naked and all but alone upon the gibbet, yet all the time the immortal King of ages. The truth is that this unhappy overvaluing of the more lowly things of life is a fault deeply rooted in our fallen nature. That the eager pursuit of wealth is not compatible with God's service; that it is the peculiar province of the heathen we indeed know. {398} And we know that the human soul is too noble a being to expend its dearest action to purchase any perishable thing whatever. Yet very many persons who deem themselves good enough Christians are quite proud of their success in the heathen's way of life. And many other Christians fall into downright despair because God has deprived them of the things that "the heathen seek." Far be it from us indeed to underestimate the burden of poverty, or to say that it is an easy thing to suffer it. God knows that it is a terribly hard thing to be poor; to see one's family suffer actual hunger; to wander about the streets with no roof to cover one; to lie helplessly sick and be too poor to get proper food or medicine. But on the other hand it is wrong to act under such circumstances as if all were lost, or as if God hated us; that is the very time to arouse one's faith in God's love and one's reliance on his promises; to seek his consolation in the holy sacraments; to raise one's eyes hourly to his countenance by fervent prayer that he may relieve the burden, or at any rate grant patience to bear it. Oh! how few there are who gladly and heartily choose the Kingdom of God and his justice in preference to the treasures of this world! How few there are who do so even grudgingly and doubtfully! Yet the doctrine stands: to labor for a postponed reward is the Christian's life, and for a present reward the heathen's. To pass by a seen and present joy for the sake of an unseen joy is the Christian's wisdom. To trust the voice of an unseen benefactor--in a word, to walk in the darkness of a supernatural faith--is the fundamental virtue of our religion. ------------------- {399} Sermon CXXI. Brotherly Love. _But the fruit of the spirit is charity._ --Epistle of the Sunday. Mark these words, brethren; for they describe the Christian religion, at least as far as its practical effects are concerned. The presence of the Holy Ghost is known by a kindly disposition, a friendly feeling towards others, a longing to make others happy, an affectionate sympathy for their sufferings; and all this for the love of God. So St. John says: "We know that we have passed from death to life because we love the brethren." The necessary result of sanctifying grace is a deep attachment to our friends and a loving forgiveness towards our enemies. "For all the law," says St. Paul, "is fulfilled in one sentence: thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." Kindness of heart, generosity, self-forgetfulness, done to be like Jesus Christ, is the beginning and the end of our holy faith. "I give you a new commandment," said our Lord to his disciples, "that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you love one another." Again: "By this shall men know that you are my disciples if you have love for one another." He thus tells us what his law is--fraternal charity; that is the newness of life man got from heaven above; that is the torrent of heavenly influence rushing down upon us and bearing us away upon its billows; and that is the mark set upon us by which we know ourselves, and others may know us, to be the fruit of the Holy Spirit. {400} But somebody might say, How about the love of God? Is not the love of God the end of all religion? Is it not our first duty to love God so strongly that we prefer him to all things else, even our nearest relatives? Is not the love of God the one absorbing duty of our lives? In answer, my brethren, I have only to say that that is but another way of looking at the same thing; for since the coming of our Lord among us God has become man, and we are born in holy baptism, "not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." When our Lord, true God as he was, took human nature, he took our poor nature just as it is, saving its sinfulness; and it is his blessed will that one by one every man, woman, and child in the world should personally be joined to his divine nature by baptism, and, as St. Peter says, be made partakers of the divinity he possesses. And even the poor, unbaptized heathen, they are to be gifted with this divine privilege by our love for them and our loving efforts to give it to them. Now do you not see why our Lord, his Apostles, and his church made so much of the love of one's neighbor? And do you not see that, whether you begin to love with God or with man, if you do it along with Jesus Christ, you do it with the God-man, and therefore always in God and never out of man? Yet another might say: But, Father, what about the sacraments, and what about the practice of prayer, and what about the laws of the church? I answer by a comparison: Why do men plant and then reap a field of wheat? That they may in due time get the grain, make bread of part for themselves and families, and sell the rest to their neighbors. {401} Now, some may use the very old-fashioned way of thrashing out the grain by the tread of oxen, and others by the beating of the flail, and others by the great, roaring thrashing-machine. The last way is the quickest and cleanest and best. So our Lord, when he became man, invented the sacraments; he established his church as the new and best way of obtaining the ripe fruit of the Holy Spirit, and that way he commands us to use. So the man who really loves his neighbor as himself learns to do it by using our Lord's methods, the sacraments, and he cannot get along without them. So, brethren, cultivate more and more this sweet Christian virtue of fraternal love; and especially in your families. When the children cry, when they are sickly and peevish, when others are cross and exacting, when some are dull and stupid, when the meals are too late or the food is not cooked right, when the thousand-and-one annoyances of living with others vex and harass you, remember that you are a Christian, and that loving patience, great good nature, fondness for friends--to say nothing of zeal for the conversion of poor sinners--are virtues that will win you the kingdom of heaven. ------------------- Sermon CXXII. Religion For Week-days. _No man can serve two masters. ... You cannot serve God and Mammon._ --Gospel of the Day. {402} What does our Lord mean by this, my brethren? "No man," he says, "can serve two masters." "Why," you might perhaps answer, "I do not see any difficulty about serving two masters. What is to prevent a man, for instance, after his regular hours of work are over, from hiring himself out for the evenings to some other employer, if he has strength enough to spare? Or, if he can make such an arrangement, why should he not work for one in the morning, and another in the afternoon? And are there not, in fact, many people, teachers, for example, who give private lessons, who have a great number of employers whom they agree to serve at stated times?" Yes, this seems true enough. It seems so true that I believe there are many people who, in spite of our Lord's statement to the contrary, divide their service between God and Mammon. They hire themselves out to the devil, or at least to the world during the week, and when Sunday comes round, and they put on their good clothes, they change their master at the same time, and, at least for the time that they are in church, read certain words out of their prayer-books, in which they offer their service to God. And they do not appear to think that there is anything strange about this. They think that, of course, decency requires that God should want part of their time for his service, and that he is quite reasonable in only asking for one day out of seven; but that he should have any claim on them during the part of the week that he does not specially reserve does not seem to occur to their minds. That is the time engaged to the other master--that is, to their worldly interests or pleasures. They find no difficulty in reconciling the service of God and Mammon at all; they can be good Christians and also men of the world like others without the slightest trouble. {403} But I seem to hear some one say, "Father, are you not pushing this matter rather too far? Surely one cannot be in church or saying his prayers at home all the week. Some people may find time to come to early Mass and all the devotions, and live what you may call a pious life generally; but I have to go to my business or my family will starve. What would you have me do?" Well, I will tell you. I do not find fault with any one for attending to his business during the week, and working as much as he is obliged to provide for himself and his family properly; but I must say, by the way, that many people, under this excuse, fall into the snare of avarice, and work early and late to hoard up riches which neither they nor their family need, and which, left to their children, is only too likely to be an occasion of sin. However, I repeat, no one is to be blamed for attending to the proper duties of his state of life; for working at his business, if it is a legitimate and useful one. But what one is to be blamed for is for attending to it as if, instead of being God's business, as it ought to be, it was no business of his at all; as if he had nothing to say about it, and his laws did not apply to it. The delusion that too many Christians are under is that their religious life and their life in the world are entirely separate concerns; that religion, morality, God's laws in general, have nothing to do with politics, business, buying or selling, or what they call practical affairs. They say, If we did not do as others do about these things, we could not get on at all; so they calmly take for granted, even, perhaps, in the confessional, that such things have no moral aspect whatever. {404} This is a great delusion and a fatal blunder. A Christian has got to be a Christian first, last, and all the time; one cannot be a Catholic on Sunday, and to all intents and purposes a Protestant or an infidel during the week. If you can't get on on the principle of serving God and trying to find out and do his will on Monday as well as on Sunday, then all I have to say is, "Don't get on." I dare say there is some truth in your complaint; a man who manages his business and daily life generally, as if there was no God in the world, will probably make money faster, and have in some ways a better time, than one will who believes in God and tries to do his will. Very well, then, if you prefer this world to the next, act according to its standard Sunday, Monday, and all the time; but don't try to cut inside of it and get a pass to heaven on the ground that you have used another standard now and then. ------------------- {405} _Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Galatians v._ 25; _vi._ 10. Brethren: If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. Let us not become desirous of vainglory, provoking one another, envying one another. And if a man can be overtaken in any fault, you, who are spiritual, instruct such a one in the spirit of mildness, considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted. Bear ye one another's burdens, and so shall you fulfil the law of Christ. For if any man think himself to be something, whereas he is nothing, he deceiveth himself. But let every one prove his own work, and so he shall have glory in himself only, and not in another. For every one shall bear his own burden. And let him who is instructed in the word communicate to him that instructeth him, in all good things. Be not deceived, God is not mocked. For what things a man shall sow, those also shall he reap. For he that soweth in the flesh, of the flesh also shall reap corruption. But he that soweth in the Spirit, of the Spirit shall reap life everlasting. And in doing good, let us not fail. For in due time we shall reap, not failing. Therefore, whilst we have time, let us do good to all men, but especially to those who are of the household of the faith. Gospel. _St. Luke vii._ 11-16. At that time: Jesus went into a city called Naim: and there went with him his disciples, and a great multitude. And when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold a dead man was carried out, the only son of his mother; and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said to her: Weep not. {406} And he came near and touched the bier. (And they that carried it stood still.) And he said: Young man, I say to thee, Arise. And he that was dead sat up and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother. And there came a fear on them all: and they glorified God, saying: That a great prophet is risen up among us: and God hath visited his people. ------------------- Sermon CXXIII. The Fruits Of A Bad Life. _Be not deceived, God is not mocked; for what things a man shall sow, those also shall he reap._ --Epistle of the Day. One would think, my dear friends, that the Apostle would hardly have needed to remind any one having common sense, or even a little experience, of such an obvious truth as this. Surely no one expects, when he plants some kind of seed, to have some other kind of crop come from it. "Do men," says our Divine Lord, "gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?" No, we are all well aware that if we want to grow any kind of grain or fruit we must sow the seed or plant the tree which produces it. And yet, strange to say, though we all do acknowledge this law of nature in everything outside of ourselves, we fail to apply it to ourselves, and especially to our souls. In matters simply pertaining to the body we do indeed know that the cause will produce its effect. If we sow the seed of some fatal disease in ourselves we expect it to break out and run its course; we do not believe that, as a rule, tears or even prayers are going to stop it. {407} But when it comes to the soul, many Christians seem to think that everything regarding it may be shifted at their own will; that they may go on for years sowing the seeds of all kinds of abominable vices in their souls, and that, later on, whenever they may desire, all this work can be undone in a moment, and those souls, which sin has rotted through and through, can be put right back where they were as they came from the baptismal font, or even set on a perfect level with those in which the seed of every virtue has been implanted and carefully nurtured from childhood. Ah! my dear brethren, this is a great and a terrible mistake. Hear the words in which St. Paul continues: "He that soweth in his flesh, of the flesh also shall reap corruption; but he that soweth in the spirit, of the spirit shall reap life everlasting." "He that soweth in his flesh, of the flesh also shall reap corruption." Here is the great evil of sin, which repentance, however sincere, cannot utterly undo. True contrition will, no doubt, especially if accompanied by the Sacrament of Penance, take away the guilt of sin; but unless it be very intense, and accompanied by an extraordinary love of God, like that of the great saints, it will not, in releasing from guilt, remedy all the deformity which long-continued habits of vice have worked in the soul. Yes, sorrow may come in such an overflowing torrent as to break down and sweep away all obstacles in its path; but how often does it come so? To have such sorrow for sin is a rare and remarkable grace from God which the sinner has no right to expect. {408} All this is specially true, as the words of the Apostle teach us, of the sins of the flesh, such as drunken-ness and impurity. The body will hang on to sin after the soul has given it up, and will drag the soul again down with it. Oh! that those who are addicted to these horrible sensual habits would realize their danger, and feel the net which the flesh has been weaving round their spirit. But no; they go on from week to week, from month to month, making, it may be, now and then a feeble effort to escape; but too often it can be seen after each confession, though they are indeed on their feet again, that the odds against them are greater than ever, and that their weapons are dropping out of their hands. Brethren, grace is powerful, surely; but you are much mistaken if you think it is going to destroy and make of no effect the law of nature. Rouse yourselves to the combat which is before you while there is yet time; for the time may come, and perhaps sooner than you think, when the corruption of the flesh will quench the feeble spark of contrition which God has hitherto given you, and in which lies your only hope. ------------------- Sermon CXXIV. Sins Of Parents. _And Jesus said, Young man, I say to thee, arise._ --St. Luke viii. 14. {409} Many mourning parents, brethren, are represented by the poor widow of Naim, told of in this day's Gospel; and their mourning is for sons dead in mortal sin. These are indeed days of many and various vices, and our young people are far from being exempt. Blasphemy and religious indifference; neglect of prayer, Mass, and the sacraments; drunkenness and impurity; such are the plague-spots on the spiritual corpses of many of our young people. Yet, alas! as parents raise their eyes to our Lord's gracious countenance and beg his pity, they should sometimes confess that they are not without blame for their misfortunes. Many parents spoil their children by bad example. For if they profane the name of God in the midst of their families, they need not be surprised to find that in after-years their children have no reverence for God or for his church or his sacraments. Fathers who come home smelling strong of drink, and now and then plainly intoxicated, may indeed hope to save their own souls by thorough repentance, but are likely enough to have drunkards among their children. Parents who tolerate improper language in the household, and can laugh at a double-meaning joke, and see no harm in a lascivious dance or a doubtful novel, need not be surprised to find that their daughters have lost maidenly reserve, and that their sons are given to open debauchery. Parents who neglect their Easter duty, and who easily excuse themselves from Sunday Mass, need not be surprised if their children fall quite away from the practice of religion and even from its belief. Now, it often happens that children who have been treated too leniently while quite young are treated too severely when a little older. Too much authority should not be used with boys and girls who are some years in their teens. {410} With them authority is at best a medicine, and not a food. To strengthen a boy's virtue, to make him love religion, to give him a bright notion of the next world and of the value of his soul, the exercise of authority is one means, but perhaps the least useful of all. In some cases authority can only do harm. To make a person who has full use of reason a good Christian it is necessary to put him in the way of intelligent instruction, by giving him good, readable religious matter, books or papers; by persuading him by such inducements as an occasional little present, and by a continual interest in his progress, to keep his place at Sunday-school; by introducing and discussing religious topics in family conversation, and by interesting him to attend sermons and lectures. Meantime let there be many kind words and much sympathetic conduct, forgetfulness of past offences, patience with natural difficulties and with youthful folly; let all this go beforehand and authority will find nothing left to do. Brethren, do not suppose that it is always best to _force_ one to do what he ought to do; try rather to induce him, to attract him. St. Francis de Sales says: "You can catch more flies with one drop of honey that with a barrel of vinegar"; and he also says: "For every ounce of good advice add a pound of good example." Therefore it is that so many scolding parents end by becoming weeping parents. Parental authority, which should be merely the supremacy of all that is worthy of affection, has made home hateful and driven the children into occasions of sin--the saloon and the low theatre for the boys, the stolen interview and the common dance for the girls. {411} But, some one might say, what if your child has got beyond you and will be bad in spite of every best endeavor on your part--what then? Well, at any rate there is no sense in railing at him. If you can not make him better, what is the sense of making him miserable? And is not then the very time to lay him, spiritually speaking, in his coffin, and lead our Lord up to him, and, kneeling down, say: O Lord! have pity on me, for this is my dear son, dead in mortal sin? Say but the word; touch his dead soul with thy loving hand; stir him up to repentance! Many such prayers cannot be said without producing their effect: the resurrection of your child's soul from the death of mortal sin. ------------------- Sermon CXXV. The Law Of Charity. _Bear ye one another's burdens, and so you shall fulfil the law of Christ._ --Epistle of the Day. The law of Christ, dear brethren, is essentially a law of charity. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole soul and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself." This is the whole law of Christ summed up, and it is plain that this is a law of love. But the Apostle bids us bear one another's burdens that we may fulfil this law, which, as is evident from the text just quoted, imposes upon us the love of our God and of our neighbor. How, then, will the bearing of others burdens help us to serve God better? {412} That we have burdens, and some of us rather heavy ones, is clear enough; and that most of us are only too willing to have some one help us to carry them will be, I think, generally agreed to. Every one has his own difficulties; every one has something which he would like to get rid of if he could, because it interferes with his comfort. Now, I do not think the Apostle wished us to suppose from his words that God would have us free each other from _all_ suffering, since that is not possible, as we know that hardship forms a necessary part of our probation. We must expect to have something to suffer always. But what he would have us do, it seems to me, is to help each other by counsel and material aid, to make what otherwise might be almost unbearable easier to carry. "My yoke is sweet and my burden light." This is the spirit he wishes us to strive after. It is an unselfish spirit he desires for us, such as will make us forget our own sufferings in ministering to the wants of others. He wants us to cultivate charity; to look beyond ourselves and our own interests, and take up the troubles of our brethren. But you say to me: "I do not see what advantage there is in all this; if I take another's burden, I am but adding to my own." It is just here that our really helping each other appears. It is by this very assistance we give our neighbor that we fulfil the law of Christ, which demands suffering of us. For by our sympathizing with others and sharing in their difficulties our own burdens become lighter. If we simply took care of ourselves and were forgetful of all the rest of the world, we would chafe beneath our load; we would be so wrapped up in ourselves that nothing could persuade us that our sufferings were the very best things that could befall us. {413} By helping our neighbor we help ourselves. We are led to be reconciled to our lot, to expect nothing more from God for ourselves than what we see others getting. We know that they have as just a claim upon him as we, yet they have their troubles as well as we. The road to heaven is open to all, but all must take what they get as they go along, and be thankful for it and make no comparisons. All get a goodly share of what is disagreeable to nature on the way; our own portion differs only in kind and quantity from that of others. By helping our neighbor, too, we fulfil, as the Apostle tells us, the law of Christ, for the law of Christ is charity--love towards God, love towards our fellow-man. Our stooping to our neighbor's need fosters God's love in our souls no less than love of our neighbor. It makes us go to God as our Father and recognize his justice. We perceive the necessity of mortifying our rebellious appetites and placing ourselves entirely in God's hands. How much happier, how much better Christians we would be did we but bear each other's burdens! Then we would soon learn what now seems so hard: that the yoke of Christ is indeed sweet and his burden truly light. ------------------- {414} _Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Ephesians iii._ 13-21. Brethren: I beseech you not to be disheartened at my tribulations for you, which is your glory. For this cause I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom all paternity in heaven and earth is named, that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with power by his Spirit unto the inward man. That Christ may dwell by faith in your hearts: that being rooted and founded in charity, you may be able to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth, and length, and height, and depth. To know also the charity of Christ, which surpasseth knowledge, that you may be filled unto all the fulness of God. Now to him who is able to do all things more abundantly than we ask or understand, according to the power which worketh in us: to him be glory in the church, and in Christ Jesus, throughout all generations, world with out end. Amen. Gospel. _St. Luke xiv._ 1-11. At that time: When Jesus went into the house of a certain prince of the Pharisees, on the Sabbath day, to eat bread, and they were watching him. And behold, there was a certain man before him that had the dropsy. And Jesus answering, spoke to the lawyers and Pharisees, saying: Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath day? But they held their peace. But he, taking him, healed him, and sent him away. And answering them, he said: Which of you whose ass or his ox shall fall into a pit, and will not immediately draw him out on the Sabbath day? And they could not answer him to these things. {415} And he spoke a parable also to them that were invited, marking how they chose the first seats at the table, saying to them: When thou art invited to a wedding, sit not down in the highest place, lest perhaps one more honorable than thou be invited by him: and he who invited thee and him, come and say to thee: Give place to this man; and then thou begin with blushing to take the lowest place. But when thou art invited, go, sit down in the lowest place: that when he who invited thee cometh, he may say to thee: Friend, go up higher. Then shalt thou have glory before them that sit at table with thee. Because every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled: and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted. ------------------- Sermon CXXVI. Christian Humility. _He that humbleth himself shall be exalted._ --Gospel of the Day. As we hear these familiar words, my brethren, some of us will perhaps be inclined to say, or at least to think, that this matter of humility is just a little threadbare, so to speak; that we have already heard pretty much all that can be said about it. I dare say this is true; but when a thing is very important it has to be spoken of quite often. And humility is very important; after the love of God and of our neighbor, there is nothing more so. In fact, the difficulties in the way of loving God and our neighbor as we should, come, we may say, entirely from our inordinate love of ourselves; and this inordinate love of ourselves generally takes the shape either of pride or sensuality. In other words, pride and sensuality are the two great causes of all our sins; what wonder, then, that our Lord should warn us so frequently about them? {416} And the very fact that we think we have heard enough about humility shows that we are not so humble as we ought to be. If we think that we are well up in this matter, it is a good sign that we are not. Many people will say, especially when they are on their knees, "Oh! I am a miserable sinner; I am everything that is bad"; but when they get up from their knees, and look around them, you will find that they think themselves in point of fact pretty nearly as good as anybody else, and perhaps, on the whole, rather better than most people whom they know. It is not, however, after all, about the matter of goodness that pride is most sensitive. Most Christians, unfortunately, do not try very hard to be saints, and are not very much tempted to be proud of their achievements in that direction. But almost every one considers himself tolerably well gifted in the matter of natural common sense; he thinks his brains about as good as any one else's, though he may readily admit that he has not had so great advantages as another, or, in other words, that he is "no scholar." So, to be thought or called a natural-born fool is a very hard trial for any one's humility; almost all of us, I am afraid, would rather be called a rascal. To be considered bad-looking, that again is a great mortification to some people; or to have one's birth and family despised, to be thought low and vulgar, how many can you find that will put up with that? That is the real reason why you so often hear some one find fault with somebody else for being "stuck up"; it is that when he or she is stuck up I am stuck down. {417} You notice, my brethren, that this matter of pride is mostly comparative, as I may say. We should not mind other people being stuck up, if we could only be stuck up too. And it is just here on this tender point that the parable of our Lord in to-day's Gospel touches. He says: "When thou art invited to a wedding, sit not down in the first place, lest, perhaps, one more honorable than thou be invited." This is where the shoe pinches, this admitting that some one else is more honorable than we are; especially in this country, where every one shakes hands with the President, and all are made, as far as possible, equal. Still, we can manage to admit that there are some who are better entitled to the first place than ourselves; indeed, we cannot well help that. But our Lord would have us go farther than this. He says: "Sit down in the lowest place." That is the great lesson of humility that is so hard for us to learn. Not to say, "I am a miserable sinner; I am blind, weak, and fallible." Oh! yes, we can say that easily, because we feel that everybody else ought to say it of himself, and probably will say it. But to be ready to acknowledge, especially if the general opinion goes that way, that we are inferior to anybody else, whoever it may be that we may be compared with; to take this for granted, and not be surprised if others agree with us, this is that true humility which is exalted, not by being put in a place where it can be able to crow over others and thus be turned into pride, but by being granted the exaltation of being brought nearer to God. ------------------- {418} Sermon CXXVII. Vanity. _When thou art invited to a wedding, sit not down in the highest place._ --St. Luke xiv. 8. It is not many Sundays ago that our Lord's words taught us humility by the spectacle of the Pharisee's pride contrasted with the publican's lowliness. Yet holy church repeats the same lesson to-day by telling us what our Lord thinks of one who is vain enough to take too high a place at the wedding-feast. And indeed, brethren, it takes much teaching for us to learn the corruption of our own hearts. If there is anybody we lack close acquaintance with, it is our own very selves. If there is one book harder for us to read than any other it is the book of our own hearts. Yet in spite of this ignorance of ourselves, either before God or in comparison with our neighbor, we are always tempted to set ourselves up for something far better than we really are, and no less tempted to depreciate our neighbor. We are too anxious to exercise the same certain judgment about relative merit in spiritual things as we fancy we can do in temporal affairs. You doubtless know the various standards of worldly preference. One person looks around at others and exclaims in his or her secret heart: With what shocking bad taste do such and such ones dress! They must be very vulgar indeed; surely I cannot be expected to demean myself by going in _their_ company. Another says: There is a great deal in social standing. Let every one know his place in the world and keep it; as for me, I am certainly quite above the company of such and such persons. {419} Another says: Brains is the standard; good clothes and social position--what are they but miserable vanity and prejudice? But I have brains; and I know it, and can show it; therefore, stand aside for me, for I am entitled to preference. Now, brethren, what is there in the spiritual life that answers to good clothes? I will tell you: it is certain external practices of devotion. External devotions are indeed necessary for the soul just as clothes are for the body, and if used in the right spirit give one spiritual warmth and adorn the soul with interior virtues. But we must not be vain of them. And what answers in the spiritual life to the consciousness of social position? The remembrance of many years spent in God's service and the various spiritual gifts received from him. But beware of spiritual pride. And what answers to human talents and ability? Facility in prayer, glibness of speech about spiritual things, knowledge of devotional books, and the like. And these may be made a cause of vanity. So when our Lord looks in among the guests at his spiritual table we may well imagine his saying to one or other of us: Friend, I perceive that you have been trusting a trifle too much to certain external practices; they are very good in themselves, but should be joined to a deeper and truer contrition for your sins and a more practical use of penance and mortification. I am sorry to make you blush, but really you must step down a few seats lower. {420} To another he says: Friend, you are in the wrong place; I know that you have received many graces from me in the past, but I also notice a great want of gratitude on your part; besides this, I see from your present disposition of mind that, if you are left where you are, you are likely to be quite puffed up with vanity. So I will set you down a little lower to a place opposite a good dish of thanksgiving and an other of humility. To another he says: What are you doing there, you who are so fault-finding and overbearing? Do you trust to your knowledge of spiritual things and your pious talk? Your religion consists of words, words, words, and what I want is deeds. So, down with you to the last place at the table; and if I had any place lower than the last you should certainly have it. Brethren, let us be glad to sit down anywhere at our Lord's banquet; glad of so much as the crumbs from the table. That is to say, the friendship of God is too precious a thing, and too much all his own to give, that we should presume to glory in it. Humility, detachment from our own excellence, willingness to think poorly of our own merits--such are the virtues that underlie all true piety. ------------------- Sermon CXXVIII. Behavior In Church. _And he spoke a parable also to them that were invited, marking how they chose the first seats at the table._ --Gospel of the Day. Our Blessed Saviour in this day's Gospel teaches us a lesson of good order and practical conduct which may be applied in many ways. I will make the application of it this morning to our conduct in church. {421} We will consider the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, the great feast to which we are invited, the church the banquet-hall, and the pews the places set apart for the guests. There is nothing more conducive to the pleasure and purpose of an assemblage than the good order and proper arrangement of everything connected with it, and we often hear persons speak of some event in which they participated as being most enjoyable because everything was so well ordered and arranged. Now, all this applies with double force to the public services of religion. Catholics greatly enjoy the public services of the church when every is well ordered and arranged, and there is nothing to distract them or jar upon them. For at every service there is the divine presence, and where perfect order reigns it soon makes itself felt: its calm peace steals in upon the soul, it communes sweetly, and worships "in spirit and in truth." But in order to secure an external condition of things in our churches so essential to recollection and prayer, each one must know his place and occupy it without delay or confusion, and in our present system of church arrangement each worshipper is supposed to have his or her special place assigned, and the regular seat in the church has become a requirement of devotion as well as a necessity of church finance. Hence, to secure a permanent place in the church is a duty of devotion as well as something of an obligation; and we find that truly pious Catholics almost invariably try to secure seats in their parish churches, be they ever so humble. Indeed, Catholics who fail to do this are not apt to be very steady in the practice of their religion; and there can be no doubt as to the neglect of duty in the case. {422} To contribute to the support of religion is as much a positive law of the church as to attend Mass on Sundays, and the ordinary revenue for the support of religion comes from the pew-rents. We insist, therefore, that every Catholic who can possibly afford it should have his seat in church; good order requires this as well as duty and devotion. It is a poor business to be all the while occupying other people's pews, and sometimes, perhaps, be required to vacate them. Pew-holders have their rights, and they must be protected in them. Nevertheless, to secure good order and harmony at the services of the church, pew-holders must be willing at times to waive their rights and allow strangers and others to occupy the vacant seats in their pews. This is no more than politeness and common Christian charity demand. To refuse a vacant seat in church to a stranger is selfishness gone to seed, and they are few, I hope, who would be guilty of such vulgarity. But while all who possibly can should have their regular places in church, there will, no doubt, always be a very considerable number who, through poverty or perverseness, will be pew-holders at large, and to them I would also address a few remarks. The Catholic Church is the church of the poor! This is our glory and our pride. No one can be too poor to attend the services of the Catholic Church. God is no respecter of persons, nor is his church. The poor are always welcome in her grandest temples, and none should ever miss a single service of religion because they are too poor to hire a regular seat. In this church, thank God, everything is free to them, and there are always vacant seats for them to occupy. {423} We not only wish non-pew-holders to occupy the vacant seats in our church, but we insist on their occupying them, for the good order and harmony of the services require that, as far as possible, all should be seated. The only condition we impose is the Gospel injunction: "Do not sit down in the first place" or in the place of another; and if you are told to move up higher, do not refuse. Crowding around the doors is more objectionable than anything else, for there is nothing else that interferes so much with the good order and arrangement of the services. Let me repeat, then, in conclusion, the words of the parable: "Friend, go up higher," and don't crowd around the doors. ------------------- {424} _Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Ephesians iv._ 1-6. Brethren: As a prisoner in the Lord, I beseech you that you walk worthy of the vocation in which you are called, with all humility and mildness, with patience, supporting one another in charity, careful to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. One body and one Spirit: as you are called in one hope of your vocation. One Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in us all, who is blessed for ever and ever. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxii._ 35-46. At that time the Pharisees came nigh to Jesus: and one of them, a doctor of the law, asked him, tempting him: Master, which is the great commandment in the law? Jesus said to him: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. And the second is like to this: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On, these two commandments dependeth the whole law and the prophets. And the Pharisees being gathered together, Jesus asked them saying: What think you of Christ? Whose son is he? They say to him: David's. He saith to them: How then doth David in spirit call him Lord, saying: "The Lord said to my Lord: Sit on my right hand, until I make thy enemies thy footstool"? If David then called him Lord, how is he his son? And no man was able to answer him a word: neither durst any man from that day forth ask him any more questions. ------------------- {425} Sermon CXXIX. Prayer For Sinners. _And the other is like unto this: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself._ --St. Matthew. xxii. 39. How great must be the dignity of human nature, my brethren, since, as we learn by this day's Gospel, our Lord couples the love of his fellow-men with the love of his own sovereign and divine self! Perhaps if we appreciated the native worth of human nature we should be a trifle more patient with its faults. I mean, of course, other people's faults, for with our own faults we are all too patient. The practical lesson conveyed by the commandment, "Love thy neighbor as thyself," is that it is our duty to love sinners and to pray for them. To love good people is easy enough, and we think a man a kind of a monster who has not at least one or two dear friends whose virtues have won his love. But it takes a good Christian to love what at first sight seems so hateful--a drunkard, a libertine, an apostate, a bully, a thief. To have an actual, practical affection for such persons, even when one is related to them, seems quite a special thing--a peculiar vocation, a side-path in the spiritual life, and not by any means the common business and regular vocation of every-day Christians. Yet a moment's thought shows that it is, without any doubt, our Lord's blessed will that we should have a special affection for just such hardened sinners. Are they not men, and are they not purchased by the Blood of Christ? {426} How much we mistake our duty in reference to such poor wretches! When you say of one, "Oh! he is a most worthless creature," how surprised you would be if you could hear a whisper coming from his guardian angel: "Jesus Christ thought him worth dying for." And when you say of another, "Oh! I can't bear him; I can't stay a moment in his company," how surprised you would be to hear, "And I, an angel of God, I gladly keep him company day and night." Surely, brethren, there is something worth loving, heartily loving, in a soul that our Lord would die for, and to whom God would give a bright angel as a constant companion. We are like men going through a picture-gallery: we admire only the brilliant and unmistakable beauties displayed there--here a gorgeous sunset, there a fine battle-scene, and again a ship tossing upon the waves. But one of better taste than common, without forgetting all these, will be able to detect the work of a great master, though faded with the lapse of many years and covered all over with dust. So it is with the poor sinner's soul: it is the work of a great master. And what though it be all stained and spotted with mortal sin; is there no such thing as true repentance? Are there no fountains of living waters in the sacraments in which it may be washed whiter than snow? Are there no gems of divine grace with which it may be decked out as a bride waiting for the bridegroom? Prayer for the conversion of sinners should be far more practised than it is. Why, brethren, look around you in this great city, and if you can count the stars of heaven or the sands of the sea-shore you can count the men and women in mortal sin; and, alas! very many of them belong to our religion. Nay, look about in your own families. {427} How seldom will a family be found where there is not at least one member living openly at enmity with God! Now, just here, in the midst of the worst wickedness, are many thousands of devout servants of God, and in every family one or two souls whose very names might be Faithful and True. And God arranges this mingling of good and evil, that the good souls by their prayers may save the bad ones from eternal death; just as in southern countries men plant eucalyptus-trees in low, marshy places, for the eucalyptus, with its fragrant leaves, counteracts the poisonous vapors of the swamp. If, therefore, you pray for yourself you do well; but do not forget that, if you are a true Christian, the poor sinner is your other self. And if you pray for the souls in purgatory, do not forget that there are many souls about you who are always in danger of hell, and unless many prayers are offered for them they are likely enough to be lost for ever. ------------------- Sermon CXXX. The Christian Vocation. _I beseech you to walk worthy of your vocation in which you are called._ --Epistle of the Day. In the Gospel our Lord says that the perfect love of God and of our neighbor fulfils all the law and the commands of God through the prophets. At another time he said: "Be ye perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect." It is plain that every Christian has a vocation--that is, is called to a Christ like, a God like life. Something more is expected of him because he has received infused light to know by divine grace how to do more. In general, we call that a higher, a more exalted spiritual state. Now, there are degrees even in this depending upon the particular grace it pleases God to give to one person or another. {428} One star differeth from another star in brightness and glory, and so shall the glory of the Christians differ in heaven, according to the perfection to which they have brought their souls while in this school-time of the world-life. Over and above what are called strict Christian laws, which one must obey or lose heaven, there are certain principles of Christianity called Evangelical counsels--namely, poverty, chastity, and obedience. Some folks fancy these counsels apply only to monks, nuns, and priests. That is a great mistake. Monks, nuns, and priests receive grace and are bound by _their_ vocation to practise these counsels in a high degree, and yet not even all these in the same manner. A secular priest, for instance, is not called to practise poverty in the same manner as a priest of a religious order, although he or even a layman living in the world may practise that counsel, as he may the other counsels, too, just as perfectly as any monk ever heard of. All depends on the grace one has. His vocation and his responsibility and his position in heaven all hang on his fidelity to grace. All Christians should practise the counsel of poverty. Yes, both rich and poor. The spirit of poverty is detachment from created things. One's heart must not be set on them. One must not love riches for their own sake. One must feel obliged to share with the poor. One must not despise the poor, but love them for Christ's sake. {429} One must give a good deal for religious purposes. One must keep his baptismal vows to renounce the devil and all his pomps. One must, therefore, deny himself in many things that savor of the pride of riches, even if he is rich. Why? Not because he is a monk, nun, or priest, but because he is a Christian. Every Christian must practise the counsel of chastity. Heaven help us! In these degraded times, to judge by the fashionable indecencies sanctioned by so-called society people--the horrible abuses of the holy state of marriage, the filthy accounts appearing every day in the newspapers--one would think that even the Sixth Commandment was abolished. Now I need not enter into particulars, but you know, without further argument or illustration, that every Christian man, woman, and child would be unworthy the name if they did not, almost every day, make many sacrifices and struggles against temptation--all of which mean practising the counsel of the Christian perfection of chastity. So also of obedience. One must obey the Ten Commandments and the laws of the church. Oh! yes. And have we not also to obey the special decrees of the Holy Father, of our bishop, and of our pastor? What sort of a Christian is he who is his own shepherd, or one who is always "standing up for his own rights," as they say, submitting just within law and only when he cannot help himself? And does _Christian humility_ mean nothing in act? That is a narrow road of obedience and a long one, as you all know; and blessed is he who joyfully walks therein. {430} Instead of wanting to shirk these counsels, and put all upon the shoulders of religious, every one ought to be praying hard that God will, of his divine bounty, give us, too, men and women living in the world, more and more grace to practise all that our worldly condition will allow us to do, convinced by faith that he is most truly happy here, as he will certainly be hereafter, who is filled with high Christian aspirations, striving to "walk worthy of his vocation" and realize in himself the picture of a perfect Christ-like life. ------------------- Sermon CXXXI. Erroneous Views Of Vocation. _As a prisoner in the Lord, I beseech you that you walk worthy of the vocation in which you are called._ --Ephesians iv. 1. Brethren, has it ever occurred to you that each one of us has a vocation in this life? I refer not to our Christian vocation, which we all have in common, but to the particular state of life to which each one of us has been called. It is not an uncommon error for people to think that priests and nuns are the only privileged mortals who are called by God to some special work, and that to their vocation alone God has attached peculiar and extraordinary graces. This is an error we must correct. We have all, thank God, the vocation to be Christians and the call to be saints, but we have, moreover, our own special calling, suitable to our character and disposition; and our common Christian vocation, and in a great measure our eternal salvation, depends on our fulfilling worthily the particular vocation in which we are called. {431} Some of us God has called to be priests, to serve continually at his altar. Some to be fathers of families, and others to remain single all their life. Some he has called to the higher professions, and others to the hard but manly toil of every-day life. But to all these vocations, to all these different states of life, he has attached certain duties, peculiar obligations, which must be met and fulfilled. The great danger, brethren, that we have to avoid is the common and stupid error of those who hold that their every-day vocation has nothing to do with this Sunday calling; that there is little, if any, connection between their own special calling and their general calling to be Christians; who maintain that as business men they can and must act in their own business-like way, banishing God from their hearts and his law from their lives, at least during their hours of business. This error, stupid as it is, is not so uncommon as one might at first imagine. Take a few practical cases. How many are there who, when they examine their conscience, ever think of questioning themselves upon the duties of their position in life? How many fathers of families, listening to these words to-day, question themselves daily as to how they govern those whom God has put under their charge; how they watch and provide for the spiritual and temporal welfare of those whom they are called upon to support? How many young men ever think of asking themselves how they have fulfilled the obligations they are under to parents, now perhaps unable to take care of themselves? How many business-men question themselves as to the honesty or propriety of this or that mode of action they have been following? {432} Alas! they are few indeed. And this is the practical outcome of not recognizing the close connection there is between our every-day calling and our Christian vocation. As every vocation, brethren, has its duties and its difficulties, so every calling has its special helps and graces. God saw each one of us from all eternity--just as we are to-day, with all the weaknesses of our character, with all the difficulties that surround us, and all the temptations with which we have to contend. He foresaw all these things and provided for them, regulating his helps and graces according to our wants, and directing all things towards our final destiny. His grace is always sufficient for us, and as long as we remain in his friendship there is no vocation or calling so difficult or trying but what can be cheerfully and manfully borne and worked towards our soul's salvation. The lot of some is certainly not an easy one, but God always fits the back for the burden. The practical question I would have you ask yourselves to-day, brethren, is this: Granted that I have a vocation in this life; granted that Providence has placed me in a position that involves duties and obligations to God, my neighbor, or myself; how am I fulfilling these obligations? How am I walking in the vocation in which I am called? Worthily or unworthily--that is the all-important question for me to answer to-day to the satisfaction of my conscience, as I will have to answer it one day to Almighty God. Am I the father or mother of a family? If so, do I discharge the duties of my calling? Do I make my home pleasant and agreeable for my children? Do I supply them with suitable home amusements? Do I furnish them proper reading matter, or do I allow them to waste their time and ruin their souls with the vile penny literature of the day? {433} Do I oblige them to come to Mass and approach the sacraments, while I neglect these duties myself? Or am I a business-man who deals squarely and honestly with my neighbors, never on the alert to take advantage of the ignorant and weak? Am I in the employment of others, and, if so, do I fulfil my calling worthily by doing all that strict justice or Christian charity requires of me? Or am I just to men who work for me? These are some of the questions regarding your vocations that I would have you ask yourselves to-day. Brethren, when we come to render our account to God, be sure of this: he will not trouble us with the question as to whether we have been experts in our respective professions, whether we have been successful business-men or skilled mechanics; no, but whether we have been just and honorable, whether we have walked _worthily_ in the vocations to which we have been called. Walk then, brethren, worthy of your vocation, worthy of the church which has reared you, worthy of the hope that is in you, worthy of the name you bear, that of Christ, who has redeemed you. Imitate him, live as he lived, and suffer in your calling the things he suffered. Then the prayer of our patron St. Paul will not be in vain, and we will walk worthy of the vocation in which we are called. ------------------- {434} _Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. I _Corinthians i._ 4-8. Brethren: I give thanks to my God always for you, for the grace of God that is given you in Christ Jesus, that in all things you are made rich in him, in every word, and in all knowledge: as the testimony of Christ was confirmed in you: so that nothing is wanting to you in any grace, waiting for the manifestation of our Lord Jesus Christ, who also will confirm you unto the end without crime, in the day of the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Gospel. _St. Matthew ix._ 1-8. At that time: Jesus entering into a boat, passed over the water and came into his own city. And behold they brought to him a man sick, of the palsy lying on a bed. And Jesus, seeing their faith, said to the man sick of the palsy: Son, be of good heart, thy sins are forgiven thee. And behold some of the Scribes said within themselves: This man blasphemeth. And Jesus seeing their thoughts, said: Why do you think evil in your hearts? Which is easier, to say, Thy sins are forgiven thee; or to say, Rise up and walk? But that you may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins (then saith he to the man sick of the palsy), Rise up: take thy bed and go into thy house. And he rose up, and went into his house. And the multitude seeing it, feared, and glorified God who had given such power to men. ------------------- {435} Sermon CXXXII. Presumption Of God's Mercy. _Unless you have believed in vain._ 1 Corinthians xv. 2. Dear Brethren: The Apostle appears to be of a different mind from some of us, who seem to think that there is no such thing as believing in vain. Do not sinners rest quite secure in their wickedness just because they believe in the true religion? Do they not feel sure of salvation because they know how to be saved? Is not the blessed privilege of the holy faith the secret reason of many a person's delay of repentance? It is against all such that St. Paul stands when he speaks of a vain faith; and our Blessed Lord himself when he says that pagan Tyre and Sidon shall rise up in witness against those who had the true religion and used it only to puff them selves up with spiritual pride. To be guilty of an unused faith is the high-road to eternal loss among Catholics. Some poor souls will be lost because, though born in error, they have refused to follow the light of reason into the church. But we shall be lost, if at all, because we have believed in vain. Some outside of the church shall be lost because they have sinned even against the simplest precepts of nature's law. But we shall be condemned for believing all that our Lord revealed and making it vain by our wicked deeds. A vain faith is like the background of a picture: the eye catches and dwells on the objects in the foreground, but these could not be seen clearly but for the tints in the background against which they are drawn. So what we do will one day be contrasted with what we know; the strong light of faith will only cause the black, filthy sins of our life to be more fully revealed to the Judge. {436} Have you never seen a blind man whose eyes seemed perfectly good, clear, and bright, and yet utterly blind? There is such a kind of blindness; some men really have eyes and see not, because the nerve is dead, and the nerve is like the soul of the eye. So with our faith: God gave it to us to see by and walk by and live by; to know his law and live up to it, to know our sins and to confess them with true sorrow--in a word, to practise what we know that we ought to practise. But some become like the idols of the nations you read of in one of the Vesper psalms: "They have eyes, and see not; they have ears, and hear not." Wicked Catholics perceive the right way; they hear of the dangers of the wrong way, and go right along with this knowledge, and neglect prayer and Mass, blaspheme and fight, get drunk and debauch, and steal, yet having all the time full assurance that somehow or other their faith will save them. Brethren, their faith is vain; their hope of eternal life is not reasonable or well founded; the beauty of the truth they possess is like the cold beauty of a corpse, which makes one shudder only the more from its incongruity with the putrid decay so surely approaching. Yet how rich a treasure is the true faith! What a comfort to know the truths of religion! What a privilege to know our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and to be in communion with him, his Blessed Mother, his glorious saints, his holy church! What a perversity, then, to use all this as a burglar uses his rope-ladder: a means of making a criminal life more secure. {437} But it cannot be. It is a delusion. There is no means of making a criminal life secure, except by turning quickly away from it, detesting it, confessing it, and, by the light of faith and the strength of charity, leading a good life. ------------------- Sermon CXXXIII. Drunkenness. _Take heed to yourselves, lest perhaps your hearts be over charged with surfeiting and drunkenness, and the cares of this life._ --Luke xxi. 34. These words of our Lord recorded by St. Luke contain a very direct admonition against intemperance and its associate vices. Gluttony and drunkenness are closely allied, inasmuch as the former is generally associated with excessive eating, and the latter is used to denote excess in intoxicating drink. Not only from a religious standpoint, but from medical science, St. Luke knew and could teach the injurious effects on the human system produced by the unrestrained gratification of the appetites. His knowledge in these matters was evidently recognized by those associated with him in preaching the Gospel, for St. Paul speaks of him as "the beloved physician" (Colossians iv. 14). There are many passages of Holy Scripture that show forth the dangers of drunkenness. In the Old Testament we read that Noe and Lot were both taught by sad experience the shame and degradation arising from the loss of self-control through the excessive use of intoxicating drinks. {438} No sanction can, be found in the Bible for the opinion that intemperance is a pardonable weakness. It is a very long time ago, indeed, since this vice of drunkenness was first condemned by the authorized teachers of religion. Among the vices it is properly classified with gluttony, which is one of the seven deadly sins. The Apostles sent forth by our Lord to teach all nations strenuously inculcated the duty of _sobriety_ and _watchfulness_ on each individual Christian. St. Peter and St. Paul especially insist on this personal vigilance as being of the utmost importance. _"Being sober_, hope perfectly for that grace which is offered you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. _Be sober and watch_, because your adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion goeth about, seeking whom he may devour" (First Epistle of St. Peter v. 8-13). St. Paul teaches the same lesson of _personal vigilance_ in these words: "Let us _watch and be sober_, having on the breastplate of faith and charity, and for a helmet the hope of salvation" (1 Thessalonians v. 6-8). "For the grace of God our Saviour hath appeared to all men, instructing us that, renouncing impiety and worldly desires, we should _live soberly_, and justly, and piously in this world" (Titus ii. 3). A great doctor of the church, St. Augustine, in the fourth century declared that there were at that time drunkards, plenty of them, and that people had grown accustomed to speak of drunkenness, not only without horror, but even with levity. This condition of things was brought about by the vicious teaching of the pagans, who sanctioned every form of sensual gratification. {439} In one of his sermons St. Augustine uses these words: "The heart of the drunkard has lost all feeling. When a member has no feeling it may be considered dead and cut off from the body. Yet we sometimes are lenient, and can only employ words. We are loath to excommunicate and cast out of the church; for we fear lest he who is chastised should be made worse by the chastisement. And though such are already dead in soul, yet, since our Physician is Almighty, we must not despair of them." Again in a letter to a bishop, written in the year 393, St. Augustine refers to the intemperance then prevalent in the city of Carthage. "The pestilence," he says, "is of such a magnitude that it seems to me it cannot be cured except by the authority of a council. Or, at least, if one church must begin, it should be that of Carthage. It would seem like audacity to try to change what Carthage retains." Then he proceeds to urge that the movement against intemperance be conducted in the spirit of meekness, saying: "I think that these abuses must be removed, not imperiously, nor harshly; by instruction rather than by command, by persuasion rather than by threats. It is thus one must act in a multitude: we may be severe towards the sins of a few." From the words just quoted we see that St. Augustine was justly opposed to the indiscriminate condemnation of a multitude for the sins of a few. And it is very necessary to bear this in mind while dealing with the vice of intemperance, which is so widely prevalent at the present time. The crimes of drunkards are frequently exposed to view in the columns of newspapers, yet the unvarnished truth is seldom stated concerning those who co-operate with them in the nine ways of being accessory to another's sin; and this means especially those who, in cities infected with intemperance, keep saloons, and those who invite men to drink whom they have reason to fear will abuse it. {440} We know that there are leaders in the ways of vice as well as in the ways of virtue. Special severity is needed with those who deliberately persist in doing wrong with malice aforethought. Men who strive to make laws to defend iniquity, who teach and foster vice for their own personal profit, may properly be called blind leaders of the blind, whose fate has already been predicted by our Lord, the Supreme Judge of the world. ------------------- Sermon CXXXIV. The Dignity And Happiness Of Obedience. _Children, obey your parents in all things; for this is pleasing to the Lord._ --Colossians iii. 20. Brethren, there are many new things found out nowadays; but there are also some old ones and good ones being forgotten. Among other things we are apt to forget the happiness of obedience. Of course I do not mean obedience to the church; perhaps there never was an age when Catholics rested so content in the gentle restraint of our holy mother the Church. But I refer to the practice of obedience one to another, done after the pattern of our Lord Jesus Christ. The loveliness of this virtue is best seen in the bosom of the Christian family. Affection, indeed, is the bond of the family, but the fruit of affection is obedience. There is nothing more pleasing to God than the son who is always at the service of his father and mother. {441} Few families are without at least one such son. He is often the one of whom at first the least was expected; of poor natural talents, of delicate health, of irascible temper, or one whose earlier years were wayward. But all the time he was observant, though no one, not even himself, gave him credit for it. Year by year the spectacle of father's and mother's affection and sacrifice penetrated him, till he became deeply attached to them. How much this reverent love for his parents had to do with his religious state as a boy and a young man! It may be true that scarcely any boy ever grows up to be a man and is never a liar to his father and mother, or a pilferer of cake and fruit and pennies about the house. But the good boy drops all this at First Communion or when he goes to learn a trade, and he becomes honest and truthful in little things as well as great. One of the happiest days for him between the cradle and the grave is when he runs and puts the first dollar he has earned into his mother's hands. That good son lets all his brothers go away from home to seek their fortunes; he stays with the old folks, comforts their old age, closes their eyes in death, and with much love and many tears follows them with his prayers beyond the grave. The others were, perhaps, good children, but he is the hero of the family. Then there is the good daughter, who in childhood is the sunshine of the family, and in maturer years everybody's other self. How many parents, too poor to hire a servant, have living riches in an industrious daughter! How often do parents find one at least of the girls who from very infancy is the joy of the whole family; who seems to have received in baptism such a fulness of the Holy Spirit that charity, joy, peace, patience, long suffering, kindness, and piety are the common qualities of her character! {442} The faith also finds an apostle in such women. An intelligent woman, though perhaps unable to argue skilfully, can establish the truths of religion by methods all her own. A friendly jest, good-natured silence, a patient return of loving services for ill-treatment, the spectacle of her good life, not an hour of which lacks a virtue--all this in one instinct with religion is an unanswerable argument and often irresistible. How did it happen, people sometimes ask concerning this or that person, that she did not marry? She had good enough looks, excellent sense, a bright mind, affectionate disposition, and saw plenty of company. Why did she not marry? My brethren, the day of judgment will tell us that it was because God had set her apart that she might be for her widowed mother or her shiftless, unhappy brothers and sisters the pot of meal that should not waste and the cruse of oil that should not diminish. Brethren, I know of no order of nuns more pleasing in God's sight than the devout women who live a dependent, obscure, hard life in the world, and are old maids for the love of God. Finally, you may say that such sons and daughters are hard to find. I answer that there are multitudes who approach the standard we have been considering, and more, perhaps, than you fancy who actually attain to it. ------------------- {443} _Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Ephesians iv._ 23-28. Brethren: Be ye renewed in the spirit of your mind: and put on the new man, who, according to God, is created in justice, and holiness of truth. Wherefore, putting away lying, speak ye the truth every man with his neighbor: for we are members one of another. Be angry, and sin not. Let not the sun go down upon your anger: Give not place to the devil. Let him that stole, steal now no more, but rather let him labor, working with his hands that which is good, that he may have to give to him who is in need. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxii._ 2-14. At that time Jesus spoke to the chief priests and Pharisees in parables, saying: The kingdom of heaven is like to a man being a king, who made a marriage for his son. And he sent his servants to call them that were invited to the marriage: and they would not come. Again he sent other servants, saying: Tell them that were invited: Behold, I have prepared my dinner; my beeves and fatlings are killed, and all things are ready: come ye to the wedding. But they neglected, and went their ways, one to his farm, and another to his merchandise. And the rest laid hands on his servants, and, having treated them contumeliously, put them to death. But when the king heard of it he was angry, and, sending his armies, he destroyed those murderers and burnt their city. Then he saith to his servants: The wedding indeed is ready; but they that were invited were not worthy. Go ye therefore into the highways, and as many as you shall find, invite to the wedding. {444} And his servants going out into the highways, gathered together all that they found, both bad and good: and the wedding was filled with guests. And the king went in to see the guests, and he saw there a man who had not on a wedding garment. And he saith to him: Friend, how camest thou in hither not having a wedding garment? But he was silent. Then the king said to the waiters: Having bound his hands and feet, cast him into the exterior darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. For many are called, but few are chosen. ------------------- Sermon CXXXV. Lying. _Wherefore, putting away lying, speak ye the truth every man with his neighbor._ --Epistle of the Day. Of all the vicious habits into which we are prone to fall, there is none more common, and none more miserable, mean, and contemptible, than this one of which the Apostle here speaks. There is also none about which Christians in general have so lax and careless a conscience. True, every one regards lying as in some sense at least sinful; and many would hesitate about going to Holy Communion if they had told a lie after confession. But in spite of that, when the Communion is once made, the tongue which has just received the God of justice and truth will immediately begin again to offend him by telling falsehoods which are too often unjust as well as untrue. {445} Still, when there is an injustice done by telling a lie; when some one else suffers by it in his character or his goods, there are, I hope, few who do not see what a sin they have committed, and understand that they must make reparation by taking back what they have said, if they wish to be good Christians. But, for all that, how many injurious lies are told, even by those who think themselves good Christians, and never properly retracted or even thought of afterward by those who tell them! The most abominable slanders pass from mouth to mouth; they are listened to and repeated with the greatest interest and eagerness, without any trouble being taken to ascertain whether what is said is true or not. These people who are so free with their tongues never seem to imagine for a moment that, even when circumstances would justify them--and it is very seldom that they do--in telling a fact bearing against their neighbor they are under an obligation first to find out by careful examination whether it be indeed a fact; otherwise the sin of an injurious lie will rest on their souls. There are, however, some, and indeed many, who abhor slander, and who are really careful about telling injurious lies, and who hasten to retract what they have said against others, if they find out that, after all, the fact was not as they had good ground to believe. But there are not by any means so many who are careful about the truth for its own sake, and who do not scruple to tell white lies, as they are sometimes called. What are these white lies? They are of two kinds. The first are those which are told for some end in itself good, to get some advantage for one's self or for another, or to get one's self or some other person out of a scrape; to conceal a fault, to avoid embarrassment, or to save somebody's feelings. These are called officious lies. {446} Then there are others, called, jocose, which do no good to any one, but are told merely for fun; such as the little tricks on others which are often indulged in, or boasts made about things which one has never done. They may be taken back before long, and only meant to deceive for a moment; still they are meant to deceive, if only for a moment, and are, therefore, really lies. Now officious lies are really forbidden by God's law as well as injurious ones, though of course not so bad as those. And yet how few act as if they really were sins at all! People will say, "I told lies, perhaps three or four every day, but there was no harm in them." No harm! No harm to other people; no, perhaps not, except by bad example and the loss of confidence in your word and that of others; though there is great harm even in that way. But there is a greater harm than this: it is that which the liar does to the sacredness of truth itself, and, as far as he can, to God who is the eternal truth, who loves truth unspeakably, and requires that we should love it for his sake. He will not allow us to tell the most trivial falsehood, though by it we could save the whole world from destruction, or bring all the souls which have been damned out of hell and put them in heaven. Remember this, then: there are lies which are not injurious, but there are no lies which are not harmful and sinful; no lies for which you will not have to give an account at the judgment of God. Stop, therefore, I beg you at once, this mean, disgraceful, and dishonorable habit of falsehood; it will never be forgiven in confession unless you make a serious and solid purpose against it. Put away lying then at once and for ever, and speak the truth in simplicity; you may sometimes lose by it for the moment, but you will profit by it in the end, both in this world and in the world to come. ------------------- {447} Sermon CXXXVI. Truthfulness. _Wherefore, putting away lying, speak ye the truth every man with his neighbor, for we are members one of another._ --Ephesians iv. 25. St. Paul here teaches us that truthfulness of speech should be a mark of those who profess the true faith. He speaks of the darkness of understanding, the ignorance, the blindness of heart of those who are alienated from the life of God; "but you," he says, "have not so learned Christ. You have been taught the truth as it is in Jesus. You have been taught to put off the old man who is corrupted according to the desires of error, and to put on the new man, who, according to God, is created in justice and holiness of truth: _wherefore_, putting away lying, speak ye the truth every man with his neighbor, for we are members one of another." Yet, even without these supernatural reasons and motives, the duty of truthfulness is plain to everyone by the light of natural reason alone. The gift of speech which so strongly marks the distinction between man and the lower animals enables us to clearly communicate our thoughts to each other. If, then, we make it a means of deceiving others, we plainly offend against the law of nature, which is God's law. In every relation of life we are obliged to depend upon the statements of other men; we have a right to the truth from them, and it is therefore our duty to tell the truth to others. {448} We can have no feeling of security if we cannot trust the word of those with whom we are brought into daily contact. If lying is common in any class or community, it creates a spirit of distrust and uneasiness instead of that mutual confidence which should prevail. A high sense of honor in men of the world will often make them strictly truthful. Such men despise a lie as something base and mean and utterly beneath them. If, then, purely human motives, a mere sense of worldly honor, will keep men from lying, how much more should this fault be avoided by those who claim to be trying to serve God, and who are constantly assisted by his grace. Our Lord has told us that liars are the children of the devil, "for he is a liar and the father thereof." But we are called to be the children of God, who is the eternal truth; we have been given the light of the true faith. We glory in the certain truth of our religion; should we not then be zealous for the cause of truth in all things, even in the least. Absolute, unswerving truthfulness in speech should therefore mark the true disciple of Christ. "But," some may say, "a lie is only a venial sin." Yes, it is true that a lie which is not malicious, which does not, and is not intended to, harm our neighbor in any way, is not a mortal sin; but it is the meanest of venial sins, and we know that a long and terrible purgatory awaits those who are guilty of deliberate venial sin. Moreover, carelessness about the commission of venial sin leads to mortal offences, and there is nothing which will more readily lead a man into other and graver faults as the habit of deliberate untruthfulness. {449} Cultivate, then, a love for truth, and seek to acquire the habit of truthfulness even in the smallest matters. Every one despises a deceitful person, and there is nothing a man resents so much as being called a liar. If you do not like being called a liar, do not be one. ------------------- Sermon CXXXVII. White Lies. _Wherefore, putting away lying, speak ye the truth every man with his neighbor._ --Epistle of the Day. There is perhaps no sin, my brethren, for which people seem to have so little real sorrow, or for which they so seldom make a practical purpose of amendment, as this miserable one of falsehood, of which the Apostle here speaks. You will hear it said: "I told lies, but there was no harm in them; they were to excuse myself, or to save trouble." They are matters to be confessed, oh! yes; the liar will perhaps even run back to say that he is a liar, if he (or quite likely she) has forgotten to mention it at the time. But as for correcting the habit, that is quite another matter. It would seem that the Sacrament of Penance is expected to take effect on these sins by mere confession, without contrition or purpose to avoid them for the future. {450} But the liar will say: "I am sorry; I have contrition for these lies." Let me ask, however, what kind of sorrow have you? You are sorry that things were so that you had to tell a lie; but if things were so again to-morrow, would not you tell the lie again? If you are sincere, I am afraid you will say: "Yes, I suppose I should." Where, then, is the purpose of amendment? Without purpose of amendment contrition is nothing but a sham. Let us, then, my friends, look into our consciences about this matter, and get them straightened out properly. I do not want to be too harsh about it; for after all there are some expressions which people call lies, which are not really so, because the one to whom they are addressed is not expected to be deceived by them, but merely to be prevented from asking further questions. Some people, too, call it a lie when they do not tell the whole truth, but we are not always required--though we often are--to tell the whole truth; and when we are not, there is no lie, as long as what we say is actually true as far as it goes. But it would take too long to go into all the cases concerning what is or is not a lie; and as a general rule one can by a little common sense find them out for himself. Find them out, then; if you cannot surely do so by yourselves, get advice; and when you are certain that you are all right, do not call it a sin to act according to your conscience and reason, and do not make a matter of self-accusation out of it. But when you cannot see any way to make out that what you say really is not a lie, then do not fall back on the idea that, if it does not injure anybody, there is no harm in it. You are false to yourself in this; for you know there is harm in it, otherwise you would not feel uneasy about it. {451} And what is the harm? The harm in a lie is simply that it is a lie, and therefore an offence against God, who is the truth. This is what St. Paul tells us in this very Epistle of to-day. "Put on," he says, "the new man, who, _according to God_, is created in justice and holiness of truth. Wherefore," he continues, "putting away lying, speak ye the truth every man with his neighbor." Yes, my brethren, God is the truth, and he infinitely loves the truth, in himself and in his creatures. He does not wish us to sacrifice it in the slightest degree, even to save the whole world from destruction. There is harm in a lie, then; harm, if I may say so, to God himself and to his dearest interests. Do not think, then, to save his interests, or any one else's, by lying. Tell the truth and let him look out for the consequences. Tell the truth for God's sake, because he loves it, and hates a lie; tell the truth, and love the truth, for its own sake. We are, as St. Paul says, "created according to God, in holiness of truth"; let us keep the pattern to which we have been made. Stop, then, deliberate lying for a purpose, which is but too common. But also be careful in what you say; try not even to fall into falsehood thoughtlessly. Let it be your honest pride that your word is as good as your oath. ------------------- {452} _Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Ephesians v._ 15-21. See, brethren, how you walk circumspectly: not as unwise, but as wise: redeeming the time, for the days are evil. Wherefore become not unwise, but understanding what is the will of God. And be not drunk with wine, wherein is luxury, but be ye filled with the Holy Spirit. Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns, and spiritual canticles, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord: giving thanks always for all things, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to God and the Father: being subject one to another in the fear of Christ. Gospel. _St. John iv._ 46-53. At that time: There was a certain ruler whose son was sick at Capharnaum. He having heard that Jesus was come from Judea into Galilee, went to him, and prayed him to come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death. Then Jesus said to him: Unless you see signs and wonders, you believe not. The ruler saith to him: Sir, come down before that my son die. Jesus saith to him: Go thy way, thy son liveth. The man believed the word which Jesus said to him, and went his way. And as he was going down, his servants met him: and they brought word, saying that his son lived. He asked therefore of them the hour wherein he grew better. And they said to him: Yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him. The father therefore knew that it was at the same hour that Jesus said to him, Thy son liveth; and himself believed, and his whole house. ------------------- {453} Sermon CXXXVIII. Christian Marriage. My dear brethren, we shall, on this occasion, occupy the short time allotted to us with some remarks on a most important subject, namely, that of Christian marriage. We ask for your especial attention to what we have to say on this matter, on account of the great bearing which it has on your happiness both here and hereafter, and hope that you will endeavor to understand thoroughly the teaching of the church regarding it, and that you will resolve not only to obey the laws, but also to follow her suggestions and be governed by her spirit in an affair in which your welfare is so deeply concerned. The great majority of Christians, as well as of the world in general, are called in the providence of God to the state of marriage; and their calling is as truly a divine vocation as that of others to the religious life and to the priesthood. If, then, the priest or the religious cannot expect to save his soul if he neglects the virtues and the duties proper to his state, neither can those who enter the state of matrimony, if they do not appreciate and endeavor to fulfil the requirements and conditions which God has attached to it; if they rush into it without thought, and remain in it simply from convenience or necessity, without realizing its responsibilities or feeling the burden which it imposes on their consciences. {454} And yet this is what very many seem to do. Of course we take it for granted that a Catholic, worthy the name, will not marry a person of a different religion. But one should not marry a bad Catholic. Many appear to be indifferent in this matter to their eternal salvation and act as if conscience and religion had nothing to do with it, but they disregard and fling to the winds even the most common and obvious dictates of prudence as to their comfort and peace in this world. What possible hope of happiness in married life, for instance, can a young woman have who unites her destiny with that of a man who is evidently falling, if, indeed, he has not already fallen, into confirmed habits of intemperance; whose past and present life gives no assurance of advancement or worldly success, but, on the other hand, every indication of the drunkard's failure, ruin, and degradation? What can she be thinking of who, for a mere fancy or caprice, accepts the offer of one to stand as her protector and support whose selfish and beastly appetites are sure to make him soon trample her under his feet, and treat her merely as a drudge to be starved with her children in order that he may gratify his passion for drink, and to be kicked and beaten if she so much as implores him to reform? Or how can she dare to take for her husband one whose sensual passion is certain soon to extinguish every spark of true love he may have felt for her, and who will, before long, be unfaithful to her for the very reason that made him at first seem faithful? It is painful to speak of these things; but, unfortunately, the frequency of such cases obliges us to do so. Such miseries in marriage cannot be considered, at least in cities like this, as exceptional and extraordinary; no, they must be taken into account, not as mere possibilities, but as actual realities. And, of course, there are others which we have not time to enumerate; the ones of which I have spoken will serve as examples. {455} It is, then, the part not only of Christian prudence but also of worldly common sense, to make sure, as far as possible, to avoid these dangers. It is far better to remain single than to make a bad marriage; let every one, then, before taking this most important of all steps in life, look carefully where it will lead. Let every one, and certainly every Christian, before selecting a companion for life, whose place no one else can take, satisfy himself or herself that the one who is thus selected has the qualities that are calculated to insure happiness to both parties; that he or she has natural virtues and good habits, well and solidly formed; at least industry, sobriety, and those qualities in general which business-men, for example, try to secure in those who are to be charged with matters of far less consequence than the support and care of a family. ------------------- Sermon CXXXIX. Mortification Of Our Lower Nature. _Now if we be dead with Christ we believe that we shall live also together with Christ._ --From the Epistle of the Sunday. The meaning of the Apostle, my brethren, is expressed in one great Catholic word--mortification. The lower nature that is in us must be put to death that the higher may live. The animal must die that the man may live. And if literal death be not hereby signified, yet so really destructive of mere appetite is the Christian's union with Christ that mortification or putting to death is one condition of obtaining it. {456} Human ease and pleasure are opposed to the soul's fulfilment of its destiny. In itself no doubt the natural joy of this life is not evil. But there is no joy of man simply "in itself." It all flows from that root of bitterness which original sin planted in our hearts, and which makes it necessary that we be not simply obedient to God's law, but "born again"; "for," says the Apostle in this same Sunday's Epistle, "we are buried together with Christ by baptism into death, that as Christ is risen from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also may walk in newness of life." "Knowing this: that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin may be destroyed." "For he that is dead is justified from sin." These are very strong words, my brethren. They and the many other such words in Holy Scripture have much to do with explaining our religion--the cross on our churches, the crucifix over our altars, the shamefaced confession, the constant self-denial; even the plaintive tones of the church's voice in her chants, even the touch of sadness in her most joyful offices. Indeed, the true joy of a Christian is in the theological virtue of hope--is placed in a paradise which for him is yet to begin. He is too hardly pressed with the conflict of his higher and lower nature to be quite happy, except in anticipation of a victory never fully gained this side the grave. And it is only when the very taste for ease and pleasure has become blunted that the consolations of the Holy Spirit begin to be felt. The whole inner life of a Christian is regulated by his power to deny himself, and to deny himself, especially in outward things--in eating and drinking, in working and resting, in seeing and hearing. {457} To noble spirits the very innocent care of the body is irksome; and this from no sin of sloth, but because the soul, absorbed in high spiritual things, is vexed by the mean things of our animal nature. Hence the every-day business of a religious man is to restrain the headlong folly of corrupt nature by the bit and bridle of mortification. And this is every Christian's duty. Though one may feel no call but to the ordinary Christian state, yet is he plainly called to self-denial. Outside the church there is little or nothing of the practical self-restraint of the Gospel. And even among ourselves many are forgetful of this war of the spirit against the flesh, except at the rare intervals of infrequent confession or during such seasons as Lent and Advent. The need of constant self-denial is one of those truths that the ever-flowing waters of forgetfulness wash out of our memories the quickest. Hence it is related of St. Philip Neri that he was accustomed to say in the morning: "Lord, keep thy hand upon Philip to day, or, Lord! Philip will betray thee." So, my brethren, there is no grace you have more need to pray for than the strength of will to practise some daily mortification. Nay, pray for the grace to accept those that God sends every day and it is enough. Oh! if we could bear patiently for the love of God with his own visitations, with such things as sickness of body and dulness of mind, with poverty and disappointment, with the evil temper of other members of the family, their stupidity and selfishness, we should soon be safe. Brethren, we are all novices, and God is the universal novice-master, and these are his daily mortifications. Others he gives us, too, through the ministry of holy church. Not a week passes over but we must give one day to God and to our better selves by abstinence from flesh meat. {458} Not a season goes by but the three Ember days are set apart for hunger and thirst. Holy Advent, the penitential season of Lent, make a loud call--would it were better heeded--on our higher nature to reduce the beast to subjection. Meantime, if one wants more self-denial, let him advise with his father confessor, let him consult spiritual writers, let him hearken to the spirit of God within him, always bearing in mind that beyond such mortifications as are of obligation it is not prudent to go, except by advice of a prudent spiritual adviser. ------------------- Sermon CXL. The Value Of Time. _Redeeming the time._ --Epistle of the Day. There is a precious treasure, my dear brethren, which is always partly, but only partly, in our possession. Now and then we wake up to the conviction how valuable it is. There is something which must be done, and there is only just time to do it in; we wish there were more, but no, only just so much is allotted to us. Then we realize how priceless time is. The sinner, suddenly struck down by some terrible accident, and with only a few minutes to live--what would he not give for a half-hour more; for time to look into his confused and disturbed conscience; for time to rouse himself to real contrition for his sins; for time, at least, to send for a priest, and with his help make some sort of preparation for eternity! {459} But it is not only at the end of our lives, or in moments of such supreme importance, that we would pay for time with gold, or with other things upon which we set great value here. Often we would give much to be able to put ourselves back a day or even an hour in our lives; what an advantage it would give us! We look back on many hours and days in the past; there they were, once at our service, but now squandered and gone for ever. Time, then, is this precious treasure, which we shall never wholly lose till we pass out of this world for ever. Its golden sands are running rapidly away from us, but still some remain. The uncertainty how much of it is still left should make us put to the best use each instant as it passes. Who would not draw prudently from a chest in which his whole fortune was locked up, if its amount were unknown to him, if the next demand might exhaust it; and who would not put to the best use each penny that he drew? This is the instruction, the warning that the Apostle gives us in to-day's Epistle: "To walk circumspectly; not as unwise, but as wise, redeeming the time." Saving it--that is to say, not letting it slip by us idly and unprofitably; not only having it while it lasts, but receiving also the precious fruits with which it is laden. How much this caution is needed! How careless we are about this priceless possession which is ours from moment to moment! Some part of it indeed we are generally obliged to employ, and fortunate we are that it is so, in some occupation of profit to ourselves or to others. {460} Yes, fortunate; for that man must earn his bread by the toil of his body or mind is hardly after the fall a curse, but rather a blessing. Place fallen human nature in the paradise of our first parents, and its final loss could hardly be averted. But the rest: how often do we see, when work is over, that the only thought, even of Christians, is to get rid of this invaluable gift, the precious time which God has given them! They seem to have no thought but to lose themselves and it in some mere sensual pleasure, to fritter it away in gossip or some foolish and needless diversion, or to forget it and throw it away in slothful and unnecessary sleep. Brethren, some day we shall want all this time that we are now wasting. Then it will stand out before us in its true value; we shall see that it should have been redeemed, and that it is now irredeemable. And what is more, God, who gave it to us, will require an account of it at our hands. He gave it to us for an object; there is not a minute of it that he did not mean us to turn to good use. And we can carry out his purpose if we only will. Let us, then, beware of idleness; even our recreation and rest should be such that we can feel that he would approve of them, and that they will help us in our remaining hours to do the work that he has required and expects us to do. To kill time--let this be a word unheard among us; to kill time is to trample down the seed of eternal life and to invite death to our souls. ------------------- {461} _Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Ephesians vi._ 10-17. Brethren: Be strengthened in the Lord, and in the might of his power. Put you on the armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the snares of the devil. For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood: but against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places. Wherefore take unto you the armor of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and to stand in all things perfect. Stand, therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of justice: and your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace: in all things taking the shield of faith, wherewith you may be able to extinguish all the fiery darts of the most wicked one. And take unto you the helmet of salvation; and the sword of the Spirit (which is the word of God). Gospel. _St. Matthew xviii._ 23-35. At that time Jesus spoke to his disciples this parable: The kingdom of heaven is likened to a king, who would take an account of his servants. And when he had begun to take the account, one was brought to him that owed him ten thousand talents. And as he had not wherewith to pay it, his lord commanded that, he should be sold, and his wife and children, and all that he had, and payment to be made. But that servant, falling down, besought him, saying: Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. And the lord of that servant being moved with compassion, let him go, and forgave him the debt. {462} But when that servant was gone out, he found one of his fellow-servants that owed him a hundred pence; and laying hold of him, he throttled him, saying: Pay what thou, owest. And his fellow-servant, falling down, besought him, saying: Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. And he would not: but went and cast him into prison, till he should pay the debt. Now his fellow-servants, seeing what was done, were very much grieved, and they came and told their lord all that was done. Then his lord called him, and said to him: Thou wicked servant! I forgave thee all the debt, because thou besoughtest me: shouldst not thou then have had compassion also on thy fellow-servant, even as I had compassion on thee? And his lord being angry, delivered him to the torturers until he should pay all the debt. So also shall my heavenly Father do to you, if you forgive not every one his brother from your hearts. ------------------- Sermon CXLI. Forgiveness Of Injuries. _Shouldst not thou then have had compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had compassion on thee?_ --St. Matthew, xviii. 33 These words of to-day's Gospel are spoken by our Lord to every one who has been wanting in charity to his neighbor. Each one of us, as a servant of God, as a steward of the gifts, both temporal and spiritual, which he has entrusted to us that we may use them for the furtherance of his honor and glory, is a heavy debtor to the divine justice. But his mercy and love are always ready to temper his justice, if only we show the proper dispositions, if only we bend our rebellious wills to the condition he requires of us, without which it is impossible for us to obtain forgiveness. {463} This condition is found in the oft-repeated but little thought of petition of the Lord's Prayer: "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us." The servant in the parable received forgiveness from his lord for the sum of ten thousand talents (a very large sum of money), yet he was unmerciful to his fellow-servant, who owed him a hundred pence. The difference between these sums is by no means so great as the difference between our offences against Almighty God and those of our brethren against us. If we could only realize who it is that we have offended, and then reflect as well upon our ingratitude in offending him, as upon the innumerable benefits he has showered upon us, we might form some faint idea of the gravity of our sin, and of the immense debt that we owe to his justice. We could not then refuse forgiveness to our neighbor for the trifling, and perhaps merely fancied, injuries that we may have suffered from him. "With what measure you shall mete, it shall be measured to you again." "If you forgive not every one his brother from your hearts," you cannot hope for pardon from God. How, then, can we best practise this forgiveness which is so necessary for us? In the first place, it must be earnest and sincere forgiveness. It must be "from your hearts," as our Lord says. No mere outward show of forgiveness will be enough, for God sees the heart, and no appearances will satisfy him. But, on the other hand, the forgiveness will not be real and earnest unless it be shown outwardly. Many profess their willingness to forgive who yet show resentment and a spirit of revenge in many little ways, by looks, words, and actions which prove that there is no real forgiveness in the heart. {464} Then again we find persons who, when they are urged to forgive some wrong, answer: "Well, father, I suppose I must forgive, if you tell me so." It is plain that this is but a very unwilling and faint-hearted forgiveness, which, will not answer before God. Why will not the generosity of God towards us lead us to show a like spirit towards our brethren? We should strive to forgive offences the moment they are committed against us. Our natural impulse when any insult is offered to us is to resent it at once, and pay back in the same coin. How different is this from the example set us by our Lord, "Who, when he was reviled, did not revile; when he suffered, he threatened not." We should check the first uprisings of resentment, and keep back the angry reply, in imitation of our Blessed Lord's silence before his accusers and tormentors. By the practice of this Christian silence many a feud of long continuance would be prevented. We must also "lay aside all malice," and be ready, when an injury has been done, to be reconciled with our offending brother. This is often very hard for us to do, and very repugnant to our natural inclinations, but it is, nevertheless, absolutely necessary. If we bear malice towards any one, we are not worthy of the name of Christians, or followers of Christ. Try, then, to put in practice the teaching of this day's Gospel, and forgive from your heart those who have offended you, showing your forgiveness by your words and acts. There is nothing more scandalous and injurious to the Christian name than constant quarrels and long-continued animosities between those who go regularly to the sacraments. Follow, then, the injunction of St. Paul: "Let all bitterness, and anger, and indignation, and clamor, and blasphemy be taken away from you, with all malice. And be ye kind to one another, merciful, forgiving one another, even as God has forgiven you in Christ." ------------------- {465} Sermon CXLII. Gossiping. _Laying hold of him he throttled him, saying: Pay me what thou owest._ --Words Taken From To-day's Gospel. The Gospel of this Sunday, my dear brethren, inculcates in the strongest possible way the distinctively Christian virtue of brotherly love--the duty, that is, of cherishing a spirit of charity and consideration for other men, and especially of forgiving any injuries which they may have done us. This obligation is, however, so clearly and frequently and earnestly enforced in the New Testament, and from our earliest days has been brought home to us in so many ways, that at first sight it might seem that I could do something better this morning than to go back to such an old and familiar subject. And yet, old and familiar as it is, every-day life affords so many proofs that we do not carry our knowledge into practice that I am sure that nine in every ten, perhaps ninety-nine in every hundred, stand in need of being reminded of this old and familiar though badly learned lesson. {466} For of what is the every-day talk of most women and a great number of men made up, if not of ill-natured criticism and depreciation of their acquaintances, neighbors, and even friends? In the words of St. Paul, are we not continually biting and devouring one another? Are not the newspapers filled with stories which pander to this uncharitable spirit? What, in short, is more common than detraction, and even slander? Yet even these evils, grave and deadly as they are, are but small compared with other manifestations of this same uncharitable spirit. Why, I have been told of people who have worked side by side in the same work-shop, attended the same church, even knelt at the same altar-rail, and yet, for some trifling cause or other, have refused to speak to one another for years! What trouble priests have with people who come to confession to them! Sometimes the very most they can get is a vague, half-hearted expression of forgiveness, but on no account can they in some cases induce their penitents to extend to one another that which is due to every man, be he Jew or Turk, Catholic or Protestant--the ordinary salutations which civility requires. Now, that all this is wrong is evident. Not one of us is so blind as not to be able to see that. But what the Gospel to-day points out, and what I wish to present to your serious consideration this morning, is the very unpleasant consequences which will infallibly follow upon such conduct. We know the story very well. A slave is in debt to his master for a very large amount--an amount which, while quite willing, he is utterly unable to pay. His master releases him from this debt. Whereupon this fine fellow, meeting a brother-slave who owed him a paltry sum, accosts him in the brutal manner mentioned in the text, demands immediate payment of the money, and, not withstanding the debtor's entreaties and his willingness to make it good as soon as possible, locks him up in prison until the amount is forthcoming. {467} Thereupon his conduct is brought to the knowledge of their master. He at once summons the wicked slave before him and "delivers him to the torturers until he pays all the debt." Then our Lord says, and I ask for your serious attention to his words: "So also shall my Heavenly Father do to you if you forgive not every one his brother from your hearts." Of course, it is unnecessary to point out how strictly this applies to us. Many other texts might be cited from the Gospels to the same effect. One only I will mention, and that is, that we cannot say an "Our Father" without making the very forgiveness of our sins, which we ask for, dependent upon our forgiveness of the faults of others. We must forgive if we wish to be forgiven, and this forgiveness must be from the heart; no mere form of words, sufficient to satisfy men, but it must be a forgiveness sincere and genuine, such as to satisfy God, the searcher of hearts, before whom we must appear to give an account of our whole life. ------------------- Sermon CXLIII. Mixed Marriages. I wish to give a short instruction on the Sacrament of Matrimony this morning. {468} If a marriage with a merely nominal Catholic be fraught with dangerous consequences, and be the cause of much disturbance and anxiety to one who wishes to be a Christian in deed as well as in name--and that it is so I think all will agree--what shall we say of a mixed marriage, as it is called--of the union of a Catholic with one who holds religious views opposed to the faith of the church, or who, perhaps, has no belief or religion at all? How can any true harmony or peace be expected when there is discordance in the matter of religion, which lies nearest to the heart, and is more thoroughly interwoven in all the ideas, opinions, feelings, and practices of a practical Catholic than any other whatever? Sympathy, union of interests and desires, of plans, hopes, and efforts, must exist in all true friendship; nay, more, without it association or companionship of any kind soon becomes a burden. There is no remedy for this except by dropping or putting in the back ground those aspirations and affections which are not shared by the other party. And what is true of all friendship is, of course, true above all of that which should be the highest, nearest, and dearest of all friendships--namely, that of marriage. The only way for a Catholic to be at all happy in a mixed marriage is to put religion in the background; to regard it, as, unfortunately, too many do, as a matter of very little importance; as something to be professed, indeed, and occasionally practised, but which is to have no special influence on the general course and tenor of one's life. {469} How can a Catholic wife, for instance, who is earnest about her religion be really happy with a husband who cannot attach any importance to, or see any sense in, her practices of devotion; to whom holy Mass, Benediction, the sacraments, the veneration of the saints and angels, and many other things which are her great helps and consolations in life, are mere idle mummeries and superstitions; who looks contemptuously on her observance of Lent, of Fridays, and fast days; who considers all the teachings and laws of the church an imposition and a fraud, to be done away with as far as possible; who, in short, either looks forward to nothing at all beyond this life, or, if he hopes for heaven, has a different one from hers, and seeks for it in a different way? The only plan that can be followed to secure even a seeming peace and agreement is to bring down the Catholic religion to its lowest level, to make out that it is not so very different from Protestantism after all; to be content with Mass on Sundays; to eat meat on Fridays whenever it is more convenient; to let the pope and the church generally get on as best they can, and to say no more about them than can be helped. Yes, this mixture even in the Catholic party of Catholic and Protestant is only too likely to be the result of a mixed marriage. I know that it may be said, and with truth, that Protestants are not always prejudiced against our religion; that sometimes a Protestant husband is not only willing but anxious that his Catholic wife should attend thoroughly to her religious duties; and we find cases of Protestant wives even becoming Catholics, mainly, as it would seem, to induce by their example a more faithful practice of religion in their Catholic husbands. But these are results which we have no right to expect--no, not even if they are promised beforehand. And too often we find a state of things in a mixed marriage much worse than what I have described. {470} We find, in spite of the most solemn promises made beforehand, a bitter and shameless persecution; Mass and the sacraments forbidden; children denied not only Catholic instruction, but even the grace of baptism; the priest not allowed in the house even in time of sickness, and nearly all hope gone of receiving the last rites of the church at the hour of death. We do not wish to blame the Protestant party too much in these cases; he may be acting according to his conscience, but such a conscience, though perhaps good enough for him, is not one which a Catholic should run the risk of being governed by. ------------------- {471} _Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Philippians i._ 6-11. Brethren: We are confident of this very thing, that he, who hath begun a good work in you, will perfect it unto the day of Christ Jesus. As it is meet for me to think this for you all: because I have you in my heart; and that in my bonds, and in the defence, and confirmation of the gospel, you all are partakers of my joy. For God is my witness, how I long after you all in the bowels of Jesus Christ. And this I pray, that your charity may more and more abound in knowledge, and in all understanding: that you may approve the better things, that you may be sincere and without offence unto the day of Christ. Replenished with the fruit of justice through Jesus Christ, unto the glory and praise of God. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxii._ 15-21. At that time: The Pharisees going away, consulted among themselves how to ensnare Jesus in his speech. And they sent to him their disciples with the Herodians, saying: Master, we know that thou art a true speaker, and teachest the way of God in truth, neither carest thou for any man; for thou dost not regard the person of men. Tell us, therefore, what dost thou think, Is it lawful to give tribute to Cæsar, or not? But Jesus, knowing their wickedness, said: Why do you tempt me, ye hypocrites? Show me the coin of the tribute. And they offered him a penny. And Jesus saith to them: Whose image and inscription is this? They say unto him: Cæsar's. Then he saith to them: Render, therefore, to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, and to God the things that are God's. ------------------- {472} Sermon CXLIV. Obedience To The Civil Authorities. _Render therefore to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, and to God the things that are God's._ --Matthew xxii. 21 Our Lord made this reply, my dear brethren, to the question of some who asked him whether it was lawful to give tribute to Caesar or not; or, in other words, whether it was right to pay taxes to support the government of the Roman Empire, to which the Jews were then subjected, and which was a pagan, and in many ways an impious and ungodly power. They hoped that he would say that it was not; for if he did, they would have a very good charge to make against him before the Roman governor, as one who was a rebel and a disobeyer of the laws; and could thus bring about his ruin, which they earnestly desired. Now, if it really had been wrong to pay these taxes Christ would of course have said so; for, as they had said to him in truth, though they meant it as flattery, he was a true speaker, and would not betray the truth to please any man or to escape any danger. But instead of answering in this way, as they hoped, he surprised them by saying that they ought to pay the taxes which were imposed on them; he commanded them to obey the power, hateful in many ways as it was, whose subjects they were. We must, therefore, conclude that the power of the state, or the law of the land as it is called, has a real claim in the name of God and of Christ to our obedience. For if our Lord required those who heard him to obey the Roman authorities, he would also require us to obey the duly constituted authorities under which we live at any time. For the cruel and persecuting pagan empire of Rome was surely no more worthy of respect and obedience than any other under which our lot is like to be cast. {473} And if we could have any doubt as to our duty in conscience on this point, St. Paul confirms this lesson most emphatically. "There is no power," he says, "but from God; and those that are, are ordained of God. ... And they that resist purchase to themselves damnation. ... Wherefore be subject of necessity, not only for wrath" (that is, for fear of the consequences) "but also for conscience sake." And coming to the very matter of which our Lord has spoken, he proceeds: "Render, therefore, to all men their dues. Tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom." We see then clearly, my brethren, that the laws of the land bind us in conscience. And we do not by any means need to go back to apostolic times to find instruction to this effect. The successors of St. Peter, and those teaching in union with them, have always insisted on this duty of obedience to the civil power very strongly. Only last year, for instance, our Holy Father, Pope Leo XIII., has, in an encyclical letter, taught it to us very clearly. "The church," he says, "rightly teaches that the power of the state comes from God." And he tells us that, whatever the form of government may be--that is, whether the rulers are chosen by the people or not--it is not simply from the people that their right to rule and to be obeyed comes; the people in an elective government do not make the power, although they designate the person or persons in whom the power of God is to rest. {474} Of course no one denies that the civil power may, in particular cases, forfeit its claim to our obedience by requiring of us things manifestly unjust or plainly contrary to the law of God or of the church; as, for instance, if it should require us to attend Protestant worship, or should forbid us to make our Easter duty. But such cases are very rare, at least here in this country. We shall know easily enough when they arise. There is little fear, as things now are, of too great respect for law among us; the danger, rather, is of our regarding laws as the mere decisions of a majority, to which we have to submit as far as we cannot help it, and because we cannot help it, but to which we owe no interior reverence, and by breaking which we commit no sin. Whereas the truth is that we do sin by breaking any law of the land which is not manifestly unjust or contrary to the rights of God and the obedience we owe to him. Remember, then, my brethren, to render to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's. The President, Congress, our governors and legislatures, and the other powers that be are really God's vicegerents, though not in so high an order as the spiritual; still in their own place they truly act in God's name. Find out and consider what they require; confess and amend any disregard or disrespect for their laws, unless you wish to be guilty of contempt and disobedience to him from whom all law comes. ------------------- {475} Sermon CXLV. Thanksgiving Day. _Giving thanks to God the Father._ --Colossians i. 12. This week, as you know, my brethren, a day has been appointed by the civil authorities, according to long-established custom, which we are invited to devote specially to thanksgiving for the many blessings which we have received from God during the year. And though the observance of this day is not an ecclesiastical obligation, yet there is a singular appropriateness in it for us on account of its falling just at the close of the year which the church celebrates. At this time, when we have completed the round of the mysteries of our faith, and are about to recommence it in the season of Advent, it must naturally occur to us to look back and thank God, not only for all his temporal benefits, but also and especially for the spiritual blessings which he has given us, and which we have just finished commemorating. Even in the temporal order, however, we have abundant cause to be grateful to God. True, we have had our trials and sufferings, some more, some less; though even these we can perhaps even now see, and shall see more clearly hereafter, to have been blessings in disguise. But we have had much happiness and comfort in spite of these trials. Surely we ought not to pass this by unnoticed. But this is just what we are too likely to do. Somehow or other, we are all apt to take things when they go right as a matter of course, and only to notice them when they go wrong. When we are sick we complain and make a great fuss, and perhaps are not satisfied unless we can make everybody else unhappy as well as ourselves; but when we are well, that is just as it should be: no thanks to anybody for that. {476} No thanks to God, whose loving care and providence are necessary, and are given to us at each moment of our lives, and who is continually warding off from us a thousand dangers to which we are exposed, often through our own fault; no thanks to him whose angels watch over us to keep us in all our ways. By our ignorance and imprudence we are frequently endangering this wondrous life which he has given us; with all the science in the world, we do not understand it and could not direct it; it is he who causes our breath to come, our hearts to beat, and our blood to flow in our veins. So also in the common affairs of life, our industry and skill would avail nothing if God did not come to our assistance. If our work or business prospers at all, it is due to him; it is his free gift. And all the conveniences of modern life which we pride ourselves so much on are the fruits of his power and skill which he lends us. It is he who shines on us, not only by the sun and moon, but also in those lights which we think that we ourselves produce; it is he who sends our telegraphic messages for us, who carries us where we will in our steamers and railway trains. These perpetual and ordinary comforts of life, then, in which we all share, as well as our very life itself, are God's gift. And beside these, are there not more blessings which we can see if we look back on the year, standing out from the rest? Have we thanked him for all these? If not, let us then really make this a time to atone for past neglect; a time of thanksgiving in deed as well as in name. {477} But, above all, let us, whom he has given the signal and unspeakable blessing of the true faith, thank him for that. To those who have just come from the doubt and confusion of the world outside this true church this is a happiness which outweighs all troubles, a perpetual sunshine which drives away all clouds. Why should it not be so to us all? This is what St. Paul in his epistle wishes that it should be. "Giving thanks," he says, "to God the Father, who has made us worthy to be partakers of the lot of the saints in light, who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of the Son of his love, in whom we have redemption through his Blood, the remission of sins." Let us think on these words, and see if there is not enough in them to make at least one Thanksgiving day. ------------------- Sermon CXLVI. The Communion Of Saints. We are so near the Feast of All Saints and the commemoration of all the faithful departed--All Souls day--that we may well let our affectionate thoughts follow after our brethren who have gone before us and sleep in the peace of Christ. There is scarcely one of us, dear brethren, who has not been familiar from childhood with the article of the Apostles Creed, "I believe in the communion of saints"; and there are few, if any, who have not derived consolation from this dogma of our faith, teaching, as it does, that we are not entirely cut off from those who have gone before us, but form with them one great family, of which the head is Christ and the members the souls of the just, whether in heaven or in purgatory, or still in the flesh. {478} But if this truth of holy religion brings consolation, it brings also the duty of praying for our brethren who are passing through the cleansing fires of purgatory; who, because of sin or the debt due for sin, cannot enter their eternal home until they have repaid the last farthing. They can do nothing for themselves--their day of meriting is past; they look to us who are their friends to help them. While they were with us they were very dear to us--bound to us by ties of blood or friendship. Let us do our duty to them now; let us, by our good works in their behalf, show how much we love them; let us show that our affection for them was not selfish nor pretended, but so real and strong and lasting that death has but strengthened it and brought it to its fulness. What one of us but has his daily task--his allotted work? Yet as each day brings its own burdens, so each day is full of opportunities of gaining indulgence for the souls in purgatory. The many inconveniences we all of us are called upon to suffer, the many sacrifices of comfort and of pleasure we make, the disappointments we meet with, the fatigues we bear--all these may be made sources of refreshment to our friends beyond the grave. If in the morning we would but offer to God all we shall do and suffer during the day for his honor and glory, and for the relief of the departed, oh! how soon would the angels welcome them to their true country, and how many advocates we should have before the throne of God! {479} But if so much can be done without any particular effort on our part, what shall we say of the efficacy of the special prayers we recite for them and the Masses we have offered for their repose! How shall we tell of their gratitude, of their unceasing supplications for us! We lose nothing, dear brethren, by praying for them; be assured we are rather the gainers, for not only do they pray for us, but more--our charity towards them deepens in our souls our love for God, and makes us thirst the more after virtue and holiness, and wins for us a higher place in heaven and a brighter crown of everlasting glory. Let us be generous, then; let us storm heaven with our prayers for the souls in purgatory, and we shall find rest for ourselves as well as for them. ------------------- {480} _Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Philippians iii._ 17; iv. 3. Be followers of me, brethren, and observe them who walk so as you have our model. For many walk, of whom I have told you often (and now tell you weeping) that they are enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame: who mind earthly things. But our conversation is in heaven: from whence also we wait for the Saviour, our Lord Jesus Christ, who will reform the body of our lowness, made like to the body of his glory, according to the operation whereby also he is able to subdue all things unto himself. Therefore, my dearly beloved brethren, and most desired, my joy and my crown; so stand fast in the Lord, my most dearly beloved. I beg of Euodia, and I beseech Syntyche to be of one mind in the Lord. And I entreat thee, my sincere companion, help those women who have labored with me in the Gospel, with Clement and the rest of my fellow-laborers, whose names are in the book of life. Gospel. _St. Matthew ix._ 18-26. At that time: As Jesus was speaking these things unto them, behold a certain ruler came, and adored him, saying: Lord, my daughter is just now dead; but come, lay thy hand upon her, and she shall live. And Jesus, rising up, followed him, with his disciples. And behold a woman who was troubled with an issue of blood twelve years, came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment. For she said within herself: If I shall but touch his garment I shall be healed. But Jesus, turning about and seeing her, said: Take courage, daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole. {481} And the woman was made whole from that hour. And when Jesus came into the house of the ruler, and saw the minstrels and the crowd making a rout, he said: Give place, for the girl is not dead, but sleepeth. And they laughed at him. And when the crowd was turned out he went in, and took her by the hand. And the girl arose. And the fame hereof went abroad into all that country. ------------------- Sermon CXLVII. Mixed Marriages. From the simplest lessons of experience, my dear brethren, I think it ought to be plain enough how miserable a thing a mixed marriage is likely to be. Even if the faith and practice of the Catholic party and of the children is what it should be--which is certainly hardly to be expected--there will be great and continual suffering to them on account of the separation of the Protestant father or mother--who is all the more loved the better and kinder he or she may be--from the unity of the church and from the ordinary means of salvation. In fact, it can hardly be imagined how any one having a lively faith in the Catholic religion can marry a Protestant or infidel, unless under the influence of a hope that some time or other the conversion of the other party will be effected. This hope does occasionally prove not to be a vain one. There are cases, no doubt, in which a Protestant, who would not probably otherwise have turned his thoughts to the question at all, does become a Catholic by means of marriage. {482} But the best chance to obtain such a conversion is before the marriage is entered on; that is the time to try to secure it; and it is the duty of every Catholic who thinks of marrying one outside the church to do the best in his or her power to bring the other party over, not only in name but in fact, to the true faith. I say in fact, for, unfortunately, many a non-Catholic, who has no strong conviction about religion in any way, will be willing to call himself a Catholic, and even to be baptized, in order to remove objections which may be made. Take care, then, that the conversion which is professed is a sincere and genuine one, and not merely got up for the occasion. I have heard of a case in which the Protestant party, when his religion was urged by the priest as an objection to the marriage, which would make trouble, most cheerfully replied: "Well, father, if it would be any convenience to you, I am quite ready to be a Catholic." Such converts are not so very uncommon, though it is not often that they let their state of mind be seen so plainly. They will sit through several instructions given to them by the priest, making no question or remark about anything which he says, that they may get through as soon as possible; and when they do get through, that is about the last of their Catholic profession, or at least of their attendance to any Catholic duties. If, then, a conversion, and a real and true conversion, cannot be obtained before marriage, there is certainly much fear that it never will be accomplished afterward. Be warned, then, in time; do not indulge false hopes in this regard; do not marry in haste and repent at leisure. {483} And about this matter of conversion I will say a few words, with reference not to Protestants, but to careless and negligent Catholics. A Catholic who is negligent of his duties has, it is true, if he keeps his faith, a resource which the Protestant has not; he knows what to do to be reconciled with God at the last; he will probably try to do it, and he may succeed. There is then more hope for his final salvation in this way than for the Protestant; but that does not make him a better companion during life; and many of the miseries of a mixed marriage are met with, and some, perhaps, even in a greater degree, with nominal Catholics than with Protestants. If, then, you contemplate marriage even with a Catholic, be sure to see that he or she attends to the duties required of Catholics, and has not contracted vicious and dangerous habits. Do not delude yourself with the idea that a confession and Communion must be made at the time of the marriage, and that the priest will attend to all that is necessary. For this confession and Communion may be in some cases not so very good and fervent; they may be something like what some Protestants, as I have said, go through with for convenience or necessity. No, do not leave it all to the priest, but do your own part. If the behavior of the other party before marriage is not such as becomes a Christian, both with regard to the frequentation of the sacraments and also in the matter of temperance and in others of which you are the best and indeed the only judge, it is not likely that it will be so afterward. Take care, then, before taking a step which you cannot retrace. You, not the priest, are the one to secure now the amendment of life which is so necessary. A word to the wise should be sufficient. ------------------- {484} Sermon CXLVIII. Imitation Of The Saints. _My fellow-laborers, whose names are in the book of life._ --Philippians iv. 3. Thus does St. Paul in the Epistle of to-day speak of St. Clement and the others who had "labored with him in the Gospel." Do you wish that your name, too, should be written in the book of life? Follow the path trodden here below by the saints of God, and then, even while yet on earth, your name will be recorded in heaven. For holy church commands us to observe this festival of All Saints, of which we are now keeping the octave, not only in honor of those whose names are in the calendar, and whose feasts come round in the course of each year, but also in praise of that great multitude which no man can number--of all nations, and tribes, and peoples, and tongues--who stand before the throne and in sight of the Lamb, clothed with white robes and palms in their hands. The saints whom the church has honored with canonization are but a small number in that vast multitude. They were the heroes of the Christian army, but the great majority of those who are now receiving the homage of the church were the rank and file--common every day Christians, like ourselves. The festival of All Saints, therefore, especially appeals to us by showing us that sanctity is not something away off out of our reach and entirely beyond our powers, but that it is what we must each strive after if we hope to win heaven. For nothing defiled can enter there, and without holiness no man shall see God, As, then, we hope to be one day saints in heaven, we must try now to be saints on earth. {485} That is why St. Paul addresses all the faithful as the "beloved of God, called to be saints." Yet many Christians are forgetful of this high vocation. They seem to think that God has laid down one rule, one course of life for saints, and quite another for ordinary people. This is all a mistake. God's law is the same for every one. There are, indeed, special duties belonging to particular states of life, but apart from these there is no difference in what is required of every Christian. We are all of us bound to follow the strait and narrow way which leadeth unto life. The chief happiness of that life will consist in the sight of God, to be always in his presence, serving him continually in joy and thanksgiving. And the way to this life our Lord has told us in the sermon on the Mount: "Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God." So, then, in order to attain to this life, to dwell for ever in the sight of God, it is not necessary to imitate the saints in their extraordinary deeds, their heroic acts of penance and self-sacrifice, their suffering for the faith. Some of us are, indeed, called upon to stand out conspicuously among other Christians, as they did, and show to the world an example of courage and heroism. But for all of us the hidden virtues are the ones required, and if we cultivate these, God, who seeth in secret, will himself reward us openly in the day when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed. The one thing needful for each one of us is purity of heart, to cleanse our hearts from sin and from all affection towards sin. "Dearly beloved," says St. John, "if our heart do not reprehend us, we have confidence towards God." {486} See to it, then, that your heart is all right towards God. Cleanse your soul from mortal sin by turning your heart away from the sin you have committed by sincere and hearty contrition and by a good confession. Then _keep_ your heart right towards God by giving it to him who says to you, "My son, give me thy heart." God alone is worthy of the full love of our hearts, and he alone can satisfy the heart of man. If we set our affections upon sin or upon the passing things of this world there is reserved for us in the end nothing but unsatisfied longings and bitterness of heart. But if we purify our hearts from every affection that would lead us away from God we shall indeed be called "blessed," and our names shall be written in the book of life. ------------------- Sermon CXLIX. Heaven. _Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven._ --St. Matthew. v. 2. [USCCB: Matthew. v. 3.] All Saints' day is a solemn and glorious festival for all heaven as well as for all the world; for to-day God is praised, and the great salvation by our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ magnified and lauded by a common, universal act of holy congratulation and worship among all the saints--that is, among all souls that are united to God in the communion of saints, whether in the church triumphant, in the church suffering, or in the church militant. {487} It seems to me that none but Catholics believe in heaven, the eternal home of the saints after death, because they alone appear to understand what a saint is, as the church has proved herself to be the only power which has been able to train and canonize one. Yes, all we can know of heaven is, that it is the reward, the everlasting life, the new and divine state of being which the saints enter into and enjoy when they have left this world--that is, when they die in the church militant and rise in glory in the church triumphant. If any Christian, then, or so-called Christian, fancies he can meditate about heaven, and hopes to get there without knowing what a saint is, and without striving to be as near one as he can, he is simply deceiving himself. I fear that the kind of place some people think would be a good enough heaven for them, if we are to judge by the way they live, is, in fact, not much above what the state of hell really is. Many are the souls who ought to have been saints, and are damned because they were unfaithful to the vocation God gave them, and too sensual to make the necessary sacrifices that such a vocation demanded. What kind of a heaven, for instance, do you think the many intelligent Protestants we meet with every day will likely get, who know they ought to become Catholics to save their souls, and are yet afraid to take the step; who stand still and count the cost, and cheat their consciences with the false doctrine that no real sacrifices are demanded of them, because God will be more glorified if they leave all to him and do nothing themselves? And yet these people, and a good many Catholics, too, are living just such lives, and in their deaths they will not be divided. {488} And now do you say: O Father! tell us, then, what a saint is, that we may be sure we are not all wrong, but may have some hope of imitating such, and so join the company of the glorified ones in heaven when we die! I answer: A saint is one who does everything he feels that God wants him to do, and carefully gives up and avoids everything that he feels is not pleasing to God. Apply that to yourself. God does not want the same thing of everybody, nor require all to make the same sacrifices. So that, as a fact, there are all kinds of saints, as we know. But in what he does require he demands that one should aim at doing it _perfectly_. "Be ye perfect, as your Heavenly Father is perfect," said our Lord. Be perfectly honest, be perfectly pure, be perfectly sober, be perfectly charitable, be perfectly obedient to the laws of God and man, be perfectly humble, be perfectly free from loving money or other riches. Don't let me ever hear you say again that you are "a man of the world and must live in it" as an excuse for the wretched apology for a Christian life you lead. You know that is a lie. You are a man, and _a Christian man of the kingdom of God and of his saints_, and _that_ is the kind of a place you live in, and must square your life accordingly, or you will never see the kingdom of God and of his saints in glory, which is heaven, when you die. In to-day's Gospel our Lord pronounces the eight beatitudes. Think on them, and, if you do not know them by heart, take out your Bible when you go home and read them at the beginning of the fifth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel. So live that you will merit to be one of those our Lord declares to be "blessed," and you will surely be a saint. ------------------- {489} _Easter being a movable Feast which can occur on any day from the 22d of March to the 25th of April, the number of Sundays between Epiphany and Septuagesima, and between Pentecost and Advent, varies according to the situation of Easter. There are always at least two Sundays, unless Epiphany falls on a Sunday, and never more than six, between Epiphany and Septuagesima. Likewise, there are never fewer than twenty-three Sundays after Pentecost, or more than twenty-eight. The Gospel and Epistle for the last Sunday after Pentecost are always the same. When there are twenty-three Sundays, the Gospel and Epistle for the last Sunday are substituted for those of the twenty-third. When there are twenty-five Sundays, the Gospel and Epistle for the sixth Sunday after Epiphany are taken; when there are twenty-six, those also of the fifth after Epiphany; when there are twenty-seven, those of the fourth, and when there are twenty-eight, those of the third, in order to fill up the interval which occurs. In any year, in which there are more than twenty-four Sundays after Pentecost, proper sermons for these Sundays are to be found among those which are arranged for the Sundays following the Feast of the Epiphany. If one sermon is wanting, it is taken from the sixth Sunday after Epiphany; if two, three, or four are needed, the last two or three or four sermons which precede Septuagesima are to be taken, in their order. _ ------------------- {490} _Twenty-fourth or Last Sunday after Pentecost._ Epistle. _Colossians i._ 9-14. Brethren: We cease not to pray for you, and to beg that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding: that you may walk worthy of God, in all things pleasing: being fruitful in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God: strengthened with all might according to the power of his glory, in all patience and long-suffering with joy, giving thanks to God the Father, who hath made us worthy to be partakers of the lot of the saints in light: who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of the Son of his love: in whom we have redemption through his blood, the remission of sins. Gospel. _St. Matthew xxiv._ 15-35. At that time Jesus said to his disciples: When you shall see "the abomination of desolation," which was spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing in the holy place: he that readeth, let him understand. Then let those that are in Judea flee to the mountains. And he that is on the house-top, let him not come down to take anything out of his house: and he that is in the field, let him not go back to take his coat. And woe to them that are with child, and that give suck in those days. But pray that your flight be not in the winter or on the Sabbath. For there shall be then great tribulation, such as hath not been from the beginning of the world until now, neither shall be. And unless those days had been shortened, no flesh should be saved: but for the sake of the elect those days shall be shortened. {491} Then, if any man shall say to you: Lo, here is Christ, or there, do not believe him. For there shall arise false christs and false prophets, and shall show great signs and wonders, insomuch as to deceive (if possible) even the elect. Behold I have told it to you beforehand. If therefore they shall say to you: Behold he is in the desert; go ye not out: Behold he is in the closets; believe it not. For as lightning cometh out of the east, and, appeareth even unto the west, so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be. Wheresoever the body shall be, there shall the eagles also be gathered together. And immediately after the tribulation of those days, the sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be moved. And then shall appear the sign of the Son of Man in heaven: and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn: and they shall see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven with great power and majesty. And he shall send his angels with a trumpet, and a great voice: and they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from the farthest parts of the heavens to the uttermost bounds of them. Now learn a parable from the fig-tree: when its branch is now tender, and the leaves come forth, you know that summer is nigh. So also you, when you shall see all these things, know that it is near, even at the doors. Amen, I say to you, this generation shall not pass till all these things be done. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away. ------------------- Sermon CL. Marrying Out Of The Church. {492} In our course of instructions on marriage, my dear friends, we have so far spoken chiefly of the care which should be taken in the selection of the person who is to be one's constant companion through life, and shown that not only earthly happiness, but even the salvation of the soul, may depend on this choice being made wisely. We will now go on to consider the ceremony of marriage itself. Some people, though they have always been Catholics and lived among Catholics, seem to be entirely ignorant of the laws and requirements of the church on this subject. They appear to think that nothing has to be done but to call on the priest some fine evening, and that he will marry them then and there. And if it is not convenient to go to the priest, or if he makes any difficulty about it, why, then a Protestant minister or his honor the mayor will do at a pinch. Now there are several points which these people need instruction about, and several mistakes which they make in this very important affair. We shall have to consider them separately. And we will begin with the greatest mistake of all which can be fallen into by Catholics who wish to get married, and that is to go to a Protestant minister for the purpose. What is, then, the harm exactly of going to a Protestant minister to get married? Is it that a Protestant minister is an immoral or vicious character, with whom we should have nothing to do? By no means. He is, indeed, more likely to be to blame for his errors in religion than his people, for he has, from his greater knowledge in religious matters, a better chance to know the truth; but even a minister may be in good faith about his doctrine. And in other respects he may be a worthy and estimable gentleman. {493} But the reason why Catholics should avoid going to him for marriage is that marriage is one of the seven sacraments which our Lord has entrusted to the keeping of his church. These sacraments, then, belong to the church, and we cannot recognize the right of those who separate from her to administer them or to assist officially at them, though they may have the power to do so validly. Therefore, though marriage be real and valid when contracted before a Protestant minister, and though his own people, of course, are not to blame, if in good faith, for availing themselves of his services, we cannot do so. In deed, this would be the case even if marriage were not a sacrament, but merely a religious rite or ceremony; we cannot allow the ministers of any sect separated from the church to act as such for us in any religious function; to do so would be to allow their claim to act in the name of Christ. This we can never do, and, above all, where the sacraments are concerned. Another, and a very weighty reason, why Catholics cannot go before a minister for marriage, is that no one but the Catholic clergy can be supposed to be sufficiently acquainted with the laws of God and of the church regarding Christian marriage. There are impediments, as they are called, which make marriage invalid unless a dispensation is obtained from the proper source. Some of these are commonly known, such as those which proceed from a near relationship of the parties; but there are others which are not known even by name to the great mass of the faithful, and which a Protestant minister, even should he happen to know them, would never for a moment regard. {494} Catholics, therefore, if they go to a minister to get married, run a great risk of not being really married at all, owing to these impediments not being detected or attended to. By the law of the State their marriage may be a good and real one, but in the sight of God it will not be so, if any such impediment should exist, and not have been removed by dispensation; and this holds, even though no suspicion of such an impediment should have arisen. You see, then, how important it is in this matter to consult those who are competent to advise them. ------------------- Sermon CLI. Joy In God's Service. _Let the peace of Christ rejoice in your hearts, ... and be, ye, thankful._ --Colossians iii. 15. Of the several great lessons contained in to-day's Epistle, the one most insisted on and brought out is that of thankfulness and joyfulness in the service of God. In the labors of St. Paul (and his labors were more abundant than all the Apostles), in his frequent tribulations and crosses, he never ceased giving thanks in all things--nor did he ever tire of inculcating this same duty on the first Christians. If, then, my brethren, thankfulness and joyfulness are such a great part of religion, it would be well this morning to see if they be characteristic of our service. We have a multitude of reasons for being thankful to God, if we but thought of them--the gifts of nature--life, health, strength, the pleasures and gratifications of the mind, learning, objects of interest, of study and beauty, both in nature and art, the pleasures of home, the joys of friendship. {495} These are real and great benefits; they are causes of joy and motives of thankfulness. Our good God intended us to find enjoyment in the moderate use of them, not, indeed, as ends in themselves, but as means to our one great end. And so he has spread the charm of beauty over this place of our sojourn and made it pleasant and interesting, lest we lose heart and become sad, and languish on our journey to heaven. But to speak of higher gifts and benefits: What motives of joy and thankfulness ought we not to find in the knowledge of God, his truth, mercy, and goodness as made known to us in the Scripture and in his Divine Son, our Saviour and friend, the God-Man; in the gift of the faith, the spiritual riches of the church and the sacraments, his mercies to us personally--blessings on our labors, the removal of dangers from our paths, his gracious forgiveness of our sins, time and again. Then, too, what we expect and through his mercy count on for the future--the joys of heaven, those delights which pass our understanding. The life of heaven will be pure joy, and its one occupation thankfulness. Surely, then, this life should be a figure and foretaste of it; and so St. Paul thought, for he bids us "be thankful," "rejoice and rejoice always"; singing in grace in our hearts, and in every word and work giving thanks to God. {496} It is plain that, since God has done his part in bestowing the benefits in such abundant measure, we should do ours in returning thanks, for gratitude is the correlative of benefit. It is equally plain that the true religion is joyful. Now, is such our religion? Is this the way we act? Is it the way we consider God's service? We see, I think, more anxious and sad faces than thankful and glad ones; and I fear that the joyfulness of the latter does not come generally from the reasons I have given. It comes too often from worldly causes, from success in temporal things, from hopes and prospects which relate to indifferent things, if they are not dangerous and positively bad. Whereas the common idea of religion is that it is an unpleasant, sad, up-hill sort of a thing, which imposes restraints upon us, and, far from being a cause of thankfulness and joy, is a great interference with the pleasure of life. Pious people, too, are regarded as dull, simple, spiritless creatures, quite the opposite of joyful. This is all wrong, all false, and, if it be our religion, then we _have not_ the true religion, at least practically. For as God's benefits are real and great, so our thanks and joy should be in them and correspond to them. Religion, being our highest duty, should be and can be our highest pleasure. God says it is, and he is truth; those who have tried say the same. "What shall I render to God for all he hath rendered to me?"--"better one day in thy courts than a thousand years in the tents of sinners"--"taste and see how sweet the Lord is." Our consciences and experience bear out the same truth; for surely evil cannot be compared to good in fulness, in intensity; and, above all, it will not wear, it will not last, and it leaves us dissatisfied, fearful, sad. The pleasure and joy of a good life to a good man even here are far greater than the pleasure of sin to a sinner. {497} Let us, then, make up our minds, once for all, that not only is religion the most necessary, but the wisest and the happiest thing for us. Let us serve God with thankfulness, both for what he has done and will do for us, if we are faithful. If he has done so much in this state of probation, exile, and punishment, what will he not do when the time of reward and enjoyment arrives. Surely, considering what we are and what we have done, the pains and crosses bear no proportion to the benefits, and we have cause even in present labors to be thankful and in every word and work to give him praise through Jesus Christ our Lord. ------------------- Sermon CLII. Forgive And Be Forgiven. "_Bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if any have a complaint against another. Even as the Lord hath forgiven you, so you also._" --Colossians iii. 13. This, my dear brethren, is the law of Christ. It is a law we are bound to keep. We cannot save our souls unless we do keep it. There is no possible way to escape its requirements, for our Lord himself declares positively: "But if you will _not_ forgive men, _neither_ will your Father forgive _you your offences_" (Matthew vi. 15). Therefore, there is no way to save our souls, no way to be true Christians in life, unless we forgive all and every one, without exception, every injury they have done us. {498} But one may say: I do forgive all who have injured me if they repent, say they are sorry, and ask pardon! My dear brethren, this won't do. You must forgive whether they repent or not. Nothing less will satisfy the Lord. The best reason is that since the Lord has forgiven us, so we also are bound to forgive all. A true lover of the Lord doesn't want a better reason. A greater or a better cannot be given. Our Lord himself has set the example. He has taken our sins upon himself, and caused the Eternal Father to forgive us our sins for his sake beforehand, before we have even repented or shown by a single sign that we want to belong to God and to hate sin. Do we not receive in our baptism, as infants, the grace that destroys original sin? Original sin placed us under the power of the devil, and made us unworthy to be called the sons of God, but our Christian baptism made us again the sons of God. Does not God forgive us also our mortal sins, giving us time to repent, and even waiting patiently for our repentance? Remember, these sins after baptism are all the greater because after being made innocent we again become guilty. But some try to excuse themselves and say: It is hard to have to do this; I can't do it. The sin against me is too great; it ought not to be forgiven. This is not true. There is nothing we can't forgive, nothing we are permitted to leave unforgiven. We can forgive any sin against us if we will. If it is hard, pray and it will become easy. Sincere prayer for him who is our enemy is sure to remove very soon all feeling against him. This is certain: that it will, _without fail_, prevent the malice and revenge in our hearts from overcoming us and causing us to sin grievously against charity. Remember that everything we do well for our Lord is hard at first, but is made easy by prayer and faithful, persevering effort. {499} Again, some object: I try to pray but cannot, because when I pray I think of my wrongs and begin to hate my enemy, so that my prayer is insincere or stops on my lips! Then pray for all poor sinners, and don't mean to leave your enemy out of your prayers. This is a good beginning, and keeps you from mortal sin, for pray we must _for our enemies_. This is a fundamental law of the Christian life. If we intentionally leave out one single soul when we pray for all poor sinners, we sin in the very presence of God, and our prayers are rejected; nor shall they be accepted until we include that soul also. Let us remember, my dear brethren, that we are called by our Lord to show to the world that being the friends of God means that he puts into our souls his loving, merciful, long-suffering Spirit, and thus makes us like to himself. Does any one want to be God-like? Then let him forgive from his heart every injury and all who injure him. To gain courage to forgive, let us see what forgiveness does. It saves God's honor. It prevents his being insulted. For example: when one insults us, he sins against God and insults him also. If we answer back, we also insult God, and make two sins instead of one. Next, our angry answer makes our enemy reply again; for another sin are we responsible. So it goes on until a number of sins are committed by each one. Silence on our part would have prevented these insults to God and left our souls unstained. We were not silent. The consequence is we not only increased another's sin, but we added our own and lost the friendship of God. {500} Had a forgiving spirit been in each soul this could not have happened. Had it been in one of them, one soul at least would have been kept from sin. Cultivate, then, a forgiving spirit, and "even as the Lord hath forgiven you, so you also" forgive all. ------------------- 
49618	----	Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. Minor typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed. [Illustration: cover] [Illustration: titlepage] Faith and Duty Sermons on Free Texts With Reference to the Church-Year By the REV. LOUIS BUCHHEIMER Pastor of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Our Redeemer, St. Louis, Mo. [Illustration: logo] ST. LOUIS, MO. CONCORDIA PUBLISHING HOUSE 1913 CONTENTS. PAGE First Sunday in Advent. Gen. 7, 1 1 Second Sunday in Advent. Rev. 20, 11. 12. 15 7 Third Sunday in Advent. 2 Cor. 8, 23 14 Fourth Sunday in Advent. Luke 1, 78 20 Christmas. 2 Cor. 9, 15 25 Last Sunday in the Year. Isaiah 64, 6 31 New Year's Day. Matt. 6, 9 37 Epiphany Sunday. John 8, 12 43 First Sunday after Epiphany. Eccl. 12, 1 48 Second Sunday after Epiphany. Hebr. 14, 4 54 Third Sunday after Epiphany. John 4, 14. 15 60 Fourth Sunday after Epiphany. Matt. 14, 22-27 67 Fifth Sunday after Epiphany. Matt. 13, 47. 48 73 Septuagesima Sunday. Matt. 20, 15 79 Sexagesima Sunday. John 5, 39 85 Quinquagesima Sunday. Rom. 3, 23 90 First Sunday in Lent. Exodus 17, 8-13 96 Second Sunday in Lent. 2 Tim. 4, 10 102 Third Sunday in Lent. Luke 7, 39 108 Fourth Sunday in Lent. Matt. 18, 7 114 Fifth Sunday in Lent. Exodus 12, 13 119 Palm Sunday. Gen. 35, 1-3 124 Easter. John 5, 28. 29 129 First Sunday after Easter. John 21, 4 134 Second Sunday after Easter. John 21, 15-17 140 Third Sunday after Easter. Matt. 5, 15. 16 145 Fourth Sunday after Easter. Col. 3, 16 150 Fifth Sunday after Easter. Eph. 6, 18 156 Ascension. Mark 16, 19 161 Sunday after Ascension. Luke 9, 26 166 Pentecost. Zech. 4, 6 171 Trinity Sunday. 2 Cor. 13, 14 176 First Sunday after Trinity. Matt. 25, 46 181 Second Sunday after Trinity. Acts 24, 25 186 Third Sunday after Trinity. Matt. 9, 9-13 192 Fourth Sunday after Trinity. Matt. 16, 19 197 Fifth Sunday after Trinity. Acts 9, 17. 18 202 Sixth Sunday after Trinity. 2 Tim. 3, 5 208 Seventh Sunday after Trinity. Luke 12, 6 213 Eighth Sunday after Trinity. 1 Tim. 6, 20 218 Ninth Sunday after Trinity. Luke 12, 16-21 225 Tenth Sunday after Trinity. 1 Cor. 12, 12 and 26 230 Eleventh Sunday after Trinity. Rom. 3, 28 236 Twelfth Sunday after Trinity. Prov. 22, 6 241 Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity. Matt. 25, 40 246 Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity. 2 Pet. 1, 5-7 252 Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. 1 Pet. 5, 7 258 Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity. 2 Kings 20, 1-6 263 Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity. 1 Cor. 3, 11-15 269 Eighteenth Sunday after Trinity. 1 Kings 18, 21 274 Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity. John 5, 1-9 280 Twentieth Sunday after Trinity. Luke 12, 54-56 286 Twenty-first Sunday after Trinity. Luke 14, 28-30 292 Twenty-second Sunday after Trinity. Gal. 6, 1 297 Twenty-third Sunday after Trinity. Mark 12, 41-44 303 Humiliation and Prayer Sunday. Dan. 5, 27 309 Reformation. Ps. 87, 1-3 314 FIRST SUNDAY IN ADVENT. Come thou and all thy house into the ark.--_Gen. 7, 1._ The Bible, from beginning to end, is a series of object lessons. God sets before us certain persons, things, events, and bids us look at and learn from them, just as the teacher at school draws a diagram on the blackboard, and tells the children to look at and learn from it. No word, or single incident, recorded in the Bible, is wasted or useless; what may, at first glance, sometimes appear trifling and unimportant to us, may, on closer examination, mean very much, like the decimal point in arithmetic or the accent on a word. So it is with the words of the text just quoted. They may seem insignificant, yet are they most important. The present season, beginning with this Sunday, is called Advent. We are accustomed, in the four weeks before Christmas, to direct our minds to Christ's advent or coming. This advent, we say, is threefold: First, there is Christ's coming in the flesh, when as a little babe He lay in the manger at Bethlehem, taking upon Himself the form of Abraham, made in the likeness of human flesh, and performing the pilgrimage of an earthly life that He might thus save man. Again, we distinguish His second coming, _i. e._, His return, as we confess in the Creed, "to judge the quick and the dead," when, arrayed in all the power and majesty of Almightiness, He shall come to execute vengeance upon the evildoers, vindicate and take home with Himself those who believed in Him. And between these two comings lies a third, which we are wont to designate "His spiritual coming," by which we mean His coming and knocking at the door of our hearts for admission. This coming is not visible, however, as the other two, but invisible, yet none the less real on that account, and it is carried on by means of His Word and sacraments, through the instrumentality of the preaching of the Gospel and the administration of Holy Baptism and the Lord's Supper, for the execution of which He has founded a divine institution called the Church. To that Church He has entrusted the work of Gospel preaching and sacramental giving. She, if true to her calling and message, is the conservatory of His truth, the disseminator of His kingdom upon earth. It is within her pales that He dispenses salvation. Outside of the Church He does not promise to bestow forgiveness of sin and the blessings of His grace. How these preliminary remarks bear upon the selection and consideration of our text, what precious and instructive lessons we may gather from the comparison, that let us see, and may we be wise and heed. "Come thou and all thy house into the ark," reads the command of God. We immediately perceive with what account of ancient history that connects. The people of the Old World, the antediluvians, as they are generally called, had become so corrupt in morals and life that God determined their destruction and said: "The end of all flesh is come before me, for the earth is filled with violence," yet, to show His desire to save them, He appointed His servant Noah to preach righteousness to them, and directed him to build an ark as an evidence that He was minded to carry out His purpose, and as a means of safety for Noah. Few, however, none, in fact, except Noah and his immediate family, eight souls in all, took the warning to heart. Many a one of that perverse generation, we may surmise, even assisted in the construction of the ark, and the patriarchal minister would exhort them to forsake their sins and worship God, only to be sneered at for his credulity and ridiculed for his nonsensical eccentricity of building such a boathouse. But the hundred and twenty years given for probation expired, and Noah receives directions to embark. "Come thou," is the command, "into the ark." Just one week is allowed to bring into the ark all his family, and the birds and beasts to be preserved, and then--what an unusual sound it must have been--the door was shut, not by Noah's, or any human hand, but by the hand of Jehovah; for it is written: "And the Lord shut him in," and now, amid the war of heaven's artillery and the shaking of the earth, the fountains of the deep burst open, and the windows of the skies break loose, and the greatest and most terrible calamity Revelation records is on. Imagination cannot portray the scenes that must have then been enacted,--how, forgetful of everything but self-preservation, they fled towards the singular building, which but a little before they had insolently defied; how, perhaps laboring in their distraction to scramble up its huge sides, the angry tide of waters keeps them down, and with a cry of despair they dash into the watery abyss; how some, climbing up to the loftiest pinnacle and summit of the mountains, in the hope that perhaps at the end the door may be opened to receive a few more, they see the wondrous ship dashing along, gallant and safe, and hear that gurgling sound, the death requiem of their race, rising higher and higher. Oh! who can describe the anguish, the woe, the cursing of self. But it was now too late, and yet, whose fault was it? Provision had been made, probation time had been granted them; there was none to blame but themselves. God's warnings are not empty sounds, His institutions not for ridicule and rejection. And now, more generally, for the application. We, too, have an ark, a New Testament Ark. God, Himself, as the divine architect and artificer, has built it; He devised the plans, He selected the material, and employs the Noahs in its construction; daily do we see before our eyes its towers and walls, hear regularly and pleadingly the bells sending out the invitation: "Come thou into the ark." You know what this ark is,--it's the Holy Christian Church, that divine structure which by Him has been finished these 1900 years. There, in the midst of a world of sin and depravity, upon which God has pronounced His righteous judgments as clearly as upon the race of antediluvians, it stands,--the great, the capacious Gospel Ark, a refuge of safety; come whatever Jehovah may commission upon our guilty world, it is certain to ride safely above the tumultuous tempest and bring us gallantly to the celestial mountain, the Ararat of Heaven. My dear hearer, have you entered into that ark? Is your name enrolled among the list of passengers? And why not? Make known the reason of your backwardness. In other words, without figure, lay before you the question: Why are you not a church-member? Why do you stand aloof from the church? Why do you not join? I shall listen to a few of your reasons, and then tell you why you ought to join. Perhaps you are laboring under the fear that there is not room enough for you in the ark, that you are not invited among them to whom the gracious offer is tendered. Banish that thought instantly from your mind. "Not room enough in the ark!" "Not wanted!" "Come thou and thy house into the ark." You know the beautiful parable of the Great Supper, to which all and sundry were invited, and after everything had been precisely done as the master had commanded, the servant comes and tells the master of the house: "Yet there is room." A striking truth! Those words reveal that the Christian Ark is not yet fully tenanted, that, as the invitation is still out, you are yet in time. "Not _room_--not _wanted_!" God forbid that such a thought should in your breasts be found. "Come unto me," declared your Savior, "come thou into the ark." But you say: "I do belong to the church, the so-called 'Big Church,' _i. e._, to the number of those who still profess to be Christians, who uphold Christian principles and live good moral lives, who aim at what is right, and I am just as good and honest as any in the church." Perhaps so, my dear friend, perhaps more so, for not all that profess to be church-members are such; some are slimy and wily hypocrites. But _you_, as an honorable and professing Christian, ought to be a church-member, for you know that Christ does not acknowledge the "Big Church" of which you are speaking. You cannot put asunder what Christ has joined together. He has joined these two things together, Himself and the Church; outside of His ark He promises no salvation, and you have no right to expect it. For what is the Church? It is Christ's provision for the salvation of man,--how? By the preaching of His holy Word and the administration of His sacraments, as we heard. Is the Word of God preached in the "Big Church"? Is Baptism administered, the Lord's Communion received? How can faith in the Savior then be wrought, maintained, forgiveness of sins secured, hope and salvation? "Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God," says the Bible. "If ye continue in my Word, then are ye my disciples, indeed," says the Savior. "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved." "Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, ye have no life in you." I doubt not that many of the antediluvians did not despise the ark outright. Who knows but what they might have thought there was something to it,--when the great calamity comes we shall be all right,--and that they told the preacher of righteousness: "Never mind about us, Noah, our record is still good." But salvation was in the ark, and there it is to-day; you cannot separate Christ from His Church, Christliness from Churchliness, for the Church is Christ's, and Christ is in His Church; and I know not, from the study of God's Word, the Bible, what right any man has to stand aloof from the Christian Church and call himself a Christian. The "Big Church" is a big delusion. "Yes, I recognize that I ought to belong to the Church, but I do not like to bind myself," pleads another. Bind yourself? To what? To a life of godliness, to a conduct becoming a Christian, to the duties incumbent upon a member? Why, if you are a Christian at all, you are bound by these things already. The further few hours occasionally given to the deliberation of congregational affairs ought not to deter you. You are bound already, why speak about binding yourself? And you certainly do not want to be unbound,--for in the ark alone is your safety. There are yet other reasons why some do not join the Church. In our materialistic age, there are hundreds whom the love of money keeps out of the house of God. It costs something, and they shun costs, no matter for what purpose--ever so noble. They hold connections which the Church cannot sanction, belong to organizations against which it finds itself compelled to testify, and because people cannot bear to have their connections reproved, and do not stop to weigh and consider what the Church has to say, they immediately, without any further ado, break off all relation with the Church, and raise the cry against it of being too strict, and stay away from the preaching and the sacraments, none of which have been denied them, and to which they are warmly invited and heartily welcomed. They will once have to answer for it. The invitation remains: "Come thou and all thy house into the ark."-- And now, having listened to why some people do not belong to the Church, let us regard a few reasons why each and every Christian ought to be a church-member. First, there is the positive command of God. The Lord said unto Noah--commanded, directed him: "Come thou and all thy house into the ark." His directions to us and ours are not less specific. His Third Commandment reads: "Thou shalt sanctify the holyday." Where does the sanctification of that day take place but in His Church, in the observance of its institutions? He warns: "Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is." Again, take all such clear passages in which He commands us to profess piety as this: "I say unto you, Whosoever shall confess me before men, him will I also confess before my Father which is in heaven," which, if it means anything, certainly means that we must either be publicly and openly rated among His confessors, or He will not consent to acknowledge us among His saints. How can a man be a proper child of God who will not so much as give His name as a believer? What guarantee has he to count securely on salvation if he refuses to say before men whether he takes Christ as his Redeemer, or not? It is true: "With the heart man believeth unto righteousness," but it is equally true: "With the mouth confession is made unto salvation." Church-membership is not optional; it is imperative, it is based upon God's command. Another reason for church-membership is, that a Christian must advance his Master's cause. If you are at liberty to decline connection with Christ's Church, then I am; if one is, all are, and how, then, can there be the maintenance of the ministry, the furtherance of the manifest kingdom of God? We pray daily: "Hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." When is God's name hallowed? When does His kingdom come? And by what influences and agencies is His will done on earth but by this organization established by Himself for that purpose,--His holy Church? Who keeps up the work of the ministry with its schools of education, who maintains the propagation of the faith by the support of missions, and all those other efforts essential to the preservation and spreading of Christ's kingdom, and you, as a disciple of Christ, should be found standing aloof from it, not helping along yourself, yea, by your passive indifference and non-cooperation setting a bad example unto others? Your duty in this respect is as plain as Noah's,--you should get into the ark. And, reason last. It promotes your own good. Aside from what we have already emphasized, there is something in the simple matter of being known and feeling committed as a member of a Church which strengthens and helps a man. It restrains where otherwise there would be no restraint. It induces to arouse a livelier sense of religious obligations, stimulates to stricter fidelity in the observance of things which otherwise are easily neglected, secures the watch and oversight of experienced Christians, and, withal, gives a force and quickening which comes from conviction that one is rated as a disciple of Christ and looked to for example in faith, in word, and in deeds. It brings spiritual things and Christian duty closer home. If conscientiously attended to, it is a blessing to you, and it makes you a blessing to others. Let this suffice on this subject at this time. Let those who have held and are holding membership draw a rule from what has been said for the regulation of their conduct. So divine and essential a cause enlists their endeavors. Let them make it their business to honor it, to widen and extend its influences by being punctual at the services, by being particular in the observance of its sacraments, by being uncompromising in the belief and defense of its faith, by being active in encouraging all efforts necessary to its life and success. And those who have hitherto stood aloof from the Church, or who are mere lingerers about its gates, let them also learn from this the unsatisfactoriness of their position, and be admonished of the duty and necessity that is upon them if they would find God and salvation. "Come thou and thy family into the ark,"--what time could be more opportune than this first day of another year of God's grace? Consider the matter, and may it lead you to lay your vow upon God's altar and have your name recorded on the roster of the Church. Amen. SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. And I saw a great white throne, and Him that sat on it. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened; and another book was opened which is the book of life; and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works; and whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire.--_Rev. 20, 11. 12. 15._ We are all acquainted, my beloved, with the verdict that was once pronounced upon King Belshazzar of Babylon,--how, seated one night at a royal banquet, with his princes, his wives and concubines, eating, drinking, and making merry, there suddenly appeared upon the wall of his palace the ghostly fingers of a man's hand tracing in clear and distinct letters the words: "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin." When the king saw the mysterious script and surmised its probable meaning, his countenance was changed, the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote one against another. The wisest man in his realm was sent for, one Daniel, the Lord's prophet, interprets the words and tells him: "Mene: God has numbered thy kingdom and finished it. Tekel: Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting. Upharsin: Thy kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians." Nor was it the space of two hours before the verdict met its fulfillment. Darius, the king of the Medes, by a subterranean passage, dug under the city's walls, broke into the city. Belshazzar was slain that night, and his mighty empire shattered like chaff before the wind. "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin," that is the handwriting which one might appropriately inscribe over the portals of this day. Loving and warning as was the picture which we contemplated on the last Lord's Day, where we observed our Savior riding in royal state, in the City of David, and heard the prophet's prediction: "Tell ye the daughter of Sion, Behold, thy King cometh unto thee, meek and sitting upon a colt," just as tremendous and awfully solemn is the account in to-day's Gospel, which presents to us that selfsame King transformed into a judge, His meekness into righteous display, His offers of salvation into sentences of sharpness, justice, and retribution, parceling out to every one, as He did unto Belshazzar at Babylon, the just verdict of his deed. It is Christ's "Second Advent," His coming to judge the quick and the dead, that forms the topic of our present contemplation, and taking up the account read from Revelations, step by step, may God's Holy Spirit make our consideration of it a blessing to your souls. Four things enlist our devotion: _I. The Judge_; _II. the judged_; _III. the books_; _IV. the results_. The first thing that arrested the Apostle's eye was the throne. "And I saw a great white throne," he tells us. Thrones are the seats of kings and sovereigns, and they are always associated with the idea of regal splendor and magnificence. Just so the meaning is, that when the blessed and only Potentate, the King of kings and Lord of lords, appears in the clouds of heaven, He will be surrounded with the manifestations of grandeur, majesty, and dominion, as the Gospel indicates when it says: "Then shall ye see the Son of Man coming in great glory," and things are particularly specified, too, regarding this throne. It is a "great throne," like the one which Isaiah, the prophet, saw in one of his visions "high and lifted up," so that the millions and myriads of earth can easily discern it as the spot where they shall hear their eternal destiny read out. And it was also a "white" throne. White, in the language of the Bible and of all nations, is the mark of purity and holiness, and when, accordingly, the throne is designated as being "white," it means that white decisions will be rendered there, stainless judgment, unspotted by the least prejudice, crookedness, partiality, or mistakes; none will think of questioning their equity, or dream of appealing to any higher court. Their verdict will be final and fair. The next object that attracted the Apostle's eye was the Judge Himself: "And I saw Him that sat on it." No further description of the personal appearance of the Judge is given. John simply says: "I saw Him," whence it follows that He can be seen, and, accordingly, it could not have been the absolute, invisible God, who cannot be seen. Who, then, was it? It was none other than Jesus Christ, of whom we confess in the Second Article that He was born of the Virgin Mary, was crucified, dead and buried, and the third day rose again, and, ascending into heaven, shall come again to judge the quick and the dead. This is the plain teaching of Scripture throughout. Christ Jesus, the Son of Man, wearing the very nature of those whom He judges, will be the Judge. "God hath appointed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom He hath ordained." But not any longer as the gentle, compassionate Savior, as the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world, but as the Lion of the tribe of Judah, as the Judge from whose face the earth and the heavens will flee away, and the unrighteous call out in despair: "Ye mountains, fall upon us, and ye hills, hide us from Him that sitteth on the throne." And think not, we would here add, that we are describing matters of imagination, such as poets and painters may dwell upon. We are describing things that will really happen. John saw these things in vision. You and I shall one day see these things in reality. "Behold, He cometh with clouds, and every eye shall see Him." Where shall be _our_ place, what _our_ portion at that time, in that day? This we learn from the next point of consideration: Who shall be the judged? "And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God." By the "dead" here are meant _all mankind_, the entire family of earth, all of woman born, from Adam down to the last offspring of human race,--they must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ. It is computed that there are more than eighty millions of inhabitants in our land. This is about one-twentieth part of the entire population of the globe, which, at this time, is calculated at one billion five hundred millions. These one billion five hundred millions will be all gathered together into one thronging assemblage, and not they only, but also, in addition, the two hundred generations of men who have preceded us, and those generations--how many we know not, God knoweth--that will still live in the earth between these days and the last general judgment. These all, which no man can number, shall be judged. It says: "The great and small." There will be no distinction of age, size, color, or nation, condition or rank, those of high degree and those of low estate, the rich and the poor, the sovereign and his subjects, the man of silvery hair and the infant of a span long, the distinguished scholar and the untutored savage, husband and wife, pastor and people, apostles and sinners,--all shall stand before God. All the dead, whose bodies were once consigned by loving hands to quiet resting-chambers beneath mother earth, those whose bones lie bleached upon the desert's sands or Alpine mountains, those whose corpse was lowered down into watery depths,--immaterial how, when, or where dead,--these all shall yield up their tents when the trumpet of the archangel sounds to gather the children of men unto judgment. And with the parties thus arrayed at the bar, we proceed to the judgment itself. "And the books were opened, and another book was opened which is the book of life. And the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books." Two sets of books are here spoken of: first, two books, and then another book. Other passages in God's Word also speak of books in connection with the Judgment. What the character of these books spoken of is we are not at a loss to determine; the one is the book of God's remembrance, and the other is the book of God's Word. Not as if God in reality employs books to make His entries; the all-knowing King needs no such helps to remind Him of men's actions. His all-capacious mind knows all things and forgets nothing. The idea is: Just as men, in their manifold dealings, do not trust to their memories, but use memoranda and records in order to be able to refer to them as occasion requires, just so, in condescension to our way of thinking, figuratively speaking, God represents Himself as keeping a book in which He has an exact record of what has been done by any creature, past, present, and future. And an exact record it will be, accurate in the minutest detail. Not only man's general character, the sum total of his life, whether (taken altogether) he was, on the whole, a worldly or a pious man, or the like, will be taken into account, but every trifling act, good or bad, of which his entire life was composed. The word is: "God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil." Everything. Nothing shall be kept back, nothing will be overlooked. That thought that passed so rapidly through your mind as hardly to be noticed, that word that so hastily escaped your lips, all the deliberate and determined actions which have left their stain upon your life, all these, down to the secret sin that you have been so successful in hiding from the sight of man, all, whether done in childhood, youth, manhood, or old age, all that has been committed or omitted, will be opened out to public view by the all-seeing, all-remembering Judge. This is the first book, the Book of Remembrance. And the divine Arbiter opens another book. We have no difficulty in recognizing it at once. It is to us a familiar volume,--"The word that I have spoken, the same shall judge you in the last day," is the language of the Judge Himself. That book, we contend, is the guide and rule of our faith and actions in this life; it is also the statute-book of heaven, the touchstone by which our hearts and lives are to be tried in the life hereafter. Plain enough are the directions that book tells you. "Thou shalt love the Lord, thy God, with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself." Plainly does it speak to you and to all of heaven, of judgment, of eternity, of faith, of holiness, and of the new birth and conversion; plainly does it inform you of Him who redeemed us from the curse of the Law, being made a curse for us, that he that believeth in the Son hath eternal life, and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him. In brief, according to that opened Bible man shall be justified or condemned. Here is the standard, the rule. How important, my beloved, that we should see on what terms we stand with our Bibles now--whether they justify us, or whether they condemn us. Oh, for that oft-neglected divine Book! But there is a third book to be opened. That is the book of life, and "whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire." It was a custom generally observed at the courts of princes to keep a list of the persons employed in their service, of the officers of their armies, and sometimes even the names of the soldiers; and when it is said in the Bible that a person's name is written in the book of life, it means that he particularly belongs to God, is enrolled among His friends and followers. It is also probable that the early Christian churches, like our churches now, kept lists of their members, and that this term "book of life" was derived from such a custom, it being regarded that any one on the list was also an assured member of heaven. And how may I know whether my name is inscribed in this book of life? "He that believeth in the Son hath eternal life," and "he that believeth not in the Son, shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him." What determines our eternal destiny, our acceptance or rejection by the Judge, is our personal belief and faith in Jesus Christ; on that depends our salvation, our being enrolled or canceled from the book of life. "Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness, my jewels are, my glorious dress; in these before my God I'll stand when summoned to His own right hand." Nothing else will avail but faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, our Redeemer. That places our name in the book of life; with that men will stand or fall. "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned." But does not the Record here, verse 12, and the Bible _elsewhere_, emphasize that we will be judged according to our works, according to what we have done? Indeed, but this does not contradict salvation by faith in Christ Jesus; our faith, to prove itself genuine, must work and does work. If there are no works, we may rest assured there is no faith. At the last day our works will be inquired into to ascertain the nature of our faith. If there is no love toward the brethren of Jesus, no manifestation of Christ's Spirit toward Christ's suffering members, we may take it for granted that faith is dead. Our works come into account as fruits of our faith; but faith in Christ Jesus is the principle on which all stand or fall, for--what will the outcome of that final judgment be? "And they shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal." The Bible everywhere speaks, in connection with the Day of Judgment, of mankind being separated into two distinct portions. Now the wheat and tares grow together. There is a difference between them, even at the present, which the skilled eye in many instances can detect, but, as yet, they run together, and there is no severance of them into separate fields or pastures. It will not always be so. Infidels and Christians will one day cease to live under the same roof, or believers and unbelievers to be unequally yoked together, or the children of the devil and the children of God to be intermingled in the same families, firms, and societies. When men come to appear before their Judge, the record is: "He shall separate them one from another, and shall set the good as sheep on His right hand, but the goats on the left." In ancient times the left and right hand of a judge meant much. To be placed on the right hand signified acceptance, acquittal; on the left hand, condemnation, rejection. And He shall say to them on His right hand: "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." And, addressing Himself to the other, there break from the lips of the Judge the dark, desolating words: "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." One shudders to speak them, but here are the words from the lips of the almighty Judge Himself. Who can alter them? On the one side is an inheritance, a realm of divine blessedness, a kingdom which knows no evil, a life which knows no death. On the other side gapes a lake of unquenchable fire, never, indeed, meant or made for men. Punishments are there, and tears that ever fall, and flames that ever burn, and miseries that never exhaust. Exactly what it is I cannot tell, and wish that none may ascertain. I can only rehearse the expressions of God's Word upon the subject,--"blackness of darkness, worm that dieth not, weeping and gnashing of teeth"; and no representation is more awful than the one employed in the text, "a lake of fire," seething, sweltering, weltering fire, that shall never be quenched, everlasting burning. And why, brethren, bring before you these solemn truths? Is it to torment you before the time? No, indeed, but as He Himself in to-day's Gospel declares, "that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of Man," that you be sincere believers and worshipers here on earth, diligent in good works, and on that day be rated among those who shall inherit their Father's kingdom, and to that end: King of Majesty, tremendous, Who dost free salvation send us, Fount of pity, then befriend us, With the favored sheep, O place us! Nor amid the goats abase us, To Thine own right hand upraise us! Amen. THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT. They are the messengers of the churches.--_2 Cor. 8, 23._ St. Paul the Apostle was laboring in Macedonia. He had there learned that through the famine which then prevailed the pious converts in Judea were in pecuniary straits. He had applied for aid in their behalf to the brethren in Macedonia, and they, considering their poverty, had responded in the most liberal manner to his appeal. He informs the church of Corinth of this large benevolence, and states his conviction that the Corinthian believers, who were so much richer than those of Macedonia, would not allow themselves to be outdone in the extent of their bounty. Not satisfied with having informed them by letter, he also sends to them Titus and other Christian ministers to explain to them fully the wants of their suffering brethren and to raise the necessary supplies. Now, it appeared requisite for the information of those who were not sufficiently acquainted with the men sent that they should carry with them some introduction, some credentials. St. Paul, therefore, accredits them in the words of the text: "Whether any do inquire of Titus or of our brethren, they are the messengers of the churches and the glory of Christ." It is not my intention, on the present occasion, to dwell upon the circumstances to which our text most immediately refers. My object is to impress upon your minds the solemn character of the ministerial office as explained by the expression: "messengers of the churches." The epistle of this Sunday suggests this, and the fact that it is the ----th anniversary of my ministry among you lends it a personal coloring. Two chief items commend our thoughts: _I. The office of Christ's ministers_, _II. the duty of Christ's people,--what is it?_ The office of Christ's ministers,--what is it? Announces Paul in the text: "They are the messengers of the churches." We all know the office of a messenger. It is to bear a message from one person to another person. This figure is frequently made use of in the Bible to illustrate the intercourse between God and man. Thus it is employed in reference to the Lord Himself. From all eternity He had been in the bosom of the Father, and when the fullness of time was come, He appeared in the form of a man, to make known, to declare, the message of the Father. That message was the unfolding of the everlasting covenant whereby God might be just and yet pardon and save the sinner. Hence, the Prophet Malachi predicts Christ's coming under this very name of Messenger: "The Lord whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to His temple, even the Messenger of the Covenant, whom ye delight in." Our blessed Lord, accordingly, was a messenger. The angels, also, have often been employed to bring messages from God to man. They, likewise, are spoken of under this title. The Greek word which we translate "angel" means "messenger." The vision which Jacob saw at Bethel, the angels of God ascending and descending upon the ladder, aptly represents the services of those heavenly beings who are continually descending and ascending with tidings respecting the business which is being transacted between heaven and earth. Hence, the angel, or messenger, who appeared to Zacharias and told the purpose of his visit from the courts above: "I am Gabriel," said he, "that stand in the presence of God, and am sent to speak unto thee and to show thee these glad tidings." But, besides the Lord Jesus and the angels, it has pleased God in His mercy and condescension to make use of _men_ as His messengers to the human race, and so they are described in the Word of God. We read: "Thus spake Haggai, the Lord's messenger," and St. Paul, in writing to the Philippians, respecting their minister, says: "I supposed it necessary to send unto you Epaphroditus, my brother and companion in labor, but your messenger." But, alas, through the corruption of our common nature, everything human is liable to be perverted. There are many who profess to be the Lord's messengers, who are not such. It is, accordingly, intimated in the Scripture, for the warning of Lord's people, that there are two classes of messengers, the evil and the good. In the history and prophecies of the Old Testament we read of false prophets who were not sent, and yet they ran and taught the people perverse doctrines and led many away from the true service of the living God. In the days of Israel in the wilderness there were Korah, Dathan and Abiram, who, contrary to the spirit of God, taught the people to rebel against Moses and Aaron. The Prophet Jeremiah speaks of a very busy set of false prophets who did not stand in the Lord's counsel and misled His people. And in the New Testament they are not missing,--there were the Pharisees, Judas, Hymenaeus, and Alexander. St. Paul bitterly complains about some who, to gain their own selfish purposes, pretended to be apostles, but who were not. Our Lord admonishes that, at all times of the Christian dispensation, we may expect false prophets wearing the clothing of sheep. Now, how are we to distinguish between the real and pretended messengers of Christ? The Lord Himself has told us: "By their fruits ye shall know them." If, therefore, a minister does not bring forth the proper fruits, say what he will to the contrary, he is not accredited by Christ,--he is not the Lord's messenger. One chief point by which we may judge is the "fruits of the lips." What message does he deliver? Is it the Lord's message, or is it some conceit of his own? The popish priest, who preaches salvation by works, the intercession of the Virgin, the lying delusion of purgatory, delivers not the Lord's message. The Unitarian minister, who talks of the virtues of humanity, who denies the Trinity, the atonement of the Redeemer, the converting and sanctifying operations of the Holy Spirit, he, too, certainly does not deliver the Lord's message. And to come nearer to ourselves, he who professes to be a Lutheran minister, and who yet denies the doctrine of Justification by Faith only, who does not preach the regenerating power of the Holy Sacrament of Baptism, and the real presence of Christ's body and blood in the Lord's Supper, he, likewise, whatever may be his profession to the contrary, does not deliver the Lord's message. What is the Lord's message? The voice said: "Cry," and the faithful messenger said: "What shall I cry?" "All flesh is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the Word of our God shall stand forever." "The prophet that hath a dream, let him tell a dream; and he that hath _my Word_, let him speak my Word faithfully." "Preach the Word," was St. Paul's advice to Timothy. "Preach the Word"; "be instant" with that word "in season and out of season"; in the pulpit and out of the pulpit; in the schoolroom and on the platform; in the sick chamber and in the abodes of health; in the highways and in the byways. Only one-half of a minister's duty is done when the services of the sanctuary are over, and the marriages, funerals, and baptisms are performed. "The minister," one has remarked, "is a physician. He has a vast field before him. He has to study a variety of constitutions. He has to furnish himself with the knowledge of the whole system of remedies. He is to be a man of skill and expediency. If one thing fails, he must know how to apply another. He must be able to speak a word in season, to deliver the Lord's message to the saint and to the sinner, to the heavy-laden and to the presumptuous, to the contrite and to the inquirer,--to all, in short, that come." "For the priest's lips," says Malachi, "should keep knowledge, and they should seek the Law at his mouth." For this reason, he will unceasingly be on the lookout for tidings. He will not, indeed, originate new things. He will not speak anything which comes into his own head, but he will diligently study what the Word of the Lord says, and that will he, no matter who may be present in the congregation, boldly and unreservedly deliver. He will deliver the whole counsel of God. He will be zealous for the truth, and neither teach nor tolerate any manner or degree of error; but, above all, he will preach, as the most important part of his message, Christ Jesus. Other preaching may inform the head and please the ear, but it is the setting forth of Christ in all His willingness to pardon, Christ in all His mightiness to save, which alone can storm the outworks and force the citadel of the heart. It is not the flowery language and the rounded period, embellished with sparkling figures and brilliant metaphors, that will of itself win souls to the Lord. No, it is the discriminating, earnest, and affectionate preaching of Christ, whether in the polished language of the scholar or in the ruder accents of a less accomplished zeal,--it is this preaching alone which is worthy of the name. The minister of Christ has a much more important matter in hand than some imagine. As a faithful messenger, he is to deliver, not information about political issues, lectures on morals, literature, and topics of the day, but he is to give hearers a full exhibition of Christ as He is revealed in the Bible and ought to be imprinted on every human heart,--the sinner's Hope, the sinner's Refuge, the sinner's Surety and Substitute, the sinner's High Priest and Advocate, the sinner's All and in all. This, dear members and hearers, is the message. And oh, what a blessing such a message is! How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth these good tidings; that publisheth peace; that bringeth these good tidings of good; that publisheth salvation. As refreshing rain upon the dry, parched soil, so is such a faithful message to them that hear him. And this is the character which he who now addresses you is anxious to sustain, as minister of this congregation. For ---- years have I preached this message of redemption among you. Most graciously have you received it at my lips, which leads me to thank God and take courage, asking for the Spirit's influence to make that message effectual. This, then, is the duty of Christ's ministers. What, to come to the next consideration, is the duty of Christ's people? If it is the duty of Christ's ministers to declare His message, it is equally the duty of Christ's people to receive that message. Now, it is well to note that, according to God's Word, our message is twofold. It is Law, and it is Gospel. Both we are to proclaim,--the Law, which demands, threatens, and condemns in its sharpness and terror, and shows us our sin and the wrath of God; and the Gospel, which shows us our Savior and the grace of God, and offers forgiveness, life, and salvation in its sweetness and comfort. Can you bear to be thus slain by the Law? Can you bear to speak with the lesson of this Sunday--the ministry of John the Baptist, the man girt about with a leathern girdle, expressing himself in the language of bold reproof, and declaring that "even now the ax is laid unto the root of the trees," and that "every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire"? Can you bear to be told that, virtuous as many of you may be, you must seek salvation as sinners? Can you bear to be told that, if any man will be Christ's disciple, he must deny himself daily, and take up his cross, and follow his Lord wherever He may lead? Can you bear to have it forced upon you: "Be not conformed to this world"? These things belong to the message, and we would not be ministers of the Gospel of Christ without telling you them. And remember, too, that you must receive them not with your ears only, but with your hearts. Believe me, it is not enough to come hither and to attend these messages, and as you quit the sanctuary to say you are pleased with the sermons you hear. Highly as we, that are ministers, value your kind regard and affectionate esteem, we miss our object if that is all we accomplish. No, beloved, we seek not your praise, but you. We want your eye to pass on from the servant to his Master, from the messenger to Him that sent Him. Like John, we are but His voice, the voice of one that crieth amid this wilderness and waste. He that cometh is Christ. We are but the tube, or trumpet, through which He speaks. Forget thus the messenger, shut your eyes upon the preacher, and think of the Savior. Hear His voice, let that go to your heart. One more duty,--assist the messenger. Various are the means and channels in which that may be done. We have in our midst a willing band of Sunday-school teachers; what are they doing but helping to bring the message to the hearts of our youth? We have those who are not ashamed or afraid to invite others to come and hear the message spoken in public, those who encourage some to go and hear it in private, in catechetical instruction. Then, too, are our church societies laboring usefully in the Lord. Many are the means and ways in which these messengers may be assisted in the performance of their duty, and to so assist in the duty of all. My dear members, may God continue to bless, as He has visibly and bountifully blessed, these past years, His message and His messengers and those that hear it! The Lord hear and answer this our petition for our Great Redeemer's sake! Amen. FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. The Dayspring from on high hath visited us.--_Luke 1, 78._ In directing our attention to this text, we would regard, _I. by whom the words were spoken_, and _II. of whom they were spoken_. At the time of our Savior's birth the spiritual conditions in the land of Israel were distressingly sad; religious life had become very degenerate and corrupt; all manner of sects, like the Pharisees and Sadducees, with their stiff and ossified formalism, ceremonialism, materialism, had caused a dark eclipse to come over the once living faith of God's chosen people. Things were droughty and dead. But no period is ever so desperate, the Church of God never so forlorn and miserable as not to have in it some true children of faith, yea, when things are at the worst, divine Goodness is sure to interfere to bring about a change for the better; and so it was in these desolate days of Judaism. Residing in the hill country of Judea was an aged couple; they had lived long together without being blessed with offspring. This, with the Jews, was not only a defect in matrimonial happiness, but a positive reproach. The name of this pair was Zacharias and Elizabeth. Zacharias was a priest, and Elizabeth was of the daughters of Aaron, and the testimony given of their character in Holy Scripture is that they were both righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless--a devout and honorable pair. One day, so runs the story in the beginning verses of the Gospel of St. Luke, while he was engaged in his ministry, offering incense in the temple, there appeared unto Zacharias at the right-hand side of the altar an angel of God, and told him that his prayers were answered and that he would receive a son, whom he should call John. Zacharias startled at the heavenly apparition, and quite forgetful of the birth of an Isaac and Samson and Samuel, and that what happened of old might again happen, since nothing is impossible with God, he skeptically asked for a sign as the proof of the angel's message, whereupon the angel replied: "I am Gabriel, that stand in the presence of God, and am sent to speak unto thee and show thee these glad tidings. And, behold, thou shalt be dumb, and not able to speak, until the day that these things shall be performed, because thou believest not my words, which shall be fulfilled in their season." When Zacharias came out of the temple to the multitude of worshipers that had been impatiently waiting for his return, he beckoned to the people with his hand, and they perceived that he had seen a vision. Nine months had elapsed after that miraculous visitation and annunciation of the angel, when the details in the paragraph immediately preceding our text came to pass. Elizabeth, having received the fulfillment of the heavenly message, and a company of her neighbors and relatives having gathered for the circumcision of the child, a question of friendly contention arose over the name, the most of them being in favor of calling him after the name of his father, Zacharias. Zacharias, being consulted and asking for a slate whereupon to write his opinion, wrote the name John. By this writing he showed that he consented in the name of the child according to the angel's direction, and it says: "His mouth was immediately opened and his tongue loosed, and he spake and praised God in a song of blessing and joy." This song of Zacharias, which is called the "Benedictus," because it begins with the word "Benedictus" or Blessed, is one of the treasured songs of the Church. Significant--as we read that song it is that his own circumstances largely are overlooked or disregarded. Two grand and miraculous events had just happened to him, the birth of a son and the recovery of speech. These, it may be supposed, would have primarily employed his mind and called forth his praise and adoration to God; but whilst he does speak a few words of exultation over his son, a great, more transporting, and august theme fills his breast; he thinks in pious rapture of the prophecies that have gone before, the promises of God by the mouth of His inspired servants, that He would send a mighty Savior to deliver His people. Now that his own son, who was to be the forerunner of the Lord and messenger, was born, he sees the incarnation of this almighty Deliverer begun; under prophetic inspiration he proclaims what first happened six months after: "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; for He hath visited and redeemed His people," and none among us are less interested in this propitious event than Zacharias was. We have before us the same prophecies that Zacharias had; we have the same need of this Savior, and we desire the same blessings from Him which he did. Why, then, should it not be the rapture of our hearts, the topic of our triumphant song, as it was of his? With pious joy let us hail the glorious festival that shall be upon us in a few days, and in this may our reflection on our text aid us. "The Dayspring from on high hath visited us." It is interesting to note how to one whose heart is wrapped up in Christ every object becomes a preacher, a memorial. That beautiful star, last in the train of night and first in the forehead of morning, sings of Him who is the bright Morning Star. That orb in the skies, shedding the benignant rays over the earth, tells of Him who is the Sun of Righteousness with healing in His wings. The bread which I eat becomes to me a symbol of Him who is the Bread of Life; the water which I drink reminds me of the living water whereof who drinks shall never thirst again. In brief, Christ is seen in everything, in every object of external nature, and so with the figure employed by Zacharias in these words: "the Dayspring," or, as we would say--the dawn of the morning. Beautiful is dawn. The ancient poets have represented it as a lovely maiden rising from the waters of the East (casting aside the gloomy veil of night), and hastening forward on the foremost rays of light, to open the gates of day, whilst her rosy fingers scatter abroad the drops of sparkling dew. Zacharias employs the same illustration only to a subject more noble. He sees Messiah near at hand, breaking on the world just like the approach of dawn. Yes, the vision of His coming is so clear that he says not, "The Dayspring shall visit us," but, "The Dayspring hath visited us." Let us spend a few moments in considering, not every, but a few features that connect with this description of our Lord as the "Dayspring from on high." And here, to begin with, we have a significant thought. "The Dayspring from on high" suggests His _origin_. The day-dawn comes from the heaven; it is not of man's ordering and making, but of God's; it bears the imprint of the Creator's hand, and for this reason the Bible styles Him "the Father of lights," and says: "Every good and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights." So with this Dayspring, Christ,--He is from on high. His origin and His coming are divine. We sing: True Son of the Father, He comes from the skies, To be born of a virgin He does not despise. This earth is not His home, as it says: "The Dayspring from on high hath visited us." He came from elsewhere and He departed again elsewhere. From eternity He lay in the bosom of the Father, and when the fullness of time was come, He descended upon this earth and tabernacled among us thirty and three years, and then returned to the glory whence He came forth. It was, indeed, a transcendent sojourn, a visit that spells everything, that connects with salvation and blessedness. Yes, it was only a visit; He was from on high. To use the words of the Nicene Creed: Christ is true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, God of God, Light of Light (note that expression as in accordance with the figure in the text), very God of very God, begotten, not made; being of one substance with the Father, who for us men and for our salvation, came down from heaven and was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary, and was made man. Verily, He was the Dayspring from on high. Again, observe _the manner of His coming_,--how like the day-dawn. What so gentle as the light of morning, rising mutely in the brightening east and pouring the light so softly that never a leaf is stirred; noiselessly, peacefully does it make its approach. So when the Savior was born, He came into the world silently and unobtrusively. All heaven was moved and followed Him down to the threshold of earth; but few on earth were aware of it. One solitary star pointed to the humble birthplace, and the hymn that sang of it was heard only at night by a few watching shepherds, and His whole life partook of the same character. For which reason we sing in one of our favorite hymns: As His coming was in peace, Noiseless, full of gentleness, Let the same mind be in me That was ever found in Thee. He came like the dawn in its soft and silent approach. Then, also, in another manner. Not suddenly, nor all at once. The sun's rising is a gradual and progressive thing. First, there is but a faint gray twilight, softening the darkness and heralding what is to come, then a few dim purple streaks spread upon the far eastern horizon, followed shortly by the golden tips of the great luminary lifting the gates of the morning. So with our divine Dayspring. From all eternity it was determined that this Dayspring should come. Adam, going weeping from a paradise lost, and after him Seth and Enoch and Noah and Shem and Abraham beheld from afar the early dawn, the dim and vague streaks. The types and holy sacrifices offered in the temple after that, the psalms and prophecies given by God's inspired servants, gave still nearer and clearer views of what was to come. Zacharias exults as he sees the tips, as it were, beginning to appear. And we, with the whole Christian world, are hastening these days in spirit to see the sun rising over the hills of Judea in Bethlehem's town. How in its promises and preparations--its gradual development--was the coming of Christ like the day-spring, the rising dawn. Nor can we afford to overlook one other feature in the manner of Christ's visit as the Dayspring. The sun comes every morning, shining for all and singling out none. There is a universality of kindness about it. The poorest man and the richest, all classes and all things, have the same access to its undivided radiance. How much is this like Christ's coming! "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son." "Behold," was the angelic proclamation on Christmas night, "I bring you glad tidings of great joy which shall be to _all_ people." The Christmas story enters into the world with the broad universal look of daylight. It is as wide and open to all as is this earth. It singles out none, it excludes none, it wishes to bless a whole guilty world with the same impartiality as the sun. The Christmas message is unlimited in its invitation: "Come hither, ye faithful, O come, one and all." Silently, gradually, universally, hath and doth the Dayspring from on high visit us. And why--that is the concluding feature of our contemplation, why has it visited us? What is its object in doing so? The sun is the dispenser of the world's light and warmth and fruitfulness. Without the day-dawn everything would be chilliness, darkness, desolation, and death. Let the sun arise, shoot forth his cheering and enlivening rays,--the dormant germs start up, the buds swell, the birds sing, and man goes forth to ply the occupation of his hands. Christ is the same to the human race. He rose above the darkness of Judaism and over the night of heathenism. He declared: "I am the Light of the world." "When once Thou visitest the heart, the truth begins to shine." New life, new energy, new understanding takes hold upon the dormant and dead soul, and the fruits of righteousness spring up. To quote the text and language of Zacharias: "To give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace." There is not the least exaggeration about it; wherever Christ is preached, the darkness flees as night flies before the sun, the clouds of ignorance and superstition pass away. Pardon of sin, purity of morals, comfort in affliction, triumph in death,--these are a portion of what follows. Do these things not constitute the light of life of man? What else does? Is, to conclude, Christ such a light to you? Would you permit this season to pass without diligently inquiring whether "the Dayspring from on high" has visited your souls? Do you rejoice at His coming with holy joy? Invigorating, inspiring is the sight of a morning dawn; are you so welcoming again the Dayspring from on high about to send its healing beams, its cheering, holy splendor upon our world? Open your hearts to receive and to realize the significance and blessedness of this "Dayspring from on high, which by the tender mercy of our God hath visited us." Amen. CHRISTMAS. Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable Gift.--_2 Cor. 9, 15._ Joy to the world,--the Lord is come, Let earth receive her King, Let every heart prepare Him room, And heaven and nature sing. With these words of exultation would I greet you on this festival morn. Joy to the world, the Lord is come; the King, Messiah, after weeks of preparation, is making His triumphal entry into the habitation of men. Indeed, the long expected guest, with whom our thoughts, songs, and services in the past season of Advent were occupied, has at length arrived. How shall we receive Him? When He first came, nineteen hundred and ---- years ago, in Bethlehem's town, there was a stir and commotion. Wise men suspended their studies and speculations and followed the sign in the firmament which conducted them to the place where the young Child lay; an angel from heaven was sent as a herald to proclaim the glad tidings of great joy, while the multitude of the heavenly host eagerly descended to congratulate men and made the celestial heights resound with their seraphic acclamation: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." And, taking up that chant: "Our heart from very joy doth leap, our lips no more can silence keep." Dull like the ground he walks upon must be the man who, amongst the holy demonstration that is upon the social world, the cheerful merrymaking that is in earth's homes, the radiations of festivities and greetings of cordiality and good will, will not feel a pulsation of that cheer and brightness in his own heart. How this fact of our Christian faith, our Savior's birth, God's assumption of mutual flesh, the coming of the Most High to tabernacle among men, has been more than any other an occasion of universal rejoicing, the center of earth's noblest and holiest joy in family and in the sanctuary! Is it not fitting that it should be so? Merry Christmas, happy Christmas, blessed Christmas, we bid thee welcome! We rejoice that in the rounds of the calendar it has come again. And how shall we observe it? How receive its spiritual and highest blessedness unto ourselves? By lighting up a few candles on our trees? Decorating our windows and walls with some sprigs of garlands and green? By attending a few services during which we are present in body, but largely absent in spirit? The quiet contemplation, the sinking of our minds into the great mystery of godliness: God manifested in the flesh, the realization as it comes from pious meditation of what it all means to us and to all mankind, and that when the external glamor and motion shall have passed over, it shall have left us benefited and blessed in soul, beloved, is not this, after all, for us Christians, the true significance of this holiday time? And it is in harmony with this, that we would bring to our minds the words of the text. Let us devoutly, with concentrated and holy thoughts, regard God's gift, for thus reads the text: "Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable Gift." I. _Which is this gift?_ II. _Note what is said about it._ III. _Our conduct respecting it._ Which is it? God, my beloved hearers, is always good. His very name, God, which means good, bespeaks that. Continually is He bestowing gifts and favors upon us. "His constant mercies," declares the psalmist, "are new to us every morning." What is there which we possess that He has not given us?--clothing and shoes, meat and drink, house and home, wife and children, fields, cattle, and all my goods. But there is one gift that excels and outstrips them all. Our children, in the course of the year, are being constantly provided with all that they need to support their bodies and lives, articles of food and dress and mind, and yet the best donations we afford them, those which cause their youthful hearts to skip as the lambs, are invariably given in the days of Christmas festivity. So with the beneficent Parent on high,--always good and gracious, yet His foremost and most excellent gift He bestows at this time. And which is it? Yonder, in Bethlehem's manger, it lies. Insignificant enough as you gaze upon it with outward eyes: how tiny, unpretentious, judged by the standard of men; what lowly quarters, what unfavorable circumstances, what socially unassuming people; that woman watching over the Child, those shepherds hastening thither from their humble toil,--certainly nothing there to impress one. And this is Heaven's foremost and precious gift, the gift of all gifts. Is that the best that God can give us? Yes. For various reasons. In determining the value of earthly donations, different considerations weigh and prevail. For once, it is the sentiment that prompted that gift; it frequently is not so much the mercantile value of the gift as it is the considerations, the spirit, the sentiment, and affection that go along with it; and there, after all, rests its real power and beauty. Regard God's Christmas gift. The Apostle calls it "unspeakable"; he declares that it towers in its value and majesty beyond the reach of language and beyond the power of human expression. 'Tis truly so. What sentiment prompted it? "God so _loved_ the world that He gave His only-begotten Son." There we have the motive, His love. And why did He love man? Because he was so lovable? Nay, man had rebelled against Him, had raised himself up in disobedience against Him and His holy commandments and was at enmity with Him, and still God loved him, loved the child that had forsaken and sinned against Him, and so loved him that He spared not His dearest and His best, but delivered Him up for us all. Oh! the greatness of that charity, that love divine, all love excelling, love that passed all knowledge and understanding and expression too,--that supplied the Gift unspeakable, says the Apostle. Again, when we are the recipients of gifts, we examine them, we give them careful scrutiny, we desire to know: What is that which we have received? Apply that to God's Christmas gift. What is it? He tells us: "Unto you is born this day a Savior, which is Christ, the Lord." Not a star, not a world, not any created thing, but Christ, the Lord. Veiled in flesh the Godhead see, Hail th' incarnate Deity. Pleased as man with man to dwell, Jesus, our Emmanuel. O the mystery, the impenetrable mystery of the gift! As you sit down and meditate upon it, as you reflect and gaze upon that divine Child, reason is confounded, thought is pushed to confusion, faith stands in profound contemplation on the brink of this sea, too deep for human intelligence to fathom, too broad for man's mind to encircle, and yet, let us not stagger at the wonderful fact. We are standing to-day, my beloved, in the presence of the greatest miracle of time. We behold here no ordinary child. It's Deity in humanity, Divinity in infancy. In this little body is bound up God's immensity, in this Babe's weakness is enclosed heaven's almightiness. This child resting at His mother's breast (who can grasp it?) is the Lord of glory, the worshipful Creator of the universe, God blest forevermore. Such is the nature of the gift--"unspeakable," as the Apostle declares. Again, we consider the purpose of the gift. There are every variety and quality of gifts bestowed at this season: ornamental ones, serving the purpose of decoration and embellishment, beautiful for the eye to behold; useful ones, administering to the necessity and the comforts of their recipients. How about God's Christmas gift? Ah! for human lips to speak out its value. Again we lisp, "Unspeakable." What illustrations might I employ? You lift up your eyes and encounter the bright rays of the sun; what would this world be without the light and warmth that comes from its radiant face? You feel the drops of rain falling in gentle showers; what would the soil be without these rivulets and streams that fructify its acres? Yet all such illustrations are too improper to express what this world would spiritually be without Christ. Said the angel: "Unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior." In that word you have the key of Christmas and the purpose of God's Christmas gift. "A Savior"--what a chapter that opens before us! Back to the days of Paradise does it conduct us, when man was dwelling in innocence, fell and falling, carrying himself and all his posterity to universal and eternal destruction. Sin, that most terrible of all evils upon the soul, thorns and thistles upon the ground, misery and sickness and death upon the body, the whole creation groaning and travailing in pain,--this was the sorry consequence, and this is the sad, sad story as it is read in the history of every man's life and of the world at large. And whence was deliverance to come? From man? Helpless, powerless, hopeless creature, how could he cancel the curse that rested upon soul and body and ailing earth? A more powerful one held him at his mercy; and what could he do to pluck out the sting of death beneath whose dominion he had completely fallen? A more dismal condition could never exist. What man needed was a Savior, a Deliverer mightier than the forces that held him bound, and such a one God had promised man. Adam and Eve, leaving Paradise, were consoled by the prediction of the Seed of the Woman that should bruise the head of the serpent--the Savior, Abraham, Seth, Enoch, Noah, Isaac, and Jacob looked forward to that Deliverer and were sustained by the hope: Ah, that the Savior soon would come to break our bondage and lead us home! Succeeding saints and prophets took up the pleading strain, and sang and prophesied of His advent, and finally, when the fullness of time was come, He arrived; and what did He bring? The supply of man's foremost and chief requisite--what is that? Wealth, affluence of estate? Support of body? Not so. This is not man's foremost need. Education of mind, culture of intellect? Neither that. What is it? Deliverance from sin, death, and the power of the devil, and the salvation of man's immortal soul; for what is a man profited though he should gain the whole world, and possess all treasures and mines of knowledge, and possess not and know not how to save his soul? Beloved, when you reflect what this world would be without this divine Christmas gift, then we might well ask, Would life be worth living without Him? It would, indeed, be a dark chapter, a barren and gloomy prison cell. And so, having regarded these various particulars, we almost instinctively give voice to the Apostle's declaration: "Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift." That brings us to the concluding part of our consideration. A donation so transcendent calls for some corresponding attitude. What would we think of a child accepting its holiday gifts without showing appreciation, and speaking not a word of acknowledging thanks? Nothing is more rude than ingratitude. That spoils it all. Look at the interest the heavenly inhabitants took in that unspeakable gift. They came down with gracious messages concerning it. They were all present and sang their highest songs when the Savior was born. Their conduct was just such as we may expect from beings so pure, so intelligent, and yet it was not to them, nor for them. "Unto us a Child is born, unto us this Son is given." It is for us and for our salvation that the Lord of glory came and was made man. Here is a thought that ought to stir us to a higher pitch of emotion and gratitude. People have capacities to appreciate favors, to acknowledge good, to feel the worth of help when great and pressing need is upon them; why not over against this amazing goodness of God? Oh! that any human heart should be found weighted down by such leaden dullness that it should fail in its adoring thankfulness to God for His unspeakable gift. Far better such had never been born! And thankfulness and rejoicing, if genuine, is never selfish. Observe our children at this time. When they have received their gifts, they do not selfishly hug them to themselves, place them in a corner, and strive to keep others from seeing them; they run about displaying what kindness has bestowed, shout and make commotion, nor feel happier than when others--their playmates and companions--come to share in their merriment. It is not different with God's Christmas gift; it is designed to be the occasion of universal joy. "I bring you glad tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people." "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son." A certain ancient writer remarks: "Were some explorer to discover the real elixir of life by which life and health and youth might be made perpetual, with what shouts of triumph and songs of joy would the discovery be heralded forth!" Friend would rush to bear the glad tidings to friend, over hill and mountain; across valley and plain would the joyful tidings roll, until there were no solitary inhabitant, be his dwelling ever so remote or concealed, but would have found it out. Beloved, here is the true elixir of life, in Bethlehem's manger; there is the fountain of perpetual health and youth. Let the glorious truth, then, receive universal proclamation; let the tawny African in his dark jungle, the Eskimo in his icy, squalid hut, the dweller in the most distant isle, and the man, woman, and child that lives with you and next to you,--let one and all hear the glad news that God's unspeakable gift has come to earth. Yes, let this blessed truth spread till every sinful and sorrowing brother may rejoice with us, and that from earth and sky may echo forth in grateful refrain: "Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable Gift," now on these present Christmas festivals, and then when these earthly celebrations will have passed over into the celebration of heaven, we shall see and adore Him who was once a babe in Bethlehem, but now sitteth upon the throne, God blessed forevermore. Amen. LAST SUNDAY IN THE YEAR. We all do fade as a leaf.--_Isaiah 64, 6._ There is perhaps no truth which is more generally admitted and which is more frequently referred to than that life is short and time is fleeting, that--"man born of a woman," as Job expresses it, "is of few days and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower and is cut down." Every tolling knell that resounds its muffled voice from the church's spire, every painful sickness that casts us upon a weary and dreary couch, every change of season in nature's annual round and tearing off one leaf after the other from the calendar, until the present date, the 31st day of its last messenger, bids us discard the whole,--all these are just so many solemn and constant monitors reminding us of the brevity, the rapidity of time's flight. And yet, with all these numerous and unmistakable evidences of the transitoriness of all earthly things, how little of an abiding impression they produce! Who of us, in thoughtful reflection, does not admit the necessity of asking in this matter for divine instruction and of preparing ourselves for the time when time shall be no more, and when we shall be called upon to give account of how we have used our earthly days, and to leave this world and all its concerns? It is to this that I would invite your thoughts on this day which marks the concluding day of another chapter of life's calendar. May God's Holy Spirit teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom, as I endeavor to explain and apply the words of our text. Human life, man's natural existence, is most aptly represented by the figure before employed, the fading of a leaf. More than two thousand years ago did the inspired penman, the Prophet Isaiah, write these lines, and yet its truth is preached to us with unfailing regularity and solemnity in every recurring autumn. As we go out into the woods towards the close of each successive summer, we observe a gradual change in the appearance of the trees. We see the leaves, first one and then another, and then by degrees all of them alike, changing their green for a brown and yellow hue, at length, till, shriveling at the edges and loosening their hold to their native boughs, the wet and the cold and the wind cause them to fall to the ground with a sound so soft that it is almost silence and there, by the action of the elements, they soon decay and mingle with the earth, out of which they were first produced. Just so, my brethren, it is with ourselves. As soon as we begin to live, we begin to die. "Our hearts like muffled drums are beating funeral marches to the grave." If we succeed in adhering to the tree of life during the spring and summer of man's allotted years, autumn and winter of old age will certainly overtake us, and we shall sink away as surely and as silently as the descending leaves in fall, our spirits returning to God, who gave them, and our bodies mingling with the dust from which they were taken. We look over the annals of the world,--where are those mighty conquerors, a Hannibal, a Cæsar, an Alexander, a Napoleon, who once made whole nations tremble and kingdoms fall? Where are those brilliant statesmen, a Bismarck, a Webster, a Calhoun, and a Clay, upon whose lips admiring senates hung with wonder and delight? Where are the poets, the historians, the warriors, the divines, who, each in his day and generation, were the theme of general conversation, and were lauded with the tribute of a nation's praise? "Like the baseless fabric of a vision,"--gone. It is related of Xerxes, the powerful King of Persia, that when about to cross from Asia over to conquer Greece, he ordered a review to be made of all his forces on the shores of the Hellespont. A magnificent throne was erected upon a lofty peak. Seated on this pinnacle of gold, he gazed upon the unnumbered millions below him on ship and shore. No sight could have been more dazzling or more august. The hillsides were white with tents, the sea with ships. Gay banners floating in the sun, glittering with gold and silver, weakened the eye by their brightness and beauty; whatever unbounded wealth and intense love of display could produce or suggest was there, and in the midst of such transcendent glory and deepest homage, where multitudinous nobles were urging to kiss the hem of his garment and worshiped him as a god, the great king, Xerxes, wept. Amazed at such an act, expressive of feelings so contrary to those in which they were indulging, they reverently inquired the cause of his tears. "Alas," said he, "of all this vast multitude not one will be left upon the earth a hundred years hence." That was said more than two thousand years ago. How many generations have followed that, over which he wept and uttered this sad truth! We occupy their places now for a few days, and then we shall lie beside them. Of the congregation that is looking up into my face this morning, twenty, thirty, fifty years, where shall it be? The church bell will be rung out, I hope, from its steeple, but it shall be rung by other hands, and for other worshipers. This pulpit will be filled by another preacher and the pews by other listeners. As you would pass in your way home from its door, in your family and social circles, how you would miss the old and once familiar forms, yea, perhaps our very homes will be occupied by strangers. As the prophet says: "We all do fade as a leaf." Lest our subject should be rendered useless by being too general, I will proceed, without further delay, to apply our text and this by addressing the various classes of persons among you, so that all, by the baptism of the Holy Ghost, may derive some spiritual benefit. That our text refers not to one class, but to every, is evident from the word "all,"--"We all do fade as a leaf." It applies itself, then, first to the young. Not only in autumn and winter, but even in the spring and early months of the year, leaves are seen to fall. And similarly, as the inscriptions upon the many tombstones in our last resting-places will testify, so many of the human family disappear in infancy and youth. It is a mournful sight to see them thus carried off in the vigor and tenderness of opening bloom, but it's one that ought to convey solemn teaching to those of youthful years. And what teaching? Wise King Solomon has expressed it in these words: "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth." And why? Because it is the most favorable time, the most God-honoring time, the most profitable. At no other time is the soul so capable of deep and abiding impressions, are the affections more easily touched and moved, are we more accessible to the influences of emotions and truth. It is preeminently the choosing time, the valley of decision, in which at almost every step we do or leave undone something which has its effect, for good or ill, upon one's future habits and character and eternity; and you can only be prepared to determine matters that call for decision when you have made the great decision; you can choose and act safely and wisely in all the other departments of life, the social, the intellectual, the moral, only when you have taken a decisive stand upon the subject of religion. Hence, our Savior urgently entreats young people: "Seek ye first," first in point of importance and first in point of years, "the kingdom of heaven." Ah, my young members, if the sun does not dispel the mists pretty early in the morning, you may look with reasonable certainty for a foggy day, and so if the Sun of Righteousness, Christ Jesus, does not early in the day of your lives dispel the mists of unbelief and sin, the chances are that it will be more or less gloomy obstruction the rest of your lives. You will never be such Christians as you would have been; there will not be the development of character as if you had started at the right time, and there will always be a feeling of regret in your heart. Note, then, that this is the time to begin to serve God; now is the time to put the yoke of Christ upon your necks and to break yourselves in for lives of usefulness. And what is more God-honoring? Religion is always an ornament, it decorates the silvery locks and the wrinkled brow, but it looks exquisitely attractive and suitable when worn by youth. God accepts the sinner at all times, even when he comes with tottering footsteps and with stooped back; but is it right to do service to another and make Him suspend His claim as your rightful Lord to satisfy the world and the flesh, His degrading rivals, to sow wild oats in the springtime of your years and send Him forth to gather among the stubbles the gleanings of life, after the enemy has secured the harvest? Nay, to Him belong the first-born of your days, the first-fruits of your season, the price of your love and devotion,--give them. You will never regret it. Incalculable are the benefits of early piety, beneficial for body and business, for character and connections, for mind and morals, for after-life and life after death; for, as our text inculcates, your earthly existence hangs but on a slender, frail, and feeble fiber. Do you know of none in your circle of acquaintances swept low by the grim reaper whom we call death? And what assurance have you, my youthful hearers, that you may not be among his victims in the succeeding year? Glory not, then, in your health and strength. Pride yourself not on anything which is so feeble and frail, but seek those solid blessings which are to be found in Christ Jesus, and make true preparation against the time when you shall go hence and be no more. "Remember thy Creator," thy Redeemer, thy Sanctifier, "in the days of thy youth." Again, the text addresses itself to the middle-aged. Scarcely a summer passes over our heads but some tempests, lightning, hail, rain, and thunder, rage in the sky, and these commotions of the elements drive myriads of leaves, although then firmly grown and filled with sap, from their branches to the ground, and there, like those that fall later, they fade away. It is so with man. In the midst of all his hustling industry and matured vigor, when, as Job says, his bones are moistened with marrow, he is liable to be carried off by various diseases and casualties. Absalom died before his father. The list of orphans in the Bible is not small, and among us those attired in sable garments, because of those whose sun has gone down at noon, are not few. A tender leaf, which the first strong wind, the first descending shower loosens in its hold,--that is man in the strength of his days. And what does that teach those of maturer years? That they presume not on their sturdiness, and that they forget not, amidst the distractions of all manner of connection for what life has been given, and correspondingly rightly improve it. Life has been given us for a high and noble purpose; it is not only a time of preparation and of probation for the world to come, it is a time of activity, of usefulness in the service of God and fellow-man, and "he most lives who thinks the most, feels the noblest, acts the best." There are those who live a mere animal life, whose sublimest principle and purpose is embodied in the motto: "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we shall be dead." As for God, heaven, and eternity, there is none. There are those who live a mere worldly life; gaining a livelihood and property, acquiring a social standing and a position, perhaps a ribbon or a medal,--that's their life's chief object and design. There are those who lead bad lives, diabolical lives, making society miserable and families wretched; and there are those who lead good lives, morally and socially, providing things honestly in the sight of all men. But there is one class that, according to Scripture, lives a right life, a life that will bear the sight of the Judge eternal and receive His heavenly plaudit: "Well done, thou good and faithful servant," and that is the man and the woman who lives a Christian life, a life in Christ Jesus, who, while believing in Him as their only Lord and Savior, are seeking to imitate His precepts; who live to His glory, with the furtherance of His kingdom constantly in mind; who make everything that they undertake and do conducive to the praise and honor of their God; who delight to render their time, talents, and means in such a service. Any other kind of a life but that is a life of God's grace neglected, of moments wasted in selfishness, in indolence, in sensuality often, in wickedness, and it fails of the purpose for which time has been given. Let us be careful, then, how we employ it; never live a week in vain; having something at the close of it for the reviewing eye to fix upon; something for God, for your fellow-creatures, for yourself. Live for Christ, and thus best live while you live, and be best prepared when you are called upon to die, for as you live, thus will you die, and thus will you be judged. There remains, however, one more class to which our text refers with great propriety, and that is the aged. If the young and middle-aged may fall, the old must; there is no remedy or human skill, or physician's antidote against the wrinkled brow, the failing memory, and the stiffening of the joints. "The days of our years," says the Psalmist, "are threescore years and ten, and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away." How soon this may take place, who can declare? What attitude, then, becomes those who have upon them declining years? I know no better answer than to gaze upon that patriarchal couple in to-day's Gospel, Simeon and Anna; what a beautiful picture of declining life as it is calmed and brightened by the comforts of religion and the hope of nearing heaven. How impressive to see them meet in the temple of God, and taking upon their arms the blessed object of their faith and prayer for all those long rolling years, speaking of Him, as it says, unto all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem, finally singing their "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation." "The hoary head is a crown of glory," says Solomon, "if it be found in the way of righteousness." Let the aged saints, then, among us use their advancing years to speak, as years' and hearts' experience alone can speak, of Him who is their Salvation and Consolation; let them, by the respect due them, cause us to more greatly respect Him whom they have learned to know, and by their lives be an example to the younger generations how to live. Having, then, regarded our text: "We all do fade as a leaf," let us have learned, as these years pass away, how to receive the crown, incorruptible, and undefiled, and which passeth not away. Amen. NEW YEAR'S DAY. Our Father which art in heaven.--_Matt. 6, 9._ Dr. Luther, after his inimitable fashion, once remarked: "The Lord's Prayer is the greatest martyr upon earth. It is a pity above all pity that such a prayer by such a Master should be so terribly abused in all the earth. Many pray the Lord's Prayer a thousand times a year, and though they prayed it a thousand years, yet have they not properly prayed one letter thereof." It is a sweeping and striking assertion. The truth of his remarks, however, who would wish to contest? Take, in evidence, the words of the text. The opening words of that divine prayer taught by the Lord Himself are indeed familiar words,--no service but we recite them, no day but a Christian ought to recite them; yet, have we ever regarded the deep significance that is contained, the inspiration that is hidden, in them? A little reflection will prove how appropriate they are for this day, the beginning of a new year in civil life. _Our Father_,--that expresses, I. _trust in God_, II. _obedience in duty_, III. _submission in affliction_. All these we need for our encouragement and spiritual profit to-day. What sacred associations cluster around the word "father"! The thought of him, _if he was a father indeed_, was inwoven into all our youthful plans and early ambitions. We knew no worldly care when we dwelt beneath his sheltering roof; as we grew in years, we increased also in confidence in him. He was our adviser in doubt, our protector in danger, our supporter in perplexity. A true father is the best earthly friend while he is alive, and after he is gone, there gathers around his memory a halo of tender remembrance. All that is generous, manly, noble, and wise is to a loving son treasured up in the word "father." But the earthly significance, the human fatherhood, does not exhaust the meaning of this blessed name; it is but a mere pattern and shadow of that relationship which God sustains to His people. He is a "Father"; we, then, are His children by nature and adoption, by creation and redemption, and, as children, we may go to Him, and with all confidence and boldness ask Him as dear children ask their dear father. And such confidence, such trustful looking up in faith and reliance to Him as our Father, is a becoming attitude to-day. We stand upon the shores of another year, as it lifts itself, veiled in mist, from the great ocean of the future. Futurity means uncertainty, and uncertainty suggests anxiety. Say not that it is not so. As God created man, he is forecasting in his thoughts. It is as easy and natural for us to have regard to what is before us as it is for the waters of the Mississippi to flow towards the Gulf. Nor does God forbid it. Says wise King Solomon: "A wise man deviseth his way." He forms his plans, he frames his resolutions, he has his ambitions, his object in life that he wishes to attain. It is not a sign of sanity or of Christianity to walk into the future blindfolded, irresolutely, improvidently. The business man who at this time looks over his stock and ledger and strikes a balance of profit and loss, so as to make prudent arrangement for the business of the incoming year, the man of family who gazes upon the members seated about his table, and, considering demands and expenditures, weighs his income and ability to make ends meet, or whatever situation you may be in, or relation you may sustain, an intelligent, provident, weighing, considering, looking into the future is legitimate, wise, proper. But that is one thing; another thing, and not an uncommon thing, rather too prevalent, is to look into the future with fear, trembling of heart, and anxiety of mind. "Oh, how shall we ever get through; it's been none too rosy in the past, income scant, debts, some yet to pay, children growing up, health not to boast of,"--what a dreadful nightmare these considerations are to many people at the start of a new year; how it crushes out all good cheer, happiness, the very thing men are wishing each other! 'Tis foolish, 'tis needless, and godless! A man bending and staggering along the road under the weight of a heavy load met a passing wagon; he was invited to get in. He did so, but he still kept the load on his back. Foolish man! Yet that's the common attitude. God's chariot drives up to us this morning, overtaking us on life's way. "Get in, traveler, I will bear thee along," is the invitation. "Cast all your cares upon me. I will care for you." "Thank you, kind Lord, but I prefer to bear the load myself." There is a Being that has brought us into this world,--Father, we call Him. He is a resourceful Father, having all forces and agencies of sky, land, and sea, all the operations of men, angels, and beasts at His command; He is a loving Father; He has pleasure in the children after His heart. Silly child, you say, that will start to cry and make a great ado because it has conceived the notion that its wealthy father cannot feed and clothe it any longer. Is it not just as incongruous, my dear Christian, for you to perplex yourself with thoughts of anguish that God cannot provide for you any more? "He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him freely give us all things?" He should neglect His loving providence, leave and forsake thee this year? O ye of little faith! In one of the books handed to our children at Christmas time is the history of a familiar and beautiful German hymn. Reduced by financial straits to sell his only means of support, his violin, a poor musician took it to the pawnshop of a Jew. As he gave it up, he looked lovingly at it, and tearfully asked the Jew if he might play one more tune upon it. "You don't know," he said, "how hard it is to part with it. For ten years it has been my companion; if I had nothing else, I had it. Of all the sad hearts that have left your door, there has been none so sad as mine." Whereupon, pausing for a moment, he seized the instrument and commenced a tune so exquisitely soft that even the Jew listened, in spite of himself. Then, laying aside the instrument, he said, "As God will," and rushed from the shop, only to be stopped at the door by a stranger, who, having listened, said to him, "Could you tell me where I could obtain a copy of that song? I would willingly give a florin for it." "I will give it to you without the florin." The stranger happened to be the Swedish ambassador, and when he heard the poor man's story, his troubles ended then and there. Redeeming the instrument, he called his landlady and his friends, and sang, to his own accompaniment, his own sweet hymn, No. 350 in our hymn-book, of which this is the first stanza: Leave God to order all thy ways, And hope in Him, whate'er betide, Thou'lt find Him, in the evil days, Thine all-sufficient strength and guide. Who trusts in God's unchanging love Builds on a rock that naught can move. This is the first reflection that lies in these introductory words, "Our Father." It expresses trustful looking up to Him at the beginning of the year. And, _again_, it supplies obedience in duty. It is a part of the father's relation to direct and control, as well as provide, for his children. He has a rightful authority over his household, the right to tell them what to do and how to do. None other with our heavenly Father. The new year means new activities, new problems, new duties. With the morrow the tradesman, the mechanic, and the clerk will return to the work of his calling, the student to his books, and the housewife will be as busy as ever before. The great machinery of secular life will all clatter and hum in all its complexity and parts. And in the church, there will not, as there dare not be, a standstill. Much still remains to be done. How shall we face it? In our own strength? "With might of ours can naught be done, soon were our loss effected." After our own plans, doing things to suit our own selves? Is that the way it is in a well-regulated household? There is one whose law obtains, whose word determines, whose wish regulates it all. So ought it be with our life's duties. No matter what may be the occupation of your head and of your hands, whether you be a physician ministering to the alleviation of human ills, or a carpenter constructing the earthly home for man to dwell therein, our blessed Lord was both, physician and carpenter. Whether life's work finds you busy with the pen, like Matthew, the publican, sitting at the receipt of custom, or, like Martha, cumbered and concerned about many things, one reigning principle ought to be governing it all, as it governed the life of Him who was our example in all things, this: "My work is to do the will of Him that sent me." Begin your work with Him, consecrate it to Him, conduct it with Him. Serve Him in it. There are two ways of doing everything--with God and without God. You may go to your work on Monday morning with God or without God; you may discharge its thousand and one different details with God or without God; your fellow-workman and companions may not know the difference, and yet, my dear hearer, it makes all the difference in the world, and a difference even for the world to come, whether you do your work with a glance of the eye upward and a spirit that says, "Our Father." Work without God is drudgery, duty cold and stern; it lacks inspiration, warmth, joyful energy. It is done because it must. It makes the worker a slave. That is not the way God would have us perform it, and it is not the work--neither in family, nor shop, nor church, that brings grand results. Whenever you feel your service becoming irksome or your duties degenerating, done with little conscientiousness and still less joy, then speak, "Our Father"; and when you saunter forth knowing that you are going to perform your Father's business, then the direst and most uninteresting things of daily life will acquire a new importance in your eyes, and will be done with a spring of elasticity and gladsomeness. Let me ask you to try this heavenly specific, and you will find that bending over your toil, with these thoughts, it will be lit up with radiance and significance hitherto inexperienced and duty will be merged into delight. This is the second consideration, when we can truly and intelligently say, "Our Father," life's work becomes transfigured with a new meaning and joy. In such a spirit go hence to this year's employments. Do them with God. One other phase of human experience remains to be touched upon at this time. The Lord Himself hath said by the mouth of Solomon: "He that spareth the rod hateth the child," and He is too wise a Father to think of training His children without discipline. It is by sending them trials that He leads them to bethink themselves and to return when they have been backsliding, develops them in character, and prepares them for the discharge of arduous and important duties. Whatever we may regard this method of dealing with us, this is His method, and it will be no different with the incoming year. What shape that trial will take, this none can say in advance; it may bring sickness to ourselves or to our near and dear ones; pain of body, feverish tossing, restless nights, weary days; it may bring reverses in fortune; the position we thought so secure may pass into the hands of another; our income may decrease, trade languish, accidents and expenses multiply; it may be that the grim visitor will invade our homes, a casket, little or large, be placed into our rooms to remind us that in the midst of life we are in death. God alone, who knows the future, knows. And when these ordeals occur, it is well to keep before us a few things. In the first place, we must recognize that, however strange and unwelcome these experiences are, 'tis He who sends them, and gives them just because He deals with us as His children. Discipline is a privilege that a father reserves for His own children. One does not get himself to correct the faults of all the young people in the neighborhood. You direct your efforts along that line to your own, and only because of your affectionate interest in them do you visit them with correction. Even so it is with God, and when we are suffering from His hands, instead of thinking that He has forgotten us, we ought to see in the chastisement a new evidence of His continued regard for us. The trials sent us, my dear hearers, are the tokens of a heavenly Father's affection, and happy art thou if in life's salutary discipline you have learned to look up and say, "Thy will be done." Then, knowing from whom it proceeds--to mention the second consideration,--you will be wonderfully sustained. To illustrate, a story from my holiday reading: A little girl sent on an errand had to cross a wide but shallow stream, but there were firm and tried stepping-stones all the way over. "Oh! I'm afraid," said the child to a lady who was passing. "Why are you afraid, there are stones all the way over. See how easily I can cross it." Very timidly the little girl began to cross. "Just one step at a time is all you have to take," said the kind guide. So one step followed another--the first few were the hardest to take,--and soon she was safe on the other shore, smiling at her fears. "It is not so hard after all," she remarked, "just one step at a time brought us over." Beloved, when troubles come,--they are sure to, in this year also,--do not look so much at the waters before you, but at the stepping-stones the Father has placed for your feet. Here is a strong, firm stepping-stone that has often sustained me: "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." Here is another: "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want." Have a few such stepping-stones, select one in particular for this year. This, perhaps, will do, small, but weighty, "Our Father." Amen. EPIPHANY SUNDAY. I am the Light of the world.--_John 8, 12._ Underneath Rome, the ancient capital of the world, and extending for miles and miles between the River Tiber and the Mediterranean Sea, are those mysterious passages called the catacombs. How far they go, whither they lead, at what exact point they terminate, no living man can tell. From the examinations of the learned who have explored them for some little distance, at some few points, we know that they are long and narrow quarries in the rock; underground roads mined out of the soft volcanic tufa, or stone, on both sides of which the early Christians, who would not burn, but insisted on burying their dead, would deposit their departed, and where during these fierce persecutions they would also assemble for worship. These passages are but high enough to walk upright through them; they are so narrow in width that you can touch the sides on either hand, as you grope along, and they are unutterably silent and dark. If you strain your eye forward, you see nothing beyond the few feet which the feeble torch or flickering candle illumines; if you look up, the rock is there; if you gaze to the right or to the left, you see the shallow niches, like shelves, one over another, where are strewn the bones of the dead, crumbling into dust and ashes; and gazing behind you, you feel a choking sensation at the heart, that if your light should go out, or your guide should forsake you, you would never find your way back,--as it is a well-known fact that many too curious in their researches have disappeared. Such, then, are the catacombs, a subterranean home of death, a place of impenetrable darkness. And, my beloved, what better emblem could be found to illustrate what this world is like, without the Gospel of Jesus Christ, than the hopeless labyrinths of darkness underneath the City of Rome? Take the time when our Savior pronounced these words of our text, or when, as Epiphany suggests to us, those wise men came from the East, following the star,--what darkness was spread over the earth! With the exception of the one people, numbering only a few millions at most, and these sunk away in general apostasy, aside from the little wax lights of the Jews, there was universal gloom. Around them, to the farthest limit of the earth, including enlightened and refined Greece and Rome, the whole world of man lay in heathenism and idolatry, feeling after God, but knowing Him not, worshiping and serving creatures rather than the ever-blessed Creator. Think of Egypt's adoration of bulls, rams, cats, bugs, birds, and crocodiles! Think of the Assyrian's worship, or of any of those people of antiquity, rendering to beasts or to heroes and the spirits of dead men, like the Chinese and Japanese and Hindoos of this day, the homage due unto the living God! Add to this the attendant miseries, shameless debaucheries, cruelties, revolting abominations, practiced all over in the name and belief of honoring God and meriting the favor of heaven, and it may well be said, the world was darkness, pitch black darkness. And it is so even to this present day where Christianity has not yet shed its redeeming light. It is so with every human soul; the darkness of ignorance, of sin, of misery is upon it. The man whose understanding has not yet been enlightened by the beams of spiritual truth is just like a tourist groping along, and stumbling among, the bones and dust of the catacombs. He knows not what he is living for, as little as the underground passenger knows whither he is going. Whenever misfortune and sorrow comes, there is none to turn to for consolation. Whenever conscience is troubled and agitated with a sense of its guilt, and there are times when the spectral hand of conscience, like in the case of King Belshazzar, writes bitter things against them, there is no remedy or peace. When death comes, it is all gloom, spiritual night, a prison-house, a catacomb. All our knowledge, sense, and sight Lie in deepest darkness shrouded, Till God's brightness breaks our night By the beams of truth unclouded. And that is the lesson of this season, which means manifestation, that is the message of Christ to the world of man and to each soul. He is the Light. As God at the beginning of the world, when it was a huge mass of confused matter, wrapped in unpenetrable darkness, spake the word: "Let there be light," and there was light, so, when humanity at the beginning of these ---- years was spiritual darkness, the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, and men saw His glory, the glory of the Only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. Addressing ourselves to our text, let us _I. trace some points of resemblance between Christ and light_; _II. note the conduct which becomes us toward this Light_. The purest and most untarnishable thing in this world is light. Snow is pure, so is ice, water, and air, but each of these will admit of defilement, may be marred and polluted. It is not so with light. Man's hand cannot soil it. No corruption can infest or cleave to it. Nothing can defile its rays or attach pollution to its beams. And such is Christ. All creatures have shown themselves liable to sin and moral taint, but Christ passed through the world of sin as a sunbeam through a house of filth and disease, and came forth as pure and blessed as He sprang from God Himself. He took on Him sin's form, that He might endure sin's due, but sin's stain He never knew. In Bethlehem's manger, He was the holy Child. He lived a human life, oppressed with all its cares and temptations, grew up among its corrupt children, suffered its coarseness, its rebuffs, and its villainies, but with all this He did no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth. He was the spotless Lamb of God, pure; for He was the Light. Again, light is as bright as it is pure. Things are bright in proportion as they are full of light. The day is bright when no clouds shut out the sun. The scenery is bright when illumined by the greatest number of rays. The hope is bright when it is freest from gloomy forebodings and fullest of the light of promise. And such is Christ. He is brightness, "the brightness of the Father's glory," and His office is to dispense brightness. That is the brightest time in the soul when there is most of Christ in it. That is the brightest page on which most of Christ is found. That is the brightest sermon in which most of Christ is heard. That is the brightest life in which most of Christ is seen. That is the brightest world in which Christ is most fully received; and that heart, that home, that church is but confusion and darkness where Christ is not. Light, likewise, is free. It comes without cost, and it comes everywhere. No poverty is so great as to debar from its blessing, nor is there an open crevice, a nook or corner in all this wide world into which it is unwilling to enter, or where it fails to throw its heavenlike smiles. The halls of the great and the huts of the humble does it gild alike, and that without money and without price. As related, it is free, and so is Christ. The command is: "Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature." There is no place nor spot where its beams are not to be diffused, no heart into which it does not struggle for entrance. To the poor as well as to the rich, to Jews as well as to Gentiles is Christ offered equally freely, and on the same terms of free grace to each and all willing to accept Him. He is the true Light, ready to lighten every man that cometh into the world. Another quality that pertains to the nature of light is that it is revealing. Darkness obscures. Where it is not light, a pit may gape at our feet, a murderer may be waiting in our path, a dagger aimed at our heart; we do not see and know, our vision is held. It requires light to perceive these things. And so in the spiritual world, Christ is the great Revealer. By Him we come to know God and our true selves. By Him we learn who and where we are, what our needs are, and how to relieve them. One of the hardest things in the world is to make people believe that they are guilty and lost beings. The reason is, they are in the dark. They need the light to show them themselves. And that light is Christ. Only let a man examine himself in the light of Christ's life and teaching, and it will not be long until he sees that self of his to be a mere mass of guilt, and things appearing quite differently in this world of imperfection and sin. And to mention the final feature, light is life-giving. Without light the world is dead. Where the sun rarely shines, or not at all, there is barrenness, dreariness, perpetual winter, desolation. It is the warming light of spring that starts the dormant germs, that swells the buds, and clothes the vineyards, the field, and the woods with vegetation, fragrance, and plenty. So with the spiritual Light. Where Christ is not, life is not, there is spiritual barrenness, winter upon the soul. But when His beams shine in upon the soul, the seeds of virtue put forth, the tree of faith lifts up its fragrant bloom, and the fruits and flowers of love and grace spring and bud. Thus, by a few comparisons with the material, natural light, have we sought to explain in what sense Christ is called, or rather calls Himself, the Light. Let us inquire how we ought to conduct ourselves toward Him. First of all, if you would enjoy the blessings of this Light, you must receive the Light; the outward illumination must be followed by a corresponding inward one. What good does the light do the man who, when its morning rays shine into his room, will pull down the shades and close the shutters and pull the cover of his couch over his head? It's only the worse for the man. The thing is to receive it, to throw open the shutters of your heart, and to let its radiant sunbeams burst into its every corner and crevice. That is what it is for, and we fail of its purpose and benefit if we fail to so treat it. What if the incoming rays do show us the dust that lies upon furniture and floor? Should we therefore dislike it, reject it, or should we cleanse the furniture and the floor? What if the spiritual Sun reveals to us our darling sins and ignorances? Should we therefore avoid it and dislike it? It is extremely sorry to see the attitude of the most of mankind, how they will cling like bats and owls to darkness who fly away to some dismal haunts, and there sit and blink whenever a ray of spiritual sunlight reaches them. Christ Himself said: "Men love darkness rather than light." Let it not be so to us. Let us accept and profess it, take its blessed rays into our souls. And, again, let us reflect it. The Bible directs us not only to be radiant and luminous ourselves, but to give light and shining so as to enlighten others, just like the moon and the planets, who, borrowing their light from the sun, are directed to do service in their way and sphere. So, borrowing from the Sun of Righteousness, we must shine forth, each in his respective sphere. "Let your light so shine before men," says our Savior, "that they may see your good works." And be it understood this pertains to every Christian, to be a lamp and light-dispensing orb. Parents are called to a large share in this office. Young men and young women in the Sunday-school partake in the same commission. The officers to be installed this morning, every man, woman, and child in the church have a large and responsible share, and charged to let his or her light shine in carrying light to the souls of others. With this opening of the new year let us be reminded of our Christian duty. Having seen the Sun of Righteousness rising over the hilltops of Bethlehem, and rejoicing in its spiritual splendors, see that the benefits be of lasting impression. Ask yourselves, at the outset, where its Sundays will find you. And know they are the rays of brightening and illumination in sacred thoughts and improvements, the days in which the divine Word shines forth in its radiancy and the gracious Light of salvation flashes in its glory; then, how can you be children of light and yet forsake the assembling of yourselves together where the light is? How can you thus be light-bearers, according to God's direction? And so in every particular. Taking on the brightness of the true Light, may it exhibit itself in your energies and activities. "No man lighteth a candle and putteth it under a bushel or under a bed, but on a candlestick, that it may give light to all that are in the house." Let it be in your houses, and if in the past year the candle of your faith and devotion has been flickering low, it's an opportune time to trim the wick afresh and to brighten the flame. We have seen that Christ is the true and only Light. Let us believe in Him and walk in Him, now in this day of Gospel brightness and salvation,--so that we may become partakers of that still more stupendous Epiphany, that glorious manifestation, when the Son of Man shall appear in full splendor of His glory to take us home to the inheritance of the saints in light. Amen. FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.--_Eccl. 12, 1._ There is no idea, my beloved, more common among men than this, that not childhood, nor youth, nor manhood, but old age is the most suitable period for becoming religious. The argument in support of this idea runs thus: In old age we have less to do with the affairs of this world, and consequently shall have more time and leisure for those of the next; then this world will afford us little enjoyment and pleasure, and with our passions quenched, with hair turning gray, hands palsied, limbs tottering, can we fail to recognize these as the heralds of the grim king and hear his voice that says: "Be ready, the Judge is at the door"? As a vessel, rocked by storms and falling to pieces, makes all haste to get to port, so will we. So runs the argument. Prevalent as this idea is, it's a wild fancy, a mocking and baseless delusion. For various reasons: At no time is change of heart more difficult than in old age. Not as if God's grace were less powerful then, but because the difficulties of conversion increase with years; the heart grows more callous, the sinful habits stronger. Take a sapling, for instance; it bends to your hand, turning this way or that, as you will. When seventy springs have clothed it with leaves and the sun of seventy summers has added to its breadth and height, it scorns, not yours only, but a giant's strength. Every year of the seventy, adding fiber to its body and firmness to the fibers, has increased the difficulty of bending it. In the matter of our everlasting welfare it is much the same. Advancing time hardens the fibers of man's heart. Of all tasks we know, there is none so difficult as to touch the feelings and rouse the conscience of godless old age. Moreover, it is an extremely doubtful matter whether we shall ever reach old age. Few do, and the probability is that we shall not. Of all our race, nearly half die in infancy. Another large proportion sinks into the grave ere the summer of life is past. Ask that aged man with stooping form and slow gait, where the playmates are of his childhood; where the boys that sat by him at the desk in school; where the youths, flushed with health and full of hope, with whom he started in the race of life; where his fellow-workmen or partners in business. With one blow of His hand, one sentence of His lips, God may dash all our expectations of threescore years and ten to pieces. This night thy soul shall be required of thee, and then think of the folly that suggests that old age is the best for getting an interest in Christ, peace with God, and a meetness for the kingdom of heaven. Do men act with such infatuation in other and far less important matters? Here is a man who insures his life,--why? Because, he will tell you, life is uncertain, because nothing is more uncertain, because the chances are he may not live to be old; "and if I would be cut off suddenly, what is to become of my family?" Men regard this worldly prudence. But, oh, that man would reason as soundly and act as wisely where high interests are at stake! Let me change but a little the terms of that question: If you should be cut off suddenly and early, what is to become of your family, and ask: If you should die suddenly and early, what is to become of your soul? Let me this morning, prompted by the Gospel-lesson of this Sunday, which presents to us the youthful Savior in the temple, ask you, especially my young hearers, to ponder with me the words of our text: "Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth." We shall consider, _I. that youth is the most favorable season in which to begin a religious course_; _II. point out some of the beneficial results of early piety_; _III. conclude with a word of general application_. Youth, my beloved, is the most favorable time to begin a religious course, because, we would say, in the first place, it's the critical time of a person's life. Childhood receives impressions easily, but these impressions, while lively, are not deep or abiding. How soon the infant forgets its mother and transfers its love to another, and the children that stood so pitiful at a parent's casket, a few weeks afterward are as buoyant and gay at their play as the happiest of their playmates. Manhood, again, on the other hand, like the solid rock, retains impressions once made, but does not easily receive them; what the intellect has gained in ripeness, the heart has lost in tenderness; and impressibility, lying between these two periods, is youth; then it is that our minds, like the wax to which the seal, or the clay to which the mold is applied, possess both the power of receiving impressions and the power of retaining them. Then the character is fixed; then the turn is taken either for God or for the world; then the road is entered which determines our future destiny. It is an old and trite saying, found in another tongue, "What the boy does not learn, the man does not know." In youth the powers are more volatile, the memory is receptive and tenacious. The mind is lively and vigorous, the affections are more easily touched and moved, we are more accessible to the influence of joy and sorrow, hope and fear, we engage in an enterprise with more expectation, ardor, and zeal.--Moreover, the season of youth will be found to contain the fewest obstacles, and is most free from the troubles which afterward embitter, cares which afterward perplex, and the schemes which engross, and engagements which hinder one in more advanced and connected life. And, hence, it has been the advice of the wise men: "In the morning sow thy seed." It is the young and tender root that penetrates the soil; it is when the fibers are delicate that, entering the fissures, it passes into the heart of the rock; and the earlier the mind is brought in contact with religion and becomes acquainted with its great and immense objects, the more thoroughly in after life will it comprehend and, like a root wrapped around the rock, the more firmly hold to it. It is the young recruits that become the best soldiers, and young apprentices the best mechanics, and the best Christians, in like manner, are those who have been so early. Run, in evidence of that, over the list of names which God so honorably distinguished in history, Joseph, Samuel, David, Solomon, Jonah, Timothy, John,--and you will observe that in almost all cases they are examples of early piety. And if we come to later times and read the biographies of those that have been eminent in God's kingdom, like our great reformer, Dr. Luther, and his colaborers, of Dr. Walther, and scores and hundreds of others, the Almighty seems to have acted almost invariably by the same rule, and appears to have seldom conferred distinguished honor, with very few exceptions, except on early piety. They were all men that feared the Lord in their youth. How important and reasonable, then, is youth to begin a religious course. And, again, we would remark, it is, of all others, the most honorable period in which to begin a course of godliness. Religion is an ornament. Piety in any situation or age is pleasing to the Most High. It is well, when the world cannot fill our hearts, to turn our trembling steps from its broken cisterns to the fountain of living waters. It is a grand testimony to religion to see a gray and bent old man standing by the door of mercy and with loud and urging knocking imploring God to open and let him in; but it's exquisitely more attractive and noble to see a youth in the beauty and dew of his age giving himself to Christ and a life of high and holy virtues. Would you thank any one to offer you the shell without the kernel, or the stalk without the flower, or a purse without the money? And think you God is pleased with the dregs of the cup, the refuse and few declining years of a man's life? Is it fair and reasonable that men should employ their time and talents, their health and their strength, and their genius to serve Satan, the world, and the flesh, God's degrading rivals, and then ask Him to gather among the stubble of life after the enemy has secured the harvest? In the Old Testament God commanded that green ears had to be offered; the _first_ had to be chosen for His services: the _first_-born of man, the _first_-born of beasts, the _first_ fruits of the field. It was an honor becoming the Lord they worshiped to serve Him first. And, correspondingly, it is your duty in the New Testament that you should give Him the first-born of your days, the first fruits of your reason, the prime of your affections. It is with such sacrifices that God is well pleased. The Apostle John was the youngest disciple; he was called the disciple whom Jesus loved. It's the most suitable and honorable, and it is the most profitable and advantageous. It has its reward. That is our second consideration, _viz._, the beneficial results of early piety. Here we would note, as the first advantage, that to serve God in youth is a safeguard, a defense against vice and temptations. No age, indeed, is secure. Till we arrive in heaven and have laid off this body of sin and infirmities we are never safe. Here, like travelers in the mountains, where a coating of snow hides the treacherous ice, and one false step may prove the Christian's ruin, we walk in slippery places, and have need to lean on an arm stronger than our own. Still youth is of all ages the most dangerous. With its ardent temper, its inexperience, its credulity, taking appearances for realities, its impatience of restraint, its unbroken passions, and feeble hands to control and guide them, it requires the utmost care and vigilance. "Lead us not into temptation," should be its daily, constant, earnest prayer. We read at times in our public prints of the wrecks that happen on the shores of our great lakes or the ocean, of vessels gone down in disaster and storms. What is that list of wrecked vessels to the number of men and women who year by year are wrecked in their youth on the dangers and vices of our towns,--our town? What a graveyard of virtue, honor, and honesty! Let the places of business where employers show no regard to the welfare, but only to the work of those in their service; let the houses where no friendly interest is taken in their domestics; let the halls of public amusement, the haunts of drunkenness, and the hells of vice, give up their secrets, as the sea does the drowned cast upon the beach, and we should have a roll like the prophet's, "written without and within with lamentations, mourning, and woe," as shocking, if not more so, as the field of battle, covered with the carnage of war. And out upon the scene, from the virtuous influence of home and school, steps the unsophisticated youth, a thousand avenues of seduction opening around him and a siren voice singing at the entrance of each. Evil companions surround him, erroneous publications ensnare his eye, means and opportunities of temptation and sin. He may flatter himself that his own good sense and moral feelings will render him secure, but as the wise King Solomon says: "He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool." The force of examples, the influence of circumstances, the voice of railing and ridicule, the fascinations of the pleasure party, stifle the finest resolutions, and often render us an astonishment to ourselves, as the old proverb says: "Give the devil an inch, and he will take an ell." No, depend upon it, there is nothing that will do to keep you virtuous, noble, and happy but a hearty consecration of soul and body to the God that loves you, and the Savior that redeemed you, nothing else than the restraints which that God inspires in His holy Law, and the helps that He provides in the rules and ordinances of His Church. Let a young Christian love the habitation of His house, the place where His honor dwelleth, and let Him follow the Savior's direction to watch and pray, and he will retain an undefiled soul in an undefiled body. Nor only thus before God, but as it says of the youthful Savior in to-day's Gospel. He increased in favor with God and _man_. Early piety is honored, commands the respect of every right thinking person in this world. You will remember how the sterling piety of the youthful Joseph was honored by Potiphar and afterwards by the King of Egypt himself. Nor need I remind you how Daniel and the other three Hebrew youths, because of the excellent spirit of piety that was in them, was promoted to the highest post of dignity and responsibility in the Chaldean empire, and whilst God does not promise you that if you seek Him in your youth, you will be advanced to sit among princes and to rule kingdoms, He promises you honor and respect, in whatever station you may be placed. The most worldly people and religiously careless people would rather have the godly lad in their employ, the young man who is loyal to his conscience and of genuine integrity of character, who will do his duty, "not with eye-service, but in singleness of heart, as unto the Lord," than any other kind. In brief, as the Apostle says, you will find that "Godliness is profitable for all things, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." Let me, then, in conclusion, charge you, my dear hearers, to consecrate to the Lord the first fruits of your days. "Remember," says our text, "thy Creator in the days of thy youth." What though frivolous men and thoughtless women ridicule your devotion, and scoff at your churchgoing and professions! What though some shallow-minded companions charge you with fanaticism or singularity, hypocrisy or pride! The day is fast coming when they will be compelled to justify your conduct, to confess that you have chosen the better part, and to mourn that they neglected to seek the Savior in the morning of their existence. And to those among you who have feared the Lord from your youth, and are now glorifying your Redeemer in the maturity of life, I would say: "Go on, earnestly pursue the glorious course which you have begun; be not weary in your religious life, grow in grace as you advance in years, be illustrations and stimulating examples unto others, and thus spend your life usefully for God and man, before the evil days come and the years draw nigh, when you will say: "I have no pleasure in them," when eternity stands at the door, and you will face your Maker. God strengthen you in this determination for Christ's sake. Amen." SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. Marriage is honorable in all.--_Hebr. 13, 4._ "And God saw everything that He had made, and, behold, it was very good." These words of Holy Scripture immediately following the statement: "And God created man in His image, male and female created He them," contain the divine verdict regarding the social relation that we call matrimony or marriage. Declared the all-wise God: "It was very good." That, however, was in the holy and happy days of Paradise, in the midst of righteousness, purity, and bliss. Sin entered, and things changed; the image of the divine Maker was forfeited, that purity effaced, over that bliss was written in indelible letters: "Paradise Lost." What, then, became of the marriage relation? Was it, too, dissolved, forfeited, lost? Wonderful Providence! From that universal wreck,--of the few things which God permitted man to carry with him, remains, to insure him happiness and welfare in the midst of a world otherwise steeped in misery and tears, the marriage estate. It was not lost. The Gospel-lesson of to-day presents the Savior as being present at a marriage feast, and records that on that occasion He changed water into wine and manifested forth His glory. By His presence and by that miracle He also manifested forth, endorsed, sanctioned, and placed His divine approbation upon matrimony, as He once did amid the scenes of Eden's creation and loveliness. Nothing could be more significant than that, when the God-man came to found His kingdom upon earth, and entered upon His Messianic work, His first work should have been wrought in honor of the wedding tie. And so God's Word speaks of marriage throughout. When the Apostle desires a comparison to set forth the holy and pure relation between Christ and His Church, he knows none more sublime and noble than the union that exists between man and woman in wedlock, for which reason the Church is called Christ's bride--Christ is called her Bridegroom. To raise one's tongue or pen in impiety or censure against marriage is to raise them against heaven and Christ. To set up in its place the teaching and practice of celibacy, by which men and women are divested, in the name of religion, from the ties and duties of family; to turn away, or in any manner to advocate what may break down the proper relation between the sexes, is casting reproach upon God's institution, and a perversion of true religion, as it is of nature's laws. To speak depreciatingly, disparagingly of marriage, to arch the brow, to puck the lips up in a smile, when it is called "holy" matrimony, and in any way to entertain light and derogatory views concerning it and family life, is to get oneself into conflict with, and to invite the ill favor of, Him who has thrown a sacred hedge around the institution, when on Sinai's mountain, in His Ten Commandments, He commanded how we should regard this estate. "Marriage," says the Apostle in our text, "is honorable in all." There is nothing concerning it that is unworthy, unholy, hindersome to piety and salvation. The Son of God would not have graced with His presence and miracle those Galilean nuptials if it had not been holy throughout. Concerning the honorableness of that estate would I speak at this time a few words of plainness and truth. May He who is called the God of families bless them to our instruction! Among the views concerning matrimony, there is also this one, taught by men sitting in professors' chairs and senselessly repeated by the ungodly multitude, that, as man has evolved from a lower to a higher form of existence, so morality and also matrimony have only gradually, in the course of many centuries, yes, thousands of years, evolved to what it now is. Originally man knew as little of matrimony as the beasts of the field. Little by little, pride and self-interest induced especially strong men to take unto themselves, and keep with themselves, one or a few of the other sex, and so it eventually grew into a custom and rule that one man and one woman should form a union for life, and in evidence of that they will even point to the Bible, the instance of Abraham, who beside his wife, Sarah, had her maid, Hagar, and Jacob had two, really four wives, and David, Solomon, in fact, all the Jews among the Old Testament kings practiced polygamy,--it was only with the introduction of Christianity that monogamy, the union of one man and one woman, and the indissolubleness of the marriage-tie, became general rule. What folly of folly, contrary to all sacred and secular story! Without entering too explicitly upon this subject, do we not read in the chapters of Genesis that when Pharaoh of Egypt had cast his eyes upon Sarah, thinking she was Abraham's sister, that after he had been rightly informed, he at once desisted from his advances and made explanation? And did not Abimelech, when about to fall into a like error, offer apology and make restitution? Is it not plain from these cases that they well knew that the marriage relation was not to be broken, that one man was not to take another man's wife? Moreover, it never occurred to Abraham, or any of the patriarchs, to put away from themselves their wives, for any reasons, and these men lived nearly two thousand years before Christ. How absurd the contention that men originally lived without a knowledge of the sanctity of marriage! Turning to secular history, we have record of the same. Rome, for instance, was founded in the eighth century before Christ. Its first citizens were robbers, and such as had been banished for gross offenses from other cities of Italy. But concerning the marriage relation--they did not live as brutes. Every physically able inhabitant was legally required to wed, and for several centuries not a solitary case of divorce occurred. Such a thing was regarded simply impossible. It was not until late centuries, when effeminacy had taken hold upon the city, that we hear of those social abominations. The same may be said of our heathen forefathers, the German and Teutonic tribes; marriage, with them, was held in highest respect. This, then, is the true view according to Bible and history. God instituted marriage at creation, and God ordained that it should be a union between one man and one woman, and that this union is indissoluble and inseparable. As everything else, however, suffered by the fall of man into sin, so also this divine regulation. The corruption at the time of the flood was such that God destroyed the world on that very account. "They took them wives of all that they chose," is the sacred account. It is with regret that we read of men like Abraham, Jacob, David, who were not found strong enough to resist the common corruption, but were deplorably drawn into looseness of the marriage ties. How was it at the time of the Savior? The teaching of the synagogue was, that "whosoever shall put away his wife, let him give her a writing of divorcement." When it entered a man's mind to get rid of his wife, all he needed to do was to write upon a piece of parchment: "I divorce myself from my wife," have it signed by two or three witnesses, and the wife had to go; or if it occurred to a woman to sever herself from her husband, she demanded a writing of divorcement from him, and if he refused, life became miserable, or she would simply run away, as Herodias did from her husband, Philip, and married her husband's brother, Herod Antipas. And these occurrences were not done with blushing reserve, those guilty of it boasted of it. Beloved, are we not rapidly falling upon such times? The miserable revelations that come from our courts are veritable cesspools reeking with stench and bestial filth. As one eminent jurist has expressed it: "Broken marriages are as common as broken window-panes." Divorce, what is it practically, in effect, but enabling men and women to live in successive polygamy? Now, over against this and all like influences and evils that would break down the honor of marriage, our Lord clearly and emphatically laid down God's Law. Here it is: "They are no more twain, but one flesh." "What, therefore, God has joined together, let not man put asunder," and again, "Whosoever shall put away his wife and marry another, committeth adultery, and whosoever marrieth her that is put away committeth adultery." These words are as clear as language can be. Only one exception does Christ give to the rule, Matt. 5, 32: "Whosoever shall put away his wife, saving for the cause of fornication." Fornication means unfaithfulness to each other in the marriage relation. Illicit intercourse with another person, that is given as the exception, as a just cause for severance. As for other causes, the Bible recognizes not one. And even in cases of fornication it does not _demand_ a divorce. That, then, is the position of the Scripture and of our church. This is the practice of her clergy. Again, another particular that tends to the honorableness of the marriage state, as pointed out in the text, is the high purpose which it is intended to serve according to the will of God. The family life is the foundation of human society. Married life, without seeking to fulfill its first purpose, the perpetuating of the human race and the bringing up of one's offspring in the proper manner, is to undermine, frustrate, that foundation of the state. This leads me to refer to an evil which I hardly know how to speak of, which should be named in the blackest of evils,--I mean the willful intention and resolve to defeat the first of those purposes for which matrimony was instituted by God. It comes looming up on the view of this generation as a great, a growing, an almost national crime. The foundation of a home is the first thing intended in matrimony. But some deliberately resolve that there shall be no home, or at least that it shall be as narrow, as limited, as possible. Be it to avoid pain, be it to shrink the duty of the parent, be it to remain free to enjoy the world,--arts base and black, devices which in the Old Testament were punished by death, are used to carry out these ungodly and absurd resolves; ungodly, because it would not be possible more grossly to outrage God's law than in this way; absurd, because a marriage contracted with that understanding and intention is a contradiction, a misnomer, a fraud on society and on the Church. And so I say, as God's minister and in His name, as we who must speak fearlessly, that this act of deliberately preventing the formation of a home is a crime, and one which brings down curses from a God of justice, who knows and who rewards according to our deeds. "Marriage," be it noted, "is honorable in all"; it is a holy and pure estate, and holiness must prevail therein. And now let us regard the other part of our discourse: If marriage is a holy estate, then it must be entered honorably and must be continued honorably. Marriage ought to be entered honorably. There is something appalling in the thoughtlessness, the irresponsibility with which young people will contract marriage; there seems to be often no apparent sense of the gravity of the act, no reflection upon what is involved. A pleasant face, captivating demeanor, money, or position are not infrequently the flimsy threads that tie the conjugal knot. But how can any one who is a Christian enter upon that relation which, more than any other, affects the whole life, without consulting and seeking the blessing of the divine Author? Yet it is done, and alas! done only too often by those who ought to know better. Some contract acquaintanceship, keep company, and have an interchange of hearts, and never think of their God and Savior in connection with it. Religion, in fact, seems unwelcome and out of place to many at such a time, whilst one heart-felt prayer to Him in connection with such an acquaintance would in thousands of cases have prevented anguish of souls from which there is no refuge but the grave. In other words, whether you will be happy or unhappy in the marriage life depends largely upon the companion of your choice. Therefore, when choosing a life's companion, ask God for His counsel to give you the spouse of His choice; and when you marry, marry honorably. The contracting parties in to-day's Gospel-lesson were not a runaway couple, or Jesus would not have honored their wedding feast with His presence. Nor did they marry from sheer necessity to hide the results of sin. Their relatives and friends, and, if still living, their parents were there; they had asked for and received the honest and unqualified consent of the latter. It is not an idle service or the mere acknowledgment of a civil contract, but a proper and significant Christian act to have marriage solemnized by a religious ceremony, conducted by a minister of the church, and blessed in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. No Christian man or woman should ever think of contracting a marriage alliance at which a servant of God is not present to invoke the Savior's blessing. Marriage should be entered into reverently, discreetly, and in the fear of God. Nor can I in this connection refrain from calling attention to the good old church custom called in English "publishing the banns," the persons asking for the prayer of a Christian congregation upon their union. Thus, in the ways indicated, does a Christian enter upon marriage "honorably." And having entered upon it thus, it ought to be so continued. There is one thing that married couples ought ever to remember, this: that they are both sinners. If they bear that in mind, they will not look for imaginary perfections in their life's partner, and will, conscious of their own shortcomings, bear with the shortcomings of the other. And where there is this conviction that both are sinners, they will find their balance in the Savior of sinners. It is well enough to bring into married life an amiable disposition, the happy faculty of controlling one's temper, but, believe me, the best thing to bring along, the most effective safeguard against discord and estrangement, is the fear of the Lord, the mutual respect for God's law and authority. Temporary differences, quarrels even, may arise in that home, but cannot remain. The husband has been hard and unkind, but will be prompt to make amends. If the wife has been contrary, quarrelsome, or has in other ways angered her husband, the love of Christ will not let her rest, but to acknowledge and seek reconciliation. There is nothing like genuine religion to regulate the household, to take off the frictions of daily life, to educate us in self-denial, in bearing and forbearing with one another. Let us, then, keep before us the dignity of the estate, and conduct ourselves honorably therein, until God shall summon us from this earthly relation to the marriage feast of the Lamb on high. Amen. THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be a well of water springing up into everlasting life. The woman saith unto Him, Sir, give me this water.--_John 4, 14. 15._ Our blessed Lord, having provoked by His preaching and by His miracles the enmity of the Pharisees, they began to plot His destruction. To escape their persecutions, His hour having not yet come, He departed for Galilee, between which territory and Judea lay the province of Samaria, through which, accordingly, as the holy writer expresses it, He must needs go. The first place at which he stopped was Sychar, one of the cities of Samaria. In its vicinity was a well, called Jacob's well, in all probability because the patriarch Jacob had caused it to be dug. Arriving there about the sixth hour, or noon, fatigued with the toils of the day, He seated Himself, while His disciples went into the city to purchase food. He could easily have relieved His wants by a miracle, but His miracles He employed only for the relief of others. While thus resting and alone, there cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water. Our Lord at once resolved to benefit her. He was one who sowed by all waters, and with Him one hearer was enough to justify the finest sermon. He introduced Himself to her by asking a favor, the best way that could have been selected. It must be spoken to the credit of our poor humanity that a request for a favor is always regarded as allowable. There are men and women whom you would not dare speak to on the street, without expecting to be reproachfully treated, but whom you may with perfect confidence ask a small favor of, such as the time of day, a drink of water, or the like. Jesus saith to her: "Give me to drink." The woman is astonished, for she saw, by His features and His dress, that He was a Jew. Then saith the woman of Samaria unto Him: "How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria?" It was a very natural question. The Jews regarded contact with a Samaritan disreputable. Their touch was pollution; to spend the night at the house of one of them was to reproach a family for generations. A Jew would not speak to a Samaritan, much less ask a favor of one. But the mind of Jesus knew nothing of this narrow bigotry, this odious illiberality. His object was to benefit all, and He, therefore, freely conversed with all. His answer was: "If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water." The Savior, as you will have noted from your Bible reading, often seizes upon incidents and objects before the eyes of His hearers to shadow forth spiritual truths. Thus, when He had fed the multitude with bread, He spoke of Himself as "the bread which cometh from heaven and giveth eternal life." Being at Jerusalem at the Feast of Tabernacles, when the people in crowds drew water from the pool of Siloam, He cried with a loud voice: "If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink." So here He takes occasion to elevate this woman's thoughts from the earthly water to the heavenly. Still supposing, however, that Jesus referred to common water, she objects to Him: "Sir, Thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep; from whence, then, hast Thou this living water?" And to suppose that He could find better water elsewhere would imply that He was greater than Jacob, who esteemed this the best in all the territory, and so she adds: "Art Thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children and his cattle?" Jesus, pitying her ignorance, and bearing with her weakness, began more fully to explain the properties of that water of which He spoke. He said to her: "Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again, but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." The woman, still taking the words in a natural sense, was disposed to turn them into ridicule, and she begged the Savior by all means to give her some of that excellent water which would prevent her from ever thirsting again and would render it unnecessary for her to come so far and draw water. She says: "Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw." To check her impatience, Jesus shows that He was perfectly acquainted with her character. He bids her call her husband. The woman replied: "I have no husband." Then came the crushing exposure; Jesus said to her: "Thou hast well said, I have no husband; for thou hast had five husbands, and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband: in that saidst thou truly." She, at once convinced of Jesus' prophetic character, adroitly changes the subject. Said she: "Our fathers worshiped in this mountain, and ye say that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship." This was opening up an interesting topic. When the Jews returned after the Babylonian captivity, they went to rebuild the temple at Jerusalem. The Samaritans proposed to bear part of the expense, and to worship with them, as they accepted some of the Jewish laws and ceremonies. The Jews rejected their offer, and would have nothing to do with them. The Samaritans then built a temple of their own on Mount Gerizim. Hence, the woman wished to be informed by this prophet which was the right place, Mount Gerizim or Jerusalem. The reply of Jesus was full of instruction; with great stateliness and dignity He said: "Woman, believe me, the hour cometh when ye shall neither in this mountain nor yet at Jerusalem worship the Father. Ye worship ye know not what: we know what we worship; for salvation is of the Jews. But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth; for the Father seeketh such to worship. God is a Spirit; and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." The woman, hearing these instructions, without disputing with Jesus, but also without approving entirely of what He said, refers the entire decision of the question to the coming of the Messiah. "I know that Messiah cometh, which is called Christ; when He is come, He will tell us all things," to which Jesus replies: "I that speak unto thee am he." Here the disciples, returning from the city, interrupted the conversation. The woman went back to the city and told the people of the wonderful stranger. Full of curiosity, they came out to see Jesus, and prevailed on Him to stay two days with them, and "many," records the sacred writer, "of the Samaritans of that city believed on Him." There are a number of important lessons that we may profitably dwell upon from this interview between Christ and that woman of Samaria. We shall restrict ourselves to the most outstanding one. Our Lord teaches us here the nature of salvation; He compares it to water. It is noteworthy and most suggestive that whatever in the material world is most useful and highly valuable to man is also the most common and most abundant. Things which can, without serious loss and injury to any one, be dispensed with, or which serve merely or mainly to give pleasure, such as gold, diamonds, and jewels, exquisite foreign fruit, these alone are rare, the property of a few. But what all men need, and most largely ministers to their comfort and enjoyment,--the wholesome food, the pure, refreshing water, the air, and the light,--these are spread out in free, unstinted store before rich and poor, young and old, one and all.--But besides this material world there is another with which we have to do, an unseen spiritual world, in which our souls are living and breathing, and there the same law obtains. God has abundantly supplied us with what we need. Two-thirds of the earth's surface is covered with water. You find water all over and everywhere, in oceans, rivers, springs, wells, sufficient to supply all the wants of man. So, too, there is not a meager quantity, but an abundance of living water. If all the human beings who have ever lived upon this earth could come to this heavenly Fountain in a body, there would be water enough and to spare, and it is everywhere and for everybody. It is for Americans, for Europeans, for the inhabitants of Asia, Africa and the islands of the sea. There never will be a diminution of its vast and boundless supply. Nor will God permit any barrier to hedge it in. Like the water in your homes, salvation is being brought to your doors; it is gushing forth like a stream at your feet now, and it flows through the very aisles of this church, and filters into every pew. And like natural water, Christ's water of salvation possesses like qualities. To mention the particular He dwells upon in this text, Jesus answered and said to her, "Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." The soul has its desires, its yearnings, its appetites, as well as the body, and it is miserable until that thirst is satisfied. And how is this done? Certainly not by anything of man's provision. The various schools of man's wisdom, philosophy, have tried it, and we have their confession that they failed to find what they sought. The same may truly be said of this world's pleasures, possessions, and honors. These things, being earthly, leave the soul as thirsty as before, yea, even worse, like sailors in distress who drink the ocean's brine; it will but increase their thirst a hundredfold. "But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst." Christ's water, alone, is able to satisfy the thirst of the human soul.--The reason is very apparent. Man's happiness depends, first of all, upon a right relation to his God; as long as that is severed or strained, satisfaction and peace of heart are out of the question. And it is only He, that divine person, who sat upon Jacob's well, that has this supply of living water. We are made for God, and our hearts remain thirsty and restless until they find satisfaction and repose in Him. But, you will note, it says: "Whosoever drinketh of the water that I give him." Christ gives it, but there is something, accordingly, for the thirsty soul to do. Water cannot quench the thirst unless it is taken; not all the water in the river at the foot of our city can save a man that does not partake of it. Nor can Christ's water of life assuage the thirst of a soul that declines it. There must be personal appropriation, or it fails of the blessed effects. Not as if there is anything meritorious in that, any more than it is a merit for one to drink a glass of water to allay his physical thirst. And yet, it is only thus that one becomes partaker of it; and the only reason why so many fail of its blessed effects is,--they do not drink it. It is told of a ship that its supply of fresh water was exhausted. The passengers and crew on board were at the point of perishing. For several days they had lacked water, and were almost frenzied. At last a vessel was sighted in the distance. They raised their cry: "Give us water, water; we are dying for water!" The reply came back, "Let down your buckets! You are in the mouth of the Amazon! You have fresh water all around you." They had been floating three days in fresh water and knew it not. It is so spiritually. Ignorance is what keeps many from salvation. The churches, like vast reservoirs and pumping stations, are seeking to supply the masses with the knowledge of Christ and His Gospel. They are actually floating like these perishing souls in the midst of religion, and yet they dip not their buckets to fill. With some it is because they are too indifferent, and with others, because of sheer stupidity they care not to give such matters concern. It is positively surprising to see how many otherwise intelligent and wide-awake men and women will be found altogether destitute of the first things, the A B C of Christian teaching and principles. Ask them to select the real things of man's life, to tell you the true purpose of existence, touch on matters of eternity, soul and God, and they are as ignorant of those things as children of the value of currency, who will tear to pieces a five-dollar bill and cling to their five-cent picture-book, or who will at any time take in exchange for a ten-dollar gold piece a large, glittering ball of Christmas tinsel. They know not, and so they value not, and allow the treasures of heaven, the gift of God, as our Savior called it, the blessed water of life, to flow by undrunk and unimproved. To this first reason, ignorance, may be rightfully added another,--prejudice. There is a vast amount of that against Christ's religion. In fact, there is in every material heart a feeling of aversion against the whole thing, and, strange enough, those who might be expected to be most favorably inclined toward salvation, the outwardly good, honest, and honored, are, as a rule, set against it. Their self-sufficiency is in the way. Take the case before us. It was a most unpromising one, this woman. The reproof openly given by a stranger, a Jew at that, would have irritated many a one. Some would have replied by abusive language. Others would have denied the charge, especially as it did not appear probable that this unknown person could uphold them. But the Samaritan had different sentiments, and bears out the statement of our Lord that the publicans and sinners were nearer the kingdom of heaven than the Pharisees, who were so devout in their outward appearances. Some of the most unpromising characters prove the most promising, and those whom we should have regarded as giving Christ cordial welcome, the religionists of His time, were offended at Him. So to-day, there are numbers of those who regard themselves good enough or not worse than many others and these very church people, and so are never seen in a house of Christian worship, except to see some one married, or buried; who will read anything and everything, and who are ready to meet with you and talk with you on every topic except one, and that is religion. Prejudice, my beloved, prejudice, short-sighted, cruel, unreasonable. But, to conclude; to us, my dear hearers, as to this woman of Sychar, has the Savior come. He is sitting not only, as of old, on Jacob's well, He is sitting aside you in the pew, He is offering you the same water of life. Why not take and drink it? People will go far and spend much to drink of earthly springs for bodily invigoration and health. Here is the life-water, which alone can give health to the soul, and which springs up into eternal life. Oh! that some of its life-giving drops may fall upon your hearts in these moments to soften them into penitence and holy resolve: "Sir, give me of this water." I heard the voice of Jesus say, Behold, I freely give The living water; thirsty one, Stoop down, and drink and live. I came to Jesus and I drank Of that life-giving stream; My thirst was quenched, my soul revived, And now I live in Him. Amen. FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. And straightway Jesus constrained His disciples to get into a ship, and to go before Him unto the other side, while He sent the multitudes away. And when He had sent the multitudes away, He went up into a mountain apart to pray: and when the evening was come, He was there alone. But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves; for the wind was contrary. And in the fourth watch of the night, Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea. And when the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out in fear. But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.--_Matt. 14, 22-27._ Our blessed Lord was both, He was true God and He was true man. To-day's Gospel-lesson presents Him to us in the fishermen's boat, weary and sleeping on a pillow. There is humanity; for of God it says: "Behold, He shall neither slumber nor sleep." Again, the same story presents Him as commanding the winds and the waves. There is Godship; for of God alone can it be said: "Thou rulest the raging of the sea; when the waves thereof arise, Thou stillest them." And this remarkable contrast you will find running through all His earthly history. You enter the stable at Bethlehem. You see a babe slumbering on its mother's lap. You say, "This is Mary's child." Presently a company of shepherds enter, and tell what they heard and saw while keeping watch over their flocks by night. Scarcely have they finished their description, when wise men from the East appear, alleging that they have been guided thither by a star, and worshiping the Child with costly offerings. You stand on Jordan's bank and mingle with the thousands who have come to hear the word and submit to the Baptism of John. You behold one, Jesus of Nazareth, going down to be baptized, but you think little of it, for He differs, apparently, in nothing from those by whom He is surrounded. But as He comes up from the water, the heavens are opened, and the Spirit of God descends like a dove, and lights upon Him, while from the celestial heights comes a voice, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." You accompany Him to the grave of Lazarus, and you see the tears trickle down His cheeks, and you realize that He is a man; for neither Deity nor angels weep. But soon you behold Lazarus come forth from his sepulcher in answer to His word of power, and once more you ask in wonder verging on adoration: "What manner of man is this?" And so till you see Him on the cross, His back lacerated with the scourge, and His brow bleeding from the pressure of the crown of thorns. You hear the words, "It is finished," and see the pale cast of death settle on His countenance. But on the third day after, you meet Him in the upper room at evening, extending His hand in resurrection greeting: "Peace be unto you." Now, what shall we make of this wonderful dualism, as we may call it? There remains nothing for us to do but to accept that Christ was true God and true man. No other interpretation or explanation will do. Our church, in the standard Confession, in the Third Article of the Augsburg Confession, thus voices its belief, and to that we subscribe. We teach that God the Son became man and was born of the Virgin Mary; that the two natures, the human and the divine, inseparably united in one person, are one Christ, who is true God and man. So much as to the great doctrinal truth taught in the Scripture-reading of to-day. It contains also a very instructive and comforting practical truth. We shall regard as our topic:-- _The experience of Christ's disciples on the Sea of Galilee a picture of Christ's people on the sea of life_, noting, _I. their adversity_, _II. their security_. The poet has said that human life is Bits of gladness and of sorrow, Strangely crossed and interlaid; Bits of cloud belt and of rainbow, In deep alternation braid; Bits of storm when winds are warring, Bits of calm when blasts are stay'd, Bits of silence and of uproar, Bits of sunlight and of shade. And it's more than poetic fancy; it is stern reality. Like that Sea of Galilee, the sea of life is sometimes calm and sometimes stormy, sometimes reposing under the soft smiles of a sunshiny sky, and sometimes ruffled and whipped by the restless gales. Wearied from the toils and turmoils of the day, our Lord constrains His disciples to get into a ship, and to go before Him to the other side, while He sent the multitude away. When He had done this, He retired. Whither? Into a neighboring mountain. For what? To pray. He wished to be alone; His heart yearned for communication with His Father; He also needed strength and preparation for the work and conflicts of the morrow. How could He secure it? By prayer. How suggestive and instructive for us. Our Lord needed thus to strengthen and prepare Himself for life's difficulties and battles. Let us learn a lesson from Him,--discover where the secret of our power lies. But while thus engaged, His disciples were in danger upon the sea. A fearful storm, one of those sudden, violent squalls, peculiar to the Sea of Galilee, had arisen, and was lashing the sea with violent fury. Try as they might, and they were accustomed to the sails and oars, they were perfectly helpless, and the greatest misfortune was that the Master was not with them. Had He been there, even though asleep, they might have roused and brought Him to their rescue. But, alas! He was far away. Consternation and despair seized hold upon them, when, at a sudden, they discern in the distance the form of a man walking on the foaming crests of the waters. What? Could it be He? Indeed, there He was, and He speaks to them. No sooner did He set His foot on the ship than the tossing waters sank down to their quiet bed. There was a great calm. Beloved, these stories of the Bible have not been written for entertainment, but as the Apostle declares: "Whatever was written aforetime was written for our learning, that we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope." Life has its times of prosperities, and it has its times when the wind is contrary and wave dashes fast upon wave. The occasion of this storm may be various. Sometimes it is the matter of livelihood. Circumstances over which we have no control overwhelm us, embarrass us. Try as hard as we may, like these disciples, who made only thirty furlongs, we can make no headway; yes, in spite of our willingness and energy, we go backward; reverses set in, loss is ours. We are mightily tossed by the waves, and the clouds look dreadfully frowning and dark. Sometimes it is bodily ailment; suffering of one sort or another comes over us like a destructive wave; we are called to battle with disease, the probabilities and improbabilities of ever becoming strong again,--it is bitter experience. Or it may be the wave of bereavement. Like this little fisherman's craft, we are carried down into the depths of heart-rending sorrow; our eyes are wet with tears; before us closes the grave upon one whom we would have given the whole world to retain. Contrary winds! Dashing billows! Rolling, tossing sea! And imagine not that by believing the Gospel, your being a Christian, will make you exempt from these storms. We are sometimes told: Do what is right, and you will not suffer. It sounds very plausible, but it is not true,--very unfrequently otherwise. Why was Joseph cast into prison? He did that which was right. Why were the martyrs put to death? These disciples in the path of duty when the storm came upon them were doing what had been commanded by the Lord. You may not infrequently be exposed to fierce blasts by being a Christian consistent, consecrated in life and duties. It matters not what your profession or portion in life may be, whether you are a Christian or not, godly or ungodly, rich or poor, famous or obscure, the storms of life will certainly, with more or less violence, overtake you. There is no exemption, no escape from them. Now, what shall we think, what say, to sustain ourselves amid experiences like that? It may be well enough to note the experience of those disciples yonder on the Sea of Galilee. "And when the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out for fear." What could it be, that moving form? A man? No, impossible! How could a man tread upon the waters? Then it must be a ghost, an apparition, a grim visitor from the other worlds. And as this idea forced itself upon them, they could not refrain from crying out with terror. Thus, my dear hearers, God's people are sometimes perplexed, when scenes of distress appear, and bereavement, humiliation, and sorrow appear upon life's sea. They are sometimes disposed to cry out with terror, "What can it mean?"--these dark and threatening forms. Surely, a loving and beneficent God would not alarm His children, and add still greater anxiety and anguish to their already fierce battling with the waves and the elements. My beloved, that is just what God does, and wisdom on our part, our sustaining strength, and the comfort consists in this, that we recognize that form, nor, mistaking it, cry out in terror. That storm on the Galilean Sea was not an accident, it did not come by chance, it was sent by and with the permission of the Governor of the winds and the waves; and when the billows were rolling fiercest and fastest, His hand was there guiding and controlling. None less so with the streams of life. These are not accidental, but intentional. They do not come by chance, but are sent by, and with the permission of, the Governor of the universe, and when the billows are rolling fast, His hand is guiding and controlling our afflictions. Perplexing as they may be, they are part of God's grand and sovereign system of dealing with us. It is He, His Providence, His divine appointment and arrangement, not some strange, unmerciful power, which people call Fate, Chance, Nature, but the divine form of our blessed Savior. That is the first thing we must bear in mind amid life's storms. "But straightway Jesus spoke unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid." Human lips cannot describe the effect which these words uttered by that familiar voice must have had upon them. In a moment the whole truth flashed upon their minds,--the apparition so much dreaded was no other than He whom, above all others, they longed to see. There is a common expression in English, which speaks of "blessings in disguise." Such are all of life's untoward happenings to a Christian--"blessings in disguise." That Galilean experience in the night and storm gave to these disciples enlarged ideas of the Master and His power, it developed their faith and trust in Him. Not for all the toil and terrors would they have foregone it. They never forgot it. Beloved, the time will come when you will look back upon that experience that wrenched your soul, that household cross that proved so heavy, that disheartening reverse that caused a big black mark to be drawn through your life's prospects and plans, those hours of dread and darkness, as the very occasions of your highest blessings, the making of yourselves. The "evils of life"--speak not thus--are blessings in disguise. "Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee, e'en though it be a cross that raiseth me." Have you ever seen anything but a cross raise men? The smiles of prosperity, the sunshiny sky, the even waves of the sea of life are not the means calculated to raise a soul nearer to God; that takes the buffetings, the storms, and the rising billows (blessings in disguise), sent by a wise God in loving purpose. And one more. When the disciples recognized and realized that it was their Master, their fear vanished. Let the winds blow, the ship toss, and the waves run high, they felt secure,--He was with them. It is a simple thought, yet it constitutes the whole of religion, the essence of faith, our comfort in life, our hope in death, our all in all, this one thought: He is with us, Jesus, the Master. I am thinking this moment of a man,--his eyesight impaired, sickness upon his body, his head bending low with age, striving hard to live, afraid to die. The religion of Christ was never his, and he desires none of it now. A more melancholy lot never was man's as he is tossed about with many a conflict and many a doubt, fightings and fears within, without, dissatisfied, unhappy. I am thinking of another,--his eyes have not seen the light of day for eight years; his once powerful frame is now as delicate as a child's, his hair is gray from much weariness and pain; but none was ever more cheerful, submissive, hopeful, and happy. The difference? The one has recognized the divine form walking on the surging billows, and has taken Him into his life's boat; the other has not, and will not do so. With the one it is a "great calm," stillness, joy. With the other, tumult, danger, and despair. That is the difference,--_what_ a difference! So, whether it be sickness, or that the world goes against us, or that we are straitened in our means of living, or experiencing the loss of the dearest and nearest; not _from_ them has Christ and Christianity promised to save us, but _in_ them, trusting in Him, it has promised, and that we shall feel safe. And that is the one great practical lesson of the day's texts, that is why they are recorded in the Bible, that we may have this faith, this comfort and hope. Then in the day of trouble we shall think of something more than the mere earthly and temporal look of the trouble; we should all think of God in it, of God guiding it, and of His sheltering and sustaining hand in it. Then when we are sick, our thoughts would not be so taken up with the mere pains and annoyances we suffer, the probabilities or the improbabilities of our getting back to health and strength again; but whether we get better or not, the remembrance of the Hand of our Savior in it will make us feel easy, submissive, and patient under it, as no other strength can. And so with all other trouble. Amid the waves of the sea of life, which is seldom calm, and often swells into mountainous billows, let us heed the voice of the Savior, "Be of good cheer, it is I." Let us toil on. No contrary wind can last forever. After a time we shall reach the other shore, and when we touch that, we shall be done with these storms. Then will there be a great calm. Amen. FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. The kingdom of heaven is like unto a net that was cast into the sea, and gathered of every kind: which, when it was full, they drew to the shore, and sat down, and gathered the good into vessels, but cast the bad away.--_Matt. 13, 47. 48._ A number of our Lord's discourses were addressed to those who were engaged in agriculture. To such were uttered the parables of the sower, of the wicked husbandmen, of the mustard seed, and to-day's Gospel of the wheat and tares. Others of these discourses were spoken more immediately to His own disciples, the most of whom had been fishermen on the Lake of Galilee, and to them mightily appealed an illustration like that which we are about to consider. They had often experienced what our Lord so simply describes. They had gone forth in their boats to fish, and after they had drawn their nets to shore, they had made an examination of what they contained, and out of the meshes they had gathered the good into vessels, for sale or for use, and that which was worthless they had thrown away. A very simple figure setting forth a very affecting and awakening truth. May the Holy Ghost solemnize our minds and write some abiding impressions on all our hearts! The subject divides itself into two parts. It shows us, _I. The present mixed character of the churches_; _II. the future separation_. The Kingdom of Heaven, that is, the Church, is likened by our Lord to a net cast into the sea. The net spoken of is not the ordinary casting-net, but a seine, or hauling-net, which was sometimes half a mile in length, leaded below that it might drag the bottom of the sea, and kept above the water with large corks. A net of such dimensions will naturally enclose fish of all sizes and kinds, some bad and others good, some valuable and others worthless, some in the best condition, others out of season, dead, or putrid, and unfit for human food. And so it is with the net of the Gospel. It is a large, capacious draw-net; it is not merely let down into one stream or river, but it sweeps the ocean, the wide and open sea of the world, and its threads are so strong, so well knitted together that scarcely a single fish can escape. In other words, we have here a picture of the all-embracing Church of Christ, the preaching of the Gospel to every nation. But as the divine fishermen, the ministers of Christ, cast their net into this universal sea and enclose an abundance of human fishes, not all are of the same quality; it's a mixed and motley multitude. "In the visible Church there is a deal of trash and rubbish, refuse, and vermin, as well as fish," says an old commentator. In this our own blessed country, where the Gospel is preached in nearly 2,000,000 sermons every year, and where churches and chapels rear their spires on the right hand and on the left, there are many professed Christians, and those who belong to the visible Church, but they are not alike. They were baptized in infancy, and many of them renewed their solemn covenant at God's altar in Confirmation. But there their religion ends. They never seek God's face in private prayer. They profane and desecrate God's holy day. They neglect God's sanctuary. They never read God's Word. They are daily supported by God's bounty, but they cherish no more gratitude to the Author of all their blessings than if they were sticks or stones. What are such baptized Christians in reality but vile refuse in the net. Others, again, are not so pronounced in their conduct; they do observe to some extent the proprieties of a religious life; they are seen now and then inside of God's house, and have their names enrolled upon the communicant or membership list of some church, send their children to Sunday-school, and withhold not at times a charitable hand. But, then, that is the whole of their religion. They do not believe in always running to church, in being so awfully sanctimonious; a person can be a Christian, read his Bible, and pray at home just as well.--That's the type of many. It is the form without the power. The virgin's lamp of profession is there, the oil of God's Spirit is not there, or very, very low. And, in addition to these various classes, there is a "remnant," as the Apostle calls it, in many places a very small remnant, "according to the election of grace." These are they, and some such are now hearing me who have received the truth for the love of it, and who have embraced the Gospel as it has embraced them. They belong not to them that are "good enough," and "if God accepts any one, He cannot pass them by," but being convinced by the Holy Ghost that they are poor, soul-sick sinners, they seek Christ's blood as their only remedy and Christ's righteousness as their only ground of acceptance, and flee to Christ's cross as their only hope, and seek to adorn this doctrine by a consistent and holy life and a diligent and conscientious attendance upon the Word and Sacraments. These, my beloved, are some of the various classes of the mixed and motley multitude that are now being gathered into the net, the outward church, and yet it is sheer impossibility to distinguish between them. They are so closely mixed together; people may live in the same houses, walk together the same street, sit side by side in the same pew, listen to the same preacher, kneel at the same sacramental altar, and at last lie down, amid sacred ceremony, in the same burial plot, and yet may be inwardly utterly dissimilar, the one from the other, the one genuine, the other spurious; the one be finally saved, the other ultimately lost.--This is something which we cannot determine, which our natural, material eye cannot discern. But that is the teaching of our text,--there will come a time when this will be made manifest. As in the drag-net, first of every sort are gathered together in the same enclosure only for a little while, till the nets are drawn in to the shore, so in the spiritual net, the outward Church of Christ on earth, the opposite descriptions of mankind are equally enclosed, but only for a season, a brief season; they will presently be divided. Says our parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like unto a net that was cast into the sea, and gathered of every kind; which, when it was full, they drew to the shore, and sat down, and gathered the good into vessels, but cast the bad away." When the net shall be full, when the last saved of the number of God's elect shall be gathered in, the examination will be made, and the separation will take place. There is a time set in God's everlasting purposes,--we know not when, indeed, that time will be according to the measurement of our years, but we know that it will be when the Gospel shall have fulfilled that which it has been sent for; for, according to the Master-Fisher, it must not return void and empty, but full. And so the net is now filling, faster at some times than at others, all along continuing to be filled until it will be drawn to shore, the shore of eternity; and then will the dividing process take place. From this parable, and from the corresponding one of the wheat and the tares, we see what a mistake we make if we expect to find anywhere a perfect Church upon earth. To expect the Church to be a community of perfect saints is to expect more than its divine Founder ever expected, according to the words of His own parables. There was a Balaam among the prophets of God, and Achan in the camp of Israel, a Judas numbered with the twelve apostles, an Ananias and Sapphira connected with the first little flock in Jerusalem. In the Corinthian, Galatian, and Ephesian Churches, planted and superintended by St. Paul, there arose bad ministers and disreputable private Christians. No wonder, then, that in our church and charges there should be found reprehensible and undesirable material, and no preaching, however powerful and faithful, no discipline, however strict and prudent, no watchfulness, however careful and ready, can ever make it otherwise. Even to the end of the world the goats will mingle with the sheep, the tares grow up with the wheat, whilst the nets are being filled, the bad fish will be gathered with the good. Perfection is not to be found this side of heaven. The second error pointed out by this part of our subject is this, that we must not seek, by force or persecution, to get rid of what _we_ may call putrid or unprofitable fish. Church discipline is, indeed, enjoined in the Scripture in regard to doctrine and in regard to practice. When Paul writes to Titus: "Rebuke them sharply, that they may be sound in the faith," and advises the Corinthians concerning the man guilty of incest, "Put away from among yourselves that wicked person,"--when a person has become manifest as an outspoken disbeliever or as an open transgressor of God's Law, flagrant in his morals, then it becomes incumbent upon a congregation to admonish, to discipline, for the saving of his soul, that person. Church discipline is not intended to cast away, but to bring back to proper belief and proper conduct, to save a person's soul, to keep him in the net, by removing his error and inducing him to live a decent life. However, if such a one obstinately persists in his wickedness, then it commends itself to every one that he can no longer be admitted to fellowship. But it is not this quality of fish that our parable speaks about. In fact, such, to make it plainer, are no fish at all; they are vermin, lizards, or whatever species of reptile you wish to name them. A man that is outspoken in unbelief and profligate in his morals is not within the Gospel net. Christ in this parable is speaking of such people as wished to be recognized as Christians, confess themselves as spiritual and converted children of the Kingdom, and as long as they do that, we may have our serious doubts as to their sincerity; we may, as we see their faults and obliqueness of conduct, consider their Christianity of a rather dubious specimen or type--hypocritical is the common term. But it's not for us to read them out of the membership of the saints, much less dare the Church deny them access to the house of God, or resort to external force, police or military measures to enforce her teachings and persecute those who differ from her. Has that ever been done, you question? My dear hearers, the robes of the professing Church are red with the blood of saints, because it has failed to heed the parables of our consideration to-day. We think of a John Huss, a forerunner of the Reformation, taken to the stake at Constance, burned as an arch-heretic; of the Albigenses and Waldenses, persecuted, slaughtered by the so-called holy Christian Church, banished for no other cause but adherence to their Bibles. We call to our remembrance the scenes of the Inquisition, the horrible treatments and tortures, when Rome undertook to separate the bad from the good, and destroyed thousands of Christians better than herself, 18,000 in the Netherlands, 60,000 in France. We can still hear the bells tolling on that fatal day, August 24, 1572, called St. Bartholomew's Day, when the signal for a massacre was given that cost 30,000 Huguenots their lives in the streets of Paris. Time fails us to speak of England and Germany with their gruesome thirty years of religious war, of the countries where fanaticism, armed with the sword, wished to root out what it thought was tares, and cast away the bad fish; and let us mark that the Pope resides not only in Rome, but there are a multitude of little popes everywhere, judging and pronouncing on one another, with all the stringency and self-confidence of their colossal type in Rome, their anathemas, and who would, if they could, quickly and radically empty the net. But, says the Savior, let them be gathered together until the day of separation. And by whom, to continue the parable, will the separation be made? Not by the fishermen, the ministers; for they are liable to make great and fatal mistakes. Ministers cannot see people's hearts. They may often think, "These are God's elect," when God says, "I know them not," and the reverse. No, my brethren, ministers will be sifted like the rest, themselves be classed either with the wicked or the just, and, strange as it may sound, those who have cast the nets, may themselves be cast away. God will, therefore, according to the parable, employ brighter agents for this important work. "The angels," it says, "shall come forth and sever the wicked from among the just." The same is told in the parable of the tares. "The reapers are the angels"; and they will do their work with perfect accuracy. They will make no mistakes. The angel that passed over the houses in Egypt committed no error. Every house on whose door-posts was the blood he spared, while in every house where the blood was not seen he left a first-born dead. So, in the separation on the final day, these celestial reapers will see at a glance who have been justified by the Lord and sanctified by the Spirit, and who have not. Not one will escape their discerning eye. Oh! what a separation that will be. There will be no haste, no precipitation; all will be calm and judicial. The angels will "sit down," as the term is, to denote the calm inquiry and the patient investigation of each member of the visible Church; and the good they will then gather into vessels, into the mansions above; but the bad will they cast away into a furnace of fire, where there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Methinks that these concluding words of our Lord are the most terrible that can be anywhere found, and yet, withal, they are the words of a loving Savior, graciously telling us beforehand what the result of the final separation will be. Well may we heed for our instruction the solemn appeal: "Who hath ears to hear, let him hear." There only remains now for me, to rivet these lessons upon your minds, two further remarks: First, be not offended; secondly, be not deceived. Too often do we hear the remark, "There are too many hypocrites in the Church, I don't care to associate with such people." You are right, my dear friend; but such a clear-sighted person as you are will certainly not judge a Christian Church by the faulty character of some of its members. Have you remained unmarried because some people have proved failures in marriage? Or do you keep your children from being educated because some educated people are great rascals? Is this the fault of marriage or education? And will you contend that the Word of God and the water of Holy Baptism make those who hear and receive it hypocrites and spiritual counterfeits? What hollowness of reasoning! You would not spurn the gold because it is embedded in quartz, or discard the diamond because it lies buried in sand, or refuse the daylight because there is a spot on the sun. You know too well that a cause must be judged by its principles, its teachings, and not by the faults and failures of its adherents. And so when the question arises as to your connection with the Church of Christ, it is for you to consider the principles and doctrine of that, and act accordingly. Again, be not deceived. We are all of us, in a sense, in the net; and in the net are to be found of every kind, good and bad. Which are we? Christ tells us that _many_--not a few--many at the last day, will cry to Him, saying, "Lord, we have heard Thy ministers preach, and by them Thou hast taught us in our churches;" but He will say: "Depart from me; I never knew you." Do you, then, belong among the good? _i. e._, those who have their souls appareled in the garments of Christ's goodness? In other words, are you a sincere and simple believer in Christ Jesus? Then shall you be cast into the vessels. May God grant us a favorable judgment when the drag-net of the Gospel is drawn to the everlasting shore! Amen. SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. Is thine eye evil because I am good?--_Matt. 20, 15._ Such was the question put by the householder, in the parable, to the laborers that murmured against him. He had gone forth early in the morning to hire men for his vineyard. He discovers that those engaged at first were not enough, so he continues to go forth at different times during the day to the market-place to employ others. With those first hired he had made a stipulated contract, fixing the wages at so much; with those later hired no such fixed agreement was made, but merely the general promise given that he would pay them whatever was fair and just. In the evening, when the work was over, and the steward ready to pay off the men, he directed to give them all one and the same coin; each was to receive a penny, the value of which, considering all things, was about $1.50 in our present-day currency, a common laborer's wage. Whereupon, relates the parable, those who had been in the vineyard all the day thought themselves hardly, unjustly treated. They said, "These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast made them equal with us which have borne the burden of the day." "So I have," said the master of the vineyard to one of those murmurers; I have paid you alike, but have you not received your just due, the sum you agreed for? "Take that thine is, and go thy way. Have I not the right to do as I like with my own money?" And so, if I choose to remunerate these men after the manner that I have, what hurt or worry is that to thee? "Is thine eye evil because I am good?" Let us regard for our study and profit this morning this one particular, "the evil eye," noting _I. its nature_, _II. its cure_. And may God bless His Word! What, to begin with, is meant by an "evil eye"? It may in different places of the Bible mean different things. What is meant in the text is clear enough. The evil eye here is such an eye as the laborers in the vineyard had when they looked askance at their neighbor's good fortune. An evil eye, therefore, is a grudging, an envious eye. To say of any one in this sense that he has an evil eye, is the same as saying that he is of a grudging, an envious turn of mind. Now, this particular turn of mind is far more common than it ought to be. The divine Householder still has occasion to ask, "Is thine eye evil?" It is a spirit very general, in truth, it is the moral epidemic of the world, it is found everywhere, and more or less in everybody, yourself, my dear hearers, myself not excepted. We open our Bibles, and we read of Ahab, King of Israel, dwelling in the midst of affluence and of plenty, yet he goes to his royal palace, heavy and displeased, and lays himself down on his bed and will not eat,--why? His evil eye grudged a poor vineyard which Naboth would not surrender. Haman was the favorite of King Ahasuerus, the mighty ruler of Babylon. All the princes of Persia pay him respect and riches are his; the evil eye has stung his heart, and he says, "All this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai, the Jew, sitting at the king's gate, who will not bow to me." Nor is it confined to the rich, this grudging cast of mind. Coming down the ladder of life, who were the people that murmured against the owner of the vineyard? Were they not common laborers, who had been hired to work for the day, day laborers? And the disease is prevalent among them yet to-day. The disposition to grumble and tease themselves into dissatisfaction and discontent over the good estate of their more favored and fortunate fellow-men, is not this the fundamental heresy of Socialism, the evil eye? Again, coming from the various classes of men to the different spheres of life, in the private and social sphere, what mean those jealousies and rivalries that are ever dividing a neighbor from a neighbor, friend from friend, relatives from relatives? Because the one possesses more of this world's money or goods, because one is more attractive and amiable in person, has greater intellectual endowments, is more popular, eloquent, skilled, holds a position superior, he becomes the occasion for a brother or a sister or a neighbor to envy him, and the butt of all sorts of petty and annoying uncharitableness on the part of relatives. Example: Because he was beloved by his father and had dreamed a dream which showed him superior to them, Joseph was hated by his brothers, and they could not speak peaceably to him. No, let us beware of flattering ourselves that this malignant eye is not in the Church. The vineyard of the parable symbolizes the Church. The minister of the Gospel who looks askance with green-eyed jealousy at another whose efforts are crowned with greater success than his own; the Sunday-school teacher who throws up the work in wounded self-love because some one else occupies the place and prestige he or she covets; the over-sensitive member who smarts under the feeling that his or her talents are not sufficiently recognized, their efforts duly respected and flattered, and so withdraws altogether from every kind of cooperation and enterprise, may all look into, and carefully examine, their spiritual eyesight in the light of this text. And having regarded the prevalency of the evil eye, what shall we say to it? It is something foolish. It shows a want of thought. People are envied for their superiority in fortune and estate, but the distinction between the gifts of God to man are not so wide as you may think. The rich man has his park, the poor man can look at it and enjoy it without the expense of maintaining it. Some people live in a stately mansion, but they have to pay very heavily for the privilege. The rich man has his valuable picture gallery; but to see the sun rise in the morning and set in golden splendor in the evening is a picture such as no human artist can paint. The poor man possesses not, it is true, some of the conveniences and delights of the better favored, but, in return, he is free from the many embarrassments to which they are subject. By the simplicity and uniformity of his life he is delivered from a variety of cares. His plain meal eaten with relish and appetite is more delicious than the luxurious banquet. You are acquainted with the story that tells of the king who invited a dissatisfied subject of his realm to visit him in his palace. He put a rich spread before him in his banquet hall, and asked him to indulge heartily. But the man instantly turned pale, and his appetite was gone, as, accidentally looking up, he beheld a sharp sword suspended by a tiny thread over his head. Then why envy the man whom God has gifted with talents of mind and tongue? Greater gifts entail greater responsibilities, toil, study, and more arduous duties. Foolish! Moreover, what does all this envy of a fellow-man's better fortune avail? For me to pine over my neighbor's better fortune, for me to covet his superior talents of mind or beauty of person, will not make me more attractive and talented. What folly, then, because you are not so fortunate as another to make yourself miserable over it! "Envy," says a certain writer, "is the source of endless vexation, an instrument of self-torture, a rottenness in the bones, a burning, festering ulcer of the soul." But the evil eye is not only foolish, it is more, it is positively sinful, and to indulge in such a spirit leads into all sorts of misery and woe. Because she was envious, Mother Eve stretched out her hand, and, eating, brought a blight on Paradise and a curse over God's creation. Because envy filled his heart, the first child born into this world rose up and slew his innocent brother. Because of envy Joseph was cast into the pit by his brothers. Why was David persecuted by King Saul? Why did Ahab shed the blood of Naboth? Why did the high priests, the scribes and Pharisees seek the death of the Holiest and Best that ever trod this earth, and did not rest till they fastened their eyes upon His agonizing form on the cross? What was it? Envy. It has ever been the mother of every evil work and vice. And its workings are to-day no different than then. In how many thousand ugly shapes does it show itself! Now, this is the most important part, how may it be overcome? What is the remedy, or the remedies, that might be suggested? The laborers had been called into the vineyard, the householder was under no obligation to hire them; that he did so was by his own free choice. In a much higher sense, the heavenly Householder has placed us into this world. He has given us certain things, certain talents; some of us have received more, some less, but all that all of us have in body, mind, and estate we have from Him. "What hast thou that thou hast not received?" "By the grace of God I am what I am." Whatever we have we have from God. Seeing this, and that all alike are but the recipients of God's gifts, for me to be envious of another, whom God has given more, argues dissatisfaction, discontent with God's will and ways. God well knows how to distribute His gifts, and why He distributes them as He does; and so let no one of us arraign His providence. You have and receive just what is fair, and just that you should receive, and so learn to be content with that. "Take that thine is, and go thy way." That would I suggest as the first remedy against envy,--contentment, a sense of the conviction that what we have is given us all by grace, God's kind favor, and that He gives us just what is proper and right. The second remedy is this, that we bear in mind that envy is the spirit of the devil. Heaven and heavenly creatures are never envious; hell and its occupants are aflame with it. Envy is against the Fifth Commandment, which reads: "Thou shalt not kill," a disposition of the heart that lusteth unto murder. St. Paul classifies it among the works of the flesh, putting it in such company as adultery, fornication, idolatry, murder, drunkenness, and the like, and over and against such things and associations a Christian's mind and conduct is plain. We must fight it and avoid it. Not the evil spirit, but the Spirit, the Holy Spirit, is to rule in our hearts, and Christ's Spirit is a Spirit of love, not the evil eye, but the good eye, the eye that wishes good and rejoices in the good of his neighbor. Since we cannot have both an evil and a good eye, it is for us to consult the heavenly Oculist. Let us pray God to help us against this murderous spirit; it is a work of the flesh; in a word, ask Him for the "good eye," and use it. That is, cultivate the spirit of rejoicing over the good fortune and success of another, giving due recognition to his talents and his endeavors, thanking God that, if one cannot himself do it so well, there is another whom He has given the means and ability to serve Him. Remedy second, then: root it out with God's help. He can do that, and He will do that, if we ask Him. And to come back to the parable, it is only the workman who puts aside the evil eye that is acceptable in the Lord's vineyard and does His work well. The person that is always bent on his own honor, dignity, and self-consciousness is easily offended, and easily draws back. The superiority or success of another unnerves him, and not infrequently he acts like a balking horse. Not so the person who has been with the Divine Oculist, and has received in the place of the evil the good eye. He is willing to pluck grapes in a corner of the Lord's vineyard where they are not so plentiful and luscious. What if there was a St. Paul and an Augustine and a Luther and a Walther, and if to-day we have men in the ministry who quite overshadow me? Shall I for that reason keep my hands from filling grapes into my church basket? Nevermore. Should you, because you are no church officer or esteemed pillar in the sanctuary? Even if you cannot pluck some grapes, you may at least hold the basket. The Church has a place for everybody; five times did the householder go out to hire laborers. It has a place for you; but when you come, leave behind you the evil eye. For that the Church has no place. Let every one think seriously over the text, examine his eyesight, ask God's forgiveness, for Christ's sake, for the sins he has committed in this respect, and help with His divine help to overcome it, so that he may be found an approved laborer in God's vineyard. Amen. SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY. Search the Scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me.--_John 5, 39._ This year marks an event of more than passing interest to the English-speaking world, _viz._, the tercentenary or 300th birthday of the translation of the Bible. It was in 1611, early in the summer, when, after seven years of the most painstaking labors, the most scholarly men of that time completed and turned over for publication their manuscripts. It was styled the King James Version or Translation, because it was with the help and patronage of that monarch of England, King James, that it was issued; and so as the Germans speak of Dr. Luther's Bible translation, the English speak of King James' Version. It is this translation of God's Word that lies before us, for though in the past three centuries there have been more than a score of worthy revisions, none has dislodged this from its place of supremacy, and so it is fitting that grateful mention should be made of the glorious work, the blessings of which continue to flow out to us whenever we open the holy pages. It must be remembered that the Bible, prior to these translations, was a sealed book. One seal was the tyrannical policy of the Church of Rome, that forbade the people to read it for themselves. Chained to the altar of some cathedral or to the wall of some library, like that which Luther discovered in the University at Erfurt, it was securely clasped and locked. The only persons who had anything to do with it were the monks, who in their dark and obscure cells would spend their days mechanically copying the sacred parchments. It was in this respect, indeed, a sealed book. Another seal were the languages in which it was written, so that, even if the people had possessed a copy, they would for that reason have been unable to read it; Hebrew, Greek, and Latin were things they could not understand and read. And to this might be added another seal, _viz._, that the Church of Rome had well seen to it that the majority of the people could not read at all. Ignorance among the masses was profound. Now, thank God, no such seals exist. There is no prohibition of Bible reading in this land. There are to-day more Bibles than ever; it is the very best seller of all books, and no one dares forbid us to read God's Word as freely as we please. We also have the Scriptures in our own tongue, and never has there been a time in the world's history when people were as universally able to read. And yet, glorious as this all is, is it not true that the Bible is a book that is shut and sealed? Which is that seal? That seal, my dear hearers, is one of the people's own making, one that they themselves place upon it,--it is a lack of genuine study of it. They do not go and search the Scriptures that they may learn the wonderful things it has to teach them. If, then, I shall succeed in a measure to break that seal, and to stimulate you to Bible study, I shall consider that God has blessed the humble effort of His servant. We shall regard this morning: _I. Why you should read your Bibles._ _II. How you should read them._ Why you should read them. Because God says so. "Search the Scriptures," is His plain and authoritative command. We are well enough acquainted with the arguments of Rome that would tell us it is a great mistake to let every layman read the Bible. See what confusion it has caused. Whence came all these hundred and one different sects, these endless conflicting opinions, this skepticism among you Protestants? Is it not because you permit every one, without distinction and discrimination, to read the Bible? To which we answer: By no means. That is not the fault of the Bible. That some have wrested the Scripture to their own harm, misused it, does not do away with its proper use. God has beautifully made this world, and it is full of His blessing; that some, in selfishness and sinfulness, abuse it, is not His fault nor that of His gifts. He has given man His only-begotten Son for their salvation; the fact that hundred thousands do not accept and believe in Him is not God's fault, nor His Son's, nor His Gospel's, nor His Church's fault. Just as destitute of all sound reason it is to place the abuses which some have made with the Bible to the Bible itself. No, clearly, distinctly, positively rings out God's command: "Search the Scriptures." He bids us do it. He points to each and every one of us, as if to say, "Thou do it." Does it not lie in the very nature of the Book? For whom did He cause it to be written? For the clergy, that the ministers might have some texts to preach on? No more so than He gave the Ten Commandments only to the clergy. They are the universal possession, they are for all the laity as well as the clergy. And to whom, as you examine the Inspired Volume, are most of its contents directed? There are the fourteen letters, or epistles, of St. Paul. A few of them, like those to Timothy and Titus, are addressed to a clergyman, but the greater majority are addressed to the congregations at Rome, at Ephesus, at Philippi, at Thessalonica, and so forth, to the members accordingly. Moreover, the direction in many places is, that the hearers should examine what the preachers say, lest they preach something contrary to the Scriptures. How could the hearers do this if they were prohibited from reading the Bible? Away, then, with this opinion that is gaining ground, that the Bible is a professional clergyman's text-book, and let the personal application strike home in your own case, Thou shalt search the Scriptures. And one other reason does God furnish us in the text why we should read it. He says, "For in them ye think ye have eternal life; and they are they which testify of me." Those are deep, wonderful words; they tell what Bible reading benefits, brings us, _viz._, eternal life. That this present life is not all there is to life, that there is a life besides and after this, that all men in all ages and in all countries have conjectured; that life is dependent upon a right relation to God, this, too, an inward monitor, called conscience, however unwelcome may be its voice, tells every one with greater or less distinctness; but how man is to get into right relations with his God, to that problem one book, the Bible, and it alone, holds the key. What is that key? The text says it: "Search the Scriptures; for in them ye think we have eternal life, and they are they which testify of me." "Me," is the speaker, Jesus Christ, and doing what the text directs, we find that everywhere does it link "life" with Christ. "I," says Jesus, "am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life." "I am the Resurrection and the Life." "I am come that ye might have life." The writings of the Apostles are full of the same thought: "In Him was life." "He that hath the Son hath life." "He that believeth not the Son shall not see life." "This is life eternal to know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom Thou hast sent." Would we, then, have life, life that is life indeed, spiritual life, life that passes over into eternal life, then must we find it in Christ, and this is the teaching of the text, and its application to us; to find Christ you must read your Bible. Outside of what the Bible tells us there is no salvation, no hope, no life. Let that thought, I pray you, sink down indelibly into your minds. There are some certain truths which men may know without the Bible,--that there is a God; that this God has certain attributes; that He is almighty, all-knowing, holy, just, gracious; for it is only an almighty Being that could have created, only an all-wise Being that could so adequately have fitted up this universe. Men also know without the Bible that there is a difference between good and evil, and that the one is to be done and the other left undone. Likewise they have a strong notion that man is immortal, and that there is a future state. These few things men may know without the Scriptures, and these few even only imperfectly. But when it comes to the questions: Who is God? What is His will? What His purposes toward us men, purposes of damnation for offenses and sins committed against His holiness? What guarantee have you that there is a life beyond this? And what sort of a life is it? Who has ever brought us information regarding it? What can afford me peace against a conscience that convicts me of wrong and offense against the holy God? When, as stated, it comes to deal with such and innumerable other questions, there is only one source of information, one book that can enlighten and instruct us, and that is this Book which God Himself has inspired to be written; in which He has revealed Himself, according to His person and His attributes; in which He proclaims His plan of salvation for the sinful and condemned race of men, and opens out to them with divine assurance the gates of immortality and life. There is none equal to it, nothing like it, it stands in a class all to itself,--it is not man's book, but God's. Wouldst thou, then, my dear hearer, know these things that affect thy soul, thy salvation, thy everlasting destiny, then take this volume and read. So much as to the first concern, why we should read it. Because God commands it. Because of what it brings us. And now let us regard: How should we read it? Here I would say, first, regularly, with pious consistency. It is well enough for a person to come to church on Sunday. As long as he does that, and attends to what is going on there, his soul is not left altogether without spiritual nourishment. But church comes only once a week, and if the soul gets no spiritual food beyond what it may pick up there, I leave you to judge whether it is likely to shoot up into a strong and healthy growth of godliness. The First Psalm describes the godly man as delighting in the Law of the Lord, and in His Law doth he meditate both day and night. Time, indeed, for the most of us may be very limited; but none of us--I say that without fear of challenge--but can, if he wishes and so wills, find a few minutes to read a verse or two when he comes home in the evening, or before he goes to work in the morning, or while going to work, and a couple of verses well thought over will do a person more good than whole chapters swallowed without thought. Resolve to do but this little, my dear hearers, and God, who judges us according to our means, and who looked with greater favor on the two mites of the poor widow than on all the golden offerings of the rich, will accept your two verses and enable your souls to grow and gain strength by this their daily food. The doctors tell us that our health is largely determined by the regularity of our habits, and this is as true of our spiritual health as of our bodily. There is none of us who fails to take a glance at the daily paper,--why not at the Bible? Be regular. Then, again, as you have time, read it carefully. That is the direction of the text. The word "search" in the original is a very strong one, much stronger than "read." It may be rendered "ransack." Turn up and down,--bring all your industry to bear upon the quest. One trouble with our hearers is that they imagine that they are pretty well familiar with all the Bible has to tell them, and the result is that they miss the wealth of its hidden treasures. But there is no royal road to Bible knowledge. It calls for thought, earnest research, and thorough investigation. For that reason every one, to become right practical, every member of the family should have a Bible of his or her own, of clear type and good paper, and of substantial binding. On the margin that Bible ought to have the marginal references of which I spoke to you at length in a former service. In the rear of your Bible have a concordance; there you will find a large number of passages on a certain topic, for instance, prayer. Look them up in your Bible, compare them, and you will learn what the Bible has to say regarding prayer. So of other subjects, such as faith, charity, redemption, and the like. It is profitable and delightful work. It is like digging out gold. You will not mind the labor in the fascinating charm it has for you. And to this you may add as a most helpful guide a good commentary written by some sincere lover of God's Word. What other devout and learned students of God's Word have written it is well for us to profit by in our understanding of the precious volume. Not a charm or an ornament to keep on our shelves or to lock up in our closets, not a story-book to read for amusement, is the Bible, but, as the text tells us, the means of giving us eternal life in Christ Jesus; and so we ought to make use of it. There, then, it is--Holy Bible, Book Divine, our chief treasure in this sin-darkened world, giving strength, comfort, and salvation. Ah! who should not prize it, read it, search it? God make us ministers and our members Bible students; how much better ministers, how much better members we would then be! May God bless the words of our lips and the meditation of our hearts! Amen. QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY. For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.--_Rom. 3, 23._ A few days more, and we shall have entered upon Lent. What is Lent? Lent is a time of several weeks which for ages has been set apart among Christians for a period of more than usual seriousness. As observed in our Church, it is a time marked out from the rest of the year as more especially devoted to the contemplation of those vital truths on which our Christian religion is founded. To be brief, Lenten time with us is Passion time. Passion, in simple English, means suffering, more particularly, the suffering of Christ. Accordingly, Passion time, or Passion tide, is the season when we are more especially called upon to commemorate, and call to mind, and ponder, and think over the suffering of our Savior, Christ, those scenes announced in the Gospel when He was betrayed into the hands of wicked men, and by them was falsely accused, reviled, mocked, scourged, crowned with thorns, and at last crucified. In order that we might do that in the proper manner, as we ought to do, the Church, from the earliest period, has appointed the forty days of Lent, just as it has appointed the four Sundays in Advent, to be a preparation for Christmas. For there are two great seasons in the year which it behooves every Christian to conscientiously observe, if he wishes to pay dutiful honor to his Savior. The first season is Christmas, in memory of His loving kindness in coming down from heaven, putting on the nature of man. The other season is Lent, to commemorate His dying love. Both these seasons are so important, of such moment to the welfare of the soul, that the Church has set apart the four Sundays which come before Christmas and the forty days which come before Easter as a time of preparation. The wisdom of such an arrangement no one can doubt. Just like the early bell on Sunday is meant to call us to get ready for church, the service of God's house, so Advent and Lent call us to get ready for Christmas and Good Friday. When a musical instrument has been laid by for a while, it needs tuning, or it will make but sorry music. The minds and hearts of most Christians, too, require to be gotten into tune before they can bear their part fitly and harmoniously in the services by which the Church commemorates the death and resurrection of her Lord. And how? What is the best way to prepare for a profitable and advantageous Lent? That is conditioned by another question: What was it that delivered our blessed Lord into the hands of those wicked men, that caused Him that shameful treatment, mockery, and finally nailed Him to the cross? The malice of the chief priest, the treachery of Judas, the cowardice of Pontius Pilate? Deeper, my beloved, deeper; they were but the instrumental, not the procuring cause. The real cause, you know it, was something else,--sin. To do away with, to secure the pardon of that, Christ died. Then it is plain, that in order to understand the value of His suffering, to observe that season aright, we must begin with being convinced of the evil, of the exceeding hatefulness and danger of sin. Here is the first elementary truth which meets us at the threshold of Lent, without which it will be of no more value to you than a lock without a key, a mine without a shaft; herein consists its best preparation, to secure a right conviction of sin. That, God blessing the effort, shall be the intent of our sermon. When the ostrich, scouring along the sandy desert, finds that it cannot escape the huntsman, it is said to thrust its head into a bush, and fancying that the danger which it ceases to see has ceased to exist, it remains there, quite tranquil, to receive the death-blow of the huntsman. Poor, senseless, stupid bird! Yet not one degree more so than is the folly of many who are not birds, but possessed of reason and soul. Plenty there are who, shutting their eyes to the evil, burrowing their heads in the sand-heap of excuses and false peace, thus hide until the fatal stroke of death puts an end to their earthly career, and opening their eyes in a place where there is no repentance, as the rich man in the parable, they realize that it is too late. If we turn to the Bible, it teaches that there are two great classes or kinds of sin; and if we turn to the witness within and the evidence without, we shall find what the Bible tells us everywhere corroborated and borne out. The one kind of sin is the Original or Birth Sin, that all men are naturally engendered, are conceived and born in sin; that is, they are all, from their mother's womb, full of evil desires and propensities, and that this is the fountainhead of all other, or actual, sins, such as evil thoughts, words, and deeds. There are many who reject this doctrine; they contend that when man is born into this world, his soul is as pure as the snow that comes down in beautiful flurries from the sky, and as perfect as the vessel that passes from the potter's hand; they tell us that we are God's favorite creatures, that He has made us lords of the creation and heirs of eternal life, and that, therefore, it is quite impossible that we should be so prone to sin, as our Church, setting forth the doctrine of the Bible in her confession, declares us to be. But they are willfully ignorant. The question whether we are prone to sin from our cradles upward is a mere question of fact. One has only to look into one's own heart, and what do you find there, good or evil? You will say, a little of both. Be it so; but tell me, or rather tell yourselves, honestly and truly, which of the two cost you the most trouble to learn, and which of the two comes the easier? Is there a doubt? Does one contract good habits easier than bad, or the reverse? Is it easier for a sober man to become a drunkard than for a poor, miserable, besotted drunkard to trace his steps back and to become sober? Or, another point of view. Ask mothers, accustomed to watch their children from earliest infancy, whether every child that has come under their observation had not something to learn that was good, and something to unlearn that was evil. Now, whence did this evil come from? It cannot have been taught to the child, for the evil showed itself at a time before all teaching; it had it naturally. And so it is in other things. The good wheat must be sown and looked after, or it will never amount to much. The weeds sprout up and spread of themselves, and it is as great a labor to keep them down as to get the good wheat up. The truth is, "Like begetteth like." "In Adam's fall we sinned all." The fountain was polluted, so is the stream; sin is born in the bone, as it were, and without God's help we can no more mend it than a sick man can mend and cure himself without the help of a physician. But this original sin is not the only kind. Though men deny that, they cannot deny the other, what our Catechism calls Actual Sin. Like trees in the forest does it surround them. Where is the man that dares affirm that he has never been guilty of doing what he should never have done, or guilty of not doing what he should have done? Lives there a person so happy as to look back on the past and feel no remorse, or forward to the future and feel no fear? What? Is there no page of your history that you would obliterate, no leaf that, with God's permission, you would tear from the book of life's story? To David's prayer, "Lord, remember not the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions," have you no solemn and hearty Amen? If you could be carried back to the starting-post, and stood again at your mother's knee, and sat again at the old school desk with companions that are now changed, or scattered, or dead, or gone, were you to begin life anew, would you run the selfsame course, would you live over the selfsame life? Is there no speech to unsay, no act to undo, no day, Sunday, or evening to spend better? No one among those with whom you are now living or among those that have gone before--to whom you would bear yourself otherwise than you have done? Where is there a breathing man that can say: "I am pure in my heart. I am clear from all sin"? If he does, he deceives himself, the truth is not in him. As well deny your existence as deny the existence of actual sin. But what men will not deny they will seek to excuse. It were amusing, if it were not a matter so serious, to observe with what palliation and apologies defenses are thrown up by which, after all, men's sins do not look so exceedingly sinful. Thus there be those who say: If we are naturally born to evil, as the Bible says and our experience testifies, we cannot help it, and how can it be a fault of ours if we do wrong? And how can God blame and punish us for not being better than He made us? It is thus that Scotland's famous poet, Burns, sings: Thou knowest that Thou hast formed me With passions wild and strong, And listening to their witching voice Has often led me wrong. In other words, I am a sinner, but the fault is not mine, but God's. Or, again, they ascribe the blame to the power of temptation. "The serpent beguiled me," was the excuse of the first sinner; it is still, in a more or less measure, the excuse of every sinner. Temptation came upon them so suddenly and with such stealth and vehemence that it swept them off their feet before they were aware of it. Or (once more), like the original sinner, they lay their blame upon their fellow-man. "The woman that Thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat." What parent or mother has not discovered, in correcting a disobedient boy, that he is uniformly punishing the wrong one? It was always the other boy who brought about the evil act, and so, invariably, it is the bad company, evil influences, peculiar surroundings, locality, that make people to sin. Whatever the palliatives and excuses, my beloved hearers, the thing will not do; it is vain and ignoble, and, in part, what has been said is blasphemy. In the first place, whatever prompted, tempted the act, the act was done by the sinner himself, and not by another; he knew of it, he consented to it, he gave his members and body to it. It is also useless to say that he was swept away by temptation. The same excuse might the suicide plead who seeks the river, stands on its brink, and, leaping in, is swept off to his watery grave. We go down like Samson to Delilah; we stand in the way of sinners, we frequent the places of guilty pleasures, and then, falling, complain about the strength of temptation. Away with all such subterfuges and opiates that simply drug the conscience! What is sin? Sin, says God's Word, is the transgression of the Law, the most terrible and abominable thing in this world. Sin is that which drove man out of Paradise garden, robbed him of the divine image, severed the happy relation between him and his Creator, and plunged him into accursedness and misery. Sin is a disease which turns all moral beauty into rottenness, causes all grief and distress, breaks hearts, and fills our cemeteries, man's worst, man's most ruinous and most formidable enemy, that dogs his every footstep in this life, and calls down upon his body and soul the wrath and eternal damnation from a God who hates and who punishes sin. What greater comfort, then, than to know how and where to receive deliverance and remedy from it. It has been stated before among the excuses that man is born a sinner, and because born so, he cannot be blamed for sinning, any more than a sick person for dying. He cannot help it. That seems very plausible, indeed. It would be very unjust to blame a sick person for dying, provided there were no remedies; but in a country where there are plenty of physicians and the sick have only to send for them,--if in such a country a sick man is obstinate, and will not send for a physician, nor take the means of being made well, he is to blame, and if he dies, he is guilty of his own death. And suppose now that the physician does not wait to be sent for, that he comes of his own accord to the sick man's bedside, that he brings a medicine of rare herbs in his hand, and says to the sick man: "My friend, I heard you were very sick, and so I came to see you and fetch you a medicine which is a certain cure if you take it. Never mind your poverty, I ask no payment." But the sick man refuses it; he does not like its look, or he finds it is bitter to take, or a neighbor has told him not to heed the physician, and he dies. Who is to blame? That's our case precisely. We have a soul's sickness. But a great Physician is come to us. He has a dear remedy, a specific, made of the most precious ingredients, _viz._, His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death. He brings that medicine to our doors. Shall we refuse to take it? Shall we say that we will have none of it? We may do so; there is no compulsion; this heavenly Physician foists Himself on none. But whose shall be the blame, who be the loser? Be wise, then. Lenten time is repenting time. May we, as it says in the Collect, so pass through this holy time of our Lord that we may obtain the pardon of our sins. May we enter this incoming season with a solemn earnestness toward spiritual things, with a resolve to spend its days in sacred devotion under the cross, and with sorrow over our past failures set ourselves to a better and more consecrated life. And to this may the good Lord graciously incline the hearts of every one of us! Amen. FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT. Then came Amalek, and fought with Israel in Rephidim. And Moses said unto Joshua, Choose us out men, and go out, fight with Amalek; to-morrow I will stand on the top of the hill with the rod of God in mine hand. So Joshua did as Moses had said to him and fought with Amalek; And Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel prevailed; and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed. But Moses' hands were heavy; and they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat thereon: and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side: And his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. And Joshua discomfited Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword.--_Exodus 17, 8-13._ An impressive picture of modern art is that which has for its scene the Evil One, the devil, sitting at a table playing a game of chess. Bending over the board, with the self-possession of a master, reclines the adversary of man. At the opposite side is a young man. There is a look of diabolical glee upon the dark brow of Satan, whilst the features of his playmate wear the signs of deepest agony; for, alas! that which the youth has staked on the results of the game seems hopelessly lost--his immortal soul. Back of the young man, unseen by him, the artist has painted a calm, benignant figure. It is his guardian angel, or better still, the Angel of the Covenant, the Lord, whose heavenly skill at last checkmates the destroyer. This is not merely poetic and artist's fancy. It is with no cloudy vagueness that the existence of a Spirit of Evil is revealed in the Holy Scriptures. There are many these days who are disposed to laugh at the account which tells us of man's temptation and fall in the Garden as a myth, an Oriental hyperbole, and to characterize the closing chapters of Revelation, which inform us of the Tempter's fall and fate, as allegory and romance. But there still remains scattered throughout the Bible, in connection with every prominent Bible character and Bible event, mention of a personal agent of evil, the foe of God and the foe of man, bent with restless activity and mastery of deceit upon the destruction of souls and the corruption of the creation of God. Not a matter of speculation is this belief in the existence and power of the chief of fallen angels, and far wiser and prudent were it if, in place of talking of, people, in humble acceptation of God's Word, would recognize their foe, and seek the strength and means to contend with him. What we need against the arch-enemy of our souls is the simple faith and the bold defiance that breathes forth in the life, the words, and the hymns of our great Reformer, a spirit which prompted him to do--what is perhaps only a tradition, yet fully characterizes the man--_viz._, that when his mighty imagination had conjured up before him the very form and face of the Wicked One, he took his inkstand and hurled it at him, leaving behind, as memento, an ugly spot upon the wall of his study. It is of this conflict with the Prince of Darkness that the text speaks. Three particulars would we note: _I. The foe to be encountered_; _II. the weapons employed_; _III. the victory achieved_, and as Moses was distinctly bidden by God in the 14th verse of the chapter from which our text has been taken: "Write these for a memorial in a book," let us write the words spoken for a memorial on the tablet of our hearts. We meet the people of God in Rephidim engaged in a fierce encounter with the Amalekites. No doubt, the Lord could have led His people safely through the wilderness without any such conflicts if He had chosen to do so, but He had His own, wise designs in permitting them. And so with Satan's workings and attacks people may argue and speculate. Why did God ever permit such a dangerous foe to exert his malicious power and tempt mankind? Suffice it to answer: It thus seemed good unto Him, and is in perfect accordance with His almightiness and wisdom. The Amalekites, the people with whom the Israelites were in conflict, were the descendants of Esau, Amalek having been his grandson, and as is wont to be with relatives, unfortunately, the hatred which Esau entertained toward his brother Jacob had become transplanted upon his children, yea, seems to have grown the more bitter, deeper, and malignant as time progressed. And the offspring of both multiplied into a great and prosperous people. The Amalekites at this time occupied a large tract of land extending from the confines of Idumea to the shores of the Red Sea. When, therefore, Israel crossed over and encamped at the Mount of Sinai, they were close upon their borders; but they offered them no injury nor provocation, and far from invading their territory, they were turning rapidly away from it when Amalek assaulted them, and that in a most dastardly manner; for, not daring to engage them in front, they smote the hindmost of them, even all that were faint and weary, who had lagged behind and were alike incapable of resistance or flight. When Moses became aware of the enemy, he issues command unto Joshua, the military leader: "Choose us out men, and go out, and fight with Amalek; to-morrow I will stand on the top of the hill with the rod of God in mine hand." "So Joshua did as Moses had said to him, and fought with Amalek; and Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill." And whilst the battle was raging in the valley, whilst the swords were clashing, the warriors grappling, the wounded groaning, and the fighting masses surging to and fro in fierce and bloody encounter, Moses was stationed upon the brow of Mount Sinai, lifting up his hands in prayer and intercession to the God of Battles. An encouraging sight! From that ancient battle-ground, a picture and pattern, we would direct our eyes unto ourselves. Like as of old, we are warriors of the Lord, soldiers of Jesus Christ. We have our Amalek, the old evil Foe, who means deadly woe. Let us take our stand by the side of Moses in the mountain, and for a few moments look at the enemy. Foremost, the leader of the host, is that original tempter, deceiver, destroyer, and murderer, that Wicked One, the Father of Lies, the Prince of Darkness, the roaring lion that goes about seeking whom he may destroy. Marshaled around him, as their mighty captain, are legions of lesser spirit-beings which arithmetic cannot begin to calculate. Scripture tells us that Satan could spare seven devils to torment one poor sinner. What, then, must their number be? And as the Amalekites, they hate us with a perfect hatred. Having by their bad ambition and pride lost heaven and being hurled to the bottomless pit, they are now most bitterly and irreconcilably opposed to everything that stands in connection with the Redeemer and His redeemed. To think that we, who are equally fallen into sin, should be restored to grace, accepted to the very thrones they have lost, is more than their envy can endure. For this reason they pursue us through life, dog our every step, and press us to the very gate of death. What tactics does this spiritual enemy employ? As the enemy in the field, by false signals, feigned movements, masked batteries, and every strategic art, seeks to conceal his position, disguises his plan of attack, just so our spiritual enemies seek to beguile by a thousand stratagems and schemes to mislead the unwary and inexperienced and bring to fall the strongest. As in the case of the Amalekites, they attack you in your most vulnerable points and at a time when you are faint and weakest; and they are as vigilant as they are cunning. Always and everywhere they are on the watch for souls. If you come to the house of God, they are here before you; if you enter your room in prayer, you cannot shut them out. By day they compass your path, by night they surround your pillow. Wherever you are they are; whatever you say, they hear it; whatever you do, they perceive it. From our birth to our burial--a frightful thought!--we are perpetually watched by myriads of malignant eyes, unclean and accursed spirits, ready to avail themselves of every opportunity to do us harm and ruin all our hopes. Or need we any examples for what harm they have done? Behold that lovely pair fresh from the Creator's hand walking the groves of Eden, and behold again the outcasts--we know the cause. Observe Job, that perfect man of Uz, robbed of his property and his children, and smitten in body with a sore disease. Who was it that instigated Judas to betray the Lord, Peter to deny Him, all Jerusalem to clamor for His blood, the Roman governor to condemn Him to the cross? St. John said in his day that the whole world was lying in the bosom of the Evil One, and it is much the same to this present day. All men are more or less subject to his influences, and two-thirds of the human race controlled by this evil genius. This, then, is the foe with whom we are obliged to contend. But how can the lamb cope with the lion? How can we expect to conquer that enemy who conquered our first parents in the strength of their original purity? Truly, "With might of ours can naught be done, soon were our loss effected." And yet we have nothing to fear. We have a precious ally, we battle under a valiant, an unconquerable Leader. The Lord of Hosts is with us, just so we are firm in the strife and rightly use the weapons He has furnished us. And which are these? Reading the 13th verse of our text, we find it distinctly mentioned: "And Joshua discomfited Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword." And which is our spiritual sword? For our enemy being spiritual, it is evident our weapon must be likewise. Saint Paul gives answer when he says in Ephesians: "Take the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God." Here, then, Christian warrior, is a weapon, better than Damascus blades. With this our Lord defeated Satan in the wilderness; with this St. Peter pierced the hearts of thousands on Pentecost; with this St. Paul made Felix tremble, and Agrippa, as he confessed to Paul, was almost persuaded by him to become a Christian; with this Martin Luther prevailed against the son of Belial and his besotted minions. Grasp it firmly, wield it vigorously. Or do you claim you do not know how? Then permit me to give you a few general directions. You are all familiar with the story of David and Goliath,--how the great champion of the Philistines daily came forth, cursing and challenging the people of God, until one day a shepherd lad of Bethlehem comes into the camp and with a stone from his sling stretches the huge form of the giant flat upon the ground. You, my beloved, are spiritual Davids; the smooth pebbles you have gathered up from the brook of God's Word are the holy Ten Commandments; learn to sling these aright, and you are invincible. Are you, for instance, tempted to speak the Lord's name irreverently, then place pebble, called the second, in your spiritual sling, which says: "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord, thy God, in vain," and your tempter will fall flat like Philistia's giant. Are you tempted to negligence, indifference in regard to the Lord's day and the Lord's house, take No. 3. Would Satan tempt a young Christian to disobedience, to indecency, or an old Christian to dishonesty, intemperance, coveteousness,--whatever the sin may be, select the proper pebble, and victory is yours. "This world's prince may still scowl fierce as he will, he can harm us none, he's judged, the deed is done, one little word can fell him." Then, too, let us remember that we are "more than conquerors through Him that loves us." In His strength let us battle. When the devil would deceive us, or seduce us into misbelief, despair, and other great shame and vice, let us cast ourselves upon Him who vanquished the Evil Foe. His cross is our strength. Let us hold that up before him, and he will skulk away in sullen retreat. The precious Gospel of Christ will quench all the fiery darts of doubt, unbelief, and despair which the hellish enemy would shoot into our hearts. Thus with the Law and the Gospel we can conquer him. Nor is this all. Another powerful weapon is placed at our command. Most graphically does our text describe it when it says: "And Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel prevailed; and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed." The Israelites would not have conquered had they not fought. But the other is equally as true: they would not have conquered had Moses not prayed. The real decision in the matter seemed not so much in the conflict in the valley as with the man of prayer, the suppliant on the mountain. And here, my dear Christian, still rests your power. Much as people may sneer at prayer in these atheistic and skeptic times, prayer is the hand that moves the world. "Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon his knees." Our Lord warning Peter addresses him, "Simon Peter, behold, Satan hath desired to have you that he may sift you as wheat; but I have prayed for thee"; and His constant exhortation in the sore hour of Gethsemane was, "Watch and pray lest ye fall into temptation." How many a one when he asks himself, How was it possible that I should have fallen so deeply and strayed so far from my God? will hear his conscience whisper: You had grown indifferent, neglectful in your devotion and your prayers, and hence came your failure. Prayer must be incessant and mutual. Two are better than one, and a threefold cord is not quickly broken. Moses, Aaron, and Hur, together they prevailed. Where man and wife join in sacred communion to the God of families, His blessing will rest upon them, and the Evil One be kept at bay. Where a congregation is strong in devout and earnest looking to God, it can accomplish wonders against the Prince of Darkness and the wickedness of the world. When the day closed and the sun had sunk beneath the battle-ground in Rephidim, the victory was won; Amalek was defeated. It was Israel's first achievement, but not their last. Amalek continued to harass them, and even Saul and David had to take up arms against them. Nor is it different with us. The spiritual campaign lasts "until we draw our fleeting breath, till our eyelids close in death"; hence, "from strength to strength go on, wrestle, and fight, and pray, tread all the powers of darkness down, and win the well-fought day." And if at times your hands would grow weary and your knees weak amidst the conflict in the valley, then look up like Israel of old to the mountain from whence cometh your help, to that blessed knoll where hangs our divine Moses with his arms extended,--look up to the cross. Amen. SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT. Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world.--_2 Tim. 4, 10._ There is nothing sadder, my beloved hearers, nothing more calculated to strike dread into the heart, than the punishment of a deserter in the army. The offender is led before his regiment, and after the rehearsal of his disgrace to his fellow-soldiers, his arms are pinioned, his eyes bandaged, and an open coffin stands ready to receive his lifeless body. The file of soldiers aim at the one fluttering heart, and the lightning-like death ends the dreadful scene. And why is a deserter's doom made so awful? Simply because the crime of desertion is so great, its demoralizing effect which it would have on the army so fatal, that it must be punished in the most telling and fearful manner. History, both sacred and secular, has put no deeper brand of infamy than on deserters. Benedict Arnold stands forth as an instance of the one, Judas Iscariot as an instance of the other. American history holds up the one before us, bandaged, pinioned, shot through with the bullets of a nation's abhorrence and malediction, whilst the other, Judas, is a name detested as far as the Bible is read and to the day of doom. In our text we read of another deserter. His name is Demas, and the Apostle Paul has set the mark of infamy upon him. Who, we question, was this man Demas? And what was the nature of his offense? We know very little of his early career, but that little is most favorable. He had been an associate of St. Paul in the ranks of Christ's followers. Paul more than once makes honorable mention of his name. When he wrote his letter to the Church at Colossae, he coupled the name of Demas with that of St. Luke. He thus writes: "Luke, the beloved physician, and Demas greet you," which shows that he must have been favorably known in the Church, and that his greetings must have been highly thought of, else would the apostle not have forwarded them through his own letter. And one more fact do we know of him. He not only professed love toward Christ, but he had once suffered for his Christian profession. He most likely had worn the honorable mark of prison chains in the name and for the sake of Christ. In his letter to Philemon, St. Paul, remembering his companions in suffering, writes: "There salute thee Epaphras, my fellow-prisoner in Christ Jesus; Marcus, Aristarchus, Demas, and Lucas, my fellow-laborers." So the apostle once wrote from a Roman prison of Demas, and it was from the same prison that he afterwards sadly penned these painful words: "Demas hath forsaken me." And why? Did his health fail? Did he go to labor elsewhere? Paul tells us: "Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world." There we have the reason, and it is one that we shall more clearly regard in our instruction these moments. On the previous Lord's day we considered the first great enemy of our soul, Satan. To-day we come to the second, the world, reserving the third, the flesh, God willing, for next Sunday. To deal practically and directly with the matter, let us ask the questions: _I. What is worldliness, and how can I tell whether I am worldly or not?_ _II. How can I overcome my worldliness?_ And may God's wisdom and blessing attend our meditation! If we read our Bible carefully, my beloved, we shall be impressed, overwhelmed by the number of Scripture passages which refer to God's people and their relation to this world. These passages are found in the Old Testament and in the New, and they are plain-spoken, their own interpretation. In the Old Testament they are such as these: "Deliver my soul from men of the world, who have their portion in this life." "And ye shall be holy unto me, for I, the Lord, am holy, and have severed you from other people, that ye should be mine." In the New Testament we find the passages still more explicit and manifold. To begin with, there is nothing that Jesus teaches with greater frequency or with greater positiveness than this fact, that we are to be unworldly in our Christian life. "Ye are not of the world," He declares, "for I have chosen you out of the world." "Ye cannot serve God and mammon." "What shall it profit a man if he should gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" And as the Master, so His apostles. "Be not conformed," exhorts Paul, "to this world." "Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers." "Come out from among them, and be ye separate." James writes: "The friendship of the world is enmity with God. Whosoever will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God." "True religion before God is to keep oneself unspotted from the world." And to finish our quotations with the words of St. John: "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any one love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." There is nothing uncertain about these statements. Their teaching is clear. They declare that there is a broad and ineffaceable line of demarcation between the people of God and the world. They are so far apart that no man can belong to both at the same time. To try to do so produces an absurd piety and a sham, is as foolish as trying to mix light and darkness, oil and water. They refuse to mix. It means either--or, one or the other. Either Christianity will have the sway, and it will conquer and eradicate the world, or the world will have the sway, and it will efface Christianity. The world proposes a compromise, it is true, but the compromise always means death; that is why it proposes it. How imperative, then, that we should analyze what worldliness is and plant an interrogation in our heart: Am I worldly? What, then, is worldliness? There are some who have no difficulty whatever in defining it. "Worldliness," why, that's easily explained; going to races, theaters, balls, playing euchre and dressing flashily--that's it. No doubt it is; but worldliness does not confine itself merely to theaters and balls, cards and dress. There are hundreds of people who have never been inside of a ballroom, rarely or never attended a theater, and yet they may be intensely worldly for all that. Worldliness implies something vastly more and deeper. It is something which affects not only the external acts of a person, but the heart; something which is determined by the spirit with which we do things, and not so much by the things with which we have to do. It is not the earth, the objects and the people that fill this earth, that we may not love, but the way in which we love these objects and people that constitute the world. "Worldliness," I answer, is a condition of the heart. Let us look into this a little closer. It has to do with the inner spirit of the man or the woman. Demas' mistake was that he loved the world. Did not Paul love the world? Did he not love it when he renounced ease, gain, promotion, and station, and threw his whole soul into the holy effort of saving a poor lost world for Christ? Do we not read that God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son? And that only-begotten Son, did He not love the world when He gave His heart's blood to redeem it? Yes, they loved it and showed their love by lifting it out of its sinful and guilty condition. In the same way you and I may love the world that we may do it good, and so give more of our time, money, talents, and energy to win it back to God. But that was not the love that brought Demas to fall, and against which we are warned. No, something quite different,--the world's ways, maxims, aims, ease, pleasures, and fascinations. Tradition tells us that Demas afterwards became a priest in a heathen temple. If so, it was no doubt because he found more gain in silver and gold than in the service of Christ. How do you regard the things of the world in your heart, and how do you regard the people of the world? That is what determines worldliness. If you love pleasure better than your prayers, any book better than your Bible, any house better than God's, any person better than your Savior, you are worldly. You are surrounded by people who do not fear God, who do not keep His commandments, who have no treasure in heaven, no plans or purposes which extend beyond the grave, minus faith, minus hope, minus all spiritual life,--what is your attitude toward such? Do you make your choice of friends from these professed worldly men and women? If so, you are worldly. I assure you some of our worst foes are our ungodly friends. Then, you may reply, we cannot go into society at all, we must live secluded lives. The Bible does not say that. What it says is that, when we go into society, we ought to take our Christianity with us. Our Lord went into society, and wherever He went, they felt the sacredness which was about Him. You go into society, what is the result? Do you influence it, or are you influenced by it? What effect has it upon your religious life and professions? Does it secularize you and make you unfit for prayer? Does it silence your testimony of Christ, and cool down your interest and enthusiasm for the Church? Know, then, that it is making you worldly. A woman who cannot be recognized in society as a Christian by her modest dress and her pure ways, and the tone and topic of her conversation, is a worldling. The man who can do business, and not be known as a Christian by his business scruples and methods and spirit, is a worldling. If a worldling can truthfully say of you, "He is no better than I am," you are a worldling. If you live as a worldling, you are a worldling. That needs no argument. But, after all, be it noted that, however it manifests itself in manner, dress, social companionship, and conduct, worldliness primarily is a temper, spirit, and disposition of the heart. "As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." The world would have done Demas no harm if he had not loved it. It will do us no harm as long as we keep it out of our hearts. But here is where lurks the very danger,--it so easily, so silently, and very gradually insinuates itself into the heart. To use an illustration: In olden times the sailors, a race given to superstition, used to tell that somewhere in the Indian Ocean there was a magnetic rock that rose from the deep with power of attraction. Silently a ship was drawn towards this rock, nearer and nearer, and gradually one by one the bolts were drawn out of the vessel's side by the magnetic power. The end was that, when the doomed vessel had drawn so near that every bolt and clamp was unloosed, the whole fabric fell apart, and the crew and cargo would sink down into the waters. So stands the magnetic rock of worldliness, enchantments, and fascinations. Its attraction is slow, silent, and yet powerfully it draws the soul that comes within its range. Under its spell, bolt after bolt of good resolutions, clamp after clamp of Christian duty are drawn out, until at length the whole structure of Christian profession falls together, a pitiable wreck. Attracted by the things of time and sense, the affections become chilled, the mind step by step full of the world. O for the poor victims, thousands of them, equally as promising, that have foundered like this unfortunate Demas! We can see them floating everywhere on the surface of society, like spiritual driftwood, alas! see them in the church keeping up a little outward appearance and forms of religion, but generally found absent from their pew and taking little or no interest in matters of the Church. And in what way, coming to the second consideration, may we overcome this dangerous evil, worldliness? The Bible does not leave us without answer. As worldliness is a disposition of heart, it first aims at that. We are not to spend our time in saying this is worldly and that in formulating absolute and universal rules and binding church-members to them. It is not so much a matter of correct outward conduct as of correct inward principles. If the blood is in good condition, the complexion will be. If the heart is right, the conduct will be, and so the Apostle, getting at the root of the cause, says: "Be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed," by the renewing of your minds. Christianity is a spiritual power. When the soul opens to it, the Holy Spirit resets and new-creates the spirit of the man, so that he looks away from earth to heaven, and from the things of this world to the things of God and eternity. Another bent is given to his feelings and his aims. He walks in the light of a new sun. He feels the presence of a new law drawing him in a different direction. He sees with other eyes, estimates things by another rule, and is moved by other principles. And as he yields to this new graft upon his nature, he instinctively realizes what is contrary to it. He does not need outward rules, it is plainly told him from within. The written Word is at hand to direct in many cases, and in questions of doubt the honest consultation of his own moral sense, the life of faith in the soul, will tell him where the line is to be drawn between him and the world. And to mention one other way. If you would overcome worldliness, look after your associations. The Bible is full of admonitions and illustrations to that effect, but one perhaps stands out in boldest type, the story of Lot. He moved out of his simple patriarchal life into Sodom, the world center of his age, and the result you know. His family became hopelessly worldly, he himself without influence and power among men, and the end was destruction of his estate and judgment upon his unfortunate wife. If not quite as disastrous, the result is always the same in character. Keep godly associations and connections, attend to the house of God. We need the fellowship of God's people to respiritualize and recharge our depressed Christian lives. It should be a place of strengthening to you. Make its people your special companions and confidants; have some from among its membership with whom you are on terms of intimacy and friendship. It is wonderful how much we are influenced by our environment and fellowship; let us, then, be careful to live with God and with God's people. To conclude,--God help us by His grace and Holy Spirit so to live in this world as to live above it and look beyond it, diligently use the means He has given us for strength and fidelity, and preserve us from the deadly snare of that great enemy of our soul, the godless, Christless world. Nor, let us ever remember, can we successfully meet this enemy without looking for strength to that divine source upon which our eyes are centered at this season, the cross of our adorable Savior. He that kneels in devotion at the foot of the cross, that has the love of Him that suffered and died for us upon that cross spread abroad in his heart, cannot divide that heart with his rival, and enemy, and obtain force and power to combat against his assaults. Without Him we can do nothing. With Him we can prevail. Grant that I Thy passion view With repentant grieving, Nor Thee crucify anew By unholy living. How could I refuse to shun Every sinful pleasure, Since for me God's only Son Suffered without measure? Amen. THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT. Now when the Pharisee which had bidden Him saw it, he spake within himself, saying, This man, if He were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth Him; for she is a sinner.--_Luke 7, 39._ Our Lord was reclining at a social meal in the house of Simon the Pharisee, when, unbidden, a woman enters the room, and, standing at the feet of Jesus, bursts into tears. She had not come for that purpose, but stationed aside of the Lord, she was so overcome that she could not restrain her emotion, and as the tears fall thick and fast upon the feet of her Lord, she wipes them with her hair, and kissing them, anoints them with costly ointment. The whole transaction is so simple and touching that we feel at once interested in the stranger. It is a question much discussed by Bible students who this woman was. It has been said it was Mary Magdalene, but that is a mistake; nor was it Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus of Bethany. Her name, for wise and kind reasons, is withheld from the Church. But we are not left entirely in suspense about her history. From several incidents in this chapter we infer that she lived in the City of Nain where our Lord raised up the widow's son. Furthermore, we are told that she was a sinner; that means here, she had abandoned herself to a life of sin and impurity, and finally, it seems quite probable, judging from the precious quality of the ointment used, that she was a person of some wealth and fortune. What fixes our attention most is that she was a sinner, and a penitent sinner at that. What was the precise character of her transgression we are not told; but whether she had been an adulteress, or, being unmarried, had yielded to her depraved dispositions, and was leading a life of criminal voluptuousness, one thing is certain, she had reason to weep and lament. If she was guilty of the former,--adultery, unfaithfulness to her own spouse,--what opinion must a woman form of herself that has committed this offense? And if she was guilty of the last-named transgression, prostitution, no tears could have been too bitter. Human words fail to describe the condition of a woman who has arrived at such a depth of dissoluteness as to eradicate every degree of modesty, hand herself over to infamy that overthrows the whole social life, and converts mankind into a state of putrefaction and decay. If there is one offense that is calculated to become a perpetual source of sorrow, piercing the heart with thousand arrows of sad reflection and remorse, fixing daggers in the souls of loving parents, and covering one's family with public disgrace, it is the offense which defiles the most sacred and inviolable relation of human life. And however it may be done, we ought never to speak of such crime in the way of extenuation. Holy Scripture characterizes such not as pitiable, but as criminal, not as imposed upon, but as deceiving, not as corrupt, but as corrupters, the only course for whom is to do as this penitent, prostrate themselves in tears at the feet of Him who will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax. These introductory remarks point to us the topic which shall employ our further contemplation this morning. We have considered the first great enemy of our souls, the devil, that wicked spirit who walketh about seeking whom he may devour, and the second, the world, and now we come to the third, the flesh, in contemplating which _we shall note a few of the most prevalent forms in which it manifests itself_, and secondly, _how we may overcome it_. May God grant His divine blessing! There are topics, my beloved, which if a minister treats of them, he will be regarded indelicate and forward, and which if he does not treat of them, he will be charged with timidity and neglect of duty. His course, however, is clear. As a faithful steward of divine truth, he must declare the whole counsel of God, irrespective of criticism and fear, lest any man's soul be required at his hands. No diligent attendant of God's house will have failed to have marked the reigning note in the Epistle readings of the last Sundays. That note is a call to purity and sanctity of life. "Abstain from fornication,"--"But fornication and all uncleanness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints, for ye know that no whoremonger nor unclean person hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God,"--solemn words, and not superfluous words either, as little now as then, or since the beginning of man's sinful career. We turn to the pages of Holy Writ,--what is it that brought on that most terrible calamity, all except eight persons going down in the waters of a universal flood? The sacred volume answers: "When man began to multiply on the face of the earth, the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair, and took them wives of all which they chose. Then it repented the Lord that He had made man," and the judgment was let loose for destruction. What was it that caused Sodom and Gomorrah, the cities of the plain, to go down in fire and brimstone? The still gurgling sea of salt and death gives back the answer of its brutality and uncleanness. What caused the twenty and three thousand to perish in one day, their white carcasses to strew the wilderness sand? Moses tells us: fornication, sensuality, and impurity. And who is not bent with grief as he reads of David and of Solomon? And the hearts of mankind are as full of impurity now as then, in thoughts, words, deeds, and dress. There are spectacles to be seen in places of amusement, there are reports to be read in our public prints, which indicate little or no improvement, though decking themselves with the name of Christian and moral. What St. Paul wrote: "It is a shame even to speak of these things which are done of them in secret," is still true and too true, alas! of some professed Christians. Fire, my beloved, is a most valuable, an indispensable agent of the human race. What would we do without it? But fire must remain within bounds. Woe if it overleaps them! Then it becomes a terrible and destructive power! Man's body, likewise, is a great and noble instrument, a fine handiwork of God, with powers for good; but it must remain within its bounds, it must always be kept as a servant in subjection. Woe to man's happiness and the welfare of others when it overleaps its legitimate bounds, and the servant becomes the master, a tyrant, and a destroyer! "I keep under my body and bring it into subjection," says Paul. Our great business as Christians is to learn to control our body, its lusts and desires; to subdue and master it, to bring it into a pure and honorable service, above and beyond its own miserable gratification. "Dearly beloved," writes St. Peter, "I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts which war against the soul." Yes, back in the days of Mount Sinai, God voiced His will in words of fire and thunder on stony tablets: "Thou shalt not commit adultery," which means we are to lead a chaste and decent life in word and deed, and each curb, guard, and control the sinful desires of the flesh. Nor is this unchastity, the overstepping of the proper relation between the sexes, the sinful indulgence of man's lower nature, the only temptation that comes from the flesh. From the long list enumerated by the Apostle in his letters we shall select one other. That is _intemperance_, the too free indulgence in stimulating drinks. Nor can it be questioned that a word in this respect is occasionally in place. The history of strong drink is the history of ruin, of tears, and of blood. It is perhaps the greatest curse that ever scourged the earth. Other evils have slain their thousands, but this has slain its tens of thousands. It is simply impossible to picture the crime of which it is the cause. It is the Mississippi among the rivers of wretchedness. It is an evil which is limited to no age, no nation, no sex, no period and call of life. It has taken the poor man at his toil and the rich man in his palace, the statesman in the halls of legislature, and the workingman on the street, the preacher in the pulpit, and the layman in the pew, and plunged them into a common ruin. Since the time that Noah came out of the ark and planted vineyards and drank of their wines, nearly five thousand years ago, we see the foul and murderous track, destroying some of the mightiest intellects, some of the happiest homes, some of the noblest specimens of man. It has supplied every jail, penitentiary, almshouse, and charity hospital with inmates, and flooded every city with bestiality and crime. It empties the pockets, disgraces the character, brutalizes the affections, brings disease to the body and poison to the intellect. It does infinitely worse,--it bars the soul out of heaven; for thus it is written: "No drunkard shall enter the kingdom of heaven." Such is the result of appetites indulged, what it means when the flesh gains the supremacy, when a person turns himself over to become a slave of his lusts and excesses. Nor let any one say as he looks upon such a miserable victim of this vice: "I shall never be like him." God grant that we may not, but "let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." The drunkard once thought the same. No one can be certain that he will not yet fill a drunkard's grave, unless he learn and employ the lessons which God has given us to overcome this enemy, the flesh. And which are these lessons, and how may this enemy be overcome? We shall mention two. The first is this: "Keep thy heart with all diligence." Our enemies are not only without, they are within. It is our Savior who remarks: "Out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adultery, fornication," and other shameful sins. And the enemies within are the more dangerous, just as a traitor in our city is worse than the enemy without the walls. So, then, our first attention must be given to that. Keep, _i. e._, watch, garrison the heart. How? Keep from thoughts and purposes of sin. As long as we live in this sinful body, in the midst of a perverse generation and unchastisement, our eyes will behold scenes, our ears hear language, our imagination suggest pictures that are impure and lewd, but it's for the Christian to watch that such gazes of the eye do not become purposeful, not to permit the imagination loose reins and range, that unvirtuous thoughts are not indulged in, but repressed; as Dr. Luther expresses it: "You cannot prevent the devil from shooting arrows of evil thoughts into your heart, but take care that you do not let such arrows stick and grow there." The young Christian, who buys a ticket to the average theater, with its abounding sensualities, has no right to complain if his imagination is impure. Can any one take coals of fire into his bosom and not be burned, handle pitch and not be soiled? The man and woman who delight in reading lewd books, sensational, spicy newspaper reports, who gaze upon indecent pictures, suggestive sights as they are euphemistically termed, who listen to smutty stories, evil communications, foolish jestings, as St. Paul calls them; the woman who mixes in loose company, dresses indecently, and allows the thoughts to dwell upon any subjects which connect with such sin, need not wonder if the heart is invaded and influenced with unholy sentiments, and fleshly appetites run riot. Guard your heart, what transpires therein, and what enters in, with all diligence. It was a wise man, in fact, the wisest of all men, one who, speaking from own sad experience, gave this advice. Heed it, my dear hearer, heed it! And, again, the second lesson furnished by the holy Apostle is this: "Walk in the spirit, and ye shall not fulfill the lusts of the flesh." There is a mine of wisdom in that. Our religion not only tells us what not to do, it also tells us what to do; it is not only negative, it is positive. There are two ways of dealing with temptation. The one way is negative, the other is positive. "Thou shalt not commit adultery," that is negative. We are to eradicate vice, that is positive. The effectual safeguard against drink is not prohibition. Neither the most cunningly devised laws, nor the most unrelenting persecution of liquor dealers, nor any other device of man can arrest this terrible evil. To successfully combat it, to make the poor victim a worthy and honored member of society, requires some stronger and firmer basis, some more controlling motive than mere earthly considerations. "Put on the Lord Jesus," is St. Paul's plain direction, "and make not provision for the flesh to fulfill the lusts thereof." The eye that has gazed upon the cross of Calvary with penitence and faith, the heart that has been regenerated by the washing of the Holy Ghost, and in whose soul is diffused the Spirit of God, and who strives to walk in the Spirit, he, and only he, can escape the temptations of the dreaded serpent of intemperance. And so, whatever the habit, you cannot wrestle successfully with a vicious habit, unless you cultivate a higher and different taste, a love for the things of God's Spirit. Life, to be safe, must stand for something, not simply against something, must express itself in the spirit, not simply suppress itself in the lust of the flesh. From away back in the past comes to us a voice, the voice of a young man who, when tempted by the dark-eyed adulteress in Egypt, said: "How, then, can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?" Oh, that the young and the old would let these words of Joseph incessantly ring in their ears! A positive attachment, devotion to God will prompt us to be and to do what He wants you to be and to do, and as it inspires you to do what is right, it keeps you from doing that which is wrong. And here again, to conclude, in our combat against this enemy of our soul we cannot stand upright unless we have some mightier power to sustain us. We know as Lenten Christians whence this power flows. How can any one who has looked up to that divine Sufferer in faith crucify Him anew by unholy living? The thought of what He has done for us, the love that prompted Him to shed His holy, precious blood for our sins, will restrain us from falling a victim to this insidious and wicked enemy. The Lord grant us repentance over past falls, gracious forgiveness, and strength! Plenteous grace with Thee is found, Grace to cover all my sin; Let the healing streams abound, Make and keep me pure within. Amen. FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT. Woe unto the world because of offenses! For it must needs be that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh!--_Matt. 18, 7._ It has grown a custom with us to regard on this particular Sunday some particular phase of sin. Now there is a sin which very many people think little about; that is the sin of making others sin. They feel that they are accountable for their own sins, the sins of their hands, tongues, and thoughts, but as to responsibility for what others have done, they feel no guilt that belongs exclusively to them. And yet, when one reflects on the matter; when we consider how we are all bound up with one another, what influence we exert, what our words and deeds cause others to do, how, without our knowing it, others have taken our example to encourage themselves in what is wrong, thinking they could not go wrong if following in our steps; when we reflect that the first sin committed in the world was the sin of making others sin, that of the devil tempting Eve to disobey God, and that the first evil consequence of man's fall was that Eve, when she had sinned herself, was to make her husband sin also,--we begin to realize that it is a real sin, and a common sin, the sin of making others do wrong; nor can there be any doubt or mistake as to our Lord's judgment concerning it. Our blessed Savior, in the course of His ministry, denounced woes upon other sins. He said: "Woe unto thee, Chorazin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida! Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Woe unto that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed!" But when He said: "Woe unto the world because of offenses!" He qualifies it; He bitterly adds: "For it must needs be that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh! It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea." It could have been no ordinary occasion, it can be no common sin that could have drawn from the merciful lips of our Redeemer, that could have wrung from His loving heart, so tremendous a condemnation. Let us regard, then, _I. In what way we may cause others to sin. II. How we may prevent it._ May God's Spirit make the words spoken profitable and instructive to every one of you! Causing others to sin may be done in two ways: by direct temptation and by evil example. Sin loves companionship; having done wrong themselves, men look for others to do wrong with them. There are but few sins that men can do alone. They require some one to sin with them. There is nothing an infidel loves so much as when he can gain the ear of some unsophisticated person to fill his mind with ungodliness and infamy. The vile libertine never gloats more in fiendish glee than when he can, by flattery or love of dress and amusement, make some innocent girl the tool of his debauched sensuality. It seems the delight of some to teach others the habit of taking God's name in vain. What shall we say of those foul brothels that, like poisonous mushrooms, pollute our cities, leading men's steps down to the house of the strange woman; what of the conventional drinking-houses and pool-rooms and gambling dens, the haunts of profanity, intemperance, and profligacy; what of the playhouses with their usual performances, beautifying vice and placing a low estimate on marriage and morals? What are those but just so many places and occasions of direct temptation to sin? And those who conduct and foster them are under the condemnation of this text. What are they but vultures that feed on the carrion of sin, making men's lusts and depraved animal passions a source of ungodly gain? No words would be a more truthful sign to place over the entrance of such places than these of Matt. 18, 7: "Woe unto the world because of offenses! For it must needs be that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh!" But this is not the only way in which men may transgress this text. There are, be it said to the credit of our race, men who have not much scruple about doing wrong themselves, but who have not so far lost nobleness and generosity of mind as not to shrink from directly tempting others who are as yet free from guilt. They think little of the sin themselves, still they would not have others share their bad experience. However, though they would not like to bring on their souls the sin of directly tempting others, they forget what judgment they are heaping on themselves by their evil example. And here it is that we are all more or less concerned. It may be well to observe that in the paragraph preceding our text the Lord is speaking of little children, and so, we may consider, first, the responsibility of parents. There are but few parents who do not desire to bring up their children well, and to this end are careful to teach them to be truthful and honest, pure, gentle, and unselfish. But of how little avail to teach these things as theories and principles when the example which parents set is precisely the opposite to their teaching! When the head of the family commands his children to attend divine service, but himself does not, what, in fact, is he teaching but to stay away? Or does he think for one moment that the children are so foolish as not to reason thus: If it were really my duty to go to church, would not my father go himself? Why do what my father fails to do? Or if the wife and mother is seen by her offspring to practice deception in little things, resorts readily to untruth, is not "in" when she is "in," and the like, how quick they are to notice it, and grow up to think that truth and honesty are to be held as theories, rather than practiced as virtues. Nor need we restrict it merely to the home sphere, it applies to every other, school, college, workshop, friendship. Without limit is the effect of unconscious example. We uttered it as a mere joke, or what we styled as a harmless way of getting out of a difficulty, but the falsehood we uttered has stuck, and taken root in some one's mind near us, and blossomed into a full-blown way of lying, which he says he learned from us, and defends by our example. Because when we were young, we looked up and trusted and admired some one, a teacher, a friend, on account of their attractiveness, or brilliancy, or personal magnetism, we imitated them, and that, perhaps, in things not at all commendable. And what we have done and do, others in time do with us. The minister who will tell his members and catechumens, You must mind only what I preach and not what I _do_, is a caricature and disgrace to his office. The religious teacher of the Sunday-school who goes to places of frolic, and is seen by his or her pupils, or by the grown sisters and brothers of these pupils, who then defend their presence there because they, the teachers of religion, were there,--such teachers are dropping evil seed which strengthens others in wickedness, and do well to examine their conduct and character under the sharp lens of this text. The young man or, for all that, he, too, of advanced years, who is seen seeking his couch in the late hours of night, or the small hours of morn, apart from his family and the companionship of reputable associates, may also reflect how this is likely to affect the honor and peace of the home, and serve as an example for others. Enough has been said, I take it, to make plain what is meant. And is this a sin to think little of? Let us awake to our responsibility! No man liveth to himself. The moral impulse, the influence we exert, the example we set, God holds us answerable for them. What, then, to come to the next particular, shall we do if we have become guilty in this respect? I was once told of a man who on his deathbed had something on his conscience which greatly disturbed him. He had not been a bad man, from the world's standpoint, and it was only a boyish freak. What he related was this: "I was going across a common one day, and I saw a sign-post at the crossroads, pointing the way to two different places. The post was old, the sign easily removed, and so for fun I took down the arms and changed them, so as to make them point to the wrong roads. It was a foolish thing, but of late years it has continually haunted me. And now on my deathbed it greatly troubles me to think how many a poor, weary man crossing that common I have sent on the wrong road." Beloved, this is a parable of life, nor leave it till you are on your deathbed. Think if by your example you have ever sent any poor fellow-creature toiling across the common of this life on the wrong road, the road which leads to destruction, instead of the narrow way which leads to heaven! Think if by any example of yours you have removed the guiding post which would have led the man aright had you not pointed out the wrong way, and if your conscience accuse you of this, repent of your guilt and ask God honestly and humbly for His forgiveness. That is the first thing we ought to do. And, in the second place, we must give most careful heed to ourselves. One thing we must never forget: we are Christians, Christ's disciples, and concerning His disciples, Christ says: "Ye are the salt of the earth, ye are the light of the world." That is their distinctive property, their mission. Salt is an active principle; it works, and purifies, and diffuses its saltiness. So, too, it behooves us, by speech and pen, by example and influence, by suffrage and legislation, by every agency in our power, to set ourselves against the social sins of our land and age,--intemperance, Lord's day desecration, uncharitableness, lewdness, insubordination, which, like cancers, have fastened themselves upon the moral and religious life of our nation, and are fast destroying its vitality. We are to be a salt, a savor of moral health to all who come into contact with us, and a light, so the Savior directs. "Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven." We had respect to the evil example of parents,--why, correspondingly, should it not make for good? We find not uncommonly that the child catches the words, nay, even the tone of voice which he has heard his father use. Will he not be still more likely to catch his other habits?--to be mild and kind, sober and industrious, if the manner and behavior of his father are marked by mildness, kindness, sobriety, and diligence? And so in all deportments. They are familiar lines, fraught with deep thought: Lives of great men all remind us, We can make our lives sublime, And departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time. Let's leave some such footprints, some stimulating, ennobling influence and example, around and behind us. These, then, are the truths presented by the text. Let them be seriously and deeply considered. May God by His grace deliver us from the bitter "woe" of having given offense, causing others to sin, and grant us wisdom and power to turn many into the right way through faith in Christ Jesus, the Savior of sinners. Amen. FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. When I see the blood, I will pass over you.--_Exodus 12, 13._ The one grand theme, the central, all-pervading subject of the Bible, from beginning to end, is redemption by the blood of Christ. It matters not who held the pen, whether Moses in the land of Midian, or David in the mountains of Israel, or Daniel in the court of Babylon, Paul, a prisoner at Rome, or John amid the bleak rocks of the Isle of Patmos,--one golden thread runs through all their records. Just as in an orchestra the various notes and chords of the musicians' instruments express the one central idea of the composition they are rendering, so whatever chords are touched by the hands of the holy writers in God's Book, one keynote vibrates, that is, _salvation through the blood of the Lamb_. "The blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanses us from all sin," is the testimony of St. John. "Ye know that ye were redeemed by the precious blood of Christ," is the plea of Saint Peter. "Justified by His blood," is the Gospel of St. Paul. And the voices of heaven blend with those of earth, for thus is the saints' eternal song: "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain and hath redeemed us to God by His blood." And this is the Church's theme on this particular Sunday, as it reads in the Epistle: "Christ by His blood hath obtained eternal redemption for us." The past Sundays in Lent have we been seeking to learn what sin is and what sin does; how could we more appropriately spend this service than to consider how we may be saved from sin, and in that may the Scripture selected profitably aid us. Eight times had Pharaoh's hardened heart brought sorrow upon the people of Egypt. As one calamity after another was fulfilled, he seemed softened for a while and willing to comply with God's command to let His people Israel go, but no sooner was the pressing plague removed than he again defied the Lord of heaven. And now the tenth, the last and most dreadful and desolating of visitations, was to be sent. The king and his people are informed that, if Israel were not allowed straightway to depart, the first-born in every home shall, at one and the same hour, be slain. But before the destroying angel started on his sorrowful mission, the Israelites were directed to kill a lamb, to take its blood and besprinkle therewith the headpiece and the two sideposts of their dwellings. This was God's sacred mark. Wherever that crimson sign would appear, the messenger of judgment was to pass over and spare. It was as told. At the hour of midnight the avenging angel swept over the land. All the first-born were slain. Not a house where there was not one dead. In Pharaoh's palace and in the pauper's hovel, stricken hearts bewailed the countenance of their eldest suddenly darkened by death. Only in the houses of the Hebrews there was security and peace, because the blood was on their doors. Such is the simple historical event connected with our text, designed by God to foreshadow a far greater and more important event, an event that was to bear upon the whole race of man wherever, whenever, and however found. Three leading thoughts are suggested thereby: _I. All men, like the inhabitants of Egypt, are exposed to the destruction and penalty of death._ _II. A means of escape has been supplied._ _III. One condition that connects with that escape._ And may God's Holy Spirit work enlightenment and conviction! That man, to take up the first point, is exposed to destruction and death, is the clear and abundant testimony of Scripture, and it tells why. "All have sinned," it says, and, "The wages of sin is _death_." "The soul that sinneth, it shall die." And is there a single heart among the sons and daughters of Adam that dare offer remonstrance? Since the time that the first human pair, smitten by the sense of guilt, hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden, and their first-born son, with his hands reddened by a brother's blood, declared that his punishment was greater than he could bear, down to the ignoble disciple who, after selling the life of his Master for filthy lucre, unable to bear the upbraidings of conscience, went and hanged himself, the consciousness of having broken God's Law and exposed one's self to the righteous displeasure of the great Lawgiver, has haunted and pained man everywhere and at all times, and filled him with a fear which all his own efforts and every human appliance is powerless to remove. Why go farther than our own selves? Is there a person here who can declare that never for a moment has his soul's surface been disturbed by feelings of regret, who can truthfully affirm that he has never known what it means to experience remorse for duty neglected, for wrong spoken or done? We have sought on previous Sundays to drive home to your conscience the terrors of the law on matters of the Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Commandments; and do you mean to say that in a review of your past life you have no slightest pain of self-reproach along these lines? If not, then your spirit has been cast in a different mold from all others, or your memory and conscience are both fast asleep. I take it that all are ready to acknowledge not only that there is a law, a law written in God's Word, as well as in your own hearts, but that we have also broken that law time and again, and thereby--to quote the familiar words of our Catechism--"have we exposed ourselves to God's wrath and displeasure, temporal death, and eternal damnation." This is the A B C of Christianity. And is there a way of escape, as in the case of Egypt's death and destruction? no possibility of its being said: "I will pass over you"? Ah, it is here that we come to the heart and center of our holy religion, its pith and core, its Holiest of Holy. Sprinkled upon the headpieces and the two posts of their doors was the blood, God's own sacred mark. A lamb, none over a year old, none with the slightest taint or blemish upon it, was made to yield up its life in sacrifice to secure that blood. Need I inform you what that typified, of whom that lamb was a type and shadow? That unblemished lamb of sacrifice referred to Christ, "the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world." That innocent blood which turned aside the angel of death foreshowed the blood of Christ, who through the Spirit offered Himself without spot to God. Yonder upon that post with its two beams, reddened by crimson drops, is the fulfillment, the realization, of it all. Simple, is it not? God, by the application of a coat of blood upon its homes, could redeem Israel from the avenging stroke. It was not for any among them to speculate about it, to doubt and refuse it. To do so would have meant disaster. Only in that blood was security, safety, and deliverance. There are many these days who are offended at the blood doctrine of the cross; they will have none of it; it's puerile to them. They know not whereof they speak. It reflects Heaven's profoundest wisdom; it was thus, and only thus, that the authority and dignity of God's Law could be maintained, and yet the transgressor pass unpunished. The supreme, the perfect and sinless Lawgiver Himself, even the eternal Son, bearing the penalty in the room of those by whom it had been incurred, and on whom it must otherwise and most justly have fallen,--this is the only way in which peace could have been reinstated between God and man, deliverance made possible. And this, even this, is the great burden of the Gospel message, the only balm of peace to the troubled soul, the only solid ground of hope for another life,--without which all in this world would be darkness, disorder, and despair. Imagine a prisoner under sentence of death in his lonely cell; the last morning sun he ever expects to gaze on streaming through his grated window, and the sound of busy hammers erecting his gallows ringing in his ears, and, then, unbar the bolts of his prison, and instead of leading him out to execution, put into his hands the Governor's pardon, and bid him go forth and enjoy till life's latest time the best and sweetest it can offer. Or think of a crew of voyagers on a dark and stormy sea, a fearful hurricane above, all around perilous rocks and quicksand, and the vessel threatening every moment to part asunder below,--think of them wafted all at once into a peaceful harbor and landed on a hospitable shore. Figure yourselves placed in such and kindred perilous circumstances, and followed by a like happy deliverance, and you will still have only a dim shadow of the glorious and blessed reality to which our text points. Far more terrible than bodily bondage, more appalling than death of the body, is the terror and the doom that attends a soul exposed to the extent of God's wrath and destruction, and from that--deliverance, safety, and escape through the blood of the Lamb. There is, however, one point still that practically and to each of us is the most important of all. It is not said simply: "I will pass over you," but, "When I see the blood, I will pass over you." It was not enough that the paschal lamb had been slain. Nor was it sufficient that the Most High Lamb merely purpose to spare them as His chosen people. If they would escape the calamity that was to fall upon their heathen oppressors, they must sprinkle the blood of that lamb openly on the posts of their doors. And even so it is not enough that God will have all men to be saved and come unto the knowledge of the truth; not enough that the Lamb of God was slain to take away the sins of a guilty world, unless that blood is sprinkled by faith on the heart, unless, in other words, Christ is taken by each separately and individually as his or her Savior. It is faith which forms the grand connecting link between the priceless blessings of redemption and the perishing sinner's soul. What avails it to the wretch who is being borne down by a rapid current nearer and nearer to the fatal cataract to throw him a rope if he will not grasp it? Or what to him whose dwelling is in flames, to place a ladder for his rescue, if he will not so much as step upon it? Even so, what will it serve any of us, but only fearfully to heighten our condemnation, to be told of the great salvation, and have that salvation pressed on us in almost every form of persuasive appeal, as the only means of escape from death and destruction, if we still refuse to it the homage of our hearts, and deem ourselves perfectly safe without, and treat it as an idle tale? Christ's blood has been shed, but before it can work its wonders, can stay the arm of divine Justice uplifted to smite, that blood must be sprinkled, too; and the reason why it is not sprinkled on some, why it is not sprinkled on all who have heard of it, why all such do not feel in their hearts and display in their lives its cleansing, sanctifying power, is, and can only be, their willful, stubborn unbelief. How it is with you whom I am now addressing it is not for me to say. Those only who are thus marked have any right to count themselves to the Lord's people, and to set themselves at the Savior's table. Let us hold, not as a dry doctrine, but as a blessed truth, that apart from Christ's blood there is no salvation. Let us fix our hearts with deeper and more prayerful love on Him; let it be ours with a glow of spiritual fervor, a joy with which nothing else will compare, to confess: My hope is built on nothing less Than Jesus' blood and righteousness. Amen. PALM SUNDAY. And God said unto Jacob, Arise, go up to Bethel, and dwell there, and make there an altar unto God that appeared unto thee when thou fleddest from the face of Esau, thy brother. Then Jacob said unto his household, and to all that were with him, Put away the strange gods that are among you, and be clean, and change your garments. And let us arise, and go up to Bethel; and I will make there an altar unto God, who answered me in the day of my distress, and was with me in the way which I went.--_Gen. 35, 1-3._ The passage before us refers to a very interesting part in the history of Jacob. To escape the fury of his brother, Esau, whom he had deprived of the patriarchal blessing, Jacob, at the proposal of his mother, Rebecca, flees to the house of his uncle, Laban. On the first night of his journey he dreamed he saw a ladder reaching from earth to heaven, angels ascending and descending upon it, God standing at the top; and God also speaks to the poor pilgrim resting on a stone beneath. He assures Jacob that He was the Lord God "of Abraham, thy father, and the God of Isaac." He promises to give the land of Canaan to his seed, to render his offspring illustrious and innumerable as the stars of heaven, and finally, in one of his descendants, to bless all the families of the earth; and to accommodate Himself still more to the condition in which Jacob then was, He added: "And behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this land; for I will not leave thee until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of." Deeply impressed with this vision of God's presence, Jacob arose. But before he proceeded upon his journey, he vowed a vow, saying: "If God will be with me and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father's house in peace, then shall the Lord be my God, and this stone which I have set for a pillar shall be God's house, and of all that Thou shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto Thee." Twenty years had passed since that occasion, years of hard service and vexation, when Jacob resolves to return home. He crosses the Ford of Jabbok, where he wrestled with the Angel, and comes to Shalem. Here he buys a piece of ground, builds an altar, and lingers for seven or eight years; he was now enjoying the delights, the comforts of home and of plenty. God had fulfilled His engagement with him to the letter,--He had been with him and defended him, led him back to his country in peace and prospered him, who had had nothing but a staff in his hand when he fled before the face of his brother, until he was now two bands. But where is now his vow, where his altar, where the tenth of all his possessions, as he had promised? Nor does he show the least disposition to redeem, to perform it; and so it becomes necessary for God Himself to stir him up; and thus reads the first verse of the text: "And God said unto Jacob, Arise, go up to Bethel, and dwell there, and make there an altar unto God that appeared unto thee when thou fleddest from the face of Esau, thy brother." From this little piece of history let us seek to derive some instructive observations, and pertinent with this Sunday, the character of which is well known to you. First, we may note how soon the influence of impressive scenes wears away, how quickly we lose the sense of God's mercies, and the religious feelings they produce. If a person had seen Jacob on the morning after his vision, when he was leaving the spot made sacred by his experience there, and had said to him: "God will accomplish all thy desires; He will guide and keep thee, and bring thee back enriched and multiplied, but thou wilt live year after year unmindful of thy vow," he would have exclaimed, "What! is thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing?" How were the Israelites affected when God appeared at the Red Sea? They sang His praise, they resolved to distrust Him no more. They said, "All that the Lord commandeth us will we do." But they soon forgot His words and the wonders He had shown them. They murmured, and they rebelled time and again; all their vows and promises were written in the sand, and the first returning wave of trouble washed them out. If some kind of spiritual device, after the manner of our present day, could be invented to secure our feelings in certain periods and conditions of life, so that we might afterwards review them and compare ourselves, what revelations it would disclose! Like a sieve, full while lowered, but, when raised up, empty and dripping, or like water, which has a natural tendency to be cold, if it has not a perpetual fire below to keep it warm, so do we constantly need means and helps; so necessary is it to have our minds stirred up by way of remembrance; and as we learn from our text, God also does that. He reminds His people of forgotten duties. Various are His ways of doing so. One of His principal designs are afflictions. When difficulties are upon us, it is then that we remember former deliverances and vows, and our ingratitude in not keeping them. Another such witness and monitor is man's conscience, which accuses the transgressor, and often presses a thorn into man's side. Ministers of the Gospel are also God's remembrancers. Their business is, not to bring strange things to your ears, to entertain you with novelties or speculation, but their calling is to remind you of things you already know. As St. Peter writes: "I will therefore put you in remembrance of these things, though ye once knew them," and St. Paul says: "If thou put the brethren in remembrance of these things, thou shalt be a good minister of Jesus Christ." And our text furthermore shows us that good and pious characters give heed to these reminders. There is where we perceive a difference between Christians and others. Christians, it is true, are encompassed with faults and infirmities, they may err; they may fall, but there is in them a principle which secures their rising again. A man who is only asleep is easily distinguished from one who is dead; the difference will appear as soon as you try to wake them; the one remains motionless, the other stirs and springs up. The branch of a tree may bend down to the earth under a pressure, but remove the load, and it is upright again. When our Lord looked only upon Peter, "he went out and wept bitterly." Jacob here does not argue the matter with the Lord. He does not seek to excuse himself. Thus reads the second verse: "Then Jacob said unto his household, and to all that were with him, Put away the strange gods that are among you, and be clean, and change your garments." Here we may stop a moment to emphasize the truth that there may be wickedness in a religious family. We find "strange gods" even in Jacob's, the patriarch's, household, and we may view such a condition in two ways,--first, as a good man's affliction, and also as a good man's own fault. An affliction it certainly is to behold wickedness in one's family. It is bad enough to have bodily sickness and ailment in the house, but it is immensely worse to have sin, the plague and pestilence of the soul. But, could we see things as God sees them, could we trace back effects to their cause, we would ofttimes not be surprised at the disorder and wickedness which prevails. How many masters of families resemble Eli, whose "sons made themselves vile, and he restrained them not,"--or David, "who had never displeased Adonijah at any time in saying, Why hast thou done so?" Others, again, have provoked them to anger, till they are discouraged; while they preach humility and meekness in words, they practice pride and passion by example; while they send them to receive the nurture and admonition of the Lord at the hands of others, they rarely or ever recommend religion by their own personal behavior,--and they then wonder at irregularities in their households. Rather ought they wonder at their own folly in seeking "to gather grapes of thorns and figs of thistles." Observe Jacob here, he would not go alone, but calls upon his family, and all that are with him; everybody must attend. And thus our religious interest should not be confined to ourselves alone, we must bring our families along with us to the exercise of devotion. In our own families we possess authority and influence, and this authority and influence we are to employ for religious as well as civil purposes. God holds us answerable for it. There is nothing more lovely than the members of a family going to the house of God in company. Such families are nurseries of their churches, and it is with delight that a minister addresses a hopeful audience made up of a number of amiable, orderly, serious-minded families. But oh! how it pains one to see you separated, and coming in alone,--the wife without the husband, the father without the son, the mother without the daughter. Reflect on these things, my beloved. It is sometimes said that so few of those who make their confirmation vow remain loyal. To me it is inspiring that so many do remain loyal when you consider the influence and the atmosphere in the homes they come from. Never a Christian word escapes the lips of the mother; all kinds of political, secular newspapers and books are daily read, never a line of God's Word or a church-paper. All sorts of time set aside for visits and trivialities on God's day, never for divine service. There remains yet the third and last verse: "And let us arise and go up to Bethel; and I will make there an altar unto God, who answered me in the day of my distress, and was with me in the way which I went." Jacob arrives at Bethel, he looks around, he discovers the stone, now covered with moss, which, twenty-eight years ago, had served as his pillow. What feelings must have throbbed through his soul! what shame! what joy! And he fulfills his vow, erects an altar, does God honor and service, and gives the tenth to Him of all he possesses. The application of all this? To you who have this day laid down upon God's altar your vow of allegiance, let Jacob be to you an example of warning. God greatly disapproved of Jacob's delay, his forgetting and breaking of promise, and, as we heard, he himself suffered by it,--wickedness, strange gods, had gotten into his household. Vastly more noble than his conduct was that of the woman who one day appeared in the temple leading by the hand a lad, and, presenting him to the high priest, said: "For this child I prayed, and the Lord hath given me my petition which I asked of Him. Therefore, also, I have lent him to the Lord; as long as he liveth, he shall be lent to the Lord." You know who he was--Samuel, afterwards Israel's high priest and judge. May you prove to be Samuels brought hither to the temple, become useful members. It is only thus you may glorify God. Or, those who, perchance like Jacob, have neglected their vows, who blush to recall them, let them take this episode to heart, strive with the aid of that God who called Jacob's vow to remembrance to fulfill their engagements; following the patriarch, may they say: "Let us go up to Bethel," that means, to the house of God. The Lord grant you Christian courage and determination! Amen. EASTER. Marvel not at this, for the hour is coming in the which all that are in the graves shall hear His voice, and shall come forth; they that have done good unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation.--_John 5, 28. 29._ "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ." These solemn words, pronounced at the most solemn time, at the close of man's earthly career, are familiar words, and each Lord's day do we confess in words equally as familiar: "I believe in the resurrection of the body." In that committal and confession we say much. We voice a belief that is peculiarly, distinctively Christian. Natural reason, assisted by some light lingering in tradition and borrowed from the Jews, was able to spell out the immortality of the soul; but that the body should rise again, that there should be another life for this corporeal frame, was a hope which has been brought to light by revelation only. When natural man hears the doctrine the first time, the mere natural mind marvels. The next thing it does, as the philosophers at Athens, when Paul preached it unto them,--it mocks. "Can these dry bones live?" is still the unbeliever's sneer. The doctrine of the resurrection is a lamp kindled by a hand which once was pierced. It is linked with the resurrection of our blessed Lord, and is one of the brightest gems in His crown. Throughout the writings of the holy apostles do we find them giving great prominence to this truth. The Apostle Paul, as he describes the Gospel by which true believers are saved, says: "I deliver unto you first of all that which I received,--how that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He rose again the third day, according to the Scriptures," and argues that, "if Christ be not raised," both your faith and our preaching are "in vain." In the early Church the doctrine of the resurrection was the main battle-ax and weapon of war. Wherever the first missionaries went, they made this prominent that the dead would rise again to be judged by the Man Christ, according to the Gospel. It is, indeed, the keystone of the Christian arch. Let us, then, to the honor of Christ Jesus, the Risen One, regard this article of our faith so prominent in the Easter thought of man, observing _I. The certainty of the resurrection_, _II. its results_. "The hour is coming," saith the Savior. Those words spoken by the Mouth of Truth express certainty. There are some events which may or may not be. Kingdoms and the great powers of the earth may stand or they may fall, their throne broken into dust and their might wither like autumn leaves. Events which we suppose inevitable may never come to pass, another wheel in the machinery of Providence may make things revolve in quite another fashion from what our puny wisdom would foretell. There is nothing certain on this earth, in fact, but uncertainty. But the resurrection is certain, whatever else may be contingent or doubtful. "The hour cometh," it surely cometh. In the divine decree it has been so unchangeably fixed. "The hour," saith Christ. I suppose He calls it an hour to intimate how very near it is in His esteem, since we do not begin to look at an exact hour of an event when it is extremely remote. An event which will not occur for hundreds of years is at first looked for and noted by the year, and only when we are reasonably near it, do men talk of the day of the month, and we are coming very near it when we look for the precise hour. Christ intimates to us that, whether we think so or not, in God's thoughts the day of resurrection is very near. He would have us think _God's_ thought about it, not reckon any time too distantly and the event far away. This, too, is practical wisdom, to bring close up to us that which is inevitable, and to act towards it after a manner as though it were but to-morrow when the trumpet might sound. And most significantly does our Lord speak of that "hour." He calls it "the hour." We read of hours that have been big with the fate of nations; hours in which the welfare of millions trembled in the balances; hours in which the die was cast for peace or for war; hours that have been called "crises" in history. But here is the culminating crisis of all, the master, the royal, the august hour that is coming. Every second, every swing of the pendulum, every beat of the heart of time is bringing it nearer; silently, surely, we are drifting along the river of time to the ocean of eternity, and there is nothing to stop the constant flight. We pass on. "Marvel not at this; for the hour is coming in the which all that are in the graves shall hear His voice." "All that are in the graves,"--by this term is meant, not only all whose bodies are actually in the grave at this time, but all who ever were buried, though their bones may have mingled with the elements, been scattered by the winds, dissolved in the waves, or merged into vegetable forms, all who have lived and have died--all these. All! What a numberless number! Think of the inhabitants of this world at the time of the flood, more numerous then than now when men's numbers are so terribly thinned out by death! Think from the time of the flood onward, of Adam's vast offspring! Nineveh, Babylon, and Chaldea, and Persia, and Greece, and Rome were enormous empires of antiquity. The Parthians and Scythians, and Tartars, and Goths, and Huns in the Middle Ages, what teeming hives of humanity; and our present communities and nations, what a numberless band! Think of Ethiopia and the whole continent of Africa; remember India and Japan and the land of the setting sun; in all lands great tribes of men have come and have gone to rest in their sepulchers. What millions upon millions lie buried in China this day, a country of 400 millions. What innumerable hosts are slumbering in the land of the pyramids, embalmed in Egypt of old. And every one, all who have ever lived of woman born,--not one shall be left in the tomb. _All_,--all the righteous and the wicked; all that were engulfed in the sea; all that slumber in the lap of the earth; all the great and the humble, all the children of luxury and the sons of toil; all the wise and all the foolish; all the beloved and the despised. There shall not be one single individual omitted, nor you, my dear hearer. As surely as you sit here this morning, so surely shall you stand before the Son of Man. You shall not be forgotten; your departed spirit shall have its appointed place, and your body, which once contained it, shall have its place, till, by the power of God, it shall be restored to your spirit again at the sounding of the last trumpet. It is a wondrous truth, and yet, as the Savior directs, "marvel not at this," so as to doubt it, though you may marvel at it and adore the Lord, who shall bring it to pass. And so it continues: "All that are in the graves shall hear His voice." Yes, that ear that was buried a thousand years ago, and of which there was not the slightest relic left, that ear so long lost in silence, it shall hear--hear the almighty voice of that God who made man's ear at the beginning, who makes the ear of the newborn babe now, and is able, according to the working whereby He is able to do all things, to renew and refashion the ear, and hearing it shall start up, as the next words say, "shall come forth." It is not in the power of man's speech or imagination to conceive what a spectacle it shall be when, as the heavens are passing with a great noise, and the elements are burning with furnace heat, the angels are sounding the arrival of the great day of Judgment, we shall see the multitudes in the valleys of the dead rising up from land and sea, from mountain top and deep ravines, swarming up a great and countless number before the bar of their Judge. Ah, what a sight it will be! What a wonder! And how will they look? you may naturally inquire. In answer I would say on the basis of God's Word: Like themselves. To each one will be given "his own body." Our resurrected body, whatever it may exactly be and however different and superior it will undoubtedly be to our present body, will yet in some way be identical with our present body, and it will so far retain the appearance and individuality of our present body that in that future resurrected body we shall easily be recognized by those who knew us, and will be known as the same distinct personalities which we are now known to be in our present body. "Though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." We pass on to weigh the results. The text goes on to say: "And shall come forth, they that have done good unto the resurrection of life, and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation." From this we gather that the whole family will be divided as it is even now, indeed, into two, and only two, classes of characters: "They that have done good," and "they that have done evil." Who are those who have done good? By nature no one is "good." We are all sinners. There is none righteous, no, not one. The best of us are unprofitable servants. We can only be "good" in our way, and that is by having the goodness of another, the goodness of Christ set down to our account. Then, when we are thus joined to Christ by faith in Him, we shall, from principle, strive to do good. Good, my beloved, is a word that may be measured according to those who use it. The "evil man," the unpardoned sinner, may "do good" in his sense and the sense of the world,--good to you, to his child, his wife, his friend, but he has no care for God, no reverence, no esteem for the great Lawgiver. Therefore, that which may be good to you may be ill to God, because done for no right motive, even perhaps done with a wrong motive. It depends upon what position I occupy towards my God and Christ that determines on the Day of Resurrection, and that position is either for or against Him; there is no middle, mixed, or mingled character. I am either a pardoned sinner or an unpardoned sinner, and my destiny will be accordingly. And what will that destiny be? Either "life" or "damnation." "Life" does not mean here mere existence; for both will exist, and exist forever, the "evil" and the "good." But "life" means happiness, joy, rapture, bliss; in fact, it is a term so comprehensive that it needs no small time to express all that it means. As for the other, theirs shall be a resurrection to damnation; their bodies and souls will come under the condemnation of God,--to use our Savior's word, "shall be damned." We are shocked at the very sound of the word. We may well be so; we should be ten thousand-fold more shocked, if we really knew what the word fully means. It is vain for us to describe it, and we are loath to describe it. It were better for such that they had never been born, never awakened. From so terrible a portion, from Thy wrath and from evil damnation, good Lord, deliver us! We have thus seen, first, the certainty of resurrection, and secondly, the results. It remains, in conclusion, to draw one or two lessons from the text. The first is a lesson of consolation. We are frequently called upon to stand beside opened graves; some of you have stood there lately. What comfort for our wounded spirits is such meditation: to never mourn with regard to the souls of the righteous because they are forever with the Lord. The only mourning that we permit among Christians concerns the body, and here God's Word offers us the assurance: Weep not as though you had cast your treasure into the sea, where you will never find it again. You have only laid it by in a casket, whence you shall receive it again brighter and more beautiful than before. Thou shalt look again with thine own eyes into those eyes which have spoken love to thee so often. Thy child shall see thee again. That departed friend and father and mother, having loved his Lord as thou dost, shall once rejoice with thee in the land where they die no more. It is but a short parting; it will be an eternal meeting. Forever with the Lord, we shall also be forever with each other. "Let us comfort one another," says the apostle, "with these words." The other lesson is that of self-examination. If we are to rise, some to rewards and some to punishments, what--let each conscience ask--what shall be my position? Where shall I stand? That depends upon what your life and your life's principles have been. What has it been? To amass wealth? To procure honor? To provide for your family? If so, it has been deficient. Life's object and duty is to prepare for life, for the resurrection unto life. And to prepare for that, you must undergo a resurrection right now. There is as great a difference between men now as there will be hereafter. At present we have all living bodies, but in those living bodies, what is the state of the soul? There are in some living bodies living souls. There are in other living bodies souls that are dead. And that dead soul must be resurrected to life, or salvation is out of question; and that resurrection must take place _now_; it is too late hereafter. It takes place when you now give heed to that same divine voice that shall start the dead into life, the voice of Christ Jesus in His Gospel and Church. "He that believeth on Him hath life, and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death unto life." Easter calls for a rising up to spiritual life now, that it may be a resurrection unto eternal life, when all the dead shall come forth from the grave at the voice of Him who this day so gloriously arose from the tomb. May we be partakers of both! Amen. FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. But when the morning was now come, Jesus stood on the shore; but the disciples knew not that it was Jesus.--_John 21, 4._ The last chapter of the Gospel of St. John takes us back to some of the scenes and circumstances of Christ after His resurrection. The immediate text portrays to us how seven men come slowly and thoughtfully down to the narrow beach, enter a boat, and push out a little way from the land. They are clad in the coarse garb of Galilean fishermen. Their faces are bronzed by exposure to the wind and the sun; their hands calloused from dragging the dripping net and pulling the laboring oar. But they are men destined to hold the highest mark among the great teachers of mankind. Foremost among them is Simon Peter, fiery soul, as ready to smite with the sword as to weep in sorrow at a look from his Lord. After him follows John, the gentle and loving, who leaned on His Master's bosom at the Passover. Then comes Thomas, the slow and distrustful, so honest in his doubts and so yielding in his confession. Then James, who was the first to seal his faith with the blood of martyrdom. Lastly Nathanael is mentioned, the upright and guileless, whilst the names of two are withheld. Says Simon Peter to this number: "I go a-fishing." The rest join in, and soon the crew sets sail for the higher waters, but with no success. The long hours pass in fruitless toil; day creeps into evening, evening into night, night into morning, and still they cast and cast, and catch nothing. At earliest dawn a figure appears on the beach, and a voice is heard speaking to them. The text tells who it was. For some reason, as our text states, they do not distinguish Him. Perhaps it is because they are not expecting Him, and it is still morning twilight, and they cannot see distinctly, or, what is more probable, because some change has come over His risen body like that which on Resurrection Sunday had prevented Mary Magdalene and the two disciples journeying to Emmaus from readily recognizing Him. Taking Him, quite probably, to be a fish-dealer, one of those who daily came out at dawn from the town to meet the boats and make their purchase, they hear a voice coming to them from the dim shore, saluting them,--to translate the question into our English idiomatic equivalent, Boys, what luck? "None," answer the weary fishermen. Again the voice sings out to them, "Cast." No sooner done than their net was filled with fishes. And then at once, by a spiritual instinct, rather than by the vision of his eyes, John knew who this stranger was, and said to the rest, "It is the Lord." Whereupon, "When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he girt his fisher's coat unto him, (for he was naked,) and did cast himself into the sea." It is this beautiful incident that we shall regard in a few phases, in accordance with this season and practical life. In the first place, let us note that the resurrected Lord revealed Himself, and still reveals Himself to us in the midst of our daily work. The Lord came to these men while occupied with the toils and duties of their trade. Many are the instances in which it has pleased God to show His special favor to persons while earnestly occupied with their ordinary callings. David was summoned from the care of his father's flock to be Israel's king. Elisha was following the plow when called to be Elijah's successor. It was to faithful shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night that the angel choirs were sent to announce the birth of the Prince of Peace, and here, while the disciples were busily engaged in their familiar toils, it was that Jesus came and manifested Himself to them. Was there not something very instructive in this appearance at such a time? It showed that Jesus ratified their decision to be up and doing. It showed that He was present with them in the midst of all their work. It showed, too, that upon His presence depended entirely the success of their labors, for before His arrival they had caught nothing; their nets were only filled with seaweeds. It was through His direction and through His direction alone, that their nets at last were filled with fish. What a lesson this for all faithful toilers, whether on sea or on shore, the lesson that Jesus is with us in our daily tasks, whatever these tasks may be. We know that Jesus Himself once stood in the ranks of the world's toil. Many a day, for many a year, He wrought in the sweat of His brow in the carpenter shop at Nazareth. He thus stamped with the approval of His own example the work of every toiler, and showed the high dignity that belongs to all honest labor. By this manifestation of the risen Jesus to those fishermen of Galilee He sanctified and glorified the work of His children. Like that dim figure on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, Jesus stands over against us, watching us with eyes of sympathy, and waiting to bless us with His counsel and help. He has not changed. He is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. Let us not forget this glorious truth as we bend over our desks, or machines, stand behind sale counters, or move in household duties; the thought: Jesus is looking on, will shed its hallowed light upon the "common task," as it is styled, fill us with courage and cheerfulness, though our own work be irksome and hard, and enable us to do it faithfully, to quote the words of the apostle, "not with eye-service as men-pleasers, but in singleness of heart, as unto the Lord," who looketh on. Again, we note, Jesus revealed Himself to His disciples on this occasion, not only in the midst of their daily work, but in the _hour of their failure and disappointment_. They had gone forth to catch fish; but they had caught nothing. They were wet and cold, weary and hungry. And it was to these tired and disappointed men that the Lord appeared. He filled their nets with fish; He filled their hearts with the joy of His presence, nor did He forget their bodily comfort and needs, He kindled a fire upon the shore, and provided for them a welcome meal of fish and bread. And Christ's methods, my beloved, have not altered with the years. That scene on Lake Gennesaret is an allegory with a deep meaning for ourselves. It reminds us that our schemes and plans and endeavors, toil however hard we may, not infrequently meet with disappointment. We have perhaps all of us experienced what the poet says: Oh! it is hard to work for God, To rise and take His part; Upon this battle-field of earth, And not sometimes lose heart. He hides Himself so wondrously As though there were no God, He is least seen when all the powers Of ill are most abroad. Or, He deserts us at the hour; The light is all but lost, And seems to leave us to ourselves Just when we need Him most. And yet, to speak with the text, though we may recognize Him not, He is tenderly watching us from the shore. He has long since passed over to His glory. But while His disciples are yet on these waters, He keeps Himself near the margin, and looks down upon them in their toil. His great heart is with us all in our disappointments, difficulties, and disheartening endeavors, and in some way, at the right time, He will come, just as yonder on the Sea of Galilee, to help us. Let us believe that, and go ahead with our present duties, steadily, bravely, hopefully. Hopefully, I repeat; there is all the difference in the world between working with hope and without it. The sailor on the raft sinks into despair as long as there is no vessel in sight, but let a ship appear on the far horizon, and immediately he is alert, and seeks by every means in his power to attract the attention of those on board, if, haply, he may be saved. In the same way, if we lose the hope of Christ's help, we shall give up and break down. Let us hold on, no matter what we are required to contend against in the battle of life, in the Lord's cause, and rest assured that at length Christ will come to us with such strength and supply as will abundantly compensate us for the toil and worry. Let us believe that, or we shall fail in our undertakings. Nor only, to follow our text, in the midst of work and disappointment, but in the time of spiritual doubt and difficulty does Jesus reveal Himself. In those days the hearts of the disciples were burdened with many regrets and uncertainties and fears. In that stern of that very boat perchance their Master had often reclined, upon those same waters, and as they sat throughout those long and weary hours with the sails idly flapping, or plying the long, heavy oars, the waves splashing against the side of the boat, how these various sights and sounds must have reminded them irresistibly of One who used to be beside them constantly, and of the vanished happiness when they had been His pupils and His friends. That life of close companionship was ended now. Their beloved Master had been taken from them by wicked hands and crucified and slain. And, though since He had already appeared to them after His resurrection, and assured them of His living presence and power, yet He had appeared only to vanish away, and they did not know exactly how they were to think of Jesus, or what He would have them do. They were in a state of spiritual doubt and uncertainty, full of regrets for the vanished past, and with no clear outlook for the years to come. Jesus appears to them on this morning. They learn more fully who He was, and also what He would have them do. Immediately following this description is the interview He had with Peter, three times directing him, "Feed my lambs, feed my sheep." He was teaching them all the while a valuable lesson. Up to this time they had been in visible companionship with the Lord; He was now educating them into the thought that, though His visible form should be withdrawn, His personal presence would be with them still. In short, He was preparing them to believe the great truth, on which the very existence of the Christian Church depends, and which He announced to them in the words of His parting promise: "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the ends of the world." It is quite similar with believers now. Our faith is often sorely tried, we are "tossed about with many a conflict, many a doubt." We need those things; the Lord is thereby educating us, teaching us some lesson or lessons, so that our faith may become stronger, purer, and better. "Doubt," one has said who lived long ago, "doubt is the daughter of the devil." There is that kind of a doubt which is the sign of an enlarging faith. Of that sort was Thomas. How gloriously it was removed, and he the better for it! So with these men here, and so with us. Not seldom do we find a soul must be tossed all night upon a dark, tempestuous sea of doubt and misgiving before Jesus comes with the morning light to speak His word of peace, and to make all things plain. This leads to the last thought, _viz._, that Jesus reveals Himself to the eyes of those who love Him. We must not think that work, or disappointment, or religious doubt, in themselves, insure the vision of the Lord. On the contrary, it may be these things precisely that veil Him from our sight. Sometimes a man's work so absorbs his heart that he has no thoughts left for spiritual things. And sometimes worldly disappointments only make a man hard, bitter, and cynical, while spiritual doubt drives him into sheer unbelief and black despair. A certain condition of heart is needful in order that these things become blessings, the occasion of fresh revelations of the Lord. This narrative suggests which it is. It was John who saw Jesus first in the figure that stood on the shore, and John, as we know, was the disciple who loved Jesus most and best, and there was a real connection between these two facts. It was the love of John's heart, rather than the sharpness of his eyes, that enabled him to say, "It is the Lord"; for love detects the loved one afar off, and where others see only the indistinguishable figure of a man, it cries: "Nay, it is he himself." And love, my beloved, is still and always a great condition of spiritual knowledge. "He that loveth me," said Jesus, "shall be loved of my Father, and I will love Him and will manifest Myself to him." Often, like those fishermen of Galilee, we have to face life's duties and burdens with a dull and heavy heart; if there is love to Christ, He will appear to our faith, if not to our sight, filling our hearts with the joy of His presence and compelling us to say in wonder and delight: "It is the Lord." God grant that we may know Him in this life, so that when the morning of eternity dawns upon us, we may see Christ standing on the shore of heaven and hear His words of welcome. Amen. SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. So when they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these? He saith unto Him, Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee. He saith unto him, Feed my lambs. He saith to him the second time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? He saith unto Him, Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee. He saith unto him, Feed my sheep. He saith unto him the third time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? Peter was grieved because He said unto him the third time, Lovest thou me? And he said unto Him, Lord, Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee. Jesus saith unto him, Feed my sheep.--_John 21, 15-17._ It was on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. The first pale shafts of the rising sun were shooting across the eastern sky, revealing seven fishermen out upon the water in a little boat. All night they had been toiling, rowing and letting down their nets, but nothing had they caught. Disheartened by their fruitless toil, they were just about to give up further attempt when a once familiar form is seen standing upon the beach, and they hear a voice telling them to cast the net on the right side of the ship. They heed the direction, and the success which follows--a draught of one hundred and fifty-three fishes--confirms them in their belief that it was their risen Master who had given the command. Thereupon they drag the boats to shore, and find a fire of coals, and fish laid thereon and bread, whilst He whom all know to be the Lord, but whom none from holy awe dares ask, "Who art Thou?" bids them, "Come and eat." It is here that our text sets in--one of the most pathetic incidents in sacred story. To understand it properly, we go back in spirit to that scene in the high priest's palace when Peter, the bold and courageous, whose impulsiveness had caused him to promise great things, had shamefully and cowardly denied his Master in the hour of distress. Thrice had he averred that he knew not the man of whom they spoke, and aggravated his offense by denunciations and an oath. It was a grievous, a most terrible fall for the apostle, one that virtually excluded him from the circle of his fellow-disciples and from his holy office; and whilst it is true that he had wept in sorrowing repentance when the eye of his Master had met his insignificant look, yet the occurrence was such as to demand a personal heart-to-heart interview and setting aright. This interview took place on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, after the miraculous draught of fish. Everything tended to prepare the apostle for the holy scene. It was just three years before, at the same sea, after a similar miracle, that the Lord had established him in his ministerial office. The early hour reminded him of the morning watch, that fire of coals answered to that fire of coals in the palace of Caiaphas,--all of this must have touched Peter's heart to the quick, made him exquisitively sensitive to the scene that followed. The particulars of that scene we shall now ponder, regarding, _I. The examination_, _II. the charge_. When they had finished their meal, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?" Each designation is touchingly significant. "Simon, son of Jonas." Why not "Peter," the name He had Himself once bestowed? Because he had proved himself anything but a Peter, a rock man. It was not as Peter, as a rock, but as Simon, son of flesh and blood, that he had acted in denying his Lord. "Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou _me_?" Remembering what had occurred, how divine, how unspeakably tender a word! "Lovest thou _me_?" even Him whom thou didst say and confirm with an oath, "I know not the man," and more than these, as thou didst boastfully claim: "Although all should be offended because of Thee, yet will I never be offended." Truly, a rigid examination if accompanied by the same look that once brought tears to his eyes, calculated to cut down deep into his innermost soul. Moreover, the Lord repeats the inquiry three times, evidently as a reminder of the thrice shameful denial. And what does the disciple reply? Sad almost unto death, he would prefer to turn aside and give vent to his feelings in silent tears. But the Lord has put a question to him, and speak he must, and so he responds with great tact and deep emotion, "Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee." And the last time, with additional force, "Lord, Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee," as though he said: "Others may misjudge me, these brethren and apostles, those servants in the high priest's palace, but Thou, Lord, the Omniscient, knowest that I love Thee." And we may believe that it was so. On the day of Pentecost, when boldly confessing his Master in the face of thousands, until the day when, pinned to the cross in Rome, he at last made good his promise, "Though I should die with Thee, yet will I not deny Thee,"--in all this we have the evidence of that love thrice avowed. And has that original scene on the shore of the Sea of Galilee and that question no concern and no application whatever for us? No superfluous or unprofitable inquiry, my dear hearers. If the Lord were to appear personally in our midst this morning, look straight into your eyes, and, addressing you by your name, say, as He did to Simon, son of Jonas: "Lovest thou me?" could you answer as promptly, as heartily as the Apostle did, "Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee"? Or are there no tests by which to find out? It was written by a pious man, but it is poor, unchristian theology: 'Tis a point I long to know, Oft it causes anxious thought, Do I love the Lord or no? Am I His, or am I not? We need only settle down to a faithful and impartial scrutiny with ourselves to find out, "Lovest thou me more than these?" What "these"? Love, according to its object, has been variously classified. There is social affection, or love of friends. In spite of much that has been said about the fickleness of friends and friendships, there is no darker lot and no gloomier epitaph could be inscribed upon the monument of any man than that: "He lived and died without a friend." History gives us many noble testimonies of its strength and beauty. We think of the Bible account of David and Jonathan. Again, more beautiful and binding is the affection which subsists in the family circle. The bond that ties together husband and wife, that unites together brothers and sisters, brought up around the same domestic hearths, sharing in common joys and sorrows, how strong and enduring it ought to be, and especially that which exists between parents and the child. The recollection of a noble parent, of a devoted mother, time nor place nor change can ever uproot the affection from the heart. But, asks the voice of our text: "Lovest thou me more than these?" There is One toward whom we sustain a still nearer and holier relation, One whose care surpasses that of an earthly parent, and whose love is more deep and sublime and unfailing than a mother's, even He who has created you, redeemed you, and who crowns not only your life, but your whole eternity with His goodness. It matters not what, and hence you may embrace in that riches, honor, property, possessions, fame and name, or even self,--there is One who requires that all these should be held in subordination to a still higher, all-sustaining affection. "Lovest thou me"--is the question, "more than these," and where is the evidence? If you love a person, you will delight in the fellowship and company of that person. Love finds its greatest happiness in the presence of the beloved. The thought of a long absence is painful, or hopeless separation, intolerable. It is so with Him who asks "Lovest thou me?" Every opportunity of communion with Him the believer values as a privilege. The Word in which He speaks to him, the place in which He meets with him, the table which He spreads for him, these are his greatest delight, his favorite and fondest resort. Again, if you love some one, you will constantly aim to please that person. You will be considerate of his feelings, you will refrain from any conduct that might be displeasing, and strive in every possible way to be of service and help to his interests. It is none else with Christ. Consideration for Him and obedience to Him, and that as a pleasure and privilege, is a criterion of our love to Him; and this alone you will find where there is true attachment. The maiden that loves will think nothing of leaving a pleasant home to cast her lot with the man of her devotion. The mother will spend herself, unselfishly sacrifice her comfort, strength, and even life itself, for the objects of her affection, and this rule applies to the Christian sphere.--No man ever possessed true love for Christ who was not willing to lay down in sacrifice what he cherished highly. Here, then, are a few criterions, and now, with all sincerity, repeat the question once more, "Lovest thou me?" Lovest thou my Word, my house, my sacraments? Is my service thy delight? What sacrifice art thou bringing? Shall the Savior say unto thee as Delilah said unto Samson: "How canst thou say, I love thee, when thy heart is not with me?" Or are you able to say with the Apostle, "Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee"? May we all be brought to love and adore, with our whole, undivided heart, Him who loved us and gave Himself for us, and who is the Model and Source of all pure and ennobling lives. But there is yet another consideration for us to weigh in the text. Peter, making threefold confession of His attachment, is three times, after each answer, commanded, "Feed my lambs," "Feed my sheep." A desperate cause, in this passage as in a few others, wants to find a proof of Peter's supremacy. There is a certain pontiff who wears a triple crown--the tiara--upon his head, styles himself Peter's successor, and seals his briefs and documents with the "Fisherman's Ring," and he affects to rule all Christendom in virtue of the right conferred on that Apostle by Christ. But in vain do we seek the scripture for any such reference, and surely no such sense is implied here. That scene on the shores of the Sea of Galilee can by no means be interpreted to mean that Peter was being exalted above his fellow-apostles. Neither could we regard it as a reproof and abasement. None other had so sorrowfully forfeited his charge as Peter had, and it was not necessary to reinstate them. Where, then, is the exaltation? Nor is there any such a sense implied in the words themselves. "Feed my lambs," is Christ's direction. Romanism, you will observe, exalts the ruling; you can see that in such words as pope, cardinal, primate, bishop, prelate, diocesan, throne, and so forth. Protestantism emphasizes the "feeding." Protestantism makes much of preaching, Rome but little. Rome exalts the clergy, Protestantism gives prominence to the congregation. It is easy enough to decree and lord it over, it is not so easy to feed. And food is what a flock explicitly needs. It can live without edicts, it cannot live without food. Observe, also, the pronoun "my" sheep. The flock was not Peter's, it was the flock of Peter's Lord. The flock does not belong to the under-shepherd; it belongs to the chief shepherd. And did not Peter himself--and that is one reason why his letters are never read in the Romish Church--very strongly denounce the very things which it is asserted that Christ had invested him with: lordship over the Church, a separate hierarchical priesthood, and refuse such honors as are freely given to his successor? As Luther has well said: "Popery never drew its doctrine from the Bible, but uses it as a means to thrust upon the world an audacious system which has its origin somewhere else." Nor can we leave entirely unnoticed the difference the Lord makes between His people,--"Feed my lambs," and again, "Feed my sheep." Some of Christ's flock are lambs, lambs in years. Perhaps there are more lambs than sheep, more true members of Christ in the nursery and in the Sunday-school and in the Christian day-school than in the assembly of the adults, and these we are to feed, and it becomes those who are invested with the sacred office, and those who are supporting the sacred office, to dispense to them wholesome and health-sustaining spiritual food. Our responsibilities in this respect are great, and all the greater because the more secular knowledge would crowd out religious, the many things that are now regarded needful, and set aside "the one thing needful." "Feed my lambs," and, "Feed my sheep," says the Chief Shepherd. See that they get the proper food and get it in proper proportion. And "My sheep;" we are not always to remain lambs. Christian life is a growth. First the blade, then the ear, and then the full corn in the ear. First babes, and then we need milk; afterwards adults, and then we need meat. Alas! that, like the writer of the letter to the Hebrews, we are sometimes constrained to complain "that many of you who ought by this time be teachers, are yet needing again that one teach them the first rudiments of the oracles of God, having become such as have need of milk and not of solid food." This was a crisis in Peter's life. Hitherto he had been tended as a sheep, henceforth he was to tend as a shepherd. Having been converted, that is to say, having been turned again to his Master, he is henceforth to strengthen his brethren. What hinders us from doing likewise, pastors and teachers, educating, tending, and feeding the flock of God? This is the privilege of the laity, not less than of the ministry. When the laity really do their work, they, too, are really a ministry, true shepherds. But let us evermore keep in mind--which was the first part of our sermon--that the essential qualification, the principle of such service, as it is the only thing that will render your work delightful and carry you through all difficulties, is love to Christ, "Lovest thou me more than these?--Feed my sheep." Amen. THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. Neither do men, light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.--_Matt. 5, 15. 16._ The religion of Jesus Christ is the religion of everyday life. He touched the common things, and, like a magic wand, they changed into the finest gold. He went into the kitchen for a text, and transfigured the meal, the dough in the bread wrought into a parable of God's working grace. He went into the garden or the woods, and found a lesson in the springing seed and the flowers which carpeted the ground. "Consider the lilies," He said in His Sermon on the Mount. He went on board the fishing boat, and the nets become a picture of the kingdom of heaven. Here, in this immediate verse, our Lord steps into an Eastern or Oriental house for a text and speaks under the illustration of an article which is to be found in every home, of a candle, or rather, a lamp. The Apostle Peter, who was present at the original preaching, must have carefully noted the comparison, for he speaks in to-day's Epistle-lesson in nearly the same language as His Master when he admonishes his hearers to let people see their good works and thus glorify God. May we do likewise as we shall now regard, under God's blessing, the Christian's duty to let his light shine before men, observing, _I. How this is done_; _II. why it ought to be done_. Be it noted, my beloved, at the outset, that man, in and of himself, is not a light; he is darkness. Says the Apostle, writing to the Ephesians, "Ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye a light in the Lord." How did they get light? Not by worldly science and learning. Many are very learned and literate, and yet their souls are enwrapped in thick darkness and without hope in the world. And there are those who are illiterate, incompetent to read and write, who rejoice in this light as the star of their hope. In the eighth chapter of John the Lord says: "I am the Light of the world; he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." Jesus Christ, then, and He alone, is the one true Light. To have light, light unto eternal life, you must seek, embrace Him as your Savior, your Righteousness, the Propitiation and Reconciliation for your sins. You must recognize in Him the wisdom of God and the way to God. Here you have in what sense Christians are lights, _viz._, by Jesus Christ. The sun shines by its own inherent light, the moon by borrowed light. In itself a dark body the moon shines only because the light of the sun falls upon it and is reflected from it. Christ is the Sun of Righteousness, resplendent in His own glory, which He had before ever the world was. We have our light from Christ, the true Light, which lights every man, says the Bible, that cometh into the world. And what dispensation is made of this light? "Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick, and it giveth light unto all that are in the house." A candle or lamp under a bushel would be of no advantage to any one. A light locked up in a cupboard would leave the house in darkness. Correspondingly, we Christians are meant to be lights that can be seen. A man cannot be a Christian in secret. It is a delusion if a person thinks he might be a Christian privately for himself, that he need not associate with, join the church, or make a public confession of his faith. In the days of Christ many of the chief rulers believed on Him, but because of the Pharisees they did not confess Him, lest they should be put out of the synagogues. It is said of them that they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God, and had their reward. We, my brethren, as Christ's people, must not keep our religion locked up or hidden; we must not be ashamed of it, and we must not be selfish about it. If you believe in the truth of the Gospel; if you hold the doctrine of the Church; if you reverence the Bible; if you are given to prayer,--hang out the light, let others know it, put that precious lamp where others may share it. What use is there to tell us that such and such a person is a burning and shining light in the religious world, unless we can see his light shining before men? They are no more helps as guides than a lighthouse whose lantern is gone out; no one is the better for it. And this light is twofold; it is a light of warning, and it is a light of holy example.--A light of warning. If you look at a great railway station at night, you will see numbers of lamps, some showing a red, some a green, some a white light. These are all warnings to the many trains leaving or entering the station, and upon them depends the safety of hundreds of lives. If the signal man fails to show the red light when there is danger, wholesale destruction follows. Dear hearers, there are times when we are called upon to show the danger signal. If we see a relative or friend deliberately going into danger, taking a course which means ruin to his character, ruin to his soul, what is our duty? Are we to say, I am very sorry, and thus hide our light under a bushel? No, we must try to stop a brother from destruction; we must say a word of warning, kindly, tactfully, but firmly; we must say, For God's sake, stop! If you see an acquaintance imbibing too freely, frequenting the place at the corner, show him the danger, hang out the red light. If you see young people neglecting religious duties, slinking about after dark in bad company, going with those who bet and gamble,--let them go? No; try to turn them on a safe road; hang out the red light, the danger signal. I once read of a man who was engaged as a laborer on a railway. One stormy night, when he returned to his cabin, he found that a sudden landslide had occurred, and that part of the track was blocked where the express would pass in a few moments. Would he remain quiet and let the accident happen? What could he do to show the danger signal? He had in his cabin an old lantern lighted by a piece of candle, but that would not show the red light. Then, when the roar of the advancing train was audible in the distance, he seized a glass flask and with the broken neck cut into the veins of his wrist he let the blood color the lantern, and the candle shone through it with a dim red light, and this, scarcely able to stand, he held up on high, just in time to stop the express at the edge of destruction. Take that illustration for what it is worth, just so it impresses you with the importance of showing the red danger signal unto others. And so it is also with the signal light that is clear and white, the signal of holy example. Let that also shine. As we look carefully at our text, it would seem as if the Master had two spheres in mind when He spoke these words. We are told that when the lamp or candle is put in its proper place and doing its proper work, it gives light to _all_ in the house. There is nothing like household religion. Sometimes professing Christians are very bright and shining lights in public, and quite dark in private, in the home and family circle. The right sort of Christianity shows a pure, clear light amid the troubles, worries, and anxieties of home. It will not do for the wife to be a shining light in society or at the public meeting, and at home be fretful and unkind to her husband, a constant scold and a scare to her children, perpetually complaining and quarreling. It will not do for men to make brilliant speeches on the blessings and benefits of Christianity, if they show no example of it by the fireside. Take care of the home light; let it shine clear there, if anywhere. But not only there! A lady who was once asked to unite with a society of the church, no circumstances or other considerations preventing, declined, replying that she had a society to look after with which none compared. Which is that? "That society is my family." There was truth in that; the family is the chief society. Parents are to exercise a Christian example in the home. Christian discipleship, like charity, begins there. But it does not end there, nor is it restricted there. "No man liveth unto himself, neither alone unto his family." He belongs to his country, to his church, to the world, to mankind at large, and has duties toward them. "Ye are the light of the world," is the language of the Savior. What will men not do to gain followers for a party in politics and otherwise! And in matters of salvation, Church, Gospel, eternal life, we should be timid, silent, diffident, shy, reluctant to open our mouths and assert our convictions, stand aside, and place our convictions under a bushel? Surely, that's not letting the light shine. So much as to the nature and mission of this spiritual light. In conclusion, a word as to the blessedness that attends it. This blessedness, in part, affects ourselves. Blessing others, we are blessed. Gaining others, we gain. I think here, by way of illustration, of the two travelers who, plodding along through snow and bitter cold, discovered a man lying by the roadside frozen and numbed. Said the one, "I cannot stay here to attend to this fellow, I must take care of my own life." The other, like the good Samaritan of old, remarked, "I cannot pass on without having made some attempt to restore him," whereupon he set about to rub him with all his might. His efforts were rewarded; after a little while the unfortunate man opened his eyes, and, arising, went with his rescuer. What surprise was theirs when, passing along, they saw the man who had selfishly and heartlessly continued his way, lying frozen to death. The good Samaritan, by his labor of love, had stirred his blood into intense circulation, and thereby saved his own life. Spiritually it is just that way. Seeking to win others for eternal life, we win eternal life for ourselves. Our faith is strengthened, charity increased, we are blessed in our deed. And this is the second consideration,--our Father in heaven is glorified. That is the great thing we must aim at in everything we do in religion. In this center the lives of all our actions must meet. We must not only endeavor to glorify God ourselves, but must do all we can to bring others to glorify Him. We have considered a grand spiritual truth, our exalted position and calling. Conscious of it, may we shed forth the beams of illumination for the lightening and the brightening of a dark and gloomy world, receiving supply from the true and only Light, Christ Jesus, until we shall dwell in the world where God Himself is the Light and where we shall shine as the stars for ever and ever. Amen. FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. Teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.--_Col. 3, 16._ We read in the 28th chapter of Genesis that when Jacob, the patriarch, was fleeing from the wrath of his brother Esau into the land of Mesopotamia, while resting at night upon a stone for his pillow, he had a wonderful dream. A ladder extended from heaven to earth, angels ascending and descending upon it, and God, standing at the top, spoke to the heartsore traveler beneath. That vision was highly typical. The ladder was a symbol of the intimate connection that existed between him and the God of his fathers, Abraham and Isaac; the angels ascending and descending, were a symbol that his prayers and sighs had come up before the heavenly throne, whilst the words of the Almighty were a guarantee that his journey would take a prosperous end, and cheerfully, we are told, did the patriarch take up his pilgrim staff and resume his route in the morrow. Now as it is with all things we find written in the Old Testament, so with this also. We have the reality of what Jacob experienced in dream only. The ladder which now extends between heaven and earth, connecting us pilgrims or strangers with our heavenly home, that ladder is Jesus Christ, man's Mediator, who declares, "I am the Way; no man cometh unto the Father but by me."--The word of the Almighty, then spoken, we have, greatly amplified, in this divine revelation, this holy volume before us; nor are the angels, these celestial messengers, missing to carry on communication and intercourse between God and sinful man. Figuratively and symbolically speaking, these angels stand for all those agencies, exercises, and accompaniments by which the soul is lifted up to heaven and God, and by which we are spiritually helped and edified, and it is one such holy agency and accompaniment of sacred truth that we wish to consider in these moments of devotion. St. Paul speaks in our immediate text of "teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs." Let us regard these words, and may ours be the same confession as Jacob's at Bethel: "How venerable is this place! This is none other but the house of God and this is the gate of heaven." "O sing unto the Lord a new song, for He hath done marvelous things." "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, sing forth the honor of His name, with the harp, with trumpets and the sound of cornet. Praise ye the Lord." These are the words of the 98th Psalm of David, and it was with this Psalm that the service began, in the ancient Church, on the fourth Sunday after Easter. The name of the Sunday is Cantate, which means "Singing Sunday," and probably there is no time in the course of the civil church-year more appropriate to raise one's voice in rejoicing and heart-felt song. In nature a new era of revival and tender growth has gone forth; the earth is clothed with loveliness, refreshed with energy, and from birds and blades, from flowering buds and a tender branch goes up a joyful melody and proclamation to their Creator; and when we come into His sanctuary, the house of His Word and His worship, and reflect on the blessed Easter scene from which we are just coming, we have reason to tune our voices in strains of loudest and loveliest anthems, and an appropriate and beautiful thing it certainly is to bring this noblest of human arts to the aid of the soul in its communication with God. Since time immemorial has the power of music been acknowledged over the heart of man. "Let me make the songs of the people," said a celebrated statesman, "and I care not who makes the laws." An illustrious Greek philosopher was not far wrong when he stated that the human soul was closely allied to rhythm and harmony, and we know that the Court of Rome feared the sacred hymns of Luther as much, if not more, than his publications and fiery eloquence. Turning to the Holy Scriptures, we observe a constant recognition of music in the Old Testament and in the New. Standing on the shores of the Red Sea, Moses, the man of God, chants forth the gratitude of his people after their safe deliverance from Egypt's bondage in song, whilst Miriam, his sister, responds with timbrel and dance. David, the anointed shepherd boy, takes his harp and charms into tranquillity the ferocious spirit of Saul. Elisha, when he would prophesy, calls for a minstrel, and under his playing the prophet's heart grows warm and his lips eloquent with a message from God. And where do we hear of more magnificent renderings than in the temple at Jerusalem, thousands of voices organized in costly choir to chant with accompaniment of complete orchestra, the psalms written by their monarch, David, called the sweet singer of Israel. Cherubim and Seraphim are incessantly praising God in thrice "Holy to the God of Sabaoth," and angels' choirs filled the midnight stillness of Bethlehem's plains. Add to this Zacharias' _Benedictus_ and Mary's _Magnificat_, which have lent their hallowed inspiration to ages since in the Christian Church, and if there is one scene which impresses every reader of his Bible, and to which he looks forward with pure delight, it is the worship of the Lamb in Revelation, the joining of the celestial choir in hymns of endless melody. Desiring to bear our part in that tuneful service, can our lips be silent on earth? Nay, music is one of God's good and perfect gifts, of which to-day's Epistle speaks as coming down from above. True, like all other good gifts to man, it has been seized upon and perverted for evil purpose by the enemy. Satan it is who has levied upon music and made sad havoc in the line of song. But shall we abandon to him the territory? Shall we not make reprisal upon the enemy, consecrate to the divine Giver His first-fruits? And unquestionably, in the worship of our Lutheran Church, hymnology has a larger and a more correct province than in any other body of Christians. I have listened to various music, I have heard entranced the melting tones of the _Miserere_ in early mass at the Catholic Cathedral, the sweetly attuned antiphons of a vested Episcopal choir. I have listened to solos and quartets, accomplished tunes, composed by masters; but what do all these solos, superbly rendered, amount to when in God's worship the congregation itself sits mute in its pews, deprived of every response, as in the Catholic Church, or too indolent to respond, as in many others? Is it Christian, is it churchly, is it consistent with our text or the spirit of true worship, that ninety-nine tongues of a hundred be silent in the house of the Lord? When the minister turns to the people and says, "The Lord be with you," is he supposed to address only four singers and an organist? No, my dear hearers, praise is the duty and privilege of all the people, and to deny or stint them in a share in it is to wrong their souls and insult their Maker. A well-tuned solo is good, the chorus of the choir is better, but best of all is the response and song of the entire congregation, sending up its confession and praise to the God of heaven. There is nothing more solemn and pleasing to the Lord of Sabaoth than a singing congregation, and nothing more dull and spiritless than singing wailed forth in melody calculated to freeze the last spark of holy fire upon the altar of the heart. Having emphasized which is the best form of songful worship, that by the congregation, let us regard it a little more closely. The singing of a congregation of worshipers is, as it were, the preaching of the congregation, is the confession which it renders on its part and in behalf of its faith, is the Amen which it places upon the words and utterances of the preacher. The most important place, it must ever be maintained, in a truly evangelical service, is the exposition, the setting forth of God's Word. A worship consisting exclusively of singing, commonly called a Song Service, is an innovation in Lutheran church life, and a very questionable one at that. The object of our attendance at church is not to hear "sweet music,"--this can be better answered at the concert or the oratorio,--honest Christian people come to hear God's Word, to build up their souls in divine truth. The sweetest tune sung by the lips of angels or of man cannot replace the least passage of the Bible, for it alone is the power of God unto salvation. Christianity is not rapturous ecstasy, super-induced by fine melody, not emotional feeling; Christianity means repentance and faith. There is nothing, no symphonies and oratorios, no strains, that can bring peace and rest to a sinner's heart, but only and solely the simple words of the Lord received and believed. The sermon, then, occupies the central position of the worship, just as the sun is the center of the solar system, and, in turn, determines the true place of the song and music. It is the noble handmaiden, preceding and accompanying the preaching of the Word, the sweet odors which carry our devotion and sacrifice upward to heaven, in harmony with the utterance of the speaker. It is thus we value our hymns as the finest ornament of our evangelical worship, and nothing is more significant than to find in your homes the Christian hymn-book lying upon God's Book. And what does a careful survey of that hymn-book reveal to us? We would not from any feeling of denominational pride detract any from the grandeur of hymns originated in dissenting bodies, many of which are embodied in our hymnal, but if there is one church whose voice swells out loudly among the hymnody of Christendom, that can look with satisfaction on its collection of sacred songs, it is our beloved Lutheran Zion with its stately and majestic chorals, its incomparable anthems. There is about our hymns a spirit of divine power; they are the expressions of our Christian faith, church-hymns in the fullest and best sense, not only inspiring and devotional, but educating and instructive, designed to lead us in our way to salvation and heaven. Take, for instance, the various seasons of the church-year: Advent, expectant and exultant over the coming of the Savior of man; Christmas, what hymns will compare with those of our church in childlike simplicity and depth of feeling? Passion-tide, with its solemn lines: "O Bleeding Head and Wounded," "O Lamb of God Most Holy;" Easter-tide, with its stirring hallelujahs. How doctrinally sound are our hymns of faith, how cheering our hymns of praise, how touching the melodies of penitence and death! Referring to our text, we find the first requisite for a correct church-hymn is this: to bring God's Word closer to us. The Apostle says: "Teaching." Our hymns will stand the test of this standard. In the days of the Reformation they were one of the most beneficial means of winning hearts and conquering lands for Bible truth and Bible Church. Many a priest, history records, was sung down from the pulpit and out of the church by the congregation joining in a Lutheran hymn, and later, in the dreary days of Rationalism, when man's folly was put in the place of God's wisdom, it was these church-hymns which still afforded spiritual food to the children of God, and till this day, wherever those tried and heavenly true hymns resound, we can cheerfully be persuaded that they assert their influence in making men wise unto salvation. Nor are they merely calculated to instruct, but also to cheer and inspire. There is scarcely another power that will ease the heart, strengthen and sustain the lagging and downcast spirit, as will a heartfelt "Commit whate'er may grieve thee," and kindred hymns. In the darkest moments of his life, David tuned his harp and bade sorrow and grief flee. In Philippi's dungeon, at the hour of midnight, Paul and Silas raised their voices in melody of praise. After days of bitter conflict and labor the Reformer would produce his lute, and sing unto the Lord a pleasant song, to the joy of the angels and the chagrin of the devil. Gustavus Adolphus, Sweden's valiant hero of the faith, who fought and died for religious liberty, never entered a battle without prostrating himself with his army before the Lord of heaven and singing, "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God," "Fear Not, O Little Flock, the Foe." Sacred story tells us of Saul, that whenever the evil spirit came over him, the king would send for David, and under his tune find relief from his torments. Nor has the spiritual song lost any of this soothing element. "The singing of songs and hymns purifieth our thoughts," says a church-father, "represses sensuality, stirs the heart to pure emotions, awakens a love and a longing for the beauty of holiness, moves to holy contrition and godly sobriety." No wonder that Luther ranked music next to theology of pure religion, effectual as it is in warding off Satan's suggestions, and aiding us in becoming better and more noble, and hence, in harmony with this Sunday, Cantate, we are justified in bringing this topic to your consideration, especially in our times, which are replete with so much vain and shoddy music, senseless and overwrought travesties, often set to tunes that are a perfect scandal and shame upon all divine worship, and better suited for the opera than for the house of God. Let us rejoice in this good gift God has bestowed upon us, and diligently use it in our churches and homes until it shall be our happy lot to join the multitudes of those who shall raise their voices to pour forth their everlasting song, and cause the city of God to ring with anthems of perpetual worship. Amen. FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance.--_Eph. 6, 18._ Among the things that people believed in olden times was a certain stone, called a touchstone. By means of this stone it was claimed one could determine whether a gem or a precious piece of jewelry was genuine or not. The sham diamond might glitter ever so brightly, the sham gold externally deceive the eye, let the touchstone be applied, and its real character would at once appear. Spiritually, in religion, there is such a touchstone by which those who profess to serve God can discover whether they are genuine Christians or not, whether their religion is pure gold or inferior metal, whether their faith is a gem of great price or only worthless imitation, useless dross. That touchstone of true spiritual life is prayer, communion with his God, for as a man communeth with his God, so he is. How, then, does this touchstone apply to you? Are you a man, or woman, of prayer? What sort of Christian are you? Nor can it be said that we need no instruction on this subject. We must be taught to pray just as we must be taught how to write and talk correctly. Let us, then, in all simplicity, with plainness of speech and practicalness of purpose, consider. _I. When, II. where, and III. how we should pray_: and may God's Holy Spirit, the Lord of Prayer, attend with His blessing our meditation. There are many passages in Holy Scripture which seem to command impossibilities, and we tacitly pass them by as not intended for us. This cannot be a wise or safe thing to do, for God does not command impossibilities. So with the text, "Praying always." In other places we read, "Pray without ceasing," "Continue constant in prayer." Our first thought may be, That's beyond us. How, in this busy life of ours, shall we ever be able to give ourselves over to never-ceasing prayer? A few minutes a day, a special prayer occasionally at special seasons or special emergencies, that's about all we can afford. That is a mistaken notion of these texts of prayer. It is a familiar expression: "Prayer is the Christian's vital breath," the Christian's native air. We are always breathing. Ceasing to breathe means death. So with the spiritual life. For a person not to pray means spiritual death. Every one who is a Christian prays; not to pray stamps him as a non-Christian. And yet, as in the bodily sphere a distinction exists between breathing and using that breath for speaking, so we must draw a distinction between "prayer" and "saying prayers." A Christian, as he is always breathing naturally, so he is always breathing spiritually. He lives a life of prayer; he is always in such a state of faith and heart and spirit that he can lift up his heart in prayer. Even when we are silent, we breathe; even when a Christian is not "saying prayers," engaged in forms of worship, he is in a spiritual frame of mind, and is living a life of prayer. To pray always is to live as in God's presence, to be constantly conscious of Him. And still, true as it is that a Christian is always living a life of prayer, there must be times for prayer--times when we engage in "saying prayers." There is more in this matter of habit than many persons think. It means regularity, and makes it both easy and pleasant. There is no absolute rule on this subject, no technical limit. Each one must determine himself how often he ought to pray daily. David, in the Psalm, says, "Evening and morning and at noon will I pray." Daniel was accustomed to kneel upon his knees three times a day. There is, if we may so speak, a natural propriety in thus thrice addressing the throne of grace. Three times a day we are accustomed to feed our bodies, and this very act may suggest to us that our souls need similar attention. "Men shall not live by bread alone." We have our blessed Lord's example for it. The holiest and most fruitful Christian lives have been lived by men and women who thus prayed not less than three times a day. The early Christians were exemplary in the discharge of this duty. What Christian, arising from his bed in the morning, can neglect his prayer? Everything seems to invite him to lift up his heart unto God. When we arise from our beds, it is like a resurrection from the dead, and it seems almost impossible for a pious mind not to view it in that divine light, thanking God for his waking; and as he sallies forth from his home, not knowing what a day may bring forth, and feeling his weakness and frailty and danger, the temptation to which he is every moment exposed, how can he do it without first raising his eyes and thoughts on high, committing himself to the faithful Creator, and invoking His protection and strength? Moreover, knowing that everything is resting upon His blessing, he should invoke it upon the occupation of his mind and hands. Direct, control, suggest this day, All I may deign, or do, or say, That all my powers, with all their might, In Thy sole glory may unite. When we thus go forth into the world, it is with an atmosphere of devotion around us. And then again at night-time, when we have given all our strength to the work of our calling, tired and exhausted from the toil of the day, and our couches invite us to repose, who can look back on the blessings of the day without being moved to gratitude to Him who kept us safely through it? There was this and that of the day's transaction that deserves a calm retrospect in the sight of the Lord, confession of one's discrepancy and wrong-doing. And who can resign himself to sleep, the emblem of death, and to his bed, the type of his grave, without saying a few words of Christian committal? And who, during the day, cannot find a few moments to lift up his thoughts on high? Nor, beloved fellow-Christians and church-members, neglect to speak grace at your table; there are blessings, direct and indirect, which connect with that pious and time-honored custom which no household can afford to forego. Frequently the only time when the family meets during the day, it forms a link of spirituality between its members. It is no little means of keeping the devil out and bringing the dove of peace back. Permit not this grand old and well-tried custom to lapse into disuse; hold fast to it as a sacred heirloom transmitted from your godly parents. Thus have your fixed, established season of prayer. And it is good not only to have stated times, but also stated places for prayers. This is our second consideration: Where? You can pray anywhere. You can hold audience with God at your own option. The place is not essential to prayer. Peter prayed on the housetop, Paul in prison, Daniel in the lions' den, Jonah in the fish's belly. The Lord is everywhere, and His ears are always open to the cries of His people. But the law of association is the friend of religion. As you speed to your labors in the morning, as you sit for recuperation in the shade of one of our beautiful parks, as you are busy with your duties in kitchen and workshop, your heart can go out to God in devotion. And so it is well to have a little nook somewhere, a spot especially suggestive to us of prayer. There is help in this. Daniel had his spot, where, when he came in from the excitement of the court, he could kneel down and pray to his God. His window opened towards Jerusalem, not accidentally, but by special arrangement, and his eyes swept over the western hills until vision was lost in the distance; his imagination swept onward till he stood in the courts of the Lord's house on Zion's hill, heard its holy songs, and inhaled the incense that arose from its sacred altars. There is something dear to us in such a spot. Our Lord, in His direction on prayer, enjoins: "Enter into thy closet and pray." It was the custom of the Jews to have certain private rooms on the flat top of their homes which they especially reserved for devotional purposes. One such place you certainly ought to have. God in His Word calls our churches "houses of prayer." It is a significant title. Not only preaching ought to employ us in the holy place, for what profit is there in preaching, the best of preaching, if there is no outgoing of the heart to God? No singing, no music that has not in it the element of devotion can make melody in His ear. Prayer is an essential part of our service, at the altar and in the pulpit; and it ought to be in the pew. It is here at least, in God's temple, that the Christian soul ought to find a spot, and regularly, where, amid the distressing scenes of earth, it can come to itself, where it can feel and commune in the ear of God, where, lifting itself above the sordidness and the perversity of this earth, it can bathe in the invigorating atmosphere of a nobler world, and draw inspiration for the affairs of life, in a few moments of communion with a Higher Power. Let, I beseech you, this house be to you a house of prayer, and have a similar place in your own home. There's wisdom and great help in that. Having answered the _when_ and _where_, let us now note the _how_. By this we do not mean the posture in prayer, whether we ought to pray standing or kneeling; neither do we mean whether we ought to use a fixed prayer, committed to memory, or pray extempore, out of the heart, finding our own words. I do not think it is wise to use no form as a rule. Extempore prayers are apt to lack both orderly arrangement and fullness, and when weary or dull, or our thoughts are wandering, we cannot make prayers for ourselves,--we want to have a form of devout words put into our mouths. Those simple, yet stately prayers of our Catechism and hymn-book have been, and are still, the inspiration of thousands of the most devout of God's children. And yet, there is one danger. Using a regular form of prayer statedly may lead to listlessness and lifelessness. It is not only the Romanist who, counting his beads and making his crossings and prostrations, nor the Mohammedan, who at the priest's call from the mosque falls upon his knees, who does not pray, but the Protestant may say or read his addresses to God, and yet not pray. There is a difference between saying prayer and praying. Prayer, to be right, must be offered up in the spirit of prayer, and by the spirit of prayer is meant a devotional tone and temper of the mind and the heart. Reads our text: "Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit." It is the heart that prays, not the knees, nor the hands, nor the lips. To hasten over the words heedlessly, anxious to be done as quickly as possible, to do it because it's a custom, and perhaps with a superstitious fear that if we do not do it, something might befall us, is making a mockery of prayer. We ought to pray, but we must pray in earnest, with faith, reverence, sincerity, as if we meant it. As it has been expressed: God does not look at the arithmetic of our prayers, how many there may be; nor does He look at the logic of our prayers, how methodical and nicely arranged they may be; nor at the rhetoric, how beautiful they may be. What He looks at is the sincerity of our prayers, how earnest they are. And lose not the Spirit in your prayers; that is the one direction of to-day's text. And the other is, "Praying always with all perseverance," _i. e._, prayer must be constant, unceasing. The Apostle knew the defects of earth-born man, and, knowing, bids them to beware of being tardy in their prayer. There is a good reason why. Prayer is spiritual breath, we said. If a man's breathing is bad, if it is hurried, fitful, some mortal mischief is at work. Even so spiritually. If our prayers are hurried, if they are irregular, if we regard them as disagreeable duties, if they are not the natural and necessary consequences of our spiritual life, natural and necessary as breathing is to every living man, then that life is sadly weak and diseased. Why are we so weak in Christian faith? why so wayward and sluggish in our Christian life? Why have sinful habits such power over us? It is because we breathe, _i. e._, pray, so badly. How is it possible to work for God, or fight for Him, if we are tardy in holding communion with Him? Think it over, my dear fellow-Christian, and may it aid you in making you a man, a woman, of prayer! For what is a man of prayer? See yonder mountain. Below is its gigantic base; then your eye runs up the mountain side, and you see--what? That the peak is lost in the clouds. So is the man of prayer. His feet stand upon the earth, his heart is in the clouds; there is a something that keeps him in constant communion with God. There lies his strength. We call it "prayer." Amen. ASCENSION. So, then, after the Lord had spoken unto them, He was received up into heaven, and sat on the right hand of God.--_Mark 16, 19._ The Christian Church, from the beginning, has made the ascension of our Lord the subject of a special annual festival and service, and with excellent reason. The ascension of Christ ranks in importance with His birth, His death, and His resurrection. Strange to say, however, much less attention is given to it. Many are prompt and devout in noting and observing Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter, but when it comes to the glorious ascension, the heavenly enthronement of our blessed Lord, though furnishing equal cause for our gratitude and rejoicing, few seem to so regard it, and make little over its celebration. This ought not to be. Christ's ascension into heaven is one of the great foundation truths of our Christian faith, a part of the fundamental Creed. "He ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty," we recite in the Apostles' Confession. The ancient prophets spoke repeatedly of it, Christ, Himself, on several occasions foretold it, and the apostles and evangelists, most of whom were eye-witnesses of it, testify to it, and, moreover, it is also full of blessedness and precious consolation for those who enter into it with spirit and understanding, as one of the sick, after a sermon on Christ's ascension, preached by our missionary in the City Hospital, exclaimed, "Thank God for this precious truth of Christ's ascension!" The man was right. It is a truth full of strength for a Christian's faith, hope, and love, that it well behooves us to regard it, considering _I. Its significance for Him_; _II. its significance for us_. St. Paul, summing up the history of our Savior's life, says: "Without controversy great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up into glory." That is the last item, the capstone, as it were, of His life. His work upon earth was completed, the purpose for which He had come perfected; there was nothing for Him to do. "It is finished," He had spoken upon the cross. Moreover, He could not remain upon earth, and eventually die again as a man, for He had conquered death. What, then, was left for Him to do but to return where He had come forth, to ascend on high? This ascension was not a vanishing out of sight, as, for instance, when Christ vanished out of sight in the case of the disciples of Emmaus; nor was it a concealment of Himself, as He concealed Himself from the Jews in the Temple when they lifted up stones to cast at Him; nor was it a transfiguration of His body, as on Mount Tabor, when His face shone as the sun and His garment was white with light. By Christ's ascension we mean that Christ, according to body and soul, was taken up in a visible manner, by a true and local motion ascending into the clouds, so that now "body and soul" He is in heaven. We shall not speculate, throw up all manner of questions how this could be, but accept the statement of trustworthy, reliable witnesses, men of unimpeachable veracity, that so it was, and we know that it was not the only case of such heavenly ascension. The Bible records two others; the one occurred in the days before the Flood, when it states of Enoch "that God took him and he was seen no more"; and the other took place after the Flood, when Elijah, the prophet, was conveyed in a fiery chariot into ethereal realms. These Old Testament incidents were types of Christ's ascension. The ascension of our Lord stands out as an indisputable fact, witnessed by many. The exact time, place, and circumstances are all minutely given. Thus, what is the first particular of its significance for Him, it shows that He was the divine Being which the Bible states, that He was divine God blessed forevermore. And we rejoice at this elevation of His. How delightful it is to-day to lift up our eyes and behold Him who for our sakes became a babe in the poverty and humiliation of Bethlehem's stall, Him whose life was one uninterrupted series of woes, Him who was despised and rejected of men, whose head was pierced by the crown of thorns, and in whose hand was placed the insulting rod, who hung suspended from the cross,--how delightful to see Him worshiped by the host of heaven, conquering, triumphing, receiving the very honor that behooves Him as the true God. On this day we invite and unite with all Christendom in "bringing forth the royal diadem, and crowning Him Lord of all." As He once said to Nicodemus: "No man ascendeth up into heaven but He that came down from heaven, even the Son of Man, which is in heaven." The ascension of Christ is evidence that He was the God-Man, having come from heaven. Again, Christ's ascension shows that His work on earth was accomplished, and that He had done that work well. When our Government sends an ambassador to effect a treaty with a foreign nation, and on his return home this ambassador is received with public demonstrations of joy, and is accorded a seat of honor in the national capitol, this reception is proof that he has performed his mission well, to the satisfaction of the Government. The event which we to-day commemorate, this gladsome reception of Christ into heaven, this exaltation to the right hand of God the Father, prove conclusively that the work He had been sent to do was done and was done well, to the complete satisfaction of the Father. This is implied already in the text by the word "sat." He sat down. Sitting is a posture, an attitude of rest. God rested on the seventh day, after all His work of creation was finished. Christ now sits upon His throne, at the right hand. That is a mark of honor. When we read that Bathsheba, the queen-mother, went in to see Solomon, her royal son, she was placed on a throne at the king's right hand, in token of the respect he paid to her as his parent. So when the same term is used in the case of our Savior, it means that Christ, in His human form, as man,--for as God He needed not to be glorified,--that Christ the Man was lifted up into the exalted dignity of heaven, high above all the powers and dignities of the angels, that at the name of Jesus every knee must bow and every tongue confess that He is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. The right hand also implies power. Our right hand, as a rule, is the stronger hand. So when Scripture speaks of God's right hand, we are well aware that that is not to be taken literally, since God is a spirit and has no parts of a man, but is a figure of speech, to imply His majesty and power. Christ's taking His seat at His right hand means that Christ, the God-man, as our Catechism says, ruleth and reigneth with infinite, eternal majesty and power over all creatures and works of God's hand. To quote His own words, expressed to His disciples at His departure, "All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth." Yes, it is one of the great and glorious truths of our holy Christian faith that He who was born in Bethlehem, crucified on Calvary, and buried in Joseph's tomb, is now enthroned as the Lord of angels, the Head over all things, and that He particularly takes care of His Church. That this is indeed the case we may learn from the experience of Saul. When Saul was smitten down on the way to Damascus, he was asked by a heavenly voice, "Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me?" Saul was persecuting the Christians, but the voice says "Me." Jesus thus identifies Himself with His people. Their interests are His interests, their sufferings, His sufferings. They are the apple of His eye: no harm can come to them but when He permits it. What consolation this thought ought to afford to believers amidst all the sorrows of life! But this leads us already to consider of what significance Christ's ascension is to _us_. We sing in one of our Ascension hymns: Th' atoning work is done, The victim's blood is shed, And Jesus now is gone His people's cause to plead. He stands in heav'n, their great High Priest, And bears their names upon His breast. Reference is here made to the great day of Atonement, when the Jewish high priest, bearing on his breast the plate upon which were inserted the twelve stones, each stone of which was engraved with the name of one of the tribes of Israel, and having in his hand the blood of sacrifice, would take it into the Holy of Holies, and presenting it before the Ark of the Covenant, would intercede, ask forgiveness for the sins of the people whose representative he was. So our great High Priest, having given His life a sacrifice for our sins, passes into the Holy of Holies, there to make intercession for us, for which reason we speak of Christ as our Advocate, our Spokesman, for instance, when it says: "If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father." The best of us are continually coming short, but there stands our mutilated and meritorious Brother, holding up the hands that felt the nails, ever pleading in our behalf, ever drawing down upon us the compassionate mercy of an offended God. Yes, "He stands in heav'n, our great High Priest, and bears our names upon His breast." And, again, in Christ's ascension we have an earnest pledge of our own. He is the Head, and, "Where the Head is," we sing to-day, "well we know the members He has left below in time He surely gathers." He is our Forerunner, and a forerunner means that others are on the same way to the same place. His entering for us implies our entrance also. Christ did not only take our human nature upon Him for thirty-three years, while He dwelt upon earth among us, then, however, discarding it as a worthless and worn-out garment,--He took it along with Him into heaven and glory, and we are branches of the same vine, joined with Him in the same organism, and thus His ascension is virtually our ascension, the first-fruits of a like harvest to follow. Taking our stand to-day on Mount Olive and gazing on the blessed Savior as He mysteriously mounts up into the high heavens, we behold our Lord clearing a way for us into that upper world, and giving us an example of how all believers are to ascend at one time to the same heavenly realms. "In our blessed Lord's ascension we by faith behold our own." He has told us, "I go to prepare a place for you. Where I am, there shall also my servants be." How the ascension of Christ confirms our faith, animates our hope! Who can question that there is as much to awaken our grateful joy in our Savior's ascension as in any other event of this marvelous destiny? Christmas joy is right, and Easter joy is right; but there is no less reason to give due honor to the event of our devotion to-day, so blessed, so assuring, so vital. And if we have duly entered into the joyous truths of our faith, the practical effect is plain. The Apostle directs us, "Seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth." "Where your treasure is," the Savior said, "there will your heart be also." Christ is the Christian's treasure, and since He has ascended into heaven, there is a corresponding uplifting of our love to that home of blessedness whither He has gone, and which He is making ready for His believing people. These, then, are some of the chief thoughts which connect with the event we are commemorating to-day. To this ascended Savior let us anew render our devout homage. Anew let us give Him our love, our gratitude, our faith, our service. Let our lives, down to their very close, be spent in Him and for Him. Then, too, the day shall come when we also shall go up in triumph. Angels of God will then also escort us as conquerors to the skies, and we shall be and reign forever with Him. Grant us this, O Christ! Amen. SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION. For whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed when He shall come in His own glory, and in His Father's, and of the holy angels.--_Luke 9, 26._ It is an awful doom that our text bids us to look forward to, that when Christ comes in His glory and in His Father's and of His holy angels, then He shall be ashamed of us, refuse to acknowledge us, and yet we are inclined to think, at first sight, that, so far as it depends on our being ashamed of Christ, there is not so much fear. There is much that is wrong among us. But being ashamed of Christ, ashamed of being known as His disciples, ashamed of His name and religion, does not seem one of our shortcomings and dangers. Were not the words rather applicable to the early disciples than to us and our days? And true it is, as the Gospel to-day presents, that confessing Christ was a very different thing then from what it is now. When first the Gospel was preached among men, not to be ashamed of Christ meant nothing more or less than that a man was ready to leave everything in this world and to die for Christ. When all the powers of earth, Jews and Gentiles, were arrayed against the new faith, when men were brought before kings and rulers, and simply told that, unless they would deny Christ, they would be thrown to the wild beasts, or buried alive, or be sent to prison to labor like convicts all the rest of their days; or when almost everybody took it for granted that the Gospel was mere folly, and that every one who followed it was the most stupid and obstinate of bigots; in other words, when believing and confessing Christ meant to be laughed at, jeered at, mockery, persecution, and martyrdom,--at such seasons we can understand the suitableness and solemnity of Christ's warning to them. But those times, thank God, have passed away; the Gospel is no longer met with fagot and sword. The open profession of religion does no one any hurt in life, exposes him to no special mockery or insult, causes no unfavorable or unpleasant feelings towards him. Yes, so far from its going against him, he will not infrequently stand higher and have more credit. And yet, let us not be led into mistakes. This easiness in being religious, which without contradiction is greater nowadays than it ever was in the world since Christ came into it, must not blind us to the spirit of our Lord's words. They have a meaning still, and, while men are men, will continue to have to the world's end. _I. In what way, or ways, they apply to us_; _II. what is the one main lesson they would bring home to us_,--that let us, under the guidance and blessing of the Holy Spirit, consider. There is, my beloved, extant among us these days a confession of Christ that is general. By general we mean it does not like to go into particulars. And it is in the general that we are so brave and bold in professing not to be ashamed of Christ. Take, to make the test, that upon which our religion rests, the Holy Bible. People respect it as a sacred book; something is missing in a Christian home if it is not there; they reverence it in the general. But when it comes to the particular, how little is it really pondered; how little do men feel bound by its particular statements; how easily are its direct communications set aside when they conflict with their notions or feelings or wishes. Did God actually create man out of the dust of the ground, or is he the creature of evolution? Is the account of the fall of man into sin to be taken literally, or is it only an allegory, a poetic interpretation, a childish and primitive way to account for sin and its sad consequences? Is there a personal devil, or is the devil only to stand for evil in the abstract? The narrative of Balaam, or Jonah, of the men in the fiery oven,--are they to be received as they read? And when it comes to the New Testament,--how are we to understand the conception of the virgin birth of our Savior? how His glorious ascension? how His descent into hell? how His words of the Sacrament: "Take, eat; this is my body. Take, drink; this is my blood," literally or figuratively, "is" meaning "represents"? Does Baptism work forgiveness of sin? Is it the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Ghost, as St. Paul says to Titus, chapter 3? Go, and question among Christ's followers, consult the thousands of books that are flooding the market,--what do they teach? They are ashamed to admit that God created the world in six days of twenty-four hours each; it's unscientific; they blush at the accounts of Balaam's ass and of Jonah's whale. The blood doctrine of the cross, that Christ has redeemed us by His holy, precious blood and by His innocent suffering and death, is repugnant to many. Christ's body and blood in the Sacrament, Baptism the means of a new birth,--they are abashed to acknowledge such teachings. It is the tendency of the age to acknowledge everything in general, and in particular nothing, nothing distinct and definite. People are ashamed of the words of Christ. Why tinker and twist in order not to make the writings say but the one thing they do say? What is this but being ashamed? And as in the doctrine, so in matters of religious duty. To speak first, in general. We come to church. Others around us do the same. It's the fashion to do so. But let us ask ourselves, What if everybody around us did not do so? There are places and associations where it is not customary; some of us get among such also: no one goes;--at the very utmost one service a Sunday is thought the full limit. At such times are we shy of doing differently from other people when we know and feel what is right? What is this but being, in reality, ashamed of His words? Or take the Lord's Table,--how many know that they ought to come to the Lord's Table, know and acknowledge what the Lord's command is, and not only that, but in their hearts would like to come, and yet they stay away because they are ashamed to do what other people don't do, of being asked, perchance, sneering questions, of its being said that they are seeking to set themselves up and making more pretense of religion than their neighbors. What is this but staying away because they are ashamed to confess Christ and His words before men? One instance would I emphasize this morning in particular, and that is church-membership. People are ashamed of the church, not in general,--they regard it as a charitable institution. They have no objection to go there, nor do they mind, if the minister is a fascinating speaker, to part with a little spare change. But there is where the connection ends. With many--their number is tens of thousands--the doctrine is, that one can be just as good and hopeful outside of the Church as in it, that as long as they maintain a general uprightness of behavior, do not defraud any one, live on kindly terms with their neighbors, act as honorable citizens and profess belief in a Higher Being, it does not matter whether they just believe this or that doctrine or not, whether they are confirmed or not, whether they attend public worship, or consult their own ease and pleasure on that subject. Indeed, they can see no difference between conformity to the moral teachings and rules of some order, Odd Fellows' associations or Masonic fraternity, and the Church of Christ. In a word, they confound mere outward respectability and godliness with the teachings of Christianity, and place man's organizations, secular societies, on a common par and level with God's organization, Christ's Church, and they quite forget that, in matters of religion and sound morality, it is not for them, nor any man, to point out the way and set up the standard, but humbly to bow to the requirements, and walk in the way which God has ordained and appointed for us to walk in. And now turn to Christ and His Word,--what does it say? The teaching there is, that outside of His Church, and apart from those acts of Baptism, Holy Communion, public worship, and public identification with the Lord's people, there is no right Christianity and confession of Him. The statement and impression throughout is to this effect that a man's religion is spurious and sorely lacking if it does not bring him into the common fellowship of believers, if it does not lead him to live and move and have his being in observance of the Christian ordinances, and maintaining Christian recognition and membership in the communion of the saints. Can any one think for a moment that in those early days of persecution, when it meant either--or, life or death, people distinguished between being a Christian or a church-member? To be one meant to be the other. And now go and ask people to join the Church. Ask our young members, when arriving at the age of twenty-one years, to come in and help, to support with means and vote, give a little of their time, and see whether they regard it a privilege and a delight, a God-enjoined duty. In general there is churchliness; and in particular flimsy excuses, pretexts, subterfuges are offered. And why, to come to our next consideration, why is this? What is the cause? Why this distinction between the early disciples and our present-day confessors of Christ? There was one thing they possessed, which is now so largely lacking,--what is it? Christianity those days, we heard, meant personal sacrifice, persecution, martyrdom. Thank God that form is now over. To-day we see not the Church weeping in sackcloth and ashes at the graves of her slaughtered children, nor hear the Coliseum ringing with the wild shouts: "_Christianos ad leones_: Christians to the lions!" And yet, while not so striking, something of the same vigorous principle, of the same spirit, must characterize the conduct of every Christian. "If any man will follow after me," says the Master, be my disciple, "let him deny himself." There must be readiness, now as of old, to suffer for righteousness' sake. I am glad to note there still is. Young men go out into the ministry, from their associations and their kin, into places the crudest and the rudest to preach the Gospel of Christ, enduring poverty, calumny, and finally are broken down in health, thrown upon the charity of a cold, unfeeling world. We know some women who were lured by fair appearance into marriage by young men who won their love, and who, though now abused, lampooned, mocked, are holding fast to their faith. We know of some who, in order to attend to their religious worship and duty, have sacrificed positions of better income, and we know of some who have forfeited money and social honor by giving up their connection with beneficiary and fraternal societies. But for these the Christian faith would perish from the earth. They are the salt of the earth, the light of the world. Yet, apart from these, what is the religious life of Christians? Is it not simply a matter of convenience, custom, inheritance, yes, sometimes of fashion or of business? Do we not find numbers of Christians who cannot give for God's worship an hour out of the 168 hours a week, who would not lift a finger or a foot to help a sinking brother, to save a wandering boy, to speak a kind word to restrain a wayward girl, who, like Cain, his brother's murderer, insolently reply, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Yes, as we survey the average Christian life to-day, it seems to have lost all strenuousness. Tact, worldly wisdom, policy, not truth, God's wisdom, principles, more of profession than deeds, more of criticism than service. We see clergymen begging people if they won't be Christians, urging them to accept the glorious blessing of salvation, or, if professing Christians, humbly beseeching them to fulfill their vows, asking oft with fear and trembling for a little pittance to keep up the grand work, and when given, given as if an act of favor and grace, not from the conviction that they owe it to God and grace, whose it is, who demands it. Oh! it is pitiable, a mock and farce upon the religion we profess. When we think of the apostles and evangelists and martyrs for Jesus' sake, how they parted with homes, occupations, possessions, and even life itself for Christ and His Word, we have reason, every one of us, to hang our heads in shame. What the Church needs to-day are those who are not ashamed of Christ and His Word, _i. e._, men and women who will do their duty without ceasing; men and women who, when they have done their duty, will not be expecting the praise of men, but who find their reward in their service; men and women who are ready to sacrifice of their time, their labors, their money, themselves; men and women who, when principle, divine truth, is at stake, will stand by and rather go down, upholding what is right, than surrender to that which may be popular and fashionable, but is wrong. My beloved, the religion of the twentieth century is no other than the religion of the first century. It calls for self-denial, sacrifice. To what extent has it entered, and does it enter, into your religious life? Examine yourself in the sight of Him who said: "Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and my words, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed when He shall come in His own glory and in His Father's and of the holy angels." Amen. PENTECOST. Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts.--_Zech. 4, 6._ We shall first explain, and then seek to apply the words read. The Lord, through the Prophet Zechariah, addresses this message to Zerubbabel under remarkably instructive circumstances. Zerubbabel was the prince and leader of the Jews, under whom the first company of the exiles, numbering about 50,000, returned from the seventy years' captivity in Babylon. On reaching Jerusalem, he with his fellow-exiles promptly set about the work of building the second temple. They laid the foundations with great rejoicing, in high hope of speedily and successfully completing the work. But seeing the smallness of their resources and the vastness of the work, the large numbers who opposed, and the fewness of those who helped, also hearing the old men, who remembered the glory of the former, _i. e._, Solomon's Temple, say, as they looked with tears on the crude beginning before them, "It is as nothing in comparison," Zerubbabel and his people became discouraged and ceased from the work. For fully fifteen years nothing was done. To arouse the leader and stir up the people, to resume and press forward the work, the Lord by Zechariah now addresses them. Though they are poor and weak in comparison with the builders of the first temple, yet the Lord will have them know that this work is not wholly theirs, but is emphatically His, and must therefore be accomplished. By way of teaching them how this would be done, He sent them an impressive symbolic vision recorded in the verses immediately preceding the line of the text. The prophet sees a candlestick all of gold, having seven branches, and on the top of each branch nine lamps. On the right side of the candlestick is a living olive tree, and on the left side a similar olive tree. These trees pour from themselves a plentiful and unfailing supply of oil into the central bowl of the candlestick. Then the prophet asks what the vision means. The reply given are the words of the text: "Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts." The meaning evidently is this: As the candlestick--which stands for the Church--is furnished without cost or labor, with an unfailing and abundant supply of oil--oil being the symbol of the Holy Ghost--from the living olive trees, so will the Spirit of the Lord furnish abundant power and resources in ways within His power, to enable His servants to successfully complete the building of His house. Thus, instructed and encouraged, leader and people promptly resume the work laid aside fifteen years before. There was no lack of materials. The building advanced rapidly to completion. In the sixth year afterwards the house was dedicated to God. As the people looked upon the great structure in its completeness, every stone and timber, from the lowest foundation to the highest pinnacle, seemed to reecho the language of the text. It is done, not by might nor by power, but by the Spirit of the Lord of hosts. Such is the original meaning and application, but it by no means exhausts the lesson,--rather suggests a much wider and universal use. In the New Testament and the Church of Christ it is also most emphatically true that all depends upon the light-giving, life giving, power-giving of the Spirit of God. It was so on the first Pentecost, which we commemorate to-day; it is just so now. The source of the Church's life, and its success, is the energy of God's Spirit. That is the one prominent thought and truth that we would meditate and impress upon our minds in these moments of instruction. Men are accustomed to look on the outward appearance. They are disposed to trust to material resources. Thus, quite naturally, they are inclined to fall into the error that God's cause, the preservation and extension of Christ's Church, are dependent upon the same things, that these same things are necessary to the success of the Gospel truth. Thus, to be more explicit, they have a notion that wealth and worldly influence are such necessary helps. We see money exercising a nearly unlimited sway for external comfort and enjoyment. We behold how those who possess it secure respect and homage, thousands standing ready to do with hireling eagerness their slightest wish. To the success of every scheme, whether material or intellectual, money in our day would appear to be the one thing needful. It is called the _nervus rerum_, the nerve of things. And is the Church exempt? How is it to be supported at home, how the heathen brought within its fold, unless the ear of the rich and the powerful be first gained and their purse-strings opened to supply the financial aid? Has it not come to this, that, when inquiring as to the prosperity of a particular congregation, wealth suggests itself as the most prominent, and piety and high moral worth as only subordinate ideas, if, indeed, these occur to people at all? Now it would be foolish to contend that money and wealth may not be, and actually are, a means in God's providence to further His cause. We need money, but, let it be noted, not as a necessary, but as only a very accidental means. To take any other view of the matter is to put it in the place of God, whence alone it can derive its efficiency. Any one who has given calm and careful attention to the history of the Church, from the first publication of our holy faith by Christ Himself down to the present day, will have found that the favor of the rich and the powerful is not essential to its advancement. In the period of its rise and apparently greatest weakness, when it had only a few poor fishermen for its adherents and advocates, its growth was most rapid. After wealth began to make itself felt, its progress was retarded, and internal decay set in. By that we do not say that such has been, and naturally is, the result of every influence of this sort, but simply that the cause of divine truth is independent of all such agencies for its vitality and effective power. Riches and civil power cannot in themselves, and irrespective of the divine blessing, promote the cause of Christ in the world. That, I know, every one professing himself a Christian is ready at once to allow, and yet in view of the undue prominence that is made over the matter, it is proper to call heed to the warning contained in the text. Let us not overestimate and exaggerate the value of money in spiritual matters. Again, it is well to remark that the cause of Christ is not dependent for its advancement on personal talents and high intellectual endowments. How much is not made of that these days! Correct enough, as the supernatural gifts of the Spirit ceased with the early Christian age, the Christian Church, guided by common prudence, as well as by the express statements of the Bible, has ever since required that those who occupy the sacred office should possess such an amount of mental culture as might fit them to interpret, expound, and apply the truths of Scripture, but that there is danger of overestimating and idolizing the intellectual ability of these office-holders to the practical neglect of the truth they present, is only too lamentably apparent. Since the day that Paul, Apollos, and Cephas divided the favor of the Church of Corinth, the one being for Paul, the other for Apollos, and the third for Peter, this partiality, or favoritism, has been very common and yet is. Add to this the growing intelligence of the age, its high and general standard of education, and the loud cry for men of talents and superior scholarship is strong and pronounced. These things, accordingly, are not to be despised or neglected; on the contrary, cultivated. But let us not for one moment believe that Gospel truth is dependent on learning and genius to keep it awake. Learning and genius and oratory are nothing except when they are blessed; nay, without the blessing they are likely to be productive of injury, just in proportion as they are great. Let us beware of regarding them in any higher or different way. Unless an energy or agency superior to that of man pave the way for truth to enter, the finest scholarship and the most persuasive eloquence will not force a passage. What that energy and agency is the text tells us. One other agency and resource upon which too much stress is laid is this: We have fallen upon a generation of fuss, bustle, trumpet-blowing, and advertising. It would almost seem as if many of us believed that we were to take the world by storm. We see it in every department, and the Church is falling in line. We have all sorts of noisy demonstrations and manifestations; ministers advertise themselves and their sermons under ridiculous announcements, as if to draw the crowd, and not rather regenerating their heart, were the only and sole purpose. Let us beware of placing too much significance on this matter of advertising. We must not be forgetful of the Master's direction: "Let your light shine before men." "A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick." And yet, it is well to remember that vision of Elijah, when he stood upon Mount Horeb, and the Lord wished to speak to His servant. First there was a terrific earthquake that shook the ground; "but," it says, "the Lord was not in the earthquake." That was followed by a terrific whirlwind rending the trees and causing havoc around; "but," it says, "the Lord was not in the whirlwind." Then, following it, came a fire; "but," it says, "the Lord was not in the fire." Then, when tranquillity reigned again, and earth and skies lay in silence, "came a still, small voice." The Lord was in that. He is still in the still, small voice of Gospel grace. Let the ministers preach this Gospel grace in all its purity and in all faithfulness, and it will do the work. It is the only instrument the Spirit employs in changing a man's nature. Let him and his members live that Gospel, let them show in their characters and behavior that they have been born again and are sustained by the agency of the Holy Spirit; that they are temples of God, and the Spirit dwelleth in them, and thus by a godlike life commend the religion they profess; let them both, minister and members, be found where they were all with one accord on the first Pentecost, in one place, that one place the place of worship; and let them both be doing what the first disciples were doing,--praying for the outpouring of the Spirit, upon themselves and their cause, and, verily, as God's promise is true, they shall not fail of a pentecostal outpouring, success, and blessing upon their undertaking. Summon all your forces, mention all your resources. "Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts." God, Holy Spirit, we invoke Thee, Come into our hearts, take possession of them, come into our homes, rule there. Come into our churches and our church. Come, and Thy people bless, and give Thy Word success, for Thou, and Thou only, canst and must do so. Amen. TRINITY SUNDAY. The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with you all.--_2 Cor. 13, 14._ We are entering to-day upon the second part of the Christian church-year. The seasons and festivals of the church-year may be compared to a river that takes its rise, like the stream which washes the banks of our city, in some small and distant lake, and then ever continues to grow, widen, and deepen, until it becomes a majestic flow, and finally empties into the vast gulf of the ocean. We have seen in the past months the river of grace and salvation issuing as a tiny rivulet from under a humble manger on Bethlehem's plains, passing through the gorge of Nazareth, flowing along the banks of Jordan, sweeping past the cities of Galilee and Judea, lifting up its surging billows to the height of Calvary and Olivet, until it overflowed the world with its heavenly billows on the day of Pentecost. By that river it has been our good fortune to linger each Sunday, to dip up of its waters many a draught for our thirsty souls, and bathe in its currents for the washing away of our sins. To-day, however, we are called to ascend to its source, to leave Bethlehem, Nazareth, and Judea behind, to climb above Golgotha's Mount and Olivet's top, yes, to soar beyond the cloud which once received our ascended Lord out of sight, and to gaze upon a gulf, an ocean, which has no boundary and no shore. To speak in simple and unadorned speech: It is the subject of God Himself which we are invited to contemplate, the most overwhelming, mysterious, deepest of them all. "Who by searching," asks Job, "can find out God? Who can find out the Almighty to perfection?" And yet there are some things which we can and which we must know, for the subject of God is at the base of all things, of all religion. Without the right knowledge of God no man is a right man, and no one can rightly adjust himself to his place in this world or in the next. Let us, then, approach the great mystery of godliness, letting heavenly wisdom be our teacher.-- To-day's festival is called the Festival of the Trinity. What is the doctrine of the Trinity? For it certainly behooves every one to understand what is meant thereby, and this doctrine is held by all the Christian churches. Whosoever believes it, becomes a member of the Church. Whoever rejects it, ceases to belong to the Christian Church, and becomes a heretic. Scripture tells us on the one hand that God is one, that there are not three Gods, but one God; on the other hand, that the Father is God, that our blessed Lord Jesus, the Son, is God, that the Holy Ghost is God, each person being a perfect God, yet so joined, each to each, that they constitute one invisible God. We are taught that these three persons are uncreated, incomprehensible, eternal, almighty, equal in glory, majesty, and power. None is before, none after, none greater or less than another; they are coeternal and coequal. That is the plain teaching of God's holy Word. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, each of them is God, and yet there are not three Gods, but one God. How these three persons are so united as to make up only one God, so that the persons are neither confounded, nor the substance divided, we are nowhere told in Scripture. On this, as with regard to many other matters, we must be content to be ignorant. That is a great hardship to the pride of the would-be wise. And so in the earliest ages men arose and strove against this doctrine of the Trinity. The first violent strife that agitated the early Christian Church was just on this point. Arius, a certain bishop, would not accept the simple statement of Scripture that Christ is God, in the same sense as the Father is God; he would make Him inferior in divine nature. A most fierce controversy was waged, which ended in Arius' being branded a heretic, as, indeed, he was, and the true faith being only the more clearly confessed in the creeds of the Church, called the Athanasian and the Nicene Creed. Does this doctrine sound strange and hard to believe to the carnal understanding? Let those who would be wise come forward, and prove their right to be admitted into the mystery of heaven, by showing that they have fully mastered the lesser mysteries of earth. Let them tell us, for instance, why the needle of the compass always turns toward the north. Perhaps they will say, Because it is in its nature to do so. But that is no answer. Our question is, _Why_ does the needle so turn? What secret and invisible hand twists it around and causes it to point always the same way? Or, if this be too puzzling a question, perhaps these wise people who think it so great a hardship that they are not permitted to understand God, may tell us a little about themselves. They can perhaps teach us how it comes to pass that the blood keeps flowing unceasingly through our veins, without our being aware of it, except when we are in a high fever. We grow tired with labor or with exercise, we tire even with doing nothing, but the blood never ceases in its flow; from the hour of our birth, day and night, summer and winter, year after year, it keeps on with its silent round, never stopping, till it stops once for all. How, I ask, can these things be? No answer. And this is not the only matter by any means. There is, for instance, sleep. Who does not sleep? One-third of our lifetime is spent in sleep. Who can say what this is? And if you cannot,--and no one can,--let those who know nothing about the how and the why in so many, yea, in most of earthly matters, not be so very much surprised that they cannot understand the existence of that invisible, that eternal, that infinite Spirit whom we call God. But though Scripture has only told us _that_ these things are, without teaching us _how_ they are, yet for the sake of showing that the mystery of the Trinity is not so utterly at variance with what we find in earthly things, as unbelievers would fain persuade us, for the sake of proving how possible it is, even according to our limited notions, for that which is three in one sense to be one in another sense, learned and pious men have busied themselves in seeking out likenesses for the Trinity among the things of this world. These likenesses, it should be borne in mind, are very imperfect, and they do not give us a full and just idea of the glorious Trinity; yet such comparisons may help us in attaching some sort of notion to the words of the Creed, may keep those words from lying dead in our minds or, rather, on our tongues. One such likeness or comparison is the glorious object which our eyes see in the sky--the sun. That grand orb yonder, from which all life doth come, may be compared to the Father, from whom all blessings flow. From it issues light. This we may compare to the second person of the Trinity, who came forth from the Father, and who John tells us is the true Light, which lights every man that cometh into this world. But besides this, there comes from the sun, heat, which is different from light, and may exist altogether without it. This heat of the sun may not imperfectly be compared to the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Giver of Life, as the Creed calls Him, for heat is the great fosterer of life. Thus we have, first, the sun in the sky; secondly, the light which issues from the sun; thirdly, the heat which accompanies the light--three separate and distinguishable things; for the sun viewed as an orb is one thing, the light sent forth from it is another thing, the heat still another; and yet, what can be more undivided than the sun, its light and its warmth? To mention another.--As with the most glorious of heavenly bodies, so with the purest of earthly bodies--water. Here, too, we have, first, the fountain, high up among the rocks, far out of man's reach, answering to the Father; secondly, the stream which issues from the fountain, and flows down into the valley for the use of man, which may be likened to Jesus Christ, the Son; thirdly, the mist which rises from the water, and falls in rain or dew upon the thirsty ground, which, I need hardly state, answers to the Holy Ghost, who, as we regarded last Sunday, came down visibly, like the rain, with a sound as of a rushing mighty wind on the apostles, but who now descends gently and silently, like the dew, in the silence of night, on the heart of the believer. And these comparisons may be multiplied without number. Thus you are yourself a trinity, a three in one, consisting of body, soul, and spirit. A clover leaf is one, yet has three lobes. A tree is roots, trunk, and branches, yet one tree. Time is past, present, and future; constitutes one thing,--time. By these comparisons we do not make the difficulty in the mystery of the Trinity conceivable to man's reason. What God is in Himself,--how the Son is the Only-begotten of the Father; how the Holy Ghost proceeds from the Father; how the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost abide forever in inseparable union and trinity,--these are questions of no importance for us to know, and therefore God has not thought fit to reveal them to us more clearly. And having considered the doctrine of the Trinity, as expressed in the words of the text and of Scripture at large, let us draw a few practical lessons from it. Many regard the doctrine of the Trinity to be what is called a speculative doctrine only, that is to say, a doctrine concerning which men may think and conjecture and dispute for their amusement, but of no effect or importance in real life. This is a mistake. The doctrine of the Holy Trinity is eminently practical and eminently profitable. Our religion is founded upon it. Deny or think lightly of this article of our faith, and you remove the very corner-stone. If it be not true that Christ Jesus is God in the same degree and sense that the Father is, then He was not God at all, then He was a creature, then His redemption is none-availing,--"for no man can redeem his brother,"--then, in other words, we have no Savior, and our faith is vain, and our salvation a delusion, and all that brings us together in Christian worship is false; for in whose name, then, have we been baptized, for what purpose do we recite the Creed, and does the minister at the end of the service pronounce the blessing, and the congregation sing the doxology? You will observe that this doctrine lies at the very center and heart of all our faith and worship, of all our Christian life of joy and hope. And some exceedingly profitable lessons does it teach us. One is humility. To hear some people talk, one would suppose them the embodiment of all wisdom; they are so self-consequential and conceited as if they knew it all, and what they cannot figure out on their fingers or by the rule of two is not worth accepting. Let such learn in view of this doctrine to put their hand upon their mouth, and their mouth into the dust, and learn to confess their insignificance and folly. It is said of Augustine, the great bishop, that he was once in great distress of mind how he might comprehend and describe this article concerning the Three-One God. When thus engaged, he tells that he dreamed that he was walking along the seashore; he saw a little child who had dug a hole into the sand, and was employed dipping the ocean water into the hole with a shell. "What are you doing?" said the church-father. "Oh," replied the little one, "nothing, only trying to empty this sea here into the hole." Laughingly he rejoined, "You will never be able to do that, will you?" "Indeed," answered the child, "and thou wouldst empty the mysteries of the infinite Triune God with the little dipper of thy thoughts!" Let us guard against being overly wise. Study to be humble when it comes to matters of God and our holy religion. And, to conclude, let us encourage ourselves by such meditation to joyous and childlike faith. God is great beyond all searching; therefore, may we rest assured that all is well in His hands and management. A farmer once remarked to Dr. Luther that he could not understand the Creed when it speaks of God Almighty. "Neither can I nor all the doctors," said the Reformer, "but only believe it in all simplicity, and take that God Almighty for thy Lord, and He will take care of thee and all thou hast, and bring thee safely through all thy troubles." The same is true with regard to the second part of the Trinity. "If God," says the apostle, "spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?" And the Holy Spirit coming into our hearts, changing, sustaining, and enlightening us--ought not a devout consideration of this loving, redeeming, sanctifying work of the Triune God prompt us to trust in Him--for life, in death, for time and eternity? To the great One in Three The highest praises be Hence evermore! His sovereign majesty May we in glory see, And through eternity Love and adore. Amen. FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And these shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal.--_Matt. 25, 46._ Truth, my beloved, never changes; it is always the same. What was true 1900 years ago, is true to-day; what is true to-day, will be true 1900 years to come. And this is emphatically so with regard to heavenly truth. There is no new revelation in religion. What the Bible taught of old, it teaches now; we have no new Bible. The Christian faith, like its Founder, is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. Thank God that it is so; that among the ever-changing things of earth, the constantly fluctuating and shifting ideas and opinions of men, firmer than the Rock of Gibraltar, more solid than the mountains, there stands the Word of our God. And this pertains also to the doctrine which this day's Gospel prominently sets before us, the doctrine of future punishment. It is only recently that the public prints quoted the minister of a prominent church as saying: "Modern Christianity has happily grown away from the old traditional doctrine of hell. The Church no longer believes in a place of literal fire and brimstone, into which all unbelievers are cast for an eternity of torment. Even the most rigid orthodoxy allows wide latitude of belief in the problem of future punishment." Such utterances are very prevalent, and have caused untold confusion of thought. The matter, however, is very simple. It is not a question of what some certain minister thinks, however prominent he may be; neither are we to be guided by what modern Christianity thinks, for modern Christianity ought not think and believe differently from ancient Christianity, since Christianity ought to be ever the same; nor are we concerned what was the old traditional doctrine, since tradition is not, nor has it ever been, a criterion for us. The only determining factor in this, as in all articles of our religious belief, is, What saith the Scripture? Nor may it be superfluous, in approaching the subject of to-day's instruction, to warn against another element, which is sentimentality. Sentiment in its place and sphere is noble and good; but it must remain within its place and sphere. When it comes into conflict with God's teaching, or when it sets itself against the teachings of God's Word, and, because it cannot think or feel how a loving and righteous God could do or permit certain things, then sentiment degenerates into sickly sentimentality, becomes ignoble and sinful. We must never allow our emotion to outrun our sober reason, and, least of all, to set itself against the statements of religion and the arrangements of a holy and all-wise God. And what is that arrangement in respect to the future? Two main thoughts would we dwell upon at this time: _I. Hell, what is it?--its nature. II. How long does it last?--its duration._ Whenever a general in war wishes to surprise his enemy, he seeks to conceal himself from him, endeavors to make his antagonist believe that he is not at all about, or that he is not as formidable as the other might think. Just so the infernal enemy of men's souls seek to delude them into the belief that there is no hell; that, at any rate, it is not what some would make it out to be. Hell is within you; it's the pinching of conscience in this life, or the misery you have to endure here. At the most, it is not terrible, it is not going to last forever; there is going to be a final and universal restoration; all unbelievers will ultimately be delivered. All this passes for naught. Whether there is a future life, and of what sort that future life is--only one can positively tell us, and that is God--I repeat, _positively_ tell us. Human reason and philosophy have conjectured its probability or its possibility, but as to its _certainty_, that we have exclusively from the book of God's revelations--the Bible. And the Bible tells us, in plain, unmistakable terms, as plainly as it tells us that there is a heaven and a God, that there is a hell. To discredit it is to discredit the Bible, to contradict our blessed Lord, to shut one's eyes willfully against the truth, and what is it? Something within us--something confined to this world? Never does the Bible so speak. Hell, according to the Scriptures, refers always to the future. So in the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus. The rich man _died_, and _then_, after his death, in hell, he lifted up his eyes. When this life is over, the scenes of this world have faded upon their vision, then, for the unrepentant and unsaved, comes hell. And what is it? To give it with one word--punishment. "These," declares the eternal Judge, "shall go away into everlasting punishment." This punishment is twofold; it is outward and it is inward. Man consists of body and of soul; both are the instruments of his guilt and condemnation; both receive the just reward of their deeds. Whenever Scripture speaks of future punishment, it uses expressions like these: "darkness, blackness of darkness, thirst, fire, lake burning with fire and brimstone." The Gospel parable represents the rich man begging for a drop of water to cool his tongue. It has been said that this is nothing but imagery, mere drapery, pictorial embellishment; but it is _true_. Imagery and the figure are always less terrible than the reality. It may be idle curiosity to speculate as to whether this fire which the Bible speaks of is material fire, how God can support life in the burnings of hell,--though we know that He sustained the companions of Daniel in a hot furnace in the days of King Nebuchadnezzar whose image they would not worship. Waiving all such questions as to the nature of the fire, the place where it is, and the extent to which it is inflicted, the fact that Scripture almost always employs the idea of fire to express the sufferings of hell leads one to believe that there unhappy sufferers literally endure torments like those which men burning in flames feel; and without running into all sorts of revolting descriptions, so much is plain: Hell is pain, acute sensation of the body, the sense of feeling physical suffering; and coupled with this outward punishment is the _inward_ anguish of mind, remorse of conscience. Thus, in the parable, Abraham speaks to the rich man, "Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things." Memory will be a dreadful source of misery. Here, again, we shall not enter upon any speculations as to the workings of mind and conscience in future retributions, but we know what agony remorse of conscience occasions in this world. It has made strong men tremble, it has smitten the knees of Belshazzar together in the midst of his pleasure. It has forced many a one to confess his misdeed, to give evidence against himself, and seek punishment to escape its excruciating agony. Terrible is an awakened conscience, and yonder it shall be fully awakened. It will have to do homage to an offended and avenging God; be obliged to say to itself, You are the author of your own punishment, you suffer for your own sins. The recollection of his selfishness, his uncharitableness, sensuality, of possessions, and of opportunities abused and misspent, as in the case of this rich man in the parable, will cause him keen and tormenting self-reproach. Anguish, inward and outward, and all this aggravated by the society, the companionship about them. Imagine the associates in yonder accursed place! No wonder that the unfortunate subject of to-day's parable plaintively pleads: "I pray thee, father, that thou wouldst send Lazarus to my father's house; for I have five brothers, lest they also come into this place of torment." The thought, not that of pity,--for pity and sympathy are unknown in hell,--but of increasing his misery, knowing how much he was guilty toward them in leading them astray by scoffing word and lewd example,--it was this that wrung from his lips this plea. How awful such association! How dreadful it is all! So much as to the first particular, what hell is: outward and inward punishment in the society of the damned. And such punishment, it is further revealed here, is ceaseless in its duration. Many theories are taught to the contrary. It is contended by some that this punishment is only for a time, then follows annihilation of the wicked, they cease to exist. Others, again, hold that all the wicked will be finally restored to God's favor and heaven; that they are now only in a state of trial and probation; that hell will come to an end. I grant you that we would be very much inclined to believe that if we could. But what say the Scriptures? There is not a single word in all the Bible which indicates that there will be probation, another chance, after death. As the tree falleth, so it lies. When the sand has run out of the glass of life, there is no reversion of the glass, the period of grace is gone. "There is a great gulf fixed, says the Gospel, so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us that would come from thence." What plainer words could be spoken: "These shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal." Mark the comparison,--everlasting punishment, life eternal. If you tamper with, lessen the one, you do so with the other; the only thing in fairness is to accept them thus strictly and expressly, meaning just what they say. _Eternity_, that is the word which is written over the portals of the blessed, over the place of the cursed. Thus in its dread and awful solemnity have I set this subject before you. Why? Because it is the duty of a faithful servant of God to declare to his people the whole counsel of His Master, and do so unreservedly. A much abused subject is the subject of "Hell,"--from the playwright who works it up for public amusement, to the swearer who uses it in his foul mouth to add poison and fury to his oath, to the over-sensitive churchmen who treat the passages which treat of hell like a waxen nose that they can twist and turn to suit, and who would not recite in the Creed: "Christ descended into hell," since it sounds so bad. Over against these and all other perversions it behooves us to vindicate the clear and unmistakable teaching of the Bible. It is the Savior Himself who tells us to-day's parable, who spoke the words of our text, and it is for us to believe and declare what He says, to avoid all levity in the matter and all vain speculation, and to give it its proper weight and place. But above all, this dreadful subject is held up before us that we may know how to escape the terrors portrayed. How? "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." "He has redeemed me, a lost and condemned creature, purchased and won me, that I may be His own and live under Him in His kingdom, and serve Him in everlasting righteousness and blessedness." That is the purpose of the Gospel. God wants none to perish, not one soul has He destined to eternal perdition; He would have all men to be saved. He has made every provision to save man from everlasting doom. The terrors of yonder place magnify the riches of that grace which in Jesus Christ delivers from it. Let us adore the wisdom, the unspeakable mercy that would spare us from such a doom. Let us turn to the Cross, employ the time of grace in faith and in wholesome service and life,-- So whene'er the signal's given Us from earth to call away, Borne on angels' wings to heaven, Glad the summons to obey, May we ready, may we ready, Rise and reign in endless day. Amen. SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And as he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled, and answered, Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.--_Acts 24, 25._ Felix, the man here mentioned, was the Roman Governor or Procurator of Judea. Felix is a Latin word and means "happy." But Felix was not happy, for no wicked person can be happy, and Felix was a wicked person. Tacitus, the historian, says of him: "In the practice of all kinds of cruelty and lust, Felix exercised the power of a king with the temper of a slave." A sample we have here given. It reads in the previous verse: "After certain days, ... Felix came with his wife." Strictly taken, she was not his wife, but, being persuaded to elope to him from her husband, the two were living together in an adulterous alliance. And before this man appears a prisoner, unpretentious-looking, loaded with chains. He had stood before the Governor once before in answer to certain charges made by his countrymen, and had so ably and convincingly defended himself that, had it not been, as it says in the next verse, that Felix expected to realize something out of the case by way of a bribe, he would have set him free. As it was, the Governor had been so impressed with Paul's (for none other was the prisoner) forceful speech that he requested the apostle to give him a more explicit account concerning the religion he preached. He arranges the occasion, and the champion of the cross gladly availed himself of the opportunity. We do not know the precise course which he followed in his address to Felix, but his general outline was based on the same principles that every good Christian sermon is based on, viz., faith and practice. First he spoke concerning the faith in Christ, that is, the Christian faith, laying down its fundamental and cardinal facts and doctrines. But as a sick man will never send for the physician till he is aware of his danger, so the sinner will never betake himself to the redeeming blood of his Savior till he becomes sensible of his lost and sinful condition. The apostle, therefore, not only preaches the Gospel; he also preaches the Law. "He reasoned," it says, "of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come." No topics could have been more appropriate. Felix was a high-ranked magistrate, accustomed to see every one prostrate at his feet. Paul points out to him that though there be various gradations in social life, the one a king, the other a subject, the one stepping on a carpet of down and gold, the other walking barefoot through the dust, in the sight of God all these distinctions avail not. Yea, having higher opportunities, a man's responsibilities are but the greater, and woe if in the discharge of his office a man measure not up to the responsibilities. Thus, turning to the next particular, he reasoned of temperance, _i. e._, the right government of the passions; he showed him how intemperance degrades the character, debases society, and invites the punishment of God, and, finally, placing his sermon on still higher ground, he draws away for a moment from the eyes of Felix the bandage that concealed the sight of futurity, and ushers him in thought before the judgment-bar of his unalterable Judge. He had invited this prisoner, far-famed for his topic and eloquence, to give a display of his powers, but he had never supposed such a presentation. As the divine word, the two-edged sword of the Spirit, wielded by such an arm, cut into the joints and marrow of the profligate sinner's conscience. It had the same effect which the handwriting on the wall once had upon Belshazzar of Babylon. He moved about uneasily, his color changed, his knees smote one against the other; "he trembled," it says. The truth had smitten to the heart, and then? Was truth victorious? Did virtue conquer? Did the judgment-hall echo the words of the Philippian jailer, "What shall I do to be saved?" or, like the publican, did he smite upon his breast, saying, "God be merciful to me a sinner"? How the angels would have rejoiced, and Felix would have been what his name means, "happy." But Satan knew his man too well. In a moment the smitten sinner had rallied from his shock; with a grace and courtesy, truly admirable if it had not been so disastrous, he says: "Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee." The story of Felix has been written for our admonition. God grant that like an arrow it may smite into the joints and marrow of our conscience to-day. Our theme is: THE CONVENIENT SEASON, noting, _I. A few things that hinder the convenient season; II. The delusion of putting it off._ We have heard Felix' plea; it was not an abrupt turning away from the topics Paul had spoken to him of. He did not declare in express terms that he would never embrace the faith in Christ, that he would not renounce iniquity and prepare for the final account. No, his answer implies that he would do all this, but he begs to be excused from doing it for the present. "When I have a convenient season, I will call for thee." Felix' plea is still a most prevalent plea. Perhaps it is the most prevalent plea, never advanced so much as in our times. It is not that people are deliberately determined to rush into the arms of the devil and hell; many of the most thoughtless and the most profligate, convicted by the emotions of conscience within and the presentation of religion, still have the intention that some time or other, bye and bye, they are going to become more serious, to reform. The drunkard will some day abandon his cups, the swearer his profanity, the lewd man his profligacy, but not just now. And not only these, the thoughtless, the profligate, but those who are very thoughtful and of excellent standing and morals. What a universal plea it is! There is one class, they are "too young to be religious. Youth is the time of gayety. Even if they do not sow wild oats, they must have their pleasure. As they advance in years, they will eventually grow more serious." Let me caution you, my young hearers! Of all other seasons, youth is the fittest for God and godliness. No man ever became more disposed to be religious by mere age. He may become more thoughtful and serious, but thoughtfulness and seriousness is not yet religion. The duty enjoined is: "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth," and it is a solemn fact that the greater number of those who are Christians indeed have been so in early life.--So be not deceived! The present time is the most convenient season. You can never enjoy a better. Another apology and hindrance which multitudes offer against the convenient season is what they style "business." I suppose Felix had occasion to offer that, too. The office of a governor was no lazy one; he had a large docket of pending cases, a considerable correspondence, many distracting cares. Correspondingly, at the present, there be those who are occupied in providing for their wants, gaining a livelihood for their families, accumulating a fortune. It is impossible for them just now, but in a few years they will have more leisure; their property will be greater, their anxiety lessened, and then, relieved of pressing cares, they will devote their time and their attention to God's service. Sad mistake! Business never lets up. The world gives no man leisure for the consideration of the greater business of salvation. I have known those who have urged this excuse ten, nearly twenty years ago; they still urge it, and will continue to do so so long as they live. Some may regard it as a witticism, but it was immensely serious when a child recently informed its mother that the child did not think papa was going to heaven, and asked why, replied, "He can't possibly leave the store." We have a number of that class in connection with our membership. It is a sorry business that keeps any man away from the main business, the one thing needful. One more plea would we regard, that is health. How many, when aroused to the importance of attending to matters spiritual, will seek to soothe the clamors of conscience by the reflection: It is true, I must be renewed and holy, or I will perish. I cannot go to heaven as I am, but I hope to be better before I die. I will look after these things when I get sick; then I shall have leisure for reflection. With nothing else to do then, I will repent and make my peace with God. Oh! the folly and the wickedness of such reasoning! Not only does it reflect on God's religion, as if it were a tyranny and a grievous yoke that one puts off as long as it is possible, not only is it God-dishonoring, giving unto the devil and to the world, the Lord's foremost rivals, the best fruits of one's days, and turning over to Him the stubble and the dregs left in the cup of life, but who knows the time of his death, the time appointed when he shall go hence, and whether occasion shall be left for any reflection? Like a lightning flash it may summon us into the presence of the Almighty. And even granted that everything shall be propitious in that respect, have you ever seen persons on a sick- or death-bed? Their pulse feverish and their body weak; their senses so impaired that they seem utterly unable to collect their thoughts; and this is the time that people want to select for religious reflection? Then, too, when does the Bible say that a man can convert himself at any time that he chooses? The Bible speaks of only one solitary case of death-bed, or eleventh-hour repentance, and that is the instance of the dying thief on the cross. And there is a tremendously wide difference between him and the people who offer up that plea. The dying malefactor had never deferred his conversion to his dying day; he had never put religion off until then. So his case does not belong under consideration at all, though it is always quoted by such delinquents. No, there is only one convenient season, and there is only one course to pursue in view of it. That one convenient season is now, and the only one course to pursue in view of it is to seize hold upon and attend to its demands. We have all seen mottoes on the walls of business offices: "Do it now," "Never put off until to-morrow what can be done to-day," "Now or never," "Make hay while the sun shines." And as you see them at their worldly interests, they follow those mottoes; they are up and about, straining every nerve, using every moment to gain an advantage. Yes, as you study the whole working creation of God, you will discover that everything is on time: The birds know when to fly southward; the stars of heaven meet all their appointments; the earth is believed to make a circuit of five hundred millions of miles and back again at the winter and spring solstice on the second, yes, on the millionth part of a second. There is only one who wastes time, and that in the most important matter, and that creature is _man_. Observe in this the terrible delusion of procrastination. And it cheats us all, more or less; or how--to make the application to ourselves who are church-members--how is it that we can hear the things which we hear Sunday after Sunday, and on many other occasions, things which, so far from denying or contradicting, we like to hear, we would be uncomfortable not to hear, and agree with them and still go on living and doing as if they were mere words and meant nothing, if it were not that we fancy to ourselves a time when it will suit us not only to agree with them, but actually to put them in practice,--a time when we shall pray in earnest, though we are careless about praying now,--a time when we shall take up the reading of the Bible, though we neglect it now,--a time when we shall be gentle, and loving, and heavenly-minded, and pure, whatever to the contrary we may be now? But is it not a delusion? If you are putting off saying your prayers regularly and earnestly because it is not convenient now, do you really think that the time will come when it will be easier, and more natural for you to do this? If you are still putting off, as so many have, and are putting off for years, what yet they acknowledge to be a Christian's bounden duty, employing the much-needed means of grace, the coming to the Lord's holy Sacrament, can you really expect that anything will happen to you which somehow or other will be the opportunity you cannot find now of hearing the Gospel and drawing near to that blessed communion? Reflect! Felix waited for a convenient season. It never came; it will never come where he is now. Let him be a lesson to us. The convenient season is just now,--and let us beware of trifling with it. Of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these, It might have been. And of all devices by which the devil throws a loop around the sinner's neck, the most effective is this: "A more convenient season!" "Not yet." My dear hearers, I have again, like my great predecessor, the apostle, made an appeal to you to accept the faith as it is in Christ Jesus. What say you? With Felix: "Not now," or, "I will"? O for the right choice! God gives you the opportunity to make it now. Will you not seize it? Amen. THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And as Jesus passed forth from thence, He saw a man named Matthew sitting at the receipt of custom; and He said unto him, Follow me. And he arose and followed Him. And it came to pass, as Jesus sat at meat in the house, behold, many publicans and sinners came and sat down with Him and His disciples. And when the Pharisees saw it, they said unto His disciples, Why eateth your Master with publicans and sinners? But when Jesus heard that, He said unto them, They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. But go ye and learn what that meaneth, I will have mercy, and not sacrifice; for I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance.--_Matt. 9, 9-13._ The text just heard contains much of interest and importance--first, for the history which it gives, and secondly, for the Gospel which it preaches. We shall consider both for our encouragement and instruction. It was in Capernaum, the capital of Galilee, on the borders of Lake Tiberias. Jesus was walking by the seaside when He saw a man named Matthew sitting at the receipt of customs, collecting the duties, or taxes, on goods landed from the vessels. To all human appearance this collector of customs, or publican, as they were called, was a very unlikely person to become a convert, much less an apostle. Publicans, or taxgatherers, in those days were held in very ill repute. One reason for this was that they were in the employ of the Roman Government, and no patriotic, loyal-hearted Jew would permit himself to be employed by these despised and oppressive Gentiles. Another reason was that those who were thus employed generally managed to make it profitable for themselves. By practicing fraud and distortion upon their own countrymen, overcharging and collecting more than was due, they succeeded in accumulating means, and many, like Zaccheus, a large fortune. There is nothing to show that Matthew was guilty of such extortion and fraud, but he was by office and occupation connected with this odious and unprincipled set of men; nor is it necessary for us to believe that he was altogether free from the taint that attached to them. And yet, out of the ranks of these base and detested publicans, Jesus did not disdain to take at least one of those twelve men whom He chose to be the heralds of His Gospel, the great leaders of His kingdom to a perishing world. Good men, let us learn from this, often come from despised and unworthy classes. Outward circumstances do not always prove as unfavorable nor as adverse to piety as we are apt to imagine. There is often a wide contrast between outward appearances and inward realities. It may be that Matthew inwardly was very much disposed to follow Jesus when addressed by Him. It is not for us to discern what is going on in the inner man. We may hear the blasphemer uttering a vile oath and pass him by as one on the verge of perdition, while the heart of the poor wretch at the very moment may be bursting with anguish and filled with self-reproach, and one word of kindness might melt him into contrition and love. We see another amid the wild whirl of earthly dissipation and pleasure, and may suppose that it would be casting pearls before swine to waste a word on religious topics with him, while he may be aching with a sense of the emptiness of the world, and a single expression of Christian kindness may draw from him a confession of the vanity of all his pleasures, and the inquiry, Who will show me any permanent and real good? Never let us judge of the hopelessness of man's salvation by the mere outward appearance. No den of infamy is so vile, no hall of skepticism, or haunt of worldliness is so impenetrable, no prison cell so deep or polluted, but that Jesus can gather thence gems that shall shine in His crown. Who was ever a more devoted follower of Christ than Mary Magdalene?--and yet she once had seven devils. Who was more voluptuous, depraved, and infamous in his course as a young man than Augustine, who became the great bishop of Hippo and one of the most illustrious doctors of the Church? And what did Jesus see in any of us to lead Him to visit us with His salvation? Was there any such native excellence in your character, or such a purity in your conduct, when out of Christ, that God was attracted thereby and stooped from heaven to save you, because it was a pity that so much worth and goodness should be lost forever? Oh, no, not for our merits, but of His own infinite mercy does He save us, and if we feel aright, we shall never think that we deserved to be saved, while the vile sinner deserved to be damned, but that all of us are sinners worthy of God's wrath and curse, and that none have reason for boasting. Viewed in that light, we shall not wonder that Christ chose an apostle from that most ill-favored class of men known in Palestine at the time. And the call was not unheeded. It is not necessary to assume that the call came to Matthew as a clap of thunder out of a clear sky. Matthew, as a dweller in Capernaum, where our Savior was preaching and performing some of His most noted miracles, and as a man who daily had to do with people of all classes, could not have been without some knowledge of what was going on. In all likelihood he had seen and heard Christ, and so was not wholly without preparation for what happened when the great Teacher and Wonder-worker came into his office and said to him, "Follow me." And what was the decision? Our text informs us: He left all, rose up, and followed Christ. Promptly, cheerfully, he surrendered his worldly interests, unites his fortune and his future with the Master. It was not so in every instance. We know that the same call was extended to others, who at once propounded something else to be attended to. The one remarked, "Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father;" another, "Lord, I will follow Thee, but let me first go bid them farewell which are at home at my house," and still another, it says, "went away sorrowing," because he was not willing to separate himself from his great possessions. It is so to this very day and hour. To every one that hears the Gospel the word is: "Follow Me." There are those who heed it like Matthew. Then others who hear the same call make a thousand excuses, but never reach the point of honest decision. Obedience, as it is the first virtue of a child, in a soldier, or a servant, so it is the first virtue in a Christian. When you hear the blessed Savior's voice, asking you to take up the obligations of a Christian faith and life, then respond like Matthew, instantly, promptly. And not only was it prompt and ready obedience, it was steadfast, persevering. It was not a spirit of momentary enthusiasm that presently died away. Never again did he return to his old profession. With unfaltering devotion did he cling to our Lord, and finally laid down his life in His cause. There are those who, when they hear the merciful call of the Savior, are prompt enough sometimes to follow. They are greatly captivated with the Christian profession. They like the distinction it gives them, the new attitude and surroundings in which they are placed, the gaining of new friends, sympathies and credit with which it invests them. But when it comes to the serious side,--and Christian discipleship has a serious side,--it does not mean only wearing a bright uniform and carrying a flag, but standing on guard, enduring hardships as a good soldier of Christ. Then the cross becomes too heavy for them, and by and by they are offended, their zeal expires, and their once flaming devotion dies. Matthew was not of that class; his decision was as honest, thorough, and enduring as it was prompt, and in this he is an example for us. Nor was this all. Not only did Matthew follow the Savior, but the subsequent verse informs us that he made a great feast for the Master. We can easily see the motives of the man in making this feast. "My Lord has had mercy on me," he would say, "and I wish to do something to testify my love and gratitude to Him. I will make an entertainment in His honor, and I will invite my old friends among the publicans to it, for it may be that His words of power may reach their hearts as they did mine, and turn them from their sins." That, my beloved, is one of the strongest evidences of a truly converted soul--anxiety and concern for the soul of others. A person that has found the Savior is anxious that others should find Him, too. Christianity is not like gold, which every one wishes to secrete for his own use, but it is like a full fountain--it runs over; like the sun--it must shine forth. And so we behold the Savior now seated in the midst of a large company of publicans and sinners. But have you, my dear hearers, ever known of a noble and holy work, no matter what it is, that did not meet with some criticism? Some carping voice is bound to be always heard, and so here. That Jesus was found in such company, and agreed to be a guest with such society, was a scandal in the eyes of the ceremonial, self-righteous Jews, and "He it was who claimed to be the long-expected Messiah." It was conclusive evidence to them that He was a sheer impostor, a glutton and wine-bibber, equally as bad as those whom He met on such familiar terms. Nor were they slow in making known their conclusions. They uttered their malignant feelings, not to Jesus Himself, but to His disciples. When Jesus learned their cavils, it does not appear that He was ruffled in the least. He knew His mission, for what purpose He had come into this world, and so with all firmness we hear Him setting forth His association with these ill-reputed people as in accord not only with the best principles of common sense, but with the whole spirit and intent of His Messiahship. "But when Jesus heard that, He said unto them, They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick." Sin is a sickness, a disease, and these publicans and sinners were very deeply under the power of this disease. Now, where should a physician be but with the sick and the dying? Is a doctor to be blamed for entering a hospital full of suffering invalids? Is it not rather a blessed demonstration of His fidelity to his profession to go to such ailing people? Well, then, what right had these self-constituted saints and judges to find fault? They claimed to be good and holy people. They kept the Law. They were _whole_. They had no need of a physician to make them better,--so they thought. Why, then, was the great Healer of souls to confine Himself to them? Thus upon their own principles and common sense, Christ amply justified His conduct. There is a double lesson to be drawn from our text. First, if you have always maintained a good moral character, through the restraints of a religious education and of God's grace, be thankful for it; it is, indeed, a great mercy to have been kept from gross sins, and it will be a great help to you in a life of godliness. But be careful that you do not rest salvation upon it, make a Savior of your own goodness, and so refuse Christ, without whom you will be damned as surely as the vilest transgressor. Beware that your outward decency of character does not puff you up and make you think that such as you can never be lost. There is no other name but that of Christ whereby you can be saved, and you must come to Him weary and heavy-laden, just as the vilest sinner does, if you would find rest to your soul. On the other hand, if there be one present who has fallen into gross transgression, so that it seems almost too much for him to hope to be forgiven, let him hear the words of Jesus, "I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance," and let him be encouraged. Is there any wound this great Physician cannot heal? Is there any sin the grace of Jesus cannot pardon, or His blood wash away? Doubt not His infinite compassion, doubt not His almighty power. Lay your soul in His hands. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. Oh! that, like Matthew of old, we might yield ourselves to His gracious summons, go down to our houses, humble, obedient believers in Him who came into this world to call sinners to repentance. Amen. FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven; and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.--_Matt. 16, 19._ Fixed in our Church calendar for the 29th of June is Saint Peter the Apostle's day. We do not, as a rule, observe these days, or minor festivals, as they are styled. And it may be asked why we have them given in our Church calendar and observe them at all. In answer we would say that we do not, like the Romanists, regard the saints as mediators, do not address prayers to them, nor ask them to pray for us. And we differ further from the Romanists in that we place none in our Church calendar as saints save such as are clearly set forth in that character in the Word of God. Rome is continually adding new saints to her list. Any one who has been eminently holy--in the odor of sanctity--is canonized by the pope, and his or her name placed in the calendar; and there are instances on record where other influences besides piety placed it there. We place the word "saint" before none but those who, we are sure from God's Word, are deserving of it. Nor even all of these do we thus honor. Enoch and Elijah were translated into heaven and are assuredly among God's saints. The same is true of Abraham and Moses, Joseph and Daniel. But we never speak of St. Abraham, St. Moses, and the like. In this matter we follow our Lord's rule: "He that is least in the kingdom," meaning the Church He came to establish, "is greater than he," and select for our list only New Testament persons; and here, again, those especially near to Him, such as the evangelists and apostles, and so we speak of St. Peter, St. Matthew, St. Paul. These we honor because Christ honored them. On his birthday each year we extol the virtues of a Washington; on Reformation Day we speak on the character and life-work of a Luther. Why should we not, therefore, on one day of the year, especially when it falls on a Sunday, note for our instruction what God in His Word has recorded of these favored servants? Only ignorance and prejudice could ever find fault with such an observance of these days and minor festivals which the Church in her wisdom purposes, and so from the lesson of this day would we regard the latter part. An important truth is it, a truth which has given rise to endless controversy, that this line sets forth to us. We shall inquire, _I. What is the office or the power of the Keys? II. How is it exercised?_ In the opinion of some, these words addressed to Peter on that memorable occasion when he confessed Jesus to be the Christ, the Son of the living God, gave to Peter a direction to take charge of divine affairs. The religious destiny of the race was placed in his hands. It was for him to save or condemn at will, and this power and commission he then turned over to his successor, alleged to be the pope at Rome. That was the common interpretation for hundreds of years. In consequence of that we have such happenings in history as that which took place at Canossa, when Henry IV of Germany, deposed from his royal office through the influence of the pope, came over the Alps to secure the Holy Father's absolution. He presented himself at the gate of Gregory VII, and made his humble petition. He was ordered to remain at the gate and abstain from food; he was further ordered to strip himself of the royal purple and put on hair-cloth. At the end of three weary days of penance, standing out in the cold and snow, and nearly famished, he was required to go into the presence of Pope Gregory and kiss his feet. Then this "vicar of God," as he styled himself, was pleased to say, "_Absolvo te_," "I absolve thee." And what child knows not the account of Tetzel, who, with an armful of indulgences and a chest bearing the inscription: "Soon as the money in the chest doth ring, the soul at once to heaven doth spring," sold as an article of merchandise, for so much consideration, so many and such great sins? The confessional, the extreme unction, the deliverance of souls from purgatory, these and other adjuncts and accessories that have risen from the claim of the Romish Church to the power of the keys, they allege were once given to St. Peter. But it rests, like so many other claims of that Church, upon a serious misinterpretation and perversion of the passage. In the following chapter our Lord says to the whole band of apostles: "Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." And this He said not only on one occasion to them all, but on several. On this particular occasion He said it especially to Peter because Peter had acted as the spokesman of the rest and rendered a grand confession. Never do we find that any command, blessing, office, or grace was ever conferred here or anywhere upon Peter which was not conferred equally and also upon all the apostles of the Lord. Nor can it be shown from the Bible, nor from the history of the Church in apostolic times, or from those who lived next after the apostles, that Peter ever asserted, or sought to assert, such authority. On the contrary, Peter, in his Epistles, invariably refers to himself as simply one of the apostles, in no way the superior of the others, and when the first Christian synod was held, though he was present, it was James that presided and gave the official judgment of the assembly. If God's authority prevails, we must dismiss the Romish dogma which would entrench itself in this text as a falsehood, without the remotest claim to our respect. No, not to Peter exclusively was given the power of the keys; not even to the twelve apostles exclusively, in the sense that it belonged to them personally. They received it as a power, a commission, which belonged to the Church. In the 18th chapter of St. Matthew, speaking of this very thing, the Savior directs: "And if he neglect to hear them, tell it to the Church; but if he neglect to hear the Church, let him be unto thee as an heathen man and a publican. Verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." Correctly does our Catechism define the office of the keys. It says: "The office of the keys is the peculiar Church power which Christ has given to His Church on earth, to forgive the sins of the penitent unto them, but to retain the sins of the impenitent as long as they do not repent." We learn, then, who is invested with this authority, _viz._, the Church, the congregation of believers. It is something which belongs to all Christians, not to one apostle only, or to twelve apostles only, but to every congregation that is met around the Word and the Sacrament. They have this jurisdiction and power. What jurisdiction and power? The power that attaches to the office of the keys is twofold. It is used to lock and to unlock, to fasten and to open the door. First, there is the power to fasten and to lock. We call this administering discipline. This is necessary to the health and life of the Church. In the Corinthian church a certain man was guilty of a nameless crime. Possibly of good social standing, his offense was winked at. St. Paul, however, exhorts the Corinthian congregation to deal summarily with him; he exhorts them to meet in the name of the Lord, and deliver this evil-doer over to Satan in the hope that he might come to his senses and be reclaimed--"for the destruction of the flesh," as the phrase is. In another place he writes: "I have written unto you not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner. Put away from among yourselves that wicked person." It was what we call suspension, excommunication, or the ban. It is not a pleasant duty by any means, as little as it is a pleasant thing to amputate, to cut off a member of the body; but if the member be gangrenous and a menace to the life of the body, and nothing but an amputation will do, then let it be done. A congregation is answerable before the Head of the Church; it must keep its membership and roster clear; it dare not permit among its membership impenitent and manifest sinners, those who are despisers of God's means of grace, the Word and the Sacrament, whose morals are a blot, whose lives are a stench in the nostrils of the believers and of the world. Such, after due hearing, exhortation, remonstrance, must be turned out. They have no place in the company of Christians. This is the exercise of the office of the keys in the one direction. In general, it is to be deplored that the Christian Churches do not exercise this power as they ought. It would mean the reawakening and recovery of many a sinner. The other part of the office of the keys is what is called absolution, the power to forgive sins. That power the Church has committed to it, as we heard in the text, by Christ Himself. There is much misconception on this among even Christians; to some it is no small stumbling-block. It need not be. The matter is quite simple and plain. Could Peter forgive sins? The Lord says so. Could the apostles forgive sins? The Lord says so. Can the Church, through its called ministers, forgive sins? The Lord says so. Yes, we may press the question still further and ask, Can every Christian forgive sins? What the Church, as the collective body of Christians, can do, that each Christian can do as an individual. Yes, every Christian can forgive sins. How is that to be understood? Peter, as Peter, as a man, could not forgive sins of himself and by his own authority. No man can forgive sins--that is a divine prerogative. But Christ gave to Peter the charge, the commission, to do so. The power, then, was not in Peter, but in the charge, the commission. When the Governor of our State issues a pardon and sends a messenger to deliver it, it is rightly and properly said that the messenger brings pardon to the prisoner. The power, of course, is not of the messenger, but of the Governor, as vested in the message of pardon. Equally so the Gospel is the message of pardon to sinful men. The ministers of Christ, as the messengers of the Churches, proclaim that message. The power of the pardon does not depend upon them, their general piety or impiety; the power of the pardon rests upon Him that gave it, the great Governor of the Church. And yet, can it not be justly, truthfully, and properly said in their case, as in the case mentioned, that the messengers bring pardon to the prisoners, that they forgive sins? So our Lord spoke, so our Catechism speaks, and so we may speak. Not the power of absolute forgiveness does the text confer upon the Church, but that of declarative forgiveness. But this declaration of forgiveness, it must be held, is real forgiveness. When the Church forgives sins, they are forgiven. The words of Christ say that as distinctly as words can say it. "Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them." The pardon brought by the messenger is a real pardon, as certain and valid as if the Governor had brought it himself. And so, declares our Catechism, when in the confessional service the minister pronounces the forgiveness of sins, you are to receive it as from God Himself and in no wise to doubt, but firmly to believe that by it your sins are forgiven before God in heaven. This is the teaching of God's Word in regard to the loosing power of the office of the keys. A comforting teaching it is. We Christians, it is true, have the assurance of forgiveness already in our baptism, in the general preaching of the Gospel, and in the Lord's Supper; but that does not make absolution superfluous. Battling, as we have daily to do, against flesh and blood, disturbed as we are by many a conflict, many a doubt, fightings and fears within, without, how uplifting the words of absolution addressed to you directly, individually: "My son, my daughter, be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee!" God preserve us from all abuse, perversion, and misunderstanding of His Word and ministry, and give us the comfort and blessing that come from both! Amen. FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And Ananias went his way, and entered into the house; and putting his hands on him, said, Brother Saul, the Lord, even Jesus, that appeared unto thee in the way as thou camest, hath sent me, that thou mightest receive thy sight, and be filled with the Holy Ghost. And immediately there fell from his eyes as it had been scales; and he received sight forthwith, and arose and was baptized.--_Acts 9, 17, 18._ We hear in the Gospel of this Sunday how by speech and by miracle our Lord called four of His disciples from their fishing boats to the labors of His ministry. His first selection fell upon persons from the humble walks of life, plain, unlettered fishermen, toilers for their daily bread in a lowly occupation. There was divine wisdom in the choice. Being of the common people, they knew the thoughts, feelings, and habits of the common people, and so could best adapt themselves and their preaching to the general masses. But the time came when God, for the propagation of His saving Gospel, for the upbuilding of His Church, needed another sort and stamp of man, a man whose learning, eloquence, and boldness should elevate the Gospel before the eyes of all the world. And then as now He was not at a loss to secure such a chosen vessel. We shall regard in these moments sacred to devotion the call or conversion of St. Paul. About the time that the boy Jesus was found in the temple seated among the doctors, both hearing them and asking them questions, far to the northwest of Jerusalem, in the heathen city of Tarsus, there was born a babe, born of strict Jewish parents, of the tribe of Benjamin, but also, because his father in some way had become a Roman citizen, also born to the rights and privileges of Roman citizenship. Being a bright child, of great natural gifts, he was given careful training at home in the schools of his native city, and then sent to Jerusalem, to finish his education under the care and tuition of Gamaliel, the most renowned rabbi of the Jewish land then living. His family, apparently well to do, spared no expense to make him one of the most learned men of his day; nor did they fail in their attempt, as his writings, masterpieces of composition and logic, abundantly testify. The first mention that we have of Paul, or, rather, at that time Saul, is in connection with the scenes that led up to the murder of Stephen, the first Christian martyr. When the Christian religion began to spread in the very center of Judaism, Jerusalem, great disputation arose between its followers and the Jews. And Saul, who belonged to the strictest sect of the Jewish religion, the Pharisees, and was a man of strong feeling and enthusiastic in temper, soon became involved in these discussions, and so we find that when the mob took Stephen and ignominiously stoned him to death, it says of Saul: "He was consenting unto his death," and that the murderers "laid down their clothes at a young man's feet named Saul." Nor did he stop here. His whole being was so aflame with religious zeal that he knew only one purpose of life, and that was to blot out the name of that detestable Founder of the new religion and His followers. Accordingly, we read in Acts that "Saul made havoc of the Church, entering into every house, and haling men and women, committed them to prison." And not satisfied with his work at Jerusalem, he began to extend his persecution to distant cities. The opening verses of this chapter read: "And Saul yet breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord, went unto the high priest, and desired of him letters to Damascus to the synagogues, that if he found any of this way, whether they were men or women, he might bring them bound unto Jerusalem." Damascus, in Syria, now the oldest city in the world, had opened its gates as a refuge to the Christians, and provided with legal papers from the high priests, he set out at the head of an armed and mounted force to bring those Christians at Damascus to terms. But he did not. In the affairs of men it ever remains true: Man proposes, God disposes, and most wonderfully did He dispose in the case of Saul of Tarsus. It was high noon in Syria, the sun standing in its zenith. On the road leading from Jerusalem to Damascus could be heard the clattering of horses' hoofs. The horsemen could already see the beautiful city rising upon their sight and its gates swinging open, when, suddenly, there came a flash from the sky, and "a light above the brightness of the sun" shone round about them, with such overwhelming effect that it struck the chief with blindness, smote him to the ground, and filled every man with terror and dismay. And to this brilliancy of light was added a clear and distant voice ringing through the air, "Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me?" Like pointed steel these words went down into Saul's heart. He had been persecuting the Christians, and now comes a voice from heaven, saying, "Why persecutest thou Me?" What! could it be possible that God identifies Himself with these people he, Saul, was seeking to destroy? Could it be true that He whom His nation had crucified was indeed the Messiah, risen and alive? Overcome with remorse, Saul raises his sightless eyeballs on high and asks, "Who art Thou, O Lord?" And back comes the quick reply, "I am Jesus, whom thou persecutest." That was too much for him. Here was the voice of Jehovah Himself,--what could he do but submit? Trembling and astonished he said, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" The victory was won. The Galilean had conquered. "Arise," said He, "and go into the city, and it shall be told thee what thou must do." For three days Saul lay sick in Damascus unable to see, to move, to eat and drink by reason of the great convulsions that had shaken up his body and soul, but during that time undergoing a change which has placed his name among the great and noble members of the kingdom of heaven. At the close of these never-to-be-forgotten days God sent to him one of the faithful disciples, or Christians, living at Damascus, Ananias by name. Ananias at first was very reluctant to go, having heard such evil report of the man, but the Lord had said, "Go," and that settled the matter. He found the dreaded Saul lying on his couch, addressed him with brotherly kindness, told him why he had come, and laid his hands upon him. "And immediately there fell from his eyes as it had been scales; and he received sight forthwith, and arose and was baptized." This interesting narrative shall we view as to the subject of conversion and as to its significance to the Church. Taking up some practical lessons on the subject of conversion: What was there in St. Paul's case that need not be looked for in other cases? And what was there in it that is common to every case? Let us look at St. Paul's case. He was called in a miraculous manner by the Savior. It was a miracle to prove the truth of Christianity in that early day. But now we have no ground to look for like circumstances in the conversion of any one in our day. If Saul of Tarsus saw Jesus appearing to him in the way, the sinner must not, for this reason, also expect to be visited by some remarkable call, dream, vision, or supernatural impression upon his mind. Again, Saul fell to the earth, and was in great distress of mind and body for three days. It does not follow from this that every unconverted person must be in such distress before he can take a step in the right direction. The Ethiopian eunuch, of whom we read in the preceding chapter, received the Word without any such process, and "went on his way rejoicing." Of the three thousand who were converted in one day it is merely said: "They gladly received the Word and were baptized." Sometimes true Christians feel much uneasiness and anxiety because they cannot point to any such distinguishing moments in their experience. They have never passed through the mental anguish that others speak of. They have never felt as Saul of Tarsus must have felt those three days of blindness. Such persons forget that in most of the cases recorded in the Gospel there were no experiences of this kind, but conversion consisted simply in the cordial and quiet acceptance of the Lord Jesus. Again, in Paul's case there was something to fix the precise time of his conversion. He could name the day, the very hour, when he fell upon the ground trembling and afraid. Is it, therefore, necessary that every believer should be able to designate the precise time of his conversion? Not one Christian out of ten can tell the date of his conversion. It is generally the case that the grosser the sins are, the more marked will the change be. When any one who has made himself conspicuous in crime and wickedness is converted, it is like the lighting of a candle in a room utterly dark. There is a sudden change from darkness to light. It is, therefore, easy to fix the precise time when darkness ceased and light prevailed. But the case is very different from those who have been molded and influenced from youth up by religious teaching and training. How was it possible for Timothy to tell when he commenced to be a Christian? He was instructed from his youth in the Holy Scriptures. He could not remember the time when he was not pious and God-fearing. He always belonged to the Lord--in his childhood, in his youth, in his manhood. The same is true of John the Baptist. How could he tell when he was converted? He was sanctified from his birth, we are told. Where, then, was there room for a sudden and marked change in him? Yes, I am free to remark that it is just what God wants in the case of each one. He does not want us to know the precise time of our conversion. He does not want any one to give a part of his life to sin and Satan, so that a sudden, marked, and definite change seems necessary. He does not want you to act the part of an infidel for awhile, in order that you may be able to tell us the day or the hour when you became a believer. No, God wants your whole life; from beginning to end it is to be consecrated to God, our Savior. And does it not follow from this, that the more faithfully our children are instructed in the doctrines and duties of our holy religion, in the family, in the Sunday-school, and in the catechetical class, the less the number will become of those who can point to the particular time of their conversion? The whole work of the Sunday-school throughout and the whole work of the pastor in the catechetical class has this grand object in mind, to make a Timothy out of every child, one who is instructed in the Holy Scriptures from his youth, and who knows no time when he did not belong to the Lord. Finally, we may observe that Saul's conversion was unsought by himself. He set out on his way to Damascus full of hatred against Christ and His disciples. He had not a single desire to become His follower. In this also his conversion is singular. We are not to expect, as some seem to do, that we may carelessly continue in our worldly affairs, or in sinful pleasures, or in other opposition to God; and nevertheless some time Almighty Grace will strike us to the ground, and raise us up Christians. God may do that, but the general rule is that God does not do that. The general rule is that God is found by those who seek Him. The eunuch was reading the Scriptures when Philip preached Christ to him. Nathaniel was meditating and praying under the fig-tree when he was led to the Savior. Lydia was at the place of prayer when the Lord opened her heart, and she attended to the things spoken by Paul. The Samaritans were listening to Philip's preaching when they were brought to believe. All were using the means of grace, and were brought to a saving knowledge of the truth. So with us this day,--by the Word of God, in private reading, in public preaching He converts souls. In this particular conversion, Paul's case differs from others.--What, however, do we find in every case of true conversion, no matter how varied the circumstances are? Conversion is to turn from the love and practice of sin, and through faith in the Son of God to the love and practice of holiness. When a man has conviction of sin, believes in, and depends on, Jesus as His Savior, he is converted, and it matters not how, when, or where. Never could there be such a conviction, such a belief, such a striving, unless there has previously been a change, and that change we call conversion. Believe it that when a man can look up like the man Saul of Tarsus, and say, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" he is a converted man.-- Viewed as a public event in its significance to the Christian Church, the conversion of Paul is one of the strongest external proofs furnished us in the Bible for the truth of the Christian religion. If it can be established that Saul became Paul, then the Gospel must be true, and all that it tells us of Jesus as our divine Lord and Redeemer must be true. And there has never yet been a man who has dared to deny the historical truth of this conversion, or to contradict that Saul _did_ become Paul. At the beginning of the last century Sir Gilbert West and Lord Lyttleton, two great literary lights of England, determined on a masterstroke for the suppression of the Gospel. It seemed to them that the two greatest miracles of the Christian religion were Christ's resurrection and Saul's conversion. Gilbert West agreed to write a refutation of the resurrection of Christ, and Lord Lyttleton a refutation of the conversion of Saul. At the conclusion of their work they met by appointment. Lord Lyttleton asked, "What is the result of your work?" The answer was: "I have thoughtfully investigated the resurrection of Christ, and have come to the conclusion that He who is said to have come forth from the sepulcher of Joseph's garden was, as He claimed to be, the veritable Son of God." And Lord Lyttleton said: "I have fully investigated the narrative of the conversion of St. Paul, and am satisfied that this man, on his journey along the Damascus highway, really saw Jesus of Nazareth, and that this Jesus was the very Christ of God." No other conclusion can be reached as we enter upon the study of the character of the man, and the results that have come from that event. To finish our meditation with a personal application: St. Paul, whose conversion we have considered, wrote much for the instruction of all after ages, but he never penned more memorable words than these, words which perhaps have been oftener quoted than any sentence of any writer that ever lived--may God enable you to take the words home to your heart--: "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of which I am chief." Paul's conversion is a beacon-light to encourage us never to despair for the worst and most hopeless of sinners. If Grace could take a blasphemer and persecutor like Saul, then there is hope for you and for me. May we realize it! Amen. SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.--_2 Tim. 3, 5._ Things are not always what they seem. There is much deception, sham, pretense in this world. And religion forms no exception; much that passes under that name is not such in reality. The text just quoted distinguishes between "the form of godliness" and "the power of godliness," thus intimating that there may be one without the other. All created things indeed have some form. We cannot think of anything without form. Every essence and substance manifests itself in some shape, through some medium, external substance; and so religion finds expression in outward forms, in prayer, in this institution called the Church, in that Book called the Bible, in the sacraments and other ordinances. But, whilst we cannot have religion without form, there may be form without religion. Not every eye sees, though it was created for that purpose; not every ear, though it have the perfect form, hears. We discover eyes without seeing and ears without hearing, and in like manner we discover the form of godliness with none of its power. A man may appear very religious, and yet not be religious. The Bible and history both are full of such. Thus, St. Paul in his day came to the city of Athens and was constrained to confess: "I observe, O men of Athens, that ye are exceedingly devout." Judging by the form, he saw, in that representative city of heathenism, a great degree of religiousness and devotion; gods and goddesses, altars and temples, stood on the right hand and on the left, carved out in the most exquisite marble, with the most exquisite skill. Every public edifice was a sanctuary. The theaters were ascribed to the deities. As any scholar of ancient history knows, the streets and markets, the groves and public places were full and overflowing with the figures and statues of Jupiter and Diana, and every other god and goddess which their imagination had invented. Yes, the men of Athens were exceedingly religious, and, withal, they were notoriously ungodly, and Paul could not help expressing himself to that effect. Again, take the religionists mentioned in to-day's Gospel--the scribes and the Pharisees. As to the form of religion, they were scrupulous to the last degree. On their phylacteries, and on the frontlet which they wore between their eyes, were passages of Scripture such as: "Hear, O Israel! The Lord, your God is one Lord." They fasted twice in the week, more than the law required. They paid tithes, not only of the common products of the field, but of their garden herbs, mint, anise, and cinnamon. They were extremely careful as to their cleansings. Thus the washing of hands in the six books of the Mishna, written by the Jewish rabbis, is prescribed: One and one-half eggshells full of water must be used; the hands must be lifted in a certain position when the water is poured upon them; then the right must rub the left and the left the right; then they must be held in a downward incline, palms upside down, so that the water may drop off. And the towel must be properly held. Thirty chapters alone in that Jewish book treat of the cleansing of cups and platters. And yet, in spite of all this scrupulosity and punctiliousness and ceremonialism, the Savior had occasion to declare in the opening words of to-day's Gospel-lesson: "Except your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no wise enter the kingdom of heaven." The form was there, the show of godliness, but something vitally essential was missing; our text calls it "the power." Nor would we confine this formation of religion to ancient heathen or Judaism. An acquaintance of mine tells of a scene recently witnessed in the city of Mexico. A company of men were shuffling cards, and casting dice, and indulging in profane and unholy jests in a drinking-house, when suddenly the ringing of a bell was heard without. A procession of priests was passing through the streets bearing the consecrated water to the bedside of the dying. At the sound all in the iniquitous place fell upon their knees and muttered their prayers. The bell ceased, and they resumed their pleasure. What was this but the form of godliness without the power? Nor need we go to distant Mexico to find the same manifestation among the devotees of the same religion,--ceremonialism, grand and spectacular, the waking early at the break of day to perform one's worship, the lighting of candles and bending of knees before graven images, the ceaseless twisting of the rosary beads, and making of crucifixes and anointing with holy oil and water. What are these but the forms of godliness without the power thereof? Let us not be uncharitable, but the words of the Savior press themselves upon one's lips: Except your righteousness exceed that which so garbs itself, and puts in the place of Christ another's righteousness, which is the righteousness of such hollow ceremonies, pretensions, and good works, it shall not avail to enter into the kingdom of God. And is Protestantism exempt? Are there no formalists among those who profess to be members of, and visit, our churches? Is there no outward ceremonial observance there, no form of godliness without the power thereof? As we pointed out, everything has a form, and that form needs attention. Injure the shell, and the kernel will be impaired. Refuse to give due respect to your body, and its immortal tenant, the soul, will leave it. And so in religion. The outward must be attended to. It will not do to say, I need not go to church, God is everywhere, I can worship Him just as well under the trees of the park, under the blue canopy of the great temple of Nature, as in the four walls of a building. The church is God's; it is there He has recorded His name, and promised to convey His grace and blessing as nowhere else. Godliness and churchliness are joined together, and it is not for any man to divorce them, to put them asunder. The godly man, it will ever be found, is the best churchman. It will not do to say: I can be just as good a Christian and stay away from the sacrament of the Lord's Table,--it is only a form. Granting it is, it is a form which God has commanded by and through which He communicates life and salvation to men's souls. You do not despise to drink the water of the Mississippi River because it flows through pipes and comes out at the faucet. And so you ought not reject life, grace, and salvation promised by God, because He has laid it down for you in the partaking of bread and wine in His sacrament, which is the channel by and through which He conveys it to your soul. The same may be said of all the ordinances of religion,--prayer, the reading of the Bible, the saying of prayers. These things must be attended to. They are the forms in which it expresses itself--takes shape. And yet, we must beware of mistaking the shape for the substance, the shell for the kernel, the body for the soul. Going to church as a mere form saves no one; neither does going to the Sacrament. To read the Bible, for instance, merely to find out what a fine literary product it is, has no religious value; and to mumble one's prayers in a thoughtless and spiritless way, our Lord tells us, is worthless, yes, it may be an abomination to Him. What good does food do you if you do not digest it, take the strength out of it, the necessary qualities? Equally so with the spiritual food. Religion as a form, a mere external life, a show, avails nothing; rather, it is a snare of delusion by which men may deceive themselves and others. When, then,--that is the question to which our text leads up,--when have we the form of godliness together with the power thereof? In order to have true religion, two things are necessary, the new birth and the new life. First, the new birth. "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." Religion, first of all, above all, aims at and affects the heart. It is this which is primarily concerned. "This people," the Lord complains, "draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoreth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me." "Give me, my son," my daughter, "thy _heart_," is the request of the merciful Lord. Whoever has sat under the pulpit of God, listening to His instructions and exhortations, or scanning the pages of His Holy Word, that has not had his feelings stirred and his soul warmed after the manner of those two disciples on their way to Emmaus, to whom the risen Lord opened the Scripture, whereupon they confessed, "Did not our heart burn within us?" Whose bosom has failed to beat higher with noble resolution and holy endeavor when kneeling before his God in prayer or at the sacred Communion? In a word, whose inner life has not been touched by the Spirit of God, and who has not undergone a change of mind which brings him to see things by faith in Christ, in a new light? The promise is: "With the heart man believeth unto righteousness." "If thou shalt believe in thine heart, thou shalt be saved." The heart belongs to true religion, and true religion belongs into the heart. This is the first requisite and essence of godliness--a new heart. The other requisite is the new life. It is the natural and the necessary outflow of the new birth. When the heart has been changed by the Spirit of God, the new life will show itself. The Lord once remarked, "By their fruits ye shall know them." You cannot be a bad citizen, an undutiful parent, a spiteful husband, a fretful, quarrelsome wife, an unscrupulous business man, and, at the same time, a good Christian. It does not exhibit the power of godliness to listen devoutly to a sermon on righteousness, and temperance, and purity, and straightway imbibe freely from the intoxicating cup, speak words of profanity, and do things that are tainted. If you would discover if the works of a clock are right, we look at the hands; so by our hands and deeds we may test whether our hearts are right. You cannot be in possession of an evil tongue, of a lustful eye, of a covetous, selfish, miserly hand, and, at the same time, of a pious and devout mind. If our text teaches anything, it teaches that godliness is a "power," an energy which renews and sanctifies men. But when there is power, it exerts and manifests itself. Then there must be, in order to have true religion, a regenerated heart and a corresponding life. How, then, to make a few direct words of application, is it with you, my dear hearer? One of the chief sources of offense, they tell us, is that those who profess godliness are so woefully short of it. "They are everlastingly running to church, praying, and hymn singing, but they live and act like heathen." Not infrequently that charge comes from an ugly and malicious, fault-finding spirit. Let us see to it that it is only that, a mean, unfair charge, that, as far as we are concerned, it be not true. Let us in the light of our text see to it that we have not only the form of godliness, but the power thereof, that our heart is right with God, and endeavor earnestly and conscientiously to make our head and tongues and hands right. God strengthen us in this resolution! Lord Jesus, it is Thy religion we profess. Keep us by Thy Holy Spirit to be true disciples of it, to our soul's welfare, our fellow-man's uplift, and Thy glory. Amen. SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?--_Luke 12, 6._ Our Lord always spoke in the plainest possible terms. Whenever a vital truth was to be stated, an important doctrine to be set forth, He did it in language so clear that no one could misunderstand. The statement of our text this morning shares that quality. "Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?" The little creature mentioned is one of the most insignificant that could be thought of; the Lord selected it just for the sake of that utter insignificance to bring out a significant and all-inspiring truth. That truth is this: that God is in relation with everything that exists; that He superintends all; that there is nothing so minute as to be overlooked or forgotten. We call this the doctrine of God's providence, and a most prominent teaching of God's Word it is, as also one of the most cheering and practical. Prompted by the Gospel-lesson of to-day, which shows us our blessed Lord as providing miraculously for the four thousand with seven loaves and a few small fishes, let us _I. seek to establish the doctrine of God's providence_; _II. show its application and effect upon us and our lives_. "I believe that God has made me and all creatures, that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still preserves them," thus we confess in the explanation of the First Article of our Creed, and what our Catechism thus confesses, the sacred Scriptures with especial clearness teach. God did not only, as some are willing to admit, create the universe, but He also now governs it personally and completely. It is the theory of our modern evolutionists and materialists that God has left the world to govern and develop itself, that, having placed it under certain natural laws, it must take care of itself, wholly independent of God's interference. As Melanchthon once characterized their position: "They think of God as a shipbuilder, who, when he has completed his vessel, launches it and then leaves it, or like a clock which you wind up, and then let run off." A different impression is that received from God's Holy Book. That assures us that, so far from turning over His government to unalterable laws, so far from retiring from His works to dwell apart in His own unapproachable Godhead in some distant sphere, unconcerned and uncaring for such a world and such creatures as we, there is nothing done, nor said, nor thought, nor felt by man but He knows it and notes it, and orders His dealings with reference to it. His providence includes every event,--the rise and fall of nations and states, the experiences and vicissitudes of the Church, the occurrences of the history of each family, the unnumbered instances which make up the life of each individual, no matter what their character. His supreme hand is in and over them all. Those words which we so commonly use in daily speech--chance, accident, strictly and consistently regarded, are untruthful, for there is no such thing as chance, an accident; nothing happens but it has been determined in His wisdom, and is sent, directed, or permitted according to His will. Chance or accident rule in nothing--God's providence in all. What more satisfactory assurance would we desire for that than what is told us in the text? It was a customary thing to see sold in the market-place of Jerusalem, as an article of merchandise, the little creatures here mentioned. The price was a minimum, five sparrows for two farthings, equal at the most, to two cents of our money. Our Lord, in referring to it, calls attention to the little regard taken by men of this poor little bird, and brings out in vivid and grand contrast the regard taken of it by God. "And not one of them is forgotten before God." Elsewhere, in one of the Psalms, God says: "I know all the fowls upon the mountains, and the wild beasts of the field are in my sight." We watch in their season of immigration the flight of birds, when in long flocks they cross the sky, passing from the North to the South, or back again. To think that each in those countless tribes is known, as if by name, to its Creator, not one confounded with the other in the view of God! We observe the tiny sparrow as it skips from ground to housetop, busily gathering its food, or the frail materials wherewith to construct its nest below our house roof; how little we reflect that every one of them is numbered in that sight which nothing can escape, and that in the ephemeral history of the poor little bird, of which the great God and Savior deigns to speak, not one item is forgotten, each is seen and known and retained in a faithful memory; "not forgotten," implying a knowledge that lasts, a consideration though the thing known may no longer exist. This, then, is the way we are taught to think about our God. All things that transpire, all that has been and shall be--all are embraced within the circle of God's unforgetting, all-remembering knowledge, vision, providence. That is the Christian doctrine as taught by our Lord in such plain illustrations as this, and as preached by His apostles on the pages of the Old and New Testament throughout. Let us now ask of the application. That it means something to us when the Lord says about God's not forgetting one of the sparrows sold in the market-place of Jerusalem is a matter of course. What does it mean? The doctrine of God's providence is, we would thus consider it first, a stern and restraining truth. Consider for a moment,--there is nothing about you, or in you, or of you, but God knows and sees it all, the thoughts of your mind, the desires of your heart, the motives of your deeds. He spieth out all your ways, He understandeth your thoughts afar off. Yesterday, for example, He saw you when your eyes first opened to the light, and He traced your steps till they closed once more in sleep. You know what you did, and He also knows. You may have thought yourself unobserved, and some things there are which you should prefer to forget, wish that you could conceal them, ashamed or afraid to have them known. God does not forget, from Him you cannot conceal; all the while you are standing in the concentrated blaze of a light, brighter than the brightest sun, and eyes that see everything are reading you through and through. That is, as stated, a stern and awful truth. But let us not deceive ourselves concerning it. Let us remember that there is no privacy anywhere for us, though we may long for it, and many live as if they had it. Our follies and vanities, our erring steps, our ugly temper and evil disposition, every idle word that you spoke, every oath that has fallen from your lips, every vile action, every dollar you have wasted in luxury, folly, or withheld in miserly selfishness, every influence you have exerted, apt to lead a brother or sister astray,--God sees and knows them all. You are read like a book by the Reader of the lives of all men. Man, my beloved hearers, needs a check upon him, a hand to keep him straight. He has it in this belief. A person cannot go far wrong who believes that God sees and knows all. The sense of His nearness is a moral force, a thousandfold greater than any other that can be named. He that thinks thus of His God is ever putting to himself the question whether God approves what he is about at any given moment. That saves him; it acts as a constant check; it is a lantern to his feet, a light to his paths, a bridle to his lips. And God knows we all need to be so held in. That communities are defiled, that the social order is imperiled, that men are shocked at the growing ravages of sin, and souls are ruined one by one, we may trace these things to their sole cause, the losing sight of the fact that God's eye is on them always, and that they are accountable to Him for what they do. Let the doctrine of God's providence be generally rejected, and it is only a question of time till that comes to pass again which once occurred in the days of Noah, when God saw that the wickedness of man was great, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. Here, then, is a truth which may be called the beginning of the moral law, the foundation of Christian ethics, the Alpha and Omega of Christian practice. The doctrine of God's providence is a stern and restraining doctrine. But there is another side to the picture. To that shall we turn for the greatest comfort and peace that mortal man can know. "Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?" "Ye are," continues the Master, "of more value than many sparrows." If one of them cannot fall to the ground unnoticed by our Father, how much more in His thoughts, (that is the evident line of argumentation,) are we, His children, made in His likeness, redeemed by His own precious blood. What should there be for us each day and hour but loving, unwavering trust. It cannot fail to impress every reader of his Bible how it dwells continually upon this very point. Our Lord knew what a burdensome world this is, and how easily perplexed men are. He has sought in all possible manner and ways to bring home to us the truth we are considering. He has given us precious and numerous promises. "Trust in the Lord and do good," is one of them, "So shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed." Another is: "Whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe." Still others: "My grace is sufficient for thee:" "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." These might be multiplied from the Scriptures by the score and hundred. And again He has sought to impress His divine providence upon us by numberless examples. There is, for instance, Noah. Noah trusted Him, and lo! when the fountains of the great deep were broken up, and the floods rose, and millions of the ungodly sank into a watery grave, sheltered and shut in by God's protecting hand, the ancient saint outrode the deluge in safety, with his family. Elijah, alone yonder in the wilderness, in time of famine, trusted Him, and, behold, even the ravens, divinely bidden, came flying with bread to feed him. And so David, and Daniel, and Peter, and all of God's illustrious saints whose biography the Bible records, put their trust in His governing providence, and never were ashamed, and their experience has been the universal experience and testimony of all who have ever really put their faith in Him, and that applies as much to us as to them. Come what will, the true and trusting child of God feels secure. "Have we trials and temptations, is there trouble anywhere?" Is ghastly pestilence mowing down its victims? Is financial depression over all the land, labor unobtainable, wages low, and bread scarce? Has sickness prostrated one? Has death broken the family circle, and is the heart bleeding under bereavement? In the midst of it all the Christian sees the wise, loving, all-governing providence of God, the almighty and all-gracious hand of His own divine heavenly Father; and in this assurance, that God is thus in all that befalls him, his soul is filled with abiding calmness. There is nothing, amid it all, which is more calculated to banish our cares, to throw sunshine across life's path, to make us more content, than the belief that our God holds the reins of universal rule, and that all is controlled and guided by His wise and kind hand. And this, to conclude, also gives a Christian strength and encouragement in his work. The thought that God is near us, the feeling that He is working with us, gives an impulse, a force which nothing else can impart. To rise in the morning with that sense of divine presence, that God sees all our endeavors, is to take up one's work with an entirely different mood than where that feeling is missing. Nor are we then easily discouraged; it gives us renewed inspiration, the courage required for long, steady, earnest work. We have considered a glorious truth of Christian doctrine from the lips of Him who never exaggerated, never erred. Lay hold of it, believe it, not languidly, but as a power in your lives, and be happy in such belief. Amen. EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. O Timothy, keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoiding profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science falsely so called.--_1 Tim. 6, 20._ Everything in this world is liable to be spoiled. There is nothing safe against the doings of corruption. The holiest things are often perverted, the richest flowers blasted in their bud. Man himself, as the Psalmist tells us, was made but a little lower than the angels, but his glory was soon tarnished, and he frequently sinks a little lower than the brute. There is none, though he appear as a veritable saint among men, who is beyond the reach of danger. And it is so also with religion. Beautiful as is religion, and pure as it is, coming from the mind and bosom of God, it is liable to be spoiled in the hands and hearts of its professors. Such at least is the teaching of the text and the testimony of experience. Just like the crystal mountain stream in its course from the virgin spring down to the ocean gathers some of the unclean and filthy deposits of the shores it washes, so the waves of religion, in flowing through many lands and hearts, have taken up some of their noxious and poisonous ingredients; while purifying and refreshing the earth, the noble river contracts some of its corruptions. The Jews, for instance, had a pure religion, communicated to them by the patriarchs and prophets, but heathenish elements were continually mingling with it. Moloch and other hideous idols would now and then stand in the very presence of Jehovah's temple, and the priests of Baal oft took the place of the sons of Aaron. When Christ came, the Jewish religion was exceedingly tainted and corrupted with Gentileism and other defiling influences. The Christian religion in its turn has fared no better, starting out on the pure basis of its divine Master's directions; but it has been subject to the same influences. It was given to the world as a plain, simple system. But when kings and emperors began to take it into favor, magnificent outward ceremonies were instituted, privileged orders were appointed; bishops and other high authorities were set up, claiming extraordinary power, and at last what started as Christianity became little more than baptized heathenism. Masses, penances, and confessionals took the stead of Christ and His righteousness. In place of the old heathen gods were placed patron saints. Venus of the Greeks became Mary of the Christians. The true glory of the Church was gone, until God in His mercy turned back the tide to His own Revelation and Book, the Holy Bible. That was in the days of the Lutheran Reformation. But that did not settle matters; the soil of misguided religion and of man's perverted opinion has been defiling, and is still defiling, its pure and holy waters. It need not be. Christianity is as simple as simplicity can be, its teaching is as clear as is the sunlight in its noonday radiancy; but, of course, it must be guarded, protected against corruption on the part of man's delirious and sickly reason. This is the caution St. Paul makes in our text to his beloved pupil Timothy, when he directs him: "O Timothy, keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoiding profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science falsely so called, which some professing have erred concerning the faith." There are two classes of science falsely so called that have erred concerning the faith. The one is the worldly science, and the other the Christian Science, and concerning both classes I would ask for your most careful attention. When speaking of science, it must be observed at the outset that true science and the Revelation of God are not at variance. How can they be? The Book of Nature and the Book of Religion have been written by one and the same Hand, and cannot contradict each other. What man by investigation can find out in nature cannot be of a character to make him doubt or deny the truthfulness of religion as laid down in the Bible. But this is what some of the men of supposed higher learning are doing. They look askance at religion. They shake their wise heads, and, putting on their eye-glasses, superciliously state that the Bible is not what people think it is. They are willing to admit that it is a book of much good history, a book of sublime poetry, a book of excellent moral precepts, a book which admirably describes human nature, a book from which all men may gather a great deal of practical wisdom and comforting promise, but many of its texts are spurious or faulty, it is not altogether up to date in their opinion. The geologist has bored into the earth, and found that the various compositions must make it much older than Moses seems to say. The astronomer has put his telescope into the heavens and finding our planet, the earth, the smallest among heavenly bodies, considers it too insignificant to be the object of all that divine concern the Bible speaks about. The anatomist has examined the skulls of dead men, and comparing the one with the other, questions whether they have all proceeded from one human pair. The natural historian has never found a race of snakes with power of speech, and so he puts down the account of the serpent in Eden as a myth. The people of the earth speak hundreds of languages, and hence it must be a mere dream that there was once a time when "the whole earth was of one language and one speech." Miracles, they say, are so contrary to the general experience of mankind that they must be rejected as falsehood and fiction, and thus might we continue to give the objections of these wiseacres, called scientists, who are looked up to with undisguised admiration by numbers. It would lead us too far, though nothing might afford us greater pleasure to examine these objections in their true light.--We will only ask, How do these wise people know what length of time it took the almighty God to form the various strata which compose the crust of the earth? How can they tell that this world of ours is too small to engage Jehovah so deeply for its welfare? How can they prove that the human race and language do not extend back to one common stock? How dare they deny the credibility of miracles in the face of the many wonders which are spread about them every day, and appear every season in their sight? What authority have they for their high-sounding, but hollow assertions? They think themselves wise, but in fact they are but babes in these matters, and those who follow them are their senseless dupes. The truth is that with all the advances of knowledge which have so wonderfully marked the last three hundred years, searching heaven and earth and sea, knocking at every door and gathering wisdom from every source, there has not come to light one truth to contradict these holy records, or to require the relinquishment of one word in all the great volume of God. Only a few instances to prove what I state. It has been but a few years since Newton laid open the laws of gravitation, and yet the Scriptures spoke of the earth being hung "upon nothing," as if familiar with the whole subject, before human science had begun to form even the feeblest guesses in the case. Again, take the theory of wind currents, and of the circulation of the blood, why, read the 1st, 6th and 12th chapters of Ecclesiastes, and observe where Solomon describes it at least 2,500 years ago. And so in every case. You may lack understanding or research, you may fail to grasp its truth, by reason of its being too wonderful to you, but as far as being false and spurious, let no man dare to raise that charge against God's religion and Book. Our wisdom, at best, is only fragmentary, as St. Paul says, "We know only in part." No man, not even a scientist, is the personification of all wisdom, and ought not so consider himself. Let every man be a liar, but never accuse God's truthfulness. Avoid such, as St. Paul says in our text, as being profane and vain babblings and oppositions of science falsely so called. This, then, as much as worldly science is concerned, and now let us turn to the other species which calls itself Christian Science, but which is neither Christian nor Science,--not Christian, because it has erred from the faith, as our text puts it, and not a science, because, to quote our text again, it is falsely so called. It might be well to approach the matter more closely. In the first place, it must be noted that Christian Science is nothing new; it is, to be candid, a rehash of what is termed in Church History, Gnosticism. In the early Christian Church, about the year 200 after Christ, there arose certain heretics, Montanus and his prophetesses Maximilla and Priscilla, who advocated theories and things similar to those in our days advanced with so much zealousness by the late Mrs. Mary Baker G. Eddy, the founder and high priestess of the Church of Christian Scientists. These heretical views referred to also found adherents in the early Church, so that the excellent Bishop Irenaeus, of Lyons, wrote a book against them called, "The Refutation of Christian Science falsely so called." Mrs. Eddy very deftly succeeded in bolstering up these ancient opinions, and launched them forth in the various editions of her book called "Science and Health, with a Key to the Scriptures." I have carefully gone over that book, and I confess I am overwhelmed with shame to think that any one who lays claim to Christianity or to well-balanced reason can earnestly believe such matter. To mention only a few of her doctrines:--The Bible says 1 John 5, 7: "There are three that bear record in heaven: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and these three are one." Mrs. Eddy says: "The theory of three persons in the Godhead reminds us of heathen gods." In other words, she stamps the Christian doctrine of the Trinity as heathenish. The Bible says, Rom. 5, 12: "By one man sin entered into the world and death by sin, and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned." Mrs. Eddy calls this an "illusion," purely imaginary; there is no such thing as death. Naturally, then, in line with this, she also rejects Christ's redeeming us from sin, stating that the time is not distant when these common views about Christ's redemption will undergo a great change. In other words, while she mentions Christ's name with seemingly the greatest reverence in her book, she calls Him a fraud and deceiver, because the Bible tells us in just these words that Christ came to save His people from their sins, came to destroy the works of the devil, came to redeem them that were under the Law. But Mrs. Eddy spurns the existence of a personal devil, denies the existence of sin, and rejects redemption. Such passages as 1 John 1, 7: "The blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanseth us from all sin," are "hideous" to her. Her entire system is nothing else than unchristian bosh. I say "unchristian" because, on closer investigation, there is not a single particle of Christian doctrine and belief that she does not openly or indirectly at least overthrow. It is true, she claims "faith in the Bible"; the title of her book is, "Science and Health, with a Key to the Scriptures," but it is a key that binds, but does not unlock. Her comment to the very first verse of the Scripture: "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth," is this: "This creation consists in the developing of spiritual ideas and their identities, which are grasped and reflected by the unending Spirit." That may be Mrs. Eddy's creation of the world, but it certainly was not the creation which the first chapter of Genesis tells us about. But let us go on to the second chapter of the Bible. This does not suit Mrs. Eddy, as she expressly states it is diametrically opposed to scientific truth, and "inspired by falsehood and error," and in consequence she rejects the second chapter of Genesis entirely. We could go on at this rate, but enough has been shown to characterize Mrs. Eddy's "Key to the Scriptures." And alas! that men should be carried away with such barefaced craftiness and such thick-coated and consummate falsehood! Oh, may it teach us to love to study our Bible! But there is still another phase of Christian Science of which we must speak, would we do it justice, and that is the healing phase. Mrs. Eddy claims that she has restored the sick and brought back the dying to life. "Science and Health" and our community have been repeatedly agitated by specimens of this healing ability. It is well known to every one that Christian Science in its treatment of disease starts from the fundamental theory that there is no sickness and disease, as it says in their text-book, "Science and Health": "You call it neuralgia; this is all delusion, imagination. You expose your body to a certain temperature, and your delusion says that you catch a cold or get catarrh. But such is not the case; it is only the effect of your imagination." The consequence of this fallacy is that no medical remedies are resorted to; in fact, to a Christian Scientist ignorance of medicine is bliss. Mrs. Eddy warns against a knowledge of medicine as a hindrance to learning her system. Stopping here for a moment to show the unscripturalness of all this, I would but briefly call your attention to such passages as Is. 38 and 2 Kings 20, where we read: "And Isaiah, the prophet of the Lord, said to Hezekiah the King, Let them take a lump of figs and lay it for a plaster upon the boil, and he shall recover." Or, turning to an instance from the New Testament, St. Paul the Apostle writes in 1 Tim. 5, 23 to his afflicted pupil: "Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake and thine often infirmities," thus suggesting a medicinal tonic or medicine. Our Lord approved of physicians when He said: "They that be whole," that is, healthy, "need not a physician," which evidently implies that the sick do need a physician, and we know from Col. 4, 14 that there was a physician among the first disciples of the Christian Church, and that was none other than the man who wrote the third and the fifth book in the New Testament, namely, St. Luke. It says in Col. 4, 14: "Luke, the beloved physician, greets you." And moreover, when we read that in the days of His flesh the sick and the palsied and the lame, and those afflicted otherwise, came to Jesus and He healed them, does not Christian Science, denying that there is no sickness, no palsy, and no disease, brand our Lord as a liar and a fraud? God protect us from such abomination! But let us come to the final question: By what power or remedy does Christian Science heal, or, rather, claim to heal? Answer: By denying the existence of matter, of sickness, of death, and by seeking to give the mind complete mastery. Just imagine it is not so! Prayer is employed, but Mrs. Eddy does not attach as much importance to that as some of her followers, and from what we have heard, such prayer is not the prayer of faith, for she has far erred from God and the faith. God certainly does not answer such vain and profane babbling of lips that speak falsehood and lies. The whole Christian Science is a blustering, high-strung delusion. St. Paul gives a true characterization of it 2 Thess. 2, 9: "It is after the working of Satan, with all power and signs and lying wonders and with all deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish." God grant that we may "avoid profane and vain babblings and oppositions of science falsely so called." With our hearts firmly grounded in the simple truth as it is in Jesus, and laid down in the Volume before us, let us hold fast through God's grace what we have. It is the power, the only power, unto salvation. Amen. NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And He spake a parable unto them, saying, The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully. And he thought within himself, saying, What shall I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits? And he said, This will I do: I will pull down my barns and build greater; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry. But God said unto him, Thou fool! This night thy soul shall be required of thee; then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided? So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.--_Luke 12, 16-21._ It is a serious matter to call any man a fool. It ought never to be done except when circumstances make it imperatively necessary. Christ, you know, employs very strong language in reference to this in the Sermon on the Mount when He says: "Whosoever shall say to his brother: Raca, shall be in danger of the council, but whoever shall say: Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell-fire." But we must bear in mind that our Lord does not condemn the expression "Thou fool" in itself, but rather the spirit in which it is spoken. He does not affirm that it is wrong to say that a fool is a fool, even to his face, but that it is intensely wrong to do so from a feeling of hatred, from spite; and so when God in the words just quoted says to the rich man, "Thou fool," He says so, not because He hated him, but because it was a fact, because He pitied His miserable condition, and because He wishes to deter others from following his example. To deter others from following his example, by the guidance of God's Holy Spirit, is what we shall attempt to do in our pulpit instruction this morning. Permit me simply and briefly to direct your attention to two points in this striking parable, _I. That the rich man spoken of in this parable was in some respects a wise man_; _II. in some, and the chief respects, a foolish one_. That this man was in some respects a wise man, of this we have sufficient evidence before us. In the first place, he was a rich man. It says: "The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully." It is very often said that anybody can make money, that it requires no extraordinary powers to become rich, that those who have prospered in the world are more indebted to adventitious circumstances than to any merits of their own, and true it is that men without intelligence, without education, without genius, are sometimes, through a favorable combination of circumstances, enabled to accumulate a vast amount of wealth. Yet, as a rule, riches are acquired by those who work hard, who rise early and go to bed late, who devote themselves with untiring energy to the serious business of life. The great law is that "The hand of the diligent maketh rich." Success is a prize which can only be secured by those who diligently seek it. The very fact of this man being rich was in itself a strong proof of his prudence; for the two, riches and good common sense, stand, as a rule, connected. Again, we are told that the land brought forth plentifully. What did that prove? Anything further than that the land was fertile? It proved that he was a skillful farmer, that he cultivated his land well, that he knew how to make the most of it. For while it is true that the abundance of the harvest depends on many circumstances over which man has no control, such as the refreshing dew, the genial rain, and the life-giving sunshine, so that after man has done his best it is God who must give the increase, we ought also to remember that God invariably observes the laws which He Himself has established: He never causes corn to grow where seed has not been sown; He never makes the uncultivated soil bring forth at the same rate as that which is properly tilled; the smiles of Providence and the help of God do not attend the indolent, and the careless and thoughtless. If a man would reap abundantly, he must sow abundantly, use the brains God has given him, and conform to God's laws; and so, when the land brings forth plentifully, it is a proof that it belongs to a skillful and prudent farmer. And he was careful of his goods. He thought within himself: "What shall I do because I have no room where to bestow my fruits?" There was nothing wrong in this thinking, planning, and contriving. It would have been an unpardonable negligence on his part to let the corn rot in the fields for want of sufficient room to store it in, and it would have been hardly natural to expect him to distribute that for which he had no room among the poor. Doubtless it is the duty of those who are very prosperous to be also very liberal; according as they receive from God, so ought they contribute to God's institutions. But God nowhere commands them to give away _all_ they have to spare after supplying their own immediate wants. Men are perfectly justified in storing up for the future, in laying aside, and allowing to increase what they have no need of at the present. And it's the part of a thoughtful man who likes to make the most of his advantages and opportunities so to do. Say what people, demagogues, and unprincipled orators may, and envy them as they do, those who increase wealth in an honest way have an unquestionable claim upon our respect. They are, as it were, the sinews of human society. Wealth is a mighty agent in the spread of civilization and good. Without wealth, railroads could not be constructed, ships could not be launched, towns, mansions, and harbors could not be built, most of the conveniences and comforts of civilized life could not be secured. Barbarous nations, you will find, are always poor. This man, from all accounts, did not acquire his riches by defrauding his neighbors or by wild and hazardous speculations, but in the exercise of a legitimate and respectable calling; he was entitled to it, he was deservedly respected. Nor did he--in this there was also a degree of wisdom--deny himself the comforts which his possessions were able to afford him. He was not a tight-fisted, miserly fellow who half starved through fear of spending his money, denying himself the things necessary to make life more enjoyable. Rather the man who, like him, says to himself, Take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry, than the man who in possession of abundance of this world's goods denies himself its comforts. So far, then, we have many favorable traits in his character, some of which we might do well to imitate. He was an industrious, skillful, contemplating, wide-awake person who, in a business, social way, stood well with all who knew him. But this only makes the remaining part of his conduct, which we shall now consider, all the more deplorable. But God said unto him, "Thou fool." Why did God address him thus? Because, first, all his thoughts were centered upon himself. With him everything was _I_, _myself_, and _mine_. _My fruits_, _my goods_, says he, as if they were absolutely his own, as if he owed them entirely to his own skill and industry, and had a right to apply them to his own selfish ends. The man with all his worldly wisdom--and he has many like himself--had not mastered one very essential and elementary truth, namely this, that nothing that we have, nothing that we are, comes from ourselves; if we possess anything, we have either inherited it or earned it. If we have inherited it, it is not we who gave life, energy, power to those who have bequeathed to us what we have. If we have earned it, it was not we who gave ourselves the active brain, the strong arm, and steady nerve that did the work. At the most we have improved, made the most of a gift. Our powers, moral and intellectual, physical and spiritual, come from the Author of our life; our life itself is a gift. "It is God who hath made us, and not we ourselves." We do not exist as of right, we exist on sufferance and as a matter of bounty. We are stewards, trustees. We hold what we hold on trust, as life-tenants, for an unseen Lord. The first thing this man ought to have done when he found that his lands were crowned with plenty was to bow down before the heavenly throne and say: "Father of all mercies, I thank Thee that Thou hast remembered Thine unworthy servant, and hast so bountifully prospered the labor of his hands." But no, he says not a word about God or to God; all he said was about himself and to himself. "My" fruits and "my" goods--is his language. And as he received them without thought or thanks to God, he also used them. It is this feature which our Lord emphasizes when he remarks: "So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God." Selfishness is the basest of all sins. It is the most repulsive, degraded, and degrading form of depravity, and to our shame it must be confessed that it is the peculiar fault of man. The whole constitution of nature is a standing protest against it. No created object exists for its own sake, or to serve its own ends; but everything contributes its share to the well-being of the rest of creation. Think of the sun, the most glorious of visible objects, how from day to day, from year to year, it lavishes its light upon the earth, giving life and beauty and freshness to the vegetable and animal kingdoms. Or think of the clouds, how with unwearied constancy they drink the waters of the ocean, not to retain them in their own bosoms, but to pour them down in plentiful showers, both on barren mountains and on fertile plains; or how this earth, after supplying generation after generation, is as productive as ever, and its mines inexhaustible. Everything, in fact, seems to teach the grand doctrine that it is better to give than to receive. Man alone, Heaven's chief recipient, forms the contrast. He is selfish, and herein consists his folly. Can we think of these things, and not blush at our own selfishness? Again, his folly appears in this, that he provided only for the flesh, the least important part of his nature. 'Tis true, he talks about his soul, but only in such a way as if he hardly distinguished it from his body, and as if it ought to have been well satisfied with the things which his body only enjoyed. "And I will say to my soul," said he, "Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry." But God said to him, "Thou fool." He talked like a madman, like one beside himself, and hence he deserved the severest rebuke. For what is man? Not anything that he owns; not anything material that he can so handle as to make it serve his purpose; not even the bodily frame with which he will part company at death. Essentially, man is a spirit, enclosed in a bodily frame. The soul is the man, and that soul calls for first and best consideration. The contrary course is folly. It is quite proper for us to be careful of our bodies, to provide things suitable for our present condition; indeed, it is necessary to do so. Alas! that rational and heaven-born creatures should confine their attentions exclusively to, "What shall we eat, what shall we drink, and wherewithal shall we be clothed?" and utterly neglect their souls, feed their bodies sumptuously every day, and leave their souls to perish with hunger. Is this right? Is it reasonable to do this? Man has been created for a higher purpose, and his ambition ought to be higher than to find blessedness in eating, drinking, and sensual pleasures. These things cannot appease the cravings of his soul. Man needs God for his portion and Christ for his Savior; it is only as he believes the Gospel that true peace is his. And, lastly, he provided only for _time_, the least important portion of his existence. What a glorious place this world would be, what a glorious time it would be eating, drinking, and being merry, according to the ideal of the flesh, if--well, if it were not for one thing. What is that? The summons quoted here in our text. "Thou fool, this night shall thy soul be required of thee." "Many years," the man had said. "This night," God said, and from that decree there was no appeal and is no exception. That awful truth is applicable to every one of woman born and just as uncertain. Look around you, my dear hearers, within the circuit of your own experience, and see if you do not recognize the picture in the parable--an indolent, indifferent epicureanism whispering to itself, "Soul, take thine ease; don't be alarmed, eat, drink, and be merry," broken in upon by the same message flashed from heaven coming in a railway accident, in a sinking steamer, by death in the hunting field, or the river's waves, or by the sudden stoppage of the heart's action. "Thou fool, this hour thy soul shall be required of thee,"--and how do you know whether the next summons may not mean you? Learn from this parable the terrible uncertainty of human affairs, and, above all, learn from it the lesson of wisdom, _viz._, to look forward to the future, to forecast as to how it will be with you when the scenes and pursuits of this busy world will have ended. There is a life beyond this. Be wise, then, and provide for it. How? To speak with our text: "By being rich towards God." Hear the Gospel. Believe that Jesus suffered and died for you, reconciled you with God and heaven. Become members of God's kingdom on earth, the Christian Church. Make diligent use of the means of grace, the Word and the Sacraments, and thus be prepared and blessed in time and for eternity. Amen. TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. For as the body is one, and hath many members, and all the members of that one body, being many, are one body, so also is Christ. And whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or one member be honored, all the members rejoice with it.--_1 Cor. 12, 12 and 26._ There is, perhaps, nothing more remarkable, when you study the life of the Church at large and of each congregation individually, than the little interest which its members take in each other. In most cases the entire concern of the membership devolves on a few, or perhaps on the pastor alone; in many instances the amount of interest and sympathy which is shown to each other extends only to a formal, a very cool, social recognition; in some there is not even the interest which secures that. People go in and out of the same church-building, month after month, year after year, without as much as knowing, or caring to know the name of their fellow-member or worshiper. When difficulties arise and embarrassments, those who belong to the Christian Church feel no more liberty to call on a member of the Church for counsel or aid than they would on any other person; when disheartened and discouraged, in need of sympathy and a kind word, they have no reason to suppose that a single member of the Church sympathizes with them. And when living in the neglect of Christian duty, none of the members ever stop to administer an admonition or gentle rebuke to keep the backslider from a melancholy fall. In a word, people are left to take care of themselves very much alone; and this is the more remarkable when you consider the condition of those who largely make up the membership of a congregation like ours. Many of them are young and inexperienced in Christian life, gained from families where there is no religion, no kindred to help them on to God, rather, where they are exposed to influences that would draw them aside, and where every effort ought to be made to keep them in the fold. The reflections, my beloved, and the constant cry, "What is the Church doing for its members? See how other organizations are helping each other, how they care for their constituents," have led me to propose for our consideration this morning: _What are the duties which the members of the Church owe to each other?_ We shall inquire _I. What the Christian Church is_, _II. note a few traits which ought to distinguish its members_. May God's Spirit make the sermon a profitable one. First, what the Christian Church is. The Christian Church is an organization, a body, separate, different from all other organizations or bodies. It has a separate origin, a separate purpose. It has separate principles and law. As to its origin--the Church is divine. It is not a human institution. It is not a mere voluntary association, such as an Odd Fellows' Society, a Masonic Fraternity, a Mutual Improvement Club, an Insurance Company. None of these have in them any higher wisdom, authority, or goodness than human experience or contrivance has given them. It is different with the Church. God made the first Churches, and through them He made all other Churches. What the Church teaches in her creed is not from man, but from God. His revelation, the sacraments she administers, are divine institutions, God-appointed, and all the terms and the spiritual process by which people come to be part and parcel of the Church are directly from God. Men can no more make a Church than they can make a world. It is altogether a thing of God. Though human agencies are employed in its perpetuation, it is altogether of God. This, it may be well to emphasize, is a point which does not enter into the practical consideration of men as it should. People come to church or stay away the same as they would go or stay away from a lecture on human science, politics, or travels. They forget that in the one case they are dealing with men and the things of men, in the other with God and the things of God. They listen to the preaching of the Word as they would listen to a candidate for political favor, except with a little more drowsiness and indifference. They forget that it is but man speaking in the one case, and that it is God, though by a man, speaking to them in the other. People all gaze more idly upon a baptism or an administration of the Lord's Supper than upon the shams and mockeries of a stage play, not reflecting that the one is mere empty buffoonery, whilst the other is a transaction upon which angels are gazing with reverence, and in which God is setting forth the precious riches of His almighty grace. They are great on praising their unions, clubs, lodges, fellowships, regarding them as the very connections for true fellowship, benefit, and improvement, and setting aside that organization without which the good that is in those connections would never have been. The little light with which those societies shine is only a borrowed light, reflecting feebly the spirit and principles of the Church which they largely despise. Beloved, these are no hasty utterances on my part. They are the words of deliberation and truth. There is a laxative goodishness, a weak religiousness spreading in our Churches that holds other organizations just as good as God's organization. The fact is that the true and certain divinity, the God character of the Church, hardly enters any more into men's hearts. Let it be once rightly grasped and felt that the Church, as such, is a thing of God, that God's name and saving grace are linked with it, and that it is the channel, conservatory of heaven's truth and saving grace, by which alone men's souls are saved. Let those who profess to be Christians avoid any and every connection that holds teachings, rituals, prayers, and practices contrary to its teachings, prayers, and practices, and the Church would not be shorn so much of her strength and be so little thought of. If men are "brethren" in other connections besides the "brotherhood of Christ," which is the Church, hold with one hand to idolatry and with the other to Christianity, it need not be wondered that their zeal is a divided one, and, in most cases, the Church receives the smallest division. The first general thought, then, is this: The Church is God's. Says the text, it is the body of Christ, distinct from all man-made associations, and so to be honored. And what--to consider the second and larger part of our discourse--are some of the distinguishing traits of its members? By what are they to know each other and to be known of one another? Other societies have their pledges and badges. In some it is a secret sign known only to the initiated, the brethren of the craft; in others it is some peculiarity of speech or of dress, the cut of the cap or the hair. Now, it is remarkable that the Savior and His apostles prescribed no such external badge of membership, more remarkable because, perhaps, every society then, as now, could be known by such an outward badge. The Jew would be known everywhere by his broad phylacteries and the borders of his garments; the Roman soldier had some mark wrought with imperishable dye in the skin; the Greek introduced into the Eleusinian mysteries had some outward method of expressing that fact to the world. And nothing would have been easier than for the Savior to have appointed some such emblem for His followers. But in the sacred record there is not even a distant intimation of any such badge by which Christ's people or Christ's ministers are to be externally so distinguished. And yet, was there no badge, no mark of distinction? There was. What was it? Permit me, in answer, to quote a few passages. "A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another as I have loved you. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another." "We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren." "He that loveth not his brother abideth in death." "If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar; for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?" "Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love." "As touching brotherly love, ye have no need that I write you, for ye yourselves are taught of God to love one another." And the story of John the Apostle is well known. In his old age of 98 years he was carried to the Church, and when he was asked whether he had anything to say, he would feebly respond, "Children, love one another." Not by signs, peculiarity of dress, or password--by attachment for each other were Christ's followers to be distinguished the world over, in all ages. In His Church they were to feel that, regardless of wealth, learning, office, or other human distinctions, they were on a level, that they had common wants, had been redeemed by the same precious blood, were going to the same heaven, and were in every respect "brethren." And under this conviction of feeling they were to hold to each other, love each other. My dear hearers, did this love ever in the history of the Church form such a distinguishing badge? It did. The time was when the attachment of Christians for each other was such as to impress the world with the reality of their religion, and with the fact that they belonged to the family of the redeemed. "See," said the heathen in the early days of Christianity, "how these Christians love one another, and how ready they are to lay down their lives for each other." Is it so now? I answer for anything that you can tell, if persecutions were to arise, those scenes of ancient martyrdom story might be acted over again. But if there is not this love of which the Savior and His apostles speak as a distinguishing characteristic of His Church, let it be for all of us a matter of self-examination and reflection. I, as a servant of the Master, can only tell what He requires of His disciples. Again, a second trait and duty required,--they are to be characterized by sympathy for those of its members who suffer. The members of the Church are indeed expected and required to have sympathy for all who are afflicted, but the idea is that they are sympathizing with each other in a peculiar manner. Christians are exposed to the same kind of afflictions as others. They are liable to sickness and bereavement and poverty like others, and, in addition, they have sources of sorrow peculiar to themselves,--internal conflicts and struggles, persecutions and trials on account of their religion; and in these, as well as in the occasions of joy, they are supposed to find cordial sympathy and interest among their brethren. That is the idea set forth in the text when it says: "And whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or one member be honored, all the members rejoice with it." Such is the formation of our body, the constitution of the nervous fibers and the tissues, that pain in one part affects the whole frame; that joy in one part diffuses itself over all. A pain in the heart, the side, or in one of the limbs does not confine itself there, leaving the rest of the body in a state fitted for its usual employments, but every part sympathizes with that which is affected. And so the pleasure which we receive from beauty of objects seen by the eye, or from the melody and harmony of music as perceived by the ear, is diffused over the whole frame, and we are filled with enjoyments. So is the Church which is the body of Christ. What affects one member is supposed to affect all. What gives pain to one gives pain to all. What honors one honors all. As an injury done to a nerve in the body, though so small as not to be traceable to an unpracticed eye, may be felt at the remotest extremities, so is the body of Christ. The dishonor done to the obscurest member should be felt by all; the honor done to that member should produce rejoicing. Without any officious intermeddling with the private concerns of individuals, there should be such an interest felt in the common welfare of the whole that each might depend on the sympathy of his brethren at all times and in all circumstances. Say not that "So it is not." The consideration now, the Savior's teaching, is that so it ought to be, and that every member of His Church should strive to make it so. And one more duty must we mention, however briefly. It is this: As an essential to healthful congregational life there must be mutual admonition among the members. Here is the fundamental principle laid down by the Savior. "If thy brother shall trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone." You are not to blazon his fault abroad, you are not to allow the suspicion that he has done you wrong to lie, and rankle, and fester in your own mind. You are not to allow it to make you cold and distant, and evasive and repulsive when you meet him, without his knowing the cause; you are not to send an anonymous letter or a message by any one. You are to go to him and see him by himself, and give him an opportunity of explanation, or confession. It is a painful duty, and it is not a duty that devolves on the pastor, but according to the rule laid down by the Savior, upon a brother, _i. e._, clearly every one who is a member of the Church. Beloved, the more I study congregational life and gather practical experience, the wiser does the Lord's rule appear to me in preserving the welfare of the Church. Let us all strive to conform to it. Let us openly and frankly treat each other like brethren. If you have been offended by a brother, or if you have offended a brother, here is the rule that guides you; if you see a congregational member wandering from the path of true religion, going astray from Church and godliness, fail not to do your duty by him, by an attempt to admonish and reclaim him. We have set before us to-day what the Church is, and what the characteristics of its members are,--a peculiar love founded on their common hope of heaven, and their attachment to a common Savior, sympathy with each other in joy and sorrow, and a common interest and proper admonition when going astray. God grant that all of us may rightly understand and may strive to live up to these things, so that the Church may answer its high and holy purpose, the salvation of men's souls through faith in Christ, to whom in all matter be glory and honor forever. Amen. ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith, without the deeds of the Law.--_Rom. 3, 28._ Whoever has read his Bible with attention must have observed that there are some passages which, at first view, appear hard to reconcile. Take, for instance, the passage before us. St. Paul here says "that a man is justified by faith, without the deeds of the Law," and to confirm his assertion produces the example of Abraham. "Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness." St. James in his letter, the second chapter, produces the same example, that of Abraham, and draws from it a conclusion directly contradictory. He says: "Ye see, then, that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only." Can any two opinions be more opposite in appearance? And as may be expected, all manner of conjectures have been presented. I will not tire you with a tenth part of these interpretations. Only two shall I mention as a specimen. A writer of great eminence, recognizing the difficulty in its full strength, allows that it is not only hard, but impossible to reconcile the two apostles, and concludes that, since it is impossible to hold both their sentiments, we must abide by him who wrote the last. Accordingly, he gives up the doctrine of faith without works, supposing that St. Paul wrote with carelessness of expression, and that St. James wrote after him to clear up what Paul had obscurely or inaccurately expressed. Again we would note that our great Reformer, Dr. Martin Luther, having felt the power of St. Paul's doctrine in his own soul, that he would have defied an angel from heaven to oppose it, when his adversaries pressed him with the passage from St. James, styled it an epistle of straw, because, in his opinion, it did not urge Christ sufficiently strong. But what of an explanation of these apparently so contradictory passages? Is there an explanation? Indeed, a simple and satisfactory one. God's truth never clashes. When St. Paul speaks of justification, he means the justification of our persons,--how we may be accepted by a just and holy God, that is, by faith, and by faith alone, not by works. When St. James in his letter speaks of justification, he speaks of the profession as believers, how a man proves, shows, that he has faith, and that he can only show that he has faith in one way, namely, by his works. St. James, in his epistle, is addressing such of his day as _said_ they had faith, though it had no influence upon their hearts and conduct. He shows that their hope is vain. He asks: "What doth it profit though a man say he hath faith, and hath not works? Can faith save him?"--that is, can such an idle, empty faith save him? He quotes an example: "If a brother or sister be destitute, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled, notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body, what doth it profit?" Would such empty professions of charity prove a man to have charity? No more, does he argue, would a person's mere assertion that he has faith, unless it were followed by good works, justify his profession. A Christian's faith is proved to be what it ought to be by works, and not by mere empty profession of faith. And so the example of Abraham is pertinent in both cases. According to St. Paul, "Abraham believed," had faith in God, and God counted it unto him for righteousness, accepted him by faith, and being thus accepted, Abraham, already justified before God in person, showed that he had the true faith by the effects which it produced in his heart and life, and when God directed him to offer his son Isaac upon the altar, he obeyed. Thus, concludes the Apostle James, his obedience, his works, justified his faith, his profession as a believer. In a word, St. Paul speaks of the justification of our persons, and that is by faith, and by faith alone, and St. James speaks of the justification of our faith, and that is by works. Viewed thus, there is no discrepancy, no difficulty, and having taken up the subject, let us continue to consider these two statements, perfectly consistent with each other:-- _I. That there is no acceptance or justification for any of us with God but through Jesus Christ received by faith, and that in this concern of justification works of every kind are absolutely excluded._ _II. That where faith in Jesus Christ exists, it must show itself by works._ To begin with,--what is it for a man to be justified? When a person has been brought to trial for any offense and has been found guilty, he must make satisfaction for this offense. If he is able to make a sufficient satisfaction for his offense, either through his own ability or that of his friends, and the law accepts such an indemnification, the criminal departs from the trial justified. He is not, indeed, an innocent man, but he is so regarded by the law, and though guilty, he would be no more liable to prosecution and punishment for that offense than a person who had never committed it. Now this is the way in which we are justified before God. We are guilty beings; the sentence of eternal punishment is pronounced upon us; we have no ability of our own to make satisfaction to the court of the just Judge. But an almighty Friend has died to make satisfaction for us; God is ready to accept this satisfaction, and in consideration of it He releases us from the penalty of eternal death to restore us to His favor, in a word, to justify us, to treat us as innocent. A person who is found in Christ, having the infinite merits of his Savior to plead for his justification, is no longer liable to punishment. But how do we secure this satisfaction of an almighty Savior? Again the text answers: By faith. Take, in illustration, the incident of Peter's walking on the sea. We have in our natural state nothing more substantial under our feet to keep us from sinking into everlasting destruction than Peter had from sinking into the watery deep, and it is only when we realize our situation as he did, when we feel our entire helplessness and destitution of hope as he did, when we cast the imploring look and hold out the same suppliant hand, confident that He is able and willing to save, that we exercise a Gospel faith, receive all that Christ has ever done or suffered in our behalf. Faith is the hand that lays hold on the Savior, and so justifies. Again, "We are justified," is the Apostle's assertion, "without the deeds of the Law." In the first chapter of this epistle to the Romans, Paul labors to show that the Gentiles had sinned against the law of nature which was written in their hearts, and in the second and third chapters, that the Jews had equally transgressed their written Law, and then, having thus shown that all the world is guilty before God, he concludes: "Therefore by the deeds of the Law there shall no flesh be justified." In other words, that good works are of no account in our justification, they cannot set us right with God,--make us acceptable with Him, cannot gain His favor. That is the teaching of the Scripture and the doctrine of the Church. Declares the Fourth Article of the Augsburg Confession: "We teach that men cannot be justified before God by their own powers, deservings, or works, but are accounted righteous in grace only through the merit of our Lord Jesus Christ received by faith." Nor is there a lesson which we learn more slowly. It is a task most difficult for us to give up the idea of merit in ourselves, to feel that we can do nothing, absolutely nothing, towards purchasing the favor of God. Talk with the sick and the dying upon the grounds of their hope, and they will often be found pleading that they have always endeavored to live good lives, and have never been guilty of any gross sins, showing by such language that they are clinging to their own good works, instead of trusting to the heaven-procuring righteousness of God. Converse with Christians, even some of our church-members, and they will often speak in such a way as to show that they are placing some merit in their good character or endeavors to serve God. With one foot they may indeed be standing on the rock of salvation, but the other is too often still in the miry clay of our own deservings. We must learn to rest wholly on Christ. We must pray God to break down every vain dependence, to look away, with loathing and disgust, from anything that we possess or can do, to receive a crucified Redeemer as our only hope. "Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to Thy cross I cling." This is the first proposition, that there is no acceptance with God but through faith, and that in this concern works of every kind are absolutely excluded. But this proposition, simple and plain as it is, must not be perverted. It will not do, then, to say, It matters not what our lives are, just so we only have faith in Christ. When the Scriptures assert that we are justified by faith, they do not mean a faith which leaves us indifferent to our practice. The faith that saves a man is of the kind that has a prevailing and ennobling influence upon the hearts and lives of those who possess it. Because man cannot gain salvation by his own righteousness and works, he must beware of falling into the fatal and ruinous delusion that he can abolish righteousness and good works. God demands good character and good works from His people. The same apostle who declares in the epistle: "By faith we are justified," adds: "And His grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain, but I labored more abundantly than they all." The Bible wants every Christian to be busy; his life should be filled with fruits of good. But these things must be put in their right place; and which is that? As an evidence of the faith within us. Faith saves us, but good character and good works prove that we have this saving faith. The truth of the matter is that to set little store on good works is an immoral and most pestilent heresy. The works by which we recommend religion and adorn the doctrine of God, our Savior; the works which spring from love to Christ and aim at the glory of God, the works by which a good man blesses society and leaves the world better than he has found it, are not worthless and "filthy rags," but they are the gracious and graceful ornament of a blood-bought soul, the fruits of God's Spirit within us, the clear and comfortable evidence of our being the children of God; and in this St. Paul and St. James agree. Whereas a faith that professes to believe in Christ, and denies Him in character and works, is not only unprofitable, but loathsome and offensive, a dead carcass. God grant that we have all rightly understood that we place our sole and undivided dependence for salvation upon our blessed Redeemer, and that we evidence such faith in Him by the virtues of a holy character and the performance of godly acts. To God be all glory in Christ Jesus! Amen. TWELFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old he will not depart from it.--_Prov. 22, 6._ It has grown to be a custom to speak at this time a few words concerning our youth. No one, I trust, will dispute the wisdom, nor question the appropriateness of this. After months of relaxation and rest our little ones have returned to the walls and duties of school life. God grant His blessing that they may become intelligent citizens, worthy and useful members of the commonwealth. That is our pious wish and prayer, and for such wish we have reason abundant. Perhaps there has been no time when the matter of education and bringing up of our children has called for so much thought and concern as at the present. Statisticians tell us what startling conditions prevail in our country in respect to wrongdoing, that murders, unchastity, forgeries like a tidal wave are sweeping our land far above what it is in other countries, and that a large percentage of these crimes are being perpetuated by mere striplings of boys. By far the larger number of the inmates of our penal institutions--work-house and penitentiary--are young men. Our reform schools--Good Shepherd institutions and similar places--house boys and girls by the hundreds, causing one to heave a sigh of inexpressible sadness. Look over the docket of our Juvenile Court, and it convinces you beyond cavil that there is enough to justify its existence; and then we have said nothing about the stubbornness against parents and superiors, flippancy, and other sins of youth daily on the increase. And who is to blame? Said an honorable judge of this city lately: "I do say that there is a fearful amount of depravity among the children in the cities of this country, and I don't blame the children as much as those who put them into existence, the parents;" and continuing, he says: "We are prating entirely too much about the unreal and unsubstantial. After all, the real questions are the ones that affect the homes and the children in the homes, and because we have neglected them, we are reaping the ill results." The testimony of thousands of others could be quoted to the same effect. Sufficient reason, accordingly, why we should direct attention to this vital subject. God blessing His word spoken, let us regard the text which reads: "Train up a child in the way he should go," noticing that this is done, _I. By instruction_, _II. by example_, _III. by discipline_. First in order to a proper training of the young belongs instruction, and by that we mean religious instruction, education not of the mind only, but of the heart. We have no quarrel with education of the mind, the culture of our children in all the accomplishments and acquisitions of facts and sciences; on the contrary, we regard intellectual knowledge, to speak with King Solomon, as more precious than rubies and more to be chosen than fine gold; we hail with delight every facility and agency that would make our children just as bright as possible, and commend the spirit that makes our schools among the most elegant and conspicuous of public buildings. And yet, education of the mind alone will not do; we might point in evidence of that to the refined nations of antiquity. Is not ancient Greece with its music, painting, poetry, and the arts the model of modern states? And who has not heard and read of the Romans and the ancient Egyptians and Persians? Go to your public libraries and see the books on its shelves and the mutilated statues of Apollo, Juno, and the like that tell of their genius. Why did these nations not last? Why did the fabric of their grandeur crumble to pieces? Because it was not combined with the unperishable principle of virtue, and their want of virtue resulted from their want of religion. Far more simple, however, is the consideration that man is not only mind, but soul, and that this soul is preeminently what makes the man, here and hereafter; that it is upon the attention given to that soul that man's happiness, or the reverse, depends. Hence, the importance and duty of educating the soul. And that duty--where does it begin? Most assuredly where God first put the children--that is the home. At as early a period as possible, as soon as the little ones begin to think and to reason, it is for us to bring them into uninterrupted contact with the sublime and simple truths of God's Word. You cannot begin too early. From veriest infancy let them breathe the air of a religious atmosphere. The names of God, Jesus, heavenly Father, words like heaven, angels, Bible, church, and others of this kind, let them be used over and over, constantly in the hearing of the child. At first they convey but little meaning to it. But the brain retains even what it at first does not understand, and day by day the impression deepens and the understanding grows. Moreover, parents cannot begin too early to teach the child to abhor sin. Mothers should give especial attention to their little daughters and train them in maidenly modesty and chastity, reticence and reserve. And this home education does not cease when the children at tender age are sent to the Sunday-school and the parochial school. What great things are expected from that short lesson on a Sunday morning! How unreasonable to look for results of any amount unless there be the cooperation of the parents with the teachers. How many parents cooperate with the Christian instructors? How often do parents inquire about the Catechism and Bible history lesson? sing with their children the religious songs taught? If parents fail to interest themselves in what is going on in this way, never speak to the little ones about their work, of what little value must this appear to the children. It needs the earnest and ardent cooperation of the parents. And so when it comes to confirmation. What is confirmation? A course of religious instruction by the pastor. My beloved, have you ever reflected what a most excellent appointment that is? What would our Lutheran Church be and do with it? Those few months spent in personal instruction with the pastor have been the most fruitful period of many a life, have laid a foundation, solid and impenetrable--and God prevent the day that parents would begrudge the hours devoted to that purpose, or regard the securing of a public school diploma higher than the Certificate of Confirmation. As the new term is about to open, let parents and sponsors carefully weigh this matter!--We train the children, in the first place, by religious instruction. Again, it has been stated, by example. To bring up a child in the way it should go, you should go that way yourself. An ounce of example is better than a pound of precept. If children are to honor parents, parents ought to honor themselves and each other. If father and mother are rude to each other, no wonder if the example be soon followed. If father and mother are unpunctual in their hours, irreverent and vulgar in gesture and speech, it needs no sage to tell what the effect would be. Children need models more than criticism. Boys do not learn honesty and girls modesty so much from text-books--the parents are the best living encyclopedia of practical morality. What can one expect where the father is heard blaspheming his Creator, lives in debauchery, drowning his reason in liquor, spending his time and his earnings for purposes and in places unbecoming. How many a boy's soul has been poisoned by filthy talk heard from an adult's lips! An irreverent joke on some Bible story has well-nigh shattered the faith of many a lad! And it will never improve the moral condition of the young where the mothers are "white" liars, practice deception upon their husbands, and indulge in eavesdropping and gossip and find their chief delight with the world, its amusements and pleasures. It well becomes us to examine ourselves and our homes in this respect. Two things in particular have tended to break down the religious prestige of parents and to make our homes irreligious homes. The first is this: the lack of family worship and prayer. In many, aye, most cases the family altar has, to quote the language of another, "been carried to the woodshed, and there demolished for kindling." What multitude of homes are veritable boarding houses! Each member of the household comes, goes, eats, and sleeps at will. When you add to that the rush and push of modern business life, the spirit of the age, which regards religion lightly, the multiplied evening enjoyments, we have no time for family worship. But right there we are making an irreparable mistake--as foolish and worse than taking the roof off our house. Dear Christian parent, put that Bible back where it belongs; let never a day pass but a chapter is heard in your dwelling. Consider what I say, and the Lord grant you courage and blessing! Parents who do not fear and love God and live according to His commandments, what reason have they to complain when their children, misled by them, fail to fear and love God and live according to His commandments? So the second means of training up a child in the way he should go is by example. The third is discipline. Foolishness is in the heart of a child. "The imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth," says the Bible, and this foolish and evil heart shows itself very early and ugly betimes, and then needs restraint. Children must be trained in the way they should go, also in this particular; namely, to control their passions, to master their self-will; to render obedience, respect, deference to parents and all elders. A child is in a very precarious condition if it has gained the impression that it is too much for papa and mamma, and that it cannot be made to mind, and that papa and mamma cannot do a thing with it. And if the parents unfailingly take the side of their children when something comes up between them and some other party, as the teachers and neighbors, they may be certain that they are making all around good-for-nothing children of them. Children should be compelled to curb themselves, and not allow ugly words to come over their lips, or to frown, and scowl, and get into a fit of anger whenever they receive an order, or are reprimanded.--And how are parents to overcome disrespect and insubordination of children? First of all, they must cease to coddle their children, and connive at their faults, or laugh at their rudeness and misbehavior. Again, God, by the pen of Solomon, has set down a word in the Bible which needs mentioning to-day: "He that spareth the rod hateth his son; but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes." The rod indeed should be used with caution and good common sense, and only in extreme cases of disobedience and wickedness. Parents should be heedful in this respect. When a child does a trifling wrong, not out of malice, but out of mischief or thoughtlessness, parents must not resort to extreme severity. Parents should take the trouble to train their children, to talk to them, to explain what is right and wrong, to get the consent of their will, and persuade them to obey, and it is only after all patience and clemency has been exhausted and the child remains intractable that the rod will come in for its share of training. It is a well-known dictum of Luther, that the apple and the rod must go together, that is, love must be combined with justice, otherwise children feel abused, and become embittered.--But neither must we refrain from using the rod for the good of the child, nor can we begin too early. And one thing more do we emphasize in this important matter of children's training: Keep your child out of bad company. Boys and girls are often allowed to run wild, early and late, with all kinds of companions, in all sorts of places, and this has marked the beginning of many a boy's and girl's downfall. You would not suffer your little ones in the company of children infected with some malignant disease. But some parents seem to dread such ailments more than the vicious and degrading influence of ill-trained children; they never inquire about the character of their children's playmates, about the nature of the games indulged in. On a Sunday morning parents will leave their children at home, feasting on the comic section of the Sunday paper, a flagrant exhibition of the criminal meanness and spitefulness of some bad boy. To pass by other things, the five-cent theaters, or nickelodeons, may present wholesome pictures at times, but enough has been said and written to convince us that the nature of the entertainment offered is in many cases, if not in the most, of a low and trivial order. It is certainly a training in the wrong direction if children can talk fluently about plays, actors, and actresses. Let a child taste that sort of opiate, and life elsewhere will seem dull and insipid, and the outcome far from the paths of righteousness and religion. May God, according to the riches of His mercy, bless the words spoken so that they may arouse us parents to renewed endeavors, multiplied zeal, and irresistible enthusiasm in our duties over against our youth. To His great Parent heart and Parent care we commend them and us. Amen. THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.--_Matt. 25, 40._ We Christians are sometimes at a loss whether to regard it as a matter of congratulation or as a matter of disdain when we hear people who otherwise repudiate our blessed Lord, who have no use for His teaching and His Church, quoting Him as an authority and a model. Thus there be those who say with great emphasis that Jesus Christ was a Socialist, yes, the first and real Socialist; He loved the common people and severely arraigned the rulers of His nation. Others, when they find it convenient, contend that Christ was no temperance man. Did He not perform a miracle, turning water into wine? While others contend that Christ was a great philanthropist; His purpose and mission was to make this world a better place to live in; wherefore He fed the hungry, healed the sick, and devoted Himself to the betterment of social conditions generally. Whether our Lord was a Socialist, or not, that depends upon the definition, "What is a Socialist?" Unfortunately, there are as many different definitions of Socialism as there are individual Socialists; scarcely two are perfectly agreed. Suffice it to say that, in the popular acceptance of the word, Jesus of Nazareth was not a Socialist; and we do not feel greatly flattered to have Him so rated. The same is true when He is quoted as a non-temperance man, in the mouth of those whose use of wine and other intoxicants consists mostly in the abuse. And as to our Lord being a philanthropist, whose mission was the betterment of social conditions, this, while a favorite idea, is far from the whole truth. What does our Lord Himself say was His mission in this world? He declares that He came "to seek and to save that which was lost." He says: "I am come that ye might have life, and that ye might have it more abundantly." What did He mean by "life"? Surely not the hand-breadth of time which we are living here and now. To Him man was more than a creature whose wants were only those of a stomach and its appurtenances. It is true, He did not minimize the present life. He relieved men of their distresses and healed their sicknesses; but that was quite subordinate to His greater work. The emphasis was always placed on their eternal interests. "The life," He said, "is more than meat and the body than raiment." His great question was, "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his soul?" What are health and comfort and wealth, and all earth's emoluments in comparison with the life hereafter? Christ's mission was to make it possible for men to attain to that high destiny; and this He did by sacrificing Himself and dying on the cross for them, in expiation of their sins, so that, whosoever would believe in Him, should not perish, but have everlasting life. This, be it ever kept before us, was the purpose and mission of Christ. It is not true that the ministry of Christ had to do principally with the temporal welfare of men. To say so is to contradict His words and belittle His work. He did champion the poor; He did vindicate the rights of the working classes; He did insist on happy homes and just government and the betterment of society every way. But He came to be a Savior, He came to save the soul from the ravages and penalty of sin; and when people quote Him in favor of one thing only, and that the inferior part, and reject the other and the superior, it is only a half truth, and not to our Lord's credit. And as people judge in these matters concerning Christ, so concerning His Church. The Scripture-lesson of this Sunday, treating of this subject, tells us of the good Samaritan and his work of love. Let us, for once, take for our topic of instruction: _I. The wrong view and attitude of the Church over against the works of benevolence. II. Which is the correct Bible teaching and practice?_ The Lord grant us understanding and wisdom! There is no question that the expectation of the multitude regarding the churches has largely changed. Formerly the one and only thing which it was expected for the churches to do was to preach the Gospel, to minister to people's souls. Public opinion now is to the effect that the business of the Church is along the lines of social science and social service. There are churches to-day which have, accordingly, been practically transformed into hospitals, for the healing of nervous diseases, and there are Social Settlements, supported by Christian people, where baths and gymnasiums, play-rooms, lunch counters, musicales, moving pictures, and scientific lectures have free sway. "Not only with the unseen and eternal has the Church to do, but with the seen and temporal. Give a man a square meal, a good suit of clothes, better social conditions for him and his children, and you will have better success as to his soul. Let the churches preach that and practice that, and they will come up to their proper ideal and purpose." Beloved, as to what is the proper ideal and purpose of the Church, that is for Him to say who founded the Church; and what does He say? Of Himself He said, as we heard: "The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which is lost," and to His disciples He said: "As the Father hath sent me," into the world, "so send I you," that is, to seek and to save those who were lost in sin. And this salvation is to be accomplished in what way? By social science and service? His direction is: "Go ye and preach the Gospel." That, be it noted, is _the_ purpose and mission of the Church. "Teach the Gospel," the tidings how man's soul may be saved from the guilt and power of sin through Jesus Christ, their Savior. That is the heaven-appointed sphere and commission, at home and abroad. The object of our missionaries in foreign lands is not to heal the sick and teach the heathen how to wear clothes, and cultivate the fields. To civilize is not yet to Christianize. Their duty is to preach the Gospel, and invite souls to Christ. They may have to do other things, such as translating the Scriptures, helping the poor, and treating their sick bodies, but always with one thing in mind, namely, the winning of souls to Christ as their Savior from sin. And so among us. Let us beware of putting that which is only subordinate, the improvement of material conditions, in the place of the higher purpose of the Church, the winning of souls. God's method, however men may be in love with their own, is always the best. Men's method is this: Give men better social conditions, improve their circumstances, and you will improve their souls. God's method is the reverse: First improve their souls, and you will improve their social condition. The Gospel does not aim directly at improving men's circumstances, it aims at improving men themselves. But no sooner does it bring about a moral improvement in men than they bring about a noticeable improvement in their surroundings. Search the history of all Christian countries and communities, and see whether it is not so. Which are the richest and most prosperous and flourishing nations in our day? Countries like Germany, England, America, countries that have received most abundantly of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Let us beware, then, of having our attention and efforts directed from the main thing. Some of those social service features may serve a good purpose as far as they go, but only when they are in line with the great mission of the Church as the Lord gave it: the preaching of the Gospel. A few years ago, when Japan began to emerge from barbarism, the thoughtful people of that country were accustomed to say quite candidly that they wanted our Western civilization, but were not prepared to accept Christ with it, and this is the attitude of China just now. One of her great statesmen has said: "We purpose to keep the philosophy of Confucius, but we are ready to believe the religion of Christ for its fruits." This will not do. Neither Japan, China, nor any individual can borrow the clothes of religion and leave the vital thing out of it. This is precisely the tendency in these days. People would reject the Gospel, yet would take advantage of the blessed results which flow from it. We learn, then, that the preaching of the Gospel is the first purpose of the Church of Christ; to that it must direct its main effort; therein lies its life and success, and all other undertakings must be subordinate and in harmony with that. In other words, the greatest charity, the noblest act of Good Samaritanism is that which aims at a person's soul, and that help can only be effected by the Gospel of Christ; that is the oil and the wine which the heavenly Samaritan has designed to be poured into the soul's wounds of sinful and dying man.--But this does not exclude that the Church should practice Good Samaritanism towards men's bodies. On the contrary, this is her Lord's direction. And the Church has ever done so, and is doing so, as a whole and in her individual members. This is our second consideration. No duty is more constantly enjoined by the Scripture than that of contributing to the necessity of others. We think, for instance, of the Savior's words to the rich young ruler: "Sell what thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven." The Christian congregation at Jerusalem had a treasury out of which distribution was made continually as any man had need. St. Paul tells of collections that were taken for brethren who were in distress because of the famine which prevailed throughout Judea. In the days of early Christianity we read of much almsgiving; beautiful instances are on record of believers who, constrained by the love of Christ, gave away large estates and gladly spent the rest of their days in poverty for their brethren's sake. Hospitals, institutions never before known, were erected by wealthy Christians, and the story of Laurentius is well known, who, when ordered by the Roman officials to produce the treasures which it was thought the Christians had in hiding, brought out the aged, the sick, and the crippled, and remarked, "These are our treasures." And the Church is not slack concerning works of benevolence now. Look at the chain of institutions of every kind that are maintained within the bounds of our Synod, by our congregations in this city. Whence comes the revenue for the support of our Orphanage, Altenheim, Hospital, City Mission? From the pockets of the hearts of those who attend the public worship of God. This past week there was laid to rest a man who, whatever may be our verdict concerning his work and the organization of which he was the founder and head, the Salvation Army,--Rev. Wm. Booth,--it cannot be denied that such a religious movement could only have sprung up on Christian soil, fostered by Christian principles of charity and beneficence. And what pertains to the Church at large pertains to each of us individually. In the text the Lord Jesus, sitting in judgment upon each child of Adam, says: "What ye have done unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me." What words could be more pointed! How those few words tell us why and to whom we are to show beneficence. "Ye have done it unto Me,"--that infirm and aged one for whom you have provided a permanent and comfortable home, "ye have done it unto Me." Those "least of all my brethren,"--those orphaned children whom ye have sheltered in a Christian home or a suitable institution, "ye have done it unto Me." That coin and dollar which you have given unto worthy charity--to the man or woman, battling against life's odds and reverses,--"ye have done it unto Me." Beloved, never let the springs of your Christian charity dry up because of ingratitude, sorry experiences; it was, after all, not that destitute one that you were dealing with, but Him. We have regarded in our reflection to-day, first, what is the chief mission of Christ and of His Church, namely, the saving of the soul, and that this is effected by the preaching of the Gospel; secondly, that where there is concern for men's souls, there will be charity shown toward their bodies also. In other words, where the love of Christ has taken possession of the heart, there it will also show itself in deeds of love to Christ's destitute brethren. My beloved hearer, what is the measure of your love? What are you doing unto the Lord's brethren and thus unto Him? Remember that on that day an inspection is going to be made, a report openly rendered. What kind of report will yours be? Lord, give us ever a kind heart, a charitable hand, and through Thy grace the reward which Thou hast promised in heaven for those who served Thee on earth. Amen. FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue, knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance; and to temperance, patience; and to patience, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, charity.--_2 Pet. 1, 5-7._ It is a very easy thing, my beloved, to be a Christian, and it is a very difficult thing to be a Christian. That may sound paradoxical and strange, but it is soberness and truth. It is very easy to be a Christian by name, but it is very difficult to be one in reality. It is an undeniable fact that there are people who call themselves after the Savior, and yet are a disgrace even to common decency; whilst others again keep slightly more within the bounds of morality, yet their tempers remain unsubdued, their tongues unbridled, they mind earthly things, and there is little or no difference between them and the people of the world. Even when they have connected themselves with the Church, and taken formal discipleship and membership upon themselves, this inconsistency appears. Some are great saints on great occasions, when there is a chance to shine in the esteem of men, but are glaringly deficient in private spheres and duties, and are very leaden and dull where no applause is forthcoming. Others can always be depended upon where it costs them nothing, but when burdens are to be borne, their interest lies somewhere else. Still others are generous enough with their means, but expect their dollars to answer in place of a pure life and to counterbalance a vast deal of self-indulgence and unsanctity. Another class are those who are full of zeal and energy, provided they are allowed to do everything their own way, and are not compelled to cooperate with certain other people whom they despise. And so there are multitudes of chaotic, one-sided, undeveloped, unsatisfactory professing Christians whose conduct is anything but consistent with their claims, and in little accord with Him whose name they would bear. Now turn to the Scripture,--read the descriptions given in the holy writings of what constitutes a full-fledged Christian, and holding up the picture before your spiritual eyes, begin to compare the modern Christian with the Scriptural one, the real one with the nominal. For what is a Christian? A Christian is, first of all, a person who has been justified by faith in Christ; that is his real character and standing, and as long as he remains true in his faith and to his Savior, he remains a Christian. But this does not offset, but rather involves, that the faith by which we are justified and saved must be a live, an active and vigorous principle, which draws after it a train of noble virtues and good works; we must not only be Christians, but show it; we must not only have justifying grace, but also sanctifying grace, leading us forward in our Christian profession. We Christians must not be like mill-wheels which move indeed, but always stand in the same place, or like mill-horses which go round and round, but never get beyond the one narrow circle. Nay, we must advance in Christian holiness, go forward to the full measure of our stature as a Christian. This is the principal thought that the various Sundays of Trinity urge upon us, and again in harmony with which we find our text. These words point out to us: _I. The additions we are to make to our faith_; _II. the manner in which we must make these additions_. May God bless our meditations upon them! The Apostle begins: "Add to your faith virtue." You will observe he does not want his readers to seek after faith,--that he supposes them to possess already,--he addresses them as believers, and calls upon them to add to their belief, as if he would say: You claim to have faith (it is a good thing to have), but you seem to forget that faith without works is dead, that Christianity is not only a spiritual religion, but a practical one. What does a foundation amount to if the superstructure be not reared? Nothing; it is a beginning without a progress. Just so with faith,--it is _the_ chief requisite of Christian religion, and must not be a scheme of doctrine which lies asleep in the mind and never stimulates. Abraham had faith, and he offered up Isaac. Moses had faith, and he esteemed the afflictions and hardships of the people of Israel greater rather than the treasures of Egypt. Abel and Noah had faith; it led the one to build, and the other to die the death of a martyr. And so you, claiming to have faith, "add to your faith virtue." This is the first addition mentioned. Virtue here does not signify goodness in general, but a particular quality; it means as much as fortitude, courage, bravery,--add to your faith courage. And the exhortation was indeed necessary in those days of the Apostle's writing. Heathenism and Judaism were making common cause to despise, persecute, and malign the followers of the new religion. Many of the followers of Christ had to sacrifice home, country, family, and friends, and wander about as the offscouring of the earth. Temptations and distractions of the most dangerous kind were assailing them. And it could not be otherwise; if not rooted and grounded, firm, courageous, inflexible, they would surely make shipwreck. It is no less necessary this day. The world is not more a friend to religion and religionists now than it was then. It is not an easy thing to encounter adverse opinion, to incur the sneers and frowns of relatives and associates, or the scorn of persons in business and society. It is not a pleasant feeling to find yourself in a small and despised minority, and that minority ofttimes lacking in appreciation, sympathy, and cooperation. When you add to these the petty jealousies, misrepresentations, and stabs in the back, hypocrisies and ingratitude, one is prone to become discouraged, and to drop off in sullenness and despondency. What we need in such moments of weakness to support our flagging minds and faltering energies is virtue,--courage, moral and religious resolve to do and to dare, to show ourselves as men, and not as moral cowards and fretting babes. Fie on a Peter that denied his Master before the taunts of a maid, and shame on the disciples who forsook Him in the hour of emergency. How noble does there appear in comparison that Roman soldier at Pompeii who stood in his place when the avalanche of lava and fire was engulfing the city, where, over a thousand years afterwards, he was excavated with his sword drawn and still guarding the city gate. O for a stand to our profession and to God's Word till He shall say, "It is enough," for a little boldness, holy determination, courage, firmness to follow our convictions and to voice them, regardless of the reproach we may endure, or the losses we may sustain. The second addition to our faith mentioned is "knowledge." A knowledge of the truth as it is in Christ, these people to whom St. Peter wrote indeed had. But there are such heights and depths, lengths and breadths in Christian knowledge that the greatest of saints can never get done learning it. The most knowing are like children on the seashore. Though they may gather the many precious pebbles and beautiful shells, the vast ocean of truth still lies unexplored before them, and we need all strive after a deeper and cleaner insight into the mysteries of God and of His grace. A person once told me that some people know too much, and that their very wisdom in sacred things spoils their piety. This may be where the knowledge is merely a thing of the head and not affecting the heart, but it will be a sad day for Christianity if ever it comes to accept the maxim: "Ignorance is the mother of devotion." Another once told me that it was useless for him to go to church, for he knew it all. Mistaken man! I saw him on his deathbed and found his soul so destitute of true knowledge that he had not enough wherewith to die in peace. Let us not be deceived! Never can we come to the strength and stature of men and women in Christ except we search and study the Scripture, listen attentively to the exposition of the Word. Even what is most familiar to us we need to have continually repeated in our ears, lest we forget it, or our piety will go out and die, just like a lamp that is not supplied with oil. For not only theoretical knowledge does the Apostle mean here, but, I take it, practical knowledge, that knowledge which we ordinarily call prudence, which is knowledge applied to action. And it is a quality which a Christian must seek to cultivate. A Christian ought to grow wiser as he grows older. A Christian is intent on studying his character and his ways. He seeks to make every day an improvement or correction of the former, deriving strength from his very weaknesses and firmness from his falls. A Christian distinguishes times, places, circumstances; he does not rashly offer his opinion, but discerns when to speak and when to keep silence. When he reproves, he does so with skill; when he gives, he does so with judgment. A Christian does not overrate his position and talents, nor does he underrate them; he is willing to approve things that are excellent, even if he is not the first to advance them, and is upright enough to speak against what is wrong, even if it might not be popular. But alas, what numbers there are of normal Christians whose temper, character, disposition marks no improvement; they are the same year in and year out, no better, no holier, no stronger in Christian life; their Christian experience and advancement is equal to naught. "The wisdom of the prudent is to understand his way," says Solomon, and the Apostle exhorts: "Add to your faith knowledge." Thirdly, "Add to your faith temperance," _i. e._, moderation. Keep your passions within due bounds and your desires regulated. Having dwelt at length on this quality recently, we pass on to the next: "Add to your faith patience." Things are not always to our fancy and taste. The weather is not always fair and the roads agreeable. Men and things are liable to vex us, torment us, our circumstances and connections prove galling and exacting. Nothing is then more desirable than an antidote to strengthen and invigorate the soul than patience. It prepares you for every changing scene and every suffering hour. It sustains you under afflictions, and gives you that calmness and resignation which so much becomes the Christian. Nothing is more dishonoring and disnobling than to behold that disposition which must continually be pampered and stroked and rocked like a child, under the slightest provocation and disfavorableness will froth and foam. Amid life's ills practice patience. As the Holy Scripture expresses it: "Let patience have her perfect work that ye may be perfect and entire, lacking nothing." Of the remaining virtues mentioned we next have "godliness," meaning the fear and love of God as it is shown in our lives, pervading our actions and controlling our every deed. Here is the difference between morality and religion. An unbeliever, a non-Christian, may conduct himself just as civilly and respectably outwardly as a believer, as a Christian. Outwardly, I say, the difference between the two lies in this: the one does it from consideration, probably, of gain in society, or probably from a fear of avoiding the penitentiary, whereas the Christian is prompted in his conduct by motives and considerations toward his God. You cannot be godly without being moral; you can pose for moral, and still not be godly. Godliness consists in this, to bring God into every part of life, to make Him the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end of all we do; and it is only when we do that, and when we make His Word our rule and His glory our aim, that life is what it is intended to be, and answers the purpose for which the Creator has given it. To live without godliness is like an arrow without point and feather,--it will never hit the target. Where there is godliness, it will be attended by the other two virtues mentioned, "brotherly kindness" and "charity." Where there is water, there it is wet; where there is a tree, there it is shady; where there are right sentiments toward God, there will also be right sentiments toward our fellow-Christians and fellow-men. It matters not how they may differ in age, they possess the same powers of conscience, reason, and mentality; they are liable to the same afflictions, are members of the same family, travelers to the same heavenly grace; they need the same assistance and cheer, hence I am to exercise toward them brotherly kindness and charity. But the last is surely not in this case the least, for charity is the highest attainment in practical Christianity, the fulfilling of the Law, the bond of perfectness, and, need I add? the most difficult of all Christian virtues. This charity manifests itself in our conduct toward the brethren. It is the opposite of that hasty spirit and temper which is ever finding fault and breaking out in sudden and rash anger. It is that benignant spirit which does not reckon up the injuries received with a view of having satisfaction for them. It pities men's infirmities and moral failures, and makes ample allowances for them. Nor does it scramble for its own gratification in disregard of others' rights, dues, and comforts, but seeks to serve all men as it would serve itself. Nor does it lose heart and give up in disgust when all meets with discouragements and obstructions, ingratitude on the part of those for whom it labors and lives. It is willing to forgive and forget, to defend, and to put the best construction on everything. It is the highest and best test of Christian character, the most important, the most exalted, the most enduring of all virtues. We wonder that the Apostle mentions it last in the divine category of Christian graces, directing us to add to our faith. Let us now proceed, secondly, to inquire how this is to be accomplished. The Apostle tells us in our text. It is by giving all diligence, and in order that we might do so, remember these things deserve your diligence, that diligence will secure them, that they cannot be secured without diligence. They deserve your diligence. It is pitiable to see how many thousands are employing their zeal, and wasting their strength and spending their money, talents, and time upon practically nothing. Examine the objects for which most men are striving, the aim for which they are living, and ask yourselves, Does it reward their toils and indemnify them for the sacrifices they make? But this cannot be said of spiritual blessings and virtues. These are in the sight of God of great price, and necessary to man in his true and real character. They enrich him, dignify him; they are his chief interest and his glory, making him a blessing to himself and to all around him. Or who can conceive a higher purpose and model of existence than a man or woman, pious, moral, courageous, wise, self-denying, gentle, kind and benevolent? Secondly, diligence will secure them. In the career of worldly good, in the sea of life few obtain the prize, and the race is not always to the swiftest nor the battle to the strongest; wealth and good fortune do not always fall to the lot of men that strove after them, nor fame to those that covet it. Here the principle obtains: "Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." "To the righteous there is a sure reward." And finally I stated, there is no attaining these virtues without diligence. Diligence is indispensable in whatever you undertake. You must labor "for the meat that perisheth." The bread upon your table--through what a succession of processes it must pass before it is ready for use. The same may be said of your clothing; in fact, of everything else. "On earth naught precious is obtained but what is painful too," and perhaps we would not value and esteem things if it were not so. And what is true of temporal gifts pertains to spiritual equally as well. Awake, then, my dear fellow-Christian, be zealous, be progressive; it is the only way to prosper. Remember religion is not airy notions, sleepy wishes, feeble resolutions, and your strength is not to sit still. The learned are daily adding to their intellectual treasures, the rich are adding house to house and field to field, and none of them say: "It is enough." Will you as a Christian not add to your faith knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance; and to temperance, patience; and to patience, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, charity? Reflect and apply, by the help of God. Amen. FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Casting all your cares upon Him, for He careth for you.--_1 Pet. 5, 7._ In that wonderful book which, next to the Bible, has been most extensively circulated in the English language, _viz._, Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," there is a scene which is most impressive. It represents to us Christian fleeing from the city of this world, with a large bundle upon his shoulders. He comes to a place somewhat elevated; upon that place stands a cross, and a little below there is a sepulcher, and as he comes up with the cross, the bundle looses from off his shoulders and rolls away, till it comes to the mouth of the sepulcher, where it rolls in and he sees it no more. How many as they have read or seen the picture of the quaint old story have wished that it might be so with them as it was with Christian, that the load which they are bearing might slip off their backs, leaving the heart light and spirit free. And there is no reason why it may not, provided they take it, like Christian, to the proper place. What is set forth in the allegory, that, according to St. Peter in the text, may be experienced in reality and in truth. God grant that with the Holy Spirit's aid we may acquire the art. Three thoughts are set before us: _I. That every child of man has a burden to bear_; _II. what he should do with it_; III. _why he should so dispose of it_. A distinguished German preacher, speaking on the Gospel of this Sunday, remarked that man in this world has a solemn companion that follows him whithersoever he goeth. Like a shadow, it will cling to his footsteps, dogging his every movement and occupying his every moment. In the silence of the chamber it will steal through the keyhole, and when slumber is about to fall upon his weary eyelids, it will whisper rest-disturbing messages into his ear. No spot is too desolate, no mind immune against its perplexing assaults. The German calls the name of this dreary attendant "Sorge." Our text calls it "Care," meaning anxious care, solicitude, distracting fear. That, as stated, is the burden of every child of Adam. It may not externally appear so,--it may be hidden behind silken tapestry or marble apartments,--but it is there. People look at a king; they gaze upon a rich mansion, see its occupants, driving forth in an elegant equipage. They think, "What a favored lot is theirs!" They realize not the dark shadow of care sitting behind the coachman, and realize not what the poet expresses thus: "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." Nor can it be said that it has lessened. We have made mighty advancement; never was the world so rich in material things, never did we possess so many devices for lightening human toil and tasks, and yet due likely to the speed at which we have to move, the high pressure at which we have to live, the complexity of the social organism of which we form a part, it is a matter of fact that the man and the woman of to-day are getting more nervous and highly strung, less able to bear their burdens calmly and patiently. Worry, constant distraction, and disquietude are wearing out many people before their time. And what are they worrying about? What is the burden of their care? Various. With some it is the burden of ill health, bodily indisposition. That's an extremely heavy burden, one that takes the color out of the sky and the sweetness out of life, to spend most or a great deal of our time in bed or on a sofa,--no taste for food, a throbbing head, a laboring heart, constant and gnawing agony, nights often filled with sleeplessness and days with weariness. This is trying, indeed. With others it is business burdens. Rivalry is keen, competition acute, thousands are the things to harass and perplex and annoy the man of industry. The Lord, in the Gospel, mentions a whole array of burdens that rise from the question: "What shall we eat, what shall we drink, or wherewithal shall we be clothed?" Worldly sustenance, the apprehension of poverty, of future years, of loss of property, of health, of coming deaths and sorrow in the family, the changes and disasters that might come, the miscarrying of our plans, the possible ill success of our labors,--these things are the burdens that make men full of worrying cares. And what can you do to rid yourself of this? There are those who would drown their worry. They take to the intoxicating cup. It's a miserable expedient, a ruin to body and soul; and oh! for the shame and remorse added to the load of ills. Others turn to the gay and glittering world, to some place and company where men and women are apparently happy. For a time the thing may work well. As the child of care goes up and down within the great dance-hall and through the illuminated gardens, where the merry voices of laughter and song ring out, and instruments are discoursing sweet music, it may seem wise to have disposed of the burden that way. But--what when the entertainment is over, and your wraps carefully labeled with your name are handed back to you? Then back come the old sorrows, perhaps with new ones added.--And one other expedient might we think of: Have some one bear the burden with you. There is good reason and sound sense in this. Men in trouble instinctively seek human sympathy; a sorrow shared is a sorrow lessened. Fortunate the person that has an ear and a heart to which he can apply for comfort and strength. But there also is danger. Friendship is an uncertain thing; it is often too delicate to bear much handling, it evaporates under pressure. Few are the friends that care, or are able to bear, the burdens of others; and again, there are friends who are not really such, who will betray your confidence, secretly rejoice over your ill fortune, and even use it to harm you. Beware of a man whose breath is in his nostrils. So, then, we are shut up to one effective resource, and that is the course given in the text: "Casting all your cares upon Him." What does that mean? It means two things: In the first place, it means trust in God's providence. There is a Providence which has brought us into this world and is taking us through it. And it is for us to practically, not only theoretically, believe this. Theoretically, we may hold very correct views on the subject, but it is practically, in the application to the affairs and scenes of our own life, that we may fall short. And alas! that many of those who call themselves Christians do fall short. Else why these perplexing anxieties, this tormenting solicitude? If they believe in God, who has pledged that He will ever provide for them, and without whose permission not a hair of their head can fall, why do they yield to the same unbelieving fears as the worldling? We Christians believe in an almighty Maker and Provider, that He has given us these bodies, our families and all. We furthermore believe that He knows what our wants really are, and we hold that it is in His power to supply our wants. Besides, He has pledged Himself by His almighty character to supply them. Surely, it is a great inconsistency and unbelief to find Christians showing the spirit of worldly carefulness, losing the comfort of trust in God amidst a host of distracting cares. If there is a word more expressive of Christian character than any other, it is this one, trust,--trust in God, trust in Jesus to save, in His Spirit to sanctify, in His providence to provide; trust amidst perplexity and mystery, for the future, the present, in life and in death,--in all things trust in God. Yes, dear child of affliction and sorrow, God loves you. He has redeemed you by the blood of His own dear Son. He cares for you. He knows your ailments, and He would not permit His children to suffer anything to their hurt. Believe that. To give way to contrary feeling and expressions is to dishonor and provoke God. When a father knows that he can uphold a child in any threatening danger, he does not like to hear the continual expression of that child's fears and apprehensions. It vexes him. When we have chosen a pilot, he would be offended, were he to find us trembling as to the safety of the ship; he would throw up the helm, and tell us to guide for ourselves, since we had no confidence in His skill. It is doubting our heavenly Father's wisdom, it is distrusting His power and goodness, and contradicting His gracious powers and pledges to be overanxious. The thing is to look up to, and confide in Him: "God never does forsake in need the soul that trusts in Him indeed." And with this trust goes something else, and that something else is prayer. "Be careful for nothing," says the Apostle in another place, "but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be known to God." Prayer: What is there to it? Nothing, if you have never tried it; and since ours is such a prayerless age, it is such an anxious age. Would they be cured of the evil, they must follow the Apostle's direction, so simple and yet so effective. Prayer is God's specific, His antidote, against care. In one of two ways God answers the request of every care-worn soul. Sometimes He takes away the thing that troubles it. Sometimes He still allows them to remain, but fills the soul itself with such grace and strength that it learns to smile at its old fears, and refuses to be fretted and worried any more. Try it, thou anxious, distracted, worried soul, go to the Lord, speak out in His ear whatsoever gives thee worry,--anxiety for worldly sustenance, illness, concern of family, solicitude for those who are at a distance, and how many moments of dejection you might save yourself. As an old commentator says: "Care cannot live in the presence of prayer; but prayer extinguisheth care as water extinguisheth fire." To conclude, there will always be burdens, and anxieties will never fail, but we have God's instruction as to how to treat them. Let us commit to memory such a text as this. Let us in moments of gloom repeat it over and over again, and oh! how like Christian in "Pilgrim's Progress" anxious cares will roll off your shoulders; distrust, impatience, and fear will yield to holy hope, prayerful committal, humble and peaceful trust. God bless and impress His Word to that effect! Amen. SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. In those days was Hezekiah sick unto death. And the Prophet Isaiah, the son of Amoz, came to him, and said unto him, Thus saith the Lord, Set thine house in order; for thou shalt die, and not live. Then he turned his face to the wall, and prayed unto the Lord, saying: I beseech Thee, O Lord, remember now how I have walked before Thee in truth and with a perfect heart, and have done that which is good in Thy sight. And Hezekiah wept sore. And it came to pass, afore Isaiah was gone out into the middle court, that the word of the Lord came to him, saying, Turn again, and tell Hezekiah, the captain of my people, Thus saith the Lord, the God of David, thy father, I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears: behold, I will heal thee; on the third day thou shalt go up unto the house of the Lord. And I will add unto thy days fifteen years.--_2 Kings 20, 1-6._ None reading the Gospel-lessons of these successive Sundays with an observing mind will have failed to discover that they treat of life's ills, its sufferings and sorrows. Last Sunday it was the matter of care, anxiety, worry concerning which our Lord gave us instruction; the Sunday before ten lepers--the picture of intense bodily affliction--appear upon the scene; and previous to that we heard of the deaf-mute and of the Good Samaritan administering his work of love, until in to-day's Scripture, as if the climax, we observe a young man, under circumstances the most pathetic, being carried out to his burial-place. Nor can we do more wisely than to follow the line of thought thus indicated, for which reason we have selected the foregoing text. May we, under God's blessing, learn its comforting and practical truths! Three things would we note from the Scripture: _I. King Hezekiah's affliction_; _II. his recovery_; _III. what he gained from his experience_. The verses before us tell us that just after the destruction of the army of Sennacherib, which had been laying siege to Jerusalem, King Hezekiah was prostrated with a dangerous malady, the result, most probably, of the fatigue and anxiety in connection with the defense of his capital. At first it would seem that he had little apprehension as to the issue of his illness, but when the Prophet Isaiah told him that his disease was mortal, and bade him set his house in order, his heart sank within him. He was yet a young man, possibly forty years, in the prime of life; he had just escaped a great peril; the Lord had given him a marvelous, yea, miraculous deliverance, from the hands of the Assyrian oppressor, and he was a good man, a pious king, who, more than any other since the time of David, was zealous for the honor of Jehovah among the people. But now all these hopes were dashed to the ground; the cherished purpose of his heart frustrated, his life's work promptly cut short; and as he thought over these things, he turned his face toward the wall, and prayed to the Lord, and wept sore. He could not understand God's dealings with him. Why had he been delivered from the Assyrian king if he was thus and now to be removed? To what end had all his efforts in the interest of true religion been if he was to be cut down before they could be carried through? It was like the gardener plucking the flower before it was opened, like the builder destroying his own structure before it was finished. It was not Hezekiah's case alone; there have been and are many others since. It is an old problem and a constantly recurring problem: Why does God deal so, and why does He deal so with those who are His people? In reply, I would say that a full answer to that problem has not been furnished us, and yet there is some light cast upon it by this and other accounts in God's Word.--First of all, would we ward off the rash conclusion, so commonly heard and everywhere repeated, that because we are afflicted, we cannot be the objects of God's love, that, if a person is sick and suffering, he must have done something, committed some sin or sins which have brought upon him such affliction. How frequently does this lamentation reach a pastor's ear, "What have I done that God should thus deal with me?" The Savior distinctly warned His disciples against such a conclusion, that particular suffering is always the consequence of some particular wickedness. It is clear that all such reasoning in the case of Hezekiah was unwarranted; he had done no special sin; he was not a sinner above all other sinners; his ailment came in the course that all bodily ailments come. Why, then, make such conclusions regarding ourselves and others? No, God's Word offers a different explanation. The Savior, on one occasion, speaking of the sickness of His friend Lazarus, said, "This sickness is for the glory of God." Let us mark that statement. The design of God in the affliction of His people is to show forth His glory. In what respect? How? In two respects, in the afflicted one himself and upon others. God's glory is advanced by the afflicted person, if the person afflicted is helped by the affliction in his spiritual growth, is made firmer in faith, established in Christian character. Luther numbered trials as among his best instructors. The Psalmist records the experience of multitudes when he says: It is good for me that I have been afflicted. When afflictions have this effect, they are to the glory of God. Then, again, the afflictions of God's people may redound to His glory in the effects which they may have upon others, to silence the gainsayer, convert the careless, or educate the weak believer into stronger faith. An instance of that is Job. The calamities came upon him to prove the utter falseness of the assertion made by Satan that Job was serving God for what he could make thereby; and I doubt not that even in our days many Christians have been sorely afflicted just to show the unbelieving, scoffing element by whom they are surrounded how firm and abiding their faith is, and how lovingly God can sustain them in their deepest distress. Sometimes, too, through the sufferings of a believer the indifferent and careless are awakened and led to the Lord. The affliction of a parent has been a blessing to a son or daughter; the illness of a wife, borne with Christian submission, has led many a man to Christ, while all of us are strengthened in our faith by the sight of the calm and simple trustfulness of a dear one on whom God's hand has been laid. Afflictions are often to the glory of God. These reflections may not, indeed, fully explain the mystery why God lays low His people, but it lessens it. In any case it ought to keep us from that rash and altogether too common conclusion that because we are afflicted we are particularly faulty. The contrary seems really true. When the teacher desires to demonstrate his own excellence as an instructor, he takes not the poorest, but the best pupil and subjects him to the severest examination; so sometimes, I think, the Lord exposes His dearest people to fierce trials, just because He knows their strength and would thereby commend that faith by which they stand to the acceptance of their fellow-men. That is the first consideration that we would direct attention to: Hezekiah, the beloved, pious, God-praying King of Judah, was laid low with a serious malady. And so, as the Apostle expresses it, let God's people not think it strange concerning the fiery trial that cometh upon them as though some strange thing had happened unto them. The very best of men are often the greatest sufferers. Again, we notice the conduct of Hezekiah. His case was hopeless. The prophet had been directed to tell him: "Set thine house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live." What does the king do? The record says: "He turned his face to the wall." Was it to conceal his grief at the fatal intelligence he had received from the prophet? Was it to be more unmolested from the presence of his attendants, or because the wall was on that side of his mansion which faced toward the Temple of God? We are not told; but it says: "He turned his face to the wall, and prayed." He had a place whither he went in his distress. When all earthly hopes vanished and all help seemed at an end, he addressed himself directly and immediately to Him in whose hands alone rests the outcome of life and of death. Pouring out his heart in tearful sobs, he pleads with the Lord, tells Him of his sincerity of life and purpose to serve Him, and of God's promises to His people to give length of days; and He who by the mouth of His prophet had directed: "Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee," had His ears open unto his cry. He is not displeased with the outpouring of their souls to Him, He delights in it, and it has power with Him. Yes, it is by this very conduct that one can test whose they are and whom they serve. To whomsoever they first go in the time of their extremity, to which refuge they betake themselves when calamity is overtaking them, determines, more than anything else, whether they are God's followers or not. To use an illustration: Traveling once, there was among my fellow-passengers a little girl who romped about and was at home with everybody, and while she was frolicking around it might have been difficult to tell whom she belonged to, she seemed so much the property of every one; but when the engine gave a loud, long shriek, and we went thundering along into a dark tunnel, the little one made one bound and ran to nestle in a lady's lap. Then one knew who was her mother. So in the day of prosperity, it may be occasionally difficult to say whether a man is a Christian or not, but let him be sent through some dark, damp tunnel of severe affliction, and you will see at once to whom he belongs. That will infallibly reveal it. Take a note of it, my beloved hearer, and when affliction comes, observe to whom you flee for help; that is a sure test whether you are Christ's and Christ is yours. To recur to the narrative,--Hezekiah's appeal was not without results. As he lay there tearfully communing with his own heart and with God, Isaiah returned to his chamber with a message of healing assuring him that he should go up to the temple on the third day, and directed him to take a lump of figs and place it upon the boil. This simple direction goes to refute and correct some errors very common in our day. The one is that remedies are to be absolutely tabooed, that they do no good; faith and prayer alone are to be resorted to to effect a cure. The theory, and the heresy that has prompted it, are set at naught by this one direction, in which God's prophet, under the direction of the almighty Physician, specified the remedy to be used. And the other error which it sets at naught is, that medical remedies have, in themselves, aside from God, any virtue or value. Too much does suffering humanity rely upon medicine; the drug bottle has become with many a veritable idol; that is their god who is going to help them. The application of figs to boils was a remedy known before Isaiah suggested it, in all likelihood it had been tried in Hezekiah's case without result; now, at the prophet's injunction, it is tried again and effectively. In other words, this time God worked through it, and so it proved of value. All the medicine in the world is worthless if He does not put divine properties into it. And so let us beware of idolizing the medicine, and forgetting over it Him who put the good into it, and when we take it, let us not fail to offer up with it prayer to Him who can and must make it efficacious. And so it came about, through the use of the means which the prophet prescribed, that Hezekiah improved,--_improved_, I repeat, only physically, to natural strength and health? Is that all that his sickness was intended for, that is included in his recovery? Is that all that our affliction is intended for, that, having been confined to the sick-room for a while, we return to our work and calling as before? Hezekiah was a wiser man than that. The song that he wrote after his recovery, recorded in the 38th chapter of Isaiah, shows that looking death in the face had not failed of good results. No man, if he be a thinking man, can be brought to the brink of the grave, and raised almost as if from the dead, without some benefit from the experience. For one thing, it ought to make him a better Christian. "Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee, e'en though it be a cross that raiseth me." Luther was wont to say that his three great teachers were prayer, study, and trial, and any reader of his life can perceive that if it had not been for the experiences that he passed through, he would not have been the sturdy character that he was. What the tempering is to the iron, giving it the toughness and endurance of steel, that afflictions are to the soul. The wind might shake and uproot the stripling of a tree, but its blasts are harmless to the oak that has passed through many a hurricane and storm. And so unbelief may give out its miserable twaddle, the faithless world raise its scoffing and deriding tongue, the man who once turned his face to the wall and prayed will not be upset, he knows whom he has believed, what he has experienced in his own soul and life. And, again, as it strengthened his faith in God, Hezekiah, after his recovery, was a faithful servant of the Lord, using his kingly authority to bring his people back to the true worship of Jehovah. Simply enough; a man who has been in the very grip of the last enemy and has recovered, cannot but reason thus: "What if I had died? These possessions would have been no longer mine. They cannot, therefore, be mine at all in the highest sense; they must have been entrusted to me by God, and I must use them for God." Usefulness, in most cases, is the result of discipline, the trials we have passed through. Who is the sympathetic person? You will find it to be him who has passed through similar affliction that you are passing through. Who is the one that is willing to give a helping hand? Not the priest and the Levite, who, if we knew their prior testing, never knew a serious affliction,--but the Good Samaritan, who very likely knew from personal experience what it meant to be waylaid. And so, to conclude, despise not the chastening of the Almighty. Learn to look upon it aright; go to the right source for relief, and thus derive from it the spiritual benefit which God designs. May you lay up what you have heard against that time when you need it, for there comes a time when you will need it. Amen. SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble, every man's work shall be made manifest; for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is. If any man's work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. If any man's work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss; but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire.--_1 Cor. 3, 11-15._ In order to understand these startling words we must, in the first place, gain a clear idea of the picture which lay before the Apostle's mind. He sees the Church of Christ as a building, harmonious in structure, every part fitting into, and each stone supporting, the other, thus presenting that oneness which the divine Architect designed it to have. The foundation of the building had been laid once for all, but for the uprearing of the walls men are to bring the materials. No materials except those worthy of God and of the precious foundation on which they are to be built, ought to be brought and laid there. Nothing but the pure and eternal truths of the faith revealed in the Scriptures ought to be preached as the doctrine of the Gospel and the Church. This was the ideal, perfect picture which stood out before the mind of the Apostle. But he also spoke of men placing perishable and vile materials upon the walls of God's building, using "wood, hay, stubble," substances unworthy to be made a part of Christ's spiritual temple. What did the Apostle mean by "wood, hay, and stubble"? The Church of Corinth, whom he addresses, had lost, so far as some of its members were concerned, that perfectness which ought to characterize the whole body. There was a working towards disunion. Envying and strife, factions, and a disposition to make this or that man the religious leader and guide, had been allowed to disturb the harmony of the congregation. The names of men had become watchwords. Parties rallied around Apollo, mistaking his eloquence for the Gospel to which it ought to lead; around Cephas, that is, Peter, because of his prominent position; around Paul, because he brought out certain doctrines into special prominence. And so, instead of regarding these men as doing each his own part in helping to maintain and preserve the whole truth, they foolishly set up this or that one, Apollo, or Peter, or Paul, as their favorite. Still, notwithstanding all these outworkings of a carnal or earthly spirit, there was as yet no rupture. The organic unity of all believers and builders remained unbroken. Individuals differed in opinions, but the Church had still only one creed. There were parties, but no denominations; factions, but no sects; strifes, but no schism. But even these cannot be allowed to disfigure the furnished temple, the Church of the final future. The Apostle looked beyond the poor work which narrow-minded men were doing at Corinth to the day when, as he tells in another place, that same Church which had been built upon the one foundation shall be presented to God, "not having spot or wrinkle," but "holy and without blemish." That day, he says, "will try every man's work, of what sort it is." Whatsoever is worthy of Christ, the solid and precious stone, shall abide, and the builder thereof shall have, along with eternal life, a reward due to his faithfulness to God's plan and design. But the human materials which unwise and ignorant workmen brought--all these shall be burned with the cleansing fire and go for nothing, but the builder himself shall be saved, because his own soul was built upon Jesus Christ, as the foundation of his faith and as his Redeemer. That is the meaning of the Apostle's solemn teaching. And now for the application. That application may be made unto each Christian. We are all builders, and it is for us to use the proper materials. What is built upon Christ, from faith in Him and love to Him, according to His mind and the honor of His cause and Church, is "gold and silver and precious stones." What is done to serve self, the gratification of one's vanity and ambition, is to heap up stubble for themselves which cannot abide in the day of testing fire. But the more special application in accord with the text is that which pertains to the Church as a whole, of the various bodies of Christians, the many denominations of Christendom. Concerning these let us speak a few words, taking occasion, _I. to explain our position_, _II. to regard our duty in this respect_. "Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ." The Church is a building reared upon that foundation. Therefore, there is and can be but one Church. As the Apostle says in the Epistle-lesson: "One Lord, one faith, one baptism," so he says there is _one body_. To rend the body of Christ, to divide His Church into different sects, where altar is set up against altar, ministry against ministry, is contrary to the will and purpose of its Founder. Some look amiably upon this Babel of beliefs and unbeliefs and counterbeliefs, think well of and would justify all so-called churches, consider one as good as another, and meekly settle down in the nearest, because "they are all aiming at the same end." This is not the teaching of the Bible nor the position of our Church. Not as if we read the members of these denominations out of the Church of Christ. We admit that they are built upon Christ, the Foundation, and we furthermore admit that they are building some gold, silver, and precious stones upon that foundation. To be more specific. Take the Roman Catholic Church. We have many things in common with the Catholic Church. It believes with us in the divinity of the Trinity, in the Godhead of Christ, in the personality of the Holy Ghost, in the divinity of the vicarious atonement, in the inspiration of the Scriptures. Far be it from me to contend that in the Catholic Church souls cannot be saved. Notwithstanding the many grave errors the Catholic Church has clung to up to this hour, it has produced characters, true, noble children of God, whose lives we may profitably study. Nearer to us stand the so-called Reformed Churches, by which term we understand the Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Congregationalists, Methodists, Baptists. With these Protestant Churches we have in common the great fundamental principles of the Reformation, namely, first: that the Word of God is the only source of religious knowledge and the only judge in matters of salvation, and secondly, justification before God by Christ through faith only. Thus it stands in the matter of doctrine; nor can we dispute that in matters of practical Christianity they are zealous, even putting us to blush. We all love to hear that the Bible is the most widely read book in the world. But to whose efforts is this mainly due? What little we do is far outdistanced by the work of societies principally supported by Methodists, Baptists, and Presbyterians. We glory that we accept the whole Bible, but who studies the Bible as a whole most earnestly? I well know that we teach Bible History in our schools, and that we also have many earnest Bible readers, but if I could show you at greater length what is done for the study of the whole Bible by both young and old people in some of the churches mentioned, you would confess that at least many of our younger and older people are put to shame in this respect too. We point with satisfaction and pride to the mighty changes which the Gospel has wrought in heathen lands,--but who for the most brought them that Gospel of Christ? Who has footed the bills? We preach as no other church does that the grace of Christ is powerful to rescue the vilest, the most degraded sinners,--but who goes after them and labors the most extensively among them? Who, to mention one more particular, gives most liberally for the support of the Church and for charity? Lutherans? Roman Catholics and others. Of course, it is not all gold that glitters, and splendid things could also be said to the glory of our Church. Who first gave the Bible to the people? Through whom has the whole Church been redeemed from the bondage of Antichrist? Who was the first to begin modern mission work? But our present purpose is to point out that the various Churches are, thank God, also adding gold, silver, and precious stones upon the foundation which has been laid, which is Christ Jesus. But is that all?--Fair-minded as we are to the one, should we be short-sighted as to the other, namely, that they are also building worthless, perishable material, material of their own human choosing, "wood, hay, and stubble"? Who, enlightened by the plain Gospel, as it shines to us from every page of the sacred Book, can help but see that the errors of the Roman Catholic Church are many; that they seriously obscure the truth; that they lessen the merits of Christ; that, among the masses, they produce a mere formal religion devoid of soul and life? Their divinity of the Church, with its visible head upon earth, the Pope, of purgatory, mass, worship of the Virgin and the saints, indulgences, confessional,--are these not wood, hay, and stubble? And coming to the Reformed Churches, which of them believes in baptismal regeneration, accepts Baptism to be a christening? Which believes in the real presence of Christ's body and blood in the Sacrament? Not one. Then, again, the Baptists insist, contrary to God's Word, that immersion is the only mode of baptism; he that has not been completely put under water has not been baptized. Likewise they sneer at infant baptism. The Episcopalian upholds as divine his form of church government,--so that, if a minister has not been ordained by an Episcopalian bishop, he is no minister. The Methodist overestimates the knowledge of one's conversion, and, like all of the Reformed Churches, cultivates a spirit of legalism, placing religion in such things as abstaining from intoxicants. The Presbyterian Church has never yet revoked the teaching of their catechism that God has elected certain persons to damnation, and insists upon its form of government as divine. "Wood, hay, and stubble," teachings and practices that are not according to the teachings of God in His Bible. What about them? The text declares that the fire will try the Christian work of all the ages. Every religious system not in harmony with God's will, all human speculations which men have woven around the truths of the Bible, all the wood and the stubble, though brought with pious hands and placed in sincerity upon the one foundation, shall turn to ashes and wither like grass. And yet, because of that foundation, and the faith of those who wrought thereupon, they themselves shall be saved. We would distinguish between sectarian systems and the individuals gathered under them. We recognize the unity of all Christians as believers in Christ, but we can never recognize these divisions of Christ's spiritual body. That would be sanctioning the "wood, hay, and stubble." What, then, is our duty--to come to the second consideration--in this respect? So sensitive, my beloved hearers, have people become these days that when a clear Scriptural presentation of this matter is given, they will stop up their ears, and without giving thought or attention, will say: illiberal, uncharitable, bigoted! We are none of these. Not illiberal; we are just as liberal as God's plain Word permits us to be. We are not uncharitable;--the greatest charity is to tell a person the greatest amount of truth. And as to the charge of bigotry, that shows so much ill-feeling and bad judgment that we dismiss it without comment. The truth is, that, guided by the Bible, we cannot justify and hold fellowship with religious societies that teach doctrines contrary to the Bible, without sinning in a twofold way. First, we would mislead our own people to believe that the differences are of no fundamental character, that it makes no difference whether you believe that Christ's body and blood are in the Sacrament, or not, whether children are baptized and regenerated in baptism, or not, and so forth. That would be practically denying the faith; and secondly, by fellowshiping with these denominations, we would be endorsing their errors, and arouse the impression that it makes little or no difference whether they believe in the Bible, or not. When a man builds a house, he is very much on the alert that no shoddy, inferior material enters into the building; not one joint or door but it should measure up to the specifications. Strange that in the infinitely more important building of Christ's Church, people should be so indifferent as to the material and of things measuring up to the specifications of God's Word, and allow "wood, hay, and stubble" to take the place of gold, silver, and precious stones. God protect us against indifference. And then, to conclude, the members of what Church are we? The character, legitimacy, and proper Christianity of a church is its true, clear, unmistakable confession of the doctrines of the Scripture, and it is our right to say that these doctrines are embraced, held, and taught by us, and were thus held and taught by us before any of the multitudinous sects and parties about us had a being. The Mother of Protestantism,--what church is it? It was born, existed, and was mighty in strength before them all, and upon them rests the burden of proof and apology for their separate being. And we should go borrowing to them, or hesitate to speak a modest word in our favor? My Church, my Church, my dear old Church! I love her ancient name, And God forbid a child of hers Should ever do her shame. Her mother-care I'll ever share, Her child I am alone, Till He who gave me to her arms Shall call me to His own. Amen. EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And Elijah came unto all the people and said, How long halt ye between two opinions? If the Lord be God, follow Him; but if Baal, then follow him. And the people answered him not a word.--_1 Kings 18, 21._ It was a remarkable, but wise decision that King Solomon once rendered in a difficult case which was brought before him. Two women came to him with an infant to which they both asserted a mother's claim, the one contending that the other had overlaid her child, and taken hers from her before she was awake, and laid her own dead child in its place, whilst the other asserted that the contrary was the truth, saying, "The dead child is hers, and the living is mine." And now it was for the King to decide. But how was it to be done? Solomon calls for a sword. "Divide," he commands, "the living child in two, and give half to the one and half to the other." Then spake, says the Holy Record, the woman whose the living child was unto the King, for her bowels yearned upon her son, "O my lord, give her the living child, and in no wise slay it." But the other said, "Let it be neither mine nor thine, but divide it." Solomon instantly recognized the true mother's heart. "Give her the child," he said. The same it is with God, our true heavenly Parent. He does not want His children divided; He will have them entirely, as a whole living sacrifice, or not at all. The sum of His commandment and will regarding us, as repeated in to-day's Gospel lesson, is: "Thou shalt love the Lord, thy God, with _all_ thy heart, and with _all_ thy soul, and with _all_ thy mind." Of that would we remind ourselves in our present worship, taking for our instruction the Scripture read as our text. With the aid of the Holy Spirit we note Elijah's challenge on Mount Carmel,--_A call to Christian decision_. _I. The question at issue: "Is the Lord God?"_ _II. The obligation involved, "Then follow Him."_ Israel had had many wicked kings since the suicide of its first monarch, Saul, upon Mount Gilboa, but none more so than Ahab. The crowning iniquity of this unprincipled and despicable prince was the introduction of the idol called Baal into Israel. Baal signifies governor or ruler, and was the name given in the East to the chief male idol of the heathen. To the honor of this idol, temples were erected, bloody sacrifices offered, and the most shameful things perpetrated. Ahab had married Jezebel, the daughter of the idolatrous King of the Sidonians, and under her sway the worship of this idol had become sinfully popular in Israel. Four hundred and fifty priests served at his altar, and nearly an equally large number were appointed to the worship of his mate, Ashtaroth, for every male idol was wont to have his goddess. This abominable form of idolatry was going on in the land where God had thundered from the sides of Sinai as His first requirement: "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," and had declared: "My glory will I not give to another, nor my praise to graven images"; and in consequence the judgments of Jehovah were not slow to follow. No rain or dew had fallen for the space of three years, the heaven was as brass, and the earth like a nether grindstone.--Famine stalked throughout the land, when one day, as Ahab was wandering up and down the country searching for food, he met the stern and fearless prophet of Jehovah, Elijah, called the Tishbite. "Art thou he," asks the King, "that troubleth Israel?" Elijah retorts: "Not I have troubled Israel, but thou and thy father's house, in that ye have forsaken the commandment of the Lord, and thou hast followed Baalim." And so the contest is on, not so much between Elijah and Ahab as between the supremacy of Jehovah and Baal. How is the dispute to be settled? Elijah proposes a method. All Israel should be convened at a place specified, Mount Carmel. Two altars were to be erected, one by the champions of Baal, another by himself. Sacrifice was to be laid thereupon, and the God that would answer by fire to devour the sacrifice should be recognized victor. The test is accepted. You, as well-informed Bible readers, know the outcome. After futile attempts by the priests of Baal to secure the hearing of their God, Elijah addresses his God. In fervent prayer he raises his eyes and hands and heart to heaven. No sooner had the last words escaped the prophet's lips than down came the fire of God consuming the whole sacrifice and the wood, the stones, and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench, whilst the fickle people fell on their faces, crying: "The Lord, He is God; the Lord, He is God." Elijah then follows up his victory by commanding them to seize the whole group of Baal's priests and slay them at the brook Kishon. Thus did Jehovah terribly and surely vindicate His honor and majesty. What lesson may be gathered from this thrilling story? Beloved, the conflict between the forces of the true God and His opponents is not yet over, and, as of old, that conflict, in the final issue, centers in a question. At that time it was, "Is Jehovah the Lord God?" Formulated by the Lord Himself in the Gospel-lesson of this day, it now reads: "What think ye of Christ? Whose Son is he?" Or, in other words, Is He, Jesus Christ, God? Around that question are rallied the religious forces of to-day. The answer to that question determines men's attitude, their position on the one side or on the other; their answer to that question decides the destiny of every individual soul. According as the Gospel of Jesus Christ is accepted or rejected, will men stand or fall. What is it in its significance but the conflict of Mount Carmel over again? And how is this vital question to be decided? For the determining of the question, "Is Jesus Christ God?" there are many proofs, all of them conclusive and incontrovertible. We might point to Christ's spotless character and His immaculate life. "Which of you," He challenged His enemies, "convinceth me of sin?" And none who has ever examined into His life and character but is unstinted in His admiration and praise. "He was holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners"; He was divine. We could point furthermore to His teaching. Merely human mind and merely human lips never conceived and spake as He spake. As you study our Lord's utterances, what loftiness in His maxims, what profundity of wisdom in His discourses! The hearers of His time were constrained to exclaim, "Never man spake as this man speaketh," and He taught as one having authority and not as the scribes. No wonder, for He was the teacher come from God,--He was God. We could point out the divine influence His religion has exerted upon the world. Why do the nations write 1912 in the enumeration of time? Who has taken possession of everything great and grand in our age? Rather, should I say, who has made that which is great and grand in art, in music, in literature--the masterpieces, the sublimest productions? Whom do they treat of? The civilization of to-day--whose product is it but of His religion? thus stamping it and its Founder as divine, as God. But, my beloved, after all these and manifold other proofs have been adduced, there remains one more which, more than any other proof, brings home to us the conviction that Christ is God, not only intellectually, but morally, spiritually. From the scene upon Mount Carmel I would direct you to a scene upon another mount, Mount Calvary. There, too, we witness a sacrifice; there, too, lies a victim upon an altar, the altar of the cross. The fire of God's wrath comes from heaven to consume that sacrifice. How is that a proof of Christ's divinity? Because it solves, as nothing else can solve, the great problem of Religion, "How can man be saved, justified before God?" "No man can by any means redeem his brother, nor give to God a ransom for him." It required one more than mere man to do that--God Himself. What man can look upon that Calvary scene and contemplate the significance of it, but exclaim with the Roman centurion under the cross, "Truly, this was the Son of God,"--nor gaze upon the print of the nails in His hands, and the mark of the spear gash in His side, but confess, with the multitude upon Mount Carmel, "Jehovah--Jesus, He is the God! Jehovah--Jesus, He is the God!" There is no proof so powerful that Christ is God but the sacrifice of Calvary; yea, he who accepts not that sacrifice, together with the resurrection of Christ, believes not in Christ. That Old Testament scene and sacrifice points, and is a type, of the New Testament scene and sacrifice. May the impression and the confession it produced be the same on the lips of every one of us, as it was yonder on Mount Carmel,--"The Lord, even Christ, is God. He is my God." And now let us note the obligation it involved. The particular offense with which Elijah charges the people on this occasion is "halting." The word translated "halting" is old English. It does not mean standing still, but limping. Elijah's question, "How long halt ye between two opinions?" accordingly means, "Why do you not make up your minds; why do you not take a positive stand one way or the other and instead of vacillating between the worship of Baal and the worship of Jehovah, accepting neither fully, seize on to one or the other with full conviction, and follow that with _all_ your heart?" Decision, the taking of a position and holding to it, is the appeal of the prophet. And is his appeal not applicable in our own day? Is there no halting, limping, swaying, and swerving between two opinions? It is of just such people that our modern and immediate community is full; they take an intermediate position, a sort of betwixt and between; they are not out and out Christians, and still they wish to be rated as Christians. They admit their reverence for the Bible; they would not question anything taught on its testimony; they take delight in hearing occasionally a Christian preacher, attending upon Christian services; there is scarcely a mental or moral persuasion in favor of Christianity which they do not cheerfully entertain; they would not think of having their children grow up unchristened or a marriage in the family performed without a Christian minister, and when trouble and sorrow comes upon them, they look to Christian sources for consolation. And still, when the test comes for them to confess themselves in the appointed way as Christ's disciples, to take their places at the family table of the Christian Church, they have their excuses; they turn their backs and go off on to something else. "They've not been confirmed"; perchance, "they want to consider." As stated, our immediate neighborhood is full of such halting, compromising, so-near-and-yet-so-far people. What they want is not to "consider," but to act. Time for deliberation they have had plenty and long enough. One year, ten years, finds them still "considering." What they need is decision, action, and not to arrive at that is to remain in a state of sin and of danger, of ingratitude to God and discomfort to their own soul. If I am addressing any such, and I know that I am, let them not be offended, but earnestly regard and give up a position so unworthy, unsatisfactory, God and Christ-dishonoring. But does the appeal of the prophet in no wise apply to those who have made a pronounced confession, who have taken a stand, and whose names appear on the roster as His followers? Is there no indecision of conduct there, no limping, no dividing of one's heart between Baal and Jehovah? The ordinary type of Christian and church-member is not a person of fixedness, determination, neither in doctrine nor in practice. Baal still has his altar, only decked out in a different shape:--in the market-places of business, in the houses of amusements, in the halls of secret organizations and lodges. It is not an unusual thing to see men and women in our churches going to the Lord's Sacrament and belonging to societies which know not Christ and will have none of Him, reject His Godship and His sacrifice upon Calvary. It is not an unusual thing to hear men and women, young and old, singing hymns and doxologies and speaking words of Christian prayer, and then lifting up their voices in speech and song that tells not whose they are and whom they serve. The trouble with all of us is that we are not as outspoken in our testimony, as consistent and faithful, and unflinching as we ought to be, as our Christian duty and the honor of our Lord calls for and deserves. Having performed our vows and service to God in His temple, we are content to go back to the world and to business, forgetful that there, too, we should bear faithful witness for our Lord. From the text of the day may you form the noble resolution: "I will be always and altogether the servant of God, the follower of Christ; in which resolution do Thou, Lord, sustain me to the end." Thine forever! God of love, Hear us from Thy throne above. Thine forever may we be Here and in eternity. Amen. NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. After this there was a feast of the Jews; and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is at Jerusalem, by the sheep-market, a pool which is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five porches. In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the water. For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool and troubled the water; whosoever, then, first after the troubling of the water stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had. And a certain man was there which had an infirmity thirty and eight years. When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he saith unto him, Wilt thou be made whole? The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool; but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me. Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked: and on the same day was the Sabbath.--_John 5, 1-9._ The most serious charge that can be placed against mankind is this, that when the Gospel is proclaimed to them, that Gospel is rejected, that when pardon and salvation of God is offered, that offer is coldly and indifferently turned aside. We are sometimes surprised at this. We ought not to be. The same coldness and indifference was manifested years ago. It says: "Christ came into His own, and His own received Him not." To-day's Gospel records to us the cure of the paralytic. It was a most remarkable and convincing evidence that He who could bring to His feet this debilitated and disabled man was indeed the Messiah, the Savior of the world. But no; it started a wrangling among His enemies about the power of forgiveness of sin, and caused Him to be haunted with hatred and malice. And as a parallel passage to that Gospel miracle is the record here in the fifth chapter of St. John, part of which we have just heard. Let us notice now, _I. the history of the miracle_; _II. the instruction it imparts_. "After this," says the Evangelist, that is, after Jesus had conversed with the woman of Samaria at Jacob's well, and after He had healed the nobleman's son who was lying sick at Capernaum, "there was a feast of the Jews." The feast, it is generally supposed, was the Passover. And "Jesus went up," out of Galilee into Judea, "to Jerusalem." He went thither not only that He might pay all due regard to the Temple and to the Law, but also that He might have an opportunity of manifesting Himself and His doctrine to a greater number of people. "Now," says the next verse, "there is at Jerusalem by the sheep-market," or sheep-gate, a "pool," or a bath, the ordinary purpose of which was for bathing or swimming, but on account of the supernatural character of the water was called Bethesda, that is, the House, or Place, of Mercy. Around this pool, or bath, were built five porches, porticos, or verandas, which served to shelter from the heat and the cold those who frequented the place. In these porches "there lay a great multitude of impotent folk;" some of them were "blind," some "halt" (or lame), and others were "withered," that is, their sinews and muscles were disabled, withered in one particular part of the body, as the man with the withered hand, or all over, as in the case of the paralytic, whose friends had to bear him on a litter. These patients, at least most of them, were probably deemed incurable by ordinary methods, and therefore they were carried to Bethesda to wait and hope for a miraculous recovery there; for it pleased God (in order to show that He had not forsaken His chosen people, but was operating among them) to send "an angel" who went down at certain seasons into the pool and "troubled the water," by which troubling of it, and by the extraordinary motion that followed, the sick were informed of the time of the angel's descent, and, "whosoever then first, after the troubling of the water, stepped in" was instantly healed, while those who bathed afterwards obtained no relief. All sorts of opinions have been advanced as to this healing spring. That it was not the natural virtue, as in the case of mineral springs in this country, that wrought the cure, is evident from the circumstance that not one disease, but all manners of disease were healed by it; that these cures were performed not always, but only at the seasons appointed by God, and that not all who stepped in, but _one_ only was healed after the troubling of the water. What became of this fountain we are not told; very likely its miraculous properties did not continue for many years. In the porches around this pool was an impotent man; he had labored under a bodily infirmity for thirty and eight years. How long he had waited at the pool we know not, but certainly for a considerable period. But it was hoping against hope. The man was so utterly helpless that even if he saw the water disturbed, whilst he was slowly dragging himself along, another stepped in before him. When Jesus, therefore, passed by and saw him in this helpless condition, and knowing his past history, He asked him, "Wilt thou be made whole?" The man does not even give direct answer, but narrates the story of his long and futile expectation, whereupon Jesus gives this command: "Rise, take up thy bed and walk," when instantly, easily, as if the withered limbs had been thrilled with electric sparks, the man arises, takes up his bed, and walks away. Such is the history of the miracle; and now let us regard some of the instructions it imparts. Our interest is naturally divided between the man who had lain sick such a number of years, the pool, and the cure. And, surely, a long and wearisome time he had had of it,--thirty and eight years. The woman with the issue of blood who touched the hem of our Savior's garment, had borne her affliction twelve years, but that was scarcely one-third as long, and she was still able to be up and about. As then, so now. The number of those who lie on pallets and are bent low with sickness is larger than superficiality credits; in fact, those who have never been racked with pain, distressed with fever, are few and far between. How many ever give thought as to this providential dealing--have stopped to ask whence it comes, or what profit and lessons may be in it? It has been remarked by a famous writer that there are two chapters of human history that shall never be read upon the earth; the one chapter is the chapter of the dying. The feelings and emotions, the inexpressible thoughts and sensations that pass through the soul when the things of this world fade upon the senses, and the doors of eternity are about to swing open, is an experience which no human tongue or pen can describe, is something which none but ourselves can discover. And another chapter is the chapter of the sick and the ailing, as it is written in quietness within the narrow space of a couch and four walls, alternating perhaps with the operating table and passing through the dark valley of the Shadow of Death. And yet, something of this chapter may still be read, and most remarkable, significant, and ofttimes blessed things are experienced in the sickroom. Who dare say that the world in its present condition would be what it still is without this check, this intruder upon the affairs of life? Most men are inclined to regard sickness as a calamity, as a positive misfortune, a smiting scourge. It is not that. It has blessings both to the one afflicted and to those around him. Sickness may contribute to the development of the noblest qualities of the mind and heart. In the rush and tug of life men are too much inclined to concern themselves with the affairs of this life, to lose sight of the greater value of the unseen and eternal. Put such a one from the excitement of business and the frivolity of this world's fashions and pleasures prostrate upon his back with the hot fingers of disease clutching for his vitals or the sharp pains striking upon the heartstrings, and he must be thoughtless, even base, whose appreciation of the merely earthly things does not fall, and who does not learn that with all his boasted strength and all that he has and hopes for, he is only a pilgrim and stranger on this earth, and that there is something more worthy than what is seen and temporal. Oh! the quiet reflections of a sickbed. Many a man is indebted to them for a revelation which has been the wisdom and power of God unto his salvation when the message of Church and its servant had but very little effect. The parched lips of disease are often more eloquent and effective than man's lips. And he that fails of this salutary end of affliction, does not come forth a better person, more devoted and consecrated to his God, has missed the purpose for which it was sent, and gone out of the way of the Almighty. Of this man in the text we may have the assurance that the experience of thirty-eight years remained indelibly upon his mind and enrolled him among the faithful disciples of Christ. May it serve likewise in your case, my dear hearer, at the sickbed of many of whom I have had occasion and may yet be called to minister. And not only for the person afflicted, but for those attending and affected by the affliction, sickness is a blessing, a positive messenger of good and mercy. It is when disease has broken in upon their habitation that many a man has first learned to appreciate the kindly ministry of his life's partner; has keenly felt what this world would be like should death part them asunder, and the hearts sometimes estranged have again become reconciled and determined to bear and forbear. It is when the little cheek is hard pressed against the feverish and aching pillow that we feel how intensely we love that boy and girl and would sacrifice everything else dear to us to keep them. Yes, there is nothing in human experience to bring into larger and better exercise our common love and sympathy and to show that there is still some nobility, kindness, and pity in our shattered humanity than in the care and memories that cluster around the sickbed. Would to God that these experiences touching the hearts that perhaps for long time were dead would be of longer duration, for commonly they are so quickly forgotten and so easily erased from the mind. So much as to the first suggestion--the man's sickness. The place where he was lying was called Bethesda, which means House of Mercy. Nor need I inform you which is the true Bethesda, the House of Mercy, provided for the cure of those souls who are spiritually halt, blind, withered, and weak. That's the Church of Jesus Christ, and in that place there was a pool, as we heard, endowed with miraculous properties, greatly valued, thronged about by patients. To that pool we have in our Bethesda an exact and superior counterpart, a blessed fountain from which issues the stream of health and salvation upon the sinful and diseased race of man, a water allied not only with the contact of an angel, but with the presence of the Savior Himself. You know of what water I am speaking, you yourselves have been committed into this salutary flood. It is the Sacrament of Holy Baptism. It might be well to speak a few words on the subject. What Bethesda's part was for the body, that, my beloved, is Holy Baptism to the soul. It was a means of restoration and recovery, it gave health back to the limbs and frame. So does Baptism. "Arise, and be baptized, and wash away thy sins," said Ananias to Saul. "A washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Ghost," says Paul. "It works forgiveness of sins, delivers from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation," says Luther. Baptism is the means by which the Holy Ghost operates in a soul, the outward washing which you see with your eyes is a type of the washing which God's power affects invisibly. We speak of Baptism in our church not only as a rite, a ceremony, a form of initiation, but as a means of grace, as a means of salvation, by which we are christened, that is, made Christians. To elucidate. Outside of our city there are enormous reservoirs holding millions of tons of water, and we daily see vast tanks holding thousands of cubic feet of gas. But all of these would be useless unless pipes are laid to convey their currents. Lay those pipes, and you have the means of securing water in your homes and light in your dwellings. So the Sacraments, of which Baptism is one, are means by which God's blessings are brought to our souls. It's not an idle ceremony which one can dispense with at liberty, nor is it something which people can wait with till they are old enough to be taught the Christian faith and to understand it; as well might they dispense with the supply of water and illumination, or wait until they themselves can lay the pipes. No; God has given us the means, now we must use them, and use them as early as possible. If this man had spoken as disparagingly of the pool of Bethesda as some people speak of Baptism, and had in consequence kept away from its waters, he would not have met with Christ, and would have remained a cripple all his days. It is for us to use God's means, and to hold with the Scripture that no man is a Christian until he has been baptized. Of course, there is this difference between the impotent man in the Gospel and some in our community. He _could_ not enter the healing water, they _will_ not. They lie by the side of Bethesda, but, not believing in the healing waters, are never benefited as to their own souls. There are many objections made against Baptism. To repeat and publicly set aright one objection sometimes met with in our circles: What good does Baptism do? See how many children turn out bad afterwards notwithstanding. What good does it do? I answer: The same good that it does if you had water and illumination connection, and then cut it off. No good; on the contrary, if, having been made God's children, Christians, in Baptism, we afterwards live as heathen, so much the worse the sin as our Savior particularly warns this man who was healed. "Behold, thou art made whole; sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon thee." But had the man nevertheless gone back to his sinful life, would that have made the healing of no account? And so the fact that people once baptized live in sin does not make Baptism of no account. Marriage is not a failure because some who have married have proved failures. When a man enlists in the army, the form of enlistment makes him a soldier, but not necessarily a good soldier; he may prove to be a coward and traitor, but it put him in a position to lead a brave and useful life and to win honor and glory; if he chooses otherwise, it is his own fault. So in baptism we are made Christians, but it is our own fault if we afterwards turn out bad Christians. Baptism is the beginning, the means, not the end. We are put on the right road, we are made God's children, citizens of His kingdom of heaven. It is our own fault, not the Sacrament, if we develop into prodigals, wander out of the right road, prove cowardly soldiers and bad citizens. As to the third suggestion made, the cure, let us briefly note that the condition of that poor paralytic is the perfect emblem of our human nature, of ourselves without Christ. As he was diseased and helpless in body, so are we all diseased and helpless in soul. To a miracle of grace he owed his recovery; and where he found his cure, we must find ours. He stands before us this very moment again, that omnipotent Son of God, that compassionate Savior, and asks, "Wilt thou be made whole?" Wilt thou receive the absolution of thy God, the forgiveness of thy sins, through the mediation of my suffering and death? Nothing else can remove the palsy of our nature, nothing else can give health and soundness.--Let us, then, who feel our malady and wish it removed, answer, Yes, Lord, I will be whole. Jesus, give me true repentance By Thy Spirit come from heaven. Whisper this transporting sentence, "Son, thy sins are all forgiven." Amen. TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And He said also to the people, When ye see a cloud rise out of the west, straightway ye say, There cometh a shower; and so it is. And when ye see the south wind blow, ye say, There will be heat; and it cometh to pass. Ye hypocrites! Ye can discern the face of the sky and of the earth; but how is it that ye do not discern this time?--_Luke 12, 54-56._ Men have always been solicitous about the weather. In the morning they are desirous to know what the day will bring forth; in the evening, what sort of temperature it will be on the morrow. Curiosity, in part, a lack of something more important to think and talk about, and, in part, the regulation of one's duties and work prompt this concern. It has ever been so. In the Holy Land, when the sky was aglow with the exquisite tints of an Oriental sunset, it meant fair weather the next day; when the west wind, sweeping over the Great or Mediterranean Sea laden with moisture blew over the land, it was a safe indication of rain, whereas the breezes coming from the sterile and desert plains of the East portended a heated season and continued drouth. We have similar indications. Flocks of birds, at this season, flying across our city in search of a more congenial home, tell us of approaching winter. Not relying on such indications alone, the Government has established everywhere meteorological stations; weather forecasts are distributed broadcast, wireless telegraphy flashes out the approach of devastating storms, thus forewarning navigation and securing protection to citizens and property and life. All of which is commendable, argues forethought, wisdom, which God has designed that men should exercise. Nor does our Lord in the text in any wise disapprove of such precautions and measures. He would have us make application of that same forethought, wise provision, with respect to another sphere. "As you study the weather," is His direction, so you ought with equally observing and wakeful mind study the times, watch the signs, regard the phenomena that appear in the political, civil, social, mercantile, domestic skies, marking their bearing on the affairs of God's kingdom, and exercise respecting them the same forethought and sense of provision. That duty shall we now do in these moments of public worship, noting as our theme: _A few signs of the times and the corresponding duties of Christians and church-members. We shall observe:_ _I. Three such outstanding signs_; _II. what it becomes us to do_. The first outstanding sign, prevailing and predominating characteristic of our times, that we shall mention is commercialism. To explain:--the question of "what shall we eat, what shall we drink, and wherewith shall we be clothed," has always and everywhere been a live question. Men must live, and "to live" means the possession of the things just mentioned, food and drink, dress and property, the possession of this earth's goods; but it is a question whether in the history of the world these matters have bulged out so prominently and so monopolized the efforts and attention of men as at the present and in our own country. With the avenues of success open to every man that is industrious and intelligent, with competition keen, demanding concentration of energy and effort, gaining a livelihood and a little of this earth's goods has become like a whirlpool which draws and drags everything into its devouring current and vortex. The spirit of commerce is supreme; not, I suppose, that everybody loves money and this earth's goods simply and only for its own sake, but there is an excitement and fascination in having it; it stands for the standard of efficiency and worth and influence among men, so that all are scrambling and scheming for it. Listen to the trend of conversation, the topic of discussion in people's homes--what is it? Show a man a material advantage that he may secure, often at the sacrifice of honesty and principle, and he is your undying friend. Now, with men's minds thus set, it is but a natural consequence that it should affect their heart, endanger their spiritual life. Business, indeed, is not incompatible with piety. A man may be a devout Christian and church-member and an excellent business man, but it may so preoccupy his mind and preengage his heart that he ceases to think about religious matters at all. It is not an uncommon thing to see a man attentive unto the things of the Lord, intent in the services and the meetings of the church; when anything special is to be done, he is on hand to help. Business responsibilities increase, he becomes less earnest in these respects; he has to rise so early in the morning that he has no time or thought for prayer; he comes home so tired in the evening that he has no consideration for anything else, and if he goes out, it is in the interest of business. Even the Lord's day is levied upon, and when it comes, his mind is perchance more occupied while he sits under the pulpit with his figures than with the sermon. Tell him he is being missed,--the retort is the common, trite answer, "No time." But the real reason lies deeper. He has gotten into the current, he is being drawn into the whirlpool of commercialism, and if there be any who feel that I have been holding up a mirror wherein you have seen yourselves, let me urge upon you to take heed. You are paying too much for your material success, and if you do not return to your old anchorage, you may find yourself where you had never thought to get--afar from Christ, His worship and service. There is nothing better than for a man occasionally to take his bearings, to find where he is located, and whether he is holding his own against the stream of opposite tendency that is flowing through our social life, in which he is drifting, being carried in opposite direction, among those who pass from the neglecting to the despising and rejecting of the great salvation. Hand in hand with this tendency of our times there is another: indifferentism. Certainly, if everything is gauged by the measurement of dollars and cents, then men's thoughts are absorbed by material considerations. It is quite natural that religion should be placed on the same low basis. Indifferentism generally resolves itself into a question. That question is, "What's the use? What's the use of prayer? Has it ever brought you any gain? What have you that you wouldn't have if you had not prayed?" "What's the use of going to church? What benefit has it ever brought you? It has not fetched you one customer, one penny of profit, rather the reverse--it has been an expense, easily avoidable." "What's the use of going to the Lord's Supper? A man may be a Christian for all that." "God governs the world, His providence overrules it all, but it is, after all, the man who plans and plods that wins out, so why be concerned about this overruling Providence?" "When the end comes, well, then I hope there is a place where those who, like myself, have tried to be honest and upright will finally get to. I am willing to risk my chances. What is the use of being over-much concerned about the future?" It is not that our times are stubbornly and positively atheistic and infidelic; perhaps there was never less of that than now. But comparatively few in speech or person or in print venture to attack Christianity as a system. The danger lies elsewhere. We have lapsed into a state of indifference. There is a passing away of an earnestness of conviction, of moral stamina, of strength of belief. What was once accepted as God's truth is now called into question. "Don't emphasize creed, doctrine, destructive belief; we have gotten beyond that." Yes, we have gotten beyond that, and in consequence have gotten and are daily getting into a current that shall find us contending for the simplest truths of the Christian faith. What fad, however unscriptural and irrational, but it finds multitudes of followers. Consider the greatest fad that is sweeping over the land--Christian Science. How is it possible that such an absolutely heretical, nonsensical system of unchristian, anti-Biblical statement should ever have had such a phenomenal growth, if our people were not so dreadfully indifferent in matters of Bible teaching? The same is true of the Russellites, whose publications are being distributed broadcast over the land, who deny the simple doctrines of hell and resurrection, and foretell the time of Christ's coming to Judgment and to reign in unadulterated bliss for thousand years. The Catechism is denounced from the pulpits. "Why instruct the juvenile mind in such fetters of theology?" "What is there to confirmation?--teaching children in their teens to confess a faith they do not half comprehend?" The good old Bible Book--"is it really what has been claimed for it?" Do not most clergymen of progressive ideas put allegorical interpretations upon its stories, for instance, the fall of man into sin? Do not many learned scholars point out what they claim to be discrepancies, and say it must be considered and weighed just like every other book in which are some good things and some inferior? And the sorry consequence of all this? It is this, that we have no positive conviction at all, that the majority are like a vessel without a guiding compass or a determinate course, floating hither and thither, as the wavering current of whims or opinion may chance to drive them. And if, to note the application, we are asked whether we join in this trend of thought of the times, this contemptuous treatment of the Word of God and Catechism, we should answer with an emphatic "No." But are we quite sure that we have not imbibed a little of it unconsciously? After so much has been said about the old-fashioned hell,--a hard doctrine for sentimental souls to believe,--why not mitigate it a little, and believe that after this life poor sinners have another chance?--'Tis true, the Savior does say, "This do in remembrance of me," "but I guess I'll not be condemned if I do not go to His Sacrament." Beloved hearer, you may flatter yourself that it will have no effect upon you, but unless you conscientiously and determinedly watch it, you will find yourself yielding to it. Beloved, we watchmen on the towers of Zion, scanning the skies and observing the signs, are everywhere noting the indifference among our older members, among our young people, and the only thing to do is to get back to the old anchorage, to place our faith firmly and securely upon the rock of eternal Truth, _i. e._, the grand old Bible. Its words are truth and nothing but the truth. Let that be our guide in doctrine, in practice. What that says let us believe; what that forbids let us forsake; that will put us right and keep us right. These vagaries and fluctuating opinions of men and women will pass away like the clouds of the air; but even though heaven and earth pass away, God's Word will not pass away. Our safety and happiness lies in adhering to what it teaches and following its directions.--When the storm-clouds are gathering in the horizon and the weather bureau flashes out the danger signals, then it is wisdom to seek shelter, to get under somewhere. There is such an ark of safety yet, and that is the Church of Christ, where His cross and Gospel are preached, held and confessed, uncompromisingly. Take your place there as a consistent, positive member, and avoid indifference in religious matters. And one more disastrous sign of the times would we regard. I need not remind you that the brightest jewel that we possess under the Constitution of this country is religious liberty. Its wise and pious framers, knowing both from reason and from sharp experience that religious liberty can only exist in the strict separation of Church and State, adopted every precaution to prevent the admission of anything hostile to religious liberty, to go into the political machinery of the state. Their object was "a free church in a free country." It is well known, not suspicion merely, but known by those who have the best understanding of the times, that a spirit has of late years prevailed which is intensely hostile to the civil and religious principles of our government. There have been some bold encroachments on the part of a subtle and formidable antagonist. You know whom I mean--Rome, dangerous Rome, which does not believe in the separation of Church and State, which acknowledges but one head, who is the embodiment of temporal, political, and spiritual power, which openly and unequivocally asserts that the civil authority is subordinate to the Church. Rome's representatives have been loaded with official favors and flatteries; Rome's interests have been fostered with the most fatal insidiousness by political leaders; Rome has been caressed, and complimented, and taken into confidence and alliance with those in authority. What is the meaning of all this? Sordid maneuvers of diplomacy and craft undermining the fundamental principles and rights of our Constitution, menacing clouds in the sky that threaten our civil liberty. And what is to be done? We ought to know; the name which graces our denomination points the way. Luther gave Rome its death-wound in his day by wielding so powerfully the sword, the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Let us grasp that selfsame sword; let us teach the doctrines which he taught so effectively to its overthrow, and we, too, shall prevail. Point out the soul-destroying errors of Rome, and you unarm her spiritually. And again, as citizens, let us make a determined and combined movement to repel the creeping invasion, the subtle but forceful and successful invasion of popery. The political leading men of our day may not be conscious of it; let us hope, in the judgment of charity, that they are not; but it is perfectly clear that the influence of that dark and mysterious and tremendous system is upon them. For us who have studied and know Rome it becomes to counteract, eradicate every tendency that would break down or reduce our constitutional liberties. We have mentioned three specific signs--commercialism, indifferentism, Romanism. Let us, keeping our eyes open, beware of the destructive power of the first, the deadening influence of the second, the insidious danger of the third, and so pass through these things temporal that we lose not the things eternal. Amen. TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it? Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him, saying, This man began to build, and was not able to finish.--_Luke 14, 28-30._ In the pass of Thermopylae, in the country of Greece, there stands a monument, world-renowned, erected to Leonidas and his valiant three hundred. It bears the inscription: "Go, stranger, and tell at Sparta that we died here fighting to the last in obedience to our laws," and commemorates that thrilling event when Leonidas with his three hundred successfully held the pass of Thermopylae against tremendous odds until betrayed into the hands of the enemy. What it bears magnificent witness to is the quality of loyalty, steadfastness. The same noble quality does God require, look for, in His people. The Apostle in to-day's Epistle, summing up the conduct of the spiritual soldier, says: "Stand, therefore, and having done all, stand," and again, emphasizing the same virtue, he remarks: "Watching thereunto with all perseverance." It is not the boldest regiment that always makes the best record, but that which holds out the longest. It is not the most enthusiastic Christian and ardent church-member that wins His Master's commendation, but he that proves "faithful." The parable of our text brings home to us the same lesson. It tells us of a man who contemplates the erection of a tower. Before entering upon his enterprise, he first sets down and, with pencil in hand, figures the cost, whether his funds will permit him to undertake the matter, lest, having begun and failing, he become the laughing-stock of his neighbors, and the uncompleted structure a monument to his folly. Equally so, does the Savior point out, is it, in another sphere, the realm of religion. A person hears the call of religion, feels its power and promptings, its necessity and claims; his heart is persuaded, his mind is made up, he ought to, and wants to be, a Christian, in the words of the parable, he contemplates the erection of the tower, but ordinary prudence bids that he should sit down and consider the costs, lest, beginning and not completing, the venture end in dismal failure, and he become the object of mockery and contempt. And yet is it not this ordinary, common-sense method, which they apply so keenly otherwise, that so many disregard in matters of soul? Why else would there be so many apostates, fallings away, in the ranks of confessed believers? Let us, then, wisely and for once sit down for a few moments in public Christian worship, and consider this matter, noting: _The parable of the tower--an exhortation to Christian steadfastness._ We shall group our remarks around two chief thoughts: _I. What does it cost to be a Christian?_ _II. Does it pay to be one?_ To begin with, let it be noted that Christianity connects with cost; it _does_ cost to be a Christian. There is a type of religion which is not only a very easy, but a most inexpensive kind. Putting on the garment and speaking the language of godliness, it is stranger to its power. However, that type is not the building of a tower, rather of a shack, a flimsy construction which the slightest wind-storm and rising rivulet will soon sweep away. In building a substantial structure, the first concern is the foundation. You do not see that, it is hidden from view; yet upon that foundation rests the building, and it is just as strong as its foundation. So, spiritually, the main part of Christianity is hidden, it is something that takes place away from human view; yet upon that unseen experience rests its reality, its strength. What is that experience? In laying a foundation, there is, first, the excavation, the removal of the soil, of all obstructions and obstacles. This is difficult work and costly work. So, spiritually, religion calls for the removal of obstacles, obstructions, soil. Man's heart is not fit to build the tower of Christ's religion, it must undergo a change; "old things must pass away." There must be a plowing up. There are painful memories to be recalled, sins to be mourned over, habits and ways of thinking and doing to be given up, likes and loves and feelings to be renounced. It is as true now as it ever was that "except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." We call this repentance, contrition, sorrow over one's sin. It means the reconstruction and transformation of one's nature, and costs many a pang, many a sigh, many an inner struggle and protest. Then, when the rubbish and soil have been removed, the excavation has taken place; there must be a laying of the foundation. Which that foundation is, is plain. "Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ." Belief in Christ, faith in the Savior, must follow, else there can be no tower. My dear hearer, have you undergone that change of heart, experienced that inner sorrow? Have you paid the first cost? Laying a foundation without building thereupon does not answer the purpose. We must add a superstructure, and this also costs. And what is the superstructure? St. Paul speaks of it when he writes: "I beseech you, brethren, by the mercies of God that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service," when he says to the Corinthians: "Ye are bought with a price, therefore glorify God in your bodies and in your spirits, which are God's," or quite briefly remarks: "For me to live is Christ." We call this adding of the superstructure, consecration, and what does it involve? Everything. Beginning with yourself, it levies upon your body, your mind, your soul, your time, talents, influence, possessions, property, money, your all. It is just to this particular, of consecration, dedication of oneself and possessions, that Christ refers in the verses preceding the text: "If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life, he cannot be my disciple." Earthly love, domestic relations, material considerations--nothing is permitted to stand in the way of absolute and entire consecration of oneself, and all one has and possesses, to Christ. Beloved, is this not a particular which many who profess to be Christians do not apprehend? When they are called upon to give themselves, of their time and means and ability, to the cause of the Lord, they feel and act as though some great thing is being asked of them, that they are doing something superfluous. They need not feel so. It is a matter they ought to have weighed when they entered upon Christian life. God lays His hand upon all that you are, and all that you have, and says: "This is mine," and only he and she are building properly upon the foundation which is Christ who say: "Here, Lord, am I and all that is mine. Upon thy altar it lies in holy consecration. Lord, what wilt Thou have me do?" And one other cost would we mention. It costs courage. Not exactly the same courage as when called upon, in the early centuries, to face the tortures of the rack, the beasts of the Coliseum and the flames of the martyr's stake, yet a courage, none the less noble, a moral courage. There are plenty of things to discourage us. "Is this vile world a friend to grace to help me on to God?" No, it is not. It is full of conflicts and criticisms and sharp collisions. If so many Christians of our day have such a good and easy time of it, is it not because they are not Christians after the style of the apostles and the early martyrs? Satan is still the god of this world, and one need only take a decided stand against him, and the things that belong to him, to find it out. Yes, it costs something to be a Christian, a consecrated church-member. A Christian cannot be, cannot act and do, as non-Christians, non-church-members act and do. Aye, does it not frequently call for courage even to be known as a church-member? The finger of scorn is pointed and the sneer of sarcasm is hurled at many a one for that. Nor only from those that are without; discouragement frequently comes from those who are within. Christians are the communion of saints, but their behavior toward each other is not always saintly. Human nature, everywhere ugly and crabbed, is apt to make itself manifest there too. Appreciation deserved, gratitude looked for, is not always received. And this is very trying, betimes; in fact, some think that it is beyond all endurance, judging by their withdrawal. But have those that so feel ever thought it over? Whoever builds a house without having some unpleasantness, and sometimes great unpleasantness? But does he, therefore, desist from completing the structure? Know, my dear hearer, whatever may be the nature of the annoyances, difficulties, and hindrances to Christian life and church-membership, they belong to the costs, and when they occur, face them with becoming courage and steadfastness. A sorry soldier that will throw away his gun and quit the ranks because of the discouragements in the way! This, then, is what it costs to be a Christian--repentance, consecration, courage. And are the returns adequate to the cost? What benefit is there in being a Christian, erecting such a tower? Does it pay? There are people who think not. They consider that they make the most by keeping aloof. Whether they have done it by careful figuring out, like the man in the parable, is doubtful, but they are persuaded in their own mind that they are the gainers by not identifying themselves with Christ and His Church. They do not like religious restraints. They wish to be free to do as they please. They can enjoy more of the comforts and pleasures of life, can pursue their ways with less compunction, make more money, gain more friends, if they keep themselves out of the church entanglements and obligations. So they reason and congratulate themselves. But what advantage have they over us? The truth is that there is not a single relation or human interest in which it does not pay to be a Christian. To specify briefly: It pays to be a Christian physically; godliness teaches and inculcates all those laws and things that produce and promote health, the welfare of one's body. It pays to be a Christian materially, in one's labors and business. To be a good man, to have the reputation of honesty, is as fine a business capital as any one would want. It pays domestically; the home where godliness prevails approaches the ideal home and is the strongest bulwark of society. The same holds good with regard to the joys of life. "Religion was never devised to make our pleasures less." Religion sanctifies our pleasures; it draws the checkreins upon ungodly extravagances and excesses; and so it pays also in this respect. And when it comes to the dark side of life, the manifold difficulties and troubles that accompany man in his abode here below, "when other helpers fail and comforts flee"--oh, for the power, the comfort, the divine support of religion! And we have said nothing yet of the strictly spiritual advantages. It pays to be a Christian; a Christian possesses a good conscience, which is more valuable than all of this world's possessions, the sunshine of God's forgiveness and favor through faith in his Savior; the blessed joy and inspiration that comes from prayer and worship of God. Nor does the matter stop there. When the scenes of this time and world fade upon our vision; when, passing through the dark and shadowy valley and before the judgment seat of Him to whom we must give account; when the glories of the Golden City open and the crown immortal is placed upon our brow,--then we shall realize that it pays to be a Christian. To conclude,--there should be any right-thinking, calculating person that, having begun, will fail to complete the building of this tower? How foolish before God and men, how dangerous! Be steadfast! be wise!-- "Build on, my soul, till death Shall bring thee to thy God; He'll take thee at thy parting breath To thy divine abode." Amen. TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.--_Gal. 6, 1._ The Christian Church is frequently compared with a hospital. The comparison is correct. Christ calls Himself a Physician; then those to whom He has come to heal are sick, and the institution which He has established for the spiritually soul-sick is the Church. Not for those who regard themselves well, who in self-righteous haughtiness would be no sinners, but for those who, acknowledging their soul-sickness, are looking for healing from the Physician of souls, Christ Jesus, is this divine institution. The Church, we may aptly say, is a hospital. In a hospital, however, we have respect to proper treatment, we desire to become rid of our ailment, and are ready to submit to any course and remedy that will promote our healing. Equally so in the spiritual hospital ought we to be ready and thankful for any method and manner of treatment that helps us become rid of our sins, our faults, our errors. Such a course, suggested by the Gospel-lesson, would we for once regard in this morning devotion. Let us consider _a Christian's duty toward an erring brother_, noting, _I. what this duty is_; _II. how it is to be performed_; _III. some of the happy results_. "Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual restore such an one in the spirit of meekness." What the Apostle here commands is this: If a Christian, a member of a congregation, falls, those who are standing are to help him up again. If he falls into error of doctrine, they are to bring him to the belief of the Bible truth, and if he falls into some sin of life, they are to remonstrate with him, so that he may repent and return into the way of right. That this is one of the most difficult of Christian duties is true, and that it is a duty grossly neglected by Christians is true also. But for that reason it becomes all the more necessary to call attention to it. "Thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbor, and not suffer sin upon him," we read Lev. 19. Solomon says: "Rebuke a wise man, and he will love thee." A greater than Solomon, even our Savior, has said: "If thy brother trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault." Again, St. Paul directs: "Reprove, rebuke, exhort with all long-suffering." These are but a few of many similar texts of Scripture that might be cited to show that to reprove an erring fellow-Christian is just as solemn and weighty as that which tells us, "Thou shalt not steal," or admonishes to read our Bibles, and attend on public worship. And be it noted, this is every Christian's duty. It will not do to say: Let the pastor do it, or let those do it who are better qualified than myself. It is indeed the pastor's duty, and it is the duty of those of whom you say they are better qualified than yourself, and it is also your duty; for thus says the Apostle: "Ye which are spiritual restore such an one." If you are spiritual, if you are a Christian, it is your duty to apply brotherly admonition; and is it right to shift your duty on to the shoulders of others? Christians may easily sin by depending too much on the pastor to do everything. The pastor cannot be everywhere, cannot see everything, and often it is wrong to tell him about everything. The direction here is not only for the pastors, but for all the members. That question of qualification is indeed a delicate thing. The truth is that those who think themselves qualified, and therefore use impertinent boldness, are generally not qualified for effectual brotherly admonition. If God has placed you into such a situation that you see a brother in danger of losing his soul through error, sin, or despondency, then let not the feeling of disqualification seal your lips, but sigh to God to open your lips to speak a word of instruction, rebuke, or comfort as it seems needed. Remember, it is a duty, this matter of Christian reproof, something which God has plainly and strongly commanded us to perform. This is our first consideration. However, if brotherly admonition is to have the proper effect, it must be applied in the right way. "Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault." That does not mean that a Christian should make it his business to rebukingly approach others for little and insignificant faults. In that case he would soon be regarded as a faultfinder, an overly eager critic, and would no more be listened to. Brotherly admonition should be applied in such things by which the brother's soul is endangered if left to go on therein. I shall mention a few,--neglect of attendance upon divine worship and sacrament, intemperance, when one is convinced that the visits to the drinkhouse are too frequent, habitually frequenting the playhouse, the dancing-floor, living in some secret sin, using ungodly, profane speech, being irreconcilable with one's housemates or fellow-members. These are faults, and when one is overtaken in such a fault, then it becomes my Christian duty and yours to restore such a one--how? In the spirit of meekness, with mildness, kindness, humility. Nothing is more opposed to the spirit in which Christian rebuke is to be administered than harshness, haughtiness, abruptness, overbearing manner. Hard words are apt to incite opposition and stubbornness. A reproof kindly given is like a healing oil. A tornado destroys, a mild breeze refreshes. Brotherly admonition is only then indeed brotherly when given in a brotherly manner. In reproving an offending brother, we must make it apparent that it is his highest good that we honestly seek; it must be obvious that we have no personal dislike to gratify, no spleen to vent, no feeling of superiority. It must be manifest to him that we do it from a sincere conviction of duty, from a feeling that if we did not care for him and sincerely desire his happiness as a Christian, we could never be induced to attempt this painful duty. This is the spirit with compassion for the offended. There must be a spirit like this, and oh! the power in Christian rebuke when administered like this. It will subdue and reclaim anything but a heart of adamant. But this meekness must be mingled with humbling conviction of our own frailty and liability to sin. "Considering," wrote the Apostle, "thyself, lest thou also be tempted." We must go to the erring brother with that gentle and subdued spirit resulting from conviction and practical view of our own numerous sins, and a holy fear of falling ourselves, that we may soon need the Christian reproof of a brother for our own faults. Fraternal kindness and gentleness does not exclude--what we must yet mention--firmness. The hand of the surgeon who amputates a diseased limb or growth from the human body, must be a steady hand, unmoved by the cries and the writhing of the patient. It is not cruelty, but kindness to the sufferer, that keeps the surgeon undiverted and firm to his purpose till the operation is performed. So he that would successfully administer Christian reproof must have his heart firmly set on the work. He must go about it with an inflexible determination to accomplish, by God's aid, what he attempts. The wincing irritability, ill temper, and provoking replies of the offended must not for a moment divert him from his purpose, or throw him off his guard. He must approach with the purpose of winning him back to truth and the path of righteousness. Hating the sin, but loving the sinner, he must hold on until the person has been saved or proved to be incorrigible, a manifest and unrepentant sinner. So much as to the manner--"with meekness and firmness." And are there any happy effects to be realized from the faithful performance of this duty? That is the last general thought to be presented, namely, the blessed consequences of Christian reproof. The first happy effect is that it will free the Christian who performs this duty from being partaker of others' sins, and will give him a peace of conscience which he cannot otherwise enjoy. God has solemnly warned us Christians: "Be ye not partakers of other men's sins." Now that professing Christian who fails to rebuke or reprove a brother whom he knows to be in fault, silently assents to that brother's sin. His conduct obviously shows that he either does not consider his brother as sinning at all, or that his fault is so trivial that it is not necessary to tell him of it. That is the inference which the erring brother himself draws. Now we are, to some extent, the keepers of our brother's soul, and if we do not use the means and the influences which we might use to free him from his faults, God will hold us accountable, partakers, a portion of the guilt attaches to us. We may complain of this as hard if we choose, but this will not alter the case. There are two ways in which we can free ourselves from being partakers of other men's sins. The one is by living holy lives ourselves; the other, Christian reproof to them for their faults. Not only must our lives testify, but our lips. You would pardon the personal illustration. We were friends. Six years did we occupy the same desk and room together. A sin was fastening itself upon him, the general word for it is "tippling," fancy drinking. I remonstrated with him, as talented a student as ever was. He has long fallen from the Christian ministry, and his body lies in a drunkard's grave, one of the saddest experiences of my life. But one consolation,--I spoke to him words of Christian reproof. Would you be untarnished by the guilt of other men's sins, and blessed with a peace of conscience to be procured on no other terms, be faithful in the performance of this duty. A second happy effect of the faithful performance of this duty is that it will prevent the evil of talebearing and backbiting. A prevalent, giant evil this, also in some of our churches among Christians. Anything that would remedy this evil ought to be hailed with gladness. God has brought His authority to bear on it in the direct command: "Thou shalt not go up and down in the land as a talebearer; thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor." The Lord Jesus Himself has laid down the law that Christians are not permitted to talk about the faults of others till they have gone to them and told them their faults alone. How much this rule is regarded some of our consciences can testify. But let it be done, and you will see how talebearing and backbiting will cease; for either as you go to the erring brother or sister in the spirit in which reproof ought to be administered you will find, in not a few instances, that you were mistaken, that the person is not guilty in the matter, as you had supposed, and then, of course, you cannot go about speaking of his fault; or if you find that he is actually at fault to the extent that you thought he was, he will no doubt, on faithful reproof, make an apology, and then, with what face can you go about talking to others of his fault? If there is anything distressing, causing permanent estrangement, discord, and heart-burning, it is to take up evil reports against each other, circulate them without ever going to the person incriminated, and inquiring into the truth or falsehood of what is spread. And this devilish work will cease or become rare, and the calumniator will be regarded as doing the work of his father, the devil, if Christians will faithfully perform the duty of reproof in the right spirit. To repeat,--if we have anything to say of a brother, let us say it first to him. Let us say nothing in his absence that we should be afraid to utter in his presence. And when any one comes with an evil report against another, let us refuse to listen to him, unless he can assure us that he has said all that he is going to utter to the person whom it most concerns. It will check, prevent the evil of talebearing. And to mention briefly one other blessed effect,--it will promote a feeling of brotherliness and promote prosperity of the congregation. To speak to a delinquent brother, give him to understand that he is missed and doing amiss, is to give him to understand, at the same time, that he is thought of, that we should like to have him to be what his own conscience testifies he ought to be; and this consideration, kindly and firmly made, cannot but make him, if he is not past all correction, feel attracted and attached toward those who are concerned about him. To keep the unity of spirit in the bonds of peace, to banish prejudice, hatred, to promote and build up a strong, solid, permanent church-body in which the members cling to each other, Christian reproof is a most valuable means. Christian reproof is something which deeply concerns the spiritual life and growth of a congregation. To conclude: How far, Christian brethren, have we been faithful to the admonition of the text? Have you ever, since connected with this church, made one serious attempt to reclaim an erring brother or sister? There is, I know, a little of this spirit among us; may it prosper and grow, and the Lord will surely give His blessing. Amen. TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how the people cast money into the treasury. And many that were rich cast in much. And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing. And He called unto Him His disciples and saith unto them, Verily, I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in than all they which have cast into the treasury. For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all she had, even all her living.--_Mark 12, 41-44._ The words just read from sacred story are the simple record of a pious deed performed more than a thousand years ago in the city of Jerusalem. It speaks of a poor woman modestly putting in her contribution into the treasury of the Temple. At the time to which the text refers the Savior had just silenced the cavils and objections of the scribes and Sadducees, as we heard in the Gospel of to-day, and was remaining in the temple a few moments longer and taking His seat near the place where the people were wont to deposit their offerings. As He watched the multitudes surging to and fro and with His all-seeing eye scanned the various depositors placing their gifts into the receptacle, He had nothing to say. But when a poor widow came along, unnoticed and overlooked, as the artists generally picture her, with a little one at her side and an infant upon her breast, and drops in her insignificant coin of two paltry mites, there was something that broke the current of His thoughts, and calling His disciples, He directed their attention to the humble gift and the unpretentious offerer. Though that gorgeous Temple has long passed away, and the magnificent city is in ruins, that simple act of piety lives on, as fresh and beautiful as the moment of its performance. This Sunday has been set aside in the course of the church-year for the consideration of Christian beneficence. It is an eminently proper and legitimate topic, and one on which instruction and stirring up is needed the same as on any other. Some think such sermons aside from the Gospel, but that only shows how imperfect is their knowledge, and how important it is to bring the matter forth from the obscurity to which some would consign it. Paul frequently introduces it into his doctrinal epistles. The Savior Himself embraced in it many of His discourses, and it is difficult to see how any Christian minister is discharging his duty of faithfully and fully declaring the counsel of God to his people who fails betimes to give it a prominent place in his pulpit ministrations. Let us regard as our theme this morning: _The widow's mite, an encouraging model of Christian beneficence, observing_, _I, the motive why we should give_; _II. the measure and proportion in which we should give_; _III. the method how we should give_. May God bless the presentation of His Word! First, the motive of giving. What prompted this poor widow to give? She had been worshiping in the Temple, had witnessed the beautiful and inspiring services, had been edified by the instruction of God's Word, her heart was warmed and stirred with appreciation for these spiritual blessings, and as she passes out with the throng and views the receptacle at the entrance, well knowing what it had been placed there for, she cannot resist, but under a sense of obligation, a strong feeling to reciprocate, and do something toward the maintenance of God's house, she draws forth two little coins and drops them in, then, more destitute of means, but richer in heart, proceeds on her way. And the like motives ought to prevail with us. We confess in the Creed: "I believe that God has made me and all creatures, that He richly and daily provides me, that He defends me against all danger"; that Jesus Christ, our Lord, has redeemed us lost and condemned creatures; that the Holy Ghost has called us by the Gospel, enlightened us with His gifts, sanctifies and keeps us in the true faith; and for all that, what shall we render for God's gifts? His blessings are indeed always freely bestowed, without any merit or worthiness on our part; nevertheless, they call for gratitude, recognition, appreciation. And in consideration of gifts so unspeakable is any offering of gold, or frankincense, or myrrh too large? what ointment of spikenard too costly? The spirit of showing gratitude, as in the case of this widow, is one motive, and a most beautiful and God-honoring one, why we ought to give to Him: the honor of His name and the spread and prosperity of His cause--in His temple. The other is this,--the sense of our obligation. He desires and commands us to do so. Everywhere in the Scripture of God do we find the matter of giving, especially for religious purposes, spoken of with commendation and inculcated as part of the very essence and life of true godliness, whether we look to the Old Testament or to the New Testament, to prophets, apostles, or Christ Himself, the language is the same. "Honor the Lord with thy substance, and with the first fruits of all thine increase." "To do good and to communicate, forget not, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased." In to-day's Gospel the Lord plainly enough says: "Render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, and unto God the things that are God's." In a certain sense it is all His, of course. "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof." The silver and the gold are His. But it belongs to His wisdom and providence to make us His stewards in the disposition of His, and in that disposition He lays down very emphatically the law: "Render unto me the things that are mine." Every penny that we possess is stamped with the divine image and superscription. He still sits over against the treasury, and observes what we are putting into the receptacle, whether we are giving unto Him what it is our duty to give. These are, then, the motives,--gratefulness and dutifulness. And now as to the _measure_, the amount of Christian giving--the how much. As we turn to the record, two parties are distinguished. The one wealthy.--"Many," it says, "that were rich cast in much." That the rich should give and gave largely, and that this was the case not with a few, but with numbers of them, was to their honor, especially since the practice has never been common, experience showing that "many that are rich do not cast in much." And the other, indigent, the poor, selected by way of a specific example--a widow. The idea sometimes is that poor people ought not be asked to give. This is a mistake. Poor people can give, and ought to give, out of their poverty, as well as rich people ought to give out of their riches. Poor people can hurt themselves, and injure their souls, and prove themselves niggardly and illiberal by not giving just as well as rich people can. True, they cannot give as much as the more favored, in the actual amount of their gifts, but they _can_ give as much in proportion to their means. We often hear people say, if they were only rich, willingly would they contribute to every good cause, and munificent things would they do with their money. But all such charitable words and sentiments are just nothing. The thing is to give the gift of poverty, if poor, without being ashamed of it, and not to sentimentalize about the great things we would do if we were rich. The fact is that few people ever get rich, and if wealth increases, desires, styles of living, and general expenses increase with it, and the wealthy man has so many expenditures, so many demands to meet, so many drains upon him, that he is just about as poor in his riches as he was without them. This is the plain fact in the vast majority of cases. Indeed, exceptions are very rare. It is, therefore, a mere matter of self-deception for people to talk how liberal they would be if they were rich. Moreover, what are we coming to if we regard only the rich as under obligation to give? No! Christian liberality is a thing for the poor as well as the rich, and for the most part facts prove that the poor are more liberal than the rich. To come back to our text: Such were the donors our Savior recognized, both poor and rich. Let us note, furthermore, their contribution. While the rich gave much, the widow "threw in" only "two mites," which make a farthing, with us half a cent. It is easy to conceive what the givers themselves would think of their donations. The rich would be satisfied, imagining that they had done their duty, if not more than was required of them, while the poor widow would deem what she had done unworthy of notice, and, perhaps, felt ashamed to cast into the treasury such a mean trifle. Others, too, who were lookers-on, had they known what the parties gave, would have extolled the one as prodigies of liberality, while they would have treated the other with neglect, or reproached her for giving what she could not afford. But how were those two mites viewed by Him whose eyes were as a flame of fire, and who searcheth the reins and the hearts? "And He called unto Him His disciples, and saith unto them, Verily, I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in than all they which have cast into the treasury. For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all she had, even all her living." At first this seems strange, and our Lord could not mean that she had given more than all the others as to quantity, but more as to motive, more as to principle, more, relatively, as to their condition and her circumstances; more comparatively. These men had given much; they had done it of their abundance and superfluity, and could go home to houses filled with plenty, and to tables spread with delicacies, while she went home to a lonely apartment, and opening her cupboard, found little, and that the earning of her hard toil. What an encouragement this! And the less favored in this world's goods require it. We have known persons remaining away from the house of God--this house of God--because they could only appear in workday clothing, and others who have been prevented from meeting with the congregation because they felt that they could not do what was expected of them. Let none such, however humble their condition, or limited their means, for a moment suppose that they are less regarded; let them beware of making the sad mistake that because they cannot do much, they are justified in doing nothing. The commendation of Mary was: "She hath done what she could," whereas the condemnation of the unprofitable servant was that because he did not have ten talents, or five, he failed to trade with the one he did have. It's not the inability that God judges you by, but by the indisposition to do what you have. In the light of these two mites let us take heart, and do what dutifulness and gratitude would prompt us to do toward His temple, knowing that it is a small thing that we should be judged by any man's judgment, but that He that judges us is the Lord. And, again, our Lord's decision teaches us, in fact, seems to be the main inference to be drawn from the subject, that the rule with regard to liberality is proportion. These men gave "much" (much when the amount was considered, much according to their own opinion and their admirers); yet, was it much relatively? much compared with what others gave whose means were unspeakably less? What self-denial was there connected with it? "Charity," an old commentator remarks to these words of our text, "is to be judged of, not by what is given, but by what is left." These men gave of their abundance. They never felt it. True benevolence feels it. The widow did feel it; and many, I take it, among us feel it in the sacrifice of self-decoration, self-gratification, when they put their contribution into the plate in regular service, and occasionally a special donation, as on the Day of Humiliation and Prayer and Church Anniversary. That is the right kind of benevolence that feels it; those are the coins that count in God's treasury which have, as they ring in the basket, a piece of ourselves attached to them, stand for self-denial; that gives them their highest value,--not merely the 1, 5, or 10 stamped upon them. Let each of the assembly here worshiping examine himself accordingly. There is no law in the case. Christianity does not tax, coerce, dictate how much in exact proportion to your income and means you ought to give. It is not for you to tell me how much I am to do for God and Church, nor for me to tell you. That is my business and yours, left to us individually. Only this are we to observe: All are expected to give, and all who are really touched with the Spirit of Christ and true religion give and will give, and it is for them to give in proportion as God has blessed them. Giving is a thing of character, which, like every other, must grow little by little, more by more, until through diligent practice and repeated acts it becomes a habit. To give once in a while, impulsively, as one is moved by this or that plea, is good enough, but far more fruitful and blessed is systematic giving, however small the amount be at a time. The plan which has God's authority, and which has borne the most encouraging results, is the one which St. Paul has laid down in 1 Cor. 16: "On the first day of the week," on Sunday, when men's thoughts are turned from earth to heaven, from the things of this world to the next, when God's unspeakable gift is brought to our mind and our duties to the good Lord, then "let every one of you lay by him in store as the Lord hath prospered him." To aid you in doing that, the system of envelopes has been introduced. The idea has never been to burden any one, to tax any one, or to prescribe to any one, but to present an easy and secure method for collecting what each one, in conscience and calmness, might consider his or her proper gift to the Lord and His treasury. The very boxes bear that name, "The Lord's Treasury," and I hope that each time as you scan the words you will think of the "widow's mites." Nor do we have any reason to be dissatisfied with results. The waters that flow down the great Niagara with such rush and roar, and then sweep onward in deep majesty to the ocean are formed by countless brooks and rills and trickling streamlets and melting snows and little raindrops, and so the results that have all wrought for our congregation, and the amount upon which it is still largely dependent, comes from the small contributions of our members, regularly and systematically given. In view of the fact that a large indebtedness rests upon us, I feel warranted to bring this matter before you in the pulpit, asking for a faithful continuation of the plan. "The widow's two mites"--what grand services they have accomplished, what an immense harvest of good they have brought forth to the whole world. Remembering how His all-seeing eye still scans the church receptacle, let us not allow selfishness, avarice, and a carnal greed to hinder what conscience dictates; rather let us strive to secure this commendation which this poor widow received, and be blessed in our deeds. Amen. HUMILIATION AND PRAYER SUNDAY. TEKEL: Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.--_Dan. 5, 27_. The words of our text connect with an account of Old Testament story which, if once heard, is never forgotten. The place was Babylon, a city so vast in extent that after its capture it was three days before the fact was known all over it. The scene was in the royal palace, a marvelous structure within the walls of which were the famous "hanging gardens," which the world has agreed to number among its "seven great wonders." There, in the most sumptuous of all his banquet halls, at a table groaning with the burdens of massive plate and the rarest and richest of viands and wines, reclined the proud and voluptuous King of Babylon, Belshazzar. Around him reclined a thousand of his lords and the fairest women of his harem. A more magnificent banquet was never given or enjoyed. Golden lamps, suspended from a ceiling, paneled with ivory and pearl, shed soft luster on walls pillared with statues, on a floor paved with alabaster, and carpeted with richest rugs from the looms of India, on couches mounted with silver and cushioned with velvet, on illustrious princes, gorgeous costumes, in the most bewildering splendor, whilst over it all floated the sweet strains of music and song. Every heart in that glittering company was wild with delight. No one seemed troubled with care. In the midst of the feasting an impious deed suggests itself to the king's mind. Calling a servant, he orders him to bring the golden and silver vessels which his grandfather, Nebuchadnezzar, had carried away from God's altar in Jerusalem. They were brought and placed before him in a glittering row. They had been consecrated to the service of God centuries before, and had never been put to any common use. For any man to use them, unless he were a heavenly-appointed priest serving at the altar of Jehovah, would be sacrilege of the most damning kind, Belshazzar knew that, but he was resolved to insult Jehovah in the presence of that great company, and so, at his command, those consecrated vessels were filled with intoxicating drink, and he and his princes, and his wives and his concubines, drank from them, amid profane jests and ridicule, to the health of the god of Babylon, whose images of gold, silver, brass, and stone adorned the hall where the wild revel was held. Suddenly a cry of agony is heard. There sat Belshazzar, pale as marble, pointing to an object on the wall. With horror unutterable they look and see the fingers of a human hand slowly tracing a style across the wall,--that was all that was visible. The pen and hand vanished, and nothing remained but the writing. At that the banqueters stared, transfixed with speechless terror. No one in that drunken crowd was able to read it, until Daniel, the Lord's prophet, was summoned. This was the inscription: "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin." The prophet gave their hidden meaning: "Mene: God has numbered thy kingdom and finished it. Tekel: Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting. Upharsin: Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and Persians." And so it was. That very night, by an underground channel, Darius the Mede entered the city of Babylon, and Belshazzar was hewn to pieces. And is there nothing in this piece of ancient history, transferred to God's Book and interpreted by God's prophet, that has value and application to us? Is not everything that we find recorded in the Scripture written for our learning, our warning? Those four words, and particularly, the one chosen for our immediate devotion, "Tekel," has it no spiritual warning for us? We have met this morning for that very purpose--to weigh ourselves. Fifty-two Sundays--another year of grace has come and has departed in the church calendar--we are invited to solemn retrospect and thoughtful review, to consider what report we have to make. Let us, then, honestly and conscientiously, address ourselves to it on the basis of the text, and may God's Holy Spirit touch your hearts and solemnize your minds! "Tekel: Thou art weighed in the balances." We all know what a balance is, a pair of scales. The beam is suspended exactly in the middle. The two arms are equal, and supplied with a pan, not to differ by a hair's thickness. If equal weights are placed in the two pans, the beam rests perfectly level. Such is God's balance. It is sensitive to the last degree. It weighs men's acts; it weighs men's words; it weighs men's thoughts; it weighs men's characters. It weighs them accurately, and every weight is set down in the book of divine memory. At the judgment on that Great Day that book will be opened, and every one shall be judged out of those things which are written in the book, according to their works. Ask you me the name of God's balances, I answer: Justice,--that's God's balance. But in weighing there are two scales. On the one pan is placed that which is weighed, and in the other that against which it is weighed, the standard, the weight. And so God, in weighing man, uses weights which have been tested by a perfect standard. Conscience is such a weight, that "still, small voice" which speaks to you out of your own soul, that forceful monitor in your breast, that weighs against your acts and words and thoughts, excusing or else accusing you, from whose troubling thoughts you cannot escape, and which, as the saying is, makes cowards of us all. Conscience--that's one. Another, heavier than the first--for it is made out of stone--we recognize at once: God's Ten Commandments, a holy standard. "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," reads the first line, and we know that means that an idolater is not he alone who bows down to rocks and stones; whosoever worships self in greed or manner, or bestows supreme regard for anything short of the true and only God, sets up an idol and is an idolater. And so he is not the only murderer, according to the sense and spirit of these tables, who has killed a fellow-mortal, but he already that hateth his brother, that indulges the malicious feeling, the revengeful desire. Nor is he the only lewd man who has given himself to lewdness, but according to this sixth line on that measure, the impure thought, the sensual look, and the cherished unchaste hope already fix the guilt of adultery. We observe, then, it is an exact weight, and so if all that a man has thought and said and done is up to the standard, the beam hangs level, and the divine face of the weigher is wreathed with smiles. If not, the Judge frowns, and from His lips issues the verdict: "Wanting!" The third weight that God employs when He wishes to learn the avoirdupois of your soul is opportunity. Into one scale He puts the man's character and life; into the other He puts all the opportunities which he has enjoyed for getting and doing good. That includes such things as these: godly parents, godly example, a Christian school, Confirmation, the preaching of the true and pure Gospel, the faithful ministry of the Word and Sacraments. It includes bereavements, disappointments, startling events of Providence, losses of health, fortune, family, all of which were to direct you nearer to God. It includes every example of holy living which you have witnessed, every occasion presented you to glorify your Master and bless your fellow-men. All these and such like opportunities, impulses, and impressions to move the soul and bring it into saving harmony with God, make up the sum of his opportunities, and if the weight of what the man has done and is, equals the sum of all these opportunities, it is well; if otherwise, God's scale goes up, and the sentence is: "Wanting!" And one more weight must be named. We shall not dwell lengthily upon it, for we can all see it so conveniently. It lies before me. Let us take it and put it into the pan of the scales--the Bible; as your Savior says: "Ye have Moses and the prophets,--ye have the Evangelists and Apostles,--hear ye them." That is your standard, your measure, placed against you; by its precepts you shall be weighed. And now let us proceed to put something into the other side of the scale to counterbalance, and watch the result. Let us judge in the light of conscience, God's Law, our opportunities, and the Lord's Bible, our beloved congregation. They tell us that knowledge of one's self is one of the hardest and most unpleasant attainments, but the most needful and most salutary for all that. Weighing ourselves, what report have these fifty-two Sundays to give of our congregation as a whole and of you, my dear member, as an individual? How has it been with the worship, the attendance at services? Nothing to boast of, in most cases something to be ashamed of. Some are hovering near the verge of church discipline for their laxity and deficiency; particularly does this pertain to the male portion of the flock. "Thou shalt sanctify the holyday," reads the third and unalterable command of their God, yet months pass at a time, and their face appears not in the assembly of the worshipers. But for the visitors and strangers, especially at the evening services, these pews would be deplorably depleted. Others come with a commendable degree of regularity, but is there participation in the services and punctuality in arriving? Do not the hymns drag along at times so dull and spiritless because many never open their lips? How listless and devotionless the hearers betimes appear, their eyes roaming about elsewhere, and even closing in sleep. Remember every attendance is weighed in the balance. Occasions when every member ought to regard it a loss to be absent, like Pentecost, Reformation, Easter, Church Dedication, little increase in the audience is noted. Announce a particular topic for the following Sunday, and it would seem as if some deliberately stay away. O what a poor thing it must appear in the case of the average Christian, of the most of us! Is it much different--to take up another point--with our partaking of the Lord's Supper? What drudgery, what shrinking and hesitancy with regard to the sacred feast! The Lord says: "This do, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of Me." Paul the Apostle directs: "As oft as ye eat this bread and drink this cup." Luther, in his preface to the Small Catechism, thus interprets this "oft:" "If a person does not seek nor desire the Lord's Supper at least some four times a year, it is to be feared that he despises the Sacrament, and is not a Christian." Weighed in this balance, what shall we say of our Communion Table? How many times have you gone in these twelve months, these fifty-two Sundays? Observe the handwriting on the wall! Read those letters: "Wanting," and ask yourself, Does that mean me? But permit me to pass briefly to an examination of your hearts and your homes. Have you grown in grace and in the knowledge of your Lord and Savior? Do the fruits of your discipleship abound in greater liberality and activity? Do you read God's Word at home, say grace at table, have family devotion? Are you increasingly imbibing and personifying the temper of your religion in the control of your passion, in the subduing of your pride, in the cultivating of a forgiving spirit? Do you pray thoughtfully, regularly, cheerfully? For you to live--is it Christ? As you grow in age, do you grow in heavenly-mindedness, draw closer to your God? To serve the Lord, to speak for Him, is this your delight? I need not press these inquiries. With each one of you the scale takes an upward turn, and I hear you saying with sighing of heart: "Enter not into judgment with Thy servant, O Lord," for this servant is wanting, _wanting_. And what is to be done, with the scales always rising higher and higher and striking the very beam? First of all, repent; learn to understand and acknowledge your dismal condition. That was the fault with Belshazzar--his security and vain confidence; as God said to him through Daniel: "O Belshazzar, thou hast not humbled thine heart, but hast lifted up thyself against the Lord of heaven." Therefore, in the dust with thee! Let ours be the publican's cry: "God be merciful to me, a sinner!" "If Thou, O Lord, shouldst mark iniquity, O Lord, who shall stand?" With the balances suspended, God's Law, God's Bible, conscience, against us, repentance, conviction and confession of sin, is the first thing required of you. But that alone would lead to despair. Dear hearer, observe the scales as they are held by the stern and just hand of divine Justice, the one down, the other with man's soul, asking for mercy. Behold, another hand appears. It is a soft, delicate hand; in its palm is a wound, from that wound there oozes out a drop of blood upon the weighed and wanting soul. Instantly the scales go down, till the beam hands are evenly poised, and a voice is heard: "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." Faith in that blood, belief in Christ Jesus, your Savior, is the next thing necessary. And the last is renewed consecration, earnest, honest resolve with God's help to do better, firm determination that the incoming year of grace shall be characterized by a brightening of faith, an advance in holiness, a progress in all lines that grace a follower of Christ, that it find you at its close a more intelligent, a more humble, a more sanctified Christian than to-day. Beloved, cast another look at the handwriting on the wall, lest it be written against you on the day of Judgment. Repent, believe in Christ, amend--in this may God help us! Amen. REFORMATION. His foundation is in the holy mountains. The Lord loveth the gates of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob. Glorious things are spoken of thee, O city of God. Selah.--_Ps. 87, 1-3._ The history of the Christian Church may be expressed in three words--Formation, Deformation, and Reformation. The first period begins with the story of the shepherds on Bethlehem's plains on Christmas night 1912 years ago, and ended with the establishment of the Church in cultured Europe and Asia and Africa. As we pass the main occurrences of that first epoch of its formation, before our mind's eye, we see how the infant cause of Christ spreads from Jerusalem round about to the surrounding countries, conquering and to conquer. See how in her course of advancement she meets with opposition the fiercest and bloodiest; see how the blood of her children wets the sands of the amphitheater, and how their bones are crushed by the lions and wild animals of the arena, whilst the ashes of thousands of others strew the funeral pile upon which they died praying, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." Those were the days of persecution, when the church was despised and rejected of men. And yet, in the indestructibility of her life she overcame that opposition. Yea, as one said, "the very blood of the martyrs was the seed grain of her progress." Before the preaching of Christ fadeth the glories of heathenism, and where once stood in splendid magnificence the pagan temples of heathenish paganism was placed in its simple and sublime beauty the cross. The Galilean, the Carpenter's Son, God's Son, had conquered. The Church, in a word, had been established. And then the view changes. A new period begins. Across the face of this period there is written in all directions one word. That word is _Rome_. It is Rome at the altar swinging the censer, Rome on the battlefield wielding the sword; it is Rome in the councils of kings, and Rome in the judge's seat; it is Rome in the professor's chair, and Rome in the children's nursery; it is Rome in the market stall telling what to sell, and Rome in the kitchen telling people what to eat and drink. It is Rome first, last, and all the time. At Rome, styled the Holy City, the Mistress of the World, sat a triple-crowned dictator. Princes kissed his feet, and held the stirrups for him as he mounted his bediamoned horse. An emperor stands barefoot in the snow of his courtyard suing for forgiveness because he had dared to govern without his sanction, whilst his clergy, monks without number, swarmed in every place, all sworn to stand by him on peril of salvation, and themselves guarded from all reach of law for any crime they may commit. Gigantic, powerful, proud, wicked and wanton, haughty Rome, drunk with shocking abomination! That is the second period, the era of deformation. Once more the view changes: Antichrist--for none else is the pope--is assailed by a poor, unknown monk in far-away Saxony. "Who minds a monk? 'Tis nothing." But, lo, the monk towers like a giant, and German princes are by his side, while a nation hangs on his lips. Tidings of great joy, like once from Bethlehem's plains, are again spreading from the little town of Wittenberg on the banks of the Elbe. Ninety-five theses nailed up by that monk against the church-door on the eve of October 31, 1517, are borne on the wings of the wind. How they talk about them in London, now in Copenhagen, now in the streets of Jerusalem. Men, women, youths, fearlessly give the lie to the priest whom they had dreaded too much before. Rome startled; she would use her old force. She would suppress the new teaching, which was nothing but the old truth repeated again. Of no avail! "She's judged. The deed is done." The Lord has smitten Antichrist with the breath of His mouth. The world is enjoying once more the pure and abundant Gospel preaching. A new life is upon the nations. The Church has entered upon another epoch. We call it the period of the Reformation. It is the topic of our concern and gathering to-day. And in order that we may duly grasp its meaning and appreciate its blessing, let us observe, on the basis of our text, _The glory of the Lutheran Reformation and Church_. That glory is threefold: _I. a glory of foundation_; _II. a glory of possession_; _III. a glory of prospect_. And may God help us understand and appreciate! First, a glory of _foundation_. The psalmist, referring to the Old Testament Church, speaks of its foundation. So, too, the New Testament Church has its foundation. "Other foundation can no man lay," writes the Apostle, "than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ," the Son of God, God Himself. The work of redemption which He came into this world to perform is the foundation of our religion, our Church. What our children learn from their Catechism: "I believe that Jesus Christ, true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, and also true man, born of the Virgin Mary, is my Lord, who has redeemed me, a lost and condemned creature, purchased and won me from all sins, from death and from the power of the devil,"--that is the heart and marrow of our faith, its foundation. This was the point Luther made in those ninety-five theses and in all the teachings, preaching, and writing that he did ever afterwards. But does not the Church of Rome believe that too? My dear hearer, accompany me in spirit to one of their places of worship. It matters not in what direction we go, they are plentiful everywhere. We enter. Our Protestant eye looks for the Savior. Thank God He is still there. But what means that statue at His side--whose is it? Francis De Sales, St. Anthony of Padua, St. Vincent, St. Anna, St. Elizabeth. Have they forgotten the First Commandment which says: "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness to bow thyself down to them"? We look upon the assembled worshipers. What is it that they are holding in their hands, busily twisting the beads while their lips move in devotion? "Hail, Mary," they pray, "mother of God, queen of heaven." Why not Christ?--for there is only one Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus. As we stand there in observation amid the striking of little gongs, there enters, gorgeously arrayed, a priest. "Why a priest?" We, in the New Testament, according to the Bible, know of only one Priest, and that is He of whom the Apostle says: "Such an High Priest became us who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners." What does the priest do? He is offering sacrifice, in an unbloody manner, for the sins of the people. They call it "mass." But does not the Bible teach that "by one sacrifice," _viz._, by His sacrifice upon Golgotha, "Christ hath forever perfected them that are sanctified"? Why, then, this mass? Do they think they can, as they claim, improve upon, perfect, that propitiatory sacrifice? Or, while we are en route, let us transfer ourselves in spirit a little further; let us go for a few moments to Rome. There sits a man whom they style "Holy Father." God's Word says: "Ye shall call no man in religion your father nor master upon earth. One is your Father," even He who is in heaven. "One is your Master--" Christ. This man at Rome claims that he is the vicar of Christ upon earth, with power to rule both the Church and the world. But, says Christ, "My kingdom is not of this world," and I, even I, am its only Head. And not only so, but in how many innumerable ways does this man at Rome contradict Christ! Thus: Christ, through His Spirit, says: A bishop, a minister, ought to be the "husband of one wife." "The husband of no wife," contradicts the pope. "It is a great wrong for a priest to marry." "Abstaining from meats," forbidding people to eat what they choose and at any time they choose, is "a doctrine of the devil," says Christ through His Spirit. "It is a sin to eat meat on Friday and throughout Lent," says the pope. "You must diligently pray and liberally pay, and then shall the souls of your beloved ones come out of purgatory." There is no such place, is the teaching of Christ, for instance, when He spoke to the thief on the cross: "To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." "I have redeemed you with my holy, precious blood and with my innocent suffering and death." Let your only hope and constant prayer be: Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness My beauty are, my glorious dress. 'Midst flaming worlds, in these arrayed, With joy shall I lift up my head. "Not so," says the pope. "Heaven and salvation do not depend only upon what Christ has done, but much depends upon what _you_ have done." "If any one saith," so reads the decree of Rome, "that we are justified, saved, by faith alone, let him be anathema--cursed." Your good works must help along. It is only as you do _this_ and give _that_, buy indulgences, pay for some holy candles, appropriate of your earnings an adequate amount to the Church, remember it in your last will and testament, and set apart a certain sum for the reading of mass,--it is only thus that you can expect to die in peace and your soul find its way to heaven. Now, beloved, we leave it to the smallest child--is this making Christ the foundation? And it was against this that Luther protested in the ninety-five theses which he nailed up 395 years ago; and it is against this that we would raise our voices and pen. Jesus Christ and His work of redemption--He shall be our foundation. "Ave Marias?" No! Saints and popes? No! All hail the power of Jesus' name, Let angels prostrate fall. Bring forth the royal diadem And crown Him Lord of all. Again, our Church not only glories in its foundation, but likewise in its _possessions_. And what does it possess? Look upon the imposing churches and cathedrals of Rome, those stupendous hospitals and institutions of one kind and another. What wealth of property, what revenues and revenues of silver and gold! Who will dispute that Rome is rich, possesses much? But since when are silver and gold and splendid edifices the marks of the Church? If those things constituted true churchliness, then none would have been more despicable than the early Christians, for they had no churches and worshiped in catacombs and the recesses of darkest forests. If pompous ceremonies and spectacular display and strains of fine music stand for the worship of God, the same might be seen and heard in Jewish temples. Over against this, what possessions does our Church glory in? To mention a few. Open before us lies this holy Book, God's Book, accessible to all, inviting examination and study of its sacred pages, and that in a language not foreign, Latin, Greek, or Hebrew, but intelligible to all its hearers and readers. Rome would not so have it. It forbids its reading, and calls it a dangerous book. It adds to its infallible teachings the traditions of men, and wants all its pages read through the eye-glasses of the pope. It has always been, and still is, to them an "unknown" Book. You have, perchance, already seen the picture, quite familiar, which, beneath the title "Caught," represents an aged man and his little grandchild reading the Bible while some soldiers are seen entering the room to arrest them. The story that connects with it is this: Philip the Second of Spain and the Netherlands had sworn the pope that no Protestant should be allowed to live in his provinces. In a little town in Holland lived a good old man with his grandchild Bertha, who had become believers in the doctrines of the Reformation, and since the Bible was forbidden to be read and everywhere taken from the people, the only time for them to strengthen themselves with its sacred contents was the dead of night. They were just reading the fifth chapter of Matthew, wherein occur the words: "Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven," when a rough knock on the door tells them that the Roman spies had discovered them. "Grandfather," cries the child, "we are caught." "Yes, my child. God's hour seems at hand." And it was. The next moment the axes of the soldiers had battered down the door; the Bible was seized and burned, the aged man and his little granddaughter were hurried off to prison, and were tortured and afterward stretched on the rack until they died amid horrible pain. That is Rome's attitude toward the Bible. Thank God, then, for this blessed possession, a free Bible, which we read everywhere and at all times. Then, too, there is the blessed Sacrament, not in its mutilated shape, the lay people deprived of the cup, but in both species. We possess that. Furthermore, our services. Take those stately and sublime hymns that are the inspiration and comfort of a Protestant Christian. The Romish Church knows them not, the people do not sing at their services. They are deprived of that. Then, when we pray--what a possession, the privilege of free, unlimited, and direct access to God's throne, without the intercession and intervention of priests and patron saints, but according to Christ's invitation and commandment: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Here, then, are a few of the many blessings we glory in, wrought and brought back to us through the Lutheran Reformation, and for which on this day we thank and praise God. And now a few words yet as to the third part mentioned, the glory of _prospect_.--When Luther closed his eyes, our haughty enemies predicted the death of the Lutheran Church. As a Romish priest once said to a Lutheran peasant, "With your Church it will soon be 'Matthaei am letzten,'" that is, Matthew the last, which is a German expression meaning, "Things will soon be at an end with you." The peasant remarked, since he was acquainted with his Bible, "That's splendid!" In Matthew, the last chapter and the last verse, our Savior says: "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Our Church has come to stay, for it is Christ's Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against that. Great in membership, numbering millions of souls, spread throughout every people and nation, her faith proclaimed in nearly every dialect and tongue of earth, great is her prospect. Take it in this land of ours. Men are awakening more and more to an appreciation of her history and progress and power. In this age of unsettling of creeds and of abandonment of time-honored convictions, in the age of sensationalism and of pulpits which have no messages, except those of political and sociological interest, the old Church of the Reformation stands where she ever stood. Mr. Roosevelt remarked while he was President of the United States: "The Lutheran Church is of very great power numerically and through the intelligence and thrift of its members; but it will grow steadily to even greater power. It is destined to be one of the two or three greatest in the United States." If, then, to conclude, any of you have been ashamed of her, apologized for being Lutherans, perchance even been casting their eyes in other directions for church-fellowship, if any of us have not been as loyal as we ought to have been, neglected her glorious possessions, indifferent to the high blessings she affords in Word and Sacrament and services, let him and her reflect and amend. May it be our heartfelt conviction and determination:-- My Church, my Church, my dear old Church! I love her ancient name, And God forbid a child of hers Should ever do her shame. Her mother-care I'll ever share, Her child I am alone, Till He who gave me to her arms Shall call me to His own. Amen. 
58812	----	[Transcriber's Notes: This production was derived from https://archive.org/details/lifeofrevfrancis00hewi/page/n9] {1} Sermons Of The Rev. Francis A. Baker, Priest Of The Congregation Of St. Paul. With A Memoir Of His Life BY Rev. A. F. Hewit. Fourth Edition. New York: Lawrence Kehoe, 145 Nassau Street. 1867. {2} Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1865 By A. F. Hewit, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. {3} PREFACE. ------ In offering the Memoir and Sermons of this volume to the friends of F. Baker, and to the public, propriety requires of me a few words of explanation. The number of those who have been more or less interested in the events touched upon in the sketch of his life and labors is very great, and composed of many different classes of persons in various places, and of more than one religious communion. I cannot suppose that all of them will read these pages, but it is likely that many will; and therefore a word is due to those who are more particularly interested, as well as to the general class of readers. I have to ask the indulgence of all my readers for having interwoven so much of my own history and my own reflections on the topics and events of the period included within the limits of the narrative. They have woven themselves in spontaneously, without any intention on my part, and on account of the close connexion between myself and the one whose career I have been describing; and I have been unable to unravel them from the texture of the narrative without breaking its threads. {4} I have simply transferred to paper that picture of the past, long forgotten amid the occupations of an active life, which came up again, unbidden and with great vividness, before the eye of memory, during the hours while the remains of my brother and dearest friend lay robed in violet, waiting for the last solemn rites of the requiem to be fulfilled. If I have succeeded, I cannot but think that the picture will have something of the same interest for others that it has for myself. Those who knew and loved the original, will, I hope, prize it for his sake; and their own recollections will diffuse the coloring and animation of life over that which in itself is but a pale and indistinct sketch. For their sakes chiefly I have prepared it, so far as the mere personal motive of perpetuating the memory of a revered and beloved individual is concerned. But I have had a higher motive as my chief reason for undertaking the task: a desire to promote the glory of God, by preserving and extending the memory of the graces and virtues with which He adorned one of His most faithful children. I have wished to place before the world the example of one of the most signal conversions to the Catholic faith which has taken place in our country, as a lesson to all to imitate the pure and disinterested devotion to truth and conscience which it presents to them. Let me not be misunderstood. I do not present the example of his conversion, or that of the great number of persons of similar character who have embraced the Catholic religion, as a proof sufficient by itself of the truth of that religion. {5} I propose it as a specimen of many instances in which the power of the Catholic religion to draw intelligent minds and upright hearts to itself, and to inspire them with a pure and noble spirit of self-sacrifice in the cause of God and humanity, is exhibited. This is surely a sufficient motive for examining carefully the reasons and evidences on which their submission to the Church was grounded; and an incentive to seek for the truth, with an equally sincere intention to embrace it, at whatever cost or struggle it may demand. It may appear to the casual reader that I have drawn in this narrative an ideal portrait which exaggerates the reality. I do not think I have done so; and I believe the most competent judges will attest my strict fidelity to the truth of nature. If I have represented my subject as a most perfect and beautiful character, the model of a man, a Christian, and a priest of God, I have not exceeded the sober judgment of the most impartial witnesses. A Protestant Episcopal clergyman, of remarkable honesty and generosity of nature, said of him to a Catholic friend: "You have one perfect man among your converts." Another, a Catholic clergyman, whose coolness of judgment and reticence of praise are remarkable traits in his character, said, on hearing of his decease: "The best priest in New York is dead." I have no doubt that more than one would have been willing to give their own lives in place of his, if he could have been saved by the sacrifice. In narrating events connected with F. Baker's varied career, I have simply related those things of which I have had either personal knowledge, or the evidence furnished by his own correspondence with a very dear friend, aided by the information which that friend has furnished me. {6} I have to thank this very kind and valued friend, the Rev. Dwight E. Lyman, for the aid he has given me in this way, which has increased so much the completeness and interest of the Memoir. I am also indebted to another, still dearer to the departed, for information concerning his early history and family. I trust that those readers who are not members of the Catholic communion, especially such as have been the friends of the subject and the author of this memoir, will find nothing here to jar unnecessarily upon their sentiments and feelings. Fidelity to the deceased has required me not to conceal his conviction of the exclusive truth and authority of the doctrine and communion of the holy, Catholic, Apostolic, Roman Church. The same fidelity would prevent me, if my own principles did not do so, from mixing up with religious questions any thing savoring of personal arrogance, or directed to the vindication of private feelings, and retaliation upon individuals with whom religious conflicts have brought us into collision. I wish those who still retain their friendship for the dead, and whose minds will recur with interest to scenes of this narrative, in which they were concerned with him, to be assured of that lasting sentiment of regard which he carried with him to the grave, and which survives in the heart of the writer of these lines. {7} In the history of F. Baker's missionary career, I have endeavored to select from the materials on hand such portions of the details of particular missions as would make the nature of the work in which he was engaged intelligible to all classes of readers, without making the narrative too tedious and monotonous. I have wished to present all the diverse aspects and all the salient points of his missionary life, and to give as varied and miscellaneous a collection of specimens from its records as possible. From the necessity of the case, only a small number of missions could be particularly noticed. Those which have been passed by have not been slighted, however, as less worthy of notice than the others, but omitted from the necessity of selecting those most convenient for illustration of the theme in hand. The statistics given, in regard to numbers, etc., in the history of our missions, have all been taken from records carefully made at the time, and based on an exact enumeration of the communions given. I trust this volume will renew and keep alive in the minds of those who took part in these holy scenes, and who hung on the lips of the eloquent preacher of God's word whose life and doctrine are contained in it, the memory of the holy lessons of teaching and example by which he sought to lead them to heaven. Of the sermons contained in this volume, seventeen have been reprinted from the four volumes of "Sermons by the Paulists, 1861-64;" and twelve published from MSS. Four of these are mission sermons, selected from the complete series, as the most suitable specimens of this species of discourse. The others are parochial sermons, preached in the parish church of St. Paul the Apostle, New York. {8} There still remain a considerable number of sermons, more or less complete; but the confused and illegible state in which F. Baker left his MSS. has made the task of reading and copying them very laborious, and prevented any larger number from being prepared for publication at the present time. I leave these Sermons, with the Memoir of their author, to find their own way to those minds and hearts which are prepared to receive them, and to do the good for which they are destined by the providence of God. May we all have the grace to imitate that high standard of Christian virtue which they set before us, as true disciples of Jesus Christ our Lord! A. F. H. St. Paul's Church, Fifty-ninth Street, Advent, 1865. {9} CONTENTS PAGE Memoir. 13 SERMON: I. The Necessity of Salvation (Mission Sermon) 209 II. Mortal Sin (Mission Sermon) 226 III. The Particular Judgement (Mission Sermon) 239 IV. Heaven (Mission Sermon) 252 V. The Duty of Growing in Christian Knowledge (First Sunday in Advent) 263 VI. The Mission of St. John the Baptist (Second Sunday in Advent) 271 VII. God's Desire to be Loved (Christmas Day) 282 VIII. The Failure and Success of the Gospel (Sexagesima) 292 IX. The Work of Life (Septuagesima) 303 X. The Church's Admonition to the Individual Soul (Ash-Wednesday) 312 XI. The Negligent Christian (Third Sunday in Lent) 320 XII. The Cross, the Measure of Sin (Passion Sunday) 329 XIII. Divine Calls and Warnings (Lent) 340 XIV. The Tomb of Christ, the School of Comfort (Easter Sunday) 352 XV. St. Mary Magdalene at the Sepulchre (Easter Sunday) 360 XVI. The Preacher, the Organ of the Holy Ghost (Fourth Sunday after Easter) 370 XVII. The Two Wills in Man (Fourth Sunday after Easter) 380 XVIII. The Intercession of the Blessed Virgin the Highest Power of Prayer (Sunday within the Octave of the Ascension) 391 XIX. Mysteries in Religion (Trinity Sunday) 399 XX. The Worth of the Soul (Third Sunday after Pentecost) 408 XXI. The Catholic's Certitude concerning the Way of Salvation (Fifth Sunday after Pentecost) 418 {10} XXII. The Presence of God (Fifth Sunday after Pentecost) 429 XXIII. Keeping the Law not Impossible (Ninth Sunday after Pentecost) 437 XXIV. The Spirit of Sacrifice (Feast of St. Laurence) 447 XXV. Mary's Destiny a Type of Ours (Assumption) 456 XXVI. Care for the Dead (Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost) 465 XXVII. Success the Reward of Merit (Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost) 475 XXVIII. The Mass the Highest Worship (Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost) 484 XXIX. The Lessons of Autumn (Last Sunday after Pentecost) 493 {11} MEMOIR. {12} {13} Memoir. Francis A. Baker was born in Baltimore, March 30, 1820. The name given him in baptism was Francis Asbury, after the Methodist bishop of that name; but when he became a Catholic he changed it to Francis Aloysius, in honor of St. Francis de Sales and St. Aloysius, to both of whom he had a special devotion, and both of whom he resembled in many striking points of character. He was of mixed German and English descent, and combined the characteristics of both races in his temperament of mind and body. He had also some of the Irish and older American blood in his veins. His paternal grandfather, William Baker, emigrated from Germany at an early age to Baltimore, where he married a young lady of Irish origin, and became a wealthy merchant. His maternal grandfather, the Rev. John Dickens, was an Englishman, a Methodist preacher, who resided chiefly in Philadelphia. His grandmother was a native of Georgia. During the great yellow-fever epidemic in Philadelphia, Mr. Dickens remained at his post, and his wife fell a victim to the disease, with her eldest daughter. His father was Dr. Samuel Baker, of Baltimore, and his mother, Miss Sarah Dickens. Dr. Baker was an eminent physician and medical lecturer, holding the honorable positions of Professor of Materia Medica in the University of Maryland, and President of the Baltimore Medico-Chirurgical Society. {14} There was a striking similarity in the character of Dr. Baker and his son Francis. The writer of an obituary notice of the father, in the _Baltimore Athenæum_, tells us that his early preceptors admired "the balance of the faculties of his mind," and that "his classmates were attached to him for his integrity and affectionate manners." In another passage, the same writer would seem to be describing Francis Baker, to those who knew him alone, and have never seen the original of the sketch. "The style of conversation with which Dr. Baker interested his friends, his patients, or the stranger, was marked with an unaffected simplicity. Even when he was most fluent and communicative, no one could suspect him of an ambition to shine. He spoke to give utterance to pleasing and useful thoughts on science, religion, and general topics, _as if his chief enjoyment was to diffuse the charms of his own tranquillity_. In social intercourse, his dignity was the natural attitude of his virtue. On the part of the trifling it required but little discernment to perceive the tacit warning that vulgar familiarity would find nothing congenial in him. He never engrossed conversation, and seemed always desirous of obtaining information by eliciting it from others. Whether he listened or spoke, his countenance, receiving impressions readily from his mind, was an expressive index of the tone of his various emotions and thoughts. The conduct of Dr. Baker as a physician, a Christian, and a citizen, was a mirror, reflecting the beautiful image of goodness in so distinct a form as to leave none to hesitate about the sincerity and purity of his feelings. It therefore constantly reminded many of 'the wisdom that is from above, which is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy.' The friendly sympathy and anxiety which he evinced in the presence of human suffering attached all classes of his patients to him, and he was very happy in his benevolent tact at winning the affection of children, even in their sickness." {15} Dr. Baker was a member of the Methodist Church, and an intimate friend of the celebrated and eloquent preacher Summerfield. He was not one, however, of the enthusiastic sort, but sober, quiet, and reserved. He never went through any period of religious excitement himself, or endeavored to practise on the susceptibilities of his children. He said of himself, as one of his intimate friends testifies, "that he did not know the period when he became religious, so gradually was his life regulated by the spiritual truths which enlightened his mind from childhood." He had no hostile feelings toward the Catholic Church, and was a great admirer and warm friend of the Sisters of Charity, many of whom I have heard frequently speak of him in terms of the most affectionate respect. His benevolence toward the poor was unbounded, and he was in fact endeared to all classes of the community, without exception, in Baltimore. Francis Baker had a very great respect for his father, and was very fond of talking of him to me, during the first period of our acquaintance, when his early recollections were fresh and recent in his mind. Of his mother he had but a faint remembrance, having been deprived of her at the age of seven years. It is easy to judge of her character, however, from that of her children, and of her sister, who was a mother to her orphans from the time of her death until her own life was ended among them. Mrs. Baker's brother, the Hon. Asbury Dickens, is well known as having been for nearly half a century the Secretary of the Senate of the United States, which position he held until his death, which occurred at an advanced age a few years since. Dr. Baker had four sons and two daughters. Only one of them, Dr. William George Baker, ever married, and he died without children: so that Dr. Samuel Baker left not a single grandchild after him to perpetuate his name or family--and of his children, one daughter only survives. {16} Three of his sons were physicians of great promise, which they did not live to fulfil. Francis was his third son, and the one who most resembled him in character. Of his boyhood I know little, except that his companions at school who grew up to manhood, and preserved their acquaintance with him, were extremely attached to him. One of them passed an evening and night in our house, as the guest of F. Baker, but a few months before his death, with great pleasure to both. I have also heard some of the good Sisters of Charity speak of having known the little Frank Baker as a boy, and mention the fact that he was very fond of visiting them. I am sure that his childhood was an extremely happy one until the period of his father's death. This event took place in October, 1835, when Francis was in his sixteenth year, and in the fiftieth year of Dr. Baker's life. It was very sudden and unexpected, and threw a shadow of grief and sadness over the future of his children, which was deepened by the subsequent untimely decease of the two eldest sons, Samuel and William. Francis was entered at Princeton College soon after his father's death, and graduated there with the class of 1839. I am not aware that his college life had any remarkable incidents. He was not ambitious of distinguishing himself, or inclined to apply himself to very severe study. I believe, however, that his standing was respectable, and his conduct regular and exemplary. He was not decidedly religious in his early youth. Methodism had no attraction for him, and the Calvinistic preaching at Princeton was repugnant to his reason and feelings. Whatever religious impressions he had in childhood were chiefly those produced by the Catholic Church, whose services he was fond of attending; but these were not deep or lasting. The early death of his father, and the consequent responsibility and care thrown upon him as the male head of the family, first caused him to reflect deeply, and to seek for some decided religious rule of his own life and conduct, and finally led him to join the Protestant Episcopal communion, and to resolve to prepare himself for the ministry. {17} All the members of his family joined the same communion, and were baptized with him, in St. Paul's Church, by the rector of the parish, Dr. Wyatt. This event took place in 1841, or '42. Soon afterward, Mr. Baker formed an acquaintance with a young man, a candidate for orders and an inmate of the family of Dr. Whittingham, the Bishop of Maryland, which was destined to ripen into a most endearing and life-long friendship, and to have a most important influence on his subsequent history. This gentleman was Dwight Edwards Lyman, a son of the Rev. Dr. Lyman a respectable Presbyterian minister, of the same age with Francis Baker, and an ardent disciple of the school of John Henry Newman. At the time of his baptism, Mr. Baker was only acquainted with church principles as they were taught by Dr. Wyatt, who was an old-fashioned High Churchman. The intercourse which he had with Mr. Lyman was the principal occasion of introducing him to an acquaintance with the Oxford movement, into which he very soon entered with his whole mind and heart. In 1842, Mr. Lyman was sent to St. James's College, near Hagerstown, where he remained several years, receiving orders in the interval. During this time, Mr. Baker kept up a frequent and most confidential correspondence with him, which is full of liveliness and humor in its earlier stages, but becomes more grave and serious as both advanced nearer to the time of their ordination. It continued during the entire period of their ministry in the Episcopal Church, and during the whole subsequent life of Mr. Baker, closing with a very playful letter written by the latter, a few days before his last illness. In one of these letters, he acknowledges his obligations to Mr. Lyman as the principal instrument of making him acquainted with Catholic principles, in these warm and affectionate words: "I do not know whether you are aware of the advantage I derived from you in the earlier part of our acquaintance, by reason of your greater familiarity with the Catholic system as exhibited in the _Anglican_ Church. {18} The influence you exerted was of a kind of which I can hardly suppose you to have been conscious; yet I am sure you will be gratified to think it was effectual, as I believe, to fix me more firmly in the system for which I had long entertained so profound a reverence and affection. These are benefits which I cannot forget, and which (if there were not other reasons of which I need not speak) must always keep a place for you in the heart of your unworthy friend." The nature of the later correspondence between these two friends, and their mutual influence on each other, will appear later in this narrative. There are friendships which are formed in heaven, and in looking back upon that which grew up between these two young men of congenial spirit, and in which I was also a sharer in a subordinate degree, I cannot but admire the benignant ways of Divine Providence, by which those strands which afterward bound our existence together so closely were first interwoven. I had myself met Mr. Lyman, some years before this, and felt the charm of his glowing and enthusiastic advocacy of principles which were just beginning to germinate in my own mind. Soon after Lyman's removal to Hagerstown, I made the acquaintance of Mr. Baker, a circumstance which the latter mentions in his next letter to his friend in these words, which I trust I may be pardoned for quoting-- "The Bishop's family have a young man staying with them (Mr. H.), a convert to the Church, and one, I believe, of great promise. He was a Congregationalist minister, and Rev. Mr. B. read me a letter from him, dated about a month ago, before his coming into the Church, the tone of which was far more Catholic than that of many (alas!) of those who have been partakers of the holy treasures to be found only in her bosom. Mr. B. tells me that Church principles are silently spreading in the North, among the sects. In this place, I believe that a spirit has been raised which one would hardly imagine on looking at the surface of things, though that is troubled enough." {19} This letter was dated April 22, 1843. I had just arrived in Baltimore, at the invitation of Dr. Whittingham, the Protestant Episcopal Bishop of Maryland, and been received as a candidate for orders in his diocese. Mr. Baker, who was also a candidate for orders, lived just opposite the Bishops's residence, in Courtlandt street, and was pursuing his theological studies in private. I lived in the Bishop's house, and I think I met Mr. Baker there on the first evening of my arrival. We were nearly of the same age, and soon found that our tastes and opinions were very congenial to each other. Of course, I returned his visit very soon, and I became at once very intimate with his family. It was a charming place and a delightful circle. Francis, as the eldest brother, was the head of the house. His aunt, Miss Dickens, fulfilled the office of a mother to her orphaned nephews and nieces with winning grace and gentleness. A younger brother, Alfred, then about eighteen years of age, was at home, pursuing his medical studies. Two sisters completed the number of the family, all bound together in the most devoted and tender love, all alike in that charm of character which is combined from it fervent and genial spirit of religion, amiability of temper, and a high-toned culture of mind and manners, chastened and subdued by trial and sorrow. I must not pass by entirely without mention another inmate of the family, whose good-humored, joyous countenance was always the first to greet me at the door--little Caroline, the last of the family servants, who was manumitted as soon as she arrived at a proper age, always devotedly attached to her young master, and afterward one of the most eager and delighted spectators at his ordination as a Catholic priest. {20} The house was one of those places where every article of furniture and the entire spirit that pervades its arrangement speaks eloquently of the past family history, and recalls the memory of its departed members and departed scenes of domestic happiness. Dr. Baker had left his children a competent but moderate fortune, which was managed with the utmost prudence by Francis, who possessed at twenty-one all the wisdom of a man of fifty. There was nothing of the splendor and luxury of wealth to be seen in the household, but a modest simplicity and propriety, a home-like comfort, and that perfection of order and arrangement, regulated by a pure and exquisite taste, which is far more attractive. Mr. Baker's home was always the mirror of his mind. In later years, when he lived in his own rectory, although his family circle had lost two of its precious links, the same charm pervaded every nook and corner of the home of the survivors, the young and idolized pastor and his two sisters. His study at St. Luke's rectory was the beau ideal of a clergyman's sanctuary of study and prayer, after the Church of England model; with something added, which betokened a more recluse and sacerdotal spirit, and a more Catholic type of devotion. One might have read in it Mr. Baker's character at a glance, and might have divined that the inhabitant of that room was a perfect gentleman, a man of the most pure intellectual tastes, a pastor completely absorbed in the duties of his state, a recluse in his life, and very Catholic in the tendencies and aspirations of his soul. Of Mr. Baker's family, only one sister has survived him. Alfred Baker died first. Like his brother, he was a model of manly beauty, although he did not in the least resemble him in form or feature. Francis Baker, as all who ever saw him know, was remarkably handsome. Those who only knew him after he reached mature age, and remember him only as a priest, will associate with his appearance chiefly that impress of sacerdotal dignity and mildness, of placid, intellectual composure, of purity, nobility, and benignity of character, which was engraven or rather sculptured in his face and attitude. {21} Dressed in the proper costume, he might have been taken as a living study for a Father of the Church, a holy hermit of the desert, or a mediæval bishop. He was cast in an antique and classic mould. There was not a trace of the man of modern times or of the man of the world about him. His countenance and manner in late years also bore traces of the fatiguing, laborious life which he led, and the hard, rough work to which he was devoted. On account of these things, and because he was so completely a priest and a religious, one could scarcely think of admiring him as a man. His portrait was never painted, and the photographs of him which were taken were none of them very successful, and most of them mere caricatures. An ambrotype in profile was taken at Chicago for Mr. Healy the artist, which is admirable, and from this the only good photographs have been taken; but the adequate image of Father Baker, as he appeared at the altar, or when his face was lit up in preaching the Divine word, will live only in the memory of those who knew him. At the period of which I speak, he had just attained the maturity of youthful and manly beauty, which was heightened in its effect by his perfect dignity and grace of manner. His brother Alfred was cast in a slighter mould, and had an almost feminine loveliness of aspect, figure, and character. He was as modest and pure as a young maiden, with far more vivacity of feature and manner than his brother, and a more vivid and playful temperament. There was nothing, however, effeminate in his character or countenance. He was full of talent, high-spirited, generous and chivalrous in his temper, conscientious and blameless in his religious and moral conduct. He graduated at the Catholic College of St. Mary's in Baltimore, and was a great favorite of the late Archbishop Eccleston and several others of the Catholic clergy. His High Church principles had a strong dash of Catholicity in them, and he used often to speak of the "ignominious name, Protestant," which is prefixed to the designation of the Episcopal Church in this country. {22} He was a devoted admirer of Mr. Newman, and followed him, like so many others, to the verge of the Catholic Church, but drew back, startled and perplexed, when he passed over. Two or three years after the time I am describing, he began the practice of his profession, with brilliant prospects. The family removed to a larger and more central residence, for his sake, near St. Paul's Church, where Francis was Assistant Minister. All things seemed to smile and promise fair, but this beautiful bud had a worm in it. A slow and lingering but fatal attack of phthisis seized him, just as he was beginning to succeed in his professional career. His brother accompanied him to Bermuda, but the voyage was rather an additional suffering than a benefit, and on the 9th of April, 1852, he died. It was Good Friday. He had prayed frequently that he might die on that day, and before his departure, he called his brother to him, made a general confession, desired him to pronounce over him the form of absolution prescribed in the English Prayer-Book, and received the communion of the Episcopal Church. These acts were sacramentally valueless, but I trust, without presuming to decide positively on a secret matter which God alone can judge, that his intention was right before God, and his error a mistake of judgment without perversity of will. His brother afterward felt deeply solicitous lest he might have been himself blamable for keeping him in the Episcopal communion, and grieved that he had died out of the visible communion of the Catholic Church. Still, as he was conscious of his own integrity of purpose, he tranquillized his mind with the hope that his brother had died in spiritual communion with the true Church and in the charity of God, and endeavored to aid him, as far as he was still within the reach of human assistance, by having many masses offered for the repose of his soul. Miss Dickens died a little before Alfred, and Elizabeth Baker died some time after her brother became a Catholic, but before his ordination. {23} I return now to the period when Mr. Baker and all these members of his family were living a retired and happy life together in the home on Courtlandt street. I remember this time with peculiar pleasure. Mr. Baker, whom I always called Frank, as he was usually called by his friends, partly from the peculiar affection they felt for him, and also because of its appropriateness as an epithet of his character, went every day with me once or twice to prayers; and every day we walked together. When the peculiar, tinkling bell of old St. Paul's, which will be remembered by many a reader of these pages, gave notice of divine service there, we resorted in company to that venerable and unique church. It was spacious and ecclesiastical, though not regularly beautiful in its architecture. A basso-relievo adorned its architrave, and a bright gilded cross graced its tall tower. It had a handsome altar of white marble, an object of our special pride and devotion, with the usual reading-desk and pulpit rising behind it. The pulpit was a light and graceful structure, surmounted by a canopy which terminated in a cross, and having another cross surrounded by a glory emblazoned on its ceiling, just over the preacher's head. The door was in the rear of the pulpit, which stood far out from the chancel wall, and in the door was a beautiful transparency of the Ecce Homo, lighted from the chancel window, which had an Ailanthus behind it, causing a pleasing illusion in the mind of the beholder that the dirty brick pavement of the court-yard was a pretty rural garden. The chancel was large and imposing. An episcopal chair, surmounted by a mitre, formed one of its conspicuous ornaments, and two seven branched gilded gas-burners stood on the chancel rail, which were lighted at Evening Prayer, or _Vespers_, as we were wont to call it. In this church, the people all knelt with their backs to the altar, and facing the great door, whereat a number of us, being scandalized, determined to face about on all occasions and kneel toward the altar, which we did rigidly and in the most impressive manner, to the great annoyance of the rector, Dr. Wyatt. {24} The _tout ensemble_ of St. Paul's Church, especially in the dusk of evening, when the lamps were lit, was to a hasty glance quite that of a Catholic church. Catholics very frequently came in by mistake, and sometimes poor people knelt in the aisles and began saying their prayers. Others inquired of the sexton at the door if it was a Catholic church, and some persons occupying seats near the door, who frequently heard his negative response and his direction to the Cathedral, were led in consequence to think, that if St. Paul's were not a Catholic church, they too had best follow the sexton's direction and go to the Cathedral. Besides the prayers on saints' days, Wednesdays, and Fridays, at St. Paul's, there was a week-day communion service once a month. Dr. Wyatt and his congregation were Church people after the type of Bishop Hobart, disposed to sympathize in a great measure with Dr. Pusey and the Oxford divines, but in great dread of extravagant innovation. The parish was very large, and included among its members a considerable portion of the _élite_ of Baltimore society. Strange as it may seem, however, outside a certain circle of sturdy High Church families, and especially among the more worldly class, there was a prevailing sentiment that true spiritual religion flourished more in the Methodist than in the Episcopal Church. Although the mitred chair stood in the chancel, St. Paul's was not the bishop's cathedral, and he was not able to take in it that position and perform those acts which he felt were the proper prerogative of a bishop in the principal church of the diocese. The bishops of the Episcopal Church in this country are all in the same anomalous position, without cathedrals or strictly episcopal churches, in which, according to canon law, the see is properly located, having dependent parochial churches affiliated to the mother Church. {25} They must either be rectors of parochial churches, by election of the vestry, or simple parishioners of one of their own subordinate presbyters, without the right of performing any official act, or even sitting in the chancel, except on occasions of convention, episcopal visitation, or something of the sort. The Bishop of New York was even for many years an assistant minister of Trinity Church. Bishop Whittingham was determined to remedy this evil, as far as possible, by establishing a parish, where his proper place would be conceded to him voluntarily by the rector and vestry. Accordingly the Mount Calvary congregation was formed, and began to worship in an old grain-warehouse. There we had early Morning Prayers, and Evening Prayers on every day when St. Paul's was closed; and thither might be seen wending their way, rain or shine, the Bishop with a suite of young ecclesiastics, gentlemen and ladies of the most respectable and cultivated class, and numbers of the more devout people, who found a real solace for their souls, amid the trials and labors of life, in daily common prayer to God. A little after, a more select room was obtained, decorated with a large black cross in the end window, and finally a church was built. We always met a great many of the Cathedral people, in the morning, going to and from Mass, and they were quite astonished at our piety. I have since learned that a number of them, observing the two young men who seemed to them so different from Protestants in their ways, began praying for us, and that a holy priest, F. Chakert, of St. Alphonsus', who died a martyr to his zeal in New Orleans, frequently said mass for our conversion. In our frequent walks, Frank Baker and myself usually, by a tacit consent, took the direction of some Catholic church. Baltimore surpasses every other large town in the United States, except perhaps St. Louis, in the relative number, and in the dignified, imposing style of its Catholic churches and religious institutions. {26} It is a very picturesque and beautiful city in itself, and one of its most striking features is the exterior show of Catholicity which it presents, from the conspicuous position of the numerous Catholic edifices which are distributed through the principal parts of the town; often crowning the summits of some of the high eminences with which it abounds, so that they are distinctly visible in all directions, and their bells resound loudly for a great distance. Some of the Protestant churches also, haying our ecclesiastical style of architecture, and being even surmounted by the cross, fall into the picture as accessories, and add to the impression which a stranger taking a _coup-d'oeil_ of the city would receive. The Cathedral, a truly grand building, though built in the Moresco style, and suggesting the idea of a great mosque in an oriental city, which had been converted by some conquering crusader into a Christian temple, with its great dome and two towers, each of which is surmounted by a gilded cross, queens it majestically over the whole city. It has the finest possible situation, on very high ground, with a spacious enclosure around it, and a modest, but very appropriate archiepiscopal residence in the rear of the sanctuary, fronting on Charles street, the principal street of the court end of the town, a little below the chaste and graceful monument of white marble erected to the memory of Washington. Near by, the Redemptorist Church and Convent of St. Alphonsus, the Convent of the Christian Brothers, the large and beautiful Convent and garden of the Visitation Nuns, the Sisters' Orphan Asylum, and the little chapel and religious house of the colored Sisters of Providence, are clustered together within a very moderate area of territory. Taking the Cathedral as a point of departure, you have at the distance of about half a mile, in the most densely peopled part of the town, St. Mary's Church, and the Seminary of St. Sulpice, with its extensive gardens of many acres in extent. More toward the suburbs, there are the Lazarist Church of the Immaculate Conception, and the large Sisters' Hospital of Mount Hope, with its extensive grounds. {27} In an opposite direction, not far from the Cathedral, is Loyola College, to which adjoins the Jesuit Church of St. Ignatius; beyond these, St. John's, and still further, near the borders of the town, the quaint and interesting St. James's Church of the Redemptorists, with a German Convent of religious ladies. In another direction, St. Vincent de Paul's is seen, with its high massive tower, and in the same quarter of the town, the Carmelites have a convent and chapel, the Redemptorists another large church and convent, called St. Michael's, and there is also the large and handsome parish church of St. Patrick, with its high altar of green marble. Following the outer circle of the city toward the harbor and fort, and returning to a point in line with St. Alphonsus', we have the Church of the Holy Cross, St. Joseph's, and St. Peter's, the latter of which has a congregation composed in great measure of converts. The deep and heavy bell of the Cathedral is repeatedly heard sending forth its booming notes at different hours of the day, answered by St. Alphonsus' and St. Vincent de Paul's, while the other bells take up the refrain in the distance, and the smaller convent bells throw in from time to time, at Angelus, Vespers, or Compline, their silvery, tinkling notes. These Catholic sounds are heard at intervals from morning till night, and the bells of some of the Protestant churches join in also, on many days during the week, ringing for prayers. The Catholic traditions of Baltimore and Maryland, interwoven with their existence from the first; the memory of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, of Archbishops Carroll and Eccleston, and of many other distinguished Marylanders among the Catholic clergy, and, lastly, the large Catholic population, and the wealth, education, and social position of a large class of the members of the Church, who have always mingled freely in society and intermarried with Protestants, specially those of the Episcopal Church--all these and other causes combine to make the Catholic religion conspicuous and powerful in Baltimore, and to keep it always confronting the adherents of other religions, whichever way they turn. {28} It cannot be ignored or kept out of sight and mind. It must be battled with or submitted to. Hence, Protestantism in Baltimore, among the ultra-Protestant sects, has borne a character of unusually intense and persistent hatred to the Catholic Church; and a suppressed spirit of violence has pervaded the lower orders, showing itself ordinarily by slight insults offered to clergymen and religious, but occasionally bursting out in scenes of riot and bloodshed, in which not merely the rabble took part, but where gentlemen were also engaged, and men in high stations lent their influence and protection to shield and encourage the lawless violators of the peace. A number of the Catholic churches here described have been built since the year 1842. The general appearance of the city, however, and the relative number of Catholic institutions, was the same. It was a very interesting place to me from its novelty, and very well known to my new friend and companion, Frank Baker. We perambulated the town and reconnoitred all its environs, penetrating into every nook and corner where there was the smallest chance of finding something to be seen. The Catholic churches underwent a repeated and thorough visitation and scrutiny, by turns. An indefinable attraction drew us to those sacred places, and made us linger and loiter in them without ever growing weary. I know now what it was. It was the power of that Sacred Presence which once drew the disciples and the multitudes after it, when visibly seen, and which now attracts the soul by its invisible charm in the Blessed Sacrament. We never went to mass or to any Catholic service, because we were forbidden to do so by the bishop. We never sought out any Catholic priests, or encountered any, except twice by accident. We read no Catholic books of controversy or devotion, never knelt to pray before the altar, and did not know or suspect where we were going. {29} But the influence of grace was acting most powerfully during those moments in which we were hanging about the altar, and unconsciously drinking in its sacred influence. Our favorite place was the chapel of St. Mary's College, and the Calvary behind it, where the clergy of the Sulpitian Society are buried. This is the sweetest Catholic shrine I have ever visited. The Calvary was not open to visitors, but for some reason we were never interfered with, although we went very often, and remained by the hour. Perhaps our guardian angels knew the future, and led us there unwittingly to ourselves. Our Lord foresaw it, if they did not, and was thinking of the day when one of the two would be there in company with all the clergy of the diocese in a spiritual retreat, and the day when the other, in that same chapel, would be consecrated to the service of the sanctuary. [Footnote 1] [Footnote 1: Father Baker was ordained sub-deacon and deacon in that chapel, a few days before his ordination to the priesthood in the Cathedral.] Many of those who participated in that retreat will recall the recollection of it, on reading these pages. Archbishop Kenrick, the sage of our American hierarchy and one of its saints, that perfect model of a prelate according to the ancient type of the purest Catholic times, the pattern of ecclesiastical learning, Episcopal dignity and vigilance, apostolic zeal, sacerdotal gentleness, and Christian humility, reminding one of the character ascribed by historians to Pope Benedict XIV., sat at the head of his venerable clergy in the sanctuary during all the exercises. Of the clergymen present, some had been forty years in the priesthood, and one at least was ordained by Archbishop Carroll. Some are now bishops, or have modestly declined the offered mitre. I was then a priest, and was assisting F. Walworth in giving the retreat, and Mr. Baker was but just received into the Church. He came to visit me at the spot where we had passed so many pleasant hours in years gone by, and to pay his respects to the excellent Sulpitians by whom his brother had been educated, and to the other clergymen whose brother and associate he aspired to become in due time. {30} He was welcomed most tenderly by the warm-hearted Sulpitians, and greeted with an ardent interest and respect by the clergy and young ecclesiastics who were gathered in that sacred retreat of science and piety. Several of these good clergymen have since spoken of that retreat, which so many circumstances combined to make unusually pleasant, as among the most cherished recollections of their lives. Since I have been betrayed into this long digression by the associations connected with St. Mary's Chapel, I will venture to add one other little incident, of which I have been several times reminded by the venerable President of Mount St. Mary's College. One afternoon, just at sunset, the preacher concluded his discourse by a description of the death of a holy priest, contrasting the glory of his successfully accomplished ministry with that of the hero in the merely secular and temporal order. At the peroration, the parting beams of the sun irradiated a tall marble monument over the grave of a well-known Sulpitian priest, behind the chancel window, in full view of the audience, but unseen by the preacher, and gave an illustration of his words most affecting and impressive to those who witnessed it. It was emblematic, also, of that noble life which was to be accomplished and brought to such a beautiful close, within twelve short years, by that dear companion and friend who was just then on the eve of leaving all to follow Christ, and whose generous heart was swelling with the first emotions of his divine vocation, long since secretly inspired into him while haunting the blessed resting-place of those holy priests. But I have anticipated what was yet in the unknown and undreamed-of future, when we two ardent and enthusiastic youths were yielding our imaginations to the poetic and religious charm which was the precursor of more earnest and durable convictions. {31} St. Mary's was our favorite resort, but we were also impressed in a different way by the austere and monastic aspect of St. James's, where the Redemptorist Fathers, then newly established, had their convent; and I remember that we often conversed about that order with great curiosity and interest. We watched intently the building of St. Alphonsus' Church, and wandered through the sanctuary and sacristy and garden, and into the shop where the lay-brothers and other artificers were at work, occasionally, to our great delight, greeted by these good brothers, who probably took us for priests, as we were then ordained and dressed in long cassocks, with their salutation in German, _Gelobt sey Jesus Christus_. Another object of great interest to us was a monument to the memory of a former pastor, in St. Patrick's Church, bearing the simple and touching inscription: "To The Good De Moranville." This unfeigned tribute of affection to the memory of a good and holy priest did more in a few moments to efface from my mind the effect of the calumnies I had heard from childhood against the Catholic clergy, than a volume of controversy could have done. Mr. Baker took me also to visit the monument erected to Sister Ambrosia by the City of Baltimore. This lady, the daughter of the venerable Mrs. Collins, who died at the age of nearly one hundred years, and was one of those who welcomed Mr. Baker most warmly into the Catholic Church, and the sister of the Very Rev. Mr. Collins, of Cincinnati, was universally regarded as a saint, both by Catholics and Protestants. She had been very intimate in Dr. Baker's family, and attended his two elder sons during their last illness. She fell herself a victim to her charity in attending the sick in the hospitals, leaving the sweet fragrance of her sanctity to linger in the memories of those who knew her. We visited also the graves of those brothers of Mr. Baker whose death had produced so great a change in his character and prospects. {32} They were buried in a Methodist grave-yard, adjoining the beautiful Green Mount Cemetery. Francis had erected a marble tombstone to their memory, on which was carved a cross, and the Catholic inscription, _Requiescant in pace_. When I returned to Baltimore, after my ordination to the Catholic priesthood, I revisited the spot, but found the cross and prayer had been removed. When I had the opportunity of asking Mr. Baker for an explanation of this, he informed me that he had removed them of his own accord, because he thought it an indelicate intrusion on the religious sentiments and feelings of those to whom the burial-place belonged, to leave there a Catholic inscription. Meanwhile we were studying and reading regularly. Bishop Whittingham had a very fine and extensive library, and was constantly supplied with the choicest books and periodicals of the Anglo-Catholic party. The remarkable movement led by Dr. Pusey and Mr. Newman was at its height. In this country we were somewhat behindhand, and were following at some distance in the wake of the most advanced English leaders, so that the later developments rather took us by surprise. We were reading Mr. Newman's earlier works, and only partly aware of the great change taking place in himself and others. The accusation of Romanizing was treated as a calumny, and we had no thought of any thing except bringing our own Church up to what we thought to be the Catholic level, and endeavoring to establish an intercommunion between it and the Roman and Greek Churches through mutual consultation and concession, and a return to the supposed state of things "before the separation of East and West." At least this is true of us in Maryland, whatever might have been the case with a small number elsewhere. Probably the effort to make the Protestant Episcopal Church take the attitude of being Catholic was never made more earnestly and with better hope of success than in Maryland. {33} The bishop headed the movement, and, besides the clergymen already in his diocese who were ready to second him, he attracted thither a number of young men who were devoted to his person and who sympathized in his views. I have no wish to speak disrespectfully or unkindly of Dr. Whittingham. He has always been a most violent opponent of the Catholic Church, and he has seen fit, like some others of the clergy of his peculiar stripe, to break off all intercourse with those who have left his communion to join it. I do not, however, attribute to him any personal animosity as the motive for this, but merely a mistaken religions zeal. He was always very kind and generous to his young clergymen, strict and self-denying in his life, and laborious in the fulfilment of his official duties. His vigorous administration infused a new energy and activity into the Episcopal Church in his diocese, and gave a powerful impetus to what was called the "Catholic" movement. A periodical entitled _The True Catholic, Reformed, Protestant, and Free_, was established, under the care of Hugh Davey Evans, a learned lawyer and very able theological disputant. A college, conducted by young men trained at the celebrated St. Paul's College, Flushing, by Dr. Muhlenberg, was founded at a beautiful and extensive old country-seat, known as "Fountain Rock," near Hagerstown, and a school, called "St. Timothy's Hall," near Baltimore. The bishop and a large number of his clergy went about dressed in long cassocks; altars, crosses, frequent services, ecclesiastical forms and observances, and other outward signs and accompaniments of an approximation to Catholic doctrines and rites, were to be seen everywhere. The Protestant Episcopal Church was loudly proclaimed to be the Catholic Church of the country, and, in a word, the theory taught in the Oxford Tracts and in the earlier writings of Mr. Newman was sought to be put in actual practice. An unusual number of the clergy were unmarried men, and the project of founding a monastic order was entertained by several. {34} Those were stirring times. Of course opposition was excited in the bosom of the Episcopal Church. The Low Churchmen formed a strong and active minority in the Convention, and did their utmost to thwart the projects of the bishop. Very spicy debates took place in consequence, and as there were very able and distinguished men among the lay delegates, who brought all their legal skill and forensic eloquence into play, the sessions of the Convention were often intensely interesting and exciting. The pulpit, the newspapers, and controversial pamphlets were employed in the warfare by both sides, and the community generally, outside of the Episcopal Church, were quite alive with interest in the questions discussed. We had a little society called the "Church Reading Society," of which Mr. Evans was president, and Mr. Baker and myself were members, where certain prayers for Catholic unity were offered, and papers bearing on the topics which interested us were read by the members in turn. The different seasons of the ecclesiastical year were very strictly observed, especially Advent, Christmas, Lent, and Holy Week. The English press was at that time pouring forth a stream of books of devotion and sacred poetry, sermons and spiritual instructions, borrowed or imitated from the treasures of Catholic sacred literature. There was a tide setting strongly backward toward the faith and practice of ancient times, and we surrendered ourselves to its influence, without thinking where it would eventually land us. We had no thought of ever leaving the communion to which we belonged. Never, in any of our conversations, did we even speak of such a thing as possible, or call in question the legitimate claim of the authority, under which we were living, to our obedience. We did not sympathize with the bishop and the larger number of the clergymen of our theological party in their sentiment of hostility and antipathy to the Roman communion. {35} The common ground taken was that the Roman Catholic bishops in England and the United States are schismatical intruders upon the lawful jurisdiction of the English and Anglo-American bishops of the Protestant succession. Bishop Whittingham maintained the stronger ground that the Roman Church throughout the world is schismatical and all but formally heretical. He retained the old spirit of vehement dislike and opposition to the See of Rome and every thing in the doctrine and policy of the church connected with the Papal supremacy, which characterized the old divines of the Church of England. He had in his mind an ideal of the primitive Church, according to which he wished and hoped that a Reformed Catholic Church should be reconstructed by the common consent of all the bishops of the world, and which should absorb into itself all the Christian sects. This idea is necessarily common to all who profess to hold Catholic principles in the Anglican communion. The profession of the doctrine of unity in one, visible, Catholic Church, of itself qualifies the isolation of any body of Christians from the great Christian family, as an anomalous and irregular condition. A return to unity or union of some kind must necessarily become an object of desire and effort. So long as one maintains that the Anglican Church is essentially Catholic, he must maintain also that the Roman Church is in some way wrong in refusing to recognize it, and that the Greek Church is likewise wrong in refusing to do so. Hence he must look on some concessions to be made by both Churches as the necessary condition of the reunion of Christendom. So far, all who profess to be "Anglo-Catholics" must agree. But when the question becomes, how much concession must be made to the Anglican communion, or how much concession must be made by her, how far the Greek Church, the Roman Church, or the Anglican Church have erred; and upon what basis of doctrine and ecclesiastical polity they are to be reformed or restored to union, the agreement is ended. {36} Each individual attributes as much or as little error and corruption to other Churches, or his own Church, as suits his own notions. Each one, or each separate clique, has a peculiar ideal of the true Catholic Church. One may regard the Anglican Church as almost perfect, and wish to bring all Christendom to imitate it. Another finds his beau ideal in the Greek Church. Another regards his own Church as very defective, and the Roman Church as the most perfect, desiring that the Holy See should only abate just enough of its claims to let in Greeks without any acknowledgment of their schismatic contumacy, and Anglicans without giving up that they are in heresy and destitute of any legitimate episcopacy. It is impossible to draw any exact line of demarcation between the adherents of these different views. At the same time, we may say that, in a general sense, one class held the Anglican Church as paramount in its claim of allegiance, and the Church Catholic as subordinate; while the other held the Church Catholic to be paramount, and the Anglican Church subordinate. With the first class, Catholic principles and doctrines were taken hold of as a means of strengthening and exalting the Protestant Episcopal Church as such, and giving her a victory over the rest of Christendom; with the other class, they were embraced in a spirit of deep sympathy with universal Christendom, and with the view of bringing back the Protestant world to the great Christian family. The first class alone can be relied on as devoted adherents of Anglicanism, and they only hold a strong polemical position against the claim of the Roman See to unconditional submission. The other class have their minds and their hearts open to all Catholic influences. They advance continually nearer and nearer in belief and sympathy to the great Catholic body, and great numbers of them pass over to the Catholic communion. Hence we find that almost all the bishops and dignitaries who have joined in the Oxford Movement have belonged decidedly to the first class, and have always tried to hold the second class in check. {37} The few who have belonged to the second class, such as Bishop Ives and the Archdeacons Manning and Wilberforce, have eventually found allegiance to the Anglican Church incompatible with the paramount claims of the Church Catholic, and have openly renounced it. But while it is evident that the position of decided and determined hostility to Rome is absolutely necessary, as Mr. Newman long ago remarked, to High Church Anglicanism, it is equally evident that it is the most narrow, inconsistent, and inconsequent position taken by any class of Protestants. It cuts them off from all real sympathy and community of feeling with the great Catholic body; and although there may be a pretence of sympathy with the Oriental Church, it is a mere pretence, and a most illogical and baseless one. It cuts them off equally from all the rest of Protestant Christendom. Yet, it is only the Catholic and Greek Churches which offer a solid and substantial basis for those doctrinal and hierarchical principles which make their only distinctive character; and it is only the Protestant portion of their Church, and its close intellectual, social, political, moral, and religious alliance with the other Protestant Churches, which gives them any standing, influence, or power in the world. A man of liberal, enlarged, and Christian temper of mind, cannot live in such narrow limits or breathe such a confined air. He must have communion with something greater than the Protestant Episcopal Church. If he regards the great Catholic Church as essentially corrupt, he must sympathize with the Protestant Reformation. If the ground which, as I shall presently show, the High Church bishops maintain, is correct, then the continental Protestants were bound to come out when they did and form new churches. Where were they to get bishops? How were they to preserve the continuity of organization and the apostolic succession? The Church of England did not admonish them of the necessity of doing so. She did not proffer them episcopal ordination. {38} But she made common cause with them, and supported them in their revolt, invited them over to England, and gave them places in the English Church, sent delegates to their great Calvinistic Synod of Dort, and in other ways lent them sanction and countenance, without breathing a hint that she was a whit better than they. Arguments from Scripture and ancient authors in favor of three orders and a liturgy may be very solid and conclusive, but they are also very petty and miserable when they are made the basis of arrogant claims by those whose very existence sprang from the assumption that the universal episcopate had betrayed its trust and apostatized from the true doctrine of Christ. The learned William Palmer has seen the necessity of justifying the attitude of the continental Protestant Churches, and therefore concedes to them, on the plea of necessity, valid ordination and a legitimate constitution. An Anglican, who is a thorough and consistent opponent of Rome, ought to take common ground with Protestants. One who turns his back on Protestantism, and abjures the Reformation, ought to make common cause with Rome and the Catholic Church, even though he as yet holds the opinion that his communion is a true and living branch of the Church of Christ. It may seem strange to those who have never studied or sympathized in the Oxford movement, that men who adopted certain fundamental Catholic principles did not at once embrace the faith and submit to the authority of the Catholic Church, but remained a long time in the Episcopal communion, or even deliberately chose it, after having passed their early life in some other Protestant sect. This seems strange to those who have always been Catholics, and equally strange to the majority of Protestants. So much so, that we have been suspected, and by many fully believed to have been all along concealed Roman Catholics, working in the Episcopal Church for the purpose of "Romanizing" it. {39} A few days before I was received into the Catholic Church, a near and venerable relative of mine said to me: "I am very glad you have become a Catholic, for I can respect a sincere Roman Catholic, but I cannot respect a Puseyite; you will now sail under your true colors. When will H. B. (a cousin of mine, who is an Episcopalian clergyman) do the same thing?" The truth of the matter is, that we all had imbibed such an intense prejudice from our early education against the Roman Church, that we were appalled at the thought of joining her communion. When certain Catholic truths began to dawn upon our minds, it was indistinctly. To those who were bred in the Anglican Church, it was the natural and obvious course to remain there as long as their consciences would permit. To others, it was natural to look for a resting-place in that communion of which our own particular sects were only offshoots, with which educated people of English descent are so familiar through the history and literature of our native language, whose services many of us had frequently attended from childhood, and where many of us likewise had relatives and friends. It is a small matter to go from one Protestant sect to another, in itself considered, and it is no wonder that any orthodox Protestant should prefer the Episcopal Church to any of the religious bodies which have seceded from it. Besides this, there was a _via media_ offered to us by a great body of divines in the Episcopal Church, between Rome on the one hand and Protestantism on the other, which appeared to be exactly the thing we wanted. I acknowledge that I was too easily allured by this specious pretence, and failed to examine with due care the claims of the Church in communion with the See of Rome to be the true and only Church of Christ. I do not think Mr. Baker, notwithstanding that his prejudices were far less than mine, ever gave the subject serious and careful consideration, until long after he had become an Episcopalian minister. {40} We knew too little, however, of the subject, to feel any conscientious obligations in that direction. I can truly say that I never for one moment deliberated on the question of becoming a Catholic, even when I had the fear of death before my eyes, until after I left Baltimore in the autumn of 1845. I never heard from Mr. Baker, up to that time, a word which betrayed the existence in his mind of any practical doubt about his duty in this respect. The growth of Catholic principles in our minds was gradual. By degrees, the mists of misrepresentation, prejudice, and ignorance which obscured the Catholic Church and her doctrines were dissipated and vanished. Our feelings of veneration and love for the great Church of Christendom increased. Still, as long as we were not convinced that actual communion with the Church of Rome and submission to her supremacy was necessary, _jure divino_, to the catholicity of any local Church, we remained firm in our allegiance to the ecclesiastical authority of our bishop. This is only an instance of what was going on in the case of many both in England and the United States. And it appears from this statement, that whereas all the disciples of the Oxford movement began on essentially the same ground, and that, one which implied strong and decisive opposition to Rome, one portion of them progressed continually, and another remained stationary or retrograded, thus producing separation and division in the ranks. What I wish to show now is, that those who progressed were logically compelled to do so by the principles of the movement itself, and that those who remained stationary, although they held a position which was necessary to the maintenance of Anglicanism, were illogical and inconsequent. The advocates of the claim of the Church of England to be the only legitimate and Catholic Church in England, and of the same claim for the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States, were obliged to make out some case against the bishops of these two countries who were under the jurisdiction of the Roman See and who proclaimed themselves to be the only lawful and Catholic bishops, sustained as they were in this claim by all the other bishops of Western Christendom. {41} The possession of the titles and temporalities of the ancient sees in England by the Established Church naturally suggested the plausible pretext that the Church of England of to-day is the legitimate successor of the Church of England before the separation under Henry VIII. Hence, other bishops, exercising episcopal functions within the dioceses of the bishops of the Church of England, are schismatical intruders, and their congregations are schismatical. The same principle was extended to the United States, on the plea that the Bishop of London had episcopal jurisdiction over the English colonies, and moreover that the Protestant Episcopal bishops were first on the ground, and had acquired possession before the "Romish" bishops, as they chose to call them, came. Now this theory is forced to answer one question: Are the bishops of France, Spain, &c., the legitimate Catholic bishops of those countries, and is their communion the true and only Catholic Church there, or not? Is this question answered in the affirmative? Then, who are the Catholic bishops in Canada, Louisiana, Alabama, Florida, Texas, and California? Who went first to China and India? Are the Anglican bishops in these places schismatical intruders or not? If not, why not? And if not, why are Roman Catholic bishops schismatical intruders in London and New-York? The Protestant Episcopal Churches of England and the United States pay no attention whatever to any claim of jurisdiction by the Catholic Church in any part of the world, but seek to thrust themselves in and make converts wherever they can. In order to justify this attitude, and at the same time to profess Catholic principles, it is necessary to maintain that the entire Roman communion is schismatical and heretical, and the Protestant Episcopal Church is the true and only Catholic Church, at least in Western Christendom. {42} This idea is the real _animus_ of the Protestant Episcopate, and its highest expression is found in the opinion so common among Protestants, and held even by Mr. Newman some years after he commenced the Oxford Tracts, that the Pope is Antichrist. The charges of the English bishops, especially those delivered after the publication of the Oxford Tract No. 90, all breathe this spirit. Bishop Elliott, of Georgia, in a sermon preached at the consecration of the missionary bishops, Boone and Southgate, in St. Peter's Church, Philadelphia, in 1843 or '44, spoke of the Catholic missionaries as "dealing out death instead of life" to the heathen. Bishop Whittingham held this view, and "Tridentine Schismatic" was one of the appellations he gave to the Rev. Dr. White, of Baltimore, in a pamphlet which he published against that gentleman. In his Annual Address for 1846 he speaks of me and other converts in the following language: "The lapse of several prominent members of our English sister, and of one even in our own little band, _into the defilements of the Romish communion_, has but too far justified others in sounding the note of alarm," &c.[Footnote 2] The language he made use of in one of his addresses was such, that Mr. Baker, then one of his presbyters, positively declined to read it for him in the Convention, his own voice being too weak to do so. The Rev. A. C. Coxe, now a bishop, published a poem on the occasion of the ordination of the present Bishop of Newark to the diaconate, in Rome, entitled "Hymn of the Priests, to lament one of their number who has been sacrilegiously reordained a deacon, _after abjuring the Catholic communion_, at Rome." In contrast with this is the following, which was copied into the _True Catholic_ for December, 1843. [Footnote 3] [Footnote 2: Journal of Convention of Maryland, 1846, p. 25.] [Footnote 3: Journal of Convention of Maryland, 1846, p. 383.] {43} Conversion Of A Popish Priest To The Catholic Church At Chicester. The Cathedral, _Sunday, October_ 15. In residence, the Lord Bishop, the very Rev. the Dean, the Ven. Arch-deacon Webber, and the Rev. Charles Webber, can. res. We have to record this week one of the most interesting ceremonies ever performed within the walls of this sacred edifice, namely, the public admission of a clerical convert from the Church of Rome, into the bosom of the Holy Catholic Church in this country. The morning prayers were chanted by the Rev. J. P. Roberts, Sub-dean. The _Te Deum_ and _Jubilate_ was Boyce in A. At the ending of the Litany, the Bishop and the Dean proceeded to the altar, while the choir performed Weldon's _Sanctus_; after which (the penitent, Mr. Vignati, an Italian gentleman, who had been for two years a priest in the Romish Communion, standing without the rails) the bishop addressed the congregation in the following words:-- "Dearly beloved, we are here met together for the reconciling of a penitent (lately of the Church of Rome) to the Established Church of England, as to a true and sound part of Christ's Holy Catholic Church. Now, that this weighty affair may have its due effect, let us, in the first place, humbly and devoutly pray to Almighty God for his blessing upon us in that pious and charitable office we are going about. "Prevent us, O Lord, in all our doings with Thy most gracious favor, and further us with Thy continual help, that in this, and all other our works begun, continued, and ended in Thee, we may glorify Thy holy name, and finally by Thy mercy obtain everlasting life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. "Almighty God, who showest to them that be in error the light of Thy truth, to the intent that they may return into the way of righteousness, grant unto all them that are or shall be admitted into the fellowship of Christ's religion, that they may eschew those things that are contrary to their profession, and follow all such things as are agreeable to the same, through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen." Then was read a part of the 119th Psalm, from verses 161 to 168, with the _Gloria Patri_. After which the dean read the following lesson from Luke xv.:--"Then drew near unto him the publicans and sinners for to hear Him; and the Pharisees and Scribes murmured, saying, this man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. And he spake this parable unto them, saying, What man of you having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which was lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it he layeth it on his shoulders rejoicing; and when he cometh home he calleth together his friends and his neighbors, saying unto them, rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost. I say unto you that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons who need no repentance." {44} After this the nine first verses of the 115th Psalm was sung by the choir. Then the bishop, sitting in his chair, spake to the penitent (who was kneeling) as follows:-- Dear brother, I have good hope that you have well weighed and considered with yourself the great work you are come about before this time: but inasmuch as with the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation; that you may give the more honor to God, and that this present congregation of Christ here assembled may also understand your mind and will in these things, and that this your declaration may the more confirm you in your good resolutions, you shall answer plainly to those questions, which we, in the name of God, and of His Church, shall propose to you touching the same. Art thou thoroughly persuaded that those books of the Old and New Testament, which are received as Canonical Scriptures by this Church, contain sufficiently all doctrine requisite and necessary to eternal salvation through faith in Jesus Christ?--I am so persuaded. Dost thou believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth &c.--All this I steadfastly believe. Art thou truly sorrowful that thou hast not followed the way prescribed in these Scriptures for the direction of the faith and practice of a true disciple of Christ Jesus?--I am heartily sorry, and I hope for mercy through Christ Jesus. Dost thou embrace the truth of the Gospel in the love of it, and steadfastly resolve to live godly, righteously, and soberly in this present world, all the days of thy life?--I do so embrace it, and do so resolve, God being my helper. Dost thou earnestly desire to be received into the communion of this Church, as into a sound part of Christ's Holy Catholic Church?--This I earnestly desire. Dost thou renounce all the errors and superstitions of the present Romish Church, so far as they are come to thy knowledge?--I do, from my heart, renounce them all. Dost thou, in particular, renounce the twelve last Articles added in the Confession, commonly called "The Creed of Pope Pius IV.," after having read them, and duly considered them?_-_I do, upon mature deliberation, reject them all, as grounded upon no warrant of Scripture, but rather repugnant to the Word of God. Wilt thou conform thyself to the Liturgy of the Church of England, as by law established, and be diligent in attending the prayers and other offices of the Church?--I will do so by the help of God. {45} Then the bishop standing, said: "Almighty God, who hath given you a sense of your errors, and a will to do these things, grant also unto you the strength and power to perform the same, that He may accomplish His work, which He hath begun in you, through Jesus Christ. Amen." The Absolution.--Almighty God, our Heavenly Father, who, of his great mercy, hath promised forgiveness of sins to all them that with hearty repentance and true faith turn unto Him, have mercy upon you, pardon and deliver you from all your sins, confirm and strengthen you in all goodness, and bring you to everlasting life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Then the bishop, taking him by the hand, said: "I, Ashurst Turner, Bishop of Chichester, do, upon this thy solemn profession and earnest request, receive thee into the Holy Communion of the Church of England, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen." Then was said the Lord's Prayer, all kneeling, after which as follows:--O God of truth and love, we bless and magnify Thy holy name for Thy great mercy and goodness in bringing this Thy servant into the communion of this Church; give him, we beseech Thee, stability and perseverance in that faith, of which he hath, in the presence of God and of this congregation, witnessed a good confession. Suffer him not to be moved from it by any temptations of Satan, enticements of the world, scoffs of irreligious men, or the revilings of those still in error; but guard him by Thy grace against all these snares, and make him instrumental in turning others from the errors of their ways, to the saving of their souls from death, and the covering a multitude of sins. And in Thy good time, O Lord, bring, we pray Thee, into the way of truth all such as have erred and are deceived; and so fetch them home, blessed Lord, to Thy flock, that there may be one flock under one Shepherd, the Lord Jesus Christ, to Whom, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be all honor and glory, world without end. Amen. Then the bishop addressed the person admitted, saying: "Dear brother, seeing that you have, by the goodness of God, proceeded thus far, I must put you in mind that you take care to go on in that good way into which you are entered; and for your establishment and furtherance therein, that if you have not been confirmed, you endeavor to be so the next opportunity, and receive the Holy Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. And may God's Holy Spirit ever be with you. Amen. The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your heart and mind by Christ Jesus. Amen." {46} Thus ended this most interesting ceremony; after which the communion service went on, at which the bishop and dean officiated. Weldon's _Sanctus_, B. Brown's _Kyrie_, and Child's _Creed_ in G. The sermon was preached by the dean, from Luke 15th, ch. 4th, 5th, and 6th verses, of which we need not say much here, as we hope it will shortly be published by Mr. W. H. Mason, by permission of the dean, he having been requested so to do. Anthem, "O Lord, our Governor."--Kent.--_Church Intelligencer_. The Roman Church is throughout the pages of the _True Catholic_charged with idolatry, and in one passage which I had marked, but cannot now find one reason given why Episcopalians cannot attend Catholic services is, because by so doing they participate in idolatry. On the other hand, Protestant ministers are never required to make any such abjuration as the one above cited, on being received into the English Church. The Church of England formerly gave Archbishop Leighton episcopal ordination, he being a Scottish Presbyterian minister, and the Crown gave him jurisdiction in Scotland over the Presbyterian clergy and congregations, without requiring any reordination or any new profession of faith. So now, a German Lutheran minister alternately with an English Episcopalian, is ordained for the Jerusalem bishopric, with authority to receive under his care both English and German ministers and congregations. Now for the inconsistency. The same reasons which prove the Church of Rome to be a schismatical, heretical, and apostate Church, prove that the English Church was the same before the Reformation, and that the Church of Christ had perished in Western Christendom, except as represented by the Lollards, Albigenses, Waldenses, and other precursors of the Protestants. There was really no true, visible Catholic Church existing, from which schismatics and heretics had separated, and to which they could return. Hence, the modern Episcopal Church derived its authority from no legitimate source in the past, and has really started _de novo_, like the Protestant Churches of Europe. This throws us back upon the theory of an invisible Church at once, and breaks up the idea of Catholicity. {47} For the same reason, the Oriental Churches must be regarded as schismatical and heretical. The Nestorians and Eutychians are condemned by the Councils of Ephesus and Chalcedon, accepted by our Anglicans. The Greek Church is identical in doctrine with the Roman, except so far as the Papal supremacy is rejected by them. It disowns and condemns the Anglican Church as emphatically as does the Roman. Nevertheless, we find a number of the Protestant bishops subscribing the following letter to the Patriarch of Constantinople:-- Letter To The Greek Patriarch. Binghamton N. Y., 1_st April_, 1844. _To the Editor of the True Catholic:_ Dear Sir:_-_Having seen in print a copy, surreptitiously obtained, of the letter of our bishops, addressed to some of the Patriarchs in the East, I have thought it might be well to furnish an authentic copy, for permanent preservation in your valuable periodical, especially as it is a document of much importance. It is precisely as I myself, together with Mr. Southgate, presented it, _accompanied by a Greek translation_, to the Patriarch of Constantinople, who received it very graciously. Yours, very truly, J. J. Robertson. _To the Venerable and Right Reverend Father in_ GOD, _the Patriarch, of the Greek Church, resident at Constantinople_. January 2, 1841. The Episcopal Church of the United States of America, deriving its Episcopal power in regular succession from the holy Apostles, through the venerable Church of England, has long contemplated, with great spiritual sorrow, the divided and distracted condition of the Catholic Church of Christ throughout the world. This sad condition of things not only aids the cause of infidelity and irreligion, by furnishing evil-minded men with plausible arguments, not only encourages heresies and schisms in national branches of the Catholic Church, but is also a very serious impediment to the diffusion of Gospel truth among those who are still in the darkness of heathenism, or are subject to other false religions, or continue vainly to look for the coming of that Messiah, whose advent has already blessed the world. {48} The arrogant assumptions of universal supremacy and infallibility, of the Papal head of the Latin Church, render the prospect of speedy friendly intercourse with him dark and discouraging. The Church in the United States of America, therefore, looking to the Triune GOD for His blessings upon its efforts for unity in the Body of Christ, turns with hope to the Patriarch of Constantinople, the spiritual head of the ancient and venerable Oriental Church. In this Church we have long felt a sincere interest. We have sympathized with her in the trials and persecution to which she has been subjected; we have prayed for her deliverance from all evils and mischiefs; and we have thanked her Divine HEAD that He has been pleased, amid all her sufferings, to maintain her allegiance to Him. In order to attempt the commencement of a friendly and Christian intercourse with the Oriental Church, the Church in the United States resolved to send two of its Presbyters, the Rev. J. J. Robertson, and the Rev. Horatio Southgate, to reside at Constantinople. These clergymen are directed to make inquiries regarding the existing state of the Church under the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Constantinople, and of the other Eastern Churches; to ascertain the relations they bear to each other, and the views they maintain in regard to the Apostolic Churches of Europe and America; to answer such inquiries as may be made of them in regard to the origin, constitution, and condition of the Church in the United States; and to do all in their power to conciliate the Christian love and regard of the Oriental Church toward its younger sister in the Western world. After some preliminary inquiries and study of the language, they will present themselves, with this epistle of introduction (by which they are cordially recommended to the Christian courtesies and kind offices of the bishops and clergy of the Oriental Church), to the Patriarch of Constantinople, inviting him to a friendly correspondence with the heads of the Church in the United States, explaining more fully the views and objects of the Church, and inquiring whether a mutual recognition of each other can be effected, as members of the Catholic Church of Christ, on the basis of the Holy Scriptures and the first Councils, including the Apostles' and Nicene Creeds, in order to a future efficient co-operation against Paganism, false religion, and Judaism. They will make it clearly understood that their Church has no ecclesiastical connection with the followers of Luther and Calvin, and takes no part in their plans or operations to diffuse the principles of their sects. They will propose to the Patriarch such aid as the Church in the United States can supply, in the advancement of Christian education, and in the promulgation of religious truth, always avoiding the points in which the two Churches still differ, and leaving the producing of a closer mutual conformity to the blessing of God, on the friendly correspondence of the respective heads of the Churches, or to a future General Council. {49} Leaving a further development of these points to the oral communications of its delegates, and again recommending them to the Christian candor and affection of the Patriarch and clergy of the Oriental Church, and repeating the hearty desire and prayer of the bishops and clergy of the United States for their prosperity, we remain your brethren in Christ. Alexander Viets Griswold, of the Eastern Diocese, and senior of the American Church. Benjamin Tredwell Onderdonk, of New York. George Washington Doane, of New Jersey. Thomas Church Brownell, of Connecticut. Jackson Kemper, of Missouri, &c. William Rollinson Whittingham, of Maryland. Henry Ustick Onderdonk, of Pennsylvania. At the recent visit of a Russian squadron to New York, the Protestant Bishop of New York invited the chaplains of the squadron to make use of one of his churches for the service of the Greek Church, although the offer was declined. Subsequently, Cossack priest, called Father Agapius, said to have letters from the Archbishop of Athens, came to New York as a missionary to the Greeks and Russians, and was accommodated with the use of two Episcopal churches. It came out subsequently that he was in bad standing in the Russian Church, and the members of the Greek Church in New York disowned him, when he threw off the mask, and published a letter where he avowed doctrines far from orthodox according to the standards of the Greek Church. Nevertheless, it was ostensibly as a regular priest of that Church that he was invited to make use of the Episcopal churches; as such the members of that church received him, and whatever changes or omissions he may have made in his public services, they were understood to be celebrated according to the Sclavonic and Greek Liturgies. Thus, there is no escaping from the fact, that High Mass according to the same rite used by Oriental Catholics as well as schismatics, was authorized in the Episcopal Church in New York, a great number of the clergy assisting. {50} The English Church bishops, beginning with the old English Nonjurors, have been always anxious for the recognition of the Greek prelates, and have made several attempts to gain it. Soon after my ordination as deacon in the Episcopal Church, I was invited by Bishop Southgate to accompany him to Constantinople on a mission of this kind. The plan was to have a little ecclesiastical establishment in Constantinople, consisting of a bishop and a few priests and deacons. Although the bishop, who had been for some years a travelling missionary in the East, was married, he wished his clergy to be unmarried men, and selected only such as his associates. There was to be a chapel, where all the rites and ceremonies permitted by Anglican law were to be celebrated with as much pomp as possible. Sermons in the Oriental languages designed to attract the clergy and make a good impression of our orthodoxy, were to be preached regularly. A college and seminary for the instruction of young Oriental ecclesiastics were to be opened, with a strict understanding that they were not to be induced to leave their own communion. Extracts from the works of the Greek Fathers, and translations from Anglican divines, were to be published, with a view to bring about mutual understanding and agreement between the different Churches. Every thing was to be done to propitiate the Oriental prelates and clergy, and to bring about their recognition of our ecclesiastical legitimacy, and intercommunion between themselves and us. The Missionary Committee, who were hostile to this plan, would not confirm my appointment, regarding me as having too strong a Catholic bias to be trusted. Another young deacon was selected in my place, who had been known as a strong Puseyite, but who publicly renounced his opinions before he left the country, in a sermon, in which he came out as a strong Evangelical. {51} The mission was never well supported, but after a few years, fell through entirely, and the bishop is now a parish rector in New York. During a visit to New York, which I made in company with Bishops Whittingham and Southgate, at the time I was expecting to accompany the latter on his mission, I called on a very distinguished and learned presbyter, who was one of the ablest and most influential leaders of the Oxford movement. He asked me if we proposed to endeavor to change the doctrines of the Greek Church. I replied, that certainly we did propose to discuss several of these doctrines with the Greek prelates, and show them that they were not doctrines appertaining to the Catholic faith, but errors and additions made without authority. He inquired what these doctrines were. I cannot recollect how many I specified, but I am sure that the doctrine respecting the cultus of the Blessed Virgin and saints was the principal one. He replied that the doctrines I specified were established by just as good authority as any others, and that it would be impossible for us to convict the Greek Church of holding any erroneous doctrine. His arguments made a great impression on my mind at the time, and helped me forward toward the Catholic Church, although this gentleman himself remained always a Protestant. The efforts made to cultivate the friendship of the Greek Church are very significant. Let it be observed, that the bishops who signed the letter to the Patriarch of Constantinople, both distinctly repudiate the Reformation of Luther and Calvin, and consent to waive all questions of difference between the Greek and the Protestant Episcopal Churches, until they can be decided by a _General Council_. This reduces the _gravamen_ of the charges against Rome to the only point of difference which exists between herself and the Greek Church; that is, to the claim of supremacy of the Roman Pontiff. {52} This is, then, the sum and substance of the "_defilements of the Romish Communion_." Here lies the whole _casus belli_ between the champions of Anglicanism and the Catholic Church. There is no hope of reconciliation on equal terms with the See of Rome and her vast communion. Therefore, a rival claim of Catholicity must be set up, and supported by every possible charge that can be made to tell against the mighty Church whose Bishop claims the dignity and authority of successor to the Prince of the Apostles. Hence the odious names of "Roman Schism," "Romanist," "Romish," "Tridentine Schism," "Popery," "Popish," and all the other party catch-words of corruption in doctrine, bondage, tyranny, idolatry, etc., which are studiously employed, in order to throw dust in the eyes of the simple and unwary. Hence the effort to appropriate the name of Catholic, and to use all the phraseology associated with it, in connection with the Protestant Episcopal communion. Rome will not abate one jot or tittle of her divine rights, or of the Catholic doctrine of which she is the principal bulwark; and she will not treat the Church of England as a branch of the Christian Church. Therefore a rival must be set up against her, backed by the power and the prestige of the English name, and, if possible, also by those of the mighty Russian Empire and the ancient Eastern Church. The Nonjurors proposed to the Eastern prelates sitting in the Synod of Bethlehem, a plan for combining against Rome under an ecclesiastical organization whose head should be the Patriarch of Jerusalem. It was scornfully rejected, together with all their other overtures. No doubt, if the Church of England and the Episcopal Church of the United States could make a combination with the Greek Church, on the basis of the Oriental standards of doctrine, it would be the most formidable rival possible to the Catholic Church. But such a union is impossible. The Providence of God does not permit heresy and schism to assume the attitude of Catholicity, but compels them to manifest their true character by disintegration. {53} And here lies another mark of the inconsistency of the theory of those who set up this claim of rival Catholicity against Rome. The Protestant Episcopal Churches, as such, do not sanction and assert in their public and official action the claim made for them by a certain portion of their members. The utmost that can be said of them is, that they affirm and exact episcopal ordination as requisite to a complete conformity to the polity established by the Apostles. They do not, however, assert, or require their clergy to believe, the necessity of apostolic succession to the being of a Church. Their standards are so constructed as to afford a shelter and a warrant to those who hold this and several other Catholic doctrines and principles. These doctrines are not, however, officially put forward as a term of communion, or a condition for ordination. The official doctrine of a Church is limited to that which it exacts by authority and under penalty of its teachers to hold and profess. It comes down to the lowest level of doctrine, which its teachers can hold, and still be reputed sound and orthodox clergymen. Now a very low Protestantism is all that even High Church bishops can exact from candidates for the priesthood or the episcopacy. "Anglo-Catholic" doctrine is nothing but the tolerated opinion of a certain party. Therefore, on these "Anglo-Catholic" principles, and according to the doctrine and decisions of the Greek Church, the Protestant Episcopal Church is schismatical and heretical, because she enforces nothing by her authority beyond Protestantism, which is heresy according to that standard of doctrine which was universally acknowledged before the "separation of the East and West," and accepted both by Greeks and "Anglo-Catholics." According to those principles, then, which would condemn the Roman Church of heresy and schism, all Episcopal Churches in the world have fallen away from the unity of faith established by our Lord, and the Catholic Church exists no more. {54} Hence, even an "Anglo-Catholic," if he would not be driven into the arms of pure Protestantism, and consort with those followers of Luther and Calvin who are disowned by Bishop Griswold and his associates, are forced to make common cause with Rome and her Catholic communion. The progressive portion of those who were engaged in the Oxford movement saw and felt all this, and, therefore, in a strict consistency with their Catholic principles, and by a logical necessity, they advanced in a Romeward direction. It has been necessary to make this long explanation in order to show how matters stood at the time when Mr. Baker and myself were connected with the ecclesiastical movement in Baltimore, under Bishop Whittingham. The Oxford movement was then ten years old. The celebrated Ninetieth Tract, in which Mr. Newman took the ground that several Roman dogmas were permitted by the Thirty-nine Articles, and that the Articles were to be explained according to the Catholic sense of the general body of the Universal Church, had been some time published, and the controversy excited by it was nearly completed. Mr. Newman was about resigning St. Mary's, and soon after went into retirement at Littlemore. A great number of the ablest writers of his party had advanced very far beyond the position taken by the earlier Oxford Tracts, and by Palmer, Percival, Keble, and others, at the outset. In the United States, the ordination of the Rev. Arthur Carey had taken place, under circumstances of the most peculiar character, which deserve a passing notice. Arthur Carey was a young student of the New York Theological Seminary, barely twenty years of age, of an English family, and descended from several bishops of the English Church. He was a youth of rare intellectual gifts and acquirements, as well as of the most gentle and lovely character. Bishop Whittingham, who had been his preceptor, said that he possessed the wisdom of a man of fifty. {55} In some way, the suspicions of a number of the principal Low Church rectors had been excited in regard to him, and he was subjected to a most rigorous examination for orders, in which he manifested his profound theological science and his brilliant parts, together with a magnanimity of spirit which won for him a wide-spread admiration, especially among all High Church Episcopalians. In the course of his examination, he avowed the most advanced opinions of the Oxford party, and expressed his belief in the sound orthodoxy of the decrees of the Council of Trent. He was violently attacked by some members of the examining committee, and defended by others, the majority finally recommending him for ordination. Bishop Onderdonk determined to ordain him, and was proceeding in the ceremony of ordination, when he was interrupted by two doctors of divinity in gowns, who publicly protested against the ordination, and then left the church. Bishop Whittingham urged him very strongly, after his ordination, to come to his diocese, which he declined doing. About this time, I read, in manuscript, a beautiful philosophical essay on Transubstantiation, which he wrote, according to the system of Leibniz, proving the futility of all the rational arguments urged against it. The circumstances of his ordination made him suddenly famous. He was assistant minister to Dr. Seabury, at the Church of the Annunciation, and every Sunday his sermons were reported for the secular papers, with minute accounts of his appearance, and all his sayings and doings. This publicity was insufferable to him; and in a letter of his, which I saw, he said that it made life a burden to him. His constitution was extremely delicate, and weakened by close application to study. He was a boy in years, and unable to breast the moral shock which he had received. He speedily sank into a decline, and died at sea, off the Moro of Havana, whither he had been sent for the benefit of his health, his body being committed to the deep by his fellow-passengers, who were all strangers to him, and one of whom read the Burial Service over his remains. {56} For a long time afterward, his poor father might be seen every day standing on the Battery, and gazing wistfully out to sea, with mournful thoughts, longing after the son whom he had lost. There is something in the history of Arthur Carey assimilating it to that of Richard Hurrell Froude. Each of them, in his sphere, did more than any other to arrest the anti-Roman tendency of the Oxford movement, and give it a Romeward direction. In Mr. Carey's instance, it was not the mere effect of his own personal avowal of holding Roman doctrine, but the protection given him in doing so by the bishop of the principal diocese, the directors of the General Seminary, and a large number of other bishops and clergymen, which was significant. It was this which led to the persecution of Bishop Onderdonk; and it was believed that a plan was on foot for similar attacks on the other bishops who were regarded as Puseyites. The reader of these pages can now understand something of the nature of those stirring and exciting times in the ecclesiastical world in which Mr. Baker began his career, and of the events and questions about which we were daily conversing together. Bishop Whittingham approved of the principle of interpreting the Articles laid down in the Ninetieth Tract. On this principle, I gave my assent to them at my examination for orders, and could not otherwise have assented to them with a safe conscience. The ordination of Mr. Carey opened the way for us to go forward to the full extent of holding all the doctrines of the Council of Trent. The current of Oxford thought and literature was sweeping us in that direction. We had full access to it, and felt its power, although, as I have said, we were a good deal behind the movement, and ignorant of many things which were taking place in England. Mr. Baker was far in advance of me at the time our friendship began. He never had that feeling of hostility to the Roman Church with which so many were filled. {57} His early education, and the knowledge he had of Catholicity and of the Catholic clergy and laity in Baltimore, preserved him from that strong prejudice which I retained from the impressions of childhood, and which he aided me greatly to overcome. Neither of us ever looked on the Roman communion as heretical, schismatical, or essentially corrupt. We adopted, at first, the prevalent idea that it was in a schismatical position in England, and in those parts of the United States where we supposed the Protestant Episcopal Church had prior possession. We dropped this notion, however, after a while; and I remember well that it was a friend of ours, who was then and is now a minister of the Episcopal Church, who drove it finally out of my head by solid and unanswerable arguments. We could not agree with the bishop and his party in their anti-Roman sentiments, and disliked the offensive use of the terms "Romish" and "Romanist." We regarded the Catholic Church as composed of three great branches--the Latin, Greek, and Anglican--unhappily estranged from each other, and all more or less to blame for the separation. We did not believe in the supremacy of the Pope, in the full Catholic sense, as constituting the e essential principle of Catholic unity, or that communion with the Holy See was necessary to the very being of a Church. We did, however, come to believe by degrees in a certain Primacy, partly divine and partly ecclesiastical, as necessary to order, and the means of preserving intercommunion among all bishops. What we regarded as errors in Roman doctrine, we looked upon as much less fundamental than those Protestant errors which pervaded so extensively our own Church; we considered them much in the same light with which Bishop Griswold and his brethren regarded the peculiar doctrines of the Greek Church, as matters to be tolerated, until all branches of the Church could meet in a general council and make a final decision upon all controversies. Considering the divided and anomalous state of Christendom, we thought that both the Roman and Anglican bishops had an equally legitimate jurisdiction over their congregations, and that we were alike Catholics, and in real communion with the Universal Church of all ages and nations. {58} We thought it to be the duty of each one to remain in the communion where he had been baptized or ordained, and would have dissuaded any Episcopalian from joining the Roman communion, or any Roman Catholic from joining ours. I remember, one evening, after hearing an account given with great glee by a young man of the perversion of a Catholic, that Mr. Baker said, after the person in question had gone, "What a miserable story that was which M---- just related!" In my own little parish, there was an Irish servant-girl, whom I married to a young Englishman, my parishioner. I had no scruple in doing this, not reflecting that I was the occasion of the girl committing a sin against her own conscience. But when her mistress expressed great hopes of her coming over to our Church, and I began to think she might apply to me for confirmation, I carefully avoided encouraging the plan, and considered seriously what I ought to do if any such case should arise. Very strangely and inconsistently, Bishop Whittingham used to confirm the occasional perverts that fell in his way, although they had received Catholic confirmation. And this increased my difficulty. For I regarded an act of that kind as a sacrilege, and could not have been a party to it in any case, unless I had thought it right, according to my overstrained notions of obedience, to throw the whole responsibility on the bishop. As I have often said, we never entertained the thought of leaving our own Church. The conversation of those who talked doubtfully on this point was always most disagreeable to us both, although it was only in one or two instances that we fell in with any such persons. Toward our own bishop we were strictly obedient. His violent antipathy to Rome and strong Anglican party spirit, joined with a timid, politic course of action toward the Low Church, ultra-Protestant party, prevented our giving him full and unreserved confidence. {59} Mr. Baker had seldom the occasion of conversing much with him. I was, however, constantly in his family, and very much in his society. I confided in him as a man of integrity, a sincere and generous friend, and a just and kind superior. But, from the first, there was a barrier which I had not expected to full and unreserved confidence, and a feeling that there was a secret and fundamental difference in our apprehension of the ideas which are contained in the forms of Catholic language. I have since discovered what this difference was, and I see now that he really believed in an invisible, ideal Catholic Church only, and in no other outward, visible unity, except that which is completed in a single bishop and congregation. This explains a remark made at that time by my father, who is thoroughly acquainted with the Protestant theology, on one of the bishop's essays; that, except his doctrine of three orders in the ministry, he was a pure Congregationalist. Mr. Newman, also, held the same view, until quite a late period in his Anglican life, as appears from his "Apologia." In Bishop Whittingham's own eyes, he was himself the equivalent of the whole Catholic episcopate. Consequently, what he and his colleagues and predecessors in the Anglican Church had decreed had full Catholic authority, and was just as final and authoritative as if the whole world had taken part in it. Hence the assertion of a despotic, exclusive authority of the Anglican Church, concentrated in his person, over everyone who acknowledged his jurisdiction. He would not permit us to attend any Catholic services, or read any Catholic books, as an ordinary thing. I read the tract of Natalis Alexander on the Eucharist, and the Life of St. Francis of Sales, in his library, before he made his prohibition. Afterward, he gave me himself a volume of Tirinus's Commentary on the Holy Scriptures; and these were the only Catholic books I read while I was in his family. I was very anxious to read Möhler's "Symbolism," but I did not; nor did I read Ward's "Ideal of a Christian Church;" because he desired me not to do so. {60} I even gave up using approved Anglican books of devotion in church, because he expressed his disapprobation of using any other book but the "Common Prayer." Mr. Baker was equally obedient with myself at that time; although afterward, when he was governed more by common-sense and a just sentiment of his own rights, he read whatever he thought proper. It was Anglican books which brought us onward toward the Catholic Church, and the attempt to live up to and carry out Anglo-Catholic principles. Those who are familiar with the Anglo-Catholic movement will understand at once what these principles and doctrines were. But for the information of others it may be proper to state them distinctly, as they were understood by Mr. Baker, and others like him, who approximated more or less toward the Catholic Church, whether they eventually joined her communion or not: 1. The visible unity of the Catholic Church. 2. The final authority of the Church in deciding doctrine, and the authority of General Councils. 3. The necessity of an Apostolic Succession, and the divine institution of the episcopate. 4. Baptismal Regeneration and Sacramental Grace. 5. The strictly sacerdotal character of the priesthood, including the power of consecrating, and of absolution. 6. The Real Presence in the Eucharist. 7. The sacrificial character of the Eucharist. 8. The propriety of praying for the dead. 9. The merit of voluntary chastity, poverty, and obedience, and of penitential works. 10. The value of ceremonies in religion, and the sanctity of holy places and holy things. {61} However certain persons may modify and explain certain of these doctrines, no one can deny that the general drift of the writings of the Oxford or Anglo-Catholic school, together with that of the writings of the ancient Fathers and of the earlier English divines which are translated or republished by them, was to create and strengthen a belief in these doctrines. They were allowed to be tenable without infidelity to the Anglican Church, by persons in authority and others, who were themselves lower and more Protestant in their opinions. Now, I will take for a moment the position of an Anglo-Catholic, and, upon the basis of the principles I have just enunciated, I will prove that an attitude of hostility to the Roman Church is wrong and absurd, and that the only consistent and tenable ground is that now taken by the Unionists, represented by the _Union Review_. "The Latin, Greek, and Anglican branches of the Catholic Church constitute but One Visible Church, though their unity is impaired and in part interrupted by mutual estrangement. As a member of the Anglican Church, I look upon the Greek Church as essentially sound and orthodox, and, if allowed to do so, would wish to receive the sacraments, or, if a clergyman, to officiate as such, in the churches of that Rite, if I happened to be in a place where it was established. I look upon the Latin Church, whose doctrine is the same with that of the Greek Church, with the single exception of the Papal Supremacy, in precisely the same light. Whatever I may think of the extent of power claimed by the Bishop of Rome, I must allow that, in a state of perfect intercommunion between all parts of the Church, the chief place in the Catholic hierarchy and the right of presidency in a general council belong to him. It is most desirable that the Greek and Anglican Churches should be restored again to communion with the Roman Church, and all controversies respecting doctrine be definitely settled. Meanwhile, the spirit of charity ought to be cultivated, and all possible means taken to remove prejudice and misunderstanding. In the present state of confusion and irregularity, the ancient canons respecting one bishop in a city cannot be considered as binding; and therefore Roman, Greek, and Anglican congregations, formed under the authority of bishops who are in regular communion with their own branch, are equally legitimate and Catholic, wherever they may be. {62} The decisions of the particular national synods of the Anglican branch have no final authority, and are only binding so far as they declare the doctrines of the Universal Church. They are to be interpreted in the 'Catholic sense,' and are strictly obligatory only on those who have made a promise to maintain them, and upon those only in the sense in which they are imposed by authority, under censure. It is the Catholic Church, and not the Church of England or the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States, of which I am a member by baptism, and therefore I have no duties to either of those ecclesiastical organizations, except such as arise out of their relation to the great Catholic body, and are compatible with the absolute allegiance I owe to its teaching and law's." Such I conceive to be a statement of the only view an Anglican can consistently take, unless he plants himself upon the common Protestant ground. According to this, it is ridiculous for him to abstain from going to Catholic services, reading Catholic books, and cultivating the acquaintance of Catholic clergymen and lay-people. The pretence of deposing or degrading clergymen, because they pass to the communion of Rome, is an absurd and impotent attempt at retaliation. What sin can there be in going from St. Paul's Church, where the Mass is in English, celebrated by a priest of the Anglican Rite, under the obedience of the Catholic Bishop Whittingham, to the Cathedral, where the Mass is in Latin, celebrated by a priest of the Latin Rite, under the obedience of the Catholic Archbishop Spalding? How can there be the guilt of apostasy involved in such an act? How can a person "abjure the Catholic Communion" at Rome, by joining that which is confessedly the principal branch of the Catholic Church? {63} A person who believes in this theory of branches may say it is inexpedient and unwise for individuals to leave their particular connection, that it perpetuates the estrangement, and that it is better to wait for the time when the "English Branch" will be reunited bodily to the parent tree. They cannot pretend, however, that this is any thing more than a matter of private opinion. The only legitimate means they have for keeping their adherents from leaving them are argument and persuasion. It avails nothing to say that if free access to Roman Catholic services and books, and, in general, free intercourse with us is permitted, and the charge of schism, violation of baptismal or ordination obligations, &c., is abandoned, we shall gain over a great number of their members. What of that? Those who adopt a theory are bound to adhere to it. If this Anglo-Catholic theory has any thing in it, it ought to be able to sustain the shock of a collision. We have nothing but argument and persuasion on our side. Why should their influence be dreaded? If Catholic principles, sympathies, and practices gravitate toward Rome, let them gravitate; it is a sign that the centre of gravity is there. That the Oxford movement did gravitate toward Rome by its original force is a plain fact, proved by the number, the character, and the acts of those who have become converts to the Catholic Church. Not that their testimony is a direct proof that the Catholic Church is divine and infallible. This rests on extrinsic, objective evidence. But it is a direct proof that the pretence of the Catholicity of the Anglican communion cannot furnish full and complete satisfaction to conscientious minds that have imbibed Catholic principles. It professed to do so; but it has failed. Those who still cling to it cannot deny that the dissemination of their views generally produces in those who embrace them, at some period of their mental history, a deep misgiving respecting the safety of their position. This is not so in the Catholic Church. Catholics, who retain a firm faith in the principles of Catholicity, and endeavor to obey their consciences, never have a misgiving that they are out of the Church, or that there is any other church which has a better claim to be regarded as the Catholic Church. {64} If human reason has any certitude, if the human mind is governed by any fixed laws, if the concurrent judgments and convictions of great numbers of the wisest and best men have any value, if there is any such thing as logic, these considerations ought to have weight. But I am weary of chasing this Protean phantom of Anglo-Catholicism through its shifting disguises, and its labyrinthine mazes. And I gladly return to the theme of my narrative. Francis Baker was ordained deacon on the 16th of February, 1845, and in the following August was appointed assistant minister of St. Paul's Church. During the interval he was performing occasional duty in assisting the rectors of different parishes in Baltimore, under the bishop's direction. His first sermon was preached in St. Paul's Church, Baltimore, on the Sunday afternoon of his ordination day, which was the Second Sunday of Lent. On the evening of the same day he preached at St. Peter's. His text was taken from the I. Epist. John, iv. 4: "_And this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith_." It was a beautiful sermon, and perfectly Catholic in its doctrine and tone. I regret that it is not extant, for I think that if it were, it would be worthy of a place among the sermons published in this volume. In it he extolled a life of virginity in glowing language, as the means of a closer union with Christ; and its whole scope was to present the lives of those who have renounced the world, as models of the highest Christian perfection. I read prayers for him that evening, and we walked home afterward together. We separated in silence, neither of us expressing his thoughts, but both seeming to feel a kind of blank and unwilling sense of disappointment, as if dimly conscious that our Catholicity was an unreal and imaginary thing. At St. Paul's Church his eloquence took the congregation completely by surprise. {65} His quiet, unassuming character had not prepared even his friends to expect that he would manifest so much power as a preacher. From this time his reputation was fixed at the highest point, and he always sustained it. There were several very excellent preachers in the Maryland Diocese, but I believe it was generally admitted that Mr. Baker surpassed them all, and the most intellectual and cultivated people ever looked upon his sermons as affording to their minds and hearts one of the choicest banquets they were capable of enjoying. I have never known a young clergyman to be more generally and warmly admired and loved than Mr. Baker. Nevertheless, applause and popularity did not affect him in the least, and the pure mirror of his soul was never tarnished by vanity and self-complacency. Even then, his spontaneous desires and longings seemed to forecast the apostolic vocation which was in store for him. He had an ardent desire for a religious life, and was especially attracted by the character and life of Nicholas Ferrar, and by the history of the little religious community which he formed at Little-Gidding. In our walks we often conversed about the practicability of establishing a religious house which would give us the opportunity of working among the neglected masses of the people, and looked about for some suitable building for this purpose. There was a scheme talked of for establishing a monastic and missionary institute on the eastern shore of Maryland, and there were eight or ten clergymen who would have been eager to join in the enterprise if the bishop had been courageous enough to begin it. But the fear of Low Churchmen prevailed, and nothing was ever done. We very soon found that the work of "Catholicizing" the Episcopal Church in Maryland got on very slowly and miserably, through the open opposition of the Low Church party, and the dead, inert resistance of the old High Church. {66} At an early period of Bishop Whittingham's administration, the Rev. Henry V. D. Johns, rector of Christ Church, bade him open defiance, and preserved that attitude until his death, many years afterward. The bishop preached and published two remarkably learned and able sermons on the priesthood, one of which was preached at the institution of Mr. Johns. At the close of it he exhorted the parishioners to receive their new rector as their divinely-appointed teacher, and to submit to his instructions with docility. The same night, Mr. Johns preached a sermon which contained a violent attack on the bishop's doctrine, and made a solemn declaration, sanctioned by an appeal to Heaven, that he would evermore oppose that doctrine, and preach the contrary in his pulpit. This was the signal for hostilities, and a sharp controversy arose out of the affair, which was renewed from time to time, as occasion offered. The bishop made one or two more efforts to bring out his Reformed Catholicism in sermons or charges, and then desisted, seeming to be more anxious to defend himself against the charge of Popery than to attack Protestantism. In regard to the outward ceremonial of religion, the efforts made to improve it were equally feeble and abortive. There was a miserable little church in an obscure street, called St. Stephen's, with an altar something like a marble-topped wash-stand, and some curtains covered with roughly-executed symbols, such as mitres, chalices, keys, etc., where we played a little at Catholics with so much success that a good old lady said it was worse than the Cathedral. The opposition which was excited by these innocent and absurd little ecclesiological essays were such that the parish was nearly ruined, and the rector in great alarm speedily banished all innovations, and brought his chancel and his windows back to the old-fashioned style. There was a little preaching in the surplice, a little display of crosses, and a great deal of Catholic talk in private circles, and very little else. The attempt to make the Protestant Episcopal Church in Maryland exhibit herself as the Reformed Catholic Church was a most signal failure. {67} The _True Catholic_ labored faithfully to defend Mr. Newman from the charge of Romanizing until he actually joined the Catholic Church, and then took to decrying him and other converts as much as possible. It then took up Archdeacon Manning, H. W. Wilberforce, and Marshall, loading its pages with extracts from their writings, until all these gentlemen followed Mr. Newman's example. What it did afterward, and whether it has survived until the present time or not, I do not know. The cassocks were silently and gradually dropped. Some of the young clergymen married, and took to walking sedately in the old paths, and others left the diocese. The few who could not unlearn or forget the Catholic principles they had imbibed, retired into themselves and kept quiet. And thus matters went back to their old condition of a sort of uneasy compromise between High and Low Church, on the basis of a common hostility to Rome. I remember well the startling effect produced by the news of Mr. Newman's conversion. Whatever his modesty may induce him to say in disclaimer, he was the leader, the life, and the soul, of the Oxford movement: his genius and character had acquired for him in this country, as well as in England, a sway over a multitude of minds such as is seldom possessed by any living man. The news of his conversion was brought to Baltimore by Bishop Reynolds, of Charleston, who had just arrived from Europe. I heard it from Bishop Whittingham, one evening, after I had been to prayers in St. Paul's. I passed him on the steps and went out, and heard him say in a sorrowful tone, "Newman has gone." It went to my heart as if I had heard of my father's death. I did not wish to speak with anyone on the subject, for, although I was not prepared to follow him, yet I could not speak harshly or lightly of the decision of a man whose wisdom and goodness I venerated so highly, or endure to hear the comments of others. {68} Mr. Baker and I had no opportunity to converse together very much on this matter, or indeed on any other. Our separation was at hand, under circumstances painful and trying to both. He was confined to the chamber of his brother Alfred, who was dangerously ill with the varioloid, and, of course, could neither make or receive any visits. I was obliged to leave Baltimore a few days after, for North Carolina, by the order of my physician. I took a hurried farewell of Mr. Baker, at the door of his house, with very little expectation, on either side, of ever meeting again. He had assisted me very frequently in the duties of my little parish in the suburbs, during several months of declining health, and after my departure he continued to visit the congregation and preach for them occasionally. It was during the autumn of 1845 that I left Baltimore. At the close of the Holy Week of 1846 I was received into the Catholic Church, at Charleston, S. C., and in March, 1847, I was ordained priest by the Right Rev. Dr. Reynolds, the bishop of the diocese. Before leaving Edenton, N. C., where I resided during the previous winter, I wrote to Mr. Baker to inform him of my intention, and I continued to write to him occasionally, receiving letters from him in return, for some months afterward. The correspondence on his part soon became constrained and formal, and at last was stopped at his request. For the three years, immediately following my ordination, I saw or heard nothing of him. I continued to hope for his conversion, and often offered up the Holy Sacrifice for that intention. By degrees, however, the thought of him passed away from my mind, and I ceased to anticipate that the broken thread of our friendship would ever be re-united. I supposed that he had become permanently settled at some halting-place between Protestantism and the Catholic Church, and would live and die contentedly in his chosen position as an Episcopalian clergyman, forgetting his earlier and nobler aspirations as among the dreams of youth. {69} For the history of his mind during this period, I am indebted to the letters which he continued to write to the bosom friend who has been already spoken of, and the information which that friend has given me personally. I am also indebted to the same source, chiefly, for the history of his progress toward Catholicity, during the entire period of seven years which elapsed before his reception into the Catholic Church. For, although I saw him repeatedly during the last three years of this period, he was extremely guarded and reserved in his language; and during our common life together, as Catholics, afterward, I never asked him for any detailed account--the subject having, in great measure, lost its interest for us both. I have reason to believe that at the time of my conversion he had his misgivings, and indeed his first letters to me showed a disposition on his part to enter into a free discussion of the matter with me. He soon quieted these misgivings, however, and determined to throw himself heart and soul into the work of realizing Catholicity in his own Church. He even underwent a reaction which awoke a feeling of hostility to the Roman Church, and of anger against me, for having, as he expressed it, "spoiled their plans." His good and true friend of past days, who had continually encouraged and urged him on from the first to follow boldly in the footsteps of those who led the advance of the Oxford movement, would not, however, permit him to rest in this state. He was determined himself not to shut his eyes to the difficulties and perplexities of his position, and he would not allow his friend to do it. He never ceased to unbosom freely all his own doubts and disquietudes, to communicate the results of his continual reading and reflection, and to stimulate his friend to push on in the study of Catholic principles and doctrines until he had reached a final and satisfactory result. Judging from the letters of Mr. Baker which I have before me, I should think that both his misgivings about his own position and his bitter feelings toward the Roman Church gave place to a quiet resolution of adhering to the position he had taken, before Mr. Newman's conversion and that of others of lesser note had startled his repose. {70} For two or three years his letters do not indicate a disquieted mind, but are often full of hope for the prospects of the Anglican communion. By degrees a change is manifest, and it is easy to see the progress of a conviction slowly forcing itself upon him that the Episcopal Church is essentially Protestant, and all the efforts made to place her in a Catholic light and attitude a mere illusion. The workings of a mind and heart struggling with doubt and disquiet, weary of a hollow and unreal system, weaned from all worldly hopes, detaching itself from all earthly ties, and striving after the truth and after God, become more and more manifest, until at last, after seven long years, the result is reached. I have hesitated much before determining to insert a portion of these letters in this narrative. Certain motives of delicacy toward my departed friend and others would incline me to withhold them. But their perusal has seemed to me to exhibit so much more clearly than any narrative of mine could do, the transparent purity of the heart from which they emanated, and the wonderful workings of divine grace upon it, that I have judged it best to prefer the profit of those who will read this book to private feeling. Some of them, which are merely descriptive, I have inserted, because there could be no reason for withholding them, and they will give pleasure to the friends of the writer, who value every thing which came from his pen. In regard to others, which were private and confidential, I have used the utmost caution to select only those portions which are necessary to a full exhibition of the writer's gradual progress to the Catholic Church. I will first quote some extracts from the correspondence of an earlier period, which show the first blossoms of the later ripened fruit of Catholic faith and holiness in the pure and upright soul of Francis Baker. {71} From Francis A. Baker To Dwight E. Lyman. "Baltimore, _February_ 20, 1843. "My Dear Dwight: * * * * * "Of course you have seen the letter 'Quare Impedit.' Is it not very caustic? I cannot but think it defective in the non-expression of what the writer doubtless believed, the sense in which the Council of Trent's words as to 'immolation' are true. It does not sufficiently bring out the true and unfigurative sense in which the sacrifice on the altar is the same with the sacrifice on the cross. * * * * * "As I go on with my studies, my dear Dwight, I become more and more attracted to them, and, I hope, more and more of a Catholic. Indeed, I seem to myself to live in a different world from that around me, and to be _practical_ I find one of the most difficult attainments. But to be frank with you, in looking forward to the future, the situation of a parish priest seldom fills my mind. I almost always look to the monastic life in some of its modifications. It is true that on the score of fitness I have no right to look forward to such privileges; but from some circumstances which you will appreciate, my heart has been drawn more entirely from the world than most persons of my age. But the future belongs to God, and I must now prepare myself for the duties which seem pointed out to me. I have not spoken to anyone else of this long-cherished desire, and, indeed, there are at present insurmountable difficulties in the way; but I do not look upon it is as so visionary a scheme as I once did. * * * * * "Your brother told me of his intended repairs in his church. I am delighted to hear it. It will not be long, I hope, before such is the universal arrangement of our churches. Only one thing will be lacking (if he has a cross), the candlesticks. I have come to the conclusion that we have a perfect right to them, for they will come in by the Church common-law, as the surplice did. {72} I do not suppose it would be proper for a priest to introduce them without his ordinary's sanction. I do wish a charge would come out recommending the Catholic usages. I don't give any weight to the cry of some about us, to wait for such things until Catholic doctrines are received. I cannot but think that such things would have a reflex influence on doctrine. While we are externally so identified with the Protestants, it will be hard to convince the world that we have any claims to antiquity or Catholicity. Pray use your influence to have a solid altar, and as large as may be." * * * * * "Baltimore, _June_ 9, 1843. "It was a great disappointment to me not seeing you here at the Convention, and there has been going on here so much of interest to you. The Roman Council you have heard all about, I am sure. I was not present, of course, at any of their services or meetings, nor did I see any of their processions, but from all I have heard, and from what I have seen at other times, I think it must have been a most glorious spectacle. I do not think I am fond of pageantry, but it must have been heart-stirring to see the Church coming out of the sanctuary which she has in her own bosom, and going forth to take possession of the world in the name of her ascended Lord. Imagine a band of sixteen venerable bishops, with surpliced acolytes and vested priests, with their lights and cross and crosier, all chanting in murmuring responses some old processional chant; the effect of the whole heightened by the brightness of a May sun reflected from many a golden stole and glittering mitre! I am sure the sight would have set you crazy. Indeed, I feared myself that it would present an unfortunate contrast with our neat, dress-coat clergy. But our own Convention had far more of an ecclesiastical appearance this year than it ever had before. {73} The daily matins at six o'clock, the Litany at nine, and the full Mass service at twelve, all seemed as if we were suddenly transplanted into some other age of the church, when she understood and realized her heavenly mission better than in these later days. Every day after the reading of the Gospel, all joined in a solemn profession of the old Nicene faith; then the Holy Sacrifice was offered, and all were allowed to partake of the Holy Mysteries." * * * * * "Baltimore, _June_ 9, 1845. "When the ordination is appointed, if possible, I will let you know; and if you are disposed to treat me better than I did you, I should be truly glad to see you here on that occasion. At all events, my dear Dwight, do not forget to pray for me. I regret exceedingly that the advantage of the regular Ember season will be lost to me, for I feel in need of all the assistance which the united prayers of the Holy Church might be expected to procure. As soon after my ordination as may be, I wish to go to work in such a department as may be assigned me by the will of God and the direction of the bishop. I wish not 'to choose my way,' but as far as possible to submit to the direction of others, my superiors; for that I believe to be the very secret of ministerial influence. In my case, however, there can hardly be any trial of virtue in this course, for with such a bishop as God has placed over us, submission is no sacrifice. I have deliberately resolved to maintain a single life, and acquainted the bishop with my determination. I think he approved of my resolution, though he dissuaded me from taking a vow to that effect. Although I acquiesced in his advice, yet I shall consider myself from the date of my ordination pledged to preserve that state, by the grace of God. All this is strictly between ourselves, for I abhor to _talk_ about such things. I consider this a matter, in our Church at least, of strictly individual choice, and while I have no hesitation myself in adopting the course I have mentioned, I should despise myself and think but poorly of my own motives, if I should ever think less of another for exercising differently his Christian liberty." * * * * * {74} The foregoing extracts are taken from letters written before the time of my leaving Baltimore, and of course, therefore, before the thought of joining the Catholic Church had entered any of our minds. Those which follow were written at various times during the period of seven years, between 1846 and 1853, which was the period of transition in Mr. Baker's mind, ending in his conversion. "Baltimore, _July_ 9, 1846. "Every thing has been remarkably quiet in Baltimore for the last month. There seems to be nothing of the excitement that for a while prevailed on the subject of 'Roman tendencies' and 'perversions.' I know not whether the 'Few Thoughts' of Mr. H., which is just published here, and which I suppose you have seen, will awaken controversy; but should suppose not, from the occasion and nature of the publication, it being merely an explanation of his own course, and written immediately on the determination to take that course. I have heard the pamphlet spoken of as 'a weak production,' as 'doing Mr. H. no credit.' Are we not too apt to speak so of the work of an opponent? Of course the essay is not a learned and systematic argument, nor does it profess to be so; but it is (as it appears to me) honest, to the point, and well expressed. I speak this of the production: as an argument, it of course resolves into the great Roman plea of _Visible Unity_. "I understand that a Mr. ----, a presbyter of our Church, and alumnus of the General Theological Seminary, made his public abjuration of Protestantism in St. Mary's Chapel, on Sunday last. I suppose you have seen the account of ----'s defection. I was told, a few days ago, that ---- has made up his mind to 'go;' but as it was a Roman Catholic who told me, I did not know but he might be misled. {75} Do you know any thing about it? I received, a few days ago, a letter from H. It was merely a friendly letter, without controversy, describing his mode of life, written very cheerfully and kindly. It will give me pleasure to show it to you when you come to Baltimore to see me, to which visit I look forward with great pleasure. We will then talk about all these strange events and times, and on our thoughts and feelings concerning them. Adieu, adieu, my dear friend. Let us keep close to each other; but first, close to God, and in all things obedient to His will. Again adieu, my dear, good friend." It is easy for one who knew intimately the writer of this letter to see that his heart was sad and disquieted when he wrote it, although he does not directly say so; especially from the unusual warmth and tenderness of his expressions of attachment to his friend. About two months after he wrote it, the time came for him to pass his examination for priest's orders. The circumstances under which his examination took place redoubled this disquiet, and caused him to hesitate much about receiving ordination. In the course of his examination, he was asked if he accepted the Thirty-nine Articles. It appears that he was not able to accept the reasoning of Tract No. 90, upon which he must have gone at his ordination to the diaconate, and accordingly he replied boldly that he rejected some of the Articles, and could not in any way give his assent to them. I do not know how many of them he qualified in this way; but I know that one of them was the thirty-first, as to its second section: "Wherefore, the Sacrifices of Masses, in the which it was commonly said that the priest did offer Christ for the quick and the dead, to have remission of pain and guilt, were blasphemous fables and dangerous deceits;" and I think, that, another was the twenty-second: "Of Purgatory," etc. {76} A discussion arose among his examiners upon the propriety of passing him. The bishop endeavored to waive the whole question, and succeeded in preventing his rejection. The rector of St. Peter's, who was the chairman of the committee, and whose duty it was to present the candidates, declined, however, to present Mr. Baker, though, with a singular inconsistency, he privately urged him to be ordained. Mr. Baker almost resolved to stop where he was, and regretted afterward that he had not done so. He suffered himself, however, to be overruled by the authority and persuasion of the bishop, and as Dr. Wyatt also excused himself from taking the responsibility of presenting him, he was presented by another presbyter, and ordained on the 20th of September, 1846. His health as well as his spirits were impaired by these troubles; and, therefore, a short time afterward he made a trip to the North, in order to recreate both body and mind, and with the hope of driving away, by change of scene, the unpleasant thoughts which haunted him. In this he was in a measure successful. He appears to have made a resolute determination to throw himself into his ministry, and to put away all doubt from his mind. He went in search of all that was attractive and encouraging in his own communion, and his letter, giving an account of his trip, shows that his attachment to it was deepened and renewed by the impression made on him by the beautiful churches, the tasteful and decorous services, and the agreeable, intellectual men of congenial spirit with himself, described by him in such a pleasing style. It was after this journey that he wrote to me, expressing a firm determination to adhere to his chosen position, assigning for his chief reason the "signs of life" which he saw in the Episcopal Church; and he soon after, as I have said, dropped his correspondence with me, as one separated from him by a barrier which was never to be passed over. {77} "Baltimore, _November_ 10, 1846. "I enjoyed my visit to the North quite as much as your or my own expectations promised. I think the jaunt was in every way beneficial to me. I spent a week delightfully in New York, where a new world, as it were, of churches was opened to me, and had a most happy (what I call) _heart_ visit to Troy. But you will expect to hear particulars. To commence with the commencement, then, what shall I say of Trinity Church? In some respects it is far beyond my conceptions. The first impression was really overpowering. It was on Saturday morning, and but for a few minutes, and it seemed to me that both externally and internally the building was most majestic and beautiful. I next saw it on Sunday morning, to great advantage. It was communion day, and fourteen priests in their surplices were in attendance (the Convention having adjourned late the night before). The church was full, but very orderly--the music grave and fine--though I confess to you (pardon my ignorance and temerity) it was not exactly as I should have liked. It seemed to me to want _impressiveness_ or _expression_. It was neither soothing, nor, _to me_, very grand. Dr. ---- preached. I never saw the Holy Communion celebrated and _administered_ in any church with so fine effect. The scene, when the choir was filled with the worshippers waiting for their turn to receive, was truly majestic. On that day I went away with a most agreeable impression. After I had been there, how ever, in the week, and especially as I became familiar with it, I was very conscious of the great defect and coldness of the chancel. The meanness of the altar is positively too bad; and the _unmeaningness_ of the heavy altar-screen is curious. The window is not just up my taste; but I do not think so badly of it as some do. On the whole, I think there can be no doubt that the chancel is a failure; but the nave is very fine, and the doorway, the organ-gallery, the organ, the tower, and the side-porches most beautiful. {78} On the afternoon of the Sunday, I went to Grace Church, listened to the music---exquisite _of its kind_--saw the images!!! looked at the church, and examined the stained windows. I cannot agree with you about this building. Certainly it has some beauties. The external appearance is very fine, and the single figure of our Blessed Lord, in the east window, beautiful; but I must say that the whole of the interior presented to me a look of _finery_, and an absence of solemnity, most unpleasant in the sanctuary. The windows were simply distressing. It will seem very Protestant after this to say it, but still it is true, that the church looked very like a Roman Catholic Church to me; perhaps it would be truer to say _Romish_, for it seemed to me in keeping with some things we call by this name. I was disappointed in Grace Church; for I went prepared to like it, from your representation, and from my confidence in your taste. "Next in order of my seeing, but really, perhaps, first of all, is the Church of the Holy Communion. This is really a gem. I was there at evening prayer on a week-day, and I left with a grateful heart that it was granted me to worship there. I am not much of an architect, but the building seemed to me _perfect_. I at least had no fault to find with it. The services were read at the chancel rail. The canticles were chanted with the organ accompaniment. It was at once solemn and very beautiful. I said I had no fault to find. Perhaps that is too much. I do think there is an absence of warmth in the colors of the church, and of a certain grace and brightness about the chancel, which would be entirely obviated by substituting, instead of the present altar, a white or colored marble one of the same size, adorned with candlesticks and covered with a lace cloth. This, however, is to make it a _perfect_ church for my eye, and I am not at all sure that I am right. {79} "I said Troy was the most agreeable place I had visited. You will not need to be told what it was which gave it this interest: the Church of the Holy Cross. Oh, how glorious that enterprise is! How perfectly devotional and elevating those services! I was made very, very happy by this visit. It seemed unearthly, and it seemed, too, a promise of better and holier days, a harbinger of returning glory to our depressed Church. Could you not introduce this service into the college. It is worth a very great effort. Nothing else can produce such an effect as the choral service. With the material you have, I should not think it would be impossible, and at nothing short of this ought you to stop. I formed a valuable acquaintance with, and had the pleasure of visiting all the clergy of the place, who are remarkably united, and who received me with Southern warmth and cordiality. I was at the Church of the Holy Cross as often as it was possible for me to be there, you may be sure, and left it at the last with real regret. I consider this visit alone fully repaid me for the journey." * * * * * From this time there is not a trace of disquietude with his position to be observed in his correspondence, until 1849. Under date of February, 1847, he writes to his friend, who, as it appears from his own declarations, was the only intimate friend he had among his brother clergymen: "I still write now and then to H., but there is such a restriction on the freedom of thought and expression in speaking to him, that I have but very little interest in the correspondence; indeed I think it hardly likely long to continue; but from you there is no need or wish on my part to conceal any thing. * * * * * I _long_ to leave St. Paul's. I do not say this to anyone here, for nothing is gained of talking; but to you I say that I am obliged constantly to fall back on the reflection that, until some other way is opened, my duty lies here. It is not on account of any disagreeables in my position; but there are peculiar dangers and difficulties attending it, and I cannot help fearing constantly that my life is too easy and too soft to please God. {80} Still I see not which way to move. I think I wish to submit myself entirely to the Divine Will. I hope it will not seem impertinent, dear Dwight, to express a hope that this coming Lent may be a season of strict discipline to us both. Oh, I need it! I cannot tell you how the sense of responsibility concerning the souls of others sometimes alarms me. I can say this to you, without hypocrisy, I trust. I need to be purged by penance very, very much, to be drawn away from pride and vain-glory, and slothfulness and self-will; these are my besetting sins; and to be stirred up to diligent study, to obedience, to humility, to labor, and to prayer. I pray that I may have the grace to fulfil the work which God has put in my heart to undertake this Lent, that He would draw me away from all things else, entirely to be united to Him. It would be a most pleasant thought that we were thus entering on this penitential season together." The following extract from a letter of June 23, 1848, shows the interest which the writer still felt in Mr. Newman:-- "Is it not encouraging to see the stir that has been raised in England about Dr. Hampden's nomination? The secular papers all call the opposition a 'Tractarian Movement.' If they mean by this that none but Tractarians are engaged in it, it is palpably false; but in another sense it is certainly true. I see clearly in the whole matter the fruits of that movement, the greater earnestness and zeal for orthodoxy, _as such_, so different from what would have been exhibited a quarter of a century ago. And whom are we to thank for fixing the brand of heterodoxy upon this man; so that he cannot pass off his sophisms upon an unwary Church, but the great master to worn we once looked up, to whom God gave so clear a vision of the truth and so great a zeal to uphold it? This is the fruit of a seed sown by a hand now raised up against us, one of the many gifts by which we keep him and his great faculties in remembrance, though, alas! 'we now see him no more.'" {81} In one of these letters Mr. Baker speaks of his desire to leave St. Paul's Church for some other field of labor. Nevertheless, he remained there six years out of the eight years of his Protestant ministry. In 1848 he received an invitation to the Church of St. James the Less, a very beautiful and costly, though small church, in the suburbs of Philadelphia, built after the style of the English Benedictine abbey-churches, and fitted up after the manner which delights the Anglo-Catholic heart. This invitation he declined, at the request of his bishop, who was naturally loth to part with him. A proposal was then made that he should found a new parish; and this, I suppose, was the plan afterward carried out at St. Luke's. This plan was postponed from time to time on account of the precarious health of Alfred Baker. Meanwhile, he devoted himself most assiduously to his private religious exercises and to his ministerial labors. I have never known a young clergyman more universally and warmly loved and admired than he was among the people of his communion. He improved sedulously his admirable gifts for preaching, and in a diocese containing a number of excellent preachers, he attained and kept the first rank. His fastidious taste and sense of propriety led him soon to drop the long cassock, and every thing else in outward dress and demeanor which had appeared singular in the first years of his ministry. He avoided controversy and all peculiarities of doctrine in his sermons, and confined himself chiefly to those truths of religion and those practical points which could be received without question by his hearers. Aside from the pastoral intercourse which he had with his people, his life was very retired. He had the ideal of the Catholic priesthood always in view, and this encompassed his discharge of ministerial duties with many practical difficulties. He felt this particularly, as he has often said, in his visits to the sick and dying, on account of the want of the proper sacraments, and the want of a real and recognized sacerdotal relation. {82} He could not help feeling always that while theoretically he regarded himself as a Catholic priest, in point of fact he was but a Protestant minister, compelled to fall back on a system of subjective pietism, based on Lutheran doctrine, to which he had an invincible repugnance, and in which his hands were tied. Meanwhile events were progressing in the English Church and producing their reflex action in this country. On the one hand, the Oxford movement was still going forward under new leaders, and on the other, the Protestant character of the Anglican Establishment and its American colony was exhibiting itself every day more and more decisively. The first great wave that had rolled toward Catholicity had cast up those who were foremost on its crest on the Rock of Peter. Another wave was rolling forward in the same direction, which was destined to bear on its summit still more of those who floated on the great sea of doubt and error to the same secure refuge. The first converts were given up to obloquy, and their influence in every possible way lowered or destroyed, by belittling their character, if that was possible, or, if not, by inventing specious reasons to show that the course they had taken was the result of some personal idiosyncrasy, and not the just consequence of their Catholic principles. It was stoutly asserted that the movement was not responsible for them, and that it did not of itself lead to Rome. It began again afresh with new men, new books, new projects. Again there was an advanced party; and in due time this advanced party began to move Romeward, denying as before that it would ever actually arrive at Rome. Nevertheless, many of its members, some of very high character and position, did eventually follow the earlier converts over to the Catholic Church. Others, especially those who were in stations of dignity and authority, began to recoil and retract, and call back their followers to the safer ground of the old High Church. {83} In this country there was a sad lack of earnestness and reality on the part of the majority of those who had yielded themselves to Oxford influences, and these influences were but faintly felt by the laity. Mr. Baker was, however, deeply and sadly in earnest. He had schooled himself into submission to his _soi-disant_ Church and bishop, and resolutely determined to believe that he could think, act, and live up to Catholic doctrines and laws where he was. He had thrown himself anew into Anglicanism, putting faith in its new leaders and the old ones who remained, and confiding in the reality and success of their efforts. Long and wearily he struggled to hold out in this course, in spite of the daily increasing evidence that it was delusive and hopeless. For long years he was tossed backward and forward on the waves of doubt and uncertainty, sometimes almost gaining a foothold on the Rock, and then dashed again backward into the sea. Most persons, whether they are Catholics or Protestants, will wonder that Mr. Baker, having approached at first, by almost a single bound, so near the very threshold of the Catholic Church, should have waited and hesitated so long before taking the final step over its border. Those who have not felt it can hardly understand the strong spell by which the system so ably advocated by the Oxford divines captivated many minds. To those who were deeply imbued with certain Catholic prepossessions, and yet not emancipated from the old hereditary prejudice against the Roman Church, it offered a compromise which allowed them to cherish their prepossessions and yet remain in the reformed Church, where they were at home and among their friends, and free to select some and reject other Catholic doctrines and usages, according to their own private judgment and taste. It pretended to give them "a Catholicity more Catholic, and an antiquity more ancient" than those of the ancient, universal mother and mistress of churches herself. {84} Once seduced by this specious pretence, there was no end to the ingenious arguments, wire-drawn distinctions, fine-spun theories, and plausible special pleading by which they were detained under its influence. The theory has infinite variations, and a flexibility which accommodates itself to every form of doctrine, from the lowest tolerated in the Episcopal ministry to the highest advocated in the _Union Review_. This influence on the mind and conscience is a very injurious one, and tends to disable them from reasoning and deciding, in a plain and direct manner, on broad and general principles. Mr. Baker became aware of this afterward, and regretted that he had permitted himself to be swayed so much by the authority of others instead of following the dictates of his own judgment and conscience. It is impossible for me to say whether he was dilatory in following the inspirations of divine grace or not. No one but God can certainly judge how much time is necessary in any individual case for the full maturing of the convictions into a distinct and undoubting faith. One thing I can assert, however, with confidence, and I believe that every one who reads the ensuing extracts from Mr. Baker's letters will share the same conviction: that he never deliberately quenched the light of the Divine Spirit, or refused to follow it from any worldly and unworthy motives. He sought for wisdom by study, prayer, and a pure life, and although he was slow in arriving at a full determination, yet he made a continual progress toward it; and when he reached it, he did not shrink from any sacrifice which obedience to God and his conscience required of him. In a letter under the date of June 4, 1849, after speaking of the probability of his leaving St. Paul's, and the uncertainty he was in in regard to his future plans, which were interfered with by the ill-health of his brother, he thus writes: {85} "I missed you at the Convention; indeed, there are several reasons why I did not enjoy myself at that time. It seemed to me that there were but one or two with whom I had any real sympathy. There was very little done. The bishop could not be present on account of indisposition. K. read the bishop's charge. It was able, but _thoroughly_ and _strongly_ Protestant. The position it took was perfectly unequivocal; and it places certain people, whose position before was sufficiently uncomfortable, in a most painful predicament. He shuts us up to the very sense of the Articles and Prayer-Book, _as understood by the Reformers;_ and tells those who cannot submit to this, who are willing not to _contradict_ that sense, but do not _believe_ it, he tells them very plainly that they are obliged to leave a ministry for which they are no longer competent. The charge convinces me either that we have heretofore misunderstood the bishop, or that he has fixed himself upon a new platform. He now makes the Protestant element in our Church's teaching (which is certainly the most prominent one in her history) the most authoritative and controlling. It appears to me that he might as well have said at once that the Church of England was _founded_ at the Reformation. May God teach us what we ought to do." I have been told by Mr. Baker that the bishop, on some occasion, sent him his charge to look over, with the request that he would read it for him at the Convention, and that he declined reading it, on account of his strong objection to the doctrine it contained. I suppose that this must have been the charge in question. I find no other letter from this date until January 9, 1850, under which date he writes at length, and begins to unbosom himself more freely than he had done before: "There was something in your last letter which was particularly refreshing to me. It seemed like old times, and brought an assurance of sympathy when I had begun deeply to feel the want of it. You say that my letter was not so full or like myself as some others. There was a reason why it was not so, and the same reason has delayed the answer to your last kind favor. {86} I have had many painful and distressing thoughts, which I hardly knew how to express to any one; and it seemed a wrong and cruelty to grieve one's friends when every catholic-minded brother had so much to bear on his own account. Now that I have decided upon the course I will take, I can write more calmly, and with less risk of perplexing others. You will guess the cause of anxiety. My conviction of the truth and holiness of Catholic doctrines has not diminished since I saw you; my apprehension of what I hold is firmer and more distinct; my prejudice against some things which the Roman Church holds as catholic truths, but which we deny, has been shaken; and while this was enough to make my present position in some respects uncomfortable, the longing for a fuller measure of catholic privileges, the want of sympathy, the uncertainty, dissension, and mutability among us, and the awful greatness of the claims and promises of Rome, made me willing to entertain the thought of changing my ecclesiastical relations. On looking back upon this state of feeling, there was much that was wrong. I felt in many ways the results of past unfaithfulness; I was confused and perplexed; I was doubtful of my own sincerity. Sometimes every thing seemed uncertain to me. But whatever were the causes, and whatever the characteristics of my state of mind, I felt, upon a careful examination of myself that the only proper course for me to pursue was to institute a candid and diligent search into the claims of the Roman Church to be _the_ Holy Catholic Church. All her claims seem to resolve themselves into that of the supremacy of the See of St. Peter, and I accordingly resolved to confine my investigations to that point. I communicated my determination to the bishop last week, and asked him whether I could continue to officiate while I was engaged in such a course. He thought I could and ought, and offered me every assistance in his power, in the way of books, advice, etc. He was wonderfully kind and forbearing, but firm in assuring me that investigation of the point would but end in conviction of the untenableness of the Roman claim. {87} I have felt calmer since I acted thus, and propose to enter forthwith upon the study of this question, keeping it as clear as I can of exterior matters, and pushing it, if I may, to a decision. I need not, I know, ask of you the charity to continue your prayers for the Divine blessing and guidance to your perplexed friend." "_Tuesday Night_. "You will understand, from what I have been telling you of the thoughts which have occupied my mind for some time past, how the various events in the Church during the last few months have affected me. With regard to ----'s departure, I confess it was the deepest grief to me, and, in connection with other circumstances, did much to distress and unsettle me. It is one of the most afflicting things about the present controversies, these separations between friend and friend, between master and disciple; yet I know that even this is to be borne meekly and obediently, if we cannot see it to be our _imperative duty_ to follow those we have loved and lost; and now that I have undertaken in a rational way to satisfy myself on this point I can think more calmly of our isolation and bereavement. To return to more Protestant ground (I know that it does not suit unlearned people to say what they will do, but) I feel is impossible. My conviction of the truth of the system (in opposing and barking at which Protestantism has its life and occupation) continually increases; but I think I feel that if I could be persuaded that the Divine Will made it to be my duty to remain where I am, I could submit to all the difficulties and privations of our position uncomplainingly and even cheerfully. "Bishop Ives's movement, so far as it was intended to introduce the general practice of auricular confession, had my unrestrained sympathy. How far he meant to go in asserting its _necessity_, I confess myself unable to determine; but anyhow, I think he went farther than Protestant Episcopalianism will bear him out in going. {88} It was an infinite relief to me when he came out as boldly as he did; and now that he has presented the subject anew to the Church, I feel assured that the Church will be obliged to meet the question. I confess I do not feel very hopeful as to the issue of the controversy, for it seems to me that nothing short of a miracle could dispose the mass of our people to the practice of confession. The High Churchmen will be as opposed to it as the Low Churchmen. Maryland will kick as much as Ohio. But _nous verrons_." Some time after the date of this letter, Mr. Baker made a voyage to Bermuda with his brother Alfred, who was now in a deep and hopeless decline. He returned some time in the early part of the ensuing summer. One day, either a little before or a little after this voyage, I accidentally met him as I was out walking. I had returned once more to Baltimore, and was making my novitiate at the House attached to St. Alphonsus' Church. It was now nearly five years since I had seen my former friend, and three since I had received any letters from him. I was startled and pleased at our unexpected rencontre, and at the light of friendship which I saw in his face and eyes; but the pain of being separated from him was renewed. Mr. Lyman came to see me, one day, during the spring of 1850; and was much more frank and cordial in his manner than Mr. Baker, who kept a close vail of reserve over his heart until the last. I inquired of him particularly about Mr. Baker, whether he had made any retrograde movement, &c. He replied that he had rather advanced, and had become more spiritual in his preaching, advised me to visit him, and on my objecting to this on the ground that a visit might be intrusive and unwelcome, assured me of the contrary. It was through his influence that some degree of intercourse was from this time re-established between Mr. Baker and myself. A subsequent letter of Mr. Baker speaks of his visiting me, and also describes his visit to Bermuda in the following terms. The letter is dated October 24, 1850:-- {89} "On my return from Bermuda, I found your kind and interesting letter, and felt grateful to you for the friendship which you have now continued to me for several years. I am sorry not to have seen you when you were in Baltimore, and in fact that was the only regret I felt on account of my absence from home at the time of the Convention. The Convention itself I have ceased to look forward to with any pleasure. The truth is, it always saddens me to mingle at all with the clergy promiscuously. I feel that there is so little sympathy between us, that the sense of loneliness is forced upon me more distinctly than when I keep to myself altogether. But I do not mean to write gloomily to a friend with whom I communicate so seldom, and indeed I do not _complain_ of the want of sympathy which I feel, or blame others for it. I know that the cause of it is in myself, and I acknowledge with gratitude the great degree of indulgence, kindness, and forbearance with which I have been universally treated. "I have felt happier lately, though I do not know why I should, for I cannot say that I have gained a satisfactory position; and when I think of dying, anxious thoughts come across me; but I have been pursuing (as my occupation allows me) my investigations into the question of the supremacy, and I wish to abide by the result, without being swayed by feeling one way or another. I have read Newman's Discourses since I received your letter. They are like all that he writes, thoughtful, earnest, holy, and deeply impressive; but I think they differ from his Parochial Sermons in having the appearance of more excited feeling, and in being more affectionate in their tone. He seems to write under a pressing anxiety to influence those he addresses, and he opens his heart more than he did of old. I think this accounts in part for an objection which I have heard brought against them, that they are not so strictly logical. {90} He seems to me possessed with that proselyting spirit which has always appeared to me to be so divine a token about the Church of Rome, as if the constant reflection of his mind was, 'What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?' "I was deeply interested in the account of your visit to H. I too saw H., but only for a moment. We met on the road, and he stopped most kindly, and we had a minute's conversation. Of course there was nothing but commonplace. I know not how he felt, but I felt very sad. "You may imagine that I have looked with no little interest at the progress of ecclesiastical affairs in England. The secessions lately have made a tremendous excitement--more so, I really think, than those in 1845, perhaps on account of the 'present distress.' "I have not much of interest to tell you about Bermuda. You know it is an English colony, and I saw there for the first time the workings of the English Church. In every thing except the Morning and Evening Prayer, I think we have the advantage, particularly excepting the latter. The clergy I found a hard-working set of men, frank and cordial, and very much interested and well informed in matters relating to our Church. The churches are very plain, but have a quiet, grave, soothing air about them, the clergy mostly 'High Church,' but not after our sort, and the people seemed to me to be almost entirely devoid of a Church tone and spirit, though not irreligious. Dissent is very rife, and, I fancy, influences even members of the Church. They have a noble-hearted bishop, Bishop Field, austere, self-denying, devout, hard-working, and charitable, and by his assistance they are building a very handsome church on the island; but I found that he was not popular, that even his mode of life was objected to: he was called a _Puseyite_. I did not preach while I was there, but I assisted several of the clergy at the services, and once at the holy communion, in which I found the omission of 'the oblation' to have a most painful effect upon my feelings. {91} "I was very glad to get so full and gratifying account of your church. I do indeed congratulate you on its completion. I think you have done wonders, with so many difficulties, to succeed in so short a time, and I sincerely hope that you may find your zeal and labor repaid by an increase of your congregation, and of true devotion and earnestness among them. From your description of the church I thought it must be a very magnificent edifice, quite beyond York Minster and churches of that size; and to see so famous a building, and still more to see the kind, warm friend who ministers within it, would be so great a pleasure, that you must not be surprised if some old friends should some time make a pilgrimage there." "_January_ 27, 1851. "I often feel what a relief it would be to open one's heart, and to have the sympathy and counsel of a friend who can understand one's views and feelings. But it is impossible to do so by letter, because one shrinks from coolly writing down one's thoughts, which would be expressed without effort in the warmth and freedom of conversation. Since the receipt of your letter I saw H. I had determined not to seek him, but about the beginning of this month he called on me. He was kind, but the visit was not agreeable: it was _awkward_. I returned his visit last week, and enjoyed being in his society. I talked with him as guardedly as I could while using any degree of frankness and cordiality. I could not consent to postpone my visit to him, as I had reason to believe that his coming to see me was providential, to assist me in the matter in which I am laboring, viz., to ascertain the Catholic Church. I asked him several questions concerning the Papal supremacy, which he answered very readily and with great ability. {92} He gave me some assistance in pursuing my inquiries, and I promised to see him again before long. I came away feeling better for having been with him, and with a heavy conviction on my mind how little share I had in the blessing of the pure in heart. "I find very little time to study. The duties which devolve upon me take so much of my attention, that I could find it in my heart to throw them up, were I not advised otherwise by the bishop. Besides, I know that it is only by humility and obedience and fidelity that we can arrive at the truth. O Dwight! again I ask your prayers in my behalf, especially for earnestness in seeking the truth, to make the holy vow, 'I will not climb up into my bed, nor suffer my eyelids to take any rest, until' I have an obedient spirit to obey God's will, _directly_ it is made known. "The course of Church matters is to me increasingly unsatisfactory. The anti-Papal movement has placed the Church of England on decidedly worse ground, if indeed it has not bound her to that decision, on rejecting which her Catholicity seems to be suspended. I do think that, after all that has happened, for bishops and people to be crying up the royal supremacy looks like accepting that supremacy to the full extent to which it has lately been claimed. What did you think of Mr. Bennett's course? To say the truth, I was not satisfied with his letters, though I felt a sympathy with the man. Pray can you tell me what ground there is for the assertion that Archdeacon Manning and Mr. Dodsworth have resigned and are on their way to Jerusalem?" * * * * * Some time after this, Mr. Baker was appointed rector of the new parish of St. Luke's, where he remained until he gave up the Protestant ministry, that is, for about two years. During his rectorship he removed to a pleasant residence near the site of the church, and employed himself in building a tasteful Gothic church, which he proposed to finish and decorate in accordance with his own idea of ecclesiastical propriety. {93} It was only partially completed at the time he left it. His next letter to Mr. Lyman, who was now progressing rapidly toward the Catholic Church, and urging forward his slower footsteps, is dated "_Tuesday in Holy Week, April_ 15, 1851. "I read your letter with a great deal of emotion, and was prompted to sit down and say a word in reply immediately; but as I have gone to St. Luke's, there were some duties devolving upon me which took up my time more than is usual with me. You may be assured of my sympathy in much that you feel and express. I do think that the statements of Allies's book are of a kind which ought to make a profound impression upon us, and which ought to modify very much the feelings with which we have been taught to regard the Roman communion; and I _do_ think honestly that our Church is at present in a miserable condition, and that no good can come of denying it. As you say, it becomes at such a time a very solemn question, in view of eternity, _what we ought to do_. My dear Dwight, I think I am sincere when I say that to me the way of duty seems to take pains and make such an investigation as I can into the question upon which the claim of _authority_ rests, and to abide by the result: meanwhile to live in prayer and upon such catholic truth as we are permitted to hold, imploring God to take pity upon us, and to look upon his distracted people. H. recommended me a treatise on the supremacy by the brothers Ballerini, but I find that I do not read Latin with such facility as to reap the full benefit of the perusal of such a work at present. I have therefore taken up Kenrick on the Primacy. With regard to my duties as a minister, I have thought it right to be directed from without, and I was passive in accepting St. Luke's, which was strongly urged upon me. Surely we may hope that if we faithfully and devoutly, and in a spirit of humility and obedience, work with our intention constantly directed to God's glory and the salvation of souls, He will bless and guide us. {94} It was a comfort to me to think you remembered me and my difficulties in your Lenten exercises, and I assure you that you have been constantly remembered by your perplexed friend. I feel afraid of myself and of my own heart--afraid of taking a wrong step, afraid on account of my past sins, afraid when I look forward to the judgment of our dear Lord; and you may be sure that I find prayer my greatest comfort, the belief in the intercession of our Blessed Mother and the saints in heaven, as well as in the value of the supplications of Christians on earth, a source of real strength. Pray for me, my dear friend, that I may be enabled sincerely to appeal to God and say that His Church is the first object of my heart, and that I may be diligent and studious and obedient to His grace and to conscience. "I see the English papers constantly, and they are full of interest. We know not what is before us; these are heart-stirring times, and we can but adore the counsel of God by which we were born in them, and anxiously seek to take the right course amid so many perplexities. I have recently read Dr. Pusey's letter to the Bishop of London. It is a very able letter, and one calculated to rouse the feelings of the Catholic-minded men in England. I confess it made me feel more hopeful. "If it is _our duty_ to remain where we are, it is a noble thing to be called to labor amid so many discouragements, and, surrounded by temptations, to keep the Catholic Faith whole and inviolate! Every day I feel a stronger repugnance to Protestantism, and a determination by God's help to carry out my principles consistently; but with regard to the Roman Catholic Church, I do not see how intellectually it can dispense with the theory of development, and I feel a strong suspicion of that theory. I went to see H. again, but he was in New York, and will not be back until after Easter. {95} "I feel that I am in a difficult and dangerous situation, but I have the comfort of knowing that I have the advice of the bishop to do as I am doing; and if I can be sure of God's blessing, by watchfulness and strictness and faithfulness I may yet be happy. I have written confidentially, and all about myself, but you will forgive me. The bell rings for prayers. Good-by." "_August_ 4, 1851. "You will be anxious to know the impression made upon my mind by what I have been reading on the Roman Catholic question. On the whole, many difficulties that lay in the way have been removed, and the claims of the Roman See appear far more strongly supported by antiquity than I had ever dreamed of before. Kenrick's is, I think, a very strong book, although it has a very apologetic air; yet there was a great deal in it which seemed to me very forcible. But the book which made altogether the most decided impression on my mind was 'The Unity of the Episcopate.' The _principle_ of unity was there unfolded in a way that was new to me, and which I think does away with a whole class of passages (and they the strongest) which are usually alleged against the Papacy. * * * * * "I find my greatest want to be the want of earnestness and a spiritual mind. My dear Dwight, this is not cant. I want you to pray that God would not take his Holy Spirit from me. I desire above all things to be a Catholic, and I am resolved by God's help not to give up the present investigation until I am satisfied about my duty, which at present I am not, but very, very much harassed and perplexed. May God in his good time grant us both to see clearly the way we ought to take. I saw H. a few weeks ago, and had a pleasant interview. He thinks it possible that he will leave Baltimore in September. I have sometimes felt lately as if a _decision_ of the great question was not far off. Oh, that it may be a wise and true decision!" {96} A few weeks after writing this letter, Mr. Baker came very near making a decision to give up his ministry and place himself under the instruction of a Catholic priest. His conviction was not yet fully matured, or his doubts quite removed, and the wisest course would have been for him to have gone into a complete retirement for a while, in order to complete his studies, and allow his mind and conscience time to ripen into a decision. He communicated his state of mind to the bishop, and was so far overruled by him as to consent to wait a while longer, and postpone his decision. He informs his friend of all that took place at this crisis, in a long and deeply interesting letter of thirteen pages, from which I shall only make a few extracts. It is dated November 11, 1851, and is full of affection, of sadness, and of the tremulous breathings of a sensitive, delicate conscience, deeply troubled by anxiety and fear, almost ready to seek repose in the bosom of the Church, but driven back by doubt to struggle yet longer with adverse winds. He says at the beginning of his letter: "First let me thank you again for your expressions of kindness and affection. I assure you I thank you for them, and feel that they, together with the friendship which has lasted so long, give you a claim on my confidence and love. Nor have I been unmindful of the claim, for I have constantly thought of you, and often invoked God's aid in your behalf; and if I have not written often, it is because I am myself in great perplexity, and feel the responsibility which attaches to every word, uttered at a time like this, on subjects which concern the salvation of ourselves and others also. This was my feeling when I last wrote. I felt as if I wanted a little _recollection_ before I could write as I wished on some points; and as I was then much occupied, I deferred writing fully until some other time. However, your letter to-day demands an immediate answer, and I proceed to give you an answer to your inquiries, and a faithful transcript of my feelings, and pray God that you may receive no injury from one who would do you good." {97} He states the result of his studies quite at length, summing it up in these words, which I quote as an accurate index of the degree of conviction he had at that time reached: "The result of my thought and reading last summer was to strengthen my impression that the claims of the Roman Catholic Church on the obedience of all Christians are divine. I cannot say I felt perfectly assured." After describing his interview with the bishop, and informing his friend that he had consented to _wait_, he says: "I think I agreed to this from the fear of offending God, and from that alone. As to the frown of the world, I do not think it decided me, for I had looked the consequences of the act full in the face, and had accepted them. I was the more ready to wait, because I could not say _I had no doubt_ of the propriety of secession." The sequel of the letter and of its writer's history shows that this doubt was not a rational doubt, but a morbid irresolution and timidity of mind, which ought to have been disregarded. Consequently, in giving way to it, he simply fell back into a state in which he had just to go over again the same ground, and this discouraged and disheartened him, as he frankly acknowledges. "I felt a sense of relief, partly, I believe, from having opened my mind, and partly, I suspect, at finding that the sacrifice to which I had looked forward was not then demanded. But when I considered the matter, I saw that I was just where I was before, with the whole question before me and resting on my decision. From week to week I have been willing to postpone looking my position in the face, seeking to excuse myself to my conscience by the plea of the many unavoidable demands on my time and thoughts which a new parish and a church just commenced seem to make; although I feel that the danger of such a course is that I may sink into a worldly, indifferent thing, seeking in the praise of men a reward for my treachery to God. {98} I have seen H. but once since I saw the bishop. The visit was more constrained, because I felt I ought not to betray my feelings; indeed, I would not go to see H. unless I were afraid of resisting some design which God may have formed for me--because the intercourse has not been of my seeking, and this appearance of deceit and double-dealing is dreadful to me, and makes me feel as if I were guilty. "I have not read any thing since my interview with the bishop. My plan is to wait and seriously consider what I ought to do. I need not tell you I am not happy. I am free from many of the annoyances which distress you, as I read no R. C. papers, and scarcely any of our own, and have no associate. I strive to live by the rule recommended by Dr. Pusey, and am almost as much isolated from Protestants as if there were none in our communion. I believe most firmly in the Sacrifice of the Mass, in the Real Presence, in the Veneration of Relics, in the Mediation of the Saints, and especially of St. Mary. I constantly beseech God to hear her supplications in my behalf, and only do not invoke her because I am not sure of the authority for doing so. I believe also in Purgatory. My difficulties are on the subject of Church authority and the Supremacy. My sympathy in doctrine, my reverence for the holy men who have gone out from us, _my strong prepossessions in favor of the Roman Catholic Church, which have never left me at any period of my life_, and the distress among us, all draw me to Rome; but the single question I ask myself (or strive to do so) is, whether any of these things ought to decide me, and whether the point of inquiry ought not to be--What is the Church? Partly on account of my position, and partly, dear Dwight, on account of grave deficiencies and sins in myself, I feel that I am full of inconsistencies, contradictions, apparent insincerities (perhaps real), presumptuous and fearful at the same time, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, not fully persuaded in my own mind, and not bending all my energies to become so. {99} And now, my dear Dwight, I have only opened my heart to you, without at all thinking of the effect it would have upon you. Simply seeking, as in duty bound, to deal with you as a friend, I have let you somewhat into my heart--only somewhat, for I deeply feel that to a full understanding of my state of feeling, even in reference to this subject, it would be needful that I should kneel down and humbly confess (as it would be a comfort to do) all the many offenses in word and deed of a sinful and tangled life. I have humbled myself before you. I know not how it shall be hereafter between us, how differently you may soon look upon me from what you have been used to do; but, wherever you are, think of me as a sinner and a penitent, and as one who desires and needs your prayers. * * * * * "And now, my dear friend, I do not think of any thing else which I ought to say to you, but to reciprocate the earnest hope and the conviction that you express, that God Almighty may enable us _together_ to have an abode here in that Ark which He has set up as the place of safety and peace in a lost world, and may give us _together_ an entrance into His Presence forever. May He of His undeserved mercy grant it." During the winter of 1851 and 1852, Mr. Baker was very much occupied with church-building, and also with the cares and anxieties of illness and death in his family, and his attention was thus drawn away in a measure from himself and from the question of the Church. His next letter of interest was written in May, 1852, communicating the intelligence of the death of his aunt and of his brother: "I have no doubt that you have thought your kind and patient letter deserved an earlier answer, but I have been greatly and particularly occupied ever since I received it When it came, Aunt E. was very ill, and our anxiety about her continued to increase until she was taken from us on the 31st of January. {100} Immediately after, dear Alfred began to decline rapidly, and after an interval of some weeks of great suffering on his part, and of watching and sadness on ours, he too was taken on the 9th of April (Good Friday). You, who knew them both, and knew what place they held in our hearts, can imagine the greatness of the bereavement, and the depth of our suffering. God has supported us mercifully, and I heartily thank Him that I have so great a solace in thinking of the character of our dear departed ones; and it is at such times that I feel the consolatory nature of the doctrine of the communion of saints, and the comfort of the practice of praying for the dead. To you, who know so much of my feelings, I will not deny that the uncertainty which rests upon the question of the Church has disturbed the fixedness of my hope and faith during this sorrowful winter, but I have not been able to advance in its investigation. I now propose to resume my studies as regularly and as perseveringly as my duties will permit. You are much and often in my thoughts, and often do I wish that I could do by you the part of a faithful friend. You always have a part in my prayers, and it would be to me a great happiness to have the assurance one day that my friendship has not been without some benefit to you. I assure you I prize it, and I feel more strongly that I have more in common with you than with anyone else with whom I communicate. I have not the heart nor indeed the time to write more." "_September_ 15, 1852. "I came away from Columbia with many pleasant, affectionate thoughts about you, and grateful recollections of your kindness, and you have often been in my mind since my return. You will be glad to learn that my little jaunt was of decided service to me. I have been improving in health ever since my return, and now feel quite well. I suppose by this time you have been on to the North and have returned, and, like myself, are now quietly settled down to your duties. {101} I found my sisters much benefited by their trip to the sea-shore, and our little household has again resumed its accustomed habits. I need not tell you, dear Dwight, how glad I shall be if you will consent to come on now and pay your promised visit. You might come at the beginning of the week, and I would go and take your Sunday duties (choose a Sunday when service is all day at Columbia), and then I would return on Monday to be with you at home another week. I cannot promise to do you good, but I can offer you, at least, what you will not receive elsewhere, true and affectionate sympathy. I do most deeply feel for you in your anxieties, and in much, in _very_ much, I feel with you. I felt when I was with you, my dear friend (now my only friend), as if the difference between us was this: that you had really come to _a conclusion_, while I was still of a fearful and divided mind. I felt as if there was something dishonorable and disgraceful in such a state of indecision, while there was an appearance of manliness in your boldness and determination, and I was ashamed of myself. Besides, I found myself sometimes taking the anti-Roman side in argument with you, and then I was vexed with myself for doing what I did nowhere else, and what I could not do heartily anywhere, and I seemed to myself insincere. I do not know whether you can understand me, but I want you to understand my feelings; for I do not want you to think I _am_ insincere, and I felt so much obliged to you when you told me that you said to H. that you did not think me so. I believe uncertainty often carries the appearance of insincerity; and uncertain I own myself to be, full of sadness, full of doubt. O Dwight, what is there in such a situation to make one remain in it, if one could conscientiously leave it? What could hinder me from being a Roman Catholic but for the fear of doing wrong? I assure you, that as regards this world I have not a hope or desire, and there is nothing earthly which I could not part with this night. {102} Nothing seems to me worth living for but the knowledge of the truth and the love of God; and that position in which I feel I should be the happiest would be where I should be _certain_ what was truth, and could live a life hidden from the world with God. I feel concerned at finding myself writing so much about myself, and in such a strain; but I think, in reading over the letter, you will understand how I came to do it, and will pardon it. "I have been reading lately pretty systematically on the Roman question. De Maistre and Lacordaire I have finished, and will return them to you if you wish them. They are both philosophical rather than theological, and from that fact, as well as from the _French_ way in which they are written, I think they will be less influential with persons brought up in the school with you and me. I thought the remarks of De Maistre on the temporal power of the Popes not near so forcible as those in Brownson's Review. Thompson seems to me now, as he did before, a remarkably cogent and attractive writer. I have not finished his pamphlet as yet, but feel very much interested in it. I have procured Balmez, and Newman on Anglicanism, but have not yet read them. When I was in Philadelphia I saw Mr. ----. He called on Manning when he was in London, and had a very interesting interview. M. is about to publish another edition of his book on the Unity of the Church. I should indeed like to see it, or any thing else that Came from his hand. * * * * * "God bless you, my dear friend; write to me fully and freely as of old, and be sure of the affection of your friend, "F. A. B." {103} "_Ash Wednesday_, 1853. * * * "The general tone of your letter, too, was sad, and that also fell in with my own feelings, for you may be sure that the stirring event of the last month has not been without a great effect on me, agitated as I was before by so many serious doubts. Well, _another_ has gone, and that the most eminent of the party with which you and I have been identified, and you and I remain asking still what we are to do! To me the question has been of late and is now one of absorbing and pressing importance, and yet I do not know how to answer it, and in my perplexity can do nothing but pray--pray, as I have done most earnestly, for direction from on high; and my comfort, dear Dwight, is to know that you also pray for me. What I want is the heart just to stand waiting God's bidding, and, when that is given, to act without delay or taking counsel with the flesh. I should so much like to see Bishop Ives's Reasons, which I suppose will in some way be published. * * * I received the first number of a newspaper from New York, the _Church Journal_ (which is most vociferously anti-Roman). ---- is one of the editors. By the way, ---- is also connected with this paper, and ----. I felt sorry to think of what a different spirit they once were; and yet, if the Church of Rome be not what she claims to be, the position of such men as Bishop Whittingham is the right one, and ours is untenable. However, I cannot but own that I have a drawing toward the Roman Catholic communion so strong that, if I were to be without it, I should feel as if I were not myself. I have not thought it right to go by this feeling, but it is very strong, and I confess I feel _envious_ of Bishop Ives, when I think of him in his new home--a feeling which I often have in reference to dear H., whom I loved and reverenced so truly. (By the way, H., I hear, is either at present in Baltimore, or is about coming here, to conduct a 'mission' in the Cathedral.) I often feel afraid, my dear Dwight, in writing on such subjects, of doing wrong in expressing my feelings and thoughts, and of doing you harm; but after all, it seems not improper for friends such as we are to speak without reserve, and perhaps I have done so too little. {104} "I have been reading a good deal lately. * * * The articles on Cyprian (by Dr. Nevin) were indeed most masterly, and seemed to me to express the true doctrine of antiquity as to the primacy of the Roman See. They have caused a good deal of speculation on my part. I do not see how the writer can fail to become a Roman Catholic. I did not tell you what I thought of Newman's book; it was full of power, many most capital hits and brilliant passages, and, what is better, satisfactory explanations of difficulties. The eleventh lecture seemed to me the least successful, and I own, even after reading it, the position of the Greek Church, based on a theological theory not unlike that which is advocated by Anglo-Catholics, and much the same (as Brownson seems to think) with that held by many Roman Catholics, does seem to me a difficulty. Balmez, too, I have proceeded some way with, and am much interested in. "I thank you for Brownson very much. I have read the number you sent me, and it has set me to thinking. His positions are bold and require some reflection; and though I find in him the consistent expression of much that I think I always believed, yet he presents many new ideas to me. * * * "Adieu to-night, my dear Dwight. May the blessing of Heaven be with you." This was the last of these sad epistles--these outbreathings of a pure and noble, but troubled spirit, enveloped in the obscure night of doubt, and seeking wearily for the light of truth. It was written on the first day of Lent; and when that Lent had passed by, the clouds of mist had lifted from around the soul of Francis Baker, never to return. Before he wrote again to his dear friend, the _coup de-grace_ had been given. The blow was struck suddenly and effectually, and the news of it came unexpectedly, with a startling and almost sunning effect upon his friend, through the following brief and abrupt communication-- {105} "Baltimore, _April_ 5, 1853. "My Dear Dwight:--The decision is made: I have resigned my parish, and am about to place myself under instruction preparatory to my being received into the Catholic Church. I can write no more at present. May God help you. "Your affectionate friend, "Francis A. Baker." This letter was followed by another, written three days after, in reply to one from Mr. Lyman. "My Dear Dwight:--It _was_ cruel in me to write so briefly, but if you knew what a press of duty came upon me just at once, you would pity me, and indeed now I am in such a confusion, that it takes some courage to write a line. But, my dear friend, you have been so great a help to me, that it would be worse than heathen in me not to give you one word of explanation. I decided to submit to the Catholic Church last Sunday night, and gave in my resignation to the vestry on last Tuesday morning. I went to the archbishop, and to-morrow I make my profession in St. Alphonsus' Church, before only two witnesses, the least the rubric requires. This was in compliance with the advice of the Bishop, who did not think it well to give unnecessary publicity to the act. Plain and sufficient arguments had long enough been addressed to my mind, but my conversion at last I owe only to the grace of God. It was the gift of God through Prayers, and now I can say 'Nunc Dimittis'--for 'I believe, O God! all the Holy Truths which Thy Catholic Church proposes to our belief, because Thou, my God, hast revealed them all; and Thy Church has declared them. In this faith I desire to live, and in the same, by Thy holy grace, I am most firmly resolved to die. Amen.' * * * "I shall prepare for the sacraments next week, but beyond that, I have formed no plans. {106} "My dear Dwight, I feel that I have too long resisted God's grace, and it will be one of the sins which I must now repent of. God by His merciful kindness did not suffer me to be abandoned, as, indeed, my resistance of His grace deserved, but kindly pleaded with me, and I am now at the threshold of the kingdom of God. Come with us, dear Dwight, come; God's time is the best time. May our Lord bless you and direct you. Yours affectionately, "Francis A. Baker." This closes the correspondence of Mr. Baker with the dear and valued friend of his youth and manhood, previous to his reception into the Catholic Church; and I have postponed the continuation of my narrative in order to complete my extracts from it, and leave the writer to tell his own touching story to the end. Mr. Baker's conversion was the logical sequence of his former life, both intellectual and spiritual; it was the result of the accumulating light of the eleven preceding years, concentrated and brought to a focus upon the practical question of duty and obligation. The particular events which immediately preceded it, were like the stroke of the hammer on the mould of a bell, already completely cast and finished beneath it, and waiting only the shattering of its earthen shell to ring out with a clear and musical sound. "_The just man is the accuser of himself_," and Mr. Baker, whose deep humility made him unconscious of his own goodness, in the first vivid consciousness that the light which had led him to the Catholic Church was the light of grace, could no longer understand his past state of doubt, and reproached himself for it, as a sinful resistance to God. It is not necessary, however, to suppose that there was any thing grievously culpable in that state of doubt and hesitation. {107} He was right in attributing his final decision to the efficacious grace of the Holy Spirit. But this grace was only the last of a long series of graces which had prepared him to receive it. It did not change, but only perfected his habitual disposition of mind. It produced a crisis and a transformation in his soul, but it was one to which a long and gradual process had been continually tending. It was not a miracle, or a sudden revelation. Careful thought and reading, and the assiduous cultivation of his spiritual faculties had brought him to the apprehension of all the data of a rational judgment that the Catholic Church is true. The apparently sudden moment of deliberation and decision was but the successful effort of the mind and will to come into the certain consciousness of the truth already fairly proposed, and to determine to follow it. It was a supernatural grace which made this effort successful, and elevated the just conclusions of reason to the certitude of faith. But it was not a grace which superseded reason or dispensed with the reasonable grounds and evidences of an intellectual judgment and the motives of a just determination. Mr. Baker must have been drawing near to a decision during the whole of Lent; for his mind was evidently more deeply and earnestly bent on coming to it, when I saw him in Easter Week, than ever. He called on me on the Friday evening of Easter week, and his manner was much changed. His anxiety of mind broke through the reserve he had heretofore maintained, and instead of the guarded and self-controlled manner he had preserved in former interviews, he was abrupt and outspoken. At the very outset, he expressed his feeling that the question of difference between us was one of vital importance, in regard to which one of us must be deeply and dangerously in the wrong, and desired to discuss the matter with me fully. I suppose his intention was to see me more frequently than he had done, to open his mind more fully, and to get from me all the help I could give him in making up his mind. We had a pretty long conversation on theological points, without going into the discussion of fundamental Catholic principles. {108} The truth is, Mr. Baker had already mastered these principles, and was really settled in regard to every essential doctrine. He had no need of further study, but merely of an effort to shake off that kind of doubt which is a mental weakness, and perpetually revolves difficulties and objections which ought not to affect the judgment. The one particular point which we discussed most was in reference to some passages in the writings of St. Augustine concerning the doctrine of Purgatory--a doctrine which he had clearly stated his belief in, two years before. I answered his difficulty as well as I could at the time, promising to examine the matter more fully the next day, and to give him a written answer, which I accordingly did, but too late to be of any service to him, as the sequel will show. I left him with a strong impression that the crisis of his mind was at hand, and for that reason engaged all the members of the community to pray for him particularly. After leaving me, he called on a young lady who was very ill, and had sent for him to visit her. This young lady, who died happily in the bosom of the Catholic Church a few weeks after, had already sent for one of the reverend gentlemen of the Cathedral, and expressed to him her desire to become a Catholic, but had consented, at the request of her family, to have an interview with Mr. Baker before receiving the sacraments. When he came to her bedside, she informed him of her state of mind, and asked him if he had any satisfactory reason to allege why she should not fulfil her wish to be received into the Catholic Church before she died. He told her that he regretted very much that she had chosen to consult with him on that point, as there were reasons why he must decline giving her advice on the subject. She conjured him to tell her distinctly what he thought, and he again replied that he was not able to say any thing to her on the subject. She looked at him earnestly, and said, "I see how it is, Mr. Baker; you are in doubt yourself." Without saying another word, he left the room and the house, transpierced with a pain which he could neither endure nor remove. {109} He turned his steps toward the Cathedral, and walked around it several times, like one not knowing where to go, and then returned to his home and his study to remain in solitude and prayer, through several anxious days and sleepless nights. He was now face to face with the certainty that he dare not promise to anyone else security of salvation in the Episcopal Church. Yet, he was a minister of that Church, and was trusting his own salvation to it. To remain in such a position longer had become impossible to a conscientious man like him. Nevertheless, he went through the duties of Sunday, and again read prayers in his church on the Monday and Tuesday mornings. He had been censured for this, by some, as if he had acted a hypocritical part, but most unjustly. Certainly, if he had asked my advice beforehand, I should have told him that he had no right to do it. But the reader of this narrative will see that his own conscience had been frequently overruled on the question of exercising the ministry in a state of doubt, and on Sunday he was still in this state, undecided what to do. He did not actually give in his resignation until after prayers on Tuesday morning, and any candid person will surely admit that he was excusable, in the agitation of the moment, for thinking that it was better to fulfil the engagements he was under to his people until the last moment, when these consisted merely in reciting a form of prayer which is very good in itself, and contains nothing contrary to Catholic doctrine. On Tuesday, the 5th of April, Mr. Baker gave a letter of resignation to the vestry of St. Luke's Church, called on Dr. Wyatt, who was the administrator of the diocese during the bishop's absence in Europe, and then went to see the archbishop. When he was admitted to the presence of this venerable and saintly prelate, he threw himself on his knees before him, and in accents and words of the most profound humility made his submission to the Catholic Church, and implored him to receive him into her bosom. {110} The archbishop, who knew him well by sight and by reputation, arose in haste from his chair to raise him from his knees, in a few warm and affectionate words welcomed him to his embrace, and begged him to be seated by his side and to calm himself. It was with difficulty that he could induce him to do so, for the barrier in his soul that had held it icebound for so long had given way: a torrent of repressed emotions was swelling in his bosom, and after a moment he burst into a flood of tears, the gentle and good archbishop weeping with him from sympathy. After a long and consoling conversation with the archbishop, he came over to St. Alphonsus' Church, which is near the Cathedral, to see me. I was making a retreat that day, and was walking in the garden, when a message was sent me by the rector to go to the parlor to see Mr. Baker. As soon as he saw me, he said, abruptly, "I have come to be one of you." I invited him inside the inclosure, and he, fancying I misunderstood his words to imply that he was ready to join our religious congregation, answered quickly, "I do not mean that I wish to become a Redemptorist, but a Catholic." "I understand that," I replied; "let us go to the oratory and recite a Te Deum of thanksgiving." We did so, and then walked in the garden together for a short time. The first time I ever saw an expression of real joyfulness in his countenance was then. He was always placid, but never, so far as I could see, joyous, before he became a Catholic. To my great surprise, he chose me as his confessor. I left the time of his reception to himself, and he chose Saturday, the 9th of April, which was the anniversary of the death of his brother Alfred. On Saturday morning, I said Mass in the little chapel of the Orphan Asylum of the Sisters of Charity. Father Hecker, who was present, on account of the approaching mission, accompanied me to the chapel. After Mass, Mr. Baker made his profession, according to the old form, containing the full creed of Pius IV., and I received him into the bosom of the Church. {111} No others were present besides the good Sisters and their little children. He had been baptized by Dr. Wyatt, and the archbishop decided that there was no reason whatever for his being conditionally rebaptized. I performed the supplementary rites of baptism, such as the anointing with holy oil and chrism, the giving of the white garment and lighted candle, etc., at his own request, in the sacristy of the Cathedral, after his sacramental confession was completed. This sacred act was accomplished in the archbishop's library. During the week after his reception, and on the Third Sunday after Easter, April 17, he was confirmed in the Cathedral by Archbishop Kenrick, and received his first communion from his hand. The conversion of Mr. Baker made a great sensation in Baltimore, and wherever he was known. It was announced in the secular papers, and for some weeks a lively controversy arising out of it was kept up. It was the general topic of conversation in all circles, Catholic and Protestant. The sorrow of his own parishioners, of those who had loved and honored him so much while he was connected with St. Paul's parish, and especially of his more near and intimate friends, was very great. His own near relatives, and a certain number of his intimate friends, never were in the least alienated from him, but remained as closely bound to him in affection as ever, while they and he lived. The great majority of those who had been his admirers, and who had listened with delight to his eloquent preaching, always retained a great respect and esteem for him; and during his whole subsequent life, he almost invariably won a regard from those of the Protestant community who were acquainted with him, second only to that of the Catholic people to whom he ministered. There were some exceptions to this rule, however. A few persons wrote to him in the most severe and reproachful terms. The usual pitiable charge, that his religious change was caused by mental derangement, was made by those whose wretched policy has always been to counteract as much as possible the influence of conversions to the Catholic Church by personal calumnies against the converts. {112} He was sometimes openly insulted, and much more frequently treated with coldness and neglect. Notwithstanding the respect with which so many still regarded him in their hearts, he was compelled to feel that he had become, in great measure, an alien and a stranger in the community where he had been born and bred. In a short time, his duty called him away from his native city, and, somewhat later, from his own State, into a distant part of the country. All the old associations of his early life were broken up; he had no longer an earthly home; and until his death he had, for the most part, no other ties and associations except those which were created by his religious profession and his sacerdotal office. Some six or seven persons were received into the Church soon after his conversion, three or four of whom were his parishioners; and some others may have been at a later period partly influenced by his example. But none of his intimate and particular friends were among the number, with the exception of his old and bosom friend and associate in the ministry, Mr. Lyman. His name and influence faded away, and were forgotten among the things of the past; while he, having bidden farewell to the world and taken up his cross, followed on after Christ, toward the crown he was soon to win, and was lost to the view of those among whom he had lived before, in the dust of the combat and labor of an arduous and obscure missionary career. It is not to be supposed that Mr. Baker could hesitate long as to his vocation. He had in his youth dedicated himself to the ministry of Christ, but had mistaken a false claimant of delegated power to confer the character and mission of the priesthood, for the true one. Nine years had been spent, not uselessly; for the good example and eloquent instructions of a wise and virtuous man are always salutary; and he had been slowly preparing himself by the feeble light and imperfect grace which he had for the perfect gifts of the Catholic sacraments. {113} He was now thirty-three years of age, in the full bloom of his natural powers, with all his holy aspirations and purposes ripened and perfected, with a thorough knowledge of Catholic theology, excepting only its specially technical and professional branches, with all the habits suited for a sacerdotal life fully established. The only doubt of his vocation in his own mind was one of humility, and when this was settled by the decision of his confessor and of his bishop, his course was clear before him. He might still have chosen to remain in his own home and family while preparing for ordination. He might have remained in his native city, or in the diocese, as a secular priest, secure of the most honorable and agreeable position which the archbishop could bestow upon him, where he could have enjoyed all those domestic comforts and elegancies to which he was accustomed, together with the society of the beloved members of his family who still remained, without in any way interfering with his proposed career as a devoted priest. He chose differently, however, and from the promptings of his own soul, which instinctively chose what was most perfect. My religious brethren and myself used no solicitations to induce him to join us. His original desire for the religious life gave him a bias toward the regular clergy. What he saw of the little band of American Redemptorists, and of the mission which was given at the Cathedral, captivated his heart with a desire to become one of their number. He thought of one thing only--what was the will of God, and the most perfect way open to him to sanctify himself and others in the priesthood. His mind was soon made up on this point. He applied to the Father Provincial of the Redemptorists, who received him without hesitation. He settled his affairs as speedily as possible, and began his novitiate at once. As soon as the proper time arrived, he divested himself of all his property for the benefit of the surviving members of his family. His library he gave to the congregation, by whom it was afterward kindly restored to him, and is now in the possession of the Paulists at New York. {114} His only aim and desire, from this time forward, was to acquire the perfection of Christian and religious virtue. Forgetting all that was behind, he pressed forward to those things which were before, with a fixed aim and a steady, unfaltering step. He dropped into the position of a novice and a student so easily, and with such a perfectness of humility, that it seemed his natural and obvious place to be among the youths and young men who were with him. He was the favorite and companion of the youngest among them, and, it is needless to say, the delight and consolation of his superiors. After one year of novitiate and his profession, he continued for two years more studying dogmatic and moral theology, with the other accessories usually taught to candidates for orders. During this time he lost his amiable and excellent sister, Elizabeth Baker, to his great sorrow. Although his ordination was postponed much longer than is usually the case with men in his position, already so well prepared by their previous intellectual and moral training for the priesthood, he was not in the least impatient at the delay, and his long preparation gave him the advantage that he was ready at once to undertake all the most difficult and responsible duties of a matured and experienced priest. Besides this, he acquired that thorough and minute theoretical and practical knowledge of the ceremonies of the Church, and of every thing relating to the divine service of the altar and the sanctuary, for which he was afterward distinguished. He came out of his long retirement a workman thoroughly and completely furnished for his task, and imbued through and through with the spirit of the Catholic Church. I seldom saw him, and never exchanged letters with him, during all this period, each of us being absorbed in his own particular duties and occupations, at a distance from the other. As the time of his ordination approached, we were both of us, however, again in the same House, that of St. Alphonsus, in Baltimore. {115} It was in the summer of 1856 that he finished his studies, and, having some time before received the minor orders, began his retreat preparatory to being admitted to the three holy orders. During the retreat, his companion, F. Vogien, an amiable and holy young religious--with him and the saintly prelate who ordained them, now, I trust, in heaven--was full of dread and apprehension, often weeping, and even entreating his superior to postpone his ordination. With Father Baker it was otherwise. While I was in the church, during the evening, employed in the exercises of my own retreat, I often heard him singing the most joyful of the ecclesiastical chants in the garden, and his placid, pale face was lighted up with the radiant joy of a Soul approaching to the consummation of its holiest and most cherished wishes. He was ordained sub-deacon and deacon in St. Mary's Chapel during the week before the Sunday fixed for his ordination to the priesthood. On Sunday, September 21, 1856, he was ordained priest by Archbishop Kenrick, in the Cathedral. The Archbishop celebrated Pontifical Mass, the reverend gentlemen and seminarists from St. Sulpice assisted, and the clergy were present in considerable numbers, among them his old friend, Mr. Lyman, already a priest. Everyone who knows what the Cathedral of Baltimore is, and how the grand ceremonies of the Church are performed in it, will understand how beautiful and inspiring was the scene at Father Baker's ordination. The great church was crowded to its utmost capacity, but it was by Catholics only, drawn by the desire to see one who had sacrificed so much for their own dear faith. Father Baker, as he knelt with his companion at a priedieu, dressed in rich and beautiful white vestments, after receiving the indelible character of the priesthood, to offer up with the Archbishop the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, looked more like an angel than a man. {116} The holy and benignant prelate shed tears of joyful emotion when he embraced him at the close of the ceremony, and there was never a more delightful reunion than that which took place on that day, when the clergy met at the archbishop's table, to participate in the modest festivities of the episcopal mansion. A few days after, Mr. Lyman, Father Baker, and Myself, celebrated a solemn Votive Mass of Thanksgiving at St. Alphonsus' Church, for the signal grace we had received, in being all brought to the communion of the Holy Church and to her priesthood. Here began the sacerdotal career, brief in time, but rich in labors and results, of Father Baker. He remained in Baltimore a few weeks, to celebrate his first Mass, and initiate himself in quiet retirement into his new priestly life and functions. The first fruit of his new priesthood was a convert to the Catholic Church, a young widow lady of highly respectable family, who was bred a Unitarian, and who had been waiting three years to be received into the Church by Father Baker. He baptized her and her two children, a few days after his own ordination. Soon after he began the missionary career, in which the greatest part of his subsequent life was employed. It may not here be amiss to digress from the personal history of Father Baker, long enough to give some account of the nature of those missions in which he was henceforth to take so conspicuous a part, and of their introduction into this country. In doing so, I shall describe more particularly the method adopted in those missions with which I have been myself connected, without noticing any others which may differ in certain details; and this will suffice to give a correct idea of all missions, so far as their general spirit and scope is concerned. Missions to the Catholic people have been in use for centuries in various parts of Europe. They are generally given by the members of religious congregations specially devoted to the work. The missionaries are invited by the pastor of the parish, with the sanction of the bishop of the diocese from whom they receive their jurisdiction. {117} The exercises of the mission consist of a regular series of sermons and instructions, continued for a number of days, and sometimes for two weeks in succession, twice or oftener in the day. The course of instructions, which is given at an early hour of the morning, embraces familiar and plain but solid and didactic expositions of the commandments, sacraments, and practical Christian and moral duties. The course of sermons, given at night, includes the great truths which relate to the eternal destiny of man, which are presented in the most thorough and exhaustive manner possible, and enforced with all the power with which the preacher is endowed. Several of Father Baker's mission sermons are included in the collection published in this volume, and will serve to exhibit their peculiar style and character. Frequently, the older children receive separate instruction for about four days in succession, closing with a general confession and communion. After the mission has continued a few days, the confessionals are opened to the people, and communion is given every morning to those who are prepared to receive. At the close of the mission the altar is decorated with flowers and lights, a baptismal font is erected, the people renew their baptismal vows after an appropriate sermon has been preached, and are dismissed with a parting benediction. The sacrifice of the Mass is offered up several times every morning, according to the number of priests present; and before the evening sermon there is a short prefatory exercise, which, in the Paulist Missions, consists of the explanation of an article of the Creed, followed by the Litany of the Saints. After sermon, the _Miserere_ or some other appropriate piece is sung, and the benediction of the Blessed Sacrament is given. All this is very simple, consisting of nothing more than the preaching of the Word of God, the administration of the sacraments, and the performance of acts of worship and prayer, as these are ordinarily practised in the regular routine of the Catholic Church. {118} All that is peculiar and unusual consists in the adaptation of the preaching and instructions to the end in view, and in the daily continuity of the exercises. The object aimed at is to present in one complete view all the principal truths of religion, and all the essential practical rules for living virtuously in conformity with those truths, and to do this in the most comprehensive, forcible, and intelligible manner. The class of persons for whose benefit missions are primarily intended is that portion of the Catholic people least influenced by the ordinary ministrations of the parochial clergy, although all classes, even the best instructed and most regular, share in the benefit. All necessary available means are used to awaken an interest in the mission and to secure attendance. When this is done, continuous daily listening to instruction and participation in religious exercises prevents the impressions received from passing away, the people become more and more interested and absorbed, and are carried through a process of thought and reflection upon all the most momentous truths and doctrines, which is for them equivalent to a thorough education of the mind and conscience. The general instructions given in public are applied to the individual soul by the confessor in the tribunal of penance, as the judge of guilty and the physician of diseased and wounded consciences. Sin and guilt are washed away by sacramental absolution from all who are sincerely penitent; their souls, purified and restored to grace, are refreshed and strengthened by the Body and Blood of Christ in the Holy Eucharist, and the debt of temporal punishment due to the justice of God is removed or lightened, in proportion to the intensity of contrition and divine love excited in the soul by its own efforts to secure the grace of God, through the indulgences conceded by the supreme power of the Vicar of Christ. {119} The earlier sermons are directed to the end of fixing the mind on the supreme importance of religion, and alarming the conscience in regard to sin. Afterward, special vices are denounced, particular dangers and temptations pointed out, those duties which are most neglected are brought out into bold relief, and every effort made to produce a thorough reformation of life. Toward the close, the scope and aim of the sermons are to animate and encourage the heart and will by appealing to the nobler passions and the higher motives, to awaken confidence in God, to portray the eternal rewards of virtue and point out the means of perseverance. All that can impress the senses and imagination, subdue the heart, convince the reason, and stimulate the will, is brought to bear, in conjunction with the supernatural efficacy of the word and sacraments of Christ, upon a people full of faith and religious susceptibility, under the most favorable circumstances for producing the greatest possible effect. Where faith is impaired, the effect is not so certain, and slower and more tedious means have to be adopted, with less hope of success, to restore the dying root of all religion, or replant it where it is completely dead. It is moreover certain, although it may not be evident to those who are destitute of Catholic faith, that there is an extraordinary grace of God accompanying the exercises of the mission; and this was so plain to the mind of an earnest Episcopalian clergyman in New England, on one occasion, that it led him to study seriously the subject of the Catholic Church, the result of which was that he became a Catholic, at a great personal sacrifice. Public retreats had been given from time to time in the United States, by the Jesuits and others, before the series of Redemptorist Missions was commenced. This series, which began at St. Joseph's Church, New York, in April, 1851, was, however, the first that was systematically and regularly carried on by a band of missionaries especially devoted to the work. Since that time, the number of missionaries, belonging to several distinct congregations, has increased, and the missions have been multiplied. {120} The principal merit of inaugurating this great and extensive work belongs to F. Bernard Hafkenscheid, who was formerly the Provincial of the Redemptorist Congregation in the United States. F. Bernard, as he was always called, on account of his unpronounceable patronymic, had been for twenty years the most eloquent and successful preacher of missions in his native country of Holland and the adjacent Low Countries. Born to the possession of wealth and all its attendant advantages, but still more blessed with a most thorough religious training and the grace of early piety from his childhood, he received a finished ecclesiastical education, which he completed at Rome, where he was honored with the doctorate in theology. After his ordination, he devoted himself to the religious and missionary life in the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer, in which he speedily became the most eminent of all their preachers in the Low Countries. He was able to preach the word of God with fluency and correctness in three languages, besides his native tongue: French, German, and English. But it was only in the Dutch language that he was able to exhibit the extraordinary powers of eloquence with which he was endowed, and which made his name a household word in every Catholic family in Holland. His picture was to be seen in every house; the highest and lowest flocked with equal eagerness to hear him, and, on one occasion, the king himself came to the convent to testify his respect for his apostolic character by a formal visit. His figure and countenance were cast in a mould as large as that of his great and generous soul, and his whole character and bearing were those of a man born to lead and command others by his innate superiority, but to command far more by the magnetic influence of a kind and noble heart than by authority. Father Bernard brought with him to the United States, in March, 1851, two American Redemptorists, who had been stationed for some years in England, and had scarcely landed in New York when he organized a band of missionaries, to commence the English missions. {121} During nearly two years, he took personal charge of many of those missions, working in the confessional from twelve to sixteen hours every day, occasionally preaching when the ordinary preacher broke down, and instructing the young, inexperienced fathers most carefully in all the methods of giving sermons and instructions, and otherwise conducting the exercises of the mission in the best and most judicious manner. Father Bernard received Father Baker into the congregation, but soon afterward was recalled to Europe, where, after a long and laborious life spent in the sacred warfare, he is resting in the quiet repose and peace of religions seclusion. [Footnote 4] [Footnote 4: Since the above was written, the news has been received of the death of Father Bernard, from the effects of a fall while descending from the pulpit.] The superior of the English Missions, in the absence of F. Bernard, and after he ceased to direct them personally, was another Father with an unpronounceable name, F. Alexander Cvitcovicz, a Magyar, who was always called Father Alexander. It would have been impossible to find a superior more completely fitted for the position. Although he was even then past the meridian of life, and had been in former times the Superior-General of his Congregation in the United States, he cheerfully took on himself the hardest labors of the missions. It was not unusual for him to sit in his confessional for ten days in succession, for fifteen or sixteen hours each day. He instructed the little children who were preparing for the sacraments, and sometimes gave some of the morning instructions, but never preached any of the great sermons. In his government of the fathers who were under him, he was gentleness, consideration, and indulgence itself. In his own life and example, he presented a pattern of the most perfect religious virtue, in its most attractive form--without constraint, austerity, or moroseness, and yet without relaxation from the most strict ascetic principles. {122} He was a thoroughly accomplished and learned man in many branches of secular and sacred science and in the fine arts; and in the German language, which was as familiar to him as his native language, he was among the best preachers of his order. He designed and built the beautiful Church of St. Alphonsus, in Baltimore, although he was never able to complete it according to his own just and elegant taste. For such a man to take upon himself the drudgery of laborious missions, aided, for the most part, by young men in delicate health, incapable of enduring the hardships of old, well-seasoned veterans, was indeed a trial of his virtue. He undertook it, however, cheerfully, and we went through several long and hard missionary campaigns under his direction, until at last we left him, in the year 1854, in the convent at New Orleans, worn out with labor, to exchange his arduous missionary work for the lighter duties of the parish. Father Alexander was succeeded in the office of Superior of English Missions by Father Walworth, one of the American Redemptorists, who accompanied Father Bernard from England, and who continued in that office until, with several others, he was released from his connection with the congregation by a brief of the Holy Father, in order to form a new society of missionaries. There has never been a finer field open to missions than the one which is found in the Catholic population of the United States, and seldom has there existed a greater need of them. The missions of St. Alphonsus Liguori, the founder of the Redemptorists, and his companions, were confined to villages, hamlets, and outlying districts, remote from episcopal cities and large towns. In his rules he directs his children to labor in places of this sort, because in Italy the most neglected and necessitous part of the people is only to be found there. In this country it was not so. The great need for missions lay in cities and large towns, where dense masses of Catholics were gathered, and where churches, clergy, and religious organizations of all kinds, were inadequate to the spiritual wants of the people. {123} A large part of the missionary work which has been accomplished has been, therefore, among those dense masses of the people in our largest churches and congregations, penetrating to the lowest strata, and bringing to bear a powerful religious influence upon the most uninstructed and negligent classes of the people. Some idea of the extent of this work may be gained from the fact that the missions given by the corps which F. Bernard organized, during seven years, from 1851 to 1858, were eighty-six in number, with an aggregate of 166,000 communions. They have been carried on on a similar scale, since that time, by the new Congregation of St. Paul, and by members of several older religious societies; so that, in the last seven years, the number of persons who have participated in the benefits of missions is, probably, nearly double the figures given above. There were other missions also given, during the first period, besides those enumerated, especially among Germans. It is, therefore, speaking within bounds to estimate the number of persons who have received the sacraments on missions, since 1851, at 500,000. This is, however, much less than might have been done, if the number of missionaries and the facilities for attending their missions had been greater. Our Catholic population is a vast sea, where the successors of the apostolic fishers of men may cast their nets perpetually, without ever exhausting its abundance. In large towns, the population is so fluctuating and so continually increasing, that the work needs to be perpetually renewed at short intervals. There are also immense difficulties in the way of the poor people. The mass of them belong to the laboring class, and are, therefore, obliged to come to church very early, before their working hours, and again at night, after their work is done. They have no leisure, and can with difficulty rescue even the few hours necessary for listening to the instructions they so much need. Hence, many of them can get only as it were by snatches, here and there, a sermon or instruction during the course. In factory towns the case is worse. {124} Were it not for the accommodation usually granted by the overseers, in shortening the time, and giving leave of absence, it would be impossible to give missions to the operatives in many of our factory villages. Our modern system of society leaves out of the account the wants of the soul and the duties of religion. For many, there is even the hard necessity of working all night, and all Sunday. It is, therefore, difficult enough for our poor people to attend a mission well, when there is plenty of room for them in the church, and a good chance of going to confession without waiting longer than a few hours. Very frequently, however, in our large and overcrowded parishes, the church will not hold--even when crowded to suffocation--more than from one-fourth to one-half of the parishioners. The church is frequently filled two hours before the time of service. The porch, the steps, the windows even, are crowded, and hundreds go a way disappointed. It is easy to see what a drawback this is to the success of a mission, which requires a continuous attendance at all the sermons and instructions, and to the stillness and order in the church which are necessary to enable all to hear distinctly, and to reflect on what they hear. I have seen at least four thousand persons congregated in the streets adjacent to the New York Cathedral, besides the crowd inside. Another difficulty lies in the vast number of penitents, and the small number of confessors. On many missions, confined strictly to one parish, there have been from four thousand to eight thousand communions; and, of course, that number of confessions to be heard within eleven days. At a recent mission of the Redemptorists, in New York, there were eleven thousand communions; and at one given a year or two ago, by the Jesuits, twenty thousand. Ordinarily, the number of confessors has been inadequate to the work. The people have thronged the chapel where confessions were heard, from four o'clock in the morning until night, often waiting an entire day, or even several days, before they could get near a priest. {125} At five in the morning, each of us would see two long rows--one of men and one of women--seated on benches, flanking his confessional. At one o'clock he would leave the same unbroken lines, to find them again at three, and to leave them in the evening still undiminished. At the end of the mission there would be still the same crowd waiting about the confessionals, and left unheard, because the missionaries were unable to continue their work any longer. More than one-half these people would be persons who had not been at confession for five, ten, or twenty years, and of these a great number had seldom been at church, and still more rarely heard a sermon. Hundreds upon hundreds of adults, of all ages, have received the sacraments for the first time upon these missions, many of whom had to be taught the doctrines of the Trinity and the Incarnation, with the other elementary articles of the Creed. I have several times, at the close of a mission, seen a row of grown-up boys seated before my confessional, of that class who roam the streets, loiter about the docks, and sleep out at night, unable to read, and scarcely able to tell who made them, much less to answer the question, Who is Jesus Christ? They had come to be instructed and prepared for the sacraments, swept in by the tide which was moving the waters all around them. Of course, they needed weeks of instruction and of moral preparation, to rescue them from the abyss of ignorance and vice in which they were submerged, and make them capable of living like rational beings and Christians. With some of them, a beginning may be made, and the germ of good planted in their souls. But many have to be left as they come, because there is no provision which can be made for their instruction. In a word, the nets are so full of a multitude of fishes that they break, and there are not workmen enough to drag them ashore. The work is too overwhelming for the number and strength of those who are engaged in it. In this respect, some missions which have been given in the British provinces, have been the most complete and satisfactory of any. {126} In St. Patrick's Church, Quebec, the vast size of the building enabled all who desired to do so to find room. Nineteen confessors were on duty, and others were appointed to instruct converts or ignorant adult Catholics. All who wished to go to confession were easily heard, without long waiting, or the accumulation of a great crowd of wearied and eager penitents pressing around the confessionals. It was the same in St. John's, where the Archbishop of Halifax and a large body of clergymen were hearing confessions constantly, although, even with this powerful aid, the missionaries broke down under the labor of preaching every day to six thousand or eight thousand persons in the great Cathedral Church, which had just been opened for service. In these places, however, the number of the people, though great, had a limit which could be reached, and the requisite number of priests were easily at the command of the bishop. In the United States, however, the work is out of all proportion to the number of priests who are either specially devoted to missions or who can be called in to aid these in their labors. The missionaries are too few to do the work alone, and the parochial clergy are too much engaged in their own duties to be able to give much of their time to additional works of charity. If it were possible to give missions simultaneously in all the churches of New York City, and if they could contain all the people, it would be easy to collect one hundred thousand Catholics together every night to hear the Word of God, and to bring from one hundred and fifty thousand to two hundred thousand to communion within fifteen days. In proportion to the population, the same results would be produced everywhere in the United States. It would require the labor of one hundred missionaries, during eight years, to give missions thoroughly to our entire Catholic population. At their commencement, however, and for some years after, there were but six or eight, and there are now, probably, not more than twenty priests continually employed in this work. {127} The necessity for it is, nevertheless, quite as urgent as it ever has been, and the benefit to be derived from it inconceivable. There are the vast masses of people gathered in our great centers of population, exposed to a thousand demoralizing influences, and most inadequately supplied with the ordinary means of grace. All that has been done for them hitherto, is but just sufficient to develop the immense need there is for doing more, and the great blessing that attends every effort to do it. Of course, the main reliance of the Church is, and always must be, upon the bishops and parochial clergy, and I have not had the slightest intention, in any thing I have said, to exaggerate the importance of the special work of missionaries. The episcopate and priesthood were established by Jesus Christ Himself, and are absolutely essential to the very existence of the Church. Religious congregations are of ecclesiastical institution, and are only auxiliary to the pastoral office. The multiplication of churches and of priests engaged in parochial duties is the most pressing need, and in no other way can the spiritual wants of the people be adequately provided for. It will be long, however, before the bishops will be able, even by the most strenuous exertions, to make the number of churches and clergymen keep pace with the increase of the population. Meanwhile, this lack of the ordinary means of grace cannot be supplied except by missions; and even where these means are amply provided, the subsidiary and extraordinary labors of societies of priests devoted to special apostolic works are necessary, in order to give their full efficacy to the ministrations of the ordinary pastors. Besides our great towns, and their dense mass of Catholic population, there is another extensive field of missionary work, which has of late years been successfully cultivated, and which invites still further cultivation with a promise of a rich harvest. {128} I refer to the numerous new parishes found in the smaller cities and country towns and villages. Here a new phase of Catholic life and growth has commenced. The population is becoming settled and permanent. Catholics are making their way upward, acquiring real and personal property, blending with the body of their fellow-citizens, educating their children, and to a certain extent themselves belong to the second generation of Catholic emigrants from Europe, having been born and married in this country. In many instances, one pastor has two or more of these parishes to take care of. His time and thoughts are taken up with church-building and a multitude of other necessary duties. The country around is sprinkled over with Catholics, who have no resident priest among them. There is a vast amount of work to be done in instructing, confirming in the faith, bringing under religious and moral influence, and establishing in solid piety and morality, this interesting and hopeful class of Catholics. Nowhere have the missions been so complete and satisfactory as in parishes of this kind. The whole body of the people living in the place where the church is, can attend the sermons and receive the sacraments. Besides these, those living several miles away flock to the church as regularly as if they lived in the same street; and even from a great distance, numbers, who are usually deprived of the religious advantages of the Church, perhaps even have grown up without making their first communion, seize the opportunity with eagerness to come to the mission and remain for a few days, until they can be prepared to receive the sacraments of life. In Massachusetts alone, where congregations of this kind abound, the number of communions given in the Paulist Missions of the last five years, without counting those given in Boston, amounts to twenty-five thousand five hundred and thirty, on seventeen distinct missions, giving an average of one thousand three hundred and twenty-five to each congregation. These figures are a correct index to the numbers of the Catholic population in country towns throughout Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, and other portions of the Northern States. {129} The missions hitherto given have been intended immediately for the benefit of the Catholic people. Their incidental influence upon the Protestant community ought not, however, to be overlooked. Usually, our Catholic churches are so crowded by the faithful, that it is at least unpleasant, if not almost impossible for others to attend our sermons, especially on occasions of great interest. Notwithstanding this obstacle, thousands of Protestants have come at different times to hear the mission sermons, and there have usually been several converts on each large mission, sometimes as many as twenty, and on one mission, that of Quebec, fifty. Hundreds have been received into the Church, in this way, from all classes in society, among whom were two clergymen holding respectable positions in the Episcopal Church, which they gave up at a great worldly sacrifice. Besides actual conversions, a great effect has been produced in removing the prejudices and gaining the good-will of the community at large. The secular papers have almost unanimously spoken favorably of the missions. In many instances, the gentlemen and ladies of the vicinity have sent the choicest flowers of their gardens and hot-houses, to decorate the altar and baptismal font. Not only laymen, but clergymen have often manifested a wish to show kind and courteous attentions to the missionaries. Very seldom has any thing unpleasant occurred, or any annoyance been experienced--much less, indeed, than is encountered by missionaries in some other parts of the world from nominal Catholics. Employers have frequently lent their servants and work-people the means of conveyance to the church, or exempted them from a portion of their duties. It is impossible not to see how rapidly and generally the prejudice against the Catholic religion and the priesthood is melting away in this country. And this seems to warrant the hope that the time may soon come, when the faith may be preached to our separated brethren by means of missions especially intended for them, with rich results. {130} The favorable impression already so widely produced upon those who have heard Catholic missionaries preach, proves how much we have to hope for in this direction. This has caused, in one instance, which seems to demand some notice, an attempt to obviate this effect, by representing our manner of preaching as part of an artful plan of Rome, to deceive the minds of the people by presenting only a portion of the Catholic doctrine under plausible colors. After several missions had been given in Cambridge and Boston, where many Protestants of intelligence attended, and more would have willingly done so if there bad been room for them, the rector of a Boston church, who was present several times, preached and published a lecture, in which he attempted to explain the real spirit and object of the Paulist Congregation, by which the missions were given. The extent of the impression made is proved by the following passage in a note to the lecture:-- "One does not take pleasure in accumulating proofs that the Papal superstition still retains its most deplorable features; but as long as Protestant minds are imposed upon by the superficial fallacy that it is parting with these features, because its public speakers deliver admirable discourses, it seems to be necessary. Undoubtedly, the order of Paulists, is at present a very efficient arm of the Romish service in this country. Men say, 'Whatever Hildebrand, and the Innocents, and Torquemada may have done or said, _such preaching as this is good for everybody_.'" [Footnote 5] [Footnote 5: The R. C. Principle: a "Price Lecture," &c. Boston. Dutton & Co. 1863 App., p. 39.] On page 27 of the lecture, he says: "One of the latest developments in the policy of her propagandism is the establishment in this country, with head-quarters in our chief city, of a new missionary order. {131} The Paulists are the itinerants and revivalists of that _shrewd mother of adaptabilities_, who, in becoming all things to all men and to all women, saw a chance in America for reaping, not so much in the field where her own fathers, like Marquette and Rasles, as where Whitfield and Maffit had sown." Throughout the lecture, the aim of the author is to show that the sound and practical preaching of the eternal truths of religion, which he is forced himself to admire, and which was so much admired by many others, is nothing but an illusive pretence, which throws a deceitful halo over a system of superstitious formalism. I have not introduced this topic for the sake of a theological argument, but merely in view of vindicating the reputation of F. Baker, whose sermons at Cambridge made the principal impression which the lecture was intended to obviate, and forestalling a prejudice which might cast a shade over the discourses which are published in this volume. The author of this lecture, who has been my personal friend for thirty years, and who wrote to me on the occasion of its publication to express his hope that it might not interrupt our friendship, and all the Protestants who may peruse these pages, especially those who know me, will admit that I am both competent to explain what Catholic doctrine is, and incapable of practising any dissimulation on the subject. Those who knew F. Baker, or who may learn to know him from reading this volume, will also acknowledge that his high-toned mind was incapable of yielding to any system of driveling superstition, and his chivalrous spirit of descending to any system of artful deception by paltering with words in a double sense. I ask them, therefore, not, to accept Catholic doctrine as true on our authority, but simply to believe that the testimony I give as to the doctrine we have embraced and preached, and our views and intentions in giving missions, is true; and that the doctrine, contained in the discourses of this volume, is a veritable exposition of the true Catholic faith. {132} The missions were commenced and have been carried on for the purpose of benefiting the Catholic people. The sermons and instructions have been the same, in doctrine and practical aims, with those which were given in Italy and other purely Catholic countries for centuries past. The congregation of Paulists was not established by any act of the hierarchy here, or of the supreme authority at Rome. It was formed by F. Baker and three other American converts, in consequence of certain unforeseen circumstances, and without any previous deliberate plan, with a simple approbation from an archbishop, and a mere recognition of the validity of that approbation on the part of Rome. Not a word of instruction or direction as to the manner of preaching, or the end to be aimed at in our labors, has ever been given by authority, but the movement has been the spontaneous act of the few individuals who began it. It is our desire, as it must be that of every Catholic priest, to bring as many persons as possible to the Catholic faith and into the bosom of the Catholic Church. We intend, therefore, to make use of all the means and opportunities in our power to present the faith and the Church to our non-Catholic countrymen, and to promote as much as possible the conversion of the American people. The Catholic Church has the mission to convert the whole world, and intends to fulfil it; and any Catholic priest who does not endeavor to do his share of the work, is recreant to the high obligations of his office. We intend to do our part, however, in promoting this great end, not by artifice or dissimulation, not by secret intrigues or plots, by fraud or violence, by undermining or attacking the civil and religious liberty enjoyed by all our citizens in common, but by argument and persuasion, by exhibiting the Church in her beauty, by prayer and good example, and by the grace of God: We have no reserves in regard either to our doctrine or our intentions, no esoteric and exoteric teaching. We present the Church and the faith as they always have been, in all times and places, one, universal, and immutable, in all their essential parts. {133} What the Church and her doctrine are is ascertainable by all who will take pains to inform themselves, and it would be impossible for us to conceal it if we were so disposed. All that we have to fear on this head is ignorance of the real truth concerning our principles, and the misrepresentation of them by those whose knowledge of them is superficial. The author of this lecture is one of this latter class, and has hastily and without due examination put forth his own impressions of our doctrines and practices, with which he is so completely unacquainted as not even to perceive that there is any thing in them which requires any careful study or thought. He says, p. 28: "I have heard several of these mission sermons preached. Most of them would undoubtedly be a _surprise_, and an agreeable one, to Protestant ears. There was a sermon on 'future punishment,' without one allusion to Purgatory." The sermon was on _Hell_, not on the whole subject of Future Punishment. We follow the laws of logic and rhetoric in our sermons, and confine ourselves strictly to the topic in hand; excluding all irrelevant matter. Any one who is surprised at a sermon like this, shows that he is entirely ignorant of the published sermons of our great preachers. One who supposes that the place of punishment for those Catholics who have sinned grievously, and have not truly repented before death, is Purgatory, is entirely ignorant of Catholic theology. "There was a sermon on 'Mortal Sins,' with scarcely a reference to absolution." For the same reason given above, that the preacher stuck to his subject, and the instructions on the Sacrament of Penance were given in the morning. "There was another, on the 'Close of Life,' which, from beginning to end, went to prove, in language that must have scorched every conscience not seared that listened to it--_contrary to all the common Protestant impressions of Romish instruction_--that there is no efficacy whatever in any or all of the Seven Sacraments _to save a wicked Roman Catholic from perdition._" {134} Indeed! Then these common impressions are all incorrect. The proposition which excites so much surprise is nothing but the commonest truism, familiar to every child that has learned the catechism. To admit, however, that the lecturer found himself to have been always mistaken, and Protestants generally to have been under the same mistake concerning Catholic teaching, would have been fatal. He has no such intention. There is couched, under the language of praise which he gives to the sermon, a concealed accusation that the doctrine of the sermons does not really mean what it seems, and that the old Protestant prejudice against "Romish instruction" is, after all, correct. This concealed arrow is launched in the next paragraph: "_Supposing the fundamental falsehood, as a whole, to stand unchallenged_, hardly any addresses can be conceived more admirably effective to a practical and useful end in the lives of the people." That is to say, there is a fundamental falsehood which destroys their admirable effectiveness to a practical and useful end. The lecturer is making out a case against us, and preparing an indictment which shall destroy the good impression we have made on Protestant hearers. He prepares the way by ridiculing the ceremonies of Catholic worship. "But at just that point not only all praise, but all sympathy stops short. To say nothing of the dreary array of public pantomime and incantation, sprinkling and fumigation, pasteboard sanctities and materialistic adoration, which followed, and which give one a sense of momentary mortification at being a spectator at such a mixed piece of impiety and absurdity," &c. The point at which the lecturer is aiming here clearly comes in view. All that is spiritual in our sermons, and that seems to inculcate a real and solid piety and virtue, is mere talk, or like the one genuine watch which the mock auctioneer passes around with his pinchbeck counterfeits, to deceive his dupes the better. {135} After a show of pure, spiritual doctrine, to furnish "a surprise, and an agreeable one, to Protestant ears," the poor Catholics are imposed upon with a set of outward shows and a routine of superstitious observances, which they are taught to believe will act upon them by a kind of magic charm, and secure them from receiving any damage to their souls and their future prospects from their sins. The religious services which the reverend lecturer witnessed on the occasion referred to, consisted of the psalm _Miserere_, chanted by the choir, the hymn _Tantum Ergo_, and the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. What is designated by the terms "pantomime and incantation" I am at a loss to conjecture. The "fumigation" was the burning of incense, which was also had at the High Mass recently celebrated in Trinity Chapel by F. Agapius. I think, also, that I have read in the Old Testament something about censers and incense having been prescribed by the Almighty to be used in the "pantomimes and incantations" of the Jewish ritual. "Pasteboard sanctities" puzzled me for a long time. I suppose it refers to the pictures blessed at one of the morning instructions, which the lecturer has confounded with the evening sermon. "There were yet, beyond all that, as one pondered, appalling absences from the teaching, and more fearful elements included." These strong epithets prepare us now to await the final and telling blow. First, the "appalling absences" are specified. "Can that be the true preaching of 'the Word' where the language of that Word so seldom enters in?" The reader is requested to look over a few of the sermons in this volume, and count the scriptural texts. "Could that be the true preaching of 'Christ, and Him crucified,' where any mention of the simple gospel story was almost systematically shut out?" A mere _ad captandum_ objection. If the lecturer had heard the Creed explained throughout, he would have heard the mystery of redemption explained in its proper place. The reader is again referred to the sermons of this volume for a more complete answer to this aspersion. {136} Now Come the "more fearful elements." These are the merit of good works, the scapular, indulgences, transubstantiation, auricular confession, purgatory, and devotion to the Blessed Virgin and Saints. The gist of the whole is contained in the following sentence:-- "Every system must be judged by its weaknesses and its errors, not merely by its better traits. They say in mechanics that the strength of a complicated piece of machinery is equal only to the strength of its weakest part. This is as true in a scheme of justification as in dynamics. _Offer human nature, at its own option, various ways of securing salvation_, and not more certainly will water seek the lowest spot than men will settle down to the inferior methods of escaping the pains of perdition." What is the point of this observation? Evidently this: That we propose one way of salvation, by a truly holy life; and another way, in which, without the trouble of leading a holy life, one may save himself by a few outward observances, a mere confession of the lips, without contrition or amendment, reciting indulgenced prayers, wearing the scapular, &c. Consequently, only a few, who are of the nobler sort, will take the route of virtue and spiritual religion, while the mass will go on indulging themselves in all the sins to which they are inclined, and compound for them on the easiest terms they can make. Now, supposing this to be true, it recoils with all its force upon the one who uttered it. The whole doctrine of his lecture denies all merit to holiness and virtue, and ascribes justification solely to the personal holiness and virtue of Christ, which is appropriated by a naked act of faith. This is the Lutheran doctrine, and there cannot be a lower spot for men to settle down to, or an easier way for dispensing oneself from every thing that is painful and self-denying in the religion of the Cross. The author himself accuses (on p. 21 et seq.) nine-tenths of the New England Protestants of having slid down to such a low point that they are as bad as Romanists:-- {137} "The first question put by about nine New Englanders out of ten, when they are urged to any particular religious duty, is whether it is necessary to their salvation, i.e. whether they shall be paid for doing it. It is essentially a Romish question. * * * Point to their censorious tongues, their narrow judgments, their contempt of the Lord's poor, their unlovely temper, their social and partisan prejudices, their mean dealings in business, their physical and religious selfishness: they give you to understand _that sometime since they got into the ark--why should they be further converted?_" Why should they, indeed, according to Luther and Calvin? Once obtain the imputation of the merits of Christ, by faith, and you have a full absolution for both the past, the present, and the future, without confession or penance; you have an inalienable right to the fruits of redemption without sacrifice or sacrament; you have a perfect righteousness and a right to an eternal reward without good works or merits; you have a plenary indulgence without even repeating "a prayer of six lines," or attending a mission; and you will go to heaven, not on the Saturday, but on the instant after your decease, without a scapular. Even the few little things that we exact from our poor, simple followers, as a price for heaven, are dispensed with. "_Not more surely will water seek the lowest spot_, than men will settle down to the inferior methods of escaping the pains of perdition." Let the Catholic priest tell them that they must profess the faith and enter the communion of the one true Church, at whatever sacrifice of pride, position, property, or friends, and they will find some inferior method of saving their souls and keeping this world--if they can. Let him tell them that they must confess every mortal sin, and they will settle down to some inferior method of obtaining pardon--if they can find one. {138} Let him tell them that they must do penance, fast, abstain, give alms, mortify their passions, keep the commandments, work out their salvation, _and, if they would be perfect, sell all and follow Christ_, like him whose doctrine the author attempts to criticise, and they will settle down to some inferior method--if they can persuade themselves that it is at their option to do so. "What avails it," the lecturer goes on to say, "that the preaching priest tells the congregation that sacraments and saints will not save them, and omits to mention the confessional, if the confessing priest tells them, as he does in this 'book' which he puts into their hands, quoting from the 'Roman Catechism,' that almost all the piety, holiness, and fear of God, which, through the Divine mercy, are to be found in Christendom, are owing to sacramental confession?" (Pp. 30, 31.) The priest _does not omit_ to mention the confessional, but let this pass. If there is any meaning in this query, it is, leaving aside the question about the prayers of saints, that it is of no avail to preach the necessity of inward renovation and holiness, if "sacraments" are taught to be the necessary means of grace. Yet the lecturer quotes, on p. 25, a Homily of the Church of England, which says that we obtain "grace and remission, as well of our original sin in baptism [what! saved by 'sprinkling?'] as of all actual sin committed by us after our baptism, if we truly repent and turn unfeignedly to Him again." The same Church of England proposes also, at the option of human nature, along with the method of repenting by yourself, without extrinsic aid, the following "inferior method," by the confessional, which is pretty strongly urged on the sick man, as the best of the two. "Here shall the sick person be moved to make a special confession of his sins, if he feel his conscience troubled with any weighty matter. After which confession, the priest shall absolve him (if he humbly and heartily desire it) after this sort: Our Lord Jesus Christ, Who hath left power to His Church to absolve all sinners who truly repent and believe in Him, of his great mercy forgive thee thine offences: And by His authority committed to me, _I absolve thee from all thy sins_: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." {139} Let us turn to the Catechism of the Church of England, and we shall find a little more about "sacraments," and particularly the Holy Communion. "Qu.--What meanest thou by this word _Sacrament?_ A.--I mean an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace given unto us, ordained by Christ Himself, _as a means whereby we receive the same_, and a pledge to assure us thereof. Qu.--How many parts are there in a Sacrament? A.--Two: the outward visible sign, and the inward spiritual grace. Qu.--What is the outward part or sign of the Lord's Supper? A.--Bread and wine, which the Lord bath commanded to be received. Qu.--What is the inward part, or thing signified? A.--The body and blood of Christ, which are verily and indeed taken and received by the faithful in the Lord's Supper. Qu.--What are the benefits whereof we are partakers thereby? A.--The strengthening and refreshing of our souls by the body and blood of Christ, as our bodies are by the bread and wine." There are some "appalling absences from the teaching" of this Catechism and "other more fearful elements included." There is not a word about the gospel history in it, or justification by faith only. It is all Creed, Commandments, and Sacraments. Change "bread and wine" into "accidents of bread and wine," and you have in an that I have quoted a mere repetition of the Catholic Catechism. "What avails it," then, that the Episcopalian minister tells his congregation that sacraments will not save them, when he puts into their hands this catechism? &c. I cannot follow the lecturer through the whole bead-roll of his enumeration of Catholic practices, which he has picked out of the Mission Book and gathered up in a hasty perusal of other books of devotion, or explain every thing. They are among the minor and subordinate parts of the Catholic system, and are placed in their proper relations to the more essential parts of it in Catholic practice and instruction. {140} The lecturer has put them forward into a false perspective which distorts every thing, in order to show that they practically supplant the truth, the grace, and the morality of Christ; in order to put in a preventer which shall effectually shut off all access of our preaching of the great truths of religion to the Protestant mind. He has skillfully chosen just the very practices which are most misunderstood by Protestants, and most objectionable in their view. The chief of these, and such as are connected with Catholic dogmas, as Masses for the Dead, Devotion to the Blessed Virgin and Saints, and Indulgences, will be found fully explained in the sermons of this volume and the other volumes published by the congregation of which their author was a member, as well as in every Catholic manual. I single out, therefore, only one, and that the very one which a non-Catholic reader of the Mission Book would be most likely to stumble at, viz. _The Scapular_. The author says: "I open the 'Book of the Mission,' and I find, intermixed with much that is better, such wretched directions as that *** the wearing of 'the Virgin's Scapular' around the neck (shall) guarantee the fulfilment of a promise made to one Simon Stock, an English Carmelite friar, of six centuries ago, that 'whoso should die invested with it should be saved from eternal fire.'" If this statement is to be taken in the sense of the lecturer, as a real exposition of our belief, it is very strange that we should not dispense with the confessional, as well as with preaching repentance toward God, and a holy life, and confine ourselves to the easier task of investing all Catholics with the scapular. Nothing would be further necessary then, except to keep the strings in good repair, and we might all of us take our ease, eat, drink, and be merry, while this short life lasts, secure of going to heaven at last. Human nature always settles down to the lowest optional method of escaping perdition, according to our author. {141} It is very singular, that after hearing our sermons on the mission, and then stumbling upon this account of the scapular in a book published under our own direction, he should not have thought that there was some explanation of which it was susceptible, which would give it a meaning in harmony with our doctrine, and should not have asked for that explanation. I will give it, however, unasked, lest it should seem that his objection is unanswerable. The scapular is a small article, made to imitate a part of the religious habit, and worn as the badge of a pious confraternity affiliated to the Carmelite Order. According to the proper and ordinary use of it, it is conferred on persons intending to live a devout life, as an exterior sign of their special consecration to the service of God under the protection of the Blessed Virgin, and of certain special graces which are given through the prayers of the holy religious of Mount Carmel, to those who fulfil the conditions faithfully. These conditions are, to observe a strict chastity according to one's state, whether married or single, and to perform certain acts of devotion. It is understood that in order to be capable of receiving these graces, a person must take care to live always in the love and fear of God, and avoid all other mortal sins as well as those which are specifically renounced by the reception of the religious habit. This implies a diligent use of the means of grace, such as prayer and the sacraments. The advantage attributed to membership in the confraternity, and gained by fulfilling its conditions, is merely, additional grace to assist one to live a Christian life, and thus to escape perdition and gain heaven. The scapular is only a symbol of this, and the only consolation a person who wears it can receive from it at the hour of death is, that it is to him a badge and emblem of the holy life he has led, and of the promise of special grace in his last moments. {142} There is, besides this, the "Sabbatine Indulgence," as it is called, by which it is generally held, as a matter, not of faith, but of opinion, based on a private revelation, that a person may obtain a remission of the punishment of temporal pain in the other world, on the Saturday after his decease. Presupposing now the Catholic doctrine of Purgatory, and also the doctrine of Indulgences, according to which no one can enter the first unless he dies free from mortal sin, or obtain the second fully unless he is free from every stain of sin, however small; there is nothing in this pious belief prejudicial to strictness of piety or virtue. In order to escape eternal perdition, one must truly repent of every grievous sin. In order to be free from temporal punishment, one must satisfy the divine justice for past sins already remitted, and repent of all sins whatever, even the least and most trivial. The soul can never enter heaven until its holiness is consummated. Therefore the pious belief respecting the Sabbatine Indulgence cannot, without contradicting Catholic doctrine, mean more than this: that one who faithfully accomplishes all that he promises on receiving the scapular, and earnestly endeavors to purify himself from all mortal and venial sin, may hope that the removal of the stains which his soul may have at death will be accelerated by a special grace, and that, if without this special grace he would still have some short time to suffer, it may be remitted to him, or shortened, as God may see fit. The language of Catholic books, of devotion is often free and unguarded, and therefore easily susceptible of misunderstanding when taken out of its connection and pressed into a hard literalness by those who do not understand the Catholic system in its harmony. These books are written for Catholics, who are supposed to be instructed, and to have the practical sense of their religion which enables them to take up their meaning rightly. It is also presupposed that pastors and confessors will instruct and direct those under their charge in all matters relating to practical religion, and guard them against hurtful errors or mistakes in substituting minor and subsidiary practices of devotion for solid piety and the fulfilment of the weightier matters of the law. {143} Let anyone candidly examine into the spirit and scope of the sermons contained in this volume, and into those of the Mission Book, and he will see that those weightier matters are the ones which are insisted on. These are urged and enforced as essential with all possible earnestness; and how can it detract from the force of these exhortations, that an occasional recommendation of some particular devotions is also thrown in, which is like our Lord's counsel not to leave undone the paying tithes of mint, anise, and cummin? Let it be remembered that the point is not now to prove the truth of the Catholic doctrine respecting the sacraments or any inferior rites, practices, or pious works. It is to refute the charge that by these things we subvert sound morality, solid and spiritual piety, and faith in Christ as the Author of grace and justification. This charge is untrue, irrespective of the question of the claim of the Catholic Church on faith and obedience. The author of the "Price Lecture" has made it without due study and examination, on the faith of the writers of the Church he has recently joined, and into whose views he has thrown himself by a voluntary effort, without waiting to mature the results of his own theological principles. He is capable of better things than this hasty and superficial lecture. Let him be true to the dying declaration of the great Anglican divine which he quotes with so much approbation (p. 6), "I die in the faith and Church of Christ, as held before the separation of East and West," and he will no longer be found in unworthy companionship with the revilers of the Roman Church. How much more dignified and noble is the position taken by such men as the great philosopher Leibniz, in the past, and, in the present, by the great statesman and champion of the truth of revelation and Protestant orthodoxy, Guizot! {144} The latter does not hesitate to avow that he considers the cause of which he is a champion essentially identical with that of the Church of Rome. I agree with him, in the sense that the whole of the Christian tradition which is found in the various Christian bodies, and which constitutes the positive and objective creed which they cling to, is all preserved in the Catholic Church. I know the doctrine of Luther and Calvin, in which I was brought up, thoroughly, and I can testify that the positive portion of it, respecting the mystery of Redemption and the inward sanctification of the Holy Spirit, I retain unchanged. I know thoroughly, also, the Church principles of Reformed Episcopacy, and I retain all these unchanged. I have found also all that true and sound rationality, or respect for human reason and its certain science, together with all that high estimate of the moral virtues, which is professed by Unitarians, in Catholic theology. I have never lost any thing or been required to abdicate any thing which I had previously acquired in the intellectual or spiritual life, by embracing Catholic doctrine but have only added to it that which makes it more integral and complete. The real question of discussion is about that which is positive in the Roman Church, in addition to that which is common to her and Protestant communions, and not about those more primary articles of the Christian creed which form the basis of all religion and Christianity. It is the question, whether the Catholic Church is really the one, only Church, founded by Christ on the Supremacy of St. Peter and his Apostolic See of Rome; and is an infallible teacher in faith and morals. We do not ask other Christians to admit this before they have examined the evidence, or been convinced by its force. We ask them simply, _ad interim_, to do us justice, to give us a fair hearing, to observe the rules of honorable warfare in their controversies with us, and to concede our rightful claims as Christians and as free citizens. {145} Those bigoted leaders of religious factions and their great "Fourth Estate" of unemployed clerical followers, whose occupation of hanging around the skirts of our armies is gone, and who seek to stir up a religious war, by representing Catholics as the enemies of civil and religious liberty, and the progress of the Church as dangerous to our political welfare, are beyond all reason or remonstrance. Their plans are well characterised in some of the secular papers, as more nefarious than those of the men who plotted to burn the hotels of New York. They would be better employed, and make a much more efficacious war on infidelity, if they would give missions, establish churches, and make other efforts for the instruction in some principles of religion and morality of the half-million of Protestants in the city of New York, and the other millions elsewhere, who never enter a church-door. Those Protestants who may read these pages will undoubtedly, for the most part, belong to that large class who repudiate indignantly all sympathy with men of this sort, and their schemes. And on such readers I rely confidently to judge justly and generously the pure and noble character and apostolic works of the subject of this Memoir, from his life and from his own writings. I rely on them to believe my testimony, that they will find in these a specimen of the genuine character and doctrine of the Catholic priesthood, modelled after the form proposed by the Church herself. I think they will give their approbation and sympathy to all that is done by the Catholic clergy to stem the vast and swelling torrent of impiety and immorality which threatens our political and social fabric on every side, and will acknowledge the service done to the state and society, apart from the directly religious benefit to the souls of men, by the only Church and body of clergy that has a powerful sway over great masses of the population in our country. This long digression will, I fear, have seemed tedious, and irrelevant to the proper subject of this biographical narrative. {146} I have thought it necessary, however, as a background to my portrait, to paint the missionary work from which the life of Father Baker receives its principal value and significance. I return now to resume the thread of his personal history, which I left at the point where he was about to commence his public sacerdotal and missionary career. Father Baker came to the assistance of the little band who were toiling in their arduous missionary labors, in November, 1856. His first mission-sermon was preached in St. Patrick's Church, Washington, D. C., on "The Necessity of Salvation." This sermon was also the last one which he ever preached, at one of the weekly services of Lent, in the parish church of St. Paul's, New York. The debut of Father Baker as a missionary is noticed at the Records of the Missions in the following words, which were written by the faithful friend who watched over his last moments. "The Rev. Father Baker, a convert from Episcopalianism, and most highly respected and beloved as a Protestant minister in Baltimore, had been just ordained, and came for the first time to assist at this mission. He preached the opening sermon, which gave great satisfaction to all who heard it, and a promise that he will hereafter be a truly apostolical missionary." One pleasing little incident of this very interesting mission was, that the President and his lady gathered and arranged a beautiful bouquet of flowers, which were sent to decorate the altar at the ceremony of the Dedication to the Blessed Virgin, which took place near the close of the mission. After the conclusion of this mission, Father Baker was sent by his superior to Annapolis, to assist the rector of the House of Novices located there (on one of the ancient manors of the Carroll family, which had been given to the congregation by the daughter of Charles Carroll, of Carrollton), in the care of the little Catholic parish in that place. {147} The other missionaries went South, for a series of missions to be given during the winter, and finding the work there too great for their small band of four, telegraphed from Savannah to the provincial, requesting him to send Father Baker to assist them. In compliance with this request, Father Baker was sent on immediately to Savannah, and took part in the mission given in the cathedral, at that time under the care of the saintly and apostolic Dr. Barry, then administrator, and afterward bishop of the diocese. There was but little episcopal splendor to be seen about the Savannah cathedral and residence at this time. Until within a few years previously to the mission, Georgia had been included in the diocese of Charleston. Dr. Gartland, the first bishop, had procured a suitable residence for himself and his clergy, and had purchased property with a view of erecting a handsome cathedral. A short time after his consecration, Savannah was visited by a destructive tornado, which destroyed the greater part of the fine old trees which formed the principal ornament of the place, otherwise injured the city very seriously, and unroofed the bishop's house. The yellow fever broke out about the same time, in a very virulent manner; and the bishop, as also Bishop Barron, who came there to assist him, fell a victim to the epidemic. These disasters, and the debts which pressed on the congregation, put a stop for a time to all efforts to establish matters on a suitable footing. After Dr. Barry's consecration, the old church was refitted and furnished in a way to make it quite respectable for the cathedral of a new diocese, and a spacious mansion was purchased for the episcopal residence. But at this time Dr. Barry was living, like a bishop _in partibus infidelium_, in a small and poor frame dwelling-house, containing only four or five rooms, and the clergy were putting up, in the best way they could, with rooms over the sacristy of the church. Just round the corner, an aged negro, with a long white beard, who was a Methodist preacher, might be seen sitting all the day long in the sun on a little stool, holding a cow by a rope around her horns, while she nibbled the grass which grew along the streets; and the old gentleman chatted with the passers-by, or prepared his sermons for the next Sunday, highly delighted at the friendly salutations which the fathers always gave him as they passed by. {148} Every now and then a black nurse passed along the street, carrying or wheeling the little white infant of her charge; or a troop of negro boys and their young masters, playing together with the utmost familiarity. The sunny, Southern atmosphere was vocal with the merry, free-and-easy sounds of laughing, chatting mirth, or work carried on like a play without much care or hurry, so characteristic of a city in the far South. Savannah is a very beautiful and picturesque place, where, at that time, Southern life and manners could be seen at the greatest advantage; and the novelty of the scene gave it a great zest to those of our number who had not seen it before. The clergy were, most of them, old veteran missionaries, brought to this country by the celebrated Bishop England, full of rich and piquant anecdotes of their past experience among the wild, sparsely-settled regions of Georgia and the neighboring States, related with inimitable wit and humor. [Footnote 6] The mission was still further enlivened by a visit to Savannah from Archbishop Hughes, accompanied by his amiable secretary, who were making a tour of recreation to restore the archbishop's shattered health; and from Dr. Lynch, soon after appointed to the see of Charleston. [Footnote 6: One of these good clergymen, the Rev. Peter Whelan, during the late civil war, remained a long time among our prisoners at Andersonville, and spent four hundred dollars in gold at one time in purchasing bread for their necessities.] This mission was, however, no play-spell for the missionaries. Besides the ordinary labor of preaching and hearing the confessions of a multitude of people, it was necessary to search out the people themselves, and bring them to church to hear the sermons. At that time, the Southern towns received the _débris_ of foreign emigration, and were filled during the winter months by a loose floating population of Northern laborers, who were without employment at home. {149} Hence, there was a larger proportion than elsewhere of the most degenerate and demoralised class of Catholics, living in complete neglect of their religious and moral duties, and beyond the reach of the ordinary ministrations of the Church. Savannah has several suburbs and purlieus, rejoicing in the names of Yammacraw, Robertsville, and Old Fort, crowded with squalid hovels, drinking-shops, sailors' boarding-houses, and dens of thieves and smugglers, representing in a small way the scenes which Dickens delights in describing. A mission in the cathedral might be given ten times over, and the news of it never reach the denizens of these places. Accordingly, the missionaries divided the several districts between them, and undertook to beat up the quarters of sin, vice, and misery, in the hope of rescuing some of these forlorn and abandoned souls. It would hardly be safe for any one but a Catholic priest to undertake such a work, especially in the evening, and certainly no one else would have any hope of success. The work was done, however, very thoroughly, and, in consequence, the church was crowded by that class of persons who were in most need of a mission, and who had never been reached before. An immediate and extensive reformation was the result. The grog-shops were deserted, which before were filled from morning until late at night, the sound of cursing and quarrelling was hushed, the darker deeds of sin ceased, and the great mass of these poor, lost souls began to listen to the eternal truths, and to seek for the way that would bring them back to God. Many, engaged in dishonest practices, abandoned their unlawful traffic, and made restitution of their ill-gotten gains. Great numbers of those who had abandoned the sacraments, and even ceased going to church, for ten, twenty, or thirty years, came with great fervor and earnestness to confession. Some of the poor slaves also, as well Methodists as those who were Catholics, attended eagerly on the instructions of the mission. {150} One old Methodist negress was asked by her mistress, or some one else who noticed her constant attendance, if she liked the mission; to which she replied: "Oh, Lor! yes, missus; I'se bound to be there, if I can get only one eye in, every time." Another grown-up slave girl, who had never been baptized, was most anxious to receive baptism, and induced her mistress to ask me to baptize her. I was very reluctant to do it, fearing lest she might not be sufficiently instructed and prepared in her moral dispositions to begin a really Christian life, without a longer probation; and therefore refused to baptize her during the mission. After the last sermon she went nearly frantic, and made loud exclamations that she wished to be taken out of the devil's hands, and the father would not do it, but was going away, leaving her in his power. Touched by her entreaties, and finding that her mistress had taught her the rudiments of the catechism, I instructed her for some days, and endeavored to impress upon her mind especially, that if she wished for the graces of baptism and the friendship of God, she must renounce all sin and live a good and holy life. So fearful was she that she might sin, and receive baptism unworthily, that for a day before her baptism she would not speak a word to any person, not even her mistress. She refused to speak even when she was asked about her sponsors and her baptismal dress, and her whole demeanor at her baptism was like that of one oppressed with the most intense sentiment of religious awe, and of the sacredness of the promises she was making to God. It is not to be supposed that every bad Catholic was reformed, or that, of those who were really brought to a resolution to mend their lives, all of them persevered. The hydra-headed monster of vice is not killed by a blow, nor can we hope ever to exterminate sin by any means, even those which have a divine efficacy. It is a continual warfare which we have to wage, by both spiritual and moral weapons, which the free will can always resist. {151} God alone has coercive power over the spirit of man, and He will not exert it to compel him to obey His law. Temptations to sin ever beset the human will, especially in a corrupt, irreligious, and immoral state of society. The Catholic Church is not intended to be a society of saints who have already attained perfection, but a training and reformatory school for the human race. It has no means of charming or mesmerizing the human will into sanctity, and its gracious influences do not supersede the struggle for life which exists in the spiritual as in the natural world. It has all the means of sanctifying the human race, and of elevating men to the summit of possible human virtue, limited only by the extent to which the free human will co-operates with grace. It must actually produce these results on a great scale, in order to prove that it is the Church; because God would not have created it for this purpose, foreseeing its essential failure to fulfil its work and attain its predestined end. It is easy enough to show that the Church possesses this note of sanctity, correctly understood in this way. But it is perfectly true also that the free-will of man, by its failure and perversion, hinders the Church to a vast extent from exhibiting its regenerating and sanctifying power. Great numbers of individuals in the Catholic Church live and act in contradiction to their faith, neglect or abuse the means of grace, and dishonor religion by their conduct. The only means which the Church has of contending with this evil, and reclaiming these unworthy members from a sinful life, are moral means, acting on the mind and conscience. Missions are among the most powerful and efficacious of these means, and their efficacy is shown, not in eradicating sin, or liberating human nature from its intrinsic liability and propensity to sin, but in checking and counteracting its violence, and reclaiming a great number of individuals from its influence. {152} If they actually do this, if they have a perceptible influence in reforming and renovating the demoralised portion of the Catholic community, heightening the restraining power of faith and conscience among the mass of the people, and producing many permanent fruits in the increase of piety and morality, they are successful, and their value is established. It is beyond a question that they do this to an extent which can only be understood by those who are engaged in them, or who have studied their working on a grand scale. To return to the Savannah mission. I had a good opportunity to judge of its permanent fruits when, two years afterward, I returned there, and went through the same quarters of the town where we had gone to drum up the people to the mission, in making a collection for the new congregation of St. Paul. Many of the very poorest dwellings I found neat and orderly; the pious pictures blessed during the mission hanging upon the walls; the children clean and tidy; sometimes an old man sitting at the door, reading the mission-book; the wives and mothers evidently cheerful and contented, the best sign that their husbands were sober and kind; the expressions of grateful remembrance of the mission warm and frequent; the signs of moral improvement everywhere, and the church crowded on Sunday. It is not to be supposed that the body of the Catholic congregation of Savannah were like this lowest class I have described. I have dwelt more minutely on their condition, and the good done among them, mainly because the small comparative size of the place, and the thorough visitation which was made, brought us into a more close contact with their miseries, and enabled us to see more clearly what can be done to relieve them, than is usually the case. I have wished to show what the hardest and most repulsive part of the work of the missionary is, and to give a true picture of the nature and efficacy of the means used to raise up and reform and save the most demoralised class of the Catholic population throughout the country, and especially in the large towns, where this class is most numerous. {153} I wish, also, before resuming the particular narrative of F. Baker's life, to show what was the work for which he left the ease and elegance and attractive charm of his earlier position as an Episcopalian clergyman, fulfilling the light duty of reading prayers and preaching quiet, well-written, polished discourses for the _élite_ of Baltimore society. The mass of the people who were brought to the mission in Savannah by the personal visits of the fathers had never been seen in the church previously. They were the _débris_ that the tide of emigration had deposited there, and many of them only chance-residents of the town. The ordinary church-going congregation contained, as usual, its very large proportion of Easter communicants, with a smaller but still numerous class of devout and fervent Catholics who approached the sacraments frequently. The majority of them belonged to the humbler walks of life, although there were a considerable number whose position in worldly society was more elevated. F. Baker arrived in Savannah, when the mission was about half over, and took his share in the labor of preaching and hearing confessions. At the close of it, after a few days' rest, three of the missionaries, of whom he was one, commenced a series of missions in one part of the diocese, and the two others began another which embraced the smaller parishes. The smaller band went to Macon, Columbus, and Atlanta, rejoining their companions subsequently at Charleston. As F. Baker went in another direction, I shall confine myself to the narrative of the missions in which he was engaged, and pass over the others, merely pausing for a moment to notice a letter written by a Protestant gentleman in Macon, to the _United States Catholic Miscellany_, of Charleston, as an evidence of the impression often made by missions upon the minds of candid and intelligent Protestants. The letter is as follow's:-- {154} "In company with many of our most distinguished citizens, I have had the pleasure of hearing most of the sermons delivered, and witnessing the accompanying exercises connected with their mission, and but express the united and universal sentiment entertained, when I say that they were exceedingly interesting and instructive, and have served to dissipate many of the vulgar prejudices that hung like a mist upon the public mind, and, like a cold-damp, mildewed reason and honest judgment. Sufficient testimony of this result may be found in the fact that a number of Protestant gentlemen called upon Mr. Walworth yesterday, and urgently requested him to deliver one more sermon before his departure, which he consented to do this evening. I would send you a copy of the correspondence, but it would be too voluminous for the brevity of this letter; suffice it to say it was complimentary, no less in the act itself than in the manner in which the request was conveyed. "I must take this occasion of expressing my gratification at the result adverted to, for though I am not a member, nor ever have been, of the Catholic Church, its piety and religious principles--the purity, integrity, ability, learning, and eloquence of its teachers and preachers--the bright links of patience, endurance, and fidelity, by which it is held to the early ages of Christianity--its unity of action, consistency of precept and practice, and conformity of theory and doctrine, as well as the great lights of intellect that have shed lustre upon it in the past and present--men whose genius has elevated them above the gloom of dying centuries to overflow history with glory--these have commended the Catholic Church favorably to my judgment; and regarding its onward progress and increasing popularity with no jaundiced sectarian eye or jealous faction-spirit, but with the extension of civilization and Christianity--I feel the pressure of no petty, vulgar prejudice in wishing it, with all other Christian organizations, 'God speed;' and if this sentiment be in hostility with Protestantism, as for myself and it I say, 'perish the connection'--'live' the enlightened liberality and intelligence of civilized and educated man. "Yours, very truly, etc. "Macon, _December_ 31, 1856." {155} From Savannah, F. Baker, with two companions, went to give a mission in Augusta. On the pages of the Mission Records several interesting incidents of this mission are related. On the first Sunday morning of the mission, three gentlemen called on the fathers, all of whom, it appeared, were converts. One of them was called Dr. W. B., the second, his nephew, Dr. M., and the third was the overseer of Dr. B.'s plantation. This Dr. B. had been received into the Catholic Church some months previously, and had entered a Catholic church for the first time that morning. He was a man of fine and genteel appearance, with gray hair and a long, black beard, an intelligent and educated physician. So great was his excitement, and so wonderful did every thing which he saw that may appear through the magnifying glass of his imagination, that on his return home that night, at eleven o'clock, he awoke his brother and made him get up and light a fire, that he might relate the events of the day. As a sample of the proportion in which he viewed the whole, it may suffice to say that he described one of the fathers as seven and a-half feet high--at least six inches taller than the Georgia giant. The brother alluded to, also a physician and planter, made his appearance a day or two later. He was quite an elderly gentleman, with an intelligent countenance and a magnificent patriarchal beard. A painter could not find a better head for an Apostle, or for one of the ancient Bishops or Fathers of the Church than his. He was a man with an intellect like Brownson's, and full of information. He became a Catholic a few years ago from reading Brownson's Review. Since that time he has been a great champion of the Church, and, through his influence, his own family, his brother and sister, his nephew and some others, have also been converted. {156} One of the latter was then residing in Dr. B.'s own family, and was leading a most remarkably penitential life. This gentleman (a Mr. S.), of high birth and education, was formerly a lawyer, and a married man of large property. He was renowned for his courage, and had fought with one of the most celebrated duellists of South Carolina, named R. This gentleman lost his property and was abandoned by his wife. About seven years before he had become a Catholic, he lived for a considerable time with his brother, an unprincipled and ferocious man, who scarcely allowed him a bare pittance. He was dressed in rags, was barefooted, and lived on bread which he baked himself. After a few years, when Dr. B. had become a Catholic, and opened a small chapel on his own plantation, Mr. S. appeared there one day at Mass in his miserable plight. Dr. R. invited him to stay with him, and gave him a small office to live in, and all other things requisite for his comfort. Here he had been living ever since, leading the life of a saint, and passing a great portion of his time in reading Catholic books, especially Brownson's Review, which he knew almost by heart. The Doctor said that the only thing which could excite his anger, was to hear anyone speak against Brownson, or contradict any thing he says. As an instance of his penance, I will relate how, according to Dr. B.'s account, he attempted to pass one Lent. He had been reading the Lives of the Fathers of the Desert, and he endeavored to imitate their example precisely and to the letter. His whole food consisted of a small quantity of bread, and during the last three days he wanted to fast entirely, but Dr. B. threatened that, if he did, he would send a little negro for Father B., to excommunicate him. He was wasted to a skeleton, and did not recover the effects of his fasting for six months afterward. {157} On one occasion, Mr. S. found a poor, sick negro, with no one to attend him, and not contented with waiting on him and taking care of him, as he was constantly in the habit of doing for all the sick within several miles' distance, he washed his feet, and, for want of a towel, wiped them with his pocket-handkerchief. It was necessary to watch him, lest he might give away his clothes to the negroes and when he needed new clothes, they were put secretly in his way, and the old ones removed. Others in this neighborhood, who were not yet Catholics, were so well disposed that they had their children baptized. Edgefield and the country round about was formerly celebrated for the lawless and violent character of the population, for the frequency of murders, and for the bitter prejudice existing against the Catholic Church; so much so, that a priest could not obtain the Court-House to preach in. When the elder Dr. B. became a Catholic, Dr. W. B. declared that he would burn up his wife and children and his whole house before they should become Catholics, and any priest who should chance to come near him. Another gentleman, since a convert, said that, if one of his children should become a Catholic, he would take him by the heels and dash out his brains against a stone wall. Dr. M., when he went to study medicine with his uncle, the elder Dr. B., made a vow that he would never enter the chapel and never desert the faith of his fathers; and his parents told him on leaving home that, if he became a Catholic, he should never cross the Savannah River again or see their faces. After some months, he became silent and melancholy. For a while he concealed the cause, but at last, one evening he told his aunt that he could hold out no longer, and was a Catholic at heart. Shortly after receiving his medical diploma, he determined to renounce the practice of medicine, and has recently been ordained to the priesthood. {158} At Edgefield a lot of seven acres was purchased in the middle of the town, for a church, to be built of brown stone, in the Gothic style. Five gentlemen had already subscribed sixteen hundred dollars for the church, and Father B. was collecting for the same purpose. There was a general inclination throughout the whole town to embrace the Catholic faith, and already there is a small band of the best Catholics in the country there--souls that have been led by the great God Himself, by the wonderful ways of His most holy grace. Dr. B. has since died, and what has been the fate of the little congregation, and of the beautiful church which was commenced, during the troubles and miseries of the civil war, I know not. They have not, however, hindered the Catholics of Augusta from completing and paying for a large and costly church, the successor of a very good and commodious edifice of brick where the mission was given. After leaving Augusta, we went to Savannah once more, and on the 29th of January went on board the little steamer Gen. Clinch, which was afterward turned into a gunboat during the civil war, to begin our voyage by the inland route to St. Augustine, Florida. This inland route has some peculiar and picturesque features. The steamer passes down the Savannah River, with its banks lined with the green and gold orange trees, until, near the mouth, it turns into its proper route, leading through a succession of small sounds, connected by narrow, serpentine rivers, where you seem to be sailing over the meadows, usually in sight of the ocean, and quite often aground for some hours at a time. The steamer was very small and very crowded, our progress very leisurely and interrupted by several long stoppages, so that our voyage was protracted for five days. It is seldom that a more motley or singular and amusing group of passengers is collected in a small cabin. {159} Besides the three Catholic priests, who were to the others the greatest curiosities on board, we had an army lieutenant, since then the commander of a _corps d'armée_ in the great civil war, an old wizard who was consulting his familiar spirits incessantly for the amusement or information of the passengers; a plantation doctor, a wild young Arkansas lawyer of the fire-eating type, a professor of mathematics, a crotchety, good-humored New York farmer, with very peculiar religious opinions, a young man who professed himself a universal sceptic, two or three gentlemen of education and polished manners, who were not at all singular, but appeared quite so in such an odd assemblage; and some others in no way remarkable. The cramped accommodations, the long voyage, and the usual _bonhommie_ which prevails on such occasions were well fitted to draw out all the oddities and idiosyncrasies of the company. The spiritualist, who was an uneducated and uncouth specimen of humanity, with a great deal of native shrewdness, and a good-humored, loquacious disposition, was the center of attraction. The professor and the philosophical farmer engaged with him in a long and earnest discussion of spiritualism, which ended in his exhibiting his powers as a consulter of the spirits. Most of the passengers made trial of his skill in this respect, although his performance was the most patent of silly impostures, only amusing from its absurdity. The professor tried him sorely by asking him a question which seemed to have caused himself many an hour of anxious and fruitless thought, and which he appeared to despair of solving metaphysically: "Can God annihilate space?" The old gentleman's spirit did not appear to have investigated this question to his own complete satisfaction, for he gave him no positive answer. He was silent for a moment, with a puzzled look, evidently fearing a trap, and at last answered, "I don't know, but I guess He could if He tried; He made it, and I guess He could annihilate it." Just as the professor was going to retire to his berth, the old man took revenge by telling him that he had just been informed by the spirits that one of his children was sick of scarlet fever. The wizard left the boat at Brunswick, but as the conversation had taken a religious and philosophical turn at first, it continued in that direction, the two individuals before mentioned being the principal interlocutors. {160} We did not join much in it, as it was evidently distasteful to several of the company, who wished to read quietly or converse on ordinary topics. Before we parted, however, one of our number took the opportunity which offered itself of having a little pleasant and rational discussion with the professor and one or two others, who were really intelligent and well-informed. On New Year's Day we remained several hours at St. Mary's, Georgia, where we found the mayor of the place to be a Catholic gentleman, of Acadian descent, and were hospitably entertained at his house. The boat passed the night at Fernandina, and the next day we went out of the St. Mary's River, across a short and dangerous stretch of ocean between a line of breakers and the shore, into the St. John's, and up that romantic river, so full of historical associations. Friday evening saw us befogged above Jacksonville, and on Saturday morning we learned to our dismay that our captain was going past our landing, and on to Pilatka, which would keep us on board his miserable little craft until the next week, and prevent the opening of the mission on the Sunday. Touching for a few moments at Fleming's Island, we found friends at the little dock, who were passing the winter on the island, and who informed us that we could go from there that afternoon to our destination. We debarked accordingly, our friend the professor in company with us, and were refreshed with a good breakfast at the hotel where our friends were lodging, and a stroll around the little island. On the arrival of the steamer, the whole party went on board and proceeded to Picolata, where we took stage-coaches for St. Augustine, arriving there on Saturday evening. About halfway between Picolata and St. Augustine there is a post-house, where, in the last Florida War with the Seminole Indians, a party of travelling actors were surprised and murdered by Indians, who dressed themselves in their fantastic costumes, and in that guise made a hostile demonstration in the neighborhood of St. Augustine. {161} To Americans, this old town seems to have a vast antiquity, claiming as it does the respectable age of three centuries. The Catholic church here is almost as old as Protestantism, and a brief of St. Pius V., in regard to some of the religious affairs of this colony, is still extant. There are remnants of an old wall in several places, and a large fortress built in Spanish times, and called the castle of St. Marco, where you may yet see the marks of the cannon-shot fired at the invasion of Oglethorpe from Georgia. This fort might serve as a scene for the plot of a new "Mysteries of Udolfo," it is so unlike any thing modern, and so thoroughly Spanish and mediæval. It is not, however, of a sort to make one regret the past. Its dark, damp casemates look like prisons, especially one frightful dungeon, which is a cell within a cell, without any embrasure, and admitting no light or air except that which comes through the door opening into the outer casemate. This was the cell of the greatest criminals. In one of these casemates, Wildcat, the celebrated Indian chief, was once confined with a companion. Although cruel and blood-thirsty, Wildcat was a great warrior, and a man gifted with a high order of genius, an orator, a poet, and a true cavalier of the forest. On pretence of illness, he and his companion reduced their bulk as much as possible by a low diet and purgative medicines, and by the aid of a knife, which he had secreted and used as a spike by thrusting it into the wall of soft concrete, with a rope dexterously made from strips of his bed-clothes, he clambered to the high and narrow embrasure, squeezed himself through, not without scraping the skin from his breast, and let himself down into the moat. His companion followed him, but fell to the ground, breaking his leg. Nevertheless, Wildcat carried him off, seized a stray mule, and escaped to his tribe in the forest. {162} After the conclusion of the war, he went to Mexico, where he became the alcalde of an Indian village, and did his new country essential service by leading a body of Indian warriors, armed with Mississippi rifles, against a band of filibusters from the United States. Osceola, the half-breed king of the Seminoles, who was not only a hero, but a just and humane man, was also captured near St. Augustine, by treachery and bad faith, and confined in this fortress for a time, but afterward removed to Charleston, where he died of a broken heart. The great mahogany treasure-chest of Don Juan Menendez is still remaining in the fortress, and in one of the casemates are remnants of a rude stone altar and holy-water stoups, marking the site of a chapel. The fortress is kept in good preservation by our Government, and a noble sea-wall extends from it to the barracks at the other end of the town, which are established in an ancient Franciscan monastery. A great part of the old city is in ruins. The old Spanish families left the country when it was ceded by Spain to the United States, and the resident inhabitants are Minorcans, negroes, and a small number of settlers from the other portions of the United States. The Minorcans are descendants of a body of colonists, brought to Florida under false pretences by an English speculator, who enslaved them, and kept them for a long time in that state before they became aware that there was any way of escaping from it. When they did take courage to shake off the yoke, they removed to the Spanish colony of St. Augustine, where they retain their language, a dialect of the Spanish, with their ancient, simple character and habits. The illustrious Spanish names which some of them bear amused us greatly. Sanchez was the proprietor of a line of slow coaches. Suarez had charge of F. Madeore's farm, and Ximenes served Mass. The church is a large Spanish structure, built, as are most of the houses, of soft concrete formed from sea-shells. On a green in front of it stands the only remaining monument, erected in commemoration of the formation of the Spanish Constitution of 1814. {163} The tower has a chime of small bells, which are rung in a most joyous, clashing style, according to the Spanish custom, for festive occasions, and with a peculiarly plaintive peal for deaths and funerals. The cemetery is called Tolomato, which was the name of an Indian village formerly occupying its site. The ruins of an ancient mission chapel are still to be seen there, where F. Roger, a French Jesuit, was murdered by an apostate Indian chief and his warriors. After killing F. Roger, the band proceeded to another chapel, called Nuestra Señora de Leche, where they found a priest just robed for Mass. He requested the chief to allow him to say Mass, and his desire was granted, the savages prostrating themselves with their faces to the ground while he performed the holy function, lest the sight of him should soften their hearts. After Mass he knelt at the foot of the altar, and received a blow from the tomahawk which made him a martyr. Tolomato contains also the beautiful tomb erected by the Cubans over the grave of the Rev. Dr. Varela, a learned, holy, and patriotic priest, a native of the Island of Cuba, and a member of the Spanish Cortes which established the Constitution. Banished from his native country, where his memory has always been fondly cherished, he passed the greater part of a long life as a laborious parish priest in New York, and died in St. Augustine. There is a beautiful chapel over his grave, with an altar of marble and mahogany, and a heavy marble slab in the center of the pavement, containing the simple but eloquent inscription: "_Al Padre Varela los Cubanos_"-The Cubans to Father Varela. The mission in St. Augustine absorbed the whole attention of the Catholic population, who formed a large majority of the inhabitants. Great numbers of them gathered to welcome the fathers on their arrival, and whenever they went out they were met and greeted by groups of these simple, warm-hearted people, and followed by a troop of children, who live there in a perpetual holiday. {164} There was scarcely any business or work done there at any time; the climate and the fertility both of the land and water in the means of subsistence furnishing the necessaries of life to the poorer classes without much trouble. Most of these pass their time in fishing, and even this occupation was intermitted, so that on Friday there was not a fish to be found in the market. The people seemed literally to have nothing whatever to do; the fort and barracks were garrisoned by one soldier with his wife and children; the government of the place was a sinecure; the mails came only twice a week; behind the city lay the interminable, uninhabited everglade; before it the Atlantic Ocean, with its waters and breezes warmed by the Gulf Stream, and unvisited by any sails to disturb its solitude, except at rare intervals. Although it was midwinter, the weather was commonly as pleasant and the sun as warm as it is in New England in the month of June. I have never witnessed such a scene of dreamy, listless, sunshiny indolence, where every thing seemed to combine to lull the mind and senses into complete forgetfulness of the existence of an active world. To the people, however, it was one of the most exciting periods of their lives. The presence of several strange priests, the continual sermons and religious exercises, gave an unwonted air of life and activity to the precincts of the old church, and roused them to an unusual animation. Drunkenness, dishonesty, and the graver vices were almost unknown among them. The negroes were found to be an extremely virtuous, innocent, and docile class of people. Honest, sober, observant of the laws of marriage, faithful and contented in their easy employments, which seemed to suit their disposition very well, and in many cases not only pious, but very intelligent, and exhibiting fine traits of character, they were the best evidence we had yet seen of what the Catholic religion can do for this oppressed and ill-used race. {165} One of them, a pilot on one of the steamboats navigating the St. John's River, impressed me as one of the most admirable men of his class in life, for capacity and conscientious Christian principle, I have ever met. Another, who was a freedman of the celebrated John Randolph, and for many years his personal attendant, was not only intelligent and well informed, but a well-bred gentleman in his manners and appearance. The most interesting incident of the mission was the conversion of an ordnance sergeant of the regular army, who was in charge of the fortress. This brave soldier had distinguished himself in the Mexican war, by the recapture of a cannon which had been taken in one of the battles by the Mexicans, and by his general character for gallantry and fidelity to his duties. His wife and children were Catholics, but he himself had lived until that time without any religion. On New-Year's night, as he sat alone in the barracks, after his family had retired, he began to think over his past life, and resolved to begin at once to live for the great end for which God had created him. He knelt down and said a few prayers, to ask the grace and blessing of God on his good resolutions. His prayers were heard, and during the mission he was received into the Catholic Church and admitted to the sacraments with all the signs of sincerity and fervor which were to be expected from one of such a resolute and manly character. I wish to mention one interesting circumstance which he related to me, as showing the power of good example in men of high station in the world. He told me that the first impression he received of the truth and excellence of the Catholic religion, was received from witnessing the admirable life of that accomplished Christian gentleman and soldier, Captain Gareschè, to whose company he belonged. Many readers will recall, as they read these records, the admirable and glorious close of this officer's career on the field of battle. {166} During the Western campaign of General Rosecrans, Lieutenant-Colonel Garesché was his chief of staff. Before the battle of Stone River, he received Holy Communion, and was observed afterward alone under a tree, reading the "Imitation of Christ." During the engagement, one of the fiercest and most bloody of the civil war, he rode, by the side of his gallant general, through a storm of shot and shell, and by his side he fell, besprinkling his beloved commander with his blood, as he sank upon the field to die, and yielded up his noble life to his country and to God. The labors of this mission were so light that it was more like holiday than work for us. The presence of a number of very agreeable and intelligent Catholic gentlemen and ladies, who were visitors in the place, and some of whom were old friends, added very much to the liveliness of the mission, and to our own enjoyment of its peculiar attendant circumstances. One of these was the Abbé Le Blond, a dear friend of ours and of all who knew him, a priest of Montreal, who was gradually dying of consumption, yet full of vivacity and activity, improving the remnant of his days by his labors of love and zeal, and his works of charity in different parts [of] the South where he passed his winters. He died eventually in Rome. Another was Lieutenant McDonald, of the British Royal Navy, and also, for some time before leaving England, a captain in the Queen's Guards, a Highland gentleman of a family that has always been true to the faith, also since deceased. The quiet city of St. Augustine, as well as all the other scenes and places where we passed that winter on our missionary tour, has since then been visited by the desolating breath of war. Probably all is changed, and greater changes yet are coming with the new issues of peace--changes which, there is reason to hope, will advance both the religious and temporal welfare of the people. Florida may yet become a populous State, and the handful of Catholics in it swell into a number sufficient to make a flourishing diocese. {167} Immediately after the close of the mission, F. Baker proceeded by sea to Charleston where he met the other two missionaries who had been at work in Georgia, and commenced a mission in the cathedral of that city. His two companions were detained for a time in St. Augustine by the sudden and severe illness of one of them, and they went on a little later, returning by the same leisurely route by which they came to Savannah, and thence to Charleston, where the mission was already in progress. Charleston possessed three Catholic churches, and its Catholic population numbered from five to six thousand. All the congregations were invited to the mission, and a large number of them did attend from St. Mary's and St. Patrick's, together with the whole body of the cathedral parish. The same work performed by the missionaries in Savannah had been gone through in Charleston, in scouring the lanes and alleys of the city to bring up the stragglers, and the great cathedral was accordingly crowded, morning and night. First of all, two hundred bright and well-instructed children received communion in a body, and afterward, through the course of the mission, three thousand adults, among whom were twenty converts to the faith. Father Baker never, during the whole course of his missionary life, enjoyed any thing so much as this Southern tour, and especially his stay at Charleston, the most delightful city of the South. After the long seclusion of three years in a convent, which had impaired his health and vigor, the recreation and pleasure of such a trip wad most beneficial and delightful to him. The work in which he was engaged, besides the higher satisfaction which it gave to his zeal and charity, had also the charm and excitement of novelty, without the pressure of too arduous and excessive labor. At Charleston, he was already prepared by his previous experience and practice to take a full share in the principal sermons, and to give them that peculiar tone and effect which is characteristic of mission sermons, and makes them _sui generis_ among all others. {168} All the circumstances were calculated to call the noblest powers of his mind and the warmest emotions of his heart into full play. The cathedral was large, beautiful, and of a fine ecclesiastical style in all its arrangements. The adjoining presbytery, which had been built for a convent, and all the surroundings, were both appropriate for the residence of a body of cathedral clergy and pleasing to the eye of taste. The clergymen themselves, with their distinguished head, afterward the bishop of the diocese, were men of accomplished learning and genial character, whose kindness and hospitality knew no bounds, and whose zeal made them efficient fellow-laborers in the work of the mission. The congregation itself had many features of unusual interest. Having been long established, and carefully watched over, since the illustrious Bishop England organized the diocese, containing a large permanent population of various national descent and of all classes of society, not a few of whom were converts from South Carolina families, an unusually large number of intelligent young men, trained up to a great extent under the care of the clergy, and thus giving scope and affording a field for a man like F. Baker to display his special gifts to the greatest advantage and profit--it is not surprising that he should have called out, both in his public discharge of duty and in private and social intercourse, that same warm admiration which had followed him in the former period of his life. In his sermons, he went far above his former level, and began to develop that combination of the best and most perfect elements of sacred eloquence, which, in the estimation of the most impartial and competent judges, placed him in the first rank of preachers. The present bishop of Charleston, whose pre-eminent learning and high qualities of mind are well known, pronounced one of F. Baker's discourses a perfect sermon, and the best he had ever heard. {169} The Catholics of Charleston never saw Father Baker again; but they never forgot him, and he never forgot them; for, during the rest of his too short life, he recurred frequently to the remembrance of that mission, which was so rich in the highest kind of pleasure, as well as spiritual profit and blessing. At that time, all was peace. Sumter was solitary and silent, untenanted by a single soldier. Fort Moultrie and Sullivan's Island, and the beautiful battery and the bay were calm and peaceful, where, a few years later, all was black and angry with the terrible thunder-storm of war. Blackened ruins are all that remain of that beautiful cathedral and the pleasant home of the clergy. Some of those clergymen have died in attending the sick soldiers of the United States, and others are scattered in different places. Many of those fine young men and bright boys have left their bodies on the battle-field, or lost the bloom and vigor of their youth in the unwholesome camp or hospital or military prison. The good Sisters have been driven from one shelter to another, by the terrible necessities of a desperate warfare, whose miseries they have courageously striven to alleviate by their heroic charity. Charleston has been desolated, and the Church of Charleston has shared in the common ruin. Nevertheless, there is every reason to hope that this temporary period of desolation will be succeeded in due time by one more auspicious for the solid and extensive progress of the Catholic religion than any which has yet been seen, in that vast region where the eloquent voice of Bishop England proclaimed the blessed faith of the true and apostolic Church of Christ. After the conclusion of the Charleston mission, F. Baker returned to Annapolis, and remained there in charge of the little parish attached to the convent, until the following September. One of his companions, the invalid of St. Augustine, went to Cuba to re-establish his health; and the other three, after giving several other missions in New York State, returned also to summer quarters. {170} The missionary labors in which F. Baker had been thus far engaged, were, comparatively speaking, but a light and pleasant prelude to the continuous and arduous missionary career of a little more than seven years, which he commenced in the autumn of 1857. At the very outset he was obliged to make a decision of a very grave and important matter, which resulted in a still more complete separation from the scenes and associates of his past life, and threw him more completely upon a pure and conscientious devotion to his priestly duties for the sake of God alone, as his only consolation in this world. One of our number was at that time in Rome, for the purpose of obtaining from the chief authority a settlement of certain difficulties which had arisen, and which impeded the successful and harmonious prosecution of the missions. The question was finally settled by a separation of five American Redemptorists, by a brief of the Holy Father, from their former congregation, and the formation of the new Congregation of St. Paul, under episcopal authority. F. Baker was for the first time informed of the reasons for appealing to the decision of the Holy Father, at the mission of St. James's Church, Newark, which commenced on the 26th of September, 1857. I have no intention of exposing the history of the difference which arose between us and our former religious superiors, or of making a criticism upon their conduct. If the providence of God ordered events in such a way that a new congregation should be formed for a special purpose, it is nothing new or strange that men, having a different vocation, and whose views and aims were cast in a different mould, should with the most conscientious intentions, be unable to coincide in judgment or act in concert. There is room in the Catholic Church for every kind of religious organization, suiting all the varieties of mind and character and circumstance. {171} If collisions and misunderstandings often come between those who have the same great end in view, this is the result of human infirmity, and only shows how imperfect and partial are human wisdom and human virtue. All that I am concerned to show is, that F. Baker did not swerve from his original purpose in choosing the religious state. He had never been discontented with his state, or with his superiors. He was still in the first fervor of his vocation, and had just made a strict and exact retreat. He deliberated for some weeks within his own mind, without saying or doing any thing to commit himself to any particular line of conduct. When he finally made up his mind to cast in his lot with his missionary companions, and to abide with them the decision of the Holy Father, it was solely in view of serving God and his fellow-men in the most perfect manner. For the congregation where he was trained to the religious and ecclesiastical state, he always retained a sincere esteem and affection. He did not ask the Pope for a dispensation from his vows in order to be relieved from a burdensome obligation, but only on the condition that it seemed best to him to terminate the difficulty which had arisen in that way. When the dispensation was granted, he did not change his life for a more easy one. He resisted a pressing solicitation to return to Baltimore as a secular priest, and continued until his death to labor in a missionary life, and to practise the poverty, the obedience, the assiduity in prayer and meditation, and the seclusion from the world, which belong to the religious state. Let no one, therefore, who is disposed to yield to temptations against his vocation, and to abandon the religious state from weariness, tepidity, or any unworthy motive, think to find any encouragement in the example of F. Baker; for his austere, self-denying, and arduous life will give him only rebuke, and not encouragement. {172} During the entire autumn and winter of this year, F. Baker and his companions were occupied in a continuous course of large and successful missions, in the parishes of St. James, Newark; Cold Spring and Poughkeepsie, on the Hudson; St. John's, Utica, N. Y.; Brandywine, Del.; Trenton, N. J.; Burlington, Brandon, East and West Rutland, Vt.; Plattsburg, Saratoga, and Little Falls, New York. With loyal hearts we continued to obey our superiors, and fulfil our obligations as Redemptorists, until the supreme authority in the Church released us by his decree. This decree was issued on the 6th of March, 1858, and received by us on the 6th of April. After the Mission of Little Falls, F. Baker was directed by the Provincial to return to Annapolis, and although fatigued by the missions, and aware that his dispensation was on the way, yet, true to the letter to his principle of obedience, he obeyed at once. The other three missionaries passed the Holy Week and Easter in the convent of New York, in Third street, and, after receiving the official copy of the Papal decree, bade farewell to the congregation where we had passed so many happy years, and witnessed so many edifying examples of high virtue and devoted zeal, to enter upon a new and untried undertaking. Our first asylum was the home of Geo. V. Hecker, Esq., who kindly gave up to our use a portion of his house as a little temporary convent, where we remained some weeks, saying Mass in his beautiful private chapel, which was completely furnished with every thing necessary for that purpose. The Bishop of Newark had made an arrangement to receive us under his jurisdiction, as soon as our relation to our congregation was terminated, and faculties from the diocese of New York were obtained from the archbishop. We continued to follow our accustomed mode of life, and obey our former Superior of the Missions. After a short time we gave a mission at Watertown, in the diocese of Albany, and were not a little encouraged by receiving, late on the Saturday evening before the mission was opened, the special faculties which had been obtained for each one of us at Rome, for giving the Papal Benediction. {173} The grand and spacious church of this beautiful town, which is worthy to be a cathedral from its size and architecture, was crowded by the largest number of Protestants we had ever seen on similar occasion, and a number of converts were received into the Church. From Watertown we came to St. Bridget's Church in New York, where we had one of our largest, most laborious, and most fruitful missions. This was the first one of those heavy city missions so frequent during our early career, at which F. Baker had assisted, where the crowds of people were so overwhelming, and the labor so excessive and exhausting. He went into his work with a brave spirit and an untiring zeal, and scarcely allowed himself even a breathing-spell. The love and admiration which the warm-hearted people of this congregation acquired for him was never diminished, and there was no one whom they ever after loved so much to see revisiting their church. Before the close, F. Hecker arrived from Rome, after a year's absence, bringing a special benediction from the Holy Father upon our future labors, and a warm commendatory letter from the Cardinal Prefect of the Propaganda. At the end of the mission we found ourselves without a home, and we remained so until the spring of the following year, dependent for the most part on the hospitality of individual friends among the clergy and laity for a temporary shelter. For a short time we were obliged to take lodgings in an ordinary respectable boarding-house in Thirteenth street, near several churches and chapels, where we could say Mass every day, without incommoding anyone. Our kind friend and generous patron, Mr. Hecker, afterward gave up to us his whole house, while his family were in the country; leaving his servants, and making ample provision for furnishing us with every comfort in the most hospitable style. During the summer, the "Congregation of Missionary Priests of St. Paul the Apostle" was organized, under the approbation and authority of the archbishop; and arrangements were commenced for the foundation of a religious house and church, with a parochial charge annexed. {174} While we were occupying Mr. Hecker's house, two burglars entered the building one night, through a window incautiously left open, came into the room occupied by F. Baker and one of his companions, and robbed them of their watches, which were fortunately of small value, some articles of clothing, likewise not very costly, and a trifling amount of loose change; but, seeing two other men of no small stature in the adjoining room, prudently decamped, without finding a number of costly articles belonging to the chapel, although they had examined the drawer where the albs and amices were kept. None of us were awakened, and the first news we had of the midnight raid upon our territory was given by F. Baker exclaiming that his coat had been stolen. We laughed at him at first, but it was soon discovered that his intelligence was correct, and that the next house had been visited also by the robbers. This adventure gave occasion for a great deal of mirth among ourselves, and many speculations as to the probable results of an encounter with the robbers, in case we had awakened, in which fatal consequences to the latter were freely predicted. As usual in such cases, the police examined the matter, gave very sagacious information as to the mode of entrance and exit, and discovered no trace of the burglars themselves. We were only too happy that the chalice and vestments had not been carried off. The burden which was assumed by our small community was a very heavy one. It was necessary for us to continue the missions without interruption, and at the same time to provide the means of making a permanent foundation, which could not be done without securing property, and erecting a church and religious house at a cost of about $65,000. During this time of struggle for life, F. Baker was one of the main stays of the missions, and one of the most arduous and efficient of our number in working at the collection of funds and the organization of the parish. {175} After a summer spent in this latter work, a course of missions was commenced in September, the first of which was a heavy one, in a congregation numbering 5,000 souls, at the cathedral of Providence, in which we were all engaged. The next was a retreat given to men alone, and specifically to the members of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, in the cathedral of New York. F. Baker closed it with a magnificent sermon in his happiest vein, on "The Standard of Christian Character for men in the world." The following notice of the retreat, taken from the _Freeman's Journal_, is more graphic than any that I can give, and I therefore quote it entire, in place of describing it in my own language:-- "The retreat given by the band of Missionaries of St. Paul the Apostle to members of St. Vincent de Paul's Society, and other men of this city, closed on Sunday evening, the Rev. Father Baker preaching an admirable sermon on the characteristics of Christian perfection for men in the world. During the week that this retreat has continued, the number of men approaching the sacraments was about two thousand. The religious effects of the occasion will be great and permanent. But besides results that the Catholic faith leads to expect, St. Patrick's Cathedral has, the past week, presented a subject for thought and astonishment to the observing and reflecting man, though not a Catholic. What has gathered these crowds of busy, practical men? What keeps them kneeling, or standing quietly in solid masses, for an hour before the exercises commence? Most of these men rose from their beds at four o'clock, some as early as half-past three, and made long walks through the darkness to secure their standing-place in the church during the early instructions. They hear from the pulpit solid, distinct, earnest instructions in regard to what a man must believe, and in regard to what he must do to attain eternal life when this world is past. But whence comes this lively appreciation of truths beyond the reach of the senses, in the minds of men plunged all day long, and every day, in material occupations? {176} Here are men of the class that, in communities not Catholic, do not suffer religion to interfere with their comfort--who like best to discuss the points of their religious profession after dinner, and to listen to sermons while seated in cushioned pews. What causes them thus to stand in the packed throng of the faithful, listening to the homely details of daily duties required of them, or kneeling on the hard floor, repeating with the multitude, in a loud voice, the prayers they learned in childhood? Then, these sons of humblest toil that kneel beside them. All the heat and excitement of the "revival" failed to bring any considerable number of the corresponding class of non-Catholics to the "prayer-meetings." The latter mentioned would say that they had to look out for their daily bread, and that the rich men at the prayer-meetings did not want them any way. Here they are at St. Patrick's, by five o'clock in the morning, and either they do without their breakfast, or it was dispatched an hour or more before. These various classes of men, having attended the exercises given by the Missionaries of St. Paul, during the week, stood crowded within St. Patrick's on Sunday evening. The parting instruction of the missionaries was to stir them, by all the courage and fervor and endurance that they had manifested during the retreat, to fix higher principles and firmer purposes for the guidance of their future life--to be faithful to every duty, to their families, to society, and to themselves--to be manly in their religious observances, and generous in sacrificing for their faith and for God every attachment that brings scandal on their religion or danger to their own virtue. At the close of the exercises by the missionaries, the Most Rev. Archbishop Hughes made some remarks to the vast congregation. He said he found no necessity of adding any thing to what the missionaries, according to the special objects of their calling, had done, to cause the truths most appropriate and necessary to sink into hearts so well prepared to receive and retain them. {177} But the spectacle before him was one he could not let pass without some words expressive of his gratification. When a few Catholic young men first met in the archbishops's house to form the first Conference of St. Vincent de Paul, he had formed high anticipations of the good their association would do each other and the Catholic community at large. Here, to-night, he saw the realization of his hopes. When he reflected on the influence that must be exerted on the Catholic body, and on this great city--where, alas, there was no other religion capable of influencing and restraining men except the Catholic--by so great a company of men instructed in their religion, and fervent in its practice--he had the wish that such meetings for these exercises, might, at intervals, be repeated in all the Catholic churches in the city. He then thanked the missionaries for their labors--he knew they asked not thanks from men--but still it was due that he, in the name of those who had been benefited by their exercises, should thank them. "This retreat for men has been, in some respects, of especial interest, and has been highly successful; and, for the complete satisfaction that it has afforded, it must be said that nothing which discreet forethought and arrangement, or affectionate zeal and assiduity could effect, was left undone by the Very Rev. Mr. Starrs, V. G. and Rector of the Cathedral." The third mission was given at the cathedral of Covington, when the following circumstance occurred. A Protestant gentleman, who was present one evening, had a phial of poison in his pocket, with which he was fully determined to destroy his own life; but the sermon of F. Baker on the Particular Judgment made such a powerful impression on his mind that he threw away the poison and disclosed to his friends what his desperate purpose had been. From Covington, F. Hecker returned to New York, to attend to our affairs there, and F. Baker with two companions went on a tour of missions, which continued from November until Christmas, in the State of Michigan. {178} The flourishing parishes located in the pretty villages of Kalamazoo, Marshall, Jackson, and Ann Arbor, were the ones visited. The last of these missions deserves a special notice, which I extract from the "Records":-- "The pastor of the church in Ann Arbor has two congregations under his charge, one at Ann Arbor, and the other at Northfield. The latter is the larger of the two, and it was earnestly desired that we should give them a separate mission. We were told that it was vain to expect them to come to the service at Ann Arbor, and, as they were already jealous of the Ann Arbor people, if we did not give them a mission of their own, their dissatisfaction would be increased, and we should do more harm than good by our visit. We on our part would have been willing to give them a double mission; but as there was no house near the Northfield church where the missionaries could lodge, it was decided to be impossible, and we concluded that one of the fathers should go out on Sunday and announce the mission to the Northfield people, and invite them to attend at Ann Arbor. The result proved the wisdom of the decision, for the people came in from the country in crowds, thus increasing the life and animation of the mission. The weather was mild and pleasant, the nights were bright and moonlit, and every morning and evening crowds of wagons were drawn up around the church, some from ten, some from fifteen, and some even from twenty miles off. The church was crowded by five o'clock in the morning, and the congregation, not content with assisting at one Mass and the Instruction, remained until late in the morning, when the Masses were all over. In the evening, the crowd was rendered still denser by the large representation of Protestants who attended. On the last night, the crowd was so great, that not only was the church packed in every part to its utmost capacity, but even the windows were filled with young men who had climbed up from without, and the trees around the church offered a perch for those who had to content themselves with a bird's-eye view of the scene." {179} I have noticed this mission more particularly, because this Northfield congregation was a specimen of several Catholic farming communities with which we came in contact on our missions. The prosperity, happiness, and virtue which I have found existing among this class of our people, induce me to recommend most earnestly to all those who have at heart the welfare of our Catholic Irish population, to promote in every way their devoting themselves to agricultural pursuits in the country. It would be a great blessing if the large towns could be depleted of the surplus population with which they are overcrowded, and the tide of immigration diverted from them, to be distributed over our vast territory. This agricultural life is incomparably more wholesome, more happy, and more favorable to virtue and piety than the feverish, comfortless, and unnatural existence to which the mass of the laboring class are condemned in large cities. It is free from a thousand influences vitiating both to the soul and the body, and, above all things, better for the proper training of children. Our young men and women of American origin are deserting this agricultural life, and leaving vacant the fields of their fathers, to plunge into a more exciting and adventurous life, which promises to satisfy more speedily their desire for wealth. Let our young Irishmen, who come here to find a better field for their strength and vigor than they have at home, and those who have grown up here, but find themselves unable to get a proper field for their industry in the old and crowded settlements, come in and take their places, leave the cities, shun the factory towns, and strike into the open country. Sobriety, industry, and prudence, will secure to every young man of this sort, in due time, the position of an independent land-holder. There is a hidden treasure of wealth, health, virtue, and happiness in the soil, which will richly reward those who dig for it, and will also enrich both the country and the Church. {180} I may also mention with pleasure, in connection with the Ann Arbor Mission, my agreeable recollections of the polite attentions we received from the president and gentlemen of the University of Michigan. This is by no means a solitary instance of courtesy extended to us in the Protestant community. In many parts of the United States, we have received the most polite and friendly attentions, and occasionally hospitable entertainment, both from clergymen and laymen of different religious denominations, as well as a general manifestation of respect and good-will on the part of the community. Sometimes the mission has excited ill-will, and obstacles have been thrown in the way of domestics and other dependent persons attending it. But in many other cases, not only has there been no interference, but every facility has been given, by owners of factories, who have shortened the time of work and given leave of absence, and by masters and mistresses of families, who have excused their servants from their ordinary work, and even furnished them with conveyances, when they lived at a distance. From Michigan, the missionaries returned to New York, and after New Year's, being rejoined by Father Hecker, gave a mission in St. Mary's Church, New Haven, a large and very flourishing parish, which is, however, only one of three in the classic "City of Elms;" where, thirty-five years ago, there was not a Catholic to be found, except, perhaps, one or two serving-men in wealthy families. After this mission, I revisited several of the places where we had given missions in South Carolina and Georgia, to solicit aid for our infant community, which was given in a liberal and generous manner, worthy of those warm-hearted Catholics, who, I trust, will receive a similar return from their Northern brethren, whenever they ask for it, to enable them to repair the ruin which has been made among them by civil war. {181} During my absence, two missions were given by the other three fathers--one at Princeton, where the church was broken down by the throng, and whose young pastor has since joined our community: another at Belleville, which has been so beautifully described by the amiable pastor of that place, that I cannot refrain from copying his sketch:-- "At the above-mentioned place, the Rev. Fathers Hecker, Deshon, and Baker opened a mission, Sunday, February 13, which continued during a week, and closed on the evening of the Sunday following. To say that it was most successful, is too cold an expression; and to call it most impressive, beautiful, and triumphant, can give no adequate idea of its enchanting power. During the week of its continuance, the hill that is crowned by the graceful Church of St. Peter, with its tall steeple and gilded cross, marking the first of a series of eminences that rise higher and higher westward from the River Passaic, has almost realized Mount Thabor. The eager people of the country round had been beforehand preparing for the arrival of the missionaries, and no sooner did the good fathers come than the faithful people rose up in haste to meet them. Down they came, the children of old Roscommon and Mayo, from the romantic hills of Caldwell on the west, along the glades and woody slopes of Bloomfield, saluting, as they passed, their newly-built Church of 'Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception.' Onward and upward, too, were hastening from the north and east, through Acquackanouck and Belleville, those who long ago left the Boyne and the Luir, the Liffey and Shannon, to cultivate the valley of the scarcely less beautiful Passaic. A thin, sparkling frost still lay upon the roads; and the crisping sounds of their hurrying feet, 'beautiful with glad tidings,' and their cheerfully ringing voices, far and near, were heard along the banks and over the drawbridge of that beautiful river--beautiful at half-past four in the balmy morning air--quivering under the hovering, waning moon, the deep-blue sky, and the twinkling stars. {182} But the people of the valley have ascended the hill from whence the loud bell of St. Peter's steeple has been awakening the country for miles around with its clear and booming sounds. They meet their brethren from Bloomfield and Caldwell, and pause for a moment before the double flight of steps leading up to the portico of the church. Every window gleams with light. The organ and choir are intoning and singing the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary, 'Sancta Virgo Virginum,' Holy Virgin of Virgins, pray for us.' 'I thought I was before the bell,' exclaims a young woman, just come from several miles off, as she flits hastily through the doorway to be in time for Mass. But the priest, in his shining vestments, with his little surpliced attendants, is already at the altar; and, it being five o'clock, the first Mass of the morning has punctually begun. The weather, however, at two or three other intervals of the mission, was not quite so propitious, nor the roads so pleasant; for thaws and occasional rain had softened the latter to a disagreeable extent. But this mattered nothing to the seamless robe of the Faith, which is proof against all weathers; for St. Peter's was thronged morning and evening alike while the mission lasted. Many were the expedients resorted to by poor mothers, for trusty guardians to mind the little ones during their absence at church. In several instances, a mother would charge herself with the children of two or three others; or some kind-hearted Protestant would take this care upon her. But not unfrequently the little ones were deposited in the basement of the church; and it was interesting to see the German mother place her infant in the Irish-woman's arms, while she herself hastened up with the crowd to receive communion at the altar-rail--a crowd of old and young, dotted here and there with the Hollander, the German, the French, and the English or American Catholic. {183} The morning instruction was usually given by Father Hecker, whose appearance and manner' were well calculated to cheer up the people, even to alacrity, under their daily difficulties of faithful attendance, late and early, on the mission-whether he related the anecdote of the old man, who, early in the morning, after most determined efforts to be faithful to the mission, vanquished the temptation of his warm bed, and finally succeeded in reaching the church in the teeth of a snow-storm, with inverted umbrella; or, when urging the duty of virtuous perseverance, he gave his celebrated allegory of the pike of the Mississippi, who, terrified one night by an unusual display of fireworks on its banks, vowed he would swallow no more little fishes, but afterward relapsed into his intemperate proclivities, and became worse than ever. In the evening, Father Deshon ended his most interesting instruction with the recitation of the Rosary, responded to aloud by the whole congregation. This was followed by Father Baker's sermon and the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. Besides the overflowing attendance of the faithful, the knowledge of the missionaries themselves being Americans and converts from Protestantism, brought hundreds of Protestants of all classes nightly, many of whom were present at every sermon; and they were as sensibly moved even to tears and audible grief, by the power and holiness of the preacher's eloquence, as the Catholics themselves. But the last night's scene will long be remembered--the renewal of baptismal vows, with uplifted hands, by the entire assemblage, which the strongly-built church somehow or other contrived to accommodate, sitting and standing in the pews, passages, gallery, and sacristy, and close around the sanctuary, to the number of some thirteen or fourteen hundred. The interior of the church was but lately remodelled and decorated, and its pale rose-colored walls and ceiling were charmingly varied by their white ornamental centers and panelled mouldings. {184} The statues of the Blessed Virgin and St. Peter at either side of the sanctuary rested on tasteful pedestals, which supported four lofty Corinthian columns and their pilasters. These pure white, fluted, and tapering columns, with their rich capitals and entablature, the altar, tabernacle, and almost life-size crucifix, the high-raised marble font and its pendent baptismal robe of snowy lace--all these, contrasted with the dark and lofty missionary cross, and the crucifixion winding scarf hung athwart it, became of an almost white and dazzling beauty, amid the innumerable lights, silver and gilded candelabra, and vases of a countless variety of natural flowers. It is a pleasing thought, that much of the plate alluded to was lent for the occasion by kind-hearted Protestants of the neighborhood, in whose estimation this mission has exalted the Catholic Church to a surprising degree. At the same time it may be said, that few or no places in the country are more remarkable than Belleville, N. J., for kind cordiality on the part of the Protestant community toward the Catholic. But the last scene, like a beautiful vision, is now over. The missionaries have given their blessing to the crowd, among whom is a Protestant young lady, who comes also to seek it before the carriage shall have borne them away. One convert was baptized on the morning of their departure. Another will be in a day or two hence. More are in reserve for this sacred rite. Upward of eleven hundred and thirty Catholics have received the Holy Eucharist; many of them old men, and many youths, who, but for the influence of the mission, would not have approached the sacraments for years--perhaps never. Young, wavering Catholics, already more than half lost to the faith, have been reclaimed and fortified. A. rich legacy of Catholic truth has been left to vanquish falsehood and error, which, in Belleville and its neighborhood, must cower for many a day before the memory of the Missionaries of St. Paul the Apostle." [Footnote 7] [Footnote 7: New York _Tablet_.] {185} On the 20th of March, 1859, a mission was opened in St. Patrick's Church, Quebec, by the special invitation of the Administrator of the diocese. It would be easy to fill pages with reminiscences of this mission, given in a city so replete with interest of every kind, and full of pleasant recollections. The mission was a very large one; as we had seven thousand two hundred and fifty communions, and fifty converts received into the Church. It was peculiarly satisfactory, also, from the circumstance that the church was large enough to contain all the people who desired to get in, though it was densely crowded, and that the most abundant facilities were furnished to all who wished to come to confession--there being nineteen confessors, of whom fifteen were clergymen of the diocese. The soldiers of the garrison attend this church, where they have on Sundays a special Mass and sermon from their chaplain. The Thirty-ninth Regiment, of Crimean memory, was stationed there at that time, and as many as were able to get leave, as well as a number of Catholic soldiers from the artillery battalion and the Canadian Rifles, attended the mission. Some of these Crimean veterans made their first communion, and others came to confession who had made their last confession before some one of the great battles of the Crimea. One of them, who was unable to get through the crowd after service, arrived after taps at his barracks, for which he was sent by the sergeant to the guard-house, and reported to the colonel the next morning. Colonel Monroe, the same officer who commanded the regiment in the Crimea, tore up the report and released the soldier from custody, saying that it was a shame to punish a man for going to the mission, which had done his regiment more good than any thing else that ever happened in Quebec. {186} We had several invitations to give missions in the British Provinces, which it was necessary to decline, and, after taking leave of Quebec, where we had received such unbounded kindness and attention, both from the clergy and laity, we gave our last mission for the season in St. Peter's Church, Troy, then under the care of Father Walworth. From Troy we returned to New York, where a small house had been rented for our use, near the site of our new religious house and church. During the summer of 1859, the work of collecting funds, by public contributions in churches, and private subscriptions, was continued, and the building, which was to serve as a religious house, was erected; a large portion of it being thrown into a commodious and tolerably spacious chapel, which could be used as a temporary parish church for some years, until circumstances would warrant the erection of a permanent church edifice. The corner-stone was laid by the archbishop, on Trinity Sunday, June 19, in presence of an immense concourse of people. On the 24th of November, the Feast of St. John of the Cross, the house was blessed by the superior of the congregation, and taken possession of. The first Mass was said in it on the following day, in one of the rooms arranged as a private chapel. On the first Sunday of Advent, November 27, the chapel was blessed, and Solemn Mass celebrated in it by the Vicar-General of the diocese; and from this time commenced the double labors of both parochial and missionary duty. An accession to our small number of one more priest, Father Tillotson, who had been previously residing in England as a member of the Birmingham Oratory, enabled us to do this--an undertaking which would otherwise have been extremely difficult. Three of our number, of whom F. Baker was generally one, could now be spared for the missions, leaving two in charge of the parish; and by relieving one another occasionally, the labor was somewhat lightened. Within the next two years our number was further increased by the accession of two others--one of whom, F. Walworth, had been for a long time the superior of our missionary band, and now rejoined it, after a short interval, in which he had been fulfilling parochial duty as pastor of St. Peter's Church, Troy. {187} Strengthened by these accessions, we were enabled, while our number remained undiminished by death, and all were blessed with the health and strength necessary to the performance of active labor, to carry on a continuous course of missions during seven years, dating from the time of our separate organization; and at the same time to bestow abundant care and attention on our continually increasing parish. Three of these missions were given in the British Provinces--in the cathedral, of St. John's, N. B., Halifax, and Kingston, Canada, respectively; the remainder chiefly in New England, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, with a small number in the Western States. The details already given of previous missions are amply sufficient to give an idea of the missionary life of F. Baker, and it would be wearisome to continue them. These seven years, with the year immediately preceding them, comprise the most laborious and most fruitful portion of his too short priestly life. The number of missions given in this period of seven years was seventy-nine, with an aggregate of one hundred and sixty-six thousand communions, the same number with that of the missions of the preceding seven years. Father Baker assisted at sixty-four of these missions, and at sixteen previously given, making a sum-total of eighty. The number of converts from Protestantism registered is two hundred and sixty-three, and the record is imperfect. Two of these were Protestant clergymen--one the rector of the Episcopal Church in Scranton, Pa.; the other, the principal of the High School in Pittsfield, Mass. It only remains now to say a few words of the virtues exhibited by F. Baker, in his missionary, sacerdotal, and religious life. Those high and noble virtues are best made known by a simple record in his deeds, and by the utterance which he has himself bequeathed in his own sermons, in which the lofty standard of Christian perfection proposed to others is a simple reflection of what he actually practised in his life. {188} Father Baker usually passed from seven to eight months of every year in the labors of the missionary life, and in those labors, as a member of a body of hard-working men, he was pre-eminent for the assiduity and perseverance with which he devoted himself to the most arduous and fatiguing occupations of his peculiar state. He usually said Mass at five o'clock, after which he went to the confessional till half-past seven. From nine until one, and from three until half-past six, he was in his confessional, rarely leaving it even for a moment. At half-past seven, on those evenings when he was not to preach, he gave the instruction and recited the prayers which preceded the principal sermon. A considerable part of the remaining time was taken up by reciting his office and other private religious duties, leaving but very little for relaxation, and none whatever for exercise, unless it was snatched at some brief interval, or required by the distance of the church from the pastor's residence. During the first few days of each mission, the confessionals were not opened, and the preacher of the evening sermon was always freed from its labors in the afternoon. Frequently, however, those first days were devoted to a special mission given to the children of the congregation; and F. Baker was always prompt and ready to fulfil this duty, which he did in the most admirable manner, adapting himself with a charming and winning grace and simplicity to the tender age and understanding of the little ones, and reciting with them beautiful forms of meditation and prayer, composed by himself, during the whole time of the Mass at which they received communion. The hardest part of the work of the mission, after the confessions began, was continued during from five to eleven successive days, according to the size of the congregation, and requiring from ten to twelve hours of constant mental application each day. {189} Besides this necessary and ordinary work, performed with the most patient and unflagging assiduity, F. Baker often employed all the remaining intervals of time--not taken up by meals and sleep--in instructing adult Catholics who had never been prepared for the sacraments, and in instructing and receiving converts. Wherever there was any work of charity to be done, he undertook it quietly, promptly, and cheerfully, always ready to spare others, and willing to relieve them by assuming their duties when they were exhausted or unwell, seldom asking to be relieved himself. It was never necessary to remind F. Baker of his duty, much less to give him any positive command. During a long course of missions, in which I was superior, with F. Baker as my constant companion and my associate in preaching the mission sermons, and one other long-tried companion as the preacher of the catechetical instructions, I remember, with peculiar satisfaction, how perfect was the harmony with which we co-operated with one another, without the least necessity of any exercise of authority, or any disagreement of moment. To understand fully how arduous was the work which F. Baker performed, it must be considered that not only was his mind and his whole moral nature taxed to the utmost by the continued effort necessary in order to fulfil his duty as a preacher and confessor, but that it was done under circumstances most unfavorable to health, shut up in crowded, ill-ventilated rooms, pressed upon by impatient throngs, forced to strain the vocal organs to the utmost in large churches crowded with dense masses of people, and often obliged to pass suddenly from an overheated and stifling atmosphere into an intensely cold or damp air, and always obliged to work, for several hours in the morning, fasting. Such a life is a very severe strain upon one who has only the ordinary American constitution, especially if his temperament is delicate and unaccustomed to hardship in early life. The amount of work which F. Baker performed was not equal to that which many European missionaries are able to endure, especially those who have an unusually robust constitution. {190} But it was greater than that which St. Alphonsus himself required of the missionaries who were under his own personal direction. The average duration of a career of continuous missionary labor in Europe is only ten years, and it is therefore not surprising that F. Baker was able to continue such constant and arduous exertions, with the other duties which devolved on him during the intervals of missions, for no longer a period than eight years. At least as far back as the year 1861, he began to suffer from a malady of the throat, and to find the effort of preaching painful. Nevertheless, he continued to perform his full share of this duty until within a year before his death. Occasionally it would be necessary to relieve him of some of his sermons; and on the last mission which we gave together, which was in St. James's Church, Salem, Massachusetts, he asked to be relieved altogether both from the sermons and the short instructions which precede them. This mission was given during the month of January, 1865. F. Baker assisted at two other missions after this, one at Archbald, in Pennsylvania, and the other at Birmingham, Connecticut, at each of which he preached four sermons. His last mission sermon was preached, February 18, 1865, six weeks before his death; which occurred on the last day of the next mission but one, given at Clifton, Staten Island--twelve years from the time of his receiving his first communion at the mission in the Cathedral of Baltimore. In the discharge of the duties allotted to him in the parish, F. Baker labored with the same zeal and assiduity as he did in the missions. He was particularly charged with the care of the altar and the divine service in the church, for which his thoroughly sacerdotal spirit, his exquisite taste, and his complete acquaintance with the rubrics and the details of ecclesiastical rites and ceremonies, gave him a special fitness. {191} He took unwearied pains and care in providing vestments and ornaments, preserving the sanctuary and all appertaining to it in order and neatness, decorating the church for great festivals, training up the boys, who served at the altar, and directing the manner of performing the divine offices. This minute and exact attention to the beauty and propriety of the sacred ceremonies of the Church, sprang from a deep, inward principle of devotion and love to our Lord present in the Blessed Sacrament, to His Blessed Mother, to the saints, and to the mysteries of the Christian Faith, symbolized by the outward forms of religion. In the performance of his sacerdotal functions, he was a model of dignity, grace, and piety. He loved his duties, and was completely absorbed in his priestly office. The august Sacrifice and Sacrament of the Altar was his life and joy; and there he derived those graces and virtues which produced their choice and precious fruits in his character and conduct. As a preacher of the Divine Word, he excelled equally. His parochial sermons were even superior to those which he preached on the mission. He could prepare himself more quietly; the exertion was not so tasking to his physical strength, and suited better the tone of his mind, which made it more pleasing and easy for him to fulfil these ordinary pastoral ministrations than to address great crowds of people, on occasions requiring a more vehement style of oratory. His published sermons will enable the reader to judge of his merit as a preacher, although their effect was greatly increased by the impression produced by his personal appearance and attitude, and the charm of his voice and intonations. One striking feature of his sermons was the abundance and felicity of his quotations from Holy Scripture. Frequent reading and meditation of the inspired books had saturated his mind with their influence, and the apposite texts which were suitable for his theme appeared to flow from his lips without an effort. Another characteristic of his preaching was, that it appealed almost exclusively to the reason, and through the reason to the will and conscience. {192} His continual aim was to inculcate conscientiousness, obedience to the law of God, the fulfilment of the great duties of life, and a faithful correspondence to the divine grace. He never lost sight of this great end in his missionary or parochial sermons, but always directed his aim to bring sinners to a renunciation of sin, and a fixed purpose of living always in the grace of God, and to bring good Christians to a high standard of practical perfection and solid virtue. For deep speculations in theology and oratorical display, he had not the slightest inclination. He never desired to preach on unusual occasions or topics, but, on the contrary, had an unconquerable repugnance to appear in the pulpit, except where the sole object was to preach the gospel with apostolic simplicity, for the single end of the edification of the people. He was not at all conscious of his own superiority as a preacher, and never gave his sermons for publication without reluctance, or from any other motive than deference to the judgment of his superior and his brethren. He loved and sought the shade from a true and profound humility, without the slightest desire for applause or reputation. His manner was earnest and grave; at times, when the subject and occasion required it, even vehement; but equable and sustained throughout his discourse, without rising to any sudden or powerful outbursts of eloquence. On ordinary occasions it had a calm and persuasive force; enlivened with a certain pure and lofty poetic sentiment, which blended with the prevailing argumentative strain of his thought, pleasing the imagination just enough to facilitate the access of the truth he was teaching to the reason and conscience, without weakening its power, or distracting the mind from the main point. He never produced those startling effects upon his audience which are sometimes witnessed during a mission, by an appeal to their feelings; but he invariably made a profound impression, which manifested itself in the deep and fixed attention with which he held them chained and captivated from the first to the last word he uttered. {193} His eloquence was like the still, strong current of a deep and placid river, sometimes swollen in volume and force, and sometimes subsiding to a more tranquil and gentle flow; but never deviating from a straight course, and seldom rushing with the violence of a torrent. In his more intimate and personal relations with his penitents, with the sick and afflicted whom he visited, or who came to him for counsel, and with others who sought instruction, advice, or sympathy from him as a priestly director, F. Baker was a faithful copy of the charity and suavity of his special patron--St. Francis de Sales. Pure and holy as he was himself, he was compassionate and indulgent to the most frail and sinful souls; and, without ever relaxing the uncompromising strictness of Christian principle, or mitigating his severe denunciations of sin, he was free from all rigorism toward the penitent who sought to rise from his sins by his aid. This benignity and charity attracted to him a great number of persons who were in peculiar difficulties and troubles, some of whom had never had courage to go to any one else. He spared no pains and trouble to help them, and his patience was inexhaustible. With the sick and dying he took unusual pains, visiting them frequently, and often aiding them to receive the sacraments devoutly by reciting prayers with them from some appropriate book of devotion. He reconciled a number to the Church who had been drawn away from their religion, and was particularly successful in bringing to the fold of Christ those who were without. The tokens of affection, gratitude, and sorrow which were given by great numbers at his death, were proofs how much he had endeared himself to all with whom he came in contact, and how irreparable they felt his loss to be. {194} Of F. Baker's religious character it would be difficult to say much, in addition to the portraiture of him which has been given in the foregoing sketch of his life. It presented no salient or striking points to be seized on and particularly described. Its great beauty consisted in its quiet, equable constancy and harmony. He had that evenly balanced temperament ascribed to St. Charles Borromeo by his biographers, and regarded as the most favorable to virtue. He had no favorite books of devotion, no special practices of piety or austerity, no inclination for the study of the higher mystic theology, no unusual difficulties or temptations, no deep mental struggles, no scruples, no marked periods of spiritual crisis and change after his conversion to the Catholic Church--nothing extraordinary, except an extraordinary fidelity and constancy in ordinary duties and exercises, and extraordinary conscientiousness and purity of life. He was detached from the world, and from every selfish passion; reserved to a remarkable degree, without the faintest tinge of melancholy or moroseness; collected within himself and in God at all times; serene and tranquil of spirit; simple, abstemious, and exact in his habits; with his whole heart in his convent, his cell, his duties, and his religious exercises. The character of F. Baker was very much developed during the later years of his life. That passive, quiescent disposition which characterized him in his earlier career, gave place to greater decision and energy. He acquired by action a more self-poised and determined judgment, greater self-reliance, and a more marked individuality. He was no longer swayed and led by the opinions of others, except so far as duty required him to obey, or his own reason was convinced. The almost feminine delicacy and refinement which he had in youth was hardened into a robust and manly vigor, as it is with a softly-nurtured young soldier after a long campaign. He exhibited also a gayety of temper, a liveliness in conversation, and often a rich and exuberant humor and playfulness, especially in depicting the variety of strange and amusing characters and scenes with which he came in contact by mixing with all classes of men, which had remained completely latent in his earlier character, before it was warmed and expanded by the genial influence of the Catholic religion. {195} No one could have been a more delightful companion on the mission, during the intervals of rest and relaxation, than he was; and he entered into the enjoyment of the occasional recreations thrown in his way in traveling with the zest of a schoolboy on a holiday. For company he had no taste, and he could not be induced to undertake any jaunt or excursion for mere pleasure. During the summer months he would never go into the country, even for the sake of recruiting his health, but remained during the hottest months at home, where he found the truest happiness, pursuing the even tenor of his ordinary occupations. A beautiful character! A rare specimen of the most perfect human nature, elevated and sanctified by divine grace, and clothed with a bodily form which was the exact expression of the inhabiting soul! To describe it is impossible. Those who knew it by personal acquaintance will say, without exception, that the attempt I have made is completely inadequate, and, like an unsuccessful portrait, reproduces but a dim and indistinct image of the original. I do not mean to say that F. Baker was a perfectly faultless character, or that he was without sin. Of those faults, however, which are apparent to human eyes in the exterior conduct, he had but few, and those slight and venial. Nothing now remains but to describe the closing scene of F. Baker's life. I have already mentioned that his constitution had shown symptoms of giving way under the fatigues of his missionary labors. Nevertheless, he still continued in the constant and active discharge of his priestly duties, and no solicitude in regard to his health was felt by any of his brethren, with whom these periods of physical infirmity wore an ordinary occurrence. On one Sunday, a few weeks before his death, his strength failed him while he was singing High Mass, and he was obliged to continue it in a low voice. {196} He was also unable to continue the abstinence of Lent, and was obliged to ask for a dispensation, which I believe never occurred with him before. His appearance was pale and languid, and the fulfilment of his duties evidently cost him an effort. We had been accustomed to sing together two of the three parts of the Passion on Palm Sunday, ever since the church had been opened; but, in making arrangements for the services of the Holy Week for this year, he remarked that we would be obliged to omit singing the Passion as usual. He had marked himself, however, on the schedule of offices which was posted up in the library, to preach both on Passion Sunday and Palm Sunday. His last Sunday sermon was preached on the Second Sunday of Lent, March 12. The subject was "Heaven." The Wednesday evening following, he volunteered to preach in the place of one of his brethren who was unwell, about an hour before the service commenced, and left the supper-table to prepare himself. He took for the emergency the sermon which he had first preached as a missionary, on "The Necessity of Salvation;" and this was the last regular discourse which he delivered. On the following Sunday, after Vespers, he gave a short conference to the Rosary Society; and after this his voice was never heard again in exhortation or instruction. About this time, there were several cases of typhus fever in the parish, and F. Baker had in some way imbibed the poison, to which his delicate state of health rendered him peculiarly susceptible. On the Fourth Sunday of Lent, March 26, the first symptoms of illness showed themselves. On the preceding evening he heard confessions as usual, until about nine o'clock, after which he came to the room of one of the fathers and made his own confession, as he did habitually every week. The next morning he said Mass for the last time, at half-past eight, for the children of the Sunday-school. As I passed his door at half-past ten, to go down to High Mass, he met me in the corridor, and remarked that he felt too sick to go down to the sanctuary. {197} From this time he came no more again to the table or the recreation of the community, but kept his room. Nothing was thought of his indisposition, and it was by accident that his physician, who dined that day with the community, saw him and prescribed for him in the afternoon. The next day three of the fathers left the house for a mission, and bade him good-by as usual, without a thought of anxiety on either side. F. Baker remained on Sunday and Monday in the same state, dressing himself every morning, and sitting up at intervals, but usually lying on the bed, and occupying himself about some matters of business. He wrote several notes, and dictated others, some concerning the articles he had ordered for the sanctuary, and others concerning some sick persons or penitents for whom he had a special care. During this time, no symptoms of typhus had appeared, but his complaint appeared to be a slight attack of pneumonia. On Monday evening he went down by himself to the bath-room and took a hot bath, after which he kept his bed entirely. The superior of the house, who was engaged in the mission on Staten Island, came every day to visit him, and had already detected an incipient tendency to delirium, which awakened in his mind an anxiety, which, however, was not shared by anyone else. On Wednesday, however, although he retained control over his faculties, his brain began evidently to show a state of morbid excitability. He remarked that the bells of the house had a strange sound, and fancied that his breathing and pulsations were all set to a regular rhythmical measure, and gave out musical sounds. When he was alone and his eyes shut, he said that a brilliant array of figures continually passed before him, and that he seemed to be hurried away by a rapid motion like that of a railway carriage. During that evening he was more decidedly wandering in his mind, although he became quiet, and slept nearly all night. On Thursday morning the poison of typhus had filled his brain completely, and he lay in a dull, stupid state, unconscious of what was said to him, and incapable of uttering a rational word. {198} This gave place after a time to a more violent form of delirium, during which he talked incessantly in an incoherent manner, and could with difficulty be kept in a quiet position or induced to swallow any nourishment or medicine. On Friday morning the danger of a fatal termination was evident, as the disease continued to progress, and the symptoms of pneumonia were also aggravated. The superior of the house was sent for, and came over in the afternoon. Dr. Van Buren and Dr. Clarke, two of the most eminent physicians in town, were called in for consultation by Dr. Hewit, the attending physician, and information of F. Baker's illness was sent to his sister, who came immediately from Baltimore to see him. On Saturday evening the typhus fever had spent its violence, reason returned, and from this time F. Baker remained in a weak but tranquil state until his departure. He had been removed from his own room to the library, a large and airy apartment, where every thing about him was arranged in a neat, orderly, and cheerful manner, and he was attended and carefully watched night and day by his physician, his brethren, and his nurse. The violence of his fever had prostrated his strength so completely, that he was unable to resist the severe attack of pneumonia which accompanied it, and which medical skill and care were unable to subdue. The feeble vital force which still remained gradually subsided during the next three days, under the progress of this disease, although his friends continued to hope against all appearances for his recovery, and seemed almost to take it for granted that God would surely hear their prayers and spare his life. During all this time he was rational and collected, recognising all his friends, but unable to speak more than a few brief sentences that were connected and intelligible. He desired his sister to remain with him, and she did so during a great portion of the time. He expressed his perfect willingness and readiness to die, and made an effort to repeat audibly some prayers, but without success. {199} He manifested his desire for absolution by signs, and it was given to him, together with the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, on Sunday. On Tuesday, the Holy Viaticum, for which he had asked, was given him, at about half-past ten in the morning. He received it with perfect consciousness, and remained quiet, free from pain, and without becoming perceptibly worse, until one. After the fathers had gone down to dinner, he asked his nurse for his cap, which was brought to him and placed in his hand. He then asked for his habit, and said he would dress and go down to dinner with the community. Soon after, a change was observed in him by the watchful eye of the father who had been his bosom friend during their common missionary career, and who had passed so many hours of the day and night by his bedside during his sickness with more than the devotion of a brother; and several of his particular friends were sent for, that they might see him once more before he died. The two fathers who were at home, his physician, his only and beloved sister, a lady who had been his chief aid in the care of the sanctuary, and another, who was one of his converts, surrounded his bedside, where he lay, the picture of placid repose and holy calm, quietly, gently, and imperceptibly breathing his last, until four o'clock, when his spirit passed away to God, without a struggle or a sign of agony, leaving his countenance unruffled, and his form as composed as a statue. Those who saw him after death have said that, about an hour after his departure, his appearance was most beautiful, as he lay just dressed in his sacerdotal vestments, his majestic and finely chiselled brow and features as yet untouched by the finger of decay. The vestments in which F. Baker was dressed had been prepared by himself only three weeks before, that they might be ready in case of the death of one of the community. His body was placed in a metallic case, enclosed in a rosewood coffin, and laid in state in the church. {200} These arrangements were not completed until late in the night, and the people did not therefore begin to visit the sacred remains until the next morning; from which time until the sepulture, crowds of the faithful were coming to the church during every hour, both of the day and the night. Requiem Masses were said by all the priests in the house on Wednesday and Thursday. The mission at Staten Island closed on Tuesday evening. The fathers who were there were not made acquainted with the extreme danger of F. Baker, and the intelligence of his death was not sent to them until Wednesday morning, when their labors were all completed. They returned home to find the body of their late companion lying in the church, and the household and parish overwhelmed with sorrow. Usually, in a religious community, the death of a member is taken very much as the loss of a soldier is regarded by his comrades, schooled as they are to control their feelings, and to be ready at any moment to expose their lives in the discharge of their duty. But in a small band like ours, which had been through so many trials and vicissitudes in company, and where all the members had been continually in the most constant and intimate association with each other, it was impossible not to feel in the deepest and keenest manner the loss of one of our number, the first one called away during the fourteen years of a missionary life. To an infant congregation like ours, the loss of a priest like F. Baker was truly irreparable. Besides this, each one felt that his loss as a friend and brother was a personal grief equal to that of losing his nearest and dearest relative by the tie of blood. This sorrow was shared by the whole parish, by all his friends, and by the faithful everywhere in the parishes where he had preached and labored. Many letters of sympathy and condolence were sent from all quarters, and not Catholics only, but numbers of others also, who had respected the virtues of the holy Catholic priest, testified their regret at his death, and their sympathy with our loss. {201} The Rev. Dr. Osgood, a distinguished Unitarian clergyman of New York, sent a small painting representing a bouquet of various kinds of lilies, as a memorial of respect, in the name of his congregation, accompanied by a very kind note. Several other Protestant clergymen were present at the funeral services; and, indeed, the manifestations of respect for F. Baker's memory were universal. The funeral obsequies were of necessity accelerated more than his friends would have desired, so that few from distant places were able to attend them. A few intimate friends from Baltimore, and some clergymen from places out of town, were, however, present; a large number of the clergy of New York and its vicinity; and as great a number of the faithful as the church could contain. The funeral was on Thursday in Passion Week, April 6, two days after the decease. The previous Thursday was F. Baker's birthday, and the anniversary of his conversion to the Catholic Church also occurred within the week of his death and burial. He had just completed the forty-fifth year of his age, and was in the ninth year of his priesthood. The following Sunday was the twelfth anniversary of his formal reconciliation to the Church, in the chapel of the Sisters' of Charity, in Baltimore. Early on Thursday morning, four private Masses of Requiem were said for the repose of his soul in the church. At the usual hour for High Mass on Sundays, a solemn Mass of Requiem was celebrated by the superior of the house, in presence of the Archbishop, who performed the closing rite of absolution, and a short funeral discourse was preached. The coffin was ornamented with the sacerdotal vestments, the chalice, and the missionary crucifix of the deceased, and covered with wreaths of flowers. The altar was deeply draped in mourning, and F. Baker's confessional was also similarly draped. Never did these exterior symbols indicate a more sincere and universal sorrow on the part of all who participated in them. It was a very difficult task to summon up sufficient fortitude to perform these last sad rites. {202} The voice of the celebrant was interrupted by his tears; the sub-deacon faltered as he sang the elevating and comforting words of the Epistle; the choir-boys showed in their candid and ingenuous faces their sorrow for the one who had trained them up in the sanctuary; the choir, composed, not of professional singers, but of members of the congregation, undertook their solemn task with trembling; every countenance was sad and every eye moistened, in the assemblage of the clergy who sat in white-robed ranks nearest the sanctuary, and of the laity who filled the church. I had the last duty of friendship to perform, in preaching the funeral sermon; and the wish to do full justice to F. Baker, and to satisfy the eager desire of all present to hear something of his life, enabled me to fulfil this duty with composure, and restrain the tide of emotion which I saw swelling all around me, quieted only by the hallowing and tranquillizing influence of the sacred rites of the Church, and the high, celestial hope inspired by the contemplation of a life so noble and a death so holy. The music was in the sweet, plaintive, solemn style of the true ecclesiastical chant; all the means of celebrating the holy rites of the obsequies had been prepared by F. Baker's own pious and careful hand; his own spirit seemed to hover over the spot, and a divine consolation stole gently over all. Sad as it is, there is nothing so beautiful, so soothing, so elevating to the soul, as the funeral of a holy priest, who has achieved his course and attained the crown of his labors. Many of those who were present remained for a long time after the service was completed, and some were still found there unwilling to leave the spot, at nightfall. The remains were taken from the church to St. Patrick's Cathedral, escorted by a band of young men, and followed by a train of carriages, and by others on foot, although it rained heavily; the Vicar-General recited the concluding prayers of the ritual; the coffin was placed in the episcopal vault next to that of the late archbishop; a few wreaths of flowers were placed upon it, the entrance was closed, and all withdrew; leaving the earthly form of the departed to the silent repose of the tomb. {203} For some days after, a portion of the mourning drapery was left on the altar, and requiems continued to be offered by all the priests of the community. Many Masses were also said by other priests in various parts of the country, and prayers offered by the people, although the common sentiment of all was, that the one for whom they were offered was already among the blessed in heaven. On Saturday evening, as we all went to our confessionals, and a large congregation of people was assembled in the church, preparing for their Easter duty, a peculiarly holy calm seemed to pervade the spot. The people were hushed and still, unusually intent upon their devotions. The penitents of F. Baker looked with sadness upon the place where, just two weeks before, he had sat for the last time in the tribunal of penance, and came weeping to some one of the other fathers to request him to take the direction of their consciences. It was a sad Holy Week; and a difficult task to us, wearied with labor, and some with watching, oppressed with a grief which time and repose had not yet diminished, to fulfil the arduous duties of the season. Our greatest consolation was in the sympathy manifested by our people, and in the proof they gave of the love and gratitude which our labors had awakened in their hearts. Easter Sunday came; the altar was superbly decorated with the choicest flowers of the season, the triumphant chant of the Church resounded as usual; but all felt that the one whose presence in the sanctuary and whose eloquent voice had given the day one of its greatest charms, was gone forever; and besides, the gloom of the great crime committed on Good Friday had overspread the whole nation, and the drapery of universal mourning had turned the city into one great necropolis. {204} The admirable pastoral letter of the archbishop on the assassination of the President was read in all the churches, giving eloquent expression to the indignation and grief which oppressed all Christian and all honest and just hearts; and never was there seen an Easter more sad and mournful, more like a day of unusual humiliation and sorrow, than that Easter Sunday; which had been anticipated as a day of peculiar joy and thanksgiving for the cessation of bloody war and the restoration of peace. It is in just such times as these, however, that we appreciate most fully the strength and support which is given us by our holy faith, the Divine Sacrament of the Altar, and the grace of God, and that those who have given themselves to a religious life learn the inestimable blessing of their vocation, which raises them above all private and all public tribulation. A few days brought back serenity and cheerfulness to our little community, and we took new courage from the blessed death of our companion, closing so beautifully his holy life, to resume quietly and resolutely our ordinary duties, and to rely more completely on the providence of God; trusting that we had gained an advocate in heaven, and hoping to persevere like him to the end. His course was short, and his reward speedily gained. What a happiness for him that he listened to the voice of God; and, as his day was declining to its close, though he knew it not, gathered up his strength and courage to leave all and run that brief and swift race, which in later years gained for him the brilliant and unfading crown of a true and faithful priest of Jesus Christ, who had brought thousands of souls into the way of justice; and had practised himself that Christian perfection which he preached to others! There must be many young men equally gifted, and fitted to accomplish an equally apostolic work, to whom God has given the same vocation. What hidden consequences were involved in the result of that struggle and deliberation which was the crisis of grace in the life of Francis Baker! What a loss to himself and to the Church of God, if he had proved cowardly and unfaithful! The simple question before his mind was one of personal obedience to the commandment of Christ to arise and follow Him. {205} But because of his obedience, God chose him to be the instrument of an amount of good to others which would be sufficient to enrich with merit a priesthood of fifty years. The immediate fruits of his own labors in preaching the word of God and administering His sacraments can never perish. The fruits of his example and his teaching will, I trust, continue to multiply and increase after his death in rich abundance. If the blessing of God perpetuates and extends the congregation which he aided in forming, and which, so far as we can see, could not have been established without him, his character and spirit will be perpetuated in those who will for all time venerate him as a spiritual father, and imitate him as one of their most perfect models. If he is to have no imitators and no successors, it will be because God can find none among our choice and gifted youth, who have enough of sincerity, generosity, and the spirit of self-sacrifice, to obey the inspirations of His Divine Spirit, and consecrate themselves to His glory and the good of their fellow-men. The need is pressing, the career is glorious and inviting, and the vocation of God will not be wanting. There is no hope for religion, except in the multiplication of priests animated with the apostolic spirit. If the example of Francis Baker enkindles the spirit of emulation in some generous youthful hearts; and encourages some timid, fearful souls who are vacillating between the Church of God and the interests of this world, to imitate his fidelity to the voice of conscience; the end I have had in view will be accomplished. If not, it will stand as a perpetual reproach to a frivolous and unworthy generation, incapable of appreciating and imitating high Christian virtue. And now I lay the last stone on this monument of one who was once the friend and bosom companion of my youth; afterwards my spiritual child; then my brother in the priesthood; and who is now exalted to such a height above me that my eye and my mind can no longer follow him. {206} {207} Sermons. {208} {209} Sermons. Sermon I. The Necessity Of Salvation. (Mission Sermon.) "Thou art careful, and art troubled about many things. But one thing is necessary." --St. Luke X. 41, 42. If, my brethren, I should ask each one in this assembly what his business is, I should probably receive a great variety of answers. In so large a congregation as this, drawn as it is from the heart of a rich and important city, there are undoubtedly representatives of all the various avocations that grow out of the requirements of social life; some merchants, some mechanics, some laboring men. I should find some heirs of ease and opulence side by side with homeless beggars. Some of you are heads of families, while others are living under guardianship and subjection; and in answer to my proposed question, you would give me your various employments and states of life. You would tell me that your business is to heal the sick, or to assist at the administration of justice, or to teach, or to learn letters, or to labor. The men would tell me that their occupation is at the office, or the warehouse, or the shop, and the women would tell me that theirs is at home by the family fireside. No! my brethren, it is not so. This is not your business. Your words may be true in the sense in which you use them, but there is a great and real sense in which they are not true. {210} Trade, labor, study--these are not your employments. Your avocations are not so varied as you think they are. Each one of you has the same business. All men who have lived in the world have had but one and the same business. And what is that? The salvation of their souls. However varied your dispositions, your condition in this world, your duties, the end of life is absolutely one and the same to you all. Yes! wherever man is, whatever his position, whatever his age, he has one business on the earth, and only one--to save his soul. All other things may be dispensed with, but this cannot be dispensed with. This is his true, his necessary, his only duty. Do not think that I am exaggerating things in making this assertion. Our Divine Saviour Himself in the words of the text has taught us the same lesson--"_Martha, Martha, thou art careful, and art troubled about many things. But one thing is necessary_." And what that one thing is, He has taught us, in those memorable words which He uttered on another occasion--"_What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul; or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?_" [Footnote 8] But what then, you say; must every one go into a cloister, must everyone who wishes to do his duty forsake the world, leave house and parents, lands and possessions, and nourish his soul by continual meditation and prayer? No! this is not our Lord's meaning. The end of life is indeed the salvation of our souls, but we must work this out by means of the daily employments appropriate to our several conditions. We must prepare for the life to come by the labors of the life that now is. We must bear our part in this world, but we must do so, always, in subordination to eternity, and thus we shall in some way fulfil the words of the apostle--"_They that use this world, let them be as though they used it not;_" [Footnote 9] that is, let them not use it in the same way that the children of the world use it, or according to the principles of the world. [Footnote 8: St. Mark viii. 36, 37] [Footnote 9: 1 Cor. vii. 31.] {211} This is enough for the salvation of most men. No one can be excused from doing so much as this. The law of God imperatively and under the highest sanctions requires this of everyone here present. This is your duty to your souls. This is your only duty. This done, all will be done. This neglected, all else will be in vain. To prove this will be the theme of my present discourse. I will make a remark in the outset: It is important for us to bear in mind that the salvation of our souls is properly our work. The grace of God is indeed necessary in order to will, and to accomplish His good will, but without our co-operation, the grace of God will not save us; accordingly, St. Paul, writing to the Philippians, exhorts them to _work out their salvation_. [Footnote 10] [Footnote 10: Philip. ii. 12.] It is only little children, who die soon after baptism, and persons equivalent to children, who are saved by a sovereign and absolute act of divine power; with regard to all others, God has made their eternal destiny dependent on their own actions. No one of us will be saved merely because Christ died for us; or because He founded the Catholic Church as the church of salvation, and made us its members; or because He has instituted life-giving sacraments; or because God is willing that all should be saved; or because He gives His grace to us all; or because the Blessed Virgin Mary has such power with God; or because the priest can forgive sins. No one will be saved because he has had inspirations of grace, good instruction, good desires, and good purposes. Despite all this, one may be damned. For the Holy Spirit has said distinctly and strongly, "Work out your own salvation." It rests, then, with you to save your souls. The grace of God is indeed necessary. You cannot be saved without the death of Christ, or the sacraments of the Catholic Church, or the gifts of the Holy Spirit, or the absolution of the priest, or the patronage of Mary; but all these things are within your reach, they are all in your power. {212} Now, at the time of the Holy Mission, they are offered to you with especial liberality. God, on His part, has done, one may almost say, all that He could do to make your work easy to you. To make this an acceptable time, it only remains, then, that you do your part. And this you can do. However great your difficulties, however great your temptations, however strong your passions, however importunate your evil companions, may be; however deeply seated your bad habits; you can, each one can, by the help which God is now willing to render him, save his soul. From this first remark I pass to the immediate subject of my discourse--the obligation of securing our salvation. As we can save our souls, so we ought to do it. Nay, this is our only, our all-engrossing duty; and I shall found my proof of it, my brethren, on this plain rule of common sense and reason, that one ought to bestow that degree of attention and care on any affair which it deserves and requires. Everyone feels that it would be an occupation unworthy of a man to spend his time in writing letters in the sand, or in chasing butterflies from flower to flower; because these occupations are in themselves vain and profitless. Again, anyone would feel it unreasonable, in the father of a family, to set out on a party of pleasure at the very moment that his presence was necessary to arrest some disaster that threatened his family: not because it was wrong in itself for him to seek recreation, but because a higher obligation was then urging. Now, applying these principles, on which everyone acts in matters of daily life, to the matter in question; I say that you are bound to give to the work of your salvation your utmost care and attention, because the care of your souls supremely deserves and urgently requires it. {213} Take in, my brethren, the whole scope of my proposition. There is a work of great consequence before you. I do not speak as the world speaks. The world tells you that your business here is to get gain, to build a house, to rear a family, to leave a name, to enjoy yourself. I say, no. Your business is to seek the grace of God, and to keep it. The world says: seek friends, fall in with the stream, court popularity, do as others do, act on the principles which receive the sanction of the multitude, and a little religion in addition to this will be no bad thing. I say, no. Seek first the kingdom of God and His justice. Fathers, mothers, sons and daughters, masters, servants, ye great ones and ye humble ones of the earth, you are all engaged in the same enterprise. God has intrusted to each one of you a soul. He has intrusted it to _you_, not to another. You cannot devolve the responsibility of it on another. That is your care on the earth. Whatever cares of other things you may have, you cannot neglect that one work, you cannot interrupt or postpone it, you cannot put any thing in competition with it. If there is a question between any temporal advantages, however great, or suffering, however severe, on one side, and the salvation of your soul on the other; you must renounce these benefits, embrace those tortures. If you must consent to see your family die by inches of starvation, or put your salvation in proximate and certain jeopardy, you must see them starve first. I do not say the case is likely to happen. God rarely allows men to be reduced to such straits. But if the case should occur in the line of duty, nay, if the alternative was presented, of converting the whole world on one side, and avoiding a mortal sin on the other, we must rather consult the welfare of our own souls than that of others; and this not from selfishness, but because God has intrusted to us our own souls, and not the souls of others. {214} And how do I establish my proposition? I waive, my brethren, my right to appeal to your faith, to speak by the authority of Christ, Who is infallible and supreme, and Who has a right to challenge your absolute and instantaneous submission and obedience. I postpone the consideration of that love which we owe to our Maker, and which ought to make us prompt and willing to do His will. I take my stand on the ground of reason and conscience, and I appeal to you to say whether they do not sustain my proposition. I make you the judges. It is your own case, it is true, yet there are points in which even self-love cannot blind our sense of faith; and I ask you whether the care of our soul's salvation should not be our sovereign and supreme care in life, if it be true that the interests of the soul surpass all others in importance, and can not be secured without our continual and earnest efforts. Your prompt and decided answer in the affirmative leaves me nothing more to do than to establish the fact that the salvation of your souls is in fact so important a task. I will do so by proving three points: first, that our souls are our most precious possession; second, that we are in great danger of losing them; and third, that the loss of our souls is the greatest of all losses, and is irreparable. Our souls are our most precious possession. My brethren, we have souls. When God created man He formed his body out of the slime of the earth. It was as yet but a lifeless form, a beautiful statue, but God breathed upon it and man became a living soul. This soul, the spiritual substance which God breathed into the body, was formed according to an eternal decree of the Blessed Trinity, in resemblance to the Divine essence; that is, endowed with a spiritual nature and possessed of understanding and free will. "Let us make man to our image and likeness," said God; and the sacred writer tells us "God created man to His own image;" and, as if to give greater emphasis to so important an announcement, he repeats, "To the image of God created He him." [Footnote 11] [Footnote 11: Gen. i. 26.] {215} Man therefore is a compound being, consisting of a body and soul, allied to the material world through the material body which he possesses, and to the world above us, that is, to God and the angels, through his soul. Now, the excellence of all creatures is in proportion to the degree in which they partake of the perfections of God, who is the Author of all being and all goodness. All existing substances partake of His perfection in some degree; if they do not show forth His moral attributes, at least they reflect His omnipotence; and therefore Holy Scripture calls on the fishes of the sea, the beasts of the earth, the fowls of the air, the sun, moon, stars, earth, mountains and hills, to join with angels and men in blessing God. But the superiority of angels and souls over material creatures consists in this, that they partake of the moral perfections of God: they show us not only what God can do, but what He is. Like Him, they are spiritual beings. "_Who makest Thy angels spirits and Thy ministers a burning fire_," says the Psalmist. [Footnote 12] [Footnote 12: Ps. ciii. 4.] They are not gross substances as our bodies are, but pure, subtle, immaterial essences. They are immortal like Him--at least so as that they can never die. They do not need food nor sleep. They are not subject to decay, or old age, or death; they are endowed with understanding and free will, to know many of the things that God knows and to love what He loves; but, above all, to know Him and love Him. Hence the value of the soul is really immeasurable, and all the treasures of the earth are not to be compared to it. Take the poorest slave on earth, the most wretched inmate of the darkest prison, the most afflicted sufferer whom disease has reduced to a mass of filth and corruption, and that man's soul is more precious and more glorious than the richest diadem of the greatest monarch; nay, than all the treasures of the whole earth, with all the jewels that are hid in the mines and caves under its surface. {216} Our Lord one day permitted St. Catherine of Sienna to see a human soul, and as she gazed transported at its exceeding beauty, He asked her if He had not had good reason to come down from heaven to save such a glorious creature. The saint said the soul was so beautiful that, if one could see it, one would be willing to suffer all possible pains and torments for love of it. My brethren, if, when you go to your homes, you should find in your house an angel with his face as the appearance of lightning, his eyes as a burning lamp, his body as a crystal, and his feet in appearance like to glittering brass, what would you do? Would you not, like St. John, fall down before his feet and adore him? Would you not faint and fall before him, or if you were so strengthened that you could look upon the glorious vision, would you not gaze upon it with deep and loving awe? Well! such a being you will find there, when you go home. It will go hence with you. It will remain there as long as you remain there. It will come away when you come away. This bright being of whom I speak is no visitor in your house, it is an inmate, it rises with you in the morning, accompanies you through the day, is present with you when you eat, is with you in sickness and in health, in life and in death. This bright and glorious being is yours--it is more yours than any thing else in the world, it is the only thing in the world that is really yours--it is yours; poverty cannot strip you of it, death cannot tear it from you; eternity cannot rob you of it. And this being is your soul, your precious, spiritual, immortal soul. All things else will forsake you, property, family, friends; but this will never forsake you. It is yours. It is yours inalienably and for ever. Your greatest, your only wealth and treasure. Oh, inestimable dignity! We are told of some saints, who used to make an act of respect to everyone they met, by way of saluting his guardian angel, and of others that they bowed down before those whom they knew, by the spirit of prophecy, would shed their blood for the faith. {217} But have we not cause enough to honor man, in the fact that he has a soul, an immortal soul, a soul which shall one day see God? Shall we not feel an ample respect for each other, my brethren, when we think of what we are? Who could ever speak an impure word before another if he thought of the dignity of a human soul? What young man would ever dare to go to scenes where he would blush that his mother or sister should be present, if he remembered that he took his own soul along with him? Who would lie, or cheat, or steal, if he thought of his soul? A great and overpowering thought; how does it belittle all the pride and ostentation of the external world! Come, my brethren, let us go into the streets of this city and look around us. There are stately buildings and proud equipages and gay and brilliant shops--but what are all these to the concourse of human beings, the crowds of immortal souls who are, day by day, making an immortal destiny. There is the old man tottering along on his stick, there is the little child on the way to school, there is the rich lady with her jewels and costly fabrics, there is the laborer with his spade setting out to his daily toil; and each one has a soul, each one will live forever. Let us strive to take in this great thought. The tide of human beings flows on from morning to evening. New faces continually appear. They come and go. We do not know their history, their destiny; but we know that each one has a spiritual nature, is made to the image of God, is possessed of a bright and glorious soul. We shall meet them again. There will come a day when every one of the throng shall meet again every other. New populations; shall come in the place of those who now inhabit the world. The stones of the greatest buildings shall be reduced to powder, nay, the world itself will be reduced to ashes, and each soul that now lives in this city will survive in its own individuality and immortality. There are some, it is true, who do not seem as if they had souls. {218} There are women who have given themselves up to practices of uncleanness by profession, and men who habitually wallow in drunkenness and sensuality; and the conversation of such persons is so horrid and obscene, their countenance so devoid of the least trace of shame or self-respect, they seem from having neglected their souls almost to have lost them. They seem really to have become the brutes whose passions they have imitated. No! even they have souls. They cannot be brutes if they would. They are men, they are made to the image of God, and so they must ever remain. A surgeon [Footnote 13] was once called to attend a man who was afflicted with cancer. [Footnote 13: The surgeon alluded to was Dr. Baker, and a faithful portrait of the man was taken, which was preserved in the family.] This terrible disease had affected one entire side of the face, and had made in it the most dreadful ravages. The cheek was one shapeless mass of putrid flesh; the nose undistinguishable from the other features, the eye completely eaten out, and the bones of the forehead perforated like a sponge; but on turning the face of the man, the other side presented a wonderful contrast, being in nowise affected, and showing no trace of sickness except an excessive pallor. The countenance and features were of a noble dignity and beauty, and strikingly like the expression ordinarily observed in the pictures of our Blessed Lord. So it is with men's souls. Sin has eaten deeply into them, has deprived them of comeliness, has almost defaced the form they once had, has blinded their minds and deprived them of the interior eye; but still there remain traces of nobility, of the image of God. O man, whoever thou art, however deeply sunk in sin; I care not whether your body be as filthy as the dunghill or the sink, or your heart be the prey of every passion and the slave of every vice; you have a soul: you have indeed lost much, but you have much remaining; you have that which is of more value than all else in the world--that which is absolutely of more value than all material things; and which to you is of more value than all spiritual things, than all created things in earth and heaven. {219} You are great and noble and spiritual and immortal--you are capable of virtue, happiness, and heaven--you are like God, you resemble Him. His image is stamped upon you. And how little you realize this! Alas, you will realize it at the hour of death. But, secondly, we are in danger of losing our souls. To lose them in the literal sense is of course impossible, for I have said that they are immortal, and will remain with us forever. It would be in some way a happiness to the wicked, if they could, in this sense, lose their souls, for it would free them from the torment of a miserable eternity. But that cannot be: the loss of our souls of which we speak is the loss of God, who alone is the sufficient and satisfying object of our affection. "Thou hast made our souls for Thee," says St. Augustine, "and they are not at peace until they rest in Thee." The loss of our souls is occasioned by sin, which separates us from God, but it is not final and irremediable until death overtakes us in this state of estrangement. The danger of losing our souls, then, is the danger of falling into mortal sin and dying in that state. Now, the danger of sinning is, in the present course of God's providence, inseparable from the possession of a soul. Free will is a high prerogative, which, while it fits us for the highest state possible, renders sin also possible. As soon as God created the angels, a large part of them rebelled against Him, and were cast out of heaven. As soon as He had made man, our first parents fell and were cast out of Paradise. It is only a rational moral being that can sin; because sin is the voluntary transgression of the Divine law, and therefore cannot be committed by any creature but one who has a will, that is, intellect and the power of choosing. Almost all the material acts of sin which men commit are committed by brutes also. {220} See the rage of the tiger, the thieving of the fox, the impurity of the goat, the treachery of the adder, the gluttony of the swine. But there are no sins in these brutes, because they have mere blind instincts. Man, however, has reason and a will, and therefore he is bound to control the instincts which he shares in common with the brutes, and his failure to control these constitutes sin. He has a soul which belongs to God, and of which God is the sovereign, and his failure to control his passions is rebellion against God, and pride. Further, as the possession of a soul renders sin possible, so the proclivity to evil, which we inherit from the fall, and the temptations of the world, render it exceedingly probable. I do not know a more striking illustration of this, than the fear which the saints have ordinarily had about their salvation. Their sense of the value of the soul; their deep knowledge of their own hearts, and of the root of evil that was in them, the weakness of man without grace, and the uncertainty of grace; have kept men of the greatest sanctity, men who have wrought miracles, who have cast out devils, who have raised the dead to life, always anxious about their perseverance, always begging of God the grace never to to allow them to commit a mortal sin. But if these reasons are enough to make saints tremble, what reasons have not ordinary Christians to fear! A chain of evil habits, unguarded intercourse with men, the constant contact with the world, how fearfully do they augment the risk of losing our souls, which all run necessarily in this world. Why, listen to the conversation of ten men, taken almost at random in this city; for half an hour walk through the city, from one end to the other; and see if the occasions of sin are not more frequent than can be uttered. This is deeply felt by men of the world themselves. It makes them despair. They say there is no possibility of saving their souls in the world. They say it is all in vain to try--that sin meets them at every step. It is not, of course, true that sin is inevitable. If it were, it would not be sin. But it is true that the atmosphere of the world is fearfully surcharged with evil. {221} There is many a home in this city, many a place of public resort, many a den of secret iniquity, many a gaming-room, and drinking-house, over which there is an inscription legible to the angels, written in letters of fire, "The gate of hell." There are many places where souls are sold daily and hourly, and oh, at what a price! Thirty pieces of silver was the price offered for our Redeemer, but the soul is often sold for one, indeed, often for something still more miserable--for the gratification of an impure passion, for the indulgence of revenge, for a day's frolic. It is true the Evil One does not carry on his traffic under its own name and openly--that it is well concealed under specious pretences; but the danger is only so much the greater. The occasions of sin are everywhere spread under our feet like traps and snares, and encircling us on all sides like nets. But even this is not the worst. The loss of God is not only possible because of our free will, probable because of the corruption of the world, but, in many cases, already certain. Men, on all sides, have lost God, and need only an unforeseen death to make certain the loss of their souls. Who can tell how many are living in a state of mortal sin, month by month, day by day, year by year? They go on securely, smilingly; externally all goes on smoothly; they are successful and seemingly happy; they have plans for many years to come; but a voice has spoken, "Thou fool, this night shall they require thy soul of thee." Oh! how many died in mortal sin last year, how many will die in mortal sin next year! It needs only a little thing, a false step, a railway accident, an attack of fever, a change in the weather, a fit of apoplexy, and they are launched into eternity without warning and without preparation--death sealing for perdition those whom it finds deprived of the grace of God. Who, I say, can wonder at this, when he looks around him, and sees how little the soul is valued? O my God! it is enough to make the heart sick. {222} Let us take a Catholic family, for I will not take things at the worst. A father has a family of children. He must send them to school or college. He finds an institution which pleases him, and he will tell you that his children are doing excellently, and that the only drawback is that the school is Protestant or infidel. Is not this to betray the souls of his own children? Sunday comes: it is true that there is the obligation to hear Mass, but some inducement offers itself to idleness or dissipation, and no Mass is heard, because it is only the soul which is injured by the omission. Monday comes: there is an opportunity of making some little gain in an unlawful way. What does it matter? We must get rich, and do like our neighbors. The sons grow up in ignorance, and spend their time mostly at the gaming-table or the place of carousal. The daughters grow up. They must be led by their mother to every scene of folly and sin, because the custom of society requires it. Easter comes: the young people do not like to go to confession, and they add only one sin more, to those with which their hearts are already charged. And then the parents die, and the children come forward to take their places, and to bring up their children in still greater neglect and laxity. Thus Catholics are trained for the world, and souls for hell; and if we take into the account the graver forms of vice, and consider how many are entirely the slaves of passion, we shall not wonder that there are so few that shall be saved. One of the Fathers, speaking of the great responsibility of the priesthood, dilates on the impossibility of a priest's being saved without great exertion and watchfulness. But if it be difficult for a priest to save his soul; what shall I say of the laity, when I consider the prevailing habits of Catholics. It hardly seems to me too strong to say, that to me it would seem a miracle for any such one to be saved. How will men attain that which they do not care for, to which they give no thought? And so it is with the salvation of the soul. Who thinks about it? Who takes any pains for it? Who makes any sacrifice for it? {223} The soul is more precious than any thing else, and yet every thing else is put before it. It is trampled on in business, betrayed in friendships, choked by domestic cares, imprisoned in the filthy bodies of the licentious, and, as it were, annihilated in the drunkard. It is forgotten, neglected, outraged, despised, ignored. It is not so much sold as thrown away. The body is cared for with the most supreme solicitude. Every pain and ache is relieved. Long journeys are undertaken to recover health that is lost or only threatened. The most celebrated physicians are sought after with eagerness. But the soul is allowed for weeks and months and years to go on in a state of spiritual death. Confession, prayer, the sacraments, means so easy, means truly infallible in their efficacy, means within the reach of all, are neglected, on pretences the most frivolous, without reason, and almost without motive. "_Who will give water to my head, and a fountain of tears to my eyes, and I will weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people?_" [Footnote 14] [Footnote 14: Jer. ix. 1.] The loss of our souls is the greatest of all evils, because it is irremediable. I will not go into all that this point contains. It is too great a subject for us at present. I will not dwell on all that is meant by the loss of our souls, but I will consider it simply as it is, the failure of reaching our end and destiny, and as irreparable. And to help us to realize this, I will summon as a witness one who was the first to come short of his destiny, the devil. We do not know how long it was after the creation of the angels that the devil sinned and fell; but certainly there was a time when he was a pure, bright spirit, rejoicing in the greatness of his endowments, and with a hope full of immortality. But there came a moment of darkness. He sinned: he was judged: he was cast from heaven, and he sank into hell. There he is now. He is confined in chains and darkness. The tree has fallen; and as it has fallen to the north or to the south, so must it lie forever. {224} Other mistakes may be rectified, but this never. A loss in business may be made good by greater exertions and prudence; a broken-down constitution may be repaired by art and care; a lost reputation may be recovered by integrity and consistency in well-doing; earthly sorrow may be healed by time and other objects; sin may be rooted out by penance; but the loss of the soul is an evil complete and irreparable, and brings with it an undying remorse. "_A tree hath hope: if it be cut down, it groweth green again, and the bough thereof sprout. If its root be old in the earth and its stock be dead in the dust, at the scent of water it shall spring and bring forth leaves as when it was first planted._" [Footnote 15] But man, when he shall be dead and stripped and consumed, I pray you, where is he? The cry of despair which the first lost soul uttered when he made the terrible discovery that he was really lost, is still ringing in the abodes of the damned, and the keenness of his misery is still unabated. Ages shall go on, the last day shall come, and an eternity shall follow it, and that cry of despair will still be as thrilling, and that anguish as new and as irremediable. [Footnote 15: Job xiv. 7, 8, 9.] As reasonable men, I have appealed to you: what is your decision? What does reason, what does conscience, what does self-interest say? You would not be listless if I were to speak to you of your property, your health, your reputation, but now I speak to you of your souls--your precious, immortal souls--your own, your greatest good--a good that you are in danger of losing--the good whose loss is overwhelming and irretrievable. They are in your hands for life or for death. It is said that to one of the heathen soothsayers, who was famed for his skill in discovering hidden things, a person once came with a living bird in his hand, and asked the seer to tell whether it was living or dead. The inquirer intended to crush the bird with his hand if the wise man should say it was living, and to let it fly if he should say it was dead, and thus in either case to put the pretended magician to shame. {225} But the soothsayer suspected the design, and answered: "The bird is in your hand--to kill it or to let it live." So I answer you, my brethren. Your souls are in your hands, to kill them or to let them live. You can crush them in your grasp and smother their convictions, or you can open your hand and let them fly forth in freedom and gladness. Oh, have pity on your souls! Your souls are yours. No one will be the loser by the loss of your souls but yourselves. God will not be the less happy if you are damned; the saints will not lose any of their happiness if you fail of your salvation; the angels will be as light and blissful; the earth will go on just the same as when you were on it; only you, you yourselves will feel it, and you will feel it hopelessly. Ah, then, take pity on your souls! You will one day wish that you had done it. One of the courtiers of Francis the First of France, when he was dying, said: "Oh! how many reams of paper have I written in the service of my monarch! Oh! that I had only spent one quarter of an hour in the service of my soul!" A quarter of an hour! And you have days and weeks. Oh, then, once more I beg you to take pity on your souls! If you have never before seriously taken to heart your eternal interest, at least do so now. Improve the time of this mission. It is the time of grace. It may be to you the last call, the last opportunity. Make, then, a good use of this time. Set aside the thought of other things, and give yourself to this alone. Now you have an opportunity of making your peace with God, and saving your soul. Think, now the hour has come, foreseen by God from all eternity, when, answering to the call of grace, I shall regain His favor, which, alas! I have lost too long. What shall keep me back? See what is the difficulty, and weigh it in the scales with your immortal soul. Is confession difficult? A confession before the whole universe will be more so. Is it hard to lose a little gain? It will be more so to lose your soul. {226} Is it hard to break a tie of long standing? It will be hard to break every tie, and to live in eternal desolation. Is it hard to bear the remarks of companions? But how will you bear the taunts and jeers of the devil and his angels? And those very companions who have led you to hell will taunt you for your base compliance to them. Let nothing, then, keep you back. * * * (Peroration. according to the circumstances.) ---------------- Sermon II. Mortal Sin. (Mission Sermon.) "Know thou, and see, that it is an evil and a bitter thing for thee, to have left the Lord thy God." --Jer. II. 19. In the book of the prophet Ezechiel it is related that God showed to the prophet in a vision the city of Jerusalem. It was all stretched out before him in its greatness and in its beauty. The magnificent temple was there, with its stones and spires glittering in the sun; its streets were full of people, prosperous and happy; a people who were in possession of the true religion, who had been adopted by God as His children, and over whom He had exercised a special protection. It was a beautiful sight; beautiful to the eye, and well fitted to excite the most religious emotions in the mind. But there was something that checked these feelings of pleasure and delight. God permitted the prophet to see the interior of that city. He unfolded before him the secret abominations that were practised there. {227} He showed him the idolatries and impurities to which his chosen people the Jews had delivered themselves up, and then in wrath and indignation God complained of the people and said: "_The iniquity of the house of Israel and of Juda is exceeding great; and the land is filled with blood; and the city is filled with perverseness, for they have said: The Lord hath forsaken the earth, and the Lord seeth not_." [Footnote 16] Then the joy of the prophet was turned in to sorrow. [Footnote 16: Ezechiel ix. 9.] To-night, my brethren, a vision meets my eye hardly less beautiful than that which met the eye of the prophet. How beautiful a sight is this church and this congregation! This church is raised to the honor of the true God. Its walls are salvation and its gates praise. And this congregation, beautiful as it is in the assemblage of a multitude of living, intelligent beings--where I see the old man with his crown of silver hair, the young man and the young woman in the freshness of their bloom and youth--is much more so regarded as a Catholic congregation, as professing the true faith. But tell me--for I cannot look into your hearts as the prophet did--tell me, does God see, beneath this beautiful, outward appearance, the abominations of iniquity? Does God this night see in this church some heart that is in mortal sin? Some Catholic who has renounced, if not his faith, at least the practice of his faith? Some child of passion who has swerved from the path of justice, lost his conscience and the sense of sin, and given himself to the service of the devil? Are there any here to-night in mortal sin? There may be. I will confess, and you will not think me uncharitable in doing so, I believe there are some. I know not how many, but from what I know of the world, I believe there are some here, in this congregation, whose consciences tell them they are in mortal sin. Oh! then, let me tell them what they have done. Let me show them what mortal sin is. Let me prove to them that it is an evil and a bitter thing for them to have left the Lord their God. This is my subject to-night. I will show you the dreadfulness of mortal sin: first, from its nature; secondly, from its effects on the soul; and thirdly, from its eternal consequences. {228} You know, my dear brethren, that we were created to love and serve God in this life, and to be happy forever with Him in heaven. God has given us this world, and our own nature, all that we have or are; and He is willing that we should enjoy the world and act out our nature. It is true, there are certain restrictions which He has given us. These restrictions are contained in His law, embodied in the ten commandments. In these commandments God has circumscribed our liberty, has put limits to what we may do; but I need not say that these limits have been so fixed, not in order to abridge our happiness, but really to increase it. So the case stands on God's part. But now, on our part, we have an inclination to disregard the limits God has put on our use of the world, and to place our happiness in the creature. The world smiles before us, and we think this or that enjoyment would make us happy. It may often happen that the very enjoyment and comfort is one which God has forbidden; but no matter, we are strongly inclined to seize it, nevertheless, and to gratify our desire in spite of the prohibition. This inclination is what is called concupiscence, and is sometimes exceedingly strong, so that it is very difficult to resist it. God has, however, always given us reason and faith, free will and grace, to enable us to overcome it. This, then, being so, you see that man stands between two claimants: the world on the one hand, inviting him to follow his own corrupt inclinations; on the other, God requiring him to restrain his passions by the rules of virtue and religion. Now, what takes place under such circumstances? Alas, my brethren, I will tell you what too often takes place. I will tell you what takes place so commonly that men take it for granted that it must be so--so commonly that the majority of men cease to wonder at it--what happens every day, every hour, every minute. It happens that men listen to the voice of passion, renounce virtue and reason, stifle grace, and turn away from God, to satisfy their desire for the creature. This is what happens daily, hourly, momentarily; and this is mortal sin, which is in its nature the greatest of all evils, considered in its relation both to God and man, as I am about to show you in this first part of my discourse. {229} Understand me, my brethren: the sin I am going to speak of is _mortal_ sin. I do not say that every transgression of the law of God is mortal. You know that it is not so. You know that there some actions which men commit, which are forbidden, but by which a man does not mean really to give up the friendship of God--some sins which are not committed with full deliberation, some sins in which the matter is very small, some sins which come more from ignorance or frailty than from malice; and which God, who sees things just as they are, does not regard as grievous. He is displeased with them, but not mortally offended. He punishes them, but not with the utter withdrawal of His favor. If He did, who of us could be saved? But every sin in which the soul sees clearly that she must choose between the friendship of God and the gratification of unlawful passion--in which, with full deliberation, in full defiance of any grave precept of God or the Holy Church, she obeys the call of corrupt nature, every such sin is mortal, that, is, grievously offends God and cuts off the soul from His grace. Do you want to know what a mortal sin is? It is an insult offered to God--Almighty God. One trembles to say it, but so it is. Yes! if you have committed one mortal sin, you have insulted Almighty God. And there is every thing in the act to make the insult deep and deadly. The greatness of an insult is measured by the comparative importance of the persons between whom the offence passes. If one should come into the church and strike the bishop on his throne, would you not feel more indignant than if a common man in the street were the object of the insult? You have heard how Pius the Sixth was insulted; dragged about from place to place, until he died; and did you not feel indignant that such outrages were committed on the person of God's vicegerent? {230} Now, when you committed a mortal sin you insulted, not the vicegerent of God, but God himself. You contemned His authority and despised His greatness. Would you know Who it is Whom you have offended? Look at that mountain trembling with earthquakes, and breathing forth smoke and flame, hear the thunder roll around its head, and see the lightning flash! Mark the people, how they fall back affrighted and terrified! What is the cause of these convulsions of nature, and this terror of the people? God is speaking. He spake in Mount Sinai and the earth trembled before Him; and it is His words then spoken that you have defied, O sinner! Are you not afraid of His vengeance Whom you have offended? Open the heavens and see the angels, thousands of thousands and ten thousand times ten thousand, prostrate before Him. See all the saints adoring Him--the Blessed Virgin Mary herself trembling before His greatness. And you insult Him! What are you? A creature, a dependant, a slave. What would a master do if his slave should strike him? And you, a servant, a slave, a mere nothing, have not hesitated to raise your hand against Almighty God! And for what have you done all this? For the pleasure of sin. You have preferred a vile, temporary gratification, to the favor of Almighty God. When you sinned, there was on one side the beauty of God, the beauty of perfection, the splendor of grace, the joy of saints, peace of conscience, heaven; on the other there was the false pleasure of sin. You weighed them in the balance one with another, and, oh folly! in your estimation a moment's sin outweighed God and heaven and eternity. This is what the Almighty complains of in Holy Scripture: "_They violated me among my people for a handful of barley and a piece of bread to kill souls which should not die_." [Footnote 17] [Footnote 17: Ezech. xiii. 19.] {231} Oh! for how small a thing it is that you have been content to lose God--a few dollars of unjust gain, human respect, the gratification of revenge, a night's debauch, a half-hour's indulgence of sinful thoughts, a forbidden word, an intoxicating glass: for this you have thrown to the winds God and heaven. What has He not done for you? He takes care of you and gives you all you have. It is He who warms you by the sun, refreshes you by the air, gladdens and nourishes you by the green field. It is He who brought you through the dangerous time of childhood, Who led you up through manhood, Who redeemed you by His blood, made you a Catholic, and gave you your parents, friends, every blessing, and the hope of heaven beyond this life, and you have grieved and hated Him. See Jesus Christ before the Jews. He has spent His life in doing them good. He has labored for them and is about to die for them. And now they spit on Him, they buffet Him, they crown Him with thorns and bow the knee in mockery before Him. Nay, O sinner! thou art the Jew who did this. Thou by thy mortal sin hast made him an object of scorn. Thou hast spit upon Him, thou hast stabbed Him to the heart. Would you excuse a son from the guilt of parricide who should strike a knife to his father's heart, and should miss his aim? So, the sinner is no less guilty of the crime against the life of God because God cannot die. If God could die or cease to be, mortal sin is that which would kill Him. You have aimed a blow at the life of your best benefactor, of your God. And this is what passes in the world for a light thing. This is what men laugh at and boast of over their cups. This is what the world excuses, and takes for a matter of course; yes, this is what even boys and girls, as they grow up, desire not to be ignorant of--that they may know how to offend God. This is sin, so easily committed and so often committed, so quickly committed and so soon forgotten. Such it is in the sight of God and the holy angels. O sinner! when you smile, often when you are rejoicing over your wicked pleasure, the heavens are black overhead, and God is angry, and the angel of vengeance stands at your side with a glittering spear, that he may plunge it in your heart. {232} While you are careless, heaven and earth are groaning over your guilt. "_Wonder, O ye heavens, and be in amazement_," says God by the prophet. "_My people have done two evils. They have left me, the fountain of living water, and have digged out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water." "Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord hath spoken. I have brought up children and exalted them, but they have despised me. The ox knoweth his owner and the ass his master's crib, but Israel hath not known me, and my people hath not understood. Woe to the sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a wicked seed, ungracious children: they have forsaken the Lord, they have blasphemed the Holy one of Israel, they have gone away backward_." [Footnote 18] [Footnote 18: Isai. i. 2, 3, 4.] But in the second place, mortal sin is the greatest of all evils as regards the sinner himself. Let us consider what are its effects. Ah, my brethren, some of these effects are obvious enough. We have not to go far to seek them. We know them ourselves. What is the cause of much of the sickness that affects our race? What but sin? What is it that has ruined so many reputations, that once were fair and unblemished? What is it that has destroyed the peace of so many families? It is sin. What is it that makes so many young persons prematurely old, which steals the bloom from the cheek and the lustre from the eye, and gladness from the heart, and strength from the voice, and elasticity from the gait? Ah! it is sin. Yes! the effects of sin are visible and obvious to all around us, and these external effects of sin are dreadful enough, but they are not so dreadful as the internal effects, on which I purpose particularly to dwell. Well, my brethren, I just said that the nature of a mortal sin is to turn away from God to the creature. {233} Now, its effect is to kill the soul. There is a twofold life of the soul. One is a natural life, and this it can never lose, not even in hell, since it can never cease to be; and the other is the life of grace. You know, my brethren, that in the heart of a good Christian there dwells a wonderful quality, the gift of the Holy Ghost, which we call grace. It is given first in baptism, and resides habitually in the soul unless it is lost by mortal sin. This it is which makes the soul acceptable to God, and capable of pleasing Him, and of meriting heaven. This grace was purchased for us by the blood of Jesus Christ, and is the most precious gift of God. It ennobles, beautifies, elevates, strengthens, and enlightens the soul in which it dwells: in a word, it is the life of the soul. This grace abides in the soul of every faithful Christian, the little child, the virtuous young man and young woman, the old man and the matron, the rich and the poor. Everyone who is in the state of friendship with God is possessed of this grace. He may be poor, sick, weak in body, disgusting as Lazarus was, but if he is the friend of God, his soul is endowed with the gift of grace. Now, the moment that one commits a mortal sin, the moment that a baptized Christian turns away from God to the creature, that moment his soul is stripped of this divine grace. The moment that a mortal sin is committed, in an instant, in the twinkling of an eye, that robe of grace falls off from the soul and leaves it in its deformity and weakness. It cannot be otherwise. "Can two walk together," says Holy Scripture, "and not be agreed?" Can God remain united to the soul which has cast Him off by an act of complete and formal rebellion? Oh, no! God bears much with us, He retains His friendship for us as long as He can, He restrains His displeasure when we are weak and irresolute and tired in His service; yes, when we a little turn our heads and hearts toward that world which we have renounced, when we do things that, although wrong, are not altogether so grievous as to amount to a renunciation of His friendship: but once make a full choice between God and the creature, and God's friendship is lost. {234} You cannot reject it and retain it at the same time. God sees things exactly as they are: as you act toward Him, He will act toward you. By mortal sin you renounce Him, and therefore He must renounce you. How can I describe to you the change that takes place in that moment? It has more resemblance to the degradation of a priest than any thing else. If a priest commits certain great crimes, the Church prescribes that he be solemnly degraded from the priesthood; and nothing is more dreadful than the ceremonial. He stands before the bishop, clad in his sacred vestments, with alb and cincture, and maniple and stole, and with the chalice in which he has been wont to consecrate the blood of the Lord in his hands. Then when the sentence of degradation has been pronounced, the chalice is taken out of his hands--he shall offer the sacrifice of the Lord's body no more; the golden chasuble is taken off his back, no more shall he bear the glory of the priesthood; the stole is seized from off his neck--he has lost the stole of immortality; the white alb is torn from him-- he has lost the beauty of innocence; and last of all, his hands, on which at his ordination the holy oil was poured, are scraped--he has lost the unction of the Holy Ghost. So it is in the moment that one commits a mortal sin. The Holy Scripture calls every Christian a king and a priest, because in his soul he is noble and united to God; and the soul of the meanest Christian is far more beautiful in God's sight than the grandest monarch, dressed in his richest robes, is to our sight. Well, now, as soon as a mortal sin is committed, and God departs, then the degradation of the soul takes place. The devil tears away the garment of justice, the splendor of beauty, the whiteness of innocence, the robe of immortality, which make the soul worthy of the companionship of angels, and the friendship of God. All, all are gone. Oh, how abject and wretched is such a soul! {235} Oh I how quickly will this awful change go on, and even the poor soul herself thinks not of it! And do not think this horrible history is of rare occurrence. No! it takes place in every case of mortal sin. Look at that young man. See, his air and bearing show you that he knows something of the world, and that life has no secrets for him. Still there was once a time when that young man was innocent. He was a good Catholic child, his soul glistened with the brightness of baptismal grace. God looked down from heaven and smiled with pleasure; his guardian angel followed him in watchfulness indeed, but with joy and hope. He had his little trials, but what was it all--what was poverty or sickness or disappointment? Was he not a Christian? Was he not a friend of God, was not his soul beautiful in God's sight? Such he was; but a day came, a dark and dreadful day, when a voice, a seducing voice, spoke in the paradise of that heart: "_Rejoice, therefore, O young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart, and in the sight of thine eyes_." [Footnote 19] [Footnote 19: Eccles. xi. 9.] He listened to that voice and he fell: he was a changed being, he had committed his first mortal sin. Oh! if he could have seen the angry frown of God, the sad and downcast look of his guardian angel. Oh! if he could have heard the shriek of triumph that came up from the devils in hell. "Thou art also wounded as well as we, thou art become like unto us. Thy pride is brought down to hell. Thy carcass is fallen down. [Footnote 20] [Footnote 20: Isai. xiv. 10, 11.] But he hears nothing, he sees nothing, his brain is on fire, his heart is burned by passion. The world opens to him her brilliant pleasures, and he is perverted. His tastes and thoughts are all corrupted. He does not like the sacraments any more, or Mass or prayer; his delight is in haunts of dissipation, in drinking and debauchery. He commits every mortal sin, and each deepens the stains of his soul and increases his misery. Perhaps here and there, for a while, he comes to confession, but he falls back. {236} He neglects his church, begins to curse and blaspheme holy things, and then he is a wretched being, astray from God, with God's curse upon him, the slave of the devil, the heir of hell, fair indeed without; but look within--full of rottenness and uncleanness. Oh, weep for him--"_Weep not for the dead,_" says Holy Scripture, "_lament for him that goeth away, for he shall not return again._" [Footnote 21] [Footnote 21: Jer. xxii. 10.] Weep for that young man who has wandered away from his God. Weep for that young woman who has stained her soul with mortal sin. Weep for that old man who has let years go by in sin, and whose sins are counted by the thousand. Weep not for your child who leaves you to go to a distant land, but weep for him who is on his way to the land of eternal night, where everlasting horror inhabiteth. Weep for him who is on his way to hell. Is it not a story to make one weep? The ruin of a soul! "_How is the gold become dim, the fairest color is changed, the noble sons of Sion, and they that were clothed with the best of gold, how are they esteemed as earthen vessels, and the iniquity of the daughter of my people is made greater than the sin of Sodom._" [Footnote 22] [Footnote 22: Lam. iv. 1, 2, 6.] Once you were innocent, now you are guilty. Once you had a fair chance of heaven, now heaven is closed to you. Once, perhaps, you had rich merits laid up for heaven, you had gone through many trials, you had borne many sufferings, had achieved many labors of piety, and for each of them the good God, who never allows any good work to go unrewarded, had added many a jewel to your crown; but, alas! that crown is broken, those jewels scattered and crushed, those merits lost. And what has done this. That mortal sin! that rebellion against God, that sinful gratification, that turning away from God and loss of grace which it brought with it. Ah! my brethren, when I think of these things, when I think that Christians are falling into sin, and, for a very trifle and a nothing, losing the favor of God, I feel as if I wished all preachers should go out to the whole world and cry out: "Know thou and see that it is an evil and a bitter thing for thee to have left the Lord thy God." I am not surprised that St. Ignatius said he would be willing to do all he did for the prevention of one mortal sin. {237} But, my brethren I have not as yet described the full effects of mortal sin. It immediately makes us liable to the eternal punishment of hell. That is what hell is made for. It is the prison for mortal sin. Apostates from the faith, drunkards, murderers, adulterers, the impure, the dishonest, the profane, the impious, calumniators, and all sinners "shall have their portion in the pool burning with fire and brimstone, which is the second death." The sentence of damnation is in the next life, but damnation itself begins in this. Each one of us is a candidate for heaven or hell, at this present moment. Hell is not something which is assigned to us arbitrarily. We dig our own hell for ourselves. When we first commit a mortal sin we open hell under our feet, and every time we commit a fresh mortal sin we deepen that hell. It may happen even that the sentence is passed in the same instant that we sin. Many men die in the very act of sin. The fallen angels, themselves, sank into hell the very instant they committed mortal sin, and the instant they committed the first mortal sin. You know, my brethren, that the angels were created very beautiful and powerful. There were myriads and myriads of them. They were as beautiful as Gabriel or Michael or Raphael; and yet, as soon as they committed one mortal sin, notwithstanding their glory, their beauty, their number, their splendid intellects, their power, they were hurled from the thrones of heaven; not only defaced, degraded, and dishonored by the loss of sanctifying grace, but condemned to hell, chained in everlasting darkness, waiting for the judgment of the great day. If God dealt so with the angels, surely there is nothing unjust in cutting off the days of a sinner in the very moment of sin. {238} Oh! my brethren, I will tell you what happens when one sins: the devils come and claim this soul as their own: this poor soul becomes the slave of the devil, the heir of hell and of damnation. It is not for nothing, then, that conscience makes such a terrible alarm in the soul when we commit a mortal sin. Tell me, did you not at the moment you sinned hear a stern voice speaking in the depths of your heart? Tell me, O my brethren, did you not, when you were deeply plunged in sinful enjoyment, feel a dreadful pang at your heart? Tell me, now that you stand in God's holy presence, tell me now, is there not something within you that tells you, you are ruined? What is that? Ah! that is the beginning of the remorse of the damned. That is the sting of the worm that shall never die. That is the shadow of thine eternal doom in thy soul. It tells thee that thou art the child of the devil; it tells thee that thou hast lost God, and that thou art not fit for heaven, but art an heir of hell. And it tells thee truly. If this moment thou wert to die, like Dives, thou wouldst be buried in hell. And why? For a momentary gratification of appetite? Is that what you will be punished for? No; but because, for a momentary gratification of appetite, thou hast forsaken the Lord thy God, broken His law, lost His grace. Thou hast made thy choice. Thou hast chosen sin and not God, and death overtakes thee before thou hast returned to God by penance, and thou art lost; lost on account of thy sin, lost forever on account of thy sin. Go down to the chambers of hell, ask Dives, ask Judas, ask the fallen angels, ask each one who in that dark abode drags out a long eternity; ask them what it is that brought them there, and they will tell you, mortal sin. It is mortal sin that kindles that flame, that feeds that fire, that makes them burn unceasingly, and forever. Oh then, tell me! if you will not listen to reason, to God, to the angels; will you not listen to your companions lost? {239} Hearken to them as from their dark prison they cry out, "It is an evil and a bitter thing to have left the Lord thy God." Such, my brethren, is mortal sin. Such is one mortal sin. It does not require many mortal sins to lose God's grace or incur damnation. One is enough--one final deliberate rebellion against God and his holy law. * * * (Peroration, according to the circumstances.) ----------------- Sermon III. The Particular Judgment. (Mission Sermon.) "It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God." --Heb. x. 31. There is a moment, my brethren, in the history of each immortal soul, which, of all others that precede or follow it, is the fullest of experience: the moment after death. The moment of death is indeed the decisive moment of our history. Then the question is settled, once for all, whether we are to be happy or miserable for all eternity; but, for the most part, we do not know that decision. Many men die insensible. By far the larges part of those I have seen die, have died insensible. And even when the power of the mind remains to the last, it is extremely difficult to form any true conception of that state of things into which the soul is about to be ushered. It is difficult to conceive aright beforehand of any thing to which we are unaccustomed. Did it ever happen to you to visit a strange country, and to form anticipations of what it would seem like, and did not the reality falsify all your anticipations? Well, how much more difficult to realize those things which the soul sees immediately after death, and which are so much farther removed from our former experience! {240} According to Catholic theology, immediately after death, the soul appears in the presence of Jesus Christ to be judged--to receive an unalterable sentence to heaven or to hell. If to hell, no prayers can benefit it; if to heaven, it goes there immediately or not, according to the degree of its goodness. But it is judged unalterably to heaven or hell, the moment after death. And Catholic theologians teach that this judgment takes place in the very chamber of death itself. There, in that room, while they are dressing the body for the grave, closing the eyes, bandaging the mouth, arranging the limbs in order, that soul has already learned the secrets of the eternal world. Naked and alone, it had stood before its Judge, and heard its doom pronounced. To everyone, no doubt, even to the most pious, to those who have meditated on the truths of faith, there will be something alarming in this moment; but, oh! what will it be to the sinful Catholic? What will be the thoughts and feelings of that large class of Catholics, now careless about their salvation, who are obeying every impulse of passion, and breaking every commandment of God? This, indeed, is a difficult question to answer. There is but little in this world that can help us to portray the emotions of the lost Catholic, the moment after death; but I will not on this account desist from attempting to describe it. I will consider your advantage rather than my own satisfaction, and though I feel deeply that I shall not be able to describe the scene I undertake in anything like the colors of truth, I will undertake to do what I can. First, then, following the soul beyond the limits of this world, I see her overwhelmed with a _conviction_ of the reality and truth of the objects of her faith. Now, in saying that this soul obtains a conviction of the truths of faith, I do not mean to suppose the case of one who has been a sceptic in this world. The truth is, faith is so strong a principle in the heart of a Catholic, that it is exceedingly difficult to put it out or shake it. {241} And although it sometimes happens that a Catholic; from reading bad books, or frequenting the society of those who blaspheme his religion, or from becoming acquainted suddenly with some of the difficulties which science seems to present to faith, and not knowing the answer to them, or from the petty pride of seeming wiser than his neighbors, and making objections which unlearned Catholics cannot answer, may use the language of a sceptic; yet such cases are very rare, and the scepticism is not very deep. A little guidance from one who knows better, and a little humility on the part of such an objector, will set all right. But there is a kind of infidelity not so easily cured, and far more common among Catholics--a practical infidelity, an insensibility and indifference to the truths of faith. The truths of faith--I mean, heaven and hell, God and the soul--are not seen by the eye--it requires reflection to realize them; but the world, and the objects which it presents, are visible and tangible. The former are lost sight of, while the latter absorb all our thoughts. The body clamors for necessities and pleasures, and the soul, and things of eternity, are simply forgotten. It is almost the same to many men as if there were no God, no eternity, no heaven, or no hell. Really, one hardly sees in what the lives of many Catholics would differ from what they are now if there were no God, no heaven or hell. I do not mean to say that they have no faith at all, for even the heathens have some faith; or that they never think of God, for then they would be brutes; but that these things have no real hold on their minds or influence over their hearts. They never reflect. They stay away from the sacraments. They do not listen to sermons. They have no correct idea at all of the advantage they enjoy in being Catholics; in a word, they break the commandments of God on the slightest temptation, are children of this world and immersed in its cares and enjoyments. Now, one of these men meets with a sudden death. {242} He goes out in the morning--perhaps he is a mechanic--and he falls from a height. He is taken up and put in a litter hastily made, and carried home. It is apparent that life is ebbing fast. In a few minutes he becomes speechless. He has lost his sight. Ah! does he breathe at all? It is hard to say. The doctor comes in great haste. He feels his pulse, looks at him, and says, "It is all over. He has received an injury in a vital part. He is dead." Yes, he is dead. This morning he was alive and well, he was making his plans, he was talking of the weather--now he is dead. All his old thoughts and experience are all rolled back by a new set of things that are forcing themselves on his vision. He is dead. He died suddenly; but not without warning. Others have died in his home before--he is not young. He has seen wife and children die. It made him weep for a while; but he forgot it, and now his turn is come--he is dead. I will not stop to notice the grief of the friends he leaves behind. No; I will follow his soul, as it enters eternity. The voice of his friends dies on his ear--he begins to hear other voices. As he ceases to see the people in his room he begins to see other objects. Who is that, that is standing at the foot of his bed? A neighbor was standing there but just now; but this is another form, a form beautiful, indeed, but majestic and terrible. No; it is not anyone he has ever seen before, and yet, he ought to know that face. He has seen it before; it is the face his mother looked on as she was dying-the face he had often seen in Catholic churches. Yes, it is Jesus Christ. He knows it; it is the same, and yet, how different! When he saw that face in pictures, it was crowned with thorns; now it is crowned with a diadem of matchless glory. When he saw that form in the church, it was naked, and hanging on the Cross; now it is clothed with garments of regal magnificence. Yes, it is Jesus Christ! and He is looking upon him with eyes of fire. He turns to escape those eyes, and he sees there are other figures in the scene. {243} There are two figures--one at the right hand, and one at the left. Who are they? He ought to know them, for they know more of him than anyone else--they have been his companions for life. One is very beautiful--a being with golden locks and cloud-like wings--that is his angel guardian; he looks sad now, for he has nothing good to say. And the other is the black and hideous demon of hell, that crouches at his side, full of hate and malice, and triumph, too, for he has dogged the steps of this poor sinner from youth to age, and now the time has come for him to seize his prey. And now, as the sinner looks from one to another, the meaning of it an breaks upon him. Conviction flashes upon his mind. He may not have been an infidel before; but putting his past feelings by the side of his present experience, it seems almost as if he had been. Did it ever happen to you to be talking quite unconcernedly, and all at once to find that others were listening, before whom for worlds you would not have used such unreserve. Well, to compare small things with great, something like this will be the feeling of the sinner when the curtain of time draws up, and shows him the realities of eternity. The whole tide of his past thoughts and feelings will be arrested, and, with a great check, rolled back before the new set of experiences and sights that rush in on him. Oh! he will say, what is this that I see and hear? Has Jesus Christ always been so near me? Have my guardian angel and the demon that has tempted me been always in this very room? Ah, yes! it is even so. I have been living in a dream all my life, and pursuing shadows. It is true, as I learned in the catechism, and as the Church taught me, I was not made for the world or for sin, but for God. I had a soul, and the end of my being was to love and serve my Maker. He has been watching me all my days, and I have thought little of Him. I heard of judgment, but I did not give heed to it, or I placed it far off in the future; but now it is here at the door. There is my Saviour, there my angel guardian, there the demon. {244} Once I heard of these things, now I see them with my eyes. Yes, it is all true. The world did not seem to believe it, the world forgot it; but the world was wrong. The poor and the simple were right, after all, and the wise ones taken in their own craftiness. Yes, Christianity is true, Catholicity is true; I cannot doubt it, if I would, for there it stares me in the face! O, overwhelming conviction! You have heard of the answer of a self-denying old monk to a wild, licentious youth, who reproached him with his folly in living so severe a life for the sake of a hereafter he had never seen. "Father," said the youth, "how much wiser I am than you, if there be no hereafter!" "Yes, my son," replied the aged man, "but how much more foolish, if there be!" O fearful discovery, to come on one for the first time, with a strong and deep impression, at the very threshold of eternity! O miserable man! why did you not think of these things before? Why did you rush into the presence of your Maker without forethought? Now, for the first time, to think seriously, when there is no longer freedom in thought, or merit in faith. O, the folly and the misery! But I must pass on, for these are but the beginning of sorrows. The conviction, then, that the soul acquires in the first moment of her experience in the other world is accompanied by a mortal terror. Why is Jesus Christ there? Why are the angel and the demon there? Ah! he knows well. It is to try him. Yes, he is to be tried, and to be tried by an unerring judge--by Jesus Christ. To be tried; and that is something he is not used to. He never tried himself. He never examined his conscience. He was afraid to do it, and if sometimes the thought of a hereafter intruded itself into his mind, he banished it, and thought he would escape somehow or other. Perhaps he built on the very name of Catholic, or on the sacraments, as if they possessed a magical power, and would change him at once, in the hour of death, from a sinner to a saint. {245} Perhaps he thought that God would strike a balance between the good and the evil that was in him, and pardon him for being as wicked as he was because he was no worse. Perhaps he built simply on the mercy of God. So far as he thought at all, he built his hopes on some such foundation as this. He did not know how, but he thought somehow he would get off. It is the old story. Almighty God said to Eve: "In the day thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." And Eve said to the serpent: "We may not eat it, lest we die." And the serpent said: "Ye shall not surely die." So it is; man's self-love reasons, and the devil denies. But the time has come when the deceits of sin and the devil are discovered. The sinner is to be tried. He stands as a culprit to be judged. And by what law is he to be tried? By the ten commandments, of which he has heard so often, and which he has neglected so completely. God says: "Thou shalt not break My commandments, and in the day thou breakest them thou shalt surely die." God had said: "Thou shalt not commit adultery." He had committed it. God had said: "Thou shalt not steal;" and he had stolen. God had said: "Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath day." He had broken the Sunday and neglected the Sunday's Mass. God had said: "Thou shalt do no murder;" and he had murdered his own soul by drunkenness. He had grown bold in sin, and thought that God had hidden away his face, and would never see it. And now he is brought to trial. There is no hope that his transgressions against the commandments can be hidden. The demon is there as his accuser. "I claim this soul as mine. Look at it; see if it does not belong to me? Does it not look like me? Wilt thou take a soul like that and place it in thy paradise?" At these words the sinner looks down upon himself and sees his own soul. He has never seen it before. Oh, what a sight! As a man is horror-struck the first time he sees his blotched and bloated face after an attack of small-pox, so is he horror-struck at the sight of his own soul. {246} Oh, how horribly ugly and defiled it is! What are those stains upon his soul Ah! they are the stains of sin. Each one has left its separate mark; and to look at that soul you might see its history. There is the gangrene of lust, and the spot of anger, and the tumor of pride, and the scale of avarice. Ah! how hideous it is, and how horrible to think how it is changed, for it was once like that beautiful angel that stands by its side, all radiant with light and beauty. It has no resemblance now. The words of the demon are true; it resembles him. But the accuser goes on: "I claim this body as mine." He turns to the body, as it lies in the bed: "I claim those eyes as mine, by the title of all the lascivious looks they have given. I claim those hands as mine, by the title of all the robberies and acts of violence they have committed. I claim those feet as mine, because they were swift to carry him to the place of forbidden pleasures, and slow to go to the house of God. I claim these ears as mine, by the title of all the detraction they have drunk in so greedily. I claim this mouth as mine, by the title of all the blasphemies and impurities it has uttered. See," says he, "this body is mine; it bears my mark;" and as he speaks he points to a scar in the forehead, the remnant of a wound received in a drunken affray in a house of ill-fame. Surely he has said enough; but he is not accustomed to be believed. He has now spoken the truth indeed, because truth serves his purpose better than falsehood would have done. But he knows he is a liar, and therefore needs confirmation; so he goes on: "I have witnesses, if you want them. Shall I bring them up?" Jesus Christ gives his permission. And now see, at his word, a band of lost spirits come up from hell. Oh! how pale and haggard they look, and how they glare on the sinner as they fix on him a look of recognition. Who is that who speaks to him first, and holds out her long withered fingers to him, and says, with a horrid laugh: "I think you know me." {247} Oh! that is the poor girl he seduced. She says: "I followed thee to ruin; it is fitting thou shouldst follow me to hell." But there is another woman. Who is that? That is his poor wife; his poor wife, who had to put up with all the cruelties and violence he practised in his beastly drunkenness; who was led by want to steal, and by despair to drunkenness. She looks upon him with a blood-shot eye. "My husband," she says: "thou wert my tormentor in time; I will be thy tormentor in eternity." But who are those young people, that young man and young woman? Oh, they are his eldest children, his boy and girl, of whom he took no care; who, finding nothing but a hell at home, went out--the one to the tavern and the gaming-room, the other to the ball and the dance and the lonely place of assignation, and, after a short career of dissipation, were both cut off in their sin. They meet him, and now they say: "Father, thou didst pave the way of perdition for us, and now we will cling to thee, and drag thee deeper, who art at once the author of our life and of our destruction." Ah! has not the demon made out his case? Can there be hope for one like that? Are you not ready to condemn him yourselves to hell? But wait--perhaps he did good penance. And the Judge, turning to the angel guardian says: "My good and faithful servant, what has thou to say in behalf of this soul, which was committed to thy especial care?" The angel looks down upon the ground and sighs, and answers, "Most just and holy Sovereign, alas! I have nothing to say that can set aside the accusation Thou hast beard. All I can do is to vindicate Thy justice and my fidelity. I have given to the man all the graces Thou hast prepared for him. He was a Catholic. He had the sacraments. He had warnings. He had faith. He had many special graces. He had the mission; and I myself often spoke to him in his heart, calling him to do penance, but he never did do penance. He was careless in attendance at Mass. {248} He was seldom at the confessional, and when he did come he made his confession without a sincere purpose of amendment, and soon relapsed into his former sins, and at last he died without penance. Therefore there is nothing left for me but to resign my charge and to return the crown"--here the angel takes up a beautiful crown--"to return the crown which Thou hadst made for him, that Thou mayst place it on another brow." "Dost Thou not hear," the demon once more cries out impatiently--"Dost thou not hear what the angel says? Yes, this man is mine, has always been mine. I did not create him, and yet he always served me. Thou didst create him, and yet he has refused to obey Thee. I never died for him, yet he has been my willing slave. Thou didst die for him, and yet he has "blasphemed Thy name, broken Thy laws and despised Thy promises. Thou didst allure him by kindness, but wert not able to win his affection. I led him to hell, and found him willing to follow. O Jesus, thou Son of the living God, if Thou dost not give me this soul, there is neither truth in Thy word nor justice in Thy awards." The demon speaks boldly, but Jesus Christ suffers him to speak so, because he speaks truly; and oh, with what terror does the poor sinner hear that truth! But terror is not the only feeling that is to fill his heart. Despair is to come in, to make his misery complete. He begins to cry for mercy. "O God, mercy! have mercy, O Jesus Christ! Do not let me perish whom Thou hast redeemed. I have had the faith; oh, do not let me come to perdition! Only one quarter of an hour to do penance!" Can Jesus Christ resist such an appeal? No, my brethren, if there were a real disposition to do penance in the heart. I will undertake to say that if the devils of hell were willing to do penance, God would forgive them. But there is no penance in the other world. There is only the desire to escape punishment, not the desire to escape sin; and being out of the order of the present providence of God, which leaves the will free, there is no real conversion there. {249} Therefore Jesus Christ answers: "O wicked man, thy deeds condemn thee. Thou callest for mercy, but it is too late. The time for mercy is over! Mercy! thou hast shown no mercy to thyself, to thy wife or children. Mercy! I have shown thee mercy all the days of thy life. I sent thee my preachers, and thou didst refuse to listen. There is no mercy now but justice--and therefore I pronounce the everlasting sentence. I consign this man's soul to hell, and his body to the resurrection of damnation." Did you hear that howl? That was the devil's howl of triumph. Jesus Christ is gone. The angel is gone; and the devil goes to the body. They have not done washing it. He begins to wash too. What is he doing. He is washing the forehead; for on that forehead, the mark of Christ, the holy cross, was placed in baptism, and he is washing it out, and with a brand from hell he places there his own signet--the signet of perdition. And now the soul, feeling the full extent of her misery, cries out: "I am damned. I am damned! no hope more; not even Purgatory. Oh, I never thought it would come to this; I did but do as the others. I was no worse than my companions, and now I am lost. I that was a Catholic, I that had always a good name, and was liked by my friends. And oh, are the judgments of God so strict? What will become of my companions whom I left on the earth, wild and reckless like my self? Will they too follow me to this place of torment! Oh, why did not the priest speak of this? Alas! he did, but I would not hear. Alas, alas, it is too late now! Shall I never see Jesus Christ again? Must I forever despair?" And a voice rises from the walls of eternity with ten thousand reverberations: "Despair." Can there be any thing more dreadful still? Yes, the sinner's cup has one more ingredient of bitterness--remorse. You know what a comfort it is to be able to say, "It was not my fault, I did what I could." But the sinner will not have that comfort. On the contrary, he will say, "I might have been saved. It is all true which the angel said. {250} I was a Catholic, and had the means of salvation. I might have been saved, saved easily, more easily than I was lost. I was never happy; sin never made me happy. I sinned, and gained for myself misery even in the other world. Fool that I was, I might have done penance, and been happier after it, in time and in eternity. How little God asked of me! I had the mission, if I had but made it well. Oh, what trouble I took to be damned, and how little was required of me to be saved! Yesterday, God was ready; the sacraments were at hand, the church door open, the priest was awaiting me; but now all is closed. Oh, if I had them now!" But his complaints are silenced. An iron grasp is on his throat. The demon has his black hand on his throat and chokes him; then he puts his horrid arms around him, and hugs him as the anaconda hugs her victims. He carries him swiftly through the air: down, down they go--until at last they reach the gates of hell. They creak upon their hinges, they open, the demon enters with his prey, and casts it on the bed of flames prepared for it. Then a yell is heard throughout those dismal regions: "One more Catholic vocation thrown away, one more soul lost, one more devil in hell." Come, let us go back to that room where the corpse is laid out. They have just finished preparing it for the grave, and all that we have described has been taking place in that very room too, and they have not known it. They have smoothed the body and laid a white cloth over it; and they say, how natural it looks. It wears the smile they remember it used to wear in youth, and that poor soul they are talking of is damned. Jesus Christ has been there, and adjudged it to hell. And this is going on every day. Wherever death takes a man, there judgment meets him. Jesus Christ meets men in all kinds of places. {251} You know how death met Baltassar. He was a drunkard, an adulterer, a sacrilegious robber; and one night, when he was drunk, and held a grand feast, surrounded by his concubines, and with the vessels of God's house on his table, a hand appeared on the wall and wrote this sentence: "Mene, Mene, Thecel, Phares;" and that night he died. Yes! in the midst of their sin; in the place where they go, Jesus Christ meets the soul, and condemns it to hell. He meets it in the grogshop, where wild companions are gathered together, and one of them falls to the ground, under the blow of a companion, and dies. There upon that spot, with those bad companions standing around, with the sound of blasphemy in his ear, Jesus Christ, unseen, meets that soul and condemns it to hell. Another is shot in the street, on his way to keep an assignation, and then and there, in the street, Jesus Christ meets him and condemns him to hell. One dies in the low hovel, where squalid vice and misery have done all they could to brutalise the inmates, and then and there Jesus Christ, in that hovel, meets the soul and condemns it to hell. Another dies in a bed covered with silken tapestry, and as he dies he sees the face of Jesus Christ looking in through the silken curtains to pronounce the sentence against him, who had made a god of this world. Another dies in prison, and there in that cell where human justice placed him, divine justice meets him, and in that prison Jesus Christ meets him and condemns him to hell. Yes, wherever death meets you, O sinner, there Jesus Christ will meet you, and there he will condemn you. It may be tomorrow. It may be in the very act of the commission of sin. It may be without any opportunity of preparation, you will stand before an inflexible and unerring Judge. Oh, then, do not delay now to propitiate Him while you can. In that tribunal after death, there is no mercy for the sinner; but there is another tribunal, which He has established, where there is mercy--the tribunal of penance. There the accuser is not the demon, but the sinner himself; and he is not only his own accuser, but his own witness against himself. There the angel guardian waits with joy, not with sorrow. There Jesus Christ is present, but not in wrath. {252} There the sentence is, "I absolve thee from thy sin," not "I condemn thee for thy sin." Oh, then, appeal from one tribunal to the other. Appeal from Jesus Christ to Jesus Christ. Appeal from Jesus Christ at the day of judgment to Jesus Christ in the confessional. And if thou wouldst not be condemned by Him when thou seest Him after death, be sure thou gettest a favorable sentence from Him now in the Sacrament of Penance. "_Make an agreement with thy adversary quickly, whilst thou art in the way with him: lest perhaps the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Amen. I say to thee, thou shalt not go out from thence till thou pay the last farthing._" [Footnote 23] [Footnote 23: St. Matt. v. 25.] --------------------------- Sermon IV. Heaven. (Mission Sermon.) "Rejoice and be exceeding glad, because your reward is very great in heaven." --St: Matt. v. 12. Some of you may remember the joy with which, after a sea voyage, you arrived at home. The voyage had been very long and wearisome. You had suffered, perhaps had been in danger. At last you heard the sailors cry "Land;" and after a while, your less practised eye began to discern the blue hills of your native country. Oh, how that sight revived you! How your sufferings and dangers were all forgotten in the thought of the welcome that awaited you at home! {253} Well, life is a voyage on the ocean of time; often a tempestuous, always a dangerous voyage; and in order to animate our courage, to cheer and console us, God has allowed us from time to time to catch a glimpse by faith of our distant home of heaven. Let us lift up our thoughts now to that happy land, the land that is very far off, the land that is wide and quiet; the celestial paradise, the home of the blessed, the city of God. I know that we cannot gain any sufficient idea of it. I know that eye hath not seen its beauty, ear hath not heard the story of it, neither hath the heart of man conceived its image; but we must do as men do with some costly jewel: turn it first on one side, then on another, to catch its brilliancy; and if at the last we fall down, blinded and dazzled by the splendors which meet us, we shall in this way at least conceive something of the greatness of those things which God has provided for those who love Him. The Holy Scripture represents the pleasures of heaven in three different lights: first, as Rest; second, as Joy; third, as Glory. Let us, then, meditate upon them for a while, under each one of these three aspects. First, then, heaven is a place of rest, by which I understand the absence of all those things which disturb us here. True, there is happiness even in this life, but how unsatisfactory, how fleeting! Here we are never far off from wretchedness, and never long without trouble. You go into a great city: how rich and gay every thing looks; what crowds of well-dressed people pass you! Ah! in the next street there is the dismal hovel where poverty hides its head, and the children cry for bread, and there is no one to break it to them. You are strong and healthy, and it is a strange, fierce joy for you on a cold day to struggle with the buffetings of the wintry blast; but see, the rude wind that kindles a glow on your cheek steals away the bloom from yonder sick man, whose feeble step and sharpened features tell of suffering and disease. {254} You have a happy family, and when you go home your children clamber up on your knees, and your wife meets you with a smile of affection. Alas! next door, the widow weeps the night long, and there is none to comfort her, for the young man, the only son of his mother, has been carried to his long home. And as if this were not enough, as if sickness and poverty and death did not cause misery enough in the world, men's passions, hate and envy, lust, avarice, and pride, unite to make many a moment wretched that might else have been happy. But in heaven these things shall be no more. In heaven. there shall be complete and perfect rest. The poor man will no more be forced to toil hardly and anxiously to put bread in his children's mouths--to rise up early, and late take rest; for there they shall not hunger nor thirst any more. The sick man then shall leap as a hart; he shall run and not be weary; he shall walk and not faint. The widow's tears shall be dried, for husband and son shall be again restored to her. Oh, what a day shall that be, when dear friends shall meet together, never to part again, and God shall wipe all tears from their eyes, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away; when the bodies of the saints, glorious and immortal, no longer subject to decay or fatigue or death, clothed in light, shall enter the gates of the celestial city, and shall have a right to the tree of life! And there shall be no sin there, no gust of passion, no reproach of conscience, no sting of temptation. In this life, says St. Augustine, we have the liberty of being able not to sin, but in heaven we shall have the higher liberty of not being able to sin. Brother shall not rise up against brother, neither shall there be war any more, for the former things are passed away. There shall be no strife or hatred or envy; no wrong or oppression; no unkindness or coldness; no falsehood or insincerity; but within a perfect peace, and without an unalterable friendship between all the inhabitants of this happy land, each rejoicing in the other's happiness and glory. And there is no end to these joys of heaven. {255} Here our best pleasures are alloyed by their transitoriness; but there, there is no fear for the future. No wave disturbs the deep, clear sea of crystal that lies before the throne of God. The angel has sworn that time shall be no longer, and the great day of eternity has begun. O heavenly Jerusalem! O city of God! which has no need of sun or moon to enlighten it, for there is no night there! welcome haven of rest to the poor exiles of earth! Blessed are they that shall enter thy gates of pearl and tread thy streets of gold, for thou art the perfection of beauty and the joy of the whole earth. In thy secure recesses the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. "Blessed are they that die in the Lord, for they rest from their labors. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the Lord. My people shall be all just; they shall inherit the land forever, the branch of my planting, the work of my hands, to glorify me." But though it is easier to describe heaven as a place of rest, that is not the whole description of it. Heaven is also a place of joy, and of joy the most complete, the most pure, the most satisfying that the human heart can possess. Joy in seeing and loving God, or, as it is called, in the Beatific Vision. This it is in which consists essentially the Christian idea of heaven. I say the Christian idea, for our faith teaches us to look forward to a happiness very different from what we could have expected by nature. Of course natural reason teaches us to look forward to a future life, but it promises no other knowledge of God but such as is possible to our own natural powers when fully developed. But Christianity promises us a knowledge of God to which our natural powers, however enlarged, could never aspire. It teaches us that we shall see Him as He is--not only think about Him and commune with Him and adore Him, but actually look upon His unveiled Divinity, gaze upon Him face to face. It is not of our Lord's glorified humanity that I speak. {256} That, too, we shall see, and that will be a sight of unspeakable beauty and joy; but we shall see more: we shall look upon and into the Divine Essence. Now to our natural powers this is impossible. A blind man can know a great deal about the sun. He may hear it described, he may reason about it, he may feel its effects, but he cannot lift up his eyes to heaven and see it. So, naturally speaking, we have not the faculty whereby to see God. "_No man hath seen God at any time_," says St. John. "_Whom no man hath seen, or can see, who inhabiteth the light inaccessible_," says St. Paul. [Footnote 24] [Footnote 24: St. John i. 18; I. Tim. vi. 16.] Clearly there must be some great change in us, something given to us that does not belong to us as men, in order to enable us to see God, and the Holy Scripture tells us what that change shall be: "_We shall be like to Him, for we shall see Him as He is_," says St. John. [Footnote 25] [Footnote 25: I. Ep. St. John iii. 2.] We ourselves shall become divine and godlike. The human intellect shall be marvellously strengthened by a gift which the Church calls the light of glory, which shall enable us to look upon God and live. We are told in Scripture that God walked in the garden of Eden and talked with Adam and Eve in the cool of the day. This high companionship was broken by the fall. Man was reduced to the rank that essentially belonged to him, and was deprived of that which had been accorded to him of grace. But by baptism he acquires once more a right to that familiar intercourse with God, and in heaven he enters upon its enjoyment. For this reason heaven is called our fatherland. It is our lost inheritance recovered. There we ourselves shall be the sons of God, and God will be our Father. Think what is the relation of an affectionate son to a good and wise father. What submission with equality--what complete sympathy and community of interest--what intimate communication of thought and feeling! So, O Christian soul! shall it be between you and God. God will be your God, and you will be His child. {257} Thou shalt dwell in His home, and all that He hath shall be thine. "_All things are yours, the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to come; for all are yours, and you are Christ's, and Christ is God's_." [Footnote 26] [Footnote 26: 1 Cor. iii 23.] Yes, God himself shall be yours. You shall look around you and see His towering altitudes, and count them as your own. You shall look deep down into the depths of His wisdom and be wise as God is. You shall find yourself upborne by His power and goodness, enveloped by His glory, and adorned with His beauty. Oh! my brethren, is not this joy? Tell me, tell me, young men, tell me, children, tell me truly, one and all, what have been the happiest moments of your life? Was it the moments you have spent in sin? Was it the hour of some earthly success or triumph? Or was it not rather at some hour when God was near to you, and you felt the music of His voice and the perfume of His breath--some time when you were praying, or when you had made a good confession or communion, or when you were listening to a sermon? I know it was. I know there are times when every man has felt the words of the Psalmist: "_What have I in heaven? and besides Thee what do I desire upon earth? Thou art the God of my heart, and the God that is my portion forever._" [Footnote 27] [Footnote 27: Ps. lxxxii. 26.] What are all the attainments of learned men to Him who is all-wise? What are all the conceptions of genius to Him who is all-beautiful, or the moral excellencies of good men to Him who is all-holy? Yes, the thought of God is the source of the purest and highest pleasure on earth. That thought has ravished the saints with ecstasy, and made the martyrs laugh at their torments. And if merely to think about God in this life can make us so happy, what must it be to see Him in the life to come? {258} To know God and to love Him, to know Him as we are known by Him, to love Him with our whole souls, to possess Him without the fear of losing Him, to take part in His counsels, to enter into His will, and to share in His blessedness--this is a joy, perfect and supreme; and this is the joy of heaven. This is the joy offered to you. This is all-satisfying. The soul can desire nothing more. This is permanent, for heaven is eternal. This is always new, for God is riches and beauty inexhaustible and infinite. Oh, my brethren, do not envy those who were near our Lord's person when He was upon earth. I know it is natural to do so. I know it is natural to say, "If I could but have seen His face, or heard the sound of His voice;" but no! yours is a still happier lot. Do not envy Magdalene, who kissed His feet, nor St. John, on whose breast He leaned, nor the Blessed Virgin, who bore Him in her arms. Is it not permitted to the poorest and the weakest of you to see Him, not in His humility, but in his glory--to converse with Him and dwell with Him in the land of the living? Oh! blessed are they that dwell in Thy house! The world passeth away, and the lust thereof, but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever. Blessed are they that hear the Word of God and do it! Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God! One would have thought that this was enough. To be free from all the trials and sufferings of this present life, and to enjoy the fullest happiness a human soul is capable of--one would think that were heaven enough, and that no more could be added. But the bounty of God has added another element to the happiness of heaven. Heaven is a place of glory--not of rest only, but of glory also. "Glory, honor and peace," says the apostle, "to every man that doeth well." Heaven is the place of God's glory, and it is also the place of the glory of the saints. Even here the good are honored --the really good. True, for a while they may be despised and persecuted, but, in the long run, nothing is honored so much as virtue. {259} During the lifetime of Nero and St. Paul, Nero was a powerful emperor, praised and flattered by his courtiers, and St. Paul a friendless and despised prisoner; now, Nero is abhorred as the wicked tyrant, and St. Paul honored by all men as the saint and hero. But this is not enough. In heaven the honor of the saints will be magnificent. God himself will honor them. This is one reason for the last judgement, that God may publicly give honor to the good. "_Whosoever shall glorify me, him will I glorify_," says the Almighty; [Footnote 28] and they who are saved will be admitted to heaven with respect and solemnity, as those whom the King delights to honor. [Footnote 28: 1 Ki. ii. 30.] This is represented to us in the description of the last judgment: "Then shall He turn to them on the right hand and say: 'Come, ye blessed of my Father, possess the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.'" See how He praises them. See how He honors them and makes kings out of them. They are astonished: it seems too much. They know not how they have deserved it. But He insists upon it as their right. He repeats the good actions they have done. "I was hungry and ye gave me meat, I was thirsty and ye gave me to drink. I was naked and ye clothed me." Do you hear this, my brethren? So will it be with you when you stand before God to be judged. He will hold in His hand a beautiful diadem of gold, and he will say: "This is for thee." And thou shalt be amazed and shalt say: "No, Lord, this is not for me. I am nothing but a laboring man. I am but a poor boy. I am only a servant-girl. I am not the child of the rich and great. No one ever made way for me in the street, or rose up when I came into their company." But Christ shall say: "Nay! a prince thou art, for thou hast done the deeds of a prince." {260} Then He will begin to mention them one by one--your kindness to your old mother and father--your humble confession that it was so difficult to make, and which you made so well--the time you overcame that great temptation, and resolved, once for all, to be virtuous--the occasion of sin you renounced--the prayers you said in humility and sincerity--the sacrifices you made for your faith--the true faith you kept with your husband or wife--the patience you practised in pain or vexation. Then He will show you your throne in heaven, so bright you will think it an apostle's, or the Blessed Virgin Mary's, or that it belongs to God himself; and then the tears of joy and surprise will drop from your eyes, and your heart will be nigh bursting with confusion; but He will smile upon you, and take you by the hand, and say: "Yes, thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things." Then He will give thee a certain jurisdiction, a certain power of intercession; make thee an assessor in His high court of heaven, and make thee to sit on a throne with Him, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. And others shall honor thee. The saints shall honor thee. The Blessed Virgin shall honor thee. Now thou honorest her, so much at a distance from thee, and callest her Lady; but then it shall be as it was when St. John and the Blessed Virgin dwelt together in one home. Thou shalt still honor her as the Mother of Jesus, and she shall honor thee as His disciple. St. Peter and St. John and St. James and St. Andrew shall honor thee. Now thou makest thy litanies to them; but then it will be as it was when Peter and Thomas and Nathanael and the sons of Zebedee were together, and Jesus came in the midst and dined with them. The saints shall be one family with thee. They will walk with thee, and sit with thee, and call thee by name, and tell thee the secrets of Paradise. And the angels shall honor thee. Now thou addressest thy angel guardian on bended knee; but then he will say to thee: "See thou do it not; I am thy fellow-servant, and of thy brethren, who have the testimony of Jesus." And the Church on earth shall praise thee. As long as time shall last, she shall make mention of thee as one of those who rejoice with Christ in His glorious kingdom, and, clothed in white, follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth. {261} Yes, and the wicked and the devils shall honor thee. Now they may affect to despise you--now they may persecute you and trouble you; but then they will be forced to do you honor, and, groaning within themselves for anguish of spirit, and amazed at the suddenness of your unexpected salvation, shall say: _These are they whom we had sometime in derision, and for a parable if reproach. We fools esteemed their life madness and their end without honor. Behold how they are numbered among the children of God, and their lot is among the saints_." [Footnote 29] [Footnote 29: Wisd. v. 3, 4, 5.] Such, my brethren, are the joys of heaven, or, rather, such is the faintest and poorest idea of the joys of heaven. Men seek for wealth as the means of defending themselves from the ills of life, but there is perfect rest only in heaven. Men seek for pleasure, but earthly joys are short and unsatisfactory; the pleasures at God's right hand are for ever sure. Men seek for honor, but the real honor comes from God alone. And these are within the reach of each one of you. When Father Thomas of Jesus, was dying in captivity, his friends came around his bedside, and expressed their regret that he should die, away from his home, and their hope that the King of Spain would even yet ransom him; but the holy man replied: "I have a better country than Spain, and the ransom has long been paid. That country is heaven, that ransom is the blood of Christ." The Holy Church says: "When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death, thou didst open the kingdom of heaven to all believers." Yes! by the blood of Christ, by the sacrament of baptism, the gates of heaven are opened before us. The path is straight and plain. If by sin we have strayed from it, by penance we have been recalled to it, and now there is nothing to do but to advance and persevere, and heaven is ours. {262} Will you draw back, Christian? Will you, by mortal sin, throw away that immortal crown? No drunkard or adulterer, nothing that is defiled, can enter there. There is only one road that leads to heaven--the road of Christian obedience. Will you renounce your birthright? Will you, by sin, take the course that leads you away from your heavenly home? "Oh!" I hear you say, "I will choose heaven." But, remember, heaven is to be won. "Heaven," says St. Philip Neri, "is not for the slothful and cowardly." Strive then, henceforth, for the rewards that are at God's right hand. Strive to attain abundant merits for eternity. Remember that he that soweth sparingly shall reap sparingly, and he that soweth plentifully shall reap plentifully. God is not unmindful of your works and labor that proceedeth from love. Things so small as not to be taken notice of, things that happen every day, add a new glory to our mansions in heaven. With this aim, then, let us henceforth work. "Oh, happy I," says St. Augustine, "and thrice happy, if, after the dissolution of the body, I shall merit to hear the songs that are sung in praise of the Eternal King, by the inhabitants of the celestial city!" Happy I, if I myself shall merit to sing those strains, and to stand before my Lord and King, and to see Him in His glory, as he promised! "He that loveth me shall be loved by my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him." "How amiable are thy tabernacles, Thou Lord of Hosts! My soul hath a desire and a longing to enter into the courts of the Lord." Grant me this, O Lord. Give and withhold what Thou wilt. I do not ask length of days. I do not ask for earthly honor and prosperity. I do not ask to be free from care, or labor, or suffering. But this I do ask, O Lord: when this life is over, shut not up my soul in hell, but let me look on Thy face in the land of the living. Make me so to pass through things temporal that I lose not the things eternal. {263} Hail, Heavenly Queen! our life, our sweetness, and our hope! to Thee do we cry, poor, exiled children of Eve. Oh, then, from Thy throne in heaven, lift upon us, who are struggling in this world, those merciful eyes of Thine! and when this our exile is over, show us the blessed fruit of Thy womb, JESUS! Note.--This was the last Sunday-Sermon which F. Baker preached, two weeks before he was seized with his last illness. -------------------- Sermon V. The Duty Of Growing In Christian Knowledge. (First Sunday in Advent.) "The first man knew not wisdom perfectly, no more shall the last find her out. For her thoughts are vaster than the sea, and her counsels deeper than the great ocean." --Eccles. XXIV. 38, 39. I think we Catholics, when we lay claim to the possession of the whole truth--the entire revelation imparted to the world from Christ through the apostles--sometimes forget how small a share of that truth each one of us possesses in particular. It is the Church that the Holy Ghost leads into all truth, not individuals. Each Catholic, who is sufficiently instructed, knows some truth; he knows what is necessary to salvation; but there are many things which he is totally ignorant of, many things concerning which his conceptions are inadequate or distorted. Now if this be so, it cannot but be useful to remember it, and I will, therefore, this morning, show you how it must be so, and some of the consequences which flow from it. {264} Each one's knowledge of truth must be more or less partial and incomplete, because it varies with each one's capacity for receiving truth. When God gave man reason, He conferred on him the faculty of receiving truth; but the degree in which this or that man is capable of receiving truth, depends upon the strength and cultivation of his particular reason. The eye is the organ of sight, but one man's eye is stronger and truer than another's. Slight variations of color or form, wholly indistinguishable by one man, are detected in a moment by another. So, one man's reason is stronger than another's. What makes the difference, is, of course, in part the diversity in natural endowments, but it is not altogether due to this cause; it is due in great measure also to cultivation. Moral dispositions, too, have a great deal to do with it; and in the case of Christian truth, the grace of God also exerts a special influence. The degrees in which these various elements are found in particular cases, are so different, that there is an almost infinite gradation in the measure in which men are capable of receiving truth. No two men can receive it in exactly the same degree. In all this congregation, where we recite the same Creed and use the same prayers, there are, perhaps, no two of us who mean by them precisely the same thing. The intelligence of each one, his past history, his moral dispositions, will determine how far the faith that is in him corresponds to the faith that is without him--the faith as it is in itself, the object of faith as it is in God. I can make what I mean plain to you by an illustration. Let us suppose a beautiful picture of the crucifixion, for instance, [is] put up in a public gallery. Men of every kind enter and pass before it. There comes a man who has never heard of Christ; he is ignorant and uneducated. He looks up and sees the representation of extremest human agony, mingled with superhuman dignity and patience. Some ray enters his mind; he pauses, is startled then passes on. Now there comes another, who is an anatomist, and he is arrested by the skill with which the body is proportioned, and the play of the muscles and nerves is exhibited. Every line is a study to him, and he stops a good deal longer than the first. {265} Then there comes an artist, and he sees in the picture something greater even. He takes in the genius of the conception, the fitness of attitude and expression, the light and shade, the tints of color, the difficulties overcome by art; and he comes and sits before it, day after day, for hours, absorbed in the study of its beauties. And another comes who is a poet, and to him it brings back the scene of Calvary. In a moment he is far away, and the sun is darkened, and the earth quakes, and there are thunderings and lightnings, and once more the Holy City pours forth its multitude to witness the death of Jesus. And then there comes a sinner. Ah! that story of love and suffering! which tells how God so loved the world, and gave His only-begotten Son, that all who believe in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. To him, that picture speaks of the horrors of sin, of mercy, of heaven and hell, and thoughts are awakened by it which lead him back to God. There hangs the picture, unaltered. It is just what the artist made it, neither more nor less, yet see how different it has been to different beholders. Now, just so it is with the preaching of the truth. As we recite the Creed, as we preach to you, Sunday after Sunday, the Creed itself is indeed unchangeable, but it is a different thing to each one of us who preach, and to each one of you who hear, according to your intelligence, your past history, and your present dispositions. How can it be otherwise? Does not the very word, God, mean something different to us from what it does to a saint? Do not the words Presence of God, mean something different to you and me from what they did to St. Teresa, to whom the soul of man appeared as a castle with seven chambers, each one more sacred than the others, as you advanced into the interior, until the innermost shrine was reached, where God and the soul were joined together in a manner which human language knows not how to utter? {266} Do you not see that the doctrine of the Incarnation is something very different to us from what it was to St. Athanasius, who spent his whole life in conflict for it, who endured years of exile and calumny, the estrangement of friends, the suspicion even of good men, rather than falter the least in fidelity to that verity on which his soul had fed? Or the Real Presence--is that not a different thing to the crowd who come to church and kneel from custom, but hardly remember why, from what it was to St. Thomas, who composed in honor of it the wonderful hymns _Pange Lingua_ and _Lauda Sion_, or to St. Francis Xavier, who spent nights in prayer, prostrate upon the platform of the altar? Why, St. Thomas, who has so written of the Christian faith that the Church has named him the angelical doctor, threw down his pen in hopelessness of being able to express the high knowledge of divine things which filled his soul. And St. Paul confesses, in writing to the Hebrews, that even in that primitive community, taught by apostles and living in a perpetual call to martyrdom, there were some points of Christian truth which he found himself unable to utter, "because you are become weak to hear." [Footnote 30] [Footnote 30: Heb. v. 11.] I know that you are Catholics, that you have the Apostles' Creed by heart, that you believe in one God in Three Persons, in the Incarnation and Death of the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, and in the two eternities before us; but neither you nor I know what all this implies. Our knowledge is very imperfect: we are but babes in Christ, lisping and stammering the Divine alphabet--children, wetting our feet in the waves which dash on the shore of the boundless ocean of truth. It is good for us, as I have already said, to remember this, for it gives us at once the true method of forming an estimate of Christianity. A tree is known by its fruit, but it is by its best fruit. {267} If you have a tree in your garden bearing only a small quantity of very delicious fruit, you prize it highly and take great care of it, though many of the blossoms fall off, and a great deal of the fruit never ripens. So you must judge of the Catholic Church, by its best and most perfect fruit, that is, by the men of great wisdom and great virtue whom it produces, and not by its imperfect members. Who is likely to be the best exponent and the truest specimen of his religion, a man of prayer and study, deeply versed in the Holy Scriptures and sacred learning, or one of small capacity, little learning, and little prayer? Evidently, the former; and yet how often do men take the contrary way of judging of the teaching and spirit of the Church. They visit some Catholic country, they see some instance of popular error, ignorance, or disorder, and they say: "This is Catholicity." Or, at home, they see or hear a Catholic do or say something which gives them offence, and they exclaim: "That is your doctrine!" "That is your religion!" Now, supposing the offence they take to be justly taken, which is not always the case, what does it prove? It may prove that the rulers of the Church have not done their duty; but it may prove just the contrary, that they have done their duty-that in spite of the obstacles of ignorance and rudeness, they have succeeded in imparting to some darkened souls enough knowledge to lead them to God, though it be the very least that is sufficient for that purpose. But it does not show what the doctrine of the Church really is as intelligently understood. To find out this, you must look at men who are in the most favorable circumstances for understanding it, and they are the saints of God: St. Basil, St. Augustine, St. Francis of Sales, St. Teresa. St. Vincent of Paul. O my brethren! how can men turn away from Catholicity? I understand how they can turn away from it as you and I express it; how we can fail to remove their difficulties, or even put new perplexity in their way. But how can they turn away from Catholicity as it is expressed by the great saints of the Church? {268 } What a divine religion! What majesty, what sweetness, what wisdom, what power! How it commands the homage of the world! What a universal testimony it has in its favor, after all! Do you know, my brethren, I believe men are far more in favor of Catholicity than we suspect. I believe half the difficulties they find in our religion are not in our religion at all, but in us; in our ignorance, in our prejudices, in our short-sightedness and narrow-heartedness. What renders the world without excuse is the line of saints, the true witnesses to the genius and spirit of the Catholic religion. And yet, even the saints themselves are not the perfect exponents of the faith, for even the saints were not altogether free from ignorance and error. To understand fully the nobleness of the Christian faith, we should need the help of inspiration itself. Did it never occur to you, my brethren, that the expressions of the prophets and apostles in reference to the light and grace brought by Jesus Christ into the world, were extravagant? "_Behold, I will lay thy stones in order, and will lay thy foundations with sapphires, and I will make thy bulwarks of jasper: and thy gates of graven stones, and all thy borders if desirable stones. All thy children shall be taught of the Lord: and great shall be the peace of thy children." "Thou shalt no more have the sun for thy light by day, neither shall the brightness of the moon enlighten thee: but the Lord shall be unto thee for an everlasting light, and thy God for thy glory_." [Footnote 31] [Footnote 31: Isaiah liv. 11-13; lx. 19.] Does the Catholic Church, as you understand it, come up to these descriptions? Is Catholic truth, as you appropriate it, so high and glorious a thing as this? No! And the reason is, that you are straitened in yourselves. Your conceptions are so low, your knowledge of the truth is so partial and limited that you do not recognize the description when the Holy Ghost presents that truth as it is in itself, as it is seen and known by God. {269} This thought leads us naturally to another; namely, that it is the duty of each one of us to extend his knowledge of Christian truth as far as possible. There is a story told of a foreign gentleman visiting Rome, who went one day to St. Peter's Church, and, after entering the vestibule, admired its noble proportions, and returned home fully satisfied that he had seen the church itself, which he had not even entered. So it is with many persons who never pass beyond the vestibule of Christian knowledge. They never enter the inner temple, or catch even a glimpse of its vast heights and its dim distances, its receding aisles, its intricate archings, its glory, its richness, and its mystery. O misery of ignorance! which has ever been the heaviest curse of our race. O Morning Star, harbinger of eternal truth, and Sun of Justice, when wilt thou come to enlighten those that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death! Alas! this is our grief, that the true Light is come into the world, but our eyes are holden that we cannot see it. Truths, the thought of which rapt the apostles into ecstasy, truths which the angels desire to look into, are published in our hearing, and awaken no aspiration, no stirring in our hearts. We go away, to eat and drink, and work, and play. O brethren! burst for yourselves these bonds of ignorance. Do not say, I am not learned, I am not acute or profound, I cannot hope to understand much. Remember that there were some servants to whom one talent was given, who were called to account as well as those who had ten. Do what you can. A pure heart, a blameless life, and prayer, are great enlighteners. Read, listen, meditate, obey. Ask of God to enlarge your knowledge, and to teach you what it means to say you believe in Him. Ask of Jesus Christ to teach you what it means to say that He was made man and died for us on the cross; what it is to receive His body and blood; what is the meaning of heaven and hell. {270} Awake thou that sleepest, and Christ shall give thee light! He will make you understand more and more what it is to be a Christian. Often have I seen the fulfilment of this promise. I have been at the bedside of poor people, who would be called rude and illiterate, but to whose pure hearts and earnest prayers God had imparted so clear a knowledge of the faith, that I have felt in their humble rooms like Jacob when he awoke from sleep and said: "Indeed the Lord is in this place." [Footnote 32] [Footnote 32: Gen. xxviii. 16.] Men are talking about a Church of the future. They say the old Church is decrepid, her theology is obsolete, she stimulates thought no more. But we know better. The Church of the future is the Church of the past. That Church is ever ancient and ever new. Her truth is not exhausted. Men know not the half nor the hundredth part of her hidden wisdom. O the victory! when men shall understand this--when they shall come confessing to the Holy Church, as the Queen of Saba did to Solomon: "_The report is true, which I heard in my own country, concerning thy words and concerning thy wisdom. And I did not believe them that told me, till I came myself and saw with my own eyes, and have found that the half hath not been told me; thy wisdom and thy works exceed the fame which I heard. Blessed are thy men, and blessed are thy servants who stand before thee always, and hear thy wisdom_." [Footnote 33] [Footnote 33: III. Ki. x. 6-8.] Yes! the history of the Church is not accomplished, her triumphs are not yet all written. Why does she, Advent after Advent, publish again the glowing predictions of the evangelical prophet, but because she knows that they await a still more magnificent fulfilment? Take courage--the cloud that rests on the people shall be lifted off, and the burden taken away. The Ancient Church "shall no more be called forsaken, nor her land desolate." [Footnote 34] [Footnote 34: Is. lxii. 4.] {271} "_Arise, be enlightened, O Jerusalem: for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall walk in thy light, and kings in the brightness of thy rising. Then shalt thou see and abound, and thy heart shall wonder and be enlarged. And the children of them that afflict thee shall come bowing down to thee, and all that slandered thee shall worship the steps of thy feet, and shall call thee the city of the Lord, the Sion of the Holy One of Israel_." [Footnote 35] [Footnote 35: Isai. lx. 1-14.] -------------------- Sermon VI. The Mission Of St. John the Baptist. (Second Sunday In Advent.) "This is he of whom it is written: Behold I send My messenger before Thy face, who shall prepare Thy way before Thee." --St. Matt. xi. 10. The Scriptures of the Old Testament had foretold that a special messenger should immediately precede the coming of the Messias, whose duty would be to prepare men's hearts for His reception. Now, our Lord in the text tells us that St. John the Baptist was this messenger. It is for this reason that the Gospels read in the Church for the season of Advent are so full of the sayings and doings of this saint. In Advent the Church desires to prepare us for the twofold coming of Christ--at His Nativity and at the Last Judgment; and it is natural that she should avail herself of the labors of one who was divinely appointed for the same purpose. Accordingly, from Sunday to Sunday, during this season, she bring St. John the Baptist from his cell in the desert, clad in his rough garment, to preach to us Christians the same lessons he preached to the Jewish people centuries ago. {272} It has seemed to me, then, that I could not better subserve the intentions of the Church, than by considering this morning in what the mission of St. John the Baptist as a preparation for Christ's coming specially consisted, and what practical lessons it suggests to us. St. John the Baptist was of the priestly race, yet he never exercised the office of a priest. He was not a prophet, at least in the sense of one who foretells future events. He worked no miracles. He had no ecclesiastical position. What was he then? What was his office? How did he prepare men for the coming of Christ? The Scriptures tell us what he was. He was a "_Voice_" and a "_Cry_"--the cry of conscience, the voice of man's immortal destiny. His mission was simple, elementary, and universal. It went deeper than ecclesiastical or ritual duties. It touched human probation to the very quick. He dealt with the great question of salvation, protested vehemently against sin, and published aloud that law of sanctity which is written on every man's heart by the finger of God. We have some remains of his sermons, from which we can learn his style. "_Begin not to say_," so he speaks to the Jews, "_we have Abraham to our father, for God is able to raise up of these stones children to Abraham_." [Footnote 36] [Footnote 36: St. Luke iii. 8.] See, how he sweeps away external privileges, and goes straight to every man's conscience. "_The axe is laid now to the root of the trees, and every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit shall be cut down and cast into the fire_." Nothing but what is internal, nothing but what is sound at the core, can bear the scrutiny. He descends to the particulars of each man's state and condition of life. The people came to him and asked him, "What shall we do?" And he said: "_He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat let him do likewise_." {273} That was a short and pithy sermon! Then the officers of the custom came and asked: "What shall _we_ do? And he answered: "_Take nothing more than that which is appointed you_." Do not rob or swindle. Do not use bribery or extortion. And the soldiers asked him, saying: "And what shall _we_ do?" And he said: "_Do violence to no man: neither calumniate any man; and be content with your pay_." Such was the preaching of St. John the Baptist, pointed, direct, homely, practical: an echo of that trumpet-blast which once shook the earth, when God gave the Ten Commandments out of the Mount. And it did its work. Our Lord himself has testified to the success of St. John's mission. It prepared men to believe in Christ. It was the school which trained disciples for Christianity. They that believed in St. John believed afterwards in Christ. On one occasion the evangelist gives it as the explanation why some believed and some rejected the words of Jesus, that they had first believed or rejected the words of the Baptist. "_All the people_," such is the language I refer to, "_justified God, being baptized with, the baptism of John, but the Pharisees and the lawyers despised the counsel of God against themselves, being not baptized of him_." [Footnote 37] [Footnote 37: St. Luke vii. 29, 30.] Nor is it difficult to explain how his preaching effected this result. Christ came to save sinners. In point of fact, we know that this is the reason why He has come into the world. He has come to seek and save that which was lost. He has come to heal the broken-hearted. He has come to give us a new law, higher and holier than the old, yet easier by the brightness of His example, and the graces He imparts. Now, unless a man feels the evil of sin, unless he wants to keep the law, unless he feels an interest, and a deep interest, in the question of his destiny, he does not care for Christ. {274} True, our Lord has given to the understanding proofs of His divine mission, so that belief in Him may be a reasonable act; but until the conscience is stirred up, the understanding has no motive for considering these proofs. To the carnal and careless Jews, the announcement of Christ's coming was, I suppose, simply uninteresting. In some points of view, indeed, they might have welcomed Him. As a temporal prince and deliverer, His advent would have been hailed by them, but salvation from sin was a matter in which they felt no great concern. What did they want with Christ? Why does He come at all to consciences which do not crave rest, and wills that need no strength? What need of a Saviour, if there is no sin to be shunned, no hell to be feared, no heaven to be won, no great struggle between good and evil, no eternity in peril? But once let all this be fully understood. Let a man's conscience be fully awakened. Let him realize his destiny, above and beyond this world; let him appreciate the evil of sin that defeats his destiny; let him, if the case be so, perceive how far out of the way he has gone by his sins; and then how full of interest, how full of meaning, becomes the exclamation of St. John, as he points to Christ and says: "_Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world!_" Let a man's spiritual nature be stirred within him; let him aspire to what is pure and high; aim at regulating his passions; struggle, amid inordinate desires and the importunities of creatures which encompass him like a flood, toward the highest good and the most perfect beauty; and, oh! with what music do these words of Christ fall on his soul: "_Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you. Take my yoke upon you and learn of Me, and you shall find rest to your souls. For My yoke is sweet, and My burden is light._" [Footnote 38] [Footnote 38: St. Matt. xi. 29, 30.] {275} It seems too good to be true. He listens, and asks, "May I believe this?" "Is there really a way through this world to heaven? a sure, clear, easy way?" He finds that his understanding not only allows, but compels him to believe in Christ: he is happy; he believes; his faith is a conviction into which his whole nature enters; it entwines itself with every fibre of his soul. The connection, then, between the preaching of the Baptist and the coming of Christ was not a temporary one. It is essential and necessary. St. John is still the forerunner of Christ. The preaching of the commandments is ever the preparation for faith. The awakening of a man's conscience is the measure of his appreciation of Christ. Our Lord gives many graces to men without their own co-operation. Many of the gifts of Providence, and the first gifts in the order of grace, are so bestowed. But an enlightened appreciation of Christianity, a personal conviction of its truth, a real and deep attachment to it, will be always in proportion to the thoroughness with which a man has sounded the depths of his own heart, to the sincerity with which sin is hated and feared, and holiness aspired after. Christ is never firmly seated in the soul of man till he is enthroned on the conscience. "_Unto you that fear My name, shall the Sun of Justice arise, and health in his wings_." [Footnote 39] [Footnote 39: St. Matt. iv. 2.] And, here, my brethren, in this law or fact which I stated, we have the key to several practical questions of great importance. {276} Here we have, in great part at least, an explanation why conversions to the Catholic Church are not more frequent than they are. Surely the Catholic Church is prominent enough in the eyes of men. From her church towers she cries aloud. In the streets, at the opening of her gates, she utters her word, saying: "_O children of men, how long will you love folly, and the unwise hate knowledge? Turn ye at my reproof_." Her antiquity, her unity, her universality, the sanctity of so many of her children, are enough to arrest the attention of every thoughtful man. But how few heed her voice! True, here and there, there are souls who recognise in her the true teacher sent by Christ, the guide of their souls, and submit themselves to her safe and holy keeping. Altogether, they make a goodly company; but how small in proportion to those who are left behind! It reminds us of the words of the prophet: "_I will take one of a city, and two of a family and bring you into Sion_." [Footnote 40] [Footnote 40: Jer. iii. 14.] They come by ones and twos, and the mass remains behind. And what does that mass think of the Catholic Church? Some are entirely ignorant of her, almost as though she did not exist. Some have wrong ideas about her, and hate her. Some know a good deal about her doctrines, and are conversant with the proofs of them, and argue about them, and criticise them. Some are favorably inclined to her. Some patronise her. It was just so with Christ. To some He was simply unknown, though He was in their midst. To some He was an impostor and a blasphemer. To many He was an occasion of dispute, some affirming Him to be a "good man," others saying, "Nay, He deceiveth the people." To some He was an innovator on the established religion, the religion of the respectable and educated. To others, His mysteries were an offence, and the severity of His doctrine a stumbling-block. Why is this? Why is it always thus? Why are men so slow to be wise, and to be happy? I do not wish, my brethren, to give too sweeping an answer. I know there is such a thing as inculpable ignorance. I believe there are many on their way to the Church who are not suspected of it, and who, perhaps, do not suspect it themselves. I know that God has His seasons of grace and providence. I know that each human mind is different from every other, and has its own law of working, its own way of arriving at conviction. {277} But after all such deductions, are there not very many of whom it is a plain matter of fact to say that they _will_ not give their attention to this subject? They may even have conscious doubts on their minds, and live and die with these unattended to, unresolved. It is a want of religious earnestness. Men do not ask: "What shall I do to be saved?" Or at least, they do not give to that question their supreme attention. They do not grapple with their destiny. They are indifferent to it, or hopeless about its solution. They let themselves float on, leaving the questions of the future to decide themselves as they may, and live in the pleasures and interests of the present. Oh, fatal supineness! unworthy a rational being, defeating the end of our creation, and entailing countless miseries here and hereafter. Nothing can be hoped for from the world, till it awakes from its lethargy of indifference. Men must be men before you can make them Christians--serious, thoughtful earnest men, before you have any reason for expecting them to become Catholics. There is more hope of a conscientious bigot, than for a man indifferent to his salvation. He, at least, is in earnest. If his mind should become enlightened, if he should recognise the Catholic Church as the divinely-appointed guide to that heaven which he is seeking, there is reason to hope that he will avail himself of her blessings. He will not make frivolous objections; he will not stumble at the Sacrament of Confession, or catch at every scandalous story of immorality on the part of a Catholic, or quarrel with every minute ritual arrangement; but in a better, higher, nobler spirit, in that spirit of obedience which so well becomes a man, in that spirit of faith, in which man's reason asserts most clearly its high character, by uniting itself to and embracing the Reason of God, when he finds that the Church is the guide to his immortal destiny, he "_will come bending to her, and will worship the steps of her feet, and will call her the City of the Lord, the Sion of the Holy One of Israel_." {278} And now, to turn our eyes within the Church, we can in the same way account for those dreadful apostasies from the Catholic faith which are here and there recorded in history. Mahometanism, which in numbers is a rival to Catholicity, possesses some of the fairest lands once owned by Christ. In modern times, one of the most refined and enlightened nations of Christendom, in a moment of frenzy, threw off the faith with which her history had been so adorned, and professed Atheism. Now, how did these things happen? Not of a sudden, or all at once. Men are not changed from Christians into Turks or Infidels in an hour. There must have been some secret moral history, which accounts for this wonderful change. And so there was. Men became lax in their conduct. The Catholicity they practised was not the Catholicity of Christ and the Apostles. Public morals were conformed to the standard of heathenism rather than that of the gospel--nay, sometimes outraged as much the decencies of heathenism as the precepts of Christ. It was the old story. St. John the Baptist imprisoned by an adulterous king; St. John the Baptist, conspired against and murdered by an ambitious queen; the head of St. John the Baptist, eloquent and reproachful even in death, brought in to point the jest and stimulate the revelry of a lascivious feast--this is but a figure of the treatment which conscience has received in Christian courts, and at the hands of Christian princes. Morality and decency grew out of date, and were cast aside like old-fashioned garments, and the restraints of the Law of God were as feeble as cobwebs before the power of passion. Now, what else could be the result of all this, but a disesteem of Christianity itself? True, it might retain some hold upon men's minds for a time. The fact that it was the religion of their ancestors, the fact that they were baptized in it, the beauty of its ceremonies and architecture, the soothing influence of its ordinances, the services it has rendered to civilisation, might keep it standing in its place for a time; but these considerations are not strong enough to withstand the power of hell, when it is exerted in the way of persecution, or a general apostasy. {279} "_Every plant that my Heavenly Father hath not planted, shall be rooted up_," said Christ. [Footnote 41] It must be a supernatural motive that binds us to our faith. Christ and the Law cannot long remain divorced. A people without conscience will soon be a people without faith; and a nation of triflers only waits the occasion, to become a nation of apostates. [Footnote 41: St. Matt. xv. 13.] It is not, then, without a special providence of God, that in these later days the missionary orders of the Church have been multiplied. In the sixteenth century the intellectual defence of the faith was the Church's greatest need, and that was most successfully accomplished. But there is needed something more to uphold the falling fabric of modern society. Men need to be reminded of the first principles of morality. And, therefore, a St. Alphonsus appears in Naples, a St. Vincent of Paul in France; missionary orders in every land go about teaching the people, before it is too late, the very first and fundamental truths--the doctrine of repentance and good works. Here, in every age, and every country, is the real danger to faith. We speak often of the dangers to faith in this country; and unquestionably we have our special trials here. Some of our children are lost by neglect. Some grow cold in the unfriendly atmosphere that surrounds them. But the real danger to be dreaded is, that the love of the Church herself should grow cold; that a wide-spread demoralisation should take place among ourselves; that we should forget the keeping of the Ten Commandments. This, indeed, would be the prelude to our destruction. Practical morality makes a strong Church; but let morality be forgotten, and the Church, while it has a name to live, is dead. {280} And as a corpse long decomposed sometimes retains the human form until it is exposed to the air, when it crumbles into dust; so a dead Church will be blown to atoms and swept away, the first strong blast that hell breathes against it. And, in fine, by the light of the thought which I have been endeavoring to present to you this morning, we see the means by which we ought to make sure our personal union with Christ. Christ is coming. He is coming at Christmas to unite Himself with those whom He shall find prepared. He is coming again, and the mountains shall melt before Him; for He is coming to judge the world. "_Who shall stand to see Him? For He shall be as a Refining Fire, and shall try the Sons of Levi as gold and silver_." [Footnote 42] [Footnote 42: St. Matt. iii. 2, 3.] How shall we abide His coming, my brethren I how shall we prepare to meet Him? I know no other way than that which St. John the Baptist recommended to the Jews--a true and solid conversion. Whether a man has committed mortal sin or not, whether he is born a Catholic or not, there comes upon him, if he is a true Christian, some time in his life, a change which Catholic writers call conversion. It may not be sudden. It may be all but imperceptible. It may be more than once. But at least once, there comes a time when religion becomes a matter of personal conviction with him. He is different from what he was before. A change has passed over him. He has awakened to his moral accountability. His manhood is developed. His conscience is aroused. And until that happens, you cannot count on him. He may seem innocent and pious, but you cannot tell whether it will not be "like the dew that passeth away in the morning." You cannot say how he will act in temptation. You cannot reckon on what he will be next year. Perhaps then he will draw sin "as with a cart-rope." {281} The trouble with such men is not that they sin sometimes. Alas! such is human frailty that a single fall would not dishearten us; but the real misery is, that they have no _principle_ of not sinning. They are not preparing for Christ's judgement. Their contrition, such as it is, is intended to prepare them for confession, not for eternity. See, then, what we want! And this is what I understand by the _penance_ which St. John the Baptist preached. He practised it himself. It is thought that in St. John's case the use of reason was granted before birth; and when as a babe he leaped in his mother's womb, it was for conscious joy at the presence of his Lord and Saviour. And since the Blessed Virgin and St. Elizabeth were cousins, doubtless St. John and our Blessed Saviour knew each other as children. It is more than probable that they used to play together when they were boys, as the painters loved to represent them. And oh! what an effect did the knowledge of Christ have on St. John! It took the color out of earthly beauty, and the music out of earthly joy. There was with him afterward one overpowering desire--the desire of sanctity. He had seen a vision of heaven. Not because he despised the world, but because a higher beauty was opened to his soul, he went into the desert, and his meat was locusts and wild honey. One aim he had: to purify his heart. One thought: to prepare for heaven, and to help others also to prepare. Oh, let us heed his words and example. Let us follow him, if not in the rigor of his fastings, at least in the sincerity of his penance. Be converted, and turn to the Lord your God. There is no other way of preparing for judgment. Remember what the Church says to you at the Font: "If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments." Listen to what God Himself counsels, when prophesying the terrors of the last day: "_Remember the law of Moses, My servant, which I commanded him in Horeb for all Israel, the precepts and judgments_." [Footnote 43] [Footnote 43: St. Matt. iv. 4.] {282} The law commanded in Horeb--that eternal law of right, and justice, and purity, and truth--examine yourself by this standard; forsake every evil way and live a Christian life. Happy are they who do so! Happy and secure shall they be in the evil time. When the earth and heaven shall be shaken, and sea and land give up their dead, and the Son of Man appear in the heavens, and the Throne shall be set for judgment, then look up and lift up your head, for your redemption draweth nigh. You have been true to your conscience; you have believed in Christ; you have kept His law; now to you belongs the promise, "_Then they that feared the Lord spoke every man with his neighbor, and the Lord gave ear, and heard it: and a book of remembrance was written before the Lord for them that fear the Lord, and think on His Name. And they shall be My special possession, saith the Lord of Hosts, in the day that I do judgment: and I will spare them as a man spareth his own son that serveth him_." [Footnote 44] [Footnote 44: St. Matt. iii. 16, 17.] ---------------------- Sermon VII. God's Desire To Be Loved. (Christmas Day.) "Thou art beautiful above the sons of men: grace is poured abroad in Thy lips; therefore hath God blessed Thee forever. Gird Thy sword upon Thy thigh, O Thou most mighty. With Thy comeliness and Thy beauty, set out, proceed prosperously and reign." --Ps. xliv. 3-5. The Church calls on us to-day to rejoice and be glad for the Incarnation of the Son of God. With a celebration peculiar to this Feast, she breaks the dead silence of the night with her first Mass of joy. {283} She repeats it again as the east reddens with the dawn. And still again, when the sun is shining in full day, she offers anew a Mass of thanksgiving for a blessing which can never be sufficiently praised and magnified. I have thought that I could not better attune your hearts to all this gladness and gratitude than by reminding you of one of the motives of the Incarnation. Why did our Lord become man? and why did He become Man in the way He did? I answer, out of His desire to be loved by us. There is a love of benevolence, which is content simply with doing good without asking a return. God has this love for us. Nature and reason tell us so. "_He maketh His sun to rise on the good and the bad, and raineth upon the just and the unjust_." [Footnote 45] [Footnote 45: St. Matt. v. 45.] And there is another love, the love of friendship, which seeks to be united to the object of its love. And the Incarnation shows us that God has this kind of love for man. His love makes us lovable in His eyes, and this again makes Him vehemently desire our love. This will be my subject this morning--the Incarnation, an evidence of God's desire to be loved by us. And, first, observe, that there is no other reason given for the Incarnation which sufficiently accounts for it in all its circumstances. There are several reasons for the Incarnation. It is the doctrine of many Catholic theologians that God would have become man even if man had never sinned; that it was part of His original plan in forming the creature thus to unite it to Himself. Again, it is said that our Lord became Man in order to make satisfaction for sin. And a third reason alleged for His becoming man, is, that He might give us a perfect example. Now all these reasons are true: but neither of them alone, nor all of them together, entirely account for the Incarnation with all its circumstances. Not the first, for even if God had predetermined that His Son should become Man, irrespective of man's transgression, certainly in that case He would not have come poor and sorrowful, as He did. {284} The necessity of a satisfaction for sin accounts indeed for our Lord's sufferings in part, but not altogether; for He suffered far more than was necessary. Besides, it was not necessary for a Divine Person to have suffered for us unless it had pleased God to require a perfect satisfaction, which He was free to demand or dispense with. The desire to give a good example may be suggested as the explanation of our Lord's humiliation; but when we consider a moment, we will see that though a good man really does give a good example, he does very few, if any of his actions, for the mere sake of giving it. There are many things, then, in our Lord's becoming Man, and His life as Man, that need some further reason. What is that reason? It is His great desire to be loved by us. Suppose this, and every thing is clear. I do not mean to say that this account of our Lord's Incarnation makes it any less wonderful--it makes it more so--but it gives a motive for it all. Suppose Him influenced by an intense desire to gain our love, and then we see why He stooped so low, why He did so much more than was necessary, why he was so lavish in condescension--in a word, this is the explanation of what would otherwise seem to be the _excess_ of His love. Then, again, let us consider how our Lord's Incarnation is adapted to win our love. When we see means perfectly adapted to an end, we are apt to conclude that they were chosen in view of that end. Now, our Lord's humiliation is in all its parts wonderfully calculated to attract love. His taking our nature is especially so. There is a wonderful power in blood. To be of kin is a tie that survives all changes and all times. Now, here our Lord makes Himself of kin to us, of the same blood. He is no stranger, before whom we need feel at a great distance, but our relation, of our flesh and blood. {285} And then as Man, He has clothed Himself with every thing that can make Him attractive in the eyes of man. He makes His first appearance in the world as an Infant, a beautiful Babe. How attractive is a beautiful child! Men even of rugged natures are softened by looking at it. A little child brings a flood of grace and light into a house. Now, to-day, the Son of God is a Babe at Bethlehem. He has the beauty of infancy, but there is also a superadded beauty, a light playing on His features that is not of earth, the light of Infinite Wisdom and Eternal Love. See, He looks around and smiles, and stretches out His hands, as if inviting us to caress Him. In many children this beauty of infancy is evanescent, but in our Lord it was the earnest of a grace and loveliness that followed Him through life. It is evident that there was something most attractive about our Lord to those who approached Him. As He grew in stature He increased in favor, not only with God but with men. When He had attained to manhood, He was such a one that children willingly gathered around Him in the streets, and people stopped to look at Him as He passed, and men's minds were strangely stirred in them as He spoke, and the thought came into women's hearts, "How happy to be the mother of such a Son!" Who but He knew how perfectly to mingle dignity with familiarity, zeal with serenity, and austerity with compassion? Even at the distance of time that we are from His earthly life, His words reach us like the sweetest music. What other preacher can say the same words again and again, and never make us weary? Whose tones are there that linger in our ears like His, and come like a spell to our hearts in times of temptation and sorrow? Why, even scoffers have acknowledged this. The beauty and excellence of our Saviour's character have wrung a eulogium from a celebrated opponent of Christianity, and at least a momentary confession that its author was Divine. {286} Then, to the attractions of His character, our Lord has added the destitution of His circumstances, in order to gain our love. It is natural for us to love any thing that is dependent on us. The sick child that needs to be nursed, the helpless and depressed, the poor that appeal to us, even the bird and the dog that look to us for their food, come to have a place in our hearts. Now, our Lord, at least even in this way to win us, has placed Himself in a state of complete dependence on us. From the cradle to the grave, and even beyond the grave, He appeals to man for the supply of every want. Think what it might have been. Think of the twelve legions of angels that are impatient to come and minister to Him. But no! He restrains them. For his swathing-bands, He will be a debtor to Mary's care. For a habitation, He will put up with the stall of the ox and the ass. The manger from which the cattle are fed shall be His cradle. St. Joseph shall bear the expenses of his early years; and when St. Joseph is gone, and He has begun His ministry of preaching, Joanna and the other holy women shall minister to Him of their substance. And at last, Magdalene shall anoint His body for burial, and Joseph of Arimathea shall give Him a winding-sheet and a grave. I said He carried His poverty beyond the grave. And so He does. For His churches, for the glory of His altars, for His priests, for His sacraments, even for the bread and wine which shall serve as veils for His presence, He depends on us, that out of love we may minister to Him, and by ministering may love Him better. And, further: while on the one hand our Lord thus appeals to our affections by the poverty of His condition, on the other He compels our love by the greatness of His sacrifices for us. In His Sermon on the Mount, He bids us, "If any man force us to go with him a mile, to go with him other two;" [Footnote 46] and certainly it has been by this rule that He has acted toward us. [Footnote 46: St. Matt. v. 41.] {287} I have already said our Lord has done far more than was necessary to redeem us. Why, in strictness of justice, He had ransomed us before He was born. The very first act of love He made to His Father, after His conception, was enough to redeem countless worlds. But He did not then go back to His Father. He staid on earth to do more for us. He would not leave any thing undone that could be done. He would not leave a single member of His body, a single power of His soul, that was not turned into a sacrifice for us. No doubt, if, at the birth of any child, we could foresee all it would have to suffer during its life, there would be enough to mingle sadness with our joy. But this child was preeminently a child of sorrow; and Simeon, when he took Him up in his arms, foresaw that the sad future would break His mother's heart. Yes, that little Child is the willing victim of our sins. On that little head the crown of thorns shall be placed. Those tiny hands shall be pierced with nails. Those eyes shall weep. Those ears shall be filled with reproach and blasphemy. That smooth cheek be spit upon. That mouth be filled with vinegar and gall. And why was all this? He Himself has told us: "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all things to Myself:" [Footnote 47] That was the hope that urged Him on. That was the key to His whole life. It was all an effort, a struggle, to gain our love. [Footnote 47: St. John xii. 32.] And, once more: the _effect_ of the Incarnation has been love. We read God's purposes in their fulfilment. We see what our Lord intended in His humiliation, by looking at what it has produced. There is no doubt that the love of God has been far more general among men, and far more tender, since the Incarnation. {288} Only compare St. Antony of Padua, fondling the Infant Jesus, with Elias, covering his face with his mantle before the Lord in the cave at Horeb. Compare the book of Job with the epistles of St. Paul or St. John. God is in both books; but the Prophet sees Him through a glass darkly: the Apostles "have seen and handled the Word of Life." One of the most beautiful passages in the Old Testament, and one which approaches the nearest to the New, is the history of the martyrdom of the seven sons with their Mother in the time of Judas Machabæus. But how this story pales before the Acts of the Christian Martyrs! In these Jewish heroes we see, indeed, faith in God, and remembrance of His promises, and hope in the Resurrection; but how different is this from the glowing language of an Ignatius, who claimed to carry Christ within him; or of an Agnes, who claimed to be the Spouse of Christ, whom He had betrothed with a ring, and adorned with bridal jewels! Nor is it only in highly spiritual people, or highly gifted people of any kind, that we see this Christian, personal love of God. The poor, the dull, the ignorant cannot understand the abstract arguments about God, but they can understand a crucifix, they know the meaning of Bethlehem and Calvary. And many an old woman, who knows little more, has learned enough to make her happy, in the thought that "_God so loved the world as to give His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him may not perish, but may have life everlasting_." [Footnote 48] [Footnote 48: St. John iii. 16.] Then there are children; some people complain that they find it very hard to interest them in religion. I will tell you how to succeed. Tell them the story of Joseph and Mary, and the Babe lying in a manger. Tell them about the shepherds that were watching their flocks by night, and the angels that came and talked to them. {289} Tell them about the garden in which Jesus was betrayed, and the cross on which he died, and you will see their little eyes open wide with interest. I knew a boy who, when he read the story of Peter's denial of our Lord, got up from his seat, and, with tears in his eyes, exclaimed, "Oh, mother, what made Peter do that!" And I have heard of a little boy who, when he was dying, called his mother to his side, and told her that he had kept all the money she had given him, in a little box, and when he was dead he wanted her to take it and buy a coat for the Infant Jesus. I know it was a strange, childish conceit; but it showed that our Saviour had found His way to that little boy's heart; and sure I am that when, in Paradise, he stood before the bright throne of Christ, and heard from those divine lips the praise of his short life, that legacy was not forgotten. Yes; our Lord has found out the way to win hearts. He has succeeded. The issue proves the wisdom of his plan. As heaven fills up with saints flaming with love, He says, "Whence are these? and who hath begotten them?" Then He remembers that they are the fruit of the travail of His soul, that they were born to Him at Bethlehem and Calvary, and He "is satisfied." The truth is, we are not so sensible of this effect of the Incarnation, because we are so familiar with it. We hardly realize how meagre men's notions about God naturally are. Of course, we know by reason the existence of God, and many of His attributes; but without revelation, these are very indistinct. We know that He is great and good and beautiful; but still there is a gulf between us and Him. Partly, no doubt, this arises from our sense of guilt. We fear God, because we have offended Him. But there is a dread of God, and a sense of distance from Him, that does not come from guilt. The most innocent feel it the keenest. I know not why, but we dread Him because He is so spiritual. He is so strange and mysterious. {290} We cannot think what He is like. We lose ourselves when we try to think of Him. There are so many things in the world that frighten us. We do not know how God feels toward us. We have a diffidence in approaching Him which we cannot shake off. Now, all the while, God is full of the most wonderful love to man. Heaven is not enough for Him. Even with the angels, it is a wilderness because man is absent. At last He resolves what He will do. He will lay aside altogether that majesty which affrights man so much. "The distance is too great," He says, "between Me and My creatures. I Myself will become a creature. Man flies from Me. I will become Man. Every thing loves its kind. I will make Myself like him. 'I will draw him with the cords of Adam, with the bands of love.' [Footnote 49] [Footnote 49: Osee xi. 4.] I will tell him how the case stands--that I love him and desire his love. I will tell him to love Me, not for his sake, but Mine; and when I have made him understand this--when I have gained his love; when I have healed his wound and made him happy--then I will come back, and call on all the angels of heaven, and say, 'Rejoice with Me, for I have found the sheep that I had lost.'" Such is the enterprise that our Lord enters on to-day. He comes to tell you how He loves you, and how He desires your love. "Behold, I bring to you glad tidings of great joy, and this shall be the sign to you: you shall find the Infant wrapped in swaddling-clothes, and laid in a manger." It is a sign of Humanity. It is a sign of Beauty. It is a sign of Humility. It is a sign of Love. He speaks to you, not in words, but in actions. The cold wind whistles in His cavern, but He will not have it otherwise. David said: "_I will not enter into the tabernacle of my home: I will not go up into my bed. I will not give sleep to my eyes, or slumber to my eyelids, or rest to my temples, until I find out a place for the Lord, a tabernacle for the God of Jacob_." [Footnote 50] [Footnote 50: Isai. cxxxi. 3-5.] {291} So the new-born Saviour will not take any comfort till He has got your love. He is waiting in the manger, and until you come and take Him home, He will accept no other. The palaces of the world, and all the jewels and the gold are His, but He will have none of them. He wants to abide in your lowly house, and in your poor heart. His head is full of dew, and His locks of the drops of the night, and He knocks for you to open to Him. Oh, to-day, I do not envy those who will not receive Him. I do not envy those who are wandering about in error, and know not the true Bethlehem, the _House of Bread_, the Holy Church of God. I do not envy the disobedient Christian. I do not envy the indifferent man, for whom Christ is born in vain. But I praise those who make it their first care to keep themselves united to Jesus Christ. And most of all, I praise those who strive to maintain a holy familiarity with Jesus Christ; who by prayer, by communion, by self-denial, by generous obedience, return their Saviour love for love. O my brethren, why do we grovel on earth, when we might have our conversation in heaven? Why do we set our hearts on creatures, when we might have the Creator for our friend? Why do we follow the Evil One, when He that is beautiful above the sons of men is our Master and our Lord? Why are we so weak in temptation, so despairing in trial, when we might have the peace and joy of the children of God? What more can we want? God has given us the Only-begotten Son, the Mighty God, the Wonderful Counsellor, the Prince of Peace; and how shall He not with Him freely give us all things? All we want is to recognize our happiness. When Jacob woke from sleep, he said: "The Lord is in this place, and I knew it not." So we do not realize how near God is to us. What is the sound that reaches us to-day? It is the voice of the Beloved, calling to us: "My love, My spouse, My undefiled!" Yes, my Lord, I answer to Thy call. I enter to-day into the school of Thy Holy Love. {292 } I make now the resolution that "_henceforth neither life nor death, nor height nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord_." [Footnote 51] [Footnote 51: Romans viii. 39.] ---------------------- Sermon VIII. The Failure And Success Of The Gospel. (Sexagesima.) "Saying these things he cried out: He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." St. Luke VIII. 8. There is one measure by which, if our Lord's work were tried, it might be pronounced a failure; and that is by the measure of great immediate, visible results. The thought might come into our mind, that it is strange our Lord was not more successful than He was. He was the Son of God, no one ever spake as He did. He conversed with a great number of men--in Jerusalem, in Judea, in Galilee. He was always going about from place to place. He died in the sight of a whole city. Yet what was the result of all? On the Day of Pentecost, His disciples were gathered together in the upper chamber, and they numbered, all told, one hundred and twenty. So it is, likewise, with the Church. After all, what has she done? Put her numbers at the highest. Say she has two hundred millions of souls in her communion. What are they to the eight hundred millions that inhabit the globe. [Footnote 52] [Footnote 52: Recent estimates of the population of the globe vary from 840,000,000, to 1,300,000,000, and of the number of Catholics from 160,000,000 to 208,000,000. Other Christians are about 130,000,000.] {293} And how many of her members are there who can be called Catholics or Christians, only in a broad, external sense! Has Christianity, then, accomplished the results that might have been looked for? Is it not a failure? I will attempt this morning to give some reasons showing that Christianity is not a failure, although it has accomplished only partial results. And the first remark I make is this: that partial results belong to every thing human. Although Christianity is a divine religion, by coming into the world it became subject in many respects to the laws that govern human things. To specify one, Christianity demands _attention_. "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." Without attention, Christianity will never produce its impression on our conduct. Now, attention is a thing hard to get from men. It is one of the greatest wants in the world, the want of attention. "_With desolation is all the land made desolate_," says the Holy Scripture, "_because there is none that considereth in the heart_." [Footnote 53] [Footnote 53: Jer. xii. 11.] We see examples of this on every side. Take the instance of young men at college. After passing several years there, at a considerable expense to their parents, professedly for the sake of acquiring an education, a certain number of them know nothing but the names of the things they have been studying. This is the entire result of all they have heard or read, an acquisition of some of the terms made use of in science. Others have gained some confused and partial knowledge, which for practical purposes is all but useless; while those who have acquired precise, accurate, useful information, that is, who have gained any real science, are few indeed. It is the same in business. Every trade and profession is crowded with bunglers who do not know their own business, because they have been too lazy to learn it, and who grumble at the success of others who have not spared the pains necessary to become masters. {294} So also it is in politics. We hear a great deal about the general diffusion of intelligence in this country, and are told how the sovereign people watch the actions of public men and call them to account. Now, I suppose there is more wide-spread information on public matters in this country than in any other in the world, but what does it amount to after all? A great many read the newspapers without passing any independent judgment on their statements, while those who really shape political opinions and action are but a small clique in each locality. This being so, it ought not to surprise us that men give but little attention to religion. If learning, business, politics, things that touch our present interests so closely, can only to a superficial extent engage the thoughts of men, will religion, which relates chiefly to man's future welfare, be more successful? In one sense, Christianity is as old as the world; for there has been a continuous testimony to the truth from the first, but it has never yet had a full hearing. How do men act about religion? Some listen to its teaching only with their ears, as a busy man in his office listens to a jew's-harp or a band-organ on the street. So Gallio listened, who "cared for none of these things." Some listen with their hearts, that is, with attention enough to awaken a passing emotion or sentiment. So Felix listened, when he trembled at St. Paul's preaching, and promised to hear him again at a more convenient season. Only a few listen with attentive ears and hearts and hands, the only true way of listening, the way St. Paul listened, when he said, "_Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?_" [Footnote 54] [Footnote 54: Acts ix. 6.] When you say, then, that Christianity has produced but partial results, you are but saying that men are frivolous and thoughtless, that there are many who do not listen to religion, or do not listen to it with earnestness and lay to heart its practical lessons. "_Wisdom preacheth abroad; she uttereth her voice in the streets; at the head of multitudes she crieth out;_" but it is of no avail to the greater number, "_because they have hated instruction, and received not the fear if the Lord_." [Footnote 55] [Footnote 55: Proverbs i. 20, 21, 29] {295} Moreover, our Lord foresaw that the success of His gospel would be but partial. We see this in the very passage from which the text is taken. There is something melancholy in the way the evangelist introduces the parable of the sower: "_And when a very great multitude was gathered together and hastened out of the cities to Him, He spoke by a similitude: A sower went out to sow his seed_," etc. This was the thought which the sight of a very great multitude pressing around Him awoke in the mind of our Lord: how small a part would really give heed to His words, or really appreciate them: how in some hearts the word would be trodden down, in others be choked or wither away; and this is the secret of the energy with which He cried out at the end of the parable, "_He that hath ears to hear, let him hear_." The same thought comes out in the conversation which he had afterward with His disciples, when they asked an explanation of the parable: "_The heart of this people is grown gross; and with their ears they have been dull of hearing, and their eyes they have shut: lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them. But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear_." [Footnote 56] [Footnote 56: St. Matt. xiii. 15, 16.] Our Lord was as far as possible, then, from expecting that the course of things would stand still, and all men comply instantly with his preaching. Nor were His predictions respecting His Church such as to warrant more sanguine expectations of her success. {296} In His charge to His disciples, He let them know what they were to expect: "_When you come into a house salute it, saying: Peace be to this house. And if that house be worthy, your peace shall come upon it; but if it be not worthy, your peace shall return to you. And when they shall persecute you in this city, flee into another_." [Footnote 57] [Footnote 57: St. Matt. x. 12, 13, 23.] Nor were their trials to be altogether external. "_And then shall many be scandalised, and shall betray one another, and shall hate one another. And because iniquity hath abounded, the charity of many shall wax cold_." [Footnote 58] [Footnote 58: Ib. xxiv. 10, 12.] When, then, you say, See! in that country the Church has all but died out; in that country faith is weak, and the most active minds in it are estranged from religion; in that country scandals abound; in that country there was a great apostasy; that other was fruitful in heresies:--I reply, you are only verifying our Lord's predictions; you are only saying what He said before the event. If religion has not accomplished all that could be desired, it has at least done what it promised. Nor is this all. Not only did our Lord foresee that many would reject His grace, but He acquiesced in it. His work is not a failure, because He does not account it so. What though many refuse to listen? They that will be saved, those of good will and honest hearts, they will be saved, and that is enough. He saw of the travail of His soul, and was satisfied. Our Lord shed His blood for all men; He willed seriously the salvation of all men; but since all will not be saved, He is content to give it for those who will. He "is the Saviour of all men, _especially of the faithful_." [Footnote 59] [Footnote 59: 1 Tim. iv. 10.] When He came to Jerusalem to die, looking at the city, He wept to think how many were there who knew not the time of their visitation; but that did not deter Him from marching on to Mount Calvary. When He foretold to St. Peter, before His passion, all He was about to suffer, St. Peter, with mistaken affection, begged Him to spare Himself. "Far be this from Thee." {297} How much more would he have dissuaded our Lord, if he could have foreseen in how many cases these labors and sufferings would have been fruitless. Would he not have said to Him, "O Lord! do not suffer so much, turn away thy face from the smiter, and thy mouth from gall. Do not crush Thy heart with cruel grief, or bathe Thy body in a sweat of agony. The very men for whom Thou diest will disbelieve Thee, or, believing, will disobey Thee. Can we doubt to what effect our Saviour would have answered? "If I be lifted up I will draw all men to Me, and all will not resist Me. I shall see of the travail of My soul, and shall be satisfied." Or I can imagine that at the Last Supper, as our Lord was about to institute the Blessed Sacrament of His body and blood, the same warm-hearted disciple laying his hand on his Master's arm, might have said, "Do not do it! Thou thinkest they cannot withstand this proof of love. But, alas! they will pass by unheeding. Thou wilt remain on the altars of Thy churches night and day, but the multitude will not know Thee, or ask after Thee, and they that do know Thee will insult Thee in Thy very gifts, will treat Thee with disrespect, and receive Thee with dishonor." But our Lord gently disregards his remonstrance, and having loved His own who were in the world, loves them to the end, and for them is contented to make Himself a perpetual prisoner of love. Oh, my brethren, our statistics and our arithmetic are sadly at fault when we are dealing with divine things. When Abraham went to plead with Almighty God to spare Sodom, he began by asking as a great matter that the city might be spared if fifty just men were found in it, and the answer was prompt and free, "I will not do it for fifty's sake." Somewhat emboldened, he came down by degrees to ten, and received the same answer, but stopped there, thinking that he could make no further demand on the mercy of God. It is a thing we will never understand, how much God has the heart of a father. {298} When news was brought to the patriarch Jacob, that Joseph, his son, was yet living, all his woes and hardships were forgotten in a moment, and he said: It is enough. Joseph, my son, is yet alive." So, all the unkindness, disobedience, unbelief of men, are compensated to the heart of Christ by the fervor of His true children, His servants whom He hath chosen, His elect in whom His soul delighteth. Weary on the cross, His fainting eye sees their fidelity and their love, and His heart revives, and He says: "It is enough." Christ accounts the fruits of His redemption great, and they are great. This is our temptation, to undervalue the good that is in the world. Evil is so obtrusive, that we are but too apt to attribute to it a larger share in the world than it really holds. How much of good, then, has been and is in the world? The Blessed Virgin, the Queen of Heaven, the perfect fruit of Christ's redemption, once walked the earth, engaged in lowly, every-day duties, like any maid or mother among us. Moses and Elias and St. John the Baptist once lived our life here on the earth; and the hundred and forty-four thousand who sing a new song before the throne of God, and the great multitude that no man can number out of all people and kindreds and tribes and tongues, clothed in white and with palms in their hands. You talk of failure! Why has not the sound of the gospel gone into all lands, and its words to the end of the world? Have not empires owned its sway, and kings come bending to seek its blessings? Have not millions of martyrs loved it better than their lives? Has not the solitary place been made glad by the hymns of its anchorites, and the desert blossomed like a rose under their toil? Is there a profession, or trade, or court, or country which has not been sanctified by moral heroes who drew in their holy inspirations from its lessons? And who can tell us the amount of goodness in every-day life, to some extent necessarily hidden, but of which we catch such unearthly glimpses, and which is the practical fruit of its principles? {299} The virtuous families, the upright transactions, the glorious sacrifices, the noble charities, the restraint of passion, the interior purity, the patient perseverance! Listen to the description which God Himself gives of the results of the gospel: "_Who are these, that fly as clouds, and as doves to their windows? For the islands wait for me, and the ships of the sea in the beginning; that I may bring thy sons from afar; their silver and their gold with them, to the name of the Lord thy God, and to the Holy One of Israel, because He hath glorified thee. Iniquity shall no more be heard in thy land, wasting nor destruction in thy borders; and salvation shall possess thy walls, and praise thy gates. Thy sun shall go down no more, and thy moon shall not decrease: for the Lord shall be unto thee for an everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended. And thy people shall be all just; they shall inherit the land forever, the branch of my planting, the work if my hand, to glorify me. The least shall become a thousand, and a little one a most strong nation. I, the Lord, will suddenly do this thing in its time_." [Footnote 60] [Footnote 60: Isai. lx. 8, 9, 18, 20, 21. 22.] Now, this is the Catholic Church, as God saw it in the future, and as He sees it now. These beautiful words are true in their measure, of every diocese, of every parish, in our day. To-day, as the Holy Church throughout the world flings open her doors and rings her bells, and the crowd press in, in cities, in villages, in country places, God recognizes thousands of his true worshippers, who worship Him in spirit and in truth. We see and know some of them, but only His all-seeing eye sees them all, and only His omniscience, which foreknows the number of those who shall be His by faith and good works, can measure the greatness of the harvest of souls which He will reap at the end of the world. The Lord cometh with ten thousand of His saints. {300} The Last Judgment is the victory of Christ. Then again, surrounded by the fruit of His passion, He may repeat the words which He spoke at the close of His earthly ministry: "I have glorified thee upon the earth. I have _finished the work_ which thou gavest me to do. Those whom thou gavest Me I have kept, and none of them hath perished except the son of perdition." [Footnote 61] [Footnote 61: St. John xvii. 4, 12.] These thoughts point the way to two practical lessons, one relating to our duty to others, the other relating to our duty to ourselves. We see here the spirit in which we ought to labor for the conversion of others. There is certainly a great deal of good to be done around us. How many in this country are out of the Ark of safety, the Catholic Church of Christ! How many in her fold need our efforts and labors to make them better! Why are we not more active in laboring for them? We say it is of no use; we have tried and failed. Those whose conversion we had most at heart seem farther off from the truth than ever. It is no use hoping for the conversion of those who are not Catholics; they are too set in their ways. Many of those Catholics, too, who were doing well as we hoped, have fallen off again, and we are weary of laboring with so little success. Oh! what a mean spirit this is; how unlike the spirit of Christ! How unlike the spirit of that apostle who made himself all things to all men that he might save _some_. You will put up with no failures. Christ and St. Paul were content to meet with many failures for the sake of some success. How unlike the spirit of St. Francis of Sales, who labored so hard during so many discouraging years, for the conversion of his misguided Swiss. Christ was rejected and crucified by those whom He came to teach. The apostles were despised and their names cast out as evil. And you will not labor because you cannot have immediate and full success. But some success you will meet with. {301} You may not convert the one you desire to convert, but you will convert another. You may not succeed in the way or at the time you look for, but you will succeed in some other way and at some other time. There is nothing well done and charitably done for the truth that falls to the ground. God's word does not return to Him void, but accomplishes the thing whereunto He sent it. We labor, and other men enter into our labors. But the good work is done, and the fruits are garnered in heaven. Be of great hopes, then. You, my brethren of the priesthood, dare to undertake great things for the honor of our Lord and the extension of His kingdom. Use every means that prudence and charity can suggest to gain souls to Christ. In the morning sow your seed, and in the evening withhold not your hand. Labor in season and out of season. For Sion's sake hold not your hand, and for Jerusalem's sake do not rest, until her justice come forth as a brightness, and her salvation be lighted as a lamp! And you, my brethren of the laity, labor each in your place, as far as may be given you, in the same work. Blessing must come from labor, and reward from Him who has promised that "they that instruct many to justice shall shine as stars for all eternity." [Footnote 62] [Footnote 62: Dan. xii. 3.] The other lesson we learn is one which teaches us how to guide ourselves in a world of sin and scandal. It is no uncommon thing for men to draw injury to their own souls from the disorders around them, by making them a pretext for neglecting their own salvation, or taking a low standard of duty. One says, there is a man who does not attend to his religious duties, and makes out of this an excuse for his own neglect. "What is that to thee? Follow thou Me," is the answer of Christ. There is another who does go to the sacraments, but whose life is disedifying. He is profane, quarrelsome, untruthful, and artful. {302} Perhaps he is guilty of worse sins than these. "What is that to thee?" is again the answer: "Follow thou _Me_. My love, My life, my teaching is to be the rule of thy conduct, not the doctrines of others." Oh! how this cuts the way open to a solution of that question with which we sometimes vex ourselves. Are there few or many that will be saved? There are few if few, many if many. Few if few hear and obey, many if many hear and obey. Wisdom crieth aloud, she uttereth her voice in the streets; he that hath ears to hear, let him hear. One hears, lays up and ponders in his heart, like Mary, what he hears, and becomes a saint. Another hears as one who looks in a glass and immediately forgets what he saw reflected in it. Here is the distinction which produces election and reprobation, salvation and damnation. This is the practical question for each one of us: To which of these classes do I belong? This is the prayer which ought to be our daily petition: Give me, O Lord, an understanding heart, to know the things that belong to my peace, before they are forever hid from my eyes. How great the misery of passing through life slothful, careless, inattentive, and so losing the heavenly wisdom we might learn! How great the happiness of keeping the word in a good heart, and bringing forth fruit with patience! Those who do this not only secure their salvation, but they console Christ for all His cruel sufferings, for they constitute the fruit of His Passion, the success of His Gospel, the crown of Glory which He receives from the hand of His Father, the Royal Diadem which He will wear for all eternity. --------------------- {303} Sermon IX. The Work Of Life. (Septuagesima) "Why stand ye here all the day idle." --St. Matt. xx. 6. The parable in to-day's Gospel is intended to describe the invitations which God has given, from time to time in the history of the world, to various races and peoples, to enter the true Church and be saved. But it may be applied by analogy to His dealings with each individual soul, and our Lord's question in the text may be understood by each one of us as addressed directly to himself. Taken in this sense, it affords instruction and admonition, useful at all times, but more especially suitable on this day, when the Church first strikes the keynote of those stirring lessons of personal duty and accountability which are to be the burden of her teachings through the coming season of Lent. And, first, it reminds us of that solemn truth, that we have an appointed work to do on earth. It is difficult for us not to be sceptical sometimes on this point. Life is so short and uncertain, man is so frail and erring, that it seems strange the few years spent here on earth should exert any great influence on our eternity. Some such feeling as this was at the bottom of the old idea of heathen philosophy that God does not concern Himself with the affairs of men, that we and our doings are of too little consequence to occupy His attention. The book of Wisdom well expresses this creed: "_For we are born, say they" (that is, the unbelieving), "of nothing, and after this we shall be as if we had not been; and our life shall pass away as the trace of a cloud, and shall be dispersed as a mist, which is driven away by the beams of the sun, and overpowered by the heat thereof. And our name in time shall be forgotten: and no man shall have any remembrance of our works._" [Footnote 63] [Footnote 63: Wisdom ii. 2-4.] {304} But such a view of life does not agree either with reason or revelation. God, being Infinite Wisdom, must have an end in every thing which He created. If it was not beneath Him to create, it cannot be beneath Him to govern His creatures; and reason and free will must have been given to His rational creatures to guide them to their end. It is absurd to suppose a moral and intellectual being without a law and a destiny. And revelation confirms this decision of reason. It seems as if the Bible were written, in great part, to dispel the notion that God is a mere abstraction, and to exhibit Him to us as a personal God, interfering in His creation, giving to each created thing its place, and taking note of its operation. In the pages of Scripture the world is not a chance world, where every thing is doubt and confusion; but an orderly world, where every thing has its place. It is a vineyard, into which laborers are sent to gather the harvest. It is a house, in which each part has its order and use. It is a body, in which each member shares the common life, and contributes to it. It is a school, in which each scholar is learning a special lesson. It is a kingdom, in which citizen is bound to the other in relations of duty or authority. Yes, God has left a wide field for the free exercise of human choice and will. The pursuits of men, their studies, their pleasures, may be infinitely varied at their will; but not to have a mission from Heaven, not to have a work to do on earth, not to be created by God with a special vocation--this is not possible for man. He is too honorable and great. The image of God, which is traced on his soul, is too deep and enduring; his relation to God is too direct and immediate. No man can live unto himself, and no man can die unto himself. Each man that comes into the world is but an agent sent by God on a special embassy. And each man that dies, but goes back to give an account of its performance. {305} Do not accuse me of saddening and depressing you by thus covering man's life, from the cradle to the grave, with the pall of accountability. If God were a tyrant, if He reaped where He did not sow, if He exacted what was beyond our strength, if His service did not make us happy, if in His judgment of our actions He did not take into account the circumstances of each one, his opportunities, his ignorances, and even his frailties, then, indeed, the thought of our accountability would be a dreadful and depressing one. But while our Master and Judge is a God whose compassion is as great as His power, whose service is our highest satisfaction, who knows whereof we are made, and who in His judgment remembers mercy, the thought that each one of us has an appointed work to do is not only an incentive to duty, but the secret of happiness. There is nothing pleasant in a life without responsibility. Rest, indeed, is pleasant, but rest implies labor that has gone before, and it is the labor that makes the rest sweet. "_The sleep of a laboring man is sweet_," says the Holy Scripture. But a life all rest, with nothing special to do, without aim, without obligation, is a life without honor and without peace. They who spend their time in rushing from one amusement to another are commonly listless and wretched at heart, and seek only to forget in excitement the weariness and disappointment within. God has made the law, "In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread," medicinal as well as vindicative. When, then, you tell me that this world is not my all; that I have an immortal destiny, that life is a preparation for it; that the infinite truth is mine to know, the infinite beauty mine to possess; that I have a mission to fulfil; sin to conquer; duties to perform; merits to acquire; an account to render; you tell me that which indeed makes my conscience thrill with awe, but which, at the same time, takes all the meanness, the emptiness, the littleness out of life, covers it with glory, blends it with heaven, expands the soul, and fills it with hope and joy. {306} O truth too little known! Religion is not meant to be only a solace in affliction, a help in temptation, a refuge when the world fails us. All these it is, but much more. It is the business and employment of life. It is the task for which we were born. It is the work for which our life is prolonged from day to day. It is the consecration of my whole being to God. It is to realize that wherever I am, whatever I do, I am the child of God, doing His will, and extending His kingdom on earth. This is the secret of life. This is the meaning of the world. This is God's way of looking at the world. As He looks down from heaven, all other distinctions among men vanish, distinctions of nationality, differences of education, differences of station, and wealth, and influence, and only one distinction remains--the distinction between the righteous and the wicked, between him that serveth God and him that serveth Him not. When we look at the world, it dazzles us by its greatness, and overpowers us by its multiplicity. It is so eager and restless. It is so importunate and overbearing. Here is the secret which disenchants us from its spell. The world is not for itself. It is not its own end. It is but the field of human probation. It is but the theatre on which men are exercising each day their highest faculty, the power of free will. It is the scene of the great struggle between good and evil, between heaven and hell, the battle that began when "Michael and his angels fought with the dragon, and the dragon fought and his angels." [Footnote 64] [Footnote 64: Apoc. xii. 7] Into this arena each generation has entered, one after another, to show their valor. Once the saints of whom we read in the Bible and the history of the Church were upon the earth, and it was their turn, and heaven and earth were watching them. They did their work well. {307} So penetrated were they with the great thought of eternity that some of them, like Abraham, left home and kindred, and went out not knowing whither they went; and others, like the martyrs, gave their hearts' blood for a sacrifice. And there were others who were not saints, for they were not called to deeds of heroism, but they were good men, who in simplicity of heart fulfilled each duty, and served God with clean hands and pure hearts. And penitents have come in their turn. Once they were unwise, and the world deceived them, and they followed their own will, but afterward they turned to God, and redeemed their former sins by a true penance, and died in the number of those who overcame the Wicked One. And now it is our turn. There are many adversaries. All things are ready. The herald has called our name. And as the primitive martyrs, condemned to the wild beasts in the amphitheatre, nerved themselves for the encounter by the thought of the thousand spectators ranged around, so to animate our courage let us give heed to the sympathizing witnesses who watch our strife, and who cry to us from heaven and from earth: Be valiant! Do battle for the right! Acquit you like men! Be strong! And again, as our Lord's words in the text remind us that we have an appointed work to do, they remind us also that we have an allotted time to do it in. All men acknowledge that religion is a thing to be attended to. But when? Some seem to think that it is enough to attend to religion at Easter and Christmas, and that at other times it may be left alone. Some at still more distant intervals, when the time has been too long, and the number of sins too great, and the burden on the conscience too heavy. Others propose to attend to it in the leisure of old age, or just before they leave this world. And very many imagine that, if a man actually makes his peace with God at any time before he dies, there is not much to be regretted. How different is God's intention in this matter! "_Man goeth forth, to his work and to his labor until the evening_." Think of a day-laborer. {308} He rises very early in the morning, in the winter, long before it is light, and goes off to his work. He works all day until the evening, pausing only at noon, when he seeks some hollow in the rock, or the shelter of some overhanging shrub, to protect him from the cold or the heat, while he eats his frugal dinner. Now, it is after this pattern that God wishes us to work out our salvation. The Christian should work from the morning till the evening, from the beginning of life to the end of it. There is not a day that God does not claim for his own. There is not an hour over which He has resigned His sovereignty. A man who perfectly fulfils his duty begins to serve God early in the morning. In the morning of life, in early youth, when the dewdrops sparkle in the sunshine, and the birds sing under the leaves, and the flowers are in their fresh bloom and fragrance, and every thing is full of keen enjoyment, there is a low, sweet voice that speaks to the soul of the happy boy: "_My son, give me thy heart_." And he heeds that voice. It is time for first communion, and he has leave to go. He does not know fully the meaning of the act. It is too great and deep. But he knows that he is making [a] choice of God. He knows that God is very near him, and he is very happy. By and by the time has come for confirmation. The candidates stand before the bishop, and see, that boy is among the number. He is changed from what he was. He has grown to be a youth now. He is more thoughtful and reserved. He knows now what temptation means; he has seen the shadow of sin; he has caught the tones of the world's song of pleasure; but he does not waver; he is bold and resolute for the right, and he is come to fortify himself for the conflict of life by the special grace of the Almighty. And now time goes on, and he passes through the most dangerous part of life: he is a young man, he goes into business, he marries. There are times of fierce temptation, there are times when the objects of faith seem all to fade away from his mind, there are times when it seems as if the only good was the enjoyment of this world, but prayer and vigilance and a fixed will carry him through, and he passes the most critical period of life without any grievous stain on his soul. {309} Thus passes the noonday of his life, and he comes to its decline. It draweth toward evening. The shadows are getting long. The sun and the light and the moon are growing dark, and the clouds return after the rain. He is an old man and feeble, but there he is with the same heart he gave to God in youth; he has never recalled the offering. He has been true to his faith, true to his promises, true to his conscience, and at the hour of death he can sing his _Nunc dimittis_, and go to the judgment seat of Christ humbly but confidently to claim the reward of a true and faithful servant. Beautiful picture! Life to be envied! A life spent with God, over which the devil has never had any real power. But you tell me this is a mere fancy picture; no one lives such a life. I tell you this is the life God intended you and I should live. There have been men who have lived such lives, though, indeed, they are not many. But the number is not so small of those who approximate to it. Even suppose a man falls into mortal sin, and more than once, all is not lost. Suppose him, in some hour of temptation, to cast off his allegiance to God, and in his discouragement to look upon a life of virtue as a dream; yet, if such a one gathers up his manhood, if in humble acknowledgment of his sin he returns with new courage to take his place in the Christian race, such a man recovers not only the friendship of God, but the merits of his past obedience. There is a process of restoration in grace as well as in nature. Penance has power to heal the wounds and knit over the gaps which sin has made. What does the Holy Scripture say? "_I will restore to you the years which the locust, and the canker-worm, and the mildew, and the palmer-worm hath eaten._" [Footnote 65] [Footnote 65: Joel ii. 25.] {310} Many a man's life, which has not been without sin, has yet a character of continuity and a uniform tending toward God. I believe there are many who have this kind of perfection. They cannot say, "I have not sinned," for they have had bitter experience of their own frailty; but they can say, "I have sinned, but I have not made sin a law to me. I have not allowed myself in sin, or withdrawn myself from Thy obedience. I have not gone backward from Thee. I have fallen, but I have risen again. O Lord, Thou hast been my hope, even from my youth, from my youth until now, until old age and gray hairs." And now, my brethren, if we try our past lives and our present conduct by the thought of the work we have to do on earth and the persevering attention we ought to pay to it, do we not find matter for alarm? and does not our Lord's question convey to us the keenest reproach? "Why stand ye here all the day idle?" Yes, idle; that is the word. There is all the difference in the world between committing a sin in the time of severe temptation, for which we are afterward heartily sorry, and doing nothing for our salvation. And is not this our crime, that we are idlers and triflers in religion? What have our past lives been? What years spent in neglect, or even in sin? What long periods of utter forgetfulness of God? What loss of time? What excessive anxiety about this world? What devotion to pleasure? And are we now really doing any thing for heaven? Are we really redeeming the past by a true penance? Are we diligent in prayer, watchful against temptation, watchful of the company we keep, watchful of the influence we exert, watchful over our tempers, watchful to fulfil our duties, watchful against habits of sin? Are we living the lives God intended us to live? Can we say, "I am fulfilling the requirements of my conscience, in the standard which I propose to myself?" Ah! is not this our misery, that we have left off striving? that we are doing nothing, or at least nothing serious and worthy of our salvation? "Why stand ye all the day idle?" _All the day_. Time is going. {311} Time that might have made us holy, time that has sanctified so many others who set Out with us in life, is gone, never to return. The future is uncertain; how much of the day of life is left to us we know not. And graces have been squandered. No doubt, as long as we live we shall have sufficient grace to turn to God, if we will; but we know not what we do, when we squander those special graces which God gives us now and then through life. The tender heart, the generous purpose that we had in youth; the fervor of our first conversion; the kind warnings and admonitions of friends long dead; these have all passed away. Oh, what opportunities have we thrown away! What means of grace misused! "Why stand ye all the day idle?" You cannot say, "No man hath hired us." God has not left you to the light of natural reason alone, to find out your destiny. In baptism He has plainly marked out for you your work. And now in reproachful tones He speaks to your conscience: "Creature of my hand, whom I made to serve and glorify me; purchase of my blood, whom I bought to love me; heir of heaven, for whose fidelity I have prepared an eternal reward, why is it that you resist my will, withstand your own conscience and reason, despise my blood, and throw away your own happiness?" But the words of Christ are not only a reproach, but an invitation. "Why stand ye here all the day idle?" It is not, then, too late. God does nothing in vain; and when He calls us to His service, He pledges himself that the necessary graces shall not be wanting, nor the promised reward fail. Church history is full of beautiful instances of souls that, after long neglect, recovered themselves by a fervent penance. Some even, who are high in the Church's Calendar of Saints, had the neglect and sin of years upon their consciences when they began. There is only one unpardonable sin, and that is to put off conversion until it is too late. As long as God calls, you can hearken and be saved. To-day, then, once more He calls. To-day, once more the trumpet-blast of penance sounds in your ears. {312} Another Lent is coming, a season of penance and prayer. Prepare yourself for that holy season by examination of your conscience. Refuse no longer to work in the Lord's vineyard. Offer no more excuses; make no more delay. Work while it is called to-day, that when the evening comes, and the Lord gives to the laborers their hire, you may be found a faithful workman, "that needeth not to be ashamed." --------------------- Sermon X. The Church's Admonition To The Individual Soul. (Ash Wednesday.) "Take heed to thyself." --1 Tim. iv. 16. The services of the Church to-day are very impressive. The matter of her teaching is not different from usual. The shortness of life, the certainty of judgment, the necessity of faith and repentance, are more or less the topics of her teaching at all times of the year. But this teaching is ordinarily given to the assembled congregation, to crowds, to multitudes. But to-day she speaks to us as individuals. She summons us, one by one, young and old, and, as we kneel before her, she says to us, while she scatters dust on our foreheads, "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return." It is in this individual and personal character of her warning that I find its special significance and impressiveness. There is no mistaking what she means. "Remember, O man, that thou art dust, and unto dust shalt thou return." She separates each one of us from all others, and gives her message to him in particular. It is an emphatic mode of conveying St. Paul's admonition to St. Timothy: "Take heed to thyself." {313} If we take only the sound of the words, it might seem that no such admonition was necessary. For, in one sense, men attend to themselves quite enough. But, in fact, there is more than one self in a man. There is the self that is made up of our passions, our failings and disgusts, our comforts and conveniences: this is the self that speaks so loudly in the heart, and obtrudes itself so disagreeably on others. This, when indulged, is what we call selfishness, and this it is which it is one main object of religion to repress. But there is another self in a man, his true and noble self, that self which makes him an individual being, which asserts itself most distinctly in that part of his soul where it comes into closest contact with God, namely, his conscience. And this self it is very possible for men to forget. A man may be a priest and have the care of souls, and be employed in preaching and administering the sacraments, or he may be a bishop, and live an active life in governing his church, and yet he may forget himself in this sense. St. Timothy was a bishop, a sharer in apostolic character and apostolic gifts, and yet St. Paul did not think it unnecessary to give him the warning of the text. How must, then, a man forget himself whose occupation is more secular? Tell me: those eager crowds one meets with in the streets, hurrying hither and thither, do you think each one of these realizes that in some sense there is no other in the world but God and he? Or in a crowded church, on Sunday, when the preacher, in God's name, is enforcing this duty, or denouncing that vice, that woman sitting in the pew, that man standing in the aisle, does he, does she realize that the words are spoken to them individually, that it is a lesson they are to lay to heart--to practise? No! I must say what I think, that there are some who pass through life, from the cradle to the grave, almost without ever once fully awakening to their own self-consciousness; to their own individual existence, apart from the world around them; and their own individual relations to God. {314} A man may even practise his religion, may know a great deal about it, may talk about it, may listen to every word of the sermon in the church, may say his night prayers, may even go through some kind of a confession and communion, without fully awaking to these things. Paradoxical as it may seem, I believe that there are not a few men, who, of all persons in the world of whom they have any knowledge, are on terms of the slightest and most distant acquaintance with themselves. And I will give you one proof that this is true. You know how troubled many men are in sickness, or on a sleepless night, or in times of great calamity. Some persons are greatly troubled in a storm, when the thunder rolls over their heads, and the lightning flashes in their eyes. Now, of course, nervousness, physical causes, mental laws, and social considerations, may enter more or less into the production of this uneasiness, but is there not very often something deeper than any of these? Is it not something that the man has done yesterday, or last week, or last year, and that he has never set right; some unjust transaction, some evil deed, some act of gross neglect of duty, some miserable passion cherished, some impure words spoken, some cruelty or shrinking from what is right, or falsehood, or mischief-making. It is not a matter of imagination. It is not fancy, but fact. He remembers but too well; he knows when it was done, and all the consequences of it, every thing comes up distinctly. He shuts his eyes, but he cannot shut it out. You know the clock ticks all day long; amid the various cares of the day you do not hear it, but oh, how distinct and loud it is at night when your ear catches it. Did you ever have an aching tooth, which you could just manage to bear during the excitement of the day, but which began to throb and become intolerable when all was still at night, and you had gone to bed? So the uneasiness I have denoted is a real pain of the soul, which we manage to keep down and forget, or deaden, during our seasons of business and enterprise, but in hours of loneliness and danger makes itself felt. {315} And what does this show but that you do not attend to your real self; that there is some dark corner of your heart in which you fear to look. You keep the veil down, because you know there is a skeleton behind it and you are afraid to look at it. And so you go through life, playing a part, something that you are not, with smiles on your lips and honeyed words in your mouth, laughing and jesting, eating and drinking and sleeping, working and trading, going in and out, paying visits and receiving them, seeking admiration and flattering others, while all the while, deep down in your soul, there is that nameless something, that grief like lead in the bottom of your heart, that wound that you are afraid to probe, or to uncover, or even to acknowledge. And now, it is this deceitful way in which men deal with themselves, this forgetfulness of themselves, that makes death and judgment so terrible. Death brings out the individuality of the soul in the most distinct light. Every thing that hides us from ourselves shall then be removed, every veil and shred torn away, and only ourselves shall remain. A well-known writer has expressed this in a few short words: "I shall die alone;" and the same thought is suggested by the language of the Gospel in reference to the end of the world: "Two men shall be in the field, one shall be taken and the other left. Two women shall be grinding at the mill, one shall be taken and the other left." One shall be taken, and he shall be taken alone--out of all the surroundings which have enveloped him here like an atmosphere, and into which he has been fitted like a long-worn garment. When our first parents heard the voice of the Lord God calling to them in the garden after the fall, they hid themselves, and Adam said: "I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself." So will it be when the soul stands "before God in its nakedness, ashamed because of its guilty self-consciousness. {316} So it was with the rich man in our Lord's parable. He lived like the multitude. He had four brothers, and they were all alike. They had heard the sermons of Moses and the Prophets, but little did they think it all concerned them. But at last one of them died, and then he woke up to himself. His life is all before him. "Thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things." That was the story of it. He sees it all now: he sees what a glutton, what a proud, hardhearted, avaricious man he had been; he sees what a creature of sensuality and self-indulgence he is. Very different is his judgment of himself now, from what it was when, in his purple robes, he revelled in his banqueting-hall, the air heavy with perfume, and the table flowing with silver and flowers, and the slaves bringing in the costly dishes, while Lazarus, the beggar, sat at his gates, full of sores, and hungering for the crumbs that fell from his table. And so it will be with us: awakened to a full consciousness that our relations to God are the only reality. Stripped of all the circumstances that deceived and misled and blinded us here; with conscience fully awakened, with all the consequences of sin open before me and all its guilt manifest; I shall be brought face to face with myself, with what I am, with what I have been, with what I have done, with my sins, and my self-will, and my pride. Yes, this is the real terror of death and judgment. We think its fearfulness will be in the frowning Judge, and the throne set amid thunder and lightnings. Oh, no! the Judge does not frown, He is calm and serene. He sits radiant in beauty and grace. "When these things begin to come to pass," says the evangelist, speaking of the signs of the end of the world, "then look up and lift up your heads, for your redemption draweth nigh." No! Christ is not transported with anger. He is always the same; but the way of His coming is different as they to whom He comes are different. The object is unchanged, but the medium through which we view it will be different. {317} There shall be an apparition of terror to the wicked, but it will not be Christ, it will be themselves. The face of Christ shall be a mirror in which each man shall see himself. Young man, after your career of vice and profligacy, you shall see yourself, the moral leper that you are. There the extortioner, the fraudulent merchant, shall see himself as he is, the unconvicted thief and robber; there the unfaithful husband or wife shall see themselves branded with the mark that tells their shame. The proud woman shall see there the deep stains of her soul in all their blackness, and her worldly, guilty heart, all laid bare. O sight of piercing anguish! "O hills and mountains fall on us, and cover us, and hide us from the wrath of God and of the Lamb." But no, it is not from the wrath of God and of the Lamb, that we need to be hidden, it is from ourselves. Which way I fly is hell, myself am hell. A lost destiny, an existence bestowed in vain. A life passed as a dream; capacities for happiness never used; graces refused; time gone; opportunity lost; not merely a law broken, a punishment inflicted; but I, myself, with my supernatural grace and destiny--I, with all my lofty hopes and powers--I, ruined and crushed forever: that is the hopeless, boundless misery. This is the sore affliction of the guilty after death; and it is the dread of this dismay that keeps thee trembling all thy life. But, on the other hand, for a man to face himself, to excite himself to a consciousness of his own individuality, and to a fulfilment of his own personal obligation to God, is the way to a peaceful and happy life. The Scripture uses a notable expression when describing the return of the prodigal: "He came to himself;" and in our ordinary language, when we wish to express the idea of a man's seriously reflecting on his destiny and duty, we say he enters into himself. These expressions are full of significance. They teach us that something is to be done that no one can do for us. Others can help us here, but each one for himself must make his own individual and personal election sure. {318} Each must go down into his own heart, search out all the dark corners, repent of its sins, resist its passions, direct its aims and desires. It is not a work done in a day. It is sometimes a difficult work. There are times in which it pierces to the very quick of our sensitive being, but it is the real and only way to true peace. And oh! it is true and living peace when the soul in its deepest centre is anchored to God; when nothing is covered over, nothing kept from His sight. There may be imperfections, there may be sins and repentances, but there must be, when such a course is habitual, a true and growing peace. Do not look abroad, my brethren, for your happiness. It is to be found in yourselves. Happy he who knows the meaning of that word: "My God and I." This is to walk with God like Abraham. Of this man the Almighty says, as he did of Jacob, "I have known thee by thy name." His relations to God are not merely those general ones that grow out of creation and redemption: to him God is his life, his very being, the soul of his soul. To-day, my brethren, if I have led your thoughts in the direction I have wished, you see that each one of you has a great work to do, that he must do himself. It will not do for you that you have had a pious mother or a good wife. It is not enough that some one around you, who lives near you, or sits near you in the church, is a good Christian. It is not enough that you are a Catholic, one of the vast body of believers in the world. Religion is a personal, individual thing. All other men in the world may stand or fall: that does not affect you. Each one of us has his own independent position before God. If you are one of a family, if you live in a house with others, or work in a room with many companions, if you are one of a gang of laborers, or a clerk in an office where many others are employed, or a scholar in a school where there are many others of your age, there is a circle around you that separates you from each one of your companions. {319} If you were to die to-night, your sentence would be different from that of every other. It might be contrary to those of all the others. They might be friends of God, and you His only enemy. And the difference would be not from any outward cause, but from yourself. "_I shall see God_," says the prophet, "_whom I myself shall see, and my eyes shall behold and not another_." [Footnote 66] And now, if your conscience tells you that there is something unsatisfactory in your character, something sinful in your conduct, it is for you to set it right, and to do it without delay. It is the first duty of Lent. The forty days of grace and penance are given for redeeming our sins and saving our souls. What, then, should be each one's resolution? I will enter into myself, not _we_ will do this, or I will do it if my friend does, but _I, myself_, I will enter into myself. I will ask myself what this strange, mysterious life of mine in earnest means, and whether I am to-day advancing to my destiny. I will break off my sins, and I will pray. It is in prayer that I shall understand my duty. It is in God that I shall find myself. The solemn words of the Church shall not be uttered in vain for me: "Thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return." How many have heard that warning and are now no more. The young have died, the old, the pious, the careless, the rich, and the poor, and each has gone to his own place, the place and portion fitted to his deeds and his character. Perhaps it will not be very long before these words will be verified in me. The Mass shall be said for me, the holy water sprinkled over my lifeless form. What shall it then profit me what others have said in my favor or against me? I shall be simply what I am before God. "_What shall it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" "I shall see God, whom I myself shall see, and my eyes shall behold and not another_." [Footnote 66: Job xix. 27.] NOTE--This appears to be the last sermon which F. Baker wrote. It was preached on the evening of the Ash-Wednesday before his death as the first of the Lenten Course of Sermons. ------------------------------------------ {320} Sermon XI. The Negligent Christian. (Third Sunday In Lent.) "He that is not with Me is against Me; and he that gathereth not with Me, scattereth." --St. Luke XI. 23. There are many seeds planted in the ground that never come up. There is a great deal of fruit on the trees that never comes to ripeness. So among Christians there is a great deal of good that always remains incomplete and inadequate. Who of us has not seen such? Who of us does not know such? They have some faith, some religion, but they bring no fruit to perfection. Now, what is the blight that destroys all their goodness? It is sloth, negligence, tepidity, call it what you will. Religion influences them, but does not control them. They do not reject it, but they do not obey it, at least consistently and in principle. They are languid Christians. They are not the worst, but they are not good. They seek with eagerness the pleasures of the world, and make no conscience of avoiding smaller sins, even when wilful and deliberate. They neglect the means of grace, prayer, sermons, and sacraments, with but little scruple, or approach them carelessly. They allow themselves a close familiarity with evil, dally with temptation, and now and then fall into mortal sin. So they go through life, conscious that they are living an unsatisfactory life, but making no vigorous efforts to better it. It is of such men that I would speak this morning; and I propose to show how displeasing this negligence of our salvation is to God, and how dangerous it is to ourselves. {321} The negligent Christian displeases God because he does not fulfil the end for which he was created. What is the end for which God created us? Certainly it is not for ourselves, for before God created us we were not, and could not have been the end for which He made us. He must have made us for Himself, for His glory. Yes, this is the end for which He does every thing, for Himself. From the very fact that we are created, our end must be to love and serve God. We are bound, then, to love and serve God, and we are bound to do it with perfection and alacrity. What kind of creature is that which renders to God a reluctant and imperfect service? Suppose a king were to appoint a day to receive the homage of his subjects, and while he was holding his court, and one after another was coming forward to kiss his hand or bend the knee, some one, ill-attired, and with slovenly demeanor, should approach and offer a heedless reverence. Would it not be taken as an act of contempt and an offence? Now, God is our King, and He holds a levee every morning and invites the creation to renew its homage. The world puts on its best array. The sun comes forth as a bridegroom out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a giant to run his course. The mountains and hills clothe themselves in blue, and the trees put on their robes of green. The birds sing, and the waters move and sparkle. Holy and humble men of heart rise from their beds to enter on their daily course of duty and of prayer, while within the veil the spirits of the just and the ten thousand times ten thousand angels bow before the Throne of Him that lives forever. And now in this great Act of Praise, this ceaseless sacrifice that creation is offering to its Maker, there comes in the negligent Christian, cold, distracted, and unprepared to take his part. He does not kneel down to pray. He goes to work without a blessing. He does not think of God. Nay, in His very presence says and does unseemly things. Oh! is he not a blot on the scene? Is not his presence an offence? {322} In the Old Testament, God complains of the Jewish priests because they brought to Him the halt and the blind and the sick for sacrifice. He says: "Offer it now to thy prince, will _he_ be pleased with it, or will _he_ regard thy face?" [Footnote 67] [Footnote 67: Mal. i. 8.] So in like manner, negligent Christian, God complains of you. You bring to Him a "lame sacrifice," those feet of thine that stumble so often in the way of justice; a "blind" and "sick sacrifice," that heart of thine, so fond of the world and so weak in the love of God. Yes, God requires of us all fervor and perfection--of each one of us. It is a great mistake to suppose that perfection is required only of priests or religious; it is required of every one. We are not all required to seek perfection in the same way. The married seek it in one way, the unmarried in another. The man of business seeks it one way, the recluse in another. But everyone is required to seek it in such way as accords with his state in life. "That is a faithful servant," says St. Gregory, "who preserves every day, to the end of his life, an inexhaustible fervor, and who never ceases to add fire to fire, ardor to ardor, desire to desire, and zeal to zeal." Our own hearts tell us this when they are really under the influence of the Spirit of God. Take a man at his first conversion, either to the faith or to a good life, and how fervent he is! It is not enough for him to come to Mass always on a Sunday, he will come now and then on a week-day. It is not enough for him to keep from what is sinful, he will not allow himself all that is innocent. He does not think of bargaining with God. This is his thought--that God is All, and he is a creature, and that God deserves his best, his all. By-and-by, alas! as he becomes unfaithful, another spirit comes over him. He asks: "Is this binding under mortal sin? That duty is irksome; is it a great matter if I omit it now and then?" God tells us what he thinks of such a man in the parable of the Talents. {323} When the Lord came to reckon with his servants, he that had received one talent came and said, "_Lord, I know that thou art a hard man, thou reapest where thou hast not sown, and gatherest where thou hast not strewed. And being afraid, I went and hid thy talent in the earth_." And his Lord in answer said to him: "_Thou wicked and slothful servant! thou knewest that I reap where I sow not and gather where I have not strewed. Thou oughtest therefore to have committed my money to the bankers, and at my coming I should have received my own with usury. Cast ye the unprofitable servant into exterior darkness_." [Footnote 68] [Footnote 68: St. Matt. xxv. 24.] Again, if fervor in our duties is due to God as our Creator, it is none the less due to Christ as our Redeemer. Oh, how strong are the words of St. Paul: "_The love of Christ presseth us; judging this, that if one died for all, then were all dead. And Christ died for all, that they also that live may not now live to themselves but to Him who died for them_." [Footnote 69] [Footnote 69: II. Cor. v. 14.] You see what his idea was--that the love of Christ was a debt that could never be paid, that it was a claim on us that pressed continually, and was never satisfied. And surely it is so. When we think at all, we must all acknowledge that it is so. Who is Christ? the Son of God, the Splendor of His Father's Glory, and the Image of His Substance. Who are we? lost sinners. And for us "He did not abhor the Virgin's womb." He did not refuse "to bear our infirmities, and carry our sorrows." He gave His body to the smiters, and turned not away from those that rebuked Him and spat upon Him. He gave His blood [as] a ransom for many, and laid down His life for sin. Was there ever love like this? While gratitude lives among men, what shall be the return given to Christ by those whom He has redeemed? Is the return we are actually making such as He deserves? {324} Was it for this that He died, that we should not commit _quite so many_ mortal sins? Was it for this that He hung on the cross, that _only now and then_ we should omit some important duty? Was it for this that He sweat those great drops of blood, that we should live a slothful and irreligous life? O my brethren, when I see how men are living; when I look at some Christians, and see how when Easter comes round it is an even chance whether they go to their duties or not; when I see them on Sunday stay away from Mass so lightly, or listen to the word of God so carelessly; when I see them omit most important duties toward their families; when I see how freely they expose themselves to temptation, and how easily they yield to it; when I see how slow they are to prayer, how cold, sluggish, sensual and worldly they are; above all, when I hear them give for an answer, when they are questioned about these things, so indifferently, "_I neglected it_," I ask myself, Did these men ever hear of Christ? Do they know in whose name they are baptized? Did they ever look at a crucifix, or read the story of the Passion? Alas! yes, they have seen and heard and read, and have taken their side, if not with Judas in his deceitful kiss, or the soldiers in their mockery, with the crowd of careless men who passed by, regardless and hard-hearted. But let these men know that their Saviour sees and resents their neglect. "_Because thou art lukewarm_," He says, "_and neither cold nor hot, I will begin to vomit thee out of my mouth_." [Footnote 70] His soul loathes the slothful and half-hearted. Yes, slothful Christian, far different will be the estimate thou wilt make of thy life when thou comest to die, from what thou makest now. Then that negligence of thine, of which thou makest so little, will seem the crime it really is; and bitter will be the account thou shalt render of it to Christ thy Judge. [Footnote 70: Apoc. iii. 16.] {325} But if it be not enough to rouse us from our torpor, to think that we are offending God, let us reflect how great is the danger which we are bringing on our own souls. A negligent Christian is in very great danger of being lost. I said just now that he falls into mortal sins now and then. It is hardly possible it should be otherwise. One will certainly fall into mortal sin if he does not take pains to avoid it. We all have within us concupiscence, or a tendency to love the creature with a disordered love, and this tendency is much increased in most men by actual sins of their past lives. Now, this principle acts as a weight on the will, always dragging it down to the earth. Fervent men make allowance for this. They aim higher than it is necessary to reach. They leave a margin for failures, weakness, and surprise. They build out-works to guard the approaches to the citadel. But with the negligent Christian it is the contrary of all this. Unreflecting, unguarded, unfortified by prayer, in his own weakness, and with his strong bent to evil, he must meet the immediate and direct temptations to mortal sin which befall him in his daily life. Is not his fall certain? Not to speak of very strong temptations which can only be overcome by a special grace, which grace God has not promised to grant except to the faithful soul--even ordinary temptations are too much for such a man. He falls into mortal sin almost without resistance. And what is also to be taken into the account is, that the difference between mortal and venial sin is often a mere question of more or less. So much is a mortal sin: so much is not. The line is often very difficult, nay, impossible to be drawn, even by a theologian. Now, who can tell us in practice when we have arrived at the limit of venial sin, when we have passed beyond it and are in mortal sin? Will not a careless, thoughtless man, such as I have described, will he not be certain sometimes to go over the fatal line? Yes, my brethren, negligent Christians commit mortal sins. They commit mortal sins almost without knowing it. They commit mortal sins oftener than they imagine. {326} Without opposing religion, without abandoning themselves to a reprobate life, just by neglecting God and their duties, they fall into grievous sins; bad habits multiply upon them apace, their passions grow stronger, grace grows weaker, their good resolutions less frequent and less hopeful, until they are near to spiritual ruin. The wise man gives us in a striking picture the description of such a soul: "_I passed by the field of the slothful man and by the vineyard of the foolish man: And behold, it was all filled with nettles, and thorns had covered the face thereof: and the stone wall was broken down, which when I had seen, I laid it up in my heart, and by the example I received instruction. Thou will sleep a little, said I: thou will slumber a little: thou will fold thy hands a little to rest: And poverty shall come upon thee as one that runneth, and want as an armed man_." [Footnote 71] [Footnote 71: Proverbs xxiv. 30.] And what is to secure you from dying in such a state? Our Lord says, "_If the master of the house had known in what hour the thief would come, he would have watched, and would not have suffered his house to be broken open_." [Footnote 72] [Footnote 72: Matt. xxiv. 43.] But he knew not, and so in the dead of night, when deep sleep falleth on man, the thief came. And so it is with death. It comes like a thief in the night. Death is almost always sudden. Sometimes it comes without any warning at all. A man is sent into eternity in a moment, without time to utter a prayer. Sometimes it comes after sickness, but sickness does not always prepare for death. The sick man says: "Oh, it is nothing; I shall soon be well." His friends say the same. If he gets worse the priest is sent for; he would like to receive the sacraments. But too often he has not yet looked Death in the face, he has not heard the dreadful truths he has to tell, he is much as he was in life, slothful and negligent. And after the priest is gone, when he is alone, at midnight, that comes to pass of which he has thought so little. {327} Death enters the room, and with his icy hand unlocks the prison of the body, whispering to the soul with awful voice, "Arise, and come to judgment." O my brethren, how dreadful, if at that hour you find yourself unready! If like the foolish virgins you are forced to cry: "Our lamps are gone out." "_Cursed is he that doeth the work of the Lord negligently_," [Footnote 73] saith the Holy Scripture. The work of the Lord is the work of our salvation. That is the work of our life, the work for which we are created, and he, who through negligence leaves this work undone, shall hear at the last that dreadful sentence: "Depart ye cursed." [Footnote 73: Jer. xlviii. 10.] We come back, then, to this truth, that the only way to secure our salvation is to be not slothful in that business, but fervent in spirit, serving the Lord. Salvation is a serious work. We are not sufficiently aware of this. We seem somehow to have got in the belief that the way of life is not strait, and the gate not narrow. Certainly we feel very differently about our salvation from what our fathers in the Catholic Church felt. How many have gone out into the desert and denied themselves rest and food, and scourged themselves to blood! How many have devoted themselves to perpetual silence! How many have willingly given up wealth and friends and kindred! How many, even their own lives! Will you tell me they were but seeking a _more perfect_ life? they were but following the counsels of perfection, which a man is free to embrace or decline? I tell you they were seeking their _salvation_. They were afraid of the judgment to come, and were trying to prepare for it. "Whatever I do," says St. Jerome, "I always hear the dreadful sound of the last trumpet: 'Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment.'" Now, can salvation be a work so serious to them and so trivial for us? Grant that yon are not bound to do precisely what they did, are you at liberty to do nothing? {328} If you are not bound to a perpetual fast, are you at liberty to darken your mind and inflame your passions by immoderate drinking? If yon are not required to walk with downcast eyes and to observe perpetual silence, are you free to gaze on every dangerous object, and to speak words of profanity, falsehood, impurity, or slander? If you are not required to flee from your homes, are you not required to forsake the occasions of sin? If you are not called to forego all innocent pleasures, are you exempt from every sort of self-denial? If no rule obliges you to spend the night in prayer, are you not obliged to pray often? Yes, it was the desire to place their salvation in security that led our fathers into the desert. Surely, we have to work out our salvation with fear and trembling, who remain behind in a world which they left as too dangerous, and have to contend with passions which they felt wellnigh too strong for them. We must be what they were. "_The time is short: it remaineth that they who have wives be as those who have not; and they who weep as they who weep not; and they who rejoice as they who rejoice not; and they who buy as they who possess not; and they who use this world as if they used it not; for the figure of this world passeth away_." [Footnote 74] [Footnote 74: I. Cor. vii. 29, 30.] My brethren, then be earnest in the work of your salvation. While we have time let us do good, and abound in the work of the Lord. Serve the Lord with a perfect heart. He deserves our very best. Our own happiness, too, will be secured by it, for He says: "_Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me, and you shall find rest to your souls_." [Footnote 75] And to the fervent: "_An entrance shall be ministered abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of Jesus Christ_." [Footnote 76] [Footnote 75: Matt. xi. 29.] [Footnote 76: II. Pet. i. 11.] {329} This is my desire for you, to see you fervent Christians. I would like to know that you are anxious to assist at the Holy Mass on week-days as well as on Sundays. I would like to know that you pray morning and evening. I would like to believe that you speak with God often as the day goes on. I would like to know that you are watchful over your lips for fear of giving offence with your tongue; that you are prompt to reject the first temptations to evil; that you are exact in the fulfilment of your duties; that you are careful in confession, and devout at communion--in a word, that you are living a life of watchfulness against the coming of Christ to judgment. This includes all. This is what our Saviour enjoined on us: "_Take heed; watch and pray; for you know not when the Lord of the house cometh: at even, or at midnight, or at cock-crowing, or in the morning. Lest coming of a sudden, He find you sleeping_." [Footnote 77] [Footnote 77: St. Mark xiii. 35.] ------------------------------------- Sermon XII. The Cross, The Measure of Sin. (Passion Sunday) "For my thoughts are not as your thoughts; nor your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are exalted above the earth, so are my ways exalted above your ways, and my thoughts above your thoughts." --Isa. LV., 8, 9. To-day, my brethren, is the beginning of Passion-tide, the most solemn part of the season of Lent. The two weeks between now and Easter are set apart especially for the remembrance of the sufferings of Christ. Therefore the Church assumes the most sombre apparel, and speaks in the saddest tone. The actual recital of the Passion, the following of our Blessed Saviour step by step in His career of woe, she reserves for the last three days of this sorrowful fortnight. {330} In this, the earlier part of it, her aim is rather to suggest some thoughts which lead the way to Calvary, and prepare the mind for the great event that happened there. I shall then be saying what is suitable to the season, and at the same time directing your minds to what I regard as one of the most useful reflections connected with this subject, by asking you this morning to consider the sufferings of Christ as a revelation of the evil of sin. But, it may be asked, does man need a revelation on this point? Is not the natural reason and the natural conscience sufficient to tell us that sin is wrong? Undoubtedly a man naturally knows that sin is an evil, and without this knowledge, indeed, he would be incapable of committing sin, since in any action a man is only guilty of the evil which his conscience apprehends. But this natural perception of sin is more or less confused and indistinct. Our Saviour on the cross prayed for His murderers in these words: "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." He did not mean that they were ignorant that they were doing wrong, for then they could have needed no forgiveness, but that they did not realize the full atrocity of the deed. They were acting guiltily indeed, but inadvertently and blindly: And the same may be said of very many sinners. Sin is for the most part a leap in the dark. A man knows he is doing a dangerous thing, but he does not realize the full danger. He does not take in the full scope of his action, nor its complete consequences. St. Paul speaks of the deceitfulness of sin, and the expression describes very well the source of that disappointment and unhappiness which often overtakes the transgressor when he finds himself involved in difficulties from which it is all but impossible to extricate himself and sorrows which he never anticipated. It is the old story. Sin "_beginneth pleasantly, but in the end it will bite like a snake and will spread abroad poison like a serpent_." [Footnote 78] Oh! how many are there who are finding this true in their own experience every day. [Footnote 78: Prov. xxiii. 31, 32.] {331} Tell me, my brethren, do you think that young persons who contract habits of sin that undermine their health know all they are bringing on themselves--the weakness of body, the feebleness of mind, the early decay, the shame, the remorse, the impotence of will, the tyranny of passion, the broken vows and resolutions, the hopelessness, the fear--perhaps the premature disease and death? No, all this was not in their thoughts at first. These are the bitter lessons which the youth has learned in the school of sin. He has not found out what he was doing till it was all but too late. Or that married woman who has stepped aside from the path of virtue, did she realize what she was doing? Did she think of the plighted faith broken; did she think of the horrible guilt of the adulteress, of the agony, the remorse, the deceit, the falsehood, the trembling fear of her whole future life; did she realize the moment when her guilt would be detected, the fury of her wronged husband, her family dishonored, her children torn from her embrace, her name infamous, herself forlorn and ruined? Oh, no! these things she did not realize. There was indeed, on the day when she committed the dreadful crime, a dark and fearful form in her path, that raised its hands in warning, and frowned a frown of dreadful menace. It was the awful form of conscience, but she turned away from the sight, and shut her ear to the words, and heard not half the message. And so the dreadful consequences of her sin have come upon her almost as if there had been no warning. Or that drunkard, when he was a handsome young man, with a bright eye and a light step, and was neatly dressed, and was succeeding in his business; when he first began to tipple, did he realize that he would soon be a diseased, bloated, dirty vagabond; that his children would be half naked, and his wife half starved; or that he would spend the last cent in his pocket, or the last rag on his back, in the vain effort to allay that thirst for drink which is almost as unquenchable as the fire of hell? {332} No, he little foresaw it, and if it had been told him, he would have said with Hasael, the Syrian captain, when Elisha showed him the abominations he was about to commit, "What, am I a dog, that I should do such things?" Or that thief, when he yielded to the glittering temptation, and made himself rich for a while with dishonest riches, did he then see before him the deeper poverty that was to follow; the loss of all that makes a man's heart glow and his life happy; the lies that he must tell, the subterfuges he must resort to, the horrible detection, the loss of situation, the public trial, the imprisonment? No. Of course these were all daily in his thoughts, for they were part of the risk he knew he was running; but so little did he bring them home to himself, and the suffering he was to endure, that when they came it seemed almost hard, as if a wholly unlooked-for calamity had overtaken him. So it is. Wherever we look it is the same thing. Men imagine sin to be a less evil than it really is. It is so easy to commit it, it is so soon done, the temptation so strong, that it does not seem as if such very bad consequences would come of it. So it is done, and the bitter consequences come. It seems as if the lie that Satan told to Eve in the garden, when he tempted her to eat the forbidden fruit, "Thou shalt not surely die," still echoes through the world and bewitches men's ears so that they always underrate the guilt and punishment of sin; and although the lie has been exposed a thousand times, although in their own bitter experience men find its falsehood, yet they do not grow wiser, they still go on thoughtless, insensible to their greatest danger and their greatest evil, and when they stand on the shore of time, and hear God threatening eternal punishment hereafter to the sinner, they still set aside the warning with the same fatal insensibility. {333} If they are not Catholics, they deny or doubt the existence of hell; if they are Catholics, they think somehow they will escape it. Oh, my brethren, before you allow yourselves to act on this estimate of sin, so prevalent in the world, ask yourselves how it accords with God's estimate of sin. That is the true standard. God is Truth. He sees things as they are, and every thing is just what He considers it. He is our Judge, and it will not save us when we stand on trial at His bar to tell Him that we have rejected His standard and taken our own. What, then, is God's estimate of sin? Look at the Cross, and you have the answer. Let me for a moment carry you back to the scene and time of the Crucifixion. It is the eve of a great festival in the city of Jerusalem. It is the Parasceve, or Preparation of the Passover. On this day the Jews were required, each family by itself, to kill a lamb and eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. They were required to eat it standing, with loins girded, and with staves in their hands, because this feast was in memory of the sudden deliverance of their fathers from the bondage of Egypt, when God smote the first-born of the Egyptians with death, passed over the houses of the Israelites, and conducted them miraculously through the waters of the Red Sea. It was a great feast among the Jews, and always collected together a great multitude of strangers in the holy city. But on this occasion a new excitement was added to the interest of the holy city, for there was a public execution on Mount Calvary, and turbaned priests, and Pharisees with broad fringes on their garments, and scribes and doctors of the law, mingled in the throng of mechanics and laborers, and women and children, who hastened to the spot. The day is dark, but as you draw near the Mount, you see, high up in the air, the bodies of men crucified; and sitting on the ground, or standing in groups, talking and disputing among themselves, or watching in silence with folded arms, are gathered a vast multitude of spectators. {334} What is there in this execution thus to gather together all classes of the people? The punishment of crucifixion was inflicted only on slaves or malefactors of the worst kind, and two of the three that are hanging there are vulgar and infamous offenders. What is it, then, that gives such interest to this scene? It is He who hangs upon that cross, at whose feet three sorrowing women kneel. Read the title, it will tell you who He is. "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews." Yes, this is Jesus, the merciful and kind; He who went about doing good, healing all manner of sickness, and delivering all that were possessed with the devil; He who spoke words of truth and love. This is Jesus, the King of the Jews, whom a thousand prophecies fulfilled in him and a thousand miracles performed by Him pointed out as the promised Messias: Jesus, whom the Eternal Father, by a voice from heaven, had acknowledged as His own Son. "This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased." Why is this? Why is it that the just man perisheth? The apostle tells us: "Christ must _needs_ have suffered." He was the true Paschal Lamb that must die that we might go free. He was the victim of our sins. Pilate and Herod and the Jews were but the instruments by which all the consequences of our sins fell upon Him who came to bear them. "_Surely He hath borne our infirmities and carried our sorrows; and we have thought Him, as it were, a leper, and as one struck by God and afflicted. But He was wounded for our iniquities, He was bruised for our sins. The chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and by His bruises we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray, everyone hath turned aside into his own way, and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all_." [Footnote 79] [Footnote 79: Isia. liii. 4, 5, 6.] {335} Yes, every sin of every kind received its special reparation in the sufferings of Christ. His mouth is filled with vinegar and gall to atone for our luxury. His ear is filled with revilings to expiate the greediness with which we have drunk in poisonous flattery. His eyes languish because ours have been lofty, and His hands and feet are pierced with nails because ours have been the instruments of sin. He suffered death because we deserved it. He was accursed, because we had made ourselves liable to the curse of God, and hell had its hour of triumph over Him, because we had made ourselves its children. Nor was it our Lord's body alone that suffered. It would be a great mistake to suppose that His sacrifice was merely external. The chief part of man is his soul. St. Leo says that our Lord on the cross appeared as a penitent. It was not only that He suffered for the sins of men, but it was as if He had committed them. The horror of them filled His soul; sorrow for the outrage they had done to the Majesty and Holiness of God consumed Him. "My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death," He said. Afterward the evangelist says He began to be very heavy, and it was sinners that on the cross made Him bow His head and give up the ghost. He was not killed. His enemies did not take His life. The flood of sorrow for sin came into His soul, and overwhelmed Him. It was too much. His heart was broken. Oh, the weight of that sorrow! He bowed His head and gave up the ghost. Then sin was expiated. Then the work of man's atonement was completed. At last man had done adequate penance. At last sorrow for sin had reached its just proportion as an offence against God. Here, I say, we have a revelation of the evil of sin. God does nothing in vain: His works are as full of wisdom as they are of power. Since, therefore, Christ died for sin, the cross of Christ is the measure of sin. {336} "From the consideration of the remedy," says St. Bernard, "learn, O my soul, the greatness of thy danger. Thou wast in error, and behold the Son of the Virgin is sent, the Son of the Most High God is ordered to be slain, that my wounds may be healed by the precious balsam of His blood. See, O man, how grievous were thy wounds, for which, in the order of Divine wisdom, it was necessary that the lamb Christ should be wounded. If they had not been unto death, and unto eternal death, never would the Son of God have died for them. The cross of Christ is not only an altar of sacrifice, but a pulpit of instruction. From that pulpit, lifted up on high, Jesus Christ preaches a lesson to the whole world." The burden of the lesson is the evil of sin. "The law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." And yet, my brethren, the law was published afresh by Jesus Christ. Mount Calvary but repeats the message of Mount Sinai--nay, repeats it with more power. Here, indeed, God does not speak in thunders and lightnings, as He did there, but He speaks in the still small voice of the suffering Saviour. Oh, what meaning is there in those sad eyes as they bend down upon us! Oh, what power in those gentle words He utters! He does not say, "Thou shalt not commit adultery; thou shalt not steal; thou shalt not bear false witness." No. He cries to a guilty people, a people who have already broken the law, and He says to them: "See what you have done. See My thorn-crowned head. See My hands and feet. Look at Me whom you have pierced. Is it a light thing that could have reduced Me to such a state of woe? Is it a light thing that could have bound Me to this cross? Me, the Creator of all things, to whom you owe all life and liberty? Who by My word and touch have so often healed the sick and released them that were bound to Satan. They say of Me, 'He saved others, Himself He cannot save.' And they say truly. Here must I hang. Not the Jews have nailed Me to this cross, but My love, and thy sins. Yes, see in My sufferings your sin displayed. See in the penalty I pay the punishment you have deserved. See your guilt in My sorrow. Look at Me, and see what sin is in the presence of the All Holy God!" {337} Can any thing show more than this what a mysterious evil sin is, that it is an offence against God, an assault upon His throne, an attack upon His life, an evil all but infinite? All the other expressions of the evil of sin, the cries of misery which it has wrung from its victims, the warnings which natural reason has uttered against it, the tender lamentations with which the saints have bewailed it, the penalties with which God has threatened to visit it, all pale before the announcement that God sent His Son into the world to die for it. I do not wonder that, as the evangelist tells us, the multitudes who came together at the sight of our Saviour's crucifixion returned smiting their breasts. Oh, what an awakening of stupefied consciences there must have been that day! How many, who came out in the morning careless and thoughtless, went back to the city with anxious hearts, with a secret grief and fear within they had never felt before. I suppose that even the scribes and Pharisees, who had plotted our Saviour's death, felt, for the moment at least, a guilty fear. Why, even Judas, when he saw what he had done, repented, and went and hanged himself saying: "I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood." And this book of the Passion has been ever since the source from which penitents have drawn their best motives for conversion, and saints their strongest impulses to perfection. Here, on the cross, is the root of that uncompromising and awful doctrine about sin--the doctrine, I mean, that sin is in no case whatever to be allowed, that even the smallest sin for the greatest result can never be permitted; that it is an evil far greater than can be spoken or imagined; that it must never be trifled with, or made light of; that it is to be shunned with the greatest horror, and avoided, if need be, even at the cost of our life--which has always been so essential a part of Christianity. {338} And now, my brethren, it is because men forget the cross, because their minds no longer move on a Christian basis, that they make light of sin. There is a tendency in our day to do so. Crime--men acknowledge that, an offence against law, an offence against good order. Vice--they acknowledge that, a hurtful and excessive indulgence of passion; but _sin_, a creature's offence against God, that they think impossible. "What! can I, a frail creature," say they, "ignorant and passionate, can I do an injury to God? I err by excess or defect in my conduct; I bring evil on myself it is true; but what difference can that make to the Supreme Being? Can He be very much displeased at my follies? Will His serene Majesty in heaven be affected because I on this earth am carried too far by passions? Can He care what my religious belief is? or will He separate Himself from me eternally because I have happened to violate some law?" Such language is an echo of heathenism, and heathenism not of the best kind, for some heathens have had a doctrine about sin which approached very near to the Christian doctrine. It is moreover, a degrading doctrine; for, while it leaves a man his intellect and animal nature, it takes away his conscience. What is that conscience within us but a witness that God does concern Himself about us--that my heart is His throne, and that my everlasting destiny is union with Him. "Every one that is born of God," says the apostle, "doth not commit sin, for he cannot sin, because he is born of God." Not that sin is a physical impossibility with him, but it is in contradiction to his regenerate nature. In order, then, to soothe yourself into the belief that sin is not so very bad, that God cannot be very angry with you for it, you have got to tear conscience from your heart, you have got to give up the good gift, and the powers of the world to come, which came upon you at your baptism; and you have to give up all the brightest hopes of Christianity for the life hereafter. Nay, more, you have got to deny the cross, to deny our Lord's divinity, to deny His sufferings for sin, and thus to render yourself without faith as well as without conscience. {339} I conclude with the affectionate exhortation of St. John the Apostle. "_My children, these things I write to you that ye sin not." "All unrighteousness is sin_." Every breach of the moral law is a failure in that homage, that obedience, that service we owe to God. It is a direct offence against God. It is a thing exceedingly to be feared and dreaded. A wrong word spoken or a wrong action done has consequences which go far and wide. Do not say, you have sinned, but have done harm to no one. You have done harm to God, and you have certainly done harm to yourself. Do not sin. Do not commit mortal or venial sin. Do not make light of sin. Do not abide in sin. If you are in sin now, remember at this holy time to repent and turn back to God: and if your conscience tells you that you are now in the friendship of God, oh, let it be all your care to avoid sin. Fly from the face of sin. Fly from the approach of sin. Avoid the occasions of sin. Watch against sin, and pray continually, not to be led into sin: and when your hour of trial comes, when some strong temptation assails you, then be ready to say, as the prophet Joseph, "What! shall I do this wicked thing, and offend against God?" This is that fear of God which is the beginning of wisdom. This is the happiness of which the Psalmist spoke: "_Blessed is the man that hath not walked in the council of the ungodly, nor stood in the way of sinners, nor sat in the chair of pestilence; but his will is in the law of the Lord, and on His law he shall meditate day and night. And he shall be like a tree which is planted near the running waters, which shall bring forth its fruit in due season. And his leaf shall not fall off; and all, whatsoever he shall do, shall prosper._" [Footnote 80] [Footnote 80: Ps. i. 1-3.] -------------------------------- {340} Sermon XIII. Divine Calls And Warnings. (A Sermon For Lent.) "Seek ye the Lord while He may be found, call upon Him while He is near." --Isai. LV. 6. The Wise Man tells us that "_all things have their season, and in their times all things pass under heaven_." [Footnote 81] Certainly, it is so in the natural world. There is a time for the birds to migrate. "_The kite in the air knows her time, the turtle and the swallow and the stork observe the time of their coming_." [Footnote 82] [Footnote 81: Eccl. iii. 1.] [Footnote 82: Jer. viii. 7.] There is a time for seeds and shrubs to grow. Seed-time and harvest do not fail. There is a busy time and a slack time in the world of commerce. There is a time for education, a time when the mind is inquisitive and the memory retentive, and it is easy to acquire knowledge; and another time, when the powers of the mind, like the limbs of the body, seem to grow stiff and rigid, and can be employed only with difficulty. But does this law reach also to the supernatural world? Has the grace of God also its seasons and its times? I believe it has; and it is to this fact, so important in its bearing on our salvation, that I wish now to direct your attention. But you may ask me what I mean by saying that the grace of God has its special times and seasons. Are not all times alike to God? Is not God always ready to save the sinner, and to bestow the graces necessary to his salvation? Undoubtedly He is. We, Catholics, believe that God gives to every man living sufficient grace, that is, He gives him the grace to pray; and if he prays, God is ready to give him other and higher graces, which will carry him on to salvation; but, ordinarily speaking, men do not use this common grace, unless some special and particular grace is given which excites them to do so. {341} Now, it is of these special graces of which I speak, when I say that they have their times and their seasons. I refer to those Divine Calls and Warnings, those Providences, those sacred inspirations, which stir the heart beneath its surface, and bring it, for a time at least, in conscious contact with the Infinite and Eternal. These, I say, come and go. They have a law of their own. We cannot have them all the time. We cannot appoint a time, and say we will have them to-morrow, or next year. They are like the wind that blows; we hear the sound of it, but we cannot tell whence it comes and whither it goes. They are like the lightning, that shines from the east even unto the west. They come suddenly, and dart a flash of light upon our path, then they are gone. They are like the visit of Christ to the two disciples at Emmaus: as soon as their hearts began to burn within them, and they discovered who it was that talked with them, He vanished out of their sight. Certainly there are proofs enough that such is the law of God's dealings with the soul. If we look back at our own lives, do we not see that we have had our special times when Christ visited us? our times of grace? red-letter days in the calendar of our life? I know God's grace acts secretly; and oftentimes when we are under the strongest influence of grace, we are least conscious of it. But when the time is past and over, and we look back upon it, we can see that there was a Divine influence upon us, especially if we have corresponded to it. I think each one of us, if he looks back upon the past, will see clearly the times when he has been under the impulse of some unusual movement of the mind, the result of some special grace of God. Perhaps it came in the shape of some great affliction. You had a happy home. {342} The purest of earthly joys was yours--domestic happiness, perfect sympathy in gladness and in sorrow. But death entered your abode, and the loving voice was silenced, and the kindly eye was closed. And in that deep grief, in that darkness and loneliness Christ spoke to your sinking heart, saying, "Fear not;" and you came forth out of that affliction with a new strength, with purer aims, with a quietness and peace of heart which only suffering can give. Or, perhaps, the crisis in your history was your attendance on a "mission." You had lived in neglect of religion, almost complete. Confession was a bugbear to you. Years of sin and forgetfulness of God had hardened your conscience. But suddenly all was changed. You seemed a new man. Your faith was illuminated with a new brilliancy. Sin had a new horror. The string of your tongue was loosed, and oh, with what ease, with what fidelity and exactness, you made that dreaded confession! What comfort you derived from it! and with what energy and determination did you enter on the duties of a Christian life! Or, it might have been in less striking ways that grace did its work. It may have been a book, a word, an interior inspiration, some of the seasons of the holy Church, holy communion, some of the lesser changes of life, a fit of sickness, a violent temptation: these may have been the instruments which God made use of, from time to time, to convey special graces to your soul. Sometimes the aim of these graces was to arouse you out of some deeply-seated habit of sin; sometimes to draw your heart away from the world to heaven; sometimes it was a call to prayer; sometimes a warning of danger: in fine, for some purpose bearing on your salvation, there they are, those visits of grace in your past life, as distinct and unmistakable as any other part of your history. When we read the Bible story of such saints as Abraham, Moses, and Elias, what strikes us as most wonderful and most beautiful is the familiarity in which they lived with God, how God drew near to them and spoke to them. {343} Now, such passages have a parallel in the history of each one of us. There are times in our lives, and not a few such times, when God draws near to the soul, when He confronts it, makes special demands upon it, addresses it no longer in general, but particularly and individually; when He says to the soul, Go and do this, Do not do that, as unmistakably as when He said to Abraham: "_Go forth out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and out of thy father's house, and come into the land which I shall show thee_." [Footnote 83] [Footnote 83: Gen. xii. 1.] And if this be so, the mode in which we receive these divine communications must have a great deal to do with our guilt or innocence before God. We read in the Book of Judges, that on a certain occasion an angel of the Lord appeared to Manne and his wife, with a message from on high. He appeared to them in a human shape, and spoke with a human voice, and they did not know that he was an angel. It was not until they saw him ascend to heaven in the flame from the altar that they understood that they had been talking with one of the heavenly host. Then they said: "_We shall certainly die because we have seen God!_" [Footnote 84] [Footnote 84: Judges xiii. 22.] Now, there is a sense in which this exclamation is neither superstitious nor strange, as the expression, that is, of their anxiety lest in their ignorance they might have treated their heavenly visitor in some unseemly way. O my brethren, it is no light thing for God to draw near to a human soul. It is no light thing for Him to speak to us. When He speaks we cannot be as if He had not spoken. "His word shall not return to Him void." The relation between the Creator and the creature is such, that the moment He speaks our position is altered. When He calls we must either follow or refuse to follow; there is no neutrality possible. {344} Oh, what a thought, that if indeed God has spoken to us often in our past lives, if He has given us special calls and warnings, we must often have resisted Him! There are many of us, I fear, who have altogether too little conscience on this subject. A man comes to confession after an absence of several years. He confesses his more prominent sins against the divine commandments, but perhaps he does not even mention his failure to perform each year his Easter duty. And if the confessor calls his attention to it, he has nothing to say but, "Oh, yes, I neglected that." You see, he does not realize at all that God has been calling him from year to year, has met him again and again, and exhorted him to repent, and he has refused. Another man hears a sermon which thoroughly awakens his conscience. He sees in the clearest light the danger of his besetting sin. His conscience is stirred, he almost resolves to break off his sin, but he does not quite come to the point, he postpones his conversion, and, after a little, dismisses the subject from his mind. Now here again, you see, is a distinct resistance to grace. The man has not only continued in sin, but has continued in sin in spite of God's warning. Again, a person, free from the grosser forms of sin, has some radical fault of character; some fault which is apparent to everyone but himself; a deep obstinacy; a dangerous levity; an inveterate slothfulness; an overbearing temper; a domineering spirit--faults which are the source of innumerable difficulties--and he is plainly warned of these faults, but refuses to acknowledge them, strengthens himself in his self-deception, and clings to these faults as if they were a necessary part of his character. What is he doing, but frustrating the designs of God, despising His reproof, and rejecting the grace which was meant to make him so much better, so much happier, so much more useful? {345} Resisted grace! What is that but to withstand God to His face, and to say: _I will not serve?_ To resist grace, what is that but to despise the precious Blood of Christ. To obtain for us those graces, the Blood of Christ and all His sufferings were given, and without them we should have been left in our sins and miseries; and so to refuse these graces is to make light of Christ's most bitter Death and Passion. To resist grace, what is that but to refuse glory. For each grace of God has a corresponding degree of glory attached to it; and, if we refuse the one, we reject the other. The truth is, we forget too much God's personal agency in our salvation. We are on earth, and God is far away in heaven. He has indeed left us His Law, and He is coming to judge us at the last day, but He is not now a present, watchful, living, speaking God to us. We forget that "_He is not far from every one of us_." We forget that He is about our path, and about our bed; that He watches us with the eagerness and tenderness of a mother for her child; that He intensely desires our salvation; that He pleads with us, warns us, calls to us, stretches out His Hand to us all the day long. It is nothing that He Himself tells us He stands at the door and knocks; it is nothing that He calls to us from without, saying: "_Open to Me, My love, for my head is wet with dew, and My locks with the drops of the night;_" we open not; we heed Him not; we hear Him not. Oh! I believe, at the Judgment Day, many a man will be appalled to see how he has treated Christ. In the description which our Lord has given us of that day, He tells us that the wicked shall say, in answer to His reproofs: "_When saw we Thee hungry or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister to Thee?_" So, I believe, many will say: "O Lord, when did we refuse to hear Thee? When did we shut our hearts to Thy grace?" And He will answer: "When, at the voice of My preacher, you refused to forsake that sin; when, at the invitation of My Church, you refused to repent and amend; when, at the call of My Spirit, you refused to awake from your sloth, and follow after that perfection I demanded of you. In rejecting My agents, you have rejected Me. It was I; I, your God and your Saviour; I, your End and Reward, who walked with you on your way through life, who opened to you the Scriptures, and sought to enter in and tarry with you." {346} And, again, as resistance to grace is a special sin in itself, and a special matter about which we must render an account to God, so, when persisted in, it is the sure road to final impenitence and reprobation. Let me bring before your mind some of our Lord's emphatic teaching on this point. Toward the latter part of our Lord's life, in preaching to His disciples on a certain occasion, He used this parable: "A certain man had a fig-tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it and found none. And he said to the tiller of the vineyard: Behold, these three years I came seeking fruit on this fig-tree, and I find none. Cut it down therefore; why doth it take up the ground? But he answering, said to him: Lord, let it alone this year also, until I dig about it and dung it. And if happily it bear fruit: but if not, then after that thou shalt cut it down." [Footnote 85] [Footnote 85: St. Luke xiii. 6-9.] The same lesson which in this parable Christ conveyed to the ear, He addressed, about the same time, by a striking action, to the eye. As He was going from Bethany to Jerusalem, He saw a fig-tree by the wayside. "_And he came to it, and found nothing but leaves only, and He said to it: May no fruit grow on thee henceforward forever. And immediately the fig-tree withered away. And the disciples seeing it, wondered, saying: How is it presently withered away?_" [Footnote 86] [Footnote 86: St. Matt. xxi. 19.] The apostles could not fail to connect this action with the parable quoted above, and to understand them both as referring to the rejection of the Jewish people. For three years He preached to that people, warned them, and instructed them. Then, at last, when they refused to listen to Him, He withdrew from them His presence, grace, and blessing, and left them to the consequences of their unbelief and hardness of heart; left them to "wither away." {347} Listen to His lamentation over that guilty city. It is Palm Sunday. He is coming to the city in triumph. The crowds are shouting hosannas. At last, in His journey He comes to the Mount of Olives, whence the Holy City is full before His view. He looks at it; He thinks of all He has done to warn that people and convert them; He thinks of the ill success He has met with; He knows that he is going there for the last time, and that in a few days they will fill up the measure of their sins by nailing him to the cross; and, as he looked upon it, He wept over it, and said: "_If thou hadst known, and that in this thy day, the things that are for thy peace: but now they are hidden from thy eyes. For the days shall come upon thee, and thy enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and straiten thee on every side, and beat thee flat to the ground, and thy children who are in thee: and they shall not leave in thee a stone upon a stone, because thou hast not known the time of thy visitation_." [Footnote 87] Behold the end! a people resisting grace, until at last grace forsakes them, and they are left to their own impenitence and hardness of heart! And behold the fearful image of a soul which has resisted grace, until its final reprobation! [Footnote 87: St. Luke xix. 41-44.] Yes, my brethren, this is but the fearful image of what passes in many a soul. What does the Holy Scripture say? "_The man that with a stiff neck despiseth him that reproveth him shall suddenly be destroyed; and health shall not follow him._" [Footnote 88] [Footnote 88: Prov. xxix. 1.] God does not desire the death of the wicked. God never entirely ceases to strive with man. God never leaves a man altogether destitute of grace. But then God is not bound to impart special graces; and when He finds that these graces are uniformly rejected, when he meets only a hardened heart and a will obstinately bent on evil, He withholds them, or gives them less frequently. Meanwhile bad habits increase; sins multiply; the root of sin in the heart becomes deeper and stronger: years pass on in sin, and at last death comes. What kind of a death naturally follows such a life? {348} What kind of death often, in point of fact, follows such a life? I will tell you: an impenitent death; the death of the reprobate and the lost. Perhaps the man dies a sudden death. He may die in his bed, but die a sudden death for all that; for he may die out of his senses, and unable to do any thing whatever toward making his peace with God. Or, he may die in daring rebellion against God. It is possible for men to die so. It is possible for a man who has a deep enmity in his heart to refuse to give it up at the last hour; and it does happen. It is possible for a man who has dishonest wealth in his possession to clutch it even while his fingers are cold and blue in the last agony; and that does happen. It is possible for a man who has lived in shameful sins of unchastity to refuse to dismiss the partner of his guilt, though in five minutes his soul will be in hell; and that too has happened. Or, a man may die in despair. The devil may bring the fearful catalogue of his sins before his mind, in all their blackness and enormity; the remembrance of bad confessions and broken resolutions may paralyze his will; and the dreadful record of communions made in sacrilege may complete the temptation, and the poor soul turn away from the crucifix, turn away from the priest, and die pouring forth the ravings of despair. Or, on the contrary, he may die in presumption, in self-deceit. He may indeed go through the form of a confession, may receive the sacraments, and cheat himself into thinking it is all right, and be all the time a hypocrite, turning from his sins, not because he hates them, but because he can no longer enjoy them; and may receive the absolution of the priest only to hear it reversed the moment he gets into the presence of the unerring Judge, before whom are open all the secrets of the heart. {349} Death in some such form is, I say, the natural end of neglect of divine calls and warnings; and such a death is, in point of fact, not unfrequently the actual end of such a course. "_For_," says the apostle, "_the earth that drinketh in the rain, which cometh often upon it, and bringeth forth herbs useful for them by whom it is tilled, receiveth blessing from God. But that which bríngeth forth thorns and briers, is rejected, and very near to a curse, whose end is to be burnt_." [Footnote 89] [Footnote 89: Heb. vi. 7, 8.] And, O my brethren, if this is so, you who are putting off your conversion, putting off your return to God, to what a risk are you exposing your salvation! You say you will go to your confession at some other time. You are young; you imagine it will be easier in coming years; you think your passions will be weaker, your temptations less. But you are deceiving yourselves. You are counting on that which you do not know will ever be yours. You cannot promise yourself another year. How many who were here a year ago are now numbered with the dead! some of them as young as you are, and who a year ago felt as you do now. You count on special graces, and you have no right to count on them. You are deceiving yourselves, my brethren, you are deceiving yourselves. The freeness and abundance of grace, the _cheapness_ of grace, if I may so express myself, deceives you. God invites, and seems to plead and to beseech you to be saved, and you think it will always be so. You think a time is coming when God will save you in spite of yourselves. You know that you are not now on the road to heaven, you know that you are living in sin, but you think somehow God will interfere and make it right. We are told in the gospel that there was at Jerusalem a pool, around which usually lay a great multitude of sick and afflicted people, waiting for the moving of the water; for an angel came down at certain times and troubled the water, and whoever stepped in first after the troubling of the water was healed. {350} So it is with slothful, negligent, procrastinating Christians. They lie in their sins, waiting for some aid which will raise them to their feet, and make them whole without any effort of their own. Vain hope! They will die in their sins. "_You shall seek me_," said Christ, "_and you shall die in your sins_." [Footnote 90] [Footnote 90: St. John viii. 21.] These fearful words are addressed to you, O despiser of God's grace; to you, O young man, who deferrest conversion; to you, lover of pleasure, who will not break with your idols; to you, O drunkard, who will not throw away the intoxicating glass; to you, O avaricious man, who are getting rich by fraud or by the blood of souls. "_You shall die in your sins_." That is the end to which you are tending. As you have despised God, so He will despise you. You shall seek Him, but you shall not find Him. You shall call upon Him, but He will not hearken. At your dying hour, every thing will fail you. Prayer will die on your lips, unused to pray. Your mind, so long accustomed to love sin, will find it hard to turn from it with true contrition. The priest, ah! the priest cannot save you. He can only help you, can only give you the consolations of religion if you are rightly disposed. And how can you dispose yourself at that dreadful hour, when your mind is filled with a fearful looking for of judgment, when all your sins, and all the graces you have rejected, rise up before your guilty conscience? Oh! meet this danger. Do not run this risk. Resist no longer the grace of God. Behold, now once more God calls you to His fear. Behold, the days have come "to do penance, and to redeem your sins." God by His Holy Church makes you another offer. "_Turn unto me, and I will turn unto you_," saith the Lord. "_Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unjust man his thoughts, and let him return to the Lord, and he will have mercy on him_." [Footnote 91] "_To-day, then, if you will hear His voice, harden not your hearts_." Resolve to prepare for your Easter confession. If you came last Easter and have persevered, bless God, and come now. If you have fallen away, see where the error was, and learn a deeper humility, and make a stronger purpose, and come again. [Footnote 91: Isai. lv. 7.] {351} And, oh if you have stayed away in former years, and are purposing to stay away this Easter, too--or if you are too negligent to have formed any purpose; if you are just floating on, heedless and careless, then know, that for all these things God will bring you into judgment, that the severest part of your account will be for graces resisted and rejected; and that you are preparing for yourselves the retribution threatened in those dreadful words: "_Because I called and you refused: I stretched out My Hand; and there was none that regarded. You have despised all my counsel, and have neglected my reproofs. I also will laugh in your destruction: and will mock, when that shall come upon you which you feared. When sudden calamity shall fall upon you, and destruction as a tempest shall be at hand: when tribulation and distress shall come upon you: Then they shall call upon Me, and I will not hear: they shall rise in the morning, and shall not find Me: Because they hated instruction, and received not the fear of the Lord, nor consented to My counsel, but despised all My reproof. Therefore they shall eat the fruit of their own way, and shall be filled with their own devices_." [Footnote 92] [Footnote 92: Prov. i. 24-31.] ---------------------------------- {352} Sermon XIV. The Tomb Of Christ, The School Of Comfort. (Easter Sunday.) "Jesus saith to her: Woman why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?" St. John xx. 15. How full of tenderness are these words! They were spoken on the first Easter Day. This weeping woman was Mary Magdalene, she that had been a great sinner, and was converted, and loved our Lord so much. She had been at His Cross: she is now at His Tomb, with her spices and ointments to anoint His body. But our Lord's body was not in the grave. The stone is rolled away. The tomb is open, and He is not there. And yet He is not far away. Risen from the dead to a new and mysterious life, He hovers about the garden, and draws near to her as she approaches the sepulchre. At the outburst of her grief on finding the sepulchre empty, He breaks silence. "_Woman why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?_" These are the first words our Lord spoke after His Resurrection. They are the same words that were used by the angel a little before. They seem to be the antiphon, the key-note which Heaven has given us to guide our Easter thoughts. No tears on Easter Day. Nay, no tears any more of the bitter, hopeless kind, for Christ is Risen. St. Mary Magdalene at the tomb of Christ represents Humanity sitting in the region and shadow of death. Now to-day Christ comes forward, and speaks comfortable words to the human race. "_Why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?_" He challenges us. "I, thy risen Saviour," He seems to say, "am thy consoler. What grief is there that I have not removed?" And is it so? Are all our real sorrows removed or alleviated by the resurrection of Christ? Yes; heavenly messengers have appeared bringing good tidings. Christ is risen. {353} "The stroke of our wound is healed. "_To them that sat in the region of the shadow of death, light is sprung up." "The Day-Spring from on high hath visited us._" The earth feels herself to be lightened of her darkness, and in every church in Christendom the cry is again and again repeated: "_Alleluia: Praise the Lord_." It would be too long to attempt to show how every human sorrow can gather consolation from the Resurrection of Christ. All I can hope to do this morning is to show how the three heaviest troubles of our race--doubt, guilt, and bereavement--find their relief in that event. I call doubt, guilt, and bereavement the heaviest woes of man. In regard to the first, religious doubt, many of you have had no experience. Brought up in the Catholic Church, with her teaching always sounding in your ears, you have never known what it was to have real doubts about religious truth. But there are others who have known that anguish by experience. The soul of man thirsts for truth. Deep in every man's soul is a desire for God. It may be stifled, it may be silenced for a time by passion, but there it is, that stretching forth to the Fountain of Goodness and Beauty, that longing to know Him and His will. In generous souls, in souls that are conscious of their dignity, the finding of truth is an indispensable necessity. The search for truth is an occupation that must be pursued with whatever pain and trouble, and until it be found life is really insupportable. O my brethren, I do believe that there are souls around us who hunger for truth as a famishing man hungers for food. They labor and toil harder than any day-laborer. They are like men exploring a dark and many-chambered mine. They go with stooping head, and the sweat rolls off their foreheads, and their feet stumble, and with their dim light they can see but a little way before them, and they are in danger of losing their way. {354} No doubt they learn something; for God is everywhere; God is in our hearts, and in Nature, and in men, and in books, and in the past, and we cannot look for Him anywhere without finding His footprints; but we want more than this. We want God to speak to us. We sigh for the lost happiness of Eden, where God walked with our first parents in "the cool of the day." This is what men need. They need God to _reveal_ Himself to them, to give them certainty in religious truth, at least on the most important points. Everywhere men have been seeking this. "_Oh that God would rend the heavens and come down!_" [Footnote 93] [Footnote 93: Isaias lxiv. 1.] This is the cry of humanity, that God would speak to us and make us hear His voice. And they have sought for this voice. They have strained their ears to listen to it. They have sought it of the moon and stars as they moved through the heavens by night; they have sought it in the whispers of the grove; they have sought it at the lips of men of science and pretended religious teachers. But they have met in such sources only with disappointment or deceit. And yet that voice has always been in the world. It spoke at first feebly and low, but louder and louder as time went on, until Jesus Christ came and "spake as never man spake." He claimed to be the Son of God, taught us clearly about God and our destiny, promised His unfailing protection to His Church in transmitting His doctrine to all generations, and confirmed the truth, both of His Teaching and Promises, by rising from the dead according to His Word. To Him, therefore, belongs the glorious title: "_The Faithful and True Witness, the First-Begotten of the Dead._" [Footnote 94] [Footnote 94: Apoc. i. 5.] Eighteen hundred years have passed away, but His Word has lost none of its authority, and now this morning we can say, as to every point of the Catholic creed, with as much certainty as on the morning of the Resurrection the Apostles felt in regard to all the words of Christ--"_I believe_." O glorious privilege of a Catholic! "_Rejoice_," says the prophet, "_and be glad in the Lord, O children of Sion, because He hath given to you a Teacher of Justice_." [Footnote 95] [Footnote 95: Joel ii. 23.] {355} Obedient to this inspired injunction, the Church requires the Creed to be sung at her great solemnities. It is not enough to recite it. No; it must be sung, sung in full chorus, accompanied with instruments of music. And fitting it is and right. Worship would be incomplete without it. Litanies and hymns are the means by which the heart does homage to God; but CREDO, "_I believe_," that is the intellect's cry of joy at its emancipation from the bondage of doubt. Oh, how mistaken are those who imagine that the articles of the Creed are like fetters on the mind. On the contrary, they are to us the evidences of that liberty wherewith Christ has made us free. We reject temptations against faith, as attacks on our happiness. We feel that to doubt the doctrine of faith would be to doubt the Son of God, and to doubt Him would be to discredit our own soul. Be firm, then, my brethren in faith. Remember that faith is part of your birthright and privilege as Christians. The Sepulchre of Christ is the gate to the Palace of Truth. See, the door is open. The stone is rolled away. Oh, enter and be blest. With Thomas look at His wounded side and say, "_My Lord and my God!_" With Magdalene fall at His feet and call Him "_Master_." Listen to His words and doubt no more. "_Being no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, but holding the truth in charity, in all things grow up in Him who is the Head, Christ_." [Footnote 96] [Footnote 96: Eph. iv. 14.] Again, as doubt is the bondage of the intellect, so guilt is the burden of the conscience. Who can give peace to a soul that has sinned? The prophet Micheas well describes the anxiety of such a soul. "_What shall I offer to the Lord that is worthy? Wherewith shall I kneel before the High God? Shall I offer holocausts unto Him, and calves of a year old? Will He be appeased with thousands of rams? Shall I give my first-born for my wickedness, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?_" [Footnote 97] [Footnote 97: Mich. vi. 6.] {356} Now, must we for ever go on in this uncertainty? Shall we never, after we have sinned, have again the assurance that we are pardoned? Must we go trembling all our days, and be terror-stricken at the hour of death? Are we left to our own fancyings and feelings to decide whether we are pardoned or not? Shall we never _hear_ that sweet consoling word: "_Go in peace, thy sins are forgiven thee?_" Yes, Christ is risen. He is come from the grave "with healing in His wings." He is come as a conqueror, with the trophies of victory. Hear what He says of Himself: "_I am He that liveth and was dead, and behold I live forever, and have the keys of Hell and Death_." [Footnote 98] [Footnote 98: Apoc. i. 18.] He has come back from the grave with the keys of Hell in His hand. While He was yet among men He had promised to give those keys to St. Peter and the Apostles, but it was only after His death, by which He had merited our pardon, and after His Resurrection, by which His Father had attested His acceptance of the Ransom, that He proceeded solemnly to deliver them. "_Now when it was late_," says St. John, "_that same day_" (Easter day) "_Jesus came and stood in the midst and said to them: Peace be to you. As the Father hath sent Me, I also send you. When He had said this, He breathed on them: and He said to them, Receive the Holy Ghost: Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained_." [Footnote 99] [Footnote 99: St. John xx. 19.] Do you hear this, O sinner? He offers you pardon, and He assures you of it. All He asks of you is a true sorrow; all He asks is a fervent and true purpose to offend Him no more. Come, confessing your sins; come, forsaking them, and He has promised that His priest shall declare to you, in His name: "I absolve thee from thy sins." {357} He has promised to ratify the sentence in heaven. Can you doubt His power? Can you doubt His truth? No: He has risen for our justification. "_What shall we say then to these things? If God be for us, who shall be against us? Who shall lay anything to the charge of the elect of God? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that shall condemn? It is Christ that died, yea also Who is risen again_." [Footnote 100] [Footnote 100: Rom. viii. 33.] Do not look on us, the ministers of His grace, weak and frail as we are. Look at the Saviour. Look at Him dying on the cross, a ransom for our sins. Look at Him, rising from the dead on the third day, having accomplished a complete victory over our spiritual enemies, and bringing to us life and pardon. See Him in His divine power, instituting sacraments by which that life and pardon might be communicated to us. Believe His word, trust His merits, have recourse to His sacraments, and thus, "_being justified by faith have once more peace with God, and rejoice again in hope of the Glory of God_." [Footnote 101] [Footnote 101: Rom. v. 1.] Come, forgiven sinner, lift up your head, for God hath cleansed you. Be happy: be a Christian: be a man once more, for you are clothed again in the garments of innocence and sanctity. It is no incomplete and grudging pardon He has given you. Though your sins "were as scarlet," they are now as "white as snow;" though they were "red like crimson," they are "as white as wool." "He hath cast your sins into the bottom of the sea." They shall never be mentioned to you again. He has even restored to you again the merits you had acquired in days of innocence, and lost again by sin. He has "_restored to you the years which the locust and the caterpillar and the mildew and the palmer-worm hath eaten_." [Footnote 102] Let, then, gratitude fill your heart, let joy be written on your face, and let holy resolves for the future correspond to the mercy you have received. [Footnote 102: Joel ii. 25.] {358} Yes, my brethren, Christ at His Sepulchre satisfies the intellect and heals the conscience--and He also silences another cry of human woe. It is that of which the prophet spoke when he said: "_A voice was heard of lamentation, of mourning and weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refused to be comforted, because they are not_." [Footnote 103] [Footnote 103: Jer. xxxi. 15.] Oh! it is hard to see one we love die, but is it not harder to our sensitive nature to bury them? That makes us feel what we have lost. Reason tells us that the soul is immortal, but we need something more for our comfort. The heart asks, "What is to become of the body that I loved so much?" Talk of the lifeless and speechless corpse. It is not lifeless and speechless to me. Those cold lips smile the old smile on me, and whisper in my ear a thousand words of kindness. And oh, to part with that! To lose even that sad comfort! To have the body of the dead taken away from us, is not that a grief? Such was Mary Magdalene's sorrow. "_They have taken away my Lord out of the Sepulchre, and I know not where they have laid Him_." [Footnote 104] [Footnote 104: St. John xx. 2.] She could bear any thing but that. She had borne up at our Lord's death. It was a bitter thing, but then she stood at the foot of the cross on which He hung, and she could look up at Him and see Him. She had borne up on Friday evening, for then she was busy preparing her spices and ointments. She had borne up on Saturday, for she was thinking all day of her visit to the grave next morning. But on Sunday, to go and find His body gone--never again to look upon those lips that had spoken peace to her soul; never again to kiss with affection those sacred feet,--oh, this was too much. And Mary stood at the Sepulchre weeping. But lo! what voice is that which speaks: "_Woman, why weepest thou?_" It is the voice of Jesus himself, of Jesus whom she mourns. Himself, flesh and blood, the very Jesus whom she had known and loved. {359} So, my brethren, as you weep at the graves of your friends, those very friends stand near you and say, "Why weepest thou?" Weep not for me. Weep not for me, childless mother! Weep not for me, my orphan child! Weep not for me, my sorrowing friend! Leave my body awhile in the grave. It is not dead but sleeps. "_For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and in the last day I shall arise out of the earth. And I shall be clothed again with my skin and in my flesh I shall see my God: Whom I myself shall see, and my eyes shall behold, and not another's_." [Footnote 105] [Footnote 105: Job xix. 25.] Touch me not yet: wait awhile, and you shall see my hands and feet, that it is I myself. "_For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all shall be made alive. But every one in his own order; the first fruits Christ, then they that are of Christ, who have believed in His coming_." [Footnote 106] [Footnote 106: I. Cor. xv. 22.] Strange it is that our comfort and joy should come out of the grave. But so it is. By the resurrection of Christ all our woes are healed. Our new life springs from the sepulchre of Christ. Christ is risen we believe. Christ is risen; we are pardoned. Christ is risen; death loses its power to separate Christians. Mourn then no longer, my brethren, it is Easter. Believe, and rejoice. Forsake your sins, and rejoice. Bury your dead in Christ, and rejoice in hope. The former things are passed away; all things are become new. "_The winter is now passed; the rain is over and gone. The flowers have appeared; the time of pruning is come; the voice of the dove is heard in our land_." [Footnote 107] [Footnote 107: Cant. ii. 11, 12.] It is Easter. This is that day "which the Lord hath made." This is the Lord's Passover. The Red Sea is crossed: we are delivered out of Egypt, and are marching to the promised land. It is Easter. Mary has been at the sepulchre early this morning and has seen the Saviour. Jesus has appeared in the midst of the disciples, saying, "Peace be with you." Some have known Him in breaking of bread. To some He has drawn near as they walked along and discoursed together. Some that were sad He has comforted. How has it been with each of you? {360} Has this day been a day of joy to you? Has it awakened you to new life, new hopes, new aspirations? or does it find you cold, dead to spiritual things, perhaps not even in the grace of God, and in love with your sins! Oh, at least now awake to the hopes and desires of a Christian. "_The day is far spent; it draweth toward evening_." Let not this glorious feast depart and leave you as you are. While angels and the Son of God are abroad on the earth, scattering grace and consolation, do not you alone remain unblest. Claim your privileges as a Christian, and, risen with Christ in baptism, seek those things that are above, where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God. And you, faithful souls who have done your duty, who have found in this Feast a joy and comfort that passes understanding, know that the gladness of Easter is but an earnest of another day, the great day of eternity, which will open on the morning of resurrection, and which knows no evening; which has no need of the sun, for God is the light thereof; when God shall wipe away all tears; and death shall be no more; and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. -------------------------- Sermon XV. St. Mary Magdalene at the Sepulchre. (Easter Sunday. [Footnote 108]) [Footnote 108: The substance of this sermon is from St. Thomas of Villanova.] "But He rising early the first day of the week, appeared first to Mary Magdalene." --St. Mark XVI. 9. {361} St. Mary Magdalene may be called the Saint of the Resurrection. She is intimately associated with that event in the pages of the Scriptures, and in the minds of Christians. Indeed, the Gospel account of the Resurrection embraces an almost continuous record of the actions of this holy woman from the Crucifixion until Easter day; and I have thought that in tracing that record this morning, while I am presenting to you the great mystery of to-day's celebration, I shall at the same time be pointing out to you the means of obtaining those graces which our risen Lord has come to impart. St. Mary Magdalene's history for these three days is a history of love. Every thing she does, every thing she says, is a proof of her love for our Lord. And the distinguishing favors our Lord bestowed on her are a pledge of what we may look for to-day, if we imitate her love. First, then, we are told, that when our Lord was taken down from the cross, and laid in the new tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, she went "and saw how the body was laid." One might have thought it would have satisfied her to stand by the cross, through those fearful hours, till it was an over, and then to have returned home. No; love will see the last. She will follow on to the grave. It is true the dead bodies of our friends feel not our kindness, but still we want them treated with tenderness and care. So Mary follows the corpse to the burial, and, when it is laid in the sepulchre, she looks in to see how it is laid. Not a superficial look: no, an earnest scrutinizing gaze. She sees how the drooping head lays on its stony pillow, and how the pierced hands and feet are disposed. She makes a picture of it all in her own mind, and "then returns to the city to prepare spices and ointments." Now, there was no need at all of this. Nicodemus had come, as soon as Pilate had given the disciples possession of our Lord's body, and brought "a mixture of myrrh and aloes, a hundred pounds weight." But Mary does not care for that. Others may do what good works they choose, but she will not be cheated of hers. And what she does she will do prodigally, too. It was her way. {362} You remember how, at the house of Simon, she brought her alabaster box of ointment, and broke it, and scattered it over the feet of Jesus, so that the whole house was filled with the perfume; and how Judas found fault with her, saying, "This ointment might have been sold for more than three hundred pence, and given to the poor." Our Lord attempted then to excuse her extravagance, saying, "She hath done this against the day of MY burial." No, she would do it then, and she would do it at His burial, too. Nicodemus and "the holy women" may bring as much as they like, but she will do her part. Precious and costly shall her offering be as she can make it, not because He needs it, but because her heart is straitened to express its love. It is her pleasure to spend and be spent for Him whom she loved; and all she can do is too little. But while Mary's love was impulsive and generous, it was obedient. "She rested on the Sabbath day, according to the commandment." Here is a test of true love. We want to do something very much; we think the motive is good; but there comes a providential obstacle in the way. We cannot do it just now. We cannot do it just in the way we want. And too often our love is not pure enough for this test. We murmur and complain, and commit a thousand disobediences, and show how much self-love had to do with our undertakings. It was not so with this holy woman. She waited all the Sabbath day. It was God's command. The seventh day was kept by the Jews with a ceremonial strictness that forbade all work; and she would keep the commandment to the letter. So not a step would she take on the Sabbath, not even to the Saviour's grave. I am sure that Sabbath was a long one to her. Never was time's foot so heavy. Never did the hours go so slow. Never were the sacred services so tedious. A thousand times she goes to the window to see if the shadows were getting long, and each time it seems to her that the sun is standing still. O loving heart! loving in what she did not do, as well as in what she did. She will not take liberties with her conscience. {363} She will not be officious or intrusive. She will not please herself on pretence of doing something for God. And so, though her heart is at the sepulchre all day, though she yearns to go thither, not a foot will she stir, not a hand will she lift, till she knows that the fitting time is come. Her love was that _orderly charity_ of which the Holy Scripture speaks. [Footnote 109] [Footnote 109: Cant. ii. 4.] But the longest day has an end, and the end of that Sabbath at last arrived. The sun sinks beneath the horizon. The evening sacrifice is over. Darkness falls upon the temple aisles, and the last worshipper departs. By degrees the streets of Jerusalem become silent and deserted. It is night, a glorious night; for the full paschal moon pours down its floods of light upon the holy city. And now the good woman, laden with her ointments and spices, sets out for the sepulchre. Alone, or only with a feeble woman like herself, she goes out late at night, and whither? To a garden outside the city, where a band of soldiers keep watch over a grave, closed with a great stone, and sealed with the seal of state. Is she not afraid? Docs she not run a thousand risks? Even supposing she reaches the place in safety, will she be permitted to approach the grave? Who will roll the stone from the door? Who will dare to break the seal? O holy boldness of love! which, when a duty is to be done, asks no questions, and knows no difficulties. O love! stronger than death, despising torments and casting out fear! Here is the wisdom of the saints. Here is the secret of all the great things that have been done for God. There is a higher wisdom and a higher prudence than the wisdom and the prudence of this world. There is a trust in God which is ever regarded as daring and enthusiastic, but which God justifies, and men themselves are forced at last to applaud. {364} Such were the sentiments with which St. Mary Magdalene went to the sepulchre. But here a new circumstance demands our attention. She set out, we are told, "while it was yet dark." It was night, the dead of night, when she left her house, and she did not reach the sepulchre till "the sun was risen." How did this happen? The place in which our Lord was crucified was, as the evangelist tell us, "near the city." And, one reason why Pilate suffered the disciples to lay our Lord's body in Joseph's tomb was, because it was close to the place of crucifixion, and the body could be laid there before the Passover began. What, then, delayed St. Mary Magdalene so long? What is the meaning of this? so prompt and eager in setting out, so tardy in arriving? Love, again, my brethren, is the explanation. She had to pass through the city. Her road was what is called the "Way of Sorrows," which Jesus took when He was led to Calvary, and along which she had followed Him on Good Friday. How could she go fast? Every step brought its own memories. There was the house of Caiaphas. There the judgment-hall of Pilate. There the balcony at which Jesus had been presented to the crowd, clad in a purple robe and crowned with thorns. There stood the pillar at which He had been scourged, and there was the spot at which he had fallen under the weight of His cross, and it was given to Simon of Cyrene to carry. No, her course was a pilgrimage. Each step was a holy station, at which she stopped awhile to pray and call to mind the events of that dreadful morning. And when she came to Calvary, where the cross was still standing, and threw herself on the ground to kiss the sod still wet with the Saviour's Blood, the hours pass by unheeded, for Jesus hangs there again, and Mary, His mother, is by her side, and each tender word, each look of sorrow is again repeated. Love meditates. Love lingers in the footsteps of its beloved, and the shortest, sweetest hours it finds on earth are hours of prayer. What wonder, then, that Mary kneels, embracing the foot of the cross, in perfect forgetfulness of all else besides, until, as she raises her eyes to cast an adoring glance, she sees that the cross is gilded by the red gleam of the coming Easter sun--that it is already day. Thus recalled to herself, she kisses that sacred tree for the last time, tears herself from it, and hurries off to fulfil the work she had in hand. {365} And she arrived at the sepulchre just in time, or rather God was there to meet her to reward her love. For the moment she arrived, "there was a great earthquake, and an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and coming, rolled back the stone, and sat upon it. And his countenance was like lightning and his raiment as snow. And for fear of him the guards were struck with terror, and became as dead men. And the angel, answering, said to the woman: 'Fear not you, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for He is risen, as He said. Come and see the place where the Lord was laid. And go quickly, tell his disciples that He is risen, and behold, He will go before you into Galilee. And they went out quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy, running to tell his disciples.' [Footnote 110] [Footnote 110: St. Matt. xxviii. 2-8.] See her running from the sepulchre as fast as she had so lately run to it; for love easily changes its employment at the voice of its beloved. She had come to anoint the body of Jesus; there is no need of that now, for Jesus is alive; but still there is something to do for Jesus--to tell His disciples. Peter, James, John, and the other disciples are at home, sorrowful and fearful. He whom they loved and trusted is no more; and they, whither shall they go? Besides this, there was an additional sorrow. They had forsaken their good Master in the day of His distress; Peter had even denied with an oath that he knew Him; and they now sat depressed and anxious in that upper chamber in which so lately they had eaten the Passover with Him. But He is alive! and Mary knows it! Shall she wait to see Him? {366} No, she must go _quickly_ and tell His disciples. "This commandment have we from God, that He that loveth God, love his brother also." [Footnote 111] [Footnote 111: I. St. John iv. 21.] And Mary leaves the sepulchre, leaves Christ, to go and carry the joyful news to His afflicted brethren. With nimble feet, with eager countenance, she returns to the city, seeks out the well-known house, and appears in the midst of the sorrowing group, with the exclamation: "Jesus is alive! He is risen from the dead!" Alas! poor Magdalene! "Her words seemed to them as an idle tale." To us, familiar with the doctrine and proofs of our Lord's Resurrection, it is wonderful how slow the apostles were to believe it. No doubt, their slowness to believe is a benefit to us, because it was the occasion of multiplying the proofs. Perhaps, too, it was not unnatural; for faith does not come all at once. There is often a period between doubt and faith, a period of inconsistency; in which one is at one moment all Christian, and at another believes nothing. Certainly it was so with the apostles on Easter Day, and Mary Magdalene seems to have shared their infirmity. The apostles, as soon as they had heard the news that Christ has risen, set out for the sepulchre. When they came to the place, they found indeed the grave open, and the linen cloths, in which the Lord's body had been wrapped, lying in it, and the guard gone; but Him they saw not. Mary Magdalene accompanied them, and when she saw neither the Lord Himself, nor the angel who had spoken to her, and when she saw the incredulous looks of the disciples, she herself began to doubt. But though her faith was weak, her love was strong; and she stood at the door of the sepulchre, weeping. At least she will not give up the idea of finding the Lord's body, and carrying out her first intention of embalming it. So she stands at the sepulchre, and looks in. {367} She had looked in many times already; she had every corner of it by heart; but she looks in again. She will see the place where the Lord lay, if she cannot see Himself: and lo! this time she sees a new sight. There are two angels, in white, sitting, one at the head and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. Angels again! but this time not angels of fear, with a terrible countenance, as the first had been, but angels of comfort and peace. And they spoke to her: "Woman, why weepest thou? Why dost thou seek the living among the dead?" One would have thought it was something to see an angel, and hear his voice: but this good woman makes very little of it. No angel will satisfy her now. "They have taken away my Lord," she replies, "and I know not where they have laid Him." Is not this grief enough to have lost a Lord, a Friend, a Saviour, such as Jesus was, and not even to have so much as His lifeless body left on which to lavish her endearments. O my brethren, no created thing can satisfy the soul. I say not, though we had all the treasures of earth, but though we had all the treasures of heaven; though angels and saints were ours; though we had visions and revelations; yet all would be nothing if we had not God. Heaven would be hell without Him, and at the very gate of Paradise the soul would weep and say, "They have taken away my Lord." But at this point a new actor appears on the scene. A man approaches, and addresses Magdelene in the same words that the angels had used: "Woman, why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?" She takes him for the gardener, and suddenly a suspicion seizing her that he might know something of the treasure she had lost, turned upon him and said: "Sir, if thou hast borne Him away, tell me where thou hast laid Him; and I will take Him away." She does not answer his question. She does not tell him whom she is seeking. For, as St. Bernard observes, "Love imagines everyone is as full of the object of its love as it is itself;" and so she says: "If thou hast borne _Him_ away, tell me where thou hast laid _Him_, and I will take _Him_ away." {368} No need to mention His Name. All things knew it. The sun publishes it. It is written on the leaves. The wind utters it. It is the Name that is above every name--the Name at which every knee must bow. "Tell me where thou hast laid Him, and I will go and carry Him away." What, you! a weak woman! Can you carry away a heavy corpse? Yes, she can; and they that doubt it do not know how strong love is, how great a weight it can carry, what hard things it can do, and how it makes a man do what is above nature, or, rather, how, with faith and grace, it brings out the power that is in these human hearts of ours, and awakens their latent energies. And now Jesus can restrain Himself no longer; for Jesus it is who now speaks with her. She had charged Him with taking away the Sacred Body, and she was right. He it was who had taken it from the grave. "I have power to lay it down," said He, "and I have power to take it up again. [Footnote 112] [Footnote 112: St. John x. 18.] Yes, it was Jesus. He had seen her tears, listened to her complaint, watched her efforts, and now the time had come when He would disclose Himself to her. He said to her: "Mary!" Oh! what voice is that? What sweet and tender memories it wakes up! The home of Bethany, the banqueting-hall of Simon, Mount Calvary, all are brought before her. She turns and looks keenly at the speaker, and one look is enough. It is He, the same--the very same who spoke pardon and peace to her soul, when first, a guilty woman, she had washed His feet with her tears. It is Jesus. He lives again. And, with her accustomed salutation, she kneels before Him, and says: "Rabboni!" which is to say, Master! {369} How much is expressed in this brief interview. "Mary!" It is a word of gentle reproach. Mary, dost thou not remember My words--My promise--that I would rise again? Mary,--dost thou not believe My angels, bearing testimony to My Resurrection? Mary, whose brother Lazarus I have raised from the grave, dost thou not think that I am as powerful to rise from the dead as to restore life to others? "_Mary!_" It is a term of affection. As much as to say: I am risen; but I am still thy friend. I do not forget the past, and now, on this glorious morning of My Resurrection, I tell thee that I know thee by thy name, and love thee with the same love with which I loved thee in the days of My sorrow'. And, "_Master!_" is her fitting reply. "Master of my heart, whom only I have loved!" "Master of my faith, whom now' I acknowledge as indeed risen from the dead!" "Master, whose Truth and Power I have been so slow to understand!" "Master, whom all my future life shall honor and obey!" O happy Magdalene! Her search is ended. Her tears are dried. O joy beyond all thought! She has seen Him, and talked with Him! O my brethren, need I say more? Has not St. Magdalene preached an Easter sermon? Love is the way to keep this feast. Love is the way to faith and joy. It is the way to faith, for our Lord says: "If any man shall do the will of God he shall know of the doctrine, whether it is of God." [Footnote 113] [Footnote 113: St. John vii. 17.] It is said of Magdalene that she loved much because she was pardoned much; I say she believed much because she loved much. And love is the way to joy. Who are they that are truly happy on this day? They who with Magdalene have sought Jesus; they who by a true confession and a devout communion have united themselves to the risen Saviour, and conversed with him in sweet familiarity. For to them our Lord speaks and says: "Fear not, I have called thee by thy name, thou art mine. I am the Lord, thy Saviour, thy Redeemer, the mighty One of Jacob. Behold My hands and feet, that it is I Myself! Fear not, Israel my chosen, and Jacob mine elect, for I am He that liveth and was dead, and have the keys of hell and death. And behold! I am alive for ever more!" ----------------------------- {370} Sermon XVI. The Preacher, The Organ Of The Holy Ghost. (Fourth Sunday After Easter.) "When He the Spirit of Truth shall come, He will lead you into all truth." St. John XVI. 13. I need hardly say that the words "_all truth_" in this promise mean all truth relating to our salvation. It is no part of our Lord's plan to teach us the truths of natural science. He leaves us to discover these by our own intelligence. He comes to teach us faith and morals--what we are to believe, and what we are to do, in order to be saved. He did this while He was on earth by His conversations with His disciples, and by His public sermons to the Jews; but He promised that this work should be carried on after His death more extensively and systematically. Thus, in the words of the text: "When He the Spirit of Truth shall come He will lead you into all truth." [Footnote 114] And again: "_The Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, Whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things and will bring all things to your mind whatsoever I shall have said to you_."[Footnote 115] It cannot but be a matter of interest to inquire in what manner this promise has been fulfilled. [Footnote 114: St. John xvi. 13.] [Footnote 115: St. John xiv. 26.] I answer, the Holy Ghost leads us into all truth necessary to our salvation by the public preaching of the Word of God. If we examine our Lord's words attentively, we shall be led to the conclusion that the ministry of the Holy Ghost to which He alludes is a public ministry. His own ministry was a public one, and in promising that the Holy Ghost should carry it on and complete it, He leads us to anticipate that the ministry of the Holy Ghost would also be public. {371} And His own subsequent language shows that this is really so, and acquaints us with the way in which this ministry is to be exercised. Just before our Lord's Ascension He met the Apostles on a mountain in Galilee, and said to them: "_All power is given to Me in heaven and in earth. Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations; baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost; teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you; and behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world_." [Footnote 116] August and extensive as this commission was, it did not by itself qualify the Apostles for their great work. They were to wait in Jerusalem "till they were endued with power from on high." This "power" was the Holy Ghost which actually did descend on them at the feast of Pentecost. Here we find a company of men commissioned by Christ to teach the world in His name, and empowered by the Holy Ghost for that purpose. We find these men afterward everywhere claiming to be the organs of the Holy Ghost. Thus, at the council of Jerusalem, they did not hesitate to publish their decrees with this preface: "_It hath seemed good to the Holy Ghost and to us_." [Footnote 117] And St. Paul tells the bishops of Ephesus, that they were placed over the Church "_by the Holy Ghost_." [Footnote 118] [Footnote 116: St. Matt. xxviii. 18-20.] [Footnote 117: Acts xv. 28.] [Footnote 118: Acts xx. 28.] Now, who does not see here the realization and fulfilment of the great promise of Christ which I have quoted as my text? That teaching of the Holy Ghost which was to follow His, which was to bring all things to remembrance which He had said, which was to abide forever, and which was to make known all necessary truth, was the teaching of the Apostles and their successors. It is the teaching of the Holy Ghost, because the Holy Ghost moves them to preach, furnishes them with the rule of their doctrine, and gives them their warrant and authority. In this sense it is that our Lord's promise is to be understood. It is a promise that reaches to all time. {372} It concerns us here and now. It assures us that at this day, far removed as we are from the times of Christ, across so many centuries, the Holy Ghost through the agency of the Church still brings to us the echoes of His words. He does this in the most solemn and authoritative way by those great decisions of the Church to which He sets the seal of His Infallibility; but he does it in less solemnity, less authoritatively, but more frequently, by the preaching of each individual priest. It is for this end that the priest is ordained. He is consecrated and set apart, not merely to say Mass, not merely to receive the confessions of penitent sinners and absolve them, but to publish the Word of God; and He is empowered by the Holy Ghost for this very purpose. The Christian preacher is no mere lecturer, but an authorized agent and messenger of God, to deliver to the people the will of God. It is chiefly by the ordinance of preaching, in its various forms, that the Holy Ghost carries on the work of instructing men's faith, and regulating their morals. And here, I think, is to be found the real answer to a misconception of our principles so common among Protestants. It is very commonly said and believed that the Catholic Church wishes to keep the people in ignorance of the Scriptures. Now, this is not true. The Church does not wish to keep the Scriptures from the people. On the contrary, in all cases in which they are likely to prove beneficial she approves and encourages their use; but she does not regard the reading of the Scriptures as the necessary, or even as the ordinary mode of familiarizing the people with the Word of God. Thousands have gone to heaven who never read one page of the Bible. St. Irenæus instances whole nations who professed and practised Christianity in entire ignorance of the Divine Records. How many people in every generation are unable to read. Now, God has not made a twofold system of salvation; one for the ignorant and one for the educated. {373} No: according to the Catholic idea, for rich and poor, for learned and unlearned alike, there is one way of truth--the living voice of the preacher. This is God's way. This is the Voice of the Holy Ghost. This is the publication of the Word of God. This is the sword of the Spirit. The decree has never been revoked: "_The priest's lips shall keep knowledge; and the people shall seek the law at his mouth; because he is the messenger of the Lord of Hosts_." [Footnote 119] [Footnote 119: Mal. ii. 7.] But an objection may be drawn against this high view of the ordinance of preaching, from the infirmities of the preacher himself. It may be said: You tell us that the Holy Ghost speaks by the voice of the preacher, yet the preacher is but a fallible man, ignorant of many things, liable to be deceived himself, not free from passions which may affect his judgment. May he not falsify his message? May He not dishonor it? I do not deny the fact on which this objection is founded. Undoubtedly, the preacher may be unfaithful in the delivery of his message. In the Catholic Church, however, the watchfulness of discipline, and the general acquaintance on the part of the people with the standards of faith and practice, will prevent any very serious error finding its way into the public teaching of the priest. Who supposes, for instance, that any Catholic congregation would tolerate from the pulpit a denial of Transubstantiation, or the true Divinity of our Lord, or the necessity of good works? But within a certain limit, no doubt, there may be much imperfection in the preacher, much that detracts from the purity, the majesty, and the dignity of the Word of God. What then? I affirm, nevertheless, that preaching is the great instrument of the Holy Ghost for the conversion of souls. Strange, that we should start back at every new manifestation of a law that goes all through Christianity, and even through all the arrangements of the natural world. {374} In every department of human life, God makes man His representative--man fallible and weak. The judge on the bench represents God's Wisdom and Equity, though his decisions are often far enough from that Divine pattern. The magistrate represents God's authority, though in his hands that authority is sometimes made the warrant for tyranny and oppression. So, in like manner, the preacher represents the Holy Ghost, though he does not always represent Him worthily either in manner or matter. It is part of a plan. He who chooses man, sinful like ourselves, and encompassed with infirmities, to convey His pardon to the guilty, chooses as the organ of the Eternal Wisdom, "_holy, one, manifold, subtle, eloquent, undefiled, having all power, overseeing all things, the Brightness of Eternal Light, the unspotted mirror of God's Majesty_ [Footnote 120] --man, with stammering lips, with a feeble intellect and an impure heart. [Footnote 120: Wisd. vii. 22-26.] And there is a reason in this plan. When the Church goes out to evangelize a new and strange people, she seeks, as soon as possible, to secure some of the natives to aid her in her work, who know the speech, and the manners, and the habits of thought, of those with whom they have to deal. No doubt her old, tried missionaries could furnish an instruction which would be more complete in itself, but the words of the neophyte will be better understood and received. So God, when He speaks to man, chooses as His instrument one who understands the dialect of earth. An angel would be a messenger answering better to His dignity, but less to our necessities; so He considers our welfare alone, and passes by Raphael, "who is one of the daily angels," and Michael, "who is one of the chief princes," and Gabriel, who is the _strength of God_, and chooses Moses, who was "slow of speech," and Jeremias, who was diffident as a child, and Amos, who was but a herdsman, following the flock--to utter His will to man. {375} The human alloy in the Divine Word, no doubt, makes it less accurate, but it makes it more easily understood. Oh! it is a mercy of God thus to disguise Himself and dilute His word. The children of Israel said to Moses: "_Speak thou to us, and we will hear. Let not the Lord speak any more to us, lest we die_." [Footnote 121] Who could look upon the Lord and live? Who could listen to His voice in its untempered majesty and not be afraid? "_The word of God is more penetrating than any two-edged sword, reaching unto the division of the soul and the spirit, of the joints also, and the marrow_." [Footnote 122] [Footnote 121: Exod. xx. 19.] [Footnote 122: Heb. iv. 12.] Do not be displeased, then, because God has sent to thee a messenger like thyself, one who speaks thy language, who shares thy ignorance and thy frailties; pardon him, forgive him his defects, strain your ear to detect in his lowly language some notes of that great message of Eternal Truth and Infinite Love, the story so old yet ever new--the love of Christ, the will of God, the end of man, grace, holiness, and eternity, those things on which depend our happiness here and our salvation hereafter. But here I feel as if I ought to add a word or two of explanation. When I say that the Holy Ghost teaches by the voice of the preacher, I do not mean to assert that He teaches in no other way. A very great part of the preacher's message consists of truths which are already written by the finger of God on every man's natural conscience. A preacher is not required to make us understand that it is wrong to break the precepts of the moral law. Natural reason, the light that enlighteneth every man that comes into this world, tells us that. I could not but be struck the other day, as I passed two young men in the street, at hearing the honest protest with which one of them met the sophistry in which his companion was evidently trying to indoctrinate him: "What!" said he, "you don't mean to say it isn't a sin to get drunk!" {376} Indeed, it is seldom that men justify themselves for actions that are plainly wrong. They are still too full of the Holy Ghost for that. Passion corrupts their will, but does not always darken their understanding. They know the right while they pursue the wrong. But this circumstance does not make the office of the preacher unnecessary; by no means. On the contrary, it is from this that the preacher derives a great part of his power. What he says finds an echo in the hearts of his hearers. One of the strongest things that St. Paul said in his defence before Agrippa was the appeal: "_King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest_." [Footnote 123] [Footnote 123: Acts xxvi. 27.] And so when the preacher is speaking before a congregation, of justice, of temperance, of judgment to come, do you know what it is that gives him such boldness and daring? My brethren, I will tell you a secret. Perhaps you may sometimes have felt surprise when you have heard us, who have so many reasons for feeling diffident before you, so keen in denouncing your sins, so vehement in urging you to your duties. Are we not afraid of wounding your pride, of alienating your affections? No: it is in your hearts that we have our strength. We would not dare to speak so unless we knew that we had a powerful ally in your hearts--your better nature, your reason, your conscience, the divinity that is within you. It is the greatest mistake in the world to suppose that it is unnecessary to tell people what they know already. Half the good advice that is given in the world consists of the most commonplace and familiar truths, but will anyone say for that reason that it is useless? No: the fact is, it is a great help to hear our own convictions uttered outside of us. A man believes more, is more conscious of his belief, his belief becomes more distinct, more serviceable, when he hears it from another's lips. {377} What a mercy of God it is, then, in a world like this, where there are so many temptations, where there are so many evil examples, so much to draw off the mind from God, where it is so easy to obscure the line between right and wrong, that there should be an authoritative voice lifted up from time to time in warning! What a mercy, in those dreadful moments when the conflict rages high between passion and principle, and the soul, weary of the strife, is on the point of surrender, to be re-enforced by God Almighty's aid--to hear His voice amid the strife, saying: "_This is the way; walk ye in it!_" [Footnote 124] [Footnote 124: Isaiah xxx. 21.] And then it must be remembered, too, that there is much of the preacher's message that is not known to man's natural reason, consisting of mysteries deep and high, which at the best can be known only in part; and it is apparent how much it must depend on the preacher's office to keep these mysteries in men's minds, and to secure for them a place in men's intelligence and affections. The Christian Faith has always, from the beginning, been surrounded by adversaries who have attacked it, now on one side, now on another. We are apt to think it our peculiar misfortune to hear continually the doctrines of our faith disputed; but in fact such has been, more or less, the trial of each generation of Christian believers. Now, amid such ceaseless controversies, what means has our Lord left to protect and defend His people from doubt and error? The ministry of preaching. Therefore, says the Holy Scripture: "_Some He gave to be Apostles, and some prophets, and others evangelists, and others pastors and teachers, that we may not now be children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, in the wickedness of men, in craftiness by which they lie in wait to deceive._" [Footnote 125] [Footnote 125: Eph. xi. 11-14.] {378} It is the office of the preacher to declare Christian doctrine, to defend and explain it, to show its consistency and excellence, to answer objections against it, and thus to add to the power of hereditary faith the force of personal conviction. The Church has always understood this, and therefore, whenever a new heresy arises, she sends out a new phalanx of preachers to confront it by good and sound doctrine. And the enemies of the Church have always understood it, and therefore, in times of persecution, when they wished to deal the Christian faith a deadly blow, they sought in the first place, by the murder of bishop and priest, to silence the voice of the teacher. It was one of the last woes threatened against Jerusalem that the people should seek in vain for a vision of the prophet, and that the law should perish from the priests; [Footnote 126] and when in the Christian Church there shall be heard no more the message of truth, when there shall be no more reproof, no more instruction in justice, the iniquity shall come in like a flood; then shall be the abomination of desolation, and the time of Antichrist. [Footnote 126: Ezech. vii. 26.] Great, then, my brethren, is the dignity of preaching. It is God speaking on Mount Sinai. It is Jesus preaching on the Mount. It is the Divine Sower scattering the seeds of truth and virtue. The Holy Ghost has not left the world. In every Christian church, at every Mass, the day of Pentecost is renewed. See, the priest has clothed himself to celebrate the unbloody sacrifice. He has ascended the altar. Already the clouds of incense hang over the mercy-seat, and hymns of praise ascend;--but he stops, he turns to the people. Why does he interrupt the Mass? Has he seen a vision? Has an angel spoken to him, as of old to the prophet Zacharias? Yes, he has seen a vision. He has heard a voice. A fire is in his heart. A living coal hath touched his lips, the Breath of the Spirit hath passed over him, and he speaks as he is moved by the Holy Ghost. Listen to him, for he is a prophet. He speaks to thee from God. What is thy misery? What is thy sorrow? What is thy trial? {379} Now thou shalt find relief. Are you in doubt about religious truth? Listen, and you shall find the answer to those doubts. Are you sorely tempted to sin? Now God will give you an oracle to strengthen you. Are you distressed and suffering? Have you a secret sorrow? Now you shall receive an answer of comfort. Do you wish to know how to advance in God's love? Now the way shall be made plain before your face. O blessed truth! God has not left Himself without a witness. The world is not to have it all its own way. The teachings of Satan are not to go on all the week uncontradicted. The dream of the heathen, that there are sacred spots on earth whence Divine Oracles issue, is fulfilled. The Chair of Truth is set up for the enlightenment of the nations. "_The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; to them that dwelt in the region of the shadow of death light is sprung up." "The earth is filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea_." [Footnote 127] [Footnote 127: Isaias ix. 2, 19.] This subject suggests some very practical reflections. I am not unmindful that some of them concern the preacher himself. I do not forget that the thought of the high dignity of his office calls for the greatest purity of purpose and diligence of preparation; but while I remember this, suffer me also to remind you of your duty in listening to the preacher. St. Paul praises the Thessalonians because they listened to his words, not as the words of man, but as the _words of God_. In the sense in which the teaching of an uninspired man can be so designated, have you thus listened to the preacher's words? Has it been a task to you to listen to the sermon? Have you sought only to be amused? Have you been critical and captious? Or, acknowledging the truth you have heard, have you been careless about putting it in practice? Oh, how much the preaching of God's word might profit us, if we brought the right dispositions to the hearing of it! {380} If we came to Church, eager to know more of God, with a single heart desirous to nourish our souls with His Truth, what progress we should make! A single sermon has before now converted men. St. Anthony, hearing but a single text, embraced a saintly life. If we had such dispositions, if each Sunday found us diligent hearers of God's Word, anxious to get some new thoughts about Him, some new motive to love Him, some new practical lesson, some new help against sin, it would not be long before the effect would be visible in us all. We should make progress in the knowledge of our religion. The devil and the world would assail us in vain. Scandals and sins would become rare. Heavenly virtues would spring up. Piety would become strong and manly. And that which the prophet describes would be fulfilled: "_The Lord will fill thy soul with brightness. And thou shalt be like a well-watered garden, and like a fountain of water, whose waters shall not fail_." [Footnote 128] [Footnote 128: Isaias lviii. 2.] ------------------------------ Sermon XVII. The Two Wills In Man (Fourth Sunday After Easter.) "The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." --St. Matt. XXVI. 41. The word "flesh" here does not mean the body, but the lower or sensitive part of the soul in which the fleshly appetites reside. Our Lord is warning St. Peter of the necessity of prayer in order to meet the temptation which was coming upon him, and He tells him not to trust to the willingness of his spirit, that is, his good intentions and resolutions, because he had an inferior nature which might easily be excited to evil, and which in the hour of temptation might, without a special grace of God, drag his will into sin. {381} What our Lord is declaring, then, is the fact attested by universal experience, that there are in the heart of man two conflicting principles--inordinate passion on one side, and reason and grace on the other. This truth, though so well known, touches our happiness and salvation too closely not to possess at all times an interest and importance for each one of us; and I propose, therefore, to make it the subject of my remarks this morning. In the first place, then, what is the source and nature of the conflict thus indicated by our Lord? Whence does it arise? How does it come to pass that there are those two principles within us? How does it happen that every child of man finds himself drawn, more or less, two contrary ways, toward virtue and toward vice, toward God and toward the devil, toward Heaven and to-ward Hell? The answer commonly given is, that this conflict we feel within us comes from the fall, that it is the fruit of original sin. But the fall, according to the Catholic doctrine, introduced no new principle into our nature, infused no poison into it, and deprived it of none of its essential elements. We must look farther back, then, than the fall for the radical source of this conflict; and we find it in the very essential constitution of our nature. Man, in his very nature, is twofold. He is created and finite, yet he has a divine and eternal destiny. He has a body and a soul, and therefore he must have all the passions which are necessary to his animal and sensible life, as well as the intellectual and moral powers which are necessary to his spiritual life. Here, then, we have, in the very idea of man's nature, the possibility of a conflict. We have two different principles, which it is conceivable might come into collision. Man's appetites and passions, no less than his reason, are given to him by God, are good, are necessary, but since his appetites and passions are blind principles, it is conceivable that they _might_ demand gratifications which would not be in accordance with his reason and spiritual nature. {382} As human nature was at first constituted by the Almighty, any actual collision between these parts was prevented by a gift, which is called "the gift of integrity," a gift which was no essential part of our nature, but was conferred on it by mere grace, and which bound together the various powers of the soul in a wondrous harmony, so that the movements of passion were always in submission to reason. When Adam sinned, this grace was withdrawn from him; and since it was no necessary part of our nature, since it was given of mere grace, it was withdrawn from the whole human race. Hence men now find in themselves an actual conflict between the higher and lower parts of the soul. In a complicated piece of machinery, if a bolt or belt is broken that bound it together, the parts clash. Each part may in itself remain unchanged, but it no longer acts harmoniously with the other parts. So in fallen man, the bolt that braced the soul together is broken, and the powers of the soul clash together. The passions, the will, the reason, all, in themselves, remain as they were, undepraved; but they are no longer in harmony together, and man finds himself weakened by an intestine conflict. This, together with the loss of supernatural grace and a supernatural destiny, is the evil which, according to Catholic theology, accrued to man by the fall. This conflict, then, which we find within us; this clamor of the lower nature against the higher; this propensity of the passions to rebel against reason--in other words, this proneness to sin, which is the universal experience of humanity, does not prove that we have lost any constituent part of our nature, that there is any thing positively vicious in us, nor does it prove that we are hateful to God. It proves, indeed, that we are not divine, that we are not angels, that we are not in the condition of human nature before Adam's transgression; it proves that a source of weakness, inherent in our nature, has been developed by the fall, that we need grace; but it gives not the slightest reason for supposing that our manhood has been wrecked, that the will is not free, that the reason of man has been extinguished, or that the passions are not in themselves good, and have not their legitimate sphere and exercise. {383} So true is this, that this propensity to sin remains even in the baptized. Baptism does a great deal for a man. It takes away original sin, by supplying that justifying grace which our race forfeited in Adam. It restores to man his supernatural destiny. In the language of the Council of Trent, it renders the newly-baptized "innocent, immaculate, pure, harmless, and beloved of God, an heir of God, and a joint heir with Christ, so that there is nothing whatever to retard his entrance into heaven." But there is one thing it does not do. It does not remove the propensity of the passions to rebel. And the Council uses this fact--that concupiscence remains in the baptized--to prove that concupiscence, or the propensity to evil, cannot itself be sin; and enforces its conclusion by the seal of its infallibility and the warrant of its censures, saying: "If anyone is of the contrary sentiment" (that is, declares that the incentive to sin, which remains in the baptized, hath in it the true and proper nature of sin), "let him be anathema." [Footnote 129] [Footnote 129: Sess. V. Decree on Original Sin.] Thus, Christianity explains the origin of this conflict in the human heart, in a manner agreeable to reason and human experience. But it does more. It reveals to us the purpose of this conflict. Why does our Lord leave us subject to this strife? The same holy Council I have quoted already, answers distinctly; this incentive to sin is left in the soul "_to be wrestled with_." The state of the case is this: The passions desire to be gratified without waiting for the sanction of reason, sometimes even in defiance of reason. Morally speaking, this is no evil. The passions are but blind instincts; it is the province of the will to restrain them in their proper limits, and to help her in this work she has reason and the grace of God. {384} If she fails to do her work, then she sins. Whenever sin is committed, it is the will that commits it. It is only the will that can sin. The sin lies not in the inordinate desire, but in the will's not resisting that desire. The will is the viceroy of God in the heart, appointed to keep that kingdom in peace. And herein lies the root of Christian morality, the secret of sanctification, and the essence of human probation. We speak of outward actions of sin; but all sin goes back to the will. There was the treason. "_Out of the heart_," says our Blessed Lord, "_proceed murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false testimonies, blasphemies_." [Footnote 130] [Footnote 130: St. Matt. xv. 19.] Each black deed is done in the secret chamber of the heart before the hand proceeds to execute it. Each false, impure, and blasphemous word is whispered first by the will before the lips utter it. Yes, man's heart is the battle-field. There is the scene of action. We speak sometimes of a man's being alone or being idle: why, a man is never alone; never idle. He may, indeed, be silent, his hands may be still, no one may be near him; but in that kingdom within great events are going on all the time. Angels and saints are there. The armies of Heaven and the armies of Hell meet there. Attack and repulse, parley and defiance, truce and surrender, stratagem and treason, victory and defeat--are things of daily occurrence there. Of course, this is all very well known, very simple, very elementary, but yet there are some who never seem to understand it. They do not understand it who confound temptation with sin. This is a mistake often made, and by those too who ought to know better. If a man feels a strong inclination to evil, if an evil thought passes through his mind, or a doubt against the faith assails him, immediately he imagines that he has fallen under God's displeasure. {385} To state such an error is to refute it. Never, my brethren, fall in to this mistake. No: between temptation and sin there lies all that gulf that separates Heaven from Hell. Let the devil fill your mind with the most horrid thoughts, let all your lower nature be in rebellion, let you have temptations to unbelief, to despair, to blasphemy; yet if that queenly will of yours keeps her place, if she stand steadfast and immovable, not only have you not sinned, but you are purer, more spiritual, more full of faith and reverence than if you had had no such trial. When St. Agnes was before the heathen judge, he ordered her to be sent to the stews and thrown among harlots, but she answered: "I shall come out of that place virgin as I entered it." Yes, all the powers of earth and hell cannot make a resolute soul commit a single sin. It is said that the walls of that house of prostitution, to which the holy maiden was condemned, still stand, and form the walls of a church dedicated in her honor--a visible proof how the soul, faithful to itself and God, turns the very means and instruments of its temptations into trophies of its most magnificent victories. Nor do those understand the nature of the Christian conflict who make strong passions the pretext for the neglect of religious duties. There are such. Their hearts are too tumultuous, their passions too strong, their virtue too weak, their circumstances too difficult; and they must wait till they become more composed, calmer, more devout, until religion becomes more natural to them. Error, dangerous as common! I tell you, Christianity takes hold of every man just as he is, and just where he is, and claims him. No doubt, a quiet temper, a tranquil disposition, a devout spirit, are valuable gifts, but the root of religion does not lie in them, but in the will. That is it. God never intended religion to be confined to the passive and gentle, and to be neglected by the strong and impulsive. You, young man of pleasure; you, man of business and enterprise; you, proud and worldly man; you, passionate woman, with your wild and wayward nature, God, this day, here and now challenges you: "Why are you not working with Me, and for Me? Why are you not religious?" {386} "Me!" you say, "it is impossible. I am sensual and avaricious, I am selfish and revengeful, I am full of hatred and jealousy, I am worldly to the heart's core." No matter: you know what is right; are you willing to do it? "Oh! I cannot. I do not love God. My heart is cold." No matter: are you willing to serve God with a cold heart? That is the question. "I cannot, I cannot. I have no faith. I cannot pray. I have not a particle of spirituality. Religion is wearisome to me, and strange. It is as much as I can do to stay through a High Mass." No matter, I say once more. Do you want to have faith? Are you willing to practise what you do believe? Then if you are, begin your work here and now. You cannot be of so rough a nature that Christ will reject you. No matter who you are and what you are, no matter what your trials have been, and what your past life, if you are a man, with a human heart, with human reason and a human will, Christ calls you by your name, and points out a way that will lead you to peace and heaven. But least of all do they understand the nature of the Christian life, who make temptation an apology for sin; who excuse themselves for a wrong action by simply saying, "I was tempted." Far be it from me, my brethren, to undervalue the danger of temptation, or to forget the frailty of the human heart, or to lack compassion for the fallen; but it is one thing to fall and bewail one's fall, and another to make the temptation all but a justification of the fall. And are there not some who do this? who do not seek temptation, but invariably yield to it when it comes across them? who only steal when some trifle falls in their way; who only curse when they are angry; who only neglect Mass when they feel lazy and self-indulgent; and are always sober and chaste except when the occasion invites to libertinism and intemperance? {387} What! is this Christianity? To abstain from sin as long as we have no particular inclination to commit it, and to fall into it as soon as we have! O miserable man, O miserable woman, go and learn the very first principles of the doctrine of Christ. Go to the Font of Baptism, and ask why you renounced Satan, and promised to keep God's commandments. Go to the Bible and learn why Christ died, and what is the duty of His followers. Temptations come upon you in order that you may resist them. You are subject to gusts of anger, in order that you may become meek. You are tempted to unchastity, in order that you may become pure. You are tempted against faith, that you may learn to believe. That you are tempted, is precisely the reason that you should not yield; for it shows that your hour is come, and the question is whether you will belong to Christ or Satan. Yes, my brethren, our conflict is for the trial of our virtue. It is a universal law of humanity. It was so even in the garden of Eden. In the fields of Paradise, where the trees were in their fresh verdure, and the air breathed a perpetual spring, and all things spoke of innocence and peace, there Adam had to meet this trial. And each child of man since then has met it in his turn. And Christians must meet it too. In the sheltered sanctuary of the Church, where we have so many privileges, so much to strengthen and gladden us, even there each one must abide the test. As the Canaanite was left in the promised land, to keep the children of Israel in vigilance and activity, so the sting of the flesh, the power of our inferior nature, is left in the baptized, to school us in virtue, to make us men, to make us Christians, to make us saints. This is the foundation principle of religion. He who has learnt this, has found out the riddle of life. {388} And now, my brethren, that I have explained to you the source of the conflict that we feel within us, and the purpose it is designed to answer, you will see what the result of it must be, how it issues in the two eternities that are before us. "_He that soweth in his flesh, of the flesh also shall reap corruption; but he that soweth in the Spirit, of the Spirit shall reap life everlasting_." [Footnote 131] [Footnote 131: Gal. vi. 8.] The Judgment Day is but the revelation of the faithfulness or unfaithfulness of each one of us in the struggle to which he has been called. Every act, every choice we make, tells for that great account. The day will declare it. Then the secret of each man's heart shall be revealed, and how that battle in his heart has been fought. Oh, what a spectacle must this world present to the angels who look down upon the solemn strife that is going on here below! There is a man who has ceased to strive. No longer making any resistance, he is led on wholly and completely by his inferior nature. The slave of sin, he hardly feels the conflict in his soul, but it is because the voice of reason and the voice of grace have been so long resisted that they have become almost silent. And there are others who have given up the pure strife, but not so determinedly, not so completely. Occasionally they have better moments, regrets for the good they have forsaken, but still they float on with the careless world. And there is the young girl taking her first step on the downward road, looking back to the father's house she is leaving, reluctant, but consenting. Then there is the penitent, who has fallen but risen again; who has learned wariness from his fall, and new confidence in God from His mercy and goodness, and who is striving by penance and prayer to make up what he has lost. And there is the man with feeble will, ever sinning and ever lamenting his sin, divided between good and evil, with too much conscience to give free reins to his passions, and too little to master them completely. And there is the soul severely tried, still struggling but almost overwhelmed, and out of the depths calling upon God the Holy and True, "_Incline unto mine aid, O God_." {389} And there is the soul strong in virtue, strong in a thousand victories, which stands unmoved amid temptations, like the deep-rooted tree in a storm, or like the rock beaten by the waves. Oh, yes, in the sight of the angels, this world is full of interest. There is nothing here trivial and common-place. What prophecies of the future must they not read! What saints do they see, ripening for Heaven! What sinners rushing madly to Hell! What unlooked-for falls! What unexpected conversions! What hidden sins, unsuspected by the world! Now they must rejoice, and now they must weep. Now they tremble over some soul in danger, and now they exult because the danger is over. So it is now; but when the end shall come, then fear and hope shall be no more, the conflict will be ended, the books shall be opened, and the secrets of the heart published to the universe. The struggle of life will be past, only its results will remain--two separate bands, one on either side of the Judge, the good and the wicked, those who have been true to their conscience, to reason, to grace, and those who have not. Well, then, we will strive manfully against sin. There are untold capacities in us for good and evil. God said to Rebecca: "_Two nations are in thy womb, and two peoples shall be divided out of thy womb, and one people shall overcome the other_." [Footnote 132] [Footnote 132: Gen. xxv. 23.] So, my brethren, in each heart there are two powers struggling for the mastery--the Spirit and the Flesh. There are two sets of offspring struggling for the birth--"the works of the flesh, which are immodesty, uncleanliness, fornication, enmities, wrath, envies, emulations, quarrels, murders, drunkenness, revellings; and the works of the spirit, which are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faith, modesty, continence, chastity." It is for the will, with and under God's grace, to say which of these shall overcome the other. {390} Do you say that I put too much on the will? that the will is too weak to decide this fearful contest? O brethren, the will is not weak. On the side of God, and with the help of God, it is irresistible. Look at the martyrs' will. Did it not carry them through fire and sword? Did it not enable them to meet death with joy? This is our mistake, we do not know our strength. We know our weakness, but we do not know our strength. We think God is to help us, independently of ourselves, and not through ourselves. But this is not so, God helps us by strengthening our will, by enlightening our reason, by directing our conscience. We cannot distinguish between what God does and what we do in any act. The two act together. Therefore, I say, you have it in your power to resist sin, you have it in your power to become saints. No matter though your evil dispositions have been increased by past sins, you can overcome evil habits, and be what God wills you to be. Only do not be contented with a superficial religion, a religion of feelings, and frames, and sensible consolations. Go down deep, go down to the will. Let the sword of the LORD probe till it pierces even "to the division of the soul and the spirit," the point at which our higher and lower natures meet each other. Make your religion not a sham, but a reality. School yourself for heaven. Day by day fight the good fight of faith, and thus merit at last to die like a holy man at whose death St. Vincent of Paul assisted: "He is gone to heaven," said the saint, speaking of M. Sillery, "like a monarch going to take possession of his kingdom, with a strength, a confidence, a peace, a meekness, which cannot be expressed." --------------------------- {391} Sermon XVIII. The Intercession Of The Blessed Virgin The Highest Power Of Prayer. (Sunday Within the Octave of the Ascension.) "If you remain in me, and my words remain in you, ye shall ask whatever you will, and it shall be done to you." --John xv. 7. There is perhaps no Catholic doctrine which meets with more objection among those outside the Church, than our devotion to the Blessed Virgin. Expressions of love to her, of hope in her intercession, which seem to us perfectly natural, which come from our hearts spontaneously, when they are most under the influence of Christian and holy principles, seem to them altogether at variance with Christianity. I do not believe that this comes always from prejudice, and a spirit of opposition on their part. It comes often, I am persuaded, from not understanding us. There is a link in our minds which connects this practice with other Christian doctrines, and this link is wanting in theirs; and therefore acts of devotion of this kind seem to them arbitrary and useless, an excrescence on Christianity, and even alien to its spirit. If this is the case, it cannot but be a duty and charity for us to explain, as far as possible, what is in the mind of a Catholic when he prays to the Blessed Virgin; and I shall accordingly attempt to do so this morning. Perhaps while we are thus removing a stumbling-block out of some erring brother's way, we shall be at the same time rendering our own ideas on this doctrine clearer, and its practice more intelligent. The Blessed Virgin Mary, then, to a Catholic, represents the power of intercessory prayer in its highest form and degree. {392} I believe there are very few persons, indeed, who realize at all the power which is attributed to intercessory prayer in the Bible and in Christianity. The Apostles frequently exhort the Christians to whom they are writing to pray for them. They enjoined it upon them as a duty to pray for one another. What does this mean? Had not St. Paul and St. Peter influence enough with Heaven to carry their wants directly to the throne of grace? Was not the way of access to God open and easy for every one? Did God require to be reminded of the woes and wants of any child of man, by the sympathizing cries of his fellow-creatures? Was not God's own heart as large as theirs? Could any thing He had made escape His knowledge, or any sorrow fail to awaken His compassion? Or, if it did, was the intercession of Christ insufficient that any other had to be called in to supplicate? No, certainly. None of these suppositions are true. God's goodness and knowledge are infinite. He needs not to be told what is in man. He loves the work of His hands. The meanest and the poorest are in the light of His Providence. Christ's merits are infinite and universal. But after all, there stands the fact. Intercessory prayer is an ordinance of God. It is a duty to pray for others, and it is useful to have others pray for us. You may call it a mystery if you like. To me, it does not seem so very wonderful. No man lives to himself. We are not the only Christians. Many others walk alongside of us on the road to Heaven. Many are ahead of us. Many have already reached their term. Shall there be no sympathy between us? Is that principle so deeply seated in our nature to have no play in Christianity? Are we to have no interest, no feeling for each other? Or, is that sympathy to be a barren sentiment, and to have no results? God, in religion, makes use of and commands this kindness and sympathy. He makes use of it to bind all men together in a bond of love. In order to [do] this, He makes it a law that we shall pray for one another, and suspends His gifts upon its execution. {393} It is, then, to meet that nature that He has framed--it is to exalt that nature craving for sympathy--it is to give rein to charity--it is to make us always sensible and mindful of that great human family to which we belong--it is for these reasons, I conceive, that God has instituted the ordinance of intercessory prayer. But, explain it as you will, the fact cannot be denied. It is an appointment of God, and an appointment of great efficacy. It plays a large part in the history of the Bible. Elias was a man subject to like passions with us, and he prayed earnestly that it might not rain, and it rained not for three years and six months; and he prayed again, and the heavens gave rain. Abraham prayed for Abimelech, and God healed him. When Moses prayed for the Israelites suffering under the fire with which God had visited them for their sins, the fire was quenched. In the prophet Ezechiel, God speaks as if he could not act without this intercession--as if it were really a necessary condition for the bestowal of His graces. "_I sought among them for a man_," he says, "_that might stand in the gap before me, in favor of the land, that I might not destroy it, and I found none_." [Footnote 133] St. James even seems to make salvation depend on intercessory prayer. "_Pray for one another_," is his language, "_that ye may be saved_." [Footnote 134] [Footnote 133: Ezechiel xxii. 30.] [Footnote 134: St. James v. 16.] These are but a sample of the many Scriptural proofs that might be brought to show that intercessory prayer is an ordinance of God. It is one of the forms in which the goodness of God and the merits of Christ flow over upon us. By it we obtain graces from God much more easily than we could without it. And we obtain by it special graces, which we would not be likely to obtain at all without it. In this sense, perhaps, St. James meant to imply that it was necessary to our salvation. Not that it was a matter of precept to ask the prayers of this or that particular person, but that their intercession might be the condition of our obtaining graces without which our salvation would be a work of great difficulty. {394} But this is not all that the Scriptures tell us about intercessory prayer. They not only declare its wonderful power, but they make known to us that the efficacy of intercessory prayer depends on the goodness and merit before God of the one who offers it. I do not mean that no one should pray for another unless he is very holy. By no means. No matter how great a sinner a man may be, it is a good thing for him to pray for others, and the mercy and compassion of God, I am sure, never turn away from such a petition. But then, in such a case, it is mercy and compassion which moves God to hear the prayer. In the case of a good man praying for another, there is a sort of claim that he should be heard. Not an absolute claim, by which he can demand any thing for another, as of right, but a claim of fitness, a claim as if between friend and friend, a claim on God's bounty and generosity, which will not allow Him to turn a deaf ear to one who is faithfully striving to serve Him. The passages of inspiration which express this are very clear and very strong. "_The continual prayer of a just man availeth much_." [Footnote 135] There it is the prayer of a righteous man that has this efficacy. And to this agree the words of our Lord: "_If ye remain in me, and my words remain in you, ye shall ask whatever ye will, and it shall be done unto you_." [Footnote 136] Could words express more clearly that the power of intercessory prayer is in direct proportion to the closeness of the union which we maintain with God? And St. John reiterates the same principle when he says: "_Whatsoever we shall ask we shall receive of Him, because we keep his commandments, and do those things that are pleasing in His sight_." [Footnote 137] [Footnote 135: St. James v. 15.] [Footnote 136: John xv. 7.] [Footnote 137: I. St. John iii. 22.] God's dealings, as recorded in the Bible, are in exact accordance with this rule. At the prayer of Abraham, God desisted from His purpose of destroying Sodom, because Abraham was God's friend. When the three friends of Job had displeased God by their wrong judgments and unjust suspicions, God commanded them to go to _His servant Job_, and he would pray for them, and _him_ He would accept. {395} And in the prophet Ezechiel, when the Almighty would express, in the strongest possible manner, the fact that His anger was enkindled against a people and a city; that nothing, however strong, should stay its effects, He says: "_And if these three men, Noe, Daniel and Job, shall be in it, they shall deliver their own souls only by their justice_." [Footnote 138] [Footnote 138: Ezechiel xiv. 14.] As if to say: "Notwithstanding the intercession and merit of these great saints, even though they were all combined in favor of that one city, they should not avail to make Me spare such wickedness. What must be the wickedness that can force Me to withstand the power of such an appeal?" Here, then, we have two things clearly taught in Holy Scripture. One is that intercessory prayer is an ordinance of God of great power and utility. The other is, that the degree of power this prayer has in any particular case depends on the merit of him who offers it. Who, then, shall be the favored child of man, the favored saint, who shall exercise this power in the fullest degree? Of whom it can be said literally, "Whatever thou askest of Me I will do it," because the condition of union with God is perfectly fulfilled? Who shall this be whom Holy Scripture thus clothes with this tremendous power, if it be not the Blessed Virgin Mary? My brethren, our belief in the surpassing sanctity of the Blessed Virgin is no fancy of later times. It goes back to the very beginning of Christianity. St. Ambrose wrote her praises as he had learned them from those who had received them from apostolic men. Grave, austere men, as far as possible removed from any thing like fancy religion or sentimentality, men who had suffered for the name of Christ, and even faced death in its defence, employed their art and care to coin words which might express the virtue and purity and exceeding sanctity of the Virgin Mary, as they had learned it from their forefathers. {396} And in the most ancient writings of the Church, in the Canon of the Mass, when the priest recalls by name the glorious army of Christian heroes who had gone before, always in the first place she is mentioned, the all-glorious, undefiled, immaculate Mary, Mother of God, and ever Virgin. This being so, is not her power of intercession fixed beyond dispute? Does not Scripture itself fashion out for her the glorious throne on which the Catholic Church places her? Did any remain in Christ as she did? Did His words ever so abide in any heart as in hers? Suppose a Christian who lived in the times of the Apostles, before the Blessed Virgin had gone to her rest, when she was just dying; suppose such a one sorely tried and tempted within and without; suppose him anxious about his salvation, distrustful of his own petitions, fearful of the coming storms of persecution; and suppose him in this state of mind to have read that passage of St. James, "The continual prayer of a just man availeth much," what more natural than that he should have said to himself, "I will go to ask the prayers of the dear Mother of Christ. I will ask her to use her power and influence with her Divine Son in behalf of a frail wanderer like me." And when he came into her presence and knelt before her, and kissed her hand and made his plea, and looked up to her and saw that sweet grave smile, and heard her say, "Yes, my child, when I stand in the presence of my Royal Son, and He holds out to me the golden sceptre, and says to me, what wilt thou? what is thy request? then I will remember thee!" Oh! how light his heart! Oh, how strong his soul! what a charm against sadness! what a fortress in temptation! Mary prays for me in heaven to Christ her Son! And is there any thing in this joy and confidence which reason or Christianity would condemn? If so, it must be either that intercessory prayer is not the power the Scriptures say it is, or that Mary is not the saint the Church considers her. Why, even Protestants have gone as far as this. {397} Protestants who have made the primitive form of Christianity their study and profess to accept it as their rule, as, for example, High-Church Episcopalians, have distinctly acknowledged in the seventeenth century, and in our own day, that the saints in heaven do intercede for us, and that this was the primitive doctrine of Christianity. Why, then, find fault with us for invoking the saints, and say we ought only to ask God to hear their prayers for us, as if invocation on our part were not the correlative of intercession on theirs; as if it could be right to ask a saint to pray for us the moment before he died, and wrong the moment after; as if there could be any moral difference before God between a direct and an indirect supplication for the benefit of their prayers in heaven? Such, my brethren, is our idea when we address the Blessed Virgin for aid. It is not that we cannot go directly to God. It is not that God is not the nearest to us, and at all times accessible. It is not that, sinful as we are, we may not go with our miseries into the very presence of the Almighty. It is not that prayer to God is not the best of all prayers. It is not that we put the Blessed Virgin in the place of God. O cruel charge! It is not that we derogate from the merits of Christ. O strange misconception! But it is this--we believe in intercessory prayer. We believe that man may help his brother. We believe that Christianity is a human and a social relation; we believe that heaven is very near this earth--oh, how much nearer than ever we believed! and that in Christ we are in communion with an innumerable company of angels, and the Church of the First-born. We believe that there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over the good deeds done on earth, and that the litanies of the saints ascend over one sinner and his deeds. And we believe that this power of intercessory prayer culminates in the Blessed Virgin. We believe that she is the "one undefiled," whose way has been always in the law of the Lord. We believe that before the foundations of the earth were laid, or ever the earth and the sea were made, she was foreknown by the Almighty, spotless in purity, matchless in virtue. {398} We believe that she was the flower of humanity, the fairest type of Christianity---and we believe, therefore, that God is as good as His word, and whatever she asks of Him, He gives it to her. This is the doctrine on which we found our devotion to the Blessed Virgin. Take our strongest language. It means no more than this: "Pray for me." You may amplify as you will, but from the necessity of the case every thing we say comes to that. Put prayer for the Blessed Virgin, suppose prayer personified in her, and you have the key to the Catholic doctrine on this subject. Strong things are said of the power of the Blessed Virgin, but so are strong things said in Holy Scripture and by holy men of the power of prayer. Whatever can be said of prayer, can be said of her. Cease, then, to misunderstand us. Acknowledge that we are but obeying Christ in praying to the Blessed Virgin. And if you will still find fault, find fault, not with us, but with God, who has instituted intercessory prayer and given such power to men. And for you, my brethren, let these thoughts strengthen you in your confidence in the powerful intercession of the Mother of God. Our work is too severe, our difficulties are too great, for us to neglect any help God has offered us. There are many adversaries. The world, with all its seductions, passes in array before us. Why should we shut our eyes to the hosts of heaven that march unseen by our side? Why should we stay outside when we are invited to the marriage supper, and Jesus and His disciples are there, and Mary, pleader for heavy hearts, saying, "They have no wine;" and at her prayer Jesus gives them that wine that maketh glad the heart of man with the abundance of His grace and love? I have been glad to see you these bright May mornings around the altar. Persevere more and more. Your labor of love is not in vain. God's words cannot fail. His gifts are without repentance. Mary's power of intercession is as fresh this day as it was when her prayer made the miraculous wine to gush forth at the wedding feast; and until some one shall arise more blessed, more holy, nearer to Christ than she, it will remain as it is now, the highest and the most efficacious of all forms of prayer in heaven or on earth. ----------------------------- {399} Sermon XIX. Mysteries In Religion (Trinity Sunday.) "Oh, the depths of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How incomprehensible are His judgments, and how unsearchable are His ways!" --Rom. XI. 33. The word _revelation_ means the discovery of something that was not known before, or the making clear something that was obscure. Now, with this idea in our mind, it may excite surprise to find how much the Christian Revelation abounds in mysteries. By mysteries, I understand truths which are imperfectly comprehended. A doctrine which contradicts reason is not a mystery it is nonsense. A doctrine which is wholly unintelligible is not a mystery: it is simply unmeaning, and cannot be the object of any intellectual act on our part. But a doctrine which is in part comprehended, and in part not, is a mystery. Now, in Christianity we meet such mysteries on every side. The Sacraments are mysteries. Grace is a mystery. The Person of Christ is a mystery. And above all, the great doctrine we commemorate to-day is a mystery. To-day is the Feast of the Most Holy Trinity. To-day we call to mind that wonderful Relationship which exists in God, eternal and necessary, by which, in the undivided Unity of His Essence, there are three distinct modes of subsistence, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. {400} It seems, then, not unfitting on this day to give you some reasons why you should acquiesce in that mysteriousness of Christian doctrine, which is certainly one of its marked characteristics, and which has been urged against it as a serious objection. And, first, I observe that mysteries are _necessary_ attendants on religion. There can be no revelation without them. There can indeed be no knowledge without them. To a little child the earth is a plane of no great extent, and the stars are colored lamps hung in the canopy of the night. But as he grows older, he learns that the earth is very big, and that the stars are very far off, and that there are many systems of worlds above us; and now how many questions press themselves upon his mind! What is the history of this universe? How old is the earth which we inhabit? Are the stars inhabited? Science with the hard earnings of human thought and labor gives him some little satisfaction, but for every question that she sets at rest there are many new ones that she raises, and at last in every department there comes a point where she gropes, and loses her way, and stops altogether. If you light a candle in a large room it casts a bright light on the table you are sitting at, and on the pages of the book you are reading, but gives only a dim light in the distance. You see that there are pictures on the walls, but you cannot discover their subjects. You see there are books on the shelves, but you cannot read their titles. When the room was quite dark you did not know that they were there at all, and now you know them only imperfectly. So every light which knowledge kindles brings out a new set of mysteries or half-knowledges. For this reason it is that a man of true science is apt to be modest in his language. Your loud-talking philosopher, who has no difficulties, has but a very narrow scope of thought and vision. He is clear because he is shallow. But a highly educated man _knows_ that there are a great many things he is ignorant of, and so his language is modified and qualified. {401} I believe it was Sir Isaac Newton who used to say, that in his scientific investigations he seemed to himself like a child gathering pebbles on the sea-shore. It was his vast attainments that made him sensible that Truth is as boundless as the sea. And when scientific men forget this; when they forget how much they are ignorant of; when they are boastful, over-positive, or inconsiderate in their statements, how applicable to them becomes the reproof which the Almighty addressed to Job: "_Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? tell Me if thou hast understanding. Upon what are its bases grounded? or who laid the corner-stone thereof? By what way is light spread, and heat divided on the earth? Who is the father of the rain, or who hath begotten the drops of dew? Dost thou know the order of heaven, and canst thou set down the reason thereof on the earth? Tell Me, if thou knowest these things_." And this holds good just as well in regard to religious knowledge. Reason teaches us that there is a God, and it tells something of His Nature; but it speaks to us about Him only in riddles. God is immutable, and yet He is perfectly free: who shall reconcile these together? God is infinite, infinite in Essence, infinite in all His Attributes--try to comprehend infinitude if you can. Again, what a mystery there is in the creation of this world! What a mystery in the union of spirit and matter! Everywhere mystery is the necessary accompaniment of knowledge; and the more we know, the more mysteries will we have. If, then, God reveals to us any thing about Himself additional to that which reason can ascertain, mystery must still be the consequence. The wider the view, the more indistinct and shadowy the outline. {402} It is revealed to us that in God, without injury to His Simplicity, there is a Threefold Relationship--that the Father, contemplating Himself from all eternity, has conceived a perfect Image of Himself, and that this Image is His Son, and that the Father and the Son have loved each other from all eternity, and that this Love is the Holy Ghost--that thus the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost are Three distinct, eternal, necessary Subsistences. Do not be surprised at this. Here is nothing contradictory to reason. True, it is wonderful. True, you cannot pierce it through and through. It is full of darkness. No matter. You know, when the moon comes out from behind a cloud, how sharp and well-defined the shadows become. So these darknesses of doctrine come because the light is brighter. Men talk of the _simple doctrines_ of the gospel. There are no such things. The gospel, as a scheme of doctrine at least, is a mystery. St. Paul called it so, and so it is. It is a mystery because it reveals so much. If we did not know that God is both One in substance and Three in the mode of subsistence, our difficulties would be less, but so would our knowledge. Well does the prophet exclaim: "_Verily, Thou art a hidden God, the God of Israel, the Savior!_" [Footnote 139] [Footnote 139: Isai. xlv. 15.] What, the _God of Israel_ a hidden God! Did He not manifest Himself to the patriarchs? Did he not speak face to face with Moses? Yes, but He is all the more hidden, the more He has manifested Himself. It cannot be otherwise. God yearns to make Himself known to man, but He cannot. The secret is too deep and high. Language is too weak. Thought too slow. Reason too narrow. The very means He takes to reveal Himself conceal Him. Clouds and darkness gather around Mount Sinai as He descends upon it. The Flesh in which He was "manifested" to men serves as a veil to His Divinity. No, we cannot find out the Almighty to perfection. The time will come in heaven when by the Light of Glory our intellects shall be marvellously strengthened, and we shall see Him "as He is"--but now we see as through a glass darkly. {403} Our utmost happiness here is that of Moses, to be hidden in the rock, while the Almighty passes by and lifts His Hand that we may see a ray of His Glory. Do not complain if the ray dazzles thy feeble sight, but receive each glimpse of that Eternal Truth and Beauty thankfully, and give heed unto it, "_as unto a light shining in a dark place_." But, further, mysteries are not only necessary attendants on revelation, they are really sources of advantage to us. In order to make this clear, I must remind you that Faith is one of the conditions of our acceptance with God. There was a time when men laid too much stress on faith and made light of works; then the Church had to define that works are necessary, and that there is no salvation without them. Now the contrary error is afloat. Men say: "Be moral," "Be religious in a general way, and it is no matter what a man believes." Now, this is an error as great and as dangerous as the other. "_Abraham believed God, and it was reputed to him unto justice._" [Footnote 140] The apostles believed Christ, and were praised for it. On the other hand, those who disbelieved are reproved as being guilty of a mortal fault. "_The heart of this people is grown gross: and with their ears they have been dull of hearing, and their eyes they have shut: lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them_." [Footnote 141] [Footnote 140: Rom. iv. 3.] [Footnote 141: St. Matt. xiii 15.] In like manner, when our Lord took leave of unbelieving Jerusalem, He wept over it. Now, why is this? What is there, in the act of believing or disbelieving, that is of a moral nature, that deserves praise or blame? Is not faith an act purely intellectual? I reply, faith is an act partly intellectual, partly moral. The intellect demands proof that a particular doctrine has been revealed by God, but, when that is once ascertained, faith accepts the doctrine, not because it is perfectly clear in itself, but because God reveals it. {404} Clearly, there enter into such an act many elements of morality--our reverence for God, our desire to do His Will, our humility and docility. You know it is an honor to a man for one to believe in his word, and especially for one to make ventures on the faith of his word. Just so, to make ventures on God's word is a generous, devout, and noble act. Now, it is the mysteriousness of Christian doctrine that gives faith this generous character--or rather, that makes faith possible. The obscurity of the revelation throws the weight on the authority of the Revealer. It is mystery which gives life to faith. A man is not said to _believe_ a thing he sees. "_Blessed are they_," said our Blessed Lord, "_that have not seen, and yet have believed_." [Footnote 142] [Footnote 142: St. John xx. 29.] There are certain flowers that require the shade to bloom. Constant sunshine burns them up. So Faith requires the shadow of mystery. It thrives under difficulties. Abraham's faith was so admirable, because he considered not his own decrepitude, nor Sarah's barrenness, but believed he should have a son at the time appointed by the Almighty. The faith of the apostles was so pleasing to Christ because they accepted His call so readily. They might have stopped to ask a thousand questions, but they rose up without delay and followed Him. You see, then, what I meant when I said that mysteries are of advantage to us. They enter into our probation. They are the occasion of our practising the noble virtue of faith. They are a test of moral character. Nay more, by calling into action the best principles of our nature they exalt our character. You know how it is in the world when some new and great social question is started--how everyone is affected by it. The indolent take their opinions about it from others. The prejudiced and interested judge of it according to prejudice and interest. {405} Men of principle decide it on grounds of morality. But everyone's position is in some way changed by it. So it is with the gospel. Its preaching throws men into new attitudes. "_The Cross of Christ is to them that perish foolishness, but to them that are saved it is the power of God._" [Footnote 143] The proud and the perverse stumble at this stumbling-stone, but men of "good will," the humble, and the loving, find it a precious corner-stone on which their faith has a solid foundation, and on which they are built up to everlasting life. So it was in the time of Christ. After our Lord had been preaching for some time, He inquired of the apostles into the effects of His preaching: "Whom do men say that the Son of Man is?" And they said: "_Some say that thou art John the Baptist, and others Elias, and others Jeremias, or one of the prophets_." "_But whom do you say that I am?_" [Footnote 144] --and Faith, undaunted by difficulties, answers by the mouth of St. Peter: "_Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God_." On another occasion, after He had performed the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves, as we read in St. John's Gospel, He taught the people the doctrine of the Real Presence in Holy Communion: "_Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink His blood, you shall not have life in you._" [Footnote 145] Now, what happened? Many were offended and walked with Him no more. It was too great a mystery. "_How can this man give us his flesh to eat?_" they said. And our Lord turned to His disciples and said--it seems to me I can see His anxious countenance, and hear His tones of sorrow as He asks the question--"_Will you also go away?_" And again Peter answered on behalf of all: "_To whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of Eternal Life_." As much as to say, "Thou art the Truth; no mystery at Thy mouth can deter us." [Footnote 143: I. Cor. i. 18.] [Footnote 144: St. Matt. xvi. 13.] [Footnote 145: St. John vi. 54.] {406} So it has been, also, throughout the history of the Church. What are all the heresies that have arisen but the scandal which the world has taken at the Christian mysteries, and what are all the decisions of the Church but acts of loyalty and submission to Him who is "the Faithful and True Witness"? And the same thing is going on in our day. "_Wisdom preacheth abroad: she uttereth her voice in the streets_." [Footnote 146] The Catholic Church publishes those startling doctrines which have come down to her from the beginning, which have been held everywhere and by all--the principality of the Roman See, the Power of Forgiveness of Sins, the necessity of Penance, the grace of the Sacraments--and what is the result? The children of wisdom, they whose hearts are tender, enter her sacred fold and are blessed. But many listen and say: "It is all very well, if we could believe it. If we could believe it! And is it, then, not credible? Has not God given His revelation complete credibility? Can we not believe Jesus Christ? "_God, Who in times past spoke to the father's by the prophets, hath in these days spoken unto us by His Son_." [Footnote 147] "_No one knoweth the Father but the Son and He to whom the Son will reveal Him_." [Footnote 148] [Footnote 146: Prov. i. 20.] [Footnote 147: Heb. i. 1, 2.] [Footnote 148: Matt. xi. 27.] Jesus Christ has spoken. Miracles and prophecy attest His Truth and Authority. Can you, then, innocently refuse to listen? "_Surely they will reverence my son_," was the language of the father in the parable; will not God the Father Almighty look for an equal submission to His Eternal and Coequal Son? Can He speak, and you go on as if He had not spoken? Can you pick and choose among His doctrines, and take up one and reject another? No, to turn back, to stand still, to falter, is a crime. The trumpet has sounded: men are marshalling themselves for the valley of decision. Oh, take your part with the generation of faithful men, the true children of Abraham, who have "attested by their seal that God is true." Have courage to believe. Plunge into the waters with St. Peter, for it is Christ that is beckoning you on. To believe is an act of duty--of fidelity to your own intelligence, of generosity and devotion to God. {407} "_Without faith it is not possible to please God_." [Footnote 149] Faith is the door to all supernatural blessings. There is a whole world that exists not to a man that has not faith. Faith enlarges our thoughts, opens our hearts, elevates us above ourselves and multiplies a thousand-fold our happiness. Why do men grope in darkness? Why do they remain in ignorance, when by one generous resolve, one courageous act of faith, an act so noble, so meritorious, they might enter into that Glorious Temple of Truth that has come down out of heaven to man, might enter and dwell therein, and their hearts wonder and be enlarged? Happy those who can say with the Psalmist: "_Thy testimonies are wonderful; therefore hath my soul sought them_." [Footnote 150] They are wonderful--they rest for their evidence on Thy Word and Thy Truth, therefore I believe them and love them, for to believe Thee is my first duty and my highest wisdom. [Footnote 149: Heb. xi. 6.] [Footnote 150: Ps. cxviii 129.] Let not, then, the mysteries of our holy religion disturb us, my brethren, but rather let them make us rejoice. For what are they but the evidences of the greatness of our religion? They do not repel, they attract us. We believe them on the authority of God, and we esteem it both a duty and a delight to do so. Neither are they all dark in themselves. Nay, they are only dark from excess of light. Each one of them has much that addresses itself to our understanding, much that enlists our affections. The angels in heaven worship the Trinity with devoutest adoration. "_I saw the Seraphim_," says the prophet, "_and they covered their faces and cried: Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Hosts!_" [Footnote 151] [Footnote 151: Isai. vi. 3.] Incessantly sings the Church on earth: "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost." There have been saints who so dwelt upon all that Faith teaches us of God, that they had to go by themselves, in quiet places, for their hearts were all but breaking with the sweet but awful sense of His Majesty. {408} Let us, too, learn to love these mysteries and meditate on them. We live in the midst of great realities. "_You are come to Mount Sion, and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to the company of many thousands of angels, and to the Church of the first-born, who are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of the just made perfect, and to Jesus, the Mediator of the New Testament_." [Footnote 152] [Footnote 152: Heb. xii. 22, 23, 24.] Day by day, let it be our endeavor to pierce into these holy truths more and more, that at last, like Moses, our countenances may reflect some portion of their beauty and brightness, that continually "_beholding the glory of the Lord we may be transformed into the same image from glory to glory_." [Footnote 153] [Footnote 153: II Cor. iii. 18.] ------------------------------- Sermon XX. The Worth Of The Soul. (Third Sunday After Pentecost.) "There shall be joy before the angels of God over one sinner doing penance." St. Luke xv. 10. This is what theologians call an _accidental_ joy. The essential joy of heaven consists in the perfect knowledge and love of God, and is unchangeable and eternal; but the accidental joy of heaven springs from the knowledge of those events in time which display the goodness and greatness of God. The first of these events was the creation itself, when the hand of God spread the carpet of the earth, and stretched the curtains of the heavens. {409} Then "_the morning stars praised Him together, and all the sons of God made a joyful melody_." [Footnote 154] [Footnote 154: Job xxxviii 7.] After this the great historic events of the world have been successively the burden of the angelic songs--the unfolding of the plan of Redemption, the birth of Christ, the triumphs of the Church. But lo! of a sudden these lofty strains are stopped. There is silence for a moment, and then the golden harps take up a new and tenderer theme. What is it that has happened? What is the event that can interrupt the great harmonies of Heaven, and furnish the Angels with a new song? In some corner of the earth, in some secret chamber, in some confessional, on some sickbed, in some dark prison, a sinner is doing penance. He prays, whose mouth had been full of cursings. He weeps, who had made a mock at sin. The slave of Satan and of Hell turns back to God and Heaven--and that is the reason of this unusual joy. It is not that a recovered sinner is really of more account than one who has never fallen, but his recovery from danger is the occasion of expressing that esteem and love for the souls of men which always fills the heart of God and the Angels. Therefore, as that contrite cry reaches heaven, the Angels are silent, for they know that there is no music in the ear of God like that. And then, when God has ratified the absolving words of the priest, and restored the contrite sinner to His favor, they cast themselves before the throne, and break forth into loud swelling strains of ecstasy and triumph, while He Himself smiles His sympathy and joy. O my brethren, what a revelation this is! A revelation of the value of the soul. There are great rejoicings on earth when a battle is won, or upon the occasion of the visit of some great statesman or warrior, or when some great commercial enterprise is successful, but these things do not cause joy in Heaven. The conversion of one soul--it may be a child, or a young man, or an old woman--the conversion of one soul, that it is that makes a gala day in Heaven. {410} Now, God sees every thing just as it is, and if there are such rejoicings in Heaven when a soul is won, what must be the value of a soul! Let us confess the truth, we have not thought enough of the value of a soul. We have thought too much of the world, of its pleasures, of its profits, of its honors, but too little of our own souls. We have not thought of them as God thinks of them. Let us, then, strive to exalt our ideas, by considering some of the reasons why we should put a high value on our souls. In the first place, we should value a human soul, because it is in itself superior to any thing else in the world. The whole world, indeed, with every thing in it, is good, for God made it. But He proceeded in a very different manner in the creation of the material world from what He did when He made the soul. He made the world, the trees, the rivers, the lights of heaven, the living creatures on the earth, by the mere word of his power. "_God said, Be light made. And light was made_." [Footnote 155] [Footnote 155: Gen. i. 3.] And God said, "_Let the earth bring forth the green herb, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after its kind. And it was so_." [Footnote 156] But when He made the soul, the Scriptures tell us, "_He breathed into the face of man and he became a living soul_." [Footnote 157] [Footnote 156: Gen. i. 12.] [Footnote 157: Gen. i. 26.] By this action we are to understand that God communicated to man a nature kindred to his own divinity. The Holy Ghost, the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity, is the uncreated Spirit of God, eternally breathing forth and proceeding from the Father and the Son; and God, when He breathed into the face of man, signified that He imparted to man a created spirit kindred to his own eternal Spirit. The Holy Scriptures, indeed, expressly tell us that such was the case: "_Let us make man to our image and our likeness_." [Footnote 158] [Footnote 158: Gen. i. 26, 27.] {411} This likeness consisted in the possession of understanding and free will, the power of knowledge and love--the two great attributes of God himself. You are, then, my brethren, endowed with a soul which raises you immeasurably above God's material creation. You have a soul made after God's image. This is the source of your power. The two things go together in Holy Scripture. "_Let us make man to our image and likeness; and let him have dominion over the fishes of the sea and the fowls of the air, and the beasts, and the whole earth, and every creeping creature that moveth upon the earth_." [Footnote 159] In the state of original innocence, no doubt, this dominion was more perfect, but even now it exists in a great degree. "_Every kind of beast, and of birds, and of serpents, and of the rest, is tamed, and hath been tamed by mankind_." [Footnote 160] [Footnote 159: Gen. ii. 7.] [Footnote 160: St. James iii. 7.] See how a little boy can drive a horse. See how a dog obeys his master's eye and voice. See how even lions and tigers become submissive to their keepers. And the elements, often wilder than ferocious beasts, are obedient to you. The fire warms you and cooks for you, and carries you when you want to travel for business or pleasure. The wind fans the sails of your vessels, and the waters make a path for them under your feet. Even the lightning leaps and exults to do your bidding and to be the messenger of your will. Thus every thing falls down before you and does you homage, and proclaims you lord and master. What is the reason that every thing thus honors you? It is on account of the soul that is in you--the power of reason and will--the godlike nature with which you are endowed. Yes, and your soul is the source of your beauty, too. In what consists the beauty of a man? Is it a mere regularity of form and feature? Do you judge of a man as you do of a horse or a dog? {412} No; the most exquisitely chiselled features do not interest you, until you see intelligence light up the eye, and charity irradiate the countenance--then you are captivated. A man may be a perfect model of grace in his movements without exciting you, but when he becomes warm with inspirations of wisdom and virtue, when his words flow, his eye sparkles, his breast heaves, his whole frame becomes alive with the emotions of his soul, then it is you are carried away, you are ready almost to fall down and worship. What is the reason that Christian art has so far surpassed heathen art? that the Madonna is so far more beautiful than the Venus de Medicis? It is because the heathens portrayed mere natural beauty; the Christians portrayed the beauty of the soul. And if the soul is so beautiful in the little rays that escape from the body, what must it be in itself? God has divided his universe into several orders, and we find the lowest in a superior order higher than the highest in the inferior order. The soul, then, is more beautiful than any thing material. "_She is more beautiful than the sun, and above all the order of the stars: being compared with the light she is found before it_." [Footnote 161] [Footnote 161: Wisdom vii. 29.] O my brethren, do not admire men for their form, or their dress, or their grace, but admire then for the soul that is in them, for that is the true source of their beauty. It is also the secret of their destiny. God did not give you this great gift to be idle. He gave it for a worthy end. He gave understanding that you might know Him, and free will that you might love Him; and this is the true destiny of man. You were not made to toil here for a few days, and then to perish. You were made to know God, to be the friend of God, the companion of God, to think of God, to converse with God, to be united to God here, and then to enjoy God hereafter forever. Once more, then, I say, do not admire a man for his wealth, or his appearance, or his learning. Do not ask whether he is poor or rich, ignorant or learned, from what nation he springs, whether he lives in a cabin or palace. {413} Let it be enough that he is a man, possessed of understanding and free will, spiritual and immortal, with a soul and an eternal destiny. That is enough. Bow down before him with respect. Yes, respect yourselves--not for your birth, or your station, or your wealth, but for your manhood. "_Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, and let not the strong man glory in his strength, and let not the rich man glory in his riches. But let him that glorieth glory in this, that_ HE UNDERSTANDETH AND KNOWETH ME." [Footnote 162] Yes, my brethren, this is your true dignity, the soul that is in you--the soul, that makes you capable of knowing and loving God. [Footnote 162: Jer. ix. 23, 24.] And yet, there is another reason why you should value your souls, besides their intrinsic excellence--I mean, the great things that have been done for them. Do you ask me what has been done for your souls? I ask you to look above you, and around you, and under you. Oh, how fair the earth is! See these rivers and hills! Look on the green grass! Behold the blue vault of heaven! Well, this is the palace God has prepared for your abode; nay, not for your abode--your dwelling-place is beyond the skies, where "_the light of the moon is as the light of the sun, and the light of the sun seven-fold, as the light if seven days_,"--but for the place of your sojourn. This earth was made for you; and, as your destiny is eternal, therefore the earth must have been made to subserve your eternal destiny. Why does the sun rise in the morning, and go down at night? It is for you--for your soul. Why do summer and winter, seed-time and harvest, return so regularly? It is for you, and your salvation. The earth is for the elect. When the elect shall be completed, the earth, having done its work, will be destroyed. This is the end to which, in God's design, all things are tending. God does not look at the world, or its history, as we do. {414} We say: "Here such a great battle was fought;" "there such a celebrated man was born;" "in this epoch such an empire took its rise, such a dynasty came to an end." But God says: "Here it was a little child died after baptism, and went straight to heaven;" "there it was I recovered that gifted soul, which had wandered away into error and sin, but which afterward became so great in sanctity;" "in such an age it was that I lost that great nation which fell away from the faith, and in such another, by the preaching of My missionary, I won whole peoples from heathenism." I know we shrink from this in half unbelief: When it is brought home to us that this little earth is the centre of God's counsels, and our souls of the universe, we are amazed and offended. But so it is. "_All things work together unto good to them that love God_." [Footnote 163] All things; not blindly, but by the overruling Providence of Him who made them for this end. [Footnote 163: Rom. viii. 28.] Do you ask me what has been done for your souls? I answer, the Church has been established for them. Look at the Church, and see how many are her officers and members--Bishops, Priests, Levites, Teachers, Students. All are yours--all are for you. For you the Pope sits on his throne; for you Bishops rule their Sees; for you the Priest goes up to the altar; for you the Teacher takes his chair, and the Student grows pale in the search for science. That the Apostolic commission might come down to you, St. Peter and St. Linus and Cletus ordained Bishops in the churches. That the true doctrine of Christ might come down to you uncorrupted, the Fathers of the Church gathered in council, at Nice, and Ephesus, and Chalcedon, and Trent. That you might hear of the glad tidings of Christ, St. Paul and St. Patrick labored and died. For you, for each one of you, as if there were no other, the great machinery of grace, if I may express myself so coarsely, goes on. {415} Do you ask what has been done for your souls? Angels and Archangels, and Thrones and Dominions, and Principalities and Powers--all the hosts of Heaven--have labored for them. "_Are they not all ministering spirits, sent to minister for those who shall receive the inheritance of salvation?_" [Footnote 164] [Footnote 164: Heb. i 14.] For you the whole Court of Heaven is interested, and one bright particular Angel is commissioned to be your guardian. For you St. Gabriel flew on his message of joy to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and St. Michael, the standard-bearer, waits at the gate of death. Do you ask what has been done for your souls? From all eternity God has thought of them, the means of salvation have been determined on, the chain of graces arranged. And the Son of God has worked for them. Galilee, and Judea, and Calvary were the scenes of His labors on earth, and on His mediatorial throne in heaven He carries on still His unceasing labors in our behalf. And the Holy Ghost has worked. He spake by the Prophets, and on the day of Pentecost He came to take up His abode in the Church, never to be overcome by error, or grieved away by sin, to vivify the Sacraments, and to enlighten the hearts of the faithful by the preaching of the Gospel and His own holy inspirations. Why, who are you, my brethren? The woman at Endor, when she had pierced the disguise of Saul, and knew that she was talking with a king, was afraid, and "_said with a loud voice: 'Why hast thou deceived me, for thou art Saul?_'" [Footnote 165] [Footnote 165: I. Kings xxviii. 12.] [Transcribers Note: The correct reference is I. Samuel xxviii. 12.] So, I ask you, who are you? I look upon your faces, and I see nothing to make me afraid; but faith tears away the disguise, and I see each one of you radiant with light, a true prince, and an heir of heaven. I look above, and see Heaven open and the Angels of God ascending and descending on errands of which you are the object. {416} I look higher yet, and I see God the Father watching you with anxiety, and the Son offering his blood for you, and the Holy Ghost pleading with you, and the Saints and Angels, some with folded hands supplicating for you, and others pointing with outstretched finger to the glorious throne reserved in Heaven for you. Have you, my brethren, so regarded yourselves? Have you valued that soul of yours? Have you kept it as your most sacred treasure? Is it now safe and secure? Oh, how carefully do men keep a treasure they value highly! Kings spend many thousand dollars yearly just to take care of a few jewels. The crown jewels of England are kept, as you know, in the Tower. It is a heavy fortress, guarded by soldiers who are always on watch. At each door and avenue there is an armed sentinel. The jewels themselves are kept in glass cases, and visitors are not allowed to touch them. And all this pains and outlay to take care of a few stones that have come down to the Queen by descent, or been taken from her enemies! And that precious soul of yours, before which all the wealth of the world is but worthless dross with what care have you kept that? Alas! every door has been left open. No guard has been at your eyes to keep out evil looks. No guard at your ears to keep out the whispers of temptation. No guard at your lips to stop the way to the profane or filthy word. Nay, not only have you kept up no guard, but you have carried your soul where soul-thieves congregate. The Holy Scripture says: "_A net is spread in vain before the eyes of a bird_." [Footnote 166] [Footnote 166: Provo i. 17.] Yes, the birds and beasts are cunning enough to avoid an open snare; but you go rashly into dangers that are apparent to all but you. Sinners lie in wait for you. They say, in the language of Scripture: "_Come, let us lie in wait for blood; let us hide snares for the innocent without cause. Let us swallow him up alive like hell, and whole as one that goeth down into the pit_"--and you trust yourself in their power. Oh, fly from them! {417} Consider the treasure you carry. "_What shall it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul?_" Will you sin against your own soul? you that are made after God's likeness; you that are princely and of noble rank, will you defile that image, and degrade yourselves to a level with the brutes that perish? But there are others whose offence is of another kind. They let their salvation go by sheer neglect. If a man plants a seed, he must water it, or it will not grow. So the soul needs the dew of God's grace; and prayer and the sacraments are the channels of God's grace. Yet how men neglect the Sacraments! Even at Easter, when we are obliged to receive them, some absent themselves. It has been a matter of the keenest pain to us to miss some members of this congregation during the late Paschal season. You say, you have nothing on your conscience, and it is not necessary to go to confession. But is it not necessary to go to communion? Will you venture to deprive yourselves of that food of which, unless ye eat, the Saviour has said, "_Ye have no life in you?_" Or; you have a sad story to tell. You have fallen into mortal sin, and you are afraid to come. But do you think we have none of the charity of the Angels? Only convert truly, for it is a true conversion that gives the Angels joy, and we can give you the promise that Thomas à Kempis puts into the mouth of Him whose place we fill: "How often soever a man truly repents and comes to Me for grace and pardon, as I live, saith the Lord, who desireth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should be converted and live, I will not remember his sins any more, but all shall be pardoned him." And to you, my brethren, who, during the Easter season just past, have recovered the grace of God, I have a word of advice to give in conclusion. Keep your souls with all diligence. Keep your souls; that is your chief, your only care. Keep them by fleeing from the occasions of sin. {418} Keep them by overcoming habitual sins. Nourish them by prayer and the sacraments. How great a disgrace, that all the irrational world should do the will of God, and you, the rulers of the world, should not do it! "_The kite in the air hath known her time; the turtle, and the swallow, and the stork have observed the time of their coming; but my people have not known the judgment of the Lord_." [Footnote 167] [Footnote 167: Jer. viii. 7.] How great an evil it is in a state when an unworthy ruler is at its head. The people mourn and languish, and at last rebel. So, when a man neglects the end for which he was made, the whole creation cries out against him. The stones under his feet cry out. The air he breathes, the food he eats, protest against the abuse he makes of them. Balaam's ass rebuked the madness of the prophet; so, when you live in sin, the very beasts cry out: "If we had souls, we would not be as you. Now we serve God blindly, and of necessity; but if we had souls, it would be our pride and happiness to give Him our willing service." All things praise the Lord;--"showers and dew;" "fire and heat;" "mountains and hills;" "seas and rivers;" "beasts and cattle." O sons of men, make not a discord in the universal harmony! Receive not your souls in vain! Serve God; "praise Him and exalt Him forever." ------------------------------- Sermon XXI. The Catholic's Certitude Concerning The Way Of Salvation. (Fifth Sunday After Pentecost.) "I know whom I have believed, and I am certain that He is able to keep that which I have committed to Him against that day." --II. Tim. I. 12. No one can deny that this sentiment of the Apostle is a very comfortable one. To be confident of salvation is surely an excellent and desirable thing. But the question with many will be, is it possible to attain it? {419} Now, there is one sense in which we cannot have a security of our salvation. We cannot have personally an infallible assurance that we are now and shall always continue in the grace of God, and shall at last taste the joys of heaven. Our free-will forbids such an assurance, and neither our happiness nor the attributes of God demand it. But there is another sense in which a man may be said to have a security of his salvation, viz.: that he has within his reach, beyond all doubt, the proper and necessary means for attaining that end; for if the means are certain, it is plain that in the use of those means he may acquire a moral certainty that he is doing those things which God requires of him, and a well-grounded hope of everlasting life. Such a security it would seem a man ought to be able to attain. Without it the service of God must be slavish. There can be no free and generous service where there is not confidence. When one is travelling at night on a road he is ignorant of, he goes slow, he falters; but in the broad daylight, in a road he is sure of, he walks with a free, bold step. So in religion, if we have no security that we are right, we can never do much for God. Man is not an abject being; he is erect; he looks up to heaven; he seems to face his Maker and to demand from Him to know the terms on which he stands toward Him. A confidence, then, at least of being able to secure our salvation, must be within our reach. The only question is, how is it to be attained? I answer, the Catholic has within his reach the security of his salvation, and he alone. In order to show this to you, I must remind you of what I mean by salvation. Put out of your minds that childish idea that salvation is an external, arbitrary reward, given to some men when they die, and denied to others, as a father gives a book or a plaything to an obedient child, and refuses it to a disobedient. Salvation is union with God. We are made for God. That is our high destiny. In God are our life and happiness; and out of God our death and ruin. {420} Salvation is our union with God for all eternity, and, in order to be united to God for all eternity, we must be united to Him here. Our salvation must begin here. Now, we are united to God when our intelligence is united to His intelligence by the knowledge of His truth, and our will united to His will by the practice of His love. When I affirm, then, that the Catholic alone has the means of attaining a security of salvation, I mean that he alone has the certain means of coming to the knowledge of His truth, and the practice of His will. I say _the certain means of coming to the knowledge of His truth_, for it is one thing to have a certain knowledge of a thing, and another to have only some ideas about it. We see this difference when we contrast the language of a man who is master of a science with that of one who has only vague notions about it. One possesses his knowledge--knows what he knows--can make use of it; while the other is embarrassed the moment he attempts to use his knowledge--is uncertain whether he is right or wrong--is driven to guesses and conjectures. In the same way, in religion, it is one thing to have convictions more or less deep--opinions more or less probable, to be acquainted with its history and able to talk about it--and quite another to have certainty in religion, to know that one is right. This is the assurance I claim as the special possession of the Catholic. There can be no doubt that Catholics do, in point of fact, show a much deeper conviction of the truth of their religion than Protestants. This is a matter of common observation, and the proofs of it are on every side. Officers who come back from the army tell how struck they have been with the fact that the Catholic soldiers believe their religion and carry it with them to the camp. Proselyting societies make frequent confession of the difficulty they find in undermining the faith even of ignorant and needy Catholics. Those who have experience at death-beds, know that faith is found sometimes surviving almost every other good principle, and making a return to God possible. {421} Those who are familiar with the history of the Church know that this faith is strong enough to bear the severest tests which can be applied to it; that it has often led men to despise what the world most esteems--wealth, pleasures, honor; that it sends the missionary to heathen countries without a regret for the home and the native land he leaves behind him; that, in fine, it has often led men in times past, and still at this day leads them joyfully to the rack, the stake, and the scaffold. Now, whence comes this deep and fixed certainty in religion? Is it a mere prejudice that melts before investigation? Is it a stupid fanaticism? Or has it a reasonable basis, and are its foundations deep in the laws of the human mind? I answer, Catholics have this undoubting conviction on the principle of faith in an infallible authority. There are but two principles of Christian belief, when we come to the bottom of the matter. One is the Protestant principle, viz.: that each one is to settle his faith for himself, by a study of the clear records of Christianity. The other is the Catholic principle, viz.: that each one is to receive his faith from an infallible authority. I feel as if I ought to pause here for a while to explain to you what is meant by this principle, for there exists in regard to it in some minds a misconception which does us the grossest injustice. Some persons imagine that our creed is manufactured for us by the Pope and the Bishops; that whatever they may think right and good they may decree, and forthwith we are bound to believe it. But this is an enormous mistake. The authority to which I submit myself is something far more august. It lies behind Pope and Bishop, and they must bow to it as well as I. The Pope and the Bishops are the organs of this authority, not its sources. When we speak of learning from an infallible authority, we mean that a man is to find out the truth by putting his intelligence in communication with that living stream of truth that flows down through the channel of tradition, that living word of God, that public preaching of the truth in the true Church, begun by the Apostles, carried on by their successors, confessed by so many people, recorded in so many monuments, adorned by so many sacrifices, attested by so many miracles. {422} Unquestionably, this was the mode in which men were expected to learn the truth in apostolic days. It would not have been of the least avail for a man to have said to the Apostles that his convictions differed from theirs. He would have been instantly regarded as in error. "We are of God," says St. John; "he that is of God, heareth _us_; he that is not of God, heareth not us. _By this_ shall ye know the spirit of truth, and the spirit of error." [Footnote 168] [Footnote 168: I St. John iv. 6.] Nor is there the least intimation in the New Testament that this principle was to be departed from after the death of the Apostles. On the contrary, we find that the Apostles ordained others, and communicated to them their doctrine and authority, that they might go on and preach just as they had done. And we find in the early Church that whenever a dispute arose about doctrine it was settled on the same principle, viz.: by an appeal to the tradition of the churches that had been founded by the Apostles. Thus, when a heresy arose in the second century, Tertullian confronts it by bidding them compare their doctrine with that of the Apostolic Churches: "If thou art in Achaia," he says, "thou hast Corinth; if thou art near Macedonia, thou hast Philippi; if thou art in Italy, thou hast Rome. Happy Church! to which the Apostles bequeathed not only their blood, but all their doctrines. See what _she_ has learned, see what _she_ has taught." [Footnote 169] [Footnote 169: Adv. Præscr. Hær. n. 32-6.] Such is the principle on which the Catholic Church acts to this day. Now, while the Protestant principle of private judgment in its own nature cannot lead to certainty, while in point of fact it has led only to endless dispute, until in our own day it has ended by bringing those Divine Records, which it began by exalting so highly, into doubt and contempt; the Catholic principle, which, I have stated, is the principle of tradition, is adapted to give a complete and a reasonable certainty and assurance. {423} The reasons why this public tradition of the living Church has this power are manifold. They are in part natural, and in part supernatural--universal consent, internal consistency, Divine Attestation, the Warrant and Promise of Christ; all of which are so well summed up by St. Augustine, in that famous letter of his to the Manichees: "I am kept in the Catholic Church," he says, "by the consent of peoples and nations. By an authority begun with miracles, nourished by hope, increased by charity, confirmed by antiquity. By the succession of priests from the chair of St. Peter the Apostle--to whom our Lord after His resurrection gave His sheep to be fed--down to the present Bishop. In fine, by that very name of _Catholic_, which this Church alone has held possession of; so that though heretics would fain have called themselves Catholics, yet to the inquiry of a stranger, 'Where is the meeting of the Catholic Church held?' no one of them would dare to point to his own basilica." [Footnote 170] [Footnote 170: Con. Ep. Manich. i. 5. 6.] The conviction which such considerations produce is so deep that a Catholic rests in it with the most undoubting certainty. He can bear to look into his belief, to examine its grounds; he feels it is a venerable belief. He says it is impossible that God would allow error to wear so many marks of truth. To imagine it, would be to impugn _His_ Truth, _His_ Justice, _His_ Power, _His_ Goodness. And therefore, our belief in the Catholic religion is only another form of our belief in God. The foundation of that belief is deep and abiding, for it is the Eternal Throne of God. That desire for truth which is implanted in man's nature is not, then, given only to be baffled and disappointed--here is its fulfilment. Man is not raised to a participation in Christ of the Divine Nature, to be left in doubt of the most essential truths. {424} To the Catholic are fulfilled those pleasant words of Christ: "_I will not now call you servants, for the servant knoweth not what his Lord doeth; but have called you friends, because all things, whatsoever I have heard from my Father, I have made known to you_." [Footnote 171] [Footnote 171: St. John xv. 15.] But some one may make an objection to my doctrine that certainty about truth is the result only of the Catholic principle of faith, and say: "You do not mean to assert that Protestants have no faith at all?" A Protestant may say to me: "I acknowledge that we have among us a great deal of disunion, and a great deal of doubt, but after all there are some things that are believed by some of us, that are believed without doubt, and you will not deny it." No, I will not deny it. I am glad to think that it is true. But how did you come by that belief? You did not come by it on the principle of Protestantism. The truth is, that principle never has been, and never can be carried out. Thank God, it is so. Utter unbelief would be the consequence. You have a child--a child that you love dearly. Will you wait, as your Protestantism requires you to do, till he is grown up, for him to form his religious convictions? No; if you love him, you will not. Your heart will teach you a better wisdom. You will tell him about God, you will tell him Who Christ is, and what He has done for him. You will tell him these things not doubtingly, not as if he was to suspend his judgment on them, but as true, and as to be believed then and there. And as he looks up at you out of his trusting eyes, he believes you. But how does he believe you? On the principle of a Protestant, or a Catholic? On the principle of private judgment, or on faith in an infallible authority? Surely it is as a Catholic he believes? You represent to him the Great Teacher, and his childish soul, in listening to you, hears the voice of God, performs a great act of religion, and does his first act of homage to Truth. His nature prompts him to believe you. Perhaps he is baptized, and then there is a grace in his heart which secretly inclines him the more to credit you, and he believes without doubting. He is a Catholic. {425} Yes, my brethren, there is many a child of Protestant parents who is a Catholic--a Catholic, that is, in all but the name, and the fulness of instruction, and the richness of privilege. He may grow up in this way, perhaps continue all his life in this childish faith and trust. I will not say it may not be so. But let his reason fully awaken. Let him honestly go down to the foundation of his faith and see on what it rests, and then let him remain a Protestant, and retain his undoubting assurance if he can. He cannot--a crisis in his history has come. The sun has arisen with its living heat. The flower begins to wither. It must be transplanted or it will die. One of three things will happen: either the man, finding that he has not learned all that the Great Teacher has revealed, will go on to accept the rest and will become a Catholic; or he will learn to doubt what he has received already and become a sceptic; or he will stick to the creed he has received from his fathers or picked up for himself, and doggedly refuse to add to it, thus rendering himself at the same moment amenable in the Court of Reason for unreasonableness in what he holds, and in the Court of Faith for unbelief in what he rejects. So true it is that all the faith there is in the world is naturally allied to Catholicity. If men were perfectly reasonable and consistent, there would be only two parties in the religious world. Protestantism would disappear. On the one side would be faith, certainty, Catholicity; on the other, doubt and unbelief. Nor is this all. The Catholic has not only a certain means of arriving at the knowledge of God's Faith, but he has also the sure means of knowing what he is bound to _do_ in order to [obtain] salvation. Christianity is a supernatural religion, and therefore it suggests many questions to which natural reason cannot give the answer. By what means can I be united to Christ? Suppose I am in mortal sin, how can I be forgiven? {426} What are the precise obligations binding on me as a Christian? Now, how distinctly, how promptly were such questions answered in the time of the Apostles! When St. Paul came to Ananias to know what he was to do, the answer was given to him: "Arise, and be baptized, and wash away thy sins." In the same way in the Catholic Church of this day, when a convert asks the same question, he gets the same answer: Seek in faith and repentance the cleansing of baptism, and thou shalt be joined unto Christ. Dost thou wish to know the life thou must practise? It is written in the ten commandments and the precepts of the Church. Dost thou wish to know where thou wilt gain strength to keep these laws? In prayer and the sacraments. The Church tells you how many there are, what is their efficacy, and the conditions of their saving operation. Art thou in sin after baptism? Dost thou ask the way back to God? The Church tells thee that sorrow for sin is the way back, and that this sorrow, when it is completed by confession, and accepted by the absolution of the priest, has a sacramental efficacy. So precise are the answers of Catholicity to the important practical questions of Christianity; and the authority which, I have already said, attaches to her words, gives ease and certainty to the conscience. But how different is all this in Protestantism! How various the answers given to these questions by the different sects! Nay, how contradictory sometimes the answers given in the same sect! It would be odious to go into particulars on this subject, but I say what I know when I affirm that an intelligent Protestant cannot have faith in his Church, if he would; he may adopt a set of opinions and associate with those who hold them, but he cannot have faith in his Church as a Church. It is not long since an intelligent member of one of the most enlightened Protestant denominations told me that the members of that Church did not seem to be satisfied with it, only they did not know whether there was any other Church in the world that would satisfy them. {427} I say what I know when I affirm that there are young children in Protestant Churches who weep because they are told that God hates them, and they do not know how to gain His love. That there are numbers of young men, full of generous and noble thoughts and impulses, who are utterly destitute of any fixed Christian belief; who say they would like to believe, but they cannot. That there are multitudes and multitudes who die in this land, who die without one single Christian act, and many who submit at their last hour to take part in such acts at the request of friends, and on the chance that there may be some good in them. That there are some who openly lament that they were not born Catholics, that they might have had faith; some who rise in the night to cry to God out of the hopeless darkness that surrounds them; some who, in despair of seeing God with an intelligent faith, take up a substitute, the best of all, it is true, but still very insufficient--works of benevolence and philanthropy, and the beauties of a merely moral life; some who would welcome death itself if it would but remove their agony of doubt. I do not say these things, my Protestant friends, if any such are present, to mock your miseries. Far from it. I know you too well. I love you too much. I say these things to lead you to truth and peace. I call to you struggling with the waves, from the rock whereon our feet have found a resting-place. I speak to you to the same effect as Christ spoke to the woman at the well of Jacob, who was a member of the schismatical Samaritan Church. You worship you know not what. We know what we worship; for salvation is of the Jews. You know not what you worship. Your religion is at the best one of doubt and uncertainty. We know what we worship. We are certain we are right, for salvation is of us. We are the Israelites. To us belongeth the adoption of children, and the glory, and the covenant, and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises. {428} This is the mountain of the Lord established in the last days on the top of the mountains, and exalted above the hills, into which the nations flow. O you who know not this home of peace, God did not make you to be as you are, to be tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine, to follow blind guides, to give your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which satisfieth not. No, come with us and be happy. Come with us and be blessed. Come, let us go the mountain of the Lord, and to the house of the God of Jacob, and He will teach us His ways, and we will walk in His paths, for the law shall come forth from Sion, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. Incline your ear unto me and you shall live--the life of faith--the life of certainty and hope. You shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace. Instead of the shrub shall come up the fir tree: and instead of the nettle shall come up the myrtle tree. All nature shall sympathise in your happiness. The mountains and hills shall break forth into singing before you, and all the trees of the country shall clap their hands. And you, my dear Catholics, be not indifferent to the graces God has given you, nor slothful in their use. You have it your power to make sure your salvation. About the means there is no uncertainty. They are infallible. It is of the Catholic Church that the prophet spoke when he said: "_A path shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called a holy way, and this shall be unto you a straight way, so that even fools shall not err therein_." [Footnote 172] And again: "_This saith the Lord God: I will lay a stone in the foundation of Sion, a tried stone, a corner-stone, a precious stone, founded in the foundation_." [Footnote 173] [Footnote 172: Isai. xxxv. 8.] [Footnote 173: Ibid. xxviii. 16.] {429} A way to heaven in this dark, uncertain world! a straight, a sure, a certain way! A rock under our feet under this swelling sea! O my brethren, what blessings are these! Let them not be in vain. Be not found at the last day with your lights gone out! The just shall live by faith. Live by yours. Do you wish to advance in a good life? Your faith tells you how. Does sin wage a war against you? Your faith tells you how to meet the combat. Are you in sin? Your faith tells you how to be forgiven. Correspond, then, honestly with this faith, and you may enjoy a firm hope of heaven, a hope not based on excited feelings, not claiming to be a direct inspiration from on high, but a reasonable hope, that will stay by you in adversity, and support you at the hour of death. Claim, then, your privilege. Assert the freedom wherewith Christ has made you free. Be not troubled or anxious all your days. Do your part, act up to your Catholic conscience, then lift up your heads, eat your bread with joy, and let your garments be always white, for God now accepteth your works. In this is the love of God perfected in us, that we may have confidence in the day of judgment. "_Wherefore, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord_." [Footnote 174] [Footnote 174: I. Cor. xv. 58.] ---------------------------------- Sermon XXII. The Presence Of God. (Fifth Sunday After Pentecost.) "Indeed the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not. How terrible is this place; this is no other than the house of God and the gate of heaven." --Gen XVIII. 16,17. These words were spoken by the Patriarch Jacob when he was journeying to Syria to visit his uncle. He had stopped for the night at a place which was afterward called Bethel, and as he lay on the ground with a stone for his pillow, the Lord appeared to him in a vision, and blessed him, and foretold his future greatness and increase. {430} Then, penetrated with a sense of the nearness and greatness of God, with whom he had been conversing, he rose up and exclaimed: "Indeed the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not." And trembling, he said: "How terrible is this place; this is no other than the house of God, and the gate of heaven." Now, my brethren, we may make every morning and every night a similar declaration. Wherever we are, we may say: "Indeed the Lord is in this place." Every spot on earth, on which a man tarries for a moment, becomes the house of God, and the gate of heaven. You understand what I mean. I am speaking of the omnipresence of God. Reason and faith both proclaim to us this great truth of the universal presence of God. He is present by His immensity to all creatures in the universe, whether living or inanimate. When God created the world, He did not leave it to itself. He sustains it by His presence and power, and it is in Him that we live and move and have our being. He is present to our intellectual and moral being as the light of reason and the object of the will, for without Him there would be no rational or moral life. He is present with us also as the source of that supernatural life which begins in baptism and ends in the uncreated vision of the Blessed Trinity in heaven. "He that loveth Me, shall be loved by My Father; and I will love him, and will manifest Myself to him. * * * And My Father will love him, and We will come to him, and will make an abode with him." [Footnote 175] [Footnote 175: St. John xiv. 21, 23.] O my brethren, what a piercing thought is this of the presence of God, if we did but realize it! Think for a moment of the doctrine of the real presence of our Lord in the Holy Eucharist. We believe that Jesus Christ, true God and true man, with His deity, His soul, His flesh and blood, is present in the holy sacrament of the altar. What consequences this doctrine has! {431} The whole Catholic ritual, the ceremonies of worship, the respect paid to churches, the bowing of the knees, the incense, the lights, the music--all flow from this. In the early ages, during the times of persecution, it was customary for Christians to take home with them the Blessed Sacrament, that they might communicate themselves in case of necessity. Imagine that such were the custom now. Imagine you were to take away with you, this day, as you left the church, and carry to your homes, the sacred host which is kept in the tabernacle. How silently would you go along the streets! With what care would you seek out a place for our Saviour's body to repose in! With what care would you go about your home as long as He remained your guest! How would your heart thrill as you reflected, on a awaking in the morning, that indeed the Lamb of God, once crucified for you, was now a dweller in your own home! Yet, if such were the case, if the Blessed Sacrament were actually kept in your houses and in your rooms, God would not be any more present to you than He is now. He is indeed present in a different manner in the Blessed Eucharist. That sacramental presence, that sweet, precious, consoling presence of the body once broken, and the blood once shed for us, is confined to the sacramental species. But the presence of the deity, the real presence of God, is just as much outside as it is inside the church; just as much with us when we are at home as when we are at Mass. Not if His footstep shook the heavens and the earth, as it will on the Last Day when He comes to judgment, would God be one whit closer to us or more present to us than He is now to everyone of us, every day, and everywhere. Even sin cannot separate us from God. We sometimes say that mortal sin separates a man from God. As a figure of speech, implying the loss of God's grace and friendship which sin occasions, this language may pass, but taken literally it is untrue. A man can never be separated from God. That would be annihilation. Even when we are in sin, even when we are committing sin, God is with us and in us, the soul of our soul, the life of our life. {432} Yes, here is a bond that can never be broken. Never can we escape that awful presence--never for a moment, here or hereafter. We shall not be more in God's presence in heaven or less in hell than we are now at this moment. God is not a God afar off up in heaven. He is here. This whole universe is only God's shadow. Every thing that is attests, not only God's creating power, but His living presence. He is in the flames and in the light, and in the pastures, in the air, in the ground, in the body, and in the soul, in the head, in the eye, in the ear, and in the heart. He is in us, and we are in Him, bathed in His presence as in an ocean, breathing in it as in an atmosphere. This is what the Psalmist expresses so beautifully: "_Whither shall I go from Thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from Thy face? If I ascend into heaven, thou art there; if I descend into hell, thou art present; if I take my wings early in the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there also shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me. And I said: Perhaps darkness shall cover me; and night shall be light in my pleasures. But darkness shall not be dark to thee; and night shall be light as the day; the darkness thereof, and the light thereof, are alike to Thee_." [Footnote 176] [Footnote 176: Ps. cxxviii. 7-12.] If we thought more frequently of this, how many sins should we avoid! When a man is going to commit a crime, he takes precautions against discovery. He seeks out a secret place. He chooses a fitting hour. Vain precautions! There is no secret place on earth, no lonely spot, no time of darkness. There is a proverb among men that "walls have ears," and the counsel of the wise man is, "_Detract not the king, no, not in thy thought; and speak not evil of the rich man in thy private chamber; because even the birds of the air will carry the voice; and he that hath wings will tell what thou hast said_." [Footnote 177] [Footnote 177: Eccles. x. 20.] {433} What is it that has impressed on men this universal fear of detection? Is it not an unconscious acknowledgment of the presence of God? Yes, we cannot shut the door against Him. We cannot leave Him out. We cannot draw the blind before His eye. "_The eyes of the Lord in every place behold the good and the evil." [Footnote 178] "Before that Philip called thee, when thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee,_" [Footnote 179] said our Lord to Nathanael. [Footnote 178: Prov. xv. 3.] [Footnote 179: St. John i. 48.] I wish you thought more of this; I am sure it would save you from many a sin. I have read of a holy man who, on hearing a person say that circumstances were favorable to the commission of a shameful sin, because no one was present, exclaimed: "What! are you not ashamed to do that before the living God which you would be ashamed to do before a man like yourself?" Even the eye of a dog has restrained men from the commission of crime--how much more ought the eye of God! Listen to the language you hear as you pass through the streets. The sacred names of God and Jesus Christ, how they are bandied about! Would men speak so, if they realized that God and Christ were then and there present? Would they insult God to His face? Suppose our Saviour were to appear to one of these men as he was pouring out his oaths and blasphemies, in the guise in which He was as He journeyed to Calvary to die for man, with sorrow in His eye, and sweat and blood on His forehead, with weak and faltering steps, and lips mute, but full of appealing love and agony; would he still go on with his dreadful oaths? No! The knee would be bent, the head would be bowed, and the very ground on which He walked would be regarded with reverent awe. Why so? Merely because he saw Him with his bodily eyes? Would it not be the same, if he were to close His eyes, and yet be aware of His presence? And is He not present to you as truly as if you saw Him, hearing each imprecation and blasphemy which you utter? {434} Oh, spare Him! spare those sacred ears; spare His majesty and His goodness, and cease to profane His holy name. Tertullian, speaking of the early Christians, says they talked as those who believed that God was listening. Let the thought of God's presence be deeply graven on your soul, and it will teach you to use the language of a Christian--at least it will cure you of blasphemy. It will cure you also of another sin of the tongue: that is of falsehood. Lying implies a virtual denial of God's presence, as well as blasphemy. When you lie, you forget the there is One who know's the truth--who is Himself the Eternal Truth; and you act as if He knew not, or would be a party to your fraud. Every lie is, in this respect, like the lie of Ananias and Sapphira--a lie to God. Oh! how much must God be displeased by all the sins He witnesses. It is said of righteous Lot, that from day to day he vexed his righteous soul at all the sins which he witnessed in Sodom, where he dwelt. How must the Holy God be vexed every day at all the dark deeds, the injustices, the impurities, the falsehoods, the deceits, the treacheries, the cruelties, to which men compel Him to be a witness! Is it not a necessity that Christ should come with ten thousand of His saints to take vengeance on the ungodly! Would it not seem, otherwise, that God made Himself a party to our sins by keeping silence? "_These things hast thou done_," says the Almighty, "_and I was silent. Thou thoughtest unjustly that I shall be like to thee: but I will reprove thee, and set before thy face_." [Footnote 180] [Footnote 180: Ps. xlix. 21.] David committed adultery in secret; but God declared to him that He would punish him before all Israel, and in the sight of the sun. So the Judgment Day will bring to light every secret thing, and manifest, in the sight of all, those hidden sins which have been committed in the presence and with the full knowledge of God. {435} They have never been hidden from God, and the disclosures of the Last Day are only the Presence and the Knowledge of God asserting and manifesting themselves to men. The thought of God, and of His Omnipresence, is thus the greatest preservative against sin. But this is not all. The thought of God's perpetual and universal presence is our greatest strength and consolation. What a comfort it would be to have a friend, who loved us truly, who was most sincerely desirous of our welfare and happiness, who was very wise and able to help us in difficulties, never variable or capricious, but always true and faithful and trustworthy! The possession of such a friend will go as far as any thing earthly can go to make one perfectly happy. Now, each one of us really has such a friend. Such a friend? Ah! far better, far wiser, far more loving--even the good God! God, in the Holy Scriptures, represents the soul of man as a garden, in which it is His delight to walk about. What an idea this gives us of the familiarity a man may have with God. Why do not men take advantage of this loving condescension? Why do they not converse with God? Why do they not think of Him? The face of Moses shone after he had been talking to God on Mount Sinai, and our countenance would be light and joyous if we dwelt more in God's presence. Oh, to think of it! When we walk in the streets, when we sit down and rise up, there is one ever at our side--no, not at our side; but in us--our very life and being; God, the Beautiful and Good. God, Who made the heavens and the earth; the God of our fathers. God, Who has been the comfort and stay of the just in all ages, Who talked with Abraham, and went before the children of Israel in a cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night. God, Who gave manna from heaven, Who spoke by the prophets, and in the still, small voice on Mount Horeb; Who awoke Samuel, as he lay sleeping in his little crib in the priest's chamber, and chose David, the youth, fair and of a ruddy countenance, to be the prince of His people; and who, in these last days, hath revealed Himself in His Only Begotten Son, full of grace and truth. {436} He it is Who is with you and me, even from our youth unto this day. O thou who art afflicted, tossed with tempests and not comforted, what dost thou want?--what wouldst thou have? The Eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath thee are the everlasting arms. Thou hast but to open thy soul, and floods of comfort and strength will pour into thee. Art thou weak? He is thy Strength. Art thou sad and lonely? He is thy Consoler. Art thou guilty? He is thy Redeemer--the God ready to pardon. Does the world allure thee? His Beauty will make its attractions pale. Is thy heart weary and inconstant? He is unfailing and unchanging. O source of strength, too much slighted! O happiness, too often blindly rejected! In the presence of God there is pleasure and life. "_They that hope in the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall take wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." "For He is a covert from the wind, a hiding-place from the storm, as rivers of waters in a dry place, and the shadow of a great rock in a weary land_." [Footnote 181] [Footnote 181: Isai. xl. 31; xxxii. 2.] Learn, then, my brethren, to keep yourselves in the presence of God. To forget God, what is it, but to plunge ourselves into sin and misery. To remember God, what is it, but to be strong and happy. "Walk before Me, and be thou perfect," said God to Abraham. That is the secret of perfection, the way to heaven. It is not necessary to go out of your own mind. It is not necessary to lift the eye to heaven, or bend the knee. Closer than the union of soul and body is the union between God and thee. {437} Quicker than thought is the communion between thy soul and its Maker. "_Thou shalt cry_," says the Almighty, "_and I will say: Here I am--yea, even before thy call, I will hear, and even while thou art yet speaking I will answer_." [Footnote 182] [Footnote 182: Isai. lviii. 9; lxv. 24.] Practise, then, attention to the presence of God. I do not speak so much now of daily prayers, and of your devotions in the church. But when you are abroad in the busy world, or in your homes, accustom yourselves from time to time to think of God. Complicated pieces of machinery require the care of an overseer from time to time, lest they get out of gear. So we must think of God from time to time during the day, and keep the powers of our soul in harmony with the will of God, lest they fall into disorder, and the work of life be hindered. It is not a work of very great difficulty. The chief difficulty lies in its simplicity. It is so much easier to pray than we think, that oftentimes we have already prayed when we are perplexing ourselves how to pray, and busying ourselves with preparing to pray. God is in us, in the very centre of our soul. He knows its most secret thoughts, and thus a simple act of the will is enough to bring us into communion with Him. To realize this is to be men of prayer, to be as happy as it is possible for us to be in this life, and to begin here that contemplation of God which will constitute our everlasting beatitude in heaven. ----------------------------------------- Sermon XXIII. Keeping The Law Not Impossible. (Ninth Sunday After Pentecost.) "I can do all things in Him who strengtheneth me." --Phil. VI. 13. If I am not mistaken, a very great number of the sins that men commit, are committed through hopelessness. The pleasures of sin are by no means unmixed. Indeed, sin is a hard master; and all who practise it find it so. {438} I never met a man who said it was a good thing, or that it made him happy. On the contrary, all lament it, and say that it makes them miserable. Why, then, do they commit it? Very often, I am persuaded, because they think they have no power to resist it. They feel in themselves strong passions; they have yielded to them in times past, they see that others yield to them, and so they come to think it impossible not to yield to them. The law of God is too difficult, they say. It is impossible to keep it. It may do for priests or nuns who are cut off from the world, or for women, or for the old, or for children, but for us who mix in the world, whose blood is warm, and whose passions are strong, it is too high and pure. It is all very well to talk about; it is all very well to hold up a high standard to us, but you must not expect us to attain it. The utmost that you can expect of us is to stop sinning, now and then, and make the proper acknowledgments to God by going to confession; but actually to try not to sin, to keep on endeavoring not to sin at any time, or under any circumstances, that is impossible, or at least so extremely difficult that, practically speaking, it is impossible. Are there none of you, my brethren, who recognise this as the secret language of your hearts? Is there not an impression in your minds that the law of God is too strict, or at least that it is too strict for you, and that you cannot keep it? If so, do not harbor it. It is a fatal error. No; it is not impossible to keep God's law. It is not impossible to keep from mortal sin. It is, I admit, impossible to keep from every venial sin, though even here we can do a great deal, if we try. Such is the frailty of human nature that even the best men, as time goes on, fall into some slight faults, only the Blessed Virgin having been able, as we believe, to pass a whole life without even in the smallest thing offending God. But it is possible for all of us to keep from mortal sin, at all times and under all circumstances. This, I think, you will acknowledge when you consider the character of God, the nature of God's law, and the power of God's grace which is promised to us. {439} I say the character of God is a pledge of our ability to keep from mortal sin. God requires us to be free from mortal sin, and He requires it under the severest penalties, and therefore it must be possible for us. You may say, "God requires us to be free from venial sin too, and yet you have just said we cannot avoid every venial sin." But the case is far different. A venial sin does not separate us from God, and does not receive extreme punishment from Him--nay, those venial sins which even good men commit, and which are only in small part voluntary, are very easily forgiven--but a mortal sin cuts us off entirely from God, and deserves eternal punishment. You know, one mortal sin is enough to damn a man--one single sin of drunkenness, for instance, or impurity; a cherished hatred, a false oath, or an act of grave injustice. One such sin is sufficient to sink a man in hell, and although we know very little in particular of the torments of hell, we have every reason to believe that they are most bitter, and we know that they are eternal. Now, can it be thought that a being of justice and goodness, as we know God to be, would inflict so extreme a punishment for an offence which was unavoidable, or could only be avoided with the utmost difficulty? Holy Scripture sends us to an earthly parent for an example of that tenderness and affection which we are to expect from our Heavenly Father. "_If you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven, give good things to them that ask Him_." [Footnote 183] [Footnote 183: St. Matt. vii. 11.] What would be the thought of an earthly father who laid upon his son a command which it was all but impossible for him to comply with, and then punished him with the utmost rigor for not fulfilling it? {440} You would not call that man a father, but a tyrant; a tyrant like Pharaoh, who would not give straw to the children of Israel, and yet set taskmasters over them to exact of them the full measure of bricks as when straw had been given them. Why, if you were going along the street and saw a man whipping unmercifully an overloaded horse, you would not bear it patiently. And would you attribute conduct so disgraceful among men to our Father in heaven? God forbid! Far be such a thought from us! It is not so. We must not think it. At least we cannot think it as long as we remain Catholics; for when the earlier Protestants proclaimed the shocking doctrine that though God punished men for disobeying his law, man was really unable to obey it, the Church branded the doctrine as a heresy to be abhorred of all men, as most false in itself, and most injurious to God. No; God loves his creatures far more than we conceive of: He does not desire the death of a sinner. He wills truly the salvation of all men. His goodness and mercy, His truth and justice, are all so many infallible guarantees of our ability to keep His law. He would not have given us His law unless He had meant us to keep it. He would not punish us so severely for breaking it, unless our breaking it was an act of deliberate, wilful, determined rebellion. But there is another source from which I draw the conclusion that it is possible to keep the law of God--from the nature of the law itself. The law of God is of such a nature that, for the most part, in order to commit mortal sin, it is necessary to do or to leave undone some external act, which of its own nature it is entirely in our power to do or not to do. For instance, the law says, "_Thou shalt not steal;_" now, to steal, you have got to put your hand into your neighbor's pocket. The law says: "_Thou shalt do no murder;_" to murder, you must stretch out your hand against your neighbor's life. Nay, it requires ordinarily several external actions before a mortal sin is consummated. Thus the thief has his precautions to take, and his plans to lay. {441} The drunkard has to seek the occasion. He seeks the grogshop. Every step he takes is a separate act. When he gets there, it is not the first glass that makes him drunk. He drinks again and again, and it is only after all these different and repeated actions that he falls into the mortal sin of drunkenness. Now, here you see are external acts--acts in which the hand, the foot, the lips, are concerned, and which, therefore, it is perfectly in our power to do or to let alone. This requires no proof, but admits of a striking illustration. You have heard of the great sufferings of the martyrs; how some of them were stoned to death, others flayed alive, others crucified, others torn to pieces by wild beasts, others burned to death. Now, what was it all about? You answer, "They suffered because they would not deny Christ." Very well; but how were they required to deny Christ? "What was it they were required to do? I will tell you. Sometimes they were required to take a few grains of incense and throw it on the altar of Jupiter; that would have been enough to have saved them from their sufferings. They need not have said, 'I renounce Christ;" only to have taken the incense would have been sufficient. Sometimes they were required to tread on the cross. Sometimes to swear by the genius of the Roman emperor; that was all. And the fire was kindled to make them do these things; but they would not. The flames leaped upon them, but not a foot would they lift from the ground. Their hands were burnt to the bone, but no incense would they touch. The marrow of their bones melted in the heat, and forced from them a cry of agony, but the name of the emperor's tutelary genius did not pass their lips. Now, will you tell me that you cannot help doing what the martyrs would not do to save them from death? They had a fire before them and a scourge behind them, and they refused; and you say you cannot help yourself when you are under no external violence whatever! They died rather than lift a hand to do a forbidden thing; have you not the same power over your hand that they had? {442} They died rather than utter a sinful word; have you not as much power over your tongue as they? Indeed you have, for you control both one and the other whenever you will. I say there is no sinner whose conduct does not show that his actions are perfectly in his own power. The thief waits for the night to carry on his trade; during the day he is honest enough. The greatest libertine knows how to behave himself in the presence of a high-born and virtuous female. And even that vice which men say it is most difficult of all to restrain when once the habit is formed--profane swearing--you know how to restrain it when you will, for even the heaviest curser and swearer ceases from his oaths before the priest, or any other friend whom he greatly respects. Now, if you can stop cursing before the priest, why can you not before your wife and children? If you can be chaste in the presence of a virtuous female, why can you not be chaste everywhere? If you can be honest when the eye of man is on you, why can you not be honest when no eye sees you but that of God? "But," someone may say, "there is a class of sins to which the remarks you have made do not apply, that is, sins of thought. You must admit that they are of such a nature that it is all but impossible not to commit them." No, I do not admit it. I acknowledge that sins of thought are more difficult to guard against than sins of action; but I do not acknowledge that it is impossible to guard against them. To prove this, I have only to remind you that an evil thought is no sin until we give _consent_ to it. To keep always free from evil thoughts may be impossible, because the imagination is in its nature so volatile, that but few men have it in control; but, though it be not possible to restrain the imagination, it is always possible to restrain the will. In order for the will to consent to evil it is necessary both to _know_ and to _choose_, and therefore from the nature of the thing one can never fall into sin either inevitably or unawares. {443} And besides, the will has a powerful ally in the conscience, whose province it is to keep us from sin and to reproach us when we do sin--so that it is scarcely possible, for one who habitually tries to keep free from mortal sin, to fall into it without his conscience giving a distinct and unmistakable report. And this is so certain that spiritual writers say that a person of good life and tender conscience, who is distressed with the uncertainty whether or no he has given consent to an evil temptation, ought to banish that anxiety altogether and to be sure that he has not consented. But suppose these evil temptations are importunate, and remain in the soul even when we resist them, and try to turn from them? No matter. They do not become sins on that account; nay, they become the occasion of acts of great virtue. It is related in the life of St. Catharine of Sienna that on one occasion that pure virgin's soul was assailed by the most horrible temptations of the devil. They lasted for a long time, and after the conflict our Saviour appeared to her with a serene countenance. "O my Divine Spouse," she said, "where wast thou when I was enduring these conflicts?" "In thy soul," he replied. "What, with all these filthy abominations?" "Yes, they were displeasing and painful to thee; this therefore was thy merit, and thy victory was owing to My presence." So that we see even here, where the danger is greatest, the law of God exacts of us nothing but what in its own nature is in our power to do or not to do. But if you wish another proof of your ability to keep God's law, I allege the _power of His grace_. I can imagine an objector saying: "You have not touched the real difficulty, after all. The difficulty is not on God's side; no doubt. He is good and holy. Neither are the requirements of his law so very hard. The difficulty is in us. We are fallen by nature. We have sinned after baptism. We are so weak, so frail, that to us continued observance of the divine commandments is impossible." No, my brethren, neither is this true. {444} It is not true from the mouth of any man; least of all from the mouth of a Christian. "No temptation," says the Apostle, "_hath taken hold of you but Such as is human: And God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you are able; but will also with the temptation make a way of escape that you may be able to bear it_." [Footnote 184] [Footnote 184: I Cor. x. 13.] The weakest and frailest are strong enough with God's grace, and this grace He is ready to give to those that need it. At all times and in all places He has been ready to give His grace to them that need it, but especially is this true under the gospel. The Holy Scriptures make this the distinguishing characteristic of the times of the gospel, that they shall abound in grace. "_Take courage, and fear not_," the prophet says, in anticipation of the time when Christ should come in the flesh, "_Behold, God will come and save you. Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb shall be free; for waters are broken out of the desert, and streams in the wilderness. And that which was dry land shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water_." [Footnote 185] Such was the promise, hundreds of years before Christ, of a time of peace, of happiness and grace; and when our Lord was come, He published that the good time had indeed arrived: "_The spirit of the Lord hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor. He hath sent me to heal the contrite of heart. To preach deliverance to the captive, and sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord_." [Footnote 186] [Footnote 185: Is. xxxv. 4-7.] [Footnote 186: St. Luke iV. 18, 19.] Yes, the great time has come; the cool of the day; the evening of the world; the time when labor is light and reward abundant. O my brethren, you know not what a privilege it is to be a Christian! You enter a church. You see a priest in his confessional. A penitent is kneeling at his feet. {445} The sight makes but little impression on you, for you are accustomed to it, but this is that "_fountain_" promised by the prophet "_to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for the washing of the sinner;_" a fountain that flows from the Saviour's side, and not only cleanses, but strengthens and makes alive. You pass an altar. The priest is giving communion. Stop! it is the Lord himself! the bread of angels! the wine of virgins! the food "_whereof if a man eat he shall live forever_." And not only in the church do you find grace; it follows you home. You shut your door behind you, and your Father in heaven waits to hear and grant your prayer. Nay, at all times God is with you, for you are the temple of God, and He sits on the throne of your heart to scatter His grace on you whenever and wherever you ask Him. Do not say, then, Christian, that you are unable to do what God requires of you. It is a sin of black ingratitude to say so. Even if it were impossible for others to keep the law of God, it is not for you. He hath not done to every nation as he hath done to you. When the patriarch Jacob was dying, he blessed all his children, but his richest blessing was for Joseph. So God has blessed all the children of His hand, but you, Christian, are the Joseph whom He hath loved more than all His other sons. To others He hath given of "_dew dew of heaven_," and "_the fatness of the earth_," but you "_He hath blessed with all spiritual blessings in Christ_." Away, then, with the notion that obedience to the commandments of God is impracticable--a notion dishonorable to God and to ourselves. It is possible to keep free from mortal sin--for all--at all times, under all temptations. Nay, I will say more. It is, on the whole, easier to live a life of Christian obedience, than a life of sin. I say "on the whole," for I do not deny that here and there, in particular cases, it is harder to do right than wrong; but taking life all through, one who restrains his passions will have less trouble than one who indulges them. {446} Heroic actions are not required of us every day. In order to be a Christian, it is not necessary to be always high-strung and enthusiastic. It is not necessary to be a devotee, to adopt set and precise ways, to take up with hypocrisy and cant--in a word, to be unmanly. It is just, for the most part, the most matter of fact, the most practical, the most simple and straight-forward thing in the world. It is to be a man of principle. It is to have a serious, abiding purpose to do our duty. It is to be full of courage; not the courage of the braggart, but the courage of the soldier--the courage that thrives under opposition, and survives defeat, the courage that takes the means to secure success--vigilance, humility, steadfastness, and prayer. Before this, all difficulties vanish, and this is what we want most of all. It is amazing how little courage there is in the world. We are like the servant of Eliseus, the prophet, who, when he awoke in the morning, and saw the great army that had been sent by the King of Syria to take his master, said, "_Alas, alas, alas, my lord; what shall we do!_" But Eliseus showed him another army--the army of angels ranged on the mountain, with chariots of fire and horses of fire, ready to fight for the servants of God, and he said, "_Fear not: for there are more with us than with them_." [Footnote 187] [Footnote 187: IV. Kings vi. 15-17.] Why should we fear? Christianity is no new thing. The path of Christian obedience is not an untried path. Thousands have trod it and are now enjoying their reward. God, and the angels, and the saints, are on our side. And there are multitudes of faithful souls in the word who are fighting the good fight, and keeping their souls unsullied. We cannot distinguish them now, but one day we shall know them. Oh! let us join them. Yes, we will make our resolution now. Others may guide themselves by pleasure or expediency; we will adopt the language of the Psalmist: "_Thy Word is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my paths_." [Footnote 188] [Footnote 188: Ps. cxviii. 105.] {447} We will be Christians, not in name, but in deed. Not for a time only, but always. One thought shall cheer us in sadness and nerve us in weakness, "_I have sworn and am determined to keep the judgments of Thy justice_." [Footnote 189] [Footnote 189: Ibid. 106.] --------------------------------- Sermon XXIV. The Spirit Of Sacrifice.. (For The Feast Of St. Laurence, Martyr.) "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing to God, your reasonable service." --Rom. XVII. 1. There is, my brethren, among many men who practise Christian duties to a certain extent, one remarkable want. I will call it the want of the Spirit of Sacrifice. Compare such men with any of the saints, and you will see at once what I mean. One saint may differ a great deal from another, but this is common to them all--a vivid sentiment of God's greatness and Sovereignty, of His right to do with us what He wills, and a willing and reverent recognition of that right. Now the defective Christianity to which I allude lacks this spirit altogether. It differs from the Christianity of the saints not only in degree but in kind. Not only does it fail to produce _as many_ sacrifices as the saints made for God, but the idea of Sacrifice is completely strange and foreign to it. It bargains about the commandments of God, and, when any commandment is difficult, postpones fulfilment, or refuses it altogether. To prevent any of you from being content with so imperfect and unsatisfactory a sort of religion, I will give you this morning some reasons why you should aim to serve God in the spirit of sacrifice. {448} First, then, I assert that the spirit of sacrifice is necessary. God requires it of us. On this point I think some people make a mistake. They seem to think that a willingness to make sacrifices for God is one of the ornamental or heroic parts of religion, and that everyday people are not required to have it. But this is not so. The Spirit of Sacrifice is required of everyone. I infer this from the fact that an external sacrificial worship is necessary. It is frequently said that there is no religion without a sacrifice. And this is true. There never has been, nor indeed could there be, a true religion without having some external act of sacrificial worship. But why is this necessary? Not simply because we are sinners and need propitiation, for some theologians have thought that sacrifices would have been necessary, though man had never sinned. What religion requires a sacrifice for, is this--to express our sense of God's supreme Sovereignty. In a Sacrifice there is something offered to God and destroyed, thus signifying that God is the Author of Life and Death, our Creator, our Ruler, our Supreme Judge. The excellence of the Christian Sacrifice--the Sacrifice of the Mass--consists in this, that the victim offered is a living, reasonable, Divine Victim, even the Son of God Incarnate, Who by His Life and Death rendered most worthy homage to the Divine Majesty, and still in every Mass, continually, offers it anew. This, then, is what the Mass is given us for, and this is why we are required to assist at the Mass, that we may in a perfect and worthy manner recognize God's Sovereignty and our dependence on Him. When we assist at Mass, the meaning of our action, if put into words, would be something like this: "I acknowledge Thee, O God, for my Sovereign Lord, and the Supreme Disposer of my Life and Death, and because I am not able worthily to express Thy Greatness, I beg of Thee to accept, as if it were my own, all the submission with which Thy Son honored Thee on the Cross, and now again honors Thee in this Holy Sacrifice." {449} Now, it cannot be imagined that we are required to make this profession to God without at the same time being required to have in our hearts that sentiment of God's greatness and sovereignty which we express with our lips. Our Lord did not come to suffer and die, and give His life [as] a sacrifice to the Father, to dispense us from the obligation of worshipping God ourselves, but to give to our worship a perfect example and a higher acceptability. Without our worship the Mass is incomplete. On our Lord's part, indeed, the Sacrifice of the Mass is always efficacious, for He is present wherever it is celebrated; but on our part it is empty and unmeaning if no one really fears God, submits unreservedly to Him, is willing to do all He commands, and acknowledges that all that could be done for Him is too little. A worship of Sacrifice implies a life of sacrifice. This is beautifully illustrated in the life of St. Laurence, whose Martyrdom we celebrate to-day. St. Laurence was one of the seven deacons of the city of Rome in the third century of the Christian era. As deacon, it was his office to serve the Mass of St. Xystus, who was at that time Pope. "When the persecution broke out under the Emperor Valerius, St. Xystus was seized and carried off to martyrdom. As he was on his way, St. Laurence followed him weeping and saying: "Father where are you going without your son? Whither are you going, O holy priest, without your deacon? You were not wont to offer sacrifice without me your minister, wherein have I displeased you? Have you found me wanting to my duty? Try me now and see whether you have made choice of an unfit minister for dispensing the Blood of the Lord." And St. Xystus replied: "I do not leave you, my son, but a greater trial and a more glorious victory are reserved for you who are stout and in the vigor of youth. We are spared on account of our weakness and old age. You shall follow me in three days." And, in fact, three days after, St. Laurence was burnt to death, his faith rendering him joyful, even mirthful in his sufferings. {450} Now, I do not look on this conversation as poetry. Times of affliction are not times when men look around for fine ways of expressing themselves. At such times words come straight from the heart. I see, then, in the words of St. Laurence the sentiments with which he was accustomed to assist at Mass. As he knelt at the foot of the altar at which the Pope was celebrating, clothed in the beautiful dress of a deacon, his soul was filled with the thoughts of God's greatness and goodness, and along with the offering of the heavenly Victim, he used to offer to God his fervent desire to do something to honor the Divine Majesty, the color sometimes mounting high in his youthful cheek as he thought how joyfully he would yield his own heart's blood as a sacrifice, if the occasion should offer. Martyrdom to him was but a natural completion of Mass. It was but the realisation of his habitual worship. In the early history of the city of St. Augustine, in Florida, it is related that a priest, who was attacked by a party of Indians, asked permission to say Mass before he died. This was granted him, and the savages waited quietly till the Mass was ended. Then the priest knelt on the altar steps and received the death-blow from his murderers. With what sentiments must that priest have said Mass! with what devotion! with what reverence! with what self-oblation! So, I suppose St. Laurence, and St. Xystus, and the Christians of the old time were accustomed always to assist at Mass, with the greatest desire to honor God, the most complete spirit of self-sacrifice. Now, I do not say we are all bound to be as holy as these great saints. I do not even say we are bound to desire martyrdom; but I do say there is not one kind of Christianity for the saints and another for ordinary Christians; one kind, all self-denial for them, and another kind, all self-indulgence, for us. {451} I say God is to us what He is to the saints--our Creator and our Sovereign; and He demands of us the worship of creatures and subjects--the worship of _sacrifice_--a willingness to do all He demands of us now, and a readiness to do greater things the moment that He makes it known to us that such is His Will. How many difficulties, my brethren, such a spirit takes out of the way of Christian obedience! It cuts off at One blow all our struggles with the decrees of God's providence. How much of our misery comes from murmurings against the providence of God! One is suffering under sickness and pain, another is overwhelmed with reverses and afflictions, another is irritated by continual temptations. No one can deny that these are severe trials; but see how the spirit of sacrifice disposes of them. It says to the sick man, to the suffering man, what Isaac said to his father Abraham on the mountain: "See, here is fire and wood, but where is the victim for a burnt offering? Here are the materials for a beautiful act of sacrifice. It wants only a meek heart for a victim, and love to light the flame, to turn the sickbed, the house of mourning, the soul agitated by temptation, into an altar of the purest worship, and the language of complaint into the liturgy of praise. Again: it sometimes happens that a man gets involved in relations of business or friendship, or becomes addicted to some indulgence, which threaten to ruin his soul, and he is required to renounce them, to give up the intimacy, to change his business, to deny himself that indulgence. The command of God is distinct and peremptory: "_If thy hand or thy foot scandalize thee, cut it off and cast it from thee. And if thy eye scandalize thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee_." [Footnote 190] [Footnote 190: St. Matt. xviii. 8.] {452} How does he receive it? He says: "It is too hard." Too hard! And is it, then, only God for whom we are unwilling to do any thing hard? We must make sacrifices of some sort in life, and heavy ones, too. We cannot get rid of the necessity of making them, do what we will. The world requires them of us. Our families require them. Our health requires them. Our pleasure requires them. Nay, our very sins require them. And what we do willingly for the world, for our families, for our health, our pleasure, our sins, shall we refuse to do for the great and good God? for Christ our Saviour, who did not refuse the Cross to give us an example of the obedience we owe His Father? Or take another example: A person who is not a Catholic finds much that is reasonable in Catholic doctrine, but makes a great stumbling-block of confession; or even a Catholic gets a dread of it, and stays away for years and years from the sacraments of the Church. Now, of course, in such cases it is only charitable to show that the difficulty of confession is very much magnified, and that, like many other things that frighten us, it loses its terror when we approach it; but, to say the truth, I always feel something like shame when I hear one trying to prove to such persons that confession is easy; partly because I know he cannot succeed perfectly, since confession is of its own nature arduous, and in particular cases may be very difficult; but chiefly, because I cannot help thinking if God Himself were to answer them, it would be in the few strong words He has used in the Holy Scripture: "_Be still: and know that I am God_." [Footnote 191] A creature must not parley with his maker, a sinner with his Judge. [Footnote 191: Ps. xlv. 11.] {453} Yes: we shrink from the very mention of sacrifice, yet it is the spirit of sacrifice that makes all our duties easy. No doubt it is our privilege to reason about the commandments of God; and we shall often see, what we know is always the case, that they are full of wisdom and goodness; but we need in practice some principle that is ready at hand always to be used in every time of trial, in every difficulty, and that is the Spirit of Sacrifice, a profound reverence for God, an unquestioning conviction of His absolute right to dispose of us as He will. Abraham had this spirit, and therefore faltered not a moment when the command came to sacrifice his son Isaac. Moses had it, and therefore "_when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to suffer persecution with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasure of sin for a time_." [Footnote 192] [Footnote 192: Heb. xi. 24.] The Christian saints have had it, and therefore they trampled on every repugnance, every attachment, when it came in the way of their perfection. And this principle is the life of the great religious and charitable orders of the Church. These institutions are a mystery to Protestants. Soon after the "Little Sisters of the Poor" were established in London, a Protestant writer, in one of the periodicals of the day, described a visit he had made to their establishment, and after giving a most interesting account of the self-denying labors of the community, he says he was curious to trace the feelings that actuated these ladies in devoting themselves to duties so apt to be repulsive to their class. He supposed that benevolence was the impulse most concerned, but, on questioning the Sisters, found that this was not the case, but that the basis of their action was a principle of self-renunciation for Christ's sake. To him such a motive had in it something strange and unnatural; but, really, this is always the sustaining principle of all high religious action. Every thing fails sooner or later but the spirit of sacrifice. This is the spirit that does great things for God, that cuts down the mountains in our road to heaven and fills up the valleys, making straight paths for our feet. {454} And how pleasing is such a spirit to God! Even among men such a spirit is highly esteemed. Who does not admire a generous, self-sacrificing man? In a family, who is so much loved as the one whose thoughts are all for others? Where are such tears shed as over the fresh grave of a self-forgetful friend? What makes the character of a mother so beautiful but the trait of self-sacrifice? And so before God there is nothing so beautiful as the spirit of Sacrifice. A religion which does not centre in itself, but which centres in God, that is His delight. There is nothing abject in such a spirit. To serve God is to reign. God knows our nature, and He requires of us nothing but what gives to our whole being its highest harmony. The man who has the spirit of sacrifice is a royal man. How beautiful, my brethren, is an altar! Every thing connected in our minds with an altar is beautiful. When we think of an altar, we think of sweet flowers and burning lights, and smoking incense, and a meek victim, and worship, music, and prayer. So, in the heart where the spirit or Sacrifice reigns, there are sweet flowers of piety, and flaming zeal, and the silent victim of a heart that struggles not, and the incense of prayer, and the harmonies of joy and praise. Oh, if there is a sacred place on earth, a home of peace, a shrine, a holy of holies, a place where heaven and earth are nearest, where God descends and takes up His abode, it is in the heart of the man who is penetrated through and through with the sense of God's greatness, and who walks before Him in reverence and continual worship. My brethren, I covet for you such a spirit. I do not always find it among Catholics. I remember, some years ago, when collecting for a charitable object, I called on a man who was engaged in a large business, and asked for a contribution. He said, Oh yes, he thought highly of the undertaking, and wished to give a generous donation, say one hundred dollars. When I called for it at the appointed time, he asked me if I did not want any goods in his line. {455} They were articles of luxury, such as very few persons have occasion for, and I told him, no. Then he mentioned a rich gentleman with whom I happened to be acquainted, and asked me to secure for him his custom, intimating that this donation of one hundred dollars depended on my success. Now I do not know that this person was at all sensible of acting an unworthy part, but I think you must all feel that this was very far from the spirit in which one ought to give any thing to God; and yet, my brethren, inferior motives enter too much and too often into our religious actions. Selfishness mingles too much with our piety. Oh, how diluted, how paltry and feeble is our religion, compared with that of other times! David refused the site for an altar that Areuna offered him as a gift, saying: "_Nay but I will buy it of thee at a price; and will not offer to the Lord my God holocausts free cost_." [Footnote 193] [Footnote 193: 2 Kings xxiv. 24.] Magdalene took a box of spikenard ointment, because it was the most precious thing she had, and very costly, and broke the box, and poured it wastefully on the Saviour's head. [Footnote 194] [Footnote 194: St. Matt. xxvi. 7.] Those who have examined the cathedrals of Europe that were built in the Middle Ages, tell us that away up on the outside of the roof, there is found carving as rich, as beautiful, and as elaborate as that on the parts in full sight. A human eye would hardly see it once a year; no matter: it was done for the eye of God and the angels. Oh that you had such a spirit! I want you to think more of God. I want you to fear Him more deeply, and to love Him far, far more fervently. O my brethren, is the service you are rendering Him at all worthy of Him? Look at the earth and sky that He has made; look at the glorious Throne of Light from which He sways the universe, look at the Cross, look into your own hearts, and answer. "Holy things are for the Holy." "_Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised." [Footnote 195] "O Lord God Almighty, just and true, who shall not fear Thee and magnify Thy Name!_" [Footnote 196] "_As the eyes of servants are on the hands of their masters, and as the eyes of a handmaid are on the hands of her mistress, so our eyes are unto Thee, O Lord our God, Thou that dwellest in the heavens._" [Footnote 197] [Footnote 195: Psalm xlvii. 1.] [Footnote 196: Apoc. xv. 3.] [Footnote 197: Psalm cxxii. 2.] ------------------------------------ {456} Sermon XXV. Mary's Destiny A Type Of Ours. (The Feast Of The Assumption.) "Mary hath chosen the best part, which shall not be taken away from her." --St. Luke x. 42. To-day is the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. To-day she entered into the enjoyment of heaven. The trials and troubles of life are over. The time of banishment is ended. She closes her eyes on this world, and opens them to the vision of God. She is exalted to-day above the choirs of angels to the heavenly kingdom, and takes her seat at the right hand of her Son. I do not mean to attempt any description of her glory in heaven. I am sure whatever I could say would fall far short, not only of the reality, but of your own glowing thoughts about her. Who is there that needs to be told that the Blessed Virgin is splendid in sanctity, dazzling in beauty, and exalted in power? But, my brethren, it is possible to contemplate the Blessed Virgin in such a way as to put her at too great a distance from us. It is possible to conceive of her glory in heaven as flowing entirely from her dignity as Mother of God, and therefore to suppose it altogether unattainable by us; and, as a consequence of this, to regard her with feelings full of admiration indeed, but almost as deficient in sympathy as if she were of another nature from us. {457} Now, this is to rob ourselves of so ennobling and encouraging a part of our privilege as Christians, and at the same time to take away from our devotion to the Blessed Virgin an element so useful and important, that I have determined, on this her glorious Feast, to remind you that our destiny and the destiny of Mary are substantially the same. And the first proof I offer of this is, that the glory of the Blessed Virgin in heaven is _not_ owing to her character as Mother of God, but to her correspondence to grace--to her good works--to her love of God--in a word, to her fidelity as a Christian. This is certain, for it is the Catholic doctrine that the Blessed Virgin, like every other saint, gained heaven only as the reward of merit. Now, she could not merit it by becoming the Mother of God. Her being the Mother of God is indeed a most august dignity, but there is no merit in it. It is a dignity conferred on her by the absolute decree of God, just as He resolved to confer angelic nature on angels, or human nature on men. It is no doubt a great happiness and glory for us to be men, and not brutes, but there is no merit in it; so there is honor but no merit in the Blessed Virgin's being the Mother of God. Now, if she did not merit heaven by becoming the Mother of God, how did she merit it? for it is of faith that heaven is the reward of merit. I answer, by her life on earth. It was not as the Mother of God that she won heaven, but as Mary, the daughter of Joachim, the wife of Joseph, the mother of Jesus. It is impossible to read the Gospels without seeing how careful our Lord was to make us understand this. He seems to have been afraid, all along, that the splendor of that character of Mother of God would eclipse the woman and the saint. {458} Thus once when He was preaching, a woman in the crowd, hearing his words of wisdom, and, perhaps, piercing the veil of his humanity, and thinking what a blessed thing it must be to be the mother of such a son, exclaimed: "_Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps that gave thee suck,_" [Footnote 198] but He answered immediately: "_Yea rather, blessed are they who hear the word of God and keep it_." No one doubts that the Blessed Virgin did hear the Word of God, and keep it. So our Lord's words are as much as to say: "You praise my mother for being my mother; what I praise her for is her sanctity." In the same way, when they came to Him on another occasion, when there was a great throng about Him and said, "_Behold, thy mother and thy brethren stand without, seeking thee_," He answered, "_Who is my mother? and who are my brethren? And stretching forth his hand towards his disciples, he said: Behold my mother and my brethren. For whosoever shall do the will of my Father who is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother_. [Footnote 199] [Footnote 198: St. Luke xi. 27.] [Footnote 199: St. Matt. xii. 48.] External advantages, however great, even to be related to the Son of God, are as nothing in his sight, compared to that in which all may have a part--obedience to his Father's will. Perhaps, also, this is the explanation of his language at the marriage of Cana in Galilee. When the wine failed, and his mother came to Him and asked Him to exert his Divine power to supply the want, He said: "_Woman, what hast thou to do with me? My time is not yet come_." [Footnote 200] [Footnote 200: St. John ii. 4 (Archbishop Kenrick's translation).] He does not allow her request on the score of her maternal authority, but what He refuses on this ground He grants to her virtue and holiness, for He immediately proceeds to perform the miracle she asked for, though, as He said, his time was not yet come. So, too, on the cross He commends the Blessed Virgin to St. John's care, not under the high title of Mother, but the lowly one of woman. "_Woman, behold thy Son_." [Footnote 201] [Footnote 201: St. John xix. 26.] Now, why was this? Did not our Lord love his Mother? Was He not disposed to be obedient to her as his mother? Certainly; but it was for our sakes He spoke thus. {459} In private, at Nazareth, we are told, he was "subject to her," but on these great public occasions, when crowds were gathered around Him to hear Him preach, when He hung on the Cross, and a world was looking on, He put out of view her maternal grandeur, in compassion to us, lest there should be too great a distance between her and us, and we should lose the force of her example. He wished us to understand that Mary, high as she was, was a woman, and in the same order of grace and providence with us. We might have said: "Oh, the Blessed Virgin obtains what she asks for on easy terms. She has but to ask and it is done. She enters heaven as the son of a nobleman comes into his father's estate, by the mere title of blood and lineage." But no: our Saviour says: "_To sit on my right hand is not mine to give you, but to them for whom it is prepared by my Father_." [Footnote 202] [Footnote 202: St. Matt. xx. 23.] It is not a matter of favor and arbitrary appointment; not even my Mother gains her glory in that way. She must comply with the terms on which my Father promises heaven to men, and therefore the Church applies to her words spoken of another Mary: "_Mary hath chosen the best part; therefore it shall not be taken away from her._" Oh, blessed truth! Mary is one of us. Her destiny, high as it is, is a human destiny. And she reached it in a human fashion. She built that splendid throne of hers in heaven with care and labor while she was on the earth. She laid the foundation of it in her childhood, when her feet trod the Temple aisles. She reared its pillars when with faith, purity, and obedience unequalled, she received the message of the archangel. And her daily life at Bethlehem, Egypt, and Nazareth, her holy, loving ways with Joseph and with Jesus, her perfect fulfilment of God's law, her interior fervent acts of prayer, covered it with gold and ivory. {460} Then, when the blind world was going on its way of folly; while one King Herod was deluging villages in blood, and another steeping his soul in the guilt of incest, and of the blood of the Son of God; while the multitude were doubting, and Scribes and Pharisees disputing about Christ, the lowly Jewish maiden, with no other secret but love and prayer, was preparing for herself that bright mansion in Heaven wherein she now dwells, rejoicing eternally with her Son. Oh, happy news! One, at least, of our race has perfectly fulfilled her destiny. Here we can gain some idea of what God created us for. Here is the destiny that awaits man when original sin does not mar it; when co-operation with grace and unswerving perseverance secure it. The Jews were proud of Judith. They said: "_Thou art the glory of Jerusalem; thou art the joy of Israel; thou art the honor of our people._" So we may say of Mary: "O Mary, thou art the pride of our race. In thee the design of God in our creation has been perfectly attained. In thee the redemption of Christ has had its perfect fruit. Mankind conceives new hopes from thy success." Christ, indeed, has entered into glory; but Christ was God. Mary is purely human, and Mary has succeeded. Why tarry we here in the bondage of Egypt? Mary has crossed the Red Sea, and has taken a timbrel in her hand and sings her thanksgiving unto God. True it is that she is fleet of foot, and we are all halt and weak; but even she needed the grace of God, and the same grace is offered to us, that we may run and not faint. Listen to her song of triumph. She does not set herself above us, but claims kindred with us, and bids us hope for the same grace which she has received. "_My soul doth magnify the Lord, for he hath exalted the humble, and hath filled the hungry with good things. And his mercy is from generation to generation to them that fear Him_." {461} Another proof that the destiny of the Blessed Virgin is substantially the same with ours, is the fact that the same expressions are used to describe her glory and ours. Sometimes those who are not Catholics, when they hear what high words we use of the Blessed Virgin, are scandalized; but we use almost no words of the Blessed Virgin that may not, in their measure, be applied to other saints. It is true that the Blessed Virgin has some gifts and graces in which she stands alone--as her character of Mother of God, and her Immaculate Conception--but, as I said before, these are dignities and ornaments conferred on her, and are not the source of her essential happiness in heaven. In other respects, her glory is shared by all the saints. Thus, Mary is called "Queen of Heaven;" but are not all the blessed called in Holy Scripture, "_kings and priests unto God?_" [Footnote 203] Is she said to sit at the "King's right hand?" and are not we too promised a place at his right hand, and to "_sit on thrones?_" [Footnote 204] Is she called the "Morning Star?" and does not St. Paul, speaking of all the saints, say, "_star differeth from star in glory?_" [Footnote 205] Is she called a "Mediatrix of Prayer" and is it not said of every just man, that his "_continual prayer availeth much?_" [Footnote 206] Is she called the "Spouse of God?" and does not the Almighty, addressing every faithful soul, say, "_My love, my dove, my undefiled?_" [Footnote 207] Is she called the "Daughter of the Most High?" and are not we too called the "_Sons of God?_" [Footnote 208] [Footnote 203: Apoc. i. 6.] [Footnote 204: Apoc. iii. 21.] [Footnote 205: I Cor. xv. 41.] [Footnote 206: St. James v. 16.] [Footnote 207: Can. v. 2.] [Footnote 208: I St. John iii. 2.] The glory of the Blessed Virgin, then, differs from that of the other saints in degree, but not in kind. She is not separated from them, but is one of them. She goes before them. She is the most perfect of them. But she is one of them. And for this reason, the glory of the Blessed Virgin gives us the best conception of the magnificence of our destiny. When a botanist wishes to describe a flower, he selects the most perfect specimen. {462} When an anatomist draws a model of the human frame, he makes it faultless. So we, to gain the truest idea of our destiny, must lift up our eyes to the Blessed Virgin on her heavenly throne, and say: "Oh! my soul, see for what thou art created." Think of this, my brethren, as often as you kneel before her image, or meditate on her greatness. You cannot be what she is, but you can be like her. She is a creature like you. She is a human being like you. She is a Christian like you. And her joy, her beauty, her glory, her wealth, her knowledge, her power--nay, even the mighty efficacy of her intercession--are only what, in their measure, God offers to you. "_Glory, honor, and peace to EVERY ONE that worketh good; for there is no respect of persons with God_." [Footnote 209] [Footnote 209: Rom. ii. 10.] If these things be so, what greatness it gives to human life. Perhaps, if you had lived in the times of the Blessed Virgin Mary, you would never have noticed her; or if you had known her by sight, what would she have seemed to you but a good little Jewish girl, lowly and retiring in her manners and appearance? or, later in life, a poor young woman thrust away, with her husband, from a crowded inn, or fleeing by night with an infant child or, still later, the mother of a condemned malefactor, watching his sufferings in the crowd. Herod did not know her, and the nobles of Jerusalem were ignorant of her. She was not one of the friends of the queen's dancing daughters. Even the rustics of the village of Bethlehem looked down on her. She carried no servants about with her, and had no palace to live in. But Faith tells us of angel visits, of union with God, of heavenly goodness, and an immortal crown. So, in like manner, how our life becomes grand and dignified when it is lighted up by faith! You know there are porcelain pictures, which in the hand are rough and unmeaning, but held up to the light reveal the most beautiful scenes and figures; so our common, ordinary life, rough and unmeaning as it often seems, when enlightened by faith becomes all divine. {463} There is a little girl who learns her lessons and obeys her parents, and tells the truth, and shuns every thing that is wicked; why, as that little girl kneels down to pray, I see a bright angel drawing near to her, and he smiles on her and says: "_Hail! Blessed art thou: the Lord is with thee_." That young man who, by a sincere conversion, has thrown off the slavery of sin, and regained once more the grace of God--"what is his heart but another cave of Bethlehem, in which Christ is born, and around which angels sing: "_Glory to God in the highest, on earth, peace to men of good will_." That Christian family, where daily prayers are offered, and instruction and good example are given, and mutual fidelity is observed between the members--what is it but the Holy House of Nazareth?--the Home of Jesus? Yes, good Christian, do not be cast down because you are poor, or because you suffer, or because your opportunities of doing good are limited; live the life of a Christian, and you are living Mary's life on earth. We have not, indeed, Mary's perfect sinlessness, but we have the graces of baptism, by which we may vanquish sin. We have not, as she had, the visible presence of our Lord, but we have Him invisibly in our hearts, and sacramentally in the Holy Communion. We are not "full of grace," as she was, but we have grace without limit promised to us in answer to prayer. Let us assert the privileges of our birth-right. We belong to the new creation. Angels claim kindred with us. God is our Father. Heaven is our home. We are the children of the saints--yes, of her who is the greatest of the saints. Let us follow her footsteps, that one day we may come to our Assumption, the glory of which surpassed even the power of St. John to utter. "_Dearly beloved, we are now the sons of God, and it hath not yet appeared what we shall be. We know that when He shall appear we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is_." [Footnote 210] [Footnote 210: St. John iii. 2.] {464} Every thing depends an our co-operating with grace. How did the Blessed Virgin arrive at such glory? By corresponding to every grace. See her at her Annunciation. The angel comes and tells her of the grace God has prepared for her. If she had not believed, if she had not assented, what would have come of it? Why, she would have lost for all eternity the glory attached to that grace. But she did not refuse. She was ready for the grace when it was offered. She said: "_Fiat_," "_Be it done to me according to thy word_." Oh, how much hung on that _Fiat!_ an eternal glory in heaven. So it is with us. There are moments in our lives big with the issues of our future. God's purposes concerning the soul have a certain order. He gives one grace; if we correspond to that He gives another; if we do not correspond, we lose those that depended on it; sometimes, even, we lose our salvation altogether. This is the key of your destiny--fidelity to grace. You have an inspiration from God: He speaks to your soul. Oh, listen to Him, and obey Him! To one He says: "Abandon, O sinner, your evil life, and turn to Me with all your heart." "_Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation!_" To another, who is already in His grace, He sends inspirations to a more perfect life, a life of higher prayer and more uninterrupted recollection. Another, by the sweet attractions of His grace, He draws away from home and kindred to serve Him as a Sister of Charity by the bed of suffering; or as a nun, to live with Him in stillness and contemplation; or as a priest, to win souls for heaven. Oh, speak the word that Mary spoke: "_Be it done to me according to thy word_." Are you in sin? Convert without delay. Are you leading a tepid, imperfect life? Gird your loins to watchfulness and prayer. {465} Do you feel in yourselves a vocation to a religious or sacerdotal life? Rise up and obey without delay. Tomorrow may be too late. The grace may be forfeited forever. Why stand we all the day idle? Heaven is filling up. Each generation sends a new company to the heavenly host. Time is going. The great business of life remains unaccomplished. By our baptism we have been made children of God and heirs of heaven. Labor we, therefore, to enter into that rest. Mary, dear Mother, lift up thy voice for us in heaven, that we, following thy footsteps, may one day share thy glory, and with thee praise forever God the Father. Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen. ----------------------------------- Sermon XXVI. Care For The Dead. (Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost.) "And when He came nigh to the gate of the city, behold a dead man was carried out." --St. Luke VII. 12. It is not at the gate of Naim only that such a procession might be met. From every city "dead men are carried out to the grave"--nay, from every house. Death knocks alike at the palace and the cabin. It is only a question of time with him. Sooner or later he comes to all. Yes, my brethren, a day will come to each home in this parish when a piece of black crape at the door will tell the world that death has been there. Within there will be stillness and sadness, and in some darkened chamber, wrapt in a winding sheet, will lie the cold and lifeless form of some beloved member of your family--a father or mother; a wife or husband; a brother or sister; a son or daughter. After a little while even that will be taken away from you. {466} The time of the funeral will come. The mourners will go about the streets, and the dead will be buried out of your sight. I do not speak of this to make you sad. On the contrary, what I am going to say will, I know, be a source, the only real source, of comfort to you in the loss of your friends. I wish to remind you of your duties to the dead. Christianity does not permit us to bid farewell forever to our departed friends. Death, it tells us, does not sever the bond of duty and love between us and them. We still have duties toward them, and in the performance of those duties, while we are doing good to the dead, we are procuring for ourselves the best solace. What are those duties? First: To give back the dead resignedly to God. It is not wrong to weep for the dead. It is not wrong, for we cannot help it. It is as impossible not to feel pain at such a separation as it would be not to suffer when the surgeon's knife is cutting off an arm or a leg; and, what nature demands, God does not forbid. Therefore the Holy Scripture says: "_My son, shed tears over the dead; and begin to lament as if thou hadst suffered some great harm_." [Footnote 211] [Footnote 211: Eccles. xxxviii. 16.] Do you think that poor widow of whom the Gospel speaks to-day could help weeping? She had known sorrow before, but then she had one support, a dear and only son. He was a good lad. Every body knew and loved him. But now he too is gone. It is strange that he should go and she be left behind, but so it is: there lies his body on the bier, and she is following him to the grave. See her as she goes along in her coarse black dress, bent with age and sorrow. Can you blame her for weeping, as she looks, for the last time, on that dear form? At least, Jesus did not blame her. He looked at her, and He sorrowed with her. He was moved with compassion. {467} It is not wrong, then, to weep for the dead, but we must moderate our grief, banish every rebellious thought from our heart, and mingle resignation with our sorrow. The Office which the Church sings over the dead is made up in great part of joyful psalms and anthems. After this pattern ought to be the sorrow of a Christian family, a sorrow that is not violent and noisy, a sorrow that does not pass the bounds of decency, a sorrow, I may say, mingled with joy. How different it is in some families! You come near a house and you hear shrieks the most appalling. You go in and find a woman abandoning herself to the most noisy and violent grief. Her language is little short of blasphemy. She refuses any comfort. She is weeping over a dead husband. Perhaps in life she loved him none too well. Perhaps she made his life bitter enough to him, and often prayed that some harm might happen to him, and that she might see him dead. And now she does see him dead. She will never curse him again, and he will never anger her again. He is dead; and now she breaks out into the most frantic grief, and alarms the neighborhood. She cries; she calls upon God; she throws herself on the corpse. At the funeral her conduct is still more wild and disordered. Now, what is all this? I will not say it is hypocritical, but I say it is brutish. It is not to act as a reasonable being, much less as a Christian. This is the way with some women. The only time they ever show any love to their husbands is when they are dead. Let them be: such grief will not last long. Wait awhile; before her husband's body has well got cold in the ground she will be looking around for another match. Do not imitate such unchristian conduct. When Death enters your house, do not forget that you are a Christian. Do not _indulge_ your grief. Call to your aid the principles of your faith. You are sad and lonely. Well, is it not better to feel that this life is a state of exile? You have lost your protector. And has not God promised to protect the orphan? You have lost such a _good_ friend, such a bright example. {468} Well, ought you not, then, to rejoice at his safe departure? The early Christians used to carry flowers to the grave, and sing hymns of joy because the toils of a Christian warrior were ended, and he had entered into rest. Hear what the Church sings: "_Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord_." Will you weep because one you love is taken away from sin, from temptation, from the trouble to come? Will you grieve because he has secured for himself the Blissful and Eternal Vision of God? But you have no confidence that he _was_ good, that he did die in the grace of God. Suppose you are uncertain on that point, is there any thing better than to go with your doubts and fears before the Holy God, and while you offer to Him your trembling prayers for the departed, to adore His Providence and say: "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the Name of the Lord." [Footnote 212] [Footnote 212: Job i. 27.] Dry up your tears, then, O bereaved Christian. "Make mourning for the dead for a day or two," [Footnote 213] says the Holy Scripture. That is, do not abandon yourself to grief. Do not think, because your friend is gone, that God is gone, and Christ is gone, and duty gone. Do not call on others more than is necessary. Resume your ordinary duties as soon as possible--and in these duties you will find the relief which God Himself has provided for our sadness, and His Grace will accompany you in the performance of them. [Footnote 213: Ecc. xxxviii. 18.] Another duty to the dead is to perform scrupulously, as far as possible, their last directions. When the patriarch Jacob was dying, he called his son Joseph to his side, and said to him: "_Thou shalt show me this kindness and truth, not to bury me in Egypt, but I will sleep with my fathers, and thou shalt take me away out of this land, and bury me in the burying-place of my ancestors_." [Footnote 214] [Footnote 214: Gen. xlvii. 30.] {469} It was not of itself a very important request; it was, moreover, an inconvenient one. Yet see how promptly and carefully it was complied with. As soon as the days of mourning for Jacob were ended, Joseph went to Pharao and said: "_My father made me swear to him, saying, Thou shalt bury me in my sepulchre which I have digged for myself in the land of Canaan. So I will go and bury my father and return. And Pharao said to him, Go up and bury thy father. And they buried him in the land of Canaan, in the double cave which Abraham bought for a burying-place_." [Footnote 215] [Footnote 215: Gen. 1, 4, 5, 13.] Would that the same piety were always seen among us! A mother dies: the last wishes that she expresses to her children are that they should be true to their holy faith and earnest in seeking the salvation of their souls, and she sends a message to an absent son, which will not reach him in his distant home till long after she is gone, begging him to be faithful and regular in his duties as a Christian. A father dies, and tells his son of a debt, strictly due in justice, but of which there is no record, and where he will find the money to pay it. A poor girl dies, and confides to some one, whom she thinks her friend, the little earnings of her hard labor, asking that it may be sent to her old mother in Ireland. Are these wishes executed? Are these children faithful Catholics? Is that boy, the object of a mother's dying tears and prayers, regular at the sacraments? Has that debt been paid? Did the sad news of the daughter's death go out to the poor mother in the old country, softened with the evidence of that daughter's piety and love? or was the money retained and squandered? What! are you not afraid to add to the sin of irreligion and injustice the crime of breaking faith with the dead? Hear what God says in the Holy Scripture: "_The voice of thy brother's blood crieth to Me from the earth_." [Footnote 216] [Footnote 216: Gen. iv. 10.] {470} The dead have got a voice, then--a voice that cries to God, that cries for vengeance against those who injure them. Pay, then, thy debts to the dead. Redeem the promise thou hast made to the dying. Fulfil thy duties as an executor or administrator with fidelity and justice. Be exact. It is a dead man thou art dealing with. Do not say, he is dead and cannot speak. Hear what the Law of God saith: "_Thou shalt not speak evil of the deaf, nor put a stumbling block before the blind: but thou shalt fear the Lord thy God, because I am the Lord_." [Footnote 217] Do you understand? God hears for those who cannot hear, He speaks for those who cannot speak; and if thou makest the dead thy enemy, thou hast the Living and Eternal God for a Foe. [Footnote 217: Levit. xix. 14.] Another part of our duty to the dead is to treat their bodies with respect, and to give them decent burial. We do this for two reasons: for what they have been, and what they are to be. Their bodies have been the casket which held their souls, and we love their bodies for what their souls have been to God and to us. We love the eye that looked upon us with affection, the mouth that spoke to us words of truth and kindness, we love the ear that listened to our sorrows, and the hand that soothed and blessed us. We love that body which was the soul's instrument here in her works of piety and Christian charity. And we love that body for what it shall be. We see it as it will be when it springs from the grave on the morning of the Resurrection, sparkling with light, beautiful and immortal. And this is why we follow the dead to the grave. We go with them as we go part of the way home with a cherished guest. We go with them in token that the love that united us is not severed by death, but that we are still joined to them in hope and charity. Oh yes, it is right. Let the body be laid out decently; the limbs composed; the eyes closed for their long sleep. And when the time of burial comes, let all the ceremonies of the Holy Church lend their aid. {471} Walk slow; let the priest in surplice and stole go before; light the candles and hold the cross aloft; sing the sweet and solemn chant; carry the body to the church and lay it before the Altar of God; bring incense and holy water, and let there be High Mass for the repose of the soul. Fitting ceremonies! "Beautiful and touching rites! chosen with a heavenly still to comfort the mourner and to honor the dead. But alas! alas! how do we see this duty to the dead sometimes fulfilled! A Catholic is dead. It is true there are candles and holy water, but where are the pious prayers? The neighbors are gathered together, but it is not to pray. The glasses and the pipes speak of a different kind of meeting. Yes, they have come there, there to that chamber, the Court of Death and the Threshold of Eternity, to hold a drunken wake. The night wears on with stories, sometimes even obscene and filthy, and as liquor does its work, curses and blasphemies mingle with the noisy, senseless cries and yells of drunken men. Are these orgies meant to insult the dead? Do these revellers wish to make us believe that their departed friend was, body and soul, the child of Hell as much as they? So the wake is kept, and now for the funeral. The man died early in the week, but of course he must be buried on Sunday. Sunday is the worst day of the week for a funeral, because it is the day appointed for the public worship of God, and it is wrong to draw men away from the church on that day without necessity, yet a funeral must by all means be on a Sunday. And why? Because a greater crowd can be got together on that day, and the object is to have a crowd, and to make people say, such a one had a _decent funeral_. The family are poor, nevertheless a large number of carriages are hired, and filled with a set of people who regard the whole thing as a picnic or excursion. Some of them have already "taken a drop," and so little sense of religion have they left, that sometimes at the grave itself, sometimes in returning from it, they raise brawls and riots that bring disgrace and contempt at once on the man they have buried and the faith they profess. {472} Do you call this a decent funeral?" I say it is a sin. A sin of pride and ostentation. A sin of scandal and excess. A sin of robbery and cruelty--of robbery and cruelty toward the poor children from whose hungry mouths and naked backs are taken the extravagant expenses of this ambitious display. How much better to have a small funeral! a funeral remarkable for nothing but its modesty and simplicity, to which only the few are called who knew the dead and loved him, who follow him to his long home with serious thoughts, like thinking men and Christians, remembering that before long they must go with him into the grave and lie down beside him, and who return home to remember his soul before God as often as they kneel down to pray. And this brings me, in the last place, to speak of the duty of praying for the dead. It is a most consoling privilege of our holy faith. Death indeed fixes our eternal condition irrevocably. "_If the tree fall to the south or to the north, in what place soever it shall fall, there shall it be_." [Footnote 218] [Footnote 218: Eccles. xi. 3.] But the good do not always enter heaven immediately. If the sharp process by which God purifies His children on earth has not wrought its full effect, it must be carried on for a while longer in that hidden receptacle in which faithful souls await their summons to the presence of God. And during this period our prayers in their behalf are of great avail. No part of our religion has more undeniable proofs of its antiquity. As far back as the fourth century of the Christian era, St. Cyril testifies that it was the custom "to pray for those who had departed this life, believing it to be a great assistance to those souls for whom prayers are offered while the Holy and Tremendous Sacrifice is going on." [Footnote 219] [Footnote 219: St. Cyril, Cat., lect. v., n. 9.] {473} The tombstones of the early Christians attest the same practice, and St. Augustine, speaking not as a doctor, but recording a chapter of his own history, lets us into the innermost feelings of the Church of his day on this subject. In his Confessions he tells us that his mother St. Monica, shortly before her death, looked at him and said: "Lay this body anywhere, be not concerned about that, only I beg of you, that wheresoever you be, you make remembrance of me at the Lord's Altar." And the saint goes on to tell how he fulfilled this request, how after her death the "Sacrifice of our Ransom" was offered for her, and how fervently he continued to pray for her. But his own words are best: "Though my mother lived in such a manner that Thy Name is much praised in her faith and manners, yet * * * I entreat Thee, O God of my heart, for her sins. Hear me, I beseech Thee, through that cure of our wounds that hung upon the Tree, and that sitting now at Thy Right Hand maketh intercession for us. I know that she did mercifully, and from her heart forgave to her debtors their trespasses; do Thou likewise forgive to her her debts, if she hath also contracted any in those many years she lived after the saving water. Forgive them, O Lord, forgive them. * * * Let no one separate her from Thy protection. Let not the lion and the dragon either by force or fraud interpose himself. Let her rest in peace, together with her husband; and do Thou inspire Thy servants that as many as shall read this may remember at Thy Altar Thy handmaid Monica, with Patricius her husband." [Footnote 220] [Footnote 220: St. Augustine's, Confessions, book ix., c. 13.] Are we as faithful to pray for our departed friends, and to get prayers said for them? They wait the time of their deliverance with painful longing. They cannot hasten it themselves. They cannot merit. Their hands are tied. They are at our mercy. The Church indeed prays for these in her litanies, her offices, and her Masses, but how little do we, their friends and relations, pray for them. {474} The patriarch Joseph, when he foretold to Pharao's butler, his fellow prisoner, his speedy restoration to honor, said to him: "_Only remember me when it shall be well with thee, and do me this kindness to put Pharao in mind to take me out of this prison_." [Footnote 221] [Footnote 221: Gen. xl. 14.] But the butler, when things prospered with him, forgot his friend. So we forget our friends in the prison of Purgatory. They linger looking for help from us, and it comes not. Oh, pray for the dead. Death does not sever them from hope, from prayer, or from the power of Christ. Did not Martha say to our Lord in reference to her brother Lazarus, who was already dead: "_I know that even NOW whatsoever thou wilt ask of God (in his behalf) He will give it thee!_" [Footnote 222] [Footnote 222: St. John xi. 22.] Yes, Christ's mercy and Christ's Bounty reach even to the regions of the shadow of death. Christ has in His hands gifts even for the dead--gifts of Consolation, of Refreshment, of Quiet, and of Rest. Ask those gifts for those you love. With the widow of Naim carry your dead to the Saviour, let your tears and prayers in their behalf meet His Compassionate Ear and Eye, and He will speak to the dead: "Young man, I say to thee Arise." And the dead shall hear His voice, and shall rise up, not yet to the Resurrection of the Body, not yet to be "delivered to his Master," but to the company of the Angels, to the spirits of the Just, to the home of God, where they shall be "_before the Throne of God, and serve Him day and night in His Temple, and He that sitteth on the Throne shall dwell over them. And they shall not hunger nor thirst any more; neither shall the sun fall on them, nor any heat_." [Footnote 223] [Footnote 223: Apoc. vii. 15, 16.] {475} I have endeavored to-day, my brethren, to speak for the dead. They cannot speak for themselves, but they live, and feel, and think. And sure I am that, if they could speak, their words would not be in substance very different from what I have spoken. They would say: "I want no costly monument. I want no splendid funeral. Still less do I wish that God should be offended on my account. I ask a remembrance mingled with affection and resignation, the rites of the Holy Church, a quiet grave, and now and then a fervent, earnest prayer. And I will not forget you in my prison of hope. I will pray for you, and oh! when the morning comes, and my happy soul is called to Heaven, my first intercession at the throne of God shall be for you, whom I loved so well in life, and who hast not left off thy kindness to the dead. ------------------------------- Sermon XXVII. Success The Reward Of Merit. (Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost.) "What things a man shall sow, them also shall he reap." --Gal. VI. 8. To judge by the complaints which we hear continually around us, we might conclude that the commonest thing in the world is for men to fail in their undertakings. Now, I admit that it is a very common thing indeed for men to fail in obtaining what they _desire_. There are many men who have some darling object of ambition which they cannot reach. But I do not think it is a very frequent thing for men to fail in attaining an end which they steadily aim at, and which they take the proper means to attain. I believe the rule is the other way. I believe success is the ordinary result of well-directed endeavor. I know indeed that the Holy Scriptures tell us that "_the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the learned, nor favor to the skilful: but time and chance is all_." [Footnote 224] [Footnote 224: Eccles. ix. 11.] {476} But surely all that this means is that the providence of God, for its own purposes, _sometimes_ interferes to thwart the best-concerted measures, and to crown feeble attempts with unexpected success. The race is not always to the swift, but ordinarily it is. The battle is not always to the strong, but when it is not, it is an exception to the rule. The rule is, that success commonly attends the employment of proper and judicious means. The experience of life proves that this is true. Let us look around and see if it is not so. We will look first at the business world. Here at first sight a succession of the most surprising changes meets our eye. Men that were rich a few years ago are now poor. Men that then were poor are now rich. The servant and his master have changed places. If you return to the city after a few years' absence you will find the same handsome houses lining our avenues, but the occupants of many of them will be changed. The same gay carriages roll along the street, but there is always a new set of people riding in them, and they that used to ride now go afoot. What wonder is it that men have imagined Fortune to be blindfold[ed], and the ups and downs of life the chance revolutions of her wheel? But when we look closer, we see this is not the case. For the most part each fall and each success has had an adequate history. There has been a rigid bond of cause and effect. It is only a metaphor when we say that riches have wings. Gold and silver, and real estate, and most kinds of personal property, are solid and substantial, and do not melt away in a night. So, on the other hand, fortunes are not made by accident. The rich man becomes rich by aiming at it and striving for it. He does not need any extraordinary genius perhaps, but he bends his talents, such as they are, to the task. He rises early, he is constantly at his place of business, he keeps himself informed of all its details, he thinks about it. When a favorable opening comes, he takes advantage of it. {477} When a reverse comes, he is not discouraged by it. Other men would be discouraged, but he is not. Perhaps he is in middle life, perhaps he has a growing family, but he looks out for a fresh field of enterprise, and begins anew to battle with the world, and he becomes rich again. His success is owing in part, if you will, to favorable circumstances, but largely to his own energy and industry. These were the conditions, without which no amount of mere external advantages would have insured success. Again, if we look to the world of Literature and Art, we find the same thing. Disappointed authors and artists often talk as if they were the victims of the world's stupidity or malice; as if men were unable or unwilling to appreciate them. Now, I know it is said that such things have been. There have been men of rare promise, but of a sensitive nature, who have been crushed by coldness and neglect, or by the hard and unfair criticism with which their first attempts were met. But this is far from being a common thing. The world likes to be amused and pleased. It is really interested in having something to praise. This being so, how is it possible for a man of real merit to remain long unrecognized? Who can imagine that the great masterpieces of painting, or the great poems that have come down to us from the past, _could_ have failed to excite the admiration of men? In fact, human judgment, when you take its suffrages over wide tracts and through the lapse of ages, is all but infallible. In a particular place it may be warped by passion; in a particular time it may conform to an artificial standard; but give it time and room, and it is sure with unerring accuracy to detect the beautiful and true. It is as far as possible, then, from being the case that celebrated authors or celebrated artists have become great by accident. There may have been favorable circumstances. There were undoubtedly great gifts of nature; but there was also deep study and painful, persevering toil. {478} I have been told that the manuscripts of a distinguished English poet show so many erasures that hardly a line remains unaltered. The great cathedrals of Europe were the fruit of life-long labor. And these are but instances of a general rule. When we go into the workshops in which some of the beautiful articles of merchandise are manufactured, we see a great fire and hear the clank of machinery, and men are hurrying to and fro, stained with dust and sweat. Now, something like this has been going on to give birth to these beautiful creations in Letters and Arts which have delighted the world. There has been a great fire in the furnace of the brain, and each faculty of the mind has toiled to do its part, and there have been many blows with the pen, the pencil, or the chisel, until the beautiful conception is complete. Such men were successful because they deserved it. The approbation of the world did not create their success, it only recognized it. I will take one more example of the rule I am illustrating--personal character, reputation. I believe, as a general rule, it is pretty nearly what we deserve. We reap what we sow. People think of us pretty much as we really are. I am not unmindful of the occasional success of hypocrites, nor of the instances, happily not very frequent, of innocent persons overwhelmed by a load of unjust accusation and calumny. Again, I know that when people are angry with us they sometimes say spiteful things which they do not mean, and when they wish to flatter us they say things more complimentary, but just as false. But notwithstanding all this, I affirm that the judgments which people who know us form of us are very nearly correct. Indeed it must be so, for we cannot disguise ourselves altogether, or for a long time. We cannot always wear a mask. An ignorant, ill-bred man may go to a tailor's and dress himself out in fashionable clothes, but the first word he speaks, and the first movement he makes will betray his want of education. {479} So, while we are trying to pass ourselves off for something else than what we are, to a keen observer our habitual thoughts and character will pierce through and discover our true selves. Even what our enemies say about us, when they say what they think, is very likely to be true. Men have no need to invent bad things about us. We have all got faults enough. They have only to seize these, exaggerate them a little, caricature them, separate them from what is good in us, and they will make a picture bad enough, but not too bad to be recognized as ours. Their description of us is like a photographic likeness. It takes away the bloom from the cheek, and the brightness from the eye, and the rich tints from the hair. It notes down each imperfection, each frown and wrinkle and crookedness of feature, and there it is, a hard, severe, but not an untrue likeness. In fact, my brethren, one of the last things I would advise any man to attempt would be to try to seem something he is not. He is almost sure to be unsuccessful. There is a law in the world too strong for him--the law of justice and truth, the law that binds together actions and their consequences, the law that attaches honor to what is good and right, and contempt to what is base and false. Thus we see on every side illustrations of the rule that our success is in proportion to our merit. We sow what we reap. Much more is this true in regard to religion. You have observed that hitherto I have been obliged to make some qualifications, to make some exceptions in each of the instances I have brought forward. God may prevent our becoming rich, however legitimately we may labor for it, because He sees that riches would not be good for us. Or He may allow our talents to remain unappreciated, and our name to be covered with obloquy, in order to drive us to seek His Eternal Praise. But in religion our labors are sure to meet with success. There is absolutely no exception. Our success will be infallibly in proportion to our endeavors, neither more or less. {480} You know, my brethren, that a doctrine may be familiar to us, but may not always make the same impression on us. We may hear it many times and assent to it, but on some special occasion, it may enter our mind with such force, take such a lively hold of our imagination and heart that it seems new to us. This is what we call _coming home to us_. Now, I remember an occasion when the doctrine I have just stated thus came home to me. It was on hearing the words of St. Alphonsus: "With that degree of love to God that we possess when we leave this world, and no more, will we pass our eternity." Any thing more startling and awakening I do not remember ever to have heard. Not the thought of the pains of hell, or the horrors of sin, or the bliss of paradise, ever seemed to me so loud a call for action. All of heaven that we shall ever see, we acquire here. Perhaps you too, my brethren, have not realized this sufficiently. The truth is, I think many men act in regard to religion as children and weak-minded persons do in regard to the things of this world--they build "castles in the air." This is a very favorite occupation with some people. They spend hours and even days in it. It is a cheap amusement, and they who follow it do not usually stint themselves in the warmth and color of their pictures. The only difficulty is, to fix a limit to their imaginary splendors. They imagine themselves very rich, worth, say fifty thousand, or a hundred thousand, or five hundred thousand dollars, with beautiful houses and furniture, and all the elegancies of life. Or they imagine themselves very famous, with a reputation as wide as the world, and admiring crowds shouting their praises wherever they go. Now something like this, equally silly and unsubstantial, passes in the minds of many Christians in regard to their hereafter. They imagine that, somehow, one of these days, they will find themselves caught up to the third heaven, borne by angels to the throne of God, crowned with a jewelled crown, seated on a golden throne, with palms in their hands, to sing forever the song of the redeemed. {481} They may be now in mortal sin, they may be in the habit of mortal sin; they may be the slaves of passion, drunkards, impure, dishonest; they may be unwilling to renounce the dangerous occasions of sin; or they may not be so bad as this: they may belong to that class who have their periodic spells of sin and devotion, and are saints or sinners according to the time of the year you take them; or they may belong to a still milder type of ungodliness, those who are negligent and cold-hearted, with a host of venial sins about them, and at intervals, now and then, a mortal sin--no matter: somehow or other, by some kind of a contrivance, all--the relapsed sinner and the habitual sinner, the drunkard, the impure, the dishonest and the profane, the worldly and tepid, the prayerless and presumptuous--all are going to heaven. O miserable delusion! Does the Bible teach us this? When it speaks of a "way" to heaven, does it not mean that all must walk in that way to reach there? When it tells us that "the Judge standeth at the door," does it not mean, to judge us by our actions! Which of the saints was ever wafted to heaven in this passive way? Ah! the apostle tells us, "they were valiant in fight," they fought with the wild beasts of their passions, and put to flight the armies of hell. No: it is an enemy that hath sown among you this Calvinistic poison--yes, this worse than Calvinistic poison, for the Calvinists did but assert that a few elect were saved by a foregone decree, while this practically extends it to every one. Do not believe it. "_What a man soweth that shall he reap_." "_He that soweth to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption, and, he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting_." [Footnote 225] [Footnote 225: Gal. vi. 8.] {482} Our days are like a weaver's shuttle, and, as they quickly come and go, they weave the web of our destiny. Each step we take is a step in one of the two paths that fill up the whole field of human probation. Ask the Psalmist who of us shall see heaven, and he will answer you, "_Lord, who shall dwell in Thy tabernacle, or who shall rest on Thy holy hill? he that has clean hands and a pure heart_." [Footnote 226] [Footnote 226: Ps. xiv. 1; xxiii. 4.] Ask the Gospel, Who is that servant whom his Lord at His coming will approve? and it answers: "_Even he whose loins are girt about, and whose lights are burning, as a man that waits for his Lord_." [Footnote 227] [Footnote 227: St. Luke xii. 35, 36.] Would you know who, at the end of the world, shall reap a rich harvest? "_They that sow in tears_"--in the holy tears of compunction, of the love of God, and of the desire of heaven-- "_shall reap in joy. And he that now goeth on his way weeping and bearing good seed, shall come again with joy, and bring his sheaves with him_." [Footnote 228] [Footnote 228: Ps. cxxv. 5, 6, 7.] Let us pause a moment before we conclude to try ourselves by this doctrine. "All the rivers run into the sea;" so all our lives are carrying us on to eternity. Should our lives be cut off at this moment, of what kind of texture would they be found? "_In those days_," says the prophet, "_Israel shall come, they shall make haste and seek the Lord their God. They shall ask the way to Sion, their faces thitherward_." [Footnote 229] [Footnote 229: Jer. i. 4, 5.] Are our faces, my brethren, turned toward the heavenly city? Are we hastening thither, acknowledging ourselves strangers and pilgrims on the earth? These careless confessions, these heartless prayers, these darling sins, these aimless lives, this tepidity, this indifference and procrastination in spiritual things, what do they indicate? We look at the sky to judge of the weather. We read the newspapers to find out the condition of the country. We watch our symptoms to ascertain the state of our health. Ah! there are indications far more important, to which we ought to take heed. {483} Indications of salvation or reprobation, symptoms of spiritual health or decay, earnests of heaven or hell, marks of Christ or Satan. You remember the story of the old monk who was observed to weep as he sat watching the people going into church, and, being asked the reason, said he saw a man enter, followed by a black demon, who seemed to claim him as his own. So, if we could look into the spiritual world, we should see some men attended by angels who have come to "minister to them as heirs of salvation," while others are surrounded by evil spirits, "come to torment them before their time." Yes, eternity does not wait for the last day. It presses upon us now and here. Each day is a Judgment Day. Each evening, as it falls, finds us gathered at Christ's right hand, driven to His left, or wavering between the two. Why do we not take our place at once, where we shall wish to be found at our Saviour's coming? It is not very long since death took from among us a convert to our holy faith, [Footnote 230] whose life had been rich in good works, who had been a mother to the orphan, and a sister to the outcast and abandoned; and a priest, who visited her on her last illness, told me that he had said to her: "If God were now to raise you up and restore you to health, I would not know how to give you any other advice, than to resume your good works at that point where sickness compelled you to leave them off." Beautiful testimony to a holy life! Cut the thread wherever you will, it is all gold. Stop the Christian where you will, he is on his way to heaven. Be such a life ours. I have said each day is a Judgment Day: let each day merit the approval of Christ. Let our life be a constant preparation for Eternity, remembering that the only heaven the Christian religion offers us, is a heaven that is won by our labors here. [Footnote 230: Mrs. Geo. Ripley.] ------------------------------- {484} Sermon XXVIII. The Mass The Highest Worship. (Twenty-first Sunday After Pentecost.) "What shall I offer to the Lord that is worthy? Wherewith shall I kneel before the High God?" --Mich. VI.6. Such is the question which mankind have been asking from the creation of the world. God is so high, so great, so good, so beautiful. He made us. He created us by His Word, and we hang upon His Breath. How shall we worship Him? How shall we express the thoughts of Him that fill our souls? Alas! the words of the lips, the postures of the body, are all inadequate. What shall we do? Shall we, like Cain, gather the fairest fruits and flowers, and bring the basket before the Lord? Or, like Abel, shall we take the firstlings of our flocks, and slay them in His honor? Shall we dress an altar, and pile upon it the smoking victims? Shall we make our children pass through the fire in His Name? Or, like the Indian devotee, shall we throw ourselves under the wheels of the car that carries the image of the Divinity? Such have been the ways in which men have tried to express their devotion to God, but all have been either insufficient or vain. Man's thoughts about God have found no fitting expression. A fire has burned in his heart which no words can utter. Now here, as in so many other ways, Christianity comes to our aid, and places within our reach a perfect and all-sufficient mode of expressing our devotion, a perfect worship. Do you ask me to what I allude? I answer, to the Sacrifice of the Mass. {485} Let me remind you what the Sacrifice of the Mass is. We Catholics believe that in the Mass Jesus Christ offers His real Body and Blood, under the species of bread and wine, to His Eternal Father, in remembrance of His Death on the Cross. Our Lord's Death on the Cross was in itself complete, and all-sufficient for the purpose for which it was undergone, and need not, indeed could not, be repeated; but His Priestly Office was not exhausted by that offering. In the language of Scripture: "_He ever liveth to make intercession for us_." [Footnote 231] And, "_He is a Priest forever_." [Footnote 232] [Footnote 231: Heb. vii. 25.] [Footnote 232: Ps. cix. 4.] In what, then, does our Lord's Priesthood since His Crucifixion consist? In heaven, it consists in presenting Himself to His Father directly and immediately, to plead the merits of His Death and Passion in our behalf; but on earth it consists in representing that Death and Passion in the mystical action which we call the Eucharistic Sacrifice or the Mass; thus fulfilling the words of the prophet in reference to our Lord: "_Thou art a Priest forever, after the order of Melchisedec_." [Footnote 233] [Footnote 233: Ibid.] The offering, then, which takes place in the Mass is the very same that was made on Calvary, only it is made in a different manner. On the Cross, that offering was made in a direct and absolute manner, it was a bloody Sacrifice; in the Mass, it is made in a mystical and commemorative way, without blood, without suffering, without death. Therefore, in order to understand what takes place in the Mass, we must go back to the Cross. What was it that took place on the Cross? You answer, perhaps, Christ shed His Blood there for the remission of sins. True: the Blood of Christ was the material cause of our Redemption, but that which gave the Blood of Christ its value, that, indeed, which made it a Sacrifice, was the interior dispositions of the Soul of Christ. The Blood of Christ, taken as a mere material thing, could never have effected our reconciliation. What does the Scripture say? "_Sacrifice and oblation Thou didst not desire. Burnt-offerings and sin-offerings Thou didst not require. Then I said: Lo, I come to do Thy will O God!_" [Footnote 234] [Footnote 234: Ps. xxxix. 7, 8.] {486} It was by the _obedience_ of Christ, an obedience practised through His whole life, but of which His Death and Passion were the fullest expression, that Christ, as our elder brother, repaired our disobedience. While our Lord was hanging on the Cross, He exercised every Divine virtue which the soul of man can exercise. He loved. He prayed. He praised. He gave thanks. He supplicated. He made acts of adoration and resignation. In one word, He performed the most perfect act of _worship_. Well, it is just the same in the Mass. It would be the greatest mistake to think of the Body and Blood of Christ in the Mass as a sort of dead offering. It is living, and offered by the living Christ. Christ is the Priest of the Mass as well as the victim. It is Christ who celebrates the Mass, and He celebrates it with a warm and living Heart, the same Heart with which He worshipped the Father on Mount Calvary. It is this that makes the Mass what it is. If it were not for this, the Mass would be a carnal sacrifice, infinitely superior, indeed, to those of the Old Law, but of the same order. It is this which makes the Sacrifice of the Mass a reasonable service, a Spiritual Sacrifice. And now you are prepared to understand my assertion that the Mass supplies the want of the human soul for an adequate mode of approaching God. As a creature before its Creator, you are oppressed with your own inability to worship Him worthily. Do you want a better worship than that which His Eternal Son offers? In the Mass, the Son of God in His Human Nature worships the Father for us. He prays for us; asks pardon for us; gives thanks for us; adores for us. As He is perfect man, He expresses every human feeling; as He is perfect God, His utterances have a complete perfection, an infinite acceptableness. Thus, when we offer Mass, we worship the Father with Christ's worship. It seems to me that the Catholic can have a certain kind of pride in this. {487} He may say, "I know I am weak and as nothing before God, yet I possess a treasure that is worthy to offer Him, I have a prayer to present to Him all-perfect and all-powerful, the prayer of His Only-Begotten Son in whom He is well pleased." Nor is this all. Christ worships the Father for us in the Mass, not to excuse us from worshipping, but to help us to worship. You remember how, the night before our Saviour died, He took with Him Peter and James and John, and going into the garden of Gethsemane, He said to them, "Tarry ye here, while I go and pray yonder." And how, being removed from them about a stone's cast, He began to pray very earnestly, so that He was in an agony, and the drops of blood fell from His body to the ground; and how He went to them from time to time to urge them to watch and pray along with Him. The weight of all human sorrows was then upon His soul. He was presenting the necessities of the whole human race to His Father, but He would have the apostles, weary as they were, borne down by suffering and fatigue, to join their feeble prayers with His. So, in the Holy Mass, He is withdrawn from us a little distance, making intercessions for us with groanings which cannot be uttered, and He would have us kneel about the temple aisles, adding our poor prayers to His. Our prayers, by being united to His, obtain not only a higher acceptance, but a higher significance. Our obscure aspirations He interprets. What we know not how to ask for, or even to think of, He supplies. What we ask for in broken accents, He puts into glowing words. What we ask for in error and ignorance, He deciphers in wisdom and love. And thus our prayers, as they pass through His Heart, become transfigured and divine. Oh, what a gift is the Holy Mass! How full an utterance has Humanity found therein for all its woes, its aspirations, its hopes, its affections! How completely is the distance bridged over that separated the creature and the Creator! {488} It was to the Mass that our Lord alluded in His conversation with the woman of Samaria. You remember the incident. The Samaritans were a schismatical sect. They had separated from the Jews, had built a temple on Mount Gerazin, in opposition to the temple of the Jews at Jerusalem, and there they offered sacrifices. Now, this Samaritan woman, when our Lord had entered into conversation with her, put to Him the question which was then in controversy. Which was the right temple? Which was the acceptable sacrifice? Which was the place where men ought to worship--Mount Gerazin; or Mount Sion? And how does our Lord answer her? "_Woman, believe Me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain nor yet in Jerusalem adore the Father. The hour cometh and now is, when the true worshipper shall worship the Father in Spirit and in Truth_." [Footnote 235] [Footnote 235: St. John iv. 22, 23.] The time is coming when a new Sacrifice, a new worship, shall be established, a worship of Spirit and Truth, a worship that shall put to rest the controversy between Samaria and Jerusalem, for it shall be offered in every place. What is that sacrifice? What is that worship? The prophet had foretold it long before: "_From the rising of the sun unto the going down thereof, My Name is great among the Gentiles, and IN EVERY PLACE THERE IS SACRIFICE, and there is offered to My Name A CLEAN OBLATION_." [Footnote 236] [Footnote 236: Mal. ii. 11.] And the whole tradition of the Christian Church, from the very first, tells us that this _clean oblation_ is no other than the Eucharistic Sacrifice, a worship of "Truth," if the presence of Christ can make it true; and of "Spirit," if the Heart of Christ can make it spiritual; a worship that meets all man's wants and befits all God's attributes. {489} With this conception of the Mass in your minds, you see at once the explanation of some of the ceremonies attending its celebration which seem to Protestants strange and senseless. A Protestant enters a Catholic Church during the time of Mass. The Priest is at the Altar. You cannot hear what he says, he speaks so low and rapidly; and perhaps it would do you no good if you could, for he speaks in Latin; and you say: "What mummery!" "What superstition!" "What an unmeaning service!" But stop awhile. Take our view of the Mass, and see if our custom is so strange. We believe that there is an invisible Priest at the Mass, Christ, the Son of the Living God, Who offers Himself to His Father for us. You know it is related in the Old Testament, that on one day in the year the Jewish High-Priest used to enter into the Holy of Holies, which was separated from the temple by a veil, and there in secrecy perform the rites of expiation, while the people prayed in silence without. So it is at the Mass. You see the Priest lift up the Host before the people. Well, that is the white veil that hides the Holy of Holies from our eyes. Within, our Lord and Saviour mediates with the Father in our behalf. Oh, be still! Speak low! Let not the priest at the altar raise his voice, lest he drown the whispers from that inner shrine. What need for me to know the very words the priest is using? I know what he is doing. I know that this is the hour of grace. Earth has disappeared from me. Heaven is open before me. I am in the presence of God, and I am praying to Him in my own words, and after my own fashion. I am pouring out my joys before Him, or opening to Him the plague of my own heart. Yes, the Catholic Church has solved the problem of worship. She has a service which unites all the necessary conditions for the public worship of God--a common service, in which all can join; an external service, which takes place before our eyes, which is celebrated with offerings which we ourselves supply, and by a Priest taken from among ourselves; an attractive service; and yet a service perfectly spiritual. {490} The Catholic does not come to church to hear a man pour forth an _extempore_ prayer, and be forced to follow him through all the moods and feelings of his own mind; nor to join in a set form of prayer, which, however beautiful and well arranged, must, from the very nature of the case, fail to express the varying wants and feelings of the different members of the congregation; but he comes to join, after his own fashion, in Christ's own prayer. At the Catholic Altar there is the most complete liberty, the greatest variety, combined with the most perfect unity. Come, then, children, come to Mass, and bring your merry hearts with you. Come, you that are young and happy, and rejoice before the Lord. Come, you that are old and weary, and tell your loneliness to God. Come, you that are sorely tempted, and ask the help of Heaven. Come, you that have sinned, and weep between the porch and the altar. Come, you that are bereaved, and pour out here your tears. Come, you that are sick, or anxious, or unhappy, and complain to God. Come, you that are prosperous and successful, and give thanks. Christ will sympathize with you. He will rejoice with you, and He will mourn with you. He will gather up your prayers. He will join to them His own Almighty supplications, and that concert of prayer shall enter heaven, louder than the music of angelic choirs, sweeter than the voice of those who sing the song of Moses and the Lamb, more piercing than the cry of the living creatures who rest not day or night, and more powerful and prevailing than the intercession of the Blessed Virgin and all the saints of Paradise together. The Mass a formalism! The Mass an unmeaning service! Why, it is the most beautiful, the most spiritual, the most sublime, the most satisfying worship which the heart of man can even conceive. {491} And here, too, in this idea of the Mass, we have the answer to another perplexity of Protestants. They cannot understand why we make such a point of attending Mass. They see us go to Mass in all weathers. They see us so particular not to be late at Mass. They see us on Sunday, not sauntering leisurely, as if we were going to a lecture-room, but pressing on with a certain eagerness, as if we had some great business in hand; and they ask what it all means. Is it not superstition? Do we not, like the Pharisees, give an undue value to outward observances? May we not worship God at home just as well? Ah! if it were really only an outward observance. But there is just the difference. There stands one among us whom you know not. We believe that the Saviour is with us, and you do not. We believe this with a certain, simple faith. Come to our churches, and look at our people, the poorest and most ignorant, and see if we do not. It is written on their faces. They may not know how to express themselves, but this is in their hearts. You think we come to Mass because the Church is so strict in requiring us to do so; but the true state of the case is that the law of the Church is so strict because Christ is present in the Mass. You think it is the pomp and glitter of our altars that draws the crowd. Little you know of human nature if you think it can long be held by such things alone. No, we adorn our altars because we believe Christ is present. This is our faith. It is no new thing with us. It is as old as Christianity. It was the comfort of the Christians in the catacombs. It was the glory of St. Basil and St. Ambrose and St. Augustine. It was the meaning of all the glory and magnificence of the Middle Ages. And it is our stay and support in this nineteenth century of knowledge, labor, and disquiet. Yes, strip our altars, leave us only the Corn and the Vine, and a Rock for our altar, and we will worship with posture as lowly and hearts as loving as in the grandest cathedral. Let persecution rise; let us be driven from our churches; we will say Mass in the woods and caverns, as the early Christians did. We know that God is everywhere. We know that Nature is His Temple, wherein pure hearts can find Him and adore Him; but we know that it is in the Holy Mass alone that He offers Himself to His Father as "the Lamb that was slain." {492} How can we forego that sweet and solemn action? How can we deprive ourselves of that heavenly consolation! _The sparrow hath found her an house and the turtle a nest where she may lay her young, even thy altars, O Lord of Hosts, my King and my God!_ Man's heart has found a home and resting-place in this vale of tears. To us the altar is the vestibule of heaven, and the Host its open door. Yes, and to us the words of the prophet, when he calls the reign of Antichrist "_the abomination of desolation_," because the Daily Sacrifice shall then be taken away, has a peculiar fitness. It is our delight now to think that, as the sun in its course brings daylight to each successive spot on earth, it ever finds some priest girding himself to go up to the Holy Altar; that thus the earth is belted, from the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same, with a chain of Masses; that as the din of the world commences each day, the groan of the oppressed, the cry of the fearful and troubled, the boast of sin and pride, the wail of sorrow--the voice of Christ ascends at the same time to heaven, supplicating for pardon and peace. But oh! when there shall be no Mass any more, when the sun shall rise only to show that the altar has been torn down, the priests banished, the lights put out; that will be a day of calamity, of darkness and sorrow. Then the beasts will groan, and the cattle low. Then will men's hearts wither for fear. Then will the heavens overhead be brass, and the earth under foot iron, because the corn has languished, the vine no longer yields its fruit. The tie between earth and heaven is broken; _sacrifice and libation are cut off from the House of God_. Such be our thoughts, my dear brethren, about the Holy Mass. I have alluded to the efforts which mankind have made to offer a worthy offering to God, sometimes to the extent, even, of sacrificing their own lives and their children. {493} While we abhor these excesses, let us not forget the earnestness which inspired their misguided devotion. And we, to whom God has given a perfect worship, a worship not cruel, but beautiful, inviting, consoling, satisfying, shall we be less devout in offering it? No! come to Mass, and come to pray. When the Lord drew near to Elias on the mount, the prophet wrapped his face in his mantle; so when we come to Mass, let us wrap our souls in a holy recollection of spirit. Remember what is going on. Now pray; now praise; now ask forgiveness; now rest before God in quiet love. So will the Mass be a marvellous comfort and refreshment to you. You know the smell of the incense lingers about the sacred vestments worn at the altar long after the service is over; so your souls shall carry away with them as you leave the church a celestial fragrance, a breath of the odors of Paradise, the token that you have received a blessing from Him whose "fingers drop with sweet-smelling myrrh." ----------------------------- Sermon XXIX. The Lessons Of Autumn. (Last Sunday After Pentecost.) "All flesh is grass, and all the glory thereof as the flower of the field. The grass is withered and the flower is fallen." --Isaias XL. 6, 7. It is but a few weeks since you were told that the natural world has lessons of deep spiritual importance to teach us. Our Lord, as we see in the Gospel, sometimes drew the text of His discourse from the flowers of the field, sometimes from the birds of the air; and it must be evident to any reflecting mind that this was not done as a mere exercise of fancy on His part, but was the Divine Interpretation of these messages of love which from the beginning He had commissioned Nature to tell us. Nature, then, is really _intended_ by God to be our Teacher. It is my purpose this morning, to direct your thoughts to one part of its teaching--that is, the spiritual instruction suggested to us by the season of Autumn. {494} Here, in the Church, where we have always the same doctrines, and the same worship, we might forget how all things without are full of change and decay, were it not that the Church uses Nature as a handmaid, and calls her within the sanctuary to adorn the Altar with her gifts. We miss today the flowers that have been so plentiful all summer, and this tells us what is going on without. The crown of flowers which the Spring brought forth to grace our Easter festival, and which were the truest type of the Resurrection, which made that feast so joyful, have all perished. The rose of Whitsuntide, the floral wealth of Corpus Christi, the white lily of midsummer, have all gone their way. "The glory of Lebanon is departed; the beauty of Carmel and Sharon." In the garden and the field, where so lately there was every kind of fruit and flower that is pleasant to the eye and sweet to the smell or taste--there are now but a few dried leaves, and the skeletons of trees and shrubs shaking and rattling in the wind. Nothing green is left except "the fir-tree and the box-tree and the pine-tree together," patiently enduring cold and snow so as to be on hand when the Holy Night comes round, and the Heavenly Babe is born, to make his humble home glad and beautiful with their green wreaths and branches. The birds that peopled the woods and made them merry with their music have gone south, leaving their summer home silent and desolate. The days are short. Clouds flit across the sky. The air is strong and keen, and men shut it out and make all warm and snug within. Yes, the little time that has elapsed, since we began to number our Sundays from Easter, has been a full cycle of being in the vegetable world. Spring has given place to summer, and summer to autumn. Seed-time and harvest have followed each other, and now the dreary winter has commenced. "The grass is withered and the flower is fallen. {495} And what does all this mean to us? I am sure all of you understand it well. This season speaks to us in tones that reach every human heart. It tells us that we are dying. It is strange how slow we are to realize this. I look around this church, and I see many dressed in the dark garments that tell they are mourning for the dead. In what house, indeed, is the family unbroken? Where is there not a vacant seat at the table? Who of us has not lost a friend? And yet we rarely think that we too are soon to follow them. Now, God wishes us to think of this. He tells us of it by our reason, He tells us of it by our vacant hearths and homes; He tells us of it by sermons, and by His word, but, not content with this, He makes the natural world, heir with us of the sentence of mortality, a monitor to us of this great truth. "_Day unto day uttereth speech if it, and night unto night sheweth knowledge of it_." [Footnote 237] [Footnote 237: Ps xviii. 3.] But at certain seasons He tells us of it more distinctly and in a greater variety of ways. Would you know what the Autumn teaches? Hear the Holy Ghost, Himself interpret it: "_The voice said, cry; and I said, what shall I cry? All Flesh is grass and all the glory thereof as the flower of the field: the grass is withered and the flower is fallen_." [Footnote 238] "_In the morning man shall grow up like the grass; in the evening he shall fall, grow dry and wither_." [Footnote 239] "_Man born of a woman, liveth for a short time, and is filled with many miseries. He cometh forth as a flower and is destroyed; he fleeth as a shadow and never continueth in the same state_." [Footnote 240] [Footnote 238: Isaias xl. 6, 7.] [Footnote 239: Ps. lxxxix. 6.] [Footnote 240: Job xiv. 1, 2.] Oh, do not require God always to speak to you in a voice of thunder: listen to Him when He speaks gently. Open your eyes and ears, and receive instruction from the sights and sounds of Nature. We are dying: the sighing winds tell us so. {496} We are dying: the falling leaf tells us how Death will soon _have power over us as a leaf carried away by the wind, and pursue us as a dry straw_." [Footnote 241] We are dying: the harvest-man is discharged, so "_our days are like the days of an hireling, and the end of labor draweth nigh_." [Footnote 242] We are dying: the short days tell us that to us "_the sun and the light and the moon and the stars will soon be darkened_."[Footnote 243] [Footnote 241: Job xiii. 25.] [Footnote 242: Job vii. 1.] [Footnote 243: Eccles. xii. 2.] We are dying: the earth hath already wrapped itself in its winding-sheet of snow, to foretell to us the time when, stiff and cold, we shall be dressed for the grave. We are _all_ dying. Are you young? Well, the young are dying. Life is but a lingering death. _As soon as we are born, we began to draw to our end_. Every path in life leads straight to the grave. Are you old? are you sick? Ah! then, there is a voice within you which repeats the warning from without. You are not as strong and well as you once were. Time was you felt within you a fount of health and strength that defied danger and despised precaution. What a strange, fierce joy it was for you to struggle with the buffetings of the wintry blast! But, somehow, you know not how, either it was an accident or an imprudence, there came over you now and then a pain, a cough, a strange weariness, and the raw wind steals away from your cheek the bloom which once it imparted, and sends a chill to your heart. What does it mean? I will tell you. It is the shadow of mortality. You are dying. Men do not realize this. They do not realize it of themselves, and they do not realize it of others. Death is always a surprise and an accident. It is one of the things in the world on which men do not count. It is something which has nothing to do with us until the doctor stands over us, and says we have but a few days or a few hours to live. We speak of the dead with pity, as if they were the victims of some unlucky chance which we had escaped. This ought not to be so. "_It is appointed for man once to die_." [Footnote 244] [Footnote 244: Heb. ix. 27.] {497} Because we are living, therefore we must die. Adam in Paradise might have escaped death if he would, but since Adam's sin and our loss of integrity, the sentence of death has passed upon all. There is no reflection which a man can make more certainly true than this: I must die. The time is fixed. There shall come to me a day that knows no setting, a night that knows no dawn. The lights shall be lit in the church; the pall spread over the bier; the priest singing Mass at the altar. My body shall lie under that pall, and my name be mentioned in that Mass. From the church my body shall be carried to the grave, and my soul be happy or miserable according to the deeds it hath done on earth. I do not know _when_ I shall die. Youth is no protection against death. Health is no protection against death. I do not know _where_ I shall die. No corner of the earth can hide me from His summons. I do not know _how_ I shall die, whether at home, among my friends, with the rites of the Church, with my reason, with a quiet mind--or abroad, or suddenly, or without the last sacraments, or with a heavy load of sin on my soul, or in a state of insensibility. All these things are uncertain; this only is certain, that I must die--that I must die, that _my_ turn shall come; and others shall speak of me as I speak now of those already dead. But some of you may say, why tell us this? Life is short at the best, why vex ourselves with thinking of that which we cannot prevent. We have got many projects in hand, many pleasures in prospect, and we do not want to paralyze our energies and sadden our days by meditating always on death. No, my brethren, I do not ask you to think of death in order to paralyze your energies, but to direct them aright; not to sadden your days, but to make them calm and tranquil. I know that a celebrated modern writer has made it a matter of reproach against Christianity that it sends men to learn the solemn lessons of the grave. {498} But surely this reproach is unreasonable. It cannot be denied that men do die. The earth has already many times seen an entire generation of her inhabitants pass away. There are many more sleeping in the ground than live on its surface. Now, if this be so, if death is an inevitable fact in our history, and a fact on which much depends--if this life is not all, but after this life there is an Eternity dependent on our conduct here, it is plain that reason requires us to think of death, and he is foolish who forgets it. Besides, the thought of death is enjoined upon us by the Almighty, as a sure means of salvation: "_In all thy works remember thy last end, and thou shalt never sin_." [Footnote 245] [Footnote 245: Eccles. vii. 36.] And I will say more. The thought of death really contributes to our comfort, because it is the only way of getting rid of the fear of death. Suppose you do refuse to listen to the warnings which Death suggests, are you therefore free from anxiety? Is there no trouble in your conscience? Is there nothing frightful to you in a sleepless night, or a sickbed? would you hear with equanimity that you had a hopeless disease? No, it is the coward that will not think of death, who "_all his life through fear of death is subject to slavery_." Act like a man. Face this King of Terrors, and you disarm him. His countenance is stern, but his words are kind and friendly. Listen to him, and you will find that he can relax his grim features and smile upon you; and there is nothing can give you such comfort, as for death to come to you with a smiling face. The sting of death is sin: be careful to avoid sin, and then at his coming you can exclaim: "O death, where is thy victory! O death, where is thy sting!" [Footnote 246] [Footnote 246: I. Cor. xv. 55.] {499} Oh, it is a shame and a disgrace that Christians think so little about death. Why, death is our best friend and our wisest counsellor. A London anatomist once placed over his dissecting-rooms this inscription: "_Hic mors juvat succurrere vitæ;_" "Here death helps to succor life." You see the meaning. The physician takes a dead body and studies it, spends days and nights over it, repulsive as it is, in order to learn the secrets of the living frame and how to minister to its complaints. So let the Christian look at death and learn from it how to keep his soul in health, how to secure its everlasting life. It is nothing very terrible that death has to tell us now. The time will come, if we refuse to hear him now, when his words will be terrible; but now, though solemn, though calculated to make us serious and thoughtful, they need not make us gloomy. He says, you have a great work to do, and little time to do it in--time enough, but none to spare. He says to the young: Look at me, look into my face, and see the value of beauty and of pleasure. He says to the proud: Come and see how kings and beggars lie side by side in my dominion. He says to the covetous: Come, open a grave, and see what a man carries away with him when he dies. And he says to all, you must die alone; what you are, what you have made yourself, so must you appear before God, to receive a just and final sentence. This is the sermon of Death, that he has been preaching from the beginning. It never grows old. It has converted more sinners than all missionaries and preachers by any other means. It has made more saints, induced more to embrace a religious life, sent more souls to heaven than any other sermon ever did. Oh! Death is a great preacher. There is no answer to his reasonings, no escape from his appeal. He speaks not, but his silence is eloquent. He makes no gestures, but that motionless arm of his is more expressive than the most impassioned action. There is a story told of a certain man named Guerricus, which shows how powerfully death preaches. This man was a Christian, but one who loved the world too well, and one evening he strayed into a church when the monks were singing matins. {500} The hour, the place, all invited to reflection, and as he stood and listened, one of the monks came forth, and in a loud, clear voice sang the lesson of the day. It was as follows: "_And all the time that Adam lived, came to nine hundred and thirty years, and he died. And Seth lived after he begat Enos eight hundred and seven years, and all the years of Seth were nine hundred and twelve years, and he died. And Enos begat Cainan. And all the years of Enos were nine hundred and five years, and he died. And all the days of Cainan were nine hundred and ten years, and he died_." [Footnote 247] [Footnote 247: Gen. v. 5.] So it came at the end of every period, the same melancholy cadence, _Et mortuus est_, "and he died." The words rang in the ear of Guerricus. "So then," said he, "that is the end of all. The longest life ends with that record--_and he died_. So it will one day be said of me." And with this reflection on his mind, he went away and distributed his wealth to the poor, commenced a life of mortification and prayer, and began in good earnest to prepare to die. Happy those who after this example are led by the thought of death to enter on a really devout life! They will not be confounded in the evil day. They will not be afraid of any evil tidings. When the great prophet Elias was about to leave this world, the sons of the prophets came to tell Eliseus of it as a piece of afflicting news, saying: "_Dost thou know that the Lord will take away thy master from thee to-day?_" [Footnote 248] And he said: "_Yes, I know it, hold your peace._" So when the good Christian's last hour comes on, and sorrowing friends approach his bed to break it to him that he is dying, he can say, Yes, I know it. It is no news to me. I have long known it. I have expected it. _Dying_, you say. "So then," I can exclaim with St. Teresa, "the hour is come!" the hour I have so long been waiting for, the hour I have labored for, the hour that is to end my exile here, and unite me for ever to my Saviour and my God! [Footnote 248: I. Kings ii. 3.] {501} I tried just now to describe to you the desolation that is now spread over the face of Nature; but a few weeks ago the scene was quite different. The fields were laden with a golden harvest, and the husbandman was gathering it in with joy. He knew that winter was coming, and he prepared for it. In the morning he sowed his seed, and in the evening he withheld not his hand. He labored in the chill, uncertain spring, and in the hot days of summer, and when autumn came, he gathered his fruits into the garner, safe from the frosts of winter. So he who thinks of death makes the most of the spring-time of life, takes care in his youth to plant in his heart the seeds of piety, and to tear up the weeds of vice, guards his soul in the storms of temptation, labors untiringly through the heat and burden of life, and, when his last hour arrives, lies down in peace, confident that he shall enter into those fruits of righteousness which, by patient continuance in well-doing, he has laid up for the time to come. I commend these thoughts to you all, my brethren; but there are some among you to whom I commend them especially, those, namely, who are to die soon. When the captains of Israel were assembled together at Ramoth-Galaad, the messenger of Eliseus appeared in their midst and said, "_I have a message to thee, O prince._" And they answered, "_To which one of us all?_" [Footnote 249] So I feel this morning as if I had a message to some of you in particular, though I do not know who they are. The message is that which Jeremias the prophet sent to Hananias: "_Thus saith the Lord, this year shalt thou die_." [Footnote 250] [Footnote 249: IV. Kings ix. 5.] [Footnote 250: Jer. xxviii. 16.] {502} How many of those who were alive a year ago are now dead! How many of those who listen to me now will be dead before another year rolls round! Now, to these persons it is a question of the most pressing urgency, "Am I now as I would wish to be when I die? When Death comes, it will not wait because you are laden with sins or unprepared. It will not wait for you to send for the priest or finish your confession, or to receive absolution. At the moment that sentence is given, you must yield up your soul, in whatever state it is. Now, then, is the time to put your house in order. Perhaps you are not a Catholic. You are lingering outside the Church, with misgivings in your heart that only in her fold you can secure your salvation. Will those misgivings help you to die easily? Will those ingenious and far-fetched arguments, by which you fortify yourself against conviction now, give that peace to your soul, which the broad, strong, plain evidence of the Faith imparts to the soul of a Catholic? Would you not like, as you go out of this world, to step on the firm rock of Peter? To go hence "with the sign of faith," with the blessing of the Mother of Saints upon you, and the grace of her sacraments within your heart? Or, you are a Catholic, but a careless one. You have the load of years of sin on your conscience. When you come to die, will you not wish to have those sins blotted out? Will you then forego as you do now those absolving words which our Lord has promised to ratify in heaven? Will you trust all to the uncertain chance of confession in that hour, or to a doubtful contrition? Or it is a cloud of venial sins--a veil of worldliness, and selfishness, and unfaithfulness, of omissions and neglects, that darkens your soul. Do you wish to die with that veil not taken away? Do you wish to go before God as careless and as sensual as you are now? Are you spending your time as you would wish to spend the last year of your life? Oh! be diligent. The night cometh. Work while it is day. "_Whatsoever thy hand is able to do, do it earnestly; for neither work, nor reason, nor wisdom, nor knowledge shall be in the land of the dead whither thou art hastening_." [Footnote 251] [Footnote 251: Eccles. ix. 10.] Receive instruction. Be not of the number of those who have foolishly thrown away their salvation. {503} There are stories of men's passing through grave-yards on dark and stormy nights, and hearing dismal sounds, as of a restless and unhappy soul complaining of its torments. You say it is the wind. Suppose it is: may not the wind be speaking for the dead? Is not the earth for the elect? Does not Nature sympathize with man? Does not every creature groan and travail for our redemption? [Footnote 252] Did not the prophet call upon the fir-trees and the oaks to "howl" for the destruction of Jerusalem! [Footnote 253] [Footnote 252: Rom. ix. 22.] [Footnote 253: Zacb. xi. 2.] Did not the sun hide its face at the crucifixon of our Lord, and the earth tremble under His Cross? And when He comes to judgment will not the stars fall from the sky and the heavens be parted as a scroll? Is not, then, that instinct of humanity right which has understood the fearful sounds and sights of Nature as Divine utterances--pictures and voices of a woe that is unspeakable and indescribable. There is a bird in South America with a cry so melancholy that it is called _The Lost Soul_. And Nature, that speaks there to the hearts of men by that dismal cry, tells the same story to us by the storm at sea, and the moaning and sighing and shrieking of the wind on a winter's night. What aileth thee, O sea, tossed and driven with the waves? Let the Scriptures answer. "_The voice of the Lord is upon the waters, the God of majesty hath thundered, the Lord is upon many waters_." [Footnote 254] [Footnote 254: Ps. xxviii. 3:] Why does the winter come upon us with desolation and storm? Let the Holy Scripture answer again: "_The vineyard is confounded, and the fig-tree hath languished. The pomegranate-tree, and the palm-tree, and the apple-tree, and all the trees of the field shalt wither because joy is withdrawn from the children of men._" [Footnote 255] [Footnote 255: Joel i. 12.] {504} Yes, there are sad things in nature because there is death and reprobation among men. The days grow short out of sorrow for the lost children of God, and the wintry heavens "are black with clouds, and winds, and rain," because to many "_the harvest is past, the summer is ended, and they are not saved_." [Footnote 256] [Footnote 256: Jer. viii. 20.] ----------------------------- THE END {505} Various Works By The Paulist Fathers. For Sale By Lawrence Kehoe, Nassau Street, New York ------------- Sermons of the Paulist Fathers, for 1861 $1.00 Sermons of the Paulist Fathers, for 1862 $1.00 Sermons of the Paulist Fathers, for 1863 $1.00 Sermons of the Paulist Fathers, for 1864 $1.50 Questions of the Soul. By Rev. I. T. Hecker $1.00 Aspirations of Nature. By Rev. I. T. 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